#my dad saw me drawing the one on the left and was like why are you drawing shaggy. man.

[slydiddledeedee]

there's a storm front coming and nami is READY

#one piece #nami #slydiddledeeart #opart #my dad saw me drawing the one on the left and was like why are you drawing shaggy. man. #VERY funny

[aidaronan]

"First movie you ever saw in theaters?" Steve lounged opposite of Robin on the couch in his living room, the stereo on low, spitting out Madonna on the local radio station.

"Oh, that's easy." Robin bit off part of a licorice. "Freaky Friday. I remember because I was terrified for weeks that I'd end up switching places with my mom and have to, like, balance a checkbook or something."

Steve laughed, separating m&ms in his hand. "You still don't know how to balance a checkbook, do you?"

"Like you do." Robin playfully glared at him. "Okay, here's a good one. First kiss."

Steve ate the sole blue m&m first, a grin spreading across his face because he usually lied about his first kiss, but he didn't have to. Not with Robin. "Camp Stronghold when I was nine. We met up in the boathouse after lights out to trade contraband."

"Contraband, huh?" Robin raised her brows.

"Candy. I swear my parents loaded me up like I was going to prison. 'This is as good as cash in there, Steven.' I think my dad wanted me to network or something. Because, you know, I was totally gonna start a small business with a group of eight-year-olds."

Robin snickered. "And the kiss?"

"Ah. I didn't actually want candy. I just wanted this kid to like me so bad, and I didn't know why until we were there in the dark tripping into each other because we couldn't see. I had all these butterflies, and we were standing close enough that I could feel the heat off his sunburn in the air." Steve could still picture it. The way he couldn't see more than a few inches in front of his face. "Then he kissed me, just this quick peck on the lips before he turned tail and ran. I left the boathouse with a Snickers and one massive first crush."

"Did anything else happen?" Robin asked.

"No. It was the last week of camp and I think he freaked himself out over it. I don't know. He didn't even really say bye to me after we climbed off the bus to meet our parents. Never saw him again. I honestly never even thought to get his name."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. I just hope he's doing okay, you know? That he's got people in his life that make him feel like he's allowed."

Robin looked at him softly, reaching out to give his ankle a squeeze. "Hey, you never know. You might run into him again someday. Maybe he's your soulmate or something."

"Please. I think you're pretty obviously my soulmate." Steve nudged Robin with his foot. "But I guess he could settle for 2nd place."

"Oh, there's a toast for sure." Snacks tumbling off her lap, Robin reached for her can of Coke on the coffee table and raised it as high as she could reach. "To both of us finding our 2nd places."

"Cheers to that." Steve thrust his own Coke into the air.

____

It felt like a big cosmic joke that Steve would be in a boathouse when he realized who Eddie Munson had been all that time. Eddie had looked so different when he'd transferred into Hawkins that Steve had never even given him a second look, not during their shared classes, not during any of those cafeteria tirades. Not during the numerous occasions where he gave the kids rides to D&D.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait!"

It was the eyes that finally pulled back the curtain and cut away all those in-between years. Steve had never been close enough to clock them, but he couldn't deny them now. Not at such close range, Eddie holding a broken bottle against his neck, trembling with so much fear that Steve worried he might actually use it.

Dropping the oar from his own shaking hands, Steve said the only thing he could think to say.

"Well, this brings back memories."

Eddie didn't respond, the fear in the air drawing out every second, making it feel infinite. Behind them and in another universe, Dustin said a bunch of stuff Steve barely heard for the pounding in his ears. He watched beads of sweat roll down Eddie's forehead and waited for something to give.

Like clouds fat with rain, Eddie finally broke open, tension draining out of him, arm and weapon dropping to his side. He exhaled a shaky breath, maintaining eye contact, his expression too complicated for Steve to fully read.

Steve was about to say something else when Eddie finally spoke, cocking his head to the side and leveling Steve with a look.

"And here I spent all these years thinking you forgot."

#steddie #ficlet #mine #long post #first kisses

[glow-worms-are-believers]

Always room for seconds (dp x dc)

"There they go again," says Aunt Alicia as she looks at the hazmat-clad backs of her sister and her husband jumping into their mish-mash-of-a-van. "And on Thanksgiving too," she finishes to herself as she turns toward her niece and nephew. Neither of them look surprised, though Jazz is clearly more affected if the tick in her jaw is any indication.

"They promised," she practically spits but Danny just sighs and puts a hand on her shoulder. It seems to draw the fight out of Jazz a bit and she sags onto herself.

Alicia loves her sister but she can be so irresponsible sometimes.

"Come on kids, let's go back inside. It's about time to put the turk-" she stops short, then groans. Maddie had insisted on bringing the turkey on account of not wanting Alicia to go to all the trouble, and Alicia had agreed on the condition that her sister wouldn't try to make it. "...And the turkey is still in the van isn't it?"

Danny makes a face. "It's probably for the best. I'm pretty sure I saw it move on the way here."

Alicia doesn't let her head fall into her hands, but only just. Instead, she takes a deep breath to calm herself down to rally her thoughts. "Alright. It'll be too late by the time we drive to town and buy a new raw one, so we can just get some already made from the store. That good for you guys?"

Jazz and Danny make sounds of assent before all three of them pile up in the car. Town isn't too far away, and the trip is mostly silent. Alicia is hesitating over what to say to cheer up her niece and nephew. In the end, they pull up to the grocery store before she manages to come up with anything.

"Dad was also supposed to bring desert," Jazz mentions as she grabs a caddie and wheels it back to them.

"I made apple pie just in case," Alicia answers. Despite her dislike for him, she can admit that Jack Fenton is a generous man. However, as she has learned over the years, that generosity doesn't extend to fudge. Which is why she's got her famous apple pie ready to pop into the oven.

Danny nods relieved, as he files in behind his sister. The three of them are rolling past the frozen section when a familiar voice cuts through the store music.

"Alicia?"

At that, Alicia looks up to see the face of one and only Martha Kent. Her lips stretch into a smile unconsciously at the sight.

"Martha, hi," she answers as the other woman starts walking closer. "How are you?"

"I'm good," the other woman says as she stops in front of them. "Just doing some last-minute shopping." Then Martha looks to Danny and Jazz and gives them a smile. "And who might these two be?"

"This is Jazz and Danny," Alicia introduces them, "my niece and nephew. They're spending Thanksgiving up at the cabin with me."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Martha says sincerely. "You left your sister and her husband in charge of the turkey, then?" She winks.

Alicia winces. "Ah, not exactly."

"They had a work emergency," Jazz says, unhappy.

Martha lets out a sympathetic oh.

"That's why we're here," Alicia explains. "They left with the turkey without realizing, so we'll have to settle for store-bought this year."

Martha makes a noise of sympathy before her face shifts into something more pensive. "You know," she starts. "I've got a big turkey at home and there's only going to be my son and me to eat it. If you guys would like, we'd love to have you over to help us with it."

"Oh we couldn't possibly-" Alicia starts to protest but Martha takes a step forward and takes her hands.

"You'd be doing us a favour," Martha says, her hands still into Alicia's as she looks up earnestly at the redhead. And damn it all because Alicia can feel a blush spreading on her cheeks at that.

"Alright," Alicia says, too flustered to argue.

Martha squeezes her hands once before letting go and Alicia can't help but miss the warmth of them. "Then it's settled."

"Alright," repeats Alicia. "We'll have to swing back home, though. I made pie."

"That's wonderful!" Martha's smile is radiant and it makes something in Alicia's chest warm.

She disguises it with a cough before speaking up. "Is six thirty too early for you?"

"It's perfect. We'll be waiting for you then," Martha says. "And for your sister and her husband too, if they manage to tear themselves away from work."

"That's not likely," mumbles Danny under his breath. Uncharacteristically, Jazz doesn't say anything about her brother's manners, only putting her own hand on his shoulder. Martha catches Alicia's eye and they exchange a look.

"Well, we'll be glad to have you three, anywho," Martha states firmly which gets her a hesitant smile from Jazz.

Alicia clears her throat. "We'd better get going if we want to be ready in time."

"Oh yes," Martha agrees. "I have to make sure the turkey's not burning." Then she winks, and for some reason, Alicia can feel that pesky blush coming back. It's made worse by the shrewd look Jazz gives her.

"See you soon!" says Martha as she leaves.

"Bye," Alicia answers back a little weakly. Then she looks down to the ground and sighs. When she straightens her head, she's immediately on guard as she catches her niece's smug look.

"What?" Alicia asks warily.

"Is Martha single?" Jazz asks, with a butter-wouldn't-melt-in-her-mouth face.

"Yeah," the older redhead answers slowly. "Why?"

"Just wanted to know," Jazz says innocently. And even Danny is looking at his sister suspiciously now. "since you've got a crush on her and all."

"I do no-I don't know what you're talking about!" Alicia protests though she feels her cheeks warming for the third time today.

And now Danny is starting to smirk too as he exchanges a look with his sister. "Oh," he starts as he looks towards Martha's disappearing figure. "This is going to be fun."

#I know Alicia is supposed to live in Arkansas and not Kansas but let's pretend I can't read #Johnatan Kent is dead in this one (sorry Mr. Kent) #Jazz and Danny playing matchmaker for their aunt #Clark jumping in once he catches on to what they're doing #Alicia (dp) x Martha Kent #That is one ship I'd never thought I'd write #anyone has an idea for a name for this ship? #Alicia (dp) #martha kent #dc x dp #dp x dc #roxpox #roxpoxwrote

[bet-on-me-13]

Lois Lane is actually Ellie Phantom

Idea came from a comment @ourrechte-blog made on This post

So, back when Ellie was traveling the world, she saw quite a few things that she really didn't like. War Crimes, Humans Rights Violations, Poverty, etc.

And she really wanted to draw some attention to those problems, but she knew that as some random kid those stories would never receive the press they deserved. So she decided to Become the press instead.

She went back to Danny, who was also on the run, and they both got new Identities. Danny became Sam "Daniel" Lane, and Ellie became Lois "Ellie" Lane. (Also she reverted to her true age, so the ages matched up)

Ellie, now Lois, began to go to School so she could establish her new identity. Eventually, she managed to get to College, Graduated, and got a Job at the biggest newpaper she could, the Daily Planet.

She was now living her best life. She was a credited reporter, her dad was a Military General, and she was spreading the word about all the problems in the world that often got overlooked.

Then, one day, Lois met a really nice guy named Clark Kent. He was such a sweetheart, and had such a kind personality. She was immediately smitten.

Even Danny liked him, and Danny barely liked anyone for fear of them hurting his daughter.

And it got even better when she figured out that he was Superman, a Superhero just like her dad used to be. She proved it when she jumped off of the roof of the Daily Planet and he caught her. (She was never in danger, she can fly too. But she did decide that even if he wasn't superman, she trusted him enough to tell him that she had powers)

They got married, and one day Clark came home looking disturbed about something.

Apparently he just found out that a company called Cadmus had tried to Clone him.

She was not happy when he told her that he didn't want to accept the kid.

"Clark. So help me Ancients, if you left that poor boy alone and rejected him after he did nothing wrong I am going to string you up by your toenails and let my Uncle Fright go to town on you with his Magic Sword!"

"I-I know what I did was wrong honey, but why are you so angry about it?!"

"Clark, I'm also a Clone! You know I don't have a Mom, how did you never ask my dad or me about that!?"

"I thought he was dead or something! I'm sorry!"

"We'll talk about this later, let's go talk to that poor kid."

"Yes ma'am."

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Dc #Dcu #Danny Phantom #Ellie Phantom #Danielle Phantom #Dani Phantom #Lois Lane #Clark Kent #Ellie/Lois is mad at her husband #How could he leave that poor defenseless boy alone like that? #He would be sleeping on the couch for months! #Conner is adopted by Ellie/Lois instantly #No Clone Baby is going to be abandoned on her watch!!! #Danny is so proud #Less so about Clark but they can work on that #Danny became a general so he could take down the GIW from the inside #He succeeded #He chose Sam as his new name to either annoy Sam or honor her #Maybe both

[sarahghetti]

moving day; m.k.

pairing: marc spector x reader, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: how marc and steven learn to live together, how you come to live with them, and how jake finally lets himself live at all.

warnings: basically a BIG character study into our boys, fluff, hurt and comfort, angst, insecurity, mentions of marc's childhood, mentions of violence, suggestive content but nothing explicit.

word count: 9.9k

notes: this one got away from me and might also be the best thing I've ever written (i'm very proud of it 😭). part of the @MOONKNIGHT-EVENTS bingo! prompt: “'is that my shirt?'”

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

Even though it was (and still is) under Marc’s name, the flat was Steven’s first. Marc just helped set it up a little.

He rented out the first decent unit he found in the city and kept every piece of mismatched furniture the previous tenant left behind. The essentials had to be filled in himself—a bed, couch, and desk. A table to go with that rickety stool to eat meals on, a coat rack near the doorway. The only belongings of his own that Marc left behind were his old Egyptology texts, unceremoniously shoved into a corner of one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that he hoped Steven would like.

(The fish was unexpected, though. Steven already had everything he would need, and it was Marc’s mistake to be scrolling through Facebook Marketplace on one of his last days before he handed it all over to his alter. A complete aquarium set was being offered for next to nothing; attached: a photo of the original poster’s late goldfish. Backlit from the tank light, blank faced and innocent.

He just couldn’t move on.)

But it was Steven who then took Marc’s—their—card and ran with it. Every free surface was prime real estate for another journal, another tomb. The used bookstores of London never stood a chance; it was almost impressive to watch him scour the shelves for the most esoteric topics and still come out with his arms full of what he was looking for. Marc would wake up in the body to find Steven’s collection a little bigger than before and ghost his fingers over the spines during those brief moments of respite before having to put on the suit.

It didn’t stop at the books. Of course, it didn’t. Steven’s always had an affinity for oddities. Marc wasn’t the least bit surprised to see the new paper lantern hung over the living room, or the pumpkin-esque footstool that was coloured as though it was plucked off the vine just a tad too early.

The pieces were quaint at best. If there were any psychological meaning as to why his alter gravitated towards dingy, threadbare upholstery instead of an IKEA like a normal person, it was beyond Marc.

However, he couldn’t not admit that it all kind of worked once put together; the clashing mix of materials and colours sort of became its own style when combined under the wooden rafters. Even when the books started overfilling the storage capacity and ended up in piles on the floor—it only added to the charm.

Marc was sure to erase every trace of his presence around the flat to avoid interfering with Steven’s life, but that didn’t stop the sense of longing to return to their—Steven’s—home during missions.

It was still a mess. A mess where everything has its place, yes, but there was no way that Steven could trip over several odds-and-ends in one day and claim that he was any degree of neat or tidy. Marc silently griped to himself about it all the time, but he’d sooner eat that dusty-ass rug Steven got for free before he saw anything get thrown away.

(It was like this back when they were kids, too. Marc’s childhood bedroom in Chicago—a room he never finds himself thinking about outside of his nightmares—was filled with joy. Medals from peewee baseball. Posters from his favourite movies, carefully smoothened out and taped to the walls by his dad. Drawings by him and Randall piled at the corner of his desk.

Right after the—the accident, all his stuff remained, immortalized in place. As if keeping everything the same would somehow also make Marc’s life the same as it was before, and Randall would come bursting through his door at any moment to ask him to come play. It was an overarching belief in their household. Even on her worst days, his mother’s anger never touched their home. Only him.

But then things began to change. His old action figures, collecting dust, would be strewn about the floor, waiting for someone to continue the battle. A collection of particularly smooth rocks began appearing on his windowsill despite the fact that he hadn’t gone outside in days. He’d wake up to grass-stained jeans and a scraped knee which Marc didn’t know how he got, for once.

Steven has always been like a crow, bringing all these little gifts for Marc to enjoy—these signs of life—even when he wasn’t aware of it.)

-

Coming back from Cairo feels like it should’ve been a bigger deal than it was, but after the dust settled on Harrow and Layla decided to return stateside alone—a decision that seemed a long time coming, if Steven’s being honest—there was nothing else to do other than to go home.

They have one blissful, uninterrupted day of sleep. Steven was the one to wake up sixteen hours later, mouth dry, and instinctively panicked at the thought of losing days again before realizing that Marc was also (and still is) out cold.

When he finally woke up a few hours later, half-asleep even in the reflection of the mirror, Steven couldn’t help himself from asking, “What now, Marc?”

Because Marc was the original. Marc was the one with a real life and legal status. He might never want to walk the streets of Chicago again, but that didn’t change the fact that he only came overseas to run away. Everything around them was a temporary measure.

Marc straightens. “I won’t bother you too much, I promise.”

“You still have your own life,” Steven reminds him.

“Still—”

“Oh, don’t start—”

At least they agreed on one thing: they were going to stay in London.

Marc cleans out his storage unit, bringing home an array of bins and duffel bags and that shitty fold-up cot that he still refuses to toss. Steven immediately got him his own dresser when Marc tried to insist that he ‘didn’t have much’; that was a blaring warning that he was about to do something stupid and sacrificial, and Steven had to put his foot down before a nearby charity got a donation of some well-loved button-downs.

It’s almost funny, how predicable Marc was when unpacking. Steven watched as he pushed all their new furniture against the walls then methodically unpacked bin by bin, stacking the empties inside one another like Russian dolls. Like Steven, everything he owned had a place, even after months spent stored away. Marc was just a lot more neat about it.

“Move my stuff if you want,” Steven pipes up. Marc doesn’t react, only continuing to store his notebooks on top of a filing cabinet. “Really, I’ve already read everything on that middle shelf there—we can put them somewhere else.”

Marc glances around the bookshelves. “Aren’t these alphabetized?”

“Well, mostly, but give me an hour or two and I’ll free up some space.”

It’s like a puzzle, and Steven’s always liked puzzles. Marc’s gone quiet in their head, out of excuses as to why he can just shove all his belongings out-of-sight so that Steven wouldn’t have to go through the effort. Now, if he would just believe Steven, then he’d know that reorganizing his books was hardly any effort at all.

And even if it was—he’s been meaning to do this for a while. An alphabetized collection is great until he gets a new book, because then everything has to be shifted over, and—well. There’s a reason why there were so many books languishing on the floor.

They pass off the body like that for the rest of the day, moving things around in the flat in order to accommodate Marc. It looks no less hectic in the end, despite Marc’s best efforts to tidy up a little, but it also doesn’t look any worse, which Steven sees as a win.

There are still so many things they need to talk about. Scheduling, routines, the fact that they’re currently both out of a job—either one would be lying if they said that this new life didn’t make them a bit nervous. But when Marc finally flops down onto their bed, a movement as easy as breathing, the pieces begin to settle into place. The last of his bins have been put away. His jacket hangs beside Steven’s as if it’s always been there.

In the headspace, Steven beams. Whatever comes, however hard—they’ll face it together.

.

.

.

Somehow, Steven wakes up one day and feels great.

There are a few minutes more until his alarm goes off, but he turns it off early. The usual grogginess that accompanies him this early is completely absent, and he rolls up to a seated position without a single mental or physical protest. He feels so good, in fact, that he even considers skipping his morning cup of tea.

(He doesn’t, of course. They quickly figured out—well, Steven did, Marc already knew—that they differed in their caffeinated beverages of choice. Steven, a strong cup of Yorkshire Gold with a healthy splash of milk and a teaspoon or two of sugar. Marc, a simple drip coffee, black, made from the most generic-looking brand of medium roast beans.

Not to say that he wishes to be separate from Marc or anything of the sort, but Steven imagines his feelings to be like that of a sibling who was always dressed in matching clothes as his brother. Marc might’ve graced Steven with an interest in Egyptology from his mercenary work and Gus from his—their?—brother’s drawing a lifetime ago, but as far as they know, his preference for tea was just a quirk.

Steven likes having something just for him.)

Marc had the body last night—he must’ve gone to bed early. Must’ve drank camomile tea and avoided blue light the entire time he was fronting because Steven could run a marathon like this and still go into work afterwards. He’s about to ask Marc for his secret when he spots an unfamiliar rumple of fabric on the pillow where he laid his head.

“What’s this now?” Steven murmurs, gathering the soft material in his hands. A woman’s sweater, obviously, with its feminine cut and style and faintly sweet scent that short-circuits his brain for a moment.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize how it got inside their flat, what with how there’s a whole other person living in his head, and it would explain the strange marks he found on his neck the other day—

Heat blooms in his face and Steven nearly drops the sweater back onto the pillow in embarrassment. Distantly, he knows that he should’ve seen this coming. Marc is Marc; Steven’s witnessed the quiet confidence the man extrudes from inside their headspace and the resulting, ah, attention it attracts.

In the corner of his eye, his reflection stills. Steven doesn’t even bother turning around—just holds up the offending sweater and asks, “Fun night?”

Marc, strangely, is quiet. It’s not like he’s one to talk about his romantic pursuits, but Steven at least expected a dry comment or two. He shakes the sweater like a bag of treats until Marc scowls. “Stop that.”

“Not judging,” Steven says, “but don’t suppose you got a number? Should I make a run to the donation bin for you?”

“No.” There’s an edge to Marc’s voice, and he purses his lips when he realizes that he responded a little too fast; Steven’s questioning look is pointedly ignored. “Just leave it on my desk for now.”

“Is she coming back or is this just like a—” Steven makes an ambiguous gesture, full of innuendo “—thing for you?”

“What? No—what?”

“Okay, okay,” Steven finally lets up because the groove between his alter’s eyebrows has become something fierce. He slips out of bed to place the sweater on Marc’s desk as requested, then throws one more comment over his shoulder for good measure, “Bring her home for dinner one day, would you?”

“Steven!”

-

“Is that my shirt?” You move towards the armchair, a smile tugging at your lips as you pick up the folded garment. It’s been freshly laundered. Marc wouldn’t burden you if he could help it.

“Mhm.” He doesn’t stir from his seat on the couch, tracking your movements with fondness in his eyes. You’ve been to their place plenty over the past few months and quietly, he relishes in the domesticity.

They’re simple things, like knowing your preferred spoon in their drawer or how you like your toast; the ease in which you curl into the cushions next to him—your spot, he can’t help but note—draws a contented little sigh from him.

“You know, if you want me to do your laundry, you can just ask.”

He would. Steven would prod endlessly as he does with all things related to you, but Marc’s managed to get this far with vague explanations and stubborn hand-waving. He’d endure the nosiness if it were for you.

“Although,” he continues, giving you a once-over. His eyebrow quirks at the familiar cotton long-sleeve enveloping your torso. “I’m not even sure you have laundry anymore.”

“Well, maybe if your clothes weren’t so comfortable, I’d stop stealing them,” you tease.

(His clothes aren’t boring, Steven, just—utilitarian. Between Khonshu and his mercenary work, Marc needed plain, flexible pieces; ones that made him blend in anywhere and ready for anything. Nothing that he could get too attached too, either. Everything he wore was at risk of getting ruined by grime and/or blood and/or tearing from various weapons. Of course, he doesn’t own anything ‘nice.’

Not like Steven. Not with his hodgepodge closet filled with colours and patterns, everything just a tad too large on their frame. Marc groans about it every time he takes over in the middle of the day—just a size down, just one. But the issue is that Steven likes it like that, likes the comfort and roominess he finds in his thrifted pieces, and so Marc dropped it as a serious topic, even though he still doesn’t quite get it.)

“This why you had to wear my jacket the other day?”

Steven’s sudden appearances don’t phase Marc anymore, even when you’re around. He just gives him a slight nod without missing a beat. “At this rate, I won’t have any clothes left for you to take.”

“Guess I’ll just have to borrow something from Steven then, hm?”

Before Marc can even begin to think about what to say to that— “I think my white jumper would suit her really well.”

He shoots a glare into a nearby mirror and just barely catches a glimpse of Steven’s grin in the reflection. Part of him wants to tell Steven to stop hitting on his girlfriend, but hesitates when you look at him expectantly, still waiting for his response.

He’s not ashamed of Steven, far from it. Still, a sliver of self-consciousness worms its way into his chest at the thought of talking to him in front of you. He’s done it before, but—he knows how it can look.

You’re more perceptive than he’d like. Marc sees the moment when it clicks in your head. “Is he here right now?”

Excitement bleeds into your voice. You’ve been wanting to meet Steven for a while. Marc showing up to a date with tousled curls and a colourfully-printed button-up instead of his usual streamlined style, a slew of scribbled papers piled onto the armchair you like to lounge on, a sticky note left on one of your books (‘oooh good choice! x’)—all these things that sent panic strumming through his veins were only ever endearing to you, for some reason. It’s lessened his worry by orders of magnitude.

Still. Letting you meet Steven is one step closer to talking about his childhood. His mom. His brother. He’s given you a high- high-level view of things (“It wasn’t great.”), but the thought of going any further makes his throat tighten. There’s a whole failed marriage that proves his inability to be vulnerable.

So, it must truly be a bout of madness that makes him say, “The white one.”

“What?”

“What?”

“The white sweater,” Marc continues, because he’s already thrown himself off the bridge—there’s no use trying to backtrack now. “He says you’d look good in his white sweater.”

Your face slowly morphs into an expression of pure joy; you do nothing short of jump off the couch to bolt to their bedroom. Steven chatters excitedly in his ear, only pausing momentarily when you slip off Marc’s shirt.

“Oh! Um! She’s—she’s very—wow—" Marc feels the strangest urge to punch himself in the face again—

—And then you reappear into their field of view, a dream in fine knit. Steven’s sweater be damned, your beaming smile is more than enough to render them both speechless.

“How do I look?”

The sweater isn’t his, but it stirs the same syrupy feelings in Marc anyway. You’ve spoken about it before—and him privately with Steven—where Steven stands in your relationship with Marc. All he’s ever let himself hope for was for you and Steven to be cordial, maybe even friends. Of course, he’d have to actually let you guys speak to each other for any of that to be possible, but you two seem to have grown comfortable with each other regardless.

Now, he sees you in Steven’s clothes and his thoughts run rampant. Ours. He tests out the word and his heart skips a beat. It’s always been a possibility; one you all were open to if it ever happened. But he could never ask either of you to try to love each other on his behalf.

God, that word does something stupid to his brain—Steven’s rattling off compliments and other things of his you should try on and invites to go thrifting—and Marc just sits there, dumbfounded by his own hypothetical scenario. “Come on, Marc, say something!”

You move to stand in front of him, and his thighs part automatically to have you close. It takes your hand on his cheek, gentle as you stroke your thumb over his skin, to pull him back to reality. “You okay?”

“You look incredible.” His voice dips in the way he knowsmakes your stomach swoop, and is promptly rewarded with your flustered smile. The moment doesn’t last—not with Steven cooing in his ear over you.

A pang of possessiveness runs through Marc. That smile was for him, thank you very much.

His mouth works faster than his brain. “Steven has something to tell you.”

You light up. “Really?”

“Wants to tell you himself, actually.”

Steven splutters, nerves coming on in full force. Marc bites his tongue to keep a straight face. “Well, now, hang on a minute—”

Steven’s introduction was always going to be a well-thought-out but casual event, as to not make a circus out of it. It was just who they were, after all. They wouldn’t switch in front of you—Steven would change into his wardrobe and ‘do’ his hair beforehand; Marc worried it might be too much for you to see him but hear Steven. He would’ve prepped you both plenty in the preceding days, regardless of how necessary it was.

It definitely would not be the stunt he’s pulling right now.

Your eyes narrow at the placid look on his face, too casual to not be suspicious, but meeting Steven must outweigh the want to catch Marc in the act of whatever he’s planning because you don’t call him out, hands frozen on his face. It’s cute, watching you struggle between overt enthusiasm and not wanting to pressure them into anything.

Marc would even enjoy it a little longer if it weren’t for the confused and alarmed word vomit spilling out in his head.

“Stop messing about—I mean, it’s not—not odd, yeah? For me to front a little? Just a little chat, can’t be all that bad. Please be messing with me, but I can do it, s’not a big deal. Yeah, yeah, it’s whatever—oh, boy."

Taking pity on the poor guy, Marc quiets him with a steady glance into the mirror. “You sure, buddy?”

Slightly shrill but no less serious, “Are you sure, Marc?”

And then Marc’s fun little charade teeters on its head—is he ready for this? You and Steven wouldn’t hold it against him if he pulled the plug on it all right now, but this is the closest he’s ever gotten. The band-aid has to come off, lest he lets this fester for the length of another relationship.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his flare of panic comforted by the patience in your eyes. More confidently this time, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Steven’s smile is clear in his voice. It mirrors your own.

“About time, innit?”

-

Moving into their flat isn’t a decision you make all at once, but rather a slow, steady conclusion that you’ve been unintentionally working towards ever since you first visited.

The clothes were just the start. It’s not like you didn’t have perfectly good clothes before you met Marc, but his were just better somehow. Soft and simple, all in that neutral colour scheme he seemed to gravitate towards. The warm, woodsy scent of his aftershave clings to the fabric, making you want to bury your nose into the garments and go right back to the source—

You just couldn’t help yourself from borrowing something whenever you came over.

(That pleased, half-lidded gaze you receive each time you slip on his shirt, or his heated touch whenever he drapes his jacket over your shoulders during chilly morning afters—well. Those are just a bonus.)

So, maybe you left a shirt or two behind in the process. And maybe you realized that you should probably have a pair of sweatpants there as well, and a good book to read during quiet nights in. Once, you forgot your toothbrush only for Marc to pull out an extra from their medicine cabinet; now you have a toothbrush in their bathroom.

After you finally met Steven and his adorable, eclectic self—all bets were off. You bond while scouring vintage shops and finding new pieces for the flat. A little basket of throw blankets gets added to the living room (always neatly sorted by Marc, without fail). Candles—tall and stout, festive and fruity and spiced—start to litter the shelves. A particularly good haul at a used bookstore, a bit heavy for you to carry home, is instead slotted amongst their collection; the contemporary fonts and colourful covers are a stark contrast against the yellowing older texts, and you love it.

Your fingerprints are all over the place by the time Marc officially empties some space in his dresser for you, uncharacteristically avoiding your eyes as he speaks, “Just in case you wanted to keep some more stuff here.”

You were already using their closets before then (in both the storing-your-clothes sense and the stealing-their-clothes sense); you’ve practically taken over one of his drawers. But to give you one outright, to admit that he’s carved out some space just for you instead of silently accommodating your things as he always has—

“Thank you, Marc,” you whisper, brimming with emotion that you wonder if you’ll ever be able to fully express. He’ll flit about and clean and care for you because words will never capture the depth of his feelings. You see this for what it is, like all the gestures that have come before: a declaration.

“Thank you,” you repeat, and press a soft kiss onto the corner of his mouth. “I love you, too.”

It’s not much long after when Steven comes home from work grinning like a madman, one hand held behind his back. He beelines towards you, not even bothering to put his bag down.

“Hey, you.” You peck his lips and feel his smile stretch impossibly wider. “What’s got you all riled up?”

The words come out in a rush. “Havesomethingforyou.”

“Oh?”

“Close your eyes.” You can’t help but laugh a little as you follow the direction; Steven’s excitement is utterly infectious. “Okay, now hold out your hand.”

“If you give me a bug, I swear to God—”

“I would never.” His seriousness is a bit too heavy-handed, and you get a feeling you’re going to need to be on guard for a while.

You’re distracted, however, by the brush of his skin as he places something small and rigid into your palm. The metal is warm from being clasped inside his hand, but the shape is so familiar that you recognize what it is immediately.

“You can open—”

You’re already looking down—at the silver key to the flat nestled in your hand. Lonesome without the Koala plushie on Steven’s keyring, without the little charm you got for Marc’s—no, it’s meant to be your copy.

“We were thinking, right,” he starts before your heart has the opportunity to beat right out your chest, “Marc and I—well, you’re here with us most of the time. You should have your own key. Beats having to come grab mine from the museum, right?”

You let out a choked little laugh, too caught up to remind him that the only reason why you went to the museum was because else he would’ve dropped everything to deliver the keys himself. Spent his entire break and then some to commute back home so that you wouldn’t have to wait for his shift to be over, even though you could’ve amused yourself just fine outside until then.

“Yeah,” is all you manage to get out before stepping forward, burying your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around his torso. Steven’s love is unbridled; he holds you close, going on about how glad he is—how glad they both are—to have you, how he was practically bouncing off the walls at the locksmith, waiting for the key to be cut.

They’ve been your home for so long now that while the new addition onto your keyring makes you giddy and smile stupidly whenever you get to use it, it also just feels right. You go grocery shopping with Marc and watch him scrutinize apples like they personally offended him. Steven tangles your legs together as you wind down in the evenings, and always always smiles whenever he catches you looking at him. You rank the restaurants around the neighbourhood and line your favourite mugs beside each other on the shelf; you sit in the comforting quiet of the flat and wonder how you got so lucky.

When it’s eventually time to renew your lease, there’s no decision to be made. You’re relieved from dinner prep to write the email to your landlord on their couch. It’s sent off with no fanfare and quickly forgotten about when Marc’s voice rings out, asking what you want to eat.

“Anything,” you say, the ghost of a smile on your lips; he hates it when you say that. Marc grumbles a little, but you mean it this time. You have them and they have you. Curled up in one of Steven’s sweaters, Marc’s playlist on low in the background—anything is just fine by you.

.

.

.

You are the bane of Jake’s existence.

First, you meet Marc. Terrible. Khonshu is riding his ass about a mission in Liverpool—they’ve now been geolocked to stay under the radar—and Marc plans a date. An actual, Godforsaken date with a set time, throwing a wrench into their plans because Steven’s been scheduled to work on the surrounding days as well. How is he supposed to sneak off to the other side of the country now?

Even worse, you stick around. There are more dates between the two of you. For how much he hates texting, Marc responds promptly whenever you send him something. He frets over what to wear before picking you up. You stay over at the flat and he holds you in his sleep like he’s afraid you’ll disappear; Jake has been unluckily enough to wake up in the middle of the night, planning to slip away, only to be hit with the scent of your shampoo in his nose.

Then—and then—Marc has the bright idea to introduce you to Steven. The hope that this is just a casual, temporary thing is dashed away the second Jake sees that lovesick expression on the idiota. It’s more overt than Marc’s, but still the same blaring warning sign that Jake’s life is only about to get harder from here.

Keeping a low profile has become incredibly difficult since the others decided to be normal. Marc never questioned whenever Jake took over in a tight spot, too hyped up on adrenaline and too stubborn about their condition to follow up on his blackouts after the fight was done. Steven was clueless about everything for those first few months, then just blamed his blackouts on Marc.

But now? They talk to each other. They have a year-long calendar on the fridge with a magnetic pen holder to keep track of their schedules, colour-coded blue (for Marc) and green (for Steven). They’ve gotten distracted and added another consciousness for Jake to deceive in order to do his thing. He can’t take the body for more than a few hours, and certainly not by force, without drawing suspicion.

Jake’s happy for them. Really, he is. They’ve finally begun to move on from the trauma of their childhood into something that resembles a normal life. Steven’s gotten rehired at the museum as a tour guide. Marc’s taken up security consulting. And despite their respective anxiousness and ten-foot-walls, you bring them peace.

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s Khonshu’s avatar now. That a lifetime ago, when the work began to wear down on Marc in all the worst ways, Jake was the one who cut a deal with the god for his release. All he had to do was take his place.

(Foresight might not be his strong suit, but he refuses to take responsibility for what happened next. He could never have imagined all the puppetry that’d occur with Layla in the mix, or that they’d actually divorce one of these days and end up with someone new.

Except this time, you know about their system and not about Khonshu. He wonders how well you’d take that whole mess.)

In short—Marc and Steven still need him. He can’t just up and disappear into the recesses of their mind; he has a job to do.

So, when Steven presses that fucking key into your hand, Jake’s so frustrated he could scream. Unfettered access to the flat—as if you weren’t there enough already. As if he weren’t already jumping through every hoop imaginable, just to keep his existence a secret. He would’ve made them drop the copy down the nearest gutter on the way home if he didn’t know that they would simply go right back to the locksmith and ask for another.

Steven watches as you slip it onto your keychain; that all-encompassing, vibrant burst of joy in their chest be damned—you are the worst thing to ever happen to Jake, even if you might be the best thing to ever happen to them.

-

Steven had the flat, Marc had his storage unit, and Jake?

Jake has his car.

Multiple, actually, but the limousine is the legal one (thanks for your identity, Marc) and serves as his homebase. Supplies are stashed in compartments around the cabin—weapons, clothes, cash—and with its heavily tinted windows, he can do anything he wants inside and passersby would be none the wiser. When Khonshu’s booming voice echoes around his brain about some new target, at least Jake can recline into a soft leather seat.

The only issue is that he can’t keep everything there. No, the parking garage is a fair distance away from the flat and sometimes, he doesn’t have the opportunity to make the trip before setting off. This means that he has to keep a change of clothes in the flat to avoid accidentally ruining some of Steven’s or Marc’s. He’d never actually wear anything of Steven’s to begin with (at least, not on a mission), but Marc’s wardrobe is minimal by choice—if something went missing or got a new, unexplained hole in it, he’d notice.

That’s why Jake is currently slinking through their living room, ready to change back into Steven’s pajamas before hiding his clothes on the loft above their bed. Nothing up there but empty bins and poster tubes. Marc regularly dusts the area during his monthly deep cleans, so Jake doesn’t even have to worry about leaving behind any tracks.

It was an easy job tonight, done in little less than an hour and not a speck on Jake to show for it. He could take a shower if he wanted—you’re staying over at a friend’s place right now, as noted in red on the calendar. But he shouldn’t keep the body for longer than necessary; they still need sleep, after all.

He slips off his flat cap, groaning as he runs a hand through his hair. God, they’re getting old. Even this stolen hour will be felt by whoever wakes up in the morning, slightly slower and groggier than usual.

(Jake doesn’t think about the future—has never needed to. The only future that exists to him is the next minute, and the minute after that, and what he has to do to ensure the body makes it there. Him and Marc were similar in that aspect for a long, long time.

That calendar on the fridge, while helpful to his vigilantism, stirs something uncomfortable in his gut. He’s seen them flip through the months to mark down birthdays and reservations. Vacations, work events—Marc’s going on a completely normal, non-violent work trip, which Jake still can’t quite wrap his head around—and it’s all so far ahead.

How can they be so sure that nothing will change between now and then? That their life won’t blow up again, and force them on the run? Everything they add is just another handful of salt to be pressed into the wound when it all goes to hell. But they still write things on that stupid calendar. Confident, excited even, about the plans they think will come to pass.

How do they know?)

There’s a rustling in the bedroom.

Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck—

“Marc?”

You shift a little under the covers, trying to peer at him through the darkness. Jake’s never been more grateful for Marc’s sensible taste in fashion; with only a silhouette to go by, of course you’d mistake him for Marc—straight-cut jeans, a collared jacket. His flat cap would tip you off though, and he presses it into his chest to hide it from your line of sight. Marc would never wear a flat cap.

He forces a casual tone. “Hm?”

A small sigh of relief escapes you as your head falls back onto the pillow. Still watching him, though, you mumble, “Bad dream?”

You know about Marc’s time in the military and as a mercenary. Not everything, obviously, but enough. Jake nods, and can imagine the worried purse of your lips in the shadows. In the best impression he can manage, his accent turns Chicagoan. “Just had to take a walk.”

If he were really Marc, he’d already be in bed by now, letting you brush curls away from his face and press a kiss against the furrow of his brow. If he were really Marc, he’d ask you why you were back here instead of with your friends as expected, and you’d talk things out until dozing off in a tangle of limbs, comforted by each other’s presence.

But Jake’s not Marc. He brushes off the subtle tightening of his chest as just a lingering remnant from his alters. The body knows you, even if Jake doesn’t. It doesn’t mean anything to him.

You whine, a sleepy and pitiful but inviting noise from the back of your throat as he continues to stand in the living room. Alarm bells go off in his head; he has to placate you before you get up and try to drag him over yourself.

“Just need to change,” he says, soft and low, warmth injected into every word. Nausea courses through him, to his own confusion, as he continues to play Marc. This should be easier—he’s been hiding for as long as he can remember. This is probably the tamest thing he’s done to keep his cover. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be there in a second, okay?”

He takes two steps towards the kitchen then stops, feigning—feigning something, fuck if he knows—waiting for your breathing to level out again. Silence falls over the flat, but Jake’s mouth runs dry.

There’s no way you don’t bring this up to them in the morning, and there’s no way they won’t immediately suspect another alter. They know he exists, have seen the aftermath of when he fronts. It’s only his secrecy that has kept them off his back for this long, and it will all come crashing down in a few hours.

For better or for worse, he’ll have to meet the others soon.

-

Marc will never tire of waking up beside you. Even though there’s a heaviness weighing him down, body aching for just a few more minutes, he pushes through because you’re already awake. With one hand on his chest, the other tracing over his jaw—the small, lazy smile on your face has already made his day.

You turned over while he was asleep, but his arm is still slung over your waist; he pulls you closer to press a kiss onto your forehead. Lips moving against your skin, “Morning, baby.”

“Morning,” you murmur. “Feel better?”

Mind hazy from sleep, Marc doesn’t question the odd wording. He just let’s himself settle into the lingering fatigue, leaning into your touch as his eyes flutter shut again. “M’tired. Stay with me a little longer?”

Concern laces your tone. “Was the dream that bad?”

That breaks through to him. He peers at you curiously, more alert than before. “What do you mean?”

You blink, confused. “Your nightmare last night. You left to take a walk?”

Marc sits up, furrowing his brow. Reality seeps in, and he checks the date on his phone. Aren’t you supposed to be—? “I thought you were staying over at a friend’s place.”

“I was going to, but she had a family emergency—I came back here around three. Don’t worry, they walked me home,” you explain with a soft pat of your hand at the end. That—that is one mystery solved, and he is glad to hear that you weren’t walking alone at night, but his shoulders remain taut with tension. His mind gets caught on a detail.

“Three?” He’s a light sleeper, he would’ve woken up when you came into bed. But—your words replay in his mind. He wasn’t here when that happened, was he? “I went on a walk?”

His stress begins to spill over to you, and you prop yourself up on an elbow, fiddling at the blankets. “Um, yeah. We spoke a little when you came back—I was already in bed, remember?”

A pit opens up in his stomach, and the words die in this throat. Marc does not, in fact, remember. He apparently went outside in the middle of the night, long enough for you to come home and settle in without him, then had a whole conversation upon return—and none of it is familiar to him. Not even a hint of déjà vu.

He throws off the covers, on his feet in seconds despite your protests. All hisblackouts, the ones he thought were finished after traversing the Duat—

That third sarcophagus—

Is this what it was like for Steven? To wake up, not knowing what your body has done, where it’s been—if it’s hurt someone?

Marc might actually puke if he thinks about it for too long. And God, you live with them now: him, Steven, and what Marc wishes was a complete unknown. But the truth is—they aren’t an unknown. No, Marc is fully aware of what this alter is capable of.

“Oh, bugger, what’s going on?” Steven must feel his panic, reflects it in kind. He must be expecting bloodshed with how fast their heart is racing.

Marc says nothing and flings open the tri-mirror on the wall, bracing himself with both hands on the sink below. He sees himself in the center, a bull primed to fight. Steven’s to the left, so fearful he’s nearly frozen still. And to the right—

To the right—

-

So. Jake hasn’t really prepared for this situation, to be honest.

He’ll face anything head-on to keep the body safe, but imagining himself as the threat? Never crossed his mind. There’s anger in their blood, and Marc’s liable to cracking the porcelain with his grip. If looks could kill, Jake would be dead ten times over.

The few times he wondered what it would be like to actually meet Marc and Steven, the worst that could happen was that they disliked him. Unfortunate, but he’d live. He didn’t need their approval to do his job.

But through the blood rushing in their ears, he can hear you; still in bed, barely breathing as you watch everything unfold. And that’s when he remembers—

You are the bane of his existence.

Because Marc and Steven aren’t just thinking about their own self-preservation. No, now they have you to protect, and the lengths that they would go to do that, well—Jake begrudgingly has to admit that they might rival some of his own efforts for them.

He’d let them stare at themselves forever in the mirror if it weren’t for that fact. They would never give up on trying to talk to him. Steven was clever enough with the sand and tape and ankle restraint; he doesn’t want to think about what sort of traps they’d create with Marc in the mix. Jake would probably still evade them all, but they’d drive themselves crazy in their attempts.

They’ve really left him no choice. For the first time, he lets himself be seen.

-

You’ve watched Marc and Steven talk to each other plenty of times. It’s really no big deal. They’re just normal conversations where you can only hear one side, and usually taken through the nearest reflective surface.

But this? This is an interrogation. Marc slackens his jaw for just a moment before everything in him tenses again. He speaks through clenched teeth, as if barely controlling the severity of his thoughts—you can’t help but brace yourself for impact. “Who are you?”

The pause as he waits for the other alter, whoever they are, to respond is maddening. It wasn’t quite fear that gripped you when you realized that it wasn’t Marc last night—to be honest, you don’t know what to feel—but the scene in front of you has you reevaluating your initial reaction.

That initial reaction being, well—the same thing you felt when you Marc told you about Steven: curiosity. You wanted to meet Steven. Almost begged for the chance near the end. Whoever this is—

“Jake.”

The name grates itself out of Marc’s throat, and you cling to the information like a life raft.

“Jake.” You can’t help but test it out on your tongue, squinting a little as you look at your boyfriend and try to see yourself calling him that. Marc looks towards you. There’s a storm of emotions in his eyes, but there’s no time to decipher any of them—a moment later, he turns back towards the mirror with a scowl.

“Why should I believe you?” The lines on his face deepen; Marc grits his teeth so hard you yearn to hold him, but you’re frozen to the spot.

“I don’t know that. After you—” his eyes dart between you and his reflection so fast, you might’ve imagined it “—after what you’ve done?”

A wave of dread washes over you.

He’s not talking about last night.

No, Marc—Marc has interacted with Jake before, and whatever happened must’ve crossed a line. Must’ve crossed several lines because of how he’s acting right now, and you want to bury yourself under the covers, still fisted tightly in your hands.

He laughs bitterly. The sound rakes through your ears. “You call that protecting us?”

Your blood runs cold. With no real context and spiked with adrenaline, your mind runs rampant with the possibilities, connects all the worst dots.

There’s no way—

“Lay a hand on her and I swear—”

You want to run and you want to hide and you want their arms around you, assuring you of—of anything. You need to leave this building and also never go outside again, because your head begins to pound with each thought that passes through.

You can still see the worry flare in Marc’s eyes when you accidentally grabbed the handle of a hot pan, the dutiful and tender way he held your hand under the tap for no less than fifteen minutes—

You can still hear Steven’s babbling when your new shoes rubbed your ankles red and raw while on a walk, distracting you from the pain the best he could until you got back home—

You are just so acutely aware of their love—that Marc and Steven would never dare hurt you. It’s impossible to reconcile your memories of them with the picture that’s being painted of Jake right now.

No. You can’t believe it.

You’re not even hearing their conversation anymore, your heartbeat is too loud. Breathing returns to you in a rush—you never even realized you stopped—and your vision swims with light-headedness.

None of it makes sense.

It—it can’t—

The mattress dips beside you, but you barely feel it. Someone’s cupping your cheeks, grounding you back into the flat, your home, and you know these hands. You know this voice, soothing in your ear, even as you shut your eyes.

They say that they’re sorry. They say that you’ll be okay.

They call you princesa.

-

It feels strange walking around the flat, knowing that he’s welcome there now.

Jake’s seen every nook and cranny through Marc and Steven, but to actually be able to explore the place himself—he’s like a kid in a toy store. He can’t help but run his fingers over everything. The spines on the bookshelves, the mismatched dishware in the cabinets. That velvet throw pillow, which you are so fond of playing with during movies—yeah, he gets it.

He’s not going to be talking to you for a while, though. After his rocky first meeting with Marc and Steven, which also coincides with the absolute worst possible first meeting with you—

It’s best to steer clear for a while.

Jake let the other two do the explaining. He watched silently as Marc told you about his past—told you about why he was discharged from the Marines and the scenes he’d wake up to after Jake had fronted—hands shaking as they held onto yours. He watched as Steven took over when it got to be too much, adding in the finer details and clarifications, steadier but no less genuine than Marc. Their arms were gentle as Steven held you in their lap, patient as you stumbled through how you felt.

“Marc seemed so mad at Jake.” You clutched at Steven’s shirt, sniffling into his neck. “I didn’t know what was happening, I—I was scared.”

No. Jake furiously shakes his head as if it would jostle the memory out of his brain. Just thinking about it threatens to unravel him, and he has to keep it together. He’s on thin ice as is.

You had been the one to temper their emotions—the sight of you panicking on their bed grinding all other issues to a halt. The conversation couldn’t continue until you were okay, and this time, Steven kept you in the loop.

Steven is wary. Steven needles him about what he’s been doing all this time, asks him what he’s going to do now with short little mhms. Steven is also the one to buy a new set of pens (because black is already used for non-individual specific events) and designates him as orange.

Marc doesn’t trust Jake at all and admits it outright. It’s—it stings more than he thought it would, but he understands. He always knew that Marc would take a while to come around, especially with you to consider—

Jake doesn’t know why he worries so much about your opinion. Protecting you is an extension of protecting the body, but he never used to care about what Marc or Steven had to say. He hates the caution in your voice when you talk about him and can’t help but appreciate you trying anyways.

He pinches himself. You’re not his to think about, period.

Acknowledging his existence also, sort of, comes with accepting it. Steven somehow finds the space for another dresser in their already cramped bedroom. Jake doesn’t even have enough possessions in general to fill that thing—not counting all the weapons and ammo that Marc would definitely have their head for if he brought them into the flat.

It’s an olive branch on both sides, though. They’re committing to having him around. He’s committing to being around, instead of lurking in the background of their lives.

His clothes only fill up the first drawer but—it’s nice. Jake stares at the thing a lot more than a used, scratched-up piece of furniture probably warrants. He can barely admit it to himself but this, all of it—going outside during the day, eating a freshly-cooked meal, even just relaxing in bed without immediately trying to go to sleep in order to Protect the Body—it really is just nice.

(Since when did he describe anything as nice?)

Then—your keys turn in the door.

.

.

.

Jake hits the eject button so fast, Steven’s probably going to get whiplash.

“Nice reflexes,” he grumbles as you enter the flat. It was funny the first few dozen times. Now? That twat’s just being a coward.

“I’m home!” You call out as Steven rounds the corner to greet you, tote bag nearly bulging in your hand. He pecks your lips as he helps you out of your jacket, then hangs it up beside the three others on the rack. “There was a little creators’ market in the park—you should’ve seen it!”

“Think I’m seeing it now,” he chuckles, moving to help you with your tote. You slink past him at the last second, grinning. “Come on, love, show us what you got!”

“They’re gifts! Just hang on.” You place the bag on the dining table and enraptured, he pulls up a stool. His head rests on his chin as he waits for you to unpack. “Okay, first, for Marc—”

You reach your hand inside and reveal a pair of black leather gloves. Not driving gloves like Jake’s—there’re far less embellishments all around. But they’re warm and flexible, perfect for colder weather. Inside, the lining is made with a material so soft that when trying one on, Steven can’t help but laugh a little in disbelief.

“Treading on my territory, pendejo?”

Marc snipes back, “Like you own a monopoly on leather gloves.”

Steven lets Marc pull to the front. An easy smile spreads on his face as he flexes his hand, testing his movement. “Thanks, baby. I really like them.”

He takes your chin into his gloved hand to thank you properly, slotting his lips against yours with no shortage of appreciation. His grip is an anchor, holding you in place as he kisses you, deep and languid. Like you have all the time in the world despite the heat flickering across his skin. When Marc gets like this, it’s not long before you start squirming under him, and your hands paw at his neck for something more.

That’s his cue to finally pull away, smirking as he traces your bottom lip with his thumb. Whether it’s the leather or him or both, he can see the effect on you, the dazed look you give him when you bat your eyes open.

Let Jake try and beat that.

“Oi! Share!”

Marc sighs. Drops his forehead to yours and reluctantly doesn’t continue any further. “Steven wants his gift now.”

“Oh,” you laugh a little, realizing the situation you’ve put yourself in. “Maybe I should’ve done Steven’s first.”

Marc steals one more kiss before retreating again, and Steven is back, clearly eager for many different reasons now. After putting Marc’s new gloves to the side, you don’t make him wait a second longer; you pull out a stunning new button-up, deep navy with a pattern of large teal palm leaves and hints of salmon accents all over.

All traces of joy disappear from Marc’s voice. “Oh, my fucking God.”

“She’s an enabler. I can’t believe it.”

Steven gapes, amazed. “How did you—”

“I had to go digging,” you admit, gesturing widely. “There were so many racks, we need to go back! I only had my one bag!”

“There’s no way people actually buy this stuff.”

“Ahh, well, it’s not that bad—"

“Are you kidding me?”

Ignoring the fashion police in his head, Steven immediately switches shirts and tosses the old one somewhere behind him. Based on Marc’s grunt, he missed the couch, but also can hardly find himself to care.

He doesn’t even bother doing up the buttons, because he knows where you’ll put your hands when he descends upon your face. Kiss after kiss on your cheeks, forehead, and nose, and soon enough you’re giggling loudly into the air. Your hands are warm against his bare torso, pulling him closer even as their stubble tickles your skin.

“Stevie—Steven! There’s one more!”

He’s not letting you off that easily, though, and finally captures your lips with his. That does buy him a few more blissful seconds until you manage to push him away; breathing heavily, you point sternly in his direction—behave.

Steven schools his expression into one of perfect obedience, teasing, but you barely even react. With one glance back down at the table, it’s like the tote bag sucked away your excitement, leaving shy uncertainty in its wake. You’re biting your lip as you reach for the last gift, quiet.

Marc hums, trying to figure out what’s wrong. Steven offers you an encouraging little smile and is about to say something when you produce the last gift in a rush, still not meeting their eyes.

It’s a simple wool scarf, colour-blocked in soft browns and greys. He waits as you fiddle with it in your hands, trying to find the words.

“He doesn’t have a scarf,” you blurt out. When Steven doesn’t respond immediately, you continue. “Jake, I mean—I don’t think he has one. I thought it would be nice.”

He follows your gaze to the coat rack near the door, filled with four sets of outerwear. It clearly doesn’t fit all the jackets owned in the household, but his favourite is hung up next to Marc’s, which is hung up beside your overcoat and Jake’s collared jacket. Various cold weather accessories are layered onto the hooks as well, multiple pairs of gloves, hats—but there are only three scarves.

Come to think of it, Steven hasn’t seen Jake ever wear a scarf either. “You’re right, love. Doesn’t his neck get cold? I know our neck gets cold.”

The corners of your mouth tug up a little and he grins, triumphant. He tunes into his head, making sure he doesn’t miss any of Jake’s reaction, but nothing comes. That’s odd. It doesn’t feel like he’s gone, more like—holding his breath.

“Think he’ll like it?” You tilt your head, though your true question is clear on your face.

The words can’t come out of Jake fast enough. “I’m not here right now.”

“Jesus, man.”

Steven huffs but covers for his alter; they’ll press him about it another time. “Once he sees it, I don’t think he’ll ever take it off.”

The gloves and scarf are added to the coat rack, which is liable to falling over one of these days due to the heavy load it’s carrying. With no shortage of complaining from Marc, Steven picks up his discarded shirt and tosses it into the laundry basket. It’s almost full—he makes a note to do a load later this week.

He must look ridiculous, parading around in an undone button-up, but you have nothing but fondness for him when he returns to cuddle with you on the couch. You’ve changed into Marc’s sweater and have to move no less than five decorative pillows in order to make enough space.

Marc makes a distressed noise when Steven throws one of them to the side. “It’s fine—”

It hits the standing lamp and you both freeze as you watch it teeter on its base, creaking ominously. After a moment, it steadies again.

“It’s only fine because of your weak throw.”

Steven splutters as he pulls you into his side. “We have the same arm!”

They bicker about the mechanics of their body, whether muscle memory crosses over when they switch or not. Marc is squarely of the opinion: No. Steven reminds him of when he punched the Jackal, and the conversation continues to devolve. Jake refrains from getting involved but spurs them on regardless with a well-placed snicker here and there.

It’s an aimless argument that has you burying your face in your hands because you’re laughing too hard; one of many that have taken place and one of many that have yet to occur.

In the morning, Marc will cook you breakfast and throw an eggshell into the bin from across the kitchen just to prove a point. Steven will go back to the market with you to buy armfuls of his favourite clothing and home goods, and he’ll add one more to his bag for every snide comment Marc makes. And Jake—

Jake will take a little while longer until he feels ready to speak to you, but you see the scarf gather raindrops and the warm, woodsy smell of their aftershave as he wears it every time he goes outside. Always see it hung up neatly on the rack, on top of his jacket so it can properly dry.

And with all four of you settled in, their cluttered little flat in London—long overflowing with books and clothes, your favourite comforts and some truly unique furniture—finally started to feel complete.

#moon knight x reader #marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #jake lockley #moon knight fanfic #my writing #mk bingo 2024

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Daddy’s Girl

Dean Winchester & daughter!reader

Synopsis: your life growing up as Dean’s daughter (ignores cannon)

You were born of Dean’s short-lived relationship with Lisa. When he was forced to leave his family behind to keep them safe, he was also forced to take you with him. He’d wanted to leave you, to keep you safe, but with Lisa and Ben’s memories wiped of him, you got wiped with him.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said as Dean held you in his arms. “There’s no way to erase you without erasing her, too.”

Despite how much Dean wanted to keep you safe, he couldn’t find it in himself to regret how things turned out.

…

Sam pursed his lips, and Dean couldn’t hold back his laugh when he spotted his brother covered in broccoli.

You started giggling when you noticed your father’s smile, but Dean clamped his mouth shut when he saw you laughing.

“Hey now,” he scolded, trying desperately to look stern despite still being able to see the broccoli in Sam’s hair. “Don’t throw food.”

“Is yucky!” You whined, kicking your feet.

Dean gave you his signature ‘dad glare’ and you gave him the puppy eyes that he was convinced Sammy taught you just to drive him nuts.

Neither of you were willing to give in, far too stubborn for anyone’s good. Finally, Sam broke the awkward silence.

“How about we try a new veggie?”

…

“What are you watching?”

Dean tore his eyes away from the screen to see Sam standing in the doorway.

“Saw, why?”

Sam scoffed, “Do you think she’s old enough for that?” He gestured to five-year-old you, curled up in your dad’s arms.

“She’s out like a light, she has no clue what’s going on,” Dean assured him.

“So what, she’s your new stuffed animal?” Sam chuckled.

“It’s called parenting, Sammy. Now shut up, you’re gonna wake her up.”

…

“Daddy, look!”

Dean rubbed his hands over his face, closing the lore book in front of him when you came bounding into the war room.

“Hey baby, what’s up?” He asked, his voice thick with exhaustion as he lifted you into his lap.

“I maked the Impala,” you grinned, showing off a pencil sketch of Baby colored in with a black crayon. “Uncle Sammy only helped a little.”

Dean could tell from the detail of the drawing that Sam helped more than a little, but he didn’t care.

“This is great!” He praised. “Baby would be so proud, looks almost as good as her.”

You giggled. “Can I hang it on the fridge?”

“I think it’d be a crime if we didn’t,” Dean insisted, standing up with you in his arms so he could carry you to the kitchen.

…

“Dad!”

Dean staggered back in surprise when ten-year-old you launched yourself into his arms the moment he stepped into the bunker.

“Hey kid,” he chuckled, but his smile dropped when he noticed your strangled breaths, and how tightly you were clinging to him. “You ok? We weren’t gone that lon-“

“Someone’s in the bunker,” you whispered, and Dean now also noticed that you were shaking.

“What?” He demanded, lowering you to the ground and grabbing his gun with one hand, keeping his other hand on your shoulder protectively.

“I-I heard footsteps,” you stammered, still trying to catch your breath. “So I ran, and-and I was looking for a place to hide when you opened the door.”

“You’re sure it was footsteps?”

“I know what I heard!” Your stammer left you when your fear turned to annoyance.

“Ok, ok,” Dean soothed. “I believe you. Now, I want you to go and hide in my room, ok? Stay there, and don’t open the door unless it’s me, understand?”

“B-but…” you glanced around nervously, unwilling to let go of your father.

“I need you to do this,” Dean said. “I need you safe, ok? You’re gonna be fine.”

You nodded, but Dean’s jacket was still clenched between your fingers.

“C’mon now, go!” Dean gave your arm a gentle push, and as soon as the two of you were no longer touching you seemed spurned into action. You ran in the other direction, headed straight for your dad’s room.

Once the door was closed and locked behind you, you immediately went to sit on Dean’s bed, your arms wrapped around your knees as you tried hard to stop your trembling.

You assured yourself over and over again that your dad would take care of it; he’d get the intruder out, and it would all be ok. When you heard footsteps echoing through the hall, your heart lifted, sure that your dad was coming to get you.

But then the doorknob jiggled as someone tried to open it. It stopped, but still no knock came, no “hey, it’s me,” from Dean; nothing.

Until with a loud bang! the door flew free of its hinges.

You scrambled back with a cry of surprise, and your hand found something hard under Dean’s pillow. You snatched it up as the intruder—a tall man with blond hair and a dark suit—stalked towards you.

You lifted the object, surprised when you saw that it was Dean’s gun.

“St-stay back!” You warned. The man hesitated for only a second before continuing his advance towards you.

“You don’t have the guts,” he scoffed. He took one more step—he was only a couple of feet away—and reached out to grab you.

The gun kicked back in your hands as you fired, and you nearly dropped it. A look of morbid shock crossed the man’s face, but it only lasted for a brief second as he slumped to the ground at the side of Dean’s bed.

Your whole body was shaking. Your hands didn’t seem able to let go of the gun. You could feel blood on your face where it had splattered.

“Sweetheart?”

Your whole body flinched at the sound of your father’s voice. He was in the center of the room—you hadn’t even noticed him come in—and his hands were held out towards you.

“Sweetheart, give me the gun.”

Your hands went limp when Dean grabbed the gun. He tossed it onto his bed, his attention never leaving your face, which was turned towards the dead man on the floor.

“Hey, Y/N, look at me,” Dean demanded. Your eyes slowly found your father’s, afraid of what you might find there. But there was no anger, or judgment, not even surprise. There was only comfort, maybe a little worry.

“Let’s go,” Dean said, lifting you into his arms. When he saw you staring at the dead man, he cradled the back of your head in his hand and pushed your face against his shoulder as he carried you out of the room.

“I killed him.”

Your voice came out muffled against Dean’s shirt, and Dean’s heart constricted at the quaver in your voice.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he soothed, subconsciously rocking you in his arms like he used to do when you could barely crawl. “He was gonna hurt you, you defended yourself. You did nothing wrong.” Dean sighed. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I didn’t want you to have to do that.”

“I killed somebody,” you said again, and Dean’s arms tightened around you. He knew he couldn’t talk you out of this; not yet, you were still in shock. So he’d do the only thing he could.

“It’s gonna be ok, baby,” he soothed. “I promise.”

…

“Where is that girl?”

“You lookin for Y/N?” Sam asked as Dean wandered around the bunker.

“Unless we’ve got another girl living here I don’t know about,” Dean shot back.

Sam just rolled his eyes.

“She’s in the library doing homework.”

“Again?” Dean shook his head. “I think I’ve let her spend too much time with you, she’s becoming quite the nerd.”

“Don’t look at me,” Sam chuckled. “I told her to take a break like an hour ago. That nerdy behavior is all her.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean closed the book in front of Sam. “You both need a break.”

“Ok,” Sam shrugged. “Good luck, she’s just as stubborn as you.”

“We’ll see.”

…

“Hey!” You yelped in surprise when your dad lifted you up and out of your chair, Sam watching from the doorway with a grin on his face.

“No more books, you two have spent too much time being nerds this week.”

“But I have a paper to write!”

“You mean that paper you told me is due in three weeks?”

“Well…”

“Uh huh,” Dean said. “You’ve got time, so take a break.”

“On one condition; we watch Lord of the Rings.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sam cut in.

“Oh come on,” Dean groaned. “Could you two be bigger nerds?”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t want to watch it,” you giggled, trying to squirm out of Dean’s hold since he still hadn’t put you down.

“I don’t remember asking for your input,” Dean huffed, setting you down on your bed and digging his fingers into your stomach. You squealed in surprise as your dad tickled you. “And I certainly didn’t ask for your sass!”

“Who-who do you thin-think taught it to me!” You giggled, squirming as Dean didn’t let up.

“Hey now!” Dean scoffed. “Now you’re just asking for it.”

Dean continued to scratch and poke at your sides, your stomach, and your neck until your face was bright red and your laughter was silent.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean said as he let up, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way towards the Dean cave, Sam following behind.

“Yo-hou’re mean,” you giggled.

Dean just chuckled.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

#dean winchester #dean and sam #the winchesters #dean winchester x reader #supernatural dean #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x daughter!reader #sam winchester x niece!reader

[szasfuckingwife]

CANDY

TOJI FUSHIGURO x FEM!READER + MEGUMI

WARNINGS: FLUFF, megumi is a kid, megumi initially doesn’t like y/n, cute ending

A/n: i love kid megumi he’s SO CUTE omds

“Gumi!” You jumped as you saw the small dark haired boy on the way back to Toji’s bedroom.

You and Toji had been dating for a mere seven months and things were going great. I mean, not every relationship makes it this far- especially when one of you has a child.

When you met Megumi, you were surprised on how quiet he was. Most five year olds run up and down the walls all while screaming the house down but Megumi appreciated silence. Where the other kids were playing outside in the sun, drenching themselves with water, Megumi liked to draw that very scene but just from inside.

Toji always thought it was a little strange but never questioned it. He thought that this was what he gets for giving his mother hell when he was a child. The first thing Toji told you about his son was, ‘Well…he’s different from most kids.’

You knew that Megumi’s mother had passed and those shoes were unimaginably huge shoes to fill. So, you took your time with him. You rarely stayed the night, you only took him out on the weekends, you tried to elongate your conversations the more you spoke. Not only did you want a relationship with the child, but you didn’t want to give him the wrong idea that you were his mother’s replacement.

But the kid seemingly wasn’t a fan.

So, when you bump into him in the dimly lit hallway, you’re scared shitless.

“Gumi, what are you doing up?!”, you nervously chuckle. The child looks blankly at you, as if he thinks you’re the dumbest person to ever walk. “It’s far too late, you should be asleep.”

“Why are you here so late?” He asks, his voice was monotone. You chuckle again nervously, wishing Toji could wake up right now and try to explain things to his son.

You tightened your lips, “Ah…well…you see-”

However, your voice left you when Megumi walked away. You stood there in shock. Was it something you said? Was he mad that you were there when normally you’d be gone?

Deciding it’s best not to leave a child on his won at night, you follow him. It’s hard to see anything due it being night and nothing is lit up. But you figure that Megumi must have night vision or something due to the speed in which he walked.

You heard the back door open and every single fear came to mind. Immediately, you run to the door, panic laced in your every movement. Your brows furrow in the dark, trying to spot him.

“Megumi!” You yell.

But just then, you hear a tiny ‘shh!’ come from beneath you.

When you look down, you’re met with a sight that warms your heart.

Megumi strokes the head of one of the two dogs on his lap. You see the plate of hot dogs resting beside him with a glass of milk. The dogs looked comfortable in Megumi’s arms, you could’ve swore you saw the dark one nuzzle into his touch.

“You’re being too loud!” Megumi whispered.

You found the courage to sit next to Megumi, even though this was the first time you and him have ever been together without Toji. “So…what do you have there?”

“Dogs.” He answers.

He’s witty, like his father.

You chuckle slightly, “Who’s their owner?”

Megumi shakes his head and sighs. “They don’t have an owner. Or a mama.”

In regret of your question, you look away. “Their mama must’ve been a good mama. They’re good boys. They listen, they’re calm. Well…sometimes. They bark at me if I don’t give them my toys to chew on.”

Your heart aches for the boy. Having to grow up without a mother must’ve been tough, not only for Toji but for him too. Toji has confided in you how tough not having Megumi’s mother around can be.

There are some things you just need your mom for.

“But I love them. They’re kind.” He says. “They always come when dad’s asleep. We always play fetch and hide and seek together. But today, I think they’re just tired.”

You find yourself smiling at Megumi. He’s extremely mature for his age. “I think my dad knows about them. He always says the ‘sh’ word when they poo in the garden.”

Megumi’s comment humours you, since you have heard the very same ‘sh’ word leave Toji’s mouth when he finds presents left by the dogs.

“Are you my new mama?” He asked you, finally looking directly at you. His question was scary. There was no right answer to give.

Do you say yes and let Megumi think that you want both him and his father to forget the existence of his mother? Or do you say no and let Megumi think that you don’t want to have him as a son?

“Megumi…I’m whatever you want me to be.” You reply. “Whether it’s a stranger, a friend, dads girlfriend, or someone that helps you look after the dogs at midnight.”

He looks at you attentively, “But all I know is that you are an amazing kid. And I’d be a lucky woman to have you as a son. I’m sure your dad agrees.”

“I know dad likes you a lot.” You nod. “And auntie Maki likes you.” You nod again, chuckling.

“I think my mama would like you.”

Tears sting your eyes as you look at him lovingly. For such a young boy, he’s so open and beautiful with his feelings. “I think I’d like her too.”

You see him nod and stand up, struggling to hold both dogs.

“Where ya going?”

“They’re stinky. I’m going to give them a bath.”

You are again left behind as Megumi walks away with unrealistic speed. A chuckle leaves your lips as you get up and chase after him, shouting out, “Wait for me..”

Toji’s in the car, driving you home with his son in the backseat. Again, Toji yelled out an expletive when he saw the poo left behind by the dogs. You remember Megumi smiling at you as Toji began to clean it up.

Toji finally pulls up as he reaches your apartment. He gets out first and you’re reminded that Toji would never let you open your own door if he’s around.

You get out of the car as Toji opens the door. You stare up at the raven haired man, noticing all the details him and his son share.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He hugs you tightly, kissing your cheek in the meanwhile. You nod at him before kissing his scarred lips.

You wave to Megumi through the window, surprised when he actually waves back. “You see that? He’s starting to like me!”

Toji smiled at your amusement, giving you one more parting kiss. There was a sense of pride with seeing both his girlfriend and son starting that bond. If he’s ever done any wrong, Megumi and you are those little things that he got right.

As Toji got back in the car, Megumi sighed deeply before clearing his throat.

“Got somethin’ to say, lil man?” Toji looks at him through the rear mirror.

The boy nods, “I like Y/N.”

Mentally, Toji is screaming, jumping for joy as fireworks explode. But, in front of his son, he saves face, giving a small hum as a response.

“I like her too.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu megumi #megumi fluff

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Conrad's panic attack at the end of episode 3 but instead of Steven, reader goes after him. Maybe they no longer speak and had a huge falling out

Seeing that scene gave me so many flashbacks of scary times. When it happens, you sometimes don’t know what is happening and there’s so many things happening at the same time. I often get them at night. Waking up unable to breathe, heart palpitations, shaky legs and feeling so hot no amount of cold air makes me cool enough. Or during ptsd moments. 

Warnings: panic attack

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You were all gathered in front of the television, ready for a movie night. It happened one night filled the screen, a choice made by Belly, but no one was mad about it. Though the seating arrangements caused a few initial hiccups, everyone managed to find a comfortable spot. Belly and Taylor sat closely on the right end of the couch, Jeremiah and Steven on the left, and you occupied the middle. Conrad had the loveseat all to himself.

As the movie began, you couldn't help but steal a glance at Conrad, secretly wishing you were sitting beside him. However, things had changed between the two of you, and you hadn't spoken in months — not since the funerals. 

Beside Steven, Jeremiah's soft laughter echoed, reminding you of the good times you all used to share. It felt like a brief return to the past.

A few minutes in, Conrad’s phone buzzed, drawing your attention. His expression shifted as he read the message, the light amusement on his face falling, the movie now entirely forgotten. He quietly got up, trying to not disturb anyone, and left the house through the backdoor.

A sense of concern washed over you as you watched him go. You couldn't help but wonder what the message on his phone could have been and why it affected him so deeply. Your first thought was that it was about his mom, but Susannah was gone now. So, it was either school or his dad. 

Without hesitation or explanations, you stood and went after him. Steven opened his mouth to ask where you were going, but you ignored him. 

Forgetting about shoes, you let the door slam shut behind you, only thinking about Conrad. You hurried down the deck, seeing his figure walking down the beach in the darkness of the evening. The beach and the sea had always been a safe place for Conrad, he found the sound of crashing waves created soothing.

‘’Conrad!’’ you called out in the distance.

He didn’t turn or stop. He kept walking to the shoreline, his back was hunched as his breathing became rapid and shallow. Like he was struggling to find air. You saw him place a hand over his chest right before he stumbled and fell to his knees in the sand.

Your eyes widened with worry, and you could feel your heart racing. ‘’Conrad!’’ 

This time, you ran up to him. The sand was getting between your toes, a feeling you absolutely despised, but you ignored your own discomfort and focused on Conrad. You fell down on the sand beside him, saying his name again. 

Conrad looked up at the sound of your voice, his eyes wide with fear and vulnerability. His breaths were erratic, and it was clear he was struggling to regain control of the rising panic within him. His eyes were filled with distress, not understanding what was happening. 

‘’I-I can't breathe,’’ he managed to say, his voice trembling. ‘’My chest feels so tight, I—’’ 

Your heart sank as you realized what was happening. Conrad was having a full-blown panic attack. You should have guessed faster. You knew the signs all too well. They can be overwhelming and debilitating.

‘’You’re having a panic attack,’’ you explained calmly, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Conrad's gaze locked with yours, searching for some form of reassurance. ‘’Make it stop,’’ he stammered, his voice still shaking. ‘’Please, make it stop.’’ He clutched at his chest, gripping his shirt tightly, the air unable to pass through his lungs. 

You had been taught a few techniques to come back from a panic attack, but you figured the fastest one would work best on Conrad. 

You took his hand and put it over your chest. Conrad tried to push you away, but you didn’t let him. ‘’Follow my breathing.’’ 

It felt overwhelming to be touching you, to be so close to you. It made Conrad’s heart want to jump out of his chest. He tried his best to follow along, trying to focus on your breathing instead of how you made him feel. It was evident that he was struggling, but he made an effort to control his breaths, to follow your pattern. 

Gradually, Conrad's breathing started to stabilize, and his panicked expression softened. ‘’That’s it. Keep breathing with me,’’ you encouraged him, offering a sense of safety and stability in the midst of his distress.

As the minutes passed, the panic attack began to subside. Conrad's shoulders relaxed, and his grip on your arm loosened. The crashing waves provided a natural rhythm for his breath, and he started to find a sense of calm. 

Once he was in a better state, he looked at you with gratitude in his eyes. ‘’Thanks for…helping me,’’ he whispered, his voice still shaky but filled with appreciation.

‘’You don't have to thank me, Con,’’ you replied gently.

Con. You had not called him that in a while. It felt strange on your tongue. 

‘’I want to,’’ he insisted. ‘’If you had not followed me out here, I would not have known what to do.’’ Conrad looked down, brushing sand off his jeans. 

‘’Well, I’m glad to have helped you. I…I’m gonna go back inside, now. I know you don’t want me to be here.’’

His words had been harsh when he saw you arriving with Jeremiah yesterday. They stung, but you didn’t expect him to be happy to see you either. Not after your breakup at Susannah’s funeral.

‘’It’s not true.’’ Conrad lifted his head, but kept his eyes on the sea. ‘’I always want you to be there. Even when I say I don’t.’’ 

You looked at Conrad, surprised by his honesty and vulnerability. It was rare he would speak his emotions out loud. He was more of a bottling things up and rarely, if ever, expressing them kind of person.

‘’I'm sorry for what I said to you. For everything,’’ he said, feeling a pang of guilt in his chest. ‘’I never wanted to hurt you, but I did. I should have taken the hand you were holding out for me instead of ripping it off and seeking comfort in someone else's arms to hurt you enough that you'd hate me and go away.’’

As Conrad poured his heart out, you could see the pain and regret in his eyes. For once, he wasn’t pushing you away. He was opening to you and making confessions you never thought you would ever get. 

He kept going. ‘’No matter what I do or say, you'll always be there. Here.’’ Conrad clawed at his heart and then dropped his hand. ‘’You’re engraved in my heart, Y/N, and I can’t get you out. I tried. I tried really hard, but something always pulls me back to you.’’

You took a moment to process his words, then spoke. ‘’Have you ever heard of the Red string of fate?’’ Conrad drew his eyebrow together, so you continued. ‘’It’s an ancient legend that originated in East Asia. The legend speaks of an invisible red string tying two together those who are meant to meet, no matter how far apart they live or how different their lives are. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break.’’

Conrad traced over your pinky, as if he was visualizing the red string there. ‘’Do you think this string is— that our string is tied to each other?’’ 

You looked down where he was touching you, feeling a slight shiver at his touch. You looked back up into Conrad's blue eyes. ‘’Maybe,’’ you replied, reaching out to gently touch his hand.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight  @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher imagine #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher fanfic #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine

[taikk0]

POMNI DOODLE DUMP BECAUSE I HAVE TOO MANY SHITTY DOODLES OF HER

I was at a family reunion at a resort........ i had to borrow my dads laptop..........

taikko at 3 am: whys it kinda look like her (brain fried)

gguhhh,, trans pomni save me save me trans pomni

saw she woke up on the wacky watch and i immediately started drawing

during the family reunion my friend was still at school and drew me something and i cherish it very dearly so i redrew it

i. hi. avert your eyes.

two chibis of my POSSIBLY new sona... the one on the left is pretty old, right is a redraw

ms paint flashbang

blehhh ok i do a challenge but also not rlly a challenge its just something i do for fun, but i draw pomni everyday. daily pomni.. always update my spam twitter bc of it and thats why i have so mnay drawings of her

here are four entries that i made to fulfill the challenge but during those four days i was feeling mad silly

more daily pomi

daily pomni grind never ends

feat. my friends attempt

demons possess me when i get a hold of the thin brush

LET ME BE CRINGE

AAAAND tumblr wont let me post any more photos..... reblogging with more............. TRUST ME WHEN I SAY THERES MORE. MUCH MORE

#THIS IS SO LONG BUT I DONT WANNA POST EM ONE BY ONE GRAAAHHHH #taikko art #the amazing digital circus #tadc pomni #tadc fanart #tadc art #tadc #pomni #digital circus #amazing digital circus #pomni fanart #pomni art #the amazing digital circus pomni #pomni tadc

[christinesficrecs]

It's the time of the year where I sneak holiday fics into all my recs. 🤶🏻

Scent Left Unsaid by bleep0bleep | 2.5K | Mature

In a society where werewolves are second class, Deucslist is an alternative werewolf network (similar to Craigslist) where humans and werewolves offer (mostly sexual) services. Derek is a long-term client of an anonymous human omega whose scent is just perfect. He never expects to meet him, until it happens.

Derek has slept with that faded red hooded sweatshirt every night since he got it in the mail. It’s calming, that scent; it’s everything to him. So it’s strange now that Derek is smelling it wafting from the end of the subway car as it careens towards the L line, lights flickering on the passing platforms.

My World Is Filled With Cheer And You by bleep0bleep | 10.8K

In which Derek and his daughter are displaced just in time for the holidays, matched up with Stiles and his young son in a government protection program.

Sidequest  by bleep0bleep | 11.4K

Agent Derek Hale has been working up the courage to ask his partner Stiles out on a date (finally!) when he heads out on a solo mission—without Derek. Eager to provide support, Derek arrives in Beacon Hills, only there is no mission, and Stiles’ dad thinks Derek is Stiles’ boyfriend.

Well. It could be worse.

The Kiss Doctor by bleep0bleep | 3.5K

“That’s me,” Derek says. “Are you, um— the Kiss Doctor?” “Stiles,” is the reply, and the guy grins. It’s charming.

i wait for you like a lonely house by bleep0bleep | 4.5K

Derek isn’t sure why he buys the house. He doesn’t need the space, that much is certain. While it’s not as big as the one Derek grew up in, something about the cheerful yellow paint and the wide staircase (with banisters wide enough for children to slide down) draws him in.

affettuoso  by bleep0bleep | 13K

Derek mentally kicks himself for just standing there like a lovestruck fool, but it’s been exactly forty-six days since he saw Stiles, and he still remembers the taste of his skin, how Stiles feels underneath him.

The Gentleman And The Fox by  bleep0bleep, Inkforwords | 15.7K

Derek doesn’t expect much from his arranged marriage. When his inattentive husband, Lord Stiles Stilinski, tells him he’s free to look for a lover, he doesn’t know where to start, until a dashing bandit named the Red Fox catches his eye.

All's Fair in Orgasms and War by bleep0bleep | 63.2K | Explicit

The one in which (almost) everyone is a porn star, and Derek just wants to curl up with his fluffy blanket and watch the Hallmark channel, but work and falling in love gets in the way.

nom de plume by  bleep0bleep | 3.9K

There are no more chapters. 22 is the last one. Derek groans in despair. He has to know what happens.

Five Times Detective Stilinski and Fire Captain Hale Had Sex In Public, and One Time They Did It In A Bed by bleep0bleep | 32.8K

“Did you say–” Stiles starts.

“What?” Derek growls.

“We’re not a couple!” they both retort in unison.

“We’re not together,” Stiles insists.

Lydia coughs pointedly. “An incident report filed by 87th Precinct Captain Erica Reyes. March twenty-fifth, eight p.m. Came back to the precinct to grab my coat, only to hear Stilinski banging his new boyfriend in the holding cell.”

i wanna dance with somebody (who loves me) by bleep0bleep | 10.5K

Derek gets in an accident and loses a few years of his memory; suddenly everything is different— he’s not a freshman loser anymore, but a popular senior, captain of the basketball team, a shoo-in for prom king, too, and he should have everything he’s ever wanted— except he doesn’t seem to be friends with Stiles anymore.

Mauve by bleep0bleep | 7.3K

It’s been ten years since he’s seen Derek Hale, but Stiles would recognize that ass anywhere.

remember my love by bleep0bleep | 23.3K

Stiles wakes up and suddenly the war is over, he's no longer a penniless mage, and living in an exquisite manor married to the man he's been in love with for far too long.

“It’ll be fine,” Stiles says gallantly. “I am certain I will just fall in love with my husband all over again, and I will find plenty of joy doing that.” He winks at Derek for good measure. Derek blinks.

of course, of course by bleep0bleep | 12.9K | Explicit

Derek swallows, watching Stiles mull over the paperwork. “Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” Stiles says, licking his lips. He signs with a flourish and pushes the contract back at Derek.

Derek knows every word of the contract by heart, but his heart stutters anyways when a sentence jumps out at him. The client acknowledges that any bond created during the heat session is temporary.

#sterek fics #sterek #ficrecs #fanfic writers #sterek fandom #author spotlight #bleepobleep #author appreciation

[risibledeer]

so you know that feeling when your parents go through your procreate randomly so you don't have time to hide any questionable stuff and its full of fanart of these minecraft youtubers and animes and particularly this one guy who your account is practically a fanpage for, and they look at you weirdly because they have seen a lotta artwork which totally makes sense with context of the videos but seems completely out of left field without it, for example why is there a fish guy holding a book, what is all this blood for, why is there a giant fish lady next to a small ugly guy which you have captioned fish frickers, snails??? plus purple haired guy eating - what is that? what's a coffee jelly? and is that a blond guy in a maid dress? what is the dog-guy doing eating icecream with a blond guy? also why are there references to neck kisses? and also should i be worried about the concerning amount of times you've drawn this one guy in this one single piece of fanart (27 times btw lol) and wow your art is actually kinda good and i didn't know cause the last time you showed me your art was of your underdeveloped oc and bnha which was a year and a half ago. plus if that wasn't weird enough you've got artwork you uploaded to your tumblr signed with your username which you have not told your parents about so now you're worried they're gonna search up your tumblr and maybe see more of the said fanart and even worse your captions but also what have they seen already because i didn't turn of the layers on all my sketches so there's some wild shit on there and also cuss words (yes ik frickers is not exactly the worst cuss word out there, but it is in this economy) and your mom saw you doing your homework on your computer and was like oh are you fanboying again which like wth where did that come from but also mom i've seen some questionable shit on your phone and your dad who isn't exactly familiar with gayish stuff because we're from a pretty conservative country is like oh yeah homophobia bad all of a sudden in the middle of a random conversation about genetics of all things and geezus did i just solve homophobia and also apparently fishphobia in my family with fanart of anime people kissing and minecraft?

*deep breath* yeah....i dunno that feeling either........

draw fanart of anime and minecraft and change the world everybody, one maid dress and fish-person at a time. i love my parents lol

ps i might delete this soon lol

#smallishbeans #is the guy i drew 27 times in one fanart lol #grian #the mending guy #ldshadowlady #is the giant fish lady #saiki k #is the coffee jelly #JIMMY CANONICALLY WEARS A MAID DRESS IN SOS #i promise im not drawing random people in maid dresses #l've inadvertently achieved world peace guys #to be clear i do show my art to my family #but i do like the charcoal fineartsy stuff so its more of that i show than my fanart #so like they know i like to draw and are supportive but they just didn't know i was a fandom-type gal #but hey my dad and mom are too for like different things so idk what i was worried about i love them lol #empires smp #life smp #trafficblr #martyn inthelittlewood #rendog #joel smallishbeans #jimmy solidarity #fanart #hermitcraft #hermitblr #mc sos #minecraft sos

[ellabsweet]

[*ੈ✩] 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐆𝐎 • 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒

synopsis: you believe your girlfriend ellie has cheated on you and return home only to fall into tears when suddenly your dad’s best friend decides to cheer you up

pairing: dbf!abby anderson x reader x ellie williams

warning: problematic age gap (reader is 20 abby is in her mid 30s), mentions of cheating and the act thereof, sex so minors and men do not interact, somewhat angsty and perhaps a multiple part series if you guys want it!

Tears welled up in your eyes as you attempted to hold back sobs, hands gripping the steering wheel with all of its strength as though the mere thought of letting go would’ve made you shatter onto the ground, collapse. You bit down hard on your lips, a failed attempt to silence yourself and your phone still occasionally lit up with notifications from Ellie you’ve stopped yourself from reading a while ago.

Els <3: Babe please talk to me. You know there is nothing going on, please. Let me explain it, you’re the only one. You’re my girl.

Once the missed calls and texts died down in defeat you could finally gather your thoughts in a sigh, hands rubbing your eyes with an agression unneeded to dry tears, and it suddenly dawned on you the feeling of a stare piercing through your side that your brain has been ignoring the past couple minutes, a curse escaping your lips as you saw the flipped light of your neighbour who calmly approached the car with a concerned expression.

Overprotection was a word so familiar to you it must’ve attached itself to your family tree, and Abby Anderson was its version personified, you had moved out and even then the furthest you could’ve gotten from your parents was straight next door to your dad’s best friend. She would be sure to tell them about this and your fate would remain to be scolded and ostracised for not being able to care of yourself, alone at night crying in a driveway like the foolish child they had always claimed you to be, over a girl nevertheless. You wanted to disappear, melt into the leather seats and escape her gaze, though it was far too late, the blonde was fast knocking on your window.

“Hey petal, you okay?” She asked as you rolled down the glass, hiding a sniff on your sweater’s sleeve, swallowing tears.

“Hi Ms.Anderson”

“It’s just Abby, sweetheart” She corrects you nonchalantly before slowly opening the car door and slipping into the seat next to you “It’s almost two in the morning, why are you out here crying? Do you need me to call your dad-“

“No! God, no! Please it’s just, just stupid. I saw my girlfriend kissing someone else. Didn’t want to go into the house and see pictures of her spread around my room yet”

“That’s not stupid. Heartbreak is always awful, especially when you’re young, I’m so sorry” She says, and with the kindness you dissolve into your crying once again, a mess of sobs. It takes Abby a moment, but it still happens far too quick, her arms suddenly wrapped around your shaking body drawing circles over your back as to calm you down, she’s hushing you and placing your hair behind your ears and you are deeply embarrassed but so far gone to stop “Shhh, petal, look at me”

“I’m so sorry. You deserve so much more than that” Her voice is low, steady, there is something in it that tastes like yearning at the tip of your tongue and all your attempts to brush it off as incoherent dissipated under her intense gaze, staring at you quizzically in a silence so pure it left only heavy breathing to echo and you were scared at your close faces she’d be able to hear your heartbeat, understand what you yourself were struggling to in that moment when her eyes dropped from yours onto your lips.

“Ms.Anderson…” You breathed out hesitantly

“It’s Abby” She corrects you once again until her thumb finds its way to your cheek, gripping your face in her palm as though debating something internally while you melt into her strong touch, finding a stability within her hold that you had been craving for a long while now, too flustered in your thoughts to fully consider what it means when she took that same finger and brushed it against your lips toying with its plump softness into opening lightly for her, finger coming into your mouth to be wet by your tongue flipping around it in a suction movement. The blue in Abby’s eyes darken.

She leans forward once your eyes trace up doe looking at her, she removes her finger with a pop to press your lips together and there is an unexpected softness within the hunger, she takes her time exploring the insides of your mouth gripping your chin to steady in place. There is still time to stop, she thinks to herself, but then her grip lowers to your throat in a light chokehold and the moans you kept release inside your kiss and its muffled sound is enough to drive her past sensibility and even insanity.

“Let me show you how a real woman takes care of you, please” She’s begging and you’re blushing and nodding furiously, a whimper stuck to your throat which is not enough for her “Use your words, petal”

“Y-yes, please” You stutter out not missing the smirk growing on her face, Abby is quick to trail kisses down your neck so wet it distracts you from her hands by the clasp of your bra letting it fall onto the car’s floor, she lifts your shirt up in one swift movement and suddenly her mouth is by your breasts, hovering over your nipples until her warm breath sent them into goosebumps. You whimper impatient and she chuckles taking one into her hand and the other into her mouth, tracing circles over your sensitive area until you’re panting, knees pressing together in anticipation for her tongue elsewhere.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful” Abby whispers into your skin before moving onto the neglected breast for its own sucking “I bet your little girlfriend didn’t even know what to do with you”

Your eyes flash sadness amongst the arousal and Abby takes none of it, hands quickly unbuttoning the pants you wore and forcing them down your thighs before pressing a slap against them that shakes your body and clears your mind “Gonna make you feel good, yeah? Forget all about her”

She has her fingers down your underwear in a second, muttering curses under her breath at the wetness that completely enveloped her hand, she watches you squirm under her from the lightest of pressure and proceeds to push one finger inside, circling motions hitting your clit continuously, you are a mess of moans when her free hand grabs at your waist and straightens you forwards into riding her hand, second finger added.

“Such a good girl fucking herself on my fingers, such a fucking good girl” She mutters watching you pick up your pace, she’s kissing on your exposed skin and digging her nails across your back, uses her strenght to carry you onto her lap which only digs her fingers deeper inside you, a scream lodged in your throat from the overstimulation “Does she get you all worked up and wet like this, does she even know how to treat this pretty little pussy?” She slaps it with the question and your answer gets lost midway out.

“Abby, I’m gonna-“

“No you’re not, gotta taste you first, pretty girl” Just like that she flips you over, head where you once sat on the driver’s seat and legs up in the air, her mouth quickly latches onto your dripping cunt and it practically slurps on it.

Cat: She didn’t kiss me back. Didn’t want to need to text you this shit but Ellie’s crying and I didn’t want this to happen, I just thought she liked me. Guess she’s too into you. I don’t get it either.

Els<3: I’m kcmhng ovrr to ur hojse so we can talkkd okay pls wait fofr me i loeve you sos much baby

#dbf!abby #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #the last of us fanfiction #lesbian #ellie williams x reader #abby anderson fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #ellabs x reader

[blackypanther9]

If you had a girlfriend and came out to Alastor – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader

To Anon: Hi there, Nonny ! You see I did some research and apparently in the roaring 1920s there was a “Pansy Craze” (a period of increased LGBT visibility In American culture and New Orleans belonged to the USA since 1803, so it could have also affected them in my researches). From the 1920s to 1933 people from the LGBTQ community performed on stages in Cities around the world. So I thought, maybe they knew and I decided to make a TWO in ONE Oneshot, just to make it a bit fair. One where Y/n found out she was lesbian when she was alive and one when she was in Hell. Just in case someone wants a Human Version too. I hope that is not an issue for ya ! ^^’  Without further ado and my nerdy, scraping over the surface knowledge....I hope you enjoy this Oneshot and I hit your expectations with this ! QwQ

TAGLIST: @meg-giry1 @wen01203

(Drawing belongs to rightful owner)

Words: 6 864

Human Version:

You were nervous beyond belief. Why ? Your Father, Alastor Hazbin, the infamous Radio Host, wanted to meet your Lover. Many would be excited, of course, but your case was different. VERY different. Your Father assumed that your Lover was a man, that you somehow got without him knowing, but it was a woman...just like you. You were so very scared of your Father’s reaction.

For weeks you could hide it from him, your dirty little secret. At least you hoped you could, but he knew you were sneaking out a lot, lying into his face with where you went, you were bad in lying. He could read you like an open book.

For three years you knew that you were a lesbian. Men never interested you in any way that would have screamed love. But females ? You saw one once and she was so pretty that your heart started to do flips, when you talked to a pretty girl, you would stutter which you usually never did. These signs were enough for you, to test something and the results showed, that you were indeed...attracted to woman. Your own gender. Fuck.

Your beloved partner, took your left hand into her own, gently. You looked at her and she gave you a smile, to try and encourage you. After you finished your test, by asking her out, just to test a theory, the two of you became actual Lovers and you were happy, just sneaking around and stealing kisses. Now this could all end abruptly. You took a deep breath. You tightened your hold on your Lover’s hand, to ground yourself.

“Here goes nothing...”, you muttered.

You lifted your hand and knocked at the door of your home. Alastor practically locked you out and said he will only let you back inside again, if you let him meet your Lover. No talking yourself out of it.

So you went to her place a scared mess and explained the whole situation. She calmed you down and agreed to go instantly. The faster this is over and done with, the less you can work yourself up about it.

The door swung open and the face of your Father greeted you both, big smile on his face, which dimmed as he saw you and your partner, assuming she was just your friend.

“Cher...who is this ?”, your Father asked, never having met your Girlfriend before.

You took another deep inhale, while your Lover continued to hold your hand and squeezed it affectionately, supporting you the best she could.

“D-Dad...C-can we c-come in ?”, you asked in a nervous stutter.

Alastor looked at you both in concern, knowing this was something heavy and serious to you, so he stepped aside and let you both enter the house. You both just stood in the living room after you took off your shoes. Alastor gestured to the couch, while he went to the kitchen to make some tea and a coffee for himself.

The both of you sat down and you started to shake and sweat. Your partner gave you an affectionate hug.

“Calm down, Love. I’m sure he won’t hate you.”, your Girlfriend said softly.

You looked at her, shaking like a leaf.

“W-what if he...disowns me...? I-I just want his support. W-what if he won’t...accept me ? Accept you ? Accept us ? I love you, but I also love him. I don’t want to lose my Papa. He raised me for years, Darling.”, you whispered shakily.

She hugged you tighter and ran her fingers through your hair, kissing your cheek.

“Don’t draw crosses on the walls just yet, Love. You told me so many stories about your Dad, that I am almost certain, that he will at least try and adjust to this. You said he always made sure that no man will hurt you, never let any of them take you out on a date...maybe he will be glad you are not into men anyways.”, she tried to comfort you.

You looked at her and kissed her lovingly. She really was your rock right now. You were so scared and nervous, that you didn’t even think of that possibility. Your Pa was always gentle with women, but rarely with men. Maybe he will accept this... Hopefully...

Soon enough Alastor returned with two cups.

“I made Peppermint tea. I hope it will calm you down, Cher. You look ready to bolt away and cry.”, your Father said gently and set the two cups down in front of you and your Lover.

“Th-thanks...Papa...”, you got out.

He saw how much you shook. You looked like you were about to cry for hours and it worried him deeply. Did something happen ? Was your friend with you, because your Lover decided to dump you ? Was he abusive ? Did Alastor have to go on another killing spree ?

He returned with his cup of Coffee and sat down in his armchair. He looked at his daughter with worried eyes, still filled with adoration and love for his little girl.

“Mon ange (My Angel), what happened ? Why are you so nervous ?”, your Father asked gently.

Your Lover squeezed your shoulder gently, encouraging you to come out to him.

“Y-you wanted to m-meet my L-Lover...right, Papa ?”, you stuttered out, wringing your hands in an aggressive manner.

Your partner took your hands into hers and squeezed them, trying to avoid it that you hurt yourself. Alastor nodded.

“Did he hurt you ? Do I have to get police involved ?”, he asked you.

You shook your head and then clammed your mouth shut. Your anxiety was skyrocketing.

“Drink a sip of your tea, Cher.”, your Father suggested gently.

You shakily reached out for it and as you took it, Alastor saw how violently you shook. You almost spilled your drink while you sipped on it. After you sipped enough, you felt a bit calmer, but still very scared. You looked at your partner, who nodded and gave you and encouraging smile.

You looked at your Father again, took a deep breath and then tried to not look so scared. He admired your urge to try and act fearless, but he knew how spooked you are, so he didn’t understand, why you steeled yourself so.

“Pa...I never courted a man.”

Relief and confusion rushed through him at that. No one hurt his little girl, then why were you so scared and here with your friend ?

“Then why are you so spooked, mon petit (My little one) ?”

“I...I said I never courted a man...I didn’t s-say that I was-wasn’t courting someone though, Papa...”

Your hands were clammy and sweaty, the urge to run, cry and vomit was so strong. But SHE grounded you. Your Lover grounded you. This was your Dad. He was always there for you. He might understand... You hoped.

“Then who are you courting, Cher ?”, Alastor asked a bit confused.

You took another deep breath, griped your partner’s hands tighter in your own, sat up straighter pushing your chest out a bit to try and show your confidence and gave your Father a determined look. He was surprised by how strong you try to be now, as if he will yell at you any second.

“Papa...You wanted me to introduce you to my beloved. I introduce you to my Lover. Her name is GF/n and she makes me happy.”, you blurted out, looking from her to your Father again.

His eyes were wide, his smile closed. His eyes swapped from you over to your Lover, then back to you. He looked at his Coffee.

“Am I really drinking Coffee right now ?”, he asked himself.

“You are, Papa. I’m serious.”, you told him, voice a bit weaker, lacking some confidence.

He looked at you again and your Lover.

“How long has this been going on ?”, he asked you, his voice a bit...off sounding.

You started to freak out on the inside, your confidence falling apart. He didn’t take it well, did he ? He is angry... He will kick you out. He will yell. He will shout. He will disown you. He will-

Your Lover squeezed your hand gently and you looked at her. She gave you her charming smile again, nodded gently and flicked her eyes from you to your Father, motioning you to answer him.

“We...we have b-been together fo-for...6 w-weeks.”, you stuttered out.

Alastor looked at you and set his Coffee down, not drinking it at all. He leaned forward.

“How did it start ?”, he asked.

“I-it started as an ex-experiment, r-really. We-we didn’t ex-expect the re-results...”

“Cher, stop stuttering so much. Now, tell me what experiment that was.”, he pressed.

He was actually curious, but his little girl was such a mess. Maybe he sounded a bit...cross ? He really didn’t mean to come off like that, but he was still processing all of it and he wanted to know everything, to see if you were forced into this or not.

You suddenly clammed your mouth shut, looking away, scared. You couldn’t say it, you weren’t brave enough. You tapped your Lover’s thigh gently, telling her to tell him. You were unable to.

She looked at your Father and lifted her hand softly, catching his attention.

“If I may...Y/n’s nerves are all over the place, which made her shut down on us. If you wish, I can tell you how it happened, what the experiment was about, Sir. Only if you wish to. Y/n...she is very nervous and scared.”, your Lover said.

He crooked his head to a side.

“Why would she be nervous and scared ?”, he asked.

“Well Sir, as you may know...not many approve of people like us. I tried to encourage her that you won’t be angry with her. I mean...she told me many stories about you and they were all good, you two barely argued about serious matters, you protect her from many things, you help her out with many things, which she returns as a favor and more. I tried to tell her that you most possibly won’t disown her, for being attracted to the same gender. Now that the cat is out of the bag, she is afraid what your reaction will be.”

He leaned back into his armchair and looked at you. So you were scared that he will yell at you...or worse. He sighed gently and looked at your partner, gesturing for her to tell him what the experiment was about. She nodded.

“Your daughter noticed small signs of her...sexual attractions. She was never interested in men, which she found odd, because no matter what type of man walked up to her, she found no interest or appeal in them, but with women...it seemed different. Quicker heartbeat, stuttering, finding interest in some women, finding them pretty in a different, less appropriate way...you name it. One day she met me and she wanted to experiment around with me. I work in a small bar and some knew that I was just like your daughter, not interested in men, but women. She heard about it and she found interest in me, so she asked me if I would be willing to help her in her own experiment. I agreed and we started to go out together a few times, each time it was beautiful. The more we continued her experiment, the more we fell in love with each other, until she asked me, formally, if I would do her the honors to court her. She was so shy and adorable about it too, some flowers, a package of chocolates and a small handmade scarf. I said yes and we have been courting formally for 6 weeks now.”

Alastor looked at her very interested as he heard her side of the story. You smiled gently at the memory, blushing slightly. Your Father noticed, but decided not to point it out. His smile didn’t drop, but it was a bit more genuine. He looked at you again.

“Cher, how long have you known, that you were interested in women ?”, he asked gently.

You wiggled around on the couch, uncomfortable.

“W-well, with all the signs I had...I suspected it already. If we would go only after the time I assumed this case, then it would be three years by now. When it was fully confirmed...since three months now. I experimented around with GF/n for two months, before I asked for her courtship.”, you answered, still awaiting his shouts and anger.

You were surprised as you heard your Father chuckle in amusement. You looked at your Father and saw his genuine smile, warmth and love in his eyes.

“Now, Cher, why would you ever assume that I would yell at you, for finding Love ? It may be frowned upon in the open, but for Heaven’s sake, if you love her, then you love her. What’s the big fuss about anyways ?”, he said with warmth in his voice.

“Wait...so you...you support me ?”, you asked with shyness.

“Indeed I do ! If she makes you happy, then who am I to stand in your way of your Love life, Cher ? You may be my child, but I am not controlling your life and what you fall in love with. Look at me, Cher ! I am not even married, never found the right one for me ! Hahaha !”

A big smile grew on your face. Your Lover smiled happily as she saw you light up, which also made your Father smile wider. He stood up and opened his arms for you.

“Come here, mon petit.”, he said.

You got up and ran into his arms, hugging your Papa tightly. He wrapped his arms around you too and swayed a bit back and forth, something that comforted you all the time. Happy tears escaped your eyes.

“I love you so much, Papa. You are the best.”, you said into his chest.

He smiled warmly at that and looked at your partner. He opened one of his arms and smiled gently.

“Come on, join in !”, he encouraged her.

She got up and joined into the hug. You felt so full with love and affection from the two people that meant the world to you.

“But just so you know, GF/n...you hurt my little Angel and you will have to answer to me.”, Alastor threatened.

Just because your Lover is a woman, doesn’t that mean he will be nice, if she breaks your heart. He will kill her and you knew that. You knew that you had to make sure you can trust her with that information, so she won’t spill. Because if anything happened to either of you, your Father would make sure they will be dead.

She would find out eventually, so you needed to make sure that she can be trusted with this.

Alastor would look after you and your Lover.

He fully supports you two.

If you would ever want to marry, he would give his blessing.

If the two of you ever argue and you tell your Dad, he will try to help you both sort everything out. He would calm you down and then talk with your beloved, to try and get you two back together and whoever was in the wrong, would get a scolding from him.

Your Father would never force you to marry a man for reputation, status or anything else, not even to cover up your relationship with your beloved.

If someone ever forces themselves on either of you, he will kill them, you just need to tell him.

If anyone finds out about it and wants to use it to their advantage to break you two apart, soil your names or even force one of you to marry them and have children, he will murder them in the most brutal way possible.

He will never arrange marriages with anyone for your hand, no matter what. He rather dies.

If anyone that was close to him knows about your sexual attractions and tells Alastor, he would kill them, after proudly admitting that he knew and supported it. He only left those alive, that didn’t mind it and were happy for you, just as he was.

He would fully support you and your significant other to adopt a child, if you two felt ready for it. He would even gladly help you two out.

At some point the three of you would sit down and Alastor would confess with you that he was the Bayou Killer.

Your Lover would swear secrecy and help if they needed it, after hearing that Alastor only killed those that deserved it. She also might have admitted that she already knew with the few kills that happened to certain men that harmed the both of you.

After Alastor would die, the two of you would continue his work and keep your children safe, if you have any. Otherwise it is to protect each other and other people that were innocent and would get tainted otherwise.

When the two of you die and land in Hell, you would actively hunt down your Father, while he did the same. His Father senses would immediately pick up on your arrival in Hell and he would start a search party.

You would all happily live together and catch up on what you missed from one another’s lives. You three would never split again and Alastor would help the both of you to become Overlords.

Hell Version:

You had no idea that you were lesbian, when you were alive. You just always believed what your Father told you. That you hadn’t found “The right one” yet, like him. But it was so much more complicated.

If you thought back to the past, you should have realized it way sooner. How you felt drawn to other females, how you were suddenly such a mess when you talked to a beautiful woman. You never felt attracted, nor interested, in men when you were alive. Yu thought you were straight, but actually...you were homosexual.

Just to make sure, you started to date a Demoness, behind your Father’s back. After all....what would he think of you, if you got together with a Demoness ? A darn woman ? You didn’t really wanted to find out.

The Demoness you dated was beautiful. She was caring, loving and sweet to you too. She didn’t give a fuck who you were to the public, nor who your Father was in public. Sure, she was hesitant when you approached her and told her about who you were and who your Father was, but she still accepted to help you with figuring your sexual attractions out.

The more you two bonded, the more you two fell in love with one another. You shared stories with her about your Father, which made him sound like an absolute Sweetheart in private, so she was more intrigued to meet him one day, than scared. You said you want to keep it a secret from him, which she softly agreed to, seeing your worries. But...all things must come to an end... Which lead you to a few months later.

You never told your Father, you were sneaking around. The two of you worked in the Hazbin Hotel and you would usually just sneak out at night, when the Hotel was closed, without your Father interrogating you.

You were scared beyond belief, by just thinking of telling him that you are a lesbian. He accepted Charlie and Vaggie as a pair, sure, but none of the two were HIS kids. You were his Daughter and he probably expected better of you, than to fall in love with the same gender as you.

Who was your Father ? Alastor, the Radio Demon.

You knew that your Father was an Ace, or better an AroAce, you found that out a while ago with Rosie by your side. He was never straight. He was Aromantic and Asexual, which, honestly, didn’t help you to be brave enough to tell him that you were Homosexual. It actually made it even harder.

Your Dad doesn’t even know he was an AroAce and he still had no idea what that term even meant. Rosie told him only once that he sounded like and AroAce and he asked her what that was supposed to mean. She never elaborated and you felt awkward telling him, so you didn’t.

The day had been stressful and you were already looking forward to sneaking out that night, just to see your Lover, GF/n. You just wanted to cuddle with her and tell her all about your stressful day, then fall asleep in her arms.

It was 1 in the morning ad you decided to leave. You left your room and tiptoed through the halls, to the stairs, tiptoed downstairs and then to the front door. You left quickly and quietly. You didn’t use your powers, because your Dad would have picked up on it and then could have tracked you down.

What you didn’t know, was that you weren’t as sneaky as you hoped. Alastor knew you were sneaking around at night and that night he sent his shadow after you, to spy, while he read a book in his room. He was concerned what you did at this unholy hour and why you didn’t tell him.

You walked for a while, until you were in Zestial’s turf. Then you stopped at a house and climbed through an open window, landing in the living room. You looked around and then closed the window gently, sneaking into the hall and then up the stairs, stopping at a door, opened it and entered. Inside the room, was your Beloved, reading a book. She stopped reading and looked up, smiling happily as she spotted you, which made you smile brightly too.

She closed her book, put it on her nightstand and got up. She rushed over and hugged you tightly, which you returned.

“Love ! How are you ?! You are late, I was worried you won’t come over today !”, she chirped, happily.

You chuckled and squeezed her gently.

“My Father was a bit longer than usual in the main Lobby and I can’t use my Magic to sneak off, he would track me down, Love. I’m so sorry.”, you answered her.

“It’s okay ! So ? How was your day ?”, she asked and lead you to her bed to sit down, next to her.

You groaned.

“Stressful. I don’t know how Father managed today, honestly ! Charlie had us all running around like headless chicken and the new exercises she wanted to do, were so many at once and so chaotic ! To top it all off, Pentious’ egg boiz blew holes into the ceiling and almost destroyed the roof ! Angel decided to get so wasted that he kept bothering my Father, who was close to blow a fuse and Vaggie is still staring daggers at me, because I am brutally honest with Charlie ! To end my charming day, I was left with a lot of paperwork, from Vaggie, for talking her Girlfriend down, even though I just tried to help and be honest ! It was the double amount my Father had gotten !”, you complained.

Your Lover frowned at that and started to sit behind you, massaging your shoulders, who were stiff and tense. You sighed and hummed, as she tried to loosen up your muscles.

“That really didn’t sound good. Nor is that Vaggie fair. She needs to understand that her partner also needs harsh reminders about reality. She is the Princess of Hell, but she is way too kind to get anywhere. She isn’t using her authority, nor her Power to make people stop seeing her as a joke. Coddling her won’t help her.”, your Beloved said gently.

“That is what I told her TWICE this week ! She doesn’t give a fuck ! Everyone is making fun of Charlie and she still coddles her, instead of telling her to be a bit more aggressive ! If this continues then they can shut down the Hotel entirely !”, you groaned.

She continued to massage your sore muscles and hummed gently.

“How is your Dad fairing, Love ?”

“He is managing better than me, I can tell you that. I was about to blow a fuse as Vagatha threatened me with her spear and cussed at me in Spanish. He was just so close to blow one today, that he decided to hide in his room and get to work on the papers, he is assigned to. Sometimes I am at a loss that he can still keep his smile up ! In his eyes stood pure annoyance today, while in mine was rage to see that I barely kept at bay ! Honestly, at this point I am unsure if I want to keep helping ! I just get backlash anyways !”, you scoffed.

Your Lover hugged you tightly from behind, calming down your boiling anger.

“I feel so bad for you two, Love.”, she said softly.

You sighed.

“There is not one day where we have some peace and quiet. How am I supposed to come up, with a speech, like that ?”, you said in defeat.

“You actually plan to tell him ?”, your Beloved asked you gently.

“I can’t hide this from Papa forever. I am surprised that I got away until now. But I have zero time to ready myself for the possible heartbreak I will go through.”, you muttered out.

She let go of you and kissed your neck.

“I think he will accept you still, even if you are...different.”, she tried to cheer you up, “After all, he accepts Vaggie and Charlie too, right ?”

“Hun, that is different.”

“How so ?”

“Vaggie and Charlie are not his children. I am his Daughter and I feel like I will disappoint him, when I tell him that I know now....why I was never interested in men. Yes, my Papa can be very laid back about a lot of things, mostly when it is me. But that doesn’t mean that he is alright with everything that I do and say. You have to remember that we lived in the 1920s, he lived through the late 1890s until the early 1930s, while I lived in the late 1910s to the late 1940s. Anything besides being straight was heavily frowned upon back then. Either you were straight, or you were a dysfunctional human being to the society.”, you reminded her.

“And you think your Dad will hate you for being...you ? He is an AroAce, that is what you said, with the Overlord of Cannibal Town, Rosie.”

“Cher, he has no idea what an AroAce even is.”

“Wait...none of you told him ?”, she asked in shock.

“Rosie didn’t elaborate, hoping he would research the terms himself, now that he has a label on him that he doesn’t know the meaning of and it was too awkward to me, to tell him. He always thought that he just didn’t find the right person. Imagine his world falling apart when he finds out that he was AroAce the whole time. I didn’t want him to have a breakdown about it. I can only imagine how sad he would be.”

“Now, now. Just because he is AroAce, doesn’t that mean he is incapable to be happy.”

“I know, but...at some points he HATES being different from others. I know so. I was there and at nights he thought I was asleep, he was crying. GF/n...he was hurting often and hid it behind a smile. Earth wasn’t kind to him...nor is Hell. He tries to hide it, but I know his big heart. I know that he is hurting even more and I am worried about him. He is my Papa, I love him very much. I hate to see him hurting so much.”

She gave you a sympathetic look and then a kiss on your cheek. You looked away and took a deep breath.

“As much as he would HATE to hear it...I wish he would have gone to Heaven after death. Heaven would have been kinder to him, he could have reunited with Grandma and...he would be carefree now. Here in Hell...he has to be the opposite. Hide behind smiles, show no weaknesses, be coldhearted...All this...isn’t my Papa. He is a very kind soul, but he can’t show it. And I hate that so much. He is always full of worries and fears, but he never lets anyone know. Not even me. It frustrates me, because I can see the pressure he is trying to carry on his own shoulders, all alone. He refuses help and he tries to do everything alone. He is going under in all the stress he tries to hide, he is suffering so much from it that it makes him a little crazy. I have no idea how to help him out.”, you vented.

“Have you ever asked him ? Spoken about these matters ?”

“I tried. Every time he avoids the subject ! He shuts down as soon as I try to get him to talk to me, so I can help and don’t have to watch, helplessly, how he slowly falls apart !”

Alastor’s smile was small and strained. You knew that he was very troubled. He thought he hid it well from you. He should have known that you could read him easily. After all, you grew up around him, as his Daughter.

But now a lowlife Demoness knows this too, the one you vented to. That won’t do...

He still didn’t pick up on you being Lovers. He couldn’t look through his shadow’s eyes, only listen in. He had to go and kill her when he has time.

“I tell you what. Tomorrow, I will come over to the Hazbin Hotel for a visit. You and I will tell him together about you....issue and then we try to make him open up about his own problems. It is not healthy to carry all your troubles on your own. You always need others to be stronger. Your Pa is making himself an easy target. The mind is a fragile thing, even down here.”

“Are you sure that he won’t...hate me ?”

“You told me so many stories about him and what a Sweetheart he can be in private, that I am determined to say that he won’t hate you. I am 100% sure he will still love you.”

Alastor tuned out after that, already planning her death, while the two of you made out and then decided to go to sleep.

-The next day-

You teleported back to the Hazbin Hotel, appearing in your room, after you gave your Lover a kiss. Venting to her yesterday helped you immensely. You took deep breaths, to calm down and then got ready for the day.

Charlie had you running some errands to get food stocked up, which took you a few hours. As you returned you were just informed that Charlie needed you to fill out important formulas for the Hotel, as the door opened. Everyone turned to the door in the Lobby and saw your Beloved.

“Oh my gosh ! A new guest ! Hello, I’m Charlie ! Do you want to get rehabilitated ?!”, she swarmed your Beloved and not letting her come to word.

“Actually, she is here to visit me.”, you said, coldly, to Charlie, not liking her hands on your Lover’s shoulders at all.

Charlie’s smile dropped and she sulked a bit.

“Oh...”

You approached them and pulled her into your embrace, giving Charlie a possessive glare, as you held your Beloved.

“Mine.”, you said.

Your Lover blushed and smiled brightly.

“Hun, please....”

“As if she would be willingly with you ! You are an Overlord and the Daughter of the Radio Demon ! You don’t have a heart that shows love ! What did you do to her ?!”, Vaggie accused and you glared at her, tightening your grip on your Beloved.

Your Partner glared at Vaggie.

“How about you shut your mouth, before I shut it for you, Vagatha ? Don’t you DARE to speak to me Beloved in that way !”, she snarled in anger.

Everyone stared in utter shock at the two of you. You smiled happily and kissed her cheek. As soon as you two parted from one another, your Father appeared in the Lobby. You looked at him in nerves, while your Lover kept a cool head.

“What is all this commotion about ?”, Alastor asked with a laughing track.

“Vagatha was a bitch towards your Daughter, is all, Sir.”, your Lover answered him politely, still glaring at Vaggie.

He looked at Vaggie.

“Is that so ?”, he asked dangerously calm.

Then he turned to your Lover again.

“And who might you be ?”

“My name is GF/n, a pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

“The pleasure is all mine ! The name’s Alastor, the Radio Demon !”, he greeted back happily.

Until now it seemed to go just swell. You cleared your throat.

“Papa...can we talk in private ? You, GF/n and I ? It is...urgent.”

“Why, of course, mon petit !”, he said happily and then teleported the three of you to his Radio Tower.

“So, what do you want to talk about, that is urgent ?”, he asked you.

You wrung your hands in nerves.

“W-well....you remember when we talked about my disinterest in men, when we were alive ?”, you asked nervously.

“I do, indeed ! I said you just didn’t find the right one yet ! Why ? Have you found him ?”

“W-well...it’s more...complicated, Papa...”

He cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“Oh ?”

“You see...I am...not straight...?”

Now he got nervous. What do you mean you are not straight ? He knows you meant that you aren’t Heterosexual, but what are you then, why are you so scared to tell him ?

“Continue...”, he said, his voice softer.

“I never noticed the signs when I was alive, Papa. I found it all out here in Hell and GF/n helped me to figure it all out. Along the process...we fell in Love and it had been going on for months now, we trust each other deeply, so please don’t be mad when I tell you that she knows about you a bit. I always snuck off at night, because I was scared you will be angry with my sexual orientation, so I wanted to keep it a secret until I knew how to approach you. The Hotel didn’t make it that easy and GF/n offered to support me today to tell you, because I vented to her all my worries yesterday and all my stress and Iamalesbian !”, you quickly ranted out, too nervous to speak calmly.

There was a deadly silence in the room, after you finished. Your Father was trying to catch up with everything you just ranted out so quickly. As his brain caught up with what you just confessed to him, there was a loud record screeching sound and he stared at you in shock.

“You are a WHAT ?!”, he asked in shock.

He wasn’t angry, just shocked that you found it out earlier than he did. He didn’t even know until now. You flinched.

“I...I am a Lesbian...Homosexual...”, you got out shakily now.

Your Father sprung up and rushed to you, before you could react and hide somewhere, he pulled you to his chest into a almost bone crushing hug, which shocked and surprised you.

“Oh, Cher, those are such WONDERFUL news ! You finally figured yourself out ! I’m so proud of you !”, he said happily.

“Wait...you...aren’t mad ?”, you asked in awe.

“Why would I be, mon diable (My Devil) ?! These are the best news I have ever heard ! You found love, my Dear ! And you found out your taste ! Who cares if you like the same gender ?! Why were you so afraid to tell me that ?”, he asked, his real voice coming out.

“W-well...we both lived in times where it was heavily frowned upon... I thought you wouldn’t be happy with me and so...I was too scared to tell you. I feared you would disown me...”, you said softly.

“Mon petit diable (My little Devil), I would never disown you, for being yourself. You don’t have to hide anything from me, Cher.”

He then looked at your Lover.

“Can I be assured that you won’t use anything you know against us ?”, he asked her.

“I would never want to hurt my Beloved. I love her with all my soul.”, she told your Father.

He hummed.

“Alrighty then. I am glad that I don’t have to kill you then, for knowing too much.”

“Daaaaaaaaaaaad !”, you moaned out annoyed.

“I had to make sure that she knows that she isn’t safe just because you two are courting.”, he defended himself.

“Don’t chase my Lover away, Papa !”, you scolded and smacked his right arm, playfully.

He chuckled.

“I would never, mon petit. Now ! Would anyone explain to me what in everything unholy and AroAce is ? And why I am supposed to be one ?”, he asked.

You shifted around uncomfortably.

“I will gladly do so.”, your Beloved answered and you all sat down.

Alastor would be shocked from the news.

He would be delighted to see you finally had a Lover.

Would be happy that you finally figured yourself out.

Would support you.

Alastor would be very protective of you and threaten your Lover that she isn’t safe from him, if she fucks up.

He would keep an eye out on you two.

He would never hate you for coming out to him.

Anyone tries to hurt you two, they will answer to him personally.

If the two of you argue, he will try to find the root of the issue and try very subtly to get you back together.

He would support the both of you through everything and anything.

Alastor would help your Beloved to become and Overlord after she proved herself to be worthy of you, to him.

If you two want a biological child, he will help you two out with his Magic. All he would need is a small doll, crafted to look how you want the child to look like and from each of you a vial of blood, then his Magic would do the rest and you would have a Hellborn child.

He would help you raise your kids and be a great Grandpa.

Alastor would rope Rosie in to be their Auntie. Best friends and all that, plus, Rosie loves kids.

If you want to ever marry, he would give you both the green light, as long as he can lead YOU to the altar !

If anyone has a problem with you two being together, let him know. He will gladly have a snack~

You would warm up to your Girlfriend/Wife and show his softer side to her, just give him time. After all he knows you want her to be treated like Family, he just wants to make sure that she is the right one for you.

He would fool around with your Beloved after he warmed up to her and get very protective of her, just like he was with you.

Alastor would help her out in surprising you with small to huge things.

He definitely would gossip with her about anything and everything, even talk about his past with her.

Your Father would put a lot of effort into getting to know her, her getting to know him and to bond with her.

Best Dad in the world, even if he planned to kill your Lover in the beginning.

A/N: I hope this is good and you won't be mad that I also made a Human Version ! At least then no one can demand for it, because it already exists. *Lol* Two flies with one smack !

Masterlist HERE !

#fanfiction #fem!reader #Hazbin Hotel #alastor x child!reader #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #If you had a girlfriend and came out to Alastor – Father!Alastor x Teen!Daughter!Reader #Daughter!Reader #Father!Alastor #Alive!Alastor #Alive!Reader #Demon!Alastor #Demon!Reader

[kisskiss-slashslash]

Slashers when you say “I love you” for the first time

Jason Voorhees

He freezes up and disappears for a while. But don’t interpret that as rejection, please. He is just utterly overwhelmed by the idea that anyone not blood-related to him could ever actually *love* him.

You, of course, are left confused and maybe a little heartbroken by that reaction. Did you do phrase it wrong? Was it too soon? Does he just not feel the same?

He returns a little while later, once he had a moment to process it, and immediately sweeps you up into a backbreaking hug. Good luck getting anything done for the rest of the day, because he won’t let go. Are you hallucinating or is there water dripping from under his mask?

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent knows just enough about love and romance by watching people getting caught in Bo’s charming web, so he sees the signs in the way you are acting around him. Still, when you finally gather all of your courage and confess your feelings to him, he pauses, surprised by how open you are about it.

When you want to start listing all the things you love about him, he takes your hand to stop you, and you see the expressionless mask shift as the mouth underneath curls into a gentle smile.

“So does that mean you feel the same?”, you ask softly.

In lieu of an answer, he gets out a sketchbook that has obviously been recently used, and hands it to you.

You flip through it and find it almost entirely filled with sketches of you, each sketch coming with little notes meant to draw attention to all the little things he loves about you; and there is a lot, from the way your eyes light up when you smile, to the shape of each of your facial features, to decidedly more intimate details.

“Aw man, that makes my confession look kinda lackluster in comparison”, you quip sheepishly and hand the sketchbook back to him.

Freddy Krueger

Be prepared for him to turn it into a joke. “Of course you love me. Look at me. I’m amazing.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m serious!”

“Hi Serious, I’m Freddy.”

“Really? A dad joke?”

“So why are you coming out with this now of all times?”

You open your mouth and close it again a few times. “I don’t know? I just felt like it was about time one of us say something like that?”

“Eh, talk is cheap. The fact that we’re putting up with each other is already enough of a love confession, don’t you think? And that’s way better than all that corny stuff about eternal love or whatever.”

You chuckle, despite being still sort of frustrated at him blowing you off like that. “If you say so.”

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba drops his chainsaw as soon as the words leave your mouth. He looks at you, nervously licking his lips, then clumsily tries to pick the saw up again. The sudden confession has his hands so jittery that he is really struggling though, so you eventually crouch down and pick it up for him.

“Sorry for just saying that out of the blue.” You hand his weapon back to him. “I guess I just… want you to know.”

Now *you* are the one dropping the chainsaw, mostly because you find yourself a foot or so in the air, held up by the vice-like grip of Bubba, who is pressing you against his chest and happily blubbering what you generously interpret as a reciprocation of the confession into your shoulder. Sometimes you really wished you could understand Bubba as well as Drayton did. But then again.. a loving gesture like this doesn’t really need words.

Brahms Heelshire

Self-absorbed as he is, he naturally assumes that you love him, so he doesn’t act too surprised when you tell him as much. Instead, he pulls you into a hug and replies:“And I love you.”

However, the fact that he expected it doesn’t mean that he takes it for granted. In his mind, the love confession is what actually begins a relationship. That’s how it works in stories, after all, and stories were the only real window to the outside world he has had since he was eight. Meaning that now, he views you officially as his significant other, rather than just a caretaker he just so happened to kiss and have the occasional fling with. Which also means that he at least tries to do a bit more for you instead of only ever taking.

The first results of his attempts at being helpful are disastrous, but hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?

#slasher x reader #brahms heelsire x reader #bubba sawyer x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #jason voorhees x reader #freddy krueger x reader

[sapphire-weapon]

So. Here's my thing.

In OG, Cloud couldn't have killed Sephiroth without Rufus. Rufus's call to move the cannon from Junon to Midgar -- as well as his relentless fight against Sephiroth and the Weapons -- resulted in the destruction of the barrier around the North Crater.

And in Advent Children, even though there is no more Shinra, Rufus still has the Turks recover Jenova's head -- which Rufus himself keeps safe on his person, until he personally destroys it.

In the novella The Kids Are Alright (written by Kazushige Nojima, who's writing the remake series), Rufus says:

"My father [...] invested most of [the immense fortune and power he'd gained] into new fields – on a massive scale, and without ethics. And one of those was the research of, and experimentation on, Jenova. Eventually this gave birth to a monster named Sephiroth. [...] My father took his leave from this stage early on, abandoning those of us left behind to suffer the nightmares in his wake. I am not my father. I will bring it to an end, once and for all."

Rufus is a real threat to Sephiroth.

That's why, at the end of Remake, the Whispers make it a point to draw Rufus's attention to the highway so that he can see the bullshittery going on around Sephiroth so that he focuses on that instead of getting lost in the political sauce.

And so when Rufus says during the ending of Rebirth: "I'm onto you. This war's nothing but a ploy to distract me from Sephiroth." and Sephiroth cops to it, this is an acknowledgement of that threat.

So, like. Rufus's motivations are not unclear to me. He used the name Sarruf, funded the Wutai resistance in order to depose his father, and then, once he was in office, saw the existential threat that Sephiroth posed and shifted his attention to that -- partially because he feels a responsibility to as the president of the fucking world, and partially just as a "fuck you" to his dad.

So why not just kill him? Why distract him with a war when you could just fucking kill him?

It made sense why Kadaj never killed Rufus in AC -- he wanted Jenova's head, and Rufus was the only one who knew where it was, so Kadaj couldn't just kill him outright.

But that's not an issue here. So why doesn't Sephiroth just kill him?

This is where the whole "multiverse" meta aspect of the plot completely fucking breaks down, because like -- it's framed, during that ending scene, that Sephiroth is keeping Rufus alive because he believes that Rufus will actually lead him to the promised land, but like

Not only is that weird because, in OG, it's the other way around, and Rufus follows Sephiroth thinking that he'll lead him to the promised land -- but it's weird because Sephiroth's clearly been peeking at the OG script, and he follows Aeris through realities and tells her to accept her fate because he knows she has to die because that's what the OG script says, but like

In that case, wouldn't he also know that the promised land doesn't really exist and/or is either the North Crater or Midgar it's not really clear?

And how the fuck is a war with Wutai going to allow Rufus to stumble on the promised land? He'll be busy fighting a war.

And how the fuck is he going to fight that war in the first place?! HE'S THE HEAD OF THE ARMY OF BOTH SIDES

AND SEPHIROTH KNOWS THIS

Like, I don't understand Sephiroth's motivations here at all. They don't make any fucking sense when you actually sit down and think about them a little bit (as opposed to not at all).

Is he trolling? Is that it? Is Sephiroth just being a big old fucking troll? Doing it for the lulz? Got a nice taste of Rufus's despair when he got infected with Geostigma and was like "mmm delicious daddy issues I wanna go back in time and taste that again"???

It's very stupid. It's very dumb.

#ff7 rebirth #final fantasy vii #rufus shinra #sephiroth #rebirth spoilers

[hellfireswhore]

Insomniac

Carl Grimes x GN! Reader

Summary: Carl grows concerned about you since you guys arrived in Alexandria.

Warnings: language

Pronouns: they/them

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Getting adjusted to new environments wasn’t easy, especially for you. Ever since the prison fell apart, your group has been placed to place every night. You’re exhausted. Then, you were invited to a community called Alexandria

After Rick told the group we’re settling here, you were relieved but uneasy. You didn’t completely trust anyone that wasn’t your family. You held all of your trust in your loving boyfriend, Carl Grimes.

“Hey,” a hand waved in front of your face, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Are you alright?” Carl questioned.

“Oh yeah sorry, I’m good.” Reassuring him. He nods and he turns his direction back to his dad, Rick Grimes, who was holding a meeting for a scavenge.

“Glenn, I’m gonna have you be a getaway driver, you’re good with a wheel.” Rick began looking at Glenn who responded with a nod. “Daryl, I want you to keep watch for anyone or anything who is a threat.” Daryl hummed toward Rick. “And Carl, you’re with me. I’m gonna need help gathering supplies and taking out walkers.” Rick finished and started to wrap up the meeting, leaving you confused.

“Wait, what about me?” You sat up from the table gaining his attention. “I don’t know, Y/N. You’ve been-“ “C'mon, Dad. y/n is one of the best at runs. They barely leave with a mark. Plus, they say you have bad luck without them there.” Carl cut him off. You looked at Rick hoping he’d have you tag along. Carl was right, you were the best at getting in and out at scavenged fast. He signed in defeat. “Alright, fine, you’re with me and Carl.” After that, everyone got ready and headed out of the Alexandrian walls.

———————————

After driving out for what felt like forever, you arrived at an abandoned Pharmacy that didn’t look like it had been touched. Me, Carl, and Rick stepped out of the car while Glenn stayed. Daryl helped us clear out the walkers outside the building while Carl and Rick took care of the ones inside. While they did that, I scanned the area to make sure no one else was there.

“We’re clear,” I spoke towards the Grimes. With that, we went around the store looking for supplies we needed. Deanna gave you the list earlier. You were walking around the isles and suddenly stepped on glass, it was a mirror. “Shit.” You whispered to yourself then you saw yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red.

The state you were desperate to hide is now noticeable: Exhaustion.

“Hey, are you okay?” Carl questioned. You looked up at him, not thinking about him seeing your eyes. “Yeah I just stepped on glass and it startled me, that’s all.” You walked past him continuing your hunting for the supplies, leaving Carl concerned. “Carl, did you find- what’s going on?” Rick asked putting a hand on Carl’s shoulder making the boy turn to the man. “Nothing, Y/N is just acting a little strange today.”

“How so?” Rick asked. “Well, I caught them spacing out during the meeting and just now, they brushed off my question and I noticed their eyes.” After Carl stated that, Rick started to walk towards you, “Y/N,” you turned towards the grown man. “I want you to sit in the car with Glenn.”

“What?! Why?!” You said with an angered tone. “Because I said so, now go.” Rick pointed towards the car. You scoffed and left the store.

“What was that for? They didn’t do anything!” Carl shouted making Rick turn and walk towards him. “Don’t yell. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves. Let’s just finish up in here and get home.” Carl sighed, continuing to help out his dad.

———————————

“Carl, let’s go, the sun is going down and we still have a long drive ahead of us,” Rick said grabbing the bag of all of the supplies they found. Daryl came out of hiding once Rick announced they were done. “Ya got what we need?” Daryl spoke. “Let’s hope. Deanna wasn’t too specific. Let’s head out.” Daryl hummed in response and hopped onto his motorcycle and started the engine waiting for Carl and Rick to get into the car behind him.

Carl hopped into the back seat and saw you. Your head was leaning against the window. He slightly shook your shoulder and noticed you were asleep. Rick got into the passenger seat and turned his head looking at you and back at Carl. “Thank god. Alright, Glenn, let’s get the hell out of here.” With that, Glenn started the car and drove off with Daryl leading.

After a few minutes on the road, Carl broke the silence. “Dad, why did you look at Y/N and said, “thank god?” He spoke. “Don’t worry, it’s nothing,” Rick responded, looking ahead. With that, Carl started to get angry.

“Worry?! I’m concerned! Y/N has been acting weird all day and you’ve been a complete dick to them for no reason!” Yelling at his dad, making Rick turn toward him. “If you’re concerned, maybe you shouldn’t raise your voice while they're sleeping right next to you!” Rick whispered yelling at his son. “Just cut the shit! Tell me! What is wrong with MY partner?!” silence filled the air, so quiet Carl could hear your breathing. “Rick,” Glenn interrupted. “Carl needs to know. He is Y/N’s boyfriend.”

Here’s the thing, Rick sees you as family, especially since you are dating his son and are still a kid to him. He’s secretive for the right reasons, and that’s to protect his loved ones. But, he knew Carl would be able to help you in this situation.

“Y/N…hasn’t been sleeping, at all,” Rick admitted. Carl sat there, waiting for context. “I don’t know why, but I’ve noticed them taking night watch hours on end and even taking others' places. Anything to avoid sleep, they’d do it.” Rick took a breath. “And, when you mentioned their eyes, I knew it had gone on for too long.” He finished.

Carl signed. How could he not have noticed his own lover was struggling?

“Thank you for telling me,” Carl responded after a minute of silence. Carl looked over at you, who was still sleeping. He moved your head to lay it on his shoulder, hoping it would make you relax more than the car window. Relief fell over him when he felt your breathing against his neck, you were finally getting some rest. Then, you started to snore.

“Woah! Didn’t know they snored!” Glenn giggled. Making Rick cackle as well. Carl smiled, “Hey! It’s never this bad!” He jokingly defended. “Just be happy they haven’t heard you. Their usually a light sleeper.” With that response, the grown men quickly shut up. Before this, if anyone would wake you up, hell broke loose.

———————————

You guys arrived back in Alexandria, it was around 11 p.m. Daryl parked his motorcycle and waited for you, Rick, and Carl. Glenn said his good nights to everyone and headed towards his shared house with his wife, Maggie. Everyone was out of the car, except you.

“I’ll wake them up-“ “hell no, man. Are you asking for an ass beatin’?” Daryl intruded on Rick stopping his hand from touching you. “Well, what do you want me to do? Let them sleep in a car that’ll grow humid?” Rick spoke with sarcasm. “I got it,” Carl spoke up.

He then started to lift you up from the back seat and started to carry you, supporting your back and knees. Your body began to adjust to the position and you rested your head on his shoulder. Carl then started to walk towards the front door. “Strong kid,” Daryl spoke to Rick once Carl took you into the house. “like father like son.”

After carrying you up the stairs, he walked into your room and settled you in bed. He removed your socks and shoes and pulled the blanket over you. Once you were settled, he kissed your forehead goodnight and started to leave.

“Carl..?” He turned around and saw you half awake. He thought you looked so cute in that state but he knew you needed sleep. “Hey, it’s okay, just go back to sleep.” He whispered softly putting a hand on your cheek. “Sleepover? Please?” You muffled, holding his hand on your cheek, looking at him with sleepy eyes. He grinned, “How could I ever say no to that face?”

Carl got comfortable and stepped into bed with you. He put his arm over you, spooning you. “I’m sorry…” you whispered. “Don’t apologize, hun. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? Just go to sleep.” You hummed in response and you fell asleep. He kissed your cheek, “Goodnight, my Y/N”

————————————

“Here you go. Got what you needed.” Rick handed the bag of supplies in front of Deanna. She went through the bag and looked at Rick with confusion. “How did you manage to get nothing on the list?” Rick also got confused. “Wait, what list?” “The list I gave to Y/N. They said you shouldn’t have the list because you have bad luck.” Deena chuckled at the end. “I guess you could say that.”

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