#will update as soon as I am for sure safe

[half-dead-ham]

Tim Drake's I.E.F chap 4

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason here, with some bonding on multiple levels!

It took Danny's core a total of four days for it to be satisfied with Tim's safety in the cave while recovering. Four days plus the three since before Tim got shot since Danny's checked in with his friends back in Amity.

He's honestly surprised the Boomerang hasn't beaned him yet.

Only after making sure he had a few methods of keeping Tim safe remotely and telling his new friend—as much as he was able to without talking—that he'd be gone for a bit did he fly back over to his old squat house and retrieve the rest of his things, including his phone. The new guys there didn't seem like the friendly sort, but when you can go invisible that's not really a problem.

His go bag was still in the same place he'd left it four days ago—inside the first floor bathroom's wall—along with the change of clothes and cash Sam had shoved in it on his way out of Amity. He took it easily and shot up through the top of the building, missing the guy sleeping in the bath tub's panicked start.

Hesitantly he turned his phone back on. The moment it was done the startup sequence it began vibrating nonstop, and Danny had to wonder how much of that was his friends worrying versus actual updates about his hometown. Scrolling through and, yep, that's a lot of 'answer or I'll kick your ass' texts from Sam, probably one every other hour since the second day, judging by the time stamps. The texts he was getting from Tuck were much the same, albeit much less violent and graphic about what bodily part's would be stuck where if he didn't answer soon.

Picking a direction and shooting off Danny soon found himself sailing high above the Atlantic ocean. He made sure Gotham bay was only a spec in the distance (to fool any attempts at trying to track his phone call, just to be safe) then hit the group dial on their chat.

Two connection tones sounded on top of each-other, and the first words Danny heard from his friends in a week were "give me one good reason why we aren't already in Gotham looking for your half-dead ass after you literally ghosted us for a week."

"Hi to you too, Sam," he chuckled in response. It was nice actually getting to talk to someone, with actual words.

"Ohhh no. You don't get to pull the 'Hi to you too, Sam' bit after missing two check-ins in a row with no explanation."

"Danny…" Tucker's voice came in with a lot less fire in it, but with twice the worry of Sam's. "Why is your phone pinging two hundred miles off the coast of New Jersey? Did you get into something again?"

Ah, yes. His friends knew him so well.

"To answer both of your questions, my phone is pinging two hundred miles from New Jersey because I am two hundred miles from New Jersey, give or take with the altitude. I didn't mean to ghost you, really, something came up and I forgot the phone at my old place."

"Old place? Danny, what came up that you had to move safehouses? What do you mean something came up?" Oh yeah, Sam wasn't happy with him. If he weren't safely riding in international waters he was sure Sam would find him and make sure no one found his corpse. If he could leave a corpse that is.

"Yeahhh… about that?" He let out a nervous chuckle, free hand travelling to the back of his neck. "I kinda made a friend?"

"What?!" Sam's shriek had Danny's ears swivelling down and his toes curling at the intensity.

"Danny, I say this with all the love in my cold, dead heart, but what the actual fuck would make you think making a friend while on the run was a good idea?!"

"Danny dude," Tucker spoke up, "I thought you've had some bad ideas before, but this. Man, at least tell me you didn't give out your real name?"

"Heh heh eh… funny story? They kinda gave me a name."

The statement was met with only the sound of the rolling waves underneath him. As the quiet grew he started to get fidgety, maybe not starting from the beginning wasn't the best idea…

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a woosh of air passed Sam's mic as a single word came over the call. "Explain" left no room for jokes, rambling it is then.

"So I may or may not have been hanging around this guy at night while doing some flying to clear my head. The guy seemed nice enough and pretty popular so I kinda thought 'whats the harm?' and started haunting the guy when he went out 'cause I was bored and we kinda grew into this on official friendship between us? Cause apparently he knew I was there even though I was invisible like all of the time, so cause I knew he knew I was there I started helping him with the things he was doing? Like little not obvious things but apparently he noticed him anyway cause his family is like a bunch of detectives and so he notices things. Anyway like four days ago he was shot and I've kinda been with him since cause my core thinks he's someone I need to protect even though I didn't actually know the guys name till after he got shot and-"

"Danny, dude, this is like, waaaay too much info all at once. You got a spark notes version of this story?" Tucker cut in. Having a friend that both had a tendency to ramble and no need to breathe could give him a headache sometimes.

Before Danny could start back up, Sam cut him off "... Danny, what's the name of the guy you were stalking?" It was phrases like a question, but with who it was coming from, it was more of a demand.

Panicking he tries to evade the question, "stalking? I wasn't stalking him, I was… hanging out? Without him knowing it was a hangout?"

"Danny…"

"I mean really, stalking is such a strong word. I'd prefer the term non-consensual bodyguarding."

"Danny."

"It's not like I was even doing anything usually, just hanging around the same places he was. At night… alone."

"Danny, the name!" Sam snapped. He really shouldn't tell his friends, because if they know his new friend is Tim Drake-Wayne then they'll want to know why he was hanging around him at night, and why he got shot. Those were not questions he wanted to answer at the moment. He knew what they'd say if he did.

"I can't tell you," he blurted out.

"...What?" Oh, oh yeah, that was a bad play, Fenton.

"I can't tell you his name, you'll get mad at me," he knew she sounded like a child, but his friends were always the more responsible parent types anyway.

"Danny dude, what in Clockworks name do you think will make her any more angry than she already is?" While Tucker brought up a good point, he already knew the answer to that question.

"...Timothy Drake-Wayne?" Was all he could say to reply.

Once again all that joined him was the sound of the rolling waves. Were they shocked? Angry? (Of course they were angry, angrier?) It was really hard to gauge his friends' responses with just their voices.

Finally Sam whispered "what do you mean, Timothy Drake-Wayne?" That voice. He knew that voice, if he were any closer to her when she spoke in that voice he'd be halfway through the zone already trying to hide.

The heat of a thousand suns couldn't compare to the fury in that one question.

"I mean, I started haunting Tim Drake-Wayne accidentally? And then sorta got attached?"

Sam was trying to re-kill him through the phone somehow, he knew it. Tucker graciously offered an out with "Why was the co-CEO of Wayne Enterprise going out enough in Gotham to require a ghostly bodyguard Danny? The dude is, like, super kidnappable right?"

Ancients damn Tucker and his logical questioning making Danny want to drop his phone in the ocean and fly back as fast as possible. Unfortunately, now that they knew who he was haunting, they could just show up at Wayne manor to find him. That would definitely out him to Tim's family, he hadn't even done any pranking with the guy yet.

Audibly sighing into the mic, Danny's hand travels back to his neck as he speaks. "You guys gotta understand that what I'm going to tell you next is a secret, okay? Like, my level of secret secret. Tucker, this line is encrypted right?"

At Tucker's confused sound of approval he continues.

"So originally I didn't actually know I was following Tim Drake. I was following Red Robin. I only know who he is now because I followed him to the Batcave after he got shot."

He really should have something to do for when he accidentally stuns his friends into silence. Fidgeting can get boring pretty fast after a bit.

After another eternity a groan came from Sam's end. Danny hoped that was a good sign.

"So you were stalking a vigilante and accidentally put him in your 'I'd take a bullet for you' list? Danny, that's all kinds of stupid. He's a vigilante, it's his job to fight and protect, not be protected! And what were you saying about your core bonding to him?" Well at least she sounded more 'tired of this shit' and less 'grind him to dust' now, Danny for the win?

"You know how I get all ghostly protective about you guys getting in danger? It's kinda like that with him now. It feels so weird having my instincts labelling someone outside of Amity as one of my humans. Kinda the whole 'I've only known him for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him I'd kill everyone here and then myself' meme. It's creepy, and not the good kind."

"I hate that you just described your ghostly instinct to protect people with a meme, dude." Tucker half groaned, half chuckled. At least he appreciated the humour in it.

"At least he's acknowledging he's getting into stalker protective territory, before he just thought he was being a helicopter friend." Sam added in. He hated when she brought up his early phases, when he still didn't know how being a ghost worked (he still doesn't, really.)

"So how are we going to play this, dude? Want me to hack into the Batcave, see what they got on you?" He could hear the gears in Tucker's head spinning, trying to find the best code bits to use on the bats firewalls. Danny chuckled at the image of Tuck going against  a family of trained hackers and coming out on top.

"Nah, Tuck. I-" Something cut him off, there was a buzzing in his core. The kind he knew was meant as a silent alarm. Tim was in trouble and he had to get back now.

"Guys, I gotta go. I'll check back with you later." He hung up, hearing his friends' voices of protest as he did so. Stowing his phone, he shot back to Gotham at mach speed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took Tim a while to get used to the fact that he was no longer ignoring the cold spot staying in his room. They were surprisingly easy to talk to, once they got past the fact that Arct could really only do yes or no questions with the statue as help. Trying to figure out that his friend had to go do something for a while took some time, especially with just the yes or no probing.

Before he left, Tim asked Arct to get him something to read, they came back with his laptop and the stack of files and books from his nightstand (how did it know which bedroom was his?) With one last Bob of the galaxy, his friend set it down and floated out, bringing with him the now comforting cold.

He'd finished up all the work emails saying he'd been in an accident and was just starting on the novel he's been meaning to read when he heard the revv of an engine coming to rest in the cave. As it was currently the day all of the usual bats were either at work or school, or resting up for tonight's patrol. Only a few members came in during the day, and he was about to try and figure it out when the question was answered for him.

Jason didn't even knock, instead kicking the door open with his boot and striding in like he lived here. Tim could only give a mildly annoyed glare as he watched his second eldest brother plop himself down in the chair next to him and kick his feet up on the side of the bed.

He sighed, realizing the book would have to wait again. Closing it and returning it to the stack on the side table, he looked to Jason, now with Red Hood helmet and domino mask off. He opened his mouth to speak but Jason beat him to it with. "Why d'you smell like death? I thought you survived the whole bullet to the chest thing."

Okay, that's not what Tim was expecting to come out of his brother's mouth. Not even a hello? Hell, how'd he even know he was in the medbay? He voiced that thought and he got a "group chat," in reply. Of course it was the family group chat.

Tim sighed and readjusted his position in bed. Talking with Jason was always tiring with how little respect he got from the former Robin. He knew Jason felt he replaced him when he died, but the fact he brought it up over and over again really didn't make him feel any better about it.

"Yo, Replacement, you gonna answer me? Why the hell do you smell like you took a shower in pit water? How'd you even find a pit not guarded by the League to begin with?"

"Do you really think I'd still be in a bed in medbay if I went anywhere near a Lazarus pit?" Tim really didn't know why his brother thought he had anything to do with the thing that brought him back before, he didn't really care either.

He watched as Jason scrunched up his nose and looked around the room.

"This place reeks of death more than the pit caves Ra's used. If you didn't come back, then why does it smell so bad?"

Jason was more connected to the pit than his other family members who'd been around them, Tim knew he wasn't lying about the smell. A trickle of cold creeped down his back as he started getting an idea as to what caused it. He didn't want to be right.

His older brother had redoubled his investigation, trying to pinpoint the source of the stench. Eyes finally landing on his bedside table, he swept the stack of papers onto the floor and grabbed the previously obscured ice statue. Tim's creeping feeling got stronger as his brother slowly turned to face him, green seeping into his normally blue eyes.

"Where the hell did you get this?" Jason asked with forced calm, gripping the statuette so hard Tim thought it might crumble.

"A friend gave it to me," he replied smoothly. It was the truth, his friend made him the statue of suspiciously never melting ice and he didn't question it.

The first twisting the collar of his hospital gown told him he maybe should have, as he was yanked forwards, pulling at the wires and tubes attached to him. Nearly off the bed now, Jason asked with Lazarus green in his eyes. "Who. Gave. You. This?"

Tim struggled to keep the groan of pain from escaping him. The drainage tube in his chest was being pulled in a very not fun way, and he would really like to not have Alfred redo his work in patching him up.

"I told you, I got it from a friend," he ground out.

Jason was about to say something else when an invisible force knocked him to the side and off his feet. The room dropped twenty degrees and the lights started flickering as Tim could feel hands on him. Cold and too long to be human, they kept him from falling forward off the bed and face planting on the floor. Gingerly laying him back down, his friend made sure nothing was taken out or reopened before raising in the air. Tim could feel the anger radiating off his friend in frigid waves, falling heavy like mist off dry ice and charged with electricity.

Jason could feel it too, as he looked exactly where Tim knew Arcturus was floating and pointed, hand cupping his cheek and still holding the statue.

"How the hell did you get a pit demon as a pet?!" He exclaimed.

Confused, Tim asked "what the hell is a pit demon?"

He watched as his brother looked from him to Arcturus and back, face cemented in shock and disbelief.

"You mean you don't know what the hell this is?!" Jason waves his arms in his friend's general direction. "Why are you not freaked out by this then?!"

The cold anger had died down some, replaced by static white noise and breaking ice. Shrugging as best he could, Tim replied, "he's not the weirdest thing I've seen, and he's pretty friendly too."

Jason was thrown. Could Tim not see the black cloud of twisted human floating in front of him? With eyes greener than Lazarus water on an expanse of black, hair dancing and jerking like it was underwater and getting electrocuted at the same time. The thing was only vaguely human shaped, a black cloud in the form of a body with no legs, and arms clad in white gloves ending in claws long and sharp enough to be daggers. He didn't want to look at it for long, its beady eyes stared right into his soul and face contorted into a snarl that held too many teeth for anything natural.

Tim still looked confused, why was he confused? Jason was about to get re-killed by something the pit water inside him curled up and cowered in fear of. He doubted he stood a snowball's chance in hell against this thing and his brother was sitting there like nothing was wrong. 

Okay, Danny clearly missed a memo before flying into his friend's rescue, so he's maybe a little confused on some things. Like firstly, Tim wasn't actually acting like he was in danger from this guy, despite him nearly pulling out all the equipment helping Tim to heal. His friend looked confused and mildly annoyed at most by New Guy's presence. Secondly, New Guy stank. Rotting ectoplasm stench seeped from him like he got dipped in a zone waste pool. Other than the green tinged in his eyes, though, he seemed otherwise okay, which was just another point of confusion. Lastly, his thoughts echoed what Tim had asked before. What the hell was a pit demon?

"I'm not a pet," he grumbled offhandedly. He knew neither human could understand him—ghost speak couldn't be made by human mouths or processed entirely by human brains. Regular people just heard crackling static and creaking glaciers with emotional intent when he spoke it. He turned to check on Tim more thoroughly when he heard an unexpected reply.

"Then why the hell is a pit demon staying around my little brother," Jason breathed. Replying to the things grumbling wasn't the smartest thing to do, but the fact that something he thought wasn't even sentient had said something he could understand had basically turned his brain off.

That couldn't have been directed at Danny, could it? Maybe not going human for a while had him hearing things. Checking Tim over again helped his form settle at least, but now his brain spun with the possibilities. Also, this dude was Tim's big brother? Pretty dick move of him to hurt Tim for their first meeting then. Not even Dick did that.

Tim was still looking between Jason and Arct. Did his brother just reply to the static hissing he'd heard before? Was that actually his friend trying to communicate? But then how could Arct understand English? And lastly.

"You didn't answer my question Jason—what's a pit demon, and why do you think there's one in this room?" If Jason knew what his friend was then maybe they could figure out a way to communicate better.

Okay, so apparently Tim didn't know what the affront to nature tucking him in was, that was fine. Jason had to swallow down the bile working its way up his throat. At least the thing's form had settled enough he could look at it now. It was almost- Jason couldn't say human looking. With purple tinged skin, pointed ears and fingers, and eyes that shone brighter and greener than any pit he'd come across, no way could this thing actually pass for human. Didn't stop it from trying though, it had formed actual legs while Jason had been staring, making the thing about as tall as he was. The clothes it was wearing, a baggy black hoodie and cargo pants almost made the thing resemble a teenager, one who prefers comfort and function over style. Its gaze swept over him and he'd realized he hadn't said anything for too long.

Keeping his eyes on the demon next to his brother, Jason stood up on shaking legs.

"A pit demon is just what it sounds like, a thing that couldn't possibly be human that crawled out of a Lazarus pit. Surprised demon brat hasn't already tried to chase it off, but I remember something about only those 'chosen by the pit' being able to see it or some shit. Don't remember much else other than that they're extremely violent and attack anything with a heartbeat."

Well, Tim was at a loss. His friend was supposedly from a race that came out of the Lazarus pits to attack people, yet so far his friend has only hurt those who hurt Tim first. He turned his gaze to where he felt his friend standing, remembering what he could of when they'd saved him. Sure, Arcturus wasn't human, but he wasn't that monstrous, right?

"That's bullshit," came out of Danny before he could stop himself. So that's what people thought of the ghosts that used the waste pools? He knew they could be used to travel between the zone and the human world, but they stank of rotting ectoplasm too much for him to ever want to try it. Sighing he used a bit of intangibility to swipe the statuette out of Tim's brothers—Jason's?—hand. Only revelling slightly from the full body jerk he caused in doing so.

Okay, so, Jason wasn't hearing things before. He clearly heard the thing speak. It was also aware of how terrifying it was if the smile at making Jason recoil was anything to go off.

"You do realize this thing is horrifying to look at, right?" He told his brother, not taking his eyes off the thing that could potentially eviscerate the whole house.

Tim's eyes grew wide. "You can see them?!" He exclaimed in surprise.

Danny's words echoed Tim's almost perfectly. "You can see me?" The static in his voice popping like a live wire as he sat the statuette down on the nightstand.

"Yeah I can see you, ya freak of nature. How'd you end up in Gotham? There aren't any pits for you to crawl out from near here." Was Jason possibly inciting the anger of the thing that could rip him to shreds? Yes, yes he was, but he had to know whether or not a new pit had formed close to Gotham in case the League came a-calling.

"Ancients, you can understand me?!" Danny had to keep his eyes from going beyond human wide. He was talking to someone that wasn't dead. In ghost speak! Was it a side effect of the waste water in his system, maybe? How it got there was a question he didn't need to know right now as he just looked at the guy that had answered him.

"Yeah?" Jason drawled wearily, that was not the reaction he expected. "You sound like you're talking over a Tesla coil, but you're speaking English, right?" He looked to his brother for aid but only saw the calculated look all bats used when they didn't want to openly appear confused.

Looking back, the thing had risen from its seat, literally. It was floating in a sitting position about two feet above the chair.

"I've never heard of a human that could understand ghost speak before!" The thing said excitedly.

"And I've never known a pit demon that could speak at all before," he replied without thinking.

The thing cocked its head. "Well most ghosts that use the waste pools just use them to get into the human world to cause chaos, not to talk. Any ghost with any ounce of self respect would either find a natural portal or make one." 

"Ghost? Portals? Are you saying pit demons are dead people? And that they come to earth through more than just the Lazarus pits?" That was a terrifying thought. More monsters coming to earth from ways other than the pits? Who knows what destruction they could—have already—cause. "There any way to stop them?"

"No? Natural portals are random, and ghosts that can make portals themselves prefer to stay in the zone where it's safe? Why should I even be telling you this, you don't look like you have the weapons to fight a ghost. Who are you anyway?"

Jason looked at his brother (who looked entirely lost at this point) back to the pit demon—ghost?—that was watching him with suspicion, feet back in the ground and firmly seated in the chair.

"Hey, Replacement," he chuckled but cut it to a cough at the things scowl. "You haven't told your buddy about me yet? I'm hurt, really."

Finally being included into the conversation, and it was to introduce the asshole of a brother to his possibly terrifying friend? Tim sighed and waved his good hand at the end of the bed.

"Arcturus, this is my older adoptive brother, Jason Todd, aka Red Hood. Jason, this-" he motioned to the chair "-is my new friend, I call him Arcturus because he can't say his real name."

Jason snorts and finally peels his eyes off the dead thing in front of him. "Really Timmy? You see what is essentially an eldritch terror and decide to name it after a star?" At his little brother's blush he couldn't help but laugh. "How cheesy can you get?" He said between breaths.

Meanwhile, Danny was having a crisis. He had punched Red Hood. In the face. He had punched his favourite Gotham vigilante in the face. Ancients end him right now. He wanted to scream.

"I just my favourite vigilante in the face for my friend," he groaned instead, putting his face in his hands.

Jason had to laugh harder at that. He couldn't help it, you couldn't make this shit up if you tried.

"Hey Timmy," he wheezed. "Your friend here just said I'm his favourite vigilante. Take that!"

Without looking up Danny took one hand off his face to point at Red Hood (ancients, Red Hood, his helmet was on the floor beside him how did he not notice?!)

"Second favourite," was all he could muster while reconsidering his half-life choices.

At the confused squawk of "hey!" He smirked and added, "Red Robin isn't an ass, so he got you beat there." 

By the way Jason was pouting and the room finally went back to its regular temperature, Tim could at least tell they weren't at each other's throats anymore.

"What did he say?" Tim asked.

"I've been demoted to second favourite. Dead guy can't handle sass." The reply had him chuckling, definitely not hostile anymore, that was good.

"Sounds like another dead guy I know," he commented. The look Jason gave him could have been angry, if the indignant undertone didn't make it so funny.

Huh, so the whole 'Jason Todd died but got better' thing wasn't just a rumour then. Interesting.

"So you're such a sore loser you came back just to spite death? Talk about petty," he joked at the vigilante as he lifted his face out of his hand. Another thing to have in common with one of his favourite heroes (anti-heroes?), they just couldn't stay dead.

Jason clicked his tongue at the ghost, "whatever you Kirby villain reject." The bark of laughter from his right and the stuttering in front of him had him feeling a lot better about his brother's safety. Yeah, he might not be able to beat the thing in front of him, but maybe he wouldn't have to. The fact that he could think clearly after not feeling the pit move since Tim's friend appeared helped.

"Alright, as fun as this meet and greet was, I need to head back to the Narrows." His brother's laughter died down as he slapped his knees and stood up. Still keeping a safe distance from Tim's dead friend he grabbed his discarded helmet and put his domino mask back on.

"Oh yeah," he heard Tim call out from behind him, "why'd you even come in the first place? I know you didn't do it just to annoy me."

Jason was glad he'd reasserted his domino mask as he half turned to view his brother. He looked him up and down one last time with a conflicted expression before turning back to walk out.

"A guy can be worried for his brother sometimes, give me some credit," he confided as he left for his bike.

The silence followed the rumble of Jason's bike out of the cave. That was not what Tim was expecting in this conversation at all. Jason came to check on him? He was worried about Tim? Shock couldn't begin to describe the mix of emotions he was feeling with that revelation.

A hum to his right brought him out of his musings as he turned his head to look at the space where his friend should be.

"So, that was my brother Jason." He huffed. "He's kind of an asshole, but he's family. The pit messed with his head a bit so he has some anger issues. Also I took over as Robin after he died, and since he's come back has pretty much thought of me as a replacement. I'm pretty sure he only uses the nickname as a joke now, though." That sounded better in his head. "He's seriously not that bad a guy though," he added on more as an afterthought.

He watched as the statuette lifted off its base as his friend showed he acknowledged the statement. A burst of cold then hit Tim square in the face. That was his friend's sign he was being self deprecating and, yeah, he kind of deserved that.

Comfortable silence enveloped the two as they both individually processed the encounter. The statue floating about half a foot off the seat of the chair in what Tim supposed was Arcturus' lap. He realized Jason had basically confirmed a few things about Arcturus through talking to him in the conversation Tim could only understand half of.

"Hey," the model twitched, "you can speak English, right? Not just that static noise that lets me tell what you're feeling?"

One dip of the statue means that yes, his friend could speak to him if he wanted to.

"Is there some reason you don't then? A reason you don't speak directly to me?" He watched as the statue stayed floating in its position for a moment, then almost reluctantly dipped a 'yes.'

"Why then?" The static that filled the room was charged with paranoia and distrust. It hurt, just a bit, but it didn't all feel directed at him.

"Do you not trust me then?" A rapid jerk to the side must count for a big 'no,' which made him feel a little better.

"…Maybe you don't trust my family?" Tim had found that if the statue didn't move, then he was halfway to the answer. Mulling the statement over a moment it dawned on him, it was stupid of him not to have realized sooner.

"You don't trust the bats, do you?" The statue dipping again meant 'yes' and tilted almost vertically. Was his friend showing he was ashamed in doing that? It didn't sting Tim quite as much as his friend not trusting him and he knew Bruce alone made a lot of reasons for any supernatural creature to stay out of Gotham. Tim turned his head to look at his lap as the gears spun in his head.

"Why did you stick around me then? I'm Red Robin, a part of Gotham's protectors, weren't I someone you should have avoided?" Maybe Tim didn't want to know the answer, but he had to ask for the safety of his family. If his friend got close to him just to get to his family, well, maybe Tim wasn't as smart as he thought he was.

The crunching sound of boots under snow mixed with a tuning radio had Tim feeling things he hadn't in a while. Curiosity and childish glee filled his chest with a warmth that was almost bringing tears to his eyes. Wiping away the damp he turned back to his friend with a smile.

"You can trust me, you know. Maybe you don't right now, and that's okay. But I promise I'll get you to trust me eventually." His voice was dripping with conviction that for once wasn't forced.

And if the hum he got back wasn't charged with emotion and only gave off a little reverb? Well, he could keep that to himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y'know, when I originally rote this chapter I thought 'Kirby villain reject' was suck a great insult for something that looked like Danny. It just fits him, given his eldretch-ness in this fic.

Also, Kidnappable should absolutely be a real word. Calling it now.

Also also! This chapter has fanart! You can find it here!

[Ao3][Prev][Next]

[choices-binglebonkus]

Leaving my house to stay someplace else for the evening because it’s Election Day, my parents and I do not agree politically, and I am unfortunately fearful for my safety due to previous incidents with them.

[saintjosie]

DONT WASH VEGETABLES WITH SOAP JESSICA

jess and i are raising money to help rajaa and her family get out of gaza! tell me in the tags, what is your favorite vegetable that you are NOT washing with soap?

UPDATE: WE HAVE REACHED OUR GOAL FOR RAJA!!!

im so incredibly proud of the queer community’s ability to step up and organize. i have had so much hope and faith renewed in the power of community and solidarity through this.

i am exhausted but also i am not ready to be done.

jess and i are now targeting a new goal. raja’s sister saja has already crossed the border into egypt but almost the entirety of the rest of raja and saja’s family are still trapped in gaza. there are 9 adults and 12 children including a pregnant mother and a elder diabetic man who need medical attention as soon as possible. the goal they are hoping to reach is €112,000 for everyone to cross safely.

this is so much larger than our previous goal and we are already exhausted and terrified that nothing we do will be enough. but i have renewed faith in my community and i sure as hell am going to keep trying.

if you are able to donate or boost, every little bit helps.

[strwberri-milk]

Hi, good morning/ afternoon/ evening. I've probably read all of your work on LnD, and I love them all. If it's not too much, can I request like the boys getting a call/update from MC after a disastrous wanderer attack on the city after not being able to contact them?? If possible, established relationship😅 ... thank you for your time!

im glad you like all my writing for them!! im so aefjaweofaw please give me the next main story update - also theres lots of references/imagery of death so if youre not chill w that i will see you tomorrow [salute] - theres also some very very slight references to their myths!! it feels a little ooc to me but thats bc. i think theyd be a little ooc when faced w a tragedy like this!! i hope you like it anyway <3

Zayne holds his breath every time a new patient is admitted. The hospital is busy with all of the patients that are coming in with the disaster, a mixture of those hanging on and people running up to him because he's the closest doctor in the vicinity to confirm death.

He volunteered himself to do triage because he was convinced that he'd be able to stop you from dying, that if you came in through those doors he'd be able to separate his love for you from the mind that studied all those nights but that's impossible - he only got here because of you.

His mind runs circles around himself, almost separated from his body as he tries to figure out why you weren't there. Hopefully it's because you're fine - you don't need medical attention or the medics on site were enough for you. However, he knows there's an equal chance that it's just because a doctor onsite was able to confirm your death and now you were in some bag, stored away with the others waiting for him to come identify you.

When he finally gets a moment to himself he obsessively checks his phone, praying to something that might take enough pity on him to listen at the very least that you'll call him. Minutes turn to hours as he's called back to work. Silence is a commodity now as he's stuck in the theatre, only able to go home after he's exceeded the legal amount of hours he's allowed to work in one night.

The long turned cold water hits his muscles as his mind wanders in the quiet of his home. You still haven't called - nobody's called. He understands that surely, all of you are busy but he's been there when the calls have had to be made. To hear the sobs on the other side of the phone as a squad captain confirms the death of another hunter as they softly ask if they'd like to see the body. He's also seen the calls when the bodies are far too mangled, a sight that no loved one should have to bear. He's waiting for it, almost falling in his haste to grab his phone once it finally rings.

Your number pops up, the letters of your name taunting him as he tries to answer it. He's about ready to throw his phone on the ground from the water on his hand refusing to make picking up the call an easy feat.

"Hello?" Zayne asks, an uncharacteristic shake in his voice.

"Zayne! I'm okay!" you say, voice sounding a little weak but definitely better than he could have ever anticipated.

"Zayne? Honey? Hello?" you ask when you're met with only silence, now beginning to grow anxious yourself. You knew he must have been busy - you were too - and you thought he was safe. He should have been, you'd heard no reports of the hospital being attacked.

"You're alive," he chokes out, falling to his knees.

"Of course I am! Things have just been chaotic so I haven't had enough time to call you until now," you explain, continuing to talk to him.

You hear rustling on the other side of the phone, trying to get his attention again before he cuts you off.

"Where are you right now? Home?"

"Oh - yeah I'm on leave now. Most of us who were in active duty are to let his recuperate. How come?"

"I'll be there soon."

He hangs up immediately, leaving you a little stunned. You decide to clean up a little, having nothing else to do really until he comes over. Zayne never acts this impulsively so you assume that the day with no contact really wore on him.

Once he arrives you open the door for him, planning to apologise for the lack of contact when he almost throws himself at you. You hold him back just as tightly, a little shaken yourself as you close the door after him. You realise that for whatever reason he's soaking, unsure if you should confront that but you decide to ignore it.

He leads you right to your couch, too exhausted to even find your bedroom as he buries himself against your chest. It's not the normal way he lays with you - typically he likes to hold you - but you know not to bother him now. You can't deny you were worried about him too, knowing he probably put in a bunch of overtime at the hospital.

He holds onto you tightly, measuring out the beat of your heart. It's the only way he can remind himself that you're still alive, that the two of you have one more day together.

Xavier has never felt like he wanted to die more than in this moment. One minute you were running with him, trying to stop the Wanderer from attacking the group of civilians the next you're totally gone. Logically, he knows you're most likely fighting a Wanderer by yourself and you can handle it but somewhere he's convinced you'll die without him at your side. You've proved yourself more than capable but he worries about you all the time - he knows how to fight these things, he's been fighting them for far longer than you have - and if you died here he'd have no more reason for living.

He practically goes beserk, tearing into each and every creature with the hopes that one of them can take him to you. With each failure he starts to spiral, standing atop a pile of rubble as he watches the recovery teams start to spread into the city. It practically took an entire squadron to force him to go home, promising him that he'd be the firs t to hear once they found you.

You were diligently following Xavier when you noticed another Wanderer going after a child. You knew that he'd panic once he couldn't find you but you couldn't just abandon them. You tried to tell him you'd be splitting off but over all the screams and screeches he couldn't hear you and you couldn't waste any more time trying to get his attention.

You were able to defeat the Wanderer but not before sustaining an injury that made it too difficult for you to continue active duty, taking the child to a safe spot and staying with them until help arrived. You ended up passing out from the pain shortly thereafter, waking up a day later to Tara in your face heaving a sigh of relief as she called for a doctor to come check on you.

Your body was simply fatigued and after an extra day of monitoring and ensuring you were receiving everything you needed to make sure you wouldn't collapse again when you get home. You nod, knowing what procedure is at this point. You reach out for your phone once the doctor leaves, knowing that Xavier must be worried out of his mind.

You're right, of course. He's laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he waits for someone to call him. He saw the scale of disaster this attack was, knows that everything is absolutely awful and he's not the only one waiting for news but every minute that passes is another minute you could be trapped, praying that he's coming there to save you.

He decides to ignore the strict orders he's gotten, suiting up to go help the recovery efforts. He was going bad staying in bed all day, unable to get a wink of sleep as pictures of your suffering flash across his tortured mind. Working on pulling valuables and any remnants of life is depressing on a good day but right now it's downright torturous. He can't help but think that the next thing he pulls out is going to be your hand, severed far from your body.

When his phone rings everything disappears. He quickly picks up, steeling his expression to avoid making things worse should someone look over at him. He doesn't even notice who called him, just hoping that it was someone with news.

"Oh! You picked up fast. Are you just sitting at home then?" you ask casually, so casually he thinks it's almost cruel. How could you act so nonchalant about the fact that you held his life in your hands, that you are the only thing in this world he can bear to wake up for?

"No, I'm helping the recovery efforts despite orders. I...it was too quiet at home," he offers as an explanation and you hum. He can imagine you nodding, tapping your chin as you think to yourself.

"If you missed me you could have just said so," you tease, hoping that the ease in your voice will make him relax.

"Of course I did. Is that even a question? Are you able to take visitors?' You know what, doesn't matter. I'll just wait there until you are. I'll see you soon love."

He hangs up quickly and you know that he'll appear in the hospital within the next two seconds with that uncanny ability of his. You straighten yourself out a little, knowing that you were injured but not wanting to look like a total mess.

You can hear his footsteps running up to your door, slamming it open as he catches his breath. You've never seen him out of breath before - maybe he's much more tired than you initially thought.

"You made it," you laugh, making a slight sound from the impact of him practically jumping at you, holding you tightly as he buries his face into your neck.

"I was worried about you," he says softly, looking up at you. "I thought you'd been hurt, badly. And I wasn't there to protect you."

You sigh, helping him sit down into the chair at your bedside. You offer him your hand which he holds gratefully, never taking his eyes off of you.

"I know. I'm sorry. But look, I'm okay now, aren't I?"

He ignores the pain in his chest, trying not to imagine how heavy your hand would feel in his if you really had drawn your last breath. That weight is far too familiar to him, haunting his every thought in the hours that passed between then and now.

"You are. And I'm going to make sure you stay that way," he promises.

Rafayel didn't even know there was an attack until far after it. He knew you were working and that sometimes, you'd accidentally go MIA. You'd already texted him before your mission anyway and then he got drawn into another project of his and completely lost track of time. It's not until the next day that he finally sees his phone and the message from Thomas telling him not to come into the city for supplies for a day or so.

He immediately starts looking through articles, scouring pages that are constantly updating the death toll in search of your face. He curses himself for not paying attention earlier - every minute he wasted on some stupid was another minute you could have spent at Death's door, all because he allowed himself to forget that nothing matters if it's not you.

It's obsessive the way he looks through all of them, calling your phone non stop all the while. Every time he gets sent to voicemail he feels his breath get knocked out of his lungs, resorting to blowing up your phone with texts. When it's clear you aren't replying he grabs his keys to drive into Linkon despite Thomas' suggestion, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he heads to the hospital.

Even in all the chaos people can't help but stare a little as Rafayel makes his way to the counter, demanding someone tell him where you were. He's really trying not to be a brat, promising you that he'd be nicer to people but when it's your life on the line everything is up for debate. He goes through any and every possibility, figuring out what he can do to guarantee your survival.

Unfortunately for him, he gets escorted out. Jenna tries to calm him down, telling him that he'd be the first to know if they had any updates on you. Right now everything was just far too messy to know anything about anyone and there was a good chance that you were just being treated at a different hospital than usual due to the high causality count. He doesn't take no for an answer and manages to strong arm the name of the other hospitals you could have been sent to, starting up his car again right as his phone lights up with your name.

"What do you think you're doing not answering your phone?!" he yells, making you flinch.

Rafayel's never been mad at you, certainly not to this extent but you know that it's because he's anxious. He immediately catches himself too and you hear it, catching the sound of his hands against his steering wheel as he takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. Just - where are you?" he asks, sounding so exhausted that you feel like crying.

"I'm okay Rafayel," you say instead, adding the name of your hospital. He's immediately driving over as you talk to him, keeping your voice even.

"I was split up from the group is all, then triaged at a different hospital. I'm fine though - I managed to just sprain my wrist from overexertion so I'll have a sling for a bit-"

"You're staying with me then. I'm not having you stay alone with a broken wrist. Knowing you you'd do something dumb and make it worse," he scoffs, trying his best to drive safely to see you again. You don't bother to correct him, knowing that's the least of your worries.

You fall quiet, not sure how to respond. Rafayel has always been good at masking how he feels, rarely showing you what he's hiding behind his mask. Now he's an open book, making it clear that nothing will be okay until he sees you again.

"Okay," you agree, leaning further back into the pillows of your hospital bed. "They wanted me to be released into the care of someone if I could anyway. That's why I was calling you - that, and trying to return all your missed calls."

"Thank you," he says so quietly you barely hear him over the sound of his car.

"Of course my love," you say just as softly. "I knew you'd worry as soon as you saw the news."

Another moment passes between the two of you. Rafayel thinks his heart fell out of his chest - or it would have if it was still his to hold. Instead, it's beating firmly in your palm, only able to do so under your affections.

"Rafayel, I'm really fine, I promise. I'm just hungry. Let's get something for dinner, yeah?" you offer, hoping to redirect his energy.

"Yeah," he replies, exhaling deeply.

"Anything you want my beloved. Just name it and it's yours."

[vhaos-chaotic-writing]

Hello, Can I resquest, Transformers One, Yandere Sentinel Prime with a cybertronian reader conjux HCS

Oooh Sentinel Prime - lowkey, I believed I was gonna hate his guts until my very last breath. But I forgot I like fucked up characters that also have babygirl tratis (I mean - I am obsessed with Starscream, I understimated myself).（〃｀ 3′〃）

Yandere!Sentinel Prime (TFO) w/ Conjux Cybertronian!Reader (HCs)

WARNING: Yandere behaviour, possessive and obsessive elements, manipulation, psychological and emotional abuse, forced relationship.

Sentinel Prime is definitely a manipulative, possessive yandere that is not afraid to punish his Conjux with psychological or emotional punishment types.

You were older than both Orion Pax and D-16, a miner too - a hard working one who was always kind and tried to remain positive to everything, even when the guards were kind of jerks and your teammates got hurt while working.

Sentinel met you one day he went down to the mines to just say empty words and promises that fooled enough his blind admirers to keep up working hard. The moment his optics met yours among the other miners... he felt like his spark vibrated.

Uh, how strange - he was sure he was definitely disgusted by any bot, no matter if they were femme, mechs or none, that were a miner.

But here he is, thinking about you and talking Airachnid's audials off about you.

Maybe now he understood what Megatronus said about feeling his spark sing whenever Solus Prime was by his side.

Sentinel Prime started to look after you, visiting you down in the mines and trying to woo you. And while you were quite flattered... something in your spark knew something was wrong. You didn't knew exactly what it was wrong - but everything pointed at Sentinel, one way or another.

You tried to be polite and paint an imaginary limit line between you and the false Prime - but Sentinel knew what you were doing. And he wasn't gonna have it.

"Hehe... oh, sweetspark - it's so funny how you think you can just reject my advances! You should be grateful I have my optics on you, dear! But... Oh, well, I wished we had an organic 'fall-in-love' story to later tell our sparklings! But you left me with no options."

You were... confused. And scared. But before you could even step back, you felt a painful kick in the back of your helm, soon everything going dark.

When your optics onlined, you were met with a... new faceplate.

"Oh, thanks Primus! My love, are you okay?" The unknown mech asks as he gently craddles your faceplate with his servos.

"Where... where am I? What...?" You start to ask, blinking a few times before tilting your helm, staring with curiosity at the mech. "Who are you?"

The mech seems to smile a little bit more to then change his expression one to sadness. "Oh, my sweetspark - you don't remember me?"

The mech - Sentinel Prime - gently held your servo as both of you walked among the big, luxurious hallways of his home, explaining to you how you both were soon to be Conjuxes, him being a Prime and you were part of the guards. While on a mission against the Quintessons, you got hurt and your T-cog got taken, you nearly died! But your beloved soon to be Conjux saved you!

You just... accept it. I mean, you didn't remember anything (but something felt like missing inside of your system). But you didn't mind, you felt safe and loved in Sentinel's hold.

If Sentine Prime was not around because of needing to attend important Prime business, Airachnid is always with you - and she became a sort of... guardian. One who always followed you and kept Sentinel updated about you.

Sentinel blatantly manipulates you whenever you show any type of doubt or consideration on what he says or does. "My sweetspark, please... I nearly lost you one time. And I felt like my spark was going to die. I cannot lose you again, please. I love you so much."

It always works - after all, you don't know exactly who you were once are. Sentinel Prime is everything you have.

"Without me - you are nothing."

A few days after having woken up from your forced induced stasis mode, both of you became the Conjux Endura of each other, everyone on Iacon saw the event and celebrated. Sentinel Prime held you closely, snuzzling his helm softly against the top of yours, keeping one arm wrapped your behind and his free servo holding yours.

And you smile, preciously painted and adorned. But... something still, deep inside of your spark, knows something is wrong. But whenever you see at Sentinel's smile, you can't help but smile back and ignore that uncertain sensation.

After all - You've always been meant to be Sentinel Prime's conjux.

Everything is okay.

(ﾉ*ФωФ)ﾉ Vhaos out!

[eternally-racing]

keep her safe | lando norris

pairing: dad! lando x wife! reader (+ their teenage daughter!)

genre: fluff & angst-ish

warnings: racing crash, reader/lando's kid is in the hospital, some swearing

wc: 1.4k

summary: Nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching your daughter's first crash in formula 3.

note: this fic can be read as part of the racer girl series or as a stand alone as well!

----

Lando always hated pulling the “I’m a celebrity” card when you two were out in public. He's never wanted the special treatment that companies wanted to give him before, but the minute he sees his daughter crash in her first Formula 3 race, he’s trying to pull out every trump card he has to get his way into the medical tent. 

“That’s my fucking daughter in there, you can’t keep her from me! This is absolutely insane! I’m Lando fucking Norris, don’t you know who I am?”  Lando is yelling and yelling and you hold him back by the wrist because otherwise you think he might actually charge at the door to try and get through it. 

He more than anyone here knows what a bad crash looks like, and from the minute he saw your daughter, Piper, go into the barriers he knew that it was a rough one. There’s cameras swarming around you both but he doesn’t care (It’s not like he was a PR team’s dream when he was a driver himself). That’s his little girl in there and she’s hurt. There’s now a full commotion in front of the medical area and Lando admits defeat as he sinks back into the wall behind him and crumbles to the floor with you following suit. 

“She’s afraid of needles, Y/N.” Lando says no louder than a whisper towards the shut doors “Who’s gonna tell them that she’s afraid of needles if I’m not there?”

You know that if she’s in a state where they’re not letting you see her and she’s being transferred to the hospital that she likely has already gotten a lot of needles and wasn’t conscious enough to feel them, but you keep that information to yourself once you see the worried look on Lando’s face. This exact moment is something you two had worried about ever since your little girl first stepped in a kart, and somehow it was worse than you had ever imagined it would be.

By the time you and Lando make it to the hospital it feels like hours have gone by, even though in reality it hadn’t been more than a handful of minutes. Lando’s never been more grateful for his success when a nurse recognizes him and immediately guides you both in the direction of Piper’s room. He’s not sure he would’ve been able to make it through a conversation right now anyways. 

The scene inside is every parent’s worst nightmare. There are lines going in and out of Piper’s arms and bags of fluid are hung next to her bed; there are too many machines beeping and showing numbers and graphs that you just can’t understand. You feel Lando’s knees buckle beside yours and you keep an arm around his waist to keep him steady. You both need each other right now, there’s no doubt about that. 

When Piper cries out for her daddy from the hospital bed it brings a fresh set of tears to your eyes. You can’t remember the last time Piper actually called Lando daddy, it had been “dad” for the most part or “Mr.Norris” if she felt like being cheeky, but hearing those words from her mouth brought you right back to when she was a little girl, your little girl. 

Lando rushes to her side and has both hands caressing her face. He knows that she’s been checked over by the doctors, but he needs to see for himself that she’s really okay. He presses his forehead against hers as they cry together. You’ll never fully understand what Piper’s just been through, but the man standing in front of her does all too well. 

You hang back a bit to talk to the doctors, who try to give you a comprehensive update on her status, but as soon as you hear the words “she’s fine and on track to make a complete recovery” you zone out as you finally let out the breath that it feels like you’ve been holding this whole time. You’re about to go rejoin your family once you hear the next words out of your daughter’s mouth.

“I’m sorry dad, I know this meant a lot to you.” Piper sighs as she pulls the hospital sheets up to her chin.  “Did I at least make it around a lap? Am I the youngest ever female formula 3 driver to complete a lap in a grand prix?” 

This is when Lando has to face the music - he got so excited about his daughter dreaming of Formula 1 that he may have pushed her a little too far if his daughter is more worried about beating records than she is about her own health. Lando tries to calm his own breathing as he grabs both of Piper’s hands to lay on his own to get her full attention. He wants to make sure she fully understands what he’s about to say.

“You’re always going to be my little girl, Pipes. Racing or not, I am always proud of you. I never want you to feel like you have to impress me.” Lando doesn’t even answer Piper’s question about the record because frankly he has no idea. He’s never once cared about awards and prizes and all of the fancy shit. All he’s ever wanted is for her to be happy, and he tells her exactly that. 

Piper stops crying long before Lando does, and you’re amazed by the maturity your daughter shows as she starts wiping the tears from your husband’s eyes. You all just need a little family cuddle so you do exactly that, and take a moment to appreciate the lives that the three of you have and how precious that is. The sentimental moment is only broken by your daughter, who says that she has a little request for the two of you. 

“Do you think you can ask the doctors if they can give me the good stuff that you got back in Vegas all those years ago, dad?”  

Moments like this remind you that Piper is her father’s daughter and it earns a laugh from you both. 

“Not a chance, kid, but good try.” 

For the first time in what feels like years, the 3 of you sleep in one bed together. It’s one teeny tiny hospital bed made for a teenager, so you both wake up with extremely sore backs but very full hearts. Piper’s the first to fall asleep, understandably spent from the day she’s been through, but you notice Lando’s eyes never leave her, as if he’s worried she’ll disappear if he looks away. You reach over to grab his hand, you get it. Call it parental instinct, but that feeling of anxiety after something bad happens to your child is just something you can’t push away, and you want him to know that you’re here for him. You both wordlessly take turns watching over Piper throughout the night, holding her hand through blood draws and med deliveries. 

 Lando spends all day and night at Piper’s side while she’s recovering, and it’s only when you and your daughter tell him that he smells absolutely horrendous and needs to go shower do you finally get him to take a beat for himself. He still calls 3 times on the drive home from the hospital alone to check how Piper’s doing, and you have to threaten to not pick up the next time he calls before he finally takes a bit of a break. So often it feels like children drift away from their parents in their teenage years, but Piper’s recovery has given you both the opportunity to spend some much needed time with her as she grows up. 

The minute Piper is cleared by the medical team she’s instantly back in the simulator. She’s a little daredevil like her daddy after all. Lando of course asks over and over again if she’s doing this for herself and not him, the fear of making the same mistakes as earlier weighing heavy on his mind. Your daughter is nothing if not honest, so she tells him about how she loves the sport itself but also loves the way she’s able to connect to her dad through it. Lando makes her pinky promise that she’ll let her know if she ever changes her mind on the subject, and lucky for you both, she never does.

---

author's note: this was based on a lovely request from a reader! if you have any requests feel free to drop them in my ask box :) If you liked this piece and haven't read racer girl yet, give it a read because I'm sure you'll love that one too!

Until next time! - Em <;3

[covetyou]

ghosted

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (satisfyer "glowing ghost"), unprotected P in V, creampie, oral (f receiving), reader loves floor time (so does Joel), angst (but we fix it), some anxiety/depression adjacent things. word count: 5751 summary: As spring moves into summer, the only thing you're wishing for is to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on. But, by the time the end of May is on the horizon, the time between still isn't enough - You haven't forgotten, and you haven't moved on.

A/N: thank you to everyone still sticking with this sporadic-installment-series-that-was-never-meant-to-be-a-series. our next visit to these two will be 4th July in stars and stripes, but until then, enjoy 💛

(and yes I know I am technically later than planned with this for non Americas folk - I couldn't get the ending to my liking until suddenly I could, and now its gone midnight. whoops!)

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If it was true that time flies when you're having fun, it was safe to say the opposite was true too.

You weren't having fun, and time was well and truly crawling by at a snails pace.

That wasn't for lack of trying. In recent weeks you'd spent more time out of the house than you ever had - lunch with friends, drinks with colleagues, solo trips to bookstores and farmers markets. There was barely a moment of time you hadn't filled with something.

It was probably a shitty coping mechanism, all things considered, but it was the best you had. You couldn't quite bring yourself to confide in anyone your secret shame of letting a stranger into your house and touch you like he belonged there. The even bigger shame of living in a place for so very long and not knowing how the door worked, not knowing the stranger was your neighbor, being so very consumed in your own life - woe is you - that you didn't bother paying attention to the lives of the people around you. So, you kept on willing the passage of time, and filling every moment you could with distractions.

It wasn't that you were usually one for wishing time away. A slow, warm spring before the blazing heat of summer consumed everything would usually be a good thing - even better now that you'd lived and experienced your first Texas summer and were soon to have your second.

What you were really wishing for was to be so far from the events of Easter, and Valentine's and Christmas before it, that you could forget and move on.

As it was, by the time the end of May was on the horizon, the time between still wasn't enough. Almost two months to the day, and it still ached and burned in you just as much as it always had, if not more. The embarrassment and shame of not knowing how to work a fucking lock was one thing, the fear of the danger you'd put yourself in was another. Then there was the sadness, the loss, the unexpected emptiness at losing something you weren't even sure you had to begin with. And then, in more recent weeks, was the longing.

And you didn't want to feel any of it.

When Memorial Day Weekend eventually rolls around, the blossoming heat of summer keeping you indoors, you lie there on your living room floor, a fan blowing not quite cool enough air across your sweaty body until a knock at the door disturbs the patterns your eyes were tracing on the ceiling.

The dimness in your vision doesn't go away, even as you blink away the dust and try to get your eyes to adjust. The sun had set, apparently. It wasn't completely dark just yet, but dark enough to cast the lower level of your home in shadow, and you hadn't even noticed. You technically had plans today - plans that had now gone to shit, much like everything else.

Hauling yourself from the ground, you unlock your door, no thought or care of who could be on the other side of it, because one thing was certain - it wouldn't be Joel. You'd lost hope of that weeks ago. Each time you opened it with a fools hope in your mind, you were instead handed a delivery and told to have a good day as you stared out into the street, disappointed that it was only a clitty-blaster-3000, or a new blender, and not Joel.

You mindlessly pull open the door, expecting to be handed a package you hadn't ordered, or to even see a friendly face coming to pull you out for plans you agreed to but didn't really want to do.

But there he is. Two months later - but not too late, you don't think - and entirely out of the blue. Nervous hands are thrust into his pockets with his thumbs twitching on the outside of his jeans, standing there like he didn't belong here at all, when everything in your body was screaming he's home.

This was far from the first time you'd seen him since March. The first time was barely three days after you pushed him away. April Fools' Day, of all days. Fitting, you thought, given how much of a fucking fool you felt whenever you remembered everything you'd done, and said, and felt. It turns out he was the owner of the truck you'd seen parked in a drive a little way down the street, father to the little girl you'd seen bounding out of that house so many times before. Neither thing made the hurt in your chest any less, and you'd driven past with a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes.

The same happens now, but you fight them back so you can see more clearly as his mouth twitches into a small smile, making you freeze on the spot. Your mind was already blank, but that freezes too, and you stare at him dumbstruck for a moment so long you're certain a flicker of concern dances across his eyes.

And you could close the door in his face, push him out and away just like you did on that day over two months ago, but you don't. As you come back around, finally letting your brain reconnect with the rest of your body, the only thing you can feel is relief and total utter joy at getting to see him up close again.

There's still shame too. That's been simmering low and mellow in you for so long now that it's fused with your bones - you're not sure you'll ever shake it - but it's the least important thing right now as you stand and look at him, more awkward and uncertain than you've ever seen him.

"Hi."

You're surprised it's you who speaks first, given how dry your mouth is all of a sudden, seeing him up close again and looking as good as, if not better, than he ever has.

"Hey," he says, before clearing his throat. "S'good to see you."

It's a voice you didn't want to forget, but apparently damn near almost had, given the way your body reacts to it. Deep and rumbling, with the slow southern drawl trickling down your spine like honey and settling between your thighs - though in all honesty that might just be sweat. It really is hot in here, worse now that you're standing, and the fan is doing absolutely nothing to help. You look a mess too - your hair, your clothes, your life - but he doesn't seem to mind, and you're grateful, because right now this is as good as you've got.

"Wanted to see how you were doin'. Figured we should talk," he says with another soft smile.

Stepping aside, you give him a small nod as you silently invite him into your home for the first time. Which should be funny, given the unknown number of times he's been through this door, but you're not ready to laugh about any of it just yet.

When the door closes behind him, it's soft and gentle, barely audible over the fan blasting warm air at you, and you wonder if it's always like that. If he's always quiet as a mouse, and you always too oblivious to notice - between the two of you, you didn't stand a hope in hell in figuring it all out until it was too late and blew up in your face. Now, here you are, egg on your face, the heat in the room not helping the heat in your cheeks, trying desperately not to send him away when you've just invited him in.

It would be easier if it all still felt like a dream, but it didn't. That had changed.

Joel had never been much of a normal man in your mind. He was more of a fantasy come to life. A fantasy that was slowly building into something more and more real with each encounter. Even now, stood in normal shoes, wearing a normal t-shirt, and even more normal jeans - just Some Guy by anybodies standard - he looks as beautiful and fantastic as ever.

"Wanted to talk to you sooner. Wanted to leave it up to you given - y'know. Everythin'. Didn't want you to think I was just bargin' in all the time when it was convenient for me," he says, this very normal man already making you feel both silly and elated that he was waiting for you as much as you were waiting for him. Obviously you could have gone to him first. You just couldn't do it. You almost had so many times, but the twist of your key in the door would twist something in the pit of your stomach too, and you'd stop before you even made it out the house.

You knew why. It was always the same thing. You didn't want to talk - not ever. You just wanted things to be okay, or not, and go on with your life. It was one of those childish things you had your mom to thank for - she wasn't great at talking about the important thing either.

The difference now was Joel. You wanted to talk to him, you wanted to work out everything with him rather than alone in your head. But prior to the door incident, that wasn't what this was and after - well, fuck - after, it seemed that it could have been like that all along but you were too damn late to do anything about it.

"Know you were angry with me - maybe still are - and I -"

"I wasn't angry with you," you blurt out, already aware of the lie the moment it leaves your lips. Joel is too, and he raises an eyebrow at you. "Okay. Yes. It pissed me off - you pissed me off. Happy?"

"No. Never wanted to piss you off, darlin'," he murmurs in return, and you can see that he means it by the way all of him softens, drooping in defeat at your admission.

"I... You embarrassed me, Joel. I feel embarrassed, okay? I feel like a stupid idiot, and I -"

You can already feel it all coming back. The swirling in your head, and the heat creeping up your chest and down your arms, not helped by this sweltering fucking house. It's like fainting, but instead of blacking out, a white hot rage is ready to ignite in you. And of everything, it's the thing you most never want to feel again. You'd take all the sadness, loss, emptiness, and longing of the last two months a million times over if it means you never have to feel this again.

" - and it makes me angry. And I hate feeling like that, like this, and I just couldn't come talk to you because I feel so stupid."

"Woah, darlin', c'mon now, we both know you ain't stupid."

"I don't know how to work a fucking door, Joel. Do you know how long people have had doors?"

Taking a deep breath, you close your eyes before starting up again, hoping Joel will take the lead and talk for you first, but he doesn't.

"And I thought we were on the same page. That we were both doing the same silly thing, and it was okay that it was silly and fun, because we were both in on the joke. And... I liked seeing you. I liked it when you were here and it just - it just feels like it was a lie, and what I got out of it isn't what you got out of it. And that's okay, but it still feels stupid. I feel like an idiot, and an asshole, and knowing that you knew so much more about me than I knew about you, I just-"

"Do you want to?" he asks. "Do you wanna get to know me? Just gotta say, and it's done. I want you to know about me - I never meant to hide anythin' from you like that. And I don't want you to be mad, and I don't want you to feel embarrassed, cause the way I see it, we both got shit to be embarrassed about. I was breakin' into your house for months, thinkin' I was invited."

You wince a little, and he just smiles, shrugging his broad shoulders that what's done is done, nonchalance easing your anxiety for the first time ever rather than making it worse.

"I used to stand out there in front of your door and talk to your doorbell like you'd talk back to me any minute," Joel says with a laugh. "Course, now I get that you probably ain't got it hooked up. Never did hear the fuckin' thing ring."

Fuck. Right. Yeah, he's got you there. You'd bought it when you moved in, at your mom's insistence, and never got around to connecting it to anything. You figured it just being there would be deterrent enough and, other than visits from Joel, it had been.

He laughs again at your poorly masked grimace, and any other time you'd maybe be infuriated by him finding humor in something you'd been hurting over for weeks. It's not until you meet his eye and see the silliness in it all too - neither of you really did have any hope.

"Right? It's dumb. Not you, not me, it's just dumb. I even used to tell you when I'd be over next, let you know when to expect me. Leave out a key or put the door on the latch if it's okay for me to come by. I thought I was bein' invited in, but I was breakin' in. Shit. You're embarrassed, and I'm a criminal, I guess we're both losers."

Any anger you had is gone in a flash as laughter ripples through your belly and out your throat. In a way, it's all true. Joel was just as fucked as you, had just as much to be embarrassed and fearful about as you. Unknowingly leaving your home vulnerable to intruders is one thing, but being an accidental criminal for months is another.

"I liked it. I... I never knew when you were coming."

"Hey, if that's what gets your rocks off," he says with a wink, and you laugh again. "I ain't one to judge, but we can explore that in safer ways than keepin' a door unlocked day and night."

You both realize what he said the second the word left his lips.

We.

As in us.

As in together.

And you think he might take it back as quick as he said it, but he doesn't. He just looks at you, half fearful that he said the wrong thing, half hopeful that he said the right thing.

"Okay."

With one word he brightens, and you can feel it in you too. Whatever it is is mutual. Has been since the red velvet coat, since the wings, since the bunny ears, and all the spaces in between.

"Yeah? Cause I'd like to start over, if that's okay with you."

"Well, that sounds like a terrible idea," you say bluntly, because honestly you cannot think of anything worse. Joel's slow steps towards you falter for a second as he tries not to let the disappointment in his face show, but you're already smiling. "You can pry Santa, Cupid, and Flopsy from my cold, dead hands."

And his laugh is glorious, cracking open the remnants of the walls you'd put around yourself and letting your bones soak in the warmth of him, just as his arms come to wrap around you, pulling you against his chest. He smells so familiar - that's one thing you know about him. You might not know about his favorite color, or what he likes to eat, or even his daughters name just yet. But you know what he smells like, how his smile lights up his eyes, and how his hands feel on you, anchoring you in place even as you send yourself dizzy breathing him in.

He's going to kiss you too. You know that, and you welcome it, but before he can, you pull back.

"There's so much I want to know, I don't know how I missed so much."

"You get one question before I'm kissin' you."

You think for just a second before looking down to where your fingers curl into his shirt - an old Fleetwood Mac tee, so washed and worn it's like butter beneath your fingers.

With a wry smile, you look up at him from beneath your lashes, unable to hold back the laughter in your voice. "What are you dressed as today? Don't think I know this one, you're usually on theme."

"This? I'm just your plain ol' friendly neighborhood Joel Miller."

His lips are on yours then, pressing a soft kiss into the curve of your mouth, eyes searching yours for one, two, three seconds, before he dives back in, kissing you in earnest, making up for all the in betweens you'd been wishing away.

You wrap yourself around him, clinging to him, damn near wanting to climb up him, as you make out like teenagers in the middle of your living room. His hands wander across your shoulders, down your spine, grasping at any softness he can find along the way until his hands settle - one on your ass, and one gently cupping the back of your neck.

And as you kiss, holding each other close like you were long lost lovers and not whatever this thing between you was, you can't help but think that Joel Miller may just be your favorite Joel yet.

"Now, I got a question for you," he mumbles into your mouth, each word chased by your kisses. You've never wanted to seem desperate before, but right now you don't care, and by the way he's holding you, Joel doesn't mind either.

"Why the fuck do you have a nightlight?"

Shooting him an inquisitive look, you follow his gaze over your shoulder.

There on your counter, little light blinking away, is your very own clitty-blaster-3000, a luminous ghost with its mouth set in a permanent O, glowing brightly in the darkness. Shit. You'd brought it down this morning to charge, needing to keep a watchful eye on it and its janky magnetic charger to make sure it charged fully. You'd totally forgotten about it, and now here it was, glowing like a beacon after being out in the sun all day.

You try to pull away from Joel, but with his arms locked around your body, and his mouth pressing soft whiskered kisses to your neck, you don't have the strength, or the inclination, to move.

"It's not a nightlight, I can go put it away, if you just gimme-"

He tucks you behind him, swatting away your arms as you feebly try to reach around and grab it from him. Truthfully, you quite like the idea of him holding it, using it, but you feel bad that he might not know what it is.

"Not a nightlight, huh?" He says, grabbing the toy from the counter, said charger immediately popping off and clattering to the ground. He inspects it, turning it over in his hands, bringing it so close to his face it casts shadows across his features with its glow. "Oh, I know what this is."

"What is it then, smartass."

"Other than Pac-Man's worst nightmare? It's one of them clitty-blaster-3000 things."

Eyes wide, you double over, cackling and holding desperately onto yourself so you don't totally fall apart in front of him. He laughs with you, though maybe it's a little bit at you too, but you don't mind.

"What?!" he says smiling as he watches you fight to right yourself, gripping his forearm with laugh weakened fingers.

"That's what I call it!"

"Yeah? It good?"

His eyes are burning into yours. You know where this is going, and there's a brief thought that maybe you should stop it, slow things down. But you don't. Instead, you bite your lip and nod, making a noise of confirmation as Joel fiddles with the buttons on the toy.

A second later, it whirrs to life, a gentle throbbing buzz meeting your ears.

Joel puts his thumb over the hole, the suction gently hammering away at his finger tip as he clicks up and up through the intensity until he's well past a level you can use it at.

"Shit, yeah. Can see how that'd feel good."

"I, uhm, like to tease myself with it."

"Yeah?" he says as it clicks back down through the settings and rests on the softest one again. "Is that how you use it? Just to tease yourself?"

"No," you say, gasping a little when he raises the toy to your neck, pressing the mouth of the ghost to you as if pressing a kiss to your skin. "I - I just kinda stick it on there, to be honest. But I go slow with the - with the settings."

Joel clicks up one setting, the gentle thrumming at your neck intensifying a little.

"Yeah? You take your time? Give her what she deserves?"

You forgot what this was like - how easy and good it was to give in to wanting him, and how easy it was to let yourself have him too.

"Mhm."

"Good. Can't say I ain't jealous though. Missed comin' here. Seein' you. Thought about you, thought about comin' to see you but -"

"Thought about you too."

"When you were usin' this?"

You nod, tilting your head to the side and sighing as he glides the tip of the toy across your pulse point, behind your ear, down the column of your throat.

"Can I use it on you?"

You damn near want to tell him he can do whatever the fuck he wants with you, but the words are lost when you nod again and he captures your mouth in another kiss, brutal in its softness as he guides you back to your couch and all the plush cushions you have stacked there. Since Christmas, your home décor skills have definitely improved. Things look a little less bare, the place looks a little more lived in. There's still pictures to hang and empty spaces on shelves to fill, but you know those things will come in time. For now, you're grateful for the comfy place you've made on your sofa as Joel sits you down, guiding you down with strong hands.

Your shorts are quickly pulled off, the toy pulled from your neck so Joel can kiss his own better trail across your flesh. You hold him to you, anchor him into your bosom like he might drift off like a spectre in the night if you don't, but he's as latched to you as you are to him.

And then he's on his knees for you, jeans straining as his cock swells, hands gripping your thighs then pushing your shirt up, exposing you for him. Panties soon follow your shorts, yanked down your legs in a joint effort by your left hand and his right as he can't resist lapping at your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours.

He's everything you tried to forget, and some of the things you did. He's strong, and broad. He's gentle too, and soft - his eyes, mostly, but some other parts of him too. He's silly, and playful, smiling into your mouth and nipping at you, the hand by your thigh teasing the buzzing toy over the delicate skin there and delighting in your shudder.

As he moves it closer, the sounds of the suction against your skin making you both giggle, he moves down, burying his face into your neck and breathing in. You already know that it's never been like this before - that this is something new, just like every other time before had been something new.

"So you just stick it on, huh?"

"Lube. With lube."

His face is between your legs in an instant, licking messily around your clit, not really trying to get you off, just aiming to get you wet. When he pulls back, toy in hand, he raises the glowing toy mouth to his own and licks, smiling at the sound of it suctioning to his tongue.

"That good enough?"

And you nod, giving in to his kisses again before he breathlessly spreads you apart with both hands, looking at your cunt like if he blinks it'll all fade away.

"You know I ain't seen this for three months?"

"You been counting?"

"I missed you," he repeats with a breathless kiss to your thigh. "Missed this."

He lights his way with the glow of the toy rumbling in his hand, pulling back your clit for just one second, barely holding in a groan, before he gently holds the mouth of the ghost to you, pressing until the obscene slurp is muffled by full suction on your clit.

And it's divine, just like it always is, but somehow made even better by the man doing it to you. Fascinated eyes don't stop watching as it hammers air lightly at your clit in a constant rhythm, and the sight alone makes you drip. You're grateful for the heat now, and the sheet you'd covered your velvet sofa with, saving you an undoubtedly messy clean up later.

The toy slips when Joel climbs back off his knees to press his mouth to yours, and the air splutters and ripples past your skin again, as Joel laughs into your mouth.

"The sound of this thing, jesus fuckin' christ. Sounds like you're -"

"Don't. Don't make me laugh, you'll distract me."

"I like it when you laugh," but he's already pressing it flush to your skin again, stopping the sound and sending the ripples directly back to your clit.

"Ohh, f- "

"That's it," he says, watching as your hips rock ever so slightly into the throbbing toy sucking away on your clit. "Fuck, that's it. Lettin' me get you off with this thing."

"Think I can get some fingers in and keep this right where you need it?"

"Mm."

"Yeah?" he says, swiping at your entrance with his middle fingers, carefully holding the toy in place with his palm. "Just like that. There we go. Right in there. Fuck, I missed this. Missed bein' in here."

"Fuck."

"That's it. You come on 'em. Wanna feel it."

"Joel, down. Move it down. Ple- ah."

"There?"

"Right there," you sigh, panting and barely making it through the words before your eyes snap shut.

And then Joel is in your ear, his breath fanning against you, cooling you for a second even as his fingers stoke the fire raging in your core.

"You're fuckin' beautiful," he murmurs, and you just know he's looking down at you, the picture of a perfect mess. A sheen of sweat on your skin, lips swollen and parted as you gasp, thighs spread wide, hips rocking into Joel's illuminated palm, t-shirt rucked high over your hips, hands on your tits, nipples pinched between your own fingers, moaning, panting, coming.

You twitch in his arms, burying your head in his neck and breathing deep. Something about the position you're in can keep it going longer, can keep that thrumming pressure on your clit right where it is, past your usual limit, dragging your orgasm on and on until you're gasping Joel's name.

He gingerly pulls the glowing toy off of you - its brightness dimmed only slightly since you lost sight of it between your legs - fiddling with buttons until he gives in and throws it to the side to run his hands over you.

With a light kisses to your parted lips, he apologizes, giving you softly muttered sorrys for ever upsetting you, for taking so long to come talk to you, and before you can return the sentiment, he sends you laughing again.

"And I'm sorry for breakin' into your house. Accidentally."

Your laughter makes him shift, and his face contorts as he gasps in discomfort.

"Fuckin' jeans. Pinchin'," is all he says, as he tries to adjust himself. You can see his zipper strain with the weight of his cock, stiff and unattended, behind the thick fabric.

"Take 'em off."

"Came here for you, not me."

"And if I want you to come for me?"

Joel blinks.

"Then I'm takin' my damn pants off," he says, taking his pants off. He sighs in relief when the pressure on his cock is released, groans when your hand palms him over the damp fabric, gasps into your mouth when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband, finding his cock slick and wet with precum, curses into your hair when you lick the salty taste of him from your fingers.

Tugging his boxers down a little more, his cock springs free, slapping his wet tip against his belly. In a blink you're on him, pulling off his shirt as you go to suck wet kisses into his neck, his chest, and letting your fingers toy with his nipples and the other feel down past his boxers, cupping his balls and rolling your thumb across the sensitive flesh before he pushes up into you.

He's solid. You're surprised he didn't come in his pants with how firm he feels slipping against your cunt. You meet his thrust, grinding down into his solid length, trying to hold your own shirt up so you can see the tip of his cock as he ruts against you.

"Does that feel good?"

"Fu - yeah. Y'always feel good."

"Y'know what would feel better," you whisper, scratching gently down his chest and watching goosebumps prickle his skin. With a shift of your hips, his next thrust pushes in, just slightly, before popping out and grinding into your clit again. His next thrust - slower, firmer - notches against your entrance and pushes in, Joel's hands on your ass dragging you down, until you're seated to the root of him.

It's a stretch. It always was. But over three months, and a decline in solo sessions, made it even more so.

Still, even through the stretch, you rock against him, looking into the eyes of Joel Miller, the normal, every day guy who lives down your street, and smile at it all, and the look on his face that says he couldn't be luckier.

"Said I wanted you to come, didn't I?"

And you meant it. You show him how much you mean it as you start to ride him, lifting higher and higher off of him before pushing back down. Your thighs clap against his, wet with sweat and slipping together with each movement, echoing around your living room.

It doesn't last long. It can't. It's too fucking hot, and you're woefully out of practice as the stretch in your pussy turns into a burn in your legs. You can see Joel's face start to pinch and contort, looking between your face, your bouncing tits, and the slip of his cock in and out of you, barely visible in the shadows.

But you can't keep going. You'll pass out if you do. Joel's hands register what you're doing before his face does, gripping tighter and holding you down on him, before his mouth opens in a gasp, his head falling back after losing something he was so close to getting.

You barely pull in a breath of warm air before Joel is dragging you down, flipping you unceremoniously onto your back on the floor.

It's cooler down here, even with Joel's body over yours. It's why you were on the floor to begin with, before he came back, before you let him back in. Joel fumbles against you, the sweat on your body acting more like a full body lube at this point, before he slides back in, knocking the air out of you as he fills you all over again.

Even though his knees will be bruised in the morning and your back will ache, he pounds into you, gripping your shirt and pulling you down with each thrust.

And it's just so fucking good you can't help but practically scream as he fucks you, moaning loudly into his ear as he groans and pants and swears into yours. Your fingers can't find purchase against his back, even as you desperately claw at him. There's too much sweat - it's too fucking hot in here - but you wouldn't change any of the desperate mess that you find yourselves in here on the floor.

He's growling, balls slapping against you, fucking you so hard you have to throw a hand out to hold onto the couch.

"I'm gonna - fuck - look at me. Look. Fuck. Fuck."

He presses in then, spurting deep in you, stealing the air from your mouth, and you from his, as you gasp and groan with each shallow thrust of his hips.

When he pulls out, hands going from bruising grip to gentle strokes, he rolls off of you, his back slapping wetly against the ground just as your pussy makes its own equally wet sound. And you laugh, because it's silly, just like it always has been, with or without a costume or a name that's not quite his own to go with it. Joel chuckles along with you, content and dozy from his orgasm, the evidence of it trickling out of you and making a mess of your floor as your stomach contracts with laughter.

The house cools down in the darkness - not much, but enough. Your hands find each other again too, and you each dance small patterns across each others skin until words come back to you.

You talk there on the floor, sweat drying on your skin, until the rumble of your stomach becomes too distracting to continue. You learn his favorite color, what he does for a living, his daughters name. You even learn the exact make and model of his truck, something you immediately forget.

And when he tries to excuse himself, too frightened of overstaying his welcome, you invite him to stay, and Joel Miller, the best Joel you've ever met, says yes.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups@wannab-urs@bean-is-reading@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog@youandmeand5bucks-blog@bbyanarchist@vickywallace@kamcrazy123@valkyreally@ashhlsstuff@a-literal-goblin@ariundercovers@iluvurfather@stevie75@toxicanonymity@thesevi0lentdelights@sp00kymulderr

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—”

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[lyrarizi]

THIS POST CONTAINS DISCUSSION ABOUT HAZBIN HOTEL LEAKS

i sadly saw the leaks of hazbin s2 and now a whole plotpoint is ruined for me, i can make sure if you are still saved from seeing them, this is my advice just take a couple days of social media ESPECIALLY of tiktok and wait until the leaks are removed from platforms because they are HEAVY leaks they arent just some simple conversations

how i found out is a gacha reaction video on youtube without ANY spoiler warnings, just dont watch upcoming reaction vids if you consume them people WILL take profit and make reactions, under the cut is the exact name of the video but im not going to type that here since its kinda on the nose and will give you a huge idea of what the leak is about

ALSO: i said under the cut that comments are a safe space to talk and discuss about the spoiler so do NOT look at them since they will showcase spoiler, so to make it clear hopefully

DO NOT LOOK IN THE COMMENTS IF YOU WANT TO STAY SPOILER FREE PLEASE <3

under the cut is discussion about one of the leaks so if you want to stay spoiler free i beg you do not read further

so about that leak..

i do not like it one bit, i am praying to god its fake because it is such a weird choice

because as we see in the leak rosie owns alastor's soul, that is heavily implied, and i myself do not like this choice

we can clearly see alastor does not like rosie and rosie only sees him as a pet and calls him so, this just ruins their whole dynamic for me

alastor and rosie seemed genuine friends and loved to spend time with one nother they were really cute, i thought alastor finally had somone he could lean on

so this

is all fake, all of alastor's moments that we thought were rare moments of his real joy, are fake.

rosie being happy that her best friend has returned from his 7 years disappearance to who knows where?

fake, she's just happy her pet is home to clean up her dirty work..

this also puts into perspective that alastor really does not have any real friends, niffty still always is on his leash so there is a power imbalance, husker probably hates him, vox hates him too and when they were friends i think alastor only was there for the entertainment or he saw him not as a friend anymore as soon as vox confessed

but i really do not like this.

i saw those two as a genuine friendship, married for tax benefits, queerplatonic, best friends for life, even lovers,

not as master/pet

they were cute together, alastor finally had someone he could trust and rosie had someone she could hangout with, gossiping together, rosie enables alastor and alastor enables rosie, maybe they were a bit transactional but you could clearly see they cared about eachother

in the leak we see a total different dynamic, alastor hates rosie and plays along with her, rosie takes delight in alastor's suffering and degrades him like calling him "pet" puts him in cages, uses him as a doll

this is the video i looked at:

im not shaming them this is just the internet but this clearly shows the leak without any sort of warning on the title, cover, or even in the description, i knew nothing about alastor's deal leaks so i had no idea this one would show leaks

as far as i know this the only gacha reaction up to this point where they react to leaks

but now, while i have been writing this post i have been thinking about it.

this is a fun twist i can say, nobody was seeing this coming this is an actual surprise

i can accept and deal with the fact that rosie is alastor's soulowner and maybe still find enjoyment in it, i mean i always love to see alastor suffer and him having 0 real friends is pretty funny (AND SAD)

but if you want to talk about the leaks here in the comments is a safe space to discuss, i can understand you would like to talk with someone about this revelation so come say hi in the comments if you want :D

UPDATE:

So have been thinking about the leak for a bit once i let it sink in

We saw the leak and it looks real (good animation that is hazbin hotel style and the voices are not ai or someone must have had a really good bot for that)

But just because we saw the leak doesn't mean we have context for it

I still am a full believer in the eve/roo theory even after this leak and have been pondering on this animatic

What if roo posessed or shapeshifted into rosie??

We know Alastor doesn't have a good relation with his soulowner and he seems to genuinely like rosie's company, he even bleats and his pupils dilate thats not something you can controle

So it makes no sense for it to be actually rosie

My theory is that roo wanted to be extra petty towards Alastor and decided to sing that song to him as rosie, because whats better than singing a song about owning their soul as their only real loyal best friend??

I know i'm just stretching at this point but i refuse to believe this without context and hazbin is already hella fucking complicated so this could fit

Anyways what do you think? You think this leak is real or fake, do you also not believe it or are you in denial? Lemme know i'm curious and love to trade theories! <3

[raysrays]

Crimson Guardian Part2 NSFW

Please check out Part One

Kyojuro Rengoku x Wife! Reader

18+ MDNI!🚫

CW: NSFW Content, minor angst, controlling/manipulating behavior, fluff-ish.

Y/N POV

Scenario: Once you agree to Kyojuro's request, you gather with Kagaya and the other Hashira to share your decision to retire early. But as you spend time with Kyojuro, you start noticing some changes in his behavior. You can't help but wonder, did you make a big mistake? He's your husband, after all. Surely, he wouldn't try to control or manipulate you. Maybe he's just worried about your safety and wants the best for you, right?

- Two Endings

A month had passed since I laid down my sword for the last time. I've spent my time at the Rengoku Estate as I had anticipated, assisting Senjuro with chores and cooking, while striving to earn Shinjuro's favor.

However, it all felt sluggish my days stretched out, feeling so unproductive.

Kyojuro was called on a mission far away, and he's been gone for almost two weeks now. I find myself overcome with loneliness, feeling hollow inside.

When I wasn't busy helping Senjuro, I often took walks and started getting into reading, though lately, I've found myself drawn to books on swordsmanship and battle techniques. It might seem pointless now, but it's all I have to occupy my mind.

Many times, I caught myself pacing around the estate, practicing fighting stances or swinging an imaginary sword, earning some strange looks from anyone nearby.

But I couldn't bring myself to share any of this with Kyojuro. I wanted him to believe I had moved on from being a demon slayer. Instead, I painted a picture of focusing on myself and preparing for the prospect of starting a family.

I've been writing to him almost every day since he left, keeping him updated on what's been happening back home and just checking in on him.

He says his mission has been successful so far, and he should be home very soon, which is good news. It's difficult to fully embrace retirement when the person you did it for isn't even here to enjoy it with you.

.

.

Today has been particularly slow. All I've done is help water the plants outside and dive deeper into my books. Shinjuro has been in his room, drinking, while Senjuro has been practicing his writing inside. And here I am, sitting under this same tree, reading the same book on breathing techniques for the past three hours...

However, my entire mood shifted the moment I heard the cawing of a crow announcing Kyojuro's return from his mission. He was finally home.

I could feel the excitement as I watched him walk through the gates of the estate, his big, bright eyes and fiery hair a welcome sight.

It didn't take long for him to spot me, as he quickly ran up and grabbed me, spinning me around in his arms.

"I've missed you so much, my little flame!" His booming voice was a comforting sound to hear in this moment.

I wrapped my arms tightly around his neck as he held me.

"I missed you so much, Kyo." It didn't take long for that hollow feeling I had earlier to finally disappear.

After he finally put me down, he pulled away to get a better look at me, scanning me up and down with his usual happy smile.

"You look so beautiful, my dear. Retirement seems to be treating you well already!"

"Oh, do you really think so?"

"Of course, sunflower. It's good to finally see you dressed casually and enjoying yourself at home. One of the main reasons my mission was such a success was because I wasn't worried about you. I knew you would be here waiting for me when I returned. I knew you would be safe."

I almost felt guilty. Since he left, I've been so bored out of my mind, stuck here at the estate, but if it’s really helping by keeping his mind at ease while he’s away I guess I don’t mind.

"How are you doing, my love? I know writing in letters can only reveal so much. Are you really okay?"

His voice softened, and his smile grew gentler. My heart raced at the sound. No matter how much time passed, I was still as in love and attracted to Kyojuro as I was the first time we met.

"Yes, I'm doing great. Senjuro and I have been quite productive lately. We even discussed setting up a small vegetable garden in the yard to reduce our trips to the village market." I forced a happy smile onto my face.

"That's wonderful news! I'm so happy you're finally making this old place your own." He then pulled me into another hug, burying me in his chest.

I couldn't bring myself to tell him the truth—that I was bored and missed the core and all my comrades and friends. They had all become so busy with work that I went from seeing them every day to never at all, so quickly.

As I relaxed into his embrace, I felt his body tense slightly. He pulled away from me slowly, his expression puzzled.

"Sunflower... what is it you're reading?"

I glanced behind me to see my book still lying on the ground, its cover exposed. It was just a book, surely not that significant.

"Oh, that's just an old breathing technique book I found in the study room. I thought it looked the most interesting out of the available options."

He looked at me for a moment, then took my hands in his, holding them tightly.

"My love, if you had told me you wanted to read, I would have gladly bought you as many books as you wanted. You don't need to waste your time sitting and reading about attacks and breathing techniques anymore." His voice was filled with concern.

Little did he know, I chose this book specifically to occupy my mind. If I couldn't fight anymore, the least I could do was read about it.

"That's sweet of you, Kyo, but honestly, I don't mind."

His smile returned somewhat, and he moved his hands to hold my shoulders, gently leading me back to the main part of the estate.

"Let's get you inside, my love. I'll tell you all about my mission!"

I allowed him to guide me back, passing Senjuro on the way.

"Go ahead, little flame. I need to have a word with Senjuro."

I observe as he starts walking toward his younger brother; they engage in conversation, and I begin to make my way indoors.

Despite my initial intention to leave, a strange hesitation washes over me. I linger by the doorframe, eavesdropping on their discussion.

Senjuro's voice reaches me first. "Welcome home, brother. How was your mission?"

"It went smoothly. I'm relieved to be back," he responds, pausing briefly.

"Senjuro, how's Y/N? Have you noticed anything unusual about her lately?" My ears perk up at the mention of my name.

"Y/N? She seems fine, I suppose. She's been quite helpful with chores around here," Senjuro replies.

"I see. Have you noticed her reading more?" he probes further.

"I think so. Though I'm not sure what she's been reading," Senjuro admits.

"I see. Please, keep an eye on her for me, Senjuro. I'm concerned," Kyojuro says, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Concerned about her reading?" Senjuro's confusion is evident.

"No, just in general."

With that, I turned away from the door, deciding it was best to stop listening in.

Why would Kyojuro worry about me? I'm safe at home, just like he wanted. Wasn't that the whole point of being here? To ease his mind?

I can feel a mix of frustration brewing inside me, and I'm not sure if it's aimed at Kyojuro or myself. I've always prided myself on my swordsmanship, setting high goals and pushing myself hard to protect others and find purpose.

But now, I can't even enjoy reading a book about what I love without making my husband worry.

I step into the kitchen, ready to get a head start on preparing dinner. Gathering the cooking utensils and spices, I realize all that's left is to chop some of the vegetables.

As I rinse them off, I notice we're short on a few key ingredients.

My garden plans with Senjuro would have been perfect right now. Looks like I'll have to make another trip to the market.

Letting out a small sigh, I tidy up and head towards the door to slip on my shoes. Honestly, I could use some fresh air. I feel guilty leaving knowing Kyojuro just got here, but I think he’d much rather dinner be super good than complain about me stepping out.

I had a stranger Lingering feeling. There's something about his smile that feels off, like there's a hidden pressure behind it. Why?

As I'm slipping on my shoes, I sense someone standing over me.

"Where are you off to, sunflower?" Kyojuro inquires.

"Just getting a head start on dinner and realized we're missing a few things. I was about to run to the market," I reply.

"Hurry back to me, my love. You know I don't like it when you're away." His warm smile could melt anyone's heart.

He plants a kiss on my cheek before heading back into the other room.

As much as I adore him and miss him, I need just a moment alone to think right now.

As I make my way to the village, I pick up some vegetables, meat, and a few other things we need for the estate. On my way back, I spot Tengen and his wives. They seem to notice me too, especially Makio, who starts waving enthusiastically in my direction.

I walk over to them, feeling happy to finally see some familiar faces. It feels like it's been ages since we last caught up.

“Y/N, it's good to see you," Tengen greets warmly.

“How have you been? We haven’t seen you in forever!” Makio cries out excitedly.

"I've been well, how are all of you?"

"We've been doing just great," he responds.

"How's, uh, retirement?" Hina asks with a half smile.

"Oh, retirement has been... great," I reply, attempting to sound convincing, though I'm not entirely sure I believe it myself.

Tengen lets out a sarcastic laugh. "Sorry, but it's just so hard to believe. You had one of the flashiest breathing styles and trained almost every day, only to retire before becoming a Hashira. I just always thought you were too stubborn to quit so early.”

Hina shoots him a quick glare.

But it's all true; Tengen and his wives have been around since before the beginning of my and Kyojuro’s relationship, training with us, going on missions, and even just hanging out together casually.

They exchange silent glances for a moment and I notice Tengen’s expression change into a more serious one.

"Y/N, Kyojuro is one of my closest friends, and it's really not my place, but... do you think maybe you decided all that just a tad too quickly?" Tengen sounds more sincere this time.

"I mean, you were on your way to becoming a Hashira yourself," Suma adds.

Taking a deep breath, I realize they're right, but I already knew that. I wasn’t the one they should be lecturing in this scenario. I never wanted to retire; I just wanted to make Kyojuro happy.

"I promise. This is a decision I've made. I want to settle down and start a family with Kyo. I wouldn’t want to risk going out on a mission and dying before having that opportunity," I assert.

Though they still seem unconvinced, Tengen puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

“Kyojuro's a lucky man to have someone who cares about him so much. However, I think you should stay in tune with your training for now.”

“You are still so young, Y/N! It’s always possible that once you have children, you could potentially want to come out of retirement. Maybe be a trainer for young slayers!” Makio adds with a hopeful tone.

Suddenly, my spirits lift. They were right. Just because I retire now doesn’t mean I can’t come out of retirement in a few years. As long as I keep training at home, I should be fine!

“I suppose you are all right. I will definitely keep training. I’m sure Kyo will think that’s a great idea.”

“That’s the spirit. I’m glad we got to run into you,” Tengen says with his usual smile.

“I’m glad I got to see all of you. I promise I’ll try to make an effort to come around more.”

“That sounds perfect,” Hina exclaimed.

After we exchange our goodbyes, I watch them walk off together, smiling and talking.

A wave of realization and relief washes over me. Maybe retirement didn’t have to be as bad as I was making it out to be.

.

.

Upon finally arriving back at the estate, I walked up to the entrance with a smile on my face.

I recalled there was a book in the study that taught some solo hand-to-hand combat techniques, perfect for practicing alone. I made a mental note to pick it up once I returned and start reading it after dinner.

As I entered, Senjuro greeted me with a warm smile.

“Welcome back, Y/N. I’ll finish up dinner since you went out of your way to get everything,” he offered kindly.

“Oh, you don’t have to do all that. I don’t mind,” I replied.

“I insist. You haven’t seen my brother for a while now, and I think he could use your company,” he chuckled nervously.

I hesitated for a second.

“Okay, only if you're sure,” I said, handing over the basket of food and supplies I had bought from the market.

He headed off to the kitchen, leaving me in the entryway, so I decided to make my way to our bedroom, shared by Kyojuro and me.

As I entered, I noticed he had changed out of his uniform into his more casual attire.

He looked at me with a kind smile on his face.

“I see you made it back safely,” he said, walking over to me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

He buried his face into the side of my neck, kissing it softly.

I felt myself shiver at his touch. He seemed so gentle and loving right now. I had truly missed him so much these past few weeks.

I gently ran my fingers through his fiery hair as I spoke, "I ran into Tengen and his wives at the market."

He pulled away slightly to look at me, his arms still wrapped around my waist.

"Really? Were they happy to see you?" he asked with a big smile.

"Yes, they were. We hadn't realized it had been so long since we all saw each other."

Kyojuro appeared to be deep in thought. "I suppose you're right. It has been a while since all of us got together. I should arrange for us to have dinner sometime!" he exclaimed happily.

I couldn't help but smile. "Yes, I think that would be lovely."

"What else did you all talk about? You were gone for quite some time," he inquired.

I debated telling him about their suggestion that I should consider keeping up with training and possibly coming out of retirement, but ultimately decided against it.

"Tengen was just telling me about a mission he had gone on recently. Nothing too crazy," I replied.

Kyojuro seemed satisfied with this answer. Why would I lie? I've never had any reason to lie to him before.

"That's great, sunflower. I'm happy you finally got to see some company. You seem so happy!" he remarked, his affection evident in his tone.

We lingered in each other's embrace for a few more moments until Senjuro's voice rang out, announcing that dinner was ready.

Hand in hand, we made our way to the table. Upon arrival, we found Senjuro had already set the table and prepared everything. Surprisingly, Shinjuro was already seated, wearing his usual drunken scowl, but he remained mostly silent.

As we ate, Kyojuro attempted to share details about his recent mission with his father, but received only silence and grunts in response. Despite years of trying, it seemed Kyojuro still sought his father's approval.

It felt kind of pointless to expect anything from Shinjuro. Even though I ended up spending more time with him than with Kyojuro lately, I just kept my distance. Honestly, I think he might even appreciate it.

After a few minutes of listening to Kyojuro, Shinjuro got up and was the first to leave the table, retreating to his room.

Though Kyojuro seemed disappointed, he maintained his neutral smile as he also began to wrap up his meal.

Once we had all finished eating, I stood up to collect the dishes for washing and putting away. However, Senjuro insisted on taking care of everything himself.

Feeling a bit defeated, I abandoned the task and decided to head to the study to grab that training book.

However, upon arrival, I was met with an unsettling sight. All the books were gone, every shelf completely empty...

As I made my way back to my room, confusion swirled within me like never before.

Upon entering, I found Kyojuro already preparing for sleep. His eyes brightened at the sight of me, and he gestured for me to join him under the covers of the futon.

Crawling in beside him, he enveloped me in his arms, pulling me close. With my head against his chest, I felt a sense of comfort wash over me.

"Kyojuro," I speak up.

"What is it, little flame?" He asks planting a kiss on the top of my head.

"What happened to all the books in the study?"

I sense a slight tension in his body at the question.

"I'm not sure, my love. Perhaps father had them moved. I'll make sure to get you some new books soon," he reassures me.

I stay silent, convinced by his explanation. What other reason could there be? Surely, Kyojuro doesn't attach much importance to old books collecting dust for years.

As I lay nestled in Kyo's arms, I feel the weight of exhaustion settling in. His breathing slows, It won't be long before sleep overtakes us both.

.

.

A week had passed, and the books still hadn't reappeared. I'd given up on getting a response out of Shinjuro. And it seemed that Senjuro wasn't even aware of their disappearance, which was even stranger.

So here I was again, under the same tree, rereading the same book for the third time.

Despite this, it was a beautiful day. The sky was bright and the air was refreshing. It would have been a shame not to enjoy it.

With Kyojuro gone early this morning for a hashira meeting, it's just me now, left to ponder my thoughts. I can't help but recall what Tengen and his wives said about keeping up with training.

Honestly, with my doting husband always around, their advice slipped my mind. But now, with some time to myself, I figure it's a good opportunity to get some practice in.

I don't have the exact combat training books I'd like, but I'll make do with what I remember from my days in the core.

Grabbing a wooden sword that Kyojuro and Senjuro sometimes use.

My target? A nearby tree. I start off slow, practicing basic strikes and focusing on my footwork. It's a few hours of intense concentration, but it feels amazing. I didn't realize how much I missed this, the feeling of swinging a sword, the rush of adrenaline with each move. It's like finding a piece of myself I forgot was missing.

My excitement fades as I notice a looming shadow, revealing Kyojuro standing there. Still in his uniform, he must have just returned from the meeting. His expression is stern, arms crossed in clear disapproval.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" His voice is cold, sending a shiver down my spine.

"I was just... training a bit," I reply nervously.

"Training? Training for what?" He begins to approach me, his demeanor serious.

For some reason, I instinctively start to back up as he approaches me. Before I know it, my back is against the tree I was just practicing on.

He closes the distance between us, his face inches from mine. This side of Kyojuro is unfamiliar to me; he appears downright angry.

"Why are you doing this, sunflower? You're inactive in the core, retired. There's absolutely no reason for you to pick up a sword and train again," his voice is harsh.

"I just thought that maybe if I stayed in shape and continued training a bit, perhaps in the future I could come out of retirement. Maybe even help train new slayers coming out of final selection," I suggest.

- Ending One (Positive fluff)

He gazes at me, his expression filled with confusion. “Sunflower, why would you want that? I thought the whole point of you wanting to retire was to be at home with me, to start a family together.”

Taking a deep breath, I realize I need to be honest and ip front with him now. Kyojuro is my husband, and if he truly loves me, he'll understand.

Slowly, I reach out and take his hand, bringing it up to rest against my chest.

“Kyojuro, I love you more than anything, and I want to start a family and be with you more than anything. But I also have to pursue the things that make me happy. Fighting alongside you and our friends has always been one of those things,” I explain, hoping he'll see my perspective.

His eyes soften, and I can tell he feels guilty for not considering my happiness more deeply.

"I'm still scared, Y/N. I'm scared of losing the love of my life, my wife. If you continue being a demon slayer, there will be times when I won't be able to protect you. Times when you'll be in situations where you'll have to fight to the death to defend yourself," he admits, his voice filled with worry.

He's right. There will be moments when I'll have to risk my life for the sake of others. But that's exactly why I signed up for this. That's what I want to do, with him by my side.

Gently, I lift his hand to my lips and place a kiss on his knuckles, mirroring the affection he always shows me.

"I'll fight until my last breath for a life without demons, so that hopefully someday us and our children can live the life we deserve," I declare softly.

He removes his hand from mine placing is on my cheek. His gaze loving and caring now.

“You never cease to set my heart ablaze little flame. You always make me remember that powerful spirit I fell in love with. I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive myself for being so selfish.”

It makes me feel better that he also acknowledges how he’s been acting lately. It makes me feel more validated that I wasn’t completely going crazy. And still I forgive him.

I know Kyojuro’s heart, I know how pure and kind it is, and I know he would never do anything to harm me or keep me alway from something I’m so passionate about.

He pulls me into his embrace wrapping his arms protectively around me.

“I want you to be happy my love, it was wrong of me to try and control someone as amazing as you. I will do everything I can to support and protect you. Wether it’s here at home, or out on the battle field.”

His words melt my heart.

He removes his hand from mine, placing it gently on my cheek. His gaze softens, filled with love and care.

"You never fail to ignite my heart, little flame. You always remind me of the powerful spirit I fell in love with. I don't know if I'll ever forgive myself for being so selfish," he confesses.

His acknowledgment of his recent behavior brings me some comfort. It validates my feelings and assures me that I'm not imagining things. And yet, I find it in my heart to forgive him.

I know Kyojuro's heart, its purity and kindness. I trust that he would never intentionally harm me or stand in the way of my passions.

Pulling me into his embrace, he wraps his arms protectively around me.

"I want nothing more than your happiness, my love. It was wrong of me to try to control someone as incredible as you. I'll do everything in my power to support and protect you, whether it's here at home or out on the battlefield," he promises.

This was the man I fell in love with, the man I vowed to spend my dying days with. I’m certain that I made the right decision.

.

.

.

- Ending Two (Angsty Smut)

He shakes his head. "No. No way. If you're going to stay retired, then you need to stay retired. That was the deal. I won't risk losing you. You're far too precious to me." His tone is softer now, but still firm.

"But why can't I just practice for a bit?"

"Because this isn't what you want. You don't actually want this. It's not your passion. This is only because of your past life." He's more serious than ever.

"What's so wrong with me wanting to stay sharp?"

"You're supposed to be focusing on your future and your new life with me! And you can't do that if you keep holding onto your past. It's not a part of who you are anymore."

His words strike me. Was it so bad that I wanted to practice and maybe eventually come back?

"This is the last thing we're going to discuss. As a Hashira, I have the authority to confiscate your weapon, so hand it over. From this point forward, I will not tolerate you engaging in anything remotely related to demon slaying."

I reluctantly hand over my wooden sword. My heart drops, and tears begin to well up in my eyes.

"Y/N. I'm sorry, my love, but this is for the best. It's only because I love you." His voice softens, his expression more forgiving.

I'm filled with anger. Why is he acting like this? Why doesn't he want to fight alongside me anymore? Balancing our relationship and our profession is tough, but plenty of people make it work.

Why does he seem to think it's impossible for me to fight? I am strong. I've always been strong.

His thumb brushes away a tear from my eye as I lift my head to look at him.

This time, his expression changes.

He leans in close to my ear and whispers, "If you won't listen to me, I'll just have to give you a reason to stay off your feet."

A shiver runs down my spine as his lips meet mine, his hands holding my hips firmly in place.

Before I know it, he's lifting me over his shoulder and carrying me back into the estate.

“Kyo, put me down! Let's just talk!” I protest, trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

He takes me to our bedroom and pins me down on the futon.

“There’s nothing more to say, sunflower. If I can't keep you from fighting anymore, maybe having a child will,” he says, his voice tinged with desire.

I open my mouth to speak, but his lips on mine cut me off. His tongue pushes its way inside, making its way around my mouth.

I try to pull away, but his hands hold my head in place, and the taste of his mouth is overwhelming.

When he finally pulls away, I'm breathless.

He leans in, kissing and biting at my neck. His hands move down my body, grabbing and squeezing my breasts and my waist.

I let out a small whimper as he sucks and bites at my skin.

Suddenly, I feel his fingers brush against my entrance through my clothes.

He pulls away to look at me. "Already so wet for me, and we've barely done anything. Were you doing all of this to make me angry on purpose?”

My face burns with embarrassment, but I can't help but crave his touch.

He grabs my hands and pins them above my head, staring into my eyes with a mischievous smile.

"You want this, don't you, sunflower?" He asks as his free hand caresses my face.

I nod desperately, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Then beg for it," he commands, his loving voice contested his actions.

"Please, Kyo, please I need it. I need you."

He releases his grip on my wrists and moves to undo his pants.

"There’s my little flame."

He lines himself up with my entrance, slowly pushing himself inside.

I try not to tense, feeling my walls stretch to accommodate him.

He lets out a low groan, his warm breath tickling my ear.

He waits for a moment before beginning to thrust into me, each movement deeper than the last.

I gasp and moan beneath him, gripping his shoulders.

He lets out a groan as he bottoms out.

"Mine," he whispers before placing a kiss on my forehead.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

He begins to move again, thrusting harder and faster. I'm filled with so much pleasure that I'm seeing stars.

I can feel myself getting closer to the edge, but just before I can finish, he stops.

"Kyo, please, I need it." I whine.

"Not yet, my love.” he replies, his voice heavy with lust.

He pulls out of me, leaving me feeling empty and unsatisfied.

He flips me over and pushes my head into the pillow, my ass now in the air.

"Don't worry, little flame, I'm not finished with you just yet."

He enters me again, gripping my hips tightly as he pounds into me from behind.

"I can't wait to have you pregnant. You're going to look so beautiful."

He reaches a hand around to rub my clit, bringing me even closer to my peak.

I try to hold back my moans and he touches me. His words only make me feel hotter.

I can feel myself getting closer once again, and he seems to notice as well.

"Do you want to finish, my love?"

"Yes, yes please," I beg.

He increases the speed of his thrusts, hitting all the right spots inside of me.

I can feel myself approaching the edge again, and he continues to push me towards it.

"I'm going to fill you up, my love. Make you mine.”

His thrusts grow more erratic as he reaches his peak, releasing deep inside of me.

I collapse onto the futon , completely exhausted.

Kyojuro rolls off me and lays beside me, pulling me into his chest. I cuddled into him.

"We're going to be so happy, Y/N. Just you, me, and our child. Everything is going to be perfect," he reassures me, running his fingers through my hair.

I'm too tired to respond, so I just listen to the sound of his heartbeat and his breathing.

"I love you, sunflower. No matter what, you're mine.”

Sorry this one took me so long to get out, I hope you all enjoyed it! I’d love to hear your feedback!

[sweet-and-sour-bites]

haii hhii ^^ tbh i'm actually surprised that there isn't any smoked cheese cookie request as of now, but if i may──can i request a smoked cheese x reader? preferably in a silly scenario where they are married (am i putting my delusional ahh here? nooooo :3)

i like to think across the new update, if by chance smoked cheese cookie has his dearest soulcheese (? is that how you say it) or any bit or remains of his dearest or a reminder of em, he would actually yap and mention em 24/7, even at the most irrelevant times he would mention his beloved :3 (golden cheese cookie in the other hand is trying her best not to make him shut up because it's about the 100th time that he already yapped about his spouse),

whether or not its a hc is completely upto you! take your time btw ^^! if you will do thos request then thank you!

Of course babes! One Smoked Cheese Cookie whos whipped coming right up.

☁️Smoked Cheese Cookie x Gn!Reader

There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Smoked Cheese Cookie loved you. As the citizens of the Golden Cheese Kingdom prepare for the oncoming battle against the beast, Smoked Cheese Cookie would not stop talking about you. From ramblings of admiration and love to worrying about your safety; you are always on his mind.

But who could blame him. You loved him just as much. Always doting on him, making sure he's okay. When he tried to overthrow Golden Cheese Cookie, while you disagreed with what he was doing, you didn't leave his side. You stood by him, loyal to the end.

He loves you dearly, and he shows you as much as he can. He makes you meals as often as he can. He holds you close and as tightly as possible. He even wrote you a song and a bunch of poems. It's clear to everyone that he loves you.

However, others can only take so much of his voice shouting your praise for so long. *Sigh* "Smoked Cheese Cookie, please rest your tongue for a minute. (Y/n) Cookie is safe back home. You needn't go on a spiral of worry."

The cookie looks at his majesty and sighs as well. "Apologies your radiance. I just need to know that they are okay." The queen nods but doesn't say anything else. Smoked Cheese Cookie walks away from the tent and stands at the edge of a cliff, surveying the land. He reaches for a pendant around his neck and opens the locket. Inside is a picture of you and him on your wedding day.

Adorned with gold and flowers, your smile shines brighter than anything else around. He holds you close and smiles at you, nothing but love in his eyes. With a content smile, he breathes out and closes the locket. Looking up and over the land, he feels his resolve grow ever stronger, all so he can win this fight and return to you, his beloved.

Walking away, he heads to his tent. Entering, he stops in surprise at the sight of a cheese bird resting on his bed with a note tied to his leg. Walking over, he takes the letter and reads it.

"Dear Smoked Cheese Cookie, it's been some time since we've been together. I miss you dearly, my love. I long to hold you and hear your voice. I hope the day you return to me comes soon. I hope you and the others fair well against the beast and return safely. Until then, though, these letters must suffice. I won't take up any more of your time, but I do hope you write back. From your love, (Y/n) Cookie."

Smoked Cheese Cookie smiles as he reads the letter. He's glad to know you are okay and he is happy to know you miss him too. He makes his way to his desk and pulls out the supplies he needs to write you a letter back. He'll tell you his thoughts and his feelings and how he wishes to be in your arms as well.

To be with you and love every part of you.

[liliewrites]

Wouldn't mind requests she says.. hm then how about a soft smut for arlecchino ? I do love the way you wrote her and I'm a sucker for her being so in love with her s/o lol. Perhaps she saw you play with the children or help them with something and was overcome with the affection

Other than that I did mean to ask, are you excited for Wuthering Waves ? Some of these characters are kinda... 😳😳😳 Yinlin especially frfr

Oh and do you accept emoji anons ? Might be a bit easier lol, if you do could I have 🔥 ?

Have a lovely day :)

OMGGG HIII MY FIRST EMOJI ANON? HIIII 🔥 ANONN!!!:OO anyway, regarding WuWa, i have seen stuff about it but not really much updated about it since i've been busy but i do know that it's coming out tomorrow? iirc. but yea fear not for i WILL be playing it, BUT YEAAA yinlin omg and baizhi?? ughajshd who knows i might write about them too.. anyw enjoy anon!!!

-warning/s : NSFW, cunnilingus (r! receiving), tooth rotting fluff, super soft arlecchino, not proofread.

(men and minor dni utc!)

imo.. arlecchino is a person who genuinely loves and cares but prefers not to show emotion especially due to her profession and background (childhood too). she does not like being vulnerable at all and has trust issues with everyone, even the kids as they r still capable of betrayal, but she trusts you 100% with her vulnerability and what she sees as her "weaknesses" which is why she is more showy of her love and care towards you, hence why she is a lovesick fool for her s/o in my eyes hwjasdh sorry for yapping anyw here's ur fic that was supposed to be just a thirst.. haha.. this was also rushed and not proof-read so sorry for d mistakes.. HAHAHA (will elaborate about this behavior of hers in future fics..)

"f-father, may i have a moment?"

small hands tug on the harbinger's coat, and her deadpan eyes meet with those that belonged to a nervous toddler-- one of her children, to be specific. "what is it, my child?" she asked, tone devoid of any feeling, making it hard to guess what she was thinking, much to the child's anxiety of getting scolded by her.

"a-a.. a bouquet for you, father!"

frail little hands open up in front of her, a messy bundle of assorted wild flowers tied together with a sloppy ribbon had been presented to the knave. with a hum, the harbinger accepts the bouquet from the toddler's hands, gives her a pat on the head and the little darling scurries off.

her eyes follow the direction of where the child was headed to, the harbinger's curiosity was piqued and she wanted to know what had motivated the child to bring her flowers out of nowhere without any special occasion.

-- but as soon as she sees as to who the child runs to, she immediately has a clear answer to her question. of course, it was you, it was you who encouraged the child to give her flowers. with silent steps, she approached the slightly ajar of the bedroom's door, leaning on the wall next to it to hear your conversations with the child.

"ah, little love, have you given your father the bouquet you made?"

"y-yes mother! she even gave me a headpat.."

"hmm, now you see, my love? father is not scary at all, father can be strict with you, but it is only out of concern.. sharing is caring, little love, i am sure she'll appreciate a few flowers from time to time. now settle down, it is time for bed."

arlecchino stared at the "bouquet" in her hands, suddenly, it had more meaning to her than just a bunch of wild flowers. it was evidence of the child learning to give, and of course you were the one who taught them that. it was evidence of the child learning that they could be safe around her despite her outward appearance, and of course you were the one who assured them that. she was scary to most children, yes, for she had nurtured and raised them under the guise of a strict and unfeeling father just so she could raise them with proper discipline. although recently, even the younger kids, they have started to treat her more.. genuinely. ah, it must have been your doing. you must have been convincing them behind the scenes. she should hate you, for coaxing the kids in indulging with personal emotions that could cause them to have flaws as they grow up, but she doesn't. instead, she is thankful, because you've treated the kids with such gentleness and unconditional love-- she is thankful that you've treated her the same.

"oh! my beloved, have.. you been standing there all this time?"

a surprised gasp brings her back to her senses, the sound of the door closing behind her lover's back echoed through the hallway of the orphanage. "no, darling. i was simply checking up on you and the children, are they asleep?" arlecchino asks, choosing not to reveal to her wife that she had found out about your recent teachings. "yes, all tucked and away to dreamland." you smiled at her, walking up to her and pulling her in for a hug. the knave was not one for affection, that was made clear, but after a busy day- she cannot help but miss you too. "let's go to bed, my love. i wish to cradle you by my side tonight." you whisper to her ear, and arlecchino silently nods, her hand on your lower back.

as soon as you return to your bedroom with arlecchino, dressed in bed time clothes, the harbiner seemed to have other plans however as she immediately starts to pepper you with slow, soft and sensual kisses.

"my love, ah- you're.. strangely affectionate today, not that i don't like it, is there something on your mind?" you ask with that same gentle tone of yours, the same tone that reduces her to a lovesick fool whenever it's just you two, that lets her put down the wall she's built to let you in and show you what's inside her mind.

"nothing, my beloved.." she whispers, looking at you with adoration. it makes your heart skip a beat to see her like this. she leans in to kiss your forehead, a silent thank you for taking care of the kids.

".. i just simply wish to express my feelings. isn't that what you teach within this household?"

she adds, which confuses you a little. you were unsure about what she exactly meant, but you let her regardless. "okay, my beloved. express your feelings then." you mumbled with a silly smile, finding arlecchino's actions a bit adorable- quite similar to the children, even. arlecchino nods, a look of determination paints her face for a moment, then she leans in to kiss your cheek.

a silent thank you for loving her and seeing through her harsh demeanor. you can't help but feel flustered, feeling like a teenage girl and her first love.

she then moves on to kiss your neck in a ticklish manner, making you giggle, and it was music to her ears.

a silent thank you for introducing genuine warmth to the house of hearth. thanks to you, the orphanage burned with compassion and not with competitiveness. "beloved, aha- s-stop it!" you squirm with a chuckle, and arlecchino's face may not show it, but her heart is leaping at the sight of your gorgeous smile.

a kiss to your chest, making you gasp as her lips landed on your nipples. her tongue swirling gently around it, making you feel a subtle warmth from the intimacy of the moment.

a silent thank you for being a source of healing to her. before you, the word "mother" had brought chills up her spine, and she resented the word fiercely but after you? you had shown her what a real mother was like, and it's one of the many qualities you hold that she absolutely adores about you.

"mhm.. my beloved, is it gratitude that you wish to express?"

you asked, followed by a quiet moan as she releases your chest from her mouth with a pop. she was in awe of you, that you were able to read her mind without having to tell you. ".. yes, my beloved. how did you know?" she curiously asked, and you couldn't help but let out another chuckle. oh, this side of arlecchino was endearing, to see her openly express her thoughts. "you like to show your gratitude towards me in the form of kisses, arlecchino." you answered, bringing your hand to her head to pull her closer, then leaning in to kiss her forehead as well. "- but this is certainly the most intimate way you've shown it." you added, and she definitely felt a bit flustered. either way, arlecchino does not say a word, and chooses to continue expressing her emotions through actions.

her kisses go lower, and lower, and the sensitivity that you feel from increases.

silence rings throughout the room, except for your moans off the walls. her gratitude and devotion to you was as clear as day. her hands gently held you down by the hips as she pulled down your panties with her teeth. it was fucking hot, to see her hold you completely still with her strength alone-- and the eye contact that she kept as she stripped your pussy bare.

"my beloved, do i have permission?"

"of course, my love."

arlecchino knows that asking consent, despite it being already established beforehand, was a major turn on for you. she started by light kitten licks to your clit, making you gasp with each time her tongue made contact with the sensitive bud. the quick and light flicks were a tease, and made you tremble in anticipation.

"the mother of my children, what a pretty pussy you have.."

she mumbles in pure adoration, her breath lightly grazing against your exposed slit. you couldn't help but let out a shaky gasp of her name, "a-arlecchino.. please, do something.." you begged. "patience, my beloved." she answers, but dives right in between your legs to give your slit one, long, lick. it drove you crazy, but it felt so good. she slid her hands under your knees, bringing you closer to her, before holding onto your thighs to keep you spread apart.

"mm, you taste so splendid on my tongue, beloved.."

she moans, before finally indulging both you and her with the pleasure of her tongue roaming, exploring and pleasing your pussy. you started to squirm with the increasing intensity of her licks, and soon she was eating you out like a starved madman. thank god for strong hands, as you could barely keep yourself still, if it weren't for her holding you down you would have kept lifting yourself off the bed.

"a-arlecchino- arle-!"

you cried out her name, as her tounge darted inside you. you were close. so close. arlecchino however, was currently drunk on your moans and the taste of your slick, too busy savoring the raw taste of you, her lover. she hadn't noticed the way your cries were getting louder, or how tighter your grip on her head was becoming-- so she was surprised when you suddenly closed your thighs around her head, a bit of your fluids landing on her lips and tongue, accompanied with a loud cry of her name. she spread your legs apart once more and kept it open through the whole duration of your orgasm, wanting to see how your pussy throbbed and dripped, wanting to admire how pretty you were when you came undone because of her actions.

after you've settled down, she immediately joins you for a cuddle, she was not finished for the night- no, but she'd grant you a short moment of respite. she lays her head on your chest, closing her eyes as she listens to your heartbeat. "my love, i am still surprised how you've managed to notice my way of showing gratitude when i haven't realized it myself.", she mentions. you smiled at that, and looked at her. "to be known is to be loved. i love you, peruere."

she opens her mouth to speak, wanting to further inquire what you meant by that, but closes her mouth as she realizes what you meant once you call her peruere, the name that she hid away as it represents her past, her most fragile self, that only you've come to know instead of arlecchino, the name that spreads far and wide, which strikes fear and conquers respect from the hearts of many.

she nods in agreement, wrapping her arm around you tighter. her heart swelling from the feeling of loving and being loved, of knowing and being known. to be recognized. to be appreciated.

"i agree, my beloved. i am thankful that you've come to know me as who i really am, and stayed to love me despite what i've come to be. i love you too."

[stitchau]

————————《《FAQ》》————————

This post will be updated over time.

Main artist account: @centfornothing (both tumblr, twitter and soon bluesky)

Currently, i am very busy with university, and I'm not gonna be free any time soon...(except holidays, obviously) BUT I am really trying to put at least SOME time into what I've created here, so there's that. (Hopefully I'll survive all that)

— Usage of Stitch/Fanart

1. Q: Can I create fanart of Stitch?

A: Yes, I'd be more than happy if you do! ^^

Also, do not be shy to tag me! I will, from time to time, check if i was tagged somewhere.

2. Q: Can I use your character in my comic/animation/fanfiction?

A: Yep! I don't see why not.

3. Q: Can I ship *insert character name here* with Stitch?

A: Sure, have fun! But I sure do hope that the character in question is not a child. I am strongly against it.

4. Q: Can I create NSFW🔞 content of Stitch?

A: Yes, unless it involves children/incest. Do not draw stuff like that.

5. Q: Can I voice act your comics?

A: Any day!! Just don't forget to put credits, everything else is up to you! ^^

— NOT ALLOWED

I'm being repetitive here, but whatever. These are the only things I don't want people to do with my character, and I hope you understand why.

DO NOT create content depicting Stitch engaging with children in sexual manner.

DO NOT create content depicting Stitch endorsing incest/racism/f*scism/n*zism or anything similar to that.

As advice, I'd kindly ask you not to create stuff like this at all. Please be a better person and be responsible with what you create and put out there on the internet.

— About asks/questions

Questions that I have already answered won't get a reply.

Not all the questions will get their answers. Either because it's not the time for the answer yet or because it's irrelevant/not a question at all.

If there's too many questions, yours might be missed/might get a late reply(currently i have 70+ questions, no joke, and i just cant answer all of them, especially when there's more of them every day). But don't be shy asking questions anyway!

Other reasons for your questions not getting an answer:

I might be busy because I also have to live a life.

If your question is something like "I love your au sm," then thank you. I really appreciate your kind words, you are making my day💞

I might not want to answer your question for reasons. (Provocative questions, personal questions, etc)

If you are asking something related to YOUR OWN mental health. Please, PLEASE, if you have real problems, do not try to find a solution for them from internet strangers, go and talk to a real, qualified professional.

Please do not vent to me, I am not qualified to offer you help. I wish you the best, please stay safe.

And just a separate point about roleplays. Sorry, but I don't really do them. I can play along to something unserious and small, but whole roleplays are not for me.

— About Stitch

Stitch uses any pronouns, but they/them is a preferred one.

They are aroace.

The place they live in is called "Treatment space"(the info on what it is will be elaborated on sometime later). It is accessible for anyone in Omega Timeline at any given point through a door. But it can also be accessed from anywhere if you have one of 2 special keys: small red key that will create a door for 1 person leading to the Treatment Space or the bigger dark red key that will create a much bigger door, also leading to the Treatment Space(backyard). Keys can be mostly found in Omega Timeline, but some are scattered throughout the Multiverse.

They mimic the voice according to the form they have at the moment. So Sans' voice for a form of Sans, etc.

For all the different parts of plush bodies and clothes, there is a separate big room in Treatment Space.

Stitch doesn't need to sleep, eat, or drink.

Their most preferred forms are Toriel(convenience) and Sans(frequency of use).

The forms they don't like to use the most are the ones that are small(like Temmie, annoying dog, Flowey, etc.)

— The Lore(WIP)

Prologue

Chapter 1: Lucky streak — part 1

— Stitch's forms

I have some forms drawn separately, and some that I drew with some other sketches. I MIGHT be a bit too lazy to draw every from individually for now, so here's what I have:

Papyrus

Muffet

Mettaton

Alphys

Gaster

Monster kid (MK)

Grillby

Frisk and Chara(want to change them)

Toriel(if you can't tell, I like this one a lot)

Asgore, Flowey, Sans, Undyne, some stuff

More info will be added later

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

Drunk reader meets rafe while he’s talking to his friends. Your drunken status leaves you falling asleep on his lap with him taking you back to his house so your safe

but you came right on time

pairing(s): rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol consumption

summary: after having one too many drinks, you find yourself talking to outerbanks’ golden boy.

authors note: guys i’m so sorry for not updating but with school starting last week, i’m literally dying rn. i changed it up just a tad :) thank you for the request though and i really hope you enjoy!

not edited

do not copy my works. i do not condone rewrites, translations, or edited versions. all my content is my content that i wrote.

not my gif

you were currently sat on the couch with a cup of cheap beer in your hand, waiting on your friend to return from wherever she’d gone. she was your ride after all.

“dude, shes smokin’ hot,” you heard a boy say from your right. you then saw him point to a girl across the room. he was standing with a green beer bottle in hand while talking to another guy sat right next to you.

the boy next to you was very pretty. he also looked very troubled.

“are you okay?” you drunkenly asked, trying to provide him some sort of comfort.

his blank expression immediately morphed into one your couldn’t quite make out when he looked towards you. “what?”

you had thought it was a pretty straightforward question. “are you okay?” you repeated a little louder this time incase he couldn’t hear over the music.

he looked almost confused. “yes? why do you ask?”

you opted for a simple shrug before you took another sip of your drink. “you look upset,” you replied. “jus’ wanted to see if you were alright.” then you held out a hand in front of you. “y/n.”

he hesitantly took it. “rafe.”

“cool name,” you slurred out. once your hands were freed from one another, you leaned over and rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled into his side in desperate need of a nap.

you closed your eyes and allowed yourself to slowly find sleep.

rafe hadn’t even noticed, still engaged in a conversation with topper and kelce. but when he did, he couldn’t help but feel the urge to protect you in your vulnerable state. he gently grabbed the cup from your hand and placed it on the table along with his own. “i think ‘m gonna get going,” he alerted the other two.

“so soon?” kelce asked. “it’s just getting started.”

topper chuckled and hit the boys chest. “you gonna take her to your place or somethin’?”

“what else am i supposed to do? leave her here?” he asked with a quirked brow.

the blonde smirked. “i’m sure any other guy here would gladly take her home.”

“you’re disgusting, top,” kelce grimaced.

rafe simply rolled his eyes, not wanting to engage in a conversation with the idiot he called his best friend. he slowly stood up while making sure you wouldn’t fall over. once he was up on his feet, he lightly tapped your shoulder. “hey.”

you grumbled and stirred slightly. “what?”

“c’mon. ‘m gonna take you to my place, okay? i need you to follow me though,” he said softly, grabbing your hands and gently pulling you up on your feet. you drunkenly stumbled into his chest before finally gaining balance. “ready?” he asked as he snaked a hand around your waist for stability.

you nodded and leaned into him a little closer as you walked towards his car. once you arrived without falling over, he opened the passenger door and helped you get in and buckle up before shutting it and doing the same for himself.

fortunately, the ride to the cameron residence was short.

and to make things even better, his parents weren’t home. nor were his sisters.

with his assistance, you two had successfully made it up the stairs and into his bedroom.

“here,” he said, handing her an unopened bottle of water on his bedside table he’d placed there before he left earlier in the day. “take a seat and drink it.”

you groaned, closing your eyes as you sat down. “i don’t like water.”

his brow raised in confusion. “you don’t like water?”

you immediately shook your head slowly to avoid worsening your headache. “no. too bland.”

he couldn’t help but chuckle. “well, i need you to drink a little bit then you can head to bed.” he began to rummage through his drawers before dropping something onto the mattress next to her. “here. change into these. if you need anything, i’m gonna go get some ibuprofen from the kitchen.”

you nodded lazily and waited until he closed the door behind himself to change into the clothes.

when he returned, he knocked softly and asked a soft, “can i come in?” when he got no answer, he slowly opened the door to find you knocked out already. you were dressed in his hoodie and sweats that absolutely swallowed you. he glanced over at the water bottle as he headed to the closet, noticing you’d taken a few sips. he pulled out a soft blanket from inside and draped it over you in hopes of making you as comfortable as possible.

the thought of you not being here with him right now and having someone else take you home to do only god knows what to you was making his blood boil. it didn’t matter though. after all, you were here with him.

he grabbed out another blanket from the college and a pillow, making his bed for the night on the floor. if this were anyone else he was sleeping on the ground for, he’d be pissed. but knowing you were here and protected by him somehow just made him feel a whole lot better.

[thatdeadaquarius]

Soon.

☆

With a puzzled squint, you could see the adeptus was running over what you said in his mind, trying to parse out the meaning. Xiao then threw his head up out of his slight bow, almost glaring at you, “There is no task nor person more important than guarding you, my Lord. I will stand guard, worry not about my state.”

Nodding to you, he abruptly turned on his heel to shift to the side of the entrance to the mansion, his spear tall and ready. You’d have twitched a smile at him if you could, as you're sure he’s gotten a little more comfortable with you than when you first officially met. You’re also sure from meeting Zhongli just once in person that he’d have a small heart attack if he saw some of Xiao’s informal behavior.

But you’re glad he hasn’t, the more relaxed they are, especially considering your form, the better.

You duck inside, though the ceilings are so raised that you don’t have to go that low surprisingly. Huh, it was nice to be anticipated in a building usually sized for human heights. Wow. You’ve really reached the point of casually calling yourself inhuman.

…well, to be real with yourself right now, it might actually help to get more accustomed to that in case you’re never human again.

You also put that possibility back into the vault at the back of your mind.

☆

HEY I live, again,

I had a big life update what with my sib graduating grad school (getting their masters degree) at the same time we both moved like 2 states over from our home state 😅

and unfortunately, i wasnt able to get my monster of a sequel out in time to post it remotely to get it out to you guys while i was afk

(as i havent had wifi/free time consistently in like 2-3 weeks)

which, phew, im finally able to be settled in one place enough to write again, and have enough time in the day to not be dealing wiht my apartment to write ToT

i hope you guys arent too mad at me! (or have forgotten me?? sobs)

also.

i hear Natlan's coming out. 👀

I don't think it'll be out before i post the full (3 chapters total planned) sequel, but just in case, disclaimer-

🪄I am not to be held liable for not writing about Natlan bc it wasnt out yet woooo🪄

anyway, yeah its also taking a bit bc i wanna post the completed thing all in one go, over the course of like 3 days or so, that way u guys can actually look forward to the next little chapter in a reasonable amount of time lmao

well yknow, if anyones still reading this or my blog lol

happy summer you guys! I hope u all are having a good one so far, esp those of you in school, heart going out to yall fr <33

Catch you on the flip side (ao3 side?)✌️

Safe Travels,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

@karmascreeches / @yomilyy / @0rah-s / @idontknowwhatimdoingbutweball / @blackstar-gazer / @voidsgarden / @a-gay-piece-of-paper / @oxyotl / @thefirstonetoeverlikemeback / @kurayamioterasu / @randompersoninyourworld / @byakuren100 / @lemonade7255

[miloformula123fan]

Could you do fic for Fernando Alonso with wife reader where he's got into crash and she's worried because she thinks he'll never got the chance to know that she's pregnant? Add something you'd like. Thanks :))

ahahah, i know i just said that i was gonna halt updates, but then i churned this out kinda quick haha :)

it is kind of short though so apologies :)

if you want to participate in my 100 followers event, look here :)

(hint hint: this closes on Thursday 1st March 0:00 GMT, so if you want to make a request do so soon because this is in a little more than a week when publishing this :))

Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.

also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better

and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)

fernando alonso x wife!reader

“Be safe, please, mi amor.” he held Fernando in her arms as he paused getting ready to turn around and look at her.

“I am always Carina… Podium on the cards for today haha” He smiled

“Ha, got a surprise for you after the race…if you get a podium today of course.” She looked down, smiling, thinking of the surprise she had planned.

“A nice surprise I hope carina…” He winked and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the implications of his flirty statement, and the blushes of the mechanics who had heard their conversation.

“Not that kind of surprise, but I think you’ll be happy nonetheless…” She smiled knowingly as he looked slightly puzzled before the activity seemed to pick up and was aware he needed to start getting ready.

“As long as you are feeling better than you were this morning I will always be happy.” He smiled and kissed her on the forehead.

She gave him his traditional pre race good luck kiss and then his helmet was on his head and he was in the car.

Y/N snuck into Nando’s room, being let in by his trainer Alex. She placed the box on his massage table. It was a pretty simple box, all that was inside was a sonogram, a baby onesie and the positive pregnancy test that was gonna change their lives. 

She’d been feeling sick for a couple of weeks now, and when she’d missed her period she’s had a hunch as to what it could be, but it wasn’t until she had bailed on a triple header because she hadn’t been feeling well, that she’d had time to take the test, freak out about how positive it was.

(she’d called Mark in a panic, and then he’d added Jenson to the call in his panic and then they’d just had Mark, Seb and Jenson on a call freaking out, not helping her to calm down in the slightest, but making her laugh. Eventually Hanna had tried to work out what the fuck was going on with her husband, and had provided some actually useful advice)

Following Hanna’s advice, she’d gone to the doctors and gotten the ultrasound photo. She’d sent Hanna and Lance a photo of the ultrasound, to thank Hanna for her help in the boys panic call, and to let Lance know that he would be the godfather (she thought Nando would like that) but not to tell Nando, as she hadn’t told him yet, but she needed to tell someone. The doctor had confirmed that everything was going okay and that she was about 10 weeks along. Y/N had immediately spotted the onesie online and ordered it, preparing to tell Nando whenever she saw him. The onesie arrived fairly quickly, however, trying to keep the onesie, the test and the sonogram hidden from him for the week that he was home before the Spanish grand prix. She wanted him to know immediately because they’d been trying for so long and so many fails that it was a fucking miracle right now.

Their miracle. Their miracle baby.

Finally the week had arrived and she’d hidden the box with Nando’s personal trainer, who handed it to her after she’d given her good luck wishes to him and he’d sat in the car. She made sure to make it back for the start of the race, so as to not raise any suspicion. And then it was lights out and away they went.

The race had been going well for Fernando. Actually better than well. He was in P2, not even a second behind Perez. It had been helpful that Max had had his first mechanical failure in like 5 years, taking him out of the lead, and promoting everyone up a place. And now Fernando was contending for the lead. Y/N was so excited for him, she couldn’t wait to see him on the top step of the podium and then tell him the awesome news.

Of course then it all went horribly wrong.

Crofty’s voice filled her ears, “AND THAT’S FERNANDO ALONSO GOING FOR THE LEAD OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX GOING FOR HIS 33RD WIN GOING AROUND THE OUTSIDE OF SERGIO PEREZ AND THEY TOUCH AND THAT’S BOTH OF THEM GOING INTO THE BARRIERS AND OUT OF THE RACE WHICH PROMOTES LANDO NORRIS INTO THE LEAD OF THE SPANISH GRAND PRIX AND THAT’S A BIG CRASH. FERNANDO IS WEDGED BETWEEN PEREZ AND THE BARRIERS, AND HIS CHASSIS LOOKS CRUSHED and we are really hoping that he is okay there.”

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

No response.

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

Y/N could feel her legs getting weak, and could tell that the people around her were holding her up. She remembers being introduced to Shakira at the start of grand prix, and she complimented her nails. She could feel the nails digging into her left arm, which meant that Shakira was holding her up right now, and if Fernando's life wasn’t at threat, she might be fangirling right now. Still no response.

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

No response. Their miracle wasn’t going to meet their dad

“Fernando, Fernando do you copy?”

fuck.

“And while i’m not entirely sure why Fernando wasn’t responding on the radio just then, but I can now tell you that he is walking out of the crash and he seems all okay.”

Y/N breathed a sigh of relief and tried standing up while letting out wet sobs. She knew she was probably on TV right now, looking a mess, being held up by Shakira and crying when her husband was all okay, but that didn’t matter.

Because Fernando was okay.

She followed his progress on the TV as the team moved the focus to Lance and potentially getting him a win. But she tracked him until he was back in the garage and back safe in her arms. Whispering his reassurances to her.

This was also being broadcast, but she didn’t care. 

He was safe and he was in her arms.

Y/N followed Fernando into his driver's room, entirely forgetting about the surprise that she had left in his room until they came in and she saw the box sitting on the massage table. 

Fernando turned around to her in confusion, “Did you leave this here Carina?”

“Uhh, yeah but it’s nothing, it was supposed to be a surprise for when you got your podium, so look at it later maybe…”

Within 2 strides Fernando was at the box and lifting off the lid. There goes the plan of telling him when he was in a good mood.

Fernando pulled out the onesie, black with a message of ‘daddy’s little race engineer’. Maybe Y/N’s hormones were hitting hard today because the sight of Nando holding a baby onesie was enough to bring her to tears, imagining Nando holding their baby.

“What is this carina?”

“It’s ummm, the surprise I mentioned before…I wanted you to see it when you got your podium, so you can ignore it I guess…”

“No, no, I mean, why is there a sonogram, baby onesie and pregnancy test in here? Is Lance having a baby and wanting to let me know I was the godfather?”

“No, no, mi sol, it’s ours.”

“Ours?”

“Our baby.”

Y/N watched as Fernando processed the words. And then all of a sudden she was being picked up and spun around in a hug as Fernando cried at her.

“Our baby…oh Carina…our baby! I’m so happy right now.”

He was practically yelling, so a few team members came to see what was going on. And then walked in on a happy couple, sobbing to each other as they curled up on the floor. A baby onesie in one’s hands, and the sonogram in the other.

And all of a sudden the media could wait.

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @janeholt3