#it almost feels like that little child me was terribly wronged

[mishkakagehishka]

Sometimes you just have to think about tween you and cry it out

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[stromblessed]

Mizu, femininity, and fallen sparrows

In my last post about Mizu and Akemi, I feel like I came across as overly critical of Mizu given that Mizu is a woman who - in her own words - has to live as a man in order to go down the path of revenge.

If she is ever discovered to be female by the wrong person, she will not only be unable to complete her quest, but there's a good chance that she'll be arrested or killed.

So it makes complete sense for Mizu to distance herself as much as possible from any behavior that she feels like would make someone question her sex.

I felt so indignant toward Mizu on my first couple watchthroughs for this moment. Why couldn't Mizu bribe the woman and her child's way into the city too? If Mizu is presenting as a man, couldn't she claim to be the woman's escort?

However, this moment makes things pretty clear. Mizu knows all too well the plight of women in her society. She knows it so well that she cannot risk ever finding herself back in their position again. She helps in what little way she can - without drawing attention to herself.

Mizu is not a hero and she is not one to make of herself a martyr - she will not set herself on fire to keep others warm. There's room to argue that Mizu shouldn't prioritize her quest over people's lives, but given the collateral damage Mizu can live with in almost every episode of season 1, Mizu is simply not operating under that kind of morality at this point. ("You don't know what I've done to reach you," Mizu tells Fowler.)

And while I still feel like Mizu has an obvious and established blind spot when it comes to Akemi because of their differences in station, such that Mizu's judgment of Akemi and actions in episode 5 are the result of prejudice rather than the result of Mizu's caution, I also want to establish that Mizu is just as caged as Akemi is, despite her technically having more freedom while living as a man.

Mizu can hide her mixed race identity some of the time, and she can hide her sex almost all of the time, but being able to operate outside of her society's strict rules for women does not mean she cannot see their plight.

It does not mean she doesn't hurt for them.

Back to Mizu and collateral damage, remember that sparrow?

While Mizu is breaking into Boss Hamata's manse, she gets startled by a bird and kills it on reflex. She then cradles it in her hands - much more tenderly than we've seen Mizu treat almost anything up to this point in the season:

She then puts it in its nest, with its unhatched eggs. Almost like she's trying to make the death look natural. Or like an accident.

You see where I'm going with this.

When Mizu kills Kinuyo, Mizu lingers in the moment, holding the body tenderly:

And btw a lot of stuff about this show hit me hard, but this remains the biggest gut punch of them all for me, Mizu holding that poor girl's body close, GOD

When Mizu arranges the "scene of the crime," Kinuyo's body is delicate, birdlike. And Mizu is so shaken afterward that she gets sloppy. She's horrified at this kill to the point that she can't bring herself to take another innocent life - the boy who rats her out.

MIZU'S ONE MOMENT OF SOFTNESS AND MERCY, COMING ON THE HEELS OF HER NEEDING TO KILL A GIRL TO SPARE HER THE WORST FATE THAT THIS RIGID SOCIETY HAS TO OFFER WOMEN, AND TO SPARE A BROTHEL FULL OF INNOCENT WOMEN WHO ARE THE CASTOFFS OF SOCIETY, NEARLY RESULTS IN ALL OF THEIR DEATHS

No wonder Mizu is as stoic and cold as she is.

And no wonder Mizu has no patience for Akemi whatsoever right before the terrible reveal and the fight breaks out:

Speaking of Akemi - guess who else is compared to a bird!

The plumage is more colorful, a bit flashier. But a bird is a bird.

And, uh

Yeah.

I like to think that Mizu killing the sparrow is not only foreshadowing for what she must do to Kinuyo, but is also a representation of the choice she makes on Akemi's behalf. She decides to cage the bird because she believes the bird is "better off." Better off caged than... dead.

But because Mizu doesn't know Akemi or her situation, she of course doesn't realize that the bird is fated to die if it is caged and sent back home.

Mizu is clearly not happy, or pleased, or satisfied by allowing Akemi to be dragged back to her father:

But softness and mercy haven't gotten Mizu anywhere good, recently.

There is so much tragedy layered into Mizu's character, and it includes the things she has to witness and the choices she makes - or believes she has to make - involving women, when she herself can skirt around a lot of what her society throws at women. Although, I do believe that it comes at the cost of a part of Mizu's soul.

After all, I'm gonna be haunted for the rest of this show by Mizu's very first prayer in episode 1:

"LET" her die. Because as Ringo points out, she doesn't "know how" to die.

Kind of like another bird in this show:

[endearng]

Stranger danger

Pairing: Spencer Reid x single mom!reader Summary: The power goes out. You and your daughter leave your apartment to find some light. Luckily, a stranger floods your being with it. WC: 2.1k Warnings: reader is scared of the dark; light mentions to stranger danger; it's a meet cute (guilty). Let me know if I missed anything. A/N: HI!!! I couldn't sleep so I decided to finish and post this one. I hope you guys enjoy it. Totally planning on a sequel for these three. Feedbacks are highly welcomed and appreciated. <3 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Spencer Reid was the most unnoticed and absent tenant of his building. His apartment was almost eerily quiet during most of the time, because of two main reasons. One, he was out of town often because of his job, of course, and, two, he didn't do much when he was there. He was a man who kept to himself whose idea of fun consisted of reading classic Literature. And don't take it the wrong way; not being around much didn't mean that he disliked his place, it was quite the opposite. He thoroughly enjoyed having a space to call his own, to organize, to cramp up the areas just the way he liked it. It gave him a sense of comfort, even though it felt lonely more often than not.

One of his neighbors had a child, he could tell that much because of the noises he would hear when he was around — while playing or the whining when she wanted something, after all, that's how kids usually behave. Spencer didn't mind them, of course, he was away for most of the time, so it wouldn't be rational to be bothered by a child acting like one. It was like being annoyed by an adult acting out, which did happen, but adults were supposed to be more self-aware than kids.

Although fairly acquainted with the routine of the family by putting pieces together from time to time (something his brain couldn't help but do, almost automatically), he had never seen their faces. He knew their voices and could even tell their footsteps apart. Sometimes, he would think about them. How did their day go, if everything was alright, if they ever addressed uncomfortable topics, if they ever had problems like his own frequently faced after they discovered about his mother's condition. He was acutely aware of the fact that those thoughts were the results of some sort of projection, almost like those neighbors were his personal novel to read and he longed to relate to its characters, because so much of his childhood had been ripped from him in ways he worried he could never recover from and terribly soon — he didn't remember ever knowing the sense of a loving, ordinary family like they apparently did and lived.

Today was a day off. He sat on his balcony, the summer breeze kissing his skin and messing up his hair, writing a letter to his mother. He tried his best to remain true to the commitment of making her a part of his life as a way to ease the guilt and sadness that gnawed at him for not being capable of caring for her properly by himself. He dearly missed Diana, he was his mother, after all. The only one who stood by him, even if not at her best, the only family he had left.

Satisfied with his writing, he finished the letter with a promise that he'd visit her soon. As he was folding the paper to put it inside the envelope, everything went black. The light left completely and, for a moment, he thought he had fainted because of the suddenness of it. That's when he heard the shrieking coming from the apartment next door and with a small chuckle, he deduced it was a power outage.

"Oookay, we don't need to panic, Oli, right? The light will be back in a few moments," he heard from the balcony next to his. It was the mother's voice, surely.

"Mommy, 'm scared," the little girl, Olivia, cried.

"I know, baby, but mommy is right here," was the answer provided, followed by the sound of a loud and exaggerated kiss. He heard the little girl giggle. "That's better, sweetie. Come on, let's talk. How are you feeling?"

"'m scared, but happy that you're here, mommy," she said.

"I'm happy to be with you, too, my girl," the woman cooed.

Spencer all but listened to the sweet interaction close to him. Unbeknownst to the woman, he held it even closer to his heart. It was one of the purest forms of love he had ever witnessed and he was grateful for them both during that time.

You, on the other hand, felt panic rising in your chest as the minutes passed and the dark still engulfed you, your little girl's voice the only comfort soothing you from time to time. Olivia was really scared of the dark, so as time went by, you tried to assure her that there was nothing to be scared of, and even if she was, she shouldn't feel embarrassed, that it was okay to express those feelings and that you were there for her. You were glad that she trusted you enough to believe those empty words, because you were terrified of the dark.

It all started as a kid. Not knowing what could be lurking in the shadows absolutely freaked you out and admiting it out loud was mortifying, so you did your best to hide it. If your daughter's reaction was anything to go by, you were doing a good job, so you relished on that.

Right now, it was becoming more and more difficult to play the part of the brave, fearless mother. So you started singing, soon enough followed by your daughter.

Super trouper lights are gonna blind me

But I won't feel blue like I always do

'Cause somewhere in the crowd there's you

Olivia giggled. It was one of her favorite songs, you had introduced it to her when she was too shy before one of her recitals. She had only memorized the chorus, of course. You were forever thankful for having that song engraved in your memory, because now the footage you had from said recital had Olivia showing all her moves looking right at you, basically all of the time.

"Oli, what do you think of going to the lobby? Maybe we could find some friends there." You suggested, which made Spencer's interest rise. Could it be a chance for him to finally address faces to the family he almost felt a part of?

For someone so bright, he truly didn't know if he was overstepping or being obsessive, it just made sense to him. Like aforementioned, he felt like it was a novel.

He heard little hands clapping excitedly and heard the next door opening and then closing right after. He used the time to think if he was behaving like the creeps he profiled for a living, but decided to give himself some credit by realizing he didn't mean to do no harm, he was just curious.

As time went by, the lobby soon became crowded with people and basically everyone had a flashlight on. It made Spencer laugh internally. He searched the area for a woman and a little kid, but no success. The room was so packed it almost felt suffocating and for a moment he felt ridiculous for considering searching a room for someone whose face he wasn't familiar with. What was he thinking? His mother always said that his job should stay out of his personal life and he had yet to learn that. So, he decided to go outside for a breath of fresh air.

What he didn't expect was to find a woman and a little girl sitting on the benches just outside the apartment complex. Their voices sounded exactly like the ones he had been noticing for some time now. He froze, unable to look away from them.

The girl had her mother's features. They were so scarily alike that it felt like he was watching the same person during different periods of her life, but simultaneously, as if he was on some sort of time travel.

He was ripped out of his daydreams when the little girl came running towards him, "Look, mommy! He has a letter! You send them to grandpa!"

Although very embarrassed by your daughter's sudden run, you jumped on your feet to catch up with her. You didn't know that man, so it only made sense to be very alert and to keep your child away from him. As you neared the two of them, you placed your hands on Oli's shoulders, who was standing in front of him, you took in his appearance. He was tall, a little lanky and had long-ish hair, cut just around his shoulders. He had dress pants and a shirt loosely buttoned up as well. His eyes were searching your face, as if he was scanning you as well. The poor lighting didn’t help either of you, but you two were almost touching with your eyes, if such a thing were possible, from how much you were looking, almost admiring each other.

Amid his thoughts from earlier, he didn't even realize he was still holding the letter he had written that afternoon.

"Hi," you greeted, a little awkwardly, "I'm sorry. She’s still learning about stranger danger. Or bothering people." You chuckled, nervously.

What the hell have you just said?

"Actually, stranger danger did the most harm to this country in terms of crimes like that. I remember them coming to my classroom. It was Officer Friendly with stranger danger coloring books. Taught a whole generation about a scary man in a trench coat, hiding behind a tree. Then we learned that strangers are only a fraction of the offenders out there." He rambled.

What the hell has he just said?

You knitted your eyebrows together, perceiving his comment as peculiar, to say the least. "Well, yeah."

"Sorry about that. I tend to ramble about some topics. I'm not a creep, I swear. I work with the FBI, I know it can be odd to start a conversation like that. Well, your daughter did," he chuckled, albeit tensely, "My name's Spencer. Spencer Reid. I live in this building. Third floor."

You laughed a little over his rambling, relief flooding your body once you realized that he was just a regular guy. A regular guy that worked for the FBI. You told him your name and Olivia's as he offered you a friendly handshake, "Me and Olivia live there, too."

"MOMMY!" Olivia shouted, sounding exasperated and thrilled at the same time. "He is the ghost neighbor!"

"Ghost neighbor?" He asked, shocked and a little humored.

You laughed at your daughter and the confusion adorning his beautiful features. "Oli, don't scream. We already talked about it," you addressed your daughter, firmly but gently. Spencer was in awe. "It's just an inside joke between the kids. You're almost never home and every once in a while they hear some sounds coming from your apartment. They say a ghost lives there. They even put up some decorations on your front door on Halloween, but I decided to remove it in case it bothered you."

Olivia laughed like someone had spilled a funny secret and Spencer quickly joined her. You chuckled, even though you were more puzzled than anything by the fact that your daughter had approached, so confidently, a stranger. It made you both terrified and happy. Terrified because he could be a weirdo. Happy because she was able to come out of her shell. Even happier to see her coming out of her shell with a nice stranger.

"It’s alright. I wouldn’t have minded. I love Halloween.” He said, addressing you. You could tell then that, at least, he wasn’t someone bitter. “Sorry to disappoint, Miss Olivia. It's just me moving some chairs every now and then. But I won't tell if you won't."

"I won't!" She squealed, and Spencer smiled. You couldn't draw your eyes away from their exchange. Olivia balled her small fists on your skirt, pulling you out of your reverie, so you crouched down at her height. She whispered something in your ear. Spencer watched, curiously, as you nodded at her.

"She said you need a pinky promise." You told him once you were standing again. Spencer gladly crouched and stuck out his pinky towards Olivia, who intertwined her own with his.

"Now we can't tell anybody." He said, with a genuine smile on her face.

"Mommy, you hafta promise it too." Olivia said, grabbing your hand and pulling your pinky toward Spencer's hand, linking them together. You felt the heat rising to your face.

The power came back. Suddenly, your pinky was linked to a very handsome man who you had just met because of your one-of-a-kind daughter. It made you nervous, because the light highlighting his beautiful features in all the right places made you feel like a deer caught in the headlights. By looking at him alone, you thought of words related to the light four times. As he looked back at you with a gorgeous smile on his face, you finally understood why people associate light with feelings.

[lowkeyremi]

YOU’RE DOING GREAT, MAMA !

pairing: ushijima x fem!reader note: this has been in my drafts foreverrrr. it’s finally seeing the world thank God. i need to write more abt toshi summary: your husband comforts you through postpartum depression. content: angst, fluff, bittersweet moments, marriage, implied pregnancy, reader doubts her ability to be a mother, etc

The three of you returned home after three days in the hospital. During those three days you haven’t really been yourself at all.

Your baby boy, Nao was born healthy and strong. He’s doing all the normal stuff a newborn should do, but for some reason when you look at his tiny face you feel dread pitted deeply in your stomach.

Shouldn’t you feel joy when you see your little baby’s face? A lump forms in your throat as you start to think of the worst outcomes. Are you… rejecting your child? There’s no way. You and your husband spent months waiting for little Nao’s arrival. You were so excited setting up his room and buying him stuff. The ultrasounds were also very amusing to look at.

None of that excitement remains right now. “You must be tired, honey. Since you’ve already nursed him I’ll put him to sleep.” Wakatoshi pulls you out of your saddening thoughts. He shoots you a look of worry, because you’re clutching your chest tight, like you’re struggling to breathe.

“O-okay. Thank you ‘Toshi.” A faux smile crosses your face just to try and reassure your husband. He walks off to Nao’s nursery with his baby carrier in hand, but you know that he knows you well enough to ask what’s wrong later.

While your husband put Nao to sleep you changed out of your clothes into some comfy pajamas and you head to the bathroom to pee, brush your teeth and wash your face.

As the minty paste foams in your mouth you start thinking about your son again and you don’t even notice that you’re crying until-

“Sweetheart, why are you crying?” His voice comes soft and he uses his big hands to wipe away your salty tears.

You spit out the toothpaste, and in a few seconds you’re rinsing your toothbrush and your mouth out.

“I’m not sure- I just- I-” you pause letting out a shuttering breath, how do you even explain something like this? “I’m not as excited about Nao as I had been before he was born…”

Wakatoshi engulfs you in a hug from behind. “I’ve noticed at the hospital how you didn’t want to hold him much.” He too pauses before continuing on, “I was reading into this a few months earlier, but many women get postpartum depression after their baby is born.”

“This doesn’t make any sense, we just brought a life into this world and I don’t even feel any excitement about it.” Wakatoshi rubs small comforting circles onto your stomach which hasn’t completely gone back to its normal size.

“‘Toshi am I a terrible mother already?” You ask looking at him through the mirror. His brows furrow at the suggestion and he shakes his head violently which almost cheers you up because it’s so out of character for him.

“Not at all. Please do not talk about yourself that way. You’re going to be an amazing mother. Just give it some time.” He’s telling the truth, Wakatoshi is nothing but brutally honest about things, so you have no choice but to believe him.

Although, everything feels like it’s not okay, you allow your husband to comfort you through these baby blues. It won’t last forever, you tell yourself, as you put your toothbrush back in the cup.

Wakatoshi kisses your temple, it’s so soft and delicate. “We’ve created a beautiful baby boy and he’s going to grow up with the most loving parents.” He means that too, Wakatoshi grew up in a divided household so it’s no wonder he wants his son to grow up in a household that’s warm and loving.

“You’re right, we’ll raise our baby boy the best we can. Thank you ‘Toshi. I really needed to hear that. I was starting to spiral.” He squeezes you in a hug again.

“It’s nothing, and if you ever feel yourself in these baby blues again, just let me know, so I can remind you that you’re a great mother.” What in the world did you do to deserve this man?

©𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐊𝐄𝐘𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

[punkshort]

Hard to Handle

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader one-shot

Summary: One year after Joel cheats on you and gets someone else pregnant, you run into him for the first time.

Warnings: pre-outbreak au, angst, language, infidelity, female rage, alcohol consumption, open/ hopeful ending but reader and Joel do not end up together

WC: 2.5K

Written for @tightjeansjavi's June writing challenge

"Guess who Neil saw at the pediatrician?"

You cracked open one eye and bringing your hand up to shield you from the sun, squinted over at your best friend, Kate. "Who?"

She grinned and sat up in her lounge chair. "Joel."

You made a face and closed your eyes again. "Don't care."

"He was all alone, Nate said. Looked like he was struggling to keep the baby quiet in the waiting room and he also said he looked tired as shit."

"Good."

"C'mon, aren't you the least bit curious?"

You made an exasperated noise and sat up in your chair to face her. "What's the point? He made his bed, he can lie in it."

Kate sighed and pulled out her phone. "Well, I was curious so I looked him up on Facebook and guess what?"

"I don't-"

"The bitch left him!" she exclaimed, showing you Joel's Facebook profile where it clearly stated his relationship status was single and the profile picture was an old one from high school. You snorted and shook your head.

"It's been almost a year, what do you want me to say?"

"I want you to feel happy that he's fucking miserable, that's what," Kate said, picking up the baby monitor at her feet and zooming in on the screen, checking to make sure her six month old was still asleep.

"Okay, fine. I'm happy he's fucking miserable," you replied before taking sip of your lemonade. "It's not fair to the baby, though."

"Oh, of course not," Kate said immediately, "but after what he did to you, you can't deny that this is karma kicking his ass."

You shrugged and looked down at your hands, picking at something imaginary underneath your nail. It had been almost a year since you left Joel. A full year when you found out, after being together since junior year in high school, that Joel had cheated on you and gotten someone else pregnant.

Well, found out probably isn't the right term. He flat out confessed one morning.

You had woken up and reached out for him, your hand running up and down his bare chest. You inched forward and buried your nose against his side, breathing in deep his natural, masculine scent before slowly dragging your hand underneath the covers to the waistband of his boxers. You didn't even realize he was awake yet until his hand suddenly shot out and stopped you.

"What's wrong?" you asked, sleep still permeating your voice.

"Nothin'."

You opened your eyes and looked up at him. He was wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

"Joel?"

He slowly turned his head to look at you and at the same time, one single tear slid from the corner of his eye. You scrambled up into a sitting position, panic singing in your veins.

"What's wrong?" you asked again, harsher this time. He swallowed and slowly sat up.

"I gotta tell you somethin'."

Your pulse began to race as all the possibilities ran through your mind, but what he said next was never what you had expected to hear.

"I slept with someone else and... she's pregnant."

You remembered in that moment it had felt like time stood still. The birds stopped chirping, the lawn mowers stopping running, the laughter outside your window ceased because the world as you knew it just ended.

After that, your memory was a little hazy.

You were sure you said some terrible things as you packed up all your belongings in a rage. The terms motherfucking piece of shit and fucking loser were tossed around more than once. You do remember preemptively accusing him of giving you an STD because he chased around whores and as you were walking out the door, you told him he would be a terrible father because he was still acting like a child himself.

Joel didn't say a single thing back. He stood there the entire time and took it, each word landing like a blow across the jaw. You weren't sure what pissed you off more: the fact that he didn't say anything or that he didn't even try to make you stay.

After you had a few weeks to reflect on it, you came to the conclusion that he must have been looking for a reason to break up and he was too chickenshit to do it himself, so he found a way to make you do it.

You blocked him on everything you could think of and pushed him from your mind. His name was banned in every conversation you had with your friends and family and as time went on, you managed to heal. You found a cute little apartment in downtown Austin and began hanging out more with your friends. You even went on a few dates with a couple different guys but nothing ever managed to stick, and you were fine with that. You actually preferred it. Being single was something you weren't familiar with and now, in your mid twenties, you were actually having a really fun time getting to know yourself again.

After so much time had passed, you really thought you were over it. Even after Kate shared that news with you, you still barely had a reaction. You were proud of yourself and feeling good. Joel was the furthest thing from your mind when you met some friends out for drinks that Friday night after work. The bar was crowded, but that wasn't unusual. It was one of the most popular spots downtown and your friend, Shannon, got there before the rest of you and managed to grab a small table.

"Are you still seeing that guy? The one with the cats?" Mel asked Shannon, and she shook her head.

"Ghosted me," she replied, making a sour face. You both pouted in return and you rubbed her back.

"Fuck him. There's plenty of other guys out there. Hell, there's plenty of guys right fucking here," you giggled and gestured behind her towards the packed bar. You noticed one guy in particular with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes glancing her way every few minutes and you nudged her foot under the table and jutted your chin in his direction. "Exhibit A."

She looked over her shoulder and smiled shyly before looking back at the two of you.

"I don't know..." she said hesitantly, then bit her lip and looked at him again. This time, the guy winked at her and she blushed.

"Come on, he's cute. Go dance with him," Mel urged, then Shannon grinned and snatched her purse.

"What the hell, can't hurt."

You both giggled as you watched her weave her way through the crowd towards her mystery man. Mel tossed back the rest of her drink with a wince before speaking again.

"Your turn."

You shook your head.

"Nah, I just wanna have a few drinks and go home, I'm not looking for another headache other than the one this vodka's gonna give me in the morning."

Mel opened her mouth to reply but then her eyes flicked to something over your shoulder. "Incoming," was all she said. You rolled your eyes and braced yourself for a shitty one-liner, but you turned out to be very wrong.

"Evenin', ladies," came a very familiar drawl from behind you. Your shoulders immediately stiffened and you slowly looked up. Sure enough, there he was. Joel.

It was Tommy who had greeted you. Joel still had yet to say anything as you glared at him. You met Mel after your breakup with Joel, and while you had told her about it, she never saw what he looked like so she was completely oblivious to what was happening. She had introduced herself to Tommy and was giggling at something he said while you were mentally planning your escape route.

"Lemme buy you a drink," Tommy offered, reaching out a hand. Mel eagerly took it and glanced back at you, frowning a little when she noticed your icy demeanor.

You ok? she mouthed, and you just nodded. She grinned and followed Tommy to the bar, leaving just the two of you.

"Mind if I sit?" he asked. You shrugged and grabbed your purse.

"It's all yours, I was just heading out."

"C'mon, don't be like that," he said. You swiveled around angrily and he held out a refill of your favorite mixed drink as a shitty peace offering. Kate was right. He had bags under his eyes and he looked run down.

"You hand me that drink and I'm dumping it over your fucking head," you snarled. He sighed and set it down on the table.

"I tried callin' but it never goes through."

"Because I blocked you, asshole."

"Yeah, I figured that out," he replied, sounding annoyed now. "Can you please just sit down?" he pleaded, pulling your chair out, but you shook your head and took a step back.

"No, Joel. I don't have anything else to say to you," you told him, then before you caused a scene you turned on your heel and began to push your way to the door, ignoring him calling your name over the music.

When you got outside, you took a deep breath, the cool night air mixing with cigarette smoke from a few bar patrons nearby. You didn't live too far away, so you decided to walk home and text your friends on the way so they knew you were safe. It was about two blocks away from the bar when Joel caught up with you and the idea of him finding out where you lived made you irrationally angry.

His fingers reached out and brushed against your elbow, trying to get you to slow down. You yanked your arm away and skid to a stop. "Don't fucking touch me, Joel."

"I'm sorry, please," he tried, but you shook your head.

"Sorry for what? For ruining my night out with my friends or throwing away seven years together and knocking up some slut?" Your nostrils flared as you glared at him angrily and a few people walking by turned in your direction then murmured amongst themselves when they were out of earshot. Joel glanced around nervously and raked his fingers through his hair.

"Can we please talk? I-I wanna apologize, I wanna make things right-"

"It's too late, Joel," you huffed and crossed your arms.

"Goddamnit, why you always gotta be so fuckin' stubborn?" he groaned, "this is why it wasn't workin', by the way. This is exactly fuckin' why."

"So your answer was to cheat on me? Real fucking classy," you snapped.

"I was fuckin' drunk!" he almost yelled, making you jump. "'Sides, from the sound of it you're havin' the time of your life bein' single. Makin' up for all those years you were stuck with me?"

"Fuck you!" you seethed, pointing your finger in his face. "You fucking asshole! Who the hell do you think you are? And why are you keeping tabs on me, anyway? What I do isn't your goddamn business anymore, so leave me alone!"

He buried his face in his palms and rubbed his eyes aggressively before taking a deep breath and trying again.

"I know, I know. And I'm sorry."

"What are you even doing out at a bar this late, anyway? Shouldn't you be home with your kid?" you said, leaving out the part about him being a single dad now, refusing to give him the satisfaction that you already knew.

"My mom's watchin' Sarah, wanted to give me a break," he mumbled. For some reason, hearing his baby's name made you freeze. Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. "It's just us now," he continued, and you swallowed tightly, finally letting him speak. "She left us a few weeks after Sarah was born. Said she couldn't handle it. I told her it sounded like that post-partum... whatever it's called," he continued, taking a step back so he could rest his tired body against the building behind him. "But she just got more and more distant and one mornin' I woke up to Sarah screamin' her head off in the crib and a note on her dresser."

You clenched your jaw, biting back the instinct to express your sympathy. Even through all your rage you couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. You could see it in his eyes. They weren't bright and playful like they used to be. The past year aged him.

"I made a mistake but I ain't gonna abandon my kid. Don't get how anyone could," he said softly, "she's just so small 'n helpless 'n I'm all she's got."

You took a deep breath and averted your gaze, staring up the street at nothing in particular. Even if you felt bad for him, that didn't change what he did to you: a betrayal worse than anything you had ever experienced. When you opened your mouth to tell him that, he spoke first.

"I still love you."

Your shoulders sagged and you closed your eyes.

"How stupid do you think I am?" you asked quietly. His tired eyes roamed over your face helplessly. "Your baby mama left you and now you're feeling overwhelmed so you thought you'd try crawling back?"

"That's not what this is," he insisted. "I didn't know I'd see you here tonight but now that I have, I couldn't let you leave without tellin' you I've thought about you every single fuckin' day since you left. Even the day Sarah was born, I was starin' down at her wishin' you were her mama instead." His eyes began to glisten, filling with unshed tears as he poured his heart out to you on the sidewalk. "I fucked up, baby. But if-"

"Don't call me that."

He ignored you and kept talking. "But if you gimme one more chance I promise I'll make it up to you." He gazed at you, blinking back his tears while trying to read your expression. "We got so much history together, there's gotta be something left. Somethin' worth fightin' for."

You tilted your head to the side and shook your head sadly.

"Sorry, Joel," you replied, watching as his face fell. "You made your choices, now you gotta live with them."

You turned and began to walk in the direction of your apartment, proud that you stood your ground but still feeling a pit in your stomach as you left. He wasn't wrong. You had a lot of history together and the hardest thing you ever had to do was walk away from him, but you knew in the end, you had to put yourself first.

Before he was out of earshot, you turned back around, spotting him standing in the same spot against the building staring down at his feet.

"Hey," you called out, and he quicky looked up.

"Good luck. To both you and Sarah. I mean it," you said sincerely. "You're doing the right thing, Joel."

He slowly nodded and you turned back around. Pulling out your phone, you saw a missed text from Mel asking where you were.

I'm gonna be okay, but I'm going home.

[literaila]

Triple dog dare you to write a snuggle session for atf after Gojo has a terrible day (pls I saw you were looking for ideas but no pressure 💗💗)

“are you frowning?”

satoru, who has been laying face down in bed right next to you for the last seven minutes, does not move.

you’re almost concerned that he died with his nose stuffed in the pillow but he says “no,” and then exhales aggressively into the sheets.

so at least he’s alive, if very dramatic. what else is new?

“are you lying?”

“no.”

“are you sure?”

“no.”

you refrain an eye roll and set down your book.

twenty minutes ago satoru had walked into the living room—where tsumiki was explaining something about knitting to you (of which you understood about 12% of)—and said “come to bed,” with a very serious look on his face.

twenty minutes ago satoru also turned right around and walked away, not bothering to elaborate in the slightest.

so you’d huffed at your daughter, kissed her cheek and told her to go to bed soon, and proceeded to do as your clingy, needy, not very communicative husband asked.

maybe you should’ve thought about it a bit longer.

to be fair, satoru just asked you to follow him to bed—he never said anything about tending to him. so you’d ignored his crossed arms as he sat there and changed into your pajamas.

you brushed your teeth and put on lotion and acted like his petulant look and the mood he was oozing all over the duvet was insignificant to you.

you’d even picked up your book, pretending to read as he flopped down next to you.

and then you waited.

but maybe you should’ve just asked. because now you have to deal with the satoru who refuses to turn over and look at you. the same one who is going to lie for at least another two minutes.

marriage is difficult.

satoru turns his face, cheek smushed and lips pursed. “how’d you know?”

“you sighed like… twenty times.”

“no i didn’t.”

and then you push at his shoulder, trying to move him yourself. but satoru is heavy and stubborn and he barely budges an inch.

really, you should’ve just stayed with tsumiki.

“this is sad,” he mumbles, after a minute of your struggling, a plane of hormones and bad attitudes.

“you need to lay off on the mochi,” you tell him, pulling at his hair.

“body shaming is rude.”

“so is ignoring your wife.”

finally he pushes up off of the bed with his arms. but instead of turning to face you, or saying “i need a hug,” or whispering that he’s tired or doing anything normal—satoru just turns away from you, huffing once again.

he’s now facing the wall, arms crossed. “you’re one to talk,” he mumbles, entirely immature.

the child inside of you is jumping for joy. you have loved irritating him since you were a teenager—and this is really no different.

but satoru is already upset, already difficult, and you’re going to fix it even if he doesn’t want you to.

so you refrain a grin because that would be cruel. you wait a moment—maybe for him to say something, even though you know he won’t. “satoru?”

“what?”

“you okay?”

“oh, so now you care?”

“what? i was waiting for you to say something.”

“you ignored me,” he’s whining and making sure that you can feel his indignation.

he gets in these moods sometimes, where everything he says is in an effort to prove you wrong. to win, even though there’s never any real fight he wants to put up.

it’s kind of endearing. and also very annoying.

still, you laugh. “was i supposed to run you a bath? go wake up megumi and ask him how your day was and then come back to tend to you?”

“you’re supposed to cuddle me,” he’s pouting, saying it so soft so he doesn’t have to admit defeat. you know from a decade of being in love with him.

but, almost despite yourself, you smile, staring at his back.

at least he’s relaxed a little—even if he’s irritated, or frustrated, or just exhausted.

you know that if you just kiss his neck a little and play with his hair he’ll preen like a cat and fall asleep in three minutes.

and maybe it’s just a little bit fun to mess with him—maybe you’ve taken a page out of his book.

who can blame you, anyway?

“satoru,” you say again, and push one of your legs under his. he barely moves, stiffening up where your hands meet his shoulders. “c’mon, i’ll let you be the little spoon,” you whisper, trying to duck down to meet his eyes.

satoru glances up. “really?”

you kiss his cheek. “only if you stop pouting.”

so he goes limp and you push your leg between his, bending until he’s molded into you, hands tucking under his arms, lips just against the nape of his neck.

satoru squirms a little bit—just until he’s completely covered by you, no inch of skin left behind.

and you’re pressed up against him, arms holding him to you.

“good?” you ask him, against the shell of his ear.

he just huffs, but he doesn’t move, barely breathes—and he’s not pouting.

one more minute and you’ll have him grinning again.

you wait a moment, allowing satoru’s fingers to find the sleeve of your shirt, hands fidgeting as he thinks.

“do you want to talk about it?” you ask him.

“no.”

you hum. “are you sure?”

“stop trying to trick me,” he says, pinching at your wrist.

you just shake his hand off, returning after a moment to intertwine your fingers with his. “don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“i know what you’re doing.”

“do you?”

he tilts his neck until your nose is pressed against him, nodding. “that’s what i always do. and you’re doing it wrong.”

“it always makes me feel better. is it working?”

“you can’t beat me.”

you peck at his skin. “i think it’s working.”

satoru just grunts, too tired and maybe too annoyed to say anything else.

but it’s working.

you’ve always worked with him like this—the two of you too similar to back down from each other, too familiar to not what the other is thinking, to not feel it.

“hey,” you whisper, when he doesn’t say anything else.

“hmm?”

“i love you.”

satoru turns a bit, so it’s more like you’re holding him, so you can wrap your arms around his torso and keep him even closer. you allow it, pretend it’s not happening—just for his sake.

but he’s warm, even if he’s sad—and he always smells nice, always feels the same.

his moments are stilted, though, as he relaxes. satoru has always been similar to a toddler—he gets cranky when he’s tired.

maybe you should’ve warmed him up some milk too.

“you better,” he finally tells you, like a threat but softer.

“do you want me to tell you a bed time story?”

and satoru is turning his head so you can’t see his lips, but he almost laughs, eyes beginning to blur.

“just stay there,” he whispers, not a request.

and you do.

[sareeen]

Meaningful words

Pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

Summary: A lonely night without Azriel is hard enough for Y/N, but when she gets a terribly sad book in her hands, she feels a thousand times worse. Luckily, Azriel is always there when she needs him and can calm her down like no one else.

Warnings: nothing, just fluff :)… maybe at the end a little dark azriel

Masterlist

A/N: After months of hard times, today I finally had the time and the will to write. With this little story today I would like to wish you all a Merry Christmas in advance :)

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistake.

Damn you, Nesta.

Y/N could hardly see the letters because of the tears in her eyes and the bottom of the page was already wet in several places. She felt so miserable that she wanted to throw the book away and lie there for two days, weeping in the depths of the bedclothes.

But the story sucked her in, the heroine's suffering and grief dug into her like sharp claws, and she was unable to put the book down. As Azriel was on a mission all night and she could not sleep for lack of it, she took the book that Nesta had borrowed to her. She told her it was a sad story and surely if Nesta Archeron called something depressing then it must be so.

As she kept turning the pages, the harder it was to restrain herself from reaching for the bond with the spymaster and tugging at it, then begging him to come home. But, with great difficulty, she managed to control herself and behave like an adult. However, in the last few hours, as the sun began to rise, she looked at the clock more and more and sat on pins and needles to hear the front door open.

When she started another chapter and the protagonist was hit with yet another worse blow, as if the poor thing hadn't already had a hard time, she sobbed so much that she missed the opening of the door by just the wrong margin.

Azriel stood frozen, his broad shoulders almost filling the doorframe and panting heavily as if he had run all the way home from the Illyrian camp.

"What's wrong?" he stepped inside immediately after the first shock and rushed straight to their bed.

"Stupid book."

The words were almost unintelligible and Y/N pointed the thick book towards him like some kind of idiot and handed it to him.

Azriel held it in his huge hands, clueless, and it was obvious that he didn't understand the situation at all. He looked so lost, which was so unlike him, that if the situation had been different Y/N would have laughed.

But she felt so lousy she just tried not to cry any harder.

It was almost consuming him, it seemed, to see her like this and not know exactly what was wrong with her and how he could help her. So, he just lay next to her, dressed in his battle clothes as he was, and pulled her onto his chest.

It made Y/N cry even more.

"It's so sad," Y/N poked the hard cover of the book. "Nesta gave it to me and now I feel so awful."

Azriel kissed her hair and mumbled something that sounded too much like I'm going to kill that woman.

"Then why are you reading it, sweetheart?" his warm hand traced soothing circles down her back, making her feel a little better. At least enough to form meaningful and complex sentences, and not like some one and a half year old child.

"Because it's so good by the way," she whispered, pressing her palm against Azriel's chest, right where his heart was beating. A small relief welled up inside her and she stroked the leather.

“But it's so sad because Adja the main heroine is losing her mate. He was wounded during a battle and the healers couldn't save him, and then he died."

A shiver ran through her as Azriel's arm tightened around her, almost pulling her into him.

"I've been thinking about what I would do" Y/N sniffed. "If you died, I don't know what I would do. I'd probably jump off the nearest cliff I could find and go after you."

Azriel took a deep breath at her words and cupped her face in his two scarred hands. Y/N looked at him with teary eyes and the way his partner looked at her, with that devotion and adoration, she was absolutely certain that she would indeed go after him to death.

"My love" he gave her a soft kiss on the lips and then wiped away the tear that trailed down her cheek. "I'm not going to die."

"You can't promise me that" Y/N argued at once. "No one can promise that."

Azriel smiled and gave her another kiss.

His lips were warm and soft on hers, causing Y/N's arm to unconsciously wrap around his neck and pull him closer. Their legs tangled together under the blanket and Azriel's shadows retreated to the corner, as if they didn't want to share this intimate moment.

When they broke apart, Azriel's finger brushed her cheek with a breathless caress. The golden-brown eyes almost glowed and Y/N could have sworn they sparkled slightly. She knew that her mate sometimes still struggled to accept that she really loved him. Every once in a while, her heart sank when she sensed through the bond that Azriel doubted himself and at such times she always made sure to surprise him with something to prove that he deserved it more than anyone.

"Indeed not, but I can promise you that I will do my best to stay alive" he grinned and playfully pinched her bottom. "I'll do my best to come home to this pretty little bottom every night."

To enhance his words, he gently patted the said body part.

Y/N gasped in surprise at the sensation and slapped his shoulder, but her mouth was already up to her ears. She felt much, much better thanks to Azriel.

"Good, because you're never leaving the house again" Y/N raised an eyebrow, then added jokingly. "Besides, it's not nice that your partner tearfully admits what she would do if you were gone and all you could think about was her butt. You know, other men would return the favor in a heartbeat, with words like I'd burn the world for you."

Azriel laughed and rolled over, pushing her body with his huge one almost into the mattress, which made Y/N sigh happily.

"Really?" The spymaster asked, brushing her stray hairs from her forehead.

"Yes," Y/N answered seriously, but there was laughter in her voice.

Azriel slowly leaned in to her ear and Y/N shivered with excitement as he began to whisper.

"Do you want to know what I would do if you died?" the spymaster said, but his grip on the words grew a little steely, as if the very thought of it was driving him mad. "I would cover the whole world in darkness and blood, hunt everyone down and when I had finished with all the sinners and all their loved ones, I would end my life and follow you to the afterlife. Proudly and without thinking, because if you no longer exist then the whole world is meaningless and I wouldn't want to exist in it."

Y/N's fingers tangled in Azriel's dark hair.

"That was better than a I'd burn the world down."

Azriel's dark laughter filled the apartment.

"I would do more for you."

[barzzal]

call me crosby → part six

summary: Young, reckless, and rash, an unplanned pregnancy causes a massive rift in your relationship with then, cup-hungry 27 year-old Sidney Crosby. As he gets caught up in his own childish and selfish ways, confused to what was once certain, he lets you struggle alone. His absence reasons a miscarriage scare that leads you to end the relationship. Years after losing you, having to live a life that’s surrounded with the families his friends have built through the years embodies his greatest regret. Now with three cups and tons of awards at his disposal, Sid is given a chance to right his wrongs and win what was once the biggest loss of his life.

pairing: sidney crosby x fem!reader gen. warnings: language and theme, co-parenting, mentions of pregnancy & false miscarriage, sexual/suggestive themes, 18+ ch. warnings: parenting, tantrums, and a tad bit of angst genre: hockey rpf, fluff, angst, kid-fic, exes to lovers length: series; 5.2k masterlist: the barn, series masterlist

note: REALLY hoping i get to finish this while on my uni break. This was supposed to be posted on father's day but ya girl was on a trip i had to make most of it yk! Also, do note that the italicized part is a quick flashback. Anyway, happy reading! <3 (gif used: mine)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. teasers, interviews, events, and the like that are included in the series are purely made for fictional purposes and do not/should not represent any of the names involved in real life. please proceed with caution.  

Two words. Terrible twos.

It was one of the things your mom has told you about raising a child of your own. It was a stage full of tantrums and frustrations; one you’ve never dealt with before. You were told that it was overwhelming, that you have to prepare yourself mentally and physically for it. However, your son, as the marvel child that he is, was so good at that age that you need not have to worry about it. 

Well, not until a few years later. 

“Mommy, please!” Luke wails in frustration from the living room. 

He has been asking for a little more screen time watching his show instead of doing his homework. And be that as it may, he has been adamant about not getting what he wanted. 

This has been going on for a couple of weeks, following Luke’s realization of not getting to play much of hockey. Frankly, as well as not seeing much of Sidney. 

“Honey, you’ve been watching for almost two hours. That’s enough.” you say, massaging your temple as you walk towards where he is, trying not to lose your temper.

You and your son have always been in sync. You have not really had the chance to reprimand or give him a good scolding. Lucas is a fairly calm child right from the beginning. To say the least, dealing with his temper tantrums now is a lot harder than you’ve prepared for. 

You see him sitting on the couch holding the remote tightly. His cheeks are still evidently damp from all the crying. You know he’s bound to strain his voice just by looking at him. 

“Two hours is not enough!” he appeals. Just like you thought, his voice is now nearly gone from all the screaming. “Please, I want my TV!” 

It is during times like this where you have to try harder as a mother. You know it will not always be rainbows with Luke. But despite your efforts to ensure that he would be able to express himself when you greatly need it, you can’t blame a child for not knowing exactly how he feels nor the reason for it. You just wish he’d be able to let you know even just a little. At least then, you could make it all better.

“Baby,” you endearingly call for him as you approach. 

With a soft smile on your face, you caress his hair. Your hands then fall to his cheeks so as to wipe his tears away. 

“You’ve already watched a lot of episodes today...” you carefully work your way in; gently reminding him of his acquired screen time. 

Frustratingly, Luke’s voice breaks as he tries to tell you he wasn’t going to watch any more episodes of Paw Patrol and the new Lego Spiderman. 

“Then what were you trying to watch?” you ask him with the same nurturing voice. 

You see Luke shoot a glance over the screen that you’ve already turned off half an hour ago. 

Yes, this has been going on for that long. 

“Mkay, you may turn it on so you can show me.” 

There comes a glint of hope in his eyes the moment he hears you. You fight the urge to chuckle, finding it quite adorable. 

Luke, now standing on his feet, finds the red power button and points it towards the television. Once it’s turned on, the thumbnail of a show greets you; one that you least expected– one that you clearly were not ready for. 

“So tell us guys, how can we make hockey more fun?” said the last voice you wanted to hear. 

Sid and Nathan in their respective jersey’s for a commercial a few years back comes into view. You know that it was one of his brand commitments that he still does to this day. You were just not aware that Tim Horton’s apparently had this particular video uploaded for everyone to see. 

As you watch the clip turn over to a handful of kids skating towards the two famed athletes, you make the mistake of taking the remote from your son to pause the short youtube clip quite hastily. You inevitably surprise him with your reaction thereby scaring him. 

Upon deducing that you were upset by the show that he has chosen, Luke begins to cry even harder than before.

Alarmed, you put away the remote and reached for him. You let him fall in your arms whilst he buried his face in your chest. 

“I’m sorry, baby. Mommy didn’t mean that.” you try to convince him, caressing his head. You feel disgusted with yourself because you know this is not the way you wanted this moment to unfold. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Mommy.” Luke says in between his sobbing. He hugs you tighter whilst in a heaping mess.

“Hush, it’s okay.” you comfort him. “I’m sorry too.”

You let him cry himself out. It may be heartbreaking for you, but you couldn’t think of any other way to help your seemingly helpless child. The only thing you could offer him is the assurance that you will always be by his side when he needs you. 

You know that the overwhelming surge of emotion he’s feeling now is quite new for him. Dealing with his outburst may be tough on your end, but you can’t even imagine how much harder it must have been for a child to be utterly clueless as to why he is crying. 

Swiftly, just like you used to do when he was a baby, you sway your body whilst Luke stays in your embrace. Once Luke’s breathing begins to calm down, you lovingly caress his back; deciding to try again. 

“How are you feeling, darling?” 

Luke doesn’t utter a word. However, you feel him move even closer to your body as if there was any space left. You tighten your hold on him as you place a kiss atop  his forehead. 

“Mommy’s not mad at you, okay?” 

With what you assume is the last of his sobs, Luke quietly replies, “Okay…” 

He breaks away from your hold and looks you in the eye, “I’m sorry.”

You offer him a reassuring smile, “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to scare you, honey.”

You plant a wet kiss atop his nose, making him giggle. 

“May I know why you wanted to watch more TV?” you ask.

When you see a hint of hesitation on his demeanor you add, “I’m not upset. I promise. Go on, you can tell me.” 

“Sidney…” 

“Do– Do you miss him?” you ask hesitantly, afraid to hear what his answer might be. 

Your son nods, “Uh-huh.”

Of course. 

Luke continues, “He said… he’s going to play with me when he comes back.” 

“Where is he, Mom? Why isn’t he back?” 

“I…” you struggle. You didn’t know how to tell him that this was all because of your doing. “I don’t know, honey.”

Luke looks at you with his little eyes, all too tired from crying. “Doesn’t he wanna play with me?”

You shake your head, determined not to put thoughts in his head that could be a detriment as to how he saw Sidney. Funny how you still instinctively did things for Sidney’s sake. 

“Of course, he does, sweetheart. He’s just—” 

Your son interrupts, “He’s just what?” 

You caress his cheek as you say, “He needed to take care of some stuff.” 

“What kind of stuff?”

You hum, playing with his hair. “Stuff like what Mom also has to take care of sometimes.” 

You think of an example. “Like, when I leave you with Aunt Claire for a little while, you remember?”

He looks up at you with enthusiasm in his voice when he says, “Aunt Claire always gives me M&Ms.”

You give him a warm and knowing smile. “She does, doesn’t she?” 

Your son continues, “She also gives me candy when you come back.” 

“Yes! See– I always come back, right?” you begin to explain. “Sidney’s gonna come back too, honey. It’s just taking a while. We need to wait a bit longer.”

Luke tilts his head, “Longer?” 

“Yes, right. Can you do that? Can you wait a little more for Sidney?” 

Once again, only with a discernible smile spreading on his lips, your son nods.

“Are you gonna wait for him too?” 

It takes a few seconds before you are able to answer.

“Yes. I am also waiting for him.”

𖥸

Days have gone and your son stayed true to his words. He’s waiting patiently for Sidney. 

In the meantime, Luke has shifted his focus on his art albeit not entirely off hockey given that most of his drawings were of hockey sticks, pucks, and the Pittsburgh Penguins logo. 

You no longer mind for as long as he is, for lack of a better term, distracted. You and Sidney have remained in no contact with one another and it is highly likely to remain the same. You may have kept in touch with Cath and Anna but neither of them gave you word as to how Sidney was doing. Surely, they were thinking you did not really care for it. Did you? 

You sigh, watching your son soundly asleep as he takes his afternoon nap. Days have been quite easier ever since the night you last saw Sidney. But you have to admit, seeing your son’s room now reminds you of him. You would have easily shut down the idea of having Sidney taint the corners of your home with his presence; particularly your son’s room. It would have easily aggravated you, perhaps fuel the hate you have for him even more. How come you don’t? How come what you feel instead is the void in your gut that is melancholy. 

Quietly, you shut the door of your son’s room to let him rest. 

You have been pondering as to how to remedy your situation with Sidney but alas, nothing came close to a practicable and civil reconciliation. You knew full well that co-parenting would be hard given the fact that it was one of the reasons why you chose to be your son’s only parent. You just fell short of realizing how it will equally be as hard on you. As much as you’d give every fiber of your being to be the best Mother you can be to your child, it kills you to acknowledge that Luke needs someone other than you, even more so that it inevitably means him needing his father. 

Perhaps Sidney isn’t the only one who had a hand in everything falling apart. ‘Perhaps’ is a little far fetched but a mere inkling would suffice. You are not yet ready to acknowledge you had your share in the wrongs that make up this little broken family of yours.  

You were putting away Luke’s plushies in his toy bin when you heard the doorbell ring. You place the bin on the floor before you make your way to the front door. It was unusual given that you were not really expecting anyone to drop by. The only close friends you have in the city would not be so careless in doing so for obvious reasons. 

You take a quick glance on the doorbell camera and your heart immediately sinks. 

Of all the people you’d expect to be waiting at the other side of the door, she would be the last one. 

The moment you opened the door you were welcomed with eyes as blue as the ocean back home, hair that is as gold as the afternoon sun, and a smile that’s entirely identical to Sidney’s and your son’s.

Close to losing all the words you know, you were able to say one name. 

“Taylor.” 

She wastes no second, “Is it true?” 

You see Taylor’s eyes wander off to Luke’s toy bin sitting idly near the staircase. The discerning look on her face let you know she no longer needed an answer. 

“Come in.” you say. 

Quiet and unsettling air sits as you invite Sidney’s sister inside your home. You did not really know where to begin. The best thing you can do now is to lead her to your living room, offer some tea, and sit in silence.

“Can I get you anything? I might have some tea lying around.” you say, offering formalities. 

Taylor gives you a tight-lipped smile. Reserved. You get it. You would be too if you recently learned you had a nephew.

“Water would be nice.” she replies. 

You give her a swift nod just as you tell her, “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

You turn on your heels and make your way towards the kitchen with cold hands and a pounding heart. Sitting with Sidney’s sister for afternoon tea isn’t exactly what you had in mind spending your time off work. 

Needless to say, you prolong the trip to the kitchen and back to the living room. You need to buy yourself some time to process what’s about to happen. 

Upon your return, you see Taylor looking at the photo wall you’ve created through the years. The very same one you caught Sidney looking at the first time you invited him over. 

When the two of you catch each other’s gaze, you offer Taylor an apologetic smile. It’s true. You now realize how your new life — your growth looked like through the eyes of your old friends. A harsh reminder that none of them are in it. 

You and Taylor were good friends ever since Sidney brought you to Halifax to meet his folks. You always had a hard time warming up to people you barely know, but with Taylor… well, she made it so easy. 

If only she knew of the things you’ve gone through subsequent to the better parts of your life with her brother. Maybe then, she’d understand. 

The two of you utter each other’s names at once, immediately stopping upon realization. 

You gladly let Taylor know she could continue what she was about to say. After all, you know she has nothing but questions that only you could answer. 

The first thing she asks is, “What happened?” 

You begin to explain. You tell her about the first time you knew you were pregnant, the moment you told Sidney, and how things unraveled shortly after that. You spared her no detail of what has come and gone; the years that flew by so quickly and dreadfully slow at the same time. 

“I didn’t know things were that hard,” she says apologetically, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because,” you pause, “I knew Sidney felt alone.” 

With kind eyes, Taylor replies, “So were you.”

Taylor has always been on your side despite being Sidney’s sister. She knew how difficult her brother can be. After all, she grew up with him. 

You sigh because what she said was true. You and Sidney were alone together. But regardless of the wall that separated the two of you, you didn’t want to let Sidney feel as alone as you felt when he left you. Maybe that’s why you inadvertently left Taylor out of the mess just so Sidney felt he still had someone on his side. 

“At the time everyone blamed him for not wanting a child.” you begin, “I knew that if I told you, you’d feel the same as I do. I didn’t want him to feel that his sister was against him too.” 

“Listen,” she says, “When Sid told me, I swore that I was gonna come up here and be mad at you… but for years, I’ve seen how the game ate up most of the Sid I knew. So I guess, I couldn’t really blame you.” 

“I only did what I thought was the best for us.” you say honestly, “I just didn’t think the repercussions of my action would bring us into this much mess.”

It’s true. The life you pictured with your son excluded Sidney, but you should have known that what Claire told you was right the moment you came back to Pittsburgh with your son. Sure, the first year went by so blissfully. But you have forgotten yet another circumstance you should have known before you dealt another card: Luke. 

Luke is growing up exactly how you dreamt him to be. A boy who has a mind of his own. You cannot really expect him to go along your every plan if he’s already becoming his own person, can you? 

You hate yourself for it. However, you’ll hate yourself even more if you deprive him of something he is entitled to have no matter how much you’re against it. 

Taylor stayed for a while. You spend the time showing her memories you’ve made with Luke. You showed pictures of your son as a newborn, the many birthday parties you have thrown for him, even the ones you have taken of him playing hockey. Taylor savored every bit of the nephew she could get to know. The only thing left now is to finally meet him. 

With nothing but a humble heart you hold Taylor’s hand and say, “I’m really sorry.”

Taylor puts her hand on top of yours, giving it a squeeze. “I understand.”

“Do you want to meet him?” 

“I do,” she gives you a warm smile, “but not when you and Sidney have yet to patch things up.” 

You let go of her hand and sigh. You understood what she wanted you to do. For the first time, you wanted the same thing too. 

“I’ll talk to him.”

𖥸

July has been warming up the city but your words still rang in Sidney’s ears as if it had just been uttered.

“I’m done.” 

As hard as it was to admit, Sidney knew that the article was the final nail in the coffin — the final string that would make him understand why you had to keep his son away from him. Just like all the other times, you were right. He had always been less of a man much like all the others. 

He couldn’t wrap his head around how he managed to screw things up worse than he already had even when he was barely making any progress. Perhaps, it was foolish of him to think he can still make it work. After all, what more remedy could he do to the very thing you have long buried six feet under? 

Instead, what he did was go home to Halifax days subsequent to the release of the controversial article. The last thing he wanted was attention so he did the sanest thing he could think of: renovate his lake shed. 

Apart from the fact that it was the off-season, Sidney could not see himself staying in his Pittsburgh home. The night you ended the attempt to co-parent with him only reminded Sidney of the time he foolishly thought he had already purged out of his system. It was as if he had been brought back to the night he was told his child was gone. 

“Please don’t end us.” he says, knees already on the cold hospital floor. “Please don’t make me leave.” 

Sidney feels your grip on his hand tighten as an attempt to break off his hold, but before you can do so, the door to your room opens to reveal Kris and Geno rushing to take Sidney away from you. 

“Sidney,” he hears Geno call his name. 

He didn’t budge. He wasn’t going anywhere without you. He knew you needed him. He understood what had to be done. A little too late, but he’s here now.

“Y/N-” 

“Sid,” Kris places a hand on his shoulder just as he firmly says, “let her rest.” 

It was the least Sidney could do. To let you be — as he had easily done so when it was the last thing you wanted.

Sidney came back to the hospital with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hands. He walked the halls with hope only to find out you were no longer there. He had been cut off as soon as Kris and Geno walked him out of your hospital room — the last time he was ever going to see you. 

He waited for hours sitting on the lobby bench beside your hospital room. If it were not for the next patient arriving to occupy the room, Sidney would not have probably left. 

The days he spent in your shared home haunted him of the days he had left you alone in it waiting for him to come home. The house he had built with his fame and successes have now become a constant reminder of what a failure it really was. 

Sidney sighed once he finished a glass of water. He absent mindedly places it atop the counter as his eyes remained in focus at a photograph placed on his refrigerator. It had been a while since he last saw it. After all, he only gets to go home during the off season. 

He walks towards the fridge and takes the photo in his hand. It was the first sonogram you had of your son. The one you dread having to leave when you finally had the courage to leave Sidney, but the last possession Sidney has of the life he could have been living. 

With eyes now glistening with impending tears, Sidney lightly rubs his thumb on the picture — what was once a tiny little peanut has grown to become a boy Sidney could no longer keep out of his mind. He’s hurting at the fact that he misses you — but his heart aches at the thought of Luke eventually forgetting about him. Sidney knows he’s going to be yet another random ‘Mr.’ at a camp that happened to teach him a sport he will grow up to forget eventually. All those memories Sidney will bring with him to his deathbed will surely be forgotten by the time the tiny little peanut graduates from college. 

Who else could he blame for the life he’s now living however miserable it may be? You offered him this life with your own life on the line. Sidney did nothing but toss it aside because he was set on his ways. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself. Perhaps, that’s what he should bring to his deathbed. 

Sidney’s self-loathing was put into a halt when he heard a chime coming from his phone already buzzing on his kitchen counter. 

He sees a message that almost had him on his knees. 

Just below your name were the words he had least expected but mostly hoped to read, “Can we talk?”

𖥸

As soon as you were able to set a date, Sidney wasted no time and got in the next flight bound for Pittsburgh. Sidney had two days to prepare before meeting you and while that seemed like enough time to be able to think about what he’s going to say the moment he sees you, he could neither ascertain how to explain nor justify his shortcomings. So, he won’t. 

Sidney watches your car pull over the driveway after having opened his gate. After the tedious two-day wait, you were back. Well, at least that’s what Sidney thought at the time. Because unlike him, it was not just two days — it has been six years. 

Sidney was chivalrous enough to let a few seconds pass before he finally opened the door for you although to tell you the truth, he had been at the other side of it long before you rang the doorbell. 

You follow Sidney’s steps as you make your way to the living room. Said walk was not like the others you used to thread on back when you were still together — it wasn’t so long and quiet. At least, it didn’t feel that way.

“Can I offer you a drink?” Sidney asks. The hoarseness in his voice strung along his words. 

Has he been crying that much? His eyes were a bit tired. He hasn’t been sleeping. How come Kris said he was fine? But then again, Sidney has had quite a talent in putting up a facade. You catch him fiddling his thumb. When he sees where your eyes have been, Sidney immediately takes his hand into his pocket. 

You immediately put your gaze elsewhere. “Uh, just water.” 

As you scan the view that is Sidney Crosby’s home, one thing comes to mind: it looks nothing like Connor Mcdavid’s. Sidney’s was far more deserving to be featured in Architectural Digest. To hell with black and metal. This was a home. 

Well, it is. Just not for Sidney.

Even if it was, a part of you knew Sidney would never parade his home for everyone else to see; let alone have it printed on a magazine.

Apart from the wood panels that fashioned the ceilings, everything else was unfamiliar. It was as if you never lived in it. He had new pieces displayed in various corners of the room. Some of it worth millions sitting idly beside or on top of worn out books like some mere paper weight. 

Sidney also redid the floors. Neutral wide plank flooring. You thought that it was quite a bold choice considering the majority of the furniture you had before came in dark tones. But then, that made you realize Sidney also bought new furniture. He also changed a few fixtures, here and there. The white french sliding doors leading to the patio were now replaced with glass doors that had wood trimmings as well as the hallway leading to your old home office that now had interior glass doors. You notice tons of boxes you could see from the other side. Perhaps, he thought it would now be a good use for a storage space. After all, he had to fill in every bit of void you’ve left him with. 

You tear your eyes away from the halls you used to frequent. Instead, you quietly follow Sidney’s footsteps. The house still had an open floor-plan. Sidney loved seeing everything at once. At least that hasn’t changed. 

“Make yourself comfortable.” he says with a tight-lipped smile just as he turns towards the kitchen.

The cloud of uncertainty was still evident and heavy. To top it all, you were neither sure of what to tell him nor where to begin. Clearly, you should have bought yourself a bit more time before ringing his doorbell. 

You hold your bag close to your chest once you’ve sat in Sidney's living room. You were wrong. The changes he made were drastic. His taste then was incomparable to how it is now. The Sidney you knew then wouldn’t be so meticulous as to what type of wood to use in his fireplace or what fabric to pick when it comes to throw pillows lining the couch. Hell, he wouldn’t have thought of having one — let alone five. 

A quiet smile seeps in your lips. It’s nice that something good has come out of such an ugly chapter in your lives.

Your eyes catch a shade of blue and crimson red blankly displayed on the side of the room from where you were sitting. You feel a gnawing guilt resting in your guts as the painting comes into full view. You stand as your hand travels to your chest. It was a piece by Peter Doig called the “100 Years Ago”. 

A man sits alone in a canoe in the middle of a quiet and still ocean. The man looks at you helpless and tired of what must have been an arduous journey. You meet his eyes, as if it were in desperate need of help. Your help. But then again, there’s an island waiting for him — even a house sitting on top of the hill. Couldn’t he just row his way and ask for help? Perhaps his inability to do so was due to the fact that he’d already gone to that house — maybe what it really was is just as empty as what he already had in the canoe.

As the eerily still piece settles before your eyes, you can’t help but think of what it must have been like to be the one that’s stuck. The man that was torn between two distances. To choose between whatever it was sitting before his eyes and the big island he can always call home.

“Hey.”

Sidney’s voice pulls you back to your feet. 

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” he says, two glasses of water in each hand. 

“No, it’s all right.” you say. 

“That–” you turn your gaze back to the painting before continuing, “That is something.”

Sidney gives a humble smile. “Thanks. I got it a couple of years back when I started renovating the place.”

It would be absurd to say that Sidney’s house has not changed since the last time you walked its halls. It did change. A lot. After all, you didn’t expect him to leave everything as it was; how you left it. Despite that, there was a little hope that Sidney did leave a bit of what might have reminded him of you untouched. 

“So– listen, the reason why I came here.” you begin, hugging the glass with both your hands. 

“I know. Taylor.” Sidney saves you the need to explain. “I’m sorry I told her. I wasn’t in my right mind the last couple of weeks.” 

It’s true. He knew it must have been hard for you to tell Taylor everything. It was yet another reason for you to cut him completely out of your life, yet another rash decision, yet another failure. Sidney did what he could at the time and his only wish now is for you to understand. He had just lost you and his son twice. To have done otherwise would have made him lose his mind. 

“No. It’s alright. She’s bound to know that she has a nephew.” you earnestly reply.

At this point, you have come to realize that you’ve been insufferable regardless of your own merits. Sidney thought he had lost a son. You couldn’t possibly deprive him of his own sister.

“How– how is he?” he asks, afraid of how he’ll be answered. 

You look Sidney in his eyes just as you say, “He’s been missing you.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Really.”

Sidney takes in the new information as a quiet smile spreads on his lips. Luke misses him. 

Seeing Sidney’s reaction brought you a sense of guilt and warmth only a parent could feel. 

“Honestly, Taylor visiting isn’t really the reason why I’m here.” 

His brows quirk and asks, “What do you mean?” 

“I think…” you say, fighting yourself from refusing to tell Sidney the truth. The very truth that you’re still having a hard time accepting.

“I think it’s time to acknowledge– and for me to accept, that my son needs you.”

It’s the truth. It might have been hard for you given that Sidney was the root of it all, but you could no longer put up with the way you have been treating Sidney at your son’s expense. You may still have bits of resentment towards what once was but that doesn’t give you a right to deprive your son of his right. A part of you may still hate Sidney for the pain he caused you, but you could not bear the thought of your son hating his father because of your own doing. 

Sidney is at a loss for words.

“Do you really mean that?” 

He sees you nod. 

You give him a reassuring smile. 

“It’s one thing to keep a father away from his child, but it’s another to keep a child away from his father.”

series taglist:

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note: patience patience patience. thank you all! ♡

add yourself to the series taglist here. i appreciate all kinds of feedback! ♡

[screechingsandwichtriumph]

Platonic yandere avengers x reader x romantic yandere peter parker

Idek how to begin this so beware unlucky readers

Summary: you are an idol ,you are an avenger. How can they not be slightly a little bit protective of you

Warnings: yandere themes , stalking, obsession, fighting, blood , I think this is it

Also this will include(I'm sorry I didn't exactly do the like main six or whatever) Tony , Steve , Bucky , Clint , Natasha , Wanda , Peter

This is longer than I expected and I kinda don't like it but here it is in its full glory<3

When you joined the team , they blamed their protectiveness over you to your personality

I mean you are so cute and look so innocent , how can they not want to protect you ?

Tony had totally not hacked into every single account that you own / have owned in your life and he absolutely hasn't researcher your dad's Facebook to find childhood pictures of you. And he surely didn't print those out and handed then around in the team. Also expect to be spoilt rotten. Complained once about a stain on your favorite jacket? Have three more of the exact same just in case

Steve claimed to need specifically your help to understand how to operate anything mechanical ad expect to have a lot of movie marathons. He will read you before you sleep even though you are not a child anymore because ' he just liked when he is reading out loud'

Bucky would be the type of person to dig in deep in your life. He wouldn't stalk you specifically. That is tasked to someone else. No . He would stalk Al your friends and all your exes and highschool teachers.ad if he had to he would accidentally make some of them he consider bad influences disappear

Clint along with Natasha are your stalkers

Clint will always be hidden close by in case you need help with something (like , idk someone dead?) and my man could literally enter your home , casually look around a bit , stare at your decorations , and be out without you even realizing he was never there

Natasha on the other hand isn't so subtle. You could easily spot her on the other end of the street wearing sunglasses and staring at you intensely. Once you were in a bookstore admiring some books and stationary that you did not buy and the next day they were at your door with a little note that said ' saw them and they reminded me of you - Natasha ' as if you hadn't seen her looking at you. It isn't even that she is stupid . She just doesn't care

Wanda practically lived at your head at this point knowing things about you , you were barely aware of. Like , what do you mean you can't remember that one time you went snowboarding and fell? What do you mean how she knows that story and that you never told her? Of course you did silly!

Peter now was clearly in live with you and the first to meet you and get obsessed over you. When after some time he went to Tony and told him about his feelings , Tony supported his feelings to the max since this could be beneficial for all of them. Peter would never leave , they trusted him and he could keep you close.

Now you seem like a soft baby that needs protection from everyone ands that's mainly due to the way you present yourself and act. You have the most bubbly soft personality and everyone loves that

Being an idol , and an avenger was a dream come true for you , so when you had a big show and gave to them tickets to come see you they of course came( Tony almost bought all tha tickets so it could be only you but Steve stopped him)

Heating a music so fitting to your aesthetic it was like they fell in love (platonically and romantically for Peter) all over again. You are just so sweet and cute

Then a day came where an attack happened in new York and all of you jumped to action. They had no time to stop you from going to battle or even think about doing it really. The only think they could do was act.

Now , your powers were so incredibly powerful that they never thought you would have to fight face to face with someone. But they were terrible wrong

Once the fight was over they all spotted you on the corner of a building with bloody fists and a small trail of blood staining your pretty pink costume. A fan of yours was there asking you to take a picture . You kindly smiled at the camera revealing a set of bloody teeth.

Your fan seemed super excited at that and almost yelled out in joy. You bid her goodbye and went towards the group of your shocked friends

They all just stared at you in an unusually bloody shape , that somehow seemed fitting (?)

Later on they were shown a video of you with a bunch of people , that you were brutally fighting with . They were all left to shreds when you left your head held high.( Peter was even more into you after that)

Asks are always open<3

[astrolynnworld]

stress reliever

pairing: chris x reader

summary: the baby is taking a toll on the readers mental health so chris decides to be her stress reliever

warnings: smut! pregnant reader, mental health, sadness, stress, smut, language, dom chris, reassurance, praise, love, romance

a/n: love me a request

word count: 1,127

life sucks so much lately. everything is a nuisance

i feel like my decisions aren’t mine anymore, everything i do revolves around this baby.

and i can’t help but feel like that’s never gonna change.. because isn’t that what having a kid is like?

putting them first above you at all times because you want them to push for more than you ever could?

it’s all so stressful. i wouldn’t even know the first thing about being a mother, yet i have 4 months until i officially become one.

i can’t even do the things i used to enjoy anymore. all i do is eat, sleep, feel sick, and linger around the house

chris tries his best to keep me active and motivated but nothing has been working

i feel like he can tell that i’ve been so down lately

———————————————————————

“baby come on let’s go for a walk” chris begs

“i don’t want too. i want to stay in bed” i reply

“come on, you’ve been in bed all day. let’s go outside” he responds back

“chris it’s fine, the day is almost over. we don’t need to be outside doing absolutely nothing.” i snap then retract

chris climbs into bed with me

“baby what’s wrong.. honestly” he starts up

i sigh trying to hold back my tears, “i just feel like im not ready to be a mother”

“why would you ever think that baby?” he says softly

“how am i supposed to take care of our baby girl when i can barely take care of myself? i have NOTHING going for myself chris.” i start the sentence to my mini rant

“how will she ever look up to her failure of a mother? the mother with a shitty job, no car, and can’t even make anything of herself” i say starting to cry at this point

“i’m NOT ready to bring a child into my world. im going to be a TERRIBLE mother chris. don’t you see that?” i ask rhetorically while resting my face in my hands

chris grabs my chin, “y/n..”

“don’t chris.” i say

“look at me y/n”

i look up to a soft kind glare plastered on chris’ face

he starts wiping my tears away, “you’re the most beautiful, kindest, honest, loving, hard working woman i know”

“there is not a doubt in my mind that you’re going to be an amazing and incredible mother” he continues

“you’re not afraid speak your mind, you’re so independent, you don’t let any obstacle overcome who you are, and you’re always down for a good challenge”

i let out a soft smile

“i’d be LUCKY if our daughter was anything like you. i’d rather nothing more.”

“do you really mean that?” i ask

“you think our daughter should come out anything like me” he says while laughing

“no..” i chuckle back

“exactly. you don’t see what i see but of course you’re the perfect role model for our daughter, you’re an amazing person y/n. and i know you’re going to be an amazing mother.” he responds back in a smile

i calm down and give chris a hug

“im so grateful that i have you by my side doing this with me” i say as i hug him tighter

i pull away and give him a kiss

“i love you so much y/n” he says before giving me another kiss

then another one..

and another one…

“christopher.” i laugh

“come on” he smiles as he flips me on my back, “your lips are so soft” he dives back into another kiss

he starts kissing down my neck

“chris.. you don’t have to do this” i say as i put up a little resistance

“shh baby, just let me show you how amazing you are” he responds

i nod my head bring my neck up for another kiss on the lips. to which he fulfills

he keeps kissing me as he slides me out of my pants and underwear.

“fuck your pussy is so pretty baby.” he says while rubbing my clit

i let out a slight moan at the warm hand rubbing my juices in

“so wet for me baby” he says as he lifts his hand to taste my juices

“you make me so hard baby”

“chris please..” i whine

“please what baby” he responds

“please fuck me”

“dont need to ask me twice” he chuckles as he whips out his cock

he starts teasing the outside of my pussy with his head

causing me to arch my back into the sheets

“fuck you’re so hot baby. how bad do you want it”

“so bad, please please please put it in baby” i beg

he slides his cock in slowly and i whimper at the feeling of his member filling my hole

“fuck chris. i forget how big you are” i whisper in a whine

he bends his head to meet a kiss on my lips as he starts to slide in and out

“you’re so perfect for me baby, don’t ever forget that.” he says through grunts

“you’re mine. only mine” he continues

i continue to let the praise wash over me as he pounds inside me

“i want you to say it for me baby. say that you’re mine” he says while picking up the pace

“im yours chris” i whimper

“say that you’re my pretty little girl” he demands

“im your pretty little girl chris only yours” i continue to whine

“yes baby. say that you’re an good girl” he continues

“i’m such a good gir- fuck. i’m the best girl”

“yes keep saying it baby, i want to hear you louder” he groans

“i’m a good girl chris. i’m such a good girl. i’m only your good girl. i’m a good girl.” i continue as i feel my orgasm overtake my stomach

chris’ pace quickens as he feels my pussy clench around him

“ooh fuck chris. don’t stop.” i beg him as i ride my high out

“i’m gonna cum too baby” chris cries

“yes baby cum in me. fill me up” i moan out to him

he throws his head up and lets out a loud exhale from his mouth as he releases his all into me

“oh my go- fuck.” says chris

i start chuckling

“what’s so funny” he says as he starts looking down at me

“nothing. i just love you so much” i reply

“well i love you more baby. i hope you never have to question my love for you”

he pulls out of me and helps me up so we can wipe me down and put my clothes on

“i hope that took all your worries and stress away princess” he says as he gives me a quick kiss on the forehead

———————————————————————

a/n- i don’t know if i’m tagging right but @sturnioloenthusiast @littlebookworm803 <3

[batfamtv]

request: ethan breastfeeding 💏

ethan landry x reader

a/n: i wrote this while the tiktok audio “number 9: breastfeeding, number 12: cock” plays on repeat in my head

-

ethan has been your rock since you gave birth to your baby. however, what you dont know is that he’s been feeling horrible about himself. he feels like a terrible partner, and an even worse father.

why, just why, cant he stop himself from feeling all warm and fuzzy whenever he sees you breastfeeding your baby? he really shouldn’t be, right? but whenever you cradle your infant into your arms and guide them mouth into your nipple, ethan would just be sitting there quietly, hard as a rock. he never wanted to broach this topic to you, maybe ever, until one night.

“fuck, this really hurts,” he hears you moan beside him. he sits up to find you massaging your breasts (he hates how his cock automatically twitches at the sight), and moves to comfort you when he sees you crying, “what’s wrong, baby?”

“i already fed the baby,” you whine, pouting, “i also pumped, but i’m already so full and sore.”

his eyes land on your tits, hands flying out involuntarily to cup them, relishing your sighs of relief. they’re heavy in his hands, with milk. yours.

“momma,” he whispers, so quietly that you thought you just imagined it at first, “can i help?”

you raise your eyebrows, “you wanna help me, baby?” he nods frantically, now moving to rest his head on your lap.

he whines loudly when you pull your shirt up, revealing your breasts, now resting on his face. he moves one hand to softly rub the tent in his pants. ethan nuzzles closer, feeling the softness of your tits on his cheeks, “warm…” before sticking his tongue out and barely grazes it on your nipple.

ethan looks up at you, mouthing, “please?” with your nod, he closes his lips around one peaked nipple.

“fuck, ethan,” you groan, arching your breasts forward towards him. you raise one hand to gently grip his hair.

ethan pulls away a little, watching your face scrunched up in pleasure as he sloppily flicks his tongue in one nipple, before moving to the other one. then, he raises his hand on squeeze your breasts gently, and sucks.

surprised at the feeling of ethan simultaneously squeezing your breast and sucking, you feel the familiar warm and tingling sensation flowing to your breasts and you can barely react before ethan moans loudly.

a squirt of something warm and sweet lands on his tongue and he realizes it’s your milk.

“fuck, mommy,” he whines into your breasts, now suckling harder to get as much as he can before you push him away, “taste s’good,” he whimpers, his mouth quickly filling up with milk that some had dribbled down the sides of his mouth. he softly humps the air, wishing to be relieved of the aching tension of his cock, but he couldn’t get enough of you.

everything you have given him, either the juices of your cunt, or the milk that you use to sustain your child, they all taste like nectar to him.

he whines when you gently pull him away, looking up at you in a dazed, almost milk drunk expression that resembles that look your baby gives you when they’re also milk drunk and full.

“you emptied me,” you tell him with a giggle, before moving your thumb to wipe the dribbling milk off the sides of his mouth, “i got no more milk for you.”

ethan shifts so he is kneeling beside you, hands on the waistband of his pants, “i have some for you if you want.”

you laugh, before leaning in for a kiss.

[midnightcrw]

Little Vase

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x fem!reader

Summary: Your daughter, Daisy, is trying to find something

a/n: This was inspired by one of the reblogs @connorsui made about my one-shot "Awake." I just got a bit inspired and thought that this would be a good idea. You don't have to read the "Mama's Boy" one-shot I wrote, but there is a little bit of a reference. I hope you all will like it, especially @connorsui , since she always reblogs my stories and leaves sweet messages

The few weeks didn't seem to go so well as Daisy started to doubt herself more and more each day because of school.

Daisy wasn't dumb and she knew that, well, she used to know that, but now every day felt like an endless, boring routine that she couldn't find any joy in.

"What's with the dull face?" Your voice was heard from behind her as she just realized that you were watching her. And usually she wasn't the one to cry, but seeing you brought tears to her eyes.

"I..." she tried to start the sentence, but cut herself off as she suddenly began to sob softly.

Immediately you went to her side and embraced her as you let her cry her heart out to you about the fact that she had been feeling terrible about herself.

"Daisy, look at me," you said, but your daughter just buried her face in your chest, "please," and she looked up. Just like Simon, whenever the word "please" fell from your lips, they always listened.

Her eyes were red from crying as you could almost feel your heart breaking, "You're not dumb, okay? You're so smart, everything you do is perfect, and there's nothing wrong with you and your accomplishments. It's okay to fail, it's okay to feel sad, but what's not okay is to insult yourself. You're my daughter, you're your dad's daughter, and you're perfect. There hasn't been a single day that I regret having you and no matter what you do, I will always support you" It was even difficult for you to speak without a wavering tone because the hatred Daisy felt for herself reminded you all too much of Simon's thoughts about himself.

A single tear slid down Daisy's face as she only nodded, obviously too scared to say anything that might make her burst out in tears again.

Suddenly, an idea popped into your head "How about we both go to the park?"

Rattling drawers and frantic footsteps could be heard as Simon began to frown at what was going on downstairs. From the footsteps alone and the loud noise, Simon could tell that it wasn't you, but most likely Daisy.

And when the noises didn't stop for the next five minutes, he started to go downstairs when he saw his daughter running through the whole living room, probably trying to find something by throwing opening more drawers.

"You need something?" Simon's gruff voice was barely audible as Daisy just kept going, only giving him a glance.

"Teenagers," he muttered under his breath. Everyone always told him that once your child was a teenager, it would be one of the most confusing years, and Simon definitely understood.

Sometimes she didn't answer, sometimes she got angry and only in the rarest of moments she was at peace, but Simon could never be mad at her.

He had been a mess his whole life until he met you, so if there was one person who could relate, it would definitely be him.

"Little lady, what's the matter?" He asked, knowing that using 'little lady' would make her react, since she didn't like that nickname.

The rattling stopped for a moment as Daisy turned to face him. One... two... three-

"Don't call me that!" There it is, he thought as a triumphant smile made its way across his face.

His daughter just gave an annoyed huff as she continued her search. Simon could only roll his eyes as he watched her. At least you're not at home right now, because you'd probably be angry about the mess she's currently making.

The pillows are on the floor, the drawers are wide open, and the contents are spread out on the floor.

"You're going to clean that up," he said, though Daisy didn't respond back, almost even tripping over the carpet, but before he could rush over she was already back on her feet.

Shaking his head, he made his way to the coffee table where several things were lying in front of it, crouching down with a pop from his knee and a silent 'fuck', cursing softly as he began to pick up some of the items.

"You're getting old," Daisy declared in an amused tone as Simon shot her a look across the room, "We'll see who's laughing when you're in your thirties, because I held up pretty well in the military. You complain while you get the remote control," he replied gruffly as he resigned himself to sitting on the floor and putting the items back in the drawer from there.

"Also, answer my question, Missy," he threw one of her soft childhood toys at her head as she said "ouch"

"So dramatic," he exclaimed as Daisy just narrowed her eyes at him and threw the toy back, trying to hit his head with it, but Simon caught it.

"Fucking reflexes," she cursed quietly, but not quiet enough as he heard her. "Language!" He scolded her in a stern tone.

"You were the one who taught me the word."

"And I regret it every day," Simon said in a hushed voice as he felt shivers run down his spine.

He remembered how angry you were with him when the second word Daisy said as a baby was "fuck" and not "mom".

Slowly getting to his feet after closing the drawer, Simon rubbed his lower back, his eyebrows furrowed at the unpleasant sensation, and it seemed that Daisy had finally found what she was looking for as she immediately rushed into the kitchen, him following her.

Standing in the door frame, his daughter began to fill a vase with water as she placed several daisies in it.

And then a picture of Simon's mother flashed before his eyes. The sight of her putting daisies in a little vase to display in the kitchen when he was a little boy.

"Why?" The sudden question made the teenager turn around with her eyebrows raised in confusion. "The flowers," he said as Daisy understood.

"Two days ago, Mom and I went to the park and she told me some of the meanings of flowers. She said that daisies mean new beginnings, so I went to get some today," there was a little sparkle in her eyes, obviously wanting to believe in a new beginning for herself.

You had told him that she was upset and why she was upset, but he didn't know that you had told her the meanings.

Simon could only watch as she continued, "I'm sure Mom already told you that I cried and I want to be more confident, so maybe this will be a good start," her tone was enthusiastic as she smiled, revealing her dimples.

Just like her, he thought.

When Simon's mother told him about the flowers and smiled, her dimples were also visible. Deep and sunken and something he remembered quite well. Unfortunately, he never got the dimples he wished for because they reminded him of his mother, but Daisy had them.

And now it hit him even harder as he looked at his little girl, who at that moment almost resembled his own mother. Sparkling eyes, smiling face, dimples all visible.

Oh and how he yearned for Daisy to meet his mother, she would have been her grandmother now, but sadly Daisy never got to meet her.

"Dad, is everything-" before she could finish the sentence, she was engulfed by Simon's arms around her, holding her tightly against him as tears streamed down his face, his lip trembling as he bit onto his lower lip, trying to keep himself from sobbing.

Although Daisy was confused at the sudden embrace, she began to wrap her arms around him as Simon inhaled her scent shakily while he ran a hand through her hair and kissed the crown of her head.

"Love you, kid," he whispered softly.

"Love you too," she said as she let her head lay on his chest.

"I'm home," you said as you walked into the living room, where you saw Simon and Daisy sleeping in each other's arms as you smiled fondly.

Quietly, you took the blanket that was lying on the couch as you placed it gently over them, not wanting to wake them, but Simon has always been a light sleeper as he opened his eyes and immediately asked if you had told her.

"Told her what?" You asked back with confusion laced in your tone.

Your husband gestured toward the kitchen, whose door was already open, and you frowned at first until you saw the daisies in a vase.

"Well, I never told her that your mother used to do that," you confessed, as you could see Simon visibly swallowing as his Adam's apple moved.

"Just like her," he finally murmured what he had been thinking, "I wish she was still alive to see her," Simon said with a strained voice as you sat down next to him and kissed his cheek gently.

"I'm sure your mother would have loved her. She's probably watching you right now, and let me tell you, she's so proud of you, Simon," you whispered as Simon moved his head to kiss your lips with his trembling ones

Letting them linger for a moment before he pressed more fleeting kisses all over your face as you held his face in your hands to stop him with a chuckle.

Thank you, Simon mouthed silently with adoration in his eyes.

[demigod-shenanigans]

While I’m on the topic of Valgrace adopting a child, this is Sofía:

Some lore:

When Jason and Leo are in their late twenties/early thirties a demigod legacy leaves a baby at the entrance of the Waystation. The decision to adopt her is easy—they’d been thinking about adoption anyway. Besides, Jason has been the abandoned child before and Leo obviously isn’t fond of the foster system and knows exactly what it’s like to feel unwanted by a foster family. They’ve both felt so lost and alone and unloved in the past and they immediately vow that they’ll do everything in their power to make sure this little girl won’t ever feel like that.

They name her Sofía Esperanza Valdez. Sofía because it’s one of the names they both liked and Leo decides she just looks like a Sofía, and Esperanza obviously in honor of Leo’s mom. Jason is the one to gently suggest using it as a middle name, stating that if names have power, there’s nothing quite as powerful as hope, and Leo immediately starts crying. (He knew he wanted to honor his mom in some way. He just didn’t bring it up because he was terrified that the baby sharing a name with his mom after what happened to her might be bad luck. But Jason is right that hope was the thing that saw them through when nothing else would, making it a name that’s fundamentally very positive. Besides, Leo’s mom was so much more than her death. She was smart and brave and stubborn and loved with all her heart. She managed to find happiness, even in the difficult times. All of these are good things.)

Me and @queenjunothegreat have been waffling back and forth about this girl for weeks, there is so much lore I’ll probably need a lot of posts for all of it (or asks, if anyone wants to know anything specific please feel free to send asks)

For now, have some additional Sofía fun facts (under the cut so people who aren’t interested can scroll past more easily):

-She’s a legacy of Luna, the faded Titaness of the moon. Piper thinks it’s hilarious that wolf boy somehow ended up with a moon child and jokes about it a lot.

-When she wouldn’t sleep as a baby Jason would rock her while levitating up and down the hallway. They’re not sure why, exactly, but this almost always worked.

-Sofía’s first word is papa, which is not, in fact, the Spanish word for dad that Jason was going for but instead means either pope or potato (depending on how it’s gendered). The word for dad is papá, which is similar-ish but emphasizes the ending instead of the beginning. Adult Jason’s Spanish is decent but he got it mixed up which part needed to be emphasized and taught her wrong. Leo absolutely explodes into laughter when he hears it and it’s one of his favorite stories to tell for years. Every time someone asks about her first word he lights up like a Christmas tree. Jason is mortified but the whole thing brings Leo so much joy that maybe the embarrassment was worth it.

-Leo is always building her stuff to play with. Sofía is the kind of kid that brings some new toy to kindergarten/school at least once a week because Leo cannot tell her no for shit.

-Leo is usually the one who stays up at night with Sofía when she’s a toddler. Due to the whole moon child thing, she’s a terrible sleeper (good luck waking her in the morning) but Leo doesn’t really mind. He’s just tinkering away at some project that he’d probably be working on at that time anyway as his very awake kid toddles about and they’re both perfectly content with it. They fall asleep on the couch together watching TV the next morning, and Jason just smiles and gets a blanket to put over Leo’s knees.

-Her and Leo definitely bake together and it usually comes out well but the kitchen is always a huge mess after. One time she insisted her dad help her make a birthday cake for her papá’s birthday but Jason cannot cook or bake to save his life and it was a complete disaster.

-Sofía has no concept of fall damage. Absolutely none. Will climb up anywhere no matter how high and jump off with zero hesitation because there’s never been a time when her dad hasn’t caught her (either personally via flying up or with the winds). Leo is way more anxious about this than Jason, which seems strange until you consider that Jason is married to Leo and has had to catch him plenty of times in the past, but while Leo worries about Jason sometimes, he’s never really had to worry specifically about Jason falling from high places before. But obviously, unlike Jason, Sofía can’t fly.

-When she’s annoyed, she scowls in a way that’s almost comically similar to Jason.

[happyhauntt]

famous last words — james potter

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: you and james are sworn enemies. you quite like it that way.

─── pairing: james potter x quidditch player!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, banter, swearing. if you're a reader of my cedric series oh, captain! then you might find this familiar, it's a reworked version of chapter three. this was so much fun honestly i love sassy stuff like this.

─── word count: 2.1k.

     BY THE TIME THE TRAIN WHISTLES ITS ARRIVAL AT HOGSMEADE STATION, all you really want to do is go to bed. The golden glow of warmth has suffused your bones completely, lulling you into a delightfully sleepy state. You're curled up against the window when your friend Beth jostles you awake and practically carries you off the train, where you are utterly unsurprised to learn that the weather is terrible.

     The downpour does a spectacular job at waking you up. Droplets of freezing rain slip past the collar of your shirt and down your spine before you manage to pull your cardigan up over your head. A disgruntled scowl tugs at your lips as you race ahead of Beth to get a space on one of the carriages. Once you are safely situated in the dry, you look out into the rain, expecting to see Beth scarpering up the platform right behind you. Instead, she's sauntering towards the carriage, a wide smirk on her face, happy and dry beneath one of the big black umbrellas Hagrid is handing out on the platform.

     You frown, folding your arms over your chest, feeling distinctly soggy. Beth climbs into the carriage, giggling as she sits down beside you. You merely stick your tongue out at her.

     "Hey," Beth says, folding the umbrella back up before raising her hands in defence, accidentally splashing you both with rainwater, "you're the one who ran away. Don't blame me for being more observant."

     "I reject that," you reply indignantly. Beth offers up a hair tie from her wrist and you take it, still scowling, to tie your damp hair into a messy ponytail. "I am absolutely observant. Just not... all the time." Which basically means where sports isn't involved. Teachers have noted in their reports that you're easily distracted in class, with a mind that tends to wander rather than focus on the task at hand. Your mother used to call it butterfly brain. Thoughts light as air, settling down on one flower for a few moments until a prettier, more interesting flower comes into view. She didn't mean to make you feel bad about that, but it doesn't help when all your teachers are saying the same thing.

     The prettier flower is usually Quidditch. With a muggle upbringing, you hadn't been exposed to the brilliance of magic until a mysterious letter appeared on your eleventh birthday (delivered, you recall, stern-faced woman in peculiar emerald robes. If you'd known then that Professor McGonagall's first impression of you would be a wide-eyed child whose front tooth had just been knocked loose by a rogue cricket bat, well, you probably would've died of embarrassment. Now she's your Head of House. And most unfortunately, that's not the only time she's seen you missing a few teeth.) When you got to Hogwarts and saw students playing Quidditch for the first time, whizzing like arrows through the air on actual broomsticks— You'd been in love with the sport ever since.

     Almost every corner of your brain is taken up by Quidditch. A hundred different game plans and plays running on repeat. So Beth is totally wrong; you are very observant., and you are never more observant than when your eye is on the prize.

     This time, though, the prize was shelter. Skittering off through the downpour to get to the carriage without properly checking your surroundings wasn't the smartest route, but it worked. Sort of.

     Your pride hurts a little bit.

     Beth's just about done laughing at you when a knock on the carriage exterior catches your attention. A familiar face appears at the door. "Is there any room in here?" James Potter's smile is crooked, and his dark hair is damp and floppy from the rain, water dripping from the strands into his face. Bright eyes dart back forth between you and Beth, and suddenly you remember that only almost every corner of your brain is occupied by Quidditch.

     There's a stubborn little spot right in the middle, little more than a speck, really — but it's filled with nothing else but James fucking Potter.

     "There was a mass exodus from the train as soon as it arrived," he continues as his glasses start to fog up, "and the only other carriage left is full of second-years."

     Oh, you feel that one in your soul. Second-years are okay, sometimes, but usually they're excitable, too ready for the start of another year at magic school, and thus only bearable in small doses. By third year, the excitement is all about getting to choose which classes you take, and you understand this to a degree (you chose Divination, which sounded cool at the time but was an absolute fucking mistake, because you might enjoy the spooky muggle stuff but predicting the deaths of all your friends is not fucking fun, no matter how good your end-of-year grade was for it ) but the novelty quickly wears off.

     You suppose that's why James has chosen to risk his life by sitting in a confined space with you, instead. The three of you are well-seasoned veterans of Hogwarts and its bullshit by this point and, as a result, are appropriate company.

     The fact that both of you are his teammates is probably a nice bonus, too.

     You, however, offer a merciless smirk. James Potter is, without doubt, your worst enemy, and it fills you up with glee to inconvenience him at any opportunity. "You snooze, you lose, Potter. Off to the second-years you go!" You even make a shooing motion, just for good measure.

     Beth smacks your arm and rolls her eyes, offering James a pleasant smile. "There's loads of room, ignore them," she says, and while you're busy dramatically rubbing your arm and muttering expletives, James takes a seat on the bench opposite you. Rain hammers against the roof, somehow louder than it was a moment ago, and a self-satisfied grin creeps onto his face as the carriage begins its journey to the castle.

     "Where are the rest of the merry morons, then?" You ask, quirking a brow at him. You're pretty sure you can count on one hand the number of times you've seen James without at least one of his comrades in mischief. Frankly, it's rarer than spotting a unicorn in the wild. You wonder if you should take a picture to commemorate the occasion.

     He looks sheepish as he pulls his glasses off to wipe away the condensation. "Lost a bet."

     He doesn't elaborate, and you don't care enough to ask him to. You've been at school with them long enough to know that, honestly, it's probably best not to know.

     Beth reaches out and plucks a stray leaf from your hair. She waves it in your face, tickling your nose gently before letting it flutter to the ground. You slip your hand into hers, linking your fingers together. Beth is soft and sweet when she wants to be, and you're certain there's not a soul in the world who knows you this well. She has wormed her way into your heart, and you'd have to carve it out of your chest to be rid of her now.

     "Does anyone know who our captain is yet?" You ask aloud, after a few seconds of silence have passed. You're tired enough to curl up on the floor of the carriage and fall asleep right then and there, lulled by its gentle rocking and pitter-patter of the rain, but you should probably be conversational. There's very little worse than awkward silence, especially with James sitting there, staring at you with that dopey half-smirk on his face.

     You want to smack him. You want him to think you're extraordinary. You're not quite sure how to cope with such emotional extremes, but there they are, coexisting at the front of your mind. They war with each other, an itch you can't scratch because if you, you'll keep going until there's blood.

     His, preferably.

     It's not even that you hate James. Not really. You used to, only a year or so ago, because he made it so easy. With his smug little smile and the skip in his step, with his quips and jokes and way his hair curls over his brow, you'd fucking despised him. He'd set himself up as your rival back in second year, when you made the Gryffindor team at the same time. With the blurred stretch of years between then and now, you can't remember quite how it began, or what he did precisely that sparked this eternal grudge, but what followed is years of goading one another, pushing and pushing and pushing to outdo one another.

     The rivalry has made you so much better than you ever could have dreamed. Quidditch is your life and honestly, without James Potter, you're not sure where you'd be with it. Still good, perhaps. But maybe not very nearly the best.

     (You'll die before you tell him that, though. Or he will. You're not that picky and he does seem to have a death wish.)

     The carriage jolts as one of the wheels dips into a pothole. The thought of skipping the feast entirely sneaking past Professor McGonagall to go straight to your dorm is a tempting prospect. You know Beth won't let you do it, because if she has to sit through Dumbledore's speech then she'll drag you down with her, but it might be worth a shot.

     The silence persists for a few more seconds, growing steadily more awkward. When no one responds to your question, you press on. "We should've heard by now, right? Team captains get picked in the summer, and we need a new one because Hilary graduated last year." Do you sound a little bit agitated by your teammates' lack of urgency? Yes. Just a touch. But the look on Beth's face is fucking suspicious, and James... Well. He looks like he'd rather die.

     You narrow your eyes. "What are you not telling me? Spit it out, the pair of you."

     James coughs once, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he does so. For once the typical arrogance is gone, washed away with the rain. He looks dreadfully uncomfortable, turning bright red as he bashfully says, "Well. Uh. I am, I suppose. The new captain, that is." He has the good sense to look frightened.

     You hope, suddenly, that his cough means he caught pneumonia or something. Nothing fatal, obviously, but just enough to put him out of commission for a little while. You don't really mean it (you're not quite as horrible as some people would like to think) because James is one of the best on the team. Sometimes, you'll begrudgingly admit that he's even the best on the team   ━   but only if you get to be second best, obviously.

     Which is why you're a little shocked, of course, but not surprised. Not surprised at all, because he is good. Even as you sit there, pondering the many ways you could kill him and make it look like an accident, you know he's good. Too fucking good.

     Which is why you say, "Tell me you're kidding."

     James furrows his brows. "I'm not kidding?"

     You can feel Beth's shoulders shaking beside you, trying desperately to smother her amused cackles. James' expression softens a little as he realises this is a joke, sort of, and he begins to grin.

     "No, really," you say, this time the hint of a smile forming on your own lips, "tell me you're kidding. I'm begrudgingly proud and all that, because it had to be one of us," you wave your free hand at him, you'll have the captaincy one day, "but also, like, tell me it's a joke."

     "Why?"

     "Because I'm genuinely considering pushing you out of this carriage."

     James shrugs his shoulders, as if to say 'yeah, that's fair.' He gets it, he really does. You love that someone gets it. "It's not a joke, I'm afraid. Better luck next time, though!" He says it in a jolly tone of voice, and oh, you hate him.

     That's the thing with the two of you. You're sworn enemies, right, but you make each other better. He tries harder because you light a fire under his arse and bloody hell, you're itching for a chance to burn him, and vice versa.

      So you smirk, now. Square your shoulders. You've baited him into a competition, and you are absolutely ready to deliver. "Famous last words, Potter. Famous last words."

[vivgst]

COD Headcanons

I mean they're not hc it's just shit I think they say/do but I needed the title okay?

As I previously said this is just my silly little opinion, I would love to read yours but don't take this too personal and I'm saying this cause Imma bout to write SHIT about two characters and I'm scared cause they're loved by the whole fandom.

Okay thats all thanks<3333

Let's start with my favorite piece of shit, shall we?

Alejandro Vargas

I don't care what yall say this man is a CHEATER and he would make you feel guilty about it too because you're not "meeting his needs".

“I’m not sexist???? We cannot do the same things, it's basic biology!”

Maybe he's good in bed, let's give him that.

Alain meza said he loved Rudy so let's assume he's bi, uh... he wouldn't admit that shit, not in a million years, probably would get offended if you even dare to suggest it.

He doesn’t argue to fix things, he argues to repeat how much in the right he is, I feel like he NEVER admits he’s in the wrong, he seems very stubborn.

Now can we address that fucking temper of his? Breathe mf, no ones gonna die if you stop yelling for a second.

I feel like he must’ve had A LOT of trouble when he just joined the army because of his anger issues, think about it for a moment: someone with a higher rank yelling at him and you think he just took it? I doubt it.

MUST HAVE fought with Valeria more than once cause that temper of hers is just as shitty.

I promise I don’t hate him, well I do but he’s one of my favs, I don’t know how to explain this bye.

Simon Riley

He’s very chill I love him <3

I think of him like a very nostalgic man, he thinks a lot about his past, past lovers, past experiences, when he was new in the army, you know? Not in a “I’m still traumatized” way, he’s just nostalgic.

He’s absent minded, he’s always daydreaming (when he’s not doing something important ofc).

Thin and I don’t fucking care, THAT MAN IS THIN, you can even see it sometimes!!!! He’s got chicken legs, I love them.

He really seems to enjoy dad jokes.

He cares a lot about his teammates and I love it, it’s very cute.

Can we talk about how everyone put him as a fucking beast in bed? I don't see it, I think he's ruthless when he needs to but I don't think this applies when it comes to sex, he suffered a lot too and sadly I know too well that sex is pretty fucking terrible after rape, especially because you feel like you're gonna hurt the person you're having sex with so...

John MacTavish

Typa guy everyone loves, even your dad and your grandma's always saying how handsome he is.

Maybe he was bullied bc of his accent but he just told them to go fuck themselves.

Caring and loving, buys his partner flowers and their favorite candy/chocolates/desserts.

Remembers anniversaries, birthdays, medical or school appointments.

Too charismatic and funny.

Kyle Garrick

He’s too good for his own good… I feel like he always end up going out with INSANE people, the jealous type, they’re always bitching and making him angry and stressed but he forgives them cause he’s an angel.

Very sweet, loves cooking for people he loves.

Kinda family oriented.

He smells good, I can almost smell his perfumeeeeee he smells good, he spends MONEY on it too.

Even the devil is afraid of him when he’s mad.

I think he's very private about his life in general, doesn't like to vent his problems.

Hot lover.

John Price

Now this man is a FATHER, my fucking dad I swear.

He seems pretty conservative to me, not in a bad way like he wants you to be his personal maid and slave, more like he wants to date to marry, hates casual sex.

Loves whiskey.

Dad energy, he would be so caring and loving with his child, he would give that baby the moon.

I don’t think he would love to date a younger woman, not a woman in her twenties at least, I think he would be into women his age.

If you feel disappointment by that, maybe you could try fixing your relationship with your dad, sweetheart ;).

Hates confrontation and loves to work things out.

Let’s not talk about how sex with be with the old man, okay? Thanks.

He's not that old, I get that but he looks like he's fucking 68.

Phillip Graves

He looks kinda daddy in that pic, not gonna lie.

“How come you don’t want to have sex? What about me? Have you thought about how that makes me feel? If your head hurts, sex would help but you never consider me, I’ll sleep in the couch”.

A selfish, self-centered bitch, only thinks about himself.

Feeling good having sex with him? Aw baby, try again cause this mf would use you like a damn toy and he couldn’t care less about your feelings or how much pain you’re in.

Cheater, he wouldn’t even be quiet about it. “Oh you want to divorce me? And where are you gonna go, sugar? You’re nothing without me”.

Doesn’t fucking know where the clit is, he doesn’t have a fucking clue.

Of course straight, loves to be white and American.

“Of course I can say whatever I want, I’m from America I have freedom of speech”.

Fuck you graves.

Rodolfo Parra

Perfect.

He seems so sweet and kind and considerate I love him.

Smart as hell, probably got the best grades when he was a kid.

Doesn’t hate anyone, no one hates him.

Loves nature and animals but he can’t enjoy it too much cause he is always busy.

Dreams about having a big family and a dog (a golden, probably).

Forget about having rough sex UNLESS he’s mad (fr mad like losing his shit but that doesn’t happen frequently).

Could be a teacher if he wasn’t in the army, he’s very patient and can explain things easily.

Have a pretty smile.

Valeria Garza aka MAMI

Feels like she needs to prove something, she was underestimated for so long in the army that now she’s always trying to prove to herself how badass and good at her job she is.

Almost no one knows the real Valeria, her favorite things, music taste, if she prefers cold or hot, coffee or tea etc.

She hates cold weather with all her MIGHT.

Likes to smoke only when she’s stressed.

Likes animals but thinks they’re so much work and she doesn’t have the time.

Did drugs once and hated it.

Feels guilty when she spots a church but she WOULD NEVER admit this shit to anyone.

Used to the worst of life so she didn’t like when someone is kind with her, is like “tf am I supposed to do with it???” but she gets used to it eventually.

I don’t think she has anger issues but def she doesn’t fucking know how to regulate her emotions, she lets stress take over her.

She would love a narcowife, kind of woman who wears a lot of beachy dresses and have a shitty personality like her (like Kate del Castillo in La Reina del Sur or in Bad Boys, exactly that kind of narcowife) (I’m kinda projecting, sorry lol).

I can’t picture her with a sweet girl and I think a sweet girl wouldn’t be able to handle that woman.

She keeps arguing even though she realized she’s in the wrong.

She wouldn't be able to spend a lot of time with her S.O, she's such a workaholic.

I don't think she likes to wear men clothes.

I don't think she hates kids but I can't picture her with kids.

Wouldn't divorce once she's married.

Btw I didn’t want to make this too sexual bc lately this fandom is full of just that, too much smut, too much violence and rape in the smut and it’s so graphic that I feel I’m watching instead of reading wtf, its uncomfortable and I honestly can’t picture the characters being that violent and vile.

As I said in my previous hcs… these guys are surrounded by violence, stress and blood every day, I personally don’t think they wanna get home to torture their partners (well, maybe graves cause he is a piece of shit that mf. Okay kidding, not even Graves is that much of a bastard).