#he was always there! just as the truth - hidden but always there

[nhlclover]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 | 𝐀𝐃𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈

summary: adam and you struggle to keep your relationship a secret from nick, your overprotective brother, until an incident ultimately forces the truth into the open.

warnings: blankenburg!sister, couple instances of swearing

word count: 1.37k

Adam felt a knot of tension in his stomach as he glanced at Nick, who was laughing with their teammates over a game of darts. Beside him, you looked radiant, your laughter mixing with the upbeat music and chatter. The neon lighting of the bar accentuated every smile that graced your lips. Your presence seemed to dim the outside world for Adam, his attention completely focused on your infectious energy.

It was your infectious energy that first drew Adam to you. When Nick first introduced his sister to his newest teammate, you took effect on Adam instantaneously. You seemed to captivate everyone in the room, but it was Adam who was drawn to you like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the warmth and brightness you brought to life.

You found yourself equally pulled in by Adam’s charming personality, not being able to pull your eyes off his ever-present smile. You were well aware of the barbaric ‘no dating my sister rule’ that Nick would tell his teammates about. You found the rule to be ridiculous as you’d always said you would never fall for one of his teammates, but that was before you met Adam. Any precaution went out the window as you found yourself falling head over heels for him.

As you got close to Adam, the pair of you decided to keep your relationship a secret until the right moment presented itself. It was easy in theory, but in practice, it became a burden to both of you as you worked tirelessly to ensure that Nick wouldn’t find out until you were ready.

The secret of their relationship was a constant weight on Adam’s shoulders, one he desperately wished he could cast off, but the fear of Nick’s reaction kept it hidden. Adam respected Nick, but this rule felt suffocating now that you and him were together. The irony of the situation gnawed at him—he had been drawn to her from the moment they met, her charm and wit irresistible. Keeping their relationship hidden was a necessary evil, but each passing day made it more unbearable.

Tonight was supposed to be a fun night out. Michigan was on spring break, allowing Luca to come to Ohio and visit his younger brother. Adam was excited to introduce the two of you, hoping that you would get along even without knowing that you were his girlfriend. However, Luca, ever the charmer, was getting along with you a little too well. Adam watched as Luca chatted with you, noting the way his brother’s eyes lingered a bit too long on your smile.

He could see where this was heading, and he didn’t like it. Luca’s flirtatious nature was something he was all too familiar with, but seeing it directed at you stirred something protective and primal within him. You seemed oblivious to Luca’s flirting, but Adam’s protective instincts were on high alert. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He knew Luca wasn’t trying to overstep — he didn’t know about your relationship, after all. But seeing another man flirt with you sent a burning ache of jealousy through Adam’s veins.

Adam watched as Luca said something to you that caused another laugh to come out, and finally, he couldn’t bear it any longer. He stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides. “Hey, can I steal her for a dance?” he asked, not waiting for a reply as he took your hand.

You looked surprised but followed him to the dance floor. “Adam, what’s going on?” you asked, concern in her eyes.

He didn’t answer immediately, pulling you into him, his hands resting dangerously low on your waist. He made sure to stop right on the edge of the dance floor where Luca could still see them.

“I just needed to be close to you,” he murmured, leaning in. “I can’t stand seeing him flirt with you.”

You blinked, confusion flickering across your face. “Luca? He’s just being friendly.”

Adam shook his head. “No, he’s flirting. And I need you to know that you’re mine.”

Without thinking, Adam dipped his head down, connecting your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. You loved the way his hungry lips met yours, the way he pulled your hips into his. But common sense took over you as you pulled back, eyes wide. You knew your brother was somewhere nearby and could only imagine what his reaction would be if he saw his teammate kissing his sister.

Your eyes looked around in hopes that Nick didn’t see, but his eyes had been on you since Adam pulled you to dance. He had already made his way to the two of you, his jaw wire tight. You stepped out of Adam’s grip and in front of him, acting as a barrier between him and Nick.

“Nick, it’s not what you think—” you began, but Nick’s eyes were locked onto Adam.

“What the hell is going on?” Nick’s voice was low, dangerous.

Adam stood his ground, though his heart was racing. “Nick, I can explain.”

Nick’s glare didn’t waver. “Explain what? That you’re breaking the one rule I set? That you’re sneaking around with my sister?”

“Nick can you just—”

Nick didn’t even look down at you, his furious gaze still locked on Adam. “Y/n, stay out of this,”

You scoffed, opening your mouth to speak, but Adam beat you to it. “Nick, you’re overreacting man.”

“I’m overreacting?” Nick scoffed. “You’re the one macking on my sister and flaunting it in front of me. Fuck you, dude.”

“Enough!” you finally said, your eyes blazing as you looked between Adam and Nick. “Both of you, outside, right now.”

You headed towards the exit, several patrons eyes now on the group of you after having caused a scene. Reluctantly, they followed you outside to the front of the bar.

“Nick,” you began, looking at your older brother whose temper had yet to settle. “I’m your sister, not your fucking property. I’m my own person. I can make my own decisions and date whoever I choose. You don’t get to dictate that. I love Adam, and you need to respect that.”

Nick opened his mouth to argue, but you held up a hand to stop him. “And you,” you turned to Adam, your expression softening but still stern. “You don’t need to act like a caveman to prove a point. I’m committed to you, Adam. I would never flirt with your own brother or anyone else.”

Adam looked at her, guilt washing over him. “I’m sorry, y/n. I just… I couldn’t stand seeing him flirt with you.”

“I get that,” you say, sighing. “But you need to trust me and trust that if people try to flirt with me, I will tell them that my boyfriend will beat them up.”

Adam couldn’t help but let a small smile appear on his lips at hearing you call him your boyfriend in front of Nick, your relationship no longer a skeleton in the closet for him.

Nick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry too. I just… I didn’t expect this.”

“We didn’t mean to hurt you. We just… we couldn’t help it,” you said.

“I just…Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick asks, his expression soft.

Adam took a deep breath. “Because we were afraid of how you’d react. You made it clear that you didn’t want something like this to happen. But I love her, Nick. I love her, and I’m not going to hide that anymore.”

Nick stared at Adam, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “This is… a lot to take in.”

“We didn’t want to keep it from you forever. We just wanted to find the right time,” you tell your brother.

Nick nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours. “Alright. But if you ever hurt her, Adam, I swear—”

Adam nodded earnestly. “I won’t. I promise.”

Nick looked between the two of you, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Okay. But you’re buying the next round.”

A relieved smile spread across your face as you hugged your brother, and Adam exhaled, the weight on his shoulders finally lifting.

#adam fantilli #adam fantilli x reader #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #columbus blue jackets #nick blankenburg #luca fantilli

[zzeraphilm]

Fight For Me

Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader (GN) Word Count: 1,882 Summary: Not every relationship is one to admire, passions and everyday lives will always come in the way of romance. But Kuroo Tetsurou only realises this a bit later than Y/N had hoped. After watching the HQ movie in theatres and being the only person in the cinema to laugh I needed an outlet 

The dumpster battle of the century. The booming echoes of Nekoma’s cheers sent shivers down your spine. Each hit of a palm to a volleyball resonated waves that shattered across the arena. Y/N sat slightly hidden from view of the rest of the Nekoma team. 

Prior to the tournament, Y/N saw it befitting to end their relationship with the notable volleyball team captain, Tetsurou Kuroo. Despite his sly and frivolous behaviour, the black haired mop head agreed with a robotic hum. Their time together was not as revered as one might seem. On the outside, the pair were known across the Tokyo school for their names would always slip from someone’s lips. Personalities so unalike and yet they were so in sync. 

Y/N did not want to burden Kuroo’s drive to win. Kuroo did not want to neglect Y/N. Days of no contact turned to weeks. Kuroo was always at practice till nightfall, Y/N was cooped up in their room studying meticulously for their university entrance exams. By the fifth week of no contact beyond school, Y/N had sent a message to Kuroo for the first time in over a month.

Meet me by the park, after practice. 6PM.

The park’s swing set was rusted from the skin of the bolts into the grooves of its spiralling metal. Y/N still kicked their feet lightly whilst perched on the wood awaiting for the captain’s arrival.

6:30PM. 6:45PM. 6:50PM. 6:55PM. 6:57PM. 6:59PM. 

Clumping running shoes came knocking towards the H/C haired figure on the swing. 

“Sorry, practice ran over again.” Kuroo Tetsurou was always the first to arrive at Nekoma’s practice and the last to leave. He decided if practice would overextend. He knew Y/N was waiting, but still only cared for the game. 

Y/N couldn’t help but think that Kuroo saw them as an afterthought. Despite their moments of hilarity and nonsense over the last three years, more often than not Kuroo would see his focus else where, usually towards the court. 

“You’d always say that.” Y/N’s tongue spilt a tiny drop of venom at the end of their comment. 

“It’s the truth.” 

With a huff, Y/N stood to challenge the boy. No, man. Even within a few weeks, he had been scarily evolving to a matured, aged version of himself. Yet Y/N never noticed the way Kuroo’s shirts no longer fitted him the same way, or the slight stubble growing on his chin and upper lip or how his cologne had shifted from a softer, powdery scent, to a peppery Oudh masked with a floral kiss. Y/N didn’t get to experience his metamorphosis from a boy to a man, he saw it with his brothers, his teammates, with volleyball. Y/N wasn’t the first person that Kuroo would go to over news about his life advancements. Y/N was merely a shadow. The awkward smiles that they had to endure whenever their friends mentioned their boyfriend of three years, acting as if they had spoken properly in the last few hours, yet in reality had only seen each other’s faces passing each other in the halls. Not even a hand brush or a light peck. Just stares that lasted mere milliseconds, that held no emotion behind them. 

Kuroo knew he wasn’t giving Y/N enough attention or time. He knew that the trajectory of his life at the moment was solely on volleyball and his studies. Dates, after school hangouts, good morning and good night texts no longer found a place in his daily schedules. His passion for the sport only grew further from the summer camp, where Y/N was abroad on holiday with their family. Which, selfishly, allowed Kuroo to solely think and breathe volleyball. He didn’t call Y/N every Friday night like he promised. He tried but all of his energy was directed in a laser beam towards the court. His heart would beat at exponential rates, each breath would feel like a stab in his throat and he could feel each pulsating beat from his heart pumping his blood throughout his body. It was torturous, yet so incredibly fun he wanted it to never end. Time would stop when it was just him on the court and a ball. But Y/N would never cross his mind. He wouldn’t realise until the next morning when Y/N would attempt some form of contact with a text, usually saying:

Good morning, enjoy your day. Don’t overwork yourself <3

The texts dwindled over time going from paragraphs of care and patience to blunt words of indifference to nothing at all. They both could sense the fading of their bond. They were just scared to see who would be the first to rip off the bandage. 

“Let’s break up. This isn’t working. We don’t have time for each other, it’s not worth the pain of being ghosts of each other and pretending to be okay in front of others.”

Y/N imagined this scenario multiple times before they’d fall asleep. Sometimes Kuroo Tetsurou would scream and wail, grabbing them by their shoulders begging for mercy, begging to stay together, begging for their love. Other times Kuroo Tetsurou would be the first to initiate the conversation, saying how he holds no feelings for them anymore, that there was someone else or some dramatic reason that would paint him to be villain in Y/N’s fantasies. Y/N clung to these thoughts, of a Kuroo Tetsurou that would fight for them, of a Kuroo Tetsurou that would plead for them or a Kuroo Tetsurou who lived up to his perceived image. 

Yet, Kuroo just agreed. Gave a small nod, a wave goodbye and walked off.

As Kenma desperately screamed to reach the ball, it was futile. The yellow and blue ball bounced on the polished court for nearly a second before the huddle of crows screamed in unison. Between the rival teams, Karasuno proved their victory. Y/N would only attend Kuroo’s games if it meant the two would get a bite to eat afterwards, usually at a nearby family diner. Y/N tried to learn the rules of volleyball yet couldn’t handle its quick gameplay. So volleyball felt empty without Kuroo. 

But this game was riveting, Y/N felt their soul boom at each spike and block. Despite having never stepped foot on a court beyond the Nekoma school gym, Y/N craved the illustriousness of the court. The despite to jump beyond the heights of giants and reach the sky, to slam their palm against the flying ball and hear the shattering screams of contact between the ball and the court. Y/N could finally see why Kuroo loved the sport. But, they could only see the back of his frame. They were sure that there were a few tears shed from his eyes. But Kuroo Tetsurou still upheld his Cheshire smile that brought those around him to laugh. As the boys hugged each other, shook hands and exchanged jokes. Y/N knew, they knew why this was more important to Kuroo than they were. They understood what it meant, but just because one can understand doesn’t mean that they aren’t allowed to feel resentment. 

Y/N did not harbour any ill will towards Kuroo himself, rather, they hated the choices that he took. He never fought for them, he never tried, he never challenged them. But most of all, he never truly included them in this world that he loved. Y/N could only see it from a far, from a screen or on the sidelines. Where once they left the world of volleyball, the pair would be in their own bubble, floating far away from those Kuroo considered family. Whether it was their childish adolescent calling for self-centred attention or their lack of understanding of one another. Y/N left the arena silently, returning to their isolated world of study, far from Kuroo Tetsurou. 

After three years, Y/N had achieved their dream of studying abroad in Australia for their bachelors. Their parents had agreed to help fund their masters back in Tokyo and Y/N had made their way back to their home country. Their time in the scorching sun and endless nights of parties, midnight assignment writings and the multitude of faces from across the world shaped Y/N into an alluring individual. They had shed the skin that they were trapped in from high school into a blooming butterfly in adulthood. They had everything aligned to the T, as per their promise to themselves when they were 16. 

Kuroo Tetsurou had not given up volleyball entirely. He used his wit and charm to weasel his way into the top of the industry, working aside the Japan’s Volleyball Association, meeting the best players in the world, scouting them and dinning with them. Of course, he had social media. No one in his field was a stranger to the Internet, every moment, every win and loss was recorded online and he had to know it all. Whilst scrolling one summer’s day, in between the break of the game he was sitting in, he stumbled upon them. 

Y/N L/N. His high school sweetheart. The one that got away. His biggest regret. His biggest loss. 

Kuroo only realised his heartbreak a year after their split, seemingly throwing himself into his studies and passions as a way to mask his mourning. He had gotten so good at busying himself with work and studies that he had forgotten the feeling of heartbreak. Until he craved it. When news of an internship he had wanted for months finally arrived congratulating him on his addition to the team - he wanted to tell Y/N all about it. He absent mindedly found his phone in his hands trying to find Y/N’s contact, only to find it erased. He didn’t need to think, it was like a jolt in his body had awoken, tears flooded his line of view. And for the first time in a year, after months of distractions, he cried for his lost love. 

Kuroo spent the whole night stalking Y/N’s socials, careful not to like them or accidentally follow them. He would stare endlessly at their selfies, photography of the cities they had travelled to and their wide friendship group. Nobody that he recognised. Their followers consisted of strangers to him. He hadn’t felt this empty since the night of losing them. In a drunken slurry of thoughts, Kuroo only saw his fingers dance over the follow button, he didn’t feel the pads of his fingers hit the screen.

It was only until the next morning, he saw that Y/N’s profile no longer existed. 

Their profile was empty, their bio did not load and with every drag, the page refused to load. A previous screen flooded with smiling faces and exciting milestones now replaced with a text merely stating the obvious.

User not found

Kuroo Tetsurou took it as his final sign to leave it. It was too late to reach out, to plead for another chance, it was too late to fight for something that was snuffed out years ago. 

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq x reader #hq fanfic #kuroo tetsurō #kuroo tetsuro fanfic #anime #anime and manga #anime fanfic #anime x reader

[sagelasters]

YOU ARE GOD

When I talk about the existence of ‘God’, I don’t mean the supreme-human being that most Christians/catholics believe in. And if you just happen to be a believer of those religions that I listed, I would suggest you scroll away, mainly because what I'm about to say would be considered offensive and ‘blasphemous’. 

I had to admit that I was close to giving up on the law until I had the pleasure of stumbling upon one of Bill Donahue’s lectures on Youtube. His teaching is very similar to that of Neville Goddard’s but Bill mainly analyzes the hidden meanings in the bible. He argues that the bible should not be taken literally but rather it is a treasure trove of metaphors and symbolism. 

So how are we ‘God’? 

For instance, Bill stated that the crucification of Jesus was a symbolization of suffering and long passage of endurance. One must go through the purge before they shall be awakened, similar to how Jesus was revived. 

Upon his reading of the bible, it was ‘God’ himself who stated that we were our own Gods and not Satan. Bill also talks about how each of us harbors the Single Eyes of Horus, where you may ask? It’s in the middle of your forehead, what he called the ‘pinnacle’. The pinnacle opens when your eyes close, signifying the detachment from the material world, and embodying a sense of consciousness of the inside realm. 

Most of us here embrace the existence of a supreme-human being, a teacher that guides us simply because we feel lost in the way. It’s uncomfortable being alone and that’s why most of us prefer to be followers, rather than our own leader. 

So how are you ‘God’? Well most of you are here because you wanted to seek a better life for yourself. You were born into a life you did not ask for, with a fate I know you weren’t meant for. No soul is meant to suffer as long as they are tattered to this Earth, but it is that same hurt that brought you here. Like Jesus, you’ve endured hardships and the moment you learnt about the law, that’s when death follows. 

The death of the old story and then…an awakening of who you really are. 

 The Pinnacle opens now if you allow it, embrace the paradox. Allow yourself to be the observer of your thoughts and let them go. 

You are the way (I AM)

You are the truth (I AM)

You are the life (I AM)

You are not the flesh, you are the being in the flesh. You are conscious. You are something perceiving something else. You are always watching. You are pure awareness and stillness. 

Be your own leader and teacher.

If you want to watch more of his lectures, I will link a playlist directly to my intro post. Bill has a lot of important source materials as well. I highly advise you to read his published work ‘Hidden Meaning’ if you wish to seek more insights on his analyzation of the bible.

#dividers by fairytopea / credit in tags if used #loa blog #loa tumblr #loassumption #void state #law of assumption #manifesation #neville goddard #shifting community #reality shifter #shifting realities #reality shift #shifting blog #reality shifting #shifting motivation #shifting antis dni

[moonflower-ifs]

✾ DEMO ⚘ FAQ ✾ CHARACTERS ⚘

The fresh air coming from the sea, the lull of the little crickets singing in the wind, and the smell of flowers growing closer the nearer you are to your uncle's house… Everything is as you remember from all the summers you spent here, in the woods, on the beach, in the nearby town. As if the time has never passed, as if stepped in directly in your memories.

Isn't it quite ironic this almost melancholic feeling, considering how much you didn't want to come here, isn't it? As soon as you got the invitation to his birthday party, you were ready to refuse, to say no. Even Maribel's attempts to convince you hadn't been enough to budge you, until one day you did change your mind… Alas, it doesn't matter the why or the hows: all that's important now is that you're almost there.

In the place where all of your friends await you, maybe this will be an opportunity to mend what has been broken, to restore the threads that have loosened… or to cut them for good. Still, you can almost taste blood on your tongue, or is it in the air?

Moonflower is strictly rated 18+ with horror nuances and mysteries. It will deal with and/or have explicit content and themes (language, sexual, drug/alcohol use, violence, and more).

― FEATURES & MC CUSTOMIZATION

Customize your MC! Choose the name, gender, sexuality, appearance, and more!

Navigate the relationships of your "group of friends" and rekindle old friendships or crushes! Or let them burn to the ground! Maybe you could even play as a matchmaker… who knows?

Romance 5 of the main characters of the game! But be careful: you never know what'll await you.

Investigate and discover mysteries and secrets around you, some more hidden than others.

Who said memories can't hurt you? Probably no one.

But the most important thing is for you to try to survive this party. Don't let the atmosphere get to you.

(With the development, things could be changed, added, or removed.)

― CHARACTERS & ROs

¬ Ashton Moon, the actor ✾ he/him, 30 [RO]

You've known him since middle school and have been friends since, or better: he was your best friend / long-lasting crush. Now he's an acquaintance at best, if not a stranger in your life.

¬ Lucrèce Wray, the heir ⚘ he/him, 32 [RO]

You've always seen him as the long-time boyfriend and then fiancé of your childhood friend, at least until recently. Now he's just the jaded and cynical heir that is threaded in your life, for better or worse.

¬ Hazel Elwyn, the pharmacist ✾ she/her, 33 [RO]

Your childhood friend, who has been with you since you could remember. The constant presence in your life, except that now she's not as present as it used to be…

¬ Zane Scott, the photographer ⚘ they/them, 32 [RO]

They've been friend with Ashton long before being yours, but Zee wormed themselves into your life just fine. As of now, their absence in yours is palpable.

¬ Marilyn Casey, the singer ✾ she/her, 31 [RO]

You've met during a party in your 20s, as a friend of your friends, it was natural for you to see her around. Strangely enough, now she's the one who's more friends with you than others.

¬ Maribel Castillo, the waitress ⚘ she/her, 28

You were the one to introduce her to your group of friends. She saw you as her best friend, and she still does. Even now, she keeps trying to reach out to you, no matter what you do or try to do.

¬ Umberto Coiro, the rich uncle ✾ he/him, 58

Your dear rich and mysterious uncle, from your mother's side, who likes to share his riches with family and friends alike. He's invited you and your friends, to his birthday party, a quite late party, to say the truth.

¬ Camilla Evans, the cousin ⚘ she/they, 35

Your dear cousin, from your mother's side. She's the only other family member your uncle invited to his late birthday party. She might not be his daughter, but Cami is as mysterious as your uncle and as, if not more, enlightening.

― LINKS & EXTRA INFO

Characters References;

Ashton / Lucrèce / Hazel / Zane / Marilyn / Maribel / Umberto / Camilla;

Moonflower's Updates;

Other Ifs;

Normal Asks / NSFW Asks;

If the title wasn't enough: yes, there'll be a lot of flowers on here.

#moonflower #moonflower if #interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive story #twine game #if wip #if game

[lovebillyhargrove]

Ties thinner than cobwebs, thicker than ropes

***

"You know what, King Steve," – Billy's beautifully inhaling the smoke

And just as beautifully letting it out

"Sometimes I think you just killed your parents at some point, buried them here in the backyard .. and started living off their money, telling everyone they're in Indianapolis running the family business or some shit."

"Oh yeah ..?" Steve's relaxed pose has always amazed Hargrove – how cool the dude is, how .. impeccably royal. Like the world is at his feet, like it owes him.

Like it is his god given right to take everything for granted.

Harrington's long graceful fingers are flicking the lighter, gaze fixed at the hazy swirl of the sunset sky above the tree tops. The sky is falling and so

Are they.

"What makes you think so?"

"Dunno. I've only been here half a year myself, but people say they haven't seen your folks around .. for years."

"Hagan's been running his mouth for nothing, spreading rumours around?"

Billy's shrugging his shoulders

"Nah. No rumours. Just facts."

"Ahhah. What a deranged notion." Steve's suddenly squeezing Billy's thick thigh and looking him directly in the eye

"And you think I'm capable of doing something like that?"

Hargrove holds the stare

"I think you're capable of a lot of things, pretty King."

The evening is quiet, the evening is peaceful. The boys are sitting knee to knee on a wide garden swing. Steve is nearing his face towards the beautiful Californian delight

Tastes the April freshness off his lips.

One day they'll travel to the ocean, together, smell the salt, cleanse their wounds. It's on Harrington's to do list.

In the eerie twilight two lonely stones – which may or may not be just stones – are staring the boys in their backs. They are hidden in the faraway corner of the garden, at the edge of the sinister woods.

Not a soul knows what may or may not lie underneath those gray boulders.

Neither does Billy. But not for long.

He will eventually know everything, the whole truth there is to know about the King of this dormant small backwater town, and the spooky secrets of the cursed town itself

Cause Billy is his lover, pulled and tied to him by the strings of destiny.

Roped into Hawkins.

Cause Steve has seen him in his dazzling dreams and has become utterly consumed by the idea of having

The dazzling boy

All to himself.

Royal wish granted.

#there is something about sinister steve #that makes my blood run backwards #it'll make billy's blood run backwards too #harringrove #billy x steve #harringrove imagine #harringrove fic ide #harringrove moodboard

[mimikoolover]

Anon, its not just shippers. Locals have even questioned if Jikook are more then friends. People outside BTS are left speechless when they do stuff. When it came out Jimin left a hickey on JK, Kiss Mark and Hickey were trending #1 worldwide & #1 trending in Korea. If you searched those tags, literally NO ONE was shocked it was Jikook. Different fandoms even chimed in and most of them were like oh, we should have seen this coming with Jikook. Cause they see it. You might not want to label it as something, but you still see it. Unlike Tae and JK who is the bigger ship who have both verbally made it clear there is nothing between them and shut down shippers, with Tae actually snapping at them and telling them to get out of their imagination and JK making it clear he and Tae just were awkward with each other, when their shippers were claiming they were hidden. Almost all tkk are Tae biased jealous women who force the ship, cause they don't want Tae with a woman. keep that in mind. And since Jikook have not shut down their ship like that, when that hickey incident happened, it just casted an even bigger question ? mark on them. Which was already there to begin with because of Jk releasing a video centered around Jimin with a queer love song playing in the video. Most shippers usually ship based on looks and popularity and who they like best together. If they shipped duos based on real evidence that points to them being a couple, then they'd all be Jikookers, since they are the only members of BTS who spend couple days together with each other and not other members. And they'd be Taennie shippers too, since its proven that is who Tae was dating since 2021, with their private pics being leaked in 2022 and him going public with her in 2023. So I always say, how can your ship be real if your ship is spending couple days with other people and not each other? And how can your ship be real, when one half of your ship is publicly dating another person, holding their hand in front of the world? No one is saying we know for a fact Jikook are real, but there is real evidence backing up that suggests they could be more then friends and a 100% backing up that they are NOT dating other members. Please watch original content. Its overwhelming, but its the only way you'll see the real truth. I can promise you, if you do that you'll get a clearer picture.

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

#jikook

[anxious-witch]

Dead boy detectives characters as their big three in Astrology-Charles

Text in the pictures and more explanation under the cut

So, this, unlike Edwin's, aren't canon, just my hcs, although Charles is imo implied to be a Taurus in a scene where Edwin says Taurus and Aries are highly incompatible. Because I refuse to believe this boy is Aries and even less so that Crystal is a Taurus so.

Taurus-Sun

~ Strong will & aesthetic sense, very tactile

~ Loyal & great at taking care of what they love

~ Patient & present, drinks in life with no rush

Sagittarius-Rising

~ Wide-eyed truth seeker, lives life as a quest

- Spontaneous, adventurous, philosophical soul

~ Inclusive & generous, magnet for opportunity

Cancer-Moon

~ Soulful & deep, needs emotional security

~ Sympathetic, extra sensitive & very protective

~ Sentimental, strong ties to the past & family

So, he'd be a perfect balance of earth, fire and water in his big three. Taurus Sun, aka he is grounded enough to have a stable base people he cares about can lean on. Fiercely loyal, once you have his affection, he'd anything for you(cough like fight a demon or go to Hell cough). As a Venus sign, he cares about his apperance, but still keeps it comfortable. Hence why he looks so effortless cool throughout the series. Also Tauruses often love to indulde in little pleasures, such as food, so it's no wonder Charles complains about missing spaghetti. He is a creature of comforts.

His down to earth attitude balances well with Edwin's Capricorn qualities. Both are grounded, but when Edwin focused solely on the goal, Charles is there ti be present in the moment and notice what happens around them and react accordingly. Like with the Night Nurse, where Edwin froze, because he had no idea how to face this kind of threat. Charles was present and his protective instincts kicked in immediately. 

Then we have Sagittarius Rising. I knew he had to be some sort of fire sign, because that boy has so much inner fire to keep him going. And Sagittarius is exactly that. Rising signs are all about how one is perceived, and Sagittariuses are positive and friendly, with boundless energy. One could say that Charles' statement of being "aces with people" fits perfectly here. They are always here for the new adventure and experiences, especially when they are surrounded by people they love to be around.

Last but not least is Cancer Moon. Cancers are known for having many emotions, even having a reputation for crying often, although that's not necessarily true. Having it as his Moon, that represets emotions, especially hidden ones, does mean Charles has lots of feelings. He is sensitive to feelings of others, and in normal circumstances, should be of his own. However, he, similarly to Edwin, isn't a fully realized Cancer Moon at the beginning of the series. He bottles up his feelings, hiding behind his more "desirable" Rising. But eventually, the dam breaks, and he cries and/or lashes out.

Also, interestingly, Cancer Moons are known to be very possessive, which we see when Edwin is spending time with Monty or the Cat King. 

With his full potential realized(which I think, he has more work to do than Edwin does as things stand rn) he'll be a wonderful friend, attentive partner and somehow who freely expresses his emotions, both good and bad.

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #payneland #....kinda #dbda astrology #rio rambles

[pomegranate-pen]

The hunter, the prey, and the fool

Alastor x Detective!gn!reader

summary:

You were never really fond of radios.

In your life, things such as ‘entertainment’ have always been seen as ‘unnecessary noise’ and therefore they were confiscated from your household before you were even born. Had you ever been curious enough to ask about such confiscations, your father would go on a tangent about how the truth must be discovered by oneself rather than believing hearsay. Especially in a time where the truth is always hidden behind the curtain, where every misery of humanity has become a giant spectacle to gawk at and read about in the newspapers. Therefore, in your current years, you found decent entertainment between books alone and never bothered to buy a radio.

Which, in hindsight, has now become a big issue for you, hasn’t it?

The culprit of your new case, the infamous radio show host Alastor looks at you with incredible amusement and a tinge of disdain. there's a prickling feeling within you. something that tells you meeting him was no coincidence nor ordinary matter.

you only hope meeting him won't cause you any trouble.

spoiler: it will.

Ao3 version is here!

Note: they're humans in the first few chapters!

chapter 1.The disciples

Blue and pink engulf the walls and tiles, shining brightly in their clean ceramic might. The wooden chairs and stools full of spots and smudges of coffee stain revel in their small islands of memories, letting the deep brown and rouge colors sink in and become one with its old light brown one. The pastries left were very few, an issue the disciple of the baker usually tends to around this time, where the sun is barely out of its luxurious bed of stars and the birds haven’t begun their daily songs. Yet, the disciple was too busy screaming her lungs out, for she had seen a corpse.

The blood oozes out, creating a pool around the once squeaky clean ground,the owner of the bakery, her father, lays motionless with eyes widened, mouth agape as two deep holes of red take away one’s attention, on right at the temple of his mind and the other at his shoulder. For that morning, the once peaceful and sweet hum of songs that Sasha Peterson would do by the day while the smell of sweet pastries engulfed the street was long forgotten, replaced with screams of heartbreak and dread, banging of the walls and doors as the neighbours wake up and witness the dreadful morning at Greenfield street.

“So that's all she could recall?” The morning sun was barely apparent, the cold sizzles of an autumn-near-winter season leaving you with a grey morning and a dark situation to coincide with it. tapes of yellow engulf the bakery in front of you, your eyes set on the weeping brunette shaking from horror and cold. Hadn’t you been the professional that needed to act indifferent and quiet in the case, you’d be comforting her right about now. Her shaken up form tugs at your heartstrings, but you of all people should know that even the most genuine of acts could be played with a mask.

“well…that’s all we could comprehend through all her cryin’.”  Mr.Lington said. He coughs a few before clutching his shoulders, being far more affected by the cold than you were a the moment, giving the fact that he was in nothing but his cop uniform unfit for cold weather, all while you relished the warmth in your long brown coat- stereotypically fitting for a detective such as yourself. “ would  die for a warm coffee right now.” Lington grumbled.

You gave him an amused smirk. “must suck to wear such a horrid uniform, eh? Maybe you could use that little flimsy badge of yours as fuel for a fire.”

Lington glared at you in jealousy and annoyance. “At least I have a steady paycheck.” He replied back. You and Lington have always had been a…’frenemies’ of sorts, though the ‘friendship’ in it is more done to follow the code of manners and professionality rather than true companionship. Unfortunately for both of you, your jobs mandate you two having more than just one or two interactions within a month. Had your minds been more alike, perhaps you’d gain admiration and respect for each other, but alas, Lington, in your opinion, had always been a prude and a close-minded individual. Often seeking to just quickly close a case rather than seeking out the truth. But, to be fair, he’s also the most bearable of his fellow comrades. Whom were all crude and often much too prideful for your taste to tolerate.

“Say, L/n…if you don’t mind me asking—“ he turns back to you, perhaps tired of seeing Ms.Peterson shake like a leaf as she’s handed a mug of warm tea to soothe her worries. “Why on earth are you here? we just started the case, and I didn’t hear anyone talk about calling you up for this.” his eyes become analytical- judgemental. He tries to search within your act to see if you’ll crack, to see if you’re here for a deeper agenda.

“I was just passing by.” You shrugged. “You could say curiosity has taken a toll on me. when I heard that such a peaceful street has now become bloody, I couldn’t help but check things out for myself.”

Lington’s brows furrowed. You ignored it, eyes glued more to the crime scene before you.

“and in any case, it’s within my responsibilities as a detective—“

“— Private investigator .” Lington felt the need to correct. You could only give him a squinted stare before putting on a bittersweetly annoyed smirk. With a ‘tch’, you continued.

“like I said. As a detective—” You didn’t miss the sneer he gave you, only making you more prideful than before. “ It's within my responsibility to solve any case I see, and today while I decided to take a nice stroll around the town, I witnessed this.” you point to the Bakery before putting your hands into your coat’s pockets. “And if you’ll excuse me, Officer Lington, I have a job to do. whether you like it or not.”

You intend to walk up to the shivering witness a few feet away, however, a cop suddenly blocks your path, giving you a dirty glare then looking back at Lington like a loyal knight. You couldn’t help but huff in annoyance, turning your head back to Lington and giving him a knowing look.

Lington tries to hold back his happy grin through huffs from the cold, but it fails and only makes you feel more irked than before. “Well you came a bit late, Detective .” He then points to his left. “five minutes late, to be exact. “

You look at where he’s pointing, only to be met with a hoard of people circling around an officer and an unknown man. The first thing you notice about the pair is the annoyed smile the culprit gives, as if he’s more frustrated by the itchy handcuffs and grimy hands on him rather than pleading for his innocence.

The officer says a few common phrases to him, urging him to get in the car so they’d leave as soon as possible. Yet, the man wouldn’t budge, unusually strong and avoiding the car seat as much as he could.  A few more officers flea into the scene to help settle him in, but he tries to kick them back with his feet, all while his voice threatens them with the calmest possible tone.

“Now now, dear officers, wouldn’t want to be known for hurting a very well known radio host while falsely accusing him of murder, now would you?” he grins, though his eyes squint in pure annoyance. “ you’re almost tempting me to broadcast the very rotting pits of your actions for all the people in this fine town!”

Intriguing. Awfully intriguing. You look back at Lington more confused than defeated. “you think this is your guy?” you look back at the apparent radio host again, who has successfully kicked one of the officers in the gut while chuckling.

“he was last seen with the victim.”

“and his motive?”

“unknown for now.”

You perked up by that. “do you at least have any solid evidence other than him being the last guy to see him?”

Lington stays silent for a moment, looking back at the scene and undoubtedly trying to ignore you.

“oh my fucking god, Lington.” You pinch the bridge of your nose before rubbing your temples to avoid an oncoming headache. “ Not this shit again .”

“We'll prove everything at court. “ he sighed. “ If he's not the murderer then he’s got nothing to worry about, neither do you.”

“oh yes, and let’s see him leave the court, go back to his radio show and start ruining the already damaged reputation of the incompetent police department! How great!” your voice of sweet malice makes Lington grip his toolbelt. “what a great idea, Captain! Can’t wait to see people shitting on you for this one! Oh I wonder which unsolved case they’ll attack you for next time. Maybe the continuous chain of murders that’s still being committed by the ever-so-mysterious serial killer? Remember how you once accused the son of one of the victims to be the murderer? Remember that buddy? Oh oh! maybe they’ll ask you if you’re linked to the hya-”

“— then what do you suggest we do ?” the question you’ve been meaning to urge out of him is finally released. Your acts of light teasing (bullying) the captain finally bearing its fruit.  He looks utterly enraged, his mind filled with his own insecurities, because you and him both know he’s not fit for his job. And quite frankly, he’s been a miserable failure these days, and has been born in an era where crime is the highest it could ever be.

“Give me three days to solve this.”  Lington frowned at that, fiddling a bit with the car keys on his belt. “I’ll give you two days.”  He huffed.

You stare blankly at him for a moment, then give a small smile and shrug. “fine by me, I’ve always liked a challenge.” Lies. Had it not been a crime, you’d prance at Lington and beat the shit out of him right now for his stone-headed stubbornness. Alas, you must stay in your act. “oh and— free the culprit, will you?” you take a glance at the car with an unscathed, yet amused host sitting at the car with a certain confident pose. The officer who was his designated driver took a breather right beside the car, all with an ice pack on his newly formed black eye.

“Are you serious ? What if he is the murderer? You’re just going to set this loose canon free ?”

“No, of course not.” You think for a moment, looking back at the bakery that remains quiet, with a few officers mucking around looking for further clues. “ There's a kitchen behind the place, right?” Lington hesitantly nods.  “then just set him up there and keep an eye on him until I come in and begin the questioning. Ok?”

Lington keeps his mouth shut, holding back a handful of comments you know aren’t pretty in the slightest.you look back at the witness who was a bit more calmed now, your head forming up a strategy plan as you turn around to begin your walk- yet before you do, another comment leaves your mouth.

“oh and by the way, “ you suddenly take a badge out of your pocket. “stay alert captain, will you?”

Befuddled and shocked, Lington first second guesses the entire situation, his hand instinctively  going up to his chest as he realizes that the badge in your hand, is in fact, his. He snatches the badge from the currently utterly amused you.

“I really hate you L/n. you know that, right?”

“The feeling’s mutual, Captain!”

----

 “Ms.Peterson?”

The brunette, Sasha Peterson looks up at you with confusion, grief over the situation still plaguing her mind it seems. After all, her boss was no ordinary stranger.

“Let me start by saying I’m sorry for your loss.” You sit down next to her, hoping to not stress her out more by standing atop her idly like a looming shadow. “..you must feel very out of place at the moment.”

“ out of place ?” she scoffs, taking a deep breath as she continues to stare at the concrete. “ that phrase is used for when a gal goes to a club for the first time. When they feel embarrassment, when they’re utterly naïve to the world around them. “ The cold wind blows through the streets, making both your coat and her hair dance with the breeze for a moment, and making her clench her blanket with a tighter grip. “ I may be young, but I’m not naïve. And I assure you, detective, that I am in no way embarrassed right now. oh no, I wish I was just feelin’ embarrassed.`` She gulps. “what I feel right now? what I saw this mornin’? it was nauseating. Utterly sickening. It’s- I just- I can’t believe it.”

“hey, it’s ok Miss Peterson, please, take your time.” You pat her back in support, while your other hand searches within your deep pockets for a spare handkerchief. she takes it quickly, though she doesn’t use it right away. She first looks at the clenched handkerchief in grief, holding back a shaky breath and her shoulders shaking from sadness.Yet, it’s to no avail. Drops of water still slid down her eyes and  she tried to catch a few tears that were making a waterfall on her rosy cheeks. “ my father was no innocent soul, I know this. He's always been a bit of a brute and a grump. But when I looked into his eyes? When I saw how the light faded, how his brows weren’t all furrowed like it usually was? I- I just couldn’t take it. I couldn’t comprehend it. All that was going through my mind was just one question. was this all worth it ?”

“What do you mean?”

She hesitates for a moment, fiddling a bit more with the handkerchief before clearing her throat and taking a deep breath.

“he wasn’t just a baker his entire life.” she says. `` he had enemies. More than I could count or know in a lifetime.”

“What exactly was his job before the bakery?”

She goes quiet for a moment, her lips sealed tight. Her eyes dart around for a moment until she finally looks down again, her face emotionless. “I don’t really know. I just know that it was bad.”

One thing you noticed this entire conversation was how she never met your eyes, and how now her tone shifted as well. she first sounded heartfelt, full of spiraling emotion. Yet now she’s as calm as ever, as if she has finally collected her thoughts, or maybe, a realization has struck her.

You hum, letting the silence take over the conversation as you look at the glass panel behind you, observing the crime scene through it.

“it’s fine, miss. You’ve already done enough. '' you get up and give her a reassuring smile. “ I won’t pull on your leg for too long. after all, it’d be cruel of me to force a grieving person to give a full-detailed autopsy now, wouldn’t it?”

She doesn’t say anything back, only looking at you with a pleading expression of sorts, hoping that the case doesn’t end up as an unsolved disaster.

“don’t worry, miss Peterson. I won’t let this case remain a dud. “ you smiled. “After all, it’s my job to unveil the truth. no matter the cost .”

Somehow, her frown has seemed to deepen from that.

----

You were never really fond of radios.

In your life, things such as ‘entertainment’ have always been seen as ‘unnecessary noise’ and therefore they were confiscated from your household before you were even born. Had you ever been curious enough to ask about such confiscations, your father would go on a tangent about how the truth must be discovered by oneself rather than believing hearsay. Especially in a time where the truth is always hidden behind the curtain, where every misery of humanity has become a giant spectacle to gawk at and read about in the newspapers. Therefore, in your current years, you found decent entertainment between books alone and never bothered to buy a radio.

Which, in hindsight, has now become a big issue for you, hasn’t it?

The culprit of your new case, the infamous radio show host Alastor looks at you with incredible amusement and a tinge of disdain. He gives a few glances to the cops circling around him, one youngling newbie holding a notebook with shaky hands while the other with a black eye giving him an ugly stare. He grins at the elder, tilting his head in mock and then looking back at you once more.

“You sure you want to be alone with him?” Lington, who was beside you asked. “there’s a certain look in his eyes that I don’t quite like.”

Curiosity gets the best of you, and you stare deeply into the man’s eyes. Swirls of brown that reek of confidence, of finding joy in this entire fiasco that has been laid upon this sweet bakery. His eyebrows furrow. The only indication you have that he feels at least the slightest bit of negative emotions at the moment. Yet you can’t quite place the very emotion he’s feeling. Was it annoyance? Fear? Perhaps embarrassment from the way you’re just unblinkingly gawking at him?

You switch your stare to Lington. Giving Alastor a time to breathe. “ I get what you mean. but he won’t be honest with me if he thinks I’m working with you guys.” You then rolled your eyes. “ not that I ever wanted to be associated with you in the first place.”

Lington scoffed, tilting his cap down and motioning for the two officers to follow him out.  “well, the floor is all yours, lil’ Sherlock.' ' he glanced behind him, seeing your sitting form beside Alastor’s, who was looking back at him with a cheshire grin.  “tell you what? If he’s innocent then the next coffee’s on me!” he and his colleagues holler in laughter, leaving you groaning in annoyance and clicking your tongue as the door closes.

Silence takes over the room for a moment. You clear your throat and take out your hand.

“the name’s L/n. I’m a detective.”

By the moment you’ve mentioned your name- something in Alastor’s expression shifted. A flurry of emotions that left as soon as they came, leaving you with no real idea of he truly felt at the moment. He tilts his head back a bit, his then small small now becoming a grin, one which you couldn’t decipher what it meant. Warry or shock, it didn’t matter, for Alastor already put up his mask and is not one to show true emotions so easily, you’ve noticed. You could relate to that, in many ways than one.

“oh well isn’t this quite the shocking surprise!'' His voice was somewhat charming. Full of charisma and confidence, announcing things like it’s a show of sorts, like he’s a host of a competition, or to be exact, like he’s a true radio host. “ had it been in any other circumstance other than…well…” his eyes trail to the dimly lit kitchen around him, the sweet aroma making his nose scrunch up a bit in disdain. “ this. I would’ve counted myself quite the lucky man to be running into you!” he balled his hands together and put them on the table, his head leaning down a bit closer to yours. “ you are quite infamous around the city, you do know that, yes?”

Holy shit - you are ? Frankly, you didn’t know that. You try to hide your shock. Shrugging carelessly and looking at your coat’s cuffs as you speak. “oh well, I’m just doing my job.” You put your hands together, placing your chin on top of them. All perfect for your new act. “fame doesn’t really matter to me.”

Alastor’s grin becomes a bit too sinister for your liking. “well of course it doesn’t!” he says with a punch of enthusiasm. His movements suddenly mimicking yours and placing his chin on top of his hands as well, all with a bit more bounce to it as yours, making his glasses tilt a bit with his movements. Yet, he gracefully saves the clumsy glasses’ bounce by leaning his head down a bit, all covering the incident as mere intent. or perhaps it was intentional and you are the one assuming it was an accident?

You couldn’t help but feel your shoulders tense up a bit. not even a minute in and he’s a;ready full of secrets, of locks barricading his every movement and leaving you barely any key to open at least one of them. He’s good . Far too good in this charmful act.

“why, I’m certain you’re quite distasteful towards it all.” he continues. “ after all, you’ve seen the very dark pits of it all. the bitter truth behind those glimmering pearls and shining lights where only rotten desires and pitiful beings lay waste. Controlled by their insecurities.”

“..aren’t you a celebrity too, Mr.Alastor?”

Alastor laughs. “oh heavens no! Most people don’t even recognize me unless I speak to them! Even then, it takes quite some time for them to rattle their mind for a link between my radio show and face.”

“but you’re an entertainer as well, are you not?” your brows furrow. “ You keep people’s attention all on you, their eyes as sharp as ever as they listen to your every word. you hide your true intent behind a radio, leading people to trust in your voice and never letting them see your true face, your true emotions towards a certain subject. “

Alastor slowly sits up straight, his head tilting as he chuckles at your statement. “I’m afraid I’ll have to disagree with you, dear detective.” His attitude shifts, from a carefree confident host to one of more malicious intent, a certain intimidation in his voice and movements that leads you to have more suspicious than before. “for you see, I don’t need to hide my face to make people trust me.” the bravery, the very  audacity to say such a thing in an interrogation room leaves your hair’s on end, yet you do not falter. Just as he is keeping up his act, so do you. you do not shake, do not let out a gasp or break a single second out of your mask. You will not let cracks appear, for you see in his eyes that he’s a hunter at heart, and as soon as he sees an inkling of an opening he will pounce and tear off your skin with his teeth.

“Well then, Mr.Alastor. I’m going to be honest with you- and I hope that  by doing that, you’ll cut the act for a moment and cooperate for at least this interrogation session. You see- I don’t think you’re the murderer.”

Alastor’s eyes widened a bit in intrigue. “And what makes you say that, might I ask?”

You lean back in your chair, your pointer finger tapping the table in thought. “I checked the crime scene before visiting you here. There were a few things that kept muddling my mind. First- is the way Mr.Peterson died. Two gun wounds, one in the head and the other in the chest. Yet, the neighbours said that they only heard two sounds at night. One was an hour before you have been seen leaving, where an elderly staying up for the night reading heard the sound of a car honk and assumed it was Miss Sasha’s boyfriend trying to sneak in to visit her again. the second sound was of Sasha’s scream, right around six a.m. you can guess where I’m going with this.”

“ Why, it is strange how they haven’t heard a gunshot, especially one fired twice.” he hummed.

“yes, and furthermore- The Second reason on why I don’t believe you’re the killer is the footprints I found at the exit door in this very kitchen.” You point to your right, between all the counters and ovens there lies a backdoor entrance. “ the footprints were not only covered in dirt, but from the form, it was obvious that it wasn’t yours..or at least- that’s what my guess is unless- '' you suddenly lean down. After a few moments, you come back up again. “nope,I was right. they weren’t your shoes. The size of that one was much larger. So the idea of you changing your wardrobe during the murder is out of the picture for now.”

Alastor stays quiet for a second. “…you could’ve just asked for my shoe size rather than suddenly trudging down the table, Detective.”

“eh, I’m not really a math guy.” You merely shrugged. “though I know my two points aren’t that strong, merely weak strings of questions that haven’t been answered yet, I just have this gut feeling- something that tells me that although you are an incredibly suspicious man,” his eyes squint at that. “..for this case, at least, you are not the murderer. So, Mr.Alastor,” you clasp your hands together once more and look at him with an inquisitive stare. “is my gut feeling correct?”

He stays quiet for a moment, a smile kept tucked on his face and at this point, you’re certain that smile is glued to him no matter what he does. His shoulder hunch up a bit as he straightens his seat, trying to make himself look taller, filled with confidence. “ I must say, dear detective, you are a strange one.” So he thinks you’re a weirdo now. How great. Well, he certainly won’t be the first in your life that thinks that, nor will he be the last. “but it’s always the strange ones that bring in the most entertaining of shows! Even when it comes to mundane tragedies such as this one.”

Mundane would be the last word you’d use for this, but nevertheless, you stayed qyiet at let him continue.  “so I’ll be the one to quell your feeble worries, detective! you’re correct, I’m not the murderer.” This, makes you sigh in relief. “but, I think I have an idea on who it could’ve been.”

You looked at him confused, suspicious of his sinister energy as he spoke. Before you could utter another word, a sudden screech of wheels from outside catches your attention. You both got up from your seats, though you were more quick and hasty while he walked calmly with his hands behind his back. As you finally reached the entrance of the bakery, you could see a horde of cops round a blonde, scruffy-looking man, who had his hands up in surender, and his face beaten up.

“It’s me! I’m the murderer!” he screamed as he waved his hand up, awaiting his arrest.

“Allan?!” Sasha gasped, trying to find her way out of the hoard of cops to reach him. “Allan, what are you doing—“

“It's the truth, Sasha!” he gulps. Eyes darting between the cops that were just as confused. “ I-I’m the killer! Arrest me right now!”

Seriously, what the fuck is going on? the more you think of this case, the more you’re certain there are clues hiding in plain sight. A chuckle from the man beside you catches your attention, as he looks at the scene before him in pure delight.

“this has become far more entertaining than I could’ve anticipated.” He then glances back at you. “It seems like I was right, detective. you’ve truly made this an interesting story, one perfect for my radio show.”

You merely huffed, getting more baffled by the man beside you the more time passes. You decide to ignore his quip for now, for it’s obvious that this case doesn’t really involve him anymore, and he’s just a mere spectator in this silly mess. Your gaze catches Lington, whom after ordering around a few cops to arrest Allan suddenly comes up to you with an exhausted sigh.

“Well,” he huffed, shocked by the turn of events just like everyone else. “…I guess I owe you a coffee now, yeah?”

------

“This coffee is dogshit.”

In the quiet, garden-themed café, where only a tune of a jazzy broadcast can be heard from the radios, you smirk at Lington’s comment about the mug of coffee in his hand.

“at least it’s better than yours.” You quipped.

Lington gives you a blank stare before sipping a bit more of his coffee and grimacing from the taste. You hummed in the silence, taking a good gulp of your own coffee and relishing the caffeine that courses through you.

“still addicted to coffee, I see.”

“I don’t think  that Allan  kid is guilty.” You ignore his previous sentence. Lington’s frown seems to deepen from that. “ Nor do I think that Mr.Alastor is guilty.”

He gives you a baffled look. “What are you going on about?”

 “three shots.” You said. “when I interviewed him today, he said that he shot Mr.Peterson three times. And when I asked him where specifically he was shot, he went all fidgety and then said he doesn’t quit remember, and that his aim was careless and quick.”

“don’t you think he might be just misremembering things?” Lington tapped his finger at the table in thought. “ afterall, it’s never a pretty sight, you know. watching someone die.”

“it’s exactly because how traumatic this situation was that I’m baffled he doesn’t remember it.” you countered. “ fresh traumatic events never really leave the mind, and it takes  a very long while for someone to misremember this much from the crime. If it was just one little misremembering of  a certain detail, like the time or words that have been said, I would’ve shrugged it off- but it isn’t that, Lington. The things he’s presumably forgetting are important details, information that can get us closer to completing the puzzle.”

“In other words, you think he’s bluffing.”

“precisely.”

“then if it’s not him then, who is it? Miss Sasha?”

You stay quiet for a bit before shaking your head. “it could be. But I don’t think she’ll be too fond of being accused of murdering her own father.” You swing your coffee mug a bit, letting the liquid within it swirl. “there’s also the case of—“

Lington lets out a shriek as hot coffee straight from the pot the waiter walking beside your table was holding spills all over him. the waiter apologizes profusely, all while his left hand shakes and becomes wobbly as he sets the pot down on your table.

“I’m so sorry sir—“ the boy apologizes once again, his messy hair and bags under his eyes underlying his exhaustion. He grabs a few napkins and gives it to Lington, who was still cursing a bit from the heat.

“fuckin’ christ- kid is your oven powered by the sun? this shit is so hot—“

As the two start to stumble while trying to fix the mess that’s been made, you took the time to analyze the waiter. His hands still seemed a bit shaky, though it has calmed down a bit by now. his name tag sparkled between the lights, the name ‘JAKE’ catching your attention almost immediately. His clothes were a complete mess, as if he wore them all in a hurry while opening up the café for customers. He looked to be around Sasha and Allan’s age- a youngling in his 20s.

“Jake! Stop annoying the customers!” a scratchy, grouchy and all in all old voice shouted from the other side of the room. The waiter soon shoves a few more napkins in Lington’s hands as he scurries away, all while promising to give a discount for the coffees you two have been drinking.

Lington huffs in grimace as he looks at the new state of his uniform, stained with coffee that will never wash off easily with just mere napkins. He then quickly looks up at you, his conflicted look switching to hopeful.

“do you still have my old coat with you?—“

“Absolutely not. I burned it a long time ago.”

Lington grumbles. Drinking the last bits of his coffee with his eyes glancing to everywhere but you.

-----------

“sir- we have a problem.”

Not even five minutes away from work and it seems like Lingtons troupe has already become an absolute mess. While others are just doing their jobs and warning the public to not interfere with the crime scene, a few are just standing there, behind the radio host giving him the nastiest stares. Yet Alastor’s back stays unturned and his expression remains unbothered. One could even say delighted .

“Mr.Alastor won’t leave…”

“So now that he’s scott free he’d rather stay ? “ Lington was baffled. “What's wrong with this guy?”

The colleague held back a scowl. “probably everything.”

You watch as Alastor’s eyes quickly land on you, giving you a slight bow of greetings while he ignores the threats and questions being thrown at him. The very act of acknowledging your presence and not theirs leaves the cops grumbling and giving up, leaving to approach their baffled captain who was unsure what to do now. With this in mind, you walk up to the radio host.

“It's a pleasure to see you again, Detective.”

“I've only been gone for half an hour.”

Alastor hums. “Has it really been only thirty minutes?” he glances at the cops, his smile becoming forced and hiding his irritation and urge to scowl. “ These people made it feel like an eternity .”

“well, I can’t argue with that.” You chuckled. “I’ve had my fair share of boredom from them, so I can get where you’re coming from- speaking of which- “ you raised a brow.``why are you still here?”

“Would you like to guess?” he mused, a smile turning into a grin.

You think for a bit, recalling the last conversation you had with Alastor. “…for entertainment?”

“ bingo!” He cheered far too enthusiastically at the crime scene. “ you’re correct detective. I’m here to be entertained. After all, I am a host of  a popular radio show!” a radio show that you don’t know a lick about, nor have you heard anything about it. though, that could be just a problem, after all, you’re not much of a social person. It’s hard to trust people when your job revolves around doubting everyone. “I seek and thirst for entertainment! So of course I’d scour everywhere across town to find and feast on it! the more I find, the more I absorb and relish, the more I can attract eyes and ears to my show!” you won’t lie, his energy is contagious. A bit jarring? Perhaps. But nonetheless his hyped up energy leaves you with  a pump of motivation as well.

“And in any case,” he side-eyed the policemen. “since these people's untardiness has made me become tomorrow’s newspaper headline, I’ll have to take this to my advantage and salvage my reputation. I’m a respectable man of the community, so I can’t  let a paper and misunderstanding ruin my image, don’t you agree, detective?”

“I can see why you’re worried.” You nodded, hands going back to your pockets out of habit.  “Well then, I guess you’re going to stay here till the case is closed, yes?”

He hummed. “That is if the case will end today. “

“oh, don't worry, it will.”

Alastor’s eyes spark with interest. “oh? and why is that, detective?”

“because I already know who the murderer is.” Alastor’s head tilted in intrigue. “ I just need a bit more evidence to prove my claim.”

“is that so?...” Alastor straightened his coat. “then would you have the mercy to tell the ever-so-curious radio show host all about it? I’ll assure you that I’m no snitch.”

You put a finger under your chin and tap your foot, acting like you were truly considering such an offer. “..well..you did say you’re here to be entertained, yes?” you smirked. “then I guess I’ll have no choice but to keep you at the edge of your seat, Dear host. ”

Alastor’s smile, impressively so, widens at that. His eyes spark with delight, amused to find a bit of showmanship between your serious detective façade.

“Well then! I guess you won’t mind me tagging along on this case, yes?”

“I will. Though, only on one condition.”

Alastor nods away. “yes yes- I’ll make sure to put you in a glamorous spotlight as the hero detective-“

“no. no. I don’t need that.” You quickly cut him off.

Alastor looks at you baffled. Somehow confused about your decline at such a tempting offer, a worry that most people like you would have, a fear that captain Lington most definitely has.

“you speak the truth in your show. No glamour, no exaggeration, no lies.”

You expected a sneer, maybe even a scowl and a decline of your condition. For what Alastor said in the confession room was true, you have seen the ugly side of fame, you’ve seen the truth around your cases get tangled in lies and assumptions, you've seen careers of the rotten get bigger while the weak and innocent are left penniless. You’ve had multiple feuds, multiple heartbreaks and too many lawsuits about the entertainment of crime, the entertainment of death. You’d hate to see the culprits in this case in particular fall into any disgrace, especially considering how most of them are normal civilians trying to make ends meet. Yet, Alastor gave a smile- a somewhat genuine and charmed one. Charmed by your answer, it seemed.

“dear,” he said with a breathy chuckle. “ Have you ever listened to my show?”

“no.not really.” You don’t even own a radio to begin with.

“well then, you’ll be assured to know that my show is famous precisely for speaking the truth. Being ‘unfiltered’ as some may say.”

“oh, well then,” you give a goofy smile of your own. “this may be a perfect partnership.”

Alastor nods before adding, “why I believe this is a fated encounter, wouldn’t you agree?.”

“yes.” You couldn’t help but feel comforted by that idea. Fate. “ a fated one indeed.”

----

*Ring!*

The little chimes of the doorbell catches the woman’s attention, turning off the bud of her cigar by pressing it down on the counter and telling her dear gossip friend Emillie that she’ll call later. She sees the two ever-so cartoonishly well-dressed individuals be distracted by the racks of clothing, so she takes this as an opportunity to chew up some gum to annihilate the tobacco smell.

“Welcome to Claudine’s Boutique, where the clothes are neat and the rent ain’t cheap.” Her elbows lean down on her counter, a strand of her curly black hair moving out of the tucked place behind her ear and falling into her face. “what can I getcha’?”

“it’s a pleasure to meet you madame.” You smiled, reaching out for a handshake. “the name’s Detective L/n. “

“oh?” her tone is a bit surprised, as she accepts your handshake and gives you a good-old up and down look. “ never knew Detectives were the fashionista types.”

“Oh no, I’m not here for a wardrobe change.”

Claudine stays quiet for a moment. She looks at your clothes once again then back up to you.  “you sure?”

To that, you give a slightly-offended and more-so embarrassed huff, all the while your new partner in the case, ever the gentleman Alastor seems to lose his façade for a moment and holds back a chuckle from her comment.

“yes. I’m certain .” You clarified. “ I wanted to ask you about Mr.Peterson’s murder that happened last night..you have heard about it, I’m sure.”

“how could I not?” she scoffed. “it’s all everyone’s been talking about today. You can’t even call one friend without hearing the news.” She tucks her lost strand of her away once more. “ this neighbourhood ain't never been a quiet one. And I reckon it never will be. People round’ these parts only care for three things. Money, reputation and drama.” She sighed, before gnawing a bit with the gum in her mouth and continuing once more.

“I’ve grown up around these parts. Never really left the place. Guess it’s all because of that darn curse everyone firmly believes in.”

“curse?”

She looks back at you surprised. “haven't you heard?” her eyes then spark in slight realisation. “hm, well it is your first day on the case. Guess I’m your first bystander for questioning?”

You nod. Claudine hums in thought, hesitating on saying a word until she finally bites the bullet.

“People who start livin’ here all get struck by tragedy in one way or another. Death around here is like a plague with no cure. They say it’s a way to make you stay here forever, to make you cling to the remaining memories of your loved ones.”

“Have you lost someone dear as well, Madame?” Alastor chimed.

Claudine’s mind seemed to be stuck in memory-lane. “my sister.” Was her only answer.soon enough she sighed and continued before even one of you could give your condolences. “ Mr.Peterson was one of the people affected by this curse. And now? his daughter will pass on the curse it seems…poor Mr.Peterson. he may have been…well..not the best neighbour round’ these parts but..he had his soft moments. I can’t help but feel pity for the guy, y’know? He wasn’t always like this.”

“Is his bitter behaviour related to the ‘curse’?”

“Well aren’t you smart?” she deadpanned. “ his wife left him for another man, then died a few years later. Never been the same since.” 

“I see…” you quickly take out a notebook and pencil from your pockets, quickly writing this down while your foot taps the floor. “well, is there anything else we should know?”

“depends.” Claudine smirked. “you gonna buy anything?”

Alastor chuckled. “I like her.”

“if that’s the case then why don’t you buy something then?” you offered.

“oh- heavens no! I already have far too much clothing in my closet that has seen the light of day yet.”

“and I’m not looking forward to dressin’ up him.” Claudine chimed. “mister charmer over here doesn’t need any help with fashion, that’s for sure.” Alastor grinned at hat, confidentiality fixing his bow tie while looking at you all smug. “oh no, I want to dress up you , detective.”

You froze for a moment, the tapping of your foot no longer coherent.

“I- I uh…no thank you?” you failed at giving a proper response. “I’m quite fine with how I look now.”

“you mean scratched up and baggy?” Claudine mused.

“wrinkled and worn out?” Alastor added.

“divorced and in their thirties?”

“common bar customer?”

“chased by a b-“

“OK OK. I get it. I look disheveled.” You grumbled.

“When was the last time you even bought new clothes?” Claudine asked.

You fell silent for a moment, the answer bringing up bittersweet memories in your head. “..uh..a pretty long time ago..I guess…” you went quiet, taking the time to pass away all the memories in your head inside a chest that will not see the light of day for a few more years. “alright fine, I guess I do need new clothes…but the coat stays on!”

Claudine hummed, looking at your form up and down again, yet this time her gaze of boredom was replaced with one of passion. “I can work with that.”

----

Cufflinks of white lace, long sleeves of a light brown all neatly tied with a black bow that replaced your previously messy tie, the wardrobe Claudine picked out made you feel like a child of victorian times who's been meaning to go on a picnic. Your once practical and almost a  decade old shoes (‘they’re sturdy and usable!’ you argued) are now replaced with shiny new black ones, ones that gave you the urge to tap dance and sing in the rain with. Your once comfy pants that were a size too big for comfort’s sake were now replaced with a normal black pants,and as promised, the coat stayed on, though not before Claudine tried to clean it up  a bit with items at hand. (“why don’t you give it to a dry cleaner?” she had asked once while trying to tear off a dirt stain at the ends of the coat . “ never had the time for it.” you shrugged.)

“well?” from his tone, you could sense that Alastor was pleased with the new look. “a penny for your thoughts detective?”

You hummed a bit, toying with the ends of the bow while looking at yourself in the mirror. It felt different, that’s for sure, yet it also didn’t bother you at all.not one bit. you actually quite liked this new outfit, though the bow felt a tad too excessive for a serious job like yours. The outfit defines a new era, a new you, a whole new detective after two years of working without him . a detective that doesn’t need to hide in the shadows of their father no longer. Something felt right about this change, about this new look.

“It ain't half bad.”  You muttered. Claudine scoffed at that.

“ ‘ain't half bad?’ you look like a prince charming now!” Claudine grinned. “not too bad of a job, if I do say so myself.”

 Alastor walks up to you, looking at the mirror and fixing his own bow as his gaze falls upon your form in the mirror. “I must say, the bow suits you.” he mused. “but..there’s something missing. “

You turned around to face him directly rather than the mirror. “and what would that be?”

His smile turns into a grin as he gently grabs your chin and lifts up the ends up your lips. “ a smile!” before you could retaliate he lets go of your now shocked face and  points to his own unshakable grin. “you’re never fully dressed without one.” He winked.

Albeit a bit weirded out, you still give him a small,worried smile. “better?”

“..it could use some work.” He hummed. “but it’s good enough as it is!”

“Good, then,” you take out the notebook and pen from your pickets once more and look back at Claudine. “Let's get back to the case at hand, shall we?”

----

The silence of the streets paired with Lington’s judgmental eyes proves to you that Claudine did an excellent job in her work. Perhaps a tad too excellent.

Knowing that Lington’s stare could last for hours if ignored, you give him a roll of your eyes.

“don’t you have a family at home, officer?” you knew that his gaze was anything but infatuation, yet couldn’t help but annoy him with even the very concept of him liking you.

However, Lington seems utterly unbothered. The only indicator you have of his discontempt is the click of his tongue. “what role are you playing this time, N/n?”

His mutter made you flinch, faltering in your ac a bit before giving him a signature smile.

“Did all that coffee get you drunk, detective? don’t tell me you spilled some ... .what do they call it now? oh right,- ‘ illicit beverages’ - in it.”

“ with the way you keep on changin’ the game? I might as well bring some.” He huffed in exhaustion, in hidden rage. “one minute I think we’re playing checkers, next thing you know it’s actually chess. The minute I want to move my piece I see that the fuckin’ pieces are gone and we’re playing dress up instead.”

“oh? so now I’m banned from buying new clothes too?”

“ just what the fuck are you doing Y/n?” Your jab goes unanswered. ” Why do you always gotta be like this? why can’t you cooperate with me?” with every syllable, Lington’s tone grows more desperate.” why can’t you work with us ?—”

“ — you know damn well why, Lington . ” For a moment, for a singular,almost fleeting moment, your mask is down, and your eyes look deep into his own. Into forgotten memories and broken cases. “ That's the thing. You know everything. You know why. Yet you still have the audacity to ask this, the fucking nerve to accuse me of not doing my work.”

“I don’t see where a change of wardrobe could be benefic—“

“I solved every single case I ever laid my hands on.” you tried to make your voice steady, desperately tried to sound like the usual confident detective you are. Yet your heart couldn’t help but shake, causing your words to waver. “ every single case. Except one.”

Something flashed in Lington’s eye. the gaze of a guilty man.

“and that one? Lington? That one case?” you thanked the heavens for letting you have at least control over the volume of your voice. If not, the shakiness would make people think you’re a broken person with a broken heart. An impostor stuck on a play with no backstage and no exit, with an audience that practically lives in their seats. In this moment, you weren’t a confident detective, you were an abnormally tall child with broken dreams, and a raggedy coat. “ that case haunts me . every . day. ”

Lington looks at you with a mixed expression. horrified, concerned, guilty and ashamed. It seems like the words you s[poke to him had left him with his mouth shut and his head hung in shame. Had it been anyone else, they'd feel pride over the fact that they had shut up a prick like him so well. Yet all you could feel was a deep, uncontrollable embarrassment that you needed to dispose of immediately. You need to leave. now.

“now if you’ll excuse me, Sheriff,” your tone quickly goes back to normal, and your expression once again a bundle of confidence and suave. “I have a poor rookie to annoy with some new details about the case. Details I’ve gotten from a certain seamstress .”

Lington takes one deep breath and groans at that. This time, it seems,that your jab has hit its mark.

----

“so…you’re telling me that Mr.Peterson had dealings with the hyacinth?”

“not just dealings lil’ rookie.” You turn around to him, right before going inside the dainty café you had a bad coffee at. “ he used to work for them.”

The rookie gasped at that, clenching his notepad a little tighter.

“and it wasn’t just him.” you dramatize the situation, enjoying the eagerness the rookie is showing for this case. “no no. the truth is more basic than that. It revolves around one thing only. The very thing that drives humans to do anything and everything all at once.”

“W-what's that?...”

You open the door. the cafés bell rings. “ love .”

“ Welcome to—... .oh,…” Jake, the employee without realising it, has done you a favour and threw coffee at the guy you hated most in this world, looking at you with a mix of dejection and hesitance. As if he didn’t want you to come back. “…back for more coffee, detective?”

You held back a wince from the mentioned coffee, looking around the room to spot a certain figure. When you see him, you're glad to know that he’s already charmed up the man you were supposed to interrogate.

“no no, just here to sit next to a friend.” You point to Alastor before grabbing the distracted rookie (from what he was exactly distracted by, you weren’t sure.) and  ignoring the scorching gaze Jake was giving you.

The man behind the counter, an old barista with hands so quick you don’t even notice the glass he’s pouring the espresso in, was talking with Alastor with such glee and enthusiasm that one could almost forget that he was the same guy mere hours ago, angry and giving strict orders to his son for the little mistake he did.

Alastor's posture straightened as he saw your figure approach. “oh, there you are!” he then looks at the barista. “This is the friend I was talking about, Mr.Finch.”

He inspects you for a moment, his gaze hanging on your coat for a bit too long before he cleans his hands with a rag and holds it out to shake. “Well, any friend of lil’ Alastor here is a friend of mine.” He grins.” A pleasure to be meeting you.”

“likewise.” You shook his hand in return, an amused look taking over you as you looked back at the gentleman in red drinking his coffee. “it’s an honour to meet one of the friends of the ever so infamous Lil’ Alastor.” If you hadn’t had sharper ears, you would’ve missed the small grunt Alastor made as he choked on his coffee, trying his best to seem unbothered. He gives you a teasing glance, setting the espresso cup down and leaning back a bit as he listens to Finch’s hollered laughter to your comment.

“ I hope ya don’t think it’s from mockery, Detective.” he leans his shoulder on the counter, looking at Alastor like a proud uncle. “Lil’ Alastor and I know each other from church. Boy was I used to seeing this rascal glued to his mother no matter what.” He shook his head, nostalgic eyes stuck staring at the counter. “say,” he looks back up to Alastor again. “How's the church doin’ son? Any good news?”

“oh?” Alastor tilts his head in curiosity. “you don’t visit the church either,Mr.Finch?”

“guess were both sinners now, ey?” Finch jokes, yet Alastor merely hummed.

“Well, you can’t blame a child for not visiting church in his elder years.” Alastor replied. “After all, I was just there because my dear mother loved taking me with her.”

“Guess you’re right.” Finch shook his head, motioning for you to sit down. You of course obliged.

“Espresso or latte?” he asked.

You hesitate. Your mother’s sweetly saccharine voice echoes through your head. Still remember what he always ordered no matter the consequence.

“espresso, please.” You preferred latte.

“another espresso lover, eh?” he joked.” Say- how did you even meet lil Al’ over here?”

“We actually just met.” Alastor mused.

“ seriously ?”

“yep.” You nodded. “ Mr.Alastor over here was being accused of Mr.Peterson’s murder.”

Finch flinched, his quick and proficient movements of coffee-making artistry coming to a halt as he listened.  Therefore, you continued. “He was unfortunate enough to be the last customer he had that day…and hadn’t it been for the murderer stepping in to confess to the murder, he might as well have been behind bars.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Finch then speaks. “…and who was the murderer?”

“his daughter’s boyfriend, it seems.”

*CLANK!! *

Everyone’s head shifts to the noise, and a wide-eyed, left-hand shaking Jake looks back. first at you, then at the mug, then at Alastor but soon his eyes switches to Finch once more.

“ Jakey —“ Finch grumbled. “how many times do we gotta go through this? be a little more careful!”

“sorry…” Jake mumbled, obviously used to such a scolding. He takes a breath and cleans up. Soon, the atmosphere shifts back into normalcy and Finch starts telling silly tales he has about his church days and his hard time with coffee-brewing at the start of his career. Something about his family all having the same tick of having ‘shaky hands’ whenever stressed, passed down through generations.

As the atmosphere quieted and your espresso gave you a bitter boost, your eyes lingered on two framed pictures right beside the coffee brewers.

Two young men, smiling while pushing each other around. On their jackets, a certain pin caught your attention.

“whose that?” rookie pointed to the other  picture curiously.

“oh, this?” Finch picked it up, looking at it with a perplexed gaze before setting it on the counter for everyone to see.

“It's our family.” He simply stated. “ me, my son jakey, and…my wife Linda.”

Something in your brain clicked. The wife. Linda. She looked awfully familiar.

She resembled Miss Sasha.

----

Fathers are complicated beings.

Parenthood is difficult. You must be emotionally open about your own feelings to understand the child’s. and for most men who have repressed their emotions for decades, such a thing becomes far too difficult to understand. Which is why they made excuses, why they claim that their responsibility merely revolves around working outside the house, to gain enough money to buy weekly essentials and pay the rent. Most fathers fear emotional connection so badly that they’d rather stay in a dead-end job rather than trying to reason with a crying child. Trying to understand why they’re so deeply saddened by such a simple thing. Something that they’d get punished for liking, let alone crying for it.

Your father was different. He was worse.

He saw you as the next heir to the family’s work. The next-in-line that must be trained no matter the cost. So rather than ignoring your needs and hobbies, he berated you for them if they were anything unrelated to detective work. If it’s not chess or puzzles, then don’t play it. if it’s not a mystery book, then don’t read it. Why are you crying? Crying is for the weak. Crying is for the confused. We’re not ignorant, that’s why we’re never allowed to live in bliss.

Safe to say, your relationship with your father has always been…complicated. To the point where you’re not even sure how you feel about him. let alone how you feel about his death.

Perhaps that’s why you knew exactly who the culprit of this case was the moment you locked eyes with them.

“alright, spit it out L/n.” Lington looked at you with annoyance. “ Why'd you make me bring these youngsters here? " especially one that’s still grieving.”

Sasha looked away. Allan took her hand in his.

Ever the nosy, Alastor also stayed behind quietly, leaning on the counter. He shared a knowing look. It seems like he cracked the case as well. ‘ of course he had’ you thought. ‘ This  murder case is simple. The most tragic cases always are.’

The only reason you decided to walk around the street and ask around was so you could get the whole picture, so you could understand things from the murderer's point of view. What kind of pressure were they in, what drove them to do such a thing? Because for this case in particular, you know that the murderer in question is no derived psychopath, nor are they someone out for blood-filled revenge.

They were just a simple baker tired of their cage.

“Let's go over this one more time,” you put your hands in your pockets, walking around in circles as the gears in your head churn and your mind sets up a small play.” The neighbours say they heard two sounds that night. The first one happened right after Mr.Alastor left, so as you know, Alastor is out of the list.”

Alastor nods in delight. “Thank you, my dear.”

“Then, all was quiet in the bakery. As Miss Sasha noted, she went back up to get some rest while his father stayed down and cleaned the place up…but that’s where you lied. Miss Sasha”

“what?”

“the neighbours said they heard a car honk. But they weren’t appalled by it because they’re used to it. your boyfriend Allan was there to pick you up, wasn’t he?”

Sasha’s eyes darted around nervously. “I…”

“That's why he immediately came here and confessed to the murder, even though no paper or radio has even talked about it yet. After all, this seems like a dead-end case, doesn’t it? all the clues are random, the only suspect they had was the unfortunate last customer, and the captain was a huge buffoon who accused anyone on the street of being the murderer just so he can get to go home sooner!”

“hey now that’s—“

“ BUT you got unlucky,” You continued with more enthusiasm, ignoring Lington’s defense. “ You see, you didn’t think that an experienced Detective would take a look at this case, would even bother to solve it..and you’re right. I really wouldn’t have. The only thing I would’ve bothered to do was convince Lington that Mr.Alastor isn’t the murderer -which I did - and then leave. But…while inspecting the body…” you take out a pin from your pocket. The purple on it shining bright. the shape resembling one of a hyacinth flower. “I noticed this, right inside Mr.Peterson’s apron.”

Jake,who was awfully quiet the entire time, gulped. Sasha took a deep,stressful breath while Allan put his head down in shame. Lington, on the other hand, seemed visibly shaken. All while Alastor merely tilted his head in curiosity and amusement.

“The hyacinths are infamous for giving out these pins to all its members.” You state. “ there are a lot of fakes out there…so the hyacinth’s made sure to add something subtle yet visible enough to point out the real from the fakes.” Despite all the protests from Sasha, you scrape the pin against the glass counter. An eerie sound fills the room for a moment until you’re finished. The glass counter has a scratch, yet the pin remains unscathed. “The centre of the pin,” you tapped it. “ it’s made from actual amethysts.”

“couldn’t you just prove that by putting it under a direct light?!” Jake protested, eyes furrowed in pure annoyance by your antic.

“Meh,thought I could prove my point better this way.” You shrugged. “Also this was funnier.”

While everyone grumbled in response to that, Alastor merely chuckled.

“moving on. Yes, this is the real deal. Which means, whatever happened here, might’ve been caused by the hyacinth. Or at least- that’s what my hunch was at the start. So, knowing that Sasha here was lying to me about  a few things, and Allan was so gullible that he didn’t even know how many times he shot Peterson, I knew something else was afoot. Which- this leads us to one of the main questions of the day. How did no one here the gunshot?” you point to the pin. “well, this is your answer.”

“huh?” Allan said in pure confusion. “am-am I the only one that doesn’t get what’s going on here?”

Everyone stayed quiet.

“shit. I am?!” he gasped. “How is the pin related to the noise exactly?”

“the hyacinth,” you looked at him sympathetically. “Are infamous for their ‘game-changing’ equipment. Their silent guns. It’s the reason why they stayed on top for so long. just like the pins, only members of the gang would ever be equipped with these. Mr.Peterson’s own gun was found under the cashier counter, probably stored there for whenever a robbery happens. But that leads to the next question. whose gun was this?”

You point to Jake.

“That was exactly answered when I visited your café. The second framed picture, the one Finch didn’t show…two men were on it, both with the hyacinth pins.” Jake couldn’t help but sigh at your words. “ it was pretty easy to connect the dots…especially after considering what Miss Claudine told me at my visit. “

“according to her, two hyacinth members one day fell in love with the same girl and dropped everything to be with her. It’s an action that led to obvious misfortune. Ah- before I continue…how old are you Jake?”

Jake hesitated for a moment before answering. “nineteen.”

“And you, Miss Sasha?”

“….twenty-three.”

You snap your fingers in realization. “so, Linda, whom I assume is the girl in the old rumours, chose Mr.Peterson. They had a simple life together, and I’m guessing Finch couldn’t just turn back and start over again, not when he has just started a new business and bet everything on it. and so, they stood head to head in business, while awkwardly avoiding each other outside of work hours. a pretty simple story, yes? But, something was unaccounted for. You see, Mr.Peterson had… a bit of an anger problem. Something that, I’m sure Linda has become fed up with and got a divorce. And so, she went to the only person she could trust, while also being able to keep an eye on her daughter’s safety. You can all guess what happens next.”

“this, leads us to one common knowledge about the Peterson family that everyone in the neighbourhood knows about. Peterson was incredibly protective of his daughter. Especially ever since Linda’s mysterious death. Which, leads us to motive.” You look back at Sasha. “Miss Sasha, your father didn’t approve of your relationship with Allan, did he?”

“...is this information really necessary? There’s a reason why I didn’t mention it.”

“did you not mention it because it’s unnecessary or..did you not mention it because it gave you a motive ?”

Sasha stays quiet. All eyes settle on her.

“listen, I won’t force anyone to over-share their private information, nor would do I want to go into details about the other rumours I heard from Miss Claudine…like I’ve said before, whether I was here or wasn’t, wouldn’t have mattered. Because in the end, no matter how long it would've taken, the truth would be revealed. Some detectives would scroll through all the unsolved cases in the cabinets and immediately figure out who the murderer was. so, it's best to come out now with whatever parts of the truth you want to be revealed, rather than being forced to say every single detail of it and perhaps even getting a longer sentence for having it remain hidden for so long. “

Jake, who was visibly shaking, came closer to you as an act of intimidation. “Now you listen here, ‘detective’.” His tone was as shaky as his hands were. “ you don’t know the shit we’ve been through. And you don’t need to know. I swear if you keep pressing on about this I wil-“

“It's over, Jake.” Sasha’s voice was cold, exhausted from the world around her. “We've been caught. It’s over.”

Jake stays quiet. His breath heavy and tears threatening to fall.

“…our mother was… complicated .” Sasha spoke solemnly. “ she lived a completely sheltered life..to the point where she never noticed those red flags my father possessed ...which is why I didn’t want to turn out like her. I didn’t want to sit around waiting in a small  bakery like she did. Living my life with naivety until my father decided who he should marry me off to..so..I used to sneak out a lot in my life..which...led to a lot of unsavory fights and threats…at some point, I just couldn’t handle it anymore. I mean- the man wouldn’t even let me continue my studies at least. He wanted me to stay here forever, continuing the business till the day he dies…so…I took the matter into my own hands and sealed his fateHe won’t let me go till he dies, right? well, I’ll just push the grim reaper a lil bit, force him to take my father’s life sooner than what god has planned.”

“but I knew that if I killed him, it would be too obvious..so I needed someone else to shoot the gun instead someone people would’ve never suspected, someone who would remain unseen…that’s when both Jake and Allan offered to shoot for me…I didn’t want to put any of them at risk, but I knew that if I wanted to be free, I had to take up their offer and choose between them. I couldn’t possibly choose Allan, because the neighbours would obviously assume he was the murderer right from the start. How many times have we heard the same story ? ‘loverboy kills unapproving parents to get to the love of his life? ’”

“oh, those stories are always a bore.” Alastor quipped.

“but Jake? No one outside the neighborhood knew my relationship with him. and I was certain that no cop would look that deep into it..not if I acted completely clueless and kept my mouth shut. Of course, I didn’t mean to immediately kill him at first…that was plan B. the original plan was to convince him to let me leave. Allan brought the car, I packed my luggage and soon after the first customer left, I told him everything. He of course blew up. started shouting out nonsense while beating the hell out of Allan…I panicked and called Jake, telling him to come over immediately through the exit…right at that moment he was tending to the small garden at the cafés backyard.”

“hence the dirt-covered footprints..” Lington mumbled.

“It all went by so quickly…one moment, Jake was rushing into the café with a gun…the next, he shot my father twice. One accidentally on the shoulder, the other right above his head to seal the deal.”

“then, I saw you two at the café.” Jake continued. “I knew that you being there meant bad news…but I just..didn;t know what to do. hell I didn’t even know what exactly happened. Only that you were looking deeper into the case. It was at your second visit that I finally realised what was going on..but...”

“It was too late.” You concluded. “and with that, this case is closed .”

----

“I…I don’t get it detective.'' The rookie looked frustrated and deeply confused. “why didn’t Miss Sasha just shoot Peterson in the shoulder and make a run for it? why was she so certain she had to kill him?”

“…we’ll never know.” you shrugged. “but...when you see someone so sure about killing their own caretaker…imagine what the caretaker must’ve done to force them to take such leaps.”

Rookie stays  quiet at that, scribbling everything down so he could write it all in a coherent page later for the station. You leave him be, leaning back at the wall, watching both Sasha and Jake get under handcuffs and ushered into the cars. You take a mental note to talk to Lington later about somehow helping them get a convenient sentence. Perhaps with a few pulled strings you both can convince the judge to send both Sasha to work at an elderly shelter, and for the main murderer, Jake, you can perhaps call up a few pals that can offer him protection. Though…that won’t be of much help. It’s the best you can do.

Something about that frustrates you.

This entire case’s conclusion, frankly, has been nothing but frustrating. Yet, you of all people know how bitter some truths can be. And the consequences of it aren't any less sweeter.

“What's befuddling your mind  this time, Dear Detective?” the ever so confident and cheerful voice of Alastor snaps you out of your thoughts. “you seem quite exhausted.”

“ really ? That’s a shocker.” You scoffed, taking a deep breath as you try to let the exhaustion in your body fade away. Silence overtakes the place for a moment, a serene one that makes you gaze up at the now darkened sky. It’s when you see the stars that you realize that you’ve been out working for an entire day and you can feel your exhaustion flowing back in once more, as if it was never gone in the first place.

“I must say,” Alastor chimed in. “This story’s ending was quite…well, uneventful . Shocking, yes. But not the climax I was expecting.”

“…I was thinking the same thing,” you confessed. “but, that’s the truth with most cases.” your hands went into your pocket, gently touching the hyacinth pin in your hand. “ it’s not always like those dramatic antics that Sherlock Homes or Hercules Poirot find themselves in…don’t get me wrong, it does happen. Just…not as much.”

“Guess it’s my unlucky day.” Alastor grumbled, you couldn’t help but smirk.

“well, you should've known that today was bad news for you the moment you got accused of murder, Mr.Alastor”

Alastor was quiet for a second, a strange smile on his face. “…I guess I should have.” He swiftly turns around to you, the scenery that he was watching before it seemingly far too boring for his tastes now. “any good host of a radio show would know to dramatise the situation just to keep his audience's ears glued to the radio. “ he then sighed, a mischievous smirk on his face. “but I am a man of my word detective. I will say nothing but the truth, no matter how bitterly boring it can be.”

“thank you, Mr.Alastor.” you give him a genuine smile. “I hope you weren;t too bothered by following me around.”

Alastor gives a small smile on his own. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out a card and extending it to you. “Why, it was an absolute pleasure to be around you, my dear.” His eyes squint. “ I can sense that you have a deep sense of showmanship. You’re a fellow entertainer when you need to be. You just remained serious because the situation needed it. this part of your story was anything but a comedy, and you’ve accommodated to it wonderfully.”

“Color me charmed.” You mused, taking the card and inspecting it. His radio-show’s title was right at the center, his own name written beneath it in cursive.

“It would be a pleasure to have you listening in for tomorrow morning.” He then adds,” especially since you’re the very star of the show, my dear.”

You lock eyes with Alastor. Something beneath those brown irises intrigue you, something behind the charmfull act he’s putting on. He's right, you both are merely actors on a stage. Both filling in your roles to continue the show destiny has written for you. And something tells you that this won’t be the last time you’re meeting him. nor do you want it to be the last time.

“…I’ll think about it.” you bought a radio on your way back home that very night.

---A/N-----

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MY GOD OH MY GOD IM ALIVE HIIIIII

Ok before I yap for a few paragraphs lemme just say THAT THERE WILL BE MORE CHAPTERS WITH MUCH MORE ALASTOR INTERACTIONS I PROMISE. I JUST FELT LIKE THIS CHAPTER WAS NECESSARY BECAUSE IT’S BASICALLY AN INTRODUCTION TO EVERYTHING THAT IS ABOUT TO GO DOWN. IT’S A PROLOGUE FOR EVERYTHING AND I PROMISE THERE WILL BE MUCH MORE SHENANIGANS AND WAY MORE FUN CASES IN THE NEXT CHAPTER!!!!!!!!!!!

This was my first time ever writing a detective story, and obviously it has a few flaws. I would love any sort of thoughts and criticism on how to improve it. Though, do keep in mind that this story is more about relationships than it is mystery solving.The cases we’ll look through will be mere vessels for the deeper story, an incredibly complicated plot about two incredibly mentally ill and weird people finding themselves sickeningly obsessed. This is merely the beginning, and I cannot wait to see how you’ll all react when all the gears are set into place, and the angst machine starts working.

I’m planning on only having around three to give chapters related to the ‘human’ side of the story. Because yes, a little spoiler: a lot of the plot will be written down for after their deaths. But before that I decided that I must write the human part first, because without it the emotional weight of it all will be gone.

IF YOU SEE ANY PRONOUN TYPOS WHERE I WRITE SHE/HE RELATED WORDS RATHER THAN KEEPING IT GN FOR Y/N PLS TELL ME I'LL FIX IT IMMEDIATELY RAHHHH

COMMENT PLS PLS COMMENT PLS PLS PLS *gets shot*

#alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #x reader #reader insert #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x you #hazbin hotel x reader

[chirpsythismorning]

With Birthdaygate pretty much confirmed, here are two moments from 4x02 Vecna's Curse that hit different...

(1) First we have Jonathan stopping Will as he goes into Rink-O-Mania to tell him something. Will turns around quickly and almost looks, dare I say, hopeful?

But why would that be the case? Unless of course there's something Will's waiting for Jonathan to say, that he hasn't said yet? Happy Birthday perhaps? Surprise Will! We didn't forget your birthday! We're coming in! We have a party planned and everything! Meet you inside! (interesting that there were birthday decorations in there as well...)

Unfortunately, all Jonathan does is tell Will that they'll be back to pick them up at 6:00. And so Will goes from sad, to hopeful, only to go back to looking sad again...

I think a lot of fans attributed Jonathan's concerned looks in this moment as him knowing about Will's feelings for Mike. And I do still think that's present, especially as he's telling Will they'll be there to pick them up later. In that specific moment he sounds sympathetic like Sorry buddy, that sucks.

However, the look Jonathan makes after Will turns away, as Argyle starts driving off, doesn't look like sympathy or pity from someone witnessing unrequited love. It looks like confusion and almost deja vu being experienced by Jonathan himself. As if he's forgetting something, but doesn't know what it is...

(2) Next is at the very end of Will and Mike's fight. Mike sort of echoes the same level of frustration he had during their rain fight, when he said It's not my fault you don't like girls. We know the scenes parallel each other, and how after both of those things are said, there's this silence that takes over, making clear that this is as far as they can go, otherwise they might risk hurting each other beyond fixing. We see both of them make faces of deep emotion here, because they probably are also being reminded of their fight last summer.

And so Will's options here were to, either (A) take it even further and risk hurting Mike more than he's hurting him, or (B) just don't say anything and let the argument end there before it gets beyond repair.

But the thing is, it almost looked like Will was going to say something. He quite literally mouths the word But-- only to cut himself off all together, looking defeated.

Here's what I think. THIS would have been the perfect moment for Will to say, But, you forgot my birthday, Mike. If it was genuinely something as simple as Mike and everyone simply forgetting and needing a reminder, without any supernatural implications involved, I think this would have been the moment to do it.

It would have also mirrored their rain fight even better because it would have been Will saying something and likely walking away, leading to Mike being like OH SHIT I have to fix this! I messed up.

But we all know it's not that simple.

As far as Will knowns, EVERYONE forgot his birthday, not just Mike. And so him calling out Mike here, might have felt slightly unjustified in that it wasn't just him who forgot.

It's almost like they're not the problem here, he is. (WILL POV ANGST)

That's what truly makes the scenes at Rink-O-Mania so heartbreaking. Because it wasn't just about Mike and El ignoring him, it was the fact that it was his literal birthday. All the most important people in his life, who used the literal memory of his birthday to bring him back bc they cared about him so much in the past, have now apparently forgot about him in the present.

Not to mention, the story not blatantly acknowledging his birthday being forgotten in the narrative of s4, means that it was framed this way bc the whole point was they only wanted it to be hinted at in s4, saving it as a surprise revelation in s5.

And so, if Will did say here, but Mike, you forgot my birthday, how would that have impacted the conflict in s4 and Vecna's plan as a whole, specifically for Will? All it would have taken was them connecting the dots after that, figuring out Vecna's plan before he could even reach Will, rendering s5 plotless?...

S5 is likely going to jump right into this, there's too much incriminating evidence about unused footage at the Rink-O-Mania location. It also fits with them not mentioning it in s4 if it's intended to be an early s5 revelation.

TBH with all the storylines going on in s4, them exploring the depths of Will's connection to Vecna just wasn't an option, bc they wouldn't have been able to do it justice. He needs to be front and center for that.

They're clearly saving the best for last...

#byler #<- target audience #stranger things #will byers #birthdaygate #stranger things 5 #st5 predictions #rink o mania #unused footage gate #vecna vision #will getting vecna'd #this also explains them just focusing on byler buildup in s4 #if a lot of s5 going to be filled with angst and revelations behind all these hidden truths going way back to the beginning #it's really good we got these moments in s3-4 that sort of show they are struggling but always come back to each other #and how that is always a constant for them no matter what #it's going to make them defying all the odds against them in s5 that much more epic #also vecna knows will pretty well... #he probably knows will is the kind of kid that if everyone in his life he forgot his birthday #he wouldn't say anything bc clearly that's a sign he is a burden (mistake) #like... that's the whole point #he is too humble to make ppl feel bad in this scenario #when he's taking it as a sign he's unloveable #like it hurts a lot but #that's will byers for you

[syncogon]

fun fact: miqin mubei, face obscured, is the second named character to appear in the entire show. yes he appears all the way in episode 1

#young blood #大宋少年志 #synco talks #ding er posting on main again #HE'S SO EXTRA AND FOR WHAT #i'm so unwell over this i can't even put it into words #he was always there! just as the truth - hidden but always there #one of the last scenes filmed is the first scene shown #in his next onscreen appearance he's a completely different character. filmed earlier back when his story was different #the shot is so subtle! so blink-and-you'll-miss-it! who's going to remember this forty episodes later! it's a treat for the rewatchers #and it doesn't even matter except it DOES and i'm unwell. #pretty sure this is the only time cherries appear in this show. the bright scarlet against the muted colors. #plucking the stem and loosing the arrows #anyway i'm going to write my fic and we'll see how much of this energy i can balance against 'two parallel generals facing war horrors' vib #literally the only difference between this and ep 42 is the color grading. ep 1 is just ep 42 if the heroes failed #watch them side by side and - aughh #it all begins and ends at qichuan village. brb crying #ybq is wearing the same armor bc he has Issues #mqmb is wearing the same armor bc ... ? #the first scene of the whole damn show is qinqi and you tell me this is a rarepair come on <- me being delusional

[queenlucythevaliant]

So much of Christian faith is about sitting with tensions. Here's one:

God wants our minds and He created our ability to reason in His own image. He created through discoverable means. He inspires us towards science, philosophy, archeology, math. He wants our questions. He wants us to search Him out and to keep finding Him in creation, in logic, in study. If our faith is just based on dogma, it will be a rigid, fragile thing. We ought to be convinced of what we believe.

And yet you can't logic your way to God. You aren't going to be able to prove His existence scientifically, philosophically, archeologically, or mathematically. If you try, you'll either talk yourself out of faith or give yourself false certainty. If you try too fervently, there's a not-insignificant chance you'll basically end up overconfidently asserting an obviously bunk conspiracy theory, which is its own kind of dogma. In the end, faith is just faith. In the absence of proof, who do you say that Jesus is?

For me, at this stage of life, it all comes back to epistemology. God is the final Truth and the giver of all lesser truth. Study and reason can lead me closer to him, but at the end of the day I'm left with a binary choice. Is God who He says He is? Do I believe Him? Yes or no? And that choice is all just bold, unsubstantiated faith, baby.

#there's this fear in the back of my heart that if God is the arbiter of Truth he may just not be revealing key info ya know? #it comes back to a false certainty that I got from a former pastor #about what understanding the Bible does and doesn't promise us in eternity #i am having to learn to be okay with limited knowledge #not just in the moment (i can always learn more) but in eternity (there's a limit to what i can know) #and then i see a lot of people overcompensating in other ways #like. I've seen people say with conviction 'no you can totally prove that God exists scientifically ' #no you can't #otherwise we wouldn't need faith #there's certainly beautiful compelling evidence for God's existence and His character in science but dude I'm sorry #you're never gonna be able to prove it #and it frusterates me when some folks are like 'you totally can though' #God is immanant and transcendent #He's entirely obvious and yet entirely hidden #and yeah it frustrates and frightens me #and i end up playing both sides of this argument in different communities #which is an added frustration #Christianity is about learning the tension ya know? #pontifications and creations #all truth is god's truth #only thou art holy

[nkogneatho]

𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐌𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓

—cw: rough, blowjob, degrading nicknames, hair pulling, tie leash, fem!reader

—a/n: this came into existence after i watched the new episode and i realized this mf is insane and actually has some wild ass kinks

you hated how the world pictured kento. he wasn't just some bored and tired man who hates his job. he was more than that. he was insane. if only there was a way to show them that.

"On the knees." Nanami ordered, the cheetah print tie circling around his big, rough hand.

You did what he asked to. Not that your body had a privilege to betray your lustful brain and deny. He wrapped his tie against your neck and secured it with a distanced but tight knot. Tight enough to yank when needed. You couldn't meet his eyes in embarrassment, maybe a little fear too. This was a side he kept hidden to the world, only portrayed if he either loved them or wanted to kill them.

"Take my cock out, my sweet slut." Your fingers struggled to unbuckle his expensive belt. He wouldn't help, you knew it. Once you got the metal out if it's loop, you aimed for the buttons, then the zip. Your sweet fingers dug through his underwear to find his cock. It felt so big in your hand always, and it wasn't even completely hard yet. You started giving it slow pumps and heard him curse under his breath. you waited for his next command, for him to tell you what to do but it never came. Instead what came was a hand that cupoed your jaw, forcing you to lock eyes with him.

"I'm going to use this beautiful face as my cocksleeve, yeah? You'd let me, right?" Your core wet, your mind hazy at his words. He didn't need to ask. You know it was just a formality and a dessert that came with the gentleman personality. But he was anything but a gentleman in the bedroom. Calling you names. Using you to his satisfaction. But he knew you liked it because he's the one feeling your pussy tighten when he calls you a "slut."

Nanami's hand traveled to the back of yiur hwad where he grabbed a fistful if your head. You gulped in preparation about what had to come. You opened your mouth and Kento slammed his dick inside you. It slid fast through your tongue but you could taste the hint of his precum.

"Fuck. So good for me," he said, beginning to thrust. "You like when I fuck my frustrations on you." You did. "your mouth is my cumdump, right? you're such a good little slut who always sucks my anger out of me." People out there constantly think how is he always so calm. He's not. The truth is here. He comes home and fucks his anger away. And you count yourself lucky to be his fucktoy because holy shit, the way he fucks you makes you feel like you've found heaven on earth. It's sinister. The darkness in his eyes. They consume you. But ironically, the pleasure that he gives you can only be compared with heaven.

"Shit! I am close—sss agh!" he felt the back of your throat vibrate which sent excitment down his balls. "fuckfuckfuck" he cursed as he yanked your hair back to look at your doe eyes. Soon, he caught up to his high and all you could make for a sound was consumed by his thick load shooting deep inside your throat. He was so deep you didn't even get to taste them. Nanami pulled out, the remaining beads of his cum lacing your lips.

"Such a good little slut. my exclusive cumslut," he cooed running his thumb over your lips, glistening with your sakiva mixed with his released. "ready for me to fuck your brains out, fuckdoll?" Like you'd ever say no.

#nanami smut #nanami x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #tw.degradation

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

Can you do headcanons for a young child reader who constantly follows jax around, loves physical affection, and thinks jax is their 'dad'?

(Obviously this request is plantonic, not romantic!)

I think I might've went a little overboard with this one! Way longer than most of my posts but I guess that isn't really a bad thing ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Jax unwillingly becomeing a parent

★ His first and only question was how the hell did a four year old get in this situation. The headset should have been way out of reach for you. Questions that will never be answered, I guess.

★ After making you cry the first time he spoke to you he tried to steer clear of you. That worked out horribly because you seemed to want to always be near him. Much to everyone's confusion.

★ "oh my! Looks like the little one has taken an interest in you!" Was Cain's response to seeing you huddled up near Jax. At some point he gets a child harness to keep you in his line of sight. It's just easier this way.

★ By the way he didn't mean to make you cry, he just didn't know how young you were and said something he would've said to an adult. Kids cry easily, what are you gonna do?

★ Jax stole a few pillows from Kinger for you to sleep with. Yes, you don't technically need to sleep but he's not going to tell you that. Nap time is one of the only times he can get a moment to himself.

★ He gets beyond pissed when you get woken up during nap time. To the point where he's barely keeping it together and wants to beat whoever woke you up with a chair leg.

★ If you want to be picked up, then he's picking you up. It doesn't matter if he's talking to somebody or doing something. You'll get picked up while he's doing something and without missing a beat he'll continue like nothing happened.

★ Instead of giving you the usual Jax treatment, he just tells you the most outlandish lies while trying to convince you that they are true. Sometimes he tells you something true so you don't question his bullshit.

There's a list of things he's told you!

If you push down on Ragatha's nose it will make a honking noise.

There's a secret room hidden in a closet filled with veggies for people who are allergic to meat.

Birds aren't real.

When he was your age he was a year older. (It took you a moment to figure that one out)

Caine is the tooth fairy.

★ Jax isn't known for his empathy, but he does feel conflicted when you talk about small details from your life before meeting him. What color your house was, the lullabies your mother sang and the books you used to be read. It all makes him think.

★ You're family might be looking for you, not knowing where you are and that you're trapped. Do you even realize this? They probably think you're dead, that something terrible happened to you. Those thoughts make his stomach sink.

★ If he cares about you this much he can only imagine the grief your family feels. You will forever be a blissfully ignorant child not knowing the truth of what's really going on.

#the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus fandom #the amazing digital circus x reader #the amazing digital circus jax #tadc #tadc x reader #tadc jax #tadc headcanon #tadc fanfiction #jax #jax x reader #jax fanfiction #digital circus jax

[crystalflygeo]

Mark of an Archon ft. Venti / Zhongli / Ei / Focalors / Nahida / Neuvillette + gn!reader

cw/tags: Mostly suggestive but nsfw in some parts (mostly Zhongli, Neuvillette) marking, kissing.

notes: Alright so... this is different from anything I've written before but I got inspired by the concept of the elemental symbols used as marks by the Archons to denote those important to them. Just short fluffy little dabbles I guess, first time writing everyone except the dragon men heh. I tried REALLY HARD to keep this gender neutral and be inclusive in descriptions but regardless, reader bottoms lmao. Hope y'all like it. (Y'all will NEVER guess where did I get the inspiration for all the marks' placements hehe) Edit: Y'all I have never played obey me WHEEZE the marks placement actually comes from a very old magical girl anime I loved as a kid XDDDD (except geo, it was on the belly button but-//hit)

It is said that the Archons place a mark on the body of their loved ones. A symbol of protection, perhaps of “ownership”, imbued with their elemental energy. Legends has it that they remain mostly invisible to the naked eye, glowing brightly only when the Archon in question touches it, but leaving behind a distinctive trace able to be identified with elemental sight.

However, none of this has been proven at all, and remains mostly as a fantastic tale, just a rumor…

Or is it?

-Barbatos

Venti’s mark rests between your shoulder blades, the small Anemo sigil emulating tiny wings in the most appropriate of places. It makes him fond of calling you his “angel”, though, you know it cannot compare to his own real wings... it makes your heart flutter nonetheless.

It remains mostly covered, and yet without fail, Venti’s hand would always gently rest on it before his hand slides over to your shoulder or waist. At this point the touch soothes you and you’ve come to expect it every time you enter Angel’s share and bright Aqua eyes land on you.

In the dark of night, those precious moments of closeness and passion among the bedsheets, Venti’s nimble fingers, calloused by the Lyre and the bow alike, trail along your spine and stop at the mark, before he leans in and places a kiss on it.

For the God of Freedom to brand someone like this… it would seem as a contradiction, but you know it to be his blessing, his vow to you and your love. As his lips go up to your shoulder and his hands slide down to your waist, sneaking between your legs, he closes his eyes and hums a soft tune.

-Morax

The Geo mark is found on a rather unusual place, and to tell the truth, it even embarrassed you a little at first. The golden diamond placed just below your navel, partially hidden by the line of your underwear. When asked about it, Zhongli simply murmured something about dragon mating, fertility or virility… his cheeks dusted red.

You admit though, that once you get used to it, you do find yourself idly tracing it from time to time. Sometimes it seems to glow softly, or feel warm, perhaps responding to the Archon when he thumbs gently at it, contrasting and comparing with his own blackened arms, etched with veins of gold. Amber eyes staring up at you with love and desire as he places a kiss on it making you shiver.

Zhongli constantly wants to mark you more, in all sorts of ways. Drape you in silks and cover you in gemstones and gold. Leave bite marks along your skin. Douse you in his scent. It appeases his draconic instincts. But nothing compares to that little geo sigil, a personal indisputable claim, tattooed on your skin.

In a way, the mark could be taken as the God of Contracts’ signature and an unbreakable oath to you, his mate. It makes the dragon purr as he rolls his hips into yours, sinking deep inside you and making you whine as his palm presses against it.

-Beelzebul

Right at the center of your collarbone, like a pendant held by an invisible necklace, that is where the Electro mark was placed by Ei. Sometimes it’s a real shame it can’t be seen normally by humans, it would make for a pretty nice tattoo…

It’s not like the Electro sigil is rare to see anyway, quite the contrary, a rather popular choice and common sight all over Inazuma with deep cultural and religious meanings alike honoring Her Excellency. But one look from a youkai or one of the mikos at Narukami shrine and you know this is different.

Ei could act aloof and have a hard time expressing or understanding feelings, but the way she looks at you as she straddles you… dark violet hair cascading down her back and sides, hands roaming your chest and settling at your shoulders. She pins you there under her intense purple gaze and then bends forward to kiss at the sigil before moving to your lips.

The Goddess of Eternity considers her choices deeply and rarely ever goes back on her word or breaks a promise, and that is what she bestows upon you with her mark, a promise. Of love, of respect, of loyalty. Who would’ve thought the Electro Archon could be so… passionate?

-Focalors

You couldn’t believe just where Lady Furina had placed a pretty, blue, Hydro symbol on your skin. When asked about it she’d just giggled and said everything had a reason when it came to divine marks such as these… then proceeded to not explain at all. But seriously, your inner thigh?!

You could only sigh but smile softly at her antics as she laid across the couch, head rested in your lap, taking a nap by using your thighs as pillow, or demanding to be fed more sweets and sputtering indignantly when you poke at her nose or cheek instead, blushing.

She often drives you insane, paying special attention to the hydro marking with kisses and nibbles when you need her lips to go just a little more to the side… but oh, how she enjoyed teasing and riling you up. Mismatched blue eyes blinking coyly under thick eyelashes.

This is Lady Furina’s pledge to you, her word of honor as the Goddess of Justice, to love and cherish you no matter what. For despite her innocent act, she is guilty of having fallen for you.

-Bonus: Buer (Platonic)

Many people underestimate and doubt Nahida. A grave sin, in your opinion. When she places her mark of Dendro softly in your forehead, you feel nothing but pride, willing to follow and defend her and her teachings, for it is an honor to be her acolyte.

You see her wisdom in her actions, in the contemplating looks at her beloved city and people, in the way she always tries to solve problems and learn from difficulties, in her kindness, gentleness and little smiles. You see her love in the way she helps the elderly and soothes the children, in the candied ajilenakh nuts she shares with everyone, in the sparkle of her unique green eyes.

Like any other Archon, her nation and all its inhabitants are like her children. Despite her preferred appearance, the way she holds your hand as she guides you along and brushes at your hair gently with comforting words and praise feel more akin to a mother.  

Just as you trust her, she trusts you, that is the covenant her sigil represents. And in the eyes of the Goddess of Wisdom, one day you’ll reach the sky and stars above.

-Bonus II: Hydro Dragon Sovereign

You stare at the sigil in the palm of your hand. An ancient symbol of power, no doubt, but with a meaning long since lost to time and shrouded in mystery. Yet, its significance is crystal clear to you: “I am yours as you are mine.”

The way the Iudex would always, without fail, hold your hand gently and kiss your palm instead of the back of it as it was traditional would no doubt confuse some people, but it makes your heart skip a beat. This special connection, the knowing look from those gorgeous lavender eyes and the hidden smile pressed against your skin…

Your back arches with a moan as Neuvillette ruts softly into you, slow and reverent, peppering kisses and nuzzling at your neck. His hand takes a hold of yours, fingers intertwining and you shiver as the marking in your palm seems to react. Your grip his hand tighter, canting your hips as well and surrounding him with your legs, asking for more, more, more-

It’s unknown if one day his kind will return to power, just as it’s impossible to predict the flow of the elements and the energy in leylines or just what the future will bring. But for Neuvillette, having you by his side feels like the most refreshing spring water and makes life that much sweeter.

#crys writes #oh god how do I tag this #genshin smut #?? #genshin impact smut #zhongli smut #neuvillette smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #venti x reader #venti x you #ei x reader #ei x you #focalors x reader #focalors x you #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #gn reader #mdni #don't follow me either y'all gonna get blocked #does this count as venti ei and focalors smut??? #uuuhhhhhh #pls I just thought this was cool and sweet

[suntoru]

✧˖°. PRINCESS TREATMENT ONLY!

summary: genshin men being huge simps and spoiling u every chance they get &lt;3

feat. diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich, childe, kazuha kaedehara, scary mooch, xiao, thoma, ayatoe, al-haitham, kaveh

a/n: i swear i was working on the masterlist but the brainrot finally got to me hnghhhh

warnings: gn but feminine implications (ie. princess treatment, reader wears heels and makeup, passenger princess), simping for reader, maybe ooc? swearing, fluff, some are modern aus, maybe innuendos?

─ ✰ DILUC is the gentleman we all deserve in our lives. if it’s raining outside, he’ll make sure to protect you from the wetness! he makes sure you’re fully bundled up in his coat, and that when he’s walking you home, the umbrella is fully covering you. oh, his shoulder’s getting wet? that’s fine, a little bit of water never hurt anyone. but if it happens to you? all hell breaks loose. what if you get sick from the rain? are you feeling alright? do you need medicine? a doctor? and if you’re in a modern au, he’ll definitely let you be the passenger princess 🥰 you can take naps, eat snacks, and pick all the songs! you don’t ever have to worry about giving him directions, you can just do whatever you want. he even installs led lights in his car so you can take asthetic pictures <3 if you’re tired, don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine alone, take your beauty sleep :) he drives you anywhere you want, no questions asked! you want to go to his mansion? you’ll be there in ten. grocery store? sure. nail salon? he’ll even accompany you to get your nails done just so you won’t be alone, pays for everything too!

─ ✰ KAEYA is absolutely whipped for you. to most people, he’s the town flirt, and a drunkard, but to you, he’s the most caring and softest person you’ve ever met, even if it’s hidden under layers of hurt. if you go out drinking with him, and come back drunk, he’ll carry you bridal style back home. pressing your body closer to his, he makes sure to prop your head so your neck won’t get sore. and if you wear makeup, he won’t put in the low effort to wipe your face with a makeup wipe, he’ll do your whole skincare routine for you! first, he uses makeup remover to take everything off, then, gently, he massages the cleanser into your skin and washes it off. he applies your creams and serums, making sure to be as tender as possible, even if you whine that all you want to do is go to sleep. he soothes you, whispering that all he needs is ten more minutes to brush your teeth and get you changed so you’ll feel clean in the morning. and for the hangover in the morning? he makes you special soup and showers you himself so you don’t even have to lift a finger.

─ ✰ CHILDE loves spoiling you whenever he gets the chance to. other people might think it’s just another sugar baby dynamic, but in truth, it’s far from it. it’s a selfless love, not just based on materialistic items. but even then, he’s willing to sacrifice his time and money for you. you’re his baby and his top priority always, no matter what. are you hungry? well, get ready, because he just booked a reservation at the highest star restaurant in town! you’re having a bad day? no problem, he’ll send one of the lower ranking fatui members to do the dirty work and he’s coming home early! he’ll bring home a large bouquet of flowers and a cute stuffie to match. you need new clothes? he’s driving you to all your favourite stores on his card <3 his wallet is practically bottomless, so don’t be afraid to spend what you want! a couple thousand mora is nothing to him if he can see your frowning pout turn into the pretty smile he loves so much. he even carries all your bags for you without asking! he can’t have his darling getting tired after all :(( just as long as after you give him a smooch on the lips and an hour of cuddles, the only payment he’ll accept (´∀｀)♡

─ ✰ KAZUHA, even after years of being in a relationship, still finds ways to give you butterflies in your stomach. when you come back into your quiet home after a long night, too exhausted to take care of yourself, he leads you to a chair and sits you down. he ever so delicately unlaces your heels for you, taking his time doing so, but don’t worry! you won’t ever be bored. if the silence is too much, he’ll ask you how your day was, talk about his, and spill all the tea that happened on the crux. and if your feet are tender, he’ll massage them gently so they won’t be sore in the morning :(( he’s putting the utmost care and effort into whatever he’s doing for you, and that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. he still opens doors for you, dedicates hundreds, if not thousand of poems and haikus to you, and never fails to make you feel loved. he’d never forget an important date, even if you don’t mention it for months before! he always asks for your hand, and when you place it in his with a knowing smile, he gives you a fairytale-like kiss on the top, making sure to peck every little fingertip in the process.

─ ✰ SCARAMOUCHE never thought he’d bow down to anyone again in his lifetime. he’s trained every little bit of himself to be the most powerful, the strongest being he could so he’d never have to go through that humiliation. but yet here he is, tucking away his ego and pride, bending down on the ground for you. yes, he may grumble, telling you to hurry up, and that he doesn’t have all day, but the fact that he’s basically submitting to you speaks for itself. you taught him what love meant, healing, and promised that you’d never leave him, and for that, you have his eternal loyalty. as you climb on his back, he gently hooks your legs against his arms as he stabilizes both of you. the proximity of your face resting against his neck causes him to go up in flames, throwing his oversized hat on your head, telling you to hold on to it for him. but really he’s hoping the large structure obstructs his rosy cheeks. he does every little ‘embarrassing’ thing for you, from painting his nails barbie pink to being shrek for your matching halloween costumes. if his younger self were to look back at him, he simply wouldn’t believe it, but now, he wouldn’t even consider the possibility of even saying no to you.

─ ✰ XIAO never, ever, takes you adventuring with him, simply because he believes someone as precious as you shouldn’t risk getting hurt and scuffed up. so instead, he brings you little gifts that he sees while adventuring. a glaze lily, protective adepti charms, and almond tofu are all gifts that he’s brought to you before. he’s also much softer with you, never raising his voice and being cautious about his choice of words. if you ever get caught in a physical situation with him, automatically he moves to stand in front of you, one arm protectively circling your waist, pulling you closer to him. being xiao’s s/o, you also get special privileges. while he answers most who call his name, if you even utter his in a whisper, he’ll be there in a heartbeat, no matter if it’s an emergency or not. whether you called him to join your tea party, or if you are in the slightest bit of danger, he’ll be there. he also trusts you more than his logic, even if everyone else is against you. if you’re in a scuffle with other humans, he makes sure to hear both sides, but his heart already knows who’s right. whether there are 100 witnesses who all say you’re wrong, he’ll still believe you anyways.

─ ✰ THOMA is absolute malewife material, no questions asked. sometimes, if he’s not busy in the mornings, he’ll surprise you with breakfast in bed without a special occasion. he’ll peck your cheek and give you a soft ‘good morning’ as to not break the sleepy trance you’re in, carefully placing the tray onto the nearest nightstand. whenever he’s around, he does all your chores too, from washing the dishes, to dusting the house and sweeping the floors. you wom’t even have to lift a finger, he goes as far to make lunch too! since he’s not home by then, usually somewhere in the kamisato estate, he leaves handwritten sticky notes on each lunch box he gives you. he fills them with messages like, “the perfume you wore smells good today!” “your smile is blinding, my ray of sunshine” or “you’re gorgeous always, my lovely.” never once is a message repeated, he believes someone as special as you deserves to hear something unique each day. he even goes as far to make your food cute! he’s made panda shaped onigiri’s, cat-like dango’s… all because you asked him once, it’s become a tradition now.

─ ✰ AYATO never leaves you bored when he goes to one of his meetings. his maids set up a spa day, complete with a makeover and evening gown to go with it, but it’s just not the same without your husband :( thankfully, being the significant other of the head of the yashiro commission has its own perks. for instance, you can walk around like you own the place and join in on in his meetings, albeit later you might get punished by ayato for interrupting, but really, he doesn’t mind. seated on his lap, you play with his fingers and let out a quiet huff. why did you think this was a good idea again? what they’re talking about is so boring, you’re beginning to regret your desicion to join ayato, wishing to be soaking in the tub with a face mask again. thankfully, shortly after, he cuts the conference short, apologizing and telling them he has more pressing matters to attend to. you lead him straight home holding his hand, giddy that he’ll join another one of your salon days. he makes sure to pamper you, giving you a massage and washing your hair for you, praising you for being so patient, even if you were the reason the meeting ended early.

─ ✰ AL-HAITHAM, i headcanon, thinks he’s being subtle with putting up with your shenanigans, but he couldn’t be farther off. he might seem indifferent on the outside, but he cares much more than you might think. can’t sleep? just wake him up at 3am, he’ll wrap you in a blanket burrito and read to you until you fall asleep! just got your nails done? he’ll carry all of your books, what else would he need his giant man boobs muscles for? he revolves around you, as if you are the sun and he the earth. and god forbid if you’re ever mad at him, his whole life comes tumbling down. although if you can’t see it in his facial expression, all of his rationality goes flying out the window. he’s snappier than usual, getting annoyed at the littlest of inconveniences. even if you’re in the wrong, he’ll still apologize first, he just wants you to start talking to him again 😢 if you have conditions to making up, he follows them all to the tee. give you one kiss for every hour he’s made you upset? done. buy you the newest line of makeup or skincare? absolutely. cook dinner for the next two weeks? he already does that.

─ ✰ KAVEH is placed 1st on the list of simps. just pout your lips and whimper a “pretty please?”, he’s down bad. he lets you braid, curl, and play with his hair whenever you want, even if it was already styled in the beginning. he lets you steal all of his clothes, who cares if he’s worn the same thing five times in the past week? you look so adorable in his white shirt, he can’t complain. oh, and if you don’t like his style? he’ll let you pick out his clothes and style him yourself, he’ll stand there patiently for you like a mannequin <3 technically it’s not allowed, but he shows you all of his top secret projects and all the cool things he’s doing, you’re the only one allowed in his office! oh, what’s this? you want him to do your makeup? just give him a week, he’ll perfect cat eyeliner, lip liner and blending eyeshadow colors for you! after you’re done, he lets you do his makeup too, praising you for your talent. even if the blush is patchy, foundation cakey and lip gloss smudged, he still thanks you endlessly with unlimited cuddles and a new handbag matching his briefcase!

©hawkssimpsblog 2023.

#genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x reader #diluc x you #diluc x reader #diluc x y/n #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya x y/n #childe x you #childe x y/n #childe x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #xiao x reader #thoma x y/n #thoma x reader #ayato x y/n #al haitham x reader #al haitham x y/n #kaveh x reader #kaveh x y/n

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Thirteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Nurse!reader. Domestic slice of life. Feelings of fear, self loathing, anxiety, dread. Complicated emotions. Verbal depiction of domestic violence. Non sexual intimacy. Scars from cigarette burns. Very brief daddy kink. Sick character (not reader). Comfort. Confessions.

The park is quiet.

You hoped it would be- middle of the day, in the middle of a work week, in the middle of the city. There are a few people around, walking, running, lingering. Enjoying themselves, the warmth of the sun on their face, a bright spot amid a typically grey winter.

It makes it easier. To look.

To watch.

To wait.

And you do. You wait, and you wait. You sit steady on the park bench, pretending to be remotely interested in the rough paperback cradled in your lap, spine already cracked flimsy by Simon’s grip. It’s Stephen King. Carrie, if you’re precise. A story of stolen girlhood and rage.

You swallow the shards of glass and acid the pages bring forth.

Deep breath. 

The breeze gusts, and your shoulders nearly shake. It’s been a long, long time since you’ve sat out in the open like this.

Easy prey.

You may have always been easy prey. Easy and young and stupid, easy, and naïve and manipulated. You fell for every trick in the book. You didn’t see the signs until it was too late.

Still, you watch. You wait.

You considered, for a while, that if Philip was around, if he was in the city, looking for you- he’d arrive here. Like magic. Like a classic villain, materializing in a plume of smoke.

And while it’s not exactly comfort you feel as each minute ticks by and he fails to appear, there’s relief in your soul for certain.

It’s a risk, to sit here. A question. With an answer, for now.

Will he? Won’t he? 

Today, the answer is he won’t.

Your phone vibrates, and you don’t need to look at it to know, guilt worming its way into the depths of your heart, anxiety piquing as you imagine both Simon and Johnny at their house, their home, worried.

Don’t fool yourself. Don’t give yourself too much credit. Don’t get carried away. 

Someone clears their throat over the back of the bench, and you whirl.

“Hey, sorry.” Your pulse slows from a gallop to something slower, and you shake your head.

“You can’t sneak up on me like that.” The man shrugs his second apology, legs spreading into the spot next to you. You’re practiced at this, familiar. Knowledgeable enough to keep your hands from shaking, even though the tremor builds through your bones.

“Been waitin’ for you to call.”

“I’ve been busy.” You eye the black bag in his hands, a small black fabric pouch, gold zipper glinting in the sun. “That everything?” He nods.

“Can I ask-“

“No.”

“Just seems strange, is all. Pretty, polished thing like you, needin’ all this. Most of my clients are more… rough around the edges.” Your teeth dig into your tongue. Already, this guy is less discreet and more obnoxious than your last purveyor. You wish you had hidden your face.

Like Simon. 

“We’re solid, then?” You unzip the pouch, cursory eye roaming over the collection inside, checking off a mental list. Usually, you would feel relief at this point, but today, it sours and rots. Liberation burns into a roaring wave of uncertainty, and your fingers tighten over the zipper.

“We’re good.” He stands, giving you one last long look, and then his mouth shifts into a half smile. “Good luck.” Your polite nod is strained and forced. A nonverbal fuck off.

He takes the cue, and slinks away, disappearing around a corner and out of sight.

The bag weighs heavily in your hands. A terrible reminder of the truth.

You’ll never have a life. You’ll never have a family. You’ll always be alone. 

You’ll never be pretty or polished or perfect. 

You’ll always be this. 

Scarred. Sectioned off. Scared. 

Desperation wells, and you close your eyes. You see Johnny, and Simon. Their faces. Sunlight in bleak darkness.

Love and family and strength.

The ache in your chest widens. You want to be home, with them. Curled up, with them. Sitting at the table and eating dinner, with them. All these things, these domestic, familiar things that once seemed so unattainable, now within arm’s reach.

But still so far away. 

Your shoulders relax a fraction, dipping lower, the strain on your injury zinging through your muscles as you roll them, and you shove the little bag into the backpack, above the clothes you pulled from your apartment.

Deep breath. 

Johnny’s the first you see after locking the front door. He’s in the kitchen, half leaning on his crutch, fishing something out of a pot, a noodle of some kind, and he freezes, eyes heavy with relief, when you come around the corner.

“Bunny.” His good arm reaches, fingers brushing together, cold against warm. He coos. “Ye’re freezin’.”

“It’s cold.” You agree, unzipping the front of your jacket. He slides cautious and slow touch around your waist beneath it, and you go with him, face burrowing into his chest, just below his collarbone. Your nose is nearly smashed, but you can still breath him in, feel him, be in this moment with him.

His hold tightens. “What is it?”

“Sorry it took me so long.”

“That’s alright, was jus’ worried is all. Text us back next time.” You nod, but stay silent, still taking gulps of air, nosing against the collar of his shirt to find his skin. “Pretty girl,” his hand strokes over the back of your head, warm breath on your cheek. “Ye alright?” You breathe through the threat of tears, though they sting and threaten to sink you.

“Ye-yeah.” You choke, and he tries to pull back, grip steady on your upper arm, but you follow him, still trying to crawl inside and hide, wrap yourself up in him and disappear.

“Hey now,” he clucks his tongue, trying to re-focus you, trying to get your attention, nimble fingers cradling your jaw, “what is it?”

There are no words to explain it, these feelings. The fear. The dread. The bile rioting in your stomach, the anxiety churning like a turbulent sea. It’s like no matter what you do, it all comes back, no matter how deep you bury it or how much you try to change the tide.

It’s easier to lie.

“I’m tired.” You whisper, and he rubs your back.

“Did ye eat?” No.

“Yes. I got something at the hospital.”

“Paperwork all in order so ye can hang out wit’ us until ye’re better?” His smile is infectious, a mirror blooming across your own face, and he dots your nose with his lips. “There’s our girl.” Your toes curl. He tugs the backpack into his grip, and you let him, let him push you up into the counter, drop your bag to the floor, slip his tongue between his teeth. You let it all go to your head, let yourself get lost in him, twist your fingers in his hair, nipples pebbling stiff as his mouth finds the sensitive skin of your neck.

He takes it all away. Every time. 

“Johnny.”

“I’ve got ye.” He finds an opening, a soft spot between your jeans and your shirt, hands roaming upward and over, everywhere. He’s everywhere, effortlessly, and you’re along for the ride, clinging so tight like you’re afraid you’ll fall.

And then-

It stops.

He’s holding your face, blue gaze unwavering, focused. “Bun, talk to me.” Your throat throbs, words sticking like taffy, clawing their way up in a jumbled mess until the only thing intelligible is what spills out.  

“Is this real?” You’re a child. Small and scared, desperate for some sort of reassurance, some semblance of security.

“Is what real?” His fingers close over yours, lifting them to his lips. “This? Us?”

“Everything. All of it… I- I-“

“It’s real. It’s been real since ye held my hand the first time. Or at least, it’s been real for me… since then. Thought ye were an angel. An answer to a prayer.” He cracks a smile, thumb rubbing across the slope of your cheek. “An’ I’m not the praying type.”

“There’s… you don’t know me, Johnny. There’s so much… you don’t know.” Your chest heaves, anxiety stuttering inside your lungs, air turning thin in your mouth.

“I know, shhh. I know.” You press your face back into his chest, words slowing to a stop, a trickle. “Ye remind me of him, ye know. A lot prettier though.”

“Who?”

“Si.” He kisses your temple, your forehead, peeling away to peer at your face. “Guarded… but scared under it all. Ye dinnae even know how life can be, too busy runnin’ away.”

“Johnny-“

“Ye’ve got secrets, I know. But it’s the same thing I used to tell him. Eventually you’ve got to let go, let me in. Let us in, Bun. We’re not goin’ anywhere. We’re not afraid. Let us prove it.” Your lower lip trembles, eyes burning with the brunt of tears. “Shhh, dinnae cry. Ye’re alright, everything’s going to be okay. I swear it.” You do nothing, nothing except stand there, half folded into him, breath and touch agonizingly slow, steady in his hold.

The two of you stay there, in the silence, until the agonized sear of distress starts to fade, and you begin to balance, ship righting itself after a long night in rocky seas.

Penny’s bedroom door is open.

The soft glow of a nightlight floats into the hall, and you peer past, finding Simon with his arms full, reclined in the rocking chair, a nearly asleep Penny gap mouthed in his arms. You wave.

“Hi,” he whispers, “get everything you needed?”

“Yeah, all set.” You nod to the baby. “She’s knocked.”

“Bath time was rough.” He traces her cheek, twirling a finger in her hair. A soft, faultless picture, his features delicately framed by shadow, thick arms the perfect place for a baby, an easy cradle.

It’s an intimate moment, and inside it, you feel out of place.

“I’ll see you downstairs?” You shift away, motioning, and he hums.

“In a few.”

Everything is slow with them in the evenings, you’ve realized.

They move leisurely, dancing around one another, Simon constantly watching and waiting, for both you and Johnny, anticipating. It’s a natural role, one that seems more permanent over necessary considering the circumstances, Johnny falling into an unhurried pace, languishing on the couch after dinner and dishes are done, fingers mindlessly stroking into the soft spot beneath your ear. Simon leans over, kissing Johnny and then settling at your side, an arm stretching around your back. “Should we watch something?” Johnny brightens.

“A movie?”

“If you’d like. Bun, any suggestions?” You blink. It’s a surprise, one that’s never occurred to you, the ability to simply choose a movie.

“Umm… no?”

“What’s yer favorite?”

“I don’t know. Whatever is fine. What do you guys like?”

“We know what we like. We want to know what you like.” What do you like? Comedies, you suppose. Something light and funny, something to distract the never-ending stream of thoughts cycling through your head.

“Uh, have you guys ever seen Forgetting Sarah Marshall?” Johnny chuckles.

“It’s been a while.” He flicks through the icons on the screen, thumbing over to where he starts to type it in. What if they don’t like it? What if they’re humoring you? What if you picked wrong? “Or, if you don’t like that, we can do something else. Anything. I’m not picky. It doesn’t have to be-“

“Hey,” Simon murmurs, warm palm resting on your knee, “that’s perfect. We both like that one.”

“Dracula musical.” Johnny smiles, finding it easily and clicking play. Your breath catches at the ease of it all, of picking a movie and that being that, no anxiety about a reaction or something triggering popping up on screen.

You can just… enjoy it.

The light in their bathroom is a little too bright.

Your toes stretch across the tile, nerves thrashing in the pit of your stomach as you stare in the mirror.

You don’t know who it is looking back at you.

You don’t recognize the girl getting ready for bed, brushing her teeth, wearing a pair of pajama pants and Simon’s shirt.

There’s a disconnect, some semblance of wires crossing, some phantom of someone else, living in your skin.

Because it can’t be you, getting ready to crawl into bed between them. It can’t be you, who fell asleep with her head on Simon’s stomach during the movie, can’t be you who stole a kiss from Johnny as Simon propped his leg up on the stack of pillows.

You’re playing house. Playing a game. 

It won’t last. 

It can’t.

You wrap a finger up in the hem of Simon’s shirt, frayed and torn edges pulling apart below the seam. It’s an old one, something he tugged out of a drawer and tossed on the bed, faded graphic turned from white to grey against a rusted black backdrop. It’s soft, and worn, and comfortable, an article of clothing well loved, and you wonder if Johnny’s worn it too. If it’s been passed around, washed, and dried a hundred times.

“Everything alright?” Simon leans into the bathroom, Johnny in view just past his shoulder. He’s not wearing a shirt, just soft, flannel pants, and you stare at the scars dotting his torso before dragging your gaze away.

“Yeah, sorry… I got distracted.” You turn the tap, rinsing your toothbrush before placing it by itself on the edge of the sink, out of place next to the cup holding theirs, and Penny’s.

You blink slow, allowing your eyes to close for a fraction of second.

“Ready for bed?” Johnny beams at you, lush and sleepy, hand outstretched, reaching.

You take a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Simon’s bedside lamp is still on, barely illuminating the dark. It’s quiet, and warm, and you bask in the space between their bodies, fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt.

When Johnny’s fingers graze the skin under the fabric, your chest tightens. He strokes back and forth, over your navel, blazing heat from his palm tingling into your skin. You’re being torn in two, swallowed by the ocean, tugged in different directions.

You struggle to regulate your breathing, small draws coming in quicker, and Simon covers Johnny’s hand with his own, stopping the movement.

“Will you show us?” He murmurs.

“Sh-show you?”

“The scars.” Oh.

Will you? 

Even though Simon’s already seen them, this feels different. This feels like a choice. Like you’re peeling something back, baring yourself.

You close your eyes and pull the bottom of your shirt to the top of your ribcage, cool air ghosting over your exposed skin. Johnny makes a sound, a twisted whisper of something pained, and you shiver.

A thumb slides over the raised skin on the left side of your belly. “These are from cigarettes?”

“Yes.” You almost want to look, want to see, but can’t bring yourself to do it, to witness their disgust, their shock. You’re hollow. Drifting. Falling away from them. Someone shifts, the bed moves, jostles slightly, but you block it out. Every muscle in your body is taut, jaw locked, and fists clenched.

This morning was intimate but this… this is something else. Something more. 

“Can ye feel them, still? Do they hurt?” Two hands roam, rubbing gently, skimming.

“No but… they’re hideous.”

“No.” Simon croaks, voice thick. “There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t perfect.” Your heart cracks, and the light touch of fingertips disappears, replaced with a swath of breath and then-

Lips. 

He’s kissing them. 

It stops your heart, dries your mouth. Robs you of your breath, your head spinning into an enormous vortex of disbelief. Simon’s mouth travels, dotting your skin between each ugly, raised bump, carefully pressing a kiss to each one, gradually. He takes his time, and with your eyes closed, you can feel his body hovering above you, holding steady just over your frame. Johnny’s forehead rests against yours, and he cups your face, thumb rubbing the apple of your cheek, sweet and slow.

“Will ye tell us… about how you got them? Who gave them to ye?” Simon cradles your hips, firm pressure folding into your skin, the curve there, and he squeezes, prompting you, expecting. You don’t know how he does it, how he’s so easily able to guide you, and Johnny. It’s seamless.

“I…” You don’t know what to say, if you were to say anything at all. How to answer. How to begin to explain. How to confirm what you know they already suspect, how to start this story. This nightmare.

Are you really doing this? Could you really do this? 

There’s a sliver of sun, begging. Pleading. It rails against the cracks in your heart, desperate.

So, you spit out the only thing you know for sure.

“He liked to hurt me.”

“Who?” Simon’s question is immediate, and your ribs expand with a long breath.

“My… ex.” Stop talking. Stop this, stop it, stop- “He’s a monster.”

“The healed breaks on your x-rays…” He trails off, and you reach blindly, searching for an anchor. Johnny gives it to you, clutching your hand in his, thumb soothing over your knuckles.

“Yes.”

“And more.” Simon whispers, and Johnny draws a sharp breath. You nod.

“And more.”

“Your neck, and shoulder?” There’s a long silence, as you sit atop the wall. As you wait and try to decide if you want to jump off or continue to sit here… trapped at the top, teetering on the edge while they wait below.

You’re in their life now. You said you’d try. They should know. 

You trust them. 

Don’t you? 

“He found me.” You confess, cracked and bleeding and hung out to dry. Three words barely scratching the surface of the truth, saying almost nothing at all and still so much. You stumble, and panic, fear bubbling up to the surface. “I’m sorry, I told you before- I said-“

“And we told ye; nothing is going to get ye while ye’re with us. Ye’re safe, bunny.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about!” you blurt, a near snap, and Johnny freezes. “It’s you guys, and Penny, and your friends, you- you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do, o-or where I go-” You’re rambling, nearly hyperventilating, and slipping away, succumbing to the rolling black clouds overtaking your mouth and mind, stuttering and falling, drowning in an endless darkness.

They don’t know. They don’t understand. They can’t. 

You’re weak. You’re stupid. You’re nothing. 

You’re a child again. A lost girl. Alone and scared. Trapped in the dark.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart.” You shake your head, and Simon catches it between his palms, holding you still. You can fight and flail and run, but he’s still there. Strong and safe and beautiful in every way, a foundation of love, of trust. “It’s just us, we’re here. With you. Look.” Johnny tightens his hold, and your bones rattle inside your skin, aching and splintering, shredding you from the inside out.

“I can’t.” You hiss, trying to curl away. You can’t face them, or this. The reality. The truth.

It’s easier to run. Who were you kidding? You can’t do this. You should have already been gone. 

But they won’t let you go. Not now. Not when they have you so close to the light. So close to the sun. 

And maybe it’s time to accept it.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” Johnny murmurs. “Ye can do it.” The pull of his voice drags you closer, comforts you, and you long for him, long to see his blue eyes, overgrown mohawk and gorgeous smile. You long to relax into him, to hear the thump of his heart, steady and strong. He’s a lighthouse in the pitch-black night, a guiding light. It’s enough to lessen pressure building in the back of your skull, and you slowly blink, both of their concerned faces coming into view.

The three of you linger silence, holding each other, decompressing from your confession, your fear that feels too much sometimes. It all fades, night turning long, and eventually you yawn, blinking away the sleepy stars in your eyes.

“There’s our bunny.” Simon kisses your cheek. “My good girl.” My good girl. Turning it over in your mind makes you squirm, allowing it ricochet back and forth with his accent, and you wish you could latch onto it, memorize it, hear it every day. Johnny gives you a bemused smile.

“Ye liked that?” He raises an eyebrow at Simon, and then presses his lips to your ear, whispering. “Ye want to be a good girl for daddy, little bunny?” Daddy. You choke. You anticipate disgust, revulsion, but none of it comes.

Only… intrigue. Warmth.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.” Simon interrupts gently. “Thank you, sweetheart. For trusting us. I know it’s hard.” You turn into Johnny, and Simon rolls to flick out the light, pulling up tight behind you, sliding an arm under the pillows. You burrow deeper into the blankets, snuggling between them to find the warmest spots, and sigh.

“You both… make it easier. You make it easy.”

The world from yesterday is forgotten the next day when Penny wakes up with a fever.

The house is thrown into confined, regulated chaos, but chaos all the same. She wails almost the entirety of the morning, miserable, and you ache for both her, and her dads, who are unmoored and anxious. You don’t even balk when Simon asks you to hold her, explaining he has to call her pediatrician.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You coo, rubbing her back. She’s warm to the touch, but not scorching, and it gives you some comfort, even with what little you know about peds. You rock her, pacing, as Johnny watches uneasily from the couch, typing unending questions into a web search about babies and fevers. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry. I know you don’t feel good.”

“It’s 38.1… that’s fine, right? As long as it’s under 39?”

“I think so.” You try to reassure him. “I’m not a little human nurse though, so I can’t be sure. But it hasn’t been that long, Johnny. We don’t need to worry until at least twenty-four hours.” He nods, lips quirking into a small smile. “What?”

“Ye said we.”

“Well… yeah…” you trail off, and he shakes his head.

“Jus’ like the sound of it, is all. Like how ye look, holdin’ our baby.” You give him a look, half exasperated, half doe eyed, as always, because you can’t help but feel a little lovestruck or dazed whenever you glance his way, always taken by him, no matter the moment.

Simon steps back inside from the patio, swooping to rub his nose in Johnny’s hair and squeeze his shoulder affectionately. “The pediatrician says if she gets worse, or doesn’t improve by tomorrow, to bring her in.”

“Good.” You bounce her, propping her up on your shoulder. “That’s good.” She gurgles, croaking through her miserable fever. “Poor baby girl, I’m sorry.” You pat her again, trying to help settle her-

She coughs, and something warm runs down your back.

“Shite.” Johnny curses, Simon immediately trying to pull her from your arms, but you shake your head.

“There’s no sense in her throwing up on you too.” You explain.

“I’ll go grab a towel, and some clothes. Do you want to change your shirt?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You keep your hand steady on her back. You’ll both need a thorough wipe down now, maybe even a shower.

“Sorry, bun.” Johnny frowns, but you reassure him, still rocking Penny in your arms. 

“It’s fine, really. I’ve been through way worse with bodily fluids, trust me.” The bottom stair creaks, in the way that it only does for Simon, his mass too much for one of the wooden slats.

When you look up, you realize he’s not moving, only standing shock still, clothes and towel and a baby blanket in one hand,

and the contents of the little black bag in the other.

You left it on the dresser. You left it out in the open, unzipped, on the dresser. 

Your blood freezes. Johnny frowns, looking between his partner and you, trying to desperately draw a conclusion that doesn’t come.

Simon holds the little navy-blue book up, the one with your picture in it, but with a name they won’t recognize. A person they wouldn’t know.

A person you don’t even know, yet. A new life. A new identity.

“What’s that?” Johnny’s quizzical, intrigued.

“Bunny.” Simon breathes, and you shake your head. It’s all you can do, just shake your head back and forth until your brain is rattling around in your skull.

You can’t stop it.

They’ll never love you. They won’t accept you. They won’t understand. 

“It’s- it’s j-just in case,” you stammer, panicked and tongue tied. “you… you don’t understand, I have to have it… just in case.”

“What is it?” Johnny demands, and Simon flips the front of the booklet around-

revealing the cover of a brand-new American passport.

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