#She's comfortable in knowing & admitting that there are things she DOESN'T know & likely will never know

[room-surprise]

Yeah I figured it was a reference to a previous ask! I vaguely remembered you getting an ask like this in the past, and wanting to comment on it back then, but not having time LOL so this time I made sure to reblog so I could share my opinion. Sorry, this is going to be long and a bit meandering. I ended up having to look back and forth in the manga for all kinds of references... 😩

I agree that we don't know exactly what happened with Mithrun, the version we see is from Kabru's imagination, and he's summarizing the events - and Mithrun even says that Kabru got various details wrong, so we can assume that we are being presented with the general idea of what happened, minus anything that Kabru thinks is "too complicated" for Laios to understand...

(Based on Kabru's opinion on Laios, this most likely means omitting any complex emotions, relationships, or politics.)

However, Kui also wants to communicate with us efficiently (she is telling a LOT of story VERY quickly), so while things have been simplified, I don't think she's trying to trick us by drawing deceiving things. In other words, I think we are meant to accept most of the story as true, but to be aware that it's more complex than what Kabru tells us.

So in response to that first question asker, I think it's debatable, and that fans disagree on if Mithrun knew or didn't know if his companions in the dungeon were monsters, if they were real people or monsters, if they started as people and got replaced, if some were monsters and some were people all along... and we can't give a certain answer based solely on what we know from the manga or extra materials so far.

The only things I feel comfortable saying definitively is that the snake spouse was not the real person in any way, because there's no way they (Sultha) were in the dungeon, and no way for the demon to bring them into the dungeon, and we know the dungeon only seems capable of using monsters to make fake copies of people, based on the target's knowledge of the person and how they desire them to act. So the snake spouse Mithrun interacted with is just a copy.

I also don't think we can actually say if Mithrun fought his own comrades at any point or not. He might have, he might not. All we do know is that a lot of them died, which Mithrun describes as "being devoured by the dungeon."

It's implied, but not explicitly shown that Milsiril and Helki went into the dungeon with Mithrun's team... and they got out of the dungeon alive, and came back five years later.

(Might be Milsiril on the left side of the image, and in both images they seem to be walking somewhere after passing through a hole in a wall.)

So we know a lot of the original squad died in the dungeon, but we genuinely don't know if all of them died, and when and how those deaths happened.

So then, for my personal opinion about how aware Mithrun is in the dungeon...

I think the demon seduces and ensnares its prey, similar to the psychic succubus mosquitos, or a magic mirror. Kui introduces the demon to us for the first time during the succubus story, and the chapter cover for "Winged Lion" isn't a picture of the winged lion, but instead "monsters that capture your heart", including the succubi and magic mirrors, implying that the demon is also this type of creature.

(There are other types of monsters shown like the nightmares, mimics, mermaids, etc. which I think is an obfuscation tactic in this case, to make what Kui is doing less obvious. She still wants us to think the WL might possibly be a good guy.)

Like the succubi and the mirror, the demon doesn't need to understand your desire, and you don't have to admit to your desire or consent to it, but it will reflect what is inside of you, and its power allows it to give you what you want.

Kui repeatedly associates mirrors with the demon, but never actually has the main cast fight against a mirror monster (I'd guess because she thought it would be redundant).

And from the way the demon keeps trying to give Marcille copies of people (her father, Falin) I think we're meant to understand that the demon prefers to make copies of people: it's easier, and copies will never get in the way by having free will. They'll keep the dungeon lord pacified, which is what the demon needs so it can feed off of them.

As for Mithrun's friends in the dungeon looking "too lively" compared to Marcille's father to be copies or illusions...

They are more lively than Marcille's father, but Marcille's father is only one type of shapeshifting monster, a doppelganger. Not all monsters that imitate humans in Dungeon Meshi do such a bad job of it.

Is that because doppelgangers are bad mimics that don't need to be convincing? Is it because Marcille isn't cooperating with the doppelganger because she doesn't want it around? We don't know but either possibility makes sense.

Mithrun's friends in the dungeon seem well within the capabilities of the shapeshifter (tanuki), the succubi mosquitos, or maybe a mirror. And we know one tanuki can make multiple illusions of four people at the same time, and that some of them are so convincing that people have a hard time telling them apart from their real loved ones.

(Very lively succubi)

(Tanuki shapeshifter copies.)

Kui's also shown us that even the tanuki shapeshifter (which can make incredibly accurate copies) will make poor quality copies if the target doesn't actually know the person they're copying, or doesn't really have an interest in them:

I think the biggest difference between Marcille's doppelganger and Mithrun's friends is Mithrun and Marcille's desires.

Marcille doesn't want her father's copy around, she's resisting the very idea of it existing at all. She knows that it's a copy because she knows her father is dead, that information is deeply rooted in her psyche and not something she can easily forget... She isn't giving the doppelganger octopus more than her most basic memories to play off of. She isn't cooperating.

But the power of the dungeon is so great that she seems to forget her objections eventually and refers to the doppelganger as her father, and gives it a job to do (though she does seem embarrassed about it)... and this all happens within hours of Marcille becoming Dungeon Lord.

Mithrun wants to be where he is, he wants those friends and that lover to be with him, he wants them to love him unconditionally, and never hurt his feelings. He probably doesn't care if they're real or not, his desire is shallow and selfish, he doesn't love any of them, he loves what they can give him and do for him.

In other words, he is giving the dungeon everything it needs to weave a convincing illusion... and if they act "wrong", would he even care? Would he know? How well does he know them? As long as they're giving him what he desires he'll be happy.

Now, again, it's hard to say what exactly happened in the dungeon since Kabru is retelling the story, but Kui is also probably not trying to make things super complicated and hide basic details.

I think it's clear from the art in the manga that Mithrun swings wildly between being in a delusional state as Dungeon Lord, and being aware of what's happening.

Mithrun's dead expression only goes away when he's interacting with things he doesn't want (gold strippers robbing the dungeon).

(I think the unconscious Canary we see in the left panel is probably supposed to be one of Mithrun's "friends" (real or fake), that was knocked unconscious by the gold peelers while attempting to defend the dungeon.)

When the demon begins to eat him, he starts out dead-eyed and confused, but when he realizes something is wrong, his pupils come back and he begins to struggle:

And as a last thought, I'll just add that the only image we really have of Mithrun's friends during his time as the dungeon lord shows them around a table covered with empty plates and no real signs of food or drink.

We know Kui can draw lavish banquets and beautiful food, she can draw plates that have been decimated with only scraps left behind, to indicate that a feast took place. Why did she leave the table so conspicuously empty in this panel?

I think it is supposed to hint that all except for two of the people in that scene don't eat, because they've been replaced. Kui also avoids showing most of their faces, and the one whose face we can see is one of the people with food on his plate...

(He and the Canary next to him are also the only two people at the table who seem to not be focused on Mithrun.)

But again, it's all debatable, and there isn't a concrete answer for sure. It depends on how you read it and what you feel Kui was trying to communicate...

But I think "Mithrun was delusional and not fully aware, and his friends were replaced by copies or died over time" is probably the most accurate way of describing it, based on everything else Kui shows us about the Dungeon Lords.

Personally I agree with you that Mithrun knew his friends were all illusions, and tbh, I think he was very okay with it

About Mithrun vs Marcille on the demon's copies of real-life people: Mithrun's desires were all related to image and self-worth, never the actual people in his dungeon. He didn't necessarily want the real thing - arguably he doesn't even like Sultha since he thought of the real one as "sketchy" - he just wanted the image of her, he wanted the image of being better than his brother, he wanted the image of having friends, etc. I believe that's why he was so okay with the demon making fake copies of his friends. It contrasts Marcille being so against the lion's attempt to make a copy of her dad. She wanted her actual father, so she strongly rejected the copy. But Mithrun didn't necessarily want Sultha, he wanted the image of her and the pride that came with her choosing him over his brother, so he likely didn't care that the demon was just making illusions. I agree with you that he was aware, at least on a subconscious level, that he was just playing pretend.

There's also that quote where it said his desire was to be safe from anyone who could harm him. It's possible that he was a bit afraid/paranoid of the real-life counterparts, and thought the illusion people couldn't possibly hurt him, so he felt safer around the fake people and ended up preferring them. This way he could have his friends and his girlfriend without the constant fear of getting hurt. He could feel wanted and important and loved without being on edge about what they secretly thought of him, or if they secretly wanted to hurt him. That's exactly what he wanted - the illusions fulfilled his desires better than the real counterparts ever could.

I don't really think it's a matter of image, there was nobody there to put on a show for, the show of having friends was before her became a dungeon lord, to me it's more that If you really believe nobody could ever love the real you, fake friends created by the demon is ok

Marcille had a father that truly loved her and friends that she wanted to protect, so it makes sense she was averse to the version made up by the demon at first, from the hints we get Mithrun had nobody he had a real connection with (here exemplified by what he thought of his teamates and the impression Milsiril had of him contrasted with the dungeon)

I don't really understand if other than Sultha the others are real canaries that ended up being driven away just like people were driven away from Thistle, I don't really put it past them to fall for the demon with the promise of a safer life where they don't have to risk their lives only to realize the downwards spiral is inescapable for the dungeon lord.

I don't think it's as important if he "really liked" Sultha or not, I think it's more related to insecurity and fear of rejection, having his brother chosen over him even tho "he's better" (the "perfect youth" image)

Mithrun was thrown away for being a bastard so being faced with the life he could have had probably broke him, I think there's some pride involved too in a twisted way but I read more like something related to "the life I wish I had", envy/jealousy like Milsiril describes. Being able to love and be loved back was never an option especially after joining the canaries

The illusion of this wasn't perfect as we can see, and with the paranoia and everything I doubt he ever really "preferred" the fakes to real life but rather it was all he had?

Idk I'm not good with words hope this made some sense, but even Marcille who said the recreation of her dad was "unnecessary" (quite the underreaction) still kept him around until the others defeated him so I don't really know what it says about Mithrun, maybe if he wasn't imprisoned into the book he could have manipulated Thistle into accepting a fake Delgal too?

[beanarie]

here's another scene for the fic i posted a day or two ago. alternate title: rip philip buckley.

the messenger part two

"I don't want to go," Evan said.

Tommy glanced up from the flight listings on his tablet. Since finishing his delayed shower (alone), Evan had perched on the far end of the bed with his back turned. "All anyone there knew was a nineteen year-old who failed at everything. It- It was never home."

Tommy put the tablet aside. "Evan, I don't give a shit if you go or not." That was blunt even for him, bordering on cruel, but Evan gave a watery laugh. He heard what Tommy didn't say. You're the only thing I care about. Make the decision that's right for you.

Evan made a sad sound and crawled into Tommy's arms. "She's going to be so much," he grated out, his head against Tommy's chest. It wasn't comfortable. Evan ran warm as a baseline. Tonight he felt like he had a fever. "I don't think I can handle it. But I can't- I can't do that to Maddie. What kind of garbage person would make her deal with that alone?"

Tommy ran his fingers through Evan's damp hair. "Maddie won't be alone." Her husband was literally one of the best people Tommy had ever met. Howie had grabbed her hands the instant she and Evan had separated, and hadn't let go of her the entire time. He'd still been holding on when they'd left, Evan bringing up the rear toting a sleeping Jee-Yun.

"Not the same," Evan said, which was true, but Tommy didn't care, not right then.

Tommy looked over at his buzzing phone. "Listen-"

Evan didn't shake. He vibrated, a low level hum throughout his body. "Just let me pretend for a minute that we're not going."

"Okay."

One hand made a loose fist, gathering the fabric of Tommy's shirt at the small of his back. "We're gonna stay here on the other side of the country while they bury my dad. I won't have to hear my mom crying like her heart is in worse shape than his was. No one will tell me I'm a bad son who never came to visit."

Tommy rested his chin on the top of Evan's head. An angle his neck didn't enjoy, but it was worth it. "If anyone so much as thinks that in your direction, I will punch them in the throat."

Evan ran his fingers down Tommy's forearm. "They didn't even tell us he was having surgery."

"Would it have helped?" Tommy asked in all sincerity. They'd both witnessed death numerous times. Was it better when loved ones could see the loss coming? Not always.

"I don't know," Evan admitted. "But things were- they were better, you know? We talked on purpose sometimes and it went fine. I don't understand why they didn't at least tell Maddie."

"Do you think she'll try to throw it in your face at some point?"

Evan flinched, proving Tommy's guess had hit its mark. "God, I- I hate thinking of her that way. She's my mom."

"Motherhood doesn't come with emotional regulation, unfortunately."

"She was better," Evan said again. He exhaled loudly. "Maybe it- it won't be so bad."

"Maybe. I'm here regardless."

After a moment of silence, Evan lifted himself up with a hand on either side of Tommy's hips. They kissed quietly, and he laid his forehead on Tommy's shoulder. "What did I do," he asked, almost to himself. "What did I do to deserve you?"

If pressed, Tommy could rattle off a list. But Evan didn't need to hear about his willingness to set himself on fire for someone he loved, or about how he could see in a glance that Tommy was having a bad day, about how quickly he'd learned what Tommy needed at times like those. "You were you. That's all you ever needed to be."

[a-998h]

Emotional Storm

Well, this is not good. Vaggie and I just joined everyone else downstairs. What I'm now looking at is Charlie with red string, papers, and a multiple cork boards while she looks like she hasn't slept. He'll, she's not even fully put together as she only has her shirt, bootie, pants, and apparently suspenders on. She's mumbling about stuff relating to the hotel, but I can't hear her. We're all worried, especially Vaggie. I have no idea where Alastor is, but that takes a backseat to whatever is happening with Charlie.

"Charlie?...Sweetie, you, uh. You good?" Vaggie asks.

"Nope, no! Not really! Haha!" Charlie tells her.

That does nothing to reassure any of us. Charlie goes on about how she's trying to figure out why the hotel isn't working. As she rambles I feel the fucking hotel start to shake! Her hair briefly flairs up, and a pair of horns grows from her head and disappear just as fast. I give Charlie a hug, and she returns said hug in a manner that will either break my neck of suffocate me. As she starts spiraling once more, Vaggie speaks up.

"Maybe it's time..." Vaggie says.

"No," Charlie responds to the half finished sentence

"To ask..." Vaggie continues.

"Don't say it." Charlie begs.

"Your dad," Vaggie finishes.

Charlie groans as Vaggie finishes her sentence. Vaggie assures Charlie that as much as Charlie hates the idea, we need as many people on our side as we can get. My eyes widen as the only way for Charlie to be princess of Hell is if her dad is... Lucifer. My heart rate soars at the thought of seeing Lucifer himself. The only version of Lucifer I know is the hot version played by Tom Ellis. But, since Hell is now my new reality, I might actually get to meet the real Lucifer.

"He let the extermination happen to begin with. They just had a meeting and said, 'Go ahead and kill everyone!'" Charlie rants.

I highly doubt that's what actually happened, but Charlie knows he dad better than I do so I'll have to take her word for it. Charlie gasps, and says she has an idea. Vaggie asks if her idea is killing everyone, but Charlie shakes her head.

"He could get me a meeting with Heaven," Charlie explains cheerfully.

Vaggie reminds Charlie that there was a meeting with Heaven, lead by dickmaster, I mean Adam. Charlie says that it doesn't count cause Adam is an asshole, which seems like a fair observation. She reasons that Adam isn't in charge of all of Heaven, so there must be some angels who will listen. Charlie pulls out her phone and turns her back. Me and Husk can sense the hesitation in the air. Husk asks Charlie what the hold up is.

"You got daddy issues?" He asks.

Charlie explains that after her parents divorce she was never close with her dad, so basically admitting she has daddy issues. I kind of know how Charlie feels, except I have mommy issues. Everyone shares their excitement about meeting Lucifer, and Angel has to pull the knife out of Niffty's hand.

As Charlie calls her dad, I can tell things are rocky. As Charlie wads through this awkward conversation I give her a thumbs up and a smile. Charlie beats around the bush until she gains the courage to say what we need.

"I need to speak to Heaven. Well, whoever in charge up there, above Adam, above anybody. I need to go to the top!" Charlie asks.

I smile, happy that Charlie finally worked up the courage to ask for this giant favor. From the look her face, I can guess Mr.Lucifer said no. Charlie gets annoyed and starts practically begging for her dad's help. Vaggie grabs her hand and comforts her.

"Please, just come see what I'm trying to do. You'll see why it's a really good idea and Heaven is bound to agree if I get the chance to talk to them," Charlie begs her dad.

It hurts my heart seeing Charlie look so sad. But, her expression changes to a small smile before she pulls the phone away from her ear. So, we now have an hour before Lucifer, King of Hell, gets to the hotel. Vaggie goes toned down drill sergeant mode, holding a rolled up paper in a threating manner. I help where I can, mostly with setting up the food and drinks table. I'm still so nervous, and I guess it was visible on my face. By now, Charlie is fully dressed and ready.

"Hey, you ok?" Charlie asks me.

"Yeah, I'm just worried. I mean, you're dad is a big deal," I confess to her.

Charlie pats my head, assuring me that her dad will love me. Alastor has finally come down from his room. He asks me what's happening and I explain what's happening. The aura around him changes, and it makes me feel off. He pinches my cheeks and tells me to be on my best behavior. Something felt off, that ever present smile was hiding something.

"Ok everyone, it's show time!" Charlie tells us.

She opens the door and standing on the other side is a short guy with sharp teeth, wearing a large, white top hat and a red and white outfit similar to a ring master. Charlie greets her dad, who hugs her in what appears to be a bone crushing hug. The look in Alastor's eyes is not reflected in his smile. Apparently, the cat is named Keekee and the two demons that follow Charlie are Razzle and Dazzle. I never expected to the king of Hell to be so... silly. I keep these thoughts to myself cause the silliness might be a front.

"Wow, this place sure looks, uh... uh-huh. Yeah. Uh-huh. It's got a lot of character," Lucifer says as he walks around the lobby.

It doesn't take him long to notice the werid bar spot. Alastor uses his werid shadow magic to appear near Lucifer, his voice dripping with contempt. The two throw jabs at each other, and this is the first time I hear Alastor swear and Angel begrudgingly hands me some money from our running bet about Alastor being incapable of swearing. Charlie separated the pair and showed her dad the parlor, praising Alastor for his contribution to the hotel.

"Charlie, dear, why don't you introduce me to your other friends?" Lucifer redirects.

Charlie starts off by introducing Vaggie, to which her dad makes it awkward by getting a tad overly excited. Vaggie brushes off the awkwardness and Charlie directs her dad's attention to me, Sir Pentious, and Angel.

"Your Majesty!" Sir Pentious says with a salute before landing face first into a tray of cookies.

Angel, using his flirty voice, calls Lucifer a short king.

"And this is Reader, our youngest guest," Charlie tells her dad.

Lucifer's POV

I look at the guess Charlie points out. They don't look any older than a teenager. Poor kid, but they must've done something to end up in Hell... wait, are those angel wings. I rush towards the kid, giving them a hug, I get a closer look at the wings. Yep, these are genuine angel wings... like the ones I have. Azrael has been sending me letters, and shared news of an angel who was put on trial for not only disobeying Heaven, but also having sex with a mortal... a mortal. Holy fuck, this kid isn't just any sinner, they're the kid of that angel! The poor thing probably doesn't know, and who knows if Heaven knows about them. They're happy here, and all of Heaven's rules and expectations would crush that joy... they don't deserve that. Don't worry duckling, I'll keep you safe.

"Hello, your Majesty," the duckling calls me.

I laugh it off, trying to put them at ease.

"You don't need to be so formal, you may call me, Lucifer!" I tell them.

They nod, that's good. Today it's Lucifer, in a few months it'll be dad!

Reader's POV

Charlie introduces Husk and Niffty to her dad. After Niffty says "I clean", the chandelier almost falls on Lucifer!

*Timeskip*

"Oh you tack piece of..." Lucifer sings before the front door is kicked open.

"It's me! Yes, it's me!! I know you were all waiting for me. I'm here, what a gas. Took a while but I'm present at last! It's me! It's me! Mimzzzyyyyyy!" Some random flapper lady sings.

"Who?" Lucifer asks.

She gets annoyed, and ask why everyone is staring at her. She thinks it's cause we think she's adorable, I'm staring because she just kicked to the door open and sang part of a musical number. Alastor walks to this Mimzy lady with open arms. It's clear the two know each other. They hug and Mimzy explains how "I was in the neighborhood". I highly doubt that but whatever. She calsl the hotel a "ritzy slob factory" and says that everyone is welcome here. Charlie is so happy to learn that Alastor has more friends.

"Oh, yeah. We go way back, ran in the same circles when we were alive. You know, this one use to frequent the club where I used to perform. He's the only one I know who could pound whiskey like a sailor then keep up with me on the dance floor," she says.

I look at Alastor and I just have a hard time imagining him getting shitfaced drunk. I've never seen him drink, so maybe he doesn't like Hell alcohol? Alastor praises and jokes about seeing Mimzy in her heyday, to which she says she's still in her prime as she pulls up the front of her dress. She turns her head and sees Lucifer. I see her push Sir Pentious out of her way as she walks over. She gives a curtesy before telling Alastor that, "You gotta warn a girl when she's in mixed company." Lucifer plays along before returning his attention to me.

"As much as I'd lobe to catch up, Charlie and I have a tour to continue," Alastor tells Mimzy.

Lucifer says that Charlie is capable of doing it herself, to which Alastor shuts that idea done. He tells Mimzy to stay with the rest of us here as he follow, Lucifer, Charlie, and Vaggie. Mimzy wanders over to the bar where Husk sounds very upset that Mimzy is here. Mimzy then turns her attention to Niffty, who is chasing after a roach. Husk, reluctantly, slips Mimzy a drink after he makes a martini for Angel and pours some juice for me.

"So, you and Alastor are like what? Friends?" Angel asks.

Mimzy says that's a fitting word for it. Sir Pentious, Angel, and I share a look of surprise. Mimzy ask why were all surprised, and Angel says that he didn't know Alastor had any friends, bring up how much of a mystery Alastor still is despite being here a long time.

Mimzy tells us how Alastor randomly showed up in Hell and was disregarded until heavy hitter overlords started going missing. No one knew what happened until a radio broadcast of the missing overlords screams appeared, and that he never lacked new voices to add once he reveled himself as the radio demon. Mimzy ends by saying that Alastor becomes a kitten if you give him "a couple fingers of rye" and play jazz muzic.

I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I knew Alastor wasn't one to be messed with, but this... holy fuck. Angel uses one of his hands to pet my hair, whispering comforting things to me.

"Shush, shush, it's ok bambino," he tells me.

Mimzy tries to downplay the scare factor of Alastor, saying that he hasn't done any of that for awhile. Husk is gone and Sir Pentious is also scared. I knew Alastor was dangerous based on what I was told, but this... this makes me fear for my safety. Tears prock the corners of my eyes as Angel tries his best to calm me down.

Extermination and Alastor being a psychotic murderer scares me, I'm so scared. Angel pulls me into a side hug, promising to bring me Fat Nuggets later. That makes me feel a bit better, and I thank Angel. Sir Pentious brings me the tray of the cookies he and Niffty baked. The cookies taste amazing and I thank him for sharing.

"This... This must be real scary for you, bambino?" Angel asks.

I nod, there's no point in hiding it. Angel reassures me that I'll be safe so long as I don't leave the hotel. This moment of warm, feels really, really nice. Sure, I'm in Hell, but I'm surrounded by decent ish folks who like me.

"My dear child, just know we'll make sure nothing happens to you," Sir Pentious syas. That makes me feel even better. This is a moment of comfort I never expected to experience in Hell, but here it is. I never want this warm moment to end. The moment is soon ruined by the hotel shaking.

"Mimzy, we know you're in there you lousy bitch!" A dep voice yells from outside.

I look at Mimzy as she slinks to the floor. Vaggie, Lucifer, and Charlie come through a portal and we all look to Mimzy for an explanation.

"I maaaaaaay be in some trouble with some loan shark's I may or may not have borrowed fifty grand from," she says. This is followed by more banging from the front door and Mimzy hiding next to Husk behind the bar. We can all hear the loan sharks yelling from outside, and they're out for blood.

"And I may have stolen a car... and crashed it... into the loan shark's girlfriend. But that bitch had it coming!" Mimzy says.

The loan sharks are still trying to batter down the door and I'm glaring at her. Rule one of loan sharks, dont fuck with them and she failed at that spectacularly! Fireballs come through the windows, which upsets Niffty. We all start panicking and trying to keep the hotel from falling apart while Lucifer is telling Charlie that she can't expect any better from sinners.

Vaggie gears up to fight, but Alastor stops her. He looks at me, telling me to cover my ears and close my eyes before he pats my head. The area glows green as black tentacles sprout from his back and his eyes turn to old fashioned radio dials. I hear the loan sharks screaming even as I have my eyes closed. I feel and hand on my shoulder and it's Angel pulling me behind and upturned couch. Charlie snaps, yelling at her father about how despite Alastor handling the situation more sadistically than she would like, Alastor is doing it for Charlie.

"How come he can have faith in me but my own father can't?" She asks, her tone sad.

Angel pulls a bag of popcorn from nowhere and is invested in this "drama".

Alastor's POV

"Oh, I missed getting to let off steam," I say to myself.

Hearing footsteps behind me I assume it's Charlie or mon petitange, but much to my dismay, it's Mimzy. Mimzy praises my display of violence, but I peek over her shoulder to see mon petit ange sharing popcorn with the spider and Husk. We'll, it's nice to see this incident didn't traumatize them. Mimzy "apologizes" and says that Charlie could take care of mess for me.

"I think you should fo Mimzy. Niw." I strenly tell her.

She laughs, clearly thinking I'm joking.

"I mean it. You deliberately brought danger to this place and mon petit ange just to have me clean up your mess. I can't have that here," I tell her.

She keeps thinking I'm joking,. She asks if I care about the hotel, while that is debatable, I do want mon petit ange out of danger. I warn her for the last time to leave and she storms off like a child throwing a tantrum.

Reader' POV

I chuckle as Mimzy storms off. Our attention is back on Charlie and Lucifer. Charlie is begging him to help and him turning it down.

*One Muiscal number later*

"Aww, that was sweet," Sir Pentious says with tears in his eyes.

I wipe my eyes. It reminds me of my own dad... the one I left behind when I died. Sir Pentious gives me a side hug, and Lucifer says that he can get Charlie the meeting. Charlie assures her dad that she'll be OK in Heaven. Once he has that assurance, he disappears in a swirl of gold and red magic. I give Charlie a strong hug, one that she returns.

"This next part is gonna be scary. You ready?" Vaggie asks Charlie.

Charlie pulls Vaggie into a hug, saying that she's ready cause she'll have Vaggie with her.

"In spirit, right?" Vaggie asks, clearly uneasy about this.

"In Heaven," Charlie declares.

Vaggies gives an uneasy yay, still trapped in the hug. Now, things are going to get scary and things are going to change. But, I'm ready now more than ever for change.

[battlelaine]

Which DND class suits your personality?

Cleric of the Twilight Domain

You’re dedicated, caring, and probably a sucker for happy endings. You spend so much time helping other people that you might forget to take care of yourself. You’re very idealistic and have a strong sense of faith in your beliefs, which may be actual religious beliefs or just your personal moral code. You like to be prepared for a variety of situations and you may have a bit of a protective side. The twilit transition from light into darkness often brings calm and even joy, as the day's labors end and the hours of rest begin. The darkness can also bring terrors, but the gods of twilight guard against the horrors of the night. Clerics who serve these deities bring comfort to those who seek rest and protect them by venturing into the encroaching darkness to ensure that the dark is a comfort, not a terror. You’re not the type of person to fear the dark or the night. You’re comfortable with a little uncertainty you might find yourself drawn to the mysterious or the unknown. You have a quiet bravery that you may use to help inspire others to overcome their fears. You’re a protective person but you protect not by force or physical strength, but through inspiration and keeping a watchful eye out for potential danger.

[rafey-baby]

What would sensitive!reader do without older!rafe protecting her from the invisible monsters in their home?

c/w: mostly fluff, her being scared & rafe comforting her while also being a menace, teeny tiny bit of angst regarding their age-gap, use of daddy (once)

wc: 1.7k

unfortunately won't be watching a single scary movie this halloween cause she's literally me but happy kinktober & spooky season xx

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She’s not exactly sure why she agreed to watch the new horror film Rafe’s friends wanted to see at a Halloween themed gathering he’d dragged her into. She wasn’t even the biggest fan of his friends, which is why she didn’t want to go in the first place.

However, when he’d mumbled a honeyed “It’s no fun without you and don’t wanna leave my girl alone on Halloween” into her hair, she’d reluctantly agreed; not one to refuse him of anything when he looked at her with that specific softened blue coloring his eyes.

And there was also the prospect of making him happy that finally made her melt into his wishes.

And she wanted to like his friends, she really did. But it wasn’t exactly easy when they kept bragging about their accomplishments and how much money they had every opportunity they found in such an arrogant tone, it made her roll her eyes when they weren’t looking.  

Luckily, she could at least converse with their partners who were always fun company to sip wine with and giggle about anything and everything. And along with the warmth of Rafe’s gaze flickering over to her every once in a while, as he talked with his friends and coworkers, she was actually beginning to enjoy herself. 

Up until the point when someone suggested they watch a movie. 

“You sure you wanna watch this? S’okay if you wanna go home, could come up with something else to keep us entertained…” Rafe had murmured into her ear with his arms around her on the couch the whole group had settled down on.

He knew how paranoid she could get; how easily she’d turn into a scaredy cat who once couldn’t sleep alone for a month after sitting through an entire scary movie in the cinema.  

And she truly doesn’t know why she didn’t just tell him she wanted to leave when the film started playing on the big screen of Topper’s television. She was going to, but when her eyes flitted over to him bringing a glass of whiskey to his lips in a carefree manner; she didn’t have the heart to ruin his fun because he seemed to be enjoying himself. After all, it wasn’t often he let himself relax due to his hectic work schedule packed with tedious meetings and whatnot.  

And on top of that, she’s already self-conscious over the age-gap between her and Rafe; sometimes gets a headache over the notion of him meeting someone more mature one dreadful day and deciding he doesn’t want to play house with her any longer.

After all, his friends were all getting engaged left and right, while she still holds the title of being his girlfriend. And even if she isn’t sure she’d be ready for marriage quite yet, she’s still slightly upset that he’s never even so much as mentioned the matter. 

And she's not sure if it's because she's younger than him and he assumes she doesn't want a ring on her finger too soon or if he simply just doesn't want to make things too definitive with her.

Nonetheless, it's something she's been thoroughly overthinking and mulling over recently, even if she knows it doesn't benefit her in any shape or form. Apparently, her mind just likes to always have some topic to ruminate over and obsessively worry about, or else it'll have too much free time.

Therefore, she can admit that she didn’t want to appear as a big baby who couldn’t stomach anything even remotely scary (she really couldn’t). And was it such a crime to not want to make a scene in front of all his friends? 

That’s why she ends up meekly nodding her head and assuring him she was fine — which he didn’t entirely believe — but smiled nonetheless at the fact that she was willing to get out of her comfort zone for his sake, before pulling her closer to his side.  

However, when the white letters of the end credits finally rolled after a few gruesome and eerie hours later, she was anything but fine. 

Her weakened frame is trembling and she’s entirely too jumpy even after they’ve said their goodbyes and stepped past the threshold into the safe haven of their home.  

“Told you we should’ve just left,” he tuts at her when she flinches at the October wind rustling the autumnal foliage outside the window.  

“Rafe, what was that?” She squeaks out when she hears another sound coming from outside — presumably their neighbor — however, there’s always the possibility of it being a serial killer simply waiting for the right moment to pounce.  

“What was what?” He huffs out a chuckle in amusement, causing her to pout.  

“This isn’t funny. I’m scared,” she whines, heart beating faster than ever along with her breathing unsteady.

“I know you are. Shit, forgot why I don’t let you watch scary movies,” he shakes his head, padding over to the kitchen to fill up a glass of water; her feet immediately running after him.  

“Hey, hey. I’m right here, yeah?” He laughs tenderly when she practically glues herself to his big and comforting arm with how tightly she’s hugging it against her chest.  

“Promise you’re not gonna leave me alone?” She blinks up at him with her pupils dilated, nervous. 

“It’s past midnight. Of course, I’m not leaving, I’m exhausted. Let’s get ready for bed, yeah?” He suggests calmly, managing to placate her some with his appeasing presence. Although the spine-chilling scenes still play behind her eyelids with every blink. 

She follows him to the bathroom and he tries not to laugh when she insists on staying there even while he’s peeing.  

“Want me to check under the bed for monsters?” His sickly-sweet tone is a stark contrast to the annoying smirk plastered on his face when they pad over to their bedroom after brushing their teeth. 

“Ray…I’m being serious,” she scowls. 

“So am I?” He feigns confusion with a furrow of his brows. 

Before she has the chance to complain about him being mean, he’s already crouching down on the floor and poking his head under the bed into the darkness he’s braved himself to submerge into. And she’s far too curious not to peer down as well, however, she can’t really see a thing from behind his broad shoulders.  

Suddenly, he lets out a loud gasp — making her jump back and nearly trip on her feet — before his breathy giggle follows soon after. 

“That’s not funny,” she grumbles as exasperation drags her lips downwards. 

“I’m sorry, baby. You jus’ make it so easy,” he approaches her with an apologetic expression that doesn’t come off as all that empathetic when he’s fighting off an amused grin the entire time.  

“C’mere, yeah?” He coaxes her before tugging her into his strong arms; not letting go even when she tries to pull away since she’s still mad at him.  

“This one really got to you, huh?” He murmurs into her hair before beginning to soothingly rock back and forth when she finally halts her pursuits of escape.  

A faint hum is the only response she grants him.  

“Don’t remember you being this scared since we went to that haunted house with your friends last year, remember?” His warm chest rumbles in a pacifying manner in tandem with his words.  

“How could I forget,” she huffs out.  

“Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t wanna watch it? You know I wouldn’t have minded leaving,” he speaks softly.  

“I don’t know…just didn’t wanna seem like a baby in front of your friends,” she sniffles.  

“Since when do you care what they think? You hate them,” he argues with a lopsided smile when he releases his hold on her in order to unzip his jeans and change into something more comfortable for the night.  

“Hate is a strong word,” she defends herself as she pulls one of Rafe’s old t-shirts over her head and tries to focus on his familiar scent still lingering on the worn-out fabric instead of the imaginary monsters lurking behind the windows.  

“Is it?” He graces her with a lighthearted narrow of his eyes.  

“Fine. I don’t like them but they’re your friends, which means that I want them to like me,” she mumbles out.  

“Don’t really give a shit if they like you or not, which they obviously do. Think a little too much since you can’t help but be the sweetest angel even to the people you hate,” he grumbles out as he walks over to close the bedroom door.  

“And honestly, would much rather just stay with you than those pretentious idiots. Next time you wanna go home, just tell me. Don’t want you lying to me, okay?” He says with something sincere sparkling in the lagoons of his eyes.  

“Okay,” she promises when suddenly, he switches the lights off with a click, causing her muscles to tense.  

“Ray, why would you do that?” She sounds alarmed; inhales and exhales growing labored because the bedroom is now pitch black and there could be anything hiding in the murky corners of the room since she can’t even see herself.  

“Shh, calm down. I’ll protect you, yeah?” He croons, before he’s guiding her under the covers with a big hand on the small of her back; following shortly behind her and tugging her flush against his steady chest. 

“You’re safe with me. Daddy’s not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?” His saccharine murmurs reach her racing mind and offer it momentary rest on the soft petals of his tranquil voice.  

She hums against the skin of his neck as her eyes begin to slowly adjust to the darkness surrounding them; the dingy shadows crawling along the walls appearing less and less threatening by the second when she’s in the warmth of his protective embrace.  

“Want your stuffie?” He asks, knowing her all too well.  

“Mhm,” she nods against him before he’s reaching a hand behind the pillows because somehow her stuffed animal always manages to end up in the most peculiar of places. At this point though, he already knows where to look since he’s usually the one who has to locate it for her.

Nowadays, she doesn’t need it too often since she has Rafe volunteering to be her own personal teddy bear, but whenever he’s working past midnight, she likes to hold onto something that brings her comfort because she isn’t particularly fond of the idea of sleeping alone. 

He soon offers her the plushy lamb and she gives him a grateful smooch against his cheek along with a muffled ‘I love you’.  

And that night, he lulls her into dreamland with a warm palm resting on her tummy and his mellow breathing placating her distraught mind.

[lowkeyren]

BUT YOU BELONG TO ME!

in which — some jealousy headcanons / scenarios for our favourite luofu men!

featuring — dan heng, blade, jing yuan (separately) x gn!reader

wc: total 1.8k, from req: here!, they're so silly goodbye, march + fu xuan cameo ;) reblogs w comments are appreciated, please enjoy!!!

#DAN HENG

look me in the eyes and tell me dan heng wouldn’t be the “i'm jealous, but i don’t wanna show it” (but it’s so PAINFULLY obvious that he’s jealous) type, you can’t.

definitely amusing to watch him play it cool, cus he has nothing else going on in his brain when you’re within 10 metre radius from him. 

honestly it would have to be quite specific situations if he ever gets jealous because he likes to keep you close by his side as often as possible. dating or not, he would have some sort of protective instinct —always making sure you’re secure and cared for. (and yes of course march teases him for it, he never admits it though.)

dan heng tries to focus on the book in his hands, but his mind refuses to make any sense of the words on the page —at least not when you’re standing so close to boothill. (too close for his liking anyway)

the cyborg sits at the opposite end of the couch where dan heng was, while you deftly adjust a compartment of his, engaging in small talk as he makes lighthearted jokes with you. dan heng hears your laughter ring out; the laughter that he adores so dearly, the laughter that never fails to warm his chest, and the laughter he wishes he was the reason for instead.

his eyes flicker up from the page to sneak a glance at you, the way your hands glide over boothill's body churns an ugly feeling, twisting in his chest. he shifts in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the unease remains.

his focus on you is suddenly shattered by a loud voice that belongs to no other than march, "dan heng, if you grip that book any harder, you might tear off a page." she stands in front of him, hands on her waist. 

“the way i am holding my book is perfectly fine, now if you will, i must get back to re—”

“oh c’mon! we all know your ass is not actually reading that book!” he raises an eyebrow, and march only rolls her eyes in response. “it’s literally upside-down.” she teases, unable to hold back a chuckle. 

dan heng glances down at the book in his hands, finally noticing the upside-down text, to which he quickly closes the book and puts it down. "maybe i was just testing your observational skills.”

march shakes her head, "yeah right… just admit you’re too busy staring at them!”

“no i’m n—” he begins to protest but is interrupted when you suddenly appear in front of him. “staring at who?” you tilt your head curiously, and he can only hope that you don’t hear the loud thumping of his heart. 

march giggles as she runs off to who-knows-where, he silently curses her for leaving him in this predicament. he manages to regain his composure, though his cheeks retain a faint pink hue. “ahem, anyway…” he trails off when you sit down next to him, your thighs brushing against each other.

alright you can’t keep doing this to him. he’s not a cyborg but it certainly seems like he’s malfunctioning at that moment. (though he doesn't mind if you have to “repair” him next; he considers it far preferable to having your hands on boothill anyway.)

#BLADE

this guy REEKS of jealousy. 

he gets jealous over anything —saying “good night!” to an acquaintance? well unfortunately, i don’t think they’re going to be having a very good night; a friendly smile from a passerby? the sudden chill in the air accompanied by his sharp glare is enough to make them rethink their life decisions. 

and the worst part? he knows it. he's aware of how irrational his jealousy can be, but that doesn't stop the surge of possessiveness that washes over him.

(deep down, he just wants to feel secure in your attention and affection, but it’s true that his jealousy sometimes gets the better of him.) 

blade’s “things to get rid of” list exponentially grows with each passing day, ranging from general items he sees no use of, to addresses of people who have wronged you in the past. 

but there’s one item on the list that stands out from the rest, the one item he can’t seem to bring himself to get rid of, no matter how hard he tries.

37. “blade plushie”

okay but what kind of website is “stellaron hunters fan merch for sell.com” anyway? since when do they have a fanbase, and why did you have to buy a plushie of him, of all things? 

he shoots daggers at the plushie sitting on your bed, on his side of your bed. while he can't always be by your side, surely there's no need for an inferior replacement?

blade sits down beside you, discreetly moving the plushie out of the way. just as you turn to reach for it, he wraps his arm around you and snuggles up to your side; you immediately pause at his affectionate gesture; his hair brushes against your neck as he buries his face into it.

“blade.. what are you doing?” you turn your attention to him, much to his delight. 

“why not spend more time with the real deal instead of… that.” he tightens his grip around you, at this point he isn’t even trying to hide his jealousy (over a plushie lmao) anymore. 

"you mean mr. edgelord...?" you barely manage to stifle your laughter as blade shoots up beside you. doesn’t hurt to tease him for a bit, right?

“what did you say… “edgelord”?” he scoffs, his face twisting into a scowl. he can’t believe you gave that thing a nickname, how ridiculous. he makes a mental note to get rid of it asap. 

“yeah, what about it? jealous that he’s better than you?” you smirk, leaning in close to his face. perhaps you’re enjoying his expression of pure bitterness a little too much, who knew such a handsome face could look so hilariously indignant? 

his eyes twinkle in amusement, before closing in the distance. “hah, never.” his tone tinged with a touch of possessiveness that he can't quite hide.

“really? you seem like you’re about to kill it.” you wrap your arms around his neck, his expression softens for just a split second, but you’re able to catch it anyway. “would you please spare mr. edgelord if i give you a kiss?”

he doesn’t respond with words; he presses his lips against yours, gently cradling the back of your head. (you quickly turn mr. edgelord to face the wall before blade pulls you away)

maybe he’ll spare “it” for another day or so, just don’t let him catch you hugging “it” in your sleep again, alas you want “it” to suffer the same fate as the others on his list.

#JING YUAN

hmm our beloved general… well he trusts you, and believes that you won’t do anything rash; but on the other hand there are just some things that neither of you can control, whether it’s letters sent in to ask for his hand in marriage or admires trying to sweep you off your feet (before he can). 

though not many people would approach you once your relationship goes public, given that he’s the general and all. but imagine him before the two of you became official, clinging to you to fend off your admirers, and the expression on their faces when you shake your head, denying that you’re dating at all. 

“as for the situation at cloudford— general, are you even listening?” fu xuan furrows her brows, and crosses her arms, clearly annoyed. “ah my apologies lady fu, please keep going.” jing yuan only flashes a half-hearted smile at her before glancing over to your direction again.

you feel a pair of eyes boring into your back, undoubtedly jing yuan’s; but you pay it no mind, choosing to focus on the discussion at hand. his grip on his teacup tightens when he sees the foxian talking to you leans closer to catch your words. fu xuan raises an eyebrow in concern, unaware but still sensing the rising tension; his eyes visibly twitch the moment their hand brushes against yours.

“lady fu, let’s reschedule our meeting for another time. i believe i have some… important matters to attend to.” jing yuan rises up from his seat before fu xuan can reply, swiftly making his way towards you.

you’re startled by the sudden feeling of jing yuan’s arms around you, his chest pressing against your back, as he places his chin against your head. “sorry to interrupt, what’re you two discussing about?” the foxian is taken aback by the general's sudden appearance, and especially by your current position with him. 

“n-nothing general!” the foxian seems to hesitate before continuing, “if it isn’t rude to ask, are the two of you…in a relationship?” jing yuan’s face lights up with his usual lazy smile, but this time it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

your eyes widen in surprise as he presses his lips against your nape, you shiver at his touch, a rush of warmth spreads across your cheeks. you should deny it, to say that you're not in a relationship at all, but you can't bring yourself to. instead, you divert your gaze from the foxian, hoping to spare yourself any further embarrassment.

“go on, tell them.” he whispers lowly so that only you can hear him. this bastard, you’re going to give him a stern talking to after this..! “sorry to cut this short, please excuse us.” you give a polite nod before pulling the general away.

two days later, as you’re walking along the streets of central starskiff haven, you come across a group of people gathered around a stall. curious, you head over to check out what’s happening. —you’re absolutely mortified to discover stacks of articles detailing recent events of you and jing yuan.

“breaking news! the general is secretly married?!” / “the truth behind general jing yuan’s relationship status” / “rumours confirmed: a detailed guide to the general of luofu’s relationship saga”

well at least the pictures of you and jing yuan got your good side… and your bad side, and your “i definitely did not sign up for this” side. and oh look, there’s one of you dragging jing yuan by his ponytail too, how wonderful, you’re definitely purchasing that one. 

but yeah no, you’re not beating the allegations after this. 

masterlist

[opalopium]

Little Miss- Simon Riley

And when you come home, you're gonna watch her sleeping Hold her close and stroke her face In the morning, you're gonna stare at her And wonder why you feel the way you do, now But she will hold you, and reach out to touch you And never ever hurt your heart - Bôa 

Simon was as silent as snowfall as he entered his apartment, he could tell you were there without necessarily seeing proof of your presence. He can feel it, smell it, even if it's not acknowledged that he can. His feeling is confirmed as he finds the familiar outline of your figure in his bed. Simon hated it- he should hate it. He hated people in his space and yet he doesn't feel anger, why doesn't he feel anger? He drops his things on the bedside and you don't stir, not a hair. He hated obliviousness; pitied helplessness, but he doesn't hate this either.

He eases himself onto the bed, unlacing his boots with jerky, mechanical tugs, placing them neatly at the foot of the bed before stripping down; now you choose to wake and stare at his bulk as he undresses. Simon hates when people stare, and yet the weight of your eyes on him isn't suffocating or scrutinizing. You look at him like a woman would the stars; with reverence and adoration that he had not earned. Simon did hate that.

"Hi," you say groggily,

"Sorry I'm 'ome late, doll. Didn't see yer' message." He says, turning to discard his clothes. "Makin' good use of that key, huh?" His voice is mocking, but his expression kind as he climbs in next to you.

"Yeah, sorry.... I had the worst day." You mumble, inching closer to him. He scooped a thick arm around your waist, dragging you over the sheets into his side firmly.

"Don't you apologise, woman. Gave it to ya' for a reason dinnae?" Simon couldn't hate you, for some reason beyond him. He took your face into his rough hand, one arm wrapped around your shoulder, resting on your chest, inching between your top as his palm found your heartbeat, the subtle sensation was a visceral comfort that eased his own body. He saw the exhaustion etched into your features yet you strained your neck for a kiss, for which he indulged.

"You're mine aren't ya?" his voice was warm with a fondness he reserved for the dim dark moments he shared with you. You were asleep moments ago, and you would return to sleep in minutes, perhaps his affection would be hazy and you could accredit this to your dreams so when you woke you would know not to expect it.

"Yeah, yours." You say softly, voice slurred by sleep and the pressure on your cheeks as he stroked your face with a gentle thumb, memorising the curve of your nose, the bow of your lips, the smoothness of your cheeks.

"Pretty thing you are," he appreciates absently, thumb resting on your bottom lip. "Come round' any time ya' like... I can't promise you I'll be in a mood to entertain ya though." He admits.

"Yeah?" you murmur softly, blinking up at him slowly.

"Ya don't ever mind do ya? Quite an easy girl, you." his head dips, pressing his lips to your temple. "Don't change a thing, ya' ere?" He murmurs against the skin there, staring off in thought.

"Love you" You murmur, drifting off back to sleep, none the wiser to the storm in his mind.

"There's my girl."

[thebibliosphere]

I was just playing gotham knights again and noticed some passive dialog regarding Babs having a back brace, which is at least acknowledging that there was damage done, but I'm a little sad for the loss of some really cool disability representation. What are your feelings on her (and on a similar note Batman's) miraculous recovery from paralysis in DC?

I think Gotham Knights handled her disability fairly well, considering this is a universe where magic, nanobots, and puddles of evil green goo that can heal the dead exist. All things considered, it would have been very easy for them to either erase it entirely or just handwave and say, "She worked really hard and got better," as previous iterations of the canon have done.

Because she did work hard and get better, but the hard work is ongoing because they depict her issues as chronic.

She's got a limp (it's the most obvious in her Talon suit with no cape in the way), which means she can't rely on speed or high kicks like the others can (I mean, she can kick, but it's her slowest motion, and until you max out her suit, it's the most liable to get her thrown to the ground), so she falls back on precision and her tech.

Jason punches for maximum pain, Dick moves with dizzying speed, and Tim's gonna sneak up on you and drop you like a rock, but Babs is going for the pressure points with ruthless precision. Not to mention her drones.

The conversation with Tim, realizing she might need help boosting her suit to compensate for her pain/strength issues, is a nice little way of making the player aware that she's got these ongoing problems because, honestly, a casual observer could mistake her back brace for athleisure wear if they didn't recognize the shape of it. It's also a good way of throwing in some exposition about how she's still going to physical rehab and that her PT would like her to "wean off" her back brace, but because her PT doesn't know her actual job as a vigilante, Barbara admits she can't and is essentially finding ways to manage her own care and create her own accommodations. Accommodations which they are all shown to be willing to help with.

It's a nice little touch when superhero narratives tend to revolve around self-sacrifice to the point of self-destruction. Alfred giving Dick into trouble for pushing himself too far and hiding injuries is a nice touch, too, even if it's like trying to bail water on the Titanic with a teacup.

I also like that not only do you see her wheelchair lurking around the Belfry—along with the disability adaptations they put in place, like the ramps, the wheelchair elevator, and the desks that move up and down to wheelchair height—but that she also still uses her chair from time to time.

[ID a screenshot from Gotham Knights showing the Belfry. Light streams in through a giant clockface, showcasing a bank of computer screens. In front of the screen, Barbara Gordon is using her wheelchair as Dick Grayson stands behind her, probably making a bad pun.]

Whether she's using it because she's tired or simply because it's more comfortable than the computer chair is never revealed. Nor is it brought up or commented on. It's just something that's normal for Barbara to do, and I like that. I like that it's normal. It's not a part of herself she's trying to erase. She works with it, not against it.

Is it perfect? No. Do they outright erase her disability like so many of the comics are guilty of? Also, no. I'd argue that, in fact, they kept her disability. They just changed the nature of it.

Barbara now has a dynamic disability, one which fluctuates and requires different management based on her day-to-day (or night) activity. She's in active treatment for it and will be for the rest of her life. Are some of the physical feats she achieves realistic for someone with an injury of her nature? Not really, but again, this is a world where nobody stays dead, and there are zombie assassins coming out of the walls. I'll take the attention to detail and care they put into her story any day over the "Willpower Fixed My Spine" narrative we could have gotten.

As for Bruce getting healed by magic, again, it's Batman. Comic book logic is wibbly-wobbly at the best of times, and realistically speaking, they couldn't leave Batman paralyzed. His whole deal revolves around being stealthy and punching the shit out of people. He wouldn't be Batman anymore, and frankly, I don't trust the comic writers as far as I could throw them to handle that right.

By contrast, the Gotham Knights writers handled Barbara with much more care and nuance than I ever expected. And I'm thankful for that.

---

*I also like that both Dick and Barbara are often shown wearing joint braces. Dick's are especially reminiscent of the way gymnasts and people with hypermobility tape their joints to reduce pain and prevent injuries. It's a nice little touch. They're not invincible. Their bodies hurt. They're just like me but with money and much bigger problems like giant killer robots and zombie assassins.

[foreveradreamaway]

helmets and hats- MV33/1

summary- the stress his father put on him never left his head, and neither does his helmet. only until you turn up with his lucky cap.

yes i know max won 2021, this is for the plot don’t come for me

Abu Dhabi 2021. the ride or die race for max and lewis. both of them just one race away from being the world champion. this was one of the biggest races of maxs life. this was what he had been waiting for his whole life. everything his father had put him through was for this. he could not mess this up.

but he did.

you stood in the room with all the engineers and important people who help to ensure maxs car runs perfectly throughout the entire race. you knew how much pressure max had been putting on himself in the weeks leading up to the race. spending 10 times more time at the race simulator and even more time working his body tirelessly to make sure it was race ready. you had watched hopelessly when he would do this many times before and knew this was just how he works. no protest from you will stop him, only make him work harder. he will come to you whenever he needs that little bit of comfort and reassurance, or even just a quick kiss to keep him motivated.

it was your favourite thing. knowing that he still needed you. he could be so deep in his own mind and would still seek you out. only you. he relied on you. for some things more than others, but he still did and you both knew it. he didn't always admit it, or want to, but you both knew. you were his main source of comfort and he couldn't go a day without it. he needed you in every sense of the word. he needed your love, he needed you there to remind him to pack enough socks when he goes away, he needed you to look after him when he was ill and most importantly he needed you there for the losses.

your heart drops when they cross the finish line, further than its ever dropped before. he wanted this so bad, needed it even. he had never lost a race this big before. but you were prepared, you would do the exact same as you did every other loss.

your feet carry you over to the intern whos specific job was to hold maxs hat. it was a very important hat and needed a whole person for it. you had had many interactions with the intern, retrieving his hat every time he lost. she gave you a knowing smile as you took the hat from her hands and went to meet max at you're usual spot.

he doesn't look at anyone as he exits the car and storms off. he physically cant. he doesn't even remove his helmet as he walks over to you, something you were already prepared for. his head is hung low as he approaches you, your hand immediately finding his shoulder. his feet stop in place, keeping his head down. the visor of his helmet was still all the way down so you couldn't make out the expression on his face.

he doesn't say anything as he places his hand softly over yours that sits on his shoulder. you knew not to push him at a time like this, letting him take your comfort when he needs. you stayed like that until you felt a sob rake his body. immediately wrapping your arms around his neck. his arms stayed at his side as you just held him. it wasn't often that he cried, but when he did, he did.

you weren't sure how long you stood there until his hands found your hips. you took this as your sign to move both your hands to his shoulders, finally speaking the words on your mind.

"you did so good baby" your hands moved to the sides of his helmet, attempting to lift it over his head but his hands quickly grabbed yours and brought them down in between the two of you. your face scrunching in compassion. lots of people knew what his father was like when max was younger, you more than most. the constant badgering and abuse never left his head, sticking with him throughout his life. as much as you comforted him and told him how proud you were of him, he always did the same thing after his losses. refusing to take his helmet off.

instead, you move to lift his visor up, catching a quick glimpse of his tear stained cheeks. you didn't see them for long before he quickly swiped it back down to cover his face again. your hand, once again, went back to swipe it up. his hand repeating his previous actions. smiles appeared on both your faces as you both kept up the act. his hand returning to yours when he heard a giggle escape your lips, allowing the visor to stay up. your laugh was his drug.

your head tilted to the side when you finally got to look at him. his cheeks slightly squished from the sides of his helmet and those slightly red eyes staring back at you, full of emotion.

"let me take your helmet off max" you whispered. his eyes shut as he shook his head, dropping it down again. you rested you forehead against the helmet in front of you. hands still gripping each others.

"you're safe baby, ive got you. its just me and you here." his head still didn't rise until you pressed a kiss to the top of his helmet. "im sorry" he croaked. your arms wrapped back around his neck to provide the comfort he desperately needed in that moment. the front of his helmet rested on your shoulder causing your head to tilt to the side, when it did you caught a glimpse of his oh so special hat.

you let go of one of maxs hands and leaned slightly to be able to grab the hat. as you did max slowly lifted his head up to see what you were doing and caught you with the hat in hand. a small smile appeared on his face when he noticed. it was always the small things that he loved about you. the fact that you noticed all the little things that comforted him made him feel so seen and loved in a way that he never had before.

you made eye contact with max and he gave you a small nod, approval to remove his helmet. your hands reached up to the sides of his head and slowly lifted it off. you placed it on the table where the hat had previously sat and moved back in front of max. one hand going to the back of his neck to carefully remove his under layer. you had never seen his face look sadder.

he closed his eyes and moved his head to rest between your neck and shoulder. this time you could feel the tears that were coming from his eyes. your heart breaking even more with every tear that fell.

"im so proud of you max" you whispered gently in his ear.

"i did so bad, schatje baby" his voice could barely be heard as he just felt too weak from everything. his body was filled with emotions that he didn't even know existed. the disappointment he felt was sickening and he didn't quite know how to deal with these feelings. the only thing he could do was cry in your arms.

"no way you didn't, you drove so well my love. that race was yours, it was a split second thing. there was nothing more you could have done. ive never been more proud of you than i am now max, everyone is so proud of you" you always tried your hardest to comfort him after a loss but he was stubborn and rarely actually took in what you said.

"not my dad" his voice was low, as if he didn't even want you to hear what he said. but you did. his father always loomed in the back of his mind no matter what he was doing. his fathers voice booming through his brain.

"he isn't here, no one else matters but me and you right now. im proud of you and thats all that matters. you've given this season your all, trust me i would know" a soft smile fell on your lips, max couldn't help but stare at your mouth as you talked. "you've spent countless hours in that bloody gym at home and did everything you could to make sure the best max was out on them tracks this season. i promise you max so many people will believe that you won this race and are standing behind you" his face had seemed to calm down a little now. his eyebrows no longer scrunched and his frown was slowly become flat.

his eye fell to the hat that was in your hand, your eyes doing the same. your smile got bigger as you knew what he wanted. you quickly secured the hat on its rightful place on maxs head. hats had slowly become a comfort for max. you would hardly ever see him without one, especially on race weekends. it became a shield between him and the scary eyes of the world. all he needed to do was tilt his head slightly down and he was alone and away from the chaos.

he quickly secured his lips to yours as his hands found the sides of your neck. your hands grabbing his wrists. he needed one final reassurance from you before he had to face the horrible questions of the media.

"go do what you need to do baby, call me and ill come find you. remember, im so proud of you." you placed a final kiss to his nose and cheek before he grabbed his helmet and began to make his way out the room. "you'll always be my champion max verstappen" you winked before he disappeared out the room.

he was a champion, he didnt need a trophy to prove it.

i hope you enjoyed my first max fic, many more to come. please send me requests i love hearing them

[libraryofgage]

Good Vibrations Part One

Hello, it's me, back at it again with another Steddie AU.

Anyway, if I were tagging this AU, these would be the most important ones: Deaf Steve Harrington; Tooth-rotting Fluff; Getting Together

If you wanna be tagged in future parts, just let me know!

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Steve has blown through three pairs of hearing aids in the past year. The first pair had lasted a few years and needed replacement because of normal wear and tear. The second pair was sacrificed during that fight with Jonathan. He hadn't been wearing them, but they'd been in Steve's pocket, and he'd landed at just the right angle to feel them shatter. The third pair was taken by the Russians because, despite Robin's shouting and cursing at them for being dumbasses (and this was before she actually knew what they were for), they accused him of recording their kidnapping and torture.

Honestly, he wouldn't recommend fighting Russians and Billy and Mind Flayers and driving while nearly totally deaf.

The funniest part of it all, though, is that Steve doesn't even use hearing aids regularly. He normally only wears them at home. The pair lost to Jonathan were present because, well, that whole day had been a lot for Steve, and he needed the comfort of knowing he could stop reading lips the moment it became too exhausting for him. The pair lost to the Russians was because he'd been getting ready to tell Robin about being deaf. She'd already clocked the weird things he does (well, weird to her, normal to Steve), and he figured letting her in on the big secret would bring them a little closer.

Of course, that didn't go the way he expected. Robin thought he was confessing love and decided to beat him to the punch. That's how he learned Robin is a lesbian, and Steve couldn't let her be the only one admitting to something like that, so he told her about being bi and his long-standing, hopeless crush. And being deaf. But the bi with a crush thing seemed more important in the moment. She took it in stride, it brought them closer, and then Robin asked if Steve could teach her sign language.

Which meant that Steve had to learn sign language because he never had. Between not wanting to feel even more different than he already did and trying to convince his parents that, really, everything was fine and he didn't need to go to a special school for deaf and hard-of-hearing kids, he'd never learned. Learning it had somehow felt like an admission of weakness, and that was the last thing he wanted. But he learned for Robin, and they stumbled through sign language together, creating new signs only they knew.

But that's all in the past now, and Steve is working his ass off at Family Video to afford a new pair because he refuses to ask his parents for money. If he asks them, they'll come back, and that's the last thing he wants. They don't need to have all their worries confirmed that Steve is helpless, and he doesn't want them anywhere near Hawkins "Hellscape" Indiana.

So. Working his ass off, taking extra shifts, and babysitting the kids as much as he can to make up for the whole Friends and Family Discount he gives their parents. He's exhausted, but he gets to recharge somewhat during his lunch break.

About a ten-minute walk from the Family Video is a record store, which Steve has started visiting daily to just breathe. The lone worker in the store is usually too busy listening to her own music to pay Steve any attention, letting him wander and try to determine which records will best serve him.

Steve drifts over to the rock and heavy metal section, hoping to find a new album but unsurprised when he doesn't. He browses through them anyway, moving past Metallica and Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden. He already has all of these albums on his shelf at home. He has the cassette tapes for them, too.

But he really wants something new. He likes the novelty of experiencing unfamiliar vibrations through the speaker, letting them thrum through his fingertips and into his bones. It's fun and relaxing, and after all the bullshit he's been through lately, he probably deserves something relaxing.

After glancing over a few more familiar albums, Steve sighs and glances at the counter by the door. The lone worker is standing there, headphones over her ears, and idly flipping through a magazine. She's chewing gum, and Steve braces himself for the sheer hell of trying to read her lips without making it obvious he's reading her lips while she's got something in her mouth to disrupt the normal shape of words and sounds.

But he has to try. Steve takes one more deep breath before walking over, shoving his hands into his pockets when he comes to a stop at the counter. The girl raises a hand, motioning for him to wait, so he stays quiet as she finishes reading her page. She flips to the next one before looking up, not making any move to pull her headphones off.

"Hi. Do you have any new rock or metal albums coming in soon," Steve asks, feeling the vibrations of speech in his throat and hoping his words aren't too loud.

They don't seem to be. The girl doesn't flinch or pull back. She just looks him up and down, taking in the polo shirt and the nice khakis and the Family Video vest he forgot to take off before leaving. Finally, her neck and shoulders jerk slightly, and Steve knows she's huffed in annoyance. "No," she says, the word clear enough in the shape of her lips for Steve to know it immediately.

He frowns slightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. Steve wouldn't mind just leaving now, but something keeps him there. He just...he really wants new music. He needs something new. "Are there gonna be any shows nearby?" he asks.

The girl rolls her eyes and says something, her mouth distorted by gum-chewing. Steve can barely make out the words "you" and "check" from her response. Thankfully, it's accompanied by a vague gesture at something behind him. Steve looks over his shoulder to see a bulletin board with flyers plastered across it.

"Right. Thanks," he says, nodding to her before walking over. The flyers are all different colors with various fonts that scream for Steve's attention. Some of them are for bands, some are advertisements of garage sales or instruments in need of a new home, and others are just business flyers from stores nearby.

He's seen the bulletin board before, but he's never actually paid attention to it. Steve has always been laser-focused on browsing the records. But now, Steve carefully reviews each flyer advertising shows. Some are for comedy shows, which he immediately dismisses. One seems promising, but then he sees how far it is, and Steve definitely can't do an overnight trip like that.

Finally, Steve sees a flyer advertising a show at the Hideout later that week. It's close enough that he won't be out overnight. The place is kind of seedy, but Steve figures he can find some corner near the stage to hide. Or he can bring Robin and let her help him navigate any potential social situations. He tugs the flyer off the board, gaze lingering on the "Corroded Coffin" emblazoned across the top.

He knows the band. Of course, he knows the band. He's extremely familiar with their singer. From a distance. Honestly, Eddie Munson probably doesn't have the best impression of him, but Steve's heart never really cared about that. Because Eddie is like everything Steve wants to be: he's loud and unafraid of being so, he doesn't care about his image and how others perceive him, and he looks like his laugh sounds beautiful. Steve wouldn't know if he's actually right about that last point, but Eddie throws his head back when he laughs, eyes crinkled and hand over his stomach like his muscles ache.

His mouth suddenly feels dry, but he's also filled with unprecedented courage. Steve has graduated (barely), and that means a significantly lower chance of running into Eddie during the day if watching the show somehow goes wrong.

Steve folds the flyer into quarters and stuffs it into his back pocket. He'll be overly aware of it being there until Robin starts her shift and he can show it to her, but that's okay. He throws a quick thanks over his shoulder as he leaves the shop, glancing up at the bell he can't hear that signals the door's opening. He vaguely remembers what bells are supposed to sound like (he'd heard a few before losing the ability to hear them), but he doesn't let himself dwell on it.

Instead, he focuses on the trip back to Family Video, keeping an eye on the road to watch for any cars he wouldn't notice otherwise.

----

When the final bell rings, Eddie Munson can't get out of class fast enough. He'd been packed for the last five minutes, and he slid out of his seat the moment that first peal rang out. He has a gig to prepare for, and every second counts. At least, each second counts until he notices something (or someone) that could prove entertaining for a while.

He spots Dustin alone near one of the exits, and Eddie decides to relieve the kid of his isolation. He waits until he's behind Dustin to shout, "Henderson!" and throw his arm over the kid's shoulders, ignoring the way he jumps like he'd been expecting an attack.

"Holy shit!" Dustin shrieks, jerking back to look up at Eddie. "Don't do that, man, you're gonna give me a heart attack."

Eddie snorts, waving away Dustin's concern as he continues toward the exit. The general flow of students trying to get out helps him along, and Dustin doesn't seem to realize they're actually moving until they've gotten into direct sunlight. "You're fine," Eddie says, "Anyway, whatcha doing all alone, Henderson? Lose your way?"

"No, I have...stuff to do today," Dustin says, shrugging as he blinks to acclimate to the sunlight.

Oh, yeah, way too cryptic for Eddie to not dig for more. "Stuff? What kinda stuff? Got a hot date? Going shopping with your mom?" he asks, and then he gasps dramatically and moves to stand in Dustin's way. He puts both hands on his shoulders and very seriously says, "Be honest, Henderson, you're seeing another DM, aren't you?"

Dustin stares at him for a few seconds before rolling his eyes and shrugging his hands off. "Who else in this town DMs?" he asks, "Other than Will, I guess, but he's still working on a campaign."

"Fair," Eddie concedes, "so, whatcha really doing?"

After a few seconds of getting nudged by the students around them, Dustin sighs and says, "I have chores, okay? But that doesn't sound cool to say, does it?"

Fair. Eddie nods in agreement and moves out of Dustin's way, continuing to follow him. "So, what, your mom picking you up today?" he asks.

"No, Steve."

"Oh, the famous Steve."

Dustin nods, looking over the parking lot before pointing to one end. "Yeah, he's awesome," Dustin says as Eddie follows the direction of his finger.

And standing there, leaning against the hood of his car and looking to the side where a group of trees is swaying in the breeze, is Steve Harrington. Steve "The Hair" Harrington. King Steve. The worst thing, Eddie thinks, is that Steve looks good. His hair is still perfect, of course, and his stupid little striped shirt is pulling against his biceps and riding up just enough for Eddie to see a tiny sliver of tanned skin above his jeans. He looks a little tense, but Eddie chalks that up to him being back on the campus after already graduating.

"Harrington? You've been talking about Steve Harrington this whole time?" Eddie asks, his voice a little strained, "How the fuck do you know Steve Harrington?"

"He's my babysitter," Dustin says, his voice implying that much should have been obvious, but Eddie wants to grab his shoulders and shake until his head rolls off.

Steve Harrington doesn't babysit. He doesn't know nerds that talk about D&D. He doesn't drive nerds around. At least, he never did in high school. Granted, Eddie never actually talked to Steve, but everybody knew that Steve Harrington was too cool for, well, anything that wasn't the typical jock and popular guy shit.

As he's thinking about the last time he saw Steve Harrington (in the halls, while the guy had bruises and looked worse for wear), they get within shouting distance. And Eddie has zero impulse control when Wayne isn't around, so he doesn't think before shouting, "Hey, Harrington!"

Next to him, Dustin whips his head to glare at Eddie. And Steve Harrington doesn't fucking react. He just keeps staring at that group of trees like it's the most fascinating thing in the world. "Dude," Dustin says, grabbing Eddie's arm and yanking harshly, "don't shout like that."

Eddie frowns, anger beginning to simmer in his stomach at the complete lack of acknowledgment. "Why are you upset with me?" he asks, gesturing at Steve as he continues, "I'm not the one being a douchebag here."

Dustin opens his mouth, about to say something, only to snap it shut once more. He frowns like he's just realized he can't say something, and huffs with frustration. "Just...just don't do that," he finally says, keeping a hand on Eddie's arm and dragging him across the parking lot. And, yeah, something is definitely weird here.

Instead of just walking up to Steve, they make a large arch until they're within Steve's line of sight.

Eddie watches as Steve notices them, seeing Dustin first and pushing off the car. He relaxes for a split second until he sees Eddie and his shoulders tense again.

Great.

Once they're close enough for Eddie to count the moles above the collar of Steve's shirt, Dustin grins and says, "Hey, Steve." But it's odd, because Eddie has never heard Dustin talk this slow or this carefully, like he's doing his best to enunciate his words.

Steve flashes a grin and ruffles Dustin's hair. "Hey, twerp, you're late," he says. He then glances at Eddie, his grin becoming a little smaller, and says, "Hey, Munson."

Wait. Steve Harrington knows Eddie's name? And he called him by it? He said Munson, not Freak. Eddie stares at Steve for a few seconds before nodding. "Harrington," he says, "how the fuck did you become a babysitter?"

Is he just imagining things, or is Steve looking at his mouth? Like, really intensely. He's definitely not, because Steve looks up after a few seconds with a raised eyebrow. "I needed some extra cash. Also, don't swear around Dustin. I'm the one who gets in trouble when he curses in front of his mom."

Something about the words makes Eddie grin. Never in a million years would he have guessed that he'd be talking to Steve Harrington. And he would have laughed you into Mordor itself if you suggested their conversation would be about Dustin Henderson swearing in front of his mother. "What's his mom do when he swears?" he asks.

Because he can feel the conversation veering into something potentially embarrassing for him, Dustin lets go of Eddie and starts pushing Steve toward the driver's side of his car. "Okay, we gotta go. So many chores, so little time," he says, his voice back to that normal speed and enunciation.

Steve frowns slightly, looking down at Dustin and tilting his head just slightly. "What?" he asks. Instead of actually answering, Dustin just makes some vague gesture with his hand and looks at the car. "Oh, right. Go ahead and get in the car. And, uh, see you later, Munson."

"Is that a promise?" Eddie asks before he can think better of it.

Steve pauses, looking at Eddie's mouth with a slight scrunch to his nose. He seems to be considering something as Dustin scrambles into the passenger seat, watching them with narrowed eyes. Honestly, Eddie is surprised he's not blasting the horn to hurry Steve up. Finally, Steve comes to a decision and meets Eddie's eyes again. "Your band has a show tonight, right? At the Hideout? I was planning to go. So, yeah, I'll see you then, I guess."

And with that, like he hasn't just fucking rocked Eddie's world, Steve Harrington gets into his car. He makes sure Dustin is buckled before waving at Eddie and pulling out of the parking spot.

Eddie finds himself waving back, staring dumbly at the car as it pulls onto the street. It only hits him a few seconds later that Steve Harrington is coming to his show. At the Hideout. His metal show. A Corroded Coffin gig at the Hideout.

Holy. Shit.

[ddejavvu]

wait your new hotch blurb got me thinking what about they got secretly married and everyone knows that hotch is married they just don’t know it’s to bau!reader because he seemed very genuine in the wanting privacy so (after complaining) they respected that, and maybe one of the team members sees hotch and bau!reader kissing in the hallway of a hotel or something and confront him about cheating on his wife

"How could you cheat on your wife?"

Penelope's harsh, degrading accusation hits Aaron directly in the chest, through the layers of stoicism that he's come to forge over the years of working in criminal investigation and straight to his heart.

All Hotch can manage is a, "What?", and Penelope's eyes dim further.

"Don't do that, Hotch. I saw you. I saw you and Y/N kissing in your office. How could you do that to your wife?"

She looks so crestfallen that Aaron's chest actually aches, so unprepared to see the famously bubbly Penelope Garcia close to tears. Close to tears because of him, no less.

Aaron might have chosen his words more carefully if he hadn't been so startled by Penelope's unusual devastation, but his jumbled brain forgoes its job and his mouth takes over, uttering the thoughtless statement, "That's- that's what she's there for."

And in his mind, it's true, if not the complete truth. You are there for him to kiss, you're there to be kissed and loved and appreciated and cherished, but he's momentarily forgotten that Penelope doesn't know that you and his mystery wife are the same person, and his words so easily warp into possessiveness and disregard.

Her face contorts into a mixture of disgust and rage that could take out a serial killer, and he seriously considers recruiting her as Chief Lecturer of the BAU, "Hotch? How- how could you say that? That your wife is just- just some thing to wait on you while you run off with someone else? You- Aaron, I can't believe you, I thought you were better than that!"

She tries storming away, tears budding in her eyes but Aaron catches her elbow, ignoring the way she flails and squirms at his touch.

"Let go of me!" She tearily demands, but he grabs her by the other arm now, holding both of her shoulders.

"No, Penelope, listen-" He tries, reminding himself to send her to Derek later for a self-defense lesson, because the weak shoves that she's pushing at his chest with do very little.

"No! No, I'm tired of listening to men," She shrieks, "You were supposed to be better than that, Aaron! I trusted you, you were supposed to be the kind of man that I could admire, and- but you're not! You're just like the rest of them, you're some egotistical, possessive, heavy-handed, domineering son of a-!"

"Y/N is my wife." Aaron cuts her off, his voice slightly raised, but not harsh. Never harsh, not to the sniffling mess of ruffles and glitter in his arms that handed him her resume on pink stationary all those years ago.

She falls silent, finally, but her lips still tremble. Aaron squeezes her arms tighter, not rough but comforting, "Y/N is my wife. We married privately late last year. We kept it secret for safety reasons, but I'll admit we didn't need to hide it from all of you. I was not cheating on my wife, I would never-" He thinks momentarily of Haley, of the gut-wrenching sound of her cell phone ringing with a call she wasn't brave enough to answer in front of him, "I would never do that to Y/N."

It's a lot of new information to process, and Aaron grants Penelope all the time she needs to work through it. When her red-stained lips part again she breathes, "You married Y/N?"

"I did." Aaron nods, and though it's not the time to smile, he can't help that a ghostly one flits over his features at the mere thought of the day he'd married you, "I'll show you pictures when we're done here. Penelope, you can trust me. I don't blame you for accusing me- in fact, I'm glad that you did. I'm glad that your loyalty isn't blind. But Y/N is my wife, and that's why I kissed her."

A very wobbly, "Oh." Is all that Penelope can manage, and she sniffles again, staring at his tie rather than his face as he holds her steady in the hallway. He's glad that they've both shown up early for the day, but you're due to return with coffee for the three of you any minute now, and he offers her his pocket square to wipe beneath her eyes.

"You said-" She chokes out sheepishly, voice unsteady as she smears the tears off of her cheeks, "You said you have pictures?"

That's how you find them when you return, seated on the couch in his office peering down at his phone. You have to set the tray you'd been carrying down on Aaron's desktop before you can properly greet either of them, but you're immediately alarmed by the tears streaked over Garcia's cheeks when she stands to face you.

"You-" She starts, not giving you a second to speak, "-are a rat! You got married," She gushes, and Aaron chuckles deeply from beside her, standing and pocketing his phone.

"You got married to our boss, and you told me nothing," She hisses, but slumps so easily into your chest for a hug that you're more than willing to give her.

"I'm sorry, Penny," You gush, squeezing her tight, "We just- we were worried about safety. The more people we told, the more dangerous it would become, so we didn't share it with anyone. But- but we should have told the team, I know."

She sniffles and you draw back to pick up her drink from behind you, sugary and pink and topped with a thick layer of whipped cream, "I got you a drink. Forgive me?"

"Reluctantly," She tries scowling, but she's never been very good at it. She takes the drink from you huffily, jamming the straw inside and taking a drag at the thick liquid. It's barely nine in the morning, far too early for the concoction she's sipping, but she nods after she draws back from the straw.

"This is delicious," She decides, "And you two are traitors, and I'm telling everyone about this."

"You should," Aaron laughs, stepping up behind you to press his shoulder to your own. It's comforting just having him there, and you relax against him as Penelope takes her leave.

"I mean it," She warns, wiping another stray tear from her cheek and sipping at her strawberry drink, "I'm telling everyone. I'm- I'm gonna hire some guy to fly a plane over the city, and the banner is gonna say, 'Y//N Y/L/N and Aaron Hotchner got married without me'."

"That's fair," You nod, not bothering to bite back a grin as she lingers in the doorway of Aaron's office.

"And so help me god," She narrows her eyes at you, once more falling just short of intimidating, "If you try to take some extended-sick-leave time, and I find out you're hiding a pregnancy from me? No amount of frappuccinos in the world will make up for it!"

"Noted," You call out as she leaves, and Aaron's hand comes up to press against the near-indiscernible bulge of your belly before the door even clicks shut.

"She's good." Aaron observes, and you reach for your own non-caffeinated drink with a grin that's hard to drink through.

"Let's tell her about the baby at lunch," You propose, "I think she's more than earned a secret to keep."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Reader being Jason or Dick's girlfriend, who doesn't know about their double life, casually blurting out that she was never a fan of Batman and Robin or that she prefers Superman and the whole family is offended. 😭

I was tired and failed to realises that this came out a bit like a crack fic in the end but I’m sure you won’t mind…hopefully.

Jason: honestly has too much fun shit talking Bruce to you, especially when you didn’t know the man that you were shit talking as well as he did.

He just found it funny hearing you say with your full chest in front of his family that you prefer the Man of Steel over the Dark Knight.

It sends his entire family in disarray and chaos and Jason was thriving off of it immensely. He does not help the situation at all and would wholeheartedly make things worse for the sake of having something to talk about later.

Dick was borderline catatonic as Duke and Steph were trying to bring him back to reality.

Alfred excused himself from the room.

Damian was sharpening his dinner knife. Menacingly.

Meanwhile Tim was pulling up a long winded power point presentation about how statistically Batman was better than Superman. (In every possibly way, you’re just hating.)

That’s literally the title of his presentation.

‘Did he have this prepared in his free time or?’ You’d ask Jason who shrugs.

‘Let the boy have hobbies peanut, it’s not like he’s got anything better going for him right now.’ He replies, thinking that he should start coming to family dinners more if this was the end result.

Bruce might’ve looked the calmest out of everyone but internally he was cursing out Clark for stealing his future in law. He knew preferences exists and didn’t hold it against you, but currently he was in a disagreement with Clark over a recent mission and it had become a thing where the entire family didn’t dare speak or utter Clark/Superman’s name during this sensitive period.

Once Dick comes back to the land of the living, he’s practically hanging off of you screaming, ‘WHY?!’

Jason has to get involved and remove his brother off of you before he potentially scared you away from future family dinners, even though he himself barely attends any, but the moment you entered his life he wanted you to be more involved with the people in his life that cares about; whether he’d like to admit it or not.

‘They don’t hate me do they?’ You asked Jason by the end of the night, genuinely worried that his family might not like you after tonight.

Jason, noticing this, grabs your hands and grips them tightly in his and gives you a reassuring smile. ‘Babe I’m sure as shit they like you, I mean I’ve never seen them react like that before and if they didn’t like you, they would let you know immediately.’ He tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. ‘Besides, weren’t not a vocal bunch when it comes to our emotions. So seeing them get all up in arms over you preferring Superman and trying to persuade you into thinking otherwise was a highlight for me.’

‘Really you think so?’ You leant into him, still not fully convinced and needing his comfort more than anything.

‘Oh yeah. I’m for certain chipmunk. I think I even heard Bruce curse Clark under his breath once or twice.’ He tells you, pressing a kiss to your head as he holds you close.

‘But why? It’s not like they work with Batman, right?’ Your curious words caused Jason to stiffen and his breath to hitch as he tried to find the words before blurting out the first thing that came to his head. ‘No, they’re just…really devoted fans of Batman and Robin. So you could say that preferring Superman over them is a personal insult to them.’ He said, hoping you’d buy the lie, he genuinely didn’t want to subject you to the whole vigilantism so early on in your relationship.

Thankfully you did take the bait as you muttered into his shoulder, ‘okay, I hope they know I meant no offence but it.’ Jason let’s our a laugh, holding you closer to him as he closes his eyes to savour your bodily warmth against him. ‘I’m sure they do sweetheart, they’re the smartest people I know and they wouldn’t let something silly this affect our relationship.’ He said softly. ‘Now let’s go home and cuddle up in bed together yeah?’

‘That sounds like a great idea.’ You replied.

Dick: pouty baby.

What do you mean you don’t like Batman and Robin?! What did Superman have that he didn’t?!

For as far as Dick was concerned he has the fatter ass between him and Clark. He’s done the research.

He’s leaning all of his weight into you and says under his breath. ‘Why does my love betray me so.’ Meanwhile you’re looking at his confused as to why he’s acting as if you’ve just destroyed his lively hood with a single sentence.

Duke and Steph were patting Dick on the shoulder, sharing their sympathies with the revelation made at the dinner table.

Alfred left the room…again. First Jason’s partner, now Dick’s? What a coincidence.

Jason immeditly calls you his favourite and talks about how you and his partner -who also prefers Superman- would get along great while shit talks Batman simultaneously, almost as though he has a personal gripe with him or something.

Damian is sharpening his dinner knife…again but even more menacingly.

And Tim was back on the PowerPoint presentation where he goes into excruciating depths as to why Batman was statistically better the Superman.

The family is once again dissolved into chaos and Bruce was sat at the head of the table, calm, cool and collected but internally cursing Clark out once again for stealing another potential future in law.

(Clark has sneezed approximately twice at this rate and was taking every test to make sure he wasn’t coming down with anything serious)

After all was said and done and you were getting ready for bed, you asked the question that had been on your mind the entire night; ‘Your family doesn’t hate me, do they?’

Dick chuckled as he held you against his chest. ‘No, they love you enough to almost start a war over the fact that you like Superman over Batman and they’re not exactly the most in tune with their emotions. So seeing them react the way that they did? Only proves that they do like you cutie.’ He says as he gives you a peck on the lips.

You pouted. ‘But why does it feel like I just attached their lively hoods? It’s not like they know Batman or Robin personally or work with them in any capacity.’

Dick froze, he -much like Jason- didn’t want to subject you with the whole vigilante thing just yet, he didn’t want to scare you off so soon into the relationship in fear of scaring you away forever. ‘Devoted fans act like that whenever you tell them that you don’t like the same person as them.’ Dick replied, rubbing his hand up and down your back. ‘It’s an issue that should be regulated and or addressed at least.’

You hummed in agreement. ‘Well besides that, I like yours family, they all look like great people to know that have your back when you’re in a tough situation.’ You say as you kissed the side of his neck, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, feeling sleepy.

‘They really are.’ Dick replied softly. ‘They really are.’

[queers-gambit]

Two to Tango

prompt: the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.

pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

collection masterlist: Clingy Baby

word count: 5.4k+

note: author still does not want any messages about glorifying toxic relationships. typically, but not always, when someone calls you clingy, it's weaponized and is abusive. this fic is not meant to portray that! it’s meant to show internal agony and the journey to forgiveness - Carmy apologizes 'cause he's actually sorry!

warnings: cursing, reader folds 'cause who wouldn't for the sweet puppy that is Carmy, hurt and comfort, small angst, small fluff, we talk about Mikey a bit, author uses writing as therapy, relationship angst...? barely edited.

part one: God's Plan

"It's six in the Goddamn morning!" You raged at your front door, stomping up to it, "Are you dumb in the fucking head!? Who the fuck in their right mind knocks like the Goddamn cops at six in the fucking morning!?"

You whipped it open, the force causing a breeze of air to blow your bedridden hair back and highlight your exhaustion. "Hiya, sunshine," Richie beamed down at you, holding up a paper bag, offering, "donut?"

"Richie!? I know you're not fuckin' stupid, baby boy, so, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's six in the morning on my day off - do you want to give me a reason to punch you? You hate your nose that much?"

He tisked at you mockingly, "Someone's cranky this morning."

"What do you want?"

"You're not gonna invite me in for coffee? I brought us donuts! See? C'mon, Peach," He jostled the bag around with a shit-eating, closed-lip smile. "Dooonuts," he taunted.

You had to pause, count to ten in your head, then sigh through your nose. You offered kindly, "Richie? Would you like to come in for some coffee? Since you kindly brought donuts?"

He grinned, "Awwh, thanks, Peach, thats real nice of yah! Don't mind if I do!"

"Don't call me that," you snapped, leading him into your kitchen. The door shut and locked.

"Oh, someone's touchy."

"What do you fucking want?" You whined, pouring two mugs of hot coffee. "You come bangin' at my door, early ass in the mornin'. You better have a good-ass reason," you slid the mug over the counter he sat at. "Cream or sugar?"

He shook his head, fiddling with the mug for a moment before admitting as you dressed up your own coffee, "Uh, so... It's Carmy."

You paused, taking a slow sip from your mug, waiting for more that wouldn't come. So, you quietly asked, "What about Carmy?"

"He's falling apart."

"O...Kay?"

"Peach," he frowned, "you know that your relationship was the only thing that made sense to him - he's falling apart without you there."

"Okay," you nodded, taking another swallow of hot bean-water.

"That's it? Nothing else to say? Dude's losin' his fuckin' shit, Peach. Okay? Barely leaves the restaurant, h-he's all manic and shit, doesn't stop cookin', isn't gettin' a lotta sleep, and Syd said his clothes are all over the apartment - he's not keeping himself in order."

"So, he needs his mother?"

Richie glared with a clenched jaw, "Not fuckin' funny, Peach."

"I'm not laughing."

"He needs you."

"I'd argue otherwise, he's a grown fuckin' man who doesn't need to be taken care of. Look, if he was man enough to call me a desperate, clingy bitch, he's man enough to deal with the fallout of his words."

"Look, hey, hey, hey, I'm not sayin' he's not in the wrong," he waved his hands, eyes widening, "actually, the exact opposite. We all chewed his ass out when we found out what he fuckin' said, Peach. And look, I've never seen Fak that fuckin' angry."

You semi-pouted your bottom lip, "Really?"

"Fak was ready to strangle Carmy, I think," Richie sighed. "I yelled, Sugar yelled, Fak lost his shit, Syd even cornered him in the office and laid into him..."

"I thought she didn't like me," you whispered.

"She's getting to know you, but she likes you," he assured, "and it's obvious the affect you have on Carmy. We all respect that - "

"Oh, great, so everyone except the one person who needs to respect our relationship - respects it!"

Richie frowned at you, nodding in agreement before admitting, "He's a dumb fuckin' idiot, Peach, we all know that, but the dude is losing it without you."

"Sucks to suck."

"Peach," he groaned, slapping his hands to the counter with exasperation. "Don't you love him?"

"Of course I love him, but I also have this little thing called self-respect! He said some shit - shit he can't ever take back. The fuck I look like going back to him when he's the one in the wrong!? I don't hate myself that much, and despite what he says, I'm not that desperate for love."

"How is talking to the man you love - "

"Richie," you paused him, "your Cousin said a lot of hurtful shit. It's been weeks, okay? He's gonna snap outta it, realize what he's done, and right the wrongs he's committed. I don't need to speed that along in any way, shape, or form - he's a grown man. And I'm a grown woman, I don't have to fall to anyone's beck-and-call, he can figure his own shit out."

"I know - look, it's been fuckin' weeks of us dealin' with him losin' his fuckin' mind!" Richie snapped. "We tried to respect that you wanted distance and time, we really did, but he's losin' it, Peach, more than he's lost it before. Okay? I'm concerned about him, more than I was when the shit with Mikey went down..."

You sighed and leaned on your kitchen counter, wiping your fingers over your eyes to pinch the bridge of your nose after. "Okay, okay," you paused, sighing again, blinking as you looked at Richie, "so, what would you like me to do?"

He pouted dramatically, "Talk to him? Please?"

"To say... What?"

"I don't know, you guys can work that out together, but he's miserable, Peach. Just talk to him, just..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I know it's not fair to ask of you, but he's slippin' off the deep end. You're all he knows, all that makes sense to him, and with you gone..." His eyes turned red as he held back his tears, "I-I'm not sayin' he's gonna do anythin', Peach, but everythin' with Mikey's still so fresh... I just - I can't go through this again. Can't lose another Berzatto."

You frowned, understanding now why he appeared so frazzled.

"Carmy's not Mikey, Richie, okay?" You reminded him softly, reaching for his hand; leaving your extended to reach him, "And you're not gonna lose any more of us, you hear me?" You gave a squeeze, "I'll talk to him."

"Really?"

"I will," you assured softly, seeing the single tear drop from his waterline when he bowed his head and sniffled harshly. "Hey, Richie...? Do you, maybe, wanna bring some flowers to Mikey today? Think you wanna visit?"

He shrugged, "Maybe..."

"Maybe it'll be nice," you assured calmly. "It rained a few days ago, so, the ground won't be too soggy anymore, but the grass will be lush and green - hydrated and shit."

"Right," he chuckled, nodding, "yeah, okay, maybe that'll be nice, yeah, you're right."

"Maybe Carmy could use a visit, too."

"He won't go."

You nodded, "I know, but sometimes it's nice to just have the offer."

Richie agreed, downing the last of his black coffee. "All right," he cleared his throat, "let's go - you wearin' that?"

"What?"

"You gonna wear that? To go talk to Carmy?"

"It's not even seven in the morning!"

"He's at the restaurant," Richie shrugged. "Dude doesn't leave. C'mon, he needs a nap or somethin'."

You groaned, knowing he wouldn't leave unless you left with him. So, you got ready quickly while he sat at your desktop computer; playing Facebook's FarmVille - the same you left your little cousins to play when they needed distracted. He was enraptured by the adorable virtual sheep, laughing to himself as he learned the ropes of the game; and when you were ready, you had time to fill a to-go tumbler of coffee while he signed off.

When you arrived at The Beef, it was still closed for the morning prep; and inside, chaos rained in a fury of angry voices. You listened to Carmy snap at Marcus about something petty, going as far as to slap a pastry out of his hand as they argued in one another's faces with ignited passion.

"Ooookay," you moved through the kitchen and got between the two men, hands on Carmy's chest, "that's enough, Chef, hey, hey, hey, c'mon, walk away - just walk away, Carmy, don't do this. Hey, hey, don't do this, c'mon, just step off - walk away with me, please. Please, Carmy, hey, hey, step off, walk away with me, please."

"Fuck you doin' here, Peach?" He asked with red, swollen eyes. He looked sullen; pale between the angry red blotches to his skin, bags under his tired eyes, looking worn out and thinner than you remembered.

"Yeah, hey, hey, we'll talk about that, c'mon, outside, outside, outside," you directed him, sighing at the sight of the splattered pastry you were forced to step over. "I'm so sorry, Marcus," you whispered, seeing him nod and wave you off as you and Carmy pushed outside into the alley.

The door shut behind you, making Carmy snarl, "What the fuck, Peach - "

"No, I think that's better asked to you," you snapped. "The hell's wrong with you? Yellin' at Marcus like that? You know how rude it is to slap shit outta anyone's hand?"

He paced in anger, wiping a hand down his face; circling his mouth with his fingers, eyes ringed with red, hair greasy and tossed in a mess. His pants looked baggy, his shirt wrinkled, stained, and dirty with sweat marks.

"What're you doin' here?" He asked in a pant, hands going to his slender hips, head shaking as his tear-filled eyes avoided yours.

"Carmy, we need to talk."

"No shit," he breathed, scoffing after and widening his pace.

"Hey, Carmy, hey, hey," you reached for him, taking both his wrists in your grasp so he had to face you. "I need you to pause for me, please, hey," you stepped in his way when he tried to move. "Carmy, you're no good to anyone when you're like this - least of all yourself. So, I need you to talk - "

"You left," he panicked, pulling back to start pacing again. "You left - you left me. We got in a fight and you left, you fucking left. You walked away and you left me."

"Carmy, we got in more than a fight," you sighed. "You lashed out at me, then turned avoidant, and I don't linger where I'm not wanted."

"How can you think that?" He demanded, still pacing. "That you're not wanted by me? That you're not welcome, what? In my life? At my side? With me? Baby - of course, you are!"

"You didn't exactly make me feel any different," you pointed out sharply. "Carmy, can you please fucking pause for me so we can talk this out - "

"I know I fucked up," he ranted to himself, huffing and puffing as his emotion strangled him. "I know I did, I kept - I couldn't - I fucked up. I know I did. I couldn't get my head outta my ass," he listed, pacing as he panted when panic took hold of his being, "and I hurt you, and it was like I had to keep hurting you because I couldn't be alone in what I felt and I couldn't exactly figure out what the fuck I was feeling - I just needed you to hurt, too."

"Carmy," you sighed patiently.

"And I couldn't stop, I just kept going, and when I realized how bad I made it, I couldn't fucking stop - I needed y-yo-you t-to know what I felt, but I couldn't find the words. I-I hate that I did that, I-I fucking hurt you and I made this so much worse than it ever had t-to be, and I fucking know, Peach, okay? I know you're not clingy, you were just loving me. Y-You were loving me, you were using your own love languages, and I felt y-you so fuckin' close to me, and freaked out - I just - I just don't know why. I just - I panicked, I couldn't stop whatever I felt, and I'm so sorry," he breathed, shaking his head, wiping his cheeks as the tears started. "I-I-I'm so sorry, Peach, I couldn't control myself and I-I hate that I hurt you, and I know I don't deserve your understanding, but I just - I couldn't stop - "

"Carmy," you stepped directly in his footpath; needing to seize hold of his swollen biceps to catch his movements as he all but barreled right into you, "I need you to breathe."

"Nah, I'm okay - "

"No, you're not," you spoke sternly, shaking your head. "Baby," you eased your tone to a softer tone, seeing a glimmer of hope spark in his baby blues, "I need you to take a breath and remain in the present with me, okay? Just stand here with me," you watched as he blinked a couple of times; reaching out to hold your waist tentatively. "And stay in the present, okay? Stay here with me."

"I'm so sorry, Peach," he whispered, stepping closer so he could feel your breasts against his chest; caging you with his arms. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, I didn't - I didn't know what the fuck I was even trying to fight with you about. You're not clingy - you're not any of the things I said, I didn't mean it - any of it."

"Calling me desperate?"

"I didn't mean any of it."

"A bitch?"

"Please," he whispered, bringing you in closer so he could rest his forehead on yours. "Don't repeat it, I know what I said, and I'm so fucking sorry for all of it. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm goin' crazy without yah, Peach. I need my best girl, and I don't deserve you, but I fuckin' need you." He sniffled, pulling back to caress your cheek, whispering, "I need you, Peach, you're the only thing that I know - the only thing I can understand, that makes sense to me. I think I just felt stressed and overwhelmed, I wasn't sure what to do - I couldn't find the words, I'm so sorry."

You nodded slowly, "I think we can work through this."

"I don't deserve you."

"Maybe not, but you have me anyway," you whispered, bringing his forehead to your own again. "But you can't do this again, taking anger out on me when I haven't done anything."

"Never again," he sighed, now nestling into your neck for comfort; arms tightening so you were the closest you could be with your head bent to keep his head caressed with yours.

"I don't think we can say 'never', but we can make an effort to leave work stress at work, right?" You whispered softly, letting one around coil around him to keep him close; the other caressing his jaw. "You don't get to treat me like that," you reminded him, "because I'm on your side, Carmy, I'm not the enemy."

"I know," he squeezed you tight.

"And the people doing their jobs are not the enemy," you smirked.

"I know," he chuckled lightly. "I owe Marcus an apology..."

"I'm sure you owe it to the others, too," you mused, holding his cheek as you turned your head to kiss his forehead. "Promise me we're done with that reactive bullshit. It doesn't make navigating a relationship easier on us."

"We're done, we're so fuckin' done with that shit," he whispered, deflating into your embrace as you held him close. "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am."

"I know," you comforted softly. "I forgive you."

"I don't deserve it."

"Hey, hey, this self-deprecating stunt has to end, too. We've gotta go forward with at least some confidence if we're gonna figure this out together."

He nodded, pulling back but keeping hold of your waist. "I am confident about this... About you - about us."

"Hmm?" You gently pushed a few stray curls from his forehead.

"Move in with me - officially."

Your face contorted in mild disappointment, "Oh, Carmen - "

"No, no," he rushed, sighing as his hand flattened on your jaw and cheek again, "just listen to me. I've wanted to ask you for a long time, okay? I've wanted this for - like - fucking years. Hear me? I just," he sighed, "I wasn't sure how to ask. I want this for us, I want us to be together, okay? Officially. I-I want us living together, Peach, okay? I want to come home and just - I want you there. I want all of you," he frowned, tears swelling again, "and all your shoes in the foyer, hair in the shower drain, perfume on the counter, and every-single-way you know how to love me. I was wrong to say you were clingy - and everything else I said. Baby, the last couple weeks, I've felt so fucking empty, so lonely and - just - cold. I've been cold without you. I need you, Peach, I need you with me, and I need you to be exactly you - no holding back. Because you're exactly who I need to love me, I'm so sorry I fucked that up before."

"Carmy."

He frowned, "I'm sorry."

"I know," you smirked, "and I forgive you. But you know it's gonna take more than a few pretty words and some tears, right?"

He nodded, "Anything to make this work again."

You sighed in patience, "Go say your apologies to the others, we've got t'make a stop before going back to yours - and you're going to take a fucking nap."

"I'm fine - "

"Look me in my eye and try to tell me in the past 72 hours, you've had decent, restful sleep."

He frowned, opening his mouth a few times but then sighing. "You know I can't," he whispered.

"Exactly why we're going back to yours."

Carmy paused, brows furrowing as if a thread pulled them together. He asked softly, "Is that a no to us... Living together? Is that why you're calling it 'my' place?"

You offered him a look of patience and leaned in to peck his lips for a few prolonged seconds, promising, "There's your apartment, there's my apartment, and then there's gonna be our apartment. Somewhere that's just ours, 100% us." His mouth stretched in a grin, so you swiftly cut him off, "But you have to ask me again when you've got restful sleep under your belt. I want you clear headed when you make this kinda decision."

"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "Where're we goin' before?"

You swallowed nervously, telling him softly, "You absolutely do not have to go with us, but I think Richie could use a visit out to Mikey's grave. I said I'd take him with some flowers, but you do not have to get out to go with us - not if you're not ready."

He blinked a few times, rolling his lips between his teeth as his eyes dropped from yours. You were about to coo his name and assure him again, when he nodded at you and tried to half-smile. "Okay," he breathed.

"Okay?"

"Mhm. I'll, uh... M-Maybe I can, just, hang back in the car."

"Sure, baby, whatever you're comfortable with," you whispered, leaning in to peck his forehead. "You good?"

"I will be."

"Mhm," you hummed, caressing his cheek again before pushing your hand into his curls. "Now, let's get a move on - I want you to march in there, say you're sorry to your Chefs, and then we'll leave."

"Yes, ma'am," Carmy whispered, leaning in to kiss you - but you pulled back.

"Aht," you halted him with a teasing finger to his lips, "after we've got everything worked out, then you can kiss me."

"You got t'kiss me," he mumbled against your finger; making you hum as you fought off a stretching smile, and lower your hand.

"Fair point - just one then - "

He cut you off by, indeed, pressing a single kiss to your lips, but not pulling back. His hand raised to hold the back of your head, your lips spreading in a grin against his; finding rhythm to move together before pausing to press in prolonged passion.

When he pulled back, you both paused to smile, and when you tried to peck his lips again, he pulled back, teasing, "Aht, just the one."

"Oh, fuck you," you laughed lightly, letting him take your hand before leading you back into the kitchen. The other Chefs lingered, sparing you and Carmy a few nervous glances, making you whisper in his ear as you squeezed his hand, "Go ahead, baby, get it done."

He nodded and called the kitchen to attention, clearing his throat, and beginning to make his apologies. He singled out Marcus, then Sydney, Richie, and Sugar; the kitchen staff all accepting his words and insisting he could take the day off - even the next few days if he wanted! You had to usher him to grab his things a few times, nudging him in reminder and verbally pushing him back into action. That boy's ADHD would truly be the death of him.

"So?" Richie smirked at you as Marcus handed you a packaged box of pastries.

"We're talking it out."

He chuckled, "Good. Get him outta here, Peach, dude needs to breathe."

"I got it," you swatted him away as Carmy exited the office. "But we've got somewhere to be first, right?"

He paused, then nodded and asked in a mutter, "He said okay?"

"He's got time to decide what he wants to do, but he knows we're going. C'mon, get your coat."

Richie met you at the front of the restaurant and with a parting wink to Sugar, you took Carmy's hand, tangled your fingers together, and left to venture to your parked car. Carmy got in the front, Richie in the back, and after a stop at a corner bodega to grab three bouquets of flowers, you drove to the cemetery. Carmy was silent, no music played, and Richie's leg bounced in anxious tension; making small conversation with you about your job in an effort to distract himself.

When you arrived, you pulled up on the access road that you knew was closest to Mikey's grave. Richie spared a glare between you and Carmy before muttering that he needed a cigarette and got out of the car to leave you alone. "Baby?" You whispered, reaching for his hand. "Hey, look, if you don't want to go with us, it's okay. We won't be long... But maybe you want to sign this," you showed him the small, blank name card left in the flowers.

"Why?" He whispered.

You shrugged, "So he knows they're from you."

"Peach," he sighed, meeting your eyes.

"Baby, I know it's silly, I know it's easier to ignore it all. But I'd like to believe it's just a nice gesture for our own closure - it's a signed gift from us, to them... And maybe it's nice to pretend that wherever they are, they know what we've left for them."

Carmy nodded slowly, "I-I don't think... I don't think I can go..."

"It's okay, baby," you whispered.

"But," he sniffled, opening his hand to you, "I'll sign it, if you'll leave it for me?"

"Of course," you rushed, opening your purse to producing a pen for him. The clank card rest on the center console of your car, pausing, swallowing nervously, then scribbling his name as he cleared his throat. He offered you the pen, waited until it was put away, then offered the flowers. "Hang tight, we won't be too long," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead. "You okay?"

He nodded, pecking your forehead before letting you get out of the car. You handed Richie his own flowers with a signed card, holding your own and Carmy's; linking arms with Rich to venture up the small grass hill and moved about halfway down the cemetery plot line. When you came to his stone, you understood this was what Rich needed more than you, so, you knelt and laid the two bouquets down before starting to quickly groom the area around his tombstone.

You told him, "I'm sorry it's not much, but I'll be back later for a picnic and a chat. I brought you flowers from me a-and from Carmy. He's in the car, but he's here, Mikey... Give him time," you whispered, brushing dirt from the stone before standing. "Take your time," you told Richie softly, seeing the tears gather in his eyes.

"Thanks, Peach," he whispered, offering you a tight hug. When you pulled back and started to walk away, Richie lowered himself to kneel and lay his own flowers down; hearing him tell Mikey, "Don't gotta worry 'bout us, Mike-Man, Peach is the glue that keeps us together. Shit, she even got Carmy out here..."

You made it back to the car and got in, smiling at Carmy - but dropping it the instant you saw tears in his eyes. "Talk to me," you whispered, reaching for a wet wipe in your glovebox to clean your hands after plucking the grass and brushing off dirt from the grave.

"Why can't I get out?"

You only stared at him for a long moment, unsure what to say.

"I'm here... I'm finally here... Why can't I get out?"

"You're not ready," you nodded, tossing the wipe aside to a plastic bag. "It's okay, Carmy, it's okay to not be ready yet. We can come back when you are," you reached for his hand.

"I think this added to my frustration," he admitted. "I couldn't... I didn't go to the funeral, haven't been here since he was... You know."

"Laid to rest."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Fuck's wrong with me?"

"You're grieving," you relented, nuzzling closer so your head rested on his shoulder. "It's not linear, Carmy, baby, just let yourself feel. When you try to repress your emotions, you lash out inappropriately."

"I know," he whispered, "'M sorry."

"It's not your fault," you promised, the two of you quietly bowing your heads together. You remained as such until Richie got back in the car, and from there, it was quiet as everyone stewed in their own emotion. You dropped Rich back at work before promising to call him later and driving away; heading for Carmy's apartment in the soothing silence, his hand locked in yours.

When you arrived at his apartment, you froze upon seeing the interior's state. "Oh, Carmy, no," you whispered, frowning deeply.

"Looks worse than it is," he deflected. You only hummed and let him lead you to the bedroom; watching him strip and prepare for bed before joining you on the mattress. He crashed almost immediately, sighing in relief as he pecked over your shoulder and collarbone, muttering, "'M so glad you're back. 'M so sorry, Peach."

"I know you are, and I forgive you," you told him softly, carding a manicured hand through his hair. "Just get some rest, baby."

He was asleep nearly instantly. He deflated on top of you, deeply resting enough to not notice you slip out from under him. You cleaned his entire apartment; doing laundry, cleaning, scrubbing, replacing necessities he deemed himself too lazy to pay attention to. You did dishes, cleaned out his fridge, and as you mopped up the floors, the sun set and Carmy emerged from the bedroom.

"Baby?" He mumbled in earnest confusion, sighing in relief when he saw you.

"What? Afraid I disappeared on you?" You teased with a small grin.

"For sure," he mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes; making your amusement dim when you realized the nerve it struck. "The hell you doin'?"

"You didn't seriously think I could rest knowing this monster of a clean-up job lingered out here, did you?"

"I don't want you t'clean after me."

"Well, too late," you smirked. "You good now?"

"I feel better, yeah."

"Good."

"And I made up my mind."

"Hmm? About what?"

"I'm gonna take some time off work," he nodded, "and focus on us. Get us in a new crib, it'll be nice."

"Think you can handle that?"

He nodded, "I'll have to, you're the most important thing in my life, I can't lose you. So, if I gotta take time off, that's the least of my worries. I'm only here for us, for you."

You smiled at him, setting the mop aside to wrap him in your arms. "I like the sound of that, us making a home together - being able to decorate a new home. But don't let me overdo it, okay? I get all excited and kinda bulldoze my way through projects. I don't want you t'find real reason t'resent me."

"Nah, that ain't possible," he promised quietly.

True to his word, Carmy took three solid weeks off; agreeing to a fourth week as a contact-only consultant. You and he slept in most days, looking at apartments, and not once did he even mention work. He was diligent in his attention, focused on you and you alone; putting in overtime to rebuild that what was broke by focusing on shared interests again. You found a place you loved ready for what was basically immediate move-in, taking time to pack your respected places and prepare for the official start of your cohabitating relationship.

You didn't forget what he said, being reserved in your displays of love. Yet Carmy was different; he was totally clingy the moment you returned to his life. He feared letting you go meant you'd disappear again, feared you'd run away again. He held your hand at every possible opportunity, got you a fresh bouquet of weekly flowers, ran all his errands with you; never went to bed without you, cooked all meals with you in the kitchen - perched up on a counter. Most showers you took together, and almost every night was spent cuddling on the couch or in bed with either a book being shared between you or a new show playing on the mounted flatscreen TV.

Carmy clung because he thought if he showed you acts of his love, it'd allow comfort towards your loving behavior to flourish again - and he was right. It took a little bit of time, but Carmy clung tighter and tighter; ensuring you started to reciprocate before ever easing up in the intensity of his affectionate displays. He didn't want to overwhelm you, but knew you needed the reassurance.

You were cautious, you were apprehensive; tiptoeing around Carmy even when living together before warming back up to him. You didn't need to repeat the words he hurled at you all those weeks ago, not wanting to dredge up repressed feelings, but never letting him forget what he said. Your actions spoke enough, skittish around his affection; something Carmy took note of and despised himself for. He made up for it, of course he did, it was Carmy and he hated tension and conflict in his closest circles of life. Yet it wasn't so easy for you two to move forward, they weren't just words to you.

They were direct insults to you as a person; to you and how you loved others. Carmy had seen your deepest fear and used it as a defense against you - wanting you to hurt the way he was, too. He understood this wasn't acceptable, knowing the next time he resorted to such despicable actions, you'd simply walk away; never dealing with disrespect, so, he needed to be acutely aware of his words.

You would never allow yourself to be someone else's doormat, but part of being an adult is understanding that people were allowed to make mistakes - it's part of being fucking human. How terrible you'd feel if someone held your own mistakes against you, because the truth was, you weren't perfect either.

Part of being in a(n adult) relationship is understanding when someone apologized, it was best to accept and move on because nothing was ever solved by dragging turmoil out. This didn't mean forget what happened, forget whatever emotion was evoked - but to do your part to repair what was broken; no matter who was at fault, it always took Two to Tango.

And in this song and dance, you were ready to sweep around the dance floor if only with Carmy. Because that's what a relationship was; a conscious effort by both partners to work as one, to dance in-sync; owning the art together, as equal partners.

requesting rules and masterlist

The Bear masterlist

Clingy Baby collection masterlist

[drewsbraziliangf]

nothing to say when heaven falls | Drew Starkey x black!reader

summary: what can you do when the person that’s supposed to understand and be on your side chooses to doubt your fears?

Word count: 1388

a/n: not edited, we die like soldiers!!!!! pls let me know if you wish to be added to my taglist

"How can't you see how disrespectful this is to me, Drew?" You ask with a strained voice and teary eyes. "Everywhere you go she's looming like a shadow."

"She's my friend, what do you want me to do?" Exasperated, he asks.

"I don't know. Maybe tell her that your fiancé doesn't feel comfortable with her following you around, traveling abroad to see you or fuck, being all fucking touchy and handsy with you in public."

My throat was burning as the words slipped my mouth but I simply couldn't avoid it any longer. I am so tired of this whole situation and it has been going on for far too long. I just can't hold it back anymore.

"Can't exactly tell her what to do," he rolled his eyes this time.

"Really? Am I really asking for that much?" I look at the man in front of me with disbelief, "I just want to feel like I'm not invisible in my own goddamn relationship. She sees you more than I do and I am the one with a ring on my finger. How is this fair?" 

"Babe, listen, there's nothing going on between me and her. You have to believe me," he pleads as he runs his hands through his hair.

"You don't think I'm trying to believe you? I'm in the trenches everyday telling myself this over and over again, but how can I turn a blind eye to it when the first thing I see whenever I'm online is that you're both coincidently in the same city. For the millionth time."

I know that pulling this out in the open this way isn't the best option. But how could I keep bottling all of this up when it's causing such a heavy pain in my chest every time I see their names together?

It was always clear the perks of dating a public figure and I never backed out on it. Now seeing the man who asked me to spend the rest of my life with him and have his babies walking around with the woman everyone swears he was romantically involved with is messed up.

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he admits as he walks away from me.

That felt like a punch. Because how could I make it anymore obvious? Do I have to draw it to a thirty year old why he should respect the woman he chose to propose to? 

“Are you for real right now?” I asked as I follow him into the kitchen of our shared apartment. “Did you really just said that to me, Joseph?”

At this point it felt like there was no going back anymore, either this was going to be totally fixed here or it wouldn’t at all. The bandaid was ripped and the wound was open and burning.

“How can you be so dull? You really can’t see what the problem here is?” 

I watch as he fills a glass with water and turns his back to me. He did it twice already. The off white walls of the kitchen lacked the warm they always brought when we were in it together. It felt claustrophobic and like the roof was going to fall over our heads at any given minute.

“You’re acting like I’m cheating on you. Like this is some major fuck up. It isn’t, you’re turning it into something it isn’t.” His tone was cold but looking at his posture it was clear that he was trying to maintain his calm.

The condescending tone in his voice made me want to shrink into myself and hide away from the world.

“Oh, right. Yeah, blame it on me for thinking that my fiancé going out of his way to be with his ex fuck buddy isn’t normal.”

“Careful,” he warns once finally looks at me.

“Or what, Drew? What else could you possibly do that will make me feel worse than I already do?” I challenge, my gaze locked on him as I wait.

After a few minutes of us staring down at each other, he shakes his head and sighs. 

“I’m not doing whatever this is. I’m done entertaining this,” he declares and he leans against the countertop.

Drew and I met around two years ago through a mutual friend. We instantly hit off and after a few dates, he officially asked me to be his girlfriend - which I obviously accepted. We had this instant connection that isn’t common. At first I was terrified of it, I knew who he was and the fact that his life was always being scrutinized by thousands of people. I knew what people said online about him and as we got closer and closer I couldn’t help but lose myself in the speculations about him even more.

Our relationship was great and we always made sure that each others boundaries were respected, so color me stoked to be in this situation right now. I am not dumb and every single day there is a needle pinching me making me think of stuff and situations like the one we find ourselves right now just indulge those thoughts.

In the early days of our relationship we made sure there were no secrets between us and past relationships. I knew I was his first black girlfriend, I knew he was born and raised in the South too. So joining that and the fact that I am an immigrant did make me scared of a lot of things, the main of them being the fact that it isn’t uncommon at all for men to always find their way back to that they are used to. 

So seeing her upon him all the time while people online barely know about our relationship feels like hell. Because even though I’m in family pictures that his sisters post online, and the very visible ring on my finger I am never considered the option of being his significant other. She is. Every single time. And he never did anything about it - hell, he never even set boundaries with her and she knows that we’re together. Am I really reading too much into things? 

Being three months away from our wedding day, this isn’t the kind of thought or conversations I would like to be having. I should be fucking excited and dress hunting, but lately the only thing that I feel like doing is swallowing lumps and holding back tears, faking smiles and pretending I’m fine. I’m not, I’m fucking falling apart and I’m so tired of begging to be seen. 

“I don’t know how else to tell you that I am not comfortable with this and that you shouldn’t be either,” I point out as the first tear cross the edges of my cheeks. “I don’t know how else to ask you to respect our relationship.”

“I respect our relationship, I always did. I just don’t think that what you’re saying right now makes any sense. Whatever I had with her in the past is over.” He says as he runs one of his hands through his face.

“Drew, honey, you’re not seeing things from my point of view. Imagine if it was me catching planes every other day to be with someone that I was involved in with in the past. And all of our friends know that you and I are together. How would that make you feel?”

At that he says nothing but silence can mean many things, and in this case it means consent. 

Tired of this back in forth conversation, I reach for my phone that was besides his on the counter and as if the timing couldn’t be more right, the screen of his phone lights up with an incoming call. No surprise flashes through my features as I see the picture on the caller id, both of them in a mirror picture as they brush their teeth.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I confess watching as he reaches for his phone quickly declining the call. “Not when you’re up to your eyeballs into whatever this is. I’ll make the calls tomorrow and cancel the dates with the venue.”

I grab my phone and my purse and I walk towards the front door before he can say anything else, I’m closing it behind me. 

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

slipping through my fingers

pairing: ex-husband! leon x ex-wife! reader

tags/cw: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, p-in-v (unprotected), breeding kink, chris and rose make an appearance, exes to lovers, periodic pov switch

summary: previously absent-father leon comes back into reader's life when he decides to step-up as a father to their daughter, june

a/n: this is a commission for @mikadayo !

wc: 5.3k

taglist:

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It was supposed to be over. It was over. You finalized your divorce with Leon and got full custody of your daughter, June. It's hard being a single mom, but making the choice to become one was an easy one. You'd do anything for your little girl, and that includes making sure she has a stable home life, which was something she'd never get with Leon.

He had his chances to see her. You were willing to let him have her on Father's Day and New Years Eve, even Spring Break once, but he never took you up on your offers. Work was always too busy.

Whenever your daughter asks about Daddy, you tell her, "he's busy working to make sure the world stays safe."

"He's gonna make sure there's no monsters under my bed ever."

"That's right, honey. No monsters can get you because your dad is gonna make them go away."

She doesn't know about Umbrella, STRATCOM, the DSO, or why he was sick for a little while and had to go to a special facility before he could come home. ‘Parasite’ is not a word in her vocabulary.

But one fateful Saturday morning, Leon - older and more sober - stands at your doorstep.

With a coffee mug in your hand and slippers on your feet, you open your front door, assuming it's a neighbor who got your mail by mistake or a kid selling girl scout cookies. But, luck isn't on your side today.

"Good morning," he says, all cheery and nonchalant.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

June - who seems to have phenomenal hearing this morning - chimes in, "that's a bad word, ."

"I'm an adult, so I can say bad words sometimes," you say, hoping it will be enough of a response for her, but her nosiness prevails.

Peering out from behind you, she realizes who you're talking to, and pushing past you to see him, she exclaims, "Daddy!"

"Hi, sweetheart," he says, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the forehead.

Full of excitement, she talks a mile a minute. "I missed you so much. I have to show you my Barbies and my science project and - Oh! we're having pancakes for breakfast because  makes them on Saturdays with chocolate chips and-"

"Slow down, June bug," he says with a smile identical to hers. "Let's do one thing at a time. First we have to make sure that your mommy is okay with me hanging out with you today."

"Of course she is!" June says, turning to you. "Right, mommy?"

You sigh. "Of course I am." You make a face that only Leon can recognize as annoyance. Not anger, just irritation. You wanted him to make an effort, right?

Leon listens eagerly to everything about My Little Pony and the ant farm at school while you clean up breakfast and make yourself slightly more presentable. Leon looks better than you'd like to admit, and whether it's to spite him or to impress him, you decide you need to look decent in front of him too.

"Can I talk to daddy for a minute, honey?" you ask.

"Okay, but only for five minutes because we're gonna watch a movie."

You can't help but laugh at the fact that she tries to hog her father - your ex-husband. A man who was once yours, who you used to love. 

"Okay five minutes," you tell her, as you give Leon a nod in the direction of the kitchen.

From the kitchen, you drag him out the back door, onto the porch and you can see in his face that he is prepared for the talking-to that he's about to get.

"You can't just show up unannounced,” you whisper-yell at him in the way that parents do. 

"I know, but I was in the area and-"

"No. You should've called me."

"I did, but it went to voicemail."

"When?"

"A few hours ago."

"I was asleep."

"How was I supposed to know that?"

"I always sleep in on Saturdays.” It irks you how he forgets the simplest things about you, and you almost let yourself get consumed by the urge to keep arguing, but then you remember why you’re both standing here. “This isn't even about me. You can't do this to her."

"Do what? Hang out with my daughter? She's happy. Look at her."

"She's happy now, but what about when you leave? What about when I have to calm her down when she's crying because she misses you?"

"Just tell her I'll be back."

"But that's not fucking good enough, Leon! That doesn't mean anything. You've been gone for years."

"What do you want me to do? Leave now?"

You peek inside to see your baby girl smiling to herself.

"No."

"We'll figure something out, babe, I swear."

"Do not 'babe' me. We're not doing that."

"Okay, sorry."

You can't tell if his ‘sorry’ is an apology or a way to get you off his ass for the time being.

Leon knows this isn't the ideal scenario, but he prays that the old adage, 'better late than never' proves itself to be true.

He really is sorry. 

Sorry. It never comes out quite right, his mouth is still learning how to mold itself to fit that word. He hopes the look in his eyes gives way to the fact that he means it. 

Regardless, you cut your lecture short after peering in the window at June who is patiently waiting in front of the TV for him to come back.

Leon rarely ever relaxes. His job puts him constantly on edge, waiting for the industry's latest bioweapon to tear his head off. But, with June in his lap, the two of them both fall asleep while Mulan remains on the TV.

You wake June up for lunch, which stirs Leon as well - he never likes having his sleep interrupted but when he finds out you've made macaroni and cheese (and he's allowed to have some), all is forgiven.

That afternoon, Leon feels you staring him down like he's an inmate and you're a prison guard. He feels a little guilty, though he's committed no crimes. He shouldn't be here, he should be home, away from the sacred space you've created for his little girl. If he loves her, he'll let her go.

No. He said that about you, and so far, it hasn't worked.

If he loves his little June bug, he'll hold her tight.

So, Leon comes back the next weekend, announced, like you asked, though maybe he should've been a bit more specific about his intentions.

"Are you guys gonna watch a movie?" you ask. "Or are you gonna show dad your new toy?"

"Actually," Leon cuts in, "I was thinking about taking her to the fair." 

Leon’s not a man who typically walks around with a mind full of adventures - you were always the one to plan the dates you went on together. This idea came to him when he looked up 'things to do near me with children', and found an article that mentioned the county fair. 

"The fair?" You look apprehensive. 

You were never this way with him, you would go anywhere with him - at least, in the beginning, back when you were absolutely smitten with him. God, he misses those days. 

But, maybe Leon should have considered the concerns that you might have about him taking June to the fair. However, the website he consulted didn't give him any instructions on 'how to convince your ex-wife to let you bring your child here' - the only directions consisted of an address that he could type into his GPS. 

"Yeah, I heard it's this weekend and I think it would be a fun time, you know, we could ride some rides, get cotton candy…"

"Cotton candy!" A voice from behind Leon calls.

"I'm worried about June getting on those rides, I mean, they can't be entirely safe."

"I promise, I'll make sure she's safe."

"Mommy, please." It seems to be June who convinces you, though Leon does mimic her pouty puppy dog face.

"Fine, but you need sunscreen, and I don't want you eating too much junk food." Leon tries his best to keep up with all your instructions, though he misses some, in particular, he forgets your insistence that he "keeps you updated the whole time."

"Got it," Leon tells you, overconfident in his listening skills when he's got an excited little kid pulling him out the door.

"And you better not be taking her on that bike, Leon Kennedy!"

"Can I have your car keys?" he asks sheepishly.

You grab them off the counter and hand them to him. "If you crash my car so help me God-"

"I won't." Not while his girl is with him. He drives under the speed limit with her buckled in her carseat. (You had to help him with that, and honestly, you seemed grateful that he asked you, rather than doing it himself and risking messing it up.) Leon knows you think he’s a fuck-up. 

The fair is a 5 year-old's dream. (Also, a grown man's dream, though Leon would be reluctant to admit that.)

"Can we get a funnel cake, daddy?"

“Hell yeah, we can."

"Mommy says 'Hell' is a bad word."

"She's right. I'm sorry for saying it." Maybe you'll accept a funnel cake as an apology, he thinks.

June gasps, and Leon's protective arm flies out of his jacket pocket to wrap around her, stopping in its tracks when she says, "they have fried Oreos!"

"They make those?" Leon has died and gone to heaven, he's sure of it.

The fried Oreos taste 'fucking amazing', though Leon stops himself from saying that in front of his daughter. They're truly the pinnacle of American cuisine.

The fair is like a casino, both in the sense that it drains your wallet and makes you forget how long you've been there. They have the spinning teacups, the petting zoo, the carousel, everything a child's mind could dream up.

"I remember your mom and I kissed at the top of one of these once," he tells June when they're on the ferris wheel.

"Ew! You could've given her cooties!"

"Cooties? You still believe in those?"

"Yeah, if a boy touches you, you can get it."

On second thought, cooties absolutely exist. His little girl isn't having a boyfriend until she's 25.

"Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot - you can get it when you're a kid, but I was an adult when I kissed your mom, so we didn't get cooties."

He spares her the details of what really happened on that ferris wheel. His daughter will never hear that story.

That Saturday is one of the best days of Leon's life - second only to June's birth.

That is, until he drops her off at home. You are pissed like he's never seen before.

"Oh, you're alive!" You take June in your arms and kiss her on the cheek.

You do not look as happy to see him. "Leon, I was worried sick about y- her!"

He hears the almost slip of the tongue. You. You worried about them both. You worried about him.

"I'm sorry." And, he means it, really.

"Mommy, it's okay," June assures you. "Daddy won me this." She hands you a teddy bear.

"How'd he do that?"

You look at him, almost suspicious, but he gives you a proud smile, and says, "I won the game where you have to throw darts at the balloons."

"No way! Those are rigged."

"Nope. You're just not as good at them as I am." They probably are rigged but Leon's job has given him superior aim and reaction speed.

Your reluctant smile says you're impressed with his skill.

And, that smile widens when he says, "I got you something too."

"Oh yeah?" The look you give him is one he’s always treasured. He’s always dreamed about making your eyes light up like that again.

"Here." He hands you a styrofoam takeout box, and watches you as you open it.

"Funnel cake!" Though you always say June got her smile from him, he swears you smile exactly like she does.

A funnel cake? How are you supposed to stay mad at him like this?

When Leon is about to exit after saying his goodbyes to June, you stop him. "I'm gonna go put her to bed, and then we're going to have a talk."

A lecture. Not the kind of ‘talk’ he likes.

"Mommy, I want daddy to read me a story."

Leon might have a convincing face, one that works on you nine times out of ten, but June's works ten times out of ten.

You give Leon a pleading look - something you wouldn't have expected to do since your divorce - and he says, "yeah, of course."

"I expect you to be good," you tell June when you hug her goodnight. "You know the rules: brush your teeth, put on your pjs, one story, and then lights out."

She nods, though you expect her to push the envelope. And, you expect Leon to cave to her wishes. But you have a date with that funnel cake, and maybe even a beer - you never drink when June is around, but you realize, when you find one in the back of the fridge out in the garage, that you're beginning to trust Leon. If, God forbid, you ever got even the slightest bit drunk, you know he could take care of June. 

Leon finds you on the porch with a half-finished beer and an empty box where the funnel cake used to be. You smile like a child in that you're completely unashamed, or unaware even, of the ring of powdered sugar around your mouth. 

"I thought you'd save some for me," he says. 

"You thought wrong."

"It's kinda funny that you're the one with the beer in hand. It feels like it was always the other way around."

It’s not that funny at all. 

"That's 'cause it was."

He pauses - you half expect him to apologize, but he doesn't. 

"How was she?"

"Good. She fell asleep while I was reading to her."

"The first book?"

"Are there usually more books?"

"Unbelievable! She always begs me for 'one more story', and I'm such a softie. I always give in."

He laughs. A beautiful laugh. "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents."

"She was probably tired from her long day out." You give him the 'you're in trouble' look that June never gets. 

"I'm sorry. We were having a great time."

"I almost called the police, Leon. I thought you two had died."

"Died? She's safe with me. Always." He pats his hip where Matilda resides, holstered under his jacket.

"You brought a gun into my house? Into my baby's bedroom? I don't want that thing anywhere near her!"

"Chill. The safety's on, and she can't get to it without getting past me, and I've got fast reflexes."

"Oh yeah? I could just-" You reach for the gun, but he grabs your wrist. Then, you think you can catch him off-guard with the other hand, but he's one step ahead, immediately grabbing your other wrist before it gets anywhere near the gun. 

"No, you can't."

"You expected me to do it."

"I expected the second hand after the first. I'm just paying attention."

"Let go of my wrists."

"Will you behave?"

You scoff. "Yes." 

You don't want to 'behave', you want Leon's hands pinning your wrists to the bed. You shake off that thought quickly.

To 'prove that you can outsmart him', you try to grab his gun again when he lets you go. Of course, he stops you. You've never gotten past him. Not when you used to 'play-fight', not when you tried to sneak up on him, not now.

"What do you think you're doing?" He's trying so hard not to laugh, you can see his lip twitching. 

"Fine. You proved your point."

But he doesn't let go yet. "Do you wanna know what I told June earlier?" he whispers. 

"What did you tell her?"

"When we were on the ferris wheel," he enunciates every syllable in 'ferris wheel' and you already know where it's going before he says it, "I told her we kissed on one of those a long time ago."

He must see your worry because he adds, "don't worry, I didn't say anything more about what happened."

About how his hands were under your skirt, and his fingers were knuckle-deep inside you.

“You better not have told her about that."

"I've always kept it a secret. Just between us... and probably the guy operating the ride and people waiting in line who saw your shaky legs and blushing face."

"Shut up!"

"That was my line." He lets go of your wrists, and you're too stunned to do anything. 

It becomes a routine - Leon comes and sees June on the weekends. You know it's going to end one day. He'll leave you both behind. He always does. Sometimes it's work, sometimes it's other things (though you always tell June it's work). 

You wait for him the next Saturday. You've never really set a specific time for Leon to come over because that would be setting expectations, and you've learned that with him expectations just lead to being let down. But, he's later than usual. The pang of anxiety is a familiar one. 

Finally, he shows up, and when he pulls into your driveway, you nearly cry. You care because June cares. At least, that's what you tell yourself. 

"I think my little girl should come stay with me for the weekend," Leon says, and you wonder if saying it in front of June is a strategic move on his part. You can say no to him, but not to her. 

She jumps up and down with joy. You'd think she was just told she's being taken to Disney World, not her dad's apartment. 

"I don't know about this..." You try to shut the idea down. "I mean, you don't even have a carseat, Leon, how can I expect you to have a toothbrush for her? Do you even know how to comb her hair? And, what about her allergies?"

"She's allergic to peanuts and bees, I remember. Her blood type is A positive. She likes watermelon-flavored toothpaste. And Chris told me what shampoo he buys for Rose and how he does her hair."

You're impressed to say the least. "And what about-"

"If I need anything, I'll call you. Okay?"

"I expect you to call me anyway."

"June bug, will you remind me to call  if I forget?"

"Yes," she says, standing up straight like a soldier. 

Would you normally trust your five year-old to remember something crucial? No. But, you know she'll want to say goodnight to you. You're surprised she's willing to stay over at someone else's house, let alone excited about a sleepover. She's always been attached to you. You and June have existed as a duo since she was born. 

It takes you at least an hour to pack everything. You fill two suitcases - and admittedly, it is hot to watch Leon carry them both to the car with no trouble. 

But that rush of arousal lasts for two minutes maximum. You watch them drive away and realize June left without hugging you goodbye. She usually hangs onto your leg like a koala bear and you have to peel her off of you. You only got a wave from Leon. 

It's like her first day of kindergarten all over again - when you teared up at the bus stop watching her climb onto the school bus. 

The only thing that gives you peace of mind is that your baby girl is probably over the moon right now.

She is, and so is her dad. 

There's a singular moment of nervousness on June's part when Chris comes over with Rose. His giant frame and resting face can be intimidating to adults, so he's like the boogeyman to children. Ironic because he's a good father figure, one Leon looks up to. 

Leon tries to coax June out from behind him where she hides from Chris, but the one who successfully gets her to feel safe enough to do so is Rose, who is only a bit older, and a bit taller than June. 

“Don't worry. He's not scary. He fights monsters."

"My dad fights monsters."

"He also plays Barbies sometimes."

Leon stifles a laugh. 

"Let the record show that I play as Ken," Chris insists.

June comes out of hiding to announce that, "My dad is Chef Barbie."

"Is that right?" Chris says, shooting Leon a look that says, 'who's laughing now?'. 

"Well, I would've been Lifeguard Barbie but she was already taken."

The afternoon consists of Lifeguard Barbie saving Chef Barbie, who cannot swim, and ends up in the hospital where she is taken care of by Doctor Barbie - played by Rose - and with a grand finale and a costume change, Chef Barbie and Ken get married. 

Dinner is pizza, which Leon did not expect to be as much of a hit as it was. You'd think he cooked a fancy steak dinner if you saw the look on June's face. 

"Mom never orders pizza at home!"

"Really?"

"She says it's bad for you."

"Let's not tell her about it then."

They also agree not to mention the ice cream sundaes that are served for dessert. 

Both girls fall asleep in front of the TV. Chris carries Rose to the car as she sleeps soundly in his arms. He's become accustomed to that, but it's new for Leon to get to tuck his baby girl into bed like this. He can't remember the last time he carried her. 

When the heartwarming feeling subsides a bit, he realizes he forgot to call you. Shit. He's going to be in trouble. 

Leon calls you from his bedroom, so he doesn't wake June. 

You sound eager to hear from them both, and he feels awful when he hears your disappointment that you're only going to get to talk to him. 

"Do you want me to wake her up?"

"No, no. If she's asleep, don't. I'm just glad you guys had fun."

"We did. Thank you for letting me take her."

"Yeah... Goodnight, Leon."

And, he can't hear the sadness in your voice, so he doesn't understand why you end the phone call so quickly. He expected you to want a rundown of the day, but sleep comes over him and he brushes it off. 

It was a bad choice to watch Mamma Mia that night. You have to pause the TV to grab the tissues when they get to Slipping Through My Fingers. It hits a bit too close to home.

Why aren't you like Meryl Streep? Would it be better if you didn't know who June's father was and you moved to a small town in Greece? 

Realistically, no. 

But halfway through the tub of ice cream you devour, you're convinced you've done it all wrong. 

You were the strict parent but you were also the fun parent because you were the only parent. Then, Leon comes around and swoops your daughter up - and with his ever-present charm, becomes the light of her life.

It's the next weekend when your heart is truly broken- when June is supposed to go to your parents house for the weekend. She usually loves staying with them because they live by the lake and she's finally old enough to swim - with floaties of course. Often, it takes some convincing to get her out the door as she's apprehensive to leave her mom behind, but this time, she says something different. 

"I wanna go see daddy," she cries. 

"You'll see daddy next weekend. Plus, you had me yesterday."

"I don't want you, I want daddy!"

Though she's the child, you're the one who sobs like a baby. You consider calling your own mother to calm you down. 

You don't even feel like yourself anymore, you don't feel like June's mom anymore. the woman your daughter looked up to, the person she loved more than anyone. Now, you feel like you're no more than a woman who lives in the same house, a woman who drives her to soccer practice and packs her lunches. Dad takes her on adventures and lets her stay up late. Mom is an evil dictator who enforces bedtimes.

You gave Leon a key to your house the weekend before. A familiar one, one with a keychain that used to be his. He used to live here. He missed it. He missed you. 

He comes over on the weekends for you both, though it takes him time to fully accept that. Leon remembers you saying that June would be at her grandparents this weekend, but pretends that he doesn't. 

When he arrives he lets himself in, and he finds you crying in the kitchen. He's not sure whether to feel better about being here or worse. He wants to cheer you up, but he worries he'll fuck up somehow. He usually does. 

"What's wrong?" he asks, though he knows he'll need to do more than that to drag the truth out of you. 

And he's right. You respond with a simple lie. A classic. "It's nothing. I'm fine. I just had a hard week at work, that's all."

He places a hand on your shoulder, comforting but begging you to turn to him. "You know I'm here for you, right?"

"You're not here for me. You're here for her. And that's all right, Leon. That's how it's supposed to be. You two still have a special relationship, but us - we have nothing anymore."

"That's not true. We might not be married anymore, but you're still my daughter's mother, and I'm still your daughter's father. We have the best baby girl. Both of us."

He looks into your eyes when he says it.

"And, I wish I could take credit for her being the greatest child I've ever met, but you're the one who raised her - up to this point."

He can tell that the last phrase throws you off. You don't cut him off, you don't try to push him away. 

"I want to be involved. I know I fucked up. Big time. I fucked up catastrophically. But, I want to be there for my girl… and for my other girl, if she'll let me."

"I'm not your girl."

But you were, and the spark is still there. The lack of passion was not your reason for divorce. Your immense love is what kept you together for so long. You were - are - head-over-heels for him. Love - it's incurable.

Now, Leon recognizes the situation for what it is, and swears he'll step up and be a father. But people lie sometimes. Leon has a thousand times now. 

Something in the back of your mind says, one more time. Hope, delusion, optimism. 

And, June, as much as her words hurt you, you've never seen her so happy. 

You explain it all to Leon while he holds you in his arms like you're his baby girl. Because you were. Because you are. 

"She doesn't love me anymore."

"She loves you so much. Just because she loves me, doesn't mean she doesn't love you. She's got a lot of love in her heart. She's a sweet girl like her mom."

Somehow, he always manages to make you feel flustered even when you're crying. 

"You're easy to love," he whispers. 

"Are you saying that-"

"Yes, I'm saying it. I lo-."

You kiss him to cut him off before he can say it. You don't want to have to say it back - because you'd be telling the truth, and sometimes the truth is hard. 

At first, he doesn't kiss you back, and you think you've fucked up, but for once, you've caught him off-guard. 

You make out like teenagers on your living room couch until Leon insists on carrying you upstairs. "I don't care if we don't go any further than this, but I'm old - and I want to take you to bed, in one way or another."

With Leon, it never stops at just making out even though you know he'd never pressure you to do more. He makes you feel insatiable. 

"Fuck, baby," Leon groans. "I missed being inside you."

Inside you - without a condom. You love him that much. 

"I missed this too," you say between moans. "I couldn't get off without thinking about you, about what you do to me."

He lifts your legs and hooks them upon his shoulders, and the new angle makes his cock rub against the most sensitive part of you with every stroke. Your mouth falls open and your head falls back onto the pillow as you let out a gasp of pure pleasure.

"Yeah? Tell me what you've been thinking about." He doesn’t stop fucking you while he speaks, the dirty talk only spurs him on further.

You can't tell him anything. The only word you have in your mind is ‘Leon’, and even that gets stuck in your throat. He's reduced you to downright pornographic moans. 

He slows the roll of his hips. "Want you to tell me," he says. 

"Leon," you whine and reach out to grab him - but your efforts are in vain, he has you at his mercy in this position. 

"Tell me."

"Every time I touched myself, I thought about when we were trying to conceive… It was the best sex I ever had."

"We can do that again, baby. Just say the word." 

There's nothing that Leon wants more than to cum inside you, you know this. 

"Please."

"You want me to put a baby in you?"

"Mm-hmm."

He doesn't even make you beg because he can't stop running his own mouth. His filthy, beautiful mouth. "I remember how gorgeous you looked when you were pregnant. God, I wanted to fuck you the whole time."

"I told you that you could have me whenever you wanted me, however you wanted me. I told you I wanted it rough and you wouldn't give it to me."

"I had to be gentle with you, baby. Couldn't risk it."

"You're still being gentle."

"'Cause you're so precious."

"You're not gonna hurt me, Leon. I want you to be rough with me."

And that's his cue to press your legs to your chest - you know he can fuck you faster and harder in this position, but you swear he manages to bury himself deeper inside you than before, too. 

It's a good thing you're alone in the house because otherwise Leon would have to find a way to shut you up. He could easily clamp his hand over your mouth, but he lets you whine unrestrained, begging him over and over for 'more'. 

"You're gonna wake the whole goddamn neighborhood, baby."

"I don't care. I need you."

"Fuck." He snaps his hips into you with increased vigor. He must not care either, not enough to stop. 

You try to tell him how good it feels, and moreover, how close you are to the edge, but it gets lost in a sea of moans. 

It doesn't matter, though, because your walls tightening around him tell him all he needs to know.

"You're squeezin' me, baby. Not gonna be able to pull out if you don't let up."

"Don't pull out."

"Yeah? You sure? You want me to put a baby in you?" 

It's all rhetorical but you nod at every question. You wrap your legs around him, forcing him to stay inside you, and you don't let him go until well after your high has subsided. 

In the post-orgasm haze, you say the words you meant to hold back before. "I love you."

And he doesn’t hesitate to say it back.  

[lolotr]

the devlin episode has so much fucking nuance, especially in the relationship between crystal and edwin

someone else has pointed out that edwin correcting himself from "I could lose Charles" to "we could lose Charles" is huge, yes. he realizes that while Charles is hugely important to him, charles is hugely important to Crystal too

and he's also confronted with the fact that crystal is important to Charles as well, since Charles told her something he'd never told Edwin. something about her + the devlin case + the break in their comfortable duo allowed him to open up. Edwin is forced to see her coming as a good thing.

over eps 2 and 3, he's also realized that she's smart and an asset to the agency outside of just being a medium. she has good instincts and skills, skills he and Charles don't have.

so while he still hasn't taken to her personally, he's grown to appreciate her more. nothing like working together to save your friend to really seal your own bond.

then, Edwin does something incredible: he admits he doesn't know something.

"I don't know how any of this works."

not a huge revelation, right? of course he doesn't know how to work a VCR. but. BUT. Charles JUST pointed out that Edwin gets snippy when he doesn't know something. we've seen him act out like that before (see, for example, how he deals with the whole bracelet situation, even though it's kind of his fault). so instead of being sassy and bitchy about it, he admits it simply. to Crystal, of all people. that's a level of vulnerability he hasn't allowed himself with her.

this episode is a turning point in their friendship and you can't change my mind