#//i need to draw her too........... i tried ages ago but i was in Big Artblock and it looked BAD lol

[zichqecs-hoard]

her!!

ssp angel!! my girl....

[kyriethesquishysquid]

When The Lights Go Out (John Price/Fem!Reader)

Summary: Captain Price and our lovely reader are neighbors in an apartment complex. Being a single mom to a four-year-old little girl, the reader tries to deny her feelings for the Captain, too afraid of rejection and ruining their friendship. It seems that fate has other plans for them when the apartment building loses power one fateful night. (Yeah, I’m bad at summaries, sue me lol)

Word count: (Somehow) ~9.5k

A/N: Uhh... sorry this came out a lot longer than I expected lol. Some use of Y/N. Reader’s description is left rather vague but there are details as to her being short, chubby, and with hair long enough to pull back. 

TW: Alcohol use. A few angry lines about infidelity of the ex-husband. Porn with minor plot. Romance and smut. Size kink, slight age gap (reader is somewhere around 25ish-30ish), dom/sub themes, M!dom, F!sub, some daddy kink, voice kink, dirty talk, squirting, and loottss of pet names (I’m a whore for pet names) including good girl, princess, darling, love, and daddy.

“This is pathetic,” you muttered glumly.

Throwing back the last bit of wine in your glass, you set it down and started filling it up again. Alone, on a Friday night, drinking at home and daydreaming about your hunk of a neighbor. God, you needed a hobby. Of course, being a single mom and working full time didn’t exactly give you the time to do much anyway, but you always felt the full brunt of loneliness on the few nights you were alone with your thoughts. Emma was with your parents at their beachside home for the weekend and there you were at home, lonely and wishing you had the balls to ask the man down the hall on a date. As you started sipping on your second glass, you let your thoughts wander back to the last time you had seen him a little over a week ago.

…

“Picey! It’s Picey!” Emma’s little voice cheered, drawing your gaze up from your phone. 

A flush warmed your cheeks gently when you met your neighbor's eyes as he entered the elevator, empathetically taking in his tired and pensive expression. You managed a little smile and a wave despite the way your heart began racing at the proximity of his form beside yours. 

Standing at about six feet tall with broad shoulders and muscular arms that easily rivaled the thickness of your thighs, Captain Price was one of the, if not the, hottest men you’d ever seen. That wasn’t even counting the beautiful mutton chops and mustache combo he sported or the way his intense blue eyes crinkled at the edges when he blessed you with his bright smile. Yeah, safe to say, you were helplessly smitten with the older military man. 

“Hey, munchkin!” Price replied, all traces of exhaustion lifting immediately as he ruffled her hair, “Hello, munchkin’s mum.”

“Hello, Captain. It’s good to see you made it home safe,” you said sweetly.

Before he could respond, Emma reached out towards the captain with little grabby hands. There was a moment where you considered pulling your daughter away, not wanting to make Price feel awkward, but then he lifted his hands in waiting. You thought your heart would explode, watching him set the toddler on his hip as if she belonged there naturally while she started babbling to him about cookies. 

“Chocolate chip, huh? You’re gonna sneak me some over, aye?” he asked in a conspiratorial whisper, eyes flickering to meet yours with mirth.

“As long as you promise you’re gonna be there tonight,” you replied coyly, “No running out on another mission without telling us, got it?”

Mastering your best stern mom look, you challenged his gaze only for the big man to break into a grin. The two of you had a little system going on. You brought him dinner and sweets on the nights he was home, and he’d let you know when he was heading out of town so you didn’t freak out when you didn’t see him for a while. It started after the first time you’d made the landlord do a wellness check when you hadn’t seen him for over a week. Safe to say, you were mortified when he confronted you about it, but he took it in stride; said it was nice to have someone outside of work looking out for him. This last trip was the first time since then that he’d left without warning and you couldn’t deny that it had made you sick with worry.

“I figured you’d be upset over that but, in my defense, I got the call at two in the mornin’ and I wasn’t about to wake up the lil missus just for that,” he explained.

Your conversation was interrupted by the ding of the lift, gazes turning forward as the doors opened onto your floor. He waved you forward and followed you down to your end of the hall, all the while engaging Emma in a conversation about her newest love- Dora. A pang of sadness tugged at your heartstrings when you stopped at your door and had to unlock it, signaling the end of your impromptu hang-out with the Captain. 

“Will you be home around six?” you asked as you took Emma back from him. 

“Should be.”

Giving him a little nod, you replied, “Good, expect a delivery around then.”

…

He had to leave that next morning for another mission and still wasn’t back yet. Logically, you knew that he could be gone anywhere from a few days to a couple of months at a time, but that didn’t make you worry any less each time. 

“Good god, I need to get laid,” you mused, eyes darting to your phone on the charger, “Would Tinder be worth it?” 

You were debating the pros and cons of downloading the dating app when there was a sudden pop and everything went black around you, your dim phone screen the only source of light in your pitch-black apartment. A little scream fled your lips as the darkness immediately closed in around you like an assailant, the shadows mimicking fingers against your skin and evoking terrifying thoughts.

“Shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit!”

Jumping off of the bar stool, you made a mad dash across the kitchen in hopes of finding all the candles you had hiding in the storage closet. Of course, it was just your luck that you forgot that you had left one of the cabinets open just enough to catch your knee, the unexpected impact sending you flying across the floor with a shriek. Almost instantly, you could feel the bruises rising under your skin but even those were nothing compared to the blinding pain across your knee. Stifling curses under your breath, you turned your phone light on again to assess the damage and couldn’t help but whimper at the sight of blood dripping down your leg. A simple gash but painful nonetheless. 

“I swear to god, as if tonight couldn’t get any wo-”

The sudden thunder of pounding on your front door almost sent you into another panic until you heard the voice. 

“Y/N? Are you okay in there?” 

Captain Price. Groaning in relief, you managed to force yourself up to your feet and hobbled over to the door, sliding open the top lock and deadbolt before yanking it open. Jesus, the man seemed even bigger in the dark, his shadowed form dominating the doorway with ease.

“Hey, Price,” you huffed lamely, barely able to make out his face in the dim backup lighting from the hallway. 

He moved as if to reach out for you but then suddenly pulled away as if he thought better of it, hands resting on his hips as he looked over you. 

“I was comin’ to check on you and the little one when I heard you yell, you alright?” he asked, voice as uncertain as you felt. 

“Mm, define alright,” you joked softly, gesturing down to your leg as you flashed your phone light onto the wound, “I panicked when the power went out, and I was going for the candles when I… well, I tripped.”

It sounded much stupider when you said it out loud, you realized. Way to embarrass yourself in front of the hottest guy alive, self. He cleared his throat and you quickly turned off the phone in mortification when you realized how much skin you were showing, almost scandalous having been dressed down into a tiny little pajama set for a quiet night alone. 

“I- I see,” he muttered quietly, “Do you need help cleanin’ that up?” 

Your head nearly spun with whiplash as suggestive thoughts raced through your brain but you managed a little shrug after a moment. 

“If you don’t mind, sure, I wouldn’t be opposed to the company anyway. I hate the dark,” you admitted softly. 

Thankfully, he didn’t comment on your childish fear, just followed you in and shut the door behind him. You were about to run to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit when his hands were suddenly on your sides, steering you to the kitchen island stool with the firm instruction to ‘sit and relax’.

“I’ll grab the bandages. Where do you keep them?” he asked once you sat. 

Cheeks warming, you drew your legs up into the seat and rested your cheek on your knee, wrapping around yourself for protection against the sudden onslaught of lust rocketing through your body. While you logically knew he had to be commanding for his career in the military, hearing that authoritarian tone directed your way was nothing less than arousing. 

“First aid kit is in the bathroom, cabinet above the toilet,” you explained, hoping your voice didn’t betray your inner panic.

He stalked off without another word and you immediately wished you could see his form better. The man had an ass that made your knees weak. You were ashamed to think about how often you’d taken sneak peeks as he walked away, or how often you’d pictured riding one of his thick thighs until-

“You said you have candles?” 

“Fuck!” 

You nearly fell out of your chair as you flinched in reaction to the sudden addition of his voice to your not-so-innocent thoughts of said man. It was obvious he was trying not to let his amusement show but you caught the way his shoulders shook in laughter as he set the kit on the island next to you. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized kindly, “Candles?” 

Embarrassed and frustrated beyond belief, you told him exactly where the candles were before dragging your wine glass over, hoping to drink away the awkwardness and lust making a home in your stomach. In the time it took him to get back to the island, you had finished your second glass of wine and began to pour a third. You were gonna need all the liquid courage you could get if you were going to survive being alone with him in close quarters for the first time ever. He lit the candles and set them evenly across the island's top, the flames highlighting and shadowing his handsome face in flickering light. 

“Alright, let’s see that cut,” he sighed, taking a seat across from you.

A wave of gratefulness swelled in your chest as you realized you had shaved yesterday. No hairy legs to make things worse. That was one point in your favor. Allowing him to take your leg into his hands, you watched intently as he rested your calf against his thigh, fingers tracing gently around the edge of the gash with a sigh. 

“Got yourself good, didn’t ya? Good news is you won’t need stitches,” he explained.

“That’s a relief.”

Honestly, you hadn’t even thought about the possibility of stitches. Your lip ached under the pressure of your teeth as you gnawed on the plump flesh in an attempt to calm the blood pounding through your veins. Sure, it wasn’t under the best circumstances, but you’d longed to feel those very fingers on you for months now- and here he was, touching your bare legs, in a dark room lit up romantically by candlelight, staring at you as if… wait, why was he staring?! His lips moved and you belatedly realized he’d been talking to you while you zoned out thinking about all the ways you wanted him to fuck you seven ways from Sunday.

“Sorry, what?” you asked bluntly, a weak smile curling up your lips. 

“I said this might sting,” he repeated with a little chuckle, “Just how many glasses of wine have you had there, darlin’?” 

Heat lit up your cheeks as you gave a little shrug in response. 

“I just started on number three; I’m not drunk,” you assured him.

“Mmhmm.”

He lifted an eyebrow to express his obvious disagreement and, before you could stop it, you poked your tongue out at him teasingly. There was a sudden pause as if the world stilled when his eyes met yours, and you instinctively pulled your tongue back in as something dark passed through his eyes.

“Better watch that tongue now, love,” he rumbled softly.

Fuck, letting him in had definitely been a bad decision. Between the wine circulating in your system, your fear of the dark, and the intimacy of his skin against yours, you were undoubtedly going to make a stupid mistake. Oh but how you wanted to. 

Nibbling on your lower lip, you shifted in your seat to allow him to angle your leg up more and quickly quipped, “Or what, sir?” 

The way he fumbled the little alcohol packet would have been hilarious if it weren’t for the intense look he pinned you with after. Your laughter died on your lips before it could even exit. It was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking in the dim candlelight but, with the way he was slowly stroking your calf muscle almost subconsciously, you hoped it was good. The silence was deafening. While he wasn’t more than five or ten years older than you, you suddenly felt much younger, much smaller beneath his gaze. Was this his disappointed captain look? Had you actually upset him? 

“Uh, s-sorry, sir,” you whispered softly.

He let out a low sigh before suddenly leaning forward, fingers gently touching your chin while his thumb pried your lip free from your teeth. 

“I need you to stop bitin’ your lip like that,” he demanded.

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, your head swimming on cloud nine, and your skin sparking at every point his body touched yours. You barely managed a little hum of agreement when he tapped your chin softly, obviously expecting an answer. Fuck what you wouldn’t give to kiss him right now. 

“Good girl, now, sit back and let me fix you up.”

Every fiber of your being felt on fire and it took all of your might not to moan at that panty-wetting line. He had to know what he was doing, right? Nobody was unintentionally that sexy. Nobody. Swallowing hard, you nodded once and did as told, letting your hands rest on your lap as he cleaned and bandaged up the wound. It was funny. You had almost expected him to have a heavy hand, between his size and his career, but he was nothing short of tender. Almost as if he was afraid he would hurt you. 

“There, all done,” he murmured, gently patting your foot but not removing it from his lap, “Does it still hurt?”

Shaking your head quickly, you picked up the mostly empty wine bottle and tilted it his way. There was maybe one glass worth left.

“Drink?” you offered meekly, “As payment for patching me up?” 

He was obviously hesitant but finally took it after you shook the bottle insistently at him. 

“Yeah! Don’t leave me to drink alone like the fool I am,” you chuckled with a grin, “Glad to see you’re back home safe, by the way.”

“In the nick of time too, it seems,” he hummed warmly.

You nodded in agreement, letting your body relax against the low back of the chair as you sipped on your drink and not-so-subtly eyefucked him. He was dressed down more than usual, neither in his fatigues nor usual casual clothes. And yet somehow he was still the most delectable man you’d ever seen, in his tight black henley and sporty grey sweatpants; maybe even more so than usual. He looked almost approachable like that. You had to wonder if he knew the internet’s obsession with those pants or the reason why. His own ‘physique’ wasn’t lost in your appreciation of how well they fit his massive thighs. 

“Where’s kiddo?” he asked suddenly. 

It took you a second to understand what he had asked, leaving you to blink owlishly in confusion until it finally registered and a relaxed smile crossed your face. 

“My parents took her with them to their beach house this weekend, something about an early birthday gift for her and wanting to give me a “break”,” you snorted, remembering your mom’s exact reasoning.

Lifting your hands into the air, you made air quotes as you mimicked her high-pitched voice.

“Go see one of those young men who keep asking you out at work”, you squeaked before letting out a fake laugh, “As if I’d do that.” 

“Why’s that?” 

Rolling your eyes, you immediately retorted, “Well, one, I don’t date customers. Sets a bad example for the next guy that wants in my pants. And two, I dunno… I guess I just have a specific type. Besides, there’s only one man I want right now and, well, I’m certain he doesn’t exactly feel the same way.”

A deep warmth crossed your face down your neck, leaving you overheated as you looked over said man lustfully. Hopefully, you weren’t too obvious but, fuck, maybe if you were you’d get an answer. Was chancing your friendship, his connection with Emma, worth the one percent chance he’d fuck you? No, you decided with a frown, it really wasn’t. 

Price snorted, took a drink of the wine, and muttered, “Well, that’s just stupid. Either he’s blind or you just don’t know he’s interested.”

“Yeah right, Captain. I’m a single divorced mom. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly a hot commodity these days. Plus, I’m chubby and out of shape, and he’s like the epitome of godlike,” your words trailed off slowly as you let your eyes run down and up his body pointedly, “Guys like him don’t go for ladies like me, as much as I’m selfish and wish he would.”

The sigh he let out made your heart flutter. God, what would that deep rumble sound like in bed, or was he a quiet one? You hoped he wasn’t. His voice was the epitome of sexual energy and you’d want to hear him talking you through every second. 

“It’s John, and you’re blind,” he retorted blandly, earning a confused look from you. 

“What do you mean? About myself? No, I’m pretty sure-” 

“Oh, fuck it!” 

Suddenly your leg was tossed aside when he jumped to his feet, pushing to stand between your thighs as he gripped them tight and dragged you to the edge of the chair until he was slotted perfectly against the apex of your thighs. One hand moved to cup your face and dragged you into a soft kiss, his other digging tight into the plush of your hip. 

All you could do was blink in awe. Was- Was this real? Had you passed out when you fell? There was no way Price was kissing you right now.

He pulled back as if he’d been stung and let out a curse. 

“Shit, did I misread that?” he asked, brows furrowed in worry. 

Eyes wide and mouth parted, you hesitantly reached up and covered his hand with yours, taking in the sensation of his skin against yours. 

“Did- Did you just kiss me or am I dreaming?” you asked weakly. 

Relief filled his face and you watched as he broke into laughter, shoulders bouncing with the motion as he leaned in again until your eyes could barely focus on his. 

“Yes, I kissed you, is that alright, love?” 

“More than alright,” you whispered.

This time you were able to react, disbelief thrown to the side to make room for desire. Hands resting gently against his cheeks, you stroked your thumbs along the oddly soft hairs and shivered in excitement. He was gentle and sweet, both everything you’d expected and yet somehow not nearly as rough. You’d always questioned what kind of lover he was, seeing as he was someone with a heart of gold in one of the most dangerous fields of work.

Your thoughts were brought back to the moment when you felt his lips part against yours. Without a second thought, you leaned up and sunk your teeth into his plump lower lip, nearly moaning at the groan he let out in reply. The hand that had been idle on your face wrapped around the nape of your neck and squeezed tight until you released your hold. 

“You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?” he breathed out huskily, eyes searching your face hungrily. 

“No trouble at all,” you replied cheekily. 

“Hmm, we’ll see about that,” he scoffed, “Just remember, brats don’t get what they want, aye?” 

You could practically feel your body humming and your eyes dilated as you took in a shaky breath.

“I- I won’t be a brat,” you whispered back, comically quiet in the silent room. 

“Good girl.”

 That was the second time he’d used those words against you. There was definitely more to Price than you’d expected and, god, you wanted to explore it all, but at another time. Right now, the way he praised you felt sweeter than cotton candy on your tongue and you craved that more than breath itself. The saccharine tenderness of his words was replaced with the smoky taste of tobacco and sharp notes of your red wine when his mouth met yours once more.

A little whine escaped your mouth into his when he drew back just enough to bite your lip and sucked softly on the tender flesh. When he finally pulled away, you could only stare at him with adoration. 

“You have to stop lookin’ at me like that, princess,” he groaned. 

Oh. Oh, that nickname. Fuck, this man was ticking off all your secret kinks without even knowing it. 

“Forgive me if I’m a little starstruck,” you replied with a nervous giggle, nails scraping gently along his jaw, “I’ve only been thinking about this for months.”

“Months, huh?” he asked, leveling you with a deadly smirk.

You let out a little breath and nodded, explaining, “Ever since the first time I saw you, even before I knew what a sweetheart you were, all I could imagine was how good it’d feel if you’d pin me up against the wall in the elevator or-”

His groan silenced you immediately, your lips hanging open as you watched entranced by the way his head tipped back. 

“Come on, up we go,” he purred suddenly, fingers sliding down to grab your ass.

You instinctively clung to him with a cry of shock when he lifted you from the chair onto his waist, eyes wide as you met his gaze. 

“John! Don’t, I’m heav-”

“Princess, I train with men twice your size every day,” he cut you off smoothly, “Believe me when I say your weight is nothin’. Besides, what’s the point in having muscles if not to carry around beautiful women, hmm?”

Warmth flooded your cheeks and you buried your face in his neck, unable to meet his eyes as he said such sweet things. True to his word, he was able to carry you from the kitchen all the way into your bedroom without breaking a sweat. The instant your knees met the bed, he was on you again, lips gently kissing down the soft column of your throat. When he reached the thickest part of the muscle connecting your neck and shoulder, his teeth dug in hard, his lips sucking your sensitive flesh taut until you were nearly clawing at him, afraid he would break the skin. He pulled back with a pop and you deflated against him, whimpering his name breathlessly. 

It felt good, really fucking good, but you needed more. Slipping your hands beneath his shirt, you rested your palms against his abdomen and drew the fabric up as you soaked in the feeling of raw power under your fingers.

“Shirt off,” you managed to huff through whimpers, “Please.”

Price jerked back hastily and tore the shirt off, giving you an unintentional but lovely show as he threw it aside. He wasn’t built as in a super compact six-pack, but he was broad, solid, the defining lines of his core muscles showing with each sharp intake of breath. You let your fingers trace over each dip of his obliques, up to his toned shoulders and then back down to rest against the thicket of hair covering his tense pecs as you eyed every inch of bare skin. This man was, undeniably, a fucking god. 

Eyes flickering up to meet his, you flashed him a small smile as you leaned forward, copying his previous motions on your neck against his. His low rumble vibrated deliciously against your lips as you made your way down his neck, stopping against his shoulder to suck on the tender flesh and leave a love bite that surely matched the one on you. 

He startled a squeak out of you when his hand suddenly came into contact with your ass, the smack loud and sharp in the air. 

“I thought you weren’t goin’ to be a brat,” he asked teasingly. 

 You shot him a pout and replied, “I wasn’t. It’s only fair that I get to leave marks on you if you’re going to leave them on me.” 

Lifting a brow, he smirked and shook his head. 

“As long as you leave them out of sight,” he compromised after a moment of thought, “Gotta have some kind of professionalism at work.”

At that, your eyes widened and shame lit up your cheeks. You hadn’t thought about that at all. While your hickies could be covered up with makeup, it’s not like you’d really get in trouble for having them at work, but as a soldier- a captain no less- you could only imagine what rules they had there. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think about that! You won’t get in trou-”

“Shh, shh, princess, it’s fine,” he assured you quickly, drawing you up into a gentle kiss, “My shirt’ll cover it.” 

“You’re sure?” you asked meekly. 

“I promise, you’re fine.” 

With one last kiss, he released your face and you went back to your previous task. Now, though, you made sure to keep any biting to areas that would be covered by his clothes. There were little scars scattered across his skin, little reminders that he had been hurt so many times before, and each one made your heart clench with the need to kiss them away. It wasn’t until you reached the drawstring of his sweats that he finally stopped you and pulled you back up. 

“Hey,” you groaned in frustration. 

“Uh-uh. Don’t pout at me. What do you want, darlin’? I need you to tell me,” he muttered, breath catching in his throat as you slid your fingers across his waistband. 

“I want to taste you finally,” you replied, “I’ve dreamed about it for so long.”

His moan would have made you collapse against the bed if he weren’t holding onto your hips so tightly. Fuck, you knew he’d sound good like that. 

“First, this shirt comes off,” he replied, fingers hooking under your tank top. 

Lifting your arms, you let him tear the fabric away and were rewarded with a guttural moan when his gaze found your bare breasts. You weren’t even given the chance to put your arms back down before he was knelt on the bed, arm hooked around your back to drag you forward with a growl as he pressed open-mouthed kisses against your chest. 

“Ah, fuck!” you gasped weakly, fingers sinking into his short hair for support. 

“You- are- bloody- gorgeous,” he hissed out between wet kisses, “How you think I could ever resist you baffles me.” 

Any embarrassment you would have felt from his comment was washed away the instant his mouth was on your nipple, fingers mimicking the motion on the other one. Each stroke of his tongue across your sensitive bud felt directly connected to your clit. Within moments, you felt both on the brink of orgasm and yet leagues away, your breaths coming out hot and heavy as you pulled him closer still. 

“John, please,” you whined, free hand tugging at his pants symbolically. 

He grunted, giving a slight shake of his head as he latched onto your breast with fervor, sucking so hard you felt dizzy with need. When he finally pulled back, you almost fell back.  

“Head off the end of the bed then, love,” he instructed gently. 

It took you a second to organize your thoughts but you finally nodded as he walked around to the end. Laying on your back, you quickly scooted farther down the mattress until your head fell off and you were left face-to-face with his bulge in those damned grey sweats. Oh, what a sight that was. You’d take a picture if you could. 

Lifting up just enough to meet his gaze, you hesitantly reached for his pants and asked, “Can I?” 

“Go ahead.”

Twisting your hands, you dragged your nails softly down the plains of his abdomen, enjoying the way his muscles clenched against your fingers before you grabbed the waistband and tugged it down. You instinctively froze with an audible gasp as you watched his cock slap against his belly, the tip resting right below his navel. While you could tell he was big through his clothes, you’d underestimated just how big. And fuck was he beautiful, thick and veiny and delectable. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, John,” you bit out in disbelief with a laugh, “This is supposed to fit in me?”

Allowing one hand to keep tugging his sweats down, the other came up to wrap around his base. Despite never having been with a man quite as big as him, you knew you could do it, but you also understood it was going to take some getting used to. One wrong move and you’d be in pain for days after. 

“Don’t worry, princess, we’ll make it fit,” he purred warmly.

A muted curse left your lips as your core clenched in need. This man was going to be the death of you. Wiggling so your neck was better supported by the edge of the bed, you used your hold on his dick to lead him forward, parting your lips invitingly the moment he was close enough. His taste was overwhelming when he finally pushed between your lips. A hungry moan escaped before you could stop it and your fingers dug into his thighs, urging him forward. 

He slowly inched closer, pulling out and sliding back in with each step until he was able to lean over your body, one hand resting beside you on the bed to balance himself while the other busied itself plucking at your nipples. It was hard to take at first, your anxiety telling you that you wouldn’t be able to actually handle his full size, but you breathed through it all and focused on keeping your muscles relaxed.

“Fuck, look at you,” he sighed, scratching his short nails down your stomach, “You’re absolutely stunnin’, love.” 

You flinched in surprise when his fingers slipped beneath your shorts but the shock was cut short by rampant desire as he slid his digits along your slit with a groan. The motion flexed his hips forward and buried him further into your mouth, head pressing uncomfortably against your throat. 

“Can you take more, darlin’?” he asked softly. 

Humming out positively, you quickly swallowed before craning your neck back farther, hoping to open yourself more. 

“That’s my girl, relax your throat for me. Tap me if it gets to be too much.”

After letting you take in a deep breath, he began to push deeper. Almost instantly you felt tears flood your eyes. It took every bit of your resolve not to give into the desperate need to gag around him as he pushed in slowly, but you held strong. You’d give everything you could to this man and you wouldn’t complain for a single second. 

“Fuck!”

He jerked back suddenly and thrust in just as quickly, then again, until he got comfortable with fucking your mouth. Pressing your tongue against his cock, you were easily lost in the motions, reminding yourself to suck in a breath every other thrust when you could; so lost that you practically jumped into the air when you felt his fingers start moving against your clit. Your entire body melted into the mattress as you gave over to primal desires, brain too full of cotton to do more than allow you to just feel. 

“So fuckin’ wet for me, love,” he groaned quietly, “I can’t wait to see how wet you get when I make you come.” 

The moan you let out was garbled by his cock but it made him groan your name in return, his hips stuttering in their pace. You nearly whined at the loss of his hand in your shorts but then it was over your neck, wet fingers wrapping around your throat and pressing against the sides as he thrust in as far as possible and held there. You couldn’t breathe, and yet you found you weren’t scared. 

“God, look at that. I can see your throat bulgin’ around my cock. I can fuckin’ feel it when I press right here. What a pretty fuckin’ sight you make.” 

A broken whine fell from your lips when he pulled back suddenly, leaving your blurry eyes staring at his erection wantingly until he took your hands and guided you up. You were barely upright before his mouth crashed against yours, biting, brutal, and perfect. 

“John, please,” you whimpered against his lips, nails finding a home in his arms as you tried to pull him onto the bed. 

“I already told you, you need to use your words, princess,” he reminded you firmly. 

Wiping away the few tears that had fallen, you nodded and said, “I want you to fuck me, please.” 

The smirk that curved up his lips made your heart thump. 

“I will, I promise, but not before I have those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head,” he retorted, “Lay down.”  

Apparently, you took too long to move in your shock because the next thing you knew, you were shoved back onto the bed. A giggle escaped quietly as you situated the pillow beneath your head but you went silent as you caught the beautiful sight of an entirely naked Captain John Price scaling up the bed over you. Who the fuck gave him the right to be so goddamn gorgeous? He snagged your shorts and tore them off, tossing them away without a second thought before he leaned down over you. 

“You and those eyes, darlin’,” he sighed softly, lips pressing softly on your sternum. 

“What do you mean?” you asked. 

A sharp gasp caught your breath when he turned his head and rubbed his beard against your sensitive skin, teasing across your flesh until he took your hardening peak between his lips, his eyes never leaving yours. 

When he released you, there was a twinkle in his gaze. 

“I used to tell myself I was just seein’ things, but now, now I know,” he murmured, beard trailing across the expanse of your chest until his mouth was hoving over your other nipple, “You’re eyes are so damn beautiful, so expressive. I can see every thought goin’ on behind them and it drives me crazy.” 

You licked your lips nervously and asked, “That’s good, right?” 

His response came in the form of a growl as his teeth sunk into your breast, tearing a squeal from your chest as you instinctively arched into his touch. 

“Very good. I like seein’ what I do to you.”

Butterflies twitched up a storm in your belly as he slowly kissed down your abdomen, taking care to plant his lips on every little spot, even those you hated. When he lifted your legs up onto his shoulder, you couldn’t help the little whimper you let out, feeling beyond exposed to him, a little overwhelmed by the intimacy. It had been years since you’d been with anyone, since even before your ex-husband had left you and Emma, and now you were here with the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on lying between your legs, practically salivating at the chance to eat you out when the man you’d been married to couldn’t even be bothered to do more than stick his dick in. What a fucking upgrade. 

“Don’t be quiet, love, I want to hear ya,” he ordered lowly, lips trailing up the inside of your right thigh, “Is that understood?” 

“Yes sir,” you whispered back, grinning as you saw the reaction clear in his eyes. 

“Good girl.” 

He moved slow, so slow that you want to whine and beg him to move faster, but the tingle of his beard and teeth against your skin felt too good.  When he finally kissed down your mound and his lips brushed against your slit, you couldn’t hold back a moan.

“That’a girl,” he hummed.

His arms hooked around your legs, pinning them open as one hand dipped to part your lips and his tongue immediately went to the place you craved it most. Instinctively your legs fought to close against the sudden tendrils of pleasure but he easily held them in place. 

“Uh-uh, this is mine,” he growled, punctuating his words with a little nibble against your clit.

“Fuck!” you gasped.

Your fingers clung to the sheets for some semblance of restraint as your eyes rolled back and a low moan crawled from your throat. With slow, heavy motions, he lapped at your clit, teasing you up the precipice at a pace that made you delirious for more. Gradually the leisurely licks turned into more precise, quick strokes and you lost your ability to stay silent. 

“Please, please more,” you whimpered. 

His moan was loud in the quiet room and the heated cadence twisted the knot in your core tighter. 

“More what?” he asked huskily.

Though his tongue was no longer at work, he didn’t stop teasing you, letting his fingertips rub your clit oh so gently as he kissed up the inside of your thigh. 

“Hmm, princess? Tell me exactly what you want,” he encouraged. 

Brows furrowing, you whimpered and battled through the sensations long enough to reply. 

“I want you in me,” you gasped. 

He chuckled and gave a gentle bite into the meat of your thigh before saying, “I need more to go on. Use your words, little one. What part of me do you want inside of you?” 

You slapped a hand over your face in mortification and bit out, “I want your dick in me! Please fuck me!” 

“Oh baby, I told you. Not until I’m done with you. You’re going to come undone on my tongue first, then I’ll gladly fuck you.”

Was this man hand-crafted by the gods specifically to give you a heart attack? How did he manage to roll up dominance and sweetness so perfectly? Your thoughts spun out of control when John brought your attention back to him, removing his hold on one of your legs with a little smack to your hip. 

“My fingers will have to do for now,” he purred.

Even warned, the breach of his fingers into your cunt set off a miniature explosion. Your walls clamped down tight without thought and your legs shook in restraint as the blissful ecstasy edged rapidly closer. When he added his tongue back into the mix, your brain shut off entirely. Curses and whimpers of desperation filled the air as your nails scrambled for purchase against your breasts. 

“Jo-John, fuck yes, please- I-”

“That’s it, love, come for daddy.”

Those words beautifully timed with the flicking of his tongue finally sent you over the edge with a scream. Ecstasy erupted in your core, shocks of pleasure vibrating through your body as he worked you endlessly through it. You instinctively tried to push him away but he snagged your wrist tight, pinning it down against your stomach as he held your hips down against the bed, not giving you even an inch as you thrashed in his hold.  

“J-John,l fuckohmygod!”

It was too much, burning and hot and so fucking good. His tongue continued to swirl and dance as he deepened the curl of his fingers with a hungry groan. Before you could stop it, you felt a familiar, debauched pleasure release within. With a cry of shock, you thrashed under him with guilt and indulgence as he pushed you into that rarely achieved euphoria that painted your thighs and his face with slick. It wasn’t until you were frantically jerking at your bonds and begging him through tears, nearly collapsing in on yourself under the stimulation, that he finally drew away with an animalistic growl.

All you could do was lay there, panting and whimpering, and try not to cry like a baby. Never had anyone been able to make you come like that. 

“Hey, look at me, princess,” John cooed softly.

You could feel him crawling over you again, his body radiating heat across your rapidly cooling skin, and you instinctively smiled softly at the comfort he brought. 

“Love, let me see those beautiful eyes, hmm?” he urged, hand gently stroking your cheek. 

After another second or two, you managed to flutter your eyelids open only to find him with worry in his gaze. It was unbearably endearing until you realized just how wet his facial hair was and your cheeks burned hot. 

“S-Sorry,” you whispered, reaching up to get rid of the evidence. 

John chuckled when he caught your hand before you got anywhere near him, slamming it to the bed beside your head as he leaned in and caught your lips in a soft kiss. 

“Don’t ever apologize for enjoying yourself, darlin’,” he replied warmly, “If I didn’t like it, I wouldn’t do it. Fuck, I could live off that sweet little cunt, princess. And the way you say my name? God.”

It felt so weird to hear such good things about yourself and it made you want to shrink away but he was having none of that. 

“I need to know if you want to continue. If you want to stop, just say-”

“No! I- I want more,” you cut him off quickly, legs wrapping loosely around his hips, “Please.” 

Gone was the worry, replaced by wanton lust as a smirk filled his lips. 

“You sure?” 

Swallowing hard, you nibbled on your lower lip and whispered, “Please… daddy.”

If you didn't know better, you’d have thought you’d slapped him by the groan he let out, his hips subconsciously grinding against your cunt. 

“Oh, uh, it might be a little late but… I’m am clean and I’m on birth control,” you added meekly, shuddering under the heat in his gaze, “I- I got tested after Daz cheated and I haven’t been with anyone since then so… It’s- It’s safe if… I just don’t have condoms so…”

You let your voice trail off awkwardly, his silence worrying you until he let out a low sigh. He stretched forward and pressed his lips to your forehead gently as he murmured your name. 

“You’re gonna kill me, you know that?” he murmured, then asked again, “You’re sure?”

“Completely, please, fuck me,” you assured him. 

He moaned softly before lifting back up onto his hands, staring down at you with pure unadulterated passion and desire. 

“You said it’s been a while, aye?” 

When you nodded, he suddenly slipped off to the side, grabbing your hands before you could complain about the loss and drawing you up onto your knees. 

“Come, sit on my lap, we’re gonna do it like this so you can control how fast we go,” he explained as he patted his thighs, “Stretched you out a bit but the last thing I wanna do is hurt you, darlin’.”

The thought of sitting on him was less than ideal but you gave into him at his gentle insistence. With his help, you crawled onto his lap, hovering with his cock just against your lips. 

“Have you done it this way before?” he asked. 

“No, I don’t think so,” you replied shyly.

“Alright, so you’ll start like this, it’ll let you control how deep we go until you’re comfortable, and then once you’re ready, I’ll help you put your legs behind me.” 

Your lips quirked up at the mental image and you couldn’t help but giggle. 

“I know, it sounds silly, but I promise, it’ll be best for you,” he explained with a boyish grin, “And plus, it’ll let me see your beautiful face and these gorgeous tits.” 

With a little nod, you carefully widened your kneeling stance and took hold of his cock, guiding him to your entrance. Just feeling his head against you was enough to light that fire in your core again. 

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered as you lowered your hips. 

Your nails were sure to leave marks on his shoulders as you held on for deal life, relishing in the burning stretch of your walls accommodating his size. He didn’t seem to be faring much better if the hiss he let out was any indication. 

“There you go, slow and steady, princess,” he purred encouragingly, hands resting on your hips to help guide you. 

 With a surge of confidence, you silenced him with the sudden drop of your hips, groaning when it felt like the air had been knocked out of you. His name came out as a prayer as you wiggled your hips, impatiently trying to get him in inch by inch. It was a good thing you were soaking wet because otherwise, you wouldn’t wanna think about how hard it’d be to get even that far. After a moment, it felt like too much and you had to pause, taking in deep steadying breaths. 

“I know, princess, I know. But you’re taking it so fuckin’ well,” John groaned, “Just take your time. There’s no rush, baby.”

Baby. Fuck. Out of all the names, that one felt the most intimate for some reason. It made your toes curl and pushed you past the hump, giving you the power to keep going. Mama didn’t raise no quitter, as the saying goes. A grin crawled across your lips at the look of pure devastation and pleasure that crossed his face when you finally wiggled again. His head fell back and a devilish growl escaped his clenched teeth. Fingers clawed at your plush bottom and held you in place as you teasingly swayed your hips. It was clear you were more than ready before he was, which you’d take as a massive compliment.

“You feel so fucking good, daddy,” you murmured, grabbing one hand and bringing it to your mouth.

Those beautiful crystal blue eyes had barely met yours before you sucked his thumb between your lips and clenched your core tight. 

“Fuck!!” he hissed, thighs jumping under yours, “You- God!”

Swirling your tongue around his thumb and sucking on it like a lollipop, you let your hips settle down further, burying him deliciously deeper in your core until there was no more space between you. Your eyelids fluttered shut against the sudden surge of pleasure igniting in your belly, trying to fight it back. You wanted to focus on him. It was just so hard when he filled you to the absolute maximum that your body could handle. Once you didn’t feel so close to the edge, you rocked your hips left and right and back and forth, watching his face closely and soaking up the unrivaled lust that showed. 

“Come here, balance on me, and let’s swing this leg out,” he said hoarsely.

With his instruction, you were able to sit with your legs crisscrossed behind his back and it only pushed him that much further into your cunt, your walls greedily sucking in every inch. The moment you were stable, he was quick to advance on the opportunity, free hand palming your back and jerking you toward him with a hungry moan. Before you could react, he had you melting in the palm of his hands, lips hungrily sucking at your left breast while his fingers plucked the right. All your fight, your will to do this entirely on your own, flitted away slowly with each stroke. 

When you finally started moving again, you almost came immediately, a panicked gasp catching in your chest at the way your clit rubbed against his pubis. His warm chuckle barely filtered through your haze until his fingers snarled in the hair at the base of your neck and he jerked you into an achingly sweet kiss, his other arm wrapping around your back. 

“That’s it, beautiful, just like that,” he cooed gently. 

Of all the fantasies you’d had about John, nothing had ever quite stood up to this. There was something more to this than just raw, animalistic sex and it made your heart beat just a little bit harder. 

Every rock of your hips was aided by him, drawing you that much closer and easing the strain on your legs. Soft praises spilled from his lips, encouraging little moans telling you how good you felt, how beautiful you were, how he wanted to stay like that forever. It was almost enough to make you cry but the ever-growing pressure in your core kept your senses on high, making your brain focus more on the pleasure than the intimacy you didn’t know you craved from the big man. Your forehead pressed gently against his as your eyes rolled back and you clawed at his shoulders. There was so much to take in, the passion and emotion both physical and mental, and you were starting to lose grip on all facets of control. Thankfully, he seemed to match your sentiment, hands suddenly pulling you to a halt as he let out a groan. 

“I want you on hands and knees,” he demanded gruffly, “Can you do that?” 

Nodding hastily, you carefully untangled yourself from him and grabbed a pillow, shoving it beneath your hips to help keep you at the perfect angle. 

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded gravelly with a sharp smack to your ass. 

With a whimper, you wiggled your hips at him and gasped, “I want you in me. Fuck me, please!”

He lined his cock up and immediately slammed in with a heady groan, all sense of worry and compassion gone. Your nails tore into the sheets as he stretched through your walls without hesitation. It was so much at once. That other position had truly babied you against his size. Now, now you were feeling every single fucking inch. Your body instinctively fought against the depths he reached but, mentally, you wanted nothing more than to keep him there for the rest of all time. 

“Fuck, oh my god, it’s- mmm- s’too much!”

“Relax, little one. I know it’s a lot,” he purred, hands stroking along your back lovingly.

“Mmmm, yesss. Hurts so good,” you whimpered mindlessly.

“Yeah, but you can take it; can’t you, princess?” he groaned as he started to rock his hips. 

Those dirty words were spoken in such a sweet, soothing tone that it made your heart do backflips, a seductive check-in on your mental state and willingness. You nodded against the mattress with a little moan. 

“I can- Fuck, I can handle it,” you cried, “Take me, use me.”

He let out a rumbling moan and leaned forward, fingers snarling in your hair and yanking back with a sigh. 

“That’s right. This tight little pussy takes me so damn well. Gonna fuck you and make you come so hard you can’t walk afterward,” he snarled. 

You felt like a marionette doll, bent and twisted to his desires, and it felt so fucking satisfying. Every stroke of his cock did unbelievable things to that bundle of nerves deep in your core, and as he moved faster, you could feel your climax taking hold. 

“Yeahhh, I can feel you tightenin’ love. You feel so fuckin’ good,” he groaned, “That’s it, be a good girl and come for daddy now.”

All at once everything coalesced and your vision went black as your world slammed down around you. As he fucked you from one climax right into the next, you felt the tears you’d been fighting finally fall, streaming down your cheeks under the paralyzing rapture. It felt like it was never-ending but then he pulled out, leaving you a babbling mess. 

“Wha-”

Your question was cut off as he grabbed your hips and tossed you over onto your back. The instant you were facing him, he lifted you up and you were quick to wrap your legs around his hips for balance, one hand on the bed and the other hooked around his neck. As he ducked down, you welcomed his kiss as if it were life-saving. 

No words were spoken beyond grunts and moans of euphoria but there was no denying the conversation flowing between your bodies. Overwhelming and heart-pounding, desire filled your veins and urged you forward to nibble at his throat. 

“Come with me, John, please.” 

The cry that left his lips as you bit into his neck was devastating and immediately he buried himself as far as possible into you, sending you over once more as his hips shuddered against yours. You thought mindlessly about how there was no better sensation in the world than the twitching of his cock when he came inside you as you trailed your tongue up his neck with a moan. It was the most primal, instinctive claim one could ever have over another.

“Jesus,” he sighed shakily.

You managed a little whimper of agreement as he slowly pulled out. As soon as he moved back, you collapsed onto the bed with a whine. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice somewhere between amused and actually worried.

You flashed him a thumbs-up and caught his gaze with a loopy smile. His answering smirk made your body react and a groan escaped again. 

“Stop being so sexy. It almost hurts,” you whined.   

Laughter filled the room joyously as he plopped down onto the bed next to you. As he drew you in closer, one hand found yours and brought it to his lips. Eyes fluttering open, a rush of embarrassment flooded your cheeks as you realized how intently he was watching you. 

“What?” you asked curiously. 

“Just admirnin’ you, darlin’,” he replied easily, “You sure you’re okay?”

A hum of agreement left your lips before you flipped your hand over and laced your fingers between his. You weren’t certain where this put the two of you, but it certainly seemed like more than a one-night stand. You hoped.

“When does Emma get back?” he asked. 

You thought about it for a moment before replying, “Should be back Sunday night, why?” 

He drew your hand to his mouth once more, this time pressing little kisses to each fingertip. 

“Unless you’ve got other things to do, how would you feel about me staying tonight and I can make us breakfast in the morning?” 

You bit your lower lip in hopes of containing some of the surely stupid joy rolling off of you in waved as you gave a little nod. He smiled back warmly but there was a look of uncertainty that passed through his gaze as his other hand sunk into your hair, drawing goosebumps across your skin as he played with the strands. 

“And then, if you can put up with me for long enough, I want to take you and the munchkin out for dinner Sunday night. How’s that sound?” 

At that, you could no longer contain your excitement. Rolling to face him, you leaned up and caught his mouth in a sweet kiss, trying to convey just how happy that idea made you. 

“I’d love to, and I know Emma would be ecstatic. She really adores you,” you admitted warmly. 

“Good, now, we’ve got plenty of time until morning and the electricity isn’t even back on yet,” he murmured deviously, fingers tauntingly sliding down your stomach to your thighs, “What say we work on conquering your hatred of the dark, aye?”

[skipper1331]

One Day // Vivianne Miedema

a/n: based off this and this request - thought i could combine them.

"Good morning, my love" you whispered as your alarm ringed, the dutch never one to wake up by just an alarm. "We have to get up" your pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, knowing she loved it when she woke up to kisses, "No" said person grumbled while she tightened her arms around you, pulling you closer in her embrace. "We have to" you entangled your body out of her arms, one leg already out of bed as Viv suddenly sat up, "Need kissies" she pulled you back in, your legs resting at either side of her waist, "so needy" you giggled before you littered pecks all over her face, her nose scrunching in responds.

"Now i‘m ready to start the day!"

-

"Liefje" the tall woman called as you were in bathroom, ready to start your morning routine, "what do want for breakfast?" her head chipped in, her eyes roaming over your body as you were in nothing but her too big clothes. A slight blush covered cheeks while her heart fluttered, you never failed to amaze her by you just being you. "Smoothie? Maybe?"

"Smoothie it is" the striker left you alone, making her way down to the kitchen as you continued or rather started your routine. The smoothie was on the counter, already in a cup (your favorite) as you patted to the kitchen, Viv nowhere to be seen. Sipping from the straw, the delicious taste of your favorite fruits hit your mouth - Viv made the best smoothies. "Hm, you like it?" said person asked. "Shit!" you jumped, hand over your chest as you tried to control your breathing, "babyyy" you whined, "I almost dropped my smoothie" grumbling at her, the tall woman poked your cheeks, making you laugh, "i love your laughter" she muttered, eyes full of love as her arms looped around your midsection, "the smoothie?"

"was perfect" you gave her a peck or two, "like you" pecking all over her face. The dutch giggled, her nose scrunching as a big smile broke out on her face.

"Ik houd van jou"

"I love you too"

-

"Liefje, hurry up!" Viv yelled as she stood at the front door, your kit bag as well as her own in her hand. "I can‘t find my bag" your eyes scanned through your bedroom, then the living room - every room. Walking up to Viv you gave up, you had no idea where your bag was, the striker chuckled at your helpless expression. You gave her a glare, how can this be funny to her? With an ease she lifted your bag, waving it in front of your eyes. In reaction you snatched it away, "you let me search for it for 15 minutes, knowing you had it in your hand!" you growled, frowning like a child.

"You’re cute" the dutchie slung her arm around your shoulder as she pressed a kiss to your head, "now let‘s go"

Viv took a seat in the drivers seat while you sat next to her, even though you had the passenger princess privileges Taylor Swift music was playing the whole time on the way to the stadium. You just had to look at the shy girl and you would crumble and do anything for her. So meanwhile she sang to herself yet audible for you (something only you had the privilege to hear) her hand was resting on the bare skin of your thigh, absently drawing circles on it.

-

Derby day.

The blues.

Always a strong opponent.

The stands were filled with red and blue, fans were singing chants, both teams in the tunnel. Viv was behind you, you could feel her eyes on you, like always. Every match the dutch would stand behind you, it calmed her. Her eyes would roam over your figure, always stopping at your jersey. One day her surname will be on the back of it. That was a promise. A promise she made ages ago.

At half time the score was 1-1. Sam Kerr scoring the opening goal while Kim Little scored the penatly. The game was rough, Emma Hayes looked like she was about kill someone and a certain defender was targeting you, Maren Mjelde. Each time you had the ball you hadn‘t had it for long - your body hitting the grass every time. A little push or her leg in your way would cause you to fall. For sure, your body will have bruises tomorrow. Viv was the first by your side, asking If you‘re okay or what hurts. Slowly but surely the dutch was getting angry, how could Mjelde get away with it? No card - no foul. After the 8th time of your body hitting the ground Viv had enough - you didn‘t get up. Lia at your side while Viv was by the Chelsea defender shoving her as she cursed in her mother tongue. Most of the time, the tall woman was calm and collected but not when it came to you. Her patience was very short when it came to you.

Katie had her arms around the dutch trying to pull her away while Kim stood in front of her, pushing her away. Captain duties. As the ref showed Viv a yellow card, the same card Maren Mjelde finally got, Viv was by your side. Her hand wiped the sweaty hair out of your face while the medics examined your ankle, "is it bad?" you whispered, tears running down your cheeks. "I don‘t know, my girl"

Your ankle hurt and you were subbed off but in a few days, everything would be fine. With an ice pack around your ankle you watched the rest of the game, your lover not scoring once but twice. Her reply to your substitution - her statement: do not mess with her girl.

When the final whistle blew, the dutch shook every opponents hand, Maren being the last, "I‘m sorry" she apologized, "i didn‘t mean to shove you" It was simply out of the situation - out of her emotional state. She couldn’t harm a fly, even If she tried. At the end of the day it was just an intense game where no one had any evil intention.

It was important for Vivianne to have apologized. It wasn't like her not to.

Viv was one of the best strikers in the world but she also had her values ​​and morals. If things got more intense on the field, it was important for her to clear the air after.

As it should be.

At the end of the day, every player was only human.

-

You were glad when the match was finally called to an end, ready to go home with your lover. Both of you decided to shower at home, it was already in the evening - you wouldn‘t leave your home anymore. Again the striker behind the steering wheel, this time with her hand in yours as she drove the two of you home. At a red light, she occasionally would press a kiss to your lips as she had not felt them against her own the whole time. Even though every one knew you were a couple, you would act professionally, only in private showing the lovey-dovey side you shared. Yet there were always loving glances and sneaky touches, you couldn't do it completely without - the love you shared was way to powerful and present to hide it.

The tall woman carried your bag inside as you patted after her, your ankle still covered in ice. "Take out, baby?" you asked while you snuggled your arms around her from behind - the dutch being too tall for you to rest your head on her shoulder "sure, your usual?" she asked turning around, her arms going around your shoulders as she craned her neck down, pressing a loving kiss to your head. In agreement you hummed in to her chest, tightening your grip around the striker. "Missed you" you mumbled as an exhausted sigh left your throat. Viv squeezed you, knowing what you meant.

You had missed her kisses.

You had missed her hugs.

You had missed her shy smile and blushing cheeks.

You had missed her.

"Lets take a shower" the taller girl lifted you up, your legs going around her waist as she carried you to the bathroom. She placed you on the counter, "is it okay if i take your clothes off?" she asked. In respond you muttered a tired yes - the dutch made sure everything she did was with consent. She took your shirt off, she asked If it was okay. She took your pants off, she asked If it was okay. That just who she was.

After showering and dressed up in some comfy clothes, the two of you found yourselves sitting on the couch. You had your back leaned against Vivs front as your limbs were tangled together. With your hair and body freshly washed you felt clean again, the striker behind you, ordering the take out while you searched for a series. As you decided which series you wanted to watched you nestled back in Vivs embrace as she silently massaged your shoulders. "Thank you, baby" you muttered contently, eyes closed as the voice of Phil Dunphy filled the background noices. Though, the dutch was sitting behind you, you knew that her cheeks were covered in a blush, her shy smile across her face. No matter how long the two of you had been a couple If you called her any kind of pet name, the girl would squeal inside, skin tingle, heart race, love burst.

When the food arrived, both of you took a seat at the kitchen table and while you enjoyed your meals, you talked about everything and nothing, loving glances and touches being shared.

-

Back on the couch, your head rested in the crook of her neck, legs tangled as her fingers combed through your hair in a manner to help you fall asleep. Pressing featherlight kisses to her neck, you mumbled inaudible words - the taller girl pulling you close(r). The series in the background long forgotten as your breathing evened out, soft snores hitting Vivs neck. Vivianne continued to watch the episode of modern family before she carried you to bed. She tugged you under the blanket like a burrito, herself laying next to you as she pulled you in her arms - she could only sleep with you in her touch, knowing you were safe.

"Good night, liefje, Ik houd van jou" she mumbled, pressing a long and final kiss for the day to your head before she settled in to the pillow. It didn‘t take long for the striker to fall asleep - dreaming about you.

Mrs. Miedema, one day.

———————

[marilynthornhilllover]

Just a little bit Colder

Mean!Vanessa shelly x fem!Reader

Warning: smut, bathroom sex, use of vibrator, clitoral play, cunniligus ( literally 2 licks) , enemies to lovers, hate sex, degradation at the finest, slight praise kink, mommy kink, sucking of nipples, choking and slapping kink, smoking of cigarettes, pet names, age gap, slight spanking, hair pulling, mean vanessa, orgasm denial, naive reader etc the list terribly goes on.

You and Mike had been friends for quite some time. The both of you first met eachother at a Cafe that you once worked at, one morning abby his younger sister was having a little tantrum because Mike didn't want to buy her Lemon donuts, being the generous person that you were you offered to purchase them for her out of your pocket money.

Obviously Mike refused, thanking you for the kind gesture but the little girl just wouldn't stop fussing. About one decade or eternity later she left him with no other option than to take up your offer. The both of you exchange numbers and they left the Cafe.

Now that was about two months ago. You never heard back from Mike. Not that you wanted too. It's just a little small conversation would be nice. You brushed it off as nothing and carried on with your life. Mike was not your type to begin with and the both of you were the same age, and you had a thing for older people.

You were at your friends house for her brother birthday party when you heard a notification from your phone. You glanced at the screen to see a pop up message from Mike.

It read : sorry to ask such a big favor of you so late, especially how we don't really know eachother quite well, but guessing by the gesture you made the other day I hope your a kind person. Would you mind watching my little sister tomorrow at 7am, I have a little mission at the station and it's gonna take all day and I don't wanna leave her home unattended.... please?

You sighed gently before pushing your phone back into your pocket. It's not that you didn't want to, or that you had a problem with babysitting his little sister, the poor guy just needs a hand. But there's no way your gonna get up at 7 am in the morning just to watch some dudes sister for the entire day.

You had other things to do and places to be. You tried your best to enjoy the rest of the night but your phone just kept going off, drawing your friends attention to you.

" who's messaging you so much y/n" asked one of your close friend ava. You flashed her a annoyed face before pulling out your phone from your back pocket. Again a pop up message read.

" please, I'll even pay you if you'd like"

You groaned softly before typing out a quick response.

" I'll think about it and message you in the morning, I'm busy right now, just like you I also have a busy life" if it sounded harsh then that's because you intended it to sound harsh. You pushed your friend playfully back into the party mood as the both of you danced your souls away for the rest of the night.

After you got home you undressed and took a quick shower. As you were doing your skincare routine your phone dinged again. You huffed glancing down at what he had to say this time.

" 300$ and I'll add a 50 if I'm late after work, it's your time really and I'd appreciate it" you sighed, at this point you gaved in. Once more you texted a quick reply before entering your room to dry off.

" I'll be there as early as I can *smilie face emoji* ".

The next morning you groaned as the sun light kissed you from behind the curtains. sighing you took a slight glance at your alarm clock.

9: 45 A.M

You practically flew from your bed, your duvet quickly being abandoned on the floor. You checked your phone to see four missed calls from Mike and three pop up messages asking where you were and if your still on. You mutter shit over and over again before dashing into the shower. After getting ready you tried calling Mike but there were zero response.

It's either he turned off his phone or he blocked your number.

You checked your chat to see if he had sent you his location before quickly driving over to his place.

You pulled up in his driveway and parked your car. You fixed your hair and lip gloss before walking up to the door and knocking gently. Your mind wondered off as you tried to come up with excuses to tell Mike as to why you were late, or after all his car wasn't in the driveway so you diverted your mind to ways in which you can try trick a little girl into thinking you weren't a completely bad person for showing up late.

You were snapped out of your trance when the door flew open. You averted your eyes to the person infront of you. Standing infront of you was a very, very good looking blonde hair lady dressed in police clothes. She was a slight dirty blonde, crystal blue eyes and a nice fucking body shape. Her facial expression however spoke for itself.... it wasn't as pleasant as she seem to appear.

" yes?" Her voice was warm, welcoming, yet so cold and bitter as if she was someones old grummy grandfather who already accepted his fate and wanted to go out to this world. Your words got caught in your throat as you took a step back away from her. It's as if all of the air was pushed out of your lungs.

You didn't want to be viewed as some creep so you quickly answered.

" um, i- uh I'm here for abby" you spoke, looking behind her to see the young girl on the sofa with another young girl playing with dolls and stuff animals. You gaze went back to the blonde woman infront of you when she stepped down onto the step below you and closed the door. At this rate she was just centimeters away from your lips.

You could feel her hot breath tickle the hairs on your neck as she loomed over you by perhaps two inches.

" you better explain yourself properly young lady before I arrest you, for trespassing and attempt of kidnap of a minor" she spoke, her hand reaching for her gun slightly. You'd be lying if you said she didn't look hot right now. A slight hair strand blowing in her face, eyebrows stressed together and lips perched together closely.

" trespassing? Fucking kidnap? Who are you judge judy? Look Mike had asked me last night if I could watch Abby for him today, I woke up late and he's not answering his phone, I don't know what hero your try'na play, or who you are but you need to chill, it doesn't suit you" the woman's expression changed by the Slightest with her lip curving into a thin smirk but it didn't soften.

She stepped back up on the door step and pulled out her phone, she dialed some numbers before the Phone began ringing. She eyed you suspiciously before Turning around just as the person picked up.

" hi, yeah mike- no nothings wrong abbys fine. Look there's some girl at your door, claiming" she air quotes the word before sneaking a sheer glance at you before turing back around. " that she's here to babysit Abby" she pauses for a moment while nodding before hanging up. She opens the door and turns her body side ways for you to enter.

Her eyes undressed your body and your choice of clothing as you entered. Just before you could step foot over the line of the door, her hand grapped your stomach and brought you close towards her chest.

" did you forget the occasion or were you originally planning to go to a strip club for some extra cash?" She asked, again you couldn't breathe. She was toxic, like a drug. Her scent was luring. It's like everything about this woman was a trap. She's to good to be true. You removed her hand from your stomach noticing that her hands are vainy. You gulped as you tried your best to suppress the moan that was itching to be realesed from your throat.

You waved at abby and her friend as they made their way inside of Abbys room to continue playing with their dolls. You turned around to look at the woman slowly sipping her coffee as she stared at you intensely. You cringed as you placed both your hands on your hips.

You averted your gaze away from hers, looking around the house you noticed that it wasn't bad. It was quite very modern and slightly fancy, it was small but the coziness of it definitely won over that speculation. You turned back around and to your surprise the blondie was smoking, you sighed as walked up to her. Her eyes immediately locked on yours, so hooded and lingering, filled with what seems to be lust and desire.

" look little girl, if your here to annoy me, just go home, I mean your presence isn't even needed here, abby has me. She surely doesn't need a slut to take care of her i mean come on-" you zoned out, your face showing pure disbelief as you felt utter disrespect. What did she just call you?.... you felt your body shake with rage as your jaw tensed. You were the type of person to have watery eyes when you were angry.

You looked at her badge and saw her name.

" how about you go fuck yourself vanessa, mhm how about that. And who are you to call me a fucking slut? Atleast you've never fucked me. You know what I'll leave and make sure you explain in perfect detail to mike why I left, you little shit" you stormed into the bathroom in a way of trying to calm your nerves.

After some time the door to the bathroom opened and closed. You looked into the mirror only to make eye contact with Vanessa. Before either of you could utter a word to eachother she grabbed your hair from behind forcing you to arch your back as her chest pressed against your back.

You let out a soft whimper looking up at her through the mirror, teary-eyed. Her eyes were dark and sultry as they bore into your soul setting you on fire. She brought her lips close to your ear and her tongue gently licked your earlobe before pulling it into her mouth and sucking on it before her hand that wasn't occupied in your hair travled down your body.

" vanny please-" at this point you could feel as your moral side betray you. your mind went completely fuzzy, your body yearned for her touch, her touch, the touch of the devil herself.

" begging already sweetie, thought you told me to go fuck myself, now you want mommy to fuck you? Is that it?" She asked tugging on your hair harshly, you moaned as your eyes rolled back slightly when her cold finger tips brushed against your clothed cunt.

" so desperate for mommy.... I asked a question slut, do you want me to fuck you" her tone was harsh and demanding as she spanked your ass before rubbing it slightly after you cried out. Making eye contact with her again you noticed she had something in the pocket of her police vest. Something rather bulged and purple colored.

You breath hitched as you groaned in desperation rubbing your thighs together for relief. Upon noticing this vanessa smiled before spanking you again which naturally caused you to reopen your legs, giving her the perfect access needed to get to your cunt. She used her hands to pull down your tank top exposing your breast to her as your nipples erected from the temperature in the room.

You turned your body around swiftly connecting your lips with hers in a heated kiss, as if the bathroom wasn't humid already. Vanessa smirked against your lips as she listened to the whiny sounds you made in attempt to get up onto the counter. She tapped your legs, a way of telling you to jump in which you did before she gently placed you onto the counter.

She pulled away from the kiss leaving a small bridge of saliva from your mouth back to hers. She hitched your skirt up around your abdomen, eyes flicking back up to yours. She watched as you nodded and bit your bottom lip before she proceeded to kneel.

Her tongue ran over the areas of your inner thighs causing you to slightly shiver, your head falling back against the mirror. She smirked before grabbing the hemming of your lace panties - God you really came prepared for her to fuck you. She pulled your panties to the side while still maintaining her mission on leaving only marks for her to see inside of your thighs.

The cold air on your cunt was driving you crazy, you needed her so unbelievably bad, you've had sex with other women but none has come close to making you feel how vanessa is currently making you feel - as if you were floating to a place far, far away where the two of you would be able to fuck forever.

Your fingers intertwined in her golden locks, pulling her face towards your cunt but vanessa was quick, she immediately pulled alway before coming face to face with you. Her eyes were lidded and not a sheer piece of mercy was evident in them. Her gaze dropped to your breast before returning to your eyes.

Again with that Goddam smirk. You gasped as she latched her mouth onto your left nipple, your head fell back as your eyes closed in utter pleasure. You felt as her cold finger tips wonder down your belly, mound then slowly as they crept all the way down to your slit before sandwiching two fingers into your slit as slightly stretched your hole without thrusting her fingers into you.

" oh god- fuck- vanessa please" your moan was soft and breathy as it almost came out as a whisper or a plea. Vanessa's tongue continued to suck horrendously on your small bud as her tongue swirled and poked at it now and then. She chuckled darkly feeling your hips lift in attempt to reach or receive some sort of friction or pleasesure.

" such a good girl mommy" she muttered before releasing your bud with a small ' pop' sound. She gaved you a sinister look before her finger tip began to rub tight , fast circles around your clit. Again your head fell back, grabbing her biceps your back arched off the counter slightly as you lost all control to your moral self, every single ounce of self respect that was left in you.

Vanessa now owned you and your mind, you were now hers.

She could feel as your pussy covered her finger in a new layer of wetness. She watched as your thighs trembled slightly. She gazed up at you but your eyes were already focused on her slender fingers rubbing big circles on your puffy bud. Your skin was drenched in sweat as your chest rised and fell with every breath you took. Feeling your oragsm quickly approaching.

An idea popped into her head and she immediately followed suit. She wanted to see, really how far you'd go for her. She stopped fingering your clit and slid that same finger down to your aching hole before teasing you by circling around it very, very slowly almost not even moving at all.

She chuckled as she felt you clench around nothing.

" Pleasepleaseplease" you whispered as a prayer. She leaned down towards your neck, slowly leaving open mouthed kisses down your drenched skin and your collarbone, causing you to shiver. It's safe to say that you were an absolute raging needy whore for her and only her.

Her hot breath tortured your neck as she spoke up" what do you want my love? Use your words" she husked, her voice deep and husky, slowly draining you of all you sanity. Suddenly you felt as she thrusted two fingers into your cunt, curling her fingers at the right spot as your gummy walls clamped down on her fingers, greedily begging her to stay.

You eyes rolled back as you let out a pornographic moan. Again she removed her fingers from you hole causing you to sigh in utter frustration. At this point you were getting fed up, you wanted what you wanted and she wasn't giving you what she said she'd provide.

" fuck! Would you just fuck me already bitch!" You realized what had just come out of your mouth when vanessa entire face went dark. Her pupils completely delayed. You couldn't read her expressions or even break down what could possibly be thinking. You've never regretted anything in your life more than this moment.

"I'm sor-" before you could finish your sentence you felt a hot stink across your cheek. You turned to look at vanessa, shocked. Did she just... slap you..... you'd probably slap her back but God it just made you get wetter.

" do it again" Vanessa's eyebrow quirked as a slight curve appeared on her lips but just as fast as it appeared it disappeared. Her hand came down again on your cheek causing you to whimper. You felt as her hand gripped your neck in a rather harsh manner. She brought your face closer to hers, lips inches around.

This woman would be the death of you.

Not only was she older by twelve years, she's blonde, has blue eyes, a hot cop and she's rough.

Her hands squeezed your cheeks, snapping you out of your trance. You definitely ignited something mysterious within her, another side that you were longing to see. To feel .

" do not fuck with me little girl. I will fuck you up" her voice crack a little and you tried - you really tried with every cell in your body not to laugh but just your human. Vanessa tightened her grip around your neck and slammed your head against the mirror causing you to moan.

" you take me for a joke? That's what it is? I'll show you the real joke" although you had no clue what she meant you had the perfect idea what she was referring too. Vanessa got up and unzipped her pocket, she pulled out a small shiny pink circle looking object before kneeling again. You felt as her tongue flicked up and down your slit twice before the small object slipped into you.

" get dressed" she demanded and you just compiled. After fixing your clothing as best as possible. you exited after her to find abby and her friend eating Mac and cheese and Mike standing in the kitchen making bacon and grilled cheese sandwich. You froze.

Vanessa was already sitting at the dinner table smoking a cigarette as if nothing had just happened. When she looked eyes on you she immediately averted them back towards mike. She cleared her throat mike turned around to face Vanessa before glancing up at you. He smiled softly.

" hi y/n! So glad you made it, I trust that you two have been getting along?" You nodded and he smiled before glancing over at vanessa who was breathing smoke through her nose, eyes fixed on you, making you shiver as you quickly look away. She left you so needy and destroyed begging for her mercy.

Poor Mike, only if he knew what went down in his bathroom. The sinful Arora he would smell if he were to enter it now. The sweat of the counter, fog on the glass. The smell of sex would haunt him forever.

" I know how...well... unreasonable vanessa can be at time, anyway I came home early for lunch so I thought I'd make us some, wanna stay for some?" He asked and that's when you felt it. The vibrations, the intense shocking in your vagina. You grabbed onto the counter as you let out a small mouth which you covered up as a groan.

" sorry. Its just Cramps. girl stuff" Mike nodded in understanding.

" let me get you my mom's old hot water and jel compress" he said before he left to go into the bedroom. You felt Vanessa's piercing gaze. Gazing over at her you both locked together in a trance. She winked at you just as Mike returned. You thanked him and he went back to cooking.

Neither of you broke your gazes. You knew things were about to get heated as she secretly showed you her phone with the vibrators settings. Your chest continued to rise and fall as the ache between your legs only continued to grew. Vanessa shelly will be the death of you.

[beauttifullife]

Maybe you need a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend.

Agatha had just taken a bite of her pizza when Nicky blurted out.

“Daddy has a new girlfriend. Amanda. She’s nice. She took me to the zoo.”

She froze mid-chew.

So, James is seeing someone—again.

Her ex-husband had gone through a rotating lineup of women since their separation, most of whom came and went before she even had the chance to meet them. And, like a cliché of wealthy divorced dads, James didn’t exactly date in his age group. Agatha had met one or two over the years, all of them at least twenty years his junior.

James was fifty-two, for God’s sake.

It was ridiculous.

Nicky kept talking, oblivious to her thoughts.

“Daddy is happy. He smiles more.”

He took another bite of pizza, then paused, his small brows drawing together as his nose scrunched up in that familiar way he did when he was thinking hard.

Agatha braced herself, recognizing that look all too well. Her son had a habit of speaking with the brutal honesty only a child could wield.

He reached up, pressing his greasy, pizza-stained fingers to her cheek, looking at her with a curious expression.

“You don’t smile a lot.”

Ow.

Agatha winced inwardly.

It is amazing how kids could unknowingly bury daggers in their parents’ hearts with their blunt, innocent observations.

She managed to keep her composure, setting her pizza down as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

“I smile,” she insisted softly, and then, with a mischievous grin, she tickled him, smiling as he burst into giggles and squirmed in her arms. “See? I smile all the time with you.”

When the tickling subsided, Nicky’s laughter faded, and he looked at her with that same serious, searching gaze.

“But what about when I’m gone? Do you smile when I’m gone?”

Damn it.

This kid was trying to kill her.

Agatha opened her mouth, ready to give him a reassuring lie—something simple. Of course, I smile when you’re not here, even though the truth was far from it.

But before she could speak, Nicky’s eyes lit up as though he’d had the best idea in the world.

“Maybe you can get a girlfriend like Daddy—so you can smile even when I’m not here.”

Agatha laughed at that, a startled, genuine laugh.

“You mean a boyfriend, honey,” she corrected gently.

But Nicky only shrugged, as if it made no difference to him.

“You didn’t smile with any of your boyfriends.”

Agatha stilled, her breath catching as she absorbed his words.

She hadn’t realized Nicky had been watching her so closely, hadn’t known he’d picked up on the things she kept so carefully hidden. She’d thought she’d shielded him from her own disappointments, put on a brave face as she tried to navigate dating again after the divorce.

Yet here he was, perceptive in that unfiltered way only her child could be, seeing through her mask to the truth she hadn’t even fully admitted to herself: that the men she’d dated hadn’t made her happy.

Since the divorce three years ago, she’d tried to move forward. She’d gone on plenty of dates, a few even turning into short-lived relationships, but none had ever clicked. She even introduced Nicky to one or two men she’d thought might last.

They hadn’t.

He hadn’t liked them, and she hadn’t blamed him.

Honestly, she’d barely liked them herself.

Her attempts at dating had all felt empty, like trying to force pieces into a puzzle that just didn’t fit.

Nicky, meanwhile, picked up his slice again and took a big bite, chewing thoughtfully before looking back up at her.

“Maybe you need a girlfriend instead of a boyfriend,” he said, words muffled around his mouthful but clear enough.

Agatha blinked, caught completely off guard by the innocent but strangely perceptive comment. She forced a small, wry smile, hoping he’d move on to a less jarring topic.

But Nicky just kept looking at her, waiting, his wide eyes expectant and curious.

She let out a breath, her mind racing through the events of the past few days, the revelations she’d had, and her unexpected, undeniable connection with Rio. Her son’s words lingered, pressing gently but insistently against the parts of herself she’d barely started to acknowledge.

Finally, she gave a small shrug, her voice softer than usual.

“Maybe, kiddo,” she murmured, reaching out to ruffle his hair with a gentleness that felt like both a reassurance to him and a grounding touch for herself. “Maybe.”

Nicky grinned, clearly pleased with her response, and dove back into his pizza, blissfully unaware of the quiet stirrings within his mother’s heart.

[moonlitgraffiti]

S o. As few people are probably aware, over a year ago, I made a joke post that Joseph Pulitzer and Theodore Roosevelt are bitter exes in Livesies and that I would not be elaborating.

... As many fandom things tend to go, it is Definitely not a joke anymore. As such, I will now be elaborating as I did not all those months ago. For those of y'all willing to at the very least entertain it, strap in.

A l r i g h t so for everyone coming along for the ride, let us begin at the basics: the canon we are given to start with. Early in act I, we see even m e n t i o n of Roosevelt gets under Pulitzer's skin; he gets loud, he gets angry, he has to rein himself in. He will find any means he can to criticize and does not shy away from it.

Roosevelt does not come up again until late, l a t e game, where he shows up unannounced in Pulitzer's office. And it's where things start getting very interesting.

Pulitzer tries to be professional with him, tries to address him in a proper manner, calling him "Governor", trying to lay out his case before him from the start. But Roosevelt doesn't display much interest in this propriety. When he first lays eyes on him, he calls him "Joseph", and nothing more. Medda gets her full name, and he does not address anyone else. It's familiarity, and also some slight disrespect on Roosevelt's behalf. But it's also t e a s i n g, he smiles, he seems to enjoy watching him squirm. Not to mention the comfort in Pulitzer's personal space.

(Now kiss.)

He waves his power in Pulitzer's face, all the while refusing to call him anything other than "Joseph", despite Pulitzer trying to iron out the interaction into anything vaguely professional.

We also have the "hard heart, soft head" exchange.

Theodore where are you l o o k i n g??

After Jack manages to get a deal from Pulitzer and these two are standing up on the platform together, they continue to antagonize each other. But Pulitzer seems to be sliding into Roosevelt's game: he calls him "Teddy", a name which Roosevelt's real life counterpart despised. He moves to push his cane into Pulitzer's chest, and when Jack interrupts them, they both turn to give him this look:

I'm sorry, was he interrupting something?

Foreplay?

Sadly, here is where our canonical events end. However, now we jump into the richness of the relationship.

In the events we see in Newsies, I see this pair as bitter exes. As it so happens, based on the timeline of reality, Pulitzer and Roosevelt were in New York City at the exact same time for a while, immediately after Roosevelt's wife died. (I feel it important to note here that while I draw from real events, this is not to be intended as RPF. This is for the characters Newsies, specifically Livesies, has made of them both and only these characters. The real Pulitzer and Roosevelt led vastly different lives and neither were even present for the strike at all. So Newsies is fudging it, and so will I.)

At any rate, Roosevelt would have been young and vulnerable and emotional during this time. He and Pulitzer catch each other's eye, and after an age begin a tentative love affair. But Pulitzer can't bring himself to be open and honest with his emotions, especially not in a way that a vulnerable Roosevelt would so desperately need, and is too blinded by his own ego to see that he is causing problems.

Feeling ignored and twice brokenhearted, Roosevelt takes off to the Dakotas after the end of the legislative session without telling Pulitzer. This leaves Joseph confused and hurting, bitter and angry, and never wanting to see him ever again.

Years pass, and Roosevelt's fame grows. Pulitzer grows more and more bitter, thinking about the abandonment he's convinced himself was his reality. Until they meet again. Roosevelt as governor to confront him as a titan.

And so brings us to canon day. When your skinny, fiery, weak voiced lover crashes back into your life and he is big, loud, confident, and sexier than he's ever been.

I'm not asking you to ship it, but I'm asking you to at least consider how it can be compelling. Rekindling a love affair that ended so badly when both parties are older, wiser, and much better equipped. For those of you that want to see Pulitzer suffer, he will! That personal growth to force him out of his closed off emotional constipation, to make him confront that he isn't alone and doesn't have to be. And to slowly trust each other again.

[pinkpastels113]

Bechloe accidental first kiss

Beca, of course, had always thought about kissing Chloe. She’s beautiful, warm, and quite frankly the whole reason Beca is having such a great time at Barden. Beca’d come to the realization that she had a crush on her best friend ages ago, and every day that came after that was just another day that Beca had to stifle the urge to do just that.

She thought about how soft Chloe’s lips would be- she always saw her reapply her chapstick religiously- and dreamed about how cute it would feel like to stand up on her tip toes and wrap her arms around Chloe’s shoulders. She wanted to have Chloe hold her as more than a friend, in places more than just the couch in the Bella House.

Beca is not completely sure that Chloe likes her back- no matter what Stacie or Emily or anybody else says- so that’s why she hasn’t yet made her move. She’s not a complete wimp- she’d made out with Jesse in front of all those people in Lincoln Center after all- but she is not going to be rejected by her best friend, damn it. Beca doesn’t think that she can’t take it, the awkwardness nor the loss of friendship. Chloe is her favorite person, ever, in the world, and Beca doesn’t know what she would do with herself if she ruined that.

The only problem was, Chloe is touchy. She touched Beca everywhere, on the arm whenever she laughs, the hand whenever she wants to listen to some music that Beca had mixed, the waist whenever she wishes to get by. Normally Beca is used to it, but sometimes she still gets caught off guard and jumps whenever she is not paying attention.

Such as today.

"Okay, okay," Chloe says, trying to catch everybody's attention. "We have the decorations here, Jessica and Ashley are going to put on the music, and Beca is laying out the cookies. The Trebles are going to be here in about an hour girls, let's move it."

Why Beca had agreed to take care of the baking, she does not know. Certainly not because Chloe had tried her mom's chocolate chip cookie recipe last week and begged Beca to recreate it, that's just too pathetic.

Beca sighs, folding in the chocolate chips. She has one more step to go, and then she can shove them in the oven and never think about it again. Chloe can take them out. It was her idea anyway.

Finished with gently laying in the chocolate with the dough, Beca goes to look for the scooper. She opens the drawer where they usually keep it, but it's not there.

"Hey, Chlo! Where's the scooper? I need it for the cookies."

"Hm?" Chloe glances back over her shoulder from the living room, where she is taping a string of Christmas lights from the ceiling. "Oh I think I have it in my room. I used it last night for some ice cream."

Beca raises her eyebrows. "For some ice cream? Really? That's like... a pretty big spoon, don't you think?"

Chloe huffs, rolling her eyes. There is a smile on her lips and Beca is proud that she placed it there. Teasing is too much fun. "Well I have a pretty big appetite, especially for sweet stuff like ice cream. You know that."

"Uh huh." Beca is already washing her hands and making her way into Chloe's bedroom. "I should have put salt in these cookies then, so you wouldn't eat them all."

Chloe's room is a mess. Books on her bed, clothes on the floor, bra hanging over a desk chair. Beca tries not to stare at it as she turns around in a circle to locate the ice cream/cookie scooper. Knowing Chloe, it could be under her bed for all Beca knew. She was just about to bend down and pull the comforter over when something catches her eye.

A journal. On Chloe's pillow.

It was open to two pages, left side scribbled on, right side with a drawing. Ethically, Beca knows that she shouldn't, but curiosity gets the better of her when she sees something written in Chloe's loopy lettering that might be her name. Stepping over a novel from some Russian author, Beca picks the journal up.

She barely had time to register that the drawing was of her bent over her laptop when Chloe pinches her waist. "Hey I found it-"

Beca practically jumps out of her skin at the sudden contact. "Jesus Chr-"

Chloe's mouth brushes the corner of Beca's. They both freeze. Beca's hands slip on the journal balancing in her palm and it tumbles down to her feet but neither seems to notice. They're too busy trying to understand what just happened. Beca's face is turned towards Chloe's and her heart is making itself known in her ribcage with the speed at which its beating. Her brain sizzled and sparked like a backup generator kicking into gear in a blackout.

They're still standing two inches apart. Beca's eyes look into Chloe's and Chloe's look back, both surprise and a little bit of fear reflected in those bright blues. Chloe seems to hesitate, before pulling her hand away from Beca's body. When Beca didn't make an effort to move, or push her away, Chloe swallows, and opens her mouth.

"Look, Beca, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Beca blinks. Dazedly. "What?" Holy crap, Chloe Beale just kissed her. "About what?"

Chloe gestures between them. "That." Her breath is warm and smells like candy, and god, her lips look so soft. "We shouldn't have kissed. I scared you, and you hadn't been paying attention, and I really do want to kiss you, like so so freaking bad, but like not like this, and I'm sorry that if this means that our friendshi-"

And this time, Beca kisses her. Because Chloe just confirmed that she likes Beca back, and Beca is not a wimp. She kisses her like she imagined she would, and her arms wrapped around Chloe's shoulders and her feet goes to stand on tip toes and Chloe's smile is indeed soft and sweet and tastes like candy and Beca is so glad that she agreed to bake her cookies tonight.

Chloe pushes Beca down onto her bed. Her teeth nips on Beca's bottom lip before trailing to her neck and Beca can feel herself shiver. "You really shouldn't have been going through my journal, either, y'know."

"Yeah well, I have a pretty big appetite, especially for mysterious stuff like journals. You know that."

Chloe laughs, right into Beca's skin. Her fingers brush on Beca's thighs and Beca starts, again, because she really doesn't think she can ever get over Chloe suddenly touching her in all the right places. "I do now."

[sunnebeam]

good for a weekend.

DRABBLE.

pairing: jung hoseok x reader

warnings: smut (minors do not interact), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (yall know the drill, let's be protected irl), sex against a window, blank space au, chaebol!reader (she has issues), businessman!hoseok, profanity

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: took me a long time to choose the title for this one bc i just realized i already used a blank space lyric for jimin's drabble lol. but anyways here it is! idk the accurate word count but i think this is longer than all my other drabbles so far. enjoy <3 don't forget to share ur thoughts and give feedback ^^

When you were younger, you didn’t really understand why no one wanted to be friends with you.

Apart from your butler Yeonjun (who's paid to put up with your shit but is still genuine in his companionship nonetheless), a paintbrush and a canvas were the only real confidants you had for your pent up frustrations as a child.

Now that you're older, your isolation becomes more self-induced.

"Is it true that she's back together with Kim Taehyung again?”

“No, I heard that her family arranged for her and Park Jimin to marry next year...”

“But wasn't she spotted looking cozy with Jeon Jungkook at a bar last week?”

"No, no, I could've sworn she was hooking up with Min Yoongi—"

"Damn, she's going through men way too fast, don't you think?"

“Honestly, I think she's just a spoiled, rich playgirl."

You sigh, sitting on your chair in the art room of your very own mansion — a gift from your father after he missed out on your eighteenth birthday — while Yeonjun watches you paint your heart out.

“I haven’t seen Kim Seokjin around lately…” he muses as he steps closer to look at your work. By the looks of it, you must be feeling some pretty angry emotions.

“Silly Yeonjun,” you giggle too loudly, hand gripping your brush rather forcefully as you stare at your palette. “Seokjin and I broke up ages ago. Actually, I haven’t seen him since the haircut incident.”

Ah, the haircut incident…

Yeonjun shivers, remembering that outburst all too well. The memory of you hysterically chopping off your hair in a fit of jealousy while Kim Seokjin helplessly tried to get you to stop. That marked the end of your six-month relationship, leaving you with uneven chunks of hair and the man with a questionable restraining order.

Not your best moment, that much you can admit.

“Anyways,” you snicker, shaking your head to clear the onslaught of memories, “let’s not talk about him anymore, ‘kay?”

You stand up, leaving your painting half-finished, and walk over to the big floor-to-ceiling window.

Your mansion is the biggest in the area, filled with numerous rooms and spaces that far surpassed the amount you need for basic living. Your art room – easily the biggest room, even topping your master bedroom – houses a beautiful glass window that overlooks the property.

“Besides,” you say, clapping your hands, “we have more important things to worry about.” You turn to him and squeal, jumping up and down. “My art exhibit is in a couple of months! Can you believe it, Yeonjun?"

Your excitement has you skipping around the room in glee. You’ve been planning your own exhibit for months and now that it's drawing nearer, you feel more excited than nervous. You hope with all your heart that this exhibit could finally paint you in a proper light, letting you shine as 'the young, twenty-something art extraordinaire' instead of the 'resident fuckgirl who's only good for a weekend.'

“I know, sweetie.” Yeonjun smiles, feeling genuinely happy for you. But before he can further share in your excitement, the doorbell rings.

The noise makes you glance at your watch and smirk. Right on time.

Together, you and Yeonjun walk down the massive staircase to greet your guest, and Jung Hoseok hears you before he even catches sight of you — the clicking of your heels resonating loudly across the living room. He turns his head to the sound and smiles handsomely at the both of you.

For a few moments, none of you say a word but the electricity between you and your guest is hard to ignore.

"Shall I leave you to your business?" Yeonjun breaks the silence, directing the question at you. After all, at this point, he already knows the drill whenever you have your guests over.

You nod, never taking your eyes off Hoseok's and your butler immediately excuses himself.

Once it's just the two of you left, Hoseok holds out a hand to you. “Jung Hoseok. Pleasure to meet you."

You tell him your name, placing your hand in his and immediately, he brings it up to gently brush his lips against your knuckles. “Pleasure's all mine, Hoseok."

“Just Hobi is fine, gorgeous."

He winks at you and smiles. And just like all the other times, you feel yourself falling. Spiralling. Obsessing.

“Hobi…” you repeat, “shall we go over the terms of your company's sponsorship for my art exhibit?”

“Of course,” he responds. "Shall we discuss it in your office?"

"Oh no," you feign disappointment.

"What is it?"

“I'm terribly sorry, Hobi,” you utter, “but my office is under renovations at the moment—"

(It isn't.)

"—and I’m afraid it's not convenient for business discussions for the time being.”

“Is that so?” Hoseok muses, his eyes on your lips as you purse them contemplatively. “Should we take our discussion somewhere else, then?” He offers, not wanting to cut his visit short.

He stares right into your pretty eyes and he swears you've performed some sort of magic right then and there because he finds himself right under your spell.

“Good idea." You smile, your hand sliding up to rest on the crook of his elbow as you lead him up your stairs. “I know the perfect place.”

And that's how he found himself in your bedroom, sitting on the edge of your immaculate bed with your head bobbing up and down between his legs.

"Shit," he curses when you take him deeper in your mouth. "Yeah, that's it, gorgeous."

You look up at him with wide eyes, making sure to maintain eye contact when you swallow around him. He bites his lip at the feeling, his thumb reaching out to wipe the stray tears running down your cheek.

You look so pretty. So fucking gorgeous.

Hoseok wonders how the hell he managed to get an invitation to your bed. Sure, he's quite attractive but you're in a whole other league of your own. You're way up there on a pedestal, you and the other chaebols in your wealthy family's circle. Whereas, he's just a mere businessman trying to negotiate a sponsorship proposal.

But, fuck, he's not complaining.

You whine when he pulls you up and onto his lap, your lips releasing his dick with a pop. Feeling needy, you suckle at the soft skin of his neck while he desperately removes your clothes and then his.

"Hobi," you whimper into his neck and the sound goes straight to his already hard cock. "Need you. Please."

"Shit," he groans when you rub your leaking core against his thigh. "Hold on to me."

You comply, wrapping your arms and legs around him, and he stands up to walk the both of you towards your bedroom's clear, glass window. Just like the one in your art room, this one spans wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling, and overlooks the front of the mansion.

He sets you down on your feet and turns you around so that you're looking out. Your pussy dribbles even more arousal at the sight of your enormous front gates from the distance, the thought of being seen turning you on.

"Hobi," you whine when you feel his throbbing cock prodding at your entrance, and push your ass out in response.

"Don't hold back, gorgeous," he tells you when you let out a muffled moan. "I want the whole mansion to hear you."

He enters you swiftly, making you groan loudly and press your palms against the window. He pulls back, making you whine desperately and shift your weight on your feet. He slams back inside roughly, making you scream incoherently and fuck yourself back on him.

"That's it," Hoseok groans, "fuck me back."

And you do.

He thrusts into you in rough but deep thrusts. You fuck back into him, arching your back, causing your tits to press against the glass. The added stimulation to your nipples makes you play with your clit, making figure eight motions and heightening your pleasure.

"Shit, gorgeous. You're creaming."

He sees a creamy ring of white on the base of his cock and curses, the sight pushing him closer to his climax. You only whine in response, clenching around him uncontrollably.

"Hobi, I'm gonna—"

"Cum with me, gorgeous," he coaxes you. "Now."

You obey, cumming around him while he finishes inside you. You're breathing heavily, relishing in the warmth of his release and he just chuckles affectionately at your fucked out face.

He pulls out of you and when you lead him back to your bed, he suddenly feels exhausted. His eyes can barely stay open and the last thing he remembers before sleep takes over him is your voice telling him three little words.

When Hoseok wakes up, he sees you all dressed, propped up on the headboard and glaring at him.

"What's wrong, gorgeous?" he asks groggily.

"Who's Sooah?" you ask him immediately, your voice clipped.

"What?"

You show him the unlocked phone in your hand. His phone.

"What the fuck? You went through my phone?"

"She was texting you nonstop. Who is she?"

"She's a colleague, not that I need to explain myself to you. And she's the venue coordinator for your art exhibit!"

"I don't beleve you!"

"How the fuck did you even know my password?"

"Are you cheating on me?" you demand, tears falling down your face.

"Cheating on you?" he repeats your question incredulously. "We literally just met!"

But you aren't listening to him. No, you're spiralling, clutching your hair and looking at him desperately. "Did I do something wrong? Is she prettier than me? Is she—"

"You're insane," he cuts you off, frightened at your sudden behavior. As quickly as he possibly can, he puts on his clothes and scrambles towards your bedroom door. "Fuck this shit, I'm leaving."

To his surprise, you don't follow him, though he can hear your heartbroken wails all the way to the front door. When he gets to his car, his eyes widen and his jaw drops.

"WHAT THE FUCK? YOU WRECKED MY CAR?!" he yells, the question directed at you but his exasperated eyes are trained on his wrecked vehicle.

The punctured tiles, cracked windshield, and dented exterior would cost him a fortune. But he decides that's a problem for another day. Right now, he just has to get out of here.

"Crazy bitch," he mutters when he finally exits your property gates on foot.

Back in your room, you cry your heart out while Yeonjun caresses your hair comfortingly.

Your butler knows the drill by now. You just need one day to cry all your tears, another day to forget about it, and around three more days to move on.

Which is why, a few days later, Yeonjun opens the door to a charming, dimpled face. He leads the man to the living room where you're waiting and leaves you two to your business.

"What's your name?" you ask your guest.

"Kim Namjoon," he replies, taking your hand and kissing it. "Pleasure to meet you, gorgeous."

A heartbeat. Then another.

And then you smile.

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[eyesteeth]

tsv ramblies, spoilers for the most recent public episode

[I AM NOT ON THE PATREON. IF THERE ARE SPOILERS ON THE PATREON DO NOT PUT THEM ON THIS POST.]

i did post that mini doodle with the caveat of it being a joke because i feel it’d be too low-octane for this late in the series. that particular scenario would depend upon faulkner remaining in the room with rane’s corpse for like seven minutes and somehow not killing himself asap or leaving. while that could happen i think the likelihood is Low. my more realistic vision (plus pure self indulgence + themes overload) is:

since rane literally died like Seven Minutes Ago in canon carpenter is going to be taken to the Big Room only to see rane’s corpse floating in the pool and faulkner not being there

while the person who took carpenter in freaks out over the body, carpenter Instantly deduces what has happened and is like “oh he’s on some horseshit isn’t he. god fuckin damn it”

MARCO POLO ROUND THREE BABY but this time she’s initiating it because she’s the one trying to find him. marcoing up and down the halls and the outside, running around trying to find him

meanwhile he’s off trying to find a good place to die and vaguely hearing her in this distance is Doing Things To Him. my guess here splits in two ways:

he thinks he’s hallucinating because of grief and the god-winds in the area (he is outside)

he’s actively drowning himself at this point and thinks her voice is her calling him to the other side so he starts Drowning Himself Harder (could be outside or inside)

(if it’s the latter i want her to very forcefully wrench him out by the back of the hair for Maximum Disorientation and then shake him like “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??”)

AND THEN… SIBLINGS FIGHT TIME

except personally i think it’s going to be more verbal than physical. i said it ages back but if faulkner looks wretched enough i don’t think carpenter’s going to kill him. and given how it was pretty much stated outright two episodes ago that he’s planning to Finally Do It i don’t think she’d go for it. her character has developed enough that she’s not going to smack around someone visibly trying to commit suicide

i think it’d be much tastier if he asks her to kill him and she’s like “no, live with the consequences of your actions. i’m leaving. if you want to follow me, follow away, just don’t piss me off.” but just because it’s tasty that doesn’t mean it’s realistic

THOUGH I COULD ALSO SEE: faulkner being so hysterically out of it that his mind draws the conclusion of “no i need to have All my family there in the garden she’s fucking up the plan. i need us to both die asap” at which point carpenter engages in self defense and that’s when the “[vigorous shaking] WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING” happens

generally i feel like because they’re both in the “i don’t want to kill anyone but i will if it’s for you” spot in their arcs that they’re not going to actually get too violent with each other but that might just be me coping lol. i just can’t really see carpenter bashing faulkner’s face in and faulkner already tried to kill himself because he thought he had killed her, i think killing her For Realsies is off the table because of that. with the exception of the previously mentioned scenario. thought he’s so out of it at this point who fucking knows tbh

i didn’t think power of love was gonna make it earlier on the season but honestly the power of love might cinch this we’ll just have to see

also if they both make it out whatever fight they’re gonna have i think that a) faulkner is going to ask carpenter to call him richard for however long they still have together and b) he is going to have INSANE attachment issues for the duration

i still think this is going to end with an apocalypse/soft reset ordeal btw. either everyone dies because nothing of the old world can remain, and that means nothing, or some new godless reality gets created and they all live in that (personally i think the latter is too sweet and too neat for this series. however such a reset with a “you never met” caveat would be bittersweet enough imo. the love was there etc etc)

i just, most vitally, want faulkner to be visibly committing/about to commit when they reunite because i like the whole platonic romeo and juliet sleeping drug/poison/knife ass shenanigans they’re doing. shaking faulkner like “NOOOO YOU NEED TO OPEN THE COFFIN BEFORE YOU DRINK THE POISON !!!!! THE TRUTH OF HER LIVING IS BUT A STONE’S TOSS AWAY !!!!!!!!”

and also i want him to be a babbling incoherent mess sobbing to the point of almost throwing up aha who said that

[thenixkat]

ive got 23 chapters left and i'll be caught up on what's out of Kaiju no. 8

kaiju no 10: stop fronting and admit you like fighing just as much as me so we can kill my younger sibling

using swords is more fun than shooting things heh

imagine finding yer platonic soulmate and its a big bloodknight dragon that just wants to fight fuckers and maybe eat you too

of course yall tied a sword to yer tail. 3 swords

that;s what happens when yer fighting two fuckers and dont pay enough attention to teh support

the vice captain and no10 sacrifice their tail to win the fight kaiju no 10, after everything: Cool we beat my younger sibling. That was fun. We should fight your teammates too

the vice captain apparently shut his older brother out of his life years ago for trying to demotivate him and not supporting him

so teleportation is a thing that kaiju can do

…Mina's going to ride her pet tiger into battle against the teleporting monolith and just carry her bfg

the tiger still isnt cool. The exotic pet ownership and animal endangerment is just distracting. AT least put some armor on yer cat also yikes the legs on that tiger are janky

so kafka failed the exams for 5 years b4 Mina was able to take them. Which given he's 5 yrs older than her makes sense

but also sir you failed a test 5 years in a row and then kept trying for another 7 yrs b4 presumably aging out of being able to try until they raised the max enlistment age at the beginning of the story

and then Mina decided to be mad at Kafka for just not being able to pass and leaving her to fight monsters alone breaking his promise to always be there but like he tried for over a decade. some people arent built to join the military

and because she turned out to be talented for taking out big targets she got pushed to having to be perfect by the one the only shitty rich dad who gives everyone issues who he decides to train to be the future of the nation's defense

we just keep finding out that this asshole just traumatizing so many people for teh greater good

oh you have some talent? lets throw you onto the front lines and inform you that if you fail yer risking the lives of yer comrades and civilians

ma'am I doubt Kafka being there would have changed shit other than you'd talk to him more often. Like he would have been at the bottom teir of shit if he was an officer, they'd have his ass on support and evacuation at best if he hadn't have become a kaiju that was deemed useful local high stress career was not good for her mental health

pls dont put everything on one person's shoulders. That's a great way to break them or have them burn out young ma'am Kafka being in the Defence Force would not mean he'd be allowed to be at yer side in situations like this. Yer mad at him when you should be mad at yer superiors for putting all this pressure on you

its easier to blame Kafka than her superiors apparently

good fucking lords that tiger's anatomy is bad damn brah practice drawing animals pls

damn my guy Kafka really busting his ass to achieve his dream, rekindle his friendship with his childhood bestie, and uphold his promise to her when she just decided to use him as a scapegoat for all the pressure she's under that her superiors put on her and decided to freeze him out for not being able to meet the military's standards for enlistment even tho he tried for over a decade both of them just need to find other friends hot damn

like sometimes yer childhood bestie isnt a major badass like you and can't accomplish the thing you both want him too. Getting mad about it is kinda fucked

[strawwritesfic]

Tony Stark x Female!Reader: Angel

Summary: Eccentric he may be, but Tony really does have a handle on the whole fatherhood situation, it seems.

Rating/Tags: T (Father!Tony; Mother!Reader; inaccurate information about breastfeeding and alcohol; alcohol consumption; Post-Age of Ultron; Avengers Tower; not canon compliant; Pepper & Natasha & Reader; Pepper & Natasha & Tony; child-centric; domestic fluff; separation anxiety)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginefire​

Angel

Being a first-time mother wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. You hadn’t expected it to be. Children–especially babies–were a big responsibility, and it didn’t help that your husband was a little eccentric. Nine months ago, you had given birth to a beautiful baby girl. Your life since then had been a whirlwind of sleepless nights, breastfeeding, and changing diapers. All the books told you you’d be busy, but none of them had suggested that you’d be so busy and worried that you would barely see anyone but your husband and daughter for nearly a year.

Apparently the strain was starting to show. When he had found you in hysterical tears while rocking Jasmine at three in the morning, Tony had had enough. You needed a day off, a day of beauty, a day of rest. Please, before he started crying, too. 

You weren’t so sure at first. Leave your daughter? With her father? And who even knew if you still had friends after all this time?

But Tony had put his foot down, and, in the end, you were glad he had. You were even gladder that Natasha and Pepper had been willing to drop everything and come out with you that night. Dinner without baby food being thrown in your face? Delightful. Adult discussion between three adult women? Divine. You almost hated for the evening to draw to a close, but it was dark outside, and you did hate to leave Tony alone to deal with Jasmine’s post-bedtime hunger pangs.

“Is Tony keeping you locked up in the tower over there? Do we need to stage a rescue attempt?” Natasha demanded when you voiced this sentiment.

You shot a discreet look to see if the driver of your limousine had heard this suggestion as the three of you slid in after dinner. Luckily, Happy did not look as though he cared at all what any of you had to say. 

“No,” you said, a little too quickly, then laughed.

“Good, ‘cause your hair is nowhere near close to being long enough for me to climb. I suppose I could get Clint to make me an entry point–”

“No rescue attempts,” interrupted Pepper. “That tower is still Stark Industries property, and I cannot tell you what a headache it is to get damage done by superheroes paid off by the insurance company.”

“You’re no fun, Pep. I don’t think you’ve had enough to drink,” Natasha said.

“And you’ve had too much. If you tried climbing up the tower tonight, I’d wind up with a suicide investigation on my hands on top of everything else.”

“Please. You act like alcohol affects me.”

“Oh, sure,” you broke in, “keep talking about wine in front of the breastfeeding lady. Not like it was bad enough watching you drink it over dinner.”

“Fine, fine.” Sitting back, Natasha peered out the window as the vehicle chugged slowly through the congested Manhattan streets. You must not have been very close your destination, because she soon turned her grin back to you. “I can’t believe you let us drink in front of you.”

“I can’t believe Tony lets you breastfeed,” Pepper said as she eyed your boobs.

You frowned and held a defensive hand in front of them. “Why wouldn’t he let me breastfeed?” you asked, and Natasha replied with an immediate amused snort.

“Well, he probably thinks of them as his, and we all know Tony doesn’t like to share,” said Pepper. “And it doesn’t exactly keep you…pert.”

“My breasts are plenty pert, thank you.” Though you shook your head, it wasn’t in earnest. It felt good to be back among your best friends, even with them teasing you so relentlessly. “Tony doesn’t care if I use them to feed our daughter so long as he gets to play with them later. He’s a good dad, you know?”

“Really?” 

You shot Pepper a look that she returned with a bashful smile. 

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just…he’s Tony. He’s never been very responsible.”

“He’s responsible with Jasmine.”

“I’m gonna call B.S. on that one. If he’s so responsible, why’d it take you nine months to leave him alone with her?” Natasha asked.

“Thank you, Natasha,” Pepper said before you could answer.

“That has nothing to do with Tony,” you said flatly.

“Enlighten us,” said Natasha.”

“How?”

“What does he do?” Pepper asked. “Whenever I’ve come by to see her, Tony is nowhere around.”

“Because he’s busy,” you hedged.

“With what?” asked Natasha.

“I don’t know. Iron Man stuff.”

“Sounds about right,” Pepper muttered.

“He helps,” you said. “Just the other day he–”

“Ladies,” Happy interrupted as the door nearest to you popped open, “we’re here.”

“Thanks, Happy.” With no small amount of relief, you hopped out onto the pavement in front of Stark Tower. Your last name blazed in giant blue letters high above your head–the only lights on, save for a few inside one of the higher floors. “Goodnight!” you called, turning around. “Thank you for…”

Natasha and Pepper, both smirking, already stood outside the car.

“Will you be joining me?” you asked.

“Please,” said Natasha.

“I’d like to see evidence of this so-called responsible Tony you speak of,” Pepper added.

A pause, then you smiled widely. “Be my guests.”

With that, your troop (minus Happy, who left to find a place to park the limo) headed inside. The lobby’s overhead lights flashed on as you marched toward the lift, but not a soul stirred. No one remained on staff this late on weekends now that most of the Avengers had moved to the New Jersey facility. Normally the echoing emptiness didn’t bother you, but then normally you were inside your floor with your family. Out here without them, said emptiness was entirely too good at reminding you of your multitude of worries.

You hadn’t lied when you told Natasha and Pepper that Tony was responsible with Jasmine. It was also true that he was not the reason behind your self-imposed exile. Still, you couldn’t help remembering the last and only time before this that you had left your husband and daughter alone in the tower together.

Jasmine hadn’t been in any danger, of course. It was just that, in only the space of time it took for you to pick up groceries, he had somehow managed to get your daughter in the lower half of a tiny, infant-sized suit of Iron Man armor. He swore up and down that he had no plans to test out the suit’s flight capability, but the fact remained that he had built your baby a suit with flight capability to begin with. After that, your worry over what other things his paranoia might cause him to try didn’t seem so far-fetched.

Not that you were about to mention any of this to your friends. They didn’t need to know that you suffered from your own personal brand of paranoia as well. Besides, you and Tony had hashed all the rules out before you had left for the day. Nothing could have gone wrong, nothing at all.

“What is that?” Pepper asked suddenly, frowning at the lift’s roof. When you followed her gaze, you noticed that the ceiling was shaking slightly–a bad sign, but you did not realize just how bad until you felt bass start to rumble through the entire elevator.

“Sounds like somebody’s being real responsible,” Natasha observed. 

Heart in your throat, you glared at her, then rushed off the lift as soon as the doors rolled open. A wave of loud music hit you like a truck, forcing your eyes to screw shut.

“TONY!” you bellowed. Your voice didn’t even carry to your own ears. You let out a groan and stomped your way up the hall, completely forgetting about your companions in the process.

The rock music grew in volume the nearer you got to the kitchen, so you had to be going in the right direction. What did Tony think he was doing? No way could Jasmine sleep through this racket. And how could he hear her if she started crying? And here you had just been bragging to your friends and his business associates that he was a responsible parent! Responsible parents didn’t have loud parties when they were supposed to watching their children!

“Tony!” you screamed again, bursting through the silver doors into the room all the commotion was coming from. 

Again, you couldn’t even hear yourself, but that didn’t matter when you fell quiet almost instantly at the sight of your kitchen covered ceiling to floor in some sort of greenish goop. You covered your mouth with a gasp, and though that was quieter than your shrieking, it was enough movement, apparently, to catch the eye of the man wiping at the mess. He looked around, spotted you, and all of a sudden the music died away.

“Hey, honey. You’re home early.” Tony approached you, dirty rag in hand, to press a kiss to your cheek.

Instinctively, you shoved him away to scowl into his face. “What did you do to my house?” you said.

He came to a full stop, confusion washing cross his features. Your pointed look at the goop dripping slowly toward the tile seemed to clear that up for him. “Me?” he said incredulously. “That wasn’t me.”

“Who else was supposed to have done it? We agreed no parties!”

“Funnily enough, I do have the ability to recall something we discussed less than half a day ago. There was no party.”

And now Tony was lying to you! “What is all this, then? Where’s Jasmine? Tony, I trusted you to–”

“[Name],” came Pepper’s voice behind you. 

Startled, you turned to see her and Natasha standing there, with Natasha pointing wordlessly to the other side of the room. You whirled about and found Jasmine’s high chair sitting at the end of the kitchen island. Jasmine sat inside it, skin and dark hair covered in the same mashed-something all over your wall. She didn’t seem to notice you were there at all as she picked at the remains of the food on her tray.

Husband all but forgotten, you let out a quiet moan and raced over to your daughter to press your face into the top of her soft head. Your heart had not quite yet stopped racing when you heard Tony ask, “What are you two doing here?” from somewhere across the room.

“We wanted to see you being responsible,” Pepper answered.

“Looks like you did a good job, too,” said Natasha.

“FRIDAY!” Tony called.

“Yes, Boss?”

“We talked about this, didn’t we? We talked about you letting people walk into the house without giving me warning.”

“Miss Romanoff and Miss Potts came inside with Mrs. Stark. Does that still require notification?”

“A little notification might have been nice. Damn, I miss JARVIS.”

You didn’t bother getting involved with the inner workings of Tony’s AI’s programming. It seemed a far more important task to caress your daughter with open hands, checking each and every inch of her beautiful skin for any signs of damage–or perhaps faint indentations left by seams of armor. There were none. Jasmine was every bit as perfect as she had been when you’d left only a few hours ago. 

“She’s fine,” you said weakly. “Just fine.”

To your surprise, Tony had followed you there. He pressed a quick kiss to the top of Jasmine's head himself before rolling his eyes at you. “Sure, I’m the one that threw baby food at the wall. Not your perfect, precious angel.”

“I’d believe it,” said Pepper.

“Nobody asked you.”

With an eye roll of your own, you finally kissed Tony back. Jasmine really was fine, save for being nearly as dirty as your kitchen. A bath would fix that, though, something that couldn’t fix her making a hole in the ceiling if Tony had really decided to teach her to fly. 

“How did you get her to calm down?” you asked.

“Put on some better music,” he answered. “I tried that classical crap you suggested, and Jazz freaked out. Wouldn’t quit screaming until I changed the channel. She’s got good taste, I’ll give her that. Must have got that from her father,” he added with a smirk.

Shaking your head, you pivoted back to your friends. “See? Responsible. He’s great. Now, I’m sorry to kick you out, but we’ve really got to get started cleaning up before this stuff dries.”

You got set to walk Natasha and Pepper as far as the elevator door. There was a lot of scrubbing to do, both of the house and of your child. Before your trio could get very far, however, Tony stepped in the way. 

“Hey. You don’t have to leave just yet.,” he said.

"They…don’t?” you asked blankly, and then Tony was herding all of you back toward the other entrance.

“Of course not. [Name], you were gone for about two hours. While I understand why you don’t think I’m capable of giving you a quiet night out, it still wounds me. Jazz and I have got the situation handled. It’s only eight o’ clock. How about you grown-up girls go into the parlor for a nightcap and some chitchat?”

He ended by pressing his forehead against yours and staring very deeply into your eyes. It was always very difficult to resist Tony when he did that, but you still had to try. “But–”

“That’s an order.” After pressing a finger to your lips to prevent further arguing, Tony stepped away and gestured for the door. 

Natasha and Pepper looked at each other, looked at Tony, then looked at you.

“Sounds good to me,” Pepper said, shrugging.

“I don’t have anywhere else to be,” said Natasha.

They clearly needed no further urging. Without anything else being said, the two of them sauntered around the corner and disappeared. You, however, remained hovering in the doorway. So maybe you were suffering from a bit of separation anxiety, and maybe you just wanted to kick your friends out so you could get back to having your daughter all to yourself. Was that really so wrong?

“[Name], what’s the matter now?” Tony asked.

“I just–you don’t have to clean the mess up all by yourself,” you answered nervously, as though Tony would catch you in this obvious lie. 

He must have, because he let out one of his most dramatic sighs, the kind he usually reserved for when Pepper started heckling him about business, before placing both his (baby food-coated) hands on your bare shoulders.

“Let me be responsible for the kid for once. Think of it as me…asking for a favor. That’s it. I’m asking for a favor. Now go.”

With that, your eccentric husband shoved you out the door. A moment later, and his music started up again–a little quieter than before, though not by much. You had been unceremoniously banished. When you looked over at the bar, you spotted Natasha and Pepper already making themselves at home.

“Got you a Sprite ready,” Natasha called, pointing to a glass sitting on the counter after she caught your eye.

You heaved a sigh of your own. “Gee. Thanks,” you said as you walked over and picked up the cup. Both women clinked their own against yours, and you all took the first swig at the same time. Once you had downed yours, you made a face. “Worst night cap ever.”

They laughed. You even managed a smile in return. After all, Jasmine wouldn’t be a baby forever, and eventually you could go back to drinking real stuff. Until then, maybe it wasn’t so bad to give her some daddy-daughter time every once in a while. Judging by the singing, screaming, and pot-banging coming from the kitchen, those two were having the time of their lives together. And what did you know? Time away with Pepper and Natasha wasn’t so bad for you either.

[revelisms]

Excerpt: What You Needed

After years, Jinx and Vi are reunited—and starting to make amends.

From ‘heron blue,’ an AU where Vi and Jinx reconnect under different terms. Slow, rocky relationship rebuilding, found family messiness, and political schemings. CW: Abandonment issues, dissociation, psychosis, dysfunctional family dynamics Full story on AO3

Her painted fingers clink out a red-capped glass bottle, and hold it stiffly across from her. "You...still like the cherry ones, right?"

Vi takes it from her, slowly, criss-crossed on the blankets across from her. "You bet," she says softly. Her mouth makes a strange twist: not quite a smile. She turns the bottle in her hand. "Still like blueberry?"

Jinx screws off the cap of her own, a glittering spin off the stones. "Uh, yeah—best of the bestest."

The lights hum around them, a pleasant, blitzy static. Jinx draws up her knees, curls her arms around them, and sips. For a long, horrible moment, there's nothing for them to say. Nothing she can get out: the questions stuck in her stomach, in her heart, like lead on her tongue.

Why did you leave me—?

"When...when did you build this?" Vi's looking at the decorations all around them, the paint and the color and glow, with a quiet awe.

Jinx wonders, for a moment, if she means the alcove or the club itself. They'd kept the bones, but rebuilt it all, straight from the ground up. No more smelly storeroom—too many ghosts; all boarded up now. They'd cleaned and sanded and revarnished the floors; painted the rooms, retiled the bathrooms; brought in that beautiful imported glass to bubble around the walls, a new addition to the spaces wholly their own on the third floor, with the same old staff kitchen and storage closets and divots in the walls. 

Jinx shrugs, bobbing her knee. "Oh, I dunno—years ago."

Vi's smiling, now. She looks down at the bottle in her hands: twists off the cap. "I...I missed this, y'know. All your creations."

It lights up something in Jinx's heart, like a little lamp tuned to life. "I—I never stopped, really," she says, a flash of her teeth. "Painted up my room all pretty—oh—I just got this new color in from that big guy in the third district." She props closer, with a brightening grin. "It's, like, the prettiest blue—gonna put it on Whambo. He's gonna be a nail bomb. And I might use it for some details, on Fritz—he's a smoke flare, mostly, but he can double as a firecracker launcher—cool, right? I've been trying to get the combustion ratio right, for ages, but the thing keeps fizzlin' out too early—that old doc's tried to give me equations, but ugh—anyway. Work in progress, Fritz."

And then she's telling her about Jabberwock the ray gun, that she'd engraved with the emblem of a little seahorse—and about the Zing-Dusters she'd built: the respirators they used in the air dispensaries, that she was making a new model of—and the water filtration systems they were going to pilot in the rotted hovels of the Sump, once they got the right treated metals in.

She tells her about Tullo the mechanic, a giant of a man, with hair to his knees and tattoos gaudy as a pirate's, who she gets her imports from. Tullo, who Sevika got in a fight with the other day, after he'd called her arm just for show—and Sevika was a big old ogre, just as awful as ever: she ate blood sausage and grits for breakfast—yeuch!

She's rambling, on and on: the words pouring out of her: a runoff of shaky-laughed, tense-shouldered babbling.

There's so much she doesn't say.

She doesn't tell her about Little Man. She doesn't tell her about the voices in her head, or Mylo or Claggor, or her stuffed rabbit nailed to the wall, or how she spent years and years trying to carve herself in the chasm she'd left behind, not knowing why she wasn't enough, good enough, worth enough to bring her back; or how Silco would find her beating her hands bloody in the old arcade, or how he never laughed, not really, and never, ever cried, except when he talked about Vander, and then he nearly did both; or how, sometimes, when Sevika laid her arm around her, it almost, almost felt like hers—and she does not tell her about how Powder is dead and gone and drowned, drowned in a well, drowned by Jinx's own hands, and Jinx—Jinx is strong, now.

The voices ring through her ears: a pitching, endless drone.

It's too quiet, again.

Jinx swallows, fidgeting. She lifts her eyes from the roof. Vi is just looking at her, looking and frowning, with that burning sort of sadness Jinx hates. She's looking at her, and not saying a word—and for all Jinx doesn't tell her any of that, she is terrified that in some small, terrible way, she knows it, all the same.

"You're quiet," Jinx mumbles. She rips her eyes down, again.

Vi reaches over, wraps her hand beneath her own. "I know—I know. I'm sorry, I'm just..." She huffs out a breath, turning away, staring at the bustle of the streets. "I'm just thinking." She's nervous: her hands heavy and fiddling, so warm over Jinx's own. "It's—it's just..." Vi clears her throat. "It's been so long, I've been—I've been so worried about you."

Jinx scrapes her nail over her thumb. Those words hit something unpleasant inside her—worried about you—plunge a sickly chill in her stomach: a blazing knot of self-disgust, of rage; of sharp, splintered old hurt.

The words trapped in her throat bubble out, before she can stop them. "Why..." They stick like grease on her teeth. "Why did you leave me?"

She knows they cut at her sister. She knows they sting.

Part of her wants them to.

Vi looks down. She weathers her thumb over Jinx's own. "I—I tried to get back to you, I promise." The same as she'd said, before. "I did—but I—"

"You left me." It sounds so pitiful coming out of Jinx's mouth, and she despises herself for it. She yanks her hand out from Vi's own: tucks it under her knee. "I didn't—I didn't understand—"

"I know," Vi hushes. "I know, I—there hasn't been a day I haven't regretted it. Not a single one, from every damned night I was in that cell—but I—I just—" Her shoulders sink. She's looking away, forcing air through her teeth. "I needed time." 

Something blitzes up Jinx's neck: leaves her head twitching.

You're not ready!

She scowls slow at the tiles. "Away from me."

"That's not—"

I told you to stay away!

Jinx scrapes her nails against the stones. "Things changed, when you left." Air shudders against her teeth. She fights the heat broiling in her throat: blinks it quick out of her eyes. "I—I changed," she whispers.

Vi's hands fist between her knees. Something in her turns venomous: like it did in Silco, when someone said something that got under his skin; when he let his words turn harsh and biting, looming over his constituents, a shadow of a monster with red-tipped wings.

"If I'd known you were here," Vi is saying, a low firmness in the words—and Jinx knows where they're going, before she even speaks them; feels her shoulders draw firm as stone. "If I could have—I would have done anything to find you; I would have got you out of here, as soon as I—"

A numbness washes through Jinx's veins.

"Got me out," she repeats.

She feels so far away from herself. Floating. 

She's seeing Little Man, with his hair still short and his arms still gangly: his hand shackled around her wrist, hard enough to crush her, pleading to a girl who didn't exist—Powder, come with me, please—we've found a place in the sewers, away from all of this, where you'll be safe—whatever he's done, I'll make sure he never gets to you, again—

"I don't need you to save me," Jinx bites out. Tension gnaws through her fingers: turns them white-knuckled on her knee. 

Mylo's wrong, Powder. You're stronger than you think.

You're strong, now—just like you were always meant to be. 

She wrenches her head from the words, the memories: Vi's fist colliding with her cheek, Silco's thumb sweeping against it. "I never needed you to save me, I—I needed—"

Because you're a jinx! Mylo was right!

Jinx is perfect.

"Someone else," Vi mutters. Jinx falters, ice in her lungs. Stares wide-eyed at her. Vi is frowning at the green glow beyond them, rasping her thumb against the wrapping over her knuckles. She takes in a hard, gritty breath, and eases it out. "I know," she continues. "I left you, and he—" The look in her eyes turns so strange: bitter, scathing. "He showed up." It's like the words are pulling out her teeth. Her thumb presses hard into her knuckles. "And maybe, that's—that's what you needed."

Jinx tries to swallow. Heat burns and burns in her throat. "You want me to hate him," she tests, prickling with spite. "You don't want me to be here." Flashes of color outside the edges of her vision: eyes and faces and howling words. "You don't like him—you don't like any of them—well, none of you all liked me, either—"

"That's not true—"

Ghosts are picking at her ears and clawing at her arms and too loud.

"—because I—I was just some—some loose screw, screw-up, always screwing things up—shut up!" She wrenches her head into her hands, squeezes it tight, tight between her nails, to keep her skull from splitting open. "Shut up, shut up!"

Vi's looking at her like she's broken, a wind-up toy with all the cogs gone: like something she doesn't know how to fix. Carefully, her bandaged hand lays over her knee. "That's not true, and you know it," she says gravely. The words crack. "We loved you, Powder. Vander, and Mylo, and Claggor—"

"Don't." Jinx seethes it out, feral: wrenches herself away from Vi's burning hand. "Stop." She breathes long, cavernous, heaving. "Stop, don't—I don't want to think about them—I don't want to think about them, I don't—"

Vi closes her eyes, clenches her jaw. "Okay."

"I don't," Jinx hisses again. There's too much color in her eyes, too much noise in her head. 

Vi's holding her. She doesn't remember when she started holding her.

[captainshurley]

Baby I'm not alright, but I'm okay (Part 1)

Cash Wheeler x f reader

Summary:

Y/n has fallen on hard times. Due to a difficult recent breakup, she is immersed in her work and cannot cope with her condition on her own. Maria, her best friend, decides to help her recover and invites her to her party. Maybe y/n will find something there to help her get on with her life?

Rushing around the room, the girl tried to gather her thoughts so that she wouldn't forget anything necessary. Normally, packing for somewhere didn't cause her this much trouble, but today for some reason things had gone wrong from the start. Y/n decided to calm her thoughts a bit and sat down on the edge of the bed to organize the thoughts in her head. She took a few deep breaths and mouthed the entire sequence of her actions, drawing a clear line. That always helped her in situations like this. 

She decided to wear her favorite Shotgun Rider band t-shirt, a black and red checked flannel shirt, dark blue jeans and white sneakers. Looking at her reflection in the large mirror, she decided that she didn't look flashy or attract much attention. Exactly as she should. Less attention, less problems. By the age of 24 y/n had already gone through some rough patches that left an indelible mark that sometimes disrupted the normal course of her life. 

Half an hour later, y/n was still packed and ready to go to the party her best friend Maria had invited her to. Nothing fancy, just a house party for friends. Maria said she needed someone she felt comfortable enough with to keep her company and share a glass of wine. This was a party to celebrate some success Maria's husband, David, was having at work. 

When the cab pulled up outside the Harwoods' spacious house, the parking lot next to the it was filled with cars. Y/n paid the cab driver and headed for the door from behind which soft music was already blaring. The girl stopped next to the door to take a couple of breaths to calm her once again frayed nerves. For a couple seconds, she even considered running away before it was too late, before anyone saw her. Even though she had texted Maria a couple hours ago saying she was definitely coming.  "Come on y/n. You're better than that. Better than a coward running away before the last step." she said to herself.

Just as she was about to press the bell, hoping it would be heard through the music, a man with a wide smile came out to meet her, literally bumping into her because he was distracted by a conversation with someone. "Oh, sorry...I didn't..." he started to say, but y/n interrupted him. "It's no big deal. It's fine. Did you want to come out?" she smiled back at him, unable to resist the inner impulse and stepped aside a bit, letting the man pass. For a couple seconds they both stood there, unable to take their eyes off each other. The man was the first to break contact, shaking his head and still taking a step outside.  "Thanks...see you around I guess?" he said and tiredly walked away without waiting for a response.  "See ya" she said automatically and walked into the house covering the door behind her.

Walking inside, she saw a small space with a bar counter that Maria's husband usually uses as his personal space and often posts pictures from here on his Instagram. It was a cute little wood-lined corner with a small tabletop that held different types of alcohol. Y/n decided to stop here for a while and have a few drinks. Finding herself a glass, she lowered herself onto a bar stool and poured herself some of the tequila that David had once praised. Looking around, she noticed a large cutout artwork on the wall with the faces of two men. One of them was obviously David himself, but the other y/n didn't know. For some reason the face seemed vaguely familiar to her.

After a few drinks she began to drown in her own thoughts. Alcohol always comes with heavy thoughts. For y/n it always did, at least until someone kept her company. But here she knew no one but her hosts, and they had yet to be found. She began searching with her eyes among the people for the hostess or host of the party to say hello to. Finding the shining bald head in the crowd was not difficult. There he was, the host. Her friend was right there beside him, gently hugging her husband around the waist. Y/n walked over to them and put her arm around her friend. Maria hugged her and kissed her on the neck and pulled away with a smile. She was happy to see y/n at the party. To be frank, she already thought y/n wouldn't come because of everything she had been going through for the past few months.

"Y/n, there you are. Glad you decided to show up. Now this party will be at least a little more interesting" giggling a little Maria said "Ouch" came from the man standing next to her "actually the party isn't boring as it is" he said to his wife but then shifted his gaze to y/n "glad you're here" Y/n grinned and hugged Harwood. "Thank you, David. I hope Maria isn't disappointed in your party because of my appearance"  "Don't be silly, little one. You're always welcome here. Feel yourself comfortable" Maria took her friend's hand and squeezed it lightly to help y/n feel calmer.  "Hey, Dan, we have something to discuss" the man addressed someone in the crowd and kissed his wife on the cheek and left.

When she was alone with y/n, Maria offered her a glass of wine and a little chat. Y/n nodded and they headed towards the drinks bar. "How are you? I hope you've stopped worrying about that guy. We both know that he's not worth regretting the end of that relationship for so long. Especially when you remember why and how they ended" Maria was worried about her friend and you could hear it in every word she said. It had been quite some time since the y/n's last relationship, but it didn't seem to be getting any easier for the girl. "Did someone appear on the horizon that you liked? You need to stop hoping Josh will change and at least apologize for putting you through all this crap!" "It's not that simple... I've given up hoping for an apology, but I can't just, you know how the people say, move on and just start dating someone else. I'm more focused on work right now. Yes, sometimes men at work flirt with me and call me out on dates, but it's all wrong. They either want to get it all at once or they're not ready for their girlfriend to be as problematic as I am." "Come on, Y/n! You're not problematic at all. You just need the right guy. Someone who can win your trust and heart and be your motivation to get over Josh's shit." "Yeah, someone who will see me, fall in love with me until the faint of heart, say 'I'm with you till the end of the line' and we'll live happily ever after." replied y/n with a sad chuckle, taking a sip of wine. "That's exactly what will happen! You'll see. You'll just have to find the right guy" said Maria, trying to give her friend some confidence at least for a while.

There was a tense and slightly sad silence.

"Oh, by the way, how is your brother? You haven't said anything about him in a while" the woman decided to change the subject.

"Scott? Scott's doing great! Traveling the world. Doing what he loves to do. In other words, living his best life. I miss him so much, to be honest. We call each other a lot, he helps me in that times, you know. But I miss having him around. He's literally all I have. My only family." y/n said that with sad in her voice.

"Yeah... You've had a hard time. And you both deserve to be happy. And... You know that no matter what happens, you can always turn to us, right? I'll help you with advice and a friendly shoulder, and David with alcohol and a strong hand if you need it."

Of course, Maria was partly joking. But y/n really could always count on them, but never took advantage of it to avoid taking her problems onto someone else.

Often the woman had to literally forcefully pull out of y/n what was wrong, so closed off she was literally from the world.

"I know. And I thank you for that. A lot."

Meanwhile, David had gone out with his coworker and, as he liked to say, "blood brother" to the backyard. It was starting to get dusk, so it was quiet and comfortable enough to talk privately outside.

"I see you're having a good time, Dan" Harwood opened beer bottles he'd brought with him and held one out to Daniel.

"Yeah. You know the last couple months have been tough, but at least now you and I have three tag-team championships and some time to relax before we have to defend them one by one" Dan smiled and sipped a little from the bottle "cheers!"

"Cheers!" David sipped a little from his bottle as well "Just I ask you to be a little more careful. I don't want my best friend to get into any trouble that I have to get him out of later."

"It'll be fine. A couple shots, some innocent flirting that might end up in something interesting and nothing obligatory for one night. Nothing criminal. By the way, there was this girl, we met in the doorway. She had a brown hair, and she was wearing, like, a plaid shirt and a Shotgun Rider t-shirt. Who's that, do you know?"

It took David a few seconds to go over in his head the people he'd seen at the party tonight.

"No, no, no. Don't even think about it, bro. That's my wife's best friend, and she's certainly not the kind of person who would benefit from casual hookups right now. No offense" Harwood hadn't stopped shaking his head the whole time.

"Sounds like a challenge" Wheeler decided to joke, but immediately realized from his friend's reaction that the decision was clearly a bad one. He held up his hands in his defense "Okay, I get it. I'll be careful and not allow myself anything extra. But maybe you can tell me her name, she looks pretty."

"Her name is y/n" He said with a sigh. "Don't make me regret it."

Next chapter

[star-fandoms]

TWISTED WONDERLAND OCS!!

I have more but these are my MAIN ones! Anyways Twisted Wonderland is such a big hyperfixation of mine, literally always on my mind!

Anyways, SEELE!! I did have a really old account dedicated to her from like 2-3 years ago, but that's since been deleted. If anyone recognizes her, hi! Its me the same person i prommy!

This is my most recent drawing of her and its also a redesign!! I didn't have problems with her old design but HHHHHH the new one looks SO much better, I love her so much more now! She doesn't really have a set age though i mainly picture her being 17 when she has long hair and then 19-23 with her short hair! That said I really ship her with almost anyone in TWST!! She's a bit eccentric but tries to hide it when she comes to Twisted Wonderland to try and fit in(it doesn't last very long since after Azul's overblot she learns the importance of loving herself and goes back to being a total weirdo LOL) anyways she tries to fit in since she used to get bullied back at Earth. Also I do imagine her hair to be longer in the first drawing and either design she wears glasses, it was just to show what she looks like with and without glasses! I also imagine her to be a lot more accessorized I just didn't feel like drawing it yet, LOL! Also when I use Seele, its typically just her, none of my other TWST ocs, however my other TWSToc's were all brought together and live in Ramshackle together!

Next is Xanthi!! Their an alien! I really dig ocs that aren't just humans since y'know, Yuu can really come from ANYWHERE!! So seeing other ocs where they step out of that human realm really inspired me, and ofc, I love aliens soooo it was perfect! I actually debated making Seele an alien in her redesign since Seele calls herself an alien all the time LOL Anyways it's Xanthi time, not Seele time! Xanthi is 17(you'll find that most of my Yuu's are 17) and they escaped from area 51 LMAOOOOO. They can glamour themself to look human but obviously, there are limitations! They can't change Their eye color or strange pupils, and their tongue and blood color can't change. They loves mischief and causing chaos, if they aren't the one causing chaos then it finds them. They have a huge fascination with humans and have observed them for a bit, though they still struggle with a LOT of human stuff. Although, they're REALLY good at anything technology related! Anyways, if you're a human, chances are Xanthi will just SIT there and stare at you! I ship them with the Heartslabyul crew! I gotta draw them with Riddle since I just KNOW they'd get on Riddle's nerves. And Ace and Deuce would probably be even more protective after finding out that Xanthi is a clueless alien, although Xanthi would also piss them off too LMAOOOO (Also I'd probably mute their colors a little but oh well LOL)

Next is Maggie!! Much like with Seele I don't have a set age for her(in order to ship her with Leona! She's shipped with the Savanaclaw cast!) So 17-19 is the range I have set for Maggie! Although, she also doesn't change as much as Seele does in that time. Maggie is very laid back and chill, she also very loyal to her friends and looks out for them, and she doesn't hide it, she doesn't feel a need to. If she loves and cares about someone, then she should show it, in order to let that person know that they ARE loved! Platonically at least, Maggie's a mess when it comes to romantic feelings. Anyways Maggie is pretty independent, she doesn't really like relying on others and she can hold herself fine on her own. She's stubborn and refuses to ask for help. She doesn't take her studies very seriously, especially in the beginning since she just figures they'll all get sent home soon, however, she ends up feeling bad when her grades impact the others and starts working hard(Honestly, I can see her making that deal with Azul LMAO) Anyways, she's really protective and loyal to her friends and worries about others easily. She prefers to wear baggy clothes and does NOT follow the school's uniform regulations LOLOL

Next is Quincy!! She's a sweet 17 year old! She loves and cares about her friends deeply and gets attached easily. That said, she's got a mischievous streak to her name! Don't get it twisted, she's still extremely kind, but she ADORES horror and enjoys playing harmless little pranks on her friends. She likes to give her friends a little scare here and there. She doesn't show this side until WAY later into the friendship either and it comes suddenly. Maggie in Particular is creeped out by and worries for Quincy, and Quincy LOVES it! She's aware that she gives off a innocent impression, she's been told it so many times and she uses that to her advantage for a bit, she eventually comes clean with her pranks, she always does. She's a big fan of baking, and eating in general, literally adores going to the Monstro Lounge when she can afford it. I ship her with the Octavinelle cast!! She also always holds her arms up like that(Funnily enough, it's a bit of a habit I have too, and I just realized it fits with her whole bunny scheme too!) She has a bit of a lisp with her buck teeth, that she's grown to accept over the years. I didn't really know what to do for her second drawing my baaaad LOL

Next Is Scarlett!! Scarlett is a sweet and energetic 17 year old as well! She gets along really well with Peony AND Quincy, all three sharing a love for horror! Much like with Seele, Scarlett typically wears glasses and USUALLY has some kind of wound on them LOL! They're really reckless AND clumsy so not a good combo for staying unscathed. I ship her with the Scarabia cast, poor Jamil...Sorry for doing this to you(Seele isn't much better LMAO) Scarlett loves ART!! She loves CREATING!!! It's the ONE thing she can stay focused on(Other then watching horror videos, and even then she STILL gets distracted) You look away from her from 10 seconds and she's missing because she got distracted by something and HAD to go see what it was. That said she REALLY struggles with school work but she tries super hard, especially now that she knows that its not just her grades at risk. Feels bad when she becomes aware she stresses others out and causes them trouble. Can't cook to save her life, she tries(esp in culinary crucible) But hey, her cooking is probably more edible then Lillia's at least, so it's not the worst!

Next is Lorelai!! Oh my sweet Lorelai, my precious baby!! T-T she's an insecure 17 year old who's also very kind. Her dream is to be a lifeless doll, she knows it's a bit morbid, but she thinks dolls are pretty and if she were a doll that'd mean she's pretty too! She's VERY insecure about herself, which causes her to do some pretty harmful things to her body. Lorelai loves sewing and designing outfits, and all of her outfit's were made by her! She's very talented but does not think so, her parents are NOT supportive of her hobbies and want her to get a "real job"(like they ain't wearing clothes, stfu fr fr) Oh! I also ship her with the Pomefiore cast, I was listening to music and thought "I Know You" By Faye Webster fit her relationship with Vil ToT! She loves horror and it definitely doesn't help with her morbid thoughts of what she wants to do to herself. She's also a huge fan a romance but doesn't think she's capable of giving OR receiving love! Rook is a fucking whiplash to her, completely goes against everything she's ever thought(Sorry I love Pomefiore sm)

Next is Renae!! Renae is 18 years old and as the trend has been going, I ship her with Idia. They def game together! Renae was a popular streamer back on Earth(not that she remembers since y'know, memory loss!) She has a bit of a nerdy appearance but they love alt fashion a lot and would wear it when streaming. Since coming to Twisted Wonderland, it's kind of stopped as they don't have enough money to buy alt clothes, they don't see a point with the uniforms, and she cant commission someone since lack of money again. Their glasses are just reading glasses, so they're not on her all the time. She also does NOT know how to tie a tie LOL She's pretty laid back and does not care about a lot of things. Oh Ramshackle is falling apart? That's fine. They haven't eaten in three days? that's okay, more food for the others and more money saved. Much like with Xanthi, she's also tech savvy, not as much as Xanthi though LOL!

Next is Shiro!! She's 17 LOL and I was SOOOOO creative with the name/sar She's inspired off of shiro lolita fashion so I kinda just made her name Shiro LOLOL Anyways! She's a very smart an hardworking individual who loves to learn all about different things, she knows numerous strange facts and could go on long rambles about anything really! She also gets along well with Quincy, Lorelai, and Scarlett(mainly Lorelai though as they share SIMILAR aesthetics and Shiro likes to try to include Lorelai and make Lorelai feel wanted) as Shiro is also a horror fan and knows a lot of interesting facts about death. She's good at keeping a calm and level headed persona, but she's actually such a mess, if you compliment her she will excuse herself and start freaking out. She does not handle stressful situations well, no matter how calm she may look. She's also a bit upset that she's seen as someone to rely on in these situations since now she feels she can't rely on anyone, although she knows its also to be expected with the persona she puts up. Anyways I ship her with the Diasomnia cast!

Next is Raine!! She's 17 and an enigma LMAOOO Her hair works with the magic of my pen fr fr! She's mysterious and prefers to stay that way, never opening up to anyone. She has a strong sense of justice and sticks to her morals, that said when she see's someone in need of help, Raine is likely the first person to rush in and help them! I ship her with Rollo, Neige, Chenya, and Najma(I personally have always seen Najma as 16 as her official age hasn't been revealed yet) Raine loves flower language and studying herbs. Honestly, probably huge on crystals and other witch stuff! She has a bit of a playful side to her, pulling pranks and carrying on with a bit that she's actually a witch, which she refuses to let up(she's not actually a witch but some of the other Ramshackle residents genuinely don't know what to believe) A lot of people believe shes mature because of the way she holds herself but she is NOT!! She is just a silly THING!!

And finally is Ines!! She's like the only adult adult twst oc I have, with her being 26 years old! That said she feels a little out of place being taken to twisted wonderland and having to go to school, but she also spends a lot of time reminiscing on her school days. She's like a mom for the others(excluding Seele), although she also talks like a grandmother LOL! She used to have a bit of a mischievous streak to her name when she was younger and it still shows to this day, with her piercing and her hair still being platinum blonde at the ends! I ship her with Divus, Sam, and Fellow!(Crowley doesn't get love, I hate him >:3) She doesn't really understand the girls, but she supports them and their weirdness! She looks at them and see's a bit of herself in some of them(Renae and Lorelai mostly) Anyways, she actually has fun at the school, she doesn't dread it cause it's something new like the other do, rather she feels refreshed by the new topics, it'd be boring if she had to do the same lessons all over again!

[encantowishes]

Hello! I've been away for a while, but I didn't forget about Encanto Big Bang! Edit: Find the rest of @hectic-hector's illustrations of the pivotal bucket scene here.

Bruno reluctantly lifted the bucket from his head, peering at the activity around him. "You sure about this?" he asked Félix.

His cuñado clapped him on the shoulder, oblivious to the little stagger that followed. "Look at them. Everybody's focused on their own jobs. Nobody's going to pay you any mind."

Bruno fidgeted with the bucket, unsure. 

Félix’s eyes fell on the turning bucket. "Okay, two things, amigo. One, you simply can't walk around safely with that thing on your head. Two, you'll draw less attention without it."

Bruno sighed. He couldn't argue with that. "I could take it with me, though. For … luck."

"Of course."

Bruno tossed some salt over his shoulder, slipped the bucket handle over his wrist, and grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow. Drawing a deep breath, he muttered "I can do this" a few times as he moved forward.

The wheelbarrow contained rubble and unsalvageable belongings that had been plucked from the wreckage of Casita. It needed to be moved from the back of the grounds to the front, where a donkey-drawn cart was waiting to carry it away. An easy enough task, even for a middle-aged man who'd spent the last decade laboring mainly to prevent his own discovery. Bruno felt it was time he pitched in, since everybody else was working so hard, and he'd spent the last couple days hiding behind the remains of a wall. (Though he had mixed the spackle.)

The problem lay in the fact that he had to run a gauntlet of other people to bring the wheelbarrow to its destination. People who had blamed their misfortunes on his prophecies. People who had jeered at him and called him "brujo," as though he'd never heard that pun before. People who had thrown guava churros at him, staining his favorite ruana, and wasting perfectly good churros.

Don’t draw attention to yourself. Just act normal. Or as normal as possible. That’s why it’s called “acting.”

“Omigosh it’s him!” 

“The guy from the mural?!”

“Isn’t he supposed to be seven feet tall? My abuela’s taller than him.”

“Yeah, he doesn’t look scary. Just tired.”

Bruno tried to focus on the wheelbarrow and ignore the chatter of little voices behind him, until they turned into a trio of little faces in front of him.

“You’re him, right?” asked a little girl with a long black braid and a broad smile.

“‘Him’ who?”

“THE MYSTERIOUS MISSING MADRIGAL!” shouted a little boy who was plainly over-caffeinated.

Bruno lowered the wheelbarrow and folded his arms. Only it took him two tries, because he’d forgotten about the bucket still hanging from his wrist. But once he’d managed it, he imagined he looked at least a little intimidating. “Who’s asking?”

“Us!” the kids chorused.

“Tío Bruno, there you are,” Mirabel said as she sidled up to him. “Good to see you out in the open! I’m supposed to let you know, we’re having lunch with the Guzmáns.”

“Oh, thanks.” Maybe Mirabel could take these kids off --

“Mm-hmm. Gotta run, Isa’s waiting for me.” She waved to the kids and hurried off.

Bruno looked back at the children, who had encroached even closer. And … were there more of them now? Yeah, a boy with wavy hair, and a girl in a straw hat.

Black-Braid Girl pointed at him. “You are the missing Madrigal!” She grinned as though this revelation was the greatest discovery of her life. 

“Aren’t you supposed to have green eyes?” asked Hat Girl.

“They are green,” Bruno said, a little too defensively. “Or hazel. Depends on the light.” This was … very weird. Ten years ago, kids this age would have hidden from him, not ganged up to interrogate him. Of course, ten years ago, this crop of kids hadn’t even been born yet.

“No, like spooky glowing green!” Coffee Boy insisted, lifting his hands to the sides of his face and wiggling his fingers with all the kindergarten menace he could muster.

“Do you really see people’s dreams?” piped up Wavy-Hair Boy.

“AND FEAST ON SCREAMS?” Coffee Boy wanted to know.

“No, and -- what? No!  Where have you been getting your information?”

“Camilo,” all the kids said together.

Yep, leave it to Camilo to turn Bruno into the local cryptid.

“Look kids, I got work to do. We’ve got a whole house to build.”

“Aww.” They all gave him very sad expressions. Yeah, this just kept getting weirder. They were disappointed he was trying to get away from them?

“I’m not gonna be able to get rid of you kids, am I?”

“Nope!” they chorused.

“Ay. Okay, how about this: If you” -- he pointed to Coffee Boy -- “go get me some coffee, and then everybody helps me with this wheelbarrow, I’ll tell you a story.”

At this, the kids jumped around like popcorn kernels in a hot pan.

Okay, weirder still, but … kind of sweet?

By the time the wheelbarrow was empty, the group had grown by two more boys, one wearing a poncho, and the other a vueltiao hat.

“All right, back we go for more debris.”

“But the story!”

“I can walk and tell a story at the same time. Can you walk and listen?”

Turned out they could. Bruno and his seven small followers passed Pepa, who stared before breaking out into laughter. “Mamá gallina!”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Where were we? Oh, right. So then Jorge says to Hernando: ‘Señor, I hope you weren’t planning on wearing that for dinner.’”

Together, they filled the wheelbarrow with another load.

“Aren’t you going to put anything in your bucket?” asked Two-Braid Girl. Cecilia. Her name was Cecilia. Black-Braid Girl was Alejandra, and Coffee Boy was Juancho. That was probably as many new names as Bruno was going to remember at the moment.

Bruno looked at the bucket, again hanging from his wrist. “Nah.”

“What’s it for, then?” Cof-- Juancho demanded.

“Personal fulfillment.” The sarcasm might be lost on the kids, but it amused Bruno.

“So you’re just going to leave it empty?” asked Hat Girl.

Bruno stared at her for a long moment. 

“The next morning, Hernando was awakened by a terrible thunderstorm,” he went on.

As they walked, Bruno got so into his story that he started gesturing, and the kids teamed up to push the wheelbarrow so they could continue walking. He didn’t notice the woman he nearly ran into as they rounded the scaffolding.

It was Mercedes Ozma.

“Bruno Madrigal. I thought you were dead.”

He leaned forward a little, just far enough to rap on one of the wheelbarrow’s wooden handles. “... Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot.”

“There’s something I need to say to you.”

Bruno took a deep breath. “Look, if it’s about your fish, I’m sorry  --”

“It is about the fish! My abuelo raised award-winning goldfish. World-renowned!”

“World-renowned?”

“They were so important to him, that when their village was attacked, he collected as many as he could before my family fled. Only one survived the journey. And when my abuelo passed, the keeping of that fish fell to me. Did you know goldfish can live about thirty years? Mine only made it to nine. And when it died, I felt like I had let my family down.”

“Oh,” was all Bruno could say, though Mercedes’s story seemed oddly relatable.

“Anyway, that’s why I was so upset about it. But it wasn’t right for me to take it out on you, and I’m sorry.” 

She held out her hand. Oh, right, he was supposed to shake it. He was still getting used to the whole “human contact” thing again. He accepted the hand, as briefly and as gingerly as seemed polite.

And then there was awkward silence.

“Um, well, glad we could put this behind us?” Bruno offered.

Mercedes nodded curtly. “Good to see you’re not dead.” She carried on hammering whatever it was she was putting together.

So now not only were children flocking to him, but villagers with decades-long grudges were apologizing? At least one, anyway. Maybe the bucket really was lucky.

“Where were we, kids?”

“The hot air balloons were full of pirates!” Alejandra supplied.

“And Jorge almost fell into the Nile River!” Juancho added.

They all continued to work in this manner as Bruno told his story until Julieta came around to collect her brother for lunch.

“Thank you for the story, Señor!” Cecilia called after him. “You’re a good storyteller!”

Julieta chuckled as they walked away. “Did you make some new friends?”

Bruno took a moment before answering. “I’ve spent my life living in a sentient house and seeing the future, but whatever just happened there was also pretty weird.”

“Was it? I seem to remember you telling our friends some pretty enthralling tales when we were kids.”

“Sure, but that was back when I had friends. Back before ‘little and quirky’ turned into ‘old and creepy.’”

Julieta took her brother’s arm as they continued to walk. “A lot of things have changed.”

He mulled this over. She was right. The valley was open to the outside world now. Casita was gone. All the family had been forced to stop hiding their problems, and to open their eyes to each other’s. Mamá was trying -- he could see she was really trying -- to be more open and less demanding. And his long absence, it seemed, had been enough time to change Bruno’s reputation from “menace to be at best tolerated” to “intriguingly odd old man kids willingly approach.” But how long would that last? Because --

“I haven’t changed.”

“You haven’t? Even after ten years in … in your circumstances?” Julieta must’ve been avoiding saying in the walls, just on the other side of my kitchen, where I’ve spent hour after hour thinking you were gone forever.  

Or something like that. Bruno hadn’t missed the horror in his sisters’ eyes when they discovered just where he’d been all this time.

He almost said: “After a certain point, one day is pretty much like another.” But something told him that wouldn’t help. So he changed the subject. “Wonder what’s for lunch?”

Clean up and construction continued. Some days were better than others. There were times he needed to wear his bucket and rely on a relative to be the intermediary between himself and a villager. Other times he was able to take the lead in marking out the next section of work.

Being out in the sunshine wasn’t so bad. Working with his hands was meditative. Although sometimes he didn’t meditate so much as start dwelling on things that bothered him. When that happened, he’d find a relative to work alongside and talk to. He was less anxious about the whole “getting reacquainted” thing when it was one on one rather than at big family meals, anyway.

“I heard a bunch of people talking about what might be outside the mountains,” Camilo said, as he and Bruno tiled the new kitchen wall. “And that led to the old folks talking about what they remembered from before the Encanto. Tío Agustín’s parents said in Bogotá there was a kind of show called a cinema. Basically a theater, but instead of a stage, there’s a … big blank space? and the actors are all very big? but they’re not really there? and … well, I didn’t really understand. But I’d like to see one, someday. See what it’s like.”

“Your pá used to make flip books for you, right?”

“Yeah.” Félix wasn’t a great illustrator -- his artistic gifts were more musical -- but he’d doodled dozens of pictures of little guys getting into various stages of predicaments. Many of these were curious accidents, such as a man tripping over a cat and trying to grab a table to catch himself, only to pull off the tablecloth and all the dishes on his way down. Camilo suspected that these doodles were inspired by Agustín. But the point was, if you ran your thumb across the pages so that they quickly flipped past, the little guy looked like he was actually moving.

“Cinema is like flip books. Except instead of drawings, they have a special camera that takes a whole bunch of partly see-through pictures, faster than you can blink. Then they go into a machine that runs all the pictures in front of a light. The pictures wind up on the wall, or the screen or whatever. It’s kinda like shadow puppets -- they look bigger than they really are.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Visions.” Obviously.

“You had a vision about how cinema works?”

“Look, sometimes I see things in visions that are just incidental to what I’m looking for, but then I get curious about them and follow up. Y’know, at some point -- maybe it’s already happened out there -- everybody’s gonna have a box in their house with a window in it, and they’ll use it to see the same kind of shows they have in the cinema. They’ll even be able to see things happening at that very moment somewhere far away.”

“How does that work?”

“That one was a little too complex for me.”

Later, those kids from the other day found Bruno while he was painting a ceiling, and wanted to know more about Hernando and Jorge. He was getting used to kids asking him for stories.

“Are they friends of yours?” he asked Antonio once, since the kids were close to his age.

The boy had hesitated. “Not really. I mean, they’re nice. They always say ‘hi’ to me. But I just …” He turned his attention to the speckled rat in his hands, lightly stroking his forefinger between her ears.

“It’s okay, I understand. Believe me, I do. I was thinking about introducing them to the rats. Think that would go over well?”

“I think so. Can I help?” Kids his age might intimidate him, but a chance to help animals make friends apparently superseded that worry.

“Couldn’t do it without you, kid.”

“Show them Pecosita,” Antonio suggested, holding up the rat. “She’s the calmest.”

The rodent reveal went about as well as could be hoped. Two of the kids excused themselves when they heard what was coming. A third lost his nerve shortly after Pecosita emerged. But nobody screamed or cried. The kids who stayed loved Pecosita. They thanked Bruno for showing her to them.

That night, Bruno curled up on a sofa at the Guzmáns’ house. He and Alma were spending their nights there, while Agustín and Félix’s families had taken the rest of the Madrigals into their homes. It was pretty quiet compared to Casita. The only sound of note was Mariano’s snores from down the hall. Dolores must really like that guy, Bruno mused, if she was prepared to potentially put up with that.

Bruno couldn’t sleep, though his body demanded rest after the day’s toil. He stared at his bucket, sitting on the floor in front of him. Alternately the Luck Bucket, or the Bucket of Personal Fulfillment (empty). And he thought about what Julieta had said, about how so many things had changed. And about all the evidence he’d seen to support that.

“But sooner or later, it’s all gonna fall apart,” he muttered to the bucket. “I’m gonna mess up somehow. I always do. I’ll say the wrong thing, and then I’ll go back to being Bad Luck Bruno the Brujo. The creepy seer.”

Except, no. Because he wasn’t a seer anymore. Couldn’t do it even if he wanted to. He hadn’t felt so much as a tickle of his Gift since Casita collapsed. Now the only thing that made his eyes itch was pollen.

He hadn’t told anyone that he was relieved, though surely no one would have been surprised. Some of his family members were very upset about losing their Gifts. Others seemed to have mixed feelings. Even Pepa missed her weather, at least a little. No rain, no rainbows, after all.

Bruno sat up, since he wasn’t falling asleep, and grabbed the bucket. “Without my Gift, would I have a chance to be something else?” he asked it. “And if I’m not a seer, then what am I?”

Of course, there had always been one thing he’d wanted to do. And given the reception his stories and his rat had gotten among the kids, maybe it was possible. 

His mind wandered to the sight of his little rat stage, destroyed in the collapse. Mirabel had warned him not to look, but he had looked. The various cutouts splintered. The stage itself in pieces. All that work, ruined.

“But I can rebuild!” he said, standing. “I will rebuild!” Balancing the bucket on the palm of one hand, he gestured with the other. “Bigger! Better! Brighter! Bolder! Not just for me, not just for the family. I’ll set it up in the plaza where everyone can see. We’ll call it … ‘The Triumphant Return of Madrigal’s Rat Theater!’ How does that sound?”

“Marvelous!”

“Thanks! I --” Wait. Buckets couldn’t talk.

Looking over his shoulder, Bruno saw Mariano smiling his perfect, pearly smile. “Oh, excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I only got up for some water.”

Bruno very much wanted to put the bucket over his head, but he refused to cause his niece any embarrassment by association. At least, no more than he could help. Slowly, he brought the bucket down to his belly and turned toward the taller man.

Mariano’s smile did not fade. “Dolores has told me about your rats, and the wonderful tricks they do. A rat theater sounds amazing! I’d love to see it for myself sometime.”

“Sure, of course. Premium seats. Just, ah, just don’t tell anybody you saw me talking to a bucket, okay?”

“Oh, was it not your prop? Like in Hamlet?”

“Yep. That’s exactly what it was. Like Hamlet, declaiming ‘to be or not to be.’ To a bucket.”

Mariano got his water and went back to his room. Bruno tried again to sleep, but his mind raced with possibilities. As soon as the new house was finished, he’d get to work on building a new rat theater. Maybe someone had a disused dollhouse he could remodel. His telenovela scripts had, sadly, been lost in the wreckage, but the basics of the storylines were still in his head. Besides, there were always new stories to explore.

He could get his sobrinos involved, too. Make it a family bonding experience. The older ones might not be interested, but the younger three for sure. Antonio would want to help train the rats. Mirabel would insist on making the costumes. Camilo … would probably try to stage a coup to wrest away creative control. Eh, there’d be something the kid could do. Special effects, maybe, or choreography.

Choreography? He was letting this idea run a little wild. The rats, though he tended to think of them as very special, were regular rats. There were limits to what they could learn from him. Maybe if Antonio still had his Gift, something like choreography would be possible, but -- ay, poor Antonio. One of the Madrigals who could honestly rejoice in his Gift, and he lost it after only one day.

Because Bruno’s sacrifice, and even Mirabel’s courage, had not been enough to save the magic. And maybe the family as a whole had a lesson to learn from that. But it was hardly fair to Antonio. Bruno saw how it hurt his sobrino, saw the boy watch sadly as birds flew by without stopping to chat, or stare distractedly into the forest. Bruno would take it all on again -- the burden, the pain, the societal rejection -- if it would reunite Antonio with his animal friends. But this was how it was always going to have played out. He’d seen that a decade ago. All he could do for Antonio now was share his affinity for rats.

Speaking of rats, a blunt-nosed little fellow called Chato emerged from the ruana hood, curious about why his human kept shifting around. Bruno cupped the rodent, and, stroking Chato’s spine with his thumb, finally settled down and began to drift off. If nothing else, he’d give Antonio lights and music and performing rats. Rats for all the kids. Rats for everyone. Buckets of rats.

He began jotting down ideas in a new notebook whenever he wasn’t helping with the new house. Including at mealtimes. He wouldn’t let anyone see what he was working on, not even Mirabel. He’d sworn Mariano to secrecy. He would keep it a surprise as long as he could. Finally, a secret he could keep from Dolores. Finally, a secret that was just for fun.

There were so many hands at work on the new house -- and plenty of those were skilled ones -- that it was not many more weeks before the new house was nearly complete. Bruno was not alone in planning a secret surprise -- all the family members save for one were in on another scheme.

Mirabel had worked so hard, organizing and supporting people, sorting out problems (including arguments) that cropped up -- and hefting her share of bricks, to be sure. Whether she saw it or not, she had all her abuela’s best qualities, and her mamá’s, too. One aspect of the work she had not been allowed to see was a little order that had been quietly placed with the metalsmith.

The moment came. Alma stood with Mirabel, evaluating the almost-complete new house. That was the signal. The rest of the family gathered around. Antonio presented Mirabel the shiny new doorknob, engraved with “M” for Madrigal -- and Mirabel. Then the boy very sweetly walked his cousin to the door, just as (Bruno had seen from his hiding place on the roof) she had done for him during his ceremony. The rest of the family gave her words of encouragement. She was close to tears, and so was Bruno.

Mirabel pushed the new doorknob into place, and a shimmering light streaked over the house. Suddenly it was no longer “the new house.” It was Casita, back to life. The miracle had remembered Mirabel at last.

The familiar moving tiles ushered everyone inside. There, Isabela found she could once again manifest plants of every kind, and Luisa could relocate even the largest of them with ease. Camilo showed off in his usual Camilo way, and Antonio joyously embraced his jaguar friend. Pepa danced under a scattering of hail. Julieta sighed in relief and headed for the kitchen.

Bruno felt that tickling, twitching, itching sensation behind his eyes again. He made a tiny sound of discomfort, and Dolores arrived at his side. “You okay, Tío?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I lived with it for forty-five years. Won’t take long to get used to it again.”

“The break was nice though, huh?”

He looked at her. “ You okay?”

She smiled in a way that wrinkled her nose. “Honestly, it was driving me a little bit nuts not knowing everything that was going on. Hm! Speaking of which, someone is talking about me right now.”

“Someone called Mariano?” Bruno teased.

She gave him another smile, a sly one, as she walked away.

Dolores was immediately replaced by Mirabel. “Tío, I -- well, I know you said --”

“Look at all this! Look how happy everyone is, look at Casita! This all happened because of you.”

“Oh …”

“I’m so proud of you, Mirabel.”

“As am I,” said Alma behind them.

Before Mirabel could respond, the tiles moved them again, grouping the whole family together for a photo, only to prank them at the last second by throwing everyone askew. That picture would become a favorite.

The party carried on. Even though Bruno had grown more or less accustomed to the villagers, he still wouldn’t call himself a mingler. He found a dimly-lit corner in which to watch people and share snacks with Chato and Pecosita. From time to time, a member of his family would notice he was there and come check on him, and he assured them he was fine. And he was fine. He was happy to see his hermanas and sobrinos enjoying their Gifts.

As for his own … Julieta was right. A lot of things had changed. Just because he could see the future again didn’t mean that it was the only thing he could be known for.

The storytime kids, as he’d come to think of them, found him. “Are you able to do the spooky glowing green eyes again?” Juancho wanted to know.

“If I have a vision, yeah. But I can’t really do one here.”

“If you have a what?”

“A vision. If I look into the future.”

“YOU CAN LOOK INTO THE FUTURE?!”

“... Yes? Did you think my Gift was just glowing green eyes?”

“Well, you said Camilo made up all that other stuff, so, yeah.”

Alejandra elbowed him. “Didn’t you listen to Mirabel? She said he could see the future. You can trust her.”

“Will you still tell us stories?” Cecilia asked. “Even though the house is finished?”

“Actually, I’ve been making plans abAAAUGH!””

A tall, sinister figure loomed in the dim light,  wide grin and glowing green eyes prominent. “What’s this I hear?” the figure asked in a deranged voice. “Juancho doesn’t believe in my power?”

“Hi Camilo!” Cecilia said brightly.

Sighing, the caricature of Bruno shifted into Camilo. “You could at least pretend to be scared.”

“You’re both storytellers. The two of you should tell stories together!” Alejandra suggested.

“Well,” Bruno said slowly. “If Camilo wants in on the secret project I’m working on, we just might.”

Camilo raised an eyebrow. “Secret project, you say?”

A few days later, Bruno brought Mirabel and Antonio in on the idea as well.

“Tiny … little … tiny little adorable rat costumes?” Mirabel sputtered, her eyes shining with glee. Abruptly, she ran out of Bruno’s room.

Bruno blinked in confusion as he watched her go. “... And I was hoping you, Antonio, could help communicate to the rats the more complicated things we want them to do. Like if, say, Camilo came up with a dance for them.”

Antonio nodded. “I can do that.” He hopped into his brother’s lap. “We’re a team!”

“So what I’m hearing,” Camilo said to Bruno, while giving Antonio a tickle, “is that you want me to direct.”

“Eventually, maybe,” Bruno conceded. “You have several qualities that could be helpful. So I think for now, stage manager might be the best job for you.”

“Stage manager? I could direct and act, but I don’t think I could be a stage manager and act.”

“It’s rat theater. The rats do the acting.”

“Oh.” That was a clearly disappointed Oh.

“Although …” Bruno pondered. “What if we picked a classic tale. All the roles played by rats -- except! For one character, which will be played by a human. The audience will love it. The juxtaposition of man and beast.”

Camilo grinned. “Will I get to sing?”

“What? Oh, I don’t know if it’ll be you in the role. We’ll see how you do in the audition.”

Camilo clutched at his heart. “Oh, Tío! You wound me! How could you do this to your own flesh and blood?”

Antonio giggled.

“You’re definitely not getting the role like that. That was way over the top, even for comedy. C’mon, I haven't even chosen the story yet, let alone the character. You might not be right for the part.”

“Right for the part? I can look. Like literally. Anybody. ” He shifted into his abuela.

“But can you act like anybody?”

“I’ll have you know my very first role was Christ himself!” He shifted again, into a serene and holy figure. How’d he manage that nimbus?

“That was a nativity play. You didn’t have this ‘pass out the loaves and fishes’ look. You were still in your mamá’s belly, while she played the role of Maria.”

“It still counts!”

“You were part of a costume!”

Camilo fixed Bruno with what was apparently his best steely gaze. “I’ll get that role. Just you watch me, old man.”

“Hey, that was pretty good. You might have a chance.”

He brightened. “Really?”

“Don’t call me, kid. I’ll call you.”

Mirabel came back in, carrying a notebook and a small basket. She halted mid-step when she saw what was before her. “Why is Camilo Jesus?”

From Camilo’s lap, Antonio shrugged, toying with the bucket. “I don’t really know what’s going on.”

Mirabel sat down among them as Camilo reverted to himself. “I’m ready to take notes and measurements for costumes. Hmm, any ideas on how to make a rat-sized dress form?” Everyone looked blank. “Eh, never mind, I’ll figure something out.”

Patient Pecosita was recommended to serve as model. While Mirabel unfurled her tape measure, Bruno told the kids more of his thoughts. A remodeled dollhouse might suffice; otherwise, he had other ideas for how sets might be constructed.

“Ay, more building,” Camilo grumbled.

“Before I start making costumes,” Mirabel said, “I’m going to need to know … well, what costumes to make. What play are we doing?”

“That’s … a good question.”

“We should ask the rats what kind of play they want to do,” Antonio suggested.

“... I’m certainly open to hearing their opinions.” Rats had artistic preferences?

“Pecosita says Torbellino is a great acrobat, and Tesoro would make a wonderful star performer.”

Bruno nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Torpe wants to do his own stunts.”

“Absolutely not. That would be like asking Agustín to make friends with bees.”

Antonio’s eyes grew wide. “That’s a great idea! I’ll go talk to them.” He hurried from the room.

As the door closed, Mirabel and Camilo looked at each other and snickered. After a moment, Bruno cracked a smile, too. As eager as he was to make this vision -- er, idea -- a reality, the truth was there was no rush. Nothing to worry about.

Not yet, anyway.

That evening, Bruno was cornered by his three eldest sobrinas. “You weren’t going to leave us out, were you?” Isabela asked, her arms folded.

“Leave you out? Of what, my will? I don’t really have anything.”

“I heard everything, Tío,” Dolores said. “Your big plans?”

Oh. Mariano had been sworn to secrecy. Dolores had not.

“Well, I … well, I just didn’t think you guys would be interested.”

Luisa looked hurt.

“I mean, because you’re adults! And this is rat theater! Silly Tío Bruno’s silly little rat theater.”

“We know it’s silly,” Luisa said. Her eyes widened. “That is! I don’t think any of us expected it to be serious. But that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t still be a fun thing to do. As a family.”

“Besides,” Dolores said, “Isabela’s got an idea for an addition to the show that we don’t think you’re going to be able to pass up. Why don’t you show him?”

Isabela unfolded her arms and, with a deeply smug look, opened her hands.

“Those are potatoes,” Bruno pointed out.

Isabela began humming. It was an old song, a lullaby. Were the potatoes … were the potatoes moving? At first it was hard to tell, but yes. They rocked back and forth, eventually standing on end. Bruno saw now that what looked like irregularities were vestigial limbs. Each had an indentation that indicated a mouth. And yes -- the potatoes had eyes.

The two potatoes, too, began to sing, in a wordless babble, harmonizing with Isabela. Tottering on their tiny legs. Waving their little arms. Bruno stared at them, mouth agape.

Isabela reached the end of the song, and the potatoes turned and waved to each other.

“Now, I realize they might not look like much. But I’m working on some costumes for them. Something simple, since I know Mirabel will be making rat costumes for you. Hats and ponchos, I thought.”

“Might not … did you just … did you just say they might not look like much?”

“There’s a purple one, too, but,” Isabela shook her head, “it can’t carry a tune.”

“So?” Dolores prompted. “Are they in?”

“Are we in?” Luisa added.

The potatoes, they agreed, would perform the opening act. Bruno wasn’t sure anything he could come up with had any business following singing potatoes, but their performance was too brief to go second. Isabela busied herself training her potatoes and fashioning their clothes. Luisa joined the writing team. Dolores didn’t write much, but she gave excellent feedback, and proved so good at keeping up with everything that Camilo happily gave her his stage manager duties.

Now there was no keeping the project a secret, and soon Félix approached Bruno with an idea for a comedy piece that pitted himself on trombone against Agustín on piano. “You could put us right after intermission,” he suggested. “We’ll get people back in their seats.”

“I suppose that would work, assuming that the play turns out to be a comedy.”

Félix looked across the room at his older son, who loomed over half a dozen rats, doing his very best hammy villain. The rats ignored him in favor of the younger son, who was guiding one rat through performing a pratfall. Nearby, the sentient potatoes had requisitioned Bruno’s bucket for a bath. He clapped his cuñado on the shoulder. “Bro, I sure hope it is.”

Which brought Bruno back to the script. Which wasn’t quite a script just yet, more a collection of vague ideas. Luisa had petitioned for sword fights and unicorns. Camilo insisted there should be a werewolf somewhere. (“Why a werewolf?” Bruno had asked. “Because some kid heard I was a shapeshifter and thought that meant I was a werewolf. I thought it was funny.”) As for Bruno, he’d secretly hoped there might be room for hot air balloon pirates and adventure on the Nile. And as Dolores swept by, she requested some telenovela-style scandalous romance.

“The warrior princess rides in on her unicorn and rescues the mummy from the werewolf?” Bruno asked, trying to get it straight.

“No, she rescues the werewolf from the pirates,” Luisa explained. “And they have a sword fight.”

“Then the princess and the werewolf fall in love, of course,” Camilo added.

“And it’s a scandal because it’s forbidden to love a werewolf?” Dolores asked.

“I think the twist should be that when the werewolf returns to human form, it turns out she’s a woman,” Isabela offered.

“Oh, even better.”

“Why would it be wrong to love a werewolf?” Antonio asked. “As long as she’s not mean. I bet she’d be nice and soft to hug.”

“She might even play fetch,” Mirabel said. “No? What, is that too silly?”

“Where did the mummy come in, then?” Bruno murmured, scanning the pages. “And did Hernando and Jorge just disappear after scene six?” He was sure there was a scene in Act 2 where Hernando was mistaken for a famous wizard, while Jorge disguised himself as a cactus.

After a few days, word began to spread that the Madrigals were planning a big show. Bruno accepted that the secret was out. He did insist, however, that the potatoes remain a secret. Isabela agreed.

“You may have a little problem, hermanito,” Pepa said, stepping gingerly around all the props and pieces spread around Bruno’s room.

“What?” Bruno looked up from the background he was working on, a smudge of paint on his cheek.

“I’ve been talking to people, and I’m pretty sure literally everybody in the village plans on attending your show.”

“But that’s good, isn’t it?” Mirabel asked, sewing a tiny button onto a tiny coat.

“Not if they all want to see what’s going on,” Bruno said, realizing. “Most of our performers are rats! Or potatoes!”

Camilo smiled. “Not to worry, Tío! I’ve got the solution to all your problems. If you’ll follow me.”

Bruno, puzzled, kept his peace as Camilo led him around the upper walkway. “It does mean a change of venue, but I’m just the kind of guy who would donate his own room to the cause.”

When Camilo was five, his magic room had come into being as a theater, and from what Bruno could see, this was still the case after the rebuilding. This wasn’t going to help the problem at hand.

But wait, there was something new, something like a large closet behind the last row of seats. Camilo opened the door, and with a bow, gestured Bruno inside. A light came on. There was a tall tripod in the middle of the room, and mounted atop it, what must be a kind of camera. There were other strange machines in the room as well.

“So these devices are how your future boxes with windows get their instant pictures.” Camilo explained as he started fiddling with switches.

“But we don’t have electricity in the Encanto.”

Camilo shrugged. “Magic house.” He pressed a button on the camera. “Look.”

The control room had a large window that faced the stage. Looking through it, Bruno saw that there was now a large screen hanging in the back, displaying an enlarged image of the proscenium curtains.

“Camilo, I think you’ve saved the day.”

“Well, you know what they say. The show must go on.”

The night of the show arrived. Casita was full of images of butterflies, and Bruno’s stomach was full of metaphorical ones. Clinging to his bucket, he kept peeking out from the wings. In the front row, he spotted the seven kids who had kept asking him for stories, and, as promised, Mariano. Every other seat was full as well. Julieta and Pepa stood at the heads of the aisles, acting as ushers. In the control room, of all people, was Mamá, who had reminded them that she knew her way around an old-fashioned camera. All she needed was someone to show her how to use these new machines. To her credit, she seemed to take to it well.

Everyone else was backstage. Antonio gave the rats a pep talk as Mirabel got them dressed. Félix and Agustín, staying close to their instruments, went over their routine one more time. Likewise, Luisa and Camilo ran through their lines -- as Luisa would be taking on the role of the warrior princess, while Camilo portrayed the pirate captain. (The rats’ attempts at swordplay had been unsuccessful.)

Isabela dressed her potatoes -- in very rustic garments, as she’d indicated -- and complimented Mirabel on her handiwork. “I don’t know how you do it. Your costumes turned out great!”

“Oh … thanks, Isa.” Mirabel might have blushed a little. “The truth is, I made a prototype for each one first.”

Dolores appeared next to Bruno. “I’m not sure a heart rate that fast is healthy in a man your age.”

“What? My age?” Bruno sputtered. “Betrayal!”

She giggled. “But I got you thinking about something else, didn’t I?” She moved on to Félix. “Abuela says she’s ready when you are.”

Félix had graciously agreed to act as the host of the show. His voice could easily cut through the pre-show chatter, and his cheer was infectious. He welcomed the audience to “the Triumphant Return of Madrigal’s Marvelous Rat Theater,” thanked them for coming, and thanked them for all they had done to help the Madrigals after Casita collapsed. He invited them to give themselves a round of applause. Smart.

“And now, without further ado, our first performance of the night: our angel, Isabela!”

Isabela, in her boldest, most colorful dress yet, squared her shoulders and pushed forward a wheeled table covered in bold, colorful tropical plants. The potatoes sat, momentarily inert, in the center. She disappeared to the other side of the curtain.

Bruno held his breath and crossed his fingers as Isabela began to hum. The gasps from throughout the audience told him that at least the vegetables were showing up on the screen. He listened to their high, eerie voices performing even more complicated harmonies than those he’d first heard from them. Isabela introduced each of the potatoes by name and talked a little about how they’d come about by happy accident. This was followed by two more songs before she left the stage, followed by cheers and whistles and deafening applause.

Isabela let out an excited little scream as she returned to the backstage area. “That was amazing!”

“And now for our main event,” Félix announced, “a new play: ‘The Moon Over the Nile.’”

“Break a leg!” Camilo said, as everyone took their positions. Bruno made sure to knock on wood in response.

As the curtains opened, revealing the set, only Luisa remained on stage, saluting with her sword. The play began as the warrior princess encountered the legendary duo, heroic Hernando and his faithful sidekick, Jorge, played by rats (but both voiced by Bruno).

Bruno had been a little worried that Camilo would be upset over not getting the lead role. But the boy had insisted that playing the villain was more fun, plus he loved the song that went with it. Not to mention, he got to ride around in the hot air balloon prop.

As the scenes went on, Bruno found himself wishing, just a little bit, that he’d given himself a role on stage. The kids were clearly having the time of their lives. But … while people treated him differently now than they had before his disappearance, he wasn’t sure the Encanto was ready to embrace him as an actor. If they enjoyed his show, whether or not they realized he’d been the driving force behind it, that should be enough, right?

Now came the intermission. Bruno stopped by the control room to check in with his mother. “It’s going well,” she told him. “This camera, it focuses itself. All I have to do is point it in the right direction.” She noticed what her son had in his hand. “What is that bucket for?”

“Oh, this? Well, it’s um … it’s just … You know what, I don’t actually need it.”

Alma shrugged. “You could set it there by the door, then. Out of the way.”

Bruno did so, and then returned backstage to try to relax for a few minutes.

Time was nearing for the next performance. Félix held his trombone at the ready, but where was Agustín?

Dolores had the answer, of course. She came running up with it. “Tío Agustín went into the control room and tripped over a bucket. He broke his --”

Leg?

“-- nose. Tía Julieta got him healed, but they needed to clean him up a bit.”

“Okay, then we’re just a little delayed. Not the worst thing that could happen.”

“When he tripped, he knocked over the camera. It’s completely destroyed.”

“The camera? The camera that lets us project our tiny little actors onto the screen so people can actually see them? The big dance number is in this half!” He bent over, pressing his hand to the wall, and hyperventilated.

“Tío?” It was Mirabel. “I think there might still be a way we can save this.”

“What?”

“I’ll be right back!”

Agustín appeared, cringing with regret, and his act with Félix began. If the piano playing was a little off, at least they were able to pretend it was part of the comedy of the piece.

Mirabel returned, her arms laden with clothing. “These are the prototypes I made of the rat costumes,” she explained.

“These are … actual, human-sized costumes.”

“Yeah. Well, I never figured out how to visualize a costume for a rat before seeing what it would look like as a human costume.”

Bruno laughed in disbelief. “And you didn’t just draw them?”

“This way I had a three-dimensional view. Anyway, I was already making Camilo and Luisa’s costumes, so …”

Bruno looked around. All his sobrinos were staring at him. “Okay, Mirabel, you’re wizard Hernando. Isabela, you’re cactus Jorge.” He handed them the outfits.

The sisters looked at each other and laughed.

“Dolores … the mummy is a non-speaking role, so you don’t have to worry about projecting your voice.”

“Perfect. Ooh, nice headdress.”

“Can I be a pirate with Camilo?” Antonio asked.

“Aww, hermanito …” his brother began.

“I want to ride in the hot air balloon!”

Camilo deflated.

“You’ll have to make do with your own trousers, pequeño, but here’s a pirate hat and jacket.”

“What about the werewolf?” Luisa asked. “I still need a werewolf to rescue!”

Ah. Yes, Bruno had thought he’d felt something furry at the bottom of the pile of costumes.

“Camilo? You wanna prove that kid right?”

“Nah, it’s all yours, Tío!”

“Isabela? It’s your song.”

“How could I pass up cactus Jorge?”

“But the werewolf …” He looked at Luisa.

“Don’t worry, Tío, I can lift you just as easily as the rat.”

“No, I know that. I was just thinking about the duet.” The song had been written for Isabela’s voice. Bruno wasn’t sure he could pull it off. But as for the mask … that, he would have to pull off.

But there was no time for doubt. Félix and Agustín were near the end of their act. It did seem to be going well, with the audience laughing in all the right places. Bruno pulled on the werewolf costume. “Here goes nothing.”

“My friends,” Félix announced, “in Act 2, the roles previously played by rats will be taken over by their understudies. We return to ‘The Moon Over the Nile.”

Swords clashed. Chashes ensued. Mysteries unraveled. The big dance number went off without a hitch, primarily thanks to Dolores. Camilo milked his villainous reprise for all it was worth. Mirabel’s Hernando was a surprisingly good imitation of Bruno’s. Isabela’s Jorge sprouted extra cacti, which earned her laughs, though Antonio’s ad libs got more. Luisa really did haul Bruno around with surprising ease.

Then came the duet, “When the Moon Disappears in the West,” in which the werewolf’s human face was revealed in the second verse. There were gasps from the audience. Were they negative gasps, or just surprised ones? But at the end of the song, Bruno and Luisa received a standing ovation.

Bruno stared toward the audience, straining, unsuccessfully, to see against the stage lights. Was that applause really for him? Well, it was for Luisa, mostly, surely. But nobody was booing or throwing things at him. Not a single wayward guava churro in sight.

The rest of the play was a blur, until the curtain call. Bruno was the last to be called, and Félix sure was taking his time with it, laying on superlatives like “the man who made it all possible,” “the creative genius” and “one of my favorite cuñados.”

As he stepped through the curtain, Bruno wished he had his bucket to fidget with. It had tripped Agustín, true, but it had also protected Bruno when he’d had to plunge headfirst through the wall of the collapsing Casita. The bucket was a two-edged sword.

Isabela draped a garland of flowers over Bruno’s shoulders. He took his bow. The applause did not stop. This was … this was for him. Actually for him. The whole village was here, and they could see Bruno as something else besides a bad luck prophet.

And so could he.

[skiplo-wave]

I don't know if there is anything that I can do. I am so frustrated. I hate bringing this to you but I don't have anyone else.

Skip, my cousin died a few years ago. Her death was contributed to weight loss surgery and alcohol. My friend - I'm gonna call her Ashley - got weight loss surgery last year. I begged her, like I mean I begged her in tears not too. She was even that big! The doctors knew it which is why her insurance didn't approve her. She claimed she tried everything to loose weight. So she had someone help her pay for her surgery. Fast forward to a year later, everything that she is experiencing right now, it's like watching my cousin all over again.

She can't keep food down.

She can't stop losing weight.

She's having heart and blood pressure issues.

The doctors have said, "Well I think you have a certain food intolerance" which I knew was bullshit from the beginning. That's what they always say. She tried cutting certain things out of her diet. It still didn't work. And she's DRINKING ALCOHOL on top of it. They do no recommend you drink at all after having weight loss surgery. Right now, she looks like a walking skeleton. She doesn't look like herself. She doesn't look like a 20+ year old woman. She looks like she aged 30 maybe 40 years. I tried telling her. People have tried telling her. DOCTORS have tried telling her. I am going to end up losing my best friend :'( My cousin went through all of this to the point that she ended up busting her stomach from throwing up so much and the alcohol was extending her new stomach. She almost did then BUT she continued to drink. The doctor told her that these weight loss surgeries shortens your life. He gave her 10 years. It's bullshit when they say "It's rare for complications to occur with weight loss surgery."

Again BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT AND MORE BULLSHIT!

I lost my cousin to weight loss surgery.

My family lost a close family-friend to weight loss surgery.

My older elementary school died after having weight loss surgery.

My sisters mother-in-law died after weight loss surgery.

They all died within 10 years after receiving it just like the doctor warned. And after you have that surgery, you have to watch extending the new stomach which means you can't eat enough to get the right nutrition your body needs and you can't ever get enough water to stay properly hydrated. So when you are adding alcohol on top of it, your organs are gonna fuck up.

I feel like EVERYONE around my friend failed her. Even though I tried talking her out of it, I feel like I still failed. Society plays a factor too. This world has failed people into thinking that there is only ONE NORMAL BODY TYPE. This girl did not need the weight loss surgery and the doctors knew it. It's like that woman from YouTube, Venus, the living doll girl who lives in Japan. She was so skinny and she went out of the country to get that weight loss surgery. She almost died too and it's no telling where she'll be 5 years from now.

Sorry reposoding to this late and very sorry of your loss!

Your friend really needs counicling. I'm not sure if that'll help because first step of getting help is admitting it.

At same time, you done all you can do. If you need draw line then you do that. Painful as that may be