#replies (amara)

[anexthetxc]

"You have to go? Now?" Amara wouldn't let them. Who cared about work. She was ready to quit her job to stay with them one more morning without having to worry about the rest of the world -- they could wait. Moments like this where she was able to feel happy, truly happy, were rare, but they were becoming more and more frequent whenever they spent time together.

Amara rolled over so she was laying on top of them, playfully pinning them down so they couldn't go anywhere. "And what if I don't let you go to work?" she asked, holding firm in her position with the surprising amount of strength she hid so they couldn't wiggle free. "So you're a little late. Stay here a bit longer. With me," she added, the final words holding a bit more weight to them.

@n0chanxes // starter from Amara

[diminuel]

I was wondering if you might show us the difference between the "Winchester" way and the "Amaran" way of tying a cravat since Dean has been so particular about it multiple times on your fic (which is amazing)?

Haha! I imagine that Cas' way of tying the cravat is not necessarily the Amaran way. It's just the excuse he uses for tying it sloppily. (But then again, a sloppy cravat is most likely fashionable among the young aristocracy of Amara. Just like the hair style that looks like you let the wind do all the styling work for you. It's rakish.)

Usually, Dean wouldn't wear a cravat in this style, but if you make a bow, then at least make it tidy! *lol*

Drew too much OP, I don't remember how to draw Cas, help.

[fireborned]

↳ @hiddcnhorizcns continued from here for tracker purposes.

Her gaze immediately lifted to the sky where the dragon soared overhead. Her lips parted slightly in awe as she watched powerful wings slice through the air, her scales catching the fading sunlight and casting fleeting glimmers of light across the camp. The creature moved with a grace that seemed almost impossible for something so immense, and Amara felt her breath catch in her throat. Wide, crystal-blue eyes followed the dragon's descent, curiosity and fascination dancing across the woman's face. She had heard tales of dragons before—stories whispered in the quiet halls of her home, where they were spoken of as both fearsome and majestic—but seeing one in flesh and scale was entirely different. Her heart thudded in her chest, caught between wonder and a timid sense of unease. Amara turned at the sound of his voice, her gaze sharp and assessing as it swept over him. She had learned long ago to study before speaking—to weigh her words, her actions, her very presence. This man, Kael, carried himself with a quiet power that felt distinctly different from his brother's looming shadow, even if she had only a vague recollection of the latter. The dragon behind him was impossible to ignore, a majestic, intimidating creature whose presence filled the air with a palpable hum of energy. Her lips pressed into a thin line, the question forming in her mind even as she carefully unfolded it. His words hung between them like the sea mist, heavy and uncertain. A faster way to the reach. She allowed her eyes to drift to the beast resting lazily on the sand, as if the idea of carrying her was no more than an afterthought. “She’s beautiful,” Amara murmured, taking a hesitant step forward, her bare feet sinking into the sand. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, more out of nervous habit than cold, though the breeze carried a sharp chill. The dragon’s tail shifted with a slow, almost playful motion, and yet Amara felt the air sharpen with danger. This was no gentle offer. “I see.” Her voice came soft, though there was an edge beneath it—a steel honed by years of courtly lessons and quiet defiance. “And what do you think, my lord? That I should trust myself to your dragon? To you?” Her head tilted slightly, the faintest shadow of a smile brushing her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes. It wasn’t an outright refusal, nor was it a submission. Amara knew the weight of what this moment demanded. She had spent her life navigating precarious tightropes between diplomacy and defiance. Her answer would carry consequences, whatever it was. She let her gaze linger on the dragon for a beat longer, then returned it to Kael, her crystal-blue eyes locking with his. “You must forgive me if I seem cautious. I have been traded away like a pawn on a board, and the pieces around me remain… unfamiliar.” There was no malice in her words, only truth, her tone steady as she met his expression head-on. A pause, the wind catching at her cloak and sending it billowing behind her. Her fingers tightened briefly on its edges, grounding herself. “But,” she added, quieter now, “if this is your way of extending kindness, I will not refuse it. Perhaps it will serve us both to move forward with some… trust.” Her words carried an unspoken challenge, as much for herself as for him. Trust was not something she gave freely, but she understood the necessity of survival in these new, uncharted waters. She stepped forward, her bare feet brushing against the cool sand, stopping just short of the shadow Thalindra cast upon the ground. “So,” she said, lifting her chin, “how does one ride a dragon, Lord Kael?” The faintest flicker of wry amusement touched her expression now, a crack in the solemn mask she wore. “Or is that another test altogether?”

[touchedbydestiny]

cont. from here || @malka-lisitsa

         it was really a surprise for amara to see katherine smile, she was always absolutely grim, grumpy, or even malicious. an expression of the inner emptiness that amara had already noticed at the beginning (which is probably a bold assumption but it's what amara concluded when she first met her doppelgänger).

         amara was even more surprised when katherine offered her one of the red fruits that looked noticeably bigger than what she remembered.

         "thanks for the offer." amara even smiled shyly at katherine. she believed it to be a kind gesture, again something that amara hadn't witnessed before. truth be told, she was curious about what these fruits tasted like but it would be wrong to take one.

         "they make you happy, you don't have to share your happiness. i'm glad for you that they bring you joy." of course amara didn't conclude that the strawberries alone didn't cause this positive change in katherine.

[alfea]

i feel like i’m constantly saying this but i really do miss lovestruck so much

[folklore-girl]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HANA I LOVE U SM UR SO SLAY <33333

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU ILYSM MOREE KSKSKSK <333333

[antigonewinchester]

@setyourfireonme

god that whole dialogue makes no sense to me... i'm sure it does in the context of the later seasons (?) but this just confirms that i shouldn't watch them if this one thing manages to make me so annoyed lol and seriously thank you for posting your insightful insights <3 you've actually made me have an interest in the later seasons i haven't had before

I’m here to watch the later seasons so you don’t have to 🫡 🤔

It was touch & go for a bit, but ultimately I think I'm glad I watched all of the show, if only to judge the later seasons for myself & get the full context not thru fandom hearsay. But personally, wouldn’t recommend watching later seasons for their own sake, either. The Amara-Dean scene is essentially S12 in miniature, so if it alone annoy you, well… Perfectly fine sticking with early seasons if that’s what you enjoy <33

[chromehearted]

☎

MASON & AMARA,

name: nip obsessed baby gorl ❤️ ringtone: i'm in love with you by the 1975 picture:

last text received: amara → missing you lots last text sent: mason → do you think mosquitoes get off on biting people mason → be honest

KAT & JAX,

name: dumbass 🤡 ringtone: the circus theme song picture:

last text received: jax → you're so pretty baby jax → i can't believe god created you and put you on this earth just for me last text sent: kat → what the fuck do you want

NATE & HAILEY,

name: wife 💍 ringtone: stargazing by the neighbourhood picture:

last text received: hailey → i won't hesitate to murder you in your sleep last text sent: nate → you should go see a therapist nate → it can't be healthy having this many personalities

SAVANNA & THEO,

name: spawn of satan ringtone: i hope ur miserable until ur dead by nessa barrett picture:

last text received: theo → so much for hating my guts huh ;) last text sent: savanna → if you see me check into a mental facility, mind your business savanna → and no, we won't be speaking about it ever again

[ofcosmicentity]

muselist. rules.

[ofthedecay]

In the safe zone, Amara finds a hoard of outside food someone has been keeping. What does she do, if anything?

Amara stares down at the hoard of food she's found, fingers tapping lightly on the loose floor board it was hidden beneath. She'd been exploring the safe zone when she found and now she's in a conundrum. Does she leave it? Take it for herself? Or share it with others?

The urge to take it for herself is there; to be completely selfish... but maybe.. maybe it would be best to leave it for now. Just in case the safe zone becomes no longer safe. There would be a stash waiting for her... It doesn't feel right, but they're in a whole new world now and if she wants to survive she's going to have to be selfish.

Slowly, she puts the floor board back in it's place and leaves the way she came. Hoping against all the odds that it'll still be there in the future.

[gethxme]

continued from. @famekils

"i'm not sure if my pr team would approve the 'this bitch' part." he says with a smile, laughing softly. "don't think I'd come out on top with that one. it would be a great move for you though, very smart." he gives up, placing his phone face down beside him and turning to her. "are you trying to set me up?" the words are meant as a joke, his tone light and smile still present.

[anexthetxc]

"I'm not the woman you're looking for. I was cleared of that months ago, go bother someone else if you're stirring up trouble."

[thclastlight]

LOCATION: wherever amara is staying shfksjh FOR: @phantomtownx (amara)

"Come on, Hopie," Uriah urged his daughter, her little fingers enclosed in his as he helped her out of the car, "we're gonna give Amara the cookies we decorated. Remember 'Mara?" Making his way up the sidewalk, he balanced the plate of the sweets on his hip, releasing his daughter's hand just long enough to knock on the door. He would have left her at his mother's place, but since the bonfire and now the bowling alley event, Uriah's anxiety had been at an all time high. If he was going to be any comfort to his cousin, he needed to know for a fact his daughter was safe. "Amara," he called out, "it's Uriah. I wanted to see how you were doing. Hope and I made some cookies for you."

[taliawade]

Talia chuckled softly as she stood, brushing off her hands with a light laugh. "I know a great pizza place nearby, and I’m buying," she said, knowing the exact place with perfect pizza at this time. "You won’t regret it. Trust me, it’s my favorite, and you’ll see why once you taste it."

She paused, considering the question for a moment before answering, her voice lighter. "I’m not in the habit of inviting strangers out, but I figure there’s a first time for everything. Plus, it feels like the right thing to do."

@amarawash

Her dark curls bounced as she nodded, her eyes focused intently on the woman across from her. “I can see that,” she replied, standing up and brushing off her hands. A soft laugh only escaping her lips at the mention of the real danger here in town.

A part of her was taken aback by the invitation; she certainly hadn’t expected it, yet she felt an almost eager desire to accept. “Yeah, I’d be up for that,” she chirped. “Do you do this often? You know, inviting strangers out?”

@taliabrown

[v6quewrlds]

❝ my little love, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: the afc championship game is around the corner. thankfully amara burrow is more than happy to make sure her daddy is ready to bring it home.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: a little game dey fic based on an anon request for good luck. might make this a series possibly bc i'm in love with this concept <333 ty anon for requesting!!

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: mostly fluff and an adorable toddler. joe's a little out of character but pls let me be a little delusional.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x wife!reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 4.5k.

The morning light painted the room a soft shade of gold as your eyes slowly opened to the sound of Joe's quiet footsteps. His honey-blonde hair was still damp from the shower, and you felt a pang of loss as his body heat retreated from your shared space. You watched him from the bed, his strong arms moving with the ease of routine as he pulled on his clothes. His Bengals hoodie hung from the chair, a silent reminder of the day ahead.

"You're leaving already?" you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

Joe looked up from tying his shoes, a warm smile playing on his lips. "Got to get to the stadium, babe." He walked over to the bed, planted a kiss on your forehead, and whispered, "Early morning practice before the game tonight."

You sat up, your heart racing as you realized the significance of the day. "It's AFC Championship day," you murmured softly, your lips pulling into a lazy smile. "Amara's going to be so disappointed she slept through your send-off."

Joe chuckled and leaned over to kiss you again, this time his lips lingered on yours. "It's okay. She'll probably be asleep for another few hours." He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. "But I'd better get going." He turned to leave, but your hand shot out, grabbing his arm.

"Can I make you some breakfast?" you offered, pushing yourself up on your elbows. "Just something quick?"

He looked at you with affectionate amusement. "Nah, I've got it covered. You just rest up. Enjoy your day off, baby." With that, he stood up to his full height.

His blonde head turning to look at the door as it cracked open. Amara's curly hair appeared first, then her sleepy eyes peeked through the gap. She looked around the room, her gaze finally landing on her dad. "Daddy," she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joe's smile grew wider as he crouched down to scoop her up in his arms. "Hey, baby girl," he greeted. Amara giggled, her cheeks pink with the excitement of being woken by a surprise. She snuggled into his embrace, her small arms wrapping around his neck.

"Why are you leaving?" Amara asked sleepily, her voice muffled against Joe's chest.

"I've got a big game today remember, pumpkin?" Joe replied, his voice gentle. "But I'll be back after practice to get ready for the game with you and Mommy, okay?"

Amara nodded, her eyes half-closed as she drifted back to sleep in her father's arms. You watched them with a mix of love and amusement. "Looks like she's not going anywhere," you said with a chuckle. "Let's get her back to bed before she decides she wants to come to practice too."

Joe carefully laid Amara back on the bed, her curly hair fanning out around her on the pillow. He kissed her forehead before standing up. "Alright, I'll be back soon. You stay here with Mommy," he whispered.

You watched him go, feeling a mix of pride and a hint of sadness as he disappeared from the doorway. You knew this was his moment, and you were determined to make sure everything was perfect for him. After a few minutes of cuddling Amara back to sleep, you slipped back into your own slumber. The warmth of your daughter's body and the quiet whispers of the morning lulling you into a peaceful doze.

When you woke up, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, casting bright beams through the windows. Amara was playing quietly with the edge of the bedspread, her eyes glued to the side of your sleeping face. You kissed her forehead, "Good morning, sunshine," you murmured. "Daddy has his big game tonight, remember?"

Amara's eyes lit up, and she nodded vigorously. "I'm going to help him win," she announced.

You chuckled, "Well, you've got to get ready for the game too, baby girl. Let's go brush your teeth and get dressed." You picked up your daughter, who was now fully awake, and carried her to the bathroom. The smell of minty toothpaste filled the air as you bent over the sink, supporting Amara's little frame as she brushed her teeth herself. Afterward, you made your way back downstairs to find a surprise waiting for you: two plates of steaming pancakes with a side of cut and washed strawberries and a sticky note that read, "For my two favorite girls."

"Look what Daddy made us," you exclaimed, pointing to the breakfast spread.

Amara's eyes grew wide with excitement. "Can I have syrup?" she asked, her voice tinged with hope.

"Of course, you can, honey," you said, pouring a little pool of syrup onto your daughter's plate. "But not too much, okay?"

You sat down at the kitchen table, the pancakes steaming up the windows. You took a bite of yours, savoring the sweetness that Joe had managed to capture perfectly despite his rush. You could almost taste the love he'd put into it. As you ate, Amara chattered away, her excitement for the game contagious.

Once breakfast was done, it was time to get ready. You washed and detangled Amara's curls, applying a generous amount of coconut-scented conditioner. The scent filled the bathroom, mixing with the humidity from the hot water. Most days it was a struggle to get Amara to sit still for hair brushing, but today she was surprisingly patient as you worked through her curls. The TV played the pregame show in the background, with the sounds of commentators and cheers from distant crowds setting the atmosphere.

"Mommy, can I wear my special shirt today?" Amara asked, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Of course," you responded, referring to her tiny, custom-made rhinestone jersey that read 'Daddy's MVP' in glittering letters. It was a miniature version of Joe's home game attire, and Amara absolutely adored it. He had it made for her third birthday months in advance, and it had been a staple of her wardrobe during the football season.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence as you continued working through the curls, your fingers moving with practiced ease. You couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Despite the excitement of the day ahead, there was something so grounding about these quiet moments with your daughter.

As you worked, the jiggle of the doorbell echoed through the house. "Who's that?" You gasped dramatically, knowing full well that your husband had returned from practice.

"It's Daddy!" Amara shouted, jumping off the chair and sprinting towards the door.

You couldn't help but laugh as you followed her daughter, calling after her, "You know you can't just run off like that, young lady!" But the sound of Joe's laughter as he walked through the front door told you he didn't mind. When the two of you entered the living room, Joe was there, freshly showered and dressed in a casual outfit. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, and he scooped Amara up, twirling her around until she squealed with delight.

"Are you getting ready for the game?" Joe asked Amara as he set her back down, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

"Yes!" Amara exclaimed, bouncing in his arms. "Mommy's doing my hair right now." She pointed to the chair you decided to carry with you downstairs. You had learned the hard way that once her father was home, it would be hard to get Amara away from him.

Joe's eyes met yours, and you could see the warmth and love in them. "You're doing a great job," he said, planting a kiss on Amara's forehead. "Why don't you finish up with Mommy and then you can help me get ready?"

You nodded, "Let's get those curls looking perfect for the game." You sat back down with Amara on your lap, continuing the meticulous task of styling her hair. The sound of the TV grew louder as the commentators discussed the upcoming matchup. The excitement was palpable, and even you felt a thrill of anticipation.

While you worked your magic with Amara's hair, Joe took a seat on the couch, his eyes glued to the screen. His gaze would occasionally drift to the two of you, a soft smile playing on his lips. Despite the nerves that were surely bubbling beneath the surface, he looked relaxed and at peace. You knew that seeing his family happy brought him comfort, a nonverbal pep talk before the battle ahead.

As you patted her head to signal she was done, Amara looked up at you with wide eyes. "Done?" She asked, her voice filled with excitement. You nodded, and Joe hit the pause button on the TV. "So, Coach," Joe began, gaining Amara's attention as she skipped over to him. "You gonna help me watch film?"

Amara nodded excitedly, her head bobbing up and down as if she were at an interview. You watched them with a warm smile, the love in Joe's eyes for their daughter was something you never got tired of seeing. As Joe carried Amara upstairs to his office, you took a moment to appreciate the quiet house. You knew that once your in-laws arrived, the calmness would be replaced with the buzz of pregame energy.

Your phone vibrated with a text from Robin, Joe's mom. "Be there in 20!" it read. 

You hurried upstairs to finish your own makeup and hair. You had decided to go with a sleek bun, throwing on your 'Burrow' jersey and slipping on a pair of leggings just until Joe's parents arrived. As you applied a coat of mascara, you heard the doorbell ring.

Rushing downstairs, you threw open the door to find Robin and Jimmy standing there with arms full of Amara's favorite snacks and juice boxes. "We come bearing gifts," Jimmy said with a wink.

"Thanks," you said, taking the boxes from them and setting it on the kitchen counter. "Amara's upstairs with Joe, watching some last-minute game film."

Robin and Jimmy exchanged surprised glances. "On game day?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's new."

"Amara's the only one who can get him to break his routine," you said with a chuckle. "I'm married to the man and I'm not even allowed in there on game days. Forget the day of the AFC Championship."

Robin laughed as she set down her bag and looked around for somewhere to sit. "Well, she's definitely her daddy's little girl."

"You have no idea," you said, rolling your eyes playfully. "But it's cute. And honestly, it keeps her out of my hair so I can get ready in peace."

You all shared a laugh, the tension of the impending game momentarily forgotten in the warmth of your family dynamic. Jimmy leaned against the kitchen counter, his eyes gleaming with pride. "It's good to see him loosen up a bit. The game's going to be intense enough."

You nodded in agreement, your eyes flickering to the stairs where you could hear Joe's low voice explaining plays to Amara. "You guys grab whatever you want," you offered, gesturing to the fridge. "I'm just going to go get dressed properly."

In the bedroom, you were surprised by the sight of your daughter, now dressed in her rhinestone jersey and sitting cross-legged on your bed. She had her dad's playbook open in front of her, her little hands tracing over the diagrams with a serious expression.

"Where's your player, Coach?" You asked with a smile, stepping into the room.

Amara looked up at you with a grin that was all Joe. "He's getting ready," she replied, her eyes bright with excitement. You couldn't help but feel a swell of pride at your daughter's enthusiasm. You quickly changed into your own game day outfit, swapping your leggings for straight-leg jeans and low top Jordans that matched Joe’s cleats.

As you finished up your makeup, Joe emerged dressed to perfection in his game day outfit. He picked up Amara, who squealed with delight as she was swept into his arms. "What do you think, Coach?"

Amara studied him intently, her eyes roving over his outfit and the matching shoes. "You look like a winner, Daddy," she declared with the confidence of someone who had never seen him lose.

Joe chuckled, his eyes shining. "Thanks, Coach." He leaned over and kissed you. "You too, beautiful."

Your cheeks heated up with a mix of love and excitement. You had picked out the perfect outfit to match your daughter's jersey. The three of you made quite the trio: Joe in his tailored outfit, you in your jersey, and Amara in her mini-me version of Joe's game day look.

You made your way to the stadium, the energy in the air electric. Fans in black and orange jerseys lined the streets, their chants echoing off the buildings. The anticipation grew stronger as you approached Paycor Stadium, the towering structure a beacon of hope for a victory that would take the Bengals to the Super Bowl.

As you walked through the tunnel leading to the sidelines, you felt your heart pounding in your chest. This wasn't just any game; this was the AFC Championship. You held Amara's hand tightly, her eyes scanning the field as Joe went to join his team. The players warmed up, their movements an anxious show of power, each one focused on the task at hand.

Amara's grip grew tighter as she finally spotted her uncles, Joe's teammates, and friends, Ja'Marr and Tee. "Look, Mommy, there's Uncle Tee and Uncle Ja'Marr!" she squealed, pointing. You laughed and nodded, your eyes finding the two men who looked over and waved. They broke away from their warm-up routine to come say hello, their smiles wide as they approached the little girl in the sparkling 'Daddy' jersey.

"Look who we have here," Tee said, bending down to give Amara a high five. "Little Miss MVP herself."

Ja'Marr chuckled, ruffling her curls. "You ready to help us win today, Coach?"

"Yes!" Amara exclaimed, her eyes shining with excitement.

"That's what I like to hear, Coach," Joe said, coming up behind his teammates, his eyes crinkling with pride as he looked at Amara. "You two keep the good vibes coming, okay?" He kissed you and Amara on the cheek.

"You got any tips for us, Coach?" Tee asked, playfully bumping fists with Amara.

Amara nodded solemnly. "You gotta catch the ball, Uncle Tee," she said, her arms resting on her hips. The spitting image of her father's mannerisms.

"Just me?" Tee feigned shock, his smile growing wider. "What about Ja'Marr?"

Amara giggled, her eyes shifting to the other player. "You too, Uncle Ja'Marr. You gotta run really fast!"

The two men laughed, their ease a testament to their years playing together. "We'll keep that in mind," Joe said, hoisting Amara up and spinning her around. She squealed with delight, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest, watching the love between your husband and daughter.

After a few more minutes of conversation with the teammates, Joe set Amara down and kissed her cheek. "I got to go, pumpkin. But I'll see you after the game, okay?"

"Good luck, Daddy!" Amara shouted as Joe jogged back to the field, her voice carrying over the noise of the growing crowd.

You took a deep breath, your eyes following your husband until he disappeared into the sea of players. Then you turned your attention to your daughter, who was now bouncing up and down with excitement. "Come on, let's get to our seats so we can watch Daddy play," you said, taking Amara's hand and leading her through the bustling corridors of the stadium.

The two of you made your way to the luxury suite reserved for the families of the Bengals' players. The walls were adorned with photos of past games and memorabilia, differing from the chaotic energy outside. The suite was filled with other families, their laughter and excitement creating an infectious buzz.

You and Amara found your seats, the plush couches offering a cozy spot to join Joe's parents. The view was breathtaking, the field stretching out before you like a green canvas waiting for history to be painted upon it. As you settled in, your phone buzzed with a text from your sister, asking if you had arrived and if you had seen Joe yet. You replied with a photo of Amara in her jersey, her cheeks rosy from the excitement, and a thumbs up.

The game kicked off, and the roar of the crowd filled the stadium. The players on the field were mere dots of color moving swiftly, their movements precise and powerful. Each play was met with cheers or gasps from the spectators, and even Amara, with her limited understanding of the sport, knew to clap when the crowd did. You held your breath every time Joe took the field, your heart racing in sync with the clock. The tension in the suite grew with every pass thrown, every tackle made.

Throughout the game, Amara remained glued to your side, her eyes rarely leaving the screens broadcasting the action. She munched on her snacks, sipped her juice, and whispered questions about the game that you did your best to answer. Despite the excitement, you noticed her daughter's eyelids growing heavy. The excitement of the day was taking its toll, and the warmth of the suite only added to her sleepiness.

As the fourth quarter approached, the game grew tense. The score was close, and every play could be the deciding factor. You held your breath, your heart in your throat. The other families in the suite mirrored your anxiety, your faces a mix of hope and fear. The air was thick with anticipation, the only sounds the occasional murmur of a prayer or a shout of encouragement for the players on the field.

Amara leaned heavily against you, her eyes drooping. You knew it was only a matter of time before your little girl succumbed to the call of slumber. You cuddled her closer, whispering reassurances that Joe and his team would pull through.

On the field, Joe played with a fiery determination that was palpable even from their lofty perch. Each pass thrown, each yard gained, brought them one step closer to victory. The clock ticked down, each second feeling like an eternity. With less than five minutes left, the Bengals were 2nd and goal, the crowd anxious with anticipation.

Amara's eyes fluttered closed, lulled by the steady rhythm of the game and the warmth of your embrace. You held her tightly, whispering words of encouragement to Joe through the glass, as if he could hear her. You watched as Joe took the final snap, his eyes scanning the field, his body poised and ready. The crowd held their breath as Joe threw a Hail Mary pass, the ball soaring through the air with practiced precision. It was caught by Joe's favorite target, Ja'Marr, in the end zone, sealing the Bengals' win.

The suite erupted in cheers, the sound deafening as confetti rained from the ceiling. Amara stirred in her sleep, mumbling something incoherent. You felt a mix of relief and elation as the scoreboard flashed in victory. They were going to the Super Bowl. The final whistle blew, and the players on the field hugged and high-fived, their faces a blend of exhaustion and triumph.

You made your way down to the area outside of the locker rooms. Amara's head resting on your shoulder, sleeping peacefully. As Joe emerged from the lockers, his eyes searched the suite until they found your eyes. He waved, a grin stretching across his face. You felt a surge of love and pride as you returned the gesture, your voice lost in the mess of the crowd. The other players dispersed to their families, but Joe's gaze remained fixed on you. He made his way over, dodging well-wishers and reporters.

When he reached you, he leaned in to give you a kiss. "We're goin' to the Super Bowl, baby," he whispered, his voice hoarse from shouting on the field.

Your eyes shone with unshed tears. "I'm so proud of you," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

Joe's grin grew wider as he turned to Amara, whose eyes had snapped open at the sound of her father's voice. "Did you win, Daddy?" she asked, her sleepiness forgotten.

"We did, baby girl," Joe said, scooping her up in his arms. He held her close, the joy of the moment reflected in both their faces. "Couldn't have done it without your help, Coach."

Amara giggled, her tiny hands clapping together excitedly. "I'm proud of you, Daddy," she said, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt. Your heart swelled with love as you watched them, feeling the warmth of their bond.

As Joe started to transfer her back to you and walk towards the podium for his post-game press conference, Amara tugged on his arm. "Can I go with you?" she asked, her eyes hopeful.

You looked at Joe, a hint of uncertainty in your gaze. "It's okay," Joe assured you, setting Amara down. "Let's go, Coach." He took his daughter's hand, and she beamed up at him.

The press conference room was a whirlwind of flashing cameras and eager reporters. Joe sat down at the podium, and Amara climbed into his lap. She looked around at the unfamiliar faces with wide eyes, but she remained still and silent, as if she understood the gravity of the situation. You took a spot at the back of the room, your heart beating a little faster than normal. You knew your daughter was a little star, but you didn't want to steal the spotlight from your husband's moment of triumph.

As Joe fielded questions about the game-winning play and his thoughts on heading to the Super Bowl, Amara studied the microphones and notebooks with curiosity. Her tiny hand rested on her father's forearm, her thumb tracing patterns on the fabric of his shirt. The room was still but you could see the way Joe's gaze kept flickering down to your daughter, a silent reassurance passing between them.

When the questions shifted to Joe's family life and how they supported him, he didn't miss a beat. "They're everything," he said, his voice earnest. "My wife, she's my rock. And my little coach here," he leaned down to poke at Amara's tummy, "Keeps me on my toes." The room melted at the sight of the quarterback with his daughter, and a round of 'awes' echoed through the room.

Amara, sensing the shift in attention, straightened up, giggling as she looked around, a hint of shyness creeping into her expression. She was used to her father's games, but this was new, even for her. She leaned into Joe's side, her thumb returning to her favorite spot on his shirt.

You watched from the back, a proud smile on your face. Your heart swelled as Joe spoke about you, your bond, and your life together. It was a rare moment of vulnerability from your husband, who was usually so focused on the game.

One of the reporters leaned in. "And what does it mean to you, having your daughter here today, watching you play?"

Joe's eyes lit up as he looked down at Amara. "It's incredible. She's my biggest fan and my biggest motivation." He ruffled her hair, and she giggled, looking up at him adoringly. "I want her to know that she can do anything she sets her mind to, just like her mom and me."

The room was silent, the cameras capturing the tender moment. You felt a tear slide down your cheek, and you quickly brushed it away, not wanting to distract from Joe's moment. You knew he meant every word, your family's love and support were what kept him going through every game.

As the press conference came to a close, Joe hoisted Amara up in the air, her giggles filling the room. He turned to the reporters, his smile never faltering. "Alright, that's all I got today. I have to get this one back to her mother."

They made their way back through the crowd, Joe's hand on Amara's back, guiding her through the throng of people. You felt a mix of excitement and fatigue, your body still buzzing from the win. The ride home was a blur of congratulatory texts and calls from friends and family. Honks from passing cars and shouts of "Who Dey!" filled the streets as they drove through the city.

At the house, Robin and Jimmy had already set the table with a spread of Joe's favorite post-game meal: a hearty pasta dish and garlic bread, with a bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket for later. "We figured you'd be too tired to cook," Robin said, giving you a warm smile.

"You guys are the best," you said, looking over at Amara wrapped in Joe's arms. The little girl yawned and leaned her head on his chest, already nodding off to sleep.

"Let's get her to bed," Joe suggested, his own energy waning. "Thank you so much for this, Mom, Dad. It means a lot."

You took Amara from Joe's arms, cradling her sleeping form against her chest. "No problem," Jimmy said, patting his son on the back. "We're gonna head off to bed. But you two enjoy the rest of the night."

You climbed the stairs, whispering sweet nothings to keep Amara calm as Joe trailed along, his arm slung over your shoulder. In her room, you carefully laid your daughter down on the bed, whispering a final goodnight. Amara's eyes remained closed, her breathing deep and even. Joe leaned over to kiss his daughter's forehead.

"You okay?" You asked, looking into his tired eyes as you finally made your way up to your room after eating and clearing the dishes.

Joe nodded, his smile a bit weary. "Just can't believe we're going to the Super Bowl," he murmured, sitting on the edge of the bed. He stood up and took your hand, pulling you closer into his warm chest. "Thank you for being here, for supporting me through everything."

Your arms wrapped around his neck, heart swelling with love. "And I always will, baby," you said, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek. You felt the weight of the day's excitement slowly start to lift from your shoulders. The quiet of your room, the gentle hum of the city outside your windows, it was all you needed to feel at peace.

You changed into comfortable clothes, Joe slipping into a loose t-shirt and sweatpants while you donned your favorite oversized sweatshirt. You cradled Joe's head on your chest, fingers scratching at his scalp as he drifted in and out of sleep. His breathing grew deep and steady, the tension of the day slowly leaving his body.

[anexthetxc]

Amara knew she was being followed. One bad decision for taking one rough job was beginning to turn in to a lifestyle change and suddenly she found herself always looking over her shoulder.

She was still new at all of this. But she wasn't naieve, and knew right away that someone was watching. Rather than play innocent, or get violent, she turned around and confronted the person.

"What do you want?"

@warsinmyhead // starter from amara