#“you just need to find the person that would give the effort and care like you do”

[kyokosasagawa]

Fran in Wonderland - A analysis post, of sorts. Maybe more like rambling.

Future Arc --- "Who the hell is this?" Introduced as the latest Varia member to replace Mammon, Fran is a completely new face. No one knows who he is or what his deal is. Not even Byakuran expected him, and it was one of the few moments that indicated that Byakuran had a weakness in his ability to see different worlds..

Fran of the Varia Arc is a complex figure. I cannot analyze him chronologically---no, he leaves crumbs of himself in extras. Interviews. Character songs.

But lets start off with his key trait:

Curiousity.

Fran is an immensely curious young adult. That is his fundamental trait as a character that spreads through both Rainbow and Varia arc.

What he does, he mainly does to satisfy his curiosity regarding powerful people.

In the manga canon itself, he lets Rasiel go away free just to find out if he would be able to beat Xanxus.

Speaking of Xanxus, in an interview he joins the Varia to find out why Xanxus can command respect. In a character drama, he tricks Hibari with his illusions and is impressed by Tsuna being able to see past them.

In his character song, he has Wonderland motifs. But the interesting part about it----he prolongs the torture of the victim in the song, curious to see if they could beat him. if given the chance.

Fran is a curious man that could, in fact, be interpreted as being….well, bored. He wants to find something interesting, so he follows his curiosity.

But he's also fickle, and distasteful, which brings me to the next point.

Lack of Respect / Respect towards Power

Future Fran does not respect other people easily. But to those who he does, they get power beyond all belief. Mukuro is freed with his power, a power that can fight against what we now know is a gang of ex-Arcobaleno.

He insults the rest of the Varia, while never saying anything particularly….mean, about the Xanxus he's curious about. In fact, Xanxus didn't have a single bad thing to say about Fran in the Rainbow arc, while the rest of them remembered nothing but insults.

Essentially, Fran only respects powerful people in the Varia arc. Perhaps its because he himself is powerful, so he doesn't feel a need to care about those who aren't. After all, Lussuria even admitted that Fran could escape from the Varia in the aforementioned interview---but he chooses not to, curious about Xanxus. He thus gives Xanxus his power in battle.

He respects Mukuro, calling him his Master. He helps the man escape.

I think, fundamentally, Future Fran doesn't care for weak people.

In a future where the world is ending, where only three people can trick the Vindice---clearly, he's better than the rest, especially if it was so effortless to trick them like its hinted by him not being even the slightest bit exhausted afterwards.

The thing is though, its hinted that he was always this way.

Rainbow Arc -- Again, who the fuck is this?

Fran. Fran, Fran, Fran.

He's introduced as a child playing in the forest and waterfalls of Jura, France without any supervision. A place that takes the Varia and Kokuyo some effort to get to. Even the Varia admits that he's no ordinary child.

Later, its shown that he's still able to trick the Vindice with his illusions.

So we know he's always been like this. He has, since he was young, always been more powerful than others.

What a wonderful way to get a bloated head like in the Future Arc.

But, in the Rainbow Arc, he's proven he's not the strongest person around.

He's scared of the Shinigami, he's intimidated by Chrome yelling at him.

Sure, he still has to fight in the final battle, but that could just be because the glove didn't fit Chrome. Chrome still had to instruct him.

So how does he grow up, in the Rainbow Arc?

Healing of a Childhood?

Rather happily, actually.

In the future arc, Fran smiles rarely. You get most of his smiles in artwork outside of the manga and anime, or if he's smiling, its for snarky reasons. It's one of the reasons why for the longest time, we had "depressed!Fran" fanfiction everywhere.

No, he chose the Kokuyo to grow up with, and he seems to enjoy their company a lot.

Surprisingly, its Ken who gets the most attention from him and where Fran's character development seems to shine the most.

He goes from considering Ken an idiot, a wild animal in the future arc---to considering him a big brother figure. He even changes honorifics.

He also seems to enjoy the company of Verde, despite bullying him all the time.

And don't forget about Chrome, who he instantly develops a crush on after getting yelled at. Or M.M, who carries him around and protects him.

Family!

The Kokuyo is depicted as a family, unlike the Future Arc.

In the Future Arc, Fran floats around place to place looking for someone powerful. He hangs out in the Varia, hangs out in the Kokuyo, tricks Hibari and tries to trick Tsuna, tries to give that nameless victim in the Special Illusion song a chance to survive and see if they're stronger….

But in the Rainbow Arc, Fran is…he's happy. He sticks with the Kokuyo from day one, and doesn't leave their side, and he becomes an actual kid.

Fran is healing in the Rainbow Arc, and I love that for him.

Conclusion Fran of the Future Arc is fundamentally a different person from Fran of the Rainbow Arc.

Future Fran is curious and bored. He's strong, and he knows he's strong. He's equivalent to a Saitama-like figure in KHR.

But Fran of the Rainbow Arc is still learning how to be a kid.

He's strong, yes, but the Kokuyo is giving him the chance to be better. To become strong, yet loved.

To have Fran without the Kokuyo is to have a unhappy Fran, who calls Ken "-san", who looks at the Varia with distaste and hate.

I don't know what he becomes in the future of the Rainbow arc, but I'm sure its going to be happier.

[amatres]

🌺 Layla loves receiving homemade gifts, but on the flip side expensive gifts make her nervous.

oh, interesting! layla is the sort of person who will appreciate any gift, no matter the cost, as long as the intent behind it was genuine. what doesn't matter so much is it's price or monetary value, but simply the person who gifted it to her did so because they cared for her. how she approaches being given one fully depends on the gift giver's demeanor!

if she thinks they did it just to buy her, she'd be much more flippant with it than say, someone did it because they were trying to give her a fun gift to make her laugh (how she at first interpreted daeran's gifts F) or because they're trying to make a romantic gesture of some kind and will go according to the situation

that was very long winded explanation Lmao. all that said however i am going to give this a 6/10, i won't lie and say expensive gifts dont get assumed to be more joke gifts (sorry daeran...) or someone trying to buy her off for one reason or another. the later definitely make it much harder for someone to approach her and continue to have a relationship with her after that point, as she'll get uncomfortable and perhaps even scared depending on the situation

either way, it's definitely not the best way of getting her attention if your intention is you're trying to court her lol

[languri]

Living in a conservative country, I personally find that saying that I am a lesbian to people (that I find to be open minded and safe to come out to) is much much easier than explaining to them that I am aro because I never have to deal with people trying to justify that I like girls when I say I am a lesbian but the moment I say "I'm aro I'm not interested in dating nor romance", the reaction is always, ALWAYS them saying that I haven't find the right person yet and I will change my mind the moment I fall in love 🙄

[snekdood]

i think it would be beneficial for ppl to realize theres a difference between a dyed in the wool nazi and an idiot who fell down whichever rw pipeline, the latter of which we actually have more of a chance of saving from becoming a nazi in the first place

[ao3commentoftheday]

any advice about how to deal with posting a fic and getting radio silence? I know ppl aren’t owed engagement ofc, but I feel embarrassed at having spent so long on something no one cares about, and although I liked thinking about the characters and fandom before (and was considering writing more about them), now I can’t think about it without feeling that overpowering embarrassment 😭 part of me wants to delete the fic, but that would mean having to open ao3 and look at it again LMAO

sorry for the venting, I know this is probably a me problem, but has anyone else felt this, and if so, is there any way to make this pervasive shame go away??

*hugs* This is a very painful thing to experience and there isn't really any way to make it just go away, unfortunately. However, you can reflect on it a bit, when you're ready to.

Writing and posting are separate activities. If you've enjoyed writing the story but you haven't enjoyed posting it to the Archive, you can always continue writing just for yourself. This may or may not be something you'd enjoy - you know better than I do whether some of your enjoyment came from the anticipation of a reaction to your work.

Try to analyze where your embarrassment is coming from. Is it worrying that your story was poorly written? A lack of a reaction doesn't mean that the story is bad. Being unpopular doesn't mean it's bad, either. If your story is good to you, then it's a good story.

Is your embarrassment from feeling like you were "caught trying." Is it a cringe at the idea that you put effort into something that someone else doesn't (appear to) find valuable?

Is it actually embarrassment at all? Are you feeling a different kind of hurt instead? Did you hope that someone in particular would read your story and now you feel ignored? Did you hope to be embraced by your community and now you feel shunned?

These are difficult questions that I'm asking and you might not want to think about them right now. That's okay. You don't need to if you don't want to. You can definitely delete the fic and pretend it never happened. Or you can log out of that AO3 account and create a new one and never look back. Maybe you just need to take a week or a month off for a hiatus of sorts and when the ache isn't as bad, you'll be able to face it all again.

When I felt this way, it was because I felt like I'd put something into my community and that I'd been ignored. But since that time, I've found one person who gives me all of the community support I used to get from an entire fandom, and now when I post something on AO3 I don't actually need a response anymore. I get all of the fun and excitement and validation etc from my conversations and RP threads with my best friend.

Once you've got a little distance from the pain of this moment, try to figure out what it is that you were hoping to get and then figure out how you can get it. Maybe it's through posting fic to AO3, but maybe it's not.

Let's see what others can suggest. This is not something you're experiencing alone, anon. So very many of your fellow fan writers have experienced this too ❤️

[aakeysmash]

Tell me you love me

Pairing: f!reader x Sukuna Ryomen.

Word count: 2512.

Warnings: ANGSTTTTTT. An attempt at it at least lmao, let me know if I did a good job with it. A bit suggestive in the middle. Cursing. Mentions of cheating (mentions!!! No cheating in this house).

People often say that Sukuna would be obsessed with the reader/oc, but I think a relationship with him would be the hardest thing ever.

He doesn’t get the concept of being in love: at the start of your relationship he found out you were more tolerable than anyone else, he assumed that meant he liked being around you and went along with it. Of course he fell in love in the long run, but for him it’s embarrassing to admit it. He barely even said it when you asked him why he wanted you to move in with him.

It’s not like he isn’t obsessed with you: he’s obsessed with the way you just seem to get him, with the way you smile when he comes home from a long day at work, with the utmost kindness you treat people around you with and that he lacks completely. He’s mesmerised by you, by the curve of your hips, the brightness of your eyes, the softness of your hands on his body.

He doesn’t show it, though.

He’s used to being rough and redeems emotions as futile. Like he already said to you in a couple of your arguments, if you get him you get him, if not, he’s not explaining himself. Everything he does is thought of and automatically right, so why would he give you explanations?

But sometimes in relationships you need communication. He doesn’t see how intense it is to be next to someone who acts like he doesn’t care about what you want to share in your daily life. And again, he does care: if he could, he’d make a copy of you yapping and just listen to it on repeat while working. He loves how passionate you sound while talking about your hobbies, he finds the little tilt to your voice when you search for his approval adorable. He doesn’t see how difficult it is to be with him because he’s only been with you, and you’re so good at communicating and making him feel heard he doesn’t notice he’s not reciprocating your efforts.

And that means that he’s never the one who wants to resolve misunderstandings, because he thinks they don’t really exist. You were upset about your dish not coming out the way it was supposed to and instead of reassuring you it was still edible he straight up said it looked horrible and walked away? He’s not sorry. He spoke his mind, did he not? And why would you be sad about the truth?

You’re not weak, and you’re not shy either. Kind people are not necessarily stupid, and you’re living proof of that. He’d never be in a relationship with a weakling who doesn’t know how to raise her voice and stand her ground. You’re fierce in your own way, and you know how to manage his stubbornness 90% of the time. You don’t like being disrespected or ignored, and you made sure to talk his ear off whenever he did it. Not like he purposefully did it, anyway.

But as a person who understands emotions and feels emotions, sometimes being with him frustrates you. And it comes to a point where you debate on keeping being next to him or leaving him for good.

He’s not the only one who has hard days, but when both of you have one, the silence inside your house is deafening. You’re the one who usually starts up conversations, but your mind is occupied with other things. You’ve barely touched your food.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” He scoffs at dinner. He doesn’t like you frowning, it wrecks his heart. It makes him want to destroy the face of whoever took the smile he lives for off your face.

You sigh. “You know how my parents said they were coming to visit us next month? Well-”

He’s silent. Fuck, when did she say this? He thinks. Probably one of those days where the thought of your thighs suffocating him all night plagued his mind last week. Fuck, he’d take a bite of them right now if you let him. Maybe he could suggest it. It could take his mind off of his own shitty day.

“Are you even listening to me?” You say sternly. He notices you kept on talking while his mind wandered, but he disregards it.

“Wanna fuck?” He asks instead.

You’re baffled. “Sukuna, what the fuck?”

“Damn, you could’ve just said no, brat,” he says rolling his eyes.

You get offended. “Don’t fucking ask me what’s wrong if you’re not going to listen to me.”

“Yeah yeah, you were probably going to talk about how worried you are and shit. I don’t care about that. If you don’t want to get my dick wet I’m going to rub one out,” he says waving his hand in front of your face and standing up from his chair.

You huff out a sarcastic laugh. “Are you serious?”

“Would you prefer me to find someone else to do it for me?” He bites, snapping his head toward you.

He sees you widening your eyes. If there’s a thing you don’t tolerate is cheating, or jokes about it. He knows it. He knows it, dammit. You’re fuming.

“You’re an asshole. Fuck you. I’m sleeping at Nobara’s,” you spit at him, grabbing the purse you left on the side of the table and rushing out the door, slamming it.

When he’s left alone in your shared living room, he keeps on looking at your front door. The silence is making his head hurt, the only thing he’s hearing is the sound of the door slamming. Did he overstep? Nah, you were probably overreacting. He shrugs and finally moves from his spot, going to put his dish in the sink. He leaves yours on the table, because maybe you’ll be hungry when you come home. You usually are after an argument. You’ll come back after a couple of hours saying you didn’t want to worry him too much, you’ll sigh saying this can’t keep on happening and that you’re tired of arguing, then he’ll hug you and everything will be alright. Just like it always is. You’ve never left like this, though.

He ruffles his hair; he’s angry at everything and everyone. You should’ve got that he’s the one overreacting, why didn’t you get him like usual? Why aren’t you still back after 3 hours? He hates feeling angry. He hates feeling tired. He hates feeling in general. Most importantly, he hates that the hands in his hair are his and not yours. He hates the way right now he’s craving your soft voice reassuring him in his ear, your sweet words covering him like a blanket; his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat while lying on your couch, reminding you that you’re there. You’ve always been there. There’s no one else for him, there’s never going to be one. He’d never cheat, you’re so stupid for getting angry about it. Why did you get so mad about it? Suddenly, he’s thinking about random stuff you said that he ingrained in his head.

I love you too, Sukuna. I’ll wait for you to tell me that without me forcing it out, mh? I’ll move in with you, sure, if you ask me so that nicely.

You picked this book because it reminded you of me? Thank you, baby. I love it. Both the book and the fact you thought of me.

Can you stop messing up my sock drawer? No, I did not hide your cigarettes there. But please stop smoking, I love when you taste like my lip gloss and not that disgusting shit you inhale. Give me a kiss so I can prove it to you. I’ll take your breath away way better than tobacco.

He smirks while on the couch, alone. You’re so cute. He wants to bottle up your laugh. Why aren’t you back still? His mind doesn’t stop, though.

You hurt me, Sukuna. Why can’t you notice?

I feel like you don’t care about me.

If I hadn't come to you, would you have come to me? Or would you just have ignored this whole argument and acted like nothing happened?

Am I just filling up a random space you leave open for a significant other or am I the significant other that’s capable of filling that void?

That night he dreams of you. The way you glared at him asking him if he was serious, almost like a warning before you lashed out. He dreams of the hurt that flashed in your eyes when he spewed nonsense. And when he wakes up, you’re still not back. Your unfinished plate is still on the kitchen table.

But he’s prideful, that’s why you’re the one that’s always trying to resolve arguments. Yes, you’ll come back. He’s sure of it. You always came back during the 3 years you've been together.

A week passes by and he's going crazy. You haven't contacted him at all, and he didn't text first. He lies to himself saying it's because he's leaving you some space, but the truth is that he's scared. What is he even supposed to say? Hey, I'm sorry, I miss you, please come home? That's pathetic. He's taking a shower when suddenly his phone rings. His heart skips a beat and he rushes out to check if it's you. Please, let it be you.

Instead it's Yuji, his brother.

Yuji: Hey, what happened with y/n? She asked me to come get some of her things for her. Is she sick?

Sukuna frowns. Then he realizes that- you're going to move out. You're going to break up with him.

He goes into panic mode. He never thought about the possibility of you leaving him. He thought you would come back, like you always do. Why would you leave him? Is it because you finally realized that you're better off with someone who knows how to express their feelings for you? Did you get tired of him? Have you already found someone else?

He finds himself knocking on Nobara's door in the next ten minutes. He ran, he's sweating and it's starting to rain. He's out of breath, and he gets his hands on his knees while he waits for you to open the door. He's not ready to let you go. He can't even fathom a life where he doesn't wake up to you trying to get warm between his arms, without you nagging him while watching a film together, without helping you bake cookies while laughing with each other. Without not being able to talk from how in love he is while looking into your eyes. And he knows that if you leave him he's never going to be able to live in his own house ever again, or walk down the street you always do together, or go grocery shopping and not thinking about you while looking at vegetables. You always said you liked vegetables and he always lied about liking them just to see you excited about cooking them together.

"Yuji, I didn't think you'd be this fas- oh," you open the door and your face falls when you see it's Sukuna. He snaps his gaze toward your face when he hears your voice. He missed it so much. You're so beautiful. He missed all of you. So much.

Neither of you move, you just keep staring at each other. This time, he knows he's going to have to talk first. For the first time, he realizes how hard it actually is to confront someone first. Do you feel like this every time?

"Come home," he says. "Please," he adds.

You look sad. "I don't think I'm going to, Sukuna. It's been more than a week and you didn't even reach out to say... I don't even know what. I know you don't say sorry. You never do."

Your words feel like knives. From where you're standing you're taller than him, and he has to look up to look at you. It's like he's in front of the pearly gates of heaven and an angel is making him confess all the wrong things he did, except in this scenario you're the angel and the things he did are just what he thinks about all of this. About you in general.

And you're right, he doesn't usually say sorry. The words get stuck in his throat and he just gapes up at you, still catching his breath. Pathetic.

You sigh, then go to close the door. You don't look at him anymore and he feels like he can't breathe, and not because of the run.

"I'll come get my things next week. Go home, you'll get wet," you say. And your voice is clear, you're not mumbling, you must have thought about this. He sees how hard you're clenching your jaw to appear resolute, your nails hurting your palms from how hard you're closing your hands. But you still manage to worry about him, worry about him possibly catching a cold from the rain. And he loves you. Fuck, he loves you so much.

"Wait," he manages to say. You look at him with longing. With sorrow.

And he feels like he's crying to the angel in his afterlife when he opens his mouth again, thorns in his throat getting tighter, suffocating him. But he doesn't cry here, in front of you, even if maybe you'd like it. You'd probably say that you appreciate him showing emotions, maybe tease him for it, but you'd like it. He'd kiss you while you're still laughing, saying you're stupid, and you'd continue laughing.

"I love you," he rasps out. The words feel so unfamiliar to his tongue, but so familiar to his ears. You always tell him you love him. "I'm sorry for being a shithead. Please don't leave me. I promise you I'll get better at this communication shit," he begs.

You still don't move, but he sees you getting softer.

"Go home, Sukuna. We'll talk about it when it's not raining," you utter.

"No, I don't fucking want to," he snaps. You're startled, and he cringes. He's really not used to all of this. He doesn't like scaring you.

"Fuck, I meant to say I want to get over it right now. I didn't want to scare you. I want you back, Y/N. Please, have me back. I'll get better for real," he says while getting progressively closer to you.

"You promise?" You ask, now shorter than him. You're a step of distance from each other.

"I promise, baby. I'll make you the happiest girl to ever exist," he tells you, looking at you intensely.

"Start by saying you love me again," you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his chest. He engulfs you in his own arms, inhaling the smell of your shampoo, then snorts.

"Sure. I'm in love with you, brat."

Being in a relationship with Sukuna is hard, but he loves you easily.

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie was all about desecrating corpses. 

Particularly, the huge ones--and nothing was larger than the burnt out husk of Starcourt. 

Yellow caution tape, muddied and ripped from its time in the weather still decorated parts of the doors. 

The place used to be crawling with security, but that had eased off now, the job returning to a local outfit rather than the smooth and swift guards who previously haunted the joint in pairs. 

It was easy as two days spent camped out in his van, watching the main entrance and a few side doors. In no time at all, Eddie had schedules memorized, points of entry selected and even three possible escape routes should things get dicey.

He didn't expect them to. 

Not when he’d already rolled his checks and came up with a number that, were this an actual D&D game, would make him a happy man. 

It was always a point of contention between him and his Pa. This perception. The natural ability he had that good ‘ol dad just didn’t seem to possess. 

The one that made him patient long enough to get a feel for a gig. 

To know instinctively how hard a job might be, and how to go about doing it safely. 

(Eddie personally doesn't believe much of it is talent. Thinks it is in fact, forcibly learned, due to the nature of his upbringing. 

Grandma and Grandpa Munson, bless their dead, departed souls, had at least given something of a shit. Tried to keep family things family and work things work, even when said work was illegal as it gets. 

They understood things like appearance and public reputation. 

How that kept the pigs off your back and food on your table.)

His Pa had never cared for any of that. 

Eddie didn’t grow up with family meals, or even food in the house let alone on the table. He grew up watchful, forced to learn or take a hit meant for an adult in the process. To weigh the risks against the benefits, and how to charm the pants off an unsuspecting target while doing so. 

It was how he’d escaped his own prison sentence when his Pa finally got eyes too big for his abilities.

Eddi had gotten lucky in that situation. 

Or rather--he’d gotten Wayne. 

Wayne, who gave up his own room, his own bed, for his nephew. Had bought him his sweetheart on his sixteenth birthday and a van on his eighteenth. Both things were used, and a little battered around the edges, and Eddie had almost thrown up the day he accidentally found out Wayne had used his life savings for the damn car, but they were above and beyond anything he had any right too. 

Eddie would be damned without him. 

But he knows his uncle needs help. 

Can't pay for himself and Eddie. Never really could, and so has been giving his nephew literally everything he has in an effort to make up for it until Eddie could help pay his way. 

Not that a singular soul would trust a teenage Munson with such a precious thing as a part time job, and so Eddie had turned to the familiar. 

The mall fire, and the resulting flood of federal agents had really put a damper on his income the past few months. Drugs were risky, and getting riskier with them sniffing about, and things were getting tight again in a way they hadn’t in a long, long time. 

(All it had taken was finding the hidden stack of bills. 

Big ol’ words stamped in red topped every one. Bold letters screaming ‘Overdue’ and ‘Payment Missed’ and ‘Late Fees.’ 

One single letter had panicked Eddie more than any other, the one that clearly said Wayne had been talking to the payday loan place down the street, and he’d be damned if his shortcomings made his Uncle willingly walk into a debt pit so few climbed out of.) 

Growing up like he had, Eddie was trusted in certain circles. Had access to places many didn't as his sole inheritance, because he was known.

 Someone who didn't rat, who could be trusted with given tasks. Who kept to the criminal code, and was good about not backstabbing you if caught.

He’d hit up a few old connections, dropped some hints. Put out “feelers” as one might say. 

Got a nibble and soon enough, Eddie was back in business, getting called up and offered a few small tasks for decent dough. 

Sometimes it was fetching information. 

Sometimes it was ferrying an item.

Today, it was a retrieval.

There was something someone wanted in the ruins of Starcourt--and they were offering an insane amount of money to get it.  

The plans hadn't made sense, not at first. The instructions Eddie had been given sounded outlandish, if not outright total bunk. 

Like the existence of a multi level basement under Starcourt? How the hell had no one caught that being built? 

Or that the security systems down there could possibly still be turned on? After four months? 

Who was even paying for it? 

Eddie had heard stupider things though, and the pay for this little jaunt was good. Too good to pass up. 

"They want a local in case something happens and the rescue squad comes running in. That way, it's just a little trespassing fun. The town deviant getting his kicks in the big scary mall, and not what they think it is." His connection had told him, meeting with Eddie in a Mcdonalds the town over. 

The place had a play palace, big enough to host a number of screaming rugrats. It made for a great cover as they pretended to be just two men in overalls, getting burgers on their lunch. 

Not a soul could hear a sound over the kids screaming, and if a blueprint sat between them then, well, if it looks like a maintenance worker, and it talks like a maintenance worker…

People never did look twice.

"And what else exactly would they think this is?" Eddie asked, munching on the food he got for free as part of even entertaining the offer. 

"A retrieval, Double D." 

Eddie hated that nickname.

"Some rich kid bit it in the fire, and his parents are paying out top dollar to get a few of his things, seein’ as the feds wouldn’t let anybody back in after they condemned the place." The guy, whose name was Mickey said. 

He idly traced a finger along the lines of the blueprint, the path he was wanting Eddie to take. 

(The path Eddie would later ignore, on grounds that it was going to get him caught.) 

 “Specifically a signet ring and car keys.”

“Car keys?” Eddie had asked, mostly in a bid for more information. Mickey was the kind of guy you could breadcrumb into giving more information than he intended to, if one played their cards right.

And Eddie was a damn good poker player. 

“Yup. Goes to a BMW--which they want you to drive to a safe place. Parents think he lost it somewhere around,” Mickey’s finger stopped, before tapping the blueprint twice. “Here.”

Something had niggled in the back of Eddie’s head. The first whispers of recognition, of a fact that he knew something about this--something he couldn’t yet recall. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to ignore it. 

“Who's the kid?” He’d asked. 

Mostly because he was curious, partially because it was a way to ease in the real questions he wanted to ask.

Like what a rich kid was doing four levels down in Starcourt the night of the fire. 

“Does it matter?” Mickey said, but dug into his pockets anyway. Retrieved a little 2 by 3 wallet photo, done in the traditional High School Picture Day style. 

He’d tossed it on the table, and Eddie didn’t react. 

Kept his face perfectly blank, even as his stomach contracted and his breath caught in his chest. 

Carefully pulled the picture to him, to make a show of examining it. 

“Don’t know him.” He lied after a moment, fighting to get his breathing back under control before Mickey figured out what was up. 

“Told you it didn’t matter. What matters is that you get the shit. And hey, while you’re down there…” 

Mickey talked a bit more, and idly, Eddie listened. He knew this little B&E was going to have more components than just retrieving a few things. Had long figured out that this entire front of retrieving “some rich kids keys” was just that--a front. 

Word on the street was that Starcourt was hiding something--something a lot of very powerful people were getting increasingly interested in. He’d rolled his eyes when he caught wind of the first little rumblings, the rumors and whispers that the thing was shrouded in Government secrets and conspiracies, but hadn’t been able to ignore the shit that had come after. 

Likely, the people who had hired him and Mickey understood they had to act now, before someone else did, to see if anything worthwhile was actually down there. 

The real question is why the hell they were using Steve Harrington’s death to do it--when Eddie knew for a fact that Steve Harrington was alive. 

Or alive as anyone could be, at two am at a Shell gas station. 

“Alright.” Eddie said finally, pulling the blueprint towards himself before rolling it up, making sure to casually roll up Harrington’s picture with it. “You got me interested. Half up front and I’m in.”

Mickey grinned at him. “Knew you would be, kid.” 

One hand shake and a hefty envelope later, and Eddie found himself on the way to Starcourt on his very first stakeout. 

It was that first initial look that confirmed it--Harrington’s prized BMW was in fact, still sitting in the parking lot.

Abandoned by rich assholes who absolutely could have paid to have it towed.

Which led to a domino effect of stakeouts, late nights and confrontations, up to and including his present position, counting down the minutes before he could break into Starcourt.

“Ready?” He murmured, and one could be forgiven for thinking he was talking to himself given how quietly he said it.

They would be wrong. 

“Yeah.” The not-so-dead rich kid drawled from the passenger seat.

Eddie tossed a grin at Harrington, who rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. 

“Come on, Stevie.” He purred. “Let’s go find out who impersonated your parents, and why they want that ring you supposedly own so badly.” 

“Honestly dude I just want my car back.” 

“That too.” 

[zeldasnotes]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS PART 31 🎁

MASTERLIST

Having both 10th and 8th house placements is so annoying. If there is something an 8th houser need its privacy and thats the one thing 10th houser will never get.

Venus Square Pluto in a mans chart is the ”the girl i was in love with in my teens rejected me and I never got over it” kinda energy. Very often there is some kind of bitterness towards women.

Projection is not only projecting negative stuff onto others, its also projecting positive qualities on to people, something that neptune energy tends to do. They be like ”nooo she would never do that”.

People with Neptune/Pisces 2nd house are so confused when it comes to money. The ones to buy a Guccibag when they dont have a bed.

Pluto conjunctions in composite can indicate a relationship that never ends. ”We are not done with eachother” kinda energy. You might be in your teens now but trust me you will bump into eachother again when you are like 40. Not even moving to different countries can separate this bond.

Venus aspecting Neptune people are so damn artistic. Especially when Uranus is involved. My friend have the conjunction to both Uranus and Neptune and everything she wears look so good and unique. And she finds the clothes nobody else have.

People with 8th and 12th house energy needs to be careful because they attract people who are addicted to their energy. People who dont even like them wants to be around them bc of it. Same can be said about 2nd house placement and their possessions.

Mercury trine Ascendant makes someone a good actor because their body language and what they want to communicate works perfectly together.

Venus can shows a body part you like to take a little extra care of. My mom is a pisces Venus and growing up i always saw her do foot baths, etc. Libra Venus might like to work out their butt at the gym etc.

I just have to laugh when I see people with Lilith 11th house take the bullies side because trust me honey it will be your turn next.

Women with Cancer/4th house placements are the kind of women who are seen as good mothers by outsiders no matter what they do. Especially Fama(408) in Cancer. Might also hide behind their mom image when you accuse them ”I would never do that Im a mother for god sakes”

Moon Square Mercury is super exhausting to have. A lifelong battle between heart and mind.

A mix of Libra and Cancer in the inner planets in a womans chart almost always guarantees popularity. Especially if its Libra Sun with Cancer Moon.

People with Lilith 4th house might have had a mother who had issues with them being home alone. Their mom might not go to work when the lilith 4th house person is sick and home from school even tho the kid is over 15 and can be at home by themselves. Constantly in the kids face.

People with 6th house placements tend to be naturally gorgeous. A lot of them look better with no makeup or light makeup.

Moon Square Uranus people might cut the bond out of nowhere. A person in my town with this aspect is even known for this. She become best friends with someone and have these sleepovers and are constantly close to them then out of nowhere something happens and she never talks to them again. Uranus Square can make someone just snap out of nowhere.

People with Nessus(7066) conjunct Mercury have a habit of wanting to mentally undress people and make things into something more serious than it is. You wear a maxi dress and they be like ”you dont like your legs” uhm no honey I just thought this maxi dress looked good.

People with Jupiter in the 1st house can sometimes be a little too laidback and not make an effort because they always attracted attention without doing anything. They never had to ”fight” to get attention, social contacts, fame etc. This can make them socially lazy.

Pluto aspecting the Ascendant can give you the kinda energy that nobody will try you, but it can also do the opposite. Pluto either scare the freaky people or pull them in.

People with conjuntions to Chiron = being turned off by people who likes them and chasing people who will never want them instead. (Especially moon and Venus)

© 2023 Zeldas Notes

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny. What if he offhandedly mentions his parents being THERE (as in not dead) and being Doctors (not the same kind of doctors Bruce's parents are) and things like that and doesn't realize that the batfam starts thinking that this? This is what's different with this Bruce. He didn't lose his parents and thus does not grow up wanting vengeance, and his parents are similar in personalities but in a different field!

Now Danny is still as casual young Bruce as ever but the others are just freeking out around him.

Things are strange for a while. Danny knows that his actions have caused the Waynes to be....wary around him. Even Jason- who honestly threw a whole ass parade for Gotham in celebration of Joker's death- seemed to be tense around him.

Danny can't really say he blames them. He still doesn't know why Phantom reacted the way it did- a bit alarming. His ghost side marked Joker as a threat from the moment it laid eyes on him- a threat that could not and would not be reasoned with.

His ghost -half attacked, knowing that Joker's existence threatened his core. A core that was created from the desire to keep his friends safe at the moment of his death. (He had known he would die the moment the portal's electricity hit him- and Danny had not been mournful of his end but rather horrified that Tucker or Sam could have followed him to the afterlife. His last thought as a human was Please let me live long enough to keep them safe.)

Never has that happened before- not even when faced with Vlad or Dan. It was strange to watch Phantom attack and not be in equal amounts of control within his body.

Phantom has always felt a part of him but also not. Danny had once tried to explain it to Jaz, only to end up frustrated when she tried to paint Phantom as a different personality that shared the mind-space with Danny.

Danny knows Phantom isn't like that.

He's not another person- Phantom is Danny in the same sense that Danny is alive but dead. For the same reason, Danny is the flipped color scheme of Phantom. They are one, just viewed differently.

Or maybe they saw the world differently?

It's hard to say and even harder to put into words.

The closest Danny could come to explain was an example Tucker gave him. Someone is the same but acts ultimately differently online, even when they aren't trying to catfish someone.

It's the fact they are behind a screen that gives them just the extra amount of courage. Tuck had said.

Ancients, he misses Tuck. His ship is not ready to venture into his Ghost Zone- hell, if Danny is honest, it's barely able to move. He is trying his best to get it working, but it's slow going. Too slow, even with Wayne's generosity.

"Master Brucie," Alfred started, pausing just within the doorframe of Danny's room until invited in. He does that now, keeping to his manners as though Danny was a guest of the Waynes. Not someone who he can be so familiar with.

It stings to know his killing had lost him the right to be treated as a stranger when Alfred had always treated him as young Bruce Wayne the moment he was found.

"Yes?" He asks, trying to smile. It falls flat, but it's worth the effort.

Alfred's face stays impassive, and Danny tries to tell himself that he doesn't care. He's not a young Bruce Wayne. He wants nothing to do with the Wyanes'.

"There are more gifts for you." The bulter says. "Shall I bring them to your room?"

Danny has received a lot of fan mail since his actions were leaked to the public. Everyone knew that Joker was taken out by Danny Kane. And there wasn't a single person in Gotham who hadn't been hurt or known someone injured by the madman.

He is being praised as a hero.

For murder.

Danny can't find it in himself to feel guilty about it. Joker needed to die. He had too many chances to change, and too many people got hurt.

"That's okay. I'll go downstairs and look through them. I feel like watching a movie anyway." He shrugs his shoulders while strolling to the door in his lazy stride.

Alfred steps out of his way, bowing ever so slightly. "Very good sir."

Sir.

That stings.

Danny doesn't bring it up or mention that Alfred keeps a safe space between them. Not enough that it would be rude, but definitely one of a servant following a master instead of a man who thought him the younger version of his son.

When they arrive at the room, he is surprised to find a white shipping cart filled to the brim with packages and letters waiting for him. Standing beside the cart, flipping through the envelopes, is Tim.

He has yet to see much of Tim. Not since Danny proved his doubts weren't as unfound as Danny actively tried to convince the other teen of.

No time like the present.

"Hey, Tim." He calls just to mentally get the other prepared for his approach. As expected, Tim whips around with a narrow eye-ed glare that does nothing to hide his distaste for Danny. Alfred follows them into the room but stays by the door at an appropriate distance. "Anything good?"

"Good, how?" Tim bites, and Danny fights to not roll his eyes.

"I don't know. Maybe a letter from my mom saying I'm a good boy or another football from dad-"

"I beg your pardon?" Alfred cuts him off- which, okay, that's never happened before. The butler has never overstepped his position- even when they thought him harmless little Brucie- to talk over him.

Danny turns to find the man pasty white, looking both cautiously overjoyed and wishful. "Did you make a joke about your parents, Master Brucie?"

"Ugh, Yeah? Why?"

"Young sir, are- are your parents alive?"

Danny is floored by the choked-up emotion in that one sentence that all he can do is nod. Tim drops the package he was checking over, his jaw slacked, and staring at Danny like having parents was the answer of the universe.

"Thomas and Martha Wayne are alive in your universe.." Tim all but breaths. "They are alive and have more than one kid."

"Why is that a big deal?" Danny asks, unable to himself. "What happened to Bruce's parents here?"

"Master Thomas was a doctor," Alfred says, ignoring Danny's question. But he now hears the answer in the past tense when referring to Bruce's parents. "Is he still in your world?"

"Yes, and so is my mom." PHD doctors, but they don't need to know that.

"That's why you like this." Tim slumps into the chair closest to him. Danny is mightily alarmed that he seems pale now. "That's why you don't know anything about Batman. He was never inspired. You....you really are a civilian."

Danny will deny that he fleed the room when Tim burst into tears till the day he died. He does not look back even when Alfred yells for his return. He has outstayed his welcome.

He slips into his room, grabs anything not nailed down with any form of technology, and then activates his intangibility. He sinks down down, and down, to the caves. He knows where the Bats work, knows where to go from his nights where he tried to work on ship.

He flies in that direction, knowing he will never see the Waynes again. Not after realizing how much pain his lies have unwillingly caused.

Master Post Link

[toms-cherry-trees]

Safe In Your Arms || Aegon II Targaryen x Reader

Summary:  There is only one person whom the Prince can find comfort with

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+, lactation kink, mommy kink, p in v sex, handjob, edging and denial (m receiving), overstimulation (m receiving), implications that Aegon was beaten as a child, Aegon being a sad little meow meow, minor character death,

Author’s Note:  First time writing Aegon y'all!. But this idea had taken root in my brain and had to be delivered. Thank for to my lovely honorary wifey @aemondsbabe for brainstorming with me and giving me the seal of approval at an ungodly hour. I hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @fairysluna

The embrace catches you by surprise, a pair of strong arms circling your waist and a nose nuzzling your neck, inhaling deeply the scent of your skin. A large hand cups the round weight of your breast, clumsy fingers unsuccessfully trying to undo the buttons of your servant’s dress. The other lays flat against your belly, pushing your body flush against the prince standing behind you. You try to halt his movements, eyes darting around the nursery to ensure your privacy, even though you knew the children have gone out to the Godswood with the Queen and Princess Helaena. Still, you need to make sure no prying eyes will come across you two. You will not be the first servant the prince laid with, nor the last, but gossip would spread nonetheless if Aegon is found being so amorous with his children’s wetnurse.

He has already opened the first two buttons when you decide to stop him, gentle but firm fingers holding his own and pressing his hand against your heart. A small groan of discontent escapes his lips, and you can picture the scowl in his face without looking at him. He complies and abandons his efforts, but doesn't let go of your body, keeping you caged on a grip tighter than usual. You two linger like that for a few moments, surrounded by a comfortable silence. You could stay like that, but you know that something particularly bad has to occur for him to seek you during the day and with such desperation.

“My Prince?” You try to crane your neck to lay eyes on him, but he only groans again and buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing featherlight kisses to your flesh. You feel dampness on your skin, like tears dropping slowly from his lashes.

With a bit of struggle you turn around, still trapped in his arms. You try to make him look up but he refuses, hidden into you like a cranky child. Over time you have learned how to read him, as easily as an open book laid out before your eyes. He has his way with words to brazenly flirt, jest and argue, but never to express his feelings, especially when they overwhelm him. He just tries to show with actions what his mouth refuses to say. 

Tenderly, like you would do to one of the children in your care, you force him to look up and meet your gaze. Red rims his eyes, violet pupils glossed over with unshed tears, the imprint of a slap still fresh and inflamed upon his cheek. You need not ask to know he has once more been caught in an altercation with his grandsire and mother, one in which he stood no chance. He never has a chance against them and the great plans they have for him, plans in which he has no say nor desire.

“Go to your bedchamber” You murmur quietly, two fingers pressing against his lips to stifle the protest that has already formed “I will be there shortly.”

Begrudgingly he drops his arms, quietly exiting the nursery, shoulders slumped and gaze downcast. You quickly finish your current duties, instructing another maid to cover for you as you make way to his chambers as discreetly as possible, excuses ready upon your lips should someone question your presence away from the children. But no one looks at you twice amidst the hustle and bustle of the Keep, and you find his door unguarded and unlocked.

Aegon has already thrashed the bed in a fit of anger, the blankets scattered around it while he lays under a sheet, still fully dressed and shoes still on. He clings to a pillow like a child to a beloved toy, although by the way he does it, so tight his hands touch his own arms, you think he is trying to actually hug himself, give himself some of the love he rarely got. You sit by his side, a hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. He takes your hand, fingers tight around your wrist as he brings it up to his face, pressing your soft palm to his reddened cheek. He closes his eyes, and you notice yet more tears beading on his lashes, and the characteristic wobble of his lower lip. 

“Let’s get you comfortable, yes?” Soft tone and gentle words, a speech used many times before with him. You have been there a plethora of times with him drunk, hungover, crying, covered in spilled wine and his own waste. And time after time you have cleaned him, changed his clothes and dried his tears. You have snuck his soiled sheets and clothes to the laundresses, since you know his maids report his every word and action back to his mother, and you want nothing more than to spare him to the best of your abilities from his elders’ wrath.

Some nights he clings to your body desperately, his fingers digging on your hips as he begs you to stay. And you comply, unwilling to pile more sorrow on him and incapable of denying anything to those wide, sad eyes. 

He doesn’t say word, but you don’t need any to heed his call for help. You undress him easily, unbuttoning his doublet and undoing the laces of his breeches, leaving his clothes carefully folded on a nearby chair, the boots neatly by the side. When he remains in only his linen shirt and smallclothes, you put the bed together around him, tucking the sheets and smoothing the blankets as you quietly sing a lullaby, the same you use to put his twins to bed every night. It has the same calming effect on him as it had on them; the soothing of your voice halting his tears and making him relax his posture as he lets himself be cared for and pampered by your tenderness. 

Once he has settled comfortably, you lay by his side. Aegon immediately scoots closer to you, his head burrowed against your bosom and one arm draping around your waist. You trace his swelling cheekbone with featherlight touch. Whoever has slapped him has put quite a lot of anger into it, most likely his grandsire. It is not the first time things have gotten physical between them, and most certainly not the last. It seems the Hand thinks he can beat his grandson into the Prince he wants him to be.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Aegon often chooses to seek comfort and just push his problems to the back of his mind, but you still encourage him to voice his woes. More often than not he prefers to remain silent, but you always offer him the space to speak freely and without consequences should he want to. To know he won’t be judged or chastised, and he will only be met with the tenderness he deserves.

Long seconds linger in absolute silence before his voice breaks through, weak and constricted “They have found me a bride”

You only nod, not needing to ask more. Ever since Aegon’s first wife had passed, scarcely 3 nights after the birth of their twins, his grandsire and mother had pushed him to pursue another wife, a lady from a strong House to garner their support when the time came. Originally his mother had wanted him to marry Helaena, to strengthen his claim to the throne, but then the King intervened. The only time he put his foot down instead of letting his council rule on his behalf, and he did it to betroth Aegon to a branched out lady of House Velaryon, while promising Helaena to Aemond. While the siblings’ marriage flourished, Aegon found himself tied before the Gods to a woman he couldn’t love, to the extent it took 6 years for them to conceive, and she only lived enough to name them. 

At your silence, Aegon clings tighter to your body, his freshly blossoming tears dampening the front of your dress “I don’t want to, they can’t make me” His sniffs, and you notice him pressing his lips tightly together to force himself to be quiet.

You shush him, smoothing back his damp hair “You have to, sweetling. You are a Prince, and you have duties to your mother and family” Your words make him tense again, fisting your dress as he exhales loudly through his nose. 

“I have no duties, I am not the heir, I am just a failure they are stuck with. I’ve done everything they wanted of me, and still my mother won’t ever look at me with pride” Another conversation had one and a thousand times. As the firstborn male, all eyes turned to him when the King’s health began to fail, and even though he still lingers, he hangs only by a very fine thread. And the Hand has everything prepared to land the crown upon his own bloodline, whether his grandson wants to or not. And he most certainly doesn’t want to. 

You don’t argue, knowing that any attempt of contradicting him would only circle you back to the same arguments. You only let him speak, let it all escape his chest. But he has few words that day. There’s not much to say that has not been said already.

“Father never loved me. Grandsire only sees me as something at his disposal to use at convenience. Mother does not love me any more than what she is obliged to” His eyes meet yours, wide and adorable and terribly sad “I only have you. Just you. If they make me marry I won’t let you go. You cannot abandon me” His words carry an urgency and fear you hadn’t heard on him before. A deeply rooted terror of losing the only person who has not touched him with violence

You press tender kisses to his forehead, your touch gentle and warm “You will always have me, sweet boy. To the end of times. If they send you to the end of the world, I will be right behind you, taking care of you. If they put you on the throne, I will be at your feet as your most loyal servant”

Those reassuring words coax a smile out of him, a smile only meant for you. It is not often these days that Aegon is seen smiling, only in rare instances when he is with his children or with Sunfyre. All the others are reserved just for you. 

Another comfortable silence lingers between you two, eyes locked with one another as your fingers card through his blonde tresses, his breath becoming a little sharper every time you accidentally tug on a knot. His hands snake up your front, stopping just in the curve of your breasts as he waits for your permission. You easily undo the very first button, allowing him the pleasure of doing the rest. 

It takes him no time to have the front fully unbuttoned, pushing the fabric away to reach the object of his desire. The dazzled look he gets on his face whenever he stares at your bare breasts never fails to amuse you, as if he is staring at the most wonderful thing the world has to offer. His lips quickly find home around your perked nipple, releasing a satisfied sigh as he suckles at your milk, his hand cupping the free breast and massaging it lovingly, swiping his thumb over the hardened peak. You let out a content sigh, settling comfortably on the pillows as you watch Aegon nurse enthusiastically, barely stopping to breathe. 

It had been after one of his many nights out that he first found comfort that particular way. Smelling of cheap perfume, even cheaper spirits and covered in vile things you didn’t wish to identify he had returned, and once more you had been by his side, putting his broken pieces back together and trying to not let his cracks be seen by the world the next morning. His hands had roamed your body, as they often did, a touch you glady allowed; he had never once done one thing you didn’t let him do, not even while being so deep in his cups he couldn’t say his own name. He had rested his face against your bare chest, inhaling deeply the musk of your skin while he toyed absently with your breast. A sharp pinch to your nipple had coaxed out some droplets of milk, which he collected on his thumb and brought to his lips. He repeated the process several times before crossing eyes with you, searching your face for any sign of rejection, but you only smiled and helped him get comfortable in your lap as he latched onto your breast for the first time. Nothing could quite calm him like that afterwards.

The prince at your breast lets out small sounds of satisfaction and content sighs as he grips your flesh tenderly, massaging it to coax more of the rich liquid to come down. At first you think he is relaxing and perhaps close to falling asleep, but then you notice his free hand down his body, palming his erection over the sheet. His teeth graze the engorged bud of your nipple ever so delicately, sending a delicious shiver down your spine. Heat starts to pool in your lower belly, accompanied by a growing dampness between your thighs. You rub them together discreetly, seeking some form of friction as you continue to watch Aegon clumsily touch himself, trying to balance his need for pleasure with the attention he is lavishing upon your tits. 

His whines take a desperate edge while he humps his own hand, his movements faltering since he doesn't know where to focus. Instinctively your hand moves slowly down his torso and under the sheets; you gently push his away and wrap your fingers around his length, giving a few tentative pumps.

“Do you want Mommy to take care of this?”

Both of you stop for a moment, eyes wide, and he even drops your breast in shock. He had very occasionally called you ‘mommy’, mostly ironically when you had ordered him around, or more intimately when you did certain things like tug on his hair or grip him a bit tighter. But you had never used the term that way, and by the way his cock throbs in your hand, the idea excites him as much as it does you. You give him a firm squeeze, making him jump on the bed

“I asked you something, sweet boy. I taught you how to use your words. Do you want Mommy to take care of your problem?”

Aegon swallows visibly, eyes still wide. His lips move rapidly, but no sound comes out other than a pathetic mumbling as he tries to unscramble his brains. He finally gives up and just nods, looking up pleadingly. But you don’t cave in and give him a firmer squeeze, earning a whimper from him

“Words” You say firmly, but without sounding too harsh. You don’t want to take him too far and make him scared. But you are also deeply curious on how far you can take this little jest. 

It seems to take all his strength to push out every word “Yes Mommy, please” He sounds so small and defenceless, bordering on innocence. If you didn’t know him much better you would believe him a man that has rarely laid with women. 

Encouraged, you stroke his hard cock slowly, swiping your thumb across the leaking head to gather the already forming drops and smearing them down his length. Aegon’s hands are everywhere, on your face, on your breasts, on your shoulders, pushing the rest of your dress out of the way to free more of your skin. He grips your hips, squeezes your thighs, seeks in your body an anchor to life as his face scrunches in pleasure. His breaths become ragged and you see his abdominal muscles tensing as he approaches climax. But as soon as you feel the familiar twitching you let go of him, your hand resting on the curve of his thigh. 

His eyes shoot open and he half sits, staring at you with a mix of desperation and indignation. He whimpers quietly, shifting his hips to try and get under your delicious touch again, but you slap his thigh gently to keep him still.

“No moving. Mommy is taking care of you and you don’t move unless I say so.” Your tone is low, whispering the words as you press your forehead against his, gazes locked on each other. The black of his eyes has widened, making the purple seem darker, and the tears have dried at last. All that remains is lust mixed with submission, all of it just for you.

You gently caress his stones, watching in amusement as gooseflesh spreads across his skin at the touch, his legs instinctively spreading wider to grant you better access. You trace your index up his length, following the path of the throbbing vein prominent on the underside of his cock, while he fists the sheets, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. You lean down to kiss him, letting him drown his moans against your welcoming mouth when you finally pump him, keeping the pace steady.

Again you stop just seconds before he reaches climax, earning an even more desperate whimper from him.

“Mommy, please, it hurts, I want to-” His words are cut short when your free hand takes hold of a fistful of his hair, just enough to feel the pull in his scalp. The moan comes from the depths of his chest when you brush your lips against his ear.

“Are you a good boy? A good boy for Mommy?” 

He nods eagerly, his hands cupping your face to keep you close.

“I will be good Mommy. Please, please it hurts” His eyes gloss over, and his lower lip trembles again. He looks so pretty you struggle in your heart to carry on with this little game, even though he seems to enjoy it. And you are enjoying it too, so much you feel is unfair you are missing out on the best part.

You pull away just enough to drop your dress to the side, your smallclothes following suit. With Aegon flat on his back, it is easy for you to straddle his hips, letting the head of his cock snuggle in your slick folds. He sucks in a sharp breath when you rock your hips, gliding the heat of your cunt along his length. You take a slow pace, dragging out the moment as much as possible. But while you are in no rush to finish, Aegon is in a desperate hurry, pushing against your hips and mewling desperately to urge you on. When he tries to grab your hips you smack his hand away and lean in, so close your breaths mingle. 

“Stay still, sweet boy. You don’t want Mommy to get angry and leave you like this, do you now?”

“But Mommy” He pants heavily, beads of sweat gathering in his temples “I need it, please. I will be good. I need to be inside you. Please” 

You click your tongue, a smirk pulling at your lips. You smooth back his hair and press a kiss to his hairline, an almost soothing touch.

“You have been such a good boy for Mommy, so good. But you have to keep being good and do as you are told, sweetling. If you are extra good, Mommy will let you spend inside her” 

With that promise in mind, Aegon does his best to stay still, but you don’t make it easy for him. The rhythm is tantalisingly slow, coming to a halt every time you or him get too close to climax. His desperation grows to uncharted levels, fingers digging on the mattress, fists so tight on the sheets his knuckles turn white, lip bitten so strongly between his teeth it leaves an imprint. Tears bead in the corners of his beautiful eyes and roll down, dampening the sheet underneath. When you stop for the umpteenth time and a sob racks his chest, you know he’s ready.

You sit back on your haunches and watch him carefully. His hair is toussled from how much he has trashed on the bed, his face puffy and tear streaked, the flush of his cheeks spreading down to his chest. His cock is angrily red and leaky, impossibly hard and coated in your juices. Every muscle on his body is tense like a bowstring ready to fire. You touch his taut abs, rubbing the aching muscles soothingly.

“You have been such a good boy for Mommy, so good. You deserve your prize” 

The moan he releases as you line his cock with your entrance, sinking slowly until he is buried to the hilt, has surely been heard throughout the entire Keep. Encased in your tight heat, it takes no more than a few rocks of your hips for him to peak, back arching off the mattress dramatically as he screams his release to the vaulted ceilings, painting your walls with his spend. But you are not quite there yet. You continue to ride him, now at a dizzying pace, chasing your own release. His whines reach a new high, having barely time to recover from his groundbreaking climax. His abused cock is almost too sensitive to touch, and the drag of your cunt around him feels like fire climbing up his spine; the most deliciously tortuous fire. 

Your hips and thighs begin to ache from the exertion, but you are so close, and seeing your sweet Prince so ruined it's definitely spurring you on. You shift your angle just a bit, so the head of his cock brushes against a certain spot inside you that makes you feel like you can touch the stars, all while your fingers circle your neglected pearl. It takes no more than a few thrusts before you climax, your walls tightening around him and somehow drawing out a second peak from him, even though you are sure he doesn’t have much more left to give you. You ride out your release, halting only when the burning on your thighs becomes too much to ignore. 

You slide off and lay next to Aegon, who appears to still be waiting for his soul to return to his body. His eyes are wide, some stray tears still rolling, his breaths heavy and slow. When he whines quietly and turns to you, you reward him with a sweet smile and a tender, brief kiss upon the lips. Aegon snuggles into you, just like he likes it best, his face buried in your cleavage as he catches his breath. You rub his back in slow, soothing circles; he closes his eyes, his lips seeking and finding your nipples once more

While he suckles you lean closer, tracing his features with your fingertip

“You were such a good boy. So good for me. Mommy is so proud of you” 

The gentle praise goes straight to his heart, that much you can tell in the way he hugs you with his entire body and the upward turn of the corner of his mouth. You know he is tired, and perhaps his body is urging him to sleep. But to do that he needs one last little nudge

“Mommy will always be with you, my sweet Prince”

[missglaskin]

Yandere Scott Summers, Remy Lebeau, Logan Howlett Headcanons (Romantic/Separate)

For Scott, there is an awareness in everything he does. He knows his strong feelings for you are not "normal," and at first he tried to deny them. Scott even pushed you away, leaving you wondering if you had done anything wrong.  Little did you know that this was just his way of shielding you from him. 

At a certain moment, Scott realized he had to face the truth—he desired you; he could no longer just ignore you. Initially, there was that air of coldness, as if he were to disappear from a room upon your entering, and his replies were as brief. But, you were blind to the fact that his eyes were always on you—an advantage for his visor/glasses — you had no way of knowing how intensely he stared.

You don't realize how you're getting drawn into small talks with Scott. Sometimes it happens you run into him at breakfast time or when you happen to cross paths in the hallways, he greets and asks about your day. There is an air of awkwardness but you just ignore it; finding it endearing how he's making an effort to get to know you better.

When the initial awkwardness fades, Scott can be quite charming. When a joke of his makes you chuckle, Scott wanted nothing more than to record it and listen to it on repeat. His approaches become more bold, handing you a cup of coffee not missing how your fingers touched, or informing details of a mission. Scott may even make a flirtatious comment and seeing your flustered response, he smiles to himself. 

Jealousy or protectiveness are the two things that can put Scott in a situation where he could expose his tendencies. Despite his training in handling stressful situations and his role as the Xmen's leader, his impulsivity never left him.

You may or may not notice Scott's glare when someone interrupts your conversations. Or how he observes from a distance while you're speaking with someone, clenching his fists, thinking about what could possibly make you laugh that hard or why you feel the need to be so close. It should come as no surprise when you feel uncomfortable or if there is a disagreement that Scott is the first to intervene, standing between you and the said person.

His protectiveness shows when the two of you are on a mission. At first, he believed you could take care of yourself, but has seen how you distract him, taking him away from the task at hand as he rushes to your rescue. You have begun to notice how Scott is giving you fewer missions, making up all sorts of excuses. If you keep pressing him, he'll raise his voice confessing he can't afford to lose you. 

Scott will eventually confess, aware he can't hide his feelings any longer. You must have noticed his intense jealousy, his fear of losing you, and the sometimes confessions of how much you mean to him. Regardless of all those slip-ups, you convince yourself Scott is the good guy; he just has too much on his plate, or so as everyone tells you.

Remy has always known he had feelings for you from the very beginning, but he never imagined those feelings would grow to be as strong as they are now. There was more confusion than there was denial. Even so, with Remy, you had no way of knowing the difference as he gives you his usual charming smile and quips.

Remy happily adapts the role of your 'friend' at first. Finding any excuse to spend time with you, but he never comes across as desperate. Getting up in the morning and heading to the kitchen, Remy already has breakfast and coffee ready just the way you like it. Or when the team plays sports together and he walks over to your side, showing off by purposefully taking off his shirt.

Remy is more jealous than you think. He tries to keep his cool, but you don't notice the quick glare he gives to those who take away your attention - he quickly turns his head the other way to ensure you saw nothing. He'll remark on how close you seem, teasingly asking with a forced smile if you've replaced him.

Still, Remy is more lenient than most; he doesn't consider trapping you in one place. The last thing he wants is for you to look at him with such fear or hatred. He lets you reside in the xmen, and make as many friends and allies, jealousy still stings but is it really that bad to see you happy as long as nothing 'happens'.

With Remy, expect his flirtatious nature to never go away. He always has an incentive to touch you in some way. Whether it's tucking something in place, or placing his hand on your shoulder to catch your attention or on your back to guide you. Every time, he gets bolder, daring you to reject him.

Remy is not all about keeping his feelings hidden; you may never learn the truth of his 'nature', but he lets it be known that he desires you. Remy stays close to you during missions, and if you ask him why, he'll simply respond that he's only watching out for you. Catch him staring and tease him on it, and he'll tease you back, replying he was staring at your gorgeous self. You could even ask of his feelings and he'll come clean.

As said, Remy will eventually make a move, make his feelings known, even if he anticipates being rejected. However, Remy knows that all those moments spent winning you over have done something. Making you warm up to him, allowing him to comfort you during your lowest moments, making you share your deepest secrets. It will all work in his favor.

A life with Remy seems normal to most. Remy the ever most devoted and affectionate, attuned to your every want and need, others look at the two of you with envy. It's just the thoughts in his head, the actions done behind your back, the doubt he whispers in your ear, the strings he pulls would be enough to frighten anyone. But with that charming smile of his, the eyes watching you with fondness, arms wrapped around you as he presses soft kisses on your skin, how could you ever know.

Note- a little nsfw in Logan part, but it's implied

For a man who has lived as long as Logan did, he had countless lovers and night affairs. So his feelings for you were not a surprise. But his intense attachment; the need to be near you at all times left him wondering just how much he really felt for you. 

Logan always watched you from the corner of his eye; years of experience have taught him to go undetected by most. And if he wasn't with you, he's become familiar with your scent, easily focusing on the trace of it. He has made a comment or two teasingly asking if you brought a new fragrance, but you brush it off as Logan being his typical self. 

Mutant or not, Logan is protective of you, as said he watches out for you like a hawk. Even if you're powerful, he still insists on shielding you nonetheless. Besides what are the chances of you overpowering him in the first place. He simply thinks if you were to ever discover his true nature and decide to escape; he'll simply hunt you down and bring you back. 

Despite what most may believe; Logan does not want to cage you. In his eyes, everything is good as long as he stays in the same place. He will give you the impression that you are free to do whatever you wish. There are however moments when Logan's possessiveness and jealousy overcome, he has no qualms in threatening or even unleashing his claws to ensure the person gets the message.

Logan knows out of all people he doesn't seem like the easiest person to approach, he tries to be as "nice" as he can be to get you to warm up to him. There was an instance when you were thirsty/in need of a midnight snack, and you found him in the kitchens. He'll try to begin a conversation, even offer you to sit down. As you warm up to him, you don't notice how he's staring intently at your thighs; visible cause of your pajama shorts. 

Expect Logan to always be there in any mission you go on; Charles merely raises a brow when he demands it, but complies for the time being. He will just shrug if you remark on how the two of you always seem to be paired up. God forbid you sustain any injuries on the missions. Logan will see red, whether it's a sentinel or a person; they are facing his fury.

After he comes back to his senses, Logan will pick you up even when you insist you're fine. Bringing you to the medical bay himself. Standing outside as he informs Hank not to let you know he has been there all day. Moments like these make him question whether you are cut out for this kind of life and that perhaps it's possible to steal you away from others. 

Logan makes a concerted effort to resist at times, but his ugly side is revealed not only by jealousy but in fighting the urge to touch you. Sometimes he gives in to temptation and you feel his fingers caress your check. If you don't resist, he'll bury his face in your neck, letting his lips touch the skin. You will find his hands reaching to take off your clothes, desperate to have you there and then.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I haven't seen any dog stories in a while. How are Charleston and The Hanukkah Goblin doing?

Dog updates!

The first one is a little sad, but also how life should go. Arwen is 14 now and while she's still moving, eating, pooping and generally enjoying life, she also has canine dementia and sundown syndrome where she gets extremely nervous and her dementia gets worse after dark. She'll be with us for a while yet, but it's something we have to manage now.

One person who is very much helping her manage is Herschel. My parents are traveling a lot while they still have the knees for it so I spend a lot of time up at their house, and Charleston and Herschel come up too. Being a Corgi, Herschel likes to manage things, and Arwen would like someone to manage things for her so he's become her self-appointed guide dog.

When I call the dogs for food or outside, he goes and finds her deaf ass and herds her to the location. Normally she doesn't go outside after dark but when the boys are there she's willing to wait for Charlie to chase away anything that might be lurking out there, and then follow Herschel's ass around the yard at night.

Very literally.

She's also got cataracts forming and I think his bright white backside is easy for her to see in the dark, so she follows it around.

During daytime walks she sees well enough but neither she nor Charlie are fans of strange off-leash dogs running up to them (a regrettably common problem out here. I don't care if your dog is friendly MINE ARE NOT!), so both of them prefer to walk half a pace behind Herschel so his more socially adept and knife-filled face is out front to intercept any unwanted solicitors. This does tend to give people the opposite impression though- because he is so much shorter, Herschel gives the impression of a tiny, charming mafioso flanked by his two large and surly bodyguards.

Like, they absolutely would kill a bear for him.

But Charlie and Arwen would also try to kill a bear on general principle.

At night, when Arwen barks at shadows, Herschel runs up and stand between her and the alleged menace, and does his best to look large and intimidating and for as silly as he looks, he does have a very good growl. After a moment, when the alleged bear or congressman or other horror fails to appear, he will stick his nose into the offending shadow, and finding nothing, be satisfied that their joint effort has successfully chased the problem off, and report back to her. This, more than anything else, seems to alleviate Arwen 's fears.

I guess we all just need someone to take us seriously when we're frightened.

Charleston, meanwhile, has gotten into giving safari tours of the front range's small vertebrates.

After eight years of managing his exceptionally high prey drive, something clicked earlier this summer and instead of immediately lunging his whole face at any approximately bite-sized animal in an attempt to expedite it's journey into his stomach, Charlie has started *pointing* at things until I come look at them and tell him he's a good boy. This started with a mole, something he'd never seen before and that moves above ground in a strange way, so he wasn't sure about eating it, so he only alerted at it. "GOOD BOY!" I shouted, giving him all the cuddles. "GOOD SPOT! GOOD JOB NOT EATING IT!"

It's important to reward behavior you want to see.

Since then, he's been trying out pointing at small creatures in the grass and then making very pointed eye contact with me until I come look at them. This is a little tricky when walking both dogs because Herschel is still very much in his "inhale wildlife" phase, but usually I can lock the little gremlin's leash and go look at whatever Charlie has cornered while Herschel attempts to develop telekinesis to will the critter into his mouth.

So far, Charleston has found: a baby rabbit, several baby rabbits in a cluster, an adult rabbit with Jackalope virus, several voles, several moles, a fledgling owl, only the two mice, several mouse-sized grasshoppers and cicada, someone's pet rat (the person was searching within earshot and 'Socks' was collected forthwith), a beanie baby that had me fooled for a hit minute too, a marmot which I didn't know lived down here, a groundhog which I didn't know lived up here, a mink, so many toads, a wild turkey chick, so many more garter snakes and last night, an aquatic shrew.

I don't know if there's an Audubon Society for small things that scuttle around in the undergrowth, but I am inclined to join solely to get Charleston recognition for his service in surveying them.

[daydreamcloudshiding]

#5 Astrology Observations

People with Lilith conjunct personal planet(s) really triggers jealously in others so easily. They could just be sitting somewhere doing nothing and just breathes and that sh*t really trigger people

Mercury in 8th house in Solar Return Chart means that there will be circumstances where you will have no choice but to be honest about your deepest feelings and thoughts. You will also be able to see through other people's lies and their thought patterns

Nessus doesn't always means an abuser or someone who will abuse you. It can show someone who, regardless of intentions, might put you in dangerous situations even without them meaning to. They also will be the one who might lead you to make wrong decisions or giving advice that will ruin your life

Aquarius Moon people are not robots without feelings. They are detached, but they often feel things intensely too, especially when it comes to social issues that they care about. They just don't have that warmth that their opposite, Leo Moon, have. Leo Moons that I know are so expressive and have this need to constantly express, make it known. But not Aquarius Moon. I suspect that oftentimes due to their detachment, they intelectualise their feelings so much

Sister signs can play each other's characters so well in movie roles. A Virgo can act like a Pisces so well, all their somewhat innocent or idealistic tendencies, and a Pisces can act like a Virgo so well, all with their perfectionistic and goody-two shoes demeanour

The easiest to find someone that you can get along with, almost with no effort, is someone who's Sun Signs conjunct your Moon Sign. The moon person feels deeply understood even without the Sun person trying to, and the Sun person represent all the things that the Moon person feels like always has (internally) but perhaps too shy to express outwardly

You will easily connect with the sign that the dominant sign that you have on your Solar Return Chart (for ex. you have a lot of Leo in your SR chart, you will easily connect with Leos)

You know what I find interesting with 8th house synastry? Once you experience this with someone, this create some sort of a pattern in your life that you must break. So for ex. you have abandonment issues with someone that you have 8th house synastry with. Even after you break up with them, this abandonment issues will show up again in your next relationship, even if there is no 8th house synastry with this new person. This 8th house synastry is giving you the chance to truly see your weaknesses/issues and heal them, or you will continue this pattern

Juno-Sun synastry, it's usually the Sun person who is so attracted to the Juno person. The Juno person unconsciously see that the Sun person has what they need in a partner, but the Sun person will see the Juno person as someone who represents the ideal partner (like they oh so perfect for me)

In my experience, Libras are type of people who would pick a bad company rather than being alone. Even if those friends or s/o hates them or abuse them, Libra would pick them, just so that they don't have to be alone. It's one of the reason why they have these people-pleaser tendencies. It's pathetic, really. Because the second you can't be with them all time, they will choose someone else and talk sh*t about you just to please others, while you may not be there for them all the time but you have more heart or loyalties. I'm sorry if this upsets some people, but this is my experience with them.

People with Lilith in 8th house in the natal chart are usually the ones that keep the secrets that's not even theirs to begin with. They have this aura about them that tells people that they are trustworthy, and will take these secrets to the grave. And they are, but I think it's unfair to them. Sometimes these secrets are dangerous and burdensome to them mentally. I wish that people will just keep their own secrets rather than telling others and ask these people to keep these secrets that they can't even keep themselves.

People with Mercury in Scorpio really out here thinking that they can read other people's mind while the truth is that is their own paranoia. I've heard about Scorpio placement being paranoid, but the mercury is really the worst. They will ended up accusing others of f*cked up things, and when they can't provide prove except (it's my intuition), their ego get bruised so bad.

[marragurl]

The idea just hit me: Ratio’s students are called his ducklings 

He’s fully aware of it and makes no move to stop it from spreading around campus. 

Being considered one of Ratio’s ducklings is kinda a big deal because those are the students who are willing to put in the effort and work to keep up with Ratio’s teaching style. 

They are both terrified of him and respect him so much that all the other students are in turn terrified of them. And while the ducklings don’t get any special treatment from Ratio, there’s something special and comforting about being part of the group of students who are willing to stick with Dr. Ratio’s coursework. 

This is how I see it happening: 

It started during Ratio’s first few years of teaching. Not his first year because I fully believe his first few classes were really controversial and had a lot of dropouts once his personality and harsh teaching style were made known. 

It took a while but after a few years, there’s finally a class with no drop outs, even if it’s super small. However, this class are also the students who are dedicated and truly want to learn and refuse to quit even with Ratio’s standards. 

(They still complain and cry of course, the student life is all about pain- no this is not me projecting as a uni student, I’m perfectly sane I promise-)

And of course, like any other student who needs to understand wtf is going on in class, his students do everything in their power to create study groups and attend his office hours, which are 100x scarier in the beginning since that’s prime one-on-one time with Dr. Ratio. 

At least in lecture the man is a hundred seats away from you. Here, he’s speaking directly to your face as he explains just how wrong you are and giving advice on how to fix that. 

At first, due to how unused to Ratio is from having a class of students who are truly trying to keep up with him (whether they’re succeeding is up to interpretation), he only spends time with them during lecture and office hours for the first few weeks. 

And then it spirals.

Around campus, you begin to see the esteemed Dr. Ratio being followed by a gaggle of students tripping  over each other, constantly asking question after question and him answering each one. Even as he’s being blunt, he never looks like he’s trying to outrun them, and even stops occasionally to write in one of the student’s notes.  

The ducklings nickname started out as a joke when someone made the connection of his students following him like baby ducks after lectures, and spiraled a bit more when one of the students found one of his rubber ducks in his office.

And so after finals, that first class of students got together for a nice drinking party to celebrate their freedom. A few drinks in of reminiscing about the class and how they’ll actually kinda miss Dr. Ratio, someone made a joke of buying some rubber ducks for the good doctor. Continuing on the high, an entire gaggle of drunk uni students just pull up to a craft store at 3am and start hunting for ducks. Another brilliant student laughs at the idea of personalizing each duck, and the rest of the class find the idea so funny that they buy out an entire aisle of craft supplies and get to work.

The next day, hungover but still committed to the bit, the entire class show up to Ratio’s office and each hand him a personalized rubber duck along with a terrified thank you for the class. 

Ratio would give his usual denying spiel of how “it is unnecessary” and “your education is all the reward a professor could want” but this is his first ever class with no dropouts and who all managed to pass their finals. 

The man is a failure at not caring, he is crying on the inside.

So he keeps the ducks on a shelf in his office. 

Somehow, the duckling nickname just cements itself after that day, and each class afterwards, despite all the pain and grumbling of the students, are always referred to as Ratio’s ducklings because only the truly insane (dedicated) stick it out and follow after him. 

And after each final, his little ducklings always give him their own personalized rubber duck that he continues to add to his shelf that he always had within eyesight of his desk. 

(the first class of ducklings are his personal favorite, though he’ll never claim to have any)

I’m incapable of not adding Aventurine whenever I talk about Ratio nowadays, I just have to accept that I love them both too much now. 

But yea, I like to imagine Aventurine finding out about the ducklings nickname first and teasing Ratio about actually having a heart and caring, which Ratio just denies and tries to justify as him being an attentive professor. But then Aventurine finds the rubber duck shelf and it’s just too sentimental for him to even think about joking. 

Adding to my headcanon of Aventurine being really curious about different subjects, I imagine that when he gets comfortable, he constantly asks Ratio questions about anything and everything. Ratio happily replies and teaches him. 

I like to think that one day, Aventurine would make his own personalized rubber duck to gift to Ratio as a 'thank you' for always indulging him with his questions and that rubber duck just becomes Ratio’s favorite. He gives it a little podium in his house and office and he constantly carries it around with him. He has photos of the damn thing. His first class find out about the duck and needle him about having ‘no favorites’ which he denies. Aventurine finds it both embarrassing and really cute. 

(I’m kinda pulling from my own experience with one of my old professors. She was terrifying but by god did I actually learn during her class. Every one of us would complain for hours about her exams, and boy were the averages terrible, but we were all also deeply committed to attending every office hour and defending her against the other students. It was like ‘She’s a harsh and insane professor, but she’s our harsh and insane professor.’ Everyone knew you were serious if you chose to take her class instead of other professors for the same course, she was that infamous. If I take 5 seconds to psychoanalyze myself without getting depressed, maybe that’s why I really like Ratio - outside of the burnt-out gifted child thing with emotional expression issues that also hit way too close to home. He just really reminds me of one of my own professors that I still really respect to this day) 

[thekeeperof-thefandoms]

I asked a few of my favorite hazbin writers this and only one answered and it was ok but I felt like it could have been expanded on so here's my take

Vox, Val, Alastor, and Lucifer react to your love language being baking/cooking

Vox

(Starting with him because he's the one thaf inspired this).

Vox came from the 50s and even though I firmly believe he is past all the ingrained gender roles and homophobia I think he still has some internalized misogyny. He wants to be viewed as the man in the relationship, the breadwinner, the provider. He can cook for himself but it's pretty basic food (except steak. Like every other man since the invention of the grill how to bbq has been hardwired into his brain. If his partner also grills ya'll fight over whose turn to cook out it is)

(Unrelated but as a lesbian who loves to grill, and is the designated grill bro, butch lesbians or cookout lesbians are some of Vox's favorite type of gays to chill with)

I firmly believe that's why even though he's a sub, it's so hard and would take time and trust to get him to let you top and enjoy it. He's so worried people will find out and judge him, that you'll judge him. His ego can be very fragile.

Especially if we go with the Vox used to be a cult leader theory. His power, image, and success are linked to his ability to appear in control. To appear to have all the answers and take responsibility. It's going to take a lot of time and patience to unravel all that and help him seperate his personal and professional image.

That being said, a partner who uses acts of service as a love language is perfect for him. He's a busy man, so he tends to be a gift giver type. The gifts are always well thought out and expensive. He wants it to be something you need, want, can get a lot of enjoyment from, and be worth the money spent, so he puts time and effort into them. Unless he's just showing off by giving you his card and telling you to go nuts.

So you taking time to make his coffee for him the way he likes, ordering lunch from his favorite places and having it sent to his office so he remembers to eat, or just texting him reminders to drink water or eat/take breaks throughout the day makes him giddy.

If you're his assistant or something, (and I believe Vox absolutely would have his partner working for him/with him), then it's even better when you take on extra work to try and help him. Organizing his schedule, sorting emails/mail, and proofreading things. Any small act you do for him, because you want to and care about him, makes his heart rate pick up.

It'll really make him overheat, glitching slightly, literal heart eyes, if he comes home after a shitty day and you're cooking for him.

His internal monologue is absolutely raving about what a good housewife you are for him, a hard working husband.

Bonus points if you cleaned too! Either way, he adores you even more now, letting you fret and coo at him, removing his jacket and tie, pouring him a drink and telling him dinner will be ready soon and you made his favorite. He's so tempted to bend you over the counter right now, but that would ruin dinner. After you guys eat though, he's having you for dessert. Man's gonna make sure you know how much he appreciates this by turning your knees to jello, good luck walking tomorrow, doll.

If you bake treats and bring them to VoxTek he's gonna brag so much. Literally the embodiment of John Mulaney's, "That's my wife!" If you bring them just for him, he's defending his treats like they're the last ones in Hell. He has literally hit Val with a fly swatter for even asking if he could have one.

(Unrelated but like, chubby vox maybe? You're cooking is too good)

Valentino

Val wishes he could cook better. He's some kind of latino, so I feel like the fact he can't cook very well is a sore spot culturally. He can make the salsa and chips and like, help with stuff, he knows how to wrap tortillas and tomales (I picture him as like Mexican or Puerto Rican but that's just cuz the town I grew up had a large Puerto Rican group).

It doesn't help that his eyesight is even more shit in Hell. He can't see what he's doing hald the time. It ruins his art hobby too. He's overall just more easily frustrated with his bad eyesight.

I don't imagine you guys dating per se. Maybe you're his sugar baby, maybe you're someone he hired to help him do stuff like clean and organize and you just sorta start doing other things to help him. (Again I'm not saying it excuses jackshit, but as someone who worked with bipolar people and people with mood disorder I kinda see the fan theory in him, either way I think all the Vees could be sort of trained to be better people, but especially Val. We already saw Vox do it.)

After all, he's usually in a much better mood if you do and that means less outbursts. The first few times you cook him something he teases you about being his housewife, tries to make it sexual. It's not really something he clocks as being an act of love because I don't think you'd realize it yourself at first. I think the more you got to see him when he wasn't stressed, lashing out, being abusive, you'd start catching feelings. ("I can fix him", delulu asses)

He loves to be in the kitchen when you cook once it starts becoming a regular thing. He can't see clearly what you're doing but the way you move around the kitchen and get what you need, even if you're an ADHD mess and do steps out of order or at random, he can tell you know what you're doing. He likes to smell the food too while it's cooking.

He will ask you to try and make some spicier/more traditional foods he grew up with, but he doesn’t remember all of the ingredients, and it just gets him more frustrated he can't tell you. If you look them up and surprise him with it it'll probably be the most genuine, human response you get from him.

He's shocked, silent, standing frozen in the penthouse as familiar smells waft around him. You present him a plate nervously, practically shaking hoping it's good enough. The first bite nearly puts him in tears. No one's done anything this nice for him? Why would you? Lowkey thinks you want something from him. It's gonna make him paranoid for a while so don't expect a verbal compliment but he eats it all.

Eventually though, one day when you're in the kitchen cooking, humming softly and swaying your hips, one set of his arms will wrap around your waist, the other reaching around you help with the salsa, or wrap a tamale, and he'll prop his chin on your head and mumble out thanks. Some praise, maybe. Would definitely tell you stories about eating these foods growing up.

It's the first step towards having an actual relationship with him.

Alastor

This man almost always insists on cooking. He isn't much of a sweet tooth either. You tell him one night you want to try cooking for him. Tell him you understand it's an activity he enjoys and relaxes too, (especially if you know it's something that reminds him of his mother), but you want to do something for him and this is one way you show you care.

It's gonna remind him of his Mama so much that if you didn't know why he loved cooking so much before you do now. He compromises. You pick the meal and gather the ingredients and do most of the cooking and he helps prep and does dishes.

He playfully critiques you the entire time about adding some spice too it or a little southern flair. Just smack him with the wooden spoon, gently. It's gonna make him laugh because his Mama used to do that when he wouldn't keep out of the sweets, or tried to add stuff to her cooking.

Once you start it becomes habit to help each other in the kitchen every night, trading off who cooks and who preps and does dishes.

If you do find baked goods he likes that aren't too sweet and send them to him as snacks, especially to Overlord meetings, he's so fucking obnoxious about his sweet little doe (doesn't matter if you are one or not) and how they spoil him. Especially rubs it in Vox's face (not him whining to his partner so they send him with treats too so he can also brag).

Only shares with Charlie, Rosie, Niffty, and sometimes Zestiel. If he's feeling generous, Husk can have a bite.

Low-key also has a thing for his partner behaving domestically even if he isn't exactly invested in traditional marriage.

Favorite activity though is dancing with you in the kitchen to jazz while dinner cooks, holding you close, in his room usually, so he can hear the sounds of the bayou. If he closes his eyes he can pretend this is how his life went and that his Mama is in the corner or sitting in her chair, watching him, happy to see him find someone.

He will literally kiss Vox willingly before admitting that last part though.

Lucifer

It's not that he can't cook, it's just....it's easier to just snap his fingers and make food appear. He's been in a depressed slump for decades man, he's lived off of the 'want food, no cook, only eat' mindset.

When you come into his life it's a complete overhaul. Despite what issues you have yourself you can recognize someone in worse state than you and immediately categorize and prioritize. First thing first, get this man's duck collection/obsession organized, thinned out, and under control.

Second, help him work through his issues with Lillith and Charlie. Encourage therapy, be a mediator between him and Charlie (and trust me she appreciates it. She knows her dad struggles, didn't know how bad, and still feels awkward). Help him socialize more, rebuild his connection with the other sins.

Get this man a work schedule!

Then it's on to personal habits. You help him get out of bed, you're both probably a little helpless in the sleeping on time category though. Help him get a routine again to keep out of his funk. Then you start cooking for him. It just happens naturally. You enjoy cooking, you enjoy showing people you love how much you care by providing good meals.

At first he's gonna resist and tell you he can handle that, you already do so much for him. He can cook or better yet he can just make it appear and you laugh and tell him it tastes better when it's made with love. He brushes it off as a joke too, you're both just being silly and obviously you said that to get him to quit fussing. Except, unholy hell does it actually taste so much better.

Lucifer hadn’t realized how bland and unsatisfying just materializing the food was. Maybe that's because he was so depressed and uninterested in what he ate, maybe not. Either way, your cooking is so much fucking better. He actually looks forward to eating now. If he gets caught up in work or has a bad day, you make sure to always bring him something, leaving it as an offering of sorts. It almost always works and entices him to eat at least once.

You cook, he does dishes, and he will not budge on that rule. He wants to be a fair man. He occasionally boots you out to do dessert, though. Apple pie is his bitch and you've never tasted one as good as his. He also makes good pancakes and some absolutely orgasmic angel's food cake.

Ironicall, devil's food cake is one of your go to recipes. Sometimes you both make a cake and take it to events just to watch people get confused as fuck when it's revealed the literal Devil did not make the devil's food cake.

Everyime you're in the kitchen together it's a disaster, you're both to silly and chaotic. You were making noodles one time and he threw flour at you so you smacked him with the noodle you were holding, leaving a line of flour and a speck of dough against his cheek. From there it escalates. It happens every time. Making cakes together, you're smashing frosting on each other. Making cookies, you're fighting each other to stop eating cookie dough.

Once, after you get fed up with him stealing her spatula to lick the chocolate off of, hovering above you with his wings, you pout and bat your eyes, asking him sweetly to please give it back. He swoops down in front of you, booping your nose to smear chocolate on it and leaning in to kiss you, letting you have a taste of the chocolate batter you were mixing for brownies. While his tongue is in your mouth, drunk off the taste of you and chocolate you smash an egg over his head and let out a triumphant cheer, snatching back your spatula.

He's so stunned his wings disappear and he drops the last few inches to the ground while you cackle. His heart is pounding, his ears are ringing, and his chest feels like it's gonna explode. His eyes are literal sparkles. He hasn't felt this much joy, wonder, and love since Charlie was born. It feels like witnessing creation all over again, of the breathlessness he felt when he first saw Lillith.

You're laughter stops when you realize he's just staring at you awestruck and you smile, asking if he's ok.

"For once...yeah..Yes. I'm ok." He responds, genuinely. You kiss his cheek and resume baking. He watches you from the counter now, dreamily, thinking about how he's gonna marry you someday.

[bunicate]

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒅. al haitham x fem reader

warnings ꒱ hybrid au . bunny reader. bath-time with haithy ! fingering. subtle hand kink. fluff ﾉ wc ꒱ 2.4k ﾉ 18+

al haitham finds himself lost in his own musings more often these past moons. instead of his mind circling around any new wonder of the world, he’s recalling small moments enough times that distract him from his usual thinking.

at first, he tried to organize such thoughts into some semblance of order and question why they appeared in the first place until he realized for once, that he didn’t need an answer. he didn’t want one.

while peeling apart that revelation— scraping away at the edges, he wondered if doing so would give him that same sweetness or grant him the seeds to plant more. somehow it was the latter.

the seeds sprouted prickly vines that sunk into both his heart and mind.

now al haitham spends his walk home just remembering tiny exchanges down to the most minute detail. the meeting of fingertips, eyes squinting from the blinding warmth, sleep woven into each wrinkle, frown, and soft giggle.

the scribe had become even more reluctant to be pulled away from his own thinking, but he makes an exception when the one occupying his thoughts excitedly appears before him.

just seconds after he steps through the door of his home, he’s ripped away from his reverie. al haitham is nearly sent back into the outdoors from the solid weight that collides against him. he uncharacteristically loses his footing and the hardwood floor might’ve been his fate if not for his fast reflexes.

pillowy arms latch tightly around his slender waist and fluffy ears tickle his abdomen. face nuzzling into his lower stomach, carelessly grazing his groin, you whine, “haitham . . . you’re finally back.”

the smell of his scent mingled with the aroma of the desert warms your senses. leftover speckles of the granular sand on his clothes poke at your skin, and yet you pull him closer.

“I missed you sooooo much.”

he nods, “I’ve returned.”

you tilt up to look at him with your dolly eyes that enamor him. eyes that once belonged to a creature that only sparked his curiosity was now a companion.

his hand rests on your head, careful to put it between your floppy ears. the tip of his fingers scratch and caress the surface and he’s rewarded with your expectant purr.

your tail flits from the bubbling eagerness to receive more of his affection. he recalls his roommate chiding him for not being soft enough with you, but he begged to differ.

reminded of the blonde, he wonders aloud, “is kaveh here?”

al haitham doesn’t make a habit of thinking about the architect, but he’s grown wary. it seemed like kaveh had also fixed his attention to you. a ribbon unfamiliar to al haitham adorns your hair and there could only be one person responsible.

“mhm! he’s in his room.”

eyes run down the curves of your body. his oversized shirt did nothing but define the slopes of your breast and rise above your tail perched above your butt.

“what did I say about your clothes ?”

arms falling to your sides, your lips jut out into a tempting pout. “I know what you said, but I’m wearing panties this time,” you petulantly mumble.

you had a terrible habit of walking around completely bare. while the loose shirt was a step up from complete nudity, he didn't need kaveh to see anything else. he recalls the architect walking in on your naked body on multiple occasions.

“I suppose,” he hums. “still, I’d prefer if he didn’t catch any more glimpses of you.”

you chuckle lightheartedly at the man displaying clear signs of jealousy, but it’s interrupted by a yawn. your head shakes reactively trying to rid your body of the drowsiness and play it off in an effort to fool the scribe into letting you stay up later but, nothing made it past him.

“it is rather late. let’s get you to bed. '' he reaches out to hold your hand, but you don't take it.

head tilted to the side you ask, “I need to take a bubble bath first ! are you gonna come?”

you lean closer to him, fullest parts pressing against his athletic frame in a cute attempt to entice him , but he shakes his head. ever the busiest scribe.

“I have some paperwork to finish and I wanted to catch up on some light reading before I retire for the night .”

your ears droop.

“but–”

your ears perk back up.

“I could help you, if that’s what you want,” he offers.

you instantly spring back to life. “oh yes, please!” you squeal excitedly, grabbing his hand to lead him noisily up the stairs. nearly tripping over yourself, still you drag him to the bathroom.

“be careful,” he scolds, but you just laugh at his tense and worried expression.

shutting the door after you both enter, you hop up on the counter and wait patiently.

al haitham shakes his head, a ghost of a smile forming. he takes off his gloves and rests them on the cluttered sink. this mess was undoubtedly your doing, and he makes a note to bring it up later. he turns on the hot water and when it rises a bit higher, he dips his hand to feel the temperature and he's quick to pull it out. he preferred the water to be much more tepid while you liked it to be boiling.

he senses your eyes on him watching as he pours the vanilla-scented soap into the water waiting for the bubbles to form into clouds.

when he finally turns to face you, he’s met with a bright smile only you could own. not a word was spoken. silence was enough to consume the delicate air between the both of you .

you decide to hop off the counter and pull the cotton t-shirt off your body. al haitham moves to crouch, resting on his knee to pull down your underwear. your hand leans on his shoulder as you take your time to step out of the undergarment.

left foot first and then the right.

you do a little hop when you almost lose your balance, but he steadies you, staring at your bare cunt.

you turn your back to him and he ogles at your ass before standing to his full height. towering over you and standing close behind, you feel his breath grazing your neck. agile fingers sweep your hair towards your shoulder blades, tickling the warmth of your skin to unhook your necklace that acted as a collar. he places the fine jewelry on the sink and extends his arm towards you once more.

you place your hand between his and he leads you to the tub. you submerge yourself completely in the water and al haitham plays with the bubbles before washing you up.

you both use the moment to admire each other's features. gray-ish hair hovers over his eyes that betray no emotion and still you can make out his affections. your gaze trails down to his nose, lips, and wide shoulders. the muscles in his arms flex as he drags the soapy cloth along your body and you bask in the moment before he decides to break the silence.

“what did you do today?” the cloth glides over your chest, easily soothing you.

“nothin’ much. kaveh came home early and he bought me a slice of cake.”

of course he did. kaveh always had a tendency to obsess over pretty things so it was only natural that he’d flock to you– a cute and helpless bunny. ever since this place has equally become your home kaveh wasn’t good at being discreet. his touches lingered for far too long and al haitham became keen on how much time kaveh spent with you while he was away at the akademiya. but he could at least feel secure knowing you were safe.

hybrids, a species often neglected and exploited needed to be protected, and he guessed he could rest easy knowing he had another pair of capable hands to rely on.

“h-haithy !”

your sudden cry lures him out of yet another daydream but this time he’s flustered. he understands the alarm in your eyes when he realizes how close his hand was to your nether regions, crassly nudging your cunt for the past few minutes.

he exhales and sputters at the sight and he’s quick to pull his arm away, but you stop him. it’s the first you’ve seen him taken aback and you want to tease him like he does to you , but you can’t—not when desire engulfs you to the point of ruin.

“n-no ! . . . leave it please ?”

both of your hands tug his further into the water, knees coming closer together around his his limb, just until you feel that graze against heat.

al haitham remains quiet, closely watching your next move to see what you’d do now. your head reclines back to rest on the tile wall, your fingers guide his own to your middle, and with steady humps against his wrist you feel relief that rids that redundant ache.

“. ‘haitham, can we? . . just for a little bit ?”

he didn’t think he could say no even in a light-hearted jest.

you nearly collapse in on yourself when you finally feel him becoming receptive to your inclination.

his fingers feathers at the seam of your lips. instead of making it easy for you, he’d rather give you the tools to bring yourself to your own high. he would only give you a running start.

his palms slide up cupping and then squeezing the plumpness of your cunt. it fits perfectly in his hand, hot and sticky even when submerged under the water. a finger slides down to settle on your clit, circular rubs turn into slow strokes. if you wanted to feel more, you’d have to work for it yourself.

your small hand wraps around his wrists trying to feel more of him. “hnnn . . want them inside, haithy.”

he’s deliberately pressing down on the sensitive bulb hoping to draw out your cute moans, ignoring your simple request. al haitham's gaze is glued to your tummy folding over and your spread legs. between them is perfect pussy spoiled and eager to receive more of his touch.

his digits slide down your outer lips to press down on your hole. probing it, teasing it until it twitches greedily for more. he moves around the orifice collecting slick that struggles to disperse in the water.

“ haitham . . .” you beg. his eyes flicker to your pleading ones. lip tucked under your teeth and brows drawn tight, your chest expands as you greedily suck in air, hips gyrating into his palm hoping for him to satisfy you. “please.”

he smirks and to your luck, two fingers enter and stretch you. long and nimble things your pussy takes the shape of. they scissor and separate to feel the heaviness of your walls clamping down.

“so tight.”

the veins in his flexing arm are prominent. you see the force behind his movements as well as feel it. his biceps bulge while his fingers jerk you to completion . the sounds of you the splashing water and your whiny moans further arouse you

“you’re close to cumming already ?” he provokes. “ from just my fingers, too. it seems I must train you just a bit more.”

the bass in his voice sends a tremor down your spine. his words of encouragement provoke more of your thoughtless pants and the swivel of your hips. just a bit more—more of his knuckles stretching your walls, more of those eyes you fell in love with looking back at you with an unspoken, ravenous haze.

it makes you bashful. your damp bunny ears fall over your eyes, shielding them from his hungry stare.

“oh?” his expression darkens and his tone drips in a taunting and authoritative tone.

“are you hiding from me now ?”

it should make you quiver, but you know him well enough by now. as stoic as he may appear, the caress of your folds tell a different story.

you foolishly part your mouth to audibly confirm but a broken gasp escapes at the coil slowly winding up inside of you.

“you shouldn’t be so shy. wouldn’t you rather see who’s making you writhe? don’t you want to see how you’re fucking my hand like a wild bunny rabbit in heat?”

your hair sticks to your face from the steamy room and the sweat that gleams your skin. you pull your floppy ears away from your eyes and you’re met with the sight of his handsome face. contrary to his expression, the sight before him acted as a fire, melting him into remnants of himself.

his cock twitches against his snug pants, itching to enter your gooey cunt. how well you’d behave— how obedient you’ll be when he seats you on his member and you’ll hop up and down like good bunnies are supposed to.

with how generously your pussy has been tugging on his fingers, he’s more than willing to test that theory.

your eyes are tempted to screw shut but you want to watch. sensing your conflict, al haitham nods in approval to coax you.

“that’s more like it. you’re hard to resist when you’re so obedient.”

his fingers work themselves inside of you, precise thrusts, muscles defined and on display. he’s so . . . big, so filling and you might just lose it.

a prolonged gasp echoes as your thighs squeeze around his muscular arm. the continuous strokes of your sticky walls forces you upright into a sweltering mess. your pussy’s throbbing quickens erratically until he feels the rhythm steady out into a slow pulse— suckles that pulls his digits deeper toward yours sacred spot until you couldn’t anymore.

your senses fail when his thumb rubs your little clit to help drag out your end. you were nothing but a drooly and overstimulated shell of yourself, with meek moans falling from your mouth.

“yeah, that’s a good girl.”

he doesn’t stop milking you. his other hand reaches out to scratch behind your furry ears in praise while you crumble to pieces. he carefully removes his fingers from inside of you and pats your pussy that puffed from his ministrations. it pulsated around nothing—twitching like a bunny’s nose.

“I’d say you’re more than satisfied.”

you’re exhausted and still you nuzzle into his palm. what was once supposed to be a relaxing bath was now a drawn-out session of your dear owner playing with your sore cunt. still he admires your tired and spent state moving to actually get you clean this time.

“let’s get you to bed.”