#br4wl

[erad1cator]

@br4wl continued from x

◤ ⸸ 𝗕 𝗥 𝗨 𝗧 𝗔 𝗟 𝗜 𝗧 𝗬 ⸸ ◢      it's easier to focus on someone else than it is to focus on the cyclone of emotions coursing through her head . she hasn't settled on whether she's more angry or hurt or lost or something else she can't put a name to . all she knows is that she has murder in her veins and if she doesn't lock herself in the house , someone's going to get hurt and she's going to have to figure out who she can trust to bail her the fuck out . and she'd have to deal with press and the consequences ... probably have hunter fire her the second she could be contacted . and as hurt as she is , liv morgan and dominik mysterio aren't worth her losing what little she has left .

she forces a smile to black smeared lips as he speaks , thankful he seems to understand ... even more thankful that he doesn't seem to be pushing to talk about the bullshit the whole world just saw . with a huff of breath she collapses on the couch beside of him , legs tossed over the arm and the back of her head resting on his leg . at least she can admit to herself that the warmth , the contact ... it's the comfort she needs right now . baby blues raise to watch him for a moment before she crinkles her nose . " that depends . is there blood or sweat or any other bodily fluid dripping from it ? "

[smrnffvdka]

@br4wl asked: ❝i just punched shit, let’s call it therapy.❞

texts inspired roleplay meme

 𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐧’𝐬  𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞  𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐬  𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦  𝐡𝐢𝐬  𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝  𝐤𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬  𝐭𝐨  𝐡𝐢𝐬  𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞  𝐚𝐬  𝐡𝐞  𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬.  shaking  her  head,   she  drops  his  hand,  though  the  amusement  is  evident  on  her  face.  jon  is  a  wrestler,  so  it  doesn’t  come  as  a  surprise.  ❝you  know,  i’m  not  sure  that’s  how  therapy  works.❞  she  teases,   leaning  back  in  her  chair, she raises an  eyebrow  at  him.  ❝i’m  pretty  sure  it’s  all  about  problem  solving,  did  punching  solve  any  problems?❞  another  smile  spreads  across  her  face  as  she  waves  him  off.  ❝who  am  i  to judge?❞ she  laughs. ❝my  therapy  comes  in  the  form  of  a  plant.❞

[chvmpisms]

@br4wl said:        ❝   you’re   my   good   girl,   and   my   girl   deserves   the   best   of   me.   ❞

is   sat   on   his   lap   on   his   couch,        somewhere   liv   has   grown   acutely   familiar   with        —        if   she's   not   in   a   city   she   doesn't   know   the   name   of,        she's   right   here.        sees   no   problem   with   that,        even   if   they   haven't   talked   about   what   it   means.        sees   no   problem   with   pressing   her   chest   to   his   and   letting   wandering   hands   run   over   her   body.        ❝    oh,        i'm   your   girl,        huh    ?    ❞        squeezes   over   his   arms,        presses   a   kiss   to   the   corner   of   his   mouth.        ❝    what's   the   best   of   you,        then    ?        you   been   keeping   something   from   me    ?    ❞

[roznrot-a]

@br4wl ❤︎'d for a starter !

❛  Oh !  You're  so  lucky  you just walked through that door.  ❛   He is so lucky!  She visibly brightens upon seeing him,  though  evidently  preoccupied at the stove  —  stirring a big pot while standing on a wooden stool.   

❛   I'm  making  potato  and  leek  soup  — And we just got a new kitten.  She's  in  that  box  over  there.  ❛   Abra gestures,  quickly,  to the 12x12 box near her feet,  where a sleeping kitten lay bundled inside. 

[powertobite]

[ FANGS ] for sender to playfully bite receiver with plastic fangs.

there's a soft shriek that comes from her lips surprised by him coming up behind her. but instantly she knows it's him. death, taxes, and the fact that no man would ever try to take what was his. and even if they tried she would show her own fangs.

the shriek melting into laughter.

as he leans against her, his body towers over her and admittedly that was one of the first things that had attracted her to him. she takes half a step back so she can be closer to him. her hand coiling up behind her body to rest against the back of his neck, giving him a soft scratch. loving --- as she feels the plastic on her neck.

"where ever did you find those?" she asks finally turning around to look at him.

[kngdrip]

❛   should’ve   gone   with   the   good   ol’   sheet   ghost   costume   …   like   me.   ❜   jon   chuckles,   the   white   fabric   of   said   costume   crumpled   between   his   hands.   it   was   meant   to   be   a   trial   run,   just   the   two   of   them   trying   on   their   costumes   –   a   test   for   the   big   day   …   the   big   day   being   them   hanging   out   at   home   to   hand   out   candy   because,   for   once,   neither   of   them   had   to   work   on   halloween.   

he   watches   seth   struggle   for   another   few   seconds,   fabric   tightening   around   his   broad   frame   as   he   tries   to   pull   it   over   wide   chests.   smirking.   chuckling.   until   he   decides   to   help   him.   ghost   costume   lands   on   the   bed   when   he   steps   closer.   ❛   hold   still.   gonna   punch   me   in   the   dick   or   something   if   ya   keep   acting   like   a   fish   on   land.   ❜   fingers   find   the   zipper   that’s   pulled   down   just   half   way   and   drag   it   down   fully.   ❛   there   ya   go.   ❜   and   pinches   seth’s   butt   for   good   measure.

fingers grow tingly before mox shows mercy. helps to peel off what , admittedly , is an intentional eyesore. abstract in its approach , seth would confess , eventually , that he doesn't see winnie the pooh either. but that didn't matter. wouldn't stop him from adjusting the sequins with a huff , hips impulsively jerking away from greedy fingers. " i'm gonna punch you in the dick alright. " once he's caught his breath. after unruly hair is tamed and sweat - kissed shoulders raise for the punctual roll they deserve. " remind me not to ask for your help if i ever choke. " a pause. an exhale. " —not like that. "

halloween is complicated. for seth , it waddles on unsteady feet , several loads of baggage hauled in hands , under arms , and atop tired shoulders. why couples costumes was never suggested. why he'd not stopped @br4wl from cutting holes in expensive sheets ripped from the mattress. giving in is easier when the alternative is another strike on his record. " i didn't say anything about what you chose.. " lazily. without spending more than half a minute thinking about it. " you were gonna leave me like that , admit it. "

[hitcritical]

@br4wl apologies and bitter red wine

The  wine  will  grow  stale  before  he  forces  the  words  out  of  his  mouth.  Silence  is  easier,  even  when  he's  spread  his  legs  just  so  that  his  knee  is  within  reach  of  the  other  (  it's  a  shit  peace  offering,  but  it's  the  only  one  he's  got  right  now.  )  Roman  can  hear  his  own  breathing  as  he  inhales  and  exhales  sharply  through  his  nose.  Never  one  for  apologies  ;  not  even  when  he's  rubbed  his  knuckles  raw  by  now.  A  crack  of  the  bones  in  his  hand,  a  roll  of  his  shoulders.  Nervous  ticks  are  not  easily  beaten.

❝Drink.❞  A  command  that  does  not  quite  land.  He  does  not  move  for  his  own  glass  either.  Taste  too  bitter.  Too  cheap  or  too  rich.  There's  no  in-between  left  in  the  world  now.  ❝Sorry  about  that.  I  meant,  drink  if  you  want.❞  It's  as  close  as  he's  going  to  get  for  now.

[hitcritical]

@br4wl a pot of fresh coffee and split knuckles.

They're  a  twenty-minute  car  ride  and  a  forty-two-minute  flight  away  from  the  next  city.  Days  are  cut  down  into  minute-long  intervals  to  account  for  every  moment  (  the  grind,  right  ?  )  Still,  no  one  usually  accounts  for  the  time  it  takes  to  patch  up  split  knuckles  and  matching  split  lip  that  aches  and  throbs  every  time  he  smiles.  However,  he's  now  allowed  to  nurse  his  scrapes  and  bruises  in  a  tucked-away  corner  with  a  cup  of  coffee  for  a  moment  due  to  a  weather-related  flight  delay.  The  pain  of  split  knuckles  does  not  hold  him  back  when  his  blood-stained  hand  waves  over  at  the  other.  ❝Come  here,  man.  Yeah,  come  on.❞

He  does  not  take  no  for  an  answer  when  the  foot  previously  resting  on  the  table  pushes  out  one  of  the  folding  chairs  close  to  him  in  the  vague  general  direction  of  Moxley.  An  invitation,  even  when  the  thing  falls  on  the  ground.  ❝Shit,  sorry  about  that  bro,  grab  a  cup.  You  look  like  you've  been  through  hell.❞  Only  half  a  compliment.  ❝Didn't  spit  in  it,  if  you're  worried  'bout  that.❞