#WHY DOES IT MATTER WHAT GROCERY STORE I WENT TO. STOP.
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𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬
𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ⇩⇩⇩
“𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐈𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐝𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 😋 𝐩𝐥𝐬"
𝐁𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧
✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿
𝐅𝐭: 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞
✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿
Izuku calls you a lot. He calls you a lot when he’s in the country, he calls you while he does your laundry or while hes on patrol. He’s had you on the phone while arresting some low level thief after they’d robbed a convenience store, he got in trouble for that one. But he called a lot, so it was no surprise that he called just as much if not more while out of the country, if not more.
So receiving calls from him was normal, receiving calls from him at one am on a wednesday while out of the country though, less normal. So while you were mostly just confused and half asleep, a part of you was worried as you pressed answer.
“Izuku? You okay, it’s so late?” You asked groggily. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you leaned over to flick on your lamp, phone still pressed to your ear. “What’s goin on?”
“I’m okay honey, I’m sorry I didn't mean to worry you. Were you asleep?” Izuku knew full well that you were asleep. He was in India right now, a country three-ish hours behind japan. He'd done the math, he knew damn well it was one am and therefore passed you designated bedtime. But he’d been painfully hard for the last thirty minutes and his hand hadn’t gotten him anywhere, he needed you. Or at least your voice.
“No it’s okay, what's up?” You continued to question him, you really didn’t mind that’d he'd called it was just odd for him to do so this late.
“I- uh- I just missed your voice” Not a full lie. “Was just hoping to talk, hear about your day?” It was a lame excuse for a man calling at one am but he wasn’t willing to admit why he really called yet.
“Oh okay, sure.” You were a tad suspicious, but Izuku called, it was what he did. “Um probably wasn’t as exciting as yours but uh let's see. Went shopping, for groceries not myself. You’d be surprised how much cheaper it is when I’m not feeding a human vacuum.” You began rambling on about your day. Going through what you did, how you couldn't find certain items, how you couldn’t reach certain shelves without him
Usually the sentiments would be nice, he’d laugh at your struggles or coo at how you needed him. Right now he was wrapping his hand around his base while imagining your voice saying other things. The way you sounded the last time he’d been inside you.
‘Right there Izuku’ “You feel so good” “Harder Zu” “Faster” “Fuck Zu” “Izuku, Izuku”
And paired with your voice in the background, even if you were currently talking about how you didn't know what color to paint your nails at the salon today, was all the more helpful. Ia Clearly.
“Nngh, fuck” A moan managed to escape his lips as his pace had gotten faster.
“Izuku?” You stopped mid sentence, having heard his slip up.A noise you were all too familiar with echoing through the speaker of your phone. “Are you..?”
“Yes, yeah. I’m sorry honey, I’m so sorry i just fuck-” Izuku was burning with embarrassment but honest none of that mattered right now. “Just missed you so much and I couldn’t help myself. Tried to do it alone but I just couldn’t” He explained pathetically. Letting go of his throbbing cock and throwing his head back into his pillow with a huff.
“Oh Zu..” You sighed slightly amused, “why didn't you say anything, I woulda helped you out.”
“I-I don’t know just please?” Izuku pleaded without remorse, he was aching for you and if you were offering he certainly wasn’t one to deny.You grinned lazily to yourself, despite his very clear distress it was flattering to know your boyfriend couldn’t come without you.
“I got you , I got you.” You spoke softly into the the speaker, “Tell me what you were thinkin about before you called.”
“The way you sounded.” He said simply, hand coming back to his dick, “ From before i left, how you were u-underneathe me.”
“Oh i remember,” it was an ongoing tradition to go at it like dogs in heat before he went on long missions. He’d had you in every position you could think of that night, on your back was where he finished though. He liked being able to watch your face. “Mmm that was so good. The way you had my leg on your shoulder, swear I could feel you in my stomach. That’s what you’re thinkin about, hmm?”
“Mm yeah” He moaned softly into the phone, “wasn’t enough though I couldn't”. You hummed in faux contemplation into the speaker
“Well that just won't do, will it baby?” His sounds of affirmation rang through loud and clear, “That's right. So just listen to me then. I know you already started so just slow down for me.” Izuku groaned softly but did as told, sure to voice his complaint.
“Please don’t tease, honey.” Voice tight with arousal as his fist moved slowly up and down his length.
“I’m not, promise. You remember how I do it, don't you. I always start slow, do it how I would.”
At that he sighs, imagining it’s your hand instead of his. Stroking at the tempo you would, thumb swiping over his tip gently the way your smaller one would. In a way that had him shuddering with a moan of your name.
“There we go, feels good when you imagine it’s me hm?”
“Yes, feels-feels so fucking good, Sweetheart.” Izuku’s voice took on a rasp it didn’t usually hold.
“I know, cause it’s what I do when I miss you.” His ears perked at that slight, you imagined him? Izuku moaned at the thought, at the metal image of you moaning his name as you touched yourself.
“You do?”
“Every single time, your hands are so much bigger than mine though, don’t feel as full.” He let out a loud groan and call of your name.
“Shitt baby, i need more.” Izuku begged lightly, aching to come.
“Speed up for me then, Zu. You know how I do it. Massage your balls with your other hand, the way we both know you like.” He nodded dumbly like you could see him. Other hand reaching down to cup his manhood, fondling them as he rubbed is length at a rapid pace. Doing both the way you would the days he'd come home pent up but too tired to do anything. Groaning and moaning your name as he did so. Abs tightening as he could feel his orgasm beginning to approach. “You’re doing so good for me Izuku, being such a good boy.”
“Oh fuck” his eyes screwed shut as the grip he had on his member tightened, “ ‘M gonna come for you, Sweetheart. Please, let me- fuck!”
“Go ahead, baby. Make a mess for me, you deserve it. Did so good now come for me Zu.” And he did. Izuku balls clenched as he grit his teeth in an attempt to muffle the long moan he let out as he came. Cock twitching in his hands as he pumped it raw, finishing all over his stomach and chest. Riding his high out until it hurt to keep going. Letting his already softening dick lay against his pelvis.
“Oh thank you, honey. Thank you, thank you.” He mumbled dazed and out of breathe.
“You're welcome, Izuku.” you smiled drowsy. Placing the phone on speaker and on your nightstand to charge. “Now go to bed. I’ll stay on the phone. “
“Okay,” He murmured. Grabbing a tissue to wipe himself clean half hazrdly before tucking himself back into his briefs and rolling ono his stomach. Placinghis phone on the pillow beside him. “Night Sweetheart. Love you”
“Night, Izuku. I love you too.”
✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 ❤︎︎
𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐨𝐰 ❣︎
#mha#bnha#my hero#my hero academia#mha smut#bnha smut#my hero smut#my hero academia smut#mha midoriya#mha izuku#mha izuku midoriya#bnha midoriya#bnha izuku#bnha izuku midoriya#izuku x reader#izuku x y/n#izuku x you#izuku midoriya#izuku smut#midoriya x reader#midoriya smut#midoriya x you#midoriya x y/n#izuku midoria x reader#izuku midoryia x you#izuku midoryia smut#smut#deku thirst#deku smut#deku x reader
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On his nerves
Love and Deepspace - Sylus & Zayne
A/N: I really hope you like this, Mia ( @ticklygiggles ) :blushy:. I wanted to make something to make it up for missing your bday and for thanking you for all the time we spent together this past months, but it was really hard figuring something "new" out
So... maybe you favs fighting might do the trick? Heheh. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!
Summary: You leave Sylus and Zayne unattended to go buy some groceries... surely they would get along, right?
Word count: 1368 words
[Also on Ao3]
The door had barely closed and the smile on both men’s faces had already faded without a single trace left. There was no need to put up the act if you weren’t around, anyway.
Sylus sighed lazily, laying back into your couch and kicking his feet up. With one ankle crossed over the other and his legs resting on top of the armrest, Sylus closed his eyes behind his shade glasses - there was nothing else worth of his attention left in your place, anyway, so he might as well use this time to get some rest.
“Tsk, unbelievable,” Zayne muttered under his breath, but loud enough to let Sylus hear it from the small distance between them.
It wasn’t like he was happy about the company you left him with, but Sylus thought this one would have the decency to keep his mouth from running. “Anything wrong, doctor?”
How you managed to get them to meet each other was still a mystery - to you and to them as well. From growing up next to Zayne and Caleb, to working with Xavier and Rafayel and meeting Sylus during a mission… Some could say it was fate, but would fate really let you in such a tangled mess?
While they seemed to live each on their own world, you couldn’t help but grow close to them as time went by - especially to Sylus and Zayne, in this matter. Part of you wish they, too, would get along with each other. It would be much easier if they did, honestly. But, at the same time, another part of you couldn’t help but feel a little… happy to see how they would bicker and have little fights over you.
Now, since one shouldn’t really encourage violence or fights - and since neither Zayne nor Sylus had officially made their move - why not try to get along, you thought? And, then, against all the odds, here they were.
Akso Hospital’s most renowned doctor and Onychidus’ boss, both in your living room, waiting for you to come back from a trip to the nearby store to buy some snacks.
“I’m just contemplating,” Zayne snapped, trying to keep himself as the bigger person and not let his feelings get the best of him. “Trying to figure something out.”
“Oh? My mistake, then,” Sylus hummed with a chuckle, folding an arm behind his head while using his other hand to gesticulate, “I didn’t take you for the kind that speaks by yourself and thought it was related to me.”
Zayne felt like a vein in his temple would burst at any moment now. “Surprisingly, you’re not half-wrong this time,” he retorted, the passive-aggressiveness in his tone growing worse by the second, “it does concern you, to some degree.”
Sylus sighed out loud, highlighting his lack of interest for whatever was about to come his way. This was going to be a long afternoon, he thought. “Is that so?” He groaned softly, his shades tilting to the tip of his nose as he looked over to Zayne’s direction, “and why?”
“I just can’t help but wonder what she sees in you,” Zayne smirked slightly, trying to mask his annoyance. “The more I think, the more I assume that, at this point, you could only impress me, Sylus.”
“Hah,” Sylus scoffed, coiling his long legs before turning around, sitting up as he faced Zayne with a defiant look, “I must occupy quite the space in that handsome head of yours. Flattering, I do say.”
Their eyes locked, the tension enough to stop time itself. If this wasn’t your place, if they weren’t waiting for you, who could guess how bad it would go?
“A difficult personality, to say the least, terrible history and don’t even let me get started with your field of ‘work’, Sylus,” Zayne shook his head, showing the full glory of his contempt. He wouldn’t let this side of him out anywhere near you, but Sylus? That was a different story. “You’re a menace, to her and to society, if you ask me.”
Still, the more words Zayne threw at him, the large Sylus’ grin seemed to grow. “What else, doctor? Are you going to say I don’t look good enough for her, too? I think I’m going to cry,” he chuckled.
Zayne knew it was no use to keep talking, that it wouldn’t do him any good to play Sylus’ games and that it could even backfire - but the thought of that guy hanging around you made him sick, feeling like his blood was boiling inside his body. “You-”
“Now, if you ask me,” Sylus started, looking at his hands, “maybe she looked for someone like me because you’re lacking.”
!!!
“You are always frowning and nagging at her, don’t you think she is ge-”
“Enough!” Zayne hissed, clenching his hand and swinging the back of his fist towards Sylus’ face.
“Careful there, doctor,” Sylus hummed, holding Zayne’s wrist as he blocked the hit, “you might get yourself another patient at this rate. You need to relax.”
“L-let go, you ruffian- agh!” Zayne groaned, unable to stop Sylus from pulling him off his seat and into the couch, next to him. Charging at someone who was, clearly, physically stronger and more experienced in fights was a mistake. “U-unhand me, you- aghahaha!”
“So you do know how to smile, huh?” Sylus teased, holding Zayne’s hand out of his way while tickling his now exposed side. His fingers pressed and tweaked at the doctor’s stomach and lower ribs, making annoyed giggles spill from Zayne’s lip one after the other. “You’d be much more charming if you smiled like this more often, for starts.”
That man was quickly becoming one of the worst things that happened in his life, Zayne’s thought. As much as he wanted to hiss and roar with annoyance, all he could do was flash Sylus a crooked smile, baring his gritted teeth. “S-shuhut it!! I dohon’t neeheed to hehear it frohohom you!”
“Do you have any other option right now?” Sylus mocked, letting out a quiet smile when Zayne’s back arched as soon as he moved his hand up to tickle his ribs, “might as well make the best of this situation and learn a thing or two, doctor.”
“S-StoHOhohop it, yohohou bahahastaha- AHAhah!”
“That wasn’t very nice, now, was it?” Sylus shook his head, clicking his lips as if he was reprimanding a child, “ask me nicely and I might stop before you embarrass yourself.”
Zayne felt his face burning, the bloodrush making his cheeks warm up quickly. He used his free hand to paw and swat at Sylus’, trying to stop it from tickling him, from climbing his body any higher. “A-as ihihif! I d-dohohon’t make deheheals with peheople lik- aHAHAha, l-lihike yohohou!”
“Suit yourself,” Sylus shrugged, making Zayne interrupt himself with his own laughter as he managed to sneak his fingers under the doctor’s arm, prodding at that sensitive spot. “Maybe this way I can teach you who is the boss around her-”
Click.
Despite the mess the two had themselves into, the sound of the door’s lock opening echoed through the living room loud and clear. Sylus and Zayne looked at each other, both suddenly squirming to push the other away.
“Sorry for the delay,” you hummed, holding the groceries’ bag in your other hand as you closed the door behind you, “the store was packed and my phone died on my wa…”
You stared at the scene, Sylus and Zayne sitting at each of the couch’s edges, their backs turned to one another. Zayne’s face was red and his hair disheveled while Sylus’ clothes were all wrinkled up.
“What were you guys doing?” You asked, suspicious, slowly walking inside your home.
“Nothing,” Sylus hummed, looking at Zayne with the corner of his eyes while hiding his shit-eating grin behind his hand, “right, doctor?”
“...Yes,” Zayne huffed, furrowing his brows as he focused on ignoring that annoying, insufferable man, “nothing at all.”
“Sure,” you sighed, deciding that it would be better to not pry into it, even if you didn’t buy that half-assed explanation, “I will get the snacks ready and then we can start our movie, alright? Wait for me ~”
#love and deepspace#lads#love and deepspace tickling#lads tickling#lads zayne#lads sylus#lee!zayne#ticklish!zayne#ler!sylus#zayne x reader#sylus x reader#could i use#sylus vs zayne#dunno but anyway#tickle fic#debt payoff
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Well-Maintained By Love

Pairing: Natasha Cloud x Reader
Fandom: WNBA-New York Liberty
Summary: Public calls you spoiled—Natasha not with of that.
🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @let-zizi-yap , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav , @gabischeeseballs
I didn’t think a shopping haul could cause a digital riot.
It started as something innocent—just me and T laughing in the car—her driving, me the passengers princess, shopping bags in the back, the city lights blinking behind us as I showed off the honey-blonde crochet set I’d been eyeing for weeks.
We’d hit Zara, Nordstrom, Aritzia… and even made a late-night detour to this Black-owned candle shop I love because T said she wanted to “spoil her favorite scent.”
Then dinner. T paid. Like she always does. I tried to get the bill but she just looked at me with that smug, stupidly hot smirk and said, “You get dessert, I got us.” I rolled my eyes but melted all the same. It was just us—soft and safe and warm.
Until the comments rolled in the next morning.
“Y/N don’t even reach for the bill 💀”
“T paying for everything??? yeah she spoiling a high-maintenance princess lol”
“Gold digger energy, lowkey.”
“I wish Natasha was with grounded women.”
“She got T buying out stores and she don’t even work fr.”
It didn’t matter that I had a job. That I freelanced. That I budgeted. That I paid my own bills—I wanted to pay rent but T said not a chance once I officially moved in. Or that I took care of my grandparents like they once took care of me.
People saw a few shopping bags and a girl in acrylics and assumed I was living off someone else’s dime.
It wasn’t just a shopping haul. It became a referendum on my worth.
It festered. All week.
Every time we went to do anything—T tried to pay for groceries, I blocked the card reader with my body.
She reached for the Uber app? I already had Lyft open.
Dinner? “I’ll cook,” I told her. “We don’t need to eat out all the time.”
She looked at me sideways every time, like I was glitching in real time.
“You okay?” she finally asked on Friday when we were curled up on the couch watching Snowfall, me unusually quiet.
I nodded. “Just tired.”
She paused the show. I winced.
“No, you’re not. You’ve been dodging my card like it’s cursed all week.”
I tucked my knees up under my chin. “I just… I don’t want people thinking I’m with you for what you can buy me.”
T frowned. “Why would anyone think that?”
I unlocked my phone, scrolled, and shoved it at her. She didn’t even flinch. Just read. Blinked. Exhaled.
“That’s what this is about?”
“It’s not just that. I know you love me. And I love you, too. But the way people are talking? Like I’m some bougie leech or—”
“Stop.”
She didn’t say it mean. Just firm. Unmoving.
“I’m serious, T—”
“I know. That’s why I’m stopping you.” She turned toward me, both her hands finding my thighs. “You think I don’t see how hard you work? The nights you stay up editing content for clients, running errands for your grandparents, baking for your friends, picking out my vitamins like a personal chef-nutritionist hybrid?”
I bit my lip. “I just don’t want you thinking I expect you to—”
“Baby, I like paying for you.”
That made me shut up.
“I love paying for you. You know why?” Her hands slid to my waist. “Because I love you. And I live for that smile on your face when I get you something you’ve been saving up for. You light up like a little kid. You squeal. You show me your Pinterest boards. You do happy dances.”
I tried not to laugh. “I don’t squeal.”
“You squeal, baby. Don’t lie.”
“…Maybe a little.”
T leaned her forehead against mine. “You are not high maintenance. You are well-maintained. By me. Your loving-ass fiancée.”
My throat tightened.
“I see how you handle your own, and then some,” she whispered. “This? The money? The clothes? The food? That’s just my way of saying thank you. For the love. For the laughs. For being soft in a world that tries to harden you.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. “You’re gonna make me cry.”
She kissed it away. “Let ‘em talk. They don’t know you.”
The next morning, Natasha went live.
I didn’t even know until I came back from the kitchen with her coffee and my latte and heard her saying, “I wasn’t gonna say anything, but let’s clear the air.”
Her phone was propped up on the coffee table.
She looked… calm. But sharp. Like she wasn’t here to play.
“So there’s been a lot of noise lately about my girl. About how she’s ‘spoiled’ or ‘high maintenance’ or ‘a gold digger’ because I paid for a few shopping bags and a meal.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Let me make something real clear: Y/N’s been working since she was fifteen. Now she’s taking care of her grandparents. They taught her life lessons before she even knew how to take care of herself. Has a job. A savings account. An emergency fund and a backup plan.”
I stood frozen with the drinks in hand.
“She’s not high maintenance. She’s high value. And I maintain her. Because that’s my job. That’s my privilege.”
My heart stopped.
“She’s not spoiled. She’s loved. And if loving her loudly makes y’all uncomfortable, that says more about your relationships than it does ours.”
She leaned in closer. “So next time you want to call her out of her name, remember she earned every soft thing I give her. Every brunch. Every candle. Every pair of boots. And if that makes me a simp?”
She shrugged. “Then I’m the proudest one alive.”
I set the mugs down and climbed into her lap mid-live, wrapping my arms around her neck.
She grinned, pressing a kiss to my cheek as the comments blew up.
“Whewwww Natasha said what she said.”
“Relationship goals FR.”
“Y/N not spoiled, she’s cherished 🥺”
“And I oop—let me go apologize to my girl.”
I whispered, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” Her voice softened. “You protect me all the time. It’s my turn.”
That night, she tucked me in like I was made of porcelain. Rubbed my back while we listened to whatever was on TV. Let me cry a little, because being misunderstood when you’re soft-hearted is its own kind of hurt.
But in her arms, I didn’t feel like a stereotype.
I felt seen. Safe. Chosen.
“I still want to pay sometimes,” I whispered into her neck.
“And you can,” she whispered back. “But only if you let me spoil you too.”
“Deal.”
She chuckled. “You do squeal, though.”
“Shut up.”
But I smiled.
Because yeah—maybe I was spoiled.
But only by love. Only by her. And that? That was nothing to be ashamed of.
■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■
-Thank You For Reading!💚💙
-prettygirl-gabi✨️💗
#paige bueckers#uconn wbb#gabi writes#wbb#support the writers!#°~prettygirlgabi ask~°#gabi answers#uconn women’s basketball#uconn huskies#oneshot#wnba player#wnb#wnba fanfic#wnba x reader#wnba basketball#wnba New York liberty#new your liberty#natasha cloud#Natasha cloud x reader#Natasha cloud x fem reader#gabi writes things
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Joe x Angel General #30 “why is arson always your first answer.” With # 7 “ Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.”
One thing Angel is going to do? Crash out over her man. The one time she does, she goes viral for it.


1k & Birthday Bash nav | main navigation | reqs | table of contents
#30 “why is arson always your first answer.” & # 7 “ Is that blood?” “Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” “You are literally bleeding.”
Joe Burrow x Angel
• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

It was a Wednesday. The kind of midweek day where nothing felt right—gray skies, sticky air, and a mood clinging to Joe Burrow like the defensive linemen who kept finding a way past the Bengals’ O-line.
Practice had been brutal. Spirits in the locker room were low. And while Joe wasn’t the type to spiral, the weight of the season—the missed blocks, the broken plays, the endless postgame blame—was heavy.
So when he slid into the car after practice, hoodie half-zipped and hair still wet from the showers, he barely had time to exhale before Angel launched into a full-on rant from the driver’s seat.
Zariyah, their two-and-a-half-month-old daughter, was buckled into her car seat behind them, a pacifier bobbing rhythmically in her mouth as she blinked up at the roof, totally unbothered.
Angel didn’t even wait for the door to close before she launched in.
“You mean to tell me,” she began, one hand on the wheel and the other flying like it was directing traffic in a Beyoncé music video, “that Coach McFlop over there really said you need to play smarter? You? The same Joe who’s been dragging this team like a Costco cart with three busted wheels?”
Joe leaned back against the headrest, watching her with an amused, exhausted smirk.
“And don’t even get me started on the defense. They couldn’t stop a nosebleed if they had a bucket and a plan,” Angel continued. “And the media? The media can kiss my—”
Joe leaned his head back, let out a long, exhausted exhale, and closed his eyes. “Hey, babe.”
“No, no. Don’t ‘hey babe’ me. Because I know exactly what went down at practice today. You think I don’t have sources? You think that equipment manager didn’t DM me the second y’all wrapped?”
Joe cracked one eye open. “You’re texting the equipment guy again?”
“I told you,” she said, eyes on the road, tone deadly serious. “I have a network.”
He let out a slow laugh and shook his head.
Angel wasn’t done.
“I swear, if one more idiot in a headset points the finger at you instead of owning up to that fourth quarter disaster, I will drive down to the stadium with a blowtorch and a Spotify playlist titled ‘Rage, Volume 1. And AGAIN, don’t even get me started on that defense,” she continued, gesturing wildly with one hand while the other stayed on the wheel. “Giving up 380 passing yards and you’re the problem? Please. If I see the D-coordinator in a grocery store, I’m slapping the clipboard out his hand and filing it under ‘community service.’”
“Angel,” Joe interrupted gently, smiling. “Why is arson always your first answer?”
“Because it’s efficient, Joseph,” she snapped. “And these fools have clearly never seen a woman unhinged for her man.”
From the backseat, Zariyah let out a soft coo like she, too, was ride or die.
Angel’s face softened just a little at the sound. “See? She gets it.”
Their destination appeared around the corner: Swirl Up, their go-to frozen yogurt spot. Tucked between a nail salon and a sleepy pet store, it was the kind of small, unassuming place where they could just be a regular couple with a baby and a shared craving for dessert.
It was their spot—lowkey, simple, and always playing early 2000s R&B.
Joe unbuckled and stepped out first, scooping Zariyah from her seat with the kind of practiced gentleness that made Angel’s chest ache every time. He cradled her against his chest, one big hand supporting her head like she was made of glass.
Angel watched them for a beat, then exhaled the last of her rage and followed them into the shop.
It smelled like sweet cream and waffle cones inside, the air cool and clean. Early 2000s R&B hummed low from the speakers—Usher, pre-confessions. A soft smile ghosted over Joe’s lips. For once, it felt like a moment they could breathe.
Joe held Zariyah against his chest as they stepped inside. He rocked her gently, his hand protectively cupped over her tiny back, while Angel scanned the place like a lioness clocking threats in the Serengeti.
They stood in line. Zariyah snuggled into Joe’s hoodie, her small fingers curling against the drawstrings. Joe bounced her lightly on his arm, more out of habit than effort. Angel stood close, their bodies brushing with that familiar, magnetic ease that came from years of being each other’s gravity.
Angel leaned against Joe’s arm while he bounced Zariyah, who was blinking up at the ceiling like it was the Sistine Chapel. That’s when Angel noticed a group of teenagers whispering near the toppings bar, eyes darting toward them like they were witnessing a celebrity Bigfoot sighting.
Three of them huddled near the toppings bar, eyes wide, whispering and nudging each other like middle schoolers at a school dance. One of them—a tall boy with shaggy hair and braces—gathered the courage to walk up, holding his phone like a peace offering.
“Uh… Mr. Burrow?” he asked, voice cracking slightly. “Could I maybe get a picture with you? If that’s okay?”
Joe turned slightly to Angel. Not for permission—he didn’t need that—but to make sure she was comfortable, out of instinct. Just to check in.
She nodded, lips lifting into a small, proud smile, and reached out for Zariyah. “Go ahead, superstar.”
The photo was quick, polite. The kid was beaming like he’d just won the lottery, and when the group left, Angel could hear him whisper-shouting, “Bro! He’s so cool, and his wife is lowkey scary but hot!”
She smirked. “Damn right.”
They ordered—Joe got vanilla with crushed Oreos, Angel picked salted caramel with fresh strawberries—and made their way to their usual booth in the back. Joe sat with Zariyah nestled in the crook of his arm, carefully letting her tiny fingers brush against his spoon, even though she wasn’t eating solids yet. While Angel draped her arm over the back of the seat, finally relaxing.
For a minute, everything was perfect.
Then they heard it.
Two voices—one male, one female—sitting in the booth behind them. The woman sounded like she was just trying to get through the date. The man, unfortunately, had chosen Joe as his topic of the day.
“I’m just saying,” he said, clearly trying to sound like he had authority on the matter, “Burrow’s not that guy anymore. Dude peaked at LSU. He’s a system quarterback. Always has been.”
The girlfriend tried to hush him. “Can you not—he’s right there.”
“I don’t care. Someone’s gotta say it. He ain’t the future. He's fucking Cinderella except his knee is the glass slipper. Broken and worthless.”
Angel’s spoon stopped mid-air.
She hadn’t even looked up yet, but Joe knew—felt—that something had shifted. He didn’t need to hear what had set her off. He already knew what it was.
The booth behind them. A man and his date, talking just a little too loud. Loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. Loud enough for someone who was already riding the edge of protective fury to tip right over.
Joe didn’t look back. He kept his focus on Angel, his instincts sharpened by three years of knowing exactly what her stillness meant.
He reached under the table and placed a firm but gentle hand on her knee. “Babe,” he said low, calm, practiced. “Don’t.”
But the rage had already arrived. She was past the warning stage, beyond talking down.
Angel stood slowly, not with sudden violence, but with the deliberate grace of someone who knew they were about to make a scene. Every line in her body was relaxed—but only in that dangerous, feline way. The calm before the clap of thunder.
Zariyah, now cradled safely in Joe’s arms, blinked up at the shop lights, completely unaware that her mother was about to throw hands over froyo.
Angel’s sneakers barely made a sound as she walked toward the booth.
“Hi,” she said sweetly to the man who’d been running his mouth. Her tone was polite, disarming—but the slight upward curl of her lip made the woman sitting with him stiffen in her seat.
“You wanna repeat what you just said a little louder?” Angel tilted her head, her eyes dancing with fire. “I didn’t quite catch it.”
The guy blinked at her, surprised, then offered a smirk. That kind of smug, performative confidence that only ever came from someone who’d never been punched in the face.
“Look, lady, I’m just calling it like I see it,” he shrugged, half-laughing.
Angel didn’t even blink. “Funny,” she said, “because I don’t remember anyone asking you to call a damn thing. What I do remember is my husband putting in more work before breakfast than you’ve done in your whole life.”
Joe rose from the booth behind her, voice steady but concerned. “Alright, let’s—”
“Let me,” Angel cut in, her back still to him. Her tone brooked no interference. “Handle this.”
The guy’s smirk faltered, but he still stood. Poor fool.
He squared his shoulders like someone trying to remember how testosterone worked. “It’s just my opinion.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” Angel said, taking a small step forward, “but here’s the thing. You don’t get to disrespect my husband. Not in front of me. And definitely not in front of my daughter.”
The man scoffed and leaned back in his seat, arms folded like he was settling in for a show. “Please, it’s a free country.” he said with a smirk, “your husband’s just another overhyped quarterback with glass bones and a padded contract. Man’s spent more time in rehab than on the field. Honestly, I don’t know what’s softer—his knee, or his ego.”
His mouth curled upward in smug satisfaction.
Joe’s expression didn’t change—but his eyes flicked down for just a second, that old familiar wound reopening in his chest.
Angel, however, blinked once. Just once.
Then her entire expression dropped into something flat. Focused. Final.
The man barely had time to register the shift.
His mouth opened again—maybe to double down, maybe to gloat—but he didn’t get the chance to finish.
Angel’s fist moved so fast it barely registered.
Crack.
The sound echoed through the frozen yogurt shop like a firecracker. It wasn’t a slap, it was a full-force, knuckles-first right hook—years of boxing classes, weight training, and protective rage behind it. The man’s head snapped to the side violently. He reeled backward, crashing into his own table, a hand flying up to his face as blood immediately began to stream from his nose.
Gasps rang out from every corner of the shop. A spoon clattered to the floor. A child started crying.
Joe was already up and moving, Zariyah still nestled in the crook of his arm.
In one smooth, efficient move, he secured Zariyah against his chest, snatched both frozen yogurt cups from the table with a practiced football grip, and hooked an arm around a very pissed-off Angel practically over his shoulder as he made for the exit.
Angel wasn’t making it easy. She was still craning her neck over his shoulder, arms flailing, as if she had just one more thing to say—or throw.
“Let me just—one more shot!” she hissed, twisting in Joe’s grasp. “He said you weren’t the future, Joe! He said it in front of our child!”
Outside, the dusk had cooled the air. Joe all but wedged her between himself and the SUV, using the car as a barrier and his body as a shield.
His voice dropped low, heavy with command. “Angel. Enough.”
The words hung between them. Her chest heaved with adrenaline and fury, but she stilled.
A beat later, a small whimper floated from behind him.
Zariyah.
Joe glanced down. Their daughter’s little face was starting to scrunch with confusion, her lips puckering like she was gearing up for a cry.
Angel’s focus snapped back.
The fire in her eyes faltered, then dimmed as her gaze locked on her daughter.
Her shoulders dropped. “I wasn’t about to let him disrespect you like that,” she said softly, her voice rough with emotion. “Not when I’ve seen the work. Not when I know the weight you carry. Not in front of her.”
Joe didn’t speak right away. He studied her—his firebrand of a wife, breathing hard and bleeding, her knuckles red and raw but her pride intact.
“I get it,” he said finally, gently. “I do. But you can’t fight the whole world.”
Angel’s lip twitched upward. “You just watch me, Joe Burrow. I will burn the whole fucking thing down about you and Zariyah.”
He was about to respond when his gaze dropped to her right hand. His expression shifted instantly.
“Wait… is that blood?”
Angel looked down casually, flexing her fingers. Her knuckle was angry and red, the skin cracked and beginning to swell.
“Yeah,” she said, brushing it off. “But that’s not important right now. What is important—”
“You are literally bleeding, Angel.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That is not the flex you think it is.”
She sighed as Joe gently took her injured hand in his, inspecting it with furrowed brows like it belonged to someone precious. His fingers were careful, tender as he examined the bandage, the concern in his eyes impossible to hide. He stepped back, moving toward the car door. With a subtle tilt of his head, he motioned for her to follow him.
Angel slid into the back seat, her hand cradling her yogurt cup, now a sad soup of caramel and strawberry. Zariyah was in her car seat, hiccup-laughing softly, blissfully unaware that her mother had just broken at least one social rule—and possibly a man’s face.
Joe stood in the doorway of the car, one arm resting against the frame. He reached in, effortlessly buckling Zariyah in with practiced ease, checking every strap, every latch with precision. Once satisfied, he turned and handed Angel her yogurt, the cup warm in her hands.
“I told you not to let me go in there alone,” she muttered, blowing on her knuckle like it might cool the pain. Her voice was quieter now, the fire from earlier finally fading into a mixture of frustration and regret.
Joe gave her a dry smile, his gaze still intense as he leaned slightly into the car. “You walked over,” he replied, his tone even. “I didn’t let anything happen. I witnessed it.”
He stood there a moment longer, eyes roaming over her, the silent tension between them mixing with a faint undercurrent of amusement. He let out a long breath before leaning his head against the top of the car door, looking at her sideways. His expression was equal parts exasperated and awed.
“God help me, Angel,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.
“You’re gonna give our daughter a complex,” he said, half-laughing.
Angel winced as she took a spoonful of yogurt. “Good. Let her know early—Mama don’t play about Daddy.”
Joe dipped his spoon into the mushy swirl of vanilla and Oreo, feeding Zariyah a finger to distract her from the discomfort of her hiccups.
She gurgled, eyes wide and trusting.
They sat in the SUV with the doors closed and the windows cracked just enough to let the early evening breeze snake through. The adrenaline from the frozen yogurt fiasco had finally begun to taper off, replaced by a still, buzzing quiet that hung between them like smoke after a fire.
The interior smelled like caramel swirl and sugar cones, mingling faintly with the hot pavement outside and the distant scent of lavender from Zariyah’s baby lotion. It was that strange moment after chaos—where everything settled, but nothing quite felt normal yet.
In the back seat, Zariyah had finally calmed down again. Her tiny fists were curled tight, her lips parted in soft sleep-breaths, cheeks flushed a gentle pink from all the commotion. One little sock had slipped halfway off her foot, her pacifier loosely clinging to the corner of her mouth like she’d lost interest mid-suck.
Angel, now tucked into the passenger seat with her legs pulled up, cradled her freshly bandaged right hand in her lap. Her yogurt cup was still in her other hand, the once-firm swirl now a melted, soupy mess. She stirred it absently, the spoon clinking against the sides in soft, slow circles. Her shoulders, tight for the last hour, had finally started to sink back down.
Joe sat beside her, stretched out in the driver’s seat with one arm over the steering wheel and the other resting on the center console. His helmet hair was a little tousled from earlier practice, his shirt still faintly damp at the collar. He hadn’t said much since they’d gotten in the car, but he didn’t need to. He just watched her—calm, steady, his expression unreadable in that unique way only Joe Burrow could pull off. A mix of concern, amusement, and the bone-deep fatigue that only came from trying to wrangle an NFL season and a two-month-old baby in the same lifetime.
The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It was laced with familiarity—like two people who didn’t need to fill the quiet to feel heard.
Angel finally exhaled, a slow, cleansing breath. Then she rolled her head lazily against the headrest, turned her face toward him, and smirked.
“You know,” she said, her voice hoarse from yelling and full of mischief, “you’re really hot when you go all papa bear/Big dick daddy and drop the bass in your voice like that.”
Joe blinked, caught just enough off guard to smile despite himself.
Angel arched a brow. “No, seriously. That whole ‘Angel. Enough’ thing?” She mimicked his deep, commanding tone with a playful rasp. “Whew. If I hadn’t been in the middle of trying to rearrange that man’s face, I’d have dragged you into the back seat so you could rearrange something else.”
Joe flushed immediately, the tips of his ears turning a warm, familiar pink. It traveled quickly down his neck, his expression somewhere between bashful and charmed.
He laughed, soft and low, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe. But I’m right.”
He glanced at her sideways, then down at her bandaged hand. “You’re also not off the hook.”
Angel pouted dramatically. “Oh, come on. I only hit him once. That’s growth.”
“You hit him hard enough to make the toppings bar go silent,” Joe said, voice deadpan. “Pretty sure the sprinkles jumped off the counter.”
Angel shrugged, not the least bit sorry. “He called you soft.”
Her tone shifted then—less teasing, more matter-of-fact. She turned her body slightly to face him fully, eyes narrowing like she was daring him to disagree.
“And you’re not. You’re the strongest man I know, Joe. On and off the field. I don’t care how many injuries you’ve had, or what the media says when the team struggles. I’ve watched you drag your body out of bed when you could barely stand, still showing up for practice, for press, for us. You get knocked down and you get back up every damn time. That’s what makes you dangerous. That’s what makes you, you.”
Joe’s expression softened. He didn’t say anything right away—just reached across the console, brushing a thumb along her cheek. The touch was feather-light, but it carried weight. His fingers lingered there, like he needed that physical contact to anchor everything she’d just said.
Angel leaned into it, her eyes half-lidded now, that fire inside her dimmed to something slow-burning and intimate. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world outside—the whispers, the chaos, the headlines waiting to happen—faded into nothing.
Joe leaned in, just a little, and Angel met him halfway.
Their lips touched—slow, unhurried, but full of knowing. It wasn’t a kiss of apology or passion. It was something steadier. Reassuring. A quiet promise between two people who’d seen each other at their rawest and still chose each other, over and over again.
When they pulled apart, their foreheads brushed briefly before Angel settled back into her seat, a small, satisfied smile tugging at her lips.
Joe exhaled, a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
“You’re trouble,” he murmured, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“And you love it,” she shot back, grinning now.
He sighed with a chuckle, the sound settling low in his chest. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly, glancing toward the back seat where their daughter slept on, undisturbed. “Yeah, I do.”
Angel followed his gaze. Her features softened too, the fight finally draining from her in full. Whatever flame had been burning earlier was now just a warm glow in her chest, resting somewhere between devotion and exhaustion.
She leaned back against her seat, her tone lighter now. “Next time someone disrespects you,” she mused, “I’ll use my left hand. Balance things out.”
Joe gave her a long look, one brow lifting. “I need to start carrying bail money when we leave the house, don’t I?”
“Absolutely,” she said with a satisfied nod. “Better safe than sorry.”
She dipped her spoon into her yogurt again, finally taking a bite. The melted mess didn’t seem to bother her anymore. Joe reached for his too, both of them eating in companionable silence.
The sun had nearly dipped below the horizon, casting the parking lot in that hazy golden-purple light that made everything look softer than it was. The street lamp flickered on with a hum overhead. Somewhere across the lot, a couple of teenagers whispered and pointed in their direction—but this time, Angel just leaned her head on Joe’s shoulder and let it go.
And there, in that quiet moment, with their daughter breathing softly in the back seat, frozen yogurt half-melted in their hands, and Angel’s bruised knuckles cradled in Joe’s large palm, they sat.
A quarterback and the chaos he married.
Wrapped in love, defiance, and melted frozen yogurt.
Joe looked between the two of them—his fierce, loyal wife and their wide-eyed little girl—and despite the bruises, the blood, the chaos of the season, he felt something settle inside him.
No press conference, no critical sports anchor, no bad call from the sideline could touch what he had right here.
Chaos and all.
He shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips, and finally closed the car door with a quiet thud. The engine roared to life as he turned the key, the sound a small comfort in the silence that surrounded them. As the car hummed, Joe adjusted the rearview mirror, making sure everything was in place, before giving Angel a sideways glance.
“Alright, Muhammad Ali," he said with a smirk, "let's get you home before you become a hit on WorldStar.”
Angel's lips twitched into a grin, a quiet giggle bubbling up from her chest. Her laughter was light, the tension from earlier slowly melting away. She shook her head, looking at him with a playful gleam in her eye.
"You’re lucky I didn’t knock you out, too," she teased, the warmth returning to her voice.
Joe chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled out of the parking lot. The world outside may have been swirling with its usual noise, but in this little SUV, it was just them—two imperfectly perfect people with a baby who was probably going to grow up knowing that her mom could throw hands if needed.
And that, in the end, was enough.
Joe smirked, keeping his eyes on the road, but his voice dropped into a more teasing tone. “Save those moves for the bedroom, baby.”
Angel gasped, her hand shooting out to smack his arm. "Joe! Our daughter is right there!" she said, her voice a mixture of playful shock and mock indignation.
Joe laughed, the deep sound vibrating through the car. “Hey, just saying, that right hook? Kinda got me thinking… you’d be dangerous in the bedroom.”
She shot him a glare, though it was softened by the corners of her mouth, which were still curled in amusement. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Unbelievably lucky,” he quipped, winking at her.
Angel rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. She glanced in the rearview mirror at Zariyah, who had drifted off to sleep again, blissfully unaware of the banter between her parents.
“Just wait until she starts talking,” Angel muttered, "she’s going to be repeating everything.”
Joe laughed again, but it was the kind of laugh that felt like home—easy, full of affection, and just a little bit mischievous.
And as they pulled out onto the quiet street, heading home, Joe knew that no matter how crazy things got, this was exactly where he needed to be.
.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.
The Next Day – Bengals Practice Facility
The sun blazed over the practice field, casting long shadows as the team jogged through warm-ups. Cleats scraped against turf, and coaches barked instructions from the sidelines. Joe wiped sweat from his brow with the edge of his sleeve as they hit a water break, making his way toward the benches where Tee and Ja'Marr were already half-slouched, guzzling water like it was life support.
“Yo,” Tee said, eyeing Joe with narrowed suspicion, “why you walking like your back’s tight? You sleep on the couch or something?”
Joe gave a dry laugh, twisting the cap off his Gatorade. “Nah. Just trying to recover from last night’s chaos.”
Ja'Marr glanced over. “What happened?”
Joe took a beat. He sipped his drink, then leaned against the bench like someone preparing to drop a bomb.
“You know how Angel is,” he started, voice low but amused. “We went to get frozen yogurt. Just a chill night, right? Me, her, and Zariyah.”
Tee raised a brow. “Sounds harmless so far.”
“Yeah… until some dude at the shop starts talking loud trash about me. Like loud-loud.”
Ja'Marr tilted his head. “You say something to him?”
Joe shook his head. “Didn’t get the chance.”
Both Tee and Ja'Marr stared, blinking. “…Nah,” Tee said slowly. “You don’t mean—”
Joe nodded. “Angel handled it.”
“Handled it?” Ja'Marr repeated, leaning forward. “Bro. Define ‘handled.’”
Joe tried to fight the grin creeping across his face, but failed. “She walked up to the dude, said something smooth and threatening, he said some reckless stuff about my past injuries—like, ‘washed up,’ ‘not the future,’ the usual loudmouth nonsense—and she just… clocked him. One hit. Boom.”
There was a pause. A long one.
Then: “She hit him?” Tee yelled, nearly choking on his water.
Joe held up his hands. “Square in the face. I barely had time to react. Man flew back like someone hit ‘rewind’ on him.”
Ja'Marr started laughing so hard he nearly dropped his bottle. “Naaaah! Not Angel! Wait—how bad?”
“Busted his nose,” Joe said casually. “She messed up her knuckle. I had to carry her, the baby, and our yogurt to the car like we were fleeing a crime scene.”
Tee stood there with his mouth wide open. “Your wife turned a froyo run into a Mortal Kombat match.”
“I told her she was gonna end up on WorldStar,” Joe muttered, shaking his head with a smirk.
“Did she at least feel bad?” Ja'Marr asked, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.
“She flirted with me in the car,” Joe said, deadpan. “Said I was hot when I get all ‘papa bear.’ Then told me next time, she’ll use her left hand to ‘balance it out.’”
Tee just stared. “You married a superhero and a menace.”
Joe shrugged, grinning now. “Chaos and all.”
Ja'Marr let out another laugh. “I swear, if I see this on Twitter later…”
“Oh, it’s coming,” Tee said, pulling out his phone. “Matter of time before someone posts security footage or a witness comes forward.”
Joe sighed, running a hand down his face. “Please don’t let this hit ESPN.”
Ja'Marr leaned in, still grinning. “Nah, man. If it does? I’m sending Angel a ‘thank you’ bouquet.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Y’all are the worst.”
“We’re not the ones handing out haymakers at dessert shops,” Tee said, already laughing again.
.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.
Later That Evening – The Burrow Household
The house was calm—finally.
Zariyah was asleep in her bassinet, arms raised above her head like she was dreaming about leading a revolution. Joe was curled up on the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, baby monitor balanced on one knee. Angel padded in from the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas over her wrapped hand and dropped beside him with a groan.
“Remind me to stop punching people who have weak noses,” she muttered.
Joe didn’t look up from his phone. “That’s oddly specific.”
“Because I’m oddly injured,” she replied, lifting the peas to her temple with a dramatic sigh. “He had the bone density of a graham cracker.”
Joe grinned. “I still can’t believe you actually hit him.”
Angel smirked. “I warned him.”
Just then, Joe’s phone buzzed. And then again. And again. And again.
He glanced at the screen.
Then blinked.
Then sat up a little straighter.
“…Uhh. Angel?”
“What?” she asked, head resting on the back of the couch.
“Did you… see this?”
He turned his screen toward her. A Twitter/X video was playing on loop. Grainy footage—clearly a phone recording—captured every second. The frozen yogurt shop. Angel walking up to the man. The exchange. The punch. The gasp. Joe scooping up the baby. Angel being dragged out like a gremlin with unfinished business.
The caption read: “JOE BURROW’S WIFE KNOCKS DUDE OUT FOR TALKING SMACK 😭🔥 #.RideOrDie #.QueenEnergy #.ProtectJoeAtAllCosts”
Angel’s jaw dropped. “Oh my God. Who filmed that?!”
The video had over 4.2 million views. In four hours.
“Babe,” Joe said, scrolling through the replies. “You are trending.”
Angel whipped around to snatch the phone. “No. Nuh-uh. No way I’m—”
She froze.
The top tweet:
“I need someone to love me the way Angel Burrow loves Joe. I’d commit war crimes for this kind of loyalty.”
The next:
“Joe Burrow has a 2-month-old and a wife who throws hands like she’s in a Marvel movie. Bengals might be 2-5 but he already won at life.”
Then another:
“We don’t talk enough about the fact that a man disrespected Joe Burrow once and caught a knuckle sandwich with extra sprinkles.”
Angel’s eyes widened. “Why is this actually hilarious?”
Joe leaned back into the couch, biting back a grin. “Tee sent me the video and just wrote: ‘AYO. SHE REAL.’”
Angel couldn’t help it—she laughed. Loud, belly-deep, head-thrown-back kind of laugh. “Oh, this is insane.”
“Yeah,” Joe said. “But also kinda flattering.”
“I mean,” she said, smirking at him, “you saw me in action. That was love and upper body strength.”
“And great footwork,” Joe added, nodding seriously. “You stepped into the punch.”
“I did, didn’t I?” she grinned proudly.
Another buzz. Joe checked his phone again and started reading: “‘She said “Not in front of my daughter” like she was in a superhero origin story.’”
Angel blinked, then looked at him sideways. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“You did. And then you punched a guy.”
Angel exhaled. “Okay, so now the entire internet knows I’m a menace. Perfect.”
Joe turned to her, resting his arm along the back of the couch. “No. Now the entire internet knows you love your husband so much, you’re willing to commit a minor misdemeanor in public. That’s soulmate stuff.”
Angel squinted. “You better hope this doesn’t end up on First Take. If Stephen A. Smith calls me a thug, I swear to God—”
“I’ll call him myself,” Joe replied dryly. “And ask if he wants the smoke too.”
They both burst into laughter again.
Angel curled into his side, careful not to bump her hand. “Guess I should work on my media apology voice.”
Joe kissed her temple. “We’ll script it after Zariyah’s next nap.”
The baby stirred lightly in the monitor, then fell back asleep.
Angel sighed. “At least she didn’t see it.”
Joe reached for the remote and turned on the TV. “You know what this means, right?”
“What?”
“You’re officially the scariest Burrow in the house.”
Angel smirked, settling deeper into his arms. “Took them long enough to figure that out.”
.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·..·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.
The living room was dimly lit, the soft flicker of the TV casting shadows across the walls as Zariyah cooed from her bouncer in the corner. Angel sat cross-legged on the couch, Joe sprawled beside her with one arm draped over the back cushions. Her phone was practically glued to her hand as she scrolled through the endless stream of tweets, memes, and tags lighting up her notifications like fireworks.
“Yo, people are fast,” she muttered, eyes widening slightly as she came across yet another viral remix of the incident—this one set to DMX’s “Party Up.” “This one has theme music. Like, actual sound editing.”
Joe chuckled beside her, his gaze flicking to her bandaged hand as she used it to swipe.
“You good?” he asked, not for the first time.
Angel just gave a dramatic sigh and kept scrolling. “It’s sore, but my pride is thriving.”
Joe smirked, but before he could respond, his phone buzzed loudly on the coffee table. The screen lit up with a FaceTime call.
Ja’Marr.
Joe grinned knowingly. “Here we go.”
He answered and propped the phone up on a throw pillow between them, hitting speaker.
Ja'Marr’s face filled the screen, already mid-laugh. “YO! Angel ‘Hands of Justice’ Burrow! What’s good, champ?”
Angel groaned but couldn’t fight the smile. “Goodnight, Ja’Marr.”
“Nah, nah, you don’t get to go quiet now. Sis, you really hit that man like he insulted your whole bloodline. I thought it was a prank at first. I had to rewatch it like four times.”
“Only four?” Joe teased. “I think Tee’s on his seventh. He said he’s studying her form for when the team fights back at pressers.”
“I’m just saying!” Ja’Marr laughed. “She squared up like she had a fight song playing in her head.”
Angel held up her bandaged hand. “And now I got a busted knuckle and a trending hashtag.”
“#AngelBurrowSaidBingBong is everywhere,” Ja’Marr said, wheezing. “You might be more famous than Joe now.”
Joe leaned into the frame. “I can live with that.”
“You don’t have a choice, bro. Y’all got Black Twitter and suburban moms on your side now. That’s the double threat.”
Angel tilted her head. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
Ja’Marr grinned. “Oh, 100%. And guess who else is loving it?”
Angel’s brow quirked. “Please don’t say who I think you’re about to say.”
“Your mother-in-law,” Ja’Marr confirmed gleefully.
Angel sat up straighter. “Wait. Robin saw it?”
Joe raised a brow. “My mom?”
Ja’Marr laughed harder. “Bro, she texted me before I even saw the video. Said—and I quote—‘Well… she did warn him.’”
Angel stared at Joe, stunned. “Your mom saw it?”
“And she’s unbothered, clearly,” Joe chuckled.
“Your dad?” she asked slowly.
Joe’s phone buzzed again. He checked the screen. “And there’s a text from him now. Hold on…”
He tapped it open and held the screen up for her to see. It was a photo of Jimmy Burrow sitting comfortably on the back porch, holding a "#1 Dad" coffee mug, beside a printed-out freeze frame of Angel’s punch mid-arc like a Renaissance painting.
Underneath it was a caption: “Angel’s got a mean right hook. Proud to have her in the family.”
Angel threw her head back into the couch cushions and groaned. “Oh my God.”
Ja’Marr howled. “You’ve made it, sis. Y’all are officially a dynasty.”
Joe leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Angel’s temple, the warmth in his voice unmistakable. “You’re a legend, babe. Chaos and all.”
She peeked out from behind her hands, barely suppressing a smile. “You think Zariyah’s gonna see this one day?”
Ja’Marr answered without missing a beat. “She’s gonna brag about it in kindergarten. ‘My mommy hit a man for talking trash about my daddy.’”
Joe laughed. “We’ll teach her to use her words first.”
Angel smirked. “Unless someone talks trash about her daddy.”
Ja'Marr gave a full salute through the screen. “Can’t wait for her TED Talk: Defending Joe Burrow With These Hands.”
Angel narrowed her eyes. “Okay, I’m hanging up now.”
“Love y’all!” Ja'Marr called out as the screen went black.
Angel dropped the phone into Joe’s lap and shook her head, a mixture of exasperation and reluctant amusement on her face.
“I just wanted frozen yogurt,” she muttered.
Joe slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, whispering with a grin, “And you got internet immortality instead.”
Angel sighed, leaning into him, the bandage on her hand cool against his side. “Just promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“No more public dessert spots for the next month.”
Joe chuckled, kissing her temple again. “Deal. We’ll go underground with our ice cream runs.”
And as Zariyah snored softly in the background, the three of them tucked into the kind of peace that could only come after complete and utter chaos—with trending hashtags, family group chats, and a love fierce enough to throw a punch when it counted.
#honeydipped1k#thed.i.l.fchronicles#thed.i.l.fchroniclesasks#x black fem reader#x black!fem!reader#x black!reader#x black reader#x reader#joe burrow x black!reader#joe burrow x black reader#joe burrow lsu#joe burrow bengals#joe burrow#joey b#bengals#cincinnati bengals#joey burrow#joe shiesty#joe cool#joe burrow x reader#joe burrow x y/n#joe burrow x you#joe burrow x oc#joe burrow imagine#joe burrow fanfic#joe burrow angst#joe burrow au#joe burrow fic#joe burrow fluff#joe burrow blurb
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Building a Home
Simon’s mom tells him if the life he would have, Simon will come to see she was right.
“This is a place where I don’t feel alone. This is a place where I feel at home.”
A/N: Listen will never stop thinking of stories with her art @ave661 😭✋🏼
Warnings: fluff, angst, childhood trauma, trauma, soft!simon, small mentions of smut, mentions of death, husband!simon, dad!simon, swearing
simon x reader guide
simon x reader family edition
“Simon,” Simon turned to look at his mom. Her gray hair coming out more as so her wrinkles. Simon came over to her home to visit before he had to leave for deployment. He hummed to let her know he heard her. She placed her tea down before turning fully to him. “You need to find ya a girl.”
Simon rolled his eyes, topic of conversation after Tommy had Joseph. “Mum,” He moaned setting his tea next to her on the shared table next to them. She loves sitting out on her porch in the middle of the day. It felt nice during the fall, where the weather would be that nice warm that would go to cold eventually. “We ‘ren’t talking ‘bout this.”
“We need to,” She chuckled. “Ya not gonna stay old for long.”
Simon shook his head. “Mum really I don’t need a woman.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh I didn’t realize that it wasn’t women,” Simon raised an eye brow to her. “I always thought it was only women.”
Simon choked on his tea. “No it’s not that mum,” He groaned rolling his eyes. “Probably would be easier.” He mumbled.
She chuckled. “It’s the same no matter if it was a man or woman,” They both chuckled before she sighed. “Really Simon, you need to find you a young lady. Would love to see both my sons married. That they would be taken care of.”
Simon sighed. “Right now isn’t the time.”
His mom looked at him and nodded. “It will come without you knowing it.”
Simon didn’t believe her when she said that. Especially when she died he didn’t believe her. No one could love Simon Riley, he was a cold hearted monster. Who’s hands weren’t as innocent as it was then. No one would want to touch him to become as dark as he was.
Simon barely got close to anyone, too afraid of losing someone. It always happened, nothing went right for Simon. Once he got close or happy it would be snapped away from him, like he didn’t deserve it. So why put himself in a situation where he could potentially get close?
At work Johnny would try to be friends with him but he would bat him off. Still Johny does of course taking it as a challenge but Simon is a stubborn one. Price even warned Soap about how he might be buried if he kept trying. New recruits would call him ‘SUTA’ which he figured out it was ‘stick up the ass.’
So he never believed his mother no woman would love a man that was considered a cold hearted man that couldn’t be thawed. Which he was fine with, he loved being alone. He got used to being alone.
Yet you came along for the ride. You were this woman that came up to him at a grocery store, asking for help to reach an item. You weren’t scared of him. Timid. You made eye contact, curiously watching him. Simon even didn’t say a word as he did the service for you. It didn’t even make him bat an eye at you until; you made a joke about how short you were saying there wasn’t counters to hop on.
Simon then joked with you about how you could have climbed the shelves like a monkey. You laughed, making his stomach turn and his heart beat faster. Both of you talked in the aisle until you said that both of you should finish the conversation with a drink. Simon agreed.
“Ya always say that.” He grumbled grabbing his tea once more.
His mom grabbed her tea as well taking a sip. “That’s what happened with Tommy.”
Simon sighed, before looking forward at the scenic view. “Tommy is a better man mum.”
“Says the one who got him out of his rut,” She mumbled eyeing him. “Says the one who cut their father out his life including his families,” Simon looked at her narrowing his eyes. “Don’t you dare say that ya are not Simon Riley.” Simon sighed looking away. “Ya too hard on yourself.”
Simon took a sip of his tea. “Well it is what it is.”
“Ya stubborn is what that is.” She commented chuckling. “Ya get it from me.”
Simon huffed amused. “Lucky me.”
It was silent for a moment. “I’m gonna say this last time Simon,” She spoke looking at him. “Ya gonna have a beautiful wife that can handle ya stubborn mind, with a beautiful baby that will get that stubborn head, and a beautiful house.”
Simon chuckled. “Will I get a stubborn mutt too?”
“Oh you would have to,” Both of them laughed as she smiled at him. “Ya come to me to thank me. To say I was right.”
Simon didn’t expect it. Just his team, your family, him, and you. The wedding dress close to your body, the smile plastered on your face. The tears slipping out of his eyes as you walked towards him.
You looked like you came from heaven itself. Your hair curled just the way you liked it, the make up simple and barely noticeable, and that fucking smile. Happy. You kept up with his stubborn ass for 5 years before he proposed.
5 years of being patient with him, he wasn’t the best boyfriend at the beginning. He didn’t know how to be. Physical touch was never a thing for a very long time. You thought at first he hated you but realized that the other things he did showed his care. He didn’t even kiss you until 9 months into the relationship. He didn’t say I love you, the actual sentence until 3 years in the relationship. You both didn’t have sex until 7 months into the relationship.
What did you do? Nothing. You understood, you didn’t ask to touch him or interact with it until he did. His pinky grabbing yours while walking inside a mall. That would eventually go to him wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You would only kiss his cheek or forehead until he would grab your cheeks and plant his lips on yours. You would say I love you to him first naturally but he would respond by I know. It wasn’t until you both were watching the stats on a hill before he turned to you saying I love you. You never pressured him to have sex, you would make out and once it got heated he would stop. Apologizing. You would shake your head and place a kiss on his cheek. Until he finally wanted to, you would make sure it was okay every step.
You were patient with his “stubbornness,” at least that what he would think. Until one day you told him it wasn’t stubbornness it was his boundaries. Once those words left your mouth he knew he was in love with you. You loved him for him. It wasn’t perfect at times but you always came back and so did he. When he proposed to you, it was private.
You came home from work and being pent up you wanted Simon to do whatever to you. He fucked you senseless that night then drew a warm bath. You both were laying in the suds of the warm bath lights dimmed as he had you lean against his chest.
“Marry me.” He whispered kissing your neck softly.
At first you laughed cause you both had the conversation that he didn’t want to marry. “Okay Simon.”
Simon turned your head to him. “No dove marry me.”
It was another moment of silence as she sighed. “Even if your kid is stubborn they will be the kindest.” She added standing up. He watched her get up looking at her. “The thing I never thought that would happen because…” She paused looking away for a moment. “Because of your father, you became the kindest loving person Simon. You may deny it. But your child will always think and know that you are their hero.”
“I don’t know. Maybe one day.” He mumbled.
“You wait Simon your kid will be happy to see you come home from work again and again. That’s what ya did when I came home when you were a toddler,” He chuckled as he shook his head. “Ya did! You would yell mummy mummy look look! Show me some rock you found out in the back. Still have it.”
Simon laughed. “Ya have that thing?”
“Yep,” She chuckled rocking in the chair she was in. “On my vanity. But when that happens you will get just as excited. Yell with ‘em.”
Simon walked into the door as Riley stood by him. Price gave him the dog because of good infiltration missions, search and rescue, and bomb sniffing. Why he chose Simon to have the dog? Sole purpose because he knew that the wife wanted him and cause his name is Riley. Why wouldn’t they keep him?
When he opened the door, the squeal of delight burst into his ears. You laid on the floor with yours and his daughter. She bounced in her butt as she reached up with grab me motion. Simon’s heart did flips as a smile showed on his face. “There are my angels.” He said reaching down to hold his daughter close placing a kiss on her head. 
“Daddy daddy,” He heard pattering feet running down the hallway. The oldest running with a paper in hand. “Look look,” She shoved the paper up showing Simon, in his skull mask holding hands with you with a belly, her and the baby. “Dats all of us!”
“I see that,” He said chuckling. “We look pretty good.” The potato drawing stage has been his favorite art style. Has one in his office as we speak of Riley and him.
You got up, he noticed that you tummy was showing more the third one on the way. “You even showed my belly coming.” You joked looking up at Simon who went down for a kiss. Riley barked as his oldest went to give him a squeeze as he licked her face.
“How’s the hellins been?” He asked you kissing you again. The baby cooing as she played with his jacket.
“Hellins,” You smiled at him before placing your hand on your stomach. “This one’s especially can’t keep anything down.”
“Hm gonna have to give ‘er a long talk then.” Simon joked kissing your forehead.
The baby squealed again reaching for Riley. Your oldest laughing as she looked at both him and the baby. Riley’s tail was wagging as he patiently waited for Simon to show him the baby. You giggled as Simon sighed. “Can’t have a moment huh Ri? Have to see Allison after getting all the love from Millie?”
He barked as he got excited when Simon went to his knees. Riley walked up to his daughter licking her hand as she reached for him. Simon praised Riley as he was soft towards her, kissing his daughters head. Millie coming over to wrap her arms around his larger one. “Love ya daddy.”
“‘M not gonna be a husband nor a father mum.” He mumbled not looking at her.
“Why,” Simon shrugged and she scoffed as she looked at him. “You would never be like him,” Still didn’t say anything she frowned standing up cause him to look at her as she walked in front of him. “I do because ya father would never have kicked out someone that was hurting his family. Would never go visit his mum. Would never get his brother out of crowd he ran with. Would never play with his nephew. Would never serve his country,” She walked up to him to place a hand on his cheek. “And one day your wife will tell you and your kids will show ya how much of an amazing person you are,” Her eyes watered as she rubbed her thumb up and down. “And if you ever forget, it isn’t too late to remember.”
Simon never would have done this, never would go backwards. Too many memories too much pain. Yet when he mentioned that his mother’s birthday was coming close you mentioned to visit her. He would deny it and not say anything afterwards. Yet once the day become closer the thought became more inviting. More wanting to go.
After putting the girls to bed you both laid in the shared bed. He was more quiet that day as tomorrow was the day. You didn’t say anything about it kept going on like nothing was happening. You laid on Simon’s chest when he inhaled deeply. “Let’s have ya mum watch the kids,” He whispered. “Think I should visit my mum.”
You nodded as you melt closer to him. “You sure? I don’t have to come either.”
“I want ya there.”
Now he was here, standing in front of his family’s stones. Names engraved into them. Flowers in hand. Wind is the only sound hitting his ears besides the sound of his heart. You stood next to him looking down at the stone as well. Not saying a word. Being patient. Simon’s mind was racing rapid. “She was right ya know,” He mumbled quietly. You looked up at him giving a quizzed look. “Said that I would have the life I have. Yet I can’t tell her like she said I would.”
You looked back down at the stone before smiling, slowly grabbing his empty hand. “I think she knows Si.”
Simon inhaled deeply as tears filled his eyes. The mask hiding the trembled lip. You were right, she knew. She knew that the life she hoped that he would have came together piece by piece. Shaping the home that he gave for his loving wife and caring girls.
#Spotify#simon ghost riley#call of duty modern warfare#simon riley#simon ‘ghost’ riley#call of duty#call of duty mw2#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley smut#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x wife!reader#simon ghost x you#dad!simon ghost riley#dad!ghost#daddy!simon#dad!simon#husband!simon
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Blood & Honey Part 4 (Jax Teller x Reader)

Summary: When you take a teaching job in the quiet town of Charming, the last thing you expect is to cross paths with Jax Teller - outlaw, single father, and the leader behind the town's most infamous motorcycle club.
Authors Note: I am so sorry! For the length of this chapter and for the angst!
It was night, past midnight, when Jax heard the bedroom door being opened. A tug on the covers. Jax waking up more, half his mind telling him to be alert. But when he looked it was just Abel. He looked tired, clutching his stuffed lion.
”Had a bad dream.“ he murmured
Jax sighed, waking himself up more. He was about to reach down and pick him up when there was another voice
”Come here, sweetheart.“
You had already shifted away from him, holding up the covers. Abel didn’t need to be told twice before he climbed into bed. Settling down between the two of you.
Jax watched as you brushed Abel’s hair with your fingers, whispering something he didn’t caught but whatever it was, it worked, Abel relaxed and within minutes the kid was asleep again.
Jax was exhausted, tired after a long day but he couldn’t stop looking at you. His son, who meant everything to him and the woman he had fallen so hard for treating him like her own. It was perfect, everything he ever wanted but hadn’t let himself hope for. Especially after his last relationship went south.
He reached over, hand brushing over your arm.
”You’re good at this.“
You glanced at him, smiling sleepily
”At what?“ you asked
He exhaled and for a moment you thought he’ll say it, these words that were on the tip of your tongue for the last months.
But he just shook his head
”Everything.“
You held his gaze for a long moment, contemplating if you should just say them.
But then you reached for his hand instead, intertwining your fingers. And neither of you said anything else. You didn’t need to. The quiet safety of the bed, Abel peacefully between you. The way he had accepted you so easily in his life. The way you had let them both in. This felt like a real family. Something Jax hadn’t let himself believe he could have.
Jax walked onto the TM parking lot the next morning after he dropped you and Abel off at school. He took the mail from the mailbox. A few bills, the usual. But in the back he found a large brown envelope. 'Shit' these are never good. Jax Teller scribbled across it was the only thing on it.
Opening it he found a single paper in it.
When he pulled it out he felt his blood run cold.
A picture of you. Walking out of a grocery store.
Jax stared at it.
He knew what that means.
This was a message.
'We know who she is'
'We know where she goes'
'We know that she matters to you'
Jax was sitting at the bar. Burning cigarette between his fingers forgotten, jaw clenched and staring off into nothing.
Opie noticed immediately
”What’s going on?“ he asked taking a swig of his beer.
Jax exhaled, shaking his head
”Got a message today.“
He slid the envelope over, Opie pried inside
”Who sent this?“ Opie‘s expression darkened.
”No name, just this.“ Jax told him.
Opie swore under his breath
”Shit, they’re watching her, Jax.“
”Yeah. That’s why I gotta end it.“
That made Opie pause, taking a long unreadable look at his friend
”You sure about that?“
Jax let out a bitter chuckle
”You think I wanna do this? That I just wanna- just let her go? But I don’t see another way, man.“
Opie‘s quiet for a moment before speaking again
”You tell her about this?“
Jax clenched his jaw ”No.“
”So you just gonna let her think you don’t want her anymore?“
Jax exhaled, flicking ash of his cigarette
”It’s gotta be clean, Ope. If she knows she’ll fight me on it. And if she does, I won’t be able to do it.“
He didn’t argue immediately. He knew how dangerous this life could be for the people they loved. If someone could understand it was him after all he went through.
He shook his head, gripping Jax shoulder
”Hope you know what the hell you’re doing, brother.“
And as Opie walked off, Jax stared at the envelope knowing Opie was right. But that didn’t made the decision any easier.
The room was quiet. You had been asleep for a while now. While Jax was laying next to you, awake. One arm draped over your waist, his fingers resting lightly against your hip. He should be asleep by now. He wanted to but then tomorrow would come even sooner and he wasn’t ready for that.
So instead he watched you.
You were curled into him, face relaxed, lips slightly parted. His shirt, the one he left here weeks ago, slightly slipped off your shoulder, exposing your soft skin. Jax fingers twitched with the urge to trace it. To memorize the way you felt against his fingertips.
Because he knew that after tonight he wouldn’t get to anymore.
He leaned in, pressing the faintest kiss against your bare shoulder, taking in your scent.
”I’m sorry, Darlin‘.“ he whispered against your skin.
You stirred slightly but didn’t wake, just nuzzling deeper into his chest with a light sigh. It nearly undone him. His arms tightened around you. Just for tonight, just a little while longer.
Because tomorrow he would shatter both of your hearts.
The next morning you woke up early. A smile on your face as you saw Jax next to you. He was still asleep, deeply and peacefully. His face relaxed in a way it rarely was when he was awake. His arm heavy on your waist. He looked so at ease, so at home.
You carefully pushed a few strands of hair off his face. You should let him sleep but he wanted to drive you today. You shifted slightly, pressing a light kiss against his jaw. Then another. Lingering there. He stirred, a soft groan leaving him as his hold on you tightened.
”Hmm, mornin‘, darlin‘“ his voice was gravelly, heavy with sleep.
”Morning, Baby.“ you whispered back.
Jax opened his eyes, a soft, lazy grin spread on his lips. The grin that after all these months still made your stomach flip.
”You always wake a man up this sweet?“ he teased, hand sliding up your back to pull you closer.
You hummed ”Only the ones who deserve it.“ before pressing another kiss to his jaw.
Jax chuckled, tilting your chin up so he could kiss you properly. Slow, deep, like you had all the time in the world. And for a moment it felt like you do.
But Jax knew better, knew that it’s the last morning he would have this. So he pulled you closer, to let himself have this one last time.
You were already making coffee when he came out of the bathroom.
Jax leaned against the counter, watching you. Taking in everything. The way you pour two cups, the soft hum of a song you’re not aware you’re humming.
You turned handing him a cup. It’s the way he always takes it, he had never told you how he likes it, you’re just attentive.
”Thank you, Darlin‘.“ the nickname he called you the first time he met you, it stuck.
Fingers brushed as he took it from you.
You glanced at the clock.
”I should get my things.“
He watched as you gathered your stuff you needed for the day.
He finished his cup as you turned to him again.
”Ready?“
'Not even close.‘ he thought.
”Yeah.“
The radio was on, softly playing as he drove you to school. One hand on the steering wheel, one resting on your thigh. It’s casual, natural, almost muscle memory at this point.
Your fingers grazing over his knuckles, absentmindedly tracing them, twisting his rings.
When you turned up to school you turned towards him
”You sure you wanna pick me up later? You don’t have to if Club stuff comes up.“
”I’ll be there.“ he said ”Wouldn’t miss out on spending a drive with my girl.“
You chuckled, leaned over to kiss him.
A soft one, and another peck afterwards.
”I’ll see you.“ you said as you stepped out of the car.
He watched you as you walked into the building.
Tonight.
It would break your heart.
He hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as his heart was breaking that moment.
When school was over and you had finished clearing your classroom Jax was already waiting out front in his car.
A smile on your face as you approached him.
When you arrived at your house his mood had shifted. He had been on edge, distracted the whole way, like something was weighting on his mind but now it was obvious something was up.
”You okay?“ you asked softly.
”Can we talk?“ he asked clearing his throat
”Yeah, of course. What’s wrong?“
He looked at you for a long time before he spoke again
”I think we need to stop this.“
His words knocked the wind out of you.
”What?“ you asked
Jax jaw clenched
”It’s not safe for you when you’re with me.“
”Jax- I- where is this coming from?“
"I tried-I thought maybe I could keep you out of it, keep you away from all the shit that comes with me, but I can't."
You shook your head, stepping closer.
"Nothing's happened. I-"
But he took step back. Just a traction, but to you it felt it like a gunshot.
"Not yet," he says. "But it will. You're with me, you got a target on your back whether you like it or not."
"Jax, don't-"
"You gotta let this go," he said, and now he looked at you. And it was devastating.
Because there was love in his eyes. And pain.
And regret.
But there's also a decicion.
”Go be with someone safe, someone’s who’s good for you. A doctor or a teacher.“
”Jax, I don’t want anyone else.“
”This was never gonna work. The teacher and the Outlaw. We were just kidding ourselves.“
”Don’t.“ you said tears in your eyes now ”Don’t say this. This was real. You can’t deny that after all these months.“
He stayed silent for a moment, his hands flexing at his sides.
”I‘m sorry, darling.“ he said before he left.
You hadn’t left the house all weekend. Mostly you just laid in bed while the tv was playing some movie or a shitty reality show, whatever, it didn’t mattered anyway. You had mostly been staring at the ceiling, letting the tears run down your face.
When Monday came around you were still a mess. You knew you should go to school spending time with your class would keep you mind busy. But you couldn’t. You needed just one more day. So you called in sick. Spending another day with your sadness about losing the man you loved.
Dinner at Gemma’s had become kind of a routine the last couple days. Jax didn’t have it in him to make food every night and Abel deserved stability.
Jax sat at the table, pushing his food around, half listening to Abel telling them about his day at school.
”- but Miss Y/n wasn’t there today.“
Jax‘s fork stalled, mid motion. His eyes flicked up to Abel.
”She wasn’t?“
Abel shook his head. ”Nope, Mrs. Baker was there instead. She’s kinda mean.“ he made a face before returning back to his food ”Miss y/n was sick.“
Jax swallowed hard. Sick. Yeah. Right.
He could picture it too easily, you curled up in bed, wrapped in the blankets he used to sleep in. Had you gotten up at all since he left? Had you stared at the ceiling for hours instead of sleeping like he had? Had you felt the same ache burning a hole into your chest as he had?
His jaw clenched, fingers pressing into his tigh. He wasn’t sure why it had hit him so hard but the thought of you calling in sick because of him twisted something sharp in him. He had done this, had hurt you and now he had to live with it.
You had been back at work for a week when Monday came around again. You met Gemma in the parking lot after she picked up Abel. Something she had started to do again since the break up. And you were kind of relieved about that, seeing him everyday would’ve been to hard just yet.
Gemma hesitated before she said ”Got something for you.“
Pulling out a bag from the passenger seat. You felt cold the moment you recognized it. It was yours, the one you used to go between his place and yours.
You took it from her. You already knew what was inside. Your sweatshirt you left on his couch, the book you’ve read in his bed, some of your skin care.
Pieces that reminded you of the life you had started to build together.
Gemma studied you with sharp eyes, no doubt reading everything you weren’t saying.
”Didn’t ask for it back.“ you murmured. Gemma exhaled through her nose, ”I know.“ her voice was softer than you had expected. ”He’s the one who packed it.“
You bit your lip, gripping the strings a little tighter. She watched you a moment longer before she nodded ”Take care of yourself, sweetheart.“.
Back at home you put the bag down in your hallway. Not ready to open it up yet and started to gather up the things he had left behind.
A jacket, Jax had draped over one of your chairs. A few of Abel’s toys in your living room, stroking the fur of one of the stuffed animals, a little bear, one of his rings you found on your nightstand. It was painful, every item lingering in your hand longer that it should have.
His shirts stayed in your dresser and on the chair in your bedroom though. Not wanting to part with them because giving them back would mean completely letting him go, and you couldn’t do that yet.
It had been months since that evening.
And you still felt his absence everywhere. You threw yourself into work. Staying later at the school, grading more carefully.
You didn’t tell anyone what happened. When colleagues or friends asked you said it just didn’t work out. Of course nobody knew that you still slept in his Shirts. That they were slowly losing his scent and that alone made you panic.
And then there was Abel. He still talked to you at school, waving whenever he saw you. And after the weekends when your pupils told you about their weekend it hurt the most. Because when he told you how he rode with his Dad, how he played ball with him, how Jax made pancakes (”They weren’t like yours“) it made you remember how you were there with them. How it was supposed to be, how you missed seeing Jax laugh with his son. But you smiled at the little boys stories, telling him how exiting that sounded. When one time Abel told you that his Daddy seemed sad yesterday, it almost shattered you. You thought about calling him then but you knew it was better to stay away, hearing his voice would make you cry.
And it was the same for Jax. Abel talked about what he did in school, what you taught them, how you had complimented his drawing. And then Abels birthday was coming up, a few months after the breakup. He was exited as every other kid is about turning older. He talked about cake, presents, people he wanted to invite. He dropped it casually. The way he said he wanted you to come too. And Jax froze up. He wasn’t prepared for that.
”I don’t think she can come, buddy.“ He said, forcing himself to sound neutral. ”Why not? She’s my friend.“ Abel frowned
Because I fucked it up.
Because she can’t be near us.
Because it would hurt too much.
”It’s summer, she’s probably visiting her family.“
Abel didn’t argue but he could see his son’s disappointment. It stung.
That night Jax thought about calling you. Just to ask, just to hear your voice again. But he couldn’t. This was how it had to be.
One day Abel said something that really caught you off guard. It was maybe two months after the break up when he lingered behind as his classmates went into the Lunchbreak. ”Miss Y/n?“ His voice piped up beside you
”Can I eat lunch with you today?“ He asked, rocking slightly on his heels, eyes hopeful. Your heart stopped.
”Oh Abel,“ you said softly ”Don’t you want to eat with all your friends?“
He shrugged ”I used to eat with you and Daddy sometimes. But now we don’t.“
You could have sworn your chest cracked. You wanted to hug him, tell him none of this is his fault.
You forced a smile ”I’ll tell you what- You finish lunch with your friends and if you still want to sit with me later, you can help me organize my classroom before you’re getting picked up. Sound good?“
He nodded smiling ”Okay.“
And then he was off again, running after the others.
But you sat back in your chair, taking a deep breath. Because as much as you wanted to put space between yourself and Jax, Abel was not apart of that distance, he shouldn’t feel bad because you broke up.
Gemma arrived at the school expecting to see her Grandson outside like always. She didn’t spot him so she asked one of the teachers
”Where’s Abel Teller? Supposed to pick him up.“
The teacher nodded
”Oh, he’s in Miss Y/L/N’s classroom. He wanted to stay there.“
Gemmas eyebrows lifted, Interesting.
She walked down the Hall, peeking through the open door.
Abel sat beside you, happily drawing while you were grading papers.
You looked comfortable together, like this was normal. And she supposed it was.
”Well, ain’t this sweet.“ She announced herself
”Oh, Hello. I- Abel just wanted to stay inside today. I hope that’s okay.“ You quickly said afraid that you overstepped
”That boy’s got good taste in company.“ She waved a hand dismissvely.
”Come on, get your stuff.“ Gemma told her grandson.
Once Abel was out of earshot you turned to Gemma. ”He asked to sit with you today?“ She asked.
You nodded, letting out a soft laugh that didn’t reach your eyes
”Yeah, guess he still thinks I belong at his table.“
Gemma caught the way you fidgeted with the papers on your table.
”Kid’s got good instincts.“ She watched you swallow, looking away for a moment.
”He also… He asked when I was coming over again.“ You added, Gemmas brows lifted
”What’d you tell him?“
You let out a sigh ”Didn’t knew what to say. Didn’t want to hurt him.“
She studied you for a moment. The tiredness in your face, your smile that wasn’t as bright as it used to be every time she saw you.
”Abel asked about her today.“
Jax stiffened, before answering
”He askin’ a lot?“
”Enough,“ Gemma replied ”Enough to sit his little ass down in her classroom just to be near her.“
Jax rubbed a hand down his face, Fuck.
”Wanted to skip Lunch to sit in her class. Found them together, she was grading papers while he sat next to her, drawing.“
Jax looked down
”Know what else?“ His mother continued ”He asked her when she was coming over again.“
Still nothing from Jax except a deep exhale and a locked jaw
”She didn’t know what to tell him,“ Gemma continued, watching him. ”You’re not just hurtin’ yourself, Jackson.“ Gemma muttered ”You’re hurtin’ that boy. And you’re hurtin’ her.“ She waited a beat before getting up, as she was leaving she said ”So you better be damn sure this is what you want.“
And shit, he already knew this isn’t what he wanted. But wanting didn’t change facts. It never did.
Jax had tried. Now that he was single again there were women trying to get his attention. Especially at the club. And he had gone to the backroom with them, just to shut his brain off. It had worked before after other break ups. But the minute she started kissing him, touching him it just felt wrong. Her scent was wrong, her touch was wrong. It did the opposite of shutting his brain off, it made him realize how you were supposed to be the only one to touch him like that.
After that night he didn’t even entertain the girls at the clubhouse anymore. Even the guys noticed. Jax was constantly in a bad mood.
They watched Jax sit grumpy at the bar, slamming down his beer bottle.
”Jesus, man. You’ve been in a mood for weeks. Gonna tell us what’s eating you or should we just keep dodging the bullets?“
Tig said one night.
Jax just shook his head ”Ain’t got shit to say.“
Bobby leaned back in his chair, studying him for a moment
”Funny, cause last time I checked you were actually in a good place for once and now? You’re a goddamn storm.“
”Maybe I just got a lot on my plate at the moment.“ Jax gritted out
”Or maybe you lost somethin‘ you didn’t wanna lose.“ Opie, who had been quiet until now, spoke up.
Jax jaws tightened, he pushed off the bar while grabbing his beer
”Drop it.“.
The guys exchanged looks but knew better than to push further. They all knew what this was about anyway, or rather who it was about. And they knew Jax Teller was miserable.
You were just grabbing some essentials at the grocery store after work. You turned a corner into the next isle and spotted Opie standing in front of a shelf. You stopped as he looked up at you.
You both paused for a second, both surprised. It’s been months since you saw him last.
”Hey.“ he said easy, kind but knowing.
You smiled a little unsure but genuine, ”Hi Opie.“
You talked a bit, just small talk, about his kids, your work, light stuff.
But Opie’s perceptive and Jax was always important to him so when he asked ”How you been?“ you knew he was asking about more than just your job.
You hesitated for a moment before answering
”I’m okay.“
Opie gave you a look that said 'are you?‘ but instead he shifted slightly, scratching his beard before offering ”Jax has been a miserable asshole.“
It was supposed to be lighthearted but it made your chest tighten. You looked down, Opie’s eyes following yours, but instead he spotted the items in your basket. The coffee in your basket, the same brand Jax always had in his house.
”You still think about him.“ it wasn’t a question.
You let out a breath, a soft, almost self deprecating chuckle ”Of course I do.“
He nodded. That’s what he expected you to say. He didn’t gave advice but he offered a small smile.
”Take care of yourself, alright.“
Jax came home from a long day at the club, just waiting to crawl into bed and forget about everything in his sleep for a few hours.
He pulled back the sheets and there it was. A simple black hair tie, caught in the fabric. He felt like the air got knocked out of his lungs and for a moment all he could do was stare at it.
The memories rushing back, the way he pulled the hair tie off just to play with your hair, the way you pulled your hair up in the mornings while making coffee.
Jax swallowed hard, picking it up, running it between his fingers. Then without thinking he slipped it around his wrist. It stayed there after that. A quiet reminder. A piece of you with him, even when you’re gone.
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summary: when your dog introduced you to your new next door neighbor, you hadn't known just how much you'd be adoring him months later.
-> neighbor!sirius black x gn!reader, fluff, boy next door trope, your dog's name is lady (you can't even tell its a reference from a movie, i swear), word count: 1,308

About two months ago, you came back home from work, and got introduced to your new next door neighbor. It hadn’t been a while since your previous one moved out, but it was still quite exciting to see a fresh new face in your apartment building.
You had turned your key, opening your door, when Lady, your dog, had suddenly bolted out. Now, she’s never done that until then. She does get intense zoomies every morning, and whenever she greets you. But she has never been the one to rush outside when you open the door.
In a panic, you turned, preparing to chase her, when you saw her trying to jump into a stranger’s arms—who, if you may say so, was very pretty. He was tall, had long black curls, a smooth and charming voice as he knelt down to coo at your dog. And you couldn’t help but notice the rings that adorned his hands.
But that’s all you could allow yourself to admire before remembering that a stranger was carrying your dog, And you can’t let that be, no matter how attractive he is.
“Excuse me.” You said, his grey eyes looked up at you immediately, and you swore you felt your knees wobble. “I’m sorry, but that’s my dog.” You glanced at Lady, who seemed to be enjoying the way she’s being coddled by the lovely stranger. The betrayal.
Eventually, he apologized but later on introduced himself as Sirius. You learned that he’s going to be residing in the apartment next to you. And he couldn’t have been more sweet and charming.
From then on, your days have gotten a bit more interesting. Whenever you went out with Lady, to go for a walk or to have her accompany you while you’re grocery shopping, she would always stop by Sirius’ door and whine—her way of letting him know about her presence—before he would open the door and greet her. You would always end up chatting with each other then, as Lady kept you both company.
You learned quite a lot about Sirius. But what surprised you the most, is that he actually used to foster Lady’s mother and her puppies, alongside his friends. Which explains why your dog seems so very keen on him.
It's a small world, you thought. Lily, one of your work friends, had given you Lady as a gift before you moved into your apartment. And, apparently, she’s also one of Sirius’ good friends. Now you’re wondering, if you hadn’t agreed to adopting Lady, would you even be talking to Sirius now?

Today you woke up to the feeling of Lady pawing at your arm. You open your eyes and you’re immediately greeted by the harsh rays of the sun. You curse yourself for forgetting to set an alarm, as you check your clock by your bedside to see that it's already nine in the morning. It's a good thing today's weekend.
You sit up and Lady immediately jumps on your bed, licking your hand. Which is probably her saying she wants food, but you like to think she’s giving you good morning kisses too.
After a minute of letting your mind process that you have woken up, you stand up and make your way to the kitchen. You feed Lady her breakfast first, then proceed to make yourself one.
Having Lady for almost a year has its perks. She’s a very smart girl and you easily trained her to help you with closing and opening drawers in the kitchen. Although, sometimes, she does use it to her own expense—like opening the bottom drawer where you store her treats.

A couple of minutes later, you step out of your shower. Lady is patiently waiting for you by the other side of the curtain, when you hear a knock on your door. She perks up by the sound of it, and runs out. You follow her, changing into your clothes quickly. and just as you’re about to take a look at the peephole—You hear Sirius’ voice. “Hey, I hope you don’t mind but I have something for you.” He says, you share a curious look with Lady, before opening the door slightly.
You peek behind your door, head popping out which seems to amuse Sirius. He smiles at you and raises the small paper bag he’s holding. “There you are, love. My band had a late gig last night. And I stopped by a bake shop early this morning when I remembered you were craving this.” He extends it out to you, sure and all, proud of his own efforts. You can’t help but return his smile, grabbing the paper bag. It smells strongly of cinnamon, and the bottom of the bag still feels a little warm, much like your cheeks at the moment. “Thank you, do you want to come in?” You step back, opening the door wider, which Lady seems to take as an opportunity to start demanding Sirius of her own sweet treat.
“Alright, sweet girl, I have something for you as well.” Sirius steps inside and you close the door behind him. As he brings Lady with him to your couch, you take a look inside the bag to see two cinnamon rolls.
You remember walking at the dog park with Sirius the other day. Lady was really eager to have him come—to which he agreed almost immediately—and you ended up on the topic of desserts. You mentioned loving the cinnamon rolls your mother used to bake for you. Then you realized you haven’t had one in a while, and ended with the conclusion that you wanted some. But you didn’t expect for Sirius to take note of that and actually buy you some. Still, it's very sweet of him. If he’s trying to win you, then you might just consider his propaganda worth falling for.

“Are you doing something later in the evening?” Sirius is halfway out the door when he turns around to ask you. You shake your head at his question, then he leans on your doorway. “I was thinking..” He mumbles, obviously stalling, it's his way of stealing more of your time. You weren't aware of it at first, but when you did notice, it started happening more often. And it never fails to amuse you.
“Can I take you out to dinner later?” He asks.
“Sure, should I dress up?” It's not the first time Sirius has invited you to go out with him. You’re both a frequent customer at the diner nearby, and that says a lot about how much time you spend with each other. “You can wear anything you want. I don't mind.” Sirius steps closer to you. “I do want you to know that it's going to be a date. So if you want to change your mind, that’s totally fine.”
You're taken back, but you’re not at all changing your mind. There’s nothing about Sirius that would make you think so. “I’m not changing my mind, Sirius, I want to go to dinner with you.” You hold his hands, smiling at him reassuringly. Lady sits in between you both, sensing the cheery atmosphere. And perhaps offering her silent support.
“You’re sure? That’s final?” You nod your head, and he seems genuinely happy that it makes your ache, in a good way.
“I’ll be back later, to pick you up.”
“Wait, I really should dress up nice then.”
“I don't think that’ll be necessary, love. You look good in anything.” You roll your eyes at him, fondly, before slowly pushing him out of your doorway. “I'm telling the truth! Wear what you want, I can fight.” He adds.
“You're not helping at all.” You fight back a grin. He's going to be the death of you, truthfully.

marauders era masterlist ꩜ .ᐟ
#sirius black#sirius black x y/n#sirius black x you#sirius black one shot#sirius black x reader#sirius black fanfiction#marauders#marauders x you#marauders x reader#marauders oneshot#marauders drabble#marauders fanfiction#🌺 ᝰ.ᐟ marauders
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From time to time I see notifications with likes of my not quite au with rsa!mobs. Also considering that I liked Neigh from the very beginning and wrote fics about him, one idea came up. I will regret it very much, very much, but..
As if, now my old-new impression of the characters is like this.
Here they are from left to right:
Aro, - we'll leave the names as they were originally intended, in order to honor of the original author - the quietest and most suspicious of the three. You're walking down the street, there he is. You went into the store to buy some groceries, he's standing in front of the checkout. You went jogging in the woods, and there he is, too.
His image plays into his hands as many times as it takes. At some point, you notice him in the distance or, on the contrary, very close, it doesn't matter, and you begin to consider him part of the background. Who are you to bother him, right?
A huge miscalculation on your part. Because when he actually approaches you to talk for the first time - for any reason - you won't suspect anything strange. Hell, you've known each other for so long. Even if for most of this "time" he simply existed. He's become so integral to your life that it's strange to go shopping without seeing at least the top of his head.
His constant sleepiness completes the picture. You can't help but worry about him, because he could be anywhere at any time. Not everyone around you is as kind or understanding as you.
He's not like all the other boys around you. He doesn't get into fights, he's not rude - he rarely speaks, to be honest - he's a model child and student. If there was an award called "Any Teacher's Dream", he would be in nominating hall as well.
He always listens, no matter what nonsense or stupidity you ask. You were talking about the lifestyle of snowy owls, so why did you stop? Aro doesn't mind if you lecture him about these birds, even if it started an hour ago and it's past midnight now.
As soon as he confesses, you… what are you? It's like he's become such permanent part of your life that you have been dating for a long time. You call him for help. You share with him very first breaking news. You ask him for advice. At some point, you have to wonder if you even had any friends before Aro came along.
Silver or Quicksilver, he is that very child who grew up on fairy tales about brave knights who slaying dragons and rescuing princesses. The very one who will come to sing you a serenade under your window and will dodge flying pillows of awakened ghosts along the way.
The one who will be watching you from the far end of the street, on the opposite side, and when you give in and come over to clear things up, he will drop to one knee and propose marriage right then and there. Ignoring your completely unimpressed gaze, he will look at you with his glowing, childlike eyes.
Getting rid of him is some miracle, no doubt, but you return to the dorm, and there is a pair of white doves with a wreath waiting by the door. Where did he even find them? Are there any companies that provide services of specially trained birds that deliver boxes? What do you mean, there is a whole dovecote of them in the RSA? What do you mean, you will receive flowers and gifts regardless of whether you want them or not?
As soon as you give up on trying to appeal to his working brain cells - you have already convinced yourself that he does not have any - he will jump up and start apologizing for his behavior, simultaneously adding compliments to you in his speech. At some point, you come to terms with the fact that the whole street is watching the unfolding scene. No, you are not filming a teen drama. No, you are seeing him for the first time in your life. No, he is not crazy… although, perhaps, people are right about that.
Rubbing the bridge of your nose, you slowly resigned yourself to the idea of turning your dorm into a flower shop. The other students began to run away when they saw you in the hallway, as you handed out flowers to everyone you met. When you ran out of people, you went around for a second round. Then a third...
Good luck trying to explain to this RSA prince, one of the RSA princes, that things don't work like that. As you left with another bouquet, you mentally figured out who you could give it to.
Raven. A fine, well-mannered young man. He never raises his voice, always lends a helping hand to those in need. Wait, why does he have such a sly, suspicious look? If you ask him directly, he will put on an innocent expression and ask in response, “Aren't you imagining things?”
No, you're not. You are more than sure that you have seen the way he looks at RSA-Silver when he thinks that no one is watching. Your compass, magnetized by all the overblots and other NRC students, works like a clock for such things. You will not let his pretty face fool you.
Exactly, but now you are sitting in a cafe and discussing… what were you discussing?.. He has a mysterious ability to bring arguments in the most neglected cases and convince you to do what you initially did not want. After two minutes of conversation, you no longer remembered your complaints about him, as if they had not existed in the first place. All problematic issues are listened to and turn into such trifles that it is worth considering whether you were dissatisfied with something.
He is attentive, always noticing the smallest changes and reading your mood like an open book. You were thirsty, so he hands you a bottle of water. You were thinking about something sweet, what a coincidence, he has some of your favorite candies in his pocket. You seemed to want to eat a certain cuisine, and during lunch he asks if you would like to visit a cafe where it is served.
At some point, everyone starts considering you a couple long before you hear him confess. It's exactly as you wanted it, as well as it completes the picture perfectly. You tried to refuse, but the same thing happens. He turns all your negatives about the relationship into reasons why you should say yes. This doesn't obligate you to anything. You are mature understanding individuals who are taking closer look at each other. Dating someone doesn't mean that you have to spend your whole life together.
However, you get the idea that it will be impossible to break up with him.
#I'll warn you right away I have no desire to return to that series.#I don't remember at all how I wanted to finish or how to develop story etc#by the way you know where to find everything right...#tenshi talk#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#disney twisted wonderland#yandere twisted wonderland#rsa mob#rsa twst#rsa x reader#rsa oc#twst rsa#rsa!mob#yandere male#yandere male x reader
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Rio x Reader (YOU SAVE HIS LIFE) Part 3
You woke up lying on your stomach and the blanket over your back, covering your naked body. You reached out to touch Rio but all you found was a cold and empty bed.
He had been gone for awhile.
You opened your eyes and shifted up in bed before letting out a yawn. You felt disappointed he wasn't in bed with you and most likely left the apartment but you shrugged off the feeling and started listing off the things you had to do today...
Take a shower, clean the house, go to the grocery store... Make a grocery list. It feels weird not working. Rio says you don't have to and being gone for over two months means you don't have a job anyway. One day, he gave you a card and told you to go nuts with it. Anything you wanted. But you mainly use it for necessities, you feel bad using it for anything else.
Just as you were going to get out of bed the door opened and Rio stepped inside. He smiled at you, "Hey mama." He says before walking over to you and kissing your head. "I have to go out today. I'm seeing my son." Rio says to you. You smile at him and nod... You completely forgot he had a son. Rio walks over to his side of the bed and grabs the airplane he had been working on for the last two months that was sitting on the nightstand.
"I won't be home until late." He says while shuffling through the drawer in the nightstand. "Why?" You ask while running your fingers through your messy hair. He didn't answer, which was odd. He always answered your question. You turned to look at him and saw him stuffing something into his pocket. You got a glance at it and you recognized it as the bullets you took out of him when he got shot by Beth... Beth...
"Are you seeing Beth?"
He didn't answer again, he just sighed deeply. "Rio-" "Does it matter?" You narrow your eyes. "Yeah... It matters." You say. He sighs again but decides to ignore you for now. He walks over to your side of the bed cups your face and kisses your lips slowly and sensually for a few seconds before he pulls back, "I'll see you later baby, okay?" He then moves away from the bed and heads towards the door. He opens it before freezing and looking at you, "Don't be upset. I'll make it up to you. Okay?" He says. You nodded and gave him a small smile before he left the room.
Your day went by smoothly... Other than the lingering thought of Beth in the back of your mind.
And he did in fact come home late. You didn't hear him come home until 3AM. You heard him rustle through the kitchen before making his way to the bedroom. You were pretending to be asleep and facing away from the door when he entered. You heard him shuffling around before he got into bed. But he did something that he never did... He wrapped his arms around your torso and pulled your back against his chest. He buries his face into your shoulder and takes in your scent.
You were confused... Was something wrong?
"I know you're awake..." He mumbles into your neck.
You still don't say anything. You were just confused. He sighs deeply against you and holds you tighter. Yeah... There was something definitely wrong. "What's wrong?" You ask. No answer. After a few seconds, you decide to repeat yourself.
"Rio-" "Beth's pregnant."
Your heart stopped and your breath got caught in your throat. You knew they had slept together a few times as Beth told you when you were a part of her group. You knew she wasn't dead as he doesn't hurt children or pregnant women. You knew that. But... What now? Does this change anything? Is it Rio's or her husband's? Your mind was racing and your heart was pounding.
"If this is a deal breaker I-" "No." You don't even let him finish his sentence. It was insane to for him to even think that... Then it hit you. He was hugging you in bed because he felt like it was the last time he'd be able to hold you...
You shake your head before turning your head to the side to look at him. "Why would you even think that?" You ask. "Though it would be a dealbreaker..." He mumbles. "You think her being pregnant is a dealbreaker but not you killing her?" You say before letting out a chuckle. You turn your body around so you are facing him, "I'm assuming you're a possible father..." You ask. He nods slowly.
"But she's full of it." He says with contempt in his voice. "Once she gets an ultrasound I'll end it." He says. "You think she's lying?" "I know she is." He says. His thumb rubs circles into your hip giving you a fluttery feeling in your chest.
He moves the hand on your hip to brush the hair on your face behind your ear. "But... Let's ignore that now. I want to spend time with my girl." He says before pulling you into a tight embrace. You enjoy how he held you as he usually didn't in bed, it made you feel safe and comforted. Even after you had sex he didn't cuddle much. He let you rest your cheek on his chest and he had his arm loosely around you but that was it. He just wasn't a cuddly type of man.
But... Maybe this changed him because he...
Liked it.
He actually liked it. He even felt himself dozing off as he held you. He even felt comforted with you in his arms. You were changing him...
Maybe even for the better.
PART 4?
#rio good girls#rio x reader#rio x you#rio#rio good girls x you#rio good girls x reader#fanfic#fanfiction
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Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: angst, seriously it's just angst, alcohol, mentions of anxiety and trauma, sort of implied toxic relationship, breakup, sad, depression, jealousy A/N: I'm so sorry for this :) Tag List: @pixelcafe-network, @actuallysaiyan, @helloiamadrawer, @satorustar, @sweet-chocolate-sweet
You knew deep down that breaking up had been for the best, or at least you’d believed Aizawa when he said it was for the best. Aizawa was still trying to overcome his trauma, and you're no walk in the park to live with either. Stubborn and moody on the best of days, paralyzed with anxiety on the worst of days. You knew it took him some patience at times to navigate life with you, but he wasn’t a walk in the park either. You thought you were each other’s person until he asked for space. You gave it in hopes he would eventually realize that he needs you.
It had helped you along the healing process when you believed he was as miserable as you. You took comfort in the image of him curled up in bed, mourning the scent of your perfume fading from the pillow. At the very least, it made you feel less pathetic for still sleeping in his shirt every night and refusing to wash it because he'd no longer be lingering in the stitches.
You were fine, truly. Most days you only cried a couple of times, and you hardly ever typed up a text you'd never send anymore. At least not when you're sober. The things you’d never sent while knee-deep in a bottle of wine, well that’s a different story. It ranged from “I miss you so bad” to “Why don’t you love me anymore?” but you never sent them, and that’s what matters.
"I'm on the path to healing. thank you very much,” you'd bragged to your friends over dinner. You meant it! Things were really starting to fall into place.
Until it wasn’t anymore.
All it took was one event to have your healing facade crashing down faster than you built it up. He didn't even like selfies, that's what he told you over and over. He would scoff and cover his face every time you tried to lean in to catch a snap of the two OF you together. More than once he went on a half-hearted rant about ‘living in the moment’ instead of stopping to photograph everything. You only have a handful of photos to prove that you didn't hallucinate a five-year relationship.
Yet there he is on your timeline, snuggled up to a pretty girl who called him ‘baby' in the caption. His arm is wrapped around her. He's leaning in...He's smiling.
Fuck, you love his smile. It was such a rare sight when he belonged to you. You wonder what this girl has that you didn’t.
Later that night, you and your roommate split a bottle of wine.
"I hope he thinks of me when he fucks her," you ranted to your roommate.
You were pacing the living room like a caged tiger. A caged, drunk tiger anyway. You were angry. How could he? What right does he have to be happy when you still whisper his name when you make yourself cum?
"I'm going to call him!"
Your roommate thankfully finds your phone before you do. She swipes it OFF the coffee table while you're digging around in your pockets.
"Nope, that is a horrible idea," she says.
"Why? Don't I deserve answers? Closure?" you sit beside her on the couch. Your puppy eyes were almost enough for her to change her mind, but she didn't.
"Of course you do, but not like this."
After your ranting and raving becomes sleepy, your roommate — No...your hero — tucks you into bed. She covers you up with a soft blanket and pushes your hair off your face.
"Do you think he misses me?" you whine. "I want him to miss me.”
"He'd be stupid not to miss you,” she says, too kind to break your delusions for now, “Get some sleep."
~
It felt like your heart was ripped out. Seeing a stupid selfie was one thing. Being face-to-face with the happy couple in the produce section of your favorite grocery store is another rotten thing entirely. Aizawa doesn't even live in this neighborhood. You can’t fathom why he’d decide to date someone from the same neighborhood as you.
You're frozen to the spot. Your nails dug into the fragile flesh of the peach you were testing for ripeness moments before your worst nightmare came true. Aizawa doesn't notice you but, to your surprise, she does. Her smile falters and she quickly looks away as if making eye contact with you was painful for her. It was odd to see. You want to look away too, but seeing them is like watching a car crash. No matter how badly you want to look away, you just can’t.
"Oh, hello," Aizawa says when you finally shift into his line of sight.
"Hi," you fake a smile. You were hoping maybe you’d be able to seem genuinely unphased.
It’s hard to be unphased when he doesn't have to fake a smile. His smile is real and you know she’s the reason for it.
You clear your throat, "How are you?"
"I'm good. Uh, this is my girlfriend, Ami."
"Nice to meet you." you lie for the sake of friendliness but refuse to shake hands.
"I've heard so much about you." Ami says. "About your hero work, of course!"
“Right, of course. Thanks."
“We should get going, babe," he says and places his hand on her back.
Babe? When did he become a guy who said something like 'babe'. It makes your stomach turn as you walk away. You used to make fun of people who said ‘babe’ together.
"Why was I not enough for you?" you text him that night. Your eyes are so blurry with tears that you don't even think you could read his response. Not that he will ever respond, you figure.
You roll onto you side, letting the tears flow from your eyes into the pillow. You clutch on tightly to the fluffy teddy bear he’d bought you for the last birthday you’d spent together.
"Don't do this," he texts back
.You drop your phone onto the bed, and you bury your face against your teddy bear. The muffled scream you let out is full of pain. You still love him. You know you shouldn't, but you want him back. You can taste him on your lips still.
“Why? Because it's not on your time? Because you're not in control?" you text back.
"No! Because you're being emotional again.”
“Again? God forbid I have feelings.”
Aizawa was always so controlled. It was infuriating to know that no matter what you say you will never get under his skin the way you want to. He doesn’t respond for the longest time, and you decide to try once again to get to him.
“Of course I'm emotional. I fucking love you."
When he doesn't respond, you get the message. There's nothing else to say. He's over you, or he wants to be. All you can do is pick up the pieces.
#🌸.writes#aizawa shouta x reader#aizawa x reader#aizawa shouta#aizawa bnha x reader#aizawa mha x reader#eraserhead x reader
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For a Rainy Day
Mushy May 2025 — nesting. Phantom adapts intuitively to life on the road.
Characters: Phantom, Dewdrop Words: 750ish
tour bus lore, spiritual sequel to the rest stop pickle incident
Mushy May prompts by @forlorn-crows 🖤
Read below or on AO3
It’s become routine to stop by a nearby store most days before the show, just to pick up some odds and ends. While the production is certainly large enough these days that they could request some lowly member of the venue staff to find them whatever they want, there’s something about the normality of walking around a fluorescent-lit retail oasis that feels good when they’re away from home for weeks at a time. Plus, it’s nice to spend some time out and about, even on a dreary afternoon like today.
They’re a party of three this time — Rain just wants to look around, but Dewdrop has tasked himself with topping up their communal snack stockpile, and Phantom said he needed something, though he didn’t say what. As they pass by the home goods section on their way to the chip aisle, Phantom wordlessly splits off from the group. When he rejoins them in the candy aisle, he’s carrying a fuzzy fleece blanket.
Dew looks up from the licorice selection — always a a disappointment in this part of the world, why does he bother — and watches him pick up a bag of gummy bears. “I swear you bought a blanket last time we went to the store, too.”
“Okay. And?” Phantom’s eyes scan over the text on the back of the package in his hand.
“How many blankets do you even have?”
“One fewer than I need, I think. That’s why I’m getting this one.” He lifts the bundle of fabric as much as he can with it tucked in one arm.
Dew narrows his eyes. The image of him holding a blanket this way, in the middle of a grocery aisle, is strikingly familiar.
“Why is the green flavor always apple,” Phantom mutters. He puts the gummy bears back.
Upon their return to the bus, Dew loads his all purchases into the messy kitchen cabinet, save for one small bag of sour watermelon slices that he plans to hide away for himself. In the bunk compartment, Phantom is leaning into his bunk and busily rummaging around in one corner of it. A plasticky crinkle and a purple glow are emanating from within.
“What do you even have in here?” Dew pulls back the curtain, all the way to the foot of the bunk.
“Hey!” Phantom glances up over his shoulder, but quickly looks back to what he’s doing.
This may be the first time Dew has really seen inside Phantom’s bunk, more than just a quick glimpse. The string of purple lights taped around the perimeter of the far wall, he was expecting; the rest of it, not so much. There are at least four different blankets in various states of foldedness. A diversity of plushies, ranging from a small bat that someone threw onto the stage to a large creature so extremely round and unnaturally colored that it’s unidentifiable, are lined up on one side. A small battery-operated fan, no bigger than the palm of his hand, is mounted near his two pillows. There are even pictures taped to the wall — Dew spots himself in one of them, scowling facetiously next to a beaming Phantom who must have been trying to take a selfie with him.
“What’s that?” Dew points to where Phantom’s hand is tucked into the corner, digging around between the wall and the mattress.
“What’s what?”
“What are you doing right now?”
“Oh.” He pulls out a family size package of oreos in a vibrant blue plastic sleeve — the source of the crinkling. “Snack corner.”
“That’s crazy.”
“No it’s not!” He points at the bag in Dew’s hand. “You put food in your bunk too!”
“I— This?” Dew holds up his bag of candy. “No, come on. Look at the size difference.” He holds the bag up to the oreo package. It’s less than half the area of the front side, and a fraction of the thickness.
He frowns. “Why does that matter?”
“Because keeping enough cookies to sustain a family of five in your tiny bedroom is— it’s obscene.”
“I would share them with you if you wanted,” he says, with a completely earnest expression on his face. He holds out the package.
Dew wrinkles his nose. “I’m good. But thank you.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.” He leans into his bunk again and stuffs them next to the mattress, making that same crinkling noise. There’s clearly other packages in there too, unseen but loud.
Maybe he has real licorice in there — it wouldn’t hurt to ask.
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Spoilers for fantasy high read at your own risk
-------
I wanna see Fig find out about all the shit Bobby Dawn and how it personally affected her mom. Like I don't think Sandra Lynn would ever tell Fig about that. At least she would tell-if pushed the softest version of what she went through. Probably chalk it up 'yeah well... It was a really difficult time. I made my bed and that's where I got to stay for awhile. It was a mistake and I learned from it." But she's clearly doing that thing where she doesn't want to be too open or too vulnerable because all that shit happened in the past right? It doesn't matter now and she shouldn't make her daughter feel bad for HER own mistakes. It's just a thing that happened.
I feel like Sandra Lynn wouldn't tell Jawbone. Or maybe do that thing where she just says a lil bit to give him an idea but she doesn't tell the full story. He'd know though. He's been through some shit of his own and he would definitely have an idea.
I like to imagine it happens so organically.
Like Bobby Dawn returns to town. He's done nothing wrong. He's just doing a little shopping and he runs into Sandra Lyn while at fantasy grocery store. Fig and Kristen are probably there Figs looking at pre ripped jeans and Kristen is probably trying to convince Sandra Lynn to pick up a huge thing of protein powder. They don't need it they still have half a tub of that nasty shit at the manor.
Sandra Lynn sees Bobby Dawn as he comes around a corner. Probably got milk or bread. Maybe both? He's a white conservative so I soupy his grocery list is super complicated. Maybe eggs if he's feeling the light of Helios blessing. Anyway they stare at one another for a moment but he smiles first. Sandra Lynn turns away and grabs something off the shelf.
Bobby Dawn can't let it go. He must say something. All he has to say to get under her skin is just a simple hello. And she's shrinking into herself.
Kristen puts herself between Sandra Lynn and Bobby and also says hello. She didn't think he'd be coming back to town anytime soon. And he agrees. It's not his job to know everything, only to follow under Helios light.
Fig is baffled. Her mom is such a force of nature usually but now she's so...quiet? What the fuck??? Fig looks to to her mother who just focuses on the grocery list but her hands are shaking. Maybe with an unspoken rage or fear but it's not ..this is so weird.
Bobby's eyes don't meet Kristen. They are set on Sandra Lynn.
"I think it's so fascinating that you choose to continue living in broken homes."
Sandra Lynn does not react. She's in a store. She's buying milk and eggs and a shit ton of pork for a barbeque later and pool cleaner and a bag of coal and all this other stuff .. she can't.. she can't be.. she cannot just leave. She has shit to do and this asshole doesn't fucking matter anymore. Why won't he just leave?
I like to think Fig reacts before she even realizes what she does. It's not a spell or a punch and even Kristen has to kinda duck (fall honestly) out of the way to avoid being smacked upside the head with a bass guitar. It catches him in his stupid mouth and his glasses are flung nine isles over. Fuck this guy. Broken home? BROKEN?
"maybe shit has to break so it can be fixed and it comes back better than it ever was!" Fig wacks him again. He's prone. The man is pissed and scrambling to get away.
Kristen is like haha yeah fuck him up!
Sandra Lynn turns to see what the fuck Fig is doing and it's a lot. She feels like she's a failure because Fig should not be fighting her demons. None of this should be happening. She thinks about saying something like "you can't just beat up on people shopping" but she doesn't. Her mouth doesn't seem to be cooperating and her hands won't stop buzzing.
Kristen cast a zone of calm on Sandra Lynn and it helps sure but she's still so uncomfortable.
Bobby Dawn scrambles away and Fig absolutely chases after him but stops short when she gets to the threshold of the store only to scream obscenities and then come back to her mom who still seems so messed up?
They get the stuff they need and head home. Just this interaction has Sandra Lynn all discombobulated. She's having some thoughts and old memories she buried bubble up on loop. Her mind becomes a hellscape she just can't seem to escape from.
She remembers the bad things but worse than that she remembers the good things. When he was kind and kissed her cheek and ran his fingers through her hair telling her she was the most beautiful woman in the world and quite possibly the best ranger he's ever witnessed. She remembers snuggling up to his chest and whispering sweet nothings back and forth. She remembers sharing meals and making plans. She can't forget the first night she slept behind a dumpster. It's everything all at once. Good and bad and ugly.
Where the fuck is Baxter? Oh right. He's sleeping at the manor or playing tug of war with jawbone. (Jawbone lets him win all the time)
They get home and she's real quiet. Stuck in her head reliving memories and what not. Baxter goes to her and he knows he's glued to her side and she's in tears nearly..but not quite.
Jawbone asks what's up. Sandra Lynn says something about "It doesn't even matter I should feel like this anymore it happened so many, years ago. Everything's fine now. I have a home."
He makes tea. He sets his paw on her hand and let's her have the floor. She doesn't talk, he doesn't make her. They just sit there for awhile.
Fig talks. She's so pissed about that Bobby Dawn guy. How come he has this effect on her mom?? What the fuck? Kristen agrees but she's well aware of Bobby Dawn and his...less than stellar work in the church. It's a hard night.
Fig is a bitch on a mission now and Sandra Lynn won't talk but maybe Gilear will? She presses him. He's not quite the guy to spill other people's secrets but Fig feels like she has a right to know. So he tells what he knows. She's livid. Not at him tho and she reassures him of that.
I like to imagine that days go by and Sandra Lynn is still very much on edge. Like spacing out and accidentally dropping mugs or over filling her coffee cup. Just a mess. Adine is doing her best to follow her around subtly and just not really sure what she can do other than hover around. Fig can't be around to see her mom like that. It hurts so bad seeing someone so capable struggle to put the milk back in the fridge.
Sandra Lynn is so certain she can just push through this. She'll be fine. She's done it before.
Adine assures her that "They are gonna murder that guy so hard."
#d20 fantasy high#fantasy high#fig faeth#gilear faeth#kristen applebees#jawbone o'shaughnessey#sandra lynn faeth#adine abernant#bobby dawn
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I’m sorry, Kyouna.

Warnings: Mention of drugs, abuse, slight mention of depression, w*rk,self-harm, bed rotting.
Word’s count: 900-1000~ words.
Context: Kyouna Matsuri(Mustard) after being abandoned by his biological parents, was adopted by a drug addict and alcoholic guy who just adopted children for getting the aids the government give to people who adopt.
(Clarification: Mr Compress was/is his 2nd adoptive father)
• Touki(15) is the 2nd oldest brother from 6 children, Mustard(10) is the 2nd youngest.
Touki’s perspective:
Today it was a busy day.
I had to go out from my mid-time job earlier than expected because I forgot that today we had to pay the bills.
I stole a kid’s bike and drove as fast as I could for paying them with my last paycheck, the only money we had for paying bills. The rest of the money that came from the government’s aids was used for paying my “father’s”alcohol and drugs and the rest of the aids and my salary was for food.
After paying the bills I grabbed with me that kid’s bike, my youngest sister is 8. Idk if at this rate she liked bikes, I don’t even know if she knows how to ride them.
But that didn’t mind because I had just gotten fired.
“Touki Hashiwara, due your unjustified delays and not showing up to work without any justification, you have been fired from M&J supermarket chain. Your last paycheck will be sent on X/X/X. To submit a complain you can contact with…”
Then I stopped reading and sighed while looking at my phone, then kept walking.
With the rest of the money I had I went to get some groceries, while waiting paying a woman skipped the line, argued with her, but she still got to pay first.
When I went out from the store I almost couldn’t grab the groceries bags, (even if they weren’t even heavy and have just a few things, because that’s what my (old) salary can make at it’s maximum) but because the 6 hours of sleep weren’t enough anymore, and because trying to go to sleep was an horrible everyday task, just like it happens to every kid on the household.
But nobody does really care.
While walking home with the “heavy” bags I passed near the place where I used to buy my “father” his drugs, then was replaced by my 10 year old brother. Which I don’t know why he is more agile, smart and respected than I was. I guess those WWI movies did really help with something.
Then I stopped at the place. Because it isn’t just the place where my father buys his drugs, but it’s also the place which made me have my downfall but also helps me to cope and forget about everything,not just with what I am living but with what I have lived.
After deciding what should I do, I step in the place, ask for a man, I got told to get in a room and when I left I was carrying with me not just a great debt but some grams of cocaine and some marijuana too. Because at this point nothing did really matter anymore.
Before going in my home I smoke a few cigs of marijuana and then got in, hopping that the youngest ones wouldn’t notice.My oldest adoptive sibling is was too buried in his bed to even notice, maybe someday he will stop “rotting” just like he says.
I stepped out my shoes and sat on the couch that always creaked,located in the messy living room,next Kyouna, who was way too focused in the WWII movies that was being streamed on the TV for even greeting me.
— So how was your day? — I ask while leaving the groceries bags on the floor.
Then I got no answer.
— Kyouna?? — I repeat, this time looking at his face.
— You smoked marijuana again? — The kid asked me, still not looking at my face.
I sigh, and stop looking at him. — Well, yeah. I just wanted to say hi to some friends I made while being dad’s errands boy and… Got distracted. — I said while chuckling and started to scroll through my phone.
— …You should not be friend’s with Matsuo and Tsuome…— My brother added, his face going from focused to upset.
— And last time you had marijuana you tried hurting yourself. —
My smirk slowly disappeared when heard his words. It was true that happened, but it was also true that I was in other 3 different drugs plus alcohol.
Then I avoided the conversation.
— How was it while my absence??—
— Dad didn’t like the drugs, he said they were too weak and that tomorrow I must complain or he will slice my throat. — He explained unbothered, watching how a guy kissed a woman at the end of the movie, after Berlin collapsed.
I sighed.
—Did he do anything else??— I said while rummaging through the groceries bags, grabbing some chips.
Kyouna stayed silent.
After hearing how he went silent I turned my head to him.
— Did that bitch hit you again? —
— … Yeah — The movie finished and now some ads were on TV, not distracting Kyouna anymore.
— Show me where — With an annoyed face I left the chips aside.
Kyouna rolled up his sleeve, he had a really big bruise near his shoulder.
My eyes widened and lips parted, trying to transmit calm to Kyouna so he didn’t get more nervous, but it was being real difficult to me.
Then I massaged my temples and sighed again.
— Please don’t rot like Ren, I don’t want you all day in bed with any type of drug inside your body, please — Kyouna suddenly begged, making eye contact with me with widened eyes too. — Dad is everyday more scary, Touki-kun —
In that moment my mind became blank. I would have loved to promise Kyouna I wouldn’t take drugs anymore, I would have loved to take all those children in that hosehold out of there.
But I’m not just too weak for defending them but for defending me from myself.
— I’m sorry, Kyouna — After that, another movie started on the TV, it had some noisy music and cool graphics which quickly caught Kyouna’s attention. Then I just passed him the chip’s bag while I also watched the movie.
Just doing like everything didn’t happen
But then Hiroshi was killed three days after because kyouna didn’t bring drugs on time, and then my brother finally ran away.
I haven’t written so much in years, but I’m kinda happy with what I’ve got.
Repost, like and share, plz 🙂↕️
All rights reserved to @Sidneyj08
#mha#mustard fanfic#mustard mha#league of villains#mha rp#bnha#my villain academia#mha roleplay#bnha rp#roleplay#mustard#lov mustard#mustard bnha#bnha mustard#mha mustard#mustard fic#mha fic
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Haruhi, Haruhi, I just saw the most horrible thing! I was just posting photos of us to Instagram-- but Haruhi, you look so cute in them! Don't be mad at me, I just want everyone to see how cute you are...but I saw this video on Instagram, and Haruhi it was just awful! There was this ginger cat and he had a ginger cat wife-- well it was OBVIOUSLY his wife! They had rings and everything! Haruhi, they were cartoon cats, don't change the subject! But Haruhi, he went working all day at the cat offices-- yes, he has his own business and everything-- and she went to the gym and, Haruhi it was just awful! She had a (dramatic whisper) affair with her gym instructor-- Haruhi, I don't think "why are the cats at the gym" is the focus here! Perhaps cats too care about staying young and beautiful! What matters is this horrible story! And Haruhi, she becomes (covert glance around) with child. YES, KITTENS!!! And then, Haruhi, it was so awful, the cats are in the grocery store and she EXPLODES! Where did I-- Haruhi I saw it on INSTAGRAM, can you focus on my story! And they rush her to the hospital-- no it's not a VET-- and she has a kitten but the kitten isn't ginger, Haruhi, it's not even his kitten! And she EXPLODED! In the commoner cat grocery store! And and Haruhi stop laughing at me, the cat reminded me of Kyoya because he's always working too and Haruhi what if he DOES get married and then his wife has an AFFAIR and then EXPLODES! Wh-- I SAW IT ON INSTAGRAM, HARUHI
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Hello!! First of all, I found your account by accident scrolling in the lando tag and I'm obsessed!!!!! Love the way you write🫶🏻
I just read the older fic (loved it) and I thought if you can make one but the opposite where the reader is younger like 20 or something and people think that is controversial so she gets overwhelmed but lando is down bad, so he reassure her, you can add smut if you want, please and thank u 😚
Its not about what they say, its about what i chose - LN4🔥

Masterlist
summary: at twenty, you're grown — you know who you are, what you want, and most of all, who you want. but the public doesn't care. to them, you're too young for someone like lando. a child playing at love. and the comments start to get under your skin. until lando finds you spiraling — and decides it's time to remind you just how loved, seen, and owned you really are.
warnings: age gap (reader 20, lando 25), social media backlash, insecurity, soft dom!lando, emotional reassurance, explicit sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, breeding kink hints, possessive language, praise kink, crying during sex (emotional), very down bad lando
At first, you laughed it off. The comments. The DMs. The way people spat your age like a slur. "She's a baby." "She's not even legal in the US." "He's a man. She's a child." "What does a 25-year-old want with a 20-year-old?" "She's a phase. A rebound. He'll leave."
You knew it wasn't true. You knew. Lando had been yours since the second week. When he let you wear his hoodie to the Monaco grocery store and didn't even flinch when fans took pictures. When he drove you along the coastline and sang Taylor Swift at full volume without shame. When he kissed you like the world could burn if you asked.
But lately... it had started to stick.
You turned 20 and it felt like everyone turned on you. The media. Twitter. The WAGs. They didn't say it outright. But they looked. And when one of them leaned over at dinner and said, "I mean, you're only just out of your teens, right?" with a smile that wasn't a smile, you went quiet for the rest of the night.
You didn't tell Lando. Not at first. But he noticed. Of course he noticed.
You weren't touching him as much in public. You stayed behind during media walks. You stopped posting silly little videos of him dancing like a dork in his socks.
He knew the signs. He just didn't know why. Not until he found you on the balcony that night, phone in hand, scrolling, scrolling, scrolling.
You didn't hear him come out. But you heard his voice. "What are you reading?"
You jumped.
He was already there. Barefoot. Shirtless. Hair a mess.
You tried to smile. "Nothing."
He walked over. Took your phone. Scanned it. His jaw clenched. "Oh," he said quietly. "This bullshit again."
You looked down. "It's fine."
"No it's not."
You shrugged. "I'm not a kid," you said. "But that's all they see."
"They don't matter."
"But they make you look-" You swallowed. "Like a predator."
He turned your face to his, thumb under your chin.
"I chose you," he said, voice calm. "Not despite your age. Because of who you are. Because you make me laugh. Because you're smarter than most people I've ever met. Because you're mine."
You blinked.
"I love how excited you get when you talk about stupid shows. I love how chaotic your playlists are. I love how you call me old when I complain about my back. I love that you're twenty and already more grounded than half the people I know."
You looked away. "They don't care about any of that."
"No," he said. "But I do." Then he leaned in. Kissed you. Slow. Full. "You think you're too young?" he whispered. "Let me show you how fucking wrong they are."
He carried you inside. Didn't throw you down. Didn't strip you fast. Just kissed you until your knees gave out, then laid you on the bed like something holy.
"You're mine," he said, sliding your shorts down. "Say it."
"Yours."
"You're old enough to want this, right?"
"Yes."
"To beg for it?"
"Yes."
"To take it like a good girl?"
"Yes."
He kissed your thighs. Licked up your slit like he was tasting something sacred. "You're so wet," he muttered. "Is that 'cause of me?"
You nodded.
"Say it."
"It's you," you gasped. "It's always you."
He moaned into your cunt. Fingers curling inside you. Tongue circling your clit. He didn't stop until you came, shaking, legs clamped around his head.
He pulled back, wiped his mouth, and said, "You're not too young. You're perfect."
Then he slid inside. You cried out, not from pain. From relief. He fucked you slow. Deep. Worshipful. Every thrust a full-body confession.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered. "You hear me? I'm gonna put a ring on your finger and fuck a baby into you when you're ready and no one's opinion will fucking matter."
You choked. "Lando-"
He pressed a hand to your stomach. "Feel that? That's how deep I am. That's how much I want you."
You came again. Harder this time. Tears slipping down your cheeks. He kissed them away. Whispered, "good girl, that's it, I've got you."
When he finally came, it was with a moan of your name like a prayer. His face buried in your neck. His body shaking.
Later, when you were curled into his chest, he kissed your forehead and whispered, "They don't know you."
You didn't reply.
"You're everything I want. Exactly how you are."
You looked up. "Even at twenty?"
He smiled. "Especially at twenty."
#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#f1 fluff#f1 x reader#f1 smut#f1 grid x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#LN4#LN4 mcl#LN4 x reader#LN4 fic#LN4 imagine#mclaren#LN4 smut#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris smut#lando norris fic
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Hello Neighbor: Kept Secrets
By JJ
Summary: With Nicky missing, and no one around to help, it's up to Trinity and the rescue squad to investigate the neighbor and save their friend.
Chapter 5
"You think so too?"
His question surprised me. Does he also think that Mr. Peterson is the one who kidnapped Nicky? If so, why didn't he tell anyone? "What do you mean? Enzo, have you been..."
He nodded, "I've been secretly investigating Mr. Peterson. I didn't think anyone would believe me, or listen to me for that matter. But from the day we found out Nicky went missing, the police told us that they were going to investigate everywhere in Raven Brooks, and they obviously started with Friendly Court. But I found it very interesting how they've knocked on every single door on Friendly Court,..."
Enzo pulled a picture of Mr. Peterson's house and fence and handed it to me, "That is...every door, but one."
I nodded.
"Yeah.", he said. "At first, I thought it was just because of the fence. But Mr. Peterson must be into some pretty awful stuff if even the police won't check his house, and Mr. Peterson is doing everything he can to avoid them."
I stared at the picture for a while, then I smiled at my cute and nerdy boyfriend. "Ha! Well look at you, Mr. Detective.", I said flirtatiously. His face went red for a moment, but then he shook his head and we got back on track.
"But you thought Mr. Peterson was being suspicious too.", he said, I nodded. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I didn't want anyone to think I was crazy.", I replied.
"And I didn't tell anyone what I found, because I didn't want anyone to think I was crazy."
We stood there in silence for a moment.
We're out of the house faster than it felt like, and we didn't stop running until we were all the way to 910 Friendly Court, but we stopped in our tracks when we saw Mr. Peterson's red car driving off.
"Damn it!", I cursed, stomping my foot. But that quickly faded away when I ran to the fence door, and I struggled to open it. It didn't budge.
But it didn't have any padlocks on it or anything barding it shut. It's probably locked from the inside.
"Damn it!", I cursed again. "But Nicky's in there!"
"And the fence looks too high for either of us to climb, even if we stood on shoulders.", said Enzo. "But we can still follow Mr. Peterson. If we're going to prove to anyone that Mr. Peterson is the kidnapper, we need some definitive proof."
I nodded. "But he's driving, Enzo. How're we supposed to catch up with him?", I asked.
Then I spotted Nicky's red bike, leaning against his broken trellis. I ran to it, hopping on and waiting for Enzo to do the same. Then as soon as we were both on the bike, I peddled off, following Mr. Peterson as fast as I could.
We followed him to the Natural Grocer, I parked the bike behind the store, then we watched through the window at Mr. Peterson.
We didn't really see him buy anything suspicious. Just some lunch meat, bread, rice noodle, broccoli, carrots, tomato, and some spices. Nothing suspicious, just groceries.
"Unless he's planning on cooking Nicky into a meal, I don't see anything too suspicious about this.", said Enzo. I shushed him as I saw Mr. Peterson grab something that really caught my eye.
Chloroform and sleeping pills.
The rest of the items he put in his basket were very innocent, but this one definitely wasn't. He could definitely be using it to drug Nicky, I saw him use something like that in a syringe earlier.
We watched him leave the store, and we tip toed towards him, and the next place he walked into was Screw Loose Hardware Store.
We watched through the window at him again.
Like before, he didn't really grab anything too suspicious. Just a pic ax, some rope, a mallet, and a saw.
Nevermind, all of these things sound a little suspicious.
I tried to tell myself that these could all be very innocent items. After all, Mr. Peterson did like to build. He was a rollercoaster tycoon. I kept telling myself that,...up until he grabbed a bear trap off the shelf.
Now I knew that these were absolutely NOT innocent.
We watched him check out at the register, but not before he grabbed a drill from another shelf. Oh stop trying to cover it up, Peterson. We already know you're a criminal.
He drove off as soon as he got out of the store and into his car, and we biked after him.
We followed him home, and as he opened the fence, we slowly crouched down behind him, and tip toed inside. Making sure to be extra quiet so we wouldn't get caught.
"Are we seriously going to do what I think we're going to do?", Enzo whispered to me. I shushed him, and pulled him to a nearby bush as I saw Mr. Peterson's head turn around. I sighed in relief when I heard him walk inside and close the door behind him.
I turned to Enzo. "Yes, we're doing this. We need to save Nicky. And we can only know where he is if we search this house.", I said.
He nodded, and we walked quickly to the backyard.
As we were fully in the backyard, we saw an open window. I put my hands together, "Come on, I'll boost you up.", I said.
Enzo put his foot on my hands and climbed into the house, and hoisted me up into the house as well.
I looked around the room, and I felt like I was already familiar with it.
This was Aaron's room.
It was an absolute mess in here.
For one thing, it was cold, and there were broken toys and glass all over the floor. The bedsheets were completely messed up and ripped off the bed, and thrown to the floor.
"Someone's been having a temper tantrum in here.", I said.
We slowly walked out of the room, being careful to open the squeaking door. Then we walked all around the hallway, looking for a place where Nicky could be.
This place was a maze of doors. We were so lucky that this wasn't a horror movie type of hallway, where you open one door and you're out another. But this was just too weird.
We tip toed down the stairs once we learned we had no luck, being careful to watch out for the creaking parts.
Once we were down to the living room, the first thing I saw on a drawer next to the couch was a red key.
I walked to it and picked it up, "What could this be for?", I asked myself.
Then from behind me, I jumped out of my skin when I heard a door banging and shaking.
It was the door to the basement, and it had a shiny red padlock on it, holding it shut against whatever was banging against it.
Or whoever was banging against it.
"Do you think Nicky's in there?", Enzo asked.
"I don't know.", I said. I walked to the door and leaned against it, "Nicky, are you in here?", I whispered.
Instead of an answer like "yes" or "Trinity?", I got frightened mumblings instead.
"Let me out. Let me out. Please, Mr. Peterson. I have a family and friends out there, please let me out."
That was Nicky's voice.
I backed up in shock, dropping the key and putting a hand to my chest. "He's in there.", I breathed.
Enzo gripped my shoulders, gently rubbing them. He turned his gaze to the door. "Nicky, it's us. Trinity and Enzo.", he said.
"Let me out. Let me out. Let me out.", more scared rambling. Now we both were shocked.
What did Mr. Peterson do to our friend?
"D-Don't worry, Nicky. We'll get you out, just hold on.", I said. But just as I was picking up the key, we heard footsteps coming from the kitchen. And we instantly knew it was Mr. Peterson.
We ran from the door, hiding in a wardrobe that wasn't too far from it. As Mr. Peterson descended into the room, he looked around, then he stopped at the door. He examined the lock, and somehow wasn't pleased.
Then I remembered...
The red key I dropped on the floor.
He bent down and picked it up, gripping it in his hand, nearly growling.
"You dropped the key?!", Enzo whispered to me.
"I got scared!", I whispered back at him. Then I elbowed him in the ribs. "Be quiet! He'll hear us."
We both held our mouths, trying to steady our breathing.
Mr. Peterson smiled the most horrible smile I've ever seen. It wasn't a happy smile, it looked more forced than anything.
"Boys...", he started, "I can't keep playing this game with you.", he walked around the living room, grabbing whatever he got his hands on, and throwing it to the other side of the room. And every time he did that, me and Enzo nearly jumped.
Also, boys?
Who else was he hiding in this house? Apart from Nicky.
"You boys are so adorable. Thinking you can hide from me.", he growled, "But there is nowhere in this house where you can hide and I won't find you."
I gasped when he grabbed the back of a bookshelf, throwing it to the floor. Somehow, he seemed to hear it.
He quickly snapped his head up, and his gaze fell upon the wardrobe me and Enzo were hiding in.
Mr. Peterson still had that same creepy smile on his face, and he slowly walked towards the wardrobe, and pulled onto the handle.
Me and Enzo braces ourselves for the worse.
But just as Mr. Peterson was pulling open the wardrobe, we heard a loud hitting sound that sounded like someone broke a bone. Mr. Peterson let out a loud scream, falling backwards, holding his knee. Then I saw something hit him in the head, knocking him out completely.
Our savior opened the door, and I was absolutely taken aback by who it was.
Maritza.
"Come on!"
We sprint out of the wardrobe, jumping over Mr. Peterson and running out the front door.
I yanked the fence door open, running out as quickly as I could, Enzo and Maritza following close behind. We ran until we were all the way across the street.
Once we were at the Roth house patio, we flopped onto the porch stairs, letting out sighs of exhaustion and relief.
But that quickly passed.
"What the hell were you doing in there?", Enzo asked Maritza.
"Me? What about you, dork?!", Maritza shot back at her brother.
"None of your business.", he said. "But if you must know, sis, we were trying to rescue Nicky from Mr. Peterson's creepy basement. What's your excuse?"
I decided to end things before they get ugly.
"Guys, please.", I said. "Yes, Maritza. We were in his house, and we were trying to find Nicky. But I don't think it's just Nicky we have to save."
Maritza shook her head, "What're you talking about? Who else could be in there? Also, where's my thank you for saving you from Mr. Peterson's unhinged ass?"
Enzo rubbed his temple in frustration. I turned back to Maritza, "Thank you.", I said. She nodded and let me continue.
"If I'm being totally honest, I don't know who could be down there with Nicky...", I said.
...Then my mind flashed back to Nicky.
My mind flashed back to when Nicky was trying to convince us that Mr. Peterson was locking Aaron somewhere in his creepy house. That's how I knew that Aaron and Nicky were in the basement.
"Aaron...", I whispered.
I stood up and started walking down the street, and I soon heard Enzo and Maritza follow closely behind me.
"Aaron's in there."
I once again expected them to think I was crazy, but instead, they were kind of understanding.
"Is that where Aaron is?", Maritza asked. "Then why would Mr. Peterson lie about them going missing?"
"So he could avoid the cops.", said Enzo. "We're all aware of how crazy Mr. Peterson is, and it's surprising to see that he has children. But I'm sure that whatever he's doing with Aaron and Nicky in his basement, it's gotta be something that makes the police steer clear of him."
Me and Maritza nodded. Then I had the most craziest idea, "We have to get back into that house."
The two stared at me in shock.
Maritza nodded quickly, "Alright, what's the plan?", she asked.
Enzo on the other hand, wasn't too cool with that plan.
"Uh uh, absolutely not."
We turned to him.
"Why not?", I asked.
"Well for one thing, we nearly got killed by him.", he started. "And another thing, he's a dangerous psychopath who's locking kids in his basement, doing God knows what to them.", he gestured to Maritza. "And you're seriously thinking about bringing us in there with you! Including my little sister!"
Maritza slapped his hand away, then stomped towards her older brother. "She's not bringing me anywhere, Enzo. I'm volunteering. I want to save Nicky just as much as you guys do, and I literally saved you guys from nearly getting killed.", she said.
Enzo wanted to protest more, but Maritza wouldn't let him even finish a sentence.
"Look, I know it's hard for you to even think about the Petersons. Especially with the whole thing Mr. Peterson said to me.", she said, pausing for a moment when she saw Enzo's hand curl to a fist. She put a hand on his shoulder, "But none of that matters now. Right now, our friend is in danger, and we're the only ones who know that Mr. Peterson had something to do with his disappearance. Hell, he's holding him hostage right now."
She crossed her arms and gave Enzo a smug smile, "Besides, this may be a good chance for you to make it up to him. I may have been a jerk too, but you were an even bigger one."
Enzo would've tackled her to the ground if I wasn't holding him back.
"Enzo, please.", I said. "We were all jerks, and if we save him, we can all apologize and be friends again."
Enzo sighed once he knew there was no further argument. "But how? We're seriously going to just go in there? Just the 3 of us?", he said. "We may be more people than him, but he's still bigger and stronger than all of us combined."
Enzo did have a point. I rubbed my chin as I thought, "You're right...", I said. "We're going to need a bigger number."
Then I thought about a couple of other people who I thought would be the perfect candidates for this mission.
"And I know just who can help us."
#hello neighbor#hello neighbor: kept secrets#hello neighbor books#trinity bales#enzo esposito#maritza esposito#my fics#hello neighbor fanfic#theodore peterson
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