#scribbling mama scribbles again

[beeapocalypse]

forever fiddling w these guys' designs

#scribbles #babble oc #mutter oc #thosere funny masks not actual skulls or w/e. leaning just a bit further into their clown nature #they were angels under fluisau pre casting out but babble at least always wanted to get more involved with tailsearch (takes on no angels-- #--of their own. wouldve been a pointless effort of its own to try 2 do so) specifically bc he thought if he learned of how many different-- #--ways things could fail no matter how much effort it put into them then hed be able to never make a mistake again. mutter was-- #--always a mamas boy tho lol that is in part why fluisau went pretty easy on them in their exile

[bangaveragewhitewine]

the boy is mine (amy's edition)

Written as part of @carolmunson ‘s the boy is mine writing exercise which is such a fun and gorgeous idea!

wc: 1,800

contents: love-sick best friends turned lovers, set in 1985 (there's an angstier version of this in my drafts...), allusions to sex (nothing explicit), Eddie's boner mention, kissing until your lips hurt

notes: Well, I’d love to lie and say that this was a breeze, but writing has been incredibly difficult for me lately. Fighting with myself comes easier than writing these days, but this is a really fabulous idea. Feeling ✨part of something✨ is really special (and a little daunting). Thank you, Carol 🩷

the scene: a romantic night-in at the trailer. 

the guidelines: prompt, props and dialogue are all here 

April 1985

You watch silver smoke curl and melt into the air as the cigarette burns between Eddie’s lips. The scent of it cuts through the lingering fug of weed and sex and sweat. His hands are busy with pen and paper, jotting lyric ideas into his little notebook.

It feels a little bit romantic that he is so inspired after fucking you.

Your chilly feet rub together beneath the covers. It’s hard to resist the urge to stick them between his shins but you don’t want to ruin his artistic flow by shocking him with your arctic toes. 

Fade to Black plays from the boombox on his messy dresser. Eddie had wound the tape back to restart the almost seven-minute track after the first listen-through and grinned unapologetically when you rolled your eyes at him. His head bobs to the beat as he scribbles and you shift your attention to a particularly perfect curl lying across his shoulder, the dark black ink pressed into his skin.

If your camera were closer, you would snap a picture of him. But for now, you store the image of him away in your mind. In twenty, thirty, forty years, you will remember tonight and smile. There’s a whole life ahead of you to plan with him, and you’re pretty sure Eddie wants in on it too. 

“Your Mama never told you it’s rude to stare, princess?” he asks, rereading what he had just spilled onto the page. He clicks the pen three times before folding the notebook closed. His wave of inspiration has peaked and you are, once again, his sole focus. 

“Maybe. Probably.” You shrug one shoulder before taking the cigarette from between his lips.

The way your lips hug the filter makes Eddie’s body thrum to life all over again. When you lean across him to tap off the ash, he takes his chance to pull you against his chest and lock you into his lap, closer than close. The cigarette is left to burn out as you trade smokey, wet kisses back and forth between smiling lips until you are both laughing at nothing, at everything. At that little whiney noise lodged in the back of Eddie’s throat, and the way he taps the opening bars of Trapped Under Ice against your bare body. 

That throaty, dirty laugh makes you feel warm all over. His cheeks are rosy-warm and cherubic when he smiles at you. You want to nibble them but settle on gentle kisses instead. His eyelids and forehead are next, then his nose, before you work your way back to his lips. It’s a tender moment after those almost unstoppable giggles, rib-aching and eye-watering laughter that comes easy when you’re with Eddie - more free-flowing when you’re still a little bit faded. 

“Want the rest of that pizza?” Eddie asks after a few moments. His mouth has been busy kissing your neck and shoulder, and the way his breath catches on damp patches makes you shiver. 

A few more smiling kisses are traded before you vacate the cocoon of body-warm blankets together to don discarded sweaters and underwear. Eddie glues himself to your back in a penguin shuffle to the kitchenette to raid the forgotten pizza box and the stash of munchie-friendly snacks stowed away in the cupboard. 

The formica feels cool against the back of your thighs as you chew thoughtfully on the cooled-off slice. There are empty cans of High Life on the table between the melted candles; Eddie’s romantic ideas of tea lights and the champagne of beers had set the butterflies in your stomach swirling when you stepped into the trailer that evening. The VHS cases and TV remote are lost between the couch cushions and throw pillows, cast aside before you could even decide what to watch in favour of making out hot and heavy. 

Eddie holds up two soup-recipe mugs. “I ran out of like, nice cups, this okay?" he asks. 

The unwashed everyday mugs are abandoned in the sink and Eddie’s own Garfield mug is a quarter full of flat soda on his dresser. You know better than to suggest one of the collectables perched high on the shelves and hooks in the living room, and Eddie does too. Wayne is still irked about the cracked commemorative Moon Landing mug. It’s been glued together and sits safely on a higher-up shelf since thirteen-year-old Eddie had wanted to impress you, his new friend, with hot cocoa. 

You look back at the bowl-cups, and wonder if anyone ever used the recipe on the front. “They are nice. I’ve always wanted to drink not-soup out of these. Feels illegal.” 

Everyone always said he would be a bad influence on you, drag you down. They never saw that soft side to Eddie Munson, but you did. Using soup bowls as cups is far from ritual sacrifice and grand theft auto.

When he looks at you, perched on the counter in his hoodie and no pants, eating cold pizza, he feels like he might be looking at an angel. Your post-sex hair is your messy halo.

He comes to stand between your thighs and you feed him a bite before pushing his bangs back to kiss his forehead simply because you want you. Because you can now. Now that the pretence of being just friends has finally (finally) been dropped. Everything about your night together - now that you are together - is pretty similar to how it’s always been. Pizza and laughing until your ribs hurt, smoking enough to make you loose-limbed and ravenous. You spend less time looking at his lips and fingers and wondering what they feel like; you know now, and get to sample any time. 

He steals one more bite before popping the lid on a can of Betty Crocker vanilla frosting from the cupboard. It has been a solid fixture of your garbage-food fixes since you and Eddie were fourteen and fifteen and home alone with a stack of horror movies to watch; Betty and two spoons, maybe some peanut butter or salty chips for balance. Now there is always a can in the cupboard, in your house and in the trailer, for when the cravings hit. When you move to Indy together after graduation, it’s top of your grocery list.

Eddie feeds you the first spoon, hovering it in front of your lips so you will come and take it. He feels a little like a pervert when he watches you eat it, lips around the cold metal and your eyes closed. You know exactly what you’re doing, doling out a little payback for Eddie getting distracted with his lyrics and set-lists while you were cuddling.

“Did anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” you ask, tongue thick and coated with sweet vanilla. 

“Just appreciating the art, sweet thing,” he fires back, winking at you before taking a bite of frosting. His brows pull in like he’s pondering something. “Mm. Wonder if  there’s a Mr Crocker…”

You shove his head as he cackles that goblin-laugh of his and you try not to smirk at the same joke he’s been telling for years. 

“You want an older model, Munson? Karen Wheeler’s been looking pretty dolled up lately…” You take the spoon, tapping it against your lip as Eddie pulls a face. 

“Oh yeah, MILFs of Hawkins, come get me.” Eddie rolls his eyes before sliding his fingers up your bare legs to find the soft curve of your waist. “Only girl for me is riiight here, baby. You’re all the woman I need.”

He’s pressed up close with his chin resting against your chest, gazing at you like you hung the moon. 

“Better tell O’Donnell that. I think she has a crush, s’why she keeps giving you detention.” 

“You’re a fuckin’ sicko.” Eddie’s reverence shifts into a scowl as he rests against your chest, but softens again when your fingers slide into his hair, coaxing him to relax and melt against you. 

“And you like that?” you ask.

“I do.”

Eddie can feel the sped-up thud of your heart beneath his ear, matching the beat of his own. A peaceful moment settles over the kitchen.

Until a tendril of mischief unfurls inside you. Imitating that nasally, cringe-inducing voice of O’Donnell blended with something a little breathy, you whisper in his ear, “Edward Munson. I want to see you after class. You’ve been a very bad boy…” 

He steps back from you, hands over his ears so he can’t hear any more of your teasing. It’s cold without him all wrapped up and pressed against you.

“Divorce. Divorcing you. Get out.” 

Your cheeks ache, like when you’ve had a lollipop lodged there for a little too long. It’s sweet and cloying like the joy you take from riling him up like this. “Aw, don’t be like that!”

“Too late. I’m taking the house and the kids.” 

“That’s not even…” you cut yourself off, laughing too hard, and Eddie can’t even hide his own smile; he can’t buy into his own dramatics when you sit glowing on his kitchen counter, damp-eyed from laughing so hard (even if it is at his expense). 

“M’sorry, sorry. Don’t divorce me.” You pout and open your arms out, grabby hands poking from the too-long sleeves until he slopes back between your legs and folds against you. Your mind wanders briefly to a future where you’re Mrs Munson; it sounds nice.

As stubborn as he can be, Eddie thaws after a few sweet kisses cut with quiet little murmurs of ‘forgive meee’. You feed him another spoon of icing as a sign of peace, sweetening him up just a little more before licking what’s left off of the tip and edge. 

You feel his hands squeezing tighter on your hips, bringing your attention back to Eddie and away from the frosting. 

“Hm?”

“If you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem.” He sees your confused expression and taps the spoon. “I’m gettin’ jealous. Of a spoon.” 

You can feel the problem, warm and thick against your leg. It does not feel like much of a problem, and you both can think of a few tried and tested solutions to make it all better - a few more to be explored are jotted on a page of another small notebook tucked away in Eddie’s drawer.

“Is it a problem? Really?” you ask, head tilted with the metal tap-tapping against your lips before you go in for another indulgent scoop. 

“Okay, I’m cutting you off.” 

The spoon is snatched and thrown, and it clangs against the mugs in the sink as Eddie takes your hands and hauls you down from the counter. You taste vanilla on his tongue, sharing the sweetness with you as you stumble blindly back to his room.

thank you for reading🩷reblogs, likes and comments are welcome and cherished!

Don't forget to check out the rest of the fics from the challenge!!

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #bangaveragefics

[neoarchipelago]

Just saw a TikTok where a kid send their favorite stuff animal to his dad who's deployed. Just imagine this happening with 141 🥺 (I'm actually sending this to my favorite writers hoping I can get a cute scenario 😅)

That sounds adorable... I melted at the thought. Sorry it got very angst with Ghost but I'm feral for this man and I'd give him babies any time he wants.

Warning: slight NSFW, f!reader, angst and comfort

Price:

Price would frown but have a little smirk, watching the recruit hand him a cardboard box. His smile spreads when he notices figures of who it is from.

He wouldn't mind opening it in front of the team. They'd be busy bickering anyway.

He swears his heart stops for a second and he sees the soft thing. He could recognize it in the middle of the battlefield, the awful thought putting a ping of anger in his heart.

He'd be silent for a moment, looking at the round pink thing, his mind instantly wandering home, to you and your daughter.

He took the tiny note, scribbled a bit. "Keep you company daddy. Love, mom and me"

He swears he could cry right now.

He keeps it in his barracks, hidden so well no one ever glanced at it until he left. He wouldn't dare taking it with him, not wanting to soil it with he horrors of the battlefield.

He hugs it at night, until the day he returns, his daughter running to him as he holds the stuffed animal who kept his sanity strong.

He makes sure to worship you that night, thanking you silently for making him the happiest man on earth. In the morning you're sore but oh so happy. He whispers sweet nothings as he helps prepare breakfast, thanking you for giving him a daughter and home to come to.

Soap:

Soap would be thrilled to see the box for him. He wouldn't even wait to open it, under the amused gazes of the team.

He'd smile brightly at the sight of the little shark, immediately taking the note to read it out loud "to help you fight daddy!"

He run around the room, holding it up in the air, voicing to his team how happy he was, how proud of his son and how he absolutely loved you for giving him such a gift .

He'd keep it at all times at base. The round thing on the table in front of him during meetings.

He calls it Sergeant Sharky, everyone starting referring it by the same name.

At night he hold it tight, it's more intimate. He can let himself feel the way he misses home, almost tearing up. He knows you're waiting for him at home, probably preparing for his arrival.

He swears he's the happiest man alive.

When he gets home he tells stories of Sergeant Sharky on the battlefield (never anything gory) his boy being in absolute amazement over how his favorite stuffed animal was a hero with his dad.

He absolutely ravages you that night, almost begging you for another kid, begging to make him a daddy again. He just praises you for being the best mama, the best wife. He has you limping by morning as he holds his son, running around with him as he winks at you, subtly hinting to his son to ask you for a sibling.

Gaz:

I feel like gaz would open it with the team too. Though he'd be much more hidden and private about it.

He immediately smiles when he sees the little white bear inside of the box. He can't help the sadness and yearning he feels almost immediately.

The images of you, laughing in the morning as his son jumps on the bed to wake him up makes his throat burn slightly.

He found the indulging gaze of Price who noticed the fluffy thing.

He'd read the note to himself, hiding it from anyone's gaze.

"to take care of you daddy" he has to blink away the blurriness.

He'd be more secret about it, but as soon as his in his tent the toy is with him at all times. He finds himself sometimes talking to it. "Yeah... I miss home too. We'll go back to them."

He finds himself with a new strength, the battle almost feeling less heavy on him. He's doing it for you. For his son. To try and make the world a better place.

He almost runs home from the airport, throwing the front door open, bags dropping to the floor as you see him. Your mouth opens slightly, shocked, but he sees the relief in your eyes. He kisses you deeply, the sound of tiny running footsteps from the hallway making his heart stammer in his chest.

He's home. That night he makes love to you, lovingly, sweetly and with such love that you find yourself crying and clinging to him. He finds himself absolutely loving the way your son runs into the room by morning, waking him up. He doesn't give a shit how tired he is.

Ghost:

Oh god... Here I go...

When he's handed the box, he frowns. He immediately retreats to his tent to open it. He freezes when he sees the white and brown bunny.

He's scared to touch it. His gloves feel disgusting and tainted with horrors. He rips them off his hands, putting the box down on his bed to rush to wash his hands. They're clean, albeit sweaty but he just can't seem to shake away the feeling of blood on them.

When he finally let's himself touch the soft thing he holds it like it's the most fragile thing he ever touched. It shouldn't be here. So close to him when he's a monster right now.

The note breaks him. "Come back to us" it's your writing, she's too small to write. But there's a tiny sun scribbled in pencil next to it.

He rips off his mask bringing the bunny to his forehead as his head bows down, closing his eyes. He's crying. He feels guilty from being away from you. From his daughter. From home. Home that you allowed him, after he had thought he'd never be worthy of it.

It stays in his things. Hidden. He very rarely takes it out. Tries to not look at it too much. He's almost protecting it from even witnessing the base. Keeping it away from Ghost. That he tried to keep at the front door every time he came home.

When he gets home he needs time. It's always the same. He calls you, announcing that he is back. He takes 24h to remain on base, letting himself split from the battlefield. He needs time. You know it. You understood it.

When he gets home you notice something else this time. His eyes look at you with such adoration that you catch yourself almost hyperventilating. He often looks at you with love and care. But right now he looks at you like you were his goddess, his air and life essence. The same look he gives your daughter, like she's the only thing that ever matters to him.

He sits on the couch later, handing the bunny to his daughter who beams at the sight of her bunny back. He softly thanked her for sending the bunny to him. Softly explains that she should keep it home, it'd get dirty with daddy. You noticed the subtle message underneath his words. You want to hug him. But of course she understands. Such a clever girl.

He fucks you passionately and hard. He marks you with hickeys and bites, he gets lost in you, lost in your scent, the soft sheets are freshly clean. Your moans anchor him to his new found paradise.

He's got a small need to breed you again. But he'd talk to you about it. Beg on his knees if necessary, hoping that you'd be merciful to grant him another miracle. (As if he needed to do anything else but simply ask. Like you weren't the one who'd kneel for him if he asked.)

If you were the one to start the conversation, about, perhaps, maybe, if there was a chance, at some point "just spill it out love" "I want a baby... Again"

Absolutely feral. Literally throws your pill to the trash. It's on.

Doesn't let go of his daughter for days. She's in heaven as daddy holds her whenever she wants, reads her stories and plays with her. He keeps bending you over the nearest surface if she's napping or playing at a family's house (extremely rare, he's a protective wolf over her)

Spoils her rotten, he feels so guilty for leaving for such long periods of time. Spoils you as well.

#fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost cod #cod mw2 #captain price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley smut #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick #gaz x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #gaz #soap mactavish #soap #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #soap mactavish x reader #ghost simon riley #captain john price #john price #price mw2

[the-froschamethyst4]

“My daddy can beat your daddy up”

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Father! König x Wife! Mother! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: fluff, wholesome, children, language, daddy König & mommy Y/n, fighting/arguing, badly translated German

König’s and Y/n’s 5 year old daughter had a bit of an argument with another little girl at her school

Which led to a small fight and the parents having to be called down to speak with the Principal

And König shows up to the school and the parents of the other little girl are a little frightened that HE is the father of that little girl

——————

———————

6:30AM

Y/n’s and König’s little daughter Heidi was getting her uniform on to get ready for school. Y/n made Heidi her favorite and poured her some orange juice too.

Heidi came running down the stairs and got in her spot at the table. König’s face in the newspaper but placed it down when he heard Heidi’s chair being pulled out.

“Schatz (honey) don’t forget we need bread and milk. I’ll be working late again,” he said, picking up his mug. “Or else I would get it for us.”

“No, it’s fine, yeah I’ll go stop by the store after I drop Heidi off at school,” she said as she walked over kissing his cheek and sitting next to Heidi who was stuffing her face.

—————

König was getting his clothes on and Y/n walked in changing her shirt and getting shorts on in the process.

König watched her in the mirror her body and smirked to himself, and looked down at his boots.

“I see that little bruise on your side schatz, did I do that from last night?” König teased. Y/n looked down at her hip and saw the small dark bruise.

“I guess so,” she said.

“I have to get going.” König said, coming closer to Y/n and kissing her forehead. “I’ll see ya later.”

“Bye, love you!”

“Ich liebe dich auch (I love you too),” he yells back.

“HEIDI COME ON, WE HAVE TO GO!!” Y/n’s yells for her daughter.

They left the house and Y/n buckled her daughter in her car seat. Heidi moved her head side to side, her hands tapping the arms of her car seat and humming a song that was playing on the radio.

“Mama.”

“Yes, baby?”

“When does school end?”

“Time or officially done and ready for summer?” Y/n asked, looking up in the rear view mirror to look at her daughter.

“Ummmm~ I don’t know anymore,” Heidi said as she went back to humming.

“Okay?” Y/n giggled. “Heidi, when I’m at the store, do you want me to get you anything?”

“Candy!”

“I’ll get you one bag of candy.”

“Okay,” she smiles as Y/n pull into the schools parking lot. Y/n got out and opened the back door and unbuckled her daughter. Y/n placed Heidi on the ground and grabbed her backpack and put it in Heidi’s back.

Heidi held Y/n’s hand and walked to the entrance of the school. Y/n bent down kissing Heidi’s forehead.

“I’ll see you later, baby.”

“Okay, mama, bye-bye,” Heidi smiled as she skipped into the school building after giving her Principal a fist bump.

——————

Y/n got to the store grabbing things they need at the house, she even grabbed some cleaning supplies for the house.

Y/n hummed a soft tune as she filled the cart with stuff for the house, food and even cleaning supplies. Y/n liked to clean if only you could see how CLEAN that house was.

——————

Heidi sat at her desk, a coloring sheet in front of her and a few crayons in front of her, she was coloring badly but to her, it looked like Picasso.

“I know how to color in the lines, unlike you,” Heidi looked up seeing Emma.

She was kind of bossy, Heidi didn’t like her but was always taught by Y/n to always be nice even if certain people didn’t deserve it.

“So? I’m trying and we’re in Kindergarten,” Heidi reminded her.

“And some of us still act like babies,” Emma stuck her tongue out at Heidi.

“Why are you so mean?”

“I AM NOT MEAN!”

“You are. I didn’t do anything to you,” Heidi said as she colored her picture. Emma grabbed a yellow crayon and scribbled a line all over Heidi’s picture.

Heidi stood up dropping her crayon and turned to Emma. Heidi pushed Emma to the ground.

Emma started to cry and Heidi got on Emma, pulling at her hair and threw the first punch and Emma cried and tried to push Heidi off her.

Heidi watched the blood trickle from Emma’s nose.

“HEY MÄDELS (hey girls)!!” The teacher yelled breaking up the fight between both girls.

Yeah…Heidi might have been taught to be nice by Y/n but König secretly taught her how to fight.

——————

König walked around the compound making sure everything was going smoothly till he heard his phone ring.

He looked down seeing Heidi’s school calling.

“Aww nichts (shit),” he mumbled. “Hello?” König tried to put on a fake happy tone.

“Hi, is this Heidi’s father?”

“Yes? Is everything okay?”

“I’m afraid not…your daughter Heidi had gotten into…an altercation with another female student, and I would like for you or your wife or the both of you to please come down to the school.”

“Yes. I will let my wife know. We’ll be there soon,” König hung up and rubbed his nose bridge. “Oh Baby, Mama wird verrückt sein ( oh baby, mama is gonna be mad).” He mumbled as he called Y/n.

“Hi, King, what’s going on?” He could hear the smile on her face.

“Ummm~ we have to go to the school.”

“Why?” Now he hears the smile drop.

“Heidi got into an altercation with another girl.”

“HEIDI!! She would NEVER!”

“Kleine mama (little mama), she did, they wouldn’t just call for nothing, we’ll have to go. I’ll be a minute before I get there.”

“Okay, I’m leaving,” Y/n grabbed her car keys and hung up her phone.

———————

Y/n walked into the school seeing her daughter sitting in a chair just outside the Principal’s office.

“Heidi,” Y/n coos as she bent down to her daughters level seeing no scratches on her daughter accept bloody knuckle.

“Heidi, did you-“

“I punched her mommy,” Heidi’s face was red with tears threatening to fall from her face. Y/n cupped her daughters face and kissed her forehead.

As she did they both heard the doors open and the girls turned to see König come towards them taking off his leather jacket.

“What happened?”

Y/n pulled König aside and whispered, “She punched her King…”

König looked at his daughter just behind his wife.

“What!”

“Her knuckle…they’re bloody…she’s so scared König, I’m scared they’ll suspend her…”

“Mamas…they might since she threw the first punch, she doesn’t know any better, she’s just a kid, they’ll probably suspend her for a day.”

“Mr and Mrs King?” Y/n and König looked at the Principal’s office. The parents of the other little girl came walking out. The little girl had an ice pack over her eye with it covered in blood.

The parents looked at König and shuttered at the fact that he was Heidi’s father. Y/n looked at Emma’s bloody ice pack and at her daughter bloody knuckles.

“Please come in,” The Principal said.

Y/n and König sat in front of the desk as the Principal came around the desk to sit in his chair.

“Now, as I think you two are aware. Heidi had punched Emma-“

“Over what situation?” König asked.

The Principal showed Heidi’s picture. “This is Heidi’s picture this yellow line…was Emma’s doing, Heidi got mad and threw a punch at Emma. Teacher said Heidi hit her and pulled her hair while Emma was on the ground defenseless.”

“Heidi just got mad because someone ruined her picture big deal. I’d be mad if someone messed up my project,” König said, leaning forward.

“What my husband is trying to say is that…Heidi doesn’t know any better and is just a child. Children always learn from their mistakes and sometimes their actions are stronger than their words…if that makes sense…she just probably thought that was the only way she could get her point across was being defensive…she probably didn’t even mean to punch Emma…she was so upset when I saw her knuckle.”

“Well…we asked her who taught her how to punch and she said,” The Principal looked at König. “That she learned fighting from you, sir.”

König’s eyes widened. He never told Y/n that he has given Heidi some fighting lessons. He slowly turned to look at his wife. He saw her jaw dropped and eyes widened.

*Oh fuck* he thought.

“What?”

“I am guessing, you were unaware?” He asked.

“Very,” she turned and glared at König. “I will be speaking to mein Mann und meine Tochter (my husband and daughter) once we get home,” she said.

“Well, in that case…Heidi King will be suspended for a day, she will come back Thursday.”

“Will do, Mr.Müller.”

Y/n and König walked out of the Principals office. König felt bad for not telling Y/n, but Heidi knew that she was definitely more in trouble then she was before. Heidi grabbed her daddy’s hand and walked behind her mother.

They got to the car König buckled Heidi in her car seat.

“Comfortable?” He asked and she nodded.

König got in the passenger side as Y/n started the car but didn’t go anywhere. She was just…pissed.

“You’ve been teaching her.”

“Oh no.”

“HOW TO FIGHT?! KÖNIG!!”

“I’m sorry okay?! She wanted me to show her some moves and they soon became into teaching lessons. I didn’t know she was gonna use them at school, it was just for fun, no one was supposed to get hurt, kleine mama (little mama).”

“WELL SOMEONE DID KING!”

“Mama…are you mad at daddy and me?”

“…no baby, I’m just…a little disappointed,” Y/n said as she drove off and headed home. “Tomorrow, Heidi. I want you to write an apology to Emma and her parents explaining you didn’t mean to let your anger to get the best of you, Thursday you’ll deliver it and you also will get no TV, no tablet, okay?”

“Yes, mama…for how long?” Heidi asked.

“…Till Sunday…”

“Okay,” Heidi looked outside as König looked at his wife.

“And me?” König asked.

“Well since you asked. You’ll be sleeping on the couch till I think you deserve to come back into the bed, no kisses, no hugs, no sort of physical affection-“

“I get it, I get it, noted,” he said.

———————

8:20PM

Heidi had pajamas on and moved her covers and got under them.

“MAMA!! I’M READY!” Heidi yelled as Y/n came into her daughters bedroom.

“Okay.” Y/n tucked in Heidi and kissed her forehead. “Baby?”

Heidi looked up at her mom.

“I want you to promise me one thing.”

“Yes mama?”

“Never, never, ever, do that again, okay?”

“Yes mama.”

“Good, thank you,” she kissed Heidi’s forehead again and stood up turning off her bedroom light and shut her door and walked to her bedroom.

“Good night, König,” Y/b turned off the living room light while König was still trying to get himself comfortable.

“Really?” König said as he plopped down and closed his eyes.

Honestly, Y/n liked having the bed to herself, she had so much room, she was spread eagle on the bed taking up her side and König’s side too.

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #könig x you #könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig cod #könig #könig call of duty #könig modern warfare #könig mw2 #konig mw2

[xwingsandohs]

‘Haunted Beauty’ | Spencer Reid

prompt: ‘Person A likes to sketch, and B catches them sketching, and asks what they are drawing. Person A had been drawing B, so they stutter out an excuse while slamming their sketchbook closed.’

word count: 2.3k

content warnings?: none. fluff

a/n: this is the beginning of a renaissance where i come back to tumblr. bare with me while i reformat stuff and checkout my recent posts if ya can

When you reach eleven days without being called out to the field for a case, there’s a lull in the BAU that leaves everyone bored and irritable.

Morgan sits at his corner desk twiddling his pen, spinning on his chair and occasionally ripping up small pieces of paper to aim at someone’s (usually Reid’s) head. His aim is terrible, only because the small, rolled-up balls weigh so little, so you can watch with suppressed giggles until Reid finally notices his game. A hit to the head leads to an irritated “Hey!” - While you and Morgan laugh openly.

Morgan walks over to ruffle the messy hair of your colleague and picks up the small mess he’s left on the floor around him- Spencer shuts the small notebook he’d been working in at the disruption.

You spin around on your chair to see Emily not-so-subtly looking for cheap flights on her laptop- one of her favourite ways to guarantee her time-off is approved is by booking the trip before she even puts in the request. There’s no need for the efforts really, Hotch has never denied a PTO request since your jobs are so demanding, though it doesn’t hurt to be sure.

JJ comes up behind Emily waving an empty mug, asking if she wants another coffee too. She nods, groans into a “God, yes please.” - before JJ begins to ask about her vacation plans and where she hopes to go, pointing at her computer.

Coffee sounds like a fantastic idea, so you stand from your chair and do a lazy spin towards Morgan - “Yes please, mama.” - and taking the empty cup from Spencer’s extended hand too before he even gets the chance to ask. You smile at him warmly- and before you even get a chance to lean over and see what he’s been working on, he’s slammed his notebook shut again and said “Actually, I could do with a break too, I’ll join you.”

You nod and shrug acceptingly, and Spencer jogs across to JJ when she shouts to make enough for everyone, and grabs the two mugs from her hand as well. “Thanks, Spence.”

It takes you only a minute to prep the coffee, replacing the filter and dumping in some grounds and Spencer has swooped in to fill up the water jug before you get the chance. You thank him, and watch as he turns to the sink in the small kitchenette, flicks the tap on and watches as the water fills its container.

He’s wearing a comfortable-looking navy cardigan, it’s well-fitting and you’re acutely aware of how he’s allowed his own sense of style to come through in his working wardrobe over his years in the BAU. You allow yourself an indulgent look at your co-worker while his back is to you, grinning slightly as you enjoy the view.

“How’s the case files?” He asks as he finishes loading the machine and presses the button to let the coffee drip. His hands glide in their motions after so long of using the machine most days.

“I finished all my consults, now it’s just an endless pile of cold cases to keep me busy.” You drag out a few vowels as you speak, teetering close to yawning in exasperation but the easy nights at home have kept you well-rested.

“Me too.” He shrugs, gently pushing the tub of sugar closer to the mugs to use when the coffee has finished.

“What are you making notes on?” You ask, and lean your body comfortably against the countertop.

“Notes?” He scrunches his face.

“You’ve been scribbling in your notebook for the past half hour.” “Oh!”

Realisation washes over his face, and you wonder if there’s a reason for his unusually cloudy brain. You laugh just once and raise an eyebrow in confusion at him.

“Nothing in particular, just some musings to keep me busy.” He shrugs.

There’s an old metal tin sitting on the side, some cookies that an agent had made and brought in for everyone to take from. You reach across and open it, looking closely for the biggest one before taking it. You snap it in half and present the biggest piece to the man beside you.

“Thanks.” He utters, before taking an indulgent bite.

“What kind of musings are keeping Dr Reid busy on this fine Thursday afternoon?” You ask with a glint in your eye.

He shrugs, and begins to mumble through his cookie-filled mouth before pausing to actually swallow before he speaks. His action makes you giggle. “I was asked if I’d like to do a guest lecture on profiling for the FBI Academy and I’m not really sure if I want to do it.”

“Why not?” You ask sincerely.

“I think a lot of my stories about the job might change their mind about working here.” He smiles, you both laugh, and then he shakes his head. He’s not wrong. “No, I’m kidding. I’m just not sure if I’m ready for doing something like that alone, I think there’s a lot of pressure for lecturers to be engaging and informative, and I tend to go off on a tangent.”

“I love your tangents.” You reply honestly and with a smile, which he returns appreciatively, and a little rosy in the cheeks. “But I know what you mean, I’m a profiler for a living but I don’t think I could get on a stage and give a good lecture on it.”

“I, um,” He smiles wistfully and nods his head as he speaks, something he frequently does. “I’d love to run my own classes at the Academy or maybe Georgetown one day, but I’m not ready for that kind of responsibility yet.”

He’d be a fantastic professor, you know this. And you’re sure he’d have a lecture full of hopeful psychology fanatics just like you both once were. “Maybe a guest lecture is a good trial run, even if it’s a little out of your comfort zone.”

“Yeah.” He smiles, then begins to pour out the coffees. Each mug is almost identical- white or navy with some variation of the FBI logo on, but somehow he knows who’s is who’s, and leaves enough room for cream in cups that need it. “Which case would you choose?”

“For a guest lecture?” He nods. “Um…”

It’s difficult, while every case is important you know that a balance needs to be found in a case chosen for an Academy lecture- it can’t be too standard, it wouldn’t show off why your jobs are so important or might even struggle to keep the audience interested. But you can’t choose one of your worst cases either, some of them can be particularly heavy even for you all to think back on.

“Maybe the zodiac imitator?” You suggest with a shrug. “You can go through how you deduced it wasn’t the real zodiac, looking for messages in online articles, Garcia going through MENSA records, you could even talk about navigating all the reporters and public attention.”

“Y’know, I was thinking about that one.” He agrees and you tap his arm playfully. “The trainees always enjoy the imitator cases.”

“As much as you can enjoy this kinda thing, right?” You laugh humorlessly. Spencer knows everyone’s coffee preference off by heart, you know that, but it still makes you feel a little hot when he perfects your drink and holds it out to you.

“Maybe ‘interested in’ would be a better way to put it.” He corrects himself with a similar chuckle. You nod in agreement.

You both take a small moment to enjoy a sip of your drinks before taking the rest of the mugs to the members of your team- Morgan grins at Reid as he passes his mug, and JJ and Emily thank you when you bring their drinks too.

“What do you think,” JJ calls you by name. “Where would you go for a beach holiday?”

“Beach?” You say and laugh lightly. “Wherever Morgan’s not going.”

They both grin and laugh, and you hear Emily begin to say “Y’know I’ve seen those pictures of Morgan’s Jamaican resort…”

You head back to your own desk, you have Reid right in front of you and Morgan at a table across from you both, it makes for easy conversation and sharing of the sweet treats you bring in when you try to hide them from the rest of the team- more for you that way. Every so often you stop on your way to work and fill up a pick ‘n’ mix, you know by now that Spencer’s favourites are the chocolate jazzles and Morgan loves anything sour.

Emily shouts for Morgan to help her find a holiday destination, so he shakes his head playfully and taps you on the shoulder as he walks past you.

The coffee is perfect as you sip it, just slightly hot, not too sweet and not too strong. You cradle it between two hands as you step past your desk and stop in front of Spencer’s, leaning gently against the table. He looks up at you, mid sip, and raises his eyebrows to ask what you need from him.

“Can I see what you’ve been writing?” You ask innocently, pointing at the small brown book that sits central on his desk. A pen sticks out of the top of it to hold the page he was using, and he seems unusually shocked by your question.

You’re profilers, though Spencer is a surprisingly good liar, you have a feeling he wasn’t pondering a guest lecture for the Academy.

“There’s nothing important in there.” He shakes his head and instinctively goes to pull it out of reach.

“C’mon, Reid!” You giggle, putting your coffee cup down in a space on his desk. “I just wanna know what’s been keeping you occupied. You’ve been scribbling in it all afternoon, so secretively too.”

“I-I’m not-” He pauses, stuttering and puts his own mug down and out of reach before pulling the pen from between the pages of his notebook. He leaves the brown pad where it is. “being secretive, why do you want to see?”

“I’m just curious.” You say, bowing your head in apology. “I didn’t mean to pry, I’ll just leave you to it.”

“N-no, wait,” He stops you, seeing your small change in demeanour and immediately washing with guilt. Your body language changes just slightly, not quite closed off but a little less open and maybe a smidge of your own guilt for possibly upsetting him. He’s not upset, and he certainly does want you to be. “I’m sorry. I-I’m just, um,”

You turn back to him, offering another apologetic look. It’s not necessary, and he holds the notebook tightly in his hand, looking at it while he thinks. “Would you like to see?”

“Only if you want me to.”

“Why not?” He hums, gently passing the small brown book to you. You take it, just as gently, curling a finger into the gap created by the pen to hold the open page.

The brown book is worn on the edges, creased from opening so many times and his recent page is over half way through. You’ve seen him scribble in it frequently, and you’ve seen the way he slips it into his satchel at the end of the day- it’s important to him, you know that.

You open the page and it’s a drawing, a sketch in black biro. You’ve seen some of Reid’s drawings before- wavy lines, shrunken eyes and wiry hair, it’s his own unique style of illustration and you love his hidden passion for it. His drawings have been of imaginary characters, animals, even halloween decorations; they have a haunted aspect to them and you admire his talent for capturing the way he sees the world. This one is adorned with small wavy lines bouncing off the central figure.

“It’s-” This one you recognise, an unhidden smile and the shape of the hair. “-me. You drew me?”

“Um… yeah.” He smiles, but it doesn’t hide his nerves as he shifts in his chair while you look over the lines he’s made.

It’s today, you know the top you’re wearing today and one wiggly line for the chair you’ve been perched on. Your hair is styled as it is today, but you haven’t smiled so brightly today, you haven’t had the reason. That part, you realise, is from his memory. You like that he thinks of you as a happy person- the lines show that too, they add a bright, liveliness to the illustration of you.

There’s small flowers on the page adjacent- lavender, daisies, chrysanthemums, with what you assume is the scientific name underneath. They dot across the page like a printed pattern, but with the handwriting you know of Spencer all around. Underneath the drawing of you, though you’re not sure if it’s meant to describe both pages, it says “Beautiful”.

“Wow, Spence- I mean- Spencer,” You stutter over your words, grinning and feeling flushed at the thought of him spending his afternoon drawing you so dearly. “It’s amazing, you’re really good at art, y’know.”

“Thanks.” He replies sweetly, face unabashedly pink and smiling from ear to ear. “It’s um, really tempting to draw you when you’re sitting right across from me. I wanted to try and capture your smile but my drawings have given you more of a… haunting beauty.”

You don’t know what to say, still smiling and stuttering over nothing at all as you look over to him, to the drawing, then him again. His pride in his work makes his face light up in a way you rarely see on the job. “A-and Spence is fine, if you like.”

“Thanks for letting me see, Spence.” You say, dancing lightly around the last word, an affectionate nickname you know is only reserved for the special few. It feels good to be special to him. “I’ve never been very good at drawing.”

“I don’t think skill matters when you’re passionate about what you’re trying to recreate on the page.” He says with a simple smile, then bites down on his bottom lip to stop it from being too bright.

“You think so?” “Yeah.”

—

a/n: and just for funsies…

#writing #catching the other doing something cute prompts #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid prompts

[crushedsweets]

Can you draw or talk more about Toby and Eyeless Jack or even the X-Virus?

YESSSS i can. heres a lil doodle to get me started.

OKKKK the little concept in my head has slender's MAIN GOAL being to prevent any paranormal/supernatural stuff coming out to the general public. hence his proxies being made to get rid of tapes, evidence, and kill if Necessary. sometimes slender makes paranormal/supernatural ppl help out his human proxies "as payment for refuge" in his forest. SO that sorta explains how toby and jack know each other and why jack helps at all. he can't rlly go out to the public so he's stuck with these assholes. it's not really supposed to be a 'mansion' trope, moreso random cabins and shelters littered about the forest, but it could work in the mansion au too

Imma ramble abt toby n jacks friendship (in my head) under the cut + a random x virus doodle

as for toby and jack specifically. toby is impulsive, aggressive, can't feel pain, and doesn't know what's good for him, so he's forced to get help from jack a good bit. for a long while there was hella tension between them since, again, jack isn't helping these guys out of the goodness of his heart. he's helping them bc the forest their boss resides in is the only place he's relatively safe. jack has a weird mix of a inferiority and superiority complex, since he envies toby's humanity but also feels like he's 'better' due to toby's own . . violent habits. toby thinks jack is pretty cool from the get-go ('wooow ur grey..') but he gets pissed off with jack's questions and demands of 'DONT RIP UR FUCKING STITCHES' and 'u have a concussion don't fucking scroll on your phone for 5 hours a day'.

toby has no idea if these demands come from actual concern or annoyance, and frankly, neither does jack. regardless, toby's with jack a decent bit. partially since jack makes a lot of people really uncomfortable so it's easy to go hang out with jack when he doesnt wanna deal with anyone else but still wants company. eventually theyre capable of some decent banter and conversations. theyre both mamas boys so thats a very weird touchy topic that they kinda dance around but both feel very deeply and know the other relates. THEY MISS THEIR MOMS SO BADLY.. :( mayhaps one year toby helps drop off flowers to jack's moms house for mothers day. jacks way too ashamed to even get within a 10 mile radius of his mom. that's kinda the moment things really shift between them and they actually become friends.

toby also asks abt university. lyra was at community college until she passed, and toby never considered college as an option, so he gets curious on what he missed out on. he also likes to share stuff abt lyra and their old shenanigans. tim and brian have used his childhood against him multiple times before, and it's not like he's gonna trust ben or jeff with that information. jacks sort of like a void he could talk into. jack feels uneasy talking about his life before the sacrifice, since he misses it so unbelievably bad, but toby accidentally got him to talk about it while treating a burn before.

ok and to top this fucking essay off heres xvirus. i had no idea he existed until this year and someone sent me an ask about his updated design, so he's some scribbles for him :9 his concepts super cool tho so maybe ill get more into him later on

#THEYRE BEST FRIENDS UR HONOR... #but seriously thank u for the ask #i love getting to ramble. im still working on the confidence to just post headcanons unprompted LOL #ok i gotta go to class now byyeeeeeeee #eyeless jack #ticci toby #ticcijack #eyeless jack headcanon #ticci toby headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta art #creepypasta headcanon #xvirus #toby rogers #jack nyras #sweetart #chatterbox #creeped

[darkchocoboo]

To the etenity and back| Pedro Pascal

Pedro Pascal x pregnant!reader

Summary: Pregnant reader gets jealous at Pedro for calling the interviewer 'mama'. When Pedro realizes he runs a relaxing bath and gives a massage.

KIND OF ANGST MOSTLY FLUFF

SMUT MINORS STAY THE FUCK AWAY

cw: pregnant sex, angry sex, unprotected sex, Pedrito being a heartthrob, jealousy, pet names (sweetheart, baby, babygirl), No y/n used, no proofread

(I have no idea about yes or no's in pregnancy sex so everything might be wrong)

(It's just a quick scribble so)

He walked in with a tired sigh leaving his lips. His black sparkly jacket fly to somewhere whike he dropped next to you. Yo didn't bother to say a word as you're angry with him.

"Hi baby. How was your day?" He held your hand and kissed your knuckles, waiting for your response.

"I'm alright, mama." Words left your lips covered in poison. Your voice came out with so much disgust and hate he had to straighten himself on the couch.

"What's wrong baby?"

"I don't know Pedro. Maybe you should ask that to that chick you call "mama"." He was all confused now. You're never the type to make a deal out of such a small word but now you were all angry. He looked at you puzzled as you struggle to get up on your feet.

"Baby, you know it was nothing. Why so much anger?" You finally managed to get up. Stepping in the room with anger.

"I'm the one carrying your child here and you're out there calling other women mama. You stupid bitch." You put your hands on your swollen belly caressing the exposed skin with your fingertips.

"Your father is stupid, baby. I hope you don't take after him." You spoke to your unborn baby with a soothing voice.

He walked to you in the hotel room. You came to Canada for The Last of Us premiere but you didn't feel good enough to attend so you stayed at the hotel watching the interviews on your laptop.

You're normally okay with him flirting with other people but when you saw him calling the interviewer 'mama' snapped something inside. You kinda knew it was because you felt bad about leaving him alone in this important night but you couldn't keep your anger down. You were six months along in your pregnancy and your hormones was driving you crazy.

Pedro hugged you from behind. His big hands found your swollen belly. His lips leaving light kisses on the apex of your neck.

"I'm sorry babygirl. If it bothers you that much, I will never do it again. Can you forgive me, baby?"

His words and his lips on your skin melted you into his chest. Your head fell back to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. It's not me. It's the baby." He chuckled on your skin.

"I know. I know." His hands cupped your boobs thru the thin fabric of your shirt.

"How about I run a bubble bath for you, then a massage to relieve the stress, huh? Is it okay with you?"

"Yeah, I guess." You sat on the bed as you watched him strip out of his clothes to his briefs as he dissapeared into the bathroom. After a while he came out. Held your hand and walked you to bathroom.

"Let's get you naked." The bathroom was smelling like citrus and lavender. He took of the purple Lakers t-shirt you borrowed from him of your body. Then he took of your panties in a swift motion.

He sat on the edge of the bathtub as you get inside the perfect temp water.

"You need anything baby? Can I get you anything?" You shake your head signalling 'no'.

"Get in." He stripped out of his boxers and got in the tub. His hands slowly started to rub your back as he straddled you between his legs.

You melted into his touch immediately. Soft kisses on the small of your neck heated your skin. Teeth left small pecks on your soft skin.

"Babe," Your words melted into a moan. His hands cupped your already full breasts. Fingers rubbing the pebbled nipples.

"You're so gorgeous, sweetheart. Swollen with m'baby." You felt his cock press against your back. Getting harder as he kept kissing your body. You leaned against his chest. Your lower back trapping his lenght between the bodies. You started moving your hips to give him some more friction.

Pregnancy played with your hormones like a roller-coaster. You were either so angry or so sad, so happy or so anxious. And always horny. Whatever the situaiton was you always found something in Pedro to light a fire inside you. His big hand cupped your cunt under the water.

"You want me, my sweet babygirl? Hm?" You pressed yourself into his touch. Nodding in agreement.

"Words, baby."

"Yes, Pedro, please. I need you." He kissed you temple and left wet kisses to your jawline.

"Not in the water, cariño. Not good for you." He got up and lift you. You wrapped your legs around his waist as tight as your big belly allowed you to. Wrapped a towel around you as he lowered you on the bed.

"I love you, baby. Love of my life." He started kissing your neck and the place between your swollen breasts.

He found his place between your legs. Left sloppy kisses to your inner thighs. Hot breath hitting your wet core sent shivers to your body. As his lips wrapped around your clit you felt like your lungs was emptied out. He flattened his tongue on you. Licked your slit with long stripes.

His scruffy beard itched your thin skin.

"Pedro" He hummed over your clit as he kept ruinning you from between your legs. When his finger went inside your wet walls you clenched.

"Pedito, baby. I need you. Please."

He talked, his lips moving over your cunt.

"You need me baby? You need my cock?" You nodded but his warning popped on your mind.

"Yes, yes Pedro. Please, inside." He put another finger inside you.

"Let's get you ready, okay? I don't wanna hurt you." He pumped his fingers inside in a slow pace. His fingers curling to hit that spongy spot that made your toes curl.

"Keep going Pedro, I'm close." He kissed your clit again as his pace got faster enough to send lightning bolts to your head. Your eyes rolled back and sight got white with every thrust he burried his fingers to your wet hole. Your breaths got faster as your high washed over you. Your juice pooled between your legs,

"Pedro, I love you. I need you."

He got up to his feet, leaned over you. Pressed open mouthed kisses as his tongue met yours. Your taste on his mouth felt euphoric as the kiss got deeper.

He palmed himself and stroked few times to spread the precum on his lenght.

"I'll be slow baby." He rubbed his tip to your clit to collect some juices on it. When his tip got in he left a low groan hang in the air. He pushed himself more to your cunt.

"You alright, baby?" You nodded and hang onto his arms that was placed on each side of your head. He burried his head to your neck pecking and bruising the skin. He started pumping into you in a slow pace.

"You're so goos for me, baby. Always making me feel so good." Your walls squeezed his cock with praising coming out of his lips.

His hips pistoned into you. Wet sounds filling the big room as his moans got louder. He kissed every inch of your face.

“I love your big belly. It lets everyone know you’re mine. Filled with a piece of me. Lets everyone know that you’ll be connected to me till the last day. I’ll love you till my old heart stops.  There’s nobody else for me but you. Like your body is made for me.”

His mumbles against your ear gave you goosebumps. He was drunken in your scent and your sight. His thrusts got deeper and reached delicious spots inside your soaked cunt.

You new every word just came out of his plushed lips was true. He was speaking with his heart not his mind at that moment. Tears filled your eyes knowing how much he loved you, and you were sure he was gonna love the baby as much.

“It’s made for you, Pedrito. I’m made for you. Just you.” You cupped his cheeks as his moves got messy. He locked his eyes with yours. Your lips meet in hunger. He never broke the kiss as your highs grew together. He never slowed his pace.

His lips twitched over yours.

"Cumming, babygirl." He talked on your lips.

"Me too, baby." His teeth caught your bottom lip as his white thick cum painted your walls. As you cummed at the same time as him. Your walls clenched on his cock, milking him to the last drop.

"I love you, cariño. I love you and our baby." He fell beside you while he's still inside you.

"I love you too, Pedrito. To the eternity and back."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x pregnant!reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x yn

[avenging-fandoms]

okay but imagine being pedro's wife/baby mama and staying at home with the kids while he's away filming or at events (like the met gala). and then the house feeling full when he returns. maybe you're in the yard with the kids when he gets home and the kids run up to him all excited to have their daddy back :,)

It had been 10 months of phone calls, FaceTimes and watching Pedro on the tv. Your 4 year old, Eliana and 9 month old, Isaac, were desperately missing their dad and so were you. Taking care of them both was a hassle and a half, but thankfully you weren't alone.

Sarah and Oscar both offered, as well as some of your friends to watch your babies on occasion, and you accepted every time. They made missing Pedro and doing it without him so much easier.

“Ellie, would you like to go outside?” It was 75 outside and the perfect weather to just breathe. You grabbed a blanket and some toys, their waters and your sunglasses. You laid out the blanket and opened the porch umbrella, Eliana grabbing chalk from her toy box and drawing on the stone path.

"Mama, I found a worm!" She squeals and you smile, nodding as you bounce Isaac. She continues to draw and you put on some Raffi on the speaker, singing along to 'Down By The Bay' as Isaac watched you with a smile. "Can I draw in the driveway, Mama?"

"Yes, please do not go near the road my sweet girl."

"Okay Mama!" She grabbed her chalk and dirtied her shirt, setting them down gently and scribbling a picture. You were amazed at how smart and wonderful Ellie was and you loved your children more than anything.

A car honks from down the street rapidly and Eliana looks at you and runs to you, clinging to your side. You smile at the license plate, kissing her head and laughing as you tell her she's okay.

Eliana watches the car pull into the driveway and her face lights up. "Daddy!" She screams and he swings his door open, Eliana moving her little feet as fast as they could into her dad's arms.

Pedro engulfed his daughter in his arms, falling out of his squat to a roll on his back in the lawn as he kissed his daughter's face. "Mi princesa, I missed you so much mí amor."

"I missed you too!" She giggles and you stand up as they sit up. "Mama missed you too." Pedro stood up, a smirk on his face as he held eye contact.

"And I missed Mama." He smiles and wraps his arm tightly around you, right hand on Eliana's head as he kissed you. "My goodness." He breathed and kissed you over and over, slightly dipping you and you laugh.

"I missed you too, Pedro." His eyes fell to Isaac and he wanted to cry. “He missed you the most.”

Pedro started to cry as he took his son in his arms. “He’s so big now.” He cried, and your heart broke. “I missed him getting bigger.”

Pedro’s voice was broken. He sat on the grass and Eliana went over to Pedro, rubbing his back with her head on his shoulder. “Are you okay, Daddy?”

“I’m alright, sweetheart. I just missed you guys so much.” You sat on the other side of him and laid your head on his shoulder, which only made him cry harder.

“I’m sorry, Pedro. I sent you a bunch of photos and videos and FaceTimed you so you missed nothing.”

“But I did, Yn. I can’t do this again.” He cried and you looked at him, nodding. “I missed so much with you and my children, I left you with a month old baby and a 4 year old. I’m a bad dad and husband.”

“You work for your family, Pedrito. You are not a bad dad or husband, so knock it off with that.”

Pedro sniffled as he held his son’s head in his hands, rubbing his thumb over his son’s cheek. “He’s so beautiful.”

“He looks just like you, Pedro.” You smile and kiss his cheek. He looks at you and kisses you softly.

“Eeeewwww!” Eliana exclaims and you laugh, grabbing her from behind Pedro and tickling her while giving her kisses and she giggled.

Pedro looked at you playing with Ellie and his eyes welled again. He didn’t want to miss another one of these beautiful memories. He waited his whole life for these moments, and he’ll never let them slip away ever again.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal blurbs #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #rpf #real person fiction #dad!pedro #dad!pedro pascal

[yours-mythically]

The Chronicles of Chaos and Cuddles: Oh no! The Cookies!

Both you and mama don't know how to cook, but thank god for mommy. She can cook amazing meals that always taste good. Your favorite? Her famous pancakes! It didn't matter what kind of pancakes - blueberry, chocolate, banana - they always taste good.

Today mommy wasn't home, she had some business to attend to, according to her. So you and mama decided to have a fun day, to try and distract yourselves and not cry about mommy being away (which you said was something that you would never ever do).

"And up we go!" Natasha said, exaggerating a groan as she lifted you onto the kitchen island.

"We bake, mama?" You asked, reaching out to touch her necklace.

"Yes, baby. We're gonna bake delicious chocolate chip cookies just like mommy makes them. See, I even got her to tell me the recipe," Natasha told you, holding up a piece of paper, where she scribbled down some stuff that Wanda told her.

"Yay!" You cheered. You'd think mama was usually the super strict one, but if it's about cookies, it's always mommy. She only allows you no more than a cookie a day, so this was like winning the jackpot.

"Okay, baby. You sit here and look pretty, hm?" Natasha said, putting you next to the sink.

At first it didn't go terribly, until Natasha accidentally dropped a pack of flour. She said she'd clean it later and continued making the dough. When it was done, she put it into a bowl and let you sprinkle some chocolate chips in there. You being you, of course put every single chip from the packaging in there. Something that Nat was about to get angry at, but when she saw your cute, innocent face looking up to her, she simply kissed your cheek.

"And now we wait." Natasha said picking you up again. She spun your around before walking to the living room and sitting on the couch with you in her lap.

"What do you wanna watch, detka?" Mama asked, taking the remote.

"Booey!" You yelled.

"Bluey?" Natasha asked and you yelled again, answering her question.

While you happily watched the show, Nat slowly but surely fell asleep, with you still on her lap.

You watched happily, telling mama about the show, but not realizing that she was sleeping. When you smelled the delicious scent of the cookies enter your nose, you turned around and shook her.

"Mama! Mama! Cookies!" You said loudly, touching her cheeks.

Natasha woke up with a groan and checked her phone, eyes widening. She put you on the couch and rushed to the kitchen, immediately opening the oven and getting greeted by a cloud of smoke.

Natasha put on some oven mitts and took out the batch of cookies that now looked like piles of coal.

"Mama?" You asked, wobbling into the kitchen.

"Yes, detka?"

"No cookies?"

"No, baby, no cookies,"

Moral of the story, don't fall asleep with your child while baking something.

#marvel #the avengers #natasha romanoff #yours-mythically #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #platonic #mama nat #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader

[dearest-painter]

hi!! I’m the Valentino daughter anon, this is getting really long to type so it’s gonna be 🚬🎀 because I’m lazy.

what about The reader trying to get her dad to like her when she still lived with him by trying to be like him? Kinda like that one scene from bojack horseman where Bojack tries to smoke his mom’s cigarette and the scene ends with Beatrice saying “I’m punishing you for being alive” because angst has been in my head recently and I don’t know why.

anywho, thank you for not thinking my idea is annoying or weird, and also thank you for not being annoyed with my spamming because my info dumping has been nonstop<3333

PLEASE KEEP SPANMING ME VAL DAUGHTER ANON! PLEASE! I LOBE BEING SPAMMED!!!! DONT STOP >:[

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship, Valentino’s BITCH ass, no real yandere behavior but still Yandere AU, tell me if I need to add more

Summary: You had a dream again…it had Valentino…it’s been like this for weeks

You knew this was a dream…because this took place in the past. You sighed. This one reoccurred so often that you just go through it to make it stop. Getting up from the spot you where sitting in you grabbed the drawing as you walked down the hall. It always seemed so long when walking. You looked down at the drawing. It was a scribble of you and Valentino smiling, but not holding hands. You were beside him and holding a bucket that said ‘Tips for dad’ and Valentino was smiling as he held money in his hands.

He always seemed so happy when he had money…or anything or anyone else around him yet he seemed disinterested whenever you were around. You remember wishing to someone that he would finally love you for once. You wanted it so deeply. Before your mama and dad came around, you begged for Valentino’s love. A little part of you still does.

You finally reached the door. ‘Valentino’s office’ You sighed as you knocked on the door then meekly said. “Dad…it’s me…can I come in?” You waited…and waited until you heard a groan. That always meant yes so you entered, with your head down staring at the drawing. You didn’t wanna risk seeing one of Angel Dust’s coworkers in there, while they were pretty and cared for you..you didn’t wanna risk seeing them in their most vulnerable time..you know that whenever a worker enters here their vulnerable.

“Here you go dad” You softly said as you put the drawing on his desk. You could hear him snatching it. “Do you like it?” You softly asked. You heard him mumble something under his breath. If you were to look up you’d see him shaking his head and rolling his eyes. “Yeah sure” he said in an annoyed tone. You knew he hated it but that little part of you felt happy that he said he liked it. “Now I got work to do. Go play with those toys” he said as he waved his hand. “Can…can I hangout with Angel Dust?” You softly asked.

He thought about it then shrugged as he pushed you out his office. “Sure, I don’t care. I’m busy so don’t bother me okay sweetie?” He said in an annoyed tone. He hates calling you that. But you were happy, you got some love from him. Smiling widely you headed towards Angel Dust, this was always your favorite part of your dream. Going to play with mama.

#✉️mail arrived✉️ #genderfluid enity answers! #Valentino’s daughter!reader #Valentino daughter!reader #yandere #please don’t do this #obession #unhealthy #platonic yandere #yandere platonic #fem reader #yandere hazbin hotel #female reader

[oddballwriter]

Mama's Boy

Summary: You and Marc's son has a specific attachment to you. And Marc couldn't be any happier. 

Warnings: Fem!Reader with she/her pronouns. The canon childhood trauma that Marc has is in the air but is not fully mentioned. This is a mix of fluff and angst all at once. The system is mentioned but Marc is the focus of this one shot.

Author’s Snip: I'm not crying. YOU'RE crying! *is in fact crying*

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 526

It was normal. It was even mentioned in the child development and behavior book that Steven got to prepare them for being dads.

"Beginning around the toddler age, your child will create an intense attachment to one of the parents where they will want constant interaction, contact, attention, and affirmation from the parent. This phase is better known as your daughter being a "daddy's girl" or for your son to be a "mama's boy". This is normal and we highly encourage you to invite these behaviors while also establishing boundaries so that this phase and behavior remain healthy."

And weren't you and Aaron just the image of that.

Marc wasn't jealous that Aaron had an attachment to you instead of him. He was actually very happy to see the two of you have that special connection. It just... gets him, a bit.

Aaron often changes the way he acts when he's feeling different emotions. Of course he does, he's only six years old and his little body can only handle one emotion at a time like most children do. But when he was feeling sad or upset, it was the most obvious. Aaron was very chatty, which is, again, normal for most children, though the rest of the system and you joke that he got it from Steven. But when he was sad, Aaron would hardly say a word. Only really talking when he's asked something or called.

When his dads would ask what was wrong, he'd just shrug it off. But when you asked, he'd open right up.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" you asked, crouching down to be leveled with him. "I just feel sad." Aaron mumbled as he slowly scribbled on the paper in front of him. "That's it?" you ask gently, to which Aaron just nods. "That's okay," you respond tenderly. "Would you like a hug?" you offer. Aaron glances at you for a moment before nodding and moving in for the hug. You act accordingly and give him a gentle yet still firm hug, with your arms wrapping around him, making him look comedically small.

You keep him there for a moment before asking "Do you feel better yet?", still holding him but when he says yes and pulls away, you let go of him.

"If you ever feel upset for any reason you can just ask Mama or any of your daddies for a hug, okay?" you confirm as you fix any of the wrinkles on his clothes and loose strands that the hug may have made. Aaron nods with a smile.

You actually stay with him for a bit. And it was almost like Aaron was never sad in the first place, he was talking away just like normal.

Marc didn't mean to stare. He really didn't, but it was just so sweet to see you two interact like that. That your son was attached to you and saw you as a beacon of comfort and support and that you accepted that role and responsibility. Marc, along with Steven and Jake, were glad that Aaron was a mama's boy and that he had the ability to be such with you.

#moonknight #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader

[ac3may]

Worst Fears (Sam Kerr x Williamson!Reader)

So in honour of the Conti Cup Final here’s a little something I scribbled down on my bus ride home from LDN yesterday. Hopefully, this pleases the reds and the blues. 

As always let me know your thoughts, constructive criticism’s always welcome.

Part 1 | Part 2

Words: 3.3k

Edited

Masterlist

Lips pressing softly to your forehead is the sensation you wake to. Quickly rolling closer to the open arms of your girlfriend of eight years, clinging to her warmth as the chill of the morning hits you. 

“Good morning beautiful,” the gentle whisper brings a smile to your face as she continues to pepper kisses to the crown of your head. You snuggle further into her neck, pressing light kisses to her the skin you find. 

“Mornin’,” your voice comes out as more of a mumble as you keep yourself tight to Sam. The pair of you basking in the rare silence which the early hour had cast over your shared home. 

Suddenly you’re hit with the realities of the day and groan out.

“I can’t believe it’s already derby day. Again!”

The dismay lacing your tone earns a chuckle from the Aussie who squeezes you tighter. “I thought it was your favourite day of the season baby?” She asks mockingly, pressing a kiss to your lips in silent empathy.

With your wife a professional football player for Chelsea it seems obvious that they would be the team you want to win every championship and every cup. However growing up on the red side of London the Derby days are not a favourite for you, especially when your younger sister plays for Arsenal. 

“Ha. Ha.” You deadpan in reply, “your favourite day you mean!” Leaning up to catch her lip between your teeth, applying a little more pressure than necessary.

“Ow!” Is the instantaneous response. You know you’re in for it immediately when a smirk spreads across her face and before you can process the moment you’re on your back, Sam hovering over you. “You’re gonna regret that,” the sultry traces in her voice cause your heart to flutter. 

“Oh am I?” You ask pulling your lower lip between your teeth as you admire the scattering of freckles across your loved ones tanned skin and the deep chestnut eyes staring back at you. 

“Uh-huh,” is the response hummed into your skin as Sam presses her lips to yours again. Your hand reaches to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck. The other runs gently along her spine before halting on her lower back and pulling her closer. 

Sam continues her kisses pressing them further down your neck, reaching up to pull at the collar of your (her) t-shirt when- 

“Mama!” “Mama!” 

“Mummy! Wake up!”

The shouts of your children bring the moment to a screeching halt. Matching sighs release from the two of you as Sam drops her forehead to rest on yours.

You squeeze your girlfriend’s ass with a final cheeky smirk and a whisper, “sorry babe.” Navigating yourself from under her, to face your three toddling children. 

“Good morning my babies!” You greet with a bright smile, your 7-year-old, Marlee, is the first to reach you. She dives into your arms, clinging tightly to your neck as she bounces excitedly on your lap. “We get to watch Mama and Auntie Lee play today!” Despite attending every Chelsea home game and many of the away fixtures your daughter has a special love for derby days, quite the opposite of you.

“Mama play!” Your youngest, Ari, babbles with a joyful clap of his hands, Sam having lifted him and your younger daughter onto the bed. 

“That’s right baby, Mama’s gonna play.” you grin softly, encouraging his speech.

“And we’re gonna be wearing blue, right bug?” Sam asks, cuddling your middle child into her lap.

“Yes!” Luka grins brightly up at her mother, “pride of London!” The 5-year-old announces.

“Boo!” Ari exclaims in unknowing excitement, throwing his hands in the air at the sound of one his favourite colours.

Sam grins brightly, tickling his belly as she directs her gaze towards our eldest, “what about you Mars?” She asks, hope shining in her eyes.

The speed at which Marlee shakes her head has you leaning back to avoid her hair whipping you in the face. “Nuh-uh! You know London’s red Mama!” She announces with certainty.  

You watch Sam deflate, despite having known the answer your daughter would give. You reach out and brush your fingers with hers, offering all the subtle comfort you can.

This was another tough part of derby days for you. Sam was still signed to Chicago when Marlee joined your family meaning Amanda, Leah and yourself had spent years encouraging her into supporting Arsenal. By the time Sam signed with Chelsea she was as full Gooner as a she could be at four, Leah being an unrelenting influence in continuing to enforce the love. However, by the time Luka was old enough to comprehend the concept Sam’s move to Chelsea was well-known meaning your youngest girl was raised surrounded by blue. It became the most common cause of arguments between your girls. Ari, at two, is still too young to understand the meaning of either colour and if given the choice would pick the bright green and gold of Australia from the collection of shirts folded in his drawers.

After a few more minutes of family cuddles and the chaos of breakfast with three kids seven and under Sam announces, “Okay, I have to get going.” She blows raspberry kisses on each of the kid's cheeks before sending them off to enjoy their weekend tv allowance. 

Tanned arms wrap around your waist as you close the dishwasher. Spinning, you bring your own to rest around her neck, pulling her closer. “Good luck babe,” you whisper against her lips.

Pressing her lips to yours you feel them turn upwards, pulling apart slowly you see the grin resting on her face. “Thank you, baby, I can’t wait to see the purple you choose!” She teases with a tug on the hem of her Chelsea hoodie, which you had thrown on to combat the cold after climbing out of bed. 

You roll your eyes, your choice to only wear purple rather than pick a team on derby days becoming a running joke within your family. You push at her chest lightly, knocking her away from you, only causing a bigger grin to spread on the Aussie’s face. 

“I’m teasing love!” She insists, pulling you close again. “For real, please try not to stress today.” As your eyes meet you can see the concern floating through hers, “remember Amanda’s there if you need any help. Or if Mars starts getting too rowdy.” Knowing the passion instilled in your eldest you nod at her words. Sam makes you promise to let your mum help you out before she releases you with one last peck. 

“Kids, come and say good luck to Mama!” You call out as your girlfriend pulls her puffer coat over her tracksuit. Unsurprisingly Marlee is the first to crash into Sam’s legs, arms wrapping tightly around her thighs. 

“Good luck Mama! I know London is red but I still really, really want you to play well!” Despite her Williamson commitment to Arsenal your eldest’s love for her Mama is never outdone. The sight brings a smile to your face. 

“G’luck Mama!” Luka is the next to cling to Sam’s legs her beaming smile making up for her lacking vocabulary. 

“Thank you, Mars, thank you Lu-Lu,” the mother expresses to her daughters, returning their cuddles with strokes to their backs. 

Ari storms into the group hug soon after, almost knocking all three girls off their feet with the force of his run. Sam just chuckles at the impact, “you’d be a great Aussie Rules player, huh little man.” She grins ruffling his blonde curls, receiving nothing but a toothy smile in response. 

“Okay, Mama really has to go now!” You insist with a glance into the kitchen and towards the clock on the wall. 

“Yeah, yes. Mummy’s right. Okay, be good for mummy, hey kiddos?” Reviving three bobbing heads in response Sam grins and leans down to peck them each on the forehead, “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “And I love you!” Kiss. 

“Don’t forget Mummy!” Luka declares loudly, as Sam returns to full height with a gasp and feigns offence.

“I could never forget mummy!” She responds a hand raising to her chest as if your daughter had accused her of something horrific. Turning to you the act drops and her words are sincere as she speaks, “I love you.” With a final kiss, you’re sending her out the door, earning a hearty laugh as you swat at her bum on the way. 

“Marlee you can’t wear shorts to the game! You’re going to get cold!” You had dressed your two youngest: Luka in Chelsea training joggers, her Kerr 20 home jersey and a training jacket, and Ari in his choice of a Matilda’s jersey, Chelsea anthem jacket and a pair of cargo sweatpants. However, your eldest has dressed in a full replica Arsenal home kit, dawning Williamson 6 across her back and you had spent the past 5 minutes engaging in negotiations to get her into a jacket and trousers. You knew letting her leave the house in her current attire meant she would be complaining of the cold before kick-off.

“Yes, Mummy! I can!” She declares stubbornly, “Auntie Leah and Mama will be in shorts,” she argues. 

Letting out an exasperated sigh your response is cut off by a knock at the door. Jumping up and running from where he had been playing with Duplo blocks on the living room floor Ari presses his face to the glass of the living room window. “Who is it bubba?” You ask, rising to your feet to answer the knock.

With a sharp gasp, the little boy begins bouncing on his feet in excitement as he stumbles over his words, “Nana!”

A rush of cool spring air hits you as you open the door, coming face to face with your mum, you greet her with the best smile you can muster but can’t even get a word out before little limbs are entwining around her body. Making eye contact over the heads of the children you both chuckle as you usher her inside.

After welcoming Amanda and settling a cup of tea in her hands you return to your earlier issue with your eldest daughter, “Marlee!” You shout calling her into the kitchen where you sat.

Now with Arsenal-branded football socks rolled just below her knees, she slides into the room, across the tiled floor, barely managing to stay on her feet.

“I know Mama and Auntie Leah will be in shorts, my love, but they will also be running around the pitch for ninety minutes. Now I would like you to go and pick a change of clothes.” You’re insistent and your dwindling patience is evident. 

A huff is what you receive in response as she pouts, aggressively crossing her arms and stomping her foot into the ground. “Nana! Tell Mummy she’s wrong!” Her demanding tone is met with a matching raise of eyebrows from both you and your mother. 

“Marlee May Williamson-Kerr, watch your tone.” You warn, your own arms crossing. You see your daughter's resolve drop slightly as you announce her full name, Amanda coming to the rescue before any tears or shouting began.

“Marlee darling your Mummy’s right. How about you show me your collection and I’ll help you choose a proper Gooners outfit?” Immediately Marlee’s face brightens, and before you know it she’s tugging on Amanda’s hand and dragging her from the room. You send a grateful smile towards your mum, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’. She simply shakes her head in response, as if it were no big deal.

After several hours of Amanda fawning over you and her grandchildren later, you find yourself herding the three kids into the friends and family section of the stadium. You’re perfectly on time as Luka is immediately jumping from the seat you had just settled her in when the loudspeakers announce the teams making their way to the pitch for warm-ups.

“Mama! Mama! Millie! Ez! Mama!” She is quick to shout towards her favourite blue-clad players as they jog onto the pitch. Like a superhero, Sam always seems to detect your children in the crowd, or perhaps she just always knows they’ll be shouting for her. Either way, she is quick to lift her head in your direction sending over a smile and wave.

Minutes later the reds claim their half of the pitch, this time Marlee’s shouts are the ones attracting the attention. First of her little brother, who joins her calls, and next of your younger sister as the pair of them continue yelling in Leah’s direction.

Watching your sister light up at the sight of your little family supporting her from the stands briefly relieves you of your stresses of the day and a smile settles on your own face. 

Kick-off came around with minimal complaints from your three littles, especially once Amanda had returned from hospitality bar with baby chinos, hot chocolates, and chips for them. Once the whistle blew however you were thrown into an even tenser game than you had imagined.

Within two minutes you are on your feet cheering as Sam headers a ball under the crossbar, Luka and Ari share a little dance in celebration. Marlee even forgets herself for a moment, hopping excitedly from her seat before quickly returning and glancing around hoping no one had seen the display. Chuckling lightly to yourself, you pull Ari onto your lap not expecting to find yourself as on the edge of your seat as you would be for the upcoming 88 minutes.

It was no secret that Arsenal had been the underdogs coming into the game, particularly after Chelsea knocked them out of the FA Cup the weekend prior but they certainly came out with a point to prove, searching for vengeance. The halftime whistle blows moments after Niamh Charles accidentally knocks in an own goal, bringing the score line to 3-1, Arsenal ahead.

Caught in a mix of emotions you can’t decide between being pleased for your childhood club and sister, or absolutely gutted for your girlfriend as you catch her distraught expression after every denied opportunity. The mixture of red and blue in your stands don’t help as the halftime boredom leads Marlee to entertain herself by antagonising her younger sister.

Luckily for you, it’s at that moment when Beth Mead and Vivianne Miedema hobble their way through the stands towards your clan. “Hey, kiddos! You enjoying the game?” 

Unfortunately, the second half is no less tension-filled than the first, you spend the whole time on the edge of your seat as the ball ping-pongs across the pitch. Chelsea begins creating more chances for themselves but can’t seem to capitalise on them, keeping the scoreline static and Arsenal, despite being in a seemingly comfortable lead, have to stay vigilant to keep it that way.

Several yellow cards later the final whistle blows you can’t decide whether you want to sigh in disappointment or cheer in glee.

Marlee is immediately on her feet, jumping into Amanda’s arms, red flag waving high and proud. While Luka slumps down into her seat, arms crossing grumpily across her chest and her pouted lip making an appearance. Ari is blissfully unaware and happy to bounce on your lap having spent the majority of the half distracted by the wooden trains you had brought.

You join in with the claps of the crowd, not as beside yourself as you should be for the end of a four-year trophy drought for your home team but pride for your younger sister shining through. You watch as Sam and Leah find each other on the pitch and two of your favourite people exchange words followed by a hug. A gentle hand coming to rest on your own you turn your head up to meet the sympathetic gaze of your mother, no words that need to be exchanged. She’s quickly dragged away by your dancing child dressed in red and white.

Turning to the upset 5-year-old beside you, a smile is automatic to your face, contrasting her obvious disappointment but you can’t help it as you take in the cuteness of her scrunched nose and pouted lips.

“Hey Ari,” capturing the attention of the toddler in your arms, “can you help me cheer Lu-Lu up? Make her smile?”

Despite probably not understanding the full meaning of your words his attention is immediately on his older sister, chubby arms reaching out for a cuddle. Leaning yourself forward so he can reach it becomes a group hug, your fingers reaching out to tickle at Luka’s sides until the adorable sounds of her giggles reach your ears.

“How about we go see Mama, hey Lu-Lu?” Rapidly nodding her head she jumps from your hold and grabs your hand instead. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Marlee still safe with Amanda, so you let your youngest two lead you closer to the pitch. 

Reaching the barrier separating you from the grass, you watch on as the team in blue forms their post-game huddle. While you prop the kids up to sit on the barrier, a secure arm around each of them.

Your attention falls on the gathered group of celebrating players and a prideful smile finds its way to your face as you take in the celebrations and how much it obviously means to the Arsenal, eyes falling on Leah in particular, as they set off on a run across the pitch. 

The little voice beside you brings your gaze back to Chelsea and you see the group break apart, “Mama! Mama!” Heading first towards the bench to collect her coat, the sight of two of your children is enough to bring the faintest of smiles to your girlfriend's face. Arriving in front of you it’s evident how much the past few hours have drained Sam but taking Ari into her arms she manages to summon enough energy to match your children. 

“Hi gorgeous,” you greet gently, able to grant her a soft peck before Luka is demanding attention.

“Mama! You scored a goal! It was so exciting! Marlee was even jumping! I’m sorry you lost though, that made me sad. Are you sad?” Listening to the blunt ramblings of your daughter somehow seems to distract Sam briefly from her disappointment with the result as she lets out a laugh. 

“I’m a little sad,” your partner confirms.

“It’s okay Mama when we lose it means we learnt more,” the confidence and certainty in the 5-year-old’s tone are obvious and neither of you can help the proud smile you share above her head. 

Squeezing the girl in your arms you agree encouragingly, “that’s right Lu-Lu!” You’re about to continue your conversation when a small body barrels into Sam, a flash of red becoming clear as she steadies herself, eyes wide. 

“HI MAMA! You played good. I’m sorry you lost even though I’m secretly a little bit happy!” Bobbing her head up from where she had initially buried herself in the striker's torso, Marlee’s brown hair is running wild, eyes shining with joy.

Before any of you have a chance to speak further you’re again cut off. This time by Ari’s baby babbles as he begins making grabby hands over Sam’s shoulder. Your attention shifting to where his has fallen, you lock eyes with Leah as she parts herself from her team, heading towards your little family.

Joining you the first thing Leah does is greet and take hold of her nephew who is on the edge of falling from Sam’s grip with his wiggling efforts to reach her.

“Hey Y/N/N! Hi Lu-Lu.” Her words are joined by the unwavering smile on her face and you can’t help but grin back at her. Nudging her hip into Sam’s who had since bundled Luka into her arms as you attempt to help Marlee sit on the barrier between you, and she jests, “no hard feelings, ay Kerr?”

With a roll of her eyes, you can see Sam can’t help the sister-like pride which springs in her as she says, “nah, course not.” 

Watching the scene featuring all your favourite people you can’t help but think maybe derby days weren’t the worst of your fears. The world cup might be a different story though…

(Can’t lie this is firstly far longer than I expected it to become and secondly not how I initially wanted to end it. But let me know if you’d be interested in a Kerr family series because the amount of ideas that sprung to mind writing this is insane.)

#sam kerr x reader #sam kerr imagine #leah williamson imagine #chelsea #chelsea women #arsenal #arsenal women #woso imagine #woso x reader

[rubysunnday]

Would I run off the world someday?

summary: the urge to run away sometimes becomes utterly unavoidable

It was a quiet, cloudy afternoon in the Kent countryside. The wisteria clinging to the outside walls of Aubrey Hall occasionally danced as the wind swept over it. After the chaotic first few weeks of the season, a sense of calm had finally arrived as the endless invites slowed down. There was always an inevitable lull a few weeks into the season - the ton tended to forget how exhausting attending ball after ball was. 

And, for the first time in a while, there was harmony in the drawing room of Aubrey Hall. Benedict and Colin sat on a sofa, both drawing into their sketchbooks. Colin was finishing up a sketch he’d started out in Greece, one that depicted the ruins of the former temples, whilst Benedict swept the page with his charcoal, trying to draw Y/N as she sat on the sofa opposite, embroidering a bunch of honeysuckle. Daphne sat next to her, quietly embroidering the Basset family crest.

Anthony was sitting at his table, completely engrossed in that morning’s newspaper. Gregory sat opposite him, concentrating on his latin, carefully writing down each word with his quill. Eloise and Hyacinth sat at the other table, both quietly munching on the tray of cakes the cook had sent up whilst reading the latest edition of Lady Whistledown. Francesca was sitting at the piano, scribbling away at her sheet music with a pencil.

A comfortable silence had settled over the siblings as they all went about their own business. 

“Now, Y/N, darling, I’ve invited the Earl of Shaftesbury to dine with us on Friday when we return to London,” Violet announced, walking into the drawing room. She was holding several letters, all with different crests stamped into their wax seals. 

Y/N looked up, holding her needle between two fingers. “Who?”

Violet paused and looked down at her. “The Earl of Shaftesbury,” she repeated, raising her eyebrows expectantly. “You danced with him just last week at the Cowper Ball.”

Y/N turned her head and looked at Daphne. “I did?” She whispered, leaning over to her sister.

Daphne leant in. “Third dance of the night. He was wearing a dark blue coat and introduced himself as Francis.”

“Oh, the earl,” Y/N said, sitting up right and nodding. “Did you invite anyone else? Perhaps Elisabeth Jordan might like to join us as well - she’s been to Greece too, Colin.”

“No, just the earl,” Violet replied, smiling. She was clearly up to something, Y/N knew that. “I thought it might be good for the two of you to get to know one another better.”

There it was.

Y/N said nothing, turning back to her embroidery with a sigh. It was her mother’s mission to see each one of her children happily married and expecting a child of their own within a year of that marriage. She struggled to accept the fact that some people just weren’t meant to be married. Or that some people may not want children. It was perfectly reasonable - there would be rumours swirling around about why but they would fade soon enough.

“Oh, Y/N, dear, don’t give me that look,” Violet said, turning to face her daughter. “I’m doing this for you!”

“I danced with him once, mama.”

“He’s an excellent match! He’s intelligent, kind and would be advantageous for you!” Violet folded the letters back up again. “I expect you to be there and I expect you to sit next to him and make polite conversation.”

“Mama -”

“No, Y/N. I’ve given you plenty of time to make the first move yourself. We’re four weeks into the season and you have had endless callers but you have not followed up with a single one.”

Y/N set aside her embroidery hoop and turned to face her mother. She wasn’t in the mood to be berated. “Has it ever occurred to you, mother, that perhaps I don’t want to get married yet? That, maybe, I don’t want to have children either?”

Everyone in the room froze. No one dared to raise their heads or even make eye contact with one another. Anthony risked a glance up and over at his sister, silently proud of her for making a stand, whilst also knowing the conversation was inevitably about to get nasty. 

Violet blinked. She blinked again. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” Y/N sat up, sitting on the edge of the sofa, “what if I am quite content to simply… entertain myself for the foreseeable future? I do not understand why my future has to depend on my making an advantageous match. I am perfectly happy as I am right now.”

“That may be so, dear, but you cannot expect to be that way forever!” Violet laughed but there was no humour in it.. “Eventually, like all of us, you will move out to live with your husband.”

“But what if I do not want to get married?”

“You do not have a choice, Y/N,” Violet grounded out. “It is what is expected of you.”

“Yet, it isn’t expected of the men,” Eloise chimed in, keeping her eyes focused on Whistledown.

“There are rules for men and rules for women and whilst I agree that it is unfair, that is the hand we have been dealt,” Violet continued, barely sparing Eloise a glance. 

Y/N looked at her mother. “I understand that. But why do I have to get married this season?” She sighed. “I just want a year to adjust to everything because, despite the preparation, there is a lot I was not prepared for.”

“The longer you wait, the harder it becomes,” Violet continued, refusing to back down. “Besides, if you get married this year, next year you can enjoy the season with your children.”

“And if I don’t want children?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N, of course you want children.”

“I don’t want children,” Eloise called.

“Eloise,” Violet warned, glaring at her. She looked back at Y/N. “Children are a part of life, dearest. The joy of building your own family is second to none.”

“But what if I don’t want to,” Y/N tried again. “I have no interest in having any of my own, mama. I have no need to!”

“Your husband would disagree,” Violet said firmly, clearly indicating that the conversation was over. “I will hear no more of this. The earl is coming next week and you will try your hardest to win him over.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows and huffed a sigh out. She stood up and brushed past her mother, pulling open the drawing room door and disappearing out of it without a word.

Anthony sighed, folding his newspaper shut. “I’ll go,” he grumbled, following after his sister.

Y/N almost ran down the stairs, as desperate to get away as she was. She took a corner sharply and bumped into a maid, nearly knocking her into a nearby table. 

As she stormed into the stables, the stable hand looked a little alarmed but said nothing, hurrying out of her way. Y/N’s horse was already saddled up. Before her mother had ruined her afternoon, she had been planning on going out for a ride with her brothers.

She was still going to do that - just a little faster and with less care about how she looked afterwards. 

Y/N swung up onto her horse and gathered the reins into her hands, squeezing with her knees to urge her horse onwards. She tightened the reins and as they emerged out of the stables and past the back door, they were almost at a canter.

Anthony stepped out the back door as Y/N rode past, her horse clearly responding to its riders' need to run away and fast. He swore softly and ran down to the stables, snatching his horse's reins from the stablehand and swinging his leg up and over.

He urged his horse on and soon he too was cantering out the stables and down the path that led into the woods. Y/N was just too far ahead of him which made it difficult to catch up, especially when she was clearly encouraging her horse to ride flat out.

Y/N was oblivious to her frantic older brother chasing after her. The adrenaline rushing through her veins drowned at any and all thoughts she had of her future - the uncertainty around her life and who she would end up with. It drowned out the all consuming feeling of knowing you had no control over anything and instead, all she could hear was the wind rushing through her ears and her horses grunts as he pulled at the reins, wanting to go even faster. 

She obliged, letting the reins go a little bit more. It was too fast, Y/N knew that. But her desperation to run and keep on running was overwhelming - it was blinding her, rendering her numb. 

Her horse gradually began to slow down as he ran out of energy. Y/N didn’t fight it. Anthony managed to catch up with them, reaching over and snatching the reins from Y/N’s hands and bringing them both to a controlled stop, just metres away from the edge of the lake. 

Y/N looked ahead, panting hard, sweat beading on her brow. The wind had torn her hair from its pins and tendrils stuck to her face, knotted together. Mud splattered up the hem of her pale blue dress and her arms were speckled with goosebumps. 

Anthony looked at her. He raised an eyebrow. “Feel better?”

Y/N swallowed, her mouth dry. “Do you ever feel like you're suffocating?”

Anthony turned his horse to face Y/N. He sat up, straightening his back and sighed. “Every day.”

“I never used to.” Y/N breathed heavily, brushing her hair back from her face with a shaking hand. “Not until this year. Now it’s all balls and suitors and marriage - and I have no control over any of it. It’s like my life is no longer my own.”

“That’s exactly how I felt after father died. I was suddenly thrust into a role I hadn’t been properly prepared for and no one asked me how I felt. I went from Anthony to Viscount in a matter of moments and I had no control over any of it.”

Anthony rarely opened up like this - was rarely vulnerable like this. He shielded himself from his family and never let them see more than he wanted them to. Whether it was out of fear of judgement of lack of understanding, Y/N didn’t know. Anthony was the one thing that held the Bridgerton’s together and perhaps he thought that if he broke, then so would everyone else. 

Y/N didn’t remember much of her father’s death and the days that followed. Benedict had told her how Anthony had shoved his own grief to the side and had taken control - had become the viscount. It helped her mind to know that Anthony too felt like he was suffocating. 

“I feel like I’m running down a hill and I can’t stop,” Y/N said, her words still a little spaced out as she caught her breath. “There’s a giant rock chasing me and if I stop, even for a second, I’ll be hit.” Anthony kept quiet, letting his sister run through her thoughts. “I have only been out in society for a month and yet, I am expected to have fallen in love already - to have decided on marriage and who the father of my children will be. I barely know what my favourite colour is, Anthony. How am I meant to make such a significant decision at barely eight and ten years of age?”

Anthony shrugged. His horse snorted, tossing his head back. “Society seems to think you are old enough.”

“Fuck society.”

Anthony snorted. He couldn’t help it. His sister rarely swore - it wasn’t proper - but when she did, it always made him laugh. His snort elicited a smile from Y/N and Anthony matched it. 

“I can talk to mother,” Anthony said, “and tell her to take a step back.”

Y/N closed her eyes, the wind blowing around them. “Do you think it would help?”

Anthony paused. “I don’t know. It would give you time to get your head straight.”

“But all the eligible men might be gone.”

Anthony nodded. “There is that element to it.”

“Then I appear to have no choice.” Y/N sighed, looking defeated. 

“Meet with the Earl of Shaftesbury next week,” Anthony said. “See how the dinner goes, how he is around you and take it from there. If he is not the right person then we will try again. You may not be able to avoid marriage and children for as long as you’d like, but we can take our time with finding the right husband for you.”

Y/N nodded, pressing her lips together. “That would help. But if I don’t find a match this season -”

“Then we try again next season,” Anthony replied simply. “Besides, do you honestly think Eloise will be getting married this season?”

“I don’t think Eloise will be getting married full stop, Anthony,” Y/N muttered, guiding her horse to turn around. She urged it forward and Anthony followed, the two siblings slowly walking back to the house. “It’s a miracle she’s agreed to attend any balls at all.”

“Bribery works miracles,” Anthony said, smiling to himself. “I just really hope Francesca is more compliant - I only have so much money spare each month.”

Y/N laughed. She looked over at her brother and smiled at him. “Thank you for listening. It helps to know I’m not alone.”

Anthony tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement. “I will always listen, Y/N and I will always have your back.”

#bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton!sis #bridgerton sister #anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton x reader #fic #fanfic #platonic

[sunshinesteviee]

emma i already know whatever you write for this adorable sleepover is going to be the cause of my death, but may i please request #17 - to the child: "Could you please bring this to mama/papa/parent?" *handing them a tiny love note* from list one with dad!steve? thank youu i love u hehe <3

kait!!! thank you so much omg i hope you like this; dad!steve owns my entire heart <3 mom!reader, wc: 846

—

It’s a relatively quiet evening in for the Harrington household. The soup you’re making for dinner is simmering on the stove while Steve keeps your toddler busy. You love Claire, she has you wrapped around her finger, but you’re so glad to have Steve; you’re not sure how you’d ever get anything done if it was just you. The last time you’d checked on your loves, they were both sitting at the coffee table in the living room, coloring diligently, and judging how quiet it is, you assume they’re still there.

Steve is, in fact, still sitting on the floor next to his little girl as she scribbles furiously on her paper, the entirety of her tiny hand wrapped around the purple crayon she’s using. Her eyebrows are furrowed, her nose is scrunched up, and her soft, wavy hair is falling into her face as she concentrates on getting her picture just right. Every little thing she does makes Steve’s heart burst, and this little moment is no exception. Reaching out toward her, Steve gently brushes her hair out of her face, tucking it back into the bow clip already in her hair, even though her hair will probably shake free again in a few moments. His voice is soft and filled with adoration as he asks, “What are you coloring, baby?”

It takes a moment, but Claire finally looks up with wide eyes and gives Steve a smile that is identical to yours. His heart bursts again.

Claire begins explaining her picture, pointing out each part as she does. She’s still learning how to talk, and though Steve can interpret her toddler gibberish better than anyone else, he only catches half the words. Still, he nods thoughtfully, as though he fully understands her, “Wow, lovey, you’re doing such a good job. It’s such a pretty picture.”

She beams at him again, and points at the paper on the table in front of Steve, crayon still in her hand, “Dada draw.”

“Oh, you want daddy to draw another picture?”

“Mhm,” she nods, jabbing her finger at the paper again, “Mama an’ Dada an’ Claire.”

“That’s what you want me to draw?” When she nods again, Steve can’t help but give in, even though his drawing skills aren’t great.

Once she sees that he’s drawing what she asked for, Claire turns back to her own paper with a green crayon this time, scribbling right over the purple. Steve’s a bit more careful as he draws three stick figures on the blank piece of paper, one with your hair, one with his hair and glasses, and a dress and pigtails on the smallest figure. Holding the picture up for her to see, he asks, “How’s this, lovey?”

“Good!”

“Do you think Mama will like our pictures?”

“Mhm!” she babbles on a little longer, saying something about the fridge, and Steve realizes that she wants her picture hung up on the fridge, next to the other three million pictures already there. Not that he would ever complain about her adorable drawings.

“I bet if you showed Mama your picture, she’d hang it up on the fridge, Claire bear,” Steve says, taking a different crayon to quickly write a small note on the paper he’d drawn on. Folding the paper in half, Steve hands it to his little girl and points to the kitchen, “Will you take this one to Mama, too, peanut?”

The unmistakable sound of clumsy toddler footsteps approach the kitchen and you turn away from the stove just in time to see Claire burst into the kitchen. She grins at the sight of you, throwing her arms in the air so you can pick her up, “Mama!”

“Hey, sweetheart!” you bend down to scoop her up into your arms, pulling her up to your hip, “Were you and Daddy coloring together?”

Instead of answering, she shoves her drawing into your face, eagerly awaiting your praise, which you quickly give to her after glancing at the mess of color, “Oh, it’s beautiful, baby! You’re so good at coloring.” You punctuate your sentence with a kiss to her cheek. “What’s the other paper you got there, baby?”

“Dada,” she says, holding the paper out for you to take before squirming in your arms.

You set her back on the floor before you can unfold the paper, and watch her dart back out to the living room. When she disappears from the kitchen, you hang up the drawing she’d given you, and unfold the one from your husband. Inside, next to the drawing he’d done is a small note written in crayon. Steve’s already messy handwriting is even harder to read in the thick crayon, but you manage to make out what it says.

It’s his cheesiest nickname for you, followed by an equally cheesy proclamation of love that ends with ‘I love our life together. Love you to the moon and back, honey. Steve’ He’d even drawn a messy heart next to his name.

His drawing and note goes on the fridge front and center right next to Claire’s.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #dad!steve #dad!steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington blurb #blurbs #my blurbs #steve blurbs #vday sleepover!!

[luckycharms1701]

Lucky I write down potential asks in my notes and literally just scribbled this today so the fact hur open now is a wild coincidence and also ily /p have a great night !!! Drink fluids !!

The set up premise might be.. different? so ignore if inspiration doesn't tickle ur scrote but I am a person who eats spicy food on a daily basis and if it's painful enough it can look like a damn sexual experience(panting, sweating, flushed face, gr/moaning(in pain), whines, milk spills, the works). I can see bay Mikey doing some kind of prank or dare without knowing what would stir within until suddenly ur being dragged off to his bedroom trading one heat for another-

I'd hoped this was just about blurbish length and that I make sense ;-; (I am so nervous about sending request asks in I am ill)

(-gornack but anon cuz if i sound nonsensical I don't want the embarrassment of having my account attached)

^ how i felt reading this ask

there is nothing to be embarrassed about here!!

sorry for the fade to black but hope you enjoy anyway!

It takes exactly three wings for you to realize that you’ve made a mistake. You pause when the heat hits your tongue, and that is another mistake. You swallow without tasting anything and look at Mikey’s expectant face with a shaky smile. “No problem!” You give him a thumbs up, hoping he’ll ignore the increasing redness you can feel in your face.

When Mikey came to you, begging to recreate those videos he was obsessed with where people eat progressively spicier food, you knew this would happen. You knew. But one look into those tearful puppy dog eyes and you folded faster than wet cardboard. Now you (and your relatively low spice tolerance) find yourself wishing that you weren’t head over heels for him.

“Yes!” Mikey cheers with his hands in the air, and all the pain you are about to endure is immediately worth it. Damn him. You look back down at the remainder of the wing in your hand and both dread and determination run through your veins. Well, mama didn’t raise no quitter. You bring the little bomb to your mouth and eat the rest of it, trying and failing to keep the sauce off your lips. Shit.

You nibble on some bread to help with the heat, saving the milk for later when you’re truly suffering. Your fingers tap along to the beat of the music Mikey put on as you look for the next spicy little enemy. Instead of offering you the next saucy wing, Mikey is staring. At your lips, specifically. You touch them hesitantly. They feel a little inflamed but dry. “Did I miss some sauce or something?” Mikey shakes his head with an unusually (even for him) loud “No! You’re fine.” You shrug and reach for the wing he offers you.

Sweat forms on your brow before the heat hits, and you brace yourself just in time. A breathy “oh” leaves your parted lips as the heat rolls through your mouth like thunder. You give in and reach for the milk as the heat crests, gulping a little too quickly and spilling some. When the teasing you expect from your best friend doesn’t manifest, you try to contain your panting and look up to find him once again staring at your mouth. “Okay, I know what’s up with me, but what’s up with you?” You reach up and swipe at the line of milk dribbling down your chin with your thumb, and Mikey visibly swallows.

“N-nothing, angel. Just wondering if you’re still up for this. You look… heated.” You groan loudly at what you assume is a very bad pun, holding out your hand for the next torture device. The heat in your mouth is now at an alarmingly high steady burn, but you are trying to ignore that in favor of getting through this ordeal.

“Hit me, Michelangelo.” He mutters something under his breath that you can’t hear over the music, and you study him as he hands you the next wing. He is twitchy, eyes dark as he watches your fingers wrap around the meat. Wondering why Mikey is acting so weird is a good distraction from the pain in your mouth, so you continue to observe him as you raise the fifth wing to your mouth.

It seems almost like Mikey is the one on the spot, you muse as you chew, with the way he can’t sit still. He’s looking everywhere except at you now, fingers tapping agitatedly on the can of Orange Crush in between his hands on the table. Then the heat hits you like a brick wall, and there is no room in your head for anything except the stinging pain. Tears fill your eyes as you whimper.

Mikey’s chair scraping across the floor startles you as you chug some milk, and you spill some again. Your whimper turns into a groan as more milk dribbles down your chin. How embarrassing. The milk pools in your hand as you try in vain to keep it from getting everywhere.

“Okay, that’s it!”

Before you can process what’s happening beyond the fire raging in your mouth, Mikey rounds the table and picks you up. You stutter his name, hands flailing, beyond bewildered. He ignores you and beelines for his room, squeezing you firmly against his plastron.The door closes with an ominous snick, and you brace yourself, still panting from the heat of the wings. The tension leaves you though, as Mikey tosses you on the bed and shows you exactly why he was acting so weird. Oh. Ohhhhh. OH.

~~~

head bonks: @yorshie @avery73 @justalotoffanfiction @thejudiciousneurotic @writinandcrying @xnorthstar3x @morenovix218 @donniesgirlie @gornackeaterofworlds

#in case anyone is wondering #when mikey is muttering he says 'oh i'll /hit you/ alright. hit you with my dick' #you're welcome 😙 #i had a lot of fun writing this! very tongue in cheek that's my favorite #also thank you for the well wishes i am happy to be back uvu #i've said it before and i'll say it again: i LOVE getting requests PLEASE send them to me #zero need to be anxious i get giddy whenever one comes in #talking tag #writing tag #bayverse mikey #bayverse mikey x reader #tmnt

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

The slashers

(And Carrie please 😭)

With a albino child reader🤭‼️

Omg I don't know much about albinism sorry if I got something wrong or missed anything.

I shortened it because I'm not consistent.

Michael

Michael was stalking and then he saw you and thought you were a baby angel at first. Like seriously, you look so angelic!

Wanted to observe you more but then he realised that he's out for killing and then ran walked away.

A bit later when he's killed 3 people that he wonders why he didn't kill you. But whatever it was he wanted to see you again.

For a possibly-not-an-angel-and-just-an-odd-kid you sure as hell did act like an angel.

And then he started to feel protective over you. He distanced himself but that didn't work so he just dealt with this annoying feeling for now.

He saw a kid call you a mf chalk and then later he was also found cut out and dead like a chalk.

It was a sunny day where you tried to cover your eyes from the bright sun away from your sensitive eyes and your not so good wasn't helping at all.

You kept bumping into things when you bumped into a hard clothed big statue like legs which made a shade for your smaller body and you got a good look at your savior.

You were kinda creeped out since his gaze on you felt the exact watching ones you felt when you were outside or near a window but those eyes never meant harm or anything malicious towards you.

The figure then fastly walked away which was unknowingly the start of your new little friendship.

Sinclair brothers

They couldn't believe their eyes when they first saw you. You were just so... Different! In a good way! Wondered if you were just a pale kid who just bleached every hair on their body. Please forgive them they're new to this.

Bo again shows you off for tourist attraction but just in the shade, if you think he only likes you is because you can get the attention of people effectively he'll be very quick to dismiss those thoughts, of course he sees you more than that! That part is just for business. Don't think such silly thoughts again. Probably says shit like "don't run off and trip on the ground, it'll be a pain if your hair gets dirtied." but really it's just a dumb excuse to keep his paranoia away. He'll buy glasses for you if your eyesight is crazy poor.

Vincent also loves how you look. He's just in the corner like "wow I can't believe that beautiful child likes me." his cute little ass is in the basement and scribbling. Plays with your hair if you have any. He'd pick you up if you're having a hard time seeing, or covers you up on a bright day. He loves how you look but also hates the consequences you have to suffer with. He thinks you're very delicate because of these reasons and so comes mama Vincent, bo is around the corner no one can handle his mom energy yet.

Lester is sad that most of the time you can't go outside mostly because of your light sensitivity. But although the stars and the moon do look nice. Still tries to give you a good life though, he understands that you probably got looked at weirdly and doesn't want to make you feel that same way. Lester and Jonesy always have your back on this one. Random person bothering you? No problem Jonesy will get the pleasure of scaring the shit out of them maybe bite them idk depends. Maybe they're both mauling that person

Carrie

Was awestruck when she first saw you. Thought you kinda looked like her! And that you were an angel since you fit the description of one.

Would get confused if you said you get bullied. God people find reasons to bully someone for no reason.

She would definitely do something about it though, it would be very rude of her if she just let it continue.

Wouldn't go as far as killing but would scare them into never talking to you again. She might feel kinda bad but they deserved it.

Gives you old light coloured clothing as it goes well with you. Maybe you two can match!

Doesn't know what her mother will think of you so she keeps you hidden. She means no harm! She just wants to make sure she can be there for you.

#michael myers x you #og michael myers #mads mikkelsen hannibal #slasher x reader #slasher x you #sinclair twins #bo sinclair #sinclair brothers #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #sinclair brothers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #carrie white x reader #carrie white #carrie #bo sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x you