#didn’t turn out how I liked but I created something!

[xxchaosjojoxx]

Hi!! I saw you were taking requests, could I request a Trafalgar Law x Female Strawhat Reader about little moments where Law slowly falls for the reader starting where they first meet on Sabaody Archipelago to the end of Wano if possible? Oh and can I also request the Reader to not have a devil fruit? 😁

A/N: Thanks for both of your request. I hope I did you guys justice <3 @leafcollectorr

Love at third sight (Law x female strawhat!reader / grumpy x sunshine)

The first time Law saw you he knew exactly that you were trouble. That smile you wore while your captain punched this celestial dragon was captivating. Soon as this dude flew to the ground you went towards your captain. “I have the feeling we made a good impression back there.” You giggled.

Even when Eustass and strawhat fought with him against the marines he could still hear your laughter and joyful and especially loud words of encouragement.

“GO get em Captain. Punch them right there. YEAH like that.”

“Looking good tomato head. He flew out of the ring.”

“Wow grumpy cat, your devil fruit power is so cool. I wanna be next. This looks funny.”

Eustass and Law were fast turning our heads towards you. Their faces are bright red. Was it embarrassing for them? Hell yes.

“DON’T CALL ME GRUMPY CAT!” - “WHO IS A TOMATO HEAD WOMAN?!”

That damn smile of yours, made your eyes sparkle like a jewel.

Law was glad that you parted ways that day. Even so, your smile, your voice never left his mind. “How annoying. This damn woman is like their captain.”

The second time he saw you was back on Punk Hazard. After escaping, Law was now on the thousand sunny. And he regretted it very soon. Luffy thought that an alliance was something to eat or a friendship pact. He always thought that Luffy was annoying with this friendly and joyful temper but you? You were louder and happier than your captain.

Law soon retreats, looking around the sunny.

As soon as he saw the medicine room he entered. “That furball is really a doctor huh?” He inspected everything closely. Noticing a lot of bottles with different herbs, powders and flowers inside.

Law took one out of the shelves, reading the label with a frown expression.

“Never heard of it…” he murmured to himself.

“This is a special one. I created it by mixing those two herbs together. It’s an ointment for bruised and even burns”

A soft voice was heard and Law turned around in shock. You stood there, in your hands were the two herbs you talked about. “You did this?” Law asked.

You nodded. “Yep I’m a pharmacist you know? Chopper is the yin to my yang. We are a good team.”

Law blinked a few times, slightly confused.

“I’m surprised.”

“Thought so. People always assume that I am an idiot or just naive. And you know why?” You asked, walking towards your desk, grabbing a notebook.

Law observed every movement of yours closely.

A soft and yet sad smile was on your face as you turned towards him, looking him directly in his eyes. You offered him the notebook. “Because I always wear a smile and show nothing but joy and happiness. You thought so as well, right?”

Law couldn’t help but blush as your words. Taking the notebook from your hands and trying to avoid your gaze. “I didn’t -”

“I hate when people are lying.  It’s ok because it might be for the best. People should underestimate me. That is the best way to help Luffy and the rest of the strawhats. Just be honest with me please.”

Law couldn’t help but staring back at you. “You are quite the clever girl.”

This time the smile was reaching your eyes as they began to sparkle once more, like back there at Sabaody.

“Really? Wow, that's a huge compliment coming from you. If you wanna read some of my research, go for it.”

“Will do it. Thank you.” A smile was on your face…again.

He sighed. Law was about to leave the room but turned around at the door frame. “I should be honest right? Even though your smile annoys me at first, it is still pretty.”

You couldn’t help but blush, trying to sutter a sentence but the words didn’t wanna come out.

Law couldn’t help but smirk. “Good night y/n-ya”

The following days he read your notebook, impressed about your knowledge. He didn’t think that you would be smart and strategic. You only made dumb jokes along your crew. And everytime he saw you enjoying your everyday life with the people around you or being clumsy, he felt a little at home. It was like his crew and corazon was there with him.

The third time he noticed you, really noticed you was back at Zou. After rejoining you and the rest of the strawhats after departing ways in dressrosa he was glad that his crew was safe and sound. Thanks to you, Chopper and the rest of the strawhats.

“Captain!! This girl is such a lifesaver. It stung a little but now I have no ouchies any more.”

Bepo said while cuddling Law.

“Captain Y/N-chan should join us. She is a perfect match for our team.” Shachi said.

Penguin nodded. “She is a perfect match for me as well…”Shachi  punched his friend in the ribs. “I mean for our team. Hehe. But seriously captain. She is the perfect fit for us.”

Law could see that you made a good impression. You were such a sweetheart towards his crew, smiling and laughing with them. Dancing and singing with Shachi and Penguin at the party later that night. They were right. You would be a perfect match for the crew, but the truth was, you were part of the strawhat crew.

The night went on and soon enough they fell asleep one by one. Law was sitting near the campfire, enjoying this peaceful and calm night sky.

He closed his eyes. Everytime your smile was on his mind, since the day he first saw you on Sabaody. But after spending time with you on Punk Hazard and on the ship, your eyes and your sweet nature was all he could think of.

Law noticed right away that someone was right beside him.

As he opened his eyes, he saw you. Standing there with a light blush in front of him.

“Sorry to disturb you, Traffy but…”

You looked shyly towards the ground.

“You don’t disturb me… and what is a Traffy?”

You looked up at him and a big smile was on you.

“That’s my nickname for you. Is that ok?”

You asked nervously while taking a seat next to him.

He couldn’t help but notice how cute you were looking right now.

“Call me ‘Traffy’ if you want but not when the others are around.”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“Calling you ‘honey’ in front of them is more embarrassing.”

His face turned crimson red. “W-Where is this coming from?”

“So can I call you Traffy now in front of everyone?”

“Only if I can call you ‘sunshine’ in front of everyone.” He smirked. He knew you would be so shy and easy to tease. You would surely deny it.

“Do you mean it?” Your voice was a mere whisper, a deep red was seen on your face even in the dark. Law couldn’t help but turn his head away from you. “I said it so you could stop with this nickname nonsense but…you remind me of a ray of sunshine. In a good way.”

Law could feel your head leaning onto his side.

“I’m glad that you don’t hate my sunny personality anymore. And I’m glad that your crew doesn’t hate me as well.

He laughed. “Please you are like them. There is no way anyone would hate you, for being yourself.”

“You have a beautiful laugh, Trafalgar.”

Law froze in place.

He turned his head towards you again, looking at you. You were already looking at him and soon enough your eyes met.

“I should probably go.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “Are you tired?”

He swallowed hard. “Not yet but it might be for the best.”

Your eyes scanned his gaze and his lips.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Would it be such a catastrophe if I told you that I fell for you?”

Law couldn’t help but caress your cheek. “Would it be selfish of me? Being a part of your crew? After we finish our mission?”

Your foreheads touched and you could feel the warmth of one another.

“It might be a mistake to love me.”

“You had such a hard life. Your crew loves you and wants to help you. I wanna love and help you as well.”

Your soft lips kissed his foreheads in a loving manner.

His hand holding yours, caressing the back of it with his thumb.

“Let me be your sunshine please.”

His lips found yours. The kiss was gentle and loving. “You sure a grumpy cat like me deserved such a ray of sunshine?”

“100% sure”

[luiluvr]

let it grow || luigi mangione

dad!luigi i love u forever :( based off this request! spent a lot of time listening to let it grow, cause the Lorax soundtrack goes hard, also this is to the person who wanted boy dad luigi!! <3

WARNINGS: none! no uses of y/n, & i didn't give the kids a name this time — leaving it to ur imagination! slightly proof read

SUMMARY: after taking a wind-down shower, you hear murmurs from the kid's bedroom, Luigi is reading them his (and their) favorite bedtime story: The Lorax.

WC: 1k

The Lorax. Always The Lorax. 

Luigi’s all-time favorite as a child, he was so giddy when you both finally had children of your own – he made sure he had the book on hand at all times. Even when they were babies that didn’t fathom what was happening; he’d read to them. Again and again, honestly you get sick of hearing the same story all the time. It’s meaningful to him, which is respectable, for it being a children’s book it reflects the real world plenty.

Most kids wanted to read other books by now, but your two sons never complained once when they asked Luigi to read to them. When he pulled out The Lorax, they’d be so excited. They just loved hearing him read, he had this aura. He would express the characters so well, exclaim and imitate sounds; so the kids preferred him reading over you. You read to them every so often when Luigi wasn't readily available, but besides then, he was theirs for bedtime stories.

For the night you left Luigi to get the kids tucked in to bed while you showered, you needed that fifteen-minutes of peace and quiet, he never turned down the opportunity to do something with the kids while benefiting you in the process.

You managed to wash off, get your hair dried so it wasn’t uncomfortable to sleep at night. Luigi didn’t seem too invested in doing a lot tonight, so you figured he wouldn’t. Until you went out into your room and heard some murmuring down the hallway. You raise an eyebrow and slowly walk towards the noise, mid-cleaning your ears.

“That was long, long ago. But each day since that day I've sat here and worried and worried away. Through the years, while my buildings have fallen apart, I've worried about it with all of my heart.” Luigi’s voice echoes softly as you peer into the door, smirking softly as he uses his best Once-ler voice.

“But now,” he says softly, “Now that you're here, the word of the Lorax seems perfectly clear. UNLESS someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not.” The two boys with thick curls on their small heads, similar to Luigi’s – look at him. Listening intently. Despite hearing this story a hundred times before, it was as if they were still taking it in for the first time – all over again. They were curled on either side of him, watching the pages. 

His gaze shifts to the boys, and he smiles, not quite finished reading but wanting to interact. “So, what does that mean exactly?” 

“If somebody doesn’t care, then nothing’s gonna get better?” For kids their age, they caught onto things well. Or it’s the fact Luigi has explained every waking detail of this book even though they 100% didn’t understand the worldly concepts connected to the writings.

“That’s right, so suppose something’s not right in your life, you have to care a lot about it to actually fix it. You can say ‘yeah, I want to be better about this,’ but never do anything. It can also mean about different timeline movements that changed our world today. Like racial equality, or women’s rights. If no one ever actually cared enough to change those things, do you think the world would be how it is?”

“No.” The youngest says. He’s only three-years-old so his vocabulary was still a work in progress. 

“I don’t think so dad.” The older boy murmurs from his bed.

“You’re right,” he began, until your older boy interrupted. “Dad, do you think when Dr. Seuss was  writing that he was thinking about the world we live in rather than the one he created?” His voice was pitchy, and he stumbled on a few words, but for a five-year-old it was rather impressive – even to you.

Luigi smiled at that, he was so proud his boy was learning, soon the youngest would pick up on it too, he was just too little right now. He only liked the drawings – a very simple boy. “Absolutely, kiddo. If I could prove any theory I’ve ever had, it would be this book, right here,” he gestures at the small hard-back cover he’s had since he was a child. “Is based on our reality.” 

It always fascinated you how Luigi had such a way with the two little ones. “So… Catch!’ Calls the Once-ler. He let something fall. ‘It’s a Truffula seed. The last one of all! You're in charge of the last of the Truffula Seeds. And Truffula Trees are what everyone needs. Plant a new Truffula. Treat it with care. Give it clean water. And feed it fresh air. Grow a forest. Protect it from axes that hack. Then the Lorax and all of his friends may come back.’

“They let it grow!!” Your oldest giggles. He really liked the book, but Luigi recently introduced them to the animated film, and he adored the music the most.

“They let it grow indeed.” He smiles.

Luigi flipped through the final two pages, gently shut the book and gazed over his sons. They gave him cheesy grins as he sat the book on a small shelf by the bedside, your oldest scurried back to his bed across the room, while the youngest admired his father – and for a moment his eyes flicker to you.

You winked at him before Luigi gave them both goodnight kisses. In unison their youthful voices, “Night daddy!” 

“Goodnight you two, get lots of sleep. I love you.”

“Love you too!” 

“Wuv you!”

Luigi chuckled, and turned off their lamp, leaving only the illumination from a small dinosaur night light you bought when your first was born. You waited outside, causing Luigi to jump slightly when he shut the door. “You’re always lurking around, y’know that?”

You chuckle, “yes, how cruel of me… Those kids are going to be able to repeat that book word for word one day.”

“Yeah, well. It teaches them a really important lesson.”

“Does it?”

“Very much so, my love.”

“And what’s that?" You grin, holding his arm as you both walk to your room.

"That I was the only one willing to read to them."

[kxsagi]

Heyyyyy pretty, hope you're doing great!!!! I have a request (I'm never stopping to haunt you everywhere in your notification) so i don't have any characters in mind for this so you can choose (expect Kaiser) x reader where reader has a plush or merch of them and like wears it or keeps it somewhere obvious around their house cause she's proud of the player/star they became

Thank you beforehand!!!!!💕 and also here's some flowers cause you deserve them💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐💐

“𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲”

a/n: heyyy lovey i’m doing well and i hope you are too! thank you for the flowers 🥹🥰

i couldn’t choose so i turned this into headcanons instead if that’s okay! (this is my first time doing so asknksnsldnglslkfgs) + i'm so sorry but i love kaiser

ft. isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, reo mikage, chigiri hyoma, itoshi rin, karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu, itoshi sae, kaiser michael

isagi yoichi - “you love showing off your boyfriend’s success”

🧸 you have a shelf dedicated to his memorabilia, including a signed jersey and a plush doll of him, placed proudly in the living room. 

🧸 when friends or family visit, you subtly point it out, saying things like, "oh, that's just his plush. it’s adorable, right?"

🧸 you’ll send your boyfriend pictures of his merch around your shared house, playfully teasing him about how much you’re surrounded by him. 

⚽ he’s a bit shy but incredibly touched, replying, “wow, you really have a whole shrine to me. i guess I’m flattered… or should i be worried?” 

bachira meguru - “you keep his merch in unexpected places” 

🧸 you keep a small plush of him in your car, so when you’re driving, you can glance at it and think of him. 

🧸 you always have his keychain on your bag, a subtle but constant reminder of his accomplishments. 

🧸 his signed soccer ball sits on your desk as your little good luck charm whenever you work. 

⚽ he’s genuinely touched, but also amused, texting you, “i didn’t realize you were taking me everywhere. maybe i should get a tiny version of you to keep in my locker too. that way, i’ll always have you with me!” 

nagi seishiro - “you create little rituals around his fame”

🧸 on game nights, you’ll watch his match with his plush sitting next to you, as if the plush is cheering along with you. 

🧸 after each match, whether he wins or loses, you take a selfie with his jersey and plush, sending it to him with a sweet message like, “you did amazing!” 

⚽ he laughs and shakes his head, playfully replying, “you’re going to have me beat by the plush at this rate lol. but seriously, you make me feel like i’m your MVP every game.”

reo mikage - “you love to surprise him with little gifts”

🧸 after an important game, you’ll gift him personalized items with his jersey number or even something referencing his childhood. 

🧸 sometimes, you get him exclusive limited-edition items from his own brand or the team, showing just how much you support him beyond just the merch. 

⚽ he’s touched by your thoughtful gifts, often pulling you into a hug and saying, “you’re too much, you know that? this means more than you’ll ever realize. i’m so lucky to have you.” 

chigiri hyoma - “your friends know how much you love him and his journey” 

🧸 whenever you talk about your relationship, you’ll mention his soccer career with glowing pride, even bringing up how you proudly display his merch at home. 

🧸 your friends always know which game he's playing next because you can’t help but talk about how excited you are for him. you even have a countdown for his next match on your phone screen. 

⚽ he shakes his head, laughing at how much you talk about him, “you’re so proud of me, i feel like i should give a speech or something. but seriously, i’m grateful you’re always cheering me on.” 

itoshi rin - “you’re his biggest fan, even in private moments” 

🧸 you wear his team’s merchandise (like a hoodie or a cap) while the two of you hang out at home. 

🧸 sometimes, you’ll wear his jersey to bed, saying it’s comfy, but it’s also a reminder of how proud you are of him. 

🧸 every time he scores, you’ll replay the highlights and cheer for him like you’re at the stadium. 

⚽ he grins and playfully teases you, “you’re the best cheerleader i’ve ever had. but, if i’m being honest, i think you wear my jersey better than i do.” 

karasu tabito - “you tease him about how famous he’s become” 

🧸 when you’re out in public with him, you playfully mention how you might need a bodyguard soon since people keep asking for his autograph. 

🧸 you’ll jokingly “fight” over him with fans who try to take pictures with him, saying, “hey, he’s mine, back off!”

🧸 you refer to his plush as "his mini-me" and makes it clear that you’re not jealous of his fame, you’re proud of him. 

⚽ he laughs and playfully pulls you closer, saying, “you’re too cute. if you want, i’ll just stay by your side so no one else can have me.” 

yukimiya kenyu - “you cherish his personal touch on his merchandise”

🧸 you keep a collection of his signed posters and photos framed around the house, often adding little notes on them like “best goal ever” or “miss you here.”

🧸 every time you buy a new piece of his merch, you take a picture of it and send it to him with a text saying, “i got another piece of you.”

⚽ he’s a little speechless and incredibly moved, replying, “you’ve really made me feel like i’m part of your home… and your heart. i’ll never take that for granted.” 

itoshi sae - “you have a soft spot for his signature items” 

🧸 his signed cleats sit on a display stand in your shared bedroom, and you always tell visitors about the first time you saw him wear them. 

🧸 every time he gives you a new item – whether it's his hoodie or a scarf from his team – you wear it immediately and don’t take it off for days. 

⚽ he finds it both adorable and a little funny, sending you a message, “i can’t believe you wear everything i give you like it’s your personal uniform. i must be doing something right.” 

kaiser michael - “you’re never afraid to show off your pride” 

🧸 you’ll bring your plush to any event or social gathering they attend together, saying, “i’m taking my boyfriend with me!” 

🧸 even if the two of you are just relaxing, you’ll throw on one of his team scarves, proudly draping it around your neck as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

🧸 sometimes, you even match your outfits to his team colors, always making sure your accessories tie back to his career, as if you're subtly celebrating him wherever the two of you go.

⚽ he raises an eyebrow and chuckles, “is this how it’s going to be now? you’re taking my plush to the grocery store too?” he laughs, adding, “i love it. you make me feel like i’m on top of the world.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[love-quinn]

— COMPLETELY UNREAL

summary — despite your best efforts, remus lupin is determined to get to know you.

warnings — reader with general anxiety

pairing — remus lupin x fem!reader

pronouns — she/her

word count — 2.1k

note — clearing out my drafts, this has been here 5ever. enjoy

The common room was one of your least favourite places to be, but your dorm room was worse, so there you were. It was getting late, and you had a potions assignment due the next day, so you were sitting in a quiet corner trying to work on it. Well, trying to want to work on it. You were only just passing by the skin of your teeth, and if you failed this essay then it would bring your grade down from an Acceptable to a Poor, and that meant that you wouldn’t be able to get the NEWTS you needed. You weren’t sure what those NEWTS were, as the idea of having to do anything after finishing school filled you with fear, but you figured it probably would have something to do with potions. You sort of just picked the electives you enjoyed and then did your best.

Unfortunately, your best didn’t seem to be good enough with this essay, as you had been working on it nonstop for the past four days and you still had another 10 inches of parchment left.

“Disfigurement,” a voice came from above you. You looked up from your homework at a boy, looking bashfully at your parchment.

“Excuse me?”

He had the good graces to look embarrassed by the way you were looking up at him. “Disfigurement is one of the major side effects of using lacewing flies in the potion, a big part of the reason that it’s level three restricted by the ministry,”

Now, normally, a man standing above you and explaining something that you already knew would absolutely ruin your day, Merlin only knew it happened often enough. But normally, the men doing it didn’t look like they were talking about it out of pure interest.

His eyes got slightly dimmer as he realised your annoyance, a darkened honey colour that people wrote songs about. “Sorry, I should’ve- Just because you paused writing doesn’t mean you didn’t know what you were talking about. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You decided on after a minute. You knew who he was, of course, you didn’t spend seven years in the same grade as someone without learning their name, but you were nearly one hundred percent certain he didn’t know yours.

“I just came over for…” he gestured uselessly at the small collection of cups on the table beside you, with a metal pitcher of ice cold water that stayed full no matter how much you poured it. A group of boys in your year had tried to use it to flood the common room one time. You had a sneaking suspicion the boy in front of you had been involved, despite the fact that he never received detention for it like the others did.

“Go for it.”

He poured two glasses of water and paused, looking at you. “I really am sorry. I’ve offended you.”

“I’m not offended,” you replied honestly. “I normally would be, but I’ll allow it just this once.”

The boy cracked a smile, slightly crooked, and it evened out his whole face, as though he had been created just to smile like that. “Thank you, then.” He corrected softly. “For not being offended by my interruption.” He put the cups down gently and looked for a moment as though he might shake your hand, before thinking better of it and leaving them hanging uselessly by his side. “I’m Remus.”

“So I’ve heard,” you didn’t mean to sound pretentious. “I just mean- we share a lot of classes, so I’ve seen you around a lot.” Now it was your turn to be embarrassed.

Remus continued smiling. “No, I know. I see you all the time. You always snag the good table in the library.” He gestured to you, testing your name out experimentally on his tongue, as though afraid to get it wrong. You nodded.

You liked studying in the library because it made you feel like an actual student. Doing homework on your bed, while the more common alternative, made you feel as though you were doing it wrong somehow. As if, because you hadn’t put in the effort to go all the way to the library and bring your study materials with you that you didn’t deserve to do well on whatever it is you were working on. “Do I?” your voice sounded far away, even to yourself.

“I’ll forgive you, though,” Remus said good naturedly, noticing your change in tone. This interaction had gone on far too long for your liking. You were beginning to feel exhausted. How embarrassing.

Talking to strangers for longer than ten seconds makes my stomach do a backflip, you thought bitterly to yourself. That was why your dorm room didn’t feel as welcoming as it was perhaps meant to. The girls in there talked, like they were friends. And they were friends, it was easy to see that.

You’d been so removed when you first started at Hogwarts, when you were only eleven. So overwhelmed by the hundreds of rooms and the hundreds of students, that when your roommates stayed up all night chattering and getting to know one another, you had felt nothing inside you aside from a desire to go to sleep. It took weeks before your nerves calmed enough to even attempt to contribute to their conversations, and by the time you had realised that maybe you did want to be friends with them, they had accepted your silence.

You gave Remus an awkward smile, the polar opposite of the one he’d given you. As if your grinning was a defect, not something you were designed to do. Sometimes it felt like maybe you weren’t.

He was still standing there. How could you make him go away without explicitly telling him to? You felt nauseous, squirmy under his gaze. Why hadn’t he left yet? “That essay Slughorn gave us is a real doozy, isn’t it?”

You cracked a real, genuine smile at his word choice. You didn’t know anyone who used the word ‘doozy’ and the best part was, it seemed to be entirely unironic. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I was planning on spending the afternoon up in the library, working on it.” His hand fiddled with the hem of his button-up. “Any chance I could sit at the good table?”

You nodded almost instantly. “Yeah, no, sure. It’s all yours. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hog.”

“You’re not,” he let out a breathy laugh. “You’re jumpy, aren’t you?” You felt it, and your cheeks burned at the notion that he could tell. “If you wanted to still study at your same table, and I was also to study there, both of us in complete silence, then I don’t think that would be so bad?”

Remus could see that you wanted to say no, and he didn’t want to push it if you were clearly uninterested, but he also knew that it had been seven years of you being the only Gryffindor girl he’d never spoken to, and also being the only Gryffindor girl he’d ever felt a strong desire to speak to. The others were great, sure, Lily and Marlene had become friends to him more concretely now that Lily and James were seeing each other, and Alice had always been sweet. You, on the other hand, had been described by your roommates as sad. Not ‘pathetic’ sad, but a more deep sadness.

“She’s awfully kind,” Marlene had told him once, hushed in the back of a History Against Magic Lesson. He hadn’t remembered how your name had been brought up. “Think she just likes it quiet.”

“The table’s yours,” you offered. “It’s okay. I can just study down here, it’s warmer.”

“It’s louder, though,” Remus reasoned. “Up there there’s no… well, no guys coming over here to explain something you probably already understand.”

“I thought you said you were going to be there?” You were genuinely confused at what he was asking of you by this point, but he laughed it off. You staved off a frown.

“I always find that homework is nicest when you’ve got someone there,” he offered finally. “Even if you’re not talking, just purely sitting there.”

You didn’t see how that would help at all. You’d probably be too distracted by anyone to even get any work done. But, you realised with a start, the notion of someone wanting to spend time in your vicinity, as innocent as Remus’s intentions were, made your heart ache.

He probably just wanted to be able to sit at the good table without putting you out, you understood that. But at the same time, if he really wanted to sit there, and he really wanted to not disrupt your routine, then you didn’t see why not, even though maintaining eye contact with him for any longer than a second felt as though you were going to combust in a caramel-irised explosion.

“You can come,” you conceded, gently, hoping as not to come off rude or too territorial about your space. Perhaps it would be better if you studied outside, or in an empty classroom. That way you weren’t getting in his way.

“Excellent,” he was talking too loud, and he could tell that by the way you shrank back in your seat.  “Maybe I can finally get my transfiguration grade up, Merlin knows you’re doing well in that class.”

Why would he say that? That made him come across as a stalker who knew all your grades. He hoped you didn’t think that implied you did need help in potions. Your reactions weren’t giving him much, and it was making him nervous. He definitely shouldn’t have come over here, but he had been scrambling for something to say, and now he had to take water over despite the fact that no one had asked for water.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” You closed your textbook so gently it didn’t even make a paper noise as the cover closed. “But if you really do need help, then I might be able to.” You offered him one final smile, cheeks tinged with a visible blush.

You hoped he couldn’t see how dizzy you were getting. You wanted to go to sleep and pretend this was all a dream so you could go back to ignoring Remus’s existence like he could go back to ignoring yours.

Unfortunately for you, though, he’d found your little hidey-hole study space that you occupied yesterday, coming in to tease you light heartedly about abandoning him for transfiguration. You didn’t not want to talk to Remus, it was nothing about him. He’d been nothing but sweet and funny in the very limited interactions you’d shared, you were the issue.

“Should’ve known you’d ditch me,” he’d said with a sigh as he sat down, opening his textbook up. You found you didn’t mind his being there as long as you weren’t expected to contribute much to the conversation.

“Thought it would be obvious.” You’d attempted to match his airiness in your tone. It came out strangled.

He sighed gently. “I wanted to pretend it wasn’t so, sweetheart. I thought you and me had something special. I told you about disfigurement in potions and you tell me about disfigurement in transfiguration.”

He’d been attempting to do the spell for about an hour, trying to turn a ball of yarn into a scarf. It was a simple spell that’d normally be of no issue to him, but he just couldn’t get it this time.

After nearly forty minutes of mumbling all but silently to himself so as not to disturb you, you had enough. You reached over and, so delicately he’d thought at first it was simply a breeze, uttered the spell while controlling his hand movements. A long, thickly knitted navy scarf burst from the ball of wool, landing pooled by his crossed legs. You looked up at him, expecting to be reprimanded for the touching, knowing you would have done exactly the same.

“You’re not real,” he said after a moment. Sometimes you felt that way too. “We’re officially studying together every time now.” He grinned to himself, picking up the scarf and wrapping it securely around your neck multiple times, tucking the ends into your jumper. It was soft. “Every single time, you little wonder.” You maybe didn’t mind as much this time as you had when he’d last suggested it. Your smile was almost hidden behind the mass of fabric you’d just helped him conjure, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see it.

[cheshireliam]

"The Past Records: Liam Evans & Harrison Gray" Party Event: Chapter 2

Beyond The Red Herring

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Ellis: “There’s no need to get along”... I can’t imagine you two ever saying that to each other right now. 

Roger: So how did you end up getting along?

Liam: I think our first mission together acted as a major turning point in our friendship. Do you still remember it, Harry? 

Harrison: Yeah, of course. 

Harrison: We were completely out of sync back then, compared to now… 

Harrison’s lips twitched like he just swallowed something bitter, and then he began recounting the events of that mission—

<< Harrison’s POV >>

Our first mission was to investigate a corrupt police officer who aided in a criminal's escape in exchange for monetary gain.

But the target realised someone was watching him, and set up a trap for us instead—. 

…

While hiding ourselves behind a shipping container, we struggled to catch our breaths.

Liam: *pant*, *pant*... Harry, you alive…?

Harrison: … I am. Also… don’t call me by any nicknames.

Liam: Ahaha… if you still have the energy to complain about nicknames, I guess your condition isn't too bad… 

Superficial wounds caused by bullets grazing our skin marked our arms and legs. 

They weren’t life threatening, but our situation was far from ideal. 

Liam: … I can’t believe we walked right into a fake deal and almost got killed by mercenaries hired by the target. 

A certain phrase suddenly came to my mind, “Red Herring”.

It was a classic misdirection tactic seen in mystery novels, used to lead the reader away from the truth by diverting their attention onto something false. 

We had taken the bait and failed to notice the mercenaries sneaking up behind us.

Liam: At a glance, I’d say we have about 10 of them surrounding the warehouse.

Harrison: Sitting here won’t solve anything. They’ll discover us sooner or later. We’ll make a move at the same time.

Harrison: They don’t seem very skilled. With two of us striking together, we might be able to create an opening. 

Liam: Okay, counting down. 3…

Harrison: 2…

Liam: 1! 

Liam jumped out of hiding first.

Liam: Eh!? Why didn’t you move on “1”!?

Harrison: I thought we were counting down as in “3, 2, 1, go”...! 

Liam: You should’ve said so earlier! 

That was no time to be squabbling about our differences in countdown methods— 

Male Mercenary: They’re over there! Kill them!! 

— Several guns pointed at us. 

…

Alfons: What would your way of counting down be, Lord Elbie?

Elbert: Ready, go? 

Liam: Lord Elbie’s so cute! 

Ellis: What about Jude? 

Jude: Use yer brain to figure it out. 

Liam: Jude’s harsh! 

Jude: If ya really need one, I’d say “ready set go”. 

Liam: Oh, that’s exactly what Harry said later on! 

Harrison: That’s because no one in their right mind would get confused with that simple three-step countdown. 

Harrison: Anyway… we really were completely out of sync back then.

Ellis: But since you two are still alive, that means the mission was a success, right? 

Harrison: Kinda. Honestly, it was sheer luck. 

— And so, the Lying Fox recounted the past once more. 

…

Liam: … Good work, Harry.

Harrison: … You too.

The men we took down laid unconsciousness around us. 

Liam: Still… ahahahaha!! 

Liam: Messing up a countdown…! I… I’ve never been in a near death situation over something so stupid before…! 

Harrison: Haha… it really is stupid. 

Free from the crushing tension of a life-or-death situation, we felt an odd sense of camaraderie. 

Liam: Your shooting was amazing, Harry! Every bullet fired was bullseye! 

Harrison: You’re exaggerating. It wasn’t that perfect. 

Harrison: Besides… I was only able to aim well because you kept disappearing and throwing them off. 

Liam: Ahaha… then I guess this win belongs to both of us 

While still lying on the ground, Liam extended a hand toward me.

The day we first met, I saw through his lie about us possibly “getting along” and refused to shake his hand.

(But I guess it’s fine now.) . 

Acknowledging that we survived because of both our efforts, I reached out and shook Liam’s hand. 

Harrison: … But I do have a complaint about the way you fight. 

Liam: Whaa? A complaint? 

Harrison: You kept running right into my line of fire. What if I shot you by mistaken 

Harrison: The way you move, it’s as if…

I couldn't bring myself to say it was as if he “had a death wish”. 

Liam: Ahaha… I just like the thrill. 

Harrison: Have you already forgotten what my curse’s ability is?

I hinted to Liam that I knew he was lying.

He responded with an awkward laugh.

Liam: Right. You can tell when I’m lying, huh. 

Liam: The reason why I never hesitate to put myself in danger… 

Liam’s lips were moving, like he wanted to say something, but the words never left his mouth. 

Liam: Huh? That’s strange, sorry… I can’t seem to put it into words. 

Harrison: … You don't have to.

Harrison: Like I’ve told you before, we’re only colleagues. 

Harrison: The only things we need to be telling each other about are the signals for making a move during missions, and details of our abilities…

Harrison: How fast we can run, how well we can swim… that sort of stuff. 

Harrison: As for the things buried deep within your heart… there’s no need for me to know about them. 

Harrison: Just as long as I know you’re the kind of guy who willingly throws himself into danger’s way, that’s enough for me.

Liam: … You’re kind, Harry.

Liam’s soft voice melted away into the night air.

At that moment, I thought of the term “Red Herring” again.

Just like how a mystery novel misled its readers, diverting their attention from the truth…

Perhaps, I was also being misled by lies and thus unable to see the real Liam. 

[bananasplit133]

OH THANK GOD, I'VE BEEN SO DEPRAVED OF CONQUEST CONTENT, ILY 🙏🙏

I'll make sure to stalk your page from now on, love your work ❤️❤️ (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

THANKS, ANON!!! HERE'S YOUR LITTLE CONQUEST FANFIC!!!

After the Fall

Conquest/Reader (Conquest appreciation post)

-----

The streets of the city lay in ruins, remnants of the chaos left by recent battles scattered everywhere. Buildings were reduced to piles of debris, and the air was thick with dust and a sense of despair. You navigated carefully through the wreckage, your heart heavy with determination. Supplies were running low, and injured civilians were in desperate need of help.

As you turned a corner, you spotted a few people huddled together, whispering nervously. You approached them, ready to offer what little assistance you could muster. But before you could reach them, a flicker of movement caught your eye.

In the distance, you saw a figure hovering slightly above the ground. The person was dressed in flowing white clothing, and though he appeared old, there was something unsettlingly powerful about him. His stance was rigid, fists clenched at his sides, and you felt an instinctual wariness creep over you.

You hesitated for a moment, weighing your options. The streets were already filled with too much fear; you didn’t want to provoke anyone, but curiosity tugged at you. Gathering your courage, you stepped closer to the figure, calling out, “Excuse me! Are you alright?”

As you approached, the man turned to face you, and your heart skipped a beat. One of his eyes was blind, while the other bore into you with an intensity that made you swallow hard. “Who dares to approach me?” he asked, his voice low and rumbling.

“I’m just trying to help,” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “There are a lot of injured people around. I thought you might need assistance, too.”

He studied you for a moment, confusion evident on his face. “You approach me, a being of power, without any weapon? You are either foolish or brave.”

“Maybe a little of both,” you replied, a hint of defiance creeping into your tone. “But I’m not afraid to help someone in need, even if you don’t look like a normal civilian.”

“Normal civilians tend to avoid me,” he said, his voice cold. “They know the consequences of approaching someone like me.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling your irritation rise. “And what does that say about you? If people are too scared to come near you, maybe you should rethink your approach.”

The figure seemed taken aback by your words, and for a brief moment, his expression shifted. “You speak with conviction,” he said, a hint of curiosity breaking through his otherwise serious demeanor. “Most would cower at the sight of me.”

“I’m not most people,” you replied, crossing your arms. “What’s your name?”

“They call me Conquest,” he said, his voice steady. “And conquering... is precisely what I intend to do here.”

“Great. Another villain with a superiority complex,” you muttered under your breath, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “You really think you can just come in here and take over? Look around you—this place is already a wreck.”

“I do what is necessary,” he replied, his tone unwavering. “The weak must be ruled by the strong, or chaos will reign.”

“And what about the people who are trying to rebuild?” you challenged. “They need hope, not fear. You think conquering is the answer? You’re wrong.”

“Hope is a fleeting emotion,” Conquest stated, his voice steady. “It crumbles in the face of reality. Fear ensures compliance and order.”

“Order based on fear isn’t true order,” you argued, feeling the heat of the moment intensifying. “People need to feel safe, not terrorized. If you keep using fear as your tool, you’ll only create more enemies.”

He floated closer, and you felt a surge of adrenaline. “You presume to lecture me on how to rule? I have faced countless foes, and none have stood before me with such audacity.”

“Someone has to challenge you,” you said defiantly, refusing to back down. “People can’t live like this, and I won’t let you dictate how things should be.”

Conquest studied you, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You are intriguing, human. Most would have submitted to my power, yet you confront it directly.”

“Maybe I’m just tired of all the villains thinking they can walk all over us,” you replied, a mix of frustration and determination fueling your words. “You think strength comes from terrorizing people, but it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“Strength is all that matters in this world,” he said, his tone firm. “You are naive if you believe otherwise.”

“Maybe I am,” you admitted. “But I’ve seen what happens when fear reigns. It doesn’t unite; it divides. If you want to conquer, you’ll only create more chaos.”

He took a step back, the tension between you thickening. “Your conviction is commendable, but it may also lead to your downfall.”

“Maybe,” you replied, feeling a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. “But I’d rather fight for what’s right than submit to someone like you.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, and you could see the conflict brewing in his expression. He stepped closer again, looming over you, and your heart raced.

“I have seen many come before me, and they all feared what I could do,” he said, his voice low. “And yet, you stand here, challenging me. It’s… amusing.”

“Glad I can entertain you,” you replied, crossing your arms defiantly. “But I’m not just here for your amusement.”

“You are certainly more resilient than most,” he mused, his tone shifting slightly. “But you should understand that I do not play games. I am here to conquer, but I shall find Invincible first. Tell me where he is located.”

“And if I refuse to help you?” you asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Then you will remain in the dark,” he replied, his tone cool. “I will not hesitate to act, and you will find that I am not a force to be trifled with.”

“Great, just what I need,” you said, feeling a mix of annoyance and determination. “Another villain thinking they can control everything.”

He tilted his head, clearly intrigued by your boldness. “You are quite feisty for someone so vulnerable. I find that amusing. Do you truly believe you can stand against me?”

“I don’t have to stand against you,” you replied, your heart racing. “But I won’t let you hurt anyone in the process. People deserve better than to live in fear of you.”

With a flicker of movement, he was suddenly in front of you, towering over you with an intensity that made you stumble back slightly. You caught your breath, looking up at him in surprise.

“Such spirit,” he said, almost admiringly. “But do not think that your bravado will shield you from the realities of this world.”

Before you could respond, Conquest leaned down, his lips brushing against yours in a startling kiss. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and he pulled back just enough to draw blood. You felt a jolt of shock and confusion, your cheeks flushing as you processed what had just happened.

He groaned at the taste, an unexpected sound that sent a shiver through you. “You are intriguing,” he said, his tone shifting slightly. “But I have a mission to complete. I will find Invincible.”

You stood there, stunned and blushing, unsure of what to say. Conquest straightened, his demeanor changing as he returned to his more imposing self. “I will return for you after I deal with him.”

“Wait, what?” you managed to stammer, still trying to wrap your head around the kiss. “You can’t just—”

“I can and I will,” he replied, turning away, leaving you bewildered in the ruins. “Consider this a warning. You may find yourself drawn into a world you do not yet understand.”

As he floated away, you felt a mix of emotions swirling inside you—anger, confusion, and an unexpected thrill at the encounter. You had confronted Conquest, a being of immense power, and now you found yourself entangled in something far greater than you had anticipated.

You took a deep breath, the weight of the situation settling in. This was far from over, and you were determined to stand your ground. If Conquest thought he could just conquer everything without consequence, he was in for a surprise.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: happy two year hockeyblr writing anniversary to me! i’ve loved building a little community and friendships with all of you here and i am so excited to share this fic with you guys! i’ve been leaning into the angstier times of mat and squeaks’s relationship and this fic was one i was really excited to write. i love building their world and i hope you guys enjoy! and don’t worry, they’re going to get softer, fluffier, smuttier fics soon 😅 thank you for loving mat and squeaks as much as i do!

word count: 9.1k

tw: miscarriage, anxiety, depression, mentions of nausea and vomiting, negative self thoughts

summary: after another loss, mat has to hit to road for games. but he makes sure you’re not alone while you recover.

Everything blurs together after Mat brings you home from your OB/Gyn’s office, his hand crushing yours in a painful grip. You’re numb, sore and nauseous, and it feels like your body’s betrayed you.

Again.

“What do you need?” Mat asks quietly, helping you out of your dirty clothes and into loose loungewear. Even the faint pressure of the elastic band on your stomach sends another wave of pain through your body. You swipe at the tears welling in your eyes and shake your head.

“Nothing,” you mumble through numb lips, wincing when Mat helps you into bed. The disposable diaper you’re wearing - similar to what you’d worn for weeks after Talia had been born - crinkles as you shift and curl up. Your fingers feel cold and you tuck them up under your pillow. They shake a little and you twist them together.

You can hear Mat’s shaky sigh. Something sharp and ugly claws at your chest and you turn your face into your pillow, meeting minimal resistance as you try and hide from him, tears wetting the pillowcase as they leak steadily from your eyes. Mat shifts behind you, you can hear the fabric of his jeans brush together, and your heart skips a beat because you don’t think you can stand to be touched right now.

Luckily, unluckily, you don’t even know how you’re feeling right now, but either way, Mat doesn’t say anything else and he doesn’t try to touch you. You just hear his footsteps getting farther away and you sob harder into the pillow, muffling the sound as best you can.

You don’t hear Mat come back into the room, but you do hear the soft clink of a glass being left on the night table and the faint rattling of a pill bottle. Tylenol, because Mat was able to listen to your doctor while the blood all rushed to your head and created a staticky, white noise repetition of miscarriagemiscarriagemiscarriage in your ears.

The mattress dips and you can feel the heat of Mat’s body at your back. His hand hovers over your thigh and you hold your breath while he decides what to do. When that familiar hand lands softly on the outside curve of your thigh you shiver a little, biting your lip when his fingers flex against you, curling up a little and catching the fabric of your pants. He’s quiet and the room is heavy with your shared grief.

“Bo and Hol are going to keep Talia tonight,” Mat says and you can hear the way his voice shakes, the way he has to clear his throat. The way he has to pause before he continues. “She’s okay, excited to hang with them.”

“Is she…” you lift your face from the pillow, your stomach twisting with guilt. “Is she okay? I didn’t…”

“She’s okay,” Mat reassures you, fingers continuing to stroke at your thigh. “I don’t think she realized what was happening and Holly told her you had a bad stomach ache.”

Understatement of the fucking century.

“She’s okay,” Mat repeats. “Take the Tylenol and get some rest, okay? We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow.”

A cramp ripples across your stomach and you curl up into a tighter fetal position, shaking Mat’s hand off of your leg. You bury your face into the pillow again, muffling a groan. You can feel another rush of blood between your legs, like a period but a million times worse, and you press your hand to your lower stomach. The slight pressure helps a little, but then it hurts more and you cry until you can’t breathe.

Your whole body hurts and it’s not even over yet, the bleeding and cramping should last for a few more days according to your doctor.

Mat smooths a hand over the back of your head, the only place he can reach, and it’s comforting and painful all at the same time. You’d scared both Mat and Talia, no matter what he said, and you’d lost another baby. It feels like all the nerve endings in your body are sparking, coming alive after being asleep, and you shift away from Mat’s touch, pretending you can’t hear the surprised sound that leaves his mouth.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you know he’s hurting too, but you can’t be touched right now and you don’t know how to communicate that to Mat. Not when your usual MO is to be constantly physical with each other, holding hands and leaning against him.

He doesn’t say anything and you eventually feel him get up from the bed, drape a blanket over your curled up body, and then his footsteps are fading away as he leaves the room. You choke on a sob and clutch at the edge of the blanket, crushing it in your hands and holding it against your face.

You fall into a restless sleep, tossing and turning all night. You’re up and down to use the bathroom and get another Tylenol and to change the stupid fucking diaper you have to wear. Nothing is comfortable, no position gives you relief from the pain in your heart or stomach. You bunch pillows up behind your knees and in front of your chest, but it doesn’t help.

Mat isn’t in bed with you and you feel hollow when you wake up the first time and realize you’re alone. He’s probably in one of the guest rooms, just down the hall and within hearing distance if you call out for him, but you can’t manage to make your voice work. More than anything you want him here with you, but you can’t seem to call for him.

Every time you wake up and he’s not there, you feel worse and worse. Your stomach cramps and you cry, spiralling out until you exhaust yourself and fall asleep for a few hours.

This time when you wake up, it’s sunny outside, which feels particularly targeted. You squint against the sunlight streaming in around the blinds and curtains and struggle into a sitting position.

Everything hurts, your entire body feeling like it was hit by a bus. You shiver a little and rub at your eyes, hands shaking.

“Alexa,” you croak, voice completely obliterated from crying, “what time is it?”

“The time is 9:52 a.m.,” the robotic voice announces pleasantly and your stomach lurches. You can’t just stay in bed all day, you have Talia - and god, you don’t even know where she is, if she’s home or still with the Horvats. Guilt settles like a rock in your stomach. This isn’t the longest you’ve been away from her, but it’s probably the first time you missed saying good night to her. Even when you and Mat had gone away for a weekend and left her with Nadia and Mike, you’d FaceTimed every night to blow kisses and read a story.

The tears well up in your lower lash line again, falling without any hesitation. You’re a terrible mother.

In three and a half years, you’d never missed wishing Talia a good night and now you don’t even know if she’s with Mat or not.

Hiccuping a gasp and trying to breathe normally, you search for your phone, cramping with every movement. It’s on your charging pad on the night table and there’s a piece of paper on top of it, held in place by one of the vintage pink pig Beanie Babies your mom had dug out of storage for Talia. You lift the soft toy and hold it in a loose fist, pressing it against your heart for a beat before reaching for the paper.

Mat’s familiar messy scrawl brings a faint smile to your lips - ‘Left for practice. T is with Holly and I’ll get her this afternoon. She’s fine, having the time of her life. Eat, rest, sleep. Love you!’

The tears keep falling freely down your cheeks, dripping off your chin and onto the paper, blurring Mat’s handwriting into inky blobs. Your chest feels hollow and your whole body aches, but you manage to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. You keep the lights off and avoid looking in the mirror, not wanting to see your puffy, tear-stained face or the dead look in your eyes.

Mat left a sweatshirt out for you, an old worn out one from his Firebird days, and you pull it on over your shirt. It smells like laundry detergent, but if you bury your nose in the collar, you can detect the faintest hint of Mat and it makes you cry all over again. You were going to tell everyone else, post your announcement on Instagram, start getting ready to be a family of four. Twelve weeks was supposed to be safe, it was supposed to be okay.

Padding out of the bathroom, the rumpled sheets and duvet of your bed look appealing. All you want to do is climb back into bed and pretend the miscarriage isn’t happening.

But your lips are dry and chapped and your stomach clenches with hunger, so you make your way gingerly down to the kitchen. Talia’s toys are strewn around the landing, a mini stick half on the stairs. You nudge it to the side with your foot and reach your hand into the pocket of Mat’s sweatshirt and clutch the Beanie Baby for comfort.

You look through the cabinets and fridge for something that looks appealing, but nausea rolls through your body and your nose wrinkles at the smell of the fridge. You’re actively losing the baby, but your body and its heightened sense of smell doesn’t seem to have gotten the memo. Pressing your fist to your mouth to muffle a gag, you close the fridge and grab a half open package of saltines out of the pantry.

On the way back up to your room, you nibble at the corner of a cracker - stale because Talia never lets you keep a package closed for long - and it turns to sawdust in your mouth. You poke your tongue at the gummy mess of cracker sticking to the roof of your mouth and crumple the plastic in your hand, appetite getting even further away.

Your phone is vibrating on the charging pad when you get back into the room, screen lit up with your doctor’s name. Tossing the cracker sleeve onto the mattress, you grab up the phone and swipe to answer just before it goes to voicemail.

“Hello?” Your voice still sounds rusty and raw.

Your Ob/Gyn greets you warmly, “checking in to see how you’re doing.”

You shrug, knowing she can’t see you, “awful, but none of the extra symptoms or warning signs you said to look for.”

“Good to hear,” she says sincerely. “Call the office if anything changes and I have you scheduled for a follow up in a week, just to check on everything.”

“I remember, thanks, Dr. Harmon,” you reply quietly. You only remember because it’s halfway through Mat’s road trip, meaning you’ll have to manage the appointment and Talia on your own. You don’t know how you’re going to manage it with the almost physical weight of your grief weighing down your shoulders.

“Lean on your support,” Dr. Harmon reminds you before hanging up and you clutch your phone in your hand, the screen lighting up almost instantly with a text from Holly.

It’s a picture of Talia, Tulsa, and Gunnar in identical poses, laying on their stomachs with their chins in their hands and feet kicked in the air. They’re watching something on TV and paying no attention to Holly.

The picture is accompanied by a simple red heart and you tear up again. You hate that they know what’s going on, that it’s happening at all, but it’s easier knowing that you don’t have to explain yourself. Holly won’t push and you’re grateful for that.

A sharp cramp makes you wince and you toss your phone onto the bed, crawling back into the mess of blankets. You curl up in a ball, the position helping your back a little and easing some of the pain in your pelvis. Mat’s pillow gets pressed against your chest, his scent in your nose when you tuck your chin to your chest, trying to get as small as possible.

A tremble works its way through your body, you miss Mat and Talia so much it feels like a physical ache. They should be home soon, so you squeeze your eyes shut and drag the blankets up over your shoulders to block out the world.

At some point, you must’ve fallen asleep because a faint knock on the doorframe of your bedroom startles you and you feel even worse than before. Your body still hurts, your eyes feel gritty.

“Hey,” Mat’s voice carries softly into the room, “do you need anything?”

He doesn’t ask how you’re feeling because he knows the answer is ‘sad and shitty.’ But he does come into the room and lean down to brush your hair off your forehead. Mat studies you with his eyebrows drawn over his nose, his lips turned down in concern.

You shake your head. “No,” you murmur. “Just…did you get T? What time is it?”

“After three,” Mat’s hand curls around your cheek, thumb stroking at your cheekbone. “She’s downstairs, but I have to get going soon. Flight’s at 6.”

He sounds miserable about it and you don’t want him to leave, scared of taking care of Talia alone for the first time in a long time. Your routine with her is usually easy, but right now you don’t think you can even get out of bed.

“Okay,” you sniff, “um, just help me get up and I’ll…I’ve gotta do dinner.”

You reach for Mat’s hand and he laces his fingers with yours, squeezing almost painfully. “Don’t worry about it, Squeaks,” his tone is soft and reassuring. “I brought some help so you can get back to fighting shape.”

Help?

Your heart kicks up, panic making it flutter in your chest. Who the hell could Mat have asked for help and if it’s one of the other wives, you’ll hate being an extra burden on their lives too.

A familiar voice breaks through the panicked noise in your head and you blink, focusing on Liana standing in the doorway. “Hi,” she smiles carefully, looking exhausted and sad. The shock of seeing Liana cracks your heart and you start to cry again, Mat’s hand tight around yours.

“You’re supposed to be in London,” you sob, voice watery and barely intelligible even to your own ears. “What are you doing here?”

Liana crawls into bed with you, discarded crackers crunching under her, and wraps her arms around your shoulders in a tight, smothering hug. You tuck your head under her chin and lean into the hug as much as you can while still holding Mat’s hand.

“Like I was going to let you be alone,” she replies. “As soon as Mat called, I got myself packed up to come be with you and T.”

You cry a little harder into Liana’s shoulder, so beyond grateful that your relationship with Mat also brought you a sister and a best friend in Liana. Some of the weight lifts off your shoulders knowing that she dropped everything to come and stay with you while Mat’s gone.

“It’s too much for you to stay,” you mumble and then you can feel Liana shake her head.

“I mean this with so much love, but shut up. I want to be here, so let me help you, okay?”

“Yeah,” Mat teases in a rough voice, “if you can’t have me around, the second best Barzal is a good option.”

You let out a watery laugh and squeeze his fingers. Liana reaches behind her and grabs a pillow to hit Mat on the side with. She tightens her arms around you briefly and then releases you, leaning back to roll her eyes at Mat, “guess who’s not getting his Heathrow souvenir.”

“You had time to stop for souvenirs?” Mat asks in disbelief, tugging your hand so you’ll lean to the side and you can rest your head against his stomach. His arm loops around your shoulder and his hand rubs up and down your upper arm.

Liana laughs, “no, but if I had, you wouldn’t be getting one.”

You smile faintly, their sibling antics are always entertaining to watch, but then it reminds you that Talia’s not getting the sibling she keeps asking for. Emotion clogs your throat and you turn your neck so you can press your face into Mat’s stomach, hiding from reality. He tangles his fingers in your hair and rubs soothingly at your scalp.

“I gotta pack,” Mat says, forcing you to pull away from him reluctantly. “Talia’s distracted by Bluey right now, but -“

“Auntie LeeLee is on babysitting duty,” Liana cuts him off, squeezing your knee. “Hang out up here, come join us when Mat leaves, whatever you want to do. The only thing you don’t have to do is worry, I’ve got it under control.”

You nod wordlessly, still overwhelmed by Liana’s visit and the hurricane of emotions. She nods at you and rolls off the bed, scooping up the crumpled cracker sleeve as she goes. You can hear Talia’s shrieked giggle harmonizing with Liana’s laughter from the living room.

Mat, despite his announcement that he needs to pack, hasn’t left your side. His hand wraps loosely around the end of your hair, fingers twisting in the ends of the strands, anxious energy radiating off of his body. You twist to look up at him, the motion forcing him to pull at your hair and making your scalp prickle.

“When did you call Liana?” You ask softly, reaching up to play with the hem of his shirt. Your fingertips brush against Mat’s skin and it’s warm against your icy fingers.

“Last night,” he replies with a tired exhale. “After I tucked you in. I couldn’t…I didn’t want to leave you here alone. Booked her on the first flight out this morning.”

“Thank you,” you close your eyes and Mat swipes at the tears that are gathering. “I…Mat…” The words keep getting stuck in your throat, but Mat shakes his head and squats down so he’s eye level with you.

“I know,” he gives you a sad smile. “Worst possible timing for me to have to leave, but I’ll check in every single day.”

You nod and Mat kisses your forehead before helping you into the bathroom. You take care of business again, the bleeding slowing a little, maybe, you think. Honestly, it still feels like too much, like you’re going to bleed forever, but you manage a shaky breath and wander back out into the bedroom.

Mat’s got his suitcase on the floor, his duffle on the bed, and he’s rattling around in the closet. You can hear hangers moving and you sit down gingerly on the edge of the bed, hands moving on their own to start folding some of the stuff he has set out. It’s autopilot by now, years of folding Mat’s clothes for his road trips and chatting with him while he packs - they’re some of your favorite memories with him, the quiet couple time before you’re left alone.

“I’ve got that, babe,” Mat’s got an armful of suits and you shrug.

“I can manage this. I should go downstairs and see what Talia is up to,” you feel like an awful mom for not rushing down to see her immediately. “I’m just afraid I’ll cry again when I see her. I don’t want to scare her.”

Mat arranges his suits in the bag and looks up at you from the floor. “T’s tough. You won’t scare her, she’s seen you cry before.”

It’s not the most reassuring thing, even though you know Mat means for it to be comforting. You twist your fingers in the fabric of the t-shirt you’re folding and sigh. Guilt settles in next to your grief and you know you’re going to go downstairs with Mat when he leaves, even if you just sit on the couch with Talia that’ll be enough.

Talia beelines for you the second she spots you coming down the stairs, shouting, “Mommy! Missed you, Mommy!”

A pair of fairy wings flutter at her back, the glitter both catching the light and falling to the floor in clumps. The poor wings have been so battered from

the constant wearing.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and manage to sit down on a step with Mat’s help so you can hug Talia tightly. “I missed you too, love bug. But you had so much fun with Aunt Holly, right?”

“Mhm,” Talia hums, curled up happily on your lap, wings and all. Her little fingers play with the chain of your necklace and you rest your chin on top of her head. “LeeLee’s here and Daddy leavin’.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Daddy’s leaving for hockey. But he’ll be back before you know it. Aren’t we lucky that LeeLee’s here? Did you give her a big hug and kiss?”

“At plane!” Talia chirps, wiggling a little on your lap. Your stomach twinges and cramps, but you ignore it, too focused on holding Talia close. The tip of a wing clips you on the cheek, but you barely feel it.

Your voice brightens in the excited way you use when you’re explaining something to Talia. “Oh! When you saw LeeLee at the airport you gave her a hug and a kiss? That was so nice of you, TB,” you bury your face in her hair, catching a whiff of the strawberry shampoo Talia’s been obsessed with lately.

She hums another agreement and Mat swoops in to lift her off your lap since you’re not supposed to be carrying anything heavy. “Dinner time,” he announces. You’re eating early so Mat can join you before he heads out.

Liana cooked, steak and mashed potatoes, and you bite your lip against emotion when she winks at you and says quietly, “I know you’re probably not that hungry, but you need the iron.”

You manage to eat a few bites while the rest of your family digs in, Talia sitting on Mat’s lap and chattering away as she eats. Mat laughs over her head while encouraging her chatter with questions.

All too soon, it’s time for Mat to leave and Talia clings to him, skinny little arms wrapped around his neck as she cries, not wanting him to leave. You’re right there with her, ready to hold onto his hand and not let him leave, but you know you have to help him get out the door.

So you try and distract Talia with a bribe of ice cream, which doesn’t work. Somehow, Liana peels her off of Mat and they disappear into the basement, leaving you to fall into Mat’s arms for a tight hug and a kiss.

“Be careful,” you remind him, mumbled into his collarbone.

His hands are warm on your back, splayed out to cover as much space as possible. “I’ll be fine,” he laughs lightly. “Take it easy, let Liana help. I’ll be home before you know it, okay?”

You nod against his neck and reluctantly let him leave, sniffling back tears as you lock the door behind him. Talia shouts for you from the basement and you wipe at your eyes while you walk, ready to have some girl time and try and forget about the loss.

——-

The next few days are a blur, trying to keep Talia’s routine as normal as possible while trying not to have a total mental breakdown is harder than you thought it would be. Talia can sense your sadness, even though you’re trying as hard as possible to keep it from her, but when your body just physically can’t keep up with her and Liana has to take over, Talia knows something is wrong.

On the third day of Liana’s visit, you completely crumble, a sleepless night combined with the last remnants of your bleeding lead to you being unable to get out of bed. Your head is heavy with the remnants of your tears, nose all clogged up, and chest achy from trying to cry quietly. Mat’s been calling every day and you’ve been trying to be strong, to pretend for him that you’re as okay as you can be. But it’s been so hard.

Liana pokes her head into the room and you look up at her helplessly, a fresh wave of tears bubbling up.

“Talia’s distracted with The Little Mermaid,” she says softly. “Do you want company?”

“No,” you shake your head, thinking. “Yes…I don’t know. I just want Mat.”

Your face crumples and you start crying again, barely registering when Liana climbs up into bed with you and hugs you like she did on her first day. You sob against her shoulder, “I lost another baby, Li. I can’t get pregnant and I keep losing babies.”

Liana rubs your back and it’s not the same as Mat, but the comfort is nice. “It sucks so much,” she agrees quietly. “I know how badly you guys want this.”

“I just…” you can’t get the words out, grief choking you. Pressing your fist to your mouth, you swallow harshly. “I want it for Mat and Talia. She needs a sibling.”

Thinking about her now, downstairs watching a movie alone when she could be playing or hell, even fighting, with a brother or a sister, makes you cry even harder. You just don’t want her to be lonely growing up.

“She’ll be okay, either way,” Liana promises. “We’ll all make sure of that. But it’ll happen. I know you guys are going to have another baby, I can feel it.”

Her positivity is slightly reassuring and you sniffle, wiping at your nose with the sleeve of Mat’s sweatshirt. You’ve taken it off to shower, only to put it right back on immediately.

“It was so easy with T,” you laugh bitterly. “We didn’t even try, she wasn’t planned. And now, we planned and planned and I’ve only gotten pregnant twice in eighteen months.”

“What did your doctor say?” Liana asks, leaning back against the headboard and looking at you carefully, as if she’s afraid to touch on a land mine.

Normally you wouldn’t want to talk about it, but Liana’s always been your confidant, from the early days of yours and Mat’s relationship. She’s your sister too, not just Mat’s.

You prop yourself up against the headboard too, stretching your legs out in front of you and pulling Mat’s pillow onto your lap. “Not much,” you shrug, “we’ve done tests, changed our diets. But it’s just one of those things that happens, I guess?”

“That sucks,” Liana says bluntly and it makes a laugh startle out of your mouth. Because yeah, it does suck.

“It took so long for me to be ready after Talia’s birth,” you sigh, playing with the edge of the pillowcase, “and now it just feels cruel that I’m ready, but can’t have a second one.”

Unspoken are your worries that the miscarriages are going to have a negative impact on your relationship with Mat. At a certain point, you’ll have to give up on the dream of a second kid and even though Mat might say all the right things, you know he loves being Talia’s dad and he deserves more kids just as much as Talia deserves a sibling. It’s hard to think about those early days of your pregnancy with Talia when you talked about having enough kids for a starting line-up. That certainly doesn’t seem to be in the cards anymore.

And you don’t want Talia to feel like she wasn’t enough, if you never have a second baby. She’s more than enough - the half of your heart that doesn’t belong to Mat is all Talia’s.

Liana reaches out to hold your hand, “I can feel you worrying and overthinking. The only thing you have to worry about right now is feeling physically better. I think you’re an amazing mom and you’ve been handling this whole thing a lot better than I would.”

“Thanks,” you give her a shaky smile. “I feel like I’m failing in every aspect of my life.”

“The only thing you’ve ever failed at,” Liana snorts, “is that keg stand the summer after you started dating Mat. I’ve never seen anyone crash to the ground so spectacularly.”

A genuine laugh bubbles in your chest and you smack Liana’s leg lightly. “We’re not talking about that ever again, remember?” You shake your head, scoffing a laugh under your breath.

“You got one leg in the air,” Liana reminisces, with a laugh. “Kicking Casey on the way up and then taking Cal out on the way down. How long did the concussion last?”

“Two weeks,” you cough. “And I couldn’t have overhead lights on for another month after that.”

Liana cackles and she’s successfully distracted you from the sadness that was clawing you down.

“Amazing,” she says as her laughter tapers off. “Want to join us downstairs? I need to do some work, but I’m sure TB will be more than thrilled to have you watch a movie with her.”

Cuddling with Talia sounds like the perfect plan to shake off the lingering melancholy. When you get downstairs, Talia’s zoned out in front of the TV and you feel a twinge of guilt over all the screen time she’s had in the past few days, but when she spots you, her entire face lights up and she shrieks, “Mommy! Watch Awiel me!”

“You want me to watch Ariel with you?” You repeat back to her, curling up on the couch and tucking her against your chest. “Should we sing too?”

Talia looks up at you with serious hazel eyes, “no sing, Mommy. Only Awiel!”

You can’t help but laugh at her tone, agreeing that you won’t sing. Watching the movie with her, watching Talia’s eyes widen at the exciting parts, heals you more than you realize.

——

The next day a big box is delivered and Liana practically skips with joy when she brings it inside. You look up from the quesadilla you’re making for Talia - more attempts to be normal - and raise an eyebrow at her. “What’s that?”

“Crystals,” Liana answers simply, stabbing the scissors into the tape and peeling the box open. Talia reaches for the counter, abandoning her coloring book and crayons.

“Crystals?” You repeat, shifting the scissors away from Talia’s reach.

“I see!” Talia yelps and Liana hoists her onto a stool with one arm.

Your sister-in-law starts pulling bubble wrapped packages from the box, nodding, “crystals. I ordered them for you.”

“For me?” You repeat and then laugh at yourself for parroting Liana.

She grins at you, “I was going to say, you’re being really Talia-esque. So I’m glad you noticed.”

Talia picks up the different wrapped crystals and starts poking at the bubble wrap, giggling every time one pops. “Mommy, I open?” She holds it out to you and you flip the burner off on the stove, taking the crystal in one hand.

“What are these for?” You ask Liana, peeling the tape back carefully. To Talia, you continue, “we have to be very careful because these will break or they’ll hurt if you drop it on yourself. Okay? Careful hands.”

“Ca-ful hands,” Talia repeats, holding her hands out so you can place the chunk of what looks like an amethyst in her palms. She goes wide eyes and oohs at it, giggling, “sparky!”

“Sparkly,” you laugh at the mispronunciation. “It’s really pretty, right T?”

Liana’s unwrapping the other crystals - all shapes and sizes and colors - and your inner child lights up at the pretty rocks. You’ve always loved sparkly things and the draw of the crystals is making you smile.

“There’s meanings for all of it,” Liana’s saying. “And honestly, I might’ve gone a little nuts when I was ordering because I don’t remember ordering half of this.”

You laugh at her and pick up a bracelet made of yellow crystals, “what’s this?”

“Um,” Liana consults the packing slip, “oh! That’s the citrine bracelet. Apparently it’s supposed to keep your spirits high and help you stay positive while you’re trying to conceive.”

You swipe your thumb over the yellow crystals and glance at Talia, still preoccupied with the chunk of amethyst. She doesn’t know what conceiving means anyway, even if she had been listening.

“And this,” Liana holds up a flat crystal shaped like an oval, “is moonstone. Also supposed to be good for like balancing hormones and healing. The website said if you put it in your bedroom it brings positivity and balance for fertility issues.”

“You really went online and bought a bunch of fertility crystals for me?” You try to laugh, to make it a little bit of a joke, but again, Liana’s thoughtfulness is making you emotional and your voice gets all high and nasal.

Liana beams at you. “Not just fertility, balance and manifestation and all that other stuff too. Like the clear quartz is supposed to neutralize negative energy and ground your soul. The amethyst is helpful for like general overwhelm and stress.”

Talia swaps out the amethyst for a smooth, heart shaped chunk of rose quartz. She keeps oohing and ahhing over the crystals, petting them with delicate fingers. “Mommy, pink rock,” she holds it up to your face and you kiss the back of her hand, making her giggle.

“You’re crazy, but I kind of love this?” You run your fingers over all the crystals littering the countertop. You’d be lying if you said you were a woo-woo type of girl, but something about the shine on the crystals is loosening the knot in your chest. Probably a placebo, but you slip the citrine bracelet on your wrist anyway.

——-

Mat FaceTimes daily and Talia loves showing him the crystals, which she’s now obsessed with and counts out every morning.

He looks exhausted on the calls, but every time you ask him if he’s okay, he just shrugs and gives you a lopsided smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Long trip, Squeaks, and I miss you guys,” he replies.

“Just a few more days,” you sigh. You’ve been up and down still, but Liana and Talia both came with you to your doctor’s appointment earlier and even though it was another ‘these things just happen sometimes’ visit, you’ve been given a clean bill of health and clearance to start trying again as soon as you feel up to it.

“Everything okay?” Mat asks now, knowing you had your appointment. He’d texted but you just sent him a thumbs up emoji, exhausted after the appointment.

You nod. “Bleeding stopped and um, I’m technically medically cleared, I guess. I don’t know, Mat. I feel okay, like, physically,” you trail off.

Other than the appointment, you haven’t been out of the house and you haven’t gotten dressed in anything other than Mat’s sweatshirt and Mat’s sweats and Mat’s stretched out tube socks. You know you look halfway put together because Liana insisted on giving your hair a once over with the Dyson before your appointment, but no concealer in the would could cover the dark circles under your eyes.

“I fucking hate that I had to leave,” Mat grumbles, shoving a hand roughly through his hair.

“Liana’s been amazing,” you say. “I really don’t know what I would’ve done without her. We need to get her something amazing for Christmas.”

Mat laughs, like you hoped he would, and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, she does probably deserve it.” After a beat of comfortable silence, he frowns and huffs, “I really wish I could hug you right now.”

It looks like so much is weighing on his shoulders and you make a note to check on what’s been happening in the games. You haven’t watched a single one while Mat’s been gone, too exhausted to keep up. But you know the season’s been difficult so far, injuries and illness and historically bad special teams.

“Should’ve sent you off with one of my sweatshirts to cuddle with,” you joke.

“Not a bad idea,” Mat laughs. There’s a knock at the hotel room door behind him and he sighs. “I think we’re going out for dinner. I’ll call you when I get back in?”

You nod. “Love you, Mat,” your nose burns with the sting of imminent tears, frustrating you since today was a good day.

“Love you, Squeaks,” he replies with a smile. “Give T a big kiss from me and throw Liana an arm punch.”

“I’m not doing that,” you reply dryly.

Mat laughs loudly, “figured you wouldn’t, but it was worth a try, huh?”

He tells you he loves you again and ends the call, leaving you staring at his contact information, the ghost of a smile on your face.

You don’t have time to linger because Talia comes sprinting into the room a moment later, a piece of construction paper clutched in one tiny hand and plush Sparky in the other. She crashes right into the mattress, shouting for “help, Mommy! Help!” until you lift her carefully under the armpits.

“I thought you were coloring with LeeLee?” You nuzzle your nose into the crown of Talia’s head, soft dark curls tickling at your cheeks. Her hair is a mess, sticking out in all directions, and it always makes her look like a little mad scientist.

“I drawed picture, Mommy,” Talia chirps, waving the constriction paper in the air. “For Mommy.”

“You drew me a picture?” You smile against her hair. “That’s very sweet of you, Talia. Can you show me?”

She drops the picture onto your bed, her colorful scribbles covering the entire piece of paper. You’re definitely going to need Talia to decipher the picture because you honestly can’t tell which way is up. Although, if you squint, they do look like stick figures, a little bit.

“This is a beautiful picture, T,” you coo, stroking her hair off her forehead. “Why don’t you tell me about it.”

“This Daddy,” she points to a scribbled stick figure with a black swirl on top - Mat and his hair. You giggle at the depiction of your husband.

“And me, this Talia,” she points to the middle doodle - pink with a black swirl. “Sparky,” a blue line with an orange circle on top.

“Mommy,” she points to the last figure. It makes you pause, because your figure is in blacks and greys, a red smudge over the circle that’s probably supposed to be your head. “Mommy sad.”

Oh.

The burning in your nose is back and the guilt settles deep in your chest.

Maybe you haven’t been as good at hiding your feelings from Talia as you thought.

“Mommy has been sad,” you admit softly, shifting Talia in your lap so you can see her face. She’s wearing a little frown, too serious for her sweet face, and it cracks your heart.

Talia pats your cheek and tucks Sparky up under her chin. “No more sad, Mommy?”

“Mommy’s going to try very hard not to be sad,” you promise, wiping quickly at the tears that are gathering. “It’s okay to be sad sometimes and it’s so nice when you try to make someone not sad. You and Daddy make me not sad, love bug.”

“I draw happy Mommy,” Talia chirps, grabbing up her picture and trying to wiggle out of your grip. You laugh wetly and help her get to her feet on the floor. She runs off shouting for Liana and her crayons.

That kid.

You’re so beyond lucky to have her.

You need to be better for her, so you get out of bed and head downstairs, finding Talia and Liana at the dining room table. Liana’s working on her laptop and Talia’s working hard on a picture.

“What do you guys say we go out after dinner?” You ask cautiously.

Liana raises an eyebrow at you. “You feel up to that?” She asks and grins when you nod in confirmation.

“Not one hundred percent,” you admit shakily. “But yeah, I think I need to get out of the house.”

“Ice skate?” Talia pipes up, looking hopeful. She’s certainly Mat’s daughter, with her love of skating.

You laugh and shake your head. “Not today, baby. Maybe when Daddy gets home,” you wrinkle your nose at her playfully. Your body is definitely not ready to strap skates on. You’re barely ready to be awake most of the day, lingering soreness and the exhaustion from your emotional overload combining to get you crawling into bed at the same time as Talia every night.

“How about a little stroll through the Americana?” Liana suggests and Talia perks up again, your bougie toddler with her expensive tastes loves walking around the high end mall and looking at the flowers and statues. It’s not that cold out either and fresh air will definitely do you good. Liana’s taken Talia out to the park and grocery store, but you’ve been inside.

After dinner, you change into semi-respectable clothes and head out for the short drive. Talia’s thrilled, kicking her legs in her car seat and chattering away. Once you let her out of the car, she’s off, immediately squatting down to touch the petals of a flower. You and Liana follow her from flower to statue and back, just enjoying her excitement.

Talia wears herself out and demands to sleep in your bed, so you tuck her in on Mat’s side of the bed and rejoin Liana downstairs.

“I know I’ve said it before,” you say, accepting a bowl of popcorn from her, “but seriously, thank you for coming. I really couldn’t have made it through the week without you.”

“What’s family for?” Liana shrugs and curls up next to you on the couch. She grins. “Now, can I fill you in on the guy I’ve been seeing? He’s Scottish!”

You widen your eyes at her, grinning wickedly back, “hello accent! Yes, please, tell me everything.”

And she does, spilling all the details of the new-ish relationship, making you laugh until you cry. You don’t think about the miscarriage for the few hours Liana is gossiping with you and it’s nice to feel normal for the first time in a week.

——-

The second week of Mat’s road trip is easier. You��re more present, cooking dinner every other night and settling back into your routine with Talia. You take her to the park while Liana logs a couple of hours, knowing that she needs a break too.

You’ve picked up the battered Moleskine journal from your night table drawer and have been writing in it, documenting all of your thoughts and feelings like you’d been instructed to by your therapist after Talia was born. It helped back then and it’s helping now, seeing your deepest and darkest insecurity and guilts scribbled on the lines in bright pink ink - another tip from the therapist to make the thoughts seem less scary.

And before you know it, it’s been two weeks and Mat is coming home tonight.

Talia is off the walls excited, simultaneously alternating between holding your legs and Liana’s legs and then getting cranky the next because it’s taking too long for Mat to get home.

“Now? Daddy home now?” She wails, kicking her feet against the couch cushions.

“Soon, baby, he’ll be home so soon,” you smooth your hand over her hair, trying to calm her down. “Should we draw him a picture?”

“Noooo,” she shrieks and you grit your teeth together, wondering just when her switch flipped. “No picture!”

“How about you do Mommy’s makeup?” You cajole her in a singsong.

Talia perks up, her crocodile tears fading away. She looks like she’s plotting now and you worry slightly. “Mommy and LeeLee?” She asks, in a tone that’s more akin to a negotiation.

“If LeeLee says yes,” you watch her slide off the couch and run off to find Liana. “But if she’s busy it’s just Mommy!” Talia completely ignores your shout and less than ten minutes later, both you and Liana are sitting on the floor with your backs against the couch, Talia doing her best to make you look insane.

The cheap, drugstore makeup you bought just for this purpose is strewn on the floor between you and Liana and you cringe when Talia takes a lipstick and swipes it over your chin, missing your lips entirely.

Liana’s got purple eyeshadow smeared over her eyes like a superhero mask and you can’t look at her or you’ll start to laugh. And if you laugh, Talia will get agitated with you.

“Mommy so pretty,” Talia beams, patting glittery highlighter onto your forehead. She gives Liana eyeliner crow’s feet and repeats the sentiment, “LeeLee so pretty.”

After a while, she gets bored and gives up, wandering off and leaving you to clean up the makeup.

“We look insane,” Liana cracks up, looking at her reflection in the hall mirror. She rubs at a black eyeliner smudge, but it doesn’t move. “Jesus.”

“My little make-up artist,” you reply dryly, putting the lid back on a Colourpop blush and tossing it in the bag.

You know better than to wash off Talia’s work before she gives you permission, so you go about your day, forgetting what you look like. Talia goes down for her nap and Liana gets some work done while you tidy up and get dinner prepped. With Talia asleep, you both scrub at your faces, leaving them

pink and chapped, but free of her makeup scribbles. Mat’s expected right around dinner time and you’re starting to get antsy too, impatient for him to get home already.

When he texts that they’ve landed at the airport, your face splits into a huge grin and you bounce a little on the balls of your feet, knowing he’ll be home within the hour.

Liana laughs at you, “it’s low key really cute how excited you get to see Mat. Like, he’s a pain in the ass, but you guys are kind of goals.”

“Everything is just better when he’s around,” you shrug, knowing you sound cheesy. But it’s true. Mat’s presence always makes you feel good. Especially now, you just can’t wait for him to get home.

Talia’s eating dinner when the front door opens and you all freeze. Her eyes go wide and she nearly throws herself off the chair, screeching, “DADDEEEEEE!” as she bolts for the door as fast as her little legs will take her.

You jump up to follow her, getting to the hall just in time to see her launch herself at Mat. He catches her easily, a huge grin on his face as he hugs her tightly. Talia’s arms wind around his neck and it looks like you’re going to have a hell of a time detaching her later. Your nose burns and tears prickle at your eyes again. It feels like all you’ve done for two weeks is cry or resist crying.

“Missed you, TB,” Mat mumbles against her hair, one arm supporting her under the butt and the other stroking her hair. He looks up and sees you, his face softening even more, a little bit of sadness creeping in at the edges of his smile.

“Hi,” you’re at his side in a second, your voice wavering along with your emotional strength. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Mat opens his arm for you to tuck yourself under. You wrap your arms around his waist and bury your face in his chest. He smells like stale airplane air and soap and you’ve never been so happy to smell that combo again. “Beyond fucking happy to be home.”

Mat kisses the top of your head and you sniffle against his shirt, fingers wrinkling the fabric above his belt. Talia wriggles in his arms, but doesn’t show any sign of wanting to be let down, content to sit in Mat’s arms and play with the collar of his shirt. It’s the calmest she’s been all day and you know it’s because Mat’s finally home.

The missing piece of your puzzle and your rock, despite what he thinks sometimes.

“As much as I love this,” Mat laughs, “and want to continue it later, I’m starving and whatever you cooked smells insanely good.”

“We were just feeding T,” you laugh and pull back a little so you can head into the kitchen, “Liana and I were waiting for you.”

“Welcome back,” Liana greets Mat with a salute, “passing back responsibility to you.” She winks at you so you know she’s joking.

Mat shakes his head and ruffles Liana’s hair a bit. “Thanks for helping, Li,” he says sincerely. You can see some of the tension in his shoulders loosen and now that you’re in the bright light of the kitchen instead of the dim hallway, you spot the yellowing edges of a bruise at his jaw and around his eye.

Your stomach lurches, never used to seeing Mat get hurt.

“What happened?” Your question sounds more like a demand and Mat winces.

He avoids your eyes and replies, “got a little distracted during a couple of the games. It looks worse than it feels, promise.”

Distracted, meaning he was thinking about you and not the game. Your stomach twists with something like guilt and Mat must see the change in your expression, because he shifts Talia slightly and reaches for your hand to squeeze it. “Hey, come on. It’s my fault, for not watching the other guys, not yours. Occupational hazard,” he jokes.

You frown until Mat leans in and plants a loud, smacking kiss on your cheek. It makes Talia giggle and mimic him, which is what finally gets you to laugh too.

Liana manages to peel Talia away from Mat long enough for him to shower and change and then your toddler is back in his lap while he eats over her head. She picks at pieces of lettuce from Mat’s salad, curled up against his chest like when she was a newborn. Every time Mat comes home from an away game or road trip, this is Talia’s routine, to cling to Mat like he was away at war. Later, he’ll have to read her half a dozen books before bed and pat her back until she falls asleep and he’ll do it with a smile on his face. Mat needs the clingy time with Talia as much as she does.

Mat fills you in on the trip, his foot hooked around your ankle under the table.

Liana, citing the ‘absolutely disgustingly gooey looks’ you and Mat keep shooting each other, heads off to the gym after dinner.

Talia only has an hour or so before the bedtime routine starts, but she’s still refusing to let go of Mat’s neck, so you turn on Mary Poppins for a soothing effect and join her and Mat on the couch for a cuddle.

“Mommy hand,” she sticks her little hand out for you to hold and you’re all too happy to comply.

With you stroking the back of her hand and Mat patting at her butt like when she was a newborn, Talia barely makes it through half an hour before she’s passed out on Mat’s chest.

“I hate to move her,” he says quietly, staring down at her sleep-slackened face. He keeps patting her butt reflexively, muscle memory from the early days when she would wake up the second he stopped.

You study their matching faces and your heart clenches. “Give it another few minutes to make sure she’s totally out,” you reply, still stroking her hand too.

She’s only three, but she looks so much like a baby when she sleeps. Her cheek is smushed against Mat’s chest, mouth slightly open, dark eyelashes fanned over her cheek. A stray curl drapes over her forehead and you resist the urge to brush it away.

“How was everything?” Mat looks at you with tired eyes.

“It got better,” you say honestly. “Physically, I feel okay. Not normal, but you know…”

Mat’s free hand finds its way to your face, cupping your cheek. “I’m sorry I had to leave,” he says and you can see how much it weighed on him, being gone.

“You couldn’t help it, but flying Liana in,” you shake your head, “that was the best thing. The first week, honestly, she did everything. She’s the best. It took me a minute, but we still have T and I wasn’t being the best mom to her.”

You both look at Talia, still passed out on Mat’s chest, a little wet patch of drool forming on his shirt.

“You’re always the best mom,” Mat defends you firmly and you shake your head, not looking for reassurance.

“No, I really wasn’t. The first week, Mat, I’m not saying this to make you feel bad either, but I literally could not get out of bed,” you sigh, your free hand tangling in the hem of your shirt. “I cried more than I didn’t, it was just…overwhelming. This whole thing has been overwhelming in the worst way.”

Mat’s fingers tighten against your scalp and he looks like he wants to say something, but doesn’t.

You inhale a shaky breath, nervous to verbalize something you’ve been thinking about for a few days. “Can we…” you pause and twist your lips, “maybe…stop trying for a bit? I think I need to just…I can’t go through this again so soon. The negative tests, the waiting, losing them. I need a break.”

Mat’s face is frozen, his eyes a little wide, and it takes him a minute to reply. A minute where your heart is in your stomach, nausea churning.

“I…okay, yeah. Whatever you need, baby,” Mat says finally, voice rough. He shifts Talia on his chest and turns to face you. “I’ll go get the Costco box of condoms, I’ll pull out. You give me the okay for when you want to start trying again, we’ll follow your lead here.”

Your shoulders loosen and you laugh faintly at Mat’s reaction, reassured that he’s not annoyed or upset. Not that you thought he would be, but it was hard enough to admit to yourself that you wanted to put a pause on trying for a baby. But you know you need to refocus yourself before you go through the cycle again.

“I love you,” you sigh, turning your head and kissing Mat’s wrist.

“Love you,” he smiles and pauses. “Can I ask you a question?”

You cock your head and nod, curious.

“What’s with the pile of rocks on your dresser?”

[aryadelvich]

hii... Well, I'm on vacation at the beach and I'm really terrified of the sea, I'm anxious that a wave will drag me away or that I'll be too stupid to swim and I want to know if you can please write something where Luigi comforts me and helps me overcome my fear during the vacation...

Hiii! Sorry for the late reply. I’m guessing you’re not on vacation anymore, but you can keep this for the next time you go to the beach. Hope it helps! 💕💕

The view was magical. You were sitting on the beautiful white sand, and to your left stood the famous Mauna Kea mountain. Luigi and you had gone on a trip to Hawaii, and every moment together felt like a dream.

Before leaving, a slight anxiety had lingered in your mind. You and Lu had only been together for a few months, and you wondered if spending 24 hours a day together would become tiresome, if being so close all the time would create tension. Of course, there were small arguments from time to time, but nothing serious. Luigi was a sweetheart, always attentive.

He was the one who planned the outings, found the best restaurants, and organized the itineraries. He knew how to solve any problem that arose and always made sure you had eaten and drunk enough. Every morning, before you were even fully awake, he would place a steaming cup of coffee by your bedside along with a light breakfast, knowing that you struggled to eat too early.

When you walked along the beach, he made sure the sun wasn’t too harsh on your skin, carefully applying sunscreen to you every two hours with gentle, precise movements. If he noticed you squinting under the bright light, he would bring you a hat without saying a word.

And then, there were those little gestures that made all the difference. Like this morning when he had slipped out quietly to bring back your favorite snack, spam musubi, and tucked it into your bag without a word. It wasn’t until midday, when your stomach started to growl, that you found it. He watched you with an amused smile as you devoured it, entertained by your enthusiasm.

He reassured you, made you laugh, and shared countless anecdotes every time you visited a place or monument. But more than anything, he helped you face your fears.

Unfortunately, you were terrified of the ocean. The thought of the waves pulling you away, the current being too strong, not having enough energy to swim, or having a panic attack in the middle of the water filled you with anxiety. At first, you hadn’t admitted this fear to him, but over time, Luigi had noticed.

"You’re not coming to swim?" he asked, curious.

"No, I’m just going to stay under the umbrella and read a book."

Luigi narrowed his eyes slightly, unconvinced.

"But I want to swim with you. What if we pretended to be mermaids? Or even better, what if we went diving off that little hill over there?"

He pointed to a small rocky formation where vacationers were taking turns jumping into the crystal-clear water.

"Sorry, Lu, I…"

You trailed off, unable to finish your sentence. It was hard to admit.

"Is something wrong? Since the beginning of the trip, you’ve only dipped your feet in the water and nothing more," he asked, this time more concerned.

You bit your lip before taking a deep breath.

"Promise me you won’t make fun of me?"

Luigi frowned, as if the very idea of mocking you was absurd. But quickly, his expression softened, becoming reassuring.

"Never. Tell me, I’m listening."

"I’m afraid of the sea…"

He immediately placed a comforting hand on your thigh, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles on your skin.

"Oh, I see… Is there a particular reason, or is it just an instinctive fear?"

"Just like that… I swear I’d love to have fun in the water with you, but I just can’t. I’m too scared. I’m afraid the waves will pull me away, that I’ll be too anxious to swim, and as soon as I can’t feel the ground under my feet, I panic."

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you closer to him. He pressed a kiss to your temple before whispering in a tender voice:

"You don’t have to justify yourself."

He held you a little tighter, as if to shield you from the fear that haunted you. With Luigi, you knew you never had to force yourself, that he would never judge you. He wouldn’t rush you; he would take his time, with you, at your own pace.

Luigi kept holding you, letting the silence settle for a few moments. He wasn’t trying to minimize your fear or force you. He was thinking, searching for the best way to help you without pushing you too hard.

Then, gently, he asked:

"What if we went in together, just up to our knees? No further. We’ll take it slow."

You hesitated. The very idea of going deeper into the water made you anxious, but Luigi was there. There had never been anyone you trusted more.

"You promise we’ll go slowly?"

"Promise. I’ll stay by your side the whole time. And if you want to stop, we’ll stop."

You nodded timidly, and he stood up before extending his hand to you. You took it, and together, you walked toward the shoreline.

The first waves lapped at your feet, and your heart immediately started racing. Luigi felt it and squeezed your hand a little tighter.

"Look at me, not the water. Breathe slowly… inhale… exhale… There, just like that."

You followed his rhythm, focusing on his eyes rather than the waves. You moved forward slowly, and soon, the water reached your knees.

"You’re incredible," Luigi murmured with a smile. "Look at everything you’re already doing."

You looked down and realized that despite the fear twisting your stomach, you were really there, in the water, much further than you had ever imagined possible.

"I… I’m doing it," you whispered, almost in disbelief.

Luigi nodded. "Yes. And what if we went just a tiny bit further? Just so the water reaches our waists. I’ll hold you."

Slowly, you moved forward. Whenever your anxiety spiked, Luigi stopped and reassured you. He told you ridiculous anecdotes to distract you, making you laugh. And as time passed, the fear seemed to fade.

"Now, hold onto me," he said, turning to face you. "I’m going to show you something."

He slid his hands under your arms and encouraged you to float. You resisted at first, but he supported you, never letting go.

"Trust the water, let it carry you… You don’t have to do anything, just breathe. I’m here."

Then, slowly, you let go of the tension, and your body floated on the surface. The warm water surrounded you, the sky stretched above you, and for the first time… you didn’t feel fear, just an immense sense of freedom.

As you finally floated, rocked by the water, a sudden euphoria overtook you. You had done it. After years of fear, you were there, in the ocean, and you no longer felt like you were in danger.

You turned your head toward Luigi, who was watching you with a radiant smile.

"You did it," he murmured, his eyes sparkling with pride.

A wave of emotion washed over you, and without thinking, you straightened up suddenly and threw yourself into his arms. But in your enthusiasm, your weight pushed against him, causing him to slip slightly underwater.

"Mmmph!"

Luigi briefly sank before resurfacing, spitting out a bit of water, his soaked hair sticking to his forehead.

"Oh my god, Lu! I’m so sorry!" you exclaimed, panicked.

He shook his head, laughing, wiping water from his face. "No, no, it’s fine! You’re just stronger than you look!" he teased, his hands still on your waist, keeping you steady.

You pouted guiltily. "I just wanted to thank you… not drown you."

He chuckled softly and pressed a hand against your cheek. "If that’s how you thank me, I’m willing to sink over and over again."

You blushed slightly before kissing him again, more gently this time. He kissed you back tenderly, his arms wrapping around you without hesitation.

"Alright, now that you can float, are you ready for our next challenge?" he asked with a mischievous smile.

You raised an eyebrow. "What challenge?"

"Swimming to that hill and jumping with me."

You playfully smacked his shoulder. "Don’t push your luck, Mangione."

"Okay, okay. But admit it, you’re a little tempted…"

You rolled your eyes with a smile. Maybe you were.

In the evening, after a long day of excursions, he pulled you close into the hammock of your bungalow, gently rocking you with the tip of his foot. His hand traced soothing circles on your back as he whispered sweet words into your ear. He knew exactly how to calm you, how to reassure you, how to make this trip not just an escape, but a precious memory to cherish forever.

[celuere]

Can I pretty please, and oh so kindly, and only if it's okay, request for soft smut scene with Arlecchino? I love your headcanons about her when her wife is pregnant and even after giving birth... So I can't help but fantasize about Arlecchino making sweet love to her wife a couple of weeks after she recovers from childbirth? Thank you so much, and I hope you keep creating and sharing your beautiful brainchildren. 🥹🥰

birds of a feather.

pairing: arlecchino x fem!reader

cw: fingering, arles fat dick, soft sex omg, pathetic lesbian arlecchino who cheered, so much fluff it‘ll make you throw up, body worship, breeding because one child with her ain‘t enough, uhmmm slight lactation kink- WHO SAID THAT.

anon you GOT me with that ask. like straight up grabbing me by the throat with it. bless you. 

word count: 2.2k

you breathed out a sigh laced with exhaustion as you pulled your dirty shirt over your head. turns out having a baby throw up over you right after getting off the breast isn‘t the most pleasant experience.

your eyes lingered on your body a bit too long. the stretch marks on your tummy along with the loose skin from your baby belly were enough evidence of the childbirth you put yourself through a little over six months. luckily it wasn‘t as bad as some stories made it out to be, but those 36 hours of labor were… something. ten fingers weren‘t enough to count how often you told your husband to shut up even tho she tried her best to relieve you. wiping your forehead with a cool cloth, helping you walk the stairs of your manor up and down which was… embarrassing with an entire team of midwives and doctors watching your every step. but overall you did amazing.

parenthood was… scary might be the wrong term but it was definitely new territory for the both of you. even arlecchino. she could handle toddlers, teenagers and young adults, that‘s what she has been doing for the last ten years after all, but a newborn? which she gets to call her own? the baby you nurtured in your belly for nine months? cut her some slack, she is doing the best she can. you aren‘t even allowed to get up during the night if she isn‘t hungry. it is always your husband changing her diapers and soothing her back to slumber so incredibly fast that you start wondering if she isn‘t feeding the baby benadryl.

you looked up to the door being opened by none other than arlecchino, bloody eyes immediately landing on your exposed upper body before they drove up to your face. she visibly swallowed.

„she… just fell back asleep.“, her mouth was slightly left open as she closed the door behind her. she couldn‘t quite tear her gaze off of you and that meant something. she wasn‘t being awkward when you breastfed, nor did she even mention the topic of intimacy for the last months but now… she did look quite caught off guard.

„you are staring, honey…“

the harbinger slightly shook her head, averting her eyes as she walked over to your shared bed.

„my apologies. i didn’t intend to cause any unease for you. but…“, with her back turned to you, you failed to see how she had to bite her lower lip. and how she was practically clawing into her pants.

„but you look ravishing.“

you stayed silent as you watched your husband get back into bed. heart pounding against your ribcage, threatening to set out a beat or two. it has been a while since those x‘s have been filled with anything else other than love and affection. the moment was short lived but you did catch that glimmer of lust flying over her face. 

„ravishing you say…?“, you let your sleepwear drop to the floor as you made your way over to her and god the way her eyes where quite literally fucking you already.

„what do you think you‘re doing?“, she didn’t quite know where to look. your swollen breasts? your tummy and the marks stretching over the skin? or your beautiful face? it‘s not often that the knave is having a hard time with making decisions.

„you… looked like you wanted to have a closer look…“

„ma cherié, please cover yourself up- i don’t want you to walk around with your bare chest for my sake.“, grabbing the cardigan that was resting on your side of the bed before she handed it over to you, trying to ignore just how hard she already was from merely looking at you.

„why, don’t you like what you are seeing…? i know i gained some weight during pregnancy a-and my stomach is also hanging a bit loose…“, you did feel your heart sink at the thought of being unattractive to her. especially after what you put your body through.

arlecchino only stared at you in disbelief of what you just said. as if you just slapped her right across the face. the disbelief in her eyes seemingly growing with each moment that passed.

„i strongly detest such accusations. infact, i have never found you more beautiful…“, her hand gently clasped your arm in her grip as she tugged you onto her lap, „yet i don‘t want you to feel obligated to show yourself off to me. you… gave birth. you bore my child. i want things to move at your pace and if i ever gave you a different impression then i deeply apologize for that. it wasn‘t my inten-“, she halted mid-sentence when you moved her hand over to your tits until she cupping you in her palm.

„we are very much moving at my pace, my dear husband… do you have any idea how difficult it is to watch you do literally anything lately…?“, you noticed her lips part as her hand gave you a soft squeeze, dragging a moan right out of you.

„is that so? elaborate…“, she gave your nipple a tender pinch, eyes never leaving your own.

„i-it‘s just the way you handle her- or how you‘ve been in home office for the last months now… a-always being there when i need you… s-simple things l-like that… hah…“, your face flushed more with a deep red after each syllable rolling over your lips. her intense gaze on you. the hand massaging your tit. you almost didn‘t notice in the midst of the heat how you began to lose some milk. her attention was immediately fixed on the creamy fluid running over her hand.

„look at you…“, you audibly gasped as you felt her mouth close around your nipple. not sucking. merely letting this fluid gold run right over tongue. she has been curious for quite some time about the taste but archons forbid the knave would ask her nursing wife to have a taste of her breastmilk. she needs to maintain at least some of her dignity.

pregnancy has made them so incredibly sensitive to the touch. seeing your husband knead and clinging to them is just… you‘ll have to change panties again. or maybe you don‘t. because a certain hand was already working on shoving them aside, coating her fingers immediately in your slick as she let go of your boob.

„you taste just as sweet as i expected… and as you look.“, something in her eyes turned so incredibly weak at the sight of your flushed face. while something else was straining against the prison of her boxers. 

„y-you are overdoing it, r-really- ah-!“, your hand found her neck as she sunk two clipped fingers into your warmth. and god it felt like coming back home to a home cooked meal after a long business trip. her movements were hesitant at first as she studied your face for any signs of pain or being uncomfortable.

„mhm… my sweet angel… already moving your hips against me?“, her smile was lethal when she managed to hit your weakest spot with just a simple curl of her fingers. on the first try.

the sudden hit caused your back to arch and your body to shiver. it almost felt like she was not a single day out of practice where it not for the hesitant movements.

she was testing how deep the waters are before she steps into them.

„h-how- how do you still know how to h-hit it-?“, a rhetorical question.

„my love.“, her digits now softly pressing and massaging this important spot inside of you as you were gripping onto her fingers for dear life, „i could never forget something as important as my wife‘s pleasure.“

you forgot how truly skilled she actually was with those fingers. how good she knew your body from the outside and inside. each curl felt calculated as if she wanted to push you near the cliff of your self restraint but not off of it. and it worked so well. 

arlecchino on the other side was absolutely besotted if not getting completely drunk off the sight of her wife riding her fingers as if it‘s day one. crimson gaze roaming over your body, how your tits bounced with each movement in front of her face and those stretchmarks… these things were awakening something in her that harbinger didn‘t even know existed. and she loved you for it. she loved how you led her to discovering new sides of herself everyday. a baby? something she could only ever imagine with you and nobody else.

„peru- p-peruere please-“

„please what, amour? you have such a pretty mouth… tell me exactly what you want me to do…“, her voice was reduced to nothing but a soft whisper. no sign of the usual deep, monotone sound.

„c-can- gulp can i have you inside- n-not your fingers- i-i mean your-“, she didn‘t let you finish that sentence as you felt her hand securing the back of your head as she carefully laid you back down on the mattress, fingers smoothly retreating from your aching pussy.

„i‘ll give you anything you want, dove. i‘d even pluck the moon out of the firmament if you asked me to.“, a much bigger hand engulfed your before lifting it up to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss right on top of your wedding ring. archons above. you never felt more fertile to be honest.

and if eyes could fuck, you‘d be on your 4th orgasm already.

„wh-what… what are you looking at…?“, you suppressed the urge to hide your body by crossing your arms in front of your chest.

„i… am currently looking at my stunning wife. and how beautiful she still looks after bringing a baby into the world.“, your lungs grew suddenly too big for your ribcage as she lowered her head towards your abdomen before you felt her lips hitting one of the various marks stretching over the skin.

„mother of my child… music to my ears.“, and it didn‘t stop at peppering gentle kisses onto you. her hands had to give your hips a nice massage as she slowly worked her up to breasts, cupping the soft mass in her cursed existence before you found the hardened bud back between her lips.

you didn‘t know how many minutes she spent with just kissing and licking every single inch of your body. whispering the occasional „i love you.“ in between those sensual moments while your heart hurt so bad. not in a bad way of course. her words just seemed too big for you to comprehend, it felt like it was ripping you apart from the inside. sex never felt dirty with her. no matter how rough or soft she was with you. it was always intimate, sensitive, special. like two puzzle pieces finally fitting each other.

she almost came right on the spot when she entered you. actually had to take a few moments to regulate her breathing in order to not come inside of you after ten seconds. since when did she have so little control over herself?

on the other side of the coin you weren‘t doing any better. hips urging her to go deeper as you gripped the sheets with all your might in an attempt to somehow anchor yourself. 

„may i-“

„god please- yes-“

you often pictured this particular moment. the first bit intimacy after months of navigating parenthood. you imagined her to be starved. rough. hungry. yet she was none of it. her pace was slow, almost scared. as if she was handling a porcelain figure. her grip on you was tender. no nails digging into you since she is keeping them neatly filed down in order to not harm the baby. and she was moaning. something she barely did. your husband was vocal. vocal and vulnerable and you couldn‘t get enough of it. 

she looked so weak. so incredibly weak with how she had to keep the drool running out of her mouth by licking her lips every now and then, red eyes darting around, unsure where to look. your flushed face? your chest? your abdomen? or her dick pumping in and out of you and the creamy ring that already formed around her base?

if her place was inside her wife‘s pussy then so be it.

you choose to not comment on her state. she‘d deny it anyway.

what really did the trick for her was when you grabbed after her hand, fingers intertwining with each other as if not even time and space could separate you.

„tu seras ma fin…“

„you will be the end of me…“

you shared everything that night. memories. weaknesses and even orgasms.

when she painted thick ropes of her cum inside of you she couldn‘t fight the urge to press you all the way down on her. to make sure she was savoring every single bit of herself inside of you.

and right now you moaned her name like a prayer to the gods. not to be saved but to be blessed with maybe another addition to the family. securing the bloodlines or something like that.

your joined panting filled the room and the smell of raw sex probably hung in the air too.

„thank you.“

„f-for what…?“

it was then when you heard a cry coming from across the hallway. an all too familiar cry. a reminder of your love for each other.

„for this.“

[agnieszkaloving]

I want to request nabu malikata/nilou! Fem reader

One-shot

Romantic

Character : phainon, mydei and anaxa

Fem reader who became a dancer in their planet's event, when the male character see reader's dance they became captivated by fem reader's beauty and her dance.

They start to talk with fem reader and then they fall in love with her, they start to court her but she is oblivious.

The Dance of Grace

The air was thick with the scent of incense and the rhythmic echoes of ceremonial drums. Lanterns flickered in hues of deep gold and azure, casting intricate patterns across the marble steps of the temple. The annual event was in full swing, a festival that honored the convergence of the stars, a spectacle revered across the celestial expanse.

And at the center of it all was her.

Clad in flowing silk that shimmered like liquid stardust, she moved with a precision that defied mortal limits. Her dance was a story, one woven with fluid grace,

Phainon

Phainon had witnessed many wonders across the reaches of existence. He had seen the breaking of planets, the birth of new stars, and the unraveling of time itself. Yet, as he watched her dance, a rare sensation settled in his chest, curiosity laced with something close to longing.

any calculation he had ever attempted to solve. Her every movement was deliberate yet unrestrained, her expression both serene and harmony.

"An anomaly," he muttered to himself, but the thought rang hollow. Because anomalies were meant to be solved, and she was a paradox he never wished to unravel.

___

Mydei

He is one of among the towering figures of the assembly, Mydei stood with arms crossed, his usual composed demeanor slipping ever so slightly. He had no patience for poetry or unnecessary sentiment, his world was built on structure, on unshaken resolve. And yet, something about her presence sent a ripple through his discipline.

Perhaps it was the way she embodied control within chaos of the people or how her bare feet brushed against the marble with unearthly precision.

When the final twirl of her performance ended with a graceful bow, he exhaled, realizing only then that he had been holding his breath.

___

Anaxa

Unlike the others, Anaxa made no attempt to rationalize what he felt. He had no need for logic when instinct spoke louder than reason. He had seen prophets, saints, and gods, but none had ever commanded his attention the way she did.

While the festival cheered in approval, his sharp eyes never left her. She was like a flame dancing in the void, unshaken by the weight of a thousand watching souls. He admired that.

And as she stepped off the stage, disappearing into the grand halls of the temple, Anaxa was the first to move.

___

The Courtship of the Three

The festival had ended, but the echoes of the music still lingered in the marble halls of the temple. The scent of burning incense mixed with the cool night air, and the once cheering crowd had dissipated into scattered groups of murmuring scholars, merchants, and nobles.

She stepped away from the grand hall, seeking solitude. The quiet of the temple gardens was a welcome reprieve, the reflection of the stars on the water a stark contrast to the heat of the festival.

The still waters of the reflecting pool mirrored the starlit sky above, and for a moment, she let herself bask in the quiet.

She wasn’t alone.

Phainon was the first to speak. "Your form is impeccable," he said, his voice measured. "Every movement precise. It’s rare to see something so well practiced that it looks effortless."

She turned, finding his gaze fixed on her

"I’ve practiced since childhood" she replied simply.

Anaxa leaned against a stone pillar, arms crossed. "Practice alone doesn’t create something like that." His tone was casual, but his eyes betrayed something else, curiosity, maybe. Or something close to respect. "You didn’t just perform out there. You commanded attention to the crowd. That’s not something you learn."

She gave a small shrug. "I don't know if it matters."

Silence stretched between them. The weight of their words settled in.

Her brow furrowed slightly. "You’re here for something."

Mydei’s voice was calm, but there was no mistaking the weight behind his words. "We don’t waste our time."

They were here because she had caught their attention, and not by accident.

___

Sorry if this is not in your expectations, i'm still sick and tried to do this.

[priyajoyy]

You don't have to write Melissa out or even include her. She can be in the background. Just a quick comment about how she's Shauna's new minion and fuck toy but Shauna Don't let her get close to Bunny, because Melissa is into doing dirty work and that could tarnish Bunny. Maybe Lottie and Nat also have a say about how they don't want Bunny anywhere near Shauna's chew toy.

Wrote a response to this forgot to post it and am now rewriting because I’ve had more time to think about it 😭

Deffo wanna do something similar to this in terms of how Natalie and Lottie are so against bunny being involved in Shauna’s new weird toxic situationship with Melissa

However like I’ve just mentioned here I lowkey wanna create a mini secondary love triangle thing with the three of them too 😋

Like where Melissa is lowkey trying to take Jackie’s place and Shauna is letting her, using her to make a version of the threes friendship where they were a throuple like Shauna kinda always wanted 😭😭

I feel like the writing for what I just said didn’t make sense soz

I’ve already said I’m thinking of having bunny be the one to cut bens leg because Shauna makes her

But I kinda want Shauna to use Melissa as another tool to get bunny to do what she wants 😋

Like Mellisa will be where Shauna does most her corrupting and stuff because she likes having bunny docile and innocent, plus Melissa is so so willing to be corrupted

And Shauna will deffo use this to her advantage and then use Mellisa to make bunny do what she wants her to (eg cut bens leg because they’re both pressuring her to and telling her if she don’t they’ll have to kill him)

Bunny will be pretty ambiguous towards Melissa getting involved with them both.

It’s pretty late into the wilderness at this point so she’s already very much under Shauna, Nat and lotties control and very Stockholm Syndromey

So most of her normalcy is gone in her life at this point, and she just kinda goes along with it

At the beginning, before she runs away and hides with Ben in the woods, Melissa provides her with some much needed comfort that the girls havnt been providing her with and she can’t get from the others because they’ve been cutting them off from everyone

However when she comes back it’s gonna be the complete opposite

Melissa and Shauna have bonded (aka Shauna has turned her into a little rabid dog) while she’s been gone and Melissa is more than willing to join in on being super harsh with bunny when she gets back

Shauna, Nat and Lottie are so mad with her for leaving them and Melissa won’t hesitate to help double down on her

[naturallyteal]

Arrangements

A klon poem inspired something for “Arrangement” for GOetry Monday , prompt by @isiaiowin

(Rated mature I guess, so you have to click once if you want to read it.)

Dovetailed fingers, ink black talons

Between soft but manicured hands

Slot your thigh between mine, thin/wide

Twisting tongues, in and out, right/wrong

Curvy tum, gibbous moon, convex

Flush against concave, one and whole

Lay you out, under me, spreadeagled,

Arrange your body on the bed

Locks on sheets, red on blue, pearl on black,

Either way, switch with me, up/down

All the ways we fit together

Hellfire heat burns skins and cores

Holy water melts us both now

We fly, you and I, no too-high

Time halts, float in space, no up/down

I’m you, you are me, we’re an us

Rearrange so we lay like spoons

Never part again from you, Love

This is eternity, Baby!

This bliss! Now kiss. Dovetailed fingers.

Do you hate it when people create something and then tell you how unhappy they are with how it turned out and that it’s no good etc.? I hate that. I never do that. I’m doing it now, because I really need to say it this time: this was a very tough one for me and I’d already given 3/4 up, but then the deadline was postponed, and I put in even more work, and I’m happy with maybe 3 or 4 lines, trying to emulate the rhythm, the in-line rhymes, if not the full set of rules for a klon poem. So I just didn’t want to scrap it all but I’m not proud this time, because I couldn’t get the rest to flow. And the “fanart” is on the same unsatisfactory level. There you go, I did it, self-depreciation! Argh! 😝

[baura-bear]

Something possessed me. First thing I’ve drawn in months.

[leori-the-unlearned]

the way digimon does conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: chef’s kiss <3

the way sonic idw handles creating conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: *wilting flower*

[twentytwothings]

Thoughts on the Steve-Nancy-Jonathan love triangle of season 4

There are two main problems, in my view, with the way the love triangle is set up. The first is this:

Jonathan should have told Nancy the truth, and he should have done it right off the bat, either at the start of the season or even shortly before it.

The thing is, the root conflict between Jonathan and Nancy makes sense. Nancy wants to go to a different college than Jonathan does, one too far away from his family for him to be able to support them the way he wants to. It makes sense he doesn’t want to follow her to Emerson, and it makes sense he doesn’t want her to follow him to his preferred college by giving up on her own dreams either. But Nancy would understand the weight of this as well—she cares about her education and her future.

If Jonathan tells Nancy his reservations, maybe Nancy’s immediate response is, fine, I’ll come with you instead, but on the strength of both her own and Jonathan’s wish for her to follow her own path in life, I think they could both spend season 4 just… thinking. They have by now spent over half a year in a long distance relationship—are they prepared to continue like this through all those years of college? What about after? Who knows what the situation might look like by then, what new concerns might keep them apart? How much of their lives are they willing to dedicate to uncertainty and distance?

We saw in season 3 that their relationship, while rooted in love and respect, is hardly some perfect cloudless fantasy life. Now, building on this, let’s ask the next question: how much are they willing to sacrifice to keep it?

This would give Nancy something real to think through over the course of the season about her relationship with Jonathan and what she’s willing to give up for it. It’s something that requires looking within herself and drawing a conclusion—rather than just being left in the dark to be kind of annoyed and unsure of where she stands with him. As for Jonathan, it avoids making him the cause of the problem, and gives one of the few things he’s got going on this season more weight than a simple lack-of-communication plot.

The likeliest reasons I can think of as to why the showrunners didn’t go this path to begin with would be either 1) because they didn’t think the “separate colleges” problem would be big enough to matter if Jonathan actually said anything about it, in which case Jonathan just looks stupid, or 2) because if this is what breaks Nancy and Jonathan apart, then it wasn’t really an issue of incompatibility between them but just life getting in the way, which could in turn make an endgame Nancy/Steve pairing feel like just a consolation prize to Nancy when she couldn’t be with the guy she really wanted.

I can understand the second one, but I don’t agree with it. People aren’t made for one specific other person; they find someone out of many possible someones and then build a life with them.

Nancy chose Jonathan over Steve once before, that’s true—but they are all three different people now, particularly Steve, and isn’t that the whole thing making her reconsider her relationship with him to begin with? I don’t think you need to demonstrate that Nancy and Jonathan could never have worked out under any circumstances in order to allow Nancy to have an equally worthy, or better, relationship with Steve.

This is not to say that Jonathan and Nancy can’t come out of this still together; in fact, I think this version of events will make an eventual reconciliation all the stronger. If, at the end of the day, they find that yes, they are willing to do what it takes to stay together, whether that means giving up on their individual plans for the future or accepting years of staying in a long-distance relationship or something other than that again, it would feel like their relationship has survived a real trial-by-fire and come out stronger for it. It would, when all is said and done at the end of the final season, give the season 4 strain in their relationship purpose, as it would lead to a real affirmation of the strength of their commitment to one another. But as it stands in canon—assuming Nancy and Jonathan remain together in the end, won’t this little detour of theirs feel kind of weird? What does it provide their relationship that their disagreement in season 3 did not?

In season 4 as it is, Nancy lacks agency, and Jonathan is unreliable. The whole situation feels insubstantial, made up as an excuse for more relationship drama. But it didn’t need to be that way.

There is real weight to Jonathan’s dilemma. Instead of making this another flimsy story about lack of communication breaking a relationship apart—just take the issue at hand seriously.

The second main problem is that Steve and Nancy should have spent the season becoming friends more than anything.

The thing about Steve and Nancy’s dynamic is that it has always been defined by romance. We meet them when they’re already pretty much together, and it’s clear there was no real “just friends” period before that point—just a steadily building flirtation. When they break up in season 2, that also marks the end of their interactions altogether, except for a line or two taking place in a larger group dynamic at the end of season 3. Then season 4 puts them together again and they immediately return to flirting.

The problem here is that their relationship lacks a real sense of foundation. What lies beneath the romance, the dating aspect? I don’t know. I’m not sure they do either. In their time together, they have always adhered to it—and Nancy in particular spent season 2 seeming to be mostly going through the motions of it more than anything. What do they look like together without the societal framework of a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship to fall back on?

Additionally, Nancy and Steve have some real unresolved issues to work through. The show seems to have mostly decided the problem was just that Steve had a lot of growing left to do back when they were dating and leaves it at that, but the reality of their time together and how it impacted both of them could easily be delved into more deeply than that. Talking about it—offering each their perspectives, both what they thought then and how those thoughts have changed by now—would be a compelling way to show the two characters feeling their way back to something like solid ground with one another after so long adrift.

This—hashing out what went wrong in their old relationship—would be happening simultaneously as Nancy is contemplating her current one with Jonathan, pushing her to consider the two in relation to one another. Any hints of Nancy and Steve’s relationship blossoming back up come near the end of the season, when they’ve had time to settle back into being on good terms with each other, and it feels like something they unearth or build anew rather than them just kind of picking back up where they left off.

This also has the benefit of giving them more to do—more of a chance to grow, or to show how they’ve grown—than either of them really had this season otherwise.

Steve holds no speech about how it has “always been you”; he truly moved on in season 3, like he said, even if season 4 sees old feelings coming back to him. They might still talk about whether they might have made it as a couple as the people they are now, and this may or may not take the form of a confession. Eddie doesn’t make any claims about unambiguous signs of true love on Nancy’s part. Possibly nothing is ever stated explicitly—to avoid forcing the issue to come to a point, instead allowing them to potentially sink back into friendship at the end of the day—but there is a sense that an old door, or perhaps just a window, has been reopened.

Narratively, this will strengthen any potential endgame Nancy/Steve relationship, because it will give their difficulties in season 2 and time apart in season 3 greater impact. Their breakup mattered, and it defines their relationship even now, as they struggle to work through it. Their time apart mattered, and it changed how they feel about one another and the places from which they approach each other. It will also narratively strengthen an endgame where they don’t end up together, because their friendship will remain regardless now that it’s no longer dependent upon romance to exist; no matter what happens in the end, an important relationship was repaired and remains repaired, so the time spent developing it won’t feel wasted even if no romance ultimately comes of it.

Comparing canon—what are we left with if Nancy and Steve don’t end up together? What would be the point of it all? Steve-and-Nancy live and die by their romance, and so does the strength of their season 4 screentime together.

In this new version of the story, things don’t look too dissimilar to canon by the end of the season. Like before, Nancy has come to view Steve in a new light. Like before, Jonathan and Nancy still haven’t worked out their problems. Like before, all their relationships face an uncertain future. The destination remains the same; it’s only that the path there has been slightly altered.

[giraffeter]

I often see posts about curating your own online experience that make the point, “content creators aren’t your parents.” And, yes, that is absolutely true! And I try not to be like “as a parent,“ but as a parent…

EVEN PARENTS ARE SUPPOSED TO ENCOURAGE RESPONSIBLE READING/VIEWING BEHAVIOR. NOT filter everything ahead of time for their kid.

When my kiddo was 5, his pediatrician was asking him the usual Well Child Visit questions (“What are your favorite foods? What do you do to get your body moving? Do you know what to do if you get lost in a public place?” Etc.) and she asked, “What do you do if you see something on TV that scares or upsets you?”

I piped up like, “Oh, he doesn’t watch TV without one of us in the room,” which was true at the time and is still largely true now. She said, “Yes, but that won’t always be the case, so make sure you’re talking to him about what to do if he sees something that upsets him.”

So we started talking to him about that, and the answer is simple: “Turn it off or leave the room, and talk to someone you trust about what you saw and what you’re feeling.”

The answer is NOT “Ask your parents to make sure you never see anything upsetting again,” because that’s just not possible — and ultimately that would be doing the kid a disservice, since sooner or later he’s going to be out in the world where we can’t control what he watches or reads. That doesn’t mean we don’t try to make sure he’s watching/reading age-appropriate stuff, it just means that’s not the only safeguard he has — and that’s a good thing.

So yes, content creators aren’t your parents and aren’t responsible for making sure you never see anything you don’t like — but also, your own parents should have taught you what to do when that happens. So if they didn’t, take it from me, your internet mom:

Turn it off.

Walk away.

Talk to someone you trust about how you’re feeling.

And leave the person who created the thing that upset you alone.