#will update as soon as I am for sure safe

[ekingston]

Hello! So sorry to bother, but have you had any updates on the Word-Stream/Speechify situation?

Just one: like I posted on Xitter and Bluesky last night, as of yesterday afternoon, the links to individual works as they were listed on WordStream are gone from both Google and Bing. Hurray, right? Surely we’re all sick of this whole debacle and there’s far more important things to worry about. If all is well that ends well, surely there’s no need to still be angry.

Well, I am. Here’s why:

When I checked on Wednesday, the links to my own work on WordStream were still listed. So rather than it taking a week after Cliff Weitzman first hid the fanwork from view, it took a little over a week from the moment he first promised privately that they would be deleted. Which, fine. Perhaps Cliff didn’t really know what he was talking about when he gave that timeframe. Or maybe he told a little white lie to create the impression that he always intended to do the right thing. It seems more likely to me, though, that Cliff still believed—even after the backlash he received—that he would get away with honoring only individual takedown requests. Or worse, that he needed just a little bit more time with the stolen material to figure out an alternative way to profit off it—preferably without us noticing, this time.

But who knows? I certainly don’t! All we can do is speculate, because publicly, Cliff Weitzman has remained completely silent on his copyright infringements. All we got was the initial justifications he and his sockpuppet accounts used in comments on the original Reddit and Tumblr posts. After those were so understandably ill-received, Cliff only ever communicated with a few individual authors who contacted him directly and repeatedly, blocking people who addressed the issue on Twitter and quietly distancing himself from WordStream by deleting a blog he’d posted to Speechify.com dated December 20th—where Cliff promoted WordStream’s platform specifically to fanfiction readers. (See my enormous timeline post for details and screenshots of said posts before they were taken down.)

And this is why I’m still angry: As long as Cliff Weitzman faces no real consequences for his actions, he won’t see a need to own up to his mistake; and as long as he’s able to delay taking responsibility, this isn’t over. This didn’t end well.

After all, wasn’t this the next-best scenario for Cliff, second only to him turning WordStream into a (for him) effortless, infinite money-making machine? He took something we provided for free and fed it to AI so he could more easily put it behind a paywall; we found out and protested; Cliff quietly erased all evidence of his crime; and we went—almost equally quietly—away.

I want to make sure you know that I continue to be genuinely amazed and intensely grateful for how quickly the news about WordStream’s copyright infringement was shared—and continues to be shared—throughout fandom, on tumblr in particular. If it hadn’t been for our collective outcry here and on Reddit, WordStream would very likely still be up in its original form, and Weitzman would be reaping the benefits (those subscription prices were steep) today.

But it’s been frustrating to see that, with the exception of mentions in articles on Substack and Fansplaining (the latter of which is a particularly awesome and thorough read on fandom’s decontextualization) and a Fanlore listing, our outrage never really spilled out beyond the safely insulated, out-of-the-way spaces that are tumblr, a handful of subreddits and bluesky. And I believe that—unfortunately—we are collectively responsible for that part, as well.

Most of us seemed content to only spread the word by circulating the same two posts on tumblr. (Have we all given up completely on every other social media platform? Am I the only remaining straggler?) And soon after Cliff Weitzman hid WordStream’s fanfiction category from view, our interest in the issue took a sharp dive even there. Are we genuinely deceived into believing the issue has been fully resolved? Do we truly fail to realize that Weitzman’s refusal to admit that what he did was wrong left the door wide open for the next greed-driven tech bro to wander through? Or is the true naivety in thinking that, as a community, we can keep this kind of attack on fandom from happening again? Has our disillusionment already gotten that bad?

However the situation spins out from here, Cliff’s actions will set a precedent. If we fail to show Cliff and his ilk that attempts to profit off fandom’s unpaid labor have consequences, their tech companies will keep trying until something eventually sticks. They might be a little smarter about it next time; obscure their sources a bit better, maybe leave the titles and the authors’ names off. Or maybe they’ll go a bolder route: maybe next time they cross the line they’ll do it boldly enough for IP holders to take notice and stop tolerating fanwork entirely.

Doesn’t that make you angry, too?

There’s this whole other mess of thoughts I would love to be able to untangle about how commercial influence is contributing to the steady erosion of fandom’s foundations, but I’m tired, and other people have said it all much more eloquently than I ever could. Seriously, go read that article on Fansplaining. Or listen to the podcast version of it. Better yet, as long as you’re wearing your noise-canceling headphones, go listen to a podfic of one of your favorite fandoms’ works, and enjoy the collaborative joy and creativity of the people who Cliff Weitzman refuses to believe exist. (In one of Speechify’s other blogs, Cliff claims there are only 272 podfics on AO3. Would you like to run that ChatGPT prompt again, Cliff?). Honestly, much like Cliff Weitzman’s infuriating denial of the fact that fandom fucking has this covered, thank you very much, there’s so. Many. More. Things for us to talk about. There’s the connotations of WordStream’s dubious ‘upload’ button, for instance, or the fact that the app scraped (and in some cases, allegedly, still lists) copyright-protected original fiction as well, or WordStream’s complete lack of contact information, which is illegal for an internationally operating app. And oh! Has anyone reported more thoroughly on Cliff’s app’s options to ‘simplify’ or ‘modernize’ uploaded works, or—my own very favorite abomination—to translate them into something Cliff calls ‘Gen-Z Language’? Much like his atrocious AI book covers, it would be hilarious, if it didn’t make steam come out of my ears.

Anyway, there it is. I highly recommend you do all of that. And then, if you aren’t familiar with it already, go do some research re: fair use and your rights as the copyright owner of your works. A good number of people commenting on this controversy expressed stunned surprise or fearful hesitation about claiming any sort of ownership of their fanfiction. The more informed we are about our rights, the more willing we will be to defend them.

Please don’t stop writing or sharing your work. If you can’t bring yourself to work on your WIPs today (trust me, I get it), post about this situation instead. Tweets, skeets, whateverthefucks—about WordStream’s theft, about how this reflects on Speechify’s already shady business practices, about how Cliff’s actions and justifications have personally affected you. You’re welcome to share or copy my posts on these platforms, but since Cliff already blocked me, I very much prefer you post your own. If you do, call Cliff Weitzman by his full name and tag or include both WordStream and Speechify to ensure Weitzman will recognize he has both a personal as well as a professional stake in handling the situation with integrity. Leave your concerns in reviews on the Speechify app. (We weren’t provided with a more appropriate place to put them, after all!) Consider calling for a Speechify boycott until Cliff accepts accountability for his actions.

Do avoid making exaggerated claims, and don’t call for physical retaliation against Cliff’s person or his property. We don’t want to give him or Speechify even the weakest of grounds to claim defamation or threats of violence. Focus on the facts: they’re incriminating enough by themselves. Show Cliff that we’re determined to keep bringing up his company’s wrongdoings in public spaces until he demonstrates that he understands why taking these freely shared fanworks and monetizing them was wrong, and takes steps to ensure it won’t happen again.

One last thing—and this is really more of a general reminder—please stop suggesting I handle this situation for you. People have come to me asking for action items. The resulting flashbacks to my days as an office assistant were extremely upsetting. In all seriousness, casting me as some sort of coordinator or driving force behind this backlash actively hurts the cause. Not only does it downplay fandom’s collective efforts, it also makes our message extremely vulnerable. It would be all too easy for Cliff to silence one singular source. Wikipedia will not maintain mentions of this controversy as long as it leads only to Easter Kingston’s attempt to summarize what happened as it was happening. You only know my name because I stumbled upon WordStream’s theft and decided to get my friends involved. I am not more knowledgeable, more skilled or more angrily invested in this issue than you are (or can, or should, be). I draw pictures and I write stories and I worry about the shift I’m seeing in fandom after having been on this ride for even a few pre-livejournal rounds.

I’m not going to stop doing any of those things. But I am going to allow myself to step away for a bit, make my wife dinner, and catch up on our shows.

I trust you’ve got it from here.

[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.

[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!)

follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

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.”

[the-kingshound]

2024 - a retrospective

(I am writing this in my bed instead of partying because I am not feeling so good again, and because this is honestly the place I feel most at ease to end and start the new year)

2024 was... let's say a bit better than 2023, for me, but in general pretty tiring. With constant small health problems and some issues with writing, I have not been as productive as I'd hoped. However, in my personal life some things have changed for the better (I have changed my university course, and it has helped in diminishing my constant anxiety), and I have made small but constant work on TKH.

On the topic of my IFs.

While 2024 hasn't seen any new content for The King's Hound, there has been a rewrite which was very needed for lore reasons, and which I am happy about. I have also polished the UI, and have commissioned official art for Morien. While there hasn't been an update yet, though, the work is done and you can expect it very soon.

I have also rebounded Golden Ashes (previously: From The Ashes We Rise), my regency era dragon shifter IF, with a rewrite happening behind the scenes and a new look for the blog (the demo right now remains privated).

2024 has been a year of changes. For me and for my IFs

But this is only the beginning. For 2025, I have projects. I want to release the content I have for TKH, the updated version of GA, and I want to commission more art for TKH. I also, and on this I am like 80% sure, am strongly considered making Arthur gender selectable. Details will be revealed later if/when I decide on it, but that might be another change coming.

I might be repetitive, but the community around my projects has been... unexpected, and warm, and absolutely vital for me, the last few years. I was, still am, a very anxious person that cycles through depression and while it is now a bit better, I still consider this a safe place where i can fall back on every time I need it. It's all thanks to you.

Thank you, I hope the next year will bring you peace, and wealth, and happiness.

[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

[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

[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.

[man-i-love-fanfiction]

To Share the Space with Simple Living Things - Hozier x Fem!Florist!Reader

Chapter Three: Chrysanthemums - Joy

Summary: You and Andrew meet outside of your workplace for the first time for a completely platonic coffee on him.

Word count: 2385

Author's note: i am so sorry that this took so long 😭 last week of school combined with finals combined with life i guess hindered me from writing. but i'm back on track!!! hopefully you all enjoy and if i don't update again soon happy holidays <3

tag list: @celery-grace @gayandfairycore @deathmybride @harry-bowie-mercury @hodgepodge-musings @blue-eyed-bug @secretttytttttttttt @dinner-n-dxatribes @padfootblackswh0r3 (if you want to be added just let me know!)

fic below the cut <3

This is not a date.

That was your affirmation all of Friday morning, repeating it to yourself.

You muttered it under your breath as you fixed your hair. It was mumbled as you laid out your outfit, specifically chosen to be fashionable but casual: your favorite sweater and a nice pair of jeans. You whispered it before spraying your perfume, a scent you had to dig through your closet for five minutes to find. Ironically, the scent was nothing close to floral. You said it to each of your houseplants as you watered them. They remained unconvinced.

Slipped on your shoes. Locked up your flat. Walked down the stairs. You repeated your mantra every time, because maybe if you said it enough times, it would become true.

By the time you made it to your car, you had said it so many times it felt like breathing. Your hands gripped the wheel. You locked eyes with your reflection in the rearview mirror and whispered your phrase of the morning one more time for good luck.

This. Is. Not. A. Date.

Stepping down on the gas pedal, you began to drive.

On the drive there, you prepared yourself for all possible scenarios. This kind of thinking came naturally — it always did, especially in situations like these. You ran through what your reaction would be if he showed up, what it would be if he didn't. What you would do if he had an insanely complex coffee order, or if he ordered a drink with six shots of espresso. What if he tried to order for you, or if he made some backhanded comment about another woman at the cafe? You doubted he would do any of these things, but you believed it's better to be safe than sorry. This thinking only paused when you parked in front the coffee shop and caught a glimpse of Andrew waiting inside. All of your previous repetition and fretting had made you ten minutes late, a fact you weren't fond of and hoped Andrew wouldn't chastise you for.

The moment you stepped into the coffee shop, all of your previous affirmations were thrown out the window. It wasn't a date. But after seeing Andrew you wished that it was.

It wasn't any particular factor. It wasn't the black denim jacket he was wearing, or the way he'd tied half his hair up, leaving the other half down. It wasn't even the smile on his face, reserved like he wasn't sure how to react properly when he saw you. It was a combination of everything; his presence alone was enough to make you flustered. So flustered that you were very close to forgetting to say anything when you walked up to him. Thankfully, at the last moment, you actually spoke.

“Hey! Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long,” you greeted him with a small smile.

“Oh, no. I just got here, too. You're alright.”

You walked inside together, and you looked around at your new surroundings. It was a small business, quaint and cozy, with framed photos of artworks by local artists; it was exactly what you would imagine a coffee shop that Andrew picked to be.

Because all of your overthinking (or what you preferred to call planning) on the way there, you ordered your coffee with ease. Andrew recited his order, a black americano, a surprise to you. You watched as he paid and gave his name for the order, the barista already recognizing him. He turned his head towards you and offered an explanation:“I’m a regular. I always come here whenever I need a pick-me-up.”

“I’ll have to come here more often, then,” you replied.

You found a small table in the corner and sat down to claim it for the both of you while Andrew stood by the counter, waiting for your coffee. What a gentleman.

You had yet to notice any flaws in him, only making your self-imposed rule of this not being romantic harder to follow. There had to be something about him that was off. There was no way he was so caring and endearing and funny all at the same time; he had to have an imperfection eventually. You didn't find it in the few minutes you watched him stand around, occasionally fiddling with his hands or putting them in his pockets. Your efforts grew even more futile as he walked over with the coffees in hand, setting them down on the table.

He shedded his jacket and carefully placed it on the back of the chair before sitting down in the chair opposite you. This simple action caused the fact that you barely knew Andrew to pop up in your head. Despite how connected to him you felt already, you had only met him twice before. On both occasions he wore long sleeves, so seeing him without a jacket for the first time gave you a much appreciated surprise.

His right arm had an entire sleeve of tattoos.

He had turned his arm into a mural for myths and legends. A portrait of a falling Icarus, wings disintegrating beneath a red sun. A tortured Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his back. Dante and Virgil arm in arm wandering through a circle of hell. Writing in script filled the empty space, seemingly verses from poems. It was all centered around two words placed across his bicep: Noli Timere. You’d be lying if you said it didn't make you even more attracted to him than you already were.

You could've spent hours just looking, analyzing every line of ink. It felt as though you did, though it's much more likely it was only for a few seconds. You were brought back to Earth by the sound of his voice.

“It's rude to stare, y’know?”

There was no real annoyance in his voice, but it caused you to attention like you had been caught. An explanation mumbled its way out of your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, I just- I like your arm. Tattoos. Your arm tattoos. They're…”

Beautiful? Enticing? Very attractive?

“…cool.”

You took a sip of your coffee, finding it the perfect time to cover up your embarrassment, as well as the flushed face that came along with it. Luckily, Andrew didn't notice (or if he did, he didn't mind) and continued the conversation, accepting your compliment with a crooked smile.

“Thanks. I try to put a lot of thought into them, give them some meaning, so they're all based on these stories that are important to me.”

“Makes sense. I’d hate to get a tattoo just to regret it a few years later. Even worse, a few months later.”

“Too many of my clients have had that exact issue. Come in a year after and ask for a coverup. Makes me question my work sometimes.”

“Clients?” You asked with a tilt of your head.

“Oh, right. I never mentioned it.” He paused to take a drink from his cup before continuing. “I’m a tattoo artist. The parlor I work at’s only a few blocks away from your shop, believe it or not.”

“Wow. Small world, I suppose. Maybe I could stop by someday and say hi.”

The boldness of your statement didn't fully process in your brain, and you quickly backtracked.

“If you’d be okay with that, of course.”

“Yes. Absolutely. You can come by whenever I don't have a client.”

“Call me over if anyone gets a tattoo of a flower and I’ll be there to explain everything it means. There is always the very dangerous possibility of someone getting a flower that means jealousy or a rejection.”

He didn’t reply, just flashed a smile, and the silence between you seemed… awkward. Combined with the way he was fidgeting with his hands, it almost made you think he was nervous.

“I’m actually thinking about buying a bouquet to put on the front desk,” he admitted.

“Really?”

“Yeah. A lot of people, they get nervous before their appointment, whether it's their first tattoo or their tenth. Having flowers right when you walk in might ease some of the tension.”

“That's a great idea. I know I’m biased, but flowers do tend to brighten my day."

“Do you have any ideas?”

You bit at your bottom lip as you thought, finally speaking again once you racked your brain for what could work.

“Chrysanthemums are a favorite with customers. Those mean joy and optimism. I could start with those and build from there.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“That's all I’ve got right now, but I’ll see what else I can come up with later. After coffee, I’m much more… insightful.”

As if to prove your point, you took another sip of your coffee, a longer one that left only a quarter of the cup left.

“So… this is official? You're placing an order?”

He nodded.

“If that's how this works, then yes. I’d like to place an order of one chrysanthemum bouquet for the purpose of making my customers happy. Please,” he replied genuinely.

“Your order will be marked down as soon as I get to the shop.”

“Feel free to take your time, by the way. I don't mean to pressure you. It's not like I have a deadline, and I know you probably have a million other things you have to do.”

You considered reaching for him, your fingertips flexing in his direction, but you restrained yourself, choosing words instead.

“You're not pressuring me at all. You made your order. Now you're asking me to do my job. My job that I love, by the way. If anything, I’m thrilled that you're so interested.”

The real question is whether you're more interested in my job or me.

You weren't bold enough to say what you were thinking, but you never had been. You had gotten so used to biting your tongue it was a miracle it was still in your mouth. You spoke again, but selected a much safer option of what to say.

“It's gonna take a few days since there's some orders before yours, but I have your number on file so I’ll call you when I finish it up.”

“I’ll be there. With my wallet, this time around.”

You thought about your proposition before realizing there would be a much more effective, though maybe you just wanted to visit Andrew’s job for a change.

“I mean, you said your place is only a few minutes away, right? I could always deliver it. Gives me an opportunity to get some fresh air during my day. Besides, you're probably much busier than I am, so it might be harder to find the time. Meanwhile, I can deliver it as soon as it's done, and everything works out.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“I know. I want to, though.”

He sighed and shook his head, a reaction you originally feared was out of annoyance, but you felt a small amount of relief when you noticed the smile that accompanied it.

“You need to stop doing nice things for me. Otherwise I’ll go bankrupt from buying you so much coffee to compensate.”

“I also accept gratitude payment in compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks.”

“What about credit cards?”

“Ooo, sorry. Compliments, thank-you-cards, and checks are your options.”

He chuckled, a deeper and richer laugh than before.

“Fine. You want a compliment? You're incredibly kind for doing all of this for me, and I sincerely appreciate it. Thank you.”

Another sip from your cup to hide the flush of your cheeks, though no amount of caffeine could calm the butterflies in your stomach.

“That covers your gratitude payment for now. I still need real money, of course,” you muttered. “And you're not getting your way out of it this time.”

“I would never. You can't pull the same con on the same person twice.”

“Oh, so it was a con? Did those flowers even go to your mother?”

“Nope. Underground flower smuggling ring.”

“Ah, I should've guessed. Tell your flower-loving crime boss that I’m thankful for all that you've done for me, but I unfortunately need to get going, because it's 9:30 and the shop opens at 10.”

Andrew complied. You two wrapped it up, and he put his jacket back on, covering up his tattoos much to your dismay. Your coffee cup, now empty, was discarded by the door.

“Thank you so much. For the coffee, for the company. Everything. Especially for the coffee, though, considering you barely even drank yours,” you commented, pointing at the half-full cup still in his hand.

“You’re welcome. And trust me, I was going to drink it, but I found myself much more engrossed in the conversation.”

Andrew grabbed the door and held it open for you, and you walked past him and thanked him. Both of you stood on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, unsure of how (or if you even wanted) to say goodbye.

“This is where we must part ways,” he said with a sigh.

“You say that like we're never going to see each other again.”

“A lot can happen in a few days, Y/N. You have no idea what the universe has up her sleeve.”

“Do you have some kind of knowledge about an apocalypse that I don't? Because when it comes to that kind of stuff, sharing is caring.”

“Just… prepping for the future, I suppose. If there is no apocalypse, I’ll see you when my bouquet’s finished.”

“I’ll see you then. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.”

You walked to your car, only a few footsteps away, the smile slowly fading from your face as he walked in the opposite direction. You sneaked a glance over your shoulder at him before opening the car door.

Sitting down in the driver's seat, you took a deep breath to bring yourself back to reality. Your mantra had been proven right: that was not a date. It just felt like one. A very successful one at that. He was a gentleman, listened to what you had to say, gave you a compliment, and you even set up an incentive to meet again. This not-a-date went better than most of your actual dates, and it was with a guy who, to your knowledge, had no romantic interest in you.

You were totally and utterly screwed.

[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."

[daisynik7]

hello it's me again not sure if it's alright to request one more (literally just ignore this if not) and its also not y2k but i'd like to request work song by hozier for nanami especially "no grave can hold my body down, i'd crawl home to her" angst with a happy ending during/post shibuya (no dying please) and reader is also a healer like shoko

thank you so much and congrats again 🫶🏼

Work Song

No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

cw: mentions of d*ath, bl*od, burn injuries, canon-divergent, set in the canon-universe during the Shibuya Incident Arc, MAJOR spoilers up to Shibuya Arc, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, happy ending

Summary: You’re a healer working with Shoko inside the medical tent at Shibuya Station while Nanami, your boyfriend, is in the line of fire for the battle ahead. After an especially life-threatening attack, Nanami, on the brink, runs into an old friend, who helps guide him back home. 

Author’s Note: @75songs thank you so much for sending in another request for the y2k karaoke party, always appreciate your love and support! I ADORE this song and have honestly always thought it was perfect for Nanami. I am an anime only and am not caught up with season 2 yet, so I didn’t want to read too much into what exactly happens during this arc, so some of the details may be inaccurate, just a heads up. This one got me in my feelings. I will forever hold a grudge against Gege for what they did to Nanami. Anyways, likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated! Thanks so much for reading! Divider by @/saradika.

October 31st. Maybe in another timeline, another reality, you and Nanami would be celebrating Halloween tonight, passing colorful candies and decadent chocolates to kids going door-to-door across the neighborhood. You’d force him to dress up in a silly costume, one that matches yours, despite his reluctance at first. Deep down, you know he likes this; domestic bliss, especially with you. The idea that the two of you could live a peaceful life together, away from the dangerous world of curses and Jujutsu sorcery. You discuss it constantly, dream about it, strive for it. A few more years, he says, and he’ll retire. There’s still more work to be done, people to be saved. 

You’re inside the medical tent beside Shoko, helping her set up the cots, anticipating injured sorcerers to arrive soon with the battle underway. Masamichi Yaga, Jujutsu High’s principal, stands guard outside, determined to keep the medical team, especially Shoko, safe from any posing threats. There’s no way to know what’s happening until people start arriving, in need of medical attention. You’re a healer too, but not nearly as skilled as Shoko, your mentor. Still, she encourages you to join them tonight, needing all the help they can get. 

“Are you feeling okay?” she asks, setting up the last bed. Observant as ever, she notices your quiet demeanor.

You nod, giving her a weak, unconvincing smile. “Yeah.”

“Nanami is going to be fine,” she assures you, sensing the root of your anxiety. “When this is all done, the two of you should take a vacation together.”

Relaxing a bit, you reply, “We already have our trip to Malaysia planned in a few months.”

She smiles kindly. “There you go. Something to look forward to.”

Her words ease some of the tension, but there’s dread settling in the pit of your stomach, and it won’t go away until you see Nanami again in one piece. 

The waiting game finally ends as soon as the first wounded sorcerer shows up in the tent, initiating nonstop chaos. You assist Shoko diligently, making sure everything is prepared for her to perform her Reverse Cursed Technique for those who need it, and patching up those who don’t, with less severe injuries. You’re constantly on the lookout to see a familiar face, trying to get an update on what’s happening out there. None comes, until you see Kiyotaka Ijichi limping towards the entrance, blood spread across his shirt. You and Shoko rush towards him, carrying him over your shoulders, leading him to an empty cot, gently laying him down. 

Shoko, showing panic on her face for the first time all night, inspects him carefully. “Ijichi, can you hear me?” She’s always had a soft spot for him, often telling you how endearing she finds him, always a nervous wreck in front of her. Seeing him like this is surely jarring, even for her, who’s as tough as nails. 

He nods weakly, mumbling something incoherent, blood sputtering from his mouth. You remove the shattered glasses from his eyes, wiping his lips with gauze. Shoko starts to work on him, directing you to check on the other patients. Before you can follow orders, you feel his weak grip on your wrist. You turn to face him, focused on his lips as he quietly utters, “Nanami.”

Your ears perk up at the mention of your boyfriend’s name, leaning in closer to hear the rest of what he has to say, taking his time through labored breaths. “He…saved…me…” 

You do your best to keep your composure, nodding at him silently, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. Unsure how to respond, you leave them, going to the other side of the tent to check on the remaining sorcerers. 

With everyone else in stable condition, you take a minute outside the tent to sob into your hands, praying that Nanami is still alive. Unaware of your surroundings, you’re startled when Yaga approaches, his large figure sitting beside you. “You alright?”

You wipe away your sniffles on your sleeve. “Just…nervous.”

He crosses his arms over his chest, sighing. “Yeah, I get it. But Nanami is one of our strongest sorcerers. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

Again, more words of comfort, but not enough to ease the nervous flutter in your belly. Yaga recognizes this and adds, “Nanami would fight through the fires of hell instead of letting himself die. Not because he wants to live for himself. But because he wants to live for you.”

You face him now, processing his statement. He chuckles, lifting his sunglasses to meet your gaze. “That man has never been so smitten in his life. He’d crawl out his grave just to be with you, I guarantee it.”

~~~

The last thing Nanami remembers is desperately wishing he was in Malaysia with you instead of at Shibuya Station right now. He wakes up, sitting in one of the seats on the platform. It’s eerily quiet with no one in sight. The distinct sounds of trains on the rails or the hustle and bustle of people moving along is strangely absent, and it occurs to Nanami that this may be a dream. 

He's sure of it when he feels a nudge to his side, turning to face Yu Haibara sitting next to him. There’s a warm smile on his boyish face, dressed in his Jujutsu High uniform, exactly as he was many years ago when Nanami last saw him, alive and well. The same bright, earnest eyes he remembers vividly of his best friend. He swallows hard, an uneasy feeling surrounding him. Is he seeing a ghost? Or is this the afterlife?

Haibara laughs, and Nanami is snapped out of his reverie and taken immediately back to 2006, when he first met his friend during orientation. He can’t help but grin, happy to see him still so lively. “Well, aren’t you going to greet your old friend, Nanami?”

Nanami does, hugging him, astonished to feel him in his arms almost like a real person. Almost. “What are you doing here?”

“Just came to visit you, that’s all.”

Nanami lets him go, studying him carefully, looking for any signs of decay. When he spots none, he asks him, “Am I dead?”

Haibara shakes his head. “Not quite. But you’re pretty damn close.”

“I am?”

“Yeah. So you better hurry and get home quick.” Haibara points towards the railings, now illuminated at one end by a blinding flash of light. “Yuji’s waiting for you.”

“Itadori? How do you know – “

Haibara then says your name with a big smile. “Yeah, I know her too. They’re all waiting for you, Nanami. You don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do you?”

It takes a while for Nanami to get up, and when he does, he’s off balance, legs wobbly, body unsteady. Haibara helps him, offering his shoulder, the two of them walking slowly towards the light. “I really like her, you know. Your girlfriend.”

“You do?” Nanami asks, hobbling beside him. 

“Yeah. She’s really nice, really pretty, and she eats a lot, especially with you,” he chuckles. “You know how much I like that.”

“Yeah I do.”

“And I’m a good judge of character, so I think she’s perfect for you. If that means anything,” he says, proudly.

“It does. It means a lot.” They’re near the edge of the platform now and Nanami will have to hop down to reach the end of the tunnel. 

“Are you going to marry her soon?” Haibara asks, pausing just before the edge. 

Nanami nods, grinning. “I’m planning to propose during our vacation in Malaysia.” 

“Good. Good.”

He’s tempted to stay longer, wanting a few more moments with his friend, but he knows that time is ticking. He hugs him again, squeezing him tight. “Take care, Haibara.”

“You too, Nanami. I’ll be looking out for you.”

His chest constricts, jumping off the platform, landing roughly on the railings, blinking away the tears in his eyes. It’s sweltering now, the light emitting an intense heat from within. He gives Haibara one last glance, cherishing the happy expression on his face as he waves goodbye to him before walking into the light.

Seconds later, Nanami wakes up with a gasp of breath, vision blurred, a droning pounding beating against his ear drums. It soon fades and only Yuji’s panicked voice yelling from behind him is heard. He’s being dragged by the armpits, away from the battle. Smoke radiates from his entire form, and he can barely move. In fact, he can barely feel anything at all. 

They reach the medical tent, Itadori yelling for help the whole way. Yaga is the first to reach them, his usual calm demeanor wavering at the sight of Nanami, body half-burned from the explosion. They carrying him delicately inside, resting him on the only empty cot left. He wants to close his eyes; he’s so exhausted, and sleep is the only thing to bring him peace right now. That, or you. 

As if his prayers were heard, you appear at his side, truly a vision, even while you sob for him, holding his mangled hand in yours, begging for him to stay with you. He can die happy now, seeing your face, knowing that you’re here, alive, heart beating, surviving. Can he do the same? Can he survive this? All he knows is that he’s trying with every fiber he has left in his being. He won’t leave you, not like this. Not without experiencing life on the outside with you. 

It’s in this moment that he vows to endure. Even if he has to crawl out of his grave to do it, he’s determined to be with you again. 

~~~ 

November 1st. Maybe in another timeline, another reality, Nanami is gone. Not in this one, though. Instead, you sit beside him, healed and in one piece thanks to Shoko, fingers laced with his, careful not to squeeze too tightly. Yuji and Ino are at his other side, talking animatedly about how amazing Nanami was the entire fight, and all he can do is lay there, smiling. Happy to be alive. Happy to be with you. 

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

I am DEATHLY curious about your most recent (stunning, beautiful, awesome) omegaverse svsss au. How does shen yuan act about being an omega??? Is he bombarded with new instincts and impulses that he, the king of denial/repression, just never acts upon? I’m also really interested in how he overall reacts to binghe’s overall alpha-ness

im sorry it took me so long to get to your ask!! i wanted to wait until i had time to properly write out a reply, and holiday travel is exhausting. ANYWAYS. im almost certainly gonna have way too much to say about this lmao, im sorry in advance (update. i just finished writing. there’s…there’s a lot, im sorry lmaooo)

when sy transmigrates into essentially an OC, the system does him the courtesy of ensuring he pops into existence with some medicinal teas used as suppressants. he entered the body in a state where it was using qi to suppress inconvenient instincts and impulses. so when he first arrived, he had a few days with the knowledge that he was an omega before the instincts and impulses started hitting with a force he couldn’t ignore. my mans was like ‘oh being an omega isn’t too bad; idk why airplane made it seem like such a big deal in the book’ etc etc.

once the suppression wears off, though, poor sy is kind of taken out with a migraine just from the overload of scent information. while his body has been parsing that kind of information for who knows how long (sy surely doesn’t!! he has no idea how old this body is!!), he’s kind of overwhelmed by this new stream of information he simply never had before. he adjusts pretty quickly to the scents and pheromones aspect of being an omega (as much as he can without any other alphas or omegas around, of course).

it’s the instinct and impulse bit that’s given him trouble.

the nesting drive is both new and summarily dismissed as a quirk of this new body. it just likes to be surrounded in soft things. what’s wrong with that? everybody likes being comfortable, and even little kids feel safe from scary monsters when they’re covered in blankets. never mind that he spends 45 minutes and one near-breakdown arranging the bedding in the first inn he stays at. that’s just because he’s frustrated from all the walking he’s been doing. and no, he’s not purring once he gets it right, because people don’t do that. it’s a sigh, tyvm.

(he just tunes out the sound of purring after a while. it’s inconvenient information he’s not ready or equipped to deal with, so he simply decides it doesn’t exist.)

the omegan vocalizations give him a lot of trouble, tbh. at one point in his wandering, he wanders into a little town. after playing a very strange game of hide and seek with the local children (they are both hiding and seeking, peeking around corners to watch sy and running away as soon as he looks at them), the oldest leads him to her parents’ house. he stays with them for a few days and can’t help his pleased chirping whenever the pups—children! the children!!—bring him cool rocks or interesting plants. he tells his hosts stories and they give him warm spiced tea, and his pleased chirp startles his hosts so badly they nearly drop the pot. (most people never meet alphas or omegas, though they know how to identify them.

when he meets lbh, every bit of self control sy thought he had is tested. he’s coming off of days of being stressed, afraid, and in pain, and he’s sure to his bones that lbh is going to kill him. sy becomes jumpy, finds himself sleeping better in confined spaces (under the bed, under a pile of blankets, in the corner of the room after moving blankets/furniture to construct a little den for himself). his purring is scratchy and stuttered and near-constant whenever someone else is around (self-soothing purring sounds far less smooth than contented purring. everyone in the palace can tell the difference).

at the same time, there’s something about lbh (his scent his voice his aura of deadly control) that has sy wanting to be close. he writes it off as the protagonist halo. of course being around lbh feels both like having a knife at his throat and like coming home for the first time in years—he’s the protagonist and sy is an omega! it’s unfortunately inevitable that he’d want to be around lbh at least a little bit. when lbh gives sy a heavily scented outer robe, sy adds it to his nest and immediately shifts across the room from it, glaring and keening and wringing his hands as if it were an invader that arrived on its own.

when lbh tries to use his alpha voice on sy to get him away from sj, shen yuan is livid. he feels small and violated and deeply disrespected, and he refuses to see lbh when he has the choice, and denies him the opportunity to scent mark him when he doesn’t have the choice to stay away. lbh doesn’t use alpha voice on him again, but sy is too busy being furious and hurt to pick up the dark, burning scent of pain and regret coming from lbh. besides, if lbh were truly sorry, he’d say something instead of stinking up the place with his stupid alpha pain.

eventually, being away from lbh for so long after frequent regular contact with him starts…getting to sy. after a week or two of the silent treatment, lbh finally forces a conversation where he doesn’t really apologize but at least acknowledges that he offended his new omega. sy takes it for the peace offering it is and allows lbh to scent him again. except. sy had basically been rolling around in lbh’s alpha scent since he arrived at the palace, and after a week without it, his body was less than pleased with the thought that his alpha had abandoned him. so when he’s scented again and given a new robe for his nest, sy kind of…goes into heat a little bit.

this has never happened to him before. he doesn’t realize what’s going on until a full day in, when he’s cramping so badly he can’t get out of bed and his bedding is soaked through with all manner of fluids. sweat, slick, tears. there are a lot of tears. a lot more than he expected. and besides feeling terrified and being in a surprising amount of pain (wasn’t heat supposed to be sexy, airplane?!?!?!!), sy is weirdly lonely. there’s this ache in the back of his mind, this animal part of him yowling at the wrongness of going through this alone. his alpha is supposed to be with him. his alpha isn’t with him. his alpha doesn’t want him.

so he cries a lot, the first couple of days. can’t help it. he’s hot, he’s aching, he’s empty, he’s horny, he’s desperately lonely, and even though he’s alone, he feels absolutely humiliated by all this nonsense. being an omega is bullshit, actually. shen yuan wants a knot in his ass and a refund on this whole experience.