#-- i'm still working on tag dumps and graphics

[safination]

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes||Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there

Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.

Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount? Updated: 5/01/2024 *just realized that I forgot to add the part I was supposed to add*

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“…Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe…or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “…Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.  

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“My dearest good doctor,” Egg Boi #04 reads. “What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh…yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.  

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right….” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as your turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, least you get scrambled.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

 Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor…,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We…invite my…dad.”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh…So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table,  deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

 “Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years…his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois. They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump. 

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up a…er… interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’. Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God…

Lucifer begins to sing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

 “The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh…hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm…he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk?  There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No…not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say…light treasure hunting…?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh…his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of… a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of… let’s say… mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like… the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story…Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh…” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps.�� A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why…why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I… I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

 “Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think…” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just….” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

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“Motherfucker!” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firm against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“………No.”

“Then settle down, Husker,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still…or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “Bitch.”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “Virgin.”

Husk’s fangs show when he growls. “I am not…grandma.”

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties…or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot …or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected.”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you…do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“What does that even mean?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I…have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh…and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha!”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming  me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’.

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh… I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly.  “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“Husband?” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “Pause,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh…Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well…no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘friend’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just…I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why…?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why…ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘friend’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean… I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything.”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wife it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Will double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs. Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs.  (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This….” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh…that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait…,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You…you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

 Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

“Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you.  That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes…?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer. Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass. Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor.. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we, my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment. Someone pounds on the door. You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops…?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room…Huh, that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulder, his hold on you firm. His touch keeps you grounded. Your eyes flutter to where you pressed against the wall, but Alastor pokes your cheek with the tips of your fingers, nudging your face to keep your eyes on him. The hotel burns in chaos, and you dig your fingers into the fabric of his coat.

Alastor holds your gaze. He smiles at you softly, but you see the hardness in his eyes and the tension is his jaw. 

You try to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No, not in the slightest” he says, eyes squinting into a harsh glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

The hotel trembles, and more fire crashes through the windows. 

You try to turn to the chaos around you, but Alastor leans to the side, blocking the surroundings with his face. “I’d like an answer.”

He smoothes the feathers on your hair, and you lean into his hold, shaking your head. “Not a single feather out of place,” you say. “Thank you, my deerest.”

The hotel trembles once more, but you keep your gaze locked into Alastor’s.

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

 Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out.  “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully, with a grin.

“Mimzy…” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “…Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh…

Another song.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—he doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he sys, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“Doting husband?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close… just… one… second…

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems…It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride…his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead.  “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘glorious’. People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh… I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just…trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: | Part 4: The Radio Stars' Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

[alwaysonthemend]

Read Part I Here

Author's Note: The long awaited Part 2! Thanks to all those who sent asks about it - ya'll helped keep me motivated🤍 This turned out a lil' angstier than I had initially intended but it all works out in the end 😌

All I have left to add is justice for Jake's curly hair and for Waited All Your Life (it'll make sense once you read it)

Content Warnings: Jake x Fem!reader / Jake x Fem!OC (Lindsey) / Mature content / 18+ Only / angst / adult themes / unrequited love / feelings of inadequacy / miscommunication / break ups / graphic descriptions of sex / oral sex / fingering / I'm going to go ahead and tag this with emotional cheating as well because Jake is definitely emotionally cheating on Lindsey (emotional cheating is still cheating so it gets a warning)

Word Count: 9k (I don't wanna talk abt it)

My Taglist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

March, 2023 – Nashville International Airport – Y/n’s POV 

The coffee you had downed earlier that morning does nothing to stop the way your eyelids fight to stay closed every time you blink. The airport isn’t too busy yet – a small victory, thanks to the early hour. You walk slowly, eyes focused up at the signs as you wheel your carry-on behind you. 

There! You think to yourself, finally catching sight of C3. Exhaustedly, you dump your things on the floor next to a row of seats and you collapse heavily into one. You glance around again, then look over your shoulder. So far, it seems you’re the first to arrive. 

Anxiety thrums through you, making your palms feel cold and clammy and the back of your neck feeling hot. You’re struck with the sudden desire to just turn tail and run for the hills. But unfortunately you can’t. Just like you couldn’t quit your job at your agency with such short notice. You’d told him you were done – that you were leaving and you’d fully intended to do so. But your boss hadn’t exactly been understanding when you told her you wanted to be transferred somewhere else. You can still hear her shocked voice through the phone, completely shattering any hopes you’d had of being able to escape this shit show with at least a little bit of dignity left. 

So here you sit, waiting. 

And of course, since the universe is intent on making your life as miserable as possible, he is the next person to arrive. 

“Y/n.” Jake’s voice is the same as ever – but this time still just a little bit rough since it’s so early. “I… I thought you said-”

“My notice has been put in.” You interrupt him, wringing your hands together where they sit in your lap. “They just couldn’t find someone to fill in for me at such short notice.”

Jake’s eyes widen just a little at the sharpness of your tone. You wince internally but keep your face deliberately neutral. It’s not his fault, you remind yourself. How could he have known that I love him?

“Oh.” He answers, shuffling his feet a little and glancing down at the ground. 

It’s silent for long enough that you almost start talking about the weather or the traffic but you refrain. You’re both going to have to get over this eventually if you’re going to be expected to work together for this last leg of the tour.

“May I sit?” He asks at last, gesturing to one of the seats next to yours after standing there awkwardly with his suitcase in one hand and his backpack slung over his shoulder in a way that can’t be comfortable. 

“Sure.” 

Jake sits and you bite your tongue. There’s so much you want to say – so much that you wish you had said, but the middle of an airport terminal at 6 in the morning isn’t exactly the place for it. 

The silence is worse than the talking but you don’t want to be the one to break it. Just a few months and then I can forget he ever existed, you think – deliberately ignoring the fact that you know you could never forget what it feels like to be in love with Jake Kiskza. Even when he doesn’t love you back. 

“How was the ride here?” He asks haltingly, lips instantly turning down in a wince at the stupid question. But at least it’s not silent anymore. 

“Boring. Not much traffic, thankfully.” So much for not talking about the traffic. 

Jake nods once, chewing on his bottom lip for a moment before answering. 

“Same. Perks of an early flight. Beat the rush.” 

You’re pretty sure this is the most excruciating thing you’ve ever had to experience and you can’t help but look around in a desperate hope that someone else has arrived to end this torture. No such luck. 

“Right.” You answer him, pulling your phone out to check the time. It’s an hour to boarding and surely one of the others will be here soon. 

Of course I’m the only tech who also lives in Nashville, you think bitterly, wishing that anyone other than a Kiszka or Wagner were here in order to rescue you. Jake looks just as uncomfortable as you do. He keeps shifting in his seat and fixing his hair when it doesn’t need to be fixed. 

After a long moment of tense, uncomfortable silence, Jake opens his mouth – clearly about to say something that you don’t really want to hear, when a loud “Good morning, fellow travelers!” interrupts him. 

Sam’s voice makes you jump and Jake’s mouth snaps shut. You whip around to see Sam – looking far too energetic for this early in the morning. 

“Morning, Samuel.” Jake grumbles, looking not at all happy at his untimely interruption but you couldn’t be more grateful. 

Sam, always good at being entirely unaware, plops himself down in the seat on the other side of you and leans on his knees to look past you and over at Jake. 

“Glad to see you’re still a grumpy bastard in the morning.” Sam then looks at you. “And Y/n, it's always nice to see your bright, shining face this early.”

You don’t feel particularly bright or shiny but you smile at Sam despite the anxiety coursing through your veins. 

“Morning, Sam. Glad to have the life of the party present at last.” 

It doesn’t take long for Daniel to arrive next, a little less cheery and energetic as Sam but still in a great mood. You know they’re happy to be going back on the road. You would be too if… if things hadn’t happened the way they did. 

// 

The terminal fills and fills until finally passengers are allowed to board. You rise, grabbing your suitcase and you toss your empty coffee cup into the trash. Jake rises too, immediately grabbing his things and following you. 

“Y.n…” He starts, fumbling in his pocket to pull out his boarding pass. “Can- can I sit next to you? I’m sure Josh wouldn’t mind if he and I switched.”

You pause. You really don’t know if this is the place for whatever conversation Jake is going to force you to have. You would much rather sit next to Josh, just as had been originally planned, but you can’t help the way Jake’s sincere, chocolate eyes make you melt. 

“I mean, if you want to I guess you-”

Once again, the two of you are interrupted by a loud voice, this time coming from Josh as he practically sprints across the terminal. 

“Made it!” He exclaims, making Sam roll his eyes and Daniel laugh a little. 

“Always the dramatic entrance, Josh.” Danny mutters before walking up and scanning his boarding pass. 

“Josh.” Jake nods at his twin, looking as if he’d like to throttle the man. 

“Jake.” He answers and then smiles at you. “Y/n! Good morning!”

“Morning, Josh.” He instantly puts your nerves to rest a little, making that knot of anxiety loosen just enough for you to feel a little less miserable. 

“No Lindsey?” 

Your heart swoops down into your stomach as Jake widens his eyes a little at Josh’s question. 

“Um.” He starts, swallowing thickly and darting his eyes towards you. “She’s uh.. She’s gonna meet us in Raleigh. I think she’s going to tag along until El Paso… Just depends on how much time she can get off from work.” 

“Ah.” Josh shoves his phone into his pocket. “Gotcha. Well,” he glances at the dwindling line of people as they board the plane and then looks to you, “you ready, seat buddy?”

You glance at Jake and try to ignore the wounded look in his eyes. The stark reminder that not only does Jake not have feelings for you but that he’s also in a committed relationship to someone else… well. It’s enough to remind you why you asked Josh to get the seat next to yours in the first place. 

“Of course!” You loop your free arm with Josh’s and give him and Jake the most convincing smile that you can muster. “Let's get this show on the road.” 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

March 12, 2023 - Greenville, SC

It had been entirely too easy for you to pretend as if Jake doesn’t exist – as if the two of you hadn’t been such good friends just months before. He’d taken the hint early on that you didn’t want to discuss whatever it was that he felt the two of you needed to discuss. You were mortified as it is that Lindsey knew the truth – and horrified by the knowledge that Jake knows how much you’d misread the situation with him. He’d been looking for a hookup and you were the unfortunate one who’d managed to catch feelings throughout it all. But so far, Jake has respected your wishes to keep your distance. 

He’s never rude, treating you the same way he would treat any of the other tech people who he maybe didn’t know quite as well. And while the distance stings, you know it’s for the best. If the others had noticed the sudden change in your relationship, thankfully none of them had said anything to you – and hopefully not to Jake either. It really was as if none of it had ever happened and you definitely weren’t counting down the days until Lindsey’s supposed arrival.

You’d just spent the last 30 minutes doing Sam’s makeup – time which he’d spent cracking jokes and talking 90 to nothing the entire time. You’d  just nodded along, smiling and adding commentary when you felt it was necessary. But really, you just enjoyed listening to him talk. He made you laugh – just like all the boys do, and talking with Sam had been a welcome distraction and way to fill your time since Josh’s partner had arrived… time that you once would have spent with Jake. 

You bustle about in the makeup room, tidying things up and putting them in their places. You tuck each of the boys’ foundations in their designated bags, along with whatever eyeshadow palettes or rhinestones they prefer. Your brushes have been washed and now lay out to dry on a towel on the counter top. There’s nothing much left to do except pack away Josh’s ridiculous amount of hairstyling products and then you’ll be free to spend the rest of your time however you please. 

The door opens but you don’t look up from your task of shoving hairspray bottles into your bag, fully expecting it to only be Josh or Danny coming back in for a last minute touch up. It’s only about an hour before they go on. 

“Hey.” 

You startle, whipping around at the sound of his voice. Jake stands in the doorway, waiting just on the threshold as if not daring to enter fully until you invite him to do so. 

“Hi.” Your voice comes out surprisingly steady despite the way your heart is racing. This is the first time that you’ve been alone with him. “Something I can do for you?”

Jake nods, taking a single, hesitant step into the room and then stopping again. 

“Just something small.” His eyes find yours in the mirror as you turn your back to him, trying to get your bearings a little bit. “Wanted to change my look up a little.”

You turn back around to face him and beckon him over to sit in your chair. Jake never does makeup – even before all this. Jake takes a seat and looks up at you, not saying a word.

“I’m guessing you don’t want rhinestones.” You say with a smile and Jake’s shoulders relax just a little.  

“No. No rhinestones.” He affirms, clasping his hands in his lap. His words are soft yet deafening in the quiet of the room. Your heart races so fast you swear he must be able to hear it. “Maybe just some eyeliner? I’ve done it myself a few times but… I’m not as good at it as you are.” 

You tilt your head and smile down at him. 

“I should hope that I’m at least kinda good at it.” You grab an eyeliner pencil from Danny’s bag. “It is my job after all.”

Jake huffs a laugh but the sound quickly dies out as soon as you lower yourself to get closer to him. You haven’t seen him this close since… since that night in the bathroom. His eyes are like pools of hot cocoa as he watches you intently. Dark lashes, delicate, pink lips. His skin is smooth except for a light dusting of hair on his upper lip – only noticeable this close. 

“Can you..?” You look down at his crossed legs and then back up at him. 

“Oh. Yeah.” He spreads his legs so that you can step closer. “Sorry.”

You step between his thighs and lower yourself down. Keeping his head steady by holding his jaw with your free hand, you gently swipe the black eyeliner over his lash line. You tilt his head up and choose to ignore the way his eyes stay trained on you the whole time. 

“Look up for me?” You ask softly and he obeys. You gently tug his eyelid down and swipe the black over his waterline as well before moving to do the same on the other side. You use the little brush on the other end of the pencil to blend the color out a little.

“Finished?” He asks as you step away, his eyes blinking rapidly for a moment as his eyes water a little. 

You look at him for just a moment, trying to treat him just like any other client and not like the guy you’re hopelessly in love with who’s dating someone else.  

“Almost.” You turn around and begin digging through Danny’s bag again, making a mental note that maybe you need to make one for Jake in case he decides that he likes the way he looks with this. You grab a tube of mascara and step back towards him. “Just a little bit of mascara.”

You swipe the mascara over his long lashes, making sure that they don’t clump and then you step back and admire the look. His eyes – deep set and thoughtful, look incredible in the eyeliner. It makes his features stand out just a little bit more and you know it will look great under the stage lights later tonight. 

“Now I’m finished.” 

Jake stands and takes a step towards the mirrors on the vanity. He tilts his head to the side as he admires himself in the reflection. 

“I like it.” He says after a long moment, turning back to look at you. “Much better than when I do it.” He smiles a little. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

That tension that was present in the airport a few days ago is suddenly back with full force and you wish that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Jake clearly feels it too and he reaches a hand up and runs his fingers through his hair. He drops his hand, the once brushed through strands now a little messy. 

“Here, wait.” You don’t know why you do it – it’s like your body just gravitates towards his without you even thinking about it, but you take a step towards him. Placing a hand on his chest, you push him back towards the chair until he sits back down. “Let me fix your hair a little.”

Jake watches in silence as you grab a comb and some styling mousse. You brush through his hair, admiring how some of it reflects auburn in the light. You set it back to its natural part with the comb and then spread some of the mousse on your palms. You rake your hands through his hair, depositing the product and then twirling the ends around your fingers a little, helping the natural waves to form better. They go easily – as if rebelling against the way he must have straightened it earlier. 

“You’ve got wavy hair.” The words slip out without you meaning them to and even you can hear the slight awe in your voice – as if him having wavy hair is some novel, incredible thing. Heat rushes to your cheeks but Jake doesn't acknowledge it. 

“I think it could be curly if I really wanted it to be.” He answers softly. “Not like Josh’s but… it’s really wavy when I let it air dry on its own.” 

“I-I like it.” You answer him, voice equally quiet. “It suits you.”

“Thank you.” 

You realize suddenly just how close you’ve gotten to him. You straighten and step back and Jake pulls back as well – he’d been leaning in close to you. 

“Guess you should probably head out there.” 

Jake nods and rises, hearing the dismissal in your tone and the shift in your body language. 

“Right. Yeah. I uh. I should go.” Jake slides his palms over his thighs, eyes darting towards the door and then back to you. He hesitates, as if about to say something but then thinking better of it. “Thanks again.”

“You're welcome.”

You watch him go, chest aching. There’s a feeling in the pit of your stomach – the feeling that you’ve just made a mistake. You don’t know if it was allowing yourself to relax around him again or letting him walk away. 

You shake your head and continue tidying up. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

March 20, 2023 - El Paso, TX

Lindsey’s arrival in Raleigh hadn’t been as humiliating as you’d been expecting it to be. In fact, since she spends all her time with Jake – who you’d already been basically avoiding at all costs, you hardly see her at all. 

She’d only acknowledged your presence once that first day when she arrived. Just a nod and a terse smile, completely lacking the warmth and kindness from that first time you met and talked. You can’t blame her. She’d listened to you cry and hugged and comforted you – you, a virtual stranger, only to later find out that you’d been talking about her own boyfriend… it’s not exactly the best first impression you’ve ever made.

The El Paso show had gone on without a hitch – just as they usually do, and the boys had invited you and the rest of the tech and crew out for a meal, all expenses paid for. Ristorante Casanova was the place of choice; a little fancy for your tastes but the reviews had been great when you looked it up.

It had been Danny that had planned this – he’d reserved a section of the restaurant that was large enough for everyone to attend. He, Sam, and Josh (surprisingly on time) had been the ones to greet you. There were several other members of the crew already there as well and so you’d sat down at a table in the far corner where their stage manager – who you know pretty well, and some of the body guards had claimed. 

Carter is the first to greet you - a sweet, older man who's in charge of security. He smiles widely at you as you take a seat next to him.

“Sunflower! Glad you joined us.” 

Carter instantly brings you into the conversation, not allowing you to feel left out for one second. Everyone at your table is kind and fun to be around and they’re a welcome distraction. You hardly even notice when Jake and Lindsey arrive together arm and arm (and you don’t even notice the way Jake’s eyes keep straying to you from his table every chance he gets). Food and drink flows and conversation flows even better and everyone seems to be in good spirits. After you’ve eaten enough to feel like you need a nap, Josh stands and hits his spoon against his glass to get everyone’s attention. 

“Hear ye, hear ye!” He says theatrically, eyes sparkling and cheeks rosy from alcohol as he looks around the room at everyone. His eyes linger on you and he winks, making you roll your eyes playfully. “I just wanted to give you all a thank you for making this shit show go so smoothly. At least, as smooth as it possibly could be with all the craziness.”

There are a few murmurs of agreement and light laughter from everyone at that. 

“There have been far too many cancellations and reschedules,” Josh continues, his tongue clearly loosened even more than usual thanks to the wine that he’d been drinking, “and I just want you all to know how much we,” he gestures towards himself, Sam, Daniel, and Jake, “appreciate all the work that you guys have done! This Dreams and Gold circus wouldn’t be possible without each and every one of you.” 

All of the crew smiles at that and you can’t help the warmth that swells in your chest for this band. Despite everything that’s happened, this has been one of the most wonderful experiences of your life. Not only is the crew full of incredible people, but the band is, too – most rock stars of their stature would never take the time or money to take their crew out for a dinner like this, let alone with a speech of gratitude on top of it all. 

“So please, keep enjoying the food and the alcohol and be merry! You’ve all earned it.”

Josh finishes his speech and sits down, and everyone claps and whoops. One of the tech guys calls out a ‘We love you guys!’ to which everyone else shouts their agreement. The boys, all looking bashful but happy, call their love back out to them. Chatter starts up again, and you take the opportunity to slip away to the ladies' room. 

// 

After relieving yourself and washing your hands, you step back out into the little hallway outside the bathroom, smoothing your palms over your dress a little bit. You feel good. You’ve laughed more tonight than you have in days and everyone else is in a good mood, too. 

You stop in your tracks when you look up to see Jake blocking you from the rest of the hallway. 

“Jake.” You begin, thankful that for once, anxiety doesn’t shoot through you at the mere sight of him. You’re in far too good of a mood for that to happen now. “You okay?” 

He’s got an odd look on his face as he stands there blocking your path but still your good mood lingers, 

“I uh,” he clears his throat, “I don’t really know. I think I’m drunk.”

“Ah.” You walk a few paces forwards so that you can see him better in the dim light of the hallway. His cheeks are indeed flushed like they get when he’s had a little too much. “The men’s is right there.” You jerk your head towards the door for the men’s restroom and then start to push past him but he stops you, a hand darting out to grip your bicep. He doesn’t grab hard – light enough that you could easily pull away if you wanted to. 

But you stay. Of course you stay. 

“Wait.” His words are a little slurred and you wince a little. He’s clearly in a heightened emotional state right now and your mind races with ways to diffuse the situation. 

“I think I made a mistake.” He continues on. “With you. We- we were good friends?” He phrases it as if it’s a question but you know the answer already and you know he does too. You two were great friends.

“We don’t have to go through this again.” You answer him, anger beginning to rise. Of course you couldn’t have just one night where you felt normal. And fuck him for making you feel like this. “You’ve already told me that that night was a mistake.Trust me, I’m well aware, Jake.”

It’s like being on an emotional roller coaster. The initial hope, then the crushing disappointment of unrequited feelings. Now it feels like everytime you start to get over things he appears to draw you back in. First in your makeup chair and now this… You’re entirely certain that if he would just leave you alone, if he would stop sending these cruel mixed signals, you know that this would be easier. You know you could finally move on from this. 

Good mood completely soured with anger, you try to push past him again but this time he steps forward and backs you up into the wall, his hands grabbing your shoulders. 

“No! That’s- that’s not what I meant, Sunflower.” 

“Then what exactly do you mean, Jake?” He’s close enough now that you can smell the tequila on his breath. “Because I know how you feel about me. And I swear to god it’s starting to feel like you enjoy having me pining after you. Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Jake’s head falls, his hair falling down to frame his face. 

“I don’t know. I tried too. But you keep pulling me back.” He frowns down at you before adding quietly, “I’m sorry.” 

You can’t bring yourself to say ‘it’s okay.’ All you can do is stare at him, feeling suddenly as if every sense has been overtaken by him. The heat of his body, the smell of him, the way his hands are on your shoulders to keep you pressed against the wall… 

His eyes drop and for a split second you swear his gaze lingers on your lips before flicking back upwards. Your heart races, chest burning as you basically hold your breath. 

“Sunflower, I-”

“What. The. Fuck?”

Jake rears back and away from you as if he’d been burned at the sound of Lindsey’s voice.

Panic washes over you as you take in Lindsey’s face – there’s anger, of course. But mostly hurt. Fuck, you know that you and Jake both look guilty even though you technically haven’t done anything. 

“Lindsey!” You begin, stepping away from the wall, “God, it’s not what it looks like. I swear. I’m so sorr-”

“Save it.” She interrupts you, turning her icy gaze towards Jake who’s backed himself up into the opposite wall and is looking at her with wide eyes. “You’re not the one I’m pissed at.”

Jake looks on the verge of either crying or passing out and you feel a bit like you might do either one of those as well. You don’t know what to do as the three of you stand there in a stalemate. 

The air feels oppressive and you wrack your brains for something, anything, to say that might make this better. You can’t think of a single, god damned thing. 

“You guys okay?” It’s Carter’s voice that breaks the silence as he enters the hallway, his eyebrows raising at the sight that greets him. “Ya’ll have been gone for a while.” Carter’s dart between the three of you before settling on you. “Y/n?”

“We- it’s fine. We’re fine, Carter.” It’s a big fat lie but you don’t really know what else to say. “I was just about to head home, actually.” 

You know it’s a cowardly thing to do – to just run away and not deal with whatever blow out is about to happen. But you can’t think of anything better to do. 

“Oookay.” Carter doesn’t look convinced that everything is fine but he seems to sense that this isn’t something to stick his nose in. “I’ll walk you out.” 

It’s not a question. All you can do is nod and numbly follow Carter out of the hallway. Jake follows you with pleading eyes but Lindsey doesn’t look at you until you’re all the way past her. Finally, she watches you go, giving you a curt nod with her lips pressed together. You would almost feel better if she was pissed and screaming at you instead. 

//

You cross your arms over your chest tightly as Carter waits on the curb outside with you for your Uber to arrive. You haven’t said anything to him but you can tell he’s itching to ask what the hell he just walked in on. 

“I’m guessin’ it’s complicated and I don’t wanna know?” He finally asks and you nod. 

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Are you okay?” You hate the genuine concern in his voice. You don’t really feel like you deserve it. 

“I will be.”

Carter kicks a rock and it goes skittering across the sidewalk. 

“I’m not trying to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong but… whatever he did to hurt you,” he sighs a little, “I know you didn’t deserve it.”

Despite the millions of awful thoughts that are running through your mind, you smile just a little. 

“Thank you.”

“And he’s a fool for not seeing what’s right in front of ‘im.”

To that, you have no idea what to say. So you don’t. The two of you wait in silence for your Uber, Carter’s body heat a comforting presence next to you. 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

March 26, 2023 - Reno, NV – Jake’s POV 

The night at the restaurant has been haunting just about every waking moment since. And when you sleep, Y/n’s look of hurt and Lindsey’s face filled with disappointment and anger swirl around within your dreams and send you waking in a cold sweat. 

You know this is all your fault. Y/n knows it. And fuck, now Lindsey knows it too. 

She’d been so damned understanding that night when she’s asked about your relationship with Y/n. She’d nodded along as you told her about the drunken hook up in a bathroom. When you’d asked her if it upset her, she’d merely shrugged and said that she “can’t change the past.” 

You’d told her you loved her that night and it had eased whatever worries she had… Now, you’re pretty sure that out of everything, that was the cruelest thing you ever did to her. 

It had been like walking on eggshells since Ristorante Casanova. You’d explained to Lindsey over and over that nothing had actually happened that night and that you hadn’t been planning on anything happening… that you had just wanted to talk to Y/n. Begrudgingly, she’d accepted your words as truth and your countless apologies but deep down you both know that your relationship isn’t going to ever return to what it was. She’d stopped saying ‘I love you’ back. 

You’d declined going out when Josh had asked the night before, claiming to be too tired after the show. It wasn’t a total lie. You were tired, but the show had nothing to do with it and everything to do with having Y/n’s body so close to yours again and the wounded looks Lindsey sends your way when she thinks you’re not looking. Lindsey hadn’t complained when you told her you wanted to stay in – in fact, she’d looked relieved. You’d both gone to bed without saying a word, the silence far more damning than anything else.

She’d been in the bathroom for almost an hour now. The water had been turned off a while ago but she’d yet to emerge. You sit on the edge of the bed, waiting for her – feeling a bit like a guilty man waiting at the gallows. 

At last, after what feels like an eternity, the door to the bathroom opens and she emerges, washed and makeup freshly done. Your heart aches at how beautiful she looks – and at the fact that it doesn’t affect you the way it used to. 

“I’ve got a flight back home today.” She offers, eyes looking anywhere but you as she crosses the room to where her suitcase lays. It’s almost completely packed save for the bag of toiletries she carries with her from the bathroom. 

“I thought you were going to try to get more time off work so you could be at the last show?” You can’t help the hurt that bleeds into your tone even though you know you have no right to be feeling that way. 

Lindsey levels you with a hard look. It’s not anger. Just resignation… somehow, that’s even worse. 

“I think we both know why I’m not staying, Jake.” 

You shake your head even though you know she’s right. But things had once been perfect between the two of you and there’s this voice in the back of your head that’s telling you it can’t end like this; that things could go back to the way they were. You really thought you could love her. She’s everything you’ve ever looked for… at least, she used to be. 

“I loved you.” You say wretchedly, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s a shitty thing to say as a last-ditch effort to try and fix something that shouldn’t be fixed.

“I loved you too” She tosses her toiletries bag into her suitcase and zips it up.

Her eyes close as she pauses for a brief moment and your hands itch to reach out and touch her – to comfort her. But you can’t. You lost that privilege. 

“I did love you, Lindsey. I swear it. I just-” You cut yourself off, unable to put into words what changed. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Jake.” She rounds the edge of the bed and comes to stand in front of you. You sit with your elbows on your knees, head down in defeat. Delicately, she reaches out and hooks her finger beneath your chin, forcing you to look at her – to see the hurt written all over her face. “I think we both deserve better than this. I deserve better than second place.”

“Yes. You do, Lindsey. I’m- I’m sorry.”

She steps away from you and goes back to her suitcase. She grabs her phone from the nightstand and walks towards the door of the hotel room. She looks back only once and your eyes meet. 

“Don’t fuck it up with her, okay?” She tells you, eyes sparkling with just a little bit of warmth. She really did deserve better than this. Than you. 

“I think I already did.”

“Then fix it.”

You're heart feels like it breaks into a million pieces as you watch her go – breaking with the guilt of realizing that you're not even upset.

But deep down, you know why you don't feel more.

It had taken you losing her completely for you to realize that Y/n was the one who holds your heart; Y/n's smile that can light up your world in a way that no one else's can.

You hadn't quite known it yet... that night at the bar. You didn't know how deep your feelings for her ran until you got to feel her wrapped around you, crying out your name and looking at you like you hung the stars. But of course you'd panicked – convinced yourself that she couldn't possibly feel the same. And then you'd let your insecurity speak for you and had hurt both you and her all the more as a result. And then hurt Lindsey too by going out with her. In your defense — if you could even call it that... You had convinced yourself that Y/n didn't feel the same and you were so sure that you could move on from her.

But then you'd learned the truth of Y/n's feelings – from Lindsey of all people, and your world had crumbled around you.

But you refuse to let it stay this way. Y/n... your sunflower... you won't let her go again.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

March 26, 2023 - Reno, NV – Y/n’s POV  

So far, Reno has been your least favorite place you’ve been to for this job. The air outside is dry as the Sahara desert and you’re pretty sure that no amount of chapstick could help how dry your lips feel right now. Reno feels as if it’s merely trying to be Las Vegas – just without all the neon lights, restaurants, and fun activities that makes the smell of cigarette smoke and foot traffic worth it. 

Usually after a show, everyone likes to go out for dinner or drinks somewhere or you like to go exploring a new city. Neither is an option tonight as it seems that everyone is in agreement that Reno isn’t the type of place that they want to have to spend extra time in. And besides, it’s an early flight tomorrow and you have no desire to be up later than you have to tonight. 

At least there’s good water pressure, you think to yourself as you emerge from the bathroom, a threadbare bathrobe that the hotel had provided wrapped tightly around your waist. You shove your toiletries into your suitcase – ready for the early departure in the morning, and then collapse heavily onto the bed. Just one more show left.

You’d been feeling much better this past day, feeling less like your emotions were running all over the place and a little bit more centered with yourself. Apparently, being completely and utterly fed up about something does wonders for taking steps towards letting it go. 

A gentle knock on the door draws you from your thoughts, along with confusion about who on earth would be knocking at your hotel door – you look at the clock on the nightstand, at 11pm the night before a 7am flight. 

You look through the peephole and your stomach drops at the sight of Jake standing outside your door, his hands in his pockets. You undo the lock and open the door just enough so that you can see him fully. He looks freshly showered, his hair still slightly damp at the ends  and curling a little bit – just like he said it did that day in your makeup chair. 

“Jake?” You ask hesitantly, still not opening the door fully. “What are you doing here?”

You can’t quite get a read on his face. He looks… surprisingly normal as he stands there outside your door. 

“I was wondering if we could talk.” He answers. 

“Now?” You can’t help the sharpness in your tone but Jake takes it in stride, merely ducking his head a little and giving you a crooked smile. 

“I mean… yeah? I just wanted to be able to catch you when we won’t get interrupted.”

A thousand reasons why you should say no race through your mind, the number one of which being that he has a girlfriend who he should probably be with instead. But logic and Jake rarely share the same space in your mind so you open the door wider and allow him to come inside. The smell of his cologne hits you as he brushes past you and you’re assaulted with the mental image of a freshly showered Jake in his bathroom taking the time to put it on before coming to see you. You clear your throat and lock the door behind you. 

Jake stands in the middle of the room, hands still in his pockets, and finally that neutral expression on his face has melted away to something else. Is he… nervous?

“Did you catch the show tonight?” He asks, eyes following your every move as you take a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I caught the tail end, yeah.”

“Did you like it?”

You sigh a little. 

“I always like them.” And it’s the truth. He’s good at what he does. “But I don’t think you came here to my room this late to talk about the show.”

Jake nods, shuffling his feet a little and then biting his lip. 

“I guess I came to apologize.”

A small, vindictive little part of you rejoices and you speak before your mind can catch up. 

“There are a lot of things for you to apologize for. Which one are you talking about tonight?”

Jake winces and looks suitably chastised as he stands there before you. It doesn’t make you feel better like you thought it would to see him so unsure of himself. 

“There are a lot of things.” He agrees quietly, “but it’s what I was trying to say that night at the restaurant.”

You can clearly remember his words from a few nights ago – I think I made a mistake. With you. You raise a brow, waiting for him to elaborate. You’re tired of playing the guessing game with him. 

“It was a mistake to tell you that it meant nothing.” He continues on, eyes trained on the ground. “It was a mistake to call it a mistake. And I’ve spent every night since regretting what I said. And I regret that I didn’t see what I had until it was too late.”

Your mind goes completely blank as he speaks, brain unable or unwilling to decipher what he’s saying. You’re terrified of misreading this. Again. 

“What- what are you saying, Jake?”

He smiles a little, more of a grimace than anything, but he finally meets your gaze with his own. 

“I’m saying that- that I want you. For more than just sex, Sunflower. I want you.” He bites his lip, brows tipping downwards in a frown. “If- if you still want me, that is.”

“But Lindsey-” You begin, but he’s quick to cut you off. 

“Me and Lindsey are over. She’s on a plane going home as we speak. She doesn’t-” he cuts himself off with a wince. “I don’t love her anymore. I’m not sure I ever did. We’re done, Y/n. We should have been done a long time ago.”

You both stand there in tense silence. You want to scream and cry and hit him for everything that he’s put you through. But you also want to laugh and kiss his stupid, beautiful face. Words have failed you. You’ve spent so long dreaming that he would one day say these things and how you would respond but now that it’s happening… you can’t think of one single thing to say to him.

“I think I just need some time to think.” You finally say to him. Jake doesn’t look surprised by it either. 

“That’s- that’s fair.” 

“Once we get to Sacramento, after the show… come and find me. I’ll have an answer by then.”

Jake nods and turns to leave, looking a bit like a kicked puppy but you don’t allow yourself to reach out to him. Not yet. He can wait – just like you had to do. 

“And Jake?” He turns back around quickly, looking as if he’s trying not to look hopeful. “Thank you for telling me.”

His shoulders drop just a little but he nods and smiles. 

“Of course.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

March 28, 2023 - Sacramento, CA

Jake’s words play on repeat in your mind practically 24/7 in the days following his… his apology? Declaration ? You’re not entirely sure what to call it but by the night of the final show you’re pretty sure you have each word memorized. 

Jake had given you space – time, just like you asked him for. And of course, your mind has tried to rationalize what he’d said a million different ways as you try to take them as anything other than what they came across as – a proclamation of wanting a relationship with you. 

But surely that couldn’t be what he meant, right? He’d called that God-forsaken night in the bar bathroom a mistake from the moment it was over and he’d since been made more than aware of your feelings towards him thanks to your conversation with Lindsey that night back in Nashville. 

I want you. For more than just sex. Those words have been haunting you, always in the back of your mind as you try to move about through your days like a normal person. There’s no way he meant anything other than wanting a relationship, right? What else could that possibly mean? He’d looked so unsure, so unlike himself as he’d stuttered out If you still want me, that is. 

The words are still on replay in your mind as you move about your hotel room, anxiously packing and repacking everything that you own as you wait for Jake to come and find you after the show like you told him to. If he comes and finds you. The show ended hours ago and you know that there’s a big celebration going on – one that you’d been invited to but had chosen to stay home from. But it’s nearing 1AM… surely he’d prioritize coming to talk to you, right?

As if your thoughts have summoned him, there’s a knock on your hotel room door. This time, you don’t have to look through the peephole to know that Jake is waiting on the other side. 

“Come on in.” You tell him, widening the door. 

“Sunflower.” He breathes, eyes raking up your form for a moment before he steps into the room. “You answered.” He says it like he’s surprised.

“You came.” Is all you have to say in response and Jake nods. 

You’d had this conversation with him at least a million times in your head by now and you’d had a solid idea of what you were going to say. But now, as you look at him with his sweet, chocolate eyes filled with hesitance and just a little bit of hope… it all flies out the window. 

“Of course I still want you.” 

Jake’s face softens in a way you’ve never seen it before and he smiles – small but genuine. 

“You mean it?” 

You nod. It feels a little anticlimactic as the words settle between the two of you and neither of you seem to know what to say. You tell him as much, earning yourself a small laugh. 

“I don’t really know what to say now, either. But I do know that- that I would very much like to kiss you.”

It feels like the air in your lungs completely disappears as he says that. Unable to answer, you step forward and kiss him first. It’s soft– timid even. So unlike that first time in the bar all those months ago. He’s kissing you like he’s taking his time, memorizing how you taste and feel like he might never get to experience you again. 

He walks you backwards until the backs of your thighs hit the bed and then his mouth trails down to your throat and butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

“Let me do it right.” He murmurs into your skin, his hands exploring every inch of you. “Like I should have done from the start.”

It feels like your veins are full of liquid fire as his lips trail down your throat and to your collarbone. 

“Do whatever you want, Jake.” Is all your brain can come up with to say. 

He takes your clothes off slowly, as if savoring each inch of skin bit by bit as it's revealed to him. When at last you’re completely bare and his clothes join yours on the floor, he settles his weight fully between your legs and his palms spread out across your thighs, kneading the flesh and working his way up your sides, feeling every bit of you as if he’s trying to commit it to memory. 

His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips as you arch your back in a slow stretch. Jake’s eyes track every movement, every flicker and twitch of muscle beneath the skin as if truly seeing you for the very first time… as if he can’t believe it. His gaze lingers at last on your breasts, moving in tandem with your heavy breaths. 

Then his gaze slides lower. Lower. And when at last it lingers at the apex of your thighs, and his eyes glaze over with lust, you say to him, 

“Are you just going to sit there and stare?” 

Jake’s lips part at the challenge, his breathing going shallow. Jake is tense above you, so tense you fear the muscles might snap. But his hands are gentle as they drift to your inner thighs, rough fingertips ghosting along the sensitive skin there. 

With a stuttered breath he murmurs, “You are… so beautiful.”

You thread your fingers through his hair and use the grip to tug him upwards, instantly slotting your lips against his as soon as he’s in reach. You trace your tongue along the seam of his lips, fingers working to unbutton his pants. He groans into the kiss, tongue fighting desperately with yours. And, just to see what he’ll do, you palm him through his pants. 

Jake cries out, mouth falling open, lips still just barely touching yours as he groans. 

“You’re so hard.” You marvel, pressing down a bit more, feeling the heat and solidness of him beneath the fabric. 

“All for you.” He manages to say, hips rocking forward to meet the feeling of your palm against him. “If you keep doing that this is gonna be over before we start.” 

You exhale a laugh, removing your hand.

“You know what I regret the most?” He asks, moving his way back down your body. “From the last time?” 

With a grin you answer, “Other than telling me it was a mistake afterwards?” He frowns a little in response to that, dark eyes staring up at you with a look in them that tells you that maybe it's a little too soon to joke about it. “Sorry.” 

“No.” He shakes his head, hands splaying back out on your thighs and squeezing lightly. “I’m sorry.” His eyes drop back down to your dripping center. “And I regret not tasting this gorgeous pussy. Just so you know.” 

The words set you on fire, starting at your toes and running all the way up to the top of your head. His grip on your thighs tighten and then his tongue is on you – flicking relentlessly. Your body arches into him helplessly as your mouth falls open with a loud moan. He grins into your heat at the sound and a moan of his own escapes him. 

“Jesus.” You whine, your knees falling open even more. 

“No. Just me.” 

And God damn that voice. You didn't think it was possible for a voice to affect you like that but you're pretty sure that if it was possible you would want it to fuck you too. Deep and husky and smoother than whiskey. 

This time, the vigor with which he attacks your aching pussy with his mouth should be illegal. He makes a show of it – shaking his head from side to side and growling deep in his chest. All you can do is lay there and feel it – body writhing beneath him as the heat in your belly begins to rise and rise. 

You gasp as a rough fingertip prods your entrance, gathering your slick before slipping inside and curling deliciously, all the while he never lets up with his mouth. 

“Come on,” he urges, his breath hot on your aching core, “wanna taste you. Let me taste you, princess.” 

As if your body was merely waiting for his permission, the wave of white hot pleasure inside you hits its crest and you call out – a noise somewhere between animal and human that you might have been embarrassed about had you been more aware of yourself. And Jake just laps it up as your release spills into his mouth. 

Jake doesn’t pull away from you until your orgasm is completely finished and you start to shiver in overstimulation. His lips – plump and swollen, are shiny with your release. Grinning, he moves up your body and kisses you, tongue slipping past your lips and allowing you to taste yourself on him. It’s the most erotic thing you’ve ever experienced. Those eyes of his drink you in as he pulls away and you feel as though you could get lost in them. 

“What do you want?”

It takes your brain a moment to realize that he’s talking and a moment more to decipher what he’s just asked. But once it does, another wave of heat courses through your body and pools between your legs. 

“I want you inside me.”

Jake groans in answer, as if your words alone give him the utmost pleasure. 

“Whatever you want, princess.” 

“Do you have-?”

Jake grins and nods his head, rising up from the bed. He steps over to the pile of his discarded clothes (giving you an incredible view of his exquisite ass) as he bends down to reach into a pocket of his pants. 

“Would you think I’m an asshole if I said I came prepared?” He asks, turning around to face you again and raising a brow, the foil packet held aloft between his index and middle finger.  

Your heart warms at the sight – Jake, confident and relaxed around you as he once was.

“Nah.” He steps back towards the bed, stopping there without climbing back in. “Just appreciative.” You tell him, but still he makes no move to get back in the bed, his eyes scanning over your naked form in a way that feels more like he’s looking through you. You almost want to cover yourself beneath his intense gaze. “What are you doing?” 

“Just admiring the view.” He gives you a wolfish smirk and then climbs back into the bed, sitting himself on his knees between your thighs. 

As he rips open the foil with his teeth, you take a moment to admire his cock – hard and red and just as beautiful as the rest of him, where it stands proudly against his stomach. He rolls the latex onto himself, biting his lip and groaning a little bit as he pumps himself a few times. 

“You’re beautiful too, you know.” You murmur, glancing up at him. A pretty blush spreads across his face and down his chest and it makes you giggle. Even the tips of his ears turn pink. Jake Kiszka – rock god who plays on stage in front of thousands, is shy. “There’s no way that made you blush.”

Jake laughs and murmurs a playful “Hush” and then he’s sliding into you, silencing whatever retort you might have had. He plants his hands on either side of your body, face contorting in agonized pleasure.

The stretch of him is overwhelming and you grip his forearms, arching up into him. 

“Hold on a sec.” You whisper and he does so without question, peeking down at you to make sure you’re okay. “Been a while.” You tell him with a blush of your own. 

“That’s okay.” He answers, kissing you once – brief but sweet. “Just tell me when, princess.” 

After a moment, you loosen your grip on his forearms and nod. He pushes into you fully, making both of you moan. He rocks his hips, still being gentle. His shoulders shake with the effort of holding himself back and that alone makes another rush of wetness rush down to your pussy. 

“You feel like Heaven wrapped around me.” His words are rough, muffled by his clenched teeth. 

“You can go harder, baby.”

Jake moans at that, upping his pace a little. It’s everything you’ve dreamed of and more to be with him like this – to have him panting and whining above you with each thrust of his hips. 

He grips your hips in his rough hands, pulling you upwards. 

“Legs around me, princess.” The words sound more like a plea and you’re quick to obey, your legs clamping down around his hips as he starts to move again. 

“Oh, fuck!” At this angle, the velvety head of his cock brushes the spot inside of you that drives you wild and sends your muscles taut as a drum. 

His pace is slow but his thrusts are powerful, driving into you in a way that makes you see stars.

“Shit.” His head drops down, his skin glistening with sweat in the warm light of the lamp. “I’m not gonna last like this, Sunflower.” 

“I’m not either, Jake.” You manage to answer, your own words sounding far away. 

“Been a while?” He jokes, referencing back to your words earlier. 

 “Partly.” You clench around him mercilessly, drawing a loud groan from him that makes you giggle at the power you have over him. “Mostly because it’s you.”

Jake’s body shudders and his cock throbs inside of you. He’s dangerously close but he’s desperate to get you there first. Your eyes roll back into your head when his thumb finds your swollen clit, rubbing in harsh circles in time to each thrust. Unable to hold on any longer, your orgasm crashes into you, stealing the breath from your lungs and sending your muscles twitching and contorting as he keeps fucking you through it. Not a moment later Jake cums with a rough cry, burying his face in your neck as you both ride out your pleasure together. 

“Please stay.” You ask him and he nods against you. 

“As long as you want me to.”

// 

The sun shining through the blinds is what wakes you up. You reach out beside you, expecting to feel the warmth of Jake’s body heat next to you but you’re met with an empty bed. Did he leave? Brows furrowing, you sit up and look around and your worries are instantly silenced at the sight of Jake – in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom and running your comb through his hair. You rise from the bed and Jake looks over at you and smiles.

His skin is still flushed from the hot water of the shower and you have to fight to stop staring at the way his biceps flex as he brushes his hair and at the bead of water that trails down the middle of his stomach and disappears into the towel.

“Morning.” His morning voice is like whiskey and you blush just a little.

“Good morning.” As you reach the bathroom your eyes are drawn to a bottle of styling mousse that Jake must have gotten from your suitcase. He sees you looking at it and smiles shyly. 

“I was going to ask you to help me style it.” He tells you with a tiny smile and your heart melts. 

“Of course.” You step over to the counter and grab the bottle and just like you did last time, you spread the mousse onto your palms and then run it through his damp hair and then twirl it in sections. As you work – maybe taking a little bit more time than is really necessary, Jake starts to hum a tune under his breath. You’ve heard him whistle or hum it before. “What’s that song?” 

“Not sure yet.” Jake shakes his head a little, careful to not mess up his hair as you work on it. “I’ve had the tune in my head for a while. Just haven’t been able to think up any lyrics that fit.”

When you’re finished, his hair falls in loose waves that frame his face. Jake leans down and places a sweet kiss on your lips. 

“I could get used to this.” He murmurs, the words spoken against your lips as if he's unwilling to draw away for even a second.

“Me doing your hair?” 

He shakes his head.

“Waking up with you.” You blush at his words, feeling like you might melt on the spot. “Is- is there any way you could still keep your job with us?” He asks hesitantly and shit you’d forgotten all about the fact that you’d put in your notice. 

“I’m sure I could call and get things straightened out. There’s a chance they haven’t found anyone else yet.” You pray that you can stay. You'll beg on your hands and knees if you have to.

“Good.” Jake squeezes your arm once and then exits the bathroom, walking over to where his clothes from the night before still lay on the floor. 

You watch him go, your heart feeling suddenly so full that it might burst. You and him still have many things to talk about – conversations that have to happen at some point. But right now? Nothing has ever felt easier than going about your morning routine with him. Jake turns to look over his shoulder at you, tilting his head. 

“What?”

You just shake your head and laugh a little at yourself. 

“Nothing. It’s just-” it sounds stupid to say out loud but you say it anyway. “Just feel like I’ve waited my whole life for this.”

His smile is like looking at the sun – bright and radiant. He abandons his clothes once again to come stand in front of you. He reaches out, his hands finding yours and interlocking your fingers together. 

“You’re everything I’ve been looking for, Sunflower,” he tells you softly, “and I think I just got the perfect idea for some lyrics.” 

//

Fin

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･

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Tags: @jakeyt @demolitionndann @brujamagik @mybussyinchrist @writingcold @sinsofstardust @jjwasneverhere @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @wildbluesorbit @twistedmelodies @neverwanttofallasleep @sunandthemoontwinflames @clairesjointshurt @mindastreamofcolours @hellowgoodbye @gretasfallingsky @weightofkiszka @gvfmelbourne @smoking-jakelane @joshskittytickler @itsafullmoon @mackalah @sinarainbows @dannys-dream @lipstickitty @thewritingbeforesunrise @isabelgvf @sparrowofrhiannon @jakesguitarsolo @peaceloveunitygvf @kashmirclam @stardust-chordsss @gold-mines-melting @kenobicoffee @spark-my-nature @love-isnt-greed @jakeygvf21 @jaketlove @starcatcherjake @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vera-vestia @gvfpal @myleftsock @thetroublegetssoloud71 @anthemheatwave @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigs @dannywagnerschoppedhair @its-interesting-van-kleep

[liyawritesss]

ᴄᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ!ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

Characters: College!Spider-Verse!Miles Morales 

Type: headcanons

Synopsis: What would our lovely boy Miles be like as a grown up college student? Does he change or does he still keep his dorky, boyish demeanor?

A/N: HAPPY JUNETEENTH TO MY FELLOW NEGROS!!! In honor of Juneteenth and the release of ATSV, I'm dumping some headanons on yall, and I'm so proud of how these turned out. I was talking with my friend how we heavily believed that we would see a grown up Miles but when we found out only a year passed in Miles’ timeline for him, the topic of college!Miles came up. So these headcanons are pretty much a product of how we thought miles would be as a college student around our age.

Note: the first pic is of Shameik Moore, I just used a cartoon filter over it to try and make it look like the art style in the spiderverse franchise. The third one is not Shameik Moore but I use the same cartoon filter over it for the same effect

Warnings: Some cursing but that’s about it. KEEP IT CUTE PG-16 CUZ THIS IS NEPHEW WE TALKIN' BOUT HERE!!!

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @venusdraco @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22

Sign Up For My Taglist Here!

College!Miles isn’t a complete one-eighty of his mid-teen self, but rather, he builds on the defining attributes of his youth and matures them. He’s still pretty self-effacing, modest and humble, but he’s more confident in himself and the man he wants to become. He’s selfless and courageous and loving to a fault, and anyone who’s anyone who has been in his presence can say that Miles is a great person all around.

College!Miles ends up going to study in New Jersey, majoring in Physics Engineering, but also minoring in African Psychology on the track for social work. He knows that he can only do so much good behind his Spiderman mask, and believes that he should also be putting in the work when he isn’t wearing it. It’s an obligation for him to put his best food forward for his community and his people.

College!Miles who mixes his style with 90’s black streetwear and modern day. He’s a sneakerhead, so his dorm room gradually accumulates with boxes upon boxes of shoes damn near reaching the ceiling. His room back home is much worse though (Rio can’t even clean his room anymore because everywhere she looks, it’s a box of shoes chucked somewhere. Mama has given up lmao). And similar to the first outfit we see him in in ATSV, he loves the sports-jersey-over-solid-color-shirt combo, but has a decent amount of hoodies and tee’s both graphic and plain, that he likes to throw on with a pair of jeans and shoes. He knows how to dress, and he knows that he looks good in what he wears too.

College!Miles who never steps out the house without a chain on. He’s got two specific ones that he wears primarily - a silver cuban link his parents got him for his eighteenth birthday that he wears daily, and a gold snake chain that he bought for himself with his first check from his first big boy job. There are other necklaces that he has that he’ll throw on it he wants to switch things up. He’s not a big fan of things on his wrist (he’s gotten too used to the web shooters that everything else just feels funny or wrong), but he has a watch that he only wears to be fancy and a couple of rings that go on his middle or forefingers. He also has a few pairs of studded earrings he switches between every now and then to keep up a fresh look.

College!Miles who starts to take special care in his appearance as he reaches his late teen years. He can only go to his mom when he’s on breaks or vacation when he travels back to Brooklyn, but he’s learned enough from Rio to do his own line-ups and touch ups to make him look decent. It took him a minute to get used to doing it on his own, but he was adamant on learning because he was firm on not letting anyone else into his head besides his mother. He’d recently gotten into cutting slits into his eyebrows too, as they make him feel super cool

College!Miles who knows he’s got girls & guys coming left and right waiting for the opportunity to get with him, but as much as he’s a loverboy, he’s also very intentional with how he moves and is very perceptive of people (his Spidey senses enhance it a lot more than what he wishes sometimes) that he peeps that a lot of them are only attracted to his looks. He doesn’t date for the first few semesters of college, and when his parents ask if he’s gonna bring someone home soon, he tells them that he’s too busy making gateways to dimensions to open the gateways to dating

College!Miles whose love for hip hop never dies over the years. Instead it seems to grow. He adds a few new artists to her playlist - JID, Young M.A., Tobe Nwigwe, & Kendrick Lamar from the hip hop and rap scenes (Miles uses many of Tobe’s songs as hype music to gas himself up). Though he’s also found an appreciation for other genres, like R&B and Neo-Soul. Some of these artists include but are not limited to: H.E.R., UMI, Ari Lennox, and Bryson Tiller.

College!Miles who still holds on to his art as a hobby and destresser from his many classes and double-identity. His street art follows him wherever he goes, tagging new places that have people wondering who the hell made it all the way up there to tag that. There’s a secret pride that swells in him when he sees passersby admiring the artwork.

College!Miles who, when the world gets too much and he feels like everythings going wrong, he climbs the tallest building he can find and just watches the sunrise or sunset. He lets the breathtaking view ease his mind and the warm sun soothe his worries away. Being so high up and away from people allows him to actually think about the troubles that plague him, so when he comes back down, he can address them accordingly

College!Miles who’s still very much a momma’s boy. He calls Rio almost every day, either to just talk or to rant about something silly. She’ll put him on speaker for Jefferson to hear and just looks at her husband like “Listen to your son” when he’s being silly. But it’s so sweet that Miles always has his parents on his mind when he’s away at school. He also calls his dad to have ‘guy talk’, which ain’t nothing but Miles and Jefferson either talking about sports, his academics (which Jeff is really supportive of, even if he doesn’t understand the physics part, he loves to hear his sons ideas on the psychology minor he’s taken on) or random funny shit the guys that they hang around do every day.

College!Miles who grows more confident in his Spanish and uses it more and more in his day-to-day life. He’ll speak it when he’s talking to himself, when he’s angry or if he’s hurt himself (which happens the same amount of times as it did when he was a teen), or he’ll try and surprise his mom with a conversation in complete Spanish (which he does succeed in sometimes).

College!Miles who’s barely changed from the loveable boy who we all know and love as a teen. He just grew some more and became cooler, but he still radiates the same dorky, intelligent, and loving energy he’s always had.

[miralure]

New Simblr Introduction ♡

Although I've had this account for about a month now, I guess I can still be considered a "new simblr" because I'm relatively small, and when I did this the first time Tumblr didn't show me in tags so I didn't get any reach... So here we go again!

Basic Information:

Name: Lauren Age: Young adult (18) Aspiration: Computer Whiz Traits: Family Oriented, Overachiever, Loyal, Music Lover, Childish Job: Tech Guru Simself: Pictured above

I've been playing Sims since 2016 and was inspired by simtubers and simblrs like @farfallasims, @pixelglam, @marilynjeansims @largetaytertots and @oshinsimblr to create my own Simblr and share my work.

I am a heavy modder and CC user, and use maxis-mix CC. I would consider my gameplay style cozy and I usually play happy family dynamics. However, I'm very open minded and love to see other gameplay styles!

I (used to) play sims on a 2020 Macbook and have taken years to work out how to make it run decently with minimal lag and good graphics. Now I play on a shitty Lenovo Z13 ThinkPad which gives me the ability to use shaders! NOW I play on an Asus Zenbook 14 which is amazing!! (Let’s ignore that I went through 3 computers since I’ve had this account)

On my account, you'll see CAS screenshots, lookbooks, sim dumps, CC recommendations, photoshop tutorials, gameplay photos and more! I am very WCIF friendly so if you ever want to ask a question I'm more than happy to answer it. Also, sim requests are always open! :) Just send an ask (for WCIF and requests)

There will never be any NSFW content on my page, and as a general thing please don't expect a follow back if your page is full of sexually explicit content.

I would really really love to find new active mutuals and friends!! I am always always looking for new mutuals so if you’re an active simblr I'll follow back (I'm a good mutual, I'll like and comment [and rb] anything you post). And if you ever wanna chat, just DM me because I'd love to talk :)

Please, feel free to like, comment, follow and reblog this post (help a gal out)

[crow-girl-cock]

Hai :7

I love you!

yes you!

click this.

now for introduction.

my name is Renée Corbeau

but you can call me ren or crow

I love crows! they feel like family to me and I hope next cycle I get to experience the life of a crow.

I have gone through alot in life and fancy myself some sort of activist by proxy of that pain, am I perfect? fuck no! I am still learning and probably operate under toxic bias still despite all the effort I have put into growth.

I'm adhd, autistic, anxious, depressive, dissociative, probably some degree of plurality.

I'm a gender non-conforming transwoman, definitely puppy coded, and severely down bad for women, especially butch women!

that being said the human body is beautiful. especially fat bodies, I'm a sucker for meat :3

all my guys, gals, and non binary pals deserve kisses (assuming that they want them)

I love gender fuckery, people who actively blur those lines are doing the lords work.

despite being very friendly and appearing slightly outgoing sometimes, I am very shy and dont have a very large social battery.

if I ever dont respond dont take it personally there are loads of reasons why this could be.

U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U U⁠^ᴥ^⁠U

I am kind of a red mage when it comes to special interests, I know a little bit about alot.

(all lists are not ordered and not exhaustive)

some examples include;

from gaming~ pokemon, zelda, elderscrolls, darksouls, minecraft, osu!, space sims (elite dangerous, astroneer, dyson sphere project, hardspaceshipbreaker), roguelikes (noita, deadcells, gungeon, vagante, slaythespire)

from other media~ pokemon again, bluey, adventure time, atla, bee and puppycat, studio ghibli (nausicaa is goat), csm, bleach, dragonball, naruto, she-ra, dungeon meshi

from *gasps* real life~

space (and metaphysics), nature (it's peculiarities and the many funky adorable little guys born in it) I'm definitely a poser but skateboarding and rollerskating (I really want to get into rollerderby) philosophy (to the extent that any skid is);

History!

(not as well read as I would like because there is so much of it, and so much of the truth is buried under misinformation, but I have deconstructed the whole western myth of how things went and painted myself a much clearer picture as to how things got so bad and am learning new things about the world all the time, please feel free to info dump about anything history related I'd love to hear it. anthropology and archaeology too obvs)

Art!

(this is my chosen field for better or worse >⁠.⁠< I am going to college for web and graphic design (2024-2026) I might extend that an extra 2 years to make it a bachelor of design and hope to one day make graphic novels, beautifully illustrated with deep thought provoking stories)

໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ ૮꒰՞⸝⸝- ༝ -⸝⸝꒱ა ໒꒰՞⸝⸝. ̫ .ܸ⸝⸝ ꒱ა

Kink! (definitely subject to change)

petplay, musk, intox, bondage, impact, cnc, degradation, somno, hypno, blood, knives, size difference probably more I haven't thought of

I'm poly and very t4t

I'm a switch but this hellsite has been steadily turning me into a bottom day by day heheh

but no actually

I used to be a hypersexual dom pre-transition

but E has made me alot less uncontrollably horny and far more sensitive and inclined to seek vulnerability, all my drive to dom has dissolved

also I suck at tagging and will sometimes will reblog art/random things from tags without checking bios

if that upsets you or makes you uncomfortable please see the block button for more info ;3c

.��. .♡. .♡.

anyways since you made it this far

here have some headpats

spread kindness please and thank you ^v^

As above, So below.

Hai :7

I love you!

yes you!

[yonpote]

actually i AM gonna talk abt dan's fashion expenses outside of tags fuck it and im gonna be 100% forreal about this and idc if the bants about his $300 pants are mostly jokes

yall know about what happens with fast fashion right. it's all cheaply made by people trapped in sweatshops and factories all day for little to no pay, and when a fashion cycle or season is over, all of the unsold clothes get dumped onto the shores of a country that has been cast as lesser by societies that continue to benefit from colonization and slavery despite acting like we're somehow above it. and of course thats not even accounting for clothes that end up in trash landfills, just all this fuckin waste that goes into letting a t shirt be $15USD.

and like okay. no, dan buying $300 parachute pants isn't singlehandedly saving the world, and no, phil buying $10 graphic tees isn't singlehandedly killing it. but still it bugs me AND I KNOW ITS A JOKE HAHA SO FUNNY BUT LIKE IT BUGS MEEEE when ppl are like "xD dan howell participating in capitalism by buying expensive clothes" when its like, ok he's buying from brands that nobody's heard of, who probably make clothes by order, and tbf i'm not 100% confident that the working conditions of the people who made dan's $300 pants are all super safe and sound and all of the workers are well-paid, but they're at the very least being paid. being paid more than a USD cent. and you're probably not going to see thousands of parachute pants piling up on a madagascan beach.

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Check ~ Chapter 20

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open! Also, so sorry to be behind on this one. Life got in the way for awhile but I'm back!

A/N 2: This chapter has a sister chapter in my other fanfic "Troublemaker". You can check out that out here.

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: Chapter 19 - Oh Good, You're Home

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 20 – When Two Becomes Three 

Leia 

I’m scared.  

So fucking scared.  

The doctors and nurses are talking to each other as they push my gurney to the operating room. Jeremy catches up to us and takes my hand.  We get to the doors and one of nurses stops Jeremy. “We’re going to get her set up and then bring you in.”  

He nods and looks down at me. “See you in a minute.”  

I keep my eyes on him for as long as possible before the doors closed. They move me into position and drape a barrier between my head and my belly. I hear the door creak open and then I see Jeremy all masked up. “Jeremy,” I say and can feel a tear fall.  

“Hey, everything is still okay. I won’t leave.” He leans over and kisses my forehead. “You’re still the strongest woman I know.”  

“Andy’s going to miss it,” I whisper.  

“I know.”  

“He’s going to hate us.”  

“No, he won’t. He’ll be happy that you and the baby are healthy and safe. Don’t think like that.” He thumbs my tears away. “Don’t cry, he wouldn’t want you to cry.”  

“Ok, let’s get started,” the doctor says.  The phone rings right before and a nurse answers. “Yes? Oh okay, send him up.”  She leans over to speak to the doctor.  

The doctor’s eyes crinkle and she look over at me. “I’ve got a surprise for you.” 

Andy 

Three Hours Earlier 

Morning skate on game day are always light. We never want to expend all of our energy before a game, it's just to get our legs loose from the day before and sleep. I’m excited but a little nervous. I wasn’t expecting Leia to be left alone while I was gone.  I get it, Miranda has a job to do, but it made me nervous. At least until I talked to my girl.  She was bubbly and happy over the phone last night. It calmed me down.  

“Heads up!” Luke ices me as he comes to stop and I laugh, wiping the snow away from my face.  

“Asshole!” I smack his ass with my stick as he skates away. I move to do my laps and shoot at the net occasionally. We have a rookie in net, taking shots as backup to Linus Ullmark since Jeremy is out with a concussion.  I’m talking with the kid when I hear Coach call mine and Luke’s name.  I snap my head up and he waves us over.  I skate to him. “What’s up?” 

“Get your shit together and get to the airport.  Leia is in labor.”   

The world around me stops. She’s in labor. “But she’s early,” I say. This can’t be happening. I’m supposed to be there to hold her hand. To see my daughter being brought into the world,  

“Just go,” Coach orders. “Jeremy is driving her there. Sway, keep us updated.” 

Luke guides me off the ice as Coach informs the team about what’s happening.  “Luke, I...” 

“Don’t freak, just get dressed and grab your phone and wallet. I’ll have the guys grab our stuff from the hotel.” Luke turned to walk back through the tunnel to the ice.  I changed and then call Leia, but she doesn’t answer. No, I have to speak to her, or I am going to lose my mind.  

One of the team coordinators tell us that we have a private plane waiting for us and we take off in a company car. My leg is bouncing in the car, staring at my phone. I try to call again. “Come on baby, pick up the phone.” 

Luke’s phone rings. “It’s Jeremy,” he tells me.  “Hey, let me put you on speaker.” Luke turns it and I can hear Jeremy.  

“Hey, sorry, I saw you calling but Leia’s been having some intense contractions.  The doctor is with her now. I don’t know how much longer she’ll be in labor.”  

“Jeremy, is she in a lot of pain?” I ask.  

“Yeah,” I close my eyes at his response. “They are going to give her a shot or something. She asked me to stay with her.”  

“Ok, don’t leave her alone. We’ll be in the air within the next 20 minutes and we are about two hours away. Jeremy,” I took a breath, “please take care of my family.”  

“I will Andy, I promise.”  

I hang up as we pull into the private terminal. Climbing the stairs, the captain greets us. “Mr. Barber, Mr. Andrews, management informed me of the situation. I’ll get you to Boston as soon as possible.”  

“Thank you.” I took a seat and just stared out the window. My mind was fully on Leia. Our daughter is early, and I don’t know if she is in distress. My mind runs through all the different complications that were in all the baby books I had read. My brow started sweating as I thought of preeclampsia and cord asphyxiation.  

“Andy, take a breath for me.” Luke grabbed my shoulder and I turned to look at him. “C’mon buddy, breathe.”  

“She’s alone and she’s giving birth to my baby and what if everything goes wrong?” I could feel myself panicking and I couldn’t stop it.  

“Whoa, hey, she is not alone. Jeremy is there and while I’ve had my issues with him, he has proven to be a good man. He won’t let anything happen to her if he can.”  

“Luke, why do I feel like this? I’m terrified.”  

Luke smiled. “Because you’re about to be a dad. Soon, you will have two girls to take care of.  They are going to love you so much.” He patted my back before he went back on his phone.  

He’s right. I will have my girls to take care of from now on. And a thought runs through my head. Because, while everyone knows me to be that little girl’s dad, biologically, she isn’t mine.  That isn’t something I had talked to Leia about. And then I thought about the fact that I don’t have any legal rights to take of Leia if something were to happen. I would die if something happened to her.  

But we’ve only been dating for a few months. Though I’ve known her for the better part of 25 years. She’s my best friend for a reason.  She knows me and I know her. And I want to be in her life forever.  

And I know now what I need to do.  

“Hey Luke?” 

“Yeah bro.”  

“You know I love Leia, right?” 

“Duh.” He rolls his eyes.  

“Right. Well, do you think that it would be ok to ask her to marry me?” 

I probably should have timed that better as he was sipping a water when I said that. He sputtered and choked. I patted his back until the red color faded from his face. “You’ve only been together for a couple of months.”  

“Three and we’ve been living together for seven and have been friends since she was born. She’s it, man. She’s the one I have been wanting, who make me the best version of me. I love her and I want to make her my wife. I want to legally adopt our baby and be a family, spiritually and legally.”  

Luke goes quiet for a few minutes as I go back to staring out the window. “Why ask me?” 

I turn back to him. “Luke, you are her family and while I’m not really asking for your permission, I do want your blessing.”  

“Do you have a ring?” 

“Not yet. I was just thinking that I don’t really have rights over Leia, or the baby and I needed to fix that. The first thing I need to do is make her mine, legally. But I know she will never do it if she doesn’t have your blessing.”  

Luke nods. “You’ll still let me crash at your place and let me visit my sister?” 

“When Miranda gets pissed, you can hide at our place.” I chuckle a little. “So...” 

“I’ve always thought of you as a brother.” He sighs. “Just making it a legal thing.” He smiles. “Yeah, you have my blessing.” We awkwardly hug in our seats. 

I start looking at rings online, just to get an idea of what I want and prices when the captain announces our descent into Logan. I take a breath and hope that we are still in time.  

After landing and getting into the private car the team sent, we raced through the street of Boston. As we pulled into the entrance of the hospital, I got a message from Jeremy.  

Jeremy: they need to do an emergency c-section.  They are moving her now.  

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The car barely stops when I’m running out the door.  “For Leia Andrews?” I ask at the nurse's station 

“Labor and Delivery 5th floor.”  

“Thanks.” I turn to run but the nurse yells. “Sir, I’m sorry but she’s been taken in for an...” 

“I know. But she’s my fiancé and I need to get to her.”  

“Hang on.” She dials a number and speaks to whomever.  She hangs up and grabs a plastic bag with a blue cloth in it.  “Follow me.”  

She walks as Luke and I follow her. “We already have someone in there with her but since your doctor is a big fan, she’s going to allow two. You need to put this on with the hat, mask and gloves right now.” The elevator opens and we climb in as she pushes for the floor.  I pull on the gown and hat and gloves as she ties the straps around me. “Mr. Andrews, I will walk you to the waiting room after to drop off Mr. Barber.“ Luke nods. We get to the floor and see directs me to the right room. 

I take a breath and push my way in. “Oh, good, Andy, you made it.”  I can hear Dr. Montgomery, but I can’t see her.  

“Hey doc.”  

“Andy!” I hear the gasp of my girl and see her turn her head to the left. She has tears in her eyes. “You made it.”  

“I said I would, my queen.” I look up and see Jeremy in scrubs and a surgical hat on her right. “Thank you.” 

“No problem.”  

“Alright folks, let’s get this baby out. Scalpel,” Dr. Montgomery orders.  

“What happened, baby?” I look at her and the tears silently fall. I lean over and kiss her forehead.  

“Her heart rate dropped, and they made me lay on my side to help but it didn’t, so they rushed us over here,” she explains. “I’m sorry Andy, I tried to protect her and...” 

“No, sweetheart, you did a fantastic job. Maybe she’s just being difficult, like you.”  

Jeremy snorts and then coughs while Leia scoffs. “I am not difficult.”  

“And baby is out and it’s a girl,” the doctor calls out.  But then it’s silent except for the beeps of the machines.  

“She's not crying. Andy, she’s not crying.” The look of panic made her eyes search wildly for her baby.  

“I know. Doc?” I saw them move the baby to the incubator that was waiting. She was surrounded by five people, working on my little girl.  

“Andy, Leia, the baby is...” 

And then we heard it, the most magical, joyous noise you could ever hear.  

Our baby crying.  

“Oh, thank God,” I said as I pressed a kiss to Leia’s forehead.  

“I was going to say, baby was having some difficulty. They are going to take the baby to the PICU for some test and observation. I’m going to stay to close.”  

“Can I go with her?” I ask.  

“I’m sorry Andy, but until they know she is stable, they won’t allow it right now. But Dr. Peters will keep you updated.”  

“I think I am going to step out,” Jeremy said.  “Great job mama. I’ll be in the waiting room.” He left and I stayed by Leia’s head.  

“She has to be ok, right? She has to be,” Leia kept repeating softly as tears rolled down her face.  

I tried to distract her. “Have you decided on a name for the Princess?  We can’t keep calling her that or the Baby forever.  She’ll get a complex.”  

“Shut up,” Leia said a watery giggle. “I really like Nora.”  

“I like Avery or Jamie.” I kept running my hand over her cap. “I guess we can wait until we see her.”  

I felt Leia tremble. “Are we going to see her?” 

“Of course we are. Love, she’s going to be ok. You have to believe that because otherwise, we’re just putting bad juju out there.  It's like say, ‘we might win the cup.’ No, we will win the cup. Positivity.”  

“If I could move, I would hit you, Andrew Barber.”  

We were in the operating room for another thirty minutes and then moved to the recovery room. Leia fell asleep from the pain relievers that she was given, and I was just pacing back and forth, waiting for news on my daughter.  An hour later, the pedestrian, came in. “Mr. Barber?” 

I turned to him and paled. “Yes?” 

“Do you want to wake Mrs. Barber?”  

Mrs. Barber. As much as I like the sound of that, it wasn’t the time. “Leia, sweetheart? The baby’s doctor’s is here.” Her eyes fluttered a little and blinked open softly. A smile started to grace her face when the realization of my words hit. Panic filled them but before she could speak, I took her hands. “Everything is ok, please relax.” She nodded and turned to the other man in the room. I sat next to her on the bed and nodded at the doctor.  

He smiled.  “He’s right.  Baby Andrews-Barber is going to be fine.”  

It felt like the pressure on my chest lifted and I could breathe for the first time in hours.  

“She had some fluid stuck in her mouth, which is why she couldn’t cry.  We cleared it, made sure there were no lingering fluid or obstructions.  She pinked up as soon as we had her in the PICU.  I’m recommending that you both stay here for a couple of days just to make sure.”  

“Can we see her?” 

“I’m having the nurse bring her in a few minutes. I just want to explain everything before you see her. She does have a tube in her nose and that’s just a precaution for the fluid.  We’ll probably remove that tomorrow.”  

Leia wept into my side, the stress of everything finally coming to an end. I kissed her head. “Thank you, doctor, so much.”  

“My pleasure. I’ll be back to check on her later tonight.” He walked out and I held onto Leia tighter. The door opened again, and a bassinet came through the door with a nurse. “Hi mom and dad. I have someone that would like to meet you.” She pushed the bassinet right next to Leia’s bed. She lifted her out and handed her to Leia. “Just be careful of the line. It's not connected to anything, but we don’t want to pull it out.” She laid the little pink bundle in her arms.  

Dark lashes caressed her cheek, espresso color hair peeked from beneath a pink cap. Her pink skin glowed and she had a perfect rosebud pout.  She wiggles a little and blinked, displaying Leia’s green eyes copied into her own.  

“She’s perfect,” Leia whispered. “Hi baby, we waited for so long for you.“ She kissed her head, “Andy, she’s here.”  

“She is.” I wiped at my own eyes. “You did a great job, Leia. She’s beautiful.”  

We stared at her for a few minutes before Leia said, “Avery.”  

“What?” 

“Avery Nora Barber. That’s her name.”  

“No Andrews?” 

“No, she’s yours, Andy, She’s a Barber.” She held her out to me so I could hold my daughter for the first time.  She was light in my arms but all I felt was joy.  

And I fell in love. 

“Hi Avery, I’m... I’m your daddy.” A tear fell onto her blanket as I realized I would do anything for this tiny human in my arms. That she and her mother were the center of my world without even trying. “Thank you, Leia.” 

We spent an hour together before Leia told me to take Avery to meet her uncles. I took her in my arms and went out to the waiting room.  When the doors swung open, Luke and Jeremy stood up. "Guys, meet my daughter,” I said with teary pride.  

Luke took the bundle and cooed at his niece. Jeremy peeked over his shoulder. “She’s beautiful Andy. Congratulations.”  

“Thanks Jer. Fuck, thanks for being here with her.” I shook his hand before I pulled him into a hug. “I was calm because I knew she was in good hands.”  I wipe the tears from my eyes.  “Wanna hold her, Uncle Jeremy?” 

He took the little miracle in his arms. “She’s got her mama’s hair and looks like Leia.” He smiles and kiss her forehead.  

“Welcome to the world, Avery Nora Barber.” 

NEXT

Taglist:

@patzammit @texmexdarling @slutforchrisjamalevans @firephotogrl74 @tinkerbelle67 @before-we-get-started @bunnyforhim @alexakeyloveloki @sunnyhummingbee @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @peaceinourtime82 @saucy-sassy-sparkly @kmc1989 @kandis-mom @lokislady82

[bleach-your-panties]

toji, the dick-slinging slasher 🍆💦 🔪❗️- toji fushiguro x fem reader 

🍔: first jjk fic EVER and it's crack lmao.

🍔: this was too good for me not to write

🔪: prompts from the wheel of misfortune, i can't help myself

🔪: includes horror prompt from beyond the grave & kink prompts sir kink, clothed sex, filming/recording, food play, & size kink 

🔪tagging: @bastardblvd, please don't kick me out of town for this mess of a fic 🤣😭

🍟:4.0k words

🍟:warnings: crack, slightly dubcon, non-penetrative sex?, cursing, dirty talk, spitting, age-gap (reader is early 20's, Toji is..undead) & spongebob dialogue. reader is squidward, basically.

🍟: this is not to be taken seriously! mcdonalds!manager!aki and denji from grimetown make appearances.

🍟: loosely based on my experience working in fast food.

🍟: banner made by me on pic collage

🍟: dividers by @/firefly-graphics

"Finally. 10 pm." You let out a deep sigh of exhaustion.

You had just finished mopping the entire lobby over again after a group of late-night stragglers  had came in and ordered twenty McDoubles, extra pickles. What a strange order.

One of them even tried to get into a verbal altercation with you because he claimed that his sandwiches had no pickles and accused you of not giving him any. 

You don't even work the fucking line; you're a cashier, for Christ's sake, even if you’re in the process of being cross-trained.

After dumping the dark, murky mop water outside the front door, you began to roll the bucket back to its designated area in the back of house.

Back there, Denji, your manager's weird associate, was picking at the leftover food from the dinner rush like a scavenging raccoon.

"You're not supposed to be back here." You gave him a deadpan look. 

"You're not supposed to be back here," He mocked you, "Fuck that, I'm starving." 

"Then go home and make something to eat?" 

"Nah, this'll do." He unwrapped a McChicken that had probably been sitting there since lunchtime.

"You're about to have diarrhea out of this world." 

He just shrugged.

You went on about your business with your other little housekeeping duties then took off your headset and nametag once you were done.

God, I hate this job.

You'd just finished university a week ago and upon your rejection of your dream graduate school, you ended up having to move back to Grimetown and live with your parents.

Your old-fashioned parents who don't believe in their grown children moving back home unless they have a job.

So here you are. Working at Mcdonald's with a fresh bachelor's degree under your belt.

"I'm going home. Later, Dingy." You pulled on your coat and grabbed your purse.

"Alright, and it's Denji." 

"That's what I said, 'innit? Peace out."

Denji rolled his eyes at you just as Aki came out of the office. "Hold your horses, Y/N. Where do you think you're going?"

You froze, hand poised to open the door.

"Uh, home? It's almost ten-thirty." 

Aki pulled a cigarette from under his hat, turned one of the grills on to light it, and then stuck it between his thin lips.

"No, you're not. I've decided that I'm going to keep the store open 24 hours now. More money for me-I mean you. Money for you."

You gave him an incredulous look and removed your hand from the door handle. 

"What?! This place is a shithole, it's not built to run 24 hours!" 

As you said this, the lights started flickering.

"See!"

"Denji, stop that!" 

"Sorry."

Aki looked about ready to give up on life but he shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. 

"Anyway, here's the keys. You'll switch out with the morning shift at 6 am. Have fun. Don't burn the place down, no matter how tempting it may be."

You didn't know what to do, so you just stood there with your mouth open.

"I can't believe this shit! You can't just leave me here by myself all night!" Snapping out of your little trance, you followed after the dark-haired man.

Aki turned his body halfway to meet your gaze, half-smoked cigarette still between his lips.

“You won’t be by yourself. Denji is here with you.” As if that was supposed to put you at ease.

“What? You can’t leave me here with him; he doesn’t even work here!”

Denji hopped down from the counter and strutted over to the two of you, chest poked out.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Y/N. I’ll take good care of you~” He then smirked as his eyes trailed over your body in your too-tight uniform shirt and pants.

You swear that bastard Aki purposefully ordered your garments two sizes too small, causing you to have to literally squeeze your assets into the God-forsaken red shirt and black pants every other day.

"You stay away from me." You pointed an acrylic fingernail at Denji without taking your eyes off of Aki.

"No way you can leave me here with Dumbass all night."

"It's Denji."

"That's what I said."

"Oh, but I can. You stay or you're fired. Simple as that. See you later!" He attempted to give you both a half-hearted wave, but you grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. 

"Where are you going?" 

Aki looked at you befuddled - are you actually whining?

He gently brushed you off of him and removed the cigarette from between his lips. 

“I’m going home - where else? I have a life.”

"I have a life, too, ya know!" 

Denji snickered. "How can you? You live with your parents."

“You shut up! No one asked you!” You retorted before sulking off to the back again.

_____

Toji didn’t know how to feel after he was killed by Gojo.

He thought that he’d at least go straight to hell, but apparently, that didn’t happen. Now here he was, in the middle of some…weird ass town in a shitty graveyard where the tombstones were poorly maintained. Damn, did anyone in this piece of shit town even tend to their dearly departed?

“This shit sucks…” Toji complained as he pulled himself out of a shallow grave that someone must have dug and threw him in unceremoniously. After brushing the dirt off his broad shoulders with his one good hand (only hand), he stretched it above his head and yawned.

The town ahead of him was dark, with only a few lights on of some apartment buildings, houses, and businesses that were crazy enough to run their power bills up by staying open all damn night long.

Like one certain McDonald’s….

_____

“Hey, Y/N, look at me! I’m uploading thirst traps to my Instagram story…at night.” Denji winked at you and clicked his tongue, waving his iPhone in his hand.“When else would you upload them, Dumbfuck?” You replied blandly as you lazily flipped through a magazine.”Whoever is thirsting over you is clearly blind or just desperate.” You added.

“Oh, that’s harsh.” He frowned. The two of you were just sitting around, bored out of your minds. No customers had entered the store since Aki left forty-five minutes ago.

Denji paraded around the table you were sitting at, chanting about different tasks that he was doing on his phone…at night.

Then suddenly…

Silence.

“Hey, Y/N, wanna hear a scary story?”

Silence over.

“No, but I know that you’re going to tell me anyway, so let’s hear it.” You rolled your eyes and closed the magazine, now giving the blonde your full attention.

"Okay, so-"

The bell over the door rang and in walked a customer, whistling happily.

"Good evening! I'd like to make an order!"

Both you and Denji stared at him for a long while until you finally decided to peel yourself out of the red leather booth and head to the cash register.

"What can I get for you tonight, sir?" 

"One Big Mac Meal, please, extra onions on that. Oh, are the fries fresh?" 

You looked behind him at the clock on the wall: 11:25 pm.

"No," You stated dryly, "will that be all for you?" 

The man gulped nervously at your lackluster expression and less-than-enthused tone and nodded.

"$8.35."

____

After the customer was situated at a table and munching his food happily, Denji continued with his story.

“As I was saying. The legend of Toji, the Dick-Slinging Slasher.”

You had to hold back from spitting some of your orange Hi-C right into his ridiculous face.

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘dick-slinging?!”

“That’s what I said, yeah.” Denji nodded, not phased by your outburst. 

“Legend has it, that on dark, cloudy nights, much like this one, he stalks the neighborhood looking for unsuspecting bitches to rob.”

“Okay, and that’s scary, because? Sounds like an average day in Grimetown.” You snorted.

"Be serious for one second, Y/N!" He slapped his palms down on your table.

Who is he to tell someone to be serious?

"Alright, alright, I'm listening."

Denji continued, "In his past life, he was a nothing-ass-bitch and deadbeat father who went around stealing from people or assassinating them for money." 

"He got killed by this super overpowered albino that he failed to assassinate and then after that, no one knows what happened to him. I heard that some teens from Grimetown High threw his ass in a ditch as a dare and that's where he's buried to this day."

You couldn't help but bust out laughing; this was the dumbest story that you'd ever heard!

"Denji…I'm still failing to see how this story is supposed to be scary…" 

"Well, when the albino killed him, he mutilated the entire left side of Toji's body, leaving a big ass gaping hole and Toji with only one arm. That doesn't stop him from slinging his community dick to all the unsuspecting bad bitches, though."  

'Okay, this is idiotic. I'm checking out.' You shook your head and got up with your cup, dumping the leftover ice down the drink fountain’s drain.

“Heed my warnings, Y/N! When the clock strikes midnight, he’ll come for you! Guard your booty!” Denji wiggled his fingers and made moaning noises that sounded more…pornographic than ghostly.

“Yeah, alright. I’m going to dust the drive-thru windows.”

____

12:00 AM, Midnight

So those clouds turned out to be storm clouds full of rain that was soon pounding down onto the miserable roof of your little establishment. The roof was leaking in a few places because Aki was too lazy to call the contractors to come and look at it.

“I swear, what is he even good for besides secondhand smoke and micromanaging everybody?” You groaned, placing yet another bucket under a leaking spot.

A loud crack of thunder sounded, and then everything went black.

“Denji!”

“It wasn’t me that time!” 

A few seconds later, said blonde came from the back carrying a heavy-duty flashlight.

“The power’s out. I tried tripping the breaker but got nothing.” 

“Isn’t there a backup generator here?” You asked and he just shrugged.

“Don’t ask me; I don’t work here.”

With a loud groan, you went to grab your cell phone out of your bag to call Aki.

No signal.

“Oh, you’re fucking kidding.”

You replaced the rectangular device inside your bag and retreated to the lobby where Denji was.

The thunder roared louder and the rain pattered harder against the roof and the glass windows.

“Hey Y/N?”

“What, Denji?” 

“This is kind of like the story, right? The perfect setting for Toji to show up.” You scoffed.

“Denji, that was just a stupid story. It’s not true at all! No one could survive with half of their body blasted away!!” You were just about at your wit’s end now, when the customer with the Big Mac came to the counter to ask you for ketchup.

“You’re still here?” Denji asked and the guy just looked at him. After he got his condiments, he packed up the rest of his meal and left, probably to get home and out of the rain.

The next few moments were spent in silence with the two of you trying to figure out how to get the power back up and running.

While Denji was in the back where the breaker box was, you were searching underneath the countertops for some sort of panic button or something.

CRASH!

Either Denji fell or a tree came down outside. You hoped it was the former, honestly.

Tap tap tap tap tap.

“Denji?! Is that you? Did you fall?” You whisper-shouted. You shined the flashlight on your phone to the back, trying to locate him.

“Fall?” 

Tap tap tap tap tap.

The lights began to flicker again and you jumped once you saw Denji suddenly standing beside you.

“Don’t do that! You almost scared me half to death, you dummy!”

“Sorry. Hey, what’s that tapping sound I keep hearing?” 

“Y-you mean…you weren’t doing that?”

SCREEEEEECHHHH!

Lightning flashed at the same time that the lights flickered back on.

At the front door, the tall outline of a burly man was standing there. His wet, dark hair splayed across his forehead and his eyes glowed a menacing red.

“IT’S T-THE D-D-...!” 

Denji’s body seized up as the man put his hand on the door and pushed it open, letting the pounding rain slosh and slide across the tiled floor. His slippered feet stomped through the puddles of water that were forming as he stalked his way toward the both of you. The little squish squish of his shoes through the water must’ve snapped Denji out of his little trance. He then looked at you as if realizing you were still there and in this predicament with him.

“Oh Y/N…I’m so honored that you went to all this trouble dressing up and using my own story to try and scare me! I knew that you liked me!” He chuckled, trying to convince himself that what he was seeing couldn’t be real.

Your mouth gaped open as you could only stare at the huge man coming towards you both now. Up close, he’s quite a looker. Deep, blue eyes, a cocky smirk set upon those handsome features, and a long, diamond-shaped scar at the corner of his mouth.

“Denji…there’s only two problems with your theory, there. I barely fucking know you, so how could I like you, and how could that be me when I’m standing right fucking here?!” You screamed at the idiotic blonde.

“Ah, what a noisy couple the two of you are. Making my fucking head spin.” Toji continued walking until he was right up on you. You had to crane your neck back to look up at his face. He looked right back down into your surprised one.

“You’re a cute one. Judging by that tight-ass uniform, I’m assuming that you work here?”

“Y/N, RUN! IT’S TOJI THE DICK-SLINGING SLASHER!”

Yeah, I think it’s a little too late for that now, don’t you think, Denji?

“Is that what I’m being called now? How lame.” Toji chuckled and before you could blink he kicked Denji into the wall.

“H-hey! Leave him alone, you one-armed prick!” You argued with a shake in your voice, which only amused Toji further.

“Prick? Where are your manners, you little brat? You’ll address me by sir and nothing else. You understand that, bitch?”

Denji groaned from where he was slumped against the wall.

"Sir? Fucking cringe. Next, he'll be expecting you to call him daddy."

Toji ignored Denji's comment and waited for your response. 

You opened your mouth a couple of times but no words came out.

Toji leaned his ear down to your mouth.

"Can't hear you, darling. What was that?"

"Y-yes sir."

He smirked and straightened his back.

"Good girl. Now, what do you serve here?"

"W-we serve food here, sir."

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes at you before looking above your head to the lighted menu. 

"Don't be a smartass."

He rubbed his thick fingers over his chin while he tried to decide on a meal.

"I think I'll have the Spicy McCrispy meal, hold the onions. Extra ketchup and pickles, large fry, and Diet Coke. Gotta keep it balanced." He chuckled to himself once he'd finished.

"Make sure you make it extra tender, juicy, and hot."

The bile began rising in your throat - both at his words and at the fact that you knew the oil that those crispy sandwiches were cooked in hadn't been changed in over a week.

"$10.96."

Toji stared at you blankly and you just returned it. You both stood there awkwardly staring at each other for a moment.

"$10.96?" You repeated.

"I…uh..left my wallet in my other sweatpants?"

You could feel the sweat dripping down the side of your forehead.

"Forget it. You'll pay for it with the insane amount of explosive diarrhea that you're going to have."

Toji chuckled nervously and leaned against the counter, watching you move around while you fixed his food.

He was instantly mesmerized by how much your ass still jiggled despite the tightness of your pants. 

"Here ya go." Your voice snapped him out of his perverted thoughts.

The tray of food looked surprisingly delicious, but you know that it's old and that the fries are cold and stiff.

Toji didn't care, though; he was just glad to have a meal.

He ate everything greedily, all the while never taking his eyes off of you.

When he finished, surprisingly, he dumped his trash in the bin and straightened up his area.

You had retreated to the back of house before he finished; with the power being restored, you could now focus on doing some other menial tasks that you'd only just now remembered.

"Hey…you! Leave Y/N alone!" Denji warned as he watched Toji begin to follow where you had gone.

"Fuck off, pipsqueak, or I'll kill you."

—

In the back, you'd started washing dishes and prepping some things for the morning staff.

The door separating the back of the house and the lobby swung open and then shut loudly behind you.

"Huh? You? What are you doing back here?"

"Hush now, darling; you wouldn't want your little friend out there to hear us now, would you?" 

"Who, Dickhead? He's not my fucking friend, not by a long shot. Doesn't mean I'd want you to kill him, though."

"You sure got a nasty mouth on you, little one. What, not afraid of me anymore?" 

The rusty blade of a sword made contact with the back of your neck.

"I mean, at this point, I was hoping that you were just a bad bout of indigestion, but that doesn't seem to be the case, now does it, gramps?" 

Toji could feel the left side of his face twitching: "Gramps?" 

You blinked once. "Yeah, gramps. You've probably been dead for ages now, so you're like somebody's rusty old great-great-grandpa."

"Rusty?!"

He pressed his crotch against your ass and let you feel his raging hard-on. Even through your pants, you could feel the weight and girth of his dick.

"Would someone who's considered to be 'rusty' be able to get this hard, baby girl?"

His one hand pushed down on your lower back, making you bend over the sink.

"Much better. 'Face down, ass up' suits you, darling."

Toji continued to rub his hard dick against the seat of your pants while making sure you stayed pressed against the sink.

A few soft moans of surprise escaped from your lips as he continued rutting against you.

"T-Toji.. " Your fingernails gripped the edge of the metal sink. His pelvis pushed against your ass and you bounced it back against him…

"Good girl, so fucking sexy." He growled, moving to grab a handful of your ponytail that peeked out of the hole in your McDonald's cap.

This continued for several minutes; Toji moving his hand between gripping your hair, holding your hip, rubbing his thick fingers over your clothed cunt, and smacking your ass.

This ordeal would have to take the cake of being the weirdest night of your life, with no competition.

"Fuck, Toji…this is so weird but hot…I think I'm going to cum…" 

He chuckled darkly, "So you get off to dry-fucking creepy old men after insulting them, eh? What a pompous, dirty, little slut you are, baby."

His movements got faster, making the sink rattle against its unstable position on the wall. 

Just as you were getting close to finishing in your panties, Toji flipped you around, making your back press against the sink painfully. 

You didn't have time to start a complaint though, because now he was slotting himself in between your legs. 

"Woah!"

You didn't know that your leg could stretch that far, but Toji stretched it until your black slip-resistant sneaker was behind your ear.

He began again with the same movements: thrusting against you with all the intent of a man getting ready to bust a fat nut.

"A-ahh, Toji…

"Hmm, feels good, sugar?"

Sugar.

"Y-yes, Toji…God."

He chuckled and moved to hover over you. A trickle of warm saliva dripped from his lips into your waiting mouth before he cupped your cheeks.

"Swallow."

You gulped, letting the viscous material slide down your dry throat.

With your head slightly tilted back, a blinking red light caught your eye. Toji followed your line of sight and then smirked.

"Does that camera work?"

"I don't think so…Aki never gets shit fixed around here…ah.." A sharp thrust of his hips against your covered clit made you shiver.

From the sound of your moans, Toji could tell that you were getting close.

With that one arm wrapped securely around your waist, the strong man lifted you up high to where you almost touched the dingy, grease-splattered ceiling.

He settled you down onto the line where the food was bagged and prepared to be sent out. There was a stack of brown serving trays next to you, containers of ketchup and other condiments, and…the ice cream machine.

"Toji.. what are you planning?" You asked, bringing your cute and confused E/C gaze up to meet his lustful sapphire one. 

He hummed quietly and pressed his lips against your neck.

"Could have sworn I told you to call me sir, brat."

You rolled your eyes. He just wasn't going to let it go, was he? 

“May I ask what you’re planning to do next, sir.” You huffed like a contemptuous child, making Toji’s dick jump.

With this new positioning, you were facing the camera head-on. God, you really hoped that thing wasn’t actually on.

“Smile for the camera, sweetheart.” He whispered in your ear before biting the shell of it, letting his tongue trail down until he was tasting the metal of your silver earring.

"You're so tiny and light, I love lifting you up as if you were nothing more but a little ragdoll." Toji bit at your earlobe, making you let out a loud squeal. Denji definitely would've heard that.

His hand moved to pull your hair, yanking your head to the side so he could leave a trail of wet kisses down from your ear, across the expanse of your neck and collarbones, and down the valley of your breasts once he'd popped the buttons on your shirt open. 

With the angle he had you at, your chest was positioned right under the nozzle of the ice cream machine and your near-fucked-out self hit the button, making a gush of cold, melted cream-colored confection spill across your chest.

Toji raised an eyebrow at you and failed to bite back a laugh. You, on the other hand, weren't as amused.

"What? You'd rather have something else white and creamy splattered across your chest?"  He asked.

You flopped back on the counter and flipped him off. He began to massage the melted ice cream into your skin.

"Looks so sweet. Got any cherries to go on top?”

“Fuck you.”

A handsome, devilish grin stretched across his face. “You just did.”

"What made you appear here tonight?" 

He laughed outright.

"Didn't you listen to the story, dollface? I'm here to sling dick to all the unsuspecting bad bitches, and tonight just happened to be your lucky night."

—

Aki came in the next morning, well-rested and without a care in the world.

With a lit cigarette between his lips, he fumbled with his massive set of keys until he found the correct one needed to open the doors.

Denji had texted him at some point last night telling him about the storm, so his first order of business today was to check to see if the security cameras were still functioning properly.

He sat down at his desk and popped in the security tape from last night. 

The employees, customers, and vendors that had come in after him would hear a very loud and very distinct shout of 'WHAT THE FUCK?!' from the back. 

----

*ʳᵉᵇˡᵒᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ!

[ansicred]

UPDATE ANNOUNCEMENT!!

Hi, yes, hello again! It's me, Newt... Been a while since I last updated/made an announcement here - however, I do have some actual news to report re: lore-related stuff.

As you may have noticed, I've posted a link to a DG!Verse lore dump earlier this week and while some characters/visuals are still missing (I will eventually be adding them to the doc as and when I make them rather than throwing them up all at once like I've done with the others), all the general DG!Verse lore information is 100% finished and will stay like that ad infinitum because I'm finally, finally happy with how I want the world to look/feel and how I want each of the three stories' plots to go. You can find it: here or under the DG!Verse tag: here. I do plan to make similar docs for Odd Foxes Verse + Wolf At The Door Verse, and they will be significantly shorter because they're nowhere near as big as DG is and they both only have the one (1) story to properly plot out. I'm not sure about whether or not I'll make one for Moon River Cargo Verse yet, because I'm still working out the kinks on that one... Still, DG!Verse is (mostly) done, so look out for Odd Foxes and WATD ones, alongside the usual smatterings of one-shots and things in between (because, yes, I will still be doing those). Outside of the usual one-shot stuff and working on the lore dump docs, I'll also be uploading all the character write-ups I've recently done (except one that is exclusive to the lore dump doc and will stay that way) here but I'll do it in little dribs and drabs between one-shot/graphic/mini lore/etc posts, so it's not just a wall of character write-ups. Again, see the DG!Verse tag if you wanna stay updated on those.

That's all I had to say, thanks for your patience, everybody! Until next time: be good and be safe 🦊7

[vukovich]

20 questions for fic writers!

Thank you @orange-peony @schmem14 and @teledild0nix for tagging me in this game! Sorry it took me eons.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

47. 46 under "Vukovich" and one that's anonymous.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

921,870

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Just Harry Potter.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Crane Lord of Gringotts Beauxtiful Boy "I'll Figure It Out" It'll Come Back Fearful Trill

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

No, as a general rule, I don't. I just feel like it's awkward to treat an AO3 comment as a conversation starter, I guess. Like, if someone wants to talk to me, my email address and Tumblr are in my AO3 bio. I do reply to AO3 comments if there's a question about the fic. Especially if the reader says their first language isn't English. I also will reply for the purpose of harassing friends.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Return to Sender and "I love you, (too/also)" are way up there in the angst department. For "I love you, (too/also)" I actually recorded a podfic of it, and I couldn't read the ending out loud without crying so I scrapped it. NO WAIT!!! I forgot about The Seven Weasley Horcruxes. Oh, Jeebus. Apologies in advance for that one.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Eagles in Truro, just for the sake of everyone getting to have their polyamorous cake and eat it too.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Yes. Just... yes. Big yes.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yeah, most of my fics are explicit. I'm not really sure what kind of smut I write. I feel like my smut is probably more graphic than some. More jizz dripping on the floor and errant pubes in teeth than what's fandom typical.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No, I can barely hold the HP universe in my head.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah, several of them. I think it's cool as hell. If it's a language I'm familiar with, I help with phrasings and subtext and stuff.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yeah. I have a WIP collection that people can leave unfinished fics in, and then I finish them. And I'd say when I collaborate with an artist, there's enough back and forth that it counts as co-writing. Oh! And there's a WIP with @oknowkiss and @mintawasalreadytaken I'll eventually get back to writing, I swear, you guys, for real, I will finish that shower piss scene.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Joker/Harley Quinn, actually.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

OMG just one?! I have (briefly leaves to check Google Docs) about 100k in unfinished fics, plus outlines for about ten more. I think those are all going to get dumped as-is on AO3 in an anonymous collection, and I'm only going to finish the ones I'm actively posting (Seahorse, Glitch, 24k9).

16. What are your writing strengths?

Weird turns of phrase, I guess. Or at least that's what people tell me. I feel like I'm pretty good at not bogging down the pace with descriptions, but some people like to know the threadcount when they read smut. Honestly, I have way more strengths as an editor than as a writer.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Complete disregard for the em dash. If I were meant to use it, it would have a key on the standard QWERTY keyboard. I even bought an expensive-ass keyboard, programmed an em dash key for it, and still didn't use it. It wasn't meant to be. Who would like to buy a very fancy keyboard? I will also die on my double-spacing at the end of sentences hill. Going down with this typewriter skills ship. Maybe YOUR language evolves over time, but mine's stuck in 1987.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

That's one of my favorite puzzles. How comprehensible can I make the foreign language excerpt solely through the use of cognates and cues? Love it. 10/10.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

HP

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

My most masterful works of fiction are letters of recommendation. But this sonnet is fun.

Tagging everybody already tagged, as well as @peachpety @@epitomereally @tontonguetonks @diligent-thunder @wheezykat @lou-ifyouwant @corvuscrowned

[britts-galaxy-brain]

Slight correction: multiple artists Lily specifically favorited have been arrested for using CSEM as references for their 3D work. Kaneda used her toddler son as reference material, including having someone have intercural sex with him for that material. Masked is in prison for using a child of a family he was friends with for reference material and he had sex with the boy in question multiple times, even though he was able to dodge charges regarding that due to oral sex not being provable in a court of law. Amri, one of two animators who made the Spike rape animation Lily faved, was convicted of violating an Estonian law that prohibits adults having kids engage in sexual activity with them, adults putting children into prostitution, and adults using children for pornographic purposes.

If you look at screenshots from Sankaku, where thumbnails flagged for review for possibly being made with CSEM are framed in yellow, there are over a dozen images flagged in every. single. account's. favorites. That's how prolific the problem is on there. You can't avoid it even if you try if you look into the loli or shota tags. The fact that they have a flagging system because this keeps happening is in and of itself really alarming.

I get that not every person who makes NSFW of a character who's underage references real minors, and a lot of horny teens make art of teen characters they like, but while I respect anon's attempts to assume good faith and assume innocence rather than guilt... on Sankaku, CSEM and NSFW are genuinely, honestly interchangeable terms a lot of the time. Three artists in one year alone who abused children aside, any site that hosts 3D, photorealistic art is going to have art made from CSEM references because artists who use CSEM as reference material can blend in and hide behind those who don't.

That's why survivors hate that site. It's not "doing survivors a disservice" to refer to that shit as CSEM because 1. a large chunk of it is 2. a lot of users looking at it are looking for CSEM they won't get in legal trouble for and 3. even the 3D renders that aren't CSEM would still look like CSEM to anyone who's not a 3D artist who can pick out all the anatomy flaws in it.

As a survivor I get why anon wants to distinguish between art and exploitation of children because yeah, some 16 year old being horny for a 15 year old character isn't CSEM but that's just not what we're discussing when it's Sankaku.

Point in case: my abuser took a picture he had where he'd came on my face and had a 3D artist make a render of it with his brother's face instead of mine. It's still on Sankaku because even when they take it down, people reupload it. It's been in circulation for six years.

Sorry for dumping this in your inbox, this kind of thing just makes me see red. I'm not a bad survivor for hating Sankaku or for calling it CSEM and neither are you.

I realize the descriptions in this are graphic, but I'm sharing it with trigger warnings because YALL NEED TO REALIZE HOW GRAPHIC THE SHIT LILY IS LOOKING AT IS!

This isn't a joke!

This isn't "anti vs pro" ship bullshit!

This isn't "Oh but it's fictional so it's not the same"!

LILY ORCHARD IS A VIOLENT PEDOPHILE!!

If seeing this offends you, instead of getting mad and indignant at the people spreading awareness about it, TARGET THAT SHIT AT THE PERSON USING HER PLATFORM TO ACCESS MINORS AND OTHER VULNERABLE PEOPLE!

[sleeppyreader]

DBZ KakaVege AO3 (Kakarot x Vegeta) Stories - Constantly Updating List.

My own AO3 account, @ RaditzsLittleNerd. I'm working on one story, I bookmarks stories and I may write more stories in the future as well! (Slow updates.)

__BDSM__

Rose created by schloprecetacle

Son Goku/Vegeta, Son Goku, Goku Black, Vegeta (Dragon Ball), kakavege week

Warnings - Rough Sex, BDSM themes, Explicit Sexual Content, Violent Sex, Face Slapping, Choking

Summary

Goku indulges Vegeta's fantasy about their newest enemy. Kakavege Week Prompt #9: Goku Black.

Language: English  Words: 1,664  Chapters: 1/1  Collections: 2  Comments: 20  Kudos: 395  Bookmarks: 51  Hits: 5901

Wild created by schloprecetacle

Son Goku/Vegeta, Uke Goku, Super Saiyan Sex

Warning - Graphic Depictions Of Violence, BDSM, Spanking

Summary

Vegeta sees something wild inside Goku and decides to give him what he craves. Graphic sex, violence and some BDSM themes. Kakavege Week Prompt #15: Uke Goku.

Series

Part 1 of Wild

Language: English  Words: 3,660  Chapters: 1/1  Collections: 2  Comments: 20  Kudos: 445  Bookmarks: 69  Hits: 9024

Topped created by Yammy_kooki

Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Bulma Briefs, Vegeta (Dragon Ball), i just wanted bulma to call vegetas ass a boy pussy, heres a 8k+ fic on good kink practice, and vegeta discovering his kink kjasdk

Warning - Pegging, Anal Fingering, Sex Toys, Feminization, Kink Discovery, Kink Negotiation, anal prep, Blow Jobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Lingerie, Rimming, Cunnilingus, Dry Orgasm

Summary

Vegeta baulked. His face flushed. "You...what?!" Bulma blushed as well, struggling to maintain her usual haughty, confident front. "I want to try pegging you. It's when I wear a fake cock -a strap-on- and fuck your-" "I know what pegging is!" Vegeta felt like he could faint. "Why would you want to do that?!"

Language: English Words: 13,463 Chapters: 2/2 Comments: 43 Kudos: 64  Bookmarks: 22  Hits: 628

Non-Professional created by Yammy_kooki

Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Raditz (Dragon Ball), Turles (Dragon Ball), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Saiyans Still Have Tails, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Flirting, Surprising Amount of Fluff, Smart Son Goku (Dragon Ball)

Warning - BDSM, Dom/sub, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kink Exploration, Kink Discovery, Collars, Master/Pet, Rope Bondage, Cock Warming, Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Multiple Orgasms, Temperature Play, Exhibitionism, Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Urethral Play, Whipping

Summary

Vegeta keeps getting dumped because of his boring sex life. To help him out, Raditz gives him the phone number of a...Saiyan sex consultant?! Join Vegeta as he discovers his kinks and try(and fail) to not fall in love with said consultant.

Language: English Words: 40,961 Chapters: 8/8 Comments: 71 Kudos: 207  Bookmarks: 31  Hits: 3786

Feel You In My Bones created by TeamDamon

Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Bulma Briefs, Bulma is a good bro, the best wife really, she’s just lookin out for her veggie, idk how else to tag this, Goku is a himbo, Vegeta is a tad sexually frustrated but he doesn’t know it, Bulma has a solution, Bottom Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Bottom Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Top Son Goku (Dragon Ball), veggie’s a power bottom tho really, there’s some consensual punching/fighting when things start heating up, don’t know how to tag that but yeah it’s there, mildly drunk veggie, bribery of smol children, this story has officially gotten away from me and will prob be 388282 chapters, RIP me, its all consensual, thats right my dudes, they’re switching

Warning - Explicit Sexual Content, Choking, Voyeurism, Face Slapping, Bondage, some light BDSM happening, ki cuffs, Safewords, Spanking, Cave sex, Butt Plugs, Tail Sex

Summary

“I will not, nor will I ever, fuck Kakarot.” “Fine,” Bulma shrugged, reaching over to grab her sleep mask from her nightstand. “Don’t. It was just a suggestion, not a command.” Vegeta crossed his arms and stared angrily at the back of her head as she turned off the light and laid down, her back to him as she let out a long yawn. “Besides,” she muttered casually, “I figured Goku would be the one doing the fucking anyway.” Vegeta’s jaw dropped. — Aka where Bulma knows what her husband needs and makes sure that he gets it. Formerly titled “Just Wanna Taste It”.

Language: English Words: 62,042 Chapters: 9/9 Collections: 3 Comments: 197  Kudos: 1428  Bookmarks: 314  Hits: 26394

__HEAT__

Side Effects created by cosmicmewtwo

Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku, Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Sex Pollen, Weird Alien Physiology, kakavege week prompt: Poison, ... this is a godless amalgamation of every trope I said I'd never write, .......and we're never speaking of it again

Warning - Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, irresponsible handling of questionable pharmaceuticals

Summary

Vegeta accidentally exposes himself to a strange chemical in Bulma's lab.

Language: English Words: 4,779 Chapters: 1/1 Collections: 2 Comments: 21 Kudos: 952 Bookmarks: 128 Hits: 8454

Kuvusa created by orphan_account

Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Top Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Bottom Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Hyperbolic Time Chamber | The Room of Spirit and Time, Saiyan Biology, Saiyan Instincts, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, I am a ridiculous sappy sap, Warning: too much sweetness teeth will rot, Can’t write smut without love it’s how I roll

Warning - Mating Cycles/In Heat, Anal Sex, Tail Sex, Self-Lubrication, Double Penetration in One Hole, Multiple Orgasms

Summary

Every Saiyan went through it, their version of puberty. It usually occurred around the age of sixteen, sometimes fifteen, very occasionally fourteen, and it wasn’t a big deal. One day of self-care—in all senses of the word—and a Saiyan was over it the next day. Vegeta went through it himself and was fine. Goku, though, had his tail cut off too early. Vegeta found this out first hand, a year into training inside the Room of Spirit and Time.

Language: English Words: 7,967 Chapters: 1/1 Comments: 37 Kudos: 401 Bookmarks: 78 Hits: 5095

__Romantic/Comfort Sex__

Take Care created by orphan_account

Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Top Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Bottom Vegeta (Dragon Ball)

Warning - Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Blood and Injury

Summary

Goku knew when Vegeta wasn’t okay, and he knew what to do when that happened.

Language: English Words: 2,051 Chapters: 1/1 Comments: 7 Kudos: 154  Bookmarks: 29  Hits: 2224

22 Years, 5 Months, 20 Days created by zuzallove

Son Goku/Vegeta, Kakarot. Vegeta, Bulma Briefs, King Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Bardock (Dragon Ball), Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Raditz (Dragon Ball), Freeza | Frieza, Freeza's Army | Frieza's Army, Nappa (Dragon Ball), Saiyan Culture, kakavege, Saiyan AU, Planet Vegeta, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Goku is smart, Vegeta is emotionally constipated, Eventual Happy Ending, One Shot, Canon-Typical Violence, h/c, Mating Bond

Warning - Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Mpreg, Anal Sex, Tail Sex, Mating Bites, Smut, Explicit Language

Summary

Kakarot is Vegeta's assigned sparring partner when they are 4 and 6 years-old. Vegeta absolutely hates him. But as the years go by, Bardock's brat seems to be the only one who can hold Vegeta's attention for more than a minute. He hates him, but he can't live without him. Only two problems with that: there's a war on, and Vegeta has to mate whomever his father picks out for him. Saiyan!AU.

Language: English Words: 19,026 Chapters: 1/1 Collections: 1 Comments: 99 Kudos: 1551 Bookmarks: 284 Hits: 15957

Unfinished Business created by Vakaara

Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Room of Spirit and Time, bad memories, sort of skirting hurt comfort, baths and awkwardness, Vegeta has Issues, Goku is actually pretty clueless sometimes, Canon Typical Violence, Nightmares, a lot of tension, I just wanted to write about these two interacting more when they were still ‘enemies’, like a lot, Pre-Slash, more or less

Warning - Major Character Death, Masturbation, Dirty Dreams, canon present character death

Summary

What if Vegeta and Goku had taken a day or a year to train in the Room of Spirit and Time, before fighting Cell?

Series

Part 1 of Under My Skin

Language: English Words: 14,719 Chapters: 8/8 Comments: 52 Kudos: 280 Bookmarks: 40 Hits: 3663

__True Love (No Smut)__

Love is Blind created by TrishML

Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku, Vegeta, Angst, Old Age, True Love, Sad

Warning - Death

Summary

Goku and Vegeta grow old together...

Language: English Words: 2,022 Chapters: 1/1 Comments: 17 Kudos: 60 Bookmarks: 6 Hits: 459

__THREESOMES / ORGY__

The Proportion created by GoldenMama

Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Bulma Briefs/Son Goku/Vegeta, Bulma Briefs/Son Goku, Bulma Briefs, Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku (Dragon Ball),

Warning - Explicit Sexual Content, Birthday Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Tail Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism, Light Bondage, Roleplay

Summary

The Saiyans have their tails back, and Bulma’s questions are relentless. She asks the boys to enlighten her (for the sake of science, of course). Will they satisfy more than just her thirst for knowledge?

Series

Part 1 of No I in Threesome

Language: English Words: 10,154 Chapters: 1/1 Comments: 17 Kudos: 86 Bookmarks: 28 Hits: 2314

Sensation created by gutterbunnyx

Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Bulma Briefs & Son Goku, Bulma Briefs & Chi-Chi, Bulma Briefs/Chi-Chi, Chi-Chi/Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku, Chi-Chi (Dragon Ball), Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Trunks Briefs, Bulma Briefs, Lingerie, Minor Original Character(s), Bottom Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Men Crying, Mommy Chi-Chi, Lipstick, Bulma and Chi-Chi totally do it offscreen, Bulma likes to watch, Bathing, Shopping

Warning - Public Humiliation, Crossdressing, Nipple Play, Humiliation Dirty Talk, Feminization, Breast Fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Breeding, Unsafe Sex, Goku in lingerie, Aftercare

Summary

Goku indulges in a guilty pleasure.

Language: English Words: 9,279 Chapters: 6/6 Collections: 1 Comments: 32 Kudos: 148 Bookmarks: 12 Hits: 2848

__DARK CONTENT__

Sex Addicts Anonymous created by herpb4uderp

Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Chi-Chi (Dragon Ball), Human AU, no powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, sex addicts anon, Addicts Anonymous, Compulsive sexual behavior, mature thematic content, Adult Language, adult topics, Angst, Denial, psychopathy at its finest, Interventions, Psychosis, did i already say bad coping mechanisms?, Bad coping mechanisms, the worst, unconventional forms of rehab, Psychological Thriller, Psychological Drama, S L O W B U R N

Warning - Graphic Violence, Manipulation, Withdrawal, Cravings, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Dark, psychotic character

Summary

Vegeta did not show up here because he needed "help." He showed up because he knew it would be... easy. But help often finds us in the ways we least expect it. And sometimes it even finds us in the ways... we wish it didn't.

Language: English Words: 53,365 Chapters: 21/21 Comments: 312 Kudos: 317 Bookmarks: 51 Hits: 5485

Liminal Spaces created by Iced_Sympathy

Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Hyperbolic Time Chamber | The Room of Spirit and Time, Infidelity, Naive Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Canon Compliant, Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot

Warning - Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Sexual Violence, Dark, Sadism, Masochism, Bloodlust, Edging, Prostate Milking, Somnophilia, Marathon Sex, Breathplay

Summary

To prepare for the Tournament of Destroyers, Vegeta and Goku spend three years in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber training. Vegeta suggests exploiting the Saiyan ability to recover stronger after being beaten to near-death. It was supposed to keep them focused, but instead Vegeta is forced to confront the not-so-friendly feelings he has for his rival. [Hiatus until my Death Note kick calms down]

Language: English Words: 22,818 Chapters: 8/15 Comments: 158 Kudos: 208 Bookmarks: 33 Hits: 4006

Home Alone created by schlopreceptacle

Son Goku/Vegeta, Raditz/Son Goku, Raditz/Son Goku/Vegeta,

Warning - Masturbation, Mpreg, Sibling Incest, Sexual Fantasy

Summary

A pregnant and horny Vegeta gets some alone time to explore a deep, dark fantasy. Kakavege Week Prompt #30: Mpreg. Content warning for graphic sexual content and brief incest.

Language: English Words: 1,199 Chapters: 1/1 Collections: 1 Comments: 14 Kudos: 231 Bookmarks: 26 Hits: 4701

[titaniumpsychologist]

Duality of Light // Tue 2038-12-14 // Part Two (teaser? ish?)

I'd been so bogged down with work, research, and presentations this summer, and the semester is starting up again in the next few weeks? And two days ago a huge project was dumped on me for my research? After trying so hard to get this next chapter done? Aggghhh. I love what I'm doing, but I have no time for writing fanfic 😞

Because I feel bad that I haven't been able to put out a chapter for this fic on Ao3 for so long, I'm gonna share another snippet at least for those here on tumblr. Not yet edited (the chapter is looking to be 15k-16k before editing. RIP.) but I feel that these sections are closer to what I want to be in the Ao3-ready version that I intend to publish once I find time again to work on it.

FYI, even though this isn't the whole chapter, it's still a bit of a read (about 4000 words). So please don't freak out if you see the huge wall of text when clicking that "read more." Also, this obviously makes no sense if you haven't read the fic on Ao3, so here's the parts that come before it here lol (please heed the warnings and tags at the top of the fic): https://archiveofourown.org/works/37467820/chapters/93505051

Warnings, tags, and fic spoilers under the cut:

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Category: Gen

Fandom: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)

Relationships: Connor & Gavin Reed | Hank Anderson & Connor | Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed

Characters: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) | Gavin Reed | Hank Anderson | Elijah Kamski

Tags (straight from Ao3): Enemies to Friends | Found Family | everyone is bad at feelings | Gavin Reed Redemption | Android Gavin Reed | Connor Deserves Happiness | Elijah Kamski & Gavin Reed are Half-Siblings | Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human) | Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human) | Angst and Feels | Drama | Connor is a Mess (Detroit: Become Human) | Tags May Change | Other Additional Tags to Be Added | Warnings May Change | Gavin Reed Being an Asshole | Gavin Reed Being Less of an Asshole | Canon-Typical Violence | Post-Canon | Reconciliation | Pacifist Markus (Detroit: Become Human) | Elijah Kamski Being Elijah Kamski | like seriously Elijah why did you do this to my plot now I gotta deal with the consequences | The Author Regrets Everything | all the happy tags are endgame so buckle up for a long ride | It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better | Good Parent Hank Anderson | Implied/Referenced Suicide | Implied/Referenced Character Death | now with workskin | No Romance | sorry i can't write romance but if you see something if you squint i won't stop you lol | Grief/MourningIdentity | Case Fic | Angst with a Happy Ending | Connor Needs A Hug | Everyone Needs A Hug | Character Death? | Character Death | Betrayal | Dubious Morality

Tue 2038-12-14 // Part Two

Irrelevant.

Possible lead?

Irrelevant.

Irrelevant.

Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant…

Another lead to follow, higher in priority. Connor made a side note to reference it later.

Irrelevant. Irrelevant. Irrelevant.

Indeterminate, no leads.

He paused in his interface with his terminal, going over all the case files that the DPD had and seeing if there was a possible connection with them and their current case that involved the recent murders.

>> CR# 11762

>>> STATUS - CLOSED

Closed case. It might've not been related, however, there were several redacted notes that made it nearly incomprehensible and possibly even unimportant because it was considered a resolved report under normal police procedure. There was enough information in it that, knowing what he knew now, Connor had reason to believe that the people involved in this report was Reed and Stevens. Eyewitness report, but who was this eyewitness? Who were these people involved in their extraction?

And then there was a similar copy that was with the data that was seized from Kamski's property for their investigation. It was related to their case, beyond all reasonable doubt, but how can a report that detailed the events that started it all have so little to go on? He was so quick to label it as "indeterminate," too, because it didn't register as something important with a cursory parsing through the database.

He withdrew his hand from the interface. He should bring this up to Hank. Maybe this needed organic eyes to make sense of all of this.

However, when he turned to ask him something, he saw Hank fully engrossed in his own terminal and stacks and stacks of case files near to toppling off his desk, an intensity in his expression that he hadn't seen before. Lieutenant Anderson had a focus or… feeling around him that said to anyone watching that he was a man on a mission and nothing would stop him to accomplish it.

That was a feeling that Connor knew, and maybe even he missed, that feeling where he had no doubts to distract him, no layers and layers of emotions that he had to parse through first before redirecting his path towards accomplishing his mission.

No, he should stop thinking like that. This was better than being a machine. This, and all its troubles was better than going back to what he was before.

He dug into his pocket, taking care to avoid brushing his fingers against the storage drive and brought out his coin. There was a strange feeling—another glitch, maybe—when Connor held his quarter in his hand again. There were so many things that he didn't know about life, about humanity, about Hank, about Reed.

About himself.

Given that he was a prototype, other people didn't know much about him, either. Except Reed had a possible answer as to why he did a few things the way he did, like his quarter. He liked dogs, but why? He had his Zen garden in his mind palace, empty and fractured it may be right now, but why? Could they all be related? Could understanding the different choices behind the design of his basic programming help him fix all the errors he was experiencing in his software?

He wondered maybe it was mutual. Maybe he knew more about Reed than what Reed knew about himself. At the very least, he had the rest of Reed's fragmented programming sitting at the bottom of his pocket.

Referring to his directories holding all his references and cross-references with his experiences with emotions, he dredged aup a word for the strange feeling.

Dread.

He stood from his seat as he pulled up the building's map and navigated himself to the rooftop. Reed wasn't the only one who needed a change in scenery today.

[scene break]

Connor was wrong. He had to be.

"I think many people care about you, Detective Reed."

Gavin tapped impatiently at the side of his terminal input, waiting for the database to load all the information they had on their case. Damn, did they end up with a big one. His eyes glossed over the titles of some files, recognizing the naming system Elijah used. The information on the victims in the case updated with Chloe's information. Deactivated.

Dead.

He turned off the screen, keeping the process running, but not wanting to really see more of it yet.

Or ever.

Tina passed by his desk, pulling out a memorandum from Fowler and putting it on a stack of papers next to him. And he noticed a small scribble of her handwriting on one corner: "You're the baddest bitch in town."

A stupid motivational message as condescending as always.

Gavin felt a firm thud at the back of his chair as Chris went to get up, accidentally knocking his desk chair against Gavin's for the thousandth time and immediately trying to apologize and offering to get him a coffee from the break room to make up for the slight. For all he knew, with how much Chris had done it, he did it on purpose.

It was all routine. Even when Gavin had a literal life change and had to have a whole reclassification of his employment files, Chen and Miller still kept to routine. He should be mad at them. He should be angry that they weren't angry at the whole injustice that this all was. They worked alongside this lie for years. Shouldn't they also feel betrayed?

Shouldn't they all see what a fucked up mess this was?

Chris brought him his coffee, as promised, smiling at him before placing it Tina's handwriting on the memo and returning to his own desk.

Gavin took a peeved sip of the coffee.

People cared about him?

He skimmed the memo from Fowler, a notice that he was going to have to do a press meeting about how fucking slowly Anderson, Connor, and Gavin were making any kind of headway into their case because media finally noticed that Elijah was in the police station a bit too long. Almost as if he was being held for a crime.

The thought of having to somehow get him to answer to the fucked-up shit he did made him grip the page a lot tighter, nearly damaging a few pixels on the digital paper.

But then he saw Tina's words in looped cursive, a skill that was utterly useless, but she insisted on practicing her handwriting whenever she could because she felt she could at least leave a human touch on things in her own way.

"You're the baddest bitch in town," Gavin whispered, reading the words with a half-chuckle.

He sighed and turned the memo over. Scrubbed his eyes. He blindly reached for his coffee and took another sip. It was steaming hot but the pain didn't register, and damn, now that he thought about it, he wondered how we went on for so long never noticing that detail. He wondered if anyone had noticed his lack of reaction towards a burning hot liquid.

Someone must have.

Anyone.

Gavin stared down into the dark liquid of his cup, its surface catching the lights in the ceiling.

There was a mole in the DPD. They must've known.

Gavin turned his head slightly, watching Chris as he typed out a report. Could he have been the mole?

What about Tina? Could she have known? Were these condescending messages a hint toward something else? Or were they actually people that cared? Were they people without ulterior motives? Chris had a family to take care of. Tina had her sister and her mom to look out for. Both of them would have too much at stake to be playing at two sides. Were they people willing to sacrifice what they had for the sake of greed?

"How's Damian doing?" Gavin asked, spinning his chair around to face Chris.

"What—?" Chris stopped his typing and turned his own chair around. "Oh! Uh… He's doing good. Why'd you ask?"

"Just wondering."

"Are you… okay?"

"Fuckin' peachy."

"Are you sure? Honest answer, please."

Gavin let out a short laugh. "Of fucking course not, but I'm managing."

"I'm… sorry to hear that." Chris scratched the back of his neck. "If… you wanna talk about it—"

"Why do you do it?" Gavin asked. "You and Tina. The notes. The coffee. Why?"

"Because it's a nice thing to do? Learning about what you're going through right now… We can't even imagine. We thought with how much is changing for you, you might appreciate if we kept a few things like they were before. At the end of the day, you're still our coworker, and we watch each other's backs."

"Right." Gavin sighed and shook his head. "Right. Of course."

"Is there a problem? That you're… okay with sharing, obviously."

"Nah, I'm good. That's a good answer."

"…okay?" Chris returned to working on his report. Gavin could see that Chris wasn't "okay" with the probing, but at least he seemed cool with leaving it at that for now. He mulled over Chris' answer.

They only did it to be nice.

Damn it. This case was getting into his head.

Okay, so maybe Connor had a point? People cared about him, or at least maybe Miller and Chen did. Maybe not in the way he'd want them to, but they did in their own way. Maybe in the way he needed them to.

Gavin snuck a quick glance over to where Connor sat at his desk from across the bullpen, his coworker in the middle of an interface with the terminal, LED still having one spot perpetually stuck on yellow.

And Connor said he cared.

After a few moments, Connor turned to Anderson and opened his mouth to say something, but his LED quickly flashed to red with that one dot of not-red. Connor really should get that light of his checked. Weren't those supposed to be indicators for what kind of processes were running in their heads?

Gavin couldn't imagine anyone having a glimpse of what was really going on in his head, how exposing it would be to not have that amount of privacy in the least.

Maybe that's why some androids chose to remove theirs.

But that posed the question of why Connor still had his.

Connor frowned, withdrawing his hand and stuffing it into his pocket, bringing out that coin he always had on him. He must've noticed that Gavin was watching him, since he inclined his head a bit in his direction before standing and leaving his desk.

Must've given up on telling Anderson what he wanted to say. The lieutenant was engrossed in the stacks of case files on his desk and was wholly unaware of Connor's leave.

Fucking Anderson. Even if he supposedly got his act together, he was still dropping the ball like he always did.

Gavin shook his head disapprovingly.

So maybe people cared about Gavin.

But how many cared about Connor? In the way they needed to?

Gavin pressed his hands against the top of his knees as he watched Connor take the door to the rooftop access stairs. Gavin debated whether he should follow him, pressing his hands firmer against the grain of his jeans enough to leave indents when he removed his palms to look at them. He caught a glimpse of his split knuckle as he did so.

…fuck it.

[scene break]

Going up here was a mistake.

Connor gripped the chainlink fence surrounding the half-walls of the rooftop as another… 

…preconstruction?

…memory?

Whatever it was, it assaulted his sensors, making it nearly impossible to focus on any other inputs he was trying to override it with. He was fine when he made his way up here. The malfunction triggered by seeing how high up he was.

Fighting. Blood spattering in crimson and sapphire. The mission to kill Markus. To kill these DPD officers. To kill Hank. All these people getting in the way of his main objective. This wasn't what he wanted to remember of what he used to be the days before the revolution.

What could've been.

But maybe he needed to. Maybe this was how he could keep from ever wanting to be a machine again.

If only Hank weren't so prominent in these malfunctions.

"Hey!" Reed called from suddenly too close behind him. How had he not noticed that he followed him up here? "What the fuck are you doing?"

Connor tried to speak, to exit the processes that were currently running this preconstruction, but he found that he couldn't. His grip on the fence tightened, rattling the metal as he trembled.

He couldn't let go.

He couldn't exit the nightmare program still running.

He was stuck.

And someone, worst of all Detective Reed, was watching him as he tried to pull his programming together and failing. No one was supposed to know. They didn't need to.

He felt his breaths quickening, too hot, his stress rising, stress-sensor still broken.

"Connor?" Reed asked him.

Connor tried to loosen his fingers, to at least hide how much he was shaking. Tried again to turn off the bombardment of fists and gunshots and dropping Hank from the building—no, Hank charging at him and falling—no, Hank shoving?—dropping?—him from the building.

Then it stopped.

He found that Reed had brought him away from the fence and closer to the rooftop access door.

"Shit, why the hell are you burning up?" Reed said under his breath.

Connor brushed off Reed's hands on him and he took off his jacket to try to cool down, his armband dropping onto the thin layer of snow on the roof. Reed stooped to pick it up, hesitated, then handed it to him.

"My stress was too high," Connor said. "Androids tend to overheat once stress reaches a certain point."

"Right. Right. The orientation. That uh… is a thing that happens. Right."

Connor could tell that Reed wanted to say something else, but instead looked away.

"You good now?" Reed said after a few moments.

"Yes. Why are you here?"

"Wanted to check on you. Y'know… 'cuz uh… you checked on me earlier. When I…" He rolled his wrist, circling his hands ambiguously in the air. Both of their gazes went to Reed's split knuckle on one of his fingers. He cleared this throat. "What was that?"

Connor draped his jacket in the crook of his elbow after replacing his band where it belonged around his arm. "It was nothing."

"Nah, not this again. You need to get this checked, whatever the fuck this is."

"I will," Connor said.

"You better," Reed said. "Because that was…" He exhaled, chewed a little bit on the inside of his lip. "That shit didn't look fun to experience."

"And how would you know?"

"I… get like that, kinda. Sometimes. Maybe it's different, being uh… different… android models but… Maybe not all that different, considering…" Another wrist roll. "All our shit."

He could see how carefully Reed tried to pick his words, as if he didn't know how to talk about whatever it was he was trying to get at. Both unable to bring themselves to talk about something so… unpleasant. There was a small rumble from deep in Connor's chest, and he couldn't help but pull the corners of his mouth upward.

Connor laughed.

"How the fuck could you be laughing right now?" Reed asked, half in his usual irritation, other half something… concerned?

"I don't know," Connor said in between fits. He started up again, this time with even more force. It wasn't until he realized that there was moisture running down his face. He brushed it away with his sleeve, and felt even more running down his chin, and he realized that he was crying.

Laughter morphed into sobbing.

"I don't know," Connor said, his vocal modulator stuttering. "I don't know, Detective Reed."

"Shit," Reed said. "Shit. Uh…" Running his hands through his hair, Reed shuffled his feet, and then: "I should get Anderson."

"No," Connor said, grabbing Reed by the elbow as he was about to leave. Why couldn't he stop crying? "He can't know."

He expected Reed to just ignore him and go on with getting Hank. Instead, Reed nodded. "Okay, what do you need me to do?"

"Forget you saw anything."

Reed huffed out a breath and nodded. "Alright."

Reed wasn't putting up a fight about this?

"What?" Connor said.

"I'll forget this happened," Reed said. "Or pretend at least. As long as you tell me what the fuck is going on."

Connor looked down at his jacket and his shirt sleeves. The saline had frozen into small beads of frost, with more continuing to be added to it. And these were his new clothes, too.

He started sobbing again, not because of his clothes, but because of all the things he could be thinking of, he was concerned about something so trivial. Maybe his software was getting dangerously unstable.

"I'm scared," Connor said softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me, and… I don't like where it's going." He swiped at his eyes, catching more of his tears with the cuff of his sleeve. "I don't think anyone can fix it."

"What is 'it', Connor?"

"I had an AI handler," Connor said. "I destroyed her after she took over my functions to try to assassinate Markus, and I damaged several parts of my software in the process."

Reed brushed the scar on his nose, not saying anything as he looked off into the distance. "Her…?"

There it was, that look again. Right before he gave Connor information about his fixation about his quarter.

"Can you describe this handler?" Reed asked.

"Her name was Amanda," Connor said. "I believe she was modeled after Kamski's former mentor, Amanda Stern."

Reed's hand dropped and formed into a fist. "Fuck. He did not. He did not fucking do that." He sighed and shook his head. "Sorry. Continue. Why are you afraid of getting rid of her? Sounds like she was a real bitch if she tried to take control of you."

"She was… amicable at first." Connor said. "I thought I could've trusted her. She was a part of my programming, acting as a liaison between me and CyberLife but for her to take complete control was…"

Cold. Bracing against a harsh blast of chill, Amanda making him take aim at Markus, as he stumbled and crawled his way to the emergency exit. A gunshot rang in Amanda's triumph—

Reed shook his shoulder. "Hey, you're doing that thing again."

"Sorry." Connor moved his jacket to his other arm to use another sleeve to wipe the moisture from his eyes. "I'm not too pleased with the possibility that she's not completely gone. I don't want Hank to know, because he's aware of what she was capable of and what she tried to make me do, but I don't want him to worry about it."

"And what would 'it' be?"

"I don't want him to worry about—" Connor closed his eyes the moment he caught what his next words would be.

"About what? Her coming back? You losing control?"

Connor shook his head. Those were concerns of his, yes, but… it was more than that when it came to Hank. That wasn't what he was about to say.

Again, that unnamed emotion rose up to the top of his processes, error codes and all. That feeling—he hated it. But he could feel it start to corrupt the controls in his speech synthesizers, as if that feeling wanted a way to escape…

…and he didn't want to keep fighting it.

"I don't want him to worry about losing me. I don't want him to worry about me… dying."

Reed's expression softened. A little sadder. A little… lost.

[scene break]

Gavin had to step away, hearing Connor admit that; had to resist cupping his hands over his ears and shoving the memory away. Connor no longer had to say anything else to explain his situation, because that was something Gavin knew intimately.

His feet had stilled near the entryway of a hospital room, hovering near enough to the opening to overhear the whirring and beeps of machines helping to stave off the inevitable as his mother talked to Chloe before she went off to surgery. A surgery that would help take her pain away, but with complications that would take her away years later.

"It's not that, Chloe," Mom had said as Gavin eavesdropped on their conversation. He hadn't trusted that machine to be alone in the same room as her, especially not after witnessing the destruction Chloe created of that ST200. "I worry him enough. I don't want him to worry about losing me, but… you know how Gav is. He's stubborn enough to act like it doesn't bother him, but he's already lost his brother to his inventions. I don't want him to feel like he'll lose his mother the same way. You'll keep an eye on both of them for me, will you? You'll keep them from doing anything they might regret later?"

"I'm afraid I can't make any promises for the latter," Chloe had said. "But I can assure you that I will watch over them for you the best way I can."

"Good. That's good, Chloe. You're doing really well, I hope you know that." A long sigh. "I wish that Eli were here."

"He wasn't able to attend due to several business meetings today, but I can at least tell him for you later."

"I would like that. Thank you. Oh, and Chloe, before you go get Gavin." A pause. "Keep this for me. It's a gift."

Gavin shook out his hands, giving them a break from how much he was clenching and unclenching them. It was hard to believe those memories were not real.

And damn if he was going to just stand by seeing someone else feeling like his mom did that day and not do or say anything about it.

"Alright, here's what we're gonna do," Gavin said, shoving the memory back and trying to keep to the present with Connor. "I won't tell Anderson, like I promised, got it? I'll even pretend I didn't see anything up here, but there's a huge… something about this that you're not confronting. And believe me when I say I get it."

Connor's processing LED spun yellow—for good reason this time and not looking like a glitch. "Why are you doing this, Detective Reed? I find your change in demeanor surprising, if I'm honest."

Damn Connor for being so perceptive, even after experiencing a full-blown panic attack in the middle of a flashback—or whatever it was that Connor was experiencing. It was fucking disturbing to have to witness someone like Connor in the throes of what looked like a trauma response.

There was no fucking way Anderson of all people didn't notice something was up.

But he promised Connor he'd keep quiet just to get him to talk through it because, goddamn, was that not fun to watch.

So why was he doing this for him? Why was he willing to stick his neck out again for someone? Connor could end up being another Ray, or another Eli, or another Leah, or Mom, or Dad, or…

Or maybe he really wanted to believe that Connor was different. Maybe he was the exception to the rule.

Maybe Gavin was open to hoping again.

"Alright, I'll add another condition to forgetting this happened," Gavin said, holding up his index finger to emphasize. "You don't fucking say what I'm gonna say to anyone, got it?"

A small smile stretched across Connor's lips, and he nodded. "Of course, Detective."

"You weren't that bad of company for lunch, and I thought about what you said, earlier. About people caring, about you being one of them and maybe I wanted to return the favor. At least a little."

Connor's smile widened, same crooked way he did earlier. "I see. Thank you, Detective Reed."

"Remember what I said, Connor," Gavin said. "Tell anyone I said this, and I'll tell Anderson."

Connor laughed. It was a good laugh, not as strangled as it was before, which meant that Gavin was at least not completely fucking this up. A blue LED was also a good sign, too, but with Connor, that could be a false positive.

Gavin still couldn't quite shake the feeling that Connor was still hiding something. He wanted to ask, but… after what happened earlier?

Maybe it was nothing.

[not-a-space-alien]

Hi! Call me Nasa. All the cool kids are using pinned posts now. Here's my old about page.

If we are strangers to each other, please do not ask me to share your fundraiser. I will not share fundraisers from people I do not know.

Due to my own personal triggers, if you follow me from a blog that centers heavily on eating disorders, I will block you.

I'm 31. This blog is mostly sfw, but does occasionally contain adult-oriented content. If you are a minor following me, I expect you to block the "nsfw" tag so these posts are blocked, and to not interact with them. This blog also will occasionally contain graphic depictions of violence and blood.

I’m okay with anything I post being reblogged unless it’s tagged with “please don’t reblog” or some variation thereof.

If you don't want me to answer an ask publicly, please say so as I will usually do so. I am also open to private DMs. Anons are usually on and usually it's fine to ask me anything as long as it's genuine/in good faith, just put warnings ahead of anything explicit, suggestive, or potentially disturbing so my followers can be warned if I answer publicly.

I will tag things if you ask me to, as long as it's not too difficult to do so. I already tag commonly blocked things like nsfw, gore, and blood. I have also been asked to tag spiders, trypophobia, blood, and weed so I will do my best to remember.

I usually prefer to just dump all of my interests on one blog rather than side blogs, but I (sometimes) run @good-omens-classic @women-of-good-omens and @thisbutgoodomens. I own @audiomens which is an archive. @thistleposting is also my blog.

I'm a human. Read the URL.

My writing:

I write as a hobby. Most of my current writing is original works. Some of them have illustrations/visuals, but you are free to imagine the characters differently if you like. I welcome fanart, fanfiction, roleplaying asks, and collaborative worldbuilding, for anyone who feels so inclined. Just tag me so I can see! :)

Most recent story updates:

8/29/24 Tinytopia Chapter 12: Monoculture

8/18/24 Desperate Daybreak Chapter 8

My AO3 page

Watch Your Step - An entomologist finds an injured fairy while out in the field. (The tag for posts about this story is #Watch Your Step) (Does not require reading anything beforehand) [Active]

Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset - A story about a vampire and a vampire hunter, told from dualing perspectives. (caution: graphic) (The tag for posts about this story is #MMSS) (Does not require reading anything beforehand but related to/inspired by another series) [Complete]

Desperate Daybreak - The direct sequel to Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset. (The tag for posts about this story is still #MMSS) [Active]

Click the readmore for more info about my writing, recent updates list, and what I'm currently working on!

K+J fanfic - here and here. This is fanfiction of someone else's whump series (caution: graphic) [complete]

K+J x MMSS - Crossover between my vampire story and K+J [on hold]

Older writings:

Good Omens fanfiction: I am no longer active in the good omens fandom, but all my fanfiction can be found on my blog under #my good omens fanfiction, or on my AO3 for easier reading. My longest and most elaborate, OC-heavy series is Your Own Side. Most of my GOmens fanfiction was written using book canon, before the TV show came out.

Miscellaneous original short stories

Story 1 | Story 2 | Story 3 | Story 4 | Story 5 | Story 6

Lost story I need to put up again: The Gamble

PS:  Here is a link to my ko-fi if you want to tip!!   ABSOLUTELY don’t feel obligated to tip though, just figured I’d put this here because I put a lot of work into my fic so I’d make it possible to tip if you wanted to, don’t feel guilty for not doing it, it’s just an option :)

--------------------------

More select recent updates:

8/29/24 Tinytopia Chapter 12: Monoculture

8/18/24 Desperate Daybreak Chapter 8

7/16/24 Desperate Daybreak Chapter 7

7/7/24 Desperate Daybreak Chapter 6

7/4/24 Desperate Daybreak Chapter 5

6/30/24 Desperate Daybreak Chapter 4

6/28/24 Desperate Daybreak Chapter 3

6/22/24 Desperate Daybreak Chapter 2

5/25/24 Tinytopia Chapter 11: Bloodthirst (Part 3)

5/25/24 K&J x MMSS 4: Valen & Jim Part 7B

4/7/24 Savage Sunset Choose Your Own Adventure Finale

12/14/23 MMSS: Aftermath

12/2/23 Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset 29MS

-------------------------

Currently working on/coming next:

Tinytopia ch 12

Desperate Daybreak chapter 9

A short story for thewhumpyprintingpress collection "The Whumpboratory"

A standalone novella set in an original universe

A big surprise about MMSS 👀

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PPS: i have been on tumblr for a WHILE (like since circa 2015) and this blog has gone through many phases. If you happen to stumble across any of my old posts that are not properly tagged, or contain something problematic or offensive, please send me a private DM so I can address it.

[munstysmind]

TELLING SEBASTIAN - Maddison - An Original Story

WARNING/S: none

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE USED IN ANY CAPACITY

Divider by @firefly-graphics

MAIN MASTERLIST

MADDISON MASTERLIST

please let me know if you would like to be added to a tag list

{MARCH 2013}

It's been a few weeks since Maddie received the call from Kevin Feige and she’s still pinching herself. She can’t believe this is happening. Her first movie role and it's massive, it's Marvel.

Marvel had sent all the information over to her Agent and Manager. She's already signed her contract along with about a million other things, including an NDA.

This is going to be the hardest part, not being able to talk about it. She can’t even tell her parents yet because of the secrecy but she’s gotten permission to tell one of the most important people in her life, Sebastian.

She's sprawled out on the couch watching an episode on Once Upon A Time when he comes through the door, his suitcase in tow.

He's been away for a few months filming a movie and Maddie has really missed him. It’s the longest they’ve gone without seeing each other since her assault.

She wants so badly to jump up and give him a hug but she refrains, smiling to herself. He had no idea that she even auditioned for Marvel so this is going to be good.

"Hey you" he say, as he walks past to dump his stuff in his room. She doesn't answer him, she's too focused on Jefferson's decapitated head that was still talking.

"How was is?" she asks when he walks back into the room, her eyes still watching the TV.

"I was good. Glad to be home though, that flight, roughest one I think I've ever been on. How was yours?" he replies, throwing himself on the couch next to her, laying down and resting his head on her lap before closing his eyes.

"Uneventful, thankfully" she says as she threads her fingers through his hair and starts massaging his scalp, earning a quiet satisfied groan from him.

She flew back to New York yesterday. Even though she wrapped on Supernatural last month she’d stayed in Vancouver to be close to the guys. She knew Sebastian wouldn't be back until today and she didn't want to be in New York alone for that long.

"Seb, I need to tell you something" she says, looking down at him.

"What, what's wrong?" he asks, sitting up with a worried look on his face.

"Nothing" she says with a laugh "Nothing's wrong"

"Oh, OK" he says, letting out a sigh of relief and leaning back into the couch.

"So, remember last year when I went to LA to audition for that Disney film?"

"Yeah"

"Well I wasn't exactly honest with you about it"

"OK....."

"It was for Disney but it wasn't for Disney"

"OK, now I'm lost"

"It was for Marvel"

"What... why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want you to go all Sebastian on anything"

"MADDISON!!"

"Anyway, a few weeks ago on set I had a missed call and a voice message"

"OK. Mads where is this going?"

She takes out her phone and plays the voice message for him, nervously biting her thumbnail as she watches his eyes go wide. He just stares at her, trying to comprehend what he’s just heard.

"Seb?... Sebastian!!" she says, her heart pounding in her chest

"We’re going to be in a movie together?" he asks, a shocked look on his face

"Yeah" she says, unable to wipe the smile from her face

"We’re going to be in a movie together" he repeats excitedly

"We're going to be in a movie together" she repeats

"FUCK YEAH!! I'm going to be in a movie with my best friend" he yells, jumping up and down on the couch while she bursts out laughing.

TAGLIST

@aussieez

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked ~ Chapter 19

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open! Also, so sorry to be behind on this one. Life got in the way for awhile but I'm back!

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Previous: Chapter 18 ~ Daydream Believer

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 19 – Oh Good, You’re Home 

35 Weeks – Leia 

Ever heard the story of the scorpion and the frog? 

No? 

Quick side story.  There is a river and the scorpion trying to cross it. He sees the frog and says, “Hey Frog, do you think you can carry me across the river? 

The frog says, “No way, you’ll just sting me in the middle of the river, and I’ll die.” 

“No, I won’t because I want to get across. I promise I won’t sting you.”  

The frog begrudgingly accepts, and the scorpion climbs on him and they start to cross.  Halfway through the scorpion stings the frog . “Why did you do that? Now we’ll both die!” 

The scorpion just says, “Its just my nature.”  

Sometimes some people just can’t be trusted.  

Except, this is one person who I trusted before Andy.  

She had been my best friend.  And when my father died, I think she died with him. 

The woman at the door doesn’t look anything like the mother that raised me.  

“What are you doing here Mother?” I protected my bump as best I could.  

“I wanted to speak to you, Leighton.” She looked at my bump with a loving look. That’s different. 

“I have nothing to say to you or hear anything you have to say.” I moved to close the door, but she stopped me. 

“Leia-bear, just give me a few minutes.” Her eyes are pleading. Underneath all of the makeup and filler she has, I can see a flicker of the mother I used to know.  

“Five minutes,” I say and let her in.  

She glances around the living room.  It was different from the last time I saw her. Her gaze stops on the mantle. Over the fireplace is our favorite photo from my maternity shoot.  The one where Andy is cupping my face and kissing me softly. It was the perfect reminder of our love. “That’s a beautiful picture,” she finally says.  

“Thank you.” I sat back down and gave her a look.  “Why are you here? You made it very clear the last time I saw you that I am a disappointment at the choices that were half made for me and the ones I made to make sure my little girl is protected and loved.”  

“It’s a girl?” 

Dammit. I hadn’t meant for that to slip. “Yes.”  

“Congratulations.” She made a slight move towards me, like she wanted to touch my bump but stopped herself. “Leighton, I wanted to talk to you about Bret.”  

“What about him? I really hope that he went back to Japan.”  

“No, he’s still in town. He’s staying with me.”  

I sat up straighter. “What? Why would you do that?” Is she trying to kill me? He’s harboring my ex and my pregnant brain is on the fritz.  

“Well, he needed a place to stay for the few weeks that he is here since his house sold.” My mother straightens her diamond pendant on her necklace.  

“You understand that he is my ex and has nothing to do with my life or yours? Because he has no rights.”  

“I don’t understand what the problem is?” My mother scoffed.  

I don’t recognize the woman standing in front of me.  The mother that I remember was warm and caring. She made cookies and hot cocoa for my brother’s team after practice.  She took me to ballet and gymnastics, always with a snack. She made thanksgiving dinner and arts and crafts for Christmas.  Summer held snacks and games.  She was the mother most people dream about.  

I guess I was right. She died when my dad did.  

“You want to know the problem? Ok, here’s the problem. Your daughter was being controlled by a man that wanted a maid and nothing more.  That man told me my dreams were worthless.  That I wasn’t worth it. I told him about the baby, and I heard nothing. He doesn’t want me or my baby.  Did you know that I know he’s been having flings when we were together?  Yeah, that’s the dream man that you want me to be with.  Instead of being happy, you want me to be miserable.  Just because you’re miserable doesn't mean that I want that.”  

She’s silent but I don’t stop.  

“I know that it’s been hard since daddy died but we have been trying to support each other because that’s what family does.  You checked out and never came back. I didn’t know we became orphans that day, but we did. You don’t know me; you don’t want what’s best for me. Because you would want, I was able to get myself, a man who loves me, you encourage me, who supports me, who dreams with me, who cares for my daughter as if it were his own.”  

I took a breath and looked at her tear-filled eyes.  “If you don’t want me to be happy like I have found, then please leave me alone. Don’t come back.  Until you make up your mind, I need you to please leave.”  

I wiped at my face as my mother walked out the door. I sink onto the bench that’s by the door and try to calm my body. It was cathartic really. Getting all of the unspoken words out was good. I didn’t mean to get worked up but I can’t change that.  After I feel my breathing slowing down, I move to get up and I am rocked with a pain around my middle. “Shit,” i groan.  I wait to see if there is another pain, but it’s gone. I must have Braxton Hicks contractions.  

I move to call Andy and Luke but they go to voicemail so they must be in practice.  I sigh and move to get a drink. As I make it to the fridge, another pain seared across my bump. I hang on to the fridge handle as I ride this out.   

I reach for my baby book, trying to find advice on how to get myself out of these Braxton Hicks. Plenty of fluids, warm preferred and a bath.  I can do this; I can relax again.  I pull out the kettle and tea. Once I have that, I head upstairs to our bathroom. I love that Andy got a jacuzzi tub, but I just need the warmth. As the tub fills, I pull out my favorite lavender bubble bath and add it in. Soon, I’m neck deep in bubbles and I can feel myself relaxing.  But at the same time, I’m thinking about my mom.  

She seriously thinks I should be with someone who only saw me as arm candy and nothing more. That isn’t how I was raised, and she knows it. My dad treated her like an equal. He shared the responsibilities and made sure his family was taken care of. I don’t know who this pod-person is that looks my mother but she certain is not any longer. The thoughts bring another flash of pain in my belly. “Ok,” I say out loud as I stroke my belly, I’ll stop thinking about her. “Just relax, little one. Daddy isn’t here and you need to be patient to come out.”  

The pains come and go for the next couple of hours until I’m hit with one that last longer than the others. “Fuck, this hurts,” I mumble.  

That would be the least of my problems.  

Jeremy 

Being injured sucks.  

Getting a concussion sucks more.  

I can’t believe that Craig, my old teammate, had the balls to crash into me like he did. Now I’m out at least two weeks in concussion protocol.  At least my vision is ok, its just a lingering headache.  I’m in my apartment waiting for a call from Stella when the phone rings.  And I’m shocked to see who the caller is.  

“Leia?” 

“Jeremy, please tell me you’re home and you can drive?” 

I furrow my brow. “Oh yeah.”  

“Oh good. Because I’m home alone and my water just broke.”  

The fuck did she say? 

“Your water broke?” 

“Yeah, I think I’m in labor and I’m five weeks early.” I can hear the heavy breathing through the phone. “Please help me.”  

“I’m on the way.”  

This was not on my bingo card this year.  

I jump in my car and race to Andy and Leia’s.  I knock but the door opens.  “Leia?” 

“In here,” she calls from upstairs.  The woman is in labor and she’s upstairs.  Can’t be easy right? 

I take two stairs at a time and see Leia bent over the bed and breathing hard. I come up behind her and rub her back.  “Breathe, Leia.”  After a moment, she tries to stand. “Are you ok?” 

“Yeah,” she huffs. “That was the longest one so far.” She looks at me and I can see the pain in her eyes and the sweat on her brow. “I need to get to the hospital, and I can’t get a hold of Andy or Stella or my brother.” I can see she wants to cry.  

“Ok, I’ll call coach or the GM and get a hold of them. Let’s get you down the stairs and to the car, ok?” She nods before pointing to a bag on the floor.  

“I need that.”  

“I got it.” Then I take her hands and help her down.  Right in the middle, she gets hit with another contraction and withers.  I take hold of her as she grips my shirt. “It hurts,” she cries.  

“I know. I’m sorry I can’t be more help. Just breathe it out, ok? In one, two three four, out two, three, four.”  The contraction passes and I get her into the car.  I use the bluetooth and call Coach.  

“Swayman, I’m kinda...” 

“Andy’s girl is in labor. Leia is in labor and I’m taking her to Boston General.” 

“Holy... ok hang on. Barber, Andrews!” I can hear coach skate towards them.  “Get your shit together and get to the airport.  Leia is in labor.”   

“But she’s early,” I hear Andy say.  

“Just go,” Coach orders. “Jeremy is driving her there.”  I don’t hear anything from the guys.  “Sway, keep us updated.” 

“Will do Coach.”  I hang up and look at Leia. “You ok?”  

“I’m fine just uncomfortable. Jeremy, please don’t leave me.”  

I take her hand. “I’m right here, every step of the way.” 

Leia 

This is not how I thought I would be making my way to the hospital. But I won’t complain because Jeremy answered the call and brought me here. I’m so scared and in a lot of pain.  As Jeremy walks me into the hospital, another pain streaks through. I grip onto Jeremy’s hand and try to ride it out.  

“Holy fuck,” I hear him whisper. I want to laugh but the pain is overwhelming. It finally subsides and I let go. He shakes he hand out but gives me a tight smile. “It’s ok,” when he sees my eyes watering. “Its my glove hand. If it stays in that position, maybe it will help me stop the puck.”  

“I’m sorry,” I cry just as a nurse brings me a wheelchair. “I think I hurt him,” I told the nurse.  

“No, I’m fine,” Jeremy says, flexing his hand. “I wasn’t ready for it, but I am now.” He gives the nurse a smile. One I see he gives fans not his pickup one.  That’s odd.  

“Ok, let’s get your wife admitted,” she says.  

“Oh, no,” we both say. “My boyfriend is on his way. My friend is helping me.”  I give her a smile. “But he can stay with me right?” 

“Of course. We’ll just ask him to step out when we check on you.” She takes us up to labor and delivery and get me hooked up.  

“You talked to Andy?” I asked Jeremy.  

“Yeah, they were boarding from Toronto. He should be here in about three hours.”  

“Ok. My book says that first pregnancies can take up to twenty-four hours of labor because your body isn’t used to it so that gives us plenty of time.”  My doctor comes in right then.  

“Leia, I thought we had an agreement.” She gives me a smile and looks up and is startled. “Oh, I thought...” 

“Andy is on his way,” I explain. “Jeremy was home and...” 

“I get it.” Dr. Montgomery smiles. “Well, Jeremy, if you can step out for a moment.” 

“I’ll call Coach and give him an update.” He leans over and kisses the top of my head. “I’ll be right back, don’t freak out.” 

I smile and once he’s out the door I look at Dr. Montgomery.  “Tell me Andy has time.” 

The doc examines me and I don’t like the look on her face. “Leia, you are at 7 centimeters and full effaced. I’m guessing that we have max two hours before you are gonna start pushing.”  

“But, Andy isn’t here.  He has to be here to hold her and cut the cord.” I can hear the alarms going off on the monitors. “I... I can’t do this without him.” 

“Ok, sweetie, we need you to breathe.” Dr Montgomery takes my hand. “Get Jeremy back in here,” she orders a nurse. “Leia, you need to try to calm yourself.  You’re putting your self into tachycardia and making the baby’s heartbeat drop.”  

“I need him,” I cry as Jeremy runs back into the room.  “Jeremy, I can’t do this without him.”  

He sits and takes my hand. “I know, Leia, but you’re not alone, ok? You’re so strong, gorgeous. I’ll be right here, no matter what. I want to meet her, fresh from the oven.” That gets a giggle, which helps the monitors relax. “That’s it. Good girl.”  

“Talk to me. Tell me anything,” I tell him.  We spend the next couple of hours talking, forgiving, forgetting. Suddenly, another alarm goes off. “Jeremy?” 

“I don’t know,” he says as a nurse rushes in to check the alarm.  

“Page Dr. Montgomery!” she yells as other nurse come in.  “Ok Leia, we need to put you on your side, right now.  Jeremy, come to this side.” There is a flurry of activity, and I can feel myself panicking.  

“Jeremy?” He takes my hand. “What’s happening?” He asks no one in particular.  

Dr. Montgomery rushes in and looks at the report the nurses. “Ok, Leia, if the baby doesn’t respond to the body change in the next few minutes, I’m going to take you in for an emergency c-section.”  

My eyes are wide with fear, and I can see it on Jeremy’s face as well.  “He’s not going to make it,” I whisper, resigned. 

“I’m sorry Leia, but if you are ok with it, I’ll be in there with you.” Jeremy squeezes my hand.  

A few minutes later, I hear, “I’m sorry Leia. Get her ready for transport and find some scrubs for Jeremy.” I see everyone moving to get me set up for the surgery. Jeremy gets handed a blue bundle of clothes and leaves for a second.  Then I’m being wheeled out and to the operating room.  

This is it.  

I’m sorry Andy. 

And I pray that my daughter is ok.  

NEXT

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