#nun's like: are we flirting?

[lured-into-wonderland]

once strides have guided them out of view, out of visions so piercing and full of uncalled judgement, did a calloused hand seek out. mirroring a devious serpent, as arm slides gracefully around golden princess' petite waist. a pull, a drag, alike the touch of a feather, does war incarnate guide the sun and seas into half an embrace. like a shield, found towering presence looming himself upon radiant existence, within his hold. a chuckle, rumbles upward, through the volcanic tunnel of a throat.

' - fear not. none is looking. ' he almost hums, and he sways two bodies from side to side, gentle, to the drum of faint musical instruments, in the far distance of the halls. war could not help himself, to brush those fair locks of hers, out of her stunningly shaped visage.

' do tell, dear princess, is it truly a round of chess you were seeking for? or have you had some ulterior motives, to such bold request? what was it again? you wish to mate me? ' - ( oseis/nunnally )

She could not blame the ladies at the court that they laughed at her. She should not have gotten involved in a game, in a competition that was not hers; that she could not win. Nunnally was proud, but not too proud to admit to herself that disturbing the cheerfulness of that circle around Lord Oseis, that proposing a game of chess, no matter the choice of words, was already that one step too far. Showing to the world - or rather to the court as what would the world care? – that she had the same feelings, and perhaps even the same desires, as everyone else. Something that she was forbidding herself to express as long as she remembered. Why was she so eager to toss aside her only shield against all those who despised her? What was it in that man that he was leaving her so fragile, so exposed?

She was grateful War did not laugh; Nunnally could stand all the soft mockery of the court ladies, but would not accept his (even if deserved?). She was used to such a treatment. The lonely princess whose only guilt was that she was not the expected son. A heiress and not a heir. Three letters that were changing so much. More like everything? His deep bow, the chivalrous reply and the light critique of what had just happened, but without having her tainted, without having her involved made Nunnally think that Lord Oseis was not only her sword but also her shield? Her armour against the world?

She happily accepted the arm offered to her, forcing herself to seem, to act casual and not eager. She spoke nothing; they did not deserve her words. Their giggles did not require her reply. And Lord Oseis, as well as everyone else, would simply understand what taking his arm meant. Their steps were quiet as they were leaving the ball room, but as they were being watched by those gathered there, they seemed to drown out all other sounds. A few more strides and she was safely led out to the refreshing coldness of the halls and their nooks and crannies that probably witnessed so many laughs and tears of lovers seeking their solitude…Why was she suddenly thinking about that?

( “(…) I do now vow and I do not kneel…(…)” ) his words were ringing in her mind like red flags when the War Incarnate gently pulled her into a hug…into a dance…his grip so feathery, yet so firm. Lord Oseis was almost not touching her, but why did it feel like he was caging her, tying, taking her proud…her freedom away?  

(“ Fear not. None is looking.”) – his luring words as if he could feel her blood quickening and her lungs desperately grasping for air; oh, how good it was that he was mistaken! That what Lord Oseis thought was a fear of being seen, of being discovered, was, indeed, a fear that she would allow herself to indulge into his touch…that she would let herself feel what she had decided she never would. But she never danced in such a way! She did not want Lord Oseis to be only her sword, her shield, her armour…she wanted him to be…no! Nunnally would not admit that even to herself as that could be the first sign to mark the beginning of her end…

His words…they terrified the girl…who was he? How could he read her so easily?

“My Lord…” – her voice seemed so distant, so unnatural – “Since when a game of chess has become a bold request?” – he was not human! Nunnally was sure of it by then, although she could still not decide on who he was. Was Lord Oseis her end? Or was he a new beginning for her? – “Unless you’re suggesting a game for much higher stake?”

(“I wish to mate you?”) – was it what she said? – (“You wish to mate me?”) – was that what he said? Her own words used against her? But she was going to stay truthful to them.

“That’s what it was, My Lord. I wish to mate you…don’t you wish to mate me?” – were they still taking about chess? Was she still taking about chess?

“Winning…seeing the king…the queen collapse…isn't that what you desire?”

@equos

[mikakuna]

catholic jason is like

random: wanna have sex?

jason: sorry i'm waiting until marriage

random: you literally kill people

jason: and? that's between me and my god

[yandereunsolved]

ღ Yandere Richard 'Dick' Grayson ღ

"We gotta stop meeting like this, y'know? You and me, the fighting vigilante versus the mysterious villain."

The villain that has unfortunately captured my heart.

"Take a fight with me serious for once!"

"I can't. You just look so cute when you're angry at me."

I bet you look even more adorable under that mask of yours.

"When I get my hands on you—"

"You'll do sinful things that would make a nun blush?"

From what I have gathered from stalking you, you are more than capable of that.

"Incorrect. I'm going to murder you."

"You can't even seem to land a hit on me, sweeheart."

It's funny that after all of these fights, you still think you could outdo me in combat.

"Fuck you."

"I enthusiastically consent to that."

We'd have a good time as well. I wonder how experienced you are. It'd be a lot easier to tell if I could just tell who you are beneath the suit and mask.

"Ugh, Nightwing!"

"I love how my name spills from those pretty lips of yours."

If only it was my real name.

"Argh— Stop flirting with me."

"Only if you finally give in and become Mx. Nightwing."

Please, say yes.

"Never."

"You will one day." I'll make you if I have to.

[bekolxeram]

Continuing on the theme of things I've missed while S7 was airing, we have to talk about the (failed) first date. I admit it gave me too much second hand embarrassment that I usually skipped it on a rewatch. Once I managed to brave through that I realized I did miss something important, so here is another scene breakdown. Again, it's just my own interpretation.

The title of 7x05 is You Don't Know Me, that seems to be the theme of the episode: the Wilsons figuring out Mara's trauma, Eddie finding out Marisol's former nun training, Buck trying to navigate the whole dating a man thing, but they all end up making an effort to make the relationship work.

The date scene starts at the end of the actual date. We don't see much of the getting to know each other stuff, but judging by their faces, it's gone pretty well. At this point they don't know about each other's movie preference yet, so Tommy picks a place where they can decide on arrival, with Buck's input. That also signifies the nature of this date, they're literally "keeping their options open" and just seeing where it goes, without any major expectation.

Buck still seems visibly nervous, but Tommy reassures him that they're just two guys having dinner, it's a very ordinary thing that nobody cares.

Buck pretends he's at ease, Tommy points out he seems a little tensed, but he understands Buck's worry. Tommy speaks about the masculine nature of their job and tells Buck that people are more accepting than he thinks, which sounds awfully like it's from experience.

I think Buck sees it too, so he asks Tommy, who seems perfectly confident in his sexuality and masculinity, if he's been always out on a job. Tommy tells Buck about the 118 under G*rrard, this explains to the audience why Tommy seemed to be straight and a part of the boys club back in S2.

So Tommy was at least aware of or questioning his sexuality at the 118. Mr. "my girlfriend is totally coming next week" and "single is much easier than scaring women" was full blown lying about his sexual orientation. Chances are he does understand Buck's nervous fumbling, as he's probably done worse in the past.

Here comes the seemingly recurring theme of Buck making things all about himself, whether you agree with this or not, he does have a tendency to get stuck in his own head. Tommy assures him yet again that he's not accusing Buck of anything, he's just sharing his own experience to empathize.

Tommy looks a bit surprise when Buck tells him it's his first date with a dude. It's probably new information to Tommy.

And then Buck tries showing Tommy that he holds no prejudice towards queerness because he's an ally, completely oblivious to the fact that he's also one of them. Tommy tries to follow as much as he can.

Tommy senses that Buck is spiraling, trying to pull out random stuff just to bring the date back on track, so he flirts with him just to lighten up the mood and for the third time of the night, reassure him of his interest in him and the rest of the night.

Then Eddie and Marisol walk in, and Buck panics. I know Buck tells Maddie later that he "makes it seem like they were just hanging out", but if you go back to this scene, Tommy is the one who covers for Buck and takes the initiative to agree with Eddie and tell him they're just doing normal bro hangout stuff.

7 seaons in, we all know Buck doesn't have the best luck with first dates. The more he likes someone, the more likely it is for him to mess it up. So of course he has to self-sabotage here and drag Tommy into the closet with him, even though Tommy's already covered for him and Eddie is ready to move on. Tommy doesn't like mad here, he looks disappointed.

For what it's worth, Buck's hot chick comment actually makes things worse. Look at how confused Eddie's reaction is.

This snarky joke from Tommy has caused some controversy among part of the fandom. Some believe that Tommy could've outed Buck with it, but I beg to differ. Eddie knows Buck very well, Buck has always dated women. On the other hand, Eddie has never heard of Tommy dating a woman, he might have attributed it to the recency of their friendship, but that's why he immediately makes the connection in his head that Tommy is gay when Buck comes out to him later in the episode. Even if Eddie had superhuman intuition and understood the double entendre of this closet comment, Tommy would be outing himself, not Buck.

Here is another controversial moment: Tommy doesn't explain anything to Buck until the Uber is here, and he just leaves him there. First, Buck is a grown man, he can get himself home, there is no concern for his safety. Second, Tommy has every right to leave the date if he doesn't vibe with it. When Tommy tells Buck he's adorable, I don't think he's referring to Buck's overall demeanor. I think he means that Buck's nervous fumbling into queerness doesn't scare him, he actually finds it quite endearing. But after reassuring him 3 times, even going as far as telling Eddie, someone they can trust, that they're just hanging out, Buck still feels the need to make the hot chick comment and push them both into the closet, Tommy realizes that things would not go any better if they continue the date. Buck has not fully processed the fact that he's bisexual and he's dating a man. I'm sure Tommy really likes Buck as well, he want to make it work, so to him, the best course of action at the moment is to take a step back and let Buck figure things out himself first.

To Buck this may sound like Tommy is letting him down easy, but I think Tommy is consciously not shutting anything down here. He absolutely will see Buck around, he's still Eddie's friend. Tommy knows they will have to talk about it in the future, but for now, it's best to put a pause on things just to give Buck some space to process. What Tommy doesn't know is that Buck has been dumped so many times that he thinks this is it.

Therefore, not only does Tommy never intend to out Buck during the date, he is willing to keep things ambiguous for Buck's comfort. Ultimately, it isn't enough for Buck, so Tommy takes a step back for Buck to figure things out on his own.

[dilfl0v3rss]

hiii, I love your work, just wanted to ask if you would do the “shes busy bro” text thing with the baldies

i’m so slow bc this is not what you meant but i made the texts too don’t worry😭

she’s busy

𝑜𝑛𝑦

it wasn’t your fault that the waiter was flirting with you while ony was using the bathroom, but he still took it very personal. you knew how he felt about that “friendly” attitude you seemed to have towards people. and even though the waiter had no business trying to get your number while he was in the bathroom, you had no business giggling and smiling in his face like you were going to give it to him. you were both wrong, but since ony can’t deal with the waiter tonight, he will deal with you.

“ma stop wit the runnin. you not goin nowhere.” ony groaned, yanking your hips back to him as you tried to crawl away from his relentless backshots. “i-i didn’t even d-do nun” he chuckled at your weak defense, thrusting back into you at full speed to shut you up. “and ian doing nun right now either. you lucky ion got yo ass cuffed up. daddy bein nice” ony jingled the cuffs in his hand before putting them down and continuing his brutal thrusts, your stomach brushing the sheets as he held your back down with one hand. you decided to just shut up, because little did he know you gave the waiter your number. to you, ony was just overreacting. he seemed like a genuinely nice guy to you so you gave it to him hoping the two of you could become good friends.

*ring ring* the sound of your phone snatched the both of your attention. ‘please don’t be him please don’t be him please don’t be him’ you repeatedly thought as ony picked up your phone. of course the guy had one of those automatic contacts with the picture so ony immediately knew it was him. “oh so this what we doin now?” he mumbled, dick still fully hard inside you as he showed you the screen. “i-it’s not what it looked like baby. i wanna be his f-friend”

ony scoffed as he answered the phone, smirking as an idea popped up in his head. the next thing you knew he was starting his quick pace up again, pounding you into the sheets as he spoke normally through the receiver. “yo?….you looking for my girl?……nah nah nah it’s all good. she right here” he put the phone towards your mouth before thrusting into you even harder, making sure to get each one of your pitiful moans through to him. “d-daddy pleaseeee m’gonna….fuckk m’gonna cummm!” you screamed as you felt his dick kissing your cervix. he brought the phone back to his ear, hearing nothing but the man’s breathing on the other line. “she busy right now…..move your fucking hand ma m’not playin wit you….delete this number or your next shift at that lil restaurant gon be your last” and with that he hung up the phone. you already know you were gonna get it as soon as you heard the sound of metal clanking. the fur of the cuffs brushing against your ass while ony spoke.

“gimme your hands mama”

𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑒

“you can do it mami. just give me one more and you can get a break ‘kay?” connie said before dipping his tongue back inside your awaiting pussy. you came home from work with tears in your eyes as you explained to connie the rude words your coworker uttered to you. sentences like “what are you, stupid?” and “jesus you can do anything right” thrown your way all day as your frustrated colleague used you as a punching bag.

in order to help fix your sad face, connie decided to change it into one of pleasure. sitting in between your thighs for hours as he gave you words of encouragement and reassurance to help uplift your spirits. “you not dumb mi vida. smartest girl i know so don’t even trip over that . papi gon fix it” connie’s mouth worked wonders on you, kissing, licking, and sucking orgasm after orgasm to keep you from thinking about the harsh words said to you.

the vibration of your phone took connie’s attention. the contact name “charles (coworker)” was calling you. connie brought the phone to your face, giving you time to read the name as he continued pleasuring you with his fingers. “this him?” all it took was a singular nod from you before connie had the phone answered and at his ear. he could hear the man trying to apologize almost instantly. “listen y/n. m’really sorry about how i was actin today. i was just frustrated and you were the closest person to me. please let me make it up t’you with dinner or something”

connie looked up at you, pretty eyes all glossy and low as you tried not to scream from how heavenly connie’s fingers fucked you. he mouthed a “you wanna talk to em?” smiling as you quickly shook your head no. “didn’t think so” he said before putting the phone to his ear. “this her man. she s little preoccupied at the moment” connie quickly flicked his tongue on your clit, digging quicker and deeper into you with his fingers to draw out a loud moan. “auughhh ohh my goddd” your back arched off the bed as you felt your release coming close. connie continued to finger you while he moved his mouth from your clit to speak. “uhh she most definitely will not be having dinner wit your punk ass tho so you can dead that shit. m’not gon fuck you up cause she told me how much you need every check from that lil job, but if she come here crying again cause of you ima break your jaw”

𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑛

“fuck keep suckin it jus like that mama” aran groaned as you were hard at work on his living room floor. knees burning from being in the same position for so long as you sucked the life out of aran’s dick while he sat on the couch. were you supposed to be here? fuck no, but there was no way you were turning down going to see the d1 athlete just so you can be home arguing with your bum ass ex boyfriend.

aran has been trying to get at you for awhile, and you would’ve been with him too if your ex would just hurry up and move out. he’s been purposely dragging his feet when it came to getting his shit out of your house, always lingering on the couch when you have company over to keep you from moving on. you don’t want to put aran through that so the two of you just settled for this. coming over to his place and getting the best dick if your life every weekend.

you had both of your hands wrapped around his thick dick. stroking him with a tight grip as you sucked on his tip. your eyes trained on his beautiful physique as you watched his big pecs move up and down with each breath. “shit girl you gon make me trap you” he chuckled as he watched you slap the head of his dick all over your tongue, spit dripping all over him as the both of your brown eyes locked. “do it daddy” you sighed before taking his full length down your throat. “oh i will”. the sound of your ringtone went off into the air, the both of you ignoring it as you continued, but it didn’t stop there. whoever was calling must’ve been dying or something because after the call came a bunch of notifications, then it rang again.

“man who the fuck-” aran mumble, his annoyed face quickly becoming one of mischief as he read the name on your phone. “s’randy” he said with a smirk. you rolled your eyes as you released his dick with a pop. “gimme i’ll just turn it off” you went to reach for the phone, but aran pulled it out of your reach, a petty smirk on his face as he answered the call and put the phone to his ear. before you could protest, his big hand found the back of your head, pushing you back down on his dick for you to continue.

“wassup randy. how you been nigga?” you rolled your eyes as you continued to let aran guide your head up and down. your tongue running along the underside of his dick while he continued to talk to your ex. “who is this? tell y/n it’s time to come home. m’hungry and i need her to cook something” randy mumbled, probably sitting on the couch surrounded by bear bottles and filth. “she busy. eating right now as we speak. how it taste mama?” aran said before pushing your head all the way down, his dick hitting the back of your throat as you gagged loudly into the receiver. aran brought the phone back to his ear with a smirk before letting go of your head. it was time for payback so you wrapped both of your hands around him again, quickly stroking him before roughly sucking his sensitive tip. “ooouu shit man we gotta go”

𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑘𝑎

“ohhh my godddd i’m about to give you a baby” tanaka groaned as he watched your skillfully bounce on his dick. large inked hands gripping your hips as the two of you moaned in unison. “want you t’nut in me daddy. cum in this pussy” tanaka’s eyes rolled at your words, the thought of him filling you up bringing him closer to his climax. he was the best bff you could ever ask for.

you’ve been having some issues with a guy you were talking to. he couldn’t seem to be able to grasp the fact that you are a bad bitch and could easily replace him if he didn’t act right. so that’s exactly what you did. you “replaced” him with tanaka. posting him and going on little “dates” with your best friend to get his attention. the two of you never expected to actually fall for each other. letting your true feelings take over as you plopped yourself repeatedly on his dick. you had forgotten all about your ex.

you knew he’d come crawling back one of these days, and you couldn’t wait to break the new to him that you were intact in love with another man. *ring ring* ‘just on time’ you thought as you snatched up your phone on the first ring, picking it up as you began to bounce harder on the man below you. “s-shittt who it that?” tanaka grumbled, but you ignored him. listening to the man on the other line beg for forgiveness. “listen baby i didn’t know it would be like this. i was stupid to think i didn’t need you. you were the best thing that every happened to me please give me another chance.”

a giggled escaped from your mouth before you put the phone to tanaka’s ear. “it’s my ex” you said before letting tanaka listen to the pitiful man beg. a smile planted on his face before he quickly brought your face down to his by your neck, thrusting up into you quickly. you tried to swallow your moans but he was just fucking you too good. “fuck daddy s-slow downnnn” you moaned, eyes rolling back as tanaka held the phone between your faces on speaker.

“stop bitchin, she can’t even talk right now. too busy getting fucked by her new man”

[luveline]

halloweekend is starting early here and i’m dressed as a slutty nun, has me thinking what would hotch think seeing you in a sexy (perhaps taboo) halloween costume?? maybe he had to work late so he came to the halloween party straight from the office so you met there, and he’s holding himself back bc you look sooooo good….

cw suggestive mdni

Hotch grew up in a time full to bursting with slut-shaming and self-expression alike. Women wore tiny dresses as they wear now, and he never thought himself a sexist —he never had a problem with a slip of skin. 

But this is… Well, he's ashamed of himself for wanting to wrap you up in his suit jacket and ferry you home. 

"Handsome!" you yell, jumping off of the garden seat you'd been sitting in with a drink slipping down your fingers. "You actually came! You're here!" 

He's thinking and thank God I did, because he trusts you, and he doesn't think for a second you'd entertain other people, but he can't imagine missing out on this. This is a lot. 

"You're drinking?" he asks, not scornful, just surprised. 

"I didn't know you were coming and I'm bored out of my mind! But this is my first, sweetheart." You offer it to him. "So no, I wouldn't say I'm drinking." 

He takes your drink, his head racing with thoughts of your naked arms and legs, your sheer white babydoll dress. "Is this lingerie?" 

"It's my costume," you whine gently. "Why do people keep asking me that?" 

Hotch slides his empty hand down the length of your side, the tulle of your baby doll soft as down on his palm. "And you're a… angel?" 

"Duh. You can't see my halo, but it's there." 

Your waist in his hand, the warmth of your skin seeping slow in his, Hotch can almost ignore the surrounding party goers and all their noise, until a friend comes forward demanding an introduction, and another. We've been waiting to meet her oh-so-intimidating beau. Hotch suffers it with his hand behind your shoulders, but eventually it's too much, his hand is sliding under your babydoll's fabric to grab at the small of your back indulgently. His pinky finger flirts with the band of your 'shorts'. 

"What are you doing?" you whisper through a laugh. 

"I'm embarrassed. I'm not even in costume." 

"Yeah?" 

"Maybe we should just go home." 

Your laughter is a shriek as he pulls you into his side. He's kidding, he'll stay at your party tonight for as long as you want to stay like a fish out of water, but he can't be expected to not flirt with you. 

"You're getting antsy, Hotchner," you say, like it's the best thing a man can be. 

"This is ridiculous." 

"I picked it out with you in mind." You lift your chin, words spoken warmly into the shell of his ear. "It might look like underwear to you, but there's something underneath it that says otherwise. So play nice and I'll give you a behind the scenes of how I chose my costume." 

"I'm always nice," he says. 

"No," you say, your smile mock-demure, your hand on his abdomen, just a little too low, "you're not. That's why…" You turn on the spot to your bag resting on the table and pull out a pair of red-horns on a headband. "I got you these. But once you put them on you have to keep them on." 

"Is that the rule for this?" he asks, tugging on your babydoll. 

You only hum. Hotch loses his mind one song at a time until you let him take you home, devil horns intact.  

[i-drop-level-one-loot]

~Yanderes For Everyone~

Here's some yandere prompts and imagines, both romantic and platonic, for those who want some non sexual yandere adoration ❤️ Happy Pride!

Romantic/Asexual Scenarios:

M!Yandere x M!Reader

Yandere!Best Friend who couldn't figure out at first why it hurt so badly when you had friends other than him until a classmate attempted to ask you out

Yandere!Best Friend really just wants the two of you to continue playing games together, and live together, and adopt a couple of dogs together, and grow old together.. y'know, like how best friends do

Yandere!Best Friend becomes a complete menace when he learns what asexuality is, and that one can be both gay and ace

Yandere!Best Friend who is determined to prove that you don't need anyone else but him, even if it means cutting you off from the outside world

Yandere!Best Friend's method of "seduction" is stealthily turning off your phone's notifications while you're hanging out and tricking you into staying over longer than you intended

"You can't leave yet! I forgot to show you this new game I bought; it has couch co-op, and I just put pizza bites in the oven!"

Fem!Yandere x Fem!Reader

Yandere!Nun who enjoys her days at the convent, tending to flowers and taking care of those in need. She doesn't care so much about her vows to God, but enjoys a life free from the societal expectations she was gifted from birth as a woman.

Yandere!Nun is stunned when she sees you for the very first time. It was like witnessing an angel descend upon the earth, or experiencing a divine prophetic dream

Yandere!Nun loves being near her own personal angel, who's voice brings a joy she's never known before

Yandere!Nun is crushed when she learns that this isn't a final home for you like it is for her, and is instead merely a way for you to receive an education before your inevitable debut into society

Yandere!Nun who becomes determined to keep you with her, forever tending to the garden and feeding the poor, and decides that she will do whatever it takes to keep you by her side...

"Really, aren't you safer here? I mean, under God's protection, we can be happy! ..together.."

Yandere!Succubus x GN!Reader

Yandere!Succubus who's never enjoyed sex, not even once in the past thousand years she's been alive

Yandere!Succubus feels she must "grin and bear it", putting on a fake smile and bracing herself for the worse when she is once again summoned to the human world

Only to be floored by you, who summoned her from a spell in an ominous old book you found in the attic, not knowing that she was a succubus

Yandere!Succubus can feel herself falling for you every time she is summoned for some mundane task that doesn't involve her body, whether it be helping you finish a work assignment last minute or assisting with household chores

Yandere!Succubus refuses to answer the summoning rituals of lonely humans, instead spending all her time with you, even when you don't call for her

Yandere!Succubus knows that when it's your time, you will inevitably be punished, and has already made plans for your "departure" from this world

It'll be like you never died, you'll blink and be 25 again, baking cookies with her in your kitchen while she tells you about her day, laughing as she flirts with you and never questioning why Monday never seems to arrive

Yandere!Merman x GN!Reader

Yandere!Merman who meets you in a very silly and cliche way: being rescued after getting tangled up in garbage

Yandere!Merman acts distraught when you refuse to accept any gifts from him, trying to convince him that you don't need to be rewarded for doing the right thing

Yandere!Merman finds himself enamored with you, wanting to extend your visit longer, going as far as to grab your ankle when you try to leave

He begins running out of reasons to keep you, but you promise you'll be back again in the morning, and boy does he feel like crying when you stay true to your word and return to him

Yandere!Merman feels a little guilty about deceiving you, but when he learns that you're only there on "vacation" and that you'll be going "back to work" soon, he had to do something!

Yandere!Merman who finally gets you to accept a gift, a little glass vial that he claims is a traditional drink his people enjoy

He apologizes over and over again when the "drink" causes you to transform, robbing you of your legs. Wiping your tears away and crying himself, claiming that he had no idea it would have that affect on a human! But that he's ready to take responsibility, and take care of you for the rest of your new life under the water..

Yandere!Spirit x GN!Reader

Yandere!Spirit who's been dead for so long that they've forgotten what it was like to be human

Their body has warped as they lost memories of their previous life, elongating and discoloring, their skin a hollow grey and their body thin and stretched

Yandere!Spirit is approached one day by you, a human who not only can see them, but isn't afraid of them

Yandere!Spirit had forgotten what warmth was, but being in your presence was almost like having a heartbeat again

Yandere!Spirit becomes addicted to you, begging to stay by your side and continue basking in the sunlight of your smile, feeling that this is what it must have felt like to be alive

"Don't ask me to stay home.. does it really bother you that people think you're talking to yourself? I just.. please don't leave me again.."

Aroace/Platonic Scenarios:

Yandere!Catboy x GN!Reader

Yandere!Catboy who breaks into your house one day, and decides that your home is now his home as well

Yandere!Catboy demands attention and affection when he wants it.. and it usually just happens to be when you're busy

Yandere!Catboy has no sense of personal space, and didn't care if you're on the phone with your mother, he needs to use your lap as a pillow right. now.

Yandere!Catboy is a pain in the ass, treating you like a prince's servant, but he adores you in his own, possessive way

"Why do you smell like another cat?! I don't care if that skank was an aCtUaL cAt, those hands should only be rubbing these ears! Now get to it!"

Yandere!Big Sister x GN!Reader

Yandere!Big Sister who isn't actually related to you, but took pity on you and offered you a ride one night when you were walking home in the rain

Yandere!Big Sister sees herself in you, despite the gender difference, believing you to be as lonely as she is

Yandere!Big Sister begins keeping an eye out for you on her trips around town, doing her best to gain your trust slowly enough where she wouldn't scare you off

Yandere!Big Sister invites herself over to your apartment the moment she thinks you might not hate her, bringing gifts of junk food and beer

Yandere!Big Sister is so convinced that you are like her, that she "protects" you from your "obviously shitty" family, blocking their numbers on your phone while you're passed out, isolating you from the people that would hurt you

"That ass forgot your birthday?! I'm so sorry, kiddo.. If it makes you feel any better.. I already picked up a cake on my way over here~"

Yandere!Cult x Deity!Reader

Yandere!Cult Members who passionately worship you with a fervor that makes you worried for their mental stability

Resurrected from obsoletion, you were obviously overwhelmed with joy, being a small, nearly forgotten deity.. but when you witnessed your congregation, you realized they weren't regular worshippers

Yandere!Cult Members exist in a state of ecstasy for you, giving up their lives to join the cult they made in your name

Yandere!Cult Members who take what little text survived from your past followers, and turned it into a doctrine so absolute, that any deviation has them on their knees begging for forgiveness

And when you make yourself known, trying to calm the pitiful humans, share some comfort with them that you are not a god that enjoys this kind of devotion, the Yandere!Cult is in a state of euphoria, unable to comprehend your words..

"You appear! For us! We are not worthy of your presence, and yet you are such a kind and loving god that you appear.. for us!! No sacrifice is too great for one such as yourself!!"

Yandere!Toy Maker x GN!Reader

Yandere!Toy Maker who never liked humans; they talk too much, they smell funny, they grow old, and worse of all, they die

Yandere!Toy Maker changes his tune when he first meets you

Yandere!Toy Maker is fascinated by you, because unlike most humans, you don't annoy him; you're like a wind up dolly, only saying what he wants to hear

Yandere!Toy Maker uses you as his inspiration, making toys and dolls of all types that look like you, often gifting you adult sized clothes that are replicas of the outfits he makes for the little yous

Yandere!Toy Maker seriously considers stuffing your body, turning you into a toy that will never grow old; never leave him

But he could never.. even if he put a drawstring on your back, it wouldn't be the same.. he still doesn't have enough recordings of you talking to replace your presence..

✨Bonus✨

Yandere!Bed x GN!Reader

The mattress was on sale at the cheap little store you were visiting for the first time. And honestly, the deal was too good to pass up. When was the last time you got a new bed? Didn't you deserve to wake up not in pain?

So you brought it home.

It was a pain in the ass, but you got it into your apartment by yourself and set it up.

It. Was. Heaven.

You couldn't remember the last time you fell asleep so quickly, but it felt like you blacked out the second you laid down. In fact, it was so comfortable, you slept through all three of your alarms.

Shit.

But even being late to work and getting yelled at by your boss didn't faze you. The entire day it was like you were walking on clouds; you were so well rested that all you could think about was going home to your new bed: excited to sleep again.

And for the first couple of weeks, your coworkers didn't say anything. But they began worrying about you, suspecting that you might be depressed or something. All you talked about was your bed; how you never slept so well in your life, how laying down was like falling straight into the dream world... But you never looked worse.

Despite your claims that you were sleeping like a corpse, you were beginning to look like the dead. The bags under your eyes were hollow and heavy, your skin was paling, and your movements were slow and weak.

However, it didn't matter what they said.

That mattress was the single best purchase you've ever made in your whole entire life.

Lying down was like being enveloped in the embrace of a parent.

It didn't bother you when your boss fired you in front of your concerned fellow employees..

It just meant that you would have more time to sleep.

[starnana7]

every time I remember that the hit show supernatural made God, the literal God from the Bible, canonically bisexual but couldn’t do the same with a random guy who hunts monsters it actually makes me feel physically ill.. like blasphemy is okay but we draw the line at making the main character a little bit queer because it would “upset the heterosexuals men”? okay ig… and it’s so funny to me that they tried SO bad to make dean like really really straight and macho and a manly womanizer (I mean dude has literal porn brain and is obsessed with cars and is a film nerd) And still is the number 1 bissexual boy.. I mean no one that into cowboys is 100% straight 🙄 and if they actually wanted him to be that much of a cishet guy WHY would they make him have a codependent homosexual friendship with his best friend for more than a decade ?? and we have so much subtext to corroborates it that it’s actually insane.

and it’s also rlly funny to me that sam would be the most obvious choice for a queer storyline. like i’m not sure this is true but i heard somewhere that he actually was supposed to like be lgbt and that it’s implied in the show he’s pan bc he basically have sex w/ everyone and doesn’t care (like monsters and stuff). i wholeheartedly disagree bc sure he hited a demon and a werewolf and a kitsune and God knows what more But it still were just women and for me he’s still just straight 💀 we do have gabriel however and i would say that’s a valid argument but i don’t actually like them together because of the whole torturing-sam-every-tuesday-over-and-over-again but it’s still a good take ig. again this is just my opinion But anyways doesn’t matter my point Is that sam always felt like a freak and wanted to be normal and like was more open minded and “less-macho-toxic-behavior” than dean. he was a theater kid and talked about his feelings and all. STILL THO dean went and become The bissexual icon (Not Sam, Dean!!). and the fact that he was more manly actually only emphasized to his sexuality (and him being closeted) and sam being the straight one, and bare with me here. as sam winchester once wisely said “well you are kind of butch they probably think you're compinsating.” (to dean asking why people always assumed they were gay) and like this is so true, sam always felt comfortable in himself and like his nerdier and less cool strong man personality. But dean, oh, dean, no, no, no. and it could all be linked to john. we know how much dean wanted to gain his father approval and respect, all he ever wanted was for john to be proud of him. so he’d listen to the same music as john, same clothes… and so on. but when we really see a glance of him, we realize he’s actually much more “““girly””” (sorry for the term i lacked a better one) than he shows, Especially when compared to sam—who’s supposed to be the more girly one (again sorry for the term lol) or whatever. dean canonically likes taylor swift, chick flick films, actually liked when a woman made him wear underwear, the bailarinas shoe were “speaking to him” in that one ep of cursed objects, and so on. and every time he makes fun of sam for doing something not-manly-enough (like drinking lemon water or drinking from tiny coups) he eventually goes and do the same thing 😭 and i’m 100% sure that the writers just thought “haha funny scene this really straight deadly man does something not so convencional/more feminine(?) haha comedy relief time!!” but it actually just made him have a whole perfect queer background developed in the series. specially with the fact that He Does Overcompensate. why is he always flirting with women, why is he so butch and scary, always talking about straight sex and so on? because he’s really just deep in the closet. and it makes so much sense with john being his father, with him having to hunt two lesbians nuns in his 17 bday, always having to be strong and macho and cool and perfect—and therefore straight. even without cas, dean really does immaculate the bissexual experience and i’m so sorry but this is just true.

and now pointing to the subtext that i mentioned in the first paragraph (lol i can’t believe i’m making a whole rant as to why dean winchester is a confirmed bisexual), that whole confession to that priest where he says he wants experience new feelings, new people, FOR THE FIRST TIME. that always that the show mentioned a gay couple it ALWAYS focused on dean—not sam, DEAN. the gay hunters, the gay couple on the bar that the cupid “made”, the two cosplayers partners… the fact that every time that dean liked something it was borderline fangirl (gay) obsessive (the dr. sexy episode, that wrestler fighter). he Had a gay thing—and was all flustered about it. he flirted with a guy throughout charlie. THE MALE SIREN. the male siren like after that ep i was 100% convinced that man was not straight. he had a hot demon sumer with crowley?!!! and it’s so funny to me that not one of these things involves castiel, so if they really wanted to make dean be that straight why would they do that?? and only to dean, not even once to sam. Like. and not to mention all the homoeretic tension with benny??? sam never had a male best friend like that.. all of that and i didn’t even entered on destiel. Because this then really just confirms that he is Not straight. even if he wasn’t In Love with cas, they had something going on and the fact that if cas was a girl it would 100% be canon and filmed and Everyone would ship—and I really mean everyone—it just makes me go fucking insane. they could’ve had it all. the fanfic episodes, the parallels between dean and cas and “real couples”, ruby and cas duality and the fact that sam indeed had a relationship w/ her. Anyway i’m a # bi dean truth believer and i know this bc same boy # happy pride month to my fav bissexual boy in the whole world

also to anyone that says that “destiel” was unrequited love yes it kinda of was but only bc dean was so deep in the closet, he did love cas. he was indeed a bissexual man. i’ll die on that hill.

[pseudophan]

U can tell Dan feels hot in the nun costume because he came out there instantly flirting with Phil with a confidence we only see through sister daniel and im here for it

i instinctively muted the stream when that happened like i panicked

[alacetor-the-duckies-deer]

I have this headcanon for Alastor's back story where he's trans, and just as himself, as he is in the show, even as a kid. So his parents sent him of to a convent, were upon ww1 breaking out in his late teens, he ran away, forged a new identity as a man, got found out once he was already over seas, blackmailed a superior into letting him stay on, where he was introduced to radio communication, and the rest is history.

But all that to say, I like to then imagine, whenever anyone tells him something mildly outlandish, but definitely true, he likes to respond with "Yes, Vox, and I took a vow of celibacy when I was a catholic nun"

To which of course people think, "so you don't belive me? I mean but aren't you a virgin? Are you not????"

And of course, this never gets asked because who's gonna ask The Radio Demom about his Sexy Life.

Angel Dust that's who.

I imagine him doing an interview on Al's Show, just a mix of publicity for them both, hanging out because they're friends, and it's all a big middle finger to the Vee's.

Maybe it's pride month and so they were planning some talk about that, Alastor joking about a possible comming out, even though its plenty well know Alastor is some where on the ace spectrum to anyone with eyes.

They get on the topic somehow, Angel says something like, "I never laid myself across the bar like that! Second set of arms at most! Never my butt, never mind my legs! not after the first time!"

"Mh-hm. You got desperate in your flirting, and I took a vow of celibacy, when I was a nun. We all do silly things, Angel."

"Well, maybe I've laid out on the pool table, but it makes for good pictures. Anyway, I been meaning to ask you about that."

"About being a nun?

"No," angel laughs, plays it off, thinking he's joking. "About your being ace and all. No pressure, but like, you really never even wanted to try?"

"No, I find it quite repulsive. The idea even,"

"You don't watch nothin'? Read nothing either?"

"Ha! No! The filthy little novel Sister Amillia sneaked in the once was quite enough- are you okay Angel?"

Angel had infact just chocked on his latte. "Wait? Sister Amillia? Sneaked in? To where!?"

"The convent, Angel. I was 14, she was 16. Wonderful woman, taught me how to handle a knife, she left shortly after the novel was discovered- Sister Tabitha was as squeaky a little rat as she looked- never saw Amillia again, though."

"Wait, sorry. You were a nun, like, actually? What the fuck?"

One of the little lights that says they have a caller lit up, but Alastor ignore it for now. "Yes, Angel, do keep up."

"Wait, so like that nun costume you wear on halloween?" Angel blows right past the fact Alastor just came out as trans, because yeah. Didnt see it comming but, the trains already wizzing by, and more importantly- "Is that like your actual nun costume?"

"Ha! No, I flung that horrid thing in a garbage can on my way to the enlistment office when I was 17."

"Enlistment?" Angels begining to see what Alastor meant when he said this episode was going to be a unique experience for his listeners at the start of the braodcast. "Like world War 1, right? You were alive for that..."

"Yes, I figured with all the confusion one little girl-"

Angel's phone goes off. It's Val. Angel hits ignore.

"Fuck off Val, I'm off today" Angel says into his mic.

But they get interrupted again and again until Angel turns his phone off.

At which point all twelve of the little light that indicate the show had callers on the line, light up.

"Ah fuck. What does he want that bad? Can you just answer it real quick?"

Alastor flips a switch and answers.

"The fuck you want Val-"

"I'm not calling for you!" It's Vox on the other end, his voice booming from the speaker "Alastor! Are you fucking serious? You were a fucking nun?"

"Yes, Vox." He says with faux patience. "My goodness, did you all stuff your ears with cotton this morn-"

"So you DID actually take a vow of Celibacy? The other day at the meeting during my presentation, you said "that'll work, Vox, sure- and I took a vow-"

"Yes. I was there."

"And!?!"

"Celibacy, among other things. If this is a dig at my sexuality than-"

"Nah fuck that, hang on I'm doing math! Okay you were born in 1901, makes you 17 in 1918, yeah that tracks. Okay so 2024 make you 123, minus the 17 years to be conservative, thats 106 yeah?"

"I was 15 when I took that vow, and under threat of being institutionalized, if that's what you're getting at-"

"108! Ha! Oh my God! 108 years! That's gotta be a record!"

"What are you getting at Vox?"

"You took a vow!" Vox screams through his laughter. "All the pomp and circumstance! On consecrated ground! before god!? To abstain from sex! And even here in hell, were sin and blasphemy are rampant and free-"

"Careful Vox, your televangelist is showing-"

"Who gives a fuck!? You're the one whos upheld their vow to God for over a century like some devout saint!"

Angel and Alastor sit there staring at eachother while Vox laughs his head off around them

"Saint Alastor the Abstinent! The pantron Saint of Virgi-"

Alastor hangs up. "Well that was informative!" Alastor chirps "Well, What's to be done about this? Hm, Angel?"

And for some reason, an unholy one, surely, the first thing out of Angel's mouth is "I could suck you dick? If that- would count?"

And it's a testament to how far they've come as friends, or pooooossbily Alastor's nerves, or maybe his sheer unwavering bravado, but Alastor only bursts out laughing, shaking his head as he get out between laughter "I don't- have one!"

And then they're both laughing and laughing and laughing, and eventually they calm down, and Alastor gets a thoughtful look. "Though, Vox did have one good point."

"Oh?"

"That does have to be a recorded, at least among sinners. Why! I very well might have redeemed myself! We should certainly bring this up with Sera at the next conference!"

And then their off both laughing again, imaging Serra's face when she realises she's going to have to look into yet more research onto the workings of redemption from Heaven's end.

[paint-the-walls-white]

Classic Slasher

Pairing: Ghostface (Danny Johnson) x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an attempt to get away from the stress of life, you visit your families cabin. Even when there aren't any people around for miles, you can't shake the feeling of being watched.

Warnings: KnifePlay! MaskStaysOn! Chase! NonCon to Con! Degradation! Praise! From the Back! Bondage! Anal!

As you dropped your luggage by the door, you sighed, excited to finally have a relaxing vacation. Work had been extra stressful and your parents had given you the okay to stay at their lodge in the mountains. It was a nice cool October day, just a few hours before dusk, so you decided to start your vacation with a nice soak in the hot tub on the back deck.

After putting away your clothes in the bedroom, you changed into your bikini and slid into the nice hot water, sighing as it soaked into your skin. The chilled air offered a nice contrast to the boiling water. After a few minutes, you checked your phone and notified your parents you had just gotten to the lodge, but the message wouldn't be delivered. No mobile service.

'I'll just tell her later..'

Just as you placed the cell phone back on the edge of the hot tub, the landline inside started to ring. You decided it was time to get out of the jacuzzi and went to answer the phone but it stopped ringing before you could pick it up. An eerie feeling began to develop in your stomach but you shook it off and went to change.

A few hours later, the sun had just set for the evening and you had made dinner, settling on the couch in some pajamas to watch a movie; the phone started to ring again.

"Hello?"

'Hello? Who is this?'

"I think you have the wrong number sir,"

You listened closely on the line, hearing the soft sound of breathing. That eerie feeling came back.

"Hello? Sir?"

The repetitive beep from the speaker clued you in that the person on the other line must have hung up the phone. Unsettled, you put the phone back on the stand and walked over to the couch, plopping down with a bowl of popcorn in your lap.

"Guess it was the wrong number.."

Scrolling through the options on Max, you settled on The Nun II as you hadn't seen it yet. You were intently watching the movie when you suddenly got that eerie feeling of being watched. Pausing the movie, you walked up to the sliding glass door, locking it and closing the blinds. Then you made your way around the house, locking the rest of the windows and doors until you felt a bit better and sat back down to finish the movie.

You jumped at the sound of the phone ringing next to you. It was the same number from before. Swallowing that anxious lump in your throat, you answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi," It sounded like the same man from before, which caused a chill to run down your spine.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Just wanted to talk to someone. You're the only person I've been able to contact out here."

That made you uneasy but you relented, "Ok.. Why are you calling? What's your name..?"

He chuckled, "Why don't you tell me your name first beautiful."

You couldn't help but blush at his blatant flirting, pausing the movie to turn your attention to him, "Why do you wanna know my name?"

"I wanna know who I'm looking at."

Your heart sank into your stomach,

"What did you say?" Your heart rate picks up and your breathing becomes shallow. Time seemed to stop. He said something but you asked him to repeat himself again,

"I said I wanna know who I'm talking to,"

"Oh.. I thought you said.. Never mind.. Sorry I'm a little skittish, I've been watching too many scary movies I guess.."

Your heart rate calmed down a little bit, but you could feel your skin pricking up with goosebumps. You rubbed at your thigh to calm down, causing the bumps to fade. Biting at your nails, your eyes flicked around the room anxiously.

"Oh yea? Do you like scary movies?"

"Mhm.. My family watches them religiously for Halloween, we have a whole spreadsheet of what to watch every year."

You calmed down a bit and began talking to the man more calmly. After talking for a few minutes, raving about scary movies and which are your favorites, the man speaks up again,

"You know you never told me your name.."

"Why? I kind of like the mystery,"

He chuckled lightly again, "Well, then do you have a boyfriend?"

"No.. Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?"

"Maybe.. Or maybe I just wanted to know if you’re really up here all by yourself."

That feeling crept into your stomach again. Dread makes its way into your bones as time seems to stop. You never told him where you were.

"How did you.. How do you know I'm here alone..?"

"You told me, remember?"

"No, I did not. Are you watching me?"

You frantically got up to peek out the windows, searching for anyone who could be lurking around the house, but all you could see was the impossibly dark woods.

"No point in looking for me Doll, you're not even gonna see me coming."

"This isn't funny, Psycho! I'm hanging up!"

You threw the phone back on the stand and ran up stairs to grab your dads shotgun. That's when the landline in that room rang again. You saw it was his number again. You picked up, preparing to scream at him.

"If you hang up on me again, I'll gut you like a fucking fish!"

Your breathing picked up as you held the phone to your ear. This wasn’t happening. You warily made your way down stairs, peeking around every corner until you made it to the living room again.

"What do you want?"

"I wanna play a little game. You answer three little questions about horror, and I'll let you live, get one wrong and I'll rearrange your guts."

You swallowed, tears flooding in your eyes as you sat on the couch, gun in hand and the phone pressed to your ear.

"Ok.."

"Very good. Question one, this one is easy. What is the name of the killer that haunts peoples dreams?"

You flicked your eyes around the room, "Freddy Krueger,"

"Very good. See? Isn't this fun? Question two: Who is the killer in Friday the 13th?"

Really? This was so easy, "Mrs. Vorhees. Jason didn't appear until the later movies."

He chuckled through the phone, "Very good, Now for the third question,"

You sucked in a breath. If it was anything like the first two, this would be easy.

"What room am I in right now?"

Your heart dropped. No, He couldn't have gotten inside. You had locked everything up earlier-

"Tick tock. What room am I in, Doll?"

"Please.. Please just leave me alone!"

"That wasn't the fucking question. If you don't answer in the next ten seconds I'm gonna fucking kill you. Ten. Nine. Eight..."

"I-I don't know- The Basement!"

"Four.. Hah... Good guess."

You breathed a sigh of relief, until the power went out.

"But that's the wrong answer."

Your stomach sunk as the phone line went dead. So much for a vacation. You were going to be killed and no one would know for far too long. No. You weren't going to sit back and be killed. You were going to go down kicking and screaming.

You shucked a bullet into the chamber, eyes adjusting to the darkness, ear listening closely. The air was eerily still and it was impossibly dark. Standing, you walked down the hall to the basement door. He said he wasn't in there, and he seemed like the kind of person that wouldn't lie about that.

As you crept down the stairs, you were careful to avoid any creaky spots, your wooly socks insulated the sound of your footsteps. When you reached the bottom of the stairs, that's when you heard it. The heavy sound of a shoe pressing down on wood.

He was right above you.

You thankfully had grabbed your phone and stuffed it in your pocket before moving, if you could get out through the basement door then you could make a run for it and call for help.

And right when hope was just in your grasp you heard the phone in your pocket start to ring. You hadn’t had service this whole fucking time and now it decides to start working? Seriously? You fumbled to decline the call, dropping the gun to the floor. If he didn't know where you were before, he definitely did now.

You ran, making a break from the door across the basement as you heard his hurried steps down the stairs. You tried to unlock it with shaky hands, getting to the very last lock before you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore.

You turned, completely horrified as a man stood at a hulking 6'4", broad shoulders concealed by a black cloak and a ghost mask with no emotion behind it. He brandished an eight inch hunting knife in one hand and in the other a phone in his hand. He dialed a number and your cell phone started to ring. You answered the phone and pressed it to your ear:

"Boo"

You quickly undid the lock and swung the door open but he slammed the door closed, caging you against it with a knife pressed to your throat.

"Don't fucking move or I'll slice your throat."

"O-Ok.." Your back was pressed firmly against his broad chest. Despite the fact he literally had a knife to your throat, your body flushed at the contact. A heat pooled in your stomach because of the warmth he emitted against you.

"That's a good girl.. Aww you were so close huh? Ain't that too bad.. You're one of the smarter ones I've had.. I love that final girl mentality.."

You let out a shaky breath as he pressed harder against you, your chest now flushed against the door. The cold wood caused your nipples to harden and you whimpered underneath him under the guise of fear.

"Please.. I'll do anything, just please don't kill me.."

He chuckled against the side of your face, his warm breath creeping from the black mesh of his mask.

"How cliche.. I thought you were better than that sweet heart. But fine. Humor me, beg for your life.."

He eased up his knife, gently grazing it against your skin. Chills followed the cool steel of the blade as he ran it over you. The leather of his glove squeaked as he moved to tightly grip your face. 

"Please.. Please don't, Please.."

"Ghostface." He barked out the title. You whimpered at the harsh tone in his voice.

"Please Ghostface.. Please don't kill me.."

As much as it was embarrassing, this was extremely arousing. Something about the way he had your life in his grasp, demanding you beg, it was just so degrading; but really fucking hot.

You whined as arousal started drooling from your cunt, soaking your underwear. He traced the knife over your shoulder, running it under the strap of your tank-top before pulling it taunt.

"How would you feel if I just fucking shredded your clothes.. Hmm? Not like you could do anything to fight it anyways.. You know what? On the couch. Now."

Ghostface gestured at the couch in the center of the basement. He eased off of you, allowing you room to walk. As much as you wanted to run, some twisted part of your mind wanted to see where this was going.

"Thats a good girl.. Sit."

Sitting on the couch, you pressed your legs tightly together in an attempt to ease the building ache in your abdomen. He crouched to meet your eye level, gently placing the tip of his knife on your chin to raise your face, forcing you to meet the gaze of his mask.

He tutted at her shamefully, "What am I going to do to you..? This is gonna be real fun.." It was completely dark in the house, but the moonlight shone just enough through the basement window that you were sure he could see the flushed expression across your face. He stood, flipping his knife in his hand.

"Don't fucking move."

Ghostface got to work, quickly shredding your shirt down the middle. You gasped as he nicked your skin, flinching at the contact. He was quick to slice again, growling, "I said not to fucking move. Do you want me to slit your throat?"

You quickly shook your head. You were so light headed and flustered. He groaned at the sight of your bare breasts.

"Fuck.. Aren't you a beauty.." You blushed under his eyes and moved to cover your chest with you arms,

"Don't say that.. It's embarrassing." He barked out a laugh, ripping your arms away from your chest and pinning them on the back of the couch with one hand, his knife at your throat once again. His warm breath brushed across your face as you looked into the black mess of his mask. There were no features visible behind it, but that made it all the more exciting.

"I will do and say whatever the fuck I want. I thought I told you not to fucking move?"

The fear in your eyes quickly faded as he released your arms to shrug off his cloak, shucking off his belt to bind your hands. You eyed his crotch for a split second before meeting his gaze once again.

"You're such a fuckin' whore you know that? Letting me do this to you. Let's get these fucking things off."

He flipped you over so your chest pressed against the back of the couch and your knees dug into the leather seat. He sliced at your shorts, nicking your ass and thigh before tossing them aside. You were left completely bare for him, bowing your head in shame as slick dripped down your leg.

"Fuck.. I knew this pussy would be so fucking beautiful.." His gloved hand prodded at your folds, halting almost as soon as he made contact.

"And... Wet..? Wait, are you getting off on this?"

You buried your face into the couch, mumbling a yes into your arm as you clenched around nothing. Your face flushed a bright red, creeping down your neck and to your ears.

"Fuck..." He pulled away from you, running his hand over his mask in frustration. You peaked over your shoulder, completely embarrassed.

"Are.. Are you disappointed..?"

"A little! I didn't think you'd be this fucking easy. You really are a whore aren't you?"

You hid your face again, yelping when he smacked your ass firmly, pulling your head back by your hair to look at him.

"I asked you a fucking question. Answer it."

"Y-Yes.." He released your scalp, quick to return his gloved fingers to your sloppy folds. You whined as he quickly sunk two fingers in. He slowly pressed in and out, groaning at the sight of your slick coating his glove.

"Look at you.. You're so fucking ready for me, aren't you? No fucking resistance.."

Your eyes widened as you heard the sound of his pants unzipping, whining at the loss of stimulation until he snickered, slapping your pussy. You let out a yelp as he smacked your clit, your slick sliding down your legs.

Ghostface pressed the head of his cock against your sloppy folds, groaning at the feeling of your wet cunt. He slid in between them, gliding the length of his thick cock through your labia at a painfully slow place. He pulled your hips to meet his as he towered over you.

"Beg for it like you begged for your fucking life. Say it, say you want this fat fucking cock inside you."

You whimpered as he glided along your clit, 'Please... Please Ghostface.. Please fuck me.." Your cheeks were burning a bright red at this point, far too aroused to care that this man had broken in and threatened your life after stalking you for who knows how long.

"Good fucking girl...Fuck you're so wet for me.."

Your eyes widened as he started stuffing himself in your pushing, a breathy moan escaping your lungs as he pressed against your cervix with ease.

He groaned at the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him, pulsing along his length. You whined at the stretch, pushing your hips back to meet his. He slid his hands up your scalp and pulled your head back to look down at you.

"You're gonna take this fucking cock like the good whore you are.. And then maybe.. Just maybe, I'll let you live.."

Eyes clouded with desire, trembling with need, you nodded. He groaned, pulling out until just the tip was left before thrusting into the hilt, forcing you to press harder into the couch. You moaned loudly at the contact as he continued to pound you sloppy cunt.

"That's a good fuckin girl.. Taking this cock.. So fucking well... Oh fu-uck.."

"Please.. No more.. S' too much.." You whimpered as the knife was pressed to your throat again. Tears picked your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

"I'll stop when I'm fucking done Bitch." He groaned, drilling into you at a punishing pace, grinning maniacally behind the mask as he began carving his initials into the flesh of your ass. You hissed at the pain but just rested your head on the couch to look back at him.

All you could do was whimper as your slick collected between your thighs, His cock collecting a ring of your arousal at the base. Your moans became desperate as you started to tighten around him. You threw your head back, arching into him as you came around his cock.

"Fuck.. Are you fucking cumming right now? Look at you.. Fuck.. You're so fucking tight.."

As you came on his cock, he continued his brutal pace, overstimulating your sensitive walls.

"Please.. Too much..." He groaned, pulling fully out of you. You whined at the loss but then gasped as he prodded at the tight ring of muscles just above where he was. "N-No-!"

Ghostface sliced at your back, "You don't get to fucking tell me No. You'll take it... Don't worry Doll.. I'm not a monster, I'll prep you first.."

You gasped at the feel of cool metal prodding at your slopping folds, sinking the handle of his knife into your cunt. You squeaked as he pressed a finger into your ass, whining at the feeling of being full.

He pulled the handle of his knife from your cunt and pressed it against your ass, replacing his finger with the slick shaft. You moaned loudly at the intrusion, surprisingly sensitive.

"That's a good girl.. Fuck.."

Ghostface pulled the knife from your ass and lined up his heavy cock, slipping in the head, slowly pressing in until you took his whole length. He quickly started a brutal pace, fucking your ass with a punishing force.

"You fucking like this, don't you? You like when I fill your fucking holes like this?" He stuffed a finger in your pussy, quickly working his way up to three.

You could only mumble incoherent phrases as he fucked you stupid, a different coil winding tight in you abdomen.. It almost felt as if you were about to pee.. But there was no way.. That'd be so embarrassing-!

"No- No- I'm gonna- Please..." He groaned as warm liquid flooded from your cunt.

"Fuck.. did you just fucking squirt from this..? That's so fuckin hot.. Fuck I'm gonna cum.. Take it.. Take it!"

He pressed his cock as deep as he could into your ass, spilling his seed into your tight cavern. The wet sound of him pulling out made you blush as you slumped against the couch, completely spent.

He gently unwrapped the belt from around your wrists and stuffed his cock back into his pants.

"Clean yourself up. I'll be back tomorrow Doll."

You slowly slid off the couch, nodding slowly as you walked on shaky legs to the bathroom. You could feel his presence was gone by the time you turned on the water. You screamed as you looked at what he did to your ass.

D.J.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Do you think buddie was meant to go canon in S4, how do you think they would have done it?

I fully believe that buddie was intended to go canon in early s5 after eddie was shot. there was so much surrounding buck’s reaction to eddie being shot, eddie only focusing on making sure buck wasn’t also hurt, buck breaking down in front of chris, the discussion of the will…. they set up those building blocks to showcase that there was something deeper there with buck and eddie and then……. season 5 happened bc KR took over (FOX also had to do with the decision as well but…) but i think Tim was trying to intentionally write them into a corner but was moved to LS before he could ever get there himself.

I think s5 would have started out with eddie having the same realizations about not wanting to be with ana, and that it would lead to him reexamining his feelings for buck when buck would have been the one to comfort him through it. I think this version of s5 taylor would have noticed buck’s dedication to eddie and had a heary to heart with him about how he needs to be true to himself, and we would have gotten buck accepting his feelings (i also hc that in this timeline, buck knew he was bi already he just never felt the need to bring it up) and he and taylor would part ways as friends (taylor wouldn’t fuck everything up in this universe either) and buck would want ti confront his feelings, but before he got the chance to, eddie would leave the 118. buck would view this as eddie leaving him behind and not face the music. they would follow a similar path of canon s5 leading up to the big PTSD breakdown in 5x13 where buck would go to eddie’s when chris called. we would see buck immediately fall into place to take care of eddie (just like in canon) and it would lead to plenty of moments where they are just on the edge of something but never cross the line. they continue to dance around each other; buck saying he wants to give eddie some time to breath post-breakdown, eddie saying he doesn’t want buck to rush into a relationship after taylor (obviously not knowing the bereakup was bc of his feelings for eddie) and then finally in 5x18 while eddie and may are having their simultaneous arcs of what comes next, they would have a heart to heart where may would tell eddie he needs to stop waiting around and go after what makes him happy— this would lead to an emotional confession scene at hen and karen’s vow renewal where eddie would tell buck exactly how he feels, and buck, in lieu of a reply, kisses eddie and that would be how s5 ended, ushering buddie canon in s6 where we see them stumble, the whole wack-ass donor plotline would go away bc eddie would be there to talk some sense into buck, eddie would tell the buckley parents to fuck off, buck would still get struck by lightning and eddie would grapple with the idea of losing someone else (to give that shannon angst another stroke), we still get the poker date where it’s still a fluffy buddie moment, buck would continue recovering but he and eddie would grow distant bc buck would have similar post-lightning strike stress about not knowing what to feel, and eddie sould be repressing his emotions about it— lead to some angst with natalia flirting w buck, buck being flattered at someone not treating him like a living corpse, eddie getting pissed st this woman for thinking buck’s death is “cool” and thinking that buck might leave him for natalia, they have a mini (VERY mini) devorce era 2.0 that would get resolved during the freeway collapse and s6 would end with a bathena parallel of them getting secret married. then s7 would have been completely different bc we would have no racist man, no weird nun storyline, no doppelgänger bullshit, etc. We would get some secretly married buddie, possibly some more discussions of catholic guilt bc eddie doesn’t know if he’s ready to come out to his parents yet, eddie would come out to them and they would react badly, and s7 would end w ramon and helena starting a custody battle w buck and eddie over christopher.

yes i basically just rewrote the entirety of s5-7 but we deserved better than what we got from each of those seasons so 🤷🤷 if the creators won’t fo it themselves, someone has to.

anyway i hope this answered your question anon lmao <3 i kinda just sat down and started typing this out with no real clear direction but honestly… i might consider a series of fix-it fics to rewrite s5-7 in the future… but i make no promises

[geordikisser]

shaw + sam gaming headcannons ( + their listeners )

☆ a/n: suggestive language , yt references + silent hill 2 & tlou 2 rm spoilers ! ☆

nothing crazy going on here js silliness tbh,,, tryna cook some things up,,,,

— you’d think milo & asher would be shit talkers but their mates are bigger. they go big they refuse to go home.

— asher introduced david to torture star video content and they are currently trying to beat nun massacre together

— milo definitely was a newgrounds kid growing up

— sam, being very dumb with new gen games, enjoys minecraft! he and darlin’ have a mansion in their survival world and he cherishes it dearly. he enjoys the creative aspect of the game

— david cried while playing silent hill, specifically silent hill 2. the leaving ending, where mary is talking as the credit rolls. david literally had tears in his eyes.

— milo and sweetheart play overcooked together and that’s when you hear the most shit talking they have ever shit to each-other.

— while angel plays minecraft, david massages their scalp while humming softly to the game bg music

— one time while playing twd: s4, milo told asher to pick louis and when he picked violet, he used the excuse ‘it’s for the plot.’

— asher definitely fucks over the gang over in every multiplayer game they play

— the listeners all play plenty of fps and babe gets the most competitive while angel is in the corner using their sound board playing the “bwomp” sound effect whenever babe bitches.

“angel. play that shit again and i’m gonna actually kill you.” “what?.”

bwomp.

“THATWASN’TEVENMETHISTIME.”

— sweetheart and babe definitely flirt a little when they get competitive with each-other to piss each-other off and or to throw one of them off. this confuses milo and asher severely

— darlin’ & sam r so doom + isabelle coded ( ill let you decide who’s who. ) ( darlin’ is isabelle. )

— angel and darlin’ play fortnite horror games

— darlin’ cried when joel died in tlou due to joel reminding them of sam

— the listeners play 8ball or crazy 8 with each-other in their gc together

— when david and asher were in highschool, they would fuck around in mw3 zombies together and vent to each-other at 3am, those deep ass talks

— milo’s the friend who sings when it gets quiet.

xtra.

“i got you a present!” babe coos to sweetheart, throwing a blooper their way in mario kart. sweetheart literally jumps out of their seat as their face turns as red as possible out of rage. with babe landing first, they giggle. “got something for me to since we are in the gift giving season , no?” to sweetheart. this causing the ball of soon fistfuls of anger to turn around. “yeah, it’s attached to me.” david spits out his drink as milo snaps his neck to the two as he sees sweetheart cracking their knuckles. “oh they meant it like that ok.” he hums to himself as he turns back to his phone. “OH NO THEY MEANT IT LIKE THAT.” milo realizes internally jumping up.

[chronically-ghosted]

you got your claws in me honey, like a tiger in love

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

word count: 8K

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

summary: you arrive at your estranged uncle's door. what else is there to do but catch up over grilled cheese? well, if you have anything to say about it, you might end up doing a bit more.

warnings: dbf!dieter, grilled cheese as a way to guilt trip your dad's best friend/uncle into fucking you, drug use (weed), raising arizona that comes with its own warning, flirting with someone twice your age, no smut — that’s what part 2 is for, reminiscing, a cliffhanger? 👀

a/n: the original fic came out MONTHS before the mcu rumors, so either i have precognition, or the apocalypse is becoming predicable. happy valentine's day you filthy animals because nothing says romance like porking your dad's best friend

🤍AO3 Link

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From the voicemail of Mr. Paul Landeau, official Hollywood talent manager and agent to one Mr. Dieter Bravo . . .

Tuesday, 6:43PM

No, I’m not doing it. I’m not. 

There has to be something else out there. Look, I know Fire Monsters: A Cliff Beasts story didn’t do as well as we hoped, but Reddit says it could be a cult classic so why don’t you focus on making that happen, okay? Instead of giving me shit roles like this. I’m not doing it. 

– the sound of a door opening and the phone being shuffled – – a zipper rips –  – liquid pouring –

We fucking talked about this, man. I told you I needed something different, something new. Tiktok is just reels of me screaming and dying – it’s fucking bullshit – 

– more liquid –

I’m done playing the fucking bad guy. I’m not signing any more headless action figures for those little snot-nosed, little fuckers in line. I’m not asking to sign their moms’ tits, either – okay, maybe – but Jesus Christ, Paul, what you sent over is, like, the opposite of where I need to be. It’s for little teeny boppers with one or two B horror movies under their belt to finally break out into the mainstream – or where actors over forty go to cash in an easy paycheck. And yes, I fucking know we need something, but fuck – is this really all there is?

– liquid stops pouring – – zipper rips – – the sound of a toilet flushing –

Don’t fucking call me back, Paul, unless you’ve got something. Something real.

Tuesday, 8:23PM

OW! Motherf–

– a skillet clattering – 

Okay – fuck, that hurts – okay, Paul, what about this? It came to me in the bathroom. Remember Jack from the Christmas party at the studio’s place? So, he’s got those two Sundance films, right, but they’re in Spanish, so not appealing to an American audience. Nicki told me that he’s thinking about doing another project, one with a wider appeal, and I’m thinking I should totally give him a call. I think we could vibe. I really liked his stuff – reminded me of my old small town, fucking around with the neighbor kids, you know? Kinda hometown hero sort of thing. 

– sharp inhale then a cough – 

It’s not my usual thing, but I think we should give it a try. Gimme a call. 

Oh, do you know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich? Been craving one but I think I might burn down my house if I try again and UberEats doesn’t reach the good places further south. Oh, fuck, wait – 

Hey Google, how do you make a fucking excellent grilled cheese?

Tuesday, 9:21PM

No, fucking– 

Siri – how.do.you.treat.a.burn? 

Calling. . . Burger King . . .

No! Fuck!

Tuesday, 10:49PM

Paul-y! Baby! Paul-ito!

Don’t worry. I got an idea that’s going to make us a million dollars. 

A shop that makes only grilled cheese. But like – fancy grilled cheese. What do the kids fucking call it, ah – boogie – yeah, boogie grilled cheese. Like gouda and white cheddar, and butter churned by blind nuns or some shit. Tomato soups that have been blessed by the Dalai Lama. 

Big sign out front that says, Vegans Can Eat Shit. 

They’ll eat it up. 

Fuck yeah, they will. 

– silence for three minutes and sixteen seconds –

Fuck acting, man. Fuck this place. 

And fuck this fucking cheese that keeps burning – goddamn it!

Tuesday, 11:52PM

Paul, why don’t we hang out anymore?

When I got started, we hung out all the time, man. 

Hot dogs on the Santa Monica pier. Beer in the Pacific Ocean. 

You showed me all the cool spots that no one else in LA knew about. You got me my first bump and my first stripper. God, that was fucking wild, man, you remember? I was so nervous I thought I was going to throw up. Did I ever tell you that before? Coke probably didn’t help a kid from a small town in South Cali, but – fuck, it made me feel better. Like I could get my shit together if I really tried.  

What, are you too good for me now – is that it? Am I not good enough for you, huh? 

Look, I’ve got Raising Arizona on right now, so why don’t you come over with a six pack – 

Oh, shit, that’s right. You got a fucking family now. 

Not a good influence, ol’ Dee. 

Not a good –

 

Wednesday, 1:05AM

Fine, Paul. Fine. 

I’ll play Mr. Fantastic in the Fantastic Four reboot. 

Dieter’s thumb brushes the red End Call button and tosses his phone onto the kitchen island with a growl. He can feel himself coming down from the bump earlier – a thing he absolutely did not want to happen – and he shoves his palms into his eye sockets. 

There is more coke upstairs, but that would require him to walk through his very long hallways to get there. Very long, and dark, and empty hallways. 

He should have asked Maria to stay once she was done with the laundry. He would have done it right too – big bowl of popcorn, fully dressed, with a sign around his neck that said, I promise I’m not trying to sleep with you. 

He is becoming increasingly aware of how many erratic voicemails he just left for his agent, aware that behavior like that was libel to get him a sit down in Paul’s office with all the blinds and windows closed, Paul’s narrow face serious and using Concerned Emotion #5, as he asks, “do we need to go back to rehab, Dieter?”

We. 

There once was a “we”, now there was just “he” – in a house with seven bedrooms and a pool that could fit a sixteen wheeler in it. 

And TWO kitchens – why the fuck did he think he needed two kitchens – 

Well, he knew he didn’t need two, but it would have been cool to show them off to someone – If there was anyone to show them off to . . .

Fuck this downer mood.

Dieter snatches up his phone again, and the movement brings up his latest apps. UberEats is the second one. He taps in a few keywords, blatantly ignoring his latest call list. 

Goddamn Burger King . . . 

The front doorbell rings. 

Dieter frowns, pulling the screen closer under his big nose. Now, he knows he is high and he knows he should be wearing his glasses when reading but there’s no fucking way . . .

He goes out of the kitchen, the room still smelling of burnt cheese with the cast iron skillet in the sink and a black husk sticking to its bottom. He goes left, then right, his robe tightly wrapped around him as if he is some huffy housewife, then down a hall and across the marble entrance way – fuming – why is this house so goddamn huge – who thought this was a good idea?

And so he wrenches open the front door – to a girl, not holding a Burger King bag. No, she’s got a roller suitcase behind her, bright blue, and she and the case are dripping wet. Like, just sprayed with a hose kind of wet and her big bottom lip is trembling. Behind her, the sky pukes buckets of rain, groaning with thunder. 

Now, he likes his call girls (he always thought it was classier to call them that) a little more . . . vampy than this, but hell, he had been turned on by much less than this— than her with her big eyes, fat droplets rolling off her lashes, flushed cheeks – and oh, shit, her shirt is totally see-through – is that purple, he feels the back of his mouth flush with spit – wow, is this Paul’s way of apology because – 

“Uncle Dee?” 

And he’s mentally shoving himself back into his pants because no one in years has called him that and that was a very different time in place, when he was a completely different person and if this girl is the person he thinks it is, then – Jesus Christ, he’s bound and gagged straight for hell – 

He squeaks out your name and you smile, sort of grimace, at him and wave. 

“Yep, it’s me. Been awhile, right?” You finally give into the mortification of your stupid plan and you scrunch up your face, your hand wrapped around your elbow. “Look, I’m so sorry, this is too weird. I don’t have your number, but I panicked when my flight got canceled and my phone’s dead and you’re the only person I know in LA and –,” 

“No, no – you’re fine – sorry–,” Dieter blinks before stepping back and letting you through. You sigh in relief and yank your baby blue suitcase over the threshold as you walk in, dripping water everywhere. “Sorry, it’s been a weird night and for, like, two seconds, I thought . . . nevermind . . .”

I thought you were a fucking ghost.

You bite the corner of your lip, glancing at him, knowing it was probably unwise to piss off your one chance at not sleeping on the ground tonight — or if what you were about to say would piss him off in the first place. 

“Yeah, well, it’s been eleven years since we last saw you, Uncle Dee.” 

Early on in his career, he wanted to build up rep as not only an actor but a real tough guy, so he asked if he could do some stunts for an old cop show. For all his bravado, he ended up getting a real round-house kick to the face and it sent him reeling.

This feels a little bit like that.

“No way, it can’t have been that long. Besides, I know I left my number with your dad or your grandma before I left and —,” 

His throat closes up when very old guilt washes over him. It’s intensified when you give him an uncomfortable look.

“So your dad didn’t give you my number then.”

It’s not a question. You shake your head. You don’t tell him that your dad tried to call years ago and got a busy tone for the first few, and then a few years after that, was brusquely informed the line had been disconnected. 

He chews on his lip. 

You try to smile at him again but then another shiver takes hold of you and Dieter grimaces. “Shit, sorry, one second. I think this closet down here has towels.” 

He all but sprint-walks down one of the many halls branching off from the entrance, the ends of his robes flapping. You hear the creak of doors, several, as he digs around in the walls. 

“Why do I have so many fucking linens?” You hear him grumble and you smile to yourself. You feel like you need to wring your hair out but wouldn’t dare move from the spot where he left you.

After a thump and more grumbling, he comes back, rubbing the back of his head, but holding out a giant lime green towel. In the light, you can see the dark circles under his eyes when you take the towel and immediately go to stop your hair from dripping on the marble.

His brain is waffling, ping ponging, between his memories and what is standing right in front of him. This? This is the little girl, not his literal blood relative, but she’s Enrico’s kid – Enrico, a slugger and one hell of a outfielder since he was eight years old, whose mom made enchiladas like nobody else in the goddamn world – Enrico, whose house became like a second home, Ricky's family a better family than his own – this is the same girl who hoarded Skittles like a fiend, the same one who he took to the pool on the weekends in the summer, and the zoo during Thanksgiving break? This little girl – 

– is the same girl who is all legs under damp denim, eyes that could make Cleopatra fly into a jealous rage, and a fucking rockstar smile? 

And, holy shit, those tits –  

Dude, you cannot be checking her out. Dig deep and fight your fucking caveman brain. You’ve fucked up a lot in your life and you cannot do that right now. You cannot do that to Enrico. 

You cannot do that to her.

You notice him grimace as he squints into the light of the chandelier above you both. “So, uh, not that I mind, but, uh, what are you doing here? I mean –,” 

You laugh and it seems to echo in the empty house. “No, that’s a fair question. I was on a flight back from looking at colleges out east and my flight got grounded in LAX because of the storm. I absolutely don’t have enough money to stay in a hotel or rent a car and drive back home, so I needed a place to crash and call my sister to send me some money. And my stupid driver didn’t want to get flagged for harassing a celebrity, so he dropped me off at the corner, hence . . .”

You wave at yourself and inside his slippers, his toes curl, respectfully not looking at your damp legs and a definitely purple bra visible through your shirt. 

Your mouth suddenly capsizes. “Shit, is that okay, if I stay here for a night? I didn’t even think - I - I’m not . . . interrupting anything, am I?” 

Dieter chuckles, your expression undeniably cute, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his robe. 

“Nah. Not unless you call making the worst grilled cheese imaginable a party.” 

At that moment, your stomach chooses to make the most aggressive growl in your entire life and you flush deeper than the cold outside. 

“Apparently someone thinks that’s a good idea,” you chuckle weakly, horrified that your body is actively trying to sabotage a normal conversation. 

Did it matter that you had posters of him in your bedroom when you were thirteen? That you went to midnight releases of every one of his movies? 

No. Not at all. 

“I got some food, mostly leftovers.” He worries at his lip as he realizes the only thing by way of something green in his fridge is the jar of olives he got for martinis. Even then, he has a sneaking suspicion he replaced the olive juice with vodka, but the memory of that night is entirely butchered. “But, uh, I’m sure we can find something.”

You smile at him. “Actually, grilled cheese sounds great.” 

“Only if you do it.” He smiles, honestly, when you laugh. “What? Don’t laugh — I’m serious. I can’t make a sandwich to save my fucking life.” 

“Pretty sure I can manage two slices of bread and cheese.” 

His eyebrows jump as his lips press themselves together and you watch the thumb-sized bare spot on his beard twitch.

“Yeah, that’s what you think and then your goddamn kitchen is on fire.” 

“Lemme change, do some rocket surgery and brain science, and then I’ll attempt to crack this grilled cheese thing.” 

“Okay, but remember we do have Chinese leftovers and I can definitely crush a microwave. This way.” 

You follow him through the halls, his shoulders loosening underneath the off-green fuzz, and you try and not to stare at the immaculately beautiful walls and expansive, clean floors, so your eyes wander, and then you’re trying not to stare at the immaculately beautiful man in front of you. 

You push away the thought that this house looks nothing like you’d expect someone like Dieter to have, as he leads you to the kitchen — all black and chrome and steel, like what a Norwegian serial killer would have — and nods to a door towards the opposite wall. He’s digging around for the last slices of white bread when he says,

“Bathroom’s down there. I’ll get it all ready, but I’m leaving it up to you. Can’t afford to lose another pan.” 

Your eyes finally drift down from the bare walls, unsure if you should be offended that nothing of the family back home is here, or accept that there was just nothing personal anywhere. You smile gently at him and nod in thanks. 

He watches you go, that bright blue suitcase flashing as loud as a tornado siren, and he shakes his head. God, he needs a drink but drinking also makes him horny and he needs every mental facility available to him if he wis going to make it through this night with his sanity still intact. 

Had it really been eleven years? He always meant to call up Enrico and the old neighborhood gang. He probably forgot about that last fight anyway – even if Dieter hadn’t – even if it wasn’t more than a decade ago. Mama Gonzales always said there’d be a place for him, even after his own father said acting was for maricos and drag queens. It always hurt more when the postcards from the Gonzales family stopped coming than when Mom stopped calling. And he always meant to send back a proper return address when he moved out of that crappy loft after his first real movie premiere but that was the 90s, and much of the 90s was spent between working shit jobs and drooling on the floors of rave warehouses. It wasn’t them specifically he didn’t want to see him like that, but anyone. Anyone who knew him before Dieter Bravo. 

Certainly not anyone who called him Uncle Dee —

Something flashes in the corner of his eye and he realizes he’s always fucking hated the fact that the a) the back of his house is just one big window and b) he never bothered to put in curtains. Because, the thing with windows is they reflect things — things like his pseudo-niece taking her top off in his guest bathroom. Reflected and in full color right across his kitchen island like the sexiest hologram that will haunt his fucking wet dreams until the day hell freezes over. 

Yep, that’s definitely your hips, your ribs, and okay—

Nope. Absolutely not. 

Dieter’s knees give out and he crouches (more like slumps) to the floor behind the island, his palms so far in his eye sockets he can only see stars.

Yeah, only stars. Focus on the stars, not the image of the curve of your gorgeous tits that’s running around his brain like a child with scissors and a Thanatos instinct off the fucking charts. 

Fuck, and he just wanted to get high and watch Nicholas Cage in a mullet. 

“Hey, I’m done. Dee, you still here?”

He stifles a groan and stands up. You smile at him, the wet jeans and agonizing white tank top gone, only to be replaced by a black Fleetwood Mac tshirt and — fuck, where are your pants?

You lower the handle to your suitcase and go to stow by the bathroom door. And that’s when he realizes you are actually wearing pants, black shorts that are practically hidden by the oversized t-shirt and are comically, hilariously, painfully small. He can’t actually see the curve of your ass as you walk around the side of the island but he is absolutely not going to let his gaze linger long enough to confirm. 

He clears his throat as you come to stand beside him. He gestures to the four pieces of white bread and a stack of Crafts American cheese. 

“H-h-have —,” he clears his throat again and his forebearers groan collectively in embarrassment. “Have at it.” 

You smile and tuck your hair over your ear before picking up the knife. 

“D’you have mayonnaise? Butter?”  

No amount of irredeemable hotness can distract him from that. “What? What do you need mayonnaise for? It’s grilled cheese.”

You cluck your tongue, an eyebrow raised. “Brain science and rocket surgery, remember? Don’t question the master.”

He can’t help but chuckle as he goes to his steel monolith of a fridge. 

“Jeez, sorry, I asked,” he grumbles playfully.

He comes back with an (thankfully) unexpired jar and tub of butter and you get to work. Silence stretches a bit too long, something Dieter has never been good with, especially with beautiful women. He loves running his mouth and sometimes he's found that the women liked it too. He resigns himself to sit across from you at the island, watching you spread mayonnaise on both sides of the bread. 

“So, uh, how are the folks? How’s your, uh, dad?”

You nod slowly and even though he hasn’t been around in eleven years to pick up on all your tells, he swears your hackles go up.

“Fine. All good. Dad’s still at the car repair shop — owns it now, actually. Makes decent money, I guess.” 

“You guess?” He hadn’t made it his life’s work to mimic the human condition to not recognize cagey language. 

You glance at him briefly before flipping over the last piece of bread and dropping a dollop of mayonnaise on top. 

“Yeah. I — uh, we haven’t — I actually haven’t talked to them in a while. Though if I had, I probably wouldn’t be here right now.” You sneak another glance, this one ladened with a smile that had a secret curled up in its corners. “Serves me right, probably.”

“Yeah. Probably.” 

He can’t help but return the smile, one of a familiarity he hasn’t earned yet. You were smiling at him as if you two had years of secrets together, memories and inside jokes that were for the pair of you alone. For the life of him and all the water in his ridiculous pool, he couldn’t fathom why you were being so nice to him. Letting him off the hook. It had been eleven fucking years after all. There are a lot of things he takes guilt free from the world. Your fucking star-eyed smile is not one of them. 

So, he lets you off the hook. He doesn’t push it. If you don’t want to talk about your folks, he is happy to chatter aimlessly about something else. But, his brain winds up, what happened that caused you to fall out with your parents? Enrico, even back then, had been a hard ass, with you and your brothers. Always made sure to walk the straight and narrow. Detested drugs, always shined his shoes, thought tattoos were the devil, never kissed a girl on the first date — 

And here you are, making fucking mooneyes at his daughter. 

Well, one thing was for sure, he muses, something warm spreading in his gut, you are nothing like your daddy. 

The hiss of the bread hitting the hot butter in a pan (you didn’t even need to ask where another pan was, you just helped yourself to his cabinets and he couldn’t have been more proud) jerks him out of his daze and he realizes that annoying silence has set in again. 

“So, colleges, huh? Anything in particular spark interest?” 

You nod excitedly as he found a topic that made you glow. Clearly, no one had asked about your interests in a long time.

“Yeah, actually. Emerson in Boston was amazing. I loved the city, but not sure I’d survive the winter. Swarthmore sounds good, Amherst too, but again, cold.” You grin sheepishly and flip the sandwiches, pressing the spatula (he didn’t even know he owned one of those) into the bread, making the butter sizzle and the air fill with a smell that can only be described as mouth-watering. 

“It’ll be a nightmare, taking out loans for those places, but fuck, I think I’d be really happy there.” 

He leans against the counter, facing you with crossed arms. He smiles a smile that he knows doesn’t reach his eyes.

“What, your folks wouldn’t pay for it? Or at least help out?”

Something sharp flashes in your eyes, like a rabbit catching the scent of a predator, before you shrug your shoulders flippantly. A well-worn deflection, he notes, right next to the place where he’s got all the places you mentioned are about as far away from California as possible. If you had mentioned somewhere in Europe, he wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Nah. I wouldn’t let them. Don’t want them thinking they get input into my life because they hold the purse strings over my head.” You turn off the stove and he moves to get the plates out from the cabinets – something to contribute as you made him a better meal than he’s had in ages. 

“So, uh, we eat in there?” You glance down the hall to the eerily clean dining room, a place he’s pretty sure he’s never once set foot in after three years of living in this goddamn mansion. 

He chuckles and shakes his head. “C’mon, I already have a movie picked out.” 

You follow him, plates hot, down carpeted stairs to clearly the only room in the house that Dieter actually lives in. The lights down here are low, much more bearable than the white spotlights of the kitchen. Against one wall, there’s a fully stocked bar, with most of the alcohol halfway empty and costing a fortune. Across from the stairs is a massive record collection, going up to the ceiling, next to a gorgeous old record player — all wood and black vinyl — with big, plushy earphones curled up on a black leather recliner. 

But the star of the show is the wall-to-ceiling television, with a brown, mouse-soft leather sofa that wraps like a giddy, up-turned grin in front of it. 

And of course, in between the superstar television and the cozy couch, is a low glass table where he had snorted lines of coke more times he could count and where a virgin joint sits, unsmoked and tempting. 

Dieter flushes as though he’d been caught by his parents with his pants down around his ankles. 

“Fuck, sorry–,” he rushes over, the plate clattering with the glass, and he reaches for the joint, ready to squish it into his pocket when– 

You laugh. “Relax, Dee, I know what a joint is. In fact, we are very well acquainted.”

You fold yourself into the couch, legs crossed, grinning at him as you bite into your sandwich. 

He swallows, unclenching slightly as he sits down next to you. He watches you eat for a moment, trying to think of something cool to say.

“Sounds like I’ve missed my calling as the fun uncle, getting you high for the first time and all that.” 

You snort and swallow your mouthful. “Yeah, by like two fucking years.” 

“Oh, what a fucking lifetime. You poor thing,” he says, pouting dramatically and you giggle again, bumping into his shoulder. It sends his sanity knocking around in his brain. 

You don’t notice, though, your eyes falling to the joint in the small ceramic bowl. The smile slides from your face. 

“Well, you might have missed my first joint, but I’d be more than happy to take this one as my next.”

His eyebrows practically bounce off his forehead. “You’re serious?” 

Your eyes slide away from the joint to his, something distractingly dark hiding there. “I mean, if the parties on your Instagram are anything to go by . . . And, well, when in Rome . . .”

You trail off, smirking, gesturing around you as if you had any idea the levels of debauchery that were obtained in this very room. Come to think of it, he halfway considers picking you up off the couch and putting a towel down underneath your perfect ass. 

This is how it went sometimes, with the slower hook ups. No wet clothes, or grilled cheese, or bringing up family trauma — but initial touches, curling smiles, and then drugs. Always drugs. As if there needed to be another hand that tore off the cap of the pressurized, fizzy soda bottle. He’d play music then, for them, to show off his vinyl collection and have a plausible reason to rub his dick between their ass cheeks while dancing slowly to something croon-y from the seventies. 

Not that any of that would be happening with you. 

He wasn’t a complete monster after all. 

With a playful grin that he had mastered over many press junkets, he snatches up the joint and lighter, and presents both to you in the flat of his hand. 

“First hit goes to you, since you were so kind to make dinner for an old fuck like me.” 

You snort and put your plate onto the table, wiping your hands free of crumbs on your black shirt. 

“Such a gentleman.” 

With deft and practiced hands, you take the joint between your index finger and your thumb, and sparking the lighter, brought the flame to your lips. 

Just for one second, one goddamn second, he swears he saw The Look reflected in your eyes. He glances away, his cock fluttering awake like goddamn Lassy hearing the calls of another well-begotten child. He picks up his own plate.

“Hardly. It was all a ploy to get you to admit you follow me on Instagram.”

You burst out coughing, smoke chugging from your nose and mouth. “Dieter!”

He cackles, his tongue between his teeth, as you shove him away from you — do not think about her fingers clenched around your bicep —  try to sit up and inhale again. You hang your head and groan. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe I said that.” 

“Yeah, and for that, I get two puffs,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, the rest of it full of the most perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich he’d ever had. He finishes chewing and swallows. “Hand it over, princess.” 

You hand over the lighter and the joint, the paper slightly greasy from your fingers, leaning back dramatically into one of the many plushy cup holder seats spread out along the very long couch. 

He chuckles devilishly again, far too satisfied, as he lights up and leans back into the cushions. 

“And, as gesture of goodwill, I’ll admit that’s a good fucking grilled cheese.” 

Your eyes snap open and a wide grin splits your face. “Hell yes! Mayonnaise on both sides, butter on the side with cheese. Best family recipe. Mwah!”

“Fuck, even I know that’s too much cholesterol for me,” he grunts and digs into the cushions, feeling around for the remote. 

“Well, that’s not enough cholesterol for me,” you wink as you take the joint from the hand on his thigh, eyes daring you to do something about it. Nowhere near high enough to take the bait, he just narrows his eyes at you as he clicks the button and the entertainment system comes to life with a primordial hum. 

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, eyes wide, as the speakers roar and the lights dim further and the screen glows, “it’s like I’m in a fucking movie theater . . . in space.”

“It’s great, right?” Dieter moans like a loving father over his first child. This thing is his pride and joy, the only thing he could stomach in this goddamn house.

The DVD buffer for Raising Arizona begins and you squeal quietly, sliding onto your back, the joint dangling between your lips. 

“No fucking way, I love this movie.” 

Dieter stilled. “Really? You do?” 

The few times he felt nostalgic for his old life — his old, old life when he was still a kid from nowhere, a nobody, you couldn’t pick him out of a line up of his sweaty, grubby cousins when they were all cobbled together like crooked teeth in front of Abuela Josefina’s television that still had knobs and bunny ears to watch movie after movie of Nicholas Cage reruns. Even with knees in his back, elbows in his ears, Dieter could quote every single line, his heart swelling.

That’s gonna be me some day. 

“This movie is from, like, another century,” he mutters as he watches you settle in, something sickening like adoration clawing up in his chest. 

“Yeah and it’s great,” you say eagerly, ignoring the way he plucks the joint out of your fingers. “Put it on!” 

He resolutely ignores the pinch in his low stomach at your almost whine and presseS the play button with a little more force than necessary. Then, balancing the joint on the ceramic bowl, he sticks his fingers into his robe, pulls out his glasses, and puts them on without a second thought – just as he always did when watching movies. 

It is only when he realizes he doesn’t hear you breathing that he realizes what he has done. Slowly he pulls the square glasses off his face and looks at them, feeling as disgusted as the day his doctor put them in his hands. 

Near-sighted. Very common. Happens when people as they age.

“Got ‘em–,” his throat closes again, “got ‘em a few years ago. Only have to wear ‘em to see things up close and, uh . . . Well, I think they make me look old as shit.” 

He can’t quite look at you, unsure what he’ll see on your face and knowing for sure that he couldn’t stand it if it wasn’t the way you look at him before. If you just would tease him about it, then —

“No,” you say, your voice very soft and small. His heart nearly punches out his throat, his neck nearly snapping in half as his head whips up to look at you. You sit up on your elbows, the darkness of the room cushioning your soft cheeks and muting the glaze in your eyes as you watch him over the bend of your knees. 

“Nah,” you say, your nose scrunching, the weight of the high clearly settling into your skin, “they make you look . . . Uh, they’re cute.” 

Dieter sucks in the side of his cheek, nodding slowly and sliding the glasses back over his nose. Cute, he could work with that. 

“Jeez, would you start the movie already?” You poke his side with your toe. He doesn’t need to look at you to hear the faint blush in your voice. 

He turns the volume up and crosses his arms, smiling faintly. You’re warm next to him, he thinks vaguely, his own high finally starting to sink into his bones. 

Cute. Definitely not a word he’s going to obsess over. 

The movie goes on. 

Nicholas Cage is Nicholas Cage with a mullet.

Your laugh is the clattering of bells in his ears and he can’t remember the last time he laughed so hard his sides hurt. 

He’s coming up from bent over, knees almost to his chest, laughter nearly popping his ribs, when he realizes your feet are in his lap. The arches of your soles, the delicate bones of your ankles, the long smooth planes that run up to your gorgeous calves— 

They are there, in his lap, and you don’t seem to mind. Head turned towards the screen, face bright from laughing, your arm arched back over your head, pressing your chest up —  it’s like you meant for them to be there. 

It’s just one hand, right? Two at the most. Just putting his hands down where he had them a moment ago. Up and — down. 

You don't flinch. His palm is on the arched top of your foot, the other just above your other ankle. 

You do smile, but that might have been because of Nicholas Cage raging again. 

And then, during another bout of giggles, he clutches your shin bone, wraps his fingers around your heel, and laughs and laughs and laughs. 

You wipe the tears away from your eyes, the end credits rolling.

“Fuck, that’s a such a good movie.” 

He swallows, swiping quickly under his glasses before taking them off and chucking them onto the table in front. 

“You’re fucking right it is,” he says hoarsely, leaning forward and plucking up the last of the joint. He inhales, letting the smoke ease stifle the tears in the corner of his eyes, gulping down a breath before offering it to you.

You take it, distracted, eyes on the credits, the light from the screen glowing on your cheeks. 

He presses up under your ankle with his middle finger. “What? You knew what was gonna happen, you’d said you’d seen it before.”  

You nodded, still not looking at him. 

He goes for a more direct approach. He pinches your calf, and you scowl, the light back in your eyes.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, a bit sharply. He’s not nearly done having fun with you, not nearly. You take another sip of smoke before setting the joint back on the table. 

You huff, settling onto your back, pinching at your nails. 

“Just . . . Nothing, it’s stupid.”

Dieter hums. He knows when to let him come to you. He taps the arch of your foot.

“How are you feeling?” His gaze nudges the joint on the table. 

You grin. “Really good. Tingly. Warm. Like everything else is a million miles away.” 

Just the two of us. 

“Enough to tell ol’ Uncle Dee what’s on your mind?”

You roll your eyes and sit up a bit, yanking a pillow behind you. 

“Just thinkin’ about the old days, I guess.” You glance up at him from under your eyes. “Not in a bad way. At all. I just . . .”

“What?” If you gave him hell for the last eleven years, then fuck it, he deserved it. He pulls at your ankle. “What?” 

With a big sigh, you lean back, something finally breaking and, with it, comes a great big smile. 

“Okay, remember when you’d put on those plays with the rest of us kids during those super lame family reunions o-o-or Christmas? Marissa would have everything written out, all the cousins cast and you’d beg her to let you play – fucking – Bear Number 5 or something ridiculous – and she’d fight you on it but she’d relent, always putting on a show of her own – as if a ten year old could be put out like that.” You giggled, biting on your thumb, a sparkling in your eyes that made something in his chest burn. 

Yes, he remembers the incredibly stupid fuzzy ears and the bear claw mittens. The fake roaring. TMZ would have a fucking stroke if those pictures of him, baby-faced, were to ever surface online. He smiles at you and basks in the warmth of those memories, his high making them brighter. 

“I think it would have crushed her little heart if you didn’t ask,” you said, heavy-lidded eyes on you again. “I know it broke her when you stopped showing up at all.” 

His heart actually pinches at that. He knows you’re not scolding him but fuck, maybe he’d feel better if you did. What a fucking idiot he was, for leaving all of that for empty mansions and meals from UberEats and all this fucking gunked up shit in his veins that made him feel older and older every year. Like he was chasing something that was never real in the first place. 

“Look, honey,” the pet name is out of his mouth before he can stop it. He’s twisting towards you, both hands under your calves now. “I should have called. Should have made sure that at least you knew where to find me, even if things between your dad and I were fucked.”

“Oh, God, Dee, no. I don’t blame you. I don’t even blame my dad, sometimes. You just were very different people. He’s fine living his life in the same small ass town in the middle of nowhere. But you weren’t. And, fuck . . . I’m not either.”

He frowns. You bite your lip and continue.

“You know, I thought about following you out to Hollywood. Because of those plays. I had the best fucking time doing them and Hollywood didn’t seem so scary . . . with Uncle Dee out here. But, uh, I dunno. I grew up, I guess. Figured I was better at telling stories than performing them. I just knew I didn’t want to end up like my dad. Dying where I lived. Unremembered.” 

His gut doubles in on itself. Please don’t say you gave up your dreams because I stopped calling. 

“Do you still think about acting?” He asks quietly, trying to fight the faint ringing in his ears. 

“Oh God, no,” you wave your hands, dusting away his near-panic that he’d somehow ruined your life. “I really do prefer writing stories, even if they exist only within the pages of a book. Or a really bad pamphlet, once or twice. I tried to continue the plays at home for a few years, after you left and Marissa took up cheerleading and thought she was too old to play with her little cousins anymore. But it just wasn’t the same without her. Or you.” 

He realizes all too late that he can feel your pulse under your ankle. Strong. Pounding. Pounding, hard. Like you’re nervous. So struck by the notion that he can feel something so personal of yours, the smoke trapped in his brain lifts only slightly when he catches your eyes looking somewhere you absolutely should not be. 

Oh, fuck.

Oh, fuck, he knows that look. You blink at him, then your gaze slowly slides down, down to his crotch, as smoothly you can beneath the weight of the smoke in your brain and he battles between the desire to throw your legs off him or pull you underneath him.

It’s The Look. 

Men, women, it didn’t matter. The look was the same.

When the possibility of sex first enters their mind, when that first bloom of lust rushes down their spine and the memory of the physical exertion of fucking – all the panting and the heavy breathing, aching muscles and sweat – comes back, as real as a song stuck in your head. When that spark of imagination threatens to sway from the hypothetical to the actual, it’s a look he knows so fucking well, he might as well be able to carve it from clay, blind-folded. 

And you’re giving it to him, right now. 

You haven’t really thought about seducing him yet, no, that part hasn’t crossed your mind yet. But you definitely are imagining what his cock would feel like inside you, and you and your imagination and your wide-eyed gaze at his lap all whole-heartedly agreed: that would be a great fucking thing. 

You, on your elbows, your heel dangerously close to his half-hard cock, the glaze in your eyes having something to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing, and your short breath having everything to do with what you were so shamelessly picturing.

He was quite sure you were completely unaware of the expression your face was making. Eyes hooded, mouth parted, breath short. Masking your emotions and filthy thoughts is a skill set mastered later in life and perhaps the last time you looked at someone like that, they simply bent you over the nearest surface and railed you till your knees buckled. 

What a fucking excellent idea, his libido trilled. Now get off the couch and do something about it. I’m foaming at the fucking mouth here, man. 

Dieter silences his inner horny monster, unintentionally squeezing his hand, the one that happens to be wrapped around your calf. 

The movement seems to break you out of your dizzying spiral and you blink up at him.

He swallows. With a half smirk on the edge of your lips that you try to not let him see, you take your feet out of his lap, then reach forward, your palm alarmingly high on his thigh as you take the joint from his fingers. Your eyes flash like warning signs.

DANGER. DANGER, WILL ROBINSON. DANGER.

“So, you gonna give me a tour of this place or what?”

End of Part 1 | Next

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Powerbottom!Phil (2) Masterlist

part one

Consume Me (because I'm all yours) (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne), embarrassing_myself

Summary: Dom!powerbottom!phil and sub!top!dan hcs with a lot of praise and teasing

Dan and Phil Take Each Other's Clothes Off (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!) (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan and Phil play dress-up based off Dan's one dailybooth

Dan stops and stares at him, “You did not just tell me a red panda fact while we are having sex.”

“They can also glow in the dark.”

domino’s pizza (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: dan can’t stop thinking about calling phil ‘daddy’ again, but his anxiety makes it feel impossible to communicate his desires with phil. but phil always knows when something’s up, and dan can’t bear to keep things from him.

Experience is key (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: On a fateful late-night walk, Dan happens across two oddly familiar young men in the park.

Grey Sweatpants (ao3) - Absolutefilthimsosorry

Summary: Set after the filming of the fall guys dvp where dan was wearing grey sweatpants.

How He Wants It (ao3) - Emejig16

Summary: Dan is a bit of a hopeless top and Phil isn’t having that.

"Is this on?" (ao3) - Scuddleduck

Summary: Dan and Phil set up to film in the hotel room, but get distracted. They don't know the mic is recording.

Like Fine Print (ao3) - totalincandescense

Summary: Every few weeks, Dan was given an unfriendly reminder of at least one of the many reasons why he never went outside.

The most frequently recurring thing on the list being the general existence of people.

But more specifically, the existence of people who flirted with Phil.

Netflix and Phil (ao3) - cynx_17_kh

Summary: What happens when Phil can't sleep and he doesnt know what to do? He pays Dan a visit and the escalate quickly.

No Evil Angel But Love (ao3) - benotafraidofwriting

Summary: All Prince Daniel Howell wanted to do was escape from a future of a loveless marriage and a miserable life. He got more than he bargained for when he summoned the most powerful sorcerer in the world to help him do so.

Restrain Yourself (ao3) - Allthephils

Summary: Phil buys a harness for Dan, you know, for fashion.

The Father and The Nun (ao3) - cosmic_angel_writes

Summary: Sister Daniel has wanted nothing but Father Philip since she first joined the church. Today is the day she finally gets what she wants.

the pool noodle fight (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Navigating the emotional aftermath of Phil's near-death experience with the help of, uh, some foam pool toys.

To be loved (ao3) - Thedemonqueen

Summary: Dan knows Phil insisted they’re together. Dan knows Phil loves him. But it doesn’t stop Dan from feeling dirty when he wants to touch Phil.

what, like it's hard? (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: title, obviously, from legally blonde

[ranbling]

Thank you for answering my ask! You mentioned something I (somehow) forgot to mention, the fact that yea the reason why Chase’s dad gets more focus in the fandom is simply because we not only get to actually see him but also that Chase directly expresses anger towards him. I am curious tho as to why his mum gets barely any mentions though? Like you’ve said it seems like we don’t even get to hear her name. If we were to interpret it as an “artistic choice” let’s say, I guess it could be read as him just blocking out those memories, or like I’ve sort of mentioned in my last ask, Chase seeing blaming her failures on his father leaving, which is why he’s more upset at his fathers actions than at his mothers (because admitting that only one parent failed you is much less painful than admitting that both of them did. But that is another story.) I’ve also seen somewhere that he’s got a sister? Which  I’m guessing also isn’t that explored on, as I also didn’t see any name or trace of her. Kind of a shame because I think that just adds another layer to his family background  and upbringing.

To summarise: Chase got strong daddy issues, Chase got even stronger mommy issues(potentially)

So, I think Chase as a character is very secretive about things that matter. He makes up heroic stories to flirt with girls, has a whole fake reason as to why he wanted to become a doctor, but doesn't really talk about his personal things. He only opens up to the kid with the alcoholic mom to help, he tells the nun about the seminary school, but the team does not know about it and he only talks even about his father when he literally shows up and Chase can't avoid talking about him. His mom on the other hand is dead and had been for a long time. I can't remember if we know exactly how old Chase was when she died (or if it was even mentioned) but he wasn't even an adult yet. It's in the past and I do think Chase is chosing to just... not focus on it. His mom was an alcholic, she is dead now and it's easier to just not bring her up

So yep, I def think he blames his mom alcholism on his dad leaving (and possibly cheating on his mom) and it's just easier for him. He left and everything is his fault and the fact that both of his parents failed him can be blamed on Rowan

Also, his sister gets brought up in s8, but it's just a little mention and I'm not there yet in my rewatch and honestly I can't even remember what they said about her. I know she is much younger than Chase, so that's another trauma

other explanation of why it's not really brought up: it's the House show and the other characters' past is not really relevant to the show, so they only give us little snippets to get some kind of backstory, but don't expand on it

Also I'm really enjoying your thoughts, so thank you for sending these asks!!