#real talk i fought for my LIFE on those hands

[seven-winged-liar]

Like a mosquito in amber...

Rambling under the cut ⬇️

okay this might all go in a separate reblog but

Inspired by that one post talking about needing more art covering John's mouth

Also combined it with an old concept i've had in the microwave for quite some time based on F+TM's Rabbit Heart, it did however get much darker as i kept working on it so :/ no sunlight here

John HCs

John's eyes work like Crowleys in the respect that whether or not there is a defined iris is based on how much distress he is in, how much he feels human in that moment, etc

John starts out with a whole mask, slowly loses it over the course of the show, Yellow's mask is all of the pieces that have fallen off of John's

Once John gets his own body, he has sensory issues, esp visual overstimulation

Have a B&W cause I think it looks cool

[evie-sturns]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

summary: you and chris have a major argument, which results in you storming out of you and chris's house. he regrets everything, but it results in him saying 'i love you' for the first time.

warnings: angst, swearing, argument, crying, fluff, happy ending!

-----------------*＊✿❀○❀✿＊*--------------------

me and chris have been dating for two months, we've never fought, i mean we've bickered, but never a real argument. we've done alot together, we have a house together, 2 cats, we've hooked up tens of times, but never said those 3 words.

'i love you'.

i think both of us are just terrified of scaring the other person away.

-

"chris! i'm home!" i say, walking through the front door as i put my purse down.

no response.

chris is sitting on the couch, my phone on his lap.

"why do you have my phone baby?" I say, jumping down next to him.

"i think we both know." his voice is filled with emotion, he clenched the pepsi can in his right hand tighter.

i reach out a hand, placing it gently on his thigh, he grabs my wrist and throws my hand towards me, my shoulder is tweaked slightly.

"don't fucking touch me!" he says, looking at me in disgust, raising his voice as he stands up.

my eyebrows furrow from pure confusion as i follow him, standing up and facing him.

"tell me whats happening christopher." i say sternly, my shoulder pulses from the sudden jolt.

chris knows when i use his full name i mean it, i don't just throw it around because of how formal it is.

chris glares down at me before slamming the pepsi can to the floor.

"all these fucking months, all these hookups, all these deep talks, everything meant nothing to you?!" he yells, my heart sinks, ive never liked people yelling at me.

i've always had an attitude, chris knows how to deal with it.

"look, if you dont open your fucking mouth instead of flaming me for something i don't even know, i'm out of here yeah?" i snap back, folding my arms.

"you're so pathetic." he mutters, pushing my shoulder back.

"stop touching me chris!" i scream. squeezing my eyes shut and clenching my fists like a toddler.

he scoffs.

a silence grows before i flop down on the couch, clutching my shoulder. i pat the spot next to me, signalling for him to sit down, hoping we can talk it out.

he takes a step back before yelling, "go call mark, cause he clearly loves you so much!" his voice cracking.

my eyes widen.

"so fuck you!" he yells, i stand up.

his cheeks are flushed his eyes are glossy, chris's bottom lip is quivering.

my gaze softens, but instantly flicks back to a harsh one as chris starts again.

"im done with you're shit y/n, go home! for once in your life just leave. me. alone." he says, his tone cold.

i've never cried in front of chris, i don't cry often and if i do, im always alone. but the way he was looking at me broke something in me.

several tears fall down my cheek as i look up at chris. the tears increase as i just stare at him, his mouth gapes slightly. his eyebrows tilt up above his nose.

i push past him, grabbing my purse and running out the door, chris is speed-walking after me, before i slam the door shut, i yell out.

"by the way chris. mark is my fucking dad." my voice shakes as the tears don't slow.

an audible gasp escapes from chris's lips right before the door shuts.

-

two days ago i stormed through the door to my best friends house, sobbing as she comforted me.

i haven’t texted chris in those two days, but he’s been spamming my phone nonstop.

I sigh, sitting my head up off my best friend, amelia’s chest. “you okay?” she asks, pausing the movie which is playing on her macbook.

“did you not hear?” i ask, adjusting my sweater

“hear what..?” she asks, her eyebrowints furrowing in confusion

“you’re doorbell just rang, i’ll go get it okay?” i say, giving amelia a warm smile as i run downstairs.

i open the door, my heart sinks.

“chris?” i say, taking a nervous step back

his hand is clutched onto a stuffed animal, and a hand picked flower, which is dropping to the side slightly now. chris’s eyes are swollen, his nose red.

“i- uh.. um.” he stammers looking around

i stay silent, waiting for him to start,

he holds a hand out “can we go sit in my car i uh..” he says, his voice cracking

chris has always said his car is his comfort place, the area he feels safest, so i don’t shut him down yet.

i take his hand “amelia! i’ll be back in a few minutes” i yell as i close the front door behind me.

the walk down the driveway is silent, i can feel chris’s hand growing more sweaty by the second. he opens the door for me, the passenger seat has a blanket on it, with a packet of painkillers resting in the middle.

“what’s the pills for?” i ask, looking over my shoulder at chris.

“your shoulder..” he says, a guilty expression plastered across his face.

i nod understandably, sitting down in the car seat.

chris walks over to the driver side, climbing inside.

he lets out an audible swallow before opening his mouth to speak, nothing comes out.

“shit.. sorry ‘m really nervous..” chris says, holding onto a pepsi can.

“i’m so sorry, for even assuming the worst. i feel like an absolute goof for thinking your dad was another person..” he pauses for a second, quickly rubbing his under eyes

“and i was just hurt, i don’t even know why i thought mark was someone else, i should’ve never touched you i feel like shit about that too, and i’ve never seen you cry, so seeing what i had done to effect you just shattered my heart, i just don’t want to loose you and i.. i” he takes in a deep breath

“i love you.”

the rest of his words don’t get through to me, my heart is fluttering, i look over at him, chris’s cheeks are flushed red as his mouth moves quicker than his brain, i lean over the centre console, shutting him up with a kiss.

after a few seconds i pull away, “i love you too christopher.”

-

i run back inside, thanking amelia and telling her everything chris said, amelia is practically crying tears of joy as she hugs me, “go go! go back to his house i love you y/n!” she says, a smile spread ear to ear on her face.

i run back outside to chris, climbing inside his car.

the rest of the conversations go like this.

“are you sure your shoulders okay?”

“chris you barely touched me.”

“no but i made you cry y/n.”

“yeah, not because of the shoulder sweetheart.”

“well i told matt and nick what happened and then ordered a private doctor to come assess you..”

“chris.”

——————————————————————————

ayeee hope y’all like!!

[goldfades]

★ THOUGHT OF CALLIN' YA, BUT YOU WON'T PICK UP / 'NOTHER FORTNIGHT LOST IN AMERICA / MOVE TO FLORIDA IOWA, BUY THE CAR YOU WANT / BUT IT WON'T START UP 'TIL YOU TOUCH, TOUCH, TOUCH ME ─── PB⁵ (part 2/2)

❪ requested -> paige and ex gf!reader that plays on iowa where theres a lot of tension on the court bc they ended on rough terms but u can see that they still care abt each other yet have to prioritize the game // hii could u write for paige x ex gf iowa!reader where they play against each other in the final four and everyone can tell theres sm tension on the court between them bc they ended on rough terms ? they still care abt each other a lot but r forced to put those feelings aside for the sake of the game (but they def had a talk afterwards) - u can make it so that iowa still won or uconn won i think either one would be interesting ! tysm ❫ part one!!!!!!!!!!!!

─ warnings | dramatic as FUCK, resolution type shit, iowa v. uconn but like i changed a bunch of stuff so it's not "canon" to real life LMAO. uhhh angst?? idk?? HAPPY ENDINGGG!!!!!!!

─ ev's notes | i just picked LA sparks cause thats the team i want paige to go to but uh it might not be realistic, also this will make sense when u finish ;)

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APRIL 1, 2024

THE AIR WAS ELECTRIC in the arena as the final buzzer sounded, sealing UConn’s victory over USC in the 2024 NCAA Finals.

Confetti rained down, and the deafening roar of the crowd filled the space as the Huskies celebrated their hard-fought win. Paige Bueckers, at the center of it all, was surrounded by her teammates, hugging and shouting in excitement.

Hours later, the team was at an afterparty, the celebratory atmosphere continuing. Music blared, and laughter filled the room as the players enjoyed their victory. Paige, drink in hand, was beaming, her joy evident to everyone around her. She had worked so hard for this moment, and it was everything she had hoped for. She overcame her ACL injury and everyone who had doubted her, she'd ─ no, they'd ─ made it to the Final Four.

As Paige moved through the crowd, accepting congratulations and sharing in the excitement, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, glancing at the screen. It was a news alert about the NCAA tournament brackets.

"Iowa knocked out LSU," Paige read aloud, her brow furrowing. The notification showed that Iowa had defeated LSU in a close game, securing their spot in the next round. This meant that UConn would be playing against Iowa next, and therefore against Y/N L/N.

The realization hit Paige like a ton of bricks. She stood still for a moment, the noise and celebration around her fading into the background. She was going to have to play against you.

The same Y/N who had been such a significant part of her life (arguably was the most important part), who she had argued with and ultimately lost, who had moved on and found success elsewhere.

A mix of emotions surged through Paige — anxiety, determination, and a hint of sadness. She hadn't seen you played alongside you since your explosive breakup and your transfer to Iowa. Now, they were going to face each other on one of the biggest stages in their collegiate careers.

Nika noticed Paige's sudden change in demeanor and walked over. "Hey, what's up? You look like you've seen a ghost, we won the game, remember?" she tried to lighten the mood as she smiled.

Paige forced a smile, shaking her head slightly. "Nah, it's just... LSU lost to Iowa. We're going to have to play them next."

Nika raised an eyebrow, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Oh. Y/N."

"Yeah," Paige replied, taking a sip of her drink to steady herself. "Y/N."

Aaliyah joined them, catching the tail end of the conversation. "What about Y/N?"

Paige sighed, glancing between her friends. "We're going to play against her in the next round. Iowa knocked LSU out."

Aaliyah gave a sympathetic nod. "Oh shit. That's... that's going to be intense."

"Tell me about it," Paige muttered. She took a deep breath, trying to push aside the personal turmoil and focus on the challenge ahead. "But we have to be ready. This isn't just about me and Y/N. It's about the team. We have to win."

Nika clapped Paige on the shoulder, offering a reassuring smile. "Exactly. And we will. You've got this, P. We'll face whatever comes our way together."

It left a bitter taste in their mouth, Y/N ─ their (besides Paige, obviously) good friend and old teammate ─ now, they had to knock her out or vice versa.

Aaliyah, sensing Paige's inner turmoil, leaned in closer. "Paige, you've always been one of the strongest people we know. You can handle this. And who knows, maybe facing Y/N will bring some closure."

Paige nodded, appreciating Nika's words. "Yeah, maybe. It just feels... complicated."

Nika chimed in, her tone supportive yet firm. "It is complicated, but remember why we're here. We've worked too hard to let anything distract us now. We owe it to ourselves and to our fans to give it our all."

Paige took a deep breath, steeling herself. "You're right. This is about the team and our goal. We need to stay focused."

Aubrey, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke up. "Y/N is a great player, but so are we. We’ve got each other's backs, and that’s what matters. We’re Huskies, and we fight together."

The next day, practice was intense. The team worked tirelessly, their focus razor-sharp. Coach Geno was relentless, pushing them to their limits. Paige appreciated the rigorous drills, as they helped distract her from her thoughts about Y/N.

──

"Didn't you like, date Paige?" Gabbie spoke up as she glanced toward you, a curious expression on her face. "Like, Paige Bueckers at UConn?"

Everyone was in your hotel room, trying to recover from the afterparty last night. LSU was a hard fought win and everyone was really feeling the win, especially after the controversy from last year so obviously that meant drinks with the team.

Gabbie and Jada were on your bed, Kate had her head on your shoulder as Caitlin struggled to keep her eyes open, despite her laying upright in the chair.

Kate's head perked up at the name, looking up to gauge your expression. It'd been a while since someone (other than reporters) asked you about her, your heart skipping a beat at the mention. The only people who really knew what really happened were Caitlin and Kate, you didn't want to open up about it to anyone else.

Caitlin's eyes opened as she gave you a look. She wanted to speak up before you answered, giving her a nod.

"Yeah, uh a while back." You answered with a nervous smile, feeling the weight of everyone's attention. The room, filled with the soft sounds of recovery and idle conversation, seemed to focus in on you for a moment.

Gabbie raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Wow, that's wild. Must be kind of crazy having to play against your ex in such a big game."

Kate shifted slightly, giving you a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. Caitlin, still half-asleep, managed a supportive smile. You appreciated their silent encouragement.

"Yeah, it can be," you admitted, trying to keep your voice steady. "But at the end of the day, it's about the game and the team. We’re all here to win."

Jada, who had been quietly listening, chimed in. "That’s a good mindset. It’s gotta be tough, but you’re been handling it really well. Better than me,"

"Thanks," you replied, feeling a bit more at ease. "I just try to focus on what I can control. And right now, that's playing my best for the team."

Caitlin's eyes fully opened now, her gaze steady on you. "And you've been killing it. We wouldn't be here without you."

"Same goes for you, Cait," you responded, grateful for her unwavering support. "We’re all in this together."

Gabbie still seemed curious but nodded, respecting the boundaries you had set. "Well, for what it's worth, I think it's pretty badass. Turning something tough into motivation like that."

"Yeah," Kate added, her voice gentle. "And besides, we’ve got your back no matter what."

The room fell back into a comfortable rhythm, the conversation shifting to lighter topics. You felt a wave of relief, glad that the subject had been handled with sensitivity by your teammates. It reminded you of why you loved this team so much ─ their understanding, their support, and their ability to focus on what truly mattered.

As the evening wore on, you found yourself thinking about the upcoming game against UConn. It was inevitable that facing Paige would stir up old emotions, but you knew you were ready. Your time with Iowa had been transformative, helping you grow not just as a player, but as a person.

You had a team that believed in you, and you believed in them. That was enough to face any challenge, even one as personal as this.

The next day at practice, the atmosphere was intense but focused. The coaches ran through plays, strategies, and drills, emphasizing teamwork and communication. You felt a renewed sense of determination, ready to give it your all.

After practice, Caitlin and Kate approached you, their expressions serious yet supportive. "You good?" Caitlin asked, her concern evident.

"Yeah," you said, nodding. "I'm ready."

Kate smiled, her eyes reflecting pride. "We’re gonna crush it. Together."

You smiled back, feeling the warmth of their support. "Yeah, we are."

──

APRIL 5, 2024

"And here we are folks, the most anticipated of the season! The NCAA Women's Basketball Championship Final Four is about to tip off, featuring the Iowa Hawkeyes against the UConn Huskies!" The commentator's voice boomed through the packed arena, the excitement palpable among the sea of fans.

The camera panned over the teams warming up on the court. The Iowa Hawkeyes, led by their star player Caitlin Clark and Y/N L/N, looked focused and determined. On the other side, the UConn Huskies, with their legendary coach Geno Auriemma and standout players like Paige Bueckers and Nika Muhl, were equally intense.

"Tonight's matchup is not just a clash of two powerhouse teams, but a story of redemption and rivalry." The commentator continued. "Y/N L/N, former UConn star, now shining with Iowa, will face off against her old team. This game has all the makings of an instant classic."

Kate stood behind you, giving your shoulders squeeze as you let out a surprised yelp. "Ow!"

Kate smiled as she put her arm around you. "You nervous?"

You laughed, shaking off the nerves. "A little bit. It's a big game."

Kate squeezed your shoulder again, this time more gently. "You've got this, Y/N. We've all got your back. Just play your game."

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "Thanks, Kate. That means a lot."

As the team huddled up for a final pep talk, Caitlin took the lead. "This is our moment. We've worked hard to get here, and now it's time to finish what we started. Play for each other, leave everything on the court, and let's bring that trophy home!"

The team roared in agreement, the energy palpable as you broke the huddle and took your positions on the court. You were guarding Paige, that was the ultimate goal for you ─ make sure she does not score.

As you walked to the court, your gazes met and your heart sank. She looked determined, her eyes sharp and focused, a mirror of your own intensity. Her blue eyes carried years of memories, both beautiful and painful. There was a time when those eyes looked at you with nothing but love. Now, they were filled with a competitive fire, and something else ─ something you couldn’t quite place.

But you also knew that you were ready. You had trained for this, prepared for this, and you were not going to let her outshine you. She looked you up and down, but she kept her lips shut as you took your position.

Paige moved quickly, weaving through your teammates with a grace that was almost mesmerizing. But you were right there with her, matching her stride for stride. Every pivot, every fake ─ you were there, anticipating her moves as if you were still in sync, like you had been during the best of times.

The whistle blew, and the game began. The crowd's cheers became a distant roar as you zeroed in on Paige. Paige moved quickly, weaving through your teammates with a grace that was almost mesmerizing. She tried to shake you off with a quick pivot, but you anticipated her move and stayed in front of her, blocking her path to the basket.

You were right there with her, matching her stride for stride. Every pivot, every fake ─ you were there, anticipating her moves as if you were still in sync, like you had been during the best of times.

Right from the start, the intensity was through the roof. UConn came out strong, with Paige leading the charge. She was as formidable as ever, hitting shots from all over the court and orchestrating the offense with precision. But Iowa matched their intensity, with Caitlin and you leading the charge.

"Clark drives to the basket... passes to L/N... she shoots... and it's good! Y/N L/N ties the game at 20!" the commentator exclaimed.

As the game progressed, the physical exertion mirrored the emotional toll. Each bump, each shove, was a reminder of the walls that had gone up between you two. You could hear the crowd, the commentators, your coach shouting instructions, but it all faded into the background.

All you could focus on was Paige, everything about her almost felt like a ghost of someone who you'd known intimately but had somehow become a stranger. The familiarity of her movements, the way she dribbled the ball, the sheer determination in her eyes ─ it all brought back memories that you had tried so hard to bury.

As the game progressed, those memories kept flooding back. Late-night talks after practice, shared laughter over inside jokes, the way her hand used to fit perfectly in yours. Each interaction on the court was laden with unspoken words, with the weight of what once was and what could never be again.

In a particularly intense moment, Paige drove to the basket, and you fouled her hard, sending her sprawling to the floor. Time seemed to slow as you reached out a hand to help her up, your eyes locking onto hers. The crowd's noise dimmed, and for a brief second, it felt like it was just the two of you.

"I'm fine," she said, brushing off your hand and getting up on her own. But her voice was softer, lacking the sharp edge it had carried since the breakup.

"Sorry," you muttered, more for everything unspoken between you than for the foul itself.

She gave a curt nod, her expression unreadable as she walked to the free-throw line. You could see the conflict in her eyes, the same one that mirrored your own. Despite the competitive fire, there was an undeniable connection that neither of you could ignore, could ever ignore.

Midway through the first half, there was a brief pause in play. Paige looked over at you, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. "You're really making this tough," she said, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

"Just doing my job," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. Inside, you were a whirlwind of emotions.

The first half ended with both teams neck and neck. In the locker room, Coach Blunder gave a rousing speech, but your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t stop thinking about Paige ─ the good times, the bad, and everything in between. The harsh words exchanged during the breakup, the regret that followed, and the lingering hurt that neither of you had ever fully addressed.

Each glance, each brush of your arms, felt like an electric shock. It was more than just a battle for victory; it was a confrontation of your shared past and the emotions you had both tried to suppress.

Back on the court, the tension was palpable. "Paige on the drive... she dishes it out to the wing, but L/N intercepts! What a defensive play!" The commentator’s voice boomed, but you barely registered it, too focused on the person right in front of you.

In a brief moment when the ball was out of play, Paige walked up beside you. "You're playing good, L/N," she said, breathless but sincere. It was the first civil thing she had said to you in months.

"Thanks," you replied, your heart aching. "You too."

The final minutes of the game were a blur. With the score tied and the clock winding down, Paige had the ball. She drove towards the basket, and you were right there with her. She went up for a shot, and you blocked it, the ball flying out of bounds. The whistle blew, and UConn called a timeout.

As both teams huddled up, coach emphasized the importance of the next play. "This is it. One more stop, and we win this."

When the game resumed, UConn inbounded the ball to Paige. She glanced at you, her expression a mix of determination and something else ─ something softer. She made a move towards the basket, but you stayed with her, your eyes never leaving hers. She pulled up for a jumper, and you leapt, your hand just grazing the ball enough to alter its trajectory.

"Caitlin grabs the rebound... she sprints down the court... passes to L/N... Y/N for the win... and it's in! Iowa takes the lead with seconds to spare!"

The buzzer sounded, and the gym erupted in cheers. Your teammates rushed to embrace you, lifting you high as the reality of your victory set in. You had done it. You had faced off against one of the best ─ and your ex ─ and emerged victorious.

You felt the tears of happiness trail down your face uncontrollably as you shouted, "We did it! We actually did it!" Your voice was almost drowned out by the roar of the crowd and the jubilation of your team.

As you were carried around in celebration, your eyes searched for Paige. Despite the euphoria of the win, there was a part of you that needed to see her, to understand her reaction. You spotted her near the sidelines, her expression a mixture of disappointment and quiet acceptance.

Gently, you extricated yourself from your teammates' embrace and made your way over to her. The noise of the gym seemed to fade into the background as you approached. Paige looked up, meeting your gaze with those familiar blue eyes that had once been your world, except now they were teary eyed.

"Uh, congrats, Y/N." She sniffled, her voice steady but soft. There was a depth of emotion in her eyes, a mix of pride and sadness that tugged at your heart.

"Thanks, Paige," you replied, your voice catching slightly. "You played an amazing game. You always do."

She nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "You too. You deserved this win."

There was a moment of silence, a charged pause where the weight of your shared history hung between you. Finally, you broke the silence.

"I'm sorry," you whispered suddenly, your stomach twisting in gulit.

Paige scoffed, shaking her head. "For what? Playing your best? Don't apologize-"

"No. For having to be the one to take you guys out. I mean... you guys are my family," you felt your own tears build up in your eyes. "Were my family," you corrected quickly.

Paige's expression softened, her teary eyes locking onto yours. "We are a family, that doesn't just go away. But you have your own path to follow, Y/N. And it's okay. We all knew this day might come."

You felt a lump in your throat, struggling to find the right words. "I just... I never wanted it to end like this, with us on opposite sides."

Paige reached out, her hand finding yours and squeezing it gently and it felt like how it did, two years ago. "Life doesn't always go the way we want, but that doesn't mean what we had wasn't real or important. We grew together, and now we're growing apart. It's part of the journey."

You nodded, swallowing hard. "I just hope we can find our way back to being friends, someday."

Paige's smile was bittersweet. "Maybe. But even if we don't, know that I still care about you, and I always will. I never... I never meant what I said, I swear. I'm not angry anymore, I'm just proud."

The tears spilled over, but you managed to smile through them. "Thank you, Paige. That means more than you know."

Before you could even process it, Paige pulled you into a tight hug. She buried her face in your neck as you felt your tears flow freely, her breaths coming in hiccups. You hugged her back just as tightly, feeling the familiar warmth and comfort you had once known so well.

Her lips found your temple, pressing a kiss on to it. You squeezed her tighter, but it was a cathartic release, a letting go of all the hurt and tension that had built up over the past years.

After what felt like an eternity, Paige pulled back slightly, her eyes red and puffy but filled with a kind of peace. Before she could say it, you felt someone's hands on your back. You met the eyes of Nika, pulling her into a hug.

And soon, the seniors of your old team surrounded you, taking their own turn in hugging you and congratulating you. It was bittersweet moment, reunion tinged with the pain of separation but also the joy of shared memories and accomplishments. Each hug brought a new rush of memories, a reminder of the bond you had shared with these incredible women.

"Well, what a remarkable sight we're witnessing right now," the lead commentator said, his voice tinged with emotion. "It's not just about the victory for Iowa or the hard-fought battle for UConn. This is a moment of true sportsmanship and personal connection. You can see the genuine respect and love these players have for each other, transcending the rivalry and the outcome of the game."

His co-commentator nodded in agreement. "Absolutely. It's moments like these that remind us why we love sports. It's not just about the competition, it's about the camaraderie and the human stories behind the game. These athletes have given everything on the court, but off the court, they are still friends, still a family in many ways."

The camera panned across the court, capturing the emotional reunions and heartfelt embraces. It zoomed in on you and Paige, still holding hands and exchanging a few final words. The commentators fell silent for a moment, letting the images speak for themselves.

As you walked away, you felt a sense of closure. It wasn't the perfect resolution, but it was a step in the right direction. You turned back to your teammates, who had been watching the exchange with quiet understanding.

Kate came up to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "How are you feeling?" she asked gently.

You took a deep breath, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. "Better. Lighter, somehow."

Kate smiled and squeezed your shoulder. "Good. Now let's go celebrate!"

You laughed, the sound light and free. "Yeah, let's do that."

As you joined your teammates in the celebration, the noise and excitement of the gym washed over you. For the first time in a long while, you felt truly at peace. The future was still uncertain, but you knew you had the strength and support to face whatever came next. And that was enough.

──

"I just hope we can find our way back to being friends, someday."

"Maybe. But even if we don't, know that I still care about you, and I always will. I never... I never meant what I said, I swear. I'm not angry anymore, I'm just proud."

ESPN, APRIL 2025 Reunited Once Again | Paige Bueckers and Y/N L/N Embrace as Teammates Once Again with the LA Sparks

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[ilovedilfsandleonkennedy]

you find yourself staring at your husband...

as you wordlessly take in his appearance.

you remember the last time you kissed him very well. it was little peck to his right cheek.

yet you don´t remember giving him the hickeys on his neck you´re currently staring at.

könig knows what he´s done. of course he does.

he keeps his gaze lowered, clearly avoiding your gaze and silently revelling in remorse making you wonder if these guilty feelings of his are even real or if they´re just a hoax like his love towards you.

"i can explain, love, i was drunk…. i-" he halts as he breathes heavily, trying to take a step closer to you, but stops when he notices you backing away from him.

he was drunk. you almost laugh to yourself.

"no." you say, trying to get the hell away from him.

all those sleepless, exhausting nights wondering if your husband would come home to you again, or if he´d spend the night with some woman he picked up from the bar, have finally brought you to this breaking point.

you aren´t even sad or shocked anymore, just tired and fed up with his bullshit, knowing this numbness has been clouding your mind for a while now.

you stare at the ring on your left hand, your head racing with doubts and thoughts.

"love-"

"stop calling me that." you whisper. he frowns at that.

könig watches you leave the room, reaches out a hand, but then quickly withdraws it, well aware that he´s lost the right to touch you a long, long time ago.

"i know i´ve messed up, i know that. but please, please," he begs but it doesn´t faze you, "don´t give up on us. don´t do this."

"there is no 'us'", you mutter, "there never was an 'us' and there never will be an 'us' ever again."

you grab a bag to pack your belongings, as you'd rather burn alive than spend another minute in this hell.

"please wait, please.. i can´t imagine my life without you, without your warmth."

'then why did you sneak out and seek the warmth of another woman?'

his heart is racing as he finally realizes the magnitude of his mistakes, "let me explain. i was just trying to escape my problems for a moment-"

"your problems?" you scoff, "'for better or worse', remember?" you scream.

könig doesn't say anything, he just stares at you while tears well up in your eyes.

"if you´re dealing with problems, you´re supposed to talk to me about them and not go and fuck someone!"

"love, i´m so sorry-"

"i´m leaving." you say, ignoring his attempts, "i´ll stay at john´s until we got this figured out. until you fucking learn how to respect a marriage," you shout, angrily poking your finger in his chest.

he´s silent again, the only reaction are his eyes widening at your outburst.

it makes your blood boil that he doesn't show any kind of reaction. he doesn't even try to get you to stay. he´s not trying to convince or pressure you into staying either.

and you realize he never really fought for you. he never did.

"i understand." no he doesn´t.

"you will also give me your signature because i want a divorce," you finally say, "i can´t do this anymore and i´m afraid forgiving you over and over again for your mistakes is gonna kill me eventually."

"a divorce?", he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.

—

this is so bad aaaaa, anyway should i make a part 2?

[motelofmermaids]

finnick odair discovers the deal you made with coriolanus snow during the quarter quell, the time when both of you were reaped.

"stop," you pleaded, backing against the wall, your breath catching in your chest. “stop looking at me like that.” finnick cornered you, his eyebrows pinched together in anger, and his mouth set in a straight line. "looking at you like what, hm?" unable to maintain eye contact, your eyes scanned the room, avoiding his piercing look, that pure disappointment that shattered you.

finnick odair, the man you've loved since your shared experiences began. the man who’s pulled you up and down in the obstacles of life. finnick odair, who waited for you, fought for you, killed for you so that he could kiss you once more. now, exasperating huffs into your face, his hands flexed with overwhelmed emotions.

a lump in your throat made speaking difficult; you felt like you were choking on regret with the way his gaze scrutinized you. "stop lookin’ at me with… with those eyes," you winced, "like i could just disappear, and you wouldn't care why." finnick stepped back, his expression morphing into something more painful than you could imagine—softened brows, raised almost; eyes examining your face, your eyes, your trembling lips. his frown took you down to the depths of hell.

"what?" you knew you deserved this, but you couldn't find the words, the apologies you'd built up for years had turnt into pathetic excuses. "why," finnick began before turning around, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "why would you say that? why would you think that? i don't understand. you lied to me, led me—"

you snapped, walking up to him and grabbing his arm in a wordless plea. "i didn't, finnick. i didn't mean to. it was never my intention to trick you; it was never for show," you cried out, eyes wide and raging. "i made a mistake. i fucked up so bad. please look at me. how do i make you stay?" finnick looked down at you, his mouth parted, and the intensity in his eyes faltered.

he was silent, hesitating with his own thoughts. you took it as an invitation for you to keep talking. "he threatened you, threatened me, my family—threatened us all. i don't know why i didn't tell you sooner… but i was scared; we didn't know each other. i didn't trust it. i took his deal for my family." finnick slowly turned towards you, distrust and love crashing together like an unpredictable storm at sea.

"were we real?" he croaked, needing the reaffirmation for the sake of his blinded heart. his opposite hand gently covered yours that tightly gripped at his arm. you took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment to ground yourself with his touch. "we were— we are. i love you, finn. i love you more than anything." he leaned down, tears threatening his reddened eyes. "i love you, sweetheart." yet he was pulling away, and you felt like you were going to throw up. "but i need time."

[brewstersbru]

I want to get more used to writing low stakes lil blurbs so please enjoy this, also posted on ao3 under my pseud brewstersbru :) hopefully being able to post it here will bring the perfectionism anxiety down lol

***

Astarion is perhaps the one of the most interesting, irritating, but somehow undoubtedly kind people Halsin has ever observed. Though he’d flay anyone who had the audacity to tell him it.

The duties of an Arch-Druid are many, and often arduous in nature, but nonetheless rewarding. And it all boils down to watching, observing, noticing little idiosyncrasies in the people he leads. The people who trust him with their lives and wellbeing. Halsin has become well-accustomed to watching, as any good leader must and it is no surprise that the skill has followed him to where he is now, camping with a menagerie of illithid-infected souls, searching for a cure.

Though, with this aforementioned observational skill, Halsin has gotten the distinct impression that many of them seek quite a bit more than a simple cure. Absolution, freedom, a clearer path forward. It is so often in the words they don’t say, rather than those they choose to reveal. For example, Gale never talks of an ‘after’, a concept all of the others seem so enamored with, save Astarion, of course. He simply hums and offers a small melancholy smile when conversation turns to the topic of everyone’s plans after they find a cure. It wasn’t difficult to figure him out, not when Halsin had been paying attention. Gale is convinced that dying is the only way to atone for his sins. To be forgiven.

Halsin’s heart aches at the thought; poor child, it is not a sin to wish to be loved. But he digresses.

Astarion, curiosity that he is, had immediately captured Halsin’s attention when he’d joined camp. On the surface he seemed shallow, and ill-tempered, but Halsin has not gotten this far in life by making quick judgements on a person’s first actions after he’s met them. Sure enough, he’d caught a glimpse of the real Astarion not even two days later.

It had been a long day, brimming with long, arduous battles after which they had all come out exhausted and bloodied. Wyll, with his lion’s heart, had fought especially ferociously. Perhaps too much so. His robe was torn horribly across the front and he’d had to be propped up as they trudged back to camp, unfortunately neither Halsin nor Shadowheart had maintained enough energy to heal anyone.

Astarion had almost immediately wedged himself under Wyll’s arm, curling an arm around his waist while also berating him as they walked. “What in the hells were you thinking jumping out like that! You’re weak, leave the feats of strength to Karlach you dolt!” And on and on. The words were cutting, and not entirely fair, but still, his hands remained gentle against his friends skin and he walked slowly so as not to jostle his injuries.

Shadowheart- exhausted herself, likely with a beast of a headache after all of the concentration spells she’d been slinging- had told Astarion to shut it, only hearing the words and not the worry behind them. He had obliged- another kindness-as his eyes darted around the scrunched pain painted over her expression and his own expression set in resolve. Still, he performed a pout, and everyone took it for what it was- or rather, what he’d wanted them to take it for: Astarion being his usual surly self.

Halsin took it for what it truly was, a man doing his best to aid his friends and keep their spirits high after such a grueling encounter. He’d thought they needed someone to direct their exhausted irritation at, lest they start picking themselves apart instead (something Halsin had noticed, but was unaware Astarion knew of) and offered himself like it was as natural as breathing.

The kindnesses didn’t stop there, either. When they made it to camp he’d taken Wyll to his bedroll as the others collapsed onto their own. Rummaged through the camp supplies until he found a potion of greater healing, then did not feed it to Wyll until he was half asleep and delirious.

“Mmh… Dad?” Wyll had murmured, eyes squinted closed as he moved his head around. Astarion had simply hummed and continued feeding him the potion.

For the rest of the night he prepped ingredients with practiced efficiency and left them next to the communal cooking pot for when the rest of the party woke for breakfast. Halsin had needed to trance for a few hours, loathe as he was to turn away from the scene, and when he returned Wyll’s robe had been mended, folded and placed aside his head. Astarion was nowhere to be seen. Halsin hoped he’d found his way to his own tent for a short trance.

Elves do not need to sleep, this much is true, but even a short trance would have done wonders to refresh and replenish his energy. Astarion had to know that.

Halsin is still unsure what the other elf had done for the rest of that night, but he’d emerged from his tent with just as much practiced, haughty vigor as he’d always had halfway through breakfast the next morning.

“Astarion! Good morning! Thank you for aiding me in our trek back yesterday.” Wyll had smiled at him, something warm and molten in his eyes. Astarion simply huffed and waved it off, “Well, dear, someone needed to lecture you about the dangers of heroism. None of these dimwits were going to do it.” Wyll smiled and the others gave halfhearted protests from where they’d been digging into the breakfast Gale had prepared from the ingredients Astarion had left out for him. There was a sparkle in his eye as he caught sight of them eating it, something almost like pride, if Halsin had to name it.

The others had been dumbfounded, asking around the campfire about who had done it. When no one came forward they’d simply shrugged and taken it to mean that the culprit was too humble to take credit. Besides, who were they to question a miracle such as this. No one asked the vampire if he’d done the deed, why would he have? He doesn’t eat food anymore and he doesn’t even really like them.

It’s exactly what he wants them to think. Halsin has to give him points for his dedication to maintaining pretense. Wyll doesn’t mention his robe, but his eyes dart from hand to hand trying to scrutinize any bandages or pricks that might indicate a late-night sewing session. It’s a smart move on his part but Astarion, it seems, is a masterful tailor. His fingers are unbandaged and unbloodied.

Everything carefully thought out and executed. Every kindness meticulously planned and hidden. He truly is an enigma. He would rather his friends believe him selfish and cruel, than see him for the gentle, caring man he truly is.

The kindnesses continue, always carefully implemented so as to erase any and all suspicion that Astarion may have had any part in it. He continues to be outwardly difficult and mean so as to cover his tracks. Halsin can do little but watch, as he always has, that is, until Astarion’s little kindnesses eventually and inevitably extend to him, too.

He is not so easily fooled, has seen past the performance that the other man puts on for some reason that he is still trying to parse.

It’s a quiet evening, the battles of the day had been hard, but nothing they were ill-equipped to handle. The shadow curse has been getting to Halsin, though. Seeing his greatest failure in all of it’s unbearable misery has been weighing on him. And he knows his struggle is not invisible to his fellow party members. They seem unsure what to do about it, though, seeing as he is a centuries old former Arch-Druid with life experience they could hardly fathom. He enjoys his time at camp but cannot say with certainty that he is truly close to anyone there. Though he wishes to be, he is afraid they’ve placed him on somewhat of a pedestal after his actions in the grove, forgetting that he is fallible and full of emotion, same as them.

He very nearly misses it, when it happens, too caught up in his thoughts to hear the slight shuffling near the entrance to his tent. Thankfully, he doesn’t, and emerges with a small smile.

Astarion freezes at the sound of his emergence, crouched over something small and wooden at his feet. Then, almost as if possessed, his shoulders relax and he looks up with a devilish grin. “Halsin! My dear, I was just looking for you. Some wretched little thing of a child has gifted me with perhaps the ugliest wooden duck I’ve ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on. And these things are in no way ‘beautiful’ on a good day. I cannot have something so… distasteful loitering around my tent. You mentioned you liked ducks so I thought it would be of better use here. Otherwise I’m throwing it in the river.” It’s a lot of words, more than the vampire generally tends to use in casual conversation, as much as he pretends he’s an insufferable chatterbox. That’s the second clue Halsin gets that perhaps there’s more to this than Astarion is telling him. The first being the way he froze, as if he hadn’t been expecting Halsin to be there. “Looking for you”, right…

Astarion stands and nods at the duck on the ground. It’s small, a little misshapen, but it’s got hearts carved where it’s eyes should be and for some reason Halsin finds that hopelessly endearing. He kneels and cradles the thing gently in his cupped palms.

When he looks up Astarion is grinning at him, still in that sneering performative way he likes to, but in his eyes that shine of pride makes itself known. Halsin likes the duck, it’s obvious. And Astarion is proud of himself, but he’ll never tell. He’ll never let anyone else be.

The third clue is dripping sluggishly down Astarion’s finger, stark and red against his deathly pale skin. Halsin remembers the first time he’d whittled. His hands had looked much of the same. He smiles.

“Thank you, Astarion. This is very good. Would you like some salve for your hand?”

Astarion’s eyes widen, only fractionally, but noticeable if you’d been looking in his eyes. And Halsin had been. Still, his expression shutters and he pastes another smirk on before turning his nose up at the duck.

“Thank the Gods, that ugly thing is your problem now. And I’ve no idea what you mean dear, my hand is perfectly serviceable.” He rushes away with a perfunctory wave, likely to rob Halsin of the opportunity to call him out on his bullshit. Halsin only smiles and cradles the duck. He’d bloodied his hands for this, for him. The surge of affection that washes through him is entirely involuntary but wholly welcome.

Astarion wakes from his trance the next morning to a gift settled gently at the entrance of his tent. It’s a wooden cat, masterfully carved from a dark oak and undeniably beautiful. Perfectly fitting the vampire’s tastes and sensibilities.

A note lies beside it in what he recognizes to be Halsin’s messy scrawl.

Thank you, Astarion, again for the duck. It thrills and delights me to know that you care. It did make me feel better, you know, and I still have that salve if you need. All you have to do is ask. I thought I’d return the favor, seeing as you do so much for the camp but refuse to let anyone see it, or thank you.

I see you. I thank you.

Yours,

Halsin

[wrens-writings]

The Monster’s Gone

: ̗̀➛ Percy Jackson x platonic! child of Poseidon! reader

: ̗̀➛ in which big brother Percy saves the day

: ̗̀➛ oh gods, folks. here it is! my first piece of writing posted to tumblr. i have absolutely zero clue about what it is that i’m doing, but here we go!

: ̗̀➛ WARNINGS: bad writing (probably), allusions to angst. i don’t think anything else? lmk if i missed anything 🫶

percy adores being a big brother. someone that only he gets to pick on? that’s a bonus, yea, but the real reason he loves it? watching his little siblings grow up and experience the things their lives would offer.

with tyson, percy was his friend before he was his brother, but he still helps him to understand the world above the sea when applicable. tyson is like an overgrown puppy, a comparison that many people, including sally jackson herself, have pointed out.

and then of course, there’s sweet little estelle, who has her whole life ahead of her that percy just cannot wait to be a part of.

but then comes the outlier. you. don’t get him wrong! he loves you as much as he does all of his siblings. but you’re so traumatized that he just… doesn’t know what to do with you?

when he got to camp for the summer, excited and eager for a killer two and a half months with his girlfriend and his best friends, he was taken aback. normally, himself and tyson were the only two to be in poseidons cabin. yet there you were, a small 11 year old wringing their hands together in cabin 3.

percy had looked at you, eyes wide and full of confusion. “annabeth.” he murmured to the pretty blonde who stood beside him.

“yes, percy?” she responded carefully, seemingly already knowing what he was going to say next.

percy turned to his girlfriend, his face twisted with conflicting emotions. “why is there a child in my cabin and where did they come from?”

and thus begins the summer of percy jackson awkwardly tiptoeing around his new sibling. annabeth had explained to him that the poor kid was chucked into the foster system at a young age, forced to be exposed to more horrors than he would’ve liked for a sibling of his. but with those horrors, came a small issue.

how was he meant to get to know you if you were scared of your own shadow from the trauma you experienced? he knows firsthand just how terrifying this world can get. hades, he fought the chimera when he was just a year older than you and would’ve died if it weren’t for poseidon himself!

it isn’t all bad though. percy knows a handful of things about you. he knows that you like the beach (which, hey, so does he!), he knows that you like spicy food, reading, drawing, and he knows that you’ll probably shit bricks when you inevitably encounter your first monster.

the poor boy has this innate desire to protect you in the way you’ve never been protected before, but he’s so afraid to make you upset or uncomfortable. he’s stuck at a crossroads. so, what does he do?

wallows in his own mind because adhd is a bitch! eventually, despite his whining and complaining at the idea of hurting you, annabeth and grover manage to talk some sense into him.

“guys, i- i don’t know. they’re so young and so scared of everything. how would i even-“

“percy!” grover cuts him off, his eyes narrowing at his best friend. “think of it from y/n’s perspective. they show up after getting exposed to a world they are actually so scared of, and the only thing that makes them feel better is the promise of a big brother.”

percy sits in silence, his ears burning red with shame. annabeth puts her hand on his arm softly with a kinder approach. “just go talk to them. i promise they won’t bite you.” she reassures him. ever the daughter of wisdom, that one.

percy nods and stands up, intent on finding his new sibling, wanting to put them at ease, even just a little bit. he sets off, initially heading towards the beach.

when he arrives, his lips tug down into a frown. despite the beautiful scenery of camp, especially the view from the beach, you aren’t here. he peers through the pretty, looming trees, trying to catch a glimpse of you. his frown only deepens at the sight of your book bag, but no you. “y/n?” he calls out, his voice laced with fear.

when he gets no response, he scoops up your bag and carries it with him towards cabin 3, figuring you just forgot it like the absent minded kid he hopes you are. except, you aren’t in the cabin either. now he’s starting to worry.

he puts your bag down on your bed neatly before rushing back out. he double checks the beach— nothing. he checks the dining pavilion— also nothing. he looks around the arena, the climbing wall, the archery range, even stopping into the infirmary to see if you’re laying there injured and no one thought to tell him. but he turns pale as a sheet when will solace tells him he hasn’t seen you.

percy runs into the forest, uncapping Riptide as he leaps over a fallen log. of course, you probably just wandered off by accident. after all, why would you leave your book bag at the beach?

a scream that sounds heartbreakingly like you echoes from further in the woods and instantly he heads in that direction. didn’t anyone tell you that the woods are full of monsters?!

he breaks through the trees, slashing his sword clean through a hellhound as it lunges towards you. after a terrifying few moments alone while he secures your safety, percy takes you into his arms.

the hug is tight, protective, full of warmth and love, fear and panic. “shh, i’ve got you…” he whispered in your ear, trying to soothe your fearful blubbering. “the monster’s gone. he’s on the run, and your big brother is here.” he reassures you, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head.

he doesn’t care about the tears that soak his shirt, or even the snot that does the same thing. all he cares about is that you are safe and not injured. he pulls back from the tight hug briefly. “hey, kiddo. you hurt anywhere?” he whispers, his voice strained and fragile.

“n-no. ‘m okay…” you stammer out, your own voice matching his. he kisses your head again, breathing out a sigh of relief. “thank you, percy…” you whisper quietly in his ear. you can’t do much besides whisper at this point, and who is he to judge?

percy squeezes you tighter, his body shaking from the fear of you being hurt “always, kiddo. i’m always gonna be there when you need me. rain or shine, day or night. i’m your big brother. that’s my job.”

soooooo…? gimmie your thoughts, pls!! bare in mind that i’m scared shitless of constructive criticism tho 😭🤚

i’m not the greatest at writing fanfiction but i’m really eager to learn more. your feedback is much appreciated 🫶

[pelova4president]

Almost impossible

Lucy Bronze x AWFC!Reader

summary~ playing a champions league final against the love of your life is harder than you thought. Can you put your life on hold and play those 90 minutes against her?

Playing in a Champions League final was hard. Playing it against the love of your life is even harder.

We fought our way to the final. Every single game got harder and harder but that’s how a competition like that works.

You play two games per week, one for the league you’re in and one for the champions league. I didn’t think about my body or my mental health, i just wanted to win. Not that you really get time to think about it all anyway.

And along the way, Beth got injured and Viv not long after. Leah and Laura later in the competition. So when i thought, i’ve gone through it all, nothing can stop me now, her team was waiting for us on the pitch.

To say i dreaded this day was an understatement, i absolutely hated it. Whenever i played against my clubmates in the international breaks i didn’t even think about it. It was normal, you put your personal life on hold and just play those 90 something minutes.

That’s how football works and i like it that way.

When Lucy and i started seeing each other it wasn’t really serious. We both knew it was almost impossible to date as footballers who weren’t in the same team, let alone league.

Throughout the Euros we’d have little ‘dates’, going to dinner, exploring together or just staying in. We were lucky enough our hotels weren’t that far away. We played against each other in the group stages. Both nations got one point out of it and both of us got out of the groupstages. I guess you could call us lucky.

When Lucy won the Euros I was happy. She deserved it and at least we didn’t take each other out.

We had a little break before going to club life again and i enjoyed every single minute of it. Lucy and i planned a trip right after the euros. We spent two whole weeks together, tanning, going out and enjoying each other.

I guess i really started to feel something in those weeks, like real feelings. The way she would be up, reading a book with her glasses on when i woke up, god i liked those glasses on her. Or when she would take my hand or put her hand on my lower back when we explored the city together.

Those two weeks flew by and i had to go back to North London and Lucy to Barcelona.

At first i just wanted to ignore her, ignore my feelings for her. So when she called after she landed i didn’t pick up. When she texted me i didn’t respond. That’s how it works, you have a great time and after that it becomes too complicated to maintenance.

Lucy posted about our vacation together on instagram. She didn’t tag me, that was probably the smartest move but it bothered me. I didn’t like her post, i just chose to completely ghost her.

lucybronze

liked by keirawalsh and 23.518 others

a winning vacation 🏆

That didn’t mean i didn’t miss her though. I missed her company, i tried to convince myself that i just needed someone but i just needed her.

So when i got ready for bed and scrolled through our vacation photos together and Lucy called me, i picked up. I picked up embarrassingly fast.

“Y/n, i kinda miss you. Fuck no i want you. Just don’t ignore me anymore, i love you baby” she slurred. I could hear the rough music on the background. She was drunk, and called me to confess her stupid love for me.

“Look Luce, you’re drunk and you don’t know what you’re saying. Please get Keira on the phone with me.” I told her. She hummed and murmured something under her breath, “Babe i mean it.”.

For a moment there was only music coming from the other end until i heard Keira speak “Hey y/n, Lucy really misses you and i can’t hear her talk about you anymore. Talk to her please.”. I sighed and looked at the book at my bedsidetable, the one that lucy was reading every evening when we were on vacation.

“Yeah, i will.. just get her home safe. Please.” I promised her. We said our goodbyes and i hung up. Fuck Lucy, what am i doing.

The next morning i went to training. I was off, i’ve been playing bad ever since i decided to ghost Lucy. Leah knew that we were close throughout the Euros, she just didn’t know we were romantically involved.

So after another bad training session i wanted to train on my own, just a little bit longer. I tried running it off, shooting it off but even doing those awful drills didn’t help. I sank to the ground, defeated that even shooting on goal was going terrible.

What happened to me.

Leah sat down next to me and we sat in silence. “Leah what do you want.” I asked her grumpily. “You know what i want, tell me everything.” Leah demanded. I looked her in the eye and saw the concern. She gave me one of her sad smiles and i just wanted to cry. So when i couldn’t hold the watergates closed anymore she hugged me. I sobbed into her chest and told her everything, about the Euros, our vacation, how i ghosted Lucy and her call. She held me and rubbed my back listening to me.

“Y/n, you should just call her back, you promised her.” she whispered.

So that is what i did, i went home and called her. I was sitting in the kitchen, looking down at my hands that were fidgeting with my rings. I clicked on her contact name and the phone went over, she picked up.

“Hi Luce” i spoke up. “Hey, how are you doing?” she asked me. I was not sure if i should just say ‘fine’, like i did every time someone asked me or if i should tell her how much i missed her.

“Uh ‘m not doing great at the moment” i murmured, hoping she would change the subject. “Yeah, me neither.. i really miss you you know” she told me, just like yesterday. “Luce, i’m sorry i didn’t respond to your texts or picked up when you called me. It’s just that i didn- don’t think this can work.” I told her truthfully. I heard her hum before speaking “We could make this work, I can make this work. Please just try with me. I’m sure we can.”

And that is how we ended here. We facetimed after every practice, went on vacations together whenever we could and Luce tried to visit me every day she didn’t need to train or play.

But i just needed to fuck it all up again.

A week before the final i started to distance myself again. Just like i did about a year ago. I thought it was for the best, i always did. We both needed to concentrate. I didn’t want to put her off her game. I wanted her to do her very best.

She texted me every day. Just hours before the game she texted me good luck.

I wanted to cry, i just needed Lucy to hold me. But she was getting ready for the game. When i saw Leah in the changing room i flew into her arms, i needed her, now more than ever.

Minutes later we were in the tunnel. I stared at the ground, ignoring Lucy who stood somewhere further down the line of her teammates. I could feel her eyes on me but i didn’t dare looking behind me.

Passing every opponent and shaking their hand along with a ‘good luck’ i did no different with Lucy, completely emotionless. Keep your personal life off the pitch. That’s how it’s always been, that’s how it has to be.

We were up 2-1 when the halftime whistle blew. I was hopeful. We could do this, we could win this thing. Jonas gave us the halftime talk and we went out again.

Within the first ten minutes they made it 2-3. I had to do my job. I had to make us win, that’s what strikers are for.

Lotte passed the ball to Victoria, she dribbled over the halfway line and gave me the perfect pass. I only had to get past Mapi, she was a difficult one to get past but i managed to do so. I got inside the box, one on one with their keeper. I shot it into the topbins and the stadium absolutely erupted.

Before anyone could grab me to celebrate i ran to the nearest camera and screamed “for you, beth, viv, lee and lau!” and tapped the badge. The team came running at me and katie jumped on me while screaming.

It was the 82th minute and it was still 3-3. Vic passed the ball to Lia, who shot the ball right into my feet. I dribbled past Keira, running into the box and was ready to shoot when i felt the pop.

The pop Beth and Viv told me about. The pop that could end your career.

I dropped to the ground, my hands covering my face, the ball that was planned to end at the back of the net in the hands of Paños.

She stadium was quiet. I could only hear Katie screaming for the medics and Vic holding my hand and telling me i’d be alright.

I took my hands off my eyes and looked at her with tears streaming down my face. “Vic, i heard it pop.” was the only thing i could tell her. I could see she was trying not to cry but i saw the tear that escaped the corner of her eye before she wiped it away.

Lucy came running to me. “Hey, hey.. you’re okay. You’re fine y/n, you’re doing fine.” she told me, more to convince herself than me i think.

I held her hand “Luce, i heard it pop, it’s not okay. I’m really sorry, i was just scared.” I told her. She nodded and just stared at me. Lucy held my hand when the medics came and i was stretchered away until the outer white line of the pitch.

I don’t know how Leah found me but she arrived just in time before they took me to the hospital. I told her about what i felt and she gave me that sad smile again. It made me want to burst out in tears again but i was just so tired. Tired of wasting my happiness and fucking everything up. I closed my eyes and when Leah thought that i was asleep i heard her cry. I didn’t open my eyes, i just whispered “did you see that goal i scored for you?” and she laughed. “Ofcourse i did.”.

When game was over and they confirmed that i tore my ACL. Lucy knocked at my hospital door. I knew we lost.

“Hey baby..” she walked in. I turned my head, looking at her. My eyes were glossy again, hers were too. “You won” i smiled. She didn’t return the smile and just sat down next to me on the hospital bed.

“Y/n, i’m so sorry.” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Luce, it’s not your fault. At least i’ll have a few months off so i can visit you more often” i laughed, trying to soften the mood. She didn’t laugh though.

“Y/n i love you, i don’t care that you ignored me. Just please never do it again.” she kissed me on my forehead. “I’ll try, for you.” I replied looking up at her.

“Why aren’t you celebrating this win baby?” I asked her and she looked at me like i just said the most offensive thing ever. “Are you serious? You think i’m gonna celebrate right now?” Lucy spoke. “I love you” i laughed and kissed her.

Eleven months later i got to play again. A real game of football.

I used the time i had off to visit Lucy. I missed the World Cup and that hurt me more than i would ever admit but seeing Lucy play softened the blow at least a little bit.

She even got some time off to see me play for the first time again since my ACL injury. I got about fifteen minutes of playing time but it was so worth it.

Lucy got a reservation at an Italian place in the evening and we drove home after, or atleast that’s what i thought.

We stopped at one of the Coffeeshops we used to go together throughout the Euros. She opened my car door and we went inside. We sat at the table where we would sit every time, we ordered the same drink and she looked at me.

“Y/n, i know you didn’t think this would work. But it did, we made it work. We can do it together. Y/n will you marry me?” she asked sinking down on one knee. “Oh my god.. Yes Luce, i’ll marry you, now please get off your bad knee.” I chuckled.

Dating another footballer was hard, dating one that wasn’t in the same league was even harder. But it wasn’t impossible.

lucybronze, y/n_y/l/n

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leahwilliamsonn ❤️❤️

keirawalsh congrats!! ❤️

victoriapelova it was about time

katie_mccabe11 might steal her from you bronzey

↳ lucybronze get your own missus

wosofan12 omg since when?!!

bronzey02 they’re so cuteee

[agendabymooner]

mamma mia (again) ! daniel r. x ofc (måneskin member! ofc)

“they ask me why i’m so hot, ‘cause i’m italiano.”

summary: a series of video clips, but it’s only just danny ric being in love with a certain lester alessandro.

content warning: hint or two of suggestive comments (nothing detailed or graphic), use of explicit language, filler blurb or something, danny being a simp for few videos straight (“have my kids” type beat), lester being an etsy and pinterest enthusiast, literally posted this blurb from my phone so they’re crazy about their image limits 😩

note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE 105 FOLLOWERS?! UHM? seriously, i’ve never been so happy. i honestly only started posting these because i have them ingrained in my brain and won’t let go until i write or make something. just indulging my imagination you know? enjoy xx

masterlist

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏

【VIDEO ONE — daniel ricciardo is a gatekeeper】

[1st image: yeah, i dunno. everyone just found out that i made it official with my girlfriend and i’m pretty sure i just saw lando weeping in his room. max was the second to react to it and i’m so sure he recoiled. he did say that he didn't want to know what happened in imola few months ago.]

[2nd: interviewer: what happened in imola few months ago? daniel: *chuckles* wouldn’t you like to know - nah, i’m messing about. nothing happened in imola besides from me retiring to my bed early. i think we were both drunk when i posted that photo and i know it looks lewd but there's no way we could've done anything questionable.]

[3rd: d: but yeah. we didn't really want to catch that much attention until maybe i don't know... when we're married or something *chuckles* i: keep it a secret until the wedding? d: yeah. but charles, the absolute fool, posted videos during the concert with me in the background. It would've been real nice if no one caught onto it until we had a mini ric running and racing, you know? just to wreak havoc.]

【VIDEO TWO — daniel ricciardo talks about lester’s love language in his gq video】

[1st: i got this journal from lori. it has my initials "DR" on it for daniel ricciardo*laughs* it's one of those many first gifts that i’ve gotten from her throughout our first few months of dating. her love language isn't just shitting on my life -she has every single aspect of love language within her and this is one of them.]

[2nd: when she gave this to me, all she said was "you can write out your thoughts if you can't let them out through your mouth. *giggles* "she clearly had her thoughts sorted out that time especially when she showed me a page with an embossed phrase or nickname, "tasso di miele" - it means honey badger. she apparently bought the custom embosser from etsy and almost fought tooth and nail just to get it in time. *laughs even more* i love her so much, i honestly wanted to cry that day.]

[3rd: lori actually has a laptop with *laughs* itunes on it and she still got some playlists from 2010-2014? yeah. she’s put a lot of old taylor swift songs in my ipod during the christmas break. my favourite album right now is speak now. she loves red.]

【VIDEO THREE — lester hates ashy hands confirmed】

[1st: daniel: i think i should just cover my hands with gloves all the time. lando: that literally has nothing to do with anything that we're about to do. d: lori tells me that my hands are rough whenever she holds them.]

[2nd: l: or you know... you can just use a hand lotion all the time because your hands dry up real fast? d: ah that's true. i wonder if that's why lori just casually put a bottle of hand cream on my travel bag. the thing smells nice though. it’s chamomile.]

【VIDEO FOUR — it’s okay to spoil your partner; even if it’s an accent chair from her pinterest board】

[1st: d: lori just sent me a picture of an armchair from ikea. l: why was she randomly in ikea, by the way? I saw the text. d: window shopping. but anyway, she saw this armchair that she had on her pinterest board. she asked "pretty or no?" with the green velvet chair. l: what did you tell her?]

[2nd: word to word? I texted her "LOL you should see the accent chair I've gotten you for our flat in monaco." l: are you serious? *laughs* d: she wouldn't tell me what she wanted for her birthday. I only got a brief idea when she left her phone in my pocket once and gave me a free access to her pinterest boards.]

[kel-lance]

JJK Mafia Au (JJK x Reader) PART 2

Part 1

Warnings:- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Breeding, Ownership, Gaslighting, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more toxic sh.

Premise: Reader lives in a city where the two biggest gangs keep things line until the third gang showed up. That had nothing to do with you though, until dumb luck just happened to favor you one day. Basically You’re picked up and used by every dangerous criminal within the clans due to some alliances they had to create due to some members messing up the previous alliances. ((Almost everyone’s gonna have a turn 🤗)) ( i have 11 more chapters planned out right now meaning after i write those ill still be writing more.)

“We’re done for today.” The large man reaches for his robes. You don’t bother to move. Just breathing hurt. It was his off day and he was deciding to break you in, deciding to keep you for however long you were durable. He was amused with your reactions. He liked it. He found it interesting how you were also trying to survive. He’d play along as your god now. 

You lay in the bed and his finger prints stained your skin, each strike created blots of purple and blue and green. You liked bruises before, it showed how you fought for it. 

You apparently woke up two days later, and he lets you rest. Your body finally turns off survival mode for a second, just a second to adjust to the warm room. Four walls, the nice smell, it was just another thing you weren’t used to. Stillness. It was boring. But under these circumstances you were glad to have your own padded room to deal with this.

The time you were left alone, you didn’t know how long that would be. Another hour or so you’d think he’d come back in, hearing as you’re up. Time for more torture, though do torture victims get a bed and tended to? It felt more like you were a sacrifice, meant to appease him, though no one handed you over. 

You were brushed, scrubbed raw, and even felt a bit of shame for the way you were living compared to the two ladies who were taking care of you. But you didn’t know how long they’ve been in this line of work. Hell they honestly looked like they were born into it with the cold looks in their eyes. They could care less about your well-being, though they found and scrubbed every inch of you. Of course you didn’t want strangers to look at you, especially after such a moment that brought you here. To be real, these twins are probably the only people who knew you more than anyone you currently knew. 

Friends? You had a few, some to help you out sometimes, some to let you crash at their place. It was all fair game to the people you knew. Life was never easy for them and they knew of you being a free spirit. You didn’t leech off of them for you’d always show up with something in exchange, usually something you stole but it would never get traced back, it was either too common (but useful) or just something that would never be brought out of shown off. 

You weren’t a bad friend for it, if anything you were the perfect guest, though this time you didn’t mean to give yourself away for a few nights stay.

“I gotta get out of here, but where would I go? These people have already seen my face and I can’t tell how many more there would be. I can’t request anything to learn the layout of this place and no one will talk to me. If I leave I’ll have to run further and faster than I already have been…” You ponder more, sitting at the table placed in front of the window. 

They’re smart enough to know what I’d do if I wanted to pick a fight with their lord, of course there are guards at more doors, even under the window out your room, and it’s safe to say that there’s even a guard at each vent that’s connected to your room. 

“Why does it seem like I’m so special?” You sit and open the window, the guard below moves from his post to observe you on the same side has the other posted to view you. You look down at then and offer a wave, saying you’re not doing anything stupid, but you just wanted some air. One of them leaves, probably to get Sukuna. 

“I bet he’s just a lonely loser and I just happen to fall into his lap, or maybe I was one of many and was the newest. The girls here looked like they could be in the same position as you, though why weren’t they? They didn’t look like they were his blood, and there was no way that he could be their dad. That would make things even worse since you’re close in age as the twins. 

You see the guard go back to his post, nonchalantly. “Weirdo.” You thought. Not even a second later your room door whips open. Jumping from your place at the table, you turn and see who other than the man with the unpredictable entrances. “Finally up?” He leans on the door frame. “Honestly, you’re so dramatic for that.” He teased, being strangely familiar to you.

“Dude…” You caught yourself about to tell off this stranger. All you’ve known from him is that he’s having fun taking you and making you a toy, that his name was Sukuna and how everyone seemed under his control. Not that they enjoy it, but it didn’t look like anyone, even in their numbers, would stand up to someone like him. 

It still wasn’t apparent for you. He only told you his first name, his last could tell you that you were in even more danger than any “normal” man doing this to you. It could be such a metaphor but you’re literally trapped in the best place you’ve ever been. Was that just life? all the bad comes up when you’re supposed to be happy, and realizing how good you’ve had it as it gets ripped apart in front of you? The balance of it all only comes with ignorance, which was also why you wouldn’t get attached. You didn’t run to one person for everything you didn’t need more than what you’d ask for and that wasn’t much. If they were lucky you’d be there for 3 days at most. 

You lost your voice, his presence set in, bringing you out of your (if you can all it that) relaxed state. He notices you tense up, the look in your eyes begging him to give your body a break. He huffs and saunters into the room, taking a seat at the end of the bed, the side that’s facing you. “You had some time to clear your head, now tell me what was your intention. Playing dumb suits that pretty face of yours… But that’s not why I’m here.”

You sure knew nothing about this guy. Other than his name and how his body looked. How he felt was different, it just happened so fast that you could only remember how it lingered in your belly after he left you the second time. It wasn’t something you can forget, those were the best orgasms of your life. “Sukuna… I’m serious.” 

“You expect me to believe that? Did I hit you too hard?” You almost wanted to laugh, you saw stars and colors you couldn’t before his knuckles contacted your skull. Lifting his hand from his side to place under his chin made you flinch, a bit too hard for his liking apparently.  It took a lot for you to muster standing up on your own, much less realize you had to get to the table by needing support from the wall. It was like you were in an ice skating rink and had to hold onto the walls for dear life, except there was no ice, it was just pain in your body not letting you level yourself out.

“When you’re ready to talk, I might hear you out. My patience is thin you already know.” He stands and closes your door, sent a shiver down your spine. Him not being close to you, or hurting you, having this quick visit was so unsettling. 

It haunted you for hours. He didn’t touch you. The edge of the bed where he sat still held an energy, like he left a part of him right there to keep watch over you. 

He definitely hit you too hard, you were thinking more outlandish things to go with this scenario. Like why didn’t the touch you? You thought he was going to keep a pattern, that maybe after this he would come in periodically to taunt you. That maybe his patience has worn out and he was going to get rid of you any minute now, or to use you again. 

The trauma you got from this certainly messed with your self soothing methods. Every time you catch yourself hitting your peak of your self imposed orgasms, you were almost wishing you had more than just your fingers. You didn’t want him, but seriously its already been 2 weeks. You were gonna go crazy in here. The girls kept bringing you your meals, and a bathroom is attached, though you couldn’t do much by yourself. 

You were to let the others feed and bathe you, and you honestly hated it. It was way too weird, you never talked to them, and they never tried with you so it felt like there was an agreement to just not speak about it. That none of you were here willingly. That gave you some insight. Your body healed itself enough that you didn’t need the wall to walk anymore, making your trips to the table in front of the window more frequent. 

You notice some sort of schedule Sukuna follows, as well as a few other noticeable men in this kind of gated community. Whatever he has gong on here, it felt like you were almost a stolen princess locked away in a tower or something. “You have GOT TO get a hold of yourself.” You didn’t need to see a doctor or someone, you were fully aware that these thoughts were just you daydreaming to escape reality, yet again. Though this time it was getting boring, you couldn’t help yourself, literally. 

At this point you wanted to even ask one of the guards if they wanted to come in and help you out, but you didn’t have to do that, because a day later you decided to act. Rolling around night time, you decided to open your window a noticeable amount. By then the guards usually leave one guard to patrol the grounds in each quarter. 

The ones outside your door either end up sleeping or one leaves the other for a bathroom break, some nights they both go, probably to blow each other you thought. It wasn’t any of your concern, they did it before when you could barely move, but now you were agile again, enough to move around without hissing at each moment.

 Placing your ear to the door, you heard light snoring through it. “Okay, just find his room you thought. You knew that it took about 60 steps to reach a stair case, then that would be about 24 steps down. You could hear his footsteps through the pairs of others who followed him, as his echoed with pace, and the others almost scuttled behind them like bugs.. 

You find your way slipping past heavy wooden doors, making sure it wouldn’t creak, you saw the walkway in the garden. You looked up and saw your room, you knew it was yours as it was the only one with the window open. you knew that the guard just left this fourth of his grounds. You were searching the area for his room. Peering through the windows, it would have been hard to tell if it was him, but his tattoos were honestly unique. 

None of them were him, you go back to the walkway, going down the opposite end, just blindly working your way through. You couldn’t just walk through any door, it could be your last mistake, it being Sukuna or not. But it just had to be him, you wanted so badly to find his familiar face and just, you don’t know. 

You decide to be more ballsy, there’s surely no way he’s be in the same quarters that has this many people,” you decide to take your chance with the left corridor. “I wouldn’t take him for a cuddly guy anyway.” 

Listen, you know it sounds crazy, but if you even got to escape, you’d be hunted like a fox, unnecessarily, and as a spectacle for others to watch. But if you could find him, and do it yourself, “I mean, at least I’d die with something, and what a funny way to go.” You loved to joke about these kinds of things. Anytime it seemed dark, you’d find yourself cracking a joke or going off an other tangents from the barrage of thoughts coming your way.

You hold your breath as you set your fingers around the doorknob, you pull it back slowly, and turn it, to silence any squeaks it may have. After turning it fully, you let it go back and unclenched your fingers to let it go a second time, making sure there was no noise from the metal trap, and decided to go in. 

What fucking luck you had as if you broke into another room you’d think your breathing would start to give you away. As you head towards the bed, the raising figure laying there was him. Your eyes had adjusted to the dark, so much so that you could just stand in front of him. 

Looking down at him you wondered what you should do. You’re not going to kill him, that’s one thing, though you had nothing to lose, you still liked your life and you enjoyed whatever adventurous you got yourself into. It was always just one thing after the next and you’d rest when needed, but you loved it. 

This was totally different though. Before it was like you were born into this work and have to abide by its rules. As of right now you could do /anything/. What else would you do? 

You look down at him, kneeling at the edge of the bed to face him. Looking at his face like this, completely defenseless, his harsh eyes weren’t poking at you or telling you exactly what he was thinking. No he was just, he looked human. Like if you were to have met him at any other place it would possibly be on a magazine cover or an army recruitment booth posted wherever. 

“Damn bastard is beautiful.” You thought. “I didn’t get this far to stop now. Fucking 2 weeks you keep me here and don’t do anything? Do you know how boring that is? You can’t just keep me here and forget.” All that time alone had gone to your head, did you forget how he treated you the time you met? 

Tbh it fades in and out, your memory’s cut up pieces of film that randomly plays an old memory, and since you can’t recognize it, you call it a dream. 

Nothing could take you away from where you were now. Looking over him, still not a care in the world. Nothing could wake him if he’d allow it. You cocked your head to align your eyes with his, and reach out and brush your fingertips across his jawline. 

How much of this could you enjoy before he kills you for breaking out? Just that thought had you slowly leaning in, your hand before tracing his face was leaning onto the bed to support your intrusion. 

First, you kissed his forehead. The poor fuck probably hadn’t felt the touch of a real lover in ages, he just finds and uses whatever and whoever he wants, whenever. Of course you didn’t pity him, but does he even know what being loved properly was like? You’re really one to be asking. 

You peck the smooth, hot skin, and kissed a line across his cheek, getting more sensual with the next. His touch, even sleeping was still so manly. His body was so, honestly the words seem odd, but he looked so edible. Like you almost couldn’t keep your lips off of him. He was so yummy when you get a good look at him. 

Cupping his face, your lips reach his, beginning to lightly stimulate the connection. You lean in further, applying yourself onto him, guiding open his mouth with yours as you lick his lips. This shit was getting you so excited, considering all that he’s done to you, having this moment, where you’re in control and he was at your mercy, and only you know this.

Continuing to make out with your kidnapper, you moved yourself to get on top of him. His lazy reaction of kissing back had you think he was a deep sleeper, god you really wished. 

You opened your eyes just to make sure he was still asleep, but his eyes were staring back at you, with the same look he always has. You didn’t have time to even make a sound before he had you under him. His hand grabbed your waist and turned kept you parallel to him as his leg pushed his body to get on top. 

You could feel his erection, he was basically stabbing your thighs with his head. His hands pushed your wrists into opposite sides of your head, and he has you immobilized as he sat on your legs. Most you could move was your toes and neck, but he had pressed his face up against yours. 

“I don’t even know where to start with you. If you wanted to kill me, you would’ve already. Maybe I can believe you’re just some random, …but you wouldn’t have come to my room.” He lets a wrist go to reel back and strikes your face as a warning. Seriously, no sane person would just come straight back to him in your situation.

“The guard fell asleep?” Nothing gets by him. You can’t tell if he was just prepared for everything or if he planned this out. The excitement you were feeling before was being clashed with the sudden shock to your face. “Depending how the rest of the night will go will determine his punishment.” 

Keeping everything in place, he moves your chin up by his nose, giving him space to start attacking your neck. “We’ll just start with yours.” His grasp tightened around each wrist, so much so that he was pulling on the tendons in your forearms, making your fingers involuntary curl. 

Your luck may have run out, but you weren’t as scared. Trying to enjoy the moment as much as possible, knowing fully well that you’re about to be eaten alive, and god, youve been waiting. His teeth grazed your collar bone, making their way back up, making themselves a known threat to your neck. 

“Speak.” He orders. “Who sent you?” 

“You still think I’m a spy?” The spot where he hit you was pounding, but it didn’t hurt. Other parts of your body were just pulsating along with your heartbeat, you knew he was going to take that as a sign of fear. 

“Hurry up, we have a meeting tomorrow so I’m trying to be considerate for everyone else.” 

He’s still not listening. You weren’t either at this point, finding his roughing up sort of endearing. Maybe he didn’t want to get blood on his bed, or maybe he did care about that stupid meeting. All you could feel was vigorous pulsating from your wrists, your face, your heart, and more than anything else, your pussy. 

This was literally what you came here to do, this was why he even took you with him wasn’t it? Seriously whatever big shot he thinks he is… this shit wasn’t legal; You were serious on going out with a bang, raising your hips to create some friction on his hard on. 

Sukuna seemed to notice the look in your eyes and gave you another firm slap. “Focus, doll.” He adjusts his hips a few inches too far down your liking, his hands being the only thing touching you. 

“Put it back.” You got this far, now he wants to start questioning you immediately after waking up? He picked you up after meeting and ignored you for two weeks, you’re about to do what most others would. Especially if they’re in the same situation with the same circumstances.

“You’re not the one to be giving orders, much less to me.” 

You raise your hips back up to his head, having it dip into you, crossing your clit but unable to enter fully. His tip could find its way in no problem, it was just his call, and that almost drove him over the edge. You’ve stopped fighting back, for something like your freedom and what’s better for you. 

What you were after now was just one more orgasm brought by that monstrous mf. He doesn’t drop his guard, or change his face at all as he accepted “your bait/distraction”. In this position, you’re still straight legged, laying in his bed as he has you held down, arms pinned, palms up, and legs trapped as he sat on your thighs. 

He could easily kill you now, but it would honestly leave a bad taste as no one’s been killed in his room before, much less even entered without permission. You both didn’t know what to think really. 

To you he’s some strange and strong asshole who’s been unclear if you were his sex toy or if you were “invited” and he was just being a terrible host. Honestly, it felt worse to you to have everything you needed; Without your freedom, you were honestly thinking it’d be better to be dead. 

To him, you were dangerous. You got it all right. From the room, to the person to bump into, to the alley. You could have been a spy laying low, from whichever gang he thought you were from, he thought it would be good to hold you off to send a message to see who would come collect you first. They wouldn’t send someone if they didn’t have something to say. 

At first he did just want to keep you until one of them sent them back another message. It didn’t matter what happened to you, honestly he got bored. He’s a busy man, there was really nothing else to say. 

So imagine his surprise how you came crawling all over him tonight. He knew an assassin would’ve done it before he even knew the door opened, they were to make sure it was quick. The attack would have had to been fatal, whether they succeed in one shot or have them die as they’re leaving. And how quick they leave is how desperately they want to live. 

You, just came in to stare at him and decided you wanted something else. And it didn’t seem like revenge. That was a first, especially for him. Right now he was allowing it, letting you go. There was no way you could harm him, he concluded. 

Looking down at you squirm and pout, upset on how close you were to getting what you’ve been aching from and for. He won’t drop his guard, but he sure as hell was silver platter served. Really how badly did you want it?

He connects your wrists at the top of your head with one hand, the other has its index finger and thumb at the base, controlling himself with those two fingers. He raises his erection and knocked it against your clit, the strikes sent waves of pleasure from your core to the top of your head and palm of your feet, having you whimper out. 

Your aching hole needed him, it was taking him so long. Seriously you wish he’d kill you now because this so actually torture. The only thing you could do was start to cry, tears leaving their corners and running into your hair. You were more than frustrated. Angry, horny, needy, powerless, you wanted it so bad you were losing control, it didn’t matter, no one else could judge you, and who would be worse than Sukuna?

“You came in here, climb all over me, just to cry now? You’re so pathetic.” 

“Please,” You whine. “I want you to put it in.”

His face changed, from laughing at you beg, to sharpening his focus. Even after all this, getting caught, threatened, insulted, you’ve started to beg for it. He takes his legs up from pinning yours, putting them to your sides as he aligns himself to your front hole. “Say it again.”

“Please Sukuna, put it in-“ He lowers his hips and dives deep into you. He watches as your head writhes. Instantly youre spread apart, the sudden plunge casted a warm blush across your face and electricity towards the tips of your fingers. “Oooh,” 

“Fuuuuuck.” He finished for you. He continues to grind deeply into you, quickly using his now free hand to gag you from waking everyone up. Good thing too as you were messy, fucked silly couldn’t cover it. You gave up control a long time ago. He wouldn’t kill you, not right now anyway, you especially wouldn’t let him without trying to get one last nut. It was diabolical how down bad he had you. It was more of your unhealed trauma and he just happened to be the best person to help you out, willing or not.

——————————————————————————

You lay there as the base of your back ached. Every part of your body was bruised again, you could only imagine to move again as you tried catching your breath. You had lost count on just how many times he’s forced an orgasm out of you, mind numbingly rich euphoria every time. Nothing else mattered, you were more than thrilled the first 2 times but started to wonder if he ever got tired. 

It wasn’t until after your fifth orgasm that he managed to get his first one in. You were honestly almost regretting climbing into his room but his second had him pinning you on your back as he lay on your lower torso and legs. You couldn’t feel anything but your pulsating cervix, half feeling good from the pain and lingering pleasure, the other half making you know that this was a mistake and the nausea was on you. 

Raising your free arm, you weakly start to pat his head. It was over, you insatiable perverted needs were fulfilled, so what were you going to do now? It’s not like you’re in love with the guy, you don’t even know if you’ll get to wake up tomorrow with this stunt. “It was worth it.” You thought. Running your fingers thorough his hair, and tracing his back, you fall asleep holding him, accepting that this is it.

[pear1escence]

I miss what you’d do to me

Keegan P. Russ x Reader

Content Warnings: angry man idk

Might be a little messy cause the original draft with this fic got deleted yesterday and suddenly came up on my blog again so I’m just trying to fit some of it into what I’ve rewritten.

He’s a piece of shit in this, oops. (not really tbh) 1k+ words

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Keegan’s hands force the glass of water out of your grip, slamming it down on the kitchen counter. “I’m trying to talk this out, can you just fucking listen to me?!” He yells, hands waving around him to try and further express his anger.

He’s scary like this. You’ve never seen him in this state before. The way his body language gets more aggressive, his voice raw with frustration. “You’re so fucking frustrating, telling me you miss me when I’m gone and ignoring me when I’m home? Huh? Why the fuck do you act like this?!” His fist slams down on the counter, punctuating his words.

The anger is so familiar it hurts. Harsh, raw voices tearing at you and hate so burning hot you’re sure it’ll bruise. That scary, tall figure of a man towering over you. Fear, straight fear of what could happen to you if you didn’t keep your mouth shut and your eyes on the floor.

His words are spoken in a different language, the only thing you register is how jarringly hateful he feels. How scared you are. How it seems like at any moment, he could pick up that cup and throw it at you, or kick you to the floor, or do something, anything to hurt you.

Keegan’s warmth all around you when you wake up, too direct and unexpected. Confused, hurt glances when you refuse to stay, slow, aimless walks during the evenings, cold dinner and missed calls. Your pit of loneliness filled with adoration so suddenly that you have to pull away.

Your mind is a fucking mess, thoughts and emotions dragging around in a swirl of words and images you can’t possibly put to words. Keegan’s only making it worse, and you can’t bear to feel like you did before once again, and everything your mind has fought to keep away is forcing itself back into your body, so you have to slip away from yourself to make room for it.

Your body curls in on itself. Your eyes staring intently at the floor to avoid looking at him, and your arms wrap around your body and squeeze as hard as you can to try to make everything real again.

‘Look at me when I’m speaking to you.’

He’d said that to you when he was angry. You remember the way he got angrier when you wouldn’t look at him.

You force your eyes to move back to Keegan, even though his seemingly unstopping anger only makes it harder to tear your memories away.

It’s all so fucking unfair. You don’t want to have all this shit to deal with. He’s long gone. Out of your life, yet all the anger he’d thrown at you all those times still lingers in your mind.

Keegan’s love feels foreign. Kisses all over your face, a warm body wrapped around you as if to shield you from all the bad in the world, sickeningly sweet words coated a thousand times in love being whispered into your ear. You have no idea what you’re supposed to do with it. What you’re supposed to give him in return. It’s all wrong.

It’s weirdly comforting. The way he’s yelling at you. You’ve had it before, and you know how to navigate something like this. Keeping yourself out of the way, not being a bother, shutting the fuck up. You can’t feel guilty when Keegan’s an asshole, when he’s a piece of shit, cause if he’s not perfect all the way through and too good for you, you don’t have to be perfect either, and you don’t need to feel bad about pulling away and distancing yourself.

You almost forget any of this is even happening. It’s all gray and lifeless and fucking dead. There’s a bubble around you, keeping you separated from your emotions and making it impossible to explain anything to him. Keegan’s outside the bubble, his words are muffled and it’s like you’re underwater. His hands keep moving around, and he keeps shouting. Your body feels stiff and awkward. You can’t open your mouth, can’t dig a single word out of your throat to explain why you are the way you are.

“Did I do anything wrong? Anything for you to treat me like this? You’ve gotta tell me about these things, we’ve talked about it before but you keep fucking repeating this behaviour!” You hate the way he’s scolding you and you want to scream at him to stop, to get out, to shut up or just about anything to get rid of the ugly feeling in your stomach.

Keegan stops, his jaw clenched and his fists squeezed tight. He looks at you with so much anger, confusion and frustration you feel like you’re about to vomit. Something inside you finally breaks when his hand slams down on the counter again, harder than before, the sound deafened by the curse he shouts in frustration.

It’s like you slam back into your body, and you’re suddenly confronted with the trauma, the hopelessness, the shame you’ve been pushing away for years, and you have absolutely no possible way of keeping yourself together.

You’re so far from being in control of your body it scares you, sobs and tears pouring out of you while you can’t do anything other than feel the mess of emotions stirring at a furious speed inside you. Your legs give out, so you’re limply tucked into the corner where the kitchen counter meets the refrigerator. Metal handles dig into your skin, everything is too much and you can’t live like this.

You cry harder when Keegan’s arms wrap around your body, he lowers himself to the ground till he’s sitting next to you, pulls you into his lap and turns your body so you’re facing him. His words are unintelligible, but his tone is so different from the harshness and hate he’d thrown at you less than a minute ago. His big hand weaves itself into your hair and guides your face into the crook of his neck, his other arm wrapping around your body and shielding you from anything else.

Warm skin against cold fingertips, a mess of hair tickling your forehead, his lips pressing kisses to your head again and again. This is all wrong, it feels wrong, and you want him to yell at you again, you want to see him angry at you cause you deserve it for treating him like shit. You want the hate in his eyes to hurt you, selfishly, so fucking selfishly, because it’s the only thing you know and the only thing that would make you feel better about yourself.

You know the chaotic anger he showed, and it felt good because everything else about Keegan feels foreign. The warmth that comes with his touch and his gentle, sweet words, things you can’t force yourself to accept.

His fingers massage your scalp as he rocks you back and forth on his lap. “I’m sorry. Im so fucking sorry, I’m sorry.” He murmurs, his voice back to what you know, comforting, familiar because it’s all him, all Keegan.

He keeps rocking your body back and forth in his lap, talking to you softly, stroking your hair, and it feels good to be taken care of like this. To be treated like a baby, like you don’t have any responsibilities or problems.

You don’t look at him. When he begs you to look at him you shake your head, pushing yourself even closer. He talks but you don’t listen, whatever comfort he wants to give you is mirrored through the deep murmur of his voice, which is comforting enough to listen to on its own. You want to melt into him, stay with him forever, never have to talk. He’s all warm. You cry till your breath runs short and your throat feels hoarse, you cry until you’ve cried out all your years.

“It just feels so different. Like, foreign. The way you treat me.” You whisper against his skin, your hands slipping underneath his shirt to grip at his bare skin, feel that he’s real and human and here with you. “I don’t know what to do with it. I feel like such a fucking-“ your breath hitches, your words interrupted by another sob forcing its way up your throat. He holds you tighter and you’re practically buried inside him, your hands squeeze at the skin on his back.

He shushes you, kisses the hair that falls over your forehead. His hand moves to cup your cheek, lifting your face so that he can see your tearful, red eyes. “I’m sorry.” His thumb moves across your cheek in repeating motions. “I know all this is hard for you, I’m just..” his breath hitches, and his hand squeezes the chubby skin of your cheek. “Don’t let me yell at you like that again, never.”

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

If you enjoyed this check out my other Keegan fics, I have a bunch😭😭 all in my pinned!!

[fire-lizard-ro]

Aventurine angst/comfort

CW: spoilers for 2.1, Aventurine’s real name, talk of death/genocide, deep seated trauma, trying to heal from trauma, Aventurine's past, talk of slavery (his time as a slave), self loathing, esteem issues, talk of ego and sense of self, identity crisis???, a bit of a character study I think, meandering around because I cannot structure my thoughts whoopsie, there was a single Projecting Moment oops my b

Long post, so buckle up. I might add more later ehe-

No mentioned gender for reader.

Writing under the cut (SFW):

I had the sudden realization that Aven probably doesn’t know as much about the culture he lost as he’d like. Or at least as he’d secretly like to know. For years he was preoccupied with surviving and putting on a mask seared so deep into his ego that he might have forgotten those wishes were even there. But when the dust has settled, and his job is done? Once he’s “slipped the collar” and found his freedom? There’s… a lot less external noise to distract him from the noise inside.

It's just like he said. You must first fool yourself in order to fool everyone else. Aventurine must have tried his damnedest to forget the silly little wishes of Kakavasha. Those wishes needed to be buried in the dirt along with his name. They could never come true, so what was the use of having them in the first place? But that doesn’t stop the heart from yearning for the things it lost.

The longer he’s away from the stage, that place full of dazzling lights where it was always all eyes on him and he was always the circus act of balancing on a tight rope- always gambling on the knife’s edge between life and death… The more Kakavasha seems to remember what he used to dream of. It’s like the slow trickle of water from a crack in the tank.

Once he’s with you and he’s comfortable enough to tell you about his story… Once he’s given time to really trust you. The tank breaks and it’s like he’s a fish out of water, all of his “self” exposed under your gaze. It’s terrifying. But at the same time… healing. You’re his safe space. He’s never needed anyone to save him- that’s not what you are. You’re not some savior swooping in to save their damsel in distress. Sure, maybe it would have been nice had there been someone there for him back when he was just a scared child who had just lost everything he’d ever loved. But he fought, tooth and nail, for what he has now. Clawed his way out of the bodies that littered his past and wiped the blood from his mouth in order to finally gain his freedom. He doesn’t need someone to save him. Doesn’t need someone to fix him. But he loves you because you’re there to hold his hand while he finds his way to the end of the tunnel.

Nowadays he feels more Kakavasha and less like Aventurine. It's a struggle, because he doesn’t know if he should be Kakavasha.

Kakavasha was the name of the coward scared boy who could only run when his sister told him to run. Kakavasha was the name of a boy who lost everything and it was his fault. Kakavasha was the name of a boy made slave who was only seen as a pretty face and a tool it was all he was good for. Kakavasha was the name of a boy who could do nothing to save anyone all because of this damned blessing curse favor. Kakavasha was the name of a failure.

But he also didn't know if he was allowed to be Kakavasha.

Kakavasha was also a child who was untainted by the greed of life.

Kakavasha was an innocent child who knew how to trust people.

Kakavasha was allowed to want and to have. Kakavasha was loved.

Could he ever be loved? Having done what he'd done? Been what he'd been? Been who he'd been?

Was he Aventurine? Or was he Kakavasha?

Who was he, really?

Back then it was so noisy. He just wanted to cover his ears to shut out the screams and the voices of the people who wanted to use him and the chants of those who wanted to kill him-

But now all the noise was inside and he couldn't just cover his ears. It wouldn't help. It wouldn't stop these thoughts from running rampant in his head.

Sometimes it felt like Kavasha was a lifetime ago, detached from Aventurine when his mask he always wore took hold of him again. Both a helper and a jailer. He couldn't stop himself from falling into old habits.

But sometimes Kakavasha was all he could be. Remembering what his sister's smile looked like and how his mother's lullabies sounded and how his father's hugs felt.

Remembering how those last hugs felt and those last goodbyes weren't supposed to come so soon.

Remembering what it felt like to be chained up like some unruly pet dog and what it felt like to kill a man.

Remembering what how it felt to bury his past and his name and his family and everything else he ever loved and become a new person.

Remembering what it felt like and what it took to become Aventurine.

With time, your encouragement and support, and some self reflection (and likely some therapy)... He slowly allows himself these things.

But it gets worse before it gets better.

He learned how to hate himself long before he had the notion that he could love himself.

He learned to love others before he learned to love himself.

He gives away all the love he cannot give himself. To you

(There's the projection help- THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE FUCKING HOUSE-)

With time he learns that he is not the sum of his actions. He can be loved. He IS loved.

You help him find what things researchers have managed to scrounge up from the remains of his people's home- from Sigonia. What they recorded even while they were still around. He sifts through painful memories to find the good ones. Remembers the once forgotten feeling of his people's language in his mouth. Teaches you all the curse words first just for fun but doesn't tell you what they actually mean. Gives you a nickname in that pretty mother tongue of his. Murmurs stories and sweet nothings in your ears while you fall asleep on his chest, the rumble of his voice and the beating of his heart lulling you to sleep.

You help him regain some of what he lost. You stayed and weathered the storm with him. You didn't leave and you made him realize with eyes wide open that you love him. That he's worthy of being loved by you. That being worthy was never even a question in the first place.

And he can never thank you enough for it.

His shoulder to lean on, his hand to hold, his ear to listen.

He is Kakavasha and he loves you.

[general-cyno]

okay punk hazard was a bit shorter than I expected but still fun. and my two favorite things wrt zolu in this arc were:

1) getting to see a lil bit more of luffy and zoro as a chaotic, ride or die duo

zoro claiming he can just slice a whole ass dragon in half, luffy having absolutely no doubt that he can do it and actively encouraging him with a bit of help of his own, then both of them talking mid air about how tasty it looks/how to cook it? peak crazy dumbass x crazy dumbass behavior.

it was also cute and funny how robin immediately (correctly) assumed zoro would carry luffy across the water and that, well, it kinda ended up happening as it was zoro holding onto luffy when they fell in.

2) THIS ENTIRE PAGE

(this is gonna get a bit long oops)

the thing about zoro is that he can be a big softie. he cares a lot more than ppl might think at first glance, and he worries. especially where luffy's concerned, even if his words can seem harsh at times. for all that zoro definitely trusts luffy's strength and believes in him, he worries for luffy's safety anyway. one example of this is back in alabasta when sanji points out that zoro was worried luffy might lose to crocodile despite having agreed with luffy's decision to stay behind and confront him alone.

zoro's also very aware that luffy's not really infallible, that he's got shortcomings and weaknesses of his own. but that's not an issue per se - because zoro's willing to make up for them, for luffy's sake. like in thriller bark, when he leads and convinces the crew to protect luffy's shadow and to believe that luffy would take care of everything else:

on top of that, zoro takes luffy, the crew and his own role in it very seriously and something he expects from them and from luffy, especially, is to do the same. this is clearly seen back in water 7/enies lobby when zoro refuses to accept usopp back into their group unless he genuinely apologizes first and even threatens to leave if luffy doesn't square up to be/act like the captain he is. because luffy's the captain, they rely on him and he's responsible for the crew in turn. more so since, as zoro reminds him, they aren't playing at being pirates. at this point in the story, they've gone through different adventures together, fought and risked their lives each time as well.

aaand to go back to thriller bark for a bit, zoro's also the one person in the crew who has first hand experience with the kind of pain that luffy endures for other ppl's sake. all in all, zoro truly cares about luffy, so much that he's willing to put his dreams and life aside to protect him, and by extension, the rest of the straw hats too. part of that care includes not only sacrifices like the one on thriller bark, but also anchoring luffy and setting him on the right path if needed. that scene from punk hazard? an example and byproduct of all this.

though I gotta say, perhaps what I like the most is that luffy... actually listens to zoro whenever these important moments happen. those two share a single braincell and are usually on a similar (or the same) goofy wavelength most of the time, and zoro is often one of luffy's enablers, so you can see that when zoro goes off at him for real like in water 7 or at punk hazard, luffy is surprised at first. but he listens. and in punk hazard, apologizes and reassures zoro that he won't be careless again. it's a bit of a subtle but compelling part of their dynamic, that does well to emphasize the equal footing and reciprocal nature of their relationship. it's not zoro following along blindly, nor is it luffy just being an idiot and receiving undeserved loyalty. it's really good honestly.

[dancingtotuyo]

Scathed 9 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, self worth, smoking, idiot(s) in love?, references to the drug war and colombia, Narcos season 3 spoilers

Notes: shoutout to my forever beta reader @janaispunk for looking this bad boy over!

Words: 2923

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry August 4, 1994  Dear Javi,

There are things I can’t bring myself to say. Even out on the back patio under the safety of the stars, I can’t tell you how scared I am that you won’t come back. It terrifies me. I did life without you for so long, but I’m not sure how to go back to life without you in it. We’re going to miss you alot. 

You won’t ever see this, but please come back. 

This time would be different. It ran on repeat in Javier’s head as he stared out the large windows that overlooked the buzzing city. New position, new apartment, new drug cartel. This time had to be different; he couldn’t get lost in it like last time. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to start back at the DEA in the morning.

He unpacked his last suit case, having put it off since his arrival Friday night, the one that contained his few treasures in life. Framed photos from Chucho: the ranch, the two of them, an old family photo with his mom. A crayon drawing from Alejandra: both of them on horses. A bottle of whiskey from Jaime. A journal from Emily. 

“To write down all those thoughts racing through your mind. Even the ugly ones,” she had told him.

He set it on the end table next to the family photo with his mom. This time would be different. A silent oath. 

Alejandra’s drawing went on the fridge, the bottle of whisky on the counter, and the other pictures on the bookshelf. He looked around. It all felt scattered, empty, nothing like the apartment he’d made for himself last time. 

The familiar urge to go out, drink a couple of fingers of whiskey, and take a warm body home crept in. He fought against it. He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. This time had to be different. He’s promised himself over and over again it would be. He promised his dad he would call and write. He told Emily the same… 

Could he be here and not let it consume him? Could he be soaked in it all and still talk to her? Be worthy of her friendship? Being here, he felt the sins of his past marring his hands, so real and tangible. The same hands Emily allowed to touch her, what a privilege that was. The same hands she felt safe in. 

Javier thought about all the things he used to do when these thoughts raced through his mind when he couldn’t handle the big emotions: bars, cigarettes, sex. Too many times to count. His fingers itched at his side to grab his leather jacket and go. 

He paced the length of his apartment running a hand through his messy hair. Then it caught his eye: something sticking out of the journal. He pulled it out. 

A crisp envelope with his name written neatly in the middle: Emily’s handwriting. He popped it open. Polaroid pictures. He shook his head thinking about the grief he gave her for carrying that thing everywhere, but a smile appeared on his lips. There was one of him standing in the riding rink as Ale trotted around him on Hurricane. Another taken on the patio just last week: he and the kids eagerly chowing down on popsicles before they could melt in the Texas sun. He could see the red ring around Mateo’s mouth and drip down his chin as the sun beat him. One on the small dock next to the boys and his dad, lines cast into the pond Chucho stocked on the ranch. Javier smiled. Miguelito caught the biggest bass that day. Chucho had been dumbfounded. 

He sucked in as he flipped to the last one. It was the picture Alejandra had taken at the park just after he told her he was returning to Colombia. She leaned into him, an ease rarely seen in her. He’d caught a whiff of her shampoo, followed her lead, and leaned in. His thumb rubbed over the picture. He’d put an arm over her shoulder, her hand on his knee it all looked so… peaceful, domestic even, like they were- He cut the thought off, letting the picture fall to his coffee table. 

For so many reasons, that was a bad idea. 

He padded his pockets, finding the Nicorette gum. He popped the last piece into his mouth. He should grab more on his way to work in the morning. 

The Polaroid stared back at him. He looked happy, wrinkles cutting deep around his eyes. He picked the photo back up. He had been happy that day. Happier than he could remember even as he grappled with his decision to return to Colombia. Black ink on the back grabbed his attention. Don’t forget about us, okay? Her handwriting again. Her words to him that day.

He smiled to himself. That was his friend. He wasn’t sure he’d had one of those for a long time. Sure, he and Steve got along, but Steve was back in Miami. They still talked about once a month, but the bond he felt toward this woman was different. He and Steve had been forced together. They had to trust each other. Their lives had depended on it. Javier’s life sure didn’t depend on trusting Emily, but he did. She didn’t judge him. There were still things he hadn’t told her, and vice versa, but he knew when he was ready, he could. 

Javier slipped the photo of them into his wallet. This time was different.

He grabbed the phone off the end table and called his dad. The conversation was brief. The last thing he wanted to do was run up anyone’s phone bill, but he could tell his dad was happy to hear from him. He’d rarely received communications from Javier when he was in Colombia the first time. 

His fingers hovered over the buttons as he contemplated the second call. He told her he’d call. She told him to call. He pushed past the anxiety, pressing the buttons succinctly. He had it memorized. He checked his watch. It was bath night in the Kuykendall house. He knew that, but usually, the kids were bathed and in bed by now. 

Javier smiled as he thought about the few times he’d stumbled into bath night. It was true chaos and an event, but every single person wore larger-than-life grins. It was one of the times Javier felt like he was a part of something bigger than himself, like he’d been brought into something sacred. 

“Hello?” Anna answered. He could clearly hear the laughter of children and adults in the background. 

“Hey, it’s Javier… I can call back if this is-“

“Not at all.” He felt Anna’s welcoming presence through the phone. “Emily just came out of the bathroom.”

“Bath night.” Javier chuckled. 

“Exactly,” Anna called for her stepdaughter. Javier couldn’t hear their exchange over the shouts coming from the living room. 

“Javier?”

An ache in his chest eased. “Hey, sounds like a madhouse there.”

Emily laughed and the sounds muted as if she’d shut them behind a door. “Dad seems to have extra energy to chase the kids down tonight. How is it to be back?”

“Strange.” Javier glanced out the window. The city flowed like it always did, people rushing from place to place. “I’ve got a nicer apartment this time.”

“Of course you do, Mr. DEA attaché.”

Javier chuckled. “That sounds too fancy for me.”

“You said the same thing when you bought those suits and I gave you that snazzy new haircut.”

Javier grinned, resting against the countertop. His eyes fluttered shut as he remembered the feeling of her fingers through his hair. His shirt stretched and pulled across his chest as he inhaled. “Still sounds too fancy for me.”

“You ready for your first day?”

“No.”

Her laugh crackled through the line. “Then why’d you go back.”

At that moment, Javier wondered the same thing. He’d much rather be back in Laredo chasing the kids around the living room. “I’m askin myself that same thing.”

“Then do it. Tell the DEA where to shove it and come home.”

He smiled, low chuckle pulling from his chest. “You and I both know I have unfinished business here.”

“Yeah…” Silence sat between them. He could still hear the kids in the background. Javier wracked his brain for the right things to say, but everything he wanted to say he couldn’t. “Finish it quick, okay?”

“That’s the plan.”

“And stay safe. I can’t lose one of my only friends.”

“Oh?” Javier said. He felt an easiness take over him. “What about Lorraine? I thought she was your friend.”

“I said one of, and you’re my best friend anyway.” He can hear her eyes roll. “I mean it though, we all miss you already.”

“Tell the kids I said hi, okay? I’ll call another night when there’s time to talk to them.”

“Will do.”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I should be saying that to you.”

“Em.”

“I will. I promise,” she said. “You too, Javi.”

Journal Entry August 8, 1994 Dear Javi,

I bet you spend all day behind a desk and hate every moment of it. It makes me laugh each time I think about it. It assures me that you’re okay too. Fancier job means a safer job, right?

As his first day back came to a close, Javier felt like he’d been there for a year. When he found the sticky note with the name of a nearby bar on his desk presumably left by Neil, he told himself one drink wouldn’t hurt. This time would be different. The mantra felt almost meaningless already. Similar things had been echoed in his meetings all day. This wouldn’t be like Escobar. There would be law and order and protocol. Politics were more important than ever. The world was watching now. 

One drink and then home. That was what he told himself as he sat down at the bar, ignoring his coworkers at the corner table. Pulling off his suit coat, he motioned the bartender ordering a whiskey. He turned down Neil’s invite to join the group. The guy was too eager to kiss his ass for Javier’s liking, put him up on a pedestal for taking down Escobar as if he hadn’t been suspended at the time. 

He swallowed the whiskey as soon as the glass was set in front of him. Then, he ordered another. Javier wasn’t sure how long he sat there, but it was too long. He rubbed his thumb over the crease of his forehead trying to talk himself out of the opportunity for stress relief sitting in front of him. The group in the corner had dwindled to two. A blonde he hadn’t met and the brunette he met at the beginning. Neil had introduced her. Karen? Katherine? Katie?… Katie sounded right. 

His staring wasn’t subtle, wasn’t flirtatious like he’d used to do it. If anything, it was creepy, staring at her while thoughts raced through his head. The mantra shortened until it was only a couple words as he tried to talk himself out of it. Different. Be different. It echoed over and over in his head. 

The bar was practically empty by now. She looked up and smiled at him like he wasn’t being a creep. He didn’t return it, still deep within his own mind. 

“Pretty girl.” Javier’s head snapped around to find fucking Bill Stechner of the CIA at his side. He slid onto the stool beside him. “Displays some shaky judgment in men though.” He looked at Javier.

Javier glanced away from Bill, looking over his shoulder as if to convey his annoyance with his whole body before turning back to him. He forced the briefest tip of his lips, the closest thing to pleasantries he could summon for the man. 

As most conversations with the CIA agent do, Javier was left with a sour taste in his mouth, the innate craving for a cigarette, and his failures thrown in his face. Then, Stechner laid it all out for him, the way things would go whether Javier liked it or not. Cali’s surrender. The facade of justice for the Cali Cartel. He didn’t like it, any of it, and he wasn’t sure why he came back in the first place, or why they even needed him. The DEA didn’t. He was just a pawn in Stechner’s game. 

“Cali will serve some time,” Bill said. He doesn’t look at Javier, keeping his eyes pinned to the bartop. “Technically speaking.”

“And that’s enough for you?” 

The look that crossed Stechner’s face is something akin to a blend of annoyance and patronizing as he met Javier’s eyes. “If there were any justice in this world, Javier, you’d be in jail.”

It was only half a second before Javier averted his eyes, the shame of what he did flooding him. He wasn’t the hero everyone acted like he was. Stechner knew that. Javier kept quiet. 

“I know your guys are running an operation on Cali tonight.” Bill stood, putting enough cash on the bar to cover his and Javier’s tabs. “I can tell you this, it’ll come up double zeros.” More silence. “These guys don’t make mistakes. You try and go after the Cali bosses, all you’ll get is more bodies.” 

Stechner finished off his drink, patted Javier’s shoulder, and walked out without another word, leaving Javier with a bigger stress headache than he came in with. Try as he might, Javier couldn’t push it out of his head. He needed something, a distraction. He wouldn’t survive without one. 

Javier finished off the whiskey in front of him. He rubbed his forehead, searching for any relief. Different. It seemed quieter now, further away like his resolve was slipping. He needed to be anywhere that wasn’t here, shut off his brain.

He stared straight ahead, eyes glazing over, shining in the dim bar light as he pinched his top lip between his thumb and forefinger. Different. It felt useless, like he was bound to fail. A whisper of an oath. Maybe there was no different for him.  

It was almost instinctual, the way he glanced over, eyes meeting hers. She offered him a soft small now sitting alone at the table, cigarette held between her middle and pointer finger, like she had been waiting for him.  

“This is Peña. Leave a message.” BEEP.

“Hi Mr. Javi! It’s me, Ale. I miss you already. You should call me soon.” 

“Alejandra, who are you on the phone with?”

“Mr. Javi’s voicemail.”

“Ale, it’s expensive to call Colombia. Hand me the phone.”

“Oops.” She giggled.

A long sigh crackled over the line followed by a pause. “Hey Jav… I guess I’ve paid for the next couple of minutes, I might as well use it. I suppose you’re already working late since it’s after eight. Don’t let them work you too hard, okay? And you should still return my call.” More dead air. “It feels silly to miss you as much as I do. I feel like I haven’t talked to you in days… Oh! I got into that class I was waitlisted for. Anne is willing to work with my school schedule so I still get my hours in at work.”

“Mommy!” A voice calls out in the background as a crashing sound follows it. 

“Shit” The machine clicked off. 

Javier woke up tangled in his navy sheets with the same stress headache and a greater hankering for a cigarette than he’d had in months. Katie slept soundly on her side next to him, back facing him. Her brown hair spread out over the pillow. She hadn’t tried to cuddle, and thank god she understood what last night had been. 

Without a second though, he reached for her purse, careful not to wake the naked woman next to him as he eased into a sitting position. Relief flooded him when his fingers glided over the pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

There was no hesitation as he put the cigarette to his lips and flicked the lighter to life. The nicotine flooded his body for the first time in months. Finally, he found some relief. 

Journal Entry  August 13th, 1994 Dear Javi,

I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m sure you’re okay. Dad said there were no reports of anything happening. You’re just busy, with your first week back and all… 

Alejandra asks every morning if you called her back. Mateo asks too. I think he’s hoping for stories of chasing down bad guys. Even Miguelito asked about you. 

We all miss you so much. 

Javier played the voicemail over and over, but he couldn’t bring himself to call back. He hadn’t lasted a day into the job without reverting to old habits. He’d fooled himself into thinking things could be different, into thinking if he did this the right way, if he brought down Cali the right way, he could be worthy of her one day. 

The whiskey burned on its way down. 

Journal Entry August 15th, 1994 Javier, 

I swear if you went and got yourself killed on your first week back, I’ll never forgive you. I won’t even say any nice words at your funeral. Imagine that, your best friend holding back all the nice things about you. The world can just remember you to be the asshole you showed them.

Seriously though, signs of life would be appreciated.

…………………………………………………………………..

Taglist: @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @burntheedges @southernbe @fanyyoouu @greengirlwurld

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @weho2kcmo

[dixonsgirl93]

Flashback

Daryl Dixon x fem!reader Word Count: 1k Warnings: Angst, PTSD, comfort Content Description: Daryl comforts reader after they see their abusive ex for the first time in years.

A/N & TW: This is mostly just for me because of what happened to me the other day. Short version - I saw my abusive ex after 5 years and almost had a panic attack.

Long Version (feel free to skip to the story idm): So we have a child together and the other day was meant to be an induction day for the child contact centre. They were running late so our time overlapped with his. We were never meant to meet that day or any day. I turned and saw him and my heart was in my throat from fear and shock. I had to choke back a sob because our son was next to me.

Daryl and I were out on a run in the city where once walkers owned but now it was desolate, overgrown with nature and rotting corpses. Still, it could be worse, I thought, as we made our way to one of the buildings that had medical supplies. The infirmary in Alexandria was getting low so I mentioned a building I know and Daryl was quick to offer his help.

So here we were, walking in near silence. It had me on edge, body tensed for attack. It could also have partly been to the knowledge that, despite 5 years passing since the outbreak began, my ex Ben, who subsequently ruined my life, was last known to live in this area.

I think it was just lingering anxiety from before, but it was so hard to shift and now being here 5 years later, those feelings rushing back. I hadn’t missed that. I never even thought I’d care about it in light of being stalked by the dead.

Subconsciously I was watching out not only for walkers but him too. Stupid as it was, the PTSD he left me with was all too real.

“You all right?” Daryl’s voice broke me out of my trance.

“Sure.” But I sounded anything but and I knew he knew it too. I felt his eyes linger on me for a moment more, probably deciding whether to pry or not.

“I used to date this guy.” I started with a heavy sigh. Me and Daryl had grown quite close over the years, understanding and trusting each other. I felt like I could open up to him about something I’d kept to myself all this time. Up until now there was just no reason to talk about it.

“Yeah?” He stopped walking, turning to frown at me. I heard the curiosity in his voice about where I was going with this and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah, like 9 years ago. Left me with PTSD. Haven’t seen him in about 5 or 6 years. He used to live in this area. I know I’m being paranoid. I can’t help the anxiety though.” I was scanning around us as I talked, not bearing to see whatever expression was on Daryl’s face.

“He could be dead. And even if he wasn’t, if he was smart he sure as hell wouldn’t stay in the city.” Daryl’s voice was firm but reassuring.

“I know. You’re right. I’m just being silly.” I finally look at him and try to smile.

“The building’s just here right?” He points behind himself and I nod.

~~

We approach the building and go to turn a corner before Daryl pushes me back against a wall and then I hear it, voices.

Daryl turns me to walk around the other side of the building to avoid them.

“Hey!” An unfamiliar voice yells and my hairs stand on end. My body tensed once again for attack as I turned to face the one who called. “Who are you?” He asked.

“We don’t want any trouble.” Daryl held his hands up, crossbow on his shoulder.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Said the one who called again. He was tall and had short finger hair. He was also pointing a rifle at us.

My eyes fell on one of the men near the back and his face mirrored mine, my eyes wide. My heart raced and a lump formed in my throat. I turned my back on the group and fought the tears that stung my eyes, not wanting anyone to see my weakness.

“What’s up with her?” The ginger one asked.

“Nothing. We’ll be on our way then.” Daryl put his hand on my back and pushed me away from them.

“Hang on a minute.” He called as we neared the corner.

“Run.” Daryl whispered before shoving me out of the line of fire and running behind me, I headed for the alley on the other side, hiding behind stairs to a back entrance. I heard gunfire and yelling and footsteps. Daryl appeared around the corner and broke the back door entrance in. We rushed inside and put a thin wood board between the handles to hold them off. Together we ran up the stairs to the nearest room and hid and waited.

Gunfire stopped long ago and the voices faded. My heart was racing so fast and I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Hey.” Daryl put his hand on my shoulder as I collapsed against the wall, sitting and leaning over. That’s when the sobs I’d been holding back wracked my body in waves.

“It’s okay. I think they’re gone. Hey. Look at me, Y/N.” Daryl put his arm around me and gently tried to move my arms from my face.

Eventually I looked up at him, my eyes feeling puffy, my throat sore and dry.

“That was him.” I whispered, trying to steady my breaths.

“Who? Ginger?” He looked up at the door as if expecting them to come barging inside.

“No. He was at the back. He saw me.” My voice shook, his cold, dark eyes boring into me once more and my chest tightened.

“Hey. Seriously. Look at me. Please.” Daryl’s voice became a little less steady as my panic attack came over me again. The room felt too small and too dark and too warm. I clambered to my feet and leaned over on my knees. “Y/N? What is it? How can I help?”

“I need air.” I gasped, clutching a hand to my chest.

Daryl then took it upon himself to stand in front of me, hold my face in his hands and stand me up straight. He looked me in the eyes and I saw so much worry there that it broke my heart.

“Y/N, you’re with me. You’re safe. He won’t hurt you. I won’t let him, okay? Breathe. Deep breaths. Come on, that’s it. Good. You’re doing good.” And then he watched as my breathing steadied, my chest relaxed and the room stopped closing in on me.

“Thank you, Daryl.” I whispered. “I’m sorry I freaked out.”

“Don’t be sorry. I get it. But just know I got you. I always got your back, no matter what.” He gently pulled me into a hug and he stroked my hair. After a moment we pulled away and I smiled at him, wiping my face.

[struggling-with-drivers]

This is pure brainrot

Been having a lot of thoughts lately, since I can't seem to finish and actual fic, have this idea of some wish au or time travel au or whatever.

Au where Charles got granted a wish to change one thing in his past.

Max is on his knee in front of him, and Charles can't take it anymore.

"Charles will you marr-"

"I did something bad." Charles rushes out, tears already prickling.

"What?"

"Max I did something terrible." Charles repeats himself. "Something horrible."

Max's face twists as he looks up at Charles, a sight that usually would bring him nothing but pleasure, but now it rushes him with guilt.

"Charles. What did you do?" Max is slowly closing the ring box. A loud snap accompanying the motion.

"I- you- we- I'm sorry." Charles breathes out, "I'm so sorry, I had to do it, and you need to know."

Max is getting up from the ground the box clutched in his hand as a look of disappointment washes over his face, maybe even anger with the way his face is turning red.

"Charles, what. Did. You. Do." Max is punctuating each word.

"You were a world champion."

"What?" Max nearly laughs, "what excuse is that?! Charles did you sleep with someone else?!"

"Wha- no, no!" He screeches, "you were a 3 times world champion on your way to your 4th, and I just, Max. Max I made a mistake."

"What do you mean world champion?"

"I got a chance, I didn't think it was real, I was drunk and this guy showed up, and talked about if I could change one thing, and I told him, and I don't know, then everything changed, and chèri I'm so sorry."

"I'll humour you, what did you wish for?"

"Remember when we were 6, the 2nd time we met, I saw your dad hit you over the head. I wished I had told my dad instead of staying silent."

"What do you mean? But you did say something, your parents helped my mom and-"

"No Max, I didn't..." Charles watches as Max's face scrunches, an urge to puke forms in Charles.

"You didn't." Max's voice cracks as he seems to look like a train hit him, a lifetime of memories that aren't his floods his mind.

Max went to live with him mum, the Leclerc's helped them, and Max didn't, he was never left a gas station, he never kept karting, he went to school and was good, he got into university, he kissed Charles. He... Won. A lot Max won a lot and fought with Charles, and called him horrible words, and Charles hated him, and Max kept winning, Max drove fast cars, Charles by his side. Max won 3 championship, nearly a 4th as well. Max didn't go to university for a degree. Max was a formula 1 championship and Charles took it all away from him.

-

Charles had watched Max get hit by his dad when he was 6 and said nothing about it.

During a night out after a race, a club he shouldn't be in considering that he got 9th in a fucking Ferrari, and yet he was. Unable to forget the stiffness of Max's shoulders as Jos didn't even congratulate his son for the win.

When black hair flooded his vision asking questions about his life, his regrets, what he would change, and Charles must have been drunker than he thought.

Because out of everything he regrets, he told the stranger, "I regret staying silent."

And Charles never said about what or when or how, but then he had blacked out. He didn't even remember leaving the bar, but a pair of arms was around his waist, and then he had been shocked when he recognised those hands, and then a gruff voice had asked him why he was awake so early, and Charles...

Charles had let himself fall back asleep, all too content with pretending everything was normal, with how Max looked at him. Max looked so happy whenever he looked at Charles, and Charles just couldn't take anything else away.

So he stayed, and pretended to be the Charles this Max knew, the one who works as a model, the one who listens to Max talk about V8 engines that he's working on for Audi.

Charles hoped that it had all just been a far too vivid dream that had stuck around in the back of his head, muddling his memories, but he knew. He knew what he had done, and he just couldn't take the lightness away from Max again.

Not when he smiles so brightly, not when he looks so relaxed, not when he looks at Charles in the way Charles had wanted for more years than he had ever been able to process.