#i keep covering for her because i do feel bad for her but its gotten a bit too excessive that maybe i have to be more straightforward

[jils-things]

i won't lie. cu.rly's character writing is actually helping me not do the flaws hes made in the game - and im currently having a little dilemma similar to it. the "be too nice to others you excuse too much of their flaws" dilemma

[rambling-at-midnight]

Don't Go Disappearing On Me Again

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: Jason's lost too much to lose you, too. (We stan healthy communication in this house)

Word count: 2.3k

Ow.

You've never worked Friday nights before at the restaurant, and you never want to again. And you'd thought Saturday mornings were bad.

But one of your favorite coworkers had called you in a panic early this morning, begging you to take her shift, because her lab group's department at GCU was going out to bowling and it would be a great networking opportunity. You were the last person she called, but everyone else before you had declined because they were either scheduled or determined to avoid the shitshow.

And because you were weak, you gave in and said you would cover her Friday night shift as long as she covered your Friday morning shift.

So you two swapped shifts, and you went into your library internship in the morning instead of the evening. It wasn't a particularly hard job, but end-of-week returns had you dashing all over the three floors, so your feet already hurt before you walked into the restaurant.

Right before coming in, you'd texted Jason that you'd gotten held up, and it was a good thing you did, because you haven't had a single break to look at your phone the whole shift. He likely wasn't even awake yet—last night's patrol had been tough on the both of you, him because he came home half beaten to death, and you because you'd had a heart attack waking up in the middle of the night to your bloody boyfriend passing out on top of you in bed. But you usually got home around six from the library, and it was looking like you wouldn't be back until ten at the earliest, so you wanted to let him know. It was going on hour seven after starting at two p.m., when the restaurant switched from its brunch to dinner menu. Personally, you think two p.m. is obscenely early to eat dinner, but apparently rich people loved eating at weird hours, because you had had nonstop tables the entire night.

But the good thing is that the restaurant closes at nine, so you’re almost there. After your last three tables eat and leave, all you have to do is clean your section, close your checks, and clock out.

In the kitchen, you lean against the fridge, rubbing your hips and knees. You’re a little too young to feel so creaky after seven hours on your feet. After all, Jason works all night, doing athletic feats you could never dream of.

You can't really complain, though. You'd gotten lucky with your tables; they'd all tipped well. Maybe you could even add a little bit to your savings account instead of shoving every paycheck right at your student loans, which just keep growing, no matter how much you pay.

“Oh, no,” says Charlotte, one of the other veteran servers at the restaurant. She’s staring at the camera feed display, which is tuned to a livestream of the restaurant’s entranceway. “Don’t you dare seat me now, Ashley, I swear to God.”

“What time is it?” your head jerks up. “We’re about to close, right? Is someone looking for a table?”

“Yeah,” she says, pointing to the screen. “The hottest man in the world just walked in our front door.”

You just hum, not bothering to look in favor of pulling out your phone. You know for a fact that the hottest man in the world is actually at home in your bed right now. “The kitchen’s stopped receiving tickets. No way Ashley seats someone right now.” The screen doesn't light up when you click the power button. Well, shit. It's dead.

“I can’t tell what he’s saying.” Charlotte squints at the screen. “He’s, like, huge. Does Ashley look a little scared to you?”

You’re out of the kitchen without even looking at the screen. You speedmarch right past your tables, ignoring one man’s halfhearted attempts to flag you down for more ketchup. A righteous fire is boiling in your gut. You’ve been here long enough that the managers won’t fire you for telling off any customers that harass the younger workers that are more scared to stand up for yourself.

Your mouth is already open, ready to spew forth the beginning of your tirade, when you recognize the man in front of Ashley at the host stand.

Dressed in gray sweats and a dark T-shirt, slouching slightly, he looks even worse than when you kissed his forehead goodbye that morning. The bruise on Jason's face has properly colored now, purple and blue along his jawline. His hair looks a little flat, like he's been wearing his helmet, which is strange.

Jason's eyes snap onto you the second you appear, and you falter at the intensity there. Something has happened, but you're not sure what.

"Hey," you say, a little hesitant. "What's up?"

Ashley exhales with relief. "So you do know him."

"Yeah," you say without breaking eye contact with Jason, who's staring at you with the same expression you think a wolf would wear when stalking a hare. "He's my boyfriend."

You expect Jason to tell you that someone was in an accident. Someone's in the hospital. Something terrible happened to your apartment while you were gone.

He says none of those things. Instead, Jason says, "I didn't know you picked up a Friday shift."

Ashley's face goes blank.

"I told you I would be home late."

“No,” he corrects. “You texted me that you were being held up.”

“Yeah, at work.”

“And then you disappeared.” Jason’s jaw clenched. “Did you know that a bank was held up this afternoon? Your bank?”

“Oh, shit,” your hand flies up to cover your mouth. “My phone died, I don’t know when. You couldn’t check my location and see I was here?”

He just shakes his head, stiff and wordless.

“Hey, Y/N.” It’s your manager approaching the host stand now, customer service smile on and eyes taking in Jason’s appearance. “What’s going on up here?”

“Hey, Steve,” you say. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend Jason—Jay, this is my manager, Steve—”

Jason gets the hint and smiles close-lipped, reaching to shake Steve’s hand.

“My phone died so he came to see if I needed a ride home.”

“As soon as your tables leave and your section’s clean, you’re good to go. Oh, and you have to roll silverware.”

“It’ll be at least another hour,” you say apologetically to Jason.

“Okay.” His eyes keep boring into you like he’s trying to send you a telepathic message. He’s mad, you get it, but it makes you a little mad, too. You’re a grown adult. Yeah, the miscommunication was your fault, and it’s fine for him to be worried, but he looks close to Red Hood levels of anger, which is totally unwarranted for this situation. “Is it cool if I wait at the bar for you, then?”

“Of course!” Steve answers for you. "Our bartender, Lacy, will be happy to serve you while you wait." He checks his watch. "Until last call, that is."

"He didn't scare you, did he?" you ask Ashley as soon as Steve leaves. You smile at Jason, trying to tease him, but his expression doesn't twitch. "He looks mean, but I promise he's a big ol' softie."

Jason just grunts, but on his way to the bar, he doesn't forget to drop a kiss to your forehead. It warms you from the inside out.

As soon as he's gone, Ashley blurts out, "What happened to his face?"

"Motorcycle accident," you fib. "Oh, my table's calling me."

You rush over to take care of the poor man's ketchup—he's been waiting almost five whole minutes—and check out another party. The back of your neck prickles as you do. Every time you glance at the bar, Jason's green eyes are locked on your every move. It flusters you so much that when your table leaves, they say thanks, and you respond with, "Good morning!"

"What?"

"Thanks, you too!"

You run back to the kitchen, and everyone immediately starts interrogating you about your 'huge hunky boyfriend' (Charlotte's words, not yours).

By some miracle, all your tables clear out by closing time, and you’re out by 9:20. There are still a couple people at the bar, but Jason’s up immediately to walk out with you, leaving his water glass on the counter.

He doesn’t say anything, though you can feel his eyes on you whenever you aren’t looking. You won’t fight in public, so you follow his lead and stay quiet.

He drove your car to pick you up, and even though he’s obviously mad, he holds the passenger door open for you before getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive home is silent. He parks in the spot for your shared apartment, then immediately, quietly, asks, “Why’d you pick up a shift without telling me?”

"It was super last-minute," you say. He's still facing forward, so you do the same, eyeing his profile out of the corner of your eyes. "Like, it happened this morning. I thought you were sleeping, so I didn't want to blow up your phone with texts. I thought you'd just check my location and see where I was when you woke up."

Jason's hand clenches on the center console. "I woke up and I was terrified."

"I'm sorry—"

"And the bank, and your wording, and your phone was off—"

"I know," you say, putting your hand over his fist. He unclenches immediately to lace his fingers with yours. "I'll make sure I tell you next time."

Jason takes a deep breath in, then lets it out. In a rush, he finally turns to face you and says, "I don't mean to be controlling."

You blink. "I don't think you're being controlling."

"You don't?" Jason frowns. "Then why were you so mad when I walked into your work?"

"Mad? I'm not mad—you're mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you, what are you talking about?"

"You've been glaring this whole time! And you didn't say a word this entire car ride."

"Because I thought you were angry. I wanted to give you space."

"Okay, wait, wait, wait." You hold up a hand. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad at me?"

"No," he says earnestly. "I was worried and scared, but you're an adult. You don't have to ask for permission if you want to pick up a shift at work." He makes a face like the thought disgusts him.

"Okay," you say. "Okay, well if you're not mad at me, I'm not mad at you, either."

"Then why did you look so pissed when I walked in?"

You press your lips together to keep from smiling. "Well, we have cameras that show us up front while we're in the kitchen, right? One of my coworkers was watching and said 'the hottest man in the world' walked in and I didn't look because I thought the hottest guy in the world was still asleep in my bed—"

Jason covers his face with his hands. You can't stop your smile now, and you pull them away so you can look at said handsome face. "And I didn't even look because I'm such a loyal, awesome partner—"

"You are pretty awesome," he agrees, trying to sound serious, but he's grinning like an idiot, too. His cheeks are flushed pink.

"I know I am. But then Charlotte said that the hostess, Ashley, looked a little intimidated by him, so I walked out to see if she needed help."

"Aw," Jason says. He lowers his chin to look at you from underneath his lashes, pretty as a picture. "Were you going to give me a stern talking-to?"

"I can still give you one," you offer.

"Maybe later."

He's still grinning, and you're still grinning, so the both of you are grinning at each other like idiots in the car.

You want to kiss him, and he's your boyfriend. You're allowed to do that whenever the two of you want, so you take Jason by the chin and pull his mouth to yours.

Jason sighs against you, and it's like all the tension in his body melts away. One hand comes up to cradle your jaw, the other on the back of your head.

You break away to murmur, "Are you patrolling tonight?" He's still so beaten up.

"No," he whispers, voice low and gravelly in a way that has butterflies whipping around like a tornado in your stomach.

"Good. Wanna go up and be the hottest patient in the world while I look at your wounds?"

"Only if you're the hottest nurse in the world."

"Oh, but then who will be the hottest chef in the world who makes dinner?"

"The hot chef is on vacation right now," Jason joked. "But I can be a really hot food-orderer. What takeout are you in the mood for?"

"You're the injured one. What do you want?"

"I want whatever you want."

You narrow your eyes in a glare. "Well, I want whatever you want."

"You gotta make a decision," he says, already on his phone. "You're the hottest decision-maker in the world, I'm the hottest food-orderer."

"Chinese?"

"You got it."

Right before he dials the number, you grab him and kiss him again. When you pull back, he chases after your lips. It's so tempting that you give him another firm peck before you pat his chest once.

Jason blinks twice, looking dazed. "What was that for?"

You shrug. "I just wanted to kiss the hottest man in the world."

"Oh, my God." He groans and covers his face again, but you can see his red ears. "You're never gonna let that go?"

"Mmm." You pretend to consider it. "No."

DC taglist:

@evalynanne @mismatchsposts

Forever taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit  @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

[k-aemi]

haii, i would like to request stepcest with rin itoshi. like he caught her dry humping his pillow when he got home. and he's gonna punish her for that, thank you so much!

itoshi rin ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ told you to wait for me.

smut, stepcest, use of toys

it wasnt like you planned this or even meant for this happen. it just sort of did. knowing rin, he did have a rough time making connections with others with his cold demeanor after the encounter with sae that one night. after that, hes just as determined as ever, hoping to excel over sae.

he has his frustrations. kicking the ball wouldnt help because itd get too flat by the time, and he couldnt just punch a random hole in the wall, destroying his fathers house. the only one that would keep up with him and not break is you. he can use you again and again.

he knows its wrong but fuck he cant enough of that face of yours. though hes focused on his career, he has his urges too y'know? after all, hes just a guy.

plus its not like you mind, he thinks. ever since hes touched you, all you ever did was comply and let him do as he pleased. yeah hes your step brother, but who can resist such an handsome guy? and one with long bottom lashes too at that.

his touch is too addictive. those godly thick thighs, his slender fingers, and those siren eyes of his has you in a trance. its like a one in a billion chance and yet hes your step brother which you find annoying.

hes always away for long period of time due to football, it has you longing for his touch. you shouldnt be treating this like it’s a regular thing(which is not). but hes like a drug. not like youve taken any but if you had to give an example it would be rin.

you just cant help when he texts you to just wait for him, itd be about twenty minutes before his practice ends, but its twenty minutes too long! youre in his bed, inhaling his scent around the room as you wear his hoodie thats of course way too oversized for you, but you loved feeling small around him. it gave you an excitement to just wanna be so obedient to rin.

its been far too long, theres no way you can wait for another half an hour…its fine right? a little fun time with yourself wouldnt hurt. and it definitely wouldnt hurt having your pussy juices all up on his pillow.

just some slight friction should get you off. his scent is enough to keep you going. slowly propping yourself on his pillow, grinding against it. little groans elicit from your mouth continuing your movements.

“r-rin…” you whimper out, imagining it was your older brother beneath you instead of this dumb pillow. you miss his voice, his touch, his beautiful face. you just wanted him home right now. you sped up your movements while your forehead rests on the pillow, hands clenching on the fluff.

the way the pillow rubs against your clit so slightly just wasnt enough…you wanted his long fingers to circle your bud, until youre crying and begging for him to stop. you wan’ his cock in your mouth, face fucking you till youre gagging. wan’ his long cock to fuck that sweet pussy of yours.

its wrong. its wrong to yearn for his touch. you know its fucked up, but you cant stop yourself once youve gotten a taste of him.

“mmh—please r-rin needa come so bad..” you breathed out as your rubbing becomes sloppy but faster.

“do you now.” your eyes widened at the sudden stern voice from afar. you halt before look behind you, only to see him leaning against the door frame.

“rin! wha—i thought you didnt leave until—“ “canceled early due to rain.” he didnt say anything further except walked to the bed. you can feel the dip and you cover yourself in his blanket.

“dont act like ive never seen this sweet pussy before.” closing in on you, he removes the covers before harshly rubbing circles on your sensitive bud, pressing onto it.

“r-rin—! oh god…please..” your hips moved in a circular motion , staring down at his ministrations on you.

yes, you waited for this! for his touch…god he makes you feel incredible no matter the day, mood, or situation. his touch was magical. like a cure to any illness.

that feeling of joy soon fades as he retreats his hand. “h-huh…? rin? whyd you stop! need to come…” you whined and he can only keep that stoic face of his. he caresses your cheek softly as he sighs.

“told you to wait, cant even follow simple directions silly ‘mouto?” that was…true. but if you had known he would come home so early you wouldnt have done it! you swear!

“thought youd take to long thats why…’m sorry wont do it again…” you take hold of his wrist placing it onto your clit to rub, feeling that sensation again..only to retract his hand and grab hold of your jaw, squishing your cheeks tightly.

“who said you can just do that huh? had a fuckin’ bad today, and you just g’na make it even worse for me.” he growled, the pain in your jaw starting to leave you sore. youre squirming under his touch. “s-sorry rin didnt know…” he clicks his tongue before opening the drawer of the night stand next to his bed, revealing a little toy vibrator.

“you do this and ill stuff you with my cock yeah?” he licks a stripe up your cheek and you nod eagerly. you loved his cock, his cum tastes a bit sour but the aftertaste always makes you desiring more<3

rin attaches the vibrator to your bud and you huffed from the contact, the cold air hitting your bare pussy. rin turns it on to the lowest setting and you let out a ragged breath. its not too intense but felt good. but not good enough…you wanted to increase the power just a bit.

but of course rin isnt gonna give you what you want. what he wants. he raises it to the maximum and you squeal. your back arched as you try to reach out to rin to grab hold of. “r-rin! too much!” your thighs tensed.

“yeah, that’s the good stuff.” he would occasionally lower, then higher the intensity of the vibration and it had you going nuts. you just wanted to come, but rin isnt giving you that!

“this what you get and ill make sure you dont forget what happens when you dont listen to your nii chan.” rin is so mean…but he’s actually super nice. hes just frustrated right now and wants to relieve some of that stress on to you which you dont mind. even if he continues to deny your orgasm.

you dont even know how many times youve came so close to cum…but rin knows you too well when youre bout to. he always times it just right so that youd lose that excitement in your pussy. your eyes are teary and you cant even control your breathing from the intensity.

you wanna just touch yourself and finish the job but you know hell even deny you for more hours! so you better behave…even if youre crying for him to just let you cum.

rin coos you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing your forehead. “think you learn your lesson yeah?” you nod eagerly. you wanted to come so bad, wanted his seed inside of you.

he chuckled. he knows you want to have that sweet released. but he loves seeing you so vulnerable beneath him. you can take a little more can you? of course you can, you want the best for your nii chan right?

“know you can handle it a bit longer ‘mouto. then ill give you my cock okay?.”

late post again was lazyy (⇀‸↼‶)

divider: magicalboything

[kadwrites]

an introduction | T.S

previous part | next part

or check out the series masterlist

summary ; you meet your husband to be for the first time.

warnings ; angst, dysfunctional family ig? , arranged marriage trope. bad writing?

a/n ; is it good? is it bad? is it too long? who knows. thank you for the support <3 please let me know what you think!

_

you hadn't left your room for the past three days. celest would be there , feeding you, holding you as you cried.

tonight though, you couldn't sleep because the sounds of your siblings yelling is keeping you away from the slumber you very much needed.

"you did what?"

oliver's brows furrow, his very pregnant wife , renee , sits beside him, her eyes open wide and a hand on her belly.

his mother tries to act like she didn't feel the guilt clawing at her heart , she sips her tea, "it's about time she got a husband."

"mum , what were you thinking? what has gotten into you?" his voice isn't loud, it isn't his usual roar, which is what concerned his wife. she puts a hand on his shoulder "you're forcing 'er to marry thomas shelby? are you fucking insane? have you lost your bloody mind?"

"im not forcing her to do anything, she agreed."

"after ya slapped 'er."

celest lets out a chocked sob at the mention of that

his mother's eyes are stern when they look up at him, resenting the fact that he brought it up

"she's a wild girl, she raised her voice at me"

"what did you expect 'er to do?" he got up, and his wife desperately tries to calm him down "lay on 'er back and open 'er legs?"

"to obey her mother."

"the mother that treated 'er own daughter like a piece of meat?" his jaw clenched, his hands shake "how could you do that? you didn't even tell us anything."

abraham is pacing around. his girlfriend ,anna stands in the doorway, watching this unfold. what else was she supposed to do?, its not like she can do anything. celest is sitting on a chair, her face buried in her hands as she cries. their father wasn't at home, he was out visiting his brother.

he's been avoiding this very incident like the plaque.

"when did this even 'appen?" abraham walks and stands next to oliver, both of them staring at their mother, his voice trembles as he tries to hold back whatever he had to say.

"why does it matter?" their mother slams the teacup on the table "it's already happened. what good is it going to do if we keep talking about it?"

"how long 'ave you been plottin' at this?" oliver's voice gets louder, his wife tries to get up but cant, abraham grabs his shoulder instead. "are you that desperate for money?"

"i did it-"

"for 'er ? securing 'er a future, yeah? is that what you tell yourself?" celest finally speaks, her face glistening with tears as she stands up

celest was always her mother's daughter. being the eldest, she always aimed to please her but when this happened, she couldn't even stand to look at her mother. she knew their mother was looking for a suitor ,she tried to reason with her, telling her how her younger sister would never agree, that she'll just yell and maybe even try to run away. celest never knew that the suitor her mother had in mind was thomas shelby, she never knew that he'd already agreed to all of this.

their mother's eyes move to celest, renee and anna share a look , and anna stands with her mouth covered. "this is not going to end well." ,they both think.

"what?"

"i said is that what you think you're doing? that you're doing whats best for 'er?" celest repeats "when you and i and everyone in this room knows who thomas shelby is, we know what he does, we know how he lives"

"he will take care of her." she raises her voice as well

"mother...." abraham warns, with his eyes closed. he knows the words she will say next would just anger everyone further

"i dont want her to end up like you! with a man that has you living in a piss poor excuse of a house, running after his spawn." her mother spits those words out like venom.

"i love 'im, i chose 'im, and i never ever regretted that decision, i never once complained,i never doubted his love or loyalty" celest walks closer "i will live a good life with a man who is good to me, an honest man. would she say the same about the husband you chose for 'er?"

"she will love him! she will grow to love him" she yells those words, as if she desperately wants them to be true.

celest lets out a chuckle , looking at her mother as if she was insane "do you not hear yourself? do you not hear how you sound?" then she moves even closer,"you're ruining 'er life!" celest cried, her screams sound through the whole house, abraham is now holding her back, as she squirms and thrashes "is this what you fucking want ? for your own child to live a miserable life?"

oliver left the living room at some point and he was inside your room now, somehow.

he crouched at the side of the bed, where you're laying on your stomach, cheek against the pillow and covers tucked up to your neck.

"i..." he tries to speak, he lets out a breath "i didn't know" he felt guilty for some reason, as if he could've stopped this.

"i know"

"you don't 'ave to say yes" he puts a hand on your head smoothing down your hair. oliver was never the one for affection, always awkward with it. "you don't. you can say no"

"i cant" you whisper back to him, your eyes look at him and they are once again filled with tears, your lips quiver

"yes you can"

"no i can't" you let out a sob "and you know that."

he just looks back at you, keeps on smoothing down your hair

"its not your responsibility to save them."

"it is now"

and he knew he couldn't change your mind, "she says he's comin' by tomorrow ,to see you."

silence ensues. you two just stare at each-other not knowing what to say

for the first time in his life, oliver the man with the biggest mouth, the loudest voice, the one who always fought you over that one spot on the table, doesn't know what to say. he has nothing to say.

he slowly gets up, and leaves the room, closing the door behind him gently.

and when that dreaded morning comes, you find yourself on your vanity chair, looking at your reflection in the mirror, your face still almost emotionless

celest stands behind you, brushing your hair,she's crying silently, and you just stare at the mirror

you knew that those steps belonged to your mother, you'd memorized how they sounded when you were a child , when you pretended to be asleep so she wouldn't know you'd stayed awake past your bedtime. she walks and stands next to celest, you don't look at her, you just stare at yourself.

celest puts the brush on the table and she walks away, she walks to the window, trying to calm down. your mother picks up the brush.

"i know you think im cruel, and that i'm selfish. but i did it for your sake." she speaks

this is the first time you'd even seen her since it all happened

your eyes dart up to her, she doesn't look at you, she just looks down at your hair as she brushes it.

"when your father got sick, i never thought we'd lose the farm too, we lost the very thing that gave us most of our money." she pauses for a second "i know this isnt how you wanted to get married, it was not an easy decision for me either"

"i don't love 'im" your voice is soft, its not angry

"love isn't everything, you don't need it to be content" she continues "i didn't love your father when i married him , but love follows"

"he is nothing like my dad"

your mother stops again "he's a hardworking man, he was in the war , wasn't he? just like yer father."

"my father was a farmer," she muttered "that's what you loved about 'im, what you've come to love. that he is a good man but the man you're marrying me off to isn't"

you sound like celest.

your words cut deeper than you thought they would, your mothers eyes close, she sighs "you're my youngest child and i want you to live a good life when me and your father are no longer here .a safe life. i dont want you to need a roof over your head or worry about money or food"

you don't want to argue , so you don't. you just let her brush your hair and neatly style it. she brings a box and opens it, inside it a golden necklace with a ruby as a pendant, she puts it on you, she smiles at your reflection

"i wore it when i married your father", maybe it will bless your marriage too, your mother thinks to herself.

you don't say anything, you just do what you're told. you were too tired to fight this anyways. you just wanted this day to pass

and then you hear it, your brother's voice as he greets him, despite his anger your oliver sounds polite. their voices are muffled but you hear them.

you mother walks you down the stairs and when you descend you see him, on the green sofa , talking to your father and your brothers and as if he could sense your presence his eyes dart up the stairs and he sees you.

you feel as if the whole house ran out of air, and as if your lung collapsed. you look back at him nonetheless as you walk down the stairs.

it feels as if their voices are distant as your family greets him, very welcoming and warm they sound but you can't process a word. you just look at him. you think you mumbled a greeting too, you're not sure.

he got up when you entered the living room, he looks you up and down but only for an instant and then his eyes go back to yours. you cannot see any emotion on his face.

you sister stands at your side, renee on the other, they sit with you between them on the couch facing him, the rest of your family scattered around the room but you didn't look at them, too busy looking at the man you'll marry. it's almost as if you can visibly see the blood on his hands.

but when he speaks , you snap back into reality out of your trance

"its a pleasure to finally meet you."

his voice is deep, calm and collected. for some reason it sends a chill down your spine

"the pleasure is mine" you say back, as politely as you could.

slowly, person by person, your family leaves the room

you glance at the window, your brothers and father are outside smoking, pretending to not watch. celest, renee and anna are under the foyer.

your mother and mrs gray are in the kitchen, having tea, when did she come in here?, you didn't even notice her.

you lean back against the sofa, you stare at him just like he stares at you

"mind if i smoke?" he already has his cigarette between his lips , he pulls out his lighter

"no" you say curtly , you sit on the sofa in the most expensive dress you own, your newest heels,

he offers you a cigarette, you eye it. you hadn't smoked since your parents caught you smoking on the roof but they've disappointed you, so what if you disappoint them one more time

you pull a cigarette out, he passes you the light and you light it, then putting it out

he leans back as well, crossing his legs

"are you good with children? can you care for them?"

you nod, your cigarette hangs between your fingers"i 'ave one nephew and 4 nieces, one on the way too"

"i 'ave a boy"

his eyes give nothing away no matter how long you stared at him , looking for a crack in the mask

"what's his name?" you ask softly

"charles"

"how old is he?"

"four, he's turning five soon"

"is that why you're looking for a wife? to look after your son?"

"thats a part of it, yes" he exhales the smoke, he throws an arm around the back of the sofa

"what's the other part?"

"i need a wife and i want someone i can trust around my boy when im not around"

you nod , your eyes look away for the first time.

"do you feel like you can do that?"

you turn back to look at him

"i believe so , yes"

he nods, "are you being forced into this?" he's blunt. it doesn't take a genius to know that you're not happy, that you're reluctant.

"no, i'm not"

"i don't want to marry you if you're unwilling"

"i said i'm not ,didn't i?" you tried to hold back your tongue, but you couldn't

his brow raises at this ,"you don't exactly look like you're content with your decision"

"is this an interrogation?" you ask, stubbing the cigarette on the ashtray that sits on the table. partly because the taste of it made you nauseous, having not had one in years. the other part annoyed and defensive

"i believe its called an introduction" a his face is still stoic, but his voice is betraying him, it's sounds as though he's amused.

you look up, you hate to admit it but you can't deny it. he looks handsome, in his expensive suit, his glasses, his cheek bones. celest was right, at least he is easy on the eyes

"an introduction, aye?"

"hmm"

you just look at eachother, you blink a couple of times, then lean back again.

"its my decision, mr shelby." you try to compose yourself, "it wasn't forced on me,"

he nods again,

"do you 'ave any conditions?"

"i do..." you lick your lips nervously "my father, he's sick"

"i will take care of his medical expenses" he nods before you could finish that sentence

"it would be nice if i could finish my own fucking sentences"

he lets out a dry chuckle, and you take it as a sign to continue

"he's never been properly checked , we don't know what exactly is wrong with 'im" you sigh "my only condition is that 'im and my mother would be looked after, financially and medically."

"they will be"

"i want it in writing" you hesitate but then say it anyways , you don't know if you can trust him, you don't care if you offend him.

he looks at you, his eye travel between yours "alright"

you let out a breath you didn't know you've been holding

-

@tardisloverz , @optimisticsandwichgladiator

[missmarveledsblog]

Never doubt the Matchmaker ( jake seresin x reader )

Summary : nat phoenix trace was well known by her friends and coworkers as being a excellent matchmaker although jake seresin thinks it all bullshit till he finally let her set him up and jake learns never to doubt the matchmaker ...

warnings : goofy , fluffy , miscommunication sort of rom com feel to it , picture doesn't describe the reader just cover art i started making for fics

Natasha trace  was a woman of many talents , she was strong , determined , and calculated . all good qualities that made her one of best female pilots but she also had another talent one that didn't even remotely have to do with the navy and it was her match making skills . when she disclosed the information it got laughs  , didn't bother her she laughed along with them .  then one by one it would start off joking then hinting to outright asking. first it was fanboy then bob then javy then rooster. only one she didn't get asked by was payback giving the man was already married and jake who still thought it was all  crock .  she didn’t really concern herself with what bagman had to say the results spoke for themself .  fan boy was living with the barista she set him up with , bob was married to the animal shelter volunteer , javy was still going strong with the yoga instructor while  rooster only began seeing the nurse it was still good and boy was he already gone . the results spoke for themselves as always but jake still a skeptic , still ready to shoot it all down of course . 

“ he’s just afraid of finding the one is all “ rooster laughed .

“ i mean i don’t doubt your skill but hangman finding the one is a bit far fetched ��� bob shook his head amused in the constantly denial of the match making but in fairness they all were  til she did her thing. 

“ don’t worry bagman i wouldn’t subject any woman to deal with you “  phoenix rolled her eyes . 

“ because its not working i mean rooster would fall in love with a rock” he countered as the brunette exclaimed out a “ hey “ 

 “ why does it bother you so much , you feeling left out , a little lonely “ she taunted . 

“ never lonely phoenix i can get a girl to keep me warm at night any time” he winked  taking his shot potting the ball . 

“ why don’t you let her set you up then “ bob suggested . 

“ he’s right you think it’s fake then prove it “ javy added . 

“ ain’t you suppose to be on my side here?” 

“ come on man what have you got to lose”  rooster smirked . 

“ you know what i’ll bit just to show you i’m right” he crossed his arms looking to the female pilot.

“Fine  i’ll set you up bagman “ nat shook her head . 

It had been weeks since the whole agreement in the hard deck and jake constantly being the one to let her know the fact . then like an angel to answer all there prayers she found the one , the one that would have jake seresin eating his words .  then one day during lunch jake was looking at text of details for a date saturday . he promised to give the woman a chance   , knowing full well it would end like all his dates do  and that part wasn’t so bad .  He’d gotten the womans number striking up a conversation , she could least do that only thing was when he asked for selfie she would reply later , later never came then it was “ i forgot next” which didn’t fill him with much fate but still keeping his word he continues to chat . saturday he was on the beach  a regular tradition now playing dog fight football as the guys asked about his  date. 

“ i mean we text but no selfies so not promising “ he called as nat shook her head. 

“ she hot bagman not that it matters “ she rolled her eyes . 

“ all chicks say there friends are hot , i’m just being honest” he smirked . 

“ not al about looks “ rooster pointed out . 

“ says the guy with the hot nurse girlfriend , you telling me if she wasn’t attractive to you in the smallest bit you would be with her ?” he asked . 

“ yeah because of the person , she is” . 

“ again not that it matters but y/n is a hotty and well able to handle you “ nat scoffed . 

“ yeah we’ll see about that phoenix”. 

When he got home  still texting his date asking her what she was going to wear so he would be able find her .  all he got back was long red dress probably something a grandma would wear  he didn’t know why but that was what he thought . then he got ready   thinking the worse as time got closer , like it was set up in a different way , a ploy for phoenix to get back at him and set him up with some lady that had twenty cars the generic mad woman crossing his mind .  he could slip out early that was for sure  although javy was telling him it would be ok also agreed to call with fake emergency. He was glad he agreed to meet somewhere else because if this was a trick least there would be no witnesses that was for sure . checking over least he looked good   as he looked down at his dress pants that fit snugly on his legs of the light blue almost whitish blue shirt that made his chest and arms look great . he was ready to prove natasha trace wrong and make a  lady happy to get the jake seresin experience . he was sure it was going to be a disaster , some sort of catfish situation even though he had yet to she her face expectations were not high. He stood outside  the bar it was classy  place so who he thought he would meet would stand out a mile off already building an image of some desperate woman .   parking and taking one look at his phone both message one to tell him she was at the bar and another from javy to have good time but he was also on standby if needed . heading in there was one woman at the bar in a red dress , long that stopped at her shins , her long legs crossed with a pair of black open toed heels   , spagetti string straps as she looked around she was gorgeous. Maybe if his  date failed he could ? . 

She couldn’t believe she let natasha trace do her whole match maker thing knowing how it was going to fail , from texting the guy it was ok nothing special didn’t seem like he was into it either so least she wouldn’t be the only one who was going to go into it with less expectations , plus she could only imagine what she was going to meet not that she didn’t find  nat’s flyboy friends attractive because they were but they lacked a little something  .  she herself worked as a mechanic not as glorious or as dangerous as  the navy but she and nat bonded over being in a male dominated area even still she was confused as the receptionist . now here she was sitting waiting for some stranger  when she could be in her shop finishing the shit ton of cars that needed to be fixed but maybe a few drinks would be ok  , help take the busy week off her shoulders . one so busy she kept forgetting to send a selfie and then she thought it would be more fun to keep the mystery going . she text him to let him know he was at the bar barely flickering her gaze  when he text to say  he was outside well here it was. 

“ showtime “ she winked to the bartender downing the drink waiting for whatever disaster  that was coming her way . 

“Erm y/n “ the  southern drawl clear his throat she turned to raise her hand. 

“ over here” she smiled ok , so he wasn’t tragic looking maybe it was shallow but hey he was gorgeous blonde so she wasn’t complaining . 

“ well darling nice to meet you “ he beamed , he’d give nat this one she was the hotty at the bar . 

“ jake?  Nice to meet you too “ she held her hand out almost swallowed in his own , lifting it to his lips and kissing her hand .

“ what are you drinking ?” he nudged . 

“ just beer , southern boy huh” her own accent coming out more as she talked . 

“ austin born and raised , you ?” he took the seat  noting the slight disappointed glance of bartender since he came over. 

“ dallas , would you like to go sit down and get some food because i for one am hungry ?”  

“ lead the way beautiful whatever you want it on me “  he beamed holding his hand out and letting her take him anywhere and it would be anywhere damn she was like a siren luring him to sea .  following the sway of her hips like they were personal hypnotizing him and maybe they were , pulling the seat out putting the full gentlemen charm because shit she had him hooked with her body already . 

“ so jake from austin what made you ask nat for her skills “ she asked looking up  ever the gentlemen pulling her chair out and pushing it in for her as she looked up through her lashes at the blonde . 

“ honest answer?” to which she nodded .  “ honestly i wanted to see if she was good as other say kinda a skeptic but maybe not so much “ he winked as her  head tipped back and wondrous sound of her laugh came out. 

“ oh my god same i only agreed because she set my cousin up with ostrich , duck some bird dude “ she laughed . 

“ rooster?” 

“ YES !  i haven’t met him yet but my cousin  ironic dove is singing his praise then when she told me she got a perfect match not gonna lie since your being honest and all but i said no for while stuff at works been well hectic “ she shook her head. 

“ what is you do , you never said in your texts plus you owe me a selfie or two “ he teased . 

“ a mechanic actually while other girls where playing with barbies i was playing with tools and hotwheels i’m only girl of a bunch of boys so i guess when i wanted to be one of them safe to say my mom was little let down to say the least “ she chuckled . 

“ i’m only boy of bunch of girls i’m second born though “ 

“I’m the baby  , i’m actually working in a shop owned by my two older brothers and top at my job not as exciting as being a aviator for the navy though” she winked . 

“ nah i’m impressed least i know if my truck ever  has trouble i know who will take care of it for me” he smirked leaning forward honestly he hated how much he was going to be hearing nat gloat because he was already hooked  this woman was perfect although she was a decade younger but fuck she was making him feel like a teenager.

The date was good he laughed a lot she was funny , she seemed interested in knowing him and   kept the conversation light nothing was felt pushed or awkward . it was perfect date  he hated he would have to tell phoenix  as much he didn’t want that night to end ,  they even made out in the back of his truck  so why was it two days after the date and everything was radio silent . only thing that he was told was she got home safe and would contact him again .  he never had that much fun on a date especially one that didn’t end in sex , he wanted to be respectful , he also didn’t wanna text and come off desperate so he was wondering what hell went wrong .  maybe he could ask nat and swallow his pride at the fact she was good but clearly not good if he was ghosted . 

She wondered what went wrong did she come on too  strong , did he not like her .  the date was perfect and yet she never  got text back after she told him she got home safe .  it was all good even making out in the back of his truck til he stopped it now she was slightly annoyed he ghosted her .  burying herself in the overflowing work she could of been doing instead  when the familiar sound of an engine . to see natasha trace coming her way all smile probably ready to hear about how it all went . 

“ i’m mad at you “ y/n huffed tying her hair up before diving back into the hood of the corvette that needed dire attention.  

“ what did he do ?” she groaned now holding the coffee she brought like a peace offering instead of an early celebration . 

“ ghosted me  , i thought we had a great time  , even made out in his stupid truck and boom nothing even when i offered him to follow me “ she grumbled looking up . 

“ wait what javy said jake had great time i was here to rub it in both of you “ . 

“ well i’ll do that rubbing in your matchmaking skill ain’t all that .. but i love you and you didn’t know this was gonna happen so i guess i ain’t actually mad at you… my vagina might be “ she laughed finally taking the coffee. 

“ i’m gonna find out what going on cause something is  not adding up “ nat brows furrowed as she head off ignoring the protest that came from y/n mouth . 

She couldn’t make sense of it , according to javy he was smitten  like really smitten so what the hell was going on .  she knew y/n was younger than jake by ten years was that it but then she was thinking jake would date younger than himself maybe not that gap but again it didn’t seem to bother him . it wasn’t even to do with the match making anymore ..ok maybe it was could that be it , he was ghosting y/n in his own need to be right.  Now she was pissed  as she drove a little faster ,  parking her car and storming down the halls. She didn’t even look at the guys when she got to jake staring up , eyes narrowed  and hands on hips . 

“ what is your problem how come your ghosting y/n ,  she said she had a great time with you and what  is it your need to be right because that fucked if you don’t like her least be a man and tell her “ she gritted . 

“ what are you talking about  , she ghosted me nat  she should grow up and tell you the truth “ he scoffed . 

“ she looked upset although she wouldn’t show it …  she thinks you don’t like her she offered  her place ?” nat said even more confused .

“ believe it or not i was being a gentlemen because i actually did like the her.. The date “ he corrected pulling his phone out to show the fact he ended up texting her couple times . 

“ oh you stupid man , it concerning your still flying that not her the name is similar but you’ve been texting another woman no wonder she didn’t answer … idiots “ she scoffed as jake looked at his phone he didn’t even realize that name was still in his phone  he just saw the first three letters and was currently cursing the device in his hand .  it all connecting in his mind only for rooster to say it all out loud. 

“ shit you actually ghosted her after all” .

“ where she work  cause she not gonna believe me if i text her now ?” he asked chasing after nat  who honestly was done with life at the moment. 

“ if i  tell you , you gotta wear a shirt that says i was right for three nights of my choosing in hard deck ?” nat mused even though she was gonna help him either way but didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun too . 

“ you know what i’ll let you have six , come on “ he pleaded  ready to dart out knowing he’s morning was free . 

“  don't make me regret this “ nat smirked texting the address . “ make sure you check the right message “ she called as he ran off flipping her off . 

 he didnt know what it was but he was hooked on this girl like some sort of spell was cast on him  . he usually didn't bother texting after the fuck boy tendency  was strong he knew it himself but shit he was so disappointed and turned out to be his fault his fuckboy ways or some sort of self sabotage  .  already losing something so good before it even started he wanted to delete all the contacts in his phone maybe change his number start a new leaf. He was just hoping he wasn’t too late as he got into his truck nat sent another message telling him  the  coffee and baked good  peace offering to bring  as well as his size  maybe he would wear the shirt  an extra night for that. It was a race for what he didn’t know but he wanted to find out.   

She was tired but finally she gotten on top of the overflow of repairs  ones even her brothers were impressed she managed to pull of maybe the frustration of being ghosted was working in her favor , she was ready to grab her coat and head out . 

“ hey kiddo truck coming in can you sort this while i sort something in the office” her brother mikey called . 

“ you gotta be shitting me i’m heading out deal with it yourself” she scoffed. 

“ do it and i’ll give you rest of week off and next week  paid and overtime?” he said holding phone to his ear . 

“ fine after this i’m out for a week and half   “ she rolled her eyes throwing her things down tying her hair up . 

“ yeah she going  i think a date would be a good payment huh trace” he chuckled heading into the office. 

She was huffing and puffing but hey time of and extra money she could be happy with , what she wasn’t happy with was a tall blonde aviator standing by the truck . 

“ we’re closed” 

“ says your open “ he nodded to the neon sign. 

“ busy should of called a head.. Or do you have a phone?” she scoffed hand on her hip  , burning hole in his head with the fiery gaze she had on him . 

“ can we talk please ? i got your favorites here” he held up the container. 

“ you could of talked to me before , my brother is in there i will not hesitate to get the bat from his car “ 

“  hear him out … heres your stuff and thanks for screwing up so i can get a date with nat “ mikey called placing her stuff at the door before heading in and locking the door . 

“ traitor “ she mumbled taking her bag and  only see her car keys missing . “ son of a bitch “ she grumbled .  But it wasn’t going to get her down  no come hell or nothing she would walk her ass home . so she did turning out away completely not even sparing the blonde a second look or care if he was following her or not. 

“ come on please let me explain “ jake called. 

“ explain nothing if nat sent you here tell her it’s all good “ she waved over her shoulder not only was  she pissed she was no embarrassed thinking he owned her explanation .  which he did but one of his own violation and not one her friend force him to make .   she heard his booths hitting the asphalt , she could hear the panting  behind her shaking her head she kept walking . 

“ come on please” 

“ you ghost me , i practical ask you to sleep with me i thought you were doing the whole gentlemen thing  but turned out you just didn’t like me which is fine i mean not everyone gonna like me but shit when are guys gonna be honest and be like look i ain’t feeling it   or some shit “ she snapped not caring about the group of guys walking by .  

“ dude you blind “ one commented as she just groaned walking past them all . 

“ hey hey  i did want to ok and i was trying to be a gentlemen , i wanted to take you in backseat of the pickup if i could “ he yelled only instead of the group of guys passing it was a group of elderly women . 

“ pig “ one scoffed as they hurried passed. 

“ i thought you ghosted me ok …i maybe even worse asshole to admit that i was texting the wrong number because the names were similar which i’m going to have to text that person the same thing cause i’m pretty sure she married now” he winced as she finally stopped walking . 

“ you want me believe and if i did it worse that it was a mistake dude it ok we didn’t click i mean i thought we did … oh shit “ she said as he held his phone up showing her the messages her name but the contact was similar . “ is it safe for you to be flying “ she asked .

 “ yes i  made a dumb mistake but my eyesight is fine “ he snorted shaking his head nat previous statement . 

“ so you didn’t ghost me ?” she blinked up slightly  still trying to piece the new information slightly relieved since lets be real being ghosted is never fun . 

“ i didn’t ghost you be a fool to  ,  if  your in a forgiving mood since i cleared it up would you maybe wanna go on another date ?” he stood not the usually confident or cocky way he was used to he was almost shy when asking a definite new feeling that he would ( would not ) out loud . 

“ i guess since you got me a week and half off work i could least do that “ biting her lip , wanting to kick herself at the urge to twirl her hair in her finger like some smitten school girl . 

“Well then lets get going “ he winked wrapping his arm around her only for the same group of guys from before walking by looking barely 16 . 

“ dude kiss her “ one  not so hushed whisper yell  . 

“  man i was gonna ask her out” another whined. 

“ y’all watching this whole time ?” she snorted while jake was looking like the cat that got the cream having her at his side . 

“ tiktok was done … if things don’t work out with old man  heres my number” the guy winked as jake took the piece of paper instead . 

“She wont need it son “ was all jake could say leading her back towards the shop , back where his truck was least if her brother was doing him the solid he could have a small drive thru  date . he was new to it all actually wanting to see the one person actively and exclusive ( not that he told her , he wasn’t bradshaw ) but he was willing to show it in future .  He also learned never to doubt nat and her matching making skills again well how could he went he was going to be wearing the visual proof .

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

I have a request! If you’re comfortable? No one else will :(

Okay so you and Daryl are just settling in Alexandria, Daryl is very sexually frustrated but he doesn’t say anything, thinking he’s ridiculous.

Eventually one night the two of you are just relaxing or something, maybe you have your hand on his thigh or you kiss him innocently and he really tries to hide how turned on he is just from that.

There’s no sex because before you know it, you’re both kissing and Daryl is humping against the couch or your leg and he finishes way too soon.

Sorry it’s so long but pleeeeeease 🩷🩷

Wound Up

Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin.

Pairing: Daryl x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Mild, non explicit smut. Light angst/tension. Humping!

A/N: Hi Anon, thanks for this request, I am sorry it's taken me SO long. I'm sure you could find another author to do it more justice than I can, but here you are! I am on a mad catch up, and this was edited quite quickly so if you notice any errors please yell at me but politely and with a tone that implies you're not mad at me because I am a millennial who already assumed you are.

-

It's been weeks. Which in the grand scheme of things is hardly any time at all, especially considering how long he has been able to go without affection in his life. But without her specifically? Without her, mere minutes feel like a lifetime. Which is all a poetic way of saying Daryl is absolutely dying to be inside her. Frustrated doesn’t begin to cover it, if they’d have had walls for the past few weeks he’d have been climbing them. He’s only avoided climbing the walls they currently have because he’s been too damn busy.

Pining isn’t the word he’d use, if he’s honest with himself, though he has been basically drooling over her since the moment they first spoke and if anyone catches him staring, longing even, at her whilst they build walls and hold meetings and settle in, well that’s just unfortunate timing and they should mind their own business. The word he’d use is…yearning, which is a synonym for pining he supposes so yes, okay if anyone absolutely needs to know it’s pining.

He hadn’t been comfortable with sex before her, sure there’d been a few trysts and one-night stands (mostly at Merel’s insistence). Those were different though, hurried and anonymous and awkward as all hell. She changed everything. She had waited patiently, but openly for him to be ready, had never made a secret of what or who she wanted, and he still finds it hard to believe, after all this time, that its him. She’d snapped a coil inside of him he didn’t realise had been tightly wound, and once he’d gotten past his shy, unsure learning, once he stopped doubting that she wanted him, he’d practically devoured her whole at every given opportunity. He’d never been so sated in his life.

But there’s so many other things to worry about now, and it’s not like they could have done it on the road even if they weren’t dehydrated and starving. Weeks.

He almost ravaged her in the kitchen when she came downstairs dressed for Deanna’s welcome party, but she’d been so excited to go that he couldn’t stand to ruin it, instead kissing her deeply and telling her how beautiful she was. He should have attended, in hindsight, maybe he could have snuck off to a closet or a room somewhere like they used to on runs. And its not that spaghetti at Aarons place is bad, really its not, the food is delicious and the company, though hard for him, is easier than it is from others, but Aaron keeps asking questions about his wife, and every time he hears her name he physically has to bite back a groan.

Has never really been one for touching himself, he always feels guilty afterwards and it’s not really the relief he’s craving so much as her. Someone should tell his dick that though, because he’s been half hard for most of the goddamn day.

It takes him ten, maybe fifteen minutes if he’d counted, to go from faux nonchalance to full blown hormone raging teenage style lust. She’s returned from the party a little after midnight, stripped off her ‘too tight’ dress and burrowed herself into one of his large t-shirts and a clean pair of underwear. It would alarm Merle that he found this sexier, for all of his older brothers interest in bimbo style clothing and makeup clad bar dwellers, Daryl finds himself the most attracted to her like this. He tells her as much as they lay intertwined on the sofa, with her thigh slotted between his as they chatter about their evenings.

He's fine, he’s totally fine and he’s definitely coming across like he’s fine. She’s definitely not concerned enough to touch her hand to his cheek, ask if he’s alright before kissing him gently. He shatters, lowering his mouth to her neck to taste her.

He can’t help himself, really he can’t, hips thrusting with every delicious scratch of her nails through his hair. He hasn’t formed a single word in minutes, entire conversation cut down to contented sighs and frustrated groans. He’s too gone to stop himself by the time he hears her sharp intake of breath, hips speeding up as he grinds the hard length of himself against her upper thigh.

He’s not just a considerate lover, he’s agonisingly thorough, has never once finished without getting her there first. But now? He’s needy, he’s desperate.

“Slow down, Honey”

Her voice is floating, far away and upstream and coming at him from somewhere with no concept of time or space; he takes in the warmth of it, the affection laced tone he’s so used to but he couldn’t recall what she’s said if he needed to under threat of death.

“Missed ya” he grumbles against her neck, voice drifting away to catch hers “missed ya s’much”

He’s loosely aware that he’s still in his jeans, they’re too tight and not tight enough and her hands are tugging the hair he’d washed earlier so he finds he doesn’t care. Hips jerking, grinding into her so he doesn’t have to pull away even an inch. Delicious friction. His whole body is on fire, lost in her. He’ll be embarrassed by this later, but now he cares for nothing beyond the tight grip he has around her body and the soft moans he can hear in his ear as his thigh grinds between her legs.

He sucks a bruising kiss against her neck, feels the wet patch against his leg grow larger, hears the moans deepen. Eyes glazed and jaw agape, letting out whines and grunts and groans he doesn’t even realise he’s making. Drowning in the smell of her, the warmth of her body and the tangy taste of dried sweat as his mouths her collarbone.

She leans in a little more, grazing the bulge in his pants as she runs a hand through his now clean hair. She’s missed this as much as he had. She hadn’t wanted to push, he’d been exhausted and anxious, eyes flitting around for signs of trouble but she opens her eyes in time to see his come undone, cock pulsing heavily as he ruts and ruts and ruts against her thigh before stilling.

“Fuck ‘m sorry” he huffs against her, hot breath fanning out over close skin. He finally opens his eyes, feels his own lopsided grin as he takes her in, pupils blown wide as he fingers grip the taut muscles of his arm.

“It’s alright” she smiles, and he’s not having that, is not going to let himself off the hook like she’s intending to, not ever but especially not when he can feel heat radiating against his leg, not when she’s looking at him like he’s dinner. He’s a considerate lover, agonisingly slow and thorough, but now? When he can see she’s needy and desperate. Now the fog in his brain is clearer?

He trails his hands down her body, smirking as she shivers. Safe, warm fingertips find their way to the waistline of her underwear.

“Le’me make it up t’ ya”

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow. You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.” “Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?” You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” [Or after a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.]

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles.

Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes. Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this . . . uh . . . like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ears. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum ring. Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found.

The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh . . . well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says.  “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to do that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology.  (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means.  “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now.?

“Yeah . . . ?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“ . . . Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting.

He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns.

You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair.  His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs.Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle.

Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic. You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus.

You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date.

Although . . . those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA.

The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears.

The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment. Just . . . a small . . . single moment.

 . . . On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

Huh? The feather on your hair preens. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light.  You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That . . . that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ “Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management.  You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “ . . .Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The . . . uh . . . the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are . . . difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve . . . almost . . . almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.”  You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such . . . er . . .interesting decorations around. . . . May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well . . .we . . . we certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me . . . and . . . hmm.” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes,” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor . . . I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh . . .There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

[thanksbutno98]

Mending Bridges

John Price x fem!reader

Authors note: Angst has rolled in and helped me finish the piece. Thought I’d keep it as real and personal as possible. I tried to make this as long as possible because I felt guilty taking a week off. This covers about three or four seperate requests I’ve gotten for angst so I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Captain John Price is severely injured while deployed. Once at home in the care of his wife, family seems to always be his biggest stressor.

Warning: body shaming, sexual themes, toxic in-laws, slut shaming, mentions of child birth, mentions of hysterectomy, new born, low self esteem, injuries, blood, violence, not edited.

——————

The house was dark as Jj and Evelyn walked through the threshold of the front door. Floorboards creaked under their weight as they took in the dreary state of their home. The lamp in the living room that was always on was not sitting in its normal spot. In fact something felt off about the house. The living room couch was pushed a foot forward and things in the foyer had been moved around haphazardly. Normally their home smelled like your sweet candles and you had music lightly playing but tonight the house was devoid of smell and sound. It felt as if their home had been abandoned. Seeing things change so drastically in less than a day was alarming to both children.

Late last night you had woken Jj and Evelyn up from bed in a rush. Telling them Uncle Harrison and Auntie Amy were there to pick them up to have a sleep over. Both Jj and Evelyn were confused because they knew their aunt and uncle lived in separate flats. Evelyn cried as you helped pack her overnight bag and Jj was was shaking with anxiety even if he pretend he was okay. To be woken up and ushered to their aunts apartment was strange and scary. Jj barley slept being kept awake by his Uncles loud snoring on the couch adjacent from where the young boy laid.

Now walking into the place they called home and it feeling off made them feel even worse. Standing by the front door they both felt like strangers in their own home. That’s when they saw you quickly yet quietly shuffle down the stairs. You looked tired and your eyes were swollen. Evelyn immediately thought you were sick and Jj became queasy.

“Thank you, Harrison. I need you two to sit on the couch.” You motioned for your children to go sit on the large L shaped couch.

“You need me to stay?” Harrison asked. He could see you had been crying and knew the stress you were under must be suffocating.

“No, you’ve done more than enough.” You smiled weakly.

“Sarah still here?” Harrison asked wondering if his youngest sibling was still here supporting you.

“Yeah, she’s upstairs with John. It’s nice to have a nurse in the family.” You mumbled.

“If you need anything, call. You don’t have to do this all alone.” Without warning Harrison brought you into a vice grip of a hug. You knew he was trying to be strong for your sake and you were grateful for that. You were hanging on by a thread and the whole Price family knew it.

“Mummy, I’m sacred.” Evelyns voice was shaky as you gave Harrison a hug goodbye.

“It’s okay, let’s sit on the couch and have a chat.” With no hesitation you hoisted your daughter into your arms and she wrapped herself around you. Jj was already sitting on the couch patiently. Harrison said a final goodbye before the front door clicked shut behind him.

Placing Evelyn down next to Jj on the sofa you sat on the coffee table in front of them. They were staring at you the fear and uncertainty evident in their young faces. Jj looked so much like John it hurt and Evelyns shade of blue eyes was the same as John’s making you feel like he was somehow sitting in front of you. With a shaky breath you told you children the truth.

“Your father had an accident at work and he’s hurt really bad. It’s going to be different for awhile while he gets better.” The words tasted putrid as if you sunk your teeth into rotting fruit. You wanted to throw up, scream and cry seeing the stunned looks on your children’s faces. Evelyn was speechless for the first time in her life, not fully understanding what you were saying.

“We need to let him rest. That means we can’t cuddle or hug him until he’s healthy.” You knew it was going to be hard for your children to abstain from touching John. You two joked he was their own personal jungle gym with how they loved to jumped and climbed all over him. Piggyback rides and rough housing would have to be a thing of the past.

“Where is he?” Evelyn was quick to ask.

“He’s upstairs in bed. Auntie Sarah and Uncle Grayson helped me get him settled while you had your sleep over. Did you two have fun?” You tried to check in to see how things had gone. Only now realizing you had forgotten to ask Harrison how things went because you were so caught up in your worries for John’s health.

“Can I say hi?” Evelyn asked ignoring your question. She was sitting on the edge of her seat hiccuping back tears.

“No, I’m sorry Evie. Your father needs to rest. We can say hi in the morning if he’s up for it.” You hated telling her no in this moment. Knowing exactly how she was feeling, filled with anxiety and just wanting the comfort John so easily provided.

“Are you not sleeping with him?” Jj’s question was quiet as he stared at you unblinking. He seemed angry like he was holding back the storm that was brewing within himself.

“I’m going to be sleeping on the floor right next to him. I have an air mattress. He will need help getting up to go to the bathroom and won’t be walking by himself for awhile.” These details were important for you to share so hopefully your children listened about letting John heal.

“What happened?” Jj asked. This was the part you were dreading the most. Telling your children the extent of John’s injuries and the reason why he was hurt.

“Your father was trying to keep some people safe and got hurt in the process. I need you both to look at me when I say this. He is going to be okay.” You paused taking a breath before you spoke again.

“But he took a hard fall. His leg is broken and he’s all bruised and cut up. It might be scary and upsetting when you see him in the morning.” Mustering up all your strength you held back your emotion.

“Did he get shot?” Jj asked straight faced.

“Jj, I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go into de-“

“Did he get shot!” Jj was standing as he shouted the words at you. Tears rolling down his face and fists clenched. You could only stare back at him the words caught in your throat, fighting back your own tears.

Jj started crying harder, loud and pained sobs tearing their way out of his little chest. His fists moving to clutch his t-shirt as if his chest was hurting and it was. It felt suffocating for the little boy to come to the realization his dad wasn’t invincible. Jj couldn’t cope he could hardly think as he broke down. You had never seen him like this, crying so hard he turned and threw up on the floor. With gentle hand you took Jj by his hand and guided him forward. Jj collapsed in your arms crying hysterically both of you ignoring the mess on the floor. The little boy let out broken sobs and choked out gasps as he fought for air.

“Mummy.” Jj sobbed into your shoulder as his hands griped your shirt, accidentally pinching your skin. He continued to cry out for you as if begging you to take this feeling away. To make it stop hurting and it broke your heart.

Evelyn was having trouble understanding why Jj was so upset. She knew her dad would be okay, you said he would. The concept of John being hurt wasn’t registering for her but seeing her brother so upset scared her. Evelyn moved to join you two and the three of you huddled together and you let your children cry until they had no tears left. After awhile you ended up carrying both children one by one up to their beds. You realized this might be the last time you ever picked up your little boy. Evelyn asked to sleep in Jj’s room and he was okay with it. Helping you pull out the trundle bed and get Evelyn set up with her blanket and stuffed animals. You stayed with them until they had fallen asleep and quietly made your way out of the room.

Light crying started to come from your new addition to the families room. Quickly you shuffled in and picked up your four month old. Bouncing her lightly she settled down and was fast asleep in no time. You thanked your lucky stars she was such an easy and happy baby. You laid her back in her crib and sat down in the rocking chair. You quietly cried for only a moment and then shook all the sadness away. You didn’t have time to feel all these horrible feelings you needed to go check on John and clean the mess on the living room floor.

——————

“Pass me a blue marker.” Evelyn stuck her hand out waiting for Jj to do as she said.

“You should say please.” Jj mumbled. Tongue peaking out as he scribbled away on his piece of construction paper.

“Pass me a blue marker, now.” Evelyn giggled out causing Jj to snicker at her normal antics.

The two Price children were laying on Evelyns bedroom floor with her art supplies strewn all around them. They had both decided when they woke up to make their father get well soon cards. They also wanted to take their stash of candy and put it in a shoe box and wrap it in the old Christmas wrapping paper they found in the basement.

They had tried to see John but you were quick to tell them he was sleeping and you would bring them in as soon as he had woken up. You had busied yourself with cleaning and making the family breakfast with a baby on your hip. By the time everyone was fed and Lily was down for a nap you prepared yourself for your children to see John. Reminding them that their father was in bad shape and it was okay to be upset when they saw him.

Evelyn and Jj stood shoulder to shoulder outside your bedroom door. Jj had his card and a poorly wrapped package while Evelyn held a flower she picked from your garden, card, and then something else she had hidden behind her back. You didn’t bother asking what it was, you had too much on your mind. It made your heart ache lessen seeing your children prepare gifts for John without you asking them to do so.

Slowly you peaked your head into the room to check John was ready, which he was. Opening the door you allowed your children to make their way into the room. You knew the sight of John would have both your children in tears or stunned silence. It was something they had never seen and you unfortunately had too many times.

Stepping into the room you watched the box Jj was holding fall to the ground with a thud and Evelyns hands drop by her sides no longer attempting to hide the nip of whiskey she stole from John’s desk. This was an earth shattering moment for your children. Something they would never forget and think about for years to come.

John was laying in bed shirtless pillows underneath his head and shoulders so he was propped up at a 45 degree angle. There were thick white bandages wrapped tightly around his rib cage. A bandage covering his left shoulder entirely that went down to his elbow, that was where he had gotten shot. The bullet had gone straight through which meant he did not need surgery, in fact he was lucky. You weren’t to sure how lucky he was when the doctor told you that. There were faded splotches of brown deep within the coverings. You would need to change them after your children were out of the room.

The grey sweatpants John wore were baggier than usual showing how much weight he had lost along with muscle tone. One pant leg was rolled up to his left knee and a white cast was fashioned over his shin and covered his foot, his toes still being visible. The bruises that littered his body were dark and set in. The edges just beginning to turn green as they started to heal.

John had a cotton patch covering his right eye leaving his vision impaired. He had hit his face as he fell out of the helicopter then landing badly broke his leg on impact. Gaz helped John hobble to safety where a firefight ensued and John was shot. Gaz told you he thought he was dead at first because John passed out from pain. They were lucky the med evac was able to get to them and Gaz kept his promise to you; keeping John safe.

“Gotten taller Jj. And look at you Evie, the haircut suits you.” John’s voice was strained as he turned his head towards his children. Unable to move his body without being in immense pain he gave both his children his most confident smile. It faltered from how much pain he was in but he was doing his best to hide it.

Evelyn tore out of the room sprinting down the stairs. The flower, card, and nip of whiskey clattering to the floor in her wake. You watched John’s grey eyes flash with sadness. Being so physically hurt and to now be dealing with the emotional stress was not what he needed. You told him it was too soon for the kids to see him. You had contemplated having your children stay with family until John was in better shape but he broke down at the mention of it. Telling you he needed his family there to remind himself why he does what he does.

“Daddy, can I sit on the bed with you?” Jj was trembling as he asked. Taking a moment to pick up the small shoe box wrapped in Christmas warping paper and all of Evelyns things. Jj hadn’t called you ‘mummy’ or John ‘daddy’ for over three years now. To hear him regressing had you turning in the doorway in attempt to gather yourself.

“‘Course you can.” John patted the bed lightly beaconing his son to come join him. John watched as you hid your face from Jj in an attempt for him to not see you cry. You had been hiding away to cry so John wouldn’t feel guilty but he begged you not to. It hurt more to see the way your shoulders shook as you held back sobs; trying to be strong for your children and him. John would give anything in the world to take away the pain his family was feeling. No amount of physical injuries compared to seeing his daughter run away at the sight of him or have his son calling him ‘daddy’ again.

“I’m going to go check on Evie.” You quickly excused yourself. Voice cracking and cheeks rosy.

“We made you this.” With shaky hands Jj placed everything on the bed as he slowly sat himself by his fathers side. Trying not to move the mattress and cause his father pain.

“Could you open the cards and read them to me?” John asked quietly. He wasn’t able to lift his arm high enough to read them himself and with one eye covered he wasn’t sure if attempting to read would give him another migraine. Jj nodded, lips fixed in a firm frown.

“D-dear daddy, I hope you feel better soon. Mummy put me in rock climbing classes and I can’t wait to show you how cool it is. Love, Evie. P.S. what does P.S. stand for? Anyway I want you to have all my candy.” Jj paused for a second, avoiding his fathers gaze.

It was obvious through her letter she did not expect her father to be bed ridden. The injuries far beyond what the seven year old thought imaginable.

“She drew a bunch of hearts and a picture of her rock climbing. That’s you watching her.” Jj held up the card so John could see the cute drawing his daughter had done for him. The drawing of him fashioned with his signature bucket hat and a cigar in his mouth, she even drew his muttonchops.

“She’s always been quite the artist. Let me hear yours.” John chuckled very lightly then immediately wincing and coughing violently. He couldn’t even laugh lightly without his shoulder and ribs hurting. Coughing had his whole body setting ablaze as pain racked through him. It took all of John not to start cursing and groaning in pain so his son wouldn’t worry anymore than he already was.

“Um, no it’s okay. You can read it when you’re better.” Jj tried to avoid reading his card out loud. A wave of insecurity crashing over him.

“Please J, it would make me feel better.” John watched as tears dropped onto the blue construction paper from Jj’s matching eyes, his sons head hung low. The front was crudely decorated with a drawing of a medal that said ‘#1 dad.’ Jj took a breath before he spoke. His his hands begging to shake as he opened the card.

“Dear dad, You have to get better soon because you’re my hero. Mum, Evie, and Lily really need you. Love, Jj.” The tears came fast as Jj began to crying into his palms; the card falling to the soft bedsheets.

“I’m sorry dad, I-I know I shouldn’t c-ry.” The words came out broken and strained as Jj cried uncontrollably. Hiccups straining from his sore throat.

John’s chest tightened and all the air left his lungs, he was at a loss for words. It felt like an elephant had just sat on his chest. Seeing his little boy like this and hearing his card broke something in John. How could he live up to being the hero his son saw him as? Writing how his sisters and you needed him but leaving himself out so John wouldn’t worry about him.

Jj attempted to take deep breaths to calm himself down. Then almost completely stopping his crying as he finally looked up at his fathers face.

For the first time in Jj’s life he watched as his dad cried. Silent tears rolling down Johns cheek and dripping off his hairy bruised jaw and onto the bandages. Maybe you were right and John could have waited to see his children. Instead of putting them through this and traumatizing them. The guilt that consumed John had his stomach turning and heart heavy.

“I’ll get better as fast as I can so I can take care of all of you.” With his good hand John slowly rubbed the tears away, sniffling as he did so. Jj watched in awe as his father seamlessly gathered himself and was back to his normal stoic self as if he hadn’t just shed a few tears.

“We, have candy for you.” Jj quickly grabbed the box and showed it to John. Doing anything in his power to make his dad feel better. It was easier for the boys to move to the next subject than to talk about their emotional display. John didn’t know but he had just taught his son it was okay to cry because even someone as strong and manly as John wasn’t embarrassed to do so.

“Open it up. I could go for a piece of taffy right about now.” John said attempting to be light hearted. Jj finally smiled lightly as he tore the wrapping paper off and searched the box of candy for taffy and a Milky Way for himself.

——————

“Evie, come down. I know you’re up there.” You were standing at the edge of the woods behind your family home. You had to walk around the chicken coop to get over there which was bit of a headache since you were in bare feet. John had built a tree house for Evelyn and Jj over the last summer while you were pregnant and it had become the little girls safe place. That being said it was always a troop to walk out here and get her.

The tree house was painted maroon with a deep green roof. There were three windows on each side with the front facing one having a little flower box. It was filled with actions figures and toy soldiers with their guns and weapons drawn. They were placed there to keep intruders out. Painted in white at the bottom of the tree house was ‘Grownups Beware!’ You and John chuckled that the kids had added that and decided to not encroach on their space. Leaving this the only area untouched by adults.

“No.” She said in a bratty tone. Evelyn could be a handful most times and was known for either being sweet as pie or grumpy. There was hardly an in between but when she was sad or upset she tended to act out. With a sigh you walked over to the tree that housed the sturdy structure. Peering up through the open hatch you tried to see if your daughter would come down.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to come up.” You warned, getting no response.

The only sound being the lively insects chirping and the birds singing deep in the woods. Looking around you admired the forest around you. The foliage was thick creating a canopy of shade and keeping the hot sun at bay. The forest floor was slightly damp, small flowers just beginning to pop up out of the earth. You turned to look back at your house in the distance and then over to the pond that was barley visible through the trees. Moving you started your climb up the wooden planks John had nailed into the tree to make a ladder.

Peaking your head through the square hatch you saw your ponytailed girl. She was huddled up against the wall right underneath the window. She had her stuffed octopus hugged tight to her chest.

The inside of the tree house was decorated with stickers and pictures Evelyn took on her Polaroid she got last Christmas. There were pillows and blankets neatly folded by Jj in the corner on top of the old worn chest. A table with art supplies and a lantern sat to Evelyns left, the chairs tipped over and laying on their sides. John had decked the place out even installing shutters so if it rained they could shut them and keep the rain out. The ceiling was covered in glow in the dark stars.

“How are you doing?” You asked sitting on the floor and letting your feet dangle through the opening.

“Daddy’s faking it right?” Evelyns bottom lip quivered already knowing the answer. Wipping her eyes with the back of her hands pretending like she wasn’t crying.

“No, he’s not, sweetheart.” You reach out for her and she crawled over curling up into your side. You hugged her close resting your chin atop her head.

“Did someone beat him up? I thought Ghosty would protect him or Suds and Gaz.” Her watery blue eyes looked up at your for answers. It was hard for you to see your daughter like this. Not quite old enough to understand what was going on like Jj was. You just prayed you weren’t fucking up as a mom.

“No one beat him up. He fell out of a helicopter.” You told her the truth hoping it wasn’t too much.

“Then he shouldn’t go in heli’s ever again.” The tears stopped and Evelyns mind was made up. You could see the flash of determination igniting in her eyes. She’d be damned if her father ever got into a helicopter again.

“You know, I agree with you. But we can’t stop him from doing his job.” You tried to reason rubbing her back hoping she wouldn’t give John too much trouble.

“I don’t like his job anymore.” She pouted, crossing her arms over her chest.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I bet he’d be okay talking to you about it.” You let her know. It was something you and John had already discussed. John didn’t want you to have to answer for his choices and decision to be in the military. It was his duty as their father and your husband to be acountable for his profession and what I would do to your family.

“Really?” Evelyn perked up now intrigued this wasn’t an off limits conversation.

“I talk to him about it all the time when you two aren’t around. He knows how much it scares me but after we talk about it I end up feeling a lot better.” For first time in the past few days the truth didn’t taste acrid on your tongue. It was a relief to be able to share some positive things with your daughter.

“Do you think I can talk to him now?” Evelyn asked, grabbing her stuffed octopus and turning the the little tile on the wall to show she was the last one in there. There was a blue side for Jj and an orange one for her.

“Yes, I’ll give you a piggy back ride to the house.” Your words had Evelyn nodding and a smile finally spreading across her face.

“Could Jj feed the chickens today? I’ll take Molly for a walk instead.” She asked as she began to climb down the ladder.

“You’re going to have to ask Jj.” You laughed lightly. Knowing Evelyn only asked right now hoping you’d slip up and say ‘yes’ because you were preoccupied. She giggled at your words clearly noticing she hadn’t outsmarted you. Maybe one day.

——————

“But I don’t want to feed the chickens.”

“Evelyn, don’t argue with your mother.” John’s deep and commanding voice came from your bedroom.

Evelyn jumped slightly not expecting to be scolded by her father, who she thought was out of ear shot. You and her were standing in Lily’s room while you changed your five month olds diaper. John had become bored of television and books resorting to ease dropping for entertainment.

“Run along Evie, I have to feed Lily and get things ready for your Nan and Grandad to come over.” You nodded your head towards the door, following behind as you both went to do your chores. It had been four days since Jj and Evelyn first saw their dad in bad shape. Things seemed to have become okay in the house as everyone except John fell back into their normal routine.

“Nan better be nice to you.” Evelyn warned as she ran down the hall then to the stairs. The little girl threw her leg over the banister and slid down to the first floor.

“Evelyn! How many times do I have to say not to slide down the railing.” You half shouted.

“STOP GIVING YOUR MUM A HARD TIME!” John’s voiced boomed through the house making you jump slightly. A squeal of surprise echoed up the stairs. Evelyn hadn’t been yelled at by her father since he had gotten home and was not about to stick around for another scolding.

“John, settle down. You need to rest.” You sighed out completely exasperated at his strong reaction. You walked into the room to see him fidgeting with his overgrown beard.

“I’m bloody tired of resting. I need to get out of this damn room and have some fresh air.” John attempted to get up from his spot on the bed. Only to groan out in pain and sink back into the mattress. His good hand coming and cradling his shoulder where his worst injury was.

“I’ll open the windows.” You we’re glaring at your husband for trying to get up on his own.

“Fuck the windows help me downstairs.” It came off as an order which you weren’t to keen on. Stopping in front of John and raising your eyebrows at him as if to challenge him to continue being grumpy.

“Weren’t you just yelling at Evie to not give me a hard time? Take your own advice.” John sighed deeply at your words. You were right.

“Sorry. . . I’m going stir crazy and the idea of seeing my mother today is driving me mad. Im stressed she’s going to be rude about Lily.” The stress that washed over John was palpable. The pair of you were dreading Mary coming over. The two of you hadn’t seen her since Christmas but when she found out John had been injured she begged to come check on him. You were both weary but John did want to see his mother and hopefully bury the hatchet. And you understood a mothers love well enough that you were okay with Mary coming to check on her son.

“Well she’s the spitting image of you so there’s not much she can say.” You reasoned trying to quell John’s anxieties. Coming over and standing next to him so he could hold his little girls chubby hand.

“Never thought if Lily looked like me she’d end up pretty. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Right, peanut?” John gave the little girl a goofy face making her round cheeks turn up in a smile. A hearty and gruff laugh left your husbands parted lips. John’s children held the key to cheering him up and you adored that about him.

“You are a cutie aren’t you.” You cooed at your baby girl poking her chubby belly a chorus of giggles erupting from her.

“Let me hold her.” John was smiling widely as he reached his good arm out for his youngest daughter. Just like when she was born John wanted her to sleep on his chest. It was tradition at this point, all your children loved to nap on John but Lily especially did.

“No, John she’s going to pull at your bandages or hurt you and I need to breast feed.” You kissed John’s forehead, then walked away ignoring the frown he was giving you.

“Darling, how much longer are you going to treat me like an invalid.” John’s bad mood was back just as quickly as it had gone.

“Until you can get up and go to the bathroom without my help. You can’t even get out of bed or off the toilet without me. Think I’m going to trust you holding our baby?” You smiled sweetly. Making your way into the bathroom to grab a hand towel to use while you breast fed Lily.

“Bloody tyrant.” John grumbled to himself. He could hobble around just fine he just couldn’t get up on his feet without help in fear of tearing open his stitches.

John wasn’t actually frustrated with you he was annoyed at being incapable of spending quality time with his kids. The only good thing to happen in the past five days of being home was he could finally take the eye patch off after a home visit from his doctor. Well not the only good thing. Jj had been playing chess with John every day, you lost at scrabble last night, and Evelyn put on a play for him about helicopter safety. Which was mainly her making him promise to wear a seatbelt. So it wasn’t all bad.

“Sorry, didn’t quite hear you.” You whipped around and walked back into the room. John froze instantly regretting being curt with you.

“Sorry.” John apologized instantly.

Being on your bad side while he was bed ridden was not a smart move. You could easily ‘forget’ to bring him lunch or straight up ignore him. John would be screwed if you lost your kindness because he pissed you off. He should be thanking his lucky stars you were so sweet taking into account how grumpy he had been. Especially considering how kind you were the previous night giving him a show and settling your head between his thighs giving him some much needed stress relief and adult entertainment.

“That’s what I thought. And if I’m a tyrant I learned it from you.” You volleyed back. Ignoring how John rolled his eyes at you. No wonder the kids gave you such a hard time when their father could be such a smart ass.

“Mum! Grandad and Nan just pulled up!” Jj called from the front door. You had already pulled yourself free and gave your daughter what she had begun to fuss for.

Jj had just come in after taking Molly your tri-colored Border Collie for a walk. You and John had gotten her because when you originally moved in you wanted lambs and you needed a cattle dog for that. After becoming pregnant you two continued to put it off until Evelyn was two. Molly proved to be horrible at herding so you gave up on your dream of having lambs and settled for chickens.

Molly was the sweetest girl who loved to cuddle but was incredibly clumsy and a bit dumb. It made you and John laugh, her quirks only had you loving her more. She was truly Jj’s dog, sleeping in his room every night since he was four. They were the best of friends and she tended to follow him around where ever he went. Only leaving his side when there was food or a chipmunk to chase. She would wait on the front porch for Evelyn and Jj’s bus to drop them off and then she would sprint to him, greeting him after school. She also would book it to the pond if you weren’t paying attention which ended up in you having to hose her and Jj off because he’d have to pull her out of the water. John had trained Molly well enough that she listened to basic commands and could be off leash most times but she was unruly and unpredictable.

Jj was overly protective of Molly. Hating when his grandparents complained that she would beg for food or claiming she was too dumb to herd. You and John would rebut saying she was great at keeping the kids close by which she did. She was so sweet when Evelyn would try and run off. Standing by her and letting the little girl tug on her fur and guiding her back when she went too far.

Jj knew his dad grew up with a slew of dogs and that his grandad prided himself on them being amazingly trained. Molly just wanted to be loved and you all didn’t care about her quirks it was just more of a reason to love her. Jj was dreading seeing his grand parent for so many reasons. He knew his Nan would comment about Molly which he was use to but what scared him was her comments about Lily.

Jj stood up for Evelyn every chance he had. Since they went to the same school it had become normalcy for the Price children. Something changed for Jj when Lily was born. He was annoyed to have a new sibling but after seeing you in such horrible pain and scared out of your mind things changed.

When Jj held Lily for the first time in the hospital room he knew he’d love her forever. A picture of them being snapped as he told you he was so happy to have another little sister and wished John could be there. The knowledge that his Nan was not allowed to meet her making him even more protective over his baby sister. John saw how much his son took after him. The need to protect and provide in his sons genes just like his own. John hated to admit that Jj was turning out just like him and would most likely follow his path into the military.

“Look at you! So tall, little lad.” Paul, John’s father praised as he held the back door open for his wife Mary.

“Jj, you’re tall just like Johnny was at your age!” Mary pushed past her husband and quickly wrapped Jj up in a tight hug. Molly was quick to jump up on Paul and tried to do the same to Mary.

“Johnny needs to train her better. So she shouldn’t jump.” Paul pushed the dog off his wife. Reprimanding her and attempting a command she didn’t know.

“She’s fine.” Jj mumbled calling for Molly to follow him to the fridge so he could give her some cheese. Wiping the lipstick smudge off his cheek that his grandmother had left.

“Hey, you two. It’s been awhile.” Your sweet voice hung in the air like smog. Jj was stressed and the feeling quickly subsided as Molly weaved her way between his legs and sat down. Pushing him back a few inches begging him to give her attention.

“Y/N.” Mary said curtly looking past you as if you didn’t exist.

“You look healthy, love.” Paul ignored Mary’s rudeness and hugged you firmly, holding on for a second too long. You could tell he missed you and was stressed about seeing his son wounded and bed ridden.

“Wheres Evie?” Mary half forced herself between you and Paul. Tugging his arm so he would stop greeting you and being pleasant.

“Probably in the tree house.” You stated with a smile undeserving of Mary.

“You’re not going to have her say hello?” Mary was in normal form questioning your choices as a mother. You were happy John had somehow convinced you to leave Lily upstairs with him.

“Evie doesn’t want to say hello and that should be okay.” Jj’s voice cut through the conversation. He repeated the same words you had said to your husband the previous night while him and Jj played chess.

“Jj don’t be rude.” You quickly scolded.

“But sh-“

“Doesn’t matter. Apologize to your Nan. That’s not how we talk.” Even if Mary was a piece of work you still did not accept your son being rude to anyone. There was no need to be bratty in an attempt to defend you. You were a grown woman capable handling this on your own.

“No.” Jj wasn’t normally defiant but he was insanely upset at his grandmother and booked it out the back door going to join his sister in the tree house.

Jj had heard his grandmother call you a ‘slag’ multiple times but didn’t know what the word meant until recently. He had no room for forgiveness and he didn’t understand how you did. Especially because he overheard you tell John about the nasty texts and voicemails she left after Christmas. The word ‘bastard’ being used which seemed to upset his father the most. Jj didn’t know what the word meant, only that it was a bad one.

“I wish I could say I ‘don’t know whats gotten into him.’ But I think we all get it. They’re still very upset about Christmas.” You explained only to get a obnoxious eye roll from Mary. God, you wanted to throttle her and kick her out but you didn’t for the sake of your husband.

“I’m only here to see Johnny.” It was easy for Mary to ignore your sweet nature. She was convinced it was all a facade and you were a ‘manipulative, disloyal, slag’. As she wrote in one of her texts.

“Okay, follow me.” You said in a sickly sweet voice that you all knew was fake. You weren’t going to give Mary a scrap of ammunition or anything to complain about.

“The weight after the third is hard to get rid of isn’t it?” Mary’s words were snarky and mean.

You instantly felt your cheeks begin to burn from embarrassment. So what, you had gained a bit of weight you just had a baby four months ago. John seemed to love it, worshiping the stretch marks and leaving gentle kisses on your stomach and thighs. When you complained about it he told you there was more of you to love. Which made you cross for only a moment. John was quick to remind you how beautiful he found you and thanked you for making him a father.

You already felt self conscious enough having just had your third child. Mary knew no detail of how traumatizing and brutal the birth was and you held back all the rage you had for her and kept quiet. Leading her and Paul up to your bedroom as Paul scolded Mary to behave and then told you, you looked beautiful and John was a lucky man.

The only reason you did not freak out and tell Mary how horrible she was, was for the sake of Lily who was happily napping on John’s chest upstairs. She had passed out as soon as she was done breast feeding. Lily was a daddy’s girl the moment she came into this world. Only settling down to the sound of John’s deep and gruff voice. She never stirred when he yelled and slept the best in his arms. John had to send a recording of his gentle words and cooed to his baby to help her fall asleep while he was away. Her fussy nature subsided immediately when John came home when she was five days old.

“John, you look like shit” Paul used humor to cope as he saw his son laid up in bed. It pained John’s parents to see him in such bad shape. A reminder their son was risking his life on a normal basis. Leg raises in a cast and shoulder and chest wrapped in thick bandages. The bruises that littered his body were beginning to heal. It looked like he had gotten hit by a bus.

“And this is?” Mary asked with tears in her eyes. Lily was drooling onto John’s bare chest, her cheeks rosy and thick brown hair curling around her ears. She was a pretty baby and looked exactly like John, even with her bright blue eyes closed.

“This is Lily.” John said simply, eyes fixed on his baby girl and not bothering to look at his mother. Ignoring his injuries and running his hand over her sweet snoring face, John winced at he pain of his gun shot wound.

“S-she looks just like you.” Mary choked on her words. She was so overwhelmed seeing her son like this and knowing she had a new grandchild. She felt enraged no one had told her sooner.

Mary adamantly thought you had cheated on John and she had no claim to this child. Saying horrible things and refusing to even hear the name you two had picked out. Now standing in your bedroom doorway and seeing she was clearly wrong and had ignored her grandchild for four months was sickening. Lily looked exactly like John, down to the little freckle on her nose. Mary was feeling utterly humiliated for the things she had said and the way she had treated her grand daughter. If you thought Mary would surrender and apologize you were sadly mistaken.

“I’ll take her so you three can chat.” You made your way over to John. Scooping you little one into your arms and watching as she frowned in her sleep being taken away from John.

“Can I hold her?” Mary asked. Arms already outstretched and going to take Lily from you.

“Not right now. Maybe another time.” Quickly you dodged Mary’s arms only for her to step in front of you so you couldn’t get to the door.

“And why is that?” Mary challenged. The audacity had you shocked.

“Because you don’t think she’s John’s.” The frustration was evident in your voice. You couldn’t hide the anger and disgust you had for the woman in front of you who so blatantly hated you.

“It’s clear she is.” Mary attempted to take Lily again and John watched as you flinched and stepped back.

“Then an apology is in order.” John was quick to insert. Hating how he couldn’t stand by your side and support you.

“She may happen to be yours Johnny but that does not mean Y/N is deserving of an apology. After everything you’ve done, tearing our family apart. The least you could do is let me hold my last grandchild.” The gaslighting and victim complex Mary had made you feel uneasy. Even when she was wrong her pride was to big for her to apologize to you.

“I’m going to need time before I’m comfortable with you holding her.” You stepped back again as Mary attempted to take your sleeping baby. Placing your hand protectively over the back of Lily’s head.

“You’ve married such a cruel woman.” Mary turned to John as if he’d help her get what she wanted. As if John’s loyalty to her out weighed her nasty behavior.

“Mum for the love of God stop.” John started to shout and quickly died off by the end. This was not going how he expected and he was getting angrier by the second.

“Mary, please.” Paul rested his hand on his wife’s shoulder. Everyone in the room was begging for her to settle down and drop it.

You felt intimidated and slightly scared at Mary’s quick turn on you. She had that same look in her eyes from the night she called you a slag. You weren’t someone who lived in fear or allowed people to have the kind of power over you. But after hearing the things Mary had said and how aggressive she could be in person put you on edge. With your husband held up in bed and unable to physically come to your aid had you wanting to run for the exit. It may be irrational but you feared for Lily’s safety even though you knew Mary was all bark and no bite.

“It’s just a matter of time before she gives you a bastard.” The words cut you down in one clean blow, leaving a painful ache in your chest. You have had some cruel words spat in your face by ex lovers, loved ones, strangers and people who didn’t particularly like you. This felt like the lowest blow Mary had taken and you wished she would have continued to comment on your appearance rather than your loyalty and ability to have another child.

John saw the pain in flash in your eyes. You only allowed it to be seen for a split second before you were back to being straight faced. That comment had John’s blood coursing fast and hot through his veins. He knew the hurt you were feeling was deeper than just cruel words that held little weight. You had lost so much having Lily and the possibility of you having anymore children had been snatched away from you.

John wasn’t there when they told you, in fact he missed the entire birth. But when you confided in him when he got home you were a wreck. John would never forget how you told him it was like you had part of your womanhood stolen from you. John didn’t know if his mother knew about your hysterectomy but those words were still unwelcome in his home. Especially because John knew you were still grieving over it and mostly likely would be for awhile.

“Mum I was really hoping we could start mending bridges. Clearly I was too optimistic. I think it’s time for you to go.” John was shifting up to sit up completely straight. The pain that screamed from his injuries was ignored as if they were nonexistent. John watched your eyes go wide at him moving like that, you were scared he would rip his stitches. With a simple raise of his hand you bit your tongue holding back the worried words that were clawing their way up your throat.

“You use to be strong Johnathan. But look at you now. Laid up in bed and taking orders from a woman who’s damaged goods. You’ve lost your self respect.” Mary’s words were said with so much disdain that you had never seen thrown in the direction of her youngest son.

Not only was she being cruel to you she had finally snapped and went after John. Trying to find the most backhanded way to question his manhood and shame him. She turned on her heels, her long black cardigan flowing in her haste and she left. The air was dense in your bedroom as you processed how quickly things had devolved.

“You’re okay with her acting like that?” John snapped at his father who had been almost silent up until this point.

“For better or worse. In sickness and in health.” Paul’s words were melancholic as he nodded at his son and then at you. It felt like a cope out and Paul would never truly acknowledge the disturbing side of the woman he married.

“Never thought for a second you’d be unfaithful to my boy. I’m sorry for Mary.” Paul gently placed his hand on your shoulder the other coming up to rest on Lily back.

“Lily’s a beautiful name and she looks exactly like you Johnny. . . I hope you feel better soon.” Paul’s voice cracked slightly on John’s name.

The pained expression on his aging face made you sick to your stomach. It felt like a disservice for Paul to not come to Johns defense and knowingly stay away from Lily because Mary told him so. You knew Paul loved each one of his children and would do almost anything for his family. He just couldn’t stand up to his wife. Marys wrath and opinions had caused so much strain in your and John’s marriage and it’s what ended Harrison and Amy’s. You wondered how many people have to suffer for Paul to open his eyes.

“Why don’t you stay? I can give you a ride home.” You asked. A spark of hope flickering in your chest at the idea John might be able to get Paul to come around.

“Best I get going. Don’t need Mary cross with me too.” The words were meant to be humorous but you and John worried she’d go after him verbally but it was far from your place to get involved. You turned to see the anger etched so deep in your husbands face you felt it best for you to not be apart of what he had to say to his father.

Stepping out you gave John and his father a minute alone. Choosing to put Lily down in her crib and get started on lunch. You decided the tears and hurt feelings could wait for when you showered before bed. It would only make things worse, in your opinion, if the kids or John knew how upset that last comment of Mary’s made you.

It was one thing for her to go after you, you expected that. But for her to go after John you knew would wound him greater than any of the ones that already riddled his body. His mother visiting was suppose to lift his spirits and they were going to start over so hopefully she could be apart of his children’s lives. Now, that glimmer of hope had been snuffed out and you knew John was going to struggle dealing with it. He had told you he was going to cut his mother out if things went poorly and now John was going to have to deal with that pain.

You could see Mary sitting in the cab of Paul’s black truck refusing to even glance at the house while you prepared John’s lunch. It took no longer than ten minutes before Paul gave you a hug goodbye and they were on their way. You dreaded bringing Johns sandwich up to him knowing he was going to be silent out of frustration.

Stepping into your bedroom you were surprised to see your king sized bed empty. The panic that plagued you was suffocating and immediate. John wasn’t suppose to be moving without assistance with his injuries and you were terrified he might have fallen and was laying on the bathroom floor with torn stitches.

You shot to the bedside table to place the plate and glass of water then quickly made your way to the bathroom door. Bursting in without knocking you and John both screamed at each other in shock. John was seated on the toilet with his pants around his ankles and you quickly ran out of the bathroom with your hands covering your eyes.

“Bloody hell Y/N!” John shouted at you turning red in the face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I thought you fell! How’d you get in there?” You bellowed out slamming the door behind you. Trying to erase the image of him you had just seen so you could look John in the eyes later.

“My dad helped me up! For fucks sake you’re worse than the kids! Bloody knock next time!” John was yelling through the thick wood of the bathroom door. You knew if he wasn’t in a bad mood previously he was now. Now his anger was directed at you which was not going to be fun to deal with. John never took embarrassment well.

You weren’t sure you’d get the image of him shirtless on the toilet out of your head. You and John were pretty good about privacy only having seen each other in compromising positions like that maybe a dozen times in your long history together. When it came to you helping him while injured he’d tell you to look away which you respected and so did he when you had needed assistance after birth. Some mystery was gladly acceptable by the pair of you.

“Did dad just yell at you?” Jj was standing in the bedroom doorway wide eyed. John never yelled at you unless he was on a suicide mission. Both your children considered you the cross one not hiding your annoyance with their father but he hardly ever showed it with you.

“Yes, he did.” Your voice was high pitched. Now realizing the only reason your son was in here was because he was looking for lunch that you had fallen behind on.

“Molly, NO!” Jj lunged forward. Turning you saw the tri-colored border collie licking at your husbands sandwich you placed on the night stand. In seconds she had John’s roast beef sandwich clasped between her jaw, trying to house it down in a few bites. She paused for only a second as Jj tried to snatch it from her, before she was dashing for the door accidentally knocking Jj over.

“MOLLY!” You yelled chasing after her. Jj was a foot behind you as you chased the poor dog around the house and out to the backyard. Molly thought it was a game and you didn’t want her eating table food and getting an upset stomach. Evelyn and Jj found it hilarious watching you chase after the family dog who had a thick sandwich in her mouth. Evelyn may or may not have taken a Polaroid picture of you mid sprint after Molly by the chicken coop.

After the stunt was over and you accepted your defeat, you made your way back inside. Bringing yourself back into mom mode, you made your children Mac and cheese and frozen fish fingers because you were too exhausted to do anything else. They both complained at you that they wanted the lunch they were promised; which was fish and chips. The glare you gave them had ‘thank you’s ’ rolling off their tongues. The quick rebuttal of ‘so for dinner?’ Following their complaints. That’s when your remembered John had requested fish and chips for lunch. You had honestly completely forgot about him having become so sidetracked.

That when it hit you. You had abandoned John to be stuck on the toilet for nearly an hour. To say he was upset would not do it justice. John was convinced you left him there because you were mad that he yelled at you. No convincing could change his mind and for years to come he would snipe at you for leaving him stranded on the toilet. He didn’t even get fish and chips like he’d asked for which had him complaining even more.

John had to eat cold Mac and cheese and some fish fingers you threw into the air fryer. The complaints stopped after dinner when he’d finally gotten the food he requested. Telling you he would prefer to not talk about what happened with his mother for some time. It was too fresh for him and John needed time to work through it on his own. He was open to hear your feelings and was a true help.

So you gave him the space he needed on the subject and cuddled next to him in bed. When you breast fed Lily next to him and shared your plate of assorted snack you’d gathered as your own dinner later that night. John realized you hadn’t eaten anything that day until now. Some baby puffs you fed Lily, crackers, sliced cheese, a handful of fruit and nuts, a little bowl of hummus, and a half slice of coffee cake was your dinner.

John then realized you normally did not make yourself dinner and just snacked on the leftovers like a little mouse. John did not let that last. After that night he would randomly order takeaway to show up at your door for only you. You swooned over him seeing your dinner show up each night after the kids had gone to bed. John always guessed right on your cravings and you happily shared with him. He couldn’t do much to romance you but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to try.

By the time this recent dinner showed up, it was a week later. John was just healed enough to be moving around the house on crutches. You suggested some slow love making which had John giddy. Good thing he had just sent in a request for two dozen roses as a small thank you for taking care of him. They’d be there first thing in the morning after your lovely night together. The sweet gesture just might involve some romance right after breakfast when the children had gone to school. John prayed for the best hoping things could finally turn around for your family. Hoping to leave his mother in the past and move forward.

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea

[dawnoftime22]

can i get a fluffy taylor request where reader(who is in a established relationship with tay) is bipolar and like- they are starting to hit a depressive phase? its not too bad or serious they're just numb and sleeping a lot and needing comfort and support? its fine if not. just know you're loved, take care of yourself

just be here.

| T.S

Warnings: Numbness / dissociation, R being stuck in bed and sleeping a lot, feeling guilt / small anxiety, more non verbal reassurances than verbal, shower scene with tay; sweet details only

Summary: As an empty day hits you, you end up with lots of sleep, and no productive things done. Taylor gets concerned, but takes loving care of you, with kisses and reassuring touches.

Word Count: 5.8k

Category: fluff, comfort, hurt/comfort (at the beginning if you squint?)

A/N: this isn't really a work of mine I'd say I like because it feels like a mess, but its the best I can do :') starting is a little slow, but it dives into the full comfort in the midday cut if you only want to read that<3

Request A/N: hey, if you're going through this, I understand. just know it won't last forever. I've gotten out of it just recently, it just takes time and care. sit and enjoy the little things for now :] I don't know much about bipolar disorder, but I am familiar with what you described, so this is mostly focused on that part<3 thank you so much for requesting with your lovely words! you're just as loved, if not, more!!

| Started on 08/11/2024, 10:32 AM |

| Finished on 12/11/2024, 12:13 AM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

Request Guidelines | Part Two, 'look after you.'

“I'll hold your hand through it.”

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

The windows only had a dark blue color. Where the curtains were once covering the view of the dusk sky, they had been draped aside by gentle hands.

It was warm, and perfectly cold at the same time. You could feel the covers cozily upon your body. There was some more time to relish it in, right?

Your vision had caught only a glimpse of the blonde, going into the bathroom for perhaps a shower, just before you let yourself surrender to the void of darkness, once more.

When you woke up again, you realize the brighter light shining through the window, white and gleaming instead of the blue dusk color, and you knew what had happened.

You had slept in the day, once again.

A sigh leaves your lips and you reach for your phone by the nightstand, checking the time. It was 9:30 in the morning, where any minutes later, it would have been double digits on the screen.

You slumped into the mattress, your cheek getting squished against the pillow. That was it, your morning routine had fallen down.

There was nearly enough time for you to set your phone back down and close your eyes again, just to avoid even dealing with it all. Nearly. At least, until a gentlefamiliar voice sounds out from behind you.

"Hey, sweetheart," Taylor softly calls from the doorway, her hand going to rest on the doorframe after making her way from the kitchen. She could just barely see you, holding your phone rather than having your arms curled up as earlier, when you were sleeping.

"You're up?" she continued, tilting her head, but her voice questioned her own observations. It wasn't until you soon turned to face her that she could see you were awake. You shifted groggily, staying under the covers and pulling it up to keep yourself warm.

She smiles softly at you as her heart swells, her eyes traveling your sleepy face. You let out a slow breath, blinking drowzily at her, but soon, Taylor gently pushes herself off the doorframe, making her way to you.

"I didn't have the heart to wake you baby, you looked so adorably peaceful," she murmurs, going to crawl into bed to join you. She lays down beside you, gently pulling you closer to snuggle.

"...and cuddly," she adds, getting under the covers too, because it was getting cold, even with just the ceiling fan on.

You stretched your legs under the blanket with your body, eyes closed to then go into her embrace, burying your face into her chest.

Her hand comes into contact with your hair, fingers going through your strands soothingly. She gazes at you, noticing your quietness.

"I made us some breakfast," she whispered, staying in the cuddle for a little while before she shifts her position, her elbow resting on the pillow to prop herself up in a sitting position.

It was quiet for a moment, the fan humming gently in the silence. You wanted to respond, but it felt too early in the morning to even speak.

Taylor didn't mind though. She gently smooths your hair back, her hands being gentle with affection. "Theres eggs and bacon...some cut up apples..." she says slowly, pausing her movement. She could feel you burying your face further into her chest.

"I would ask if you wanna shower first...but the food would go cold," she adds, continuing the motion in your hair and leaning down to lay a soft kiss to your head.

She was about to think that you had fallen asleep, but then she sees you peeking your face out slightly, your cheek against her chest now.

Her lips raise up into the softest smile at the sight of you. "...Ready to get up yet?" she murmurs, seeing the way you haven't moved at all, other than your little head turn.

A yawn passes by your lips, but you let out the quietest protest of an elongated hum, nuzzling back into her. Definitely not because of a shower, and especially not because of the food your lovely girlfriend's told you she's made, but to getting out of bed.

"You're so comfy, huh?" She chuckles, seeing your pout, although there was a slight difference upon it that tugged at her curiosities.

She shifts slightly, trying to move and get up a little more. "Just a few minutes baby...then we can be all warm again, okay?" she says gently.

You melted into her, slumping further into her embrace and nearly holding on. Her eyes soften sympathetically at your stubbornness, but eventually saw the smallest, little nod.

She took that as a sign to get up, and she felt relief flow through her. Although she would have carried you out from bed anyway. Slowly, she untangles herself from you, moving to help you sit up.

She keeps her eyes on you as the both of you got out of bed. Standing up was groggy, but you managed it with her beside you, eventually making your way out the bedroom.

Her cats were hanging around, Olivia by the kitchen, eating out her cat bowl, finishing her food. The other two bowls were empty, Benjamin laying on the carpet while Meredith was probably somewhere in the music room instead of the living area.

You got to the dining table, seeing the plates had your breakfast all ready. The chair gently scrapes the floor, and you sat down, while Taylor went to pour some orange juice into some glasses— one for you and one for her.

When she comes back, you shifted in your seat to get comfortable, then picked up your fork, starting with the apple slices. She places your drinks on the table before she sat down herself.

You took a bite of a slice, and put the rest on your plate. She smiles softly, content in the moment. Her hand reaches out to grasp her drink, taking a sip and relishing the taste, then looking at you after she put it back down.

She watches for a bit, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "You're quiet..." she whispers softly, the words slipping out faster than her mind can reach. She noticed the way your eyes went to her instantly, flickering with a milisecond of emotion.

"I'm sorry, its just..." you whisper, having had no intention to make her feel like you were treating her any differently. Or, anything. It might've been the only thing that could make your heart feel like sinking for the present moment.

"I don't have anything on my mind right now..." you mumble, staring down to your plate, pausing your eating. Taylor shook her head gently, quickly taking back her words.

"No, I don't mean it like that," she whispers. Her shoulders fell ever so slightly in regret, and a frown was on her face at how your mind jumped straight to thinking she meant it in a bad way.

She reaches out to gently grasp your hand, assuring you softly. "I don't mind it when you're quiet." Her eyes search yours, finding there to be a certain blankness within.

"I'm just...concerned, baby," she adds, worry growing into her heart. She gives your hand a gentle squeeze, starting to feel that something was off.

She then takes in a breath. "...You know, Olivia was in space yesterday," Taylor says suddenly, gently cutting the quietness and returning her hand back to herself. You missed the embrace of her warmth already, but you didn't say anything.

You blink at the sentence though, wondering if she thought of it due to you zoning out, or if it was just the first thing she thought of to say next.

"What?" you whisper under your breath, looking at her. She returns your gaze, hers softening instead of being fully concerned.

A chuckle leaves her raised lips. "Yeah, looking like shes flying through space. I mean, I took some photos if you wanna see..." she murmurs, grabbing her phone from the table, just beside her plate, flipping it to the front to unlock her screen.

You wait patiently, a setting your fork down to lean against the dining table, watching as she goes to her photos to find it.

She stifles a giggle when she did, then turned her phone to show you it.

Your eyes widened, and a smile, for once, rose up from your lips, joined in with a giggle. "Tay..." you whisper, all while she was laughing off her heart.

"Amazing, right? Like...that one rainbow cat. The nyan...nyan cat?" she adds, grinning widely at you. Your giggles turned into a laugh as you nod, agreeing with her reference.

Her heart swells at your joyous sounds, finally getting at least a single full smile out of you in success.

When you both soon finished up breakfast with some passing time, you had stood up, taking the plates to the sink to start cleaning them.

Taylor was finishing off her drink before she steps off to you and leans over to put the glass in the sink.

She then gently wraps her arms around your waist from behind, giving a small, gentle kiss to your shoulder before resting her chin atop it.

Your heart warmed at the sweet gesture. Her eyes watch you put the soap on the plates, cleaning off the grime and dust.

"...How about a warm shower later?" she whispers softly, her voice near your ear, her warm breath nearly tickling your skin.

You thought about it for a moment, then gave way to a gentle, "Yeah...sure." Taylor was smiling softly, resting her cheek then to the back of your shoulder.

You turn your body slightly, pausing the washing to give her a gentle kiss. Her smile grew wider, and she met you halfway in a tender gesture.

The shower later was warm, a slow, affectionate atmosphere. It kind of left you feeling unreal, like you weren't even in your current reality.

As Taylor gently puts the shower gel on your skin, you were spaced out, off onto the shower wall. You had already helped her clean, and now she was returning the gesture, which usually you would be adoring her features as she focused, but your mind was off, and it couldn't at the moment.

She notices your expression, unbothered, but not enough to count as nonchalant. You felt like you were a car, always set to neutral mode all the time, and the world seemed gray along with your feelings, aside from Taylor, being sweet with her love and radiating the golden sun's warmth.

Her hand carefully roams your skin, fingertips brushing by every part of you as the running shower's sound echoes through the bathroom.

Taylor then leans in to give your cheek a kiss, as soft as the warm steam going up. "You okay, sweetheart?" she whispers softly.

Your eyes travel to her, catching smoothly with ease. "...Yeah..." you whispered back, trying to give her a small smile, but even she could see through it, see the slightest hint of a stoic look in your expression.

Her lips turn to the smallest of frowns, but she gives you another kiss, this time on your shoulder once the shower gel was rinsed off, her eyes going down to focus back to cleaning your body. "Okay..."

When she finishes up rinsing off the last of the shower gel on your body, then letting you both soak in a bit longer in the warmth, she soon turns off the shower, the water no longer felt cascading down your body.

You reach for the towel, drying yourself off before stepping out the shower with the towel around you. Taylor did the same, following you, and slipping her hand to yours, intertwining your fingers before you go to the bedroom.

You get your clothes on, after the tensing of the cold air. As you adjusted the hem of your shirt to fit completely so it wasn't bundled up, Taylor came up behind you, since you were standing facing the bed.

Her finger comes up, giving a gentle tap to your shoulder. The touch was light, but it got your attention enough to turn around.

She held up one of her hoodies, which was her lover hoodie that she loved wearing often, now offering it to you for today.

Your expressions softened, and you nod, letting her help you slip it on, getting your head up the neckline and pulling the sleeves on your arms.

She smiles once she was done, stepping back with a proudness in her heart of you in her hoodie. It was a usual sight, but it never failed to reach her precious heart.

The smallest hint of a pink tint came up in your cheeks, and Taylor went to sit down at the edge of the bed, still looking at you.

You go to get in bed, but going to the pillows, laying down and pulling the covers back up your body.

Her gaze softens when she follows your trail, and she joins you, scooting beside you, finding that you were spending much more time being cozy.

She wraps her arms around you, pulling you in closer. A small silence, at least, goes for a little moment.

"...Do you wanna watch a movie with me? Or...come join me in the music room?" she whispers. The windows were still bright with the daylight, shining in through and making the room glow, but cozy enough to send you into a dozy state.

"I...kind of just wanna be in bed..." you whisper softly back, curling into her. She could feel your nose ever so slightly brush against her shirt.

"You sure, baby?" Taylor asks, her eyes searching your body language, and just a bit of your eyes she could see.

"Yeah...its okay, you can go write..." you say softly, pursing your lip. Then a soft yawn escapes your mouth that you had to cover with your hand.

"I'm sleepy..." you murmured then, snuggling closer to her and slowly letting your eyes close.

Taylor looks down with concern growing on her expressions, but her hand gently rubs your back. "Well...okay, sweetie," she whispers back.

The fan was humming with wind, keeping the room filled with air and a certain coldness. You couldn't tell if it was because of your dust colored blue walls, or if the fan was just too cold.

Another yawn passes by your lips, and you curled up further. You wanted to go back to sleep. It was so tempting. So cozy and cold, even if it was the afternoon already.

You couldn't resist...

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

Taylor sat beside you after coming back from some songwriting.

She settled with nothing but only her own presence and your sleeping one. Her phone was on the nightstand. A book she was reading, was sitting over by the desk, and her guitar, was on its stand.

Her eyes search your figure from behind. You weren't even on the pillows anymore, you were in an odd horizontal position, curled up, like you were a cat.

She guessed you had been in and out of sleep, changing positions from the ruffled up look of the blanket and sheets.

She could see the dishelved look on your hair, and you didn't even have the blanket up your body.

A small breath leaves her soft lips. Her hand reaches for the covers, and she pulled them up, gently warming you up so you weren't going cold.

Before she could return back to her comfortable position, she soon heard some rustling from you stirring. She held her breath, freezing. But you were just turning around with your eyes still closed. Your arm had fallen to the bed once more in the roll of your body.

She lets her breath release in relief, realizing you were only moving in your sleep, your body urging to get comfortable.

When she leans back to the pillows, she gazes your face, her arm draped around your body. You seemed so sweet and peaceful, she almost didn't want to wake you at all.

But as much as she loved seeing you asleep and wondering what you were dreaming, she couldn't help the concern poking her heart. You may have simply needed the rest, but shutting down the whole day certainly wasn't something usual of you.

She wasn't upset with you. Not at all. She was simply aching at the thought that you were possibly struggling with something, but not wanting to tell her, or even maybe unable to describe it.

Sometime soon, the way your soft breaths turned more noticeable was a tell that you were waking up, along with your slowly opening eyes.

You let out a slow huff of a breath. Your body felt heavy. Your limbs were sore, and especially your legs and feet. You had been staying in bed for too long.

The feeling was still there. The blank feel of your own eyes, the feel of your heart. You swallowed the sleep in your throat, turning your head groggily, and your face peeking out from Taylor's chest.

She notices the movement, and looks down, tilting her head to see you. "...Sweetheart?" she whispers softly, her thumb going to gently rub your back.

You look up at her, a stoic looking expression on your face. You took a deep breath, then sighed softly, feeling the way your body sinks at the exhale.

She could see it. That faraway, distant look. Her eyebrows furrow, trying to put pieces together, of what could possibly have reason to your change of behaviour. But she stopped her mind, because maybe she didn't need to put a reason to it. Maybe she could just provide you your comfort and warmth.

What made it even worse was, you didn't even feel heavy. Maybe even floating, but you didn't feel like that either. You were grounded, present, but everything was like white noise.

You had showered in the morning, but because you had been napping, you didn't even feel clean anymore. Definitely not refreshed, either, even though you've caught all the sleep in the world.

"I'm sorry," you whispered softly, nuzzling into her. Her eyebrows furrow, and she looks down at you.

Taylor took in her own breath, pulling you in closer. "...Shh...It's okay...what are you sorry of...?" she whispers softly, knowing your lack of communication, meant something was off.

"Whats wrong, baby?" she asks softly, moving your stray strands of hair aside, keeping them clear from your eyes.

You curl up into her, snuggling in to find comfort in her embrace. You wanted to tell her. But the room was quiet. You could only feel the coldness of the wind, coming from the ceiling fan above you, brushing against your skin.

Everything seemed bare, felt like it was dull arrows piercing through an empty heart. You rest your head against the front of Taylor's shoulder, one arm around her while your other hand was fiddling with the fabric of her shirt.

Her hands go through your hair soothingly, waiting patiently for any sign that you would perhaps talk, but didn't mind not having an answer, at least knowing you were relishing all the comfort in her embrace.

She nuzzles into your hair, breathing in the scent of shampoo from the shower earlier, then contently sighed, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against you.

Your finger drew mindless circles, and your thumb went in a back and forth position here and there. "...What if it stays like this...?" you whispered. You then took a breath in, wanting to say further, but then you just exhaled it out shortly after, too tired to even say anything else.

She looks down at you, leaning back slightly. "Us, baby...?" she asks, wondering if you were relishing in the quietness. You shook your head.

"Me, sleeping constantly..." you murmur, the slight guilt etching into your voice. You hadn't done anything for the whole day,

"Oh...it won't, darling..." Her arms around you tightened, pulling you in closer. You lean into her, feeling the water in your eyes blur your vision, but you blink a little, and they were gone the second they came.

"...Just...I feel useless...and I didn't do anything today, or hung out with you." Your voice was getting quieter, smaller, possibly even along with how you were shrinking into her, burying your face into the crook of her neck.

She brings her attention to her thoughts, going through all the words in her mind. "You did things with me today. You got up from bed, ate your breakfast, showered...thats enough for me," she reassures you, letting out a soft breath.

"...You know, its normal to get some extra rest...even if you feel like you haven't 'done enough' to get up to that point," she whispers, laying a kiss atop your head.

"Its okay. You can just stay here with me for now," She whispers, resting her chin where she kissed afterwards, making you feel the warmth of her embrace enveloping you.

You heard her murmur, but you slump ever so slightly. "But when will it stop?" you whisper, one of the other problems tugging at the veins of your heart.

Her soft, non audible sigh was provided with an ache in her heart. "I don't know either, sweetheart..." she tilts her head down, looking into your eyes. "And thats okay. You don't always have to worry when it ends, maybe it'll just...happen," she whispers, nuzzling into your nose.

"...It happens with me too, you know..." she says, remembering all the times shes come back home from her shows, or an interview. You look up at her, searching her eyes. She smiles softly, giving you a gentle kiss. "And you've seen that I always turn out better...because you were always beside me."

The quietness goes for a moment, but now with a small drop of comfort, filling the space, some minutes for you to linger on her words. She gazes off to the doorway of your shared bedroom, deep in thought.

"Do you want something to eat...?" she whispers slowly, leaning back slightly to see your face. It had been hours since breakfast already, and she knew lunch was coming around.

Your stomach did feel empty. You hadn't noticed it until now. But you nuzzle back into her. Her arms instinctively tighten around you, a smile tugging on her lips.

"Its comfy..." you murmured. You certainly didn't want to let go, especially with the covers being as warm as Taylor, acting like a shield to the cold.

She gives another kiss to the top of your head, struggling to resist her smile. "Baby...as much as you look adorable, buried in the covers looking like a teddy bear..." she trails off, her eyes traveling down to you.

"Maybe you can be just as cozy when you're out of bed?" she suggests gently, tilting her head. Her thumb gave a sweet caress on your back.

You look into her eyes, hesitant on her gentle urging. The floor seemed too grounded for your feet, but the bed was also too soft for you to stay any longer without feeling the soreness.

After some consideration, you soon accept it with a gentle nod, the churning in your stomach unable to stay unnoticed anymore.

She smiles, ever so slightly, sitting up to start getting up from the bed. You felt a twinge of disappointment at the loss of warmth, but you follow her as she helps you.

You let out a gentle sigh when you sat at the edge of the bed. Taylor waited patiently when she stood up, her gaze gentle over your face. Her hand held yours, keeping touch.

You could feel a gentle squeeze, giving you reassurance before you finally will yourself to stand up. Although maybe a little too fast, causing you to blink at the dizziness and lean yourself against her.

She held you gently, her hand slipping out of yours quickly to wrap her arms around your waist, keeping you steady.

Whats worse is, you didn't even feel tired. You had feelings, but they weren't felt in your heart. There was sleepiness evident, but not tiredness evident. You were simply living in your body and drifting through time.

The world fell quiet, for once. But almost too quiet. Your ankle had pressure as you took your steps forward, and Taylor could see the slight disorientation mustered on your face, so she kept her eye on you, walking with you.

"Slow steps, baby," she whispers, concern etched on her face as she guides you. The deja vu of the moment was starting to run over your mind.

When you got to the kitchen, you sat at the barstool, while Taylor went off to open the cabinets, looking at the options to then take a glance to you.

"Toast or something else, baby?" she asks softly, her hand still holding on the handle of the cabinet. You turn your head up to her, blinking.

"Toast," you answered quietly. Taylor nods, and grabbed a plate, preparing it for you with your favorite spread on the bread.

Once she was done carefully setting it, she sets the plate down in front of you with a gentle clink, then smiled softly, leaning against the kitchen island.

You look to it, then lean forward a little, reaching out to take the toast into your grasp and put a bite into it.

As you chewed, you stare down at your sandwich in your hand, but couldn't help space off to the side a little, or the marble top of the island. You couldn't tell.

A quietness overlays the room. Taylor's eyes roam your expression before she rounds the island to your side, sitting beside you on another barstool.

"Maybe, if you want, we can sit outside for a little bit, you know?" she says softly, resting her arm on the kitchen island, along with her cheek against her palm.

You look at her, getting out of the zoned out state as she gently pulls you back to reality. At the same time, needing to swallow the bread in your mouth and take another bite as she watches.

"Have some hot chocolate..." she suggests softly, trailing off with a gentle smile growing on her face, her eyes going to you. She had made the corner of your lips have the smallest raise.

Taylor waits a little longer, seeing the wheels turning in your mind. "...Hm...?...is that okay with you?" she murmurs softly, in search of confirmation.

You think about it for a moment. Going back to bed seemed so nice. But having hot chocolate in the sun with Taylor? It was...an equal deal. Most times you didn't even need to think about such an offer like that, but even you couldn't figure out what was wrong with your current mind, if there was anything that needed to be identified.

A breath slowly leaves you, and you gave in with a nod, along with a small raise on the corner of your lips that didn't reach your eyes. "Sure."

She fully smiles now, and gives a nod of her own. "Good, I'll make the hot chocolate while you eat," she says, getting up to return to the kitchen counters.

You could hear the creaking of the cabinets, the pouring of hot water, and the gentle clinking of small spoons, stirring against the mugs.

It kept you focused on her, seeing her every move as she made the simple recipe of a warm beverage, easily fit for the midst of days like these.

Once you finish your sandwich, you put away the plate in the sink, although deciding to wash it later since there will be mugs too, now.

Just as you were finished, Taylor was too, and she had gestured to you your drink beside her on the counter, her hand still stirring her own.

You take some steps over to her, your hand about to reach out for the drink. "Careful, baby...its hot," she warned gently, wanting you to be careful.

You look to her, but then gently wrapping your fingers around the mug's handle. "Its called hot chocolate, anyway..." you say, the smallest smile on the corners of your lips, but it elicited a giggle out of Taylor, her head nodding in agreement. "True," she says.

You walked over to the front door, unlocking it and opening it slowly. The sunlight was shining down on everything, making a bright glow against the wooden porch. It was also going to be the sunset soon, too.

Taylor was about to join you in going outside as she followed, but got distracted by a nearby Benjamin, who had gotten curious of the front door opening.

His blue eyes stared gently right back up to her own, and she couldn't help but smile, bending down to gently pick his body up with her free hand.

Then, she joins you, stepping out the house and sitting down beside you on the clean steps of the porch. You were gently blowing on your hot chocolate, although there was a part in you that had an urge to simply take a sip, you remember Taylor's sweet warning.

She settled down with Benjamin, now laid down on her lap comfortably. Once she got comfortable, she puts down her mug, making sure it wasn't in a place where it could be knocked over.

You took some gentle sips, although it was still steaming hot, you could feel the warmth of the hot chocolate, running down easily through your throat, a soothing feeling that sank to your body.

Taylor glances to you, her eyes gently roaming your features and expression. She takes a moment, just a few, before she shifts closer and reaches her arm around you, pulling you closer just a little.

You blink slightly at the pull, but you lean into it eventually, melting into the side of her shoulder. Benjamin noticed, his ears tilting a little, but then he goes into your lap instead, resting cozily, purring. You could feel it.

It almost only made you feel sleepier. But in the comforting way, like the sunshine on your face, melting away the cold.

A gentle smile turns up on her face as she looks at you, then wraps her arm around you, comforting you with her touch.

She could see the relaxation going through you, finding solace in her presence as she simply sits there, peacefully with you. Maybe you didn't need anything else right now. Maybe you didn't have to do anything, but just be present.

Her thumb gently rubs your shoulder through your shirt, and she leans her head against yours, turning to give a lingering kiss before getting comfortable again.

She watches the birds fly in the sky, returning to their home or go to find food. "...Baby?" she starts with a whisper, gently catching your attention to her.

You turn your head to look at her, seeing she had leaned back slightly to look at you properly. "...Mm?" you responded with a questioning hum.

She stays quiet for a moment, simply searching your eyes, as if she was trying to read your thoughts.

"...Can you tell me something, honey?" she asks softly, her other hand coming down to gently slip into your own hand, intertwining your fingers. You gave her a gentle nod, wanting her to continue.

A bit of her lip gets captured by her teeth, but then she lets go to speak quietly, treading carefully. "Do you need anything?"

You thought about the question, your eyes slowly blinking through it, and there was a near furrow in your eyebrows, but eventually her question was answered. "...Just you."

A small smile grew on her lips, but the breath in she took told that she had more to say. "Okay, then be honest with me on this one," she continued, her voice a little more serious, but still soft and sweet.

You stay quiet, waiting for her next words. "What's going on...hm?" she asks with a slight tilt of her head, her hand that was on your shoulder going down to find ground on the wood of the porch.

Your eyes divert from her gaze the second her question came out, a small breath escaping you slowly, but your free hand went to Benjamin's soft fur.

Her face softens, seeing the way you turned away, and she gave a gentle squeeze to your hand. "You don't have to tell, and I won't judge...but I'm worried. I mean, aside from all the sleeping..." she murmurs, knowing there was something else.

You take a moment to respond, your teeth sinking into the side of your lip. You didn't want to answer. You didn't know how to. But it was Taylor, and if anyone could understand your feelings the most, it was her.

Your shoulders lowered slowly with a breath, your eyes downcast. You gathered your words before you softly spoke. "...I don't know whats happening anymore, Tay."

Your gaze returned to her, your eyes squeezing slightly in sadness as you then lean your head against her shoulder. "I feel so...sleepy...but I've gotten so much sleep."

Her hand rubs in a soothing up and down motion on your shoulder, pulling you closer before she gives a kiss to your head, listening closely.

You sighed. "...I don't know. Its...everything is just...gray. I can't find...passion. And not even music helps..." you continued, with your last words being quiet, and then you slumping into her in defeat.

Taylor's heart broke at the heaviness your shoulders seemed to be holding, even if it didn't show, or didn't felt like it was there.

But she took her heart's love, trying to help you find your way back. "Its okay if you end up not being able to feel things sometimes, you know..." she whispers softly.

"I mean, its...not great, but you're still here, aren't you? Being present, still giggling every once in a while even if its hard." she says softly, a small smile coming up on her face to reassure you, and you did feel your heart soften.

"Maybe your brain's just trying to protect you, from big feelings, but it doesn't know how much to reduce?" she pauses for a moment, her mind wanting to be careful with her words. A breath of air goes through her lips.

You frown, hugging her closer and going closer the best you could with Benjamin in your lap. You could still feel the purring. "I don't like it..." you murmur, hating that you couldn't seem to feel anything, nearly to the point that you were even beginning to think it was becoming your personality. But Taylor knew it wasn't that.

"I know...but it won't last forever, sweetheart," she reassures you softly, her arms tightening around you. Her embrace held her love.

"Your passion will come right back to you sometime soon, and maybe you'll even blink and its right there again." The words were simple, a gentle but clear meaning to you in your mind as Taylor gazes off to the neighbourhood.

"Maybe we don't have to...do anything...we can just...sit," she whispers, relaxing slowly with you. She could feel your own body, melting away the tension.

"...And I'll be right here, beside you." Her murmur was quiet, leaning back and tilting her head to look at you, then kiss your cheek, a breath of near relief escaping you as you bury your face into her.

"Its okay."

"We're gonna be okay, baby."

----------------------

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[httpsdana]

Gavi one where she’s feeling really insecure and comparing herself to others because she’s not the tiniest girl and he just showers her with love

Insecure~Pablo Gavi

*GIF isn't mine. credits to the owner*

A reminder that everyone reading this is absolutely beautiful and i love you all so much 💋💞

you can request from my prompt list

this is my master list

players/drivers i write for

y/n wasn't the tiniest girl ever. She had some fats in her belly, and for her, her thighs where way too big. For her, her face was too round and her cheeks were too chubby. For her she was too much.

Feeling insecure since you were a child only makes it more traumatic when you grow up. You carry that guilt with you until it becomes unbearable. And when you finally start feeling good about yourself, or when you finally accept yourself as you are, something ruins it and takes you back to zero, where you're standing in front of the mirror, and pointing out every imperfection you can see in your appearance, and body.

That was the case with y/n. Growing up as a child she was always bullied for her body. She never felt good about herself. Reaching high school you would say the bullying stopped, but it didn't. It only became worse. That's why when she met Gavi after her graduation, she thought he was just there to make fun of her or something.

She pushed him away thinking that its better than getting attached. But his desire to make this broken girl his won, and there they are happiest as ever.

Well that was until Pablo decided go post a picture of them. They had always been the pribate couple. They only posted pictures where their faces don't appear, just pictures of their hands interwined, or one where their backs are to the camera with his arms around her.

But this picture was on another level. It was a picture of them at one of their friend's wedding. She had a slightly tight dress on, and her stomach was bloated and on display, her hair was out of place and her lipstick was ruined. Her shoulders looked too broad and her smile was awkward. Everything seemed wrong.

Although she knew it was a bad thing to do, she opened the comment to see what people thought about it, and it seemed like everyone had the same opinion as her.

nah look at that double chin 💀🤣

gurl should've gotten a bigger size 😬

is gavi actually dating her-

ain't no way literal models exist and he's with her 💀

i wonder if he's forced to date her or smth

Tear streamed down her face like a river. She didn't think these comments would affect her that much...but they did. She knew people will not like her, but she didn't think she would get more criticism than she did back in high school.

She locked her phone and covered her face with her hands, trying to calm herself down by taking a few breathes.

Maybe if i had blonde hair Pablo would like me more? or colored eyes? he probably thinks I'm too basic for him. or too fat. why is he even still with me? so he can leave me when he's bored? or when he finds a model that's suitable for him?

These thoughts ran through her head, only drowning her even more. She thought that maybe scrolling through tiktok would keep her mind off what she just saw.

Oh how wrong she was. The only videos she saw showed pictures of Pablo with pretty girls, or from his last meet and greet, girls all over him, some giving him their instagram and others their number.

What made it worse was seeing Pablo keep the papers with him. And the caption are all the same thing about Pablo deserving a prettier girl.

She threw her phone across the room and burst into tears. She didn't think it would hurt this much, but it did.

"you scared the hell out of me! why didn't you open the door when i knocked?!" Pablo barged in the room, making her flinch and the sound of the door

Only when he saw her puffy eyes and wet cheeks, his face softened but showed worry instead

"are you okay mi amor? why are you crying what happened?" he asked in a soft voice

He tried wrapping his arms around her but she only pushed him away and tried to stop her sobbing

"y/n.. what's wrong?" he asked, hurt evident in his voice and his eyes

"why are you with me Pablo? are you still here to make fun of me? why are you not with a model or something like literally every other football player? why are here with me? a normal basic fat girl with chubby cheeks and huge thighs and an ugly smile and a-" her sentence was interrupted by Pablo pressing his lips on hers

"y/n baby why are you saying that? you know i adore you. I'm literally so in love you that I can't even look at any other girl. I would die for you my love. Why would i want a model when i have you? a pretty, smart, super adorable, and an amazing chef as my girl. why would i want a girl who only cares about what she wears or how she looks or what she owns. I only want you sweetheart. I only love you and only what to have you in my arms every night. I don't know why you think i would leave you. you're the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. I don't know what made you feel this way, but please don't ever think that low of yourself. I'm so proud of you and i love you so so much" he said in a soft tone, his hands holding her face and wiping her tears with his thumbs. He kissed her tears away and brushed her hair away from her eyes.

She managed to give a small smile. Her stomach erupting with butterflies at the sweet words said by her boyfriend. She felt the genuine love they shared and the sincerity in his voice.

"I don't deserve you. you're amazing. i love you so much" she whispered, wrapping her arms round his torso and laying her head on his chest

"please don't say that. I'm the one who's lucky to have you in my life"

[scummy-writes]

Things I've learned about being in fandoms on tumblr

Sometimes when I am navigating fandom, I will have bouts of... depression? negative feelings? regarding it. I think a lot of people go through this, but in the areas of fandom I buzz around in, I don't see many people talking about ways to sort of re-center yourself and take care of yourself in an online space. I thought I would attempt to share some of my habits I try to follow when I hit one of these moods. So here are 14 of them covering various subjects I run into the most. They will not work for everyone, but I do encourage you to think a bit about each point and see if it would work for you.

Feel free to add some of your own, but I am looking for positive advice that is not meant to put down others in a harmful way. I would also like to preface that I've been in fandoms for over seven years, most of them smaller rather than huge, but a lot of this advice is centered around someone just trying to enjoy the space/enjoying it as a fan creator (writing fanfics in my case). The 'you' used in this is a general usage of the word 'you'.

-> It's good to celebrate milestones, whether its how many followers you have, works you've made in a year, or similar.

However... Don't let this become a competition or reasons to compare yourself to others. We're here to have fun and to celebrate us doing so- don't put completely unneeded and unnessacary competition on it. What's the point of that competition other than to make yourself feel bad or to belittle others? This extends further to notes - no number games. none. You can be proud of the numbers you have gotten, but curb all impulses to swing that in a negative way. The second that starts happening, talk to friends. talk to someone IRL. do something that isn't staring at your notifs, immediately. Even if its listening to silly things while washing the dishes- get out of your notifs tab!!! The numbers game isn't a game you have to be a part of, ever.

-> Don't put other bloggers on pedestals.

It's fine to be a fan of someone's work, and to be excited when they post or even talk to you and you're surprised by it. However, we're all just nerds together in a fandom- maybe don't put them up on a pedestal and hold their opinions/words as gospel rather than things you agree with. There's an unhealthy disconnect there for both parties, and can lead to unhealthy habits of a bad comparison game with one party not even knowing you're comparing yourself or others to them. And I promise that no one likes being pitted against others in those.

-> separating my main blog from my fandom blog has done wonders for me.

This one is a lot more of a 'me' thing that MIGHT be helpful towards others, but it's such a nice thing to have a 'normal' space where I don't have to worry too much about fandomisms but want to be online. I want to reblog other things that are not just fandom related and I don't want people from the fandom blog bothering me for. For the longest time I wasn't very upfront with my main blog purely because I wanted that separation, but for others to block me properly I put it up more bluntly.

I also think that this is good when you want to write about some things, but are nervous. In my example, I get nervous writing about my ocs. So what did I do? Made a sideblog for one, briefly mentioned it, and I post untagged drabbles at times when trying to explore her character. It's more practice on not caring about the note amount each post gets for me, and it makes me more at ease with things not getting any notes while exploring different subjects I don't usually write about.

-> Does everyone seem horrible, or are you just not in a good mood?

This is silly and maybe redundant for some, but it's good to keep a track of IRL verses Online. If IRL is weighing you down so much that you use online as an unhealthy habit (self destructive behaviors towards things you worked hard on, lashing out at friends for things out of their control, lashing out on other bloggers for inane things, focusing your bad mood on notes or fake popularity contests...) then try and figure out the big important things: Have you eaten, slept, drank enough water through the day, or are in pain/annoyance with something offline that you're not realizing? Is it one person online making you feel like this? Have you blocked them? Have you taken healthy breaks offline to reground yourself? When i am randomly bitter about the online world, this is typically my frustrations with smth IRL leaking out, and so I do something to help process that or to breathe through it. My personal go to is getting out of the house so I can listen to music, watch silly videos while putting together a simple craft I bought, or doing chores/playing games.

-> Is the fandom full of cliques, or are you witnessing friends just talking to each other?

I get it, it fucking sucks not being involved in a friend group. You know what makes that worse? By looking at other's friend groups bitterly and making up shit in your mind to justify it. The reality is this: people will be friends with a limited number of people, and frequently talk to them because that is who they are comfortable with.

You not being in that friend group does not mean there is anything wrong with you OR them. The honest truth is that it's hard to keep up with a ton of friends at once, and so people may not respond to your messages, or they might mean to but it gets lost in their hectic IRL, or they just don't mesh with you- and all of that is normal!

And... Really... It takes work to build up a friend group. You have to get out of your comfort zone and send the first few messages. You have to embrace the fact that it's possible a friendship won't pan out. It's natural, it's normal, and doesn't mean there is anything wrong with you or the other person. After trying and naturally just talking to people in the fandom, I promise that you will find a friend group of your own.

We are all socially awkward people trying to nervously talk to each other. Yes, even the people you follow that seem like 'everyone' likes them- they are nervous too. we're all just nerds here, remember that.

-> Understand that no one is obligated to do anything.

This ranges from so many things. Here is a list as short as I can manage it to get my point across: No one is obligated to comment, read, like, or reblog any posts. Any posts. No one is obligated to scour for new creatives in the fandom spaces and reblog their work. No one is obligated to tag their posts/creative adventures to your liking. No one is obligated to follow by your DNIs and BYFs. Obligation does not exist. Even your friends are not obligated to do any of this.

It is courtesy to do these things. Blogs will do their best to be supportive by nature, and to try and at least do some of this at any given time, but it's not a requirement. It's NICE to do so and encouraged, but the second you drill it into your head that no one, not even you, are obligated to do this, it's a bit easier to breathe and accept that no, it's a bit insane and difficult to read through 50 fanfics a week and comment a paragraph on all of them while also working on your own things and trying to manage 15 conversations while working 40 hrs a week and and and---

Instead, focus that energy on friends and yourself when you can and accept your own limitations.

-> have other fandoms you enjoy where you DON'T feel pressured to do ANYTHING.

Due to my hard fixation at usually one to two games at a time, I am usually only writing for those at a time- but I need other things to enjoy where I don't feel like I need to make something to post online. I don't feel that pressure from myself, i don't feel the need to try and engage with others. Just a quiet enjoyment for me.

-> If creating is really stressing you out and making you feel worse than better, reflect on the reasons this may be.

Are you hanging out with people who are regurgitating really bad beliefs regarding creation ("shame, you only got twenty notes, that's nothing", "wow fifty notes? that flopped.", "how did this person's shitty work get 30 more notes than me?"). Are you getting anons putting you down? Is your depression convincing you what you've made is worthless? Look at some of the points in this post regarding friends, blocking, and if you're neglecting your body's needs. If that still persists, there may be some self-reflection as to why things get to you so badly. Try to journal out the reasons why until you believe you hit one that is not your depression speaking.

An example: I would freak out about notes because I had friends that would talk around or to me in the examples listed in the previous paragraph. Cutting them off, focusing on friends who focused on the joys of creating, and focusing more on what *I* wanted to write rather than requests... I still get depressed at times but it's been so much more managable now with better support and feeling free creatively. Usually calling myself out at staring at notes helps me shake my head and move on now.

-> Blocking/Filtering is your friend, but maybe don't over do it.

Blocking seems vaguely controversial at times, but I do believe it's needed for a positive fandom experience. Outside of the obvious, the reasons I block people are typically related to how upset I am by something the person has done or said, even if it's related to fancreations. If it's something like them berating others for not believing their headcanon/fanon? Or grossly demonizing some character's mental illness? Or harassing people who dislike some characters and vice/versa? That's all a block for me.

I personally try not to overdo it and make educated decisions based on like, hey, is this just someone misunderstanding and not realizing how they're coming off? Is this someone who I am misreading their tone? Is this just a weird one-off behavior? Ok, then maybe no block button. But if seeing poor takes makes you angry for longer than, say, 20 mins? an hour? It's a week later and you're still all huffy about it and legit pissed? Maybe dig into that while also blocking the person for now.

The Filters aspect of this is similar, but it's a lighter version of blocking for me. Maybe I don't want to block this person but seeing them talk about bugs really stresses me out, so I look at how they tag those posts and filter it out for myself. Maybe I love their fandom blog but they're multi-fandom, so i will filter out a fandom I don't want to see them post about. That's it.

-> Don't be afraid to cut anon off, even if it's for a few weeks at a time.

I feel like those of us who take requests for fan creations are terrified of this a lot, but truly, taking breaks from the anon function should be encouraged. It is indeed a button for shy people, but there are assholes everywhere regardless. When they occupy your time too much or just annoy you, take away their ability to actually say anything to you.

For a creative, sometimes this can feel like the end of the world. But... you Can turn it back on later. I frequently shut it off during major life events, fanfics I am worried I might get weird anons about, when I'm in a randomly bad mood and don't think I can handle it. I Sometimes have it off for months at a time. You can cut it back on. But if anons make you anxious just imagining getting one right now? Flip that off for now. (also please utilize the block function for mean anons!!!)

-> turn those tumblr notifs OFF!!! (mobile) Additional: Turn your status OFF!!!

The only notifications I get on my phone from tumblr is when someone IM's me, and I've had it like this for years. I cannot imagine having my phone constantly going off with random tumblr notifications, I think I would have a bad spike in anxiety having that happen. It would make any negative feelings with notes/followers/number worse for me.

The online status is debatable, some people really don't have an issue with this, but I tend to feel pressured to respond to people asap if they see that my status is online and similar. Those people have not said anything to me regarding it, it's just my personal issue. So..I turn that status off. And it helps me feel better about answering in my own time.

-> Look at who you are communicating with.

Do your friends regularly dunk or mock people on the daily, over shit that is inane and petty? Are you a creative a bit nervous with your work because your friends are pretty rude with how they view other's works? Are you scared to like a character because your friend severely hates them/is attached to them to an unhealthy degree?

There are other subsets to this, but those are ones I find really troubling and try my best to avoid. I dont want to be friends with people who regularly mock others on the legit daily. I don't want to be friends with people who nitpick notes and use notes as a measure on how much worth someone has. I don't want to be friends with people who mock other's creative endeavors.

So... I don't! If I notice things are becoming a salt pit, I try to talk things out at first, but if its clear that's not gonna work, then it's outties for me. It's very true that everyone will salt over something eventually, but it's up to you to decide how severe it is with your friend circle, how it wears you down, and are they really people you want to hang around with if they just make you anxious or stressed all the time?

-> That vaguepost isn't about you.

Friend venting about someone who sounds oddly like you? Does your favorite blog mention something they dislike and you think you fit into that catagory- guess what. It's not about you!!

It's something I struggled with for a while, but eventually I came to terms with it by going "If they truly have an issue with me, they can talk to me one on one. Otherwise, i am assuming that this isn't about me" and gritting my teeth and forcing myself to repeat that until I feel at ease. Truthfully, I also just stopped hanging out with people who do this a ton in a harmful way, so my anxiety about this decreased. If it's an issue, friends should be willing to bring it up to you personally rather than make really meanspirited vagueposts.

-> A personal one I am putting at the end since I believe can easily turn bad, is... Stop looking in the fandom tags if they continiously bum you out.

I will be transparent, I've had bouts of running into a ton of 'why you should love/hate this character' posts over and over, posts that are random but use 50 different character tags, posts about how annoying my fave is, posts from/about bloggers I dislike, etc etc. After a while, I decided to just curate my feed via whoever I was following, and stop looking into tags as often. At most, I do it once every 1-3 months.

Yes, this does limit what all you can see, however... There's only so much information I can take in at once. If I follow people who reblog a ton of fandom content I love and it's different across the board, that's good enough for me and I don't feel negative looking at the tags sometimes.

[reikunrei]

feeling incredibly averse to posting this but i'm just gonna drop my kofi link here in case anyone wants to help me get out of my increasingly shitty situation living with my parents

more info below ig

after having given my parents nearly $100k over the last four years, i'd love to be able to actually leave. my future job situation is still up in the air (i've submitted for about a dozen positions and the only one i've heard back from and interviewed for hasn't gotten back to me yet), and i haven't been able to build up any savings because, again, i was (and still am) helping my family afford rent and bills, and probably the taxes my parents are behind on, but if i think about that, i'll get too angry. no joke, i've given my family, at the bare minimum, 85% of my income over the last 4 years. the rest of it has gone toward medical stuff and, now, my car

at this point, with the combo of my mom refusing to lower her standards and my dad's seeming refusal to hunt for a new full time job, i don't see how they won't continue to bleed me dry. my dad even has a bad habit of taking money out of my old savings account that he's a joint owner on or whatever from when i got it set up when i was 16, even when i stopped actively putting money in it, so now any time it gets its automated $1 transfer from my checking account, he'll just take that $1 without consulting me. i'm not exaggerating, even if it has $1-2 in it, it'll be gone within a week

i've even put off starting on testosterone because of this. i wanted to start it like 3 years ago, but kept putting it off because of money issues and wanting to save as much as possible. i got really close to actually starting it this year, but because of how messy everything is, i put it off again bc having one more thing on my plate, especially when my parents are already weird about me being trans, was not something i wanted to deal with

not to mention, we're still currently not living under a lease in our house that we're, as far as i'm aware, still tens of thousands of dollars behind in rent on (again, my dad refuses to disclose our financial position honestly with any of us) and it's developed many, many issues bc the landlord, even before we were behind on rent, is shit and refuses to actually fix anything. and my dad loves to just ignore things unless we beg him to do something

i'd love to be on my own (in the, much more affordable, midwest) by the end of summer. i by no means want to rely on donations and i have other avenues i'm working with to make money (i still have my current full time job, but i'm going through my old belongings and selling a lot online), but i'll take any help i can get atp because i'm truly at my wits end. i'd start doing art commissions again if i could, but doing that from 2020-2022, partially on top of my full time job, absolutely wrecked my right hand and i'm still in enough pain that i can't make it a regular activity

idk how much else there is to say. there's more i could say but... i don't really wanna air all my dirty laundry here. i'm miserable in so many ways and it's just become increasingly clear that my dad expects me to constantly cover his ass. my younger brother gives money too, but he manages to go on big cross-country and overseas trips with friends, so i think i've been stuck with the burden of giving the most money. there's so many more things going on in the world rn and everyone is stretched thin so i don't expect much, or anything, but. idk. might as well throw it out there, right?

i’ve also since taken down the gfm i set up last year when we got our first eviction notice bc, while we still need the money, i don’t feel right keeping it up for multiple reasons, including “i don’t want to give any of that money to my family” and it feels too… serious to keep it up when i could just throw out my kofi instead

i just want to make sure i have some sort of safety net to catch me if i move before anything job-wise is finalized. i need to be able to afford a place to live for at least a month so i can job-search while physically being in the area i wanna move to, which would ultimately make it easier for me to find a job at all. i'm working on being more firm with giving less money so i can actually have the means to move and be safe and comfortable, but... that never lasts long in this house

anyway. that's it, i guess. thanks for reading

[weaveandwood]

Writing prompt - You and Gale are baking a cake - What happens?

Oh no cake batter found its way onto his dick

LMAO. I'm going to write this as Auroria and Gale , post Midwinter In Waterdeep when they're back together. Hiding under the cut because this got WAY more explicit than I thought it would. You're welcome! Thanks for the fun prompt!

NSFW 18+ Word Count: 1331 Warnings: Vaginal Sex

She returned to the cabin two days ago as promised, in advance of Morena's birthday party. Gale said they would typically order a cake from the baker, but Auroria suggested baking one together as a gift for her. Auroria and Gale had been married about a year, but she always felt a tug to try to impress Morena both in penance for the emotional turmoil she put her son through for seven years after their adventure ended and the desire for a mother figure in her life after not having that guiding figure for the last 27 years. Morena had said all was forgiven seeing how happy Gale was, but Auroria couldn't shake the feeling that she should always try harder.

She walked into their small kitchen from the cozy bedroom, seeing Gale already hard at work preparing the ingredients - eggs, sugar, flour, chocolate, butter. She walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder. 

"We're supposed to bake this together, dear husband."

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "You know, I never tire of being called that.”

“Good, because I will never tire of calling you that,” she smiled and stood beside him, looking at the neat countertop, everything in its place. “Let’s do this the old fashioned way, no magic.”

“Not even a little?” He looked flabbergasted. 

She shook her head. “No, it’ll mean more if it’s completely handmade. Besides, where is the fun if you don’t get a little messy every now and then?”

“Alright, alright, I surrender. You win again.” He laughed and kissed her softly, the spoon that was magically keeping the chocolate stirred, warm, and melted now laying still in the bowl. 

The pair got to work, Gale naturally taking the lead and instructing Auroria, who did most of the labor - mixing up the butter and sugar, adding the eggs, the chocolate, and finally the flour. Gale poured the batter into the cake tins and set them into their small oven. She stood with her hands on her hips, proud of the work they did and how well they worked together, even on this small project. Her previous demons were becoming smaller and smaller each time she came home. She loved what she and Gale had become.

“Not bad, we make a good team.”

“That we do, we hardly even made a mess..." He trailed off, surveying his beautiful wife, who had somehow gotten cake batter on both of her cheeks and the small sliver of skin showing at her chest in the opening of her top. He walked up to her, leaning in and used a finger to wipe the batter off her cheek. “I take that back,” he said, “you are covered in chocolate, Ora.” He laughed as he licked the batter off his finger. 

She shrugged. “Baking is messy, does the batter taste good at least?”

He leaned in closer, kissing her other cheek, licking off the batter. “Delicious.” He kissed down her neck, hitting that one spot that she liked before kissing down to the opening in her neckline, licking the batter off her chest. 

Auroria gasped, her hands moving into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp as he worked his way back up the other side of her neck to her earlobe. She tilted her head as he whispered, “I should see if you have batter anywhere else, my love.” She felt him tugging up the hem of her shirt, and she gladly lifted her arms up to help him. His hands immediately went to her breasts, kneading them gently, feeling her nipples getting hard under his deft touch. He unlaced her pants, pushing them off her hips to the floor, leaving her naked. She left out a soft moan as he touched her, which only made him want her more. “I need you, Ora. Now.”

“Hmm, first I think I need to make sure you didn’t get any chocolate on you, don’t you think?” She smiled, tugging at his shirt, knowing he didn’t have anything on him, but wanting to tease him just the same. She had never seen him take off his clothes more quickly - well, except maybe that first night in the Shadow Cursed Lands or the first Midwinter they reunited. She looked at him, his body softer with age and comfort though still athletic and absolutely, devastatingly perfect. The orb was now a faint scarring of lighter skin, mostly hidden by his chest hair. As her eyes traveled over his body, she saw exactly how much he desired her. 

“Sadly, I’m afraid you are perfectly clean, my love,” she said before closing the distance between them, kissing him deeply, reaching down to wrap her hands around him, already hard, and felt him groan into her mouth as she started to stroke him. He guided her back to the countertop as they kissed, then she felt his hands on her waist, lifting her up onto the countertop, still covered in flour. 

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers as his hand slid its way down her hips between her legs, rubbing her, feeling her wet for him already. “Gods how did I get so lucky? Look at you, it’s all I can do not to be inside you all day. I want you, please let me have you,” he practically panted, a finger sliding inside her. She loved his fingers for many reasons, but the way they knew exactly how to play her made her wonder if Gale was a musician in a past life. She arched her back, moaning softly. 

“Then have me, Gale. Have me.”

Gale wasted no time. His hands went to her hips, pulling her forward on the countertop so she was at the very edge before wrapping a hand around his hard cock, lining it up at her entrance before pushing it in slowly. He would never tire of this - feeling the way she gave around him, taking him in. A perfect fit. As he entered her fully, all thoughts left him, as they usually did. He lightly bit down on her shoulder as he held her legs apart, thrusting slowly at first, then picking up speed. The sound of their bodies hitting together and their soft pants and grunts the only noise in the small cabin. 

“I will admit I don’t think I will last long, my dear. You feel too good this morning,” he panted, fucking her harder, feeling the familiar tension in his abdomen as he got closer to release. He could feel her tightening around him, knowing she was close as well. Knowing he could bring her to her own precipice this quickly helped spur him on. He reached between them, his fingers circling her clit, rubbing that precious bundle of nerves he loved to pay special attention to. 

She cried out as he rubbed her, holding onto his arms tightly. “Make me come with you,” she panted 

He fucked her hard, each stroke punctuated as he almost pulled out of her before slamming back in, keeping a good pace. He knew she liked it when he was steady. He felt her tightening up, her body going still. She was almost there. He leaned in. “Come for me Ora, I want to feel you around me, then I want to come deep inside you.”

His filthy words, his warm breath on her ear sent her over the edge. She gripped on to him, crying out loudly as her body tightened up and let go, orgasm rocking through her, feeling him fuck her through it. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, his strokes picking up speed as she came, his groans getting louder as he got closer and closer before he found his own release, crashing into her, spilling his seed deep inside her. He finally slowed down, a satisfied exhaustion creeping into his bones as he laid his head on her shoulder, laughing as he looked at her - she was covered in flour handprints, and he assumed he was as well.

“We should bake together more often,” she teased before he kissed her again.

[hanasnx]

parasomnia

MINORS DNI 18+ WORD COUNT: 0.6k NOTES: this is based on a real-life occurrence. i want to stress this is not an infringement upon anyone’s boundaries in this drabble, reader only sees it as an issue at first because she doesn’t understand what’s actually going on. but as soon as her and anakin understand it together, hes able to give her consent to follow through with it unless she doesnt want to. | even when reader is following through and allowing unconscious anakin to have his way with her, anakin never sees it as an issue bcos hes a somnophiliac and hes def said its fine to hop on his dick in the middle of the night if the urge is that bad WARNINGS: f reader | smutty material | sexsomnia | at one point he tries to make her give him a bj (in his sleep) and she doesnt want to and doesnt know hes asleep so shes mad and when he wakes up he has no idea he did it | somnophilia in a way i think | vag fingering mention | humping mention

ANAKIN SKYWALKER had gone his entire life not knowing. He’s only ever shared a bed with you during his adult life. For a time, you didn’t even think to mention it— which continues to boggle his mind.

Everyone’s had wet dreams, some even sleepwalk. In Anakin’s rare case, his muscle memory recreates sexual events in which he has no recollection the following day.

At first, you didn’t realize he’d been asleep. When he touched you so deliberately; took hold of your hips to hump you to his heart’s desire; even going as far as to stick his hand down your pants in search of your sex… he would even speak during it sometimes. It was near impossible for you to deduce he wasn’t conscious.

It simply wasn’t plausible in your brain that he could, quite literally, finger you to completion in his sleep.

The occurrence that blew the case wide open, was the day Anakin went to bed early. When you joined him, he’d said a couple words to you. The standard exchanges, how tired he was and that he’s happy you’re with him now. You were sat upright, rearranging the covers he’d disheveled. As soon as you settled in, about to lay down, Anakin did the unexpected. In a swift motion, he tugged down his pants and palmed the back of your head, directing you downwards to his exposed cock.

You dodged out of the way, and because of its suddenness, you were maddened to say the least. There was no warning, no ask for consent, how could he do that? You shoved him, not registering how his arm now lay dead at his side, and his closed eyes were turned away from you.

Once awoken, you questioned him of his recent actions, but he had no memory of it. The situation caused the both of you to keep an eye on such a thing.

It only exacerbated. The longer you two spent together, the more you copulated, hammering in those exact movements until even his subconscious is imprinted. He’d instigated actual coitus several times, only to slow to a stop once exerting enough to rouse himself. Halted mid-thrust, he gains a clarity in his eyes that is unmistakable, and you mentally smack your forehead every time while he remains rooted inside you. Both of you feel the need to explain yourselves, as if you’d done wrong when it’s not your fault he’s so damn convincing and it’s not his fault he’s capable of something like this.

It took you a while to understand the difference between how he initiated sex conscious and unconsciously. You’d exhausted him with your questions during a time he really was awake. Interrogating him with nonsensical inquiries that would let you know he was consenting to this truly. To the point that Anakin had to cover your mouth so he could fuck your hole in peace.

It’d gotten so frequent, that Anakin believed his body to be seeking satiation for a purpose. Perhaps he’s not as fulfilled as he thought, physicality is very important to him, but he never suspected he craved it even during rest. So, he told you, that there’s no need to check his presence. If you’re into it, let him fuck you. Occasionally, he gets lucky enough to awaken in the middle of it to a most pleasant surprise.

[z-eel]

jobs the marauders (and co) would have if they were normal ass people pt.3 (final);

part 1 | part 2

Pandora is the owner of a small business, and she sells anything and everything. it's like a shop of oddities, but the oddity is her. she'll do tarot reading and cleaning. she'll have haunted dolls and cursed artifacts. handmade jewelry and taxidermy animals (she likes the one where small rodents are doing actual human things (her absolute favorite is the one of the mice getting married). she marketed as a gift shop (no one knows why) she also rarely has customers (no one's sure how she's still open). she's the sole employee and she loves coming in and reorganizing her store (it's never organized) and absolutely loves to invite her friend over for tea (they don't like having tea in the store). she goes all out during Halloween, and she makes her most sell then. she's recently gotten a giant rabbit who she keeps at the store windows (people are coming into the store for the rabbit and leave with a spelled candle and taxidermy raccoon, business is doing great).

Evan has one of two jobs, he's either a tattoo artist who known for he really elaborate works or he's a surgeon (i'm thinking general surgeon but he would definitely go on to be a heart surgeon). now for the sake of new content (because we always see tattoo artist Evan), we're going to say surgeon. Evan is most definitely known for having unnaturally steady hands, like they never shake, which is good for being a surgeon, you know. he likes to joke around with his patients, and you always see him smiling when he's talking to one of the nurses, but in that surgery room, he's a different person. Evan's not the best surgeon, but he's good. people keep asking for him because he makes a lasting impact on the patients. he likes to hear people's stories and likes to see how they grow as individual. he also knows Remus. they met a few times because he's been his interpreter and a couple other time because he's been Evan's patient (they go out to drink from time to time)

Barty is a tattoo artist, (no he doesn't own his shop and yes he does hate his boss but he's the only one who won't give shit for being a shit) he's completely covered in tattoo but it's not even in a cool way. it's clear that most of the shit he has came straight from a high teenager who had no slef control, but he makes up for them by having a few good pieces. Barty's also a part-time sex worker, but like not actually a sex worker, more in like 'twenty bucks is twenty bucks' kinda way. he mostly deals. you'll never catch with the hard stuff, but know that he sells. had his hand severely broken because of a deal gone bad, and he needed surgery. (you can guess who was his doctor) it's still bothers him even after its healed (or so he claims, he just wants to see Evan (don't worry yall he's on his dad's insurance))

Regulus does not work. he's a rich boy, the closest thing he's gotten to work is carrying his own shoping bags, I'm kidding but I'm not. like Regulus doesn't work in the same way every else does. Regulus just does what ever hobby he's currently enjoying. he plays piano w/ an orchestra, he's a ghost writer, makes michelin star meals for his friends. like if he wants to do somthing he just does it. no limits, no restrictions. he's just that much of a rich boy and I love him for it. if anything i feel that he's just a clueless as James is with what he wants to do so he decides late one night that he's going to apply for an internship at every big company (guess who accepted his application) Barty thinks he's stupid and Pandora is excited for him to enter this new chapter of his life.

yeah, I think imma have to write this into a story. (if yall want to use any of what I've written for your own stories/headcanons, feel free to so)

[linkspooky]

ON MADELYNE PRYOR

Shout out to all the comic book stans who follow my blog.

So X-Men 97 inspired me to do a re-read of X-Men from the beginning. My previous read of X-Men jumped all over the place, it was basically X-Men up to Dark Phoenix and then I jumped all the way to the 2000s to 2010s. In my current read I just got to Inferno and holy fuck mom, I never thought I'd like an X-Men arc more than Dark Phoenix but here we are.

This is an entirely personal opinion which I'm not as good at expressing because I prefer over-intellectualizing my feelings, but Inferno is the only other comic book arc to make me feel the way that Judas Cotract did in how tightly and perfectly written as a tragedy it is especially for the female at its center.

Are there any women in all of fiction more doomed by the narrative than Terra Markov and Madelyne Pryor?

I mean I've written about Judas Contract before but what makes that arc so special to me is how it's about a character, a victim, a girl named Terra who by all rights should have been saved by the heroes, but not only fails every step of the way but at every point in her life really. Terra is someone how manifests her victimhood in completely unsympathetic ways but the fact that she basically had no chance in life makes her sympathetic nonetheless.

This comes from the decision that Perez and Wolfram made right from the start to kill her off and never offer her any redemption, which while incredibly callous on the author's part just makes the tragedy even stronger. That's what tragedy is, it's meat to reflect the cruelty and unfairness of life, it's kind of like reality bleeding into fiction.

George’s strength was he also understood the characters 100 percent as I did so there was never any question. He knew. We had talked enough about the characters to know we were exactly on the same page with them. So I said, “Everyone keeps complaining that we’re like the X-Men” and the X-Men had just gotten Kitty Pryde. I said, “Why don’t we really screw around with them completely?” — this is the fans — “…and make them think we’re stealing Kitty Pryde only she’s gonna be bad from Day One.” You always had characters pop up, certainly at Marvel, who were bad that get redeemed. But this character would never get redeemed. She was insane. In fact, she was the catalyst for everything. She wasn’t working for Deathstroke. He was working for her in many ways and she was leading him because she’s crazy. She’s a total psychopath… and she’d be 15. 

Terra's a total psychopath and she's fifteen and that's the tragedy. Was there really any other way that Terra could have turned out? A girl who has been abandoned, who was given incredible powers but no love, support, or nurturing and clearly doesn't have a home or any stability in her life if she's working as a mercenary at that young. A girl who thinks herself a villain and a player in the game but is clearly being manipulated by a fifty plus year old man who is smarter, more mature, and a serial user and abuser of people.

Terra's not just the villain, she's the protagonist of the tragedy walking through the play unknowing that her every single decision will lead to her inevitable end.

Judas Cotract and Inferno are two arcs that most evoke the feel of the Tower in Tarot to me. The Tower is just, ruin and destruction, a complete loss of control, the realization that everything you thought was wrong and in fact the world doesn't care much about what you think. It's a reminder that life isn't even cruel, it's nothing, it's random.

However, first you have to build up the tower before you start pulling the jenga blocks out one by one. Terra spends several arcs with the Teen Titans showing disturbing unchildlike behavior, but one of the so-called Heroes even notice that there's something wrong. When she does get close to blowing her cover, a violent incident where she nearly badly hurts Beast Boy after he comes onto her way too hard which is an understandable reaction as a victim of SA that gets brushed under the rug too.

It makes the heroes look worse as well. If they were heroes dedicated to saving people at all costs shouldn't they have noticed the trouble of someone right next to them? Yet, they all kind of collectively remain oblivious the same way that most victims in real life especially of Terra's kind of trauma are left to suffer in silence. Not to say the Teen Titans are bad, they are kids, and therefore it makes sense they don't have the emotional maturity to notice - it just makes them look more human.

So to summarize my point above what makes Judas Contract is a good tragedy and why Inferno makes me feel the same way narrows down to two reasons.

Madelyne and Terra are both doomed by the narrative, there was no saving them right from the beginning.

However, the fact that the heroes failed to save them reflects poorly on them.

Finally, Madelyne Pryor.

Oh Madelyne the world did you so dirty. I'm partially to blame because I skipped right to the 2000s in my first read, but before this point I'd known nothing about Madelyne other than that she was a clone of Jean Grey who died.

My first impressions of her when she was introduced shortly after Dark Phoenix weren't all that great either. Chris Claremont writes good female characters, that's not really a hot take. I'm sure you've heard of Storm, Rogue, Mystique, Kitty Pryde, Emma Frost etc.

However, I've noticed there are like two tiers of female characters he tends to write. There are the first stringers which are your storms, your rogues, these are characters who are meant to be independent and have arcs. Then there are the second stringers who are just meat to serve a role in the story. This isn't a criticism on the way Claremont writes women, I mean all stories have major and minor characters.

Madelyne Pryor was never meant to be a main character. There wasn't anything about her character that I disliked per se, she is independent, she seemed to have a life outside of Cyclops, she tries really hard to separate herself from the image of Jean Grey. However, she was clearly written to give Cyclops a wife and child in the aftermath of Jean's death and a reason to retire.

While the editorial mandate that made Claremont pull Cyclops out of his happy ending so he could rejoin a team with the original five x-men for the sake of nostalgia sucks, it is also the best thing to happen to Madelyne's character.

Madelyne before that point was a perfectly functional character for her role but she wasn't all that dynamic, she liked planes, she didn't like Jean's ghost hanging over her, she's pretty spunky and headstrong but she was at most a good supporting character but that's all she was. Claremont just decided to double down on that, Scott actually treats his wife like she exists to do nothing but support him and his emotional issues. Madelyne gives all the support that she can give and then Scott just up and leaves anyway. The woman who only existed to be a love interest to give Scott a happy ending, now has no other reason to exist without the man she's supposed to love and her happy ending turns to ash in her mouth.

This is the same feeling I was talking about with Terra, this is a person who was basically failed at every step of the way. A person who has no family. no support, it's almost worse in this case because Madelyne thought she did only for that person to toss her aside.

There's no saving Madelyne, and the fact that Scott didn't save her, that he didn't both trying until he was too late makes him the villain.

If anything Inferno is better than Judas Contract at dragging the heroes down to their lowest points, because The Teen Titans failing to save Terra is understandable because of how young they are but there's no excusing Scott's actions. Madelyne may run around in a skimpy outfit calling herself the goblin queen but the villain of this story is named Scott Summers. He had a responsibility and obligation towards Madelyne to save her and he failed, and it makes him a bad hero and an even worse person.

One of the key components of a tragedy is also agency. Agency is basically the freedom a character has to choose and how much their choices matter in the grand scheme of things and impact their narratives.

Tragedies are often defined by how little agency the characters are shown to have, and how limited their range of choices are. One of the biggest themes of tragedy is fate and inevitability at all. For example one of my favorite tragedies antigone is about a girl with very little power in the ancient greek city of Thebes who still makes a choice to give her brother a proper burial even though she knows she'll be executed for it.

Dark Phoenix is all about agency. Jean Grey is dealing with three different forces trying to take her mind, her agency. There's the corrupting influence of Phoenix, there's the Hellfire Club who wants to make her into a puppet, and then there's Charles Xavier who wants to put a lid on her tremendous powers. Everyone trying to take agency away from Jean eventually leads her to snap and try to take all of that agency back by embracing godhood because who has more agency, more control than a god? Even Jean's act of killing herself at the end was reclaiming her agency, it's her choice to die as a human rather than be executed, or to lose herself to the phoenix.

What breaks Madelyne is not Scott leaving her. Which made me like her character a lot, like the moment Scott left Madelyne was shown just how stubborn and determined she was. Madelyne stood out as the only normal human amongst the x-men who still held her own like Moira did (i guess Moira is a mutant now but I'm still in the 80s so w/e).

What breaks her is the revelation that she never had any agency in her life to begin with. Scott was always meant to fall in love with her, he was always meant to leave her, because she was nothing more than a womb for Sinister's breeding project. Once again it's masterful how Scott looks equally as villainous as Sinister in this scenario in how neither of them regards Madelyne as a person, just an object to project their desires upon.

(Honestly Jean Grey doesn't come out looking all that great either considering how little sympathy she has for Madelyne because she just sees her as an obstacle to getting back together with Scott. If anyone Jean should sympathize with Madelyne the most because they've both been toyed with cosmic forces out of their control, but I guess it goes to show how selfish and destructive Jean and Scott's love for each can be).

Is there any sequence more tragic in all of comics than this series of panels?

The symbolism in these panels too and how it relates to the themes of agency with Madelyne's character. Madelyne was a free and self-driven woman (or at least she thought she was) living out her dream of being a pilot which to her the ability to fly her wings represents her freedom and indepedence. The only thing she thought that could make her happier was Scott, but in the end not only did Scott take her wings away, he took away her everything and gave it to someone else.

"Time to lose those wings, Maddie. You can't really fly, anyway. You're not special like us."

If there's any words to express the inherent tragedy of Maddie's character is this, she's a person who thought she was free to fly, that she was real, that her life mattered only to have all that taken away from her. Maddie like Terra thinks she has agency that she's making decisions but she had no real choices from the beginning.

That's also a good way to express what makes tragedies hit as hard as they do. Tragedies slap you with the realization that you're not special. The hero is not a hero, they don't have plot armor, they're not immune to consequences, they're human and just like all humans they fail.

Even the act that Madelyne thinks is reclaiming her agency by gaining power as the Goblin Queen is in fact, not her choice. She doesn't choose to sell her soul, she's tricked into doing it by a rebellious demon that wants to kick Illyana out and reclaim limbo for himself. In Madelyne's one act of trying to steal back her power and freedom she is still just a pawn in another person's scheme.

There's also Madelyne going through literal hell itself to reclaim her son, only to make the decision to sacrifice him along with several other infants which seems to make her usympathetic but ironically makes her more sympathetic to me.

There's the obvious reference to Medea there. If all the parallels aren't obvious enough already, Jason and the Argonauts gets namedropped during the arc.

One of my favorite things about Medea the tragedy by Euripedes is that Medea is not just a girlboss who gets revenge on Jason and then walks away. Straightforward revenge narratives are bad because revenge is... bad actually. The decision to inflict more pain and suffering in the world doesn't break the chain of suffering.

Medea kills her children to show that Jason is not entirely in the wrong, and Medea is not entirely in the right. They are two human beings who's relationship is blowing up in the worst way possible. I mean Jason himself does have some points in the play, he's making a political marriage to save both of them, the only reason he's exiling Medea is because Medea made loud death threats at Jason's new bride. It's not just the heartbreak of being abandoned that drives Medea, it's her pride, the whole play started because Medea didn't want to settle for being a side chick.

Medea wants revenge against Jason but she doesn't take her revenge on Jason, she takes revenge on everyone around him for the purpose of making him feel as alone and lost as he did her. She'll kill her own children, even if it kills her to do so, just to spite him a little more.

Which leads to one of my favorite scenes in all of fiction, Medea holding the knife over her own child's throat, bargaining with herself trying to convince herself to do something she objectively knows is wrong.

MEDEA I’ve made up my mind, my friends. I’ll do it—kill my children now, without delay, and flee this land. I must not hesitate. That would hand them over to someone else to be slaughtered by a hand less loving.                                      No matter what, the children have to die. Since that’s the case, then I, who gave them life,                                will kill them. Arm yourself for this, my heart. Why do I put off doing this dreadful act, since it must be done? Come, pick up the sword, wretched hand of mine. Pick up the sword, move to where your life of misery begins. Don’t play the coward. Don’t remember now how much you love them, how you gave them life. For this short day forget they are your children                          and mourn them later. Although you kill them, still you loved them. As a woman, I’m so sad.     

Why would Madelyne after going through all that trouble to find her son, instead choose to give him to the fire? It's because for a person who was given so little choice over her own life, the choice to self-destruct is still a choice. The choice to destroy something with your own hands rather than let it be destroyed for someone else is still a choice.

That would hand them over to someone else to be slaughtered by a hand less loving.                                      No matter what, the children have to die. Since that’s the case, then I, who gave them life,                                will kill them.

I think I may like Madelyne more than Jean at this point?

The same way I like Terra more than Raven. They're very similiar characters, but it takes possession by Trigon to get Raven to attack the titans. Terra just tries to kill them by her own free will. She's willing to bury herself if it gives her one last chance at burying the titans to too. Madelyne on the other hand is willing to walk barefoot into hell, if it means she can drag Scott and the X-Men with her. Jean does things under the influence of the Phoenix, but she chose to die as a human being at the end of Dark Phoenix. Madelyne however made the opposite choice, throwing all her humanity away she gave herself wholly and unreservedly to the fire.

Also damn, x-men 97 did this arc so dirty by speedrunning through it in one episode. This is also one of the most well set-up arcs in the X-Men comics with so many threads like X-Factor, X-Men and New Mutants all coming together. It really deserved its own season not like 2 episodes, and then Madelyne dying halfway through this season.