#like open it and change/add a few words ya know?

[stray-crow]

today's word count: 235

Nov's Stretch Goal: 9318/10k

WIP(s): Shaking Kevin in a Bottle

[dog-bimbo]

toji n his sweet housewife — 18+ only ! minors do not interact

husband!toji 's got a craving for all things sweet and soft and absolutely delicious and that's you, his housewife! the minute you wake up, your find his huge body swallowing your tinier frame, drooling over your night dress as he cups one of your tits—he's safe and sound with his darling and has absolutely nothing to worry about. you sit up, planting a soft kiss on his cheek before you get out of bed and head towards the kitchen. the guy eats like it's his last meal and when it comes to your cooking, he just can't have enough of it. he eventually wakes up from his slumber, frowning a bit because you're already out of bed. the first thing he wants to see when he opens his eyes is you. to him, you were not just a woman who fed him, kept the house clean and the bed warm, you were something more than that. his only goal in life is to see you happy and smiling wide.

husband!toji has a musky scent to him which is even more prominent as he comes closer to you and hugs you from behind—feeling up your soft flesh, leaving sloppy trails of kisses over your collarbone and murmuring a soft "'mornin' sweetheart.", his stubble tickling you all the while. "good morning." all you had to do is look up at him with your eyes filled to the brim with nothing but love and he swears to god that he could melt right there. the two of you have breakfast in peace and as always, he's grateful for how you always make such hearty meals for him. he's aging and that dad bod he seemed to slowly morph into was proof that he's been well and happy for the past few years. gone was the toji who was rough around the edges and a product of his upbringing—he's healing now and it's all because of you.

husband!toji hates leaving you but he's not a bum no more, he's a hardworking man—and everything he does is for you and only you. "here's your lunch, i made your favourite." and as those words slip out of your mouth, he finds it harder and harder to bid you farewell. but he never leaves without a kiss. you stand on your tippy toes, slinging your arms around his big, strong shoulders as you plant a kiss on both of his cheeks, his forehead and finally his lips which leads to a fully blown out make out session before you break the kiss. "'m gonna miss you so fucking much..." he groans as he huffs. at his manual labour job, he chews his co-workers' ears off as he rambles on and on and on about you.

husband!toji doesn't necessarily get tired from all this, it's faaaar more easier than the contract hitman job he did in the past. it's just draining—he plops on the couch as he leans back and you immediately rush towards him—"i missed you so bad, darlin' how was your day?" he groans as his face brightens up a bit. all a man like him needed after a hard day of work was a woman like you���the absolute love of his life. knowing very well that at his core, he's a fragile man who needs some sweet tending.

husband!toji surely has changed his ways in all ways but one—he's still the man who has molded your tight cunt to perfectly fit his horsec0ck and he'll continue to do so with fervour </3 his red, angry tip kisses your cervix, stretching it impossibly as you cry out. "hang in there hun, 'm gonna take goooood care of ya'" his heavy balls slap against your pussy and his thrusts have left the mounds of your ass almost red as he alternates his pace from languid to hasty to best suit your orgasms. he's never been much of a giver with his past lovers but with you, his darling housewife, he'd do anything to see you blissed out with tears running down your eyes, murmuring broken words of praise that adds on to the heady scent of sex and the feeling of your gooey walls milking the jizz out of his c0ck.

[worriedvision]

Ajaw ruins his relationship with you - Kinich

Gender neutral reader, angst. No happy ending here, borderline crack BC Ajaw is a cracky character let's be honest. Ajaws a little shit here

--

Kinich had, somehow, caught your eye enough for you to successfully land a date with him. One date becomes two, and the third one ends in you inviting him over for a drink. He accepts, and before you know it your home becomes a place for him to call home as well. While Kinich wasn't very emotive, he seemed to smile just a bit around you.

However, the couple affections you would expect from him in a relationship weren't coming. Nothing like kissing or hugging, and for a while you think it's because Kinich was not a touchy person. You also knew he was very busy with his work, which was why the first few times he left and told you not to wait for him you didn't think much. At the time, in fact, you were more attracted to him because he was honest with you.

"Don't wait up." He blankly states, every morning he leaves. If you're lucky, he comes back at night time only to sleep - he doesn't make himself any food or drink from your home.

You got suspicious of him when you were hanging out with Mualani, and she brought up the fact someone called Ajaw wouldn't stop nagging at Kinich. When you ask who Ajaw was, rather if this was his boss, Mualani laughs.

"Ajaw probably thinks so, but they bickering too often to do any work together." Mualani tuts. "Do you never hear Ajaw? That voice is so... Annoying to hear!"

"No...I've never met this Ajaw." You hum out, Mualani gasping.

"Tell me your tricks!"

--

Once you get home from your interaction with your friend, you've had enough time to think. After some long thinking, you come to a decision. You move the stuff that's Kinich's, leaving them by the front door, and add temporary locks in addition to the one your key locks until you can change the lock.

To your surprise, Kinich sounds surprised when he notices his bags out. You refuse to open the door, having more than enough time to waste as you had a day off, and Kinich defeatedly picks up his few belongings before leaving.

--

"Hah! You should see your face!" Ajaw jeers, Mualani and Kinich groaning out at Ajaws harsh words. "Good thing _ wisened up and realised they can do a lot better than some mortal being that can't even get himself a group of companions!"

"Because you always ruin things." Mualani sighs.

"Hey, I can't take credit for this one! I never even once spoke around _!" Ajaw shrugs, putting some sunglasses on.

"I was hoping to finally get to spend some time with them. I've finally got enough cover for a few days." Kinich states, seeming to realise what Ajaw did. "...Mualani, you know how annoying Ajaw is. Do you know if -"

"Oddly enough no! Honestly, I'm jealous. Ajaw doesn't know when to shut up."

"...It seems they do." Kinich massages his temples, Mualani making eye contact with him.

"...Do you think they were suspicious you were seeing Ajaw? Yuck!"

"Hey, I can hear you, ya know?!"

"It makes sense though. They don't know Ajaw isn't even human, and also isn't mortal."

"Hahaha! Oh boy, even I didn't think keeping my mouth shut around your potential love interests would give this benefit!" Ajaw cackles, seeing Kinich's hand flying towards him. "Hey, what are - AHH!"

--

You keep getting asked if Kinich is single, each time you saying he wasn't seeing you anymore before they seem excited to pursue a taken man. It's quite concerning, really, you think theres little dignity in being the other person in the relationship.

Kinich tried to talk to you, but each time you saw him you'd make an excuse for being too busy before hearing some weird child cackling and screaming in retaliation to someone reacting to them. As much as his hurt expression spoke to you, you still knew in your mind that Kinich was in a relationship.

Even if he wasn't, you would know in your mind that you were the second choice.

[butchreg]

cg ! caitvi with a sickly baby headcanons !!

requested by @sugaaarcookie ! this was sent awhile ago so i hope that you're back to healthy by now my friend !! nevertheless i hope you like these :3 i'm not taking fic requests atm so i decided on headcanons between the two. i hope you enjoy ♡✧( •⌄• ) arcane masterlist here , upcoming list here

the most attentive cgs ever ! vi is always cuddling you despite your fever while caitlyn scolds him , and constantly checks your temperature.

caitlyn is more realistic in her fussing , pouting at the fact that you're too sick for her to kiss your cute little face. she's constantly scolding vi , reminding him that if he continues touching your feverish skin , he's likely to get sick too. she keeps her distance physically , wanting to stay well enough to take care of you but vi can't resist your feeble cries for him and cait.

"oh shhhh , bubba. ma's here," you'll curl into his side , and he can't help but kiss your head to stop your whines. "i know , i know. being sickie suc- is so hard." he'll change his wording upon a stern look from caitlyn.

while caitlyn is physically distant , she fusses over you soo much , making you soup and tea and ensuring that you have enough cool pillows and enough blankets.

it pains her that she can't hold you. she'll tuck you in , feeling your forehead , and cooing at it's heat. "poor baby ," she'll say sympathetically. "could you eat a little soup for mummy ? how's your tummy feeling ?"

vi will make sure you're never bored , often taking a few of your discarded stuffies and having them act out a scene or have a chat with him. if you want something you're not really supposed to have when sick , maybe a spot of ice cream , you can persuade him occasionally but never caitlyn. your feeble little voice breaks his heart , how could he deprive you of a little sweet treat ?

vi will often come in as backup for caitlyn when it's time for your medicine. you tend to protest , refusing the small cup of icky liquid. "come on , kiddo. it'll make you feel better , i promise," he'll say , offering you a pinky to swear on. you're stubborn , turning your head as caitlyn urges you to open your mouth. "c'mon , little love. say aaah !" vi will add onto his previous remark , "when have i ever broken a promise ?"

both cait and vi will praise you every time you accept your medicine , or manage to eat your soup or drink your tea. caitlyn will clap , telling you what a nice job you did. vi will smile , "there ya go , you'll be feeling better in no time." he'll remind you how brave you are and that you need sustenance to grow all big and strong like him.

if you're to get out of bed , caitlyn will fuss , worried you're not well enough. "oh sweetheart , mummy will help you. do you need to go potty , what's the matter ?"

vi almost always ends up sick due to his constant cuddles and kisses with his baby. caitlyn sighs when she hears that first cough. "just got a little something in my throat ," he'll insist , but the next morning he's bed bound as well , caitlyn insists upon this. she chuckles at his protests. "honestly , you're worse than the baby ," she'll jest , with a little smile shaking her head a bit. she scolds him , unable to keep herself from adding an "i told you so" but she tends to both of you with the utmost care , love , and attention.

[amara555555]

The blonde man:

Warnings: Jaegyeon’s car.

Daniel park x reader:

Ah yes the country side.

“I don’t like this.”

You step over a slug as Daniel walks infront of you, resisting the urge to haul ass out of excitement. Chiang liang, if you had any words to describe it, they would be hot, eerie, and occasional nature smells of poop. You and Daniel walked side by side before he stops and dramatically looks back at the chiang liang station. You were about to speak before a few deeper voices interrupt you and turn to a horde of gangster pass by coming out a bus.

“……uh-“

Daniel pulled you close.

“They use jeong la do accents.”

You blink.

“They do-“

“Kids.”

A gravelly voice made you both jump and you turn to see a bald gangster with scars.

“Move it will ya?”

Both Daniel and you start spotting gangsters EVERYWHERE- coming out of buses and the ones out of cars where most likely higher in rank…….aw they care for traffic laws-

Daniel and you both remain close as the gangster all walked past you, occasionally bumping shoulders.

“Woa- what is the need for all this-“

You step back and do does Daniel before a car’s engine turned off behind you two.

You turn to see and what the fuck is that? The most tacky hot wheel, lightning McQueen stickers looking chocolate wrapper designed car parked behind you two.

Daniel held you closer out of instinct before the car door opened.

“I’m sor-“

“You scratched it.”

You blink after someone with a deep voice had the gall to interrupt Daniel.

“Uh- who scratched who?”

You ask confused.

“Sorry?” Daniel asked now also confused.

“I said you scratched it. You’re gonna have to buy this car now.”

“WHOSE BUYING WHAT NOW?!”

Were you going insane or was this guy having a hernia? You and Daniel exchange the most baffled faces before you blink owlishly. You both turn back to the talking ugly car.

“What kind of logic is….”

Daniel gets interrupted, AGAIN.

“Don’t try to wriggle your way out of this.”

The door open upwards, like that adds any value and you blink in confusion and annoyance. Who the hell was this Ken doll?

Expensive sneakers and some very nice pair of jeans you had saved on your asos basket.

“Kid I got everything recorded on my dash cam, you scratched it after I got a new wrapping.”

“It’s a ugly wrapping and we would’ve done you a fav-“

Daniel shook you to stop talking as he stepped backwards with you in tow. This pressure was overwhelming and overpowering. Oh shit. Was he also a gangster?

“So what’s it gonna be kids, will we stop by the police station, or will you two buy this car?”

……….

“I told you coming to country side was a bad idea.”

Daniel huffed.

“Well how was I supposed to know we’d get conned?!”

The blond man with his titties exposed and pearls dangling over his chest, his shirt collar open down to his mid chest like a man you’d find in a tropical resort drinking Angel shots, a gucci belt and g those cute jeans he wore. But you couldn’t deny, he was fucking cute.

He shook a wavy lock out his eye as he kept his sharp eyes on you two…. You fell into a 8 year old one direction stare as you dreamily stared at the older man infront of you……………..and then Daniel shrieked-

“L-LETS GO TO THE POLICE STATION! BECAUSE WE’VE DONE NOTHING WRONG!”

Daniel pulled you close again and you joined in.

“we were literally like 2 feet away!”

The blonde man blinked.

“Brats, what police station? I’m not the type of person who makes big issues out of small problems.”

“….HUH?!”

You were right. This beautiful man is having a hernia.

Daniel grew pissy.

“I SAID LETS GO! WHATS WITH THE CHANGE IN ATTITUDE?! YOU’RE NOT SURE EITHER ARE YOU???”

At this rate you just began laughing.

“Whats so funny? You laughing at me? Punk? Oi. Both of you, stop making a ruckus and just buy it, since we’re close I’ll sell to you two for cheap.”

You wipe a tear.

“With what? Universal credit?”

The blonde man almost agreed before Daniel interrupted.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN CLOSE?! WE JUST MET!”

The blond man put his hands in pocket and resumed the sass stance 101.

“Then what will you do about this scratch?”

You scoff and pull out your fake protective UV light glasses from Temu, Daniel joined in the search.

“WHERE EXACTLY IS THIS SCRATCH?!”

“Please just buy it-“

You glare and Daniel and huffs frustratedly.

“We’re not buying! Why would we buy such a childish car?!”

“Yeah?! I’d rather take that bus that smells like fe-“

Suddenly Daniel was 2 centimetres away from having his face smashed into the floor and you gasp. Pulling out your finished pepper spray.

“BACK, BACK I SAY-“

“What did you just say?Shitty car?”

His voice now cold. You shiver from the underlying ferocity in his voice and his cold eyes locked on Daniel. You put the spray away and grip his shirt, aiming to pull him off.

“Get off him! Why’re you harassing city kids?!”

The man’s eyes widened.

“Hold on. Your minors?”

You nod aggressively and Daniel answers.

“Yes.”

The man now blinked.

“19 years old?”

You both frustratedly whine in unison.

“18!!!!”

He drops Daniel and you push him out the way to get to your friend.

“Are you ok?!”

He nods vigorously.

“I can’t sell you both the car then.”

“WE DONT WANT IT!”

The blonde man began walking away.

“Relax I wasn’t gonna sell it to you two today anyways.”

You dead pan Daniel who just deflated before the blond spoke again.

“It’s just that kind of day. A sad day.”

“…….THAT DOESNT EXEMPT YOU FOR HARRASSING US?!”

He leaves and you pull out a sharpie.

“Y/N NO!”

“…….biscuits-“

[jasntodds]

Penance [8]

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Words: 5,400

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, tiny bit of angst, fluff, mentions of death

Summary:❝Thesus: Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. Herakles: I fear to stain your clothes with blood. Thesus: Stain them. I don’t care.❞

It’s been a month and a half since Crane’s reign of terror was stopped, leaving Gotham to finally return to normal. But, what is normal? After everything Jason and you have been through, it seems normal might be some unobtainable dream state. But that’s not going to stop either of you from trying and maybe, you’ll get lucky in the end. At the end of it, the two of you have suffered enough, right?

Right?

A/N: I honestly just needed a little bit of a break from writing lol Anyway this has one of my favorite scenes in it and it's because it's cute and not angst for once lol You can add yourself to the tag list below, ask me to be tagged, or you can follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary  and turn on notifications if you prefer that!! I love feedback, I swear it keeps me posting on a weekly basis 😭

series masterlist | masterlist | tag list

You wake up with your alarm a few hours later. You're still drowsy in your eyes but your mind is wide awake, knowing you're going to see Jason today. And unlike the last week, this makes you smile from ear to ear with excitement and nerves. You aren’t under any obligation this time. Tim is gone and it’s just you and him. You aren’t training or patrolling. You're going shopping and working on his home. It feels normal.

You change three times before deciding on jeans and a Wayne Enterprises shirt, mostly because you expect to get dirty and you don’t want to ruin one of the shirts you actually like. Though, you hate admitting the WE shirt fits nicely and it’s a good color.

When you walk into the kitchen, Molly is seated with a sandwich on a plate and her laptop open. Molly's eyes glance up to you before she goes back to her work. You start kicking on a pair of Converse before you break the silence.

“I had sex with Jason last night.” You blurt out.

Molly shoots her attention back to you and blinks a few times. “You what?” Molly asks, unsure if she heard that right.

“I had sex with Jason.” You repeat as you get your second shoe on.

“Of course, you did.” Molly lets out a sigh and that's when she sees the hint of bruises that are very clearly hickies sticking out from the collar of your shirt.

You finally look back to Molly, brows tugging together. “Fuck you?” You question.

Molly leans back to stretch, as if preparing herself for the story you'll have. “You two can’t control yourselves.” Molly rolls her shoulders.

“Well—“ You suck in a breath. “Yeah…” You let out a sigh with a small grin. “Just thought I’d tell you.”

Molly sucks in a deep breath, pushing her laptop an inch away from her. “How did you manage to sleep with him?”

“Well, okay so Dick had this whole thing where we had to spar with blindfolds on, right?” You start and Molly gives you a nod. “Well, we took it up a notch at the Manor and we’d shut all the lights off and we’d have to spar and disarm each other but we’d also have to find each other using anything but our sight. Good practice. Well, we did that last night and then…”

“Something about you two hunting each other in the dark does it for the two of you?” Molly quips.

You offer Molly a quick glare before you cross your arms. “At this point, would it shock you?”

“No.” Molly sighs honestly.

“Exactly but no.” You scoff. “We were joking like we always do, yelling at each other through the dark, ya know? And then he fucking hid before a window so I had to step into the light and we sparred there and then…I don’t know.” You shrug before you lean on the wall beside you, shifting your weight to your left foot. “I just…kissed him.”

Molly nods her head. “And then?”

“He kissed me back and one thing led to another and we said it was a one-time thing.” You gesture a hand out haphazardly.

Molly lets out a groan and while she adores the both of you, she has to wonder how two people can be so stubborn in their ways. If you want to fall into something again, that's fine but Molly can't wrap her head around the logic the two of you are using to justify your silence around each other. The two of you like to overcomplicate your own feelings when it doesn't have to be that complicated.

"What?" You question, pulling out your phone to see a text from Jason saying he's on his way.

“Do you honestly believe this is a one-time thing?” Molly asks with a bite in her voice.

“No.” You say quietly.

“Do you want it to be a one-time thing?”

“No.”

“So fucking tell him.” Molly urges.

“I-I can’t.” You shake your head. "Not yet." Your eyes go to the floor before they find their way back to Molly. “What if he leaves again?” You ask quietly, your voice falling small.

Molly's shoulders slouch forward. "Just because of what you guys do, doesn't mean it has to end that way." Molly states softly and she does believe it. She knows what you do is dangerous and maybe one of you won't come home, but that isn't guaranteed.

"That's not what I mean." You shake your head quickly. "He died, yeah and that's a whole..." You suck in a breath. "That's a thing but then...he came back and he still left me standing on a rooftop. I begged him to not leave and then he did." You let out a sigh as you look back to the floor. "So, maybe things get too hard and he leaves again. On purpose. At least...at least if he dies it's because it's part of the job, greater good."

"He left to protect you." Molly states. "I know there's more to it because he never had to work with Crane, he could have talked to Dick, there were things he could've done. But, bottom line is that he left to protect you, not because he wanted to."

"Right, yeah, but Jason Todd tends to believe he's the worst person to walk the face of the earth." You push off of the wall with a breath. "I don't know. It's like...I want to tell him and then I think of another reason not to." You shake your head, checking the time on your phone before you pocket it again. "Want it to be right, don't want to scare him off, I don't wanna leave him." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I just want it to be right next time."

Molly nods with understanding and if she were being honest, she can't imagine your point of view of standing on the roof with Jason. You don't ask people to stay. You don't stay too often. For you to beg him and him to leave anyway, Molly can only imagine the devastation that ripped through you.

"So...what do you want to do then?" Molly asks.

You let out a soft laugh. "Honestly, I don't know but as long I'm with him...I think I'm okay with whatever it is. I'll get over it, ya know?" You nod. "Uh...Jason is getting me an appointment with Leslie so...maybe I'll just ask her and maybe...maybe I'll take some advice."

"Even if she tells you to talk to him?"

You let out a groan as a smile pulls at your lips. "It would be the right thing to do."

"It would." Molly agrees with a laugh. "For what it's worth, you've looked happier the last week than you have in over a month."

You feel heat rush over your cheeks. "He still makes me very happy." You scrunch your nose. "So, anyway, I will have a conversation with him soon but for now, just know last night was fun and I'm going to Home Depot to help him fix up his place."

Molly lets out a laugh. “Oh? You moving out?”

“Shut up, no.” You laugh softly. “Just helping him.”

Molly rolls her eyes with a smile, mentally making a note of the date because she's willing to bet you'll be back living with Jason within a few months of his place being finished.

"If you say so." Molly quips as she pulls the laptop back to her.

"Are you kicking me out?" You offer a fake pout as you make your way to the door.

"No." Molly chortles. "I just know you two."

"That's fair." You laugh back. "Okay, I'll be back later." You wave quickly before heading out of the door, locking it behind you.

By the time you exit the apartment building, Jason is already there. A black sports car is parked against the curb while Jason is leaning against the passenger door, looking at his phone with one hand in his pocket. A smile tugs at your lips seeing him. Jason catches a glimpse of the doors opening and you walking out from the tops of his eyes.

“Wayne Enterprises?” Jason chortles as he looks your way.

“Fuck off.” You threaten as you close the distance between you. “Figured we’d get dirty and I don’t wanna ruin a shirt I like...unlike you.” You look him up and down. He's wearing a black leather jacket, one you always said looked good on him and a pair of black jeans.

"I'm gonna change when we get back." Jason quips back.

You point to the car. “Bruce?”

“Yeah.” Jason looks to the car and back to you. “He’s back in town today, said I could borrow it long as I didn’t do anything stupid.” Jason lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “You could talk to him.” He suggests, trying to play it casual.

Jason knows Bruce is not exactly your favorite person but he would like for you to talk to him. Jason forgives him for everything and a lot of your anger towards Bruce is because of Jason. Bruce means a lot to him and you mean a lot to him. He just wants you to get along and Bruce said he's willing to talk with you and try to smooth things over. Jason won't say it, but it would mean a lot if the two of you could get along and get to a good place.

You quirk a brow at him, almost a look of disgusted confusion plastering itself across your features. “What?”

“Could talk to him.” Jason repeats himself.

“No.” You scoff. “Why would I do that?”

The way you see it, you have nothing to say to him. You warned him about Jason and the Joker and then Jason died because Bruce wouldn't listen. All Bruce had to do was listen to Jason, listen to you, or anyone and he didn't. Then after his death, he was still referring to it like it was some sort of war and Jason was a soldier, a sacrifice for a good cause as if he wasn't his son. Your fists ball at your sides the argument replaying in your head.

Jason shakes his head. “I did.”

“Because he’s your dad.” You state. “He’s always been…” You trail off trying to find the right way to phrase it because you want to say something about Bruce weaponizing two of the most important people to you and something about him getting Jason killed which spiraled into the effect of Dick and Tim getting killed. You want to tell him details of your arguments after he died but that would be cruel. “Not that to me.”

“He’s trying.” Jason states and he knows that if he wants to be with you, which he does, it would be a whole lot easier if you and Bruce got along. “Not fucking perfect or some shit, but…trying.”

“I’m glad he’s trying, Jay. Honest.” You nod as your eyes go soft. “I just don’t have anything to say to him.” You pull in a breath.

Jason knows getting you to sit down and have a conversation with Bruce is not going to be easy. You can hold a grudge better than anyone Jason has ever met. But, he knows it's all still a little fresh for you. He hopes after a little more time you can talk to him. Jason thinks you'd actually get along if you would give him a real chance but he also knows that's a lot easier said than done. If roles were reversed, Jason wouldn't be so forgiving either.

“You’re still using his credit card.” Jason chuckles.

“I’m mad at him, not stupid.” You let out a laugh.

“Just get in the car.” Jason states as he opens the passenger side for you.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You smile softly at him. “Thank you.”

The two of you head to Home Depot, Jason having made a list for supplies on his phone. You mostly get things like tools and drywall. You grab some outlet covers and plywood for some of the floors. Most of the house really isn’t in too bad of shape. It mostly needs a good clean and some paint. It’s only a handful of spots that need actual work done but it is nice you get to do this together.

After you get back, you get right to work working on the spare room. The drywall in that room needs to be replaced so you work on that before Jason moves onto some of the plumbing in one of the bathrooms, you taking it upon yourself to get to cleaning some of the upstairs. Jason plays a mixed playlist through the speakers, one he still has on his Spotify from when you were dating. It contains all of both of your favorite songs.

A few hours into it, Jason places an order for some food and once it’s delivered, the two of you take your seats in the main hallway downstairs, sitting on the floor. Jason sits with one leg tugged to his chest, eating his burger while you're seated cross-legged, eating the same as his just without the onion.

“Are you gonna paint?” You ask, looking around at the white walls.

“Walls are grimy as fuck.” Jason says with a mouth full of food. “Probably.”

You give him a grin. “You should paint one wall r—“

“I’m not painting the walls fucking red.” Jason lets out a booming laugh as he tilts his head back.

“But! It’s your color!” You cheer, the smile vibrant and happy. “Come on, it’ll look good! Just one wall.” Your eyes are wide and soft, cheerful and playful. Jason thinks he’s going to melt into the floor. He’d do anything to have you look at him like that all the time.

“Fine.” Jason agrees before stuffing a fry into his mouth. “One wall but I pick the shade.”

“Okay.” You beam, looking down at your food with a warm chest. You look back up to him before eating one of his fries, Jason blinking at you. That’s why he ordered a large instead of a medium. “And you should paint one wall blue.” You chime with a cheeky grin. “My blue, not Dick’s.” You laugh softly.

Jason bursts into a fit of laughter. “That’s a bit far, huh?” Jason questions.

“No! You have a wall and I have a wall! I’m helping so I think that’s only fair.” You bat your eyelashes at him with a toothy smile.

“So you think you get a whole damn wall cause you’re helping me fucking clean?”

“And because I’m your favorite vigilante!” You laugh and Jason thinks you're even cuter than you've ever been.

Happy looks good on you.

“Right.” Jason nods his head, resting his arm over his knee to lean in a bit. “And what makes you think that?”

“Well, it’s not Batman.” You chortle. “It’s not Dick because even if it were, you’d rather have a lobotomy than ever admit it. It’s not Conner because you don’t really know him well. It’s not Rachel. It’s not Superman just because he’s friends Bruce so on principle alone, it can’t be him.” You explain as Jason laughs.

Sam thinks he's laughed more in the last few minutes than he ever has. She'd do anything to keep him this happy.

Happy looks good on him.

“How many times have you thought about this?” Jason questions as he furrows his brows, a teasing grin pulling at his lips.

“Clearly, too many.” You suck in a breath. “I don’t really have a good reason for any other vigilante that I don’t know but I know it’s not them. So, really, I think my only competition is Kory and Gar because Kory is a badass and I mean…Gar.” You explain as you furrow your brows before your eyes soften at him with a gentle smile. “I still think I’m your favorite.”

Of course you are.

“All good points but you haven’t explained how you’re my favorite.” Jason teases you.

“Well, I let you sleep with me.” You fire back as Jason bursts into more laughter.

“That doesn’t fucking count.” Jason argues.

“Fine fine fine.” You shake your head. “Um…you trained me which you hold a lot of pride in.” You state. “You like my suit, clearly cause we both have hoods now. Half my damn name is literally yours.” You widen your eyes at him as you tilt your head side to side. “Because I’m your favorite.” You state with pride.

Jason shakes his head, his heart turning into a puddle of mush. He’s so in love with you. “Fine, you’ll be my favorite when I’m yours.” Jason teases back.

“Who says you’re not my favorite?” You argue.

“Krypto.” Jason answers without skipping a beat.

You tilt your head, laughing and it takes everything in him not to kiss you. “Yeah…he’s such a good boy!” You shake your head, taking another one of Jason’s fries. “You’re my second favorite though.”

Jason shakes his head. “Why?” He asks.

“Trying to get me to fill your ego?”

Jason gives you a cheeky smirk. “Can’t help myself.”

“Because you’re Jason Todd.” You answer simply. “That’s why you’re my favorite, not counting Krypto.”

Jason’s brows furrow. “What’s that mean?”

You shrug a shoulder. “Too many reasons list. You’re my favorite because you’re you.” You know it sounds a little like a copout but it's true. Jason Todd is your favorite person no matter the suit or lack thereof. It's always that simple to you.

Jason looks down, pushing the container of fries so it’s more in the middle of you. “One wall.” Jason looks back to you with a soft smile.

“Really?” You ask with hope in your eyes and Jason thinks he’d let you paint the whole place any color you wanted at this point.

“Gonna be here all the damn time anyway, right?” Jason asks.

It hasn't felt so lonely with you being around and it's not just because he's not alone physically. He never feels lonely when you're around. He feels at ease with you around and happy. He hopes you keep coming around even after you finish the house.

“Probably.” You nod quickly. “Yeah.” Your cheeks burn knowing it's true. Even if you won't intend to be around all the time, it is bound to happen if the pattern continues. Though, by the grin on his lips and the airiness of his voice, you don't think he minds. It always feels more like home when you're with him.

“Guess I could spare a few walls for you.” Jason offers a soft smile.

“Awfully nice of you, Jay.”

“I can be nice.” Jason finishes off his burger.

"You have your moments." You smile softly at him before scrunching your nose and taking another fry.

Over the next few days, the two of you continue cleaning and getting the home ready. It feels normal and happy. For once, it feels like the two of you don't have to have a care in the world as you work. And you don't even wonder what it would be like if you were actually together because you both know it would be just like this.

You're picking out an overall shade of the house and helping him pick out furniture, something he thinks would have happened anyway. Jason stocks shared food and drinks for the two of you and he says it's just because you've been helping him and you'll be by a lot anyway. It's not a big deal. You share the space without ever slapping a label on it and it feels comfortable.

Jason has also had his appointment with Leslie, asking her about you. She called you after Jason's appointment and now you have an appointment for the following week. You aren't too thrilled about it but if Jason is saying it's helping, the least you can do is try. Asking Jason to try all those months ago but not doing it yourself, makes you a hypocrite. You owe it to yourself.

The last few days have been nice and pretty easy but you're getting ready to leave your apartment now and Molly is standing in your doorway, watching you.

"Where are you going? You just got back and you don't patrol this early." Molly states as she watches you shove your backpack onto your back.

"Just out." You shrug your shoulders. "I'll be back in time for patrol." You go to walk past her but Molly blocks you.

"Where do you go when do this? Jason found you in an alley—"

"Is it a crime to go on a walk?" You question.

"It is for you, yes." Molly answers back. "You also always do it whenever something is wrong. Did something happen with Jason today?" Molly asks as you watch her face fall.

You put your hands on Molly's shoulders. "Nothing happened with Jason. We did what we usually do, worked on the house. I just have something I have to do." You close your eyes, knowing Molly isn't going to get off your back. "It just has to do with the case we're working. It's nothing, okay? I'm almost done anyway." You gesture for Molly to move.

Molly would never approve of what you're doing. Molly would tell Jason and then you'd tell Gar and Dick, next thing you would know you'd be sat in an intervention about your own self-destruction. They'd lecture about how unsafe it is and you're just punishing yourself, there are other ways. You're nearly rolling your eyes at the very thought of hearing the lecture. Even when you would defend yourself, they wouldn't believe it were just for the case. It just seems like a giant headache and a waste of time so you keep your mouth shut to Molly.

Molly moves slowly out of the way. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothing." You groan, not turning around to face her. "I'll be back after patrol." You state before you slide your shoes on.

"Are you in trouble?" Molly's voice grows small and quiet.

You look back to her. "No." You answer simply. "It's fine." You let out a sigh. "I'll be back." You open the door and leave without another word.

Molly watches the door close and she knows she shouldn't, but she reaches for her phone anyway. You've been better about not keeping secrets ever since you looped Molly into the vigilante world. You keeping this secret while offering next to nothing, has rubbed Molly the wrong way. Maybe if you kept your phone on, Molly wouldn't worry as much but considering you have a real fear of being kidnapped, Molly knows it's taking a lot for you to shut your phone off. It means you're up to something no one will approve of. So, she calls Jason.

"Wanna do me another favor?" Molly asks as soon as Jason picks up.

"I'm not hunting her down again, Molly." Jason says, knowing immediately what Molly was gonna ask.

Molly lets out a groan as she plops down at the kitchen table. "Look, I think she got herself into some trouble."

Jason closes his eyes but he knows you're someone who wants to handle your own trouble on your own and will, inevitably get in over your head. "What do you mean?" Jason caves.

Molly pauses for a few seconds trying to figure out how she can explain this to Jason without sounding paranoid. She's hoping his care for you will work in her favor.

"She goes out randomly, won't tell me, shuts off her phone, and today she did say it had to do with the case she's working." Molly explains.

The only weird thing in that entire sentence is your phone but Jason doesn't think that's enough of a reason. He's been doing this whole thing longer than both of you and sometimes, getting intel means it's gotta be kept quiet to everyone. If it has to do with the case, Jason's betting that's what you're doing, maybe don't want Molly involved to protect her. From where Jason is sitting, it actually seems pretty normal.

Jason lets out a sigh. "That's not a fucking reason to hunt her down." Jason states. "I'm not going. We're in a good place and I don't wanna fuck that up. I can't go stalking her around Gotham cause you're fucking worried she might be doing something weird."

"I know." Molly sighs in defeat. "I worry about you guys." Molly confesses. "Last time, please?" Molly pleads with him.

Jason gets up from his spot at the computers with a sigh. "You gotta get used to it, Molly." Jason states, keeping his voice level. "Worrying and shit, that's just part of it."

"I know." Molly nods her head. "Can't you just see where she's going?" Molly looks to the floor and lets out a breath. "I won't ask again unless I have a better reason."

Jason looks at his gear before he looks to the ceiling, knowing you're going to rip him a new one. "When did she leave?"

"Ten minutes ago."

"If she goes all Acid Fingers on me, I'm sending her to you." Jason states.

Molly smiles on the other end. "I can handle her."

Jason gets ready in his Red Hood gear, feeling a little guilty for agreeing to do this again. But, this will be the last time and he figures he'll just let you know about Molly's worrying so you can loop her in. Jason knows you're probably fine. You're smart and resourceful, if you get into trouble with whatever you're doing, you probably have some sort of backup plan for help. He's just doing this for Molly even if her worrying is rubbing off on him as he exits his building.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to find you. It's like he told Molly, you're a creature of habit. He found you near the alley you were in last time. Jason takes a roof of a nearby building and maybe this is wrong. You're perfectly fine, clearly, you're having a conversation with some man in a suit but the conversation doesn't look to be going sideways. You're fine but Jason decides to sit up on the roof and wait it out anyway. He doesn't listen in, he just watches a bit. At the end of the day, you're still meeting up with a random guy in an alley. You're paranoid on a good day, so that's weird. That's what Jason tells himself to justify his spying on you.

Once the man walks out of the alley, Jason uses his grappling hook to make his way down to you. The movement gathers attention and you immediately grab a knife from your pocket as you look up. Instead of something horrible, you see Jason. Your grip loosens as you roll your eyes. The annoyance isn't directed at him because Jason doesn't stalk you unless he's given a reason. The reason seems always to be Molly.

"What're you doing?" You question once Jason is standing with his feet on the ground.

"Who was that?" Jason asks, nodding his head towards the end of the alley where the man walked off.

"Jealous?" You quip as you cross your arms over your chest.

You can't see it, but Jason deadpans behind the helmet. "Of that fuck?" Jason scoffs. "Fuck no." Jason scans you over and you look fine, other than mildly annoyed.

Despite the annoyance, there is a part of you that does appreciate him checking in on you. You know Molly sent him and even if Jason was certain you were fine, he did it to put Molly at ease which is nice. If you were in Jason's shoes, you'd be doing the same thing so you can't get too mad at him. If you were being honest, you can't get too mad at Molly either.

"So?" You raise your brows and gesture a hand out to him, waiting for him to give you an explanation.

"Don't shoot the messenger." Jason puts his hands up in defense.

You roll your eyes. "Molly, really?"

"She's worried about you." Jason states, the voice modulator hiding a tint of worry in his own voice.

"I'm fine, Red." You gesture a hand over yourself. "See?"

You make a mental note to have a sit down with Molly because you can't be asking Jason to track you down whenever she's worried. What Molly doesn't understand is that you and Jason are both prepared for when something goes wrong. Molly knows you have your failsafes but that doesn't seem to put her mind at ease very much. The more you're thinking about it, knowing Jason has one doesn't put you at much ease either.

Jason nods his head but he's not willing to let it rest. "Can't fucking blame her when you're the one being ominous as fuck about what you're doing."

"I'm just getting some intel." You state casually. "It's really not a big deal."

If it weren't a big deal, you would tell Molly. Jason knows there has to be more to it. You're being too secretive about it but it's not exactly his place to badger you about it. It's your case, not his even if you agreed you'd kind of work your cases together. It's still yours and you were trained the same way he was. He's just worried about you and now he knows how you felt when he was Robin. It's not fun worrying about the person you care about all the time.

"You sure that's all it is?" Jason questions and receives a nod from you. "Why not tell Molly?"

You shrug softly and you really don't have an answer outside of the truth. "Um...it's not...the same case I've been working." You confess and Jason's stomach starts to twist.

"What the hell did you get into?" Jason nearly demands as worry starts to tug at his bones.

You close some of the distance between you, lightly grabbing his forearms in your hands. "Nothing, I swear. It's not anything bad or dangerous." You urge as your eyes meet the whites of his helmet. "I know that sounds like bullshit but I promise, it's not."

Jason's eyes are scanning over your features and you're not lying to him but somehow that doesn't reassure him. You not being in danger should rid the anxiety wanting to melt from his flesh but all he does is grow more confused.

"Not very reassuring." Jason quips.

You chew the inside of your cheek as you drop your hands. "Can you trust me, please?" You plead with him and you can't see it, but his features soften under the helmet.

"You get into any shit, you'll tell me, right?" Jason asks.

You nod and offer him a soft smile. "Yeah, of course but it's not that kind of case. I'll tell you when I can, promise." You nod again and your smile seems to turn sad.

"Alright." Jason sighs.

"I always have my knives and if I'm ever in a bad enough situation, I will burn someone. I got it."

Jason nods and he rests a hand on your hip lightly. "Sorry for stalking you." A chuckle leaves his lips.

"Yeah, you weirdo." You snicker. "It's okay. I'd do the same." You beam up at him, getting you a laugh from Jason.

"You would." Jason quips back. Jason swallows thickly. "Hey, are you sure you couldn't talk to the Bat?"

You shake your head as if doing a double take. "Why do you want me to talk to him so bad?"

Jason shrugs trying his best to play it off as something that doesn't matter too much. "You two not getting along is bound to cause a problem, rather not deal with it."

"I don't have anything to say to him, Red." You urge once more and the very thought of talking to Bruce makes you want to scream.

"Is it because of what happened?" Jason asks.

"No." You answer honestly. "There's more. I don't wanna get into it." You pull in a breath and you wish you could see his face. "I'm sorry but...I can't."

You can't see it, but Jason's face falls into something between disappointment and defeat.

"It's alright, worth a shot." Jason clears his throat and you feel the guilt bubbling into your throat. "Meet up for food later?" Jason changes subject.

"Always." You nod quickly, offering a small smile that never reaches your eyes. "Two?"

"Meet you at Excellent Gotham? I'll pick something up."

"Sounds good." You beam up at him. "Be careful, Red." Your eyes narrow slightly before you scrunch your nose. "I'm gonna go home to get read and I'll be out."

"Want an escort?" Jason offers with a subtle squeeze to your hip.

"I'm okay, but thank you." You smile softly at him before you pull away. "Okay, I'll meet you at two. I'll text you." You grin back at him before you spin on your heels and head down the end of the alley.

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[g00d--m0urning]

Unnamed Pt. 1 (Daryl Dixon x AFAB!reader)

Part two

This is my first time writing in a long ass time, so please, feel free to leave criticism.

word count: 3208

Summary: ex-cop!Reader's world is rocked thrice over when Daryl Dixon breaks up with them, they discover their pregnant and the world goes to shit in the span of a few months. A/N: this is gender neutral, no other pronouns but you/your used. Reader is obviously AFAB since they get pregnant. Also this first part is hella slow. Basically just getting background out of the way. No y/n used. (No smut, angst? IDFK)

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Being a cop whilst dating a criminal is… well, interesting, to say the least. And in both of your defenses, Daryl’s not, like, a murder or anything, just petty theft and trespassing and the occasional assault charge (they never go further than a slight fine, it’s a small town in Georgia, nobody gives two fucks). The problem is the eldest Dixon--Merle, the GD bane of your existence--the dumbass is constantly dragging Daryl into his shit (drugs, to be clear) and the youngest refuses to stop riding along with him. No matter how hard you try, therefore, it's a constant point in arguments; much like this one.

“You can tell him no!” you shout exasperatedly, for probably the millionth time tonight.

The ‘him’ in question is Merle Dixon, and the needed ‘no’ is Daryl refusing to ride along to one of his drug crusades. You weren’t even supposed to know about this run, Daryl kept that part of his life separate, per your request, keeping from having to turn either Dixon in, as your academy oath swore. However, the FBI had gotten wind of this trade--something about some cartel being included--and they started sniffing around in search of making a bust and you really didn’t need your boyfriend in federal prison for being associated with that.

“Nah, I can’t!” Daryl shouts right back, smacking his hand against the shitty, peeling folding table he calls a dining table.

This has been going on for probably almost an hour now; you push, he pulls and it just turns into a vicious circle. It had started as an earnest plea, asking him kindly not to go on this run and he just scoffed, continuing to scarf down the three-day-old leftovers you heated up. Now it’s this screaming match, one you’re both tired of. You go to open your mouth to ask why, but he raises a hand, cutting you off like he can read your mind (he can’t, you’ve just had this same argument so many times, you can predict the exact words to come out of each other’s mouth).

“He’s family, been there for me mah whole life,” he hasn’t, he’s been in and out of jail his whole life, but ok. “Least I can do ‘s be there for a simple run, done it a thousand times.”

You just groan in response, pinching the bridge of your nose as you pace, just trying to figure out what to say. How to change his mind. There’s a simple answer, you can’t; if there’s one thing you learnt almost immediately in this relationship is that once the Dixon mind is made up, it’s made up.

“What?” he barks, clearly annoyed by your annoyance.

“Nothing, D.” you mutter, shaking your head at this whole situation.

He huffs at that, knowing it’s not ‘nothing,’ but not wanting to know what it truly is, it’d just stoke the fire. Being the pouty baby he is, Daryl plops into a folding chair, the old hinges creaking at the intense weight add, crossing his arms over his chest. If you weren’t so mad, you’d find the scowl on his face and the way his muscles bulge attractive. A loaded silence falls over the two of you; the neighbor’s dog barks at something, presumably the car that can be heard driving across the old gravel road, a door slams, and cicadas chirp, having come back to enjoy the southern summer heat.

“You know what? No--” you set your hands on the table, putting a stop to your pacing as you look over at Daryl, something indiscernible clouding your face.

“What’re ya--” he starts, sitting up in the chair, cutting himself off as you butt in before he can finish.

“It’s not nothing, Dixon. This--” a quick gesture to the air between the two of you, “isn’t ‘nothing.’ You insisting on going on your idiot brother’s crusades isn’t ‘nothing.’ And I get that he’s family, I do, but you shouldn’t have to throw your life away to repay whatever debt you think you owe him for sticking around!”

You’re the one to get cut off this time, being silenced as he scoffs, abruptly standing up from his chair, anger evident on his face, maybe even a hint of betrayal if you looked real close.

“Fuck that’s supposed ta’ mean?” he asks, brows furrowing as he steps closer to you.

“What’s what supposed to mean?” you ask back, confused by his sudden reaction. You didn’t think you said anything wrong, just expressed a very correct opinion.

“Ya think ‘m throwing mah life away?--ain’t like I got much ahead of me, right? Not like you do, right?” he puts extra emphasis on that last right, rounding the table to stand in front of you.

Another constant topic brought up in arguments--him thinking he’s got no life ahead of him other than ending up dead or deadbeat like his parents and you, having been dealt a much better card of hands in life, having much more planned for you. No matter how much you tried to convince him he could do so much more than be a lackey for his shithead brother, he denies and you guys end up ignoring each other for days until one of you cracks.

“Well, newsflash, all of us ain’t got some shiny future waitin’ for us. Some of us got a life being a ‘lackey’ or whateva you said, fancy pants. And ‘m sorry if that ain’t good enough for ya.’” he states, invading your space inch by inch as he mocks your words.

“That’s not--that’s not what I meant. You know that’s not what I meant!” you stammer, panic slowly beginning to boil beneath the anger. If you thought he, or his family situation, or anything about him, wasn’t good enough for him you wouldn’t have put in the almost two years being his friend and another two and a half dating his stubborn ass. He continues his encroachment until you’re toe to toe,

“Sure as hell sounded like it’s whatcha meant,” he snarls, rubbing at the scruff he has yet to shave before straightening his posture, looking away for a moment. He sucks at his teeth, huffing before he looks straight at you, something you can’t make out clouding his face, “I think you should leave.”

Your face falls, tears slowly welling in your eyes as the words leave his mouth. He’s not kidding, nor was it some sort of freudian slip, he wants you out. It seems different this time, too; not some enraged get out that gets resolved with rough make up sex, or the more tearful one that usually ends with sobbing in each other's arms.

This, this is different. He doesn’t look angry, there’s no tears clawing their way through his stubborn ducts, he’s just… blank. No emotion, other than that stubborn Dixon resolution. This feels like a breakup.

“Fine, I’ll leave.” you huff, taking in a shaky breath as you turn on your heel to make the short trek to the front door. Shoes are haphazardly shoved on, the tongue stuck under your foot and laces shoved in, and your phone and keys shoved into a pocket as you head out the door, slamming the screen door shut behind you.

You don’t bother looking back, not wanting to risk the tears falling, until you hear the broken door of the Dixon trailer jimmied shut. A few tears slip from your eyes, angrily swiping at the wet streaks before continuing down the ‘driveway’ to your car.

Maybe if you stayed inside another minute you could’ve seen the tears glassing over Daryl’s eyes. Or maybe if you stayed outside another minute you would’ve heard the sound of another hole being punched into the wall of the Dixon trailer that continues out of sight as you drive away.

A few days pass by, no contact between you two, letting each other cool down; at least you thought. It’s about a week before you try talking to him the first time, having stopped by the car shop he works at to bring him lunch (a BLT from the greasy dinner, the one next to the even greasier motel near the edge of town). The only response you got was a sideways glare before he huffed and returned to fixing the neighbor’s old pick up, leaving you to put his sandwich on his toolbox and walk back to the station.

Another three days pass before you try again, approaching him in the rundown bar, but again, he ignores you, turning away and slipping into the crowd Merle had gathered. You don’t want to be desperate, but you try calling him a few times, no response to all four calls. As a week turns to two and two to three, your attempts become less and less often.

Around week four is when you got the letter; your application to attend the new agent training for the FBI has been approved. Holy-fucking-shit. You read the letter over and over until the words turn to blurry specks you can no longer decipher and that’s when the nausea kicks in, heaving into the bushes by your mailbox. You write it off as stress sickness, between your breakup and now this; I mean, it’s a big deal, going from beat cop in bumfuck Georgia to a possible FBI agent in Virginia.

You wait on the decision, debating if you want to uproot the life you’ve set up here, getting sick a few more times in the process. You try calling Daryl after a few days of thinking to no avail as he doesn’t answer; that helps you make your decision, handing in your badge the next day and spending the last few days of the week packing your stuff into a u-haul.

You stand on the last step of your shitty porch, staring at the even shittier two room house you’ve called home for the last five years, tears welling in your eyes as you think back to the memories. They’re not all good, not all bad either, and the longer you stand there the more you regret your decision, so you wipe away the few tears that slipped down your cheeks and turn away.

Away from the house, down the step and down the uneven pavement you call a driveway and to your car. You open the door of your baby (a lovely ‘69 Chevy Impala you got from an old lady a few years back), taking one more look back before sliding into the driver’s seat and starting the car: starting your new life.

Settling into your new apartment in Virginia wasn’t as hard as you thought it was going to be; honestly it was a breeze. The whole move was a breath of fresh air, it's nice being in a city where you don’t have to worry about everyone knowing everything about you. The only bad part is you still feel like crap--physically, not mentally, or not really--you’ll have to find a doctor soon anyway, the FBI academy requires your health records and you do not remember the last time you had your shots.

It’s about a week before the academy starts, so you decide it’s time to get to the hospital and get everything checked out. The doctor you booked with seems nice enough when you get there, going through a routine checkup: reflexes, blood pressure, weight, shot records and updates, all that lovely medical stuff.

“So, dear, I’m all done, unless you have any concerns of your own?” the doctor asks, tapping a manicured nail against her desktop as she looks up at you through thin framed glasses.

“Uh, yeah, actually, these past few weeks I’ve felt pretty nauseous. I don’t think it’s anything, just the stress from my move and all, but I wanted to make sure before I started work.” you tell her, a faint blush painting your cheeks under her gaze; normally you could never admit something like that, not without it getting out and people forming all sorts of conspiracies.

“Hm… Well, you’re healthy as a horse, so you’re probably not sick. It most likely is the stress.” she tells you, standing up, her heels tapping as she moves in front of you, red painted lips pursing in a thin line, “Is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

“W-what? No. No, there’s absolutely no way I could be preg--” you stammer, trailing off as you think back to about two months ago. You and Daryl had been drunk off your asses, desperate, sloppy..

“Here, the bathrooms down the hall and to the left.” she hands you a pregnancy test with a chuckle, clearly oblivious to your inner panic. “And don’t worry, this kind of thing happens all the time.”

You have to hold back the urge to glare at her when you get up from the chair, annoying hospital paper crinkling beneath you. How can she just play this off like it’s nothing? It’s not nothing, you could be pregnant! This could fuck everything up, you can’t attend FBI academy whilst pregnant.

Squatting awkwardly over the toilet so you can piss on the stick while simultaneously managing not to miss the bowl, you hum to yourself as you actively avoid meeting your own gaze in the awkwardly placed full length mirror. You finish, quickly tossing the pee-stick into the sink and deal with the rest of your business before pacing the bathroom as you wait the longest three minutes of your life.

Your phone is in and out of your pocket, continually checking the time until three minutes have finally passed; thank god. You grab a paper towel, reach in the sink and grab the test, trying to find the courage to look at the results. Before you can psych yourself out you look, your heart sinking as you stare at the two pink lines glaring up at you.

You feel sick, you are sick, apparently; there’s a full ass human growing in you. As you gag over the toilet the doctor knocks on the door, slowly pushing it open. An apparent sympathetic expression reading her brows as she moves to gently rub your back. She sits with you until your stomach is emptied, the only thing falling into the toilet being tears.

“It’ll be ok, honey, it will. No matter what you decide.” she tells you as you both exit the bathroom, having spent a good ten minutes sitting on the floor dreading the future. You haven’t a clue what she means by ‘no matter what you decide’ until she passes you a pamphlet for an abortion clinic, offering you a pity smile as you leave the room.

The rest of the day is a blur, between swinging moods between rage and depression it’s hard to keep track of when what happened. You can’t go back to Georgia, you don’t want to go back to Georgia, but what’s going to happen? You know absolutely nobody and your plans have been utterly fucked. So, what? Get rid of the kid? Maybe? No. Maybe… No. Just get a job, raise a kid, yep, sure; this has to be the worst thing ever.

Surprisingly the next month of pregnancy isn’t horrible, you snagged a desk job at the local police department, and you’ve been setting roots down. The doctor--Lillian, you learn, the doctor from before--has been a big help, a friend, you’d consider her; she has a kid of her own with her wife and has been coaching you through your first trimester of growing an unnamed fetus growing within you.

You’re sitting pretty in your OB/GYN’s office, waiting for her to come in and do your four month ultrasound and tell you the gender, which you hope is some because if you have to listen to anymore of the incessant drone of the news anchor you might go insane.

Finally she walks in, all chipper smiles and pink gloves as she wheels the ultrasound machine in behind her. The gel is cold, making you hiss as it’s smeared across your stomach, the tech chuckling at the reaction.

“Do you have any names picked out yet?” she asks, getting the machine all kicked up and ready. She tuts playfully, as you shake your head no, waving a hand through the air. “Well, no pressure, I had a friend who didn’t pick a name until her kid was crowning.”

You cringe at that, finding it to be way too much information; if there’s one thing you know for certain, it’s that you’re getting a c-section. Natural birth seems scary as shit.

“Are you excited to find out the gender?” is the next question asked as she drags the transducer across your stomach, trying to pinpoint the child. You shake your head again, a ‘yes’ this time.

“Yeah, I am. I don’t have a preference, but I figured knowing the gender would take a little stress off, knowing what to buy and all.” you tell her, pulling a chuckle from both of you. She nods in agreement, cheering quietly as she finally finds the baby.

“In that case, I am happy to tell you that you are having a…” she moves the wand around a little more, squealing happily, seemingly having found the right angle, “girl, it’s a girl! Congrats!” she beams, reaching around to press the print button on the machine.

A sigh leaves your lips as you stare up at the black and white blob that is your baby; a baby girl apparently. Wow. You smile as she hands you the pictures, ‘Congratulations’ scrawled on the bottom of the film.

You can’t seem to find words as the doctor hands you a paper towel to wipe the excess gel off, her head wiggling as she celebrates on your behalf. She busies herself with cleaning everything up as you pull your pants pack on properly, ready to leave the room before something catches your attention.

There’s a red banner rolling at the bottom of the TV, words flashing ‘breaking news.’ You tap the doctor’s shoulder, asking her to turn the volume up on the TV. Her face falls at the sight, nodding as she clicks the volume up several notches.

“Breaking news, multiple reports of a virus outbreak have been recorded in the last several hours. There has been little comment from the government--Wait, one moment please,” is the only thing you manage to hear before a loud and annoying blare emits from the TV, “This is not a drill, I repeat this is not a drill,” and back to the news guy.

“This just in, cities are going on lockdown, soldiers invading hospitals and the government is advising everybody to stay in their homes. Do not try leaving your city, stay at home or indoors. There has been an outbreak. I repeat--” what the fuck? You listen to the spiel again, trying to wrap your head around what he’s saying.

A nurse rushes in, ushering you out of the room and out the front door, bidding you good luck. There’s already panic starting in the streets; people are flooding stores and cars jamming the streets.

You know how you said being pregnant was the worst thing ever? Scratch that.

[penvisions]

zest {chapter two}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Professor! Reader (formally known as Bartender! Reader)

Summary: Encounters with people from the past, a breakdown, a physical altercation, and an end of the semester getaway all bring you closer to Joel.

Word Count: 4k:

Warnings: canon typical violence (fleeting), canon typical language, canon typical angst, generational trauma, religious trauma, feelings of isolation and loneliness, reader goes briefly catatonic, reader has a breakdown, reader has a lot of emotions, blood, minor injuries, falling apart on the bathroom floor (i know i've been there), rude people, offensive behavior, body shaming, fat shaming, reader gets shoved one (1) time, feral joel, joel beats the crap out of someone, joel goes into protective mode, threatening words, um i think those are all the major ones pls let me know if i need to add more!

REMINDER: this is a sequel series, the previous series can be found here {garnish}

A/N: uh, so the opening scene of this is very reflective of how i've been feeling lately. generational trauma + close quarters living situation with a mother who i have a complicated relationship with + trying to pick myself back up after what seems like an entire year of intense events and emotions + the recent drama i faced on here + preparing to move across the country in three weeks' time= a very very emotional dev. apologies for that, sincerely. hopefully the rest of the chapter makes y'all excited to read about them again.

ao3 link || series masterlist || joel miller masterlist || ko-fi

The trip gets marked down on the calendar at the restaurant as well as the one in the kitchen of your home. Ellie had been rifling through the pantry when she noticed it and she immediately whipped her phone out and snapped a photo before letting out a suspicious cackling laugh.

“Hey, what are you doing?” She jumps, completely blindsided by you walking in from the backyard, the sliding door hushing shut behind you. You had decided to get some sun while you worked on the last few finals that needed to be graded. The laptop you need to desperately replace closed and held to your side as you cross the space to set it atop the dining table. When you turn to look back at her, Ellie’s phone is mysteriously gone and she’s coolly watching you.

“Just lookin’ for something to eat, I’m staaaaarving!”

“Joel’s getting stuff for dinner, if you want to stay. But I was gonna sneak that last piece of pie if you wanna share it with me?”

“I’ll get it, just sit and take it easy.”

“I swear, all you Millers are the same. I’m fine, Ellie, only two months along.”

“Just lemme be nice, will ya?”

“Being nice to me won’t change your grade.”

“So it needs to be….better, right? When you say changed? As in an A plus plus?”

“All I can disclose is that you passed.”

“The course or the final?”

“Both.”

“Fuck yeah!”

The funky song for Joel’s ringtone goes off and you reach for it from the pocket of your sweatpants. It had been a bare minimum effort day for you, stealing one of the man’s shirts and donning a pair of baggy bottoms despite the heat, a chill having settled in your bones out of nowhere.

“Your daughter is cussing at me.” She’s waving her arms across the kitchen, signaling for you to stop and you wonder if she hadn’t told him if she needed help with groceries this month.

“Well, the fuck are you doin’ to her?” Is his cheeky response, you can hear the grin in his voice, and it makes you smile as you look down at the pile of stuff that needs your attention.

“Being nice.”

“Uh-huh, you two are- oh excuse me, didn’t see ya there. Oh. Uh, darlin’, I’ll call you back.” You faintly hear her name as the line drops and your heart goes with it.

Valerie.

Ellie settles across form you with the pan that holds the pie, whip cream added all around it and some chocolate syrup. But you don’t even smell the assault of sugar as a feeling of dread overwhelms you makes your stomach tighten. You’re unable to hear her concerned calls of your name, of her claims to have just been joking and she didn’t mean to upset you. They don’t register as you leave everything behind at the table and tread up the stairs and close yourself in the master bathroom.

“Sabrosa?” Joel’s voice is low on the other side of the door, but you can’t muster up a response. The rosary your grandmother had made you wear every Sunday and Wednesday to services tight in your grip as you sit on the fluffy rug you had convinced Joel you needed to cover the tiles in the bathroom. You feel it ingrained into your skin, if you were to get up, indentations of the texture would begin to itch from how long you had been settled atop it.

“Darlin’? You in here?” The handle to the door jiggles a little, signalling his attempt at coming in. He calls your name, worry lacing his gravely voice and making your insides clench that you were pulling such a reaction from him. He’s knocking on the door, but you can’t bring yourself to answer, consumed by the thought of being completely and utterly alone. Tommy’s questions about family circling in your head, the realization that Joel had voiced about the guests for the eventual wedding that you weren’t sure was even going to happen because he hadn’t asked you yet.

You had no family, none that would show up even if you did send out invitations. But Joel…Joel had family. A mother, a brother, two daughters, a sister in law, a nephew…the mother of his first born child.

Tears well up again, hot as they race down your cheeks, tender from the way you had been pressing your palms to them, your nose is raw from rubbing tissues against it to wipe away snot and the ugliness of your emotions. Your lips were swollen from the way you worried them with your teeth, unable to help the actions as you broke into pieces on the bathroom floor of the man whose child you carried in your belly.

The knocking turns into thudding, his shoulder colliding with the wood of the door now but still you can’t get your voice to work. The thought of him running into someone he knows on an intimate level, who he still carried some form of love for hurting deep in your chest. It’s all so much, the edges of the cross dig into your palm as you clench around the blessed glass. You hear it crunch faintly, feel the sting of it as it slices your skin open, the blood dripping down your arm as you hang it from your propped up knees.

Splitting wood sounds and it’s so loud it should jostle you from your catatonic state, but it doesn’t. Not even the door thudding into the inside wall of the bathroom as Joel’s form shoves it out of his way rouses you, the lock now broken, and the knob barely connected to the door as it hangs from where he must’ve kicked it in.

You can’t see him through your tightly clenched eyes as he falls to his knees in front of you, his arms coming around you as he sees you huddled into yourself on the floor. He’s murmuring something, but you can’t hear it over the ringing in your ears. Hurtful words and judgments in the voice of your stepmother echoing and bouncing off of each other. He’s burring his nose into your hair, pulling you into him as he settles down in front of you, tugging your limp body into his lap and cradling you close.

He's shouting now, though there’s no anger in his tone, no heat to his words as he begs with you to come back to him, to say something, anything. You can’t see anything when you do open your eyes, his arms so tight around you, your face held into his chest by the back of your head. One large hand tangled into your hair. You hear a small voice from the doorway, asking if someone needs to be called because there’s blood.

Something is dripping onto you, and it confuses you as you begin to descend back into your body. Tears are dripping from Joel’s chin, raining down onto your forehead and the feeling reminds you of being blessed with holy water, but you’ve never felt less deserving of such an act. The christening of his tears doesn’t bring anything but shame as you try to pull your face away from the fabric of his shirt that smells so much like everything you’ve ever wanted. He’s looking down at you as you manage to tilt your head up and meet his glistening eyes. Your mouth feels dry, tongue made of cotton as you try to soothe him, soothe the hurt you’ve caused. But all that manages to sprout from your chest is a whimper, your hand suddenly on fire as you feel the damage done by the rosary.

He's gently prying your hand from where both are curled into your chest, causing your breath to huff out as his thick fingers shakily unfold your own to reveal the glass imbedded into your skin. Blood smearing across his skin as he touches your own.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I think we need to take you to the emergency room for this.” His eyes meet yours and you feel monumentally worse for the fear and concern you see swirling in them. They’re rimmed red from his tears, his face flushed from his efforts to get to you through the door, his breathing a labored staccato as you realize his heart is beating harshly in his heaving chest. He’s trying to be calm, he’s trying to focus on the one thing he can do something about in that moment: to get the blood to stop dripping down your arm.

He’s reaching for the hand towel on the counter but Ellie’s stepping into the room to hand it to him so he doesn’t jostle you too much. She’s quiet, her earlier mood completely gone and it’s all because of you. A hiss passes through your lips as Joel carefully extracts the unbroken part of the cross from your palm, the beaded chain dragging across your forearm as he hands it to Ellie, she has a washcloth ready to wrap it up in, to try and keep the remainder of it safe. She’s frowning, face so serious as she watches her father hold you on the floor.

“I-I’m so-sorry.” You hiccup as you feel more tears well up, but Joel is gently shushing you as he presses his lips to your forehead, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. The towel is being pressed to your hand, light pressure hurting even though you know he’s doing his best to be as careful as possible.

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, got a little overwhelmed is all. It’s okay, you’re okay.”

“I-I don’t know what happened, I just- you- I…” Words don’t make sense, nothing could explain the wave of intense emotion that had slammed into you. All over the uttering of a name.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to or can’t.” Joel’s gently tying the towel into a knot to keep it secure. “We gotta get you up, get you into the truck. Can you feel your legs or would you rather me carry you, it don’t matter to me. Don’t want to push your body anymore, okay?”

“I…I think I can stand up.” But when he tries to help you do so, the fuzzy feeling in your legs doesn’t allow for you to. He’s already got an arm around your waist, the other holding your non-injured hand, ready to catch you when it happens. He’s warm, so warm when he quietly murmurs to you as he bends his knees and lifts you up into his arms. Securing yourself with one arm over his shoulder, the other rests in the curve of your lap as he descends the stairs and loads you up into the truck.

“Gonna set you down and run back downstairs for somethin’, okay? I’ll be right back, I promise.” Joel’s voice is so soft, so close as he brushes the end of his nose over yours as he lays you down on the freshly made bed. He’s careful as he pulls back the covers on your side, exposing the soft micro plush blanket between the comforter and the fitted sheet. He angles the pillows exactly how you prefer before he scoops you back up in his arms and lays you in the spot. The blankets are laid over you, body pliant and willing under his touch as the medicine from the hospital works its way through your system. A mild sedative, fluids, and a shot of pain killers had all been administered in an IV.

He's smoothing your hair from your face with a brush of his hand before he kisses the corner of your mouth and disappears through the doorway. Your eyes follow him and then glide to the door of the bathroom. But the splintered wood and broken knob are gone, a new door in its place. You feel your lower lip tremble and you tuck your face into the pillow as you roll slightly to your side and face his part of the bed.

Your favorite candle is burning, the rich honey and cotton blossom scent filling the room in a soothing caress. Ellie had followed in her car, a bag of clothes you typically lounged in warm from a spin in the dryer. An oversized Miller contracting short, faded black and dulled yellow wording. A pair of sweats that didn’t have blood stains all over it. A pair of your thick hiking socks to keep the chill of the hospital away as you lay there for hours while the nurses poked and prodded at you, ensuring the health of you and your baby was okay.

Neither her nor Joel mentioned the exact details of the state they had found you in, knowing the state’s penchant for tossing mentally ill patients into the building just down the road, the inpatient behavioral health center. It was known for its mandatory seventy-two hour holds on people dumped or transferred there, lack of communication and lack of funding making it a nightmare to emerge before a week is up and your entire life is upended. It had a bad reputation, to say the least, and no one wanted to have to fight for your release should the doctor sign you over.

The smell of fresh coffee wafts up the stairs before Joel appears back in the doorway with two mugs, decaf. He had agreed that it would be better for your niggling headaches and nausea to compromise on this version of your preferred drink versus the jarring switch to tea for ever morning and evening. It was more than a way to get your caffeine, it was comfort in a cup and Joel carefully hands the one he doesn’t set aside to you. His large hands are cupped around yours as he helps you to bring the rim up and take a sip from it.

“Figured the real thing would be better right now. But just the one cup, okay baby?” His voice is raspy from his yelling, you realize, and you flick your eyes over the mug to find them already trained on you.

“Th-thank you.”

“Anythin’ for you, you know that.” He’s pulling the mug from you and places it beside his on your bedside table. He’s caught off guard when you fling your body toward him, settling in his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his neck. His little ‘oof!’ of surprise loud in the silent room.

“It’s okay,” He whispers as he presses his face into your hair. The stitches beneath gauze and bandages sting a little as you pull back to press your palms to his chest.

“I…I got overwhelmed…” You can’t meet his eyes, gaze focused on his bottom lip. Trying to ground yourself in the moment, the pink of it from him worrying the skin as he held your non-injured hand throughout the entire visit, the way it forms part of the face you love, how it tastes against your own, how it feels against your skin. All of it was helping you to stay in the moment, the medications beginning to make you a bit dizzy now that you’re safely in your shared space with him once again.

“Nothin’ wrong with that, I promise.” He’s still whispering, afraid of being too loud, of startling you or spooking you. “We’re here for you, no matter what.”

“My head feels funny…” You sway in his grip, his large hands holding your back through the motion.

“Let’s get you to bed, you’re probably a little stoned, mama.”

You only hum in response as he lays you down against the pillows, his nose brushing over yours as he lays over you, hovering to not put any of his weight on you as he balances on his elbows and knees. A long blink and you’re looking into his eyes, seeing the concern and worry swirling in them. Adoration and love in them as he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your chapped lips.

“I love you so much, please- please don’t ever forget that, darlin’.”

“Won’t.”

His lips are trailing down your chin, pressing underneath your jaw, down the side of your neck, one of his hands sneaking below the fabric of your loose shirt to rest over your heart. The warmth of his skin and the feeling of him pressed close as he settles down between your legs now feels like home. He’s still moving lover, his lips ghosting over your collarbones over the shirt, the slight swell of your stomach.

“Love you both so much.” He’s looking up as he uses his other hand to expose the bump that is your baby, a silent question. At your small nod and fluttering eyelashes, his lips pepper kisses all over the skin of your stomach, your ribs, before he finally shifts a little to rest his cheek against the bump and breathes in deep. You’re asleep before he even exhales.

The city of Austin on either side of the highway is a blur as Joel guides the truck at a fast pace away from the hustle and bustle of where you share your lives. A week away, to Dallas, as promised that one morning when he had been trying to sooth your worries. A prominent theme that you try not to feel ashamed of, something he said he would do every day t0 assert the love he has for you. Would always have for you.

He’s got a hand on your thigh, the fabric of your sundress rucked up slightly but he’s not teasing or playing games. You’re sipping the last of your clear soda from a fast-food lunch a few hours back when you had just gotten loaded up and on the road.

There’s a small notebook in your lap with a list of things you wanted to check out. Some Joel had spent evenings looking into with a pair of thick rimmed glasses on the edge of his nose as you slept soundly beside him. He marked the free ones and then the ones with exhibits you had fawned over. He always admired the way you talked about things that interested you, even if he didn’t understand the first thing about any of it. The way your eyes light up as you paused movies to talk about certain historical facts or the fun facts you had to share with him in those moments. He wouldn’t trade them for anything, relishing in the way you weren’t nervous or afraid to voice the thoughts that sprung up. He was looking forward to seeing it happen as you guided him through exhibits and to see the excitement and happiness he hoped this trip would bring you both.

His hands are on the steering wheel now, the sight of you slightly slumped back and just watching the world pass by through your sunglasses making him glance down at where yours are lax beside the notebook.

The bandage is still there on your hand, from that terrifying moment he had found you crumpled and shut down on the bathroom floor. His heart had been in his throat, the blood loud in his ears and his mind screaming at him to do something, anything to make the moment pass and for you to come back to him. The time spent in the hospital that night had worried him they would see the incident as a reason to screen your mental state, with how despondent you had been the entire time. The worry of them asking to speak with you alone while he answers a few questions of his own in the hallway.

He knew they had been doing their jobs, covering all of their bases, ensuring you were truly okay and not there of something done to you. The tests detailing your pregnancy alerting them in a way he hadn’t anticipated. Just the thought of deliberately hurting you made his stomach uneasy and his heart ache, he wanted nothing but the best for you. The proof of such in letting you go when you had asked, hopeful you would return to him. And you had. But he was glad they had been thorough, should his own daughters show up in a similar situation he would want them to do the same.

“Feelin’ okay with the driving?”

“Hmm?” You’re rolling your head toward him, reminding him of the way you had done so when you were drunk and munching on French fries the first night you had kissed.

“Asked if you were feelin’ okay?” He’s reaching for your again, tangling his fingers with the ones on your left hand. “No nausea or dizziness?”

“Nah, I’m okay.” Lifting his hand up, his heart thumps in his chest as he’s all too aware of the item he’s got hidden in the depths of his bag behind his seat, he feels your lips on his skin. He wants to for the rest of his days and he only hopes you want that too.

“Darlin’,” He’s breathing into the back of your neck, walking up behind you standing on the balcony of the room to wrap his arms around you, palms resting over your middle. Your heart is beating wildly, the scent of him and the memories you share with him all consuming you in that moment. You’re gasping as you feel a flutter in your stomach and you both freeze.

“Joel, did-“

“Our baby just kicked for the first time, mama.”

Turning to face him, you don’t bother to hide the tears of happiness wetting your eyes. His own are shining in the setting sunlight, every sound from the street below of the bustling city fading as you meet them. Your hands are resting alongside his, feeling the flutter again. A nervous giggle falls from your lips and he’s smiling so wide as he huffs out an incredulous laugh.

“Oh my god, this-this is really happening.”

“It really is,” Confusion furrows your brow as he’s shifting down to his knees. He’s nosing along your middle, one hand slipping away as he groans at the feeling of the ground below him. “You make me the happiest man, make me feel like I’m getting the chance to catch my breath.”

“What-“

“I didn’t know it when you first came to work that you would end up being one of the most important people in my life. But I’m so grateful that you did, because I have so much love for you. For the life we created right here,” Pulling back a little, he’s looking up at you with eyes so earnest and deep you feel your breath catch and the fluttering kicks up again in your stomach. “I want to do right by you and give you everything you feel like you missed out on, that you deserve.”

He’s holding his other hand up, the one still touching you breaking away as he opens up the small brown velvet box he’s cradling. The tears are now trickling down your cheeks, the ring catching the golden light shining down on your both. It’s as beautiful as he is, all polished gold and sparkling diamonds. It’s simple but it makes you feel seen in a way you never had before.

“Darlin’, will you do me the honor of letting me be your husband?” His nerves are obvious as he tracks the way your eyes rove over the ring, the box, your hands still over your middle, his face as he looks up at you. The shaky nod of your head and the warbled ‘yes’ of your answer gifts you the biggest, gummy smile that does nothing to quell the fast beating of your heart.

He’s surging up, kissing the tears from your cheeks as he laughs, stealing the same sound from your mouth as he slots his lips against yours. Again and again until the sun dips below the horizon.

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[ooffies]

Hi!! Could I request g/n reader accidentally confessing to Floyd? (I don't request a lot so this might be kind of janked up lol)

Hi nonnie, thank you for the request! I had so much fun writing this and I'm sorry for the wait, school as been taking up a lot of my time :,). I decided to add a few more characters and divided the audio into sections for each of the characters. I hope you're okay with that! Anyways I hope y'all enjoy ~

°•☆•°°•☆•°°•☆•°°•☆•°°•☆•°°•☆•°

Surprise Confession!

❥─➤ Characters: Riddle, Floyd, Rook, and Malleus x gn! reader (separate)

❥─➤ warnings: none!

Riddle Rosehearts:

“I’m going to confess to you on valentines”

“EH!?”

He’s shocked, absolutely flabbergasted. How can someone have so much confidence? Are you pulling a prank?? But he sees how serious you look. Oh god you’re not joking. He’s burning bright red, not exactly sure if he’s flustered or embarrassed. How could you be so bold? He wants to scold you for your bold statement but he can’t even get words to form because of how hard his heart hammered in his chest. 

You just ruined your own surprise due to your scattered brain prefect, goodness you are such a klutz. How silly. But I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. Wh-What? I said nothing of the sort I- I AM NOT BLUSHING!!

Floyd Leech:

“You’ll be available right?”

“Mhm”

He’s one happy little eel man. His shrimpy was so silly. You’re now locked in the cage of his embrace, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of his happiness. His chin rested on your head. His mouth wide open with a big smile, it was only proper of him to do so at this moment. Afterall his mother had taught him that if he ever liked someone he needed to show them by opening his mouth as wide as possible (fun eel fact). Forget the romantic valentines day confession your his now and he isn’t planning on letting you go. Best to change the plan to take him on a date now for Valentines.

Shrimpy look at you going and messin’ up your confession to me. But good for ya to know I don’t care that ya messed up. I’m much happier knowing how ya feel about me now rather than later yeah? So forget me being available I’m already all yours and now you're all mine~

Rook Hunt:

“You’ll be prepared?

“Yes”

He’s been ready for this moment since he first fell in love with you. He is absolutely overjoyed by your accidental confession. You were just the most magnificent, loveliest thing in the whole wide world. His belle rose, la prunelle de ses yeux, son véritable amour!! Scratch you being prepared to confess to him, this man was a thousand times more prepared than you. He could shower you with all the love and affection he had at this very moment, but he’ll wait to do that till your valentines day confession. He wouldn’t want to ruin the lovely surprise you had planned so intricately for him.

Oh my little trickster you are just the cutest!  You’re planning all this for me? Merveilleux!! You are like a star lighting up that night sky that is my heart, you burn so brightly I cannot get enough of your light. But ma précieuse étoile, I'll show you more love than you could ever imagine mi amor, I hope you’re prepared for it~

Malleus Draconia:

“Why is your face so red?”

“Cause you already confessed”

“AH!! I forget I said anything…”

Both of you are blushing red idiots. He’s having so much trouble processing what just happened and you’re beating yourself up for letting your plan slip. You were planning to confess to him? He never expected it. All these new feelings coming over him were overwhelming. His face was hot, his heart felt like it was about to burst and his stomach was tying itself in an array of knots. Was he sick? Coming down with something? But the most overwhelming thing of all was that he could not get you out of his head. Thoughts and images of you plagued his now lovesick brain. He wanted to take you in his arms and show you how much he loved you. He wanted to whisk you away and keep you all to himself.

How brave you are, child of man, confessing to someone like me. You are truly fascinating. Although I’m sure you can see how happy I am to hear that, can you tell by the red on my face.? I hate to make such a greedy request but can we perhaps not wait until valentine's day? I don’t think I can wait that long to officially become yours.

© ooffies 

Please do not repost or translate my work without permission and credit. Thank you!

[boothillssugarmomma]

Fake It Til You Make It

(Atsumu Miya x Fem!Reader)

cw-: Suggestive jokes at times, fluff all the way, mutual pining, fake!marriage trope, suggestive scene

🎀 authorsnote: THIS ONE IS HELLA LONG SO I HAD TO SPLIT IT UP INTO THREE PARTS ☝️😀...took so much time to edit and fix too...English was not Englishing...

please don't steal my work!

Pt 2: Fake It Til You Make It

Taglist🎀Haikyuu Masterlist🎀Other Lists🎀

 Atsumu takes a deep breath as he opens the door to his apartment. "Hey…my love…" He smirks, he takes a pause before sighing. “What do ya think…too much? This has to be believable…"

He stares at you as you take your headphones off, glaring at him with a playful gaze.

Atsumu and you are definitely not married, you're not even dating. But a few weeks ago…he blabbed about his perfect wife to his old teammates to make them jealous. So, after realizing he fucked himself over, he begged you to help him out. As his best friend, and roommate, you naturally said yes (he begged for hours). 

"Excuse me?" You hum 

“You heard meeee." He whines, walking over to the couch and laying on it, looking up at you in amusement. “Honey” He emphasizes, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Would it kill you to not make a sassy remark?”

"Do I seriously have to pretend to be your wife at the party tonight?" You sigh before flipping through the magazine you were reading. He knows this isn't ideal for you as you hate lying…and he knew he'd have to pay you back ten fold for this. "You could always just tell the truth!" You groan before the magazine shuts.

“I told you…” He sighs dramatically, throwing an arm over his eyes. “It’ll be fine! Just pretend to be the best wife. One who dotes on her husband and never says a word back.” Wincing as you bonk him on the head.

"Uh huh..." Atsumu can feel the heat of a glare on his head. 

“And.” He adds, taking his arm from his face and opening one eye to look at you. He raises a brow. “Try to seem at least a little bit happy to be with your dear husband yours truly, Atsumu-chan!”

"I'll do my best..." You roll your eyes. Glancing over at the ticking clock hanging above the front door, it reads as six o clock…almost time for the party.

“I hope so…” He says, sitting up and leaning forward a bit. His smile turns a little more serious. “You do know what happens if we can’t pull it off tonight, right?”

"No...what happens." 

Atsumus face looks utterly disgusted and betrayed as a gasp fills your ears.

“My entire team makes fun of me.” He pouts before looking away. “Then again, they already do. They’ll just be more obnoxious about it.”

"That's true they'll never let you live it down..." You tsk your tongue. Laying back more on the couch to stretch without a care in the world. 

“Exactly!” He emphasizes. “I will be ridiculed by everyone even my old teammates and rival teams! I won’t have peace in my own home!” Atsumu pouts, looking up at you innocently. “You wouldn’t want me to suffer that… right?”

Taking a minute to answer, your eyes glare daggers into his before you sigh, dropping your head and shaking it. "No I guess not..." 

“So, all you need to do is pretend to like me!” He says with a huff. “Act like I’m everything you could ever want in a man. Even though you don't have to pretend." He sniffs and sighs. "I already know I am…” Giving you a sly wink before stretching out onto the couch. 

 Rolling your eyes, you sit forward and nudge him with your foot. "Yeah ok..." 

“That’s the spirit!” Your stupid stupid friend hums, laying back down on the couch. “So, go change into something cute...” He says, waving a hand in the air. “It can’t hurt to sell it, right?”

"Ouch!" You smack his arm and gasp. "You don't think this is cute?" Whining as you get up, your sweatpants practically hanging off while your tanktop is particularly tight. 

Raising his eyebrows a small smirk crawls onto his face. “Oh, it is. It really is….” His eyes slowly move up and down your body, stopping at your ass as he bites his bottom lip before looking back up, a faint red tint on his cheeks. 

The blonde clears his throat, looking away. “But, like, it’s not party material, you know?”

"True..."

“Right. So, go put on a cute sundress!” He says, waving a hand. “That’ll sell it for sure.” 

He glances over his shoulder to look out the window, his cheeks still tinted pink.

You roll your eyes before walking off to your room to change into something more party acceptable. You'd never admit it to the stupid blonde…but you were happy to play his fake wife. 

Now all he has to do is wait. He sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone boredly, before tossing his phone aside and glancing at the wall clock.

“Why does she take so long?” He mutters to himself, looking slightly annoyed. Atsumu hums as he hears clacking of heels on the hardwood floor.  "Finally took you lo-" He trails off as he sees you. 

"How do I look?" You whisper. You look gorgeous wearing a cute little halter top yellow sundress, a tiny white diner apron, paired with tights and cute black heels. (I'VE SEEN THIS DAMN OUTFIT ALL DAY AND I NEED IT)

You take notice of his eyes widening slightly as his mouth falls open, eyes eventually trailing up and down your form. A small, genuine smile forms on his lips. 

“Perfect.” He quickly stands up and steps closer, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against it. As he pulls back, the small smile turns into a cheeky smirk.

“My gorgeous wife.”

"Yeah yeah...my lovely husband..." You roll your eyes and smirk. Nudging him playfully as your eyes meet. 

He laughs quietly. “See? We’ll be fine at the party.” He releases your hand, instead substituting is for your chin, tilting it up. He raises an eyebrow with a smirk, leaning just a bit closer.

“We should probably practice the kissing a bit more, though…” He whispers, his breath fanning over her lips. “Since we’re practically newlyweds.”

You roll your eyes. "Save it for the party Atsumu..." You nudge him.

He laughs again, pulling away and throwing an arm over your shoulder. “You’re adorable…” He says, pulling you closer and kissing the top of your head. “But we’ll never get better if we don’t practice.” 

Glancing at the clock on the wall he hums. “It’s six fifteen…” He smirks, leading you toward the couch. “The party doesn’t start for an hour. We have plenty of time to practice…”

You hesitate as you watch his pleading face, your eyes weaken and he knows he hit your weak spot for him. "Fine...one kiss..." 

He grins. “Yeah? Then come’re and give me one!” Pulling you down onto the couch beside him. He cups your cheek almost immediately and presses his lips to your own, kissing you for a few moments before pulling back.

Atsumu's thumb gently rubs your cheek as he stares at you, a faint smirk/smile on his face. “One’s not enough…” He whispers with a small pleading tone, leaning in again he hovers over your lips. “Another, please?”

"I mean…its just practice…so its not weird..." You whisper with a gentle gulp, swallowing nerves. 

His smile widens considerably as his nose brushes against yours. “I like the sound of that…” He hums before pressing his lips to yours again. This one lingers longer than the previous one, but he once again pulls away with a teasing smile on his face, his thumb still rubbing at your cheek.

“You know, we could easily be better than the other couples at the party if we practiced more…” He says, voice barely just above a whisper.

"Oh yeah?" 

“Mhm…” The brown eyed bundle of nerves hums, his hand trailing down to rest on your hip, rubbing small circles there and holding you tight. He presses his lips to yours once more, kissing you for a few moments before moving down, lips brushing along your jaw before gently nipping at the nape of your neck. He pulls away after a moment, letting out a quiet groan, eyes closing.

“You taste so good…”

"You're a great kisser...never expected that..." You tease softly.

“Oh yeah? What did you expect?” He asks in amusement, his hand shifting from your hip up under the hem of your dress, running up along your outer thigh. He presses a kiss to the side of your jaw.

"No hickies!" You scoff as he suckles on a spot. Ignoring his previous question. 

Atsumu laughs quietly at the request. “I wasn’t planning on it…” He mumbles, obviously lying,  pressing a few more kisses to the side of your neck before stopping and pulling away slightly to look at you fully, hand still rubbing the skin of your thigh. 

He leans back into the couch cushion behind him, staring at you, a faint smirk and a look of mischief on his face. “You know, if you really want to sell it at the party, we should make it known that you’re my wife in more ways than just kissing…”

"And what do you mean by that?" You nudge him gently with your elbow. 

He gives you a knowing look, a smirk on his face as he sits back up, hand slowly moving further up the plush of your thigh, stopping just shy of your panties. “You’re a pretty smart girl…" The man murmurs, moving closer. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”

Brown eyes flick from yours to your rosy lips, and he slowly leans in. Instead of kissing you again however, he stops just before your lips make contact. “Let me show you…maybe?”

You nod quickly and shift to give him better access.

Without any hesitation, he closes the remaining distance, pressing his lips to yours. But…this kiss is very different from the other kisses: it’s desperate, deep, needy, and slightly sloppy. It only lasts for a few moments before he’s pulling away though, his eyes meeting yours, breathless.

“There are lots of ways to make it known…” He says, his voice hoarse with lust. “Do I need to keep showing you?” Atsumus eyes connect with yours, and you know what he's hoping…for you to say yes…and you're more than ready to give him that answer.

You pull on the collar of his shirt softly and nod. "Please..."

He leans in again, brushing his nose against yours for a moment before meeting those precious fuckin lips again. Like the previous kiss, it’s needy, hungry, and desperate. He kisses you like a man starved, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He pulls away for just a moment to catch his breath again, panting slightly. “You taste so good…” He whispers, pressing another soft kiss to your pink, swollen lips. “So good.”

Suddenly it hits you both…you're kissing. You both freeze.

Atsumu’s gaze travels down to those lips he thinks he'll never stop thinking about, taking in their plumpness and slight pink tint, before he shakes his head and looks back up to your eyes. The look of desire and love in his eyes remains, but he pushes down any other thoughts.

Right now is just to practice. Nothing more.

…But damn, he really wishes for just a moment (always) that this were real. That this wasn’t all just for show. That you really actually did love him that way.

You straighten your hair and clear your throat. "Well I think we did good…nice practice?" 

“We did…” He laughs softly, adjusting his clothes and running his fingers through his hair. His eyes flicker down to a few small blemishes on your neck, and he resists the urge to apologize again, instead nodding. “I think we’ll do great tonight!” 

He stands from the couch, his cheeks flushed. “I need a drink real quick. Do you want one?”

"U-Uh water thanks." You hum softly, trying to stop the blush from coming back to your face. 

He gives you a questioning look but doesn’t say anything, instead turning away and walking to the kitchen. He grabs one bottle of water and one bottle of beer for himself, returning with both after a moment. He hands you the water before popping open the beer and taking a sip.

“We have around thirty minutes before we leave…” He says, checking his watch before looking back up at you. “Anything you wanna do while we wait?”

"...well...I don't like your tie...so let me pick out a different one." You hum, quickly getting up and walking back to his room. 

He lets out a quiet groan, tilting his head back and looking up at the ceiling for a moment.

She’ll be the death of me…

He sighs and follows you down the hall, setting his beer on the bedside table when he reaches his room. Leaning against the wall, he watches you look over his selection of ties, arms crossed over his chest.

"Hmmm this one?" You hold one up to him to see the contrast. "Nah..." Putting it back to just find another one. 

“So picky…” He says, shaking his head with a small scoff. Despite that, he smiles softly, watching your determined look as you sift through his ties. 

He stands beside you and reaches for a tie himself, turning to you so you can see. “Maybe…this one?” He suggests, holding up a royal purple tie, leaning towards you, your faces near.

"That's not really you though..." You scoff and roll your eyes. 

He purses his lips, thinking for a moment before glancing back at his ties. He reaches past you and pulls out a gold one: very similar in color to his hair. 

“How about this one, then?” He holds it up beside his head, matching the contrast of his hair with the tie. “It accents me quite well, you see?”

"Yes!" You clap your hands and grab it from him before undoing his original tie. 

His cheeks darken slightly at the enthusiasm, but he does a good job of hiding his embarrassment. Despite that, he still smiles. Your behavior was too cute for his heart.

He steps closer so you can remove the old tie easier. He rests a hand on top of yours, steadying it as you undo it.

You place the tie in his closet before turning back to him to tie the new one. 

He raises his chin slightly to make the task easier, watching with a growing smile as your hands quickly begin to work.

If only she really were my wife…

“You’re very good at this…” He murmurs, watching you intently. “Have you tied a tie before?”

"I used to tie my dad's ties..." You smile with a small laugh. "My mom used to say I begged to learn..." 

Atsumu chuckles softly, smile widening slightly. “Really?” He hums, tilting his head slightly to give you better access. “Well, it certainly shows. I’d almost think you were a professional.”

"Professional?" You scoff in a laugh. "I don't think thats a profession dumbass…"

Atsumu’s smile widens and he chuckles again, shaking his head. “Yes, professional...” The setter teases. 

He rests a hand on your hip, pulling you closer as he looks down at you. From this angle, you looked a bit smaller then he usually saw you, but in a cute way. He almost wants to pull your cute ass into a hug.

"... you're very good at being a fake husband." You tease, poking his nose with your index finger.

“Of course I am!” He laughs, giving a self-confident smile. “I’m good at everything.” His ego shows and he raises his chin. “Even being a real husband, if I needed to be.”

"Well whoever ends up with you is lucky." You hum gently. "I hope you'll say the same for me?" You tease.

His smile falters slightly at your teasing words, and he looks at you with a conflicted look in his eyes.

Why did that bother him so much? Why did the image of you being married to someone else make his stomach twist…?

He quickly composes himself though, clearing his throat. He lets out an overconfident laugh, stepping back away from you. “Well, of course they will be! I’m great...and you are too I guess…” You hit his arm playfully.

You laugh softly and nod. "Perfect...except…" You snap your fingers and grab a hairbrush off his nightstand, leaning upward to begin fixing his messy hair.

A faint tint of red forms on his cheeks and he raises a brow, watching you work. “I’m fine, you know…” He mumbles, but he makes no attempts to stop you. In fact, he doesn’t even step away, tilting his head down for better access.

"Nope, your bangs needed fixing." You smirk and huff.

He lets out a quiet scoff, but doesn’t reply. Instead, he simply stares at you as you fix his hair. He could feel his heart beginning to beat faster as he stood here with you, watching this perfect girl fix his hair with no hesitation or shame. 

You couldn’t possibly ever be his, could you? But the way you acted around him, the way you spoke and teased him: it all made it seem so real.

As if you were really a couple… 

It was almost maddening…

But he loved it…

And he wanted you to love him…just as much as he loved you…

"Ok there!" You smile and stand back to give him a once over. 

He takes a step back and looks at himself in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair. He looks himself up and down before turning back to you with a smirk. 

“I look amazing!” He says, putting on a fake, overconfident tone of vanity, one hand on his hip. He holds his chin up and gives you a teasing once over as well. “Don’t I?”

"You just fucked up your hair again..." You groan and shake your head.

As he moves to reach for his hair yet again, he realizes that he actually did mess it up again, and he drops his hand with a sigh. 

“Well, now it just looks normal!” He huffs, a half-hearted shrug. He gives you a small smile though: the type of smile that’s full of fondness and appreciation…and maybe…even love. “Thank you, though, for your effort.”

Your roll your eyes and loop your arm with his, standing next to him and glancing in the mirror. "We look good together... people will believe it."  

He chuckles quietly before looking at the mirror, a genuine smile settling onto his face as he stares at the reflection. 

“I think we look very good together… as husband and wife.” Astumu lifts a hand off your arm to run a hand through his hair again once more, this time just styling it to look nice. “We’ll be perfect at the party, don’t worry.”

You nod softly and fluff your hair once more. "Ok...ready to go?" You hum

He nods in return, pulling you closer with a smile, resting his arm around your waist. The contact between you and him is intoxicating, but he pushes the thought away for another time.

“Let’s go, my love” He teases, leading you toward the door. “This party won’t know what hit them with how believable we are.”

🎀 Continued in Next Part🎀

(I will be posting Pt 2 tomorrow, ask if you want to be tagged!)

[crypticbunnygirl]

Military Ball

This fanfic is based off of the post by @apathetickun !! I did change up the dialouge a little bit but i wouldnt have had the idea if it wasnt for their post!!

I am open to construtive critisim! just be nice!:)

Words: 1.1k

Summary: You go a military ball with the task force.

You are going to be late. 

You're going to be late to a military ball, of all things!  Soap said it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go, see all of us dressed up. Price agreed which was a shock, saying it would be refreshing to see our teammates out of the uniform, ya know switch it up.

So here you are showing up late. You weren’t trying to be late but where they are holding the ball is a long drive and traffic was a problem. Eventually you show up, 45 minutes late but hey you got here. You let a calm sigh as you walk towards the doors. Before you open them you check your phone camera to make sure you look presentable. You open the door and head in. As you walk in you notice a few people turn their heads. You brush it off and look for your team. You see Ghost as that man is hard to miss in a room. Soap, Gaz, and Price all see you and wave. You give them a small wave back. 

“You're late, lass!” Soap chuckles. 

“Ya ya, I know.” You say. 

“Lovely dress.” Gaz comments. 

“Thanks. I haven’t worn one in a while.” You say. You can Ghosts eyes on you. You had harbored feelings for your lieutenant for a while now. 

“How about some drinks?” Soap suggests.

“Sure, bourbon?” You say, a unanimous yes for the team. Soap nods and walks to the bar.  You glance at Ghost. He looks phenomenal in his suit, although you think he looks good all the time, but this just feels different. Soap comes back with the drinks. You end up downing it. 

“Damn lass didn’t know you could do that.” Soap comments with a sly smirk. You roll your eyes. 

“She’s probably trying to get comfortable.” Ghost says. I nod

“Ya, loosen up a little.” You chime. 

“We should do shots.” You suggest. “Just a few!” You add. Soap nods.

“Oh definitely! We are having fun tonight!” Soap says rushing to the bar. You hear Ghost let out a small sigh.

“Bored, Lt?” You ask. 

“A little but watching Johnny get wasted at a military ball is entertaining.” He says, you nod. 

“Ya it is.” You say, wanting to continue the conversation but not knowing what to say. Soap comes back with the shots. You watch Ghost lift his mask up to take a sip of his bourbon. God how you wanted to kiss them. You quickly look away with a light blush on your face. 

“Y/n you're a genius, shots are a great idea!” Soap says, downing two. 

“Maybe calm down a little. I’m not driving anyone home.” Price says. As the night progressed on Soap drank more, you had calmed down since you were driving. Before you released people were slow dancing. Price, Gaz, and Soap and found a table to sit at since Soap wasn’t being the smartest, but hey whats new. You shift your gaze to Ghost who is working on his second glass of bourbon, while you work on a glass of white wine.

“Do you like dancing, Ghost?” You ask, the drinks getting to you. It takes a moment for him to answer.

“No, not really.” He says. You nod, feeling weirdly disappointed. You take a sip from your drink trying to think of a way to change the subject. 

“Do you like dancing, y/n?” He asks. You nod.

“Ya, but never got asked.” I say with a small chuckle. You take another sip of wine and watch as Ghost takes a sip of his drink.  You watch Ghost set his drink down and turn his body to you. 

“.....Would you like to dance?” He asks, holding his hand out. You're taken aback by the situation unfolding in front of you. You can’t tell but Ghost is freaking out underneath the mask. 

“I would love to, ghost.” You say resting your hand in his. As you guys walked to the dance floor you started panicking a little. You were going to dance with your lieutenant, the man you have feelings for. Now you're facing him, face flushed red. He sets his hands on your hips and you put yours around his neck. 

“You look good tonight, ghost.” You say.

“Call me Simon.” He says. 

“Well, then you good Simon.” You say. You can’t see but he is losing his mind, the nights he’s spent thinking about you, how you invaded his everyday thoughts. You don’t know the effect you have on him. 

“Love the dress.” He says, his eyes roaming your body. 

“Thank you.” You say, your bodies slowly swaying to the music and leaving little room between the two of you. You could stay like this forever, in his arms, you feel at peace and like the world is quiet for once. You feel as though you are the only two people here. Just you and Simon. It's perfect. You couldn’t ask for anything better than this. 

“Can I tell you something?” You ask.

“Of course.” He says. You lean up to his ear, thinking with your heart not your head. 

“I like you, Simon.” You whisper. 

“Oh, do you now?” He asks. 

“Yep.” You say, popping the p. “You're just so perfect. I know you have been through a lot and I just want to show that not everything in this world is cruel and unjust. I want you to be able to feel the love you should have gotten and should be getting.” You add, letting your feelings pour out of you. Before you can get another word out you feel Simon’s lips on yours. His hands pulling you close. 

“I like you too, y/n.” He says. You didn’t care about anything else right now. You felt like you were on cloud 9. You kiss him again. His lips moving against yours and his hands on your hips. Then you hear whistling and apploses, right there's other people here. You feel your face get red. 

“Fucking hell.” He mumbles, his hand still on the small of your back. 

“Well, shall we join our teammates for the rest of the night?” You say.

“What if we left?” He suggests. 

“You know what, ya, my feet hurt.” You say. You say your goodbyes and Simon walks you out to your car, which isn’t too far from his. 

“I’ll call you in the morning and we can have a clear conversation about this ok?” Simon says. You nod.

“Of course.” You say smiling. Simon kisses you one last time before you guys have to go your separate ways. This night turned out to be a good one. 

[nolita-fairytale]

don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | epilogue: november

summary: sugar has her baby marking the beginning of a new chapter for the berzatto family.

warnings: husband!carmy who comes with a warning label of his own, swearing, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov, she/her pronouns, the end

wc: 1300

listen to: 'lean on me' -- bill withers & 'chinatown' -- bleachers (because it's so make my heart surrender au coded) on the official don't want to walk alone playlist

a/n: well, folks! this gets us from here to the carmy as your baby daddy au. BUT i think it's time for me to let these two ride off into the sunset and go on their merry way. i have loved this story, these characters, this world since it filled my brain with a story that begged to be told, and forced me to write it because i couldn't stop thinking about it. i wrote something quite sappy in the a/n a few chapters ago, so i'll spare us an encore performance of it and just say this: thank you for reading. thank you for being a part of this story. thank you for being a part of their journey. i will pop into this world and perhaps maybe write oneshots from time to time, but... it's time, my loves. :) would anyone be interested in a behind the scenes look at this world like i did with 'burn your life down?' let me know!

part five | masterlist

November

After sixteen long hours, Sugar’s baby comes: a perfect, rosy-cheeked, healthy baby boy that sends you and Carmy rushing to the hospital. Sugar hadn’t wanted you to come till she was ready to push, and by the time you got the text from Pete, you’d sped to the restaurant, ready to drag Carmy out of there, regardless of how busy it had been. 

Besides, everyone knew what was going on – on the edges of their seats, phones at the ready to hear any and all news about the new member of the family, and more than happy to support so that you and Carmy could show up for Sugar. 

“Carm?” Sugar asks for her brother, as you and Pete hug it out in the waiting room. You can’t even tell that the man’s been up all night; the excitement and joy in his eyes overshadowing any and all fatigue. 

Carmy excuses himself from you and Pete’s congratulatory embrace, making his way into the hospital room where his sister lays, propped up on her bed, baby in arms. 

So much has changed for the both of them: his sister, now a mother, and he, an uncle. Carmy takes cautious steps forward, the reality of it all beginning to hit him. 

“Hi,” she smiles, in complete awe of her new baby. 

“Woah,” Carmy says, though completely incapable of hiding the smile that begins to form over his face. “You made that.”

“I made that,” she chuckles with an eye roll, glancing from the baby, to her brother, then back to her son. “And he’s the most perfect thing in the world. Baby boy, I want you to meet someone. I want you to meet your uncle.” 

Carmy carefully sits in the chair right next to the bed, turning his attention to the baby. 

“Can you say hi to your Uncle Carmy?” Nat coos, shifting so that she can properly introduce her son and Carmy. 

“Oh my goodness… look at you,” Carmy says, his eyes full of wonder as the sleeping baby shifts in Sugar’s arms. 

He’s not sure what to say, the words caught in his throat. He can feel it – that this is something momentous – but it’s as if he doesn’t know where to begin, lost in the magnitude of what’s happening right now. 

“Hey, little guy,” Carmy finally manages to get out, his voice stuck in his throat. 

Sugar chuckles again, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“How ya doin?” Carmy asks, looking over at his sister this time. 

“Great. Just great,” she replies dryly, earning a laugh from Carmy, because it really has been one hell of a night. 

When she opens her mouth to answer this time, her words come out much more genuine and soft as she adds, “I am though. Really. I’m great.”

Carmy nods in understanding, his eyes searching his sister’s face for any more of a reaction. But he knows that this is a dream come true for her -- that being a mother had always been the plan. Carmy chooses to focus this time on the sleeping baby, who’s tucked his head into her chest, seeking out warmth and comfort in this strange, new world. 

“Bear?” Nat asks, as Carmy lifts his head to look at her once more. 

There’s something urgent in her voice that grabs his attention and he’s not sure what she’s going to say next. 

“Yeah?” he asks back, his eyes wide. 

“So I want to talk to you about something,” Sugar says, his voice softening even more as she looks down at her baby boy. Carmy nods once, letting her know that he’s ready as Nat continues. “I uh… well, Pete and I have been thinking a lot about this. And… I wanted to talk to you about it before we move forward with it.”

Carmy swallows, leaning in this time. 

“After we found out we were having a boy, Carm, we talked a lot… about what we would name him and… with his due date being in November… I don’t know. And look at him now, meeting him... it just feels right,” she begins, emotions welling in her voice. “We-, well, we want to name him Michael. If that’s okay… with you.”

Carmy has to stop for a moment, frozen in time as he hears the name. It’s not like he gets emotional about these kinds of things very often, but then again, this is all new to him – new to the little families they’re building; a new generation of Berzattos. 

“Uh,” Carmy croaks out, his voice stuck in his throat as he realizes he’s much more moved than he expected to be. “Uh yeah, Sug. I… it’s okay with me.”

“Are you sure? Because I didn’t know if you wanted to use the name or-,” Sugar begins to explain. 

“No, it’s-, it’s okay,” Carmy is quick to interject. “If it feels right. I mean we haven’t even-, you know, we’re not talking about… yet….” 

Sugar nods in understanding, because she knows that you and Carmy have only been married for two months now. Hell, she's your best friend; she'd know if either of you were talking about having kids.

“So,” Carmy says, his eyes suddenly feeling watery. “Guess there’s a new Michael Berzatto then?”

He takes another look at his baby nephew, joy and grief both trapped inside his chest. Carmy's overwhelmed by it all: hearing his name, what this means for the Berzattos, this new beginning. He thinks back to what you said to Sugar on your wedding day -- that this could be the start of a new chapter for all of you -- the reality of your words reflected back to him now, all in one tiny package of new life.

"Welcome to the world, buddy," Carmy manages to say, his voice soft and full.

And it's as if every single thing that's led to this moment, and every single possibility that the future may hold rush before his eyes.

“Welcome to the world, baby boy,” Sugar whispers, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions.

*

Wanting to give Carmy and Nat time alone together, you spend the first part of your hospital visit with Pete in the waiting room, as the teary-eyed man recounts the intensity of the last eight hours. You can see it in his eyes, hear it in the way he speaks, that this is a dream come true for him – becoming a father. 

Soon enough, Pete is ushering you into the hospital room, more than eager to introduce you to your new nephew. By the time you and Pete join her and Carmy, the new Berzatto is fast asleep on her chest, while Carmy sits quietly next to her. There’s an energy between the siblings, something you notice right away, and you can only imagine that this is emotional for the both of them on so many levels. 

“Hi,” you grin, looking from Sugar to Carmy, as you join him by her bedside.  

“Hi, sweetie,” Sugar greets you. Carmy smiles at you, as your hand comes up to rub comforting patterns over his shoulder and back. 

“Pete,” Nat begins again. “Carmy and I were just talking… about his name.”

“Oh yeah?” Pete asks, smiling hopefully as he exchanges a look with his wife. 

She nods, a full conversation happening between the new parents with just one look. Pete lets out a heavy exhale, smiling at his wife as Nat answers with:

“Yeah."

Carmy clears his throat, his arm closest to you squeezing you closer to him, gently leaning his head against your side in search of comfort. 

“What’d you decide on?” you ask curiously, the air seemingly tense with feeling. 

“Michael,” Sugar answers, exchanging a look with her brother this time. Carmy squeezes your hip, and as you search his face for a reaction, you can tell he's holding back tears.

“His name is Michael.”

[hauntedtrait]

🐴Once Upon A Time In Chestnut Ridge: A Bachelor Challenge

Meet Dakota Blue Heron, Chestnut Ridge's most eligible bachelor!

Dakota is 29, stands 6'3 tall, living on Crow's Head ranch, primarily a horse ranch that is open for guests in the spring and summer months. The ranch is owned and operated by the Heron family, being passed down through generations for over a century. Kindly, Dakota's parents have allowed the ranch to be used this season, in hopes that the show's popularity will help bring in more guests and customers.

Dakota accepted the network's offer to be Bachelor in hopes of finding a life partner, having little time to meet new people in his regular life. Also because, in his words, "this seems fun!"

Here's a few things he wants potential contestants to know about him: he spends his days working in various different parts of the ranch (in the horse stalls and gardens especially), he grows most of his food and whatever he doesn't grow he sources from local and ethical producers, he loves being surrounded by people (especially those he holds dearly), occasionally hunts (deer and invasive species mostly). He speaks navajo, navajo sign language, english and spanish, and is a tribal member of the navajo nation. Dakota wants kids and is looking for a partner with similar desires to start a family.

Keep reading below for more info!

Likes: fellow animal enthusiasts, physical contact (his love language), his grandmother's cooking, gardening, spending his days outside, being with family, cinnamon, old hollywood films, people who are connected to their families or communities, fry bread

Dislikes: being cooped up inside, snow days, musical theater, cilantro (he's got the soap taste gene), sudden loud sounds, stand up comedy, cold showers, people who don't like getting dirty, cops, cigarette smoke

GUIDELINES:

8 contestants will be accepted

contestants should have at least 5 likes and/or dislikes

contestants have 15 skill points to distribute as they wish

contestants can have 3-5 traits, except for unflirty or romantic, do give them at least one negative trait, it's more fun that way

unfortunately, only human contestants for this one. YA and adult only, any amount of story/backstory, any aspiration except for romance related aspirations, any gender (pleaseeee give them pronouns). include all this information in your entry please.

any cc and outfits, though try to keep to 1 outfit per category. maxis match or maxis mix is fine EXCEPT for alpha hairs, no alpha hairs please.

Download can be private or public, up to you, BUT please include ALL cc in the download!

i own most of the packs except for some of the kits, but i do have the ‘kits made bgc’ so i can replace stuff if needed

i will be changing skin details and giving them more outfits, if you submit a sim you are consenting to have them be changed to fit my sim style. honestly i highly encourage everyone to use sliders and custom presets, i think sims look a lot better with those and i dont love how vanilla presets look tbh

if you do not have the horse ranch pack but would like for certain skills, traits or aspirations from the pack to be used on your sim, let me know and i will add it in game!

tag me in your posts and use the hashtag #chestnutbc

UPDATE:

NEW DEADLINE: AUGUST 14

PLEASE READ:

As stated previously, Dakota likesmasculine-leaning sims. No strict gender preference, but I am looking for masculine contestants. Be it women who are more butch, masc leaning non binary, cis or trans men on the masculine side of the spectrum. Dakota's type tends to be people with muscles, masculine-leaning, who look like they could pick him up and throw him around. Dad types are a plus too. He prefers people who aren't very skinny, who have some meat on their bones. Strong types, protective vibes, and obviously people who can and are willing to work on a farm and live and deal with animals every day, it's not easy work!

[hopelesslyromanticgay]

An Americano, Please? Part 2

Word Count: 757 A/N: italicized text within quotation marks means that the person speaking is using Romanian instead of English

Y/N's POV:

I haven't seen Jenna for five days, so she was probably just a tourist. It's not uncommon for a tourist to pop by the shop asking for a coffee but not being able to speak Romanian, so I have no idea why I'm so sad that she's not coming back. 

I thought the idea of a "hallway crush," (someone you've interacted with once or twice for a short or professional amount of time, but are attracted to nonetheless), only lasted through high school. I guess I was wrong.

Friday morning, the shop is quiet because of how early it is. I shovel some coffee beans into the grinder. Despite the annoyingly loud noise it makes, I find it an oddly satisfying process.

I yawn, getting out of bed at four thirty for a five AM shift is nobody's idea of a good start to a day.

Once the coffee's all ground up, I put some in the drip coffee brewer and the rest next to the espresso machine.

In the back, I can smell my coworkers taking today's baked goods out of the oven.

"Hey, L/N, want a cinnamon bun? It's a little 'burnt', so we can't sell it," my coworker and friend Nessa asks. Every Friday is the same, Nessa and I are two of the only people around the shop this early, so we'll sneak a pastry and say it was burnt if anyone asks.

"Sure, Thanks!" I reply, taking the warm pastry from her. Taking a bite, a smile creeps across my face, "did you guys change the recipe? This is even better than last week's!"

"Yeah, boss asked if we could add a few more spices to the dough," she explains, "I'm a pretty big fan of the new recipe if I do say so myself."

It's not long before the cafe starts to smell like cinnamon and coffee, a perfectly inviting scent in the gloomy fall weather.

Five twenty and it's time to open up the shop. Of course, no one actually arrives until six, usually. Nevertheless the owner says being open early is best for business.

As I wait for the first customers to arrive, I zone out. There's not much to do except for sitting alone with my thoughts.

I'm so lost in thought that I'm thoroughly shocked when I hear the bell on the door ring, indicating that someone has entered the shop. I look up to see who it is. Then it dawns on me. She's a little paler than last time, but it's still her.

"Jenna?" I ask incredulously, I thought for sure she was gone.

"You remember me?" she raises an eyebrow.

"I remember most people who can't speak Romanian," I lie.

"Sure," she giggles.

"What can I get for ya today?" I ask.

"You know, I think I'll take your joke from the other day seriously," she replies with a faint smirk, "I'll have an Americano with oat milk please."

"Alright, an Americano for the American," I laugh, mixing the drink, "so, what brings you to Romania?"

"Could you please repeat that?" she asks, "sorry, I've been having trouble focusing lately."

"Well, you're clearly not a tourist, because most tourists don't stick around for more than three days. So I'm just wondering, what brings you to Romania?" I repeat.

"Oh, uh, I'm filming a TV show," she explains.

"You act?" I ask. I don't know why I'm surprised. She certainly has the looks and charisma for Hollywood.

"Yeah," she smiles, "this is definitely one of the bigger things I've done though."

"Congrats on that! What are you filming? Are you allowed to tell people?"

"It's a show about the Addams family," she tells me.

"Oh I love that franchise!" I exclaim, "Are you playing one of the family members?"

"Yeah, I'm Wednesday, which is both exciting and nerve wracking." 

Okay, so I'm literally talking to a celebrity. 

"Woah... That- that sounds like an awesome job," I smile, "good for you. So you'll be in the area for a while?"

"What's it to you?" she smirks flirtatiously, "you wanna take me out on a date or something?" I feel a blush start to creep it's way to my cheeks.

"That depends, you gonna be in town for a while?"

"At least six more months."

"In that case, how about I show you around town sometime?"

"I'd like that," she smiles. As much as I would love to keep up this banter, there's too many people in the store now.

I hand her the receipt, my number neatly scribbled down on the blank side, "reach out when you're available," I wink.

She heads out and I watch as she leaves.

On with the day. Only four hours left of this shift.

[snorky]

Hi, I really adore your work and wanted to request an UPL imagine,, maybe hurt/comfort, if that's something you're comfortable doing? Thank you so so much!! 🩷🩷🩷 have a great day!!!:)

But Beware, Beware, Beware (And Take It Slow Tonight)

Hey y’all, and hi-hello to the lovely requester who asked for a Ukko-Pekka hurt/comfort, which is something I am usually one-hundred percent okay doing :) Thank you so much for the kind words as well, luv ya lots <3 If the pronouns of the reader in this fic (she/her) need to be changed (directed at the requester) please let me know! Title is from the song "Today I Saw The Whole World" by Pierce The Veil. I hope you angels are all doing well and lovely, and enjoy this fic, and also, remember to take care of yourself!

Pairing: Ukko-Pekka Luukkonen x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst, Nightmares, Yelling/Shouting, Hurt/Comfort, Not proofread yet (sigh), (let me know if I need to add anything)

—

—

Fear. It was the only thing she felt while she was stuck in a room with him, sitting down at the dinner table with her head in her hands, and all he could do was yell curses and shout at whatever rolled off of his tongue that seemed to be laced with poison. The only source of light came from behind him in the kitchen, casting mangled shadows across the room like twisted trees and thorns.

Tears seemed to roll down her cheeks endlessly, and yet, he didn’t seem to acknowledge a single one as he kept shouting at her, his larger frame so much more intimidating.

He said he would never do this, he said he would never hurt her, but at the moment, all his promises seemed to be made of lies and emptiness. The rage in his eyes seemed to burn into her skin, his laugh empty and mocking, and she felt so afraid.

As he slammed his fist onto the table, she woke from her sleep, breathless and teary eyed.

Looking over to the sleeping figure next to her, she could see that he was sleeping peacefully, chest rhythmically rising and falling with each deep breath of his. His hair was slightly tousled, falling softly onto his forehead.

She tried to wipe away the tears with the back of her palm, yet they kept falling against her will as she thought back to the nightmare she just had. He seemed so gentle, fast asleep right next to her, but her mind was at unease and turmoil.

Pushing the covers and sheets aside, she got out of bed, the hardwood floor cold beneath her feet. It creaked and croaked, causing her to freeze as he started to roll over in bed. When he started to settle down, she walked out into the darkened hallway, pictures and paintings hung on the wall.

It felt like a home, something she was so happy to share with Ukko, something that was so comforting to her deep down, but at the moment, she didn’t feel safe at all. She felt like she wasn’t supposed to be here in this house she called a home, she felt like she didn’t deserve to live such a content life.

As she opened the front door, she turned the front porch light on, illuminating the concrete steps that were decorated with potted flowers and plants. Carefully, she shut the door behind her, trying not to wake her lover up.

She sat down, looking off into the empty street at night, only illuminated by the street lamps posted every now and then on the sidewalk. It was quiet, oh so quiet, and she could hear each heartbeat of hers, rapid and rampant as she tried to recollect herself.

Her hands wiped at the tears that kept falling, pawing at them with her palms, irritating the skin. There was a lump in her throat that she couldn’t seem to swallow or push down, and it felt as if she was at the mercy of whatever happened next.

And silence followed, the sound of crickets chirping endlessly into the night, an owl in the far, far distance. It was much calmer than what her mind seemed to conjure up only a few minutes prior.

Only then the calm was broken by the front door opening, and a quiet sigh from behind her.

“Why are you out here, darling?” His voice was groggy, having just woken up, and she could tell that he was a little surprised to see her out here. “It’s cold and you’re going to get sick,” he said worriedly. There was a slight hint of care in his voice, nurturing and sweet as ever, but she didn’t want to accept it.

When he tried to reach out to her, she moved away from his touch, looking at him with scared, puffy and bloodshot eyes. His heart broke at the sight of her, not knowing what happened or why she was out here in the first place.

He squatted down, lowering himself to be near eye-level with her, hoping to try and figure out why she seemed so hurt by him. “What’s wrong? Is everything alright?”

She simply shook her head, not wanting to speak. Her silent cries still passed her lips every now and then, each sob causing a pain and crack in his heart.

Ukko understood that the season was rough for the Sabres, each loss whenever he played feeling like a massive weight on his shoulders, and missing the playoffs was something that made him more disappointed in himself. He could’ve played better, stopped more goals, been more consistent, and yet he just wasn’t.

He never wanted it to affect his personal life, he never wanted to upset her in any way, but there were some nights where he just wanted a bit of alone time, by himself.

Sitting down beside her, lips pressed in a tight line, he looked at her face, hoping to search for an unspoken answer. Her breath was more steady, less sharp than before, and she looked at him nervously.

“I had a bad dream Ukko,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. “You were—you were yelling and shouting at me—” Her sentences broke out into a sob again, head reburied into her hands.

He felt hurt by this, unsure of why she would ever think that he would purposely try to hurt her. “I wouldn’t do that!”

She jumped slightly at his words, frightened, her tears stuck in silence. Her eyes widened in fear as she started to cry harder, causing him to realize what he had done.

Immediately, regret seemed to fill him as he pulled her close, attempting to comfort her to the best of his abilities.

“No, please, I’m so sorry, enkelini,” he murmured into her hair. His arms were wrapped around her as her head was pressed under his chin. “My sweet angel, I didn’t mean to raise my voice at you, I’m sorry.”

She so badly wanted to pull away from him, locking herself in a room in the house away from him, but she remained there, crying in his arms. His hand grazed her skin gently, moving up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

“I’ll always try to protect you and make you feel safe—” he pressed a kiss to her forehead, “—and I’m really sorry I messed up.”

They both sat there on the porch in silence together, concrete cold beneath them as she sniffled, breaths still unsteady. He held her close, afraid that if he let go, she would slip away from him forever.

Grabbing her hand gently, he brought it up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand, thumb grazing over her knuckles.

“You deserve to be treated like a princess, you know?” His voice was quiet, but steady, confident.

Looking up at him, her eyes were puffy, tired and exhausted. “What do you mean?”

He smiled at her sweetly, eyes warm and soft, creating butterflies in her every time. Swiftly, he picked her up with ease in his strong arms, causing a small laugh to bubble up from her throat.

“Like this, making you laugh, carrying you back into bed with me,” he listed. His cheeks were rosy, as if he had fallen in love with her for the first time again. “You’re my rakas,”

“I can’t understand Finnish, Upie,” she yawned, the lack of sleep catching up to her.

As he set her in the bed, he climbed in with her, arms wrapping around her once more. “It means ‘love’ as in the nickname.” Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he rested his face into the crook of her neck, where he pressed a kiss to her collarbone.

“Get some sleep, hun,” she said, fingers weaving into his hair, gently playing with it. “I wanna get breakfast tomorrow morning at this new place in town.”

He let out a deep chuckle, smiling against her. “Anything for you, my princess.”

[i-spaced-sorry]

Hi

I just wanted to tell you that I love your writing so much!!!!

Also I was wondering if you could please write a Jay Helstead x little sister reader??

Like maybe Jay has had custody of her since she was a baby and now she starts asking questions about their parents. Like why it has only ever been Jay taking care of her and where is her mom? Maybe the reader is like 6, just started kindergarten and maybe this is what stems the question asking (other kids talking about their own parents and asking why the reader only ever talks about Jay)

Thank you for all that you do

this is 100% your choice and feel free to make any changes

Hi! Thanks for requesting! I hope you like it, it kind of went dark! I'm also enjoying playing around with writing time skips, so I hope you enjoy that (if not, sorry)

TW: mention of past abuse, mention of death during childbirth

Title: Why?

“Why” you asked while you sat down to eat your cereal.

Almost dropping the coffee pot, you watched as your brother Jay placed it back on the machine and sighed, “I thought we left this stage when you were 3”

“No, why” you tried again, beginning to whine when your brother didn’t understand your vague question. 

Sitting across from you at the table, Jay placed his coffee down and asked, “why, what? I need more than just a word.”

You chewed your cereal bite and swallowed before you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Why is it just you and me and occasionally Will? What happened to mommy and daddy?”

Jay knew this day was coming. Though he was hoping it wouldn’t happen until you were at least out of elementary school. But he should have known better, 6yr olds are relentless if he remembered his time in school correctly. 

“Uh, just because it was easier this way. Can I ask where this is coming from?”

***

“And where did she say it was coming from?” asked Hailey, while the two of them sat in the surveillance van watching the corner store for their suspect. 

Continuing the look through the binoculars, Jay responded, “some of her friends were talking about how they were excited for some donuts and dads party their class is having in a few weeks.” 

“Okay, follow up question, what did you tell her when she asked?” asked Hailey, putting a pin in the stupid class party that definitely is leaving kids who don’t have dads out. 

Turning to face his partner, he wiped his hand down his face and sighed, “I panicked and told her it was easier this way.”

“Jay. You didn’t answer her question at all.”

“I know, but what was I supposed to say? Hey Y/N, you live with me because mom died during childbirth and dad went off the rails and abused you mentally for the first 3 yrs of your life and it wasn’t until I came home from the War that I realized how bad it had got and now dad is in jail and you have a restraining order against him where if he comes within 50 ft of you, I’m allowed to tackle him and call the police on him? Yea, I’ll pass”

Laughing slightly at her partner's bluntness, Hailey replied, “I’m not saying say all that to your 6yr old sister. But I do think she deserves some explanation”

When she notices her partner opening his mouth to protest, she adds, 

“Age appropriate Jay. Age appropriate.”

**

You were sitting at the kitchen table coloring, while your babysitter for the evening, Stella, was putting together your after school snack. 

“Okay munchkin, here is your snack” she said as she placed your apple slices and peanut butter beside you. Seeing your paper she asked curiously, “what ya coloring there?”

Not looking up you replied, “a picture duh” 

“Okay sassy pants” was all Stella replied before walking away trying to process what you drew. 

When Jay got home, he thanked Stella and walked her to the door. 

“Thanks again, Eva was stuck studying for her final exams and I didn’t want her to be torn away every few minutes to deal with the monkey”

While shrugging on her coat, Stella smiled, “it’s no problem. I like hanging out with Y/N. Though, I don’t know what’s going on with her, but she was drawing some interesting pictures this afternoon”

That caught Jay’s attention, “interesting how?” he probed. 

“Nothing bad, just she was drawing a shadowy figure outside the house, you, Will, and her were inside, but she was crying in her drawing.”

Sighing, Jay replied, “thanks”

And with that Stella left and he shut the door behind her and turned around. 

“Now or never” he muttered. 

Walking over to where you were eating dinner, Jay sat down. 

“Do you want to hear about why it’s just you and me and occasionally Will?”

You looked up from your spaghetti, “Yes!” you just about screamed while nodding your head insistently. 

“Okay, so when you were being born, mommy was not very well. The doctors had to make a decision. And I want you to know the decision that was made is not and will never be your fault.”

You felt tears prick your eyes, “mommy died?” 

Jay felt his own eyes prick, “Yes, but I will tell you as many stories about her. Whenever you want. And I bet you, Will, will too , if you ask him nicely.” 

You stared for a few moments taking everything in. “Okay, so that explains mommy. What about daddy?”

Jay didn’t really know how to appropriately tell you that your dad had abused you, so he went with a toddler age appropriate response and hoped you wouldn’t probe for more. 

“So, when mommy died, I went away right”

“To fight a war!” you inserted!

Nodding, Jay kept going, “yes, to fight a war. So it was just you and dad. But dad was really sad about mom and he did some bad things. Will and I didn’t know what these bad things entailed until I came home and Will came back from school for the summer.”

“Bad things?” you inquired. 

Mentally screaming fuck, Jay calmly replied, “he was hurting and took it out on others and was just not being a good dad. So he had to go away for a long time.”

“But why you? Why not Will or grandma or grandpa?” you probed. 

“Will was still in school and wasn’t in a good spot to care for himself, go to school, and care for you. Grandma and Grandpa both have their own slew of health issues and we thought it would be better if they didn’t have to restart the parenting process. I had come home from the war for good by that time and it was decided I had the most stable housing and money coming in. So that’s how it was decided it would be me, you, and occasionally Will.”

You thought for a few minutes, taking in everything you just learned. When you finally slipped out of your chair, came around the table and hugged your brother exclaiming, “thank you” over and over again.