#so sorry y'all this was in my drafts for a while and i wanted to post something so ya'll would know i'm still here

[ourstaturestouchtheskies]

Illustration of a cemetery from World's Best Music – Helen Kendrik Johnson // the 1 – Taylor Swift // loml – Taylor Swift

[spaceratprodigy]

[ 😇 ] — doodle dump from priv

just some smaller things while I have fun w friends and find my groove again :]

Commission Info | Ko-Fi | My Links

[graciousdragon]

guys...keep your eyes peeled tonight or perhaps tomorrow morning for I Have Cooked Something

[paddockletters]

redeemed | lando norris

serie of this smau summary: After a messy breakup, Lando’s fans blame his best friend for ruining his relationship. request: yes! sorry took me too long :(( tbh, this had been sitting in drafts for a while because i wasn’t entirely convinced about it (still not 100%, to be fair), but i thought, “Well, maybe they’ll like it,” so here it issss

landonorris

Liked by yourusername and 982,273 others

landonorris: Another race weekend!

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user1: I want to be Y/N so baaaad🤧 lando’sgf: love you so muchhhh!!!❤️ user2: Y/N made it again in Lando’s post, love them! user3: I’d love a friendship like Lando and Y/N’s 😭😭😭

yourusername: Great weekend, miss you alredy muppet 🤧❤️

landonorris: It was! When are you coming to visit again?

user4: Lando replied to Y/N but not his gf…💀💀 user5: THE fit, THE smile, THE overtakes 😭 user6: She really needs to back off from Lando and Alice user7: Photo 3 >>> everything else 🫠

lando’sgf posted a story.

yourusername

Liked by carlossainz55 and 76,261 others

yourusername: About last month 💗

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carlossainz55: Feeling special for being in your post 🤧

yourusername: You should, cos it won’t happen again 💀

user8: Lando’s smile in the 3rd photo? how do I sign up for your life? 😭 user9: She can’t post without Lando or some driver in it 🤮

user10: True that, she’s all about the fame

user11: living my dream life AND looking flawless while doing it?❤️😭 user12: always getting in the way of Lando and Alice, proper messing with them 🙄

user13: what are you on about? Lando and Y/N have been friends for yearsss 🤡

user14: well, why didn’t anyone know about her till now? she just wants Lando for the fame, no doubt

landonorris posted a story

lando’s gf posted a story.

lando’s gf

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lando’s gf: ❤️❤️

landonorris

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landonorris: Free time when I’m not driving a F1 car around the world

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user15: Lando— HAHAHA

user16: where’s Alice???

user17: y'all are obsessed with his gf, mind your own business ffs

user18: Bet Y/N’s asking Lando not to take Alice 🙄

user19: giiiirl, touch some grass! Alice has been back in her country

user20: Y/N’s always with Lando, so he’s footing the bill for everything

user21: Everything, mate—GP trips, holidays, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got him paying her rent too 🤮

user22: I wouldn’t want to be Alice, seeing Y/N everywhere around Lando 💀

landonorris just posted a story.

yourusername posted a story

yourusername

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yourusername: [No caption]

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user23: an unexpected crossover user24: Oh, so the gold-digger’s moved on to someone else now? user25: Hope you’re proud of yourself for ruining Lando and Alice’s relationship, biTCH user26: Hope you die

carlossainz55: should I feel proud because you went to a Real Madrid match or bad for "L" because you went out with someone from that team???

carlossainz55: nah, estoy orgulloso

user27: stay away from Lando, you slut

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lando’sex-girlfriend

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lando’sex-girlfriend: A little miracle is on the way, and we couldn’t be more excited. 👼

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user28: Nearly had a heart attack, thought Lando was going to be a dad 😭😭😭 user29: No way, she was the one who cheated 💀 user30: 💀

landonorris

Liked by charles_leclerc and 1,928,388 others

landonorris:  I lost the best thing in my life because of all of you.

Because of your words, your hate, your accusations. You turned her into the villain when all she ever was, was my best friend.

You all tore us apart, pushed me to let go of the one person who truly mattered, all because you couldn’t mind your own business.

And now, seven months later, I see the truth—she was never the problem. I was. I should’ve fought for her. But instead, I let you win.

I’ll never forgive myself for that. I lost her because of you.

—Lando

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user31: lando, you did what you thought was best at the time. We’re all human, and nobody should have been attacking her like that

user32: we judged her without knowing the full story 🤧

user33: can’t believe we believed the lies

user 34: I feel so bad now

danielricciardo: Lando, I’ve got your back. It’s crazy how people act like they know your life when they don’t 🤛

user35: It’s hard to see things clearly when the pressure is on you. Glad you’re speaking out now, nobody deserves that kind of hate, especially someone as good

user36: It’s obvious she meant a lot to you but the media and fans never understood that

user37: We were too quick to judge her

maxverstappen1: People love to talk without knowing the full story. Stay strong, mate, always here if you need to talk 🤜🤜

time skip

landonorris

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landonorris: I don’t think there’s anyone who deserves this more than her. From being the absolute boss she is in everything she touches to owning this year’s CEO of the Year award (seriously, she’s amazing), I couldn’t be prouder I of course I’m the best wag

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user38: YOUR WIFE?!?!? 😱 i can’t even process it. Lando, what’s happening?!

user39: wait, I thought you were single?? How did we miss this??

user40: no… I THOUGHT THE WERE FRIENDSS????

user41: wait a damn minute—Lando’s married??!! And she’s holding CEO of the year??? I need answers 😭

user42: OH MY GODDD She’s literally living the dream!! And Lando, we all knew you were the best, but now you’ve just confirmed it

user43: HE’S MARRIED?!? And she’s CEO OF THE YEAR?!?! You guys are literally goals

user44: i’m happy for you but also I’m crying in my room so… mixed emotions 🫠🧡

user45: Y/N is literally TOO perfect and it’s offensive to the rest of us 😭😭😭

user46: No hate, but also… I’m fighting for my life over here while Y/N is living my dream 😭

user47: @/yourusername you wake up every day and think, ‘how can I flex on everyone today?’ Because wow 💀

[delusional-day-dreamer]

New Year's Kiss - p.b

‣ paige bueckers x reader

‣ wc: 3567

‣‣ synopsis: you were known as one of the calmest, most well-tempered players on the ucon wbb roster. so what happens if you lose your cool for the first time in a game? takes place at the uconn vs notre dame game on dec 31, 2022: based off this post/req from my nonnie 🫶, and lowk inspired by paige's bloody nose at the uconn vs seton hall game!

‣‣‣ a/n: hey guys.... i'm so sorry for being so inactive but the writer's block hit me HARD. I have a few more drafts in progress I hope to release this week, thank y'all SO MUCH for the support and patience! Also, for the opponent in this game i refer to her solely as the, "marquette girl", as i don't know their players that well and don't want to use an irl girl!

Up until the second half of the game, everything had been going decent for you. Sure, this game was one of the most aggressive of the season, but you were right in the peak of your season, so it made sense that emotions were running high with the pressure to do well.

But that didn't excuse the fact that the Marquette girl that had been assigned to defend you had been playing dirty the entire night. After the fucking hellish week you had just gotten through, this girl was about to be the straw that broke the camel's. your, back.

After Paige's acl tear in August and the work and energy you had been endlessly pouring into your game from the past two and a half years till now, you had basically solidified your place as one of the main starters on the team, which meant you were receiving a lot more consistent playing time. The thought of being a more prominent player on the team didn't panic you the way it might others, as you you were known for always being a very level-headed, reliable player under pressure, as you had been dubbed by the media as the "Silent Assassin". But tonight was proving to test your limits to the max.

Any time you were on the court for the first two quarters, the Marquette girl had been glued to you, illegally all up in your space, pushing and shoving at you, taunting you over and over again, and even tripping you once when you lunged for the ball. All of which she had done without receiving a single foul, which not only pissed you off, but also your teammates on the court, the players on your bench, and your coach.

And of course, the one time you had defended yourself against her in the second quarter was the only time the ref called a foul on both of you. She had nearly pressed herself up against you the second your hands came in contact with the ball, leaving you with no choice but to pass to your teammate Aaliyah to sink a layup, when she hooked her arm through yours and pulled just as the ball left your hands.

Her unnecessary aggression caused something to snap inside of you, as the second you felt her yank on your arm, you turned around to push her off of you, hard. She stumbled backwards a little bit, not tripping or hitting the ground in any way, but the damage had been done in the, very biased, eyes of the refs.

The two of you rapidly reacted, approaching each other as you were yelling out meaningless threats and a long string of curses. Thankfully, your teammates holding the two of you back firmly, preventing any further physical altercations.

The two of you both received technical fouls for the unnecessary physical contact and unsportsmanlike behaviour. However, the foul you received only irked you more. Why were the only fouls called on her when it involved you pushing back? Could they not see the way she was treating you the entire game?

And of course, Geno wasn't thrilled about one of his starters getting a tech in the first half of the game. While benched, he had chewed you out for losing your temper at her, especially for cursing, which was something refs never let slide. But his reprimands didn't hold the usual level of anger or frustration, as he internally agreed that the Marquette girl had it coming for her, but, he had to remain professional.

Of course basketball was a physical sport, and with aggression came some conflicts with other players, but her behaviour tonight was unprovoked and incredibly aggravating to you. Which only worsened in the third quarter.

After your tech, you had been trying your best to ignore the incredibly annoying actions of the Marquette girl, but you simply couldn't anymore after she had purposely elbowed you in the nose to make her shot.

You immediately stumbled backwards, folding over at the waist as your hands came up in an attempt to alleviate the intense throbbing your nose felt. You could feel the blood begin to dribble down to your lip as you walked over to the bench with Lou escorting you, awaiting the ref's call.

The refs decided to not call a foul on the other girl, claiming that she hadn't reached backwards on purpose, it was simply the angle of her basket and granted UConn two free throws. The call enraged you, and something inside you snapped. You very quickly forgot about the tissue you were firmly holding at your nostrils as you approached him, insisting with him that the call was blind and blatantly biased.

You hadn't noticed the blood resumed to flow down your face while arguing until it hit your mouth, but you paid no mind to the taste of iron that filled your mouth as you persisted angrily speaking to the ref.

"Paige, go get her before she gets another tech," Geno whispered into Paige's ears over by the bench.

She nodded at him, making her way over to you to pull you away from the ref who was now threatening to eject you from the game.

"Okay enough, you need to get checked out by the team medic," Paige wrapped her arm around your waist to pull you away from your heated conversation, despite your struggle against her. She wasn't that much taller than you, but the extra two ish inches she had on you were proving useful right now.

She dragged you over to the bench, ignoring your many protests. She pried the used, bloody tissue out of your fingers to toss to the medic waste bag, grabbing new ones from her hand to help your bloody nose. It was apparent to everyone on your team, even the fans watching, that your stubbornness wouldn't allow you to accept the call that easily and allow the medic to clean you up. So, Paige would just have to do it herself.

Since your first day on the Uconn campus, you and Paige had become extremely close. With the two of you being assigned roommates your freshman year, the COVID year, it would've been impossible to not become best friends, considering the fact that you spent all of your time together.

If not at practice or hanging out with the team, the two of you were trapped inside your dorm, forced to find company within each other for the entire year. And with Paige's injury her sophomore year, you were one of the only people she was able to open up to, other than Azzi, and you had become her comfort during her rehab time, both then and now. Despite no longer being roommates, you two still always hung out at each other's respective dorm, even having frequent sleepovers.

Your incredibly close relationship wasn't left unnoticed by the media either, especially social media platforms like tiktok. When Paige and Azzi denied the relationship allegations at the same time you made it clear that you liked girls, the internet quickly refocused their attention onto you and Paige, and neither of you had the heart to deny any rumors circulating. Considering that after Azzi, you were the least active on your social media when it came to anything other than basketball, it wasn't too hard to ignore the internet's speculation.

All of which to say, Paige had made it incredibly easy for you to catch feelings for her. Until her, you had never known what it was like to be completely head over heels for someone. The way your heart skipped any time the two of you made eye contact, the way your cheeks flushed when she brushed against you, and the chemistry the two of you shared on and off the court was undeniable.

Unbeknownst to you, she felt the exact same way, and for the last two years, everyone but you two could see the feelings you harbored for each other.

If only you could feel the way her heart was beating as she held your face in one hand, using the other to apply pressure to your nose and wipe away at the blood on your face, neck, and jersey as she listened to you rant about the refs and how they were cheating you guys out of fouls the entire game. Although, she wasn't able to focus on the words coming out of your mouth, only the plumpness of your lips as they moved, something you noticed as your verbal attack slowed down so you could take a breath in between your sentences.

"She's literally fucking stuck up my ass and the refs ignore her which is actual bullshit, the amount of times this girl has literally made unnecessary contact or-, Paige are you even listening to me?"

Her lingering gaze on your mouth quickly snapped up to your eyes, a sheepish smile settling onto her now flushed cheeks.

"Yeah, yeah sorry."

She wiped the remaining blood from around your nose before calling over the medic to check your nose. A small bruise had formed near the bridge, but thankfully it wasn't broken. While she was checking your nose, Paige did her best to avoid meeting your curious stares.

Of course the two of you had small moments where you could envision that Paige felt the same for you. But never one that was so blatantly obvious as her staring at your lips, especially so publicly.

Nonetheless, you barely had time to analyze the interaction before the medic was clearing you to return to the game, Paige patting your butt (this) as you jogged by her to sub back into the game, which, until the handshake line, went without any further incidents, despite your team beating them by 13 points (HVL VS TEXAS Y'ALL).

When passing by you, you heard her mutter under her breath, "fucking bitch," in response to your half-hearted, "good game". It was safe to say you didn't take that well, responding to her with, "you wanna come say that to my fucking face? Pussy ass bitch." For both of your sakes, Dorka and one of her teammates were able to keep pushing the two of you down the line and out to the lockers before the post-game conference with Lou, Nika, and Dorka, which Geno insisted you attend to apologize for your behaviour.

***Small Time Skip***

"So Y/N, the multiple incidents that occured tonight with you and (BLANK) from Georgetown, do you have anything to say about them? I mean, you're known for being a very calm and collected player, but tonight we saw a very different side of you," a reporter questioned you. The questions for you from tonight's post-game conference mostly avoided the fight, treading the waters carefully as it was unlike anything you had ever been involved in.

"I'm not gonna try and cover for myself or anything, it was unprofessional and unacceptable for me to lose my temper on the court like that. Like you said, I've always tried to place an emphasis on just basketball when playing and avoid any other personal feelings or problems, but I guess tonight I didn't do as good of a job on that as I could of. This is something that I will keep in mind for all of our upcoming games as that's not the kind of image or reputation I want to set for myself or the team I represent. I would never want this kind of behaviour to be defining moments from our games because my teammates really put their all into every single one of their games, especially tonight's, and I don't want to create any personal animosity with the girls on the Marquette team, as I have a lot of respect for them."

Your diplomatic and cordial answer had appeased majority of the reporters, along with Geno and the team publicist in the back corner of the room. Except for one nosy reporter who seemed unhappy with your tactful response and was practically feining for drama.

“This one is for y/n, but with the events of today, you mentioned that you try to keep all personal feelings off the court. Is that an implication of some external underlying tension or problems between you and number (BLANK), as the two of you got quite physical today?”

What the fuck? Now they really were trying to start something between the two of you that never existed in the first place.

“No not at all. I have no connection with number (BLANK) off the court and don’t even personally know her. As I mentioned before, I have nothing but respect for the girls at Marquette and there are no hard feelings on my end. You know, basketball is a physical contact game and that just means that there a few rough moments here and there, it’s just part of the game.”

If they ask any more stupid questions about you and the Marquette girl you were actually gonna lose your mind. Especially if they somehow tie in the fact that you like girls with the fight.

Which, thankfully, they ended up dropping the fight for the rest of the interview, and you and the others were finally allowed to go out and celebrate New Year's Eve the way they had originally planned to.

The whole team, and Kayla of course, was prepared to celebrate at your favorite local bar, Ted's. All of the girls who were taken were bringing their partners along and those of you who were single were all ready to hunt someone down for a drunken kiss at midnight. Except you.

You were far too down bad for Paige to even fathom kissing someone else at the moment, especially not while going out with her and the rest of the team, who all knew about your ginormous crush on Paige.

Nonetheless, you still did your best to get ready quickly, wearing your baggiest pair of low-rise cargo pants and a very cropped white halter tank top in an attempt to cheer yourself up from the fact you wouldn't have a New Year's kiss this year, again.

But by the time you were throwing back shots at the bar like they were water, you couldn't find it in you to care about how single you were. It was common knowledge that you weren't the best at holding your liquor, as the team often made fun of your ability to get drunk off of two to three shots, which is exactly the position you found yourself in.

Until, of course, "guardian angel Paige" decided she needed to intervene in your drinkfest, walking up to your barstool and effectively cutting you off by having the bartender replace your drink with a regular shirley temple just before midnight so that she, or any of your other friends, wouldn't have to deal with you throwing up at four in the morning.

"You gotta go easy on the shots y/n/n, you're gonna hate yourself in the morning if you keep drowning your liver in alcohol."

"Funny, coming from Storrs's resident party girl, Miss Madison," you teased. There were only about twenty minutes left until bar's tv would depict the ball dropping in New York, and the disparity of your situation had begun to sink in.

Not only would you be suffering through another New Year's with no midnight kiss, but you had no relationships since last year or even a single talking stage, no potential relationship prospects for the future, and worst of all, no Paige.

"Yeah well, at least I can hold my drinks. You, on the other hand, are the most lightweight out of all of us. Besides, what happened to your little New Years tradition, the whole eating the grapes thing to find the love of your life or whatever?"

You went off on a little drunken tangent at this, complaining that it was completely ineffective, but also, the fact that it made you look stupid in front of the entire team when absolutely nothing came out of it.

"I mean it's so dumb. I don't get why my love life is so barren, like actually non-existent, it's not like I'm super unattractive or anything like that. Right? But like, I don't even have a midnight kiss this year, again," you grumbled to Paige, unaware of the way she was staring at your lips for the second time today, mesmerized by their movements.

"You are most definitely not unattractive. You're like one of the most attractive people I know. Besides, it's not like I'm kissing anyone this year," Paige reassured you, and somehow, your drunk brain simply did not process the way she had flusteredly complimented you.

"Yeah but you're Paige Bueckers," you emphasized, "you could kiss anyone in this bar if you wanted. Men and women, single and taken, would literally form a line two blocks down if you even mentioned wanting to kiss someone," you gazed up at Paige from your leaned position against the bartop, watching as the gears turned behind her eyes.

"Anyone in the bar? Like, anyone at all?" She asked you curiously, a small smirk graced her features as she peered down at you.

"Yeah probably, but there's only like two minutes left or something, so you should pick someone soon."

"Oh I already have someone picked out, I just don't know if they would kiss me back."

"Oh?" You felt your stomach drop at her statement, and you couldn't stop the jealousy from coursing through your veins if your life had depended on it. But Paige's unwavering gaze never left your face, and you could feel your cheeks flush at the way she was intently looking at you.

"Quite the staring problem tonight P?"

"Well it's pretty hard to not stare at the prettiest girl in the room," she flirted, scooting closer to you, effectively closing some of the distance between you two.

"I-, what?" You stuttered, taken back by Paige's actions.

"How many hints does I have to drop before you finally start picking up on them? I want to kiss you y/n, I want you."

The ten-second countdown had begun as Paige confessed to you, and you were left gawking at Paige's face, your heart threatening to give out from how fast it was beating.

"FIVE, FOUR,"

You yanked on Paige's belt loop, pulling her flush against your body as your eyes focused in on her lips.

"THREE, TWO, ONE, HAPPY NEW YEAR'S!""

Your right hand reached up to grab Paige's jaw at the end of the countdown, pulling her lips firmly down onto yours. The bar's loud chants barely registered to you as you lost yourself in the intoxication of Paige's lips. Your tongue glided across her lip as your mouths moved in unison, causing her to groan into you. You took it as an invitation to slip your tongue into her mouth, the kiss deepening with unrestrained passion.

Your built-up need for each other was apparent as you made out, sending shivers down your spine at the pressure of her mouth against yours. It felt as if she was the oxygen you needed to breathe, and now that you had her, there was no way you could let her go now.

***The next morning: New Year's Day***

Your eyes fluttered open with a pounding headache, yet, the utterly familiar weight of a certain pairs of hands around your waist provided a sense of comfort you knew only she could provide.

Paige's soft snores rung out throughout the room, and as you gently reached forward to her nightstand to grab your phone off charging, you realize it was still extremely early in the morning, not even eight a.m.

And yet, your phone was blowing up with notifications from all social media platforms, even your text messages had over a hundred notifications.

Confused, you click on the apps to check what all the fuss was about, quickly realizing what had happened.

The entire interaction between you and Paige at the game was recorded by the cameramen and had instantaneously made it's way all over the internet, only fueling the dating rumors about the two of you.

The comments and posts were going feral at the way Paige was the only one who could calm you down, the way she wrapped her arms around your waist to pull you back, her holding your face ever so delicately, her smacking your butt as you ran back onto the court, and of course, her transparent staring at your lips the entire time you were an inch apart from her.

"What are you looking at baby," Paige sleepily mumbled into your neck, tightening her grip around your waist to pull you further into her, slinging her right leg over your waist.

You put your phone down and turned in her hold, wrapping your arms around her body as you peered down at Paige's sleepy face, admiring how beautiful she always looked.

"Your fans are going crazy about how obviously down bad you are for me P," you teased, running your foot up and down her calf as Paige pressed her face into your chest to absorb your body heat.

"Let them, just go back to sleep with me for a little bit longer."

And of course, how could you ever say no when your girlfriend was asking you so sweetly?

a/n: thank you for reading all the way through, and i'm so sorry if the ending is kinda rushed, i just wanted to finally get another fic out 🤗

[deardev0teddelicate]

the moon and the stars |

jmxf!reader

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader

To you he hung the moon and the stars, to him you were the moon and the stars.

WC: 2.7k

Warnings: blog & my work is MDNI, established relationship, hurt/comfort (?), fluff, sweetheart!joel, no use of y/n, descriptions of pain/headaches/nausea, my emetophobic friends may want to skip this one, established relationship, mention of Ellie/Dina/Tommy/Benjamin/Maria, mention of animal death (rabbit [for food]), pixel joel or hbo joel can be imagined for this

Author's Note: this had been sitting in my drafts for a while now, but i wanted to post something because i'm freaking done with finals (yay!), got a new job (yay!), but unfortunately have been suffering from consistent cluster headaches (not yay),,, so please please please enjoy this self indulgent fic for my headache/tummy ache girlies out there.

i love y'all sm, reach out if you ever want to connect with me,, i'm terrible at reaching out so i'm so sorry but i try i really do <3

You had felt it building up behind your eyes for hours. Your skull was a pressure cooker, as though your bones were pressing in on your brain. The temperature in the house seemed to be steadily rising, causing sweat to bead at the nape of your neck, just under your hairline—despite the shivers that slithered down your spine every minute or so. To say you felt awful would be an understatement.

Joel had the day off from patrol. After he had gone hunting—bringing home a fairly large rabbit—and taken care of a few things around the house, like finally fixing the leaky faucet in the bathroom and replacing the light bulbs in the dining and living areas, he made his way to his workshop to carve the little wooden figures he liked to give to Benjamin. You had your own chores to finish, and although you felt unwell, you didn't want to burden him with even more work. If you had told Joel that you weren't feeling well, he would have made you lie down and taken over your chores without hesitation. He liked taking care of you, but you couldn't help but feel guilty about all the things he did for you without question.

Pushing through the pounding in your head and the fatigue in your muscles, you, effortfully, dusted the windows, swept and mopped the floors, and stripped the bed sheets to be washed. By early afternoon, the sheets needed to be clipped to the clothesline strung between the trees in the yard, and your head felt like it was going to implode. To make matters worse, your stomach was now twisting and turning on itself, threatening to bring back up the contents of your breakfast. Every sight, smell, and touch—everything—was excruciatingly unbearable. It was all getting to be too much for you.

As you stepped back into the house, you made a beeline for the bed room, tears stinging your eyes. Breathing grew more difficult as you paced the length of the room you shared with Joel—door to dresser, back to the door, over and over and over again. Somehow, you found yourself in the darkness of your closet, curling into the far corner and resting your head on the floor. It was a soft comfort, to be hidden and enclosed.

Lying there, arms over your head and knees tucked into your chest, you didn't even notice as you drifted off to a space between the real world and a dreamlike state.

Joel sat hunched over his workbench, eyes beginning to ache behind his glasses from the prolonged, intense focus he had lost himself in. When he finally looked up, the sun was still high above the trees, casting pale white light through the windows of the home he shared with you.

He stood, stretching his tired, creaky back, and walked out into the kitchen, glancing at the clock you'd hung on the wall—6:26. You hadn't started dinner yet. Odd, he thought. Most days, you would've at least asked him to stoke up the fire or start prepping the meat by now. Assuming you simply just lost track of time, he started the fire himself and began peeling the potatoes to to go with the rabbit meat. Humming a soft melody he had heard you singing the day before, he tossed the potatoes and trimmed rabbit meat into a cast iron pot, along with some butter, herbs, and spices.

After hanging the pot on the fire iron, he began looking for signs of you. The sheets outside swayed gently in the soft evening breeze, and he noticed the broom resting against the wall by the back door, rather than in the hallway closet where you usually put it in. Walking into your bedroom, he called your name, only to be met with silence. He peeked into the bathroom, his brow furrowing when you were nowhere in sight. Rubbing the back of his neck, he sighed and glanced back across the room toward the closet.

That's when he saw you and your socked feet poking out from behind his flannels hanging on the bottom rack.

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until he let out a long exhale the moment he laid eyes on you. He strode over to the closet, where you were laying on your side, head buried in your arms.

"Y'alright there, darlin'?" Joel asked, sinking down beside you. You didn't look at him, mumbling something unintelligible. He tried to make sense of what you said, but ultimately gave up and said, "Can't understand you, baby."

He had found you like this before. Every few months or so, he'd discover you curled up in the closet, lights off, rubbing at your temples in a desperate attempt to ease the ache.

"I'll tell y'what," he murmured, gently moving your arm away from your eyes just enough so he could see them unobstructed, "I'll go put on some ginger tea for you, and we can eat dinner. And later, after I make the bed, I'll rub your back for you. That sound okay?"

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, it wasn't from the pain. It was from the unrelenting kindness Joel offered you, day after day, week after week, never once faltering.

"With honey?" you asked, your voice trembling as your throat constricted. Another spill of guilt rushed through you. Here you were, practically incapacitated, needing Joel to take care of you, yet again, on his day off. He deserved rest, a change to turn his mind off…not to carry the weight for the both of you.

Joel just smiled at you softly, and whispered, "Of course, darlin'."

He scooped you up into his arms and carried you to the living room so he could keep an eye on you while he worked in the kitchen. Placing you on the sofa, he left to get you a warm compress—just a warmed towel, really, but it meant the world to you.

"Is Ellie coming for dinner?" You asked weakly, digging your fingers into the space behind the bridge of your nose, hoping for just an ounce of relief. Ellie had been going to Dina's for dinner most nights lately, despite you and Joel extending consistent invitations. Earlier in the day, you had hoped she might've changed her mind, but as much as you loved her, you just wanted to eat, sit, and sleep in silence—something Ellie wasn't the best at.

"No, she's at Dina's again. You want me to call her over?"

"It's okay, don't worry about it. Maybe next week we invite the both of them over."

"If that's what you want, darlin'. I can take off patrol and make us somethin'. Wanna ask Tommy and his crew too?"

The thought of little Benji coming over to the house brought a smile to your face. "Yeah, invite them too. It'll be a Miller family dinner."

But as soon as the words left your mouth, another wave of pain surged, settling sharply behind your left brow. You grimaced, eyes squeezing shut, muscles tightening and seizing up. Joel looked up from the kitchen toward you, then quickly turned back to pour a spoonful of honey into the steaming mug of tea he had made.

As he carried the mug over to where you lied on the soft leather sofa in the living room, he couldn't help but want to savor the moment. He reveled at the thought of attending to you. He loved getting opportunities to take care of you, especially outside of patrol. It made him feel as though he had a sense of purpose. It was almost tangible, real. Something he could gauge in real time through the smile lines on your face and the sparkle in your eyes.

He moved through the steps of plating dinner and eating with you in a comfortable, loving silence. You always preferred the quiet when you felt this way, and if there was one thing that Joel was damn sure he knew he could do for you, it was that. When your meal together was over, he rose to clean up the dishes and to get you another cup of tea.

You had found it to be a struggle to eat more than just a few bites of the meal he prepared—not because it wasn't good; it was delicious. But your body seemed determined to reject anything of real substance at the moment.

Still, you quietly thanked him and tried your bed to keep down what you could of the food he had so lovingly made for the two of you. As Joel cleaned up the dishes, he tried to make as little noise as possible. But the hiss of the water against the pots, and the scrape of the brush against the plates, and the clattering of the silverware against the sink basin made your temples throb and your vision blur.

You made your way toward the bedroom, fingers trailing along the walls of the hallway to steady yourself. Joel was still tidying up, granted much faster now that he caught your migration out of the corner of his eye. If only the black dots in your line of sight would go away, if the nausea that was bubbling up in your stomach like an overheated pot of water would subside, then maybe you'd be able to actually want to lay down and catch some sleep. But all you wanted to do was to pace the length of your room again, willing the pain to go away, to dissipate into thin air.

You paced, breathing in for four counts, holding for four and breathing out for another four. You counted each beat in your head; 1, 2, 3, 4…1, 2, 3, 4…1, 2, 3, 4... Over and over, you repeated to yourself, pacing in the dark. Your stomach clenched, and a wave of discomfort clambered up your esophagus, burning your throat. With little time to think, you bolted for the bathroom, slammed the door behind you, and threw yourself over the rim of the toilet, heaving up your dinner—the dinner that Joel made for you.

Tears stung at your eyes as your body trembled, the cool air against your overheated skin sending a shock through you. It had been a while since one of your headaches had gotten so bad that you became physically ill. But even so, you were grateful. Grateful that you weren't alone when it was happening like usual, and that Joel was home to make sure you were alright.

Everything seemed to feel a little bit lighter with him in the picture.

When you had gotten up earlier, Joel glanced over at you as you made your way to the bedroom, then turned his focus back to the task at hand. He dried each dish with the same care and attention you always put into the very same chores yourself. But the moment he heard the bathroom door slam shut, he gently set the last cup down on the counter before making his own way to the bedroom.

His brow furrowed at the closed bathroom door—no light peaking put from underneath it, only the sound was your soft sniffles and strained, frantic breaths.

Joel knocked on the door gently before letting himself in with a quiet, "Darlin'?" In the dark, he saw your head resting on your arm, your body shuddering with every breath. You turned your head slightly, pressing your ear against your upper arm now. His heart ached, and his features softened at the sight of your pained tears streaming down your face.

Joel took pride in protecting you, in keeping you safe and secure. So when your headaches attacked you with all the stops, he did everything he could to take your hurt away, anything to ease the pain. He couldn't help but feel the little bit of guilt that would eat away at his gut when he couldn't immediately relieve you of your pain.

"It hurts," you simply said in a weakened voice. "I just want it to go away."

"I know, I know," he murmured, kneeling beside you, rubbing your back gently. Every now and then, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear or out of your face. "You're strong, though. You're my strong girl, right? You'll kick this before you know it."

A tear slipped down and over the bridge of your nose as another wave of pressure crashed against your skull.

"Joel, could you—" You winced, eyes squeezing shut. "Could you get me some water? Please?"

"Of course, darlin'," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips as you finally asked him for something. "Y'wanna stay in here or move to the bed?"

"I think I want to go to the bed?"Your voiced wavered making it more of a question than a statement, but Joel didn't mind.

"Okay. Why don't you stay here while I go make it up for us?" He pressed a kiss to your temple before standing up and leaving to grab the sheets and bedding from the clothesline.

Continuing to breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, you listened to the sound of his heavy boots pacing the wooden floors. He moved from corner to corner of the bed fixing it up the way he knew you liked it: fitted sheet, loose sheet, blankets and pillows.

A few moments later, he led you back to the room and helped you change into an old t-shirt of his, your normal sleepwear. After tucking you in beneath the covers, he left and returned shortly with a glass of water in one hand and a damp hand towel in the other.

You sighed at the sight of him. He looked so handsome and domesticated in that moment that, if you didn't feel like straight garbage, you would lure him into bed and kiss him, touch him. You would show him your gratitude through gentle hands and soft, low sounds. But his eyes shone with love when he looked at you looking at him. To you he hung the moon and the stars, to him you were the moon and the stars.

He sat down on the bed beside you, placing the cloth on your forehead and easing you upright just enough so you could drink the water without choking on it. You took a few gulps of water and he smiled, chuckling at you.

"Easy there, darlin', easy."

You laid yourself back down on the bed, resting your head on your folded pillow, reaching for him to follow suit. He obliged, slipping under the covers next to you and propping himself against the headboard. A faint smile graced his lips as you inched your way closer and closer to him, to the point where you were practically laying on his lap, your cheek moving from your pillow to his thigh.

He brought his heavy hand to rest on your shoulder, rubbing into the muscle of your upper back working out the tension. You let out a deep sigh, groaning at the relief he gave you, the pressure behind your eye shifting itself to the back of your head. You inhaled, feeling as though you could breathe for the first time in what fel like hours.

"Thank you," you whispered, sleep lacing your words and weighing down your eyelashes.

"Don't gotta thank me, just doin' m'job," he continued to press his skilled, calloused hands into your back, following the curvature of your spine. "Tell me next time, 'kay? When you get like this? I don't like findin' you on the floor of the closet. I'd rather take care of you from the start."

"It's comfy, though. I like it in there."

"Y'know, you're the strangest person I've ever met," he chuckled, his hands stilling to rest warmly on you. "Just tell me next time, so I'll know where to find you and where to bring you water."

"Yessir," you attempted to joke, though it came out as little more than a whisper.

"Attagirl," he smirked, resting his head back on the headboard, eyes drifting shut as his thumb traced soft, slow circles across your warm skin.

[deadsnakey]

𝐒𝐋𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐒 —> 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎˚ᡴꪫ

ꪆৎ ˚⋅ !fluff ೀ Headcanons. . .ᐟ 0.6k words ┈─★

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

જ⁀➴ was rude to you but would be worse if you turned down his friend request. Js like Harry did.

જ⁀➴ you'd probably team up sometimes if you're also a Slytherin but if you're not then the hatred he has for you is probably worst I'm so sorry. (Specifically as a Gryffindor)

જ⁀➴ in the third year close to fourth year, you guys start being a little more respectful towards each other for whatever reason and that's when your relationship slowly starts forming.

જ⁀➴ once you do start dating after pining over each other for soooo long, he's definitely only nice to you.

જ⁀➴ it took a loonnggg while to get through him and have him open up to you but once he does he lets all of his walls down for you.

જ⁀➴ once he knows he can trust you he starts acting like a true gentlemen, always so gentle and sweet to you and youre low-key a spoiled brat but its ok because its you!!!! he's so so in love with you!!

જ⁀➴ will defend you and your name soo badly like he ain't playing if he so much as get a hint that you're trying to disrespect his amazing y/n he's going straight to disrespectful and dirty and will fight for you if it comes down to it. (though its not preferred.)

જ⁀➴ he's just suddenly the sweetest like ...where's Draco Malfoy and what did you do to him?

જ⁀➴ no but seriously you got teachers and people you've never even interacted with asking you how you did it, yk, what's your secret?

જ⁀➴ like girl only if you knew😭

જ⁀➴ he's big on gifting you things he knows you'll like but on holidays like Christmas, valentine or even your bday? Girllll he's going alllll out nothing is too expensive or too much if anything, its never enough (in his opinion).

જ⁀➴ but that's just because you deserve the world and more and he wants to give you anything and everything you want and need

જ⁀➴ I'd say his love language (giving) would be quality time and love language with a little sprinkle of acts of service.

જ⁀➴ he loves having his hands on you, especially if you're chubby or a little thicker, have more curves ugh his hands won't leave you even in public.

જ⁀➴ he has no problem doing stuff for you, ask and you shall receive!!! Even if he's mad at you or sum he'll still do what you ask of him or if you're pissing him off, it doesn't matter.

જ⁀➴ now, with quality time this is specifically alone.

જ⁀➴ yeah, it's fun hanging with you and friends but he loves it even more when it's just the two of you, doesn't matter where y'all are, just hanging out.

જ⁀➴ you don't even have to be talking or cuddling. Literally just doing your own things near each other gives him comfort.

જ⁀➴ although, he wouldn't mind giving you a few cuddles or kisses from time to time. He's I N L O V E with you bae!!!!

જ⁀➴ carries your books or bag, he insists.

જ⁀➴ does not give one Doggystyle damn if your or his friends tease or make disgusted faces at y'all being lovey dovey or even just a simple interaction. He's gonna show his girl off!!

જ⁀➴ if your e a Gryffindor, your friends probably hate him and only tolerate him because they care about you and your happiness, and clearly, you're pretty damn happy!!!

A/n: I finally decided last minute to finish this and post this as its been rotting in my drafts for months!! Lmk what you thought!

[dixons-sunshine]

Mouth To Mouth | Young!Daryl Dixon x Young!Fem!Reader

Summary: The moment seemed all too perfect. You and Daryl had just confessed to each other and were sharing your first kiss with each other. It was too bad that your mom had terrible timing, and walked in at the wrong moment.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Pre outbreak.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams universe.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sexual innuendos.

A/n: Here's the long awaited (wanted by, like, two people) fic about what happened when the mom walked in. I hope y'all enjoy! I really hoped to have my ex!celebrity fic with Daryl ready, but my draft never saved and I lost 2000 words, and that really discouraged me, so I worked on this little fic instead. Also, if anyone would want it, I have so many personal headcannons for this universe, so if anyone wants to see them, let me know.

As always, my requests are open for any TWD requests, as well as Scud Frohmeyer requests.

—

“Mom, please don't freak out. I can explain.”

Your mom raised her eyebrows at you, crossing her arms over her chest. She looked at the position you were in and nodded sarcastically, an amused smirk creeping onto her face.

“I'm sure you can,” she mused, her eyes flickering between you and Daryl. “This totally doesn't look like the two of you were just making out. You were just giving him mouth to mouth, right? Teaching him how to do CPR? Or you just slipped and happened to slam your lips against his.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Daryl duck his head in embarrassment, his face flushed with a blush. You could feel heat creeping onto your cheeks as well, your mom's knowing stare penetrating into your soul. You knew that your mom probably didn't care that you and Daryl were kissing, but that didn't mean that she wasn't going to pretend to go into "protective mom" mode. She loved doing it to embarrass you a little bit.

“Mom,” you drawled in embarrassment, sending her a pleading look. “Please don't.”

“What, I walk in to find my daughter and her friend chewing on each other's faces, which will probably scar me for life, but I can't lay down some guesses for what your explanation would've been? How's that fair?”

“Fine, yes, we were kissing, but you don't have to make such a big deal out of it. It's not like I haven't walked in on you getting busy with Mr Prescott,” you retorted defensively, sneaking glances at Daryl who remained silent, his eyes nervously flickering between you and the floor.

Your mom let out a small laugh and shook her head. “Touche, sweetheart,” she nodded, shifting her attention to Daryl. “Daryl, I'm not gonna bite your head off if you look at me.”

Daryl reluctantly rose his head, a nervous glint in his eyes. He was fidgeting with his hands, picking at the loose skin on his thumb and you had to resist the urge to take his hand in yours to stop the nervous gesture. You didn't want to give your mom more ammo to tease you with.

“There, that's better,” your mom mused, taking a step closer. “Now I can see those blue eyes of yours that my daughter wouldn't stop raving about. I'm honestly surprised that it took her this long to make a move. She's liked you for quite a while now. She would never shut up about you when you left.”

“Mom!” you complained, sending her an exasperated look. “Can we not?!”

Your mom simply let out another laugh. “What? It's adorable!”

“Mom, please,” you pleaded, sneaking another look at Daryl. His gaze had returned to the floor, but you didn't miss the small smirk that was on his face.

“Alright, alright. I'll lighten up,” she reluctantly agreed, turning around to grab something from the table. “Sorry to have interrupted your "totally not making out" session. I need to get back to work anyway. I forgot a folder my boss needed. But after today, I'm suspecting that this will become a regular thing, so I won't ever be forgetting folders or anything ever again. My eyes won't ever recover.”

“Goodbye, Mom!” you exclaimed in embarrassment, hiding your face in your hands.

“Remember to use protection, kids! I'm not ready to be a grandma just yet,” your mom chuckled and left, leaving you and Daryl alone.

The air was charged with an awkward silence. You dared a look at him and saw him nervously fiddling with his hands, but the small smile from earlier still remained. He turned his head and locked eyes with you, his gaze holding a certain amount of mischief to it.

“So, ya have been ravin' 'bout me to yer mom?” he said with a hint of playfulness, finally breaking the silence between you. “Wha' have ya been sayin'? Ya been talkin' 'bout my rugged good looks? Dun' worry, by the way. I won't tell nobody tha' ya have a secret crush on me.”

You took one of the pillows from the couch and threw it at him. Daryl effortlessly caught it and laughed—not chuckled, but actually laughed—and dropped it down next to him. Before you could retort with a sarcastic remark, Daryl leaned forward and captured your lips with his, silencing any and all thoughts you had.

You returned the kiss easily. However, you pulled away after a few moments, lightly shoving him back with a playful smile on your face. You stood up and extended a hand to him, which he took without any hesitation. You pulled him up and lead him to your room, closing the door behind you. You gently urged him backwards and pushed him onto your bed, watching him comply easily.

A nervous look flitted across Daryl's eyes. You instantly caught it and gave him a reassuring smile, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek.

“Relax, pretty boy. We're not doing anything like that tonight,” you reassured him, stepping closer in between his legs. “My mom just caught us kissing. Do you really think I want to risk her walking in on something like that in the same night?”

Daryl exhaled a sigh of relief, looking up at you. “Then wha' are ya doin'?”

You smiled at him and gently urged him down, letting his body fully lay down and his head rest on the pillow. You got in on the other side and rested your head on his chest, getting comfortable against him. You felt him stiffen slightly, feeling his hand hover over your waist uncertainly.

“Relax, Daryl. We've cuddled before.”

“Yeah, but s'different now,” he whispered, his hand still hovering over your waist. “This ain't friend cuddlin' no more. S'couple cuddlin' now. I dun' wanna do anythin' to make ya uncomfortable.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss against his clothed chest, nuzzling your face deeper into it. “I'll tell you if you do, but you can touch me. I won't bite,” you assured him, feeling his hand finally rest on your waist before adding in a teasing manner. “Not unless you want me to.”

Daryl inhaled sharply, his grip on your waist momentarily tightening before relaxing again. “This gon' be a regular thing now? Ya teasin' the shit outta me?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, eliciting a chuckle from him.

“Yer gon' be the death of me, girl,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “But I guess I'll allow it.”

“Good, because I'm not stopping. I love seeing you blush like that, handsome.”

“Stop,” he groaned, burying his face into your hair.

“Stop making you get all flustered like this?” you asked, shaking your head. “Not when it's this adorable.”

Before Daryl could say anything else, you rolled away from him, flicking off the lamp before settling into your side of the bed. You got comfortable, closing your eyes. “Goodnight, handsome.”

A few moments of silence passed, before you felt him shuffle behind you. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, spooning you from the back. He pulled you closer to him, breathing in your clean scent before finally whispering something back.

“Night, beautiful.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

[grim-reapers-wife]

Texting (Bakugou x fem reader)

Summary: Bakugou texting and sending pics back and forth with reader

____________________________________________ 🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

Bakugo who slowly starts reconnecting with the cute girl from UA.

Giving you his number so you can decide of you want to text or not.

Smirks when you do text a week later while he's sitting in his office.

Y'all start texting and calling every day and even go on a couple of dates.

Catching himself thinking about you more and more. Texting you when he gets off work. ____________________________________________ 🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

7pm: "Just got off work, heading home for the day."

Calling you while he cooks dinner, and loving the sound of your laughter.

Taking a Saturday off for the first time in months to take you out for the whole day.

Spends his time thinking of what you're doing and wishing you were with him in his home.

Borderline obsessed.

Thinking about you before he falls asleep and texting you as soon as he wakes up. ____________________________________________ 🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

6am: "Mornin' pretty. Have a good day at work today."

____________________________________________ 🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

Tells you when he's just got to work and tells you to text him when you're available.

Huffs throughout the day and keeps checking his messages to see if you've texted.

Gets off work and goes to the gym to stop thinking about you but you follow him through every work out.

Tries to act nonchalant when he hears the ping of your message but still almost quits halfway through a rep to read it.

When he finally does he's met with a cute picture of your matching pajamas and warm smile.

He sends one back even though he thinks he's sweaty and gross from the gym. ____________________________________________ 🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

8pm: "You look cute. Sorry I'm a little gross."

____________________________________________ 🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤🧡🖤

Note: ʚ This has become so enjoyable for me!! I've been writing just whenever I feel like it and it's really cute. As always I hope you enjoyed and if you have any critiques KINDLY lmk. Credit to the artists, two of the pics have a name/socials but one of them I don't know the creator 😔 I got them off Pinterest and I don't think the poster is the original artist. ɞ

Edit: This has been in my drafts since I started this journey, I’m posting it now instead of keepin' it because I'm probably taking a break.

[night-night-stories-before-bed]

The window is always open

Warning ⚠️; None, just fluff and fatherhood

Pairing; None, Damian Wayne & Gn!Vigilante!Reader (Father figure$

Summary; You always leave your window open in case one the batkids would need to come in for emergencies. Yet, Damian use it all the time.

Credit @cafekitsune

Note; my doctor scare the living shit out of me, so I wrote this to calm me down.

Note 2; I’m dying, wtf was that bug? Why did a part of a draft updates here??? I am so sorry y'all! I do not know how that happened honestly 😂

You stood in front of your door, hand on the doorknob, knowing something was amiss. You frowned and listened attentively. You heard a soft sound, like little footsteps, from your kitchen which made you relax as you knew who it was. You unlocked the door and got inside, taking off your coat and boots.

- “Damian, I thought we spoke about it already. The window is open but only for emergencies and I doubt stealing my take-out fall in that category,” you gently scolded as you entered your kitchen.

You switched the lights on and crossed your arms staring at the teen as he hate your take-out. Damian stared back at you, not giving a single fuck.

- “Nah, but avoiding an angry Bruce,” Damian replied and you sighed.

- “What did you do this time?” You asked, leaning your shoulder against the wall.

Damian rolled his eyes and offered you no reply. You sighed and went to make you some food, giving some to the kid to decide whether or not to tell you why he ended up running away from his father. But Damian said nothing as long as you cooked, not even as you sat down.

You ate in silence, eyeing Damian up and down. No bruised, no injuries and no signs of him being hurt. So why was Bruce angry after his son? At some points the sound of a notification caught your attention and you knew who it was before looking at it. Bruce was asking you if Damian was at your place and you reassured him that he was and to not come, that Damian was sleeping here.

The bat left you on read.

Yeah, that wasn't good.

- “Bruce ain't coming to get me, right?” Damian asked with a small voice and you shook your head.

- “Nah, I told him to not come and that you were sleeping at my place tonight. I’ll take you to school in the morning, don’t worry,” you reassured Damian and he nodded at that.

You two finished eating in silence and cleaned the dishes before you sat back down and helped Damian with his homework. Not that he needed help but he did need the company you realized and you couldn't bear the silence anymore. So, homework it was.

You were glad to be out of school, the new subjects seemingly more boring than they were in your time, and somewhat harder. Maybe it was the wording, you thought.

Before you realize it, they were done and you allowed Damian to watch the TV with you for a while. You knew he wouldn't sleep anyway, so where was the harm?

The teen picked a series you ignored all about and, just for you, played it from the start. You enjoyed listening to Damian explaining what was going on when things confused you, the series was clearly one of his favourite subjects and you wondered if he had no one to talk with about it. It wasn't long before Damian ended up snuggling against your side, tucked under his blanket, slowly dozing off. You wrapped an arm around his frail shoulders and he sighed.

- “We got into an altercation, with Bruce I mean, and it’s my fault,” Damian ended up admitting as he yawned. “I think he want to send me back to my mother.”

- “Oh, Damian, don’t be say that. Your father love you very deeply, he just sat on a stick and never got it out,” you replied, passing your fingers through his hair. “Besides, you really think I would allow him to send you away like that? He’ll have to fight me before being able to take you to the airport,” you tried to reassure him and Damian snorted.

- “He’ll kick your ass,” he pointed out, sighing and closing his eyes.

- “Bolt of you to assume he’ll win. I too have contingency plans!” you declared with a smile.

Damian chuckled at that and his hand found your shirt. You looked down and watched as he clenched his fist tight on the fabric as if he feared you would disappear. You pulled him closer to you, stroking his shoulder.

- “I promise sweety, Bruce is not going to send you away,” you swore and Damian buried his face against your side.

- “But I… disobeyed. I went out alone without him and I told him I hated him. Why would he keep me?” Damian asked with a little voice and it broke your heart.

- “Damian, your father love you and he heard way worse from Jason, Dick and even Tim. Trust me, his only thoughts must be that you are getting “into that age”, and I bet he wasn't angry, but scared. I would have snapped too knowing you went alone playing vigilante. You know how dangerous Gotham can be,” you scolded him and Damian groaned.

You hoped you understood what you didn't say; Bruce had lost Jason once, the scar hadn't healed even if Jason was back from the dead. It wasn't hard to see he was terrified the same thing would happen to his actual son.

- “C’mon, you’ll see. Tomorrow Bruce would have calmed down and you two can speak. Before long you’ll be laughing about tonight,” you promised and Damian said nothing.

Against you, you felt the teen relax, his body going limp against you and his breath became deeper. You smiled, realizing Damian was succumbing to exhaustion. You pulled his blanket higher, wrapping it correctly around him. You leaned down and kissed his hair, wishing Damian a good night with a smile, knowing he would be fine once morning came.

[py-dreamer]

...um...hi?

so if anyone's concerned, no I'm not dead.

Thankfully the digital studio is intact this year (thank god I would've had another mental breakdown istg-)

to all my lovely marshiemallows, thank y'all so much for your patience omg!!!!

(and to all my mutuals, @furornocturna and @violetjedisylveon in particular I'm so sorry I haven't been responding or active online at all, I'm so sorry-)

But to sum it up:

I'm on holiday in my home country rn and have been having a blast personally. Meeting relatives, childhood friends, the food, familiar places ect.

and I'll admit I do have a lot of free time outside that but honestly I do feel a wee bit burnt out ngl.

And with my spare time, I've jumped down the demon slayer rabbit hole

(huh who would've guessed)

Basically it's all been a huge break for me.

But I will still post lmk stuff dw. Though don't be surprised if you see a kny thingy pop up somewhere in the dreamscape!!

And for those curious about the fic:

I'm sorry I haven't updated at all, the wips are still in my drafts. I have no formal posting schedule but after returning and getting some work sorted out I'll see what I can do! But no promises!

Regardless, about the pic then.

It is a WIP. It's a sketch for a shadowalkers piece (Wooh! Haven't heard of that au in a while eh?)

I have redesigned mostly Bai He's outfit and added a little pouch for Macaca. The change was mostly so I had more freedom to do different top designs for the new members of the fam!

If anyone has suggestions for outfit designs or accessories or jewelery, hair, anything! let me know pls!

This is just the WIP stage and I really want to achieve that semi-wild, untamed but mysterious and refined gypsy look.

(Also its a guilty pleasure of mine to dress up my characters in aus or just for the fun of it lol)

And fun fact: Wukong's the only one in the fam wearing shoes lol.

Another fun fact: That brick pattern rag he's wearing? Was once a part of tripitaka's cassock from their days on the mountain. (see shadowalkers lore summary for context)

I didn't forget their tails this time! Wheeee!!

Oooh! Ooooh! Also the top half of Wukong's body? I did that myself sans references!!! Woooooooh!!!

Not that there's anything wrong with references of course. Pros and beginners use them and I do recommend them for poses, ideas and such.

Though I am proud I could think of something off like memory and make it work! I think...you can tell me otherwise lol

(BTW this is the after of the main plot where shadowpeach reconciles, they escape the town and Bai He gains a new stepbrother!)

SH!T I REALIZED I FORGOT MEI!!!!

UM I'LL ADD HER IN!! PROMISE!!!!

[blorbogirl]

TPTM BLORBO #5: THAT GIRL

'nother girl fresh off the press

this is nicole from class of 09, requested by anonymous!

i was really into class of 09 for a while and though i stepped away for a bit around when flipside dropped i still like it a bit. so this was fun! oh and nurse bnuny first girl ww

tw/cw for: suicide, mentions of drugs, general themes of hopelessness

it was suprisingly difficult to settle on a theme for her since co09 has quite a few things going on and i had a few different drafts before i settled on this one. my idea is that it would take place around when the flipside would (but the flipside is NOT canon to it!!! i would never do that to y'all.), so everyone's graduated high school and is preparing to go to college and stuff. in this world i think jecka's dad/parents (unclear whether they're divorced here or not and that's intentional-- i wanted to make nicole seem kind of "insular" in her mental state, for lack of a better word, so she doesn't know.) are making her try when previously she wouldn't have, so nicole feels very... on her own. she doesn't have any other connections, she doesn't have anything that really truly makes her happy, and she most certainly doesn't have any goals for the future. it was inspired by my memory of a few different scenes/endings in the games but not really any particular one. it would be cheap to just take one of her monologues from one of the endings and use it as the journal entry so i. didn't do that. but okay yeah here's the carrds and eval

I FUCKED UP THE FORMATTING OF THE EVAL AND NOW EVERYTHING'S OFF BUT IT TOOK ME TOO LONG TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO GET THE IMAGE GOOD TO WANNA BOTHER FIXING IT NOW SORRY AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME

[athenagc94]

Dear Daddy Long Legs - Chapter 7

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

I'm also posting this story on AO3 which you can find here.

This is one of the first scenes I imagined when drafting this fic, so I've been very excited to share it with you guys.

Also sidenote: Y'all thought I was gonna leave out my other hyper-fixation? Have fun reading about these poor saps bonding over the Odyssey :)

First | Prev | Next

Chapter 7

The scrape of steel on steel jolted you awake. Immediately followed by a dull, throbbing at the base of your neck that sent a shock down your spine. You fell back with a small grunt as you closed your eyes once more. Starbursts painted the back of your eyelids. A train passed outside, rattling the framed pictures on the walls. It was a familiar sound that lulled you to sleep every night.

You would have remembered coming home. Right?

Carefully, you pushed yourself onto your elbows and tried again. The light on your nightstand was offensively bright. A searing prong shoved through both eyes would have been less painful than whatever this was.

“Too bright?” A voice modulator crackled. “Sorry. I’ll turn it off.”

Jesus Christ. This couldn’t be happening.

You opened your eyes despite the pain. It took a second to adjust to the darkness, but when you did, you saw him. Red Hood crouched by your head; his shoulders curled to appear less imposing which only worked insofar that he didn’t look like he wanted to kill you. It was still unnerving, having him this close. The scent of old leather and motor oil clung to his collar. You wrinkled your nose, overwhelmed.

He shifted back onto his knees, the gesture oddly shy. “Uh, hey.”

“Why are you in my apartment?”

“There was a hostage situation at Wayne Manor. You took a hit to the back of the head. I decided to bring you back here.”

His words took a second to fully sink in, but when they did, you ghosted your fingers along the soft patch of skin at the nape of your neck. It was tender to the touch—bruised for sure—but as far as injuries went, it could have been far worse.

Several memories resurfaced and slotted together like pieces in a puzzle. Mark flirting with you over a crate of booze, a knuckle tattoo, the crack of a gun, and fucking Brendan.

“I’m an idiot.”

Hood lifted his hand as if he might touch you, but he hesitated just before he made contact. You both stared at his outstretched hand, a heavy silence between you. His fingers curled as he let his hand fall. He cleared his throat. “None of this was your fault.”

“No, part of it was definitely my fault,” you admitted, “I wouldn’t have taken a blow to the head if I hadn’t drawn the shooters attention away from the target. I tried to play hero, and it backfired.”

“You did that on purpose.” His modulator pitched.

You doubled over, gripping your head in your hands. “Ugh.”

“Sorry.” He softened his voice for your sake. It only helped insofar that he wasn’t causing active distress anymore. “Why would you do that on purpose?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really think. I just acted.” You groaned and fell back against your pillow. “Funny thing is, I should have been in class, but my boss called me in to train the new recruits.”

Recruits who ended up being members of a notorious gang. What had your life become?

“I should have told him to pound sand.”

“You skipped cl—” He stopped himself before he caused another pitch in his modulator. Instead, he fumed quietly, each breath sharper than the last as he curled and uncurled fists.

While this wasn’t your first lecture from him, his reaction surprised you. Hood didn’t strike you as the scholarly type—not that you claimed to know anything about him. For all you know, he could have a PhD in political science or medicine. Most of the supervillains in Gotham were well-known academics. The same could apply to morally gray vigilantes.

Finally, he said, “Why would you skip class? Couldn’t someone else take your shift instead?”

“Our veteran server quit, so it had to be me,” you countered sharply, “I’m also not in a position when I can turn down an extra shift.” With a quick wave, you motioned to your shitty studio. It wasn’t much, but you tried. He glanced around as if he were seeing it for the first time. You supposed there were more pressing things to focus on than your tastes in thrifted décor.

“Why would you bring me home? I should have stayed at the manor until the paramedics arrived?”

He fiddled with his gloved fingers. You clocked the bad habit soon after meeting him. Watching someone as comically large as Red Hood get nervous was oddly endearing, not that you were ever going to tell him that. He’d either die of embarrassment or shoot you for pointing it out.

“Your, uh, coworker mentioned you didn’t have family in the area, so I assumed you didn’t want to pay for an ambulance ride and an overnight stay at the hospital. And you’d probably hate it even more if Bruce Wayne paid for it given you…” He made a vague, flourishing gesture with his hands. “Well, considering the conversations we’ve had.”

He caught on faster than you expected. You never imagined the person who understood you was also the one who spent his nights dual-wielding guns whilst parading around Gotham. A bitter laugh crept into your throat, but you smothered the urge, knowing the effort would make your headache worse.

“Alright, you were right to make that assumption.”

“I bet you’re regretting skipping class, huh?”

You shot him with a narrow look that told him to drop it. “No need to rub it in. I didn’t want to skip.”

From the tension curling in his shoulders, you sensed he had more to say on the matter. The air fizzled and sparked between you as you waited for him to speak, but he resisted the urge. Good. You weren’t in the mood for another lecture, and he seemed to sense that.

“Besides, I think I’m already paying the price. This was a one-time thing and now, I’ll have to miss a few more days while I recover. I don’t want to fall behind on my readings and coursework, but here we are.”

Your temples throbbed, despite the reprieve of darkness. Focusing too long on any one thing made the room spin. It was nauseating. As much as you wanted to escape in a book, that wasn’t going to happen tonight.

“What are you reading?” he asked after a moment.

You motioned toward the stack on your kitchen table. Most of the books had been thrifted from the shop down the street. Your scholarship didn’t cover reading materials, and you balked at the prices at the school store.

“The Red Tent for my women’s history class and The Odyssey for my English class.”

“Which translation of The Odyssey?”

“Robert Fitzgerald.”

He made a small noise of disgust, amplified by the modulator. “He translated it well, I guess, but I prefer Emily Wilson’s take on the epic. It’s creative, but there’s a certain musicality to her prose that I admire.”

You… didn’t know how to respond to that.

Red Hood was the last person you expected to have an opinion on classical literature. Sure, it kind of made sense the longer you talked with him, but the vibes of tortured poet and rugged vigilante didn’t quite mesh in your mind. In fact, you were fairly certain this was all a concussion-induced dream. It just happened to include Red Hood.

And if this was a dream, like you assumed it was, there was no harm in playing along.

“You’ve read multiple translations of the Odyssey?”

“Duh. At least three in English, another in Spanish, and one in German. Hasn’t everyone?” He shoved off your bed and walked toward your kitchen table. “Comparison is a crucial element when it comes to translated works. People interpret language differently and it’s fun to read those different interpretations.”

He grabbed the book from your pile and flipped through it gingerly, almost reverent in the way he handled it. “Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story of that man skilled in all way of contending, the wanderer, harried for years on end, after he plundered the stronghold of the proud height of—”

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your readings. Take it from me, reading with a concussion fucking sucks.”

“Oh.”

Oh—that was the best response you could come up with?

You stared at your hands so he wouldn’t see your blush. An offer like that was, well, it toed a line. Which line? You couldn’t exactly say, but there had to be one given the Red Hood had offered to read to you so casually. The man was a walking contradiction of himself with the broad frame that barely concealed the raw awkwardness that lay beneath. It felt familiar, but your mind was too foggy to draw a connection.

This had to be a dream. You refused to believe anything else. There wasn’t a reality where Red Hood, or anyone for that matter, offered to read The Odyssey outside your dreams.

Fuck it.

Might as well test the bounds of your dreams.

“I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but it’s kind of hard to listen with your…” You motioned toward his helmet. “The modulator is a little hard on the ears.”

He gave you a long look. It was moments like this you wished you could see the expression beneath. Maybe this was the line. Asking him to remove his helmet wasn’t just a risk to him, but to you as well. Anonymity to a certain degree protected you. You understood that, and yet you asked anyway.

“I’m sorry,” you started, “Forget I asked.”

A lot of things could have happened next. You shuffled through all of them in the span of a few seconds, none of which were all that pleasant. Him ducking behind the couch and laying flat on the floor was not one of the scenarios you pictured.

You sat a little straighter, only able to see his heavy combat boots sticking out from one end. “Uh… Hood?”

Several seconds passed before he said, “Is this better?”

There was no modulator this time. His words weren’t even muffled. His natural voice settled low in his chest, punching on the vowels and softened the consonants. A pleasant zing rippled through your blood.

The man had a prominent Jersey accent. While not uncommon for the area, confirming it thrilled you more than you expected. Another piece to the puzzle that was Red Hood.

The realization hit you harder than the gun had. You muffled a gasp in your palm. He removed his helmet... for you. You had no intention of seeing the man hidden beneath the mask. Knowing that he trusted you at all made you a little light-headed.

“Much better.”

“Right. Okay.” He paused. “Can I—not that I don’t, but can I trust you not to—”

“I promise not to look,” you assured him.

What went unsaid hung thick in the air and threatened to smother you. You settled on your side, pointedly ignoring the fact that Red Hood was laying on your apartment floor. As far as dreams went, this one was bizarre, but the thought of waking up and being forced to face reality hit harder than you expected.

Selfishly, you didn’t want it to end, and that frightened you.

“Now, where were we.” You heard the shuffle pages before he said, “Here we go. He saw the townlands and learned the minds of many distant men, and weathered...”

You closed your eyes to focus on the mental pictures he painted with words alone. His lilting voice read with the confidence of someone who’d read these passages a hundred times over. And maybe he had. It was easy to get lost in the story—in n the inviting warmth of his honeyed words. It wasn’t long before you succumbed to them like a siren’s song.

It was unclear when exactly you drifted off, but when you startled awake a few hours later, your apartment existed in the stillness of dawn. Thin strips of sunlight filtered through your blinds. You blinked blearily, a headache pressing down on your temples as you sat up.

As you peered around your apartment, deciding where the dream ended and reality began, you settled on the book left on your nightstand. The Odyssey. You grabbed it, flipping open to the spot that someone had marked with a crumpled Bat Burger receipt. It certainly wasn’t yours.

You flipped it over to find a hastily scrawled note on the back in red ink. Take it easy. Rest. Drink water. Pain meds as needed—just don’t overdo it. I left off on page 29, line 317. –RH

RH.

Red Hood.

Not a dream then...

All of it was real. He brought you home and watched over you until you woke up. He read books and had opinions on classic literature. He took off his helmet for you. Your flush bled down your neck and settled in your chest. That meant his damn accent was real too.

Fucked. That’s what you were.

Burying your face in your book, you flopped back on the bed. The knot at the nape of your neck twinged, but it failed to put you out of your misery.

If Hood knew what was good for him, he’d stay away. If you knew what was good for you, you’d do the same. So, you did what you always do with problems you didn’t want to deal with. It went in a box, and you tucked away in the far recesses of your mind to deal with on another day.

[carmenized-onions]

It’s been a little while since you’ve posted on here so I hope you are doing well and taking care of yourself!!! 💖

my darling loves, I'm so sorry

I'VE BEEN SO EMBARRASSED. I HAVEN'T WANTED TO SHOW MY FACE AROUND THIS TOWN BECAUSE I'VE GOT NOTHING TO SHOW FOR MYSELF AFTER TAKING SUCH A LONG TIME AWAY FROM YOU ALL.

I've been. violently busy. in a good way, mostly. One of my jobs is the best job in the world and the other one is such a bitch it makes me scream every day forever.

but i'm also spending time with friends and enjoying life !

My mom also finished her last chemo appointment just a few weeks ago!!! YIPEEE!!!! Her CT Scans look GOOD!! so no chemo for the foreseeable future. She's unfortunately got the type of cancer that doesn't go away, but at the very least, it's MANAGEABLE. And that's a huge win. I'm very very grateful.

I ALSO FOUND A THERAPIST!!! gone to 2 sessions so far. every session she uncovers a new fucked up facet of me and honestly, can anyone else relate to this, it's sort of nice for someone else to look at your life and go like "oh wow. oh wow there's like. there's like so much here." like it feels good to think oh hurray. i'm not crazy. life IS fucked!

MY BROTHER MOVED!!! this took up a lot of my time, honestly. i love him and my nephew and my sister in law dearly. so i spent a long time making their gifts. i'm silly.

OUR CAT GOT SICK!!! HE'S GOT PEE CRYSTALS CAUSE HE'S OLD!!!!! HE'S DOING OKAY NOW THOUGH!! HIS STUPID URINARY FOOD IS SO EXPENSIVE THOUGH!!!

ANYWAYS. those are my major life updates right. So what's with the no chapter happening??

i. hated. the draft i'm working on so much. that i didn't work on it for like. a month.

and then in a haze. i left myself this voice to text note in my notes app as i was falling asleep one night.

then i hated that too. a week passes. perhaps two, actually.

i finally gain the courage one night to read my draft over.

it's actually not bad at all

it's actually pretty good

some scenes definitely need reworking but that's because i need to fully realize some character feelings

I just had really intense writers' block and fatigue, honestly. But i'm finally writing and EXCITED about it, again. I'm pulling that shit up on my commute and writing whenever i can. which makes me really happy. i was not loving the way it felt like a chore, for a minute there.

that said.

100% going to be more realistic with this chapter waiting timeline, and put a 'hiatus' or some sort of 'delays' tracker on my landing page. cause like. i keep saying check back in 2 weeks. and that's not fair to me or you girl. let's keep it real.

i think we're like.... hm... 50-60% there. (i'll update my landing the day after this post, it's late and i'm eepy)

i MIGHT write some blurbs in the mean time, it really depends. i keep having ideas and then they blink out of existence. perhaps send ideas. i might do something with them.

BUT YES I AM OKAY AND ALIVE. My silence came from a LOT of life stuff getting in the way and also a lot of honestly embarrassment. i hate coming out here over and over and being like haha. i've got nothing <3

but i know that y'all will understand, and i need to trust in y'all's patience more. and i'm GONNA!!!

gonna try to start up my 'answering one ask a day' trend again. except wednesdays. i work late on wednesdays so fuck that. but perhaps all the other days you'll hear from me.

alright. i'm going to shut up now. was any of this coherent? i don't know. thank you for listening!! i missed you dearly!!

[thanergetic-hyperlinks]

Valentine the Ninth

Tamsyn wrote 30k of a 50k divergence AU while working on Nona/Alecto:

I did end up writing a total divergence when I was writing Nona, back in 2020, because I wanted to make sure my clockwork made sense — I wanted to make sure that if you wound up Gideon and Harrow and put them on a slightly different route the laws of the universe would still flow accordingly. (I stopped writing because when your editor asks how you’re doing and you’re like “I stopped to write 30k to prove a timeline” he’s legally allowed to shoot you with a crossbow.)

—from https://www.vox.com/culture/22901210/nona-the-ninth-cover-reveal-tamsyn-muir-interview-locked-tomb-series

NZ: You mentioned during the Nona cover reveal that you wrote a 30k “divergence” for Gideon and Harrow while drafting Nona—is this an AU, and will we ever get to see it? TM: Ha! I loved writing that AU—it was ace! Problem is that it is entirely its own story and is probably more like 50k if I bothered to write out the end. (I wrote to a specific part.) I wouldn’t want it out there before Alecto, is the thing. I’d just whack it up on AO3 except I think that would be, as the kids call it, cringe. Like a grandparent who arrives at your stripper party with their own weird, coughing stripper. I’m sorry because it has characters I really like who don’t make it into the Locked Tomb at all—Ram and Capris Asht, Colum Asht’s awful brothers; Modesty Even and Jessejon Threen; and Valentine the Ninth, whom the whole thing is named for. Then again, so much of it is epistolary from Gideon Nav’s POV you are better off not getting it because she is an appalling letter writer.

—from https://reactormag.com/tamsyn-muir-on-lyctorhood-as-genderfuckery-and-greasy-bible-study-in-nona-the-ninth/

So, just for fun:

Any chance this could go along with the collected short stories (which are supposed to get published in their own volume eventually) if we the fans clamor for it after Alecto?

What the hell do you think this AU is about? Modesty Even sounds like an Agony Aunt-type of name to me. What if it's a story written entirely as an advice column, including Gideon's submissions? “so much of it is epistolary from Gideon Nav’s POV”—is GIDEON Valentine the Ninth, conducting her own advice column?

What kind of arythmonym would Even be? It's not tied to the usual number etymologies, so it might be a pen name. It could also be a BoE name, something like Modesty Even In Its Expression (Balzac quote, first result from a Google search so don't take me too seriously).

I want your most deranged opinions, y'all.

[blushingreid]

Temporary Parents

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

A/N: hi bbs, it’s been so so long & I’m sorry :( Here’s a longer fic that’s been in the drafts for YEARS NOW LMAOOOOO (disclaimer: this was written before my like 3 yr hiatus, no proof read, just straight posted for y'alls enjoyment) Giving some type of dad vibes I think might've been a request, but enjoy & slide me some feedback ! <3

Gun drawn, Spencer cautiously entered the house and into the child’s bedroom. Y/n followed closely behind, her gun out, ready for any outcome. Hearing a shuffle coming from the closet, y/n grasped Spencer’s bicep to get his attention before silently signaling to the closet. Spencer slowly approached the closet and whipped the door open.

“FBI! Put your hands up!”

Regret instantly hit Spencer as he holstered his gun when he saw a crying child crawl out of the closet. It was Jayden, Jordan Richard’s five-year-old son. 

Y/n holstered her gun and approached him, arms outstretched. “Hey there, you don’t have to be scared anymore, we’re the good guys,” she quietly explained as she motioned for Jayden to come closer to her.

He hesitated and looked between y/n and Spencer before running into y/n’s arms. After they left the house, Y/n brought him to the ambulance in the driveway to get checked out, while the team talked about the next steps.

They had been called to a small town in Virginia to investigate a series of families murdered with the same m.o. The team had gone to arrest the unsub, Jordan Richard, well the person they originally thought was the unsub. What they didn’t expect was for the alleged unsub and his family to have been the next victims. This meant the real unsub was still out there and the team was back to square one.

The only miracle was that the unsub had gotten sloppy and overconfident that he had just assumed that “missing” Jayden must’ve been sleeping over someone else’s house. Now this child would be the unsub’s demise.

Y/n was about to go join the team when Jayden grabbed her hand, silently pleading for her not to leave them. She gave him a small smile and sat down next to him in the ambulance.

“He’s lucky. There are no signs of any physical abuse,” the EMT said while placing a small band-aid on Jayden’s finger.

“Y/l/n, we need to take Jayden to headquarters and see if he can remember anything that can help us,” Hotch said before getting into one of the SUVs.

Y/n explained to Jayden the plan to head back to headquarters for the day. He didn’t seem to entirely understand the plan, except that he would get to spend the day with y/n, so he nodded and followed her into the SUV.

When they finally arrived at the bullpen, y/n led Jayden into one of the lounges. JJ came in to drop off some drawing supplies and snacks to help him feel more comfortable. The two of them spent the rest of the day attempting to get Jayden to open up about anything he might remember from last night. To everyone’s disappointment, Jayden was still too traumatized and only responded with nods and shakes of his head. Penelope had tried to find out if Jayden has any other family near, but she couldn’t find any. The social worker permitted Jayden to stay with y/n and Spencer, given that he’s a key witness and potentially still in danger. Actually, he wouldn’t let go of y/n’s leg when the social worker tried to take him for the night, so the social worker permitted him to stay with them until the case was solved. 

Once the three of them arrived at Spencer and y/n’s shared apartment, Spencer quickly went to childproof the guest bedroom. After tucking him in, y/n slid into bed next to Spencer, his arms instantly wrapping around her. 

“You know you always wanted kids,... so here you go,” y/n joked.

“I guess you could say this is our trial period for parenting,” Spencer laughed and placed a kiss goodnight to y/n’s forehead.

The multiple late nights and early mornings for this case, had tired them out so much that soon they were bother knocked out for the night. So knocked out, that neither felt Jayden crawl into bed with them. 

The next morning, y/n rolled over in bed to find that it was empty. She didn’t plan to leave her comfortable bed, until she heard Spencer scream. Running out of bed, she stopped once she saw Spencer covered in some type of food, Jayden no where to be seen. 

“Spence what happened to you?” Y/n laughed, walking into the kitchen.

“JAYDEN THREW HIS YOGURT AT ME!”

“What’d you do to get him to do that?” She teased, looking around the apartment for Jayden. Y/n eventually found him watching tv in the guest room.

“Absolutely nothing. All I did was join him at the table and the next thing I knew he launched his yogurt at me. This is my favorite sweater too,” Spencer pouted, trying to wipe off the yogurt.

“It could be because the first time you met, you had a gun pointed at him. He could still feel threatened by you,” y/n sighed before grabbing Spencer a new shirt.

“By the end of this case, I swear to you, Jayden and I are gonna be best friends,” Spencer promised. 

Y/n didn’t doubt it one bit. She knew Spencer would be the best dad in the world. 

The next two days had gone quick, Spencer and y/n stayed with Jayden to keep him safe and were there once he was comfortable enough to give them more information about that night. 

Y/n had left Spencer and Jayden alone in the apartment, while her and Emily checked out some leads. She hoped, the two of them wouldn’t tear apart the apartment by the time she got back. They’d seemed to be getting along together the past two days.

After checking out the leads, y/n headed back to her apartment to check on Spencer and Jayden before heading back to headquarters. She mentally braced herself for whatever she would be walking into as she unlocked the apartment door. To her surprise, she heard Jayden and Spencer laughing together. As she entered the apartment, she saw Spencer and Jayden running and ducking behind furniture with nerf guns. She giggled at the scene in front of her.

Suddenly, she was hit in the forehead by a foam dart. Y/n looked in the direction the dart came from to see a guilty Spencer emerge from behind the kitchen counter.

“Sorry love, I thought you were Jayden,” Spencer said as he jogged to the door to greet her with a kiss.

“I see you two have been keeping yourselves entertained,” y/n laughed as she went to go sit on the couch. Spencer followed, wrapping an arm around her. 

Jayden finally emerged from their bedroom, nerf gun in one hand and a piece of paper in his other. He ran and jumped onto the couch in between Spencer and y/n. Y/n examined the paper Jayden had handed her. It seemed to be a drawing of a logo.

“This looks familiar Spence, like a company logo,” y/n said as she handed the drawing to him.

“T-th-the scary m-man,” Jayden said, pointing to a mean stick figure he’d drawn on the bottom corner of the paper.

“Is this how you know the man who hurt your family?” Y/n softly asked. Jayden quickly nodded his head before jumping off the couch and running into the other room.

“This might just be what we need to finally catch the unsub,” y/n exclaimed as she gave Spencer a quick kiss and ran out the door to tell the team.

Spencer wanted to be there with y/n and the rest of the team when they went to go arrest the unsub, but he knew he had to stay and keep Jayden safe. A small part of him was actually happy he stayed, that way he’d be able to spend more time with Jayden before a foster family takes him.

“Ok kid, how do we convince my wife to start trying for our own kid?”