#ya'll are so wonderful and creative

[generalsmemories]

Unwanted reunion

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ prompts: “catching the other one crying shortly after an argument and immediately feeling an overwhelming wave of guilt crash onto you.” + "it's okay, we can fix this..." + “playing with their hair until they fall asleep”|| 1k event

✧ contents: hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, implied character death

✧ a/n: if u wonder how in the world i came up with the scenario below. i genuinely don't know either it's a mystery to even me. CREATIVE LIBERTY WINS AGAIN THE PROMPTS WERE LITERALLY INSPO AND NOT WRITTEN DIRECTLY INTO THE SCENARIO. also implied that this took place after the battle with phantylia so keep that in mind.

NOT BETA-READ AS USUAL FELLAS I WANTED TO HAND THIS OVER TO YA'LL ASAP AS AN APOLOGY FOR STARVING YOU ALL FOR SO LONG!! it's mild angst though, so sorry.

Jing Yuan's can feel a familiar heaviness weigh on his body as well as the feeling of someone wrapping a roll of gauze on his arm. However opening his eyes proved to be a challenge in itself and it's only with great struggle that he can manage to force them slightly open to the bright light.

The first thing he notices is the familiar ceiling of your shared home. A bit weird since whenever he did get injured he would immediately be rushed towards a private room by the Seat of Divine Foresight - which was the safest place for him to stay. Perhaps you had gotten your will again to take care of him - seeing as you're a high ranking healer yourself and quite a stubborn soul.

But his eyes still widen a tiny bit when he sees you sitting by the edge of the bed, one hand gripping his gauzed wound while your other hand is busy trying to find something to keep your hard work in place. You're humming a soft tune again, he never knows what sort of melody you're humming, only that it had become a habit for you after the amount of years you had spent by his side bandaging his battle wounds. Something about helping your mood and staying positive.

"Your recklessness knows no bounds, Jing Yuan." the sternness of your voice snaps him out of the daze he's in, immediately rising up from the bed only to groan in pain when the wounds that you had just wrapped up react to his body folding, "... And still don't know when to rest - even when I'm in the middle of treating you."

"...How much time has passed?" he asks, voice hoarse after having slept for who knows how long. You only hum, setting the bandages aside - the gesture causing Jing Yuan to follow your hand movements which makes him notice the bloodied bandages inside the trash by your legs.

"A couple of days, I was just finishing changing your bandages when you finally woke up. Here, some water." you inform, raising a glass towards his lips, patiently waiting for him to move closer.

You only start to speak again after he's taken several gulps, placing the cup of water back on the nightstand beside his bed. "Why are you so willing to throw your life away?" you ask after a moment of silence, helping Jing Yuan rest against the headboard, eyes never leaving his own that don't dare to even look into your own.

"It's my duty-"

"Your duty is to make sure as many of the Cloud Knights survive a battle. Not gamble your life on a piece that you weren't sure had the capabilities to help."

Jing Yuan bites his tongue at your immediate rebuttal, you were right after all. "The Master Diviner was right there by you. A troop was enough to guard the entrance, you didn't need to leave the master diviner with them to go on this-"

"... Can't you be happy for once whenever we meet like this?" he asks quietly, effectively stopped you from saying anything more. His gaze is cast downwards whenever he mutters the same question to you whilst shrinking a bit after asking. There's no sign of the proud general in your presence - in front of you is just Jing Yuan asking a supposedly harmless question.

Perhaps that's the reason why you can never shove him away immediately.

"... You know what my answer is."

Jing Yuan was no crier. In fact, you think he stopped crying or showing any visible sign of discomfort or uneasiness the day he got the title as General. You're pretty sure you can count the amount of times you've seen Jing Yuan cry on one hand.

Perhaps his ability to hide his own needs and wants so often day by day for the past centuries makes your dismissal of his simple wishes that more gut-wrenching for you. You try to ignore the overwhelming guilt that washes over you every time you have to say the same thing to him.

"... You have a lot of things that you want to get done on the Luofu, Jing Yuan." you murmur softly, extending a hand to run your fingers through his locks, breaking apart any knots that may have formed in his sleep.

"You know we can meet again, but now is not the time - especially now," you gently remind with a sombre smile, your hand moving from his hair to rest against his chin to make him face you.

"It's gonna be alright, okay?" he scoffs at your reassurance, finally coming to terms with your conditions once again like always, wrapping his arms around your waist to fall down back on the bed with you on top.

"Remember the last time you said those words to me?" he says, almost sounding offended at your choice of words to which you only smile against his skin in guilt.

"It was the first time I saw you cry so hard," you try to joke, pressing your hands against the mattress to push yourself off of Jing Yuan, choosing to hover above him instead.

"... I'm sorry," you decide to say in the end after a moment of silence, once again threading your fingers through his hair - an act you knew used to calm him before. At this moment though, you're not so sure.

"Why? Shouldn't I be sorry?" he asks in return, a small yawn leaving his lips as his eyes struggle to stay open. You smile bitterly as you shake your head, still threading your fingers through his hair.

"No, none of it was your fault - what happened back then was out of your control. But this time it isn't. I can wait for a long time, Jing Yuan. I know you're aware of that so don't try to rush anything to meet me again." you tell him, leaning down to press your lips against his forehead.

"So it's time to wake up, dear. Luofu is waiting for you."

[trippinsorrows]

give me a reason + one

authors note: welp. here i am, once again. granted, i'm a bit excited about this one, as it's a unique storyline, at least not as cliched as maybe 'ltye' or 'with me'. trope is essentially age gap x best friends brother x second chance romance x something else that'll be revealed by the end of this chapter and my own creative flairs.

the age gap between mariella and joe is four years, and nothing romantic happened between them until she was in her twenties. just putting that out there now. ari don't do that grooming shit.

their story will be told in a mixture of flashbacks and present day. how they ended up where they are now will eventually be revealed, but until then, it's expected that ya'll are confused.

words: 9k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: angst and fluff

if i tag anyone and you don't want to be tagged, please let me know!

taglist: @annfg8 @whatdoeseverybodywant @sayyestoheav3nn @cyberdejos2 @prettybitxhnica @shayaaaaaaa

Summer, 2003

“Ladies, next week officially starts the beginning of the rest of our lives. No longer will we be lowly 8th graders. No, we will be official high schoolers! Next week is a new beginning, a new era, a new decade of wonderful, fabulous, life changing—”

“Baby girl, do you want a hot dog or a burger?”

Mariella releases the loudest, most exaggerated sigh known to mankind that is possible for a 14-year-old. She turns from where she was pacing across the stones that line around her family’s pool. Sure enough, her 6’3 father stands before her with his spatula in hand, wearing his apron gifted to him for Father’s Day a couple years back. He’s using his free hand to shield his face from the blaring sun. 

“Daddy! I was in the middle of a monologue!”

Byron Holmes looks as disinterested as the tone of his voice. “Ella, you always talking. How am I supposed to know the difference?”

This time, it’s a dramatic gasp that's evoked instead of the previous one born from irritation. “I resent you saying that, father!”

“I’m sure you do, now do you want a hot dog or burger?”

Mariella might quite possibly be the most dramatic person to walk the earth, but the promise of one of her dad’s famous grilled burgers is too good to turn down. She can turn her strong feelings at being interrupted into a song at a later date and time.

Defeated, unable to overpower the desire for good food, she murmurs, “burger, please.”

“Thank you.” Byron Sr. shakes his head. Getting an answer from the prisoners is easier than getting one from his youngest sometimes. He then sets his gaze on her audience. “What about you girls?”

Promise Rose is the first to answer, that usual nervous smile on her face as she adjusts her thick rimmed glasses. “A hot dog, please, Mr. Holmes.”

Byron nods, committing her request to memory. He then turns to the other, already knowing what he’s in for. “Iris?”

Her hazel eyes that are obscured by the heavy set of eyeliner land on him with icy indifference. “I refuse to participate in the travesty and continued slaughter of the innocent just for the selfish pleasure and satisfaction of the greedy carnivorous species that occupies this stolen land.”

Byron releases a heavy sigh. It’s always something with this one. “Is that a yes or no, Iris?”

Iris lifts her chin, answering just as coldly, “I’ll just take the bread.”

Relieved and eager to be away from the only fourteen-year-old who could unnerve him, even with his twenty plus years as a prison warden, he walks away, mumbling to himself, “I swear something is wrong with that child….”

Returned to the previous topic at hand, Mariella plops down on the pool chaise across from her two best friends since third grade. “Now where were we before I was so rudely interrupted?”

“The inevitable extinction of mankind.”

“Surviving high school.”

Mariella rolls her eyes. It can so difficult sometimes to get her two polar opposite besties on the same page.

“We just have to make sure we do everything perfect.”

Promise Rose chews nervously on the corner of her lip and criss crosses her legs over each other. She looks between the two of them, anxiety growing by the second. “Ella is right. With BJ and Joe graduating this year, we’ve gotta make sure we elevate our social status or else we’re dead meat.”

Confused, Mariella asks, “what do you mean?” She then adds, “our social status is fine.”

Promise Rose looks over at an uninterested Iris. “Help here?”

“I refuse to subscribe to the patriarchy of social hierarchies.”

“Oh geez.” She should have known better. Iris refuses to get hip with anything if it’s not sticking a finger to the man. “Ella, it’s only because of your brother and Joe that we haven’t been bullied out of school. We are literally only semi-popular because of association. Without the guys, we’re nerds.”

Mariella would have preferred an actual dirty, jagged edge dagger be shoved into her chest. “We are not nerds!”

“Ella, you’re weird. I’m scared of everything. And Iris contemplates murder every hour on the hour.”

Iris shrugs, pushing her Kaleidoscope colored hair over her tanned shoulder. “Only on exceptionally bad days.”

“I rest my case.”

Mariella isn’t beyond consideration of alternative perspectives. She takes Promise Rose words to heart, trying her best to see it objectively.

She’s also not above admitting that having her brother and Joe look out for her over the years has only been beneficial. Even with them being out of middle school for almost four years now, their popularity has existed since damn near elementary school. Them and her twins sisters, Everly and Olivia, really. But especially Byron and Joe, mostly because of their standing as football players, two of the best on every team they’ve been on. Because of that, there’s not a soul in town who doesn’t know her as BJ’s little sister and Joe’s adopted little sister.

She’s always seen that as protecting her from guys messing with her but never associated it with social status.

And just as she’s undergoing a life changing realization, the creak of the side gate snatches her attention, revealing the two people who can clear all this up for her.

“BJ!”

Mariella untangles her legs from off the pool chair and jogs over to her brother and Joe.

“Damn, not even home for five minutes, and you already sweating me.”

Glaring, she shoves on his chest, muttering, “you’re such a dick sometimes.”

“Aye, watch your math. You too young to be cussing.”

She ignores him. With his 18th birthday right around the corner, Byron Jr., BJ as everyone calls him, has been on some weird power, superiority trip. 

Mariella redirects her focus to Joe, accepting his side hug. “Whassup, Ri.”

Mariella has a variety of nicknames. Her parents bounce back and forth between Mariella and Ella, mostly everyone else calls her Ella, but with Joe, she’s just Ri.

It’s kind of an unspoken rule that only he can call her that.

Joseph Anoa’i. 

Mariella can’t think of a time Joe wasn’t in her life. Not only does he and his equally large family live just a few doors down, he’s played football with BJ since they were six-years-old, before she was old enough to know what football even was. An almost quiet, level headed balance to her sometimes hot headed biological brother, Joe is Mariella’s big brother from another mother. Hes has always looked out for her just as much as BJ, if not more. 

He’s essentially been informally adopted by her family as BJ’s brother for life. 

“Hey, Joe.” Separating from him, she turns back toward the two of them. “Okay, I have a question, and it’s imperative you provide me with the raw, honest truth.”

Joe seems at least somewhat interested, but BJ is the one to make the smart comment. “Make it quick. I’m hungry. Practice was brutal.”

A brief brow lift from Joe is confirmation BJ isn’t exaggerating, so in a moment of rarity, Mariella bypasses all of the theatrics and skips right to the point. “Am I a nerd?”

Mariella expects contemplation, some level of astonishment that she could even fix her mouth to ask such a thing. Instead, she’s met with her brother shrugging with a simple, “of course, you are.”

Mouth ajar, hand to her chest, she asks, “what?”

“Come on, Ella, you know you’re kinda weird. Be talking to yourself and stuff.”

“It’s a sign of genius, thank you very much.”

“It’s a sign of weirdness.” She crosses her arms over her chest as a sign of unspoken protest. “If you wasn’t my little sister, I’d probably bully your nerdy ass.”

Completely done with the young man she once considered brother, Mariella looks over at Joe to see he’s on his phone. Probably texting his latest girlfriend of the week. Latisha, or something like that. He seems to cycle through girls faster than BJ. “Joe?”

He lifts his gaze from his phone, and Mariella readies to remind him of the initial question when he answers. “You’re just you, Ri. That’s all that matters.”

She’s not sure why she expected more. Joe can be of so few words at times. She just wishes this wasn’t one of those times. 

“While I do not agree with the expressed opinions, I appreciate the candor.” Chin lifted, she bids them farewell. “I will leave you be now.” Mariella can briefly overhear Joe saying something about Latisha, but it’s pushed away, outweighed by this new shocking piece of information.

In walking back over to her best friends and future members of her team when she’s a world famous singer, Mariella is unsurprised to find Promise Rose sitting on the edge of her seat while Iris simply glares at nothing and no one. 

Promise Rose is the first to speak, asking with all of the anxiety she carries on a daily basis. “Well?”

Mariella would love to lie to them, but these are her best friends. She could never do such a thing, even if the truth sucks more than the rumors of a pending B2K breakup. “You’re right.” Shoulders slumped, she groans loudly and throws herself back on the pool chair. “We’re dead meat.”

—-------

Present

You, you love it how I move you 

You love it how I touch you 

My one, when all is said and done 

You'll believe God is a woman

Watching her perform has always been an experience, a treat, a vision in some ways. The way she moves across the stage, so demanding, so in the moment, the eye contact and engagement with the crowd creating such an all-encompassing experience. 

On the stage, performing, is her element. It’s always been where she shines the most, and tonight is no different.

She’s up for a couple Grammys, already snagging two, as expected. He knows the ones she’s really anxious about are the coveted Album and Record of the Year. It’s something she’s always dreamed of achieving, and while there have been whispers that she’s a shoe in, Joe has known Mariella long enough to know that’s not enough.

It’ll only mean something to her when they’re in her hands.

And he’s confident they will be. She’s had yet another stellar, groundbreaking year, her album somehow doing better than her last. No one’s seeing numbers and sales like her. Her pen game is unmatched, not to mention her album is almost entirely written and produced by her, something unheard of these days.

She truly is an icon in the making. 

And the way she ends her performance with a standing ovation from some of music’s best is just more proof of how much she’s killing it.

Joe watches her walk backstage after nervously basking in such a response from people she’s looked up to her whole life.

She doesn’t return to her seat next to him, as expected. The final two categories are about to be announced, and he realizes it would be easier for her to remain backstage when her name is called. 

And the minute it is, he finds himself nodding with a small smile. He knew she could do it, knew that there was no way she could release such accomplished work and not leave with acknowledgment of such.

There’s an almost awkward but appropriate pause as the attendees stand and applaud, Mari suddenly rushing out from the back while holding her dress up. For a brief second, he thinks she’s gonna fall flat on her face. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She's a talented dancer, but the textbook definition of a klutz.

Always has been. 

But, she doesn’t. Thank God. He knows that’s something she would never let herself live down.

Seconds later, she’s at the mic, panicking, “oh my god!” Her breathing is uneven, and he can bet it’s because she was in the back wearing a hole in the floor with her nervous pacing. “I’m sorry, I was in the back having a panic attack.” That might not be entirely untrue. “And also, my dress is not dressing for some reason, so I’m just gonna awkwardly hold this up to avoid flashing anyone and getting sued by the FCC.” He shakes his head. Even with all the fame, she’s remained the same. “Okay, but seriously, this is insane? Ummm, thank you! I don’t— have no idea what to say. God is so good. My mama would kill me if I didn’t say that. Ooh, I want to thank my parents, of course! My big brother and two older sisters for always putting up with me singing and dancing all over the house.” Always isn’t an exaggeration. Joe can’t recall a time where he walked into the Holmes adobe and wasn’t met with or overheard Mariella working on some aspect of her craft, whether that was writing, creating beats, learning a new dance. She’s always been so focused on getting exactly where she is now.

She continues to thank her team, rushing through the litany of individuals she attributes to helping her stand where she does with the awards that she’s been awarded this night. And when he doesn’t hear his name included, he knows right away she’s in a relatively good mood, willing to play up their Oscar worthy performance.

“And lastly, to my amazing husband,” her eyes search the room, finally landing on him. “Joe, you are my best friend and my biggest supporter. I love you so much. Thank you for always being in my corner and putting up with all of my crackhead energy.” Her eyes are teary, but he has no doubt she’s pulling from the emotion at crossing off yet another box from so long ago versus feeling so moved by her inauthentic words. 

But again, he follows along with this song and dance they’ve mastered at this point, mouthing once again that he loves her too.

The music begins to play indicating that she’s maxed out her time, and he hears her quickly throw out, “I’m not on crack, by the way!” before she walks off the stage, ushered by Pharrell and Diane Warren.

Theres’s something both treasured and uncomfortable about those words leaving her mouth. They’re so freely used these days. By both of them. But the meaning and impact behind them is long gone, some place in the past where demons and skeletons lie, often tampered with but never fully addressed.

It now just leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

—-------

“I have a show on the 13th you need to be at.”

Joe is sitting on the edge of the bed, undoing his tie, focused on the balcony doors across from him instead of to his right where she sits at her vanity, removing her jewelry. 

“What?” He doesn’t need to be looking at her to know she’s angled toward him, face turned up in disgust. “Of March?”

There’s no need for a wordy answer. “Yeah.”

“I can’t.” Mari has made it a goal of hers to stay on top of her calendar as she prepares to enter the next era of her career. With the Grammy’s now over, the end of this award season is upon her, and preparation for her next album is underway. It’s why she knows and communicates in the moment of the scheduling conflict. “I have a meeting with my label to start discussing my next album.”

Joe can’t deny the fact that he half-expected her to come up with some excuse, some reason as to why she yet again can’t do her part of this joint collab of theirs. “Can’t you move it?”

“Why should I have to move my stuff around for you?” Mari can count a variety of times where she’s done so before, but that was then. This is now. They’re miles away from where they once were, and she’s not willing to inconvenience herself for him.

Not anymore. 

Meanwhile, Joe doesn’t understand why everything that’s inherently so simple has to be made so fucking complex. It’s never a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with her. “You can tell Jax if a date doesn’t work for you. I can’t do that shit with Paul.” And she knows that. Mariella is well aware of how the WWE works. Dates are set in stone months in advance, years in advance sometimes for PPV’s. She’s just being difficult for no damn reason.

As per usual. 

In a perfect world, Mariella would be celebrating right now, would be in attendance at the prestigious Grammy’s After-Party celebrating her major accomplishments. Instead, she sits in the room with a man who seems hellbent on stealing her joy in any way he can these days.

It makes her sick. 

She’s fully turned toward him, even as he refuses to look her way. Intentional, of course. He knows how big she is on eye contact. “I did that the last time I went to a taping, Joe. I’m not gonna keep doing it.”

He glances at her, and she instantly knows he’s not backing down, not willing to let this lie. She knows she’s in for another pow-wow. A signature finish for most outings these days. “But, I can show up for you?”

“Don’t do that. Don’t act like this isn’t as beneficial for you as it is for me.” One thing she won’t put up with is him acting like their arrangement isn’t just as great for his career as it is for hers. The press and fans of both of them eat up any type of public appearance, especially when he plays the role of the loving, supportive husband who wants to celebrate his wife’s big wins with her. “And you know how busy I am after award season.”

He knows that’s typically when she gets back in the kitchen to start cooking up her next album, where she locks herself in the studio for hours on end writing, producing, escaping.

“And WrestleMania season isn’t for me?”

Truth be told, she’d briefly forgotten about that, forgotten that the biggest night of his career is only two months away. A small part of her hates that. Hates how far they are from where they once were. There was once a time where she had every single event committed to memory, would bend over backwards to attend as many of his shows that she could.

Now, she couldn’t give two shits. 

The same way he feels about her.

“I don’t know why you care so much.” She turns back to the mirror to safely remove her diamonds. They’ll need to be returned tomorrow to the designer, and the last thing she wants is to drop or lose something because of his ass. “You got your little whores there anyway. What do you need me for?”

It’s a petty but truthful jab. Mariella knows good and well that her showing up to one of his tapings after he attended the Grammys with her will be ate up by their fans. It’s good press. Great, even. 

But the thought of sitting there, with the full, painful, embarrassing knowledge that the women behind the scenes, the women who are hidden behind NDA’s and WWE hush money, see her for the fraud she is. Know that Joe will end up fucking them when the night is over and returning home to her with the scent of their cheap perfume and not an ounce of regret.

It almost makes her stomach turn. 

He chuckles, and that’s what makes her gaze snap back onto him. She hates when he does this, when he makes it seem like shit is funny. There’s nothing comical about this tragedy. ��Did I say something funny?”

“Forget it.” And now he’s dismissive, trying to shut down an argument that he started. “You don’t fucking listen anyway.”

“Are you serious right now?” Mari’s eyes go wide as she stands up, finally rid of six figure jewelry but basked in growing rage. “I don’t listen? Joe, you don’t listen! You never listen! You haven’t in years.”

Joe feeds off her energy, the quiet anger he’s usually well adept at concealing bubbling its way to the surface. No one’s ever been able to get him riled up like she does. “Naw, you not gon’ do that. Make it seem like this is on me. You do what you want and then expect me to just be okay with shit.”

“Wow. This is rich. Absolutely rich.” Mari can only laugh, because this part is funny. It’s hilarious. His lack of insight is astounding. “You are the most selfish bastard I have ever met.”

“Here it is.” He’s now standing as well, hulking body angled towards her, towering over her even with her designer heels. He motions with his hand for her to continue, to go on with the victim narrative she loves to clothe herself in. “Keep going. Tell me all this shit you already know about me, how awful I am—”

“Because you are!”

Something about the intensity in her voice sends him, makes him snap back easily. “And you’re a fucking saint?” His volume is also rising, which he hates. He never allows anyone to have access to that button, to know what to press and how to press it to get him this worked up. “You don’t never do shit wrong?”

Mariella feels her anger intensify as he turns to walk away from her. She’s hot on his heels, following him into the bathroom. “God, you always do this! You always put it back on me. It’s never your fault. Always mine!”

“And this is what I’m saying.” He has his big hands planted on the bathroom counter, looking at her through the large, mounted mirror. “You’re not even hearing what I’m saying. Always so fucking defensive. I’m not the one who don’t listen, Mari! You are!”

She can’t deny there have been a number of occasions where she’s jumped into defensive mode sooner than what’s necessary. Mariella isn’t above acknowledging that. But for him to make it seem like it’s not for a good reason, if not for his role is something she won’t stand for. “So what if I am defensive, huh? Who made me this way? You did, you bastard!”

“Just stop fucking’ talking, alright?” He’s pulling his suit jacket off, tone a mixture of defeat and exhaustion. Emotional or physical, she’s not sure. She knows she certainly feels both. “I don’t wanna hear this shit anymore.”

“And now here you go, always walking away, always taking the easy way out.” Because this is his MO. He loves to accuse and gaslight, and the minute she calls him out on his hypocrisy, he wants to shut everything down. It’s infuriating.

“Fine!” He slams his fists down on the same granite counter Mariella still remembers him once making out with her on, a starting point that ended with him carrying her to their once shared bed where he would make love to her throughout the night. Such a far away, almost unfamiliar time. “You want to sit here and continue yelling, be my fucking guest. I’m not saying shit though!”

“There you go again with more avoidance. God, you’re so predictable! Shit gets too hard, you shut down. You run away.”

“Don’t fucking act like you ever want to talk about shit with me—”

“Don’t tell me what I want, Joe. You don’t know what I want, okay? You don’t know anything about me anymore!”

“And whose fault is that, Mariella, huh? You don’t tell me shit! You never tell me shit!”

“Why should I? You don’t deserve to know shit about me anymore!” It’s more emotions than anything that fuels her to add on the accusatory, “It’s not like you care in the first damn place!” It also has to be the emotions that have her eyes watering, because it’s been forever and a day since an argument between them—and there have been plenty—has made her feel anything other than anger.

This is different.

This is sadness.

 Mariella watches as Joe punches the adjacent wall, the action taking her by surprise and making her jump back from said shock. “What do you want me to say, huh?” It’s been years since she’s seen him this upset. “No matter what I fucking say, what I fucking do, nothing’s ever right, so what’s the goddamn point!” With almost desperation, he shouts, “what the hell do you want from me!”

“I want you to love me again!” She snaps with a burst of visceral emotions. His anger simmers instantaneously. Joe knows that was the last thing she wanted to say, the deep down secret she’s worked hard to keep hidden and tucked away suddenly laid out in the open for all to see. The devastation on her face gives it away as she says more to herself than him in an equally devastated tone, “but that’s gone, isn't it? Everything we had…..everything we were…..is gone.”

An eerie silence settles over them. Joe closes his eyes and does his best to regulate his conflicting emotions. Everything is felt at once. So strong, so confusing, so pressing. That was the last thing he expected to hear from her, the same way the last thing he expected to feel at said words is longing. It’s so unfamiliar and confusing. She has so much power over him. To evoke such strong emotions with just a single sentence. To make him suddenly battle with the array of feelings he’s felt toward and about her at any given point in all of the many years they’ve known each other.

It’s just a fucking mess.

But then, the focus isn’t on his emotions anymore. It’s on the quiet sniffling he hears that makes him close his eyes. Joe instantly feels something different, something similar yet almost stronger than guilt.

She’s still standing at the doorway, but her hands are covering her face, failing to hide what is both visible and audible. 

Tears. 

She’s crying.

Something else unfamiliar settles over him, something almost nostalgic, that once upon a time uncomfortable plethora of emotions he’d find himself battling whenever he saw she was upset.

It never sat right with him to see her cry. 

His tone immediately shifts to something significantly calmer. “Mari….”

“I’m just tired, Joe. I’m so so…..tired.” And it’s with an almost whisper into the enclosed palm of her hands that she grabs the nail for the coffin. “And I don’t want to do this anymore.”

He’s dangerously still, rendered almost physically unable to move. The air around them is suddenly so much more noticeable, heavier, weightier, debilitating. 

She lifts her head, revealing a tear stained, distraught expression that makes him almost as equally distraught. “I don’t want to live like this anymore, Joe. I’m not happy. You’re not happy.” Each word leaving her mouth chips away his anger and replaces it with something unidentifiable. “It’s obvious you don’t love me anymore, and that’s—” Her throat catches as she forces herself to continue. “—that’s okay. Our careers are stable enough to where we don’t have to keep up this facade anymore.”

“Mariella—”

“I want a divorce.”

For some reason, there’s always been this belief system that any argument between them is just a part, a part that’s followed up with another one, then another, and then another. But, it never dawned on him that a single part could be the final part.

The final straw.

“Mariella, we—”

He’s stepping toward her, and she’s instantly stepping back, lifting her arms. She doesn’t want him near her, doesn’t want him touching her. It’s a sting, that’s for sure. 

“Don’t.” And he won’t. Won’t cross her boundaries even if everything in him is screaming to do so, to bypass her wishes that are being fueled by something temporary. Something that will fade by the time morning rolls around. “Just….don’t.”

She’s wiping at her eyes and mutters, “I need some air.”

He doesn’t like seeing her walk away in this manner, doesn’t like ending on this point. It’s one thing to leave off with the promise of another chapter, but it’s an entirely different thing to know that what could follow is the back cover without the anticipation for a sequel.

But, he says nothing. 

Does nothing.

He just lets her leave.

—-------

2007 

The phone ringing less than ten minutes after Joe plopped his big body in the bed was the last thing he expected and needed. Coach put them through hell today, and he’d completely forgotten about an assignment due the next day, so he’d forced himself to power through his physical exhaustion to get it submitted. 

Unlike a lot of his teammates, Joe does care about his academics as much as he cares about football. He recognizes it’s important to have something to fall back on. And as a senior, he’s really at the point where failure just isn’t an option.

He’s come too far now for that shit. 

When the phone rings a second time, he realizes it might be worth answering, even if everything in his body wants him to let it ring 18 times if that’s what it takes for the caller to get the message.

Not even bothering to check who it is, Joe grabs his cell and hits the green button. “Yeah?”

He’s met with soft sniffling followed up with a quiet, “it’s me.”

At that, Joe sits up in his bed, all attention on the person on the other end. “Ri?” He’s wide awake now. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry to call so late—”

“What’s wrong?” He doesn’t care about that anymore, just wants to know what happened to make her phone him at such a time. To phone him crying, at that. That’s the part that makes him concerned.

He can’t remember the last time he’s seen or heard her do that.

He hears shuffling on the other end as she chokes out, “can you—can you come get me?”

It’s not even a question. “Send me your location. I’m on my way.”

—--

Joe nearly knocks down the damn mailbox in front of the frat house with how quickly he pulls up, his truck coming to an abrupt sudden stop. He’s barely got the truck shut off when he’s ripping the door open and jogging up the path to the house of entitled, elitist pricks who get off on the misery of others.

But, he’s more focused on Mariella who meets him halfway on the path of said house, arms wrapped around her body. 

He’s assessing her from head to toe, using the dim streetlight as a guide in the stark darkness of the night. “What happened?” Realizing she’s still hugging himself, Joe’s blood goes cold. “Did he touch you?” And when she doesn’t say anything right away, he’s trying to move past her, murder on his mind. “I’ll fucking kill him—”

“No.” Her hand is on his chest, restraining him as much as she can. The truth is that it would be nothing for him to carefully move her to the side and beat the living shit out of her asshole of a boyfriend who he’s never liked from day one. “He didn’t.”

Joe doesn’t put it past her to try to say what she thinks he wants to hear. “Ri, don’t lie to me.”

“I promise. He didn’t. We just—” and the emotion rises back up, making her pause as she pleads with him. “Can we just go? Please?”

Joe knows why she called him and not Byron. Because Joe nods and guides her to his truck without further protest. Byron would have beat Damien first and maybe or maybe not asked questions later for the mere fact that he made his baby sister cry. 

The ride back to his dorm is silent, and it’s not until they are sitting outside on the steps of Joe’s residence hall that he asks again, much calmer, still as curious, “what happened, Ri?”

It takes a few minutes for her to start talking, and while he does his best to be patient, it’s also really fucking hard to not just bypass the conversation and go straight back to the original plan of murder.

“We were—we were messing around.” Instantly, Joe’s anger suddenly shifts to disgust. While he recognizes his best friend’s little sister isn’t so little anymore, eighteen and a college freshman, she’ll always be that goofy, klutzy, theatrical kid who was always trying to hang out with him and Byron. So, hearing about her messing around is the last thing he wants, but he also doesn’t want to interrupt and allows her to continue. “He wanted to have sex, but I—I told him no.” And before the murder plan can be revived, she clarifies. “And he stopped, but then we started arguing, and he—he told me he was tired of waiting, but I said I’m not changing my mind and….and he broke up with me.”

In some strange sort of way, Joe is more relieved than anything, mostly at the fact that nothing physical happened. It sucks, and he hates seeing her upset, but it’s really a blessing in disguise. Even if she doesn’t see it yet.

Still, he’s sympathetic. “I’m sorry, Ri.”

She sniffles again, wiping at her eyes. “I really liked him and—and I thought he liked me.” 

Joe wants so badly to tell her that Damien never liked her. He liked that she was a virgin. 

Mariella had made the cardinal mistake of sharing with her ex that she was still a virgin, something the bastard, like Damien, thought he could change. When that didn’t happen and a breakup followed, that same asshole took it upon himself to share her virgin status with several friends, several teammates. And it’s become a bit of a contest almost among the basketball team, to see who can take it from her first.

It’s fucking disgusting and makes him sick, but it’s also the culture of college athletes. 

Some, at least. 

“He’s an idiot, Ri.” This is said both because it’s true but also because he just wants her to feel better, to not feel like she lost out on some prize. If anything, she dodged a bullet. 

“Maybe I’m the idiot.” She shakes her head and shrugs. “Cause I keep finding myself in the same situation.”

He’d like to call it an exaggeration, but Joe also knows that this has been an issue in almost all of her relationships for the past few years. Less an issue and more a deal breaker. Sex is something that’s deeply personal and important to her, and he’s happy she’s that way, that she isn’t just sleeping around with anyone. Especially since she seems to have a penchant for athletes. 

They can be the worst.

He would know.

“Athletes can be hoes, Ri. That has nothing to do with you.”

“You and B aren’t like that.” She then corrects with an ounce of her usual sense of humor. “I mean, you guys are hoes, but you’re nice hoes.”

He laughs. That’s a bit of the Mariella he’s used to. “True, but maybe we’re the exception.” He then takes a deep breath, speaking to her from the heart. “I’m not really sure, but what I do know is that Damien was an asshole who never deserved you in the first place. You’re better off without him.”

It’s the god’s honest truth. Ri is like his little sister, and it pained him to see her give someone like Damien the time of day, but he also respects that while he still sees her as a little kid, she isn’t. She’s a legal adult capable of making her own decisions, and he respects that.

“He had pretty eyes though.” Joe gives her a look, and for the first time, she actually, truly laughs. It’s music to his ears. “What? If I don’t laugh, I’ll just keep crying.” Her eyes light up with something other than sadness, and he watches her pull out her phone, suddenly typing away.

He doesn’t even need to ask. He’s seen this before. She’s inspired and is getting out the lyrics before they escape her. And a few minutes later, she reads to him what she’s come up with.

If I don't laugh, I'm gonna cry 

Don't wanna hear your name tonight 

I'm finally happy, not in the mood 

I don't wanna think about you

“I like it.” It’s the truth. He likes most of what she writes, outside of the shit that’s way too girly for his musical preference.

She offers him that brilliant smile, eyes twinkling with something similar to appreciation. Mariella grabs his bicep, laying her head against his shoulder. “Thanks, Joe.”

He looks down at her. “I’ve always got your back, Mariella.” And that’s a promise. “Always.”

—-------

“Mariella, this is fucking ridiculous.” Joe pulls the phone away from his face to get a specific, accurate time. “It’s almost 3 o’clock in the damn morning. Get home now before something happens to your ass.”

He then quickly jabs the red end button. It’s an unkind voicemail message to leave, but also one of several he’s left over the past two hours. The first was a lot more understanding, almost apologetic. Now he’s just fucking annoyed, because she said she needed air. He figured she’d go sit outside, on the patio, maybe even sit poolside. 

Not for her to take off for a late night car ride without telling him anything. It’s something she used to do once upon a time, when they were both broke nobodies trying to keep the dream alive. 

Such a far off, distant memory. 

Joe wishes he didn’t care. Wishes he could head to bed and let her be in her feelings. He’s got an afternoon flight out to a taping and needs to be at the airport by 10am. At this rate, he’s not going to get any quality sleep, and that shit annoys him to no end because he likes to be well rested for work. Especially in his line of work. 

Sleep deprivation can make a wrestler more prone to unnecessary injuries. 

Still, he also knows that even if he were to try to get some sleep, he’d twist and turn the whole night. He’s never been able to sleep well until she was home and safe.

But, she’s not, and that shit just pisses him off all over again. He grabs his phone, ready for yet another call to go straight to voicemail when it lights up, generic ringtone filling the sizable kitchen. He doesn’t even bother checking the caller, just hits the green button and jumps right into questioning. 

“Where the hell are you?” At this point, he’ll go pick her up his damn self just to see her two feet planted in their LA mansion. “This isn’t—”

“I’m sorry—” Joe is the one who’s sorry because that certainly isn’t Mariella. Confused, he pulls the phone away from his ear again to see that it’s an unfamiliar local number. Bringing it back so he can ask who the hell this is, the caller beats him to it. “I’m looking for Joe Anoa’i.”

The woman’s voice is professional, but there’s also a hesitation there. A hint of emotionality almost. 

Frowning, he answers, gruffly, “This is Joe.” He’s quick with the follow up. “Who is this?”

“My name is Leslie Owens, and I’m an officer with the Los Angeles Police Department.” And just like that, Joe knows his entire world is about to be flipped upside down. “I’m sorry to inform you, but your wife has been involved in a car accident….”

—-------

2013 

“Just a couple more steps….”

“Ri, this is stupid. I’m gonna open my eyes.”

He can hear her dramatic gasp as she squeezes his hand. “Don’t you dare ruin this moment for us, sir!”

“The moment’s gonna be really ruined if your accident prone ass makes me fall down these damn steps.”

“I’ll have you know that I’m only accident prone when it comes to myself. Not others.” She sounds so proud of this fact too. “Thank you very much.”

She makes him smile, but that’s a given. There’s always an immense amount of joy and contentment when he’s around her. Her positivity, while excessive at times, is calming. Always has been. 

He’s happy when he’s at least done with the steps and on a leveled surface. Recovery from face planting on pavement has to be easier than a tumble down three flights of steps.

That reminds him. “This place doesn’t have an elevator?”

She’s quick with the answer followed by the jangling of keys. “Naw. That was the other place, but it was out of our budget.”

He says nothing. It seems like a lot is out of their budget these days.

Joe can hear her insert the key as well as the turn of the door knob and subsequent creaking of a door. She’s pulling him forward and he naturally steps over the mantle that she surely would have let him trip over because of her obliviousness in the moment. 

It’s when she drops his hand that he knows the end of this unnecessary dramatic introduction to seeing the apartment for the first time is nearing an end. 

“And…..open!”

Joe doesn’t need to be told twice.

The first thing he sees is her beautiful smile as she stands before him with her arms stretched up and in a ‘v.’ “Welcome to our first place together as husband and wife!”

Looking around, it’s clear as day that Mariella is probably the nicest thing in his line of vision. It’s not a bad looking apartment, at all, just plain and clearly in need of some modernizing updates/renovations. 

He can tell she’s tried to make it a little more homey with the rug and curtains, as well as family photos, but it’s still a far cry from the kind of place he’d love for them to call home.

“It’s….something.”

Mariella rolls her eyes. “I mean, it’s not the Hilton, but it’s ours, and that’s all that matters.” She moves over to him, reaching to wrap her arms around his neck. His hands plant on her hips, holding her to him. “Sure, the balcony is basically a ledge, and our view is of a park, so it gets loud sometimes, and I may or may not have witnessed a crime the other day……hope he’s alright.” Her brows cave together in brief confusion before she shrugs and back to smiling like they just won a million dollars. “But that’s besides the point because every couple has their struggle origin story. This is just ours for now.”

He’ll be happy when they’re out of this chapter of said story. This is one of those times he somewhat wishes he waited to marry her until they were both in better financial places. More him than her. She deserves so much better than this. She deserves the world, and he’s going to give it to her one day. 

He just prays that day is sooner rather than later.

“Hey.” He looks down and refocuses his attention on her. “As long as I have you….I’m good.” She moves to lay her head against his chest, murmuring, “I love you, and you love me. That’s all I’ll ever need.” And in true Ri fashion, she gasps and pulls away, looking up with almost childlike excitement. “I almost forgot!”

In many years of knowing Mariella, Joe has learned it’s always best to just let her do her thing and see what happens versus trying to navigate the eccentric workings of her chaotic mind.

So he watches silently as she rushes over to the counter to dig through her purse and pulls out her phone. She does that rapid tapping and sliding of her fingers that she does when in a self assigned rush. Less than a minute later, he’s hit with an all too familiar opening piano followed by even more familiar lyrics.

It's undeniable

That we should be together

It's unbelievable

How I used to say, that I'd fall never

Joe smiles as she moves her way back over to him, reaching for his hand. “Our wedding first dance song to christen our first place together. We have to dance. It’s literally in the marriage rule book.”

He chuckles. “Oh, really?” 

“Duh.” She gasps and bites down on her bottom lip when he quickly yanks her toward him. Joe’s hand is on the small of her back as hers move up his check, locking behind his neck. “See….not so bad after all?”

He dances with her, but his attention is focused less on the music, even the dancing and just her. “Anything’s better if you’re there.” She beams up at him and giggles as he spins her so that her back lands against his chin. His head dips into her neck, as she places her hands on his forearms.

He’s taking her in, enjoying this moment with her when she says leadingly, “you know there’s another first we haven’t done yet to christen our place…..”

Joe makes a sound and presses a kiss to the side of her neck. “Hmm. And what is that?”

He can only imagine the way her cheeks must be tinged red as she answers almost as if she doesn’t want anyone to overhear. “That thing you’re really good at.” He smiles against her skin and holds her tighter. “I especially like when you do that one thing with your tongue and—Joe!” Too much talk, not enough clothes being taken off. He doesn’t hesitate to lift her over his shoulder, eager to show her just how much he also likes to do that ‘one thing’ with his tongue.

—-------

Present 

Two weeks.

Two weeks since he’s seen her big, beautiful smile.

Two weeks since he’s heard that infectious laugh.

Two weeks since he’s heard her voice.

Two weeks since the night that changed everything, the night that some idiot decided to drive drunk and crashed into her vehicle head on. 

Two weeks since she was airlifted to a Level 1 trauma center where her injuries were so severe that they immediately took her into surgery that saved her life in one way but couldn’t in another.

Because she has yet to wake up from the initial accident. 

Because it’s been two weeks since Mariella slipped into a coma. 

It’s been two weeks of that cruel waiting game, that slight smudge of hope that rises where the doctor comes in with just as much desire it’ll be a different prognosis only for the same thing to leave his mouth every time with that same disappointed expression.

“We just have to continue to wait.”

Joe isn’t sure he’s ever hated a saying more than he now hates that one.

Just like her mom and other family members, he's been at the hospital every day, just sitting for hours at her bedside, holding her hand that’s much colder than he’s used to. Than it should be. 

The room is silent, a type of silence he’s unused to. There’s never silence when Mariella is around. She’s always talking, always smiling, always laughing.

But not anymore.

Now she just lays there, unconscious, Joe praying more than he ever has in his entire life that he gets to see her pretty eyes yet again, hear her beautiful voice scream at him, sing to him, laugh at him, anything.

He just needs her.

The love and support from her fans has been astounding yet expected. She’s America’s Sweetheart. Music’s new queen. Everyone loves her. She’s received an endless amount of support, kind words, prayers, and well wishes from both fellow artists and fans. Though the fans seemed to have done the most. Even holding several vigils outside the hospital. And though he’s still pissed that piece of information got leaked, he knows she would be so moved by the love. 

Joe wasn’t entirely in agreement with sharing Mariella’s coma status with the world, but it was the decision that was eventually settled on by Iris, her manager, and the rest of her team with the family’s eventual blessing.

The specifics regarding her injuries, however, have remained confidential, and for that, he’s grateful.

He’s sitting on the side of the bed yet again, taking over the shift from April, Mariella’s mom, whose devastated expression hasn’t changed from the minute he had to tell her and the rest of her family what happened to now, as they all wait with all of the hopes and prayers in the world for the prognosis to change.

“This is the longest I’ve ever gone without hearing your voice.” Just saying it aloud feels strange, wrong even. That he gets to sit here and talk while she lays there, plugged up to a million machines, deprived of even that basic right. “I never knew I could miss something so much until now.”

And it’s the truth. 

Realizing his NFL dreams weren’t going to become a reality was devastating, but this….this is another level of hell.

“You said…you said you want me to love you again, but….but I can’t do that, Ri.” His hand is over hers, thumb rubbing the skin that’s not covered by the IV and large bandage. “I can’t do it again because I never stopped loving you in the first place.”

It’s a disgusting, pathetic feeling. To know that the words he should have said to her when everything first started falling apart can only leave his mouth after something like this occurs. After he’s so brutally reminded of the fragility of life and the importance of telling people how you feel when they’re still around.

There’s so much he needs to tell her, so much he needs to clear up, so much he needs her to tell him.

She deserves clarification.

He deserves answers.

Joe just prays he gets the chance for that to happen. 

It’s nearly seconds after that thought crosses his mind that he feels movement under his hand. His eyes snap up to see the one thing he’s prayed for every day for the past two weeks, the one thing he deep down was scared he would never see.

Mari’s brown eyes. Glossed and confused as all the outdoors, he sees them darting all around the room and feels her trying to move her hand. 

He’s not sure he’s even breathing anymore. “Ri?” It’s as she continues to blink and try to move her head that he realizes this isn’t some cruel hallucination. She’s awake.

Mariella is awake.

When the shock wears off, he all but runs to the door, ripping it open as he calls for the doctor, the nurse, any medical professional available to tend to her. 

Joe is right on the doctor’s heels as he moves quickly to her bedside, digging for something out of his white coat pocket. Joe moves to the other side of her bed, closely observing any and all interactions of both. 

“Mariella, I’m Dr. Reynolds, and I’ve been overseeing your care here.” Joe then looks back at his wife who seems more awake by the second but still with her mouth turned downward, like she’s lost at what’s happening. 

Mariella squints when the doctor shines the light in her eyes, wincing almost, and Joe has to catch himself from telling the doctor to be careful. 

“Do you remember what happened?” Dr. Reynolds asks, and Joe watches closely as she looks at him with the same level of confusion. “Can you tell me what year it is?”

His stomach drops when she shakes her head no.

“You were in a car accident.” The doctor’s voice takes on a different tone, something not as optimistic, more….ominous. “Can you give me your full name?”

Again, a slow shake of the head to answer no.

Joe goes to ask the doctor what’s going on, if this is some side effect that people can have when waking up from a coma, but the man is pointing in Joe’s direction as he asks a final question. “Do you know who this is?”

And it’s then, as she shakes her head ‘no’ yet again that Joe realizes what’s happening. A new kind of ruination overcomes him, making his throat suddenly feel almost as heavy as his heart.

It’s a heartbreaking realization that he has to say aloud because it feels almost too unreal to be true. 

“Her memories are gone….”

[scififettuccine]

A Wild Fix: Part 1.5?

Pairing: Platonic!Butcher x Supe!Reader

Summary: 3 weeks into your alliance with The Boys, you and Butcher go through the Vought Database. Butcher being curious about a Supe he's never heard of leads him to put together a plan that's less than safe. But does he listen to your warnings? Of course not.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Exposition, mentions of casinos, mention of suicide

Notes: Hey ya'll! Long time no see! You're probably wondering what the fuck this is. As you may have noticed I haven't posted anything in a few days. This is because when I got into writing Part 2, it became A LOT more complex and involved than I intended, including new characters and a sharp left turn in the story line that I didn't plan. Considering the results from the pole, I figured no one would really be mad if I did this. Part 1.5 is A LOT of exposition, setting up the actual second installment of the series. I could have made Part 2 longer, but it was way past how many words I wanted to have in each installment. I didn't want to call this an actual part two, because this alone isn't long enough to qualify as its own part, so...✨1.5✨ As you can most likely tell, I'm not following the canon plot exactly, I find that to be EXTREMELY boring. I know it's something that some people don't love, but at the end of the day it's creative writing and I enjoy doing it. Here is a link to Part 1 if you missed it! The official part 2 of A Wild Fix will be out very soon, but for now, enjoy this expositional interlude from our good lad, William Butcher.

It was safe to say that, since your first meeting? You and Frenchie didn’t get along very well. You had been running with The Boys for almost a month now, yet the two of you couldn’t agree on a single thing. But honestly? That didn't really matter to you. He didn't seem like the kind of person you wanted to be close with, anyway.

You had adjusted pretty well to this double standard of life, working for Vought, and working with The Boys. You were very careful, and there hadn’t been any close calls…yet. As for adjusting to the basement hideout? That didn't necessarily get any easier. You had carved out a little spot for yourself in one of the less occupied corners, just big enough to set your computer down, and maybe put a cup of coffee off to the side. And at the moment, that's where you sat. Working out time to help out wasn’t very hard. You were a member of The Seven, yes, but due to your powers, you were more of an alternate. You still went to meetings, and you still lived in the tower, you just weren't sent out as much. Butcher had requested that you dig into a few things for him in the Vought database. The Vought database had become available to you since you signed the contract with the company. It didn’t contain anything majorly world shattering, just some more detailed info on every Supe that had ever been involved with the company, including deceased, and currently active Supes. The info pages almost reminded you of trading cards, you laughed to yourself at the thought. It almost made you wonder why Vought hadn’t cashed in on some sort of trading card game.

“Something funny, love?” Butcher asked. You could see him approaching from behind in the reflection of your laptop screen.

“Yeah, actually…” You said, beckoning him over. Butcher crouched down next to your chair, looking at the computer screen. “Don’t those stats kinda look like trading cards? I mean, even the way it’s set up. Surprised Vought hasn’t cashed in on that yet.” Butcher raised a brow and leaned a bit closer to the screen, letting out a small ‘hmph’ sound. 

“You’re not wrong.” He examined the screen for a moment. “So you can see every Supe that's ever been involved with the company?” You nodded.

“For the most part, yes. But usually if there's anything they need to hide, the Supe goes to whoever runs the database and asks for that piece of information to be taken off of it. It’s actually in the contract somewhere, in the fine print, if I remember.” Butcher gave a small hum of acknowledgement.

“So if I had to guess, Homelander doesn't even have a file?” He asked. You narrowed your eyes towards the screen as you clicked out of the file you were on, and searched Homelander’s name in the top bar. When the file came up, you clicked it. Low and behold…? Not much. Just his in-company stats, The Seven logo, showing his affiliation with the group, and the year he had been signed onto the company. 

“Yeah…nothing much. Most of The Seven are like this, actually. If I remember correctly…” You clicked out of Homelander’s file, and clicked on the search bar again. You went to type in ‘Maeve,’ but Butcher stopped you, placing his finger over one of the file cards on the screen.

“Who’s that bloke?” He asked. You raised a brow and moved his finger out of the way. He had been pointing to a file card for the Supe named Mixer, who belonged to a new Vought owned Supe team that had been gaining steam recently…Residency. Vought had always sort of branded it as the new age Payback, but it was more of a marketing thing. The Supes on the team were legit, powerful, and some of them popular…But it definitely wasn't anything close to Payback. Mixer, admittedly, was one of the more known Supe’s on the team. He had been a musician first, gaining popularity from his young start in the industry. And as soon as Vought could get its bloodstained hands on the poor guy? He was signed on. Now? He had a residency at Planet Vought Casino & Resort in Las Vegas, and a spot in Residency.

“That's Mixer. He’s around my age, I think…Super popular in the music industry.” You explained, clicking on his file card.

“You know’im?” He asked. You shook your head as you scrolled through his file. 

“I met him at a convention a few years back, around this time of year actually…He seemed kinda full of himself. He has a residency now, though, kinda ironic, at Vought’s casino in Las Vegas.” You explained. Butcher nodded, clearly thinking.

“How is it ironic?” He asked.

“Mixer is part of a Supe team too, but the team is called Residency. So I thought it was kinda funny that he had an actual residency-” Butcher cut you off.

“Another Supe team? Owned by Vought?” You nodded.

“Yeah. It's him, Klepto, Bloodshot, Laugh Track, Void-” Butcher cut you off again, before you could even finish naming the members.

“The convention you met him at…Was it a Supe convention?” 

“Yeah. But not like the crazy fan ones. It's by invite only. All of Voughts Supes go, it’s a huge event. They invite new, upcoming Supes, and Vought investors. It’s a 3 day affair. They usually hold it at the Casino location that's here in the city, though, not the one in Vegas.” You turned your head to look at him, narrowing your eyes. What was he thinking?

“You said it was around this time of year?” He asked, turning the laptop towards himself so he could scroll.

“Yeah, usually towards the middle of fall…Why do you ask?” You raised a brow.

“I’m assuming you're invited?” He asked, the smirk on his face growing.

“Yeah, like I said, most contracted Supes are there. Annie is going too, we kinda have to…You’re not thinking what I think you are…right?” You asked, narrowing your eyes once again.

“That's exactly what I’m thinking, love.” He chuckled and stood up. “A whole casino full of Supes and Vought officials? That's practically an information gold mine. And with your connections? We’re bound to uncover something. Do you get a plus one or anythin like’at?”

“I’m pretty sure contracted Supes get two guest passes, but this is out of the question, Butcher. Digging at a Vought run Supe convention? It’s suicide for anyone involved.” You said, closing your computer. This wasn't a good idea, not even in the slightest.

“So if both you and Hughie’s girl go, that's four guest passes between the two of you?” He asked.

“Yes but-” Butcher cut you off before you could protest.

“Just enough passes for Hughie, MM, Frenchie, and meself. It’s settled, then, love.” Butcher gave a smug smile and patted your shoulder. You cringed internally. Butcher wouldn’t take no for an answer…and you didn’t favor the idea of being on his bad side.

 If you were caught, no, if any of you were caught snooping around at this convention? You’d be dead before you could leave the building…or worse.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And that's the end of my exposition bomb. Again, Part 2 is coming very soon, and I'm sorry that I had to break it up like this. This series became more involved than intended, as you can probably see. More information regarding Residency and its significance is to come👀 Stay tuned to get back to your regularly scheduled Frenchie x Reader content <3 Adieu!

teeny tiny taglist: @llynx7 @stinkysam

[sexydoffyman]

IT IS I…..

I have RETURNED TO THY WITH ANOTHER REQUEST!!!!!!!! I ALSO LOVED THAT YANDERE KONIG HC I ATE THAT SHIT UPPP HOLY LIKE YALL R SO GOOD WTF

🔥

anyways ignoring my crazy ramblings,,,,,,,,

this time I have dropped on by to request some DRAMA AND TEA, maybe headcanons on ghost, soap, and konig fighting over the m!reader’s love

YOU HAVE CREATIVE LIBERTY, GIVE US MORE HCS PLEASEEEEE and take ur time!!! U CAN MAKE IT SPICY OR NAW BUT I NEED TO SEE THIS

MAYBE SUBTLY FIGHTING OR NOT… I MEAN,,, I MEAN,,,,, YOU CAN ADD MORE PPL IF U WANT…….. I DONT MIND BECAUSE I NEED TO SEE THE TEA UNFOLD

FIGHTING OVER YOU

navigation

p1 p2 p3

genre: romance?

characters: Ghost, Soap, König

A/N: You may have just become my favorite requester.🦑

artist @ave661 check their stuff out, my fellow humans!

Soap and Ghost definitely mock each other. Ghost saying, Soap is a Leprechaun. Soap just says, "Go brush your teeth." in the most British accent.

They are rivals. Both have the same goal.

The mockery is just a "play fight" since they know each other.

With König tho. When he joins the fight over your attention, all hell breaks loose.

He's tall and intimidating, and they don't know him.

Those two stop arguing so fast.

Now, they have a common enemy.

To be honest, any two of them would gladly team up to ruin the third ones attempt to get your attention.

Ghost and Soap would threaten König when they see him eyeing you.

It's not the "Don't touch him, he's mine!" kind of threat. It's the "I will haunt you and everyone you ever cared about down." kind of threat.

It progressed from mocking each other, embarrassing each other, pulling each other away from you to blood on their fists and faces.

They fought like damn animals.

Soap had his face obviously bruised.

Ghost had his balaclava slightly torn.

König broke some of his gear.

They were trying to rip each other to shreds.

All just to get your attention.

Not even Price could've stopped the fight.

They just tired each other out so much they passed out.

Their way of fighting lacked any morals.

Trying to poke each other's eyes out.

Breaking a couple of ribs along the way.

Price was not in the room when they passed out. There were just a couple of new recruits.

All of them didn't dare to get close to them when they saw how brutal they were.

When they got up, they were at each other's throats once again.

Not caring about the injuries they had.

The room cleared, with no one wanting to get caught up in the fight.

Soap was about to throw a punch at König but stopped.

Ghost took that chance, punching him to the ground.

He soon realized why Soap hesitated.

You ran up to the hurdle of tired soldiers.

They all loosened up, releasing anyone from their grip.

"Holy shit, ya'll fucked each other up!" You exclaimed.

Ghost's eyes filled with embarrassment. You could swear he was blushing under that mask.

Soap smiled at you awkwardly, hoping that you didn't lose interest in him because of his brutality.

Königs eyes softened. He felt so relaxed when you talked to them.

You bent down next to them, examining their wounds.

Soap and Ghost were just waiting for you to look at them with disgust. Meanwhile, König was admiring you.

"BUHAHAHA" You laughed at them. "What kind of disagreement made you fight like this?" You wondered giggling.

If only you knew.

The three of them looked behind you, seeing another dude look at you with a smirk.

There, it was decided.

They were gonna work together to make this dude piss his pants.

Now, you have scary dog privileges.

A/N: I can see myself writing p2 of this so feel free to request for this again.

[webslingingslasher]

reader taking a creative writing class and she normally lets frat!peter review / read it in general except for when she writes something that is lowkey (highkey) about them or her feelings about him and their situation and then one day he sees a graded assignment on her desk and he’s like “which one is this? you didn’t let me read this one.”

ooooo, i really, really like this!!! ya'll are so creative and bring these stories to life i'm not kidding.

while you're rummaging for a pair of sweatpants peter stashed, peter looked around the room he's spent hundreds of hours in. eyes scanning the pictures on the wall, then looking at your desk.

"petey?" your voice muffled from the closet.

"yes, baby?" behind his shoulder. flipping through a marked book, reading over your little notes.

"there's a new breakfast place by the sub station," he hums, setting the book down and tapped on the small heart surrounding the current date on your calender, your sleepover planned out.

"i heard, i think some of the guys are going next tuesday."

a drawer shuts loudly, his head tilts at a graded paper on your desk, a creative writing paper. picking it up he calls back to you, "wanna go tomorrow?"

you aced it, it was from last week. you always let him read your work, and if you didn't, you'd tell him you'd gotten a perfect score. "yeah, sure!" a drawer slams, "found 'em!"

peter looks over the story, eyes skimming around certain parts.

"hey, what's this?"

you let out a breath when you emerge from your closet, "what's wha-" catching sight of what's in his hands, the sweatpants drop to the ground, your blood runs cold.

nearly pushing him to the floor you rip the paper from his hands and shove it behind your back, "nothing!"

"why so secretive? you always let me read them."

you shake your head quickly, your throat feels thick. "it's... not good."

peter's eyebrows furrow, "you aced it."

licking your lips, "you wouldn't like it. it's not your type of reading."

"that's just not true, trouble. i love anything you write."

he sees the panic on your face, desperate for a way out of the situation, it clicks, there's only one reason you wouldn't want him to know about it.

"holy shit, it's about me."

a deer in headlights look, "no! it's not-"

"it's totally about me, otherwise you wouldn't look like you're torn between shitting yourself or puking."

"i'm not-"

"is it bad? is that why you're hiding it, you think i'll get mad?"

you shake your head softy, "no, no... i think it would make you sad."

his shoulders sink, the room feels quieter. "oh. can i know what it's about?"

shrugging, your eyes can't look into his. "how you make me feel sometimes."

peter feels like he's been gut punched, "and it would make me sad?"

"maybe, probably, i don't know. can we watch the sopranos?"

"trouble, if it's about me i'd like to read it." he sounds a little stern, it puts you off.

"no, because i don't need you to try and give me another lesson about the casualness of our relationship. i'm allowed to feel sad without beratement, sometimes."

peter takes a step back, "what do you mean by beratement?"

shaking your head, "nothing, sopranos?"

"no, it's something and i want you to tell me."

taking a deep breath, and choosing silence, he nods after a minute.

"well then, boundary established. sopranos and cuddle?"

you nod giddy and tuck the paper away in a drawer, while you curl up next to him and focus on the screen his eyes float to the desk and wonder if he'd get a chance to read it, and if he could do it without saying anything.

[papermint-airplane]

Ya'll need to see this, my friends are so talented holy shit!!!!!!!! @judetuude made this incredible photo machinima revolving around the romance of Agnes Crumplebottom and Erik Darling from Sims 3. Everything about it is so perfect! The atmosphere, the music, the poses, the lighting!!! I can't even deal with it. 😭😍😭😍😭

I'm so inspired right now!!!! I have so many things planned for Rogue Town and this makes me want to do even more.

Sims 3 (and the Sims franchise as a whole) is such a wonderful medium for art like this. I'm so glad that we all have this creative outlet that we can share with each other. 😭😭😭

[chelleisamazing]

One year ago, I saw a trailer for an upcoming prime movie and thought the concept was right up my alley. I decided I'd read the book if I liked the movie but wanted to wait to see it first.

One year ago, I stayed up late to watch this movie the day it came out; I remember I'd gone out with my friends that night, so I came back home slightly tipsy but still determined to watch and oh boy, what a ride it was. I laughed, I swooned, I cried sad and happy tears at 3 AM in my bedroom and by the end of it, I thought I'd never seen anything else like it: so unique and wholesome, warm and hopeful ❤️

One year ago, I decided to read the book and got even more trapped into this story than I already was, already watching the movie daily for weeks. I felt for Henry. I related so much to Alex... I could see myself in him, especially in his struggles of trying to define who he was and how he felt about it... I'd never been brave enough to let myself think about those things, but this story gave me that last push. Alex's story made me believe love can win. Henry's story made me brave. For me, it wasn't just about the romance but a journey of self-acceptance and courage.

It's been a year of fun, creativity, positivity, love, and joy ♡ thank you to everyone in this fandom who makes it brighter every day with your wonderful creations, whether it be fics, gifs, manips, fanart, etc-- ya'll make this such a wonderful place to be at. We loved this movie and story so much that we even made a sequel happen, and I still can't believe we managed to do that sometimes!

Thank you to Matthew for deciding to bring this story to the big screen and bring more visibility to it, so that all the people who hadn't even heard about the book like myself, found it's way to it ♡ thank you Nick for being our beloved Henry, and being so loving and caring of our dear heartbreak prince, the prince who decided to be brave to live as he truly was ♡... thank you to Taylor for being the most perfect Alex we could've asked for-- as many have said, he's the embodiment of so much goodness in a person, I can't think of anyone better to play our dear bisexual menace ♡. He loves this story so much and knows how much it matters to many of us who are like Alex-- queer or latino or relating to Alex's inner struggles with anxiety/adhd. He did the job with so much love that I can't wait to see what's next ♡

And the most thanks to Casey for sharing with us this story that was in their heart, a story of hope for a better world full of the acceptance that everybody deserves ❤️

Happy Birthday RWRB, it's a joy to be here 🎂❤️🤍💙

[redcruxsworld]

Just found out Goldheart's real name is Herbert Leth..... I'm gonna bet my two balls that he absolutely hates his name, lol. That name ugly as fuck. The mom literally just said, "I'm lazy, so I'll just pick some random name that rhymes with our last name. Herbert, ah, yes, perfect." Like gurl, think creatively, ma'am. Take Miss Heed's real name, for example, Cecilia Amanda Kelly. Now that is celebrity name if I have ever seen one. Seriously, I'm wondering who gave Goldheart and Flug's moms the right of passage to give those names to them. Ah..... Herbert and Kennings...... I hope none of ya'll actually name their kids those cuz jesus christ dude.

[scalene-geometry-cipher]

△Intro Post△

"Hello.. I am Scalene.. You are..?"

".."

"Hm. I see.. Wonderful name, Love."

[BY SENDING IN AN ASK, YOU HAVE READ THE BELOW]

[Due to some confusion, the 'plot' for this blog is that Euclydia was reformed some way or another]

[ALSO, I'm self indulgent, so Scalene is a lesbian like me, so Euclid, at least on this blog, is also a woman, they just use male titles]

Adopted Bills;

Wilhelm DSF!Bill

[Also, any attempts to inform Scalene of what Bill did will be useless :3.]

[ALSO, Also. If you run a Bill blog and want this blog to act as the mom, just message me, I'm happy to fill that role!! Though you may have other bill cipher siblings/silly]

DNI

~ Incest/Pinecest/Pedo asks ~ Sexual asks ~ GoFundMe asks

!! I WILL be calling any askers/roleplayers "Love", "Dear", "Sweetie", and "Sweetheart". It's all in a motherly way !!

Due to people popping up in my inbox as child euclidian ocs(dw I love it when ya'll do that), you may have to suddenly wait a while if I randomly get creativity block, I promise I see your asks!!

Do you want to interact with the mod of this blog? Here's a fun server I made!

Current RP tags for silly kids

#hollyandscalene #tobyjadeandscalene #littleliamandscalene #teenytinytriangle

For ALL euclydian kids

#MommaScalene

Misc tags

#euclydians - For interactions with other euclydians #(mods personal favorites) - for posts that makes me giggle/laugh/cackle whenever I remember they exist.

[stars-n-spice]

Here's an Idea-

Y'know, as much as I absolutely LOVE even more of a DILF Hunter with his salt and pepper hair (that I'm so incredibly jealous of) and his lovely dad bod, AND the conversation he had with Omega,, I've been thinking-

There were 16 episodes in Season 1. (with the first being 70+ minutes) - for a total of 512 minutes. - 9/15 of these episodes were 30 minutes or more. There were 16 episodes in Season 2. - for a total of 462 minutes. - 6/15 of these episodes were 30 minutes or more (with all the others being short by one or two minutes). There were 15 episodes in Season 3. - for a total of 423 minutes. - 2/15 of these episodes were more than 30 minutes.

The Bad Batch finale had me so fucking frustrated it's making me do MATH. fucking MATH. I'm a Screenwriting Major with a minor in Creative Writing, I haven't taken a math class since Freshman Fall semester!!!!

So if you're wondering, "Hey that felt rushed," you're not crazy or anything because it was!!

LOOK AT THAT DIFFERENCE!! From the first season having more than half of the episodes be more than 30 minutes to the third season not even being a third of that!

OKAY BACK TO MY EARLIER IDEA THOUGH-

I'm not going to say shit about/to the writers or anything because as a writer myself, I'm just,, not going to do that? I'm currently struggling with my own script that I really should be working on but I have Bad Batch brain worms and I'm so fucking frustrated I can't focus on it right not but-

Here's what I would've done:

End the 15 episode with them all under the tree. "Whatever we want, kid. Whatever we want."

Boom, that's it. There it's done. Episode ends there.

THEN!! Have another episode that deals with the aftermath of everything. Considering they're all in their armor and whatnot still, it looks like the last moments happen like almost IMMEDIATELY after they get back.

We don't get to see Wrecker and Crosshair talk or do ANYTHING in reaction to the injuries they sustained on Tantiss. They don't further interact with Omega or really each other. So use that 16th episode to have them do that.

Give Tech a proper send off since ya'll wanted to keep him dead or whatever in that 16th episode and finally talk about him. Let Phee be there too. Actually have an emotional conversation with weight to it. There's SO much there you can explore.

THEN end it with the timeskip with DILF-ier Hunter and a grown up Omega.

Then that would make it all feel a little more complete than abrupt like how it felt for me.

OR

Okay, so you don't want to have a 16th episode? You just want the 15? That's fine. I have an idea for that too!

Alright, everything is the same, you end it with the tree, fade to black okay.

Instead of the timeskip, that portion would've been better served to give Tech his send off. To finally fucking acknowledge him and talk about him outside of being the "brains."

That would've been your chance to have that conversation.

As much as I loved Hunter and Omega's conversation, as hot as Hunter was, and as fucking touching as it was to see Hunter old and alive and living; I think it would've been much better to have that time to talk about Tech instead or something.

Originally, while I was watching it and when I noticed it was an older Omega my immediate thought was "Oh no, is she visiting their graves??" because I couldn't be sure of the timeline and clones age twice as fast so I didn't know how much time had passed.

That wasn't the case (thank god, my heart can only handle one clone grave scene) but I think that honoring Tech and REALLY honoring him - not off hand mentions or staring at broken goggles - would've fit PERFECTLY there.

And don't have it be a timeskip because that timeskip, as wholesome as it was (and again, as fucking hot as Hunter was) just left me feeling empty. I felt like I missed out on a huge chunk of something and I didn't like that.

Just...something where a few days after recovering from everything they all have a moment and sit down and talk about Tech or something. Just something.

Anyways, that's it for my ramblings. That's just how I would've done it.

[xxscarletxrosexx]

I spent 6 grueling hours researching how to protect one's photos/scans so you wouldn't have to--And these are my findings:

As the title states, I spent 6 grueling hours researching how to protect one's photos/scans in case other collectors want to protect and/or receive credit for their photos.

Once more let me emphasize THEIR PHOTOS.

Backstory:

It's not a secret that I'm quite a big collector of official Spy x Family merchandise, specifically clear file folders, stationery, and acrylic stands. I own so much, in fact, I have a tendency to own a handful of duplicates and had the crazy idea to start a small business selling these duplicates via Ko-Fi. A thought came to me that since I had already invested in a light box and a scanner for selling my merch, why not also use them to share pictures of my collection for other fans to view and appreciate?

And that was when I had sought the opinions from my good friend, @yumeka-sxf. Yumeka has been kindly posting high-resolution scans of her SxF merch (clear files, pages, etc.) on Tumblr. She is someone I also deemed as an expert when it came to uploading merch on the internet. She gave me incredible advice with awesome foresight when it came to watermarking high-resolution pictures and scans. She easily predicted what disrespectful people would do if I hadn't moved my watermarks to certain (albeit not really appealing) spots. And, just like she said, someone did attempt to remove my watermark using AI. You can read about it here. @yumeka-sxf also provided her own insight to watermarking merch here--if ya'll are interested to read.

I won't go into too much detail, but essentially they're long posts meant to educate people on why fans, who own the official merch, put watermarks on their pictures. The bottom line is, we're claiming the picture for ownership, NOT the merch.

Second, did you know that people have found ways to remove watermarks?

That gives me enough incentive as to why I want to take it a step further to protect my photos/scans.

"If I take a picture of something do I own the picture that I took?":

Yes and no. Yes as in, the picture is yours. No, because depending on your subject, it falls under numerous jurisdictions of copyright. You can find all the details in this insightful post from veteran photographers.

But since we're focusing on the topic of photos and scans of merchandise, I'd like to provide these screenshots:

And so, to re-iterate, the only thing you'll get out of copyrighting your photo is just the right to the photo--which is all I want.

The Findings:

6 grueling hours of research for protecting one's picture led me to several insightful directions--one of them amusingly brought me down a rabbit hole of how to protect one's real estate pictures. They did have some wonderful tips if you guys would like to read them!

Unfortunately, I do not own Photoshop so I could not make any edits on the metadata or create a layer that will prevent downloading the content of the picture. Preventing screenshots/right-clicking is limited to control on a website and/or can easily be canceled by plug-ins. So that just leaves me with finding something creative solutions the only tool I have: Canva (more on this later).

I spent some more time reading more journals and visited USCO (United States Copyright Office) and, finally, Pixsy.

I'm gonna be honest, USCO is THE BEST way to protect your media (merchandise, art, etc.) IF you have the money to support it.

Not only do I not have the funding for this type of service, but my photos don't exactly meet "originality" especially when the subject of the photo is copyright-protected merchandise, which means there are severe punishments for those who pursue any commercial purposes (such as selling my photos to make money rather than directing people to purchase the official work from the licensing site). And at the end of the day, I just care about the photo, itself, and receiving credit and source.

It's ridiculously simple to just credit and source a picture, and yet, it'll surprise you how many people just can't do that. This is why, I must take these extra precautions to ensure credit and sourcing.

So, I opted for Pixsy for its free plan that includes 500 images being monitored.

There's no doubt that I'll most likely invest in a monthly subscription if ever I amass beyond 500 pictures for monitoring.

Currently, it has already done an impressive job of identifying pictures I've posted with my watermarks on Ko-Fi, Twitter, and Tumblr. It has even identified reblogs/retweets.

For some odd reason, it uploads my pictures horizontally when it's normally vertical ^^; but it still gets the job done. Interestingly, it hasn't picked up my pictures from Mercari yet. I assume that if I were to upgrade to the subscription plan, Pixsy might be able to find it by then.

Procedures:

I'm sharing my procedures for protecting one's photo (and content, if applicable of course).

Step 1: Register on Pixsy. As I've addressed earlier, it's free.

Step 2: Upload HIGH-RESOLUTION pictures (no watermark) to Pixsy's database. This is probably the most accurate way for Pixsy to identify pictures of the same (or similar) "blueprint". In the picture below, I provided a screenshot of my picture without the watermark (left) with a picture they found of my picture with my watermark on it from my ko-fi shop (right).

Step 3: If you plan to upload a photo/scan with or without watermark, it is recommended to upload your image at 550 pixel image and at 72 dpi. This makes it good for the internet (see first image below). But once you zoom in, you can tell the difference in quality (see second image below).

I mentioned before that I don't have photoshop, so I experimented with what I do have: Canva.

Since I have a premium membership (indicated by crown icons), I just use the following settings:

and it gets the job done.

I am planning to upload my photos without watermarks to the Spy x Family wiki quite soon, so I did all this research to prepare for possible theft and/or the lack of crediting and sourcing--just in case. A friend of mine told me that s/he can try to ensure crediting through the file name, which is a ridiculously kind gesture, but I'm not ignorant of people who change/completely ignore file names. That's unfortunately just the way it is on the internet.

Hopefully, I've curated enough research to help protect photos/scans from possible theft (if reposting is not allowed by the owner).

I don't mind if my photos are used for reference AS LONG AS they credit me and link the source directly to the image itself (not one of those cut-corner kind of way and just link my Ko-Fi gallery). I won't tolerate laziness when it comes to sourcing considering I invested a lot of money to purchase merch and invested hours--even days--to get the best photo/scan + researched information on the merch for public access.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part sixteen

authors note: this is a nice lil break from all of the angst! ya'll deserve it! just.....remember that storms sometimes come in cycles, so let's just enjoy now! also, my legal knowledge is limited, so we take some creative liberties. just go with the flow, bro.

i also wanna just say thank you, as always, to all of you who enjoy this story of mine! i hit over 100k words and 300+ pages in the google doc i write this in, and it's such a special thing that i feel largely goes to you all for the wonderful support. so thank you!!!!

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: angst (good-ish?), fluff, language, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 7k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @southerngirl41 @wanderingreigns

The hearing to see if the open case against you moves forward is scheduled for 8am on February 15th, 2024.

You’re outside that courthouse at 7am sharp on February 15th, 2024.

It’s all you could think about in the days leading up. Once you learned that you passed your home inspection, there was a bit of relief but still that bitter feeling of not knowing how the court date would go that kept you in that loop of misery.

Joe, bless his soul, has been a saint, staying with and supporting you in between his frequent trips to your mom’s house to spend time with Callie.

And Alexis…..my God, you’re not sure how and if you could ever repay her. She gave you a detailed play by play of her attack on Mariah, and while on the surface level, it pleased you to know that bitch got her ass beat.

It didn’t do shit to the emotional pain you’ve felt at having your child ripped away from you.

Hate is a strong word, but you hate her. She could drop dead tomorrow, and you’d spit on her grave.

It’s a bold sentiment but also how you feel. Maybe it’ll go away as time passes, or maybe it won’t. Truth be told, you don’t really care too much about it either way.

You’d hoped Alexis would stay around a little longer, as you deeply enjoyed her company, her support, wanted to express to her how much her grounding you and keeping you from catching a case, putting herself at risk for catching a case, meant to you. But, in true Alexis fashion, she’d hopped on a flight and skipped town.

It wasn’t entirely surprising. She can never be in one place for too long, but it does leave a little bit of a sting. 

Granted, in her words, “Girl, don’t worry, I’ll be back when my warrant becomes active.”

The memory brings a small smile on your face as you sit in the courtroom, hearing the details of the case presented to the judge. 

It’s a daunting ordeal but not nearly as difficult as you anticipated, mostly because there is literally nothing being presented that could implicate you in any way. Truthfully speaking, the prosecutor and your public defender sound like they're advocating for the same thing: a complete dismissal. 

It provides you a small slither of reassurance and validates your request to have Joe stay at the apartment. In the negative percent chance that something went wrong today, you wanted to continue to keep his presence in Callie’s life a secret. Push comes to shove, he could serve as a liaison between the two of you.

The presenting of the “evidence” lasts much shorter than you were anticipating, and it’s when the court is ordered to stand, that the rush of anxiety returns. It takes a lot in you to settle yourself, to keep your foot from tapping, to keep from falling out.

Reminding yourself that not a speck of incriminating evidence was presented, thus no basis for moving forward with the investigation, is what keeps your centered.

As centered as one can be in this moment. 

There’s a brutal delay in the moments before the verdict is handed, one that makes your throat dry and eyes water. It’s suddenly so overwhelming, but you force yourself to pull it together. 

Judge Merritt removes his glasses from his eyes and releases a heavy sigh. “In all my years on this bench, this may be the most frustrated I’ve felt by a case before me.” For a second, your stomach drops. What does he mean by that? “There is not an ounce of evidence before me to support the actions that were taken nor the claims made against the defendant.” A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you ground your feet into your heels. That’s definitely not what you were expecting him to say, but it’s most definitely what you were praying he would say. 

“The law is the law, and I respect all parties involved who followed protocol. But my God, what a waste of time and resources.” He then directs his focus specifically on you, gaze almost apologetic. “Young lady, I sincerely apologize for the stress this situation has put you and this innocent child under. What a disgrace. Whoever made these horrific, false accusations against you, may God have mercy on their soul.” He reaches for his gavel. “All charges are dismissed against the defendant on the basis of no evidence. This case is officially closed, and the child is to be returned to the defendant’s custody, effectively immediately.”

At the same moment he bangs the gavel, you double over, hand over your stomach, crying almost instantaneously. “Thank you,” you say in between tears and share a hug with your lawyer. Surely, this is the easiest case they’ve ever defended, but it’s now one of the most important moments of your life.

You don’t hesitate to gather your jacket and adjust the purse on your shoulder as you murmur a goodbye to the lawyer and make your way down the aisle of the courtroom. You’ll probably send him a thank you card with a heartfelt message at a later date and time, but that’s not a priority currently.

The only thing you want and need is to go get your baby.

You’re looking down, trembling hands digging for your car key in your purse when you hear it, the single most beautiful sound to exist in this world, in your world.

“Mommy!”

There’s a good chance you risk whiplash when your head snaps up at the sound of the voice you’ve been almost dying to hear for the past couple days. It’s so worth it when you land your eyes on that dimpled smile that makes your life have meaning.

“Callie…..”

Before you can even close the gap between the two of you, Callie’s little feet are moving across the busy lobby of the courtroom. You literally drop to both knees, arms spread to accept her hug when she throws her body against yours. 

The tears intensify as you hold her close, hold her tight, like you’ll never let her go. And you won’t. Never again. “Calista….” She’s crying into your chest the same way your tears are soaking the top of her head. “My baby. My sweet baby….”

Callie pulls back to look at you with a frown you hope to never see on her face ever again. “Please don’t leave me anymore, mommy.”

“Never,” you vow. Law be damned, nothing could ever separate you from her again. “I will never leave you again.”

It’s the joy and happiness you feel at being reunited with your daughter that prevents you from asking just why the hell she’s at the courthouse. But, that question is answered when footsteps approach the two of you.

Your heart swells again. “Mom….” 

Your mom is the first to pull you into her for a hug that includes the three of you. She pulls ways, tears in her eyes. “There was no way on God's green earth I was going to let one more unnecessary minute pass before letting that baby be with you again.” It’s clear Joe communicated the time of your court date with your mom to make sure she would be here right on time for the dismissal and subsequent return of custody of Callie to you.

He’s literally the perfect man.

You can’t stop hugging Callie, can’t stop holding her tight, almost needing to have her in your embrace. It’s when you turn to your mom though, needing to express something to her but not entirely knowing how that you loosen your hold a little bit. “I’ve missed you so much, mom, but….”

She lifts her hand to stop you. “I understand, sweetie. We’ll catch up.” You appreciate her so much in this moment. She must know all you want is to be able to have Callie back in your place again, return to some semi sense of normalcy. “Go take your baby home.”

She gets it. You love her and have missed her dearly. However, you just want to go back to your place, especially as Joe is eagerly waiting for Callie to be back with you as well. Just want her to be home.

“Thank you, mama,” you hug her again, sniffling. She holds you for a minute and then steps back, brushing a hand over Callie’s face. Callie, who hasn’t pulled her head away from where she’s laying on your chest. 

You thank her yet again for all she did. She had to have been out of work the past week to stay with Callie, and you make a mental note to talk to her about giving her some money for that time she couldn’t work. You know she does okay for herself, but that loss of income has to impact her one way or another.

She may not accept it, but you still want to offer.

The car drive is full of Callie catching you up on everything you missed in the days without her, and you eat up every second of it. She’s even more thrilled when she sees that Joe is at the apartment, waiting for you and her with breakfast already prepared.

He really is a gem.

The three of you enjoy your meal, Callie opting to sit on your lap as she eats, clearly wanting to be close to you. 

The feeling is mutual. 

Joe had made a comment just yesterday, partially frustrated as it was Valentine’s Day, and he wanted to do something nice for you, something nice with you. But, he already knew you weren’t really in the mood for anything other than sulking and obsessing over your court date. Still, he was just irked about the situation as a whole and its hindering him spending what should be a special day catering to you.

You’d calmly explained to him that the best valentine's day gift you could receive was returned physical and actual custody of your daughter. And to have her back, to have just that, means the absolute world to you.

All you need is her.

Hence why the rest of the day is spent holed up in your apartment, Callie taking the lead and dictating what she wants to do. A lot of play. Some movie viewings. Occasional food breaks. And a lot of wholesome fun.

It warms your heart to see how happy she is to be home. 

The three of you are sitting on the floor of your living room, coffee table moved to the side to make room for all of Callie’s art supplies she ‘shares’ with the two of you as you all color. It’s about halfway through the day, when you realize you’ll need to start wrapping up to get her in bed.

Clearing your throat, you catch her attention. “Callie….your dad and I want to talk to you about something.” Her eyes lift from the page and settle on you with a heightened level of curiosity. Reaching out to brush back some of her hair, you start to explain, “you know how we live here in mommy’s place in this town?” She nods. “Well, daddy actually lives somewhere else when he’s not working.”

Her eyes fall on Joe as she asks, “where do you live?”

He answers with the gentleness you’ve noticed he reserves for her and only her. “I live in Florida.”

Her eyes flash with a glimpse of excitement. “Really? That’s where Disney is!”

Joe chuckles, and you can tell he doesn’t want to focus too much on that aspect of the move. He wants Disney to be an absolute surprise for her. “It is, but almost all of your cousins all live in Florida too.”

The excitement grows as she clarifies. “Cousin Jon and Cousin Josh too?”

Joe flicks her nose. “Yup.”

“Callie….” You redirect her attention back to you, taking both of her hands in yours. “Your dad and I think it’s a good idea if….if you and I move to Florida with him.” You quickly add on. “We’ll get a house together, and we’ll all live with each other. That way when daddy comes to visit, he’ll be at home with us.”

You can tell she’s sitting on the words, processing and making as much sense as a 4-year-old can make out of a situation like this. Finally, she asks, “will I still see grandma?”

This is when Joe jumps in and assures her. “I will make sure your grandma can come see you whenever she wants, baby girl.” Callie is too young to understand the underlying meaning of his words, but you catch on quickly. He’ll pay for your mom to come visit whenever she, you, or Callie want to see one another. “And you and mommy can come here and visit however many times you want to.” At this point, as this man is already forking up most, if not all of the money for a house, you have a hard time finding it in you to protest any of this. Especially as it primarily benefits Callie.

Again, she sits on this new information and asks a follow up question. “Can we get a backyard?”

Joe is quick to answer. “We sure can.”

She glances up at him with those sweet eyes you’re almost certain he’s physically incapable of saying ‘no’ to. “A big backyard?”

Joe suddenly reaches over and lifts her up high. Callie’s sweet giggles are food to your soul. God, you missed her. “As big as you want.”

Settling into Joe’s lap, she shoots you a wishful glance. “And a puppy, mommy?”

Laughing, you reach and tickle her side. “Nice try, sis, but you know the rule. Not until you hit double digits.”

Joe gives you that look. That look that tells you this is clearly something he wants to “discuss” further when alone, i.e., try to convince you why you should cave. You’re open for the discussion, but you’re not changing your mind. Callie is entirely too young for a pet, because you would be the one taking care of the damn dog most of the time anyway. And as you weren’t raised with animals, it’s not really your thing.

Maybe a fish.

Settling down, you ask her again as she sits comfortably in Joe’s lap. “So, you’re okay with this? With us moving?” Before she can answer, you add. “We’re going to try to find a house soon, so….so we can move as soon as we can.” This is the part you struggle with the most. Not having a lot of time to prepare for such a big thing, but you also know the sooner you’re out of that town, the better. Not being able to give her more time to say goodbye though absolutely sucks. 

Still.

You have to get Callie out of this town. 

“What about my graduation?” There’s a hint of sadness to her question. Understandably so. This is a big accomplishment for her. 

Joe offers, gently. “We’ll do something special for your graduation. I promise. Maybe invite your cousins.”

“With ice cream?”

“Yes. With ice cream.” Laughing, you share a look with Joe who nods for you to share the next part. “Hey, baby?”

“Hmm?”

“You, me, and daddy are gonna spend some time in Florida this weekend so we can go tour a house and see what we think of it.”

It’s something you and Joe discussed at length the night before. Well, more him telling you that he thought it’d be a good idea if you could get away for a couple days. You’re pretty sure he expected more of a protest from you, but he received none. The idea of being in a completely different state with Callie is more appealing than you think he realizes. 

It’s not a hard sell.

As with most of this discussion, she’s clearly intrigued. “Really?”

Nodding, you continue. “Daddy’s gonna fly out with us tomorrow morning, but he’s gotta leave tomorrow afternoon to get back to work, so it’ll mostly be you and me this weekend. But, I talked to your cousin Kaylah and we’re gonna see if you and Ellie can have a playdate.”

Both Kaylah and Trinity have checked on you often in the past week, offering words of support and encouragement that truly held you up in moments where you were already feeling so low. 

They make the idea of moving and having that kind of support system that much more enticing.

Connecting with her cousin clearly chips away some of Callie’s sadness as she cheers. “Yay!”

It pleases you immensely that she took the news so well, though a large part of you believed she would. 

This is what she’s always wanted.

A family. 

————

Traveling with Joe is so much easier than traveling alone, mostly because of how helpful it is to have another adult present when flying with a child. Naturally, Callie stays close to you, but it’s the closeness and holding her most of the time while Joe handles luggage and checking you in for your flight that you appreciate more than anything.

You’re appreciative of all he does for you, but it's physically being there that makes the biggest difference. His money is fine and all, but you don’t care about that shit. You just need him. That’s all.

Of course, he got you all first class tickets but unlike the last time you flew with Callie, instead of her being the social butterfly that she is by making friends with the flight crew, she’s fast asleep in her seat. It’s not entirely unexpected considering the ungodly hour you had to wake her up at to make it in time for the flight. If the situation was different, you’d have objected to such a crunch timeline. However, as Joe literally has a show tonight, the earlier the flight, the sooner you could view the house, the better the chances he can make his flight out in time.

Joe’s apartment is exactly as nice as you imagined it to be. It’s definitely luxury, but it looks like it’s unlived in, which is expected. You know he spends most of his time on the road. He’s probably been at your place more than he’s been at his own in the past couple months.

That’s just the life of a professional wrestler.

You lay Callie down in the guest bedroom and let her get in a little rest while you freshen up in the shower before Joe shows you around his place, where things are and whatnot. He tries to get you to take a nap, but it’s hard for you to sleep, especially when you slept as well as you did the night before.

The best sleep you’ve had since Callie was removed from you.

So, you instead catch up on some emails, mostly work related, navigating a time to meet with your principal and figure out some plan for your resignation. You’d be willing to stay on with the school system to guide and help out whoever they hire to replace you, so long as they understand it would be a long distance type of situation. 

Regardless, it’s not a major concern. Your family comes first. 

Joe, being the perfect man that he is, fixes a breakfast for you and Callie to eat before you head out. And it’s nice to finally be able to eat without emptying your stomach less than half an hour later. It’s even nicer to be able to share that breakfast with the two people you love the most.

Similar to breakfast, the car ride to the viewing is a fun time, Joe allowing Callie to have control of the music. She, of course, asks you to play her Disney playlist.

You don’t hesitate. You’ve missed this, missed all of her requests, everything about her, really. 

But pulling up to said house is an entirely different experience.

“Holy shit,” you breathe as Joe pulls his Range Rover into the driveway behind the red Tesla you’d guess belongs to the realtor his manager hired for ya’ll, Jen.

“Mommy, you said a bad word,” Callie scolds, and Joe chuckles. You shoot him a side glare which only makes him laugh more as he moves to unbuckle Callie from her booster seat. 

“Mommy’s sorry, baby.” It’s a genuine apology, but you don’t actually regret what you said. You can’t help it. The house looked huge in the pictures, but it’s massive in person. You feel like you’ve just walked into Beverly Hills or something. Like if the house wasn’t secured by a massive, black wrought iron gate, the neighbors would call the police on you for trespassing on some where did you people come from BS.

Jen, the realtor, is waiting for you in the foyer of the house. She’s nice enough, seems genuine and chill. But, it’s hard to focus too much on her when you’re stuck in a state of awe at the fact that you’re literally standing in a mansion. Callie instantly falls in love just from the fact that her voice echoes near the entrance, among other things as well, but that fact alone wins her over immediately. 

You find it strange, however, when Jen basically leaves the three of you alone to tour the house. Granted, you’ve never actually been on a house tour, everything you've seen on HGTV indicated homegirl is supposed to actually, well, sell the house.

“Sis must not care about this commission,” you whisper to Joe, but a gasp immediately leaves your mouth afterwards as you walk into the kitchen. “Oh my god….” You’d fallen in love the minute you saw the pictures, but seeing it in person is a whole other experience. “Look at the ovens.” The open floor plan of the kitchen alone probably rivals half the size of your apartment back home. Maybe more. “Is this real granite?” Running a finger over the cool stone, you realize that in a house this big and luxurious, it only makes sense that everything included is real. 

And expensive.

Callie giggles, standing close to Joe. “Maybe mommy can learn how to cook.”

Smacking your teeth, you playfully cross your arms over your chest, warning, “okay, I’m forreal. Ya’ll better leave me alone. I try.” 

“Yes, you do absolutely try.” You can’t move fast enough to punch Joe’s arm, a small laugh leaving his mouth at your slowness. Or maybe it’s just his speed. You can tell he’s been hitting the gym harder in preparation for WrestleMania, and it’s paying off, paying off very well. With everything going on, you haven’t had the time nor desire to show him said appreciation. 

An unfortunate occurrence indeed. 

“Let’s look at the rest,” Joe encourages, leaning over to pick up Callie, though something tells you she’ll be wiggling to get down and explore with her own two feet. 

Following them, you’re grateful that you wore your most comfortable pair of sneakers. Exploration of this home is a workout in and of itself.

Sure enough, you’re barely into the back of the house when Callie asks to get down, running into the movie theater room. “It’s just like the movies!”

“It sure is….” Touring the rest of the residence is something like out of a fantasy. There’s not a single thing you can find wrong with this house. The rooms, and there are plenty of them,  are large, spacious, ready to be decorated as you see fit. You even come across two spaces that you could see being your and Joe’s office spaces. That’s one thing you really did miss after giving up your office for Callie to have a playroom. This house is big enough for her to have two playrooms if she wants.

And you know Joe would give it to her. 

The master bedroom is literally perfect, but the bathroom is even better with a separate shower, bathroom, and large his/her sinks with counter space that links the two sinks. It conjures inappropriate thoughts about how said space could be used. 

But, it’s really the backyard that does it for you. It’s humongous, beautiful green grass stretching out for what seems like a mile. There’s a separate attached building that you already know Joe would turn into a home gym, a beautiful pool that’s covered up, covered patio and just nothing but room for Callie to run around.

And she does just that.

Her little legs take her all over the greenery as you take in everything else. 

Joe suddenly turns you toward him. His hand is on the back of your neck, and his voice is almost vulnerable, as he asks, “do you like it?”

Maybe if not for the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on the past week, you’d hit him with your usual smartass remark. But, that’s neither a desire nor an option, as you answer with equal vulnerability. “I love it.” It’s when you see that spark of excitement and relief in his eyes that you see a glimpse of Callie, see her smiling face and big, hopeful eyes. You’d never realized just how much of him is in her. “But Joe, I don’t want you sp—”

“It’s ours.” 

One, two, three blinks precede you asking with a stutter in your voice. “W–what?”

His hands shift to your hips as he repeats himself. “It’s ours.”

There’s a hint of alarm growing in your body and projected into your voice. “You’re saying that like it’s supposed to make sense, Joe.” 

He brings his lips to your forehead and says, “this is our house.”

You’re hearing him, but you’re not actually hearing him because there’s no way in hell he can be serious right now. No way that he can seriously be telling you that this beautiful house you’re standing in, the kind of house people can only dream about having one day, the level of luxury that’s reserved for Pinterest and vision boards…..is yours.

Chuckling at your probably expected reaction, he adds. “I could tell by your facial expressions just looking at the pictures that you loved it, so I asked Kaylah and Alexis to come see it, since Kay knows what I like, and I know Lex knows what you like.” You suddenly realize why he was being a bit strange with his phone the other day, a stark difference from the man who literally told you his passcode even when you didn’t ask for it. Going through your man’s phone was never your thing, especially with him. You trust him too much for that shit.

It also explains Alexis' sudden departure. She was checking out the house for you, seeing if it was something that you would like. Obviously, it’s not something you like.

It’s something you love.

Joe continues to explain. “Now, technically, the signing isn’t until next week, because I wanted to give you and Callie a chance to see it for yourselves, but it is under contract to make sure it’s ours….if you want it.”

If…..

There is no if in this situation.

“Joe…..” Tears are burning your eyes, and it’s still hard to comprehend just what he’s saying, but the reality is also setting in as well. “You seriously bought us a house?”

His expression softens, voice lowering as he reminds you. “I told you, I love you, and I want to be with you. Wanna be with Callie.” 

It’s hard to not be choked up in this moment where this man has literally purchased an entire house for you. And not some small 1 bedroom, 1 bathroom starter home in the middle of bumfuck nowhere but a literal mansion, a dream.

Sniffling, you nod to yourself, laughing tearily and reach up to hug him. Joe’s arms are immediately around you, holding your body close to his. “Thank you.” He must have done all of this in under a week, recognized how difficult all of this was on you and wasted no time in speeding up this process to get you what you need. “Thank you so much.”

He’s always there for you when you need him, and you’re not sure how to help him understand how that means the absolute world to you.

Callie runs over to where you’re standing, trying not to be a blubbering mess. Your emotions have been all over the damn place lately. Thankfully, she directs her question to Joe. “can we come visit here when we move to Florida? It’s so fun!”

You give Joe a nod, indicating to him that he should tell her. This may be a moment for all of you, but it’s a special thing you want him to be able to have with Callie. 

“Baby girl….” He kneels down on knee in front of her, gently pulling her closer to him. “This is our house.” She gasps, and you can only imagine the happy smile on his face. “You, me, and mommy, we’re gonna live here.”

“Really?” Her excitement is palpable and stretches across the entire premises. “Forever?”

He chuckles. “As long as you want to live here.” 

Callie suddenly asks, clearly realizing just what this means. “I can paint my room?”

That’s one thing you also know she’s always wanted to do, to paint the bland white walls of her room back at your place. 

Now though….now she can. 

“You can draw on the walls in your room for all I care, baby girl. It’s your room.” He would be that dad, the dad that lets his kid do whatever they want with their space, because it’s their space. 

If only you were that mom.

“Uhh, Joe—”

“And get a puppy!” Your eyes go wide at this. This child really is not taking you seriously, but you’re especially floored when Joe’s ass whispers to her something about talking to you about it.

It’s when Callie starts to run around the backyard, happy and ecstatic, celebrating, that you warn him. 

“You think I’m playing, Joe. Get that lil girl a puppy, and I promise you, you gon be taking Toto on the road with you. She gon be at your side when you do your slow ass walk to the ring. I’m not taking care of no dog.” And you mean that. Callie can give him all the puppy dog eyes—no pun intended—she wants. She’s just not old enough yet.

Of course, Joe tries to sway you, suggesting, “it’ll teach her responsibility.”

A heavy sigh leaves your mouth as you observe Callie spinning in a circle. This child has the energy of the energizer bunny. “We already have one rambunctious child. Let’s just focus on her first, please?”

Your little family of three is more than enough.

It’s everything you need.

This, right here, right now, is all you need.

————

Joe told you he talked with Kaylah about being a bit of your tour guide and helping you and Callie to familiarize yourself with the area while he was gone, but he didn’t mention that Kaylah would literally be coming over that night.

It’s a surprise when you get a call from the front desk asking for permission to buzz Kaylah in, but you don’t hesitate to authorize it, especially when you overhear Ellie’s little voice in the background. 

You know Callie will be thrilled to see her cousin. 

And she definitely is, the two girls making more noise than probably what’s appropriate for an apartment, especially an upscale apartment. But, something tells you even if there is some type of noise complaint, Joe won’t hesitate to dead that shit.

“How are you doing? Really?” Kaylah asks as the two of you sit in Joe’s living room on the sofa as the girls play in the guest bedroom. The TV is on Smackdown, but Joe hasn’t made his appearance yet.

You promised Callie you’d call her when he got on screen, so it’s something you pay attention to.

“I can’t believe she would do that to you, and she was supposed to be your best friend?” Kaylah sounds rightfully disgusted. “You and Callie didn’t deserve that.”

“I have my baby back, so I’m much better now.” And it’s the truth. It’s almost night and day how having Callie back in your custody has completely changed your existence. You can actually bring yourself to do something other than cry, can actually experience emotions other than sadness, and most importantly, you can also keep food down.

There’s still some lingering nausea that you wish would just go away, but it’s tolerable. Much tolerable than the constant vomiting.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to leave that place. I don’t know if I could stay there either after that.”

“A part of me doesn’t want to go back now.” Even though you’ve only met Kaylah once, there’s something about her that’s comforting and easy to talk to. “I just….even now, it’s like I have this fear that they’re gonna take her from me as soon as I step foot off the plane.”

She reaches over and places her hand on top of yours. “That’s over with now. The judge dismissed everything. You’re okay, girl. Callie’s back home.”

Feeling the wetness on your face alerts you that those damn tears have returned. For someone who hates crying, you’ve sure been doing a lot of it. And you hate it. 

“Thank you, Kaylah.”

She gives you a warm nod and smile. “Oh!” Kaylah reaches over to her purse on the coffee table, digging around before she pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Here. You’ll need this.” Unfolding the paper, she explains, “it’s the info for the doctors and dentists Jon and I use for ourselves and the kids. Ellie especially loves Dr. Pyle. She’s super great with kids, and I absolutely adore my primary and OB-GYN. They’re both fabulous black women who actually listen when you have an issue.”

There’s so many things to consider when moving that it never even crossed your mind yet that you’d need to find a whole new slate of medical providers. Kaylah’s thoughtfulness is so appreciated. “Thank you. I should probably call tomorrow and get those appointments set up now.”

With everything you’ve been through this past week, it’s not a half bad idea to get a check up just to make sure everything is going good internally.

You add that to your to-do list for tomorrow. 

Maybe see the OB-GYN for your women’s wellness exam as well. You’re just about due anyway.

She nods. “Definitely, and I don’t know if you and Joe have talked about schools, but Ellie’s private school is really great.”

Private school….

You’d definitely thought about schools for Callie, but a private school wasn’t really an option as you were factoring in your financial capability. Now though….now that Joe is in the picture, you’re almost certain he would not only want Callie to be in private school vs public school, but he’d pay however much it cost to do so.

You’re not entirely opposed, interestingly enough. Especially since Callie is technically the kid of a celebrity, it might be a good move to keep her in a smaller, more private setting. 

“We haven’t, but I’m sure it's a discussion we’ll have.” You then remember. “Can you also give me the information for the dance academy Ellie goes to? I think I want to see about putting Callie in ballet.” It’s something she’s been wanting for a while, and accepting Joe’s financial generosity is becoming easier when you think about how it can benefit Callie. She deserves all of the happiness in the world.

And you’d much rather her do ballet than finesse her daddy into getting her a dog that’ll eventually be yours.

“Of course! We can actually swing by there tomorrow, so you can get a feel, if you want.” She offers, and it sounds like a great plan. Checking out the school with Joe is also something you make a mental note to discuss with him. Something tells you Kaylah is a good judge of character, but you need to check for yourself. This whole experience has made you that much more protective of your baby girl. “Joe also asked that I take you guys furniture shopping to start furnishing the house.”

At that, you groan and lean your head back against the sofa. “Girl, it’s gon take a minute to furnish that house. It’s so big.”

“It is, but it’s also so beautiful.” She leans closer to you, hand on your forearm. “And you don’t have to do everything at once, just like the master, Callie’s bedroom, the living room. You know, the main rooms.”

“Oh my goodness, I already know Joe is gonna’ have that girls room looking like a damn toy store.” He already mentioned something about knowing someone who does wall art and murals and reaching out to see if they could do a Disney mural in her bedroom. Not that you’re opposed to that. “He already spoils her. Now that we have this big ass house, I know it’s only going to get worse.”

Kaylah makes a sound and shrugs. “Let him. He loves her. He loves being a dad. Let him spoil her. Let him spoil you.”

“I love Joe for a lot of reasons that have nothing to do with his money. I don’t need him to spoil me financially. Other ways though….” Because of everything that’s happened the past week, you’ve had neither the mental or desire to be intimate with Joe. But with Callie returned to you and the litany of other positive things happening in your life, that sex drive is gradually building back up.

A small part of you is wishing that you’d gotten in a ‘quickie’ in the small space of 

‘Callie is sleeping’ time before you went to see the house. Granted, you also know that Joe isn’t a fan of quickies.

If he can’t have you for as long as he wants you, milking out at least 2 to 3 orgasms, he doesn’t want you at all. 

“Girl please, that man is like my brother. I don’t need the visuals.” She laughs, waving her hands in a “please shut up” manner. Giggling, you glance at the TV and see the blue lights flashing around the arena.

Sitting up and angling your body towards the back of the sofa, you make a sound when your chest presses against the cushion of the sofa. Your boobs have been weirdly tender too. Ignoring one of many annoying things about being a woman, you shout out, “Callie Bear! Daddy’s on TV!”

Callie runs in there faster than Usain Bolt, Ellie not too far behind. The girls plop on the living room floor, Callie’s eyes glued to the TV, not wanting to miss a second of it.

Your attention is also glued to the TV, but also elsewhere, even as your fine ass man talks his shit while looking so good doing so. 

You’ve learned a lot in the past week, been through a lot, but one of the major takeaways has been the importance of community. Of family. Alexis has transcended past best friend territory. A best friend doesn’t do what she did, doesn’t take the heat, even if she won’t feel said heat, the way that she did for you.

That’s something a sister would do. 

And while your heart swells at the notion of considering and seeing her as such, having that important conversation with her about what you want her to be in your life moving forward,, it’s also triggered another train of thought.

With change, comes friction, and while that friction can be uncomfortable, it can lead to something beautiful.

Look at you and Joe. Where you started, and where you are now. If you had to, you’d do it all again. It’s just all so worth it. 

So, you decide to pull out your phone as Callie goes crazy seeing Dwayne aka “cousin Maui!” appear on the screen and scroll to your earlier messages. Your thumb hovers over that thread, and there’s a brief moment of hesitation before you decide to power over fear and type out a message

You: hi, bianca. sorry for the delayed response, a lot has happened….  but you’re right. it can end with us. when’s a good time to call you? better yet, can we meet up?

You don’t even bother proofreading it before hitting send, not trusting yourself not to back out.

To say you feel 100% confident with your decision would be an absolute lie. You’re still wary about moving forward, but you owe it to yourself, and Callie, to try. From now on, you only want and need people in your life who want and deserve to be there.

And if…..and if your sister is included in that list, then you owe it to yourself to at least see what happens there.

This is a new season of your life, and you intend to embrace it for all it brings.

[candybowbeansies]

Rule the World

warnings/notes: reader is preggers, Angst to Fluff, ofc ya'll are married but due to who he is ya'll never had a ceremony but still filled the papers in, reader has a panic attack then a mental meltdown, and this starts around the raid, so spoilers ahoy! After much debate, I decided to go w Armless!Overhaul BECAUSE HE NEEDS COMFORT FROM LOSING HIS ARMS LIKE THAT DAMNIT 😭 Kai is a prison inmate, reader has to jump through hoops to gain approval for a conjugal visit in Tartarus(it's freaking Tartarus so I'm taking creative liberty, there's nothing realistic about the process in here you've been warned), but ya'll are stubborn so you keep at it until ya'll finally do 🥺 its ftb like the other fics, and conjugal doesn't necessarily mean purely sexual! let ya'll's imagination go wild 🥺👉👈

~Masterlist~

be his~ be his~

Snacks plated and radio jamming softly in the background, you pad over to your living room, talking to your friend over the phone. “Oooh, boy, are you seeing the news? There’s a story about some big raid on a villain's compound coming on.” they ask as you plop down on your couch, snacks set on the coffee table before you. “Really, now?” you hum taking the remote to turn on the tv, pushing in numbers for the news channel. “Let’s see what’s going on, then.” you speak to your friend. When you look back to the screen after settling in, you see a very familiar place in an aerial view.

‘We're here live at Hassaikai Compound, in the aftermath of a Police raid, search, and rescue. The Police had cooperated with the Hero Sir Nighteye's agency and other heroes brought into the job through the Hero Commission.’ 

There was a massive hole out front. Your hold on the phone grows lax, you’re heart dropping to your stomach. You knew he had his secrets, that was expected of a yakuza. Even so, you loved him. A year ago, you and him agreed that you were both too busy to have a ceremony, but still filled in to become officially married.

‘The villain Chisaki, Kai, known as Overhaul, and his dangerous goons have been subdued successfully, but at what price?’

You stare on in disbelief, on the edge of your seat.

‘Sir Nighteye has been gravely injured--impaled, I'm hearing by sources-and some students from the infamous 1-A have sustained injuries as well! They've packed these villains up and sent them off for protocol. Hopefully the likes of them end up in Tartarus! We'll be right back after--what?! I'm hearing the security escort on XX Ramp were attacked! We'll have helicopters on scene after the break!’

'I was wondering have you ever been, have you ever been anything other than, other than true, have you? Never been good but I've never been better'

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as his and your song begins to play. You were looking forward to telling him the news the next time you would meet with him.

They fall when you see the attack happen on the vehicle he was put in from the news helicopter's view, high above.

You see the fire, you see the threatening figures looming over him.

'I was wondering have you ever been anything anything other than you, is that true? We're not gonna be here forever'

A pitiful sound escapes the back of your throat as you lift your hands, digging your fingers into your scalp, as your whole world comes all but crashing down. You open your mouth, a silent wail escaping you.

You were pregnant.

'I don't want to stay here on my own I don't want to let that body go'

Your sobs fill the room as you curl up against the couch, effectively muting the radio playing the other room. The phone and the person on the other side of the line are completely forgotten, the tv droning on and on as you break down.

The following months, you found yourself fighting for your visitation rights.

Even Tartarus allowed visitations, but there was a host of meticulous procedures that had to be done. Things had to be signed, imaging had to be done.

During your stay in the provided accommodation, you'd be treated like an inmate. Everything that happened in Tartarus, stays in Tartarus.

If that's what had to be done to see the man you loved, you were more than willing.

When the suits approved you for a conjugal visit, you were somewhere along in your second trimester. You were elated at the news.

So happy, that the majority of your processing went by in a blur. You were escorted by armed officers, shackles around your wrists and ankles, wearing a special pair of goggles that blocked out your vision.

Your toes curled as you're wheeled through what you assumed were checkpoints; loudspeakers beeping and heavy metallic doors clattering open, one after the other, until you feel a stop.

You knew better than to say anything, impatiently counting down the seconds until you could finally be with him.

Him; your hubby.

Once more, you hear metal clatter off to your side instead of in front of you.

Your man. Just a little bit longer...

You feel yourself being swiveled to the side, as they wheel you inside and stop. They prattle off about everything you already know, and you nod along.

The father of the life inside you. How would he react?

Your heart thuds against your ribcage anxiously as your shackles and goggles are removed and they exit the room. You stare at the armored door in front of you as you hear the one behind you close.

After a few moments, you hear the whirring, which prompts you to stand up and pad as close to the door as you dared. Slowly, it creaked open-and the figure beyond the threshold washes away the last of your patience. "Kai!" you gasp as you run straight towards him, inadvertently plowing into him, overwhelmed by the reunion to tears. He grunts at the contact, giving a soft huff as you keep calling his name, clinging to him.

His name; you'd call out to him, until your last breath.

His armless embrace is awkward at best, yet it does wonders to soothe you. "Kai." you call out once more, soaking up his warmth like a sponge as he deeply inhales your familiar scent.

"Angel." you hear his wavering voice and you look up to him, his sharp amber eyes wet, a small smile playing his lips. You caress his cheeks, thumbing away the tears on his lashes as they flutter closed.

"How's baby, my love?" he asks, and you giggle. Nothing gets past him, you swore. You feel them shift inside you, a soft gasp escaping you. But you can't help but smile wider. "Happy to finally hear Daddy." you say, relishing in his chuckle. You kiss his unkempt stubble, and he places a kiss on your temple.

'I love you's are gently exchanged, along with soft words that bring pleasantly fuzzy warmth and content; this was just the beginning.

You had every intention of enjoying every moment you could with him.

[renton6echo]

Day 1 of 30 Days of The Bad Batch

Season 1, Episode 1: Aftermath

Alright. Let's dive into, probably, my favorite episode of the series so far. It's just such a great opening to the characters and the story. What a way to open a series right at Order 66. I just knew we were in for such a rollercoaster from the start of this show. Really, Order 66? That's where you're starting off the show? Force, have mercy on us all.

The biggest gem of this episode is that it's the only one we get where we get to see Hunter, Echo, Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair just be a squad together. If I had my wish, I would have liked to have seen more of that before Crosshair and the rest of the batch split off. It was harder to see what the loss of Crosshair did to the team on an emotional and military tactics level. We didn't get much in the way of their team dynamic apart from Crosshair just being known as the surly, grumpy one. While I do love all the theories around how it was likely Echo who stepped into the role that Crosshair had like like being the peacekeeper between Tech and Wrecker's, it would have been nice to see more of that so we had an idea of what the Batch lost.

I've put my live musings of the episode under this thread for the sake of my followers. Sorry, not sorry!! Ya'll knew what you were getting into following me 👀

Not sure if anyone else is interested in doing this but if you're also re-watching TBB before the season 3 premiere be sure to tag all your musings in the #30 Days of The Bad Batch so I can read them!!

@floundrickthewayfarer @saturn-sends-hugs @the-bi-space-ace

First off, Captain Grey, I wish we had gotten to know you more before your chip activated because you seem like a sassy and salty man. I'm sure you and Rex swapped lots of stories.

Wee Kanan. I remember watching this the first time and having just finished Rebels. I saw and heard Kanan and literally said, "Oh, shit. Please no!! This is so mean." Good times. Good times.

So at what point did they realize they could use Echo's scomp as a melee weapon? It is so badass.

Oooff. That shot of the large canyon separating Kanan and Hunter that symbolizes the break between clone and Jedi *chefs kiss*

I really wish we had more scenes take place in TBB's barracks. So many fun details to dissect.

Will never get over Tech's matter-the-fact "My exceptional mind." Legend.

LOL. Echo's put-out expression when Wrecker notes how ugly Palpatine is! I've never noticed that.

Wonder how well the clones are informed in intergalactic politics. Echo seems to have a real knowledge of the larger political nuance more than the others. He is the first to openly question clones as soldiers of the Empire versus the Republic. I assume the Kaminoans would not have spent a lot of time educating clones on political structures and more on just being compliant with the system they were born into. For most clones, the transition from republic to empire is more or less just a name change, but Echo clearly takes issue with the implications.

Battle simulation time! Honestly, I could watch a whole series of clones just bantering and comming each other in battle. Such a fun, creative way to learn about characters and see them interact with each other. Wrecker and Tech sniping at each other is the best thing ever.

ALSO, Hunter why you whistling at them? You got comms for a reason you dramatic punk.

The implication that Crosshair also cried after seeing a fully stocked armory is just...I need that footage.

I never noticed that most, if all the weapons the Onderon insurgents have are Republic-issued.

Omega liking the batch's smelly barracks? Yeah, she's one of them.

Freaking Tarkin. I'm assuming he was just going to fry all their brains to make the whole batch compliant. Ugh. Poor Crosshair.

Oh, Shock troopers. Worst jobs with the worst rap. Do you think we will get to see Commander Fox in the last season? 🤞🏽

"You were down!" Echo has the best sense of humor.

[shuckinbeanz]

Rule the World

warnings/notes: reader is preggers, Angst to Fluff, ofc ya'll are married but due to who he is ya'll never had a ceremony but still filled the papers in, reader has a panic attack then a mental meltdown, and this starts around the raid, so spoilers ahoy! After much debate, I decided to go w Armless!Overhaul BECAUSE HE NEEDS COMFORT FROM LOSING HIS ARMS LIKE THAT DAMNIT 😭 Kai is a prison inmate, reader has to jump through hoops to gain approval for a conjugal visit in Tartarus(it's freaking Tartarus so I'm taking creative liberty, there's nothing realistic about the process in here you've been warned), but ya'll are stubborn so you keep at it until ya'll finally do 🥺 its ftb like the other fics, and conjugal doesn't necessarily mean purely sexual! let ya'll's imagination go wild 🥺👉👈

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

~Masterlist~

Tags: @dynamightsdaydream

be his~ be his~

Snacks plated and radio jamming softly in the background, you pad over to your living room, talking to your friend over the phone. “Oooh, boy, are you seeing the news? There’s a story about some big raid on a villain's compound coming on.” they ask as you plop down on your couch, snacks set on the coffee table before you. “Really, now?” you hum taking the remote to turn on the tv, pushing in numbers for the news channel. “Let’s see what’s going on, then.” you speak to your friend. When you look back to the screen after settling in, you see a very familiar place in an aerial view.

‘We're here live at Hassaikai Compound, in the aftermath of a Police raid, search, and rescue. The Police had cooperated with the Hero Sir Nighteye's agency and other heroes brought into the job through the Hero Commission.’ 

There was a massive hole out front. Your hold on the phone grows lax, you’re heart dropping to your stomach. You knew he had his secrets, that was expected of a yakuza. Even so, you loved him. A year ago, you and him agreed that you were both too busy to have a ceremony, but still filled in to become officially married.

‘The villain Chisaki, Kai, known as Overhaul, and his dangerous goons have been subdued successfully, but at what price?’

You stare on in disbelief, on the edge of your seat.

‘Sir Nighteye has been gravely injured--impaled, I'm hearing by sources-and some students from the infamous 1-A have sustained injuries as well! They've packed these villains up and sent them off for protocol. Hopefully the likes of them end up in Tartarus! We'll be right back after--what?! I'm hearing the security escort on XX Ramp were attacked! We'll have helicopters on scene after the break!’

'I was wondering have you ever been, have you ever been anything other than, other than true, have you? Never been good but I've never been better'

Tears sting at the corners of your eyes as his and your song begins to play. You were looking forward to telling him the news the next time you would meet with him.

They fall when you see the attack happen on the vehicle he was put in from the news helicopter's view, high above.

You see the fire, you see the threatening figures looming over him.

'I was wondering have you ever been anything anything other than you, is that true? We're not gonna be here forever'

A pitiful sound escapes the back of your throat as you lift your hands, digging your fingers into your scalp, as your whole world comes all but crashing down. You open your mouth, a silent wail escaping you.

You were pregnant.

'I don't want to stay here on my own I don't want to let that body go'

Your sobs fill the room as you curl up against the couch, effectively muting the radio playing the other room. The phone and the person on the other side of the line are completely forgotten, the tv droning on and on as you break down.

The following months, you found yourself fighting for your visitation rights.

Even Tartarus allowed visitations, but there was a host of meticulous procedures that had to be done. Things had to be signed, imaging had to be done.

During your stay in the provided accommodation, you'd be treated like an inmate. Everything that happened in Tartarus, stays in Tartarus.

If that's what had to be done to see the man you loved, you were more than willing.

When the suits approved you for a conjugal visit, you were somewhere along in your second trimester. You were elated at the news.

So happy, that the majority of your processing went by in a blur. You were escorted by armed officers, shackles around your wrists and ankles, wearing a special pair of goggles that blocked out your vision.

Your toes curled as you're wheeled through what you assumed were checkpoints; loudspeakers beeping and heavy metallic doors clattering open, one after the other, until you feel a stop.

You knew better than to say anything, impatiently counting down the seconds until you could finally be with him.

Him; your hubby.

Once more, you hear metal clatter off to your side instead of in front of you.

Your man. Just a little bit longer...

You feel yourself being swiveled to the side, as they wheel you inside and stop. They prattle off about everything you already know, and you nod along.

The father of the life inside you. How would he react?

Your heart thuds against your ribcage anxiously as your shackles and goggles are removed and they exit the room. You stare at the armored door in front of you as you hear the one behind you close.

After a few moments, you hear the whirring, which prompts you to stand up and pad as close to the door as you dared. Slowly, it creaked open-and the figure beyond the threshold washes away the last of your patience. "Kai!" you gasp as you run straight towards him, inadvertently plowing into him, overwhelmed by the reunion to tears. He grunts at the contact, giving a soft huff as you keep calling his name, clinging to him.

His name; you'd call out to him, until your last breath.

His armless embrace is awkward at best, yet it does wonders to soothe you. "Kai." you call out once more, soaking up his warmth like a sponge as he deeply inhales your familiar scent.

"Angel." you hear his wavering voice and you look up to him, his sharp amber eyes wet, a small smile playing his lips. You caress his cheeks, thumbing away the tears on his lashes as they flutter closed.

"How's baby, my love?" he asks, and you giggle. Nothing gets past him, you swore. You feel them shift inside you, a soft gasp escaping you. But you can't help but smile wider. "Happy to finally hear Daddy." you say, relishing in his chuckle. You kiss his unkempt stubble, and he places a kiss on your temple.

'I love you's are gently exchanged, along with soft words that bring pleasantly fuzzy warmth and content; this was just the beginning.

You had every intention of enjoying every moment you could with him.

[andicareaboutyou]

Coming Home (Chapter 11: Your Tears A Sea For Me To Swim In)

Summary: Amy and Kirsten are finally in front of Morag's and Gordon's house. Let's take a look at their emotional state.

Notes: I'm sorry for the major wait, ya'll. I have been a little distracted recently, in all the good ways. But I decided to finally publish this chapter, only half edited I must admit. It is what it is and I hope you'll still like it. I personally struggled with this one, a lot more than I should have, but I hope you won't be (too) disappointed. It's not the end of our story of course, but it's the next step.

Again, I thank you all for reading, kudos-ing, and commenting. It means a lot, as the writers among you will know, and I truly appreciate you taking the time to read my creative outpourings (or trickle these days).

Teaser: “Amy, when I was last here, Morag and Gordon, they mentioned the conversations you’ve been having about custody, and they thought I knew. But you don’t need to say anything. It’s just …”

With a voice, gentle but distant, the words tumbling from Kirsten echo the painful rift in the landscape of their relationship. She can feel Amy’s gaze on her from up the curb – initial shock apparent in Amy’s wide eyes and her gaping mouth. Kirsten can’t help but remember all the times she couldn’t pull her eyes away from Amy’s face, those eyes. But here, now, under the magnifying glass of Amy’s attention, Kirsten just wants to disappear.

Stranded and broken, she steps back from the overwhelming magnetism of Amy Silva, feigning a strength that is little more than a blend of fear and hurt. “Well, it’s just in case it comes up, they know we are not together now.”

They had never verbalized the end of their relationship, neither fully aware of where they stood and where they could go. And now, for the first time, words as heavy as iron chains weigh in the space between.

We. Are. Not. Together. Now.

They say you shouldn’t look back when moving on, but as hard as Kirsten tries to put on a brave front, she cannot find an anchor anywhere else – her eyes are drawn back to the woman in front of her, her reaction, her presence, her love. Kirsten wonders how she will ever truly move on when her every fiber just wants to melt into the stubborn and frightened woman in front of her. How did she ever end up in so vulnerable a state, so lost in the sea of what could have been.

[... Read further on AO3]