#And if it's terrible then I will just never do it again

[iholdwhatican]

reunions

pairing: art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig

length: 3.8k

tags: y/n is art donaldson's wife ; birthday party ; surprise visit from patrick ; art is down bad ; patrick wants y/n ; possessive!art ; the boys are fighting ; no use of y/n ; pining ; sexual tension

summary: you want to make your husband's birthday special, so you invite his attractive, charming, estranged childhood best friend in the hopes that they'll make amends. surely nothing will go wrong, right?

author's note: i can't stop thinking about them i am so ill. this is the first of presumably many challengers works. and yes i did make a new blog just for this, don't judge me. this is a drabble that was stuck in my head but I do have more for it should it be wanted! preferably something that leaves you sandwiched in between them :3

originally posted by iholdwhatican

You told yourself this whole thing happened out of the goodness of your heart. You’d just wanted to be a good wife and make your husband’s birthday the best it could possibly be. Because Art Donaldson was the most amazing person you’d ever known, and he loved you, and he deserved the world. There was nothing off limits when it came to him, no line you wouldn’t cross. 

You knew how much Patrick had meant to him, how much he missed his best friend. Your cheeks hurt from how wide the stories made you smile, how happy he sounded when he recounted the things he’d gotten into with the eccentric tennis player. And you knew how sad Art was that they didn’t talk anymore. 

So what better time to remedy that than for his birthday? That was a wonderful surprise, right? Right?

Upon meeting Patrick Zweig, your first thought was how the hell this man got along so well with your Art. Not to say he was a bad person, but he was just so… much. He was cocky, indomitable, the kind of person that knew what he wanted and what he was worth and wouldn’t settle for anything less. He was a force not to be reckoned with, no matter what. He was also unbelievably charming (and not bad on the eyes, which you would never admit), and you hated the way his sweet-talking got under your skin. 

He asked you how Art was. You told him he was fine. Retired, now. Making the most of a quiet life. You’d just celebrated 3 years of married life. He asked to see wedding photos and you didn’t miss the sadness in his eyes at missing the event. You happily obliged. It was the most romantic day of your life, after all. 

And you couldn’t help but internally pat yourself on the back. Patrick missed him too. You could mend the broken bridge between them, and your husband would be thrilled. He’d reward you for your good work. 

You asked Patrick to come to Art’s party. To make contact again. To come back into his world. He only hesitated for a moment, asked if Art knew and was okay with it. 

The lie slipped off your tongue easily. Of course, he’s wanted this for a long time. It’s a surprise, but a most welcome one. You didn’t have details on what happened between them- only knew of a falling out while Art was in college- but it couldn’t be that bad. Anything could be overcome, right? 

Patrick accepted and you hoped the lump in your throat was from excitement and not dread. You thanked him for meeting you, told him you’d forward him the details, and went back to your husband. 

The day of the party came, and you were so nervous you could hardly take it. You’d spent the last couple of days working yourself into a frenzy, convinced that this reunion was a terrible idea and your husband would hate you. You had no right to bring an estranged friend back into his life, on his birthday no less. And without saying a word to him. 

God, what the hell was wrong with you? 

You gripped the edge of the kitchen counter and downed your third glass of water. It did nothing to soothe the dryness in your throat. Or the pounding of your heart. You wondered how fucked you’d be at the party if you took a Xanax right now. Or five. 

Just then, Art peeked his head into the kitchen, donning a sweet smile when he spotted you. He looked as handsome as ever, sporting a well-fitting polo shirt and khakis. His hair was growing out again, starting to show those boyish curls you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. He made his way over to you, wedding band sparkling on his finger, and your heart melted. 

You loved him so much. Had you ruined his birthday with your stupid meddling? Maybe even ruined your marriage? 

“Hey, beautiful.” He greeted, sliding a hand around your waist and kissing your head. It was a familiar gesture, a normal one. He loved touching you, keeping you close. You loved it just as much, “The cake was just delivered. You went way overboard, as usual.” 

You pretended you weren’t overcome with dread and cupped his cheek, “Shut up. There’s no such thing as overboard. You deserve this, okay? You deserve to be celebrated.” 

Please, please don’t be mad at me for inviting him. For bringing him into our world. Please still love me. I did it for you. I’d do anything for you.

His eyes crinkled as he smiled- in that perfect way you adored so much. He leaned down to kiss you again, this time on your lips. It was gentle and caring and everything you were to each other. It made you want to cry. Art was everything. All you wanted was to give him the same. 

The doorbell rang, breaking you two out of the moment, and your husband pulled away. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Well,” He spoke, looking at you like there was nothing else in the world, “That must be our first guest.” 

You hummed happily, “Guess it’s time to celebrate you, Birthday Boy. Shall we?” 

“We shall.” He teased, doing a mock bow as he offered you his hand. You took it, laughing, and the two of you made your way to the front door. 

You took a deep breath and tried not to focus on the unhappy way your stomach was churning. 

The first hour of the party went by with a pleasant lack of reunions-turned-altercations. Patrick had yet to show his face, and you wondered if he might not come at all. Part of you was relieved at the idea, while the other couldn’t help but be frustrated. 

He said he would come. What if the surprise didn’t end up being a bad thing? How would you know if he never showed? 

God, you needed a cigarette. 

You’d spent the entirety of the party so far glued to Art’s side, being his doting wife as you made conversation with everyone. Your eyes continued to stray to the door, looking for a certain dark-haired man. Every single time, you were disappointed. Disappointed, yes, but not surprised. From what you’d heard, Patrick wasn’t really someone who could be counted on a lot. 

Maybe this whole thing was just a big mistake. And maybe the part of you that truly felt let down at not getting to see him again was something you should never, never look into. 

You patted Art’s chest and stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “I’m gonna check on the food. I’ll be back.” 

He nodded, smiled, and pressed a kiss to your temple. His arm released its grip on you and he continued his conversation with an old Stanford buddy without missing a beat. He was fucking incredible. At everything. You were crazy about him. 

The food didn’t actually need to be checked on. The caterer was high-quality, and they knew better than to fuck up one of your events for your husband. You had full trust in them- you honestly just needed a breather. This whole night had felt like a cold fist clenched around your heart. 

Instead, you grabbed yourself a large glass of wine and made your way to the patio to enjoy some cool night air. 

The area was blessedly empty, allowing you to slip out of the hostess facade. You were more than happy to do it, especially when celebrating Art, but the circumstances tonight were making it much harder than usual. Which was, of course, entirely your own fault. Way to go, you! Knocked it out of the park tonight, didn’t you? 

You sighed, leaned against the railing, and took a long gulp of your drink. The weather was slightly chilly, and it felt amazing against your heated skin. Already, you were finding it easier to breathe. And think, for that matter. 

“Shouldn’t you be at the party, Mrs. Donaldson?” A familiar, spine-tingling voice spoke, breaking you out of your peaceful moment. 

You whirled around, eyes landing on Patrick fucking Zweig leaning against the wall of your house. A lit cigarette hung from his lips, his hands nonchalantly tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans. They went well with the button-up shirt he wore, a stark contrast from the shorts and hoodie he’d had on when you first met. He looked good- really good. Enough to make a pit grow in your stomach. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You blurted out, thankful that the darkness was shrouding your red face. His face was just barely illuminated by the orange glow of the cigarette, and you watched as he looked you up and down, “Also, how’d you get back here? I didn’t see you walk into the house.” 

Patrick kicked off the wall and walked over to you, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth. His curls fell over his forehead, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush them out of the way- the same way you always did to Art. You swallowed deeply. What the hell was wrong with you? 

“I told you I’d come, didn’t I?” He responded matter-of-factly, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. The smell made you nostalgic. You and Art had made a pact years ago to quit together, but God did you miss it sometimes. You licked your lips and tried (and failed) not to stare, “I snuck in through the back. Thought it’d be less messy that way.” 

You had no idea how he’d been able to get back here, but you decided you weren’t gonna ask. It didn’t matter in the long run, anyway. Besides, he was probably right. You had no idea how Art was gonna react, and it was smart to have it happen in an isolated area. 

“Probably smart.” You muttered, taking another swig of the wine. The feeling of his eyes stayed on you, burning into your skin, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You didn’t want to think too hard on why. 

“He doesn’t know you reached out to me.” It wasn’t a question, but you responded to Patrick’s words regardless. He’d find out eventually. 

“No.” The admittance came out with a heavy breath, like you were releasing the weight that had been on you all night. In a way, you were. You ran a hand over your forehead, “I don’t know what happened between you two, he doesn’t talk about it. But I just- I’m terrified he’ll hate me for bringing you.” 

Why the hell were you pouring your heart out to this stranger? What was it about him that drew you in so much and made you want to bring down your walls? How was this charming man already under your skin from one damn meeting? And how the fuck were you supposed to explain any of this to your husband, his estranged best friend? 

You needed another drink. Or ten. 

“You really love him.” Again, not a question. But you answered. You had to. 

“More than anything else in this world.” 

Patrick offered you his half-smoked cigarette and you took it without thinking. The sting of the smoke in your lungs was like coming home. It was so good it almost made you cry. But lots of things made you want to cry right now. You could taste mint on the cigarette, like he’d been chewing gum before lighting up. The same kind Art always chewed. 

It made something flip in your stomach. 

“Well, from what I can tell, you’re pretty great. Super caring, based on how far you went in an attempt to make him happy. Shit, you tracked me down, which is a feat in itself. And you’re gorgeous, obviously. I’m surmising that you’re basically the whole package.” He spoke calmly, as if every one of those words didn’t make your heart jump into your throat. You chugged your drink to use it as an excuse for your rosy cheeks, “So I don’t think there’s any way he could hate you. Even for inviting me here.” 

You were speechless for five long seconds as he took the cigarette back and inhaled. Then you finally got your brain to stop lagging, “You don’t even know me.” 

“I know enough.” He countered, continuing the pass back and forth of the cigarette, “And I know Art. He wouldn’t marry someone beneath him. The fucker somehow always gets the ones way out of his league.” 

You didn’t comment, but you knew what Patrick was referring to. Tashi Duncan. The now pro-tennis player that he’d had a thing with back in the day. You didn’t know the details, but you knew she was a point of contention between the two men. 

Honestly, you tried not to think about Tashi. She was gorgeous, super talented, and an overall seemingly great person. Art had passed up on that for you, and it got to your head a lot. You wondered if he regretted it. Or at least wondered what his life could’ve been like. 

You didn’t think you were out of his league. In fact, you thought the opposite. Not that you needed to tell Patrick that. Your insecurity and jealousy issues could stay yours alone. 

“Well, I don’t know about that.” You murmured.

The cigarette began to dim as you took the last drag, flicking it off the balcony and down into the grass below. With both the alcohol and nicotine gone, you started to think you probably needed to get back to the party. Your husband would be looking for you, and you didn’t want to keep him waiting. You just had to figure out how Patrick would fit into the equation. 

“If you weren’t taken, I’d be trying to charm the fuck out of you right now.” 

The statement caught you completely off guard. You looked over at him, eyes wide, and tried to keep your cool at the sexy smirk on his face. God, he was so fucking attractive. 

You blinked once, twice, a third time, “What?” 

His smile grew at your flustered state, “I have great taste in women, and I’d flirt with you if I could. So I’m saying you’re definitely a catch. And totally out of Art’s league.” 

You licked your lips. Subconsciously, “I’m pretty sure that was flirting.” 

“Was it?” He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, “Oops.” 

You ran your finger over the rim of your wine glass, trying to think of something to say. You came up empty. You were married- to this man’s childhood best friend. To the love of your life. He shouldn’t be flirting with you. And you definitely shouldn’t be enjoying it. 

“There you are! I was starting to worry.” Art’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned around to watch him making his way to you with a smile. Then he spotted Patrick and his smile dropped as his face filled with recognition, “You- what the hell are you doing here?” 

You opened your mouth to speak, to explain and mediate the situation, but the dark-haired man beat you to it. 

“Your pretty little wife invited me.” He said, which was probably the worst thing he probably could’ve chosen. You internally buried your face in your hands. 

Art’s jaw clenched and his eyes lit up. It took you a moment to realize that the expression was anger. Honestly, it took you by surprise. It was extremely rare to see him angry, and never was it directed at you. And though he was looking at Patrick, you were terrified that in this instance it was. 

“Let me explain.” You immediately choked out, clutching your empty wine glass like a lifeline, “I really just thought that-” 

“She thought you missed me and wanted us to reconnect. As a birthday surprise. Isn’t that sweet?” Patrick butted in, throwing an arm over your shoulders. Art looked ready to murder someone (probably the tennis player holding you), “I doubt it was easy contacting me, but she managed. All for you.” 

You laughed nervously, ducking your head, “Well, that’s not-” 

“Let go of her.” Art demanded. His voice was cold and dangerous. Possessive. It made something twitch in your core. Oh, you liked that. 

The brunette didn’t hesitate to do as he was told, holding his hands up in surrender, “My bad, man. I just feel like we’re already such close friends from hanging out together. Don’t you think so?” 

The last part was directed at you, and Patrick nudged you. You gave him an incredulous look. 

The charming, sweet man you’d just been talking to was gone. He was replaced by a cocky, near-disrespectful antagonist who was trying to egg your husband into some kind of altercation. And he was using you as the bait. 

You couldn’t lie that you were frustrated, but it did feel a bit nice to be in an almost tug-of-war between the two men. You liked being an object of affection or desire. 

“You should head inside, baby.” Art spoke to you, though his furious gaze never left Patrick, “Our guests will wonder where the hosts went. I’m gonna talk to Patrick for a minute.” 

You’d be damned if you told him no. Even though this situation felt like a mess that was definitely all your fault. Damn you for inviting Patrick. Damn him for being so captivating. And damn Art for loving you so much that the sight of another man touching you made him see red. This entire thing was like a whirlwind. 

“Okay…” You whispered, moving towards your husband and the house. You gave Patrick a small smile, hoping to convey your thoughts to him. Please don’t hurt him- he’s my world. Then you stopped at Art’s side and placed a hand on his bicep, “I’m sorry if this was a bad idea. I just wanted to make your birthday special, is all. I didn’t mean to fuck it up.” 

He finally looked at you, just long enough to give you a loving smile and a shake of his head, “You didn’t ruin anything. I’m so proud of you for doing all this for me. Don’t worry.” 

Then he kissed you, only to stop and pull away, “Is that- were you smoking with Patrick?” 

You sucked on your teeth and nodded, “Yes, a little. I’m sorry. I just-” 

But then he was kissing you again, hard and needy. Like he wanted to fuck you right then and there. Your face burned bright red, and you could feel Patrick’s eyes on the two of you. Art had never acted like this in all the time you knew him. But right now, within thirty seconds of being around his old friend, he was putting on a show to prove that you were his. 

You belonged to him. And he wanted Patrick to know it. 

You really, really fucking liked this. 

When he pulled away, you felt dizzy. From both the kiss and the wine you’d downed. You barely had time to take a breath before he was lightly patting your cheek and sending you inside. You managed to take a look at the two men before rejoining the party. They just stared at each other, like they were in a standoff. 

It was unbelievably hot. 

As you went back to your guests, lips still tingling, only one thought was coming to you. 

You wondered how long you could keep Patrick around, just to see what it would do to your precious husband. 

#challengers #challengers movie #challengers 2024 #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #challengers fic #challengers fanfic #art donaldson x patrick zweig #challengers x reader #challengers x you #art donaldson x reader x patrick zweig #tashi duncan #charly writes!!

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— found family | inner demons prologue

pairings: leah williamson x teen reader

summary: reader discovers that family isn't always blood

This is a sort of prologue to inner demons, some background of readers' life in the early years when she transferred to the club.

Also, this is rewrite as I wasn't happy with the original that I posted.

There's always been tell-tail signs that you should've recognised, all throughout the past several years and yet you will still so obviously blind to it all.

It wasn't easy to come to terms with things, but the realisation of it all didn't sit right at all, and in turn you weren't exactly sure how to cope with it all.

It was clear as day for everyone else around to see, your mother was a complete narcissist, she was manipulative and gaslighting. It was something that she had been doing your whole entire life, always making you out to be the bad day in every situation and acting like she was the victim.

How were you so obliviously blind to see that?

You guess your niave self choice to always refuse to believe it, it was the easiest option to just do that.

Looking back to the last several years, your childhood was full of moments like it, but of course you had always thought that your upbringing was completely terrible, it could have been a worse situation.

Growing up, it was only ever the 2 of you, you and your mum. Your parents split up when you were little, the seperation was messy and ever since that day, you'd always been to blame for the reason that it never worked out.

You had always wondered how exactly could it be your fault? You were 3 years old when your dad walked out, so how could it be like that?

"You were always to much to handle, Y/N. He couldn't cope," Your mum would make the excuse, all of them long nights when you would have your tiny arms wrapped around her and sob your little heart out when you asked where he was.

"I'm here, you've got me. You've only ever got me," Her words were imbeded in your head from the day that you'd decided to try and have an open conversation about the possibility of finding your dad, "Why go and find him? Haven't I been good enough. I'm the one that's looked after you for all of these years, and yet this is the thanks that I get in return!?"

It was always something like that, a way to guilt trip you and you always ended up feeling for it.

Her manipulation was completely toxic, of course you didn't realise it until later on in life.

Eventually, you just choice to accept that for the reason that you had such an estranged relationship with your dad.

"Aren't you happy for me? I made it, mum!" You exclaim, you were so happy enough to share the news with her, but you were left so dumbfounded by her response which left you feeling shame and judgement for even wanting to tell her.

The harsh statement of this current conversation with the older women is leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and make you question every single thing in life.

"Yes, you have made it Y/N, but you know, you only have me to thank for that now, don't you?" Your mum once again found a wa to make it about herself, regardless of the situation.

It was always and only ever about herself, no matter what type of news you wanted to share with her. Why was so selfish to not care about you?

"I'm sure that you can find some way to thank me though," You listen to your mum continue to talk and you resist the urge to scoff, "After all of these years and the amount of money I have spent on football boots for you, you'd be nowhere if it wasn't for me and I think you owe me now, don't you?"

Her words stun you and there's a lot of emotions that are building up inside of you. Ultimately you feel confused, how can she manage to twist this to make it all about herself, but of course shes' quick enough to make an excuse to end the call when she grows bored of talking to you.

You should know better, every single phone call has the same pattern to end the same way and you always leave with a pang of guilt for making a life for yourself.

It turns out that this phone call was no different either.

You are so excited to spill the news of making it into the senior squad of the national team, however the excitement soon fades and now you're replaced by mixed feelings of confusion, anger and upset instead. You fight to hold back the tears during the initial phone call but now its' over, you feel on the verge of a breakdown.

You feel like your news is a big deal, you've only been a part of the arsenal women's first team for shy of a year but it feels like such a massive achievement to be selected to represent your country and straightaway, the first person you thought-- you wanted to call was your mum. You thought she was going to be so pleased for you, so excited about it but you can't be further away from the truth.

The conversation happened a week ago, yet you still couldn't let it escape your mind.

Ever since the phone call, you had tried to distance yourself from her but even that hurt to do. The women was the only blood related family member that you had, it had only ever been the two of you, sticking together through thick and thin.

"You seem quiet tonight," Your guardian and fellow team member, Leah, perches on the arm of the sofa as she looks at you in concern, "I'm about to start cookin' tea soon. How do you feel about chicken nuggets and smiley faces?" She wonders.

"That sounds good to me," You shrug your shoulders and glumly stare staight ahead at the wall in front of you, the TV is playing but you barely even pay attention to whatever it is that's playing.

Its' been a long day with training ahead of a crucial game in the season, but all you can think about right now is the conversation you had with your mum a week ago previously on a constant loop in your head.

You still can't help but think about the conversation; The bitterness, the manipulation, every single time you thought about it, it made you think of every single time that something else happened like this throughout the years.

Maybe your childhood wasn't as great as you really thought it was?

"Okay," Leah nods and smiles in agreement but she doesn't move away just yet, "Is there anything that you want to talk about at all, bubs?" You know she's only asking for a bit more insight on your current mood, after returning from her own rehab session to find you shut away in your bedroom, the entire shift in mood was concerning to her.

The usual car rides over the past week had been quiet instead of the raised music level and sarcastic comments that the blonde was used to, replaced instead by the quiet, dull mood with you slumped against the car door and staring out of the window.

Leah definitely knew there was something wrong with you.

"Nope, I'm fine," You stand firm on your reply, shaking your head and keeping your eyes glued on the TV screen, choosing to look anywhere other than at the blonde, who would be able to see right through you in seconds.

"Are you sure?" Leah questions, furrowing her eyebrows in concern as she could see the tears welling up in your eyes, "Bubs, what's the matter? You look like you're gonna cry," She notes, worriedly.

"I... I'm fine," You mumble, fighting to keep the tears at bay until you can escape to your bedroom and allow yourself to be vulnerable when you're alone.

You always feel complete shame to show any sort of vulnerability in front of anyone, let alone the blonde defender who has taken you under her wing ever since you joined during the transfer window of 2022.

Crying only shows signs of weakness, you refuse to be seen as weak.

"Okay," Leah exhales a sigh and taps your knee gently, deciding to drop the subject when she realises you aren't be open and talk about things, "Its' okay if you don't want to talk about it, but just remember that I'm always here to listen, alright? Anytime that you want to talk, I'm here,"

Unforuntately, you are too stubborn to not give in and blurt everything out there and then to her. You feel like you still need time to wrap your head around the idea and see things for how they really are now.

"Uh huh. Thanks," You murmer in repsonse, getting up from the sofa and shuffling away to the confined space where you can be alone.

Leah exhales another sigh and shakes her head, heading into the kitchen to make a head start on dinner but she can't help but still be worried about you. Of course the women knew better than to try and get you to talk if you didn't want to though.

The blonde has always been around to witness moments like this and the backlash of it, you hadn't told her outright what was going on but she already had an idea what it was about.

All of your upset stems down to the one person causing you to be like this and she hated it every time you were left upset when you spoke to her.

Every single time you and your mum spoke, you would always become quiet and be in a general bad mood, often resulting in lashing out at people around you as a coping mechanism.

You know that all the arsenal girls have their own opinions on your mother, but they would never voice them out loud to you, because you wouldn't agree with it, but you knew it. They know it wouldn't be fair on you as the youngest member in the squad, even after the countless times they had seen the girl upset by her own mums actions.

You were so grateful for every single of the girls on the team, Leah especially, she'd always been there for you since day one.

Ever since you moved in with Leah, there's been several nights where she would be the one to comfort you and pick up the pieces, waking up in the middle of the night to hear your heartbroken sobs and feel her own heart shatter every single time, wanting nothing more than to take away any sort of pain that you were experiencing.

It was heartbreaking for all of the team to witness and always sought out to comfort you, they knew no matter what they said, it still wouldn't stop you contacting our mum.

Ultimately, it was your own decision to make soon enough when you turn 18 and until then they would be there to pick up the broken pieces when your mum let you down.

It happened time and time again, unfortunately.

You have lashed out way too many times as a result of that.

None of the girls ever took it to heart of course, they were old and wise enough to realise that none of your anger was directly aimed towards them and there was much bigger issues to be dealt with.

They have always vowed to support you, regardless of what happens in the long-run.

"I... I should've realised sooner," You think to yourself as you lay crumpled up in your bed that following night, its' almost 4 am in the morning, but you were still wide awake with your thoughts spiraling.

You can't help but think about things, replaying every single conversation with your mum that you have had, the numerous times that you've started to talk to her and she's cut you off with her own problems.

Why was it always like this? It wasn't fair.

The first mistake was ignoring her gaslighting this whole time.

The second being that you believed her manipulation for years, always twisting things to make it seem like she was the victim in the different situations - first when you were a child and even now as your nearly an adult.

Why had it taken you so long to finally realise it after all of these years? Why couldn't you have just realised it sooner?

Without much realisation to the current moment, your sobbing aloud with a tight clutch of your pillow. The pent up anger is replaced by sadness and loss, your grieving the loss of a women who you have always seeked the approval off and now you realise you can never have it.

The phone call was the last chance, the reality of it all coming to light.

Every time you have now learned to understand that youwhen speak to her, it's nothing but a vicious cycle of emotional abuse, something you were so oblivious to believe.

As much as you didn't want to believe it, it's true. Its' clear as day of what it is but yet, you still find it hard to believe it.

It's your mum, your flesh and blood, so could she be like that?

The sound of your sobs were what woke Leah up, she's quick to pad out of her bedroom and push open your bedroom door to find you crumpled up in your bed, "Bubs?" The women stands in the doorway of your bedroom, her heart cracks to see you looking so distraught and vulnerable.

Without any hesistance, the blonde is quick move to be beside you on your bed and envelope you in a warm hug, "Its' okay, its' okay. I'm here now," She's quick to comfort you, she wouldn't ever stop doing that as long as you need her, "Let it all out, I'm right here," She adds.

Leah keeps you in her arms, gently rocking you as she runs her slender fingers through your messy bedhead, "Just let it all out, alright? I'm here, I'm not going anywhere," She reassures you.

As always, she's patient enough to wait for you to calm down before she gives you chance to speak, she won't ever push you to talk if you don't want too.

"L... Le," You cry aloud, clutching onto her tightly. Your breath becomes more shaky as sobs wrack your body, trying to find the words but nothing wants to come out of your mouth right now.

"I'm here, it's okay," Leah repeats in a calming voice, continuing to try and comfort you in the best way that she knows, but she already knows it's going to be a long night ahead of them, or day rather.

An emotional night that will leave you drained tomorrow for sure.

A vicious cycle on a loop, once more.

"Ready to tell me what's going on inside that head of yours now, hm?" The blonde quietly asks with caution, already having a feeling that she knows the answer to that question.

There's a brief pause of silence in the room and the blonde thinks that you wouldn't talk, but regardless of that, she still continues to comfort you and reassure you that she's here and not leaving at all.

To Leahs' surprise though, you do start open up this time though and the words spill out of your mouth without you even thinking about it.

"I... It's my mum," You mumble quietly, making the mistake to speak aloud than think it like you thought you have done, "I... I should've realised. I should have done,"

Leah furrows her eyebrows on confusion, "What should you have realised, bubs?" she questions about what you mean.

Snapping your head in the blondes' direction, you bite your bottom lip and debate whether to be open with your thoughts that you have been trying to buried.

"I should have realised about my mum, she's so... she's so toxic," You admit as you try to fight more tears from spilling, "Why does everything I tell her-- Why does it always get turned back around so its' about her?"

There it is. You've blurted it all out in the open, your feelings were laid out now and there's no more hiding how you feel.

Leah smiles sadly and continues to hold you in her arms, "I... I'm sorry bubs," she speaks honestly.

"So many people, so many people have told me-- They've warned me, you've warned me about her, but I... I never wanted to listen, did I?" You confess, the tears spilling again and you don't care a less if you look like a blubbering mess right now, but you still can't stop the emotions pouring out right now, "And now... now I finally realise how its' always been. Why is she like this, Le?" You question.

"I can't say I know the answer to that one, bubs. I wish I knew," Leah replies, exhaling a sigh as she can't fathem herself how your mother can be like to her you, her own child.

The blonde feels so much for you, your still so young and she always wished that she can make the situation better for you.

"Listen, I know its' hard but you've got us. All of us girls here at arsenal, we're all here for you and you're so loved by all of us," Leah continues to tell you gently, running her slending fingers through your hair.

"I... I just want her to love me, and she just... she doesn't even care about my feelings!" You state, roughly trying to wipe at your tear stained cheeks to the point where you made them red and angry, "Why does she always throw everything back in my face? Everything that I have ever done, she makes it about herself. Always!" You cry.

"I know, I know it hurts... I know that it does," You keep your head buried in the blondes' chest as you hiccup from the sudden breakdown in the middle of the night, "And I'm sorry that you have to go through this. I'm so sorry, because it's not fair on you, bubs," She adds, trying to comfort you in the best way that she can for you.

The whole wave of emotions leave you feeling entirely exhausted in the end, you are trying to fight to keep your eyes open as you lie slumped up against the blonde.

"Come on you, lets' get you back into bed, yeah? I mean you're almost falling asleep on me here, bubs," Leah notes your exhaustion and is concerned for your lack of sleep, trying to get you to crack a smile even as it feels impossible right now, before she gently moves you to lie back in bed.

"M' not tired," You mumble, trying to protest against the idea of sleep.

"I don't think thats' true now, is it?" Leah chuckles, tucking you into bed, "I'm so sorry that you have to deal with this now, bubs, but you know that you have a family here with us. We may not be blood, but we really do love you so much," Before you know it, your eyes are fluttering shut but you don't miss hearing the blondes' words before she presses a gentle kiss against your forehead.

You really had found your family here at arsenal.

© scribblesofagoonerr

#arsenal x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal women x reader #scribblesofagoonerr #woso x reader

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter Pt 8

Read the other 7 parts HERE

Warnings: cursing, suggestions to sex, mentions of throwing up, that should be it!

WC: 4.8k

A/N: hello 👋

“Really? You still have interest?” Jessie looks baffled, her eyes wide with raised eyebrows.

“Oh don’t act so surprised, you saw me staring earlier.”

“Yeah I did.” She smiles, thinking back to how she had intentionally wiped her forehead while facing in your direction. She was more than pleased with herself when she put back down her shirt to see you had been watching.

“Look, you said terrible things, and if anything even remotely close to that happens again, I will never speak to you again. But Jessie I really like you. I want to give you a second chance even though maybe I shouldn’t but I’d like to believe what you and Janine both said is true. This isn’t your typical behavior, you’re just under a lot of pressure.”

“I promise I’m not usually like this.”

“I know, that’s why I like you. But that’s also why this is so frustrating and why the other night hurt me so much. I know you’re not usually like this, I know how kind and caring and sweet you are. And if it wasn’t for all this, the fact that we work together, in this dynamic, I would’ve asked you out on a proper date weeks ago.” It’s true, if you haven’t worked with her, if you’d met her at school, at a cafe, just walking down the street, you would’ve already taken her out. You would’ve asked her on dates, but you couldn’t, not when you worked together.

“Then fuck all this,” she gestures to the room and the Canada logo on her own training top. “Just ask anyway.”

“I don’t want to get you or myself in trouble.” You look at the logo on her shirt, it wasn’t that easy to just say fuck it to the team, the team Jessie had represented since she was 15.

“We can talk to whoever we need to.” She spits out.

“Oh be for real Jessie we haven’t even gone on a date, we don’t need to be in Helen’s office signing paperwork already.” You give her a smile, it was nice she was willing to talk to Helen but a little too early.

A smile breaks on Jessie’s face. “Okay, maybe that was a little premature.” The smile from her face fades as she speaks again. “So, maybe we go with the original plan? Wait until these games are over, see where we’re at?”

You nod in agreement. “But for now, coworkers.”

“Coworkers.” Jessie repeats looking at you before a mischievous smile comes across her face.

“What?” You ask, somewhat afraid of what her answer might be.

“This is I think the third time we’ve agreed to be coworkers.” She scoffs.

“No, this time I’m serious.” You do your best to give her a stern look.

“You said that last time.” She laughs

“Shut up.” You can’t help but laugh with her, you two were terrible at being coworkers.

“At least it’s only a few more days and one more game.” She says softly after she’s done giggling.

“Only one more game.”

You quickly found yourself getting ready for that final game. The reality that you were helping prep players for an Olympic gold medal match had you a little extra nervous. Canada was taking on Spain. Reigning World Cup Champions Spain.

The first 90’ minutes of the game felt like they went by in a blink. When the whistle blew the score remained 0-0. Both teams had good shots, both keepers making impressive saves.

The extra time came and went as well and suddenly you felt like you were back a few days ago.

Penalties. Again.

You watch the first few players step up. Julia makes her penalty 1-0, a Spain player makes her’s as well, 1-1. Feeling overwhelmed, you stare at the ground for the next few players. You watch your feet, you don’t even need to watch. You can hear the silence followed by the kick and you get the answer on save or miss through the reactions of the staff standing next to you. Chloe misses, 1-1, Spain makes theirs 1-2, Jordyn makes it 2-2, a player from Spain misses 2-2, Ashley makes her kick, and the Spanish player misses wide, 3-2.

You feel a quick pinch at your side where your Mom’s hand was resting around your waist. You look up to her and she subtly nods toward the field. You turn and watch as Jessie picks up the ball. You can practically feel the air get sucked out of your lungs. She was taking Canada’s fifth and final kick. If she makes it, it’s over. If she misses, Spain has the chance to tie.

You watch her meticulously place the ball, adjusting it a few times. Once she’s satisfied with the ball, she takes three steps back, and looks down, closing her eyes for a moment. You held your breath, beginning to subconsciously time how long she was waiting. You started to panic, feeling like you could puke, it felt like she was waiting too long again, or maybe it just felt like time had frozen. Jessie opened her eyes, and began her approach. She kicked it and you watched as the ball slammed against the back of the net.

You’re practically yanked onto the field by those around you, you’re not even sure where you were running besides the mass of red and white in front of you. You end up in the mob of bodies, receiving random hugs from whoever was around you. You kept your eyes scanning hoping to find Jessie, her height not helping her stand out. You also know she’s likely in the middle of the mass of her teammates, scoring the winning penalty.

As the initial celebration dies down, the players begin to spread out. Some find their families in the crowd, others moving to sit and soak in the moment. You keep your eyes scanning, hoping to find the girl with the armband.

While you’re busy spinning in circles looking for her, someone grabs your hand from behind.

“Come here.” The captain had found you before you could find her. Jessie grabs your hand, pulling you out and away from the crowd. The two of you move over to the side of the pitch, not far off from her teammates but enough to be in your own space. She turns you toward her, dropping your hand.

“I thought about you.” She says, tears in her eyes, her hands holding your face between them, her thumbs gently rubbing your cheeks. “I thought about you when I took that kick. You were my calm person.”

“I almost threw up.” You admit to her.

“What?” Jessie says, a mix of concern and a smile across her face. Her hands are still on your cheeks.

“I was so nervous watching you kick.”

“Oh.” She laughs. “You’re the reason I wasn’t nervous.” You’re grateful Jessie was able to quickly move past the fact that you had almost thrown up from nerves, embarrassed that you even said it to her.

“Congratulations, you deserve it Jessie.” You say, finally getting out the words you prepared and meant to say when you first saw her.

“I wouldn’t have been here without you, you deserve this too.” Her eyes are still locked with yours. You both stand listening to the rest of the team celebrate behind you. You both break eye contact hearing some screaming getting louder.

“Wooooooooo” you watch as Janine goes running by, a flag in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other hand with Jordyn and Julia following shortly behind her yelling to give them back the bottle. You watch as Jessie rolls her eyes at her teammate’s behavior. You both turn back toward each other. This time Jessie’s eyes move down to your lips, then to your eyes and back to your lips. She moves her head slightly toward you.

“Jessie.” You warn her, you don’t want her to stop but you want to remind her that you’re both standing in a packed stadium with hundreds of cameras taking photos.

“Who cares.” She whispers before she starts to lean in again. You start to close your own eyes, not leaning in, wanting this to be her choice to kiss you in front of her team, her coaches, her family that was likely here.

“Congratulations Jessie.” You hear a voice you know all too well to the side of you. One of your Mom’s hands coming down on your shoulder while the other comes down on Jessie’s shoulder. You feel a slight push back on you, breaking up how close you and Jessie were.

Jessie’s hands fall from your face as she turns to look at your Mom.

“Oh, um, thank you, hey congratulations to you too, none of us would be here without all your hard work.”

“Thank you Jessie, assuming you were just thanking my daughter as well?” Your Mom gives you a quick glance, you know she’s teasing both of you, Jessie doesn’t get the message, trying to explain herself.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, she’s been great, um obviously, with my injury of course, my calf, she helped me a lot. I was thanking her for all that.” The way Jessie starts to stutter, tripping over her words as she tries to subtly deny the fact that she was about to kiss you, it was cute. You’re sure if she wasn’t already red in the face from playing, her cheeks would be from embarrassment.

“Hey if I don’t see you again before you players go out tonight, be safe, look out for each other.”

“We will.” Jessie assures your Mom before she walks away leaving you two again.

“She really has impeccable timing doesn’t she.” Jessie looks at you.

“She does.” You say before muttering “cockblock” under your breath only it comes out a little bit louder than you expected.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You both stand for a second, your chance to kiss clearly over as you’ve both been brought back to reality of standing in the stadium, Jessie’s teammates still running around. You watch as she scans the crowd before her head stops moving and she waves.

“There’s my family.” She points in the direction she waved in and you see a small group of people waving back at her.

“Go.” You shove her in their direction and she looks at you giving you one last smile before taking off running in their direction. You watch her, looking at the back of her jersey as she runs away to be pulled into a group hug. You turn back to go find the rest of the staff, giving your congratulations to whoever you passed in a Canada shirt as they did the same back to you.

The stadium is soon only filled with a sea of red, the Spain supporters leaving. The podiums are brought out at you watch as they begin to set up for the medal ceremony.

The team is quickly ushered back into the changing rooms put on their designated podium outfits. They quickly come back out, lining up to step up and receive their medals.

You stand off to the side, watching as France steps onto the bronze medal platform, followed by Spain. And then you watch as the Canadian team steps up. You can’t help but feel tears in your eyes, watching the girls that you’ve been working with for countless days helping at training, at matches, helping them stretch on the bus or in a hotel room, all those moments, all they had worked for and they did it. You watched as they got their medals Jessie receiving hers from Janine and putting one around Sabrina’s neck.

You watched as Jessie picked up the medal around her neck, examining it with her hands, flipping it around. You watch as Janine leans over, saying something into Jessie’s ear, Jessie immediately picking up her head and looking in your direction. She gives you a smile when her eyes meet yours. Janine must’ve noticed you staring and told her. You give her a thumbs up before they begin playing all the national anthems.

Once the ceremony is finished you stand around a bit longer, watching all the players soak in the moment together. You find yourself catching Jessie’s eye every once in a while until she finally makes her way over to you.

“You’re coming out with us, right?” She slings an arm around your shoulder.

“Tonight?”

“Obviously, we’re going to go celebrate, we’ve got a bar rented out.” You had heard discussions of the post game celebrations, but never really read into them too much, you didn’t want to get too ahead of yourself thinking they’d win, it felt like you’d jinx them.

“I don’t want to intrude, if it’s a player thing.”

“It’s not, everyone’s invited, coaches, staff, families, everyone.” Jessie turns so her lips are against your ear. “Plus, I want you to be there.” She says quietly. You feel your skin prickle at her low voice and the feeling of her breath on your body.

You stumble over your own words as you agree to meet them at the bar later, your brain short circuiting from the feeling of her lips against your ear. “Oh, then yeah I’ll be there.”

You quickly found yourself a couple drinks in, courtesy of the Canadian foundation, in a rather large, but dark bar. Loud music and conversation filling the air. You had only arrived about an hour ago, thankfully it was within walking distance from the hotel. You had gone back and changed into a nicer pair of gray jeans and a simple Canada sweatshirt. Since you opted to change you did not arrive at the same time as Jessie, you had been unable to find her since arriving. You felt like you were back searching for her on the field after the match. Most of the players had remained in their sweatsuits, some changing into other t-shirts, sweatpants. You had found just about every other player, who all led you astray in which direction they last saw their captain.

You make your way back to the bar to get another drink, deciding you’ll just go sit with Olivia and the rest of the staff at the table they had occupied.

“Hey, where have you been?” You feel hands grab tightly onto your hips and you turn to see the brown eyes you’ve been looking for.

“Hi, I changed.” You gesture down to the fact that you were no longer wearing athletic clothing like you did while at work. “but I’ve been here an hour or so, I’ve been running around looking for you.”

“I’ve been looking for you.” Her eyes graze over your body. “You look good.” You can smell the alcohol radiating off of Jessie you’re not sure if it’s alcohol she’s consumed or if it’s just a mix of the champagne that was sprayed across her skin in celebration along with the smell of the bar. Her hands are still firm on your hips. “Come here.” She gently tugs you away from the bar.

“Hang on, let me grab this.” You reach for the beer the bartender had placed in front of you and then let yourself be pulled away.

She moves to grab your free hand instead and keeps pulling you, through the mass of red and white, back to the back corner of the bar and into a small hallway.

“Where are we going?” You ask when she finally stops walking.

“Here, where it’s just you and me.” Her hands find their way back to your hips and she pushes you back so you’re against the cool brick wall. “So we can do this.”

Her hand comes up to your cheek as it did after the game, but this time it doesn’t stop at your cheek she keeps moving it to the back of your neck, gently pulling you toward her and she moves in. This kiss was different than the rest, the rest had been timid, soft, gentle. This kiss was firm, her lips starting to move against yours immediately, its only a few seconds before you feel her tongue against your lips. You part your lips and let your own tongue graze against hers. You get the answer to your earlier question as you can taste the tequila and what you think is vodka on her tongue. The taste has you pulling back.

“Hey.” Jessie protests, a frown across her face.

“Are you drunk?” You put your hand without the beer against her chest, holding her back from leaning in to kiss you again.

“What?” She cooks her head at you.

“Are you just making out with me because you’re drunk? I can taste the liquor.”

“No you idiot, I mean yes I’ve been drinking, but I’m not drunk, plus I’ve wanted to makeout with you for weeks.”

“Okay but we’re in public. You team could see.” It’s not that you don’t believe her when she says she’s not drunk, it’s just you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy with her choices to suddenly makeout with you in a bar, knowing she had definitely consumed something.

“I don’t care.”

“Jessie, no.” You step away from her..

“What? Oh come on? Because I’ve had three drinks? How many have you had?” She posed a fair question, she had had just as many drinks of you but you had been at the bar for far less time, if anyone was the problem here it would’ve been you.

“I just think you’re not fully considering the consequences of making out with me in a public bar. When you’re sober, we can do this.”

She leans down close to you and you think she’s going to kiss you again, but she brings her mouth toward your ear. “Okay, then I’m done drinking because I want to makeout with you. I promise I’m not drunk, not even tipsy, but if you want to wait that’s fine.”

“Okay.” You reply and Jessie turns walking back into the room. You follow her and watch as she makes her way to the bar, when she turns back she has two bottles of water in her hands.

“You should drink if you want to drink, it’s your night to celebrate.” You say when she comes over to your side, shaking one of the bottles of water at you. You don’t want to be the reason she doesn’t celebrate.

“No, I’m not a big drinker anyway, I had already decided to be done, I just got peer pressured into some shots with some of the youngsters when I first got here.” She takes a large sip of water.

“Jessie.” Your conversation is interrupted by hearing someone call from behind you and a girl runs up to her followed by two other men and a woman.

“Hi! Oh I’ve miss you.” Jessie takes the girl into a tight hug before releasing her and moving onto the next person hugging the next person.

“We’re so proud of you honey!”

“Thanks Mom.” Jessie mutters into the women’s hug. That's when you’re able to make the connection, this was Jessie’s family standing in front of you.

“This is my family, my mom, dad, sister and brother.” She points to each person. She introduced her family to you. She starts explaining how you’ve helped her with her injuries, and how you help everyone with stretching and staying healthy. She’s singing your praises to her family, making you blush standing next to her.

You stick around for a couple minutes as Jessie continues to talk about you. Not wanting to force her family to listen to stories about you, you tell Jessie you’ll be over at a table and leave her to enjoy the moment with her family.

You slide into a booth next to Janine and a few other people you didn’t know, assumed friends and family of the team. It doesn't take long for Janine to bring up the topic of Jessie.

“Just so you know,” Janine claps her hand hard against your back, giving you a slight shake. She leans in close to you. “I’m spending tonight, and probably the rest of the nights we’re here in his hotel room.” She points at the man next to you who now you recognize from photos to be her fiancé. “So there won’t be someone else in Jessie’s room.” You pull back to just look at her, you couldn’t believe what she was implying.

Janine must’ve thought you didn’t understand what she was suggesting when you didn’t respond. “Ya know, if you and a certain someone want to-”

“I know what you meant!” You spit out quickly. Taking a sip of the water you had. Upon your snappy response Janine quickly changed the subject, eying up the medal around her neck again, showing it to her fiancé.

It wasn’t long before you felt the booth sag next to you and Jessie alone with her sister found themselves next to you in the booth.

“Elysse!” Janine exclaims reaching over you and Jessie to attempt to hug the girl. Both of them leaning in pushes you and Jessie practically into each others laps.

“Sorry.” You apologize to Jessie, it wasn’t your fault but you felt like you were squishing her.

“All good.” She gives you a sweet smile before returning to her own personal space as Janine removes herself from across you two.

“Hey.” she slaps Jessie’s leg getting her attention. “I just finished telling this one that-” You almost go to cover Janine’s mouth with your hand. You know she’s been drinking and you also knew what was about to come out of her mouth. But you don’t stop her, instead you tilt your head down clenching your eyes hoping it’ll stop Janine’s words, only it doesn’t. “I’ll be in Ethan’s hotel room the rest of the trip, if you want to use it.”

“Oh.” You can feel Jessie’s eyes burning into the side of your head as you slowly open your eyes and send a pointed look in Janine’s direction.

“What?” She says, reading the uncomfortable looks you and Jessie were both giving her. “Oh what, do you two really think you’re doing such a good job of keeping it secret? You were practically making bedroom eyes at each other during the medal ceremony today.”

“Janine!” Jessie shouts at her friend before just shaking her head. You finally have the courage to take a glance at Jessie, her eyes are wide, she looks uncomfortable, you can also see her sister behind her looking between you and Jessie, trying to stifle a laugh.

“Alright, it might be time to get you out of here.” Janine’s fiancé says, grabbing Janine’s hand as he stood up. He gives a quick wave at the table, half as an apology, half as a goodbye. You all wave back to him and Janine and they walk into the mass of people.

You sat for a little bit longer, some teammates coming to join your table for a few minutes to chat before they’d run off to talk with someone else. It was only an hour later that Jessie’s Dad found his way to the table. “Jess, we’re going to get out of here, it’s late and we’re not young anymore, we’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah of course.” Jessie responds, she smacks your leg a few times then pointing to the side of you. You get the hint and stand up to let her out of the table. You watch as she stands up giving her Dad a tight hug.

“Coming now or later?” Her Dad looks at Jessie’s sister.

“Now, just give me a second to use the restroom.” She nods and her Dad walks away after they agree to meet outside.

“I don’t have to pee, I just wanted him to walk away. You two enjoy your night without Janine.” She says with a wink and a look between the two of you. You look over to Jessie who’s sporting a blushed red face. Her sister stands up to hug her and whispers something into Jessie’s ear, making her turn even more red. She gives you a quick wave and heads in the direction of the door.

“I think I’m going to call it a night too, feeling tired.” You say, suddenly feeling the exhaustion of the day hit you all at once. A yawn coming out of your mouth.

“I was actually thinking the same thing.” Jessie flashes you a smile. “Would you want to walk together?” You’re not sure if Jessie actually was ready to go or just decided she was going to leave since you were.

“That would be nice.” You take the empty water bottle from her hand and toss it onto the bin with yours. “Do you need to say bye to anyone?” Jessie just shakes her head.

“Do you?” You shake your head back. Your Mom had gone out with some of the older training staff, not wanting to be in a rowdy bar, Olivia was still around but you’d text her later letting her know you were back in your room. You’re not sure even if you said goodbye to anyone if they’d remember it in the morning or not.

The night was quiet when you stepped outside of the bar, Jessie shortly behind you. You start walking in the direction of the hotel and she quickly jogs to catch up. The two of you walk side by side down the roadway.

“Does it feel different the second time?” You break the silence asking.

“Does what feel different?” Her pace slows down as she turns her head to look at you.

“Winning gold.”

You hear her breathe in and then watch as she tilts her head slightly, deep in thought.

“It’s different, but I’m not sure if it's the winning that’s different. Last time it was an empty stadium, we didn’t get to do the celebrations with family and friends, there weren’t people watching, it felt so isolated, but it was in a weird way more peaceful. We got to just sit on the field, really soak it in.” She took another breath. “We didn’t get to do that, even if we could’ve there would’ve been fans, it would’ve been rowdy. Not to say one is better than the other, but yeah it’s different. I also wasn’t captain last time, so this time was more stressful, I felt like a lot of it was on me. Even though I know it wasn’t, it just felt that way.”

You hum acknowledging her answer as you walk into the lobby of the hotel. It’s thankfully pretty empty, Jessie's teammates still out celebrating and only a few other country’s athletes sitting around. You both get into the elevator, you press the button and you can feel a tension building as you ride up in silence. When you get out you walk Jessie to her door first, wanting to be polite and make sure she gets in alright.

“I’m sorry if Janine made it weird earlier. I'm not sure why she said that. I mean I get it but, I don’t want you to think I told her that was going to happen or anything. I don’t expect it to.” Jessie turns before she puts her keycard to the door.

“It’s all good. Little uncomfortable, especially with your sister there but it’s alright.” You shrug. It was uncomfortable but you didn’t mind too much, you had already forgotten about the conversation until Jessie brought it up again.

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll have to explain myself to her later, she thought it was funny, she teased me for how red I got.”

“Yeah.” You both stand awkwardly outside of Jessie’s hotel room, you shift your weight between your feet, swaying slightly.

“Um, do you want to-”

“Have a goodnight-”

You both speak at the same time.

“Go ahead.” She gestures to you.

“I was just going to say goodnight.” You didn’t want to invite yourself into her hotel room despite Janine’s offer.

“Oh, yeah okay.” You can tell she seems a little disappointed.

“What were you saying?”

“I was going to invite you in?” Jessie looks up at you, her eyes with a glimmer of hope in them. She blinks quickly a few times before adding “Only if you want to, you don’t have to, I’m not expecting anything, you don’t even have to stay very long if you don’t want to, I just thought,”

“Jessie.” You cut her off, able to tell she was starting to overthink by the way her hands were fidgeting. “I’d like to come in.” You say before you lean down, now it’s her back pressed against the wall as your lips find hers. You pull away before any of her teammates or god forbid your mother decides to take a trip down the hallway and sees you two. Jessie turns to unlock the door and you follow her inside. You pull your phone out quickly texting Olivia.

You: Probably not coming back to the room at all tonight, or if I do it’ll be late, don’t worry about me I’m safe.

It takes a minute but she responds.

Olivia: Thanks for the heads up, I expect all the details of your escapades tomorrow

Olivia: seriously though, be safe, don’t do anything stupid.

You look up from your phone over at Jessie, thinking to yourself at least if you “do” anything, it wasn’t considered doing anything stupid, Jessie was smart.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt x reader #jessie fleming blurb

[evmrellie]

Labyrinth | s.r x gn!reader

summary: You're scared about your feelings for Spencer. Insp by labyrinth from Taylor Swift.

genre: fluffly and hurt/comfort. pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader (I'm a girl so I wrote going on this way, but I think I didn't gave any descriptions abt being one, so it's totally safe for gn!readers <333 if I did, I'm sorry, I didn't notice.) words: 1,3K warnings: family issues, inexperienced!reader, reader never being in a relationship before, insecurity, anxiety, mention of toxic relationships (not between reader and anyone else) notes: hiii, this is my first oneshot so plss be nice 😭✋🏻 im not used to write like this, but I'm so obsessed with Spencer and I had this idea and I couldn't just let go. English it's not my first language, so forgive me if any mistakes or if u guys don't understand smth. not proofread. hope you guys like it !! <3

It only hurts this much right now

Was what I was thinking the whole time

You've never trusted relationships, not that you had experienced any, but what you saw growing up? What you were used to? Didn't make you want to get into one in the first place.

You never denied that you've dreamed about that; finding a true love and a nice, healthy relationship since you saw all your friends living it. That hurted you a little, but you learned how to live with it.

Breathe in, breathe through

Breathe deep, breathe out

I'll be getting over you my whole life

You tried to catch your breath, adjusting it as much as possible. You were used to unlearn the ability of breathing when you were around people who made you nervous, especially if you had a slightly crush on them. Actually, you unlearn every normal thing that humans do when they interact, it's like a part of your brain stops working and refused to turn it on again. He loved to make you embarrassed, especially in front of pretty nerd ish boys.

The first time you met Spencer it consumed all of your brain chemistry. Day and night making fantasies of how it would be meeting the boy again with the help of destiny, falling in love and maybe being obsessed with you the same way you were with him. But you knew that it was just a fantasy and it would never happen, it was just your brain trying to distract you from the real world and your real problems.

It was a nice escape though.

You know how scared I am of elevators

Never trust it if it rises fast

It can't last

Everything happened so fast in your time vision, it terrified you of how easy he was able to get through it. You were always scared of relationships because, yeah, it was nice and easy to fantasy about it, but to actually live it? That scared the shit out of you. All your Inexperience, insecurities and traumas couldn't be fixed from one day to another.

Everything that you learned from your parents was that if you dived in too quickly, it would be a mistake. Not only from your parents, but also from people you were close to, seeing their relationship rise too fast and going effortlessly and awfully down.

You never understood why they keept doing it, sinking into the same situation over and over again, sometimes with the same or a different guy. How they kept being pulled and compelled by it? You didn't understand because you never felt it.

It was so scary how relationships could rise so fast and sink at the same speed.

Uh oh, I'm falling in love

Oh no, I'm falling in love again

Oh, I'm falling in love

You understood why they kept like that in the worst — best— way possible.

When it first hit you that you were falling in love with Spencer felt like a harsh slap in your face, leaving red bruises and a terrible burning in. You didn't want to accept it, it was frightening to actually let it in.

Was getting hard with the passing time, he wasn't getting any easier and neither were his loving and caring acts. I mean, how could someone like him be so.. careful with you? You felt like a broken piece who would never be loved and receive this kinda of treatment, it was starting to confuse you.

You knew he wasn't the type of person who liked being touched or touching other ones, but with you? Every possibility of being close to you, hugging you, touching your hand and giving a sweet cuddle in that same spot was driving you insane. He made sure that any free time he had, he spent with you. Or even at work, in his free time that he used to call you.

Reid talked to you about his mom and his abandonment issues with his father so openly that made you open yourself with him too. You didn't want to scare him telling him about your family situation or make him think you're a weird, problematic person, but you couldn't let him vent to you and not say a thing. He hasn't change with you. In fact, it only bought you both closer.

You ended up accepting what you felt for him, you didn't want to fight against it, deep down was a comfort feeling. For the first time you felt what everyone around you always talked about. And oh god, it really was an amazing feeling. But no, you would never tell him that. The thought of how this could end so fast after telling him that because probably it wasn't reciprocal, hurted you so bad that keeping it to yourself was the best decision you could make.

I thought the plane was going down

How'd you turn it right around

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His voice called you off of your own thoughts, his Cheshire Cat smile growing as he saw your face turning into a shade of burgundy.

“Like what?” You asked.

“Like a deer lost in the headlights.” He snorted a laugh.

“What?! I'm not-“

He interrupted you, getting up from the chair where he was lost doing his usual puzzles. Spencer walked over to you, resting one of his hands on your face while the other one brushed away a few strands of hair that fell into your eyes. You automatically snuggled your face between Spencer's hands, smirking and closing your eyes, enjoying the gentle caress his fingers made on your cheeks.

“Tell me, please.” He begged you, you could easily hear the smile into his words. He was always so polite, it made you want to scream into a pillow and kick your feets in the air.

You sighed, tired to hide how you felt.

“Honestly? About you. I think I already fell for you.”

It only feels this raw right now

Lost in the labyrinth of my mind

You were scared of his reaction, to look at him and see his eyes falling in pity for you; About him suddenly telling you to go home because he didn't felt the same and saying that this wouldn't work between you two. But to be honest, you couldn't hide anymore, not for him and not for yourself. You needed to break free from this labyrinth you created on your mind, there's no way you could keep up with this and stay cool like it didn't made your chest burn everytime you looked at him.

He surprised you by just laughing softly.

Break up, break free, break through, break down

You would break your back to make me break a smile

“Well, i’m pretty sure i am terriefiedly in love with you.”

You swore that if this was a joke you would combust and turn into a million pieces of yourself, no one would ever find you again.

Your eyes caught up at his sparkling hazel irises that conveyed how much he begged for the same answer. You always felt something carving like a dagger inside your chest when he looked at you like that, like you could break him with any wrong do.

It was absolutely terrifying how easy he broke you to this, to this situation where you could never lie and deny that you felt the exactly same for him. You were head over heels for him. Not in a million of worlds you could imagine that Spencer Reid felt the same thing you did for him, but you were also pretty sure that you were the one who would end up with the heart completely shattered if this ever come to an end.

“I love you so much, Spence.” You said, and then his lips parted open and you were able to feel his sweet taste coming into yours.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spenced feid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid x fem!reader

[jenscx]

[18] CALL ME BACK — right here

the sound of an engine revving catches your attention. your eyes move from wonyoung’s animated expression to the familiar black car, sakura’s face evident in the window.

she looks apologetic, but it flashes away once she sees who’s next to you. your throat automatically constricts, heat blooming at your cheeks when sakura struts to you, slamming the car door shut. you couldn’t help but find her anger attractive.

“baby,” she drawls out, “who’s this?” you can tell she’s acting. obviously sakura knows who jang wonyoung is.

“jang wonyoung, i’m yn’s close friend,” wonyoung introduces herself, but her smile is far from friendly. sakura grins back, her smirk akin to one of a predator. you twist your head to look at wonyoung again, her eyes flashing a glimpse of arrogance.

sakura’s hand slithers to embrace your waist. you nearly yelp at the sudden action. wonyoung’s eyes follow the movement, an eyebrow raising in question.

“you came pretty late,” wonyoung remarks cheekily, “did something, or someone, keep you from coming?” sakura’s jaw tightens, and so does the grip around your waist. you shriek.

“asshole!” you smack sakura’s shoulder, she knew you were ticklish there! your girlfriend merely chuckles, “sorry darling, but i just fell asleep. i didn’t hear my alarm going off.”

wonyoung hums. you turn to look at your friend, she’s been acting a little strangely. is it because of sakura?

“so, y/n,” wonyoung starts, a devilish smirk on her face, “wanna hang out on saturday? we left some things unsaid.” you furrow your brows, thinking of you had anything on saturday.

“uh, i think i’m fre—”

“baby, did you forget we have a date then?” sakura interrupts. you tilt your head curiously. since when did you arrange a date with sakura?

“huh?”

“aw, what about sunday? or are you spending both days together?” wonyoung pouts.

this time, sakura doesn’t retort.

“i think i’m free but i’ll get back to you?” you reply, but it comes out more like a question. being in the vicinity of both sakura and wonyoung confused you madly. not to mention, sakura was likely to leave bruises the way she gripped your waist.

at this point, sakura becomes restless and hugs you from the back.

“love, are you hungry? do you want to go get food?” she asks. your ears turn red at the nickname. sakura never called you ‘love’ before. it made butterflies swarm your stomach and your throat constrict with nervousness.

“uhh, ye-yeah… let’s go, kkura. see you tomorrow, or something, wonyoung,” you stutter, too focused on the way sakura caressed your waist and the attractive smirk plastered on her face.

wonyoung frowns, but covers it up quickly with a wave of her hand. you fumble in your steps to sakura’s car, her hand never leaving your side once. you think you might have saw her turn around to give wonyoung the finger, but maybe you were hallucinating. once you settle into the car, sakura turns on the radio.

“oh, baby,” she exclaims in glee, “this is the song we heard on our first date!” your ears perk up, it’s keshi.

“you remember that?” you ask.

“of course,” sakura rolls her eyes, turning the music louder. you giggle, stretching your hand out to encapsulate hers. your fingers intertwine as you hum to the melody. sakura spares you a few glances throughout the drive.

“i always thought you were really cute,” she says suddenly, “you came to the games but i never really talked to you, until that party.” you smile sheepishly at the thought of the party where you met sakura.

“that was so embarrassing, i almost puked on you,” you laugh. sakura shrugs, “it was cute, i had to hold your hair up and everything. like a meet-cute.”

you can’t help but feel warmth spreading all over you. sakura was so sweet. and such an amazing girlfriend.

“i’m sure i could have had a better first impression.. i probably looked terrible then.”

“oh baby, you already had all my attention the moment i saw you on those stands,” sakura laughs, “anything you did, i would just think you’re cute.” the song ends right at this moment. sakura continues humming while red flushes on your cheeks, spreading from your ears down to your neck.

why was sakura so smooth with her words? you both loved and hated it.

“stop being so cute, i’ll actually go crazy,” you mutter. sakura quirks an eyebrow up, “crazy for me?”

“yeah, crazy for you.”

“wouldn’t that be a dream for me?” you pout at your girlfriend, “stop making me so flustered, i’ll stop talking to you.”

sakura sighs dramatically, “i would die without your attention.” based on the way she acted previously, you wouldn’t be surprised if her words held some truth to them. the moment dies down and you’re back to comfortable silence. you enjoy car rides with sakura; you don’t have to keep talking to fill up the silence, you can just gaze at the ever changing scenery of the city. at its darkest, it is the prettiest. all the city lights flashing, shining at its brightest. it’s kind of ironic.

at a red light, sakura turns to you, “i’m really sorry for coming late. i didn’t mean to, and i just didn’t hear my alarm going off.”

you shrug, “it’s all good, kkura.”

“still, i’ll make it up to you,” sakura’s eyes glisten with sincerity. you melt at the puppy look and instantly lean in for a quick peck on the cheek.

“you look so cute right now. ugh, i hate how you always look so adorable without trying.” if not for the red light turning green, you would have taken both of her cheeks in your hands and started squishing her.

sakura giggles like a school girl. you almost feel like a teenager having a crush for the first time again.

“you’re always gorgeous without trying too.”

you wave her compliment off, “even when i’m crying with snot all over my face? remember when we watched move to heaven together? i wailed like a baby.”

your girlfriend snorts at the memory. your tear-stricken face along with rosy cheeks, paired with sniffles all throughout the episodes. “i still thought you were cute,” she remarks.

“sakura, i looked like i just crawled out of a sewer on most days,” you sigh. sakura falls silent. the only thing you hear is the running wheels of the car against the concrete streets.

“i beg to differ, but even at your worst,” sakura smiles, the city’s reflection in her eyes, “you’re still the only one in my heart. i’ll will be forever with you, right here.”

masterlist | next

TAGS ! @jiwoneiric @yoontoonwhs @haerinsloverr @wallfl9wer @klvarchives @r4cjh @jisooftme @jeindall777 @chaersly @perfectsunlight @thefckghost @pagedpick7 @pinxeajin @pandafuriosa60 @limbforalimb @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @sewiouslyz @manooffline @geeminz @flolio @watamotee33 @winzzie @gayforalll

#call me back ft. jwy #ive x reader #ive #jang wonyoung x reader #wonyoung x reader #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim #miyawaki sakura x reader #sakura x reader

[heyclickadee]

I understand that people are going to cope how they are going to cope, and trying to find meaning in the handling of Tech in season three is part of that, but it’s also okay to criticize the show.

I like a good character death. Tech’s departure was not that. My issue is not that he’s presumed dead, my issue is that it and the handling of it is nonsense. So (I once again get very negative about my favorite show under the cut):

1. When you kill off a main character, you really have to kill them off. How you do so can vary from story to story, but you really have to do four things:

One, you need a good reason to kill them off in the first place. (“Stakes” is not a good reason. A secondary character, sure, but not a main one. More on that in a minute.)

Two, you need to make it perfectly clear that the character is, in fact, dead.

Three, you need to show the other characters processing and accepting that death. This is important because doing so will allow the audience to do the same and let the character go. This is especially important if you’re writing for a young audience.

Four, you need to make it explicitly clear that the character cannot come back. This is especially true in sci fi or fantasy. Especially if you’re the Character Resurrection franchise.

And guess what the show didn’t do?

Any of that. Any of it. What it did instead was ambiguously remove Tech from the story (uniquely in a show that loves making us watch characters die on screen; last time we saw Tech for sure he was alive), never gave a good reason for doing so in or out of the show, never showed us any character working through the impact of his loss (even though there was ample opportunity for Omega, especially, to do so), and ripped the “could he come back?” box wide open by parading CX-2 in front of our faces. It is never, at any point, handled like an actual main character death. It’s handled as a plot point from which the narrative moves fairly quickly, and treated by all parties as an absence. By all the rules of storytelling, Tech isn’t dead. He’s just ambiguously gone. And that means the writing team did a terrible job if what they wanted to do was kill him off. We should not be debating this after the show has ended if he’s actually dead.

2. I understand why some fans are trying to find meaning in losing Tech. I am not, because that meaning is not offered by the text itself. And, if the plan was to never bring him back, it should have been.

We are not, for example, offered a lesson about how not everyone comes home from the war. In order for that to have been the case, we would have needed to see someone, probably Omega, working through that. We would have needed to see her refusing to accept that Tech is gone—like we do in Plan 99, by the way—and slowly coming to terms with the idea that her brother isn’t coming home. But we don’t get that, not even as subtext.

Something else we could have gotten that would have worked with all the little visual reminders of Tech, empty chairs, name-drops, and even the CX-2 leading? The batch being so haunted by losing Tech and not really knowing what happened to him for sure that they start seeing him everywhere. But for that to work we would have needed, again, to see that as an explicit subplot where someone, probably Omega, again, gets really invested in the signs that Tech is coming back and even starts assuming that CX-2 is him, only to realize that she’s seeing what she wants to see and having to accept that Tech isn’t coming back, but that she can still keep Tech’s memory alive by following in his footsteps. That’s something you can kind of project onto what we’re given in the epilogue, but you do have to project it, because it’s entirely absent from the rest of the show.

As is, Tech’s sacrifice isn’t given any weight. From a narrative perspective, it was an incredibly contrived set of circumstances that accomplished nothing except punting Tech off a train, and gave Tech no choice but to remove himself from the story—exit, stage down. Losing Tech doesn’t, even sub-textually, serve as anyone’s motivation. It does nothing to move the plot or anyone’s character development forward. The primary motivators of season three were Omega’s kidnapping, Crosshair’s PTSD, and Hemlock needing to get Omega back.

Tech’s absence does nothing to move anything forward and only really serves to slow the plot down and make the others struggle to do anything because he’s not there to carry the team like he did in the first two seasons—and nothing about that would have played out any differently if Tech spent the season in a coma in a bacta tank. The only part of Tech’s sacrifice that has meaning is that he loved his family enough to offer it. And that is profound, but that’s not something that would be negated by a return because the love and the offer remain. As for his presumed death? His return couldn’t have taken meaning away from that, because the show never gave it any meaning in the first place.

And no, Tech “dying” isn’t something I have to accept. Tech isn’t a real person, he’s an idea, and an idea that didn’t come to fruition. I can point out the ways the handling of his departure didn’t work all day if I want.

3. CX-Tech was not an overly online theory. I need people to understand this. It was an assumption made by most of the casual audience. My sister, who has no contact with the fandom and doesn’t like me discussing the show at all until she’s seen it, assumed he was Tech. My brother-in-law, who was a die-hard Tech-has-to-be-dead-shut-up guy for the entire hiatus and the first half of season three, was convinced he was Tech. Every kid I’ve spoken to who watched the show thought he was Tech and is deeply confused that he got speared like that. My brother, who doesn’t even watch the show but who does walk by when I’m watching it sometimes, thought he was Tech. You can’t get more casual and away from the fandom than that.

The thing is, the answer we get isn’t that he’s not Tech. It’s, “We’re not telling.” Which means that as it currently stands, a season-and-a-half of CX buildup amounted to a five minute boss fight and a non-answer. That’s…not something that works! That’s atrocious writing if that was the whole sum of their intent all along.

And you can say, well, that was a clever misdirect! Plot twist! Except, one, misdirects and twists only work if the real answer is more satisfying than the false one, otherwise it just falls flat. Two, if it was a misdirect, it’s not one the creative team is willing to own. No one will touch the Tech-CX-2 parallels with a twenty-foot pole, except the Kiners, who have incredibly meaningful explanations for every musical choice but then say shit like, “that chord just sounds good in brass” about Battle of the Snipers (…before going on to say that the four note lose motif from “Plan 99” is Tech’s leitmotif…which is also all over Battle of the Snipers…and is only there according because the batch is divided in that scene, a scene in which Crosshair’s leitmotif is entirely absent even though he’s just supposed to be fighting his own dark side represented by a guy who’s totally not Tech. Sure. I’m going to go eat drywall.) Because acknowledging that and saying that was supposed to be Tech will just make the audience angrier, and they may not even be allowed to do so, and saying that it is Tech—you can understand why they can’t do that, right? The implications are horrific. But that horrific implication is probably what at least some of the casual audience who will never interact with the fandom or a single interview is going to walk away with.

4. The thing that bothers me most about all of this is the combined toxicity of the fandom and the leading from the marketing and social media. Part of the fandom saying that there were never any signs Tech could have survived (in Star Wars, no less) is starting to feel like gaslighting; and while I don’t think there was any malice in the leading in the marketing and social media—I’m even willing to give a tiny bit of leeway for the creative team maybe knowing something we don’t yet—it was handled badly, expectations for this season should have been set early and clearly, and as of right now it all feels like an incredibly cruel prank at autistic fans expense, whatever the intent may have been or may still be.

5. And finally, here’s the thing: I’m willing to give the writers a bit of leeway on this. I’m willing to grant that some choices may have been out of their hands for unknown reasons. I’m even willing to say that maybe they’re not really done with this story yet, that The Bad Batch could just be the first chapter of a longer show that was split up for stupid business reasons, and that the finale is the way it is because they had to have an ending of sorts without actually resolving anything. I’m willing to grant a lot of grace there. In fact, I actually think there’s a very good chance we’ll still get Tech back alive in canon, and sooner than later, if only because no one (not even the voice actors) seems happy about this, most fans are coping but disappointed at best, the creative team got asked about Tech non-stop for a solid year and a half, and the writers don’t seem at all committed. We know from the rest of the show that they know how to definitively kill a guy, and, frankly, Tech in the first two seasons comes across as something of a writer favorite. They like using him!

But whatever I’m hoping or suspecting, and whatever leeway I’m willing to grant the creative team here, the final product is all we have right now. And I am going to criticize that final product for badly handling a (presumed) character death and straight up breaking the central conceit of the show in doing so.

#the bad batch #one thing I will say #is that if I knew for sure #that ‘the cavalry has arrived’ was simply a midpoint #not really a series finale in the writers’ heads but just a season finale #and that this story was going to continue but now with more focus on Rex and Echo #with Tech as the bridge between the two series #I would not be nearly as harsh about the finale as I am #it doesn’t resolve anything it simply stops #because it had to end

[loud-sturniolos]

Crush, 2

A Chris Sturniolo fic

SUMMARY:

After the universe managed to make Chris and Y/N’s friendship awkward, Y/N goes on a date with another boy, only for her night to end up with her crying in Chris’s arms instead of naked in a strangers bed like she’d planned.

WARNINGS:

Same as pt. 1(hard on the cliche warning), a bit of angst, ends in fluff + confession, switching POVS (mainly 3rd person though), Y/N being kinda stupid/oblivious for a moment, not proof read.

TROPES:

Friends to lovers, one bed (pt 1), best friends brother, slowburn romance

A/N: I did not describe Y/Ns outfit for the date, because I know not everybody wears what I would have described, so y’all can make up your own outfit 😽 Also, never been on a date before, so forgive me for the terrible writing about said-shit-date

link to part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/loud-sturniolos/750056049665572864/crush-1

Chris ran into his room, expecting to see Y/N there, but he didn’t. He heard Matt laughing in the living room, and assumed he was with Y/N.

After Chris got dressed, he made his way up to the kitchen and found Y/N eating poptarts with Matt and Nick, all laughing about something. He stared silently at Y/N for a moment, admiring as she giggled at something Nick showed her on his phone. His eyes then went to Matt, who gave him a sly smirk before going back to talking to Y/N.

Y/N seemed to be ignoring him, he chalked it up to the fact she was probably embarrassed about what happened, which he was too. He walked over to the cupboards, looking for something to eat for breakfast.

“So, who’s this boy you’re going on a date with?” Nick asked Y/N, being obnoxiously loud. Chris looked over with his brows furrowed, trying to ignore the jealousy bubbling up. “You’re going on another date?” He asked, to which Y/N hummed in response, refusing to even look at him. “Yeah.. it’s not like a proper date though, I mean I don’t even know if I like him.. he’s cute though.” Y/N said quietly, unable to hide the smile that graced her lips as she spoke about the anonymous boy. “That’s nice.” Chris replied blandly, making Nick raise an eyebrow but say nothing.

It had been a few hours since Y/N showed obvious signs of her crush on the anonymous boy, and Chris was sat alone in his room playing Lil Skies and scrolling through Instagram, mindlessly sucking a lollipop when his bedroom door opened and Y/N walked in. Chris’s jaw dropped at the sight of Y/N’s gorgeous, but fancy, outfit. Chris, not so subtly, checked Y/N out, his eyes scanning from the gorgeous heels, all the way up to her gorgeous makeup. “Do I look good?” She asked quietly, clutching her purse in her hands in front of her stomach. “You look amazing.. but I thought you didn’t like fancy dates?” He replied, Y/N’s face softened ever so slightly at the fact the boy remembered. “Yeah.. but he really wanted to take me to this fancy restaurant.” She mumbled awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders. “Oh, alright.” Chris shifted to sit at the edge of the bed, all he could think about was the dates he’d take Y/N on, dates that she would enjoy just as much as he did.

Y/N smiled gently and walked over, opening her arms for a hug. “I’m about to leave, so..” “He’s not picking you up?” Chris said as he stood and wrapped his arms around her waist, unable to hide the annoyed tone in his voice; this guy did not know how to treat a girl, Y/N deserved better, Y/N deserved a guy like him. “No, he said he couldn’t, Matt’s dropping me off.” The girl replied, her arms locking around Chris’s neck as she rested her head on his chest. “Alright.. text me when you get there, yeah? And when you get back home?” He mumbled protectively, pressing a gentle kiss to her head. Y/N blushed slightly at the kiss, pulling away as Matt yelled for her to hurry up. “I will, bye Chris. I’ll see you later, yeah?” A smile graced her lips again, it was even bigger than the one she had when talking about the anonymous boy she had a date with, and Chris took pride in that.

Matt dropped off Y/N at a fancy restaurant, “Text me if you need picking up, alright?” Matt said before she shut the door and walked up to the front of the restaurant, waiting for her date.

After 40 minutes of waiting, Y/N sighs and pulls out her phone to call a Uber to go home, but then her date shows up finally. He stops in front of her, and looks nothing like he claimed to look like. His profile said tall and brunet, the man in front of her was at most 5’3”, and his hair definitely used to be brunet; not so much any more.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” He said, a lustful grin on his cracked lips, “Um.. yeah, are you..” She took a moment to glance at her phone, at the dating profile of the man she thought she was meeting, “Daniel.?” She continued. “Yeah, sorry I don’t look like my pictures, they’re from a while back.” He replied nonchalantly, then grabbed Y/Ns wrist not-so-gently and dragged her into the restaurant, “I can tell..” Y/N muttered under her breath.

As the two sat down, a waiter walked over and took their orders. “I’ll have a steak, and a whiskey sour.” Daniel says, not very politely, to the waiter, and before Y/N could order her meal he speaks up again. “The lady will have a salad, and a glass of red wine.” Y/N raises an eyebrow, “I’m sorry?” She said, absolutely baffled at what was currently happening, “What?” Daniel replied, his voice muffled by the bread he’d already stuffed in his mouth. Y/N stayed silent for a moment, letting out a sigh and standing up. “I’m going to the bathroom.” She spoke bluntly, before walking away.

Once in the bathroom, Y/N opened her bag and took out her phone, immediately ordering an Uber. Once the Uber was confirmed, she put her phone away, fixed up her makeup then walked back out.

Instead of sitting down, she leant over to pick up her bag, then looked at Daniel, who looked confused to say the least. “This isn’t going to work out.” Y/N said, trying to sound as polite as possible. “What? Why?” Daniel snapped, he no longer sounded or looked smug, or lustful, he looked more..aggressive.

Y/N sighed and took a small step back, staying as calm as she could. “I just don’t think it’ll work out, I’m sorry, it was lovely meeting you.” She spoke politely, trying not to make Daniel angrier than he already was. “Well, what about the bill? I’m not paying for it.” He scoffed, “I’ll venmo you.” She said before quickly leaving the restaurant.

After a minute of waiting, the Uber pulled up and Y/N got in, but instead of giving her address she gave the triplets address, and after a quick 10 minute drive of awkward small talk with the Uber driver and trying not to cry over another failed date, the uber finally pulled up at the triplets house.

Y/N POV

I got out of the uber, walking up to the front door and knocking gently. After a few minutes, I could hear voices from inside.

“Who the fuck would be here at this time?” “I don’t know, Nick. How the fuck would I know?” Then the two brothers could be heard arguing, the sound of the door unlocking calmed my nerves ever so slightly. The door opened to reveal Chris, who raised an eyebrow at the sight of me, then his eyes widened as I threw myself into his arms and started sobbing into his chest.

Chris pulled me inside, shutting and locking the door, one of his arms staying firmly around my waist. “Who is it?” I heard Nick yell from the kitchen, “It’s Y/N, and shes upset about some-“ Chris couldn’t even finish his sentence before Nick and Matt had rushed over, Nick pulling me away from Chris, who scowled ever so slightly. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Why are you crying? Was the date that bad? Do I need to beat his ass?” Nick rapid fired questions at me, I wasn’t even listening. “Okay, Nick— Give her some space.” Matt said calmly, gently prying Nicks tight grip away from my shoulders. “Do you want to talk about it, Y/N?” “No.” “Okay, why don’t you go have a shower and calm down, and then we can watch some movies?” Matt pat my shoulder, before I hummed softly and walked away, heading toward Chris’s bathroom.

Chris’s POV

I raised an eyebrow as we watched Y/N walk to my bathroom, usually she went Nick’s, but we didn’t say anything.

“Me and Nick will find a movie and get snacks, Chris you let Y/N borrow some of your clothes for the night.” Matt said before walking towards the TV, then Nick walked back to the kitchen, and I went to my bedroom.

After about 10 minutes, Y/N walked into the room in just a towel, her hair still damp and messy. I didn’t even notice I was staring until she cleared her throat, “Oh, yeah— Sorry, here.” I mumbled awkwardly, eyes now staring at the floor as I handed her one of my Fresh Love hoodies and matching sweatpants. “Thanks.” She said, still staring at me with the clothes in her hands, until I realised she was waiting for me to leave so she could change. I nodded and got up, quickly leaving the room and shutting the door behind me, leaving her in peace to change.

3RD person POV:

Y/N quickly changed into Chris’s matching Fresh Love set, rubbing her eyes gently before walking out the room and back to where the boys were.

Chris looked up first as she entered the room, trying, and failing, to hide a smirk as he saw the girl in his clothes. Matt and Nick looked up after Chris, smiling at their friend as she walked over and sat herself in between Nick and Chris. “What movie are we watching?” Y/N asked, her hand grabbing some popcorn out the bowl on Chris’s lap. “Let it Shine.” Nick replied softly as he pulled Y/Ns head onto his shoulder, rubbing his best friends neck and shoulder comfortingly.

The movie had finished about 10 minutes ago, Nick had gone to bed halfway through, and Y/N was fast asleep with her head on Chris’s lap, her cheek pressed against his thigh. “Shes so pretty,” he says softly, making Matt smile at his lovestruck brother. “When are you gonna tell her?” “I was thinking tomorrow.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.”

Matt stood up, stretching before he grabbed his phone and a bag of chips from the coffee table. “I’m gonna head to bed, you need help carrying her?” He said jokingly, “Nah, I got it.” He said with a smirk, picking Y/N up by her waist and walking to his bedroom after bidding him goodnight.

Chris got to his room and placed Y/Ns sleeping body on his bed, pulling the covers over her before getting ready for bed himself, he paused mid-taking his shirt off at Y/Ns sleepy voice. “Chris?” “Yeah?” “love you.” a blush spread across Chris’s face, he turned to face Y/N, seeing her eyes still closed and he realised she was talking in her sleep. He sighed softly and rubbed her cheek, “love you too, ma.” he whispered before climbing into the bed on the other side, pulling Y/N into his chest as he fell asleep.

The next morning, Chris woke up first. He was completely exhausted, he was in and out of sleep all night because he couldn’t stop overthinking about confessing to Y/N. It was about 11AM, he climbed out of bed slowly, trying his best to not wake the sleeping girl.

He managed to get to his bedroom door before he heard a small groan, turning his head slightly he saw Y/N stirring in her sleep. A soft sigh left his lips as he walked back over, his hand gently rubbing her shoulder. “G’morning, ma.” He said, his voice almost inaudible as he didn’t want to wake her up fully. “Morning..” she managed to reply, her eyes only open ever so slightly. “I need you to wake up for me, I gotta talk to you.” Chris said gently, and Y/N opened her eyes a bit more and sat up, leaning against the headboard. “Mhm?” She hummed softly, now looking curious as well as half asleep.

Chris sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed and fidgeting with his hands in his lap. After a minute of silence, he finally speaks, his voice shaky and nervous. “Y/N..” He took another second before blurting it out, “I like you.” “Yeah, I like you too.” She says with a sleepy smile, “No, Y/N, I like like you.” Y/N went silent, processing what he said. “..are you asking me out?” “I guess, yeah.. yes, I’m asking you to be my girlfriend— or at least go on a date with me.” Y/N stayed silent, a blush spreading across her face as she took a minute to collect her thoughts “Chris, I..”

tags:: @sturnioloshacker @mattslolita @jamiesturniolo @stasiesturn @sturnsbabie

#loudsturniolos #Spotify #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolos #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chrissturniolo #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher owen sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #the sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo texts #sturniolo

[youronlylie]

hello people in my phone

BOONE head cannon list, just a mix of stuff that'll probably change later ( THERE WILL BE MORE ) 1/?

• He undoubtedly was ripped/heavily worked out being in the ncr, after moving to novac and loosing his wife he undoubtedly lost a lot of muscle but...guys he still is literally like beefed.

• He cannot fucking cook for shit, he understands what shouldn't be put in your body but from there he has no clue.

• Going off of cooking, he has strict times where he eats, like routine from the ncr.

• For some reason he strikes me as a guy who really enjoys fruit whenever he can get his hands on it.

• Cannot tolerate any sort of spice.

• Smells very mettalic, sweaty, like man must.

• Has a soft spot for cats.

• 1000% is not bald, just shaves his head as he probably prefers the look.

• I feel like with a romantic partner, since he isn't one much for talking his love language would be physical touch or gift giving, I could imagine him seeing stuff he knows they'd like and saving it for later, excited to see how they'd react.

• He would definitely have a special place in his heart for fantasy movies, he doesn't seem to be able to express himself well and I feel like the creativity of something like lord of the rings would get him going.

• I seriously cannot pick so I'll include both, he is either an extreme cuddler with a romantic partner or on very rare occasions, he's just terrible at expressing emotion.

• If the courier and him are something like romantic partners he'd definitely never be able to sleep, often awake staring and listening for noises, waiting for the next cascade of legionares but it never happens and he eventually learns that.

• I don't think he'd ever get married again unless it'd be over 20 or so years in the future, it's a type of commitment that I don't think he could mentally handle whatsoever unless he is totally over Carla.

• I definitely do think boone could find love again in another person, he's scared and alone, fearful for any sort of attachment.

• 10000% has really really nice man hands, like large hands with nice fingers.

• Is definitely tall but not close to arcade tall, 6' ish at MOST, I just feel like looking at his build and concept art that he is definitely a tall man.

• Secretly really has a thing for drawing whenever he can, especially when he was nested at novac, sitting up top the dinosaur scribbling stuff on old receipts or whatever else it helps him get his emotions and thoughts out.

• irl he would be so patriotic it's not even funny, like he'd go all out for fourth of July but is the somber type so he'd cook hot dogs and whatever else then sit in the corner and watch everyone else.

• Has a thing for memorizing features, very very very intuitive and will remember almost anything you tell him.

• He is so the type of guy to enjoy snow, like yeah he'd probably be kinda pissy for a bit but if you pushed his buttons enough I feel like he'd mess around with the courier.

• He absolutely like no doubt has nightmares, like the ones where you erupt in cold sweat and your throat is sore.

• If he does sleep like ever, along with nightmares he grips the sheets, rolls around a whole lot, mumbles. In the ncr he was the total opposite, stone faced, layed straight and slept some what peacefully until later on in his ncr years.

• Yearns for someone, even platonic, to just sit beside him, no words and scratch his back and kinda just touch him lightly. I don't think he'd cry but it's something I could imagine would bring him close to tears.

• He absolutely probably finds almost everyone annoying, like, he just is done with everything and doesn't give two shits about what anyone has to say unless the courier puts some sense into him.

• Really disagrees with gambling, just doesn't like it.

• Wishes he had a nice farm house, out somewhere away from everything, where it has everything he needs and could be away from absolutely everyone. ( of course after extracting revenge on the legion )

• He wants to learn how to play guitar, either he has tried and is horrible or has just never gotten the chance, I have a feeling he'd really be into (irl) like classic rock or something smooth.

• Cannot look at people with features his wife had the same, down to personality or looks.

• Absolutely dreads deep down without realizing going back to novac when the courier disbands him.

• He would like having books read to him, he's a listener not a reader, likes hearing people's voices just not his own.

• At a point probably had a nickname for his rifle, something like Beth or something that was a joke between him and Manny.

• Manny 1000% at a point tried hinting to boone or even confessing his love for him, either the point never got across or they got over it together. ( somewhat ish at a point )

• In all reality I play him out to be a really sweet guy, which I can imagine and he can somewhat tend to be but he ultimately really doesn't care, he'll kill in order to get what he wants ( so be it revenge or whatever else ) even if he isn't necessarily fond of it.

• At a point, consumed by guilt he forgets what Carla looks like and that eats him up inside, like the teeth gritting soul crushing ache for revenge, and a year or two leads him to completely forget her complexion.

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #craig boone #arcade gannon #new vegas #boone #vulpes inculta #headcanon #benny fallout #veronica fnv #rex fnv #fallout 3 #fallout 1 #fallout 4 #fallout show #fallout shitpost #shitpost #ncr #new california republic #writers on tumblr #writing #writblr

[seungkw1]

sketchbook — xmh

♡ pairing: xu minghao x gn!reader ♡ theme: best friends to lovers, college au, fluff ♡ wc: 3.1k ♡ warnings: none

“why did i sign up for this stupid class?”

you mumbled it under your breath, but your best friend still heard it from across the room. he looks up from the book he’s reading, a concerned frown on his face.

“what’s wrong with the class?” he closes his book, his eyes resting on yours.

“the class is fine it’s just… i’m just bad at it.”

“i highly doubt that.” he gets up, joining you at your kitchen table currently cluttered with textbooks, homework, and various drawing materials. he reaches for your sketchpad. “let me see.”

“nuh-uh,” you say, closing the book. he grabs it from you anyway.

“minghao! come on,” you shout at him. he ignores you, flipping through the pages.

“most of those are shitty reject drawings that i started and gave up on, nobody needs to see those.”

he continues perusing through the book quickly, but pauses at a particular page. you take the chance and reach for the sketchpad again, grabbing hold of it.

“wait! i like this one.”

you glance at the drawing he’s looking at. it’s the side profile of a classmate, drawn as a warm-up exercise.

“what? that was just a warm-up sketch, and it’s not even good. it looks nothing like the girl i was drawing.”

minghao looks up at you. “that doesn’t mean it’s bad. art isn’t necessarily about drawing things exactly the way they look, it’s about your interpretation of the subject. that’s like the whole point.”

“i wasn’t interpreting anything here, i was literally just trying to draw her face.”

“but look,” he says, turning the book so you can see it. “look at the way she’s looking into the distance. she looks sad, but in a nostalgic way.”

you stare at the sketch. “i don’t see it.”

“but that’s part of it too - art isn’t always about knowing the exact meaning of the piece, it’s also open to interpretation on the viewer’s perspective. and i like the way you portrayed her emotion.” 

you narrow your eyes at him. “you’re just making that up to make me feel better.”

“i’m not! i promise. i really like your art style, y/n.”

you want to roll your eyes at him, but he looks too sincere. “okay but how can i have an art style if i literally started drawing two weeks ago at the start of the semester? i don’t even know what i’m doing.”

“look at all your drawings though,” he flips the pages one at a time. “you press really hard when you draw, so it gives everything a very bold, sharp look. and combined with the way you shade, it gives it a dramatic edge.”

you look at your sketches again. they’re still unsightly in your eyes, but you do kind of see what he means.

“well, that’s good to know i guess. but it’s still hard,” you mope. “i thought this would be an easy elective to get an A in but now i’m worried.”

“it’s an intro class - i’m sure the professor isn’t expecting you to be picasso on day one. just keep practicing and you’ll be perfectly fine.”

one of the many things you love about minghao: he always knows how to make you feel reassured. 

“you’re probably right,” you reply. “i don’t know what i should draw for practice, though.”

“well, what do you want to improve the most?”

you think for a second. “our next project is a life drawing, but drawing people is so hard. so maybe that but what am i supposed to do, just draw random people?”

“sure, why not?”

“because that’s weird!”

“okay, well it doesn’t have to be a random person. here, try drawing me.”

“you?? right now?”

“yeah.”

you open your mouth to protest, but you pause, realizing it might not be a bad idea. 

you shrug as you reach for your pencils. “okay, i guess. you can't get mad when it turns out terrible though.”

minghao smiles softly. he situates himself in the chair, focusing his gaze off in the distance. you pick up your sketchbook, holding it at a comfortable angle as you hold your pencil above the page. you think for a minute - you never know where to start when you have to draw a face. you glance back up at minghao, skimming across his features - naturally, you land on his eyes. you always forget how pretty they are: dark brown, soft, calm - giving him a permanent aura of being deep in thought. 

you look back down at the blank page, it's emptiness seemingly taunting you. with a sigh you touch the dulled lead tip to the paper, making your first stroke -  the curvature of minghao’s eyelid appearing on the page. you peep back up at your subject. to your surprise, your shape isn't too far off from reality. you continue, sketching his lower eyelid, his iris, his long dark eyelashes. you erase your marks a few times when they don't look quite right, but before long the image of an eye that looks mostly like minghao’s has formed. 

you move to his nose, drawing the line of its sharp bridge, sketching a circle to render its round, button-shaped end - bringing the shape of his face to life. you peer up at his face, your pencil continuing its strokes, but you pause as you arrive at his lips. they are soft, plump, perfectly formed, highly kissable. you sketch the delicate curves, emphasizing their pillowy nature. you find yourself absentmindedly in a trance when you realize you’ve been staring at him for too long - you’ve already finished drawing his mouth. you feel your cheeks turn warm, praying he can’t see you getting flustered out of the corner of his eye. 

you move on, sketching his soft but strong jawline, his ears - adorned with his usual jewelry, adding quick wispy lines to form the shape of his long hair. before long the essence of minghao has materialized in your notebook.

as you finish, you hold your sketchpad up to compare your drawing to your subject. you don’t love it, and it’s nowhere near perfect. but it is decidedly good enough.

“okay, i’m done, i guess.” you set the notebook down, hesitantly sliding it across the table toward minghao. he picks it up, turning it to face him as he looks at it for the first time. the edges of his mouth twitch upward into a subtle smile, but he doesn’t say anything.

“you hate it.”

minghao looks up at you. “what? no, i love it.” he looks back at the paper with a pleased grin. “i’m telling you, you’re really good at portraying emotion.”

“and what emotion exactly did i portray?”

he shows you your drawing. “i look wistful - like i’m caught in a daydream of unrequieted love.”

you feel your stomach do a flip, but you play it cool, crossing your arms and rolling your eyes at him. “well, i didn’t do that on purpose. but i’m glad you like it.” you extend your hand to take back the notebook, but he turns it toward him again, taking another look. 

“can i keep it?” he looks up at you, his striking brown eyes making contact with yours. you stifle a gulp as you reply.

“um… sure, i guess so. if you really want it.”

he gives you a soft smile, pleased at your response. “i really do.” he carefully tears the page along the perforation, separating it from its spiral binding. he closes the sketchbook and hands it back to you. you return it to its place in your backpack.

“well, thanks for letting me practice on you, i appreciate it.”

“of course. if you need any more practice let me know - since i see you most days anyway.”

“you’re the best.”

“i know,” he replies smugly. you pick up your eraser and lob it at him. he manages to catch it with one hand, giving you a sly look as you jump out of your chair, running from him before he can throw it back. he follows you, chasing you around your apartment - you shout at him, feigning anger, but your laughter gives you away. 

another thing you love about minghao: being with him is always so easy.

—

you didn’t mean to make drawing minghao a regular occurrence. but on one particularly crisp fall day, you find yourself absentmindedly sketching his features as you eat lunch together in the park. he’s reading for his literature class, and you’re supposed to be studying for your sociology course, but you keep zoning out. it’s not your fault that the text is dull, and that the cherub-like rosiness coloring his cheeks makes him look more ethereal than usual. renaissance paintings of angels have nothing on how beautiful he looks right now, you think to yourself. 

you also definitely didn’t mean to start falling for your best friend, but here you are.

delicate pencil strokes paint the wisps of his bangs falling over his eyes as he is studiously engrossed in his book, his long eyelashes peeking through the curtain of hair. you focus on perfecting the shape of his face - glancing up to compare your rendering to your subject - when you notice him looking back at you.

“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely curious.

you’re about to shut your notebook in a panic, when you realize that would only look more suspicious. 

“nothing, just…”

he reaches for your notebook, his fingers brushing over the top of the page as he tilts it down so he can see. he lets out a soft chuckle.

“practicing again, i see,” he says, casually, but clearly teasing you a little. “i thought you were supposed to be studying for your sociology exam.”

“i am,” you insist. he raises his eyebrow at you. “i was just taking a break,” you add. the look on his face tells you he’s not convinced, but he doesn’t press you further.

“it looks good, i can tell you’re getting better at drawing from a reference.”

“i guess it is getting a little easier,” you admit. 

minghao smiles. “good,” he affirms, before going back to his text without another word. 

you find yourself gazing dreamily at the man before you, lost in aimless thoughts, imagining the feel of his hair tangled around your fingers, his skin softly pressed against your cheeks, his lips brushing against yours. eventually he notices, peeking up at you through his bangs. you swiftly return to your drawing, only to realize you've already finished. his portrait looks slightly cartoonish, and nowhere nearly as beautiful as the real thing, but you decide it's not half bad. 

you half-heartedly resume your studies, sneaking glances at minghao here and there. every glimpse makes your heart flutter - you feel like an idiot, you're in college for christ's sake, and here you are having an entire crush on your closest friend. 

just tell him how you feel, part of your mind tries to convince you. 

but what if it ruins our friendship? another part of you worries. 

you realize you're staring at him again when he looks up from his book, his gaze meeting yours. 

“hmm? what is it?” he asks you calmly. 

“i…” 

you hesitate. his eyes rest on your face attentively.

you let out a small sigh. “i’m getting cold. can we go inside?”

he smiles softly, marking his page as he closes his book. “of course.”

minghao walks you to your next class, which is conveniently located in the building next to his next class. 

“well, see ya later,” you tell him as you turn to enter the building. 

“y/n…”

you freeze as he grabs your arm. you turn back around, looking at him expectantly. he lifts his hand up to your head, tenderly reaching for your hair. you realize you're holding your breath. you exhale as his fingers graze your scalp softly, plucking something off of your head. 

he holds a small yellow piece up to you. “you had a leaf in your hair.” 

your panicking ceases, leaving you a bit disappointed, but you can't help but smile at him.

“thanks, minghao. what would i do without you?”

“walk around with leaves in your hair all day, probably.”

you playfully give him a light shove. he reaches for the door, opening it for you as you head off to class. 

“i'm coming over tonight, if that's alright,” he says as you step through the doorway. 

“of course,” you say, turning over your shoulder to face him. “though, i should probably start charging you rent as much as you're at my place.”

he smiles back at you. “see you later, y/n.”

he disappears as the door shuts quickly. you spend the rest of the afternoon in a daydream, impatiently counting the hours until you see him again. 

—

“how’s the studying going?” minghao asks from the other end of the couch. he sets his book down, pausing so he can take his hoodie off. his plain black t-shirt rises up as he does, revealing his entire midriff. you try not to gawk too hard. he stares at you as he tosses the hoodie aside - you realize he is awaiting your response. 

you look down at your notebook, where you’ve once again been sketching his face. “um… pretty good,” you lie. “are you hungry?” you ask, changing the subject.

“starving, actually,” he admits.

“well, i can offer you ramen, or… actually, that’s about it.”

he grins at you. “ramen sounds great. want me to make some-”

“nope,” you respond as you flip your notebook over, setting it face down on the seat next to you. “i got it.” you rise and head to the kitchen. 

you cook the noodles, serving them into two bowls and carrying them back to the living room. you set the bowls on the coffee table, reaching over to set one in front of minghao - but you feel your leg bump against something. you look down to see your notebook fall to the floor - landing right side up. before you can grab it, minghao has already picked it up for you. he goes to hand it back to you, but pauses as he sees your sketches. you go to swipe it out of his hands, but miss as he pulls back, looking at his own face doodled on your pages.

“you were drawing me again.” it wasn’t a question.

you try to quickly think of some excuse, anything, to get you out of this one, but your mind comes up blank. you decide to try and play it off.

“yes,” you reply with feigned confidence as you sit down next to him. he looks up at you, then back down to the paper. you stare at him, waiting for him to say something else, but he says nothing.

“i like to practice whenever i can,” you add with a shrug.

he flips through your notebook. “whenever you can, or whenever you’re with me?”

“um… i-”

“because these all sure look like me, y/n.”

“so?” you ask him. you meant for your tone to be casual, but it came out a bit more defensive than intended.

his eyes meet yours again. he looks at you warmly, but you can’t tell what he’s thinking. your heart beats rapidly in your chest. 

“so,” he answers as he sets the notebook aside. “i'm wondering, if…” he scoots closer to you, lifting his hand to your face, gently brushing your cheek with his thumb. your skin feels like it's on fire. his fingers tucked under your chin delicately, he draws your face in toward his. you gasp softly. 

“if you feel the same way about me, as i feel about you.”

your heart is racing. you feel dizzy. he's so close to you, a few more inches and your noses would touch. his plump lips wait enticingly. 

“and how do you feel about me?” you manage to ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. his deep brown eyes stare longingly into yours. you’re pretty sure you know the answer, you hope you know the answer, but you need him to confirm it. 

suddenly, he kisses you. 

he kisses you, setting alight fireworks inside you. his soft lips touch against yours ever so gently, his nose pressing against your cheek, his hand holding your face tenderly in his palm, then sliding to the back of your neck, drawing you closer still into him. your chest presses against his, his other arm wrapping around your waist, his large hand settling upon the small of your back. you kiss him back, your lips locked onto his like your life depends on it. you've thought of this, dreamt of this, so many times before, all the years you've known minghao - yet you never could have imagined how thrilling, exhilarating, freeing it would be to finally be here, in his arms, world stopped, nothing matters except you and him, so lovingly embraced - together. 

electricity pulsates through your skin, every nerve in your body dancing. slowly, minghao’s lips part from yours. you lock eyes with him - in all the time you've known him, he's always been a sentimental person, but you've never seen such love and adoration beaming from him like you see now. 

and it's all for you. 

a giggle escapes you. minghao looks at you, a wide grin spreading across his face. you run your hands through his hair, a sensation you've waited so long to experience - it's every bit as delightful as you imagined. 

“hao…” you start.

he plants another kiss on your lips. “hmm?” he asks, still glowing at you. 

“how long have you felt this way?” you ask softly. 

“i've had feelings for you since the day we met, and i've loved you more every day since.” 

you boop your nose against his, giving him a fake stern look. 

“and why didn't you tell me?”

he feigns a pouty face back at you. “why didn't you tell me?”

you blow a tiny raspberry at him. he smiles, pulling you into him, wrapping his arms around you tightly as he kisses your cheek repeatedly. you laugh, held in his warm embrace, overflowing with emotions. 

finally, you can admit it: you're in love with your best friend - and he just so happens to love you back. 

#ren's fics ੈ♡₊˚•. #xu minghao #minghao fics #minghao fluff #minghao scenarios #minghao imagines #the8 #the8 fics #the8 fluff #the8 scenarios #the8 imagines #svt fics #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen fics #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #minghao x reader #the8 x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader

[johnwickb1tsch]

break me, softly

When your ex Jack Traven pays you a late night visit after a tough case, you can’t turn him away. Jack Traven x Fem!Reader ficlet

warnings: smut. angst. brief mention of hostage situation/death. slight inebriation. fluff. ❤❤❤

For @treedaddymcpuffpuff who whispered in my ear "hey you should watch Speed" and sent me down this rabbit hole (i luv u girl, you're our Keanuverse Guide & Tastemaker!) 😘😘😘 and @scarlettspectra who requested some fluff fic 😘😘😘.

It’s late at night, when you hear the soft knock on your apartment door.  Usually, you wouldn’t dream of answering such a thing–a woman living alone, in this city? You’re not looking to get murdered. But something, some feeling from deep in your gut, pulls you out of bed. You walk on bare feet in just your nightie and look through the peephole. Nothing. 

You know it’s probably a bad idea, but that uneasiness nags at you still. Not that you’re in danger. That someone needs you. You have a sense about that, after so many years as a nurse. Or maybe, you just always have. 

You undo the deadbolts and stick your head out, to see the tall figure of a man retreating down the hall. 

You would know that backside anywhere. Those broad shoulders, that trim waist, those long legs…and by the way he’s walking, you can tell he’s a little drunk. 

“Jack?”

He freezes in his tracks, clearly debating with himself. Probably wondering what the fuck he’s doing here, and if you’ll tell him to go to hell, after the way he pushed you away three months ago after dating for two whole years.

He turns to face you slowly. You can say a lot of things about Officer Jack Traven–but never that he’s a coward. 

“Hey, y/n.” 

It’s the first time you’ve seen him, since the day he shattered your world when he broke things off with you. It feels about precisely like being punched in the gut. He’s still so handsome it hurts; those soulful dark eyes, cheekbones to make a fashion model weep, a manly-man’s jawline softened by such a full, sweet mouth. Immediately, upon looking at that face you still love so well, you know something is wrong. 

“Are you ok?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then closes it. Takes a deep breath, tries again. Nothing. It’s as good as a five page report, to you. To you, who knows his every gesture, his every tell. For all it’s worth, now. 

You already knew, in the back of your mind, that you were still in love with this man. It was like a fine buzzing in your heart you’d managed to push into the background of your day to day. But seeing him again makes it all surge up with a vengeance. You know that being near him again will be like feeding your heart through a paper shredder–slowly. You also know that something terrible must have happened at his work, for him to show up here like this, and so you open the door wider, laying your heart on the sacrificial altar, the way you always do.

“Come on,” you say gently, waving him in. “I’ll take care of you.”

He gives so much of himself, always trying to help everyone else in this big, mean, city. You know he forgets to leave a little fuel in the tank for himself. It’s maybe something the two of you have in common. 

You watch as he fights a war within himself, teetering on the balls of his feet, undecided between staying or leaving. In the end, he takes a step towards you, then another. You try not to read too much into that. He’s just here because he’s drunk and feeling vulnerable. It doesn’t really have anything to do with you. 

You’re not really sure how this will go. Probably he’ll just come sit on your couch with a beer–you still have his favorite in the fridge–and talk a little. Not about what’s actually bothering him. No, heaven forbid. But circular small talk, to get his mind off the bad thing. It’s something you’ve done a thousand times before.

And yet, when you are standing toe to toe, and he has to crane his neck to look down at you–there’s a dark fire in his eyes, and with a little thrill you feel the urge to flee before his big hands engulf the sides of your face, and his mouth is on yours. 

Oh. That’s what you’re doing.

You can’t say you forgot what it’s like to kiss Jack Traven–but maybe the intensity of the memory had faded a little, if for anything out of pure self defense. How could a woman keep her sanity, if she remembered how good he was, if she knew she’d never taste him again? You stand on tiptoe to throw your arms around his neck as he devours you, and he easily picks you up with an arm around your waist, walking the two of you back into your apartment and slamming the door shut with his booted heel.

This. This had never been a problem for the two of you. Passion. It was everything else that got in the way. Most of all, his dangerous job, which though it wore on you, you had never complained about. But he’d seen the way you worried about him, the way it absolutely chewed on your nerves when there was a situation on the news and you didn’t know if he would be coming home that night. You’d been willing to weather that storm for him, but the guilt of demanding that of you ate at his conscience. 

He’d broken things off with you, in your own hospital, after he’d taken a bullet in the chest and you didn’t leave his side or really even sleep until he came to. I can’t ask you to keep doing this for me. You deserve better. 

You’d protested, of course, but he’d made up his mind. 

Until now, apparently, where he is walking you backwards towards your bedroom, half carrying you in the ardor of his embrace. You recognize this need for life-affirming intimacy. You’d gotten to know it well, over the years, and you surrender to the storm, letting him take what he needs. Letting him fist the fabric of your cotton nightie in his big hands, drawing it up over your head before falling on you again, pushing your panties down the curves of your bottom and your thighs. 

You always marveled that despite his strength and the things he knows how to do with those hands, he never ever hurt you, not even when he was like this, desperate for your softness, frantic to lose himself inside the momentary bliss your body could bring. He barely has the patience to let you pull off his white t-shirt, or to enjoy the swathes of toned flesh beneath. His belt is flung forgotten to the floor from the moment you pull it from its loops and he picks you up by your thighs, walking you the rest of the way to the bed. Boots are kicked away as his mouth is attached to yours, pants and boxers shed with a sharp push. 

You might have been embarrassed, by how ready you are for him, how sopping fucking wet you were for him from the moment you saw him,  if you could have formed a coherent thought as his thick tip kisses your entrance, before he absolutely plunges himself inside you. The delicious shock of it steals the breath from you, your soul escaping with a moan, only to be reclaimed with his mouth on yours. He takes you like the ocean, relentless and rolling, filling you with every thrust. It’s gratifying, the animalistic sounds of abandon he makes as he fucks you. If you didn’t know any better–you might have swore you were making love, despite his hedonistic frenzy.  

The same way you knew something was wrong in the first second of seeing him in the hallway, you know he’s close to finishing already, his breathing frantic in the bend of your neck, his grip just this side of bruising. He seems to remember that he’s done very little to see to your pleasure, amidst the haze of chasing his own gratification. He sits up on trembling elbows, making to reach between you. “Fuck. I’m sorry, baby. You feel so good.” Maybe it’s ridiculous, that it brings tears to your eyes to hear the endearment. You find you don’t even want to cum, as much as you just want to make this haunted man feel better. 

“It’s ok,” you pant in answer, catching his hand to place it on your breast. “Cum for me, Jack. I know you need it.” 

He buries his face in the bend of your neck; you’re not sure if the sound he makes is a moan or a sob, as he thrusts as deep as he can inside you, bathing your cervix with the hot flood of his seed. He continues to hold on to you as though you are the last sane thing on this earth, and you let him, your legs still wrapped around his narrow hips, your hands smoothing across the muscles of his broad shoulders. 

Only much, much later, does it seem to dawn on him what he’s done–and maybe just who he did it with. He draws back to look at you with concern written in those big brown puppy eyes, smoothing your hair away from your face. You can’t help but close your own lids; jesus, how you missed his touch. You feel utterly breakable in that moment, but he’s the one who needs healing right now, so you get your shit together, gather it all back up tight and shove it down in your lockbox of a heart. 

Before he can apologize or say something stupid, you pull him down to rest on your breast, the way you’ve done a hundred times before. Surely the muscle memory of it is as comforting for him as the act in the moment itself. “It’s ok, Jack. Just rest. I’ve got you.” 

He sags against you, curling that powerful body around yours–and falls asleep. 

You were right, of course. Your heart feels exactly like it’s been fed through a grinder, as you hold this beautiful manchild in your arms, your thighs deliciously sticky with his cum. A part of you hopes that he’ll just sneak out in the morning without waking you. It would almost hurt less, than any excuse he’ll have to offer you, when the sun comes streaming through your window. 

***

But when next you wake, it’s not to the sun, or the shift of weight on the mattress while a large man tries to slip out without a sound. It’s to wet kisses upon your neck, and an agonizingly gentle touch sliding down your torso, tracing the ladder of your ribcage and the swell of your belly, before making his way up again. 

“You know,” he says softly against your cheek, “you really shouldn’t open the door to anyone in the middle of the night.” 

You wonder if he can see you rolling your eyes in the dark. But then his lips touch yours, and the urge to argue with him for argument’s sake dissipates into thin air. Instead you opt for honesty, the spell of intimacy not yet broken in the shadows of what must be early early morning. 

“I think…I knew it was you.” 

He lets out a shuddering sigh, kissing your jaw, then lower. 

“Baby…” It feels so good, to hear him say it like that against your skin. You can almost forget it isn’t true anymore. You’re not his baby. You’re not his anything, even though he’s here in your bed, and his big hand is sliding down your belly again, his fingers combing through your curls. “Let me touch you?”

You really should say no. 

“You don’t have to.” 

He ducks to suck the soft skin of your breast lightly, then kisses it to soothe the burn. That luscious mouth…god it curls your toes. “I want to. I promise you.”

There’s so much you want to ask him. Things like why? And I thought you didn’t love me anymore? You’ve since reasoned that it’s the only way he could truly bear to break things off, the way he did. You certainly hadn’t had the strength to give him up, no matter what the stress of his occupation wreaked on you. 

You don’t have the strength to say no. You do manage not to beg, like the needy little thing you are, with his big body curled over yours. You’ve always felt like nothing could touch you, with him by your side. As it turned out the only thing that could hurt you all along, was him. 

You nod your assent before catching his mouth, sliding your tongue against his as his thick fingers explore your puffy slit, still wet from both of your juices. He makes a sound in the back of his throat that lifts every hair on your body, a delicious shudder running through your spine. His strong fingers circle your aching clit, just the way he knows drives you wild. Not too hard, not too soft. Fuck, this man has your number still.  

You haven’t been with anyone, since the last time you were with him, despite your well-meaning girlfriends dragging you out to bars and trying to get you to forget this man who left your heart shredded like bomb shrapnel. Because deep down, you knew, you just knew this man ruined you, utterly fucking ruined you for anyone else. Who the fuck could compare? Not some asshole hoping for a one night stand down at TJ’s, that was for sure. 

You realize you have tears running down your cheeks, you don’t know how it’s possible for it to be so good and hurt so much all at the same time. 

Unfortunately when he moves to kiss your cheek, he notices. “Hey, hey,” he says, his hand stilling between your legs, making your hips writhe with frustration. “You ok?”

“No,” you answer honestly, reaching for him. He has you cradled in those big arms, and  you can feel his manhood so firm and silky smooth against your hip. You are not ok, without him inside you right now. “Will you make love to me again?” 

He pays you a ghost of that usual blinding smile, a thing a woman would sell her soul for, and it just breaks your heart all over again. 

He never really answers you with words. The two of you move with pure magnetism, your leg hooking over his hip, pulling him close, inviting him inside. Without a condom, again, you think as he settles between your thighs, sinking inside you so smoothly. Maybe not smart, even though you're on birth control, but it’s the way you’re meant to be together, raw and no barriers between you. As usual, he fucks you and makes love to you all at the same time, looking into your soul while he does it, and it’s the best thing you’ve ever known. This time you cum together, and maybe it’s a little pathetic, the way you cling to each other in the darkness of your bedroom, like you really can stave off the misery of the outside world with this bit of human intimacy, your bodies inextricably entwined. 

You fall asleep together, this time with your head on his chest, and as you drift you decide you’ll wake up and make him breakfast, and you won’t ask him any painful questions about what this means or if he wants you back, or if this is just a comfort fuck and you won’t see him again until the weight of the world gets too much–or maybe never, because this man is bound to find someone to settle down with. Someone he can’t bring himself to let go, the way he did you. 

So you are so surprised, when you wake up, and you smell eggs and bacon and something sweet cooking. You stumble into the kitchen to find him in his blue plaid boxers, flipping a pancake, singing under his breath to R.E.M. on the radio playing low. He’s so beautiful it hurts, and it’s like your heart is gripped in an unforgiving fist. 

He turns to see you in the doorway and offers you a smile. It’s still not quite the usual 100 watt Jack Traven special–he’s not feeling well enough for that. This man hides nothing, he’s so true, he wears it all on his sleeve for you. You love that so much about him, and it hurts like a knife between the ribs. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

“Hungry?” 

“Yeah.” 

You shouldn’t feel so shy about walking into your own kitchen. 

But you aren’t sure where you stand. Do you kiss him, hug him, the way you want to, the way you used to? Or are you operating under one-night-stand-protocol? Play it cool, act like you barely even like the guy? It’s so fucked up, and you never wanted to be in this position again. 

Sensing your hesitance, he crosses the floor to you, engulfing the side of your face in his big hand as he kisses you good morning, like nothing ever changed. “Hey,” he says again, his forehead pressed to yours. 

“Jack.” 

“Yeah, baby.” 

You told yourself you weren’t going to ask painful questions. Remember? Remember that? So you just sigh, and close your eyes, and absorb this moment for what it is. “Do you feel better?” you ask. Another important question. 

“Yes and no.” 

You sigh again through your nose. The corners of his mouth twitch, because he knows you so well, and that one little gesture conveys a novel to him too. 

“Thank you,” he says, for last night, and whatever else, you don’t really know.

“Any time.” You mean it, when you say it. 

“Yeah?” There is a hint of his usual sparkle in his eyes as he asks this. And a part of you wants to pick a fight, to say I’m not the one who left. But maybe you have grown up a little, because you bite your tongue for now. 

“Yeah.” You reach up to touch his hair, the soft spikes of his buzzcut like velvet beneath your fingers. You know he would have beautiful hair if he grew it out. You’d seen his high-school pictures. He had the potential for hair to make a grown woman weep. 

Later, with your mouth full of pancake, you ask gently, “Do you want to talk about it?”

He flexes his jaw, looking out the window. He always bottled things up, before. He didn’t want to burden you with the hard things he saw at work. You didn’t want him to carry it alone. Usually you had to pry it out of him, because of course he refused to see the shrink at work. 

You realize you are gobsmack surprised when he actually volunteers, “We had a hostage situation. A woman…died. The bank robber shot her. It was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. It was the criminal’s fault. He brought a gun to a bank with the intention to steal money by any means necessary. You did your best.”

Once upon a time, he would have argued with you on that too. His jaw clenches as he thinks about it, argues with you in his mind, at least. 

But this time in the end, he closes his eyes, nods. Reaches for your hand across the table. You take it, holding on to him. Those warm, strong fingers wrapped around yours feel like home, and you try not to start crying because you’ve missed him so much. 

“Y/n…?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. For pushing you away.”

Once upon a time, you would have said something inane, like that’s ok. You’ve grown as a person too, and this time, you nod, because he does owe you an apology. “Thanks for that.” 

“I know…I don’t deserve it. But maybe…if you’d let me…I could make it up to you?”

You close your eyes at hearing that, light headed. You might have fallen out of your chair, if not for his hand anchoring you. 

“I would like that,” you admit, giving yourself points for not sounding too pathetic, and crawling across the table through the breakfast dishes to sit in his lap. 

Then, he does flash you the 1000 watt Jack Traven smile, and the circuits in your brain melt. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you big idiot.” You’re really not sure if he pulls you, or if you get up and walk, but you find yourself in his lap with your lips on his, his strong arms wrapped around you and his lips on yours. He rocks you like a child, smiling against your mouth between stealing kisses.  

“I love you.”

You feel as though the desert of your heart has suddenly undergone a superbloom, the ferocity of your love making you lightheaded.

“Jack…”

“Yeah?” He really is smiling now, in between kissing you, cute little snatches of sweetness all over your face. With hands on his cheeks you catch his lips, smiling against his mouth after a long smooch. 

“I love you too. But if you ever break up with me for any reason other than you don’t love me anymore, I might maim you.”

This wins you that radiant smile that curls your toes again. “So much for the Florence Nightingale oath.”

“Leave her out of it, this is between you and me.” He chuckles, and squeezes you again in his big arms.

“Alright. Consider me warned.”

“Good.”

His big hand runs up your thigh, that dark sparkle in his eyes that never fails to take your breath away. “I feel like I should start that making up I have to do here.” Suddenly you find yourself seated on your kitchen table, Jack smiling up at you from between your legs. He reaches for the syrup, and you can’t help but throw your head back with laughter, certain he’s teasing you. “You are going to make such a mess!”

“Honey, you’re the one going to be making the mess.” He has the nerve to smirk up at you before stealing your panties, and smearing syrup up your thighs.

#jack traven #jack traven x you #jack traven x y/n #jack traven x reader #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #speed #keanuverse #speed 1994

[half-oz-eddie]

Abuse, violence tw

Steve was in his living room enjoying a quiet, uneventful night.

Yes, uneventful. His favorite sort of night, these days. Exactly 3 months ago, the nightmare which was the Mind Flayer had plagued the city, taking dozens of people's lives along with it.

Steve still had a terrible ringing in his ears, neglecting the probably needed medical attention as usual.

As he enjoyed some nightly news and KFC, he heard a thump coming from upstairs.

He was home alone, as he was most nights.

Steve turned down the TV, startled when he'd heard the thumping again.

He didn't know what to expect. In a town like Hawkins, a town with monsters and alternate dimensions, that sound could be anything.

Steve grabbed one of his dad's golf clubs and slowly ascended the steps. He heard the sound of his window slowly sliding shut as he reached the top of the steps.

He crept to his room and swung the door open, gasping at the sight, nearly swinging his golf club.

"Wait wait wait!" A familiar voice exclaimed in the darkness.

Steve slowly lowered the club. "...Hargrove?" He shook his head. "No way, we watched you die."

"I didn't die. I woke up in the morgue and some...guys and a lady in suits came right away and—and they sedated me and brought me to some lab to...study me. They kept running all these tests on me and shocking me until I would flatline."

"So...what you can't die?"

"I dunno, maybe I can. But I don't wanna die."

"I just..." Steve shook his head in disbelief. "I don't get it. I-I watched you...take a tentacle through the chest. How are you alive?"

"Because whatever that...dark shadow thing did to me...it changed my body. My...organs can like...regenerate."

"That's...uh...that's...pretty cool."

"I dunno, whatever, I guess. Look, I'm sorry about before. About everything. The fight, being an asshole, trying to kill everyone—"

"The last part wasn't your fault, but I'll forgive you for everything else." Steve finally disarmed himself and set the golf club on his bed.

"So, uh..."

There was a loud urgent banging on the door. They looked at one another with wide eyes.

"Do they have a tracker on you?"

"I ditched it before I came here."

"Why exactly did you come here?"

"Because no one would expect me to come here."

The banging could be heard once more.

"Please, Harrington. Please don't tell anyone I'm here. I'm begging you."

Steve left his room without another word, descending the steps.

"Alright, alright, I'm comin'!" He shouted before swinging the door open. "Can I help you?"

"Hello again, Mr. Harrington. Do you remember me?"

"Yeah, sure. How can I help you, agents?"

"A...subject escaped from our lab. He may or may not have disguised himself as Billy Hargrove, the young man who was under the influe—"

"I know who he is. So there's some...thing shapeshifting as Billy?"

"That's correct. If you have any information about the subject's whereabouts, we need you to tell us."

"Did you check Max's house?"

"Of course."

If there was anything Steve learned from all this, it was not to trust the government, especially after how they tried to cover up Will's disappearance.

"Well, you're at the wrong place. Billy and I hated each other. There's no way he, or something disguised as him would think I'd even let him in the door."

The agent nodded. "Understandable. But if you do encounter the subject, do not engage." He held out a card. "Call us immediately."

"Yeah, sure thing. G'night." He waited until the agents piled into their cars and drove away before making his way to the steps, stopping mid-step.

What if what they said was true?

He shook the thought away. As if he'd trust those agents.

But, that didn't stop him from wondering about it. What if this shapeshifter knew Billy hated Steve and saw him as an easy mark to kill?

Maybe he was overthinking it.

He returned upstairs, finding Billy cowering beneath his desk.

"You can come out now."

Billy slowly crawled out. "Are they gone?"

"Yep. I told them they came to the wrong place because you'd never come here."

"That's exactly why I'm here. I'm so glad I was able to trust you."

"But can I trust you?"

"Whaddya mean?"

"If you're the real Billy, do you remember what you said to me in the shower at school that one time?"

"When I told you there're plenty of bitches in the sea and I'd be—"

"Sure to leave me some, yeah." Steve chuckled. "You really got under my skin."

"That was kinda the point."

"So uh...what are you gonna do now?"

"Can I stay here?'

Steve's eyes widened. "Here?!"

"Just for tonight. I swear I'll be gone before sunrise."

Steve reached over and flipped his light switch.

"Jesus..." He whispered to himself in disbelief.

In the bedroom lighting, he was able to see the marks that covered Billy's shirtless body, and the oversized collar around his neck. He couldn't understand how he was able to make it to his house in the cold in only a pair of shorts, with that big contraption around his neck.

"What...is that thing?" Steve asked, slowly approaching.

"It's a shock collar. Like they put on fucking animals. I guess they saw me as an animal too."

"Can you take it off?"

"No, it's...screwed on."

"I—stay here. I'll take it off you."

Steve raced to his garage and grabbed the tool kit. He approached Billy with a screwdriver in hand, pitying him as he backed further into the corner.

"It's alright, man. I'm not gonna hurt you. I just wanna get that contraption off of you."

Billy stepped out of the corner, allowing Steve to slowly unscrew the collar, revealing a neck covered in nicks and burns.

"You...want a shower? Maybe some food?"

"Please. I haven't eaten in months."

"What?"

"I've just been sustained with a fucking IV." He showed Steve the bruising from the ripped out IV.

"Go. Use the shower. I'll bring something upstairs for you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead. It's down the hall to the left."

"Thanks."

Steve watched as Billy disappeared down the hall and into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him.

He went back downstairs, grabbed the rest of his food and split it into 2 plates, before deciding maybe Billy should have it all and he can have a bowl of cereal if he got hungry again.

Steve brought the plate upstairs and grabbed some clothes from his dresser, then knocked on the bathroom door.

"It's just me." He called out. "Got some clothes here for you."

Billy turned the shower off and opened the door, gently grasping the clothes.

"Food's in my room when you're ready."

Billy nodded, gently closing the door.

Steve sat at his desk, sighing to himself. He loudly groaned when he heard his phone ringing downstairs.

"How many times am I gonna have to walk up and down these goddamn stairs?" He mumbled to himself.

"Hello?"

"Steve? Dude, did you hear?!" Dustin exclaimed.

"Yeah, I heard."

"Is it really a shapeshifter? Or is it actually Billy?"

"I dunno, Dustin, but I don't think we should talk about this over the phone. Maybe we can meet up tomorrow after school."

"Yeah—okay, yeah! Can you pick me up from school?"

Steve sighed. "Sure thing, buddy."

"Cool, later Steve!"

Steve hung up the phone, sighing to himself before returning upstairs to find Billy wolfing down the food, spilling crumbs all over his bed.

"Oh, sorry...did you want some?"

"No, I uh...I already ate."

Billy proceeded to wolf down his food, and Steve just sat there, with so many questions in his mind.

"That was good. Thanks, pretty boy. Want me to wash my dish—"

"No. It-it's fine. You should probably stay up here. I'll go sleep on the couch—"

"No! I-I mean...I don't wanna put you out. I should—I should sleep on the floor."

"In your condition? I can't let you do that." Steve shook his head in contest.

"I just..." Billy sighed. "I don't want to be alone."

Steve looked into Billy's frightened eyes. "They really hurt you in that lab, huh?"

Billy nodded.

This wasn't the Billy steve once knew, but he wasn't a shapeshifter, or a clone, or whatever bullshit the government agents tried to feed him. This was the real Billy. A scared young guy who had been abused relentlessly.

"I'll stay with you tonight. We can listen to the radio until we fall asleep, yeah?"

"You don't think they'll come back, do you?"

"Those agents? No..." Steve paused. "Probably not."

Billy disappointedly sighed.

"I could...stay awake. If it'll help you sleep easier." Steve suggsted.

"I don't want you to do that either. Let's just...sleep. However much we can."

Billy huddled close to the wall while Steve turned on the radio on low volume then crawled into the bed. He placed a pillow between himself and Billy.

This is so weird. Steve thought as he stared at Billy. He watched the pitiful mess sleep peacefully on the left side of his bed.

When Billy rolled over and draped his arm over Steve's shoulder, he initially thought to move it, but, he chose not to. Instead, he reached over and caressed his cheek, a tender moment shared between Billy and the only person who knew he was still alive.

#this has been sitting in my drafts for 6 months #take it #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ivy.doc #caliscoops.doc

[ape-apocalypse]

There's been a lot of talk about Mae since Kingdom's release and she seems to be the character most people are split on, especially with the ending. After much pondering, here are my own thoughts about her, the alternate ending that almost was, and her path in upcoming movies. Spoilers ahead!

Straight to the point, I liked her character. In a lot of ways, she reminded me of Caesar. Her entire goal is focused on protecting humans no matter the cost to apes, much like what Caesar did to protect apes from humans. She has a no-nonsense determination to complete her mission and she doesn't trust apes, even Noa who she spends the majority of the film with. I watched Kingdom thinking it was odd that there was no real bond between Noa and Mae but I think that was on purpose. Though they both rely on each other to complete their individual missions and they concur that Proximus should not have access to what is in the vault, they don't fully trust each other. I know some people are upset that she brought a gun to her final meeting with Noa. Honestly, I don't blame her because they don't trust each other! 

Freya Allan revealed in a recent interview that the goodbye scene between her and the chimp was originally filmed differently. "In the scene that I shot, Mae was going there to kill him because he scares her. His intelligence scares her. Mae doesn't want to kill him, but she feels she has to... Originally, you actually see her pull the gun on Noa, but his back is turned to her. And so you think, 'Oh my God, is she about to shoot him?' Mae is crying as she's doing it... and then she doesn't. The minute he mentions Raka's name, she puts the gun down. But then in the edit, they wanted it to feel more subtle, and I honestly way prefer what they've done with it. It's so much smarter and really allows you to think more... so it becomes a very emotional goodbye, one with tragic, lingering doom."

I'm really relieved that they changed the ending. If she had actually drawn the gun on Noa, especially when his back was turned, I would have been pissed. But the ending we received, with an almost old school Western stand-off between two opponents, with them actually debating if this town - this planet - is big enough for the both of them, I think it perfectly sets up the tension between humans and apes heading into the next movie. 

Now I do wish they had done something to make her a little more sympathetic to hating the apes. There is the briefest mention that Proximus' apes killed the other humans she was traveling with but it's really glossed over. I wish when she and Noa were making the plan, Mae had mentioned the group again. Maybe that someone she cared about was killed or just how vicious the attack was and she saw terrible things. First, this would have connected Noa and Mae more because of the attack on Eagle Clan and the death of Koro, which Freya Allan confirms: "Proximus' apes killed her camp, similarly to Noa's, which is what's so bizarre about it". Second, it would have made Mae have some personal stake in the downfall of Proximus. This clearly was the intention because Allan says in defense of her character's actions, "She's gone through so much, she's lost all the people she cares about, which was a large part of how I justified everything she did." The backstory was there but a few extra lines would have made her thoughts clear and perhaps gotten more of the audience on her side. Allan elaborates that she even "...created a backstory that her parents had also gone off and tried to do the same mission, but they never came back and presumably died". I'm not sure if they were worried about the already long length of the movie that they felt the need to leave this out but I really wish they had added in even a few lines that would have allowed people to empathize with her.

Regardless of how she was portrayed in this movie, I'm already starting to theorize for the next film (with the hopes that Disney will announce its approval soon!). I think the next movie will have Mae fully on the side of the humans in her base/bunker and whoever they connected with. She completed her mission in Kingdom and there will be a new mission to recover the planet for humans that she'll be part of. She will be fully invested in it but something will change by the end of the film that will make her want peace between apes and humans. Then she'll spend the third film in the trilogy helping Noa to find a way to end bloodshed between the two species. 

There is a little part of me that wouldn't mind a female bad guy, because there hasn't been one in any of these films, even back to the originals. But honestly, I do want to see Mae and Noa reconcile and become friends and partners. Who knows, maybe Dichen Lachman's character Korina (the human in the hazmat suit who comes out to greet Mae at the end, who I adore in the TV show Dollhouse) will be the leader of the humans and the main villain of the next film, satisfying my wish for a female baddie? That would leave Mae free to have a redemption story where she helps Noa and works with him to protect apes from whatever the humans are plotting.

#kingdom of the planet of the apes #planet of the apes #kingdom of the planet of the apes spoilers #kingdom spoilers #freya allan #mae #noa #owen teague #wes ball #proximus caesar #kevin durand #raka #peter macon #kotpota #mine #reboot pota #pota

[5-7-9]

(Disclaimer: i am ignoring every part i found stupid or unnecessary. Also i have a picture limit 😔)

Duke obviously met Batman/Wayne first but I’m skipping that. So he met Alfred secondly, in an uncharacteristic particular way. (As much as I’m confused as to why Alfred, someone who’s against Bruce being Batman would employ child soldiers himself, and I believe in the self motivated movement of children, this is technically canon).

Alfred made a deal with Duke to do vigilantism and he’d help him do it (he also promised to help find his parents but Duke managed it himself). Alfred saved WAR from an Owl assassin with a tank. WAR was very distrusting of being lead by a mysterious man, so they eventually stopped listening after they stopped a school shooting Alfred ordered not to. Eventually Duke reveals he figured out Alfred’s identity, linking back to Duke’s puzzle solving trait. Now the Robins: Dick’s first interaction with Duke is him chastises children wearing his symbol. Dikc, speaking like the truly privileged man he is, acts like WAR is childish for trying to help out. Now, is WAR irresponsible? Yes. Solid advice although ominous. It’s just extremely impersonal to their feelings and lives and motivations.

Since the first interaction Duke ever has with the other Robins, it was Damian that had a very particular dynamic. Damian hated the We Are Robins movement.

If you don’t already know, Damian’s primary characterization is his insistence that he must inherit his honour. One of primary reasons why he takes up the Robin mantle is because he believes it is his right to do so.

Another interesting dynamic was Jason’s and Tim’s reaction to WAR

Notably, Jason Todd was fully on board for WAR on the basis of it’s outside influence from Batman. Understandable considering Jason’s tense relationship from Batman, and his anti-hero status. Tim Dranke on the otherhand, doesn’t have any say to WAR’s existance, as his opinion is interrupted by mentioning Dick’s plot. Or more likely, he doesn’t have an opinion to comment on, which is why he only mentions facts of like the location of where the Robins are.

Again, Jason Todd is extremely supportive of WAR and Damian is not (inbred is a bit much 💀). But Tim Drake still insists on trying to better understand the WAR children, taking a neutral and outsider understanding of the situation. Tim does not support WAR immediately. In fact, despite Tim’s insistence to understand WAR, he never gets the chance to.

This the last and only time Tim ever even tries talking with WAR, during a sneak in. Apparently he couldn’t have done this during his time training the Robins, but doing it while working is fine. His terrible conversation starter gets interrupted, and that is the last and only time Drake ever tries connecting with WAR. Apparently monitoring their private lives was not enough information, all he knows is somebody can play the piano. So much for trying. (Tom King wrote this part tho, so I feel he was supposed to be the one to make it happen, which didn’t happen, so Tom did a horrible job). (I’m ignoring the scene where Tim downplays Izzy because Izzy was OOC).

Dami beat up the WAR members and agitated them into battle. Another show of Dami’s honor culture, but what was so fascinating was how Duke and the WARs fought back to prove themselves although not wishing to fight.

Skipping to when Dami and Duke get captured, they funnily enough get put into the same cage as Duke insults Dami in his mind while having a reasonable outer dialogue which i found fun.

Despite the weird court of owl part, Duke’s dialogue was a great way to finish off the tension between the official Robins and the WARs. Duke realizes how personal Robin is to Dami, how the symbol is not just about justice, but the ties to Batman it comes with. Y’know what Duke does? He cuts it off. He refuses to sacrifice himself to become a symbol.

They end off on good terms after that. With Dami reclaiming the title of Robin (and WAR’s disbandment), the conflict is gone. But I think it’s worth noting just how much Dami’s influence on Duke’s view of Robin might’ve been. Being Robin kinda sucks. So out of pity, Duke realizes Dami needs some loving support.

(Not a batfam kid but she was in here and I’m working by chronological order). Kate and Duke have a small interaction but they definitely met. Plus I think Duke was retconned to have known Luke through his dad and I think that’s a great addition.

Skips ahead where Jayson seems to train with Duke, their sass competitions tho 💀 Also, Jayson considers Duke as one of his brothers 😆

Classic Alfred advice talks

(You’ll notice that the writers decided to skip showing Duke’s development, this is why we need fanfiction thanks). Basically, Duke started hanging out with Cass for seemingly no reason, but they are a really fun dynamic. Plus Duke got to know Babs first through Cass. (I'm ignoring when Riko met Babs as batgirl and when Babs as batgirl defended WAR cheerfully).

Cass and Duke also train together (i really like the illustrator here aaaaaaaaa Duke and Cass are so cute here 🥺).

This storyline was bad but it really pushed Cass and Duke together as Cass was there when Duke got his new shadow powers and Duke was there when Shiva was being a jerk to Cass for some reason?? They coordinated attacks as a duo so that was nice. Plus, Duke thinks of Cass as his sis. (Is this specifically catered to me? Yeah, yeah…. I’m tots falling for the putting the minorities together thingy like a sucker, but themmmmmmmm!!! 🥹)

Duke and Kate actually teamed up in action once (offhandedly 😔) so that’s neat.

(Hold on I reached my picture limit but there’s a part 2)

#Duke thomas #we are robin #batfam #dick grayson #Jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne #kate kane #luke fox #alfred pennyworth #long post #canon #comic panels

[fanofthelamb]

I just went through your entire blog looking for more of your art!! Loved your work!!! I have a question though, in ur au does the lamb and narinder end up falling in love or is it one sided? Since the lamb married narinder to humiliate him, how does he react to the "humiliation " ??

HIIII IM USING THIS AS AN EXCUSE TO RAMBLE ABOUT MY NARILAMB PAIRING ENJOY THE ABSOLUTE NOVEL IM ABOUT TO DROP!!!!!!!

vvv Including a SHITLOAD of Pics <3 vvv

Actually, they’ve been in love for a long time! Narinder was the one who fell first, and was NOT shy about showing the lamb.

REST BELOW THE CUT!!!

Of course the lamb didn’t care at first. In fact, they were trying to have ANY of Narinders bullshit. They were here to kill their executors and everyone else could get fucked, honestly.

He DID eventually win the lamb over. They were still extremely shy about it, being able to see the obvious problems that came with having a relationship with their god, but YOLT, right?

Now, though, it’s still reciprocated. The lamb is still angry at Narinder for asking them to lay down their life, and is happily taking it out on him! Depending on the AU, whether it be my main blog and it’s interpretation of the lamb or my BTG AU, it really depends. FOTL I do really have plans for the lamb to at least soften up on Nari, BTG explores the lamb being unable to let go of what happens and letting it and the crown lead them down a path they can’t turn back from. Very fun either way!!

The marriage thing had the OPPOSITE effect of what the Lamb was hoping for. To give context; the lamb and Narinder are “married” before he leaves his chains (the lamb will DENY the hell out this though + comics about that still in progress) so when the lamb married him again, he completely misinterpreted the marriage as the lamb telling him They still loved him instead of it being a punishment, even with the lambs threats after the ceremony. It’s his strongest piece of evidence that the lamb is just pissed and needs a LOT of time to cool down. He is right, but no one believes him. Especially with how the lamb acts towards him.

The "humiliation" of the marriage failed terribly, and the lambs attempts to torment him fail just as badly. Any time the lamb tries showing affection though, that is when Narinder is truly terrified.

So... The "humiliation" they try to put him through never works but when they have a tiny moment of weakness that fucker's whole life flashes before his eyes skDASKHGFFJH

n e way... YEA!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE ENJOY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TY FOR THE ASK <33333

#cotl #cotl lamb #cult of the lamb #the lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #cotl narilamb #IM TAGGING THIS I SPENT EVERY BREAK AT WORK ON THIS TEEHEEEHEE #these are just really shitty doodles bc no way i got the stamina for lined and colored images but SQUEE HOPE U LIKE

[mintaikcorpse]

Moments I Think Blitzø Realized His Feelings for Stolas, Part 3: Stolas's Chains

Imma just go in backwards order ig. Part 1, Part 2

Truth Seekers is what made me say, "Okay, fine, I ship it!" After denying it for 5 episodes. There so much juicy Stolitz stuff and Blitzø angst to analyze! Many people have done this already, but goddammit, I want a piece of the cake too! Won't analyze the hallucination though, that's veen done enough. But I'll analyze some parts!

Throughout the entire hallucination, Blitzø is being pushed around by the people he's had a romantic or sexual connection with in the past. Moxxie insults him and berates him the entire time, and we know he has sexual feelings for Moxxie (I feel like Millie isn't here because she's never shown hostility to Blitzø, so he doesn't see her as 'bad'). Fizz is here making fun of him, and thst was his childhood friend who he had a crush on, but it ended horribly (💌🎂🕯🔥). Verosika is his ex girlfriend and drags him around and gets into his face calling him "a selfish shitty shit fuck." Striker is there as well calling out Blitzø's lies to himself about wanting to do things alone, and that fits well because he asked Striker to join IMP, and we know he had some attraction to him. The point is, everyone in the hallucination is someone he has been attracted too, and they're all including him and dragging him around against his will.

But then we see Stolas and all the insults and berating stops. He simply just asks, "Are you afraid to love people, Blitzy?"

This is the only person Blitzø actually goes towards. He runs up the stares, trying to escape everyone else. Why? For comfort? Because they were there? Or because he wanted to go to Stolas?

He looks at Stolas in awe, with his eyes wide and gasping. And then he starts crawling towards him.

At first, he willingly crawls up the stares. He looks tired and energy drained, but he doesn't look angry. Maybe a bit nervous, but not angry. But as he gets closer, chains appear around him, and Stolas uses them to bring him closer. But he doesn't fight these chains. I looked up some symbolism, and apparently, chains can symbolize "eternal love and human connection" (from gatsbyjewllery.co.uk). But they also symbolize feeling trapped. I think this shows that Blitzø feels trapped by his emotions for Stolas, and like he's powerless against them. He's falling again, despite how his past relationships turned out, but he's still doing it again. And he's powerless against it.

Look at him! He's not having a good time! He looks surprised and hurt and frustrated, but he still goes along with Stolas, because while Stolas is pulling him closer, Blitzø isn't struggling and still goes to him. I think it's multiple things here. He feels like he has to do it for the book, but it also goes back to his emotions again, and feeling powerless against them, and feeling powerless when he's with Stolas.

Look at him. In the first image, he just looks nervous while Stolas holds a hand over his collar. But then, when Stolas tightens it, Blitzø starts blushing and looks both nervous and embarrassed. He's embarrassed because he likes it, and he has feelings for Stolas, but he also feels like a pet or a plaything. He's scared for the same reasons he's embarrassed; he likes it. If he likes it, that's a dangerous slope of falling again, but then leaving Stolas fucked up, and Stolas will see how much of a terrible person he is.

Ah, then my favorite part. The ✨️festhers✨️

Everyone in the drug trip dissappears, with Stolas (and Moxxie) disappearing into golden feathers. I think the gold feathers at this point symbolize the truth, which is why both Moxxie and Stolas disappeared with gold feathers. They've been calling him out on all the emotions he had buried, so of course they're the ones that change. But then, instead of going in the weird tornado thing, Stolas's feathers cling onto him.

In the first picture, Blitzø is just noticing the feathers. He looks annoyed and angry and disgusted ("ew, feelings"). The chains are still on him, but without the actual chains. I'm sure that means something, but I can't figure it out. Maybe symbolizing hisblingering emotions??

In the second image, he's now aware of the feathers that are there and is actiey swatting them away. He's grimacing and hunched over, clearly feeling vulnerable, angry, and scared.

By this image, the feathers have taken over most of his body. He looks confused and angry about it, and they're covering his mouth. He holds his hands up like he doesn't want to even touch them.

And by the last image, the feathers have fully taken over his body, and he's screaming in pain. If the feathers symbolize truth, and one of his truths is his feelings for Stolas, the feathers are his true feelings wrapping around his body until he can no longer ignore or handle them.

Later after the trip ends he says, "I have delt with one two many emotions for tonight, let's fuck these fuckers up!" There he goes, ignoring his emotions again with violence or sex.

This was supposed to be a short series, but my god, there is a lot more.

#blitzø #blitz #blitzo #helluva boss blitzø #blitzø helluva boss #helluva boss blitz #blitz helluva boss #helluva boss blitzo #blitzo helluva boss #stolas #stolas goetia #helluva boss stolas #stolas helluva boss #moxxie #helluva boss moxxie #moxxie helluva boss #helluva boss #helluva boss notes

[all-pacas]

stupid chase 13 self indulgent sibling shit:

13 is the first one to jokingly refer to chase as her brother. except she calls him her younger brother. chase is like super touched but also hi i'm older than you "sure you are buddy". it's like an ironic "haha we're not actually siblings" joke except secretly no. it's not ironic

13 also has made at least a couple "let's go find dad" jokes about house. she finds it funny and deeply annoying that house and chase don't seem to Get It. it's very obvious to her that chase's deepest dream is for house to pat his shoulder and say "i'm proud my son" but they deny it

at least once 13 has pat chase's shoulder and gone "i'm proud my son"

at least once though. at least one time. "i killed my older brother." "i abandoned my younger sister to rehab." like they know. all their darkest shit. they don't want to be siblings because they did terrible things to their families. but it's why they are

they text. she's constantly sending him photos from her greek island. the food. the beach. look how hot my girlfriend is. he's in the middle of some gross procedure and gets a text of a beautiful sunset. he sends back a photo of a urine sample or some gross wound

when chase quit at the end of s8 and 13 swung by the next episode to talk with wilson the next day? she was staying with chase while she was in town. they mostly just hung out and watched nature documentaries. when wilson called she was like "oh i just happen to be in new jersey, let's meet up" while wearing sweats and sitting on chase's sofa

chase offers to kill her since house is gone and can't. they come up with a rough timeline and plan and then never discuss it again. until it's time.

at least a few dark "oh, shit, i'm wilson now, aren't i?" jokes from her in return. shit, the new house has a dying best friend too! except with so much less sexual tension!! they joke because they can't bring themselves to be serious about it. she tries to set him up with new friends. big advocate for choreman

idk but i get the feeling they'd watch crappy reality tv together.

they'll sometimes just have the darkest and most serious 1 am conversations about morality and souls and what makes a person good or evil, and then the next time they see one another instead of following up it's just "did you see real housewives last night"

chase has never asked 13 for a favor. like he'll ask her little things or let her pay for lunch, but that's about it. meanwhile she can call him at 2 am and he'll show up no questions asked. maybe kind of grumpy about it tho. kind of pisses her off he never lets her return the favor and sort of shut himself off emotionally after s6. but also it's nice? not the "chase's turn towards cynicism" part, but having a standing no questions asked deal.

when he annoys her enough, 13 DOES call chase "robbie" or worse "bobby" but he's never called her by her first name and probably never will

he didn't tell her he got stabbed and she was mad about it because see above. that was a real bobby day

chase knows she doesn't want to fuck around with more huntington's trials but he reads EVERY article and EVERY journal, just in case some miracle comes up. 13 meanwhile follows fake african country politics with a weird intensity to make sure diabla's forces aren't regaining power. they never discuss either thing with one another.

first time 13 visited Chase MD office she forced him to pose in front of the door and took like 15 photos like it was bobby's first day of school. absolutely humiliating

chase goes to 13 and amy's wedding. he's the only one of the PPTH folks who do (taub sends a card. they forgot to tell foreman.)

once 13 was like "we're both hot and single and should do what hot, single people do!" "....have...sex...?" "no, go to a gay bar" they actually go quite a few times

#hate crimes md #robert chase #remy thirteen hadley