#he’s also the culprit who got me sick

[persnickety-doodles]

I am down with a cold, and my nephew unfortunately bit my drawing wrist, so here’s a doodle while I recover 😅

[yueebby]

4:36am – gojo satoru

synopsis. satoru is dying (he has a fever) and he needs his darling wife (you) to nurse him back to health 

contents. fluff, lovesick!gojo, even in sickness gojo can still flirt, he yaps a lot abt marriage and he’s kind of perverted, but he’s just so in love why dont you just give him one chance?

notes. i tried to make this very shoujo-esque. cant have a good shoujo anime without a fever episode!  this has also been sitting in my drafts for a hot minute. enjoy yet another fic of me showering satoru with affection (sigh).

the cold wooden floors of your dormitory creak underneath your waddling feet. your sleepy haze does not deter you from the strong desire for a cold glass of water.

surprisingly, the usual dark communal kitchen is illuminated by the small lightbulb inside of the fridge. you hear shuffling of some items from the white icebox, removing any ounce of sleepiness from you. it was unusual for anyone to be up at four in the morning.

a tuft of white hair peeks over the refrigerator door, giving the culprit’s identity away.

“satoru? i thought you were still on that mission in sendai?”

the sounds of digging pauses. satoru’s rises to his full height, towering over the rundown refrigerator door. he gives you a crooked smile that you rarely see. it’s dopier than one of his signature cocky smiles.

“missed me? don’t worry, i tried to speed run it since i knew i had such a beautiful woman waiting for me back home.” 

you placed a hand on your hip, scoffing at his pathetic attempts to flatter you. a snarky response was about to fall from your lips, but a series of painful coughs from the lanky male stopped you. 

you recoil back to avoid his germs. “gross. are you sick?”

satoru sniffles, pointing his nose in the air. the same nose that was starting to turn pink from irritation. “i can’t get sick. it’s physically impossible.” 

“don’t be stubborn, satoru. why didn’t you call for help?” 

he huffs, eyes trained to the floor. “it’s too early. shoko’ll kill me for waking her up.”

sometimes you forget that satoru had an image to uphold. he was the great gojo satoru, after all. 

but if you don’t take care of him, then who will? and despite your disdain at the thought of coddling his ego, it was only basic decency to take care of a fellow peer (or that was what you’d like to convince yourself).

silently, you place the back of your hand to his forehead. you’re not surprised by the warm sensation that you feel. 

satoru’s hazy eyes watch as you move your hand from his forehead to his cheek.

you purse your lips in concern. with the way satoru was stubbornly denying that he wasn’t sick, you were nearly certain that he was indeed not fine. without warning, you grab the collar of his white t-shirt and pull him to your room.

“at least take me out to dinner before~”

“shut it.”

it wasn’t hard to get satoru to settle in your bed. in fact, he seemed giddy at the opportunity. while he was happy cuddling with your rilakkuma plushie, you came to two conclusions: either satoru had a wound from his mission that got infected, or he was simply sick.

knowing his pride, you lean towards the former.

the boy in question winces when you grab his shoulders to inspect the damage done to him. the sounds of furious pats and heavy breathing is the only thing you can hear over your rapidly beating heart as your hands run down his body to check for any injuries. satoru sucks in his breath when your hands cup his cheeks to loll his head to check for any damages done to that pretty face of his. 

his body tensing up doesn’t go unnoticed by you. your imposing hands immediately retract, afraid of inflicting any more damage on him.

“where is the wound?!” your frantic eyes meet his blissed out ones. 

satoru sighs happily, lazily grabbing your hands to bring back onto him,  “there isn’t one, this just feels nice.”

your chest angrily puffs up before you shove him into your soft mattress. he grunts, but you know it didn’t hurt.

“[name]!” he whines, rubbing the arm that cushioned his fall.

you cross your arms angrily, “you scared me!”

gojo mimics your actions, crossing his arms while weakly glaring at you. his efforts to intimidate you prove futile as he shivers uncontrollably, resembling a newborn kitten.

sighing, you delve into your closet, emerging with an oversized black sweatshirt that you toss to him.

he catches it with ease, a chuckle escaping while he inspects the sweater, “i never took you for the type to wear this.”

“....that’s not mine.” you give a nod in the direction of the men’s sweater. the sparkle of amusement vanished from satoru's eyes, coinciding with his jaw dropping.

his grip on the dark sweatshirt tightened while his head darted back and forth from you to the clothing item. “then whose is it?!” 

“suguru’s.”

you think that you’ve broken him when his face scrunches up in disgust. it’s laughable how his mouth had managed to stay wide open the entire time.

“sugu-suguru?!” he splutters. you slowly nod, careful not to make any sudden movements that could provoke him any further. “why– how– explain yourself!”

you cast an uneasy glance at the sweater, finding it challenging to summon any recollections of how you obtained it, especially with satoru's piercing cerulean eyes fixed on you. his scrutinizing stare has the power to reduce you into a puddle.

“well? go on,” he urges you when you stay silent. 

“it’s nothing, really. i believe it was from that mission i had with suguru a while back. somewhere up north. i had packed light and suguru offered me his sweater.” you tap a finger on your chin to recall the memory. “i guess it just slipped my mind to return it.”

“slipped your mind, huh…” satoru sniffles before letting out a sneeze loud enough to wake up japan. you nearly jump out of your skin.

“suguru was just being friendly… and be quiet! yaga will have our heads if he finds you in the girls’ wing!” you warn the weary boy in front of you, prompting him to respond with a dramatic sigh.

“how mean!” he whines before making a pained expression. you quickly rush to his aid. when you make it to his bedside, satoru weakly hands you a clean tissue.

you stare at it blankly.

“be a darling and help me blow my nose?” he gestures for you to hold the tissue up for him. all you can hear are muffled whines when you shove him underneath your plush covers. 

when your flurry of attacks ends, he cautiously lifts his head from beneath the sheets. to his surprise, a steaming bowl of bitter melon miso soup is presented to him. while the broth isn't your personal favorite, shoko appreciates its bold flavor, spurring your decision to prepare it the night prior. despite its bitter components, the concoction had a perfect track record of treating illnesses. you have your brown haired friend to thank.

perhaps it was cruel of you to take enjoyment while he eyes the bowl in horror. you know his sweet palate couldn’t handle it.

he looks up at you with big pleading eyes while shaking his head. you roll your eyes.

“c’mon, it won’t kill you.” the bowl inches closer to him by your doing. “please?”

satoru's pallid complexion contorts into a hesitant frown. "i’ll eat it…” he concedes reluctantly. however, his gaze lingers on the bowl with a mixture of uncertainty and reluctance. you respond with a hopeful smile, but it fades when he adds, "on two conditions."

“this is for your own health, not mine satoru.” you remind him.

“doesn’t it pain you to see me suffer?” he brings up, eyes glittering in the darkness.

you suck in a breath. “...not really.” lie.

“you wound me, love.” he clutches his shirt like he has been critically hit. 

you bite your lip, tired of his theatrics. “what are the two conditions?”

just like that, gojo comes back to life.

“condition number one! you have to feed me.” he points one finger into the air, paired with an innocent smile. “and two: i want you to warm me up like that night in our first year.”

an unflattering appalled expression is cast over your face. no words leave your mouth for a good minute. “y-you’re disgusting. why are you the way you are?”

“love,” he sighs. “anyways, what kind of wife wouldn’t feed her husband while he’s dying?”

“satoru,” you warn. he was starting to babble nonsense again. “if i accept your conditions, will you shut up?” your eyes were starting to feel heavy. it was the middle of the night, after all.

he nods fervently.

carefully with the bowl of soup in hand, you gently squish yourself next to satoru on your full sized bed. the tight fit left you little room to move, forcing the two of you to nestle closely to each other. with a gentle maneuver, you rest your head on his chest. his arm slowly drapes itself protectively over your shoulder.

“your heart is beating awfully fast.” you whisper, tilting your head upward to take a glimpse of satoru’s feverish face. his breath hitches.

he takes a hand and holds your head back onto his chest to prevent your movement.

“shut it. i didn’t think you would actually accept my conditions.” he mumbles.

“don’t get used to it. this is another moment of weakness.”

you stir the spoon in the broth, basking in the silence of the night, save for satoru’s erratic heartbeat.

“this is very intimate isn’t it?” he gushes. “it’s almost like we’re married—”

“keep your side of the deal,” you remind him, lifting a spoonful of broth up to his mouth. satoru looks straight into your eyes as he opens his mouth to receive it.

his adam's apple bobs when he swallows, “i’m going to tell our grandkids that we were written in the stars.”

you shove another spoonful of soup into his mouth.

extra notes

satoru magically recovered from his fever the next morning.

his second condition (for you to warm him up like that night in your first year) refers to this fic from earlier on in the series.

satoru also made you promise to never accept another hoodie from suguru. if you needed one, satoru was more than willing to give you his! (you halfheartedly agree, only because he was acting all delirious because of his fever).

as of right now, there have only been three occasions where satoru has fallen asleep in your presence. he can testify that those were the best nights of sleep in his life.

shoko went into your room for a spare pair of stockings the next morning only to find you tucked into gojo’s chest. she chases him out of your room all while calling him a pervert . bless her heart.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Away We Go {3}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: It’s winter break and silly season 2024/25 which means drama (and officially the end of the series). Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, fluff WC: 4.1k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry || One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || 6.5 || Seven || SMAU || Eight || Nine NAV: Away We Go || One || Two || Three

With the final three races of the season a triple header you hadn’t been home in weeks. You had missed your own space and knowing where everything was unlike the hotel rooms you had spent almost a month living out of. What you hadn’t missed was the pile of mail to sort out. Three stacks were neatly comprised on the kitchen table: one each for Lando, Charles and you. A quick skim through them found most were the usual culprits - bills, fan mail and junk - but two stood out. 

A thick brown envelope had a return address for Oxfordshire, England and you tore it open with a squeal. “I got it!”

Your shouts had Lando and Charles dropping the suitcases in the bedroom and even Autumn looked up from where she was playing with her toys in the living room. “Guess who’s back on the grid, baby!”

Your feet were lifted off the floor as you were bear hugged from the front and back, kisses peppering your cheeks that ached from the wide smile. 

“Congratulations, love.”

“Knew you would do it, amour.”

You couldn’t keep still as you reread the welcome letter and the others picked through their mail. 

“Huh,” Lando huffed as he opened an envelope similar to one you also received. “That’s weird.”

“It’s not another pair of panties, is it?” you asked, the item making an unfortunately common appearance in their mail.

“No, it’s from the Vegas Chapel.”

You tore open your envelope too and skimmed over the letter that confirmed the marriage to Lando had been successfully submitted to the State of Nevada, and accepted. “Wait, that’s not right. Who submitted it?”

Charles rushed through his pile searching for the same envelope but there was nothing for him. His brows furrowed and he grabbed the two letters, holding them side by side to see for himself. “What about me?”

A lump formed in your throat and you curled your arms around him. “We’ll figure it out, baby, it’s got to be a mistake.”

It wasn’t a mistake. 

Well, it wasn’t a clerical mistake but the human kind, where the minister's assistant had missed the conversation about the marriage not being legal. She had submitted the paperwork with the rest of the chapel weddings and since yours and Lando’s document was on top it was processed first. The other two were rejected.

You were legally married to Lando, for better or for worse.

–

“We should get ready,” you murmured, not really feeling in the partying mood but Max had returned from the FIA awards and wanted to celebrate his championship win. 

In the week since getting the letter, things hadn’t been the same. Charles was withdrawn, Lando was full of remorse, and you were left trying to figure out a way to reunite your family. Even Autumn was picking up on the tension in the house and was fussier than usual. 

“You can tell Max I am sick,” Charles muttered from the couch he sank into, clutching a cushion to his chest so he could rest his chin on it. 

“You’re not sick.”

“I feel sick.”

“We all feel sick,” Lando added before curling a finger your way and you followed him down the hall to the office. He had spent most of the day locked in the room, talking with lawyers about the best option. It was too late to annul the marriage, he found, and neither of you really wanted to go through the paperwork for a divorce - but if it saved the relationship with Charles then that is what you would do. 

“Steph can draw up the documents,” he said after closing the door and dropping into his computer chair. “We just need to go through our assets and figure out whose is whose.”

“Even though we aren’t actually breaking up?”

“Yeah.” The one word held so much defeat and Lando scratched at his head before tugging the curly strands. “I fucked up, love, I should have just kept my mouth shut and none of this would have happened.” 

You followed his eyes to the picture frames that were still stacked in the corner of his desk. It would have been rubbing salt in the wound for Charles if they had been hung as planned in the bedroom. Taking a seat on Lando’s lap, you brushed his hair back into place and kissed the frown away from his forehead. 

“What if there is a way to show Charles that he is as much a part of this family, without a divorce?” The marriage so far had been kept quiet but a divorce would become public, something you would rather avoid given your seat signing hadn’t yet been announced. 

Lando perked up with hope and you took a deep breath. “How do you feel about changing your name?”

–

Winter break hadn’t got off to the best start but you were trying to remedy that with the two documents laid out on the kitchen table. 

“Charles, can you come here please?” 

Lando fidgeted with his necklace as footsteps padded down the hall. Charles had locked himself away in the gym and his grey shirt was damp with sweat as he looked between the two of you waiting for him.

“Family meeting, sit,” you ordered. You had taken Autumn over to Max’s so there would be no interruptions and she had enough bottles of milk to last the day if needed. “Christmas is coming and I am not having anything ruin this for Autumn’s sake.”

With less than a week to go, the house had nothing to show. There were no decorations hung and the Christmas tree was still in a box in the storage closet. You couldn’t even bear to think about going to the ski resort with everyone and having to put on a brave face. 

“We are going to fix this today,” Lando said with a serious tone.

Charles scoffed, clearly not believing him, but he dropped into the seat at the head of the table and looked down at the papers and pens. “What’s this then?”

“Your choice.” You pointed to the left, and a much thicker stack. “This one is for a divorce. Everything would hopefully go back to the way it was before, but since it will need to be filed in the US it will be publicly accessible. Nothing we can’t handle with a PR team statement, if that’s what you want.”

Charles fingers the pages but didn’t try to read them before turning his attention to the smaller document. “What’s this?”

“A promise,” Lando said, taking Charles hand and trying not to cry when it went limp in his. “You’re my husband, no matter what a stupid piece of paper says, and we are a family. I know how you are feeling, I remember when you two accidentally went public and I thought I was being left behind. But you didn’t, and I won’t ever either. I belong to you.”

“Me too,” you said, taking his other hand. “And we want to show that we are in this together until the very end by changing our last names to Leclerc, if you’ll have us?”

The question hung suspended in the apartment and the only sound came from the clock hanging in the kitchen. The seconds ticked by as Charles quietly contemplated the options in front of him. What he wanted wasn’t a possibility, no matter how hard he wished it was, but he knew he couldn’t continue the way he had been, keeping you both at an arm's length. He could see the bags under your eyes from the restless nights and hated the toll this had taken on everyone. 

Charles tried to remember those three short weeks of bliss, the intimate secret that only the three of you knew about, and he sighed as he realised he hadn’t kept his promise. Rising from the table he grabbed the thick stack of papers and walked away, the office door closing behind him.

“Well, shit,” Lando muttered. “I always imagined being married longer than Kim Kardashian.”

“I know, but it’s his choice and we have to respect that,” you agreed, hanging your head in your hands. “I suppose I should ring James and give him the heads up.”

You couldn’t muster up the energy to make the call though, you just sat there in silence with Lando. Twice he opened his mouth to say something but the words fell short and the minutes continued to abandon the day as if they wanted it to be over just as quickly.

Strange whirring sounds came from the office and Charles dipped across the hall to the storage closet, then into the bedroom before hard banging echoed through the house. Each bang sent a jolt down your spine and your eyes began to burn at the thought of Charles being so angry he had to break things. You looked and Lando and he looked at you, a little shake of head saying, ‘Leave him be’.

Finally, it all went silent and Charles sauntered his way back into the room and dumped an armful of paper shavings into the table along with a hammer. The mountain of shredded paper spread across the wood and some fell into your lap, the barely-legible name of the attorney spelled out on each strip.

“That was a stupid idea,” Charles muttered as he fell back into his chair and scrambled through the rubbish to find the application forms for official name changes. “You’re not getting a fucking divorce.”

“Uh, okay…” Lando said with a frown, his eyes darting to the hammer and then to the hall. “Should I ask what’s broken or are we just ignoring that?”

“I didn’t break anything,” Charles said, clicking the pens and holding one out to you and Lando. “I hung our marriage certificates up where they were meant to be. Now, are you serious about this?”

“Wouldn’t have offered otherwise,” you said as you took the pen. “Are you?”

“You’re mine, and the whole world is going to know it.”

–

Christmas Eve 2024

The long table was in a state of chaos as parents tried to wrangle the older children and the grandparents watched on with amusement, remembering the days when that was them. You shared a smile with your husbands and knew that next year you would be a part of that chaos but for now you were happy to watch on while Autumn played with a plastic spoon in her high chair.

It had become a tradition to open one present before the meal and a small box sat beside the glass of wine you were indulging in, a group present for the three of you. A larger box was just out of Autumn’s reach and Penelope’s was tempting the young girl with a Christmas cracker balanced on top.

“Who wants to go first?” Adam asked, a chorus of ‘me’s’ ringing out from all the kids old enough to understand.

You leaned in to whisper to Charles and Lando, slyly glancing along the line of adults. “$500 says Kelly’s pregnant.”

Lando looked at Max and Kelly who were busy chatting to Daniil and his eyes widened. “Holy shit, you might be right.”

Charles was just confused. “What is going on?”

You watched Kelly take another sip of her drink before Max refilled it, with water. “See, that is not a gin and tonic.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Charles laughed, shaking his head.

“And they invited Daniil.”

“Exactly, that would be more awkward, no?”

You huffed at fault in the logic until you snapped your fingers excitedly. “Except they want P here for the announcement and it was his year to have her for Christmas. Jesus, I am in the wrong line of work, I should be Sherlock.”

Charles picked up your glass and sniffed the wine. “I think it is you who needs water, amour.”

“Does that mean you are up for the bet?”

“I don’t need the money, but I will enjoy taking it from you,” he teased.

Adam quickly gave up trying to have any organisation and let the kids tear into their presents. Luka and Lio were the first to get through the wrapping paper and immediately wanted to play with the racecars. Mila squealed at the unicorn helmet she got to match the bike she had asked Santa for while Athena hadn’t even attempted to open hers as she was distracted by the cheese and cracker board. It was Penelope who sat in silence as she stared at the shirt she unwrapped.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Kelly asked with a knowing grin and you slapped Charles’ leg under the table.

P held up the shirt and started to bounce in her seat, a wide smile splitting her face. “I’m going to be a big sister!”

“I can also take the $500 in the form of sexual favours,” you whispered.

“Happily, but later,” he said before standing up and congratulating Max and Kelly.

“I’m surprised she could keep the secret,” Max said to Charles, his head nodding in your direction as you sank lower into the seat.

“Hmm, is that right?”

“She kind of figured it out a few days ago when she caught Kelly spooning marmite out of the jar with celery sticks. Cravings, mate, they are a strange fucking surprise.”

Charles laughed in agreement and clapped Max on the shoulder. “Speaking of surprises, we have one of our own too. Don’t worry, it’s not another baby this time.” He returned to his seat beside you and waited a few minutes for everyone to congratulate the two. Finally when the room calmed a bit he picked up his glass and tapped it with a spoon to get the adults attention. 

“I just wanted to thank everyone for being here and spending another Christmas with us,” Charles began, his finger tracing the lip of his glass he still held. “Every year the table keeps growing larger and, Max, you finally get to be the reason for an extra chair next year, so big thumbs up for taking that responsibility. My wife thanks you,” he chuckled along with Lando before reaching for the small box on the table, opening it to reveal the wedding bands you had chosen.

“You know, three years ago I would have never imagined being this happy without winning a championship, but I have learned that even if I do get to raise that trophy myself one day it is more important having loved ones to share the experience with.” Charles took the first of two identical rings. Your husband’s rings were relatively simple but it was all they needed - like the necklaces they wore, it was made of three bands woven together. “I can’t wait to experience it all with you,” he said as he slipped the ring on Lando’s finger before picking up yours. Similar to theirs, yours was woven with three bands but yours had a dazzling emerald and sapphire inset to represent them. “Every moment, good and bad, as long as it’s with you.”

You reached for his ring, the last one in the box and placed it on his finger with a smile.

“You’re meant to ask the question first, then give them the rings,” Lorenzo teased as Pascale nudged him to shush.

“That would be a proposal,” Lando laughed, curling an arm around Charles' waist and pulling you in too. “We are actually celebrating what comes next.”

“Wait, what?” Max gaped. “Marriage? You guys are married?”

“So, not quite, it’s, uh, actually a funny story,” you said with a grin. Now that everything had smoothed over you could finally laugh about the situation and the rest of the table found it equally amusing once they forgave you for not telling them. “I should probably update the FIA with my new name. How confusing is it going to be for Crofty to have three Leclerc’s on the grid?”

“Two,” Max corrected, but you just winked. His eyes widened and he stood up, walking around the table to grab your shoulders. “You got a seat?” You nodded and he squeezed the air out of your lungs with a tight hug. “I’m so proud of you, zusje.”

“Season hasn’t even started,” you reminded him. “There’s still a lot of work to be done but the testing looks promising for next year.”

“I know you’ll do great. It’ll be nice to have a little competition again,” he teased Lando and Charles, despite the final results being closer than they had been for a few years.

“The only competition we have to worry about is out on the slopes. I’m not pregnant this year so I will be out there at dawn ready to kick your ass, Verstappen.”

Max smirked at the challenge and raised his glass to tap yours. “You’re on, Leclerc.”

–

Epilogue

The same faces welcomed you back to the grid but the colours they wore had changed. Lewis was at Ferrari and Carlos was at Red Bull, but the most surprising change was Alex who had gone to Mercedes. Albon was meant to be your teammate but he had chosen not to renew his contract and rather than bring in a rookie to start from scratch they renewed Logan for his third year.

The American driver stared at the roof for the team meeting before the first race of the season and you tapped his cap. “You don’t need to worry,” you chuckled. “It’s just a boob.”

The man was born and bred a polite southern boy and still couldn’t bring himself to even look in your direction while you pumped the excess milk out. After finding out the hard way during testing, you knew you had to get at least a bottle out or there would be leaking in your racesuit before you passed the chequered flag. Starting in P6 there were high hopes that you would score some good points and you didn’t want to go to the media pit with two wet patches on your chest.

“I’m not worried, just giving you some privacy,” he said quietly.

“You’re good at that,” you said as you swapped the pump to the other breast. “I don’t think I properly thanked you for not telling anyone I was pregnant.”

He frowned and almost looked your way before turning his attention to the computer screen of data. “It wasn’t my place to say.”

“That doesn’t stop some people, so thank you.”

“No problem.”

“We are having dinner after the race, you’re welcome to join us if you want.”

“Isn’t it your family?”

The flow into the bottle had slowed to a drop so you turned the machine off and packed it away with the bottle, covering your chest back up at the same time. “We can have eye contact now,” you teased. “It’s a long way here, most of our family couldn’t make it so it’s really just a bunch of orphans congregating in our suite. You can bring your girlfriend too, or boyfriend - we don’t judge.”

“Definitely girlfriend,” he admitted before shyly scuffing his shoes on the concrete floor. “How did you know?”

“You’re very private, I figured you’re either in a quiet relationship or a serial killer. I’m really happy it wasn’t the latter.”

Logan loosened up with a laugh and began to relax as he joked, “Innocent until proven guilty.”

The rest of the briefing went quickly and strategies were made for the current weather readings. The mildly warm temperatures at the tail end of an Australian summer were promising from the data and you knew it would come down managing tyre degradation with all the right hand turns. Albert Park was a fun circuit but as Alex learned last season, one mistake and the race could be over in an instant.

“I’m just going to check on Autumn,” you said to James as you walked out of the garage after the driver parade.

The team principal checked his watch and gave a nod. “15 minutes.”

You knew those minutes would fly by so you jogged down the pit lane to Mercedes where Susie was watching over your daughter, when she could get her away from Toto. But it appeared you were the last one to arrive as Lando and Charles took turns having some last minute cuddles.

“I hope you have one left for me, my love,” you cooed as you stole her from Charles. “Mwah, mummy loves you.”

You handed her back and swung the bag off your shoulder. “There’s plenty of milk in here if she runs out, and some yoghurt too.

“Relax, mama, we will be fine,” Susie assured you. “Focus on the race.”

As if to remind you, the bell for the grid opening rang out and you knew it was time to head back. “Okay, focus,” you told yourself before kissing Autumn’s cheek again and inhaling her baby scent. “Love you.”

Lando tugged at your sleeve and you reluctantly let him pull you away or you wouldn’t have had the strength to. “Come on, love, time to go.”

“I know, it’s just…hard.”

“Always is,” Charles admitted, kissing your temple. “See you out there, Spitfire.”

—

Testing was nothing compared to the strain the race put on your body, but it was like riding a bicycle, once you got into the groove you couldn’t even feel it. Your sole focus was on the car ahead and the carbon fibre rear wing that belonged to Lando. Though the Williams didn’t have the down force to compete with a McLaren or Ferrari in the corners, it somehow had great straight line speed. That straight line speed mixed with a classic Ferrari strategy and a slow pit stop by Mercedes had you defending the third position you suddenly found yourself in. It would have been a different story if Carlos hadn’t’ve had a turn one incident with Lewis, but you would take all the luck you could get.

“Wow, what a welcome back,” Naomi cheered as you stepped onto the interview mat and you looked back at your car parked in the third spot.

“It doesn’t even feel like I left,” you admitted with a laugh.

Lando had already done his interview and stepped over to the barriers where Susie’s silver Mercedes uniform stood out in a sea of dark blue Williams mechanics, Autumn squirming to be put down when she spotted her daddy.

Naomi followed your eyes to your husband and she smiled. “But there have been a few changes since we were last standing here.”

“Some things never change though.” You jutted a thumb at your brother who was busy kissing Kelly and P who cheered with the rest of Red Bull for his win. “I was kind of hoping for a repeat of last year since Charles was right on my ass - I mean tail.”

“Three Leclerc’s on the podium would surely have been a historical moment and I apologise to our viewers for that little whoopsie.”

Not wanting to risk another swear word on live tv, the interview ended and you raced over to Lando and Autumn, enveloping them both in a hug. “Wish Charles was here,” you murmured to his chest.

“Me too,” he said, kissing your sweaty forehead. “Ready to go pop some champagne, baby?”

“Also-fucking-lutely.” You kissed Autumn and thanked Susie for watching her as you made your way to the cooldown room. “Remind me to pump and dump later because I am chugging that bottle.”

“You deserve it,” Max said as he entered the room and took Lando’s seat since he had stolen the middle one. “I had to double check you parked in the right spot.”

“Lando’s the one who does that,” you pointed out. “But honestly, it was like the stars aligned, I don’t know how it happened. I mean, testing was good, but everything just fell perfectly into place.”

Lando smiled proudly and took your hand, resting on his thigh while you watched the highlights on the tv.

As the Dutch anthem played you watched the crowd below the stage, your keen eyes finding Autumn on Toto’s shoulders where he stood with your principal and you were certain you saw him wince as she pulled his hair. Finally the last anthem finished and you grabbed the jeroboam bottle, giving it a swirl to really make it fizzy before bringing it down on the stage.

Bubbles tickled your skin as the fountain rained down and you turned it on Lando and Max before tipping it back and savouring the taste after almost a year without it. Floating on the high, you took a seat on the podium and watched the last of the confetti fall to the ground. Sensing the celebration was over, Max joined you, tapping his bottle to yours.

“Told them I’d come back and win in a Williams.”

“You didn’t win, zusje,” Max corrected, lifting the medal that hung around his neck for emphasis.

“Yet,” you grinned, taking another long drink before wiping the excess from your lips. “But it’s only round one.”

[eddiessluttywaist]

as if (part 3)

AGELESS/BLANK/UNDER 18 BLOGS ARE NOT WELCOME TO INTERACT. PLEASE RESPECT MY RULES AND BOUNDARIES

summary: reader isn’t keen to playing the usual games between her and eddie after how she felt sunday night, and eddie can’t stand losing her attention. PICK WHAT ENDING YOU WANT AFTER.

pairing: bully!mean!perv!eddie munson x perv!fem reader

word count: 8,704 words (9,272 total words with the fluffy ending, 9,516 total words with the angsty ending)

content/warnings: swearing, SMUT MDNI (y/n is 18), bully!eddie, mean!eddie, perv!eddie, bully kink (?), dominating, breeding kink, mocking, teasing, biting, dacryphilia, groping, pet names (doll face, princess), degradation, some embarrassment, yearning, menophilia, angst :(((, feelings :(((, fluff(what? who said that?). i think that’s all pls tell me if i miss anything!

a/n: thank you for all the love :( i’m truly so surprised and grateful and just super flattered so thank you!! i hope i didn’t fuck this up by giving it crap endings sobs. i saw some were interested in a bit of a better look into eddie’s thoughts/feelings so i hope those lil parts are good! i’m considering the occasional blurb in the future about them tho so 👀 OH ALSO!! the past week or so tumblr had a bug on their app that cut off the ends of my posts >:( so I’d appreciate it if you could look back to double check you caught the full ending so you get the proper experience! okay i’m shutting up now!

part one - part two

*

You weren’t as responsive to his teasing that Monday…or, well… just about the rest of the school week so far, for that matter. You blamed your mood drop on his indifference, and the cramping that you assumed was only from this weekend. You had been sure it was just your cervix making its opinions on Eddie known, but then—after your second sugar pill of the week—you got your period Wednesday night. This culprit seemingly just as likely for that aching in your lower abdomen and back. It was welcome evidence that your birth control was working, but the appreciation for its presence didn’t last long with all the cramping and the bleeding. You hated getting your period, no matter how many older women reminded you of your “connection to Mother Nature” and “the beauty of the womb.” It’s messy and painful and almost always broke out your face.

So no you aren’t playing Eddie’s usual games—instead going silent on him or answering in an empty murmur. Part of you worries it’s going to all build up to one particularly heinous act, but he surprisingly didn’t get worse. He only bothered you with the same old stuff more frequently. By Thursday he’s pestering you constantly with his teasing, and his grabbing, and honestly? Just about every trick in his sick little book which were usually tastefully sprinkled throughout the week.

“So you’re not talking to me? Playing hard to get or somethin’?” He whispers from behind you in the lunch line. You grab a saran-wrapped cookie and put it on your tray.

“What? You on your rag or something?” Eddie scoffs in response to your ever freezing cold shoulder. He’s out in the tundra these past couple of days. You make a face and continue moving through the line.

“Come on… don’t fuck me and forget me, babe. You’ll break this ol’ cynic’s heart and I’ll never recover.” He teases with a wide smile, hand placed over his heart before it drops to settle on the small of your back and gradually travel down to cup your ass. He’s pleasantly surprised that you’re not gently nudging him away like you had the last time he attempted his usual lunchtime groping, but something feels different. He glances down as he flips up your skirt only to reveal small shorts in the same pattern of your dark, plaid skirt. Your worst nightmare is bleeding through a light-colored pair of pants or skirt, so you always wear darker clothes on your period, and you trade skirts for skorts in favor of the added coverage.

“What the fuck is this shit?” He scowls, tugging at one leg of the shorts.

“It’s called a skort. We’ve had this conversation before.” You sigh, thanking the lunch lady as she hands you your tray and eyes the metalhead trailing behind you.

She thinks he resembles an abandoned puppy who grew mean and practiced his bite and his bark just to follow after you with his tail between his legs. If she had any genuine interest in connecting with the student body she fed 5 days out of the week, she might’ve made a playful joke about you having him whipped. But she didn’t care that much.

“I don’t think we have.” He grins, wondering if you even noticed you let yourself talk to him.

“You do it every time I’m on-“ You catch yourself almost admitting you were on your period, which would certainly only pull new harassment from him, so you pretend to correct a simple mistake. “In. Every time I’m in a skort.”

He hums disapprovingly.

“Yeah, well… I…” He trails off as you simply walk away from him to your usual spot in the cafeteria. You don’t bother to stay at his table you two reached just for him to finish making some crude joke before ultimately shooing you away anyway. “Okay… or be a bitch.”

He grumbles that last bit, landing into his usual spot at the head of the table. A few of the other Hellfire members are still staring even when he clearly takes notice.

“Can I help you?” He snaps, everyone who had been staring immediately looking down at their food. He huffs, adjusting his position in the chair to get more comfortable and lets his gaze move over to your table. You’re sat so pretty it’s like your image could actually advertise such a crappy plastic chair. The way your ankles are crossed underneath you, book cracked open on the table with all of your attention on it as you sat with your body leaned into the table. Your food was hardly touched due to a pang of nausea that he was completely unaware of.

“You know if you like her maybe you shouldn’t pick on her so much.”

Eddie grimaces at the comment that’s—in his opinion—beyond a disregard for his rank at this table, icy glare on the curly haired freshman. There are panicked faces and soft muttering around the table showing he isn’t the only one taken aback by this.

“I…” the boy falters, putting the spoonful of pudding he’s about to eat back down. “I just mean if… if you like her. I dunno… you’re kinda mean to her, Eddie.”

He eats his scoop of pudding now, his bold words inspiring the wiry one that always sits next to him. Eddie’s burning glance flits over to him now that he’s speaking, his expression remaining unimpressed with etches of frustration in the shadows of his facial features.

“Yeah, which is actually totally weird cause you’re not like that at all.” The brunet speaks in a rapid ramble like usual. “Like, you took me and Dustin and Lucas under your wing cause we were new and weird and alone and stuff like that—no, I know Lucas has been ditching Hellfire for the jocks, but anyway— you’re always talking back to those asshole jocks—which is totally cool—so I don’t get why you’re not like that with her.”

“I’m sorry, I must be confused.” The man spoke with sarcastic interest, a sinister smile breaking out onto his face. “Are you two talking to me? About something that is, quite frankly, none of your business?”

The two boys look at each other, the nerves shared between them tangible. Eddie raises a brow and tilts his head when they face him again. Still silence. Mike swallows anxiously.

“Well?” He sneers, flicking some of his trail mix at them.

“Sorry, Eddie…” They say in unison as he chews slowly, staring them down. He rolls his eyes as his body slowly relaxes again in his spot and he glances at you again. You were at least breaking off pieces of your cookie now, still reading your book.

“She’s not new or weird or alone anyways. She’s always with the smart kids.” He states, before holding up a hand as his gaze returns to the pair. “Not that I’m inviting you two shitheads to stick your noses in my business.”

The freshmen, along with a few others at the table shift to look over at you. You’re still engrossed in whatever you’re reading and you looked miserable, even if you were enjoying a good book. You look tired.

“Dude, literally no one is interacting with her. There’re the Jacobson twins talking at one end—probably still fighting over what’s the right answer to the equation from algebra class (it’s zero, by the way). Then there’s Richie and Greg from advanced calculus. Some people I don’t know…” Dustin mutters that last part before continuing, “And yes technically speaking there are a few girls sitting with her, but they’re not even talking. They probably don’t even know her.“

Eddie stares him down, the conversation still on you burning away at something inside him. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to talk about you or how lonely you look. He doesn’t want to talk about inviting you over. And he certainly doesn’t want to talk about how mean he is to you, cause he has no interest in trying to break down the intricacies of the crossover between bullying you and fucking you. Especially to freshmen.

“Just saying.” Dustin finally sighs in defeat, clearly getting no response from the DM sat at the head of the table. “But seriously, tugging on a girl’s pigtails cause you like her is completely grade school.”

*

Eddie had figured that having sex would change things between you two, but he imagined it changing for the better. Things like fucking you in the janitor’s closet or in the back of his van in the parking lot. Feeling you up between classes. Being so fucking mean to you all day until you were all wet and needy for him by the time that final bell rang.

He certainly didn’t imagine this.

At the start of the school week, Eddie didn’t entirely notice your lack of participation. Just that something felt… off-kilter in your interactions. It had been on Tuesday night that he realized nothing felt right because you weren’t glaring at him or shoving him away or pouting up at him. You didn’t even turn your head when an object was flicked at you, you just kept your eyes on the chalkboard.

Now he isn’t particularly well known for his critical thinking with… well… anything other than music, DND, and—subsequently—the math that came along with both hobbies. And, of course, selling drugs. So it’s somewhat understandable that poor Eds didn’t even realize what caused the imbalance for a whole day or two. Once he realized it though, it only frustrated him further. It irritated him that you weren’t playing the game, and it irritated him that it bothered him so much in the first place.

Why aren’t you snapping back at him? Why are you ignoring him, and if you even do look over: why was it always with a sad glance? Why, when he toyed with your skirt on Monday did you tilt your head to the side and quietly ask him to please leave you alone? When he saw you first thing Monday morning with circles under your eyes that were barely disguised by drug store concealer; Why, when he leaned into you as he passed you in the hall with a quiet “Something keep you up last night?” Did you only give him a passing glance with lips pressed together in what might’ve been an attempt at a small smile just to fall flat with that dull look in your eyes.

Being how he is, his game plan had been to keep bugging you constantly. Wear you down until you were finally glaring or giggling or whining, and everything could be back to the way it was. Maybe you were just suddenly playing hard to get. Being a teasing brat who would eventually have a smirk sneak out so he knew you were toying with him, and he could make you pay for it later. That smirk never quirked up your lip though. You were still such a rainy cloud drifting through the school.

The little twerp got to him at lunch today, too. He wonders now if maybe you were sick of the way he acted, and realized you want deserve someone a little less inclined to pigtail-tugging and a little more open and romantic. But why now? He thought you enjoyed it all. That’s why he wasn’t expelled already. That’s why you fucked him and called him for more. Right? Sitting in his van instead of attending the last class of the day, Eddie rubs his hands over his face and lets out a frustrated groan. He feels something crucial missing in him at the fact that he’d rather pull teeth than drop down his smug and playful demeanor even for a second and show you that he’s yours.

He noticed you were pretty when you were a sophomore, but not much else. Now in your senior year with him, god—you aren’t even pretty. You’re fucking devastating, and he knows his methods of showing affection aren’t something that will stand the test of time. You’ll grow tired and fuck it, he’d be living up to that Munson name if he has to see you with someone else—probably wind up serving time right alongside Pops after leaving some guy in the hospital. So maybe there were tweaks to be had. Even if he’s bitter and reluctant about it. (And did I mention bitter?)

Eddie pulls his hands away from his face at the faint sound of a bell, letting the side of his head fall against the window with a solid thunk as he awaits the crowds of students rushing out of the school.

*

You’re passing by others on your way out of the building, just as relieved as everyone else to be going home for the day—not that your excitement showed. It’s more of a calm relief to be heading to your room again than everyone else’s bubbly enthusiasm to make plans for the rest of the day. (When they should be getting their assignments done after all it’s not Friday yet, you think, but maybe that’s just because you evidently have no life.)

Making your way through the parking lot, a loud horn makes you jump. Your eyes wild and your heart up in your throat, you look around until you spot Eddie laying on his horn with his tongue partially sticking out off to the side. He lets up the second you lock eyes and laughs.

“Need a ride? Gotta couple of good options.”

You huff, trying to ignore his filthy innuendo and shake your head. He groans, settling his head back against the head rest of his seat while you start walking away.

“What the fuck is your problem? Jesus fucking Christ!”

You keep walking, hearing his car door open and the sound of his sneakers on the pavement. His car buzzes irritably at its door being left open while running, but he doesn’t care. You’re sure he doesn’t care about anything, really. He rests a hand on your shoulder to turn you around.

“’m just not in the mood, Eddie.” You snap the second you’re facing him.

But you’re always in the mood, he wants to argue as if that made a difference right now. He lets out a long breath that puffs out his lips as he decompresses, arm bent up to rub his hand on the back of his neck. It’s evident that he’s not used to this, and doesn’t have a clue how to go about it. You eye him in that moment, waiting for him. Waiting for something that made that ache in your chest dissipate and the hole it leaves be filled with a light warmth. Then you’re ready to give up on waiting for something that clearly wasn’t going to happen when he suddenly dips down and drapes you over his shoulder all in one fluid motion.

“I- Eddie-!“

“I- Eddie- I-” He mimics, clearly out of habit and opens the back door to his van to plop you right on top of a random cushion nestled inside. It looks like it’s just a single couch cushion and you wonder where he got only one. Is it from an old couch that was getting tossed anyways? Did he steal it? Who steals a singular couch cushion from the seat of a sofa? And what was that stain on the corner? You’re shifting away from it as he climbs in after you, the tip of his tongue peeking out of the corner of his lips again until the door is shut and he’s settled against it with a sigh.

“Yoo-hoo.”

“What?”

He scratches his jaw as he looks over at you then points at the stain you were avoiding.

“Yoo-hoo. The drink. That’s what the stain is from.”

“Oh… okay.”

Eddie lets out a heavy sigh, his eyes going wide as he fights the urge to roll them while he stares up at the ceiling of his vehicle, and then he finally speaks up again.

“Why are you being all…” He gestures his hands out in a odd way, flopping them a bit before settling them on his legs again. He sighs, tilting his head down and looking over at you again. “I don’t fucking know… you’re not being fun this week.”

Your nostrils flare and your brow creases with a pulse of rage at his words.

“Oh I’m so sorry that I’m not playing your game, Eddie. For your information, yes—as you said so elegantly before— I’m ‘on my rag’ and don’t exactly feel like dealing with you.”

Despite the tone you’re taking with him, a grin is pulling at his face and a few laughs bubble from his chest that were almost like little amused giggles. God, he missed getting you all worked up.

“What? Never got it before?” He suddenly questions.

“I- What?”

He snickers.

“Your rag. The crimson tide. Never ridden the cotton pony before?” He’s having too much fun with this and your face is getting all hot.

“Cause I kinda doubt it. Y’know…” he gestures to your form, “The idea that you haven’t gone through puberty yet sounds fake to me, sweetheart.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well you’ve never acted like this before so unless this is your first week of Carrie...” He hisses an inhale through his teeth.

“My condolences, but look at it this way: You’re finally a woma- hey!” He’s laughing until he’s dodging the random work boot you toss at him—the sight of him scooting away from the projectile actually getting a giggle from you.

“Those ‘r for the garage, doll. Heavy duty shit, can’t be throwing those.” He chastises as he waves the shoe at you, but there’s a weight that’s lifting from him. He got you to just sit and talk to him, and even made you laugh. Even if you’re biting the inside of your cheek now to try and refrain from giving him the satisfaction of your smile. How are things like this right now? Shouldn’t he be bending you over his knee for not acting the way he wanted you to? Shouldn’t he be angry? Shouldn’t he be making you cry?

“I’ve gotten my period before.” You state simply. Eddie puts the boot down, dropping his head back against the interior of his van as he looks at you expectantly.

“Then what? What’s with the bitching and the ignoring and the crybaby shit?” He asks bluntly, making your brow furrow again.

“And not even the good crybaby shit,” he continues in a softer tone as he makes his way over to you, “Where’s my pouty girl, huh? Where’s my brat?”

My. My. It’s making your head swirl, his words and proximity putting up a good fight against this latest impulse to be cold to him. He’s settled in front of you and pulling you forward by your hips.

“Don’t wanna talk about it…” You murmur because he should know. He should’ve automatically known the second he left your room that he fucked up when he didn’t kiss you.

“No? Do I gotta bully it out of you, baby? Should I keep up with what I’ve been doing or are you gonna keep pissing me off with that silent treatment shit if I do?”

Watching your expression, his hands settled on your hips start to massage his fingertips in small circles against your lower back. A sigh falls from your lips before you can even stop it, melting from his touch. He’s massaging that spot that’s been tied up in knots the past couple of days, and taking care of it perfectly. Just when you think he’s suddenly a completely different person he stops the movements entirely. That familiar pout that he loves pulls at your lower lip, clearly disappointed by the loss of his kneading.

“Gonna tell me?” He coos, tilting his head.

Your lips part then close again, faltering on if you should just tell him. He mimics the motion then your pout before grinning at you again. You stay quiet, a new conflict arising inside your head. Should you just tell him and move forward? Should you let him suffer until he figures it out? He deserves to suffer in your book, but who knows how long it would take for him to realize. The man has failed his senior year twice already.

“No? Okay, doll.” He’s separating himself from you now, moving to a corner of his van to start digging through some random stacks and piles there.

He’s going on about how he’d help if he could, but he guessed that won’t happen now. How if only you’d cut lil’ ol’ him a break. His theatrical and bitter words are coated in a soft tone and playful, exaggerated sighs. He’s having all the fun in the world trying to tease you until you just sigh and admit whatever your major malfunction is. It’s lighthearted in comparison to his usual teasing, but even this starts bringing the tears forward.

You hate that he doesn’t know. That it clearly didn’t mean enough for him to notice. You hate that he pulls you in all smooth and sweet to get you intoxicated on him just for him to laugh over it and leave you alone again. You hate how he’s suddenly making you feel cared for just for him to go away again cause he isn’t getting what he wants. Now you’re desperately trying to hide the fact that you’re crying as all of your feelings and aches and pains of this week rush through you.

Sure, he’s seen you cry before but it was never like this. It was teary eyes from frustration or, recently, the occasional sob from how good he made you feel. It’s never been breaking down after a hard week. It’s never sobbing because after all this time the two of you finally cracked, and you’re scared you’re the only one increasingly enchanted every passing second since that first kiss. It was never hiccuping sobs that you were doing your best to push down. Your face is burning, your sight blurry even though tears kept rolling down your cheeks. It’s like there’s a never ending supply to stream down your face and still keep your vision bleary.

“Jus’ sayin’ we could be doing something way more fun right no…w…” He trails off once he finally looks over at you.

He’s holding an unopened pack of cigarettes he had been looking for in his typical mess and pulling out his lighter, but now all his focus is on the way you’re sniffling and shaking. You’re still sat on that cushion, knees up and a hand settled over your mouth with your head turned away from him. A heart-wrenching sob just barely sneaks its way out before you choke it back down. Little huffs are escaping you in a desperate attempt to breathe without letting your need to wail break free. It feels like your lungs are on fire.

“Y/N…” Eddie says in a tender voice that you didn’t think he was even capable of. You shake your head.

“Y/n c’mon…” He tries again with a small, nervous laugh. Nervous you were serious. Nervous that he really made you so upset. Nervous to really show that he cares if he did.

“It’s okay, really-“ Your voice is higher than usual, another heavy breath puffing out before you try to drag it in again just to end up whimpering as another wave of sadness comes over you and you’re too overwhelmed to hold it in. You stay facing away from him as you cry and hiccup, trying to get it back under control.

“I just- it’s stupid, it’s n-ot that big of a deal.”

For Eddie, making you cry is all about the glossy eyes and pouty lips as you stare up at him defiantly or a sign that you need him to quit playing games and fuck you. It’s never been this… brutal. Panic continues to rise in his system, and he’s unsure of how to handle the situation. Once upon a time, he thought he treated you the way that he did because some sadistic part of him liked to always make you hurt, but it was becoming evident that he just liked the play. The banter. The shoving and the glaring and pouting and the wandering eyes. When he acted the way he always did and you didn’t respond or did so in a quiet plea for him to really stop or really cried—it made his stomach clench. The more he tried to keep it up this week the more he realized that when you weren’t playing along he just… he was just mean. Really mean. Not “you’re so awful, just fuck me already” mean, but “you’re making me miserable” mean. And fuck if he didn’t hate the way that felt.

“Is it really that bad?” He murmurs, partially surprised by his own voice when it sounded this gentle. The thin plastic around his cigarettes crinkle under his nervous hands. And he thought he needed a smoke before. “Did I hurt you? Or-or somethin’? Do you need to go to a doctor?”

“No.” You weep, still refusing to look at him and it’s killing him even if a part of him knows he would crumble if he sees how you look right now. God, he hated this. The vulnerability of caring openly and to this extent, but what else could he do? Double down on his usual behavior and kick you while you were already so down you might as well have been sinking into the pavement?

“Y/N, please-“ He tries again and you crack completely.

“It’s just not fair because I thought I wanted this, but it’s to-oo hard. You don’t care enough to stick around. Y-You don’t check in with me. You’ve pushed me around for the past two years and I’m an idiot who thought it was all lighthe-hearted deep down, a-and that you wanted me too.”

You break down into tears again until you put yourself back together just enough so it’s only the constant sniffling and your voice trembling that’s interrupting you. All Eddie can do is stare at you with big brown eyes like saucers while you babble, his brow frowning as he anxiously picks at his fingernails and the skin around them.

“A-And of course I got my fucking period cause why wouldn’t I? Cause why would I catch a break? N-N my body aches and I’m so tired and you… you couldn’t… you didn’t…”

“What?” He’s shuffling a bit closer now, lowering his face like he always did to catch your attention. He was right that seeing your face like this would cave him in, and he wishes he could be dropped into a black hole. He knew he deserved it. At the sight of your current state, he was pulling that smoke he already had his fingertips on and placing it between his lips. He lights it and inhales deeply before letting his hand drop down, cig between his fore and middle fingers, ring finger toying with a tear in his jeans.

“You…” You let out a breath before dropping your gaze to your hands in your lap, tears still slipping down your cheeks and over your jaw to wet your neck and dampen the collar of your top or drop down and land on that skort he hated. “You wouldn’t even kiss me on Sunday…”

You sound horribly deflated at the admission, and his eyes flicker all over your features before the smallest twitches of the corners of his lips start to tug them up even though his eyes hold a sad sort of infatuation within them.

“You kissed me on Friday, but not once on Sunday. And you didn’t even seem to care…” You mumble, glancing over at him once and then twice when you notice the curve of his lips. Your eyes burn with a potential for new tears. “Are you fucking smiling?”

“No—no, well, yeah. Not like that.” He huffs out an anxious laugh. “I just… you ignored me… cause I didn’t give you a kiss..?”

You scoff, lips parted and gaze furious. He is unbelievable.

“Among other things! I-I… ugh! You’re infuriating!” You announce and his brows shoot up, grin widening with interest and he brings his cigarette back to his lips.

“You… you make fun of me constantly. You fuck me and finish in me and don’t even spend time with me after. The least you can do is kiss me. Or… or…” You huff, which was becoming a theme today.

He can’t help but find you cute when you’re angry. You remind him of that temperamental pixie in that old animated Peter Pan film from the ‘50s. He used to babysit a young girl in the trailer park who watched it constantly (much to his chagrin).

“Or you don’t get to have me anymore.” You conclude, and he just keeps staring at you with wild eyes as he smokes.

Your anxieties peak and a voice in your head is screaming to get out of the damn van, even when he’s just casually puffing on a cigarette without a hint of irritation on his face. Eddie lets the cig stick to his bottom lip as his hands find your form to pull you closer to him. His right hand raises to place the smoke between his middle and forefinger, and remove it from his lips. His left hand moves to hook his thumb on your lower lip and part your mouth for him to plant an open-mouthed kiss on you as his smoke floats around you and in your mouth, his tongue hot on yours. The pamphlets your parents gave you about the dangers of cigarettes popped up in your mind as his smoke fills you. The statistics and pictures of smoker lungs mean nothing to you as he kisses you like this.

You’re more than just warming up to the smell you usually couldn’t stand, and you find yourself back where you were on Friday. Willing to take whatever he gives you. As long as he kept kissing you like this. As long as he kisses you like he plans on making you his wife while he fucks you like he’s your high school bully. The kiss is all tongues and muffled moans, your arms wrapping around his neck. You chase after his lips when he finally starts pulling away. An involuntary whimper slid from you as you look at him with heavy eyelids.

“If you want something…” He trails off in a whisper, keeping his half-lidded eyes on you even as he reaches over to tap off ash into a cheap plastic tray. His thumb and pointer finger pinch your chin to keep your focus on him. “You ask, okay? Pretty standard rules, princess.”

“But…”

“But now,” He cuts you off with a soft sigh, head tilting as he looks at you. The eye contact is becoming so intense it’s burning through you. “Now I know this is important for you, ‘kay?”

You’re surprised by this. Honestly you’re shocked by every kindness and touch of patience he provided you today. You would have never guessed Eddie Munson is even capable of such a thing. You nod with your gaze retreating downwards, toying with your hands and he chases after your stare with a tilt of his head to try and get you to look at him again, brows raised up.

“Doll?”

You wipe at the cooling streaks of tears on one cheek with your shoulder then finally look up again, and nod with more confidence this time.

“And…” He looks almost like he’s in pain for a moment before he finally continues “‘m sorry, okay?”

“…Really?” You murmur, eyes wide with shock.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “Don’t act so surprised. I’m capable of an apology, given the right circumstances.”

You eye him, silent with hesitation and shock.

“‘N the right girl.” He murmurs with a soft voice even though he had that shit-eating grin on his face. Why is it always so charming? It’s smug and teasing, but always so endearing.

You don’t know what else to do so you just kiss him. You pull him in by his shoulders and kiss him. You kiss him like you could devour him, body and soul. His arms circle around your waist after leaving that partly-smoked cigarette in the cheap ash tray and drags you closer all while kissing you back. He’s leaning down to place you on the scratchy carpeting and hover over you. Any break for air is short-lived before you’re back on each other. Your hands tangle in the messy curls draping around your head, tugging to pull a groan from him.

“Fuck…” He sighs into the kiss, dropping his body down to put more of his weight on you. He parts from your lips despite your whiny protests and presses kisses and nips to your jaw as he works his way to your neck. His arms unfurl from around your waist so his hands can settle on your hips and let his thumbs massage into your skin. You’re pawing at his vest as he works on leaving a love bite on your pulse point below your ear, and—surprisingly—he moves away to shake the jacket-vest combo off and drop it beside you. You eye the fit of his t-shirt and it makes your mind fog up.

All your focus is on the shape of his tummy against the fabric. The way the material sticks to him and shows all the harsh angles of his toned chest. The fact that he had cut off the bottom hem of his top and when he moves the right way you can see that trail of hair on his lower stomach. The shape of his arms under the sleeves. Does he work out? Considering his lack of discipline, you couldn’t imagine him having an exercise regimen, but dear god. His arms weren’t absurdly cut, but they were still thick with enough muscle that his sleeves seem a little tight. You can see the veins of his forearms and the blown out ink on his skin. When he’s on top of you again, sucking on your neck, you let your hands drag over his back and sneak underneath his shirt. The heat of his skin and the moving musculature alone making your toes curl. You’re happy to have him on you, but you wanted that damn shirt off too. You’re grasping at the fabric and pulling it up, gasping when he bites on your neck for doing so.

“Take that shit off-“ You huff, making a smile tug at his lips.

“Using my lines now, doll?” He purrs once he’s raised up again and grasping behind his head to pull his shirt over it. You can’t even think of a smart reply, your brain short circuiting at the sight of his naked torso. Even though you enjoy it, you never really understood his urge to bite. You sure do now. You shift from laying on your back to sit up in front of him while he remains raised up on his knees. Your hands slide up his stomach, feeling the goosebumps that raise in the wake of your cold fingertips. He’s still for once and you bring your hands back down to pull on his belt, fighting against the stiff leather to slide it out of the buckle.

You’ve never given head before, mainly because the only time there was an opportunity it had been with a guy you didn’t even like that much who kept trying to push your head down while you were kissing; but you felt feverish with thoughts of Eddie’s dick down your throat. While rushing to go down on him was the last thing you had on your mind at the start of your day, after he was so sweet on you, you were desperate to taste him.

Eddie’s breath is staggered as he watches you undo his jeans, his pupils all blown out. He can’t even count how many times he’s fantasized about those lips wrapped around his cock, but he knew after everything that he didn’t deserve to go first. Fuck, he wanted to, but he doesn’t deserve it. Belt open and slack and jeans undone, he grabs your hands to pin them over your head once you were pushed back onto the floor and he leans down to kiss you. One hand holds the side of your face and the other is pulling the zipper on your hip down, muttering a you first against your lips.

Before tugging at your skirt skort, Eddie pulled away again to lift your shirt off. He grew irritable for a moment with the long sleeves that fought him, tossing it aside harshly with a grumble that made you giggle. That gentle laugh was the only thing that lightened his mood again and encouraged a small smile before he continued. He kisses down your body, giving you the occasional bite. There are little things that he does along the way that make parts of you feel beautiful—parts that you either don’t pay attention to or even aren’t fond of. It’s an odd thing considering how mean he always is, but he seems to show a devotion to each and every inch of your skin that wouldn’t occur to most men. The way his hands slide along your sides as he makes his way down your chest, giving you the occasional squeeze. The way his arms slip around your midsection and bring you closer to his face with a press to the small of your back, smothering his face between your breasts still covered by a flimsy, lace bra—breathing in the scent of your skin. The way his hold relaxes as he continues down, just to squeeze you to him again when he finds a new spot he wants to smother himself in. One side of your tummy underneath your ribs. The slight rise of your lower abdomen beneath your belly button. Your hip bones.

You’re so drunk on his touch at first that it doesn’t even occur to you where this is leading until he’s already face-to-face with the center of your underwear.

“E-Eddie- no-“ You squeak out suddenly. “Not that.”

He lifts his head to eye you curiously and with surprise at the denial of getting head, lips parted in a question that you interrupt.

“I’m on my period, remember?”

Eddie half-jerks his shoulder up in a careless shrug. “Yeah, I know. So?”

“It’s just… it’s so messy and bloody. I wouldn’t even want you to eat me out right now if I was still mad at you.”

“Doll, c’mon…” He groans while pressing his face into your inner thigh—not to try and convince you to give consent cause he doesn’t care about this boundary, but rather to show how badly he wants to do this. That he doesn’t care about the mess and he doesn’t think it’s gross, in fact he found it hot. If you were sitting in his bed or in his passenger seat and got your period, his perv ass probably wouldn’t even try to remove the stain.

“I want to.” He insists, pulling away again to look up at you. “I think it would be so fucking hot. It’ll help the pain, princess.”

You consider the offer for a moment, wondering if he’s right. If he could make you feel so good that he’d reach and clear out those aches and pains that Tylenol couldn’t even touch. You still shake your head, the thought of all that blood on his tongue and the smell in his nostrils making you nervous and embarrassed. He groans again and dramatically flops into your stomach to hide his face.

“Not with your mouth.” You clarify, cheeks all rosy.

At that, he finally raises his head with a raised brow and his bangs all messy.

“Oh yeah?”

He’s sitting up now, settling back against folded legs as he raises your legs one by one to take your shoes off and toss them randomly. You tilt your head to watch one sneaker smack the back of the passenger seat, then look to the side to watch your second sneaker smack into the interior with a vibrating clunk. After taking off your shoes, your ankles are lightly settled on his shoulders and he has his hands wrapped around your calves as he tilts his head to press a kiss to the inside of one ankle. Then he’s moving to bite the inside of the opposite knee.

After that, he skips right back to your lips, your legs parted to settle on either side of him now. Eddie hooks his fingertips into the band of your underwear and pulls them down, having to begrudgingly separate enough so you can bend your knees up to your chest while he tugs them off your legs. He’s about to casually pull on the string of your tampon when you shake your head quickly and clasp your hand over your entrance.

“I’ll- I’ll do it.” You murmur and he’s (once again) groaning irritably.

He wishes you wouldn’t be so sheepish about it. He can understand the experience of your period not being the most comfortable thing in the world, but he doesn’t know what he has to do to show that he likes it. That he wants to go down on you and wipe that mess off of his face with pride, therefore not needing to look away at your insistence while you take out your tampon. Maybe it’s his pride in being a freak. Maybe it’s a slight twinge of superiority, knowing that he was one of the few guys that would even offer in the first place. Maybe it’s that breeding kink flaring up at what he saw as a glaring reminder that you could possibly get pregnant with his kid. Maybe it’s just the fact that it’s you. But he lets you do it yourself, holding in his usual attitude for the sake of your sensitivity for once, then leaning back down to kiss you the second you give the okay.

The kiss doesn’t have as much of an apologetic gentleness as the others, but it was passionate and it was hot. The heavy breathing and groping and spit; the taste of cigarettes and mint; the scratch of slight stubble and the bump of his nose against yours. Eddie shot a hand out to feel for his jacket which he promptly crams under your tailbone to raise your hips, then dips his thumbs in the band of his exposed boxers to pull his pants and boxers down. (He didn’t take them off completely per usual, but you took getting him shirtless as your win).

Eddie pulls away just enough to wrap his hand around his cock, giving it a few good tugs before leading it to your entrance. He keeps an eye on your expression, plunging into you the moment his tip slid in. The few times he’s fucked you, you were always so messy and wet and warm, but this was enough to sign his soul away. You were soaked with arousal and blood as expected, but he wasn’t prepared for how much puffier you are like this. And so fucking hot. You mewl at the sensation, a dull ache in your lower abdomen at the start, but it’s slowly dissipating. Maybe it’s the association between blood and pain, and menstruation and pain, but you genuinely thought this would hurt more than usual—you certainly weren’t betting on your heightened sensitivity. Even that first stroke slipping into you lit up your nerves.

“‘S good, right?” He asks with a cocky grin, left hand wrapped around your right thigh and his right hand sliding over your tummy and slowly massaging the area.

You almost don’t want to admit it, but you do with a nod and pouty lips that have pathetic little whimpers slipping past them. Eddie slides back out a couple inches then pushes back into you, your toes curling as a bit of blood and arousal gushes and sputters out around his base. You curse under your breath, encouraging him to proceed. He’s uncharacteristically tender, and while seeing his sweet side today was a pleasant surprise—you just wanted him to fuck you.

“Eddie-“ You breathe out.

“Hm?”

“Please just fuck me.”

His grin is devilish and his gaze is fiery. He snaps his hips forward once without wasting a second, threatening to making your eyes roll back.

“Yeah?” He leans down, his voice a condescending whisper as he stays infuriatingly still while this deep. “My baby come cryin’ cause ‘m too mean? But she still wants me to bully her little pussy?”

You whine and nod your head, his following thrusts nearly punching the breath out of your lungs. His hand rests over your pubic bone and starts rubbing at your clit as he fucks into you. Your head lolls back into the carpeting, breasts bouncing with his efforts.

“Such a good fucking slut for me. This pussy all mine?”

“Uh huh-“ You speak in a whiny moan, hips weakly pushing forward and he takes the hint.

Eddie pulls you forward by your hips and holds you close to him as he gives you breathtakingly shallow thrusts. Your eyes begin to water from the way he’s moving inside you and his thumb is brushing on your clit. His other hand parts from your hip to grip onto the center of your bra, pulling it down to free your breasts and to keep a steady grip on you by the fabric clasped around your chest.

“Eddie-” You sob, and an earth-shattering sense of relief blows through him, leaving him temporarily wrecked before settling again like a gust of wind pushing up bird feathers before they smooth out again. Finally seeing those globs of tears in your eyes in the way he loves brought that balance back, and he’s doubling his efforts. Your lips part and your back arches up off of the carpet of his van, those wet streaks leading from your eyes back into your hair just like they were on Friday.

You’re counting your blessings that you aren’t back in your bed with your parents down the hall during your make up session because even the fear of being caught wouldn’t have been able to stop the moan that gasps from your lungs when you cum around him. All the tension and hormones and yearning of this week mixing with the overpowering pleasure he’s giving you, all culminating to this very moment and making you see stars. You feel like you’ve been temporarily shoved under water, all of the sounds around you muffling—even the sound of your own breathing. Just as you’re floating back up to the surface, Eddie’s leaning down to place his lips on yours. His large hands cover both sides of your face as he’s kissing you like he means it, only letting his hands part from your cheeks to wrap around your midsection and scoop you up while he sits back.

“Fuck-” You breathe out, hands settling to cradle the back of his head. You’re sure you look as disheveled as you feel. He thinks you look incredible.

“I know right?” He teases, all smug even in this quieter tone of voice and he laughs when you smack at his arm.

He eyes you from where his face is level with your chest, watching the playful irritation melt from your expression as he starts thrusting up into you. You’re almost too overstimulated from him moving so close to your orgasm that was still pulsing in the aftershock, but fuck if this doesn’t feel too good to pause even for a moment. Eddie wraps his arms around you to finally unclasp your bra and fling it towards the front of his van, metal hooks clinking against the hard surface of his dashboard. His hands smooth over your back, groaning against your skin as he smothers himself between your breasts again, fucking up into you. You start bouncing on top of him to meet his thrusts, whimpering quietly at the fluttering still rippling through your walls. You still have that palpable pulse inside you, squeezing around him and making it incredibly difficult to not cum before he can get you to let go at least one more time.

“C’n you cum for me, doll? Gimme one more?” He finally separates from your chest to look up at you again and while you were always the one looking fucked out, when you look at him you can’t help but feel like you’re seeing him the same way. A faint shine to his doe eyes glossed over with lust, that rosy tint to his cheeks, and the swell of his pink lips. You nod, but your hips buck in disagreement when his touch is back on your clit. It’s admittedly too soon, your eyes burning with prickling tears as the pleasure jolts through you like shocks of electricity rather than rolling waves—but you certainly weren’t going to ask him to stop.

You gasp out his name, fingers gripping the hair all damp with perspiration at the nape of his neck. You feel like you’re vibrating and the cramping in your stomach nearly makes you break and ask him to stop nudging at that sensitive bud. Your nails dig into the back of his neck, hearing him groan against your skin, feeling his hot breath on your chest. The two of you are moving like the universe would simply unravel if you stopped—as if it isn’t already unraveling in this moment.

“Oh my god-“ You moan and Eddie’s sinking his teeth into your breast—partly to punctuate his claim, partly to muffle his own sounds as he unloads inside of you.

You’re trembling in his lap with soft sobs in the aftershock of probably the most heart-stopping, all-consuming orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Even the slightest touch to your flushed skin sent shocks throughout your nerves and made you cry out, so Eddie stays still.

When both of your hearing is clear again, and you swallow to bring some moisture back to your throat—you let out a small laugh. It isn’t malicious or mocking. It rose up out of pure joy and relief and (honestly) a bit of surprise at everything that’s happened. And it all happened so quickly, you aren’t sure if your memory was able to keep up. God, you hoped it was. You want to relive it every time you close your eyes at night.

Eddie’s licking his lips and pulling back to look at you, a few laughs of his own bubbling up. Like always, he isn’t quick to pull out, but he does set you back down onto the carpet and press a few kisses to your jaw. His hands are pressed into the floor on either side of your head, pulling up his upper body to look down at you. Your hair is messy around your face, and streaks of mascara are all muddled around your eyes and down your cheeks. He put all of his weight on one arm to allow his other hand to raise up and swipe at those black streaks with his thumb before settling back down to kiss you, one arm still pressed up and bent at the elbow and the other settling his forearm on the rug.

The kiss is slower, but still sloppy with exhaustion. He pulls back one more time just to smile down at your face and ends up right back to kissing you seconds later.

*

The sun is setting in Hawkins and the two of you are all over each other until you realize how late it had gotten and your lips might as well have been ready to fall off. But even when you’re dropped off at home with excuses ready, he still climbed in through that bedroom window to keep kissing you once everyone in the house retired for the night.

After all, you finally left it unlocked and he couldn’t stand another week out in the cold.

*

Eddie never did work up the nerve to properly ask you what you meant by that blunt reply that one Autumn day... ↓

CLICK ON YOUR ENDING OF CHOICE:

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[gyuriac]

idontwannabemeanymore | i. sae content: don't lose thy self (idk bro i hate summaries) pairings: sae itoshi x fem!reader (implied cz this is like the sequel of my other work Perdiste, but im pretty sure it's not explicitly said so...) notes: ANGST ANGST ANGST (the mc in first fic is using fem pronouns here bcs i cant write them with they/them in this perspective sorry 😓) kinda bad ugh ihatewritersblock ➜ first part

She was like the sun, the way she lit up the whole room by just existing. Her bright visage was enough to melt even the coldest of hearts. They were akin to moths to flame, Sae just can’t stop longing for her.

You knew he only used you for something, for his ego perhaps. Yet you stayed, played stupid whilst he scrolled through her social media right beside you. 

Only smiling, although with spite, when he immediately agreed when you mentioned her name.

They’ve been scolding you, calling him the most vile words that you didn’t even know, berating you for staying with a moron like him. 

Yes, he has ghosted you on multiple occasions, ignored you unless he had something important to say. But despite all of that, it’s still him.

The Sae who had willingly went outside to the heavy storm just to save you from getting sick yet he himself got sick instead.

It hurts, your heart feels like it's been pricked by needles endlessly before getting run over. You wanted to punch him, scream at him for being such a terrible person-but you also wanted to hug him and tell him how it’s okay and you love him.

It’s a mess and you don’t know what to do.

Alcohol is disgusting. Its bitter substance gives the feeling of your throat burning but it also makes your pain go numb. So you drink, and drink, and drink. Desperately trying to forget that he only agreed because you spoke of her name.

Your hand reached for another glass before it was taken away.

“Hey… that’s miiine. Get your own..” you slurred over your words, arms flailing around as you stood up wobbly. 

The culprit only sighed. “This is your fourth glass, you ought to be responsible and sober yourself up.” He scolded you before bringing the alcohol to his lips before drinking it all in one gulp. His nose crinkled in disgust before shoving the empty glass at the bartender.

You scowled at the sentiment, letting your head rest on the table. “What do you know?” you mumbled quietly while you stretched your arm for another glass.

Despite the loud buzzing like crazy with music and people, he still managed to hear you somehow. 

“I know that you look stupid downing alcohol like it’s water.” He gripped the new glass from your hands. Even though you’re so drunk that you can’t tell your lefts to your rights, disappointment was clearly exuding from him. So you find yourself pouting, Your gaze rose to his face from his hands ; his cyan eyes, full of irritation, dared you to argue back to him.

Rin Itoshi was never a fan of yours. You can vividly remember him tugging on your hair while playing in the sand pit and then you crying before getting comforted by the red head back then.

You stared at him, examining his features, while he asked the bartender for water. It was unsettling, you don’t remember him being able to drink legally nor being taller than you. Your eyes ended up on his sharp cheekbones replacing the once soft chubby cheeks and it hit you how much everything changed.

Sae wasn’t that boy who won’t eat his lunch unless you're with him, he wasn’t-

“Sae! My man!”

Perhaps it was the alcohol in your system, you bolted upright, turning your heel. The confused calling of your name fell deaf in your ears. All you thought was him and only him.

One more time.

If he looks you in the eyes, you’ll stay.

“Sae!” His name slipped from your tongue naturally, like it was just made for his name-him.

“I’m glad you came! It was such a pain managing by myself, thank the gods Rin was here!”

Please,

“How was your practice today? Any improvements lately?”

look at me…

His eyes lingered on your lips for a bit before a call of a name sliced through the whole crowd albeit quite muffled yet you swore Sae’s whole visage lit up like he was just saved from drowning.

And you smiled, tears welling up as you bit your lips hard.

Because no matter what you do to change to yourself, you will never be her. You will never be the one he calls first when he’s drunk nor will you be the one always on his mind.

“I’m sorry.” you murmured, breathing heavily while trying to gather your bearings. He raised his eyebrows, gears not turning in his head. 

With shaky hands, you linked your arms around him, face buried on his neck. Inhaling his musky scent one last time

“I love you so much.” 

Your voice came out as croaky, pulling away from him. 

Your hands found its way to his hair, ruffling his hair roughly that the gel failed to hold its shape. Just as you thought, he looked better this way.

You turned away from him; from your world. You can’t look at him, not when his cold gaze is enough to break your already fragile resolve like glass.

“So…I…” It’s hard to find your words, not when your tears are spilling at this point. Trying to calm yourself with shaky breaths.

You cleared your throat, hands desperately finding something to hold on. “I forgot to do something at home.”

You love him. That’s why you’ll leave him—let him be free of you to pursue her back.

“I’m not coming back, enjoy your night.” 

Like heavy rocks were chained on your feet, it took all of you just to take the first step. A heavy exhale left your lips before you started your stride.

It started slow at first, like a hatchling taking its first step before it hastened.

Because you love him, you wished—prayed even that for once he’ll pick you. Grab your arm, and finally look at you.

© gyuriac . i'm begging you to not put my works in any a.i thingy and please don't plagiarize. I don't own anything but my edits and writing.

[marieracingteam]

If you do request. I have a idea of lance stroll stepping up to be a father of Esteban kid. Esteban doesn't know he has a kid. After reading Lance stepping up to be a father.

Lancey and the word mine – ls.18

stepdad!Lance Stroll | series

word count: 1630

summary: Being away from home is hard for Lance. Esteban, however, is determined to do everything he can to distract his friend from thinking about how much he misses his girlfriend and his little girl, luckily for him, his plan also benefits him a lot.

Lance thought he was still dreaming when he woke up to the cries of a baby. 

Lily rarely cried anymore. She had been through a rough patch when her baby teeth started to fall out and it was common for her to wake them up crying when she couldn't sleep in fear of waking up without teeth. However, the little girl had grown out of that fear and now, luckily, it had been a long time since Lance had last heard the little girl cry.

In any case, that cry wasn't Lily's. Lance could recognise his girl's cry in a million and that, without a doubt, was the cry of another baby, one much smaller than Lily was anyway.

Still disoriented from sleep, Lance sat up in bed trying to find where the crying was coming from. That floor of the hotel was filled with his crew and none of them had hidden a baby in the room, as far as he knew. So where was that noise coming from?

Luckily, Lance didn't have to wonder for long before someone knocked on his door.

On the other side, the driver found his friend Esteban. And the culprit of his crying? The baby in his arms.

“What…?” before Lance could ask anything, Esteban was barging in his hotel room and closing the door behind him.

That baby’s wails becoming even louder in the close space.

“He is sick! I guess? I don’t know what is wrong with him!” Esteban exclaimed handing the baby to his friend.

“Who is this?” asked Lance grabbing the baby.

He couldn't have been more than three years old, despite being tall. Lance hadn't met Lily at that age, but he had memorized enough of all the photos her mother had to recognize the details.

The boy's cheeks were very red and wet from the tears that kept falling. Lance didn't even have to touch his forehead to know that the boy probably had a fever.

“Is that your...?” he tried to confirm.

“I don't know! I guess. His mother left him with me last week, she says he's my son and that I have to take care of him. I'm on the verge of losing my mind, man.” Esteban was pacing the room while covering his ears with his hands.

Lance knew that feeling of desperation when the cries of a child entered your eardrum after a few hours of non-stop wails.

“Ok, don’t panic. He just has a fever. Did he had a runny nose or complained about his ears?” Lance asked checking the baby, who continued his cries.

“I don’t know! I don’t know mate! His mother was at my door after the last Grand Prix, she said she'd come back for him when she was ready. I don't know what to do. I haven’t told anyone else. But I need your help, Lance. He's been eating mashed potatoes, vegetables, or fruit for a week now. And he's got teeth! And now he is sick! Is it because of the flight? They said he is not too young to fly!” Esteban continued rambling for some time.

In the meanwhile, Lance sat down to rock the boy, gently speaking to him in a calming voice. His ear was red and he kept grabbing it, so Lance guessed there was the problem.

Lily also had an ear infection recently after summer vacation. She had been inconsolable and writhing in pain until the children's medicine kicked in. Lance didn't want to even think about the pain the boy had to be going through without treatment.

“Just an ear infection, Esteban. It's okay. Let me get dressed and we'll take him to the ER. He'll be fine soon when he takes something for the pain,” Lance said. And maybe he lied a little when he assured him that everything would pass quickly, but he knew that was what his friend needed to hear. “But you need to call his mother and yours. Probably your lawyer too” he interjected.

“This is too much, man. Too much. I'm not ready to be a father.” Esteban cried. “And what I am going to say to the doctor? I just know is name is Bruno!”

“Ok, relax. Why don’t we call your team’s doctor? They can help you. And you need to tell them anyway. Or what are you going to do with him tomorrow during press? Or while in the car?” Lance questioned while getting dress, the boy still in his arms.

“They are going to fire me!”

“They are goint to fire you anyway if you crash with Pierre one more time! Who cares? Right now you need to think about your son!” Lance exclaimed, making the boy cry harder.

“I don’t even know if he is my son!” Esteban shouted.

“Well, maybe you should start there! Esteban, I know you are terrified right now but you need to put him first while you decide what you are going to do! You need to call your team, first the doctor and next the lawyer.” 

While they waited for the team to arrive at Lance’s room, he couldn’t help but think about how he himself became a father. Unlinke Esteban, he couldn’t point the exact moment he realise he had someone under his care. He had not found Lily one day at his door, instead, Lily had found him one night at her door.

He had never had to make that decision to love and protect her. He had never had to wonder if she was his or not. That had never mattered to him. But he understood why it did matter to Esteban. He understood why he felt the world shif under him and how scary that could be. Lance had been ready for that change but he could blame Esteban if he wasn’t. 

“That was his mother…” Esteban said after he left the room to take a call “She is coming for him”

“What did she said?”

“I texter her to tell her he was sick. She said… She said that he is mine… although she freaked out when I told her I was going to do a paternity test. She probably thought that I would get sick of him and not ask any questions as long as she took him back... in exchange for a good sum of money, obviously. She's on her way and won't bother me again if I don't call the authorities.”

“That's fucked up, man. What kind of mother abandons her son for money without knowing if he's okay? He's just a kid and she's only known you a few nights before he was even bron…” Lance whispered, careful not to wake the little boy that had finally fallen asleep.

“Well yes, but it's not my problem,” Esteban answered, plopping down on the couch in the hotel room. Suddenly much more relaxed and rejuvenated.

“He may not be your son, but it's not right!” 

"So what do you want me to do, Lance? I don’t it is fucked up but it is what it is. I know this all may seem easy for you, man, but you just help raise your girl’s baby, that’s not the same of having a baby or raising one on your own”

Lance knew Esteban was on edge, he knew. Lance knew Esteban was stress and scared, he knew he need to be gentle and understanding with him… but how could Lance be fair when he was the one being questioned about his parenting?

“Why not? Why it is not the same?” 

“Because she is not yours! I know you love her, you know I like her too! But it's not the same as her being your responsibility” Esteban tried to explain.

And Lance did his best not to scream in his face. Esteban was his friend, a good one. He was just stressed and going through some deep issues. But those words were so untrue that it made him see red.

Since when was he entitled to speak about being a father? He had certainly not wanted to be one half an hour ago! Why did no one seem to understand that Lance wanted to be a father to a child who might not be of his own blood, but was so understanding when another man put his lifestyle before raising a child that was his!?

“Lily is mine, Esteban” he said and he realized in that moment that there wasn’t an inch of doubt in him. “She is my baby girl, my responsibility, my duty and my pleasure to care for. When you have a kid for real you would understand. Blood doesn't mean shit when you look at their face and you just know”.

At that, Esteban just nodded even if he didn't quite understand. But it was fine, Lance accepted while caressing Bruno's back when he whimpered. One day Esteban would tell him he was right. Lance himself wouldn't have understood it either before meeting his girls. Life is just crazy like that, taking you to where you belong without expecting it.

And Lance couldn’t be happier with where life had taken him. He just couldn't wait to go back home. To his girls. And he just hoped maybe some day Esteban found something like that too. Bruno too.

Because if there was one thing he would never have doubted, it was that Lily deserved to be loved unconditionally by all the people in her life, her parents above all. Her father hadn't been up to the task, but he would be. Bruno also deserved a family that loved him that way and Lance was not going to let that child go with someone who was not willing to do everything possible to deserve him.

I went a little different with this one, hope you like it!

[jqmalikhsgib]

astrology

two

on the plane ride back to quantico derek stares at spencer with a smirk. spencer tries to ignore him. he had his eyes closed, relaxing. for awhile it seemed to work until he feels two sets of eyes on him.

spencer sighs before turning his attention to the culprits. both derek and emily waiting for spencer to answer whatever question they have on their minds.

“may i help you?”

“so, yn, huh?”

“what about her?” spencer frowns.

“you never told us about her.”

“um—actually i have. multiple times on many occasions.”

“no! you said you had a friend back home who was basically like family. you never told us she was so pretty. what’s the story there?”

“story?”

“yeah? is she the one that got away?”

“the friend who you’ve been secretly crushing on for years but nothings ever happened?”

“the right person, wrong time?”

“this isn’t some novel. she’s just the only person that truly understood my potential.”

“oh come on reid! you can’t tell me that you two don’t have something going on? that hug alone was enough to convince me you’re more than just friends.”

spencer simply shakes his head at what derek was suggesting. “nothing. i mean, she means more to me than a friend, sure! but she’s like—she’s like the sister i never had. yn was there when dad left, mom got sick, when i skipped a few grades, when i was bullied, when i got into college, she was there for it all! she’s the only family i have, besides my mother. nothing ever happened between us. it’s strictly platonic.”

“so you wouldn’t mind if i asked her out then?”

spencer smirks. “go right ahead, morgan. she’ll turn you down so quick it’ll hurt! you’re not her type.”

“what is her type then pretty boy?”

spencer thinks. he shrugs his shoulders before answering. “she’s more into older men. men who take control. basically men who are masculine with a sweet side that’s willing to take care of her, yet lets her live her life the way she wants. men who are tough looking but have a secret nerdy side to them.”

derek hums.

“you just described hotch.” jj states. everyone turns to their stoic boss. he’d been too busy looking at paper work to listen to the conversation his colleagues were having.

he looks up when he sees everyone staring at him. “is everything alright?”

“yeah. just chatting.”

hotch nods before getting back to his paper work.

“i—i guess i did.” spencer states.

truth is, hotch was exactly your type. spencer knew you’d go for someone like him in a heartbeat. he just didn’t know how he felt about that.

you were his family. so was hotch though. you took care of him when he was younger. always fighting off bullies and protecting him from anyone who even looked at him wrong. hotch was like his father. being the one man—other than gideon—he truly looked up to. he protected him in his adult life.

in his eyes, you two were a perfect match. two people who are protectors with dreams that their families never understood. the two of you would understand each other. maybe that made him feel some sense of peace. maybe hotch is the kind of guy you truly needed in your life. not so much romantically, but more stability.

you both loss so much. maybe it’s what you both needed. maybe he could do something about it.

“welcome back my lovelies. i got you guys some donuts and freshly made coffees in the break room. also, reid, you have a visitor. said her name was yn. she’s pretty!” penelope smirks.

spencer nods his head. he walks over to his desk and sees you sitting down. you turn his chair, playing with one of his figurines he leaves on his desk.

“i told you id meet you at your hotel.”

“got bored. but miss penelope here, who i now love, showed me her batcave! she has a kick ass office.”

“thank you, sweets!”

you nod your head. “is it okay if i steal your boy genius for the afternoon?” you asked his team.

spencer looks at hotch for an answer. “all of you go home. you can work on your paper work in the morning.” hotch nods his head before heading to his office.

“ill be right back!” spencer runs after hotch. he gently closes the door behind them. hotch gives spencer his signature frown before sitting down.

“is everything alright?”

“yes, sir! i just—yn is new here. she’s thinking of permanently living here.”

“okay?”

“she doesn’t really have anyone besides me. she’s also looking for a permanent job. i was thinking, you said that jessica being busy with your ex father in law now, she barely has time for jack. you’re looking for a new live in babysitter—”

hotch nods his head. “how good is she with kids?”

spencer smiles. “she loves them! she’s cpr certified too! this would help her so much. she’d have a place to stay and a job!”

hotch thinks for a moment. it would be nice to have someone he could trust to watch jack. he knows spencer has good character in judgement. considering spencer has known you since childhood, you’d be a perfect candidate. he wouldn’t have to rely on some stranger taking care of his child. he’s seen too many cases where parents trusted someone with their kid, only to be a sadistic psychopath.

“bring her in. i’d like to speak to her myself.”

spencer nods his head. he opens the door and motions for you to come in. you simply frown and shrug your shoulders before walking upstairs.

“is everything okay? if you have to work spence it’s totally okay. we can look for places tomorrow.”

“actually, hotch wanted to ask you a few questions. i’ll be right down there if you need anything.” spencer nods his head before leaving. you frown deepens before you sit across from spencer’s boss.

“did i do something wrong?”

“no. spencer was just telling me you were thinking of moving here permanently?”

“yeah. spencer’s the only family i really got. my parents—they’re not completely shit, but they’re not great either. i rather be close to someone who truly believes in me.”

hotch hums. “i get that. im kinda the same way. im not really close to my family neither. how do you feel about baby sitting?”

you cocked your head to the side. “baby sitting?”

“spencer tells me you’re looking for a job. im looking for a babysitter. how do you feel about babysitting?”

“oh. i love kids. always have. i use to want to be a teacher. how old is your kid?”

“jack, he’s eight. he loves to draw, play with legos, and read. he’s a huge fan of superman but he loves batman more. if you ask him though, his favorite superhero is spiderman!”

“im sure that’s not true.”

hotch frowns.

“you fight bad guys all the time. im sure you’re his favorite superhero.”

hotch gives you a small smile.

“i need a live in babysitter. since you need a job and a place to stay, why don’t you just stay with me and i’ll pay you to take care of jack?”

your eyes widened. “really?!”

“yes! it’ll be a huge relief.”

“yeah! i’d love that! thank you. thank you so much—”

“it’s aaron.”

“thank you so much, aaron! you won’t regret this.” hotch nods as you shake his hand.

outside derek looks at spencer. “what’s that about?”

“just hotch offering yn a job as his live in babysitter.” spencer states.

derek, jj, and emily smirk at one another. “you sly dog!”

spencer pretends he has no idea what they were talking about. he just shrugs his shoulders and mentally pats himself of the back.

[miamochi-writes]

Hi! I’m the one who requested the Vash x reader and Wolfwood x reader scenarios of them having nightmares. Thank you so much! You wrote it so beautifully, my heart couldn’t handle how cute and sweet it was! 💖

I wanted to request if you could do the same thing but how would Vash and Wolfwood react separately to the reader getting hurt by someone? Bonus if you write for Knives too? The way you write him is so beautiful too 😭💖

I'm so glad you liked it! <3 And I can definitely take a shot at this :) Hope you like it :)

The Guys Being Protective

Vash

The minute this man finds out you're injured, your well-being is his first priority. He needs to know that you're okay before he decides his next move. If it is a minor injury, like a bruise or no bleeding, he'll probably let out a sigh of relief or give you a quick kiss. Vash is more likely going to caress your face or hold you very close to him without hurting you. He's thankful that you're still breathing and still by his side. Yet, he will remind you to be more careful next time. Vash has already lost many important people in his life, and he's not going to lose you too.

Although, if this injury is serious, Vash's fight-or-flight is going to kick in. He is going to make sure you're out of harm's way and that you get the necessary treatment possible. If anything, he'll try to patch you up with what he has available or rush to find someone to take care of you immediately. Vash is already restless that you're hurt, but would be devastated if your condition got worse.

If you even dare try to brush off your injuries as nothing, you're going to make him feel worse. He's only okay with him doing that to others, not when you do that. He's already beating himself up that you got hurt under his watch and that he didn't prevent it. So be sure to give him lots of cuddles and kisses to reassure him before he spirals. Make sure you tell him that he's not at fault and that you stay by him no matter what he says. He's been through so much, so you comforting him and showering him with kisses should do the trick.

Afterwards, he's going to ask you who did this to you. This man will find and go after whoever hurt you. Because if Vash finds the culprit, this person needs to run for their life. Vash may be Love and Peace, but that goes out the window if anyone hurts the people he loves and cares about, especially when it comes to you. He values you way too much. If he catches the culprit, Vash will make sure they don’t hurt you again. If this person gave you minor injuries, Vash will try to warn them not to do it again. But if that fails or if this person gave you serious wounds, Vash will use his fighting skills or his gun, (no killing obviously) I’m sure of it.

Let me just remind you, this is the same man who took out a good chunk of the Badlands Boys when the people in the Sand Steamer were under attack. Don't forget, this is also the same man who threatened E.G. Mine to disarm the bombs or else he'd make sure he wouldn't get away unscathed. Have you seen Vash angry? He may be babygirl, but he will punch, fight, chokehold, and bite whoever hurts you. Period. Vash will fight for you and your safety until the end of time.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

If Wolfwood finds out you got injured there's a bunch of scenarios of what could happen. But they all to lead one thing, him beating the hell out of whoever laid a finger on you. It doesn't matter if you got a bruise, scratch, cut, wound, or mark, this man is going to be worried sick about you. Despite how cold, stoic, or teasing he is, Wolfwood has a big heart for you. He's cares way too much to brush off your injuries. Although after a minute or two, this man will be seething with rage. No one hurts you and walks away it.

Of course he's going to check up on you and see how bad the damage is. If Wolfwood finds out you're lying about the pain or hiding any other injuries, his anger is going to boil over. Not at you, but at the person who did this to you. But, he would rather you tell him honestly. Wolfwood has the biggest soft spot for you and would hate it if you lied about being fine. This man has already lost Livio, and he refuses to lose you too.

This man is invincible, but you're not. He knows you only have one life and he's going to make sure you live it to the fullest with him. Once Wolfwood is done looking you over, he's hunting down the person who did this to you. He's going to give you the: "I just want to talk to the person is all." Which means, "I'm going to beat the living shit out of this person."

No one messes with The Punisher and his loved ones. Just remember that this man carries the heaviest and deadliest cross weapon in No Man's Land. So imagine the beating this person gets once Wolfwood finds them. It doesn't matter how much they run, Wolfwood will find them and make sure they know what happens if they hurt you or anyone else again. Let's face it, Wolfwood is not going to let this person live unless you or Vash stop or convince him.

Once Wolfwood settles things with the person who hurt you, you're not leaving his sight. He's going to be taking care of you to the best of his abilities and making sure you get plenty of rest. This man will need lots of reassurance from you that you're doing okay so he'll be sticking by you a lot more. Probably going to cling onto you with hugs and kisses and giving you his lollipops. Call him Nicholas from time to time in private and this man will be putty in your hands.

Knives Million

Knives is someone who rarely wears his heart on his sleeve. But if it involves you, he'll only show his feelings in private with you. So imagine what is going on with Knives internally when he finds out someone hurt you. That stoic face? Gone. Composure? Shaken up. His blades? Ready to cut someone up with no hesitation.

If you're a human, Knives knows that humans are delicate and don't live long compared to him. If he sees a cut or a minor scratch, he'll tell you to be mindful of your actions. He knows those kinds of wounds will recover in no time. However, if he even sees a bruise, any deep cuts, or bleeding, Knives is not going to let that pass.

If you're a plant and Knives finds out someone hurt you as mentioned above, there's no stopping him from seeking revenge. Knives will send Con'rad to tend to your wounds. If Con'rad doesn't do a good job of patching you up, the plant will have a long and menacing talk with him alone. If you can bring joy, solace, or even fill the lonely void Knives has within him, of course he's going to hold you in high regard. You are beyond special to him and will make sure no one lays a finger on you. Or rather, make sure no one takes you away from him.

Knives will demand you tell him who did this to you. If it was someone from outside his humble abode or lower ranking men that hurt you, he's going to off them immediately. Plus he never liked most humans, so less people for him to worry about. However, if he finds out it was one of the more important men like Legato, Con'rad, or any other high ranking follower...good luck. He's probably going to make their punishment slow and painful. Knives will reiterate what happens if they dare even hurt you and that they should consider themselves lucky that he's keeping them alive. He’ll probably make an example of someone if he catches them hurting you again.

Once he's done taking care of things, Knives will go check up on you to see how you're doing. He will take time out of his schedule, more importantly his alone time, to see you. Knives needs to know that you're doing okay and healing from your injuries. If you visit him while he's playing piano, he'll beckon you to sit with him and play you a song. If you try to play along with him, you're going to brighten this man's day.

[jewels-writes]

deception (captain price x reader)

Warnings: None.. yet >:) Word Count: 1,434 Fandom: Call of Duty Pairing: Captain John Price x Reader Notes: There's a pre-established relationship between the reader and Price, you two are already dating when this story takes place. This is the first part of a longer series so please stay tuned!! As always, this is poorly proofread so apologies for any inconsistencies or grammatical errors. Part 2 Part 3 — — — —

It had been tense since you’d heard. Since anyone heard. You remembered your eyes locking with Price’s when Laswell made the announcement, cutting the mission short. Now you and the 141 were crammed into the back of the cargo truck, untrusting gazes passing through everyone. It was one of you, though the culprit would never admit it. 

One of you was a spy. A traitor. 

You sat between Price and Soap, your hands fiddling in your lap. The nerves ate at you, that there was a spy sitting in the same truck as you. Sickness welled up inside you, you couldn’t handle the thought of one of your friends, of heaven forbid your lover being the one compromising the team. 

You were sure everyone else felt the same. You could hear everyone’s tense breathing as their eyes scanned their teammates. You could see Ghost glaring at you from where he sat across from you, his gloves making a noise at how tight he held his gun. You swore he could dent the metal if he tried hard enough. 

It remained uncomfortably silent the entire bumpy ride back to base. 

When you got back, there were glares from every other unit when the 141 walked by, reasonably so. You were sure they’d also been notified, why else would they look like they wanted you dead. Despite everything, Price stayed close to you. He was your boyfriend, after all. His hand rested on the small of your back, never once wavering, even with the sickening knowledge you both now held.

“You’ll be alright. Everything will be okay. I’m sure this was a mistake.” His gruffy voice reassured you.

You knew how this went, what the protocol was. You were ready for the inevitable questioning and tests that came with such an incident. Soon you and the 141 stood before the single interrogation room, the window to the room revealing that Laswell and another agent sat across from an empty chair.

“I’ll go first.” You muttered, knocking twice on the door before entering. Inside, Laswell sat at the head of the table, her piercing eyes locked onto you. There was no kindness or sympathy in her gaze, only the steely determination of someone who was determined to root out the truth. You could feel the weight of suspicion hanging in the air, choking the room with its intensity.

“Sit,” she commanded, gesturing to the empty chair opposite her. You complied, taking a seat and trying to maintain your composure As you sat down in the hard metal chair, you felt a shiver run up your spine. The entire situation made your blood go cold. You couldn’t process how someone could be a spy. Laswell leaned forward, her voice cold and measured. “Tell me, soldier, what were you really doing during the mission? What information did you share?” As the questioning started, you shook off the nerves, realizing the need for professionalism and honesty. 

You met her gaze with a practiced steadiness from years of being a soldier. “I did as I was instructed. I followed orders and completed my assigned tasks. I didn't share any information with anyone outside the team.”

Laswell's eyes narrowed, watching your every word and facial expression. “And what about your relationship with Captain Price? Have you noticed anything suspicious or peculiar about him? Any conversations that raised your suspicions?”

Your heart skipped a beat, the mention of Price striking a nerve. You had to be careful, to protect him at all costs. Your relationship with him was public, you had nothing to hide. You knew he was a good man. 

“Captain Price is an exceptional leader and my partner. We trust each other implicitly. There's nothing that raises any suspicion on my part.” As you watched her scribble down information onto a notepad, you followed up, your tone accusatory. “You’re not seriously suspecting Price of all people, are you?” 

Laswell's gaze hardened, her eyes narrowing further. “Let's not jump to conclusions just yet,” she replied, her voice laced with a subtle hint of irritation. “We can't afford to rule anyone out at this stage. Everyone is under scrutiny, regardless of their rank or reputation.”

A flicker of anger flashed across your features. How could she even consider Price, a veteran soldier, as the spy? He’d risked his life countless times for the greater good, and his loyalty was unwavering. It felt like a personal attack, an insult to both you and Price.

“I understand the need to be thorough,” you retorted, your voice firm and resolute, gaining some volume as she spoke of your lover. “But questioning Price's loyalty seems baseless and disrespectful. He's proven himself time and time again, and his loyalty to this team is undeniable.”

Laswell's cold gaze bore into you, her expression unreadable. “No one is immune to suspicion, soldier,” she replied curtly. “We will pursue every lead until the truth is revealed. Including your Captain.” She paused for a moment before continuing in a lower tone. “Do not let your emotions blind you to the truth.”

You clenched your fists, fighting to contain the rising frustration within you. Despite the anger coursing through your veins, you knew you had to tread carefully. Pushing too hard might only raise suspicion against innocence. Swallowing the bitter taste of your words, you forced a neutral tone.

“I understand, Kate,”  you said with a deliberate calmness. “I'll cooperate fully with the investigation. But I stand by Price. I believe in his honor and loyalty to this team.”

Laswell leaned back, her gaze still fixed upon you. A moment of silence lingered in the room, thick with tension. Finally, she spoke with a dismissive wave of her hand, indicating you were free to leave.

“We'll see about that,” she murmured, her voice tinged with an ominous warning, as if she knew something that you didn’t.

As you left the room, it took everything you had to not let the door slam. Your anger had simmered to the edge, threatening to overflow. Price, who’d been watching the entire time through the small window, rushed to your side, seeing your upset state.

“What happened in there, love? Talk to me.” His voice was low and soothing, desperate to ease your troubles. As he reached you, his hands went to both of your shoulders, forcing you to look up at him.

“Laswell suspects you. You were all she would bloody talk about.” Your voice was trembling, giving way to your inner turmoil.

Price's hand tightened on your shoulders, his gaze narrowing in concern. He could sense the anger radiating from you, and his brows furrowed in response. “She suspects me?”  he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. “That daft woman must be blind if she thinks I'm the bloody spy.”

His grip on your shoulders loosened, his expression softening with understanding. “Look, love, I know it's infuriating. But we can't let it get to us. We can't let it tear us apart.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “We'll find the truth, together. We'll expose the real traitor and clear our names.”

“How will I be able to trust then?” You asked helplessly, your voice charged with stress. “These are the people I let protect me on the field. How am I ever supposed to heal if there is actually a traitor? And we’ve been deceived?”

Price's gaze softened, his voice filled with understanding as he spoke softly. “Trust is a fragile thing, love. But we can't let that fear consume us. We've been through hell and back together, and that counts for something. If there is a traitor, we'll expose them, and we'll do it as a team. We won't let them shake our faith in each other.”

He took a step closer, one of hands moving from your shoulder to gently cup your cheek. “You're strong, soldier. Stronger than you give yourself credit for. And I'll be right by your side, every step of the way. We'll get through this together, and we'll emerge stronger on the other side.”

Price's thumb brushed against your cheek, his touch offering a soothing comfort amidst the chaos. “Believe in us, in our bond. We've faced worse odds, and we've come out victorious. This is just another battle that we'll conquer. Trust me.”

And with those words, he pulled you into a warm embrace, enveloping you in a sense of security and love. In that moment, you felt the weight on your shoulders slightly lighten, and a flicker of hope flashed in your mind. You had to pray that he was right. — — — — As always, my requests are open. Send a message if you would like to request anything

[ssoruko]

my predictions (bingo?) for drdt, chapter 2 culprit and also everything beyond, because i'm hyped, and why not!!

the original version of this post was too long and i was yapping. it felt like i was saying everything there is to say, but also nothing of real importance, so i decided to throw everything here, without all my overcomplicated rambling (some stayed though), and hope for the best that this will satisfy the fixated monster in me that needs to get my thoughts out there. also it will be fun to see in the future what was right or wrong.

so, for all of these predictions, please assume that my reasoning is either:

theorists made such well put together points that i checked the evidence on my own while also overanalysing the heck out of it and now i'm convinced

there's not much concrete proof but i think it would make narrative sense, or it would be a great direction for some character's development from what we've already seen of them

i don't even know but sometimes we just vibe and sometimes things are real in our hearts

funny thing is that i find drdt so interesting with how it handles its themes, how it foreshadows, establishes, and resolves, that i'm not actually certain about any of these. my mind wants to analyse it like it's a standard danganronpa game, like it's easy to predict smaller plot points because of the obvious bigger picture, but the special thing about drdt is that i have no idea what the whole bigger picture really is. all i know is that we're focused on trust and distrust, and we will surely follow that path, but i actually have no idea what else is in store. and i'm rambling again but bear with me. point is: i like the writing for drdt and i know i'm not prepared for whatever will be happening later down the line.

so now, for my small predictions bingo:

as most of the community on tumblr thinks, eden and levi are culprit and possible accomplice. that's the part i'm almost sure of, one of them is getting executed. i, however, am not sure who played which role. i'd like to think levi is the one who came up with most of the plan to help eden win the trial, and he's the one with the secret of killing before the killing game (which arei got), but i can't tell why exactly eden would kill arei. eden is not secretly evil. logically there should be some trick here, or it was an accident, but the eden thing to do would be to immediately admit she did it. unless that's where levi comes into play, and he's the one who pulled even more strings, not only setting up the crime scene, but also getting eden to play along. which makes me think eden would still be the one qualified as the blackened, then levi gets to blame himself and gets sick development or whatever. and maybe he lives to try to kill or at least beat the shit out of ace but ace will not die. let's say i'm going with that. eden is the culprit

whit has some special role. he's either the mastermind, or traitor, or key to ending the game, or whatever you want to call it. there's something off about whit with how he seems to know too much

rose sleeps a lot so i think there must be a point in time where someone uses that to accuse or even frame her for murder. although i don't think she will ever get killed when sleeping. i think she's going to be a survivor

ace won't be a victim, and he doesn't seem like a culprit either, so by process of elimination he needs to survive the game

david is not evil or malicious at heart, it's his depression talking. we're dealing with someone burnt out from keeping up his optimistic persona. all this act is self-sabotage and self-deprecation. he cared for arei and now he's spiraling. he will get better though, trust

i know i already talked about chapter 2 culprit but quick hu mention: she is not the culprit simply because i have no idea what her character really is yet. all i know is she is morally grey and she will not die yet because she needs to interact with nico, david, and others some more

arturo is not going to make friends with anyone other than maybe veronica, because everyone hates him, BUT he will not die that soon. i can feel him surviving at least one more chapter just out of spite. if he dies, it's not earlier than chapter four

j will not kill and she will not survive to the end. she will be a victim. my guess is chapter 3, for no particular reason.

contrary to the two points above, there's an alternate scenario i have in mind, with arturo dying next chapter and j being accused, but still innocent. and she would still become a victim later in the game, probably chapter four

veronica is too much of a wild card but if i were to predict something regarding her role... IF she was a blackened (and i can't tell if she will be), she wouldn't be all that happy or excited about it. there would be some reflection on her part. some subtle commentary on how enjoyment of darker media doesn't, or shouldn't, equal supporting or resorting to real violence. also basically everyone in the fandom agrees her secret is the one about harming herself just to feel something. this ties to what i said, i think. maybe she would kill to test herself, but taking a life will not bring her contentment

teruko will trust less before she learns to trust more (especially if eden really will die), but if there's someone she will learn to trust first, it's going to be charles. if she gets a "pep talk" about trust, it's somehow going to be from david. one asshole to another type of conversation where he's trying to help because he does genuinely care for his classmates

nico will not try to kill anyone again, but they also won't survive

this is probably all, i don't know because i wrote this at night and fell asleep. if anyone other than me stayed to read this, thank you for coming to my ted talk

[skyward-floored]

Hi hello, I got inspired by a thing and wrote an Incredibles au fic about Malon and Hyrule this afternoon, hope you all enjoy :)

I felt so bad for Hyrule writing this aaaah he’s just a little guy... good thing he has Malon <3

Ao3

————————————————————

CRASH

Malon jumped at the sound of something breaking in the kitchen, nearly dropping the basket of laundry she was holding. There was a telling silence after the crash, and she felt a surge of exasperation, squeezing her eyes shut.

It had already been a stressful day— Wind was sick, and Legend was starting to come down with something as well, and Malon had gotten behind in the laundry checking up on the two of them. Four had been clingy up until she’d put him down for a nap, and she’d also had to break up no less then three separate arguments between Wild and Legend, the latter extra grumpy because of his sore throat. Malon’s patience was rapidly unraveling, and this was just the icing on the cake.

She held in a groan, and set down the basket, tromping into the kitchen with her hands on her hips.

“Wild, if you broke my vase because you haven’t been being careful with your super speed again, then you’re going to be in some serious trouble mister—”

But Wild wasn’t who Malon found when she walked into the kitchen. Rather Hyrule was standing next to the sink, eyes wide as he stared down at the mess of what looked like a shattered cup, broken pieces and spilled water all over the floor.

“...Hyrule? What happened?” she asked, surprised at not seeing the usual culprit. “Did you drop a cup?”

He startled at her voice, and seemed at a loss for words, looking between her and the mess without saying anything. Malon raised an eyebrow when he didn’t reply, and gestured to the mess again.

“Hyrule, did you drop your glass? Or did somebody else?”

Malon took a step towards Hyrule as she spoke, but the second she did, his shoulders shot up, and he quickly stepped back from her.

“I-I did, but I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Hyrule said frantically, backing away from Malon. “I’ll— I’ll fix it, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

She immediately stopped moving towards him, looking at Hyrule in surprise at his reaction.

“Honey, it’s only a glass, you don’t have to be upset,” she said with a worried look, but Hyrule only seemed to get more panicked, backing away until his back hit the wall.

“I’m sorry, it— it was an accident! I wasn’t trying to, I’m sorry I’m sorry—”

“Hyrule, it’s okay—”

“I’m sorry! Please don’t punish me!”

His voice broke on the words, and Malon studied him for a moment, alarm bells ringing in her mind. All of a sudden she realized what was happening, and her heart fell straight to her shoes.

Hyrule must have had this happen to him before, when he wasn’t living with them.

During the period of his life he refused to talk about.

Oh.

“Link,” Malon said steadily, as Hyrule sank to to the ground, curling up on himself at the name. Oh no, bad choice. “...Hyrule,” she tried again, “it’s okay, I’m not mad.”

Her son had begun to shake, his eyes welling with tears, and Malon was starting to feel at a loss, unsure of how to help without making him more upset. She looked around, then carefully lowered herself to her knees, far away enough to not crowd Hyrule, but close enough to provide comfort if he decided he wanted it.

“Hyrule,” Malon said softly, and he looked at her with a scared expression. “It’s okay. It was an accident, and we can easily clean it up. I’m not going to punish you for making a mistake.”

“B-but I broke it, I was clumsy, I’m sorry I—”

“Honey, it’s okay,” Malon soothed. “I can’t tell you how many times your father has knocked into things and broken them because of his eye. Maybe I get annoyed at him for a little while, but he never does it on purpose, and we clean it up together.”

Hyrule didn’t say anything, tears still slipping down his nose.

Malon bit her lip, then cautiously scooted closer to her son, making sure he was okay with it before moving. Hyrule watched her sharply, but didn’t move away, and she carefully set her hand on his shoulder, rubbing it with soft circles when he didn’t throw her off.

Hyrule slowly relaxed at her touch, and his shoulders lowered. His shaking began to still as they sat there in silence, and eventually he let Malon move closer, until she was right next to him.

“It’s okay, honey,” Malon repeated in a gentle voice, and Hyrule wiped his nose on his sleeve. She exhaled, and brushed some tears off his cheek, then met his eyes. “It’s only a cup. I know it was an accident.”

“You’re not gonna hu... do anything?” Hyrule whispered, and Malon shook her head.

“Oh honey, no,” she said in dismay, and pulled him into a hug, loose enough that he could pull away if he wanted to. He didn’t though, instead sinking into her arms with a quiet sigh. “It was an accident. Everyone breaks things sometimes, you didn’t do anything wrong. After all, it’s not like you emptied my cupboard and started throwing cups just to be destructive.”

Hyrule let out a soft giggle, so small Malon could barely hear it, but it warmed her heart anyway.

“It’s okay,” she repeated, and Hyrule rested his head on her shoulder. She sat with him on the floor for a while longer even though she had things to do, holding him while he finished calming down. Everything else could wait right now.

“I’m really sorry I broke it,” Hyrule whispered after a while, and Malon ran a gentle hand through his hair.

“I know. And it’s okay, Hyrule. It was an accident.”

She pulled back and smiled at him a little worriedly, brushing a hand through his hair again.

“Now let’s make sure you don’t have any glass stuck in you, then we can clean up this mess,” she said warmly, and Hyrule nodded, looking relieved. Malon helped him up, and over to a chair so she could check him over, and cleaned the few tiny pieces of glass from his foot.

But even as Malon bandaged up Hyrule’s foot, and he helped her clean up the shattered cup, the image of him begging her not to do anything to him stayed in her head, making her chest hurt more and more every time it replayed.

Nobody is going to hurt you like that again, Link, she promised silently as he helped her sweep up the last of the glass. Nobody.

[riddles-n-games]

TIG AU One Shots: Gymnastics Pt. 1

Pairing: Avery and Jameson Summary: A gymnast's mantra is to never touch the floor when they are on bar for any reason other than when they are finished their routine. Falling is not an option, that's why there is someone to catch them when trying a new move. Will Avery let her new partner do the same? Length: Moderate Story Type: One Shot

A/N: It's someone's 22nd birthday per our timeline today and it's also his champagne bday per that logic too. Happy birthday to our one and only ticking time bomb, Jameson WINchester Hawthorne.

“You know you could just ask me to spot you?

“You know you could just leave me alone."

He grinned. "Ahh, but then who would catch you when you fall?"

"Your brother, my assigned partner." She didn't wait for his next retort and did a warmup flip.

One.

Two.

Three.

When she got to five, she stopped and jumped off to get more chalk. However, much to her chagrin, Jameson was still there. He walked up and leaned against the wall in front of her. She did her best to keep her eyes focused on her task as she smoothed the chalk onto her palms.

"Well, actually, Coach has reassigned Xander with someone else. To Max.” Her head snapped up at that. His smile widened; he loved catching her off guard. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

"Pretty sure he would tell me immediately if that happened. And if that's the case, why hasn't Coach come to tell the rest of us?"

He put his hands up in defeat. "Hey, you can go ask Al if you don't believe me. And Coach is sick today, I just happened to see her this morning when she was in her office. I was taking a drink when she saw me and called me over to talk about the change."

She raised a brow skeptically but eventually gave a slow nod. “Ok. Well, thanks for letting me know. I’ll call you when I need to-" A hard smack against the vault table and the giggles that followed broke her off. Jameson looked up and Avery turned, following his gaze to find the culprits haphazardly entangled; Xander and Max. She blinked. There they were, not even a full five minutes after the switch was revealed, conveniently together. Traitors.

Her best friend was sprawled all over her former partner, Xander's arms wrapped around her back and they were still laughing. It seemed that Max was the one who'd been vaulting but made an error and landed on him as he tried to valiantly save her from the failed attempt. Yep, that was very characteristic of her BHFF, sacrificing himself for the greater good, when it benefited him, that was.

But that's not what was getting to her. Max’s too wide grin, Xander’s dreamy look, his hands lingering at the small of her back, the way she wasn’t scrambling to get off him… How had she missed this? She knew they were good friends, they all were, but they hadn't seemed close in that way before.

She glanced back at Jameson to see what he was making of the situation and found him smirking amusedly as he watched the pair. He must have felt her eyes on him because his gaze locked onto hers and he raised a brow in question. Avery tilted her head in their direction and he only shrugged, his smirk turning into that crooked smile when he was being genuine. It was cute-No, don't go there.

At the moment, she had to be the bigger person and get to the bottom of her friends' deception so she started striding over to the vault mat.

"Xander!"

"Go easy on him, Avery!"

She stopped in her tracks and twirled around, pointing an accusing finger at Jameson. “You knew about this, too? How long?” Her answer was nothing more than laughter from the definitively guilty party and a mischievous wink. A while then. She rolled her eyes. "Don't think I'm letting this go, Hawthorne. I'm coming after you later."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he called after her as she resumed walking over to Xander and Max. It was time to get answers.

──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──▶──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──◀──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──

Xander and Max. Max and Xander. Alexander and Maxine. Maxine and Xander. Maxine and Alexand-Ok, that’s enough. She was getting overwhelmed. No, she was definitely already overwhelmed.

She was happy for her best friend, there was no doubt in her mind about that. Xander was a great guy and Avery would be the first to advocate for him; after all, he helped her through some of her darkest times. Max and him got along very well and when they teamed up on game nights, they were top tier menaces. The chemistry was there from the start.

So how did she not notice what was going on right under her nose? If there was anything that Avery prided herself with, it was being observant yet here she was. 4 months, that’s how long they’ve been together without her realizing.

She thought herself a fairly attentive friend; after harder trainings, they'd go out to the local cafe, post work shifts, she'd offer her to stay for milkshakes, on shorter lesson days, she'd suggest the library or the mall so they could be together while they did schoolwork. And then there was the obligatory, at least once per month, reserved "catch up" day on a weekend where they would spend the entire day together to rant about anything and everything in their personal lives.

But truth be told, that hadn't been the case in the last while. She'd been busier lately, advancing a level opened up a whole new set of competitions and that meant dealing with new competitors, learning new tricks, practicing new routines, longer trainings, twisted ankle, new job, sleepless nights, the list went on. For six months, her life had barely been hers. Their last catch up day had been two months ago after a successful comp which even then had been hard to schedule because of the crazy prep training. It hadn't been for lack of trying on either of their ends, but it was clear; their lives were shifting dramatically and things were amping up for both of them which is exactly what gave Xander an opening.

While Max and her still spent a lot of time together during training, the schedule demanded certain things from them which took away the uniformity they had. However, Xander's was untouched and when Max had her breaks, she was still training which gave him the perfect opportunity for them to bond. Her change in job also inhibited on some of their former free time but Max had finally started an internship which somehow brought her closer to Xander since he also interned there. And now, most recently, the partner change.

Jameson Winchester Hawthorne. Jameson. Jamie. Her new partner. She tested it out in her mind. Avery and Jameson. Jameson and Avery. It had a nice flow in theory but would it work in reality?

Jamie was certainly a character; he was Xander's older brother, Max's former spotting partner, rings and parallel bars extraordinaire, his skills on vault took him to new heights every time, and he had a knack for solving riddles. He was also very flirty and a charmer which of course made him a hit with the ladies. Coach chewed him out for that often. He couldn't help it, he was a looker as his Nan would say and he was handsome, Avery couldn't deny that.

They were good friends with a funny dynamic where he would tease her and she'd pretend to be annoyed at him. But when they paired up during escape rooms or mystery games, they were unstoppable which proved that he was formidable as a teammate. And Avery was somewhat grateful for it. However, he also had a terrible habit of being flirtatious with her. One of his favorite games was "Ask and Reject"; he'd ask her on a date and she would deflect, then he'd make a joke at how she wounds him so and she'd roll her eyes. That was the script every time without fail.

While it was all in good fun, she had to believe that part of it was done intentionally. He liked her, she was sure of it, why else would he keep pursuing only her? Jameson was cute, she'd admit silently, he was good-natured as much as he tried acting a player and she certainly didn't mind when he was shirtless on the rings.

So there was an attraction there and she did like him but dating was a hassle. She was busy and a boyfriend would just be a distraction; why bother? It was better like this, that way no one got hurt and she could let herself get a taste of what it's like being wanted, just a tiny bit to keep on dreaming what could be. It was necessary torture even if the romantic inside her died a little each time.

Having finished her 10 minute break, she stopped fiddling with her hair and took a swig from her water bottle before going over to the warm up area to stretch again. Every so often Avery liked to do some mid-training stretches to refocus on her next set of exercises and assess her limbs for any damage. She'd just started twisting her core when she spotted Jameson recovering post pommel horse practice and he was flexing his arms in that way when the upper back became stiff. He was turned to the side and his shirt rode up a bit, flashing his abs for a brief moment and she froze like a deer in headlights. It happened a few more times before he started to turn and she quickly looked down before he could catch her staring. The teasing would be endless.

She continued her stretches, pointedly avoiding looking his way until she was done and went back to the bars. Only once she got there did she feel eyes on her and she looked up when her gaze locked on his. He smiled crookedly and winked to which she looked away and rolled her eyes. As she blew at a loose hair, she heard him yell across the room, "Good luck, Grambs Cracker."

"Thanks." With a steadying breath, she jumped up and righted herself in the air before flipping. She exhaled. What to practice? Coach had given her a list of moves she should start practicing for her next routine which included Wieler kips, some Endos, quite a few pikes, hip circles and some new transitions that she hadn’t incorporated before. It was all very demanding but she was up for the challenge. She’d just try the transitions later when she got a groove going.

And so it began.

──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──▶──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──◀──◆─◈─◇─◈─◆──

Pike. Twist. Handstand. 360 turn. Straddle. Release. Transition. Low bar land and back flip. Rest. Cast. Maloney. Back to the high bar. Her body swung backwards with the movement. Let the force of the swing guide your body into the next skill. It’s easier to let momentum do the work for you than fighting it. That’s what Coach had told her many times when she was but a young starry-eyed overachiever. Think of yourself as a pendulum and the momentum is what helps you make magic. She did it then.

Her legs were nearing the top; locking in. Inhale. Peak. Hold. Release. Exhale. She embraced the rush of adrenaline as the pull of gravity took over and increased her speed before she swung forward into another handstand. And that is the art of the swing. Another brief pause, just enough time for a split second decision. Blind change. Her choice could only be a pike skill but what would it be? Church, Galante, or Ricna?

Coach was very excited for her to be doing more variations with pikes and Stalder since she'd been good at using them in combinations before. One of these days, she might even make her own skill and Avery didn't want to disappoint when she did.

It'd been a few days since she last practiced the moves so she might as well start with a favorite. Galante it was. But first, a few pike circles to warm up. She let her legs fall forward and pointed her feet at a 90 degree angle just as she swung down again and her feet touched the bar.

One.

Two.

Three.

She was ready. On the fourth rotation, she pushed back into a handstand and imagining like the audience just went completely silent, she dropped on the beat. Her body bent in half by the time she reached the midpoint and then her legs split into a straddle just as she was about to complete a full circle. And then, she let go. She was airborne.

In moments like these, she believed she could fly in the same way she was sure the spectators were convinced gymnasts could touch clouds just by a leap and a bound high enough. There was no fear, just bliss and the thrill of the next flight, no matter how short it was. Just like that, it was over and she reached for the bar. Steadying herself for the wood grooves rubbing against her palms, her fingers made contact but only briefly. The tips of her fingers brushed downward only to be met with air again as she felt her right ankle hit the bar.

THWACK!

Pain shot through her leg as the force of the hit rebounded her at an angle, leaving her grasping at air as she fell downward to the mat. She was sure her soul was leaving her as her stomach dropped in realization. This isn't happening. Suddenly, her hair whipped into her face, swiping at her eyes sharply, making her blink.

"JAMESON!" She heard someone yelling from afar. Max. Just as she thought she would hit the ground, keeping her eyes shut and bracing for impact, rapid footsteps bounded in her direction. Next thing she knew, arms were wrapping around her torso and pulling her upward, causing the blood flow to go back up to her head. She grimaced and refused to open her eyes. The sound of heavy breathing filled her ears and warm hands around her upper back and thighs grounded her.

Someone was holding her, she didn't know who yet. "Avery, are you okay?" She shook her head before reflexively bringing a hand to her forehead when it started throbbing again. But that voice. Jameson. He caught her; that made her open her eyes before she ultimately regretted that too. The brightness blinded her and she closed her eyes again, bringing her hands to cover them. "Hey, easy now. Take your time, we don't need you losing your eyesight."

She felt him lowering her to the mat and withdrawing his arms from around her as she felt him shift his weight next to her. Her skin immediately shivered without his touch. "Keep breathing. In and out, slow. Good, can I take your hands off your eyes now?" Avery nodded numbly. Gently, his hands wrapped around hers and pried them off her face, rubbing soothing circles into her palms as she finally dared opening her eyes. She did it slowly this time like he suggested.

"There she is." He smiled softly at her and placed her hand on her knee before cupping her cheek. She leaned into it. She needed this. That really shook her. Things like that happened rarely to Avery Grambs; that's why she liked bars most compared to other events. She was so certain of herself and it's why she was the best in the gym in the skill. It's why there were so many gold medals hanging on her wall. But even a champion falls, that was something she always had to remember. All of them.

Just because you're at the top that doesn't mean you're not going to fall. Remember you're only human. When you're at the top, the only way is down and it can be a nasty fall, kid, Nash's voice echoed in her mind. His brothers had learned that the hard way too many times.

"Do you want to get up?" Jameson's soft tone coaxed her out of her thoughts and she looked at him startled. "You wanna get up?" The question was repeated.

"Y-Yeah."

"Okay, let me help you." He leaned back on his knee and she let him grasp her hands. "Ready?" "Yup." She exhaled, focusing on pressing the balls of her feet into the mat for grip. "Okay, on three. One, two, three." With sudden speed, he'd pulled her up and took her off balance, making her smack into his chest like a ragdoll. His arms wrapped around her instinctively and didn't move from her waist when she righted herself. Both of them were red in the face and panting.

"You good?"

"Yeah, been better, though."

He chuckled. "I'm sure." Then his expression turned sober. "But you sure scared me shitless, Aves. I was barely there on time. Please let me know when you're doing the newer routines so I can be ready to spot you. It doesn't take away from my time to keep you safe."

She could only nod. There was nothing she could say in protest. He was right which was a rarity for Jameson. But in this case it worked.

"Good. I'm glad we got that straight. I'd ask what happened but you look like you need a moment for that yourself." She let out an anxious laugh at that and nodded again. Make that a week! "I do have one more question... Go on a date with me?" He sounded out of breath.

Avery's eyes locked onto his in surprise. It was so sincere and he looked solemn but his green eyes shined with such hope. How could she refuse him especially now that he saved her life?

"Sure." Her answer came out just as breathless.

"Great, now don't do that ever again. You really caught me off guard there."

"Yeah, that was definitely not planned." She brought a hand to her sweaty forehead and swiped at the hair stuck there. "And trust me, I avoid that every chance I get."

"Well, next time, you can just call and let me catch you when you feel like you're falling for me. I love saving a damsel in distress especially when she's assigned to fall into my arms."

"Shut up." He grinned before leaning down and pressing a kiss to the side of her head. Her eyes widened when he let her go and her cheeks burned with the oncoming blush. As he left, lingering just a bit when he unwrapped his remaining arm from her waist, she kept her head down trying to fight the smile playing at her lips. When he was further away, she turned slowly, her face feeling hot and smiling stupidly, big and wide and unabashed. But, when she looked up, Max was in front of her with a satisfied smirk. Very satisfied.

"Not a word." Her friend's evil merry laughter was the only thing she heard as she walked to the locker room to blush in peace.

A/N: Hey, I hope you guys enjoyed that; thanks for reading. Also, Happy Jameson Appreciation Day! I am so happy that we finally a canon date for my best boy’s birthday and that we get to celebrate him for it. For those of you who are interested in learning more about the bar skills that I mentioned in this fic, here are the sites I used:

https://wagymnastics.fandom.com/wiki/Uneven_Bars_Skills

https://www.synergygymnastics.co.uk/gymnastics-bar-moves/#google_vignette

[ashecampos]

Riding it out

Aj Campos x sick reader

Reader x Chantal (twins)

Warnings : migraines, nausea, anxiety, basic illness stuff, fluff, my terrible spelling

Summary : reader is sick and her girlfriend aj comes to comfort her, little does aj know reader hasn’t been looking after herself, even going as far as dragging herself into school.

—————

You hated being sick, the word hate would be a massive understatement for how much being sick made you feel. Your parents are out of town attending to the company they own. Leaving you and your twin sister Chantal to fend for yourself.

Another fit of coughs racks your body, your lungs burn with this being the fifth coughing fit already with it only being 8 am, you had another half an hour before school started and you where dreading it. Throwing on one of your girlfriends hoodies and a pair of grey sweatpants you cough again, grabbing some water and your sneakers. Before you knew it you were at school, slowly walking to your home room class.

—

I put my head down on the desk, praying no one notices how bad I’ve gotten in the past 24 hours, the last thing I need is to be sent home and miss out on work, or even worse track. The teacher starts taking the attendance and I notice there is a few people off, probably experiencing the same symptoms I have right now. I am startled out of my thoughts when my phone vibrates in my pocket, lifting my head up I grab the phone to see who was texting me, seeing it’s the group chat,, I ignore it, not ready to face my friends at this moment in time. I know exactly how they will all react once they see the state im in.

——

Fast and curious

(Thursday 8:50am)

*missed call from Stacey Clark*

Timotee🪽: girl why are you calling us right now, why aren’t you in school?

Dillpickle🥴: wait my wife is off today??

Staceye😇: YES im off because SOMEONE gave me the flu…any guesses @y/n/n ???

Dillpickle🥴: oh baby why didn’t you tell me, I’ll ditch and come over in an hour

Gabrii🌺: guys im in home room with y/n now, she doesn’t look too good, what do I do?

Paige🎨: wait why is she in if she’s ill? Also get well soon Stacey 💕

Talía(Chantal): shes ‘riding it out’ her words not mine

Ayjay (aj): wait y/N’s sick? Since when? And why is this the first im hearing of it?

Talía : shit, she told us to not tell you, sorry aj

——-

You are hit with a wave of nausea as you slowly bring your head up off of the desk to look at the teacher who is calling your name, you look over at him and you don’t hear any of the words coming out of his mouth. His normally angered face turns into a one of pity. He shrugs the question off and points to Gabi, signalling for what I assume is for her to take me out of the classroom for some air. Not even a second later a hand is on my lower back, guiding me to the door of the classroom. I look up to see Gabi on the phone to someone while we walk at an incredibly slow pace to a water fountain. She points to the floor and tells me to sit. I slide down the wall, my legs failing on me, making me fall faster. The loud ringing of the break bell hits my ears and the halls are flooded with students. The noise deathening. I close my eyes a little tighter and hold my hands over my ears before they are swiftly took away, I look at the culprit, it obviously being gabi but this time I look at her she has both of our bags in her arms as she holds out a hand for me to take. “Cmon ángel let’s go find ur girl” she says nodding her head towards the door. I take her hand and we start to walk towards our groups hangout spot on the field. I immediately look for AJ, seeing the girl in one of my hoodies and a pair of black jeans with her signature white converse. Her head shoots up as soon as the doors of the school shut behind me and Gabi. She gives me a look of sympathy as I walk to the group. Chantal is the first to greet me “hey sis, feeling any better?” She asks with a worried tone, I simply nod not to draw too much attention to myself “we got sent out of homeroom..so no she is not okay” Gabi says for me, making Aj give me a disapproving look. “Baby cmon im taking you home” the shorter girl says while taking my bag off of me, I groan while looking at her, tears forming in my eyes. “Just one more class and if I don’t feel any better we can go okay?” I plead hoping I’ll feel a little better in an hour or so. “No ángel, we are going now, our next class is gym and im not going to let you be sent to hospital because your too stubborn to admit your too sick” she scolds me, I look over at Gabi and Chantal as if they would help, they are trying to help but im being too stubborn to see they are only doing this in hopes that it’ll make me feel a little better. I hear the doors of the school open again and turn to see Dillon and Tim walking towards us. This is around the same time my body is graced with yet another coughing fit, followed by nausea. I run to the nearest trash can and throw up the contents of my stomach into the can. Someone is thankfully there and is already holding my hair back as I do this. A hand runs down my back, I look back and see a ‘told you so’ look from my girlfriend who now has her car keys in her hand. “dale vamos ángel” (‘let’s go angel’) a very concerned Dillon says as he brushes my hair out of my face while helping me stand up and get back to the group of my concerned friends.

Aj grabs my backpack off of the floor where Gabi placed it, then she walks over and grabs my hand, pulling me along with her to the carpark, the rest of the group saying their goodbyes to me in a mixture of “get well soon” and “we will come round later with soup” between the lot of them.

Once in her car Aj turns to me, giving me a stern look before holding out her hand “give me your vape” she states without a beat. I stare at her blankly before looking at my bag. She shrugs and reaches over, her hand swiftly disappearing into my hoodies pocket and pulling out my vape, she then waves it in front of my face “none of this while your sick” she mocks before putting the small pen into her own hoodie pocket.

We end up driving for around ten minutes before I realise we aren’t going in the direction of my house anymore “uh aj?” I say quietly,, voice breaking due to a lack of energy “don’t worry we are going to make a little pitstop then we are going home” she says with that goddam little smirk she always sports, her little dimples gracing her tanned face. We end up stopping at a gas station where she runs inside to pay the cashier for the gas but she ends up coming out with tons of snacks and a crate of Gatorade. I laugh a little as she dumps it all into my lap before she continues to drive back to my neighbourhood. Once at my house she helps me carry all the snacks into the house and getting us settled in my room. Once she has me in my bed and covered in a few blankets, she quickly runs around the room setting everything up, turning my LED lights on, closing my curtains and turning on my tv before jumping into the bed with me. I laugh at how much she knows about my room which in turn brings me to another coughing fit. She rubs my back and hands me a bottle of Gatorade she managed to open in the midst of my fit. I take it from her and take a few sips of the drink, i thank her which earns a shake of her head. “How about we watch a movie huh?”

[joanquill]

"Excuse you, but I'm sweeter than any chocolate in the world,"

Hello happy valentine!I want to request something about The number of the prompt : 8 Character name:Albert Relationship: x reader (romantic) What type:fluff You can add more details if you wish:I want the stories about fluff Albert x reader stories with he having fun teasing and being playful with reader but in the same time he is still in his character as canon

Albert James Moriarty

Tag/s: Established Relationship

"That should do it..." you muttered, putting your tray of chocolate in the ice box, satisfied with your work.

"Now, we wait..."

"Wait for what?"

"Gah!" you jumped and quickly turned around, swinging your arm as the person grabbed your wrist.

"Albert...!" you exasperated, seeing he was the culprit.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he smiled, not an ounce of guilt on his face.

You sighed as you dropped your arm, walking away from him.

"Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting?"

"I still have ten minutes," he answered, following you around the kitchen as you cleaned up your mess.

"What were you making?" he asked as he helped you put the ingredients back on the high shelves.

"It's a surprise,"

"Is it sweet?"

"Albert..."

"Is it chocolate?" he continued to ask, making you sigh.

You turned to him and gave him an unamused look, making him chuckle.

"What's wrong?" he leaned on the counter, poking your cheek, "Why are you so sour today? Especially after making me chocolate for Valentine's?" he teased, making you scoff and swat away his hand.

"Excuse you, but I'm sweeter than any chocolate in the world," you joked, walking off to the sink and washing your hands.

"And you don't know if that chocolate is for you," you huffed, your cheeks flaring up.

"Hmm?" he mused as he walked up behind you, hugging your waist.

"Then who's it for?" he asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes when you looked up at him.

You paused at the look, flashes of your life appearing in your mind.

"...You..." you sighed in defeat as you hung your head low, concluding your life is more important than being right.

"Good," Albert smiled in victory as he kissed your head, "I would have stolen the chocolate anyway if you gave it to someone else," he added, snuggling in your hair as you finished washing your hands.

"Even if I gave some to your brothers?"

"That's fine,"

"Fred?"

"He's fine also,"

"What about Master Jack?"

"He's okay,"

"What about Sebastian?"

"Absolutely not,"

You busted into laughter at the seriousness of his tone, making him smile.

"It's just chocolate, though," you giggled as he kissed your head.

"Then buy him some," he reasoned, making you chuckle.

"Isn't your ten minutes up?" you reminded, prying open his arms.

"Why? Sick of me already?" he teased, hugging you again as you walked.

"No, I'm just giving some chocolate to Sebastian," you joked, making him stop you.

"Hey," he warned, glaring at you playfully as you laughed.

"I'm giving one to everyone..." you explained, trying to remove his arms again.

"Albert-nii-san," Louis called out from upstairs, catching Albert's attention as you got out of his grip.

"Yes, Louis?"

"Your carriage is here," he reminded, making Albert hum in disappointment.

"Come on," you held his arm, leading him to the entrance.

"So, you really are driving me away..." he muttered in a fake sad tone, making you roll your eyes.

"Take care," you smiled, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"I'll give you your chocolate when you get home," you reassured, making him smile.

"I'm looking forward to it,"

[review-anon]

You did the investigation? Thoughts and theories?

//As always my theories are below the cut.

//Another cutaway because Tumblr doesn’t like and spoilers ahead so READ ON IN PERIL.

//Wolfgang was 100% attacked with the rolling pin and then he was injected with some kind of drug to his neck. The prick on his neck looks a lot like where a needle would go. It would be easy to get the drop on him as Wolfgang trusted almost everyone so he didn’t really have a guard.

//Having said there, Wolfgang was certainly up to something because he outright lied to Grace about being sick. Especially as Toshiko caught him leaving his room and with Ingrid being her roommate she can back her up. Most likely he was going to the boiler room.

//Ingrid’s headache I think is important because it depends what Wolfgang was drugged with, recall that Jean smelled something in the boiler room, what if that messed with Ingrid’s head and made her have a headache.

//We also know the Not-Melee tournament and it’s blackout means the generator in the boiler room got busted. It’s not linked to the other areas since those in them areas didn’t report blackouts so it’s only the main building who’s power went out.

//I think the shrapnel has something with how the generator blew up and looking at the remains it looks to be a fire extinguisher which means Fire Extinguisher-Kun betrayed us and was used in a murder.

//Now the movements make it seem like the culprit but I don’t think so…I think someone else was locked into the boiler room with Wolfgang, since the door panel was changed, and well…if Wolfgang was injected with something…it depends what it was.

//It could be a sedative but normally people put them in the arms not the neck, but there were various chemicals, what if a hallucinogenic drug was used? Depending when Wolfgang was administered it, explains some of his strange behaviour since you aren’t gonna behave well if you are tripping balls.

//We also see a knife and yet it wasn’t used on Wolfgang, which makes me think he was the only who grabbed the knife and used it to attack someone. He either was as nasty as I thought he was, or he was tripping out and so wasn’t thinking rationally at all.

//So who did Wolfgang attack? Diana is my best bet as it can’t be someone from the Not-Melee Tournament and the only people in the building at the time were Diana, Ingrid and Toshiko. The last two were together the whole time so they can vouch for each other but Diana was not. Furthermore she seemed very flustered and panicked for some reason, even going as far as to try and get the culprit to confess before the trial. Of course she would be horrified if Wolfgang called her somewhere and attacked her out of nowhere.

//So Diana is the one who got attacked and bled and ran away, she was the footsteps the Tourney people heard, but does that make her the culprit? Not really as it wouldn’t explain the blackout and some other stuff, meaning she was more likely framed for the whole thing.

//So who’s my culprit pick? Well remember when I said I was sus of Eva? Yeah the investigation has strengthened my resolve since she was our investigation partner the whole time, which means she had every right to discredit and misdirect us. Plus she was the first person Damion met and since he rolled a Nat 1 in Persuasion in the Prologue and Wolfgang got everyone in the group to turn against him and Eva, the only person he bonded with. You could argue he and Kai are starting to get on but let’s be real, Kai didn’t enjoy being with us, and it was the fear of being killed in his sleep that made him keep us around. // “But Eva cannot be the culprit as she was at the game tourney” she was for most of it but I think she came there to give herself an alibi, as she never signed up for it which was sus, and when Damion and Kai were having their match a certain Mathetic wasn’t present in the CG at all, so I think while everyone was glued to the game, Eva snuck away to commit her murder and came back as soon as the blackout occurred. It was well…dark after all so she could easily do this, to give the illusion of her being with the tourney group all the time.

//And plus she was very insistent the rolling pin has nothing to do with the murder, and said there was no way for the culprit to bring it back but who investigated the storage closet the pin was found in to find the backup generator? Eva and Grace, so she could easily place that back.

//The final nail in the coffin is Wolfgang was probably lured out by a note saying the culprit has his blackmail, especially as Wolfgang did a David and said everyone should talk privately about their blackmail, and we know how well THAT goes. We know Damion has it but guess what? He told Eva it as well, so she could trick Wolfgang into think she has his blackmail.

//Now obviously the big question is motive. It could be Eva is pissed that Wolfgang ostracised her but I think it’s because she believes Wolfgang is not what he seems. Sure he acts affable and friendly to others but remember he’s the Ultimate Lawyer, and one with a very Ace Attorney like upbringing where he was a prodigy. Plus his blackmail featured his parents and the hint was that Wolfgang takes a lot after his father. We also know during the Mock Trial Wolfgang got very intense during it. But there’s another motive. The PIN lock which requires a 4 digit code. The others tried to solve it but failed, but guess what? Eva is the Ultimate Mathetic which means if anyone can solve the PIN code, it’s her. Maybe the plushie cost was the PIN code and going inside she discovered something that made her want to commit murder.

//Either way, this is gonna be a very intense Class Trial, as Damion is gonna be in the hard position to condemn someone who stood up for him but hey that’s Danganronpa for you.

[voiidegg]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR AA: DUAL DESTINIES UNDER THE CUT :D

i finished the game this morning, i’m on 5 hours of sleep, i stayed up all night playing it because i got way too invested.

NOT ONCE. NOT ONCE DID I SUSPECT THAT IDIOT OF A DETECTIVE. IT WAS ONLY UNTIL THE VERY LAST MINUTE THAT I REALISED. i felt absolutely sick to my stomach when i realised. i don’t even know why i trusted him so much, i literally thought he was just irrelevant to everything. there were NO HINTS. my brain absolutely HURT

hell, even I HAD DOUBTS about athena. i thought perhaps the murder was just a huge mistake. i figured out that athena must have been the one to put her mothers body on the operating table because she would think it could fix her, but i was in the dark about everything else. the MINUTE athena talked about blood getting on the handle, i knew it couldn’t have been her, i was so relieved.

i cannot begin to tell you the absolute CHILLS i got when miles revealed that the real bobby fulbright is DEAD. and had been for a year. that was the most chilling thing i’ve heard in this franchise so far and i don’t even know why it got to me so much. i think it was the thought of how the real fulbright had family, and nobody confirmed his death for a whole year, so that family was wondering where he had gone. it hit me right in the feels cuz personal experience :,) i don’t even know if that fact is true, it’s just something i thought of.

this case was absolutely amazing. usually i (and i’m sure many others) can figure out the culprit just before the final trial, but i was left in the dark for so long. even when that cctv image of the phantom showed up, i knew it had to be somebody we already knew, because why would they introduce a new person so late into a case? so i looked at every profile hard, AND WHEN I GOT TO FULBRIGHT’S, I RULED HIM OUT, SIMPLY BECAUSE I COULDNT LINK HIM TO THE MURDER 7 YEARS AGO. i was at such a loss on who it could have been.

and then, the one statement aura had after establishing the escape route. and i froze. this is by far the best case in the franchise, i couldnt stop playing even if i wanted to. there were so many bone chilling moments, like the emotions overload from blackquill, the NO emotions from the phantom, the messing around with emotions from him, finding out who he was posing as, him getting straight up sniped in the courtroom, apollo questioning athena.

and GOD SPEAKING OF APOLLO the way he just suffered alone i cAANTT ugghh. and poor athena… she was just a kid T^T

also i revoke my previous statement about blackquill. he’s a good guy. can be annoying, but he’s good at heart. i enjoyed his character in the end. i can’t imagine how furious he must have been when his phantom of 7 years was right under his nose the entire time. blackquill did everything to protect athena and i found it so endearing, i love what they have, it’s so sweet. i think i just need to learn to give prosecutors a chance, because i always dislike them until the finale, then when their motives are revealed, i see sense and i like them.

i was so angry i didn’t get to see the phantom’s face, but after sleeping on it i’ve realised that’s actually better than seeing his face. i dunno it just feels more right for his true face to mean nothing.

so, to conclude my ramble, what a game. so worth me staying up all night til 10am for :] i don’t think anything can top that, but i’ll be pleasantly surprised if it happens

i may follow up this post with some video reactions i clipped, we’ll see :D