#but I figured there would be another place it would do well

[beloveds-embrace]

Sooo much angstttttttttttt 😭

I need the boys to wake up and do whatever it takes to fix it, please, I can't take the angst 😭😭😭

Does this count as fix-it? 🤔 hope you enjoy, anon! Also this turned out far longer than i thought it would lol

First Part

Another shift slowly happens within the duchy, palpable. The whispers of servants echo louder than ever, growing sharp and cutting in the empty halls you once used to frequent. They still avoid you, but now they wonder and whisper of your health. It’s not just them; the men you’d once hoped you’d at least be on an amicable basis with slowly change as well, the longer your absence haunts the halls and galas.

John is the first to act. It’s hesitant at first, awkward even, as though he can’t figure out how to approach the shattered remains of what he’s ignored for so long. He stands outside your door one evening, his shadow stretching under the flickering candlelight, fist raised to knock. But he doesn’t. Not at first. He falters, as if the weight of his guilt roots him to the spot.

When he finally does knock, it’s tentative, barely audible.

“…Are you awake?” His voice carries a softness you’ve never heard before, but it grates against your numbness.

You don’t answer. Your eyes barely flick towards the door, not moving from where you are curled on your side.

He lingers, sighs, and leaves.

You had intended to let yourself waste away, in all honesty. Only your mother doesn’t let you; she bursts into your room one day, sneers at the miserable sight you make, and insults you to the high heavens. Nothing new, even if her digs hurt, even if she says she isn’t surprised by no one loving you when you are like this, but she forces you to eat some nibbles and then into a shower; she doesn’t care. She is simply tired of having you be an embarrassment and hiding away from the public eye.

Thus, you no longer stay in your room. You don’t bother with jewelry, with heavy gowns or complicated hair styles or even clearing the layer of dust off your furniture, you just leave your room. Thankfully,

Unfortunately, that means passing by the maids and servants. It means passing by them. It means interacting with them again, though no longer initiated by you.

Simon is the second, and less direct. He lingers in places you begin to re-frequent; the library, the gardens, the corridors near your room. He doesn’t speak, just watches from the periphery, eyes heavy and intense. Once, when you brush past him without acknowledging his presence, he mutters something under his breath, his fists clenching at his sides. But he doesn’t try to stop you and you don ask what he said.

He probably didn’t mean you, anyways. You doubt he wants to speak to you, the obstacle.

Johnny falters the most. Though your interactions with him were few, you’d occasionally hear from the servants about how fun he is in general. His smiles, though they’ve never been aimed at you, look quite fake to you, jokes half-hearted and dying on his lips whenever you pass on rare occasions.

One day, he brings a tray of food to your room himself, hoping to coax you into eating with something he’s cooked just for you. You answer the door, see him holding it, and shake your head without a word. Even if it looks delectable, like the dishes John would get.

“Please,” he says, his voice cracking. “I- just try a bit, hen.”

But you close the door before he can say more. He will try again and often, sometimes just leaving the tray, but you never touch it. You’ve lost weight, you know, and the only reason you are getting some nutrients at this point is because you occasionally sneak into the kitchens late at night for tiny snacks to tide you over. If Johnny knows it’s you, he’s never said anything.

Kyle is quieter, yet more present. The guilt eats away at him the most; he knows that his lack of care and respect had a part in the way the rest of the maids and staff treated you. He spends his evenings pacing the hall outside your room, his head bowed, mumbling apologies that you’ll never hear, wondering which one is best.

Once, he catches you in the garden alone, his mouth opening as if to speak, but you pass him without so much as a glance; you already know he won’t care for you have to say or ask for, he’ll just say he is busy, so you just don’t bother.

He stays frozen in place, his hand half-raised, the words stuck in his throat.

The servants, per Kyle and John’s orders, begin to change. Their guilt is slower to manifest, but it’s there and it’s evident in the way they rush to fulfill your needs despite your reluctance. They clean your room with quiet efficiency, no longer treating you like a burden, even though you hadn’t asked it of them. They leave fresh flowers on your desk and vanity, extra blankets on your bed, and freshly pressed gowns in your wardrobe.

You ignore all of it. It’s a waste of everyone’s time snd effort. You aren’t worth it.

Yet despite their heavy guilt, they return to and continue serving you.

But nothing changes the heaviness in your chest, the emptiness that refuses to leave.

One day, closer to the date of the annual winter gala hosted by the emperial family, you step into the dining room unannounced, your presence startling them all. It’s the first time you’ve joined them in weeks. You move slowly, your posture rigid and tired, your expression unreadable.

“Duchess,” John starts, his voice uncertain, rising from his seat.

“…John,” You sit without meeting his eyes, your movements slow and deliberate. The table is silent, the tension suffocating as John, Simon, and Kyle exchange uncertain glances.

John clears his throat. “It’s good to see you, wife.”

You don’t respond.

The meal is awkward, stilted, but it’s necessary for you; you need to get reused to John for your eventual reappearance in high society. Johnny offers you dishes with a hesitant, hopeful look in his eyes, and Kyle pours your wine with an unsteady grip. John and Simon try to start a conversation, but their words falter and fade when you don’t reply.

Still, they try. Over the following weeks, their efforts grow.

John begins carving out time to spend with you, awkwardly hovering near your door, waiting for even a crumb of acknowledgment. He starts leaving small notes for you- apologies and quiet promises to be better. They pile up on your desk, untouched but not thrown away. You want to believe, but you feel jaded and tired.

Simon offers you quiet companionship, instead. Standing at your side in the garden or library, saying nothing but ensuring you’re not alone. He speaks softly when he does talk, a one-sided conversation with only the occasional hum or noise from you, but he’s undeterred.

Johnny keeps cooking for you, leaving trays of food outside your door with little notes attached: Eat a bit, bonnie. Just for me. You don’t eat much, still have very little appetite, but you do start taking bites here and there, and it’s enough to keep him trying.

Kyle offers small acts of service- holding doors open for you, keeping anything you might need available at hanf, ensuring your rooms are kept warm and comfortable. His words are rare, but his actions speak of endless guilt and the quiet hope that he can earn even a sliver of forgiveness.

The maids and butlers follow suit, their movements quieter, their service more thoughtful. They stop muttering, their eyes full of remorse whenever they see you. They bow in respect, and no longer treat you as if you aren’t a part of the duchy.

But you keep them all at arm’s length. Their guilt is evident, their efforts genuine, but the wounds they’ve left on your heart are deep. Forgiveness, if it ever comes, will not be easily earned. For now, you let them try, watching their clumsy attempts with a mixture of numbness and quiet satisfaction (that you do feel guilty over, but truly can’t help).

Several weeks before the gala, John comes to your office. He sits down, and waits until you are finished with your paperwork before he speaks. You are in a beautiful dress- Simon’s gift- and your hair is in a delicate style, done by your maids. You look pretty. You feel nice, even if the numbness remains. These days, it’s less.

“Duchess, I was thinking,” he began, voice soft and patient. “it might do you some good to get away for a while. A change of scenery.”

You turned to look at him, the suggestion pulling you from your numb reverie. His blue eyes searched yours, and for once, there was no coldness, no distance. “Somewhere quiet,” he continued, “where you can rest… away from all of this.”

The idea of leaving the suffocating walls of the manor, and the heavy tension of the duchy was tempting. And yet, you hesitated, unsure if you could trust the gesture or if it was just another attempt to smooth over appearances.

“I’ll take care of everything,” he added quickly, as if sensing your doubt. “You won’t have to worry about a thing. You can choose who you’d like to go with, or even if you want to go alone. It’s entirely up to you, Duchess.”

Johnny and Kyle appeared in the doorway then, Kyle holding a tray with a steaming cup of tea, Johnny with a small, hopeful smile and a plate of your favorite biscuits. Even Simon lingered near the threshold, his gaze steady but tinged with something softer than usual.

They were all waiting for your answer, their expressions almost pleading. You could feel the weight of their guilt and the sincerity of their offer. It wasn’t much- not enough to erase everything that had passed- but it was something. A step forward.

“…I’ll think about it.” you said at last, your voice quiet but firm. And for the first time in a long while, you saw a flicker of relief in their eyes.

[yourreddancer]

For the past decade, as Donald Trump has risen in political stature, I have waited for that precarious but inevitable moment when his well-documented liabilities would end his political ascendancy, when it would all finally be too much. I waited through scandalous allegations about affairs and payoffs, and misogynistic and violent talk about grabbing women. There were the sexual abuse allegations for which he was found liable in one instance, dozens of felony convictions and even more outstanding indictments, flagrantly racist statements and unrepentant xenophobia.

There have been so many occasions when I thought finally, we have reached the apex. Finally, he has revealed too much of what lies behind the mask. Finally, this country will stand up and draw an unbreachable line in the sand. Finally, Americans will say this is not who we are and actually mean it.

That time hasn’t come.

Mr. Trump’s election demonstrates how American tolerance for the unacceptable is nearly infinite. There are hundreds of absolutely mind-boggling things I could point to from the past decade — the suggestion of bleach injections to potentially treat the coronavirus and the wild QAnon conspiracy theories infecting millions of Americans, including politicians, and insulting veterans and making fun of the disabled. But three elections in a row, Mr. Trump has been a viable presidential candidate and our democracy has few guardrails to protect the country from the clear and present dangers he and his political appointees will continue to confer upon us.

Clearly, Mr. Trump is successful because of his faults, not despite them, because we do not live in a just world.

Toward the end of the 2024 election cycle, the candidates made their closing arguments. Kamala Harris articulated a hopeful vision, a way forward for a fractured country. She positioned herself as a moderate, a leader willing to work with her political opponents, one who embraces diversity and cares about the middle class and recognizes that many people are struggling in one way or another and want those struggles acknowledged. They want solutions for their problems, and Ms. Harris promised she and her administration would work with Congress to better all our lives. Clearly, those promises were unconvincing.

Mr. Trump painted the United States as a dark and foreboding place, festering with immigrants and criminality. A place where good, “normal” Americans have been forgotten as unchecked progress reshapes the world they want — a white, middle-class, heterosexual world — into something inhospitable and unrecognizable. Mr. Trump lacks vision because he lacks imagination and empathy. He cares about himself and leads accordingly, surrounding himself with people who will enthusiastically stroke his ego and make him feel like the king he clearly wishes to be.

In the final, critical moments of the election cycle — during a Madison Square Garden rally featuring all of the bigotry to which we have become accustomed — I needed to believe we had, at long last, reached a point beyond which we could escape from the black hole of Mr. Trump’s terrible politics. Because if he were to be elected again despite all of this, if enough Americans remained obdurate in their willingness to embrace Republican extremism, it would be catastrophic.

And now Republicans will control the executive branch, the Senate and the House of Representatives. There will be few checks and balances.

Mistakes were made in the Harris campaign because mistakes are always made in presidential campaigns. Democrats are now reflecting on those mistakes and figuring out how to manifest a different outcome next time, if there is a next time. The recriminations have been numerous — too many celebrities, echo chambers, ignoring the economy, no alternative to the conservative media ecosystem, too much embracing of conservative politicians, too much identity politics, too big a tent, the price of eggs.

But to suggest we should yield even a little to Mr. Trump’s odious politics, to suggest we should compromise on the rights of trans people, for instance, and all of the other critical issues we care most about, is unacceptable. It is shameful and cowardly. We cannot abandon the most vulnerable communities to assuage the most powerful. Even if we did, it would never be enough. The goal posts would keep moving until progressive politics became indistinguishable from conservative politics. We’re halfway there already.

Mr. Trump’s voters are granted a level of care and coddling that defies credulity and that is afforded to no other voting bloc. Many of them believe the most ludicrous things: babies being aborted after birth and children going to school as one gender and returning home surgically altered as another gender even though these things simply do not happen. Time and again, we hear the wild lies these voters believe and we act as if they are sharing the same reality as ours, as if they are making informed decisions about legitimate issues. We act as if they get to dictate the terms of political engagement on a foundation of fevered mendacity.

We must refuse to participate in a mass delusion. We must refuse to accept that the ignorance on display is a congenital condition rather than a choice. All of us should refuse to pretend that any of this is normal and that these voters are just woefully misunderstood and that if only the Democrats addressed their economic anxiety, they might vote differently. While they are numerous, that does not make them right.

These are adults, so let us treat them like adults. Let us acknowledge that they want to believe nonsense and conjecture. They want to believe anything that affirms their worldview. They want to celebrate a leader who allows them to nurture their basest beliefs about others. The biggest challenge of our lifetime will be figuring out how to combat the American willingness to embrace flagrant misinformation and bigotry.

As Mr. Trump assembles his cabinet of loyalists and outlines the alarming policies he means to enact, it’s hard not to imagine the worst, not out of paranoia but as a means of preparation. The incoming president has clearly articulated that he may dismantle the Department of Education and appears to be giving the wealthiest man in the world unfettered access to the Oval Office. He plans to begin mass deportations immediately and has announced his pick of a Fox News host as the defense secretary — the list goes on, each promise more appalling than the last.

We would like to believe that many of the ideas on Mr. Trump’s demented wish list won’t actually come to fruition and that our democracy can once more withstand the new president and the people with whom he surrounds himself. But that is just desperate, wishful thinking. As of yet, there is nothing that will break the iron grip Mr. Trump has on his base, and Vice President-elect JD Vance is young enough to carry the mantle going forward for political cycles to come.

Absolutely anything is possible, and we must acknowledge this, not out of surrender, but as a means of readying ourselves for the impossible fights ahead.

“Mr. Trump’s voters are granted a level of care and coddling that defies credulity and that is afforded to no other voting bloc. Many of them believe the most ludicrous things: babies being aborted after birth and children going to school as one gender and returning home surgically altered as another gender even though these things simply do not happen. Time and again, we hear the wild lies these voters believe and we act as if they are sharing the same reality as ours, as if they are making informed decisions about legitimate issues. We act as if they get to dictate the terms of political engagement on a foundation of fevered mendacity. We must refuse to participate in a mass delusion. We must refuse to accept that the ignorance on display is a congenital condition rather than a choice. All of us should refuse to pretend that any of this is normal and that these voters are just woefully misunderstood and that if only the Democrats addressed their economic anxiety, they might vote differently. While they are numerous, that does not make them right.”

— A NYT opinion column that nails it.

[pearlymel]

Cont. capitano x fem!reader, NSFW, unprotected sex, riding, reader is called 'wife'.

“the mask stays on.”

…

“whatever for?” but your already silent pleading face did not make him question you any further, if this would please you.. then he was more than willing to obey.

Is this what they call a kink? Capitano thought as a thumb mindlessly brushed over your already exposed hardened nipple, enjoying the way you would squirm in return.

“darling,” he spoke, voice deep as his thumb circles around breast with no intention of teasing you, of course. “would you use me for your pleasure tonight?”

You blink at him, and be tilts his head, awaiting for your answer. His long hair brushing over your body, almost tickling your skin.

Fuck, if he could only chase you down slowly with the mask on—

“ah, y-yeah,” you clear your throat, trying to get yourself together to gently push his back against the headboard, his legs spreading wide for you. His cock jutted proudly from within the tight confinements, fingers barely brushing over his impressive girth, making his breath hitch in response.

You swallow thickly before wrapping your hand around the shaft, raising your hips to attempt to take him all at once. Even when you were already well prepped and dripping for him, taking him in always seemed like a challenge…

His hands trembled slightly as they gripped your hips, helping to guide you to position above him. He always got to handle with care.

Oh and the moment you started sinking down his cock, taking in the head before making your way further down, down—

his head fell back against the headboard, and if it weren't for the mask, you'd see just how much of a panting mess he was being. Nonetheless, he looks equally as hot with the mask on.

The first groan left his lips as your warm cunt stretched around him, and he rolled his hips upwards, burying himself deeper inside you until there was nothing left to take in.

So full.

You couldn't wait before you were already slamming your hips into him, making him startled by the sudden movement of you bouncing up and down, up and down, jaw clenched so tight when he glanced down to witness the way his cock would disappear and reappear from inside you.

His hands slid down to grip your ass, kneading the firm globes as he helped you move above him. You were already in another world, expression too fucked out to comprehend any other feelings.

“my darling wife,” capitano couldn't help but match your movements, thrusting upwards, burying himself as deep inside you as he could go. The head of his cock kissed your cervix everytime you slammed your hips down to the hilt, and he could feel your gummy walls fluttering around him, clenching and releasing in a desperate rhythm that soon made him all fucked out.

“C-cum with me,” you whine, your thrusts growing sloppier with each passing second, nails scraping any place you find untoched on his body before you could cry his name out beautifully when you spasm around him, like you were trying to squeeze the life out of him—

Taking your body in his arms, he thrust upwards one final time as he felt his own release approaching. His balls tightening, his cock throbbing and pulsing within your wet heat.

And there it was, his hips jerked erratically before he spilled inside you.

Capitano could feel his cum flooding, could feel the warmth of it spreading through your body, and could literally feel it leaking out of your sweaty and panting figure.

“… is this what you wanted?” You take the time to ask, and you're only met with heavy breaths and his limp body.

But he nods afterwards.

"next time you could praise me more," oh, he's intrigued.

"maybe sprinkle some degrading words," alright, so you liked it different sometimes. "And then pull my hair a bit," okay, he's a bit concerned but he can do that for you.

"maybe choke me too—"

"... Darling, were you tortured before? I worry for you."

[shadowsviper]

Finally Home

Phillip Graves x Reader

He's finally home after a long mission.

Requested by: @shadowcompanygirl

Words: 1.4k

Sorry, this took me way longer than I expected but I hope this was good enough. I didn't know how to end it so I kind of panicked and kept writing.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Phillip Graves had been gone for the past two and a half months. Unfortunately for you, it was normal for many soldiers to be gone for months. He was the CEO of the Shadow Company, it was almost guaranteed he'd be gone for weeks or months.

Phone calls and messages from him were rare. He tried his best to call whenever possible, but being in a foreign country with little to no cell service made it hard. The last message he had sent was from over a week ago. It was a picture of the cutest dog you've ever seen. After that message, he was radio silent again.

The night he returned was unexpected. He wasn't actually supposed to be back for another two weeks but his mission had ended earlier than expected.

As he drove himself home, he passed by all the landmarks you would usually point out if you were in the car. Driving past each one, he knew he was getting closer to home. To you.

The neighborhood was quiet, only the hum of his car engine could be heard. Once he parked his car in the driveway, he turned it off and got out. Phil looked at his house. It was a big suburban house he bought with you a few years ago. You had actually been the one to pick it out, something about the color and the design of the house drew you in.

Phil reached into the trunk, grabbing his duffle bags. He tried to be as quiet as possible when he closed the trunk and locked the car.

As he walked up the small steps of the front porch, he noticed a colorful bed of flowers near the bushes. A small smile appeared on his face as he admired them. He was glad that you found something to do while he was gone. He trusted you always to make the house look as nice as possible.

When he walked in, the house was dark and quiet. He figured you were probably asleep, considering it was the middle of the night. He placed his bags on the floor, wincing at the soft thumps of his belongings when they hit the floor. He crouched to remove his shoes.

He didn't notice a figure walking towards him while he was crouched down.

The noises he was making weren't as soft as he thought. He had woken you up. At first, you thought there was an intruder but when you heard nothing other than the soft thumps you assumed something just fell over. Since you weren't fully asleep, you decided to check it out. Not your brightest moment; getting out of bed in the middle of the night to investigate a sound.

You were surprised to find Phil by the door. He wasn't supposed to be back yet, and he didn't seem to notice you.

"Phil?"

Phil's head snapped up to find you standing in front of him dressed in one of his shirts. He stood up to his full height, opening his arms for you.

You didn't hesitate to walk right into his arms, allowing them to wrap around your waist. Your arms reached over to wrap around his neck. His vest still contained most of the stuff he needed for missions. It was bulky enough that it stopped you both from being pressed chest to chest. He would’ve left it at the base but he wanted to get back to you as soon as possible.

As much as you would've loved to stay in that position forever, you pulled away first, moving your hand up to cup his face. Your eyes scanned over his face, searching for any injuries. Thankfully, you found nothing except for that old scar on his cheek. Your thumb brushed over it gently causing Phil to lean into your hand. You could feel the tears forming in your eyes as you process that he was alive and well.

"I missed you," you said. Your voice was quiet and wavering a bit as if you couldn't believe he was actually standing in front of you. "You weren't answering and I thought you weren't coming back for another week or so."

"Change of plans, darling." Phil leaned in to kiss you. It had been far too long since either of you got to be in each other's arms. This time he pulled away first, he brought his hand up to wipe away a few stray tears from your face. “I’m sorry for the lack of calls. I know it worries you, but I thought a surprise would be nice.”

You sighed. You can always count on Phil to scare the shit out of you when he doesn’t answer. As long as he came back to you after a mission, you could put up with it a little longer. 

“Why don’t you get that vest off?” You tugged at the vest with a smile. “Take a shower. I’ll heat up some leftovers for you.”

Phil nodded. He was always grateful that you were willing to treat him so well when he came back even if you were tired. He did feel bad considering he hadn’t been around and left you to do all the work around the house. He gave you another kiss before grabbing his things off the floor and walking up to the bedroom. 

It wasn’t long until you heard him coming back down the stairs while you grabbed a plate out of the cabinet. You turned your head to find Phil walking towards you, his hair was damp from the shower. He walked up behind you, placing his hands on your hips and leaning in to place a few kisses on your neck. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” he mumbled into your neck. You let out a small laugh as you plated his dinner.

You grabbed the plate and turned around making Phil lift his head from your neck. He could only stare at you with love. “You tell me every time you see me. Come on, eat.”

Phil grabbed the plate from you and went to sit down at the dining table. To say he was hungry was an understatement, he was starving. The meals he had on base weren’t as good as your cooking. If he could, he would just eat whatever you made for the rest of his life. Although he probably wouldn’t share with his Shadows, he knew he’d lose your cooking to them.

As you watched him eat, a part of you couldn’t help but think that this was all a dream and he would be gone when you woke up the next morning. A selfish part of you wanted to keep him from ever going back to the military. You wanted him here to yourself, knowing he would be safe from any harm. However, you knew nothing would keep him from that life, he saw the Shadow Company as his brothers, a second family, but of course, he saw you as his first.

“How long are you staying?” You were scared of his answer. Knowing his line of work, he could leave at any time.

Phil looked up at you, putting his fork down. “Not for a month at least. I’ve got some people handling things so I have more time with you.”

You smiled. A whole month. It’s shorter than you liked, but a month was a month. You weren’t going to take any of it for granted. Phil stood up from his seat, grabbed his plate, and walked over to the sink. You heard the clink of the plate being set down. 

“I’ll do the dishes tomorrow, let's get to bed,” Phil said, walking back over to you and holding his hand out. “I’ve kept you up long enough.”

You grabbed his hand and Phil led you up the stairs and into the bedroom. You saw the bags and vest he had haphazardly thrown in the corner of the room. You decided that it was tomorrow's problem, you just wanted to get into bed and sleep. The two of you crawled into bed, immediately wrapping your arms around each other. 

“How about I take you on a date tomorrow, darling?” Phil asked. His southern accent was a little stronger because of how tired he was. He knew it’s been a while since he’s taken you anywhere and he wanted to make sure you knew just how loved you were.

It seems like you had a smile permanently etched onto your face. You haven’t stopped since he’d gotten home. “That sounds great.”

[rohirric-hunter]

I don't know if I agree that escalation is important. Another series that did this well is the Redwall series by Brian Jacques. The first book written in the series had a protagonist, Matthias. A later book focused on his son, Mattimeo. The stakes in Mattimeo's book are, if we're quite honest, noticeably lower than in Matthias'. There are still stakes -- one of the villains kidnaps Mattimeo and a bunch of other children and another one threatens their home while they are away from it, but neither villain is as threatening as the main villain of Matthias' story, and both of their evil plots are fairly localized. If they both got away with it then far fewer people would be negatively affected than in the first book.

In fact, both villains are villains that Matthias, as the hero of the first book, would easily have been able to deal with if he had just happened to be in the right place at the right time, but he's not. Matthias' failing as a parent isn't that he is bad at it. It's that his greatest strengths are also his greatest weaknesses. He's a very kind character, and this results in him letting Mattimeo get away with far more than he should, and one instance of him choosing to be kind rather than cautious kicks off the plot and all the ensuing conflicts. (Note that this is not presented as the wrong choice, per se, just an example of how unfortunately bad people can often use people's good qualities against them.)

Matthias then spends the entire book being restrained from being involved directly in either plot (which, again, he would have sorted in about ten minutes most likely) by time, distance, or cave-ins. Getting thrown into a bottomless pit. That sort of thing. There's almost a third plot where Matthias struggles against himself, TBH. His actions only indirectly and distantly affect the downfall of either villain. (This is thematically appropriate for the character, something something themes and motifs, but only tangentially related to this discussion.)

Some of the things that make this sequel succeed where others fail are these:

Matthias is present and active in the story. He is not put on a bus or killed early on; lesser writers use this tactic when they fear the new characters won't hold their own against the old ones. He is present and active; the story is simply not about him. He also passively influences the story through his past actions from the first book (kind of) and who he is as a person.

Matthias is a good parent, albeit not a perfect one. This works to the story's advantage, as Mattimeo ends up sharing many of his good traits that endeared readers to him in the first place by virtue of having been raised by him. Now they endear readers to the new protagonist as well.

Matthias has his own proper role in the story and a satisfying character arc. Matthias enjoyers still have something to be excited about in the story even though he is not the protagonist: here the writer neatly sidestepped the pitfall of alienating readers who are primarily reading the sequel in the hopes of new stuff about their faves.

Stakes really have little to do with it -- if anything the story is helped by the fact that the stakes are all deeply personal to the protagonists and not an Even Bigger Threat that will Destroy the World Even Harder than the first time.

In the case of Tolkien also doing this well, I think the most important takeaway is this: The parent figure must in some clear and important way influence and direct the child figure's story. You cannot write a sequel about a beloved character's kid where things just happen just because. There must be a clear line of narrative that makes sense between the parent and child's story.

But it takes a really talented writer to pull that off (especially if they weren't planning the sequel when writing the first book) and well a lot of people aren't really talented writers.

Generational spin-off media is like “okay, what would be the most in-character way for the previous show’s protagonist to comprehensively fail as a parent?”

[butlervibesonly]

𝑆𝑎𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑠 || Austin Butler

• Summary : Y/n is having terrible day, feeling so tired and overwhelmed lately. Until she completely loses it, but Austin gets home and everything feels safe all of sudden.

• Pairing: Austin Butler x actress! reader

• Warnings !! : angst, mentions of panic attack, crying, trembling, swearing,...

• Note : Hope y'all doing well! I thought I could write this, because we all sometimes deserve a good cry and, well, please don't tell me that I'm the only one who feels so overwhelmed lately 😭

Day by day felt same for you. All the work, meetings every day, unfinished projects... It's like a circle going around. And it's enough for you. You're sitting in living room of yours and Austin's house, your laptop lay in your lap as one notification after another flashes across your screen. Meeting tomorrow 6:00 pm, video call with producer of your next movie 11:00 am, interview at 3:00 pm.

The living room was quiet, except for the fast clicking of your keyboard as you write response to an email. The weight of the week pressed heavily on your chest, making even the simple act of sitting still feel exhausting.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, interrupting you. It was your manager calling you. All of sudden you remember that the couch is not the place where you should be right now. “No, no, no,” you whispered, scrambling off the couch. "Y/n! Where are you, were supposed to be at a meeting right now!" she says, sounding furious. "Shit, I uh... Sorry, I completely forgot. Will I still be able to make it on time?"

"If you'll manage to get yourself here in like 5 minutes?" You hang up the call, not even bothering to answer her. Anxiety clawed at your chest as you tried to gather your things. In your rush, you tripp over the table's leg, knocking over the glass of water you’d been drinking earlier. It fell down with a loud crash, spilling the water all over the wooden floor.

"Fuck!" you hissed, staring at the mess. The tears fill your eyes, feeling a combination of the frustration and exhaustion you’d been bottling up. Your chest tightened, your breathing quickened, and suddenly it felt like the walls were closing in on you.

You can't move, not even think. All you're capable of is sitting down on the floor, leaning against the couch. You hide your face into your hands, sobbing loudly. You didn't think that it would be so much on you and certainly not that it would ruin you like this.

No longer after, you hear the door to the house being open. Austin's home. And you're here like this. This is what he comes home to. What a shame — Austin deserves to arrive to a tidy house where everything is as it should be while you sit here like this.

“Hey, I’m home,” his familiar voice filled the space, calm and grounding. The moment he saw you, he stopped mid-sentence, his expression shifting to concern. "Sweetie, what’s going on?” You, don't replying, makes him cross the room quickly, kneeling beside you. His hands wraps you tightly. Austin actually notices the broken glass, which leads him to check if you have any cut.

"Hey, hey — Y/n, baby, what's the matter?" His voice was steady, soothing, and you clung to it like a lifeline. When he notices the laptop with tons of notes and unread emails, he gets it. He inhales slowly. “Doll, breathe okay? I'm here and I won't let you go." You nod, burying your head in his chest.

Austin holds you for a while, making you to steady your breathing. "That’s it. I’m here,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. Whatever happened, we’ll figure it out," he says, his hand careful patting circles on your back.

You started to feel better, although, the tears didn’t stop. He pulls you into his arms more firmly, wrapping you in a hug so warm and secure it almost feels like there is nothing but him.

“It’s too much,” you choke out, mumbling against his chest. “I can’t do this anymore.” Austin and you talked about how overwhelmed you're feeling, but he didn't know it's this intensive.

“You don’t have to do it all at once, ya know,” he brush his fingers through your hair. "Why don't you ask me for a help? You know I'm here for you," you look up at him, your eyes red and swollen from all the crying.

"You've got a lot of your own and I don't want to bother you, Aus," you sob out. Austin smiles softly, cupping your cheek. "Baby, you never bother me, I'm here for you no matter what, okay?" he says. You nod, pulling closer to him again.

He stayed with you like this for few more minutes, holding you close, until your breathing steadied completely. And when you finally lifted your head, not crying anymore, his warm, understanding smile was waiting for you. “Why don’t we clean this up together? Then we’ll figure out the rest. Aight?” he kisses your forehead. "Mhm," you agree, grabbing his hand.

Austin wipes away tears from your cheeks, kissing you again, and helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. In his arms, the chaos of the week seemed just a little less overwhelming. In his arms, you feel safe, loved and cared about. And it's perfect.

[merajsblog]

rin never had time for anyone else besides soccer. he was always busy either with school, or more importantly, practicing for soccer.

he never expected to find you on one random friday night. it was well after his practice, and his mom dragging him and his family to the mall to do some last minute shopping for a family party. he was beyond unhappy to be dragged along doing such “NPC” activities on a friday night, as if he was going to go out or something…

“Rin come look at this and tell me if it looks okay!” his mom calls out. he turns the corner, sulking as he heads over to check it out. she’s holding a black velvet dress with a rather large bow on it. she’s holding it up against herself, beaming at him. he’s opening his mouth to say something bland, before you come around from behind her, hands full with clothing.

you’ve got the cutest smile he’s ever seen. your eye contact is sharp, and it feels as though you’ve pierced through him. you give him a soft smile and he is even more lost for words.

“i found these dresses too! i think they’d look wonderful on you!” you beam at his mom. you clearly worked here, the walkie on your belt and badge told him that. he pays close attention now, watching you sway around her, helping her button up her shirts, and conversing about what looked best.

rin honestly had no words. there was something entrancing about you, and he felt as though he needed to analyze everything about you and your actions. he took note of how you’d bite your lip when thinking, when you placed your hands on your hips, how your head turned to the side when considering.

“Please, I insist!” he hears his mom say. it snaps him out of it. he’s engaged in the conversation now, trying to figure out what’s happening.

“When is it?” you ask, cocking your head to the side. rins mom looks at him, and before he even thinks, he’s blurting out the exact date and time. “November 30th, 8pm!” he says, wide eyed. his mom chuckles a little before trying more to persuade you to come.

“Rin, help me persuade her! I want to thank her for her amazing help! I found the perfect dress!” She says, eyes brimming like stars.

he was lost on what to say. no words came to mind.

“yes.” was all he could mutter out while maintaining the most intense eye contact ever. it made you swallow whole.

“Rin, give her your number and send our adress, i will see you there!” she squabbles, while hustling to the check out. you walk over, smile on your face and hand reaching out. rin almost forgets what is happening, this looks like a scene out of an angel movie or something. he only watched horror.

“let me put my number in your phone!” you said, hand extended. he fumbles his hands, trying to pull it out.

“yea hold on..um it’s..wait.” and he pulls his phone out. you quickly type it in, and hand it back, tucking hair behind your ears. he’s never been this starstruck before. he’s stumbling over his words, eye contact faltering. if anyone in blue lock saw him now, they wouldn’t even recognize him.

it’s safe to say he cannot wait until the party.

“i hope to see you then..or i mean my mom is excited to see you..” he mutters, starting to back away. you let out a giggle and he’s lost again, mouth slightly open.

“i’ll see you guys soon then.” you say curtly, before another customer comes hustling in asking for help. he’s almost upset, and wants to tell them to fuck off. though, he thinks you would hate him if he did that. so he doesn’t.

[azzifuddslover]

off the court

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

themes: angst, jealously

tw: swearing (i think that’s all?)

word count: 2.7k

a/n: i had fun with this chapter! excited to continue writing 😋 i had to ofc add the lil dijonai & lyss foul haha. also if u have any one shot suggestions please please lemme know! enjoy

CHAPTER TWO

“oh my goodness, hi!” nika pulled each one of the freshmen into a warm embrace. “we’re so excited to have you guys here!”

we? paige thought to herself, that she didn’t dare speak out loud.

“we’re excited to be here!” caroline smiled at the three older girls, as aubrey and azzi hugged.

paige purposefully put distant between herself and the curly headed brunette, not wanting to start arguments her first day.

“so, where do you guys wanna see next?” aubrey questioned, while paige remained silent, keeping to herself.

“you tell us,” ashlynn said, excitedly.

“alright,” nika slung her arm around paige’s shoulder, “let’s go show you the dorms then.”

as the seven girls made their way to the dorm rooms, azzi walked behind aubrey who led the way, while nika and paige placed themselves in the back.

“you good, p?” nika whispered, “it’s unlike you to be this quiet.”

paige plastered a smile on her face, “all good, nik.”

“no, seriously, what’s up?”

“i’m fine, really. just tired,” she reassured her close friend, gently squeezing her shoulder.

minutes later the girls arrived at the dorms when nika spoke up.

“i think it’s best to divide into groups so we can still get lunch. aubrey, show caroline and yanna your room, paige show azzi yours and i’ll show ash mine.”

of course nika would place azzi with paige. alone.

“um, i’ll take ashlynn,” paige suggested, but it was too late. ashlynn was already off with nika, aubrey was leading carol and yanna to her dorm.

azzi stood awkwardly in the hallway, eyes focused on the floor, as paige glanced once at her before taking off to her room.

“cmon,” she muttered, passing azzi.

azzi was hesitant to follow, but she did regardless, keeping her head low while nerves twisted in her stomach. azzi couldn’t remember the last time she was alone with paige, if ever. the pair have clearly never gotten along, so she was nervous to see where this would go.

paige opened the door to her dorm, that she shared with another teammate, dorka, who happened to be laying in her bed.

“hey dorka,” paige said, announcing her presence along with azzi’s.

“hey p,” dorka looked at her, then at the freshmen, “who’s this?”

“one of the new freshmen, azzi.”

dorka smiled at azzi in a reassuring manner, then pulled her in for a quick hug. “welcome to uconn, azzi!”

azzi gently hugged the older girl back, feeling less nervous with dorka being there. “happy to be here.”

“you’re going to love it. i’m a transfer, and its absolutely amazing. the girls are all so great, geno can be a bit tough, but he means well,” dorka explained.

azzi was genuinely excited for her start at university of connecticut. she’s always kept uconn as an option for her future school, and finally was able to commit just a few weeks ago. she figured it’d be the best fit for her, despite paige being here.

“well, i told lou i’d meet her in the dining hall, so i’ll catch y’all later,” dorka said, grabbing her bag and phone before quickly leaving.

the silent in the small dorm was haunting. paige’s eyes were focused on her phone, while azzi motionlessly stood against the wall, waiting for any sort of conversation.

“so, do you like it here so far?” paige asked, finally breaking the silence.

azzi looked over at paige, “it’s nice, yeah. the girls seem nice.”

“that’s good,” paige replied.

“are you excited to meet-“

“you don’t have to make small talk, paige. we both know you aren’t happy with me committing here,” azzi bite out.

paige scolded her eyes, “you’re right. i’m not happy with you being here. but i can’t change it, can i?”

“nope, you can’t. let’s just ignore each other like we’ve always have.”

secretly, paige didn’t want to ignore azzi. she couldn’t. but she pretended to did it anyway.

“fine by me,” paige shouted, walking towards the door.

“where are you going? this is literally your room!”

“anywhere else but here, with you. go catch up with nika or something,” paige muttered as she left, leaving azzi staring at the door.

it was the first day of practice with the new additions to the uconn team, and paige successfully avoided azzi at all costs. whenever the team got together, they’d always converse with other players, never daring to look each other’s way.

paige brought the basketball up the court during a 5v5 match. she directed the players on her team to her liking, then passed it to lou who made the open 3 shot. aubrey secured the rebound, threw it off to azzi, who began to bring it to the opposing net. paige, of course, was right on her heels, defending her. azzi noticed the blonde from the corner of her eye, looking unbothered as ever.

reaching the 3 point line with paige right there, azzi considers all the potential lanes to the basket. when nika, part of the opposing team, goes to defend aubrey, azzi sprints through an open lane, going for the layup.

paige was quick to notice her plan, though. she blocked the ball from entering the basket, hitting azzi in the process. it was an obvious foul.

“hey, that’s a foul!” azzi shouted.

paige, who’s grinning to herself, adverted her eyes to the brunette. “no it wasn’t, it was clean.”

“bullshit!”

“you’re just mad you can’t make a shot on me,” paige replied.

“please. like i haven’t done it before!” azzi exclaimed loud enough for heads to turn.

“ladies!” coach auriemma interrupted their argument, “make sure to stay after practice.”

for goodness sake, paige thought to herself.

“this is all your fault,” paige whispered, loud enough for only azzi could hear.

azzi simply rolled her eyes at paige’s remark. she wasn’t going to let the older girl distract her further; she’s already done it enough.

practice quickly came to a close; azzi managed to put distance between herself and paige, not wanting to cause any more trouble than she already had.

each one of the basketball players made their way out of the gym, while azzi and paige anxiously remained, waiting for coach.

his office door opened, “come on in.”

paige took the left chair as azzi took the right, both not saying a word. coach auriemma looked pissed.

“your behaviors is unacceptable. if you both want to help this team succeed, we’ll all need to get along, including you two. especially you guys. you both are two of the best players we have, and i’m going to need y’all to quit it with the bickering and focus on the game. am i clear?”

“yes, coach,” paige and azzi say in unison.

“alright then. with that being said, go out to eat with one another. get to know each other. i don’t know what caused your disliking of each other, but it’s got to change immediately,” geno auriemma instructed the girls.

paige’s eyes widen as azzi shifted uncomfortably in her seat, clearly not pleased with his suggestion. but azzi was new, and she only wanted to please her coach.

“that sounds fine by me,” azzi said, despite her brain saying she’d rather do anything else.

paige stole a glance at the younger girl, before also agreeing.

“good. when tomorrow comes around, i better not hear any arguments. and if i do, the pair of you will face further consequences. am i understood?”

paige nodded her head rapidly, “yes coach.”

“so, where do you wanna go?” azzi questioned the blonde after exiting coach auriemma’s office.

paige rolled her eyes, “we aren’t actually going anywhere together. if you thought that, you’re crazy.”

azzi couldn’t help but be slightly shocked that paige would lie to their coach. “paige, i’m not getting into more trouble just because of you. look, i don’t want to go anywhere with you either, but we have no choice. let’s just get it over with.”

paige absorbed azzi’s words, carefully considering them. “alright, fine,” she sighed, “where too?”

“do you like chick fa la?”

“uh, yeah. who doesn’t? that’s like asking if i breath air.”

after a silent car ride with paige driving and azzi being the passenger princess, the two ordered their meals and sat in an open booth, facing one another.

paige continued not to look azzi in the eye. azzi, however, was harshly glaring at the older girl. “are you going to ignore me forever or actually acknowledge we’re teammates?”

paige finally locked gazes with azzi, “i was planning to ignore you forever.”

azzi couldn’t help but softly chuckle, “of course you were.”

paige lips rose at the sight of azzi’s breathtaking smile, “you make it impossible, though.”

“oh, really? it seems you’ve been doing it pretty damn well for as long as i’ve known you.”

paige didn’t dare to tell her that ignoring azzi is the hardest thing someone could do. it wasn’t just her skills on the court, that could make anyone, including paige, second-guess their game. it was the way azzi carried herself, making everything she did seem effortless, even when it wasn’t. her silent confidence and her ability to make everyone feel included even in a busy crowd. paige hated how much she admired the young girl from afar; how looking at azzi made her forget about everything and everyone around her. it was impossible to ignore a girl like azzi.

instead, paige settled on, “you’re just a pretty good player. i always notice good players.”

after swallowing a bite of a chicken nugget, azzi leaned her elbows on the table, a small smirk lingering on her face. “so now you admit to me being good?”

paige couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her comment regarding USA basketball days. “whatever, whatever.”

azzi laughed to herself, and continued to enjoy her meal, while paige also focused on eating rather than the conversation.

azzi and paige eventually relaxed to each other’s presence, feeling more comfortable than before. they discussed the challenging classes they were taking and geno’s firm coaching methods; the girls began to somewhat enjoy each others company, when a boy around their age walked up to their table.

paige and azzi both looked up at the man, who was directly eyeing the brunette. azzi’s cheeks reddened at the sudden attention.

“can we help you?” paige asked, making the man turn to look at her.

“yeah, uh, i was wondering if i could get your number? you’re, like, really pretty,” the man said to azzi.

her cheeks were basically inflamed at this point, “uh,” she tried to think of the words, “sure, i guess?”

paige scoffed at azzi’s interaction with this random guy. they were finally talking and she had to ruin it. paige clenched her fists and suddenly rose from the table, causing the man and azzi to look at her.

“i’m going to the car,” paige announced, taking off before azzi could get another word out.

after paige’s exit, the boy looked helplessly at azzi, beaming regardless of paige’s reaction. he was pretty cute, but azzi didn’t have the time to focus on anything but basketball and her classes.

“i’m kameron, by the way,” he said.

“i’m azzi, but i gotta go, sorry,” azzi replied, trying to hurry out of there as soon as possible.

“wait, your number-“ but azzi was already out the door.

azzi climbed into the passenger seat, immediately aware that this ride will be even more awkward than the one they previously had.

paige’s grip on the steering wheel caused her knuckles to turn white. when azzi noticed, she softly asked, “are you okay?”

“are you kidding me, azzi? we were finally getting along and you had to ruin it by giving some dude attention. what the actual fuck?”

“it wasn’t my fault he came up to me!” azzi shouted at paige.

“you could’ve said no! but instead you agreed right in front of me!”

azzi gaped at paige, “why do you care who asks me for my number?”

“i don’t!” paige answered defensively, although it was a complete lie.

“what are you, jealous?”

paige’s cheeks tinted at her comment, “don’t be silly, azzi.” she turned on the car and began driving down the road.

arriving back on campus, paige instantly took off without as much as a glance at azzi. after their short argument in the car, paige blasted music to avoid further comments from azzi.

azzi scrolled into her dorm that she shared with caroline, letting out an aggravated sigh.

“you good, girl?” carol asked azzi, with her eyebrows drawn together.

“yeah. coach auriemma made me and paige go out to eat, trying to make us get to know one another. complete bullshit, if you ask me.”

“why don’t y’all like each other, anyway?” carol questioned her friend.

“i don’t know! i have no idea what i did to her. she’s hated me ever since USA basketball,” azzi complained.

caroline looked around in confusion. “wait, so what went down when you guys were out?”

“we were actually talking, without arguing, and a guy came up, asking for my number. paige just got up and left. then in the car, she got all pissing and screamed how i said yes ‘right in front of her,’” azzi made quotations with her fingers.

caroline laughed at azzi’s explanation. “what?” azzi smiled.

“she was jealous!”

although azzi accused paige of being jealous earlier, she didn’t exactly believe it to be true. how could paige be jealous of someone hitting on azzi? she hated her.

“no, trust me, she wasn’t. she was just upset for some reason.”

“oh my god, she’s totally in love with you or something,” carol suggested as azzi turned pink.

“caroline, she’s not. she’s constantly avoiding me and is always mean. does that really should like her liking me?”

carol held out her hands like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “um, yes!”

azzi couldn’t comprehend how caroline got the impression that paige was in love with her. that was beyond crazy. paige’s hatred for azzi has been going strong ever since USA basketball tryouts. there was just no way.

practice the next day was going smoothly; paige and azzi didn’t interact much, like the usual, which didn’t cause geno to enable further consequences for the young girls. azzi was showing off her 3 point shooting skills, while paige continued to be an assist machine.

it was time for another 5v5, and of course paige and azzi were on opposing teams. azzi drained 3 after 3, getting impressive looks from her teammates as well as the two coaches.

a long rebound ended up near the 3 point line, to which azzi managed to secure it. however, she didn’t see the older blonde who was also going for the rebound right behind her. paige crashed into azzi, knocking her to the floor face first. paige maintained her standing position, with each one of her legs around azzi’s torso.

without thinking, paige reached down to place both hands on azzi’s hips, gently pulling her up. azzi’s ass was flush against paige’s front, sending unwelcome feelings throughout the blonde’s body.

there’s a brief moment of awkward silence, azzi still slightly disoriented from the fall. paige’s hands lingered on azzi’s hips a second too long, not that azzi made any hint to move them. she can feel the older girls hands on her body, steady and warm, making her heart skip a beat in her chest.

“you good?” paige whispered, practically in the curly brunette’s ear, given the distance between the girls.

“yeah, thanks,” azzi replied breathlessly, trying desperately to hide the flush creeping up her neck.

after noticing her lingering hands on the hips of azzi, paige removes them acting as calm as possible. paige notices a shift in tone and smirks, teasing the younger girl, “didn’t think i hit you that hard.”

azzi responds with a snark of her own, “i’m not fragile, you know,” attempting to look tougher than she truly is.

paige’s smirk widens as she allows her eyes to take in the sight of azzi. messy bun, leg sleeve, practice jersey slightly ruffled. she looked good.

“like what you see?” azzi commented on paige’s wandering eyes.

embarrassed, paige looks away, “you wish.”

azzi softly chuckles as the freshmen makes her way over to caroline and yanna, ready to continue the 5v5.

in a dais, paige stands motionless in the spot of her and azzi’s interaction, silently wishing she could have one more excuse to talk to her.

but the older girl didn’t, so she walked back into position, ready for the next play to come.

[that-basic-simp]

Shut The F**k Up

Vi x Fem!Reader CW: Swearing, angst WC: 1.3k+ A/N: This is the censored version. The uncensored version is linked below! (It's because I am a bit uncomfortable with posting NSFW here on Tumblr.)

"Just shut the fuck up!" I pounded my fist onto the table.

The entire bar went silent as the loud thud overpowered the thunderous music. It even caused the jukebox to lose alignment on the record. Scratches could be heard as the song skipped a few seconds ahead. My breathing was heavy as I was just staring at the counter.

"You alright there?" someone reached over and tried to place a hand on my shoulder.

I turned and smacked their hand away, "Just peachy."

I grabbed the bottle of alcohol and stood up. I threw down some coins and stumbled out of the bar. Words fell from my mouth as I mumbled to myself. They were just incoherent mumbles until memories of what happened crept back into my mind. Were her and I something? Or was I just her fling? Just a hook up every now and again to forget her ex? Or did we actually have something? It was never brought up, never spoken between us. She just came into my apartment, drunk and bloody, and we spent the night together. She was rough, hard, something I couldn't get elsewhere. She made me feel alive in a long time. She gave me a reason to believe that life was worth living. Now with her gone, what is the point?

I took a long swig from the bottle and let the contents slide down my throat, heating my stomach up and making my entire body feel like it was on fire. I wiped the droplets from the corner of my mouth and let out a belch. Others turned, disgusted, while I just stumbled past them. I burst into my apartment and slammed the door closed. I didn't take one step and I stumbled onto my bed.

"Jeez, and I thought I would get bad."

I shot up and looked around. That jet black, poorly dyed hair, that stature and build, that tone of voice. Was she really here? Or was the alcohol making me hallucinate?

"V-Vi?"

She turned and leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Hey, little dove."

It's been a while since I heard that pet name come from her. One of our drunken escapades resulted in us going towards topside one early morning to watch the birds. While I was still conscious of my thoughts, I pointed out the birds to her and told her what kind they were. I told her I loved doves and that was where the nickname came from.

"You're still here? In Zaun?"

"Yeah. I am."

"I would have figured you went back up top when your ex came down here."

"Well, things were figured out and turns out, our paths diverged from one another's."

"I could have told you that. You're running around with a Piltie and you thought it was going to work out?"

"Like what we had was something."

"Was it? Or was I just your rebound? Someone to make you forget of your troubles?"

"We never established anything."

"You're one to talk, leading me on and then just leaving without so much as a goodbye."

"We never had anything."

A knife to the heart. In her case, a fist to the face. I bit my inner lip and let out an exasperated sigh.

"So," I tried not to let my voice crack. "What we had, was nothing?"

She shook her head, but then shrugged.

"I-I don't know."

"You just said we never had anything."

"I'm starting to doubt that."

"Did you have something going on between you and that Piltie?"

"I don't know about that either."

"Then what do you know? I can tell you," I stood up and walked towards her. "All you know how to do is get into someone's face, get into someone's business, and just fuck shit up."

I was mere inches from her now.

"I thought you were going to be a great person, you know. You were hard to like at first, but after we went around and screwed over some people for fun, and now you're here screwing me over, that's just sad, Vi, even for you. All I can see now is you don't think with this," I jabbed my finger harshly against her forehead. "But with these," I reached down and grabbed her bandaged fists.

"Sometimes, I wonder if you think at all," I scoffed.

A scowl appeared on Vi's face as she just stared into my eyes with those powder blue eyes. Some remnants of that black face paint were still on her skin.

"Maybe that's why you can never keep the people you love and care about around."

That was what caused to break the camel's back. In a flash of black and a bit of red, Vi's hands grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the bed. Her lip was pulled back in a growl as her face was just mere inches from mine once more.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up."

"Make me," I said.

She harshly pressed her lips against mine. I let her in like the night she accidentally came into my apartment thinking it was hers. She let out a bit of a moan, probably tasting the alcohol on my tongue. My arms wrapped around her neck as I dug my hands into her hair. I grabbed a clump of it before I yanked it a bit too hard. In return, she bit on my lip a bit hard to where it drew blood. I pushed her away and ran my index finger over my bottom lip.

"What the fuck, Vi?"

She just smirked and ran her tongue along my bottom lip before she placed her lips back onto mine. I couldn't deny her. That was probably my problem in this situation. She gave me attention and was good to me now that I think about it. She never once tried to hurt me when I was intoxicated. She tried to sober me up before we started anything so she knew I was aware of what was going on. And I took care of her. After her matches I would wash the blood from her knuckles and anywhere else she got blood on herself. I'd make sure she ate and drank before and after each fight. On nights she would indulge a little too much in the alcohol, Loris and I took her back to her place. Or if it was just me, I brought her back to mine. We were more than this, weren't we?

I pulled away and furrowed my eyebrows at her. She caught on and pulled away, sitting beside me. We both let out disappointed sighs. Not at each other, no. Just at ourselves for letting us get like this. So heated with emotions that it drives us to be near one another.

"What are we, Vi?" I asked.

She shrugged, "I-I don't know. I-I'm sorry I can't answer that."

"Of course you can't answer it," I reached down under my bed and grabbed another bottle of alcohol.

I pulled the cork off and started to down it. Vi reached over and grabbed it from me mid drink.

"H-Hey!" I wiped the liquid from my chin.

She took a long swig before she spit it out.

"The fuck is this?"

"Don't complain about the alcohol since it's not yours," I snatched it back.

"I can't go back to my place."

"Why? Someone else take it?"

"Yeah," she said shyly.

"O-Oh."

"Yeah."

"Maybe if you actually took care of yourself for once--"

"This again?"

"You left me, Vi!"

"I left a lot of people. I left the people I cared about and look what happened. I fucked up."

"No shit."

"Gee, thanks for rubbing salt into the wound."

"We all fuck up, Vi."

"You don't know what fucking up is," she shook her head.

"Actually, I do."

"Really? Do tell."

"I fucked up the day I let you into my life. I took you in because I thought you were just lost and broken. Turns out, you're just fucking stuck in the past and running away from the things you can't beat with your fists."

Vi went silent. That was when I knew I made things worse. There would be days where we'd argue and she'd leave and not come back for almost a week on end. Then I'd find her in an alley slumped over with bottles beside her. And a stream of vomit.

"Vi, look I--"

"Do you ever shut the fuck up?" she turned towards me.

"Only when you make me," I smirked.

"I'll do more than just that," she pinned me to the bed once more.

Link to the uncensored version

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

[knock knock]

Atlas: It’s open!

Aspen: Tonton! Phoenix: She’s obsessed with that word now, so I’m pretty sure that’s just your name for the foreseeable future. Atlas: Better than ‘Asses’.

Dawn: I’m so happy to see you. Where’s Ash? How is he doing? Atlas: He’s okay. He’s taking a minute upstairs. I was just about to go check on him.

Aspen: Can I play? Spencer: Sure!

Atlas: Ash? Asher: Yeah.

Atlas: Well, this is new. Asher: What is? Atlas: You being the one to sneak away.

Asher: Now I know why you do it so often. It’s peaceful. Atlas: Yeah, it is. Dinner will be ready soon, but we have a few minutes. Can I join you? Asher: Sure.

Asher: We need to get a bigger apartment. Atlas: We do?

Asher: Yeah. I can’t keep using my parents’ house as storage, and it would be nice to be able to have all my stuff in one place. And if we’re serious about this company and this game, then we’ll need room to work. And you know that one day, when I’m ready, I’m gonna want to get another dog.

Atlas: I figured.

Asher: Jasper only lived here because this was his home, and I wasn’t going to downsize him to an apartment. But I will want the next one to live with us, and we can’t have that where we are now. Atlas: [lets out an exaggerated sigh… only half joking] You’re going to let that dog all over the furniture, aren’t you? Asher: You know it. On the sofa, even sleeping in our bed. You’re gonna hate it. Atlas: [breathes a laugh through his nose] Can’t wait.

Atlas: So, is this what you’ve been thinking about the whole time you’ve been up here? A new apartment? Asher: [shrugs] Kinda. It’s the only thing that keeps me from spiraling. Atlas: Spiraling about what?

Asher: [sighs] I just… I feel awful. I should’ve been here. I don’t know if he was in pain or scared. I should’ve been with him, to comfort him. He needed me, and I wasn’t here, and now he’s gone. [voice cracks] And I miss him so much.

Atlas: I know. Come here.

[knock at the door] Megan: Everything okay? Asher: Yeah. Fine. Megan: Dinner’s ready if you want to come down. Asher: We’ll be right there.

Asher: Fuck. [sniffles and wipes his eyes and nose with his sleeve] Okay, we should go. Atlas: Listen, if you want to hold off on the announcement— Asher: No. I don’t want to do that. It would feel like we’re keeping it secret or something. Besides, it will be nice to have something happy to celebrate.

Atlas: Okay. Let’s do it, then.

[purinfelix]

from your last post could i request pedri? from “about you” by the 1975 where perhaps reader and pedri had a past relationship all throughout high school and when pedri left for barcelona they lost contact / broke up but years later they reunite somehow? When they do it’s like a “i thought you’d forget about me by now” to “how could i forget about you?” maybe angst to fluff! sorry that was so long … i hope it made sense lol <33

did you think i'd have forgotten? ✶⋆.˚ - pedri gonzalez

w/c: 600 a/n: this is one of my fav songs of all time so tysm for this (and for giving a specific request HAHA) i got quite a few for this song but i liked this idea the most and thought it fit the best - hope u enjoy anon !! <3333

this is part of my 1k event - check out the rules here!!

He still looked exactly the same.

Or at least, from what you could make as your train sped past where he was standing on the platform - though you were pretty sure you could still faintly his features, that dark black hair, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes as he laughed.

It was all exactly the same.

And maybe it was the realisation, that feeling of noticing someone familiar in a place like this - or something deeper within you that you dared not to question - that pushed you to speed off the train at the last minute when this wasn't even your stop. Maybe it was this that made you walk, then jog, then sprint towards what you recognised as his figure in the distance.

But it was also the reminder of what happened between you two, all those years ago, that brought your sprint to a screeching halt. And what would be the chances of you running into your ex-boyfriend here, at a random station, far away from your hometown or the country he had left you to move to? How could you face him, after all that?

"Y/N, is that you?" Too late.

"Pedri?" you called out, your tone confused even though you had made up your mind about it being him long before he had.

"Woah, hi, what are you doing here!"

"I could ask you the same thing," you laugh, a little awkwardly.

"I'm here for a match, we're playing a local team."

"Oh, right," you smile, of course, "I study here."

There's a slight pause, in which you can see Pedri's expression turn into one of surprise. "I didn't know that."

"I mean, why would you?" You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, but it's too late since his face is already donning an apologetic look.

"Right, sorry," he mumbles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he looks at the floor. "What are you studying?" he says after a while of silence.

"Nursing," you say matter-of-factly.

"Of course, you'll be great at that," he says, offering a warm smile.

It's clear he's eager to make this exchange as normal as possible, and you'd probably be obliged to let him. But it's hard to be normal given what happened between the two of you, when this is the first time you've spoken to him in years.

"It's nice to see you," he says after another moment of silence.

"Same for you," you laugh shyly trying to avoid eye contact, "I figured you'd forgotten about me by now."

"How could I forget about you?" When you look into his eyes again, you're taken aback by how well his expression reflects his words - his brows tilted slightly up in the inner corners, a tender confusion at the fact that you'd think he'd dare to forget about you.

"Well, you know with how famous you are and everything, I see how they chant your names when you play," you begin to ramble, eager to explain yourself.

"Well, I'd hardly consider myself fam- wait, you watch my games?"

"Well, yeah," you sigh shyly, feeling your cheeks glow pink at the sight of his smirk. The two of you stand there, looking at each other for a while, exchanging sly glances - and it feels, just for a moment, like you're the same high schoolers who were in a puppy-love relationship.

"Are you doing anything now?" he asks you.

"Well, I was on my way to class but I'm probably late for that now."

"Do you want to grab some coffee? I want you to show me what's good around here," he smiles, "oh, and catch me up on how you're doing."

You feel your cheeks begin to ache from how wide you're smiling.

"I'd like that," you nod, "I'd like that a lot."

[dumpsterfire-daydreams]

Battle plans, protective König, protective Price, soldier König, soldier Price, TW: Physical Violence, TW: Sexual Assault, TW: Attempted rape, TW: Groping, TW: Forced orgasm, TW: Implied Physical Violence, TW: Kidnapping, TW: Hostage situations, TW: Physical Abuse

(Part 1)

Reader POV:

Once you were clean and your stomach was no longer hollering for attention, you drained the tub and sadly climbed to your feet. As you watched the dirty water begin to disappear down the drain, you were genuinely sad to see it go. It’s not like it hid you beneath its surface, but its presence definitely made you feel the slightest bit less exposed. The slightest bit less lonely. The slightest bit less scared. But it's not as if Ghost would tolerate you drawing a second bath right that second. He was still sitting there in the corner patiently waiting for König’s sacrificial little lamb to be washed clean. You kept your back to him as you rose in order to reclaim a small morsel of dignity and simultaneously deny his wandering eyes any more access than was necessary. As you shivered a bit at the sudden lack of warmth, you could hear him rise from his seat. The heavy footfalls of his combat boots thumped against the floor as he approached. But you were relieved when it was not his hands that touched you, but instead the soft fabric of a bath towel. It prodded lightly against your shoulder and you reached back to take it, but Ghost swept it out of your reach as soon as you did.

"Turn around," he ordered.

You frowned a bit, looking back at him in protest. "Ghost, I think I can dry myself off just fine."

But his eyes met yours in a challenging stare as he repeated himself slowly. Deliberately. And his tone made it clear this was not a request. It was a command.

"Turn. Around."

"Fine," you grumbled, keeping your eyes downcast as you turned to face him. All you wanted was a warm towel to stop your shivering. But you knew he would have gleefully left you there to shiver all night if that’s what it took to finally win your compliance. Everything was a fucking game to him.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it," he warned as he helped you step out of the tub. "We clear?"

"...Yes."

"Yes what?"

You paused, humiliation making a rapid return as your face burned. But Ghost gripped your chin between his thumb and index finger, raising your eyes to meet his glare as you corrected yourself. "Yes, sir."

After he let your chin fall back down to your chest, you stood there uncomfortable and annoyed as Ghost dried you off. He took his time tending to every inch of your figure, giving extra attention to the areas you wished he would have given the least. Your breasts, your groin, your hips, your ass. The way his hands moved beneath the towel in those places made it clear his focus was not on drying you off. To him, it was just another excuse to put his hands on you. And he was well aware it was an objective that you were in no place to stop.

He went to your breasts first. The towel carefully circled the swell of each one before he took the whole of it in his hand. His fingers pressed into your skin through the fabric as he gave it slow, intentional squeezes. The palms of his hands rubbed over the peaks of your nipples, stimulating them until they stiffened and pushed back against his touch.

Once satisfied there, he turned you around so that he could dry your back. But while he finished your back in just a few seconds, he spent an eternity tending to your ass. There was a lot of squeezing, rubbing, and groping there too. Occasionally, the towel would press in to spread the soft mounds of flesh around his hand. And you would feel his thumb drawing languid circles around a more forbidden entrance. An entrance he had not yet claimed, but seemed to be considering the longer he circled it with his touch.

Finally, he withdrew the towel and readjusted it to a section that was still dry. You yelped when he gave your ass a firm slap with his hand and he chuckled, enjoying the way the impact rippled out across the large expanse. But then, he pulled you back into his chest as his hands slipped around your hips to his final destination.

He didn’t waste time asking you to part your thighs. Instead, he was content to shove his knee between them from behind as he lowered the soft fabric to your groin. If his goal wasn’t to dry you off before, it certainly wasn’t now. Because his fingers guided the towel directly to your clit. Soon, he abandoned it entirely and let it drop to the floor, in favor of toying with the small nub of nerves with his bare fingers. And now that his other hand was free, he used it to grant himself a better view by parting the sensitive folds of surrounding skin.

“You just took a bath,” he hummed against your ear, looking over your shoulder to enjoy his own display. “But somehow you’re still dirty here.”

You moaned, pushing away from him. But with his firm chest behind you and his arms in front of you, there was quite literally nowhere to go. The bundle of nerves was even more sensitive than usual after last night. Just a few seconds of his touch was already making your knees threaten to buckle as you writhed against his hand, pushing forward against his arms as if to break free. But Ghost anticipated it, smoothly transitioning his supporting hand from your sex to your throat. Once there, he used it as leverage to pull you right back and held your head against his shoulder as he continued working his fingers below.

A loud whimper rang out as your whole body began to quiver. And obscene wet sounds filled the room as your body quickly responded. He’d successfully trained your body to associate his touch with pleasure. And it was a lesson that your mind could not overpower. You couldn’t stop your hips from softly bucking up to meet him, desperate for the incoming release. And before you could brace for it, it hit you full force.

“Fuck,” Ghost moaned with you as you climaxed without warning. His eyes watched hungrily as the the leg of his jeans went a darker shade of blue, the warm evidence of your orgasm streaming down his thigh. “That’s it princess. That’s my good girl.”

The effects of overstimulation quickly followed afterward. At first, you had simply been too sensitive. But now, your body was practically screaming for the pleasure to end as Ghost refused to slow his finger’s motion. Instead, he picked up pace. Your pleasure point throbbed, its swollen head almost painfully tender as it protruded slightly past your outer folds. His calloused fingers felt just rough enough against it that even the slightest contact made your body arch in his hold. And he wasn’t stopping.

“Ghost, I-ah!” You threw your head back in prolonged whine, gasping loudly. “I can’t!”

“I think you’ve got more in you,” he growled. “Do that for me again.”

“Ghost, please!”

“Again.”

You screamed as a second orgasm tore through you, the sensations so strong you felt like you were going to black out from the intensity. And behind you, you could hear Ghost curse as a fresh wave of moisture coated his leg. Your body completely spent, you let yourself slump back against him as the cycle of powerful spasms slowly subsided. As your legs went limp beneath you, his hand fell away from your groin, and he adjusted his hold. You were grateful for it, too. Because without his arms keeping you upright, you would have quickly collapsed to the ground at his feet.

Your chest heaved as he picked you up and hurriedly returned you to the bedroom. Once there, he laid your limp form on top of the blankets before he crawled onto the bed after you. He hovered over you, his eyes wild and ravenous. He looked like he was going to devour you whole. And the conspicuous bulge in his pants filled you with a new sense of dread. You had gone from feeling the slightest bit better to feeling utterly filthy in a matter of minutes. And from the look of his eyes, he was eager to finish what he started. But you tried to plead with him one last time.

“Ghost, I want to go home!” You cried, cowering in his shadow and curling up into a pitiful ball. “I want to go home!”

He recoiled in shock as if you’d struck him across the face. "You still want to go back?"

“Yes," you nodded, tears welling up. "Please?"

"Why would we go back? There's nothing there for you anymore. You said it yourself!"

"Because you forced me to!” You choked the words out, unable to stop the tears from spilling over your cheeks. “I didn’t have a choice!"

Ghost was seething as he snarled at you. "After everything I’ve shown you? The life we could have together? You still want to go crawling back to him?”

“Yes!” you sobbed. “Ghost, I love him!”

Ghost’s eyes darkened as he sat up, pure hatred coming off him in waves as he glared down at you.

"And here I was thinking you were doing so well. Thinking you were finally seeing things my way. Thinking you deserved a reward. But it looks like you still need a bit more convincing."

You screamed at full volume as Ghost grabbed a fistful of your hair and dragged you off the bed behind him. You hit the ground with a thud and continued to scream as Ghost dragged across the bedroom floor. No matter how terrifying you found him one moment, he always managed to outdo himself sometime in the future. He was brutal, he was merciless, and he was determined to get his way. These things were certain at this point. But what you feared now was far more terrifying than any of those things. You feared your most recent rejection had finally pushed him past the point of no return. You feared that this man was actually going to kill you.

I know this story includes some pretty dark themes. But at the end of the day, I care more about the well-being of my readers than I do for hits or kudos. Period. I never want my writing to conjure up emotions or feelings that negatively impact you beyond the story. This story can be dark and uncomfortable at times. But it is always intended strictly for fun and fantasy. If at any point along the way it stops being a pleasurable experience, please please close this page and walk away. My stories are never worth your well-being, loves.

[vladdyissues]

so i keep thinking about just how thoroughly knocking vlad up would fix a lot of his issues (or it does in the series as my ass would write it). i also keep thinking the timing is SO bad on giving him any in the canon

SO

TIME TRAVEL

-Danny (late teens) is given a chance to change the past

-he decides to go and antagonize Vlad a few years before canon to distract him from murder attempts on Jack. draw his wrath onto himself and displace his previous rage target. that's a nice safe range of time travel right? how badly could he possibly throw things off when he already exists and is most of the way to who he was when he was starting out?

-small side effect--he catches Vlad's full attention. he hadn't planned to go after Jack and Maddie for a few years yet, when everything was lined up, meaning Danny is the ONLY one he has eyes for right now. it's a level of intensity he was not ready for

-Vlad, meanwhile, is unprepared for how he feels to see another half-ghost. he had been ready to go those whole 20 years totally alone, preparing for that perfect moment of sweeping Maddie off her feet. now it's a little difficult to focus on the big picture. he needs to figure out EVERYTHING about this stranger

-over a course of about three months, shit gets romantic. and physical. not necessarily in that order

-Danny realizes he's THOROUGHLY fucked the timeline as WELL as his archnemesis, so actually tells Vlad the whole story--he can't stay in the past forever, but his memories of being here and doing this will sort of... snap into place when this timeline's danny reaches the right age. Here's events between then and now, here's things he would like to still happen, here's things he never wants to happen

-he does NOT expect Vlad to wait and they're still in that spicy in-between part of enemies-to-lovers so Vlad sure as fuck isn't promising that, but he's certain he isn't obsessing on taking Maddie from Jack anymore, so looks forward to the option of picking up where they left off

-(dick so good it can fix homicidal rage)

-Danny goes back to the new future at the end of those three months since much longer and he'd start forgetting relevant details in living a day to day life and ohhhhh fuck, fuck, FUCK WHAT DID HE DO

-meanwhile in the past Bitter Reunions happens and Vlad has no desire to do anything to Jack or Maddie besides introduce them to his adorable tiny four, soon to be five year old daughter Danielle, with whom he plans to move to Amity Park soon when she starts kindergarten. openly offers to train Danny with no strings attached, he's just invested in making sure he survives for at least a few more years

-(jailbait wait, but make it sci-fi)

-Vlad is much more chill about things with an attainable goal and a small child that needs him at his best

-he doesn't see his Danny in this newbie, but now he knows the future, knows that if he's just patient and helps Danny out now, HIS Danny will come back to him

-when the timelines eventually sync, THERE'S THAT FULL, INTENSE, ATTENTION AGAIN

-as well as several years of memories of becoming intensely attached to Dani and Vlad being an infuriating jackass without being an antagonizing one, keeping some of that hateful spice without actively committing crimes against everything Danny values. in fact, his help was still instrumental in pulling things off

-Vlad has been waiting for this Danny for some time now, full-on obsession building up steam, so if Danny wants it to not happen, he had better say something about it

-he does not. he kinda dreaded losing it on snapping forward, actually. and Vlad managed to thread the needle of training him and building a bond with Dani without totally shifting their relationship's tone

Time Travel makes me cry because my stupid ogre brain is not good at parsing temporal phenomena but the parts I understood were excellent and make perfect sense. And the thought of Jack and Maddie being surprised (and maybe relieved, because 20 years without a peep from Vlad and suddenly a party invite? Kinda unnerving. Is he still mad?) to find their old college friend is a happy single father to an adorable little girl who—wow, Jack, doesn't she look so much like Danny when he was that age?—is just 💯💯💯

And Vlad knowing that there's something wonderful (a relationship, family, love, connection and understanding like he's never felt before) waiting for him at the end of this journey if he can just be patient would, I think, do a lot to tone down his villainous proclivities.

Vlad's essential problem is that he's so desperately lonely and impatient that he can't see beyond his immediate need to satisfy himself. He can formulate elaborate plans, yes, but he doesn't really plan for the future beyond those plans. He's totally still living in the past (at least until this AU happens), metaphorically driving a car with the pedal to the metal but looking nowhere except the rear view mirror. And this AU totally breaks that and gets him looking ahead, invested in the present again. I love it.

[beanarie]

21 hours

i just kept rolling around the moment from my last fic when tommy said "i turn into the unabomber when i get scared, just ask hen and howie" and i wondered, what could possibly be scarier than thinking he might lose buck right after getting him back. (tw: panic attacks)

~

Hen's feelings on Tommy Kinard are... malleable. He was trash when they met, and for a solid few months after that. They remained on the same crew, struggling and bleeding and getting each other out of scrapes. That built a measure of trust. After Gerrard and the worst of his minions vanished, he changed. Became almost sweet. He and Chimney, who had always been okay, hit it off like a house on, you know. Hen liked this new version of her teammate, who seemed to be finding his feet after losing some seriously bad influences. She enjoyed their group hangouts. Maybe a year after his transfer to Air Ops, her friend Casey shared that Tommy was gay and out to his new unit, which, good for him.

She never forgot the asshole who helped make her feel like she would never belong, but he got smaller over time, easily overtaken by whoever Tommy felt like showing her.

The call today was going fine until it all went to hell, another unwelcome similarity to the night Buck got struck by lightning. The victims were alert and on their feet, ambulating on their own power right ahead of him, when he saw the heavy mahogany shelving unit lose its moorings and shoved the family out of the way just in time. That of course put him right in its path.

For a long, terrible minute while he was pinned she and Chim thought they didn't have a pulse. But it was there. They found it eventually. And he made it to the hospital without crashing.

Having heard a little about Buck's efforts to rekindle their relationship (along with his feeble arguments that they were strictly platonic), Hen isn't shocked when Tommy shows up at the waiting room. But she wasn't expecting the asshole.

Chimney eyes her, asking if she's seeing what he is. They recognize this man. The linebacker set of the shoulders, the distancing lift to his chin. Bobby asks him if he wants coffee, and he simply wrinkles his nose.

He's pissed. Maybe he blames them for letting Buck get hurt.

"Enough," Eddie says, flinging himself out of the chair. "We're taking a walk."

"Don't speak for me," Tommy spits out.

"Now," he growls.

Surprisingly, Tommy goes, but Hen isn't sure that's a good thing. Eddie has a history of making problems worse with his fists. Chim is on the phone with Maddie, figuring out the logistics of two scared parents who can't be in two places at the same time. He's no help. Hen considers asking Bobby if they're gonna let Buck's sort of ex and his best friend lay each other out while he's in emergency surgery. But he's never really up for mediating nonsense when one of them is badly hurt, especially not when it's Buck.

The surgeon comes out and speaks for a moment. Hen now has a compelling reason to intervene. She turns a corner and soon finds them. Eddie leaning in, glaring, while Tommy cuts him off and stalks away a few paces.

"You're not even trying," Eddie says tightly.

"Shut up." Tommy whirls back the way he came, breathing hard.

"Three things. Chim's baby could do it and he can't even sit up by himself."

"One day, Eddie. One. Are you fucking kidding me?"

Hen blinks. Tommy sounds like he's holding back tears.

"Tommy, man, come on. If you pass out and end up in the bed right next to Buck, he'll 100 percent blame me. Get it together."

The dots connect themselves. The pacing. The irregular breathing. Eddie prompting him to list three things. Tommy is having a panic attack.

"Guys?" Hen says. Tommy's head snaps up. Their eyes meet and if she wasn't already sure, this would do it. That isn't anger. That's pure terror. "Surgery went well. They're wheeling Buck into recovery. They said someone can go be with him when they bring him around."

"Tommy's going," Eddie announces. "If he can remember how to breathe."

Tommy has a hand on his own chest. "Dickhead."

"Hen, can you walk him over?" Eddie raises one shaking hand. "I need to sit for a minute."

Tommy's eyes widen. "Shit, Eddie, I didn't even ask." Tommy comes close to invading Eddie's space, stopping only when Eddie holds him off.

Eddie gives him a half-smile. "I'm fine, Tom. The rest of us are all fine. It's just an adrenaline dump. I'm gonna call my kid and let him bitch about organic chemistry and the school musical until my heart stops pounding." He squeezes Tommy's shoulder and gives him a shove. "Go on."

All the way down the hall, Tommy mutters to himself, trying to do what Eddie asked and regulate his breathing, but it doesn't seem to be working.

"What happened yesterday?" Hen asks curiously, stuck on his earlier comment.

He's so surprised his lungs stutter to a complete stop. He looks down at her, blinking hard, and he shakes himself. "We agreed to try again," he says.

"Damn," she blurts out, and almost apologizes before he lets out a humorless little laugh.

"I know!"

She doesn't tell him how it felt to watch her son coding not two weeks after they got her daughter back. She's not sure how to say this is just their lives, that the only reason they get through it is because they have each other. He's spent enough time observing them.

They've reached the recovery room. Tommy cracks his neck and straightens his spine. "Hen?" he asks, tentatively, pausing with one hand on the double doors. "Do you need to go home? Karen-"

"Isn't expecting anything but updates from me until morning," Hen says. This isn't a regular day.

He nods. "Can you stick around? Some of these doctors suck at communicating and- and I want to make sure I'm ready for whatever he's gonna need."

So maybe he has figured it out. "No problem, Tommy. I'll be right here."

"Thank you." He takes a deep breath and pushes the doors open. Through the split second sliver before they swing shut again, she catches a glimpse of Buck on the gurney, his face mottled with purple from the books that flew off the top shelf (an encyclopedia, like they used to keep in the '90s). He looks terrible. When he wakes up for real, he's gonna feel even worse. But she's pretty sure he'll be just fine.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Sacrifices/ BTR Book 2: a Jhea Fanfic.

Chapter 15: Siri… play Metalingus by Alter Bridge

Flashback February 3rd, 2025

The florescent lights buzzed overhead as Detective Samuel Hart stepped into the Pensacola Police Department. His leather shoes clicked against the tiled floor, and a folder rested under his arm. The officers at the front desk barely glanced up; they’d been expecting him.

“Detective Hart from Stamford,” he introduced himself, flashing his badge.

“Right this way,” an officer said, leading him down a sterile hallway to the interrogation room.

Inside, Matthew Addams sat handcuffed to a steel table, his head slightly tilted back, a smug grin plastered on his face. The years of manipulation and violence seemed etched into his features, yet he looked oddly composed. Hart stepped in, placing the folder on the table with a heavy thud.

“Mr. Addams,” Hart said coolly, taking a seat across from him. “Long trip for me, so let’s skip the pleasantries.”

He pulled three photos from the folder and spread them across the table: one of Damian Priest, his face bruised and battered, posing for injury documentation; another of Jon and Trinity’s cars, nothing but charred metal husks; and the last, a grainy CCTV image of a figure in a police uniform outside the gas station where Liv and Dom had sought out help.

Matthew’s smirk widened as his eyes scanned the photos. “Nice collage. What’s the occasion?”

Hart leaned forward, tapping on the image of the unidentified man. “Three incidents. All in a 24-hour window. We know you didn’t act alone. So, who’s this? He’s not one of ours, and I’m guessing he’s not just playing dress-up.”

Matthew chuckled, his shoulders shaking slightly. “Detective, you do realize I’m already facing trial for attempted murder for my wife’s friend, right? Why would I help you now?”

Hart didn’t flinch. “Because you’re not as untouchable as you think. And let’s get one thing clear—your ex-wife is no longer ‘Mrs. Addams.’ She’s well on her way to becoming Mrs. Fatu.”

At the mention of Rhea’s impending new life, Matthew’s smirk faltered. In a flash, he lunged forward, only to be yanked back by the restraints. The chains rattled as Hart remained unfazed, a slight smirk of his own forming.

“That hit a nerve?” Hart taunted. “You must hate that she’s moving on while you rot in here.”

Matthew leaned back, regaining his composure. “You think I’m stupid?” he said, his voice low and taunting. “I’m not giving you anything, Hart. I’ve got nothing to lose.”

Hart tapped on the table, his gaze sharp. “You’ve got partners, Matt. You talk, and we work out a deal. Keep quiet, and you’ll take the fall alone.”

Matthew leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You don’t get it, do you? They’re always watching.”

Hart’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s ‘they,’ Matt?”

Matthew chuckled darkly. “Ask Demi.”

Hart froze, his expression momentarily cracking. “What does Demi have to do with this?”

Matthew smiled, his voice dripping with malice. “She’s a murderer you know..”

Hart’s fist clenched, but he forced himself to remain calm. “You’re bluffing.”

Matthew shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. “You’re out of your depth, detective. Demi’s past is far more interesting than you realize.”

—

October 13th, 2017 - Flashback

Liv practically bounced down the hall, her excitement contagious and inviting. She’d been looking forward to this night for weeks, and her energy was infectious. Reaching a familiar door, she gave it a rapid knock.

The door swung open, revealing Tegan Nox. She smiled but shook her head. “The birthday girl can’t decide what to wear,” she said, exasperated.

Liv sighed dramatically, stepping inside. “Rhea, come on! We don’t have all night!”

Rhea stood in the middle of the room, her hair freshly styled, staring at the two outfits laid out on the bed. One was a sleek black mini-dress with leather accents, the other a more casual but equally bold crop top and ripped jeans combo.

“I don’t know!” Rhea groaned, crossing her arms. “Do I go full badass or chill but hot?”

Liv exchanged a look with Tegan, then marched over. “Rhea, it’s your 21st birthday. We’re going out to drink, dance, and make bad decisions. You wear the dress.”

Rhea frowned, picking up the mini-dress. “You think?”

Tegan chimed in, “Absolutely. You’ll turn heads the second you walk in.”

Liv grinned. “And if you don’t like it, I’ll buy the first round to make up for it.”

Rhea laughed, her tension easing. “Alright, alright. Let’s do this.”

She grabbed the dress and headed to the bathroom to change. Liv plopped onto the bed, grabbing her phone to snap a quick selfie. “Tonight’s gonna be legendary,” she said, her voice giddy with anticipation.

Tegan smiled, leaning against the dresser. “You think she’s ready for the chaos we’re about to unleash?”

Liv smirked. “Rhea was born for chaos. Let’s just make sure we survive it.”

Minutes later, Rhea emerged, rocking the mini-dress with confidence. Liv let out a low whistle. “Damn, girl! You’re gonna own the night.”

Rhea laughed, grabbing her jacket. “Let’s make it a night to remember.”

Tegan grabbed her purse, and the trio headed out, ready to take on whatever the night had in store.

—

Rhea sat down at the bar, her eyes scanning the crowded club as the thumping bass of the music vibrated through the room. She spotted Liv and Tegan already hammered, laughing hysterically as they clumsily danced with each other in the center of the floor.

She sighed, a small smile tugging at her lips, when a voice interrupted her thoughts.

“Can I make something for the birthday girl?”

Rhea turned her head and was met with the sight of a handsome man, probably in his mid-20s, leaning slightly over the bar. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his warm brown eyes locked onto hers with an easy confidence.

Rhea smirked. “Make me something nice.”

The bartender chuckled and got to work, expertly mixing a series of colorful liquids. A minute later, he placed a perfectly crafted Bahama Mama in front of her.

Rhea reached for her wallet, but before she could pull out her debit card, he gently placed a hand over hers.

“No charge for the birthday girl,” he said with a charming smile.

Rhea felt a small blush rise to her cheeks. “What’s your name, sweet cheeks?”

The bartender chuckled, a light blush coloring his own face. “Demetri,” he replied, leaning slightly on the bar.

Rhea raised her eyebrow, smirking. “Demetri, huh? Well, Demetri, you just made my night a whole lot better.”

She took a sip of the drink, the sweet and tangy flavors mixing perfectly on her tongue.

Demetri tilted his head, his gaze never leaving hers. “So, birthday girl, how’s your night going so far?”

Rhea gestured toward Liv and Tegan, who were now attempting some ridiculous dance moves that drew laughter from the surrounding crowd. “It’s been… interesting. My friends are a disaster, but hey, it’s their job to embarrass me tonight.”

Demetri chuckled, his eyes sparkling. “Looks like they’re having a blast. What about you? You don’t seem like the type to let loose on the dance floor.”

Rhea shrugged, swirling her drink. “Depends on the mood and the company.” She shot him a playful look. “You offering to change that?”

Demetri grinned, leaning in just slightly. “Maybe. But only if the birthday girl can keep up.”

Rhea laughed, feeling the tension of the night slowly melt away. “Oh, I think I can handle you, Demetri.”

—

Rhea stood under the dim glow of the streetlights, the cool night air brushing against her skin as she watched the taxi carrying Liv and Tegan disappear down the street. Liv leaned out of the window, her voice carrying over the city’s hum.

“Let us know how fire his dick is!” Liv slurred with a mischievous laugh.

Rhea felt her cheeks flush, her thoughts interrupted by the warmth of a hand gently placed on her lower back. She gasped softly, spinning around to see Demetri standing behind her with a smirk.

“So,” he began, his voice low and smooth, “is the birthday girl up for heading to my place?”

Rhea hesitated for only a second before nodding. “I’m down,” she said, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

Demetri’s smile widened, but then he added, “I’ve gotta make a run first, though. You cool with that?”

Rhea blinked, tilting her head. “What’s a run?”

Demetri chuckled, his demeanor shifting slightly. “Rhea… maybe you should just head home, baby.”

“What?” Rhea asked, frowning in confusion. “I don’t know what a run is, but—”

“You’re too green, babygirl,” Demetri said, his tone soft but firm, like he was letting her in on some unspoken truth.

Rhea’s frustration bubbled up. “Come on! You’re really gonna leave me to spend my birthday alone?”

Demetri’s eyes softened, but he kept his distance. “It’s not like that, Rhea. You seem like a good girl, and I don’t want you getting mixed up in things you don’t understand.”

Rhea folded her arms defiantly. “I’m not a kid, Demetri. Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

Demetri sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about age, Rhea. It’s about the life. You don’t want this kind of trouble, trust me.”

Rhea felt a pang of disappointment, but she refused to back down. “Maybe I don’t care about the trouble. Maybe I just want to have fun tonight.”

Demetri studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching hers. Finally, he shook his head with a small smile. “You’re stubborn, huh?”

Rhea smirked. “You have no idea.”

Demetri laughed quietly, his hand lingering at her side. “Alright, fine. Let’s go. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

—-

October 28th, 2018

Hunter sat behind his desk, his expression grim as Rhea walked into his office. She moved slowly, her shoulders hunched, and quietly took a seat across from him. The air was heavy with unspoken tension.

Hunter cleared his throat. “Rhea… I need you to explain what this is.” He slid a photograph across the desk toward her.

Rhea’s stomach dropped as her eyes fell on the image: her mugshot, unbelievable and undeniable. She exhaled slowly, trying to keep her composure.

“My NXT UK Women’s Champion doesn’t get arrested for Conspiracy to Distribute,” Hunter continued, his tone laced with disappointment. “So, what’s going on?”

Rhea hesitated, her fingers trembling slightly as she pushed the photo away. “It’s not what it looks like,” she muttered.

Hunter stood from his chair and rounded the desk, stopping directly in front of her. His sharp eyes searched her face. “Take off your jacket,” he ordered quietly.

Rhea’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “No,” she said quickly.

“Demi,” Hunter said, using her real name. His voice softened, but there was still authority in his tone. “Take off your jacket. Please.”

Rhea’s hands hesitated at the zipper, but she knew there was no getting out of this. Slowly, she peeled the jacket off her shoulders, revealing the deep bruise on her neck, faintly covered with concealer. Hunter’s jaw tightened as he took in the sight.

“Who did this?” he asked, his voice low, almost a growl. “And don’t tell me it was Liv, Tegan, or Dakota. I’m not buying it.”

Rhea’s eyes dropped to the floor, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t say a word.

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh, stepping back to give her space. “Do you want me to fire you?” he asked pointedly.

Rhea’s head shot up, panic flashing across her face. “No,” she said firmly.

“Then let me help you,” Hunter said, his tone softer but still serious. “Whatever you’re caught up in, it’s not worth your career. It’s not worth you.”

Rhea blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears. “It’s complicated,” she whispered.

“I’m sure it is,” Hunter replied. “But you don’t have to face it alone. We can fix this, Rhea. But you’ve got to trust me.”

Rhea let a tear slide down her cheek, her voice breaking. “I deserve this,” she whispered.

Hunter felt a pang in his chest. Seeing Rhea—his fierce, unstoppable NXT UK Women’s Champion—reduced to this, broken and vulnerable, was jarring. It wasn’t like her to be anything but strong.

“Is it that boyfriend of yours?” Hunter asked cautiously.

Rhea nodded silently, her shoulders trembling. Through her tears, she managed, “I made a stupid comment about his brother… and I got corrected.”

Hunter’s jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He stepped closer, pulling her into a firm but gentle embrace. Rhea sank into the comfort, her sobs muffled against his shoulder. After a moment, he pulled back, his hands resting on her shoulders.

“Listen to me,” Hunter said, his tone firm but filled with care. “I can move you safely. You’ve got so much momentum right now—I could recommend you for the main roster.”

Rhea shook her head, her eyes filled with desperation. “I can’t.”

“Why?” Hunter asked, his voice tinged with frustration. “You don’t have to stay in this.”

Rhea’s voice was broken. “Because I love him so much.”

Hunter’s heart sank. She was defending him—the man who’d bruised her, who’d broken her spirit. He took a deep breath, trying to keep his own emotions in check. “Rhea,” he said carefully, “love shouldn’t hurt like this… let me call the proper authorities.”

“Don’t..” Rhea whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I know he’ll change. I just need to handle it.”

Hunter felt his resolve weakening as she pleaded with him. “Rhea,” he said gently but firmly, “I can’t ignore this. You’re asking me not to call the police, but I don’t want to get a call someday saying you’re—”

“Don’t say it,” Rhea cut him off, her voice trembling. “Please, Hunter. Let me handle it.”

Hunter stared at her, his heart breaking further. He wanted to shake her, to make her see the danger she was in. But he also knew pushing too hard might drive her further away. He sighed deeply. “Rhea… I can’t have you looking like this. Not on my roster.”

“I’ll fix it,” Rhea promised, her voice desperate. “I’ll cover it better, I’ll—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Hunter interrupted, his voice stern. “I want you safe. That’s all I care about.”

Rhea nodded, but her eyes didn’t meet his. Hunter could see the battle waging inside her, and he hated that she felt trapped.

A/N I know it’s short but I have some things I have to catch up on before I write a full chapter. 👌👌

[chrisprincesss]

(This is literally my first fic ever, I’m sorry if it’s bad )

Chris feels like he’s going insane. Never in his life have his thoughts been consumed this much by someone, especially not by an innocent girl at that. Chris doesn’t typically do sweet girls, doesn’t find himself drawn to the all too people pleasing demeanours they present but you’re different — there’s just something about you which he simply can’t stay away from, can’t find himself wanting to steer from your alluring persona.

Quite frankly, the way you originally met doesn’t even make sense to him, at a party which he was sure he could bet his entire life you were dragged to. What confuses him even more though, is the fact that you chose to befriend him. You’re polar opposites yet you seem to get along as though you share all the common casualties in the world. It’s honestly both amusing as well curious.

Still he finds himself drawn to you regardless of the questions circling his mind and when he finds himself in your neighbourhood dealing, he’d be a fool to pass up the opportunity to see you.

“Was passing by doing some deals and i couldn’t not visit,” He says once you open your front door, a surprised look flickering in your eyes as you register the sight of him before a soft smile breaks onto your face, allowing him into your humble abode.

You step aside and let him in.

Chris follows you into the house, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants as a smirk plays on his lips whilst he takes in the sights of your home. “Cute place you got, pretty.” He lets his eyes trail up and down your figure, shamelessly taking in every little thing about you as you close the front door behind him. “What’s got you up so late anyway?”

“Thank you.” you smile at his comment “I was just working on some stuff.” you walk into the living room and sit back down on the floor, back against the couch. you had been scrapbooking all night.

Chris follows behind you, a curious look appearing on his face as he walks over, eyes flickering between the items on the floor, the ones in your hand and your face. “Scrapbooking, huh?” Chris questions, watching you for a few seconds before sinking onto the floor next to you, his back also against the couch.

“Never saw you as someone who scrapbooks,” He muses, leaning back against the couch and stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Well I do.” you softly spoke and smiled.

A hum of amusement vibrates out of his throat, and he tilts his head back to rest against the couch, turning it slightly to watch you.

“Learn something new everyday, don’t I?” He chuckles, his leg gently bumping into yours as he stretches out.

“You do Chris.” you whispered as you got back to doing your book.

“You look cute when you concentrate,” He teases, his arm shifting so it’s propped up on the couch. His gaze remains on you, eyes studying the way you work.

“I’m surprised, never would I have thought that a sweet, perfect girl like you would be up and scrapbooking at 2 in the morning.” He muses aloud.

“You think I’m cute?” you look at him over your shoulder, but your shoulder hiding your smile.

Chris’ smirk only grows larger hearing you play coy. He shifts on the floor, moving until his own shoulder presses against yours as he lets out a soft chuckle.

Head tilting, still propped up on the couch. “You know you’re cute.”

“You’re sweet Chris.”

Another amused chuckle leaves his throat, a smile still very much present on his face.

(lmk if I should make a pt.2 😭)