#on my own that is. i did keep up w 2 others with my brother

[lewisvinga]

too late! | liam lawson x fem! leclerc! reader

summary; when due to playing tennis and being a leclerc sister, y/n doesn’t often interact with other drivers. so while traveling, she meets liam lawson and ultimately falls in love with him. having overprotective brothers means having to stick to a soft launch before revealing her relationship

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; none (?)

taglist; @namgification

notes; requested ! haha but i actually don’t write for liam lol but i rlly liked this request:p n i don’t really know much abt tennis so bear w me lol

masterlist !

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, and others!

yourusername: this week🌷💓

username: oh mystery man🤔

username: last slide??👀

alexandrasaintmleux: waiting for you to invite me to play tennis😣

yourusername: omg i’ll be in monaco soon!! let’s link up, i miss you😣😣

nicorosberg: make sure you keep that form up😉

yourusername: oh, nico, it was one time !!!

username: y/n gets a break from the wta tour and decides to soft launch😭😭😭

charles_leclerc: y/n??

yourusername: hiiiii charlie☺️☺️☺️

username: pretty girls stan y/n

username: 😍

username: who that

leclerc_pascale: toujours jolie, ma fille 😍 dis-lui que je te dis bonjour ! [always pretty, my daughter! tell him i say hello!]

yourusername: merci, mamannn💗 he says bonjour back😁

arthur_leclerc: maman, you know?

charles_leclerc: tell us, maman, please!

yourusername: go focus on ur vroom vroom go away

liked by arthur_leclerc, lilymhe, and others

yourusername: 💗

username: the alpha tauri shirt???

username: the leclercs really have the best genes wow

lilymhe: double date soon ?😁

yourusername: oh duh

username: wonder if the leclerc brothers know

arthur_leclerc: y/n, answer the gc now

yourusername: no😝

lorenzotl: do we need to have a family meeting ?

charles_leclerc: yes.

yourusername: no we don’t, you drama queens!

username: the leclerc brothers are so😭😭

nicorosberg: i would’ve liked to see how you played with him around 😂

yourusername: he distracts me 😞

charles_leclerc: nico knows but your own brother doesn’t???

yourusername: bc ur a drama queen

[caption 1; 🤍] [caption 2; serenading me 🥴]

liamlawson30 replied to your story !

liamlawson30

your brothers are gonna come after me😩

yourusername

they’re such drama queens

maman is happy 4 me , and my sexy bf is serenading me and that’s all that matters 💆‍♀️💆‍♀️

liamlawson30

sexy you say say😏

yourusername

not w that emoji …

charles_leclerc replied to your story!

charles_leclerc

y/n, what is this

hello?

answer

answer

Y/N???

arthur_leclerc replied to your story!

arthur_leclerc

wtf

hes a driver

y/n what the heck

lorenzotl replied to your story!

lorenzotl

yeah we’re gonna have to have a talk😬

alexandrasaintmleux replied to your story!

alexandrasaintmleux

keep me updated on how charles acts😭

yourusername

going crazy already🙄

liked by liamlawson30, charles_leclerc, and others

yourusername: 💗

tagged; liamlawson30

liamlawson30: love you💙

yourusername: love youuu

liamlawsom30: can we get back to ur sexy bf comment tho 🤔

yourusername: yes we can😁

charles_leclerc: no you cannot. 5 feet away from her. she can’t kiss anyone until her wedding day.

yourusername: 🤦‍♀️

username: CHARLES COMMENT??

username: LMFAO CHARLES

username: they’re so🥹🥹

alexandrasaintmleux: cuties🤍

yourusername: no u😩

charles_leclerc: wait, alex, did you know??

yourusername: LEAVE CHARLES ITS TOO LATE FOR YOU TO BE A DRAMA QUEEN

arthur_leclerc: LET THE MAN SPEAK

arthur_leclerc: ew

yourusername: ur ew.

username: i can’t get over charles and arthur’s comments😭

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

Bucktommy drunken confessions🤭🤭

Please pick up your boyfriend, Howie texts just after 2 a.m. 

Evan used his day off to help his brother-in-law assemble some furniture for Jee-Yun's new nursery – apparently, she’s outgrown her crib and is in dire need of some “big girl” room. For some reason, their DIY afternoon ended up turning into a boozy evening, and with Maddie on a shift and Howie obviously buzzed, it’s probably best to keep Evan from getting in his car. Luckily Jee-Yun is sleeping at Hen and Karen's tonight, because when Tommy arrives, her bed looks half-finished. The two men, on the other hand, look all the more done. 

Howie's hair is tousled as if Jee-Yun has driven her Barbie truck through it, but he’s tipsy at most – Tommy knows that man can drink. Evan, however… well. Evan presents a lot of his chest; his shirt is half unbuttoned like in a 70s porn – it’s a nasty comparison, but Tommy likes the view. 

“Here comes my boyfriend,” Evan croons, his cheeks flushed. 

A quick glance at the table confirms that the men have switched from beer to tequila. Tommy heaves a sigh. Evan’s not on shift tomorrow, but he’s also not used to Tequila, Tommy knows that from experience. He will have to stay with him tonight - which isn't a bad thing, of course, but there are better ways to spend your time than listen to your loved ones vomit.  

“Come on,” he says, ”I'll put you to bed.”

“Awesome, get ready for something!”

“Ew, I don't want to hear that,” Howie says, but Tommy just grins. ���Don't worry, I don't think that's going to work today.”

“I don't want to hear that either!”

Tommy has a hard time getting Evan into the car and half expects him to fall asleep after he's forced him into the seatbelt. This man can sleep anywhere and in the most uncomfortable positions, and he always looks incredibly adorable. Even drunk, like now. But he doesn't fall asleep. He looks at Tommy with that amorous gaze he usually gives after other activities, and out of the blue, he goes, “Did you know that koalas are much lazier than sloths? They sleep almost 20 hours a day!”

Tommy threads his way into traffic, which is never really light even at night in L.A., replying, “No, Evan.”

“They eat eucalyptus...”

“I knew that,” Tommy interjects.

“Yeah of course, you’re clever,” he praises. “But koalas are the only mammals that can live off eucalyptus alone, it's poisonous to other animals.”

“Fascinating.”

It's not so much these random facts about koalas that he finds fascinating. It's just Evan, sitting there with that slightly glazed look on his face, completely relaxed. Knowing that he creates this relaxed atmosphere for this man, that he’s the one where he can be himself and let go… that’s a valuable treasure.

Evan goes on babbling for another fifteen minutes, including a dozen thank you’s for picking him up, and Tommy just enjoys his voice like a pleasant background noise. Every now and then he throws in something that always makes Evan's eyes light up. They’re almost to the loft when Evan says, “I love you,” in such a matter-of-fact tone, it makes Tommy almost wrench the steering wheel.

“That's lovely,” he answers, and he means it, but all he can think is tell me again when you're sober. Evan is too drunk to really understand what he has just said. It's something Tommy’s been dying to hear, something he was too afraid to say himself. 

They somehow make it into the elevator, but as they stand in front of Evan's door, Tommy has to unlock it. Evan trips over his own feet, he almost crashes into the door. Tommy just shakes his head. His back will regret it in the morning, but he shoulders Evan without further ado. His boyfriend squeals with delight, even when he puts him down on the couch - there's no way he'll make it up the stairs with the man on his shoulders, and the bathroom is down here anyway.

“Oh man, I'm d-dizzy,” Evan sighs.

“I'm sure you are. Lie down, I'll get you a blanket.”

Tommy wants to get up, but Evan holds him back.

“Wait,” he says, suddenly with as much seriousness as a drunk can muster, “you didn't say it back.”

“What?”

Tommy thought he’d already forgotten, but this is Evan, he should have known better.

“I said I love you, but you didn't say anything, so maybe you don't love me, that's fine, I guess,” Evan rambles. “Anyway, I'm glad I said it, because it's true.”

Tommy couldn't even resist those Bambi eyes if the man asked him to run into a burning building without any protection. It's unreasonable and irrational, but he's head over heels for Evan, and he knows it. And then, suddenly, there's nothing holding him back, even if he only says it because he can convince himself that his boyfriend will forget about it in a few hours. 

“I love you too, Evan.”

“Oh my God, really?”

Evan jumps up from the couch with a vigor as if he hadn't just said he was dizzy, and he sprints - not very elegantly - into the kitchen. He’s back in the blink of an eye, after pulling open a drawer and rummaging around in it. He pulls Tommy onto the couch, practically sits in his lap, looks at him with those doe eyes and says in a solemn tone, “Give me your hand.”

“Evan...”

“Give me your hand!”

Tommy’s learned early on that it's easier to give in to this whirlwind of a man, so he holds out his hand. Evan pushes something on Tommy's ring finger, having to do so three times before he finally hits. 

“What are you doing?”

Tommy squints at his hand. It looks like ... a keyring, without a key of course; Evan has a junk drawer in the kitchen where he keeps things like that. 

“It's a promise,” says Evan. “One d-day, Thomas Kinard, I will marry you. Just don't forget that!”

Tommy grabs the ring and replies dryly, “Don't worry, I won’t. It's so tight, I don't think I'll be able to get it off.”

“Got a ring cutter for that.”

He smirks, and Tommy can't help his lips to curl into a fond smile. He’s already aware of the ring cutter, even if he was surprised the first time he found it. 

“Main thing is for you to say you'll marry me,” Evan says with his Bambi eyes, “one day, with a real ring. In a sh... a tchu... well, a church.”

He looks like a man proud he got that one word out right, but at the same time, he looks as serious as a drunkard can be. It doesn’t seem like something he’ll actually have forgotten in a couple of hours, rather like it’s been on his heart for a long time. It's a big deal, and Tommy doesn't want to answer lightly just to appease him. His own heart has long been far from casual, concerning Evan. 

“But,” Evan continues, waving his arms, ”if it's really too tight for you, we'd better cut the thing open quickly. I’ve seen a guy, finger swollen as big as an eggplant, couldn’t get his wedding ring off his finger.”

He struggles to get up, but this time Tommy holds him back. 

“Leave it,” he says, looking at the ring. 

It’s just a simple, brass-colored keyring, but at the same time, it’s way more. As Evan had said: it was a promise. A promise did not necessarily have to come true, but it was still something to cling to. Something to look forward to. 

“Fine, we can do it tomorrow,” Evan slurs, just before he leans against Tommy - to fall asleep on his shoulder. 

“Let's do it tomorrow. Or maybe I'll keep it,” Tommy whispers into Evan's curls. 

[diremoone]

quiet kisses | r. sukuna

prompt 2 — “I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe.”

requested by @yuujispinkhair :: Heyyy babe, your Christmas prompt post is so cute 💗💗 If you feel inspired, can you please write a little something for Sukuna + prompt 2 or prompt 7 (whichever you prefer)? 💗💗

a/n: AHHHH thank you so much for sending this in Winter! 🤩 I can’t tell you how much I nearly exploded seeing your request in my inbox! I went with prompt 2 because that’s the one my brain started working for the fastest. I hope you like it and I did your request justice :3

w — alcohol mention, fluff, everyone is 20+ in this fic, modern AU, mentions of prompt 7 heehee, softie! sukuna, sukuna cooks at the end lmao but it’s not related to the chef! sukuna fic

[ Christmas Prompt List ]

[ Christmas Event Masterlist ]

Nobara putting on this Christmas party was anything but unexpected. She was a party girl at heart, but nothing like what you’d see at a frat house or a club. No, she was the party master (or so she likes to call herself). And you kinda had to agree. Her parties weren’t over the top, but they definitely were anything but boring.

This time was no different: catering, along pizza and wine delivery, along with some of the more higher-rated Christmas movies playing on the TV with English Christmas music playing on the background, just loud enough that it wasn’t obnoxious.

You knew your boyfriend had to agree, even if he hated attending social events and parties.

What an introvert, you muse to yourself. You wonder how many people realize that as much as Sukuna seems like it, he doesn’t actually like parties. Nor anyone but himself and you at said parties.

You and Sukuna are off to the side against the bar that separates the kitchen and living area, deep in your own little world of each other. You’re leaning on him, his big arm wrapped around your shoulders comfortably.

You nudge him. “This isn’t so bad. See!”

Sukuna scoffs. “That’s what you said when you forced me into that Santa costume last year.”

“But you had some fun, didn’t you?”

“In the suit? No. Terrorizing children in it? Absolutely.”

You slap his chest. He catches your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. You grumble. ��You idiot.”

“Your idiot,” he remarks with a grin.

Suddenly, like magic, the party suddenly gets loud. Jingle Bells comes on the playlist set up, and everyone has begun to sing as loud as they possibly can. Sukuna grumbles and plugs one ear with a finger, rolling his eyes. He keeps on ear open, and you know it’s just to listen to you as you attempt to sing your way through the giggles.

When the song ends, everyone cheers. Sukuna unplugs his one ear and sighs, taking another sip of the hot chocolate you’ve made for him. They all quiet down, giggling and giddy from the sudden excitement of the old but catchy tune.

But why is everyone now looking at his and your direction?

And then everyone starts chanting: “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You and Sukuna look up at the same time, seeing a mistletoe being hung over your heads by a fishing rod, but none other than the Party Master herself. Nobara grins sadistically with an evil glint in her eye.

Sukuna cusses and downs the rest of his drink before saying, “I think that’s our cue to leave. Nice party, Kugisaki.”

You attempt to down the rest of yours before he grabs your hand with his bigger one and leads you out the front door, almost stumbling over your own two feet.

Behind you, everyone complains about Sukuna being a “party pooper” and leaving. Before you two leave, he turns back to them and gives them the finger.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if we weren’t the only couple here. Maybe Geto and Gojo should finally shack up,” Sukuna says with an evil grin. The two men next to each other go redder than tomatoes in record time. Sukuna isn’t done though, looking at his little brother. “And maybe you and Fushiguro should finally get a room, too, baby brother.”

The chaos from your boyfriend’s words gives you the chance to leave without trouble, the two unspoken couples now being the main attention of Kugisaki’s evil fishing rod-mistletoe.

Maybe they’ll be together come New Years, you think happily.

Sukuna drives you both home. One hand on the wheel, the other intertwined sweetly with yours. But by the time you get home, you’re halfway asleep in the car, hot cocoa being the perpetrator of your tiredness. You attempt to blink and wake up, but Sukuna’s gruff, “Stay put.” halts you as he turns the car off, keeping his keys in one hand.

You have no idea what he’s doing until he opens your door and slides his arms under your back and legs. You squeal and giggle as he effortlessly picks you up from your seat.

“Goddamn, you got the giggles tonight,” he mutters.

Like he’s done it a thousand times (he’s at least done it a couple dozen), Sukuna unlocks the front door with you in his arms with pure ease. He carries you over the threshold like a husband would his bride and doesn’t set you down. He hoists you up, readjusting your position closer to his chest. And then you see the cunning look in his eyes.

“Sukuna, what are you— mmph!”

He dips his head and captures your lips with his. He’s warm, so warm and comforting. You feel so safe and loved in his hold and damn do you love him. Your arms naturally tighten their hold around his neck as you two kiss in your home.

When Sukuna pulls away, he chuckles. You’re slightly breathless from the sudden kiss, but grinning nonetheless.

“You couldn’t do that at the party?” you inquire curiously.

“I’ll kiss you anywhere but under the mistletoe,” he replies honestly. “Especially at a party in front of people. Not my thing to make such an intimate spectacle of ourselves.”

Your heart flutters and overflows with love at his desire to keep his affection solely for your eyes to see. Sukuna has never been one to kiss or do intimate things in public beyond hand holding or wrapping his arm around your shoulders. For him, he considers that to be sacred; any acts of love he prefers to be behind closed doors, kept between the two of you and not in front of people to be fawned over or talked about.

“You really are the sweetest man I’ve ever met,” you say. “I’m so lucky. I really got the best man ever, didn’t I? Thanks, Universe.”

Your boyfriend’s cheeks tint red. A rare sight.

“Fuck. No, I’m the lucky one.” Sukuna gives you a fat smooch on the lips, the adds, “But I don’t have the universe to thank. I got you all by myself.”

You toss your head back and laugh at his indirect proclamation of arrogance. Or maybe it was just unshakable confidence, who knows?

Sukuna sets you down on the couch and asks, “What do you want for dinner?”

You think for a moment before replying, “Didn’t you say wanted to make some penne vodka the other day? That sounds good.”

“Penne alla vodka,” he corrects you with a stern eye.

You toss your hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.”

But as Sukuna gets to work on the dish, you can’t help but stare at him as he works. He could be a master chef like Gordon Ramsey, if not better. But you’re kinda glad he’s not, not if you get to see him in your kitchen every night.

Yeah, you’d trade any party and PDA for his quiet kisses and love at home any day.

taglist:

@vagabond-umlaut | @poe-daydreams | @heresan @thedovahqueen | @lotus-n-l0ve | @chiyoso | @miraclecherryblossomsblog | @unbreakableblueheaven | @marscatbutler | @vanillabloo | @wo-ming-bai | @visionsofmagic | @tohsri | @lilacliliess | @bub-ss | @missmuffinr

[yandereunsolved]

Killing Me Softly - ,, yandere Aegon w/ assassin general reader (part 2) (part 1)

cw(s): yandere themes, descriptive self harm (reader), descriptive self-degredation (reader), suicidal ideation (reader), mild suggestive themes (breeding), dark fantasies (aegon: sa-ing reader, forcing them into traumatic situations)

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You were not able to escape by your own hand alone. You needed to enlist the help of Prince Jacaerys. So now, on dragonback, you sat, your hands tightly gripping his waist so as not to fall from such heights. He had shown you a manipulative tenderness that you had only seen from yourself. The shock was evident on his face as he saw the entirety of you for the first time.

It felt so jarring to be fully exposed to other's for the first time in many years. You managed to steal a pair of servant's clothes, so at least you were out of the skimpy lingerie Aegon had picked for forced you to wear.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You thought you may have grown to love him in that time. Neither of you were saints, as you were well aware. Somehow, that made it seem like a match made by the gods. You'd torture his psyche and break his libido, and he'd trail after you like the desperate whore he is. You saw his other side as well. The one that almost became as sadistic as yours. It was a beauty unlike anything you could have ever imagined.

Only now you know that he needed to lose his life. The embarrassment and shame from that moon and a half will always scar your mind. He did not only take your pride away, but he stripped you of your secrecy. The king will die at your hands. He saw too much of you, and now even The Blacks will know your identity.

It's time to come into the light and for Aegon's blood to be spilled within the darkness of the night.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 It was quick—too quick, you thought. You were nestled away now in Dragonstone, with Jacaerys dotting over you like a worried older brother. He had given you a pair of cloth identical to his own, the targaryen seal pridefully showing itself off on the chest. Your physical wounds were attended to, and he even had the maids bring you multiple meals to choose from.

"You must be famished." He sighs in a way only known to those who have had too many burdens since birth.

You only had a few conversations with him before; you barely spared a glance his way.

"Why are you doing all of this?"

His head snaps up at such an unnatural angle you thought it would crack.

"It is my job." His words are eerily calm.

Your spine stiffens and you curl into yourself. You could feel your gut clench and push against your abdomen, urging you to approach with caution.

"Oh, yes, your job. Take care of the expendable asset whose cover has been blown." You hiss through your teeth in an effort to keep yourself from yelling. Jacaerys half expected a plume of fire to escape your throat.

"Be our general!" He blurts it out. His own face has surprise etched on it, with his brows raised and his cheeks fully flushed. "It has been something that has been talked about for many moons. I wasn't sure when to bring this proposal to you, but this is the perfect moment. Surely others must have seen your face and now know you are the feared assassin that makes every smallfolk want to cower and every noble want to open up their plentiful pockets. You'll win allies to our side."

The hairs stood to attention along your body as bumps of hesitation popped up right along side them.

"Yes, but on one condition." You smirk gleefully. You place your hands on your lap. You dig your freshly cleaned nails into your palms to ignore the tears that threaten to burst from the edges of your eyelids.

"What is this condition of yours?"

"After Aegon is dethroned, I want to be the one to keep his head. I need to mount it on a wall." Your voice cracks at the end—an embarrassing amount. You were suddenly all too aware of the anxiety that had filled your body as he stared into your eyes. It lasted a few moments, and you swear that bastard nearly took your breath away. 

"Done. Welcome to The Blacks, general."

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You were graced with a room close to Daemon and Rhaenyra. They seemed pleasantly surprised that you agreed to work with them. Rhaenyra complimented you on your beauty, and Daemon said that you were much more handsome than he could have ever imagined. They probably decided to mock you behind your back. Damn assholes. The nobles were all the same. They all kept the same lightly mocking tone at the edge of their voices. Their words were like poison slowly infecting your eardrums, entering from there, and slowly spreading throughout your body.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You awoke quickly once again—another night filled with memories of your time with Aegon. You could barely drag yourself back to sleep each night after your eyes flung open. You opted for either training until you exhausted yourself enough for sleep or chipping away at your scars with your own knife. 

"Fresh blood to old wounds. Haha."

Drag the knife along your skin. Cut.

"You've become too weak because of Aegon."

Cut deeper this time.

"You stupid dick."

Deeper, deeper.

"You deserve it. Can you not take a little pain? Have you fallen so far that you hesitate to reopen wounds that have closed? Pathetic."

So deep you can nearly see bone.

"Aegon really got in your head. He really did. Are you cutting yourself for him? Are you doing it because you miss when he would do it himself? Tch—"

Your blood is now coating your nightclothes and the ground.

Like always, you picked yourself up and took care of your wounds. You don't let anyone see you bare, so it isn't as if you would have a need to worry.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You were hailed as the new general in front of crowds of The Blacks supporters. They had a ball, and although it was centered around you, you spent most of the night avoiding those congratulating you and hiding within empty rooms. Jacaerys tried to approach you numerous times, most likely at the order of his mother, but you managed to slip out of his grasp each time.

You were walking to your room an hour before the celebration was to conclude when you were bombarded by the squeaks of a messenger bird. You hastily snatched the rolled-up parchment out of the mourning doves anisodactyl feet, only to be met with the taunting seal of The Greens.

You tore the letter open, much to your own consternation.

𝘙𝘪𝘫𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘺𝘬𝘦āō𝘵. 𝘎ō𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘰 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢?₍₁₎

— 𝘈ō𝘩𝘢 𝘥ā𝘳𝘺𝘴₍₂₎

You had to find a book to translate what Aegon had written. You skipped your bath and bed and went straight to a secluded area to let your frustrations out.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 The morrow arrived with your knuckles and knees bloody, having barely rested. Your demons taunted you, even while you lay awake. Shaking any stray thoughts from your head, you had your first order, stealing dragon eggs from the new clutch Dreamfyre just laid. It was simply a test of your ability as the new general. Your informants had told you that the clutch had five eggs. You were supposed to order those at your disposal to sneak into the dragon pit and grab as much of the clutch as possible.

It struck a bitter chord in your heart.

The ki—Aegon sends a letter just to irritate you. Now you must have some subordinates you do not know break into the expertly guarded castle.

No, that will not do.

You will put your second in command in charge while you retrieve the eggs. He's some loyal man to the family. He should be competent enough to fulfill your duties until you return.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You send a letter of your absence a moment before you leave. It will take at least a moon to get to Kings Landing with your travel route and transportation in mind. A more than a month it takes. It took two more weeks than you had calculated due to their improved security and unseen consequences. Your body has not fully recovered, and you are still quite weak.

You narrowly make it, your body shaking from all the energy you have had to exert.

Under the shadows cast by the moon, you sit on the king's windowsill once again. You were hoping to taunt him, just like old times. You even brought a dagger for your revenge. However, he is nowhere in sight; his wife is the only one in bed. 

She's tossing and turning as the moonlight shines on her pale cheeks. You are able to see they are bright red. It makes you reminisce about all the times you left Aegon, all weepy and hard. You dare to get closer and sit on the edge of the plush bed. Streaks of tears stain her face, which looks as if it were crafted out of porcelain.

Your fingers lift her chin after she settles from her fit. She looks so similar to Aegon. She is his sister, after all. Your other hand lands on her throat. You squeeze it gently, gradually adding pressure. The hand lifting her chin slides over her mouth. You feel more safe the more you cut off her airway. It makes your chest release that breath it was holding in.

Helaena abruptly awakes and sleepily fights against the assailant holding her down. The hand on her mouth retracted as she managed to bite your fingers. 

"Shit, shit, shit."

She was screaming for help. It was a momentary mistake, but it cost you your chance at making Aegon suffer that much more. 

You didn't have time to finish choking her out or to pull your dagger and slit her throat, as the guards were already bursting in the door. You stumbled out of the window and crashed into the roof of one of the connecting buildings below.

Multiple somethings were broken.

You can't breath. You can't move. You were spitting up blood that took up what you were able to see because of your blurry vision.

This isn't you.

This isn't you.

This isn't you!

Get it together you dumb whore.

You crawled to the edge of the roof and pushed yourself off. You rolled and fell. Your body was numb; you could barely move by the time you reached a dark alleyway. You lie there in defeat, as that never-ending cycle of critiquing comments fills your mind with hatred for yourself. You succumb to your injuries.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You spent six months stealing three out of the five dragon eggs. You used your connections to get yourself healed and fed and get more information on the greens. It wasn't easy by any means, and you were barred from going anywhere without at least one guard by your side. The Blacks were impressed, at least. It made you grin.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You sat near the eggs most days while planning. They were one of your greatest achievements recently. The smallest one was mostly white with shades of gray and iridescent scaling. The second medium-sized dragon egg was a pastel red with black speckles and a gray undertone. Now, the largest one was a sight to be seen for your eyes. You would often hold it in your hands and hope for it to hatch. It would be a mighty dragon for someone. Lilac coloring decorated the entirety of it, with splashes of light blue that reminded you of blood spatters.

Your admiring was cut short as you were disrupted by the squawking of a particularly dissatisfied bird. Peering up, you saw a red-tailed hawk circling above your head, its zygodactyl feet holding another letter. You could see the seal of The Greens plain as day. 

Bastard.

𝘋𝘪𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵��𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺𝘴?₍₃₎ 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘳𝘺. 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘳𝘦.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦. 𝘈𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘦? 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘧𝘪𝘹 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵, 𝘤𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵.

— 𝘢ō𝘩𝘢 𝘳𝘢𝘲𝘯𝘰𝘯 ₍₄₎

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Aegon assumes the letter must have gotten to you by now. He laid bare while writing it, his mind filled with thoughts of capturing you once again. You seemed so fragile. That's how the guards described it when they saw you trying to murder his lovely wife. It was undeniably amusing. You are the great assassin, a commander of the blacks, yet you could not slit his wife's throat?

All of his frustration and fury seemed to melt after he received that report. He nearly drunk himself to the grave after learning of your escape. That damned strong bastard took you from him.

You two were meant to be.

Why couldn't he see that?

Why can't his family see that?

He brought up the possibility of capturing you once again, but they are unaware of your previous stay. When he did explain it to the council, they simply stated that you were too much of a threat to keep. alive. They questioned his sanity and his ability to lead as king.

So he did the only reasonable thing one could do. He cut off all their heads and ordered for new councilmen to be put in place.

It was lucky that Aemond was unable to attend the meeting. He would have raised his sword against his brother as well. A kinslayer dying at the hands of a new kinslayer. That would be poetic.

He just cannot stand it. It makes his blood bubble within his veins.

Aemond was your original target. It's no doubt that you still think of him.

You shouldn't.

You should be thinking of Aegon. You should be thinking about how much you hate him and how scary he is! You should be fantasizing about him, just as he does about you.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 And the fantasies—they've only become more obsessive, yet domestic in a way he never thought possible. He imagines Helaena tragically dying due to grief. He would need a spouse and a son soon. So who better to marry than the one person who has been such a great enemy? He would be hailed as a peacemaker, a man who is able to tame even the darkest of hearts. He would also be feared, as he would have such a talented leader by his side.

You'd bear his kin. He'd force you to bear his kin, one way or another.

Then he'd take them away after you had given them life. He'd name them and pamper them all while you suffered with the lack of their touch and warmth. 

Eventually he'd force you into spending time with your children. He'd be enamored by how paternal and hot you'd look while feeding and playing with them.

He'd always keep you round, full, and warm, so you wouldn't be able to escape. He'd make you replace the son you took from him with many more.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He was so irritatable without you. He had no outlet to simply be himself. Sure, his relationship with Helaena has improved, but it isn't quite the same without you. She doesn't listen like you do. She spaces out and starts mumbling random things! He just needs to use you. It makes him feel all fluttery and soft inside.

He misses being used by someone who didn't pretend as if they were holier than thou. Your hits and your retaliation felt so fiery and passionate. They felt like love. The antithesis of what the physical abuse from his mother and grandsire felt like. They were always so cold and callous. Even in your most biting moments, with your words that could cast Westeros into winter, he still felt warm.

"Sentys, jentys, issa jorrāelagon. Skoriot issi ao? Māzigon arlī naejot issa, kostilus. Nyke beg hen ao."₍₅₎ He'd whisper in the dead of night when only the ears of the gods were listening.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 The pleas did not fall on deaf ears. However, the gods move at their own pace, which is usually agonizingly slow for mortals. What was also done this way was the war. Both sides took heavy losses, and while The Blacks were gaining ground, The Greens were supported by the smallfolk. It turns out that killing the opposing sides child and then attempting the life of the 'queen', is not exactly popular amongst commoners.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Jacaerys stuck by your side like tree sap through the planning and the battles. He was like his parents little watchdog. You would be lying if you said you didn't find him just the least bit amusing. He did surprise you with the one-hatched dragon out of the three stolen from Dreamfyre's clutch. The biggest, most extravagant one had hatched to produce a much smaller than normal dragonet.

By imprinting on you at a young age, Jacaerys was able to use his commands in High Valyrian to bond it to you. He did take his time teaching you the basic phrases as well. Daemon seemed miffed at Jacaerys teaching you, but Rhaenyra loved it. You felt like a fucking suffocated child most of the time, but it wasn't that bad. Jacaerys made you feel safe.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 Your dragon was not large enough to ride, but they still followed you around. The dragonet was constantly at your side. They did have a bad habit of scratching you. So you often had to clean them up yourself. Just another set of wounds to heal. Nothing too out of the normal for you.

Until.

"General—" Jacaerys barged in unannounced. You were stitching a particularly deep cut the viscious rascal had given you on your lower stomach. You were not wearing any upper garments because of such. Jacaerys malfunctioned immediately to embarrassment, but his face only portrayed worry.

"Yes, Jacaerys?" You inquire while throwing a thin top on.

"Those scars." He states mournfully. "You have so many. I apologize that you have gone through so much." His words were genuine. They made your heart ache in a way that made you want to seek him out. Stupid. Don't.

"I hardly even notice them. They should not be any concern to you. What is it?" You question, more defensively this time.

"They are of concern. It is not my place but may I ask—"

"You're right," you cut him off before he is even able to finish the sentence. "It is not your place." You feel your throat close in; a cough escapes it. "You don't know what it's like to be a smallfolk, to be on the street and have to fight for scraps!"

"I have had hardships as well. I am sure I will be able sympathize with you." He states in the most friendly and loving voice he is able to muster.

An intense memory materializes in your mind from the one person who helped you in this world. A phrase that has stuck with you through all of your years, even into your mentor's death.

You snap.

"Those who have been served silver spoons with golden plates..." You can't speak for a moment. A handful of pitiful tears escape you. "They will always sneer at those who have been fed by hand and then take a plate from those who barely eat off it."

You shove him out of your room. You don't leave it for the rest of the day. You don't sleep, but you don't cut either. It's impossible in a way. 

Your interaction with him is minimal after that. You actively avoid him and how he makes you feel.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 He drove himself into battle. You only heard reports of it as you were busy on another field, being aided by your draconic companion. Vhagar and Sunfyre targeted Vermax, burning Jacaerys from the skies. You were told this by a messenger. You didn't have the lack of heart to kill the messenger either.

He only gave you a letter. He was told that if Jacaerys died in battle, then he was supposed to give it to you.

𝑰 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆, 𝒔𝒐 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒂𝒚. 𝑰'𝒎 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕.  𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅. 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑰 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅𝒏'𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒆𝒇𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒊𝒑𝒔.  

— 𝑱𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒔 Jace ♡

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You could not take it any longer! Did you love Jacaerys back? Maybe. Did you love Aegon? Perhaps. Aegon still needs to die, love or not.

You had to rush back to Dragonstone and make sure The Blacks were not overtaken. You heard of the warpath the Greens dragons were making. It gave you a valuable opportunity. You could kill the king, Aegon.

You could finally win against him.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 You didn't.

The Greens overtook Dragonstone.

They killed all of the blacks dragons, including your own.

You failed.

You should have killed yourself when you had the chance. So many chances, and yet you were too much of a pussy to take one.

Now you are within Aegon's grimey hands again.

𓍢ִ໋🀦 The last two remaining blacks, other than yourself, are dragged off somewhere, probably to be tortured. Tears almost left your eyes. Rhaenyra would be killed, Jacaerys's last connection to this world. Daemon, you didn't care as much. Still, he was quite brilliant in his tactical nature and taught you a few things here and there.

It's now just you and him, all alone in a secluded room far from his own.

"Ruo₍₆₎," Aegon purrs.

You don't dignify him with a response. You sit on the floor with a blank expression. You are simply a propped-up doll, leaning against the wall, getting ready to be played with again.

"Playing hard to get? Are you so torn that I killed your little boytoy?" He taunts. His legs are spread across the king-sized bed. His body leans down towards the edge of the bed, one of his hands bunching up the bedspread. He cocks his head to the side like an innocent child and grins.

"You—" Your voice trails off. All you are able to think about are those stupid fucking letters.

"Me?" He mumbles wistfully.

"You're dead."

"You won't kill me." He teases lightheartedly, his other hand pushing against his chest and pawing at the fabric of his top.

"Why is that?"

"Let's be honest with ourselves; you could have killed me the first time you saw me. Yet, you didn't. You have had so many other chances to kill me. You haven't. You love me."

"No."

"Kill me then." He lazily tosses you a fork that had been left on the edge of the bedside table. "Come on, it isn't much, but you've killed someone for much less. Avenge Jacaerys. Slit my throat, please." His last words come out in a begging tone. The hand pawing at his chest moves up to wrap around his throat. He squeezes gently and moans so prettily for you.

You take the fork. Your hand shakes vigorously as you stare at the piece of metal.

Why keep lying to yourself? You know he has called your bluff.

The cutlery slips from your hand and clatters against the floor.

You love him. You loved Jacaerys.

"I can't." You scoff indignantly.

"Then fuck me like how you've imagined. Take out all your hatred onto my body. Defile the king that defeated you. Paint my body with welts and hickies. Make my wife die within herself at the sight of her own husband thoroughly taken by the likes of you."

Well, who are you to defy your own king?

ᝰ translation(s) ᝰ.ᐟ

1. Rijes nykeāōt. Gōntan ao miss issa? = Congratulations. Did you miss me?

2. Aōha dārys = Your king

3. jentys = commander

4. aōha raqnon = your love

5. "Sentys, jentys, issa jorrāelagon. Skoriot issi ao? Māzigon arlī naejot issa, kostilus. Nyke beg hen ao." = "Killer, commander, my love. Where are you? Come back to me, please. I beg of you."

6. Ruo = baby

𓆝 𓆟 tag: ( @eexphoria ) 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

[myownwholewildworld]

wherever you go (a joel miller's ff) - chapter 2

chapter 1 | series masterlist | main asterlist | chapter 3

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader.

summary: it’s been nine months since your first encounter with the miller brothers and you're getting slightly annoyed with joel's attitude towards you.

warnings: mdni. mention of suicide. a bit of smut (kissing, rubbing). swear words. both joel and reader get a tad angry. pet names (darling). reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 36. no use of y/n.

a/n: i might have said this was a one-shot ― well, i lied heh. i have come up with an entire storyline in my head so need to put it into words. this is going to be a bumpy ride because i love drama. reader's pov and joel's pov. this is not proofread and english is not my mother tongue, so please excuse any mistakes you might spot. if you would like to be tagged on the next chapters, please let me know. interactions welcome. enjoy!

w/c: ~1.9k.

The rhythm those two had was relentless. You were barely able to keep up, your legs trembling as if you were a newborn foal. Your knees almost gave way, your lungs burning with exhaustion. You managed to grab onto a low hanging branch of a nearby tree to stop yourself from falling.

“Hey― Wait up!”, you shouted at your companions.

One of the men stopped in his tracks, Tommy turning around to look at you. Joel didn’t even bother to come to a halt ― He just kept on walking as if he didn’t hear you.

Sometimes you wondered if he had lost some hearing from his right ear because of the gunshot, or if he just had a really good knack at ignoring you. Every time you talked to him, you felt like you were a nuisance to him. You had spent nine months with the Miller brothers, and you were no closer to knowing Joel than you were to speaking Klingon. You had no issues with Tommy at all, he made the effort to make you feel comfortable. The same thing could not be said of Joel.

At first you thought it was because of how you two met. You had stopped him when he was at his lowest point. You had learned from Tommy that Joel had buried his daughter that day. You understood that feeling so damn well, you almost regretted interrupting him. But you could not just stand and watch as someone decided to take their own lives. You knew how that would have affected Tommy, because you had been on the receiving end of those bad news. It was, probably, selfish of you to have taken away that decision from Joel, but the consequences would have been far more devastating.

But as time went on, you were not so sure anymore why Joel tried his hardest to avoid you. You couldn’t recall a time where you treated him badly ― quite the opposite. You were kind, even understanding when he was rude to you unnecessarily. You looked out for him ―and his brother, of course― in many ways. You were younger, but not defenseless, and had proven yourself useful many a times. So why did he behave like a prick most of the time?

“Joel, hold on”, Tommy said to his brother, tapping on his shoulder, before approaching you.

You had rested your back against the tree you had held on for dear life, trying to catch your breath. Tommy got to your side and offered you his water bottle. You took a sip, avoiding making eye contact with Joel ― not that he was looking in your direction, anyway.

“You alright there?”, Tommy asked.

“Yes, well, no”, you chuckled. “I’m pretty tired, we have been walking for the past six hours non-stop. I need a break, otherwise someone is gonna have to carry me”, you joked.

You caught Joel swiftly turning around to pierce you with those brown eyes. He quickly retreated and looked around, as if he was paying attention to his surroundings in case you were not alone. You frowned, thinking you had imagined it.

“It’s getting pretty late, we probably should set camp somewhere around here. I’ll go and have a look around, make sure it’s safe”, you saw the hesitation in Tommy’s eyes, knowing exactly what he was thinking. He didn’t like leaving Joel alone, neither did you, in all honesty. “Keep an eye on him, please”, Tommy whispered.

You nodded and saw him disappear. You sighed, preparing yourself to be rejected once more. Sometimes you wondered if you were a masochist.

Joel was on guard as soon as he saw you approach him. He looked around, even though he knew there was nowhere to go. He didn’t like you because of how you made him feel. Because you made him feel. You were too nice, always willing to help no matter what, quick with a joke to make people laugh even in the darkest of times. He admired your strength, your wits, your outspokenness, your light-heartedness. You were a beam of light in the midst of darkness ― sometimes he felt like a fly getting too close to the sun.

But he knew better than that. He was not built for any type of personal relationship. He had tried ― and failed. The only connection he had left was Tommy and he was not too sure about that one either. Since his unfruitful attempt at putting an end to his life, Tommy had been walking on eggshells around him. He didn’t need that ― being treated like a damn old book everyone was too afraid to handle.

“Do you have some water?”, you asked him.

Joel almost jumped on the spot ― you had approached him from his right-hand side, which meant he didn’t hear you getting close. So close he had to back up one step. He noticed your bottom lip twitching and understood that you had interpreted his step back as a rejection. He felt compelled to change your mind but didn’t in the end. It was better this way.

“Yeah”, Joel replied as he reached towards his back and grabbed his water bottle from the side of the backpack, offering it. “You have finished yours already?”, he didn’t intend for it to sound accusatory, but it did.

You rolled your eyes, slightly annoyed, and grabbed the bottle to drink some more. “Yes, it’s very hot today, sorry for being human”, you said, giving it back.

“I didn’t mean it that way”, he offered as an excuse, shrugging his shoulders. “I hear a river nearby, I’ll go refill yours and mine”, he extended his hand towards you.

You snatched your water bottle from your backpack and gave it to him. Then you saw him starting to walk away.

“Wait! Where are you going?”, you almost stumbled with your own feet as you followed him.

“As I said, I’m gonna refill the bottles”, he looked at you as if you were daft.

“But we can’t leave, Tommy might come back and not find us―”.

“I’m going, you are staying right here”, he said matter-of-factly.

“No, I’m coming with you”.

“What are you now? My fucking babysitter?”, he snapped at you, his whole demeanour quickly changing, his jaw clenched.

“No, you prick ― I’m tired, I don’t want to be left alone, waiting around, if something happens”, you rapidly came up with a lie. You did feel bad though, because he had seen right through you and Tommy.

“Mhmm”, he muttered. “Ah’ite”.

You walked a couple of feet behind him while he guided you both towards the sound of running water. It really only was like twenty yards away, so Tommy would have no trouble finding you. When you both reached the riverbank, Joel kneeled to dunk a different bottle he kept in his backpack.

“Why are you always so freaking mean to me? Have I done something wrong? Is it because I pushed the gun away from you?”, you babbled before you could stop yourself, bracing yourself as if you were cold, but the reality was you suddenly felt too exposed.

The silence dragged on, and you couldn’t stand it.

“Look, if that’s it, I’m sorry, but…”.

“No, it’s not that”, Joel interrupted you, still not making eye contact. He retrieved the bottle and attached a filter to it. He then put it upside down on top of your bottle and squeezed, so clean water started to fill the container. “It’s just… Nevermind”.

“It’s just what? Don’t you think I deserve an explanation of why you have treated me like shit for the past nine months?”, you pushed, starting to feel your hot-headedness overcome you. A side of you Joel had not come across yet.

He looked up at you, his brows almost touching each other, as he towered above you.

“Hold your horses right there, kid”, he said as he passed you the water bottle with a bit more force than necessary.

“Kid? How old do you think I am, Joel?”, you almost laughed.

“I don’t know, twenty? It doesn’t really matter, I―”.

“Try adding a few years to that, you dickhead”, you crossed your arms at your chest.

He looked slightly confused. Joel did think you were younger than you actually were. Not that it mattered anyway ― in fact, it didn’t change a thing.

“Look, it’s nothing to do with you. And mind your tongue”, he kneeled again to repeat the filtering process.

“So what is it then?”, you insisted while you secured the water bottle to your backpack.

Silence again. Sometimes you would love to punch some words out of him.

“Just leave it be”, he mumbled as he stood up once done with his own bottle.

You cut the distance between you and Joel to bury your index finger in the middle of his chest. Your eyes squinted in anger.

“No, I want an answer. You’re always so damn evasive, it’s driving me crazy”, you demanded.

The atmosphere suddenly shifted as you looked into his eyes. Joel was staring at you angrily ― no, hungrily? Something in the way he was holding himself back sent an exciting shudder down your spine.

“No, darlin’, you are driving me crazy”.

Everything happened too quickly ― Joel’s hand held your chin up as he lowered his mouth. Your lips were slightly parted, already inviting him in. He found no resistance from you as he licked your bottom lip before going in with the full force of his desire. You buried one hand in the hair of his neck, clenching your fingers and pulling softly.

Joel thought he was going to die right there and then. He could not think straight, not when you were so melting in his arms. His senses went haywire the moment he got hit with your scent. Lavander and cinnamon, he thought. He gripped your hip with his free hand, pushing you into him. The kiss turned wetter and hotter, his mind spiralling out of control. You tasted sweet, exactly what he had imagined.

He probably shouldn’t be doing this but couldn’t refrain himself. You had pushed his buttons and now he was too far gone. He had desired you for a while but didn’t want to complicate the situation. The world was going to shit, so there was no point in looking for a bit of hope in the middle of such madness.

He groaned into your mouth when you placed your free hand on the buckle of his belt, holding onto it as if your life depended on it. You pulled from the buckle, his bulge pressing against you. You smiled, satisfied you were not the only one severely affected by the kiss. You could feel the heat rising up in your body.

And as quickly as it started, it ended.

“Guys! Where are you?”, Tommy’s words were carried by the wind.

Joel broke off the embrace so fast you almost fell but was able to steady yourself in time.

“Joel, I―”.

“Not a word”, he cut you off, his voice deep, his eyes drilling into yours with intensity. There was a dark warning tone in his voice that you couldn't ignore. “Over here, Tommy, we’re filling up the bottles”.

A few seconds later, the younger Miller appeared in sight.

“Ah, there you guys are. I found a cave where we could spend the night”. He looked at his brother for a moment, brows wrinkling. “You okay, Joel?”.

“Mhmm, all good. Give me your bottle”.

[scoobydoodean]

Hi! I just wanted to start off by saying that your analyses on the characters are awesome and they really helped further my understanding of the show, so keep up the good work! :D

I was wondering, if you don't mind answering, what did you think of about Dean giving permission for Gadreel/Ezekiel to possess Sam in season 9?

I'm still a bit on the fence about how to feel about it and I thought your particular brand of wisdom might be able to help me out.

Dean had just a few pieces of information at the hospital in 9.01.

Dean knew that Sam had every intention of surviving The Trials in 8.14 and in fact Sam promised he would survive them and show Dean to the light at the end of the tunnel, because Dean was suicidal: "I'm closing the gates. It's a suicide mission for you. [...] I want to slam hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here, family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it."

Dean observed that Sam became suicidal over the course of The Trials and that this culminated in Sam forsaking his promise and his desire to live and falling into a tailspin where he wanted to die to make himself "pure". Disturbing dialogue from 8.21: "Knights of the Round Table. Had all of King Arthur's knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, and, and, and he was kneeling, and— and light streaming over his face, and— I remember... thinking, uh, I could never go on a quest like that. Because I'm not clean. I mean, I w— I was just a little kid. You think... maybe I knew? I mean, deep down, that— I had... demon blood in me, and about the evil of it, and that I'm— wasn't pure? [...] It doesn't matter anymore. Because these trials... they're purifying me."

Dean pleaded with Sam not to kill himself in 8.23, and Sam agreed, asking, "How do I stop?"

These are the details Dean has prior to Sam falling into a coma. He believes that his brother wanted to commit suicide, but that he did change his mind and decide he wants to live.

Two other notable details:

First, Gadreel earns Dean's trust quickly by risking his ass to help Dean, and then on the phone (after being given the fake name "Ezekiel") Cas, relieved and pleased, vouches for Ezekiel. So Dean has no reason to suspect anything nefarious (and in fact, at this point, Gadreel doesn't have particularly nefarious intentions besides staying in hiding away from other angels).

Second, Dean is not the one who pleads with Sam to live in the dream sequence, getting him to say "Yes". It can't be Dean, because 1) "Dean's" face morphs into Gadreels which is clearly intended to indicate to us that this wasn't Dean speaking 2) If Gadreel was somehow projecting the real Dean into the conversation to give that speech, then Gadreel wouldn't be the one receiving the consent. It would truly be Dean receiving it and not just Gadreel pretending. Those words HAVE to come from Gadreel's mouth for the possession to work—not Dean's. We've seen angels morph into loved ones and mimic their voices perfectly several times.

With all that in mind:

After Gadreel pitches his plan to possess Sam, Dean immediately says it isn't his call to make—it's Sam's. It's after Gadreel shows him Sam falling back into the same suicidality from 8.23—wanting to die so that "no one else can get hurt because of me"—that Dean wavers. Still—at the end of the day, whether Sam agrees to live or not was never Dean's choice, and this is something I often see people get mixed up about. Dean doesn't get to choose whether Sam dies or not. It is still Sam who chooses to live. Sam does this by saying "Yes" to Gadreel. This could not have happened if Sam hadn't changed his mind about living. He doesn't know he's going to be possessed, but he has once again beaten back his suicidality and chosen to live. Sam still had hope in a good future.

Sam chose to live. He did not know he was going to be possessed. That's the issue. However, Dean did not intend to keep Gadreel's possession from Sam after it happened. Dean and Gadreel have this conversation upon leaving the hospital:

DEAN So? How's it look in there? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY Not good. There is much work to be done. DEAN Yeah, but he's gonna wake up, right? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY He will. DEAN So, what he does – what, is he gonna feel you inside, triaging his spleen? EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY He will not feel me, no. There is no reason for Sam to know I'm in here at all. DEAN You're joking. No, this is – this is too big. EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY And what will he do if you do tell him he is possessed by an angel? DEAN Well, he'll have to understand.

This conversation suggests that Dean's initial thought process was "We perform supernatural life-saving surgery". He just wanted to get Sam to a point where he'd wake up and they could talk. Like any situation with a relative in a coma, that person in a coma can't consent to surgery. The next of kin is the one who gives consent, because their loved one can't. They can only consent to a procedure if awake to do so. So Dean doesn't stop Gadreel from performing life saving surgery, but his intial belief and intent is that they'll put all of this back in Sam's hands when he's awake.

Up to this point, I don't actually have a problem with what Dean's done based on his knowledge. It's here at the end of the episode, where Gadreel convinces Dean to depart from his intial intent and stall, that in my opinion, the "Dean doing something wrong" part starts:

EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY And if he does not? Without his acceptance, Sam can eject me at any time, especially with me so weak. And if Sam does eject me, he will die. DEAN Then we keep it a secret for now. Or until Sam's well enough that he doesn't need an angelic pacemaker or I find a way to tell him. I - I... As for him being in a hospital, I'll have to figure something out. EZEKIEL IN SAM’S BODY I can erase it all, if you like. He will not remember any of this.

Dean doesn't feel good about it, but he agrees to keep quiet, because he's scared Sam will yet again make a suicidal play. Dean is riddled with guilt in the following episodes over lying to Sam, and in 9.08, Dean tries to tell Sam he's possessed, but Gadreel takes over Sam's body and stops him. Dean comes clean again in 9.09, only for Gadreel to stop Sam from receiving the news again.

So. Dean's mistake is lying to Sam. He shouldn't have lied to him. Point blank. At the same time, had Dean pushed the issue, would Gadreel have been willing to be expelled? Would he ever have allowed Dean to tell Sam the truth, from the moment he was... installed? Or was Dean screwed from the beginning, and was the idea that he got to choose any of this—any bit of it—really just... an illusion to keep Dean compliant with the possession that was keeping Gadreel under the radar?

Think about it for a second. Why did Gadreel ask Dean's permission? He didn't ever need Dean's permission to do any of this. He didn't need Dean's permission to trick Sam. He didn't need Dean's permission to remove Sam's memory of the hospital. He didn't need Dean's permission to keep the fact that he was possessing Sam a secret. He could have done every bit of this without asking. The problem was, Dean probably would have caught onto the disappearing angel act, and Gadreel would have had to get violent, and for the first part of season 9, Gadreel doesn't want to get violent! He just wants a place to lay low, and sees an opportunity to prove he's a good angel who helps humans—not just the angel who let the serpent into the garden. Getting Dean's "consent" might ease his own conscience about nonconsensual possession or be a way to keep Dean compliant or both, but ultimately, these are more questions worth weighing imo, because Supernatural loves to toy with the illusion that Dean has power in situations where he doesn’t, and in this case, he doesn't... actually have any power at all... does he?

That said, when it comes right down to it, Dean still did something wrong by helping keep the secret—by not trying to tell Sam the truth immediately because he was scared. And well. Okay. So what?

This is a show with characters who have good intentions but still make mistakes. As Cas will say about this later, "You were stupid for the right reasons". We get some great insights into the pitfalls that lead Dean down this path, and it's interesting to watch that happen and then later, see a broken mirror as Sam endeavors to prove through season 10 what Dean is willing to do can't touch what Sam is ultimately willing to do to keep Dean around.

Here's the thing—I don't believe for a single second that Sam wouldn't do the exact same thing in 9.01 had their positions been reversed. Sam and Dean have a conversation along these lines at the end of 9.13 "The Purge":

DEAN All right, you want to be honest? If the situation were reversed and I was dying, you'd do the same thing. SAM No, Dean. I wouldn't. Same circumstances...I wouldn't. 

This genuinely wounds Dean and gets brought up a few times, but then in 9.23 when it's brought up for the last time in another context:

DEAN What happened with you being okay with this? SAM I lied.

Sam never gets the chance to do the exact same thing to Dean, but he has already gone behind Dean's back to try and save his life before. He's used Dean's death to justify doing things Dean begged him not to do on his behalf. He kept the case they were actually on under wraps as he inched toward a plan to turn himself and Dean into Frankenstein's monsters in 3.15 (and really the only reason it didn't work is that Sam got captured by Doc Benton and Dean had to save his ass, and then Sam morosely helped dig the grave). Sam went behind Dean's back directly against his wishes to threaten a crossroad's demon in 3.05. In season 10, he violates Dean's consent by removing the Mark of Cain from Dean's arm using the Book of the Damned, which not only requires an overt human sacrifice of Oskar and gets a woman named Suzie killed in "The Werther Project" because Sam refuses to heed her warnings, but also results in the apocalypse... and all of this was something Dean asked Sam not to do, and Sam did every bit of it to get his brother back, and while standing in the wreckage in 11.01, echoed Dean's line from 9.13, saying, "I would do it again". Dean signed the supernatural possession next-of-kin consent form, and the fallout was Kevin and Sam. Sam violated Dean's consent and tens of thousands of people died and he said he'd do it again while they died around him.

[wordsarelife]

lockwood & co masterlist

fluff (f), angst (a), suggestive (s), platonic (p), injury/ blood (w)

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❛ 𝐢’𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ❜

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𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰��𝐨𝐝 (34.9k)

blank space (0.7k) — normally lockwood can hide his feelings quite well. that talent seems to fade every time someone tries to flirt with his y/n (f,s)

peace (0.5k) — y/n is all that Lockwood needs, especially in the quiet moments (f,a)

sweet nothing (0.8k) — eating breakfast in bed (f)

stay, stay, stay (1.3k) — you never leave a fight unresolved (f,a)

delicate (0.5k) — some flirty banter in a near death situation (f,s)

king of my heart (1.8k) — there was always this flirty banter between you, without anything ever happening. one day you grow tired of it and leave lockwood to make a choice (f,a,s)

treacherous (1.3k) — How can it be that two people who grew up together hate each other so much? lockwood and you find out that love and hate are closer together than you had thought (f,a,s)

cruel summer (1.3k) — there’s just one bed, luckily you are the most brilliant person lockwood knows… or are you? (f,s)

you belong with me (1.6k) — you have to flirt to finish a mission. much to the dismay of lockwood you are far too good at it (f,s)

the way I loved you (pt 2 of ybwm) (1.2k) — lockwood is protective of what is his and in his own definition, you belong to him (f,a,s)

london boy (1.0k) — lockwood and you finish a study about what defines the greatness of a kiss (f,s)

it's nice to have a friend (0.3k) — you pass out after a dangerous encounter with a ghost (a,f,w)

enchanted (1.0k) — lockwood and you have been in love ever since you first met and it's been quite obvious for anyone else, but you two (f)

seven (sibling!reader) (0.5k) — a mission went badly and you and your brother console each other (f, a, p)

i did something bad (1.2k) — gathering information from a tied up and horny teenage boy should be easy enough, right? (s)

i think he knows (1.3k) — you have to admit your feelings for lockwood after your heartbeat goes through the roof at his touch (f)

change (1.4k) — lockwood realizes how much he missed of his sisters, the reader, life (a,f,p,w)

back to december (1.4k) — you had left lockwood in a night filled with regret and there was nothing you wanted more than to apologise to him (a,f,p)

the best day (0.4k) — domestic fluff with anthony lockwood (f)

the last time (1.1k) — you always try to save your friends life at the expanse of your own. this time you might've gone too far (a,p)

my tears ricochet (1.4k) — you save lockwoods life on a job but he can't save you.. but with a twist (a,w,f)

it's beginning to look a lot like christmas (0.5k) — lockwood is as cooky as usual, luckily you are used to it by now (f,s)

driving home for christmas (0.4k) — in which you come home for christmas surprisingly and lockwood can proof that his girlfriend is real (f)

the very first night (0.7k) — you celebrate your birthday for your friends only, lockwood celebrates your birthday for you (f,a,p)

lavender haze (1.2k) — despite kipps best efforts to keep you away from each other, lockwood won't stop flirting with you (f)

all american bitch (3.4k) — everbody knew that there was something wrong in the way your brother talked to you and lockwood wouldn't let you accept it any longer (f,a,s)

pretty isn’t pretty (0.8k) — he was showering you in compliments all while you felt like you weren’t pretty enough (f,a)

i forgot that you existed (0.6k) — lockwoods sibling had a bad day at school (f,p)

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𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐦 (8.2k)

daylight (0.6k) — early morning cuddles with your boyfriend (f)

mastermind (2.3k) — the team has to work together with kipps, for george that means being stuck with the best friend of the blonde leader, y/n. the only person in the whole world that seemed to be smarter than him, that's why he hated her. (a,f)

love story (0.8k) — hiding a relationship becomes a challenge when your bosses are lockwood and kipps, but y/n and george always seem to manage anyway… (f)

i knew you were trouble (0.7k) — you expressed your likeness for george all the time.. seems like he finally gets it (f)

ours (0.3k) — george tries to make reader go to bed (f)

mirrorball (0.7k) — george has been struggling and you help him (a,f)

fearless (1.7k) — george admires you deeply. not only because you're his girlfriend, but because you have an extraordinary gift (f/a)

snowman (1k) — a situation in which you are trapped, causes george and you to confess (f)

teenage dream () — one part of you loved fighting ghosts and doing your jobs, the other isn’t so sure if that’s really the right thing for you (a)

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𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐬 (7.8k)

i know places (1.6k) — all hell breaks loose when your brother finds out about you and quill (f,s)

paper rings (1.5k) — you & quill are basically married, but when will he finally ask? (f)

today was a fairytale (1k) — you and quill go on your first date (f,s)

gold rush (0.8k) — loving quill kipps feels like a gold rush (f,a)

santa tell me (1.2k) — you and quill had been the parents of the group for years, but nothing ever happened between the two of you. now it’s finally time to change that, or atleast your friends think it is (f)

santa clause is coming to town (0.2k) — you and quill know each other so well, you could almost finish each others sentences (f)

under the mistletoe (0.5k) — you and your boyfriend get caught under the mistletoe (f)

you need to calm down (0.4k) — you and quill wind down after a long day (f,w)

shake it off (1k) — quill and you play a prank on your brother and friends (f)

the moment i knew () — quill and you were a lot closer once, before everything suddenly changed and he was not there when you needed him most (a,f,w)

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𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 (5.5k)

anthony lockwood, illicit affairs series (5.5k) — your secret relationship might not be enough for the future you have ahead of you (a,s,f) one, two, three part four (ending: afterglow) part four (ending: closure)

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𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 (0.6k)

deck the halls (0.6k) — decorating cookies at portland row (f,p)

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53 works

[rosemariad]

SUPERNATURAL SEASON 15 - THE BITTER END - SERIES FINALE

We finally made it here.

Ooooooooh boy. 😬

The opening for THE series finale felt out of place to me.

You’re gonna waste minutes on this really?

How about a discussion about how they beat God, like they actually managed the impossible - 2 dudes just take the fight to the OG master & creator of the universe and won that shit with some plan they pulled outta their asses. Their surrogate child went on to become the next primordial being to reign over the universe. But no, we’re not gonna even talk about any of that.

Coulda done a million different things even with the COVID restrictions (the two actors in a room across a table, do whatever to keep them safe) but whatever 🤦🏾‍♀️

So after God comes vampires w/ masks? Really SPN?

The minute Dean slammed the Impala’s trunk shut after sundown made me nervous (that would be the last time he’s with his Impala, the last time he ever sees her w/ his own eyes 🥺😭)

Out of all the folks to pull outta the SPN peanut gallery you pick that random chick from 1x19?! Jenny?! Just to kill her off anyway (so I spoke too soon, vampJenny is the official last female to die on this show)

Ah…the nail of imminent demise

That final shot of Sam & Dean was toooo fucking intimate.

Suddenly the Wincest people aren’t so crazy. Why are y’all encouraging this?! Dude, they’re brothers!?! #brothersnotlovers. They could’ve done it like the end of Pearl Harbor where they got Ben Affleck crying over Josh Harnett’s body in the crash. Gimme weepy Sam, that Oscar moment. Dean died sooo young 🥺😒 younger than Mary (I know she was technically in her thirties but TBH she was 64/65), bobby, Rufus, Ellen & John. This is why we can’t have nice things😔

Cas is gonna be so saaaad. He always fought so hard for Dean's sake, only for the guy to die so young…it’s an insult - an outrage really. Dean fought so hard for so long only for him to say - it was always gonna end this way?! 😡

He didn’t have to make it to old age (though he deserved to) but don’t let him die like this. All accepting so soon after resolving the meta plot 😔 there were things Dean probably wanted to do and now, he’ll never get his chance. He could’ve settled down with someone (it wouldn’t have been Cas since he got killed off already but shit I would’ve settled for Dean to settle with anyone for a minute, like Sam did) - also would’ve been nice to hear from Jody or Donna and others one last time but hey fuck the side characters 🤣 (oh COVID the scapegoat that keeps on giving - it’s like the showrunners forgot the convenience of modern technology).

So Chuck definitely won - he's no longer burdened by having to deal w/ the universe and one of the Winchesters died anyway. Not exactly as planned but they never broke free, not really. I totally subscribe to this theory. Especially since it’s alluded to that Dean Jr - Sam’s son - is a hunter also at the time of Sam’s death by old age (we think…I’m just saying that’s an awful not of tubes and stuff for the old man, maybe just to monitor his heart rate/health - eh)

The Sam wig is bad but eh - doesn’t bother me - we’re talking about a CW show wrapping up a project, it’s not the end of the world people, the plot is what matter s and the plot here is a fucking shit show my lord. It’s not the first show to suffer a shit ending to a show that captivated worldwide audiences but damn this is a bummer.

Especially since it’s alluded to that Dean Jr - Sam’s son - is a hunter also at the time of Sam’s death by old age (we think…I’m just saying that’s an awful not of tubes and stuff for the old man, maybe just to monitor his heart rate/health - eh) But yay for Sam apparently - couldn’t think of a better name for your son than Dean Jr.? It only makes sense to make the kid a junior if it was Dean’s actual kid, like Dean would’ve been Dean Sr. And his boy would’ve been Dean Jr. or Dean W. The II. And and hello there women whose face we don’t get to see (really committing to limiting women’s presence in the show - again probably blaming in on COVID but if you have a literal baby with this giant man, you can chance a woman being there in an actual camera shot where we can see her face 🙄) Back to Dean - again cuz of COVID? I guess - we don’t get to see him reunite with anyone (not his MOM even?) except Bobby for like 1 second and then he’s just driving around in his car. No roadhouse, no fishing, nothing but sitting in his car, alone killing time until Sam inevitably returns to him.

Oh what a shame…

So that happened I guess. SPN was something else, for better or worse. Probably never gonna get a show like that again. They tried it with the Winchesters spin off about a supposed alternate universe MaryxJohn thing and friends but honestly if its not about the Winchesters brothers or Destiel who cares 🤣 they pretty much wrapped up Sam & Dean’s stories thanks to this finale but Dean (per the Winchesters flop) could be brought back into the fray somehow if they wanted - but hey that’s what fanfiction’s for 😁

Well SPN it’s been interesting…sort of.

On that note…

I wanna thank the fans of the show, your hot takes, memes and general fervor over this show/story is what finally made me watch it all. Cuz I remember the TV spots from back in the day, cruising the CW channel on weeknights after school. I was too busy watching other shows to give SPN a chance while it aired. So thank you 🙏🏽

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Once Upon A Grimm (2/?)

Summary: The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. Many, like the Grimm brothers, had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions. Creatures known as wesen. Supernatural, other-worldly beings who have always lived among humans and have always been hunted by those who had come to be known as Grimms. A struggle of secrecy, balance, and power among these species has existed since the beginning of time. This is a story of a man with his own struggle. The internal struggle of being a human, a wesen, and a Grimm, and the external forces that seek to eradicate one or all of his natures, especially those he tries to keep hidden. Fortunately, Killian Jones is not alone in his struggles nor his secrets. His personal savior, Emma Swan, has secrets and struggles of her own.

A/N: This fic is inspired by and will borrow from the NBC show Grimm. I confess I did not watch Grimm when it first aired, but absolutely fell in love with the show during a binge fest years later. If you have not seen the show, no worries! My beta - who has not seen the show either - assures me that it is not necessary. If you have seen the show, then I hope you’ll forgive the huge creative license I am taking with the material. This is not a strict Grimm retelling with Once characters. This is my own spin on the lore and cannon of both shows.

Sorry I am so late with this update. I underestimated how demanding real life was gonna be now that we are back in full swing with school. I'll do my best to stay on track going forward!

I cannot express how much I have enjoyed being a part of the @cssns all these years. Thank you to the mods who have kept it going year after year. We've had a terrific run! Huge shout out to @kmomof4 for always being my cheerleader and for her exceptional beta skills. A HUGE thank you and many fangirl squeals to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the amazing job she did on the cover art that accompanies this fic. Please go show her some love!

FYI: Because the show took cues from the Grimm brothers’ works, much of the vocabulary associated with the supernatural creatures was based on German or German coded language. For words like wesen and woge (which will be explained in the text) the w is pronounced with a v sound on the show. I’ll be using terminology from the show and more common creature names interchangeably within the fic.

Rated E (eventually) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  / Prologue

Chapter One

Two and Half Years Later…

“What have we got?”

Killian approached the scene with his partner, Robin. Their mate and uniformed officer, Will, brought them up to speed, keeping his voice low as the men conversed on the walkway that led to the grand house towering before them.

“Grace Hatter. Eight years old. Never made it to school this morning,” Will informed them, reading over his notes. “Father says she left the house at a quarter to eight like usual. An hour later he got the call from the school telling him she was absent.”

“Do we know if he’s clean?” Killian asked, assessing the distraught man who was being questioned by other officers.

“No,” Will replied. “Dad’s name is Jefferson Hatter. We're looking into him.”

“Mom?”

“Deceased.”

“Okay. Thanks, mate. We’ll go have a talk with him.”

Killian and Robin continued up the walkway. When the father caught sight of them, he rushed down the front steps to meet them halfway.

“Are you the detectives?”

“Yes, sir,” Robin responded. “Detectives Locksley and Jones. Can you tell us more about your daughter? When you last her? What she was wearing?”

“Yeah, um…” The man took a moment to try and compose himself. His hand shook as he brought it up to run down his face. A shuddering breath filled his lungs and a sob caught in the back of his throat. “She uh, she left here about 7:45. She’s wearing purple leggings and an oversized, purple top that has a white rabbit on the front of it. She also had on a red hoodie and her backpack is pink and purple with her name on it.”

“Does she often walk by herself to school?”

The man, Jefferson, nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “Ever since the beginning of the school year. She wanted… She wanted to be a big girl this year.” He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the freshly fallen tears drops from his face. “I was reluctant, but the school isn’t far and normally she walks with another little girl and her brother down the block.”

“But not today?” Killian inquired.

“No,” Jefferson answered. “Ava and her brother are both out sick this week. Grace walked alone yesterday, so I didn’t see an issue with her walking alone again today.” His face reddened, the tears now cascading down his cheeks as he pleaded, “Please. You have to find my little girl, please!”

“We’re going to do everything we can,” Robin promised him, digging a card from his pocket. “An officer is going to stay with you as we canvas the neighborhood, but if you think of anything else, give us a call.”

“Th-Thank you, detectives,” Jefferson said, taking the card then following one of the officers back to the house.

“So, what do you think?” Robin said under his breath as they turned back towards the street and surveyed their surroundings.

“If he’s involved then he’s an excellent actor,” Killian replied. “I think it more likely she was grabbed on her way to school. The question is… where?”

The street was lined with houses on one side, facing a wooded park area. The little girl would have made her way to the end of the block then turned to go around the woods. The school was located on the other side, about seven blocks away.

“We’ve spoken with all the neighbors who are home along the route she would have taken,” Will said, joining the detectives. “No one saw anything.”

“Maybe she didn’t take the usual route,” Killian said, jutting his chin towards the woods. “Maybe she took a shortcut.”

“Dad was very specific about the route,” Will told him. “He said Grace wasn’t allowed to cut through the woods.”

“Yeah, and we all know you did everything you were told when you were a kid,” Robin quipped, slapping Will on the back before heading towards the woods.

The three of them followed the worn path, carved out of the foliage by those who had used the woods as a shortcut over the years. Although focused on the task before him, Killian could not help but acknowledge how fortunate he was to do this job with his two best mates at his side.

It had been a series of unfortunate events that had led them here. Two and half years ago, he and Robin had been uniformed officers at different precincts and Will, after washing out of the academy years before, owned a local bar. After being attacked and having his life, once again, turned upside down, Killian had spiraled a bit. Neglectful of his duty and spending too much time at Will’s bar had made him a less than stellar candidate for detective, despite his high scores on the exam. However, everything changed once more the night Will’s bar went up in flames.

Though it had been deemed arson, they still weren’t sure how it had happened. The explosion and fire claimed the lives of more than a dozen officers and detectives from both Storybrooke and Glowerhaven. In the aftermath, personnel had been reshuffled, reassigned, and reevaluated, giving Killian a second chance at a detective slot and transferring Robin to the Storybrooke precinct. Will, determined to bring the perpetrator to justice, had reapplied to the academy and finished top of his class before being assigned to the Storybrooke PD.

Although the arson case had gone cold, Killian and Robin, with an assist from their favorite uniformed patrolman, had managed to garner the highest number of closed cases of any rookie or veteran detectives within the city or its outlying suburbs. Robin often joked that the reason the three of them were so good at this job was because in another life they would have been criminals themselves - and therefore knew how their perps thought - dubbing themselves the pirate, the bandit, and the thief.

Of course, he had no idea that Killian possessed abilities beyond those of a normal human detective which gave him an advantage. Abilities he was currently applying in the hopes of bringing this little girl home safely.

When the trail forked, the trio branched off in separate directions. Once out of sight from his mates, Killian crouched down and closed his eyes, homing in on the sounds around him as he inhaled deeply. Over the years he’d made peace with his wolf side. It wasn’t always easy to keep the wesen reined in, or explain away how he’d been able to accomplish some of the things his supernatural abilities allowed him to do, but as time went on he found ways to balance his human and wesen side.

Not able to pick up anything out of the ordinary, Killian resumed his search further up the path. A moment later, Robin’s voice called out.

“I’ve got something!”

Killian rushed towards Robin’s voice, arriving alongside an out of breath Will. Both men were too focused on the pink and purple backpack laying among the ferns to notice Killian’s lack of exertion.

“Grace Hatter.” Will read the name where it had been monogrammed in bright pink, confirming it belonged to their missing girl. “She must have been grabbed somewhere in this area.”

“Careful where you step,” Killian reminded them. “Will, call it in and inform the others that we have a crime scene in Wonderland Woods Park across from the victim’s house.”

Will stepped away to radio it in, leaving the detectives to peruse the area.

“Killian, we got boot prints here. They look fresh.”

Killian noted the direction of the prints and commented, “He took her this way.” Setting off down the path, he shouted over his shoulder, “Stay with Will until CSU arrives. I’ll see where the prints lead.”

Once out of sight, Killian crouched down again and took in a deep breath. The hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and a primal growl rumbled in the center of his chest. He could tell the scent was wesen, although he wasn’t sure what species. There was something vaguely familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

Never before, since his transition, had he ever wished for the moon to be in its full cycle. If it were, then his sense of smell would be stronger. He’d be able to discern the little girl’s scent better, as well as her abductor’s, and he’d be able to tell which direction the two had gone once they’d reached the road on the other side of the woods.

Cursing under his breath, Killian made his way back to Robin and Will. The Crime Scene Unit had already arrived and the area was being cordoned off so they could work making casts of the boot prints. Killian eyed Grace’s backpack as it was being bagged and tagged so it could be processed for fingerprints. He wished he’d gotten a chance to scent it, but the K-9 unit was already seeing to the task.

“There isn’t much more we can do here,” Robin told him. “Will and the other officers will follow up on the neighbors they didn’t get a chance to speak with earlier. Maybe one of their security cameras will have caught them coming out of the park.”

“Aye,” Killian said with a resigned sigh.

Clapping Killian on the back, Robin suggested, “Let’s go get some lunch. By the time we’re done, more evidence will have been collected and processed, then we can focus on whatever they found.”

“I suppose I could eat,” Killian relented. Robin was right. There was nothing more they could do that the other officers didn’t already have handled. They’d need their strength and their wits about them for the long afternoon and evening ahead. “Where did you have in mind?”

“How about Aesop’s?”

Killian cocked a brow his partner’s way. “Aesop’s? A bit swanky for lunch isn’t it?”

Robin shrugged. “I hear they have a great burger menu.”

“Mhmm,” Killian hummed. Something in Robin’s demeanor had him dubious as to whether that was the real reason. “I suppose we could check it out,” he replied with a shrug of his own, followed by a wolfish grin. “So long as you’re buying.”

~/~

“So that’s the real reason you wanted to come here,” Killian ribbed in a sing-song tone. “The lovely and elusive Miss Mills.”

Robin’s cheeks flamed pink behind the bun of his burger as he took as long as he possibly could to bite off then chew a mouthful.

“You know this constitutes stalking, right? Why not just ask her out?”

Robin swallowed and chased the bite with a sip of water, once again taking his time running his napkin over his mouth before placing it back in his lap.

“You’re hopeless,” Killian exasperated, getting up from his seat. He shot a wink over his shoulder to his mortified partner as he approached the nearby table, teeming with lawyers in their power suits. “Miss Mills?” he said in a feigned tone of surprise.

“Detective Jones,” she said in a friendly yet reserved greeting. “Funny running into you here?”

“Aye,” he said. “The lunch burger menu was recommended to Robin and me, so we thought we’d give it a go.” He gestured back towards the table Robin was metaphorically trying to hide beneath. Miss Mills - Regina - gave him a wave which he awkwardly reciprocated. “I won’t keep you,” Killian continued. “I was on my way to the facilities when I spotted you and just wanted to say hello. Enjoy your lunch.”

“Thank you, detective. A pleasure seeing you,” she replied, though her attention was not set on him but rather still subtly fixated on his partner.

When Killian exited the lavatory hall on his way back to the table, he slowed his steps and his lips twitched up in a smile. Robin and Regina were standing at the table conversing as the prosecutor’s colleagues were filing past, on their way out the door. Regina slipped Robin her card, her painted lip caught between her teeth, and he accepted it with a full, bright smile. Killian chuckled to himself, eager to take the mickey out of his friend, when something in Regina’s countenance shifted.

She’d turned towards the door, prepared to follow her colleagues, when her entire body went rigid. Something rippled through her expression and Killian was taken aback by what he saw.

She woged.

Regina Mills was… a hexenbeist?

No. He had to be seeing things. She couldn’t have woged. If she had, the entire restaurant would be in an uproar, especially Robin. There’s no way anyone would have missed the gruesome sight of a hexenbeist revealing her true form. Unless…

No. That wasn’t a possibility either. The full moon wasn’t in cycle yet, so there was no way he could have witnessed a demi-woge. Could he?

Regina’s features returned to normal, but her posture was still stiff and on guard. He followed her eyes to try and determine what had prompted such a response and was stunned to see another woged hexenbeist casually standing by the hostess stand. She had flaming red hair and was dressed in a tight, green dress. When her human face presented itself once more, she wore a smug, slightly challenging smirk.

Finally collecting herself, Regina marched past the woman without a word or backward glance, but the red-haired witch watched her all the way out the door and down the block.

“Did you see that?”

Robin’s question shook Killian from his shock, but a fresh, confused panic spiked within him. “See what?”

“The text,” Robin said, lifting his phone for Killian to see. “We’ve got a body.”

“A body?” Killian parroted, attempting to get his racing heart under control while processing what his partner said.

He didn’t see it, then. Didn’t see them change. Then why did I?

“Not Grace Hatter?” Killian’s heart dropped a little as his mind finally caught up.

“No,” Robin assured him. “Not the missing girl, but the captain wants us to take point on this one, too.” He beckoned Killian to follow him through the tables towards the exit. “I’ve already settled the bill. Will’s waiting for us at the scene.”

Before heading out the door, Killian scanned the restaurant for the red-headed hexenbeist, but saw no sign of her. He tried to shake off the unnerving feeling her and Regina’s woge had elicited in him. The mystery of why he had been able to see it at all would have to wait. He had more pressing issues to concern himself with.

~/~

“Are you sure this is even a homicide?” Killian heard Will ask under his breath. “Looks more like an animal attack?”

For the second time that day, Killian’s hackles rose. The scene before him was familiar. Too familiar. He could remember, as though it were yesterday, making the same inquiry to the detectives working a similar scene. A scene that had led to Killian being attacked and transformed. A scene that had been declared an animal attack after the DNA had come back as inconclusive. A scene where no other evidence had been left behind except…

“We got a boot print!”

Killian’s entire body reacted in a ripple of goose bumps and a sharp inhale confirmed the truth as a familiar scent penetrated his sinuses.

It’s him! He’s back. The blutbad who attacked me. The blutbad who made me. He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s killed again and… HE’S TAKEN GRACE HATTER!

“Oi! Kill, er… detective. You alright?”

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, mate.”

Killian’s Apple apple bobbed painfully. “We need to go see the Captain. Now.”

It was a quick ride back to the precinct, though Killian’s silent stewing had probably made it feel longer to his partner. Robin knew him well enough to not pepper him with questions when he was like this, allowing him space to get his thoughts together. It didn’t mean his mate didn’t side-eye him with furtive glances the entire way back to the station, though.

“Captain Gold, do you have a minute?” Killian asked at the open doorway of their captain’s office.

“For my two best detectives? Of course,” Captain Gold said, gesturing them forward. “How’s the investigation going into the missing girl? Or is this about the body we found? A jogger who was a student at the local university?”

“Actually,” Killian hedged, still unsure how he was going to convince his captain and his partner of what he knew to be fact. “It may be about both.”

“Go on.”

Killian and Robin took a seat in front of the captain’s desk. Leaning forward, Killian began to fill them in on what he’d pieced together.

“A little over two years ago, there was a hiker who was attacked in a similar fashion to how we found the jogger today.”

“I remember,” Gold said, nodding his head. “That was ruled an animal attack, wasn’t it?”

“Aye,” Killian said. “The DNA was inconclusive, but that wasn’t the only evidence left at the scene.” Flicking his eyes towards Robin, he said, “There was a boot print. Just like the one at the scene today. And that’s not all…” Sitting back, Killian wiped his hand down his face and let go a heavy breath. “The same day the hiker was attacked and killed, a little girl went missing in Glowerhaven.” Robin’s eyes widened and Killian knew he didn’t need reminding, but the Captain still needed to know. “I know because Robin helped work that case and we were mates back then.” Setting his attention back on his captain, Killian continued. “Look. I’m not saying all these cases are connected, but we did find boot prints where we suspect Grace Hatter was abducted, and it all feels a little suspect to just be coincidence.”

Captain Gold tented his fingers in front of him, and his eyes narrowed at Killian. “I’m inclined to agree,” he said, after a few agonizing seconds. “It’s all too coincidental to not look into.” His eyes shifted to Robin. “Locksley, reach out to Glowerhaven and see if you can get a copy of the missing girls file from two years ago. Check it for any similarities to the Grace Hatter case. Jones,” he continued, focusing his attention back on Killian. “Follow-up on the boot print. See if the one from the hiker’s scene matches the jogger’s, then compare it to the ones we found at the abduction site.” With a dismissing nod, he added, “Keep me informed.”

“Yes, Captain,” the two detectives replied on their way out of Gold’s office.

“How did you put all of that together?” Robin asked. “Remembering that girl from more than two years ago who went missing the same day a hiker was mauled? I don’t think I would have put that together.”

“I don’t know,” Killian deflected. “Something about that night just… stuck with me, I guess.”

“Well, good pick up,” Robin said, clapping him on the back. “I’m gonna call GPD, then head over to collect those files. Check in later?”

“Aye,” Killian told him. “Later.”

It took Killian less time to confirm the boot prints were a match at all three scenes than it did for Robin to make it back with the files. Although it proved the crimes may be connected, the boots that matched the prints were a very common brand. It would be nearly impossible to find their suspect that way. Frustrated, Killian shot off a text to Robin and Will, letting them know he was gonna go out for some air.

There had to be a way of finding this monster.

Not that he hadn’t already tried. He’d gone back to the scene of the hiker’s mauling time and time again in search of any clues, hoping to discover the identity of the killer and the wesen who had turned him. Once the case had been cleared from homicide, investigators believing a wolf or mountain lion had caused the grizzly death, there had been little Killian could do inside the law. He’d been too preoccupied with the changes he was facing as a newly made wesen to pursue the blutbad on his own, and too worried about what his brother’s reaction might have been if he’d turned the case over to a Grimm. A Grimm who might have been able to detect such changes in his little brother.

Now, he couldn’t help but feel as though the jogger’s death and the missing girl were his fault. He should have told Liam about the rogue blutbad or gone after it himself.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake this time.

Digging his phone from his pocket, Killian dialed his brother’s number and held his breath as the call rang.

This is Liam Jones. I’m not available to take your call. Leave me a message.

“Liam. It’s Killian. Call me back. I’ve got a situation here that might require your expertise.”

Typical.

Killian’s phone vibrated in his hand. He glanced at the screen, expecting it to be Liam returning the call. Instead, the caller ID displayed Will’s name. Killian knew he’d been pouring over videos collected from neighborhood cameras, and he was eager to hear if he’d found anything that might help them locate the missing girl.

“Will? What you got?”

“Not much,” Will confessed over the phone. “I’ve checked all the cameras we collected from Tweedle Drive, the street the perp would have exited the woods from, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Nothing?” Killian asked, defeated. “From the whole street?”

“Well, there’s a bit we don’t have footage of, but none of the videos show any car, truck, or van he may have used to move the girl. The only vehicle on the street at that time was the mail truck.”

“The mail truck?” Killian repeated, an idea coming to him. “Do me a favor. Find out who was working that route today and whether the postal service issues a certain type of boot for their employees' uniforms.”

“You think it was the postman?”

“It’s the only lead we’ve got,” he told Will. “If nothing else, the postal worker may have seen something. We should track them down as a potential witness.”

“I’ll get right on it.”

“Text me the name when you’ve got it.”

“Will do.”

A renewed rush of hope filled Killian as he made his way back to the precinct, but it was hindered by a fresh realization.

If the postal worker did turn out to be their suspect, then he wouldn’t be going up against their usual perp. He’d be going up against a wesen. A blutbad. And not just any blutbad… his sire. The one who had turned him. Would he know? Even without the full moon bringing out his wesen characteristics, would his sire be able to tell what he was?

Killian stopped short of the station door and did an about face. He needed to better prepare himself for this confrontation, and there was only one person who would be able to help him do so.

Searching his contacts as he made his way to his vehicle, he prayed this call would not go to voicemail.

His prayer was answered.

“Hello?”

“Swan. It’s me. I need your help.”

~/~

The fingers of her left hand drummed against the counter as the nails on her right were being assaulted by her teeth. Normally, Emma Swan would not allow a situation to unnerve her this way. Of course, it wasn’t the situation, not really, it was the man involved in the situation. The man who only came in once a month to pick up his wolfsbane tonic and share polite pleasantries with her or her brother, who assisted her at the shop. The man who had agreed to keep things between them strictly professional after the one time thing incident that had occurred early on in their association. The man who had kept to that promise… until now.

He wasn’t coming here for his tonic - the full moon was still over a week away. He wasn’t coming here for tea, or spices, or herbal remedies, or anything within the purview of her business. No. He was coming here because he needed help on a case. He was coming here because he had nowhere else to turn. He was coming here because he needed… her.

Although they had managed to keep one another at arm’s length these past two years, it hadn’t been that way at first. The month following his attack and introduction into the wesen world, they had texted and chatted numerous times, having built a rapport by the time of the next full moon.

A rapport that simmered with attraction and temptation.

Fortunately, they had both understood the seriousness underlying his stay with her during that first full moon. Setting aside the obvious chemistry between them, they focused instead on the alchemy of finding the right balance of wolfsbane. Everything had gone as expected… until it hadn’t.

“Emma, sweetie,” Granny said in her admonishing tone. “Are you trying to drive us both mad with your fidgeting?”

“Sorry, Granny,” Emma mumbled, removing her nail from her teeth and flattening both hands on the counter.

The elderly woman’s soft, weathered hand covered hers and she gave it a light, comforting squeeze. “What’s got you all riled up? You said he was a regular customer.” Her eyes narrowed and her head tilted to the side. “Is it because he’s a lycanthrope?” Patting Emma’s hand she assured, “I may not look it, but I can still hold my own. If he gets unruly, then--”

“No, it’s not like that,” Emma said, cutting the woman off in a rush, not wishing her to get the wrong impression. “Detective Jones is much more disciplined than lycanthropes are believed to be. He’s… he’s a good man.”

“Then why on earth are you worked up in such a state?” Granny inquired. “I can practically smell the anxiety and tension wafting off of you.”

Emma chewed her bottom lip, then silently cursed herself. Get a grip, Emma. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she straightened her posture and schooled her features. “It’s nothing.”

Granny let out a dubious hum. “Try again,” she said. “If you want me to help a lycanthrope - and a detective to boot - that has you all tied up in knots then you’re gonna have to give me a reason.”

Emma released a heavy sigh. She knew Granny was right. The woman was going out on a limb for her, the least she could do was give her the truth.

Given that she expected the detective to arrive at any moment, Emma quickly told Granny about her and Killian’s first meeting, and the subsequent month that had followed.

“Sounds like the two of you became fast friends,” Granny remarked, though Emma thought she could detect something slightly off in the woman’s tone. “What happened?”

Glancing at the door, Emma wasn’t sure if she was irritated or relieved that he hadn’t arrived yet. She’d never told anyone what had happened.

“He came to stay with me for the full moon, as planned,” she began.

“Here?” Granny asked, knowing the proprietor lived above her shop.

“Yes,” Emma confirmed. “In my spare room. I wanted us to be close to the workshop so I could make adjustments on the fly.”

“What do you mean?”

Swallowing, Emma told Granny about the experiments they did, testing the effectiveness of the wolfsbane. “Things like, provoking his temper and trying to elicit responses that were more primal,” she hedged, with half a shrug of her shoulder, “to see how well he could keep control under such stimuli.”

“And?” Granny prompted. “How did he do?”

“He did great,” Emma said, then winced slightly as she added, “Until August showed up.”

A knowing huff left Granny. “Yeah. I’d imagine the presence of another male might have set him off a bit. Did your brother come away unscathed?”

“Barely,” Emma replied. “Killian didn’t know who August was and when he saw him hugging me he… woged.”

“As in… fully?”

“Yeah.”

“That must have been intense for all of you.”

“It was,” Emma sighed. “I had to use magic to diffuse the situation, but once cooler heads prevailed and I was able to introduce the two of them, I thought things were resolved.”

“Until?”

Emma’s mind flashed back to the morning after he’d woged and tried to attack August. The morning after the final full moon.

“So… you made it through your first full moon.”

“Aye. Thanks to you, love.”

“No need to thank me,” she told him. “I should be thanking you.”

“For?”

“For not ripping out my idiot brother’s throat,” she said in a tone mixed with amusement and annoyance. “I told him not to come here this weekend, but does he listen?”

Killian hummed, a sultry, toe-curling sound, and sauntered forward. “Perhaps gratitude is in order then?” he murmured, tapping his lips suggestively with a raised brow and challenging smirk.

“Yeah,” she said, a little breathlessly. “That’s what the thank you was for.”

Another sinful sound echoed past his lips as he pressed further into her personal space. “Is that all your brother’s life is worth to you?”

“Please,” she scoffed with an eye roll, trying, and failing, to get her heart rate under control, knowing full well he could probably hear its erratic beat. “You couldn’t handle it.”

The corner of his lips lifted in a feral and taunting manner. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it.”

The crack of the t against his tongue reverberated through her, and without thought she grabbed the lapels of his jacket, fusing her mouth to his. It took him the briefest of seconds to respond, inhaling deeply before thoroughly devouring her.

It was hot. It was primal. It was all-consuming.

“That was…”

It was a big fucking mistake.

“A one time thing,” she murmured, pulling back from his chasing lips. “We… we can’t do this. I… I can’t do this.”

Releasing him, she took several steps back, unable to meet his eye or look upon his confused expression.

“Swan,” he panted, both of them still working to catch their breath. “Have I… Have I done something? I know attacking your brother was bad form. Please don’t think I’m unaware of the seriousness of that--”

“No, it’s… it’s not that,” she said. “I know you didn’t really have control over--”

“Then what?” he asked. “What’s changed?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma rocked back on her heels and said, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to… I mean… this is all new to you and the last thing we both need is to complicate an already complex situation. I think it would be best if we… kept things professional between us.”

She braced herself for his response, expecting him to be angry. Expecting him to accuse her of leading him on, or taking advantage of him while he was vulnerable. She hadn’t expected him to run a hand through his hair while letting go a heavy sigh before agreeing with her.

“Aye,” he said, softly. “Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps now is not the best time to…” Flicking his too blue gaze up to hers, he gave her an earnest smile. “I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Swan. I think I’ll be able to manage on my own now, thanks to you.”

“You’ll still need the tonic each month,” she reminded him with a slight edge of panic in her voice. She didn’t mean for their association to end altogether. “And you can still call or text me if you have questions about--”

“Thank you,” he interjected, cutting her off before she could continue with her offer. “I’ll swing in for the tonic in a month’s time. I’ll be sure to let you know if there are any issues regarding the treatment.” Reaching up, he pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear. “I, uh… I should go. I have a shift in an hour.”

“Right,” she said, letting him pass so he could collect his things from where he’d set them by the door. “See you next month?”

“Aye, Swan,” he said over his shoulder as he exited the shop. “See you then.”

“Only… I didn’t see him then,” she told Granny. “I chickened out and left the order with August.”

“Are you telling me,” Granny chastised, “that you haven’t seen that young man since--”

“No!” Emma replied, indignantly. “Of course I’ve seen him. We just… it’s been…” Another heavy sigh expelled out of her lungs. “After our… shared moment, I did avoid him for a bit and I know he struggled to cope with his transition, which made me feel worse about how we left things, but then there was this fire at his friend’s bar, and he made detective, and I don’t know… something about him changed. Things were less weird when he came in and we managed to carve out this nice, albeit superficial, relationship and yet--”

“The feelings are still there?”

Emma laughed a rather hysterical sounding laugh. “Uh, no. No feelings. I mean, obviously I care about him, as a person, but my current demeanor has nothing to do with feelings.”

“Oh? What does it have to do with, then?”

Emma didn’t get a chance to answer the woman’s smug question. The bell over the door chimed and the two women's heads snapped in its direction. In walked Killian Jones, as handsome and alluring as ever.

“Swan,” he greeted with a reverential nod. “Thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course,” she managed to choke out, her mouth having gone dry. Clearing her throat, she gestured towards Granny and introduced, “This is, uh, Granny Lucas. She runs the new B&B and diner up the street. I thought she might be able to help. Granny, this is Detective Jones.”

“Please,” he said, taking Granny’s hand and offering it a polite shake. “Killian will do.”

“A pleasure to meet you, detective,” Granny said, obviously sizing him up. “You’re not at all what I expected.”

“Meaning?”

Her gaze still assessing him, Granny quipped, “Most lycanthropes have me wanting to rip out their throats within seconds of meeting them, but you… you’re different.”

Killian’s brows shot up and his eyes flicked to Emma even as he continued to address Granny. “It seems you have me at a disadvantage,” he said a little too calmly. “You know about me, yet I have no idea why Swan brought you in on--”

“Granny’s a blutbad,” Emma blurted out, causing his brows to raise even higher as his head snapped back to the elderly woman. “I thought, seeing as you said your case had something to do with a blutbad, and that you needed more information about them, that you’d like to have your questions answered by someone who--”

“Not just any blutbad,” he said, cutting her off in a tone laced with menace and anger. “The blutbad.”

Emma gasped. “The one who turned you?”

“Aye.” His gaze turned dark and his features hardened. “He’s back and he’s killed again. He’s even taken a little girl captive.”

“That’s terrible,” Emma said, keeping herself from reaching out to offer him a hand of comfort. “When did you--”

“Today,” he told her, catching both women up on the case of the little girl and the jogger and how he’d connected them to the cases from over two years ago.

“We found matching boot prints at the crime scenes, but I also detected his scent at each location. I knew there was something familiar about it, but didn’t put it together until I smelled it mixed with the jogger’s blood. It brought back the olfactory memory of that night,” he said, momentarily getting lost in thought until he shook his head and added, “Of course… I can’t enter that into evidence. Fortunately, we have a lead, but I am wary of confronting him without knowing more.”

“More?” Granny said, her countenance a bit stand-offish and very imposing. “Like what?”

“Like,” Killian hedged, wetting his lips and taking a moment to assess Granny as she had him. “Whether I’ll be able to know him by scent even if he isn’t woged. Typically, I can’t detect wesen by scent whilst they’re in their human form or see them demi-woge unless it's the full moon, so I can only assume he was in full woge when he abducted the girl and attacked the jogger.”

Granny remained stoic and stone-faced, still unsure whether she should trust the gemacht wesen in front of her.

“Look,” Killian said with a tone of authority Emma imagined he employed often in his line of work. “I know there’s a code among wesen. This desire to look after one's own kind. But this guy is a killer. He’s killed two people that we know of and may, even now, be holding a little girl captive, so please. Help me find him. Help me find her.”

The reminder of the little girl softened Granny’s features. “If he’s done what you say he has, then he’s putting us all at risk.” Quickly, she flicked her gaze to Emma then back to him, conceding, “You’re right. There is a code among wesen, but it only extends so far. It sounds to me like this blutbad has gone feral, and his behavior is only going to escalate the longer he’s allowed to run wild.”

“Then… you’ll help me?”

Her posture relaxed further and she stepped up to the counter, bringing her closer to both Killian and Emma. Nodding, she said, “Yes, I’ll help you.”

A relieved breath fell from Emma’s lips and she took Granny’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Thank you, Granny.”

Granny patted her hand then straightened her shoulders, getting down to business. “Now, I’m no expert on lycanthropes, but unless he fully woges, I don’t think you’ll be able to tell whether your suspect is the blutbad you’re looking for. If he is feral, then it wouldn’t take too much to provoke a response, but you’d have to be ready. Once he woges… he’ll be out for blood.”

Emma saw a shudder pass over the detective and she wondered if he was remembering his own experience with an uncontrolled woge.

“What about the girl?” Killian asked. “What motive would he have for taking her?”

Granny pursed her lips together then hesitantly replied. “If he’s feral, and attacked someone before, then he’s likely gotten a taste for human blood.” Killian and Emma both grimaced, sickened by the notion. “I’d wager he attacked and fed on that jogger first. Probably lost control. He knows he’ll be good for another week until the urge takes hold again, but by then it’ll be the full moon and it’ll be risky for him to be out and about. He probably took the girl in preparation of making a meal of her later. Taking her now gives him time to fatten her up.”

Emma thought she might be sick, and while she could see the shared disgust in Killian’s face, she also saw rage.

Granny caught his eye and imparted, “Having her will make him even more territorial and dangerous. So you’ll need to be ready for anything.”

“Will he, uh…” Killian began, haltingly. “Will he be able to discern who I am? What I am?”

“No,” Granny said, shaking her head. “I only made that quip about lycanthropes because Emma had already told me what you are… and I wanted to see how you’d react. You ought to know by now that wesen can only sense you during the full moon.”

“Aye, but he isn’t just any wesen,” Killian countered. “He’s my maker. Are you sure that won’t have an effect?”

“I don’t see why it would.”

Killian’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, a reluctant question seemed to pause at the tip of his tongue.

“So there won’t be any… connection between us, then? No weird side effort of my turning that would make me sympathetic towards him or beholden in some way?”

Granny scoffed and cocked an amused brow at him. “Such sire bonds only exist in fiction.”

Killian’s head fell in relief and Emma could now detect how much tension he must have been carrying over that worry.

“Gemacht sometimes latch on to those who aid and guide them through their transition, and many times that is the wesen who turned them, so if you were to have bonded onto someone it would have been the person who was there for you at the beginning of and during your first change.”

Killian’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Emma’s. Her heart stuttered, then began pounding in her chest while her breath remained trapped in her lungs.

Granny’s gaze volleyed between the two of them, her heading tilting to one side as she quipped, “I suppose that explains the pent up tension I’ve been sensing between you two.” A warm smile lifted the corners of her mouth in response to their awkward reaction to the call out, and she assured them, “Don’t worry. The bond was temporary. I dare say enough time has passed that it would be gone altogether.” Her no nonsense demeanor returned as she focused her attention solely back on Killian and asked, “Anything else?”

Unsticking his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Killian cleared his throat and said, “Just one last thing… Do you know who this blutbad might be?”

“Afraid not,” Granny told him with obvious regret in not being able to provide him a name. “I only relocated to Storybrooke a few months ago, and I find it best to avoid my kind as much as possible.” Her eyes fell down to the counter and on a bit of a grumble she added, “Bad things happen when we get into a pack. Especially when we see red.”

Killian’s eyes went wide.

“What?” Emma asked. “What is it?”

Killian locked eyes with her once more. “The little girl. Grace. She was last seen wearing a red hoodie. And the jogger and hiker both had on red jackets when their remains were found.”

“So, red provokes him?” Emma said, shaking her head in confusion. “But you weren’t wearing red when he attacked you. You were in uniform.”

“Which,” Granny interjected, “along with your natural demeanor of dominance and authority, he would have seen as a threat.”

“Which means he’ll likely view me as a threat when I confront him.”

“Most likely,” Granny warned. She glanced at the clock on the wall, and Emma knew she needed to get going so she could get back to the diner before the evening rush. “My advice,” she said, rounding the counter on her way out. “When you do confront him, do it alone. You don’t want him to feel trapped or backed into a corner, and if things go badly…”

“Aye,” Killian agreed. “I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

Extending her hand, Granny offered him a sincere expression as he accepted the gesture. “Take care of yourself, Detective. I hope you can bring him to justice, but if not… bring him down any way you can.”

With that, she said a quick goodbye to Emma then exited the shop.

“Tough old bird,” Killian said in her wake, causing Emma to huff out an amused breath.

“Yeah. Granny is… something else.”

“Terrifying, I believe is the word you’re looking for,” he quipped with a light chuckle.

The two shared a laugh then stood awkwardly regarding one another for a long moment before Killian cleared his throat and said, “Um… thank you, Swan. I truly appreciate your help. I didn’t know who else to--”

“It was nothing,” Emma blurted out, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I mean… I was happy you called and that I could…”

Her words fell away and a wash of something akin to embarrassment or bashfulness swept over her. Her face was hot and her palms were starting to get slick.

You're being ridiculous, Emma. You’re not a silly school girl unsure of what to say to her crush. In fact… you don’t have a crush. This isn’t a crush. This is--

Killian’s phone chimed with a notification. Pulling it from his pocket, he checked the text and his grip tightened to the point that Emma feared he’d crack the screen.

“Killian? What is it?”

Slowly, Killian’s eyes lifted and met hers. The look that swirled in those blue depths made her breath hitch.

“We found him, Swan.” His voice was low, almost a growl, and it made the hair on the back of her neck stand in a way that caused her to shiver.

“Who is he?” she asked in a whisper, only vaguely aware that she was rounding the counter to move towards him.

His eyes never left hers and once she was standing before him, they flickered between her own as he answered. “His name is Quinn Adair. His address puts him outside of the city. Out in the woods.”

Emma swallowed hard as an eruption of worry filled her chest. “Are you… You’re not going to go after him now are you?”

“I have to, Swan,” he insisted. “He has Grace, remember? I have to get to her before he…”

Emma nodded, knowing that time was of the essence for that poor girl who was probably terrified out of her mind.

“Just… be careful?” she said, wetting her lips, which caused his gaze to drop down briefly. “And, um… Call me later so I know how it… so I know the girl is okay… and you.”

“Aye,” he said, pocketing his phone. “I will. I promise.”

She expected him to rush out after that, but he continued to stand there. Conflicted.

“Swan, I know this isn’t the time, but… what Granny said earlier. About us. About the bond that might have been created between us. Was that… Was that the reason you pulled away? Did you suspect?”

“Killian, I…” Emma didn’t know what to say. It would certainly be a plausible reason to give him. One that was safer than the truth.

It would be a lie, though.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, waving off the question and sparing her from having to answer. “As Granny said, whatever was going on between us at the time, it’s likely run its course, so…”

“So?”

Stepping forward, Killian grabbed her hand and lightly held it in his. A rush of goosebumps swept up her arm when his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“So… Maybe when this case is solved and things go back to relative normalcy, we could… try again?”

“Try again?” Emma parroted. A contradictory cocktail of hope, elation, dread, and panic collided within her as her good sense warred with her wants and desires.

“As friends, I mean,” he clarified, and in tamping down her own disappointment she missed the tone of it in his voice. “We had the start of something I was beginning to cherish and I miss…”

“Me, too,” she told him, turning her hand in his so she could give it a squeeze. Maybe it was reckless. She’d avoided close relationships all her life for a reason, and yet… “I’d love to start again. As friends.”

His smile took her breath away, but it was quickly schooled so he could focus on the dangerous task that lay before him.

“Do you want me to come with you?” she asked, filled with concern about him facing his maker alone. “I know Granny said not to make him feel trapped or backed into a corner, but I doubt he’d see me as a threat. And I doubt he’d be expecting a witch.”

His lip curled up on one side. “As much as I would love to see him go up against your magic, I won’t put you in harm's way like that.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he quickly added, “Besides. I need to try and do this by the book. I’m a cop before anything else.”

“I get that,” Emma relented, begrudgingly. “But I’m going to keep my phone close by in case you get in over your head and change your mind.”

“In over my head?” he said in feigned offense. “I’ll have you know, love,” he murmured in a low timber, edging a bit closer to her. “If there is one thing I’m good at… it’s surviving.”

“Mhmm,” Emma hummed, meeting his taunting expression of challenge with one of her own. “Well, I’m going to insist that you stop by afterward in order to prove that to me.”

He smiled down at her, another message alerting from his phone, indicating it was past time for him to go.

“As you wish.”

Chapter Two - Coming Soon!

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[muneca-lemon-steppa]

ANGELLL!!! I AM OBSESSED W YOUR ALFIE FICS. I loved your 'A brother for Cyril' fic and I wanted to ask if you'd consider a kinda 'sequel' of Alfie and his wife introducing the two dogs and Alfie thinking they'll hate each other only for them to actually become the perfect dog siblings?! Please don't feel bad if you need to decline, I'm just throwing random ideas at the wall as I saw you were seeking some. sending you lots of love always and thank you for the work you do ❤️

Anon!!! Hi friend ah this was so so sweet!!!! Thank you for sending this in this was literally such a kind message I feel so blessed!!! I hope you enjoy this story, I took it a little further than I anticipated, but I hope it satisfies 💕💕💕 sending my love! - Mo

A Brother for Cyril: Part 2

Alfie Solomons x Wife!Reader

Warnings: language, mentioning pregnancy

One thing is for certain... Alfie could never deny you anything.

To someone on the outside of your relationship, it would looked as though you were irreperably spoiled. Alfie absolutely doted on you... in his own way. It didn't make sense to those on the outside. One moment you two were fighting as if your lives depended on it, hollering and shouting obscenities, arguing about the best way to handle something. The next moment he had you in his lap, chuckling into your neck, 'begging' for forgiveness with kisses and whispered promises, "Oh treacle don't be cross with me now! Give a kiss yeah? You can't be mad at your husband forever!"

And you couldn't. You could never be truly cross with Alfie. Even when you were fighting, it wasn't truly directed at him. It was just your passions overflowing and exploding, ignited by his own stubborness. And God did you love setting each other off. For the making up was so sweet.

Alfie loved spoiling you. He loved giving you things. A sweet treat from the bakery. Delicate earrings and necklaces from his jewelry shop, engraved with his initials. A bouquet accompanied with a sonnet of his own composition. Alfie loved to dote on you endlessly, and loved to give you any type of happiness.

But this was a rat dog.

Alfie could not believe that he was actually stuck with this piece of lint. And was even more in shock that not only was he stuck with it, but you loved the piece of fur. Alfie was struggling to keep the scoffs at bay, as he watched you coo and caress the puppy, as it gave small kisses to your fingers. “Oh Alfie I’m so happy we’re going to have another dog. We really did need another puppy.”

He prayed you didn’t see the rolling of his eyes. This wasn’t a dog. Cyril, now that was a dog!! This ball of fur was pathetic! Cyril was big and strong, and was good at things! Like guarding the house and playing fetch and roughhousing on the floor. And Cyril just looked impressive! What would people think if they saw this piece of dust walking on the end of a lead held by him? Could it even walk? It was being cradled like a human baby the entire time. It was tiny… what if Cyril ate it? Alfie placed a heavy hand on your shoulder, “Now darling, don’t be shocked if Cyril and…”

“Barty.”, you reminded him.

“Yes right Barty, if they don’t get along. Cyril is a man’s dog. He probably won’t want to fraternize with the likes of Barty.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at your husband, “Fraternize? Alfie, Cyril is a dog. I don’t think he’s overly concerned with social standings in the dog park.”

“Well dear see that’s where you’re mistaken. Me and Cyril yeah we talk. Man to man. And I’m not sure little Barty here will be able to keep up. He seems a little delicate.”

“Alfie you’re not even giving him a chance!! He is just a baby!”

You held up Barty to look into Alfie’s eyes, “Look at his face darling!! He can fit in! Cyril and him are going to get along perfectly!! He just needs your love and acceptance!”

Alfie stared into the barely open eyes of the puppy, and just squinted, as if trying to measure the baby’s spirit. You moved Barty closer to Alfie, being nearly nose to nose, neither Alfie nor Barty blinking. And then Barty licked Alfie’s nose with a yip.

“OH LORD! BARTY!” Alfie lurched back, spluttering and rubbing the minimum slobber off his nose. You just cackled in your seat at your ridiculous husband. The mad baker of Camden upset by some dog slobber! “Alfie! It’s just a kiss! And Cyril’s slobber is much worse!!! You don’t care when it gets on you! You don’t mind his kisses!”

“Well first off Cyril does not kiss! Cyril snarls! And Barty and I just met! Where does he get off kissing already!”

You couldn’t stop laughing and teasing your dear husband. He was such a secret to the outside. To everyone else, he is ferocious and unfeeling. Absolutely mad and vicious. But your Alfie… your Alfie had such a different side to him. You weren’t naive. You knew what this life entailed. Hell, you were his secretary before you were his wife. You knew what Alfie was, and knew what it took. But you weren’t afraid of him. Alfie wasn’t just the King of Camden. He was an animal. But he was also tender and artistic. He bellowed and roared and tore through men like nothing. But he also whispered his undying love for you every night, and pressed hot kisses to each of your fingers every morning. Alfie was everything. And that’s what people missed. And it’s what you cherished. That you got to hold the Mad Baker and Alfie Solomons in one.

When you got to the house, Alfie waved to Ollie goodbye, and guided you through the door, hand firmly on your waist. As soon as he opened the door to your home, the pounding sounds of massive paws fill your ears. Cyril makes a bee line to his father, and immediately starts pushing his head against Alfie’s stomach, “Hello my boy! My Cyril!! You miss your papa and mum yeah? You’re so good, you watched the house for me yeah?”

Cyril’s sweet face broke out in a large smile, panting and leaning in to Alfie’s touch. After giving all the love his boy needed, Alfie finally straightened, preparing to witness what may be a bloodbath. “Alright Cyril sit my boy sit. We have brought you something.”

Alfie motioned for you to hold out Barty, “Cyril my boy, mummy and papa have decided that you need a brother. This here is Barty, and you’re going to teach him how to be a real dog.”

“Alfie!”

“Well he’s not a dog darling! Go on put the little runt on the ground, let Cyril sniff him out.”

You gently put Barty on the ground near Cyril’s front paws. You stand back up, shifting closer to Alfie, waiting for what was to come.

Barty managed to pull himself onto his tiny paws, sniffing the air around Cyril. Cyril’s head went to the side, as if trying to understand what was just put in front of him. He leaned all the way down sniffing Barty for a long time and then… gave him the biggest kiss Alfie had ever seen.

Cyril began to bark, and bounce around with all his young dog energy. Barty began yipping excitedly hopping around Cyril’s feet. “Barty! Are you so excited to meet your big brother?” You we’re so excited, so happy that the dogs were getting along, and Barty had been accepted into the Solomons pack.

After dinner, you and Alfie took your tea in the parlor, nestled together, enjoying each others presence and the radio playing softly. Cyril and Barty were snoring together close to the fireplace. Barty was snuggled right against Cyril’s stomach, legs kicking ever so often, lost in a dream.

“I cannot believe this… Cyril has gone soft.”

From your place on Alfie’s chest you swat him, “Leave them alone. It’s sweet.”

“He romped. He’s never romped before.”

“Well you did tell him to teach Barty how to be a dog. He’s just being a good big brother. I saw him trying to play tug of war with him. It was very sweet.”

Alfie just grunted, staring off into space. Until he hummed out, “Sweet heart?”

“Yes darling?”

“Would you ever want… human puppies?”

You sat up straight, “… do you mean babies?”

“Nevermind it was stupid.”

You laughed loudly, grabbing his shoulders for him to face you, “No you stubborn man! It’s not stupid, I just have never heard someone say 'human puppies'."

He just mumbled to himself, as he typically does, but still grabbed your wrist, pressing a kiss to the inside of your palm. Meeting your eyes you feel those butterflies in your stomach that still haven’t left after all of these years, he presses you “Well?”

You sigh, smiling softly, thinking and considering as your fingers comb through his hair, “Hmmmm I’ve thought about it. Had dreams about it. I’ve always wanted a big family, just like how I grew up. I’ve thought about you holding and playing with the children. Absolutely spoiling them with your affection. Teaching them. Being the man that I know you are. I just didn’t think you wanted kids.”

Alfie leaned into your touch, still holding your hand, “I just didn’t think I’d have the chance. You know… to have a family. Thought I was getting too old. Then here you come… crashing in my bachelor life. And now… I just keep thinking about it.”

You leaned in, heart glowing at his vulnerability. You knew it was sometimes hard for him to discuss those deep feelings, it made him feel exposed. But the fact that he still opened up like that to you, it spoke to the volumes of trust between the two of you. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips you whisper, “If you want children Mr. Solomons, let’s have them.”

You think you see a small glitter of a tear threaten to show itself in his eyes, before he says, “Cyril could teach them how to be dogs too.”

The rest of the evening flows in laughter and kisses. As you dream with him about what the future holds, Cyril admires from his place on the floor, keeping his new little brother safe, and thinking about the new siblings sure to come.

[leosxrealm]

OMG I LOVE LOVE LOVVEEE ur best friend’s brother fic w itoshi sae!! it randomly popped up in my head and i js had to go reread it !!!! i was wondering if you could do a part 2 or maybe a few more headcanons abt it ?? :)

-ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ'ꜱ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ- [ᴘᴀʀᴛ-02]

pairing(s): itoshi sae x gn! reader

warning(s): mentions of sex, nothing too explicit, mentions of alcohol, rin and sae have a better relationship, rin being a protective bestie (in his own way), everyone is 18+

a/n: i re-read that fic to get some of the details right and ngl lie it made me cringe a lil lmao. but thank you !! i decided on doing both. i made a separate post for boyfriend head cannons, so you can check that out! this one is a small drabble on what happened with rin. hope you like this and the hcs

!not proofread!

part 1 || headcannons

you squirmed under rin's intense gaze. he was pissed pissed. the safest thing for you right now was to keep your mouth shut.

rin was waiting for you at your apartment when you got home from your little nap with sae. you were kind of regretting giving him the spare key to your apartment. but you knew that this would have to be done one day or the other. you just didn't know that it would be this soon.

with the last bit of courage, you looked your best friend in the eyes, "rin-"

"don't" he cut you off before you could even explain yourself.

it's kinda stupid, he thinks. he has known that his older brother has harbored feelings for you for years, but never acted on it because sae believed that relationships are a waste of his time.

now, rin wasn't stupid, he very well knew that all that happened between you and his brother could have been the result of the alcohol in both your systems. he just couldn't accept it.

what annoyed rin the most is that he doesn't know if sae took advantage of your drunken state. deep down he knows that his brother is better than this. and no matter how much of an asshole he could be; he would never stoop to that level. but, he can't think straight right now. what if there's even a slightest of the slightest chance that this was all planned by sae. he would make sure to make his brother's life a living hell.

"whatever you're thinking, it's not that," your voice pulled him out of the spiral of thoughts in his head. he looked at the couch you were sitting on. what was this? some kind of intervention? in your own house?

you gulped, before continuing, "i don't remember much from last night. it's all a little blur, to be honest. but i was the one that initiated the kiss that led to all of this," you vaguely motioned with your hand, "i remember a few moments here and there. your brother didn't force himself on me."

"do you love him?"

you choked on your own saliva. where the hell did that come from? "well...." you paused, trying to find the right words, "'love' would be too strong of a word." he didn't say anything in return. an uncomfortable and tense silence settled over you two.

"i do like him!" you blurted out. you had to say something, you couldn't take the silence anymore. looking down, you fiddled with your fingers. "i like him," you reiterated, "a lot. and i would like to give him a chance."

rin sighed. he knew this was coming but seriously? his best friend and his brother? it would take him some time to accept it.

"we discussed it...before he dropped me off..." you trailed off, "he wants to court me. officially."

"okay."

"huh?"

"i said, okay" his irritated tone made you shut up real quick. right, he hates repeating himself. and if it were someone else, he would have ignored them a second time. they weren't worth his time. but you were his best friend, you weren't someone else. as much as he hates it, he would repeat himself for his best friend; and how do you pay him back? by sleeping with his damn brother? he scoffs at the thought.

honestly? he should've seen this coming. he knew your lingering gazes and exchanged glances would lead to something someday.

he sighed for what seemed like the millionth time. he can't do this right now. too much thinking. so the both of you spent the rest of the evening watching horror movies.

[rtfics]

Seeing BJ2 the 3rd time.

LONG & FILLED WITH SPOILERS

SO much to think about, and my memory is shit.

I rapidly scribbled notes during the film. But when I got home and tried to read them:

So here's an overview. I'll post other details if I ever translate my notes.

First, the casting was perfection. I'd never seen Jenny Ortega, Justin Theroux, and Monica Bellucci before, so for me they were the characters.

It was interesting that the film opens with the Warner Brothers Studio lot in black & white. Why B&W? It sort of sets the tone.

Donna Summer singing lines from "MacArthur's Park" was a foreshadowing. This film was made by a guy who was a teen in the 70s, and it's for others his age (he's only 2 years older than me). BJ2 is packed with 70s nostalgia that only those who were alive then would get.

This sequel was also made for die-hard fans of the original Beetlejuice. Burton took special care to give us the Winter River we love, but updated it to show the story and its characters aren't stuck in the past. The covered bridge is there, the church, cemetery, Miss Shannon's, and fire station are there, and so is the Maitland's building, but it's a coffee shop now.

Seeing Lydia as shell-shocked and pill-popping threw me, but the plot gave it sense (I'll go into detail in a separate post).

Rory, OMFG, I've known Rory. Anyone who's had anything to do with the entertainment/media biz, even peripherally, knows Rory. His "enabler" bullshit was so spot-on; faking that he's going to get Lydia off her dependency on drugs while keeping her hooked by making it seem that he's doing it because she's begging him. Classic user methodology. You just know he's the one who got her on "coping" pills in the first place; all the better to manipulate her. I loathed him immediately.

I adore what they did with Delia. It completely fucking made sense, and followed what's happened in the modern NYC Arts scene. I love how she and Lydia now get along, I mean, shit, Lydia's in her 50s and Delia's in her 70s, they're both middle-aged women, and, bless their hearts, the screenwriters and Burton made them act like grown women.

Astrid seemed older than 16 to me, but hey, I'm not around teenagers these days. I appreciated that she wasn't a brat. Her resentment and having her back up were appropriate for her family situation; a beloved father whose body was never found (I think); a mom always working or promoting because of Rory, doped on pills and famous for being a ghost-seeing nutjob, who can't see Astrid's father. That's a lot to deal with.

The way they handled Charles was perfect, especially his claymation demise. His afterlife body was comically gross, and an ingenious way of including Charles in the film without having to recast another actor, except for his voice. Charles being in the Netherworld provides a great thread to Delia's later death. His headstone being the shape of a shark's fin was a humorously grim touch.

The Sylvia Young Theatre School Choir sang at Charles' funeral, and their voices were beautiful.

Arthur Conti was fantastic as Jeremy (70s teens remember his grandfather, Scottish actor Tom Conti). His American accent was flawless. He was the perfect balance of cute and mature, and his niceness made his being evil all the worse; while Astrid says the incantation you can see him slightly out of focus behind her, smiling in a chilling way. I love that there isn't the slightest hint that he's a multiple murderer, and of his own parents! When he's about to get his passport stamped he shows absolutely no remorse toward Astrid, which makes his damnation all the sweeter.

Beetlejuice . . . . What can I say? Michael Keaton created Beetlejuice as we know him, and he fit right back in character as easily as drawing breath. His body language, his weird way of walking, his expressions, everything is just as you'd expect Beej to be. But then we get to see more! I can't express how happy I was to see Beej's origin story, which turned the throw-away line about having a pretty good time during the Black Death into something more substantial. Seeing Keaton as human Beej was a delight.

An important detail was that, even though Beej says his heart had long since withered, he fell for Delores. He says he was "bewitched." Perhaps not love, but lust certainly. It's quite clear that Delores was much higher in social station than Beetlejuice, so he must have thought he'd won the lottery with her choosing him. My god, his ego had no problem with his drunken ass being hauled to bed by his new wife, and his enthusiasm was huge. I love that they gave him the gut in his human form (Keaton doesn't have one).

Richard was the nice guy I hoped he would be. But it was telling that, when he says goodbye to Lydia at the ladder in the mausoleum, they don't hug. They don't even shake hands. It shows the truth of Lydia's previous statement to Astrid that she and Richard's relationship had ended long before his death.

Wolf is every 70s crime drama/movie distilled. Hammy, over the top, constantly spouting his Catch Phrase.

Why are there so many shrunken head guys? And why did Beej hire people who can't talk to answer his phones? It's loony and fits the Netherworld random logic. They're Beej's Minions.

I've seen a lot of people on tumblr, as well as professional movie critics, say there were "too many villains" and that the plot was "too hard to follow."

For those who agree with this, I recommend you never attempt to read anything by Charles Dickens, Alexandre Dumas, Victor Hugo, Edgar Allan Poe's detective stories, or Agatha Christie. Because your brains would fry.

Look, there are two villains. Just two.

Delores poisoned Beetlejuice, he killed her with an axe in revenge, in the Afterlife she reassembles and hunts him down, killing others in her wake, which sets Wolf Jackson and the Ghoul Squad after her, until she's defeated with a sandworm.

Rory has been manipulating Lydia, keeping her doped, gas-lighting her, until under the Truth Serum injected by Beej he spills the beans and Lydia rejects him, until he's eaten at the same time as Delores by the sandworm.

As for "Delores and Rory weren't given enough story," what more do you want? How Delores joined a soul-sucking cult? How Rory became a user, seeking out vulnerable, grieving women to exploit? We learn as much as we need to. Anything more would have stuffed the film with unnecessary crap.

The only shit I didn't care for was the baby.

The whole Counseling scene was a big gross-out, and I'm sure Tim Burton intended it that way. The original couldn't have been more gross than it was or it would have earned an R Rating, keeping out everyone under the age of 18 (21 in some states; this was the 80s). But now, Burton could be a lot more graphic. I was stunned that he had Lydia go through the "pregnancy," but it obviously didn't hurt her. For me Babyjuice has no point. It doesn't advance the plot, and its reappearance only drives home the weirdness of the ending.

What the ever fuck was the ending??

Especially Astrid giving birth to the Beetlebaby. It would suggest Beetlejuice is its father, which means he and Astrid had sex. Which we can be pretty sure they didn't . . ? In the counseling scene Beej refers to the baby as his "inner child." So its not his literal child? Even so, why would Astrid give birth to it the same way her mother did?

I've read all the theories about the ending, and at this point one's as good as the other. Perhaps that's the point: To keep us all guessing. Because I'm sure, all along, there's been a plan for Beetlejuice 3, IF this movie was a hit. If it wasn't, if it bombed (since 2010 all of Burton's films have bombed), the ending would lead to speculation forever, to people writing fucking dissertations about its symbology and metaphors, etc.

But if it was a hit, which it is, the seeds are there for a third and final film. But so fucking murky no one can guess what it'll be like.

The only part of the ending I liked was Beej shaking awake and saying, as he glances at Lydia, "I just had the weirdest dream." And Lydia looking over. Not terrified. Not screaming or leaping out of bed. Not seeing the indentation in the pillow and yelling in protest. Just staring.

Do I want a third film?

I love Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. I love it more every time I watch it. I accept everything in it as canon, even the baby, resentfully.

But Burton might fuck up the last one. He might do things I never wanted to be canon. When a sequel is made of a hit film, the creators sometimes become self-conscious. BJ2 wasn't, because it'd been 36 years since the original. They had no idea whether this version would fly. Since it has, massively, I'm afraid the screenwriters and Burton may become too aware of the audience and try to cater to it. OR they'll go the opposite direction and try to come up with a plot they think fans would never imagine.

So I'm pretty much stuck in the same place I was before I saw Beetlejuice Beetlejuice. Wary, skeptical, and cynical.

[yinora-evergreen]

HIII BABES i saw u write for spn so here's a req if ur willing !!

can i have a sam x genderfluid reader (or nonbinary is fine !) where reader saves sam from a monster attack and ends up tagging along w him and dean, during which sam kind of follows them around and admires them a lot ??

thanksss xx and hope ur enjoying the show

a/n: SURE THING BABE!! im actually so excited because this is my very first supernatural request, so thats really cool! i love the username btw, and the banner thing on your profile, really mixing my hyperfixations there! (dead boy detectives + supernatural) if you want another part, or another prompt whatsoever just request!

pairing: Sam Winchester x genderfluid!hunter!reader, platonic!Dean Winchester x reader, set with season 2 in mind (Dean doesn't have a deal yet)

note: i am not personally genderfluid, so im sorry if there are any inaccuracies, i tried my best with the knowledge i have. reader rides a purple motorcycle, Dean and reader are little shits to eachother but we love it here. reader is a badass because i said so. reader knows about Dean and Sam because of Bobby. reader is mentioned to wear eyeliner once. reader likes metallica (same)

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

it started with a simple case, it was a quick vamp nest, in and out.

what they hadn't thought of, was the fact that maybe, maybe, the kind woman who was hitting on both of them at the bar at an ungodly hour might've been a vamp too, and perhaps wanted to get rid of them, keep them away from her oh-so-lovely nest.

so here they are, tied up, gagged with a cloth, vamps practically circling them.

Sam could count 4 in sight, and atleast three taking naps a few feet away.

while Sam racks his mind for a solution, Dean can't help but shoot a wink to the vampire who hit on them at the bar a few hours ago, trying to act as chill as he can.

suddenly, all four of the circling vampires look up at the sound of a motercycle, and before they know it one comes crashing through the wooden wall, a guy with a helmet, you, being on top of it.

you jump off the motorcycle, letting it crash right into two vampires and lodging them against the opposite wall while you take out your machete, slashing at the other two, cutting their heads off with great skill.

next, the three napping vampires wake up, and immediately fling themselves at you.

you avoid them, dodging as if its a walk in the park, and cut off their head too.

for a second, you forget about the last two vamps, who are now free from your motorcycle, and charging at you.

one of them manages to knick your arm, leaving a small cut, and the other just completely misses, her leg having been crushed from the crash.

you handle them both pretty well, slashing at them and effectively killing them.

you take off your helmet, letting out a relieved sigh.

"damn, it better not be broken too bad" you mumble as you walk over and set your motorcycle upright again.

you hear muffled... something, coming from one of the guys tied to the pole, and see them both looking at you.

"oh, right, people" you mumble, taking a few long strides to get to them, first removing the cloth from their mouth and then the rope from their hands.

"you two good?" you ask, helping them up.

"how the fuck did you do that?" the shorter one asks, running a hand through his short hair.

"lets see, training, training, practice, did i mention training?" you say sarcastically, earning a chuckle from the tall one.

"hey, that was pretty cool, im taking it you're a hunter? we are too, im Sam and this is my brother Dean" he says with a smile, it reminds you of a golden retriever.

"wait, your last name doesn't happen to be Winchester, right?" you reply with a small smile of your own.

"its nice to meet you, i'm [name], i heard of you two from Bobby"

"well, your motorcycle seems pretty fucked, one of its tires is going empty and there's a piece hanging loose" Dean comments, dusting off his hands.

"oh for fuck's sake, i just got it fixed!" you groan in annoyance.

"oh, you can tag along with us if you want, we got a motel nearby" Sam offers sweetly, earning an elbow in the ribs from Dean.

"thanks, but i'm good, i got a motel room nearby too, infact, it wouldn't surprise me if we got the same one. Sunshine's Seashell Motel?" Sam looks surprised, Dean just looks annoyed.

"right, great, we'll see you tomorrow, maybe" Dean comments, before grabbing Sam's arm and practically dragging him away.

you smile to yourself, shaking your head before walking out aswell, going back to the motel.

the next morning, you put on a tanktop and some comfy jeans, matched with a flannel. you walk out, hair loose and some eyeliner on.

you walk out front to bring back your key, a duffelbag over your shoulder. you thank the worker behind the desk, and hear mumbling behind you.

you turn to the sound, and see Sam and Dean standing there, Dean making a face while Sam seems to talk wide eyed.

"im telling you Dean, that's the guy who saved our asses last night!"

"bullshit! thats just some girl in a flannel who looks like him, im sure of it!"

you smile, and decide to walk over to them. "hey boys! rested up from the whole thing yesterday?" you can't help but grin at Dean's flabbergasted face.

"im sorry, but i could swear you were a guy last night" Dean says, looking very confused.

"i was" you say cassually, walking along with them as they exit the motel and walk to their car, which you can't help but admire.

"what?" Dean looks even more confused, and Sam speaks up.

"genderfluid, Dean, she's genderfluid" Sam looks almost interested in you, but you shrug it off for admiration or something.

"atleast, i think thats it, right?" you nod, coming to a stop as Dean just shakes his head in disbelief and gets into the drivers seat, dumping his bag in the back, and Sam is about to go into the passengers seat before he looks at you.

"you wanna come with us? we're going to Bobby's, and im guessing your motorcycle isnt in a driving state." he smiles kindly at you, and you can swear he checks you out with his eyes before you shake it off.

"yeah, that'd be great, actually, thanks" you get in the back of the car, a grumbled scoff coming from Dean.

the moment he turns on the car, metallica 'sad but true' comes blasting throught the speakers, and you bob your head along the beat.

"ah, i see you actually have style! you know what, you can drive with us whenever you want" Dean says with a shit eating grin, earning and eyeroll from Sam.

"right, so she likes your music, and suddenly its all fine?" he scoffs and looks out of the window.

you can't stop the fluttering feeling in your chest.

maybe, for once, hunting can bring you something good, something better than just saving people.

maybe it can bring you your best ally you'll ever gain.

maybe it'll grant you a lover.

little do you know, that Sam is looking at you through the mirror, admiration apparent in his gaze, and he looks away again. he looks at Dean, who gives him a knowing look.

his brother is down bad already.

[reverse-moon]

For @the-overanalyst

Based on: This post

Summary: "FUCK OFF ENA MY SURROGATE FAMILY GO FIND A DIFFERENT CITY FOR YOURS"

Constant looking around seemed to payoff. She finally found Weekend Garage, a supposedly super place. If Akito could be trusted. Then again, wasn't this also Shraishi's place...?

Sighing a bit, Ena pushed open the doors and looked around before being greeted. “Ena-san!!”

“An. Hi.” Okay, this was her place. Maybe Akito wasn't lying.

“Can't stay long, practice, BYE!” An said, rushing over to the door.

“Take care, An.” Ena jumped a bit, noticing the man behind the counter smile.

“LATER DAD, I'll bring Kohane and Toya by!” And like that, the younger girl was gone. Ena turned back to the man and waved in a nervous way.

“No need to panic. I'm just the owner of the place. Not gonna hurt a new patron.” His chuckled seemed to calm Ena's nerves as she made her way over to a barstool.

“Right... It's Ken, yes? My brother keeps raving and ranting about this place and a Ken...” Ena asked.

“Shiraishi Ken, at your service. You Akito's sister?” He cut to the chase, making a small platter of food.

“Ah... Yes.” Ena smiled. “Bet he says all bad things, hm?”

“Only half of the time. The other half is things he thinks are insulting but just show how much he cares.” Ken chuckled. “Feel free to stay as long as you need to. Any orders are on me, okay?”

Ena blinked. “W-Wait, isn't that bad for business...?” A small smile and an eyebrow raise told her he probably didn't care. “Th-Thank you!” He moved away to serve a different customer as Ena pulled her sketchbook out.

A deep breath in as she looked at the stage. It seemed like a good place to start...

About thirty minutes later, a small group came in, greeted by Ken. She vaguely caught when they asked to sing, and watched them move to the stage. It was a good opportunity to practice emotions, so Ena started sketching the faces. Two hours later, the page was filled with singers faces, parts of the restaurant and she had started combining the things on a different page.

“Mind if I see what you have so far?” Ena jolted as Ken asked, looking up. “You were drawing all day, right?”

A nod, and Ena slowly showed Ken the work. He looked over the page, the small smile never leaving. Each moment passing caused Ena to tense more, bracing for the worst.

“I think it's pretty perfect. To me, you caught the way the singers were having fun really well, along with the song messages. I don't know much about art composition, I only know what my roommate from college told me. But I think that's pretty good too.” Ena blinked. “I think my only suggestion is add colour when you can. Bright ones, if you think it fits.”

“Wh...” Ena looked at her work. She was sure it was bad. A customer came over to pay and noticed the art, before agreeing with Ken and waving goodbye. She looked at the art again. “But... My teacher would s—”

“Art is subjective, right? Sure there are rules to try and make it more appealing to the masses, but if it even makes one person feel something besides ‘ew, that looks bad’, I think it's done it's job.” Ken added, handing the sketchbook back. “So. I'd say this art is good since it's resonated with at least 2 people.”

Just as Ena was about to thank him for the confidence boost, the door of the restaurant burst open. All Ken could do was chuckle as Ena blinked in confusion.

“GET YOUR OWN SURROGATE DAD!” Akito yelled. Ena huffed and got angry right back.

“All I did was get a bit of an eye opener, shut up! Besides, I wouldn't have just wandered in if you took me here before once!” Akito scoffed as he stormed in, followed by the rest of Vivid BAD SQUAD chuckling.

“YOU DON'T SEE ME ADDING YOUR GROUP ON NIGHTCORD?!” Akito huffed.

“Jokes on you, Mizuki has tried like 4 times to add you so that threat doesn't bother me!” Ena shot back.

Ken clapped his hands. “How about you two bicker through song. You are on Vivid Street.”

“BEAT HIM, ENA-SAN!!” An cheered. The siblings looked at each other then took off to the stage.

All the while, Ken simply smiled and chuckled.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph! Any fics with Moran? Either as a prevalent side character or the main. If not, non-romantic Mycroft fics?

Hi Lovely!

Ah, for Mycroft, you can check out these list below for fics I've recced:

Mycroft Flirts With John

Mycroft Plays a Role in This Fic

Mycroft Plays a Role Pt. 2

Mycroft Plays a Role Pt. 3

Matchmaker Mycroft

Big Brother Mycroft

Big Brother Mycroft Pt 2

Big Brother Mycroft Pt. 3

Holmes Brothers’ Relationship

For Moran, I don't have many that I recall, so I did a tag/name search for MORAN on my lists. Check these out, and please add your own, friends if you have them!

======

MORAN IS IN THIS FIC

BOOKMARKS

I Will Take Care Of You by SailorChibi (T, 16,664 w., 15 Ch. || Hurt/Comfort, Sick Sherlock, BAMF John, BAMF Lestrade, Reunion Fic) – Two years after Sherlock's death, John comes to find him on the sofa. Wounded and ill, Sherlock is convinced he's hallucinating and refuses to share any details about Moran or the fact that Mycroft has been compromised. That doesn't stop John from stepping up and taking care of the last of Moriarty's web, BAMF-style.

The Lost Special: Family Matters (As Do Relationships) by ShirleyCarlton (M, 144,688 w., 40 Ch. || S4 Fix It Fic / Meta Fic, Unreliable Narrator, John’s Mind Bungalow, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Demisexual Sherlock, Holmes Family, John Whump, Gay Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Drug Addiction, Parenting, TFP is a Nightmare, Virgin Sherlock, Slow Burn, Minor Character Death, Switchlock, John’s Past, Sherlock’s Past, Eurus, Love Confessions) –Sherrinford is not really the name of some high security prison. That was just a figment of John’s frantic coma dream. And Eurus is not actually Sherlock’s sister. That’s just something random she said to John before shooting him. Sherlock and John were never actually estranged. That was just their act to cover up what really happened to Mary – or Rosamund Moran, as her real name has turned out to be. Sherlock does have a secret sibling, though, and his name is Sherrinford. After finally eliminating Moran – though in a rather dramatically different way than they had envisioned – and exposing the truth about Eurus, John encourages Sherlock to delve into his past and to find out whether the reasons to keep Sherrinford away from Sherlock were the right ones, and to discover what really happened in 1981. Along the way, Sherlock and John gradually, finally, stop keeping each other at a distance, and eventually become a proper family of their own.

Sherlock Holmes Live by emilycare (E, 488,496 w., 73 Ch. || Theatre AU || Immersive Theatre, Romance, Slow Burn, Fake / Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Bisexual John, Demisexual Gay Sherlock, Alternating POV, Falling in Love, Eventual Case Fic, Soft Sherlock, Panic Attacks, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Pining John) –  Down on his luck John Watson answers an advert for a paid role in an experimental play. Enter William Scott with a most unusual proposition: help him test run a two person immersive experience, oh and by the way there is sex and romance involved.

MARKED FOR LATER

I Didn't Know I How Much I Needed You by orphan_account (M, 4,270 +w., 3/? Ch. || WiP || Teen Ballet/Rugby High School AU || Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Rugby Player John, Gay Sherlock, Underage Sex, Graphic Violence, Teenage Drama, Blow Jobs, Anal/Oral, Spanking, Implied Past Child Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Drug Abuse, Prostitution, Sex Worker Sherlock, Pimp!Moran) – Sherlock is an orphaned boy raised by his abusive foster father. He's under the control of an over-bearing and cruel pimp, Sebastian Moran, who makes a lot of money off of Sherlock's ability to seduce anyone. Treated like a worthless whore, Sherlock feels loved for the first time when he meets John Watson, a rugby player with a hard life. The two boys are drawn to each other instantly and thus begins a beautiful relationship that neither of the boys have ever experienced before.

Curse of the Were-Tuna by WhoGroovesOn (E, 46,916 w., 9 Ch. || Were-Creature AU || Nudity, Aquariums, Fish, Body Horror, Curses, Cuddling, Romance, Transformations, Frottage, Anal, Fem! Moriaty/Moran, First Time) – John couldn’t help but feel as though the large tuna beyond the glass was staring at him, which was weird because it’s not like fish had eyelids, they always seemed to be staring at things.

Rust Red Skies by bakerstreetashtray (E, 73,597 w., 26 Ch. || Army/Military AU || MorMor) – Jim Moriarty is a newly qualified medic, uncertain about the job and heading out to Afghanistan to be posted out with a team. NEO Team, to be specific - headed by one, Captain Sebastian Moran. Working under impossible conditions in a volatile area, inexperienced with saving lives and recovering from a troubled childhood, the attention of the Captain is the last thing on Jim's mind. And yet, it might just become the first.

Between the Fall and the Creation by 7PercentSolution &  shelleysprometheus (E, 78,954 w., 23 Ch. || Angst, Betrayal, Case Fic, Trust, Revenge, Rebirth, Grief/Mourning, Alternating POV, Extortion, Entrapment, Blood and Torture, BAMF John, Twins, Suicidal Ideation) – However inconvenient. However improbable. Could be dangerous. SHJohn had stared at those two lines of text for far longer than was necessary. In seven words, in an instant, his life had both been given back to him and at the same time, altered irreparably. Of course, he had gone. Had he ever not followed wherever Sherlock had led? And he had watched, silent, still, gun pressed solidly to the back of Moran’s head as Sherlock had faced down Moriarty and Moriarty had … well, done the unthinkable. Not that he’s not grateful to the depths of his being for Sherlock’s return and Moriarty’s demise. He is just, well… most probably he is in shock. When Sherlock had ‘died’, John’s world had fallen apart. Cracked, shattered into pieces, been obliterated. And now that Sherlock is back, living, breathing, sitting calmly across from him in the living room of 221B, he is … numb, furious, deliriously happy and devastatingly betrayed—all at the same time. He’s fucked up in a hundred thousand different ways. And Sherlock ... The fact that their chairs now face the hearth rather than each other is an indication of just how large the gulf that has opened up between them really is. Part 4 of the Forethought and Fire series

Few Escape the Gallows by 7PercentSolution &  shelleysprometheus (E, 92,406 w., 26 Ch. || Grieving John, Case Fic, Angry Moran, Torture, Domestic Violence, Knife Play, Blood and Injury, BDSM, Sulking Sherlock, MorMor) – Sherlock is dead. Moriarty is free. And John is ... falling. What do you do when you have nothing to lose? Following on from A Dead Man's Money, this fic pits a grieving John Watson against an angry Sebastian Moran. Mycroft is scheming in the background and Moriarty is making mischief. And Sherlock ... ? Part 3 of the Forethought and Fire series

Fin de Siècle Series by Calais_Reno (M, 102,149 w. across 20 works || Victorian AU || Alternate First Meeting, Friends to Lovers, Alternating POV, Misunderstandings, Period-Typical Homophobia, Love Declarations, Grief/Mourning, Victorian Attitudes, Marriage of Convenience, True Love, Loneliness, Hurt/Comfort) – Holmes and Watson meet and commit themselves to one another, in spite of laws that make their relationship illegal. Holmes confronts Moriarty at Reichenbach hoping to end his influence in the government; he falls, but does not win. Moriarty's machine continues. While Holmes tries to make his way back to England, Watson, believing Holmes dead, suffers the consequences of their opposition to Sebastian Moran, Moriarty's successor. Finally reunited after several years, Holmes and Watson work to end the corruption that has taken over Britain's government.

We Will Survive by anny (M, 103,007 w., 21/25 Ch. || WiP || Viclock vs Johnlock, Past Viclock, Anal / BJ’s / Orgasms, Music, Jealousy, Case Fic, Social Media, Protective Mycroft, Pining John / Sherlock, Fluff, Weddings, Drug References, Drunkenness, Angst, Humour, Character Death) – After Reichenbach, Sherlock is back in London to face a new villain: Sebastian Moran. But he has to deal with John's new life with Mary Morstan, and he soon understands that things between them have changed. With the arrival of Victor Trevor in Sherlock's life, John will finally deal with his true feelings for Sherlock.....

[coff-in]

thank you so much for doing my request!! if you’re comfy with a pt 2 I’d love to read it!! seeing reader cope with becoming a parent and how reader copes with getting raped by andrew … how the dynamic at home changes, andrew as a daddy and ashley as a aunt!! does andrew force reader to marry him? <3 if ur not comfy w doing it as a req then maybe ramble or do it in any other form like a hc! thank youuu 🥹🤍

notes from coff-in: it's past midnight right now where i am (as it it's closer to 1:00am) but i need to write. this is definitely a ramble but thank you for clarifying that i could do that! writing properly for ficlets and headcanons take a bit out of me but i want go give you guys the best that i got, you know? sorry, sorry... on to your ask!

[fem] reader-insert, [afab] reader-insert(?), NSFW, rape, talks/mentions of pregnancy and abortion, incest in the last bits but it's skippable really

the biggest thing that i wonder about is how [reader] met andrew and ashley. how long have they'd known each other? were they quarantined together (was [reader] quarantined at all)? i think i'll leave it up to the reader's interpretation/imagination but these things feel like they should impact the story, you know? um... [reader] doesn't really take to being a mother too well. she doesn't want to be a mother, so it makes sense. ashley wouldn't let her get rid of the child, either. she doesn't like [reader] all that much but she does try to recognize potential opportunities to keep andrew close in this... situation.

the last thing a parent wants to do is to make their child sad. if ashley could get close enough to andrew's child (she'd love the child ofc, it's an extension of her brother) then she could keep andrew close to her, too. any separation of them would also affect the child and until it's born who knows how that can go. ashley doesn't like [reader] all that much. she could come to like [reader], but when i was writing the original piece i sort of didn't write it with ashely in mind... so any relationship they build would be after the rape event.

andrew. andrew andrew andrew. he... he wants the child. it's possibly a new chance for him to have a new life. not necessarily an ordinary life (years of sexual tension between him and his sister build up somehow to him raping a women they sorta kidnap/escaped with from an apartment after demon summoning, murder, and cannibalism) but it could be considered close enough if you squint and tilt your head. again, when writing the original piece i didn't really write with andrew and [reader]'s deeper relationship in mind, just the surface level stuff

andrew has come to care for [reader] to some extent, and the child makes him try to enforce that bond and relationship. he would reflect on his own parents and their parenting and how he raised ashley when it comes to his baby. trying to figure what to avoid (i think putting in the effort would be way better than what his parents did, though. it's not even a battle). he gets touchy feely with [reader]; sleeping in the same bed, holding their hand or resting it on their hip, brushing her hair, etc etc some of the stiff we've seen with ashley. i think he'd also talk to the baby bump, too.

[reader] isn't expected to kill people anymore or to do excessive physical labor. i don't think she takes part in the cannibalism as much either. i'm kinda leaving her vague because i want you guys to really just imprint on [reader] i guess when it comes to this situation. andrew would be a fairly good dad though. uh... sort of dozed off a bit trying to think about him as a dad. he would be way more attentive that his own parents, that's for sure. he's the voice of reason along with [reader] (ashley is that "cool aunt" that the kid loves), but andrew is also still a bit of a doormat or pushover. he can't stay too mad at this kids.

do i think andrew would force [reader] to marry him? maybe. it would probably be good for taxes and other legal documents but i don't know if he'd put such a high value on marriage. i think he'd like the intertwining aspect of it, the legal binding it brings. i doubt ashely would enjoy this but it's also dependent on your relationship.

mixing this idea with incest ideas because i can't help myself right now, fell free to skip this: andrew and a sibling [reader]. especially a younger one. i don't know but i kind of enjoy the idea of him during quarantine (or right after) just... losing control one night. it's not violent or loud or out of hate; it's quiet and gentle and out of frustration. he takes his younger baby sibling while they're sleeping as a way to just let it all out. the tension and stress and repression of his feelings for them... he just lets them go. ashley's dead asleep and so is [reader], as ling as he's quiet there are no immediate consequences to this action. he raised [reader] since they were a fucking baby and what a wonderful adult they had turned out to be (as wonderful as a graves could be).

aaaaahhh, i'm tired. sorry for the weird sleepy rant response. i feel like i should mention again: i have never been raped nor do i know friends or people personally who have been raped. i haven't really read anything scholarly about it so take all i say with a grain of salt and an open mind. thank you for requesting, 'nonnie. i love it when people ask for expansions or explanations in previous posts (reminds me of devious anon, i miss them)

anyway my eye saight is losing focus so i'll end it here. good day/night/evening whatever you are

----

coff-in