#I have so much to update lord give me the strength I need to get through this bullshit legacy LMAO

[theageofsims]

Alright listen to me...

the random generator online told me to do it

and then I made them do it...

and somebody in the legacy just had twins.

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Three - Mr Sandman

☆☆☆

Dream woke up in his realm. He was home at last. He had been away for far too long, and he had missed his home. Not only that, a familiar face was here to greet him. Lucienne. She was always so loyal to him.

"Lucienne."

"My lord, you're home!"

She helps him up to his feet, and he turns to look at the grand gates of his realm. Home.

Lucienne and Dream walk toward the gates. Before he can open the gates, Lucienne speaks to him. She looks rather forlorn. "Forgive me, sir, but the realm, the palace, they are not as you left them."

The gates open, and he can see what she means. His realm was falling apart. The sight pained him. "What happened here? Who did this?"

"My lord, you are The Dreaming. The Dreaming is you. With you gone as long as you were, the realm began to decay and crumble."

"And the residents?" He asks softly. "The palace staff?"

"I'm afraid most are gone."

"Gone?"

"Some went looking for you." Lucienne tells him.

"And the others?"

"They thought, perhaps, you had grown weary of your duties, and..."

"What? Abandoned them? Had they had so little faith in me? Had my own subjects not known me?" He asks. He didn't want to believe his people would abandon their realm, their home. He certainly hadn't meant to.

Morpheus and Lucienne headed toward the palace. There was debris everywhere. His kingdom was crumbling around him, and he hated it.

He stood in his throne room. There wasn't much left of it. This room had once been so beautiful and put together, designed by his hand. Now, it was a ghost of what it used to be. Shattered glass and stone covered the floor, crunching under his feet as he walked.

Lucienne watched her lord as he took it all in. Though she had stayed to look after the kingdom, there was only so much she could do. Without Dream, the kingdom couldn't last. If an Endless abandoned their realm, it would fall apart and eventually fade.

Morpheus picked up a shard of glass from beneath his feet and held it in his hand. He raised his hand and tried to summon enough power to rebuild his throne room. The debris began to rise from the ground, but it was taking all his strength to even do that. Eventually, he felt go and collapsed to the ground. He was too weak.

"You need rest and food, and perhaps a bit more rest, and then you'll be at full strength."

"No. Not without my tools." He picks himself back up.

"Your tools?"

"My sand, my helm, my ruby," he lists.

"What happened to them?"

"They were taken from me. By my captors. And then taken from them. I know not where. Nor what I am without them."

He sits down on the steps of his throne and looks up at Lucienne. He needed to update her on you. He reaches for his wrist and rubs his scar gently.

"Lucienne, there is something I need to tell you about."

"Yes, sir?" She stands there and gives him her full attention.

"There was someone in that house. Where I was trapped. Someone I need to get to." He looks down at the star scar.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you know of soulmate bonds?" He asks her quietly.

"Soulmate bonds?" She sounds rather surprised by his questions. He's never really brought up anything like this before. "I understand that some humans believe their soulmates to be the one they connect with the most. A special connection is made between two people. Something special."

"What do you know of soulmates regardless the Endless?" He asks her.

"Sir?"

"It's rare. It's so rare that only I have one." He tells her. "This scar," he rubs his thumb over it, "is my bond with her."

Lucienne listens with great interest. She wasn't aware such things were real, just a feeling some people got.

"She is down there now. In that house. I saw her." His voice has softened. He seems to be away with his thoughts. "She came down to see me, and something happened. She relieved her scar. It burned into our flesh, and I knew who she was immediately. It would seem she stopped ageing and her brother kept her locked up in her room, much like I was locked up in that basement."

Dream felt angry. Angry for being trapped for so long. Angry that the people who kept him caged had gone and done the same thing to you. Angry that he couldn't have stayed to convince you to take his hand in that one moment. Not that he could blame you. You didn't know him. He saw your fear.

He would make it up to you, he promised.

"I need enough power to return to the waking world so I may get her and my tools."

"You need rest."

"I have little time for that. Please, Lucienne. Is there anything lf mine in the Dreaming? Something I created."

"There is one thing."

☆☆☆

What he did to Gregory was not something he wanted to do, but it had to be done. He would forever be sorry for what he did. He would make it up to Cain and Abel for taking their friend from them.

Next, he needed to summon the Fates. They were not easy to summon, but Dream knew exactly what he needed to do.

Three questions. Three answers.

"My first question. I had a leather pouch filled with sand. Where is it?" He asks.

"It was sold. In London. Last purchased by a magic user called Joanna Constantine."

"Constatine. I knew a Constantine, but that was 300 years ago. Does she still have the sand?"

"Dream. You know better than that. You get one question and one answer."

"My apologies. My second question. My helm. What happened to it?"

"It was traded away to a demon. For the amulet of protection."

"To which demon was it traded?"

"One question. One answer, love."

"Last question. My ruby. Who holds it now?"

"Your gem was passed from a mother to a son."

"Where are they now?"

"You have asked your questions!" The Fates disappear. Morpheus is left standing alone with all the answers he was given.

The egg he picked up was the only thing not taken by the Fates, mainly because it was not for them. He left they with Cain and Abel as his apology for Gregory.

Now that he knew where his tools were, to an extent, he could leave. His tools could wait a little longer. He had one more trip to make before them.

You.

He needed to find you, and there was only one way he could do that. He returned to the dock and looked back down into the waters of dreams. This was how he found what he needed for the Fates, and it also how he will find you.

"Please, sir, be careful." Lucienne looked at him with concern.

"I shall. I will not let myself be captured again."

"I mean... can you trust this woman? She is one of them."

Dream looked at Lucienne over his shoulder. "All will be well."

Lucienne had nothing else to say. She watched him disappear into the waters again.

The waters were still rough and dangerous, but he still had a portion of his power within him, which he would use to find you. You should be asleep by now. He needs to find your dreams.

You were the clearest thing in those waters.

☆☆☆

You hadn't slept in hours. The dream man had been gone an entire day already. You had spent the whole day in your room just thinking everything over.

Paul had spent the entire beside Alex.

Sleeping sickness. That's what he called it. The eternal sleep. Alex wouldn't ever wake up again. You couldn't bring yourself to care too much. Alex hadn't been your brother in many years. You had long since learnt to stop caring.

You felt tired. Your mind was tired.

How long had you been staring at your ceiling? You had lost count. Your eyelids were staring to feel heavy, that much you knew. You had tuned out the rest of the house.

Before you knew it, you were dosing off.

You gave in and fell asleep.

You were dreaming. Not of the basement this time. No. Now that he was free and gone, you should have known he probably wouldn't appear in your dreams again.

This time you're in a garden. Your garden. You're 11 years old again. Your father is about to start his ritual. However, this time, you're not in your room. You're down there with him. The men in robes surround the circle. Rodrick looks down at you, his haze stern and cold.

"Watch."

You do watch. You keep your eyes on the summoning circles. Tonight, your father was going to try and bring your brother back by bargaining with death. It sounded crazy. Of course it did. No one comes back from the dead. No one.

You're afraid. The ritual had begun, and you hate it. Your father doesn't even try and comfort you. Of course he doesn't. He doesn't love you.

A figure appears in the circle, and you have to force yourself not to scream in fright. The figure is wearing a long cloak that covers him fully, and on his head is a strange mask. At least, you hope it's a mask.

Your father has the mask removed after taking its things. Is this death? You can't see his face clearly. It looks like a man, though. He doesn't move or make a sound.

You run. You have to run. Whatever it is, you don't want to be around it anymore. You run as fast as you can. The house seems so much bigger than you remember it being. You go round corners and don't seem to be any closer to your room.

You run straight into someone. You scream. You no longer sound like a child. You look up and see the man standing there. He's wearing a black coat now.

"Wake up."

His voice is deep. Unlike anything you'd heard before. Your heart was racing and you had frozen.

"Wake up."

"I can't."

The man lifts his hand up toward you, hand out like the night he escaped. You remember it all because this is a dream. He takes a step closer and you move back, tripping over nothing and falling to the ground.

You gasp and sit up in your bed. Your breathing is uneven, and your heart is racing. Sweat clings to your skin.

You freeze.

Slowly, you move your eyes to the left and then find yourself scrambling off the bed and as far away from him as possible. You keep your back to the wall as you stare at the man in your room.

"Who are you? How did you get in here?" You ask, panic definitely setting in.

"I am not here to hurt you."

"Why are you here? Why did you come back?" You ask quickly.

"I am Lord Morpheus, but you can call me Dream. That is my true name."

"Dream?"

"Yes. I came back here for you," he says quite firmly.

"Me? Why? I wasn't the one that kept you trapped down there. I didn't hurt you. I had nothing to do with anything!" You sound quite urgent. Desperate. You're clearly frightened.

"I know."

"Then why? Why are you here?"

"I came for you." He puts it so simply.

"Why?" You ask again.

"Your wrist. Let me see it."

You automatically cradle your wrist to your chest and look at him with a wary expression. You know exactly what he wants to see.

You hear him exhale quietly and watch as he lifts his arm up. He pulls up his sleeve and shows you his wrist. You gasp softly at the sight. Slowly, you bring your wrist up to his and look at the matching scar.

"What is it?" You ask softly.

"Our bond. You are rare."

"Rare?" You look up and meet his eyes. They're so blue.

"You are the soulmate of an Endless," he tells you. "My soulmate."

You can't help it. You burst out into laughter. Dream looks very confused by your reaction. Of all things that could happen, he didn't think you would start laughing.

"That's insane."

"I do not understand," be watches you curiously. His confusion only deepened.

"What the heck is an Endless?" You ask.

"I am. I am one of seven. We exist because you know deep down we exist. I am the king of dreams and nightmares. The Sandman, if you like."

"The Sandman?" You scoff softly. "He's a fairytale."

"Perhaps." He looks almost amused.

"And, what? I'm your destined partner or something?"

"In a sense."

"Absolutely not," you tell him, inching along the wall carefully. If you could reach the door you could find Paul.

"You are rejecting me?"

"Sure, if that's how you want to put it. I don't want anything to do with any of this."

"You came down to the basement," he says, though of course you already knew that. It was you, after all. "Were you not curious?"

"Well, yes. My father had summoned something, and it was living under our house. I wanted to see, but I wasn't expecting you. Then you looked at me and I was scared. What did you do to me?"

"Nothing."

"You must have!" You exclaim. "Look at me! I should be about 85 now. Do I look 85 to you?"

Dream doesn't move from where he stands as you slowly inch around the room toward the door. If you run, he'll let you, but if he can keep you in here, he will try.

"No."

"You did this to me!"

"Not intentionally. This happened because of our bond. I cannot stay here. I need to find my tools. I want you to come with me."

"Why should I? I don't understand any of this. Please." You look sad. Afraid. He doesn't want you to be afraid.

"I will not hurt you. I want to take you to my realm."

"Your realm?"

"The Dreaming," he clarifies.

"I'm so confused..."

"I understand. Everything will become clear if you come with me. You must know. You must feel it. That burn."

You look down at your wrist and run your fingers over the star softly. "Yeah. I feel it. You really mean everything you said? That we're fated or something?"

"Yes. It is unfair, I understand. You haven't been given a choice."

"Why me?" You ask.

"I do not know. I cannot question Destiny. I can only hear what he has to say, and I believe this is part of it."

"Destiny? You speak like that's a person."

"He is. My brother."

"Dream. Destiny. Death?"

"Yes. My sister."

"Oh... So, Father really was trying to summon Death. He got you instead." Some things were starting to make sense.

"Yes."

You look at him, less frightened now, but still full of questions. He could see it in your eyes. If you wanted to ask them, he would answer, but not here.

He raises his hand.

"Come with me."

"Where?"

"To London. I must get my sand."

"Sand? You really are the Sandman?"

He nods his head subtly.

"If you come with me, you'll never be locked away in a room again. You can come and go as you please."

Freedom. He is offering you freedom.

"In your realm?"

"You will be safe there," he assures you.

You close your eyes and think about it all. Alex wouldn't be a problem either way now, but you could be free of this house. Free of any trace of your father and all the things he had done. Free from your past, your imprisonment in this room.

Dream holds his hand out again. You stare at it. He is your one chance to get away from the Burgess name.

You take his hand.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @thescarletwitchjobro - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi -

[ohisms]

✱˚｡⋆ ↪ 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 ! ( a collection of sentence starters from season  1 of nbc's “ good girls ”. adjust phrasing as necessary . will be updated in the future . mature themes are present . )

specificity is good , but that's over the top .

chill , i'm like two minutes late .

alright , everybody be cool and nobody gets hurt .

do you think i could make it in L.A. ?

i don't need all that . i just want to be super famous .

you know , i'm just not really much of a church person .

maybe next time you'll take security more seriously .

oh my god , can you please just listen to me for one damn minute ?!

shame on you . shame on all of you .

move it before i shoot your face off , let's go !

you should probably get yourself a lawyer .

why is it so crazy ? i mean , it's a victimless crime .

can't you have my back on one thing , ever ?

this is me helping you not ruin your life .

damn . that was a good sell .

i should have been more careful , i panicked .

no ! i mean ... i don't know . maybe .

we're gonna rob that store .

have you lost your mind ?

we can't sit back and let everything be taken away from us .

no one's gonna fix this . we have to do it ourselves .

[ name ] ... hello ? are you okay in there ?

how did you have the money for all of this ?

i'm here to clean up a mess , [ name ] .

it's not a knock , we all have our strengths and weaknesses . you're a beautiful dummy . it doesn't make you a bad person .

this is five grand . enough for a plane ticket , and to get you started .

i guess you won't mind if i go to the cops , then . right ?

i handled it because you couldn't .

you've got a little ... on your face , kind of looks like blood .

what am i looking at right now ? WHAT am i even looking at right now ?

[ name ] , this is life or death .

i choose death . GIVE ME DEATH .

i have ... sort of a favor to ask .

it's not like you can't afford it .

what do you need that much money for ?

thank you for making me completely humiliate myself for no reason .

this is what winning feels like .

i'm gonna need you to say it with me . we are winning .

it's not like you're gonna kill me .

you don't have the guts . you're not killers .

thought you'd pull a fast one , huh ? make a quick buck ?

girls like you , you never think things through .

you've done this your whole life . you make these big messes and expect everyone else to clean it up . then you just ignore it .

you can't leave me here forever .

you are an incredible liar .

when bad things happen to good people , everyone goes crazy .

if it could happen to us , it could happen to anyone .

roll the dice . tell them to pull the trigger . see what happens .

hey , looks like we've got a survivor .

i am going the speed limit . i don't wanna get a ticket .

where does he think he's going ? boy , this is hard to watch .

if you go to the cops , so will i .

i thought we were done with this .

oh ! you'd rather just declare a kilo at customs ?

– or we could just steal it .

are you hearing yourself right now ?

do not call me crazy .

what if we get caught ?

there's always a choice .

dude , it's never gonna end . unless we end it .

i'm not gonna shoot him , i'm just gonna scare him a little !

forgive me lord jesus , i did not mean to shoot that man .

are we supposed to knock or something ?

i wanted my music for the road trip .

how long has it been bleeding like this ?

i need to take you to the hospital , i think you need stitches .

i wish everything could go back to the way it was .

i had no damn idea how good i had it until it was gone .

i know you hate me right now .

i'm sorry . i suck .

i had to do something really , really important .

what's more important than me ?

is there something you want to ask me ?

just making conversation .

you know the tradition is jordans over a phone line , right ?

be outside in two minutes or you're dead , i mean it .

it's so crazy , even saying it .

you asked for this ? you ASKED for this ?

you can't sign people up for criminal activity like it's a bake sale !

that is NOT what i meant when i said i'd do another job .

so you think you get to pick and choose what you do and when you wanna do it ?

no , i'm sorry . that is not gonna work .

what's your gut say ?

i can prove it ! i mean i can't ... but i want to .

why should i apologize ?

chill out with the cayenne .

maybe we need like , smelling salts or something .

well , i want him to not die in my house .

i am so tired of almost dying .

hey ! ... don't be mad .

you're a dead man .

shut up , just don't say anything . i will handle it .

just say you're sorry .

i wanted to do something nice , so that maybe we could start fresh .

i'm not proud of my part in everything .

oh , yeah ? what does that mean ?

[groovin-in-theheart]

💥TROLLS RANT💥

Why do so many hate Branch's brothers with such passion?

LORD GIVE ME STRENGTH

THE BROZONE GLAZING IS INsANE YO😭 I just read a fic abt them and I get that Branch is the main character and all but holy crap why do so many fics w his brothers always try to glaze over them to try and make Branch the only wronged one??

Yeah he was a baby and they left but it wasn't as if they all were over 20, y'know? Why are they always painted out to be like Branchs dead beat dads for??? I don't even think Floyd was a fully fledged teenager during the break up, preteen at best.

Some of the stories I've read have always made the characters from the first two movies and the series hate the brothers? One fic that gave the bros justice haven't been updated since early 2024😔🙏

It's okay for him to resent them, maybe even not fully forgive him but having every dang character constantly bash them and lowkey loath them, it's doing too much, dudes💀

Plz ya'll, don't make Branch the precious bean that needs protection from his horrible evil brothers

[monstersdownthepath]

Herald of Zon-Kuthon: The Prince in Chains

CR 15

Lawful Evil Huge Outsider

Inner Sea Gods, pg. 314

A great many Heralds in Pathfinder have backstories that are only alluded to, while many have no backstory and were simply woven into life by their god. Some are lucky enough to have entire histories explaining their origin and ascension to status of Herald, but to call the Prince in Chains "lucky" would be a grave and insulting mistake. There are few beings in creation quite as pitiable as the Herald of Zon-Kuthon the Midnight Lord, the Prince beginning his existence as a powerful and free spirit wolf filled with boundless love for song and life, and if you read that sentence and then flick your scroll wheel up a little bit, you can probably see where this story is going. But rest assured: It gets so much worse.

You see, the artist-that-would-come-to-be-known-as-Prince was once called Thron, and Thron loved nothing more than frolicking along Golarion, siring countless spirits of art and beauty in his wake with his many lovers. Two of those spirits would eventually come to be known as Shelyn and Dou-Bral. Yes, this unfortunate beast was Dou-Bral's father, who eagerly awaited his son's return from the far reaches of space, and ran up to greet Dou-Bral Zon-Kuthon when he finally came home. The feeling of relief and happiness upon seeing a beloved family member was not mutual, and the Midnight Lord swiftly bound his former father in razor-sharp chains, spending the next several centuries slowly, carefully, meticulously destroying everything about Thron and leaving behind nothing but a roiling nexus of hatred and pain with no memory of the ball of sunshine and song he once was.

It's easy to feel sorry for the Prince in Chains, but don't let what he was distract you from what he is now. He is among the most powerful of the Heralds, and instrument created to inflict as much pain and misery on as many people as he possibly can, and is used by Zon-Kuthon to hunt down, torture, and sometimes provide the mercy of death to those who displease him. When left bereft of orders, the Prince lazily wanders the twisted halls of Xovaikain, Zon's primary base of operations, searching for any creature in need of either enlightenment or motivation, both of which are provided via the same method and medium: chains, teeth, and powerful spells cast upon screaming flesh.

Unlike with many Heralds who may be focused on a mission and thus unwilling to pause it to roll initiative, a party of adventurers encountering the Prince in any environment is unlikely to resolve the meeting peacefully, as it relishes any opportunity to spread pain, even to innocents. Even fervent followers of Zon-Kuthon are likely to be 'tested' or 'blessed' by the Prince in a way that leaves them on the verge of death, with the rest of the party not being anywhere remotely as lucky. So let's see just what an unlucky party is up against should they hear the howl of the Prince in Chains...

Well, first of all, you're not going to get accurate stats from the Archives of Nethys. For whatever reason, the AoN still has the Prince's stats from the 3.5 version that appeared in Curse of the Crimson Throne instead of updating it to its modern portrayal in Inner Sea Gods, a source of infinite frustration for me because it means I need to keep the book open to constantly look back and forth! Ugh! I wouldn't be complaining so much if the differences between its 3.5 version and proper PF version were bigger, but unlike many other Heralds who were powered down in order to fit properly into ISG, the Prince actually got more powerful.

The biggest and most obvious jump in strength comes from looking at the Prince's melee attacks: a bite and two lashing metal tentacles. The Prince's bite is a terribly powerful strike dealing 6d6+9 damage before making an automatic trip attempt against the target, while the tentacles deal 3d6+4 damage per strike, giving the Prince one of the highest damage potentials among the Heralds. Adding onto it is Vicious Critical, turning all confirmed critical hits into an additional 2 Constitution damage as the savage attack rips away at the target's flesh; there is a small mercy in that none of his attacks have an augmented critical hit range, nor does he have Improved Critical, meaning Vicious Critical is only likely to happen once or twice in a given fight.

Unfortunately, that's the only part of the Prince's kit likely to not affect a given battle. The rest of it is geared to take as many player options away as possible, with both his unique abilities AND his list of spell-likes each capable of crippling or killing the party in unique and terrible ways. When he tires of a specific creature or find them annoying, he can use Slay Living 1/day to blast 12d6+15 health out of any creature within his 10ft space/10ft reach. With a similar amount of dismissal, his 1/day Blasphemy is likely to be used to clear out the chaff than to as an actual offensive option, the single word ending the lives of any creature not worth the Herald's time and leaving behind only those who'd survive his twisted "affections" for more than a few seconds. At 3/day he has Bestow Curse and Blindness/Deafness in case his Eyebite and Crushing Despair fail to significantly impact his foes, and an emergency toolkit in the form of Shadow Conjuration to either create disposable minions or raise illusory impediments to hopefully make enemies hesitate approaching... or escaping.

No, the Prince doesn't want anyone to escape the torment he wants to share. Any creature that meets his Unnerving Gaze is staggered if they fail a DC 22 Will save, preventing them from easily running away or fighting back, and further complicating that is his terrifying Chainstorm, a 15ft sphere of whirling chains and strips of spine-covered flesh that automatically deals 1d12 damage to any creature starting their turn in it. Failing a DC 22 Reflex save allows the chains to dig into the victims' flesh, entangling AND anchoring them to the Prince, leaving them open to being torn apart by his teeth or spells.

The Prince in Chains is almost all offense, prompted to get right into the middle of an enemy team and begin ripping into them, and he is rewarded for doing so. He is immune to both critical hits and Sneak Attack damage, denying most bursts of damage from weapon attacks. He is protected by DR 15 which requires only a Good-aligned weapon to bypass, though his unique Exaction ability heals him 10 HP at the end of any turn he managed to damage anything. Notably, this ability is indiscriminate and doesn't specifically state he needed to damage a creature, so a DM going by Rules-As-Written basically allows the Prince to have Fast Healing 10 so long as he takes a moment each round to stomp particularly hard onto a floor or walk into a swarm of flies, and cathartically ripping apart some furniture (or particularly resilient dog toy courtesy of Zon-Kuthon) after battle lets him rapidly heal to full.

Thankfully, his physical resistance just barely hides a vulnerability to magic. Only Cold stands out as his true immunity to magical damage, and he is just as vulnerable to any Save or Suck effect as any other Herald, provided the effect can pierce both 27 SR and his +17/+12/+8 saves (look at that pathetic Will save!). You know, provided he hasn't used Greater Invisibility (3/day) to tiptoe into melee and trap the casters in his reach and follow it up with a walloping against everyone's flat-footed AC, or used his at-will Deeper Darkness on his own space to prevent line-of-sight from being drawn. He doesn't have See in Darkness, but with Scent and 60ft of Blindsight, he can track foes shrouded in the darkness just fine.

The final trick the Prince has, however, is both offensive and defensive, serving just as well to shield him from harm and harm others at the same time: Howl of Despair. This incredibly dangerous ability can be used every 1d4 rounds as a standard action, blasting every non-Evil creature within 60ft of it with 6d6 points of Sonic damage if they can't succeed a DC 22 Will save... but the damage isn't the important part! The important part is that a single use of this ability at the start of the encounter, before anyone can move away from the Prince when he pops into melee distance with everyone, can spell the doom of any party member within 10ft. Any creature within that distance who fails the save against the damage is rendered permanently insane, forcing them to lash out randomly at their allies, attack themselves with their own weapons, or otherwise waste half of their turns until the condition can be cured.

The cruelty of this ability comes from trying to cure the ailment in combat, as the Prince can simply re-apply it when the ability comes back off cooldown (provided the victim fails their Will save again), as there's no 24-hour immunity clause. This essentially means all the melee fighters will be at an enormous disadvantage for the entirety of the fight, being entangled, insane, and almost constantly prone. Possibly even cursed, blinded, and/or deafened! And the Prince is both swift (40ft) and can fly (50ft), so even keeping your distance to pelt it from afar is frustrating! Fitting that fighting the Herald of the God of Pain is so agonizing, really.

You can read more about him here, but the AoN has not updated the Prince's statblock from his 3.5 version.

[jacobseed]

-- Music Monday/WIP whenever day

was tagged by my beloved @imogenkol to do this and i haven't done any wip posting in a while so maybe have a couple things i've been ignoring for months lol

tagging some people that might be interested hehe: @strangefable, @firstaidspray @dollthorne @roberthouse69 @anoramactir @skyhavens @florbelles @thedeadthree @carlosoliveiraa @shellibisshe @viktorgf @auricfog @statichvm @risingsh0t @tommyarashikage @g0dspeeed @leviiackrman @confidentandgood @courtana @cryptcombat @samuelroukin @pheedraws and anyone else who is interested, i'm officially tagging you (doesn't have to be wips, can just be music monday even tho its so late)

original 2022 maxi/ghost that i still love. (obviously will be reworked and updated but i thought it was cute.)

Simon’s been holed up in the little building for a few weeks now, his wound practically healed and closed, however, Nurse Maxine insisted that he was still not fully recovered and needed a little more time. He believed her; there was a reason she was the nurse and he was the soldier. It was his restlessness that was eating away at him, telling him he needed to get back out there and help his team. 

Gaz was still healing, much slower than it had taken Simon, but at least he was walking again and in a better mood. Maxine had to chase him around whenever he was pushing himself too hard, yelling at him that he needed bed rest - that he was going to rip his wound open again. Small threats of letting him bleed out didn’t stop the man from continuing to stay as far from his cot as possible. After a few hours, she’d give up and attend to another soldier in need. 

She was an interesting woman, occupying Simon’s thoughts for longer than necessary most days, but he’s grown a new hobby of watching her as she worked throughout the dragging days. Nurse Maxine had taken to avoiding eye contact and refusing to call him anything but Mr. Riley. Her hands were gentle - which he assured himself was how she handled all her patients - even if her smiles were brief, they were warm and brought comfort to the suffering.

----

another maxi/ghost bc they are all i ever think about.

"Maxi." His voice is muffled, drowned out by the ringing in her ears that wont seem to cease. "Maxi, I'm here. I've got you." Closer now, more breathless and filled with relief as if he was choking down his fear.

His figure is familiar and his warm hand flush against her cheek sends a shiver down her spine. Maxine leans into his touch for support against the spinning and noise in her head. Ghost is pulling her up onto her feet, holding her close against him as he begins moving away from the flipped vehicle he pulled her out of.

"Tell me, how serious is it?" She takes a deep, shuddering breath before asking. Her vision is blurring and the muscles in her body are losing whatever strength was left.

He shifts as he readjusts to keep her from falling. "You'll be fine. Just stay with me."

[vizkopa]

Damned if you Do (Devil!Doflamingo x Reader) Part 3

I WAS planning on updating something else first, but this fic really has a hold on me right now and I might just be falling for Rosinante a little so hope you don't mind :P Usual warnings for NSFW stuff and religious themes. Mentions of terminal illness in this one too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 3: Chokehold

~

It was odd to see Rosinante in a t-shirt and jeans. You had stared at him for so long, he’d had to wave his hand in front of your face before you realised he had asked you a question.

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, do you want to take the bed and I’ll take the couch?”

“Oh. Don’t put yourself out just because of me. I’ll take the couch.”

“You’ll take the bed.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Dad.”

Rosi’s little one-room cottage on the property behind the church was barely bigger than your studio apartment, but it was cosy. Crocheted blankets and piles of books seemed to cover every surface, and the windowsill was overflowing with plants all in various stages of dying. You wanted nothing more than to just collapse onto the plush looking couch and sleep the afternoon away, but Rosi had piled the tiny dining table high with books on demon hierarchies and exorcisms and intended to read every single one of them in the hopes of finding a way to banish a Demon Lord.

“I’m not that much older than you, you know.”

“It’s not my fault you give off dad energy! The priest getup really doesn’t do you any favours.”

“Yes, well, that’s kind of the point of it.”

You walked to the neatly made bed and dropped your rucksack onto it, feeling a little weird about sleeping in a priest’s bed. The duvet was pink with little red hearts all over and for some reason you found that endearing.

“I’m going to order us some food. Any preferences?”

And so it was that the afternoon crawled by, Rosi absorbed in reading, you alternating between skimming whatever you could find that wasn’t in Latin, and texting Law while empty Thai takeout boxes slowly piled up in front of you.

I can’t see you for a while. These protections Rosi put on me are hardcore. He says lesser demons won’t be able to come within fifty feet of me.

I’ll be fine. Do what you need to do. Stay safe.

You sighed and scratched absently at the skin of your neck. You reeked of holy oils and incense, and would kill for a shower, but Rosi had forbidden you from doing so until it was time to renew the wards. He had also forbidden you to leave the church grounds. Not that you had anywhere else to be, but the thought alone was enough to have you feeling cooped up.

You sighed again and snapped your book shut. “How about I just kill him?”

Rosi looked up, surprised as if he’d forgotten you were even there. “Well, there’s the small problem of him possessing control over your body. Not to mention any Lord of Hell would have considerable physical strength too.”

“What if I took him by surprise?”

“He would likely possess supernatural senses as well. I doubt it would end well for you.”

You pouted and folded your arms over your chest. “It was just an idea.”

“An idea that’s likely to get you killed.”

He set the book down on the table with a sigh and rubbed his eyes. Then he surprised you by taking a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one, cracking the window to blow the smoke out into the dreary twilight air.

You raised an eyebrow.

“I’m trying to quit,” he said defensively.

“How have I known you for two whole years and never knew you were a smoker?”

“It’s not exactly a good look for a priest to show up to mass reeking of tobacco.” He offered you one.

You shook your head. “I’m good. But I wouldn’t say no to some of that nasty communion wine.”

Rosi grinned sheepishly. “I can do you one better.” He stubbed out the cigarette and opened the dining room cabinet, from which he pulled a bottle of bourbon whiskey. A very expensive bottle of bourbon whiskey.

You raised both eyebrows. “Father, you continue to surprise me.”

He poured you each a healthy measure, then clinked his glass against yours and took his seat again. The bourbon was smooth and rich and you could feel your nerves ease at the soothing notes of butterscotch and oak.

“Not bad for a Priest,” you admitted. “How old are you anyway?”

“I turned 30 last July.”

You were speechless. He was so young. Only four years your senior.

“The hell makes someone want to be a priest at your age?”

He frowned at your use of language, but otherwise said nothing for a long while. Not until he had finished his glass and poured both you and himself another did he finally speak.

“When I was a child, my older brother was possessed by a demon.”

Shock hung in the air between you. You’d had no idea. Not when you first came to him two years ago begging for help, and not in the years since had he ever mentioned anything about his history. You supposed you hadn’t really made the effort to get to know him beyond a professional relationship though. Not when you knew your time was limited.

“What happened?”

“He killed our parents. He almost killed me. A priest died trying to exorcise the demon and… my brother didn’t survive the ordeal…” His tone was clipped.

“Holy shit, Rosi… I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “I became a priest because once I knew that kind of evil was out there, destroying lives, I couldn’t just turn a blind eye.” He finished off his drink once more and lit another cigarette.

You didn’t know what to say.

“You wanna tell me what you sold your soul for?”

You winced. Honestly, you had been expecting that question for two years.

“Not particularly,” you said. “But I suppose it’s only fair.”

You reached across the table and took the cigarette from Rosi’s finger, letting yourself take one long drag to calm your racing heart before handing it back.

“I was 16 and stupid. I was in love with a boy. I mean, I thought I was in love. You know how teenagers are.” You laughed awkwardly. “We’d been best friends for years but in our sophomore year, he was diagnosed with terminal cancer.”

“Oh, [Name]…”

You could feel tears prick the corners of your eyes but you willed them away. “I was so desperate, I was willing to do anything… And when I met a man at a crossroads one night while I was walking home from the hospital, I believed him when he said he could make my wildest, deepest desire a reality. And, well..”

“Your soul for a life.”

“Yep.” You took another sip of your drink, letting it cast its welcome fog over your mind. “It worked. He lived. And at that age ten years felt like an eternity.”

“And you and your… friend?”

You shrugged. “We grew apart. He was never interested in me the same way and eventually I moved on too.” You cleared your throat loudly, banishing the last of the tears that threatened to escape. “I was young and stupid and I guess I’m just getting what I deserve now.”

You looked up at Rosi to find that his eyes had softened. “You may have done a stupid thing,” he said gently. “But you were not stupid. And you deserve to live a full and happy life just as much as that boy you saved.”

You almost teared up again at his words, but instead you just gave him a warm, genuine smile and poured yourself another drink.

Many hours and half a bottle of bourbon later, the two of you finally turned in—you, stumbling, to the bed, Rosi to the couch once more despite your insistence that you would have been fine on the couch.

You were out in moments, but when you opened your eyes, you were no longer in the priest’s little cottage, but an extravagant bed chamber, draped in burgundy velvets and silks. On the bed, was the Demon Lord.

His eyes were closed, head tilted back against the headboard, and he was… stroking himself. Languidly. As if he had nowhere else in the world to be. Your mouth suddenly dry, you scanned the room for an exit, hoping against hope you could leave before he noticed you were there (were you there? Or were you still back in the cottage?). His voice stopped you before you could even take a step.

“I’d been wondering where you’d got to,” he purred. “Have you been hiding from me, my dear?”

His eyes were open now, fixing you with a mesmerising ice blue stare. You struggled to keep your gaze level with his as that hand continued to do sinful things beneath the silk covers. “Clearly not well enough,” you said. The words did not come out as cool as you were hoping they would.

He clicked his tongue. “Found yourself a holy man, I see. How long before he sees who you truly are and leaves you like the rest?”

“And you think you know who I truly am?”

“I can see the darkness inside you, my dear. It calls to me like mine calls to you. Don’t try to deny it.” He pressed a hand to his chest and you felt your own heart lurch in response.

How easy it would be to just crawl into his bed, to let him claim you. To finally stop fighting for a soul you were sure was even worth saving. Faster than you could blink, he was before you, naked and beautiful and terrifying. He lifted a hand to cup your chin, tilting your face until his mouth only inches from yours. You felt a twist of desire deep in your gut. “We are bound, you and I. I wore a different form then, but I still remember the kiss we shared. Do you?”

You nodded. How could you forget. It had been your first kiss. A seal on the contract that damned your immortal soul.

“I have been waiting for the moment I could taste you again.”

You didn’t fight it when he lowered his lips to yours. He tasted of pomegranate and honey, intoxicating as the whiskey that still clouded your thoughts. A small voice in the back of your head told you you were dreaming, but you shoved it aside. If this was a dream, then there was no harm in indulging. Just a little.

He deepened the kiss, and you parted you lips for him, eager to taste more of that heady sweetness. His hand found your waist and tugged you against his tall, hard body, the evidence of his arousal hot and eager against your stomach. You wound your hands in his blond hair, nails scraping as you tugged him impossibly closer.

Wake up.

The voice was there again, more insistent this time. You growled and shoved it away harder. The demon seemed to be laughing at your internal battle. His other hand grazed the length of your body, from shoulder to thigh, leaving fire in its wake and fuelling the fire between your legs. Almost as if he had read your thoughts, he hoisted you into his arms and pressed your back against the velvet-draped wall.

Fuck. You could feel all of him against you, your drenched sleep shorts the only barrier between you and that impressive length. You wanted it. You wanted him. More than anything you’ve ever wanted in your life—

WAKE UP.

You gasped awake. Darkness surrounded you. Your skin burned like a fever and your nightclothes were twisted around you and drenched in sweat, but a cool pair of hands held your shoulders. For a fraction of a second, you thought you were still dreaming and the demon was holding you down, but a familiar voice gave you pause.

“[Name]!”

Rosi knelt above you, dressed in only his boxers. He sighed in relief when he noticed you were awake.

“Thank God,” he said. “You were dreaming. I couldn’t wake you.”

“I—,” you croaked, your throat dry. You swallowed and tried again. “I don’t think it was a dream. He found me.”

You couldn’t see Rosi’s face in the darkness, but he sat up on his heels, concern lacing every word. “How? I gave you every protection I knew of!”

You shook your head. “Maybe the whiskey made it easier to slip past the wards, I don’t know.”

Now that the sweat was drying on your skin, you shivered in the cool night air. Rosi almost fell off the bed in his haste to fetch you a blanket, wrapping it tightly around your shoulders. You were grateful not just for the warmth, but because you could still feel a slickness between your thighs that—though he couldn’t see it in the dark—felt indecent in the presence of a priest.

“What happened?” Rosi sat back on the edge of the bed.

“I fell asleep and suddenly I was… somewhere else. Not physically, I guess, if my body was still here. But everything felt real.”

“Did he hurt you?”

You laughed. “I assure you, Father, it was quite the opposite.” You changed the subject quickly. “He said something interesting though, before… He said he’s bound by this contract too. Maybe that means there’s a loophole somewhere, or that he can be convinced to break it somehow.”

“You think so?”

“Maybe. I don’t know..

“We’ll look into it tomorrow. We should try and get some sleep.”

“I… don’t know if I can.”

Rosi thought for a second, then rummaged in the drawer in the bedside table. As he did so, it suddenly clicked that he was very much shirtless. And… kind of jacked? You pushed the thought out of your clearly sex-addled brain as he looped something around your neck. It was a rosary.

“Wear this to sleep. If you know the Hail Mary, maybe say a few. I think it should work until we can find a better solution in the morning, okay?”

You nodded your thanks and curled up on your side, clutching the rosary to you chest. But you didn’t sleep. You couldn’t.

From Rosi’s whispered prayers in the other room, neither could he.

[autumn-foxfire]

I've spent the better part of the day playing the new Genshin update and am in a good mood so I've decided it's time for me to tackle the London section of Detective Conan.

As I've said on an earlier post, I am looking forwards to aspects such as Shinichi's pure enjoyment about being in London but there are others that I am not *cough* the "confession" *cough*

Honestly, why are they surprised that "Conan" can speak English. His name is very much English in nature, most people would assume that he has an English parent or was raised in America/England.

But it's very cute that Shinichi did not miss an opportunity to go visit the home of his hero!

I genuinely can't believe his parents have never taken their son to London... it almost seems cruel considering they love to travel and it's clear their son would adore to visit such a location...

And you'd think that with all the connections Yuusaku has, he could have gotten his son and Ai a passport to help make their identities real and give them the chance to travel. But judging from how they've also never taken their son to LONDON I think it's pretty clear they don't give much of a damn.

It's also so Gosho can force what happens.

Ai is incredibly kind however, to give Shinichi the chance to go to London despite the risks.

Oh this also makes me incredibly sad because Ran shouldn't spend her money on Shinichi who knows he'll be coming to London, she should get souveniers for herself. Shinichi as Conan could have said he'd get them.

It's the pink shirt T-T The pink shirt of doom.

SHINICHI IS SUCH AN ADORABLE NERD!

Oh Shinichi did try and stop her from getting him souveniers. Well at least he tried to stop her.

Of course you've made her mad Shinichi, she wants to do something nice for you and you blew her off because you're hiding a secret you don't need to hide from her.

Shinichi and his ability to stumble on a case.

It's so weird to hear british accents in DCMK...

Minerva is a bit of a bitch but Ran also needs someone to tell her to ditch Shinichi and move on. Yes, what she did could have been seen as insensitive but as the audience we know that's not the case so Shinichi is just causing her more pain than needed.

Does it not concern Shinichi at all at how easy it is for him to lie to Ran? Because it concerns me a lot.

HOLMES IS WRONG SHINICHI. FOOD IS FUEL.

Shinichi DOES NOT DESERVE RAN.

Yes, that's the appropriate reaction to have to your "love interest". Flee. Fuck I hate their canon relationship so much.

Okay, but what is with Ran's reaction too?! Honestly I'd run as well. Lord give me strength.

Get hurt, idiot.

WHY WOULD SHE KNOW YOU'RE KUDO SHINICHI?!

ALL RAN HAS ASKED IS IF PEOPLE HAD SEEN A JAPANESE BOY! SHE NEVER SAID THE AGE OF THE BOY SHE WAS CHASING! MY GOD THIS IS SO DUMB!

HE'S RUNNING BECAUSE YOU'RE SCREAMING HIS NAME IN A WAY THAT SUGGESTS YOU WANT TO HURT HIM?!

Ran has every right to be mad with Shinichi but damn is this moment so contrived and stupid!

Ran is crying her eyes out and Shinichi still only cares about the case when Ran is sharing how fucking hurt she is?! RAN DITCH SHINICHI.

...4 more episodes left.

I'm honestly so disgusted that it took a half-hearted "confession" that he only did because Ran was in so much pain caused by his actions for her to forgive his behaviour. Fuck Gosho and fuck how he writes Ran.

"This is the name of a story Shinichi told me about before" and it's a flashback of her getting mad at him and then complaining about him enjoying Holmes.

"Why hasn't the killer been arrested yet?" because the police suck!

Ran doesn't even want to see Shinichi after his great "confession" how telling.

Ran just assaults the man instead of asking kindly for him to roll up his pant legs... She and Shinichi are really competing for who is the most unlikable in these episodes.

Ignoring a threat? Sounds like the police here. Unless that threat is someone who isn't white and british and usually they're not a threat.

I can understand why the English are speaking slow for the sake of Japanese watchers but it really reminds me of children learning shows and is throwing me off a little XD

GREMLIN CHILD

He was just going to tranquilize a security guard to get in T-T

I mean, out of all of them, Shinichi has the most experience with guys who chase their appearance.

Shinichi shouting out in the crowd was adorable. He's redeemed himself a little from this clusterfuck of a set of episodes.

And of course his parents already know but are just leaving it all to their young son because all parents in dcmk are SHIT. Don't forget that. "But Foxy, it's more entertaining for the MC to save the day" it is but the price of that is him having extremely terrible parents.

Okay but Gosho does realize how bad this is right? Comparing Ran and Shinichi's relationship with Ares and Minerva. Minerva said that she doesn't want Ares to hold back from what he loves meanwhile Shinichi is constantly holding Ran back and making her wait for him. He does see the difference, right.

What Shinichi did wasn't a confession. He told her she was trouble and then said how could he understand the heart of the girl he likes. MAYBE RECOGNIZE SHE IS EXTREMELY HURT AND DISTRESSED AND YOU'RE THE REASON WHY! It's a terrible confession and I am totally writing Ran rejecting it.

And Ai knows Shinichi is an idiot.

[blackcattails]

This is a lot less surprising when you realize that there are only two people in the Avatar World who can give a full accounting of the Gaang's adventures... and one of them is a cabbage merchant.

No offense to Zuko, but he's terrible at giving context or telling a linear narrative and also he's trying to fix an entire country while convincing every other country that there's no more need to come after them now that they're pulling back, no really please don't fight us anymore because pulling back from the contested areas consolidates our armies' strength at the borders so we'll probably win any further battles WHAT NO I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT WOULD YOU JUST STOP YELLING AND LISTEN TO ME I'M NOT SHOUTING YOU'RE SHOUTING! So most historians would probably decide to not bother the Fire Lord with those trivialities and search for one of his companions instead. And who else are they going to find but Sokka "let me tell you all about how I kept my sister and her friends from getting themselves killed and/or caught by the eeeevil Fire Nation (no offense, you're the non-evil Fire Nation now I'm sure)". The guy who has pretty much no major responsibilities until Hakoda steps down and absolutely no qualms about stuffing his face with fancy palace foods while telling everyone who'll listen about all the awesome stuff he did as the only non-bender of the team, and did he tell you that he had a sword made of magic space metal? He's also probably the only one who isn't going to laugh in their face when they ask for a written account (Toph), get distracted by a butterfly five sentences in (Aang) or get distracted by Aang five sentences in (Katara). Of course the rest of the Gaang is going to eventually have the time and maturity to give their own account, but by that point 90% of the updated history books will already have been written with Sokka as the primary source.

obsessed with sokka’s name kinda popping up everywhere in school books years after atla. like yeah ur learning history about the end of the hundred year war? oh right with the avatars amazing team and some non bender named sokka who probably wasn’t all that important. on to gym class where u learn different fighting styles, did you know btw that the first guy to ever train with the kyoshi warriors was some random guy named sokka? oh well. can’t be late for physics where we learn about the invention of the air balloon and the submarine by … sokka? huh okay I guess, on to politics where we learn about all these important decrees over all the different nations which were first proposed by.. ah man, sokka? again? anyway art class now, here look at these paintings made by sokka

[thelocalcryptid-s]

Greetings and salutations

Hello! I’m Salem, and I write stuff!

I made this blog back in 2020 when I planned on writing A LOT but I don’t have as much motivation to write as I used to, so this is mostly just going to be shit writing, as well as fanfics that’ll have no update schedule because having the pressure of a schedule never helps me.

Current fandoms I may write for:

- Marvel

- Lord of The Rings

- Star Wars

- Supernatural

- DC

- Twilight

- Call of Duty

(If I can think of anything else, I will update this and add them)

I usually write character x reader or character x oc

I write smut, fluff, and angst

Subjects I do not and will never write for

- Non-con/cnc (I don’t have anything against others writing it, it’s just triggering for me personally)

- Characters who are minors (I’m an adult! Writing about underage characters in an x reader sense makes me uncomfortable!)

- Incest (this should go without saying)

- Darker themes like yandere (again, I’ve got nothing against others writing it, this is just a personal preference thing)

- Zoophilia/Beastiality (this does not include monsterfucking, there is a clear distinction between monsters and actual animals, namely the ability to give informed consent and verbally or otherwise clearly communicate)

- Necrophilia (again, this is self-explanatory)

- Hard kinks (the only ones I’ll really write about are heavy dom/degradation/choking/praise/dub-con (rarely)/punishment/overstimulation/age gaps)

If I think of anything else, I will edit the post and add them

DNI list:

DNI if you’re racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, pro-life, Zionist, antisemitic, xenophobic, ableist, are a MAP (minor attracted person) or support them in any way, a zoophile, and just in general if you’re a shitty person. I don’t need negativity on my blog and any I see will be deleted. Idc if call me sensitive or whatever, you’re still gonna get deleted + blocked lmfao

————

Constructive criticism on my work is always welcome.

In fact, I encourage it, because it helps me become a better writer. But it should be constructive.

How do I give constructive criticism?

It’s easy! Here are some tips:

- Use the feedback sandwich method (1, talk about strengths; 2. share areas of improvement; 3. share positive results of areas are addressed)

- Focus on the situation, not the person (Don’t attack the writer)

- Be specific with your feedback (The more specific the better!)

- Comment on things which can be actioned on (Not things which are fixed and cannot be changed)

- Give recommendations on how to improve (Don’t just critique, be helpful too!)

- Don’t make assumptions (Focus on what you see, not what you think you know)

Obviously you don’t have to use those guidelines, they’re just general tips if you’re unsure if your criticism is constructive or not.

————

Anyways, thanks for reading this post! Hope you enjoy my stuff :)

[tears-that-heal]

Well…..today has been a day of further self-revelation, and also very exhausting. 😞 The anxious, restless part-of-me named Agnes (aka anxiety disorder) has pushed me too far. I’ve been getting easily anxious by feeling trapped in my own house, so going doordashing in our family car has been my saving grace. Now I’m facing burnout. I’ve been more excessively needing to be productive and it’s has become more difficult to wired myself down and relax. 😖 I’ve also learned that seeking a therapist must be now my top priority. I’ve been without a therapist for years, mainly due to lack of financial support. Now that’s finally changed for the better with my health insurance. Praise God!

I drove to Abilene, anxiously, with the intention to DoorDash; now I’m not sure. I originally plan to take a rest day today, but my nerves became too much for me to keep at bay. I ate some Burger King and stayed chilling in my car with Gabiru beside me. I’ve been eating way too much fast food lately; and I know it bad for me. *sigh* A minor thunderstorm came through town, and we simply waited it out. I’m still not sure if we do any doordashing. The rain clouds seem to have pasted us. Now I need to choose what to do next, but my brain is struggling to focus. Dear Sweet Jesus, lend me your aid. 💖😭 This trial is beyond me.

UPDATE:

The day ended well with me being able to do some good doordashing deliveries. The Lord gave me His peace and strength to calm my mind and gather my thoughts. Also Gabiru helped by giving me cuddles and lots of loving kisses. 💗🐶

[dailyaudiobiblechronological]

12/6/2023 DAB Chronological Transcription part 3

Prayer

Jesus, thank you for this time together. Thank you for these important reminders to keep going, to keep enduring, to boast in our weaknesses. not what we're good at, we don't have to brag about the things that we know we do well, the things we want to bring attention to ourselves to. but if we can boast in our weaknesses, then our strength is made perfect in weakness. So let us be strong enough to say that, I'm  weak enough to need you. and I pray that we will turn to you. you are not and never have been our fixer, which our spirit is our helper our guide or comforter Our Truth. I pray that we would end the chase of relevancy and embrace the Timeless message of Jesus, that it is for every person and that all who call on the name of the Lord, will be saved. Thank you for your word, timelessness, its transformation and it's double-edged sword. I praye this now in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen. 

Announcements

Daily Audio Bible, That's home base. check it out if you've not. and take a look around that's also the website. If you would like to partner with us here at the Daily Audio Bible, for small we thank you so much for your partnership. we could not do this without you, and we are so grateful we do not have to. if you're giving by mail DAB PO box 1996 Spring Hill TN 37174. or you can utilize that app and the give icon up at the top right hand corner. If you would like to be a part of the Christmas initiative, you still have time to do so. $25 donations, or you can give any variation one through five, and that donation goes toward the upgrades for the brand new app that is coming and we are excited about that. so you can go to the website and find the vinyl there and give and donate and be a part of the building of what is coming. That's going to do it for me today, I'm Jill. We will return to the book of Acts tomorrow, as well as begin the book of Romans. I look forward to that. until then, love one another. 

Community Prayer Line

This is kindergarten Katie. I wanted to thank you guys for your prayers because I've been back and listened to previous times and happened to hear someone praying for me, and it's been exactly what God knew I needed. So even though you prayed a week ago, I might have just recently heard it and it touched my heart exactly when I needed it. So thank you there's still a lot that's really hard right now, and you guys are such Incredible family so I love you. Thank you for praying for me, for my family, for each other. I'm praying for you bye. 

DABC family, this is Mindy from Nashville Tennessee I wanted to call in and let you know that today is December 2nd. and 2 days ago November 30th, my father went to be with the Lord. he went peacefully. I tried to get here in time but he went quickly, we just I wasn't able to say goodbye that day. but I had seen him the previous weekend, and I said goodbye. but he's with our Lord now and no more pain, he's healed. I just wanted to let you know that. Thank you for the prayers that you have prayed for me and my family. and I know he is at peace in the arms of Jesus. continue to pray especially for my mom. She's been married a long time and her life has changed significantly but I just wanted to give you that update. 

Everybody Wanted to request prayer. I've been dealing with migraines for a while and I thought I'd reached a point a couple weeks ago where you know maybe I had gotten past them. and maybe you know got to kind of delivered me from them completely and I had a good week and a half with no migraines at all. and fast forward to this past Tuesday, I've had a migraine basically every day. I still, despite what it looks like I still believe that God has healed me for migraines. A couple Fridays ago several people laid hands on me at an event where someone was mentioning he went from migraines. and I do believe that God will help me even though I'm coming to you now currently having a migraine, but I just need prayer. I don't know if I know they could be worse but definitely I don't know it's been tough. so just requesting prayer for healing from those, and just that I can continue to hold on to what I believe God has done for me, even if my physical reality doesn't seem to match. All right, I hope everyone's doing well, thanks.

[mammonsturtle]

All We Do Pt. 4

A/N: Thank you for reading this next part! I’m sorry it took so long, I’ve had a good chunk of writer’s block since I don’t know how I want this fic to go honestly. But this fic will be put on hold while I finish up the U & Me series. After that, this will be updated along with other short stories for Chronicles of a Fallen Warrior. :)

@kimpsuwuw @underratedbitch-number13 @shuriiiewrites@jhopesstickeredcarrier  @letsblazewolf

(Prologue) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

CW: General angst

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Mammon’s eyes groggily open as the warm blankets did nothing to soothe him of his current body aches. ‘Fuck.’ Mammon realizes that he isn’t in his room but Diavolo’s by the look of the furniture and the royal emblems and artifacts that lined the shelves and walls. But now wasn’t the time for coveting valuables.

There was a rampant pounding in Mammon’s head as morning came to, how strong was that demonus from last night? Mammon groaned as his body ached and his stomach was hating him as he felt the need to throw up. “Fuck.” he mumbled as he couldn’t even muster the strength to get up and out of bed. 

This was embarrassing and nothing new, even back in the House of Lamentation he had no sympathy from his brothers. They would just mock him for his utter stupidity, he knows. He vividly remembers the mocking laughter from his little brothers and the harsh stare of disdain from Lucifer. He truly was the disgrace of the family wasn’t he?

“Mammon?” The door opened and Diavolo enters with a tray of soup and tea. Mammon looked up at Diavolo before his innards trembled, he gagged as he tried to keep it all in, only for him to vomit up last night’s contents over the sheets. Looking away in shame, Mammon silently cursed as the sound of the tray being set down and the shadow of the Prince casted over him. 

“Oh Mammon.” Having no shame, Diavolo wipes Mammon’s face as Mammon didn’t look him despite his kind gesture. “Mammon. Please look at me.” Mammon reluctantly looks at Diavolo before quickly looking back down, who gently cups his face and lets his thumbs gently rub his cheeks, “Please don’t be afraid. I’m not them.” 

“I ain’t worth it, tat’s all.” Mammon mumbled as Diavolo gives him a soft smile as he motioned at the hangover breakfast for the second born. “You are more than that Mammon. Sheets are replaceable. You are not.” Diavolo reminds as gently kissed his forehead. “Let’s get you washed, and then we’ll have breakfast together.”

Whether it was the hangover affecting him or something else, Mammon’s cheeks were more red than usual. Surely, it was the hangover getting the best of him? 

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

It had been a few hours after Mammon had taken his hangover treatment, courtesy of Barbatos as he felt renewed and refreshed. Currently he was keeping Diavolo company as the Prince found the stacks of paperwork being much lesser by the day.

Fiddling with the rings on his fingers, Mammon chewed his lip as he stewed in his thoughts. Did his brothers miss him? They couldn’t have, they were much happier without him being there. One less burden to care about, right? No scumbag to annoy and disturb them? They were probably having the time of their lives with his absence.

“Mammon? You’re awfully quiet. Is something amiss?” Diavolo questions as the sound of scribbling pauses as the prince tilts his head and Mammon looks up from his thoughts and sighs.

“It ain’t nothin, I just have a question Lord D.” Mammon hesitated as the prince was intently anticipating and listening in, the second born sighed. “How was it you knew when to get me?” he prodded, “Didja ask Barbatos or somethin?”

Diavolo chuckles as he looks thoughtful, “I suppose I haven’t explained that to you haven’t I? I have asked Barbatos to look into the future when the time came for me to get you. I had made my word to MC that you’d be looked after but I was surprised that Lucifer treated you the worst out of punishing his brothers.” 

“I suppose I was under the illusion that you and your brothers had a good family life, though Lucifer had kept a tight leash on you and your brothers.Especially on you, Mammon. Even for demon standards this was normal, but MC found out about how you were treated and how much it affected them.” He sighs as he couldn’t forget that a mere human asked for mercy upon a demon.

“I have to apologize for not realizing it earlier, I could have saved you from years of abuse under your brothers.” Diavolo confesses as he was responsible, as he was the one who offered a home to the fallen angels, “Lucifer needs to remember who to be grateful to.” Diavolo concluded as he leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest. 

“It ain’t yer fault, nor was it your problem.” the second born replied and Mammon sadly nodded as he thought about the other offenses his brothers committed. Why was his still held to the highest degree of punishment? Even when he was innocent, he was still subject to punishment.

Lucifer always hid his feelings and thoughts behind his ‘holier than thou’ attitude that often lead to violence against him. Yet, Mammon never fought back. Levi? Never worked a day like Mammon’s hustles and yet he had the gall to spend on his indulgences. Satan? Got angry and wrecked a part of the house? Add that to the budget and no punishment for him. 

Asmo? Brought home strangers to sleep around for the night. Did Lucifer ever punish him? Or did he just turn the record player on higher? Beel? Literally ate everything in his path, and break or eat a part of the house? Not even a slap on his wrist that he did wrong. Belphie? He was just able to sleep and coast through life with his brothers without having to do much of anything. The youngest sibling did always win.

Did any of them even contribute to the family’s income or was it just him? They were fortunate that he had favored them for so long that they didn’t have to worry financially, but now...Did any of them deserve his favor?

It was time for the familial threads that bound the brothers together to be cut loose.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“Eh? The black card?” Mammon asked as Diavolo nods. He rubs his head, was he really offered with the Prince’s personal credit card? He vaguely remembered last night but he did remember Diavolo offering a card while he was in his drunken haze. “You’re givin it to me? Ya do know I’m the Avatar of Greed, right D?”

“Ah, consider it your personal card while you’re staying here with me. Along with a new D3 on me, while your’s is still at the house.” he remarks as he holds up Mammon’s chocolate lizard phone charm, and handed it to him. He noted how fondly Mammon gazed upon it, it was a shared charm with his beloved human after all. But noted Mammon’s sudden drop in mood as he studied the man’s face.

“There’s a but to this ain’t it?” Mammon asked, pouting at Diavolo as it was no different with pleading with Lucifer for his beloved Goldie. Oh his Goldie, maybe Lucifer had done away with her or sent her back into the freezer to punish him while he was at it.

“Yes. All you have to do is keep your greed in check. You will not be out stealing the royal heirlooms and sneaking to take a single grimm from the treasury.” Diavolo states as he holds out the black credit card, “It’s rather simple Mammon. You may buy whatever you want, feel free to send it all to the castle.”

Mammon raised an eyebrow as he mulled over for a bit, “And...Somethin else?” There had to be more to this, but the Prince only smiled as he leaned back in his seat. “It’s nothing difficult Mammon. I just require your company, I don’t expect you to be by my side 24/7. I don’t plan on keeping a crow in a cage forever just for my amusement, you are free to come and go as you wish. As long as you return back to me.”

Still mulling over his words, Mammon actually put some thought to this. He was to be a caged crow to Diavolo at this point. But it was much better than living back with his brothers and being mistreated by them no matter what he did. And he was already set in not returning.

“You gotta deal Diavolo, but lemme make it clear that I ain’t no pet to you. So don’t think you can go and treat me like one!” Mammon firmly asserted as he crossed his arms, a small pout visible as Diavolo lets out his signature boyish laughter. It did catch him off guard as Mammon yelped and neared falling out of his seat.

“Yes, yes. Of course Mammon. We will be equals, you are my friend as well. I would have nothing less than that.” Diavolo answers as he slides the latter the luxury card across the desk. There was a twinkle in Mammon’s eye had as an overdue shopping spree was due, and it was all on Diavolo. He would just have to be good to keep his favor with the Prince by being his companion.

Easy, right?

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

As he and Mammon sat inside an Akudonalds, the pair were still under another appearance spell. Mammon was still getting used to the spell as they could go out without making a scene.

“This is so exciting!” Diavolo happily exclaimed as he chomped down onto a burger. It may have been a mundane outing to Mammon but seeing how Diavolo didn’t have the freedom to do so, it was quite exciting for the Prince. 

 “It is?” Mammon questioned with a head tilt, “I get ya only go to fine dining spots with Lucifer here and in the human world too. All this can’t really be that amazing.” It must have been as Lucifer was the only one who ever went with Diavolo to trips to the human world.

Diavolo chuckles softly, “I am the future king Mammon. As such, I haven’t gotten the chance to experience such simple things such as this.” he replies wistfully, looking forlorn as he rubs his head. “I suppose I’m making up for it now, it’s quite embarrassing isn’t it?”

Mammon chewed his lip, perhaps being royal wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. And neither was being an Avatar either. “Erm, it ain’t that bad...Y’know? New experiences with new people and all? Can’t have em all with Barbs and Lucifer, right?” 

Diavolo chuckles, “Perhaps Mammon. It’s nice to hear your side of things,” he agrees as he took another bite of his burger, “Though I think it’d be nice to see your Devildom spots. We ought to take a drive together sometime.” 

“Ah...If I had my ride with me, maybe...I could, ya know?” Mammon’s beloved Demonio 666 Lexura was still sitting pretty in his room, and most of his belongings were still stranded there.

Diavolo knew his Demonio was one of his prized possessions, he had hand in helping him obtain it after all. He made a note to bring it back to the second born, “Do not fret Mammon, I will arrange for it to come back to you.”

Mammon looked at Diavolo, he couldn’t help but smile as it was nice to have a conversation without him having to be insulted and talked down on when he asked for his wants and needs. “Will ya? You’ll get ‘er back? And Goldie and my D3?” he asked as Diavolo chuckles.

“I suppose if that will keep you happy, I don’t see why not.” he promises as he’d have to deal with Lucifer and the brothers, “Lucifer will not interfere, I will make sure of it.” Of course, eventually, Lucifer and his brothers would know what became of their brother they so took for granted.

Looking like a kid on Christmas, Mammon couldn’t help but be excited to reunited with his treasures, “Thanks D! You’re the greatest, ya know?” he exclaimed as he let out a content laugh as his treasures would fill a familiar void in him.

Oh how sweet it sounded, it was rather nice hearing his real laughter after centuries upon centuries of his cloaking his true feelings. Diavolo had only heard it more often when MC had come into their world. He had envied MC at one point for having the ability to tap into what made Mammon bring out what was left of his angelic self.

Now it was here for his own listening pleasure.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

Beelzebub would have been thrilled to go on a grocery run for the day, yet he wasn’t. Beelzebub hadn’t been eating much as he normally did, with Mammon gone he was too worried about what happened to his big brother. He knew he should have knocked down the door that day, and was internally kicking himself over it.

The last time he saw Mammon was him being punished by Lucifer, and with his other siblings, did nothing to help him but instead went to ridicule him. Why would Mammon want to come back home after that? His stomach tightened in knots as his hunger died down once more.

He could have prevented this. No. He should have prevented from escalating to what it had become. What good was he as the family’s protector if he couldn’t protected his own brother? But now there was no use crying over spilt demonus. 

Finding himself at Devilmart, he noticed a sale on the Hellfire Noodles that Mammon loved so much. Beel sadly takes a pack and hoped Mammon would return home, he had too. He loved his family, he’d come back for them, wouldn’t he?

After getting what he needed, he headed down towards Hell’s Burger as he needed something to distract him and an attempt to fix his recent irregular appetite. Though Akudonalds was tempting too as he figured he’d get himself some happy spawn meals since Devilcat was the featured toy of the month.

A sudden sound of a demon’s laughter caught his attention as he immediately snapped out of his sadness. It sounded so familiar, as Beelzebub turned to see two male demons walking out, his attention set on the shorter demon.

Two pale demons, the shorter one with jet black hair, and the taller one with bright sapphire blue hair. Both walking out of Akudonalds and went on their merry way as both basked in each other’s company. Both unaware of Beelzebub staring them down.

Hearing the one with black hair laugh again, it brought Beelzebub a memory since long past. It was Mammon’s laughter. One that was so carefree and of pure happiness. Not like the fake laughs full of bravado he’d do so often to shield how he really felt. He could remember back in the Celestial Realm where it was him laughing along with with him, Belphie, and Lilith.

By now they were long gone from his line of sight, and it was then did Beel broke into a sprint back to the House of Lamentation.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“Any word from your contacts?” Lucifer asked Satan and Asmodeus as both brothers shook their head. The house remained in a quiet state ever since the brothers realized Mammon had gone missing, even meal times were mostly quiet. The brothers were finding it difficult to carry on their routines normally as Asmo lets out a frustrated huff and sank in his seat.

“No! And they’ve been every place we could think of where Mammon could be!” he whined as his nails remained unpainted and nervously chewed upon. His self care had been on and off for the most part since discovering Mammon’s room. “The staff at DevilStyle even are worried that he’s missing his gigs.” he mumbled lowly as the reality of Mammon being gone had set in.

He then looks to Levi as the third born was slouched deeply in his seat. “Did your internet friends find anything Levi?” Asmo asked as the third born had been locked up in his room since the discovery and refused to come out. He had only come out to eat, mostly due to Lucifer and Beelzebub dragging him out.

Leviathan was uncharacteristically silent since the disappearance as his laid his head in his arms. Even his new Akuzon purchases that lined the door, weren’t bringing him his usual unbridled enthusiasm as he could only think that Mammon had done the unthinkable.

Lifting his head, he revealed silent tears and Levi furiously shook his head, “No! He’s gone and it’s all my fault!!” he bawled out in agony as the third born had truly believed he was the reason that Mammon was never coming home. “It’s my fault!! I’m the one who kept telling him he should kill himself!!” he started sobbing uncontrollably as his body trembled from guilt.

Satan and Asmo both looked at each other before silently going over to Leviathan to comfort him. They weren’t innocent of verbally abusing their big brother. If all Asmo’s connections couldn’t find a trace of him, and he had plenty! Perhaps he could have done the unthinkable.

“You would think his hanger-ons would have an inkling of Mammon’s location, but none of them has found a trace of him.” Satan replies as he sighs and his shakes his head. “One of my connections heard a demon cursing out Lucifer at Ristorante Six last night, but it wasn’t Mammon. He did say it sounded like Mammon but the appearance wasn’t a match. Quite the opposite actually.”

Lucifer ponders the thought, someone had to be helping Mammon hide out. A spell to trick the eyes of who saw what, to make themselves less conspicuous. It must have been an advanced spell to trick most demons, “Someone is hiding him if that’s the case.”

Lucifer huffed lowly as he went over to Leviathan to comfort him, as gently as he could, held the third born. It was clear that Mammon’s absence had a profound affect on all of them, and it couldn’t be ignored much longer. “I will personally ask Lord Diavolo aid us in our search.” the eldest states as the youngest groans in response.

Belphegor had been restless as he lifted his head from his pillow. While Beel was out, he couldn’t help but feel empty and unmotivated to do much of anything. “Well...Do any of you think MC knows? Do you think he’s there in the human world?” he asked as he might have gone to Diavolo, to go to the human world. “You know how soft MC is for Mammon.” he mumbled as you had always been on Mammon’s side.

“Very well. We’ll call MC.” Lucifer confers, “And we’ll have a talk with Mammon, about everything.” A short silence had set in before Beelzebub had come back home, quickly rushing to the brothers in the dining room. He had nearly stumbled and dropping food, getting their attention as this seemed unlike him. Catching his breath, Beel looked pale as he gave them a wham line.

“I...I think I found Mammon.”

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

To be continued...

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Don’t Let Me Down: Dark!Steve x Reader (Mob AU)

Chapter 6 in the Lipstick and Crayons Series.

Chapter 5: In The Name Of Love 

Main Masterlist

A/N: Hi guys, thank you for being so patient with me! I have been editing this chapter a lot lol so i hope things make sense and there isn’t any plothole. Lmk your thoughts! Also I won’t update until August cause I have a very important exam in August and I’ll be giving up my phone soon. Hope this chapter was worth the wait, I’ve been so tired. Yesterday I passed out for a few hours while studying lol. Nevertheless, happy reading!  

Warning: Non-Con, Sickening Threats, Drugs, Mob Themes, Violence, Death, Manipulation, a mild mental breakdown, Cheap Tricks.

Genres + Characters: Mob AU, Single Parents AU, Steve Rogers x Reader.

Summary: Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob.

Word count: 6K [whew]

Chapter 6: Don’t let Me Down

Dozing off while you were kidnapped and in unchartered territory wasn’t smart, but your day had been long and fatigue had worn you out. Was it even the same day anymore?

The window behind you that provided you with light some mere hours ago was covered with thick translucent glass; that’s where your neck’s flexibility ended. The soft glow of the filtered light was no clue; the beam’s luminosity could very well be that of an early morning or of a setting sun.

Your shoulders were stiff, lower back ached the worst it had in years and wrist and ankles were raw, bruising. It reminded you of the time you had tried to go to the gym to shed the pregnancy weight, and how badly that failed. Your trainer was kind enough to go easy on you, keeping in mind your hearty toddler and hectic job. It was funny how in moments of demise, one remembers the small things, one they believed to be insignificant, their failures.

Your thoughts went to Grace and your parents next, the little sparkle in all of their eyes whenever they got a gift they had been eyeing for too long or when feasting on sugar. You sometimes believed that your dad and Grace purely bonded over their joy for cupcakes and desserts. Of course, that wasn’t true, that was the cherry on top reason for her to be his little princess like once you had been.

  While thinking about all of this, you did wonder if you would see your parents again. Given, you did worry about seeing Grace and her future but that was all you fretted about the past few days. If something happened to you, at least she’d be in the more than capable hands of your parents. Maybe it’d be for the best, they would nurture her far better than you could even dream of; a tear escaped at that reflection. You had to place your trust in the universe, it owed you at least Grace’s security for all that you’ve both went through.

Another area of your brain focused on one more concern; what about you and your parents? As much as you were a mom, you were also a kid who possibly might not be able to take care of her fragile, old parents either. They had the enthusiasm and the strength but they also needed you. What about that?

Wow, dark gloomy places can really be depressing.

Your dismal train of thoughts was interrupted by the grating sound of the metal door opening and you realized the room was more like a cell because metals bars were present in the place of one of the walls.

“I see you’ve woken up, sweetie.” The man from earlier, gigantic, burly and tattooed came inside and switched on the light. Your eyes ached as they uncomfortably adjusted to the brightness, a headache striking through your skull.

Surprisingly enough he waited, till you were done evaluating your now bright surroundings and done struggling. Not that you struggled much, you knew better than to anger the man whose mercy you were at. Look what happened with Steve.

“You ain’t a talker, I see. Well, good for me.” He let out a hefty snicker and continued, “The main rule here is don’t piss me off. My hospitality can and will get worse. Understood?”

You slightly nodded, your neck straining and stinging at the awfully easy task. Your mouth wasn’t gagged but it wasn’t hydrated either to answer this man. Besides you really didn’t trust yourself fully to not lash out at him. He was robbing you of your future, depriving you of your child’s future.

“I’m going to remove the restraints and you are allowed fifteen minutes in the bathroom. My man will give you the privacy but the door won’t be locked, so don’t try anything. Then I’ll feed you something and we’ll talk. This much sound good?” You nodded again and let him untie you; your eyes downcast the entire time, showing you weren’t stupid enough to pull anything.

His hands uncuffed yours and then he removed the rope tying your torso to the chair while you complied and sat still. He really went above and beyond to ensure your captivity, leaving room for no errors. His hands did wander but not quite far enough to warrant a reaction, but just enough to alarm you.

He patted your shoulders and you got up while he pounded the door twice. It opened and three men stood outside. He pointed to the door and tilted his head to the side, his eyebrows urging you to go.

You went outside as one soldier marched away, as if to be your tour guide, while the other two stood guard. Your legs wobbled with each stride as you struggled to catch up, limbs aching after hours of inactivity. Trying to keep track of the dingy hallways and the turns you took was a task you failed miserably at, your mind foggy, frame weary and soul spent. Your legs struggled to carry you even to the bathroom but you reached there somehow and collapsed inside on the toilet seat, your bruises from the restraints burning.

A sob threated to escape. Your reflection in the mirror was tainted and timorous, but over-all tired. Within hours of captivity, your face lost all its glow and your body all its strength. There was no way you’d be able to overpower even a single man here, much less the entire army of his with whatever strength they had in numbers.

You sighed and splashed your face as you tried to wash away the horrors with the grime.    

"What about the call?”

“It couldn’t be traced. He was prepared.” Sam answered as he watched a fuming Steve. They had been at it for hours but without any clues. They had scoured Rumlow’s properties in the city, checked out each abandoned building and tried to hunt ‘The Vices’ scoundrels but each was in vain.

The man that snuck to Grace’s bedroom to capture the picture also evaded the cameras perfectly by sheer coincidence, nothing more than a black mass showing itself. Those were personal to him and it sucked that when he let his team take charge of the cameras, nothing came out of it.

It made no sense, even his allies got to know about you last week at Sarah’s party and even on assuming news spread from there, your abduction was far too planned and strategic. Your kidnappers almost knew your schedule as good as Steve: your work offs, day-care time, Grace’s bed time. They were even able to evade Steve’s man that periodically checked on you back then. Last time Steve checked, Rumlow didn’t even have the resources for this, far less for it to come to a point to trick Steve’s men.

Now that he had collected some records about it, he noticed that Rumlow had been buying new properties left and right. He wasn’t supposed to start the territory war, the claim for it should have taken at least a few more years according to Steve’s calculations. His growth and empire, although still less than Steve’s, was developing exponentially, almost as if he had stumbled upon some unknown treasure that funded him.

Hard questions then started hitting him; and although they were brutal, they made a lot of sense. Rumlow had a new associate.

“I’m thinking we might have a mole. Or maybe Rumlow has a new investor because look at the price of these properties.” Steve tapped the various documents lying messily on his table. “His trust fund wasn’t this well-off. We need to find his new ally. Look into it. Check our assets too, don’t leave the possibility of a mole compromising us. And get Tony on the line for whatever intel he needed to verify. I need something before the day ends. Clear?”

The men around him nodded and as soon as Bucky gave specific instructions to each, they marched off. Steve looked through the files of Rumlow’s activities to see if he missed something, to get any hint of his new partner. He did have some new recruits from his trusted allies’ legions but maybe he didn’t delve deeper enough in their backgrounds.

Bucky called Stark but reached his assistant who promised a callback as soon as possible while Sam tried to track the location again and make something out of the photo of you they had gotten. He was hoping to track the next time he called, which was scheduled tomorrow.

The boys were as busy as bees and efficient to get you back, you were as good as family. Steve huffed and got frustrated at his slip up, he needed to wind-up this foe, once and for all and bring you safely to his manor where you belonged, his little family as safe as protected as it could be. Grace might not notice your absence for a few hours but then what?

You finished eating the sandwich the man had provided you, with hands still cuffed but this time in front of you. You hadn’t eaten anything even hours before your abduction, trying to get ahead of schedule just to get the errands done with.

You were the tiniest bit grateful to at least get a trickle of your strength back. He was patient and you were surprised by his calm demeanor; maybe it came easy to him because he had the advantage against Steve in whatever he was plotting.

You finished the entire bottle of water and looked at him as he put his phone down and faced you.

“Let’s start darling.” He was awfully jolly and you were annoyed beyond measure but you didn’t let it show. “I’m Brock Rumlow, your man’s worst enemy, leader of ‘The Vices’.”

It didn’t take too good a memory to remember the name of the crew that killed almost hundreds. A montage of the people that died, the children whose corpses laid on the muddy ground and the creeps that tried to abduct Sarah, endangering you and Grace in the process played in your mind. This man in front of you was a monster, ready to light the world on fire just to set off some rockets for his own entertainment; ready to drown the entire world just to enjoy the luxury of a cruise. Terror flashed in your eyes and this bastard seemed to relish in it.

“We go way back but not as buddies as you’d have already guessed. I need something that the bastard is too stubborn to hand me and that’s why you are my leverage.”

The story was short and vague but it had everything you needed to know. These idiots thought that Steve would submit and surrender just to save you? They didn’t realize you were easily replaceable and their plan would be in vain. You have known Steve, for what, just over a month now? You held no significance to him except for being a sort-of a plaything for him for a few weeks at max. Did they just spot you together and assume you were a couple?  

Your mind made theories while your eyes followed every one of his moves. He picked up his phone again and still caught you off-guard, “Look into the camera, sweetheart.” Your eyebrows furrowed and he snapped a photo, your eyes blinking away the sting due to the flash. “His demands.” He shrugged. “I need to send him proof of you being okay and unharmed every day until Monday. So, you are unscathed.” He paused and thought. “Well, for now.” He shrugged and your eyes widened at the implication. You deciphered two things. Firstly, Steve had agreed to some sort of a deal to save you.  And secondly, it was confirmed that he was not going to hold up his end of the deal on keeping you unhurt.  

Your subconsciousness broke your vow of silence as you whispered in surprise more than wonder, “What is that supposed to mean?” You didn’t know why you were so astonished; you were already accepting of the possibility of not making out alive but the way he said it made you queasy. Maybe he was going to kill you anyways for revenge, or to send a message. Or some other greater ploy.

“Sad to be the bearer of bad news, but you won’t make it out of here breathing, darling. A pretty face gone to waste, such a shame.”

“You’ll never get through to Steve then.” You stupidly enough played his card back at him, trying to convince even yourself that Steve did care about you and for once that might save you. The bastard smirked at you, taking your words as a light teasing and whipped out a cigarette with a lighter, smoking right in your face.

You looked down as a tear escaped, your mind numb as you registered your subtle pathetic pleading. Not so accepting of death now, are we? Well, who could blame you? You were only human. And survival is the most basic instinct of all.

A stream of tears slid down following the traitor, your nose scrunching, not at the burn due to the joint, but at the realization of not even getting to say goodbye to Grace.

“Aww,” the fiend mocked, “I really did want to keep you, alive and as my personal slut, as a reminder to that bastard that lost and what a fine asset, I must say.” He eyed your cleavage. “But I have to hold up my end of the deal, sweet-cheeks, and I promised your sexy body in a bag.”

You felt naked under his lewd gaze, mind speculating on who hated Steve so much that they wanted you dead? You were just an unsuspecting lady and in a matter of weeks, someone had marketed you as an important person in the Rogers’ household. And this false information now promised you your demise, literally, in an attempt to retaliate to Steve, who you don’t know why still bothered with you. But you were glad he did, the fact that he coming for you, even though he might prove to be late, was the only solace you could find in this dingy cell of yours. It was unexpected of him, but somewhere deep within you, you were glad he was willing to take the extra leap.

Rumlow left you alone to attend a phone-call and you wallowed in self-pity meanwhile. At least, whoever hated Steve and somewhat, loathed you, didn’t despise either of your kids.

Steve strode into Tony’s office, hoping that Tony calling him all the way out from his headquarters to Stark industries across the city bridge better be worth the time he was losing. Tony had called Steve back himself an hour later to invite over the next day, promising intel he couldn’t discuss over the phone. Irritated at the lack of clues he was able to collect in regards to your abduction, he agreed in a heartbeat, though slightly disappointed to wait an entire day.

Steve was ready to give a whooping thirty percent of his territory up for you initially when he got the call for specifications, but the motherfucker demanded sixty-five percent. If the deal would be conducted fairly, he would even be ready for that, yes, you were that precious and he was a man of his word, but his team and his intellect both knew that Rumlow would play a trick. Or he would go through the deal and then attempt an assassination on him, continue the enmity.

Because Rumlow and him despised each other so much, that words couldn’t explain the rivalry. They had been in the same premises only thrice till now, no party hosted them together anymore. One celebration had ended with a fist fight that sent Rumlow to the ER with broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a shattered jaw. Another had ended with Rumlow killing his own ex-spy, aka Steve’s late wife in front of everyone and then grazing even Steve’s chest with the same gun.

    Needlessly to say, they both hated each other’s guts. It was like they came out of the womb as enemies.

Steve broke out of his pondering when Jarvis greeted him and stepped into Stark’s lab on the sixty-ninth floor. Sometimes, he felt Stark was a child trapped in a man’s body, which, of course, wasn’t true given how much of a prodigy he was, how his genius was known overseas.

He found Tony examining a small black device, barely visible to the naked eye, more like a piece of tape and also drinking brandy out of his favourite glass, one that hardly left his table to even get washed. He began pouring some for his blonde friend on spotting him but Steve shook his head. No matter how appealing alcohol seemed right now, he needed a clear head to get you back home.

“This shit better be good, Tony.” He came to stand beside his tech-savvy friend, who juggled and caught the device in his fist and then opened one of his hologram screens. “It is.”

“You must have come to some conclusions about the entire ordeal by now, Cap. Tell me.” Tony sipped his brandy while Steve grew exasperated, probably due to the lack of liquor, Tony concluded.

“Fuck you if you brought me here to play games, Tony. I have so much shit to fig-” Steve was getting impatient with each second that went by and left him uninformed. He needed to know you were safe and get you home; because he knew Rumlow was a man-whore and it wouldn’t be long before he tried something if he hadn’t already. And Tony’s games didn’t help.

“That’s mean, Cap. You are busy being a hotheaded piece of shit to your best friend and here I’ve already done the entire work for you.” Tony said, remembering to curse him back, and entirely unfazed by his fuming best friend.

“What? I swear if this is-”

“I don’t joke, you should know that, Capsicle.” Joke. “And I will tell you everything I’ve figured out but first I want you to tell me your deductions. Entertain me, I want to know how good you are at this, it’s been a while since the last time I got to see you in action.”

Steve felt relief and annoyance all at once. He wasn’t even sure since when his emotional range had gotten so vast, that he felt respite and anticipation for whatever data Tony had, anxiety and apprehension thinking of you, wrath and pure rage for that son-of-a-bitch, a little anger for Tony too for drawing this out, his pal really needed to learn how to read a room. Or at the very least, his friend. He was sure though; it was after he’d met you. Beautiful and charismatic you. Oh, how he missed you. Rot in hell, Rumlow.

Steve’s jaw ticked and tensed but he complied, the sooner he danced for Tony, the faster he’d get what his friend had brought him out here for.

“I know Rumlow has a new investor, who helps from the sidelines though. And I’m also eighty percent sure, I have a mole, or more than one of them. Maybe I didn’t check properly after those four at the carnival. I don’t know how else they got a whiff of her because only you and Pepper had met her prior to the party and I know it’s not you guys. I completely trust Wanda too so-”

Tony clapped Steve’s back to stop him from rambling and grinned, rapt by his analysis of the situation. “Impressive. Now take a look at this.” He gestured to the screen still floating there as a video began to play, a video of the penthouse that he had visited with you weeks ago.

Tony poured the glass Steve had earlier refused and handed him, “You are going to need this.”

It was day two or three of your captivity. You didn’t know exactly but you realized the passage of one night after you had woken up and talked to your captor.

You didn’t really want to sleep and be vulnerable at the claws of the men here but your barely-fed self had no choice but to conserve whatever left up energy you had through slumber. That didn’t mean you were rewarded uninterrupted snooze time, nope. Your creative as fuck mind chose to show you exactly what you suppressed while awake, a mosaic of memories of your kid.

You remembered her first steps at your parent’s house in the living room towards her Pops, the time she’d snuck up on you in the garden, her footsteps light and soft; her first nightmare and how tight she clutched you, the first time she spelled her name. You didn’t even remember your life before Grace, fuck her piece of shit biological father. It was you and her against the world.

When you had somehow gotten through the night, your day was ‘graced’ by Rumlow’s presence. The man was repulsive and a total creep, his lewd comments never stopped. Neither did his wandering hands when he untied you himself twice both the days. You slept on the chair the first night and when you woke up, he was in the room, watching like a hawk.

Rumlow generally didn’t stay to check on captives personally but you were an exception. Keeping you in sights made him grin every time; you were a trophy of his dominance over Rogers. A pleasant reminder that he had already won the ensuing battle. With the territory came the allies, as everyone favored the strong, and soon he’d set out to achieve the kingpin title that Steve was too much of a pussy to.

“There you go, sweetheart.” His terms of endearment made you heave on the inside but you didn’t react much externally, remembering his one rule of not angering him. You shook your free hands as he untied your torso, his hands playing with the clasp of your bra through your shirt after. He slid his hands up to your shoulders, dangerously close to your neck and whispered, “Twenty minutes today. Shower if you want.”

You pranced out of your chair after that and his snicker reached you, bouncing off the dingy walls of the room that held you captive. Even prisons were better than them. You made the mistake of looking back at him because you found him palming himself and winking at you.

You’d have to look for bleach for your eyes.

This was the fourth time you were in this rest room and every time, you wanted to smash the mirror, take a piece of glass and slit Rumlow’s throat. You would have been worried about your thought process if you weren’t practically in the jaws of death.

You had already killed a man, why not kill another?

Unfortunately for you, your plan had too many flaws. The sound of the mirror breaking would reach outside and his men would restrain you in an instant. The low-pressure shower and the taps won’t be able to mask the noise. And even if, by some miracle, you’d be able to do that, you would go out on a limb and say that overpowering three of his men that stood in the path that led to him was unachievable for you. Besides surviving for your kid was more important to you than revenge.

You sighed and got frustrated at the fallings of your plotting, you needed something, anything that would amount to hope in your brain. Screw your rational brain for the lack of optimism.  

This bathroom was your safe space here, you refused to show emotions in front of the men but here, you allowed your thoughts to wander, even if only for a few minutes. Here, you mourned everything you were going to lose and everything you had already lost.

You sobbed and closed your eyes as your mind kept reflecting the agony you were in, as if you were trapped in a kaleidoscope, with the jewels replaced by horrors you couldn’t fathom.  

You didn’t even get to say goodbye to Grace. You didn’t know that that morning would be the last time you’d get to see her off to school. That her lunchbox would be the last time you’d cook for her. That New Year would be the last time you’d get to celebrate something with your parents. You’d miss out on her growing up; that there was a possibility she’d be orphaned. You’d miss out on experiences that were destined to be yours, well were yours until Steve had ruined it all. Brock was your personal Grim Reaper here though, and you had never hated anyone as much as you did him for robbing you of your life, not even Steve.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to shout and wrangle your abductor with your bare hands. It was because of his insolent existence, his delirious need for greed that dug your grave as a normal human. It was the realization that men like him, men like Steve, killed more than a couple hundred people, even thousands with no second thought for their lives.

And even though they were alike in their torment and ambition, you hated yourself for preferring Steve over Rumlow. Maybe it had something to do with Rumlow promising you your death on a silver platter. In case of Steve, you were destined to be just another notch on his bedpost, but with Rumlow, you were fated to be one of his prized executions.

You washed your face and shook you head, wiping your tears. You still had the generous time Brock had given you but you decided against showering, you didn’t want to undress anywhere in this building, the comfort of your unclean clothes was far greater than what a shower would have provided. Maybe, he’d be repelled by you, the dirt and grime. You grimaced as you recalled him calling you attractive like this. You hoped he hadn’t meant it, that some odor would repel him.

The man led you back to the cell, and you could see the disappointment by the lack of hygiene in your captor’s eyes. He smirked in your face though a moment late, seeming to take this as a challenge. You trembled being within arm’s length of him but by the grace of God, his phone rung, a generic ringtone interrupting the looming silence before your impending doom.

He pointed his index up, as if asking for a moment and fetched his phone. Still wary of him, you scrutinized his movements closely, the name on the screen sending you reeling back. He rolled his eyes reading the name and stormed out, likely predicting a longer conversation than he had wanted.

For the first time here, you were without bounds and free to move but you couldn’t get out of the heavy metal door anyway. Besides, you were a bit preoccupied with what realization just hit you.  

“See that?” Tony knew Steve missed what he was pointing out, because to him it was just two ladies gossiping, getting drunk on Chardonnay. Because that was what he himself saw on first glance, nothing out of the ordinary, just his fiancée and her Maid of Honor.

Steve shook his head, looking quizzically, his nose scrunched and his face was in an adorable frown. Tony was impressed that Steve didn’t whine again, instead waited patiently for an explanation. The crotchety Capsicle was now a tolerant dad, oh how the times change.

“This,” Tony opened his fist to show the black gadget he was playing with earlier, “is a high-tech bug. I mean it, really impressive nano-technology. But no one could one-up The Tony Stark.” He scoffed. “I found six of these, one in each of my main properties. This video right here, it shows how and when they were planted.”

He replayed the video with 150x zoom on the flower vase. The men saw as clear as day, when the blonde woman lifted it to admire the pattern and adhered a very minute, small black rectangle akin to what Tony showed earlier, disguised very well in the pattern. It was no thicker than a sticker or a piece of paper and yet it had transmitting capability far impressive than a lot, Tony told.

Steve absorbed each statement spoken to him, eyes bouncing between the documents on the glass table, the screen and his genius as fuck friend, Anthony Stark.

“So you mean to say-”

Rumlow didn’t come back for the rest of the night and for that you were grateful; you had a lot of thoughts to string together.

“Sharon Carter has changed allies. She wins the psycho ex contest.”

If you were not mistaken, and you knew you weren’t, Sharon’s name had flashed across Rumlow’s phone earlier. And you knew of only one Sharon, the one you met at Sarah’s party. You had no doubt assuming her to be involves, there were few with the name and in the same ‘business’. It made no sense, why would she betray Steve just to help a lowlife like Rumlow rule the city? You thought she loved him? Was it aversion you mistook for allurement?

You didn’t sleep that night, pacing around the room coming up with reasons, involuntarily trying to defend the blonde woman you had met only once. This right here was your problem, Your stupid heart of gold. This is why you saved Sarah, gave Steve the benefit of the doubt, and now were mentally defending a woman who had brought you to ruins. If the guards outside heard your pacing and murmurs, they didn’t disturb.

You didn’t even realize how the nighttime had morphed into the dawn, the evanescent glow of the stars turning into the glimmering orange light that intruded the cell through the thick glass. At some point, you had sat down, your head in your hands.

You prayed to God that if Steve really wanted to save you, he’d see right through this traitor amongst his allies. That he’d use that smart, conniving brain of his to do at least something right by you. You were miserable coming to terms with all this, and even though you hated it with every bone in your body, the truth was it had come down to you placing your hope in Steve. Only he could help you find your way to your daughter.  

The clank of the heavy door brought you out of your contemplation, hands wiping any wet residue on your face. Your head was pounding, questions clawing at your throat just threatening to spill themselves about how and why to the man in front of you.

And so, just when the bastard was about to delve in his tormenting mind plays, you impulsively yet idiotically interrupted him.

“You know, I could hear you stomping-”

“Sharon is behind this?! Why would she even-” A hollow snivel interrupted you, just like you had Rumlow. You were afraid that he might be angered but you were still dumbfounded by the revelation. Why would she even want that?

“Nosy little bitch, aren’t you?” In contrast to his crude words, he was actually amused. More so entertained than actually mad. Maybe he was just being kind for your last days; well as kind as this mobster could possibly be.

“Yes, Sharon arranged the entire deal. You’d be surprised at how much intel that minx had and even more so at the price she was willing to pay to get rid of you.” He elaborated.

“That makes no sense. Was she always a rival in disguise? And why would she go after me? We have only met once! Sharon had-” Your brain to mouth filter had just disappeared. You, in your sane mind, would never mouth off to your dangerous captor like this, as if he was your friend with all the answers. But all your wit had away and disappeared with your time in solitary, hungry and introspecting.

It was almost some reward for the bad things you went through in span of last seventy-two hours that your abductor found you amusing and your musings hilarious and chose to answer, relishing in the horror that struck across your face at each revelation like some cruel sadist.

“Wow, you are oblivious as fuck, darling.” He sniggered and then resumed with a smirk, “Aw come on, you had to be blind to not see how desperate she is for Rogers’ cock. She wanted a family with him, house full of shitty kids. Looks like that cunt didn’t tell you they were exes.”

“Then why betray him? And where do I come in this? Me and Steve weren’t even exactly friends!”

Did you offend her somehow at the party? Was that why she wanted you dead as side task?

“Well, she viewed you as a threat, silly girl.” He shrugged, marveling at your turmoil while you were literally losing your mind, you were going to die because of a ridiculous crush. “She is a silent partner; we had a one-time deal to screw both you and Rogers over. I get the expensive land and a shit-load of money to dispose you off while she gets to pick Rogers’ pieces up after your loss and weave her way back into that household. I’d say she is at a loss because of the pathetic goals she wants to achieve, but it is what it is. A cock-drunk slut is what she is.”

He concluded and smoked a cigarette, not bothering to tie you up even after realizing that you’d been unrestrained the entire time. It was fun watching you get aggravates; people with expressive faces were few and far between in this trade full of disguised immoral humans.

Fucking jealousy got you into this mess. You’d have been more than happy to let Steve go, even though he never was yours to begin with. At least he succeeded in his task of advertising you as his. Well, good for him.

A simple conversation could have avoided this. If only you had gotten a chance to prove you absolutely hated the man. Was it even rational for her to reach out and talk? You didn’t even know each other!

Well exactly! How was she so bold in assuming you were dating Steve? Bitch should have used her ‘shitload of money’ for confirming that.

You would have been concerned by your cursing but you allowed yourself a pass days before fucking dying. You deserved a happy future with your kid; you deserved to witness her first day of elementary, even college, her first boyfriend, or girlfriend whatever; her first heartbreak and walk her down the aisle decades from now! The universe owed you that much, and you were only settling. You had deserved to watch her grow, shine. Witness all her seconds, and thirds and everything she’d go through. And now, because of one blond bitch and one misunderstanding, you’ve been stripped of that.

You collapsed on the chair as you veiled your face in your hands, not wanting the man to see you cry, after you had shown days of resilience; not wanting him to witness your acceptance of the future you’d lost.

Rumlow left the room to attend a call once again and didn’t come back for quite a while but you couldn’t care less. Your heart burned and throat hiccupped as your vision remained blurred for hours. You knew you didn’t have much time left, neither to plot nor on Earth.

You cried without restraint, your screeches echoing off the walls and back again into your own ears. You just wanted to hug your little girl one last time, clutch her as tightly as she did when she had her first nightmare. That’s all you wanted your last wish to be.

But you came to the terms with the fact that you won’t get to do that. You knew your life wasn’t that generous, and you’d have to make-do with memories of her; you just hoped you’d live on in her memories after this.

The only question that remained in your mind, after hours and hours of incessant crying was, were you willing to go down without a fight? After all, you had to buy Steve some time.  

[just-here-for-the-moment]

I got Javier Peña and size kink. I can’t wait… also… can we somehow tie this into the universe of my Frankie request from before… 🤪

OMG girl, I don’t know how to work this into the Frankie fic, but only because I feel like if you had this good of a time with Javier, why would you have ever left him?? LOL… Forgive me for failing on that front, but I do hope you enjoy this little drabble/headcanon about Javier Peña’s size kink!

Update: Oh, hey, there's a Part 2 now!

Word Count: 1280

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (petite cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: mature and vulgar language; a smattering of cop/suspect roleplay; some dom/sub elements; SIZE KINK; one instance of Javier restraining your hands with his hands; one instance of a ripped dress; vaginal fingering; mentions of blow jobs and throat fucking; mention of P/V sex; Javier has a FILTHY mouth; this is pretty much just Javier talking dirty about his huge penis and how tiny you are (sorry/not sorry)

“You like that?” Javier hisses into your ear from behind as he presses you up against the wall of his hallway, one massive hand gripping your hip through your thin summer dress. “You feel that huge cock in my jeans? That’s all for you, baby.”

He grinds once more against your ass so that there’s no mistaking what you do to him, and it punches the air out of your lungs. You feel like you’re drowning with desire.

“Put your little hands up on the wall for me, sweetheart. Can’t have you trying to get away right after I got you just where I want you.” He emphasizes his command with a hot lick to the curve of your ear, and you feel your knees start to give out.

Javier’s fingers dig harder into your hip as he brings his free hand down to grab your wrist. You let him pull your hand up above your head, palm flat against the wall, and you bring your other hand up to join it.

Javier wraps his fingers around both of your wrists, pinning you to the wall as he grinds his hips against you one more time. You rest your forehead against the smooth, cool painted surface, grateful for the contrast against your heated brow.

Before you can collect yourself, Javier bends his knee and pushes it up between your legs, shoving it hard to one side. “Legs apart, open up for me. This is going to be a very thorough pat-down, honey.”

You suck in a massive gasp of air and revel in the feeling of Javier taking control. You love this game, and you trust the man to play it well and to play it fairly with you. He always gives you what you want and he’s never once come close to hurting you. But that’s the fun part, isn’t it? The hint of danger? The possibility that he could, at any time, just pick you up and have his way with you?

You love the fact that Javier has so much bulk and strength outmeasuring you. He’s more than a head taller, a good forty or fifty pounds heavier, and lots of it is ropy muscle honed from years of a physical job. Just the fact that he could very well pin you down for hours without breaking a sweat… it makes you moan.

“You hot for me already, baby? I haven’t even touched you yet.” His hand leaves your hip and you feel him skim it up to your breast, cupping it and squeezing before roaming to the other one.

Javier’s fingers drift back to the center of your sternum. He fumbles with the small buttons there for a moment before hooking his fingers into the openings between them and dragging the fabric hard to one side. You gasp and bite your lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but close. You hear the tiny pearl buttons clatter to the floor, but all he’s managed to do is pop off two or three.

“Keep your hands right there for me.” Javier growls into your ear. “Don't. You. Move.” And then he releases his grip on your wrists.

Even though you can guess what’s about to happen, you still go reeling when he actually does it. Javier hooks both hands into the opening he’s created at the bodice of your dress, and there’s the briefest moment of hesitation before you feel the pull of the fabric, the sound of more buttons hitting the floor, the cool air hitting your cleavage. You feel faint with desire, fighting the urge to slump down to the floor, let go of the wall, the only thing holding you in place.

You clench your jaw and try to remember how to breathe as Javier brings both of his hands up to cup your breasts through the lace of your bra. He bends his head down to nuzzle the back of your neck and you nearly faint right there.

Just when you think you can’t possibly take any more, Javier drops one hand down. You feel his fingers trail up the front of your thigh. He skims his fingertips up and under the hem of your dress until he reaches the edge of your panties.

In the blink of an eye his fingers dip between your leg and the lacy fabric, swiping up through your folds, straight to the source of your heat and your slick. He brings his face down to rest alongside your cheek, breathing hot and hard over your skin. You fight the urge to grind down against his hand, knowing that if you do he’ll make you wait even longer for the rest of your pleasure.

“I like your tiny, tight little pussy,” Javier whispers against your cheek. You roll your forehead to the side and let his hot words fan across your lips. The hand on your breast moves down to encircle your ribcage, pulling you tight against him to feel his erection again. “I love feeling you squeeze me… the way my fingers look so big when they’re inside of you.”

Javier’s fingers are sure and quick. Two of them tucked deep inside of you feel almost like four of your own. They are thick, one of your favorite things about him, along with the way his wide chest cages you against the wall where you stand, the way his strong arms encircle you when you have your head tucked against his front.

“Are you going to come like this? I’m not finished with you yet, but I’ll let you come on my fingers first if you promise to be good later.”

The words choke out from you in a whisper. “... if I’m good?”

Javier digs harder inside of you, reaching for the spot he knows makes you quiver, and he brings his broad thumb into play, pressing and circling your clit. You whine and bite your lip again, and this time there’s the metallic sting of blood against your tongue.

“If you let me put my dick in your mouth, slip it between those plump little lips of yours, suck all of it down for me... I’ll let you come. I’ll make you come.” You moan, a low, keening sound full of need and want, and Javier knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

“If you’re good, if you can fit all of me this time, I might even let you come twice.”

“Yes!” Your voice is foreign to your own ears, high and ragged. “Yes, Javi, I want you. I want you to stick your huge dick down my throat. Please.”

“And then? After you’re done taking me down your throat, I’m going to fuck you hard. Watch my massive cock disappear into that tight little cunt of yours. You want that?”

“Yesss,” you hiss, and your head is completely filled with the feeling of Javier stretching you open, the way that he fills you up... the way that he fucked you last week when you straddled him and he grabbed your hips and bounced you up and down on his cock like you weighed nothing.

“Oh god, Javi, I’m close.” His thumb rubs your clit twice more and he flexes his fingers inside of you, sending you over the edge. You keep your hands on the wall and promise yourself that you’ll be good for him, knowing that he’ll be good to you in return.

“That’s my girl.” Javier chews your earlobe and you finally slump, letting him turn you and pick you up. You wrap your legs around his waist and he carries you to his bedroom to finish the job.

---

Javier Peña character masterlist

JHFTM Main Masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair

[wilfywarfy]

Since idk if you’ve gotten a poly ship yet, could you do Host/Google/Dr. Iplier? Aka, the Smart Bitches

OOOOO, interesting! This is the first poly ship I've gotten, so I'm a bit nervous about it. LET'S HOPE I DON'T SCREW THIS UP!

Part getting together story, part headcanon

Host and Doc were the first two to get together.

No one in the manor was surprised by this at all, considering how much time the two spent together

Host would help Doc with his patients via narrations, while Doc would take care of Hosts eyes and occasional sore throat

So yeah, everyone in the manor wasn't surprised

The real surprise came when later in the day, Google had been hit with a sudden update

Barely any warning beforehand. Google just sat down and was struck with the loading screen.

After hours of updating, Google now had a new task to complete: Learn about human behavior and emotion

With his secondary objective being to destroy mankind, it would be useful to gather up as much information as possible

The most difficult behavior to examine was love, and affection in general

King had affection for his squirrels, Bing loved skateboarding, Yan loved... Whoever was on the list this week. But that wasn't the kind he was required to study.

Google needed a relationship to examine. And Lord knows what would happen if he dared ask Dark and Wilford for permission.

Second choice: Doc and Host

Google was terrified when he realizes that he was gaining affection for Doc and Host. He was supposed to be a killer A.I., unable to feel, love, anything!

He denied it for a while, examining every wire, circut, and line of code in his system for any error. He found none.

When he finally stopped being emotionally constipated, his confession wasn't very glorious.

"I have feelings for you two. I would hope you two have the same affections for me, but if you don't, I will start my memory wipe procedure right now."

"Woah there, Googs!" "The Host is in a state of shock at the thought that Google would ever think that Doctor and Host wouldn't reciprocate."

When they sleep, Doc is in the middle most of the time. The others hold onto their sleepy doctor, making sure he's well rested.

Host is the one that flusters Google the most, which means a lot since Google isn't easily shaken.

But Host knows how to get his fans spinning!

Host enjoys the heat that Google gives off. Doc likes it when Google is cold.

Doc prefers salty/savory foods, Host prefers sweeter foods

Sometimes when Google kisses his partners, a small shock comes out of him. Like Eve and Wall-E. He gets embarrassed, but they just smile.

Smart. Very, very smart. These three could find a way to take over the world with a can of gas, some undisclosed creatures teeth, and a tangerine. It's scary how intelligent these three are together.

Google is scared of his strength at times, so he's extra careful when around his partners. They find it sweet that he cares about them.

"I'll keep humanity around if it means I get to be with you two." "The Host's affection for his partners is unmatched. Indescribable." "You two make me the happiest doctor in the whole hospital."

I HOPE THIS WAS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YA!