#and curlys end of life state

[natalievoncatte]

They didn’t know Alex was watching them.

She was the only one awake- Kelly was sleeping in near silence, her breath tickling Alex’s throat, as her head lay pillowed on Alex’s chest. After the reception had formally drawn to a close, the core group, the Superfriends, had all moved on to the sprawling mansion that Lena had generously rented for them to inhabit for a few days before Alex and Kelly left for their proper honeymoon.

Alex was the only one awake. They’d all be tired and hadn’t even finished the drunken game of monopoly they’d begun for old time’s sake. Kelly had changed out of her wedding dress and Alex out of her suit and they lay curled up on a loveseat beside the crackling fireplace. Nia and Brainy were in a similar state on the couch. Between them all, Kara’s little doggie monopoly piece remained where it had last landed on Park Place, forcing her to declare bankruptcy and, of course, end up ceding all her deeds to Lena.

The game was essentially over at that point and everyone knew it, so the drinking began to lubricate the passing of stories and telling of tales. A second buzz in the same day always hit harder than the first and everyone fell asleep where they sat, except Alex.

She had a sick terrible feeling in her stomach, not of regret surely, but a dread she had trouble explaining. It finally hit her as she watched the firelight dance across Kara’s features.

Something had changed. Something was over, a page turned to a new chapter. One where, Alex somehow knew, their lives would no longer revolve around alien insanities and mystical calamities. The world was settling, shuffling back to the state it was in before Kara caught that plane all those years ago and announced herself to the world.

A more normal time, calmer, changed perhaps in many ways but just… life.

Now that Alex was at the threshold with her toes curled back from it and unsure if she was ready to cross, she felt a little loss. Her future was looking less superheroic and more soccermometic; Kelly had her two-thirds of the way convinced to reactivate her medical license and join a practice. When everyone talked about their futures the sounded mundane, even Kara was more excited about her big new job and chasing her dreams.

Wait.

Alex was wrong. Kara was awake, she was just so utterly entranced that one might be misled into thinking that she was merely dreaming.

Kara and Lena somehow ended up in a wide chair together, curled up in a tangle of limbs, wrapped in Kara’s cape as a blanket. Lena was tucked in under Kara’s chin on Kara’s lap, clearly in a deep, peaceful sleep.

Kara, however, was very much awake. She held Lena in a particular way, at once shockingly gentle and fiercely protective, making a fortress of her arms. Kara was intently focused on her chair-mate, either staring at her with the most pitiful expression of fear and anxiety or nuzzling her nose into her dark curly locks and sighing.

Alex frowned, unsure what to do or say. Her sister looked pained, as pained as Alex had ever seen her. She knew for a fact that she and Lena weren’t fighting- they spent more time together than ever now; it had started with them effectively splitting their time between their respective apartments but over the last couple of months had shifted to Lena, for all intents and purposes, shacking up with Kara. They spent no more than one night in ten apart and of those nine they were together, eight seemed to be at the loft.

Whenever Alex set foot inside, Lena was simply there, for no special or particular reason, the two of them just sharing the same space casually and naturally.

So why did Kara look so broken?

“Hey, kiddo,” Alex whispered. “Why the long face?”

“I can’t talk about it now.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.”

“You guys didn’t have a fight or something, did you?”

Kara was quiet for a time.

“I think I waited too long.”

“For what?” said Alex.

“Don’t you know?”

Alex furrowed her brows, watching intently. Lena stirred, perhaps nudged towards consciousness a little by their murmured conversation and the urgency in Kara’s soft voice.

Then it hit her. Indeed, it struck her like a physical force. Kara looked down at Lena again and Alex gasped at the realization, wondering how the hell she had missed this, of all things.

She’s seen Kara smitten before, like she’d been with Kenny or the fuckboi from the dickhead planet. That was different. That was not this. Kara looked at Lena like she might not be able to breathe if she let her out of her sight.

Oh. Oh shit.

“We’re all moving on with our lives,” Kara whispered. “Taking new jobs, getting married, starting new careers. What happens when she’s too busy for me, Alex? When she finds somebody else and wants a real family and a real life and not… whatever we’re doing? What happens when…”

Kara must have noticed, her incredibly unfair super senses alerting her even before Alex noticed that Lena was awake, her blue eyes dark and soft in the flickering light.

Total silence fell over the room; all Alex could hear was Kelly breathing against her.

“I have a real family, Kara,” Lena said, softly. “They’re right here. You’re right here.”

“Lena?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Lena said, lifting her head gently from Kara’s face. “Ever. I promise.”

They stared at each other for long heavy moment and said nothing. Kara’s eyes were so soft, her gaze so heavy with love, beyond love, adoration, almost worship. Lena gave her a little smile and looked up at her through her lashes.

“Oh for fucks sake, will one of you just goddamn do it already?” Alex blurted.

To her surprise, or maybe not, it was Lena who crossed the gap, who sealed the deal. She was the one who kissed Kara but in moments it didn’t matter who started it, and Kara simply stood and lifted Lena with superhuman ease and was already carrying her up the stairs.

Silence again fell on the room.

“Querl,” Nia said, from the couch.

“Yes?”

“You’re from the future.”

“Indeed.”

“You knew the whole time, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh come on!” Nia snapped.

“I’m trying to sleep,” said Kelly, prompting Alex to snort.

Finally, they all did.

[mellosdrawings]

The Princes

Ten years later. When marrying a Prince turns a Queen and a Servant into actual Royalties.

Because Vil deserves a real crown and Jamil deserves to be treated better.

NOW I'M GONNA RANT ABOUT MY CHARA DESIGNS CHOICES AND ALL THE DISCOVERIES I MADE WHILE LOOKING FOR REFS! If you only care about art and funny doodles, you can scroll down for a handful of slices of life.

(Don't worry if you can't read my notes, I'm repeating myself better right under this)

Leona

-Lion: As you may know, one of my grievances with Leona is how his hair doesn't look like an actual mane despite being a lion. While I don't want to stray too far from the canon design with the usual drawings, that's the occasion for me to have some fun with a future version. Give that lion a beard and voluminous hair!

-Hair: First, get those bangs out of his face. Despite Leona being very confident, he still has bangs covering his scarred eye. I wanted him to finally own the aspects of him that may be scary to others (his UM, his scar, etc). I actually went with bangs framing his face similar to the ones he had during his Overblot. I wasn't sure whether to give him dreadlocks or curly hair, but I ended up choosing the free curls decorated with some atebas and braids so that Vil could have more fun styling them.

-Eye: Thanks @aria-faye for the idea, I decided to have his eye gradually lose its capacities with time. From a headcanon that, while the eye wasn't directly touched by whatever attack scarred him, the process of healing still had an impact on it and he gradually lost sight in his left eye years after years.

-Body: Not giving him a dad bod (yet, maybe in another ten years), but definitely giving him more voluminous yet casual muscles. Practical muscles with a healthy dose of fat and tissues. Also giving him two full sleeves of tattoos because I decided he should have much more than just his lion tattoo.

-Clothes: Went full Maasai dressing and Kenyan fabrics and beadworks. If you're not familiar with it, please go check it out, it's GORGEOUS!! Crown is beadwork too. He also has one Arabic styled foot jewellery.

Jamil

-Hair: My first order was to remove his double-faced hairstyle and also remove his bangs from his eye. Make him confident enough to show his whole face. Unlike Leona and Vil, he doesn't really want a crown though (he still feels weird about becoming royalty) so instead he uses a braid as crown. Also gave him a little goatee because I like facial hair and Jafar has a beard too.

-Body: He grew up! While he didn't quite catch up with Leona and Vil, he is now closer to their sizes than before, sitting at around 180cm. He kept his breakdancer/martial artist lean muscles but developed a bit of shoulders.

-Clothes: Went full Arabic dressing and fabrics (once more, go check the fabrics, they are pieces of arts). I gave him floral motifs instead of his usual fire/snake motifs (though he does have a snake earring and a fangs necklace) to symbolise his rebirth/blooming. Like Leona, he has one piece of jewellery that is beadwork.

Vil

-Hair: Here it was a bit tricky. Considering Vil's work, he likely changes hairstyles a lot, going from long to short for his roles instead of his wants. So I leaned into the little things he could add to his hair despite their constant changes, mostly jewelleries, beadworks and wool decorations he stole from his husbands. He also cares a bit less about them looking perfect and is allowing himself to be more natural. He doesn't have any facial hair (yet), keeping a youthful appearance for as long as he can. In another ten years though, he might start looking more and more like his father, beard included.

-Clothes: For Leona and Jamil's mental states, the three of them most likely started living in Sunset Savanna so they wouldn't freeze to death. Vil is well traveled so he can handle most temperatures without trouble, and he is used to dressing up in the local get ups. Here I decided to give him both African dress and Arabic fabric, and likewise both beadwork and golden jewellery. I gave him crown and heart motifs so he can keep being himself despite borrowing a lot from his husbands.

There, I'm done rambling. Here's some doodles, followed by some random headcanons.

-Vil does his husbands hair every morning and keeps giving them more and more intricate hairstyles. He developed a whole haircare and beard-care products set for them.

-When Vil is away for a movie, Jamil keeps his hair mostly down save for a few accessories.

-Jamil and Falena get along surprisingly well (to Leona's despair). Vil gets along very well with Falena's wife.

-Jamil acts as a Scalding Sands ambassador and still is the one to care for Kalim when he comes to visit, though this time he's doing it because he wants to and not because he has to.

-Vil got used to his new title immediately but Jamil struggles with it a lot. He still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he is no longer a servant.

-The servants at the palace love Jamil because he always makes their job easier.

-Leona finally decided to put his wits to good use and became Falena's advisor. He still fights a lot with Kifaji about the direction to take with the country, but he managed to make some of his ideas heard to help with the staggering inequalities in the country.

That's all for now!

[lylianrae]

A list of all the things I have manifested ⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪

We manifest everything in our lives btw - the good and the bad which is why I will be including both to prove that the law does not discriminate. If you can successfully become poor, you can most definately become rich with the same ease because everything is just a state.

Long hair

AHH this is one of my favourite manifestations. Ever since I was young I had a weird bob with a fringe (often crooked) and I wanted long hair like all the other girls (lmaoo) but my mum was strict so she didn't let me grow it out. Although I didn't know about manifestation back then, every new year and birthday I would wish for long hair and I would pretend I was a princess with butt long hair. Guess what, somewhere along the line, my mum let me grow it out and now I have butt length hair (don't really know what to do with it tho </3).

As all kids do, I went through an emo phase where I chopped off like half of my hair like 4 years ago. I literally grew back 7-8" of hair within a month because my parents got too mad. I knew about manifestation here so I just assumed my hair always grows unaturally fast. Same with when I cut bangs, they grew past my chin within a couple of weeks.

Manifesting my way into a private school

Honestly this just shows that you dont need 2430430 hours of working on your self concept to manifest. Literally so many celebs, including Marylin Monroe (the queen), manifested their fame with awful self concept. Likewise, here I was possibly going through the worst time of my life back then. I would wake up at 8 am and start studying and end at 11 pm despite being only 10 at the time. I was so freaking stressed and envious of all the other children and went into a depressive spiral where my two options were pass or die. I didn't even have enough practice and I cried my self to sleep on most nights. Anyways, when i did the exam I was deathly calm and even after the exam I was apparently so chill so my parents thought I failed.

I literally left 9 questions on one paper but throughout the summer, everytime I found a dandelion I would make a wish and imagine digging a tunnel to the examiners room where I secretly change my answers into the right ones (lmfao my tiny 10 yr old brain - idek how it worked). Anyways my results were sent back to me a month later on a random October evening and I got a really high mark. Even after 7 years of going to this school I havn't met anyone who has gotten a mark higher than mine.

Curly hair / straight hair

Sigh. We always want things we don't have. When I was younger I had really straight hair like 1A asian hair but when I was like 10, I really wanted curly hair and I would try to curl it often. After a few months, I manifested a curling iron and my hair literally became naturally curly like right after a wash it would curly af when before it was dead straight. Naturally I grew bored of it and I wanted my straight hair back and for ages I began overcomplicating the law and struggled to manifest it. It was only recently when I actually let go of the 3D that I manifested the silky, shiny straight hair.

Social life?

This is also a funny one, just shows how easily you can manifest. So back in 2021 after lockdown I felt so lonely and felt so left out of my friendship group so after a few months I began stressing myself out and spiraling for like 30 minutes, sobbing to myself about how I was so lonely and how nobody loved me (💀). Anyways it became reality, I found myself uncomfortable in many social situations and found myself becoming forgotten far more easily. I don't really remember the details but it was so bad that I think I accidently manifested social anxiety (oh well we still up tho).

However I am a loa girly so I found myself listening to popularity subliminals and slowly (but surely) my mindset change from having no friends to being the most popular girl in the year. Like no joke I became friends with like 3 people from different social circles so at lunchtime we had to join up like 3 different tables so we can all sit together. Overall I got myself 20+ close friends and even my ex friends began to admire me although it had ended badly. Even now, when someone says something thats untrue - for example saying that they are dumb when they are not, they would be like "ahaha so its like when Rae (me) says she has no friends, the whole school knows who Rae is".

Clear skin

This was sort of in the beginning of my loa (law of attraction back then) journey, I just randomly found out what subliminals were and was still quite new to everything. Now I don't even understand how it happened but I had busted some capillaries under my skin and it looked like small red viens under my skin and bro I was freaking out at the time. One night I was like just, I had enough, I'm going to get myself better skin and so I listened to a sub once for 3-4 days and on like the 4th day, my cheeks began to heat up which was odd and the next day it was 90% gone. Just like magikkkk.

Desired university?

Guys. Feeling is the secret. Don't you ever forgot that - not feeling as in emotions but rather the feeling of knowing. I had 2 entrance exams to do to apply for my universities and it was a stressful time where I wasn't getting enough sleep and wasn't eating enough simply because I didn't have the time. Like I come home from school and would have 3-4 hours of homework, then I need to revise for tests and then the remaining time would be spent on the entrance exams. Each past paper took 2 hours and I have around 13s per questions and I was already struggling on time. Anyways, I began to hate them and I would often complain to my mum saying things like "My score got even lower!!" or "I hate it so much" or "My head hurts / eyes hurt".

Guess what? Not only did I see my score decrease over time but I also made such a silly mistake on the most important entrance exam which I needed for 4/5 of my universities. I left a question and completely forgot to mark on the answer so when I finished the section I realised I had one more space on the sheet with like 10s to spare. I didn't have enough time to go back and fix it and lemme say that I did so badly in the test. Even while waiting for results I was just like "ah it would be a miracle if I scored above this bla bla".

I got the score back and it was so freaking bad like I did not stand a chance at my university at all. However, I started to affirm for a place and to my utter shock and surprise my desired university reached out and offered me an interview. I knew people who had like scores which were 50% better than mine and they still got rejected pre-interview. Anyways I began stressing about the interview and the results of the whole thing and boom. I got rejected 3 days after my birthday lmaoo. But its okay because I'm reapplying and I learnt so much more. I'm redoing the entrance exam and my score is a loooot better than it ever was last year.

A key take away would be thoughts are the result of the state you are in. Your dwelling state manifests and I was focusing on the unrealness and the difficultly of getting into this uni and thats what manifested. At the time I was heartbroken and literally went through the 7 stages of grief and spent so many months trying to revise it only for me to focus on the 3D. Just know that everything is done in imagination and it appears in the 3D as a result.

Photographic memory

So this is also something I had manifested before I actually knew about loa but the takeaway here is that manifestation is always instant. I was around 11 reading a random book on my tiny kindle and the book was on how to develop a good memory and I was like ah that'll be useful. Anyways later in the car, I asked my dad about photographic memory and he sort of explained it to me. I just assumed that I have that and I told him I do. He just laughed at me and said thats something that you have to train for and I was not impressed lmao. Inside my tiny brain, I was just like nope, I already have photographic memory and I dropped that thought. Let me tell you, my memory is actually photographic and has helped me out on so many occasions like my brain just takes pictures of things.

Learning fast

This is also something I did before I knew loa, I was just always wondering why the other kids couldn't grasp concepts as easily as I did. Literally in every lesson I would be like ah I learn so fast and now I am actually blessed with the ability to grasp complex subjects so fast. A favourite example of mine would be when I was obsessed with music but to take it to a higher level you need to be able to play an instrument. I couldn't at the time and my teacher told me the requirements a week before the actual deadline. I have never actually played piano with both hands but one day I sat down and worked through the entire song (fur elise by Beethoven) which is a grade 5 (I think) and it normally takes people months / weeks to learn. I learnt the whole thing in 3 days and from then on, I could play piano like I had been doing for ages. Again the memory thing was so helpful because I never actually used any sheet music, I learnt it off a youtube video and I remembered every single note I needed to play.

Hourglass body + 22" waist

This was a couple of years ago when I actually didn't understand loa. Anyways long story short, I would do a 3 minute workout and then flex infront of the mirror all day (💀) and be like omg I have abs. Overtime, I actually got so skinny everyone around me kept pointing it out to me and my mum got so concerned that she took me to the doctor like 4 times. It was so funny, I would loose like 2-3kg overnight and my parents would have to buy better fitting uniform.

Bigger boobs

This was also back in the day (2021?) when I didn't understand how to manifest things easily af. I had an A cup but I wanted better boobies and I listened to like 2 subs for a week and I went to a B cup. But I just assumed I have a bigger cup size recently and I just skipped C and went to D+ (haven't measured in a long time).

I'm not done but I'm tired now bye bye

[raevpng]

just us

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

masterlist

a/n: u guys asked for it and you shall receive :p hey guys! this is my first ever fic here so im gonna be so fr im still figuring out how tumblr works so my bad if the layout is weird LAWL anyways i love pazzi sm and i hope u guys enjoy :)

summary: where azzi feels a little bummed about their inevitable separation after winning the natty and paige comforts her girl <3

---

in hindsight, azzi should’ve known. 

the moment brown eyes met blue, the moment friendship turned into something sweeter, the moment teasing during practices turned into intense looks on the court – as if paige was trying to commit every single detail into memory, that there would be an ending – a goodbye, at some point. 

honestly speaking, azzi did know. there was always a pull in her chest, a sour feeling in her stomach when people reminded them that paige was going to leave soon. that her best friend turned girlfriend would no longer be just hers, but would officially be shared with the rest of the world. that she couldn’t just text her to come over and she’d be there in a heartbeat wearing sweats they forgot the original owner of, or stolen pecks on the lips in the locker room before running out for a home game.   

“hey, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” a soft voice spoke through her spiralling thoughts. 

azzi snapped out of her thoughts to the blonde’s soft smile and the same deep blue eyes she fell in love with, the net from their championship game still adorning her neck. azzi stifled a chuckle at her girlfriend’s shenanigans, watching as paige playfully winked when she noticed azzi staring. 

“just thinking about you. us.” she shuffled on the couch of paige’s dorm to let her girlfriend plop beside her, paige’s arm instinctively resting around azzi’s shoulders. 

paige frowned, sensing her girlfriend’s anxiety as she tugged the curly haired girl closer, pressing her lips to her temple. “what about us, princess?” 

azzi shrugged, ignoring the butterflies that erupted in her stomach at the nickname, trying to downplay her worries, because how could she dampen paige’s joy over the missing piece in her collegiate career? she knew how much this championship meant to her, if the net still on her neck wasn’t a dead giveaway. she didn’t want to seem selfish or a killjoy by discussing the inevitable. their separation.  

because as much as paige annoyed azzi to death, she didn’t want to think about what life would be like once paige leaves. once her best friend, her constant, her partner, her soulmate, wouldn’t be at most, a floor away at all times. how she couldn’t just run up to her and kiss her girlfriend’s pout away when she was sulking over something stupid (like azzi winning a game paige insisted on playing.) she doesn’t even want to think about the time difference or the plain fact that they’re going to be separated by thousands of miles and states. that by this time next week, paige wouldn’t be here, and she’ll have to watch as her scent fades from her room, as her hair ties stop accumulating on her desk, as all her hoodies and clothing stay in her closet no longer being stolen by the blonde. 

however, as much as azzi tried to conceal her feelings, paige knew. just by the difference in her normally steady breathing, to the subtle crease in her forehead, to the tight clutch of azzi’s fingers on the hem of paige’s hoodie.

paige knew, and she felt it too. 

“hey. you know nothing can ever tear us apart right? no distance, time difference, or busy schedule can ever take me away from you, please tell me you know that?” paige said softly, coaxing azzi to look up to her. 

suddenly, the dam of feelings within the younger broke, her lips trembling as she let out a soft whimper, followed by paige immediately wrapping her arms around her girlfriend, swallowing the sob that threatened to come out too. as azzi buried her face in her girlfriend’s chest, her tears staining her grey sweatshirt, paige rubbed her back attempting to calm her down while trying to ground herself too. 

“i’m scared. i’m scared of being alone and doing all of this without you.” azzi admitted softly, “im scared that I’ll miss you so much I wouldn’t know what to do. i'm scared that you’ll get so busy you’ll decide you don’t want me anymore.”

“azzi.” paige breathed out incredulously, “i know it’ll be tough. i know we’ll probably go through some pretty difficult shit. i'll finish a hell of a practice and I can’t just come over to your dorm for a hug, or…” Paige wiggled her eyebrows, coaxing a small laugh from the other, “and I know you’ll miss me when the world is a bit harsher than my princess deserves.” she smiles, bringing azzi a little closer, “but we’ve done long distance before and we’ll do it again. it’s you baby, you’re the one for me. i knew it when we were kids, and i know it now. you’re not getting away from me that easily.” she finished firmly, watching as azzi’s eyes softened. “Got it?” 

azzi nodded, her heart feeling a little lighter at the reassurance of her girlfriend, sighing softly as she burrows her head deeper into the blonde’s neck. her eyelashes flutter shut as the older peppers her head with small kisses. 

“i’m gonna visit you as much as i can. gonna get so sick of me.” azzi jokes as Paige lets out a soft chuckle. 

“never, az. could never get sick of my girl.” 

and although they know the day they get separated by thousands of miles gets closer by the second, they stayed wrapped around each other in their own world, breathing slowing down as they succumb to a sweet rest - their own sweet haven where it’s not paige bueckers the number one pick in the draft, or azzi fudd the most outstanding player. 

just azzi and paige. 

--

hehe i luv them sm :( hope u guys enjoyed and please send some prompts and just talk to me hehe i love making friends :)

[linkcharacter]

I feel like many people are too focused on what Curly could've 'done' instead of what he 'thought' about it, how he saw and processed it in his head. As I see it, the point isn't that he did nothing, it's that he keeps shoving away and downplaying Jimmy's bullshit in his perception, which would then lead to inaction from Curly's side. That if he could've, we don't know if he would've. Action is very much needed in cases like Anya's, though it wouldn't make things better in the Tulpar situation, BUT that's just the horror of it and it doesn't remove Curly's faults outside of that. The point is that Curly is human and isn't exempt from trying to avoid the issue at hand in his head because of who he is as a person and the environment they're in, the condition Curly's in. He knows it's BAD with Jimmy, yet due to either or both, prolonged conditioning of their toxic friendship and Curly's stunted mental state, it doesn't click in his head properly.

If Anya didn't end up pregnant, if Jimmy didn't crash the ship, would Curly have seriously contemplated about Jimmy or rethought their friendship after finding out he's a rapist? Would anything have changed between them? I would imagine if Curly want half-delirious half-conscious and not going through an existential crisis, then I would give it a very stretched "maybe", and it still would've taken time to detach yourself from a close friend (with possible emotional abuse benefits). But we don't know what COULD'VE been, we just know he DIDN'T. And that is behavior of an enabler, not ill-willed or inconsiderate, but it's human to be afraid of change and be attached. Still ended in upkeeping his friend's harmful behaviors, not due to lack of wanting him to change but that's just how things are. It's realistic, there's no inherent 'morality' attached to Curly's actions, they were simply actions, what matters is the result. Good intentions don't mean much in face of a horrific outcome.

Would Curly keep attempting to give Jimmy help to be better, in vain like he was suggested to have done before? Very possible. "We said tomorrow will be different. Today would be the last day."

Would Curly report Jimmy to the authorities if he could? We don't know (I'm leaning towards a no though). It's not a bad thing to want your friends to be better and believe in them, nor do I think cutting them off is always the best course of action. Rehabilitation is a good thing (though we don't know exactly how Curly tried to help Jim) and having a support system as friends can make it more effective especially if it's a person struggling financially and mentally in life like Jimmy. Yet Jimmy still has to take accountability and be handled in a proper manner for what he did, not just be let go off the hook, only hoping he will improve like Curly does. At some point Curly had to stop making Jimmy's actions his responsibility but never did, until the end.

The conditions of the Tulpar themselves are very lackluster, the system is unfair and harsh with what we know about Mouthwashing's world. The companies are uncaring and scummy as they are in real life, Pony Express especially being cheap and has no regard for the safety and well being of their employees. It all creates a systematic environment for the worst human traits to fester in unchecked, no one single individual could've "fixed it".

So realistically I don't see much that could've been done in the environment they were in and no matter what Curly did, the outcome would never be good. In any course of action Curly could've gone with, the situation isn't changing, Anya was assaulted, Jimmy is the Co-pilot, the duration of the flight is more than the pregnancy term, conflict within the crew will be punished financially by the HR, they were fired. It's horrible and irreparable no matter what. That is the situation.

But

Curly still downplayed it, that's the point. It's not about the potential actions we imagine he could've taken, it's about all the things he didn't take into account and lacked proper judgement towards his friend, which ended up festering a destructive parasite called Jimmy.

Not to mention that Mouthwashing is such a multifaceted game in terms of its themes, it cannot be defined by ONLY this one Curly idea. There's so much more to the story.

[deathbyday]

˚ 𖥔˚Anya x implied f!Reader - sticking up for her˚ 𖥔˚

Written By: DeathByDay

+++

You sat around the lounge room’s table with the rest of the crew. Anya sat to your left, her hands intertwined with yours on her thigh. Swansea was just right across from you, Daisuke beside him. Curly and Jimmy sat on the ends of the table, staring at each other.

You all had just gotten word from Curly that Pony Express has finally shut down and this would be the last time the crew was together. Everyone became upset at the news, rightfully so, but Jimmy was angry.

He ranted about how Curly was selfish and heading for “bigger and better” than the five of you. You raised a brow, realizing how idiotic this fight between the two became.

You weren’t going to say anything about it, but that backfired when Jimmy began going around the table stating everyone’s struggles. And of course, he just had to start with your girlfriend.

“Anya never got into medical school because she’s, well, let’s be real..” He trailed off, glancing at the poor girl. He turned to you and opened his mouth to speak, but you immediately cut him off.

“Oh, fuck you, Jim!” You shouted, slamming your hands on the table and standing up. You pointed a finger towards him, continuing on. “You don’t have any right to go around the table saying that shit. What about you? Why don’t you share with all of us what Curly meant by a ‘struggle of a life’?”

You glared at the man, your eyes full of hatred. His brows furrowed even more as he stood up, his voice rising to match your energy.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to shout at me like that?” He yelled, his body acting like it was ready to pounce on you. “Don’t ignore my question!” You replied, voice raising. Everyone else stayed silent, watching the two of you argue.

That was until you eventually ran around Anya’s chair and slapped the brunette across the face, causing him to push you. You gripped his hair and slammed him into the ground with all your force, not thinking about how much more strength he had than you.

You two continued fighting, punches and kicks being thrown around. Daisuke had his hand clasped around his mouth in shock, looking like he was about to burst into tears and giggle like a kid.

Curly got up from his seat and shouted at the both of you in attempt to stop the fight, but failed miserably. As his attempted failed, Swansea stood up and grabbed you from underneath your arms and dragged you back, stopping the chaos.

“C’mon, kid!” He muttered a bit loudly, struggling as you fought back. Anya stood by the older man, a few tears in her eyes. As Swansea let you go, you were about to pounce on the brunette once again, but your girlfriend held you down by placing her hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, stop!” She scolded, her grip tightening. You glanced up at the woman, obeying her order. You turned back towards Jimmy, seeing his face bruised up. You lightly chuckled, knowing that you fucked his face up.

Anya helped you up before dragging you away from everyone, walking to the medical room.

“Baby, I’m fine..” You muttered, dragging out your words as if you were pouting. She shook her head, concern written all over her face. “No, you aren’t. Your face is all bruised, not to mention the blood coming out of your nose.” She replied. She seemed mad, but her features told a different story.

After a few seconds of walking, you finally got to the medical room. You sat down in the red chair beside her desk, waiting for her to get the supplies to help you. She quickly grabbed them and set them down on the table.

She brung a few tissues that were wrapped around each other and pressed them against your nose, stopping the bleeding. You groan, feeling the red liquid drop onto your lip. “You shouldn’t have done that.” She mumbled, shaking her head in disappointment.

“But he came at you for no reason! I can’t just not step in.” You defend yourself, slightly giggling as you recall his bruised face. She sighed, taking the tissue away from your nose.

She then grabbed an ice pack, placing it against your cheek. You grumble, squirming in your seat at the new temperature. “Do you really think this is necessary? I swear, I’m fine.” You pout, feeling uncomfortable as she held you in place.

“This is necessary. If we don’t get this treated, the bruising can get worse.” She explained, gently tapping the ice around your face. You nod, taking a glance around the room as she did so.

After a few minutes, she pulled away, causing you to turn to her. “Did I do good?” You murmur, hoping for her praise. She fights back a smile and gives you a light chuckle. She places her hands on her hips before exhaling, the worry in her face gone.

“You did great, honey. Just please promise me you won’t pick a fight with anyone else? We really don’t need you getting fired.” She smiles down at you, bending over and giving you a light kiss on your forehead before leaving the room, taking the ice pack and extra tissue with her to deal with Jimmy.

+++

authors note

I’m so sorry if this isn’t as good as you were expecting, my eyes are literally fighting to stay open💔

But thank you for the request!! I appreciate it very much<3

[meazalykov]

welcome home

barcelona femeni x alexia putellas x youngadult!reader

summary: you find healing after switching clubs

warnings: swearing, bodyshaming, one mention of bodily fluids, I made up names of imaginary players who don't play for the nwsl club mentioned in this fic!!!, bullying, angst, yes there is a happy ending.

you grew up with your eyes on the stars, and your feet on the ball. 

at 15, you felt like the world belonged to you—a place where dreams became your reality. you’d trained hard your whole life to make it to the world stage, and by 16, you were living your dream as one of the youngest members of the 2019 world cup roster for the united states. 

the national anthem playing, crowds screaming your name as you made the assist to rose lavelle’s goal—it was everything you’d ever wanted.

all of the happiness and thrill faded away when you joined the kansas city current. when you first stepped into the locker room, you were excited. new teammates, new opportunities—it was everything you’d hoped for. 

you wanted to make friends, to be part of a family when it came to being with your first professional club outside of your childhood one. 

the moment you walked through those doors, you could feel something off. the eyes on you were sharp, intense, cold.

“what’s up, big foot?” macy had said, the team captain, with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. 

"don't trip over those feet, yeah?" she had laughed, and a few others joined in, but the laughter felt harsh, mocking.

“yeah, we don’t need a kid coming in thinking she’s hot shit,” added jessica, one of the veteran players, her words dripping with sarcasm. 

“try not to embarrass us out there.”

you laughed nervously, trying to brush it off as rookie hazing, but the tone was sharper than you expected. you told yourself that it was normal, that it was just their way of breaking the ice.

 

you couldn't have been more wrong.

practices started to become a war zone. it wasn’t just intense training; it was like they were out to get you. elbows to your back when the coach wasn’t looking, hair pulling, shoes clipped behind your heels to send you stumbling. 

once, in a scrimmage, you remember trying to dribble past jessica. the curly-red headed girl came in late with a slide tackle, her studs connecting straight with your shin. you hit the ground hard, gasping for breath, and she stood over you, smirking.

“whoops,” she said, her voice flat and unapologetic. “you should be quicker, portland has fast forwards and you can’t defend them with those legs.”

the coaches didn’t do anything. you’d get up, limp back into position, and hear them say, “come on y/n, toughen up. you’ve got to be ready for contact against portland on thursday.” 

they acted like it was all normal, like you were the problem.

in the locker room, it wasn’t any better. they whispered behind your back, cruel comments about your skills, your looks, even your voice. 

once, after a tough practice where arianna had practically shoved you into the goalpost, you were struggling to keep your emotions in check as you unlaced your cleats. you heard them in the back of the room, their voices loud and taunting.

“seriously, what does the national team see in her? she’s not even that great,” jessica said, snickering.

“guess they needed a token teenager to fill the roster,” another voice added, followed by laughter. 

“she needs to go back to playing with the u18s, kylie you’d do much better than her in the left-back position!”

you bit your lip so hard it bled, staring down at the floor, pretending you didn’t hear them. you never knew what to say. it felt like you couldn’t breathe. 

everything you did felt wrong, like you were walking on eggshells every day.

and then came the night that broke you.

it was after that world cup loss to sweden, a moment that already weighed on you like a thousand bricks. 

you returned to kansas hoping to throw yourself into training, to prove you could bounce back. but when you entered the locker room, your world came crashing down. your locker was trashed—like a hurricane had blown through. 

your training kit was shredded, your cleats filled with some kind of foul-smelling gunk– obviously period blood due to a used tampon found inside of the locker. and scrawled in black marker across the inside door of your locker were the words, 

spoiled, selfish, fat bitch!

you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, hands shaking so violently you couldn’t steady them. 

“what... what the fuck is this?” your voice came out a choked whisper.

kamryn, another girl on the team, walked by, a smug grin on her face. 

“looks like someone had a bad month,” she said, fake sympathy dripping from her words. 

“i hope you can still play tomorrow, stargirl.”

the nickname fans around the world called you, now being used to belittle you. 

you couldn’t hold it in anymore. you yelled at them, your voice cracking with rage and desperation, “the fuck? what did i do to any of you? this is fucking insane and you think i am the problem?”

“you walked in here thinking you were better than us. you got handed everything, y/n. you don’t deserve to be here. you’re a little girl playing a big girl’s game.” jessica walked in, scoffing while smirking at the sight of your locker in the dressing room.

you left that night and didn’t stop crying until your eyes were red and swollen. but even then, the coaches did nothing. 

they told you to toughen up, to show “mental strength,” as if their approval could patch over what you were going through. and that’s when you realized you had to get out��before this place destroyed you and any love you had for football.

barcelona was the escape you desperately needed. a chance to rebuild, to breathe. 

when you landed in spain, everything felt fragile. it didn’t matter that you were now with one of the best clubs in the world. 

the trauma from kansas stuck to you like a shadow. you walked into your new locker room, keeping your head down, afraid to say the wrong thing, terrified of the laughter you thought you’d hear.

but it never came. 

instead, alexia, the captain, was the first to welcome you. “y/n! niña!!! so nice to finally meet you,” she beamed, pulling you into a hug that felt warm and real. 

“i can’t wait to see you play. you’re from the states? we need to introduce you to keira and lucy– they’ve been wanting to meet you but don’t take their banter seriously.”

every day, they chipped away at your fear. little by little. 

when you struggled on penalty kicks one time during training, patri stayed back with you after practice. 

“okay you got this!!! by the end of this evening, you will never miss a penalty kick again. trust me! yeah? it’ll be fun.” she speaks with a thick catalan accent. 

you were hesitant, scared to mess up, but patri never pushed. she was patient, kind. she’d pass the ball back to you and made you do penalty kicks over and over again until you felt comfortable, until your footwork was smooth, and every small achievement she celebrated like it was a goal in the final. 

“see? you’ve got this,” she’d say, and you’d feel the corners of your mouth tug into a smile for the first time in what felt like forever.

it was a few weeks into your time with barcelona, but you still felt like an outsider. 

even with the kind gestures, the smiles, the support from the team, you were carrying the weight of kansas like a ghost. 

you stayed quiet during team meetings, laughed politely but never loudly, and when the others shared jokes or talked about life outside of soccer, you sat on the edges, half-invisible. 

alexia had been watching you. she noticed how you shrunk into yourself, how you seemed to fade into the background during conversations. 

during drills, your focus was laser-sharp—too sharp, like you were overthinking every touch, every pass. when you were off the ball, your eyes darted around, like you were searching for threats. 

you reminded alexia of esmee when she first arrived last season—new, uncertain. but this was different. 

there was fear and sadness in your eyes.

one afternoon after training, alexia pulled you aside. the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the pitch, and most of the team had already started heading back to the locker room. 

you felt her hand on your shoulder, and you turned, trying to hide the nervousness in your eyes.

“niña,” she said gently, a small smile on her lips. “can we talk?”

you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek. “sure, alexia. what’s up?”

“it’s about you,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “you’ve been… quiet. more quiet than normal. and i get it, you know, being the new girl and all. esmee and kika were shy when they first came, but…” alexia paused, searching your face. 

“this feels different. it feels like you’re afraid of us.”

you could feel your chest tighten, the words getting stuck in your throat. you didn’t want to seem weak, didn’t want to burden anyone. 

“i’m not... i mean, it’s just—" you stumbled over your words, trying to find the right thing to say, something that wouldn’t make you sound like a mess. “it’s nothing. really.”

alexia didn’t buy it. she shook her head slightly, taking a step closer to you. “i don’t think it’s nothing, y/n. you barely look anyone in the eye, and when someone even brushes by you during training, you flinch like you’re waiting to get hurt. it’s not normal.” 

she kept her voice calm, steady, like she was trying to reassure a frightened animal. “listen... if something happened before you got here, you can talk to me. it’s just me right now. no one else.”

you wanted to brush it off, to laugh and say she was overthinking, but the truth clawed its way up, burning your throat. you clenched your fists, staring down at your cleats, trying to focus on anything but alexia's eyes, which felt like they could see right through you. 

“it’s… it’s hard to talk about,” you finally admitted, voice cracking on the last word. 

“back in kansas, things were... bad. really bad.”

“what do you mean?” alexia’s voice was a whisper, gentle but urging you to continue. she stepped closer, her hand on your shoulder now, warm and steady.

you bit your lip, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill. 

“my teammates—they hated me. from the minute i got there, they acted like i was the opponent that happened to sneak into their dressing room. i thought maybe it was just... i don't know, maybe i did something wrong. but no matter what i did, they just got worse. they... they bullied me. on the field, off the field... they’d make comments, call me fat, trash my stuff, physically go after me during practice.” you took a shaky breath, your shoulders trembling. 

“they hated me for being good– for being called up to the world cup before some of their veterans did. they said i didn’t deserve the call ups at all, that i was useless. every single day felt like... like a war that i was going to lose.”

alexia’s face hardened, and for a second, you thought you saw anger glistening in her eyes.

“and your coaches?” she asked, voice tight with anger. “they did nothing?”

“they... didn’t care,” you said, shaking your head. 

“if anything, they made it worse. told me to toughen up, to get used to it, that it was part of being a pro. so i did. i tried to act like it didn’t bother me. but it did. every day, it did.”

there was a heavy silence. alexia didn’t speak for a moment, letting your words hang in the air. and then, she pulled you into a hug—tight, secure, like she was trying to shield you from all the pain you had gone through. 

you stiffened for a second, unaccustomed to the softness, the genuine care, but then melted into it, burying your face in her shoulder.

“you don’t have to go through that alone anymore,” she whispered. 

“this is your home now, y/n. we’re your family. i promise you—no one will ever treat you like that again. not while i’m here, and i am going to be here for a very long time.”

you felt the tears slide down your face, but they weren’t tears of pain anymore. 

they were relief, a feeling you hadn’t let yourself feel for a long time. when she finally let go, alexia cupped your face, making sure you were looking right into her eyes.

“you are so much more than what they made you feel,” she said firmly, her voice laced with emotion. “and if anyone even tries to make you feel like that again, they’ll have to go through me. through all of us. okay?”

you nodded, a small, shaky smile breaking through. “okay.”

“did you go to anyone on your national team about this?” alexia asked, hoping you did. 

“i did. alex was the one who encourage me to move clubs. trinity even promised to smash kansas when they go to washington dc to play against spirit.” you laughed, wiping a stray tear from your face.

she laughed back, squeezing your hands. “we’ve got your back, y/n. always.”

and she meant it. over the coming weeks, you felt the shift.

after that talk, alexia made it a point to check in on you. 

the small gestures from the team slowly healed the wounds you didn't think would ever close. 

when ingrid left you notes in your locker before every match with scribbled encouragements, kika making it a routine to kiss you on the head when you scored a goal past aitana in training, or when mapi pulled you into a bear hug after a tough game reminding you that she is proud of you– you felt at home. 

masterlist

[heavyhitterheaux]

Hello

See Me Through You Series

You had me at hello

Synopsis: The day that you met the love of your life and didn't realize it until almost a year later

Series Masterlist

Stepping onto the sidewalk as you had just left the building where your journalism class had just ended, your phone suddenly vibrated in your back pocket. It took you a minute to grab it, seeing as both of your hands were occupied at the moment. Doing a balancing act with your purse, backpack, keys and your binder that contained your notes, but was too big to fit in your backpack, you finally had a free hand.

Pulling it out of your back pocket, you saw it was your younger twin brother by three minutes Ja'Marr calling on facetime and took no hesitation to answer it. This was his fifth call to you today and knew that about four more would come your way and the worst part about it was that it wasn't even noon.

Not that you were upset about it. If your little brother called and needed you, he always became the priority and everything would be dropped at that very moment.

“What does your ugly ass want?” You asked him as his face came into view. He promptly rolled his eyes and sucked his teeth before saying anything. You could tell that he was in the gym and was probably waiting on you to get there since you had promised to work out with him.

“If I'm ugly, so are you because we're twins, stupid!”

“No, that's what mom and dad tell you but they actually found you in a dumpster and felt sorry for you and took you in.” You told him as you laughed and started to make your way back to your car to head to your apartment that was off campus.

It was only a few miles down the road which you were thankful for and the good part is that you could also drive home to see your parents on the weekends if you wanted to.

You were relieved when Ja'Marr decided to attend LSU with you because the two of you had never been apart in your entire lives. Deep down you knew that you would have eventually adjusted to him not being at the same college as you, but also glad that you didn't have to go that route.

“Y/N!”

“Just kidding! What do you need assistance with, little one?”

“Little one? I'm 6’1 and you are BARELY 5 feet on a good day. Try again.”

You were suddenly taken aback as you saw someone come into the frame behind him and did a double take once you recognized who it was.

Growing up in a sports filled household, college football as well as the NFL was not foreign to you. You watched both of them and knew players as well as their stats forwards and backwards. So to your surprise, you were actually seeing him in real time. You heard of the transfer happening, but it was different seeing him right in front of you.

So the rumors were true, he was really here.

Joe Burrow

Who used to play for Ohio State apparently was now playing for LSU.

“Ja'Marr, I will hang up. State your business or move on.”

“I thought you were supposed to meet me at the gym to work out AND bring my headphones that I know for a fact you stole.”

“YOU CAN'T PROVE IT!”

“Hmm, funny. I recall you asking me to use them last week and I haven't seen them since.”

“I threw them away.”

“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DEMAND ON STRESSING ME OUT? And I have someone here I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

“Will you just hurry up and get here and stop arguing with me!? I can pick your ass up and throw you across the room.”

“Hmm, sounds like a threat. I'm calling mommy. Bye.”

“Uh hold on, WAIT! DON'T CALL HER!”

Click.

Once back in your apartment, you quickly changed into your pink and black Fabletics workout set with your matching HOKAS and went on the search not only for Ja'Marr's headphones, but also yours. Since he let you borrow his, you didn’t bother trying to find yours even though you know you should have.

The both of you worked out with each other several times a week and it was important seeing as he played football and you were on the gymnastics team with your best friend, Erin.

Putting your curly hair into a high bun since you didn’t have time to straighten it this morning, you grabbed your wallet, water bottle, and keys before making your way back down to your car and heading to the gym.

Walking inside, you spotted him along with Joe in the corner next to the weight rack and promptly came up behind him and attempted to pick him up as you saw Joe's face giving a small smirk because of the gesture. You admit that you didn't realize how tall Joe actually was and you noticed that he was taller than Ja'Marr when they stood next to one another.

“HEY! Oh, it's just you. Joe, my big little sister by three minutes and she will never let you forget it, Y/N and Y/N this is Joe. And you are never going to be able to pick me up.” He told you while patting the top of your head as you were now trying to pick up his left leg.

“Just you watch. It's going to happen one day when you least expect it. Anyway, Hi Joe, and Ja'Marr you should know better. I already know who you are.” You told him and he looked a little confused before greeting you.

“Hey, you do gymnastics right? I saw you compete over the summer.”

You smiled before nodding, taken aback that he knew who you were also. Not a lot of attention was put on gymnastics unless it was during the Olympics. Your goal was to go to Tokyo in 2020.

“Didn't take you for a gymnastics type of guy.” You replied while attempting to fix your hair that had now fallen out of the bun you put it in. You blamed it on not being tight enough the first time.

“It's entertaining to watch.”

“Hmm, because of the outfits?” You asked as you were trying to feel him out and you could've swore you heard Ja'Marr mutter something under his breath.

“No, I just think it's insane how you can do all those different types of exercises and routines just like it's nothing. You can literally visualize where you're going to land before it happens.”

“It's the same with football when you think about it. You're a quarterback so I can imagine that before you decide where you're going to throw and who you're going to throw to what the end result will be.”

“Something like that.”

“Stop interrogating the man! Sports journalism is her major and she thinks she's smart. So she of course knows all of the players and their stats. I’m convinced she’s going to start memorizing playbooks and try to get on the field with us.” Ja'Marr said as he turned to Joe and you pinched his arm resulting in a yelp as Joe let out a small laugh.

“I'm smarter than your dumbass. That's for sure and are we going to work out or stand here all day? Besides I wasn't interrogating. You can't get to know someone unless you talk to them and ask questions.” You told him as you gave him his headphones.

“I'm ignoring you and what are we working on today?”

“Hmm full body I guess. I already did my legs, back, shoulders and arms this week.” You answered as you shrugged and put in your headphones. Flipping through your phone, you tried to find the perfect playlist in order to get through the workout and hopefully finish strong.

You usually hated working out with Ja’Marr since he would always want to add on something extra at the end of it when you were ready to go home and crawl into the bed.

Joe and Ja’Marr quickly agreed and it was decided that the three of you would warm up by running on the treadmill for three miles before going back to the weight rack.

On your second mile, your music was suddenly cut off by your phone ringing. Looking down you saw that it was Trevor, your boyfriend of one year who happened to play baseball at LSU and that was one of your primary reasons for going there. Also having your brother there was a plus.

Deep down you knew that your brother didn’t like him, but to you he was the best thing since sliced bread and could do no wrong in your eyes. But what you didn’t notice was Ja’Marr glancing over at your phone and seeing it was him and rolling his eyes.

You simply finished out your third mile before going to call him back leaving Ja’Marr there along with Joe who had turned down the speed to a brisk walk as he had done the same.

“I fucking hate her boyfriend.”

“Wait, what? He’s here too?” Joe asked as he was looking around.

“No, I saw that he called her and I’m guessing that she went to go and call him back. I can’t fucking stand him and she could do so much better. But she’s happy and the last thing I want to do is ruin that for her. He honestly treats her like shit from what I’ve seen, but I guess she doesn't see it that way.” He confessed as Joe had his eyes on you as you were standing in the corner. He figured that you were on facetime by the way you were holding it and making gestures with your hands.

“But he makes sure to never do that shit in front of me because I will take his ass down. I’m always going to protect my sister. I honestly wish that she was with someone who respected her and didn’t take her for granted like his ass does. She is honestly the sweetest most generous person despite how much we might bicker and she doesn’t deserve someone who takes her for granted. But you'll eventually be able to see how sweet she is for yourself. She literally lives up under me. When you see me, nine times out of ten she’s not too far behind.”

It was at that moment, you walked back over to them and Ja’Marr could tell that you were visibly upset.

“Pebbles, what’s wrong?” Ja’Marr asked but you simply waved him off.

Ever since you two were about six months old, your aunt on your mother's side started to call the two of you Pebbles and Bam Bam and the nicknames had stuck. It also was no coincidence since your mom used to love watching the Flintstones when she was small just like you and Ja’Marr did.

“Nothing, I’m fine. Let’s hurry up and get this done.” You responded as you felt tears forming in your eyes and you did your best to quickly wipe them away.

“You aren't fine so don't stand up here and lie to me. Did he upset you?”

Joe could now see that he was visibly upset which was in turn making you more upset.

“Don't worry about it, I just want to get this done so I can go back to my apartment and study.”

“If you need me to kick his ass, I stay ready.”

“JA'MARR! NO!”

“And Joe will back me up too. You should see how much he can bench press. No one will know.”

“I… I appreciate both of you very much for offering even though you literally just threw Joe in there without giving him a say in the matter, but I promise I'm good.”

“I'm here for assistance if needed.” Joe said and that put a small smile on your face.

“Yeah about that, show me how much you can bench press.”

“Oh lord, Joe you got her started. Now her competitive ass is going to see if she can beat you. She might be small, but don't let that fool you. She also eats like a grown ass man.”

“Bam Bam, keep talking and I will throw that 60 pound dumbbell at your head.”

The workout was winding down and you wanted to work on your pull ups a little bit more since the upper body was your weakest area. You stood in front of the pull up bar and noticed that Ja'Marr was in the middle of his set, so the only other option was to ask Joe for help to reach the bar since there was no way in the world that you would be able to get up there on your own. But he beat you to it as he walked over to you.

“Need some help?”

“Hmm, definitely yes since there is no way in the world I'll be able to reach it by myself.” You replied as you both laughed.

“I got you. Jump up and I'll lift you the rest of the way.”

Nodding your head, you turned around and felt Joe's light touch on both of your sides. You couldn't quite explain it, but when his hands made contact with your skin, the feeling that it gave you felt unreal. Almost if it was something out of a movie. Shaking it out of your mind, you focused on the task in front of you as you jumped up.

As promised Joe helped you the rest of the way and stepped back once he saw that you were hanging onto the bar.

“Do you mind just standing there to spot me? Pull ups aren't my strongest thing.”

“Yeah, I'll be right here. Go ahead, you think you can do twenty?”

“Hmm, let's find out. I think I can.”

Fifteen of them came with ease and when you started to struggle, you once again felt Joe's hands on your waist and he helped you do the rest of them. You let go of the bar with him then catching you and placing you on your feet.

“Thank you for that.” You told him and you received a cheeky smile in return.

“Any time.”

“By the end of the semester, my plan is to be able to bench press the same weight or more weight than you.” You playfully told him and the smile that he had before became wider.

“I'd love to see that, princess. So let's put some money on it.”

“How much? 50?” You asked not really knowing how much he was willing to put up.

“Nah, you can do better than that.”

“Okay, 500.” You said as you shrugged.

“Damn, I didn't think you would go that high, but okay. Ja'Marr also mentioned to me that since you're the oldest, what you say usually goes between the two of you.”

“He's teaching you well.”

“Hmm, we'll see if that holds up between the two of us.”

“Looks like we just have to see then, won't we Burrow?”

The next day, you found yourself yawning at five in the morning absentmindedly taking small bites of your protein bar as you began to stretch with Erin coming over to sit next to you.

You hated that you had gymnastics practice so early in the day, making all of your classes be in the afternoon or late at night. The campus itself was huge and you didn't always necessarily feel completely safe when you had to walk back to your car late at night.

“So, did you break up with Trevor yet?” She asked as she began to stretch her arms.

“Uh? Good morning to you too, Erin.”

“Good morning, now did you two break up yet?”

“No, Erin.”

She sighed before rolling her eyes and looking at you in disbelief.

“Nobody likes him! Dump his ass! And I don't like the way he treats you. Truth be told, I've never liked him.”

“But I like him!” You exclaimed and she gave you a blank stare.

“Yeah, only you and his bald headed mother. You could do so much better. Oh! Who did you meet yesterday when you went to workout with Ja’Marr? I guess you fell asleep and never read my text.”

“Joe Burrow. He plays quarterback.”

“Oohh, he's cute! I heard about him transferring here. Break up with Trevor and date him! There, problem solved.”

“ERIN!”

“What? You have addressed me by my name a lot this morning. I like my plan and I think it'll work. Besides, he's a sucky ass baseball player. My goal is to get my best friend to become a WAG and being with him is not going to get you very far. He didn't even get a scholarship here. He was a walk-on!”

“I have literally only met that man one time and yeah I've said your name a lot because how do you wake up this unhinged!?”

“So? Love at first sight is an actual thing. I wasn't there, but I know it happened. And it's been that way since we were three.”

“And he did help me with my pull ups yesterday.” You told her as you shrugged your shoulders.

“I'm going to start planning the wedding when we leave. My class doesn't start until one today.” She replied as she smiled at you.

“I…-”

“What are you two going on about over here?” Your other friend Alisha asked as she sat her bag down to the left of her.

“Y/N is getting married to Joe Burrow! We have to start planning!”

“Erin, shut up!”

“Oh, but he's cute. Do you know if he has any brothers?” Alisha replied as she sat down on the other side of you.

“I.. don't but I will find out for you.”

“And slip them my number while we're at it.”

“He helped her during their workout yesterday. At this point, we can say it was their first date.”

“Erin telling everyone's business as usual.”

“Hey! I'm just good at storytelling! And he had the perfect view of your ass if he helped you with your pull ups now that I think about it.”

“Sometimes I honestly cannot believe you're my best friend.” You said as you couldn't contain your laughter anymore.

“And you aren't getting rid of me any time soon.”

Gymnastics practice was always long and draining so you knew what to expect every time. They typically lasted for three hours and when you were finished, you either got breakfast on campus or went back to your apartment to make something as Ja'Marr would also be blowing up your phone to feed him even though he was on an entire meal plan just like you were.

After taking a shower and throwing on some leggings along with an LSU sweatshirt and your converses, you started to walk out the building with Erin since Alisha had to hurry up to get to her class on time, when you spotted Joe.

Of course, Erin noticed too and squealed.

“Ooh, there goes your man!”

“Erin, be quiet! I don't want him to hear you! You are too loud for it to be eight in the morning!”

“Why not? And I'm always loud. I'm responsible for this love connection and I'm going to be the maid of honor. He NEEDS to know me.”

Joe had turned around and once he spotted you began making his way over.

“Oh shit, here comes your husband!”

“I hate you. I hate you so much right now.”

“You'll get over it.” Erin said as she smiled.

“Morning princess. Just got out of practice?” He asked as he came up to both of you.

“Morning and yes. Now I'm going to stuff my face. Oh Joe, this is my best friend Erin.”

“Hey Erin, pleasure to meet you.”

“You too and the pleasure is all mine.” She said and you couldn't help but laugh quietly to yourself.

“I was actually going to get food if the two of you wanted to come with me.”

“Y/N will go! I have class but she is free ALL MORNING. So I'm going to go and Y/N, I'll text you later. Have fun you two.” Erin practically yelled and you looked at her as if she was crazy.

“And then there were two. Where did you want to go to eat?” Joe asked as Erin had started to walk away.

“You're from Ohio, so you need to get a taste of some good southern cooking that makes you feel like you have just gained ten pounds.”

“Lead the way.”

“We're going on a little adventure off campus, my car is just over there. I think you'll like it.”

Less than a mile from campus was Louie's Cafe that had amazing breakfast as well as brunch foods. Anything that you could possibly think of they served.

On the ride over, the two of you just made small talk and when both of you had placed your orders for your food, you wanted to see how he was feeling for his first game that he would be playing in on Sunday because you already knew Ja'Marr was a nervous wreck.

“How are we feeling about Sunday? You nervous?” You asked as you took a small sip of orange juice.

“A little bit and I can admit it. I mean I played when I was in Ohio, but I was the backup. Now I'm actually starting. A lot of pressure on my shoulders and I feel like I have something to prove. I want them to be able to see that they made the right choice.” Joe told you and you were clinging to every word.

“But that's so exciting! What made you transfer here though out of all places?”

“I didn't want to be sitting on a bench for four years. I wanted to be able to play. I know that I'm good, but I just need a chance to show it.”

“Hmm, I do love a man with confidence. Well I'm very excited for you and my brother. I hate how you guys aren't playing here, but I'll make sure I'm watching.”

“Always confident, never cocky. And I'll try to get my first win as a starting quarterback for you.” He responded as he gave you a small smile.

“I can't wait to see it happen so once you get back here, we can celebrate. I can cook, so I can make you something.”

“I've been craving something my mom makes all the time, Snickers Salad.” Joe replied and you looked at him confused.

“Um? Is that an Ohio thing? Because I have no idea what that is.”

Joe nodded as he laughed and your waiter had set your plates down on the table in front of you.

“It is, but I can always text you the ingredients you need to make it. I figured you could do it justice since Ja'Marr never stops talking about how well you cook.”

“You need my number to be able to do that.” You Cheekily said, but he fired right back.

“Mine is in yours, already. I put mine in when we first got here since I want to be able to see more of these special spots you know about.” Joe confidently told you as he was pouring syrup on his banana pecan pancakes that had been recommended by you.

“I've literally only known you now for about 36 hours and I can say that I like being around you.”

“Good, because I like being around you too.”

Just then your phone rang and of course it was no one other than Ja'Marr.

“Pebbles! Are you at Louie's Cafe!?!? And you didn't take me!? I checked your location! I'm hungry too!”

“I took Joe instead because he doesn't get on my nerves like you do.” You told him as you stabbed your eggs.

“WAIT, you took Joe!?!?”

“Yes, say hi. You're on speaker.”

“Hey Ja'Marr.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.

“Joe, just make sure my sister gets me something to go. I'm about to starve messing with her ass.”

“I got you.”

“Bye, baby brother.”

“Wait! I didn't give you my order!”

“Text it to me, bye.”

Once you hung up and placed your phone back on the table, you looked back up at Joe to see him staring at you.

“When do you have class?”

“Not until one.”

“You want to do some more exploring with me? I feel that it's now my obligation as your unofficial tour guide.”

“I get to be around a pretty girl so I'm all for it.”

“Joe, you do know that I have a boyfriend right?” You asked as your face heated up.

“Someone as pretty as you, I'm not surprised. But what does that have to do with me?” He asked as he winked at you.

This is the first time in your life that you were speechless.

[rottiens]

✮ tags. (18+), fem!reader, bf!geto, established relationship, domesticity and fluff, reverse comfort if you squint, cockwarming, petnames (baby).

✮ wc. 1.5K

✮ notes. guys...I swear I didn't mean to do this smut, I swear this was going to be fluff,,

"Hey."

Suguru calls out to you from the door of the shared room, his shoes absent, his white shirt unbuttoned —his chest exposed to your eyes, very few scars, the one or two moles and a marked abdomen, along with a path of curly, dark hairs ending where his pants begin— as he carries his uniform jacket on his forearm.

Your eyes filled with life, you've been waiting for him all day.

"Come here," you call him softly towards the bed patting the mattress, setting the cursed techniques book aside to focus on him.

Suguru shuffles his steps across the floor of the room, his shoulders are slightly down, his hair as he approaches you can see it getting more and more disheveled, loose strands sticking out from every corner of the perfect bun that once existed.

"What happened?" You question him, Suguru was at that point crawling his body to the mattress like a worm. His face remains just above your bare thighs as he looks up at you from below with eyes full of love, your fingers comb a lock back behind his ear. "I only missed one day and this is your state, huh? You missed me that much?"

Suguru rolls his eyes, then closes them, letting himself be dragged down by the weight of exhaustion. His long arms wrap around your waist and you lie like that for a while, so silent you think he's fallen asleep until his raspy voice shakes you, taking you by surprise.

"I'm tired."

"You want to talk about your day?"

Another grunt. "It's just that being a teacher is harder than I thought."

"This is only your second week." You speak in the same sleepy tone as he does, almost as if you're seeking not to wake him up.

"Satoru makes it look so easy," he says, still with his eyes closed.

"You know this is fun for him. He doesn't take it as seriously as you do." You try to comfort him, still massaging his skull.

You get a glint from his brown eyes as he opens one eye for you, squeezing the other.

"Baby."

"Hm?"

"I'm getting hard." You stop yourself from stroking him all at once, he moans. "Don't stop. I'm sorry."

"I thought you were tired." You were confused… this wasn't unusual but still, you couldn't help but frown somewhat incredulously.

"And I am… but I'm so stressed lately, I'm late from killing curses and you're not here, I get up early and you're not in bed and, ugh."

"Hm?" you insist.

"I've been thinking about you all day," Suguru sighs.

You swallow, nervous because you know where this road leads —you've lived it a hundred times already— your caresses become a little unsteady in his hair and Suguru notices, drawing a smile in his unconscious. Your skin feels very sensitive to his touch, his warm fingers hugging your skin where the pajama top can't cover.

"What have you been thinking?" you venture to ask.

"You know exactly what I've been thinking," he murmurs, scrunching his face against the warm flesh of your thighs. "About you, about your hugs, about your mouth, about your kisses, about your hands on me…"

Suguru opens his eyes wide, smiling without showing his teeth and your heart, never able to have adjusted to his effect, leaps. He leaves the comfort of your lap to get up, Suguru throws his shirt on the floor and settles on the bed to wrap his arms around you from behind, you arrange your body so that the two of you form a perfect arc.

You knew what that position meant, but as if Suguru thought you were in doubt, he adds, "Let's get some sleep."

Are you sure?" It was six o'clock in the evening, sleep now meant waking up like wide-eyed owls in the wee hours of the morning. It meant making coffee to keep you awake until you had to go to work again because there was no way you could fall asleep again.

"Just a little bit," he says, not mentally reasoning the same points you are. You let it go because he really feels exhausted and you know what it means to him in that state to have your him keep you close.

Suguru settles in better behind you, his strong arms holding you close to his body, impossible to escape even if you wanted to. His face is hidden in your neck and the warmth of your boyfriend after so many days of being away feels good, his hands are on your tummy making circles that lead you to close your eyes.

Suguru moves closer to you, and though his breath on your skin makes you want everything more than sleep you try for at least a couple of long minutes, until you feel his arms stir like snakes in your body and move up to your breasts and squeeze. You lie still, wondering if he did it out of inertia until he does it a second time.

You groan, inevitably pushing into him, bumping into an erection that digs hard against your ass.

His calloused fingers search for your nipples on the fabric finding them instantly hard. Suguru sighs deep in your throat, squeezing your body a little tighter, the tips of his pearly teeth grazing your flesh.

"I thought you were sleepy…" you moan, throwing your head back, giving him the space he needs to suck on your skin.

"Shh," he shushes you with another insensitive squeeze to your nipples, Suguru didn't used to be so rough, but his actions only hid behind the desire when he missed you.

His fingers enter through your top and fiddle with your nipples, playing with them back and forth. You both continue the game for a while longer, him squeezing and tugging at them, you rubbing against his hard cock directly ruining your pajamas thanks to the non-existence of your panties.

"Put it in," you barble full of ecstasy, you feel him grinning near your collarbone.

"Already?"

"Yes, hurry."

"Are you wet?" he doesn't let you answer as he keeps talking— "Let me see… No panties," suguru emphasizes. Without asking permission, he reaches through the elastic of your shorts and positions himself with his middle finger between the soggy folds of your pussy. He rubs your clit, you blindly reach for his erection in an awkward position where you throw your arm back but he stops it; ceasing to knead your breasts to make it prisoner against your back.

You moan, wanting to touch him too, but all prayer is half-hearted the moment his hooked fingers expand your pussy. Suguru is fucking it with his digits, you are obscenely wet, you soak him to the knuckles, staining your own thighs in the process and the room fills with the sticky 'click click click' sounds along with the chorus of needy moans.

Suguru kisses your wet temple.

"I missed you," he admits, increasing the rhythm, his wrist beginning to cramp.

"I missed you more! Suguru.. stop, I don't want to-!"

You try to stop him by pushing his hand away from you but this doesn't help much.

"Condom," he says through gritted teeth.

"We don't have…" you hate yourself at that moment for forgetting to buy but he hates himself more.

Reluctantly Suguru pulls his fingers out of you.

"Fuck it," Suguru growls. You hear him unzip and pull down his uniform pants, just enough to pull his cock out. "Let me fuck you like this…" he asks, taking your cheek and pulling it apart, exposing your ass and pussy from behind, Suguru spits on his hand and fucks the swollen tip of his cock for a while, just watching you dripping and squeezing around nothing. "I'm gonna pull out.." Suguru promises falsely.

"Hm," you nod looking back spreading your legs wider for him.

You feel him at your entrance, rubbing all over your wet slit with his even wetter head. Suguru taps your sensitive clit with his stiff cock and slides in one shot inside you before you have time to beg him.

You can feel him trembling and it's desperate. He doesn't move and you want to scream.

"Baby…" you call out to him, looking back up at him and he tastes the desperation in your broken voice.

"Let's sleep like this." Suguru wraps his arms around your waist again to the same innocent position as before, only now you can feel it throb and fill you to a point where you can't breathe.

"Babe…" you call out to him again, this time he spanks you lightly.

"Don't move, you're going to make me cum."

"Suguru…" You whimper a third time and he mischievously gives a deep thrust of his hips.

"Stay still. Let me feel you." He returns to his original spot, massaging your breasts and tugging on your nipples, you moan.

"I love you," you sob, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you needed to stimulate your clit, that it was throbbing and that you clearly weren't going to be able to sleep.

For a brief flash you imagine if you could make yourself cum silently.

[happy74827]

You Must Be Haunting Me

[Brian Moser x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Even after a year, you’re still haunted by the Ice Truck Killer.

WC: 2643

Category: Angst, No Comfort {TW: Not Proof Read 😞}

I did another one!! Are you guys proud of me? 🥹

So, rewatching the season, I forgot how sassy he was so I wanted to really show off that aspect in this one. Then my patience was over it, so the ending is just kinda… bland. But it’s okay because it’s Brian (he seriously needs more attention FOR REAL).

Anyway, for those 14 Brian fans… this one’s for you 🫶

『••✎••』

The dark circles beneath your eyes. The way you can barely stand on your feet, your body so exhausted that you can hardly lift a finger to defend yourself. You’re like a walking corpse, and he's the one responsible for putting you in this state.

It started one year ago. One year ago, you moved to Miami and became the victim of a killer. It wasn't until his brother came along and put him six feet under that you began to heal and get back into the normal, everyday routine. But then he showed up.

It was one of those nights where you’d randomly get a jolt in your sleep. You sat up straight, the sheets pooling at your hips as you looked around the room. Your breathing was shallow, and sweat was beading on your brow. You felt a shiver run up your spine as you slowly laid back down.

"You sleep soundly."

His voice caused your heart to stop. You knew who it was, the same man who had terrorized you, who made your life a living hell. Slowly, you turned to your side, staring wide-eyed at the dark figure at the end of your bed. Your hands began to shake and tremble as you reached for the lamp on your nightstand.

"Oh, don't bother."

In an instant, with the sound of fingers snapping, the lamp's light went out. You could hear a chuckle coming from the intruder, and you were paralyzed, afraid to make a move.

I mean, it couldn’t be him, right? It was just some sick joke. He was dead. He couldn’t be here.

He couldn’t.

But, god, he looked the exact same. The curly dark hair, the pale skin. He was just a silhouette in the darkness of your room, and yet, you could tell that the grin he wore was the same grin that he had on the day you met him.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost." He mused, moving closer towards you. His weight caused the bed to dip slightly, and you could feel the fear begin to take over your body. "Should I start saying boo?"

Your throat was dry, and you couldn’t speak; all you could do was stare at him, frozen in place. He lowered his head in amusement and chuckled, leaving his lips once more.

It was when his eyes weren’t on you that broke you out of your daze. You shot up from the bed, nearly tumbling over yourself as you ran to the dresser, grabbing the nearest thing you could find and throwing it at him. It was a vase, one that held a bouquet of flowers, that shattered against the wall, causing him to look up.

"…Was that supposed to scare me?" He asked, raising a brow as he tilted his head, an almost bored expression on his face. "You’ve got the aim of a blind man."

"Get out of my house!"

The sound of your own voice startled you. Anger wasn’t necessarily the emotion you normally felt, but now it was the only thing that was running through you. Anger and adrenaline.

He stood from the bed, taking a step closer to you, the broken glass crunching beneath his feet. You didn’t care; you took a step back, holding your hand out as if it would stop him from coming any closer.

"Get away from me, you psycho."

He laughed. He actually fucking laughed.

"Psycho?" He repeated, "That’s a new one."

"Stay back." You hissed, feeling the tears well up in your eyes.

He took another step.

"Don't touch me!"

Another. He was only inches away from you now, and the thought of him being so close made you want to vomit.

The annoyed sigh he let out when he noticed your hand trembling was enough to set you off. You didn’t think twice; the only thought in your mind was to get him out, and so you did.

When he was walking towards you, your mind remembered the small kitchen knife that you left on the counter. Quickly, you ran past him, dodging his hands as he reached out to grab you, and grabbing the knife, and in one quick motion, you turned and stabbed him.

"That’s not going to—"

It went right through his chest. He stared down at the knife, then up at you, with that all-knowing expression.

He sighed again, "…work."

What the fuck?

In the next moment, he vanished, and the knife fell to the ground, the clattering against the linoleum floor echoing through the house.

For a minute, you thought it was a dream. That is, until he appeared in the chair beside you, his arms crossed, his eyes boring holes into your face.

"You can’t hurt me." He said, his tone flat, his eyes narrowed, "I can’t either. Not physically, anyhow."

You stared at him. He stared at you.

"I can fuck you up, though." He continued, "In many ways. Mentally, emotionally… The possibilities are endless."

"What the hell is this?" You questioned, your brows furrowing, "Are you some kind of— of, what, demented Casper?"

His expression was unreadable, but then again, he always had that look on his face.

"Casper? Wow, seriously? You remind me why I don't watch movies." He groaned, shaking his head.

"You didn't answer my question."

"And you won't like my answer."

"Try me."

"You’ve lost it." He shrugged, "Completely off the hinges, you know? And that's saying something, considering who you’re talking to."

"I don't—"

"Have a mental disorder."

"What?"

"That's what it's called. When someone has delusions of grandeur, where they think someone is after them. Someone, of course, meaning me." He explained, a grin spreading across his lips. "But, no. It's all in your head. Just. Like. Me."

The words sank in, and you stared down at the floor, your mind processing everything he was telling you.

"No, I'm not crazy." You murmured, mostly to yourself, but loud enough for him to hear.

"You're not? Well, how else would you explain me being here?" He asked, cocking a brow, "I’m dead, remember? My dear brother made sure of that."

"I—"

"And you know damn well I’d never wear this out of the office. It's not exactly the most flattering."

It was then you noticed what he was wearing.

He had his lab coat on. His entire outfit was the same thing he wore the day he met you. You were with Debra to question him about Tucci’s recovery and, god, if he didn't make the biggest impression.

It was pretty hard not to like him when he was giving one of his patients, a little boy, a lollipop from his jar and making a joke.

You remember telling Deb, 'What a nice guy'.

Oh, the irony. The fucking irony.

"What a nice guy." You found yourself repeating before looking him up and down, your lips curling in disgust. "You were just fucking with me the whole time, weren't you?"

He shrugged, "What's it matter now? I'm dead."

"It matters to me."

"Would you like me to apologize? To beg for your forgiveness?" He asked, a mocking tone in his voice, "Would that make you feel better?"

You were silent.

"Wouldn’t do anything." He continued, "And it certainly wouldn't change a thing. But, hey! By all means, you go right ahead and play pretend. Maybe then, you'll sleep better at night."

You scoffed. He was such a piece of shit.

"How much are you gonna torture me, huh?" You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, "Torture me like you did, Debra? Like your brother? Are you just going to follow me around like a bad smell? Make my life a living hell, like you did theirs?"

"I didn't torture him." He stated, a hint of malice in his tone, "He's my brother."

"Like that means shit."

"He was just like me. A lot like me, in fact." He went on, his eyes flickering over to you. "I could see myself in him."

"Well, he killed you." You countered, "That doesn't really seem like brotherly love."

"He did what he had to." He shrugged, "That Harry… he was a real piece of work, wasn't he?"

You were quiet again.

"And Debra?"

"A pain in my ass. Always sticking her nose in places where it doesn't belong." He replied, shaking his head. "But, then again, that was her job, wasn't it?"

"You broke her. You tore her apart." You snapped, the memories of the past year filling your mind. "She really loved you. She really did."

"I know."

"You don't care."

"Not at all." He said, the faintest hint of a smirk appearing. "Not in the slightest."

"Fuck you."

He laughed, his laughter filling the room before it faded out, leaving the both of you in a heavy silence.

He had a different aura around him this time. It might be the aura of a dead man, a hallucination. But he still felt so… present. Even his mannerisms were the same—the way he moved his hands, the way he tilted his head. His eyes still had that glint of mischief. It was so real.

So. Fucking. Real.

"If your just in my head, why can’t I just kick you out?" You asked, finally breaking the silence, "Make you go away."

"Because, even after a year, I still affect you." He answered, his voice low. "Even though you try to ignore it and push the memories back, I’ll always be there. In the back of your mind."

"Why couldn’t you be my dead childhood dog or something? Why do you have to be some crazy serial killer that ruined my life?" You said, shaking your head.

"I'm not boring."

"Neither was my childhood dog."

"Rocky didn't have a single interesting thing about him. All he did was drool and lick himself." He countered, his lips pursing.

"How the hell do you know— oh, fuck this. Just go away." You groaned, rubbing your temples.

He didn't respond, and the room was quiet. For a second, you thought he actually listened. Then, you heard him hum.

"Hm. No."

"Jesus Christ."

"Now, that's really a name I haven't heard in a while."

This was how it became. For months, you would have these random conversations with him, and no matter how much you tried, he would never leave. Everywhere you went, he was there.

Work.

Shopping.

Even at the damn bar.

You had no idea what this was. You didn't know if this was a side effect of the trauma you went through. Whether it was your mind trying to cope or just the result of a lack of sleep. Whatever it was, it was draining the life out of you.

You felt like a shell. Your coworkers knew something was wrong. The way your eyes were dull and lifeless, the dark circles, the slump in your shoulders.

They were concerned—except Debra. She was too concerned about the case to pay attention to anyone else.

You weren't really sure what day it was. Or month. Time was going by, and you were slowly dying mentally, as he put it.

"Is this because I can't sleep?" You asked him one night, staring at the ceiling, your voice hoarse, "Because I can't go to sleep without seeing your face? Or is it because I don't have the energy to live?"

"I would say both."

You groaned, throwing an arm over your eyes, "What did I do to deserve this?"

"It's not what you did." He replied, his eyes locked on yours, "It's what I did."

"Yeah, well, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

The two of you sat there in silence before he cleared his throat.

"How are things with my favorite bloodhound?" He asked a curious tone in his voice. "Is he still sleeping with that cute blonde, or did he wise up and break it off?"

"Rita. Her name is Rita." You corrected him, shaking your head, "She’s his girlfriend, not his flavor of the week."

"Hm."

"And, for your information, they're fine. Great, actually."

"How disappointing." He scoffed, leaning back in his seat. He genuinely looked upset, which caused a snicker to leave your lips. "What's so funny?"

"You are." You replied, looking over at him, "You're so pathetic."

He blinked.

"You're a dead man. Dead. How can you be disappointed about his love life?"

"I'm his older brother." He stated, his jaw tightening, "I want what's best for him."

"Really? Then why aren't you in his brain, harassing him?" You questioned, a smile coming onto your face, "You know what? I bet he's sleeping great. He doesn't have to deal with this. Not like I do."

"I would love to give him a good old-fashioned night terror. It'd be easy, too. He's not exactly the most stable." He replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But his brain is too messy. He's always been that way."

"I guess he takes after his brother."

"He took after our father. The one thing I did was make him forget about it." He retorted, his tone harsh, "Notice how he never talks about the old man? Or the past? Now it’s only me. That's because of me. I took him from that shitty childhood. I gave him a better life. A better everything. I could’ve given him the world."

You were quiet.

"Instead, he killed me." He spat, the venom in his voice obvious. "Because of that stupid, half-witted sailor mouth."

You honestly had to give your brain props for this one. He was too realistic. He was too Brian.

"You know what?" You began, sitting up, "I really am feeling a lobotomy."

At that, he actually laughed. Now that… that was different from the chuckles and snickers, this was a full laugh, something you haven't heard since you met him. It was loud, it was obnoxious, and it was the only thing you could hear.

It was the last thing you heard before the most amazing thing happened.

You fell asleep.

In the morning, you woke up to a pounding on your door and an annoying ringing. Groaning, you pulled the pillow over your head, hoping the noises would disappear. Instead, they only got louder, and you had no choice but to get up.

"Coming, coming!" You shouted, shuffling out of the bedroom and towards the door, the banging and the ringing still going on.

When you opened the door, you saw Debra.

"Good. You're up." She greeted, her expression annoyed. "Where were you last night?"

"Sleeping. What are you, my mom?"

"I called you. I even sent someone by your house. You weren't here." She stated, a slight bite in her voice, "And I'm not your mom, but if I were, I'd spank you."

"For what?"

"We have a meeting in five minutes." She said, checking her watch, "Get dressed. I'm waiting."

"Shit."

In record time, you threw on some jeans and a shirt, and within the next three minutes, you were out the door and in the car with Debra.

But as she pulled out of the driveway, he appeared directly in front of her.

"Hey, watch—"

But he only winked at you before disappearing. And at the time, you found it nothing but him being a prick. But, later on, you would realize.

This was the last time you would ever see him.

A month went by. And another. And another.

Then, a year.

The visions of the past still came. The thoughts of him were still there. The memories were still fresh. And sometimes, if you listened closely, you could still hear that laugh.

But you weren’t afraid anymore. You had no reason to be. And so, you moved on. You continued living because that's what he would've hated. And that made you smile.

Because, now, it wasn't him haunting you.

It was you haunting him.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 14 - Next

"Today you look much better."

You mentioned Curly smiling at you and resting your forehead against his.

"You've stopped smelling like a cremated corpse, it must feel so good to have clean bandages and your wounds disinfected."

You closed your eyes with a smile, enjoying being close to him without having to move away because of the overwhelming stench he used to emit.

Curly: "...I...wa...wann..."

You suddenly opened your eyes upon hearing the sound of a voice, leaned back, and fell backward to the ground with the chair and all.

"No! Don't you dare! Don't do that again! That scared me!"

You stood up and quickly adjusted the chair to sit back down in front of him.

You opened his jaw to see his tongue and pressed it with your thumb to be able to see his throat.

"Nu-uh, your throat is still damaged, don't talk, I don't care."

He let out a huff when you said that.

"Did you just huff at me??? In these conditions, are you giving me an attitude??"

For some reason, it seemed like he was enjoying your reaction.

"Oh, you like seeing me angry now?? What are you trying to do?" 

You raised your hands when you asked that question, and he kept staring at your left hand, letting out a murmur upon noticing the rings on it.

"Mm? This? I found it when I tried to see if anything could be useful from the cockpit..."

You looked at your hand, seeing the rings, you had almost completely forgotten that you had his with you.

You took it out slowly and showed it to him up close.

"Now I'm not so angry about the fortune you spent on these rings, if they withstood an explosion they are of very good quality."

You smiled at him, lovingly observing the ring, remembering the day he proposed to you and knowing that from that moment your life would change forever.

"Who would have thought we would end up like this? Mm? I can say it, when I was little I never imagined I would go to space. Although i did dream of a handsome husband"

You could notice a hint of sadness in the sigh he gave, quite aware of his current state and that he would never be the same man as before.

"Do you still have doubts? If I will still be by your side when we return home?" 

His gaze turned to you when you mentioned that, it wasn't a lie, he had been thinking about that possibility.

"Do you think the only thing that made me fall in love with you was your pretty little face? Can't you believe that I can still love you seeing you like this?"

You smiled, resting your forehead against his again, looking directly into his eye.

"I didn't believe it either, when you met me, I was a mess, a drug addict, disheveled, stinky, and with a terrible attitude, I have to admit it... But that didn't stop you from falling in love with me, did it?" 

He rolled his eye to try to avoid your gaze.

You put his ring back on your ring finger next to yours.

"The day he wants to leave you, I'll take off this ring, okay? Until then, I don't want you to worry." 

You kissed his forehead, ready to go get the rations for the day.

Curly: "...I... I- I'm sho-.rry..."

"What did I just tell you a few minutes ago?? Nothing to talk about." 

You crossed your arms and shook your head.

Curly: "...I lo..ve you..."

Hearing those words again after so long, your cheeks began to burn, you turned your face because you didn't want him to see you with tears in your eyes, about to cry from joy.

"Me too! Don't forget it!"

You mentioned loudly, quickly leaving that room, took a deep breath, and leaned against the wall, unable to believe you were reacting the same way as when he first told you.

Daisuke: "Captain, are you okay?"

"Ah-! Daisuke, don't just show up out of nowhere! What do you need?"

Daisuke: "Do you want to swap my meat noodles for your cheese ones?"

He smiled, showing you the package of his food; it seemed that Swansea had gotten ahead and had already distributed the rations.

"Sure, sure... Go change it."

Daisuke: "Thank you! You're the best!"

You sighed, resting your head against the wall.

"Just a little more... I'm already getting sick of that food... I need to cook something real..."

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Training Session

luke castellan x reader

A/N: had a cutie little request for this so i hope it delivers everything you wanted

WARNINGS: SMUT!, semi-public sex, knife kink, jealous luke, getting caught (oopsie)

WORD COUNT: 1,073 words

“You know, anyone in this camp would be bloody grateful to train with me.” Luke says as he shoves you to the ground with his shield after you cursed him out for about the fifth time during the sparring session.

“You’re an arrogant dickhead.” You snap at him as you pull yourself back to your feet.

“It isn’t arrogance if it’s backed up.” He states as he swings at you, barely giving you a chance to block the attack at your throat.

“Gods, Luke. You nearly took my head off!”

“I didn’t though, did I?” He continues on the offence before you see your chance and swipe at his feet. It was a good move but you don’t make any contact. “Finally.” He murmurs. “This was starting to get pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” You scoff, your anger rising. “If I had a dagger in my hands, you’d be dead in seconds.”

“At least I can handle a dagger. You look like a clumsy toddler wielding that sword.” He laughs, attacking you again and knocking the steel from your hands.

Was he just toying with you?

“I don’t know why I even put up with your shit.” You start to reach down for your sword, planning to collect your things and leave before you’re stopped by the feeling of the sharpest part of his blade against your throat.

“Training with me makes you better.” He says assuredly as he lifts your head with the tip of his sword until you’re standing straight. You don’t think he would cut you… but he might.

“I could also train with another man to make myself better.” You say snarkily.

His eyes darken and he grabs your arm to pull you closer to him, his sword is still held to your neck like he might slit it. “You won’t. No other guy can do what I can.”

“I could always try one out.” You say, sensing the possession in his voice.

“I won’t let you.” He growls.

“What are you going to do to stop me?”

Silence for 1… 2… 3 seconds and then his lips are smashed against yours. He carelessly tosses his sword to the side. It doesn’t matter nearly as much as what he is going to do to you right now.

“Luke,” You murmur as you pull away. “Someone is gonna see.”

He smirks. “You must really wanna kiss me if all you’re worried about is privacy. Besides, everyone is at dinner by now.” His lips chase yours as he tries to pull you in for another kiss.

“And we should be at dinner too.” You protest.

“No, we should be laying you down on the bench and getting out all this pent up tension.”

You have to admit that his strength from before was turning you on. What girl doesn’t like to be pinned down with a sword pressed to her throat… and another one pressed to her thigh.

“Someone will catch us.”

“Not if you’re extra quiet.” He keeps pecking tantalizing kisses to your lips that distract you as he lies you down on the bench.

“I swear to the gods, if someone sees us, i’ll kill you.” You murmur as he pulls off your pants.

“As is your right.” He smirks as he pulls down your panties, eyes zeroed in on your sticky sweet cunt. “Can I?” He asks, looking into your eyes eagerly and you nod.

Your cheeks flush at the way he eats you out. You can feel the absolute yearning in his tongue as your fingers thread through his curly locks.

“Good girl, baby.” He murmurs against your pussy as you try to keep the whining mewls from falling from your lips.

You know you have to be quiet but you’ve never felt such pleasure in your life. You end up biting down on your tongue when you hit your peak so you barely let out a sound.

“Fuck, you taste so perfect.”

 He moves back up to kiss you, looking ever so pleased with himself as he palms at your tits. You feel him pressing against your thigh once again.

“Let me fuck you now?” It’s phrased as a question but you hear the dominance in his voice.

“Hmm… I guess so.” You say playfully, as if you don’t need him so achingly.

“You think so? I’ll have you begging by the end of this.” Luke says and you feel his cock sliding through your wetness, collecting it as lubricant. 

It doesn’t even sting when he pushes into you, not with how desperately you want for him. He looks into your eyes again, gaging how you’re doing before he begins to thrust. You feel as if you’re being sent to heaven and back with each movement.

“You think another guy could fuck you this good?” He says as he starts to pound into you.

“No, Luke.” You whine with each slam of his hips.

“No man will ever train or take care of you as well as I can. I’ll kill the bastard who thinks he can match me.” He fucks into you so hard that you start seeing stars. “Say it. Say no man compares to me.” He commands.

“No guy compares, Luke… there’s only you.”

You squirm a little as he lifts one of your legs to hook over his shoulder. You aren’t sure if you can handle how much deeper he gets in the new position. His hand slips up your shirt now so he can feel your skin on his and the look on his face is angelic. Mortals compare beautiful men to Greek Gods all the time but Luke doesn’t look like just any half-blood; he truly does look like a god. You swear that if you saw Eros in person, he would be imaged after Luke himself.

“Mmm i’m gonna cum.” You breathe out.

“I know, baby. You can cum.” He coos, giving you the last thrusts you need before you’re squeezing around him. The pressure alone is enough to cause him to spill himself inside of you. “You did so well, princess, so well.”

He presses one more soft kiss to your lips before helping you to get dressed, whispering kind words into your ear as he does. All would have been fine and well… If Luke had a chance to pull his jeans back up before Percy walked around the corner.

“Hey guys, everyone is wondering whe- oh what the fuck.”

taglists (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread @kissingyourgrl @vikimontethegirlblogger @maryann2013 @stark-head @remussbitch @ever8ea @batmandabest @jennapancake @junos-web @tanifsblog @stupidtween  @10ava01

[avifaunaa]

i tasted ash and knew [ it was you ] [ r.v. ] [ pt.1 ]

Authors Note: My first Rio fic! Make sure to check the content warnings before reading further in case the content inside does not suit your taste! Otherwise please enjoy!

Some quick fun facts that literally none of you asked for but I added a lot of plot to a darksmutfic:

• I’m a former history major so some of this is based off of knowledge of what I know about time periods I studied and found special interest in

• Johnnie Ray was a popular artist in the fifties so I slipped him in for story ambience

• Only by 1955 did Americans, in half of their homes, have television sets. Up until then it was considered a bit of luxury with limited channels and times you could watch. You’d get static otherwise. Most homes had radios as their everyday media consumption.

• John Daly and the News was an actual television show broadcasted between 1953 — 1960 and is now what we know today as ABC World News Tonight

• Reader hinting that she and Rio shouldn’t talk so openly against how things are handled after the war is me referencing how the Second Red Scare [ Mcarthyism ] began to take an effect on the United States and how people ran their lives. Some actors, for example, would get blacklisted for the rest of their lives if they were accused of communism / socialism and found guilty even with denied claims from said actor.

Masterlist

PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Fem!reader

Summary: Rio Vidal broke the rules of her own nature only two times in her long existence — once when she allowed her and Agatha’s son to live long enough to love his mother and the second and last by finding you and taking a life for every year she allowed you to live. Centuries later this still held true . . . Only now Agatha was dead and she was angry. It was time you stop running from her.

Content Warnings: Dark — be warned in advance and take care of yourselves! This has flashbacks that occurs between 1943-1953 but details about World War II itself are very vague. Some mild period-typical gender norms in terms of roles and clothing during flashbacks. Mentions of abuse / abusive marriages, angst, death, manipulation, threats of violence, stalking, choking, misuse of magic ( Rio ), housewife R ( and encouraged by Rio 😭 ), kidnapping, somnophilia, non-con, cunnilngus ( r!receiving ), face grinding ( Rio!receiving )

Word Count: TBA

Rio rarely found it in her to feel anything other than passive nonchalance when she came for them. A hand held out expectantly, a knowing expression that made no room for desperate pleas, and she took another soul away from this plane she stalked for her souls.

Children were the worst to come for and made that choice even more difficult for Rio. Death did not care who it struck or why — she was only able to ensure the balance of the universe stayed intact by orders greater than her.

She loved Agatha and Nicholas though . . . Enough that she stayed away from her lover for the amount of time she had promised their son could adventure the Earth as short as it may be.

She loved Agatha enough to take him while she slept with him curled tight in her arms where he was the absolute safest he could be. Nicholas was all Agatha with his curly hair and serious eyes, but Rio liked to believe there was part of her in him as she took his hand and took him to her home.

Agatha evaded her incredibly well after Nicky’s death, doing her best to leave no traces and not stay in one place for too long.

Rio decided that Agatha wouldn’t be able to forgive her — if not forever then at least for now. So she stopped trying and allowed Agatha to grieve and slowly move on in her own impossible way.

Rio met you in 1945 during a high stress time for the world. It was wonderfully busy in that she was everywhere more than usual. A war just ended and wars made Rio’s life both miserable and fulfilled with the amount of workload she took on.

You were an unfortunate case and barely hanging onto your single thread of life. She could see it glowing from your chest, flickering in and out . . . As if it would be snuffed at any second should the wind blow right.

Her instincts told her it was your time but everything about the surroundings were telling her that nobody else agreed.

But why? She’s seen it millions of times in different cultures and centuries. A life had a time limit and she knew when that time ended even if they didn’t — or didn’t agree with it.

Rio’s entire instinct told her to take this soul and move onto the next so she could keep the balance moving and not disrupt the will of the universe that held them all together.

But she didn’t. She waited unseen in a corner and watched you as nurses came in to check on you, refilling your untouched water pitcher and cleaning you up. You still barely hung on, her eyes keeping locked onto the thrumming flow of life that beckoned her.

She finally stepped forward to get a closer look at you, tilting her chin down through her hood and taking note of every small detail that put you in her ledger for collection.

You were a battered woman more than anything, and she let her fingers drift over you to get a feel of your energy.

Her hand ripped back to her side at what she felt within you. You remained nearly lifeless and unconscious in the bed but your soul was very, very angry. It was a black pool of oily rage and despair that Rio was usually able to cleanse once she took them but . . .

She took your lifeline in her palm, feeling the warmth seep into her cold skin as it stuttered more as she grasped it.

She pressed a thumb into it as though it were something physical and willed a demand — live. I shall not take you today.

For a moment she wasn’t sure how her magic would treat your soul once they interacted. But more stuttering was soon filtered out like a street lamp, giving way to a soft and steady glow.

Rio smiled and released your lifeline, allowing it to lazily float back toward you where it retook its place reaching for her out of your chest.

Rio might be Death and she may hesitate to break rules on most days — but you were the exception she was going to see through and hope she didn’t regret later.

1943-1952

Rio left you soon after. She had to take a soul in your place and had others that needed her attention besides.

But she frequently returned to you with a pull she could not ignore. Your recovery was slow and painful, and she watched invisibly as you cried to your mother and father about your husband — the man you claimed was the one who caused your near death.

It filled her with something raw and visceral when she followed you back home to him. A drunk man who had no boundaries and no respect for the life he was given — nor yours.

She decided to wait a couple of years for the world to cool down from the anguish that it was trying to recover from. But she watched as you suffered with him and tried to keep your distance in order to avoid pain.

In 1952 Rio decides to play dress up. She comes to your beautifully decorated home and sickeningly pretty flowered garden in an outfit that women are scolded for daring to try on.

Slacks and a blouse with her hair styled for the time even if it wasn’t in her taste. She was going to play a partial role — but she had a plan and will see it through.

Rio knocked on your door so that there would be no question of a visitor, hands sliding into her pockets not long after as she waited.

She was not kept long.

The door opened and there you were pretty and smiling — even if Rio knew what the depths of your soul actually contained.

“Oh,” you said by greeting, hand going to your chest. “Hello there. Hi.”

“Hello,” Rio greeted back politely. “I moved in a few houses down and have gone about introducing myself to the neighbors. I want to build a community around me.”

You pursed your lips in surprise. “I didn’t know we had a house for sale,” you mused aloud, but waved your hand, “Oh, but who cares? Welcome to Westview.”

“My name is Rio, Rio Vidal,” Death greeted, sliding a hand out for you to take. If you were caught off guard by the invitation, you did not show it. You grasped her hand and shook it and relayed your name back even though she knew it well.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” you said, still smiling. You gestured and stepped aside in your entry way, showing Rio the bright yellow walls and decorated room behind you, “Would you like to come in? I’ve been trying a hand at making a cake and I’m unfortunately not doing so good.”

Rio took the invitation and entered your home, laughing breathily at your statement. “A woman who can’t bake? Not a sight I see often.”

You shut the door behind you both and grew shy under the observation. “I was never great at it,” you admit as you started through the entry way and leading her through the living room. It was quiet.

“No husband?” she questioned aloud, noting the empty recliner diagonal to the newest television set that money could buy. Expensive taste for even a well earning home.

“One,” you called back when you reappeared from the entrance to the kitchen. “He works all day at the plant in Eastview. He just got promoted.”

“Eastview,” Rio murmured. “Isn’t that a bit of a drive?”

You smiled weakly. “Sure, but it’s good income. He works hard and keeps us fed. Come, I’ll prepare lemonade.”

Rio allowed herself to be guided into the kitchen that smelled like a bakery. Black and white checkered floors, green cabinets and brand new red chairs and a table set. If not good at baking you at least had good style.

You were pulling out a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge and she wandered close to you. “It smells good.”

You glanced up at her from your pouring, “You came right as I was putting my third attempt in the oven. Hopefully it doesn’t burn this time. I admittedly bought store-made icing.”

Rio grinned, “My lips are sealed.”

You chuckled as you pushed her a glass of lemonade and took your own in two hands, clutching it close. “So . . . You have no husband of your own?”

Rio leaned against the mint-colored counter and twirled her glass. “Afraid not. Lost him to the war in ‘43.”

You frowned as an expression of sympathy started to cross your features, “Two years before that deadly disaster ended, too. I’m truly sorry he didn’t make it home.”

Trap set and bait laying with prey lured, Rio continued with a faux tremble in her hands, “They don’t tell you what to prepare for if they don’t come home. Don’t give you much in return for the price they pay for the country. How fair is that?”

Your lips thinned slightly. “No, I’d rather say the bets we place are never worth it.” A pause, full of hesitance. “But we shouldn’t talk so queerly about such things.”

Rio curled her fingers inward toward herself despite her grip on her glass. She was probing for information mostly — where she could poke holes and find weakness. The end of the war left a fear of things they didn’t understand . . . And politics became a large aspect of society as soon as the world began picking itself back up.

Rio reveled in the chaos and enjoyed — with no shame to be found — watching humans try and control their societies in endless cycles of vitriol and greed masked by different ideologies they claimed were better than the last.

It kept her in a job.

“Of course,” she finally said with a hint of emotion. “My apologies. I’m afraid my heart has been hardened by experience.”

You softened slightly, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “Of course. I can’t imagine the suffering you’ve endured — I just — I’m sure the country is thankful.”

Rio bit down a response that would get a rise out of you. She wanted to see that anger she felt in your soul when she initially came for you that day.

She couldn’t feel it just from standing here and pretending to be a sad widower of a war. It was difficult to get a feel on you in general right now — unless she pushed her magic and coerced them out of you.

A brief quiet fell over the two that mostly consisted of sipping lemonades and listening to Johnnie Raye’s alluring voice sing through the radio that was situated near the entryway of the kitchen on the counter.

“So,” Rio drew out and set down her glass. Hardly touched — just enough to make you believe she dare partake in such things, “Little ones?”

You smiled again but a sad gleam overtook the look this time. “No, no children.”

You didn’t go into detail and Rio decided that this topic was one she could let go until later either by finding out through her own means or getting to know you in this fashion.

“Well it looks like we could both use a friend at least,” the brunette said as her gaze turned to stare out the window for a brief moment. “The world can be entirely too lonely for women these days and I’m inclined to find ways to fight it.”

You perked up slightly at her veiled offer and bit your lip. “I’d love to be your friend.”

2024

Your neck was aching in a way that it hasn’t for a very long time. A subtle throb just below your hairline that felt deep inside of your muscles.

You told yourself it was just an ache — the magic she had worked on you was disintegrated and nothing more than a reminder of a past long dead.

But the ache did not relent when you woke up the next morning, or the next after that.

You began to wonder if the witch you paid to remove all the magic in your body was a fraud a week after the ache started.

You simply ignored it and went about your daily life even as it throbbed dully beneath your skin like a timer set to go off at any given point.

It started giving you headaches and then the nausea set in after that.

Pointedly, you continued to do absolutely nothing for it. Anxiety was shoved into a small lockbox and the key was dropped into the dark depths of your brain to be forgotten as you sealed the blinds for the night and went about prepping dinner.

Onions splayed out on a cutting board next to other ingredients ready to be prepped. A dinner for one but a pleasant distraction to keep your hands busy. You propped your phone up against the wall to listen to a podcast while you began peeling the onions.

Flowers for your parents graves and a visit to your nieces’ retirement home, you reminded yourself through the busy chatter of the podcast and stripping of the outer layer of the onion.

A shattered vase?

You stopped peeling and stopped breathing. You listened, drowning out the sound of your phone and focusing on background noise that may come next.

You quietly set down the onion and curl your fingers around the hilt of the knife you had set aside. You tucked it close to your side as you stepped silently to the entry way of your kitchen to look out into your living room.

Indeed your vase was shattered off of the display case where it had previously been sitting. An antique but not one you were invested in, really. The carpet was wet from the water that kept the flowers fed and the flowers themselves were scattered in the shards.

As you approached the mess and kneeled down to set about starting to clean it up, you tossed the knife to the side for now and got the shards out of the way first.

You ignored the alarms in your head. The warning signs that were so large and so close that they were nearly impossible to ignore.

You released a shaky breath and threw away the shards in the kitchen. You gathered yourself momentarily and repeated your mantra, “She isn’t coming back, you’ve gotten away,” enough to almost believe it.

You return to the living room to take care of the ruined flowers and clean up any leftover petals and leaves.

Even when you gathered the crumbled flowers and found a perfectly intact green rose aligned in the middle of them.

The thorn cut your thumb open and left a wound that bleed for two days.

Five more days continued on after that slower than the thick molasses that your grandmother used to make when you would visit her home as a child.

You visit your parents in Westview once you’re sure activity of magic has disappeared. You knew the Scarlet Witch had contained the once lovely and beautiful town and used it to create something for herself she was believed she had the right to.

It’s been months — hell a year even. The news claimed that Maximoff had disappeared without a trace and left no one worse for wear after defeating an unknown threat.

The graveyard was not maintained in the hostage situation. Overgrown and some older stones beginning to degrade from age and lack of care, dead and wilted flowers not cleared or replaced with new ones by thoughtful visitors.

You trudged through it all and for once you could not ignore the agony in your neck. It was allowing the pain of the physical or the pain of your heart — and you didn’t think you had it in you to feel anything but the inclosed walls you built for yourself.

You kneel onto your knees once you reach the matching headstones. Moss was starting to grow on the edges and inside the grooves — but you let it stay. You started pulling out the decayed flowers from the in-ground flower holder, tossing them aside and dusting off the area.

“Still so attached to the past,” a husky voice mused in no one direction. Your head jerked up and you began to look around, palm resting on your father’s headstone for support. A cheerless — but darkly amused — laugh. “You tend to it like a garden or a herd of sheep. Maintaining its needs and working on it like it’s keeping you afloat.”

You used your free hand to rub your forehead. You couldn’t see anything — the voice was clear as day and that is what had you spinning.

“Angel with stone wings, angel with no reach,” the sultry lilt continued. Your eyes locked onto the damp statue of an angel feet away, eyes echoing endless depths of nothingness.

You forced your eyes back to the graves. Your hands were shaking as you continued to clear them, hands aggressively tugging the weeds from around the stone.

“Oh sure, ignore me. That’s worked out for you just as much as burning your leash off has.”

“This is a figment,” you responded out loud.

Large, aged oak trees swayed angrily around you in turn and howling winds scraped against your skin. You needed to make sure of it — ground yourself before you lost yourself in the delusion.

Your knuckles slammed into hard stone, pressing until they turned white and stung from the impact. Your breathing was heavy and your ribcage felt like it was being grabbed from the top of your spine and pulled backwards.

“You really thought that your little magic trick could defy the sigil of Death, angel?” You could imagine her face. Mocking, smirking with full teeth and eyes gleaming with predatory intent.

She wasn’t here.

And then it felt like you had a rope thrown around your throat so tight that you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. The force of it sent you sailing onto your back, feet kicking, gasps sounding out into empty air.

Your hands flail upward in animalistic instinct, clawing at your neck.

Nothing was there. Nothing was there. You opened your mouth more, to breath, to scream, to —

The pressure left as quickly as it was there. You turned over and dug your fingernails into the damp ground, getting into your knees and breathing in as much air as your lungs would allow.

A billow of green and black took up your line of sight as your vision began to clear. It decreased its length toward you with lazy speed and only stopped when you were inches from the fabric.

The figure crouched and a cold hand took your jaw to tilt your head up. Your stomach became a pit of liquid when you saw exactly who it was above you — and she was no figment.

“Hello, angel. Thank you for walking into my trap. I didn’t want to have to hunt you down.”

1953

You slam on Rio’s front door despite the crudeness of it. It was cold and your tears were freezing over on your cheeks. You were numb and you needed . . . Comfort. Something. Anything.

The door opened almost immediately to your best friend. She had a lazy smile that quickly fell once she saw you.

“Angel,” she offered a soft crow, “what happened? It’s dark out and you should be at home right now."

Your throat bobbed and you manage to cup your mouth before a loud, ugly sob can escape and wake the entire neighborhood. "Oh, God, Rio."

Now her eyes flickered with alarm. Dark swirls of it as she stepped forward and immedately wrapped two arms around your shoulders and tucked you close. "Let’s get you inside. Come on.”

Her voice soothed you as she guided you into her home and you remained unaware of the malice that crossed her features as she glanced outside at the street for any sign of threat before closing the door.

She sat you on her couch in front of her television. She was watching John Daly discussing the news on the black and white set with his stoic professionalism.

“Do you want a glass of water? Ginger ale?” Rio questioned and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

You glanced upward at her. Your fingers twisted into your dress and you crossed your ankles, pressing them into the couch as you sat up straight and stiff.

“Yes please, if it’s no trouble,” you murmured.

“I wouldn’t have offered if it was.” You ignored the odd quip, having gotten used to Rio’s strange ways by now. Most of your neighbors wives’ — when you met for the monthly update while husbands drank and played cars — found her to be much to odd for comfort.

You didn’t mind. She wasn’t nosy like the other women were and didn’t have the tendency to berate you about how you iced your cookies or strung your laundry on the line when laundry day came. She took little interest in petty gossip and didn’t prod for details about why no children came to fruition within your marriage.

Perhaps that is what drew you to the long-haired widow while the others felt repelled by her.

Your brain was lost in this forest of thick fog and thoughtless wander so deep that you jumped when a cold glass was brushed against the back of your clenched hands.

Rio said nothing about it; she simply waited until she was satisfied that your water was safely in hand before sitting down in the chair next to the television. She reached over and twisted the dial until it flickered off.

“What happened?” she asked plainly, picking something off of her finely fitted pants. Waisted pants today that ended at her ankles, fitting her loosely. Some days she wore styles that mothers would roll in their graves over — a man’s wear.

Today she decided on a more fashionable approach in women’s attire, it seemed. The pants were dark blue in color with a cream long sleeved shirt tucked in.

You tried to focus on her question, but answering it meant you had to tell her in the first place. In doing that — in doing that you would be left in a situation where you could break down completely.

“Hey.”

She was next to you as if by magic. Her hand rested on your knee lightly. Her hand was cold. Anytime you were together she always seemed to be cold . . .

Your mind started melting into itself again but a finger directed your chin to meet Rio’s intense gaze. It was a gentle gesture, but also a command. One of her eyebrows was raised questioningly.

“Angel,” she says, a low noise in her throat, “I can’t help if you won’t tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Your fingers curled as tight as the glass would allow, as tight as your grip could be. “My husband,” you started, a stuttering whisper fading after it. You couldn’t bear to finish.

Her features remained unchanged, but her head tilted. She let her finger brush away from your chin as she moved that hand over yours on the glass.

“What about him?” she asked.

“He’s — the factory owner called, you see. Told me I had to get to the hospital as quickly as I could.”

It was a terrible, bloody mess. They didn’t let you back into the room to see him because of the severity and instead had her wait until the doctor could come and speak with her privately.

You weren’t in tears at all — the nurses had commented. You were being very brave. You must be so scared.

You could only nod at them, smile shakily maybe.

You did cry when they asked you to sit down to tell you that he did not survive their attempt at surgery. It was a machine incident, they said. It broke down during use and your husband was the one on the line during the process.

You sobbed like a stricken wife, now widowed and left by herself. The nurses came to comfort you, offer tissues and take you somewhere quiet.

You weren’t devastated.

You were so relieved.

You felt like you would go home that night and not have to worry about if doing the dishes would be what set him off.

You could make a meal and not sit in a silence that you feared ended in another bruise to cover up for a few weeks.

Your husband was never good at cleaning up his messes. That’s what you were there for. That’s what his lack of complaints at the extra makeup in your grocery bags meant.

“He’s dead,” you choked out loud for the first time. “He had an accident . . . And . . .”

“Hm, I see.” Rio did something else and tucked you close into her side. She started stroking your hair and you took on the comfort even if you weren’t used to it. “It saddens me to see you so upset.”

Over him, she didn’t add. She didn’t need to with her tone.

“It’s just . . . Oh, you may find me very crass if I tell you what’s been heavy on my heart.”

Rio grasped your chin firmly and quickly, forcing you to meet her eyes. Her lips were thinned and she said with a steady, stern tone, “I could never think you crass. We are both outcasts in our own way in this world we’ve been born into. Whatever you tell me will change what I think of you — would you like me to swear it?” She paused. “On your God?”

You pulled back briefly, but her hand went with your tug. She had a tight grasp on your chin and wasn’t letting go, determined to keep your attention.

“My God?” you echoed, visible confusion coating your features.

She didn’t give you a response. Perhaps she felt as though she had been clear enough even if you felt entirely puzzled.

She tapped your cheek with her index finger. “Admit to me your heart’s truths, angel.”

The sick feeling in your stomach — the way you liked how she spoke to you, touched you . . .

Her touch suddenly felt like the hottest flames and you snapped out of the foggy daze. You were too close, she was too near. Everything about this broke the law of nature.

“I’m glad he’s dead.” Your mouth snapped shut and she allowed you to jerk away from her grasp to the other end of the couch. You hadn’t . . .

Why did you say that.

Rio’s lips were painted black today. An unusual color to decide on and very much not within the fashion of today. Your catalogues and magazines always pointed at which colors to lean into and which to avoid. Black lipstick was hard to find and it was often discouraged; it was seen as unappealing and unapproachable.

Rio wore it like she owned it and you hated that you seemed to tingle and grow hot in ways your husband was unable to do.

She tapped her chin with her nails, lips quirking into a small smirk. “Oh, my my. A wife who grieves not for the loss of her dear husband — her protector in life and guardian . . . But perhaps the comfortable lifestyle he provides?”

Your lips trembled. “How dare you,” you whispered, flushing from the neck up from the shame. She was right. She was right and you hated it. “That’s so mean to . . .”

“Stop with the act, angel.” Rio leaned back into the cushions, one leg crossing over the other. “Own how you feel for once. Take that relief and dig deep — see what else you’ll feel.”

The water glass had grown slippery in your palms. Either from how sweaty you got or from the melting ice. You were glad for the cold it provided, to keep you from floating away.

You sipped at it in quiet and refused to talk to her. Childish, perhaps. But what you couldn’t do right now was face what she was shoving in front of you: that you feared for your comforts as creaturely as they may be. You were raised to be a housewife and your parents didn’t know how to encourage much else.

You weren’t an educated woman — and didn’t have the money to become one.

“You’re depressing me,” Rio stated, slapping her hands on her knees. You jumped. Her head tilted low and she regarded you with something that should have sent you running, “I’ll keep you safe and pampered, angel. Sell your home, move into mine. I have three extra rooms. I could use a woman’s touch.”

“You’re a woman.”

A feline grin was your first reply. Then, “A working one.”

You supposed you could have realized that in the time she’s been around. No husband, widowed — how else would she have managed on her own without?

“It would . . . Isn’t it rather odd to have two women together? Especially one as a housewife?”

“We’re widowed, angel,” Rio reminded her as she removed the empty glass from your hand and set it on the coffee table. “Gossip will see a sad woman who need comfort from another woman who knows what it feels like. You will be truly devastated, simply unable to recover normally.”

You licked your lips and glanced around. It was darker in certain corners and the living room lacked color. “. . . Everything has a fine coat of dust,” you mumbled.

Rio laughed, standing and pulling you with her. She leaned forward and for a moment you held your breath, scared . . . Perhaps maybe filled with anticipation, as she did. Soft lips brushed your cheek.

“It’s a very good thing I just found myself a housewife to fix that.”

2024

The ache was gone — you could come to understand that as feeble awareness started to come to you in bloated masses.

Your body felt heavy and as though it had been pressed through your mother’s clothes wringer. Should you open your eyes? Would that even matter right now if all you could do was lay there and try not to vomit?

A sudden wave of pleasure that seemed to hurt coursed through you, and you let out a garbled moan as your body lifted and your hand frantically reached down to find the cause.

A soft, breathy chuckle greeted you against your wet pussy as your hand messily gripped hair and pushed the figure against you instead of pulling away.

“Mph.” Rio. It was Rio — she was — you ground your face down as her tongue delved deeper rather than pulling out of you to speak to you. You kept your eyes screwed shut — not wanting to see her but chasing that high she was making you seek out.

Her sharp nails gripped your bare ass and squeezed, nose rubbing purposefully into your clit as she used your body like an old instrument she pulled out of the closet.

It had been so fucking long and yet she knew you so goddamn well. Like it hasn’t been damn near seventy years and she hasn’t collared you with her magic and trapped you again.

With more force and anger driving you, you rode her face harder, knowing Death needn’t breath and how too entirely much she enjoyed the goddamn desperation she could soak up from you.

It flipped like a switch. One moment you’re angry and chasing something that you don’t want and the next you’re clawing at the brink of your orgasm like it was being veered over the edge of a cliff for years.

You cursed and kicked, but Rio saw the entire thing through. Only when your shivers eased and grip loosened did she come up for uneeded air, smug and eyes twinkling.

“Welcome home, angel.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you breathed, shoving her away with a shaky foot and sitting up on your thighs.

Then she was behind you, leaning over your shoulder with a weighted hand on the back of your neck. “I am going to enjoy seeing you try.”

Rio and reader will return in Part Two

PART TWO

[darknight3904]

Picture to Burn

Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader, Handsome Mystery man (in tags) x Fem!Reader

Summary: After getting ghosted by Tommy Miller, you're in the market for a new man. The perfect hunting grounds? The loud, overcrowded dive bar, of course.

Warnings: Language. Reader's age isn't stated, but is legal to drink in the U.S.

Inspired by Taylor Swift's Picture to Burn.

Word Count: 1.6k

Austin, Texas

To be blunt, you hated Tommy Miller. 

From his deep southern drawl and dark curly hair to the brown leather cowboy boots he always wore, you hated him more than anything else on this planet.

Of course, it wasn’t always like this. 

You’d met him one night at the Travis County Summer festival under the neon lights of the funnel cake stand. He’d charmed you, made you laugh about how over priced the food was and then proceeded to buy you a twelve dollar funnel cake and a coke to wash it all down. Then, he proceeded to slip his number into your back pocket of your jean shorts, giving you a wink to go with it. Three days later you were laughing over a margarita while he sipped at a beer at the local Olive Garden. 

Then came a two month whirlwind of nothing but Tommy Miller. You spent so much time with him, you barely saw your own family, always rushing to kiss your mom and dad goodbye in the living room before happily skipping out to the old red pickup your handsome boyfriend drove. 

It all seemed perfect, long country drives with the windows down and the radio turned up, Tommy’s hand resting on your thigh as you talked his ears off about anything and everything. 

Of course nothing good ever lasts forever and one day he just ghosted you. Poof! It was like he didn’t even exist at all and you’d made him up entirely. You waited longingly at the phone, staring at it like you could force it to ring. Then, you’d lay in bed, wrapped up in your misery as you shoved down another bite of your favortie ice cream. Eventually, your mom get fed up with her child moping around the house like the slugs that lived in the garden out back and sent you out for a girls night with friends. 

“He’s a boring old redneck heartbreaker! There’s plenty of fish in the sea!” 

“Remember how you hated when he wouldn’t let you drive his truck? That thing is like 20 years old and he wouldn’t even let you sit in the drivers seat!”

You sniff and nod, disgesting your friends words as you lean against the bar top. You did hate that stupid old pickup truck Tommy drove around, swearing that you couldn’t drive it for fear of you wrecking it.

“We should totally burn those pictures you have on your wall of him! Bet your dad would even light a campfire for us if we told him, he hates Tommy.”

Your friend was right, your dad did hate Tommy for dissapearing from your life. In fact, you were sure that if Tommy showed up on your front porch, your dad would be chasing him off the property, shotgun in hand. 

“Enough moping around! You need a rebound. Which is why, I took some liberties and got in contact with the hottest guy ever and invited him here.” 

Your friend motions to the crowded bar around the three of you, her hand patting your back with a wide smile. 

“But, aren’t you a lesbian?” Your other friend blurts out, the drinks making her bolder and chatty.

“Pssh” She waves her off, “Trust me, this guy is hot. Hot enough that even I can tell he’s every straight girl’s dream...and probably every gay man's. Anyway, I met him after I rear-ended his car out on I-53.” 

You roll your eyes and groan, “You invited a man whose car you hit to a bar to what? Charm my pants off?” 

“If a one-night stand is what you want, I’m sure he’d be down for that. He looked like he definitely fuc—” 

You cut her off with a gasp, eyes fixed on the other patrons of the bar. Just a few feet away, Tommy Miller was leaning across the bar, ordering a drink with that boyish grin of his. They follow your wide gaze, instantly recongizing you from the little polaroids you kept pinned up on the cork board in your room

“You got to fucking kidding me.” 

“I’ll kill him, hold my purse.” 

You grab both of your friends by the arm before they can jump a man that probably has a good 60 pounds on both of them, “Stay. Put.” 

The three of you watch closely as Tommy is handed his order, two drinks in his hand as he spins around to hand one of them to a girl, one with pretty brown hair, all dolled up in a nice face of makeup and a cute outfit. Just a few weeks ago that had been you. A pit opens up in your stomach not because you’re jealous of the girl, it’s not her fault the fucker who was smiling at her was a piece of shit. Oh you were so going to rip him apart before this night was over. 

“Oh my god! He’s here!” Your friend gasps, smacking your arm a bit too hard as the lumbering figure of a guy, or well, man, walks in. 

She waves and he nods, weaving around the other patrons as she slowly makes his way towards you. 

“You didn’t tell me you invited a fucking mountain man to this!” You groan 

The mystery man was as handsome as your friend said. A nice green flannel that was rolled up to his sleeves and dark blue jeans to match. A beard adorned his face and his hair was a perfect mess of curls and what looked like a hint of greys. He was certainly older than you but fuck, he was really hot. 

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re not into him.” 

Just as the stranger reaches you your friends conveniently disappear into the bar, abandoning you on your stool. Christ you hopped they weren’t going to run off and kill Tommy. That was your job afterall. 

“So you’re the heartbroken girl m’ supposed to cheer up tonight.” The flannel clad stranger says smoothly as he slides onto the stool beside you. 

“Guilty.” You hum, sipping at your long island ice tea, “Sorry about my friend, she said you rear-ended you.” 

He waves you off, “My truck didn’t even have a scratch, that little car of hers though…dunno what she called it but it’s probably totaled.” 

“The car’s name is Barry.” You laugh, “Barry the Beetle. That car was an actual shitshow on wheels, your truck did it a favor.” 

“Yeah Barry is out the pasture.” The guy jokes a nice smile adorning his face

You’re about to ask him his name but the bartender interrupts and your mystery man orders a rum and coke. 

“How’s the long island?” He asks 

“Not bad, kinda watered down now.” You say honestly, staring at the condensation thats slipped down the glass and onto the bar top. 

“Let be buy you a new one then. Pretty girl like you deserves a fresh drink.” 

Before you can stop him, he’s ordering you your drink, and the bartender is placing it in front of you, a pretty red straw sticking out of the top. 

“So, tell me about this guy that broke your heart. Must be a fuckin’ idiot leaving a sweet thing like you.” He hums, sipping his drink 

Before you can help yourself you’re spilling everything about Tommy. Telling this stranger about how perfect everything had been before you’d been ghosted, not a word in the wind since. 

A low whistle escapes the man next to you, “Whatta piece o’ shit. What was his name again? Y’said it at the beginning but I didn’t catch it.” 

“His name is Tommy.” You huff in annoyance at just the thought of him. 

The man nods, “Young guy I presume.” 

You nod sadly sipping at the fresh drink. He was right a fresh one was better than your half water one. 

“Figured. Younger guys, they don’t know how t’ treat girls like you. Bet your daddy is real pissed with this guy.” 

“You have no idea.” You laugh, “I’m pretty sure he’ll shoot him down if he ever sees him again.” 

“Wouldn’t blame him. I’d do the same if I had a daughter.” 

You flirt the night away with this man, Your friend was right, another guy was just what you needed to get Tommy out of your system. And this guy? Or well man, was something else. He practically exuded the term southern charm. And Jesus was he the definition of eye candy. Tanned skinned and muscular forearms, broad shoulders that brushed yours when he leaned in to hear you a bit better over the loud music that had started playing. 

“Ah shit,” He suddenly says, “Forgot to give you m’ name, what kinda gentleman am I, sweetheart?” 

You laugh, leaning in closer, “It’s fine. Well not fine, tell me or I might think you’re secretly an axe murderer.” 

“Not an axe murderer.” He chuckles, a deep sound leaving his pretty lips, “My name is—”

“Joel?” 

You whirl around, your brain seething at the fact that he’d interrupt your evening. You’re ready to rip into him, really give you a piece of your mind and then maybe invite this handsome man beside you for ice cream.

“What tha’ hell are you doin’ here?” Your mystery man asks gruffly, “Thought you’d be at your home.” 

Tommy scoffs, “Could say the same thing about you. But I think the real question here is for her.” 

Two pairs of eyes turn to you as the men look at you. You’re confused as you look at both of them, not understanding what Tommy was trying to say. Your prospective new man also looks confused as Tommy speaks again, 

“Why the fuck are you going out with my brother?” 

Oh. Shit. 

Part two comment to be tagged

@freythecrazyfae @keseqna I offer you both, new Joel content from me.

When I wrote this a few days ago, I had no idea Taylor was going to buy back all her own music. The timing of this is truly impeccable. I feel like a fortune teller.

More Tommy and Joel Here

[kendyzzlewp]

The Right Decision || ART DONALDSON

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pairing: art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you’ve come to a big scary decision but it’s okay because Art supports you. no matter what.

tags: married art, working mom female reader, they have kids, basically the conversation that tashi should’ve had with art when he wanted to retire lol

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“I have to tell you something but I don’t want you to get upset. Just listen.”

Art looks away from the tv, his mouth falling automatically into a frown. You stand next to the couch, your fingers fidgeting with your wedding ring. A habit you picked up on when you first got engaged.

“I might cry,” you warn, already feeling the tears sting the edge of your eyes. “But it’s not because I am sad or anything. I just have anxiety.”

His frown deepens and he instantly turns off the television, giving you his full attention. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

With a heavy sigh, you drop down onto the couch next to him. “I’m struggling at work,” you admit, the embarrassment creeping behind your neck like a tick. “I can’t do it anymore. The demand, the constant traveling. It’s keeping me away from you and the boys. I hate it.”

Art scoots closer to you, his strong arm wrapping around your shoulders. “Yeah,” he says softly. “We hate being away from you too.”

“I want to be home,” you say, turning your head to look at him. “I want to be here for them. I feel like I’m missing out in everything. I want to be a good wife and a good mom. I want to cook dinner and help with homework. I want to clean—god I miss cleaning.”

Art chuckles quietly, pushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Baby, I-“

You cut him off because you already know what he was going to say. That you should’ve quit that job the moment you found out you were pregnant. But you weren’t a quitter, you saw things through to the end but this… this was just too much.

“Yes, I know,” you say quickly. “I should’ve quit years ago but I just didn’t want to take advantage of you. You trained so hard to be where you are. I’m not entitled to it just because I’m your wife.”

You could feel Art tense beside you, he couldn’t understand how you could think that. With a gentle touch, his fingers grab your chin, forcing you to stare into those ocean eye that made you weak.

“You are the mother of my children and the love of my life,” he firmly states. “You are entitled to every part of me. You took care of me, held it down for us when I first turned pro. Let me take care of you.”

Cue the waterworks. You always told him that if the tennis thing didn’t work out, he could look into being a writer. The sincerity in his voice, the love in his eyes, the kindness of his touch really made you fall in love all over again.

“We have more money than we know what to do with. If it quitting your job brings you peace, then do it. Be a stay-at-home mom or get another job if it’s what you really want. And please, cook for us again, I don’t think I can keep eating dino nuggets.”

A watery laugh escapes your lips as you grab the bag of his neck, pulling him closer. “Thank you,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his. “I love you.”

“I love you more.”

The sounds of tiny footsteps, thundering down the hallway capture both of your attentions. Your twin boys, Jackson and Eli, burst into the living room.

They are the perfect mixture of you and Art. Their blonde curly locks, your skin tone, his stunning blue eyes and your nose. You couldn’t help but to stare of them in slight awe, eternally grateful to be able to be their mom.

“Mama, look!” Eli exclaimed, climbing up onto your lap. “I drew a dino.”

You took the paper in your hand, gasping dramatically. “Wow, this looks so good bear.”

Jackson, the more reserved of the too, quietly climbed onto Art’s lap. He snuggled into his chest. “I drew something too,” he says, handing a paper to Art.

Art shows you the paper with a fond smile. “Wow, buddy. Is that our family?”

He nods, a small smile on his face. “Yeah, you, me, mama and Eli.”

Your heart swelled at the picture perfect moment. Sitting there basking in the love of your family you realized the decision you had to make. It wasn’t a hard one at all.

“I have some great news,” you say as the four of you cuddle closer. “Mama is going to be home all the time now.”

Eli jumps excited on your lap, his eyes wide and curious. “No more trips?”

“No more trips,” you confirm, ruffling his hair.

Jackson lifts his head from Art’s chest. “Really?”

Art smiles, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Really,” he confirms. “Mommy is ours now!”

The boys cheer, jumping from the couch and pulling your hand. Both of them babbling excitedly about playing and painting and snacks. You turned to look at Art, smiling widely.

“Thank you,” you say, tears threatening to fall again.

He smiles, tilting his head. “No, thank you.”

[with-every-piece-of-me]

Sweetheart; Tate Langdon x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Tate Langdon x fem!Reader

Summary: You come home after a weekend away and Tate's so glad you're back. 

Warnings: Sub!Tate, Dom!Fem!Reader, grinding but no actual penetration, one use of the word "mommy", kind of a handjob but not really (?), let me know if I missed anything! :)

Words: 1.6K

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You stumble up the stairs of the house, you haven't been home for the past couple of days, you missed Tate, sure, but you wanted to stay over at a friend's house for a sleepover. You adore Tate, but you also want a social life, even if Tate disagrees with that.

You sigh softly as you stand in the doorframe, the door is ajar and you can see into the room partially. You see the blanket hastily hanging off the side of the bed, it's flat on the bed then there is a rise under the blankets, and you can see someone is lying on your bed. The figure isn't moving, implying they're asleep but you know a stranger isn't gonna just break into your house to take a little nap, you already know who it is.

"Tate....?"

You call out softly, your voice comes out almost no louder than a whisper but you can tell he heard based on his slight movement, his supposedly sleeping figure shifts slightly under the blankets. You know he isn't asleep, why would a ghost need to sleep?

You walk up to the bed, and place your hand on the left side. Tate's lying silently on his side, he won't turn around to look at you.

"Tate?"

You call out again, this time a bit louder and clearer. You're met with Tate turning around to look up at you, his eyes are watery and red, and he has tears rolling down his cheeks slowly, covering the previous and now slightly dry tear stains. His cheeks and nose are rosy and red, your heart breaks slightly at the sight.

"Oh, sweetie..."

Tate leans into your touch as you reach out and graze his cheek softly with the pads of your fingers while you try to talk to him despite his deviated state.

"You were gone for so long... I was worried you had left me."

The boy stammers to the end of his sentence as he pulls himself up so he can sit. Tate looks up at you in sadness with a glint of relief in his eyes. Relief that you haven't left him, relief that you came back, back to him.

"I would never leave you, Tate... You know that."

You reply with a small but reassuring smile. You slowly sit on top of the blanket on your bed, Tate completely shifts his body over to face you. He reaches his hand out to grasp your own lightly.

"Stay here, in bed."

Tate requests as he stares up at you with a glimmer of hope plastered on his face, his doe eyes staring up at you – you chuckle under your breath.

"But, I have to unpack." 

You tease as you pull your hand away slightly and try to hide your slight smile, finding his desperation strangely endearing.

"No-! Stay..."

Tate demands as he pulls your hand back, his grasp on your hand is tight but not to the point of pain. His voice was laced with desperation. He looks up at you, his eyes glossing over.

"Of course."

You smile lovingly as you place your free hand on the side of his face, you lean forward to place a kiss on his forehead gently.

As you pull away Tate stares at you lovingly. He smiles as he places his hand on your hip, he slowly moves his hand under your shirt and rests his hand on the skin of your waist, tracing light shapes with his fingertips.

You place your hand behind his neck to pull him into a soft kiss, and in an instant, he kisses back in a needy manner. You move your hand up his neck and into his hair.

Tate gasps softly as his hand grips your waist and you tug on his soft, curly hair gently. You let go of his hair and pull away from the kiss, Tate looks at you in confusion and eagerness.

You place your hand on his shoulder to push him from lying on his side to lying on his back. you kneel on the bed and move yourself to straddle his waist, Tate stares up at me with a small smile on his face. you slowly pull his shirt up and off, you lean forward to kiss him quickly before pulling away and peppering kisses from his jaw, down to his collarbone, your lipstick leaves small but noticeable stains on his skin. The kisses and marks you leave are met with small whines and groans from the man below me.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long, sweetheart..."

you whisper as Tate props himself up on his elbows, his curly blonde hair now somewhat disheveled.

"Then show me how sorry you are."

Tate states, a smirk plastered on his face, you chuckle softly at his request.

"Oh, don't get cocky now. I might not."

you state as you put your hand on his chest and push him back down, his head hitting the soft pillows.

you trace your nails lightly down his torso, goosebumps quickly following your trail. Tate's breath comes out shakily and unsteady.

"...please..."

Tate breathes out, barely above a whisper. you look down at him and smile sadistically.

"What did you say, dear? I couldn't hear it."

you grin as you draw a slow line from his stomach to the waistline of his pants with your fingertips, earning a groan from the man below me.

When he doesn't answer and instead just whines in response you hook two of your fingers on the waistband of his pants, pulling them back ever so slightly but only to snap the waistband against his waist as Tate gasps in response.

"Sweetheart, I can't give you what you want unless you ask."

you tease as you feel his muscles tense. Tate stares up at me with doe eyes as he's acting as though he has too much pride to beg for what he wants, but you know him better than to believe that, he just wants me to give him what he wants without him having to do anything.

you move down from his waist to be straddling his hips as he stares up at me with a hopeful gaze, you would've thought he wouldn't be so naïve to think I'd just fuck him without him following a simple order.

you lean in closer, your lips only a few inches away from Tate's, so close yet so far. Just as it seems as though I'm about to kiss him you move your face away from his and instead begin kissing and biting his neck gently, leaving a trail of marks and hickeys on his neck to his jaw.

As you do so the man beneath me lets out sighs and breaths of relief as I'm finally giving him at least part of what he wants.

you smirk slightly as you get an idea, you begin gently grinding your hips against his, giving him the bare minimum friction you can as there are still layers of clothing between the two of us.

you grind your hips against his agonizingly slow as he begins letting out chocked-out whimpers, you can feel the vibrations from the noises he makes in his throat as you continue trailing kisses along his soft skin.

However, Tate's been so needy all weekend, practically destroyed at the fact that you've been away for a few days and now that he finally has you, you barely give him any friction, how cruel.

Tate whines pathetically as he tries to buck his hips up against yours needily, desperate for just a little more friction to relieve himself of the want he's had for you all weekend when he hasn't been able to do anything about it. It's almost cute, how much he aches for your touch.

You sigh as you move your hips up, just out of reach of his body, rendering his desperate movements useless as you've completely taken away any friction he's had due to him being too needy for more. Tate's desperate pleas for you to give him just a bit more only fall upon deaf ears as you have no intention of giving him anything just yet.

Tate groans softly as you run your hands down his waist, resting your left hand on his hip while your right hand slowly makes its way into his pants, tracing gentle, slow circles around the tip of his already hard cock, causing the man to moan before biting his lip to try and keep quiet. God, it's so easy to get him riled up for you.

He moans and whimpers while trying to stop himself from rutting against your hand as his hands grip the bedsheets to try and keep at least a little bit of control over his body.

"What's wrong, baby?"

You ask in a teasing and sadistic tone as you continue to tease his tip while kissing and biting his neck tenderly. Your words only cause mumbling pleas to fall from Tate's mouth, although they're all too mumbled and rushed to fully hear what he's begging for in specifics.

"I need to go unpack."

Interrupting his begging while you move your hand out of his pants, moving to be sitting up with your knees on either side of his hips, you're so close to him but too far away for him to touch you the way he so badly wants to.

Just as you're about to get up you feel Tate's hands gripping your thighs, pulling you back down onto him as you're now sitting on his lap straddling his hips once again, you can feel how hard.

Tate looks up at you with teary puppy eyes as he bats his lashes, his cheeks still have a pink tint to them.

"Please, mommy... Touch me?"

(I've been in a creative rut lately, and this has been in my drafts for months now, and even though I hate it I decided to edit and post it, sorry its not that good. I might to a PT2 but Idk yet <3)