#they both struggle with the concept of being left behind

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (Part 14)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release Part 14 - Someone like her smut💦📍

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Where we left off: Alastor and Reader had a misunderstanding and a heavy talk on the back porch. He’d let it slip how deeply he felt but it was muffled by your thighs.

Part 14 Someone like her

Brady says the magic words after finally meeting his elusive radio man. But was that a good thing?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, masturbation, Ace Alastor is trying his best, little smut to start the day, Brenda exists, Reader is also trying her best but it’s less hot, mentions of abuse, thinly veiled racism, Insecure Alastor, an axe, Alastor is the deer and gator」

MDNI ☎️💚🏡

Forehead pressed against the wall of the bathroom, Alastor’s hand gripped the base of his cock and squeezed.

He’d been trying to masturbate more, hoping to prolong things when with you, but the action was just so pointless. Yes it felt good, but so did scratching his back when he had an itch. But there was no itch here. He couldn’t mentally stay in a romantic mindset when it was just fingers and running water. What intimacy existed there? What was the point? Male orgasms were for procreation and pleasure, were they not? He wasn’t going to knock up the drain or make the shower quiver so this seemed just wasteful. 

Images of your pleasured face ghosted behind his eyes. Nothing pointless about that. A twitch to the otherwise bored flesh in his grip. 

Wasteful.

Your laugh at watching Alastor march through the bedroom sopping wet and butt naked choked you when your eyes lowered to see he was also rock hard.

“Oh.” Was all you managed before his shower was soaking through your cotton top and powder blue skirt. “Oh.” Ravenous mouth at your jawline.

“I didn’t want to waste it.” His hips rutted into your side, the evidence of every place he touched were large and dark wet spots on your clothes. “Do you want to —?”

His fingers were already crawling down your thighs and gathering your skirt up. 

You always forgot his strength when looking at him. Until he was holding you up by the hips, for example, fucking you against the bedroom wall. Wet skin slapping against your thighs, panties swinging around your ankle with every thrust. A lovely way to start a Monday. 

The weekend had been spent with a very attentive and clearly apologetic Alastor. His hands had been more present on your body, always holding your hand or pulling your legs over his lap as you both read. Dinners with his feet tangled with yours. Nights with his head buried in your hair.

The words were moaned through his own mind, scared to let them go again.

I just love you so much.

Every time you sighed his name, he clenched his teeth to keep it back. He wouldn’t weaponize it. He’d struggled to keep the compelled confession buried into your lap before, but he could keep it together until the moment was happy and without the bitter taste of his disappointment still lingering on your tongue.

An enlightened gasp dripped into a breathy moan as you realized this must be the make up sex the ladies always talk about. You’d never understood the concept before then. 

He felt you tighten around him, yes, a much better use of arousal. The good thing about his years of experience before you was he had time to learn. To know when to quicken his pace and when to focus on depth. Quality over quantity, he thought.

His mind stayed there long after you finished and he went into work. Leaving you behind was difficult, a small wiggling worm of fear deep in his skull that’d you’d vanish if his body wasn’t touching yours. 

You’d taken off some time from work, partly out of sheer embarrassment and partly to keep the theater safe from Brady. Which meant when he left for work, you kissed him goodbye at the door. You both laughed into the small space between your lips immediately afterwards. 

“Hush.” You warned him, and he pretended to zip his lips shut and slip the imaginary key into your skirt pocket. 

Alastor was happy to hear Brady had been told he had a handful of nothing but he knew his clock was ticking. You’d recounted your time in the station and how angry and disappointed the other detective had seemed with Brady. Brady would be popping up as soon as possible, you warned. There was no way he was dropping the issue. He’d be knocking on Alastor’s office door in no time. 

Much sooner than Alastor had prepared for, but he was ever the performer. 

Brenda far too loudly announced two detectives were there for him. She was side eyeing them with a sneer he could almost appreciate when she popped her head in to yell it. 

“I’ll be right out.” Alastor set his work down and took a deep breath. Every piece of him wanted to rush from the room and strangle Brady on the office floor. He’d seen him many times before but the pesky detective didn’t know that. A tremble of excitement he shook away. Smile on, he left the office.

His observations came quick and loud as he saw Brady’s face in the daylight for the first time.

Bright eyes. Tired. Light hair. Pale. Clothes wrinkled. Sweat stains even though it was autumn already. 

The man beside him was new to Alastor, and Alastor couldn’t tell yet what to do with him. Taller, older, darker complexion. His expression was relaxed in comparison to Brady’s stressed one.

“Good afternoon, detectives. Alastor. It’s a pleasure.” He extended his hand but only Freeman moved to shake it.

Brady was staring with blatant scrutiny. Alastor was quite tall, and much leaner than he had anticipated. His hair was perfectly in place, with clean skin and neat glasses. Was this the right man?

“Edward Freeman. I am a big fan, sir. Your voice is made for radio.” Freeman shook Alastor’s with both of his own, not noticing his partner’s wide eyed horror. “Such a pleasure. I promise we won’t take too much of your time.”

Alastor could have cackled directly into Brady’s face but managed to keep himself in check, “A face for radio too! Ha ha ha,” his laugh was loud, genuinely amused with himself, “Well it’s always a treat to meet a listener.”

Brady thought he’d black out. He’d began his day humming with anticipation, the high of having a name and occupation making him dizzy all weekend. The shock of Freeman immediately cozying up to his prime (and sole) suspect was throwing him off balance.

He’d brought him along so he could show him he’d gotten the right man. He’d thought —- he’d been so sure Alastor would be some second rate employee with rough hands and thick arms. Not the pretty host working behind some desk. Weren’t there large spools of cable and big contraptions radio station employees lugged around? Where were those men?

A string bean of a human in thin circular glasses was charming the wits off his partner.

“Brady. We’re here to discuss an important matter regarding your girlfriend.” Brady leaned in to separate the other two men and their budding camaraderie.

“Girlfriend?!” Brenda choked on her coffee, her desk just some feet beside them. “You’re confused. I’d know if he had a girl.”

“Thank you, Brenda.” Alastor said through a forced smile, “She is right though. I am unattached. Lifelong bachelor.”

“That’s interesting. Because when we picked her up at the burlesque theater,” he was cut off by a shriek.

“Nude dancing?! Sir! My—-you! Alastor would never! He is a man of means and class! I-,” Brenda’s hands were aimlessly shuffling time cards. “The only theater he frequents is the cinema.”

“Brenda.” Alastor laughed, not taking his eyes off of Brady, “Please. Let the man finish.”

“But you’d never! This is slander!”

“No slander. We picked her up for prostitution and her,” again he was drowned out by the receptionist. 

Brenda was on her feet, a second from foaming at the mouth, “Out! You get out of this office at once!” 

“Sure, why don’t we take this to the station.” 

“You want a local celebrity,” Alastor’s eye twitched as Brenda screeched out the words, “to be marched down there like a common criminal! I’m calling the station, you’re mad.” 

“Thank you, Brenda!” Alastor hissed, words heavy, “Let’s continue this in my office, gentlemen.” His arm swung out to gesture to the open door. 

Brenda was left fiddingly with her pearls in horror. 

Alastor followed the men in and leaned back against his desk casually, offering them the two chairs. 

“So, now that we’re … free from that, what were you saying?” He tried to chuckle away the chaos, one hand gently smoothing his hair back.

“We took in a woman last week for prostitution. Charges dropped but  — her friends said you were her beau.” Freeman leaned back too, crossing his legs at the ankle as they stretched out in front of him, “Radio man named Alastor? Not too many of those so, thought we’d just come by and check.”

Brady stood near the door, refusing to sit. “So. Gonna tell me there’s some more Alastors in New Orleans? Or gonna be straight with us?”

Alastor nodded, sighing through his nose. You’d filled him in already on the story.

“Burlesquer, right? Pretty thing with the long lashes and sharp tongue?” He looked up at Brady over his glasses, looking as boyish as a man his age could. 

“So you are her fella?” Freeman’s back straightened. He hadn’t expected that.

“Wouldn’t go that far… I’m embarrassed to admit it but yes I did take out a singer some time ago. Dancer too, I was told. But, I,” his hands slid in his pockets and he shrugged his shoulders, “I had a lovely time with her.” He gave Freeman a shy smirk, “I just didn’t want anything serious. Paid for her cab last time I saw her but I didn’t give her a dime for anything else.”

Brady stared at every inch of the man before him. His white button up was loose at the arms but wasn’t appearing to hide some powerful physique that said ‘I drag bodies around town.’

“We were told you’d been going to see her for quite some time.” Brady had been prepared for every reply.

Alastor furrowed his brow and pretended to think, hand coming from his pocket to adjust his glasses, “Talking about the nice little joint near the park?”

“Yeah.” Brady smiled. “So you admit it.”

“I loved going there. I first noticed her over a few weekends. Asked her out there, too. But after a few nights out she seemed a little… not worth the trouble, I’ll say.” He grimaced, “I really sound like a rake, huh?” He looked to Freeman, asking for the man’s acceptance with his eyes.

Freeman chuckled at the suggestion, “Not at all! Good looking man such as yourself, nice job, no wife. I’d be sowing my oats so to speak too. We’re just hunting down some people for questioning regarding a missing manager.”

Brady thought his head would snap with how quickly he turned to Freeman. He was saying too much.

“He’s uh, drats what’s her name?” Freeman turned around to Brady. Brady looked up to Alastor expectantly.

“Oh! She gave me some fake name. Winter or… August. I didn’t press the matter.” Alastor walked back to his desk and sat down, trying to get eye level with Freeman who was the easier of the two to play, “Missing manager? I frequent a lot of clubs looking for talent. Maybe I knew the guy. What’s his name?”

“Tommy Dupre.” Brady said it sternly. “And I’m the one leading the investigation.”

A twitch to the corner of Alastor’s smile, “Sorry detective, I assumed this here was your superior. He just has … an aura of experienced professionalism to him. Now where was I… a manager,” he shook his head, “Was he at The Bandstand by any chance?” His fingers were flipping through his rolodex of business cards. Brady noted how clean his nails were. But not suspiciously so, not something that seemed overly tended to. He shook his head again more firmly then. “No, never formally met the man at least.”

“He was your burlesquer’s manager.”

Alastor leaned back and crossed his arms, “I never went to her work and I truly don’t visit burlesque theaters. Can't risk my reputation.” Few people out of the club scene knew his face and name so that was a load of shit, but he hoped they wouldn’t stop and consider that much. “We run a clean show here.”

“Here’s the issue, sir.” Freeman patted the tops of his thighs, “Your Ms. Doe-,” Alastor’s brow furrowed in momentary confusion.

“Oh! Ha, clever. I see what you did there.” He laughed, it was light and made Freeman nod his head in thanks.

“She got roughed up real bad by Mr. Dupre around the time ya’ll were seen together.  He disappeared soon after. So, naturally….we wanted to see if you knew anything about what happened to him.”

“Doesn’t shock me to hear that.” Alastor's voice was high pitched and airy. His nonchalance was grating to the younger of the two detectives.

Brady rolled his eyes. Alastor was definitely the man Beth mentioned; a daisy. The kind of man to fret over a stained tie or wet shoes.

“People in …those kinds of establishments can’t expect civility.” His nails were digging through the cotton of his pants. It made him sick to say it. How many days did he kiss your bruises? How long had they lasted? Longer than Tommy, that was for sure. Outlived him by quite some time. His smile spread. Brady noticed it, clearing his throat. 

“What’s the smile for?”

“Ah,” Alastor hid his mouth with the back of his hand, he couldn’t bite back the glee of remembering Tommy beg, “Sorry. I’m just feeling quite grateful I didn’t stick around to be pulled into some dame’s drama. This is exactly why I remain untethered.”

“Wish I’d had that foresight…I’m only joking. My Donna’s a blessing and a half.” Freeman quickly retracted the comment. 

A moment of quiet as they all looked at each other. A natural dead end.

Freeman turned back in his chair to look at Brady once more, this was his impromptu interview. He’d begged Freeman to take the early lunch. Brady promised him this was the guy and that if it wasn’t, he’d never bring it up again.

So he was staring at his partner waiting for the never again to start. 

Brady chewed the inside of his cheek, mind bouncing through thoughts and theories and observations.

This man in front of him was soft. He was feminine in some aspects, definitely quite lanky and seemingly devoid of real muscle. Brady hadn’t imagined his killer to be concerned about style or fashion, yet this man clearly put a lot into his appearance. He couldn’t imagine him killing anyone… perhaps a gun?

“Got any hobbies?”

“Kenny.” Freeman chided.

“Sir.” Brady added it sarcastically.

Alastor whistled, “Besides jazz and piano? I fish. Uh,” Alastor looked for threads of truth to add to the web, “I garden quite a bit, actually. Love to dance.”

Of course he did.  “Sports?”

“I don’t watch nor listen to much of that.”

“No,” an exasperated sigh, “Do you play any sports?”

“Oh!” Another casual laugh that grated Brady’s senses, “No, no. I wouldn’t pretend I’m an athletic man.” 

“Hunting is a popular pastime around here, you ever go out shooting?”

“No sir, not my scene.” Alastor leaned back and swiveled his chair side to side. 

No hunting, really? Brady’s brows rose in suspicion, “….you from New Orleans?”

Freeman crossed his legs, a simple act that somehow conveyed a rising loss of patience.

“Born and raised, detective. Native son if there ever was one.”

He slipped out his notepad and slapped it against the fleshy part of his hand. Brady’s spirit was withering. 

A mistake?

“Understood.” Pushing off of the wall.

“Sorry to cause all this fuss over … my tryst with a dancer not too long ago.” Another bashful bachelor smile. “But it was just that. Fun. I never met her employer. I never even went to her shows. As for the place by the park-,”

“Beth’s.”

Alastor grinned to hide the flinch, “My doe, as you put it sir, was a real canary. But I haven’t been back there since I stopped seeing her. I’m sure if you asked they’d tell you the same.” The phone rang and Alastor apologized, putting a finger up, “Yes, Brenda?” The incessant woman asked what was taking so long. He smiled and nodded, “Thank you, tell them I’ll just be another minute.”

“We’ll be heading out. It seems I need to— to re-examine some things. Dig a little deeper.” Before Brady could retrieve his card to offer it to the radio host, Alastor was handing him his.

“Call anytime, but word to the wise. Brenda will answer first.” Alastor let out a loud and singular ‘ha!’

He rose to walk them out and Brady extended his hand again for him to shake, his stomach curdling at the touch. When the detective squeezed and shook his hand so hard his arm was moving up to the elbow he just laughed. He kept his own grip loose.

The limp and slender hand in his was disappointing. A final nail in his coffin, soft metal bending as it was struck.

Freeman smiled and hopped up, “Been a pleasure!”

Alastor took back his hand from Brady and wiped it off against his vest as soon as the men were turned around.

“Apologies for the disturbance, ma’am.” Brady kept his gaze down as he passed Brenda. Freeman set his card on her desk as he walked past.

“That’s a bunch of applesauce.” She hissed, refusing to stand.

Alastor’s mother taught him many things. Of this world and the other. Of the spirits always roaming and waiting. Of blue ceilings and birds hitting windows.

She warned him of people with heaviness,  people who gathered bad energy like rain on a flat roof. That weight attracted likewise things. A gravity would form and pull in more and more darkness. 

You’d mentioned a storm, and now Alastor was hearing that drip drip drip of the cracking roof. 

He’d been taught to steer clear of those people with that darkness, because you don’t want to be there when the roof caved in. 

She’d likened it to the sword of Damocles, don’t be so close you get cut when the blade finally drops. Don’t become collateral damage. 

When his skin touched Brady’s, he felt that heaviness. The gravity. We’re you both slipping down the sloping pull of his swirling negativity?

He felt the urge to spit, which was uncouth and unlike him. Brenda was talking loudly to him but she was deep under the ocean and muffled perfectly well. His drunken mind had been wrong about many things, but one line of thinking had been on the money.

Something had to be done. An accident playing out in slow motion before him, threatening to take you both down with it. 

A chill, insidious and violent made him turn on his heels and shut the door with force. There it was again, that fight or flight feeling. Twice in nearly as many days. Never did Alastor feel insecure in situations of life or death, not literal life or death that was. He didn’t care about dying. 

The thought of losing you was that first trigger, but what was causing this one? What was his gut trying to warn him about now?

Distance was needed. He needed to get as far from that detective and his gravitational pull as possible. Perhaps not physically, but in every other sense. There was safety in that, he could feel it just over the disorienting whirl of fear. 

If fear was a lark in his chest it’s little spine cracked and popped as it grew and mutated into a rageful osprey, anger opening his lungs and sinuses as blood rushed with renewed vigor. This was Brady’s fault, entirely. He was ruining everything. Alastor finally had what felt like all of the thj he wanted and deserved (anger dampening his usual insecurity of what was meant for him) and Brady was going to tear it apart. 

There was a struggle to decide how to proceed. He thought perhaps telling you would bring him clarity, but if you asked him to not do anything at all he couldn’t be sure he’d be able to stop from lying to your face about his intentions. 

A flash of confidence knowing he’d never lied to you died quickly, oh, he had lied to you. He’d lied to you in the alley before leaving to prepare to kill Tommy. He’d said it was the greater good of the community. A stain on his otherwise pristine morality when it came to you. 

“How could they?”

Alastor’s head popped up, Brenda had opened his door unannounced and continued her raving. 

“How could who do what?” He asked, smile small.

“Those detectives! Accuse you of debauchery!” 

He imagined telling her how his morning started, fucking the nude dancer against his bedroom wall, arleady shacking up out of wedlock. Maybe it’d kill Brenda? That’d be convenient. 

“I wonder if they are even real cops…I promise, I won’t let that nonsense back into this office, Alastor.” She gave him a thumbs up and left, leaving the door ajar. 

Daylight was already creeping away sooner and sooner as the seasons began to change. The first day Alastor was gone and you were completely alone in his home for an extended period of time was passed in an awkward boredom. There wasn’t much to do…his house was kept tidy, food didn’t take much time, and you had no means to get into town. So you listened through his record collection, carefully turning the vinyls over with delicate fingers. You’d heard oils from your hand could ruin the grooves. No idea if that was true, but you couldn’t risk it. Alastor’s job kept relatively regular hours, so when you knew he had most likely left work you headed out front to wait. It was a foreign thing to do, and a little embarrassing. Dogs waited for their masters to come home. You stuffed the comparison down, knowing you were once again comparing apples to oranges. Worse than that, dogs to yourself. 

“Welcome home!” You waited for the car door to close before greeting him, worrying over the timing. He froze between the car and the wooden steps. You stopped your swinging on the porch swing, noticing how odd it was to see someone completely still like that. You remembered the deer along the road. “What’s wrong?”

Every thought flew out his head and into the early setting sun. An odd deja vu came over him. He hadn’t heard those words in literal years. “No one has said that to me…since my mother died.”

Oh. 

Oh. That was….sad. You grimaced. “Should I not say it then?”

“No!” He came to life, “I mean, yes. No, You should say it. If you want. It’s nice.” Staccato sentences as he took the three steps in just two. He leaned over on a novel instinct for a kiss, and you leaned up to meet him. 

Another moment as you parted and both of you realized how odd the situation was. The killer and his dancer playing house. For a brief second, maybe heaven mistook you for something normal and good. When you smiled, trying to not say the obvious as you always did, he decided to not mention Brady. His first night coming home to you shouldn’t have to compete with that news. Tomorrow, he decided. He’d just….leave out which day Brady had stopped by. Not a lie, just an excluded, superfluous detail.

As you ate your dinner and he recounted his day, you made a decision of your own. 

“Hey, Saturday, can you drop me off downtown for a bit? I need to change my shoes and do a little shopping.”

You needed the gift, to set the mood for your confession. You’d survived your first fight, you didn’t combust into a ball of fire when you kissed him goodbye for work, it made sense to do it now. 

“Oh, did you want company? I don’t mind going out.” His little smile made it hard to deny him.

“Ah well, my friend is still staying over at my place and she may get uneasy with a man around. And my shopping….is at the kind of places men shouldn’t go. Frilly lacy places.” A terrible liar. “You should do something fun for Alastor! I’ll be maybe…four hours or so.”

He chewed slowly, since the misunderstanding he was a little more nervous than usual. You didn’t want him to join you, were you worried Brady would see? He shook his head, confusing you.

“...excuse me?” You laughed, “No?”

His head popped up, he still sometimes forgot you were right there and not on a phone, “Sorry, I was thinking about what to do with myself. No problem, sweetheart. You can just call me when you’re ready and I’ll head back into town. I’ll stick around the house, get some stuff ready for winter.”

“Perfect!” Perfect. 

So it was decided. He would tell you tomorrow that Brady came by his office. And you’d tell him Saturday that you were in love with him. 

That was the short lived plan. He couldn’t manage to wait. When the silence of the night settled and you had turned over to try and fall asleep, he broke. 

“I really hate keeping secrets from you.” His fingers were pulling and pushing at the edge of the blanket. 

You have secrets? You turned around and sat up. 

“Brady and his partner came by today to my office, like you’d expected. I didn’t want to ruin our day, knowing how rarely we will live traditionally. But it’s just bothering the hell out of me.” His hands came to cover his cheeks and crawl into his hair out of stress. An overreaction, the weekend having truly discombobulated the man. 

A beat of confusion, tense for Alastor but void of anything for you, until you burst into a relaxed laughter, “You’re ridiculous. You were really eaten up huh?”

“It isn’t funny!”

“It’s a litlte funny.” you pulled his head down onto your lap, “You coulda told me. It doesn't ruin anything. I told you he was going to look for you. I didn’t think he’d do it the next business day, but still.” He shifted his body to lie on his side and let you take off his glasses and set them on your side table. “Do you think he still suspects you?”

He thought about it. A little.

Maybe.

Brady seemed dejected when he had left, but he could see the wheels turning in his head as he was still searching for a way to make this puzzle pieces fit. 

“Probably. His partner seemed to believe me. A listener, it turns out.” Alastor pouted, still upset at your laughter. 

“That’s hilarious. I bet it pissed him off to no end, right?”

“He looked shocked. It was difficult to not laugh.” He let his legs fall off the side of the bed so he could turn onto his back and look up at you. “I told him you were a fling, that I had my fun and then disappeared because you were trouble. I said nude dancers getting beat up should be expected. I don’t mean that.”

“Of course you don’t. I remember your face when you saw through my makeup. Sure didn't look expected to me.”

His legs drew up, knees pressed together. “Was it still a good day?”

“You told me what was on your mind instead of driving yourself mad about it. It was a perfect day.” The open window let in enough light to see his stress melt away from the corner of his eyes. 

He sat up and kissed your nose, “Thank you. You can sleep now.”

“Oh, I've been asleep the whole time. You’re gonna have to do this all again in the morning.”

“That’s not funny.” 

You kissed his cheek and he smiled away the frown before settling back onto his side of the bed to earnestly sleep.

Flowers, you thought. You should buy flowers on Saturday, too. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor nerves hadn’t settled yet, even if he slept well beside you. Every day he came home and you were still there felt like he’d been holding his breath the entire drive. During lunch he’d call the house so you could talk and eat together, in a sense. The conversation eased him, a confirmation you still liked him. An embarrassing fear he couldn’t let you on to. 

He didn’t understand you spent the week calling record shops in search of something specific. Plotting exactly how you’d do it. You’d mastered the phonograph in the room beside the kitchen and found an old vase in the back of the cupboard. 

The panic didn’t settle for you either though. It just shifted to the confession from Brady. As if through osmosis, Brady was now Alastor’s main concern as soon as their hands shook. You were less scared, as he really did seem to be dismissed by his colleague from what you saw. Dejected and forlorn from what Alastor had described. 

Alastor was honest with you that he left work early to check on Brady midweek. He was practically dancing through the kitchen when he reported Brady went home on time for the first night in what could have been weeks. And he did so looking like shit.

And he felt like shit. When they left the radio station, Freeman gave him the silent treatment the entire ride back to work. He opened his mouth to offer an alternative theory, perhaps you or Alastor had a brother, but Freeman immediately shut him down.

“Stop. Enough.” He snapped from his desk. “It is over, Kenny. Let it go. Maybe some monster is out there doing all this crazy shit you think they are but it’s not this man nor this lady so just fucking drop it.”

He sat quietly the rest of the work day, thinking over everything again. It still felt right, but Alastor didn’t look right. Maybe it was a group, some new gang in town. Perhaps Alastor had some business with them. 

Staring at his neatly folded map of downtown, his fingers slid over the last known locations of the various missing people over the past year. 

Is downtown just inherently dangerous, he wondered. He supposed the map lined up with the jazz scene, and where there is dance and liquor there’s crime.

He went home to his wife and startled her with his promptness. While she was elated, he felt hollow. Purposeless. Freeman had warned him he’d invented this conspiracy to make work more interesting. Maybe that was right. Life was boring. Everything was so steady and stable. Nothing exciting anymore. It’s possible. He could have imagined a connection. 

But his wife accidentally stoked the dying flame of his suspicions. 

When he told her everything, about Alastor and the dancer he chased down and the missing Tommy, she hummed. 

“He could be like that Holmes man in Chicago.” She smiled from across the meat and potatoes she’d slow cooked over the day.

Brady asked what she meant. 

“He killed all these people at his hotel. On the outside he was a very fine looking man! Respected doctor, or something.” She took her time to chew, leaving Brady waiting for the point, “Turns out his hotel had some secret dungeon where he killed people. I’m fuzzy on the details, but, he hung for it. Maybe your guy has a secret room in his house or a cabin in the woods.”

He would have kissed her but he was too tired to move. As she continued on, changing to the topic of novels and then movies, he pushed the potatoes around his plate. 

No way work would listen to him if he suggested it. He’d lost all of his goodwill. But, as a citizen, he could maybe just….look into the public records for the radio man. Any convenient structures he owned. No one needed to know, no embarrassment if he was wrong again.

Just, one more check. To be absolutely sure. For his peace of mind. 

“So he murdered the actress for threatening to reveal he was only half white! It was a real shock. I swear talkies just get more and more intriguing.” She beamed sweetly across the table, happy to have him home, “By Hitchcock. Isn’t that a hoot?”

He nodded absentmindedly, “Sounds fun, dear.”

She let the misplaced comment go, and moved to turn on the radio. Something to fill the silence. She wondered if her favorite program was on, though it was a little late for that. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day finally came, your highly anticipated and scheduled confession. Saturday morning you slipped on your shoes, pushing back thoughts of everything they’d seen, and slid into the car. You had a game plan. Apartment, get your stash and change out your shoes. Head to the phonograph shop on Calliope and grab the record. Flower shop, something bright and fragrant. Stop by the theater for a bottle of whatever they were willing to part with. Call him from there to pick you up behind the building.

Flawless.

Honestly, the easy part.

Alastor dropped you off in front of your building and you kissed him hurriedly. You didn’t need Ephi bounding down the steps and introducing herself. 

You didn’t need Ephi, full stop.

“I’ll call you from the theater so I can wait inside. Lo-,” Your mouth opened to say it, as you’d been practicing it in your head all week, “Lucky me I’m still welcome there.” A quick save.

You waved him off and bounded up the steps. Ephi answered when you knocked, hair disheveled and still wearing the dress she must have worn out the night before.

A familiar dress.

“Who said you could wear my clothes?!” You kicked the door closed behind you.

Ephi fell back onto your bed with a creaking of the metal springs, “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

Barely a second into the room and you were already reeling with anger. What a skill she had.

Shoes off, you threw them on top of the closet out of her natural reach and searched for something flatter. Not too flat though. Alastor always looked too good for you to look like you didn’t care for what was fashionable.

Deep breaths, you grabbed the dresser with both hands and wretched it from the wall, startling Ephi back awake.

“What the fuck? Are you taking the furniture?! It’s a fucking dress.”

Relief as you saw the handkerchief still taped to the backboard of the shelf. Ripping it off, you shoved it into your bag. No need to count it, had Ephi found the cash the entire thing would be gone already. 

“Are you hiding money around your apartment…,” it wasn’t a question so much as an oddly worded accusation.

Your march to the door paused, briefly entertaining carrying your remaining clothes around with you but abandoning the idea. Let her borrow them for now, you were busy today.

You were gone without a goodbye, anger simmering away and evaporating with every block. 

As the distance between your problem and you became greater, the gap was closing in on Alastor and his.

He was in the kitchen splashing his face with water,  dusty from sweeping the porch, when he heard a car door slam shut. Not a normal sound for him to hear. Even more out of place than a ‘welcome home’. A moment of concern as he quickly dried his hands, maybe you had gotten a ride home already. It was possible he missed your call, but he’d kept the windows open to hear the phone. 

When he came to the front door, no one was there. A car was parked a ways behind his own though. Alastor stepped out and looked around the wrap around porch before turning back and going to the back door. Past the stairs and the kitchen doorway, he could see the shape of a man. He was standing in front of the greenhouse with both hands on his hips, staring at it. Bright hair reflecting the sun.

The screen door whined as Alastor opened it, announcing him much sooner than he had wanted. It was finally happening. The moment that was both inevitable and fiercely guarded against. 

“Census information is quite easy to find with a name like yours.”

Alastor tried to muster a hospitable smile, “Detective Brady. To what do I owe the sudden visit?”

Brady turned around and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “I need to go get a warrant?”

The air between them tightened. “Not at all, did you want to come inside?” 

Brady nodded, a smug smile and a wink, “Sure do.”

Alastor returned to the kitchen for the key, grabbing a small paring knife and placing it in the back pocket of his slacks. Sharp and quick. 

“Wasn’t expecting guests…,” he admitted as he came back down the clean steps. He was never expecting guests, but he had been expecting this. 

“Good.” Brady clapped his hands together, “Quite the building ya got here.” He followed Alastor in and immediately looked up to the tall ceiling. “An uncommon thing to have. Only seen them at real fancy public places.”

Alastor turned right, following the winding path of busy shelves and potted trees with a practiced ease. Brady watched him slip between two large plants and hesitated.

With a hand on his gun, be pushed through.

“Ya know what my wife and I were just talking about?” He followed close behind. He couldn’t see Alastor but he could hear the leaves rustling. “H. H. Holmes.”

“Another missing manager?” Alastor asked from the other side of some crowded shelves.

“It’s thought he killed 9 people up in Chicago.” Brady emerged from the makeshift jungle to see Alastor standing in the center. 

“Busy man!” Alastor stood with his hands behind his back, sheathed in his pockets. “This is where the magic happens!” He nodded to the stainless steel table. “My gardening space.”

Brady looked at the table, then up to the high ceilings again. He took a step toward the table and crouched down.

His heels sunk in. Standing, he pressed his shoe in the soil around the table. Backing off he then tested the ground some feet away. It was noticeably firmer. “Ground sure is soft over there.”

“Water! Turns out plants love the stuff. Who knew!” Alastor’s fingers curled around the knife’s handle, “I prune, propagate, and repot them here and rinse it off after. Due to the shade of the table, the ground tends to stay wet longer.” He wondered if Brady had told anyone where he was. Maybe Freeman? 

The whole thing could be expedited by letting him bleed out on the greenhouse floor. Just a few swipes and this could all be over. He could maybe even have him gone before you called. 

Another little secret. Just one. Brady’s life was an insignificant detail.

Plausible, the detective thought. Brady examined the floor closer, unaware of Alastor’s eyes locked on his neck. He didn’t see much of a soft spot. It’d be improbable to bury all the bodies in such a small space. He’d have to dig too deep. 

“So you actually do like to garden?” He asked.

Alastor laughed, “No, that was a lie. This is all meticulously maintained for aesthetics.” 

Brady’s own laugh was dry in reply, the joke not funny or appreciated, “Night gardening?” He pointed his chin up to the light hanging above them.

“I prefer early mornings, before work.” Alastor leaned back on his heels, he’d waited for this conversation for years. It was almost fun. Brady didn’t know how predictable his arrival had been on some vague level.

Brady nodded and motioned for Alastor to lead him out. He didn’t want the man behind him.

As they snaked their way out again, Alastor fought the sickening feeling in his stomach to just do it. 

But he’d never acted quite so impulsively. He normally had a few hours to think it out beforehand. 

He’d been thinking this out for months now in a way, though, hadn’t he?

Alastor locked the door after Brady stepped out and Brady looked around the land. He couldn’t see any fences, but saw on his way in just how spread out the other homes were. 

“How far is the property line, if you don’t mind me asking? Seems to be quite a large parcel.” He had a rough idea from the paperwork he’d found. 

“It’s about 15 acres, from what I recall.” It was exactly 14.2 acres according to the paperwork. He knew every step by heart. 

As he watched Brady eye the land with a dismissive glance, he realized he’d never killed anyone at his home. It didn’t seem to be a good idea. Like they’d taint the land. Plus, killing the cop in the backyard was about as opposite of what you’d asked of him as he could get. 

The detective slapped his notebook against his palm and whistled, “Radio pays well, huh?”

“Better than a detective, maybe. But this was all my mother’s land.” He said it with pride, one hand leaving his pocket to gesture at the house and beyond. 

“Your mother. And she… how exactly did someone like her get her hands on a plot like this?” Brady squinted at the tree line, knowing full well how he said it. “Quite a bit of land for someone of her… background.” He quickly turned his full body to Alastor, “You see that movie, ‘Murder!’, by Hitchcock? My wife was saying how interesting it was over dinner the other night. Your receptionist mentioned you like the movies.”

Alastor bristled, he’d seen the film and picked up the tone being taken,  “Did you want to see anything else, Kenneth? Or did you drive all the way here to quiz me on your wife's morbid interests?”

“Detective Brady.” He corrected. 

“Maybe in the Orleans parish.” Alastor took a step toward him. He reveled in the confused expression Brady made. “Oh you didn’t realize when you crossed the lake? This is St. Tammany. You’re out of jurisdiction.” Another step. “So I’ll call you whatever I damn well please.”

Brady finally noticed the dwindling space between them and the shadow of the house creeping over Alastor’s face. “Maybe I should head out and get that warrant.”

Alastor’s arms went out in a shrug, “Ah, well, good luck finding a judge to approve you harassing a law abiding land owner for…what exactly? A drugged out criminal who stopped showing up to work? Forgive me for not holding my breath. Now kindly get the fuck off my mother’s property. “  

Brady shook his head, not able to do much more. He couldn’t process the truth in what Alastor had said. “Have a good day, Alastor.”

“And you have a safe night, Kenneth.”

Brady stopped, hand curling into a fist that Alastor didn’t fail to notice. 

“Is that some kind of threat?” It was the way he dragged out the two words. The gleeful range in which he said them. 

“Not at all. A warning really, there’s been some unhinged man harassing dancers lately. Demanding their private information, accusing them of silly crimes. Has the station not heard?” Alastor’s finger came to his chin inquisitively, “Perhaps I should give them a call. Who was your boss again. Freeman, was it?”

Brady felt his stomach drop, “What did you say.” If Alastor hadn’t been with you since before the assault, how did he know that Brady had been struggling to track you down?

“As a man about town who runs in important circles, word travels fast of bothersome people. Helps us learn where to avoid.”

Brady was still holding onto hope that Alastor was your man but now, his throat ran dry. He got more than that.

A man who ran in various circles of the nightlife scene. 

A man above the fray, a position afforded to him by the respect of his job.

A man people talked to often, therefore a man people saw everywhere. So it was never odd that he was always in the places where people went missing. He was ubiquitous. Where the jazz played, Alastor was there. 

A man with no wife to complain so his nights were free. 

A large piece of land. A chip on his shoulder. 

“You son of a bitch…I didn’t tell you Tommy had been involved in drugs. I was right.” The sentence got quieter and softer as he trailed on until he could only whisper, “You killed him.”

Alastor watched the color drain from Brady’s face as the realization hit, but the ‘son’ comment blanketed his frontal cortex and dampened impulse control, “On second thought; yes.”

It was just an expression, son of a bitch, but it’d been the wrong one to use so carelessly. Alastor’s heart was pounding in his ears and behind his eyes.

The detective kept his gaze locked on Alastor as he fished out his keys. His hand shook violently as he tried to get the car door key in his fingers. “Yes what?” Glancing down for a fraction of a second to check he had the right one. 

“That was a threat.”

Alastor’s hand twitched, he fought the rage bubbling up his throat. His vision was beginning to turn red around the edges. He could hear Aubrey squeaking out the first syllable of that damn word just behind his left ear.

Perhaps he was the blade hanging over Brady’s head. 

With even paces he walked over to the stump where he chopped wood and pulled the axe out, “Ya know! Something about you makes my fucking skin crawl.” He pointed it at Brady, the detective taking note of the arm strength needed to hold the unevenly heavy tool steady and parallel to the ground. “I do hope for your sake this is our final meeting. You should leave now.” His head titled to the left, “And keep your nose clean, Kenneth. It’s a dangerous time for bad men in New Orleans.”

Brady walked backwards to his car as Alastor advanced briskly with the blade still raised. When they reached the front porch Brady turned and booked it, glancing behind to see Alastor standing beside the porch on foot worn grass.

As the car started Alastor dropped the axe until it’s flat top of the blade rested on the ground and he leaned his weight onto it akin to a cane. His free hand’s fingers waved goodbye before dropping down to his side limply. He stood there with eyes fixed and body still as a predator waiting for its opportunity. How many gators had Brady watched from the shore with just that look? He peeled out, sight unseen as he blindly backed onto the unpaved road, and made a beeline to the nearest phone. 

He had to tell someone. He was right. He had been right the whole time. Alastor killed Tommy Dupre. And there was no doubt in Brady’s swirling mind that you knew that fact. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖  ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei ,  @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk  , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf ,  @fizzled-phoenix   , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk   , @bontensbabygirl  @smoky000

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@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

[thatonegayship]

I had to

Wait, does the cheating thing on the bond always works? bcs that would be kinda freaky for R!Dipper like imagine you get pinned down by someone in the corner of a br or smthng and then said person kissed you and proceeded to explode into red mist and you literally have no idea what happened.

Also, would the constellation mark be a "cursed" Mark over the years, like you would give birth to a baby and the doctor says "😟 I am so sorry ma'am,,, I'm afraid your baby has the Cipher Companion mark. ( could also be something equally as science-y like Ursa Major, Constellation Calamation, etc idk)" And you just burst into tears.

Would that mean that dipper would get into a special program(demon wrangling program or smthng, demonologist? Maybe)? Or would the parents hide it away hoping that Bill would never take their child away?

(Sorry this au is just very interesting to me,,,, I hope u get more motivation, keep writing author 💪)

These are all options! The fun part of reincarnation AU being left ambiguous is that technically any of them could happen.

[littleredwolf]

The Sleepover

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Words: 1,740

Summary: Bucky and Y/N have been dating for a while but he is yet to spend the night at her place. After breaking down barriers and allowing himself to drop his guard, Bucky soon decides it’s finally time to take the next step. 

Warnings: Mentions of Bucky’s PTSD/recovery 

A/N: This was inspired by the scene in TFATWS that shows Bucky waking up on his apartment floor. It’s such a visceral moment that sheds light on just how much trauma he carries with him, and I wanted to bring some lightness to that in the form of Y/N. Long story short, I just wanted our favourite super soldier to receive the comfort he so desperately needs and deserves.

--

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard the unmistakable roar of Bucky’s motorcycle pulling up outside, and you launched yourself off the couch to greet him. The two of you had been dating for a little over four months now but tonight was the first time he was staying over and you were practically vibrating with excitement. 

You had met a year ago when you’d been paired together on a scouting mission in Bucharest, spending an intensive four weeks trailing a suspected arms dealer. After spending the better half of a month shacked up together in a dingy apartment, it was inevitable you'd open up to one another eventually. After months of skirting around your feelings and your friends encouraging you both to speak up, the two of you had eventually plucked up the courage to confess your feelings and the rest, as the saying goes, was history. 

Bucky had been a true gentleman from the very beginning and had confessed early on that he'd wanted to take things slow - it had been a long time since he'd courted a woman and thanks to his coloured past he'd all but given up on the prospect of love, so the concept of a relationship was one he still sometimes struggled to get his head around. 

You understood completely and had made every effort not to overwhelm him. You were fully aware of his trauma and the suffering he'd endured and endeavoured to provide him with a calm, safe space that allowed him to let his guard down in a way he was comfortable with.

Over the last few months he'd gotten much better with touch and now it was at a point where he practically craved it. Whether he was holding your hand, laying his head in your lap while you watched TV or wrapping his arms around you from behind while you were cooking dinner, Bucky loved touch and would always find an excuse to be near you or touching you in some way. You were more than happy to indulge his needs and fussed over him at every opportunity, joking that he was like an overgrown puppy when it came to affection.

You could have cried with how sweet he’d been when he’d kissed you for the first time - he was so careful as he’d tenderly pressed his lips to yours, as though expecting to break you, and in that moment it had dawned on you that he probably wasn’t used to being so gentle towards another human being. 

It was so fulfilling witnessing this once broken man rebuilding and flourishing in his new life, and you felt truly honoured that he wanted you to be a part of it. 

At the sound of a knock at the door your excitement grew to an almost immeasurable amount, and you took a moment to gather yourself before answering. 

You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d gone to bed alone after spending an evening with Bucky, aching for him to be beside you, and although you understood and respected his reasons for not staying you couldn’t help the sting of loneliness that crawled in whenever he left at the end of an evening.

The sight of him standing in your doorway with an overnight bag slung over his shoulder was one you’d never dared to believe you’d witness, yet here he was, casually leaning against the doorframe as he waited for you to answer the door. 

“Hey Buck,” you grinned, stepping forward to greet him with a kiss which he eagerly welcomed. Wrapping his arms around you, he guided you backwards into your apartment, dropping his bag and kicking the door to a close behind him. You were breathless when he pulled away, staring up at him in awe.  

“Wow, that was…just, wow,” you marvelled, completely lost for words. 

“I could hear your heartbeat so I thought I’d ease some of your nerves,” he smirked, and your cheeks reddened at his confession. 

“Dammit Barnes, I told you not to use your super hearing on me. What if I was in the bathroom!?”

“You think I haven’t heard you pee before?” His laughter - one of your favourite sounds - echoed around the room as you shot him a horrified glare, and he quickly pulled you into his embrace to ease your embarrassment. 

“I’m reconsidering this sleepover already,” you grumbled into his chest as you wrapped your arms around his waist, breathing in his leathery scent. He chuckled and kissed the top of your head. 

“Come on doll, why don't you show me where I’ll be sleeping.”

You immediately perked up at his words - which you suspected was his plan - and with a grin you grabbed his bag and led him to the bedroom to unpack.

–

The evening passed like any other - you cooked dinner, played some board games, and ended the night cuddled up on the couch with a movie - but instead of falling asleep in Bucky's arms like you usually did, you felt wide awake. 

Bucky switched off the TV as you began to tidy away your empty glasses and snacks, and an awkward silence hovered over the room as you both pondered how to navigate the rest of the evening. 

"So, sweetheart…what do you usually do at this point?" Bucky broke the silence as he came to lean against the counter beside you.    

"Well, usually, once you've left I go to bed," you replied, realising that the suggestion of going to bed may be misinterpreted and quickly adding, "but we don't have to do that yet if you're not tired." 

Bucky's hand came to rest on your arm and you looked up to find him smiling reassuringly. 

"It's okay, doll. I'm happy to go to bed," he murmured, trailing his hand down to entwine his fingers with yours and leading you to your room. 

You were already in your pyjamas so you slipped straight under the covers while Bucky walked round to the other side of the bed and began undressing down to his boxers. You couldn't resist a sneaky peek while his back was turned, and as soon as you gave in to your temptation you regretted it immediately - Bucky's chiselled body was truly a sight to behold and one you were sad to have to tear your eyes away from. 

"Would you like me to strike a pose?" Your boyfriend's playful voice broke your train of thought and you snapped your eyes to his, finding him smirking at you with his hands on his hips. 

You'd been caught red handed, and red faced! Your cheeks were blazing and you pulled the covers up to hide your face as Bucky crawled in next to you. The embarrassment quickly dissolved once he was laying next to you, your mind suddenly too preoccupied to care, and you turned to face him with a grin. 

"You're here," you said gleefully, melting into his open arms. 

"I'm here," he echoed, his smile mirroring yours.

With a tender kiss he pulled you closer, tucking you under his chin in a firm but gentle embrace, and soon you found the tendrils of slumber pulling you into the sleepy abyss. 

– 

A few hours later you were awoken by a cold breeze at your back, and you reached your hand out in the darkness, heart sinking when an empty bed greeted you. 

Had Bucky left? Had he changed his mind about spending the night? Had you imagined the whole thing? 

Your thoughts teetered on a downward spiral as you sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, but your insecurity quickly turned to confusion when you looked to your side and found that not only was Bucky missing from your bed, but his pillow was too. 

Eyebrows knitting together, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and got up to try and solve the mystery, but you didn't get very far before your foot bumped into something solid. 

Bucky. 

The super soldier sat bolt upright at your touch, wide eyes staring straight ahead, and for a moment you feared he'd forgotten where he was altogether. He soon came to his senses, however, shaking off any remnants of sleep and looking up at you with a sheepish expression. 

"I, uh…sometimes find it hard to sleep," he offered, fidgeting with the blanket he must have grabbed from the couch. "Sorry, I'm still kinda getting used to the idea of a comfortable bed." 

He chuckled dryly and your chest tightened at his doleful expression - here was this brave, strong man who had been through hell, and he was apologising!? 

That just would not do. 

"Oh, Buck," you cooed, sinking to your knees in front of him and holding his face in your hands. "You don't need to apologise for anything." 

His eyes met yours and you hoped he could see the love and sincerity in them. The guards he worked so hard to keep up slipped just a tiny bit, and he gave you a tearful smile as he rested his forehead against yours and closed his eyes. Kissing the top of his head, you turned and reached up to grab your pillow off the bed, setting it on the floor beside his before reaching back again for the covers. 

"You don't have to do this, doll. You won't be comfortable," he protested once he realised you were intending to join him, but you simply waved a hand to quiet him.

"We're in this together now baby," you softly reassured, adjusting the blanket so it covered the both of you. "I'm right here with you every step of the way." 

You kissed him deeply and he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you down with him as he laid back on the hardwood floor. By no means was it comfortable and you knew in the morning your back would be aching, but none of that mattered while you were at Bucky's side. 

He'd been fighting his demons for so long, and he'd likely be fighting them for a long time to come, but there was no way you were going to let him continue fighting them alone. 

Tucked tightly into Bucky's side, your head on his chest and the sound of his heart beating in your ears, you fell back to sleep with surprising ease, and neither you, nor Bucky, woke again until morning. 

[sharkneto]

So. Season 4.

Let’s start with the good. In no particular order -

The road trip. Loved the energy of them all together again and suffering mildly and looking terrible. I appreciate we didn’t waste a bunch of time with them without their powers.

Gene and Jean were great. Loved their energy, the right level of weird. Nick Offerman and Megan Mullally were perfectly cast for the roles.

Liked the idea of the Keepers, the consequence of all the timeline meddling leaking through.

Loved the concept of the subway-between-timelines. That aesthetic slaps for the map alone.

 The Truman Show Christmas Town. They nailed the creepy energy, I liked how ridiculously well-armed it was, I liked that they all died badly, I liked that the Umbrellas got to flex their powers. Diego’s flipping and bullet-mancy was fun, as was him cheating at the axe game to win his kids toys. Luther finally being properly bulletproof was also nice.

Ben Doc-Ock-ing around on the Horror. And the Horror dragging behind him while powers were booting back up. Silly fun.

Loved that Viktor dated and was unable to hold on to every eligible woman in Halifax. Daddy Issues strike again and again, poor guy.

It makes no sense for the level of tech in the show, but I did laugh at Ben being a Crypto Bro. That is the exact way in which his personality sucks.

Jerome and Nancy. If they had left Diego being suspicious of Lila seeing that “little Greek guy” as a “haha it’s just Five!” joke, it is very funny. But they didn’t. Alas.

I didn’t hate the ending! I will always think redemption through living is a better and more powerful conclusion, but them all dying to save the world because they’re the force causing repeat apocalypses was always on the table as an option. I thought they did a good job hitting emotions, them all snarking together until the end felt in character and heartfelt; if other writing choices didn’t happen before it, I think they could have really stuck that landing. I thought the easter eggs of characters from earlier seasons was fun, I hope the Handler still sucks as a regular person.

Overall, I was vibing for the first four episodes. Was it perfect? No. It was never going to be, but I could overlook the usual UA cringe and plotholes because my favorite guys were back on the screen and having good character moments together and fumbling along to save the world. I don’t usually care about spoilers, but I worked hard to avoid S4 spoilers specifically because I didn’t want expectations. The show was going to do what it was going to do, and I didn’t want to judge it for things it was never going to be. And that strat worked well for the first half of the season! It was on par with S3, which I’m an apologist for – had stuff I liked and stuff I was going to be happy to ignore, but overall we’re having a good time! My favorite dysfunctional family is here, I had missed them!

Then Ep5 hit. And we’re onto the problems and things I would change (under the cut --)

The biggest problem of the season is that the pacing was wack, in both an internal time-frame and technical-writing frame.

Internally, media for some reason has no idea how long a year is. Some of the Hargreeves’ problems at the beginning of the season would have worked much better if we were jumping in at year two or three of being in the new timeline, six years is a long time. Diego and Lila’s growing pains at being parents and living a domestic life, how to balance having kids makes more sense to be at this point. And the first couple years of adapting to no-powers-new-universe is way more interesting that hopping in once they’re all settled into mostly-sad patterns (which is in character for them all, they’re disasters). Why not an opening montage of them in their active struggle? Why are we picking up six years later? Unfortunately, because of Ep5, it does feel like the whole point of such a long time jump was to get Five’s body to a legal age and not just so Aidan wouldn’t have to pretend he’s physically a teen anymore (even though we have 30-year-olds playing teens all over other TV shows).

From a technical writing standpoint, for a show that only has six episodes to bring about a satisfying conclusion to a plot as convoluted and bonkers as UA has, they squandered Episode 5. The first four episodes we were moving along, finding plot points, getting Umbrellas in position to move things forward, and then Ep5 hits and is anyone except Viktor and Ben doing something for the plot??? The show is at its strongest with the Umbrellas are together, and it went out of its way to split them up. I also usually love character time, but we had no time to spare! We spend most of the episode either with Five and Lila in the subway, or with Klaus in the world’s most fucked-up situation. And neither do anything to build meaningfully towards the final episode! A weird choice to have your show screech to a halt in its penultimate episode.

Usually, Klaus’ side adventures loop in some important detail that pushes things forward in an unexpected way – he destroys Hazel and ChaCha’s briefcase because of Vietnam, he finds the Kugelblitz, he puts Reggie in position to use Oblivion. This time? He’s getting used and abused by a gang and buried alive to be reunited with Allison so that we… gain nothing? Except Klaus and Allison have made up from their fight? Why did I have to watch Klaus get possessed and fucked for that to happen? Why did they do that to him and me. I don’t mind angst and the incredible fucked-up situations, but it has to be earned and the story didn’t gain anything from it. Klaus just had a horrific time because that’s what he gets, I guess.

And now we get to Five and Lila. Five and Lila, Five and Lila, Five and Lila. The thing is – I don’t hate the idea of them. Obviously, it’s not anything I was ever going to ship on my own, but if they’re going to do it, I can see how and why. They even set it up in a way that I go “yeah I get it.” The thing is, after setting it up, they completely forgot what makes either character themselves or compelling so that they could be shoehorned into Cottagecore Bliss in the greenhouse and the most boring romance possible. If we're committed to doing this, I wish they’d had a weird trauma-bonded relationship in the rat pits of the subway, I would have understood that. Supported it even, tbh. Let them be weird and feral together, yelling and emoting at each other over eastbound vs westbound trains. Instead, Five, who for the past three seasons has been driven by his need to save his family, is happy to delay returning and give up on them to keep very quietly playing house with Lila. What the fuck. Lila, who cannot handle domestic life with Diego and her three children, can handle being a housewife with Five and wear soft sweaters and dresses. They didn’t try to kill each other once! I said way back after S3 aired that I didn’t like Lila’s pregnancy plot because it was going to tie her down in weird ways, and lo and behold! UA writers cannot write women, and it sucks that Lila was yet another casualty of that.

And then the whole thing shafts Diego. I know Diego and Lila don’t have a particularly healthy relationship, but he’s an Umbrella and Lila’s mom is the Handler. I think they do pretty well for what they’re working with, they have a fun chemistry, and it seemed (before this season) they really loved each other. Why did Steve write them off instead of letting their arc be them falling back in love (well, I guess that was Diego’s arc. Wasn’t Lila’s)? Now the three of them get to spend the final episode of the entire show in an unhappy, unnecessary love triangle instead of us getting to watch the Umbrella Academy fully join together to save the world one last time.

After all of that, the rest of my complaints feel like small potatoes. Why don’t we do another numbered list to round out this essay. In no particular order –

It sucks Ben was the plot driver of the season and then doesn’t even get to die with his family, just melted and turned into mindless Cleanse Goo. I was excited for him to get to do more, was excited for a payoff for Viktor trying to return the favor of Umbrella Ben sacrificing himself for him. I wish the Cleanse was more squiddy because it was made out of the two squiddiest characters.

UA has gotten more and more flexible with powers as the seasons have gone, but I straight up do not know what Allison’s power was at the end. Was she telekinetic? Was she Rumoring reality? Why did we have to use that to graphically crush a man’s balls in front of Claire? I liked that the powers got an upgrade and a twist, for the most part, but that only works if we know what they are. Lila has laser eyes and I thought that was it until they needed her to mimic powers again in the last episode. Five can’t blink anymore because he now just goes to the subway (still an aesthetic that is cool, and a cool way to have it tied in a different way to time), unless he’s doing it with Lila? Viktor just has energy now, I guess, sound doesn’t seem to be part of it.

Abigail. I did not fully follow what her motivation was. I wanted her to be comically evil, worse than Reggie, but – again- UA writers can’t write women so I guess she was just a good guy benevolently taking skin suits so she could get the world to end to save the world. Boring. Reggie also should have recognized his wife even if she was wearing Gene and kissed Nick Offerman.

Why didn’t Five have a reaction to his Apocalypse? He had PTSD flashbacks in S1! He was trapped there for four decades! It’s been six years but it’s not like he was working on his mental health during that time. No reaction???? Don’t even get me started on Delores and his “Good thing I’ve never been married” comment.

I’m not usually for fan service, but it felt like the season was actively trying to avoid fan service. Was Gene and Jean’s dance really the only dance party of the season? Five doesn’t have a single fight scene to fun music? Five doesn’t kill anyone all season??? What the fuck.

I wish the Fives in the Five Diner were Sean Sullivan. Bring back Old Five, why would Five fuck up his jump back in every timeline.

The gratuitous fat shaming. It’s always been bad with Luther, but absolutely ridiculous the comments made about Diego.

I don’t particularly like Sloane but where the fuck was Sloane. And I hope Ray not being in the show was a scheduling conflict, because that was tragic that he off-screen left Allison with no further explanation or context. Didn’t feel very Ray.  

A lot of character arcs from over the whole show stagnate or go backwards. Luther is back at the Academy after working to build his own identity. Klaus I guess has to be on drugs if he has his powers. I don’t know what’s going on with Allison and Claire’s relationship – it seems bad at the beginning but just sort of fixes itself when they go rescue Klaus? Diego tries to have an arc to understand how much good he has with his family, but the writers won’t let Lila be part of that. Don't get me started on Five.

I wish the writing team cared enough to actually know the characters. Luther’s powers aren’t tied to him being gorilla’d – that was a separate event, why would the marigolds re-gorilla him. Lila likes bracelets, one of the very first things she did in the show was take and keep the one Diego made. It’s little things, but they go a long way in making us know the creative team cares, rather than just jerking around these characters because they have an idea the think is funny or shocking and requires characters to go against their established personalities and motivations to pull off.

Overall – it was fine, which is not the energy you want when finishing one of the most popular shows on one of the biggest streaming platforms. I get why people are upset, I get a lot of mourning is happening, but I hope we can find a spot where we can enjoy what we have and play in the space again.

It was always going to be a rough goodbye. This show, as cliché as it is, changed my life. I started writing because of it. I’ve made some incredible friends because of it. It helped me figure out I was trans, because of Elliot Page. I’m going to miss it. I’m going to keep hanging around here having fun with the characters, but I’ll miss the fandom, too, as people move on to whatever the next new thing is.

It's been a ride, everyone!

[hitomisuzuya]

I MADE IT TO THE OPEN ASKBOX HII HITOMIIIIII :3

threesome w childe & delusion childe?? i'm crazy over this concept

Childe x fem!reader. Delusion Childe x fem!reader. Smut. Threesome. Blowjob. Multiple cream pies.

Ngl, I am on my knees for Childe like I am for Scara. I got super high and this came out.

Delusion Childe looked down at you with hungry eyes through his mask. He stroked a hand through your hair, his eyes feasting on the sight of your soft, wet tongue curling and lapping around the head of his cock.

He let out a shaky groan, his hand grasping your hair as you started to suck on the tip. His hips jerked forward, pushing his cock all the way into your mouth.

You gagged, surprised when his cock suddenly hit the back of your throat. "Aw, what's wrong?" He cooed, keeping your mouth on his cock as you struggled to adjust your breathing. "For all that bluster about being able to take both of us at once, the fight in you sure died fast," His taunts made you vibrate a moan on his cock, making it pulse in your mouth.

Childe was positioning himself behind you, licking his lips as he watched you choke on Delusion Childe's cock. "This good girl always knows when to submit," He smacked a hand across your ass.

The sting of his hand on your ass made your walls clench around nothing, your sucks on Delusion Childe's cock turning more eager. Childe's fingers played with your clit for a few moments before taking both your wrists into one of his hands.

Holding your wrists behind your back, Childe thrust his cock into drooling cunt all at once, something akeen to a whimper sounding from him. You mewled happily on Delusion Childe's cock as he bottomed out, the head of his cock kissing into your sweet spot.

Childe thrust into you with reckless abandon, his hands squeezing tight around your wrists. Delusion Childe kept his hands on your head, guiding your mouth up and down on his cock.

Delusion Childe grunted and growled as he fucked himself into your throat. You flattened your tongue along the vein in his cock, tears stinging in your eyes as drool pooled from the corners of your mouth.

Your orgasm was threatening to overwhelm your body from Childe's relentless pace. His fingers occasionally dipped down to play with and pinch your clit, his husky moans of pleasure mingling with your muffled cries of bliss.

Delusion Childe's cum roped into your mouth as Childe's cock ribboned cum inside of you. Childe feverishly fucking his cum back inside of you as it seeped out made you cum squirting on his cock.

Delusion Childe's cock remained hard in your mouth as you swallowed his cum. You drug air into your mouth as he pulled his cock from your mouth. Childe's fingers scooped some left over back inside of you, delivering a pleased smack to your ass as he pulled out.

Childe let you recover for a moment before he lifted and lowered you onto Delusion Childe's cock. Even with the ample lubrication of cum, your hole struggled to fit Delusion Childe's cock. "That's a good girl, take all of my cock," He growled, feeling your sensitive walls tighten with every inch. Childe took his hands off your hips so Delusion Childe could finish stuffing his cock inside of you all the way.

"So..so big," You cried out, your legs shaking as Delusion Childe started to bounce you on his cock. Having not come down from your first orgasm, pleasure rocketed through your body again.

Childe gave your clit a wet smack, nearly making you cum again as you struggled not to sob from pleasure. He took one of your hands and put it around his cock.

Your second orgasm was building up so tight you could barely even think. Childe chuckled, and wrapped your hand around his cock. "She's so fucked out you might have to tell the slut what to do," Delusion Childe taunted, cursing as you suddenly creamed on his cock.

Childe admired the pussy was stretched on Delusion Childe's cock, his cock hardening again as you stroked and rubbed his cock. "Fuck, you look so cute stretched out like that, I may have fuck you full again," He caressed your cheek.

Delusion Childe held you down on his cock, your back arching in bliss as his warm cum painted your walls further white. He growled with approval watching his cum dribble from your cunt.

[tiddygame]

i’ve stared at this for so long that i now hate it and think ive lost all concept of how to write so take this and get it out of my google docs

the introduction is rough and the medical depictions (and accuracy/realism) could use some (a lot of) work but whatever! here it is, my vague yet still oddly specific idea of how the face reveal would go in @myriadblvck ’s streamer au:

tw: description of a panic attack? i think?

[this takes place post first irl meet but before they’re officially together]

imagine ghost has a glasgow smile but on one side they carved a little too deep and left some nerve damage. time and surgery helped, after which he could eat unimpeded and talk without a lisp, but there's still some facial nerve damage and/or skin contractures from scarring, specifically around the corner of his mouth.

now, everytime he smiles, be it shit eating grin or a full genuine joy filled smile that not even grumpy mcgrumperson could hold off, it always looks wrong because one corner doesn't raise fully like the other.

everything else is fine, there isn’t any facial paralysis, he just smiles… wrong. especially since only one eye properly squints when he smiles, giving him the look of someone who got stuck mid wink.

if he wants to look “normal” (or as normal as he could get it) he has to manually squint his other eye. still, it always felt weird; you don't realize how much those muscles affect the rest of your face until they're gone.

it's why he learned to always wear the mask.

when his expression is neutral, you don’t really notice it. if you can see his mouth when he talks however, it’s obvious that there’s something wrong. he wouldn’t say he’s necessarily ashamed of the scars and damage itself, but it’s the stares that are the worst. before he started hiding behind it, people would openly gawk or even glare at him as if he was some ne’er-do-well gang member that got what was coming to him.

he still remembers the cosmetic surgeon that had been talking to him about fixing the contractures— the whole appointment was a fucking nightmare. the cuts had healed nicely enough especially considering how bad it could have been; he was lucky to only need a little cosmetic help. the only reason he was there was so he could fucking eat food without struggling to open his mouth.

the doctor spent god knows how long breaking down everything wrong with his face like he was a fucking car mechanic lying about how dirty your filter is. the guy constantly mentioned that while he was under, they could also fix his jawline, do a rhinoplasty, trying to break him down to agree to more work.

he was already fuming my the time the doc brought up how kids would react. asking ghost if he wanted to scare children since “you cant expect the little youngins that are still learning about the world to not get scared by something scary,” and that “even some adults would cringe at the scarring.”

what stuck out most was the condescending smile he had when he said it. as if he was pointing out the obvious and ghost was being stupid and shortsighted by not agreeing.

he declined everything except what was medically necessary. the procedure went fine and after an aggravatingly long recovery period, he could eat solid foods again without issue. but the comments still stuck with him.

…okay, maybe he’s a little ashamed.

scaring kids with your face doesn’t feel good and being reminded of everything you’ve lost when you try to smile can really fuck you up in a way words fail to describe.

so yeah, he hates it. he’s gotten used to the mask, both skull clad balaclava and simple medical mask, being a permanent layer of armor. even now that he’s a bit more comfortable in his own skin it still feels wrong to pull it off.

when he gets close to soap, it still feels like a layer of vulnerability that he’ll never be prepared for.

the first time he let soap see his face, there hadn’t been any grandiose build up, no extravagant planning.

simon had arrived just a few hours earlier. he hated commercial flights with a burning passion but it was always worth it to see johnny.

with soaps twin out of town for the week, he had decided to take leave to spend time with his friend, a friend that he most certainly did NOT have a crush on (a disclaimer roach and gaz heard everytime they started snickering over ghost taking leave.)

johnny had cooked something nice and simple for dinner, saying that simon had spent too long with MREs and deserved real food (ghost only agreed if he was the one washing the dishes, soap had laughed and told him he's not so kind as to let him off the hook for chores).

when they ate, it was always in the living room with johnny taking care to always stay angled away from simon, never trying to catch a glimpse, regardless of how much he wanted to see what was under the mask. the obvious gesture of kindness and respect for his boundaries always left him feeling all weird and fuzzy inside. but, then again, johnny seemed pretty good at triggering that feeling in general.

their finished plates were on the coffee table and johnny was watching whatever dumb movie he had put on. he was pretty sure the man spent more time talking over it and making fun of everything than he did actually watching it (it was simon’s favorite way to watch a movie.)

ghost however, was watching soap. thinking.

in the end, it was an impulsive decision made after a strong three seconds of consideration.

“you uhm— you can look by the way,” ghost stared at the can of soda in his hands, immediately regretting the words.

“what?” soap didn’t fully turn, just shifted slightly to hear him better. a simple gesture to show he was listening without turning to face him. it normally made simon happy to see that johnny was more than willing to accommodate for his boundaries. now though it made him feel stupid for robbing johnny of a normal face to face conversation, a normal human interaction, just over his idiotic insecurities.

“my face, you—,” he felt his heart block his airway and tried clearing his throat before continuing, “you can look if you want,” christ he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. why was he getting so fucked up over this?

“are you sure?” he hadn’t turned yet, but ghost could see his pensive expression from here. this should be nothing. realistically, he knew johnny seeing his scars wouldn’t suddenly make him hate him… right?

“yes.”

but it was more than the fear of hatred, wasn’t it? he was scared that johnny would see him. see more than just the scars, see all of the ugly idiosyncrasies and insecurities laid bare. afraid that johnny would see the truth of how unlovable he was.

jesus he was getting so fucking worked up and dramatic over nothing.

ghost didn’t look up. he made an effort to not focus on his peripheral vision. he heard soap turn, heard the intake of breath. the silence was loud only for a second. then, deafening white noise surrounded him, inescapable, suffocating.

fuck.

he didn’t regret giving permission but god did he regret everything else; the stupid scars, the stupid nerve damage, the stupid way he had managed to fall for someone so fucking good like johnny while he was unequivocally unworthy of his love.

stop being so fucking dramatic. you are not together, never have been and never will be. reality was blatant in front of him but it didn’t stop his heart from foolishly hoping.

he heard soap stand and walk closer. saw from where he was still staring a hole in the can his feet step in front of his. saw johnny’s hands raise. he took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and with a great deal of effort didn’t flinch when soaps fingers grazed his cheek.

both of his hands came up to cup his face, holding him and ever so slightly tilting his face up, giving him the chance to pull away. he didn’t. he may be a coward but he wasn’t backing down.

ghost eventually opened his eyes to see soap staring at him with wide eyes. he looked away, staring off to some point on the right. he hated not knowing what soap was thinking.

they stayed there for a while before soap broke the silence, muttering, “i fuckin knew you had freckles.”

it was stupid but it shocked a laugh out of ghost. he meant to drop his head, embarrassed that something so dumb made him laugh, but accidentally just pushed himself further into soaps hands making him blush.

he looked up and saw soap staring even harder than before. the chuckle died in his chest.

“do that again.”

ghost just gave him a confused look.

“smile.”

such a simple request, a one word sentence, but it set his face ablaze. his breath caught in his throat, somewhere around where his heart was still trying to choke him.

…he hadn’t thought it was that bad but soaps reaction indicated otherwise. fuck. was his it that awful? he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. this was stupid. he was stupid.

“simon,” of course, one word from johnny and it felt like he could breathe again.

“please?”

fucking goddamn soap and his stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and the way he has ghost wrapped around his fucking finger without even realizing.

ghost smiled. there was no real mirth, more a grimace than anything else. he just wanted to get this over with.

soap was still staring at him, his thumbs tracing his lips, following scars, drawing imaginary lines between freckles… if he wasn't so terrified it might have felt nice.

“Christ,” ghosts heart cracked more, “you weren't lying when you said you were beautiful.”

ghost huffed a laugh and went back to staring off to the right, the fake smile dropping. of course soap would try to lighten the mood with a joke.

his panic fled as quickly as it had consumed him, now just left sitting in soap's living room, face still cradled in caring hands, resigned to his mistakes.

he felt so tired and johnny's hands felt so inviting.

“i wasn't joking,” soap looked…upset? angry? wait— fuck, what’d he do?

ghost stared back at soap, confused and tired. soaps nails felt the grooves of the scar, catching where the skin was raised and lowered.

“you don't have to lie, soap. im a grown man. I'm not fragile. you don't need to coddle me,” ghost said it like it was a joke, hoping soap would laugh along and that this would all just blow over. that tomorrow morning they could forget this ever happened.

“are you calling me a liar?” soap’s brow furrowed. great. instead, he had managed to make everything worse and piss off soap as well.

ghost took in a deep breath, giving himself another shot at calming things down, “no, I'm not. I think you're lying, but you're not a liar,” he stood and stepped to the side, grabbing their dirty plates and walking them to the kitchen sink, “you just don't want to upset me, it's fine. I get it. you're a nice person but you don't have to lie to spare my feelings.”

“I am not fucking lying!” as per usual, all ghost had managed to do was make things worse. there’s a reason he had decided to stick to the battlefield and give up on domesticity.

“well alright then. agree to disagree,” he turned the kitchen tap and started rinsing the dishes, waiting for the water to heat up. just walk away. end it there. let us forget about this stupid blunder and move on. please just leave it. please, please, please—

“no.”

the force behind it damn near made ghost drop the plate he was holding. he managed to set it in the sink carefully and turned to face soap, who was now in the kitchen as well.

“i— I'm not just gonna fucking— simon,” soap took in a deeper breath and went to continue but ghost was faster.

“johnny,” he interrupted, walking forward with his hands up in a gesture of surrender, approaching slowly.

one last chance to not fuck everything up.

“the fact is they're called deformities for a reason. they're not cute. they're not pretty. they're your body’s way of healing what it can and protecting what it can't. it's not meant to look nice, it's just—”

“bullshit they’re not pretty! says fucking who?” the genuine distress in soap’s voice and force behind his words caught him off guard. “simon—”

he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, pulling slightly at the strands. christ, ghost needs to shut the fuck up. every single time he speaks he just upsets soap more and more.

he needs to retake his hostage negotiations courses. clearly he has forgotten everything about how to diffuse a situation.

johnny takes another second to breathe and collect his thoughts before he speaks.

“simon. I know that— that ‘this’ isn't something that's going to fix itself overnight and I don't expect it to. but, ‘the fact is,’ I think you're pretty.”

ghost opens his mouth to disagree but johnny doesn’t let him.

“no no,” johnny put his hand over simon’s mouth, shocking him into silence. he blinks twice, stupefied.

“i think— no. I know you're pretty. cute even. beautiful is a given but obviously worth mentioning.”

his hand moved to cup simon’s cheek. ghost grabbed his wrist but didn’t stop him, wether it was a warning or encouragement he himself didn’t know.

johnny continued, unperturbed, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right?”

there was a pause and simon realized he wanted an answer.

“johnny-”

“ah ah!” his hand moved back to cover his mouth, grabbing his face and shaking his head back and forth, over accentuating his words, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right? yes or no.”

he stopped shaking him and moved his hand back to simon’s cheek. simon sighed, defeated, “yes. you are right.”

johnny looked smug, “good. and what do you say when i give you a compliment you don’t agree with?”

simon sputtered, “wha— i don't fucking know—”

“nothing! you don’t say anything!” soap looked way too proud of himself and he continued, “or thank you if you feel so inclined.”

“that was a trick question,” simon replied eventually.

johnny thumbed over his scars once more, again tracing them, “sure it was. now go take a shower.”

he patted his cheek twice and walked to the hallway.

“wait,” johnny probably shook the few remaining brain cells out of his head. “this whole conversation ends with you telling me that I stink?”

“yes. rancid,” johnny opened the door to the linen closet. simon was still in the kitchen. the tap was still running.

“no dipshit, do you not remember telling me that commercial planes makes you feel gross?” johnny threw a towel at him, which he caught just in time for johnny to hit him with a bath rag.

ghost had mentioned that… ages ago, he thinks. on facetime with each other, discussing the merits of bathrooms on public transport. he had said that enclosed, crowded spaces like commercial planes or buses made him feel, well, gross. how—or why—did he remember that?

“but… I’m supposed to wash the dishes?” a weak argument against the stubbornness he was faced with but simon had officially lost track of his mind and this conversation.

johnny shot him a weird look as he walked back towards the kitchen sink. simon still hadn’t moved.

“did you think i was being serious earlier?”

“yes???” he felt like he had been given a lobotomy.

johnny decided to take pity on him and explained in a soft voice that felt out of place, “i was being sarcastic. i’m not going to make you wash the dishes, simon.”

“but that was the agreement: you cook and i wash the dishes.”

johnny laughed as if he remembered something funny, “yeah, i lied.”

simon still stood there, trying to figure out if he had a stroke. johnny had been angry, completely pissed at him, but now was letting him off the hook and calling him pretty? what the fuck is happening?

johnny turned him and pushed him towards the hallway. simon could have resisted but his resolve always seems to crumble around johnny mactavish.

“now go shower, you beautiful bastard,” soap grabbed one of the plates out of the sink and started washing it with water that had probably heated ages ago.

ghost walked towards the bathroom, feeling like he was on autopilot, limbs disconnected from his brain. his cheek still felt… odd? weird? tingly?

it felt something from where johnny had grabbed it. ghost thinks… he thinks he likes the feeling, whatever it is.

he needs to sleep.

[inkbitten]

DUNGEON MESHI WITH A DERE——TYPE READER. LAIOS.

( sorry for not doing asks! i keep getting the same character so i wanted to do something different for myself. u__u reader is a half orc because i like the concept! dungeon meshi has phones because i say so. )

LAIOS WITH A TSUNDERE.

laios doesn't.. entirely know what to make of you. that's not to say he doesn't like you! but, he struggles to find out what's going on in his teammates heads alone, and yours is the most difficult of all to figure out. still, when you're both at the bar, he approaches you without fail.

he is very intrigued by your species. half elf, half orc?! it seems about every time he sees you in the bar, he's throwing a barrage of questions at you. is your mother the elf? the orc? what was it like growing up?!

you aren't entirely used to being approached by others. to most, your very existence is viewed as bizarre. because of this, you're pretty much an outcast on the island you were born on. you're used to being alone by now, and aren't exactly.. ready to let anyone in.

“ ..are you an idiot? ” you mutter one day, slightly pointed ears turned pink.

“ eh.. eh?! “ laios's eyes widen, taken aback by your sudden utterance. did he say something wrong? all he remembers is factually mentioning that being half elf gives you a very unique beauty.

“ i'm.. sorry? haha.. ” a sheepish laughs leaves the blond's lips. “ did i—— offend you? or..? ”

“ wow. i was right. you really are an idiot. ” huffing through nostrils, your head turns from him. “ s.. some people would've thought you were flirting!" ”

laios immediately feels the way his earlobes turn red, warmth swiftly crawling up from the back of his neck. “ i'm sorry! ” he chokes out, animatedly waving his hands around.

“ tch! why are you saying sorry? ”

you stand there with your hands on your hips, and laios is no longer aware of what's making you upset. his brows furrow, lips pursed into an adorably confused expression. his cuteness totally pisses you off!

“ did you mean it? ”

“ uh, what? “

“ did you mean it?! ”

laios awkwardly scratches his cheek. “ i.. i mean, yes? i especially like the way your eyes look in the sunligh———.. ”

you're quick to get him off with an, “ i get it! ”

laios is.. confused. again. did you not want him to elaborate? before he can inquire, you're seizing his arm and rolling up his sleeve to write down your number with a pen you swiped from the bar counter.

“ call me, or else! ” is all you say before paying your tab and rushing out.

left behind, laios's level of confusion skyrockets. he feels the skin you touched tingle with the warmth of your fingers. he looks down at your number with the strange desire to never clean his limb again.

“ ..that's weird, “ he mutters, laughing at himself.

he might as well get on home to send you a call. is it too early? he just got it.. ugh. he should ask falin for advice.

[hobiebrownismygod]

IMAGINE Having miles suprise you by crawling into your room invisible since you guys are long distance- aka live in other dimensions ugh I need to touch some grass

Bonus points if you have strict parents so he cuddles you invisible

Wait this is actually so cute I'm obsessed 😭 I want him so badly istg he seems like he'd be the perfect boyfriend

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .MASTERLIST ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . TAGLIST ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

It'd been approximately 4 weeks, 6 days, 7 hours and 57- no, 58 minutes since you'd last seen your boyfriend, Miles Morales. Not that you were counting or anything.

You missed him.

Having an S/O that lived in another dimension definitely had its consequences, with the two of you almost never getting to see each other. Even though you had watches and could travel to each other's homes whenever you wanted, the responsibility of being Spider-man came first, and because of that it made it difficult for the two of you to really make time to see each other.

Then of course, the two of you were also teenagers, forced to attend school and keep up good grades while also shouldering the weight of being literal superheroes. That kind of stuff took a toll on a person. In fact, this particular week had been hard, to the point where you just wanted to curl up in your bed and stare at the pictures of him you had on your phone, silently praying for a chance to see him again.

But you were busy. You had midterms. You had your extracurriculars. You didn't have time.

This particular evening, you'd just arrived home from a late after-school extracurricular and taken a shower, having sat down to start working on your homework for the night when you heard a quiet scratch of the window. You looked back over at the open curtains, seeing nothing. Weird.

But your spider-sense wasn't going off, which meant it was probably nothing. You shrugged to yourself before looking back down at your notes, clutching your forehead in frustration as you tried to grasp the concepts on the sheet of paper.

And then, you watched as a small, bright yellow sunflower drifted down from above you, falling perfectly in your lap. It took a second for you to process the sight before you looked back up, a wide smile spreading across your face. "Hey, sunshine."

"Miles!" You exclaimed as you watched him appear on the ceiling above you, invisibility wearing off. He jumped down, and you immediately jumped up and pulled him into a big hug, leaving the sunflower lying daintily on the floor. "Woah" he let out a soft gasp at how tightly you squeezed him. "I-I can't breathe-" he squeaked out, struggling in your unrelenting grasp.

"I missed you so much." you whispered under your breath, practically burying your face into the soft fabric covering his chest. "Missed you too." he replied softly, arms wrapping around your was it in response to your tight, but welcomed embrace. "You okay? You look tired."

"I'm great." You said, taking a slight step back, looking him up and down with a stupid grin on your face. "I haven't seen you in a while-you look great!" You cringed at your own words, realizing how awkward you seemed.

He chuckled under his breath, lightly smiling back at you, that golden retriever look of his plastered across his face. "You look beautiful as always." He sounded fairly awkward himself, but he was handling it better than you. He pulled you in a little slightly, gently pressing a kiss to the top of your forehead.

Suddenly, both your senses went off. Miles disappeared with a pop, right as your mom entered the room. "Were you talking to someone?" She asked confusedly, looking around. You stood in the middle of the room, hands pinned down to your sides. "No." You lied, giving her a fake smile. "Just studying."

She raised an eyebrow at you before slowly and cautiously closing the door behind her as she left. You let out a sigh of relief, right before you felt your arm being pulled back. Still invisible, Miles pulled you down onto the bed, arms wrapped around your waist as he hugged you.

It was a strange sensation.

"This is so trippy..." you said under your breath. "Huh?" He asked confusedly.

"Nothing." you quickly replied, burying your face in his invisible neck, enjoying the feeling of his warmth spreading around you. "It's a little weird, but this is the easiest way for me to stay here without getting you caught." He laughed, pecking your cheek before leaning in to give you a real kiss, for the first time in a month. You returned it. "Weird is one word for it. But it doesn't matter." you said, shaking it off before snuggling into him.

"I'm just glad you're here."

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Taglist: @therealloopylupin2099 @daydreaming-en-pointe @l0starl @niqetine @gwennesy @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @d0ubl-tr0ubl3

[lovebeinaprincessworld]

Rough passion - Four

(Felix Volturi x reader)

Masterlist

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Another part of this slowly updating series, but as I said before they all have a happy ending so it can be read without all parts being finished!

Description: Felix and you finally try.

Warnings: smut, p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), cum, bruises and broken beds

3788 words

It had only been a few hours after you two got “married” and you were kind of worked up now, thinking about that this could possibly mean he decided to try and have sex with you. But he hadn’t said anything yet, and you weren’t sure how to bring it up. You were laying on the couch again, some movie playing in the background, but you were just playing with your fingers mindlessly.

“Felix”, you finally got your throat to start working with you, having worked up the courage over the last hour or so. “Mhm”, he hummed, his hand on your waist encouragingly squeezing a little. “Remember like a month ago?”, you were talking like an idiot, how was he supposed to know what you meant. “You have to be a little more specific than that mia cara”, he chuckled and kissed your temple with his cold lips.

“I mean…uhm…when you said we would try…and now that we’re technically married…”, you let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, but going by the smirk on your mates face, he knew what you meant. “Try what?”, he feigned innocence and hummed when you blushed. “Don’t be mean!”, you whined, averting you gaze from his fiery one.

“Sorry love, I just love to see you blush”, he smiled and pulled you a little closer, your body not being able to do anything but relent. “We will try, but before that I will need to hunt tomorrow”, he explained and took your cheek into his hand softly, pulling your still blushing face towards him. The way he smiled down at you already made you want to rub your legs together, but you kept yourself from doing it. You didn’t want to come across as that desperate.

“So tomorrow evening?”, you mumbled, his lips already closing in on yours. He just nodded before sealing your lips with a kiss.

————————

Felix had left early, he told you he needed to hunt a few towns over to not rouse suspicion and it would take him until it was dark to come back. He wanted to make sure he drank enough, trying to do everything to make this easier. You were actually glad for the time so you could eat breakfast in peace and then right after lunch, you started to get ready.

That included showering, shaving (really neatly too, he could probably see and feel everything and you wouldn’t feel comfortable - eventhough he probably wouldn’t care if you would’t shave as it was a relatively modern concept), brushing your teeth, light makeup, moisturizing and styling your hair and then picking out your prettiest underwear. You made sure not to use anything heavily scented as he didn’t like when he couldn’t smell you.

You were still in the bathroom, a short dress thrown over your lingerie and brushing your hair one last time, when there was gust of wind and suddenly a large presence draped its arms around you from behind. You shrieked, your brush falling into the sink with a clatter and you heartrate was through the roof. “Felix!”, you scolded him, but when he littered kisses all over your neck you were struggling to remember why you even were angry.

“Sorry my love”, he mumbled against your neck, and he could hear your heartbeat calm down a little. “You look so pretty amore mio”, he was really looking forward to trying and seeing how you dolled yourself up had him hard in seconds. He had fed more than needed, just to make sure his thirst was down as much as possible, so he could concentrate on ruling in his strength and not both his strength and his thirst.

You met his eyes in the mirror, and the next second you were on your back on the spacious canopy bed with your muscly mate on top of you. “I told you we would try, but I can’t promise you anything”, Felix looked down at you with his bright red eyes, and you should’ve felt scared with such a dangerous predator on top of you, but it only made your small panties wet. “I know, let’s just try okay?”, you smiled gently and your hands found their way behind his neck.

He nodded and his lips feverishly pressed onto yours, cold but still pleasant and when his tongue softly slipped inside your mouth, you sighed happily, the thought of finally being so close to him making you rub your legs together. Since you were already wearing so little clothes, you started unbuttoning his shirt, glad that he wasn’t wearing anything else underneath. He shook it off once it was open and purred lowly when your small hands started to roam his perfectly sculpted chest and abs.

God, he already had trouble keeping his cool when he felt your warm hands on his body. You were so much smaller than him, and on one hand it turned him on unbelievably but on the other he was scared of hurting you. So he pulled back from the kiss and took a deep unnecessary breath before taking in your slightly panting and disheveled form. You looked like an angel, and his hands seemed to have a mind of their own, wandering up your thighs and waist and pushing your dress up in the process.

You could see his pupils blowing the moment your dress was high enough to show your panties, the lingerie making the tall male speechless and you giggled a little. “Fuck”, he mumbled, completely disregarding your amusement and hastily pulling of the whole dress, throwing it whereever.

His hands were gripping the mattress next to your body so hard he could feel the fabric give in, but the lingerie you decided to wear distracted him so he didn’t really care. This bed would be broken by the end of the night anyway. “Do you like it?”, you were blushing under his intense stare, and he could have cum in his pants at the innocent look you gave him. “Do I…love, you have no idea”, he chuckled, his gaze taking on a more predatory way.

His lips were on your neck in a second, sucking and kissing all the way down to your breasts that were perfectly pushed up by your bra. “All mine, my mate”, he growled against your hot skin, his coldness a stimulating contrast and his possessive words made the slick between your legs grow. His big hand snuck behind your arched back and your bra was gone just as fast as his mouth was on your nipple. You gasped at his sudden and speedy moves, your body reacting violently to your mate claiming you.

He switched to your other nipple, your hand gripping his hair which elicited a groan from him that vibrates against your skin, a shiver running through your whole body. “I’m way more undressed than you”, you panted, he was still wearing his black dress pants and you wanted them off. He didn’t seem to hear you so you pushed at his head with a whine, and he pulled back with a growl, making you shrink a little.

But your instincts seemed to find that primal possessive behaviour hot, and when you got even wetter you could see him inhale and close his eyes in pleasure. “Mia cara you smell so good, can’t wait to bury myself in your tight little pussy”, he looked feral, and you choked on your breath at the dirty words leaving his mouth.

“Please”, was all you could whimper, and he tried to distract himself from pouncing on you by getting rid of his pants like you asked him to. He could see the small wet patch on your panties from where he was kneeling between your legs and he shuffled down so he was laying between them, his face near your pussy. “Can I?”, he was practically vibrating with the need to satisfy his mate, and he couldn’t wait to taste you.

“Yes, yes please”, you were breathless, and his patience was thin, so he ripped the skimpy panties and threw them away, his eyes curiously glancing at your shaved pussy. His fingers glided over the soft skin in wonder. “Did you shave?”, he asked, the neediness slightly dimming down in favor of his curiosity. “Yes, yes it’s a modern thing”, you were growing needy and he snapped out of it when you opened your legs further, your pussy opening up for him and he growled.

He didn’t waste a second, his lips on you before you could even be self conscious about him seeing you like this for the first time. His tongue was cold like the rest of his body, and the feeling of the icy wet muscle sliding against your most sensitive part was making you moan loudly, you were glad there weren’t any neighbors. Your reaction had him gripping your thighs and pulling you even closer to his mouth, not having the need to breathe made him feel like he could just stay between your legs forever.

He was circling your clit with his tongue, the familiar warmth building inside your belly, but never before had it felt this good and this intense - not when you had done it yourself and especially not when previous boyfriends had touched you clumsily. He started sucking on your clit making you twitch slightly and when he took one hand of your thigh and pushed his cold digits into your slick and hot pussy you were a whimpering and moaning mess.

His hand on your thigh was gripping so tightly that you were sure there was going to be a handprint tomorrow, but you didn’t dare complain, he would most certainly stop if you did. His fingers thrusted inside of you relentlessly, curling every now and then and hitting that one spongey spot inside of you and the coil inside of you was on the verge of snapping.

“F-Felix I’m going to-“, you stuttered between harsh breaths and moans and when he growled against you and when you looked down to see that tall and strong man between your legs, his eyes looking up at you completely blacked out, you were pushed over the edge, a sharp cry leaving your mouth and you were clenching around him, your release drenching his fingers.

He was helping you through your high, completely feral and focused on your taste on his tongue, surprisingly the thirst wasn’t bothering him at all, but it was getting harder and harder to rule in his strength. When you were twitching around his fingers, your tight pussy still squeezing him, you whined from the overstimulation and pushed at his head, making him finally pull his fingers out and sit back on his knees.

The sight of his muscles moving underneath his porcelain skin while he was licking his fingers clean, got you all worked up again. What did you do right to have this perfect man about to fuck you. “Please babe, need you”, you were still panting slightly, but some primal instinct was begging to be filled by him and you couldn’t wait anymore.

His eyes widened at your words, his underwear gone in half a second and your eyes were widening slightly at his cock. He was caging you in with his arms and the veiny long dick was rubbing his precum on your lower stomach, it was cold too and the feeling was weirdly erotic. You anticipated him being big, but now that you saw him you were a little worried about it fitting.

Your hands reached out to touch him, but you heard fabric tearing were his hand was gripping the pillow tightly and his other hand shot out to stop yours. He took a deep breath, his eyes almost black now. “If you touch me now, I won’t be able to be gentle mia cara”, his jaw was flexing and he realeased the tight grip he had on your wrist, surely that would be another bruise. Somehow the idea of his marks all over your body made you clench around nothing.

You just nodded in response to his previous statement and instead cupped his cheek gently, pulling him down to kiss him slowly, hoping to calm him down a little. Felix appreciated the kiss, he knew he needed to take a moment before attempting to fuck you, his instincts were on the verge of taking over, the need to fill up his mate nearly forcing him to mount you right away.

When you needed to breathe he pulled back, his eyes softer now, and he pressed his forehead to yours. “You ready?”, he kissed your nose and you had to smile, your hands gripping his large biceps and holding on. “Yeah”, you confirmed and then you felt the head of his cock slipping between your folds, one of his hands gripping your thigh and pulling it up around his waist, the other leg following automatically.

When his dick caught your still sensitive clit your breath hitched, but the he slipped the head inside of you, and his coldness almost immediately soothes the slight sting his size caused in your virgin pussy. That was convenient, you thought in the back of your mind. Both your and his eyes were screwed shut, just taking in the feeling of him slipping deeper inside of you, splitting you open. When his heavy balls finally rested against your ass and he bottomed out, you realeased a breath you didn’t know you were holding. God, this felt so so good.

Felix on the other hand felt like he was going insane, your pussy was so hot around him, sucking him in and squeezing him like a vice. He gripped the headboard, but his hand went right through and it landed on the stone wall behind the bed instead, wood and a bit of stone tumbling to the floor. You gasped, your eyes opening and taking in the vampire on top and inside of you.

You pulled his head down into your neck, and held it there, stroking his hair softly to ground him. “Sorry”, he mumbled against your jaw, his lips brushing against it, making you clench around him. He groaned and you winced. “Sorry”, you repeated him, the irony not lost on both of you and you chuckled.

He braced himself on top of you again after a few more moments, basically mounting you more securely, and you laced your hands behind his neck. His first thrust was tentatively, but your breathless whimper seemed to encourage him, and so he picked up his pace, thrusting into you fast (for your standards - slow for his).

Felix couldn’t believe he went without this perfect pussy for over two millennia, he couldn’t even imagine living without you again, the thought alone making his hips snap harder into you, a gasp leaving your mouth when he brushed your cervix. “Fuck, you’re mine, aren’t you love?”, he growled above you and you nodded desperately. “Say it!”, he barked, lost in his pleasure, and you whimpered quietly.

“I’m yours, I’m yours!”, you sobbed, he adjusted his position and your eyes almost rolled back when he slipped even deeper inside of you, his head catching onto that one spot with every thrust. And damn his thrusts were fast, you were so going to be limping tomorrow.

He was losing it, he could feel you approach your high and he was close to, his control slipping with every thrust. He grabbed onto the post of the bed to ground himself in the moment, but he couldn’t rule in his strength in that movement and the wood splintered, the pole tumbling down to the floor with a loud crash but he didn’t even acknowledge it, his hand just gripping the mattress instead that immediately ripped.

You were too lost in your pleasure to really realize the bed slowly falling to your mates mercy, his body shielding your from any debris. You were so close, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust, drenched in a mix of your slick and his precum. Felix sensed you needed a little push to cum, and his hand snuck between you, circling your clit roughly, his cock relentlessly abusing your cunt. “Cum for me amore mio, cum for your mate”, he growled, a desperate moan leaving your mouth and after few more thrusts you reached your high, clenching around him and cumming with a sob.

The feeling of you convulsing around him so violently, sucking him in desperately made him snap too, a few more harsh thrusts and he buried himself as deep as you would take him, his balls tightening and his cum spilling deep inside of you. Neither of you noticed the bed giving in underneath you from his harsh thrusts, the mattresses right corner now on the floor.

You were still riding out your high and his cold seed flooding your pussy prolonged it significantly. You were surprised he could spill into you at all, but it felt too good to be claimed by this strong man to question anything.

When you two finally stilled, you were panting and your face felt incredibly flushed, but the vampire on top of you buried his face in your neck and was still. He obviously wasn’t out of breath. Your breath evened out after a minute and your hands started stroking his hair softly, making him basically purr. “Did I hurt you?”, he mumbled and you rolled your eyes with a smile. “No, No you didn’t”, you said with a satisfied smile on your lips.

“I love you”, his deep voice against your neck made you clench around him once more, another groan leaving his lips at that. “I love you”, you whispered and sighed contently.

————————

You had fallen asleep almost instantly from the exhaustion, only barely noticing Felix pulling out and cleaning you up. The fireplace had already been burning low then, so neither of you saw the extent of the bruises that started to cover your body. But damn we’re you glad Felix seemed to be outside when you woke up, because when you sat up, the sheet falling off of you, there were fingertipshaped bruises on your arms. And you knew if he had seen them, he would have felt so guilty and probably horrified he ‘hurt’ you.

So you rushed into the bathroom (and almost fell because of your wobbly legs) with the sheet wrapped around you and new clothes in hand before he could see anything. You took a shower before throwing on your clothes, the cardigan covering your arms and your pants covering the bruises on your legs and waist. This should work, at least if he didn’t want to fuck you again, then you’d have to turn of the light and pray his enhanced sight didn’t pick it up.

You two had been spending your day in the snow outside and curled up infront of the fireplace, but it was getting late and as you were yawning for the tenth time already, Felix chuckled and picked you up. “Let’s get you to bed”, he smirked and you didn’t complain, you were half asleep in his arms, an agreeing hum leaving your lips.

The bedroom was dark and he sat you down on the edge of the now fixed up bed, speeding to the dresser and back and handing you your pajamas. Your brain was running on low energy, so you’d blame what happened next on that. You stood up yawning, pulling your cardigan and shirt off, and your pants and socks came off next. You were about to unclasp your bra to put the pajama top on, when you felt the atmosphere shift so violently that you were shaken out of your half sleep.

When your eyes were fully open, they immediately zoned in on the bruises on your skin and then snapped up to the terrified look on your mates face. Shit, if you could see them, he could see them even clearer. “Felix”, you reached out for him, trying to comfort him but he pulled back quickly, his body rigid and frozen.

“I am so sorry (Y/N)”, he whispered and you almost didn’t hear him, but the heartbroken look on his face made you panic. This was bad. “Don’t be, please its not that bad!”, you tried to diffuse the situation, but he scoffed angrily. “Not that bad? Not that bad! There are bruises all over your body, god I should’ve never even tried to-“, he was rambling furiously and his muscles were flexing underneath his shirt.

“Felix please”, you tried again, quickly pulling your pajamas on before stepping towards him. “-even attempted this, I knew I’m too strong, I can’t believe I hurt you I-“, he didn’t even listen to you and you decided to take more drastic measures. “FELIX!”, you shouted, your loud voice breaking through his guilt and anger and he shut up immediately. Never before had you raised your voice in his presence, you were always the calm and gentle center in his world.

“Sit”, you basically ordered and sat down on the mattress yourself. You were kind of surprised that the giant and agitated vampire actually did what you told him to, but you guessed it was the shock. He sat next to you, careful to keep some distance between you two. You had none of that, taking his cold hands into yours and scooting closer, a serious look on your face.

“I want you to listen to me carefully okay?”, you were talking softly, trying to catch his eyes but he was looking at your hands instead, so you sighed quietly. “Felix, these are only a few bruises, even sex between humans results in bruises if they’re rough. You trust me don’t you?”, you asked, and finally he met your eyes, his red ones still full of guilt, but at least he had calmed down. “Of course”, he answered right away, making you smile hopefully.

“Then trust me to tell you if you hurt me”, you told him, “because you didn’t hurt me yesterday. Okay? You didn’t, everything was perfect.” He took an unnecessary deep breath, and nodded, making a smile light up your face. Crisis averted. “Also”, you giggled a little and his eyebrow quirked up in curiosity, you scooched closer to him and whispered, “I think it’s kind of hot to have your marks all over me.”

Felix couldn’t help but let out a shocked laugh, his little innocent mate having such dirty and possessive thoughts made him feel better about the situation immediately. “Let’s get you to bed mia cara”, he smirked and pulled you into his arms.

—————————

Hope you liked this filth, leave some love for my underrated boy!! I appreciate all your sweet comments so so much! <3

[bomber-grl]

fluffy touch-starved Prompt #15 for Leo? His hair surely gets veeery dirty, after all!

Prompt #15: washing the other's hair

Leo told you about his past before, so you were very much painfully aware of his struggles. Particularly, in the romance department.

He told you how it was. He liked girls, they never liked him back. Plus with how he was couch surfing, affection was practically a foreign concept to him.

Sure, his friends showed they cared but your relationship isn’t just platonic, it goes beyond that.

Today you and Leo went your separate ways as usual. The two of you met while aboard the Argo II and became close.

Things are constantly a hassle while aboard, everything that could go wrong goes wrong and there was no thing such as luck while aboard navigating the ancient lands.

Luckily, amongst all the noise you managed to find peace and quiet to rest and have some solitude.

But, you soon heard a knocking on your door and thus your long awaited nap would have to be even more long awaited.

Upon opening the door, you noticed it to be Leo.

“Leo? What’re you doing here, aren’t you supposed to be sleeping by now?” You asked this but anyone who saw him could tell he was busy doing something.

“Well I was actually working on repairs, hence the dirt” he motioned to his entire being.

You hummed “well this might be weird and if you’re too uncomfortable then go ahead and ignore but do you want me to wash your hair?.”

He was clearly taken a back, even if only slightly then quickly answered “sure, I wouldn’t mind.” It was strange to see Leo not teasing you but you just assumed it to be the tiredness and moved on.

You gently led Leo into one of the bathrooms on board by hand, the hope of not running into Coach Hedge was left unsaid.

Immediately you had him propped against the sink on the most comfortable seat you could find aboard.

As you went to get a shampoo you hear Leo’s voice echo from the bathroom “what made you want to wash my hair?”

The question was phrased in a way that’d seem sarcastic but his tone indicated genuine curiosity.

“Well, I guess I just wanted to wash it? There isn’t really a reason, Leo. I just want to do something for you in the little free time we have.” Leo didn’t say anything else.

You carried the shampoo and poured some onto your hand, you turned the water on and began running your fingers through his hair.

Slowly but surely some dirt and soot came out, not as much as you expected that’s for sure.

Leos sudden sigh brought you out of your thoughts. “What’s wrong?” You asked to be sure everything was alright.

“Nothing, I’m just enjoying this, no one’s ever washed my hair before.” You had placed a towel over his face to prevent water from getting on it, thus obscuring your view of him.

You hummed in acknowledgement and he continued “I know it’s just a simple favor but it’s just been a long time since anyone’s done anything for me ,to make me happy.”

You knew it was true. His mom was probably the last one to genuinely show him any love, that alone was sad, it had been eight years. Plus, as mentioned before, he didn’t really date. He was clearly referring to both.

You didn’t say anything and just continued washing through his hair until it the water ran clean of any bubbles.

Then, you left him alone to wash his body, he was still dirty after all.

Eventually he made his way back into your room, you noticed when the door shut with a click.

“Hey” Leo began “I hope the talk about not being able to pull didn’t upset you” he tried making light of the situation.

“It didn’t, but you don’t have to hide behind jokes either” you said this patting the space next to you in bed.

He shut the lights off and laid besides you. You laughed a bit “let’s hope coach hedge doesn’t find us like this.”

Leo also let his own laugh out and eventually you both settled. “I’m just happy you’re here with me right now.”

You smiled despite knowing there was no way for Leo to see it. You moved your hand closer to him and it found its way into Leo’s. Your fingers interlocked and you only hoped that with your fingers intertwined, that he’d get the sentiment.

No words were spoken and you both drifted off to sleep land. Eventually, your bodies found themselves snuggled up against one another.

Was there a possibility of being found out and banned from being alone? Sure but even if you did get found out you didn’t care, you just wanted Leo to feel loved.

[yanderes-galore]

Can I request ragnvaldr hc from f&h?

Sure! Honestly the last main Funger 1 character I have to do after this is probably Enki if he's requested. Not fully proofread, there may be mistakes.

Yandere! Ragnvaldr Concept

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Trauma, Dark themes, Death/Mass Murder, Violence, Threats, Blood, Gore, Jealousy, Possessive/Protective behavior, Forced relationship, Fear and Hunger content.

Ragnvaldr was born with the soul of the tormented, he's destined to struggle in his life... which is what made him what he is.

I feel his obsession counts as one of those struggles.

He's incredibly strong and has an iron will.

He was forced to come back to his home to see his entire tribe and village dead by The Knights of The Midnight Sun.

This included his wife and child.

He enters the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger to find Le'garde and exact revenge.

In fact, his only goal is revenge.

Yet while try to pursue his goal, he finds you.

You are pleasant distraction... a sight for sore eyes in a place such as the dungeons.

Ragnvaldr tries not to distract himself too much with you, he has a goal.

But you still manage to tag along... at first just following from behind.

When he confronts you and asks what you're planning, you say you want to help his quest.

You don't want to be alone here.

For some reason, Ragnvaldr takes pity on you and allows you to follow along with him.

Perhaps you reminded him of the family he used to have.

Ragnvaldr, despite his appearance, is capable of being kind.

When you follow along on his quest he teaches you important skills.

While he's capable of taking on threats, you stick by to heal him and keep him going with whatever supplies you find.

You try not to ask much about his motivations but you can tell he's hellbent on something.

I feel out of the entire main cast for Funger 1, Ragnvaldr is the most terrifying as a yandere due to his physical prowess.

I feel Cahara is bad due to his touchy and persistent nature, D'arce is bad due to her delusional behavior, Enki may be bad psychologically, but Ragnvaldr is bad since he is so strong.

You've seen how he can tear through threats in this place.

Especially if you see how he treats Le'garde when he gets his hands on him.

You look away when Ragnvaldr deals with Le'garde, if the fool is even alive when you get there.

It's not the worst thing you've seen.

Ragnvaldr probably uses you as a way to cope with the loss of his family.

That can be by seeing you as a close companion or perhaps even another romantic partner.

Ragnvaldr seems like he's be possessive but also protective.

He won't admit it but he dreads the thought of losing you.

As a result he works hard to keep you beside him.

If you seem upset or are losing sanity, he'll be by your side to hold you.

He probably dislikes you taking in other people to the group, like Cahara, D'arce, or Enki.

However, he holds his rage back.

Oh... but imagine Ragnvaldr during his S Ending as a yandere.

You watch as this man slaughters every paranormal creature in his path, all to soothe his bloodlust and protect you.

Seeing Ragnvaldr covered in blood becomes the norm for you.

He probably would even target party members, driven completely by the thought that they could take you.

At the peak of his obsession there's a good chance Ragnvaldr is covered in blood, giving you a stare that's both of adoration and something else entirely.

You originally followed him for protection... but now you fear he's a monster like the rest of the creatures in this dungeon.

But there's nothing much you can do when he pulls you into his bare chest, the blood smearing on your clothes and face.

He holds your face with bloody hands, he vows he won't ever hurt you or let anything hurt you.

Really... what can hurt you anymore?

Ragnvaldr would/already has slaughtered everything and everyone you come across.

All that's left is the blood on you and him.

He looks at you with such... obsession.

You could almost mistake it for care.

Now you're nearly completely alone, except for the Outlander in front of you.

He'll even drag you out of the dungeons with him, covered in blood, the both of you affected by the horrors you've seen.

You would call it bad...

But honestly, nothing compares to the horrors you've seen in there.

Not even the blood and gore Ragnvaldr leaves behind as he swears to care for you.

"Now nothing can hurt you... I won't let it. Every creature and person who dares to touch you will die by my hands... painfully.... Nothing will come between you and me, not even the gods."

[viperwhispered]

I don't know about you, but I find shared baths deeply intimate. Mostly cause first you have to be very comfortable with the person you're bathing with and there's an intense feeling of safety that you boundaries will be respected.

Apply this to Jamil who is arguably the most paranoid man in all of TWST. Imagine he and his s/o are getting serious and Jamil is finally starting to really open up. It's also the stage where things are getting steamier, so to speak.

As both a sign of trust and a way to get used to each others naked bodies, the couple starts bathing together. The physical vulnerability of it since their both nude is further amplified since they have to wash/touch each other. That in itself requires a lot of trust.

Just imagine this: gently applying shampoo into Jamil's silky hair while he rants about his day, slowly revealing more about his past and insecurities. Then they switch and now the reader is the one opening up about their struggles while Jamil massages the soap onto their back. Kissing any scars they might have, talking about the most random things, playing with the water, and just enjoying this moment between Jamil and his beloved. Jamil is just so busy that he relishes being able to just enjoy their presence close to him.

There's also a strong desexualizing element. Jamil and the reader likely grew up with a notion that nudity is embarrassing and should only happen with a sexual partner. While this statement is technically true, they aren't in a sexual situation. They're trusting each other to respect their boundaries in such a way that the way they view each other goes from "potential sex object" to "a body that so happens to belong to my dearest".

Which further adds to my hot take of the "If evil why hot" route with OB!Jamil being pre-relationship.

Also, fun concept: washing away blot.

Imagine they're at the very end of the overblot Jamil boss fight. The phantom is defeated but there's still some blot left. So the reader pushes him into the river created by Kalim and holds him there as the water washes away the blot. When he starts calming down, they gently start rubing the blot off. Slowly trekking their fingers through his hair as the snakes dissappear. By the end they're left with an exhausted sulky wet Jamil. The reader then kisses his forehead as they wrap a towel around him.

Aww there definitely is a lot of potential for sweetness with stuff like this. I mean, having someone wash your hair, cleaning up together… It really can feel so intimate and vulnerable.

Now, I feel like I should add the caveat that I'm Finnish, so I'm fairly used to seeing other people's bodies in the sauna, for example, and the whole concept of nudity = sex is not quite so strong for me, personally. (Though personally I'm not likely to go to a mixed sauna, especially with strangers, but still.) So my perspective for the nudity aspect may be a little bit different, though I do definitely agree with these scenarios being intimate and potentially vulnerable. Like, you really do need to let your guard down to let someone see you bared like that, no hiding behind your clothes (or status) or anything else. Just, people, together.

Which definitely ties into that whole opening up for each other. We always tend to say that people are equal in the sauna, and it (perhaps surprisingly) is a good place for those deep, intimate conversations. So I can definitely see that same vibe for this bathing together, too.

Also just, the thought of squeezing into the tub together, trying to figure out how to adjust everyone's limbs and bodies so that you're both comfortable in there (and covered by water enough to actually get to enjoy it). One of you wrapping your arms around the other, holding them close, it's just… So sweet, and intimate, and also you kind of have to be “normal” about it to make it work (I don't really have the words for these vibes, just, yes it's intimate and vulnerable but at the same time you kinda just have to treat it as a normal thing if it's gonna work).

Just eugh I love this concept so much.

(Also now I'm definitely wondering how the twst guys would feel about sauna, perhaps even with the whole “run off naked to the lake to cool off a bit and then go enjoy some more heat” extra shebang.)

Oof that washing off blot, though… Oh it's going straight for my heart 😭 Just the whole I'm still here for you, I'm here taking care of you, let's wash away what happened (both literally and figuratively). Oh boy what a concept ripe for being picked apart.

(Also for some reason it's making me think of like washing off bodies for funerals, but in this particular case more in the sense of washing off the old self / what happened, something to allow rebirth or something. Or like, this could've destroyed him, but didn't. Idk, there's just so much one could do with this. Maybe it's just the talk of being washed in a river specifically that's making me think of like Lemminkäinen’s mother and all sorts of stuff.)

[vethbrenatto]

TLOVM Season 3 Retrospective

I am not a campaign plot purist. The concept of fitting a meandering D&D campaign into a 12-episode season of television is, by all accounts, ridiculous. TLOVM is based on the campaign, not a blanket retelling, and we've all known that from the start. In fact, that's why I'm not particularly worried about the comments about the M9 series that CR has released, how the plot will change vastly. D&D, especially in worlds DMed by Matt Mercer, is extremely sand-boxy and will not one-to-one translate to the time allotted in TV and movies. VM is actually the campaign that I think translates the best to the medium without much modification as it has very clear arcs and corresponding antagonists (Briarwoods, Chroma Conclave, Vecna).

That said, the core behind plot changes is that the narrative heart should remain. The character beats, the character arcs. And I do think Season 3 dropped the ball with this.

Let's start with those that I think were handled better- Vex and Percy. Percy's relationship with both Ripley and Vex, I think was handled excellently. We see Percy's journey to move beyond vengeance and try to grasp something real beyond it, the start of the man who just wants to be a clockmaker. Vex struggles to be loved and deal with her fear that's she's a curse to those she loves and then her reluctance to do it while Percy was still alive, thinking she's missed her shot.

Vax and Keyleth have an odd role switch in this season, with Kiki (initially) hopping into the Vaxleth relationship while Vax feels it's too risky to get involved? This just feels weird to me, as a lot of Vax's characterization is so centered around still pulling for love in the face of death and adversity. Outside of Vax, Kiki gets a late season arc about believing in herself and coming into her own as a leader, but I felt this was somehow both redundant and underplayed. Keyleth's fire plain aramente in Season 2 felt reminiscent of her E10/11 scenes in Season 3, so I got a bit of deja vu. But also the stem of her belief in herself in this season, her instinct about Raishan is so underwhelming. Keyleth's moral compass and instict is a pivotal character beat for her, she's the only one who clocked Raishan and that matters. The others disregarded her opinion and that matters. And yes, it got brought up, but the take away ends up being just tying back to Vax and "You have ties to this world. Don't be afraid to let people in." ?? These are two separate issues, my guy. (On this point, I feel I must point out that while plot changes are necessary, Keyleth spent an episode and a half doing a scrying spell. Could she not have been better utilized exploring her emotional connection and friendship with Percy in the Vax/Vex chasing down Ripley plotline?)

Grog is absolutely shafted in this season. I can't say it's shocking- Grog is a simple guy (Likes ale, fighting, loves his friends) and I don't expect him to reach the character depths others do. But he had a very clear place he could’ve soared this season- yes, the Scanlan stuff. Not only is the “fix him” character beat a muffled whimper, but he’s left to comedically hold Scanlan’s limp body while Pike goes off to save him (by finding Kaylie). Grog could’ve easily slid into that side story, Kaylie could’ve heard not only from Pike about Scanlan and why he’s important and good and worth saving, but also from Grog, a man who cares about very few people in the world, but so very deeply when he does and Scanlan is one of those people he cares about.

I enjoyed the amount of Pike content this season (that’s my girl!!!) and I won’t get super into because I already made a post about it, but I just didn’t really get the crisis of faith arc for her. She’s already experienced a crisis of faith in a prior season and it’s not something I feel like campaign!Pike would’ve gone through, even IF Ashley was full time at the table. It weirdly almost feels like ground building for the current Bells Hells/Downfall/Calamity takes on the Critical Role gods as opposed to how Pike would feel about her deity, specifically. I did enjoy her relationship to Scanlan in the season and her support of Scanlan building a relationship with his daughter, it felt like a nice connection to Scanlan asking Pike to be Kaylie’s person if he died during the campaign.

And Scanlan. Oh, Scanlan. Just… confused, is all I can say. The show has had Bard’s Lament seeds for multiple seasons, including in S3 itself, and then just doesn’t go through with it. I simply don’t agree that it couldn’t work in the medium- what it feels like is that this is the more palatable story to tell. The resentment is so important to his character development. The show makes this all about Kaylie and fatherhood, which is of course a huge part of ABL, but the lament is also about Scanlan himself (in fact, I'd argue that Kaylie is more of a loose factor in it; his promise to kaylie [another egregious cut in the story] being a spur of the scene and Percy calling him out changing the trajectory of what Scanlan leaving actually was. it's about Kaylie, but it's kind of not). It's about feeling neglected or undervalued. There are scenes in TLOVM throughout alluding to this (a couple with Vex in particular I can think of in 1, 2, AND 3) but then no payoff? That part of the character development is completely swept under the rug for both Scanlan AND those around him. Pivotal moments in the campaign have been honored in TLOVM, even with shifts in them (the arrows in Ripley's heart and mouth, Keyleth stands up to Raishan, "My heart is yours"), but when the defining campaign moment is Scanlan's, it's completely changed. I simply think this is too far outside of the original intent and character beat to pretend it's honoring the moment.

So, yeah, I really don’t care if Scanlan just goes down instead of gets fully resurrected. Or that the fire plain and the trek to the city of Dis is combined into one journey. Those are just plot points.

What gets me is that these character beats, the meat and heart of the story, are getting shifted dramatically and not in ways that I feel are aiding the narrative.

ALL THAT SAID, this is going to sound a lot more negative and hatery than I really feel. This post is mostly of summation of criticisms, when there were of course, many highlights in the season. TLOVM continues to be a beautiful, well done show and would not keep getting renewed if it was a flop. But there are certainly things that I think could be done better.

[dittaturamonegasca]

I think there should bé a fic where anyone from the grid would be third wheeling Landoscar, like, have you seen how these two interact.

So, I lack the ability and the time of f1writingbyme and LestappenForever to make this idea into a proper work like they did for "How (Not) To Third Wheel Lestappen" (check it out on Ao3 if you haven't already, definitely worth it) BUT BUT BUT, I can tell you how I think most of the grid would react in third wheeling Landoscar!

1) I feel like we should spare Checo, cause honestly this man has had enough as third wheel of Maxiel and Lestappen, I don't wanna give him extra traumas, SO –

2) Logan Sargeant: this one I really feel guilty about. Cause I like the narrative of him and Oscah being besties and still I cry over the sad edits of Logan just left behind. I think Landoscar with Logan has the most space for improvement?? I forgive Oscar even tho he definitely ghosted the poor Logan for the whole honeymoon phase with Lando (it's been almost two years, Osc, get a grip). I have a feeling Logan will speak up at some point and this would shake Oscar a little, so maybe he would be the more aware and more involved third wheel, possibly? They'll end up doing triple video-games championships with Lando and Logan mocking Oscar's gaming skills, mark my words.

3) Carlos Sainz: my man how does it feel to know you've wasted your chance (multiple chances, lets be real) for good? I have mixed ideas about this one, cause I think it would probably being more like Lando struggling to keep them both as close as possible resulting in Oscar being rightfully jealous 👀👀 so the third wheeling situation would be like Lando trying to involve a very annoyed and confused Carlos in their things (safe for work, ofc). I don't really see a way out of it.

4) Daniel Ricciardo: I mention him but I can't really explain cause honestly my idea of Daniel third-wheeling Landoscar is either him babysit them around Australia and bonding with Oscar over weird aussie habits OR OR OR something very NOT SAFE WORK so ( ... )

5) Max Verstappen: I love to think he'll remain an unbothered king, you know? Like he's well aware and a bit upset that his crepes companion invited someone else (beside from Daniel) to their dessert dates and that the two of them acts like lovebirds even without an actual physical contact. He'll probably send SOS texts to Charles and Daniel until a topic of (his) interest comes out and honestly at that point the power of maxplaining will win over pretty much everything and everyone. At the end of the day Landoscar turn out to be the real victims.

6) George Russell: poor thing was originally invited for a golf morning from Carlos (Landoscar were already supposed to attend), but Chili called off last minute so Georgie ended up with just the others two. LET ME TELL YOU he jumped off the golf cart cause he saw Lando placing a hand on Oscar's thigh and feared for his life. It took several minutes for them to notice he was aggressively walking behind. He was also hit by a golf ball because Oscar distracted Lando for a second too long, I guess you can figure out the rest.

7) Special mention to the PR and the McLaren team in general who's main job rn is having them to SIMPLY F O C U S outside the pit for like interviews and debriefings. I can picture Lando losing it after hearing a single compliment like "SO YOU THINK I'M PRETTY", cause ✨babygirl✨ energy hitting here and there, even tho he has tried to be somehow a model for Oscar, at least for what concerns work. Indeed I pity trainers and strategists bc ofc Oscar listens at them, but image them trying to explain a concept to him just for Lando to get there and rephrase it in the dumbest way possible and Oscar going like OHHHHH NOW I GOT IT, COULDN'T YOU EXPLAIN IT THAT WAY?

8) This is mostly a guilty pleasure but do we all agree they torture the entire f1 group chat with their subtle flirting?

IDK if this was what you had in mind but I really REALLY had fun writing it.

So let me know what you think in the comments down below, if you agree or if you want me to make it longer and/or more detailed or just to focus on a specific one in particular?

Again, my dms and box section are open to discussions, requests and any sort of (respectful) thing!

PEACE OUT 🤌🏻❤️

[lover-of-mine]

could you please tell us more about why you think chris would freak out? 😊

Okay, I have been thinking this since 4x08 with Chris freaking out about the idea of Eddie dating in general. But the bottom line is, Chris has a delicious shade of abandonment issues. Eddie wasn't there when he was a baby, Shannon left, and then she died, his grandparents were as constant in his life as his mother and now he only sees them every once in a while, Isabel was constant in LA but she's back in Texas now, you can even make an argument that he felt left by Buck during the lawsuit, because while I do think Eddie was hiding behind Chris to say he missed Buck, Chris was attached enough to Buck to feel the fact that Buck suddenly disappeared a for a while (I like to believe Buck showed up at the house with a pile of legos and a bear like the one they won before the tsunami after, but, well, from a kid's perspective as month is a year, it might've been enough to create something there anyway), especially with everything that had happened to Christopher that year, Shannon dying, the tsunami, Chris worrying about Eddie's state of mind, Chris was at the barbecue and we have no idea what he saw or didn't see about Buck throwing up blood, so he had enough traumatic experiences in quick succession to do something to his brain before he was even 10. We also have a layer to play with if the show decides to go there, but the long-term effects of lockdown on a child were a lot more intense than in someone with a fully developed brain because their lives shut down and they didn't have the tools to deal with it and a child needs the interaction with other people and they were not getting that, and if adults struggled with it, imagine how a 10 yo with a first responder parent who couldn't stay with him felt, ykwim? We see that manifesting in season 4, Chris is scared that dating means leaving, he thinks that Eddie bringing someone into their lives just means someone else who will leave him. And we saw at the beginning of the season that he still believes that to be true. He has that moment of it's okay to play around because it doesn't matter if they love you, they will leave anyway. Chris most likely doesn't remember most of life in Texas with Shannon, and even when he's old enough to understand the circumstances around Shannon leaving, it will still have scarred him forever. And that kid has lived through one parent dying, the other in a hospital when he wasn't allowed to visit due to covid, and a constant safe adult he literally saw in a hospital bed. It doesn't matter if the show ever states Buck in a parental position for Chris before he becomes "stepdad Buck", Buck is one of the two safe adults Chris runs to in a crisis, exemplified by the way even though he's being raised by two first responders, his instinct when Eddie had his breakdown was not to call 911, it was to call Buck. We have enough to speculate that yes, Chris sees Buck as a parent in some degree, but we do know for a fact that Buck is an adult Chris trusts.

So, we have Chris with the mother of all abandonment issues of the show, which is saying something considering who he's up against, we have Eddie and Buck being the two constants when it comes to adults, and just the general concept of safety that he has had in the past few years, so Eddie and Buck are the two people Chris is scared the most to lose, Eddie for obvious reasons, and we see that reflected with Buck with him forcing Eddie and Carla to let him visit him so he can beg Buck to come back. But Chris is also watching both Eddie and Buck FUMBLE through romantic relationships. Like, they are BAD at romantic relationships, and, like, even Taylor was brought into Chris' life and then vanished, I'm not saying he got particularly attached to Taylor, but she was in his house, she lived with Buck, for an 11 yo that's as serious as it's gonna get, and then that ended too. So what Chris is picking up here is that romantic love means people leaving. Like, that was literally the conclusion he reached on his own when it came to dating. He understands that Shannon loved them and that there was love between Eddie and Shannon, but he only thought about the way she left that love. We also have everything about Marisol. Everything about her is about babysitting Chris, so he has a decent relationship with her, and she was moving in. I doubt that Chris didn't know that, but that's another development that got canceled and we know Marisol is not here to stay, so yet another relationship Eddie completely fumbled.

So take all that and put it next to the idea of Eddie and Buck becoming a couple. We know buddie is endgame. We outsiders with all the information watching as all-seeing gods waiting for them to just get their shit together know that when they get together, there's no separating them, that's it. Chris doesn't know that. He knows he loves Eddie. He knows he loves Buck. He knows none of them ever managed to make a romantic relationship work. And he thinks that romantic love means leaving. So Eddie and Buck dating means losing Buck. The only conclusion Chris is gonna reach here is "Buck is gonna leave" so he's gonna freak out. He's a teenager. Half of being that age is feeling things too intensely and the other half is reacting as intensely. He reacted like that to the idea of Ana and it wasn't even about someone he knew yet. Chris having The Tamtrun about Eddie dating someone he loves makes perfect sense. Because Chris doesn't know what a successful relationship looks like, sure, there are his grandparents, but he's not around them enough, and even then his grandfather travels a lot for work anyway so what would he have seen when he was kid, and a kid learns love from their parents. Eddie and Shannon were a disaster from Chris pov. They loved each other but she still left, so what does it take for a relationship to work? Because isn't it the thing we teach kids with fairytales and stuff? That love conquers it all? But he understands enough to know that's not true. Chris may know Buck and Eddie love each other in some degree, the same way he knows he loves Buck, and the same way he knows Buck loves him, but the instinct there would be to fight the change in their relationship because he doesn't want Buck to leave. If everyone Eddie or Buck dated disappeared from his life, what's stopping Buck from leaving him if they break up? Most likely scenario is that he would get big mad at Buck because the change in the dynamic will trigger his abandonment issues, and he's 13, so he's not gonna be rational about it. And that would create some interesting tension in the way that when Chris is mad at his parents, he opens up to Buck, if he's mad at Eddie and Buck, who is he gonna open up to? This is absolutely the type of thing that would make their dynamic stronger in the long run, but it would take a minute for Chris to get to the point where he's ready to talk about the fact that he's scared of the change, it would even take him a minute to probably get to that conclusion himself, because again, the horrors of being 13 are real. Chris himself might struggle to figure out why does the idea make him mad. And Buck and Eddie can't reassure him if they don't know what's wrong. They can't promise they won't break up either. So how do they navigate that?

Because Chris is the priority, they would never do anything that would hurt Chris intentionally, but I also think they would be like "I don't want to break up because he's mad" because that would be proving Chris' fear that they won't stay together right. And I kinda think this is the only route they can go with Chris' reaction because this isn't some "my divorced parents are getting back together" situation, Chris has no reason to hope for Buck and Eddie to get together, so I don't see how he would've already processed that. Sure, if they had gotten together when Chris was 10, he probably would've been a lot more chill about it, but Chris as a teenager? He's gonna freak out. That's literally the only logical conclusion here. And considering the beginning of the season, and the way he was handling dating, AND the way he opened up about it to Buck, all the pieces for that to happen are on the table. Buck has a relationship with Chris outside of Eddie, and obviously, Buck and Eddie are, yk, *motions vaguely* but actually getting Buck and Eddie together would add tension to the existing dynamic between the 3 of them. And it is a way to add conflict to buddie without adding the idea that they don't love each other or don't know how to handle the switch or might not be good at being a couple, because navigating this situation would just prove how solid they are. It's all there. The question is if they are gonna go for it or not.

[atlasthegreatest]

Birds of a Feather / Cassandra Cain x Sibling! Gender Neutral reader

After failing to get their revenge, Y/n is taken into custody, restrained in the Bat Cave. Cassandra still burdened with guilt, insist on staying close to help them heal, despise their lingering resentment.

Over time, Y/n begins to confront their pain and trauma, but the path to healing is long and uncertain, with trust slowly being rebuilt between them and Cassandra.

Part.2 of Shadows of the Past

— The Road to Reconciliation —

Y/n initially refuses any help or emotional connection, remaining cold and distant. Over time, however, they reluctantly accept the presence of the Bat Family. Cassandra is patient, staying by their side without trying too hard, hoping that time will soften their anger.

Despite their hatred, Y/n cannot deny their admiration for the Bat Family’s abilities. They begin training with them—at first out of curiosity, then as a way to channel their anger and trauma. The training becomes a subtle bridge for them to connect, especially with Dick and Jason, both of whom have experienced dark paths.

Cassandra, being a woman of few words, is unapologetic about leaving them behind, but her actions speak volumes. She is always nearby, offering food, mending wounds, and protecting them during patrols.

Y/n notices, but doesn’t acknowledge it at first—until one day, they silently allow Cassandra to bandage them after a difficult mission.

Y/n harbors resentment towards Batman—in this case, Bruce—seeing him as a “replacement” for David Cain in Cassandra’s life. They frequently question Bruce’s motives, challenging his authority. Over time, Bruce tries to prove that he is nothing like their father, but trust is slow to build.

As they spend more time in Gotham, Y/n eventually adopts a new vigilante identity. They are reluctant at first, seeing it as too closely tied to the Bat Family, but it becomes a way for them to carve out their own purpose. They take on a codename that reflects both their past and their desire to forge a new path.

Jason becomes Y/n’s unexpected confidant. Both have been shaped by anger and betrayal and have found common ground in their experiences. Jason doesn’t pressure them to open up but instead shares his own story of loss and anger, which helps them feel less alone.

Dinners with the Bat Family are a constant struggle. Y/n hates the idea of ​​“family” meals, but shows up anyway, mostly to scoff at the whole concept. And despite the sarcasm, they slowly find themselves drawn into the strange yet warm family dynamic.

Eventually, Y/n is forced to confront the deep trauma David Cain left behind. With Cassandra’s support, they attend therapy sessions, though it’s a rocky road. Some days they can’t bear to think about the past, and other days, they’re overwhelmed by memories. But Cassandra is always there when they return, no matter how bad it gets.

As time goes on, Y/n begins to show small signs of trust—like letting Cassandra cover for them on patrol or asking for advice on missions. These moments are rare, but they mark a shift in their relationship, hinting at the possibility of reconciliation.

Even after months or years, the tension remains between Cassandra and Y/n, but it’s no longer driven purely by hatred. Their bond, though fragile, begins to grow stronger, with an unspoken understanding that while their past is painful, their future doesn’t have to be.

Initially, Y/n challenges Cassandra to fight out of anger, hoping to prove they are stronger or release their frustration.

These sessions are brutal and emotionally charged. However, as time passes, the matches become less about anger and more about communication—a wordless dialogue where they begin to understand each other better through the shared language of combat.

As their relationship slowly reforms, there are rare moments when Y/n and Cassandra talk about their childhood. Though painful for both of them, it becomes a way to confront their shared trauma. Sometimes, they sit together in silence, reliving memories of their harsh upbringing under David Cain.

These moments are raw and difficult for both of them, but they help to break down the emotional barriers between them.

— Finding Their Own Purpose —

After a particularly grueling mission, Y/n begins to question their place in Gotham. They don’t want to be defined by their past or their relationship with Cassandra. With Bruce’s guidance, they explore different avenues of heroism. Eventually, they begin working independently, operating in the shadows of Gotham while remaining closely tied to the Bat Family.

This gives them a sense of agency and allows them to build their identity beyond Cassandra.

Alfred, with his quiet wisdom, slowly becomes a comforting presence for Y/n. At first, they are wary of him, but his gentle, nonjudgmental support helps them open up—if only a little.

He offers them tea after patrols, listens when they need to vent, and subtly gives advice, often without them even realizing it. Over time, they come to deeply respect him, even if it’s not true. They never admit it openly.

One night, after a particularly intense mission, Y/n finds Cassandra alone in the Batcave, quietly working on her equipment. They say nothing, but they sit next to her, offering her a first aid kit for a wound she hadn’t treated. It’s a small gesture, but in their world, it speaks volumes. Cassandra understands—it’s the closest thing to an apology they could offer, and she silently accepts.

Inspired by her trauma, Y/n begins working to protect vulnerable children in Gotham, particularly those who have been abused or abandoned. At first, they don’t talk about it, but the Bat Family realizes that they’re taking extra care about these cases. It’s their way of processing their pain, turning it into something good, though they’ll never admit that helping others helps them too.

As their relationship begins to heal, Y/n becomes fiercely protective of Cassandra, even if they don’t show it openly. They begin to show up during her missions unexpectedly, keeping a watchful eye on her from the shadows.

Although they still harbor some resentment, the thought of losing her again terrifies them, and they refuse to let her face danger alone.

— The final confrontation between siblings —

One night, after a difficult mission that brings back painful memories, Y/n snaps, confronting Cassandra once again about the past. It’s not a physical fight this time, but an emotional outburst where they expose their feelings of abandonment, fear, and anger. And this time, instead of defending herself, Cassandra listens. She acknowledges their pain without trying to justify her actions, and it’s the turning point they both need. That day marked the beginning of true healing between them.

– Their Sibling Dynamics –

Both Cassandra and Y/n were raised in an environment where words were secondary to action. As a result, they communicate more through body language than verbal exchanges. This allows them to understand each other in ways that no one else in the Bat Family can.

A look, a subtle shift in posture, or a slight hesitation can convey entire conversations. Their fights, training sessions, and even their moments of bonding are filled with an unspoken understanding.

Despite their resentment, the brother realizes that Cassandra is the only person who truly understands what they have been through. This creates a reluctant dependence on her. They may not trust anyone else, but they reluctantly accept that Cassandra understands their trauma and pain more than anyone else. There are times when they find themselves relying on her during missions or emotional breakdowns, even though it frustrates them to need her.

Just as Cassandra is protective of her brother, they are equally protective of her, though they express it differently. Whenever Cassandra is in danger, Y/n is the first to spring into action, often more aggressively and recklessly than necessary. It is not so much out of love as it is out of a fierce, almost primal need to ensure that no one else abandons or leaves them again.

They often express this through anger: “You should be stronger than this!” But beneath their toughness lies the fear of losing her.

There is an intense rivalry between them, driven by the need to prove who is stronger, and who survived their father’s worst abuse. Sometimes this rivalry is friendly, with the two fighting and pushing each other to new limits. Other times it turns into arguments or cold silences, as they both try to cope with the idea that neither of them has been spared from their traumatic childhoods.

Their shared trauma is an unspoken and ever-present element of their relationship. Both siblings experience the horrors of David Cain’s training and manipulation, and it shapes the way they see each other.

Y/n is fiercely independent, often rebelling against Cassandra’s attempts to protect or guide them. Having lived under their father’s thumb, they refuse to be controlled or “saved” by anyone, even Cassandra.

This leads to clashes where Cassandra wants to help them, but Y/n pushes back, determined to prove they can stand on their own. Despite this, there’s a part of them that secretly craves the protection and care they never had as a child, which creates a constant internal conflict.

Both siblings are fiercely protective of each other, although they express this in different ways. Cassandra is silently protective, always watching her brother from a distance during missions, to intervene if necessary. Y/n, on the other hand, is more open and aggressive in her protection. If someone threatens Cassandra, they become excessively angry, often reacting with more violence than necessary. There are times when they both try to relate to each other in ways that seem awkward and forced. Cassandra may try to share

Tell her siblings something personal or offer to help, and they respond with sarcasm or dismissal. Other times, Y/n might try to make a joke or do something nice for Cassandra, but it comes off as harsh and uncomfortable. Neither of them is used to normal family dynamics, so these attempts often feel unnatural—but over time, they begin to get the hang of it, little by little.

Now and then, Y/n will point out an old scar or injury they received while caring for their father—sometimes accusingly, sometimes as a reminder of what they’ve been through.

Both siblings suffer from nightmares due to their traumatic upbringings. On particularly bad nights, one might find the other sitting silently in the kitchen or on the roof of the Bat Cave, unable to sleep. Without exchanging many words, they sit together, their silent companionship offering a strange form of comfort.

The journey to forgiveness is long and confusing, but it happens in small steps. Maybe Y/n will start sharing stories from her childhood, or they’ll silently step in to help her during a mission. Little by little, they let go of the anger that has fueled them for so long, realizing that Cassandra has never stopped caring about them.

Trust begins to form, fragile but real, and while their relationship is never perfect, it grows stronger every day.

– Bonus–

The Bat Family, always trying to build stronger bonds, throws Y/n a birthday party. It’s awkward and uncomfortable at first–they’re not used to any kind of celebration, much less being the center of attention. But as the night goes on, Y/n slowly begins to relax, even cracking a rare smile when they receive a handmade gift from Cassandra.

Most emotional conflicts spill over into physical combat. When words fail, they fight. Sparring is a way for them to work through their anger and frustration without completely falling apart. These sessions are intense, often bordering on brutal, but they also provide a form of release.

After a particularly heated fight, there is an unspoken understanding—neither will let the other fall too far, and even after the hardest blows, they stick together. Fighting becomes their version of emotional catharsis.

Despite the tension between them, Cassandra and Y/n work well together on missions. Their shared training with David Cain makes them a formidable team, and they can read each other’s movements instinctively.