#going against him… it was always about him and less about themselves and their lives.

[bestial4ngel]

Okay but the way that so much of their lives revolved around Logan in some way or another. They weren’t close emotionally obviously, but he was always there sort of controlling or morphing their lives somehow with his decisions, his influence, his praise, his money, his disapproval and rejection. There’s a hole in the middle of Waystar now that everyone’s going to be scrambling to fill, but there’s also a similar hole in each of the kids because of how much room in their lives and their minds he had been taking up.

[chaotic-mystery]

PROFESSOR’S PET

Pairing: Art Professor!Joel AU x Teacher Assistant!f!reader.

Summary: Professor Miller wants you to teach the class tomorrow morning & you need help being less nervous. What if he’s the reason you’re nervous, though?

Content Warnings: SMUT 18+ only! MDNI. Age gap but not specified, power imbalance (professor x TA, reader stutters when nervous, academic weapon, teasing, fingering, one (1) pair of panties ripped to shreds, oral (f receiving), spitting, pussy slaps, praise kink, name calling (good girl, sweetheart, baby, smart girl), dirty talk, talking you through it, spanking, condescending a little bit, cum eating, face riding, nasty freaky kisses to share your cum, no use of y/n.

Authors Note: Good morning, babies! This is for @studioghibelli & their fantastic writing challenge. This moodboard was absolutely brilliant. As someone who did not go to college & can’t retain information well, I tried to research as much as I could about art so I hope I did it justice! 🩵 || wc: 2.6k || beta’d by @wannab-urs <333 ily sm gin ||

“You want me to do what?”

It came out more as an exclamation rather than a question but you didn’t care at the moment.

He couldn’t have been serious.

“I want you to teach the class tomorrow about your two favorite artists. That’s all I’m askin’” Professor Miller says, stuffing his papers back into the desk drawer for the night.

“B-but you know I don’t talk well in front of them, I constantly stutter and they don’t respond well to me yet, I-”

“Do you need me to help you with the lesson plan for tomorrow? I can come over and help you write down some notes on what you want to talk about, but I need you to get more comfortable around them. We have a long school year ahead of us, and it’s not going to work if you’re afraid to speak up here.”

He was annoyed having to explain his reasoning, but he was right. Even if you didn’t want to hear you were doing a terrible job as a teacher's assistant. Scratching your head and turning so he can’t see the look of shame on your face, Joel shuffles towards you and hands you your coat off the coat rack.

“It’ll be fine. All you need is a push and you’ll do great. Hurry before we miss the train.”

You nod and take your coat to put it on, the tan fabric becoming darker as you step outside and rain starts to pelt off it. Mr. Miller sighs and hoists his briefcase above his head and takes his other hand to the side of him searching for yours until he finds it and grabs it, guiding you through the raindrops until you get under the stone archway to take a brief moment for the rain to calm down.

“Can’t believe I’ve had you as a TA for almost two years now and have never once seen where you live or even know about you outside of this place.” His finger wags slowly behind his head, indicating he was referring to the school.

“I don’t really like to talk about myself, but my parents made a really good name for themselves. I was put through all the good schools they could toss their money at. I was supposed to go to school to be a lawyer, but I wasn’t interested in the slightest. I told my mom I wanted to study visual arts and she wasn’t too surprised, said I always had an eye for that sort of thing. I want to become a professor here one day but for now I just want to learn everything I can, ya know?” You smile at the ground as you think about teaching here someday and hope it doesn’t come off as dorky.

He’s so much older than you and probably knows so much between art and life. You could only hope to have as much knowledge as him when you become a professor.

“I think that’s amazing honestly. I hope to one day see you as a professor here whenever you feel like you’re ready.”

His grin eases your nerves, and you hear the train coming, taking his hand once more to run to the train stop. Your shoes squeak against the vinyl flooring of the moving cabin until you get to a seat by the foggy window, plopping your bag right next to you with Joel sitting across the small white table that was tattered from all the use.

The train ride to your town wasn’t too long and Joel read almost the entire time, asking you every now and then if you were okay. Once you catch a taxi to take you home, it drops you off right at the black iron gates. He steps out of the sleek black car and is a little taken aback by the size of your house.

“What’s the matter? I told you they had money.” You giggle and push the buzzer on the stone post to the left of you, telling them to let you inside. Almost instantly, the gates push open and you walk along the pebble drive, flinging your book bag over your shoulder as he follows a few steps behind you, taking in the beauty that is your house.

Once you get inside and introduce him to the small group of staff working, they tell you your parents went out for the evening to some charity event and there’s food in the fridge if you were hungry.

The nerves about teaching tomorrow overrode the feeling of being hungry, but you still offered Joel anything he could’ve wanted. He settles with water, and you leave him in the study where he’s content with gazing at the walls covered in full bookshelves about any and everything.

You come back in and shut the rosewood pocket doors quietly, careful not to disturb him from the current book in his hand about astronomy. The way his fingers grazed over the corners of the pages made your stomach tingle just a little bit, the dim lighting from the chandelier glowing a soft yellow on his face as he was entranced by the contents.

Get it together, he’s off limits, you tell yourself.

There was no ring on his finger and he always talked about his lonely weekends, but still. You were his teacher's assistant.

You clear your throat and set his water down on the desk before you turn on the green bankers lamp sitting at the edge of the table. Joel closes the red leather book and looks up at you, noticing the water, and he puts the book back where he found it.

“Thank you.” He raises the glass to you before taking a sip, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallows, and it brings that same feeling as before that you felt in your stomach.

So, give me two of your favorite art pieces and the artist with some facts about them. You don’t have to start from their birth or anything.”

He pinches his slacks right on the thighs to hike them up just a little before he sits down in the wooden chair at the head of the table, his hands on the back of his head as his fingers interlock against his skull.

Focus.

You pace back and forth at the other end of the table, Joel’s eyes on you intently as you fiddle with your fingers, running through the list of artists you tend to gravitate towards.

“I got it. Botticelli.”

“Nice choice. Why him?”

You continue to walk back and forth and sort out which facts about him and his artwork you love to tell people they wouldn’t normally know.

“I love the painting Birth of Venus but um- it’s not technically her birth story, it’s m-more like the story continued after her birth; when she steps off her shell and onto the island of Cyprus. S-she’s being blown onto…” you take a deep breath in and put your head in your hands.

“I’m sorry, Joel.”

You turn away from him and look out the window trying to compose yourself.

“Just take your time, I’ve got all night, kid.”

Turning to face him, he’s sitting straight up now and you can tell he’s listening to every word coming out of your mouth. His dark jacket is tight on his arms and it’s just enough to show the outline of his muscles.

“She’s being blown onto shore by the spring winds which is Zephyr, who is accompanied by his wife, Chloris, who’s also blowing Venus’ shell to shore. Her pose was most likely inspired by an ancient marble statue in the Medici’s collection, which we refer to as the Medici Venus, the first ever nude female sculpture in classical art.”

You manage to recite all of that without stuttering this time and he grins proudly.

“I knew you could do it. Good job. Now, what I want you to do is write down bullet points on this note card with a keyword that’ll spark your mind and draw the facts out of you fluently.”

Your cheeks warm at first and then your brows furrow at his instructions.

“What do you mean, professor?”

“Come here, I’ll show you.”

He scoots his chair back enough so you can stand to the side of him and watch as he scribbles down some words on the lined piece of paper. The red ink flows effortlessly and he pushes it to you, pointing at what he did.

“It’s just a keyword that’ll spark your brain to talk about it. If you write down everything you’re gonna say, it sounds like a robot trying to read it. This way, you won’t get overwhelmed by everything you wanna say and you can sound effortless.”

You nod as the gears in your head turn, the idea making perfect sense now. Reaching out to grab another note card, you bend over to write on it, starting at the top. You feel Joel’s hand on the small of your back very lightly as he watches you write, the pen in your hand moving faster than he’s ever seen.

“The next one is gonna be the technique he used for the painting.”

You write the word ‘technique’ shakily, trying to breathe manually.

“What about his technique?” Joel asks, his hand not moving from your back.

“H-he um, he used the tempera technique, it’s when you d-dilute a raw egg with water and mix watered down p-pigment with it and um-um paint with it.” Your words get breathy and all at once you stand straight up, clearing your throat once more.

“You’re still pretty nervous. Is it me? Am I making you nervous?” The condescending tone in Professor Miller's voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, feeling like you’ve been called out.

“Partially, maybe.” You admit and turn away from him but you don’t move from next to him.

He runs his hand over his scruff and smirks slyly.

“Do you trust me?”

Without hesitation you nod yes.

“Turn around for me.” Joel’s hands grip your hips and spin you around in your spot.

“Now read your little note card for me. Come on, you’ve got this, smart girl.”

That was all you had to hear to make your stomach flip and arousal flood your body. Smart girl.

His hands never leave your hips as he holds you still, subconsciously rubbing the fabric of your skirt on the waistband while you read your notes. You manage to get through half of them before you stutter out and stop again.

“Again, from the top.” He says softly, still holding onto you. Just as you begin to speak, you feel yourself being guided backwards and you don’t stop talking, going with the flow of things.

For the purpose of learning, right?

Joel puts you right against his thighs, his head peeking over the side of your arm to see what bullet point you were on.

“Keep going, you’re doing such a good job.” He whispers as he rubs your back gently.

“Botticelli used the tempera technique, which is when you mix a r-raw egg with water a-and you dilute yo-our pigment with water and mix th-em together.”

His hand ever so slowly moves around the side of your thigh until he’s on the top of it, his thumb dangerously close to the point of no return. Your breaths were getting heavier and you were almost positive he could feel your heart rattling in your body like a caged animal.

“Joel, I-”

“Start it again, and if you stutter I’ll stop.”

His hand dips under your skirt and he nods to your index card, wanting you to restart.

“Well come on, be a good girl for me.” He grunts out and smirks before biting your arm playfully.

You didn’t know how you got here or why he wanted to touch you this way but you weren’t going to stop him. He was a good looking man and god forbid you do something out of your normal routine.

His fingertips dance over your overly excited clit and release some tension for you, and it’s like a key to a gate, your legs spreading more and more with every circle from his middle finger. You continue to talk through his efforts to make you stutter, even when he gets faster and kisses your back.

“Just like that, sweetheart. Next artist, let’s go.” He pushes you up on the desk and splits your legs apart, ripping your panties in two before he takes off his jacket and rolls his shirt sleeves up to his elbows.

“The Swing painted by Jean-Honore Fragonard. It’s said it’s a commission from a man on the court who requested Fragonard to paint him and his younger mistress being pushed on a swing while he watches and admires her-oh my god, Joel, right there, yes, yes.”

His tongue dances against your clit after he spits on it, licking every inch of you just to hear your pretty moans. His hands travel up your abdomen until he gets to your shirt, ripping the buttons apart to see your beautiful breasts. A deep groan against your overly sensitive clit makes your eyes almost roll back into your skull and he slaps your pussy firmly.

“That’s not being a good girl. Did I tell you to stop?”

“No, sir.” You whimper and try to get back on track about the painting you were talking about. His curls tickle against the soft insides of your thighs as he continues, licking feverishly at your clit.

“The brushwork is rapid and it exemplifies the Rococo style of playfulness and elegance” you whimper out and buck against his face, your hand dipping into his hair to tug firmly.

He spanks your ass as he feels your body squirm under him, tugging your legs to rest on his shoulders as he continues to lap up your arousal.

“You’re such a filthy girl, riding your professor's face in your house, naughty naughty girl. Oh, yes, cmon sweetheart, use my mouth.”

You moan his name louder and thank god your sounds are muffled from the rest of the house by all the literature covering the walls. Somehow you finish telling him about the painting and he looks at you as you cry out for more from him, your slick glossing over his mustache.

“Please make me come, Joel. Please, I need you so bad.” You kiss him roughly and try to grab his rock hard bulge but he pulls his hips away and groans loudly on your lips before grinning, going back down to your pussy and moaning against you.

“Come right on my face, right fuckin’ now. Let me taste how sweet you are. I know you can’t handle much more and you don’t wanna disappoint me, right baby?” Joel smirks and flattens his tongue against your clit once more, teasing you and enjoying this just as much as you were.

The burning sensation in your belly starts to spill over and before you can tell him, you grip both edges of the table and come against his face, crying and squirming to get away from him but it only makes Joel pin you down by your wrists and lick harder, tasting every bit you give him.

He licks you clean and kisses his way up your stomach, through the valley of your breasts to your lips, sharing the deliciousness with you. As you come down from your high, the grandfather clock in the corner of the room starts to chime, indicating it was midnight.

“That 7:30 A.M. class is gonna be here before you know it, professor.” You push the damp curls off his forehead and giggle as he stands up tiredly, holding a hand out for you. As you sit up on the table, his hand cups your cheek and kisses you deeply once more.

“You owe me sleep, so much sleep.”

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby [part 3]

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution: NOT PROOFREAD and in this fic the reader isn't a big fan of adam so qwq apologies adam lovers!! nothing against him at all!]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. alastor attends the court but doesn't do much but watch the mess happen tbh qwq sorries. )

(oh and every flashback that will be in almost every chapter will be out of order! but will always include what age the reader was in at the time of that memory!)

(tags: @wildfire153 @nevermorekisses @corvidae-00 @d0nutsaur @baalzie @luujjvi )

It is the day of the court meeting.

You have never been so glad in the entirety of your afterlife that you made so many good connections to higher angels throughout all your years in heaven.

You managed to convince one of your close friends that usually attended these kinds of court meetings to bring you along as a sort of 'extra advisor', an outside opinion of sorts.. with the exception of not speaking out and interrupting the court while it's ongoing and if you need anything to be said to tell it to them and they'll speak out for you.

Apparently this meeting was entirely set up so that the princess of hell could present a hotel as a second chance for sinners who genuinely wish to better themselves and to go to heaven. Personally you thought that hell was simply their punishment to live through due to their sins, they had their chances. But then again you couldn't imagine what hell was like to those who murdered or committed sins they didn't intend to for the sake of their safety and others.. so a part of you understood where she was coming from as well.

Although.. you genuinely hoped she wouldn't use Alastor as an example since he most definitely doesn't regret a single crime he's done on earth.

You followed your friend inside the court room, taking a seat beside them as you looked down below where Charlie Morningstar and the manager of her hotel, who you know found out is named Vaggie, were prepping to present their cause. Suspiciously, Alastor seemed to be running late since the courthouse seemed to be lacking his presence for these few short moments.. which you weren't exactly sure if that was good or bad.

Once everyone was seated and all was quiet that's when the infamous Adam came and flew in, god you hated that man. You questioned how someone like him could be in a high position in heaven with how many things he's done it just peeved you off.. but you never bothered to verbally question it since you didn't want to find out if mortal souls can be fallen as well since for all you knew only higher angels like the seraphims could become fallen.

Ah, and finally Alastor appeared by means of traveling by shadow.. several members of the court hushing and murmuring after seeing the power that particular sinner seemed to have. Unlike them, you only let out a huff of air through your nose as your skin began to grow cold.. feeling nervous at how the court is reacting to your father even if none of them knew of that big fact just yet. Alastor then set himself beside Charlie on her right hand-side, Vaggie on her left.

Once Adam let out his usual annoying comments that you mentally muted out, that's when Sera finally began the meeting.

Guess you're right on time, Alastor.

"We are gathered here today to determine whether or not a soul in Hell, can be redeemed into the heavenly realm by means of this Hazbin Hotel." she spoke, voice full of reason and seemed very professional. She then gave the rest of the court's attention to the princess. "Princess Morningstar?"

The poor girl seemed nervous and Adam's presence didn't seem to help much either. With a sigh she began as well "Thank you, Seraphim."

You felt bad for the girl, the pressure she must be under. She didn't seem evil to you at all.. in fact with what you heard of her so far she more or less seemed to fit in with Heaven quite well. Oh poor thing.

She cleared her throat, "Webster's dictionary defines redemption as--"

"Objection! Lame and unoriginal."

Hearing Adam's voice made you want to scream.

Oh and so did Alastor's right after.

"Oh here now, no need to be so rude." Alastor's voice interrupted, his tone seemingly playful yet serious "How may we even present our case if you won't even let us explain hmm? Now that's no fair."

Adam scoffed, "Pfft! And why even are you here smiley? Don't tell me something as fucked-up looking as you is gonna be the princess's piece of proof for this shitty hotel, aren't you just another sick fuck?" Laughed the man, an ego bigger than heaven itself.

"I am Alastor, host of the hotel and a sort of co-founder of it as well! I can assure you the Princess's cause and ideas, as bizarre as they seem, seem to be developing quite well!

Now if you'll let us continue, we can at least show you the progress of it so far." The deer demon pointed his hand towards Charlie to give the attention to her once more.

Sera let out a sigh and stepped in to let Charlie continue, with the exception of no further dictionary references.

You sighed feeling frustrated, can't they just let her speak and present herself the way she wants to?

The poor girl seemed to skip through several note cards, Adam continuing to nag her about evidence and yada yada. While he complained your eyes landed on Alastor, your father seemingly annoyed and intrigued by this annoying guy as well.

The few words passed around seemed to deafen on you as you stared at him, trying to see what could he be plotting. Was he to use this hotel as a means to cover something, to bring in more victims, to cause more pain? You were unsure.. he seemed to nice about it. Alastor noticed your prying eyes and side eyed you back as well with that shit-eating grin, making you immediately look away back towards the princess to listen to her once again.

"Angel Dust." she exclaimed.

"Oh yeah. The porn demon! He's totally worth being redeemed." Adam's sarcastic comments and actions only made you see him as childish. You never really interacted with him one on one before since you never needed to but you have seen and heard several things.. you didn't think he deserved to be up here.

"Well if you know so much, what do you think it takes to get into heaven?" Adam seemed flabbergasted by her comment, almost stuck on what to say with how many filler words he uses.

You then put your finger under your chin in thought, 'Good question.. what does it take?' you thought up your own deeds, sacrificing your life for another, your everyday general selflessness, you remember always helping others that needed it and always defended your father from people who saw him as nothing but dirt. To you, getting into heaven takes pure selflessness.

Adam sent a golden paper towards Vaggie, her voice announcing what is says. "Act selfless, don't steal, stick it to the man.. Are you fucking serious?"

Alastor interrupted right after " I do believe theres a few more things after that if I do so recall.."

Adam practically ignored him and started boasting about himself again. You could've sworn a migraine was to come onto you. Alastor definetly wanted to let out more witty comments but knew he had to behave on this particular day as well. He felt annoyed but his relaxed attitude and smile never let that slip out for a second, he looked perfectly composed.

Your friend, the court member, gently nudged on your arm as a way to ask you if you're okay without verbally saying it since apparently you have been sighing and huffing constantly when annoyed or simply reacting to something.

"Oh.. sorry.." you mumbled towards them, they whispered that it's okay right after.

"Let's fucking see then." Adam snapped his fingers as Charlie proudly presented Exhibit A. Everyone seemed to watch with interest, you with slight doubt and hope for the best.

------(sorry besties we gotta time skip a bit more into the song portion of the court qwq I don't know what else to write heeere im sorryyyyy)-------------------------

The evidence was nothing but clear, his Angel Dust fellow was truly making progress to redemption, it was clear through actions! Maybe there really is serious hope for him after all.

So why was Sera and Adam so adamant in not going further in this?

Your thinking only amplified when the court around you also asked the same thing, about why this soul isn't in heaven then.

It wasn't until the Princess started questioning them as well where Sera was stopping the questioning.

Emily started singing and her words slowly impacted you and as you lingered on it that it made you look down and gaze down at your father once more, his expression relaxed and now more focused on how the situation is playing our rather than helping out.

Alastor was here for the entertainment and laughs, and this man knew that it was just going to get better from here now.

-------------(passing through the song cuz honestly im unsure of what else to add but I just know alastor is watching this shit show go down and maybe try to defend charlie but in a half-assed sort of way.. love the man.)----------------------

Sera's voiced echoed across the court, finalizing her final verdict which made your legs threaten to get back up from your seat again. "I'm sorry.. but this court finds that there is no evidence souls in Hell can be redeemed."

Nono its not fair, not every sinner down there is evil theres still a few that have potential to be here! The evidence was clear! Progress can be made!..

And to imagine all the sinners they've killed up to now.

Adam cackled and boasted more, threatening the trio to attack their hotel first.

Alastor took this to heart and decided to act a bit irrationally, activating his powers as his shadow grew bigger as a way to threaten him back. The two girls begging him to stop knowing that this will only anger the angels more.

"Whoa--p lucky for you I'm not in the mood to fight right now, bye bye fuckers!" With a cackle Adam opened a large yellow portal which slowly sucked Vaggie and Charlie in as they begged not to leave. Alastor on he other hand dug his heels onto the ground and his tentacles kept him on the floor strong and using his microphone cane as extra security to not fall over from how strong the portal was trying to suck him in.

"Geez you just don't give up do you, fuckin' radio freak." Adam's comment made Lute grab her weapon that appeared in her grasp when she extended her hand out, raising it up to strike Alastor that was already struggling a bit to stay in place.

Sera exclaimed with Emily and the entire court gasping, "Adam that's--"

"ENOUGH!" you exclaimed, jumping down and leaping out of your seat to stand in between Alastor and Lute, become a barrier.

Lute scoffed "Get out of the way, you aren't even supposed to be in here"

"Killing him would just make you as bad as any other sinner down there."

She snarled at your comment, resisting the urge to strike you instead.

You turned around to face Alastor with a pitiful look on your face "Get out of here, go home. You're making this worse than it has to." You took a steps closer to him yet tried to stay put so that the portal doesn't suck you in as well. "Leave, dad." you gave him a smile, as if this is the last time you're going to see him ever again. "Resisting heaven in this way will only make this dangerous for you and me. Go."

Alastor's eyes narrowed at you, taking a glance at Adam behind you who was flipping him off before giving his attention back to his little dove.

Without any words he made his powers relax, the tentacles slowly uncurling from his ankles and he went into the portal with a menacing grin look to the court as if indirectly saying that this won't be the last of him.

With the portal finally closed you then let out a sigh, Adam laughing his ass off. "Seems like you got a shitty case of daddy issues huh! You came from that prick's ballsack too?? Did you cheat your way up here or something?"

'I'm adopted dipshit, could say the same thing about you though' your thoughts were then interrupted by Sera scolding Adam who then calmed down and flew off himself away with Lute beside him, so did the rest of the other court angels.

You turned to look back up at her too, an obvious look of disappointment adorning her face for being in a place you weren't even meant to be in the first place.

"_____." her voice made you feel small, "I will discuss with you later about the.. decisions you took today, but now theres more important things coming towards our way. Your apparent father... being a good example of what we need to protect ourselves from." She then proceeded to turn to Emily, talking to her in her own gentle way.

You sighed in defeat, although you didn't see Alastor do anything terrible he almost was about to do something he could have possibly regretted.

You flew yourself out of the court room to the entrance of the courthouse, deciding to walk by foot to blow off some steam.

The extermination was set to happen in a month, that'd give you enough time to prepare..

Nonono-- you can't actually be thinking to go to hell in disguise, help the princess, defend her against the angels in another disguise so the angels don't recognize you then go back home like it's nothing.

Right?

Oh god you were crazy enough to do all that huh. Even when the stakes of winning aren't high at all? When you could die?

Well, dying seems better than living in a hypocritical heaven that was more unfair and unkind as it seemed. Yes you love your friends and your people but.. how could the higher ups be alright with so much massacre and murder at their command, they were just like Alastor to you if anything.

You understood Charlie's cause and are willing to stand up for it.

You didn't want to become a fallen if it was possible.. but you couldn't sit here and do nothing.

You may or may not also be doing this to keep your dad safe, even though unbeknownst to you he was one of the strongest overlords in hell and was powerful as fuck, you would excuse this 'care' you have for him by saying you just want him to serve his eternal punishment for his crimes and not have the second easy way out.

"Fine. Let's get to work."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alastor was currently holding you by the hand as you both walked back to your home. It was an aggressively rainy day in New Orleans with the raindrops falling like hail, various people running or walking through the rain. You and Alastor were just strolling through with him holding up an umbrella to give you both some kind of shelter.

With you being your two year old self you couldn't help but to playfully kick the water on the ground, it irked Alastor a bit but didn't say much until you then decided to jump on a big puddle to make a huge splash.

"Now _____, I hope I don't have to ask you one more time after this. No jumping on puddles so aggressively, at least only when you're playing but right now we are getting home dear. We mustn't have you catch a cold so soon." He spoke sternly, giving you a smile to make you not feel as if he's mad at you.. at least not entirely.

"Sowy.. " you spoke, your intended word coming out differently than you intended at first but Alastor understood your baby yapping just fine.

"Good girl, just don't do it as much now."

Then you stopped doing it but you still enjoyed watching the ripples in the water.

Once you two got home Alastor took his large coat off and set it on his coat hanger, placing the umbrella in a cane holder and and kneeled down to your level to then take your own rain coat and softer coat off and hung them as well, guess just maybe he seemed to care more than he led on with how he double coated you to stay warm.

He then took off your little rain boots as well and set them beside the door, after that you then immediately skedaddled away with a smile on your face to your room. Alastor sighed as he then went to remove his shoes and set them beside the door, exchanging them for cozy slippers that were waiting for him next to your rain boots as well.. thing is you ran off before he was able to have you put on your own matching pair of fluffy slippers for the cold.

He grabbed them for you as he then headed to you room to find you, assuming you were playing he expected a mess but instead you bumped right into his legs! He looked down and saw that you covered yourself in one of your warmest blankets that he recently bought you for the raining season.

"____, dear you're dragging it on the floor." He sighed a little before picking you up and covering you well with the blanket "Let's head over now, we have some music on the radio to listen to for the rest of the day."

He walked over to the living room and set you down on the sofa. This time as you were set down he also covered the blanket around you even more.. basically turning you into a baby burrito so you'd stay extra warm. He then turned on the radio to play some more classical and softer jazzy tunes before grabbing a newspaper he set down that early morning, setting himself beside you and continuing where he left off.

Despite being trapped in the warmth you couldn't help notice something weird, odd, even to you as a toddler. "Papa.." you babbled.

"Yes, dear?" he spoke with his eyes still glued on the words on the page.

"Red..red." you continued on, wiggling an arm out to touch the sleeve of his dress shirt.

"Hm?.." he hummed as he slowly went to look at what you were pointing.

Oh..

Right, yes, red.

"Ah.. yes.. I must've bumped into paint dear don't worry about it. " he gave you a gentle pat on the head before hastily setting the paper back down again and walking over and around the sofa to head to his room "Be a good girl and stay right where you are, I'll be right back." he exclaimed while leaving.

He let out a long sigh as he then aggressively opened his closet doors to change out of his bloodied dress shirt with a large red hand print smeared on his arm sleeve.

How did he not notice that.. that was too close. You wouldn't understand but he could only hope that no other person saw it.

No one better have saw it.

You were still in your blanket cocoon, too comfortable to move out of it. Hearing the tunes only made you relax even more, oh how you loved it.. the sound of rain even made the experience better to you somehow.

"Blabla.. bleh.. pluh.." you babbled in a sing song way from all the music you listen to. You then proceeded to get bored.. easily.

You wiggled your way out of the blanket to then grab the paper that Alastor left, staring at the front page of it.

Of course you couldn't read for shit, but it's good you couldn't since it's front headline is definitely- something..

'BREAKING NEWS: LOCAL POLICE HAVE FOUND EIGHT MORE BODIES IN LOCAL RIVER BANK. COULD THIS BE NEW ORLEAN'S NEWEST BOOGEYMAN AT WORK?'

"_____, don't touch papa's things sweetheart." Alastor popped out of nowhere and gently tugged the newspaper form your tiny hands. "you can barley read as well, don't tell me you want to start reading the news at your little age." He sat beside you, his signature smile shining as always.

In the end, you snuggled closer to him and slowly felt asleep on him as he continued on reading and relaxing now.

Half an hour passed and he finished reading the paper, enjoying a few parts here and there about it. He closed the thin pages to then look down at you leaning on his side sleeping and huddled in your blanket, in peace.

Ah, how cute. He never was a huge fan of kids, in fact he would've given you away long ago at this age.

But it's small moments like these that made him want to keep you longer, the small and peaceful ones, the ones where you two bonded over things you two enjoyed equally. It's gotten to the point where almost couldn't imagine life without his daughter in it.

Oh god, he's grown soft.

This isn't him, it couldn't be. He's heartless, lacks empathy.. he really does.

But when it comes to you it's like it reverses even for a few moments.

His smile widened as he then gently grazed your head with the back of his hand to avoid waking you up.

He started to mumble to himself, "You see.. a boy would have been the son of another family, but you ______ Altruist.. shall be mine." He spoke softly, a sight to behold from Alastor who is known for anything except soft.

Oh but you were his little girl, his daughter, not by blood but unfortunately he accidentally let himself get attached and now he is proudly your father.

He won't ever admit it, even if threatened with death, but he'll always know that in his sick and dark soul his baby girl was his light. This is why he decided to never let you know about this part of himself that he indulged in without shame.

If only his mother were to see him now, she'd be so proud of Alastor that he has at least made a proper human connection. That he's given her a granddaughter.

Oh if only, only she were here now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(thank you for reading everyone! sorry if this chapter seemed a bit lazy or smth qwq I was mostly unsure of how to have alastor and the reader pop in here in there throughout the trial since I wanted to stay true to the show as well but we’ll get more of them very soon!

most likely there will be two more parts after this and it’ll be wrapped up! i will not promise an entirely happy ending for al and his kid tho😭 still deciding on it)

[dollfacefantasy]

cherry-flavored, heart-shaped ♡

billy butcher x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, blowjob, deep throating this man robs me of my ability to write coherently

He was such a fucking cliché, and he couldn't stand it. 

Billy Butcher was better than this. Well maybe not better, but he was supposed to be smarter than this. He was smarter than the skeevy old pervs who got themselves wrapped around a twenty-something's finger when she batted her eyes or pulled out a pouty lip. That stuff didn't work on him. He'd been married for Christ's sake. He'd been around the block, and it would take a lot more than a cute girl to make him cream his jeans.

But saying all that and living it are two different things. Acknowledging that he hated this didn't make the fact that Billy's eyes were locked on your mouth right now any less true. It didn't absolve him of the festering obsession he felt over the way your plush lips suckled on that cherry red lollipop.

A cherry lollipop. Heart-shaped no less. It was pathetic really, and he knew it.

By this point, he'd surmised you had a bit of an oral fixation. Whenever you weren't running your mouth about this or that, the orifice was always occupied; chewing gum, nipping at the skin of your knuckles, sucking on some of those hard candies you seemed to have on you at all times. It was pretty cute if he was being honest.

He couldn't deny the fact that it endeared you to him, especially not when you were sitting like you are now, sprawled across the couch, legs in his lap, eyes on the tv while your tongue propelled the sweet candy back and forth between your lips.

He wasn't exactly sure what the two of you were. You'd fucked a handful of times and seemed to spend more time with each other than you did anyone else on the team, but those weren't terms of a relationship. He didn't think you two were 'boyfriend-girlfriend' as you had so gracefully put it when you asked him, but you were also more than just some random hookup he'd forget about the next day and recall years later.

Wherever your relationship stood, he knew it was close enough that he could do what he was about to. His fingers wrapped around your ankle, and by the leg, he tugged you closer to him on the couch.

He shakes his head at the way you laugh and climb into his lap, but he gets you situated on his thigh all the same. You lean back against his chest like it's the most natural thing in the world. Your eyes were on the tv, but it was clear in your eyes that your head held no thoughts regarding the VNN broadcast.

"You must really like that thing the way you're suckin' on it," he grumbles teasingly in your ear.

"Mhm. You wanna taste?" you ask, sliding the hard candy from between your lips.

Your fingers pinch the thin white stick between them and wave it in front of his mouth. The glow of the tv lets him see how it glistens with your saliva.

Wordlessly, he parts his lips and takes the taste you offered. You giggle as he does, watching the whole time as he sucks on your candy. Your cherry-flavored spit mingles with his taste buds; sickeningly saccharine, but he can't get enough. He can already feel himself starting to grow stiff in his pants.

A particularly hard suck pulls the ivory twig away from your fingertips. You go to grab it, but he grabs your wrist first.

"Hey-" you start to whine.

"You're right, s'pretty good. Think I'll have some more of it," he taunts with that grin of his, the candy slotted between his teeth and inner cheek.

"Give it," you insist and try to reach for it again.

It's easy to subdue you though. He manhandles you into being still on his lap with a simple hold on both of your wrists.

"You still need something in that mouth, don't you?" he teases, "Need something to suck on or you get restless?"

You nod, and as your head is still moving, two of his fingers rise to your lips and replace the lollipop. He pushes them in, resting the thick digits on your tongue. It catches you by surprise. You'd had his dick inside you before, but somehow this felt more intimate. Once your brain registers the feeling completely, you gently suck on them as you had the hard candy.

"Good girl," he croons with a gleam in his eye. His fingers slide over your tongue, gliding back and forth in the warm wet embrace of your mouth.

It fascinated him, the way you seemed so content to just sit there and suckle on his fingers as a suitable replacement. It was that moment that spawned his desire to go deeper.

Only a few days later, his cock replaced his fingers. No longer were you perched in his lap, but rather kneeling between his legs. He pets your head as you look up at him with glossy eyes and your mouth curved into an O around his shaft.

"There you go, love. You got it. Start easy," he directs.

You pull back a bit and lap at the tip. The point of your tongue flicks against the beads of precum oozing from the head. It swipes at the ridge before you wrap your mouth around it in full again. Both his and your eyes flutter shut at the tender pull of your lips.

"Just like that. You know what you're doing," he praises.

His cock was much bigger than his fingers. Longer and fatter. It was a win win - you got your oral urges satiated through satisfying him. It took more work, but you were determined to have as much of it as you physically could. You push your head down more, working it further into your mouth. You suck with slightly more pressure. Your hand rubs the part you couldn't yet reach.

You'd been making progress over the last few days. You hadn't managed to get it all yet, but you'd made it pretty far down. He just made you start at the beginning each time.

"Such a fast learner. Soon enough you'll be able to take it all down in one go," he groans.

His head tilts back against the couch. He enjoys every moment of your tongue pressing on the underside of his cock, your saliva coating every inch that fits in your mouth.

You take another inch down your throat. You can feel your gag reflex start to flare up, but you try your best. Your best isn't good enough though because a gag rolls through you and globs of spit dribble from your mouth.

He swoops in for the save with two fingers under your chin, guiding you back off. He's smiling while looking down into your watery eyes.

"Don't want you gettin' too messy, pup," he teases and swipes some excess spit from your lips.

You gaze up at him with nothing but pure adoration in your glossy eyes. Reaching out, you grab his length again for a few tentative strokes.

"Catch your breath first. Then you can try again," he says and rubs his thumb over your cheek.

"Want more though," you mumble and lean back in.

Despite your need, you do recognize that you need a break. So instead, you go lower than before. You lap at his balls with the most gentle touch you can manage. Your tongue’s strokes are feather light, almost exploratory. They're heavy, the skin is soft, you can hear his breath hitching every time you come close to the sensitive area.

With as much care as possible you take one into your mouth. Then the other. Your hand still fists his dick above before letting it slap against your face. His thighs tense up with restraint, the sight of you in such a compromising position arouses him to no end. He's sure the sight of his cock resting against your nose while your lips cup his sack will be burned into his brain till he takes his last breath.

A few moments later, you release him and bring your mouth back to his tip. You take him in again, sliding down to the position you had before.

"Fuckin' hell," he mumbles and sinks back into the couch again. His hand runs through his own hair as he suppresses the urge to buck into your mouth and fuck your face.

You take it like a pro, your nose ghosting over the swath of hair on his pelvis. You breathe in and out through your nose, rhythmic and calm just like he'd taught you. Your throat contracts and releases as you swallow him a bit deeper. You almost have it. A small gagging noise leaves you, but you have it under control.

He pets your head again, encouraging you with the touch. "Such a good girl for me, making me feel so good. Takin' care of me just like you were made to," he grunts.

You close your eyes and focus. You were gonna get this. 

You bring your hands to hold his hips for leverage and try to nuzzle yourself closer to the base. His tip sinks into your throat, but you stay relaxed. It felt foreign and different, but you wanted it more than anything in this moment. Your knees dig in the ground, steeling yourself to continue.

"That's it. There you go. 'm so proud of you," he mutters through clenched teeth.

That last sentence is all you need. It's like a key you didn't even know existed. It slots into your brain and unlocks the part of you that allows you to take the remaining part of his cock into your mouth.

Your nose is now nestled against him, your eyes barely able to reach his since you can't tilt your head much. He moans, deep in his chest. His hands come to the sides of your head to hold onto it in a similar manner to how you held his hips.

"Right there, fuck. Right there, my little love," he grunts and keeps you in position.

It's an adjustment, but once you're comfortable with it, it doesn't seem like such a big deal. You swallow around him again, ripping another low moan from his esophagus.

After your small period of adaptation, he cautiously pulls your head up and then pushes it back down. His hips rock a bit off the couch to meet the snug warmth of your throat. The face-fucking starts slow, but soon enough a steady symphony of gags and gulps fills the room. 

"Think you're a natural at this, sweetheart," he chokes out, "Pretty thing like you."

His chest puffs with ragged breaths as he thrusts into you over and over. Your nose mashes against his bush and delicate tears roll down your cheeks. He feels his lower half tightening up, and he knows the end is near.

"Gonna cum, love. You ready? You gonna swallow it all like a good girl for me?" he asks, breaths turning into pants.

"Mhm," you whine around the dick sliding in and out of your mouth.

His fingers press against your face as his hips buck and his heels dig into the ground. A long, pleasured groan falls from him, and he cums, shooting hot, sticky ropes down your throat. You swallow it as it fills you, humming against his shaft.

He gently pumps it in, keeping himself deep inside until he's thoroughly sated. Only then does he slide you back and let you off of him. Strings of saliva hang from your lips which you lazily wipe away.

The both of you catch your breaths from the two opposite experiences. The first time you blew him, he thought you'd want him to return the favor right after, but just like now, that never seemed to be the case. You'd get yours before the night was done, sure. But right now, you got what you wanted by crawling up into his lap and melting against your chest.

He holds you close, pecking the space below your eyes and the tip of your nose. He whispers to you about how sweet you are and what a good girl you can be. You're nice and settled in his lap, curled up as he switches the channel from VNN to something more pleasant.

Before you really get comfortable though, you lean forward and pull something from your handbag on the table. Back against his chest, you tear the plastic away from another one of those lollipops and shove it into your mouth, gently sucking as your cheek squishes against his chest. The heart-shaped candy rests on your tongue while your ear presses on his chest and takes in the steady beat of his heart.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hi!! could you maybe write for being the younger sibling of dipper and mabel? maybe the reader is like, 9/10 y.o i wonder what they're sibling relationships would be as well as they're relationship with stan and ford

They say a bond between twins is a bond unlike any other, but didn’t mean that dipper or Mabel cared about you any less then they did each other, you were their baby sibling and they were always going to have your back no matter what.

Dipper would be the protective older brother who’s sometimes come across as strict and would often forbid you from joining him and Mabel on monster hunts, stating that you were too young to be doing something as dangerous as hunting monsters.

You’d naturally respond with the fact that technically he and Mabel were also too young to be going head on into monster hunting too, so thereby making the statement redundant and him look like a hypocrite. To which Dipper would agree with you on but still would tell you it was too dangerous for you, he only wants to keep you safe but you had too much of a stubborn spirit to be easily swayed into staying put.

Mabel on the other hand was the chill sibling who’d let you join in the monster hunting any day because she didn’t want you feeling left out. After all it was kinda a family thing to hunt the unknown of gravity falls at this point, so she didn’t see why you shouldn’t come along with her and Dipper because as long as you had the journal with you, you were fine.

You tend to argue with dipper more than Mabel but that’s because dipper tended to take himself too seriously as your older brother while Mabel doesn’t take herself seriously enough. So whenever you and dipper did argue, Mabel tended to be the peace keeper between the two of you or use Waddles as a distraction from your arguing to come together.

Despite all this you, Dipper and Mabel were loyal and faithful to one another that there wasn’t anything any of you wouldn’t do for the other.

Dipper would give up everything to keep you and Mabel safe as he knew you and her would do the same and you did on multiple occasions, saving each other’s lives and so on. You all headed into the unknown together, never once thinking of leaving the other behind because if one of you were to go down, the other two would rush to your side and pick you back up.

You helped dipper decode stuff and listen to him drone on about Wendy from time to time while playing dungeons, dungeons and emore dungeons with him and Grunkle Ford.

You’d help Mabel bedazzle everything in sight and spend time with her, Candy and Grenda on the odd occasion of doing karaoke with her and grunkle Stan whenever the occasion calls for a bit of fun.

You were best friends with Dipper and Mabel as much as you were siblings and that was the best kind of relationship you had.

Also if Mabel had waddles then you have a pet raccoon or maybe an axolotl like Ford once did.

If dipper was similar to Ford

And if Mabel was similar to Stanley

Then you were the perfect balance of both of them. Stubborn and sometimes silly like Stan but curious and observant like Ford.

Stan and Ford could clearly see bits and pieces of themselves in you like they could with Dipper and Mabel, with the only difference being that you weren’t a twin nor had a twin but that didn’t stop either Grunkle from wanting to spend time with you.

They had to play rock, paper, scissors against one another to see who’d get to spend time with you first, only for Stan to come out the victor.

Stan would teach you how to box first and foremost so that if anyone tried anything with you, they’d get decked in the face from a vicious right hook. He just wants you to be able to protect yourself even if you were only 9/10 it didn’t make a difference to him really.

Teaches you on how to con people out of their money, lie effortlessly and make quick get aways or even how to get out of handcuffs without trying. Did he once give you a fishing hat with your name stitched on it for the soul purpose of taking you fishing with him when Dipper was with Ford and Mabel was with Candy and Grenda? Yes, he wanted something only you and him could do together that was just yours and his.

Cuz it was either that or commit arson and or property damage to other competitors.

Now with Ford he’ll probably have you be outside with him and documenting strange looking mushrooms and or flowers that you’d come across. It sounds boring but it’s quite fun if you came across fairies and the like, however the moment Ford sees that you were about to fall into a Fae trap, he’s picking you up and getting you as far away from it as he could.

Just like Stan, Ford wanted something that was just for you and him, sure he and Dipper go monster hunting, and he and Mabel dressed up as witches once, but he wanted something he could do with just you.

You’d bond over the fact that you both had/have a pet axolotl.

You and Ford probably took a break from your joint documenting to make flower crowns for one another while having a small picnic in the woods. It was peaceful and relaxing to you but Ford was keeping an eye out to make sure nothing would disturb your little picnic, while looking as menacingly as he could with a cute flower crown on his head.

If you both found a flower that was never seen before, you can bet your ass that Ford is naming it after you, no questions asked.

Stan and Ford are just as protective of you as they are the twins and they can and will step in between you and whoever is making you uncomfortable, all the while keeping you safely behind them as Stan whips out his brass knuckles and Ford shows off the gun on his hip in a silent threat.

Nobody messes with their family and they’ll make sure that message is loud and clear.

Bonus; Bill would probably try to manipulate you into thinking that neither dipper, Mabel, Stan or Ford cared about you cuz twins will look out for each other always but you were the spare sibling that gets forgotten, Insisting Stan and Ford’s brother as reason as to why but you knew your family better then a sentient one eyed triangle did and know that your family would always come through for you time and time again.

And they have and they always will no matter what.

[kiapet2]

Alright, it’s less than a week since the Owl House finale aired and as expected I’ve already seen two direct comparisons to Steven Universe’s ending and several more vague-blogs, because one of this site’s hobbies is using other queer shows to put down Steven Universe. So let’s do this, then. Let’s compare the endings of Owl House and Steven Universe, and what each is ultimately trying to say.

Steven Universe and the Owl House are both shows that deal heavily with the clash of individualism and self-expression vs. socially-mandated conformity, and both shows’ final villains ultimately embody this conflict. One major difference, however, is that Owl House approaches this from the perspective of legal/societal structures, while Steven Universe approaches it from the perspective of family structures.

Steven Universe has always been about family--and particularly the ways traumas and biases are passed down through a family--and it has always heavily used the language of metaphor to discuss these topics. The Diamonds are the ultimate extension of this theme, something a lot of bad-faith (or just bad) takes on the ending miss; they interpret the diamonds in their literal capacity as dictators, rather than the way Steven Universe always portrays them, which is as matriarchs, i.e. the heads of a family who dictate and control all the family’s other members. This metaphor becomes more and more blatant until it outright becomes text, with the Diamonds turning out to be Steven’s literal family members, with whom his part of the family is estranged because of their previous controlling behavior.

In accordance with this theme, we ultimately find out that the Diamonds’ toxic ideology, with its rigid standards of perfection, are not only something they enforce on the gems below them, but also on themselves. They are suffering from the system in their own ways, unable to live up to the standards they themselves created. And who among us hasn’t known someone like that? A parent or grandparent who grew up under a cruel, oppressive worldview, and instead of rebelling against it internalized it--who turned around and said “I dealt with this, and so can you”? And so the ending of Steven Universe is the Diamonds realizing exactly how toxic the rigid ideology they’ve spent their lives perpetuating really is, and confronting the fact that their adherence to this ideology is what destroyed their relationship with Pink, and that the only way they’re going to have a relationship with Steven is if they’re willing to commit to changing both themselves, and the family structure they’ve enforced for so long.

Emperor Belos, in contrast, is not suffering from the structures he created, because his rules were never meant to apply to him. He sees the witches (and demons, and so-on) as lesser beings, evil beings, who exist to be controlled, and ultimately, exterminated. And every element of the society he built--the schools, the government, the police force, the religion--he intentionally constructed to keep these lesser beings under his control. The real-world allegory isn’t hard to see, here. And because what Belos represents in the story is, in fact, a fascist leader, the story shows that he can’t be reasoned with in any way that matters, and instead he is ultimately ground into paste beneath the boots of the people he sought to destroy. Different themes, different endings.

Now the usual argument that comes up here is as follows: but the Steven Universe ending isn’t as realistic! Not everyone is going to change, not everyone is going to be able to be reasoned with. Not every older, conservative family member is eventually going to accept you for who you are. And while that is true, ultimately SU isn’t meant to be realistic; it’s meant to be a power fantasy. Rebecca Sugar has come out and said before that they wrote a world in which there was good in everyone, because that’s the way she wishes the world could be. That’s the world they want to be able to believe in. And I am never going to begrudge a person, much less a queer person, for finding healing in writing that kind of world.

But you know what else is unrealistic? What else is ultimately just a fantasy? Grinding your government’s fascist leader into paste under your boot, then taking over and remaking society into something that accepts everyone. Sadly, Trump is not likely to get his ass beat any time soon. And more generally, punching fascists, while ideologically sound, is something most people are not going to get to do, due to real-world consequences such as “getting beat up by the fascist’s angry friends” and “being arrested for assault”. And even if you did depose one leader, our very society is set up in a way that perpetuates all manner of injustices, and systemic change is a complex and lengthy process that almost certainly won’t be completed in our lifetimes. But it’s fun to imagine we could, isn’t it?

Both endings are power fantasies. Both show the way they want the world to be, rather than the way it is. They are very different power fantasies, which fill very different--and at times conflicting--needs. And in situations like that, internet culture really likes to pick one to be the right fantasy, the right way to look at the world. 

But the truth is, both fantasies are needed! Some people need stories about your queerphobic relatives finally realizing the error of their ways and taking the necessary steps to accept and reconcile with you. And some people need stories where you get to grind fascist bastards beneath the heel of your boot. It’s okay if you prefer one type of fantasy over the other! But in the end, both are valuable, and both are important. 

And isn’t it wonderful, for us to have such a diversity of great queer stories? That we can explore both of these deep, conflicting needs? Let’s appreciate each of these fantastic works for what it was meant to be, rather than trying to pit them against each other or make them conform to a single, “best” way to tell a story.

[bountycancelled]

decisions

luke castellan x child of hecate!reader

requested: yep! I hope you like it anon

warnings: allusions about death, but no character dies.

content: yall, it's 1 am rn, and I just wanna go to sleep. it's unedited and nothing bad happens I promise. I'll do a proper content thingy in the morning. pls enjoy while I pass out.

"you know those kids are probably gonna have nightmares for at least a week, right?"

you didn't need to turn to know who was behind you as you leaned against a tree trunk, toying with a twig in your hands. Luke castellan seemed to have an affinity for interrupting you anytime you found solace in being alone. you didnt know how he just... knew, when and where to find you during times like these, but he always did. you found yourself minding his presence less and less as time when on.

"they should consider themselves lucky, I was debating whether or not I should just summon a ghost for them tonight, but I figured they couldn't handle it, and this camp doesn't have any trauma counselling so." the leaves on the twig in your hand withered at an accelerated place in your hands, and a part of you felt bad. you usually kept your distance from anything living since you knew your touch had the possibility of having an adverse, and sometimes deadly affect, but tonight was just one of those nights.

Luke chuckled at your words, plucking one of the now wilted leaves from the twig in your grasp as he spoke up once more. "you know, I actually want you to help me with something, if you don't mind. I need help deciding whether or not I should do something."

you rolled your eyes, giving him a pointed look. "you know I can't make decisions for you. I don't have the ability to know what consequences you'll have to deal with."

"isn't hacate the goddess of crossroads?" Luke countered, a small smirk on his face. you knew that he was only pestering you because he thought it was funny that you always needed to explain your abilities and your godparent to people, but you couldn't just keep silent at his bait nonetheless.

"that doesn't make me some kind of fortune teller, I can't decide for you which direction to go to when you reach a fork on the path. I just have a vague understanding over what you're currently debating if you should do."

"okay okay, no fortune telling. but can you at least point me in the right direction? it doesn't matter how vague." he asked, and you tilted your head to stare up at the starry sky, because you knew that even in the dark, Luke could convince you to help him with nothing but a pleading glint in his deep eyes.

he didn't relent at tour silence or your avoidance of his gaze, uttering a small "please?" which finally broke your resolve.

you took a deep breath, finally looking at him once again, your face deep in concentration. "not a guide either. but I get the sense that... if you don't do what you're thinking of doing, you'll regret it." you felt a bit lightheaded afterwards, but the tree you were leaning against was enough security for you.

Luke on the other hand didnt seem to think so, showcased by how his hands immediately went to your shoulders in an effort to keep you up, while also unintentionally coming closer. a bit too close for comfort, but you were too foggy for the lack of distance to hit you yet.

he nodded at your advice, biting his lip before speaking once again, not missing the way your eyes flicked towards his lips and then back to his eyes, almost instantaneously.

"then I'll just go ahead and say it, I like you. a lot." he had expected a few different reactions, you immediately jumping into his arms and accepting his confession (his personal favourite hypothesis), you shyly stating that you felt the same way, you being shocked that he had feelings for you at all (he liked to believe that he wasn't entirely obvious) but he didn't expect what you did next.

instead, you blew air from your nose, giving him a look he couldn't quite place. "you have horrible taste. and you're also delusional. we've had maybe 4 conversations the entire we've known each other, and you like me?" you rolled your eyes, shaking your head at the words you were about to utter. "but I guess that makes me delusional too, because I feel the same way."

he pouted at your words, feigning hurt with a hand placed on his chest. "you wound me. if I had known you were gonna be this mean... I would've confessed sooner." he added with a slight smirk, trailing his other hand from your shoulder down to your waist, leaning his face towards yours.

you were quick to shut down his advance, maneuvering your way out of his hold. "one thing you're gonna need to get used to, castellan. no touching. at all. at least, not until I'm sure I can control my ability. you have a goodnight though." you called out as you walked away from a now needy Luke, leaving him leaning against the tree.

he quickly followed after you, trying to plead his case. "no touching? that's insane, how could I not touch you? I'm not afraid of death, especially if it comes from my hands on your body, or vice versa. I'll happily forfeit my life for a kiss. come on, I'm fine with just a peck. actually, no. I take that back. if I'm gonna die, we need to make out before I go."

you simply shook your head, reiterating your rule, unable to stop a grin from forming on your face. you stopped abruptly, turning to face him with a serious look in your eyes. "... okay. but just a peck. im serious."

it was not just a peck. but luckily, Luke made it out alive. (though, he seriously wouldn't have minded if he didn't.)

[cow-smells]

Perv! Sanji hc's

Word count: 710

Warnings: sanji being a major creep, dubcon, drunk reader, im not great at warnings so just know this has dark themes and if that's not your jive, its best to skip this one

A/n: honestly and seriously, im embarrassed to have written this. the character of sanji and actor taz live rent free in my head. it is an issue. i will be seeking council

He doesn’t become obsessed with you immediately after you join the crew. He’s after you the same way he is after any other woman, but the more he gets to know you, the less interested he is in other women until eventually, you’re the only one he sees.

And when I say obsessed, I mean the man is OBSESSED.

You could do no wrong in Sanji’s eyes. Every little thing you’d do, he’d fawn over and praise you for

It certainly didn’t hurt that you were receptive to his wandering hands when he would praise you

He took it upon himself to teach you to cook. Whenever you’d manage to improve your skills or make something tasty, Sanji would pick you up in an excited hug, he was so happy you were learning from him

And when he’d put you down from said hug, his hands always somehow found themselves on your bottom, squeezing, pushing you against him

The kitchen was his favourite place to be with you

There was a lot less space to move around than there was in the kitchen at the baratie, but Sanji didn’t mind; it just gave him a reason to have his hands on your waist anytime he needed to move you around – he loved how easy it was for him to control you like that

And whenever he needed something from a shelf above the counter where you stood, it was an excuse to cage you in, grinding his groin over your bum

Sometimes he’d use the fact he knew you were busy in the kitchen or someplace else on ship to allow himself in to your room

He’d smell your sheets, imagining waking up in them with you

Ruining them with you

He’d never leave your room without a souvenir

His favourite? Your used panties

He’d settle for a washed pair if you didn’t have any used ones but he just loves them used

It’s the closest to your cunt he could get right now

Sanji would spend those nights jerking off with your panties in hand, cumming in to them, thinking about you wearing them after

He once heard you whisper to Nami that you kept losing your underwear. Nami threw a glance at Sanji’s direction, but didn’t voice her suspicions

So Sanji learned to wash them and put them back, and it was actually nicer than keeping them. He liked thinking that you indirectly had his cum on your cunt

Any time Sanji would see you having any type of positive interaction with Zoro, the jealousy would send him up the wall

His frustrations would manifest themselves in extra-intense fighting with Zoro and being a lot less subtle with his perving on you

After he’d have a fight with zoro, he’d go to you for comfort

He liked to hug you from behind, acting upset and in need of your care, but really he just liked how you’d let his hands wander to your breasts

If he felt really bold, he’d let his hands snake under your shirt or your skirt

If you’d try to push him away he’d play up how distressed he was about whatever happened, he knew you have a soft spot for him, that’s why he loves you

He knew what your favourite dessert is and he loves making it for you. He may or may not have cum in the frosting.

He makes you cocktails all the time. He tries to get you inebriated because then you’re much more receptive of him sneaking his way in to your bed.

He knew you wanted him when you were sober, too, you were just shy and needed to be pushed in the right direction

He loves it when you’re drunk – he can kiss you all over, touch you all over, mark you up as his (which was partly for himself, and partly so zoro would finally take the hint)

And being drunk made you so cuddly. Sure, he was hot for you, but he really did love you and just loved having you wrapped around him

[fairy-lights-and-blobs]

I have someone at like a story idea where Danny is like Princess Yue from Avatar last Airbender

Danny is the physical body for the ancient of space sometimes they just form in the infinite realms and get a physical body along with it and sometimes I just get an essence and have to wait till a body comes along to actually gain consciousness

Danny is that body but the idea is the Justice League is trying to make peace with the infinite realms and the council of ancients have decided let's do a deal we give you a the high Prince of the infinite rounds he stays with you for a month and if he comes back with good news of you humans we will not go to war with you

And the Justice League trying to keep peace agree they were not expecting to see a white hair teenager wearing a heavy layer traditional Komodo with a crown that has mini planets circling around his head to go along with the crown

And Frozen bits of Lazarus water floating around him to add to the exquisite that the boy carries himself with

Danny besides to base his personality off of Dora and princess Yue so no one can connect normal human Danny Fenton to High Prince Phantom Of The Infinite Realms Young Ancient Of Space

Also I just have to crack site of Danny looking at the Lazarus pits that the bats have in the cave because he's staying with them first and going it's a bit Rusty but I can work with it

Proceeding to use the Lazarus pits to make him a pair of pajamas or Danny acting like he doesn't know anything that much about the human world and it's just going along with most things

Danny Phantom acting like a Proper Prince from ancient times it doesn't understand modern teenage things just a mess with Justice League

The Justice League trying their best to appease to a teenager well also trying to stop the US government from starting a war that they will definitely not win

Oh boy, you had a real big brain time with this one :)

The Justice League had been tasked with temporary guardianship over Prince Phantom, Heir to the Throne of All, Steward of Stars.

Adored by the consciousness of the very Realm he will eventually rule over, it would fall upon Earth's best heroes to keep him safe for one entire month, and not a second less.

In exchange, loyal Halloween, also know as Fright Knight, and the King's armies wouldn't take action against Earth as a whole for the actions of one group falsely calling themselves government agents. "Let the Justice League actually deliver said Justice" had been the Prince's comment during a meeting of the Ancients. Before the Ancient Space had been through the cycle of rebirth this last time, there had been no heroes to protect the Living. Only their many divided leaders.

As Danny Fenton, they had caught whispers of the Bat on the rise, of a little Bird to follow after. Of a human, blessed by Hermes who always arrived on time. Of many, many more to follow, taking up arms to fight for Earth and her people, in defense of Justice. As Phantom, newborn half-ghost, and rising Ancient of Space, they heard of many departed souls that sang praises of the heroes, who forgave them for not making it in time, who were happy to have met their favorite before the embrace of Thanatos took them.

If this "Justice League" truly stood for Justice as they claimed, then Phantom would take a chance and trust them.

A week after the accord had been signed by the three leading members of the Justice League, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman, gathered in a meeting room to welcome the arriving Prince and his Council.

The first sign was the way the temperature dropped, followed by the sygils painted on the wall by Constantine and Zatanna lighting up toxic green. Bleeding inwards in a lazy spiral, the glowing light swirled into a spinning rift between dimensions, out of which walked Firght Knight himself, settling to the side of the portal, and standing at attention, ready for the rest of the Council to appear.

As the light from the portal became a pale, icy blue, a hand in a white, claw-tipped glove appeared from the portal, the hand's owner following after it, while the loyal Knight moved to bring his elbow up, so Prince Phantom could grab it and let himself be led out of the portal. The fact that the Prince's Fright Knight rested his free hand against his side, instead of the pommel of his sword, was a good indicator that they expected Phantom to be welcomed and safe here. They would do their best to ensure their trust was not unfounded.

Upon first glance, as the ghost of the hour floated out of the portal, the most attention would be paid to the Crown that sat on the teenage-looking ghost's head, all iridescent metal with little miniature planets orbiting each spike.

The Prince looked around the room, evaluating each of the three League members present, almost silent, if not for the way his long,almost elfin ears twitched, making the chains attached to them jingle pleasantly, little galaxies hanging from the metal and swirling lazily. A quietly howling star filled the silence, until Phantom turned to chirp at the portal, calling in the rest of the Council to step forth.

Not all of the Ancients gathered, this time. For the handoff, only those that Phantom named as family would be present. Frostbite, Pandora, Lady Dorathea and Clockwork.

Frostbite, the Yeti and Pandora, Guardian of Hope, the main caretakers, as his parents. Clockwork, one Brother of Space, now Mentor and Grandfather. Dorathea, Cousin and confidante, who insisted that Danny arrive in the best fashion to be found in his Lair. And through all his past turns of the cycle of rebirth, Danny had accumulated fashions uncountable, for his Fraid to enjoy.

Today, Dora had insisted to dress him up in a black kimono, specifically the one that faded from black, to dark blue into pale icy blue. Snowflakes slowly fell all across the length of the cloth, turning a formal piece of attire into a moving art show, as snow fell in lazy patterns with each step Danny took.

"Batman. Superman. Wonder Woman. Thank you for your kind offer of hospitality while I remain in this Realm." A furry hand on his shoulder led Phantom to sit in the closest chair, thumb nudging gently against a freckled cheek in silent support as the Yeti almost glowed with pride for his boy.

"It is nice to see you well, Prince Phantom." Wonder Woman took the lead, as was the usual when discussions between the three main Justice League heroes involved the more divine or supernatural aspects of the world. "We have some ideas for who will host you for the duration of your time here, and were hoping you might give your opinion."

The plan was for, at least initially, to have Batman host their guest. Both Clark and Diana knew the Dark Knight of Gotham would be a better fit for a Prince's stay.

Clark, with his irregular schedule as a reporter and his sons, and Diana with her work as a museum curator, were both too busy to host him. Bruce, on the other hand, would have the space needed, the free schedule needed to care for a teenage royal, and, most importantly, other teenagers already in his care, to help the current youngest of the Ancients acclimate to the modern Era, and specifically the Gotham lifestyle.

One signed contract later, and Danny floated in front of the Zeta tubes, feeling the rumble of working machinery, the humming of electricity which Danny knew deep in his bones and Core, would always recognize what killed him in this life while keeping his face as neutral as possible.

Right now, Danny was just Prince Phantom, Heir to the Throne and Rising Ancient of Space. Fenton could take a break from his crazy parents and their fixation on ghosts, and Jazz didnt need to spend her entire day worrying about him and smothering him in affection.

Highly advanced machinery was an interest because it was new, not because he wants to take it apart and see what makes it tick.

Thus, misdirection in place, Danny's Core studied the signals coming from the portal frame, and the rift just beyond, waiting to open.

"Your Highness, are you ready to go?" Ah, that would be Batman, standing at his side and watching him. He sounded...soft. The ghosts of Gotham always spoke of how soft Batman was towards children and, Ancient or not, right now Danny was, for all intents and purposes, a teenager.

A dead teenager, and that was bound to tug at the Bat's heart.

So, with a big smile, and big, curious eyes, Danny turned to face the Dark Knight and curtsied just as Dora had taught him to.

"I am indeed ready. I wonder what kind of home Gotham's favorite Knight lives in!"

"Before we leave, I should tell you, there will be others there. My children are a chaotic bunch, but they will be curious about you."

"Of course, no Bat is truly complete without his colony. You speak of them with pride. I will trust your judgement. So long as no one asks me how I died, or anything too personal, I won't take offense to being questioned by your children."

Stepping through the now active Zeta Tube set all of Danny's ectoplasmic nerves on end for a second, a slight feeling of too much settling in his bones at the difference between this and the portal that had brought him to the Watchtower.

Stepping out of the Zeta, Danny shook the pins and needles from his hands, blinked at the lighting change, and stepped into...a dark cave, full of very advanced tech that his inner Fenton pitched to get their hands on, and several small fluffy bats chittering above, watching the newcomer with judgemental eyes for a few seconds. Chirping a greeting at the gathering of eyes settled their agitation.

Clearly, good manners worked with Bats of all kinds.

"This way, Prince Phantom." Distracted by the Bats above, Danny had missed Batman ducking into a changing room and walking out as Bruce Wayne, Beloved Prince of Gotham, and all around Himbo Dad.

Mimicking Fright Knight previously, Bruce held his own arm up so Danny could hold onto it as he was guided to an elevator out of the Cave. He even pretended to stumble just slightly over the step out of the platform, looking around at the actually quite cozy but also really big office the elevator doors opened into.

"I thought people didn't live in castles anymore? Is the Knight of Gotham the exception?"

The eye roll and fond sigh had Danny cheering internally. The man DOES have a sense of humor! Not a fruit loop, after all!

Maybe this will be a fun little vacation.

Maybe, just maybe, Danny can hope that the GIW problem will be resolved, and he won't have to go to war against the Living...

Perched in the rafters above and spying on her dad and the pretty boy they'll be hosting, Cassandra Wayne almost stumbles at the sheer force of the sudden Hope-Glad-please don't be a dream that blankets the entire Wayne manor.

[targaryenluvs]

SHADOW / EVAN BUCKLEY

PAIRINGS: Evan Buckley x Girlfriend!Reader

SUMMARY: Evan would go to great lengths to make sure his girlfriend never leaves.

WARNINGS: Stalking, baby trapping, sexual depictions, obsessive behaviour, invasion of privacy, babying, isolation

WORDCOUNT: 3.3K Words

A/N: Uhm, let’s not talk about this…

Evan was in love.

For the first time in his life he was truly, head over heels for someone. Even he himself couldn’t believe it. His friends all noticed the change in demeanour. The excessive happiness that he seemed to radiate at all time. They couldn’t find it in themselves to be anything but happy for him.

He’d had his fair share of relationships, but of course they didn’t last. Whether it was off on travels, untrustworthiness or a bad connection. They didn’t last. But with you, he knew you were the one. From the way you looked up at him, the way you smiled when he held your hand. You never judged him, dealt with his family issues as well as his own recklessness.

You were perfect, in every way. And Buck knew it. It’s why when he found out you were think about breaking up with him that he found himself spiralling.

He’d been using your phone to text Bobby, to tell him he wasn’t coming in the next day. You’d both planned to have a beach day, since the both of you had been busy lately. After texting Bobby, a text from your friend has caught his eye.

Just break up with him!

Evan could feel his heart racing, what the hell?

So he pressed on the conversation and found his worst nightmare. You’d been talking to her about how you found yourself with less time alone, almost always being dragged out to a restaurant or some other place by Buck. You felt smothered, but didn’t have the heart to tell him. If you’d told him he was being clingy he would’ve tried to dial it back. But speaking about him behind his back? To your bitch of a friend?

It wasn’t right of you. And it wasn’t right of her to encourage these thoughts. She’d met Evan before, multiple times. She always talked about how perfect the two of you were for each other. And here she was, trying to get you to leave him, your soulmate.

So he texted her, on your behalf.

I’m not breaking up with him, don’t text me. I don’t want to see you anymore.

Then he blocked her number.

“Evan?” His head rose from the pillow, looking down at you as you walked into the apartment. “Yeah babe? Everything okay?” He heard you jogging up the stairs, “Maya blocked me, I think. I tried to talk to her on Insta and she told me to screw myself. I don’t know what I did wrong.” Bucks heart hurt at the sight of you crying.

“Oh baby, you didn’t do anything. You shouldn’t be thinking about a friend who can be so rude with no explanation. C’mere.” He held his arms out for you as you settled into his arms, tears dampening his shirt. “I’ve got you, you’re okay.” He cradled your head against his chest. “I— I just don’t know what I did.”

“Shh, don’t waste your energy on her. Okay?” Your head lifted, “Okay…” He could sense your uncertainty, you’d been friends with Maya for a while, almost a year. He knew it’d be hard for you to get over it, but it was for the best. Evan knew what was best for you.

Your boyfriend was acting strangely, to say the least.

He’d been much more involved with your friends now. Always asking after them, what you guys were doing, whether or not Maya came back in touch. It felt as if you couldn’t breathe in their presence without a million texts from him.

Evan ❤️

Where are you right now?

Who’s with you?

When are you coming home?

Home. He always assumed you were coming to his place. As if you were already living together when you’d only been together for five months. Even when you brought it up to him, he’d brush his actions off.

“I mean we’re practically living together already no? What’s the point in you having your things somewhere else when you can have it here. Saves you a trip in the morning baby.” Evan murmured into your neck as you stood in the bathroom. “I… I have my own place Evan. I like having my own place. It’s not just my things that are there. It’s my place.” His arms briefly tightened around you at the sound of your protest.

“I know, but don’t you want to live with me? Be with me?” Buck retracted his face from your neck, his arms circling around your neck as your hands held on to his arms. “I do! I do want to be with you. I am with you baby.” His frown disappeared in a second, replaced with an unsettling smile. “That’s what I thought.” He kissed your cheek before walking out the door.

You stared into the mirror. What the hell does that mean? That’s what I thought? You shook your head in an attempt to collect your thoughts. Did you want to be in this relationship? Where you felt like you were being babysat? As if Buck was your parent, always asking where you were and who with. As if you couldn’t handle yourself, needing supervision.

It took you another month to realise this isn’t what you wanted in a relationship. You wanted to be equals, to rely on eachother and trust each other. The ability to go out and not give your exact location every ten minutes. To not feel as if you have an overwhelming pressure behind you, always looming. Like a shadow.

But it was a month too long. You’d given Evan even more access into your life. He’d sweet talked you into sharing your live location with you. Even your bank account was accessible to him, being able to overlook your transactions. He had keys to your apartment and even his face ID on your phone (not that you knew he had access to your phone).

You’d confided in your best friend. And she’d encouraged you the whole time. She herself hadn’t noticed Evan’s overbearing behaviour, he always handled himself properly in public. Not a single person would suspect him of being so controlling. He was to sweet for that. And even if they noticed his clinginess, they viewed it as a sweet trait.

He loves you so much he can’t breathe without you. Half of his personality had become you. His wallpaper was a photo of the two of you, his password was now your birthday. His pantry and fridge were filled with your favourite foods, even when you weren’t staying over.

It was all you. Evan finally had someone to love, to spoil and to hold with all his might. He’d be damned if someone tried to take you from him. So when he used your phone to call an Uber since you’d both walked to the restaurant, imagine his surprise and anger in finding another friend of yours against him.

Y/n: I think I’ll tell him tonight, at his place. Somewhere he feels comfortable and won’t be embarrassed.

Rebekah: Good idea, I hope he takes it well. I don’t think he means to cling in all honesty. Might just be a subconscious decision since he hasn’t had many long term relationships. Hopefully he finds someone for him.

Y/n: I know, me too. I just feel so bad, he’s had like two or three girlfriends before me and none of them worked out :(

Rebekah: I know babe, but don’t stay with him out of pity. That’s even worse for him.

Y/n: It’s not pity, I’m not still with him out of pity. I really do love him, but I can’t help feeling as if I have no space. He’s always asking for where I am, and with whom. It’s overbearing. And he seemingly can’t handle me being independent, as if I need him to do everything for me. I’m not a child.

Rebekah: You aren’t, no where near it. I get that you love him, but this isn’t healthy. You both deserve better. Some girls love a guy who cares so much. Wishing you all the best, I have a wine bottle waiting for us x

Y/n: Maybe I can wait to do it another night? I’m having a good time, reminds me why I love him :(

Rebekah: No!! If you keep going you’ll never get away.

Y/n: Pleaseeee??

Rebekah: Breakup sex isn’t a horrible idea. Might soften the blow lmao 🤣

Y/n: That’s not what I meant! I’m gonna go, and am NOT leaving to have sex.

Rebekah: Whatever you say, happy break up day xx 💋

Happy break up day? What a bitch.

If there was one aspect of your relationship that never suffered, it was in the bedroom. And Evan couldn’t help but notice when he was closing your open apps, your cycle tracking app. His thumb hovered over it, he looked around to make sure you weren’t returning from the bathroom. Only a few words stuck out for Evan.

High chance of getting pregnant.

You soaked in the ride back to Evans place. One more night with him, that’s all you were giving him. The idea of breaking up with sounded alright over text, but actually facing it? Your hands were sweating, heart racing. You didn’t want to let go, but you knew you had to.

Now or never.

Your eyes darted around Evans apartment, soaking it all up for your last time, when his hands came around your waist as he kissed your neck. “A bit eager aren’t we?” You joked as his hold tightened, “Mhm.” He grabbed you by the hips before turning you to face him, “You look amazing, and you smell so good.” You couldn’t help but blush at the compliments, Evan always knew how to make a girl blush.

“I do?” His hands cradled your face, kissing you on the forehead, “You do baby.” Evan’s hands travelled down to your butt, “Up.” He only needed one word, and so did you. He carried you up the stairs, then softly laying you down on the bed.

Evan was swift in taking your dress off, then his own outfit. “I love you.” He spoke as he thrust into you, your hands held on tightly to his hair, “Oh god Evan!” He couldn’t contain his smirk, he loved you like this. An absolute mess, all for him.

“Say it back.” His fingers dug into your hips.

“Ow! What?” Your brain was foggy, Evans words went in and out your ears.

“Say. It. Back.” His voice held no sweetness, it was purely demanding. His pace was brutal, and again it felt as if you couldn’t breathe. The pleasure was overwhelming, you felt so good. “I…” Your heart was racing again, it felt wrong to tell him you loved him.

His teeth bit down on your collarbone, “I love you!”

You shouldn’t have said it back. It was all that you could think about as his demeanour changed again, a lovesick grin on his face as he kissed you passionately. His hands felt heavy on your skin, burning into you. All you could feel was Evan. Your head was hazy as he carried you, bridal style. The water was warm, and so was he.

Evan slid in behind you in the bath, his arms were strong around you. He took his time in cleaning you off, savouring the moment. “You hungry?” He sounded so casual, as if he hadn’t literally bruised you moments before. “A little.” Your voice was quiet for some reason, you didn’t know why. “We’ll have anything you want.”

That night you spent with him was one of the weirdest of your life. You felt safe with him, more so than you felt with anyone else. But you couldn’t shake the memories of prior times. Him literally crashing a birthday party to make sure you were where you said you were. Evan dragging you back into bed when you needed to work. Him telling you to not reach for the top shelf, saying it was ‘too much for you’. Or him cutting up your food.

Everytime he looked at you, you felt conflicted.

Was this what love was? Uncertainty? Through the night you found yourself tired. Your brain was constantly filing through a million thoughts, about Evan, about yourself and your life. You loved him, but would it be wrong to stay with someone who seemingly infiltrated every aspect of your life? You didn’t know, all you knew was that the pizza was amazing and he was snuggly.

So you stayed the night. You’d fallen asleep in his arms halfway through ‘Me Before You’. You’d spent majority of the movie arguing over whether she should’ve stayed with him or left. And whether he should’ve lived to be with her. “It’s not right! He’s miserable! She should be understanding of him wanting to leave! Which she is in the end.” Evan shook his head as he tossed his slice into the box. “You’re so wrong.” You gasped.

“He should stayed for her. He knew she loved him and it was selfish of him to leave.”

“He was miserable Evan!”

“Would you leave me if I lost my ability to walk?”

Well that sentence shut you up quickly. “I—, I wouldn’t. I’d stay with you. But the movie is different, she meets him afterwards. He’s already miserable, and she makes it better, yes. But he knows he can’t give her the life she deserves. So he’s selfless in letting her go. And also, if you wanted to go, I’d support you. I’d be sad, yes, but you’re not happy. And I’d want you to be happy.”

“I’d never tell you to leave me. You’re too good to let go. Having you by my side is all I need.” You remained staring at the screen, unable to move. “Thank you.” Evan raised his eyebrows at your dismissal of his words.

“I love you Y/n.”

You turned to him with a small smile, “Love you too.” And within ten minutes, you were sleeping in his arms. Evan glanced down at you with a smile before pulling out his phone. He typed out the date of yesterday. It seemed like a date he’d need to remember. And it was lucky, in about nine months, he’d be holding a mini you in his arms.

You woke up with Evans arm draped over you, locking you in place. You slipped out slowly, grabbing a shirt and leggings of yours. You’d failed in breaking up with him, you knew you had. Last night had sucked you right back in to the storm that was Evan Buckley.

He looked at peace when he slept. Content. Maybe you could have a talk with him about boundaries. You weren’t ready to let go of him yet. And it was exactly what he was counting on, he’d wormed his way into your life. To the point where you weren’t sure what life was like without him.

Evan kept his eyes closed as you left. Letting you think you’d gotten away without him knowing. Last night was amazing in his opinion, and when you didn’t respond through out the day he surprisingly kept his cool. He had a good feeling about the night, and if he was lucky, you’d come crawling back either way.

The day had been quiet, you ran some errands, completed your laundry. And with only one text for Evan compared to the usual twenty.

Have a good day ❤️

You found yourself smiling at the text. Simple and sweet. Maybe he’d read your mind and was now reeling back? God you hoped he was adjusting his behaviour. And through the rest of the week, he didn’t show up. He didn’t randomly come to pick you up from work, or bombard you with calls and texts when you went out for drinks. You’d become so accustomed to telling him your location that he didn’t have to ask.

You called every day, barely over an hour. Just debriefing eachother about your days and gossiping. It felt as if you were both improving in your relationship. You were lowering your guard, and he was working his way in. He wasn’t being too pushy, and you weren’t being protective.

And it was a new chapter in your eyes. Since he’d stayed that way. You found yourself even happier than usual. Going out with him more willingly, especially to dinners with the 118. In two months, they saw more of Bucks girlfriend then they had in the previous 7-8 months.

And whilst you may not have noticed any changes of your own physically, Evan sure did. He felt them, your chest was heavier, and a slight bump was developing. You’d recently been an avid sushi lover when it came to eating out, and you’d been having cravings.

You’d confided in Evan about missing your period, and whilst he acted concerned, it was probably the best news he’d ever gotten. He’d come home the next day after his shift with about six different home pregnancy tests. And you’d been willing to take them.

His world stopped when each one came out positive. But first he had to gauge your reaction, the relief was unmatched when you turned to him with a smile. “We’re having a kid.” You whispered as he nodded, “A mini you, or me.” Tears fell down your face as you squealed before jumping onto him. He laughed as you buried your face into his shoulder before facing him, “You’re gonna be a daddy.” And he couldn’t help but cry himself.

You were going to be a family.

Evan was outstanding when it came to taking care of you. Anything you needed was in front of you within the hour. You’re tired? Here’s a pillow, blanket and soothing sounds to help you sleep. You’re hungry? Here’s every craving that he’s logged of yours, with delivery on the way. You’re sore? He’s got oil in his hands and eager look on his face, to which you tease him.

“Missed me that much huh?”

“You have no idea.” He whispered before kissing you.

It was a Friday dinner at Bobby and Athena’s when you announced the pregnancy to them. To which you were met with blank stares which eventually erupted into cheers and hugs.

“Oh god, Bucks having a kid before me.” Chimney shuddered as Evan slapped his bicep, “Evans going to be an amazing father.” You smiled as he grinned, “Why thank you Mrs Buckley.” He kissed you before you could react, is marriage around the corner for you?

“Well actually…” Maddie spoke out as you all turned, “Oh my god, are we pregnant at the same time?” Her small nod caused chaos to erupt amongst the home, “Two new additions to the family!” Bobby cheered. Chimneys mind was close to exploding as he hugged her.

“I’m so happy they all know.” You spoke happily as Evan sighed, “I can’t believe she’s pregnant.” You kissed his cheek before holding his hands, “Do we need to have the butterflies and bees talk?” He rolled his eyes as you pretended to pout, and he poked your cheek.

“Can’t believe we’re going to be a family. The three of us, forever.” Evan kissed the top of your head as Athena and Bobby smiled, “They’re going to be great parents.” Bobby nodded along, “Can’t believe Buck’s going to be a father. I remember his first day, and now he has a whole family.” He couldn’t help the slight tears in his eyes.

As Evan stood in the middle of the room he felt happier than ever. He had a family he loved and a family member on the way. He knew he finally had everything the could’ve ever wanted. Especially with the girl he loved in his arms, and he’d never let go.

[riptide-if]

Your dad has always said you swim as if your were born to be in the water; the rest of your family has always said that he is the whole reason you turned out like that.

So, it's not really a surprise when you had used all the money you got for your 7th birthday to buy a surfboard. And even less of a surprise when you started joining small surf competitions by the time you were 10, later followed by bigger competitions.

It seems you are the only one surprised when it turns out you're able to compete in the World Surfer's League's Ultimate Tournament Tour*.

Thrown into a mix of fellow surfing prodigies, rookies, and pros, do you really have what it takes to win?

RIPTIDE is a 18+ slice-of-life interactive fiction that includes optional sexual content, alcohol and drug use, coarse language, mentions of death of a parent, and dysfunctional families.

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customize your character, from gender, (including transgender options) pronouns, personality, physical appearance, clothing style, dynamics, public persona, and more.

decide what your strengths and weaknesses are as a surfer and choose from.

romance one of four romantic options - your best friend's brother, your childhood friend, your ex, or your fellow competitor, along with three polyamorous options and flings.

compete in an international surfing competition and see how you fare against your fellow surfers.

learn how to balance family, romance, and surfing; or don't, and suffer the consequences.

Arlo Song [male, he/him], your best friend’s twin brother.

Reliable and patient, Arlo is the poster child for the 'boy next door' trope. Arlo, despite living in Hawai'i since he was 13, has never been one for beaches or sports, choosing to spend his day in an art studio rather than on the beach, unlike most of the people he knows, including his twin sister; Aria. He's always kept you at arms length for reasons you aren't quite sure about.

Hilo Kalua Mahoe [nonbinary, they/them], your childhood best friend.

Apathetic and reserved, Hilo has been by your side since before you can remember (though your family has many pictures to prove this). Hilo is your exceptionally talented unofficial-official photographer, has been for years, and is accompanying you on the UTT. Ever since you were kids you’ve been hearing comments that Hilo is prickly or mean, but they’re never like that with you.

Elijah/Elaine Lee Ferguson [gender selectable], your rockstar ex.

Impulsive and (seemingly) confident E, more commonly known as ‘Lee Rex’ on stage and just Lee to their friends, is exactly what one would expect out of a rockstar. Your meeting with Lee was purely by coincidence, during their US tour, a show that a couple of your friends dragged you to— though if you knew that know you probably wouldn’t have agreed to go. Whatever Lee was like as your partner is long gone now; evident by all the photos they’ve posted making out with someone on their Instagram story.

Noemia/Nikita Azevedo [gender selectable], your wildcard competitor.

Charismatic and arrogant, N has already made a name for themselves in the surfing community. After placing in the final five in the last UTT, they’ve been chosen as a wildcard this time around. Really, you don’t know all that much about N, considering you’ve never even met them, but from your limited research (e.g: watching interviews on YouTube) you can tell they’re.. a bit of a flirt. It’s hard to tell if a facade or not; but you don’t really want to find out, either.

[nelkcats]

Found Family

John Constantine fucked it up, Clockwork is happy with the result.

It's no secret that John Constantine sells his soul a lot, and that he's made dubious deals, it's his specialty after all. So it was no surprise when he offered his first born child to multiple entities as part of various deals, in his opinion there was no risk, it was impossible for a baby to be born because of him.

So when Clockwork witnessed a drunken Constantine offer up a newborn as payment for breaking the rules of time travel he just shrugged, he knew the British wouldn't even remember that specific deal and his job was to find the better timelines, the Flash Family sure is going to be his future headache.

Clockwork was pretty sure a child wouldn't be born anyways, the chances were too small; For once, Clockwork was wrong, he didn't know how to feel when little Daniel was born to one of Constantine's many exes, the woman seemed honestly devastated, she wanted to give the child a good life but didn't know how.

It seemed that she was about to call John, her hands trembling as she tried to remember the number, but before she could break the news the baby disappeared from her arms, vanished as multiple laughs were heard in the hospital room. The woman immediately understood and started cursing the bastard of her ex for being so stupid as multiple contracts with the idiot signature materialized in her hands.

Clockwork began to consider his options as he stood in the center of a room with all the contractors, he could fight for the baby, he was an Ancient, but what was the point? He looked at the baby, waiting for a signal to tell him what to do; the baby stopped crying and looked at his multiple watches, laughing with joy.

And then he saw it, the possibilities that before were almost zero began to show themselves, the multiple futures of the boy: celebrations, tears, laught, the painful part? Clockwork was in all of them.

Even when he didn't directly raise him he was always there, he could see that the boy loved him and he loved him back. Time made a mistake and fall in love with the concept: permanence, family, home, that baby was everything so he made his decision.

Without much trouble he fought against all the entities, many could call him a cheater but he didn't care, time was his domain.

With Daniel in his arms he carried him to his haunt, avoiding the gaze of the observants, the baby laughed as his core purred "Welcome home, Danny" he whispered watching as the blue eyes fixed on him.

It didn't take a couple of days for Clockwork to decide to break his contract, he couldn't care less about Constantine and he hated the idea that Daniel belonged to him like an object of some kind, however he couldn't destroy the damn thing until he was sure that all the other contracts were burned (and he made sure of it)

At the end of the week his baby officially belonged to him, Constantine was really an idiot for giving the precious boy in his arms to the worst people. Frostbite and Pandora approved but they were worried.

"He is a human child Clockwork, you know we don't doubt you, but he can't grow up in the realms, you can't run away from the observants and steal human food forever" Frostbite told him.

"He is officially yours, but you need to let him go until the right time" Pandora said, she knew she might be sounding harsh, but she needed to make him understand.

Clockwork was very aware, every time he pointed out a star to Danny from his screens, every time he wrapped his cape around him, every time he kissed his forehead, he knew he had to let the baby go, that the Fentons had lost a baby and would be willing to take care of him.

Hell, he knew he could take care of the child and infiltrate the damn house but how long would it be until he could hold his baby again? hug him? it was undoubtedly painful to know the future but to live in the present, having to do the things that hurt most.

So he did, leaving Daniel (Danny, he'd like to be called Danny in the future) with his star blanket wrapped around him, he kissed the boy's forehead, and placed a bright green note in his basket "His name is Daniel, take good care of him please, and take him to the moon since i couldn't do it -C.W", with one last look he sighed as he returned to the Zone

"Everything is as it should be" he said, watching Daniel with his time screens.

He didn't leave it like that, the Fentons were honestly very distracted, pretty bad parents if he was being honest but for some reason he knew Danny would love them.

So he took it upon himself to fill in the missing details: an anonymous birthday present, a hot meal, a recipe book, glowing stars, little aids that only the children noticed. Jasmine was quite grateful to him for that.

What if there were nights where Danny fell asleep with a voice singing to him? Or if the sound of the clocks calmed him down? It was his business at the end of the day.

The years passed, inevitable things happened that the master of time himself refrained from preventing (His baby had to die, fate was very cruel to return the boy to him in that way).

Clockwork congratulated himself for not speaking to the boy until he overheard the Observants talking about killing his son and panicked, eventually introducing himself and trying to stay calm while helping with "The Dark Dan Incident"

It was a tough trip, filled with many cardiac attacks and the desire to choke ghosts (but he had to remember that Danny needed those experiences, it was for the best), there were also threats towards Frostbite when he saw the rural paintings, at least both the Yeti and the Goddess kept quiet about the adoption.

He really didn't want to scare Danny by saying "Hey, your biological dad sold you to me and I owned your soul until I decided to adopt you but couldn't talk to you until now, surprise"

So he maintained his cryptic attitude towards the boy until much later (he also enjoyed being cryptic), when he nearly fainted upon realizing that Danny's core had adopted him as a mentor and father. The guy himself was embarrassed to admit it confessing asking Frostbite about it.

To explain it better he advised Danny to ask his parents about his adoption, the boy seemed confused but agreed. Clockwork wasn't surprised when the boy appeared in the tower a few hours later, teary-eyed and a familiar green note in hand.

You see, contrary to popular belief Danny was aware that he was adopted, his parents didn't try to hide it, quite proud of that fact, but whenever he asked about his biological parents they shrugged without knowing what to say.

Clockwork's request was strange so he decided to ask one more time, his parents told him again about the night they found him, when they took out a green note claiming it came with his basket; he took it in hand, the color, the letters and the writer of the note were obvious, but his parents affirmed they had no idea who C.W was.

With a thank you and a farewell he returned to the realms, the note trembling in his hand as he asked for answers. And he received them, Clocky looked heartbroken by his distrust, but he explained everything that happened from his birth to the present.

Suddenly everything made sense to Danny: the watches, the food, the gifts his parents claimed they hadn't bought, the singing; Clockwork had taken care of him the best he could, but he couldn't do much trapped under the observants control, he frowned at the last part but ended up hugging his father.

Ironically, that was also the day Danny decided to hate his biological father, John Constantine was a bastard who would only give him paperwork, and he had sold him! To multiple entities! If it wasn't for Clocky he'd be even more dead!

When Danny finally turned 18 and was officially declared Ghost King, his life became a thousand times easier and a thousand times more difficult.

On one hand he had managed to remove the observants who now worked for Walker, and he had managed to free Clocky, on the other hand, he had a thousand responsibilities fallen on his shoulders and he felt tired just thinking about it.

Declaring Clockwork his adviser was a good idea, although he always ended up pouting when he asked him if he wouldn't wish to be king in his place, Clocky was the king's father, shouldn't he be king instead? The master of time just laughed and shook his head, telling him to go back to his paperwork.

The days locked in his office with the thousands of papers in the name of John Constantine only increased his resentment towards his biological father, months in which he had to request a time out just to review a specific section.

————————

It was a normal day after a routine visit from Jazz and Dani when Danny was summoned, his pleasant evening with Clocky (and yes, he could call him dad many times but the nickname just stuck) was interrupted when he felt the summon, he gave a sigh of suffering asking his father if he would come along, he just shrugged as Danny disappeared.

On the other hand, the Justice League was tense, someone had warned about the release of Kronos in the world and Diana couldn't be more worried, they contacted Justice League Dark and they confirmed the presence of multiple gods of time being released.

It was Constantine who offered the solution to summon the Ghost king, if many of those entities were "dead" he should have control over them; And since it was rumored that he was a new king, they might have a chance to strike a deal.

The problem was that the result of the summon was a boy with Lazarus green eyes who stepped out of the circle, directing his hateful eyes towards Constantine, Danny would recognize the bastard anywhere, he had asked his dad to show him.

At first Batman assumed that the color of his eyes meant that the boy was induced by the same anger as Jason, this seemed to be reaffirmed when he spoke trying to remain calm "Why did you summon me, father?" was the boy's cold question.

Constantine seemed to be going through eight stages of duel in seconds as the League came to a standstill, Zatanna shot an incredulous look at her partner as a crown of ice and a white ring materialized on the boy, who crossed his arms.

The objects at least affirmed that this was the king they were looking for. Danny sighed and managed to calm down, this really was an unpleasant revelation, out of pettiness he cast his icy gaze at Constantine, freezing his feet to the ground.

It was then that Wonder Woman stepped forward, Batman was evaluating the entity next to her, even though he was calm his eyes remained the same, he had to reconsider his initial observations "Your Highness, we are here for a request"

"And what would that request be?" Danny questioned with boredom, once he had decided to ignore the Constantine in the room he simply put his mind in treat this as a business meeting.

"We have heard rumors about the release of Kronos along with multiple time entities, we fear that he is planning something against you or us" spoke the princess "We wanted you to confirm those suspicions and if they are true, help us stop them"

Danny frowned "His release doesn't concern you, even less if it's in my domain" he spoke seriously, he remembered that Clocky had told him that his lack of "management" by the observants could be read badly for the other realms, he knew that could include being confused for different entities, his father had many names at the end of the day.

"Your Highness, excuse the rudeness but I don't think you understand the seriousness of the matter" Diana said annoyed by the lack of reaction.

Danny just sneered "I think I totally get it, your sources are wrong, if they are free or not, they are not planning anything"

"I don't think it's your place to make such statements." Superman frowned.

"Oh really? I think it's my place to know if my dad is planning something" he let that revelation stay in the minds of the heroes, he wondered how many times they would be surprised in a day

"Sorry, I thought Constantine was your father?" Flash asked, sounding concerned.

"Constantine is my biological father, yes, however Kronos or whatever you call him is my adoptive father, he taked care of me since I was a baby" the halfa rolled his eyes.

"That's not possible, Kronos has been dead for a long time" Zatanna was worried by that new information.

"You have a God on your team and you wonder if it's possible to totally kill them? Because most of the time the answer is no" Danny shrugged.

"But he was trapped" Diana was sure of that.

"Yes, he was" Danny spoke, resentment ringing in his voice "I released him"

"Are you out of your mind!?" Green Lantern yelled, forgetting he was in front of a King "He obviously planned that, he probably plans to conquer the world!"

"Have you considered that he might be manipulating you?" questioned Batman with a soft voice.

"He's not manipulating me and he couldn't care less about the world, if he really wanted it he'd have it in seconds" Danny bristled at the calming victim tone and the sad eyes around him, honestly they were stupid, If Clocky wanted to rule the world, he would let it be instead of looking for a better future for everyone.

"Okay, everyone calm down, it's obvious that if he've been with him since he was a baby his influence has reached far, we should try to separate them and connect him with his biological father, everything will be fine son" Superman nodded.

"My son isn't going with some idiot wizard with no appreciation for his own soul" the topic of conversation in question appeared next to Danny, at the most dramatic moment possible.

Danny was about to yell at the heroes to stop treating him like a victim or a child when his dad put a hand on his shoulders, clearly trying to calm him down. He sighed and lunged at Clocky, hiding inside his cloak.

"Kronos what are you planning?" Diana spoke resentfully "manipulating a child is going too far"

"I was planning on enjoying tea at our house before some idiots decided to play being God" Clockwork rolled his eyes "And as much as it pains me to say it: Danny stopped being a child a long time ago, in case you forgot it he's a king, the king of all the dead and a god of his own"

"Is this your plan? become the King of the dead? Because you're not going to get away with it" Diana asked, suspicious.

"Do you have selective hearing? Cause I would love for dad to be king in my place but he really doesn't want to" Danny snorted "And since you're not going to treat this meeting seriously we're leaving, as much as I love the space this is really ruining it for me"

"You can not go away! You have to let us help you" Flash yelled worried.

"No, you don't have the right to decide that, so I'm going to go back home, drink my tea and make cookies with dad while you guys figure out how to thaw that bastard over there" Danny finally pointed at Constantine shivering in the cold as he looked at him in shock, Clockwork laughed at his side.

"I'd say it was nice to meet you, but it wasn't, don't expect much help from the dead, we're really not in the mood; go over tips on treating royals properly next time" Clockwork said a last goodbye and left.

Both the King and the God of time disappeared with the circle, along with the materials to perform the ritual; it seemed like they really didn't want to be contacted again

"That really didn't turn out as we expected" Billy muttered, he hadn't wanted to talk during the meeting because he didn't consider that either of the two beings was lying. They looked like father and son, just tired and fed up.

"We will have to evaluate this new threat, it is impossible that his words were completely true, Constantine, find out why that boy hates you so much" Batman ordered.

"I sold him" The hellbazer whispered.

"Sorry, what?" Zatanna stopped what she was doing.

"He hate me because I sold him" John passed his hands over his eyes "I didn't even consider this possible, I'm not supposed to have fucking kids, now it makes so much sense why she's avoiding me"

"She?" Superman asked

"Yeah, one of my exes tried to kill me, she keep yelling about me being an idiot and underestimating the consequences of my acts, I thought it was something normal, you know? I should have known better" He shrugged, the ice had melted but the cold stayed in his bones.

Batman took a deep breath, trying to calm down and not kill the man on the spot. "Who did you sell him to?"

"Many entities" Constantine bit his lip, embarrassed "could have sold him to Kronos for everything we know"

"You are a complete asshole and I understand why the boy does not want to see you" Zatanna spoke completely tired.

"So Kronos can own him for all we know? that's just awful" Diana was disgusted.

"It wasn't supposed to happen, evading contract liability is my specialty not dealing with the consequences" Constantine was stressed.

"This got much more complicated, we'll see how to break your son's contract and separate him from Kronos, maybe you can fix things after that" The dark knight spoke, he hated magic.

Billy refrained from mentioning that Kronos and the King didn't seem to be under a contract, or whatever his teammates were thinking, they looked like family, which for an orphan is pretty obvious.

But he knew that his companions wouldn't take his remarks seriously, so he just sighed in resignation. Maybe the League will remember that those two were from another dimension and royalty that they shouldn't anger, he really hopes they will remember soon.

For their part, Clockwork and Danny returned to their Tower now located next to the palace, deciding to prepare cookies for the visit of Sam & Tucker, one of the time screens was next to them, showing the League discussing the supposed problem.

Danny was quite annoyed that they were deciding things for him and calling his father bad but Clockwork brushed it off, they wouldn't get very far with the palace guards if they even managed to find a portal to the Realms, or even get to the palace itself.

"It's fine Daniel, everything is as it should be"

[andreafmn]

Ours | Derek Hale Oneshot

Word Count: 3.5K Requested by @gracelynn318: "Derek or Stiles finding out that their significant other (the reader) is pregnant and they try to keep it secret for as long as possible" Warnings: pregnancy, pregnancy symptoms (vomiting, nausea, fatigue)

Summary: Derek Hale and (Y/N) have been together for a long time, and they didn't know something was missing from their lives until it arrived unexpectedly. And all they want to do is revel in the moment for as long as they can, by themselves.

A/N: this story follows 0% of canon, just the character's names. will admit. I am a horrible Teen Wolf fan that has yet to see season 5 and 6, and I've also yet to watch the movie. So, definitely an AU 😬also, be on the lookout for tonight or tomorrow for another surprise regarding this request 😉😉

Derek had noticed the change long before (Y/N) had. Long before she knew why she spent her days expelling her meals down the toilet drain, before she understood why her body craved more food than she could keep down, before she had even noticed that a month had passed and her period had not arrived. 

It came late at night. The soft putter of a heartbeat that felt so far that it could have been confused with the sound of rain against the pavement. They had been lying in bed, the exhaustion of living in Beacon Hills the only thing they needed to crash at night. But the sound had been bothering Derek. The continuous rhythm didn’t allow the wolf to lose himself in much-needed slumber. The sound kept him up, especially from where it was coming from. 

“(Y/N),” he whispered, running his hand up and down her arm to wake her. “(Y/N), baby, wake up.” 

“Mm,” she groaned groggily, cuddling to his body tightly. “Go to sleep, Derek.” 

 “(Y/N), I gotta ask you something. Wake up.” 

“We can talk in the morning,” she whined. “I’m tired right now.” 

“It’s important,” he chuckled softly. “I need your complete focus.” 

With a loud exhale, (Y/N) sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. The sheet fell from her torso, and the coldness of the night made her skin erupt in goosebumps. She rarely got angry with Derek, but she was coming quite close at that very moment. “You better have a good reason to wake me, Der,” she said. “I’m so tired I might just put off killing you until tomorrow.” 

“Listen, please,” he said. “When was the last time you got your period?” 

“What?” the girl questioned. “You seriously just woke me up to ask about my cycle?” 

“More or less. Just answer. Did you get it last month?” 

It took her a moment to think. The grogginess of being woken up still clutched her mind, and recounting the past weeks was hard. But her body startled awake as she realized she had not gotten her shark week in a month and a half. That fact alone did not scare her. She had always been irregular, and in moments of stress, it was more likely than not that she skipped a cycle. The problem was that not only had she missed a period, she had been feeling sick for the past three weeks. And the math was not too hard to do. 

“I-I didn’t,” she stammered. “W-why are you asking?”

“Oh my god,” he answered. “Oh my god!” 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

Instead of answering, Derek pressed his ear to her stomach until he could hear the sound clearly. Alongside (Y/N)’s quickening heartbeat, a quieter, steady pattern joined. It was too indistinguishable now. “You’re pregnant,” he said. So quiet he wasn’t sure if he had said it at all. “There’s a baby in there. Our baby.” 

“Pregnant…” (Y/N) could not believe the word even as it rolled out of her tongue. “I can’t believe it.” 

“We’ll go to Deaton tomorrow, but I’m certain. I can hear their heart beating in there.” 

(Y/N)’s mind was reeling. Pregnant, she thought to herself. The word felt foreign. So did her body. Derek had noticed the change before her. How could she not have known that a life was growing inside her? How could she ever be a mother when she did not even know herself?  

Without realizing it, tears fell down her cheeks. She felt weak and panicked. The strong woman that had faced the biggest dangers and far scarier monsters trembled with the thought of a life depending on her for survival. It was one thing to volunteer to protect the members of the pack. They were old enough to fend for themselves. It was another to be responsible for the life and survival of another human. 

“Hey,” Derek called. His voice sounded like it was underwater. So far away that she could barely hear it. “Baby, what’s going on?” 

She hadn’t noticed that she had stood from the bed and was pacing around their room. Her breathing was shallow, and her chest heaved as she took in short breaths, trying to steady herself. Tears kept falling faster than she could wipe them away. They warmed her cheeks before the air turned them cold. It was the only thing that grounded her. 

And Derek. Always Derek. 

He had gotten off the bed, and within a second, he was wrapping his arms around her. The warmth from his skin calmed her. It brought her senses back to the moment, steadying her rampant heart. 

“What’s wrong, (Y/N)?” he spoke into the crook of her neck. “Tell me what I can do to make it better.”  

“I’m scared, Derek,” she sighed, tightening her grip around him. “A baby. Here. Now.”  

“Why not here?” Derek smiled, his hands running through her hair. “Why not now? With you as their mother, that baby could be born underground, and they would be the luckiest child in the world.” 

“How could you be so sure?” (Y/N) cried. “I forget things all the time, I’m clumsy, I can barely redeem myself when it comes to fighting. If it weren’t for my weapons, I wouldn’t bring much to the fight against our enemies. What good would I be to protect a child? How could I be entrusted with their entire upbringing?” 

“Oh, (Y/N). You’re far more valuable than what you bring to a fight.” His hands cradled her face, the green of his eyes boring into hers. “You are the most caring person I know. If it weren’t for you, I would have killed half of the pack by now. You’re smart. You’re funny. And if anyone should be terrified of becoming a parent, it should be me.” 

“Come on,” she scoffed jokingly, her tears finally subsiding. “You’d be an amazing father. Temperamental, but great nonetheless.” 

“Well, I’m glad it at least got you laughing,” he grinned. “How about we just take this one day at a time, baby? Make sure we take things slow. Tell people on our own time. Instead of going to the doctor, we buy a pregnancy test at the pharmacy; confirm what I already know.” 

“But if you can hear the heartbeat, I am sure all the other wolves will, too,” she worried. “How am I supposed to take things as they come when everyone will know the second they come here?” 

“Then, I won’t let anyone back here,” he smiled. “I’ll have them meet me at the warehouse or at Argent’s place. We can say you’re sick with something and won’t be there. Or that you went to visit family out of state –I don’t know. The point is, we can do this, baby. I know we can.” 

“Well, I do admire your tenacity,” she chuckled, kissing his lips softly and hugging him again. “One day at a time, right?” 

“One day at a time.” 

And it worked. For two months, at least. 

That very morning, he went out and returned home with five pregnancy tests and a bouquet of flowers. And five minutes later, they all showed an array of dark pink plus signs and the word Pregnant on them. Just like that, it had been confirmed. A new baby Hale would be coming to Beacon Hills in eight months. 

They were excited. Of course, they were. But they couldn’t help the terror that overtook them as well. Bringing a new life into their world was a scary thought. The fact that anyone with knowledge of their child could use them against them was terrifying. Still, they wanted that baby more than anything they had wanted before. 

The child that grew inside of (Y/N) was the tangible representation of their love. Evidence that everything life had thrown at them had not been able to push them apart, not for a second. They had been through hell and back, always together, and they had come out of every single occasion stronger than before. That baby was the final piece to their equation. 

The next day, they went to the first available OB/GYN about an hour from the town. The doctor confirmed what they already knew, adding the new fact that she was around seven weeks along. The process was more than uncomfortable, but the result was well worth it. A tiny blob appeared on the screen, and the sound of a rapid heartbeat filled their ears. It made tears well up in their eyes. That tiny thing would soon turn into their baby. And even though it didn’t even have a distinguishable shape, they had fallen in love with them. 

At first, they thought they would pass the first trimester in bliss. That they would only grow more and more excited as the days passed. And they would have. Had it not been for all the symptoms that overtook (Y/N). 

She spent most of her day hunched over the toilet seat, emptying whatever was in her stomach. Even when she thought she could keep food down, an hour or two later, she would be in the bathroom letting it out. And if she wasn’t vomiting, she was ransacked with deep waves of nausea. Then, her breasts started to swell, painful jabs running through her every few days. In addition to heartburn and fatigue, it made her question just how worth it a baby could be. 

But Derek had been attentive as ever, if not a little overbearing. He had kept his promise of moving where the meetings were held, claiming that the loft was under renovation while (Y/N) was out of town for a bit. It wasn’t a complete lie, though. He used his downtime to clean up around the house and fix things he had put off for far too long. 

He fed her saltine crackers and electrolyte drinks, rubbed her back, and held her hair, and he loved her. Every day and every night, he loved her. Even when he had to stay up cleaning the bathroom or he had to carry her back to bed. He loved her through everything. 

“You did this to me,” she had groaned one day. “All I want is to eat chips and pickles, but I can’t keep anything down.”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” he responded, drawing circles on her back as he cradled her body in the bathroom. “Hopefully, in a week, it’ll subside. You’re almost out of the first trimester, and the morning sickness should get better.”

“Stop reading pregnancy books,” she whined. “By the time this bun is fully baked, you’ll know more than me.” 

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Derek chuckled but swallowed his laughter as (Y/N) gifted him an angry scowl. “Okay, okay. I think the ten books I’ve read will do.”

(Y/N) remained quiet and threw her head against his chest. His arms snaked around her body, a comfort she allowed herself to sink into. The warmth from his body felt nice against her shivering skin. But just his presence was enough to comfort her, regardless of the words she spoke. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been snappy these past few days,” she sighed. Her eyes closed as he wrapped his arms tighter around her, her head falling against his chest. “I love this baby, and I love you, but I don’t love puking all the time. And peeing all the time. And being tired all the time. I want to fast forward to the next few months.” 

“Hey, you can be snappy with me all you want. I can take it,” he said with a smile. “I will be right here every step of the way because I love you. More than you could ever know.” 

“Even when I’m all big and bloated?” (Y/N) chuckled, her hands falling onto the growing small bump. “They're already trying to deform my body.” 

“Well, at least you’re glowing.”

“No,” she sighed. “That’s just sweat.”

“Then you look beautiful covered in sweat,” he laughed. “Now, let’s get you to bed. Alright?” 

(Y/N) could only nod and wrap her arms around his neck as he carried her back to bed, laying right next to her. Even if he couldn’t take this discomfort away, he was trying his best to make things better for her. 

Another week passed, and things started to shift. The woman would only occasionally feel the need to throw up her food, but the constant nausea and heartburn had subsided. And once (Y/N) saw her baby's small fingers and feet in their 12-week ultrasound, she knew it had all been worth it. 

She also knew they couldn’t keep the secret to themselves any longer. 

The pack had become angsty. Wondering when (Y/N) would be coming back from her supposed trip. Two and a half months was far too long to just be with family. With no imminent danger in sight, they had too much time to check up on everyone else. 

“I think it’s time we tell them,” (Y/N) told Derek as they watched a movie. She cradled her small bump, something she had unconsciously started to do. “We’re almost at the five-month mark, and I think it’ll be too hard to hide.”

“Do we really?” he groaned. “I can just keep you hidden here until the nine months are up. They don’t have to know a thing.”

“You would really keep the mother of your child sequestered in these walls until I give birth?”

“Maybe even more,” he shrugged. “Maybe I’ll keep you here forever.”

“You’re quite funny, Mr. Hale,” she chuckled. “But they are our friends —our family. They deserve to know there’s one more person to protect.”

“I’ve just really liked this time,” he sighed. His chin rested on her shoulder, his beard tickling her exposed skin. “You know, just you and me. Basking in the time we won’t have once everyone knows and once the baby is here. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, (Y/N). A family of my own, that I can love and protect. A home that’s ours.”

“And we will have that,” she smiled. “We’re just allowing more love in. The best part, at the end of the day, we can just kick them out.” 

“When you put it that way,” he laughed before kissing her lips, savoring her. “Alright, fine. We’ll tell them next Saturday.” 

“Thank you, Der. It’s gonna be great.”

And it should have. 

Had it not been for the million things that went wrong that week. The A/C was busted for a total of four days, a pipe burst in one of the bathrooms, the paint they had ordered for the nursery had been put on back order, and the Camaro had to be taken into the shop for tuning. Thing after thing occurred, piling onto an already stressful time. 

Nevertheless, the week came and went. And before either of them knew it, Saturday had rolled in. 

To say (Y/N) was nervous was an understatement. For some reason, anxiety was taking over her body. Its claws dug themselves deep into her being. It made her veins run cold and her heart speed. She didn’t know how any of them would react to the baby. Even to the fact that they had kept it from them for so long. And although Derek tried his best to calm her worries, they had already made a home inside her head. 

“God, what if they hate the fact that I’m pregnant?” (Y/N) worried as she laid out more food than necessary on the kitchen counter. “What if they find the idea of bringing a child into a messed up world to be the worst thing ever?” 

“Who cares, baby? It’s our child,” Derek tried to reassure. “We are the ones that will be raising them. The ones to protect them. Always and forever.

“But they say it takes a village, Der. And that is one thing that I know is true. I mean, at some point, we will need their help.”

“And you really think we won’t have it,” he said, rounding the kitchen island. His hands traveled her body and, in one swift move, had her sitting on the counter. At eye level, he could stare directly into her glossy eyes. “We have been through everything with these people. Even the ones I hated at the beginning have become my closest friends. I’m 100% sure they’ll be thrilled that you’re pregnant.”

He snaked his hand to her chin, pulling her down for a soft kiss. But once their lips made contact, it was too much of a temptation to keep it chaste. Soon enough, their tongues danced together, and their hands pulled each other closer. It left them breathless and excited, wanting —needing more. 

“Uh, we can come back if it’s a bad time,” Stiles’ voice rang through the apartment, startling them apart. “But you guys did invite us here. So, it’s kind of bad on you guys.” 

“No. Yes! I mean, it’s not a bad time,” (Y/N) chuckled as she jumped off the counter, hiding her stomach with a comically large bowl. “We just got carried away, I guess.”

“The one day they decide to show up on time,” Derek grumbled under his breath. “Come in, why don’t you?” 

Before they knew it, the apartment was filled with werewolves, a banshee, other werehumans and supernatural beings, and their very own abominable snowman. The couple remained in the kitchen as everyone situated themselves, whispering under their breath what the best way to go about it would be. 

“Not to be pushy,” Peter called out. “But if you guys only called us over for some food, I have better things to do than hang around children all day.”

“You do know we’re all well above the age of eighteen, right?” Isaac retorted. “It’s been quite some time since we have been children.” 

“You’re still younger than me, correct?” 

“Well, yeah…” 

“Then children,” he said. “So, what is it? Am I staying, or am I leaving?” 

“Settle down, Peter,” Derek responded, biting back the urge to roll his eyes. “We do have something important to announce to everyone and would very much appreciate it if you just listen.” 

“Fine,” he frowned. “But you have ten minutes of my time before I decide to leave.” 

“All we need is a couple of seconds, really,” (Y/N) said with a smile on her face so sweet no one dared say anything else. “I’m sure you heard that I was away for a while and that we were undergoing renovations here. Which, as you can tell by the lack of changes, was not true. Derek lied on my behalf and moved any necessary meetings out of our home because I needed this time to myself as I underwent a sort of change in my life.” 

“Oh my god, you’re dying,” Stiles worried. “Is it cancer? Is it at least treatable?” 

“It’s nothing like that, Stiles,” she reassured with a soft chuckle. “But thank you for worrying. It’s just as life-changing but not necessarily life-threatening. At least, I’m hoping it’s not. But you could never be sure until…” 

“(Y/N), you’re rambling,” Derek whispered in her ear. “It’s nothing bad.”

“You’re pregnant!” Lydia exclaimed, a bright smile adorning her face. 

“How would you know that?” Malia questioned. “I thought you predicted death, not new life.” 

“It’s common sense,” she shrugged, disregarding the comment. “She’s been hiding for months. The place smells like paint, and nothing in this room is painted, so I can only assume it’s a bedroom. And she hasn’t stepped out from behind the island that just so happens to cover her stomach. Two and two always makes four.” 

“Except on this occasion, it made three,” (Y/N) chuckled. She walked around the counter and joined Derek’s side, her bump finally on display for everyone to see. “But, yes, Lydia, I am pregnant. Almost five months now.” 

A shower of ‘holy crap’s and ‘oh my god’s rained over them as, one by one, the pack got to their feet and hugged the couple in congratulations. They rejoiced together and started planning how to spoil little baby Hale even before they were born. Every single person was as excited and overjoyed as Derek and (Y/N) were, anxious for when the baby was born. 

Well, except Peter. 

“Yeah, next time you have these kinds of news, little nephew, make sure to make it an email,” he grumbled, looking at his watch. “Can’t believe I canceled evening plans for a pregnancy announcement.” 

“We love you too, Peter,” (Y/N) laughed. “Maybe if you leave now, you can still make it to whatever it is that you had planned.” 

“I’m already here,” he shrugged as he sat back down on the sofa. “Might as well take advantage of the free food.” 

“Ignore him,” Derek told her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “He can’t take this moment away from us. It’s all ours.” 

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[gay-dorito-dust]

scar with a gn! Reader that’s crazier then him :3 (headcanons please)

You probably caught a glimpse of him one day could feel this chaotic and intense energy about him, which would’ve been enough to have anyone making the smart decision to leave while they could.

for you however, it was more or less the opposite and it wasn’t long before you’d actively tried seeking him out, causing chaos and discord however you could just in the hopes of getting an audience with the man known as Scar.

You knew of the stories that have been told about him but you didn’t care and instead found something to bond with him over; wanting to watch everything go up in smoke as the fires blazed on well into the night.

Scar saw you both as kindred spirits, people who saw things as they really were whilst everyone else was more or less content with living in ignorant bliss.

If anyone were to call your love deranged or unstable, Scar would gladly destroy them in whatever ways he felt suited them best, as he went on a triad about how yours and his love was a genuine, one of a kind love that couldn’t be replicated because people didn’t have the same passion for destruction and desolation like you two did.

So in his eyes, anyone else’s definition of love was false in comparison to yours as yours stemmed from an obsession that bloomed from a simple glance.

Scar would preach whilst holding you close as a village burns to cinders that you were soulmates, two halves of the same soul that were forced to live separate lives because you were deemed too powerful of a force when together. so they had to rip you both apart while they could to preserve their definition of ‘peace.’

Your dates were…unique to say the least, such as participating in his experimentations and misleading good and well meaning people for fun and laughing when they come back a monstrosity of their own creation, as you’d let them believe.

You: would you burn everything for me? Would you even kill thousands for me my dearest Scar?

Scar: I’d do so and much, much more, charred corpses that would try to take you away from me, try to persuade you into leaving me or even exist within the same space as you will be used as an cautionary art piece; an example for everyone else that they’d too would suffer a similar fate made purely for our entertainment.

*he grabs at your face and leans in real close* they are merely mortals fooling themselves into thinking they’re smart enough to speak upon issues regarding those of a higher power and purpose. Do you hold me in the same regard, my desire?

You, leaning your forehead against his, looking deep into his eyes that were unusually soft in this moment: if I had it my way there’d be no one left alive to look at what’s mine. I’d rip out my own heart if I could to prove that it only beats for you and you could do whether you’d like with it for as long as you want. Cage it? Destroy it? Preserve it for all time always? My heart is yours to toy with.

You truly were a match made in a demented, morbid version of heaven.

Scar would probably test how much you love him by making you do the most morally questionable shit known to man, if you succeed, you’ve proven your love was genuine but if you failed, then he guesses you didn’t love him as much as you declared you did.

However once you’ve become scar’s, you were forfeiting your freedom in order to shape yourself into being the prefect lover for him, however that was the plan to being with wasn’t it?

[suckerforcate]

Hii I love your fics :))

I have a few fic ideas for Emily x fem reader but id never get around to write them myself :)

So I have an idea for a fluffy one where the reader is new to the BAU and has never been on a plane before and is nervous flying and it’s Emily comforting them

Or a more smutty one where Reader is over at Emily’s house or at a party or something and they decide to sneak away and end up playing strip poker

Aviophobia

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x fem!Reader

Word Count: 797

Warning: anxiety over flying?

Summary: it's your first time flying on the BAU Jet or any plane in general, and you're a bit panicked. Emily calms you.

A/n: It's a pretty short one, but quite cute!! I have the second request in my notes, can't promise I'll write it tho!! Hope you like it anon <3 Would love a repost or comment!!

■----------------------------------------■

This was definitely not normal, was it? Surely you would die now. This was it. You had survived fights with Serial Killers, abductions and an explosion of a bomb. But the first plane ride in your life was that one step too far. That one step that just wasn't justified anymore. You were going to die today.

"Hey, you alright?" Derek's voice cut through your thoughts as he walked past you, stopping for a moment to take a look at you. You were gripping the arm rests like they'd alone keep you alive, and your face felt like it had to be as white a sheet.

"Perfectly fine." You pressed out and gave him a smile that even felt painful. Judging by the face he made, it also looked painful. But thankfully he didn't press the matter and simply walked away.

You shut your eyes again, desperately trying not to panic as the flight gets a bit bumpy. You leaned your head back against the seat and took a deep breath. Just when you thought you'd calmed a bit you hit an air pocket.

You practically felt your heart sink into your stomach, your hand desperately flying to the closest living thing to get comfort from. Which in this case happened to be Emily's leg. She had it propped up on her seat, while reading a book.

As she felt your hand tightly grip onto her leg she looked up from her book surprised. You were honestly too panicked to even register anything. Your eyes were closed, fingers digging into Emily's leg and breathe a bit shaky. You just opened your eyes when you felt a warm hand on your own.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Emily softly asked you as you looked at her. You gave her an apologetic look and loosened your grip a bit, her fingers immediately intertwining themselves with yours. It did wonders to soothe your racing heart.

But just until you hit another air pocket. You squeezed her hand, so tightly it must have surely cut off the blood flow. Realisation crept over her face and her features softened immensely.

"Are you afraid of flying?" She asked, her thing gently brushing over your knuckles. The plane stabilised, and the flight got less bumpy, so you relaxed a bit.

"Apparently. Never flown before today." You admitted and shrugged. It was your first flight ever, and it turned out you did not like it at all. Emily nodded understandingly.

"You know, nothing is going to happen. Turbulence or air pockets are not dangerous. Spencer once said plane crashes mostly occur in the first five minutes or the last eight minutes of the flight." Emily spoken trying to calm you. She had probably not given the information out completely correct, but that didn't really matter. It still slightly calmed you.

"We're right in the middle of it, so it's very improbable that we'll crash." She spoke, voice still soft and soothing. She gave you a reassuring smile that actually helped. You weren't sure what exactly it was about her, but Emily never failed to calm you. In the few weeks you'd been working with the team, Emily had always been the one you had turned to for questions or advice.

"Sorry that I'm so anxious." You apologised, trying to laugh it off nervously. Emily simply shook her head.

"No, it's okay. Flying can be scary." How could one person be so sweet? She didn't judge you, didn't make fun of you or mock you. She simply assured you.

"Why did you never fly before?" She asked gently, her thumb still brushing over your knuckles. You realised it was an attempt to distract you. But you didn't mind.

"We never really had money to go anywhere far away and pay for plane tickets. So we stayed close to home." You explained and shrugged. A life very different to Emily's as the ambassador's daughter.

"We used to always do road trips though. My sister and I could pick the music, and we always got Fast Food. It was the only time we were allowed McDonald's." You spoke, a slight hint of nostalgia in your voice. It had been an obvious attempt to calm you, but it had been efficient nonetheless. You were feeling much calmer.

It became routine. In the plane you sat next to Emily, and she held your hand throughout the whole flight. No matter how long it was. And she always fluid something to talk about, something to get your mind off of the fact that you were much higher up in the sky than was ever meant for human beings. Emily knew you couldn't avoid the plane rides. It was part of the job. But she did her best to make them easier for you.

[jolapeno]

iv. a date missed is a date lost

joel miller x f!reader | chapter four of honey stained hands

chapter summary: when you don't make it back from patrol, joel doesn't think for a second about not going to find you.

wordcount: 4.8k warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. canon-level violence (desc of injuries and blood, but nothing insane). reader is a bad ass. injury/comfort — and from Joel. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). mentions of brief smut. this pair are together but won't admit it. joel is pissed and we love him for it. talks of readers grief (you lose someone from before but not many deets) an: for those who waited, thank you. to those who have just stumbled here: hello, you don't need to take off your shoes.

In time, daylight begins its gradual retreat, casting shorter shadows and making flashlights more of a necessity in the nighttime.

The blankets of white persist, marking winter’s icy caress across rooftops, the ground and anything else it can layer itself against.

At one point, fairy lights go up and then come back down. Briefly twinkling like scattered stars before eventually returning to their storage—time ticking on, days seeping into weeks, then months.

There comes a moment when the snow falls heavier, then thins, only to fall again in abundance, dousing the world as far as Joel's eyes can see.

But, the biggest change Joel notices, is that he begins to dream a lot less of you. No longer a distant fantasy but a tangible presence beside him, a reality woven into the fabric of his days.

He doesn’t need to think you up, you’re already there. Curled against him—facing him—hand under your cheek as you breathe in and out, soft and measured. Like this, you don't appear as a threat to the world, but he knows when awake what you’re capable of.

Just like he knows, deep down, this isn’t just neighbourly friends or nightcaps on the porch—or better yet, occasional sex to pass the time. Even if it all began as such.

It may have started as a carnal need, a teeth-sinking, nail-digging desperation. All akin to a time when he was a teenager, both of you waiting for the door to click shut behind Ellie—as she heads to a friend’s house—before he’s on you, pulling a giggle, a soft shriek of his name before you’re scraping and stripping him until he’s hardening in your hand, mouth or against your thigh.

Lately, it’s soft brushes of thumbs, mouth grazing over exposed skin and whimpers of his name; now, it’s a look—a quiet retreat, slow mornings and lazy nights. Your fingers find purpose on his cheek, eyes seeking his as he buries himself deep, making your mouth part in an O—just as he always does.

Too good for me, Miller. You’re too sweet for me, honey.

A joke. A tease that should be getting old, but isn’t.

Then, your things found themselves with his—or his with yours.

A jumper on his floor, his shirt hung on the handle of your bedroom; his guitar relocating as he does, sometimes against his bedroom wall, and sometimes against yours.

It became morning walks to the pen as he left for patrol and him meeting you at the gate, each time a little different. There are evenings of him arriving home to find you there, cooking—Ellie next to you, nodding, listening to instruction; then there are those where he sits in solitude, counting seconds until he thinks he can invite himself over.

There was even a progression to how the two of you left the bar, when things began to mean more. At first, you had just walked next to him. The next you brushed your fingers against his and the third he found you leaning into him, following him, not even pretending to go home and choosing to follow him inside his.

Truthfully, he’s not sure there’s a reason the two of you live in different houses—even if they’re side by side. Pretending there’s no concrete explanation, even if it lingers in the back of his mind. It rears its head when the night creaks in, rotting in a corner of his mind, a thought he should ponder over, pluck strings to until it makes sense—until he rationalises whether he can do it. Love, that is.

He’s ‘changed’, according to Tommy. Although, he’s not sure what that means. It’ll add to the pile, one he has to sort through but never does. Content with it, the things that weigh him down, deep down knowing he’s worthy of it—because his hands are stained even if they don’t appear as such.

Then, you’ll do something. Hand him a tin of shortbread, a smile—all wicked, and unwilling to be read—spreading and spreading. “It’s not a gift—it means nothing.”

“Whatever y’tell yourself.”

And then he’s confused all over again.

Whether it’s possible, whether he’s earned it—deserving of another chance. A twinge of pain when he remembers long hair against his neck in Boston, and the way her hands were as blotted as his.

You’re not her, but you’re smudged in your own way. Made of something entirely different, yet born from a similar pain he can see. You rose from the marshes, bones hardened thanks to the branches—grew strong from the soil and dirt. You’re one with nature in a way that made him wonder if the wind talked to you.

A thing he admires, the same way he does about a lot of things.

He supposes it would be easier, and simpler.

Not just loving you but having you here. You and your fire that warms all it touches, your kind disposition that you pretend not to have, but it rolls from you in plenty.

Less traipsing from home to home, less of him misplacing his things amongst your counters and sitting in your kitchen as you bake, only to take the treats with him next door, his fingers inside yours.

And, even if two of you are unwilling to put a name to the thing they are. We’re adults, Joel. We don’t need that, do we? It wouldn’t be terrible—a thing he rather likes. But, he likes it more that you don’t feel the need for it. Because in an ocean of complexity, you’re the thing that makes sense—the one thing he understands.

Doesn’t need to turn over much except what’re you thinking, what ticks behind your glazed eyes and whether the seconds you linger at the red toolbox are shortening or if he’s just becoming used to it—

“Joel, is that—oh my fuck…”

Your hands grasp at the VHS in his hand—fingers turning it over, that line appearing on your forehead that tells him you’re thinking, catching up to the actuality before it’s been told to you.

“Evenin’ to you too—”

“—What did you trade for this?”

Shrugging, he shoves his hand into his jeans—the ones that have grown tighter, barely able to fit the same hand that it used to, comfortably.

“Joel.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs. “Y’think you wanna watch it with me?”

Licking your lips, you place it down on the counter, face blank, fucking unreadable. “What, like a date?”

Shrugging, he smiles. “Would that be terrible?”

“No, suppose it wouldn’t be.”

Nudging you, he likes how you paint him in a laugh. Something rich, warm.

“I’ve got patrol—but, can freshen up, come round after?” you suggest, hand on his chest. “You don’t sleep without me anyway.”

And he nods. Already mentally beginning to count down, watching you smile, ticking his jaw from side to side.

“I’d wipe that.”

“What?”

Licking your lips, you smirk. “The smile—people will think you’re soft.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Will if I begin spreading it.”

He just pinches you on the ass.

In the whole of his life, there have been only six times when Joel’s blood ran cold.

An expression he'd never understood until the first time it happened.

He had never expected the saying to mean a chill blasting down his spine. Or that sounds and scents would blur to nothing as his stomach twisted, just like he never anticipated the prickling sensation spreading across his skin like a thousand icy needles and rendering everything else inconsequential in comparison.

Tommy had been the first, all little, barely the same height as the kitchen counter. Nose bloody, swollen upper lip and a look on his face that made Joel want to snap arms and break skulls. He had settled for breaking the nose of the kid who had picked a fight with his baby brother.

The second was far worse—the first time Sarah first got ill. All little coughs, splutters—a temperature hotter than a stove, harsh cries and soft pleading whimpers that she couldn’t articulate or describe. A helplessness he hadn’t been able to explain or shake, not in the days after, or the weeks and months. In truth, Joel isn’t sure he ever slept quite the same.

The third was that night. When it dawned, when it hammered into him like a thousand needles and pierced every single part of who he was. When it broke him. Snapped him. Made him come apart and yet still exist—kneeling, the blood growing gummy and cold. Leaving her there, not taking his baby girl with him. A part of his heart, soul and reason left there in tall grass as he was forced to put one foot in front of the other.

The fourth had been when Tommy had left—when he’d realised it. When he saw the life he had and wondered what the fuck had happened. It bled horribly into the fifth. A dread as he saw the mark, the bite—the realisation she would be taken too: Tess. The new normal he’d made coming undone too, seams burst, emptiness spreading, rising and rising until he felt nothing but fire and ice simultaneously.

Ellie in that hospital had been the sixth. Joel hadn’t even known he could experience another. His heart was not made of iron like he tried to convince himself when he was younger. A tightness that didn’t resolve until he held her in his arms, till he kept her safe, until he blazed through the building ripping and tearing until her pulse was against his fingers.

He’d never expected to feel it a seventh.

Had thought his cards had all been dealt. A person could surely only have so many chances at having things to love, to care for—to have it all received back too.

There’s not a single sound when Tommy tells him. Informs him.

There’s just ringing. It douses everything else, his fingers rubbing against his thumb, his knees cracking before his head catches up to the fact he’s standing, fingers clenching and unclenching.

A fire rising, not smothered—not willing to be snuffed out by action and thinking. Not as he sees the words being said, confirmed.

Because deep down he’d known what was coming before they were muttered. Had felt them.

He’d been aware your plate was no longer warm, steam no longer rising, food all but congealing, cold—practically unedible. His eyes had been pinned to the clock on the wall, to the way the big hand nudged the smaller one on.

He hates that he hesitates.

That he remains, feet planted to the floorboards of his home. Eyes flicking to Ellie, to this person he swears to protect, to be there for, a second chance amongst a graveyard of mistakes—

“If you don’t go after her, I’ll never forgive you.”

Strong words. But then, she’s strong.

He’s seen it when she talks to you, all hushed whispers and confessed secrets. Sees it in her shoulders even when she curls into your side for a half-hug, your arm sliding around, head resting on the top of hers.

Because you mean something to Ellie too.

Which is why he can’t remain—shouldn’t. All unwilling to let anyone talk him into waiting, for a plan to be devised, to be drawn up and communicated.

Because you wouldn’t. There’d be nothing that’d keep you back, from going, from doing.

We’re doers, me and you, Miller. We don’t wait around for people to decide, we act.

Each step seems to echo that with his sorrow—with that knot inside of him. The corners of his eyes narrow as anger shakes through him, hammering and solidifying itself in some corner of him—weighing him down, making his boots dig more intently into the snow.

Because you were right—knuckles brushing over his cheek when the two of you shared a sliver of what happened to you that day. It had changed him, that birthday all those years ago. A brief glance at his watch, the one he still wears, never forgotten, never fixed. It compelled him to action, a force that surged within him, driving him forward, taking and taking until his knuckles burst through flesh—becoming it, a doer, a thing which took and survived.

Maybe that’s why this keeps happening.

Why good keeps being taken from him? It’s never thieved, never sneakily tugged from under his nose, but rather openly and brazenly taken. It’s this that forces his hands to clutch the reins tighter as the cool wind whips past him, tracing the tracks, envisioning the exact route you would have taken. Only coming to a stop when the snow becomes undisturbed, dismounting with a groan.

It makes a lump rise in his throat. One that doesn’t vanish when he begins tying the horse to a tree—patting her and stroking her. Because he’s too old for this. Too old for the caring, the chasing, the losing, and the fear. His palm against the animal, feeling the heartbeat inside, grounding him for just a moment.

But, even if he is, he’s not letting it, them or whatever take you.

Not as he pulls on gloves and tilts his neck until it cracks. Not as he thinks about the last time he was out here with you—a treat, you’d called it: we’ve swapped partners for the day. Don’t make me go alone, Miller. As if he ever would. A thing which earned him a different kind of gasp when your spine met a tree trunk, gloves fingers sliding through his hair, a laugh there on your lips—desperate to greet the air, if not for his lips smothering it away, silencing it.

He replays it.

Desperately wanting for nothing more than for that laugh, that smile—that snark and its bite. Joel wants bark under his nails and for it to be finding a home under yours too—a reminder, a badge of honour. He wants nature to attempt to cover up the sound of his skin slapping against yours; wants the wind to try and compete with the moans he extracts from your throat.

He wants.

He wants.

He wants.

Hand tightening around the gun, he swallows—vision whitening in the corner of his eyes as his jaw tightens.

A figurative storm cloud rising above him, grey and thundering, cracking as he hears you say don’t sleep without me anyway on repeat. Over and over. That smirk carved into him, scraped in with sheer gut and will.

Then, he replays Tommy. The words which are supposed to bring comfort, but just bring more rage. “She’s good, Joel” doesn’t bring you home, the same as “He’s good—one I know can pull his weight”, because is he as good as him? As good as you?

Is the man who is meant to have your back as much of a monster as him—as the two of you?

He learns in half a mile that he wasn’t. An answer left, presented—all lit up in scarlet. Neck snapped. Anger let loose on the man who had smiled at him around and about. Gone. Left to decompose and erode.

Joel wonders what it says about him that he feels nothing when he removes the weapons from the man’s belt. Taking what he can before leaving, and continuing on.

At each step, he hopes you’re as good as he thinks you are. Each breath heaved from Joel’s chest he hoped you were still beating, it hanging in the frigid air in front of him, a visible reminder of the feeling he had forgotten about—allowed himself to forget—fear.

How it isn't just about dread, but rather the erosion of faith—a corrosion of belief, leaving him almost gasping for air. There’s a curse there too, simmering on his tongue, desperate to be released and breathed into the oncoming night as he ties another thread around an extended branch. Doing so every so many steps, a guide, a trail for someone else to follow—just in case, forever just in fucking case.

His arm bumps into a tree he passes, one adorned with delicate frost, stood like a sentinel, like the rest around it. Its branches reach out in frozen pleas to the heavens above as snowflakes descend from his bump, a thing falling in a way not too dissimilar to the unrest inside of him, stirring and swirling and all but fucking churning.

Jaw gritted, he swallows. Readying himself to move, to force himself on when he sees it, spots it. The thing you’d once showed him all intentionally.

From the outside, the cabin looks like it usually does.

Worn, broken—far less a structure and more a ruin. But, he knows without opening the door it’s hiding things, concealing unfamiliars and protecting traitors. He can tell.

And it is when he steps inside. Just none of them are breathing.

A full house of horrors. A museum of a fight that hadn’t gone the way, the three he finds in the larger room, would have wanted. One slumped against the wall, a head wound seeping and congealing. The other two lie askew, limbs twisted in ways they shouldn't be. There's a quiet chaos to the scene, a silent testament to a struggle fought with everything at stake.

He checks them all the same, dispatching, covering his back—stepping carefully over loose floorboard and limbs, eyes scanning, all desperately seeking.

Deep down, he’s relieved at the sight of the fallen attackers. A grim confirmation you did not go down without a fight. But another part, one that has been growing with each passing second, is filled with dread, more so as he moves further into the cabin, each step heavier than the last.

The air is stale, tinged with the metallic scent of blood. A scent he's all too familiar with. Following, only to find the next room there’s nothing. Not a thing. Nothing but the door—the one you’d mumbled about being difficult to open—is banging in the breeze. A thud, over and over, like the cabin has a heartbeat that wishes to ring out, and out, and out.

That’s when he finds your note. The singular reason he can hold out hope you’re still alive. Chicken-scratch-proof into pages of a book, your knife stamped as a signature to the backdoor:

compromised, do not look fo—

Joel has never been much of a listener.

Not as he charges outside, not as he sweeps around the new ground with his weapon at the ready. He barely has to look far, before he spots something—a thing out of the ordinary in a clump out at the back.

You. Joel finds you.

You are all but surrounded by clumped white and cherry red, sprawled out on the ground, spots of dark beneath you—a gash on your forehead, blood smeared across your face. The contrast is so rich that it could almost be described as poetic. Somewhat romantic, he supposed. That’s if the poets lingered on the snowflakes hanging from your lashes, instead of the gash to your forehead and the swelling forming along your neck.

But you're breathing. Barely.

His teeth bite at the tips of his gloves, slapping fingers to your pulse, finding it, weak but there, before brushing his knuckles and finding cold skin making him hiss.

You’re smart. A reckoning, a feral monstrous thing that is hard to describe to someone who hasn’t seen you take down a soul twice your size.

Joel liked to tell himself he kept you around for that reason—the fire, the poison woven into your veins that injects into whoever is foolish enough to cross you. But Joel keeps you around for the person you accidentally show him—the one that makes him feel human, less of a beast and someone who has taken, taken, taken.

It’s your grit, your cunning nature, which is why it’s taken him so long to find you. His chest tightened when he was greeted by the scent of iron, all thick—collecting in rooms where you’d fought tooth and nail.

Now, he was standing in the cold piles carved by knees and elbows, your slumped frame, curled as close together—defeated, likely having been convinced you’d never be found before the cold tried to take you as its victim.

But, you’re no victim. No woman who wishes to repent for how you’ve survived or the things you’ve done to breathe easier.

It’s why Joel lifts you, pulls you close—face curling into his neck from the position you fall into, as he’s chilled to the bone by your cold.

“If y’can hear me, hold on.”

He adjusts, even as his back winces—something pinching, hurting, throbbing in the position he’s in on the snow. Hating his age about as much as he hates his bones.

That’s when he whispers your name. Does so like it’s a secret, a thing the forest and the things inside of it aren’t privileged to hear. A thing entrusted to him that he wishes no one else to hear or ever know.

“M’here.”

It’s a mumble. A murmur. The softness barely escapes through clenched, almost chattering teeth—but then your flashes flutter, coated in flakes that shimmy down to your cheek as you attempt to open them.

“Eyes on me—there you are.”

“Stop being c-cute.”

Grimacing, he watches you try to smile—weak, it barely reaching your cheeks, never mind your eyes. “Don’t think anyone's ever called me cute, honey.”’

“Never t-thought someone be storm-m-ing through a forest for me—first time for…”

Looking down, he sees your lashes fluttering, eyes struggling to stay open. Lips still parted around the next word that had yet to fall.

Tapping your cheek, he feels how cold you are. Even here. In nothing but warmth and safety. And he hates that he has to ignore how concerning that is. How hard it is to swallow that you are.

“Don’t stop talkin’ to me now. Might like the silence.”

He feels you laugh. Vibrating against him. More a hiccup than a real laugh, but it’s something.

“I fought—”

“Know you did.”

Nodding, you swallow, cough spluttering in the back of your throat.

"Y' did... y' did real good," he assures, voice thick, chest aching at the sight of you—so strong, yet looking so small and vulnerable against him.

"Did... did I get them?"

Your words are slurred, consciousness fleeting—tiredness trying to sneak you away from him.

"All of 'em," he assures, his grip tightening around you, "Every last one."

He can't be sure if you hear him, your eyes fluttering shut once more.

But he keeps talking, filling the silence with a low, steady stream of words. Comforting nothings, promises of safety, of warmth, of a congealed meal and the VHS. Even as your grip on his hand slackens, your breaths become more shallow, more sporadic. Even when he feels a cold dread creep into his heart, he pushes it away, and focuses on you—on keeping you with him.

"Stay with me," he murmurs, adjusting you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you groan against him when he lifts you with him, "Just a little walk, alright."

The snow crunches under his boots as he carries you back up the path he came, leaving a trail behind. Even in finding you, he knows victory tastes bitter on his tongue—a price too high to pay.

"Y'need t’make it, can’t watch that movie alone."

You snort. It is very much there, before it’s buried—engulfed under a whine of pain as you stand up fully.

Can’t. It’s one word, but it’s louder than all the others you’ve spoken, shared—and given. So, he wraps his arm securely around your waist, leading you, taking as much of your weight as he can.

Joel holds you, clutches you against him—a brief flowering of memories from doing something so similar for Ellie. A thought which brings fresh anger, a bitterness to his tongue. Holding tighter because of it, grips you closer—as though his life depends on it.

Because in a way, it does—a part of him acknowledging that now.

More so as you groan, as you plead to stop in harsh whispers as you grip him weakly, as your foot flops occasionally, legs tired, aching.

It’s not until he’s managed to bring you inside, do you murmur again. Nothing full, nothing understood until he’s removed his coat and wrapped you in it, helped lean you against a wall do you say anything more than a groan.

“Tired.”

Hands encased in his, Joel warms them, as the moon bleeds tendrils in through slats and the half-made window. “I know. C'mon, stay with me.”

Your eyes flutter open, glazed and barely focusing on him. "I'm...trying," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

"Good," he murmurs, stroking your hair back from your forehead. "That's all I need. Just...keep trying."

His head turns, looking through the window, seeing the placement of the moon, and wondering if it’ll be morning before someone comes—before someone follows and helps. Just mumbling about anything, joking it’s the most he’s talked, doing so in a voice that mocks your own, doing something, anything to try and keep you awake—keep you warm.

"I should've been there. I should've..."

He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't need to.

The regret, the guilt, it's all there in his voice, in his eyes. And you squeeze his hand feebly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. "Not...not your fault, Joel."

He nods, swallowing hard. "I know. I just...I wish I could've..."

“He made it. This place,” you begin, voice low, barely a breath.

Your eyes focused on some floorboard, not leaving, unwilling to lift to him, even as his head tilts.

“Came out all the time with that red f-fucking toolbox,” you continue, swallowing, wincing as you use your shoulder to itch your cheek.

“He was just a neighbour, a person I knew the first name of. Then he was a-all I had, a friend, then family—a b-brother. I’d… I’d never… and then he was just… gone. Survived all those years, survived all of that, only for s-sleep to take him as soon as we got here.”

Your eyes lift, haunted by sorrow, by exhaustion and something so much more.

And he has no words—not enough for this, none enough to make any of this make sense or feel better.

“I saw him. I—I know he’s gone, know it wasn’t real, but I just closed my eyes, just so I could see him again. And then…”

Your words trail off, a choked sob taking their place as you curl into yourself.

A sound so full of brokenness it makes something inside of him shatter a little, more so when Joel feels you pull your hands free, all rough and worn, clutching around yourself, at the material of his coat—gripping so tight it’s almost as if you’re trying to hold yourself together.

“You think he’d be mad that you saved me—that I’m g-glad you saved me?”

Swallowing, he cups your cheek with his palm. “I think if he’s anything like you, he’d be glad you fought.”

Nodding, you smile, the base of your palm wiping your tears as your lip wobbles. “Can y-you hold me?”

Nodding, he shuffles, and buries a groan in his throat as he manoeuvres a man his age shouldn’t, until he can, until he is. Having you as close as you’ll humanly fucking let him.

Which is how you’re found—a cavalry of those from Jackson, a mixture of surprise and relief etched into their faces when they land on the two of you.

When he suspects they land their eyes on you, and realise, like he did, that you’re the owner of the destruction in the room next to you all.

CHAPTER FIVE ->

AN: next chapter will be quicker i promise, but no strict deadline on when as posting / stepping back into this was a lot.