#If i ever did have a kid ill have to be with the most caring and calm guy lol. Otherwise id be too scared and deppressed about the

[auspicioustidings]

Ae Fond Kiss - Part 4

A Prayer in the Prospect of Death

Summary: The years pass and you find out how Simon feels about you before a familiar face arrives. Words: 2.8k

Parts: 1 2 3 4

“Tell me luv.”

Simon had his fingers tucked under your chin to tilt your head up so you could no longer easily hide. Urgh he was so bloody perceptive. 

“It’s silly.”

“You’re always silly, now tell me.”

You fought the urge to blow a raspberry at him. He was truly the most stubbornly protective human you had ever met and he never just let things go if you said it was fine. He always knew when something was bothering you despite your attempts to hide it. 

“What am I supposed to do when Joey starts nursery?”

You sighed and dropped any attempt to hide how miserable the thought made you. When you and Johnny had gotten married you had decided that you’d be a stay at home mum. You didn’t have a career you were attached to and Johnny made enough to support the household. Honestly you had come to enjoy it in the last year. You decorated your home for every holiday, experimented in the kitchen until you were actually a very good home cook and baker, always felt safe and content with how well you knew your own space and how cosy and clean you kept it. 

It was never how you imagined yourself if you were honest, a homemaker. The idea of you actually sort of enjoying cleaning would have made you feel somewhat ill 5 years ago. But now you were in your own home with a toddler you loved to death and, though you often were reluctant to admit it out loud, a man you loved to death. You had been front and centre for all of Joey’s firsts and you wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

Simon missed his first steps. Johnny had been fine doing video calls while he was on base during off hours, but you didn’t even have the number of Simon’s work phone. It used to frustrate you that it felt like he didn’t even exist the moment he left for work, but he had spoken about his family on your first Christmas together and it made you understand. He would never carry anything on him as the Ghost that could link back to you, even in the relative safety of the base during downtime. 

Now Joey would be out of the house for most of the day. You could have waited, not sent him to nursery and just kept him home until school, but you knew it would be for your sake rather than his. He loved being around other kids and some of the friends he had made from you taking him to every toddler group in the area in an attempt to be a good mother would be starting nursery as well. 

Could you just do nothing all day? Between Johnny’s insurance and death in service benefits and Simon insisting on funnelling money in, you could certainly afford it now, but it felt so wrong when Johnny was dead and Simon was doing the exact job that had killed him.

“What do you mean? You do the same as you do right now if you’re still happy doing it but without him.”

“Lounge around and do nothing while you are out risking your life you mean.”

Simon considered, always careful to think the situation through rather than reply impulsively. He was annoyed with himself for not seeing sooner that you were undervaluing yourself, only considering taking care of Joey which was a full time job in itself as contributing. While it had been a source of bitter guilt in the beginning, he had started to forget how much younger you were than him. He really should have seen it, no woman in her early 20s saw her full worth. 

“Princess, you decorated this whole house while I was deployed and you’re the one that fixes things or organises for them to be fixed when they break. You cook almost all our meals from scratch and then make extra to donate to the community kitchen. The garden is immaculate because you follow the planting plan you made yourself and are out there doing maintenance every day. You do not now nor have you ever lounged about doing nothing, even if I would like it if you did.”

He already felt bad enough about it. When he was home he threw himself in, tried to take as much off of you as possible even when he was nowhere near as fast or good at things. If anything he was contributing nowhere near enough money to cover all the full time jobs you were gracefully juggling (only because it had already been a fight to accept any money at all, he gave you what you accepted and then put almost the rest of his pay into an account for Joey).

“Shut up!” you whined, battering fists against his chest as your face flamed. 

You had lived together now for just around 3 years. You had been intimately involved for 2. It still absolutely floored you when he was nice to you and made butterflies erupt in your stomach. It was so ridiculous to feel like some wide eyed teen with a crush when it came to this idiot. Unfortunately his favourite hobby was fucking with you when you were taken off guard like this.

“Aww baby girl, you know how much I appreciate everything you do for me and Joe don’t you? We’d fall apart without you beautiful” he said in a smooth rumble, peppering kisses across your cheeks and down your neck. 

It wasn’t fair that he could just tease you with a version of him that adored you. A version that you enjoyed even if you didn’t really think it was real. Sure there had been a maybe ‘I love you’ years ago after all that sexual tension broke and he seemed to be happy enough, but you could only imagine that if he ever knew how you felt about him he would run. The last 3 years you had fought at every turn to protect your heart, but you had stopped denying at least to yourself that it was pathetically his now.  

“Don’t do that.”

“You don’t want praise and kisses?”

He raised an eyebrow and tried to hide a small smile. You loved praised and kisses, he knew that because in the bedroom he could use that to turn you into a pile of obedient princess who did whatever he said if it would earn you his adulation. But it was just sex wasn’t it? 

“I don’t want you to pretend.”

He was confused by that and you wanted to sink into the floor to avoid this conversation. You had been avoiding it for a while now. 

“I… fuck. Simon, I don’t- it’s not just sex to me” you choked out, not sure how to put it into words without straight out admitting that you were hopelessly in love with him and wanted him in you and J’s lives permanently. 

“Christ, you pretty little idiot” he growled, grabbing your face roughly in his hands. “I love you. I am in love with you. I’m not Johnny, I don’t do big romantic gestures. I’m not the kind of man to tell you all the time how I feel. I’m the kind of man who is a selfish bastard because I don’t give a fuck if you deserve someone who does. You are mine. You have been for years. Do you understand me?”

You could only blink wide-eyed as your brain tried to catch up with the whole world restarting itself after the shock.  

“Do you understand me?” he snapped. 

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl… wanna get married?”

You stuttered out an outraged shout, feeling the tears that had been building drying up at the audacity of this man. 

“Johnny took me to the cabin. He made me a replica of the first dinner we had together and set the table outside during the sunset. He organised for fireworks!”

“Told you I don’t do romantic gestures.”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine, let’s get married Casper. You’re the fucking worst.”

“Don’t I know it princess. I’m not wearing a tie.”

“Then I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Yes you bloody well are!”

“Wanna bet?!”

-

He did not wear a tie, but Joey did. Your dress was beautiful. Gaz officiated your wedding for the second time. Price said there was an emergency so he couldn’t make it - you weren’t really sure you believed him.

-

As you cleared up after the whirlwind that was breakfast in a house with a 9 year old late for school, you sighed and stuck on a heat patch. You were starting to wonder if being off birth control was maybe a little pointless because in the past 18 months it had only reminded you how much you hated periods after years of them being gone as a useful side effect.

It had been something you were speaking about since you got married. You had always wanted more kids. Simon had never even expected he’d have one. You were terrified of a repeat of your first pregnancy, he was terrified that his genes were poisonous. You had enough money with his hefty pay and your small business (you had started it up soon after Joey had started nursery and you got a lot of orders for events, birthdays and weddings for sets of biscuits. You imagined wherever Johnny was he was howling with laughter that you had turned into a home baker after all the kitchen disasters he had seen). 

In the end it had been Joseph who made the decision. One shrugged mention of how he thought it’d be nice to have a little sibling and that was that. There was not one thing in the whole wide world you and Simon would not give him if it was in your power. Although you were starting to think it wasn’t in your power at all. 

It wasn’t like you didn’t have an active sex life and in honesty it had only gotten more active from the breeding kink Simon had uncovered as soon as it was a possibility. But it just hadn’t happened. 

You wondered if it was better that it hadn’t, at least until Joey was 10. That was when you had agreed you would tell him everything. On advice of a psychologist you had told him that Simon wasn’t his biological father very early on, as early as he could understand the concept, although stressed he was still his dad. The only thing you mentioned about his biological father was that he had died even though that was very much against the psychologists advice, she had said to tell him everything about Johnny.

But in 4 months he would turn 10 and he knew that you would answer his questions then. It was shitty of the two of you really, to hide Johnny until now. Joey’s grandmother still saw him, but she never talked about her son or who he was. It was cowardice. Simon had been speaking with a therapist for years about how to let go of the idea that Johnny died because he couldn’t save him. You felt ill at the idea of your son knowing you had married his dead father’s best friend. Both of you were so scared of Johnny’s ghost that you kept him from his son for nearly a decade. 

Well sort of. Joey knew who Johnny was, just not that he was his father. There were photos of him in the house. Whenever Gaz, Price and their partner (that had been a whole drama, but you were happy the three of them finally worked it out) were around, sometimes they would reminisce about him. Well Gaz and Simon did, Price would just look pained and excuse himself to get a drink.

You could only hope that Joey wouldn’t hate you, but then he was such a great kid. A little wild, but incredibly kind and empathetic beyond his years. He had Johnny’s eyes. You thought that he’d understand when you explained it all. Maybe he’d yell at you for thinking he would blame you for falling in love with his dad, but he’d understand. 

You focused on cleaning up and getting the kitchen back clean and cosy how you liked it, deciding not to borrow worries from the future.

–

Price had told him to settle his arse down in the base and let him travel down and talk to him before he went anywhere. Johnny ignored him. He had just saved the fucking world, there was not one thing that was going to keep him from his wife and child one second longer.

He had debriefed already, been medically cleared to leave. He knew the paperwork was going to be horrendous given that he was legally dead, but frankly he’d leave it for the intelligence agencies to deal with given how much of a big bloody favour he had just done them. He got your address off of them given that Price hadn’t given it to him, just telling him to wait until he got there. Fuck that.

It didn’t take too long to get himself there. It was oddly comforting hearing all the English accents after a decade of hearing almost entirely Russian even if he’d be moving your pretty arse back North of the border as soon as he could. Not a chance was his family living in Carlisle. He wondered why you would move that far from the Highlands where his family was. You had always been no contact with your own family, maybe you had reconciled with them and moved to be closer? 

He would find out. Whatever it was he’d support you. God he loved you, he had missed you so fucking much. He had imagined the reunion for years, thought of your smile and your laugh when he needed to remind himself what he was fighting for, thought of your soft skin and tight pussy when he needed to relieve some tension with his right hand. Whenever he sent up a prayer in the prospect of death, it was for you that he prayed he would survive.

He thought of how he’d hold you for days when he got back. He knew you would have raised a wonderful son and he could not wait to meet the person he had become. He’d hold him as well, spend days cuddled up and watching movies with his family. 

And then he’d take you to the cabin and lose himself in your body. Fuck it was strange to think he’d have to consider it wasn’t just you two anymore. He didn’t want to lose any time with his son, but he needed alone time with you as well. He’d work it out. 

The house was nice, sort of quaint with the pretty flowers both real and painted on the door. It hurt knowing if he hadn’t been away you’d have something bigger. You would have had to for a growing family. 

He wished he had stopped and gotten a change of clothes and a haircut. He was in military issued sweats and a hoodie and his hair had grown out to curl around his ears. He really should have shaved as well, a task he hadn’t had time for in the chaos of the last few months. But fuck it, he was here and he couldn’t wait. 

It was almost like an out of body experience knocking on the door, knowing he was seconds away from you. He should have realised that there was another person around who could answer the door, but he hadn’t been thinking. The Joseph he knew was a tiny baby, not a bright eyed kid with a toothy grin in a football strip (a bloody Man U strip at that, Johnny just knew his uncle Simon would have had a hand in that and it made him grin knowing his best friend was still in his son’s life).

“Ye got big!” he belted, excited beyond proper introductions at seeing his son. 

The kid furrowed his brows for a moment before he brightened with recognition. Johnny assumed now was about the time for crying and yelling and hugging. He was unprepared for the alternative. 

“I know you! You’re dad’s Sergeant! I thought you died.”

His heart lurched, putting the dots together well before his brain could. 

“Joe hurry it up! We’ll miss kick-off!”

Johnny knew that voice. It was not yours. 

“I’m ready!”

“You better be! Right, who’s at the door then?”

The voice got closer and even though he wanted to run Johnny was rooted to the spot. It felt like the next 10 seconds as the footsteps and voice came closer was hours. The door swung wider open as a hand pulled on it from behind and then he was looking into the eyes of Simon Riley. The silence was deafening until Johnny broke it.

“What the fuck did you do Si!”

[mrfoox]

I'll probably never know if I actually don't want kids or if I'm just too scared about passing on bad genes and have them suffer and that's sad

[satoruin]

➣ matchmaking or meddling?

pairing: satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count: 1.6K

summary: you find out just how much your students have been meddling in your love life, though you can’t really be mad.

notes from lee: i’m afraid to make this look like an award acceptance speech so ill be brief. had to make a fic for the namesake of the blog and a very late hbd to boo (@2018-01-20). kinda wish i had more interactions with the kids, but i ended up w/ a lot of gojo pov also unedited

Looking back it should have been obvious what these kids of yours were up to. Yes, they were the reason you were in this god-forsaken closet with a blindfolded fool.

You’re only really aware of their meddling now as you hear their snickers from the hallway, so you can’t quite tell when their meddling started. But it makes sense that they were plotting something, but was it in collaboration with Satoru? Because it seemed like every mishap or coincidence between your two classes, Satoru took it in stride and turned it into his advantage. Just like he was taking advantage of the situation now…

Thinking back, your first clue should have been with the sticky notes. A note scrawled on a pink sticky note, in actually legible handwriting, addressed to you like a valentine. Reading, “from: Satoru ;D to: (y/n) <3; do you look this good every day or do i just not remove my blindfold enough????” It’s on top of a stack of papers handed over by the ever-stoic Fushiguro. Surely to get your guard down, and it did.

When you interrogate your fellow teacher about it later, he keeps his normal all-knowing grin plastered on his face. Now they, being the kids who orchestrated it, don’t need to do any work as every day after that there’s a new sticky note somewhere for you to see. They vary in color, most in some shade of pink, some with bad pick-up lines, others with a stick figure drawing, or the very rare ones hidden away with words that make you spit out your drink.

Or maybe another tip off should have been the ‘coincidental’ times you’d have the second years out on the training field and he just so happened to also plan a demonstration for the first years at the same time. But then again you don’t hear their snickering above your irritation at the white-haired man as he lets you jab a finger into his chest, with his annoying smirk.

But they notice you don’t care anymore that he peeks his head over your shoulder to look at your teaching outline just so he can do the ‘coincidental’ planning now.

And still the biggest hint that you fall for every time, is when they leave you at the cafe with just Satoru after begging for a weekend meetup. And again, when they ask to have team dinners, study sessions, or extra training, it's ridiculous. Your gullibility and trust in them is commendable, but it’s become laughable as you still trust in the kids to show up. And they do, just in disguise from across wherever you are as they watch Satoru come to your rescue every time.

Maybe the more ridiculous part is when the rare glimpse of their teacher’s eyes is pointed, peeking through their poorly crafted disguises, at them from across the room with a smirk.

He’s noticed for a while now that the kids are playing matchmaker, and their skills are much better than those his clan hires. And to be honest, he doesn’t mind, if anything he finds it cute that they think he needs the help. Though admittedly they do have some good ideas. Each one never fails to fluster you, in your own cute and angry way, as he takes over their schemes. His six-eyes catch the flurry of texts sent every time he does so, which he’s sure just encourages them further.

Satoru’s not quite sure when his feelings for you developed. He’s always found you attractive, especially when you were his cute kouhai (he still likes to call you that in order to annoy you until you begrudgingly call him senpai once again.). Everything he learns about you only adds to his initial interest. He’s a sucker for getting to know the little things, like your favorite dinner spot after a tough mission or what your ideal day off is. Once you accept his feelings he’ll put the knowledge you deem useless to good work.

But there’s a moment that sits so starkly in his memory as the first time he realized he was in love with you and not just intrigued or infatuated.

It was maybe around the time Tsumiki had gotten sick and though Megumi was self sufficient, Satoru didn’t feel that he should be alone. He knows he’s not the best at comfort, hell he could barely comfort himself, so he sends you.

And he’s not overly worried about you, you’re a teacher so he’s sure you’ll get through to the ever prickly Megumi just fine. Plus you’ve always been significantly better at handling emotional situations, he knows first hand. So when he comes to check on you after finishing his mission, he smiles at your success.

Megumi’s head rests on your lap, asleep, and you’re slumped over the armrest. There’s a twang of jealousy that pricks at his mind, wishing it was him in your lap instead, but all he can think about is having you greet him as he comes home and Megumi and Tsumiki sitting for dinner and that would be yours and his alone.

He’s never felt like someone that would settle down or want a family, especially given the circumstances of his status. But you, in this moment, make him want to move past the shrewdness of the higher ups and his clan, and just have you. He longs for something that is just his, not part of Jujutsu Society, the higher ups, or his clan, or even Satoru Gojo, he wants things just for Satoru, just for him.

You are that something, that someone, he wants, he’s convinced that he needs you like the air he breathes. The weird surge of emotions that have been kept bottled up since a dark day suddenly seems to make sense and it has a name, it’s love.

So when he’s reminiscing on his feelings, it really has been there all along, but it’s that very specific moment in which his love for you was defined.

And the apex of all his work in gently guiding you to realize your feelings, that he’s very sure are there, is in a closet of all places. His blue eyes glow dimly in the dark of the closet with the snickers of his students on the other side.

“Hey,” he breathes out, much less confident than he intended, but you make him nervous.

You meet his bright eyes briefly before looking away and returning the greeting, “Um, hi.”

His breath hitches and his mind blanks, every funny line or flirty remark he could make right now is gone. He can’t think about anything other than you, how cute your expression is, how good your hair looks even slightly messed up, but mainly your lips and how much he needs to kiss you before he leaves this cramped closet. “How are you?”

You blink at him incredulously, “We’re in a closet, Gojo. How do you think I am?”

He tosses his head back and groans as you use his last name, he thought he’d gotten you to call him Satoru like pretty much everyone did. “C’mon (Y/n), you know I hate when you call me that.” He whines and pouts, jutting his bottom lip out like a toddler.

He watches the guilt flash across your face briefly, surely it’s you remembering how he confided in you about hating the weight that came with his last name. “Sorry, I know. I know,” you pause and he senses your hesitancy and waits, “Satoru.”

He’s got a big shit-eating grin on his face that differs from his usual smirk as he rocks on his feet with his heart fluttering.

“You really like it that much when I call you ‘Satoru’?” You ask, eyeing up his body language with a skeptical look.

“Maybe.” He answers in a sing-song tone, he’s back to his usual self, “But you know what I’d like more?”

He leans in close and glances down at your lips. No matter how many times he does this, it always results in him pulling away with a teasing smile. So when he feels your hands wrap around the neck of his uniform and pull him closer, it’s certainly a surprise.

“You want a kiss?” You ask and he nods meekly, if possible, and you do, you kiss him. Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as his heart flutters in his stomach. His big hands reach up to cup your face and keep you glued to his lips. Gods, it’s everything he’s dreamed about and more.

When you part from him to catch your breath, he’s smiling. “I hope you know I want much more than a kiss.” He waits for you to breathe and to watch your reaction before smashing his lips onto yours again.

Satoru feels your arms wrapped around his neck and how your hands crawl through his undercut to tug at his hair. And he’s similar, the hands once holding your face have traced down your body to your hips so he can hold you close.

The knock on the door cuts your time short, your tongues and bodies having to part. Satoru watches as you smooth over your clothes and hair before he pulls up his blindfold. The door opens not a moment later to reveal the two classes waiting with bated breath to see something scandalous.

They are disappointed, fortunately for you and your image as a teacher. None of the students have the time to catch the heavy blush on his face as he slips away while you lecture them. But they do notice how flustered you are when you get a text from Satoru, “dinner 2nite?”

[yurinaa-world]

Hello! Could I request for Aventurine and Sunday as single parents headcanons?

Characters: Aventurine & Sunday !platonic x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: Aventurine and Sunday as single parents

Warnings fluff, spelling mistakes,

Notes: I just saw that my request the oldest ones date back to the beginning of March. (IM SORRY ill try not to rush them but also just them out quickly so everyone is happy)

𝒜𝓋𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑒

He's the type of parent to spoil his kids but also sorta strict but like in a fun way y’know. Like giving you a lot of candy but he’ll make sure you brush your teeth. Then if you don’t he’ll tell you a scary story about how the tooth fairy sees that you didn’t brush your teeth and she takes you away and traps you in her basement, taking all your teeth away since you can’t take care of them so you don’t deserve them.

Spoils so much. Whenever he’s gone for a couple of days because of the IPC, he brings so many gifts back for you, it’s not like he wants to do their dirty work so it's more like bringing gifts to both of you since seeing you happy makes him happy.

He got you a jar once filled with candy that you both would share taking two out each—for the both of you—it’s special to you since you both always share two to symbolize another good day for the two of you yet you won't take one unless he’s there with you since how can it be a good day if he’s not there. (stole that from The Male Lead's Little Lion Daughter)

Oh, he's def the type when you ask him to teach you card tricks the first time he messes with you and shows you the most complicated card trick you’ve ever seen then hands you the deck, starting at you as if expects you to do what he just did in your sleep or somethin’

Ugh, he’s also the type to read your bedtime story no matter how old you get. He still reads you Cinderella.

𝒮𝓊𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓎

You’re his perfect child. As everyone looks up to him, the people around your age do the same. You both are a perfect duo to each other. Almost like a spitting image of him with the way you act. 

He’s the type of parent who you don’t like to do something that he would dislike…it’s not an angry expression or frustrated words but disappointment…just that disappointed look on his face without any words to say just staring at you with that look on his face bring shivers down your spine. “I told you many times did I tell you to not do that…sigh, I'm disappointed in you.”

You always accompany him whenever he anywhere to go—you’re sort like his pet bird just waiting for him to give you any kind of command, forget being his assistant you’re more like a pet—you both always look good together maybe you might able to live up to how good of a duo that Sunday and Robin are but that’s far in the future and as if you have a chance.

He’s loving, patting your head whenever you do something good, it makes you so happy to get the slightest of his attention since he’s always working so hard for the small amount of attention is good enough for you.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[astonmartinii]

if you’re down to do it i’d love a part 2 to opposites attract with mick 👀

opposites attract part two | mick schumacher social media au

part one

masterlist

pairing: mick schumacher x reader

both beloved and feared in the paddock, y/n y/ln will defend her bf until the end, no matter who it is.

(hope you all enjoy 🫡 i love this pairing)

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, mickschumacher and 477,034

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername: chat shit, get banged

view all 85,349 comments

user49 so. fucking. iconic

mickschumacher i love you, thank you for defending our family

yourusername always <3

user99 hold on a second... our family??? we engaged?

user53 it's probably just a phrase bestie let's not get too crazy

charles_leclerc i'm so scared of you

yourusername good - you want me to swing at ferrari?

user45 truly the ride or die we all need in our lives

mickschumacher

liked by yourusername, sebastianvettel and 882,309 others

mickschumacher: family is everything ❤️

view all 83,012 comments

user49 the fact that he considers y/n family is so so cute

yourusername awww mickey !! i love you guys so much, i'd do anything for y'all xx

gina_schumacher love you all ❤️

mercedesamgf1 family 💜

user23 i'm so glad mick has someone like y/n on his side, not only defending him always but also his family xx

f1wagsupdates

liked by mickschumacher, user45 and 1,089 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: y/n y/ln makes her first appearance in the paddock since her incident with the paparazzi. she joined mick in the mercedes garage for the weekend - we're glad she's back !!

view all comments

user33 lmao mick in the likes he's down so bad

user88 finally some good fucking food

user21 ahhhh did y'all see ted fucking flinch when he saw her i'm glad they all know what a bad bitch she is and she'll call anyone's ass out

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, jackdoohan and 721,450 others

tagged: mickschumacher

yourusername: let's rideeeeee or whatever charli xcx said

view all 112,875 comments

user37 war is over y/n is back in the paddock i missed her so much

mickschumacher gonna make it bring your gf to work day every race from now on

yourusername sounds good to me i love the merc catering so much better than haas

user44 LMAO SHE STILL GOT THE DIG IN

estebanocon omg besties back in the paddock

yourusername este bestie !!!! i've missed you and elena need to do something asap xx

f1

liked by mickschumacher, danielricciardo and 330,671 others

f1: host martin brundle has picked up an illness during the weekend and has chosen y/n y/ln, internet personality and host, to take over his hosting responsibilities on race day 🏁

view all 72,109 comments

user56 i love how they don't mention that she's with mick and that she is a host by trade

mickschumacher i know she'll be the best replacement ever ❤️

yourusername awwww thank you babe xxx

user48 i know this is gonna be the most chaotic grid walk ever

user11 but she'll defo ask the questions we all want to know the answer to cause this ain't her full time job who cares if sky don't like it

danielricciardo can't wait to watch it all unfold

mickschumacher

liked by estebanocon, lancestroll and 541,098 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: what a weekend for the team, but also for us!! my baby made her grid walk debut and killed it xx i love you and am so so proud of you 💘

view all 83,451 comments

user34 will it ever be my turn

user41 i confess - i think i have a parasocial relationship with these two

user78 me and you bestie

estebanocon ahhhh she was great!!

lancestroll as the kids say i think she slayed 💅

yourusername teehee thank you guys

gina_schumacher doing us all proud!!

yourusername ahhh thank you gina 💛

yourusername added to their story

[caption: getting the goods for a certain someone's birthday bash]

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 1,203,455 others

yourusername: i didn't know we had this many friends - sorry switzerland 😞

view all 223,078 comments

danielricciardo i'm never going to another party with you I AM SCARRED

maxverstappen1 you have impressive planning skills - are you open for bookings?

mickschumacher thank you very much baby (you can deal with the noise complaints)

sebastianvettel so this is what we could hear

charles_leclerc you guys are weak - i had a great time, thanks y/n and happy birthday mick !!

estebanocon i love you guys but i wish i wasn't so close to you guys how are we still cleaning up ?

yourusername because we need to make sure things are properly recycled @sebastianvettel

sebastianvettel good good (you don't have to impress me i already love you and mick together)

yourusername thank you for the validation seb

mickschumacher LESS TALKING MORE RECYCLING

mickschumacher

liked by gina_schumacher, estebanocon and 1,340,234 others

tagged: yourusername

mickschumacher: thank you for the best birthday ever babygirl! while the party is something i'll never forget, just being able to spend time with you and the rest of our family was the best thing ever. also prize for best birthday gift ever goes to you for tony the goat, i love him and the fact you got him for and i quote "to remind me of my dad and me in the future". i love you and our growing farm family

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user48 A GOAT FOR HIS BIRTHDAY? TO REMIND HIM OF MICHAEL? FOR MICK BEING THE GOAT IN THR FUTURE? I LOVE THEM

estebanocon can't wait to meet the little guy

yourusername i love you baby - you deserve everything !!! @mercedesamgf1 paddock pass for tony when

mercedesamgf1 happy birthday mick! we're on it 🫡 (admin is scared of you)

user39 omg pls grid walk with tony would be so iconic

charles_leclerc so there was a goat at mick's house i just thought i was really drunk

sebastianvettel welcome to the farm dad life mick - happy birthday x

[lime1991]

those mlp infection aus on tiktok have been alright but heres my idea to consider:

the main characters of the au are the cmc. theyre not the lone survivors, and heres why: the infection almost entirely affects adults. this is just like a book i read in 5th grade, thats where im stealing this from.

Applebloom is the self appointed leader, shes best at foraging for food and growing it as well as building re-enforcements for the shelter (which is the clubhouse. it's higher up so they dont have to worry about most infected ponies reaching them.)

Scootaloo is the defender of the base as well as the group in general. shes the one who handles the weapons and is first to sacrifice herself for her friends to get to safety. She says its because he doesnt want to hold them back due to her disability, they tell her she doesnt have to think like that. but its hard not to.

Sweetie Belle is... not all there. sometimes she forgets the apocalypse has happened and that most of her loved ones are dead. Scootaloo and Applebloom take turns sleeping during the night to make sure someone is always lookout. that, and they can't risk Sweetie Belle unknowingly walking into the dark trying to get home.

Partially inspired by one of the best animes ive ever seen: School Live, Scootaloo and Applebloom sometimes, when Sweetie is having an episode, pretend everything is normal. Is the most they can do for their friend, who is clearly so traumatized that her brain blocks out the reality of their situation. Sometimes, Applebloom wishes that could happen to her.

When the infection started, it slowly took over the elderly first. Granny Smith got sick, fast. Big Mac and Applejack took care of her, but only a few days later she would turn into some kid of monstrous creature. Big Mac did the unspeakable act of putting her out of her misery.

Sweetie Bell was sent to go live with Rarity while her mother was sick. Her father began to feel ill too, and didn't want her to get herself and her friends at school sick as well. She could hear over the phone the conversations her sister and father had. How mom was getting worse, how dad was getting worse. How they stopped calling altogether.

A couple days into the widespread sickness, Scootaloo's aunts took a trip to the store to stock up on groceries just incase a quarantine was issued. They were gone for hours. They were gone for days. They never came back. Eventually, Scootaloo traveled outside of her home by herself, and could never return.

Once Big Mac and Applejack started showing signs of illness, Applejack spoke to cousins in other places wondering if they would be able to let Applebloom stay with them a while. But just like everyone in Ponyville, they were experiencing the same issue. At one point, Fluttershy agreed to watch Applebloom until AJ and Big Mac started to feel better.

After hearing that Fluttershy graciously took in Applebloom, Rarity sent Sweetie Belle off to her the moment she started to cough. She didn't want Sweetie to see her like that. She didn't want her to get sick either, and in fact, she probably transported it from their parents house and into Rarity's. That made Rarity angry. Her last words to Sweetie were about how upset she was that she'd brought the illness to her.

Scootaloo went to Fluttershy herself. She couldn't find Rainbow Dash, so she settled for the next best pony. She was shocked to see her friends had been there themselves the past few days. Scootaloo only managed to stay a few hours, because during the night the crusaders awoke to a crash in another room. Upon investigation they saw Fluttershy hunched over a broken glass. There was blood on the floor.

They went to comfort her, but she wasn't herself any longer. When she turned to face them it already looked like she'd been ravened by the infection. She was so hungry. Why couldn't the jar just open? She was so... hungry. Before she could even stand back up, the crusaders grabbed their things and fled to the only place they knew they'd be safe. The clubhouse.

[tornado1992]

My dude, all your fanfics and ideas for baby Tails break my heart. I need more! How do you think Sonic would take care of a sick Tails? Do you think Tails would be so delirious with fever that he would not calm down until Sonic holds him? Who knows....

Glad to know I’m damaging your heart! That’s my whole goal, thank you for reading!

We don’t have nearly enough Tails’ sick fics out there, but BABY TAILS sick fics? We have a shortage, and that can’t be.

Now, as for how would sonic react to a sick baby tails, in case of a babyfied Tails there’s a variety of angst and comfort levels all around, but, if it were the unbreakable bond early days, both little Sonic and baby Tails? He’d be so stressed! These kids are all alone, don’t have a home, and clearly are not medicine professionals, so just try and imagine poor little Sonic panicking because suddenly his tiny fox kit started coughing and wheezing and he doesn’t know what to do, and poor baby Tails longing for Sonic to just hold him and tell him everything would be right?

Just imagine…

Sonic knew Tails was small

Tails was already so small, way too little for a four year old, his arms and legs way too short, his fluffy fur hiding how thin he was, and his tails big enough to blanket him almost completely, he was way too adorable, and so, so small.

But looking at him, right now, with the sweat staining his messy fur, his ears flatted down to his skull, and his little nose sneezing restlessly while he tried to curl into the littlest, tiniest ball of fur ever with little whines and whimpers leaving his throat almost every time he breathed, all while the speedster could just sit beside him cause nothing he did seemed to soothe him, Sonic felt like he was the small one.

Worried? an understatement. Scared? An inexactitude. Sonic was right down panicking.

The blue blur could handle 10 ton killing machines, ruthless natural disasters and evil crazy scientists threatening to end the world every day. But hiding from the rain in a cold, dark cave, sitting on the rocky ground beside a sweaty sick fox cub who pretty much looked like he war right up dying? Seeing and hearing how every cough and sneezed hurt him from the inside? He wasn’t sure he could handle this.

Tails was breathing heavily, almost like crying, but no tears left his eyes, not that he could see them anyway, he hadn’t opened his eyes since a few hours ago, sniffing and getting coughing fits every few minutes while his chest made a rumbling sound, but it wasn’t the kind of rumbly buzzing it made when the kit was all snoozed close to Sonic, when he wasn’t sick, when he wasn’t in pain. He wants that sound back.

The warmth that surrounded the little fox was nothing like the comfortable coziness Sonic felt whenever he snuggled close to him, when his little paws would reach for Sonic’s arm and try to hug him, when the little kid’s head below his chin felt like he was holding the most softest, warmest, freshly baked bread bun in the world. No, this wasn’t like that. This time, the heat that evolved him felt like hell was inside the kit’s skin trying to melt both himself and Sonic’s heart.

Sonic knew that being sick felt like freezing in your own cold sweat, your body fighting against itself trying to stay alive, even if it meant setting itself ablaze while feeling so he didn’t wanted to rip the thin blanket way from him, but the kid was not just warm, he was burning.

There was nothing his speed could do against the baby fox’s inmune system, nothing that his quills could break with a spindash, no way he could just take the kid and try outrun the threat.

He gave him all the water they had, tried to put some wet rags on his body and spent his very last dime on some cough syrup that didn’t seemed to be of much help. Tails was hurting, and Sonic couldn’t do anything about it.

He doesn’t know how didn’t he noticed him getting ill, sure, he was kinda quiet, but it have been raining for some days now and neither of them enjoyed stormy nights, both of them stayed silent when they were sad or upset, so he thought it was probably just that.

It wasn’t.

He did everything he knew was supposed to be done when a kid was sick, even when said kid’s little paws weakly waved him away when he tried to comfort him, even when he pouted and whined as he was forced to drink some water so he wouldn’t dehydrate, and even if he refused to open his mouth every time he needed to take his medicine; poor kid must be so scared and confused, not fully awake curling in himself not to show his face to Sonic, he must think someone was trying to hurt him. He must think he was alone again.

Sonic hadn’t left his side in hours, he wasn’t planning to, and yet, he was starting to feel lonely himself.

Tails thought he wasn’t a bad kid anymore.

He’d been told all his life than only bad kids would get sick like him. All the adults from his hometown yelling at him for even daring to get close to the village when he was coughing. All the other kids running from him when he sneezed. And his own body betraying him whenever he tried to stand while his head felt like exploding.

Apparently being “cursed” with twin tails wasn’t enough. He was bad enough of a kid to be sick almost everyday of his life before he met Sonic.

Tails knew only bad kids got sick. Because bad kids who stole from peoples garbage would get the most horrible tummy aches. Because bad kids who stayed in the rain when there was a storm would always fall to the ground when their chest made those nasty grumbly sounds that hurt every time they breathed. Because only bad kids would vomit nothing but liquid when they took water that wasn’t theirs.

He thought that now that he was with Sonic and didn’t need to do any of that, then maybe he was a good kid, maybe the universe forgave him, maybe the cosmos knew he always tried to help Sonic save the world, maybe reality wasn’t as cruel as to make him sick now that he was a good kid!, so he ignored the lingering pain in his chest whenever he talked for too long, he didn’t mention anything about how stuffed his nose felt and how nauseous the thought of food made him feel, neither about how as the hours passed he felt like his body was trying to cook itself alive, he was a good kid now, so it must’ve been a defense mechanism against the cold weather, nothing else.

But he did got sick, so he was still a bad kid.

It was fine, he had been through this before, he just needed to wait a little while, maybe less than two weeks, he was in better shape now than last time this happened, when he was alone and got sick he knew if was hungry enough he would just fall asleep for a few days and wake up with a horrible headache and a runny nose, but that just meant he would feel better in three or four more days, he could take it. But he wasn’t alone now, and even if his heart wanted nothing more than to fall asleep in his big brother’s arms until he got better…. He didn’t want Sonic to go through that, Sonic wasn’t a bad kid, he was the bestest friend in the world, the bestest greatest brother in the world, he didn’t deserved to get sick.

So even if he couldn’t open his eyes, even if all his body hurt like he was made of broken glass, he waved him away, surely Sonic didn’t know he could get sick from being around him, so he needed to protect Sonic from his sickness, he needed to protect Sonic from him. Even if he tried to pet his forehead or scratch behind his ears, and even if Tails wanted nothing more than to be hugged by him, he needed to protect Sonic, so he curled in himself, rolled on his side when his brother got too close, and even scratched his arms when he tried to pet him. Tears finally started rolling down his tired eyes when he heard his brother’s sudden hiss to the touch of his claws, no, anything but that, he didn’t wanted to hurt him, he didn’t wanted him to be ill, he didn’t wanted his brother to suffer because of some cursed freak, and now he was the one crying, he didn’t deserved to cry, he didn’t got time to cry, he could already feel the rest of his energy going away with the falling of his tears, his body already felt so heavy, sleep taking him down more and more with every heart beat, and as much as it hurt, he needed to get his brother away from him or he would try to comfort him again, he couldn’t risk Sonic getting sick just for petting him.

Bad kids didn’t deserved to be petted.

That was it. Trembling and whining were bad enough besides being sick, but tears? The blood coming out from the little claw scratches on his forearm didn’t sting nearly as much as the tears falling down the kid’s eyes did.

No, he couldn’t take it anymore, it didn’t matter if he scratched his face, growled at him or bit his hands, he couldn’t give him a solid home, five star medical care or even a proper bed, but he could give him this.

He was no doctor, and he knows that no amount of hugs could cure the little fox, but again, no doctor could really know how much better it made Tails feel whenever he was hugged, but Sonic knew, cause no matter when or how, or the limited time’s he’s done it, but he knows that for this tiny baby fox, hugs made him sleep, hugs made him purr, and hugs made him smile. When all the wet rags, medicine and blankets don’t do their job, hugs were the best comfort in the world.

And so the speedster finally placed himself on the ground, not just beside the fox, but completely surrounding him, holding him close to his chest while the kit mumbled silent whines and tried to move his paws against him, hoping the lullaby of his heartbeat could be enough to soothe the little cub, longing for the calm sound of his brother’s almost silent snoring, demanding to anything that’s out there to let him keep his brother alive, to let him end his pain and make him smile soon.

He didn’t really believed in anything up there, if they were real, they weren’t doing their job if the traumatized kid in his arms had anything to say. But Sonic believed in himself, and if the universe wanted to take his kid from him, they’d have to rip him from his dead cold hands, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

He held Tails even closer, whispering soft nothings to him, the kit’s wet nose pressing to his chest while he pet his ears and ran his fingers through his bangs, the fox’s whimpers and loud breathing made his heart ache, but he was still breathing, all cold, sweaty and scared, but breathing.

He wasn’t crying anymore, no longer fighting his big brother’s embrace, no longer trying to get away or to hide from him, and suddenly melting into his touch, relaxed enough that Sonic could feel the heartbeat on his chest against his own.

Then the most beautiful sound ever blessed his ears.

Tails didn’t know why Sonic didn’t leave him alone. He didn’t know why he seemed even more eager to get close to him after he hurt him to the point of bleeding. He didn’t know why he got to the ground and held him closer to his chest when the tears appeared, when he was the one who hurt him. And he didn’t know why he didn’t try to stop him. He needed to protect him, he was barely awake but he could try a last effort. He could push him away. Letting him know he was dangerous to be around one last time. He had to.

His brother’s heartbeat was always fast, almost sounding like a buzzing instead, what would be annoying to most people, but to Tails? Being held right now, his head cradled to the crook of his hero’s neck, listening from up close to the rapid beat, it was the most soothing sound he’s ever heard. As much as he needed to push Sonic away, and as much as his mind told him to protect him, his heart knew that being there, in his big brother’s arms, he didn’t wanted to move away from there, ever. It felt like the safest place in the world. It was the safest place in the world.

Just being there close enough to feel the hedgehog’s breathing over him, getting his forehead rubbed and his ears scratched while the speedster’s voice engraved itself in his heart, It made his headache almost bearable, his tears slowly stopped, his breathing no longer felt like chocking, and the warmth that he felt before was no longer burning, but rocking him to slumber.

Only good kids deserved to be held with love, he knows that, he was never held like this before. Even when every single person on his home island refused to even touch him if it wasn’t to hurt him, and even if he doesn’t remember ever being held like this by his parents, Sonic was here, holding him. His brother was holding him.

The pain and sorrow that embraced him finally being replaced by a comforting rumbling coming from his own chest.

Maybe he was a good kid after all.

[hana-no-seiiki]

WHY DON’T YOU GIVE ME A SMILE? (ACT 1)

YANDERE! BATFAM x JINX (ARCANE/LEAGUE)-ESQUE! READER

A lil’ platonic yanderes harley and joker in the mix too hehe

gender neutral reader.

cw/tw: mentally ill reader. reader has schizophrenia. reader has a massive fear of abandonment. harley and joker only feed to that. a r s o n among other crimes. gaslighting. manipulation. implied r*pe (by reader im so sorry you guys) reader is interested in all genders.

summary: meet jinx, gotham’s loudest, most explosive villain. no one knows who they really are, or if jinx is really even their name. but one thing’s for sure — they’ve got a lot of people chasing after them and their reasons aren’t so noble.

status: unedited

Considering Jinx was inspired by Harley Quinn. You’re probably her protégé. Her darling little child with Joker.

YOUR ORIGINS:

She saw you in the aftermath of the explosion. Cold and alone. Fire roaring behind you despite the heavens pouring its heart out, as if it was desperately trying to wash your tears and pain away.

She saw your bruises and a girl a little older than you walk away.

Her heart ached for you. No child deserved to be put in that kind of position, so she stepped in and made herself known.

“ I . . . I only wanted to help . . . Don’t leave me . . . Don’t . . .

You muttered.

Joker, who came here to marvel at the chaos such an explosion would present smiles maniacally.

You. You were the one that did this.

This beautiful wreckage and an equally beautiful child.

You were practically begging to be moulded into a weapon.

You charged at them both as they got closer, and while Harley was ready to defend her man - even hurt you if she has to - they did not expect what came next.

You just, held unto Joker’s right leg.

“ She’s not my sister . . . No . . . if she was she wouldn’t leave me . . . “

You were far too emotional for his liking. But nonetheless. A boon can always be found in a curse. That is, your desire for revenge.

He takes one look at Harley before picking your small body into his arms.

“ Who cares about fools like them, little one? They don’t matter in the grand scheme of things.”

His smile never stopped widening, yet even as a kid you never saw it as creepy or unnerving. In fact, it only reminded you of the smiles you used to draw on your nail bombs.

“All we ever truly have is ourselves. “

“So, smile. Don’t let your tears bring you down.”

Moulding you into the perfect weapon was easy.

Having a psychiatrist as a partner did help a lot in your development.

All it took was a few reminders of that fateful day before you began obediently following their rules and instructions.

You were a genius and since Harley kept protesting against it. You weren’t baptized into a vat of acid like the couple was.

Now, Harley and Joker are the worst possible parents you can ask for. So unlike Arcane’s Jinx. You are way way more unhinged. Not to mention, horny and materialistic.

As you grew up, you began to take interest in intentionally hurting people just for the sake of it. Stealing things was just a normal Tuesday for you. Being successful in your endeavors for once, and having bigger stacks of cash felt exhilarating.

The women and men were amazing. Your pseudo parents being who they were, didn’t really care if you were a sexual deviant or a pervert. When your hormones started kicking in they let you do whatever you want. Even giving you some of the people he held hostage as a toy to play with. If you have the capability of getting someone pregnant/or getting pregnant yourself they wouldn’t really care about the baby but you knew them well enough to know they’d use the kid as a way to manipulate you so you were careful in that aspect anyhow.

Harley noticed that when laying with women you’d often call out your sister’s name or call them sis by itself.

Sick. Disgusting. Is what a normal mother would think after finding out such a fact.

But to her you were just growing up so quickly. She had convinced Joker to go ahead and kill your sibling a long time ago behind your back and was growing anxious with the thought of you hating her and ruining this happy family dynamic (she had in her head)!

So she starts bringing you to more heists in disguise. Always keeping a close eye on you so that if any of those stupid heroes and vigilantes get any close, and you too far. She’d know as soon as possible.

It’s safe to say you grew up pretty spoiled, but even then you were hungry for more.

You see, even if they (Harley and Joker) weren’t careful with their “parenting” approach. They were careful with keeping you hidden from the Dark Knight himself.

Not that they were scared you’d get hurt. They could always nurse you back up again. Harley actually enjoyed the times you’d gotten in the cross fire. More time to take care of you in her arms.

They were mostly scared of the Dark Knight stealing you. Afraid that he’ll take you away and turn you into a goody-two-shoes they wouldn’t recognize anymore.

So as much as you were more involved it still felt like they were babying you.

It was your situation with you family all over again

But this time, this time you’ll show them…

You weren’t weak. And it’ll do them good to remember that.

YOUR RIVALRIES:

You made your debut at around the time Tim was still Robin.

You were his very own Joker. A menace deal with. A person that only cared for the thrill that came with hurting and killing masses.

You were terrible. Evil. A demon he had to exorcise from this world.

A demon he fell hopelessly in love with.

He didn’t know how his feelings came to be. It may have been the amount of stress and pressure he was facing coupled with having to deal with your ass every damn day whether directly or indirectly. But he found himself yearning to see you at times. Getting warm when he thought of you. He felt solace knowing that no matter how many times he’d attempt to tear you down completely, you’d still come back to face him once again.

He was so guilty of his feelings. How could he fall for someone as heinous as you? You were the worst of the worst. But somehow that made things so much more better.

You were a taboo. A vice he couldn’t have. The thought of entering such a forbidden relationship excited him just cause it was just that — forbidden , a temptation that should always stay like that.

He somehow manages to gain the self control to stay away from you for a while.

But then came Damian and he was set to replaced. Just like that.

“Wow there Timmy Boy. You look like shit.”

“J-Jinx?! Why are you here? How do you know my name?!” He asked as if he didn’t know every single detail about you himself.

“I have to know my little birdie well don’t I?”

“What kind of archnemesis would Jinx be to their little Robin if they didn’t do a lil’ research?” You spoke in a higher, cutesy voice as if you were your handgun that you’ve affectionally named Zapper.

“Right you are Zapper! I would be a terrible rival. That wouldn’t do for a hero as great as Timmy!”

He thought that all his work was all for naught. All the hours he spent trying to prove himself was gone so fast.

But you reminded him of his place in this world. Of his position as a hero. Your rival.

The warmth in your eyes when you looked at him sealed the deal. There was no coming from this. He was yours as you were his.

“Only I can hurt you like this, toots. Don’t forget that.”

Little did you know that Tim took those words to heart and never let anyone else hurt him (and stay alive).

“Big Bat can replace you but you’ll always be the Robin in my heart !” You winked at him, signaling with one of your manicured fingers for him to smile. Which ended up almost scratching your cheeks.

Tim was confused (incredibly flustered, not to mention har—), why were you so kind to him all of a sudden. He knew you were the playful type but you were usually ruthless when it came to battle. You weren’t one to play with food for too long. For you to excuse him, much less help him in such a state.

Who were you and what did you do to his Jinx?

“OW hEy! I swear if you put that there Pow-Pow— I’ll—“ Tim heard you screeching out of view.

Scratch his doubts. Yep, you were definitely still his Jinx.

The Dark Knight knew who you were from the beginning.

He had his suspicions even before you came into the scene. With your knack to tag everything with neon spray-paints.

At first he thought you were a simple thug that Joker and Harley picked up. But the way they were sheltering you made it seem otherwise.

The regret he felt knowing that you were basically a child in their filthy hands and was now far too gone to save was immense.

If only he knew. You wouldn’t be in this situation.

While he was “dead” he found himself looking into you more. About the death of your biological parents and the way your sister abandoned you to Harley and Joker.

He felt pity for your childhood and a sense of kinship. Sure the incident may have been your fault but you were a child. How could you have known your actions would have such terrifying consequences.

If only you knew him when you were younger.

If only.

He was sure you’d be one of the greatest vigilantes alive.

“I knew you were alive.”

You looked down at Batman, staring while both of you were being doused by the rain. Thunder accompanying the sound of conversation.

He takes a defensive stance.

“I’m not going to fight ya, that’s Joker’s thing. And I know he’ll grill my ass if I stole his archnemesis.”

“What a loser!”

“Hey! He took us in. We should be more grateful!”

Bruce looked at you as you talked with a new, rather large, shark shaped gun. He had memorized the names of all your “companions” by now and was oddly excited and slightly unnerved by the new one.

“So, why’d you leave? Was it . . . was it on purpose?”

“No.”

“Then come back.”

He almost dropped all his plans with the way you told him that.

“Tim needs you . . . and your other sons too or whatever.”

“Come with me.”

“You crazy, old bat? Why would I—“

“I know what it feels like to have no family. Harley doesn’t love you. Joker doesn’t love anyone.”

“Do you?”

“I do.”

“Well tough luck man. I don’t give a shit about love.”

You dropped down to his level. A thud resounds, loud enough to cut through the rainfall and thunder.

“Cause love never gave a shit about me.”

“We’ll have to refuse. Just get back to your sons, hero!”

“I’m sorry, perhaps I didn’t make it clear enough—

— I don’t think you have a choice in this matter, [Y/N].”

Act 2 with Jason, Dick and Damian coming soon! If you’d like to be tagged just reply to this post ^^

You like my writing? Follow my blog and maybe take a look at the fic linked below!

WHAT’S UP DANGER : Yandere Batfam x Miles Morales! Reader

[jaeedraszaerysz]

JON SNOW ☆ DATING HCS

SFW 💕💕

It would probably take him a while to trust you if you hadn't known him very long.

If you grew up with or close to the Starks he tried to befriend you before Robb did

He would always be scared that he would steal your heart away

You would spend hours mocking the men and women of the courts

When Robert Baratheon came to visit you both sat outside taking the piss out of all the Lords and ladies and any twat who dared speak low of either of you.

Tyrion Lannister defos assumed u were a couple and when you told him otherwise, he just shook his head.

Catelyn would probably despise you for being so close to him.

Ned would love you though, thanking the gods silently that the boy had someone by his side.

He would probably have kissed you before he left for the nights watch and spent his nights wondering whether leaving you was worth it all.

When you eventually found your way back to him it was rather chaotic.

You were probably interrogated by tormund on arrival

Atleast until Jon saw you, never forgetting your face.

You probably punched him square in the face and then proceeded to have a huge, westeros equivalent of Oscar worthy, makeput session infront of everyone.

Ghost, when not growling at random twats, would act like a second protector when Jon wasn't by your side.

Arya either loves you or hates you

Sansa is, just like her father was, happy Jon has someone.

Bran doesn't care. He's too busy wheeling around doing seven eyes Sparrow shit or whatever he called it.

You and Davos defos spend ages tryna talk some sense into him.

He always seems to be holding you in some way

Whether it be your arm, hand, waist. He would probably play with your hands or you hair often.

Is always bloody staring

Like never stops

His eyes are for you and only you

Takes. You. Everywhere.

Like no debates. He goes, you follow. Or vice versa.

He took you with him to meet with ramsay and if he made any comment whatsoever it was straight up a routine by now.

Death stare, holds onto you twelve times tighter, kills the offender within 24 hours.

Loves it when you fall asleep on him because he's happy you feel safe with him.

Head kisses.

Need I say more?

Everywhere anytime.

Head. Fucking. Kisses.

Walking past. Head kiss.

Sat next to him at dinner. Head kiss.

In an extremely serious situation requiring your full attention. Head kiss.

Dying. Head kiss.

It's like his fucking bread and butter.

When you first met daenerys it was bad vibes.

Like very bad.

No clue why she just doesn't sit right with you.

Either grows to love you or ends up hating you with a passion.

No in-between.

He dreams of having a normal life.

He would want three kids, two boys and girl so they could protect their sister.

Maybe another direwolf or four. One for each and one for you.

Can't sleep when you aren't next to him.

Teaches you to sword fight extremely early on in your relationship.

If you were ill or pregnant he would never leave your side.

Never ever ever never.

He's convinced that you could have a hundred children and you would still be the person he loves most in the world.

Would do anything for you.

Minors DNI below this line.

NSFW ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 (implied female reader)

Worships you like no one else

Touching you always.

Passes it off for his hand on your back but in reality he's secretly caressing your ass, or will have his arms under your cloak, passing it off as a hug, and will gently squeeze your boobs.

Neck kisses.

His favourite thing in the world.

Loves to leave marks on you wherever he can.

Has definitely kissed every inch of your body

Gives no fucks about scars or hair or anything of the sort.

Boobs.

Lives laughs loves your boobs.

Will lay with his face buried in them at any time.

Minor inconvenience? Someone was being a twat? He's tired?

Boob pillow.

Will eat you out for hours.

Insatiable.

You have any problems at all? Sit on his face.

If he's had a bad day he will legit just stuff his face between your thighs.

His fave place.

Says that if you suffocated him it would be an amazing way to go.

Probably prefers giving but he will never say no to receiving.

His dick is probs like 6-7 inches.

Takes tormunds advice very seriously.

Loves to see how many fingers you can take before he stuffs you.

Will go for as many rounds as you need.

Always a gentleman, making sure your comfortable and that your satisfied.

Cockwarming he loves.

Cuddles afterwards.

He will slide out of you and pull you onto on him, pulling the blankets up and wrapping his body around yours.

Calls you love but with his gorgeous deep voice.

Has a sexy asf morning voice.

He's so whipped for you he can't function somedays.

[ivestas]

Hello. I saw your post and would you be up for doing a bit on a reader who cares little about themselves but cares deeply for the team?

love deterrence

Summary: You care about the 141 more than yourself to a worrisome degree. 

Tags: platonic!141 x soldier!fem!reader, mentally ill reader (implied), headcanon format, reader implied to be young, unedited

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: ANON... THE MOMENT I SAW THIS I DROPPED EVERYTHING. the requests I get r always top tier, BUT THIS IS S +. also my bad for this being price/soap/ghost-centric, theyre the characters im most confident in writing---and, also also, SEND REQUESTS. you guys are so slay w reqs its actually insane

You were a soldier—a good one at that. 

Thorough in your assignments, fearless on the field, and reliable. Truly, it’s something any enlister would seek out. 

That was Price’s initial thoughts—everyone else’s, really. You liked to get shit done and you were determined to always, always see through a mission’s completion. 

It was a trait that, at first, wasn’t noticeable, but it intensified the longer you stayed with the 141. 

Many things increased the longer you were with them: you went from formal to friendly, quiet to outspoken, frigid to warm... you grew comfortable. They each took notice in their own way—with Soap being the one to constantly reciprocate and encourage in his own way; despite his loud character, he was subtle in pushing you out of your bubble.

Even Ghost encouraged you... in his own way. 

“You look like you wanna say something, spit it out, kid.” 

It was hard not to warm up to them, and vice versa; the team was as tightly knit as they come, and you could confidently say that you’d trust your life in their hands...

...but, you’d much rather they worry about you last.

And that was when Ghost was the first to notice your recklessness on the field when it came to them; the moment you heard one of them was in danger, you’d be quick to finish the area in such a careless manner and rush to them—and many, many times he’d berate you about it. 

“Kid, when I tell you to stay put, you stay put.”

“But—“

“No fuckin’ ‘buts’, you shut up and listen, understand?!” 

“...yes sir.” 

But you always disobeyed. At one point, Ghost demanded Price to put you on temporary leave because of how worrisome it was getting—you’d listen to every single order and follow through in quick succession, but the moment it came to your safety, you just..?

And that’s when it clicked to Ghost: you didn’t care. It was their lives over yours, and something about that just pissed him off. 

(Maybe it was because he understood the feeling, and he hated knowing that you felt it too. You were young, you shouldn’t feel that way—not now, not ever.)

Price would catch on later around the same time Soap did—although the two certainly weren’t dumb, it’s just the mere fact that they didn’t understand the way Ghost did—they’ve had their mental pitfalls, but not the abject depression that pushes one to feel so little about themselves. 

They’d find out much later—you’ve become sneakier in protecting them, something that Ghost still catches from time to time but can’t butt in since you were so damn clever with it—and it was when an enemy tossed a bomb in your and Soap’s direction that your nature dawned on him. 

You were quick to toss the bomb back, and not only did you do that, but you shielded him from the blast by throwing yourself onto him despite the fact you were smaller than he. 

Luckily, the blast didn’t harm you, only leaving you with a few scrapes and ringing ears. 

But, the moment he got back up on his feet, you were fretting.

“You okay, Soap? You’re not hurt, are you—?!” 

“Lass, worry about yourself, I’m fine!” 

“Are you sure?” 

It was like talking to a brick wall: terribly frustrating.

Price, having been a few feet away and had shielded from the blast, saw the spectacle and almost laughed. 

It was ridiculous to him—you threw yourself, but you’re worrying about the muscle-bound soldier? 

He didn’t like soldiers who tried to play hero—especially soldiers who were hardly grown. Especially soldiers who seemed to lack care for themselves.

So, Price would start sneaking in sentiments of care: complimenting you outside the field, (”You made that, sergeant? Great job, it looks wonderful.”) trying to hear you communicate your own interests, things about you. 

Soap already does that, and Ghost soon follows too, though slowly. He wasn’t good at praising—his compliments were always so awkward, no better than his fucked up jokes that he cracked at the worst times. 

Price always made sure to give you the best cots, Ghost would give you a portion of his food because...

“I’m watching my weight.”

“What?” 

“You heard me, sergeant. I’m watching my weight.” 

“...you’re literally a soldier—“

“Just eat the food kid, don’t make me repeat myself.” 

Soap was the only direct one—the other two didn’t want to make it uncomfortable for you, but Soap was, well... Soap. 

“Look, kid, lass, you need to start lookin’ out for yerself.” 

“I am already, don’t worry—“

“You stood in front of Price when you thought there was an enemy sniper.” 

“He’s the captain! I gotta protect him!” 

“You could’ve just told him—listen, I don’t like using threats, that’s the L.T’s thing, not mine, but if you continue to treat your arse like a meatshield, I’m gonna make sure you’re put on leave again, okay?” 

It becomes a struggle after that: you felt overwhelming guilt for feeling guilt, for being ‘selfish’, or feeling guilty for taking risky actions in order to protect them because you know they’ll feel bad. 

It’s a perpetual struggle that you didn’t know what to do about, and it’s at the worst time you broke down. 

You and Ghost were cleaning up the mess hall since Soap won a bet against him, and when you picked up an extra plate more than Ghost, you began overthinking.

Was this gonna piss off Ghost? Were you going to make him feel bad? Were you doing this for yourself or for him? Why did you do that—should you give him the plate? What should you do? What’s the right thing?

As much as the guys tried to ease your mind, I think they did the opposite: and, at that moment, you couldn’t stop the tears.

That made you even guiltier, especially when Ghost noticed. 

But, all he said was “talk.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft, and with that allowance, you spoke. 

It was incoherent: a babbling mess of “sorrys” and admissions of guilt for shit he didn’t even know one could feel guilty for—you shook, moments would jump where you would collect yourself for a few seconds before bursting once more. 

Taking the dishes from your hands, he set them back on the table and engulfed you in an awkward but strong hug. He didn’t trust himself to say anything right, but he hoped—prayed—that you knew the sentiments. 

And you did—you reciprocated immediately, burying your face into his bulletproof vest; heaving, shaking, breaking. 

He was then at a crossroads: you were unstable. Guilt like that—this faux selflessness that was really something more tragic—it only leads to one thing, a thing he couldn’t bring himself to name. 

So, the same night when he was sure you were asleep, he went straight to Price. 

“Sir.” 

“Yes, Ghost?” 

“The kid—she can’t stay. She needs to see a professional.” 

Price sighed. “You don’t think I’m tryin’? Been trying to reach a psychologist—therapist—whomever. Laswell’s said she’s workin’ on it, so we’ll see.”

“But she can’t stay, this type of job, it’s not good for her mind.” 

“That’s up to her. You can’t just kick someone out—it’s ain’t that simple.” 

Ghost opened his mouth, ready to spit back, but Price cut in, stern. “It’s up to her. I’ll make sure she sees a professional at least bi-weekly, but you can’t force a leave on her.” 

Ghost settled with that, though not completely satisfied. 

When you eventually do see a professional, you get a little better—you recognize the patterns, the triggers, the reasons. It’s easier to dissemble the mess that your mind is and just understand. 

Although you’re a little more careful now, more thoughtful about your own body, there’s always a level of protection you place on them that they know is irremovable: it’s care. 

And they reflect that care right back at you, both in and out of the field. 

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

[maple-the-awesome]

He's Becomes a Dad || Part 2/2

Part 1

Pairing: Twilight, Warrior, Sky, Wild x Reader

Overview: Congratulations, you're new parents 🎉 Some of the Links are prepared. Others...might need a moment to gather themselves. But rest assured! At the end of the day, they're all going to get a handle on this whole dad thing. Warning: Mentions of miscarriages for Sky's section. Nothing to detailed, but it's there so beware 🙅‍♀️

Zelda Masterlist 🤎Fandom Masterlist

It's never been a surprise to you that Twilight would want kids of his own. He never even had to say it aloud, you could just read that look in his eyes whenever playing with the village children. It was a wordless yet ever so contagious request: I want this. And how were you to deny him? Just look at him!

Simply put, children were a top priority of yours almost as soon as you married. It didn't take long for you to become pregnant either (not with Twilight's fierce passion and your shared disinterest towards 'waiting'). Regardless, there were still many tears shed when you found out - all happy, of course, as your husband spun you around in his arms while you both laughed giddily in between quick kisses.

Let's get this straight: Twilight is prepared-prepared. Ordon is that type of close-knit community where everyone helps raise each other's kids, so despite this being his first rodeo as a new dad himself, he has plenty of experience taking care of youngsters. As a ranch-hand, he's also perfectly accustomed to the whole birthing process, having hand-delivered more baby goats than he can count, so don’t worry, nothing about the ‘less glamorous’ sides of pregnancy scare him. 

With that being said, Twilight doesn't stress too much aside from the normal concerns about your health, after all he recognizes that not every pregnancy is the same for every woman, but that's exactly why he makes it his personal mission to ensure your comfort. 

Feeling particularly ill? He'll make you all the tasty pumpkin soup you could ask for which, believe it or not, works wonders for an upset stomach. Just having a bad day? He'll happily let you cuddle with Wolfie to help you relax. Restless? He'll take you on a horse ride no matter the hour and if you're too far along in your pregnancy to climb onto Epona, a simple walk to Ordon's spring will do since that's the perfect spot to soak your sore body. Twilight is no above carrying you there himself if you ask.

Trust that your every worry is always smoothed; Twilight is there to reassure you no matter how 'little' the problem. Have concerns he can't speak on as a man? He'll happily go ask one of the other village women for you if you're too embarrassed to do so yourself, in fact this guy's already been talking Rusl and Uli's ears off for advice since day one. He doesn't want to leave a single thing to chance regardless of how confident he already feels which is probably why there's a stack of parenting books on his nightstand. Did he clear the shelves in Castle Town? Probably.

You're pretty sure that Twilight already had a 'go-bag' put together before the end of your first trimester, although he’d add to it like a paranoid squirrel up until your due-date. Curious, you had gone through it one day just to get a hint of how overboard he might've gone. Diapers, snacks, blankets, comfortable clothes for you, more parenting books...He does realize you're doing a home birth, right? Most of this stuff he could just grab from the cabinet if needed, but it's sweet that he's trying to be organized.

It isn’t really news to anyone that Hyrule’s heroes tend to land on the quieter side and usually Twilight isn’t much different…There’s a key word in there because you’re quite certain he hasn’t actually shut up since the second you told him you’re pregnant. He can hardly keep his excitement to himself! Oh, but it’s adorable, especially on those nights when he’ll fall asleep mumbling about his joy all while using your swollen stomach as a pillow. It makes your heart swell every time.

When you eventually go into labor, Twilight doesn’t show much outward panic if he has any at all, however he does feel incredibly terrible to watch you go through it without any relief. He feels absolutely useless while unable to take away your suffering the way a good husband should, so to make up for it, he does his utmost best to be your rock during those long hours, talking you through each painful contraction and doing everything in his power to distract you. Back rubs, walks around the house, whispers of sweet nothings…He’s by your side well into the night, keeping it up until it finally comes time to start pushing.

He definitely was not going to say it while you were going through the motions because he’d like to keep his head, but human and goat births are pretty much the same thing minus the actual cursing. He’s in his element then, knowing exactly what to do to ensure a safe delivery for mama and baby. His movements are almost automatic, trained by years of practice as he cleans the little one off before taking the time to admire them fully.

Are you shocked that Twilight is teary eyed? Not at all. Are you upset that he almost forgets about you entirely for a second because he’s so entranced by the baby? Also no, since you need a moment to catch your breath anyway. Don’t worry, though, he does eventually pass you your son reluctantly before hovering at your side with possibly the widest grin you’ve ever seen on the man since your wedding day. 

The rest of the night is calm from there on, filled with quiet whispers and cooing as you both take turns partaking in skin-to-skin contact with your baby. Will you be doing this again soon? You’re probably going to need a decent break to recover, but just know that your husband is absolutely ready whenever you are. In the meantime, expect to be showered in endless love and affection because you deserve it for the priceless gift you’ve given him.

Your relationship with Warrior has always been ‘slow moving’ if compared to most other couples’. For starters, while he may have a formidable reputation for being a supposed lady's man, all that 'skill' of his would go flying out the window whenever faced with your presence, so it took some time (and maybe a near-death experience) for any confessions to be made. In his defense, you're a very beautiful and strong woman who happened to be one of his superiors during most of the war, so please excuse him for usually being awed into silence whenever you showed even an ounce of interest in ‘lil ol’ him. His brain would literally become a windows error.

Even after Warrior did finally find the courage to ask you out, your respected jobs and heavy workloads have often forced your relationship to be put on the back-burner. Marry you? Hylia knows he’s been DYING to! You’re already wearing the ring and everything, but it's not like you're going anywhere anytime soon and he'd rather wait a few extra years to enjoy the perfect moment rather than rush the whole ‘happiest-day-of-our-lives’ thing during a bad time.

Luckily for him, you've never needed a formal certificate to know you own his heart. He proves it to you in other ways every day from cheesy love letters to overly romantic dates during your rare off time, and while you normally adore being the sole subject of his affection, that's exactly how you ended up in this very situation.

You're both adults and as such you won't pretend to be innocent: This wasn't planned in the slightest. Your jobs can be quite chaotic, as previously addressed, so you just wanted to help your husband-to-be relax and destress a bit - nothing new for either of you in itself, although that particular evening would end up weighing heavily on your mind a few weeks later.

To be honest, when you first entered Warrior's office and instructed him to sit down with a stern voice that could rival Commander Impa's, he thought you must've finally grown tired of being engaged for several years, having come to him then to demand that he marry you sooner. Agreement was right on the tip of his tongue when you delivered the bombshell that you were pregnant instead.

Your tone was serious and expression calm, but Warrior knows you well enough to spot the hidden worry in your eyes. It’s justified, of course. Had either of you even discussed having kids before? He doesn’t think so. It’s not like having a baby is a bad thing, though. The idea of creating a small family with you is a pleasant one, it’s just…happening a lot sooner than preferred. You both would’ve liked more time to plan and prepare…but oh well. What’s done is done. 

The real concern is will your jobs allow you both time off to take care of a baby? It's not like a war is currently going on, so Hyrule won't suffer too much from having two of its best captains sidelined, however what happens if that doesn't remain the case? What if war breaks out tomorrow or the day after? Warrior can’t let his pregnant fiancée fight in battles! What kind of husband and father would that make him?! But at the same time, is he just supposed to ask that you sacrifice your career in order to spare his? THAT’S NO BETTER!

...All things considered, you'd say Warrior handles the news far better than some might've. Yes, he begins to ‘slightly’ overthink things, although that's exactly why you had him sit down first. Calmly, you take his hand and tell him how things will be (your own way of offering comfort not only to him, but yourself as well). The bottom line is that if you could successfully fight Ganondorf’s army together, you can raise a child together, too. Really, how much harder can it be? You already have some minor experience being unofficial parents to little Time and Wind during the war. Just don't give your own children any magic masks or wind controlling devices and you should be golden.

Thankfully, many of Warrior’s initial fears are proven to be irrational during the earliest stages of your pregnancy. Everyone else was positively thrilled to hear the news and even Impa gave her congratulations, explaining to your fiancé’s relief that she’ll simply assign you more deskwork until it’s fit for you to return back to your normal duties. All he has to worry about in the meantime is making sure you actually take it easy; only a slightly difficult task considering your headstrong nature and insistence on not being ‘coddled’, but hey, if anyone can handle it, it’s the guy who’s hellbent on marrying your stubborn butt one day.

Warrior will admit that there were still some nights when he would nearly pull his hair out while doubting if he’s actually ready to be a dad, however the moment you officially being showing is the same moment he forgets all about any possible regrets and replaces them entirely with daydreams filled with not only his lovely wife, but also a little one who will hopefully think the absolute world of him. He already knows he’ll think of it of them.

Although you may feel a bit nervous towards the prospect of suddenly being parents, that doesn’t change the fact that you wouldn’t choose anyone else to go through this journey with. One look to your side and you’re certain of it. The way Warrior holds his son for the first time, newborn wrapped comfortably in his scarf and dad, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion after hours of labor yet the proud smile evident on his face nevertheless…You were right before: so long as you do it together, you’ll excel in this whole ‘parenting-thing’.

You had married young - almost as soon as you were able after graduating from the Knight Academy. To everyone else on Skyloft, you have always been the picture image of an ideal couple; the hero and his beloved princess who somehow manage to be completely and utterly smitten with each other even years later. To call Sky your husband is a blessing in itself and you consider yourself lucky every single day. There’s only ever been one problem with your relationship - one single complaint you can think of where neither of you are truly responsible: your lack of children.

When you first married, there was lots of talk, after all everyone was simply dying to know when the first generation on the Surface would be born. Your parents were eager for grandchildren and Zelda, your best friend, had way too much fun teasing you over the matter by expressing her 'surprise' that Sky had yet to give you a baby despite how 'passionate' he’s always been towards you (she would make sure to use those exact words, too). 

Initially, you never minded anyone’s curiosity. It’s only natural to expect children from a newly wed couple. It's when that same couple reaches their third then sixth year of marriage without any trace of tiny feet or squealing laughter that those curious and well-meant questions grow quiet with unbearable pity, your shared excitement becoming shuttered sorrow.

At the start there was nothing to worry about. You were both young and not putting that much effort into it, so certain it wouldn't take long for your family to grow. Then the years began to pass and you would try everything the doctor recommended, but every test would still leave you as disappointed as the last. The absolutely worst form of despair came those few times you'd actually get your hopes up only to have them cruelly dashed a few months in.

What were you doing wrong? Sky would always hush your anxieties and do his utmost best to reassure you, however you knew by his own tears that your infertility hurt him just as much, especially when on those quieter nights, you'd suggest that perhaps you simply weren't meant to be parents - that the gods were just trying to tell you both something you were too stubborn to accept.

It's for that reason that you had such mixed emotions once finally able to fall pregnant again. You were optimistic deep down, however after six years of attempts and losses, you were wary to embrace too much joy right away which was shown in the way Sky held onto you for what felt like hours after you told him or how he slept each night with a hand on your stomach even in those early days, internally praying to the goddesses this would be the one.

A month passed...Then two...And three, and four…For once, you didn't feel sick aside from what was considered normal. Maybe a bit of high blood pressure the doctor kept a close eye on, but other than that he’d always tell Sky and you the same thing: they're healthy.

Even then, you’d say you remained extra cautious, not daring to eat nor do anything the doctor so much as hesitated against, however Sky was by far the worst when it came to worrying. As your husband, he considers your physical and mental well-being his personal responsibility, but as the father of your child? His work has doubled!

All chores were to be his alone so that you could rest. Any bout of sickness was closely monitored and tended to. His hand would remain on your stomach from beginning to end, although overtime it would be done less out of fear and more for the sake of bounding, often accompanied by his voice or the melody of his harp which he would happily play for you both whenever you were having a particularly difficult time falling asleep at night.

Now, you didn't dare tell anyone about your pregnancy during the first half, not wanting to deliver anymore bad news should it come, however once the remilit was out of the bag, you became the center of attention much to Sky's conflicted feelings. On one hand, you deserved it for all of your hard work growing a baby, but on the other, that overprotective dad-side of him couldn't help fretting over the vast number of harmful germs your guests could possibly be passing onto you and your unborn child. Did he make everyone wash their hands for ten minutes before visiting? Yes, yes he did.

Beyond being protective, Sky was also very emotional throughout the entire pregnancy maybe even more than you sometimes. He got teary-eyed after every doctor's appointment that confirmed the baby's development, while picking out names together, and even when you were yelling at him for something stupid because as far as he was concerned, you still looked so beautiful standing there with crossed arms and a round belly carrying his child. Oh, but none of that compared in the slightest to the tears that were shed when he actually held his daughter for the first time; that amount of waterworks could put the flood of Faron to shame!

Six years of waiting made you both lose hope. You assumed you’d never be able to have children of your own and even began to look towards other options such as adoption or simply living your lives childless forever…but the day your daughter was born was the day all your anxieties and doubts were finally put to rest. Now, as you cry happily with your husband, you can’t think of a single complaint towards your relationship; it’s officially as perfect as the precious little bundle in your arms.

Wild and you were still practically newlyweds when you gave him the 'thrilling' news. You were so happy to do so, too, barely able to bite back your excitement while watching your husband lift a small pair of baby pajamas out of a gift box. You were absolutely glowing as you eagerly awaited his reaction and all he could do was simply stare into space as his whole world came crashing down on top of him. Did he look horrified on the outside? He must've, because he swears he could’ve pinpointed the exact moment that shine in your eyes died, a frown etching its way onto your lips. What else was he supposed to do aside from fake a smile and embrace you, keeping you close to his chest so that your delight wouldn't be spoiled by his internal nervous breakdown?

Wild has zero right to be shocked. You had both been intimate (as tends to happen when you're married) not to mention you had made it perfectly clear from the start of your relationship that you would want a family one day. Judging on your eagerness towards the topic, it was never up for debate either; no kids would be a dealbreaker for you, so Wild had no choice but to quietly agree, too afraid to dare utter the truth or voice any hesitation because Hylia forbid you get the wrong idea and leave him. 

He thought it would be harmless. Some couples remain married for years before any children follow and you weren't in any big hurry, so he figured he'd have plenty of time to get his act together until the day of your dreams arrived; he didn't think it would happen during your first year of marriage! ...Now he's really dug himself into a hole it's too late to try escaping from…

He’s almost said something - a few times actually. He knows it’s only fair and that as your husband, he owes you proper communication, but each time he opens his mouth, his mind curses him with the image of your sadness. What if you think he doesn’t want this at all? What if you think he hates the baby and hates you for being pregnant? What if you concluded he must want to leave you so you decide to beat him to the punch?! 

…Okay, so Wild knows you aren’t going to just walk away. You’ve always been good at listening to his inner demons and acting as his strongest pillar of support, but that doesn’t change his fear that you might be hurt by whatever he has to say and he will not allow himself to ruin your own excitement. 

In the years that he’s known you, he can’t say he’s ever seen you quite as happy as when you found out about your baby. He knows he should match that joy, too. Most men do. Hell, Twilight practically sent a five-page essay bragging about his wife's first pregnancy. Truth be told, Wild actually does feel happy. On his better days, he feels that flicker of pride and a hint of eagerness because a family with you honestly sounds wonderful. The problem is, in his mind, it isn't a question as to what he wants, but rather what he deserves. 

So much has gone wrong in his past. It doesn’t matter how much you or anyone else assures him otherwise, it’s hard to shake the feeling that he failed Hyrule. He still suffers from so many nightmares and waves of guilt that he can’t properly put into words. You’re still having to shake him out of dazes and smooth his following sobs…How is he going to be a good dad and be there for his child when he can barely stand upon his own two feet like this?

Initially, Wild thought these feelings would go away; that’s why he never spoke them to you. He wanted so desperately to believe they wouldn’t linger, especially after you both got married. He lives in a peaceful world, has a nice home in a quiet village, a beautiful wife who adores him…He should’ve been able to move on from the Calamity already, so why hasn’t he? On his worst nights, it makes him wonder if he’ll ever be okay or if he’s just screwed you and the baby over by tying you both down to him.

These two sides of him - the hopeful and the pitiful - continue to battle for dominance inside Wild’s head throughout each step. Sometimes he’s genuinely smiling with you as you pick out baby names. Other times he’s sitting outside alone trying his damn hardest to remember any piece of his past that might make him feel at least a little better about his luck towards being a dad, preferably a time when he was actually good with kids or even had a family before. 

Wild’s internal dilemma comes to a head one fateful night when he’s awoken to the baby’s distressing cries. He had honestly already been awake after a mild case of anxiety, but you on the other hand are tired, worn from nine long months of pregnancy and the early days of active motherhood. The last thing he wants is for you to lose out on precious rest (a rare gift these days), so leaping out of bed, he’s quick to reach the baby’s crib.

Unfortunately, Wild’s natural instincts seem to basically stop right there at the crib’s side. Hands hovering above, he tries his best to calm his daughter through whispered assurances and attempts at cooing the same way he’s seen you do. When that doesn’t work, he awkwardly picks her up, cuddling her close to his chest while quietly pleading at this point. Is she hungry? Does she need a diaper change? Did she have a nightmare? Whatever it is, if you wake up, you’ll take over and he’ll be left to stand aside feeling like he can’t even do the basic task of comforting his own child and -

- To his astonishment, his efforts actually work. It really must’ve been as simple as a nightmare because slowly, the baby falls silent, seemingly forgetting all about her troubles as she finds solace gazing up at her daddy with the widest blue eyes and a stuck-out tongue that can’t seem to keep itself in her mouth. It looks rather goofy, so Wild can’t help but chuckle, although the sound is soft as his heart melts under the attention she holds towards him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it’s almost like she’s looking at her entire world…

Maybe some would say this moment isn’t necessarily anything special, but for Wild, it’s everything. As if suddenly a pro, he’s able to rock the little beauty gently back to sleep, his pleas turning into words of admiration as he tucks her into bed. There, he continues to keep watch over her until he feels tired himself, all the while thinking: he might be broken from years of trauma, and he might not be the best husband or parent out there because of it, but that's not going to stop him from doing everything in power to be there for his princesses.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

I'll crawl home to you

Next chapter

a/n okay this sat in my notes for so long. I wanted to delete first, then I thought hmm... let's indulge, right? Also, please be gentle, I've never written for Javi.

summary: having a fight with someone you care about right before the mission might be the worst idea ever especially when you don't know if you'll make it out alive.

warnings: fighting, guns, past trauma, injuries, blood, mentions of death...I think that's all.

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"Is Carillo in?", both males lifted their heads from their never-ending piles of documents right as you approached. Each step was laced with nothing but confidence. Only fools would stand in your way. You were nothing like the women Javi was used to. He had never seen you striding across the office in a skirt or a skimpy shirt that most secretarial women preferred here. But then you weren't a secretory ether.

"Yeah, he should be", Steve said, beating Javi to an answer and eyeing the files in your hand. Neatly put as always, followed by the colorful tabs that no one else used, and even if Javi had made fun of them in the past, it was something that constantly reminded him of you. "What's that?", Steve tried to reach for the reports, but you only slapped his hand away playfully. As if he was nothing but a curious kid, shoving his nose into something that wasn't for him. "You'll see. Meeting in five, watch", you stated before walking through Carillo's door, closing it with daring eyes and a wink.

Carillo was the one to command emergency meetings, so you calling the shots looked nothing but childish to an unknowing ear, but then, not even two minutes later, Carillo emerged from the door, "Meeting in five", his voice boomed through the office, and with the corner of his eyes, Javi could see you leaning against the table smiling to yourself.

You fascinated him. There was no other way to go around it. Back when you just joined the team, Javi did doubt you. Toxic masculinity and all that shit got him humbled real quickly alongside all the other sorry fucks who didn't know how to keep their mouths shut. There were not many females among the leading troops, but you were unbeatable. Many men were pissed beyond any mark when Carillo made you his second in command. Even Javi was pissed. Because most of the fuckers here had been here for years, some ten and counting, and it took you less than two to climb almost to the top. But then, no one was better fitted for that role, and with time passing, one thing got even clearer. The thing that pissed Pena off the most was that your position got you and Carillo way too close for Javi's liking. Not that you were his. Not that there was an us.

But you were like an illness clinging to him. Javi couldn't think clearly. Most of his brain was occupied with you. He fucked so many whores when he felt his heart starting to want to lean just to you. He had fucked them all by that time, he was sure that he liked you, but that only made him feel worse. Common Bogota whore. That's what he was. Equally as much, he sold himself both for information and because he needed someone to cling to him, even if it was for the money.

"Why an orphanage?", Steve was leaning against the table, looking down at the papers you had forbidden him to touch five minutes ago. "Would you look there?", you sassed back, making Steve shrug his shoulders in agreement as he continued to flip through all the other documents. "We don't need a full-blown mission. It would just be a check. If we find something to hold onto, we'll send more men", you continued, glancing to Carillo, needing his nods as validation now that the room was dead silent.

"Pena", Carillo called out, getting the agent's eyes to shoot up at him, "You haven't said anything". And it was true he hadn't. One thing that Javi loved was disagreeing. You two were the best at that. But he was never this silent. Regardless of whether he liked the idea or not, he would still share his thoughts, but now you got absolutely nothing.

"Send an armed force; do the thing. I don't understand why we are even discussing this", Javi carelessly threw the case with documents onto the table before crossing his arms over his chest. Your mouth thinned into a straight line. "No armed forces are walking into an orphanage. Those kids have enough trauma to last them a lifetime".

Javi scoffed, running his hand over his beard. "What do you suggest we roll up for a walk there with no guns, no nothing?", he said in an almost mocking manner as his lips curled upward. The room stayed silent. Your eyes met his, and you swallowed thickly. Something in Javi's face twisted. "You can't be serious…", he trailed off. "I'll just go and look; we only need access to the basement parts; hygiene security paper will do the job", you said firmly. The plan seemed simple enough. "You're not going to a potential hideout without a gun", Javi leaned closer to you over the table, fists starting to clench as he glared at you.

"It'll look suspicious", Carillo added, seeming so unphased by all of this and all the things that could go wrong that Javi had to pull the last string of self-control to not pinch him in the face. "Suspicious, my ass, she can be walking into a trap", Javi raised his voice as he shot daggers at the head of the national police unit.

"Since when do you care?", those words took a moment to sink in. And when Javi turned back to you, there was no resemblance to the man you saw a couple of minutes ago. They were dead empty, and there was only anger there. "Good luck dying there since you seem so eager", Javi spat out, not turning away from you because he wanted to see the way your face fell.

"Javi…", Steve muttered. Out of everyone in the office, he was the only one who truly knew just how much you cared for one another. Your eyes started to sting, but you didn't drop the stabbing gaze that Javi was hurling your way, "Don't worry, agent, no one will send you an invite to the funeral". With those words, you turn away from him. Snatching the papers from the table as you turn towards Carillo as if Javi was no longer around.

Did Javi regret his words instantly? No, but he regretted them the moment he watched you unbutton the dress you were going to wear so none other than Carillo would strap communication devices onto your body. He hated that his hands were on your body. Fingers tracing the soft, warm skin. Does Carillo know that Javi's fingers were there too? Does he know that Javi would give up everything, even his career, for the chance to feel that soft skin again on his body every morning? With a frown on his face, Javi put his cigarette out before snatching his jacket off the chair and heading out.

This seemed silly, but you had never gone on a mission with Javi upset with you, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. Yes, you argued often. Agreeing on something with that man was a challenge, but you made it work most of the time. You would blow each other's brains out by shouting at the office, and then one would always join the other outside for a smoke or just a breath of fresh air.

You would bump Javi's shoulder, making the frown even worse, until your fingers would sneak to pull the cigarette away from his lips so you could take a drag yourself. You would rarely talk. Both stubborn and aware that it would most definitely lead to more fighting. So silence it was. You would lean on Javi's shoulder, and he would never miss an opportunity to bring you closer to him.

The embraces at times felt so intimate that fighting back tears was a challenge. But the smell of Javi's aftershave and the smoke lingering there brought you unimaginable levels of comfort. The same comfort that you felt laying in his bed, tangled in his sheets. It had only happened a couple of times, but those couple of times were enough to make you addicted. Because the Javi at the office was nothing like the Javi you got to see behind closed doors. And it wasn't because he fucked good. No, that anyone could tell. It was because his touch did linger, and behind the wall that he had built for protection was the man who was so capable of love - he had just forgotten it.

"How could I help you, ma'am?", a voice asked, bringing you out of the trance and causing you to flinch slightly. You needed to put your head in check. This. You couldn't allow yourself to think about this while doing your job. "Hygiene check", you said, unfolding the paper and showing it to the elderly lady. She looked you up and down. "Since when are they no longer sending creepy old men?", she asked you sarcastically, and you couldn't help but chuckle. "Since I told them that it's inappropriate, especially around the kids". The woman nodded her head, dropping the paper on the front desk before reaching for the keys. "I'll walk you through the upper floors; the basement is easy to navigate on your own", she stated, moving to walk in front of you.

"Ask her about the size of the lower levels", Carillo's voice rang in your ear, and you flinched again. God, what was going on today? How can you forget that you had a communication set on, with microphones and all? They could hear your surroundings just as much. Focus, you told yourself once more. "A small basement for such a place—surely that's an issue?", you asked her, bringing the fake criteria papers to your chest and reaching for the pen so you could pretend to mark stuff.

"We don't need it. Things like fresh food and other products come in almost daily", she stated. "You have a company you work with?", you asked, looking at the pictures that covered all of the hallways. "Yes, I can give you the information, and the truck that delivered today's packages is still downstairs", she said, yet her voice slowly died down as your eyes fell on the kids playing in the colorfully painted rooms. The big windows allowed you to take a full look at them.

"Why is he alone?", the lady twisted to look back, stopping mid-sentence about the new vegetable stock, catching and following your gaze, now focused on the boy, seated in the furthest corner of the room. Knees up to his chest as he scarcely looked at the other kids. The lady sighed, "He got here not long ago. Hard to adapt. Both of his parents died, as did his sister. He's alone", bile rose in your throat as you swallowed thickly. Suddenly, you wish you had somewhere to lean on.

Javi's muscles tensed as those words rang through the car they all sat in. Carillo was about to speak into the headset, but Javi snatched it out of his hands. He doubted that Carillo knew. Maybe. He would like to believe that no one else did it besides him. That you had only trusted Javi with the story from your past that night. That you had cried because you hadn't told anyone else beforehand, and reliving it was too painful. Javi waited some more, pointing a warning finger at Carillo, who was cursing Javi in Spanish. Javi wanted to give you a moment to try and pull yourself out on your own. You were a big girl, and he knew that you could handle yourself. But everyone had their demons who possessed them at times; this just happened to be yours. Yet another reason why Javi didn't approve of this in the first place.

"You're in Bogota, not back in D.C., carino", Javi's voice filled your ears, and you had to blink a couple of times, feeling the shiver run down your back. Shiver that was followed by a wave of warmth, because if you could hear him, it meant that he came along after all. "Is he looked after?", the question seemed stupid, but you just had to know, even if it had nothing to do with why you were here, "All kids are looked after here, ma'am".

Javi cursed under his breath. You were slipping, and he could feel it. This was just too convenient. Too out of the blue. This had to be set up. To throw you off the hook so they could take you out. Javi could just feel it, and the worry only grew stronger. "Y/N, if you don't feel well, back down", Javi said again. His voice was firm. It was an order, and you knew that it was the correct one as well, but… "I'll look through the basement today", you said softly as you turned to the old lady. "Of course", she said with a nod, rushing to give you the keys.

"Y/n", Javi spoke again as a warning, but you didn't say anything. You closed your eyes for a moment to collect yourself, right as the lady showed you to the back door. Javi moved to get up instead once the line fell silent, but Carillo stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder, "You don't have the order to interfere". That made Javi's blood boil, "You, out of all people, should feel that she's not in the right mindset to be there", Carillo said nothing, only locking the car doors, his eyes now fully fixed on Javi.

The hour you spent inside there was a nightmare. You took a couple of pictures. Sneaked in some papers that seemed off. Now all you needed to do was walk out of the building, and then it would all be over. A breath that Javi didn't know he was holding slipped past his lips as he watched you walk out of the building, turning back to wave to the elderly lady before you moved closer to the street that separated you from the rest of the team. Even from back there, Javi could tell that your eyes looked hazy. A new worry sparked. What if you misread the speed of the car? What if you get hit? Javi reached for the door handle, his eyes not leaving you for a moment.

You looked around a couple more times before stepping forward; your eyes met Javi's desperate ones. And even if he knew that you were beyond pissed at him, you still shot him a slight smile. A little something that would keep his nerves at bay for now. Until you crossed the street and Javi could once again sense your perfume lingering in the car.

And then a blink of an eye changes everything. A bullet suddenly pierces your shoulder, sending you staggering back onto the street. It feels like the world had stopped as Javi watched the red stain get bigger and bigger. "Get down", Carillo shouted at the top of his lungs, making a handful of men drop to their knees, but Javi didn't move. He pushed off the car and rushed forward, "Pena, that's an order", but he was done with following orders for today. Another shot rang out. This time it sounded a lot stronger, and you suddenly gripped your lower stomach. That made Javi lose all sense; he took off running, and suddenly the distance seemed way too long. Pushing panicked people to the side as he scratches his way to you.

You didn't register the first bullet; it was like your mind blanked, and only the feeling of something wet dripping down your shoulder made you frown at the situation. It's the second bullet that pierced your left side that made you let out a scream. One that kept ringing in your ears. You could see people moving, but no one was stopping to look at you. Your mind was running so fast yet so slowly at the same time. Blinking started to get harder, your breaths were painful and shallow now.

"Carino", you heard before you could even see the face, and for a second, it felt like you were imagining it all. "Keep your eyes open", said Javi, who was now leaning over you, palm cradling your cheek as he pats it a couple of times to keep you conscious for as long as possible. Another shot rang out, and Javi turned around to fire his gun before his attention was back on you. "Not safe", you mutter, your weak fingers now wrapped around Javi's wrist. "I'll be fine", he stated blankly, drawing his gaze up for just one moment, catching a glimpse of Steve tackling a male to the ground before he's looking down at your paling face, "Can you press your palms to your shoulder, baby?"

When you don't move, Javi is the one moving his palm over the second wound, pressing as hard as he possibly can. "Let me", you mutter, and God or whatever that people believe in knows Javi was glad you don't finish that sentence because he can't and won't think of that outcome. "Don't you dare? You're walking out of here, you hear me?", Javi said letting go of your shoulder. He patted your cheek again as your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment. Anger only rushed faster as Javi shouted once again for an ambulance or a medic.

"He had Michael's eyes", you muttered, breathing now even, though Javi knew what that meant - your body was crashing. "Did he, carino?", he knows this is not a conversation he should be having with you, but he's desperate to keep you awake for as long as possible. Javi's hands were soaked with your blood by now, and so was your flowery dress. You nodded your head weakly and said, "I saw Mikey". Javi clenched his jaw, trying to keep his emotions at bay. "I hope you said hi from me as well", but your head lulled to the side. Javi's blood went ice cold because, for a split second, he thought that was it—you were dead. You bled out in his arms. Letting go of your wounds, Javi pulled you closer to his chest, your limp body looking nothing like a rag doll in his arms. The sirens rang somewhere in the air, but now all Javi could think of was how he would never be the same if you never opened your eyes again.

[ckret2]

Chapter 35 of human Bill Cipher is still prisoner of the Mystery Shack and still handcuffed to Stan in spite of their mutual irritation: we return to them under attack by the tooth fairy and her dentist lackey.

In light of this terrible peril, Bill and Stan put aside their differences, politely agree to cooperate, and work together maturely to deal with the threat—

Haha I'm kidding, no they're screaming the most offensive things they can think of at each other.

####

Packed in a dark cluttered closet, trying not to breathe too much of the same air as Bill, under the sound of the dentist mauling his way through the bedroom door, Stan growled, "Okay, genius—do you actually have a plan for when we get downstairs?"

Bill had hooked his borrowed umbrella over his elbow to let him rummage through the closet's contents. Trying to keep his voice low, he said, "We can take the fairy ring down to the guest room and make a run for the exit in the floor room." His eyes lit up with delight. "Hey! Vintage congressman top hat!" He sniffed it. "It still smells like Quentin and peanut brittle." He put on the hat.

Eugh. Stan found himself glad he couldn't see in the dark. "Why the floor room? It's a lot faster to just cut through the living room to the gift shop."

Bill hesitated. "Sure. Fine—"

"What's the matter, Bill, you got a problem with the living room?"

"What?" Bill scoffed. "Of course not. I said fine. It's fine!" He found a large baggie full of teeth, popped it open and licked one to confirm they were real, and stuck the bag under his new hat.

"But it took you a second," Stan said. "If we head for the living room, you won't slow us down by trying to go the other way, will you?"

"Of course not," Bill repeated. It was a little less convincing than the last time. "I was just—trying to figure out if that was the fastest way—"

"Oh, really," Stan pressed. "You sure you aren't scared to go in there with me?"

Bill whipped around to stare at Stan in the dark.

"You think I haven't noticed how you bolt out of the living room any time I come in?" Stan asked. "Or how you flinch every time I raise my hand?"

Bill swallowed hard. "I don't know what you're talking about." He chuckled derisively. "I think you're fantasizing, Stan—"

"Do you really think I don't remember how you died."

Bill's voice caught in his throat. "You said..."

"Yeah, I wanted to see what kind of story you'd make up. You just can't stop talking down to me even when you know it's all lies," Stan said. "As if I'd ever forget seeing you on your knees, begging me for mercy, while I shattered your face like a cheap mirror—"

Bill shoved Stan against one wall, small hands wrapped ineffectively around his throat. "You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Admit it!" Stan shoved Bill against the opposite wall; Bill tripped and landed heavily on a cardboard box. "Admit that I killed you too! I played just as much a part in it as he did!"

"You did not kill me!" Bill stood on the box, even as it threatened to collapse under his weight, so he could scream in Stan's face, "You couldn't have killed me! I'M NOT CAPABLE OF BEING KILLED BY SOMEONE LIKE YOU!"

"THEN WHY ARE YOU AFRAID OF ME?!"

"I'M NOT AFRAID—"

An enormous drill bit pierced the wood between their faces. Bill and Stan screamed.

Just on the other side of the door, Pearl cried, "Careful! Don't hit the girl's teeth!"

Stan snarled, "You moron, look what you—!"

"You started it!" Bill pounded on the door. "Hey! Frankie! Is this worth it?!" He jumped back as the drill came through again, just in front of his sternum. It grazed Stan's bicep; he roared in pain. Bill shouted, "Was paying off your dental school loans worth this? Do you wanna be a murderer, kid?!"

"I can't stop now!" Dr. Illing was audibly sobbing. "You don't understand, I'm in too deep!" The drill pierced again, widening the hole he'd already started.

"If you think she's scary, you can't imagine what I've got—"

Stan clapped a hand on Bill's shoulder hard enough to make him jump; but he growled in Bill's ear, "Count of three."

Bill hesitated, squinting at Stan's future to see what he was planning; but nodded. "Fine." He didn't understand the purpose but he could copy the motion.

Stan put his hand on the doorknob. "One, two..." Bill squeezed his eyes shut. They slammed their shoulders against the door, Stan grunting in pain. Dr. Illing's drill caught in the wood, and they kept shoving it open, jamming the dentist between the door and the wall. Bill leaned against the wood with his full weight to keep Dr. Illing trapped, using his new umbrella to swat away the fairy buzzing in his face. Stan toppled an old fortune telling machine in front of the door to pin it in place.

Pearl barked, "You're useless, Frank!" She had drawn out a wand that looked like a metallic blue toothbrush and was aiming it at Bill's face. "I'll get those teeth myself if I have to!"

Wheezing through crushed lungs, Dr. Illing said, "But the treaty—"

"What treaty?!" From five feet away, she fired a bolt of mint white magic at Bill's horrified face.

Stan seized Bill's umbrella, opened it, and deflected the spell. It ricocheted off the umbrella and punched a flaming hole through the ceiling. From behind this temporary shield, Bill took out the teeth bag and flung a handful across the room.

Pearl gasped, abandoning Dr. Illing to dart after them. "Babies! I didn't hurt you, did I?!" Huh. More effective than Bill had expected.

"Go!" Stan ran for the door, grabbing Bill by the wrist to pull him along too. Bill snatched back his umbrella as Stan paused to shut the bedroom door behind them again. Even though Dr. Illing had shredded the wood around the latch, maybe he'd still struggle to figure out how to open it.  "Living room?"

"I said fine!" Bill shut his umbrella and used it to point toward the fairy ring. "As long as you don't act immature about it!"

"I'm the one being immature?! You're the one who's scared of a room!" They stopped in the fairy ring, too close to each other for comfort; and then, with a disorienting whoosh, they were standing in an identical circle of mushrooms in the guest room. "Why does it even matter so much whether Ford or me killed you?" Stan yanked the door open. "Why is it so hard to admit that I threw the punch that took you out?!"

Bill clumsily kicked several sliced mushrooms aside, breaking the fairy ring, and nearly fell as he tried to keep up with Stan's pace. "Because you didn't kill me! You can't kill me because YOU AREN'T IMPORTANT!"

Stan spluttered in outrage, turning to stare at Bill. "Not important enough to kill you?! How does that even make sense! What, you think you're—too good for a guy like me to take down?!"

Bill's eyes widened the tiniest bit, as though he'd just realized something. A sickeningly gleeful grin stretched across his face. "It's true! I've looked into countless universes! No matter where you go or what you do, you just don't matter!" He wrenched his arm free of Stan's grip with such an effort that he nearly fell down; but he raised his gaze again to Stan's face. "If anything, you just make everything worse."

Stan's hands curled into fists. "You'd better watch your mouth—"

But when Bill planted the tip of his umbrella in the carpet and raised his cuffed hand to point at Stan, he stopped. Just a second ago Bill had been whiny and defensive; but now his inhuman gaze transfixed Stan to the spot. There was power in that mad self-assurance Stan had only ever seen before in criminal lords who commanded hundreds of gangsters. Bill bore himself like an ancient god preparing to pass judgment on a mortal, and Stan had no choice but to listen in dread to his revelation.

Bill said, "You know, I first tried to work with Stanford in a universe where you don't exist? And I couldn't get into his head! He wouldn't give me a chance!" He jabbed his finger toward Stan's chest like a knife. "Because YOU hadn't ruined his life and made him desperate enough to trust an alien! And YOU hadn't spent your whole crooked childhood training him to put up with a con artist's lies—so he'd be ready when he met me. Isn't that funny, Stanley?"

The air rushed from Stan's lungs. His voice was thin and trembling with rage. "You just— You're trying to get on my nerves." He'd never heard anything before that sounded so terribly true. 

"So what if I am! It's still true!" Bill's laughter was like a shriek. "You were stillborn in that universe! Your brother had to grow up without a twin watching over him—so he actually learned how to make friends. And he was a big success at West Coast Tech. Your mother was devastated she'd lost you—but you know what's really funny?" He had the awful grin of a court jester about to deliver a punchline that would start a war. "I think your family loved that dead baby you more than they ever liked the disappointment you turned out to be—"

Stan socked Bill as hard as he could.

He expected Bill to flinch, to duck, to shield his head—something. Bill always flinched. Instead he locked up, facing Stan, wide-eyed and watching the incoming blow. The punch connected with his face with a sickening crunch. Bill toppled flat on his back. His top hat and umbrella tumbled across the floor. The chain jerked Stan down to kneel over Bill.

It was like a spell had broken. Stan stared down at Bill like an idiot. He felt like an idiot. The shock even snapped him out of his anger. He uncurled his fist, saw a smear of blood on one knuckle, tried to say something, and only managed to come up with, "Aw, jeez."

Bill was weak. He wasn't a demon anymore; he was a yappy chihuahua trying to sound bigger than he was because he was scared. Stan knew that. He was only kicking a washed-up loser of a con artist while he was down.

He'd been there before.

Bill had slapped his hand over his mouth and nose, fingers digging into the skin, eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Stan swallowed hard. "Hey, I didn't mean to do that much— I mean, you had it coming, but still... uh... you okay?" He awkwardly offered Bill a hand.

Bill reached up—and placed a bloody tooth, root and all, in Stan's palm. 

Stan stared. "Wh."

"Tooth fairy bait." Bill gave Stan a wild, bloody smile. "Thanks for the help. It's been loose for days."

Tooth fairy— Stan automatically glanced toward the doorway to see whether their pursuers were catching up. And only then did he realize they were in the middle of the living room, standing in front of Stan's armchair. He'd been set up.

He stared at Bill.

Bill glared up at Stan. Voice rough, he said, "Who's scared of you?" He spat a wad of bloody spit at Stan's face. The attempt was so weak it landed on Bill's own shirt. A far cry from the whiny triangle who'd tried to bribe Stan into sparing his life.

They both looked up at the sound of wood cracking. Stan said, "All right, we've got bait." He seized Bill's bloody hand and, with a grunt, tried to heave him upright. "Can we set a trap?"

Bill unsteadily climbed to his feet. "I guess?" Either he hadn't thought past getting punched in the face, or the blow had knocked his plan out of his head.

Upstairs, Pearl snapped, "Now hurry, before we lose them!" Dr. Illing's footsteps thudded across the attic floorboards.

"Move," Stan hissed, and when Bill turned to glance cluelessly behind himself at the door, Stan rolled his eyes and shoved him.

Bill tripped over the steps up to the gift shop and stumbled backwards through the swinging door, with Stan following. When Bill had steadied himself, he stared in wide-eyed bafflement at the door he'd just passed through. "How did I..."

"Focus, Cipher!" Stan snapped his fingers in Bill's face. "Gimme some nerdy magic. What traps fairies?"

Bill dragged his gaze away from the door and shook his head woozily. "Uhh... carefully-worded contracts... salt lines, iron..."

"You couldn't have mentioned salt when we could've reached the kitchen?" Stan looked around the gift shop. Iron, iron...

"Wow, that's a great idea. Remind me why we were so bent on getting to the living room?"

"Watch it. You've got a few teeth left." Stan smacked Bill's arm, making him jump, and pointed. "Got it! The old diving helmet!"

Bill squinted his eyes unevenly. "Oh yeah—the one Fordsy got ripped off on. Hey—didja know diving helmets are supposed to be copper, but he got sold a spray-painted—"

"For two minutes, please stop talking about my brother. Will it work?" 

Bill slowly traced a finger through the air as if he were trying to track the path of something only he could see. "Yeah, it could work."

"'Could'?"

The gaps at the top and bottom of the "Employees Only" door glowed bright blue. "Fresh blood," Pearl said, "they went this way!"

"Give me the tooth," Bill said. "And keep Frank out, we're dead if he gets in."

"In there!" Pearl cried, and Dr. Illing's drill revved again. The door to the living room was a swinging door without a latch; curse or no, if Dr. Illing hit it, it would fly right open.

Stan yelled, "Hold it! Do not drill that door! It's... it's load bearing! Yeah, if you start hacking holes in it the whole shack could come down on us!"

The drill powered down. Dr. Illing said dubiously, "That doesn't sound right, but I don't know enough about doors to dispute it."

Pearl swooped under the door—carrying an armload of the teeth Bill had thrown earlier—but she turned around when she realized Dr. Illing wasn't following. "What are you stopping for, you idiot! He's lying! Doors don't work like that—"

"Hey, sparkles!" Bill held his bloody tooth up next to his head. "You want this?!"

She gasped in horror, clapping her hands over her mouth and dropping the teeth. "You knocked it out! You monster, what if you chipped it?!" She drew her wand again and, with a tiny shrill roar, she dove for it.

Bill pulled it out of her way with the grace of a matador dodging a bull. She wheeled around faster than Bill could react, flung a spell at his back, and made another dive for the tooth. Stan jerked him out of the way. Bill laughed, "Is that all you've got? I've seen better flying out of dandelion seeds!"

She whirled around to face him again with a growl of frustration, fluffy bob cut puffed up in rage, wings buzzing like the propeller of a fighter plane. The third time she dove for the tooth, she snatched it out of Bill's fingers.

And immediately rammed head-first into the back of the solid iron diving helmet. It rang out like a broken bell. She croaked, "ow."

Stan slammed the front window of the helmet shut. "Ha!"

"Yes!" Bill pointed at the helmet. "You're stupid!"

Dr. Illing—who had dropped down to the ground to peer through the three-inch gap at the bottom of the door—cried, "No!" He pounded on the door in frustration. It swung a few inches open. He stared at it in bafflement. It swung back and hit him in the forehead.

"Well, well, well. It looks like we've got a proper hostage situation, don't we?" Bill rapped on top of the helmet with his umbrella's hooked handle. "Better stay away from the sides, Pearly. What would you say touching iron feels more like—being burned, or electrified? I've always wondered, but never had an opportunity to possess a fairy—"

Stan elbowed him. "Ix-nay on the ossess-pay."

"Right, right." Bill turned to Dr. Illing. "It'd be pretty easy for me to bounce your patron off the walls of this thing. So how's about you drop the power tools and back away from the door?"

Dr. Illing gave Bill the despairing look of a man who'd been struggling to carry an impossibly heavy weight for decades, only for one swift jab in the ribs to make him drop it. But he got to his feet, and after a moment, his yellow tool bag dropped heavily beside the door.

Stan opened the door, slung the bag over his shoulder before Bill got a chance to rifle through it, and pulled out the drill Dr. Illing had been menacing them with. Holding Dr. Illing at drill point, he nodded toward the gift shop exit. "Get walking. Outside."

"But..." Dr. Illing tried to look past Bill and Stan to the diving helmet.

Bill slung an arm around Dr. Illing's back, aggressively encouraging him to hasten toward the door. "Don't worry about her! We plan to resolve this peacefully, don't we, Fisher?"

"Oh yeah," Stan said. "Nothing to worry about."

"But we're negotiating with the boss, not the lackey. So..."

Stan opened the door. Bill planted a foot on Dr. Illing's butt and shoved. "Out you go!"

Dr. Illing went sprawling across the porch. Stan slammed the door on him as he got to his hands and knees. He looked over his shoulder to give them a look like a puppy who'd been kicked out in the rain.

"You're going to be in so much trouble when I get out of here," Pearl yelled. She grabbed the bars across the window in the diving helmet, then gasped and withdrew her hands as the iron burned her palms. "When the fairy queen hears about this—!"

"That you were breaking into a human dwelling to try to rip my teeth out of my mouth?" Bill asked. "Oh, I'd love to know what she'll think of that."

Stan rummaged in the nook where Wendy shoved spare napkins and plasticware whenever she brought fast food to work. He used a few napkins to wipe off the bloody scrape the drill had left on his shoulder in the closet, and held a handful out to Bill. "Here."

Bill took them. "What?"

"Your face is a mess. Thought you might wanna—you know." Stan attempted to pantomime shoving napkins in his mouth. As much as Stan thought Bill had deserved the sock, he'd feel like a heel if he didn't help clean him up after the fact.

"Oh. Right." Bill attempted to wipe off his chin, then stuffed a napkin up in the gap where his tooth used to be and pulled it out to see how much blood it picked up. It was a lot. He shrugged and turned to the tooth fairy, grinning. "So. I believe we were negotiating?"

"I'm not negotiating anything with you," Pearl huffed. "Look at what you did to this poor tooth!" She was hugging it protectively to her chest, her thin blue dress stained with blood from the root. "Maybe I haven't obeyed the spirit of my treaty, but I've obeyed the letter of it, and the fairy court will back me up on that—"

"Again, you did try to rip my teeth straight out of my mouth in the middle of the night," Bill said.

"I never! A dentist did! If he happened to feel like giving me the tooth after that, that's his business, isn't it. I could have been aiming my wand at anybody, you don't know."

"Sure, sure! You did nothing wrong. You slid neatly through those loopholes. Maybe your court will even agree with you." Bill leaned closer to the helmet, grinning through the window. "But don't you think—if I drive over to Multnomah County, walk backwards into your queen's court, and tell her what you've been doing—she won't want to close those loopholes? No more hench-dentists."

Pearl had gone very still. "'Walk b—'? How do you... What do you know about our court?"

Bill laughed wryly. "Kid, I've known your court since before it moved to America. I've spoken with the ancestors of the ancestors of your queen. The fae tell fairy tales about me, so if you know what's good for you—"

"Easy." Stan put a warning hand on Bill's shoulder. "Just because she's not human doesn't mean you can just..."

"I know, I know."

Pearl had been watching Bill skeptically as he spoke, clearly trying to weigh how much of his boasting was true—but seeing Stan try to silence him apparently persuaded her of his honesty. Her eyes widened in alarm. "Who—What's your name?"

Bill cast a sideways glance toward Stan, then shrugged ruefully. "Afraid I'm not allowed to tell. You know where we are—even people like you and me can't afford to disobey the collector's house rules. You can call me Goldie Locke. And if you don't want me to negotiate your release with your queen, then you'd better be willing to negotiate with us. Are we clear?"

Pearl nodded.

"Wonderful." (Dr. Illing had circled the gift shop to the nearest window, where he was staring forlornly in at Bill, Stan, and the helmet containing Pearl. Bill waved cheerfully at him.) "I don't know about the Fisherman, here—but I, for one, would like to make sure this doesn't become a problem again. So how about this: if you promise to leave, never harass us again, never have your agents harass us, never via any means attempt to harm us or steal our worldly goods—teeth included—either directly or indirectly, and never return to this house, then we promise not to report your little dentist scheme to your queen. Does that sound fair to you?"

Pearl pouted; but she reluctantly nodded. "Yes, yes—that's fair. I agree."

"Hold on," Stan said. "Once she's outta here, how do we know she'll keep that promise? Shouldn't we get some kind of, I don't know, insurance?"

"She's a fairy," Bill said. "She can't lie even if she wants to. They're compelled to tell the truth. They can twist it, and they can try to get you with tricky wording, but they can't lie. Once they've made a promise, it's unbreakable."

Stan considered that. "Huh." He'd have to double-check that claim with Ford later, he'd know.

"Which is why I get along so well with them," Bill said cheerily, "since I never lie either."

Stan laughed loudly, smacking Bill's back. "Sure! And I'm the queen of England."

Bill mock bowed. "Oh my, your majesty. I had no idea." Stan laughed again.

"I agreed to your terms," Pearl snapped, "so set me free!"

"Hold on." Bill propped his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, leaning close to the helmet again. "I seem to recall I only promised not to tattle to your queen. I didn't promise to let you go." He glanced at Stan. "Isn't that what you heard?"

Now what was he up to? But Stan nodded in agreement. "That's what I heard, all right."

Bill winked. "Like I said: tricky wording."

Pearl let out a swear that sounded like tinkling bells and stomped her foot. "That's ridiculous! If you've already sworn not to tell the queen about my methods, you no longer have any blackmail against me! You can negotiate with her for my release now, for all I care!"

"Your tricky wording backfired," Stan said.

Bill didn't look bothered. "All right. I'm sure you're happy to wait right here until we make the long drive into town, aren't you. You do know where we are, right?"

The fairy's face immediately darkened. "You... I don't see why not! There's nothing to fear in this house."

"Isn't there? Want us to go wake up the head of the house, ask him to babysit you until we get back?" Bill asked.

Huff. "He's gone."

"He's back," Bill said. "If you're lucky, maybe he'll stick you in the freezer for an hour, so it won't hurt when he pins your wings to a cork board." (Stan blinked at Bill in amazement. Head of the house—Soos? Soos?)

Pearl shuddered. "You're a liar."

"Am I?" Bill raised his cuffed wrist. "I've worked with the queens of your queens. I have powers you've never dreamed of. Do you think I'm chained to a doppelgänger for fun?"

Stan said, "To a wh...?" but at Bill's sharp look, he fell silent. All right. A lot of phrases that didn't make sense to him had just flown by. Clearly Bill was using some kind of fairy talk mumbo-jumbo to give her a wildly inaccurate impression of what was going on in this shack. Stan had manners, he wasn't about to interrupt a fellow professional in the middle of conning a mark.

Pearl worked her jaw angrily; but there was something nervous in her gaze now, glancing between Stan's face, the handcuffs, and the rest of the shack. "Maybe you're not as important as you think you are," she said unconvincingly.

"I've got magic teeth, girl."

"Fine!" Pearl stamped her foot. "Fine, I'll negotiate with you! What else do you want?"

Bill pointed at her chest. "I want to choose my payment for that tooth there."

She hugged the tooth protectively, but said, "Fine."

Bill looked at Stan. "You want anything?"

He considered that. "Better-fitting dentures would be nice? Can she do that? Is that something I can ask for?"

"Yeah, you can ask for that."

"Is that all?" Pearl snapped.

"Dentures for him, payment for me, unenchant our door and take out the carvings you left in it, and..." Bill glanced at Stan again, who shrugged. Bill said, "Yeah, I think that's it. Deal?"

"Deal!"

Bill gestured toward the helmet, and Stan flipped its front window open. Pearl stepped out, hovered up level with Stan's face, and gave him a murderous glare; but she drew out her toothbrush wand again and flicked it at him. "There. Happy?"

Stan adjusted his jaw thoughtfully. "Yeah. Oh, those're real nice. Hardly feels like they're there."

"They're better than you deserve," Pearl said haughtily; then turned to Bill. "And you? What payment do you want?"

Bill grinned wide, pointing at the new gap in his teeth. "Solid gold replacement! 24k."

"Pure gold's too malleable for dental work."

"I don't care, this body's a temp. Gimme the good stuff."

She gave him a sour look, but again waved her wand. The blood evaporated from Bill's teeth and gums and a new tooth materialized in the gap, the exact shape of the original but shining gold. Bill licked it experimentally. "Yeah, that'll do."

"Now get outta here," Stan said, "and take your creepy tooth temple with you."

"Hmph!" She turned her nose up at both of them; then zipped across the gift shop, ducking down to snatch up a couple of dropped teeth as she went. She dipped under the door into the living room and was gone.

"Well," Bill said. "We ended up better than we started. Free dental work, a bag of tools..."

"A bunch of property damage," Stan said. "We should've asked her to fix the kids' door."

"Ah." Bill winced. "Nooo, no, probably best we didn't push our luck. Fixing the other door's enough."

Stan shook his head, without much real rancor. "Can't admit you made a mistake, can you?"

"That would be a lie, wouldn't it? And like I said, I'd never lie." Bill smiled impishly. His new tooth gleamed in the dim light. "Let's clean up some of the teeth and mushrooms, huh?"

####

Sweeping up the gift shop was awkward with the handcuffs in the way, but they worked out a system: Stan handled the broom while Bill knelt and held the dustpan. Bill had retrieved his borrowed top hat and umbrella when they went for the broom, and now he kept his cuffed hand on the umbrella, which limited Stan's movement. He almost fussed about it, until he realized Bill's hand was shaking, and each time he stood he leaned on the umbrella like a wobbly cane. Stan tried not to notice how Bill sometimes winced when he had to turn his neck.

As they awkwardly swept up the gift shop, Bill said, "Lucky you got the dentist to stop drilling the door in time, huh."

"What?"

Bill nodded toward the living room. "The load bearing door? I didn't even realize it was that important." He laughed flatly. "We'd really be in trouble if he'd managed to knock it out, huh."

Stan stared at Bill. And then he burst out laughing.

"What?"

"You idiot, doors aren't load bearing!"

Bill stared up at Stan, face slowly going red. "Well, wh— How was I supposed to know that!" Over Stan's laughter, he demanded, "Then why did you tell him it was?!"

"Eh, if he'd so much as nudged the door, he could've gotten right through. Even with that curse you put on him," Stan said. "I had to say something to keep his drill away from it."

"Huh."

Stan could practically see the gears trying to turn in Bill's head as he attempted to understand that information. Maybe he should lay off the poor guy. It was really funny that a little curse made him too stupid to work a door; but he'd turned around and used that same curse to save their hides, Stan should probably give him a temporary pass just for that. He cleared his throat and tried to think of another topic. "Using that tooth as bait wasn't a bad idea."

"Yeah, it was pretty good."

"You could've just asked me to knock it out, though."

Bill glanced up at Stan. His face said, No I couldn't.

Stan understood.

During Stan's decade of travel—thrust into the world far too young, scared, alone, and homeless, with nothing but his wits and a mask of machismo—he had seen, again and again, the truth in one of his father's most frequent lessons: if you weren't tough, then you were nothing. Didn't matter what kind of money, possessions, or friends you had. If you weren't tough enough, you could lose them all in an instant.

And so often, toughness wasn't measured by how many punches it took to knock you down, but by whether the first one made you flinch.

The best thing you could do for yourself was win a fight. But if you didn't stand a chance (and Bill—short, noodle-armed, tiny-fisted, barely able to control his body, facing a man who'd been boxing for fifty years—didn't stand a chance), then the next best thing you could do was show that you could take it like a man. It might win you respect. If it didn't, then at the least it might let you keep some dignity. Bill was desperate for dignity.

Stan had the feeling that Bill had played this game before.

Who had Bill been before Weirdmageddon? Who had he been, that he could call Stan nothing but a con artist and a complete failure who'd have been better off never born—and in between suggest that Ford only trusted Bill because he reminded him of Stan?

####

They cleaned up as best they could, then dragged themselves back to bed.

Bill gave Stan a hopeful look. "Do I get to sleep in the guest room now?"

"No." Ford would murder Stan if he found out he'd let Bill sleep on his bed, and in his final moments Stan would probably think the murder was justified. And that was assuming Bill didn't murder Stan in his sleep.

"Aww, c'mon!" Bill said. "And here I thought we'd bonded a little!"

"Are you kidding? After you said I'm the reason you fooled my brother and my family would be happier if I was dead?!"

Bill laughed lightly. "You're too sensitive!"

As they repositioned their cushions and mattress on either side of the ajar door, Stan paused. "Was that stuff true? Or did you just say it to get a rise out of me."

"What, everything about Stanford being an only child? Naaah—I just thought it would be funny to make you mad."

In his heart, Stan knew Bill had been telling the truth.

Maybe not about there being a dimension where Stanford grew up alone, maybe Bill had made that up; but if so, he'd only made up a fiction that echoed the truth. Mr. Hotshot All-Seeing Eye was right: Stan had only made things worse for the people around him. The best thing he'd ever done with his life was put it on the line to destroy Bill. And apparently, even that hadn't been good enough. 

Not for the first time over the past month, Stan wondered: if he'd never recovered his memories, would Bill have died with them? Was that the lifeline that had let Bill claw his way back? Would it have been better if neither of them had ever recovered? If they'd gone down into oblivion chained together?

Probably, on some cosmic level. Bill would be gone. Stan could've used his last few years learning to be a guy that brought more to the table than lying and punching. Everyone would be having a much better summer this year. But, on the other hand, Stan liked having his memories; and to be honest, Bill had been pretty worthless so far. Maybe it was okay that Stan had only done a C+ job at demon-killing. C+ was a passing grade; and he'd never been a straight A's kind of guy. 

They'd just have to grudgingly tolerate being chained together.

Stan said, "So was it 'funny' getting your teeth knocked in, too?"

Bill considered that; then let out an involuntary giggle. "Yeah, actually." He settled down on his cushion bed. "But—no, really, I never saw a universe where you two weren't inseparable as kids. I'm sure it happened somewhere, the multiverse is infinite—but I didn't dig that hard. Wasn't one of my priorities. I only needed one Stanford to get my portal running, and the one here did just fine."

Stan still didn't think Bill was telling the whole truth; but then, Stan didn't think Bill had been telling the whole truth earlier, either. Bill wasn't actually telling Stan anything about what the multiverse was like—he was just telling Stan how he wanted Stan to feel.

And Bill could have said that everything he'd said earlier was true. But he didn't.

"You really are a pretty good liar, Cipher," Stan said. "It's too bad you're a lousy dirtbag bent on world domination, or you could've made a decent partner-in-crime."

"Yeah?" Bill settled down, holding his broken umbrella to his side and laying his free arm over his collapsed top hat, as if he was worried someone would steal them in his sleep. (Stan would have to get that umbrella in the morning. It had been fine for Bill to keep it while they were fighting for their lives, but he couldn't keep a blunt weapon covered in metal poky bits indefinitely.) "Well, my schedule's clear and I'm bored. Let me know if anything comes up."

"Don't count on it." Stan slid their chain under the door and pushed it shut.

Bill had wiggled out of explaining why he wouldn't admit that Stan had killed him; but Stan didn't think he needed to ask again. He kinda had an idea. He was at that age where he was starting to worry what his obituary would say, too. "Killed by his dimension-hopping long-time nemesis with 12 PhDs" probably sounded a lot better than "Killed by a crooked grifter in his underwear." The first one might let you keep some dignity.

####

Dipper and Mabel came home shortly after dawn. The light was already on in the kitchen; Mabel curiously ducked in to see why. "Grunkle Stan! Bill! What are you doing up so early?" She paused. "Is that my top hat?"

"Mine now."

Stan and Bill were sitting at the kitchen table, with two plates of eggs and bacon (Bill's eggs had chocolate sauce), and mugs of, respectively, coffee and Mabel juice spiked with ground-up caffeine pills. Stan had a bandage on one arm. They looked exhausted. Their wrists were still handcuffed. 

"Oh, you know—" Stan yawned, "—just... full of vim and vigor today."

Dipper surveyed them, tried not to laugh when he saw the cuffs, and asked, "Did you guys even get any sleep?"

Stan grunted and looked at Bill to field that one.

Bill said, "By the looks of it, more than you two did." Dipper's and Mabel's hair were tangled messes, and their clothes were stained with dirt and grass. Dipper looked like he'd fallen on his side into a mud puddle. "How'd the monster hunt go?"

"Partial success!" Mabel said. "The thing that was stealing Pacifica's alpacas came back and we froze its leg! We followed it back to its forest lair and rescued the alpacas! Including Giorgio!"

"The anomaly got away, though," Dipper said, more to himself than anyone else. "But how? It was ten feet tall, it couldn't have hidden. Unless it was... abducted, maybe? In some invisible space ship...?"

Bill rolled his open eye. "Hey—how many of the alpacas were shorn by the time you got to them?"

Mabel gave him a surprised look. "Everyone but Giorgio. How'd you know?"

"We don't need to know," Dipper said quickly. "We can figure it out on our own. C'mon, Mabel." He headed upstairs. Mabel shrugged apologetically, and followed after him.

Stan watched them go, then asked Bill, "So what did take the rich kid's exotic sheep?"

"Freak in the woods who really likes wool suits."

"Huh." Stan sipped his coffee. "It's not dangerous to the kids, is it?"

"Not as long as they don't try to film him." Bill picked up a strip of bacon, tiredly tried to stick it in his eye, sighed, and redirected it to the correct hole.

From upstairs, Mabel shouted, "What happened to our door?"

Stan winced. "Don't worry about it, sweetie! I'll fix it later."

Bill said, "We didn't clean upstairs, did we."

Stan tried to remember what all had been left behind. Bedsheet hanging out the window, teeth on the floor... "It's—it's fine. Those kids love mysteries."

"Ha. Yeah, the boy would probably just get mad if we told him what happened before he figured it out himself."

There was the faint sound of the vending machine opening. A moment later, Ford walked in with an empty mug of coffee. "You're up early," he said. "Did you sleep well?"

Bill gave Ford a sleepy smirk. "Aw, I didn't know you cared."

Ford shot Bill a glower, did a double take at the top hat, then shook his head and looked away. "I wasn't asking you. I hope you got a crick in your neck that lasts the rest of your life." (Bill laughed.)

Stan shrugged off the question. "Oh yeah, no problem. Got comfortable and didn't move all night."

"We barely even noticed the cuffs," Bill said, stifling a yawn. "Slept like babies."

Ford raised a skeptical brow. Still, he nodded and went to get coffee for himself. Stan had a broken umbrella hanging from the back of his chair; Ford assumed it was yet another confiscated weapon and picked it up to move somewhere Bill couldn't access it. "Well, I'm relieved that at least nothing weird happened last night."

"Yeah, nothing weird at all," Stan said.

"Most normal night of my life," Bill said.

There was a knock on the door. At this hour of the morning? Ford said, "I'll get that."

He answered the door.

On the porch was a haggard, slumped, very sad looking man in a white lab coat. Nearly on the verge of tears, he asked, "Can I please have my ability to open doors back? I—I had to sleep outside last night. So many bugs."

Ford stared at him. "Only the person who cast the spell can lift it. Just a moment."

He ducked into the kitchen, glared at Bill, and said, "'Slept like babies,' did you?"

Neither Bill's nor Stan's innocent smile was convincing.

Ford focused on Bill's mouth. "And where'd you get that tooth?"

"Ah." Bill looked at Stan.

Stan cleared his throat. "So the good news is, we've got a great story for your journal."

####

(And that concludes the tooth fairy arc! If you enjoyed it, I'd love hearing from y'all! I'm really proud of how this whole plot came out. Next week we start on the absolute stupidest plot arc you've ever seen.)

[softpine]

can i just word vomit for a min...

there was a point in late 2023 where i felt like i overstayed my welcome on simblr and i planned on just wrapping frozen pines up as quickly as possible and moving on. continuing to write when it's clear that the audience for it is dwindling felt so embarrassing that i almost didn't even want to put effort into it anymore, because i was afraid it just looked pathetic (obligatory disclaimer: no one made me feel this way, you're all so lovely, it's just the nature of seeing a community change over 7 years). writing already feels very personal to me and it's becoming increasingly harder for me to put my work out there (again, for reasons unrelated to simblr and entirely related to mental illness 🤙🏻). i know my story is so long that it deters new readers, and so sporadic that it makes old readers drop off with time. this has really been bothering me lately because i don't know what i can do to fix it. i don't think there IS anything i can do.

but. okay. don't make fun of me for saying this. dan and phil returning to youtube kinda changed my mindset? they may be pulling a fraction of the views they got in their peak, but they're happier than they've ever been and they're working on things they actually want to do, not things they think will be particularly popular. seeing that has made me realize that it is possible to keep finding joy in a community that has largely moved on without you. obviously my little blog is nowhere near the same scale, so this feels kind of silly, but i've been thinking about all the things i used to do on simblr that were never fun for me, i mainly did them because i knew they would get notes or because i felt like i had to do it. making cc, lookbooks, sim requests, reshade help (oh my god the reshade help), lot downloads, etc. they DID get notes, but i can't imagine spending my time doing any of that stuff ever again tbh.

on top of that, it makes me sad to scroll through my dash and realize that i don't recognize most of the people i see anymore. i still talk to some wonderful people here who i consider friends and that's invaluable to me (💖), but the broader community aspect is something i no longer feel a part of. and believe me, i know i'm at fault here because it's not like i'm going out of my way to talk to new people or participate in trends like i used to. i don't blame anyone except the passage of time!!

frozen pines, and simblr by extension, played such a gigantic part in my life when i needed it the most. and that's not to say that i don't still care about it, because i absolutely do, but it's a different kind of feeling. i've always promised that i would give frozen pines a satisfying conclusion rather than silently abandoning it someday, and though i do intend to keep that promise, i know it's possible that i might never get there. but i don't want to let my own insecurities get in the way of something i really enjoy doing. writing is an intrinsic piece of me that i'll never quit doing, but sharing my writing on tumblr is something that can't (and shouldn't) last forever. i know that. but i'm going to enjoy it to the fullest while we're all still here together 💞

to anyone who's still reading my silly story after all these years (especially those of you who still check in on my blog even though you're not on simblr anymore): thank you thank you thank you THANK YOUUU. you don't have to change a single thing about what you're doing. this is not me fishing for compliments or putting down an ultimatum, this is just me trying to make sense of my feelings.

but with all this being said, i've decided to quit simblr and start my own exclusive streaming service for $60 a year, i hope you'll all support me as i increase my production value 😌

(just kidding. ily. okay that's all)

[seniaasaysstuff]

hii i was wondering if you do requests, ill leave here this request and if you dont do them or dont like this feel free to ignore this!<3

its sukuna (or characters of your choice) x fem! reader where she gave birth to a baby but sadly it died so she fell into depression and sukuna is worried but tries not to show it much

thank you even for reading this, take care!<3

TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️- miscarriage.

Hi anon! This is actually my first request haha. Thank you for the request! I tried to write a happy kind of ending?

Um I hope you like it :D Have a great day<33

SADNESS ; ryomen sukuna.

Sukuna may be considered as someone that didn’t have feelings, a monster, an unnatural freak but he loved you.

The first time he ever laid his eyes on you, sukuna knew you were the one for him.

Even though you were a sickly person, you diligently took care of sukuna when he was wounded. You tried your best to protect him from the villagers. You even went as far as taking a hit that was meant for him.

One day sukuna asked you to leave with him.

You accepted, you didn’t have anyone in the world other than him.

You knew about sukuna being a powerful sorcerer but you always worried about his safety.

Soon sukuna built an estate just for you.

He took great care of you. You never had to worry about a thing. He treated you like a queen.

He courted you and married you like a respectful gentleman.

Everyone in the estate respected you, some even feared you as they believed that you were the only one that could control sukuna.

The estate maids adored you, you treated them so kindly, always greeting them. To them even though you were a sickly person, you always were bubbly, so friendly.They always felt delighted when they saw sukuna sama treat you with devotion because in their eyes you deserved the best.

After a year of your marriage, you felt lonely.

When you noticed the estate maids with their children it made you cry.

You knew you would have great difficulty having kids but you wanted to try having a baby with sukuna. You always envisioned having a child that looked just like sukuna, your husband.

Sukuna vehemently refused as he was worried about your safety. But after your incessant pleas he gave in. He couldn’t handle you and your puppy dog eyes begging him for a baby every day and it worked.

You were finally pregnant. Sukuna got the most sought out doctors for you.

The pregnancy took a toll on you. It was taxing both for your physical and mental health. The morning sickness made you unable to stomach anything and it made you look even more sickly.

While you were walking around one day you felt cramps. They were alarming and it felt like you were dying. You felt something warm trickle down your leg. It felt like blood. You looked down and cried out. You were bleeding.

After hearing you scream, the maids came down rushing. They yelled for the doctor as they ushered you into the room. Sukuna dropped everything as he heard you cry out and ran towards your room.

Pain, all you could feel was pain when the doctor sadly informed you that you had miscarried. You wailed for your lost child.

You never really recovered from your miscarriage. You stopped leaving your room, always sitting in your room looking out of the window sadly. You lost your appetite neither did you have the energy to do anything.

You never really knew it but sukuna cried.

He was so worried for you. He didn’t care for the baby, sure it hurt but you were the only thing that mattered to him.

He did his best to cheer you up. He did not know what to do to make you feel better. He didn’t wish for you to grow distant and fall into depression. So he took you on walks, tried getting you gifts like jewelry, he attempted to make jokes to make you laugh but it didn’t work. Nothing worked.

He was growing even more frightened for you.

If you went on like this you could die and he didn’t want that.

One day sukuna dropped on his knees in front of you. “My love,” he rasped.

“Please let me take care of you. I vow to you that I would do everything in my power to help you. Don’t ignore me please my darling. Kill me if you wish but talk to me. I can’t handle you not talking to me.” His voice cracked. Tears were threatening to fall.

“It was not your fault. Believe me, it wasn’t, curse me all you want but please don’t do this. I can’t do this anymore- seeing you trying to kill yourself.” He let out a tired sigh.

You let out a sob. “I don’t know what to do kuna. I lost our baby.” Sukuna lifted and placed you in his lap. You clutched his kimono and wept against his chest.

“You didn’t lose our baby sweetheart. None of it was your fault. We can always try for another or adopt if you want hm?” He tried to soothe you.

“But-” You trembled. He placed a finger against your lips.

“My love, it's okay.” He assured you.

“It’s okay to miss the baby. But don’t beat yourself up over it.” He murmured.

A few months later you had settled down a bit. You at times felt empty. You didn’t have anything to fill up the void. Sure sukuna tried his best to keep you happy but it wasn’t enough.

“You know what? You wanted a baby to look like me right?” Sukuna barged inside your shared room with his hands behind his back. You were confused. You didn’t know what was going on nor Why he was bringing up babies?

“Here meet Yuji and Mizuho.” He handed you two infants.

“What is the meaning of this?” You shrieked.

“Did you steal someone’s kids?” You shouted. “Look at the children.” He whispered. You looked down and noticed they looked oddly similar to sukuna.

You glanced at him in bewilderment. “I made them with my cursed energy. I knew you wanted children but I couldn’t put you through hell again.” He proudly spoke.

“I know you were planning to name our child Yuji if it was a boy and Mizuho if it was a girl.” He added. Tears were brimming in your eyes. “You did all of this for me?” You stuttered.

“I love you. This was nothing. I’m willing to do anything for you.” He hoarsely spoke. “I know it will not make you forget about the baby nor will it fill the empty void. But I want you to be happy.”

[hikarry]

Crowley probably didn't keep any sort of direct contact with Warlock or the Dowling's after working as a tutor in the house, but I'm sure he still keeps an eye on Warlock from afar just to make sure he is doing alright because he is a sentimental lil snake that can't let go

Aziraphale didn't have that problem because he's not that great with kids anyway and he was just a gardener for most of the time. But Crowley was also the nanny. He raised the boy ever since he was a small kid and most definitely spent more time with him during Warlock's first 11 years than anyone else. Of course the softie would get attached

In the beginning, it had just been a job for the both of them. Another task to try and prevent the Apocalypse and save their way of living, but the line between pretending and being blurred quite fast. Pretending was easy. Hell, he's a demon. Pretending is part of the job to get temptations done. He is a pro with 6000 years of experience under his belt. But suddenly, he started caring. He started smiling when the tiny hands reached out to him. He relaxed when he swayed Warlock on his arms and sang him lullabies until the wee child fell asleep. He laughed when he carefully sat on the floor with his skirts and played with plastic dinosaurs to entertain the boy. He felt warm inside when the small child insisted on sitting on his lap when they were watching some stupid brain rotting cartoons on the telly. He felt slightly more alive when the kid held his hand and pulled him around enthusiastically on their trips to the observatory and Crowley had the chance to share random facts about the stars and the galaxy in general to two very interested ears. Yes, it was about saving the planet and swaying the child between being good and evil, but that wasn't just it, was it? Not when Warlock fell ill and Crowley stayed up all night to tend to him or when the kid had nightmares and he yelled for the nanny and not for his mother.

Crowley knew how to calm him down and how to make him laugh. He had a mental catalog of all his facial expressions and what they meant. He was right there before the child even started crying, picking him up, pulling him to his chest, and singing to him while caressing his hair because he knew that's what he needed. A little bit of attention he barely got from his parents. A little bit of love. Crowley, better than anyone else, knows what it is to have negligent parents, and he wouldn't let Warlock be tainted by that if he had anything to say about it. Alas, he saw a lot of himself in the kid.

Shit thing is, after the birthday party, he has no reason to see him anymore. He could keep visiting him as the Nanny or the Tutor but what when Warlock started questioning why he didn't age? Crowley wouldn't expose his demonic nature like he forcibly did with Adam

Cause yes I believe Adam has his number and they end up growing quite close after Armageddon. Not only cause Adam thinks Aziraphale and Crowley are hella cool but because Crowley delivered the boy, bloody hell! Sure he didn't look after him for 11 years like he did Warlock but he's still a softie! An "I had you in a basket in the back of my car when you were a new born. I delivered you to the nunnery where you would meet your parents" type of softie

He cares about Adam, but he low-key cares more about Warlock and its tragic that's exactly the boy he doesn't have a reason to be close to anymore

Bet every year on Warlock's birthday he goes check on him and sends a quick miracle his way before heading to Adam's birthday party