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snek-panini · 6 months

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Happy Halloween! Have a book:

This is Siren's Song by @kedreeva (Hi! I asked to bind your fic months ago, sorry it took so long XD). It's an incredible Good Omens siren AU, which needs no introduction from me but it gets one anyway. It's one of the most in-character fics I've ever read, tackles a lot of the most resonant themes of the original (love in the context of aromanticism and asexuality, human labels in the context of non-human perspective), and has incredible world-building. Later parts of the fic always make me cry but they're good tears. You'll see. When I first learned that fanbinding was a thing and started looking into how to do it, this was one of the first fics I thought of. It just took me a while to learn the skills I needed before I could do it.

More pics and process talk under the cut!

So the cover up there is black faux leather and momi paper that I bought...about two years ago? And just kept on hand till I was ready to do this project. This is the first time I've worked with it and it was fairly nice, though harder to get a nice crease into than lokta or chiyogami. It felt very fragile when I was handling it but I didn't have any issues with tearing or glue bleed-through like I thought I might. It did bleed some color when I got it damp with the glue, and it took way longer to dry than normal, but once that was done it's been fine. Which is nice because I have a lot left over, so it'll probably be making many future appearances in my binds.

Look! It's rounded! I got a backing setup recently and this is my first time using it. It was Very Hard and I am not very good at it yet. But I think it looks pretty good for a first attempt, and there was really no other way to mitigate the spine swell on this one. I used a thick paper so I've got a thick book. I also tried something new with the case, though it isn't visible. Usually I make the text block and the case separately and then attach them as the last step, but for this one I actually built the case around the text. Like, boards attached to mull/tapes (sandwiched between thinner boards, with grooves cut for them so there are no bulges), then covered with momi, then leather corners and spine, then paste down the endpaper. It's got an oxford hollow, too! The tapes and mull actually wrap around the outside of the boards instead of the inside like I've done before. Endpapers are my favorite feather chiyogami. Combined with the marbled momi they make for a very opulent look, and I had just barely enough to do this. Like, down to the millimeter. I had to trim the edges and then glue the endpapers after to be sure they were right. I'm glad they were, because I didn't have a backup plan. Handmade endbands, colors picked to match the cover. Also, last note, I got the corner bits right for the first time. Measured properly, with no weird pointy bits that come out at funny angles. Very proud.

Title page and bookmark/interior shot. Did you know that some basic fonts in MS Word look different when you use a huge font size? Because I didn't until I made this title page. That's Parchment for the title, and it only gets those swirly bits around the capital letters if you take it to 26pt or higher (I used 72 here). Now I wonder if any of the other fonts have easter eggs in them like that. The ribbon is very fancy, to go along with the rich endpaper/cover combo. I think it's pretty appropriate for a mythological golden age of piracy story, as are the text ornaments:

Chapter header image, chapter end image, and section break image. It was a very image-heavy typeset. I was originally planning to only have a header and a section break, but I couldn't decide whether I liked the ships or the book/shell/feather better, and they both suited the story so well that I just went with both. Again, opulent, but I think it fits. All the images came from rawpixel, all I did was resize them.

There was a small error in the trimming process. Comes of having to calculate so closely the exact amount you can trim off, that you have to trim off so your slightly-too-small endpapers fit. I think something got misaligned when I poked the sewing holes because only the first signature is like this. The rest of the book has a more appropriately-sized margin between the page number and the edge. I got very lucky here, and I know it, and I'm never cutting it this close (lol) again. Next time we just order another sheet of chiyogami.

And that's it! I have one author's copy and one new bind in progress right now (that's taking a while because I'm learning more new stuff for it), and then I have two Christmas gift books to do, so it might be a bit before I have another book to share.

#bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #good omens #fic rec #this one was months in the making #maybe years if you consider i bought the momi in 2021 #long before i started working on the typeset #i love it so much though #when i was done i wanted to carry it around all day and show it to people #like a kid who wants you to put their drawing on the fridge

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satocidal · 6 months

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𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ Da Vinci in making — Gojo Satoru

Warnings: establish relationship; you have a kid together idk

Satoru who sits there with his shoulders shaking and lips bitten hard, as he tries to hold back his laughter.

“It’s a very pretty drawing honey,” you add weakly, your help not worth a dime as your son sighed in his dismay.

The both of you, Mr. and Mrs. (Or another Mr. If that’s what you prefer) Gojo lay in your bed, ready to call it a night when your son hopped into the room all so merrily—in his hands, hoisted his proud little drawing.

But that was the scene 5 minutes before the silly little disaster because as of now, Satoru sat their clutching a pillow to his face as he tried to hide his laughter in vain—“It’s ugly,” your child whined again, deflection plastered over his face.

“Oh baby it’s not- It’s, it’s really p-pretty baby,”

“Why’s dad laughing then?” The innocence in the words of the little boy panged nails of guilt at your heart for you too, struggled to manage your own laughter.

“That’s because,” you paused, it was a hideous drawing, “Because…because,” you stared at your husband, glaring at him—you knew he was aware of your annoyed gaze, “Because my son’s Da Vinci in making,” Satoru mumbled against the plush of the pillow.

And you wondered just how he managed Tsumiki and Megumi when he did—but then Megumi wasn’t exactly happy to be with Satoru anyways.

“Daddy’s an idiot and doesn’t understand the beauty of art,”

And just at that, Satoru cackled into the pillow louder— the annoying idiot, you groaned internally, “It’s alright sweetheart, just gotta practice more right? We- we can put it on the fridge if you want,” your suggestion did lighten his mood a slight.

“But daddy’s…” your son’s dismay confused your heart- torn apart you sat, “Daddy will get it framed if that’s what it takes baby,” you grumbled under your breath—pinching Satoru’s side as you did so, a squeal he let out at that.

Your son smiled softly at his father’s squeal—loving the sound, “You like it mommy?”

“Course’ I do honey,” and that was solace to your little son, who wobbled away—shooting his father the ultimate side eye when Satoru asked for a hug from him.

“You’re such an idiot,” you mumbled as the door closed behind him, huffing at your husband.

“You gotta admit babe,” Satoru grinned, “it was ugly,”

And you had to admit for what it was, a pretty ugly stick man for Satoru that he’d drawn—but surely, it was the thought and effort that counted.

“But alright, I’ll frame it for right above our bed so you can see sexy lil me when I fuck-”

“-Satoru!”

All of this work is entirely original and my own, please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

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weebsinstash · 17 days

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I'm not typically a fan of pregnancy au stuff for hazbin because it introduces a hell lotta new questions, but anyways, I DO find it absolutely entertaining thinking about a Reader who did the nasty with Alastor and had kind of a friends-with-benefits situation with him and he does his whole 7 year disappearing act without warning you or telling you anything at all (assumedly because he did not have a choice or opportunity) and he comes back, knocking on your front door, "say, doll! What's say we mosey on over to our old favorite jazz club to catch up on old times?"

and suddenly peeking out from behind your back is just the cutest little fawn with a head full of curls who is very clearly Alastor's son, clutching at your apron, "Mama, isn't he the man you listen to those old recordings of? He sounds the same"

Alastor feeling this, this WARMTH in his chest as you invite him inside your home and it's completely different from the last time he was there, filled with everything your son could need, his drawings and report cards from that nice school you break your back to afford stuck lovingly on the fridge and a hot home-cooked meal currently cooling on the stove as Alastor's invited for some food... if he feels comfortable. You and him discuss privately where your son can't hear as you get all weepy, "I'm sorry, but when you disappeared, I couldn't... ASK you what you would have wanted... I didn't want to have some kind of, of PROCEDURE and you hate me for it... and even from the very first scan, I loved him so much... he's my entire world... I couldn't even CONSIDER... getting rid of him. He's my beautiful smart baby boy and i would die for him"

Genuinely I think it would be real funny if Alastor is initially quite jealous actually for having to share you with a CHILD, but the more time he spends around the young boy, the more he realizes, oh, this is quite the upstanding young fellow! His mama raised him right and he likes to help around the house, likes to read lots of books, loves all kinds of music, helps his mother on all the crosswords and word searches and puzzle books, and he's smart enough to suss out pretty quickly, "sir are you my father"

and the second your son receives an answer, just, KICKING THE RADIO DEMON IN THE SHIN, "You're a horrible man!! You call yourself a gentleman but you left my mama to raise a baby all by herself!! You're terrible! Incorrigible! Disrespectful! Untoward!--" Your young son is breaking out the goddamn dictionary and synonyms on this man, "you lying, deceitful, devious, DEPLORABLE--"

And Alastor is watching this little kid threaten to beat his ass and not even caring that he's up against The Infamous Radio Demon, just shouting at Alastor until the young boy is absolutely changing colors in the face, getting SO SO upset for his mama that he's ready to FIGHT OVER IT, and Alastor is just, essentially, breaking out into laughter, "oh, so you ARE my son!! Aren't you a gutsy one!! Put JUST a little force behind that next one and it might actually sting a bit!" and pats the boy on the head. That settles it; he's accepted as Alastor's son like THAT

Of course, Alastor now caring for this boy does not come without its... complications. There might be some 'incidents' if you, for example, have other positive role models for your son, other men who are regularly coming around, making Alastor's new position as the boy's father and your not-quite-husband (yet) feel threatened and unstable and encouraging the Radio Demon to 'act out'. You're so happy to have Alastor back in your life that you don't even notice things are a little off until your son starts mentioning things like "Mama where did Mr Thomas go? He used to come by every Thursday to play chess but I don't remember seeing him for a while?" "Mama I know Benson has bullied me and pushed me down and stolen my things but I saw his mom crying outside the bookstore earlier saying he's gone missing and I think we should help look for him" "Mama I know Mr Alastor said we don't need her and he can teach me but I also like my old piano teacher. Could I have some lessons with her and some with Mr Alastor instead of just all of them with him? I miss Ms. Mason"

But like... you don't want to deny Alastor a relationship with his child after they both have already lost so much time and you don't want to deprive your son of his father without a good reason, so you stifle some of your suspicions. It's all for your son's sake, isn't it? And you can't help but, get a little selfish when Alastor insists on taking you and your boy out, going to see live bands, going to local events, taking your son to the county fair and you feeling tears in your eyes as, your boy finally gets to spend time with his father. It's like... it's like you're a real family... you've always wanted something like this, for him, for them, for yourself--

But... Alastor doesn't... see you THAT way, does he? He displays his emotions much differently than you, and there were even times in the past where Alastor himself drew the line in the sand that, oh yes you two were quite close friends, he has such a deep affection for you, but... romantically? Sorry, sweetheart, but no

... or so he thought. Now that he's back, he sees how deeply you love his son and sacrifice so much for him amd how much your son absolutely adores you and how, completely by yourself, without any of Alastor's help, you raised him into a fine young man that... the Radio Demon could see himself helping raise, a boy he can't help but feel a little pride in helping make and, can't help but feel a little sad he missed all sorts of important milestones for. And of course, of course of course of course, he missed YOU ever so much, and when Alastor looks up from his paper to see you at the stove, hair all out of place and your hands messy as you cook a meal for your son and his father, your little boy dutifully helping clean as you go, he can't help wish that THIS was how he spent his last 7 years.

Lucifer have mercy on anyone who tries to disrupt his new utopia of peace and tranquility. Could you even imagine, could you even fucking imagine you and Alastor are walking with your son and nearby TVs snap on and it's fucking Vox, showing your family on TV, talking shit to Alastor, using HORRIBLE language in front of your son--

And Alastor feels his love for you grow all the more as you use your own magic to surge through the television and begin strangling the newscaster right on the air, "DONT YOU DARE SHOW MY SON'S FACE ON TV YOU FUCKING--" and Alastor starts lovingly conversing with his son about how important it is to stand up for your family and your values as the pair of them watch you throw Vox around his recording studio in a frenzied rage, "You and your disgusting Vees always trying to peddle your worthless garbage to kids, you CREEPS!! BABIES DON'T NEED IPADS, RETINOL CREAMS, SKEEYEE DANCE ROUTINES, AND ATHLEISUREWEAR LEGGINGS THAT GO UP THEIR ASS, YOU CONSUMERIST IMMORAL SHELL OF A HUMAN BEING--"

Snapcut to you rejoining your family on the sidewalk with your hair a mess and visible blood on you while Vox is facedown on the floor in his broadcast unable to move before it cuts to a "technical difficulties, please stand by" screen. Alastor is oh so genuinely joyfully smiling, "Now who wants to go and get some waffles? I say we should celebrate any victory over our enemies with some tasty grub!!" and he takes you and your son's hands and is all but skipping down the sidewalk while his hated rival is bleeding out in his tower somewhere. Oh, Alastor will give the Television Demon his own revenge for daring to try and shame the lovely beautiful mother of his child and his beloved boy on that disgusting show. What kind of degenerate uses children for content, let alone threatens their safety? Alastor will be back for him later and do much, MUCH worse than you did.

For now, though? Alastor just wants to enjoy the sight of you and his son sitting in a booth with him while you all scarf down some hotcakes. A family of his very own, huh? How wonderful. If only his own mom were here to see it...

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere x reader #alastor x reader #hh #sinprompts #god do you ever think about how people in hell feel miserable if their family is on heaven #you dont WANT your loved one to be suffering in hell but... if thwy were at least you could still see them #catch me crying out here piss drunk to alastor because my mom/granny are in heaven and he nods knowingly bc his mom isnt down there either

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delfiore · 6 months

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—NOT STRONG ENOUGH.

pairing: leah williamson x fem!reader

synopsis: you spend a few days in london with your daughter as you and your wife leah are filing for divorce.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i don't even want kids why am i getting attached to this nonexistent child

“Mama!!” The sweet sound of your baby’s voice filled your ears the moment you stepped through the door.

You had been dragging your suitcase along the walkway, but dropped it by the door to catch the little girl and lift her into your arms.

“Hi, baby!” You exclaimed and shook her side-to-side. “Oh, I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Mama,” she giggled and writhed her way out of your kisses on the cheek. “I drew a picture for you with your new trophy!”

Without protest, the five-year-old thrust a piece of A4 paper in your face. You let out a quick laugh when you make out the figure in the middle—you—surrounded by bats and the Gotham logo with a golden trophy in your hand.

It was your first season at NY/NJ Gotham, and you managed to win the NWSL Championship for the first time for your club. Instead of returning to New York after the final to celebrate with your teammates, you hopped on the first flight back to London. You needed to see your little girl; after months of constant competitive matches, you were able to finally make time to fly back home.

“You did! Wow, Maevey, this is amazing! You drew this?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wow, wow, wow. We’ll have to hang this up by the fridge, right?”

You walked into the kitchen with your daughter in your arms, heading towards the fridge behind the island. You were aware of your wife’s presence in the room by the oven but focused on balancing Maeve in one arm and hanging her drawing on the fridge with the other instead.

“There we go. That looks so good,” you cooed at her. “Thanks, Maevey!”

“You’re welcome, Mama.”

When you set the girl down, like lightning, she was on her feet sprinting towards the living room, no doubt grabbing a toy she had left somewhere on the ground. “Hey, no running, remember?” You called behind her and shook your head.

You glanced back at your wife, who, whilst stirring a pasty white batter in a clear bowl, still hadn’t made the effort to return your gaze.

“Congrats on the Championship,” she said without looking at you.

“Thanks.” And that was the extent of your conversation.

The house you once called home was cold when you left it, now it was even colder. The only warmth left came from a single tiny candle that managed you the smallest relief, and it was Maeve.

“Mama?”

“Yes, bub?”

“Why don’t you sleep in your room anymore? With Mummy?”

You had dreaded the question that had just come out of your daughter’s lips right after you tucked her in. Maeve was a smart kid, and you knew she would have been able to put two and two together when she saw you unpacking your suitcase in the guest room.

“Well, kiddo,” you started, brushing the stray hairs away from Maeve’s eyes. She looked so much like Leah when she pouted. “Mummy’s not too happy with me right now. So I’m giving her some space.”

“Is it because of me?” She said quietly, making your heart squeeze.

“No, of course not. Of course not, bub. How about you go to sleep now, and we will talk about this some other time, hm?” You poked her cheek gently. “Whatever happens, your Mummy and I will never stop loving you, and we will always do what’s best for you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good.” You leaned over the edge of the bed to kiss your little girl on the forehead. “Now, remember what I always say? ‘You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.’”

“‘I am strong, I am capable, I am loved.’” Maeve repeated your words, almost immediately as you said them.

It was a mantra you repeated to yourself when your doubts started to get in the way of your potential, ever since you were a young girl making your debut for Arsenal until now. Those were the words you echoed to Leah when she had done her ACL, and when she wasn’t strong enough to chase away the clouds one day.

“I’m strong,” Leah had just managed to say through the tears, “I’m capable, I’m loved.”

“That’s right,” you whispered and smiled softly. “Now go to sleep, or I’ll sell all your toys.”

This elicited a giggle from the girl, as you turned off the lights. Making your way back to the guest room, you noticed the light in the living room was on downstairs. The tranquility you felt after spending time reading and talking with your daughter made you feel brave to face Leah, brave that whatever interaction you would have with her would not end in screaming and arguing. The woman was sitting on the couch, scrolling on her phone, a match played on the TV, as it always was.

“Maevey seems used to sleeping on her own now,” you said, smiling to yourself. “Soon enough she’ll be off to college.”

The best you got out of her was a short smile, and you would take it at that point. Your last conversation wasn’t the friendliest, and you had hoped Maeve wasn’t aware.

“She cried for you the night you left,” Leah spoke. “Slept in our bed for two weeks.”

Maybe it was the fact that Leah’s head was pressed against the side of the couch—the way she used to do every time you two had enough time off to sit down on the couch—or the fact that she still referred to the master bedroom as both yours and hers, that made your heart squeeze. For a moment it felt as if you had your family back, and things would eventually go back to the way it was.

“Only two?” You scoffed but smiled.

“Y/N, you know this isn’t a long-term solution. Maeve needs you. You can’t just fuck off to America and come back to visit for a few days every few months.”

“I know,” you said, clenching your jaw. “My agent’s looking at options within Europe. Germany, maybe.”

“Why not in England?”

“That is if any club wants me,” you shrugged. “Frankfurt seems interested, so.”

You’d like to think there would always be a place for you at Arsenal. Growing up, while your peers had posters of Mia Hamm, Kristine Lilly, or Abby Wambach on their walls, you were looking eastwards to the likes of Rachel Yankey and Kelly Smith for inspiration. Your heart was red, white and North London and it broke into pieces the day you had to leave—not because of your performance, but because by then London had started becoming too suffocating. And if you were going to be a good parent to Maeve, you had to put the oxygen mask on yourself first.

“I do want to be close to Maeve,” you said, more to yourself.

Leah hummed. A moment later, she opened the drawer next to the couch and pulled out a thin folder. Placing it on the cushion between you and her, she made the decision to leave the living room to go upstairs.

The respondent line on the first page awaited your name and signature. Hers was already printed on the line above that, the ink was already dry like she had made this decision long ago. You were frozen to the seat with the divorce papers in your hands, and that night you cried yourself to sleep.

You took Maeve to the park the next day. You had extended an invitation to Leah, but she declined, saying she had errands to run. Maeve wanted to go to the playground in the park, so you packed the two of you a small picnic, and a football, in case she was up for a kick-about.

She was telling you about a goal she scored at school the previous Friday when you returned home. Upon entering the two-story house, you heard laughter coming from the kitchen. As much as you wanted to listen to your daughter recount her story, your ears focused in on the conversation and what sounded like two female voices, and laughter . . . Leah’s laugh, something you haven’t heard in a long while. You regretted that that was the case.

“Mummy! I played at the park today, and I scored so many goals against Mama!”

“Is that right?” Leah gasped and picked up Maeve in her arms. “Looks like Mama’s got some competition in the striker position.”

“Hi, Auntie Lia,” Maeve said to the other woman in the room.

You barely managed a smile as you watched your former teammate greet your daughter, trying not to freak out at the fact that she was standing much too close to your wife when you first came in. You couldn’t help the uneasy feeling that harbored in the pit of your stomach seeing it, and, as selfish as it sounded, you couldn’t stomach the thought that Leah might have started to move on.

“Hi, Y/N. It’s good to see you again,” Lia smiled at you.

“Long time no see,” you said.

“Come on, little one. Will you show me how you scored those goals at school?” The Swiss woman extended a hand to Maeve and led her to the backyard.

“Don’t,” Leah said as soon as your daughter was out of sight.

“Don’t what?”

“I know you’re giving me that look.”

“I’m not giving you any looks, Leah,” you smiled sadly, and unpacked your daypack, putting the dirty Tupperware containers into the dishwasher.

“Lia’s been a great help with Maeve. Without her, I don’t think I would have been able to get through the first few months.” Her tone had a slight edge to it, but you understood why.

“I know,” you replied, “I’m not saying anything.”

“That’s the fucking problem, Y/N. You never say anything you’re thinking! You make me do this fucking guessing game with you, and you don’t even bother defending yourself when I assumed the worst about you, and you run away! Do you truly just not give a shit about anything?”

You took a sharp exhale, checking to see if Maeve was looking. Through the sliding door, you could see that wasn’t, she was playing 1v1 against Lia instead.

“Please, Leah. Not now,” you sighed. “I’ll sign the papers, alright? And then I’ll be out of your hair.”

You didn’t see because your back was turned to her, but your wife shook her head, causing a few tears that had collected in the corner of her eyes to fall. Then, you heard her storming past you out to the backyard.

“I do give a shit,” you mumbled to yourself. You did, so much, but maybe your family was better off without you. Watching Maeve kicking her ball into the little goal you got her whilst your wife and Lia pretended to defend her, you wondered if maybe they really were better off.

Your relationship was never perfect. She was Leah, and you were you. You used to love the routine you two shared until it turned sour and you would arrive to training in separate cars. You didn’t know when your marriage crumbled, just that when you looked back to assess the damage, it was already beyond repair. Leah telling you one night that she wished to separate was your wake-up call.

You had seen your friends and colleagues date and break up, and pretend that being in the same room afterward wasn’t the most torturous thing they’d ever had to endure. You never imagined that it would be your turn, and how much it hurt. How does someone be a human being whilst going through a divorce, and be a good parent at the same time?

“Mama, why are you crying?”

You quickly turned away and wiped at your eyes when you heard the tiny voice coming from your bedroom door. You must not have shut it properly. Maeve was standing in front of the door in her adorable dinosaur pajamas, and her favorite plush toy beneath her one arm. You would have given your entire world for that adorable punk right then.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I’m just a bit sad. What are still you doing up?” You gestured for her to come inside. Normally, Maeve would not hesitate to jump into your lap right away, but instead, she climbed onto the bed, and sat next to you like an adult.

“Why are you sad, Mama?” She said quietly, fiddling with her stuffed animal, her round eyes looking up at you with concern. “Everyone is sad.”

“What do you mean, bub?”

“Mummy is sad too. She was crying before you came home,” Maeve said, her bottom lip quivering. “She said it was because she missed you.”

The revelation left you speechless.

Your daughter turned to you. “Should I be sad too? Everyone is so sad.”

“No, baby, come here.” As soon as you pulled her into your lap, she started crying.

“Oh, baby. My little Maevey,” you hated that you made your little girl so upset, arms wrapped around your neck and broken sobs raking from her chest against yours. “Sometimes, people argue, and it’s very sad when they do, but it’s all a part of life, Maevey. Me and Mummy are arguing, but it has never been about you.”

“But I don’t want you and Mummy to argue anymore.”

“I know, baby,” you had nothing else to say that might offer her some comfort. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been around as much. It was my fault, nothing to do with you.”

You held Maeve for another minute or two until her cries subsided into choked sniffles and tearful sighs. “It’s okay,” you would repeat, “I love you so much”, hoping that it might reassure your daughter until she removed her head from your shoulder, wiped her tears away, and through hiccups, said, “You are strong, you are capable, you are loved.”

Letting out the smallest sob, you nodded and pulled her back into your chest. Your little girl, your heir, your legacy, only five years of age, yet she understood the significance of those words. You had won trophies and championships, but nothing compared to the burst of joy in your heart having her echo them back to you. It meant you meant something to her. It meant you were doing something right.

The next morning, after you and Leah had seen Maeve off to kindergarten, you gently placed the divorce papers that Leah had given you a couple of nights ago on the table opposite her. As you sat down by the dining table opposite her, you saw the way she eyed the files like you had just handed her a pack of poison and expected her to swallow it.

“I’ll agree to everything you bring to the table, within reason of course. This needn’t be a whole ruckus for Maeve. Whatever you want,” you started, darting your eyes up to Leah.

She continued to stare at the divorce papers on the table but kept silent.

“But . . . If you still have even just a tiny drop of affection left for me, I’m asking you—begging you—to reconsider this and give me another chance.” You took a deep breath. “This year away from you, from Maeve, made me realize that you two are the most important thing in my life. You make me a better person by just giving me grace and being who you are. And I failed you, I know. I’ve not been the wife and partner you needed, but if you give me one more chance to right my wrongs, I’d give everything to have my family back. I’ll go to therapy, we can go to couples counseling together, whatever you want, just please . . . please give me one more chance to make this right.”

Leah shook her head quietly when you looked up, but then she sunk her head into her palm and you heard a shaky exhale.

“I’ve tried so hard since March to move on from you, eight months since then, and just from one of your little speeches, I’m back to square one,” she laughed bitterly, wiping her eyes of salty tears. “You always give me false hope that it’ll get better, and I hate you for that, because it never does.”

You swallowed and moved to kneel in front of her. Your hands were shaking, but you reached for her hands.

“I know that. I know I’ve been apathetic before. I lost sight of what’s important. I used football as my excuse, and I did it. I won the championship, but there’s still this void in my heart that no trophy can fill,” you squeezed her hand with both of yours. “Please, Lee. I love you, and I need you back in my life. I’m so sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you and Maeve, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for it. If you’ll let me.”

By then, Leah didn’t bother hiding her sobs. Tears were flowing down the curves of her cheeks like waterfalls, as she leaned forward into your touch, clutching your hands like they might save her. You cursed under your breath. Watching your wife fall apart at the seams when she had been ice-cold with you the past few days broke your heart to pieces, as you pressed soft kisses to her wet cheek and whispered loving words in her ear.

“Okay,” she said quietly and sniffled.

“Yeah?” You smiled hopefully.

Leah nodded tearfully. “Please. This is the last time, Y/N.”

You knew that. You knew if you fucked this up you would lose everything, Maeve might never have a relationship with you again, and you lose the one person that keeps you grounded.

Maybe Leah would be much happier with someone else, someone who treated her well and could fill the co-parenting role for Maeve. You were sure there were others out there who fit the bill, but you were selfish, and you would fight for them because this was your family, your home, your love.

“I’ll tell my agent to work on the move. I’ll try looking in England again, Frankfurt will be the worst-case scenario. Even if the only option is to resign at Gotham, I’ll make it work. I’ll fly home more often, I’ll help you with—”

You were cut off with Leah pressing her lips against yours desperately. You couldn’t restrain the grin that made its way onto your face, as you kissed your wife back.

“God, I got you to talk and now you wouldn’t shut up,” she mumbled, which made you laugh.

“Well, get used to it,” you said. “I’m gonna tell you how much I love you every day, and I’ve got eight months to make up for too, so it’s a lot of talking.”

“How about you show me how much you love me, huh? Actions speak louder than words, right?”

epilogue. A month later.

A blaring alarm awoke you from your warm slumber. It was a Sunday, and you had forgotten you had the alarm switched on. You felt Leah stir next to you, and the corner of your mouth pulled up.

“Christ, what time is it?” She asked, her voice low and cracking. You’d always adored the way her voice becomes raspy in the morning.

“Eight,” you said, combing your fingers through her hair. Leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheeks, you whispered. “We have to get Maeve ready for football.”

“Hmm,” you heard her sigh, and snuggle deeper into your chest. “Five more minutes.”

Your wife opened one eye and grinned. You thanked the Heavens that she granted you another chance.

“Okay,” you kissed her head, “five more minutes.”

Just as soon as you lay back down, and Leah had gotten comfortable again, you heard the pitter-patter of tiny feet, the speed and agility of which you could only attribute to a five-year-old whose enthusiasm for football might be a little too much at 8 o’clock in the morning.

#leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagines #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x you #leah williamson angst #leah williamson #woso fanfics #woso imagines #woso x reader

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lunaekalenda · 8 months

Text

first day of school!

warnings: reader is refered as mom and gojo as dad, dad!gojo, baby daughter!

"Give dad a kiss before leaving." Your husband kneels, making his 1'90 meters accessible for your toddler, who presses a kiss on his dad's cheek with a huge smile. When Satoru asked for the kiss, his eyes were full of love and pride towards the little girl, as they keep shining when he looks back at her. He kisses her temple softly, as he has been doing since she came to your life. "I love you, sunshine. I want all the details of your first day at school when you're back!" She nods quickly before running towards you, hugging your legs. You caress her hair with softness, fingers taking the locks she already took away of the bun to fix them. "You're gonna love the school, I'm sure. Make a lot of friends, yeah?" Your daughter looks at you from her small height. Kneeling softly, you kiss her cheek and she hugs you in return. "Dad and me will come to pick you up later, alright? We'll go have dinner at your favorite place with Megumi." The girl's big blue eyes shine with happiness as she nods, before the bus monitor asks all the kids to sit inside. Almost crying and hugged by your husband, you wave your hand towards your daughter, so little yet so grown, before letting her go. Satoru sighs and starts walking with you towards home. He hands you a tissue, walking at a slow pace towards your home.

"She was so little..." you murmur. He nods softly, his hand searching yours before tangling his fingers with yours. "Feels as if it was yesterday when she would show up in diapers on our bed to get cuddles from her dad." Satoru smiles luminously, as his dad ego gets boosted with your words. Your daughter loves him beyond anything, she's such a daddy girl, and he loves her as much. It's common for you to find both of them spending time together, and even when you join almost every time, there are still those tiny moments you adore finding, such as a sleepy baby on top of your husband, as he reads a book and caresses her back to keep her calm, or how he always puts her on his shoulders so she's able to see everything from his height.

"Will she be alright?" You find yourself wandering in silence what your husband just put in high voice. Will she be alright? Will she miss home as much as you miss her? Will she cry, will she feel overwhelmed by school? Will she adapt to the teachers, to her classmates? She's your very first child, and it's normal to feel that way about it. You smile at Satoru, finding his blue eyes looking worried at the floor, before facing him.

"She'll be alright. She's the strongest, after all." Your husband lets a smile brighten his face as he takes your cheeks on his hands, getting close for a kiss.

At home, you both take the time to clean, tidy up and do the chores, before it's time to wait for your daughter again. You put her drawings in order on the fridge, making room for more, and put her favorite plushies back on her bed. Her fluffy white cat feels raspy under your hands, too used over the years. You need to put her to wash urgently. Satoru got that kitty for her on one of his long trips with the Jujutsu School, one of those days when you feared your husband wouldn't come back home, although he always does, before Megumi took his place as teacher and sorcerer, taking most of the missions, what still leaves both of you on sleepless nights.

The drawings fill also her walls, draws of your family, the dogs, drawings of her, of Megumi, of Yuji and Nobara by her side. She loves them a lot, and you're happy to see how the three young pupils of your husband merge so well on your little family, making friday nights way more fun and happy. Her shelves are full of books and gifts she got from everyone, a cow figure Nanami bought for her when she was two, a fairy house Megumi helped her to build on her third Christmas, a pair of sunglasses matching with his dad. She's so loved by everyone that you feel like your heart might explode.

And him.

The man that looks at you from the corridor door with a side smile, body resting against the wooden surface as his intense blue eyes follow your movements on her room. He takes a couple steps in, touching the girl's bed with his fingertips. "The crib was here." He murmurs, smiling lovingly. "We spent so many sleepless nights by her side, we always ended sleeping cuddled on that brown couch Geto bought for us. Always alert in case she cried. And now, she asks us to read her a tale and sleeps soundly all night on her bed." He looks at you from all his height before sitting on her bed. You take a seat by his side and he kisses your forehead lovingly.

"Believe it or not, I kinda miss that. Watch our tiny baby sleep, feel as if all tiredness disappeared as soon as she called us for the first time." Satoru puts his arms around your shoulders. His grin tells you he's gonna say something.

"Well, you know, if we both liked the experience that much, we can always repeat." you laugh against his body before tangling your hand on his. He kisses it sweetly.

"Let's experience her growing up before, should we?"

He leaves another kiss on your forehead before standing up. Satoru takes your hand and the car keys, since the restaurant it's quite far from the bus stop to go walking, especially, since your daughter will probably be tired after the very first day, before leaving.

When you arrive to the stop, where more parents are waiting for the kids, Satoru holds your hand firmly, checking both sides of the street, to see if he can spot the bus, and his blue eyes shine with emotion when he sees the vehicle. Your daughter runs towards you, your arms and your husband's open for her to hug. Her smile warms your heart as your family hug makes you sigh.

"How was school, sunshine?" Satoru asks, and your daughter smiles excited.

"It was fun! There are a lot of kids in my class!" You smile when you hear her words, before standing up. Satoru cleans a tear that falls down your cheek slowly before taking your daughter's hand on his, and you do the same on the other side, walking towards the car hand by hand. Your husband sits her and puts her belt on, before sitting on the driver's seat and, with your hand between his and the gear level, he starts driving softly towards the restaurant, as your daughter's happy memories of the day fill the car on her sweet voice.

#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #gojo fluff #dad!gojo #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x reader #dad!satoru #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagines

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redskull199987 · 6 months

Note

What about a Mike x fem!reader where reader helps mike through one of his nightmares?

Lifeless Stars

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request

Word Count:1.6k

Warnings:very angsty again, but also lots of fluff and comfort too, I also may have added Abby a bit into this because I love her and I wish I had a sister like her:,), also Movie spoilers

Summary:After the events at the Pizza-Plex, You and Mike both have problems coping with what happened. But at least you have each other…and a sweet little Girl, whose goal it was to make you smile again...

Masterlist

You felt tired. Terribly tired actually. The Sun had long disappeared behind the Horizon. The House was quiet and all lights were shut off, as the entirety of your little family had withdrawn behind the warmth and comfort of your blankets.

And theoretically, you should have been asleep. But much to your dismay, you weren’t. You had been awake for hours, downright tired to the verge of passing out, but sleep just wasn’t able to find you.

Maybe it was because of what had happened a few days ago at the Pizza-Plex. The events were still burned into your skull, the images still vivid and every time you closed your eyes, it didn’t take long before that damn Golden Bonnie crept his way up into your dreams. You supposed, that was the reason you were unable to sleep tonight.

With a sigh, you quietly tried to sit up while not waking up Mike, who had his head laying on top of your shoulder and his arm slung around your waist. As cautious as possible, you pushed him off of you and stood up. You looked at Mike once more and gently pulled the blanket back up to his face again, before making your way into the kitchen.

‘Maybe a cup of tea could help’, you thought. And you seriously hoped it would. Your last resort would be Mike’s sleeping pills, but you really didn’t want to use them, knowing of how much trouble they always brought Mike.

So, without turning on the lights, the house only illuminated by the shine of the Moon, you stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, so that you could put on your tea. Your eyes wandered all over the room, gazing at the various pots and plates that were standing in random places. Abby’s drawing of you guys and the kids on the fridge or the Picture of Mike and his brother, when he was still alive. You sincerely hoped that he had found peace too. That he was in a better Place now, looking down on Abby and Mike with a smile on his face while patiently waiting for the day of their reunion.

The sound of the tea pot pulled you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you poured the steaming water into your cup and set it down on the kitchen table to let it cool down a bit, so that you would not burn your tongue when drinking it.

With another heavy sigh, you walked over to the couch and flopped down on it. Your body felt heavy. Too heavy. With a small hiss, you lifted your shirt, taking a look at your still healing injury. Mike might have had it worse than you, but Afton had still managed to nab at you with his damn knife. You got way more lucky than Vanessa though, since she was still in the Hospital. You really hoped that she would wake up soon, so that you could thank her properly. If it hadn't been for her, you would probably all be dead.

A noise from your bedroom suddenly caught your attention. With furrowed brows, you swiftly jogged back through the dark hallways. You could swear, it almost gave you a heart attack, when you abruptly ran into Mike, causing the two of you to stumble to the ground.

“Mike?”, You groaned quietly, blinking in the dark trying to spot him,”Mike, are you okay?”

You didn't receive an answer, but instead, you felt a pair of hands, searching for your own in the darkness.

“Mike, I’m here.”, you mumbled, reaching out for your boyfriend. Your hands hastily found his shoulders and pulled him closer to you. Only now, you noticed that he was trembling. His breathing was fast and heavy and he was slightly sweaty.

“Mike..”, you whispered, lacing your fingers with his,”Come with me.”

You quickly pulled him to his feet and guided him to the bathroom. Once you were inside, you switched on the lights and closed the door. You saw how Mike slightly flinched away, as soon as the dim light illuminated the room. You gazed at him with concern on your face, before motioning to the bathroom counter. He quickly understood and sat down on it.

With your eyes still on Mike, his hands were still trembling, you grabbed a cloth and held it under the water, before coming back to him.

With a reassuring smile on your face, you slowly stepped in between his legs. Mike almost automatically grabbed your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

“Hey.”, you tenderly grasped his cheek, making him look at you. Without another word you raised the cloth to his face, slowly wiping the sweat off of his forehead. Mike only closed his eyes, seemingly just trying to enjoy your sweet touch on his face.

“What happened?”, You finally asked, when he had calmed down again. His hands were no longer trembling anymore and his breathing had returned to normal.

“I had a nightmare.”, Mike explained, his gaze now focusing on the ground,”I dreamed that..that, I wasn’t able to save Abby. That they took her, just like Garret. And I couldn't do anything. I was just staring like a useless piece of shit-”

“Mike.”, you said firmly, turning his face back to you,”Don’t say that. It was just a dream. Abby is safe. She’s with us. Nothing can happen to her.”

Mike didn’t say anything in return, so you tried something else instead of just talking to him. You swiftly raised your other hand, but not to his face, but to his chest. Your palm rested right above his heart, that you could feel beating rapidly. Mike only looked at you in confusion.

“Mike..”, You mumbled, searching for the right words,”What I can feel under the palm of my hand, is the Heart of a Big Brother, that’s only beating for his sister. A heart that’s beating because it’s owner decided to stay alive for his sister. To be there for her and give her the life she deserves. And not only for her, but also for me. I know what you did to save us and I will be forever grateful for that. So are Abby and Vanessa. You saved us. We’re alive because of you, Mike.”

You could feel tears well up in your eyes, because as you said them, you realized how true they were. You owed Mike your life and you would forever be grateful to have him in your life.

“I love you.”, was all that Mike was able to mutter in response, before he pulled you into him by your waist, connecting your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. You felt him holding onto you tightly and as you parted, he gently leaned his forehead against yours.

“Thank you, Y/N.”, Mike mumbled, kissing you once more on your temple.

Your sweet moment was interrupted, as you saw the lights in the hallway suddenly go on. Mike and you only looked at each other for a second, before he jumped off of the bathroom counter. He pulled you behind his body, as the two of you quietly walked over to the door. With one final step, you walked into the hallway and all your tension quickly dissolved into relief, as you saw who the culprit was.

Abby was sitting at the Kitchen table, sipping on the tea you had made earlier.

“Hey, you little thief.”, You smiled and sat down next to her, “That was mine.”

Abby looked at you apologetically, but not really:”Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”, you smiled and ruffled her hair affectionately.

“Why are you up, Abbs?”, Mike asked, also sitting down next to the two of you.

“Couldn’t sleep.”, the girl answered shyly,”So, I drew a picture for you guys.”

Wordlessly, she slid a piece of paper over to you and Mike. The two of you looked at each other for a second, before glancing at the drawing. Your heart bloomed with joy, as you realized what it was.

In the drawing, you could see Mike, Abby, Vanessa and you playing together. It looked like Hide and Seek and while Mike was the Seeker, Abby, Vanessa and You all hid from him with a smile on your faces.

“That’s really beautiful, Abby.”, you mumbled, trying not to tear up.

“Let's put it on the fridge, hm?”, Mike suggested and promptly did what he just proposed.

Abby only smiled at you and instantaneously jumped up, giving you and Mike a big beary hug. You could only embrace the girl in your arms. You had grown so much closer over the years and you were extremely grateful for that. You really did love her like a sister,

“Let’s all go to bed now, shall we?”, Mike proposed, a smile now also on his face.

Abby and You could only nod, as sleep was now finally catching up to you. You could barely remember what happened afterwards…

Bonus:

Your eyes only opened reluctantly, but the sun had been poking your face for a while, so you decided to give it a shot. But as you tried to sit up, you realized that it was of no use. This morning, you did not only feel the weight of one body on you, but two.

You blinked around a few times, before realized what was going on. Abby had asked to stay with Mike and you for the Night, so that she could fall asleep faster and thus here you were. With Mike clinging onto your left side and Abby onto your right.

But all you could do was smile at your little family and close your eyes again, pulling the two of them closer. You really were grateful for everything. And you always would be.

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luveline · 2 years

Note

if you want, maybe roan is just like doodling around and stuff yk and she draws a typical like family pic but eddie notices that beside the both of them there’s another messily drawn figure and it’s the reader :( <3

HELL yeh ty baby ♡ fem!reader

Eddie's a good dad. Fuck anyone who thinks otherwise, he's good at this shit, and if Roan wants to go get burgers every Friday he's gonna take her. His daughter deserves the world.

Including greasy, messy quarter pounders from Benny's diner.

"What's that one?" Eddie asks, pointing over Roan's half eaten plate with his pinky finger at her drawing, the table between them covered in crayons from her open pencil case.

"This? This'a doggy," she says, like it's obvious and he's the worst.

"I knew that," — he did not know that — "I meant want kind of doggy."

"Oh. That's our dal-dalm-damnation!"

Eddie grins at the idea of a dalmatian named damnation. Fucking sweet. "Dalmatian, babe." He wipes his fingers in a napkin so he can lean over and pick sesame seeds out of her hair and off of her little sweater. "I thought you wanted a St. Bernard. The rescue dogs with the medicine around their neck, you remember?"

She points at the dalmatian's side where she's drawn a cross in red crayon. "He is a rescue dog."

Eddie hums appreciatively and picks up his burger again. But the time he's finished Roan has moved onto a clean page. She sits there tap tap tapping her crayon against the corner.

"What do I draw?" she asks.

Eddie grabs his napkin. "You didn't give me a look at the first one!" he exclaims, stacking her plate on top of his.

Roan struggles. Her sketchbook is a simple plain workbook from Bradley's with thin paper, but the size of it is still heavy in her small hands. She turns back to the page she'd just been decorating and brandishes it against her chest proudly.

"Holy sugar, that's awesome," he praises, and means it. "Is that Princess Peony?"

"The damnation is saving her," Roan says.

"I can see that."

He reaches under the table for his backpack. Inside, he carries around all the bare essentials necessary for successful kid outings — spare clothes, Teddy the pink bear with one ear, a hair brush, hair ties, her rain mac. And, the most important thing, wet wipes.

"Alright, c'mere. Let me wipe that face."

Despite contrary instruction, Eddie walks around to sit on her side of the booth. He does hands first, then crayons caught in the crossfire, then her face. She hates it, but when she was a baby she loathed it. He takes her scowl as an improvement.

"Why don't you draw... Maybe, a new family portrait? We can put it on the fridge like the first one. You can even include your damnation, if you like."

"He isn't real, dad."

"Just draw what's real, then. Can I trust you while I go get drinks?"

She makes a haughty little face that he takes for an eye roll and leaves to get drinks, though he's not really leaving. He's about ten feet away from her at all times and he keeps his eye on her.

He only looks away for what can't be ten seconds, and she's gone. His heart skips as his eyes scour the diner.

"Dad?"

Eddie flinches, his coke tipping over the side and down his hand. "Oh, sh- sugar," he says, kissing his fingers dry. "Babe, you scared me."

Roan stands at his knee with her drawing in hand. She wields it up at him insistently.

"That's for me? Swap?" he asks, offering her a small glass of juice.

Roan takes the juice in one hand. Eddie quickly takes her drawing so she can use both hands, watching the pride as she shuffles carefully back to the table. She doesn't spill a drop.

Eddie shakes out the drawing and sips his coke. The edges are ragged along the top where she's torn it free.

Front and centre is Roan. She's drawn herself with big long eyelashes and a full head of curls, total dad-win, in a huge cloud of pink he assumes is her very best princess dress. To her left is Eddie, same head of curls, long lashes amiss but a huge smile on his face, and to Eddie's left is Wayne. He looks especially dapper, a coffee mug in hand.

It's a great likeness.

And then there's you.

Your hair, your favourite shirt. Roan has drawn you with lovely eyes and a heart next to your smile, messy but so obviously you.

He beams like a fool as he sits down next to her again. She's already turned to a new page in her blook.

"Roan, this is amazing. And... That's Y/N."

"Duh," she says.

"Duh," he repeats, dumbfounded.

He wonders what he's supposed to say here. Telling her you aren't part of their family wouldn't be true. Telling her you are might set a precedent you aren't ready for. He worries it over for a while and takes despondent swings of coke, listening to Roan scribbling furiously beside him.

"Done!"

Eddie looks down. He gawks.

"Baby, is that..."

She points with her crayon enthusiastically. "Tada!"

"It's a castle," Eddie says carefully.

"That's where a princess gets married."

"And that's..."

"That's Y/N!"

There you are. Smiling, a bouquet of blue, red and yellow flowers on bright green stalks in hand. A prince stands beside you in a suit with a bright red scribble across his chest like a sash. The prince also has long, curly hair.

"Where are you?" he asks.

Roan points at a purple blob with black hair in the background. "I'm the flower girl."

Eddie throws his arm over her small shoulders and drops a firm, smacking kiss against her round cheek. "That's where you're wrong, bub. You'd be right next to me, my best girl."

She giggles infectiously at him, his words and breath tickling her face.

"Dad, don't be stupid. It's s'posed to be a man with you."

"Make an exception? Just this once it can be a girl. Pretty please?"

She smiles at him. It's a much older expression than she should have, like she's entertaining his fantasy, like he's the kid. "Okay, dad. I will be the best girl."

Later, when he tells you the story, you get super indignant. His stomach turns to a pit as he worries he's overstepped, but you say, "How is that fair? I want her to be my best girl."

"Maid of honour."

"What's the difference? You got her all this time completely by yourself, and you're not gonna share her on our wedding day?" Your voice drifts off as you dissapear into the bathroom, though he can hear you muttering, "Ridiculous."

He hides his electric blush with a pillow over his face. When you return, you climb half on his chest and force the pillow away to dot spearmint kisses against his pinked cheeks.

more eddie and roan (and reader!)

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem!reader #dad!eddie munson #eddie and roan #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #dad!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

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togglesbloggle · 1 month

Text

In Defense of Bad Things

'Bad' here meaning mostly 'amateur'; stuff made enthusiastically by people at an unprofessional level. Art with visible gaps between what the artist imagined and what they achieved, products of flawed craftsmanship. I suppose everybody can appreciate them to some extent, it's a rare parent that doesn't put up their kid's drawings on the fridge in one way or another. But it turns out to be a fully general skill you can cultivate, and the more I do, the more I'm glad I did.

Partly, it's the teacher thing; finding delight in amateur work is one of the ways to find delight in the process of learning. Cultivating a love of striving-qua-striving can help make you a force for good in the world, as people start to feel safe trying to do things when you're around, even when their efforts are wobbly. You get to participate a little more in the process of atoms spinning themselves into ideas, even when there aren't any illusions about whether you're helping cultivate some revolutionary genius in the field.

And partly it's a fabulous way to build community. By necessity, our professional-level skills tend to be at the service of other people, performed for economic benefit; that's kind of how you get professionally good at something in the first place. When we're acting for our own sake, and among friends, most of what we do with one another is amateurish. I only cook middling-okay, I can't hold a tune that well, I'll never be a speed runner for anything. If you can only enjoy singing from the hundred best singers in the whole world, manufactured and polished by major studios, then you and your friends will sit shoulder-to-shoulder and passively listen to music. But it's so much richer an experience to sit face-to-face, actually singing together, even badly; you expose yourself to so many new ways to appreciate and respect one another, building relationships on what you've accomplished and not just by witty criticism or liking the same things.

And partly it's because some of the most powerful and innovative artistic experiences are in high-churn environments with low expectations and low barriers to entry, if only because those catch the passionate and driven young people that have been otherwise overlooked by our systems. The golden age of webcomics meant that a ton of the actual art involved was pretty lousy, but it also produced work that people still talk about today. D&D began as a profoundly unpolished collection of handmade rulebooks sold at cons in a plastic baggie. By the time these products of enthusiastic amateurs filter themselves through various levels of popularity and absorb mainstream cash influx, they're often risk-averse and missing a lot of the bold spark that inspired their fans in the first place; others will simply never drift towards the mainstream at all. I'm not saying you should be the person who goes out to dig through the slush piles of the internet looking for overlooked art, unless you want to be-- but sometimes a work of actual staggering genius also happens to be a Supernatural fanfic by a first-time author who's a little hazy on commas, and if that's a dealbreaker, you're going to miss out on some profoundly valuable experiences.

And hiding behind all of these things is, like...

Our appreciation of beauty has an odd structure, right? When things are done very skillfully, by brilliant artists with years of training, we can usually appreciate those accomplishments. And when we're looking at nature without human influence, and especially when we think very deeply about natural processes and understand them in context, we often rediscover that sense of beauty. There's just this bizarre hole in the middle where we declare things 'ugly'; as if a little skill is worse than none at all.

I really don't trust that gap. It feels like a trick my brain is playing on me, you know? It has me suspicious that a lot of what I consider 'ugly' or 'bad' is not a very direct experience of the world at all, or an informed judgment. That it is, rather, a declaration of (self-, social-) identity; a desire to be seen as a person of good taste, or as somebody who does things well, or just more primitively as one of the monkeys who is in the good-stuff-tribe and not one of the monkeys who is in the bad-stuff-tribe.

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cyber-night · 4 months

Text

Making art for Dottore (I forgot to add blood because I got distracted by the fridge)

Content Warnings: a smidgen of gore, dottore, and I think that might be it...

Dottore was working on a test subject. This one was a previous fatuus who had the audacity to comment on your relationship with Dottore. He was alive, and dottore was humming to himself as he worked on replacing the man's bones with metal. You watched him quietly from a designated safe area. It had been put in so you could watch him and the clones work without getting potentially injured. It had happened once before, and Prime dottore had almost killed that clone. It took much convincing on your part and a full-blown panick attack on the clones part to convince him not to kill the sweet young clone.

At present, you were sketching your beloved so you could paint him later. He was working away diligently, unaware that you were drawing him as he was far too engrossed in his work. That was until his "patient" flat lined that was a pity. Dottore had looked like he was having such fun with him. He sighs and rolls his eyes, leaving the mess to the clones as he removes his gloves and lab coat and then walks over to you.

He stops and tilts his head as he sees you close your sketch book. "What are you drawing, my dear?" You look up at him and smile softly. "Pretty things." Which earns you a tilt of his head as he glances around the lab before he looks back at you. "And what pray tell would you find 'pretty' in my lab?" He asks curiously. "Why you, of course." You tease him with a soft smile. His eyes light up, and you can see his ears turn red, indicating that he's blushing behind his mask. "Can I see?" After a moment of consideration, you shake your head no. "Later, when it's finished. It needs to be inked and painted." Dottore nods. He respects only wanting to show a finished piece. That doesn't mean he's going to be patient about it.

That piece ended up taking a few days, which led to him pestering you to see if it was done. Once it was true to your word, you let Dottore look at it. He was sitting at his desk a mess of lab reports around him. He smiles his sharp teeth on display as he looks over it. "This is going on the lab fridge!" He declares excitedly. You blink as you process his words. "It's what?" You ask as you look over at him. "The fridge!! It's going on the fridge." He pauses, then looks back at you. "That's what people do with art, right?" He asks worriedly, making you chuckle before speaking. "I mean... I guess usually it's kids' art, but yeah, it can go on the lab fridge." He smiles and places a magnet on it anchoring it to the fridge.

#dottore #genshin dottore #genshin impact dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore #genshin il dottore #genshin impact il dottore #dottore fluff #il dottore x reader #Cyber-Write

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oftenwantedafton · 4 months

Text

Night Shift - Steve Raglan/William Afton x Mike Schmidt x Female Reader

Chapter 3

Rating - Explicit

Warning for sexual content, dub con, bisexual characters

Also available on AO3

Seated in the quiet dark of Mike Schmidt’s sedan outside of your apartment, you can still feel Steve Raglan.

The scent of him clings to you and your boyfriend’s bodies. You can taste yourself because he’d placed that flavor there with his incessant tongue and ardent fingers.

Your hands are balled into fists on your lap to conceal the violent tremor of desire that still wracks through you. You feel like an addict that’s gotten another hit, finding it dangerously insufficient; your brain chemistry already altered so you need a higher dosage of depravity.

“Just tell me one thing.”

You glance at the young man seated beside you, resisting the urge to seize his mouth and search for more of the older man’s essence that he’s left behind.

“We’re doing this because we have to, right? For Abby?”

“Of course.” The lie slips between you, a fragile bit of sound.

***

Another evening, you’ve burned dinner in your distraction and Mike waves your apologies away, ordering pizza and rummaging through a stack of DVD’s while you watch his sister color, selecting a bright shade of yellow to fill in the anthropomorphic rabbit she’s just drawn.

“Who’s that?”

Abby shrugs, her soft brown curls swinging slightly with the movement. “I don’t know his name. My friends tell me about him. He’s really nice. He likes pizza, too.”

You smile, remembering Mike had mentioned his sibling’s imaginary friends previously.

“He does look friendly. I like his purple bow tie.”

The young girl finishes coloring in the last of the rabbit’s long limbs and slides the picture across the kitchen table to you.

“You can have it if you want. I have plenty more.”

“Thanks, Abby. I’m going to put this on the fridge when I get home.”

“Abs, we need to clear the table,” Mike calls over his shoulder as he moves to answer the doorbell.

You help the child slot the tubes of paper wrapped wax back inside their container while she unwinds some paper towels from their spool.

“Not too much. Save some for another day,” Mike reprimands gently, setting the pizza box on the counter. He rests a hand on the small of your back as you reach for a stack of plates in the cabinet, all three pieces of dinnerware mismatched, orphans from various sets. “You’re so good with her,” he murmurs.

“She’s a great kid.”

He presses his lips against your hair in a gentle kiss.

“Ew, gross.”

You smile, moving to lift the lid of the corrugated cardboard box and challenge Abby to select her first slice on the count of three, laughing when she chooses the largest piece, dripping bits of cheese and toppings before her selection reaches the plate.

By the time the comedy movie Mike’s selected reaches the halfway point, Abby loses interest and retreats to her room, leaving the two of you alone. He draws small circles with his thumb on your shoulder, cradling you against him. He lifts the opposite wrist and curses when he sees the sequence of numbers on the digital display.

“I’ve got to get ready for work soon.”

“It’s ok.” You straighten up in your seat. “This was fun.”

“I appreciate you staying the night to babysit. I don’t know what happened to Max. She won’t answer the phone,” he says, referring to the young woman that usually watches his sister when he’s away.

“It’s no problem, really.”

“You’re the best.” He kisses your forehead.

“You can kiss me on the lips you know. I’m okay,” you assure him. Ever since the night at the movie theater, Mike had seemed to be reluctant to do so.

“Yeah, I…I’m trying. I don’t want everything tainted by Raglan.”

You’d been very purposefully keeping yourself distracted from thinking about Steve, but here he was, intruding into your lives again with just the mere mention of his name.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s so fucked up.” He scrubs at his hair, mussing the chocolate curls. “I should never have had you come to work with me. All of this is my fault.”

“Hey. I don’t blame you for anything, okay?” You reach for his hand and squeeze it.

“The shit he makes us do…”

You firmly resolve not to think about it. “We’re going to get through this.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

He rests his forehead on yours, hesitating before his lips tentatively brush against your mouth in a chaste gesture of affection. You respond with a firmer one of your own, hearing his inhale of desire.

“Ugh, you’re doing that again?”

You both jump, startled to see Abby standing in the doorway leading to the living room. Mike frowns, releasing you and standing up.

“I’m going to go get ready. You need to go brush your teeth,” he reminds his sibling as he walks past her.

“I’ll do it in a minute.” She bounces on the vacated seat next to you. “You really like my brother, huh?”

“I do.” You nod, lifting the remote and aiming it at the television set, the lit screen extinguished.

“He likes you a lot. I can tell.”

“You think so?” You comb your fingers through her curls affectionately.

“Mmm-hmm. My friends told me.”

You blink, surprised. “They did?”

“Yeah. They said the yellow rabbit likes you, too.”

Frowning, your hand stills. “I don’t understand. I’ve never seen him before you drew me the picture tonight.”

She shrugs. “That’s what they said. I’m gonna go brush my teeth now.” She slides off the couch, leaving you to ponder the strange conversation.

It’s just her imagination, you think. Perfectly normal for someone her age.

Mike reappears, shrugging into an oversized ink colored vest with a bright SECURITY logo decorating the right shoulder.

“I just got her tucked in. I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll make us breakfast. Probably safer for everyone, you know?”

“Hey! I can cook. That was an accident.” You slap his arm playfully.

“Sure. I’ve gotta get going.” He wraps his arms around you, his mouth more confident on yours this time.

“Have a good shift. Be careful,” you add, thinking of the many staring eyes of the cameras mounted throughout the abandoned pizzeria, their gaze reflected back to the cramped security office with its clusters of monitors that keep their dark secrets.

You tidy up the kitchen before bed, your fingers hesitating over the crayon illustration Abby had created for you earlier.

The yellow rabbit likes you, too.

***

Mike comes home the next morning looking exhausted, carrying a box of donuts and a tray with a pair of paper cups.

You fold your arms, scowling. “I thought you were making breakfast. That’s cheating.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not up for cooking today. Another day for sure.” He sets everything down on the counter.

“I’m only teasing. How bad was it?”

He shrugs, yawning. “It was okay. Abs up yet?”

“Yes she’s dressed, I just helped her with her hair.”

“Thanks, babe.” He turns his face, his voice louder as he calls for his sister. “Abby! We’ve got to leave in twenty minutes!” He removes a gallon of orange juice from the refrigerator, shaking it before he pulls the top off and fills a glass for his sibling.

“I could take her to school. I’m sure you want to crash.”

“Nah, it’s okay. You do too much as it is. Abs! Donuts!”

His sister seems to materialize out of thin air, bounding into the kitchen.

“Yeah I thought that would get your attention.”

“Did you get sprinkles?”

“Have a look.”

She tears the sticker sealing the box shut and lifts the lid, squealing in delight and grabbing a glazed donut drizzled in pink icing and covered in colored confetti sugar strands.

“Hot chocolate okay?” He hands you one of the cups and you nod gratefully.

“That’s perfect, thank you.” You remove the lid and blow on the steaming liquid, studying the array of pastries before selecting one dipped in chocolate.

Abby’s donut disappears alarmingly fast and she takes a few sips of her juice, declaring she’s ready to leave.

“She’s going to have a sugar rush now. Her poor teacher,” Mike mumbles, snatching his keys off the counter. “I’ll be back soon.”

You watch the pair leave, sipping on the warm beverage for a few minutes before deciding to get started on cleaning.

You’d noticed last night that Mike had more dirty clothes on the floor in the bedroom again; using a laundry hamper just didn’t seem to be a priority for him. You shake your head in mock disgust, collecting the random scattered garments, adding them one by one to a growing pile in the basket, pausing when you notice something shoved under the bed, one corner of a dress shirt barely sticking out. Mike had probably kicked it by mistake in his hurry to get ready, you figure, snatching at the fabric, about to toss it into the bin when you freeze.

It’s the shirt he had worn on your date at the movie theater.

It positively reeks of Raglan’s cologne and you inhale sharply, your pussy instantly throbbing. You’d been doing so well barricading the older man from your thoughts, enjoying the domestic moments with your boyfriend, but here he was tearing back through that blockade like it was made of tissue paper.

There’s a suspicious stain near the hem of the charcoal button front shirt and you hate that no matter which man the jizz belongs to, you find it horribly erotic.

Your hand lifts the shirt to your lips, Steve’s scent heaviest by the collar, and it’s all you can do to refrain from shoving your hand inside your panties right then and there.

“Hey babe, I’m back! Where’d you—” Mike is about to enter the room when he jerks to a halt just outside the doorway, staring at you rapturously inhaling his shirt, the words dying on his lips.

The security guard’s mouth parts, his breathing suddenly harsh, shoulders rising and falling in rapid succession as his lungs struggle to find more air.

He crosses the room faster than you’d thought possible given his short stature, fingers curling over the shirt but not tugging, keeping the fabric trapped between you as he pushes you against the wall.

The renewed handling of the material releases more of the career counselor’s scent into the air around the pair of you, cruelly teasing you, challenging you to imagine his presence beside you. Mike grabs your free hand and presses it to his crotch and fuck, he’s so hard already, straining against his fly. You’ve never seen him aggressive like this, so out of control, pupils blown with desire, the rough chafe of the hair lining his jaw scraping you when his mouth finds your throat, the shirt trapped just beneath, as if he’s kissing both you and Steve at the same time.

The phone rings, startling both of you. Mike jerks back, looking surprised to find himself in this situation, struggling to regain his composure, answering the phone somewhat breathlessly while you let the shirt drop back to the floor, your heart thudding in your chest, an echoing heartbeat in the crease between your thighs.

“Hello? What? No, I was…out running.” He sinks onto the bed. “What? No, I’m sure I locked the doors. Yes, the gate too. Fuck.” He drags a hand through his hair.

“Mike, who is it? What happened?” You sit beside him.

He mouths the name Steve and your stomach flutters.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll come down right now.” He slots the phone back on the receiver and turns to face you. “Someone broke into Freddy’s. They trashed it.”

“What?!” You gasp, covering your mouth.

“The owner wants to report it to the police. Raglan’s trying to talk him out of it.”

He stares at you, the implication of what that meant very transparent.

“We have to go.”

He drags a hand against his thigh nervously, as if just touching the phone that he’d used to communicate with the older man had sullied him.

“There’s never going to be an end to this at this rate. He’s just going to keep blackmailing us.”

“Maybe he made it up? What if it’s just a trick to get us to go there?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s legit. He sounded furious. And I swear I locked up. I know I’m tired but I wouldn’t have forgotten that.”

“I believe you.”

He sighs shakily. “I wish I’d never met him. You have no idea how much I regret going to that office.”

“I know,” you say, your eyes finding the crumpled dress shirt on the floor and you wonder if he truly regrets it as much as he says.

***

From the outside of the building, you don’t see any destruction that’s immediately obvious.

The interior tells a far different story.

Mike holds out an arm to bar your path, cautioning you about the broken glass littering the floor. The sunlight that struggles to filter through the glass front doors falls on scattered tokens from the tipped over change machines, making the gold coins glint on the confetti printed carpet.

“Christ,” the security guard swears, head swiveling to assess the damage. The cases for the pinball machines are shattered, the prize counter reduced to pulverized shards of glass. Chairs are knocked down and tables overturned, the long forgotten salt and pepper shakers and laminated menus now decorating the dining room floor.

The door slams behind you and you turn to see Steve standing there, crossing the room swiftly with several long legged strides, ignoring the glass that crunches beneath his feet.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He tosses the greeting to you without so much as glancing at you, his pale eyes glaring at the man standing beside you. “Look at this mess.”

“I promise I locked the doors,” he protests.

“Well they clearly found another way in. And I doubt they broke inside during broad daylight. So what were you doing this time instead of watching the monitors?”

“I swear I was watching. I didn’t see anything.”

“The damage in this room alone is going to cost a lot to repair. There are a lot of unique items that are vintage. Irreplaceable.” He gestures towards the destruction and chaos.

Mike gulps. “I’m sure we could work something out. I mean, it’s not like anyone’s even been using this stuff. It’s just sitting here collecting dust…”

Raglan takes a threatening step towards Mike, each word he issues clipped, his ire barely held in check. “This is someone’s personal property. It doesn’t belong to you. It’s not up to you to decide its value. You’re being paid to prevent things like this from happening.”

“I’m sorry,” your boyfriend says helplessly.

“That apology doesn’t sound very sincere, Mike. I think we’d better see how bad the damage is elsewhere.” He brushes past you, shoving at the Employees Only door.

You trail after him, Mike’s hand clammy and cold in yours as he escorts you through the same passage illuminated by the emergency lights.

The career counselor veers to the right, bringing you into a large kitchen area. A fan built into the wall across from you turns lazily, making a soft whirring noise. There are pans and dishes and pizza boxes scattered everywhere, steel shelving knocked to the black and white checkered linoleum flooring. Steve kicks at a stray pot with disgust. “Absolutely ruined.”

“I’ll clean it all up,” Mike says hurriedly.

“Of course you will. That’s part of your job description after all. You’re supposed to be keeping the place tidy. Which still doesn’t cancel out the damages or count as an apology, might I add.” He removes his glasses, setting them down on a free space amid the clutter on the counter. “Come here, beautiful.”

“I’ll help him,” you blurt out.

“No. This is his mistake. He’s got to learn his lesson. Actions have consequences. Come here,” he says again, more firmly this time, and you feel your feet moving, unable to resist the command. “Have you missed me, honey?” he murmurs, wrapping one arm around your waist and dragging you against him. He’s always so warm, borderline feverish beneath his clothing; you can feel it sizzling just beneath the surface.

Mike glowers but begins picking things up when Steve’s eyes snap back to him warningly.

The older man tucks his fingers underneath your chin and lifts your face up. Without the glasses he looks so different, those wide eyes even more intimidating without the lenses to shield them. You could drown in those pools of ice.

His mouth covers yours and your hand reflexively clasps the back of his neck. For a moment you forget about Mike completely, forget there is anything in the world other than the hungry lips moving against yours, the muscle thrust between them stroking your tongue, the arousal that had begun earlier reignited with a fury.

“You did miss me,” he whispers when you part for air, and you don’t deny it. “I didn’t say you could stop,” his voice hardens, directed at your boyfriend.

Mike slams a tray further down on the steel counter and Steve abruptly releases you, lunging for him instead. His fingers grab a fistful of the shorter man’s shirt, shoving him against the hard surface, sending more cookware scattering. “What’s the matter, Mike? Upset your girlfriend is getting some action? Or maybe you’re jealous that you’re not getting any of that attention. You’ve had a hard on ever since I walked into the restaurant.”

“Fuck you.” He spits, saliva landing on the corner of Steve’s mouth.

You gasp, thinking Raglan will strike your boyfriend for sure, the sound evolving to something needier when you see Steve drag his fingers through the fluid, grinning darkly before he clutches a fistful of brown curls and jerks Mike’s head back. He licks his way inside his mouth and you hear the younger man moan.

“Wouldn’t you just love to?” Steve muses, reaching for the fly of Mike’s work pants.

Another groan escapes when those deft fingers work their way inside the younger man’s boxers, stroking Mike’s leaking cock briefly before he releases him, stepping back.

“Let’s clear a space for your girlfriend. Over here, sweetheart.” You move forward as the career counselor sweeps an arm over the steel surface, sending the remaining items to the floor with a loud clatter. He unfastens your jeans and shoves them down at the same time as your panties, then lifts you up so you’re seated on the edge of the counter, dragging the rest of your clothing free.

“This too,” he murmurs by your ear, tugging on the hem of your shirt, indicating for you to pull it over your head, the bra soon following. You’re completely nude now, exposed before Steve’s ravenous gaze, shivering from the metallic surface touching your skin and the anticipation of the older man’s next move.

“Lay back, honey.” You lower your torso, fingers clutching the edges of the counter for balance, Raglan’s broad hand snaking around to support the movement so you land gently. He drags a calloused hand over one breast, trailing down to your navel, stroking small circles around the divoted space before he bends to kiss you, his mouth following all the places his hand had just been.

He hovers just above your mound, his breath tickling your skin before he gently wedges a hand between your clamped thighs, prying them apart, the tensed limbs falling slack. He hisses appreciatively, kneels down and slides his tongue between your lips in a brief teasing lick and your back arches off the counter.

“You’re completely soaked, sweetheart. You’ve been looking forward to this, haven’t you?” He plants a kiss on the inside of one thigh, turning his face slightly to address the man standing behind him. “Are you going to just stand and watch, or are you going to help your girlfriend out? Not that I’d mind keeping you all to myself.” His lips hum by the fork of your legs and you shiver, squirming restlessly, eager for more contact.

Mike’s face appears and you crane your neck in time to see him flick his tongue over your clit.

Your head snaps back and you whimper, the sound overly loud in the spacious kitchen. You feel a finger at your entrance and instantly recognize it as Steve’s, the long digit slipping inside and curling expertly, tearing another sound of pleasure from you.

“I don’t know how you stand having this around you all the time, Mike. My face would be permanently buried between these thighs,” the career counselor mutters, working the finger in and out while your boyfriend’s tongue strokes over your pussy.

You could cum right then, but you refuse to let yourself get off so easily, wanting to prolong the feeling. A second finger joins the first, scissoring within your tunnel, Mike’s mouth sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves swollen and erect against his tongue.

You hear your boyfriend moan and think Steve must be touching him again with his free hand. His head lifts, smeared with your juices, the hand that had been curled supportively around one thigh abandoning you in favor of winding Raglan’s tie around his fist and dragging his mouth to his. The fingers working inside of you move more insistently, bringing you closer to release. The sight of the two men kissing so heatedly sends you careening over the edge, your hips rocking wildly against the older man’s hand.

Steve breaks the kiss so he can reward your dripping cunt with one instead. “You’re so fucking delicious. Such a good girl.” The praise sends a spear of warmth through you.

He stands up, using the table for balance, immediately reaching once more for Mike’s cock, squeezing the base. “Not yet,” he cautions, his other hand jerking the younger man’s face up. “You don’t get to cum just yet.” His next kiss is rough, sucking loudly, teeth pulling Mike’s bottom lip until they release the flesh with a loud pop. He glances at your form still lying on the edge of the counter. “You haven’t fucked her yet, have you?”

You can see Mike’s jaw tighten, a blend of anger and frustration. “No,” he says quietly.

“Didn’t think so. Well, let’s change that, shall we?” He pushes Mike between your legs, one hand still firmly clenching the base of his cock, holding him just shy of your opening. Your boyfriend’s hands clutch your hips as Steve moves to the side and guides him forward, helping him fuck into you.

Mike grunts at the feeling of your wet pussy greeting him, hips automatically snapping forward to bury himself deeper inside, halted by the frustrating barrier Steve’s hand provides.

“Gently, Mike. She’s still recovering. Feels like heaven though, doesn’t it?” He reaches for your breast, fondling the nipple. Every time your boyfriend moves it brings Raglan’s hand with it, the contact between the three of you heightened. You thread your fingers through those still caressing your breast, your eyes meeting his.

“What do you want, sweetheart?” Raglan’s voice is so tender, so at odds with the hard snap of Mike’s pelvis against your body, his pace quickening. You don’t even know how to phrase it; if the vocabulary for it has been invented yet. Your entire body feels magma hot, senseless liquid around Mike’s impatiently driving prick. Steven lifts your fingers to his face and kisses the inside of your wrist, his tongue tracing circles along your pulse point and you feel yourself shatter. He releases his hold of Mike’s cock and thrusts the fingers between the younger man’s lips, letting him lap at the taste of both of you.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” Mike announces, his movements more frantic now that he has better access, your still spasming canal massaging him, wringing out his orgasm.

Steve shoves the younger man out of the way, kneeling down, his mouth back at your entrance, sucking and licking Mike’s cum back out of you.

You watch him bring that mouthful back to its owner, jerking his head back roughly and spearing his mouth open, seed spilling back onto Mike’s tongue. He moans when your boyfriend tears at the zipper of his trousers, shoving his fingers over his dripping cock, sending the older man over the edge.

***

“You can start cleaning up tonight,” Steve says, the first words spoken since the three of you had hastily cleaned up in the restroom before exiting the building. He tugs on the handle of the driver’s side door, his gaze alternating between Mike and then you.

“You’re going to convince the owner not to file a police report, right?”

The career counselor’s lips twitch slightly as he reaches for the glasses tucked into his shirt pocket. “Sure, sweetheart.” His eyes flick back to the security guard. “You should go home and get some sleep. You have a long, busy night ahead of you.”

Mike nods, sliding behind the wheel and slamming the door. You hesitate, fingers running absently over a spot of rust on the frame of your boyfriend’s sedan, unable to look away from the prison of Raglan’s stare.

The small, secret smile returns, making something flutter inside of you.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x reader

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ghosttownwherenoonegoes · 2 years

Text

For everyone who wants to hug Wayne Munson // gn!reader // you're dating Eddie & friendly with his bestest uncle💖

Imagine waking up at four or five in the morning so that you have plenty of time to cook Eddie and Wayne some PROPER food. You're up so early so that Wayne will be able to walk in to a hot meal, and some others already cooled and away in the freezer and fridge.

Eddie wakes up to an empty bed at around six (he can't sleep without you) and walks in to a chaotic kitchen; you, wearing your pyjamas, with multiple pots and pans on the go, some dirty dishes in the sink, some stuff on the draining board, some food already out in containers, cooling. You have a cool and level head and Eddie doesn't dare disturb you. He doesn't know what you're doing, so he just grabs some coffee and sits down on the one stool at the counter to watch you.

A half hour ticks passed before you turn off the hob, stepping back to see what needs to be done. You drain water from some pots, scoop sauces and meats out from others, portions things out in containers... Eddie's getting dizzy just watching you and he marvels at what you're doing (in reality, you only have three or four pots on the go, but you're picking them up, putting them down, swanning over here, grabbing this thing from here, and he can't keep track of you).

When you're all done and there are twelve some containers stacked on the side, Eddie comes up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist, kissing you good morning and snuggling into your neck. "What - is all this, babe? How long have you been up?"

"Got up at four. Wanted to cook you and Wayne some meals so you didn't have to have microwaved stuff all the time. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but I just - "

Eddie leaves your embrace and you think you've done something wrong but then hands are on you and lips are kissing yours and you melt into each other. "You are something else, Y/N." The reverence in Eddie's voice matches the stars in his eyes as he pulls away from you. "Talk to me," He makes a vague hand gesture towards the food, and you list out all the dishes you made him and his uncle.

"I made enough for four days' meals for the two of you, if you both eat one three times a day. Or you could freeze some." You shrugged. "I don't know, I just... want you to be happy, safe and healthy."

Eddie does his best to help you with the washing, drying and putting away, and by the time seven rolls around and Wayne strolls in home, you and Eddie are mostly done and just about to divide the food between the fridge and the freezer.

Wayne stops and you can almost track his thought process by the way he takes in the food, looks at you, looks at Eddie, looks at the sink, and sighs heavily. "What're you kids up to?"

Eddie shook his head, curls flying like lightning. "Nope, nope, this is aaaaall Y/N! Been up since four this morning making us," he gestured between himself and Wayne with a finger, "food for the next four days." His voice has an upwards lilt as he draws out the 'four', thinking on his feet. "Wants us happy."

Wayne freezes.

His eyes land on you for long enough that you grow to be slightly uncomfortable. You can't read his gaze, the set of his jaw, the way his thumb and forefinger rub together.

Finally, when you can't take it anymore. "Uhh, Eddie...?" I think I broke your uncle.

Eddie chuckles, grabs your hand and squeezes it. "Give him a second, sweetheart."

His boy's voice shakes him out of his reverie and Wayne holds his arms out to you, "Thanks for taking care o'my boy an' me. Dunno where we'd be without ya'."

You can almost hear Eddie's smile, flushing at being called Wayne's son, and you step forward, accepting the embrace. You squeeze your arms around the red and blue plaid shirt and Wayne ducks his head, leaning into the hug with you. He's warm, smells of the plant he works in, and you can feel his exhaustion. A few moments tick past, long enough for Eddie to come forward and rest his head against Wayne's shoulder in a half-hug (and the hand that was on your back moves to ruffle Eddie's hair), and the phrase, welcome to the family crosses your mind.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #wayne munson #wayne munson headcanon #stranger things 4

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rzyraffek · 8 months

Note

Could you please do headcanons Slashers (like Michael, Brahms, Billy, The Sinclair brothers) as caregivers for their S/O who is an age regressor

Or headcanons for those Slashers when they find out their s/o is an age regressor?

Okay I acually went and educated myself on this topic for you my dear anon🥰🌼

if your uncomfortable with topic of age regression pls dont read that😭

So basically as far as I understand age regression means that somone acts like child due to some traumatic event??? And like they act childlike and participate in child typical activies (such as drawing with crayons, speaking like a toddler, drinking from bottles ect) if i make headcanon that don't make any sense im sorry! I have no experience with this topic! ALSO this is pure platonic! Age regression isn't a kink or a fetish!!

Slashers with age regressor y/n

Brahms Heelshire

Tbh y/n acting childish kinda woke up his inner child, CUZ HE LITTERALY GOT LOCKED IN WALLS IN AGE OF LIKE 10 so he kinda missed out on some fun stuff

100% plays hide and seek! Or tag! My man loves some good round of hide and seek, this place is huge! *insert british accent* "oh you little scallop... if I find you I will tickle you so hard..."

Question: age regression is like temporary or like forever thing? Like regressor acts like that when they are in bad metal state or just always? Bcs if always then it might be hard with Brahms, see he kinda.... has mommy's issues has huge need to be taken care of, probably similar to y/n's, he kinda wants a person who will just pamper him and make him feel like he's the single child yknow? All the attention on him? Yknow what i mean??

If y/n draws him something nice, dude will put it on a fridge with a magnet and be proud

If thats like temporary thing, he acaully will ask a lot of questions: how should he act? Do you remember anything? How does it work? Can he get some cuddles? Do you still love him while regressing? (Ofc you do, but he doest understand)

Billy Lenz

You guys vibe

Dude won't see any difrence😭

Yay one more reason to watch cartoons together! (His favorite ponny is rarity and fluttershy)

If y/n babytalks and uses toddler-like vocabulary... dude will mimic it😭 he just thinks that will help with communication😭 its not like you guys struggle with it or anything, Billy is just build like that

Yall draw together, his artstyle already looks like toddler drew it (not in cute way)

Plays dolls with y/n (but he acually makes it interesting! Like he makes it all dramatic and the tea is just jawdropping)

Also don't bother explaining what is age regression, just say "sometimes I act like kid to cope"😭

Micheal Myers

Judges

But kinda likes it, not in weird way! He enjoys taking care of y/n, but he has his own ways of doing so

He won't play with them or let them cuddle him too much

But he accepts little drawings and stickers that y/n gives him

He is still stalking them, making sure noone tries to bully them or anything

He is very protective, for example if y/n cuts their finger while making food, dude is all over them: Oh no no dont cry! Uhhh.... uhhh oh! See a pretty bandage? With puppies! Pls dont cry...

On rare days he is acually around (phicially i mean, cuz hes always around just not interacting with y/n) and it happens for him to be in good mood too, he will let y/n nap on him or put some stickers on his outfit- he never takes them of btw, the only reason that stickers wash of is the field he 'works' in? Yknow a lot of mud blood and water. He also holds y/n hand if they are spooked

And he fucking loves fluttershy and applejack

Steals some cute shirts and socks for them!

Sinclair Bros

Bo is the least understanding, tbh he will lisen to y/n only if they have very good relationship

Vince is just 👍

And Lester is acually very open to the idea

Drawing and playing dolls with Vincent

Going on cool drives with Lester

And napping with Bo

Whole fridge is covered in drawings and cute magnets

All Vincent's notebooks and Lester truck covered in stickers

Even Bo gun didnt escape the sticker apocalypse

Vince made special wax figurines for y/n

Lester calls them "kiddo" 😭😭

Bo puts his hand on their head and rubs it till their hair goes all puffy

They all act like older brothers who have to take care of younger siblings while perents are away😭😭

Vince acually vents to regressing y/n and they are just like: "man I just wanna pet the dog"

Bonus round! Added few more!!

Bubba Sawyer

Bestie vibes

Yall just spend time playing with dolls and drawing together

Absolutely lets y/n nap on him

He totally combs their hair and puts them in nice bun (or if y/n has short hair he will just brush it)

He kinda sees age regression as lil break from reality? Like you two can just vibe and act they way you want to😊 he enjoys, cuz tbh he do be acting like child(not in bad way!) And his happy that you both can do all those child-like activities without being judged by other person

Bit y/n once

Asa Emory

Ew a child

I mean

Idk he gives me "the dad that never has time for u cuz he has too much work"

Like yep he will read y/n a bed time story and he will tell them all about bugs and nature. But hes busy most of time

OMG ABOUT BED TIME STORIES Asa will read you one but he is so exhausted that he acually falls asleep first

He trusts them and knows that even whilr regressing they wont do anything dumb, but he still bans them from his 'workroom' theres... well some photos and drawings of victims and i doubt y/n wants to see it

Lets them sit on his lap while he reads newspaper like middle-aged man he is

Gives lil head kisses before sleep

Bug themed plushies and figures

Makes y/n watch animal planet and bbc nature with him

When he's out for longer periods of time he will buy them McDonald's as an apology

Welp

Done. I hope it makes sense! I never witnessed anyone age regress so idk how relatable it is!! I used x reader tags only to reach bigger audience

#slasher x reader #slasher headcanons #billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #brahms heelsire #brahms x reader #micheal myers #micheal myers x reader #asa emory x reader #the collector x reader #bubba saywer x reader #bubba sawyer #age regression #sfw agere #request open #asa x reader

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iciclesses · 3 months

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cw brief mention of Ghost being abused as a child by his dad

there's something so healing and gorgeous about Ghost fostering a kid. I like to think as much as he's so terrified to be his dad, he is also so natural at caregiving because he helped take care of Tommy.

Having to foster a kid and he's carrying them to bed, they have that special kind of sleepiness that only little kids get on long car rides home at night that just knock 'em out.

Tucks them into bed and the little one goes, "G'night dad," and Ghost's hand freezes on the light switch.

Never been called dad before, had never asked the kid to- always felt they should choose what to call him. Has to choke down tears so he can say back, "Goodnight kiddo. Sweet dreams."

His kid coming home from school, rushing to show him their drawing. It's hard to tell exactly what it is, but they proudly explain that it's a superhero- it's their dad. Him. The man who had more blood on his hands than half an army would. Ghost hoisting them up in his arms with those same hands, now clean, to help them put the drawing up on the fridge with a magnet, kissing their temple in thanks.

Ghost crying alone in his study, silent tears as he looks over old mementos of comrades long passed. His kid poking their head in at the sniffling, and quickly running away. 'Good,' Ghost would think. 'Shouldn't see me like this anyway.' He could hear echoes of his own father berating him between beatings, about how men don't cry and how he would give Simon something to really cry about. He wanted to be strong for his kid.

Ghost startled out from his dark memories when his child runs back into the study, their favorite stuffed animal in their arms. He lets them climb up into his lap, his hands hovering to make sure they don't fall. The little one puts their stuffed toy in his hands.

"When I get sad I hold it like a hug."

Ghost clears his throat. "Dad doesn't cry often, sorry you saw that pumpkin. No need to worry."

They look up at Ghost with big, innocent eyes. Never been harmed beyond a scraped knee, the scariest thing they've seen is Scooby-Doo. "Everyone cries, it's OK. When anytime you wanna cry you can hug it too."

And it doesn't fix Ghost. It doesn't take away the scars his father left on him, it doesn't bring his dead comrades back. But something clicks into place, for the first time in his life. And the joy of it all just makes him smile through the tears and he hugs his kid and their stuffed animal tight, his kid's giggles muffled in his arms.

#noel.txt #rare fluff posting #i usually dont write kid fics but i miss my nieces right now and was emo about Ghost and his dad #i meant to make this angsty believe it or not

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ironbatpaperturtle · 20 days

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Time travel au.

How would adam react when people start to think emily as his kid. Because I have a funny idea. So basically, adam has to be at emily Teacher Conferences because Sera was busy.

Adam: alright so what this about

Teacher: Well, I just wanted to talk about Emily's drawing she drew for Mother's Day.

Adam: yeah what about it?

Teacher: Why not take a look for yourself

Adam: What am I looking at? No, like serious, what am I looking at because all I see is stick people?

Teacher: wel-

Adam: well what? I don't have all day!

Teacher: Well, like I said, this was drawn for Mother's Day. So emily drew you and herself.

Adam: ...

Teacher: The problem is that you are her mother. But you keep telling everyone you, not her mom. I know you don't want scandel but- it best for Emily development you just come out-

Adam looked over at emily, who was just playing with her dolls outside in the hallway. Adam getting reminded of his son's, and they used to be like before the whole murder accident came down.

Adam: I am not her mom, but if I was. I wouldn't hesitate to announce to world.

Teacher: ...

Adam: I think we are done here.

Adam goes to the hallway and puts up emily.

Adam: let go get ice cream.

Emily: really!?!?

Adam: Sure, and afterward, we hang your nice picture up on the fridge.

THAT'S SO CUTEE ADAM WOULD DEFINIETLY BE THE PROUD MOM TYPE. EMILY AS A KID WOULD LOVE THIS, EMILY IF SHE WAS IN HER TEEN ANGST ERA WOULD BE EMBARASSED AT THIS.

#Adam's Time travel era

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deadpool15 · 7 months

Text

You think you got a chance?

I decided to go to the store, the fridge is looking mad empty right now. Which is extremely difficult for me, with the whole being a mom of a 1 year old boy. Yea, I said a boy, I gave birth to a male specimen. Boys, moms truly don't get enough credit because the shit my son puts me through is just wild. This is what happens when you don't want kids but decide to go out there being a honey freaky fuck yall. Better learn.

I walk into my bedroom, trying to nativgate my closet for an outfit. You see the thing about being a mom means that you need to make sure you child looks so fucking good. Spoiler alert, no one gives a single fuck about you if your child is walking around here looking like dog shit. "Yall know exactly who I'm talking about. I'm not calling you out baby, I'm simply calling you out though. Fight your issues not me." I said to the camera, completely forgetting I'm supposed to be vlogging with my son today.

Speaking of son, I should totally go walk him up. I managed to get him all ready for the day. And then he fucked around and went to sleep, you see some parents try not to let there kids go to sleep because of naps not really being the best for a busy day. "So, yall Cameron is rocking this cozy hoodie that says cookie monster and just some slighty baby jeans with his lil uggs. It's cold out here in Korea, so I'm gonna grab his puffer jacket to make sure he doesn't get cold. But yqll know Cameron does not like that fucking jacket so I always carry his on the go blanket cuz he expects to be picked up and carried around with that blanket thrown on him. The struggle is real. Now as yall can see I look like shit I haven't gotten ready. So I'm gonna wear this crop long sleeve with these pattern-like pants.

I walk into the closet, grabbing the camera to show off the fit(the one above). "Listen, I know I said it was cold, but if you think about it, it's not like really cold, is it? You know what? Don't answer that. I'm wearing the fit because it makes the curves pop. For the girls that question about confidence, I low-key feel like that as backhand ass compliment. Because trust and believe if I was a smaller pretty petite ass bitch no one would ask. I am my own beauty standard representing all the thick girls in Korea. For example, if you are sitting in front of your phone watching this video talking about how you didn't have a stomach until this happened or this happened, stop lying. Yall I've always been a big girl, my son didn't have anything to do that, if anything he taught me how to embrace my body."

"Yall will truly not know love until your kid starts drawing pictures of you, like how you really look. Because kids are honest as fuck. But my baby has seen beauty in different forms, though he is used to my form. It gets a little awkward when he sees skinny girls and ask why they look like that." I said looking at the camera laughing while adding a little jewelry to the fit. "The moral is everyone is beautiful. It's ok to be insecure at times. But remember your a beautiful ass bitch. Younger me would've never walked outside in this crop, but I'm so glad I've been able to see myself how I should."I walk out the room grabbing my keys.

I am making my way to the front of my apartment to grab my diaper bag and get snacks. "Cameron likes to wake craving these pocky things and will literally whoop my ass I'd they aren't there." I reach for my jacket and grab my son and walk out the door. I place Cameron inside od his car seat and place the diaper bag right next to him. He placed his blanket on top of him. It's amazing that he is still sleeping. Before I go to the grocery store, I drive to a pop up Cafe. I need some caffeine to survive this day. I get there looking outside to see that the sky is getting dark, hinting that it will rain soon. So I sit in the car waiting for a while. "So yall I stopped by a Cafe, we are waiting cuz it looks like it's about to fucking pour. I don't know why I said we, cam, is still knocked out. I remember watching some girl talking about how she gave her kids melatonin to sleep. Isn't that like drugging your kids, though? Like ahit I want mine to sleep too, but imagine giving them a gummy snack, and that shit is laced. That is wild."

I look out the window, noticing my dumbass should enter this cafe now before it starts raining or gets crowded. I turn off the car and grab my keys while looking into the rear view mirror at Cam. "Yea, so I thought this part was gonna be easy. I just like to gaslight myself." I step out of the car and open the backseat door and try to carefully grab my son without waking him up. I successfully achieved my goal , grabbed his blanket, and threw it over his body, just in case it started to go to rain. I walk into the shop and get in line while looking at the menu. The line is pretty long. I might be here for a while.

"She is adorable." I hear a voice say behind me, and turn around and see a woman. She is beautiful, I can't tell her age. What I am able to tell is her obvious attraction, with her continuing to bite her lower lips while staring at me. She is giving off an aura of pure confidence while I do enjoy it. It would be quite fun to play with her. "Well, thank you, but she is actually a male," I state and watch her eyes go wide, and she becomes embarrassed. "I'm so sorry. I just thought he was a girl." "No it's cool. Most people assume he is a girl, I don't know if it's cause of the curly hair or the fact that he looks like me." I say slightly, laughing to make sure she doesn't get too anxious.

"You're right. He truly does look like his gorgeous mother. Looks run in the family, I can tell." I make eyes at her. Wow, it seemed I've found a bold one. "Awe, that cute, I'll let you have that one." She smiles it off before I realize that line has shortened. Making me the next person in line. I order a chocolate chip muffin, one of Cam's favorite just in case he wakes up and wants some of it. And ice vanilla latte. I smile at the batista and wait for her to tell me the price. When she does, I move to grab my card before the mysterious women behind me speak up. "Could you add an iced tea with that, and I'll be playing. Thanks." I turned around making eye contact with her, and now I didn't expect that to be her next move. She gestures me to a table. And I look her up and down before deciding to take a seat. I'm checking on Cam to see if he is still resting well. He is.

"You didn't have to pay for that." "Oo I know, but I thought it would leave a lasting impression." She states while smirking, I laugh managing to keep my volume to a minimum. "So you think you can buy me?" Before she can answer, the waiter comes up and gives us both our orders. We both bow slightly and say thank you. Managing to say it at the same time and laughing as the women walks away.

I'm Tiana, by the way, and the little man that you mistook for a girl is Cameron. As you can see, he is so tired, guess that what happens when Mama extends bedtime." She smiles before saying, "Well, like I said, I'm sorry about the whole gender thing."It's like 2023, I could get you canceled for that. You know." We both laugh again. Before I take a sip of my latte. "I'm Monika Shin. Nice to meet you." I move over to shake her hand. "Well, you've never heard of me," I look at her puzzled. I smirk. "Does that always work for you?"

She laughs, "I am quite famous and known around these parts, so usually ma'am." I stare her down before looking at her lips. "You know most people see the baby and then lose interest." She chuckled while finally taking a sip of her drink. "And most people would know who I am, so i guess I'm not most people, "So what I'm hearing is you think you got a chance, that's cute. Well then, let's see, huh?"

#street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #street woman fighter x reader #monika shin #monika shin x reader

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