#for the record i have genetically fucked up legs

[mintmatcha]

my friends in college took Me on a beginner run and I thought that meant like. A mile. turns out it was a three mile out and back. they got upset when I turned around at one mile

learning to run is so embarrassing. tell me why it seems so easy for everyone else and it's just not

[lundenloves]

dad!simon masterlist | taglist | masterlist | request info

dad!simon who will near fall asleep on the sofa, sat upright with wide legs and his arms crossed, only opening one eye to pretend he’s listening while one of his daughters rambles about school drama.

dad!simon who scoffs when another monthly subscription or amazon payment goes through his card, brows knitted together after asking just why the house has to be subscribed to four separate streaming services.

dad!simon who never remembers his kids’ friends names. it could be his daughters best friend of seven years and he still wouldn’t remember.

dad!simon who visually could not care less about the gossip his daughter waffles about, mumbling “mhm” every so often to appear engaged though shrugging when called out on his evident boredom.

dad!simon who tsks at all the parcels that come through the door day-to-day. living with three daughters and a wife, it’s constant. he detests being the only one home and having to sign for something — will actively ignore a knock on the door when there’s other people in the house.

dad!simon who (when drunk) is the height of amusement for his eldest. many snapchats exist of him being handed the phone already recording and goofily grinning into it while looking up at her “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

dad!simon who sticks post-it notes in bold handwriting to the fridge whenever anyone has an appointment due the following day. “don’t forget.” complete with a fullstop and a harsh underline of the time in military digits.

dad!simon who replies sarcastically to almost every obvious question with his natural glare, something each of his kids had genetically taken: “don’t ask stupid questions and you won’t get stupid answers.” he loves them really.

dad!simon who silenced the family groupchat as soon as he had figured out how to, only replying every other day with a thumbs up reaction or more likely a thumbs down.

dad!simon who side eyes his kids. he doesn’t mean it, yet it happens. watching throw away tv? side eye. talking too loud on the phone? side eye. wearing a questionable outfit? side eye.

dad!simon who has a firm routine. he fucking detests being interrupted, and or spoken to from the hours of five till seven in the morning. he’ll get up, have food and go to the gym all in this time frame before anyone can dent his peace.

dad!simon who sighs avidly. a long and painful sigh after any merely simple question is asked or he’s to pick up one of his kids from a night out. “fucking well told ‘er not to expect me past twelve.” while accidentally slamming the door behind him, keys jingling around his finger.

dad!simon who struggles to show affection in any other way than a short pat of the shoulder or a one armed hug, pulling his kids into his chest for mere seconds before stepping back.

dad!simon who groans whenever anything gets moved in the house. his military mind in favour of keeping things in one position, untouched and moved for preferably ever unless he was told. though, having kids didn’t quite work like that.

dad!simon who: “do i ‘av to do fucking everything in this house? eh?”

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob

˗ˏˋ university is still kicking my arse into next week. i joined the football team too, fuck knows why i’m making myself busier than i have to be. alas here we are, and i’m feeding the pigeons! aka sprinkling dad headcannons until i get traction again. pls love me, pls follow me, pls reblog, pls validate me.

the reason i tag this as ‘x reader’ as it’s ur fuckin family with him. no one bite my head off man i can’t be bothered tonight.

[avionvadion]

Part Three of "I have no self control so here ya go"

Warning: El isn’t affected by the song magic in Hell/Heaven so she ends up singing whatever songs she knows from her time on earth. In this chapter, it's "Two Birds On A Wire".

I've decided this takes place just before the Pilot episode. So Angel has not been recruited yet, and the hotel is still the "Happy Hotel".

This one is a LONG one.

Eleanora took a seat at the table while Lucifer got to work, the letter set beside her just so he wouldn’t toss it away after having second thoughts. One leg crossed over the other, she propped an elbow up with a hand against her cheek, and watched as the devil king stood at his desk, hyper-focused as he fiddled with magic and various materials that he summoned out of thin air, his back facing her. 

She didn’t want to bother him, seeing as he finally had motivation and was willingly doing something without panicking or trying to run away. Making rubber ducks really was something he seemed to be good at… which makes sense, seeing just how many he had. 

The brunette leaned to the side, staring at the ducks that were leaning against her legs and feet, before shifting so she was looking at Lucifer again. She observed his blond hair, eying his slender form closely. 

It was a little embarrassing to think, but…

Charlie really took after her daddy, huh? Not just in personality, but looks too. Her height is probably from her mom, though. 

Hot damn. 

Eleanora may not have ever dated anyone, actively going out of her way to avoid relationships, but she does admire a beauty when she sees one. It just so happens that said beauty is the father of the person who saved her life, and  also just so happens to be the literal King of Hell. 

Is he much shorter than she was expecting Lucifer fucking Morningstar to be? Absolutely. Is that because of the ridiculous beauty standards from the country she was raised in? Most definitely. Did it bother her at all? Hell no. 

If anything, it made him… cuter? While simultaneously more intimidating. Rather than looming over her, he could get right up in her face to threaten her- which he has done once already, as well as made a few rather intimidating faces, but also… just… 

Flustered her. 

Was the King of Hell supposed to be so touchy-feely? She can still vividly remember the feeling of his hand on her waist as he pulled her in close and danced around the magical lake he had created with his song. Eleanora was very much not good with eye contact for extended periods of time, but he made it so hard to look away. 

Gods, being in Hell has been a super bad influence on her. 

She’s only been here for the better half of a week and, after all those years she spent avoiding relationships like the plague- which she literally did have to do due to the recent pandemic, she's now checking out the literal devil, Lucifer Morningstar, while he makes a rubber freaking duck that’ll spit out rainbows and glitter. Sure, they’re technically in each other’s age range, but he was immortal, older than the earth itself, and she was a measly human. He’s literally the father of the person she made a pact with. 

Someone splash me with holy water, please. 

Her face is burning, the woman having made herself flustered due to her own indecent thoughts. 

Is this a fucking genetic thing? Her eldest sister definitely had a thing for single fathers, considering her recent track record of partners, but Eleanora didn’t realize she also had a thing for them. Perhaps this was just proof of their relation? Jesus, I’m in trouble. 

Their first meeting was bad enough- Eleanora had a nearly ten year difference with her eldest sister, and because Lucifer looked like he was in his thirties and Charlie in her very early twenties- like, barely past twenty-one- the woman fully believed he was the princess’ brother. 

Not that… Eleanora knew Charlie was the Princess of Hell at that time. 

Eleanora was fully convinced that he was Charlie’s brother, and was very confused because she knows Charlie said it was her dad coming over, but he sounded and looked so much younger than she had been expecting. 

And he was gorgeous. 

Did he look like a snake, with his big yellow eyes and red-slit pupils? Oh yeah. Even his skin was as white as snow, and if she hadn’t felt it herself by accident during the songs when he got a bit too close she would have believed it if his skin was actually scales. His teeth were admittedly a little terrifying, what with how large and sharp they were, but it wasn’t in a bad way? They were scary, in a… good way. 

Pleasant way. In a way she definitely shouldn’t be thinking about, since he was Charlie’s dad. 

Who the hell said the devil should be a short king that absolutely loves his daughter, is both terrifying and gorgeous, is kind of ridiculous, and has one hell of a singing voice? 

…God themself, probably. 

Damn it. 

Eleanora has been getting used to people bursting out into song- and by that, she means Charlie- but being dragged into the musical numbers was certainly a first. Who’d have thought she’d actually dance with the devil? Her life has gotten so out-of-hand. At least she can breathe now; that’s really the only good thing that’s happened since coming down to Hell. 

Well, untrue. 

I’d be dead if Charlie and Vaggie didn’t find me when they did… 

Everything had happened so fast that Eleanora doesn’t really remember everything, but one minute she had been drawing on her cintiq and the next she was falling, falling, falling down into darkness. Things went black and when she woke up, this creature covered head-to-toe in fur with shredded clothes, piercings, and horns was standing over her, knife in hand like he was about to sacrifice her. 

Probably was, too, since she was laying on a pentagram drawn of blood surrounded by dozens of lit wax candles. 

She barely lifted her head in time to see Vaggie, a woman with long silver hair and ashen purple skin, stab the demon through the chest, delivering unto it the very fate it had been trying to do unto her. Charlie was shrieking, absolutely losing her mind at the sight of Eleanora. 

The Princess of Hell scooped Eleanora up into her arms, muttering dozens of apologies and asking even more questions about how a human like her got here, while Vaggie went through the dead demon’s phone- because demons have phones in Hell- and discovered the bastard had tried to reverse engineer a summoning circle only to summon her, and then tried to sacrifice her while she was still unconscious in a second attempt of getting to Earth after his first scheme failed. 

It was… weird, and made very little sense to her, but Eleanora didn’t have any choice but to go along with it and let herself be carried to the Happy Hotel the two were attempting to run. 

Charlie asked Eleanora some questions, asked even more, panicked when she started to have an asthma attack, on the verge of falling unconscious, and frantically made a pact with her to save her life. The actual terms of the pact came after. 

A couple days later… Charlie called her father. 

He showed up immediately, teleporting to the front door, and Eleanora then embarrassed herself thinking he was Charlie’s brother. She then learned Charlie was a fucking princess and her dad was the King of Hell. 

Of all the people- she was saved by the heir to Hell’s throne? Holy shit. 

But, perhaps even more embarrassing, was Charlie trying to get Eleanora to sing to Lucifer about her situation and how she ended up under his daughter’s care. He was the same height as her, but his gaze had been fierce and intimidating, cane in his hands as he stood tall beside his much taller daughter, and practically ordered her to sing since that was what Charlie wanted. 

“It was… pitch black, I was laying on my back? I opened my eyes, saw a knife, knew things weren’t right? And… there was a demon, I was screamin’. A-And then Charlie… ooh, I can’t do this. This isn’t working. Charlie-!” 

“No, no, you’re doing great!” The princess had exclaimed. “Keep it up! I’ll be your backup vocals!” 

“I don’t think-” 

“It’s okay.” Lucifer had told Eleanora then, holding a hand up, looking very unimpressed by the whole thing. “Take your time. My daughter wants you to sing… so sing.” 

She felt like an utter clown. 

Thankfully, Charlie took over the majority of the song so Eleanora actually ended up as the backup vocals. Vaggie, unfortunately, wasn’t at the hotel at the time since she was out grocery shopping, so Eleanora had to face the King of Hell alone. 

After that horrible first meeting, Charlie made the two exchange numbers in case of an emergency. 

Eleanora should be fine since she has the pact with Charlie and merely has to summon her if she’s ever in danger, but Charlie was worried because the brunette was a live human in Hell and didn’t want to take any risks. Charlie was absolutely terrified for Eleanora’s safety. It was sweet of her, if not baffling, as Eleanora was unused to such heavy concern from anyone that wasn’t one of her siblings, and as a result found herself going along with it. 

Who’d have thought that would lead to Lucifer calling her frequently to ask after his daughter and her wellbeing? 

And now… here they are. 

Man, the back view of him with his tailcoat should not be as nice as it was. It was pure white, accented with only the slightest bit of red, two dots resembling an apple core embroidered in the curve of his lower back, and it fit him. Very, very well. Lucifer was giggling and muttering to himself, saying something about how these rubber ducks had to be perfect. He was incredibly excited now that he knew for sure his daughter would like the gifts. It was ridiculously attractive. 

Suddenly, a small yawn escaped Eleanora’s lips.

She blinked slowly, realizing just now how sleepy she was. It had been late at night when Lucifer called her, the woman having just been about to get ready for bed, but then he abducted her. 

“You’re calling… to ask about Charlie?” Eleanora remembered asking, baffled that he was doing this so late in the night. She had grown used to the frequent calls asking about his daughter, but this was definitely a first. “Why not just call her?” 

“Call her!? She’s- well… She’s busy! Probably. She might not pick up!” Yeah, because she’s asleep. “Just answer the question! Has anyone been bothering her? Give me names! W-Wait, no, has she been eating properly? She’s not wearing herself out with this hotel business, is she!?” 

Panicked. Concerned. 

Lucifer had sounded absolutely frantic. 

“Ah.” That explained the late night call. It was hard to imagine, but his anxiety must have gotten the better of him- and though she was tired, Eleanora tried her best to answer and calm him down. “Y-Yeah, she’s fine. And she’s not so busy that she’d ignore a call from you. I got so scared when your name popped up on my phone.”

Seriously- 

“Why not invite her over for some tea so you can catch up?” 

A pause, and then- “Invite… her over?” 

Eleanora had nodded, even though she knew he couldn’t see it, a sleepy smile on her lips. “Yeah, she’d love that! She once told me that she always wished she could get to know you better! If you aren’t comfortable calling her, why not write a letter? If you want, I could deliver it for you?” 

There was a long moment of silence.

“Y-Your… Majesty?” A surge of panic rushed through her. “F-Frick, was that out of line!? I’m sorry! Forget I said anything! I-“ 

Looking down at her phone screen, she blinked, realizing the call had ended. Lucifer had hung up on her. 

“Fuck.” 

Eleanora had begun to panic, fearing the worst and that he might kill her for her impertinence, when the devil himself appeared behind her several minutes later, grabbing her arm and flashing her a wicked grin. He told her she would only die if she “messed this up” and proceeded to envelope them in red mist, teleporting them to his castle. 

Thus, Lucifer kidnapped Eleanora… and demanded her assistance in writing a letter because all the ones he wrote in that short span of time had been horrible. 

“I don’t know what to write.” He stated bluntly. 

“…Ha?” The two of them ended up sitting on the floor, surrounded by crumpled papers and rubber ducks, and he had yet to let go of her arm. 

“What should I write in the letter?” 

Man, looking back on it, even though it’s only been a couple hours, it feels like an eternity since that conversation happened. What time is it now? It’s gotta be way past morning, 

A pact with the princess, a deal with the king… 

Her head fell from her hand to rest on her arm against the table, eyes sleepily watching the ever-focused back of the hardworking Lucifer before slowly closing, drifting off into sleep. 

Doubt I’m ever gettin’ into Heaven now. 

Her parents would literally cry. Well, not that she really cares. She was already a disappointment, anyways. 

…

The next time Eleanora opened her eyes, she wasn’t at the table anymore- instead finding herself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling, a bright crimson blanket tossed over her resting form.

Blinking her eyes open and groggily looking down, she saw she was now sitting in a much larger chair, a pink-and-white striped pillow strategically placed between her head and the armrest. At first, she was very confused because she could have sworn she was at a table, but then crossed that out as a weird dream, before realizing she wasn’t exactly at the hotel either. 

Maybe that was also a dream, but… she didn’t recognize this chair and she especially did not recognize this blanket. 

“Huh?” Ah, whatever. She’s too tired for this. 

Her legs dangling off the other end, she yawned and closed her eyes again, about to doze off once more into sleep. Until it hit her… that the only way she could have moved was if someone had carried her. 

Eleanora also remembered that she wasn’t at the hotel right now, and since this wasn’t her house that meant the hotel wasn’t a dream, which meant this wasn’t a dream, which meant the only person who could have moved her was Lucifer. The King of Hell. 

She was still in his castle. 

The brunette immediately shot up into a sitting position, the pillow falling to the ground. “What!? Huh? How did-” 

The door to the room opened, and Lucifer came walking in, a tray holding a circus elephant-designed tea set in his hands. He jumped, eyes wide upon seeing Eleanora awake, and he let out an awkward laugh before rushing over to set the tray down on the table she had fallen asleep at. “O-Oh! You’re awake! Hi! Good morning! Kind of. It’s actually afternoon now. So sorry! I know I’m the one who brought you here and all, hehe, but, uh, yeah!” 

Lucifer stood up straight, clapping his hands together, looking very uncomfortable and like he’s forgotten how to talk to her during the time she’s been asleep. 

“Sooo….” The short king held up a finger, offering her a weak smile. “You hungry? I mean, it’s the least I can do, seeing as you stayed up all night to help me with the letter and even came up with the idea for the glitter-and-rainbow rubber ducks, and… all of that.” 

“Uh…” Eleanora stared at him blankly, then glanced at the tea tray he brought. She looked down at the pillow that had fallen and the blanket she was still using, before looking up at him again. She offered an equally awkward smile. “A little? Um, i-if… you really don’t mind. P-Please and thank you…” 

She really doesn’t want to intrude or overstep whatever boundaries and rules there are for this kind of thing. He was royalty after all, among other things. But she was really hungry. 

Lucifer practically jumped out of his boots in his excitement. “Yes! Of course! I mean, we’re basically friends now, right? Ahaha! A friend should offer a friend food! H-Here!” 

He rushed over to stand behind the chair she was on, grabbing the sides, and Eleanora let out a startled shout when he pushed it and her towards the table, knocking over several mountains of rubber ducks in the process. By the time the chair had stopped moving, Lucifer was already pouring her a cup of tea, setting it down in front of her and then snapping his fingers, several plates of breakfast food appearing in front of her- most of which were pancakes. 

Eleanora was frozen in place, eyes wide as could be. 

When she looked up at him, she saw Lucifer was rocking on his heels by the other side of the table, sharp teeth bared in a smile, one eye somewhat squinted. He nervously tapped his fingertips together. “D-Does it look alright?” 

“Y-Yeah!” She choked out, wondering if maybe this was the dream. “Uh, thank you! Really. I- uh, appreciate it.” 

“Good, good! Glad to hear it!” Lucifer laced his hands together, beaming, and stood there for a long minute, body completely stiff, before he reached out and tugged out a chair, several rubber ducks falling to the floor. He took a seat. Lucifer waved a hand at her. “G-Go ahead and eat! Don’t mind me.” 

Perhaps it was because her eyes reminded him so much of a doe, but she truly looked like a deer-in-the-headlights. “O-Okay…” 

Eleanora tentatively picked up a fork, poured some syrup onto what she prayed were normal eggs, pancakes, and bacon, cut herself a slice, and took a bite. She relaxed almost immediately, humming happily with the fork still in her mouth. 

Lucifer’s shoulders became noticeably less tense, his smile more relieved now. “Good, right?” 

“Mmhm!” Covering her hand with her mouth once she removed the fork, she chewed for a moment and swallowed, flashing him a grateful smile. “Thank you for the food!” 

He beamed. “Of course! Can’t have Charlie’s favorite human starve now can I? Haha, ha!” 

Well, that was a fake laugh if she ever heard one. 

“I’m actually rather fond of pancakes myself! The softer and fluffier, the better!” 

Lucifer shifted in his seat, starting to fiddle with his fingers before grabbing at a random non-deadly rubber duck and messing with it. 

“But th-that’s not- that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. We, uh, you and me-“ He coughed into a fist. “We made a deal! And… I-I think things with Charlie might actually go well?” 

Taking another bite of food and cutting one of the pancakes, Eleanora looked up at him with raised brows and curious eyes. 

“Charlie seemed- over the phone- she seemed really excited, a-and she said she liked all the things you thought she would, which means she might really like the letter and the gifts, and- well, y’know, I feel like I can- like I might actually be able to be a dad to her again!” 

Eleanora said nothing, merely letting him get his thoughts out. 

He ended up rambling the entire breakfast, and stopped only long enough to pour her another cup of tea with the elephant teapot when he saw she was about to do it herself. “You’re the guest! Don’t bother! Uh, where was I?” 

“...Charlie?” 

“Oh, yes!” Lucifer brightened immediately. He was squeezing the rubber duck like it was a stress ball. “So, I just- really, kind of- wanted to thank you? For… being so understanding and nice and not… getting upset… with me?” 

Finished with her plate, the brunette took a small sip of her tea before making a face. “The only thing I think I should be upset with is the kidnapping bit.” 

“Which is totally valid!” He exclaimed, standing up, the rubber duck being sent flying over his shoulder as he tossed it behind him. “I get it, really, I do! You were just minding your business and then the big boss of Hell came waltzin’ on in and stealing you away!” Lucifer waggled his eyebrows and let out another awkward laugh, holding his hands in the air. “Makes perfect sense. But I-” 

Seeing her quietly raising a hand, staring at him, waiting for a chance to speak, he cut himself off and blinked. 

“Yes?” 

“I… I said I think I should be upset with it- not that I am. Or was.” She made a face. Lucifer furrowed his brows. “You haven’t hurt me and you didn’t kidnap me with nefarious intent, so…” Eleanora gave a small shrug, lifting the cup up to her lips to take another sip of the tea. “It’s fine.” 

“...I see. G-Great! Wonderful.” 

He sat back down. 

Sitting completely still, Lucifer puffed out his cheeks, his eyes big as he stared into nothing, his thoughts running a hundred miles an hour. “Glad to… hear it.”

Outside, Eleanora was appearing calm. 

Inside, she was losing her absolute fucking mind. 

The King of Hell kidnapped her, then dragged her into a couple musical numbers. After giving him some advice and making sure he couldn’t back out of giving his daughter the letter he wrote, Eleanora fell asleep at the table. When she woke up, she realized he had carried her over to a much more comfortable chair so she could sleep, and then he pushed said chair with her still on it towards the table, and summoned pancakes for her to eat. 

Now he was apologizing… and thanking her? He was calling her a friend? 

No person has ever given her whiplash as much as this man has, because holy shit what is happening? Why is he being so nice to her all of a sudden? Is it really because they made the deal and because he truly believes the letter will go over well? He’s supposed to be the devil.

Honestly, she was a little worried… but overall Eleanora was convinced everything would go over well. 

Lucifer truly seemed to love his daughter- and Charlie said to her once before, on the day she introduced Lucifer and Eleanora to one another, a short while after the man left the hotel, that she always wanted to get to know her father better. So long as they communicate, it should be okay. 

They… do know how to communicate, right? 

Eleanora stared down at her empty teacup, purple-and-white stripes staring back at her. 

I think… I might be in trouble. 

She glanced up at Lucifer- only to freeze when she saw him just staring at her, smiling. 

“So!” He began, somehow looking both excited and terrified at the same time. “How… e-exactly are we gonna go about giving Charlie the letter? And… the rubber ducks?” 

Eleanora set the teacup down, doing her damndest to keep her breathing steady and to not panic. Something she likes to think she’s gotten good at after ending up in freaking Hell- where she could literally die if she took a wrong step upon leaving the hotel- even though she totally did panic earlier when Charlie called. “Well…”

Stay calm. Just breathe. 

Even if the King of Hell called her a friend, there’s no way he actually meant it. He might very well keep his promise to kill her if this goes wrong or if his relationship with his daughter worsens due to her interference. 

“I was thinking…” How can she say this without crossing the line? She fiddled with the teacup before slowly speaking with her hands, heart beating so fast she was scared it would burst out of her chest. Eleanora prayed- oh, the irony- that the devil king couldn’t hear it. “How about… after you take me back to the hotel…”

Lucifer leaned forward, nodding with each word, eager to hear her plan. “Uh-huh, uh-huh!” 

“I call Charlie, ask her to wait in the lounge, and…” 

“Give them to her!?”

She was thinking more along the lines that he gives the letter and gifts to Charlie with her acting as backup, but… okay. 

Maybe she can bring that up at the hotel. 

It’ll be fine. 

“Y-Yeah!” 

Lucifer jumped up, knocking his chair over as he threw his hands up into the air, laughing excitedly. “Great! Shall we go right now!? The sooner we get it to her the better!” 

“Huh? O-Oh! Uh, yeah! Sure!” 

Okay, no, Eleanora is starting to panic. This could go really bad. Maybe. She doesn’t actually know. 

This is the first time she’s getting involved in another family’s drama other than her own. She’s given advice plenty of times and that’s always seemed to work- it was the sole reason why the “friends” she had kept her around for so long before completely ditching and abandoning her after graduation- but she’s never been actively involved in the drama. 

Not to mention that her whole survival is sort of depending on this working out well…

“Alrighty! Let’s get going then!” Lucifer ran around the table to reach her, and Eleanora yelped when he snatched her hand and yanked her up onto her feet. The short king was practically vibrating in his excitement. “Whoa, can’t forget the gifts!” 

He snapped his fingers.

Eleanora didn’t know where the gift box and letter had been moved after she fell asleep, but wherever they used to be didn’t really matter since they suddenly appeared in front of her. With a small screech, she shot her arms to catch them, yanking her hand away from Lucifer’s. 

Cradling the items close, she gave the devil king an incredulous look. “W-Warning!? Please?” 

He just flashed her a beaming sharp-toothed smile, gently grabbing her shoulder, and as a look of confusion crossed her face they began teleporting. Eleanora’s vision was completely obscured by red mist, and as soon as it cleared and she could see again she saw that they were standing in her old dingy hotel room. 

Whoa. “That’s… some really smooth magic.” 

Lucifer grinned, chest puffing out a little proudly. “Well, I am the king. Or did you forget that I’m the Lucifer Morningstar?”

She pretended to think about it. “I meeeean…”

“Wha- oh, really!?” He looked deeply offended. “You actually forgot!?” 

“No!” Eleanora couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her, and Lucifer blinked. “I just wasn’t expecting it! I was so scared the first time I didn’t really focus on the actual teleporting. I always figured it would be kinda like… I dunno…”

He watched her struggle to explain, curiosity in his gaze. 

Eleanora twisted a hand awkwardly in the air. “Being pulled apart on like… a molecular level? Disassembled and reassembled? Or maybe painless and whole, but really dizzying?” 

“That sounds awful.” Lucifer deadpanned. “And highly uncomfortable.” 

The face he made was so disturbed, Eleanora barked out a laugh, finding it hilarious. Lucifer startled at the reaction, eyebrows raised high on his forehead. “Y-Yeah, it really does! But that’s how everyone writes it as being! Which… makes sense? In a way? I guess it’s just us humans trying to “logic” it even though it’s just plain “magic” and “magic” is… magical! Ahaha!” 

“Hehe…” He let out a small chuckle, not looking nearly as disturbed as before. Lucifer’s features actually started to soften, and he began to lean forward- only to stop upon realizing he didn’t have his cane to support his weight. He settled for awkwardly resting his hands on his hips instead, tilting his head and grinning at her. “I suppose that’s true. You humans don’t exactly know how to accept a miracle as it is.” 

She nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “T’is true, t’is true. I’m still trying to rationalize how Charlie managed to rescue me in time before that demon sacrificed me, buuuut there’s probably not much point in wondering about it.” 

Lucifer is actually questioning that himself, but he’s more curious why it was Eleanora that was summoned and not another filthy rotten Sinner. This definitely isn’t the time to be thinking about it, though. 

“…So…” 

Eleanora blinked, turning to face him. Lucifer flashed her a nervous smile. He moved so he was standing face-to-face with her, lifting his hands up to nervously press his index fingers together. 

“This is the part where you call Charlie, right?” 

Panic round three, here we go. “R-Right! Of course. Th-That’s the whole point of this, right? Haha… uh…” 

Nerves utterly wrecked, Eleanora carefully moved to set the gift box and letter down on a nearby dresser and pulled out her phone, tapping open her most recent contacts and hitting Charlie’s name. Lucifer hunched over, hands curled close to his face, biting his lower lip in anticipation as he listened to the phone ring. 

When Charlie picked up, he inhaled sharply through his dagger-like teeth, holding his breath. “El?”

“Heeeey! Um, are you at the hotel right now?”

“Yes! Is the surprise ready?”

Eleanora glanced at Lucifer, her smile a bit strained. “Just about~? Uh… c-can you go wait in the lounge for me? I’ll be there in… like, five minutes. And… close your eyes? Pretty please?” 

“O-Oh, of course! Absolutely! Eeeek, I’m so excited! Okay, okay! I’ll see you in five! Ooooh, I can’t wait!” 

Charlie hung up. 

Eleanora felt like she was standing on a tightrope, one that was wobbling and leaving her to dangle precariously as she struggled not to fall off the edge. Her stomach churned when she saw Lucifer looking up at her in confusion. 

“Eyes closed?” He echoed, brows furrowing. “Why would she need her eyes closed?”

Oh, gods, this was going to be hard. 

Careful not to drop her phone, Eleanora flashed the devil king as encouraging a smile she could muster, gesturing to the gifts and then to him. “I was thinking, maybe, just a suggestion, really, that the surprise would be even better… if you’re there as I give them to her?” 

Lucifer’s face immediately went blank. 

“O-Or!” She stammered, stepping back and holding a finger up. “Even better! You could give them to her, a-and I’m there for emotional support! Charlie would love that, y’know!? Sh-She’ll be so happy to see you, and combine your presence with the letter and the ducks- I mean…!” 

Eleanora let out an awkward laugh. 

“She’ll be bouncing off the walls!” 

“…You-“ Lucifer’s face seemed to recover some form of emotion, his brain finally catching up and processing everything she was saying. He pointed at himself, face a mixture of concern and confusion. “You want… me… to deliver the letter?” 

“I’ll go with you!” The brunette hurriedly exclaimed. “It’ll be good for you guys! R-Really, really good!” 

He looked hesitant, turning partially away from her as he brought his fingers up to his lips, starting to gnaw at his gloves again. “I-I dunno…” 

“It’ll be great!” Eleanora insisted, becoming a little pleading, as neither confrontation nor persuasion were her strong suits- but she really needed to convince him to do this. For both her sake, and theirs. “You… trusted me this far, so why not a little further? She’s waiting downstairs. I-I mean, sure, I haven’t known Charlie very long, but… she’s super honest! I know she’ll be happy to see you.” 

At her words, Lucifer fell silent and lowered his head, glancing over at the gift box and letter she had set down. His teeth were really starting to dig into his fingers, golden droplets of ichor starting to glimmer through the torn fabric. 

Eleanora could feel a slight frustration build up in the midst of her anxiety, but she tried to calm herself and think. She’s been able to get him to come this far, but now he’s trying to run away again. 

To give up. 

He was scared of the responsibility he’d have to take if he followed through with it. That’s why he always quit while he was ahead and settled for waiting. Yet waiting doesn’t do anything, except broaden the gap until the years fly by and an abyss has formed. If left on his own to deal with this, by the time he’ll figure out what’s happened… it’ll be too late. 

Eleanora could feel some of the strength leave her, gazing at the depressed wreck that was the King of Hell, only to squeeze her eyes shut and rip her gaze away to stare at the old wooden door, wracking her brain to try and figure out what she could say to get him to work with her. 

Does he need another song? What is even with Hell and its need for musical numbers? 

Eleanora loves a good musical and listened to music constantly every single day before coming down here, but she’s never had to sing to comfort someone or cheer them up or to make a deal or… anything of the sort. She only ever sang for the fun of it, but even that was limited due to her severe asthma. After she graduated and was ditched by her friends, and her health fell so downhill right before the pandemic, she even stopped socializing with people that weren’t her siblings. 

She doesn’t know how to comfort people. She’s amazed she’s even gotten this far. 

Encouraging Lucifer, convincing him to finish the letter and to make the rubber ducks… all of it had been so difficult for her. She was lucky she could even think of the right songs to sing. But what is she supposed to sing now? 

What would even resonate with him? 

The sun goes down, the stars come out, and all that counts is here and now; the universe will never be the same, I’m- 

No, that won’t work, even if she did change up the lyrics to make it sound like she was talking about Charlie. The middle part didn’t fit at all. 

History Maker? 

Eleanora dismissed that one, too- although she should probably keep it in mind in case he needs encouragement for something that doesn’t involve his daughter. If he has a big idea he wants to make but thinks it’ll go bad even though it’ll be fine, she can sing that then. Yeah. 

But what about right now!? 

In a moment of desperation, she unlocked her phone and flicked through one of her many playlists, nibbling at her bottom lip. Her heart was racing again, the woman feeling as though everything- her survival, Lucifer and Charlie’s father-and-daughter bond- was hinging on her finding the right song to sing. 

After a painfully suffocating moment of her stomach dropping into the pit of her stomach, Eleanora feeling the seconds tick on by like the end of the world was about to occur, she finally stopped scrolling, finding something that may just work. 

Googling the lyrics to refresh her memory, she pocketed the device and took a deep breath, mentally screeching at her heart to calm down. 

She can do this. 

How is she going to do this? No idea. But Lucifer is still biting his fingers and- 

Dude, stop, you’re hurting yourself! 

Eleanora had moved before she realized it, boldly snatching his wrist and tugging his hand away from his mouth. His red gaze shot up to meet hers, eyes wide as could be, and she swallowed down the lump that had caught in her throat. 

Lips parting, not knowing what to say, the lyrics came out.  “Two… birds… on a wire~!” 

Fuck, she’s gotta commit to the bit now. 

“One~ tries to fly… away, and the other… watches her close… from that wire.” 

It didn’t take Lucifer long to figure out where she was going with this. 

“He says he wants to, as well,” Lucifer curled his lips back at Eleanora’s words, seeing her narrow her eyes at him as she slid her hand down to grab his, squeezing his bleeding fingers, “but he is a liar.” 

“I’m not-“ 

“Aren’t you?” She questioned. Lucifer faltered. “Do you or do you not want to see your daughter?” 

So much pain crossed his face then, Eleanora felt like an absolute villain for this. Thankfully, the next few lyrics were exactly what she wanted to say. Loosening her grip, she let a small smile fall across her lips, and she stepped back towards the door, bravely grabbing and lifting his two hands up in an attempt to get her point across. 

“I’ll believe~ it all~!” Oh, ew, her voice cracked. “There’s nothing I won’t understand.” 

Lucifer lifted his head, yellow eyes growing wide as his red irises dilated. 

“I’ll believe~ it all~!” Giving his fingers a gentle squeeze, she tugged him towards her. Rather than pulling away or keeping his heels rooted in place, he found himself walking towards her, and she laced their fingers together as she rested their hands against her chest and over her heart. Eleanora gave him the gentlest smile she could muster, internally cursing herself as she could feel her eyes water. “I won’t~ let go~ of your hand.” 

She doesn’t know how to fight or survive in Hell without help, without relying on the princess or her kingly father, but she genuinely did want to help them. 

Charlie has been so kind to her, saving her without even knowing her name or how she got there until Vaggie figured it out. She made a pact with her just to keep her healthy. Eleanora owes Charlie so much. 

And Lucifer… 

Well, he could definitely be scary, but he’s clearly been through a lot and had a lot of anxiety on top of his fairly obvious depression. He’s probably been on his own for so long, and had been hurt so badly by his divorce, that he didn’t know how to show his emotions properly, or how to even act on them. He was so terrified of being rejected by his daughter that he’d rather reject himself so she wouldn’t have to. 

He wasn’t very friendly when they first met, but he hasn’t been mean to her. When she fell asleep watching him work, he carried her to a more comfortable chair and not only gave her a blanket, but also set a pillow under her head so the armrest wouldn’t mess up her neck. 

Lucifer was… kind, which is something she never expected from the King of Hell. But maybe that’s just because she never gave it or the old biblical stories much thought in the past. He was the devil, a fallen archangel, and yet- at the same time- he was so… human.

Fitting, considering it was he who gave humanity free-will in the first place. 

“Two birds… on a wire~!” The brunette sang softly. “One~ says “come on” and the other says “I’m tired”. The sky is overcast… and I’m sorry…” 

His eyes began to water, but when he tried to look away Eleanora moved to meet his gaze, careful not to let her smile fall. 

“One more or one less… nobody’s worried. I’ll believe~ it all~! There’s nothing I won’t understand.” The corners of her eyes crinkled sweetly, and the blond king bit his bottom lip, staring into her sincere eyes, his emotions threatening to spill out in the form of tears. “I’ll believe… it all~ I won’t let go of your hand.” 

She tugged him towards the dresser she set the gifts on and unlaced her fingers from his left hand, but didn’t let go as she lifted and rested that very same hand on the letter. Eleanora could feel his hand tense beneath hers, the man so deeply terrified of something that should be so simple. 

“Two… birds…  of a feather, say that they’re always~ gonna stay together.” Brown eyes glanced to the side to stare at the so-called devil king, and Lucifer lifted his head, desperation painting across his handsome reptilian features as he looked at her. “But one’s… never going~ to let go… of that wire. He says that he will, but…” 

Eleanora paused, and Lucifer’s hand twitched against the letter. 

She let her smile fall. “Is he just a liar?” 

“…No.” Lucifer’s expression hardened. When he turned to face Eleanora this time, his crimson eyes were burning with determination. “He’s not.” 

Picking up the box and letter, he took in a deep breath and then gripped Eleanora’s hand tight in his, surprising her when he began to march towards the door. His gloves sparked with magic, fixing the tears his teeth had made, hiding any and all blood that had been spilled. 

“Let’s go find my daughter!” 

Eleanora yelped as she had no choice but to take after him. “I-I wasn’t done with the song!” 

“Doesn’t matter, you did good! We’re doing this! No take-backs!” 

Well, that works out, she supposed. It’s a little… weird he’s still holding her hand, but... she doesn’t really want to bring it up. It was just a part of the song, but he seems to be taking it pretty seriously. If holding his hand is all it takes for him to actually talk to Charlie, then that’s fine with her. 

She’d actually kind of like to be friends with Lucifer- even if said friendship is just another lie in the end and she’s bound to be forgotten and left behind. 

Two birds… on a wire~! 

It’ll be nice in the moment, and that’s what she wants to focus on. 

One~ tries to fly away and the other~ watches him close from that wire! She says she wants to as well, but she~ is a liar… 

There were a lot of twists and turns, and after a little too long of running Eleanora had to dig in her heels and ask the devil king to slow down, wheezing and struggling to catch her breath. He was visibly startled by her exhausted state, having not realized how fast he was making her run, and flashed her an apologetic smile as he waited for her to recover. 

Two… birds… on a wire~! 

Lucifer made himself walk after that, the nervousness starting to show now that the hotel lounge was in sight. All that was left was for them to head down the staircase. He looked at the woman beside him nervously, the anxiety making itself known now that they were actually here. 

One tries to fly… away… and the other…

Eleanora gave him an encouraging smile, and giving his hand a small squeeze she gestured with her chin towards Charlie, who was sitting patiently in a chair, a large beaming smile on her round, very pretty face. Vaggie was standing beside her. 

Lowering her voice to a whisper, Eleanora said, “Trust me.”

Then, without further adieu, began to guide the King of Hell down the staircase. 

Hearing the footsteps, Vaggie looked up- only to gasp when she saw Lucifer beside the human woman. “What!? Why is-“ 

Eleanora was quick to hold a finger up over her lips, silently asking her to be quiet. Vaggie’s jaw dropped, and her expression only twisted more, brows furrowed in heavy confusion, when she saw the way Lucifer’s hand was entwined with hers. Charlie swayed in her seat, leaning towards her girlfriend excitedly. “What is it, Vaggie?” 

“Uh, n-nothing!” She stammered. “The surprise is just�� very… surprising?” 

“Oooooh~! Does that mean I can open my eyes now!?” 

“Not yet!” Eleanora rushed over upon hearing the question, panicking, and once they were both standing in front of the two women she tapped Lucifer’s hand. 

The short king blinked, looking down with a befuddled face, only to jump, having not realized he was still holding onto her. He released the human, moving to hold onto the gift box and letter with both hands, and Eleanora grabbed Lucifer’s shoulders so he was in front and standing directly in front of his daughter. She gave Vaggie a thumbs up, and then directed it towards Lucifer, flashing him one last encouraging grin. 

He was completely frozen, a smile plastered on his face in his fright. 

“It’s okay.” Eleanora mouthed, “You got this. I’m here.” 

Swallowing thickly, Lucifer nodded, and they turned to look at the blonde who was doing her absolute damndest to stay still and not open her eyes. 

“Okay, Charlie…” Eleanora began, feeling her voice rise alongside the stress and excitement. “Open them!” 

Charlie’s eyes snapped open so fast, it took a second for her to process what she was seeing. She stood up, alarmed. “Dad!?” 

“Surpriiiise~!?” He made himself sing, while Eleanora threw her arms out from behind him, popping out to the side. 

“Tad~ah~!” 

“What… you…” She clearly did not know what to think, fumbling for words and pointing at the two adults. “Huh!?” 

Vaggie smacked a hand to her face. “I said it was surprising…” 

“Wait, hold on!” Charlie brought her hands to her face, looking at Lucifer and then Eleanora. “You… were with my dad? This whole time!?” 

“Maybe? Anyways, not important!” The brunette jumped sideways and gestured to Lucifer, trying to focus everyone’s attention on him and what he was holding. “What is important is what he has to say!” 

Charlie has never felt more lost, but turned her gaze back to her father anyway. He cringed a little as he smiled, lips spreading wide and his sharp teeth baring themselves to the world. “H-Hey, Charlie~! Sweetheart. We, uh, didn’t… r-really get to talk before, but, uh, hey! Hehe.” 

An awkward pause. 

Eleanora stepped closer as subtly as she could and tapped his boot with her shoe. He stiffened, and in an almost robotic fashion held the gifts out to his daughter. “H-Here! I… um… I-I was wondering, if… if… you aren’t… aren’t, um, y’know…” 

As he struggled to get the words out, Charlie shared a look with Vaggie before reaching out to take the gift box from him, the young blonde woman holding the envelope up and observing it with both curiosity and confusion. There were several cutesy looking doodles on the paper that Eleanora definitely did not remember being there before. She could make out rainbows, hearts, Charlie’s name, and a duck. 

“Busy? Uh… haha…” Lucifer was sweating.

Eleanora could feel the second-hand anxiety. 

Deciding it was now or never, she rested a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder, causing him to inhale sharply and go silent, the man freezing in place. Eleanora flashed Charlie the sweetest smile. “Your dad was wondering if you were free sometime soon! He wanted to invite you over for tea. Maybe hear more about what you’re trying to do with the hotel?” 

“Wait…” Her eyes widened, and she looked at her father in shock, unable to believe what she was hearing. Slowly, her features began to soften, her eyes welling up with tears. Charlie held the gift box close, pressing the unopened letter to her chest. “Really? You… actually want to spend time with me, Dad?” 

Lucifer snapped out of his daze, hearing his daughter call out to him. “Y-Yes! Of course! Charlie, I-“ 

Lips curling back, he stepped forward, and Eleanora moved to stand beside Vaggie, quietly watching the scene take place. 

“I always want to spend time with you. I just…” Lucifer hesitated, and after a moment looked away, ashamed of himself. “I didn’t… want to bother you.” 

“Dad…” Charlie was fully crying now. 

She practically threw herself on him, gift box in one hand and the letter in the other, as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him tight. Lucifer wasn’t much better, tears stinging his eyes as he curled his arms around his daughter’s back. 

“I’d love to come over and talk! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask!?” 

His lips curled back and he tightened his grip on her, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “Charlie-!” 

“I’ve missed you~!”

“I’ve missed you~!”

“I always wanted to know you~ and now I have this chance!” She pulled back, arms resting on his shoulders, as they gazed tearily into each other’s eyes, smiles on their near identical happy  faces. “I won’t let it pass me by, so don’t you even try! Dad, I can’t wait to come over! I’ll have to start planning in advance~ what to tell you, of course, because there’s just so much to go over!” 

Charlie let out a squeal, and Lucifer laughed in both anxious relief and overwhelming delight. She pulled him into another hug. 

“I can’t wait!” 

They stood there hugging for quite some time, to the point where Vaggie raised a brow and turned to Eleanora, who blinked and stared up at her. “What?” 

Glancing at the father and daughter duo who were hugging and smiling through their tears, Vaggie grabbed the older human’s arm and dragged her over to the stairs so they could talk without disturbing them. Once there, she looked down at her with narrowed eyes. “How long have you two been planning this?” 

“Huh? Oh…” The brunette made a face, looking up at the dusty ceiling and thinking about it. “Since, like… three or four am? He called me before I went to bed and… yeah. I suggested he write Charlie a letter, but he was having trouble so he kinda… kidnapped me?” 

Vaggie no doubt was remembering them very specifically asking if she had been kidnapped, and looked at Eleanora in disbelief. “So… what? You were just at the King of Hell’s house… all night?” 

Eleanora shrugged, trying not to think about what Vaggie could potentially be implying. “He needed help- and I like Charlie. She’s a sweetie.” 

At that, Vaggie paused… then smiled and let out a soft chuckle, turning to gaze affectionately at her girlfriend who was now chatting happily with her father, opening the gift box and absolutely bouncing in excitement when she squeezed the rubber ducks just to see that they spat out rainbows and glitter confetti. They had adorable little ribbons tied around their necks. “Yeah… she is.” 

The silver-haired woman looked back at the awkwardly smiling brunette, who was definitely wondering if she was in trouble and about to be kicked out of the hotel. 

Thankfully, that was not what Vaggie was thinking. It was the furthest thing from it. “Thanks, El. I don’t know what you did to convince him to talk to her, but… you just made Charlie’s year.” 

She choked. “H-Her year?” 

“Charlie’s?” Vaggie laughed. “Ohhhh, yeah.” 

Suddenly, the Princess of Hell called out, waving a hand at the two of them, one of her arms wrapped loosely around her short dad’s shoulders. “Oooh! Vaggie, Vaggie, come here! I didn’t get to introduce you last time!” 

Now it was Vaggie’s turn to tense up and look awkward, having to face the most dangerous and deadly thing of all… the father-in-law. “O-Oh! Right! Of course. Um…” 

She walked over and gave Lucifer a timid wave, mustering up a smile. 

“Hi.”

Pulling away from Lucifer, Charlie set the rubber ducks and unopened letter down, moving to stand beside Vaggie and lift up one her hands, smiling down at her encouragingly before they both looked at the blond king, who was beaming brightly up at them. “This is~ Vaggie! She’s my girlfriend!” 

Lucifer’s eyes practically bugged out of his head, and Eleanora cringed, realizing just now that he had no idea his daughter was a lesbian. 

He seemed to take it fairly well, though… in the only way an awkward and formerly estranged father could. 

“Oho, my golly! You like girls!” Lucifer laughed, resting a hand over his chest- his poor heart nearly jumping out of his ribcage from the surprise that his daughter was dating someone. He brought a hand to his cheek, then fervently gestured from himself to Charlie and back to him again. “Yes- well, uh- so do I! We have so much in common!”

He tossed his arms out, his panic evident with how quickly he was speaking.

“You put ‘er there, Maggie!” Vaggie reached out to shake his hand, not at all seeming perturbed he got her name wrong, only to yelp when he tugged her into an abrupt hug. “Welcome to the family! Ahaha! Ha! Yeah…!” 

He released her and she stumbled back, laughing awkwardly herself. “L-Lovely to meet you! Uh, sir?”

“Call me Dad!”” Lucifer looked up at Charlie, praying she approved of him approving. “Sh-She’s so pretty! Hehe.” 

Charlie flashed him a smile, wrapping an arm around Vaggie and pulling her close. She pressed a kiss to her girlfriend’s forehead, her red eyes shimmering with what was most certainly the purest form of love as she gazed down at Vaggie, who was deeply touched by Charlie’s affection. “Isn’t she?”

Eleanora remained standing by the staircase, silent and forgotten. 

Okay, well… this looks like it’s going well. Eleanora nodded to herself, taking a step back up onto the staircase. They don’t… need me anymore, right? 

Lucifer seems like he’ll do just fine on his own. 

I’m just… gonna run away now. 

She’s not part of the family, and she’ll just feel uncomfortable if she hangs around, bound to stand in a corner silently the entire time the three talk. Eleanora has spent the majority of her life as an extra forgettable wheel in her old so-called friend groups; she’s not about to continue that in Hell. 

Besides, her job here is done. 

Charlie and Lucifer… can only go up from here. 

Seeing them, and Vaggie, happy was good enough for her. 

Taking a deep breath, she turned around and started to quietly sneak her way up the staircase, doing her best to avoid the creaky steps. She had gotten halfway up when she suddenly heard a loud, 

“Whoa! No, no, no! Where do you think you’re going!?” 

By the time she looked behind her, Lucifer had already snatched her hand, having run up the stairs with incredible speed. The brunette was frozen, eyes wide as could be, baffled by the look he was giving her. 

“No running out on me!” He exclaimed, voice a hushed growl. “You promised!” 

“B-But you-“ Eleanora was so confused. “You’re doing great! You got this!” 

Lucifer yanked her hand, and if he wasn’t right there to catch her, she might have fallen down the stairs. He lifted his face right up to hers, the brunette’s nose nearly touching where he should have one. “I do not got this! I am clearly panicking! I could say the wrong thing at any second! Please! Don’t…” His expression softened. “Don’t leave me on my own.” 

Brown eyes gazed into pleading red, and as she stared at him, observing his facial features and taking note of the sheer intensity of his emotions, trying to pinpoint what it all was she was seeing, Eleanora started to have the strangest feeling that this was about more than just being afraid of talking to his daughter by himself.

Unfortunately, before she could say anything else or ask him about it, she heard Charlie calling out from her spot in the lounge,

“Dad!? El? Is… everything okay?” The blonde couldn’t hear what either of them were saying. “What’s going on!?” 

Eleanora peered at the blond from over Lucifer’s shoulder, feeling his hand squeezing hers in a desperate search for encouragement, the devil king needing someone by his side. “Uh… nothing! Um…” 

Frick. This probably looks super weird, doesn’t it? 

“I, uh…” Should she bail or stay with him? It’s hard to run off when he looks so scared. “I was just-“

“Charlieeee~!” Lucifer sang, spinning on his heel and tugging the brunette down so she was standing beside him. “Sweetie! Sweetheart. I-I just didn’t want little Ellie here to sneak away before I could give credit where credit is due! Haha! Isn’t that right, Ellie!?” 

“Credit?” She echoed, befuddled by his declaration. “What… credit? Credit for what?” 

He didn’t answer, instead making his way down the staircase and taking her with him, his hand holding firmly onto hers. When they were in front of Charlie and Vaggie again, he tugged Eleanora close and held up the hand he was holding, flashing the human a wide grin. “You came up with the idea to gift Charlie the rubber duckies! I made them, but you came up with the idea!” 

“Awww, is that true!?” Charlie gushed, squishing her hands against her cheeks. “El~ that’s so sweet! I can’t believe you really worked with my dad just to surprise me!” 

“I-I was just- oof!” 

Eleanora was not prepared to be tackled by the Princess of Hell. “Thank you, thank you, thank you~! I don’t deserve a friend like you!” 

Wait, what? 

“I’m so glad it was you who ended up down here!” 

Charlie paused. 

Loosening her grip, she pulled back and gave the stunned human an apologetic look. “I mean, I’m not glad you were forcibly summoned against your will or anything like that and are kinda stuck down here in Hell until we figure something out, but like- I’m glad it was you that was summoned? Because you’re super nice? Not that I’m glad you’re down here, or that I’m glad you’re down here, but I’m glad that it was you who ended up down here? I mean-“ 

Realizing Charlie was about to ramble herself into a stupor, Eleanora snapped out her shock and held her hands- and Lucifer’s, since he still hasn’t let go, like he was afraid she’d run away- up to try and calm her. “I-It’s all good! I got it! I… know what you meant.”

“O-Oh! Good.” Charlie smiled awkwardly and stepped back, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I started to confuse myself a little, hehe. Uh…”

Her gaze landed on the hand Lucifer was holding. 

Charlie’s red eyes flickered over to her father, who was smiling, focused solely on his daughter, to Eleanora, who was also staring at the blonde. “Well! We don’t… have anything super fancy we can prepare for dinner, Dad, and we only just started working on the hotel so we still have a lot of work to do to make it more… presentable, but… if you’d like to join us…” She raised her arms up in a hopeful shrug. “The offer’s there?” 

“Abso~lutely!” Lucifer exclaimed, stepping forward and pumping the air with his free fist. He was grinning as wide as his face would allow, practically standing on his tiptoes. “I’d love to!” 

Charlie clapped her hands together, beaming. “Great! Vaggie?” 

The silver-haired woman was already heading up the steps, making her way to the kitchen to start cooking. “On it!” 

“I’ll show you around in the meantime, Dad! Come on!” She waved him over, gesturing for him to follow her, tactfully deciding not to question why her father and the human she recently made a pact with were holding hands. “We’ve got so many plans for this place, just you wait! When it’s ready, maybe you can come over and have another look!” 

In the end, Eleanora had accepted her fate, realizing she had somehow unintentionally become Lucifer’s emotional support human. But whether that was a good thing or bad… 

She didn’t really know. 

“Oooh,” Charlie squealed, waving her fists excitedly in the air, “I can’t wait until we get our first real resident! Today’s a great day! And I can just tell tomorrow is gonna be amazing, too!” 

Eleanora also didn’t really know why Lucifer’s hand felt as nice as it did. 

She just hoped no one would say anything weird about it.

[createacamillahect]

went down a very sixth research rabbit hole for a fic recently and apparently no one can agree what squirting is due to varying definitions and conflicting results when evaluating fluid source and composition, so may i suggest cam and (trans?) pal squirting experiments for science?

they can write a paper on it later for genetic outreach but really it's an excuse for them to have lots of sex. it's important to be thorough! pal tests out every method he can for making cam squirt, varies every condition he can manipulate and control for, and repeats each trial both with and without necromancy looking at the activity in her glands and organs as she comes. he loves studying her body and gets distracted by her especially in the beginning so they have to redo several trials. sometimes she tries to distract him on purpose.

when it's pal's turn to be the subject, cam is all business. she doesn't have pal's perfect memory and can't write things down in the moment so she dictates observations to a tape recorder while fucking him. (this is not strictly necessary, as she has perfect memory of anything involving him, but she likes how embarrassed he gets when they listen back through the tapes for her to transcribe notes). pal gets gender euphoria from the burst of fluid even if it's not coming out of a dick so cam is extra motivated in determining the most reliable ways to get him to squirt, and doubly likes it for the excuse to bribe him into keeping hydrated outside of 'research sessions.'

after they meet pyrrha, they convince her to help them with a new round of trials. after all, there are new variables to be tested and it's good to make sure your results are replicable by other people.

Omg....

Hot..

(what a prompt)

several ideas so several dashes.

The sixth house has an exorbitant amount of money to spend on genetic research. The day Juno Zeta received a request from the Warden was the last day of her involvement in the field.

----

Palamedes can make Camilla come with just his necromancy and they love it. His favorite is doing so after she has orgasmed several times and is whiny and overstimulated.

Very rarely do they catch the fluid with a vial so they shift their methods. They begin catching it in their mouths and spitting into the vials. They have to account for the components of the spit afterwords.

Palamedes holds Camilla's eyes as he spits in the test tube. She enjoys watching his full lips pucker and his dragging his tongue along the edge to retain any traces of fluid.

------

There are several things they do to ensure the integrity of the samples.

They shower beforehand together, for one. Camilla runs her hands up his bare front before dipping her fingers down to his cunt. She drags her fingers around his clitoris and along his folds as she kisses along his neck.

Likewise, Palamedes kisses her shoulder before falling to his knees to warm Camilla up beforehand.

For a few runs they don gloves, varying the material to rule out trace variants.

Palamedes reacts especially well to the gloves, which causes Camilla to grin into him and dictate his extra sensitivity into the recorder.

They gain plenty of research that way.

-----

There are failed trials.

Camilla pulls Palamedes into a kiss, biting his bottom lip as he thrusts the strap into her, hand dropping the vial from Cam as he comes, abandoning it to pull her body back against him, hands grasping at the flesh of her thighs to pull her closer.

Pyrrhas semen contaminates some of the samples.

-------

Positions that bring them the most pleasure vary as well. Camilla prefers to ride Palamedes' face while Palamedes, ever the pillow princess, likes to be on his back with his legs thrown over Camilla's shoulder.

He especially enjoys watching his come coat Camilla's face, even if it doesnt end up in the vial. Gender euphoria, he supposes.

-----

When they ask Pyrrha to join she has a few ideas as well. Specifically, temperature, and she drags ice cubes along Camilla's nipples as Palamedes eat her out, seeing if that affects anything. They get more samples and Camilla is less likely to move afterwords.

They ask Pyrrha about gloves and she brings a leather pair home from work. Pyrrha disinfects leather gloves before using them. Palamedes reacts well to them, but curiously, Camilla reacts well to the leather as well.

Palamedes also has the opportunity to takes notes from the head of the bed as Pyrrha fucks into Camilla on her hands and knees in front of him. Camilla takes the time to distract him, edging her face across the bed until she pants over the crease in his shorts.

Palamedes clear eyes study Camilla's face as she rides Pyrrha's, and similiarly Camilla watches intently as she scribbles in a notepad from a chair as Pyrrha sucks Palamedes off.

They decide that the added voyeurism might skew the data so they also record trials on a video camera for study later. And if rewatching the recordings leads to a threesome, well, data is data.

[seriously-mike]

Better A Fratboy Than A Presbyterian

In the grim darkness of the far future there is only war. You know the deal. Bugs, robots, space elves, communist aliens, ork football hooligans and so on. Such a state of events is crazy, untenable and there are apparently two ways to deal with it.

You can figure out that the immature jingoistic fratboys praying to Prosperity and Democracy are the Helldivers. They're basically the last fifty years of US Army in pop culture distilled into something so over the top that you'd have to be really dense not to read it as satire, particularly when it goes "How do you like the taste of AAAARGH MY LEG!" Those guys are ridiculously stupid yet gung-ho jocks armed with potentially dangerous weapons and routinely calling in heavy ordnance at danger close. Their motivation is to put the sonofabitch on the other side six feet under, just like General Patton said. They're optimistic about the whole thing, because they have Democracy and Prosperity promised as the reward. The absurdity of war here is that they're indoctrinated to believe they're invincible: they're gonna scream "WOOOOO!" like Ric Flair, ride the bomb like Major Kong, do a lot of suicidal shit, enjoy every moment of it and maybe even survive it by accident, then celebrate it by tebowing.

Now, the other side. Why "Presbyterian", specifically? This one comes from some British sketch that I've seen on Tumblr, I think it was titled "The Ulsterman". The titular Ulsterman was a stiff guy at a party, with a disdainful expression that was explained to be a very realistic depiction of a "Presbyterian scowl", something typical of Ulstermen who are notorious for being complete and utter party poopers. An Ulsterman is a Stop Having Fun Guy, because Having Fun Is A Sin. And so, the Empire in Warhammer 40000 is every conservative cliche from the Spartans to Margaret Thatcher rolled into one huge dysfunctional feudal cult running on the typical "dulce et decorum" bullshit where you're a nobody, everybody around you is a nobody and all of you would do best dying FOR DEE EMPRAH as officially ordered. It's death, paranoia and oppression all around, an all stick, no carrot deal that hasn't fallen apart yet only due to Plot Armor. Then you have the whole thing with monastic, genetically modified super soldiers half of whom just up and quit because of some contrived reasons and got into some badly written devil worship. Oh, and the weirdos who fuck toasters and enjoy the monopoly on building and maintaining all the tech because of the British auto industry's track record and some religious idiocy shamelessly stolen from Frank Herbert. The whole thing wants to sound deep and complex but comes out as merely daft, pompous and contrived instead. It's not even original, telling the same jokes as half of the British pop culture, but worse and long past the point of relevance.

[cursivebloodlines]

The comment regarding her father hit a nerve but Lydia attempted to do what she normally did: shove it to one side, bury it, never to be disturbed again. The implication that she was anything like him made her blood boil, made her feel sick to her stomach. "I am nothing like him if that is what you are insinuating," she protested adamantly through gritted teeth. "And I never will be either, though he seems to think I'm his lackey at times when I can't avoid him. And for the record, you best not get any ideas either." Maybe she got her wits from him, and maybe she did share some of his facial features - damn genetics - but she liked to distance herself as far away from him as she could. "Unlike you and unlike him, I had no choice. I want nothing to do with this...this world. I got dragged into it. My choice was taken away from me." The only reason she ever allowed him into her life was because of her mother's persuasion. She thought it was important to have both parents in her daughter's life before she passed. Even back then, she had been a stubborn child. If he hadn't bothered for the first god knows how many years of her life then why should she then? But her mom coaxed her with the promise of ice cream and a trip to the bookstore and that was good enough. Oh, what she would've done to rewind time back to that moment, to remain obstinate and say no. How different would her life be now if she remained on the stubborn path? Probably not bound to a loveless marriage in return for her silence, that was for sure.

Naive. Hilarious. Truly hilarious. Another scoff, another eye roll. "Everyone seems to think that about me until I prove them wrong. And I always prove them wrong. You men are all the same." Not that threatening to plot someone's murder was ever one of those things, but still her point stood. If she had been a man, would Ivan have taken her more seriously? She wondered. Then again, if she'd been a man then would they have even married? What would've been the alternative option? Actually, no - she definitely did not want to think about that. "Ah, you see, I don't think you'd be telling me this, warning me off per se, if there wasn't a single part of you that was at least a little worried. Even if it's 0.001%." Or maybe she was just completely delusional. "You may know people. But knowing people does not always necessarily mean they'll be on your side. People jump ship, and forge new alliances. All they need is the right motivation or the right price when you find their weaknesses." Or at least, that's what she assumed. That's what made sense to her. It really was just talk, probably mostly bullshit she probably heard her father spouting off to someone - or Lydia herself, she couldn't remember - that she happened to pick up on. She didn't understand and she didn't want to either. But it was something she thought about, anything to get her through this day in all honesty.

She could've sworn she felt Ivan tense up slightly at her ministrations. Even when she hadn't been looking at him, it was like she felt it, him adjusting himself accordingly. His breath, hot in her ear, maybe even sounding huskier than before, only spurned her on more. A wicked smirk crossed her lips, rather pleased with herself. "Being careful is overrated," she responded cheekily. "All I've ever been is careful, it's a bit boring. And look where it's gotten me," Lydia mused with feigned innocence, trying to push out all thoughts of him and ignore them despite her antics, trying to ignore the ache between her legs yearning to just release the tension and pent-up frustrations. How was it possible to hate someone more than you hate most people and still want to fuck them? The only thing she knew at that moment was that if he didn't sort her out, she would do it herself. "That would give them something else to talk about, wouldn't it?" Was she...was she joking? Because why was she genuinely starting to consider doing that? Perhaps it was the song finally drawing to a close and she was ready to do something other than dance, as the music continued to play with some of the guests heading to the dancefloor.

Or maybe it was the sight of her father from the corner of her eye, approaching the newlyweds. Lydia couldn't even force the smile on her face as she glared at the man she'd avoided all day. "Mind if I steal my daughter away for one dance?" the other man asked coolly. The question wasn't even a question, it sounded more like an instruction or command. The words 'mind if I' sounded more like 'I want to and I will.' A look of disdain on her face as she shot her husband a look that practically screamed 'help.' Hadn't she suffered enough at the hands of both of these men? "Actually..." Lydia trailed off, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, fully ready to fake the faint she was vehemently against only a few moments prior. With or without Ivan's help. "I think I'm all danced out for one day. It's been a long day..." she trailed off, pretending to sound remotely apologetic even if she wasn't in the slightest.

Ivan didn't mind being insufferable. At least his brain wasn't going to atrophy from boredom and lack of stimulation. Most people didn't have the intellectual level required to respond to sarcasm and irony so quickly but Lydia always seemed to find a way to return to him all the missiles he threw at her "Maybe you want to look at yourself in the mirror, sweetheart, your father is cut by the same knife," Ivan replied as calmly as possible. In any case, the money that paid for Lydia's education, to name something, was dirtier than Ivan's money was. Mainly considering that Ivan's business was mostly legal for him. Okay, underground fighting probably wasn't the most legal thing in the world but nightclubs were solid. Ivan couldn't leave the clandestine fights though because otherwise he would end up fighting with anyone like a drunk in a bar. He needed to decompress and specially having sex around wouldn't be as easier as it used to be.

He clicked his tongue "Naive would be the word I was looking for" He mocked with all the intention that she knew how innocent her death threat sounded. She was almost adorable in Ivan's books. By no means did he underestimate Lydia's intelligence, he knew she was smart and cunning but there was no way she could plan something against him and Ivan wouldn't find out about it. He didn't think she would do something like that but if she did, not even with her father help she could do it without him seeing it coming from a mile away. "Good luck finding someone willing to help you with that, honey" He replied wondering if it was going to be a long time before they could finish moving on the dance floor and they could sit down. "Let me give you some free inside information." It wasn't a threat, It could rather be a warning, if she wanted to try, Ivan was going to have a lot of fun watching her do it "Friendly warning, my love, I grew up in the streets, that means that everyone knows me and I know everyone and if I don't know someone, someone I know will know" No hitman would take a job like that. There were certain street codes that Ivan believed Lydia would never understand, not out of understatement, but because she hadn't grown up living by them.

When he saw her move, Ivan opened his mouth to ask what the hell she was doing. He could feel her ass against his cock. As if he wasn't about to die of a serious case of blue balls, Lydia had the audacity to sway so that her butt brushed against his cock. Ivan didn't think she was doing it with that intention but still she had to know that he was just a man after all. Ivan did his best to keep his cock from seizing up and not looking like a teenager in the middle of their wedding before leaning down to brush his lips against her ear. "Be careful, you're playing with fire, sweetheart," he muttered under his breath, fully meaning to let her know that he knew exactly what was going through her greedy little mind. At that precise moment, Ivan strongly considered loading her onto his shoulder and carrying her away from there just to fuck her brain out of her. He could almost imagine her tightening around him. Ivan's mind was going places he shouldn't go. He definitely shouldn't be thinking about how sex with his wife would feel like. How warm she would be, how wet she would feel. Damn. He was going to need a cold shower after all that show was done. Ivan cleared his throat "Well, if you fake passing out the main rumor will be that I got you pregnant before the wedding so I wouldn't be that far from 'kids' in people's minds" He replied like they didn't just have a moment. Yeah, back to the taunting, he could handle the taunting but he couldn't handle his wife's ass against his cock.

[dycefic]

Have An Evil Day

No prompt this time, just a sequel to ‘Welcome To Evil-Mart’

Working at Evil-Mart is usually… well, it’s retail. It’s physically exhausting, you have to deal with a lot of idiots without being overtly rude, and your feet hurt. Even though the hours and pay are very good, the benefits are great, and our bosses treat us well compared to most retail employees, it’s still not what I’d call a fun job.

But it’s not what I’d call dull, either. Especially not on days like today.

I was promoted to supervisor after the Food Poisoning Incident, so I have a little more authority and a little less obligation to be pleasant and I got issued a weighted cosh because sometimes Evil-Mart customers get… feisty. I’d never had to use it, though, because those who hadn’t seen what I did to Majority Rules, either in person or on one of the cell-phone videos that circulated afterwards, had at least heard about it.  They didn’t give me any trouble.

I was halfway through my shift, and the worst things that’d happened had been running out of croissants and a machine oil spill in Aisle Seven, when our greeter pressed the alarm button, which sent an alert to my handset. As front-end supervisor, that meant me, so I went over. Sam, who is unusual in the henching community for having actually aged out rather than ‘being retired’ jerked his chin in the direction of a tall, swaggering figure. “He just came in,” he whispered.

I did a full double-take before I took it in. Superdyne. Fucking Superdyne.

We’d all heard about his dramatic heel-turn a couple of months ago. The whole world had heard about it. Superdyne, who’d skated closer and closer to the line for years, had decided to cross it in a blaze of bloodshed. He was a villain now, he said. There’d been a whole speech about how ingratitude had driven him to it blah blah blah.

I work at Evil-Mart. I’m from a hench family. If someone becomes a supervillain because they hate Mondays or want to turn us all into dinosaurs or whatever, I don’t judge. I will sell depth-charges and laser guns to anyone who can prove they’re over eighteen without hesitation. But even we get kind of grossed out by the ‘I am forced to turn evil because I haven’t been given enough love’ thing. People who are actually so fucked up by emotional abuse or neglect or some superhero killing their family, we’re fine with them. But they don’t say that’s why they do it, and most of them need a lot of therapy to even realize it. People who actually say that’s why are entitled dickwads.

And now the dickwad had walked into Evil-Mart like he was entitled. Like he thought he was one of us.

“Lockdown protocols,” I told Sam quietly. “On my authorisation.” That takes a minute or two, though, so I went over to talk to Superdyne. “Sir, I have to ask how you even knew where to find this place.”

He smirked at me. “I have my ways,” he said smugly. He’d either bribed or beaten someone, that was my guess. “So this is where the villains shop? We all thought you went to Wal-Mart.” He laughed, like he thought it was clever.

“Yes, so you all say,” I said dryly. I didn’t feel like pretending he was the first person to make the bad joke. “My next question, sir, is what made you think it was a good idea to come in here.”

He spread his hands. “I’m one of you now!” he said happily. “I’m a bad guy! So now I guess I shop where the bad guys shop!” He looked around, frowning a little. “Although I was expecting more weapons and explosives. A… more villainous atmosphere. I didn’t know Evil-Mart had fresh produce.”

“I don’t advise buying herbs here unless you’re a magical practitioner. Some of them have… unusual effects.” A lot of our produce is normal stuff, but some of it not only isn’t legal, it doesn’t exist anywhere else.

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. But the bright lights and the bakery?”

“We have excellent gluten-free breads. In many ways, Superdyne, this is just another store. We have sales, we mark down the breads in the afternoon, we even have a PA system.” I pulled out my handset, and thumbed the button that tied it to the PA. “Attention, shoppers,” I said in my most soothing Customer Service voice, which made him grin. “Evil-Mart wishes to inform you – “ The countdown on my handset reached zero, and I turned to look at the entrance as a huge blast door thudded down. That was the last part of the sequence – staff outside the area were already in lockdown and security were on their way. I smiled, and continued almost without a pause. “- That we are in lockdown at this time, due to the presence of Superdyne in the store. Please remain calm, and be advised that security are on their way to deal with the problem. If you have a personal grudge that you wish to address with Superdyne at this time, he is standing near Register Six with a stupid expression on his face.”

He was staring at me, stunned. “But… but…” he stammered, and damned if he didn’t look puzzled. “But I’m one of you now!”

“No,” I said flatly. “You were always evil, that’s true, but you’ll never be one of us. And for the record, I’m one of the people with a personal grudge. All those henchmen you’ve killed and maimed had families, asshole… and they all shop here.”

He swung at me, then, but I spent years in hench training. Even someone super-strong can be dodged, and once I slammed my cosh into his groin a few times his punches got a lot more aimless. Around then, Tiger Ty came over the register, claws out and snarling, and I figured I should stand out of the way.

About ten minutes later, I turned on the PA again. “Clean-up to Register Six,” I called, in the same special voice. “Category 7, class three. Shoppers, please be advised that lockdown is now lifted but Register Six will be closed until clean-up is completed.”

Hunter, who’d been working Register Six, came out from underneath it. He looked a little green. Well, he was still in his teens, this was probably his first fatal mobbing. “What’s Category 7?” he asked in a shaky voice. “I haven’t heard that before.”

“Biohazard.”

“Oh. Class three?”

“Send three people. He was a juicy one.” I stepped away from a spreading puddle of blood. “Run and get a couple of caution signs we can put around this mess.” I eyed it measuringly. “And one of those fifteen-gallon plastic tubs with a lid, I’ll damage it out.”

He eyed the mess. “Are you sure that’s big enough?”

“Yeah, the average human is only about seventeen gallons by volume, and I’m not going to put all the blood and mush in there, just the big pieces.”

He gulped. “Ah. Yes, ma’am.”

I called after him when he ran off. “One of the black tubs, not a clear one!” Which honestly should only be common sense, but you can’t count on a flustered teenager to have common sense.

We frown on killing customers at Evil-Mart, up to a point… but when a particularly murderous super-hero walks into our store, well, that’s something else. I’d have to fill out a ton of paperwork, though.

I had to chase off one of Doctor Malign’s minons and two members of the Genetic Reign before the clean-up crew arrived, both of whom urgently wanted samples. In the end I scraped a few pieces of liver and unidentified organ into two of the bags we use for possibly-contaminated money just to make them go away. (They’re good customers, and it was just going to go in the trash anyway.)

By the time the clean-up was done, all the big pieces were boxed up, and I’d finished the paperwork, my shift had been over for twenty minutes, and I’d been asked to come up to the boss’s office.

“Listen, I have no issues with how you handled the situation, I want you to know that.” Mr Trent leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. “It was quick, it was efficient, and… given your personal history with Superdyne, not to mention mine and that of half of our customer base… richly deserved.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. It came out too meek, and I cleared my throat and straightened up. It’s hard not to be intimidated by Mr Trent, when you’re in the same room with him. It’s not his fault, and he does his best, but even under the strictest control his fear-inducing powers tend to unsettle anyone who gets too close. We all know he’s not doing it on purpose and we try not to show our reactions. “Do you have any orders regarding the remains?”

“Doctor Order wants them.” He rubbed his chin. “Get someone from the pharmacy to prepare samples for him, please, including brain tissue. He’s our primary supplier, and we can’t offend him. As for the rest… as you know, I’m retired, and I don’t usually participate in the Endless War.” One of his hands dropped to his left thigh. His prosthetic leg is some of Doctor Order’s best work, but the injury that led to his retirement had been brutal even by our standards. “But this is different. Superdyne came here. To our place of safety. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

I nodded. “Do you want the remains dumped somewhere public? Some kind of dramatic display?”

“No. Something more direct.” He rubbed his chin again, then tapped the intercom on his desk. “Iris, please send up Miss Fedorova from Marketing and Mr Levy from the warehouse.”

“Yes, sir,” Iris responded, and he clicked off the intercom again.

“The three of you worked together very well, during the food poisoning incident,” he explained. “And I believe they can assist us in a satisfactory conclusion.” He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. “Perhaps you should wait outside until they get here. I can tell I’m unsettling you.”

“Sir, I know you’re not – “

“Not doing it on purpose.” He sighed. “I do appreciate how hard you all work to make me feel… accepted, I really do. But I’m very annoyed right now, which makes control more difficult for me, so I think we’d both be more relaxed if you waited outside while I do my meditation exercises.”

I waited outside. When the three of us went into his office again, the miasma of low-level fear was definitely a bit lighter, and he smiled. “All right. Now, this conversation is going to be very confidential, and I will remind you all of the agreements you signed when you were employed.” We all chorused agreement, and he nodded. “Good. Now, this is very much a secret, even among Evil-Mart staff, but we do have a few online clients who are… ah… on the other side of the fence.”

Ms Fedorova blinked. “What?”

Knuckles sighed. “We ship to a few heroes,” he explained. “The ones who are… less homo than sapiens, if you get my drift.”

I didn’t, and from her expression Ms Fedorova didn’t either. Mr Trent spread his hands, drawing our eyes to his fingers. Which as a rule nobody looks at, because there’s fourteen of them, with four joints in each finger, and we know he’s self-conscious about it. “The less… purely human ones,” he said quietly. “One of the reasons I created Evil-Mart was to give those who can’t pass for human, like me, a place to be… people. To have dignity. So that the obligate carnivores weren’t reduced to living on pet-food or scavenging for scraps, so that those with complex metabolisms could get the supplements they need so that people who are still people, for all their outward differences, could shop in safety. There are a great many more monsters, demigods, abominations of science and other non-standard persons among our set than among the heroes, and I wanted to meet their needs, as well as selling weapons and Lair-away-from-home sets and so on.”

“And there are a few heroes who order from us for that reason,” Knuckles added. “The ones who can’t get medications to suit their metabolism, or need to eat things that you can’t get easily anywhere else.”

I nodded, because that much I understood. We have some very esoteric ‘dietary supplies’ that start with fresh, healthy, well-treated and disease-free prey animals frozen whole (from mouse up to calf and goat kept in stock, larger sizes by pre-order, halal and kosher certified where possible) and end with human blood (rejected blood bank stock mostly, we have an arrangement), and human flesh and organs (sourced from hospitals, morgues and crematoriums, guaranteed no murder, at least not by us). “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’m surprised we ship to them, though.”

“Oh, they don’t know we know. It’s all assumed names and secret bank accounts.” Knuckles grinned. “But Mr Trent has all our online customers identified before we ship. And for the ones who don’t have any other options, well… we let it slide.”

“I can see why you don’t want that to get out.” Ms Fedorova tapped her chin. “What does this have to do with disposing of the body? I was planning to set up a really ghoulish display in a public place somewhere, I already have some sketches.” Marketing for Evil-Mart is… well, it includes more than designing our sale flyers.

“No. We’re going to deliver them to a hero… one of the ones who owes us… and make it very clear that just because someone decides to admit he’s a villain, that doesn’t make him one of us and it doesn’t entitle him to union services,” Mr Trent said flatly. “I want to make it crystal clear to all of them that a heel turn does not mean their sins are forgiven, or that we will accept them as anything other than a very brief amusement.”

Late that night – we were all on overtime, but it couldn’t be done in daylight – we wheeled a cart down the run-down hallway of a shoddy apartment building. “This is a terrible address for a hero,” Ms Fedorova muttered. “Are we sure he lives here?”

“I deliver here a couple of times a month.” Knuckles was pushing the cart. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Ms Fedorova cleared her throat, coughed once or twice, and suddenly her voice was deeper and her very faint Russian accent was as thick as pea soup. “This is intimidation tactic,” she said, grinning toothily. “Do not act surprised.”

I knocked on the door, but let Knuckles do the talking. “Delivery, Mr West,” he called, using the fake name the guy had been giving.

It worked… the door was unlocked and opened almost immediately. “I scheduled the order for next – “ the mark said, and then we were pushing inside, slamming the door behind us.

“Do not be alarmed, Mr… Dinoid, is it?” Ms Fedorova said, folding her arms. “Evil-Mart is knowing all along your real identity. But you are needing to eat, and we are not turning down regular business, so we make no trouble.”

Knuckles rolled his eyes behind her back at how much she was hamming it up, but I waved a hand. Let her have her fun. So Knuckles started unloading the boxes onto the table while she talked. “First, your Budget Bunny Box. Your favourite, da?” The next box, smaller, plunked down. “Two fresh chickens, halal certified, healthy and having lived good life, gift for good customer.” Knuckles dumped the plastic tub on the floor. “And mortal remains of Superdyne, with note.”

Dinoid was staring at us, but that made him shift into a combat stance, his long claws spread. “The… Superdyne’s dead? And in there?”

“Well. Most of him. The big pieces.” Ms Fedorova shrugged an impressively Russian shrug. I hadn’t even known that was a thing, but when she did it, it was obvious. “You must understand, when a mob tears a man apart, it is hard to find every little piece.”

“I’m pretty sure Doctor Malign and the Genetic Reign took off with doggy bags,” I said, as if I hadn’t handed them over myself. “And Doctor Order probably has some of him too, by now. So looking out for clones would be a good idea, I don’t know if that’s in the note.”

Insofar as that reptilian face could show readable expressions, he looked shocked. “Why on earth would… why? He changed sides? And why did you bring him to me?”

“We know your address, we know you don’t want to turn us in because we’re the only ones who can supply your meals, and our boss wanted us to make this very clear.” I indicated the note. Since Ms Fedorova was hamming up her Sexy Russian Supervillain act, and Knuckles was very obvious Muscle, I figured it was on me to be the Reasonable One. “He might have stopped being a hero, but that didn’t make him one of us. That didn’t make him acceptable to us. Our boss wants it made very clear that your failures shouldn’t expect to be accepted by us… or even spared by us.”

He shifted slowly, the tip of his tail twitching. “I… see. I understand why you would reject Superdyne. He was notorious for killing and maiming people on… your side. But I know other defectors have been accepted. Philomel, for example.”

“Philomel was child of villains. She is young, she is rebellious, she sides with heroes for a while.” Ms Fedorova shrugged. “Is understandable, da? The young do foolish things. She comes home, all is forgiven.”

He nodded slowly. “Tenebrous?”

“That story I don’t know.” Ms Fedorova glanced at me.

I nodded. “Tenebrous was just a kid. He was twelve when Varide recruited him. Nineteen when he broke with the guy. Varide put a kid into combat, left him with massive PTSD, then ditched him when he had a breakdown and went too far. Mx Frantique at least made sure he had a safe place to stay and some therapy.”

“It’s happened a few times.” Knuckles rested his elbows on the cart’s handles, his inhumanly big, strong hands dangling. “But there’s a process. A system. If someone’s sponsored by a villain in good standing, like Frantique sponsoring Tenbrous, they can be accepted. Nobody gets to just choose to join. Especially not a smug, entitled prick like Superdyne.”

Ms Fedorova suddenly leaned forward, scowling. “And why are you called Dinoid? You are not dinosaur. You are clearly monitor lizard. Golden monitor, I think.” She reached out and prodded his arm. “And not healthy, either. Look at colouration! You do not keep environment humid enough. Are having trouble with shedding, da?”

Now we were all staring at her. “You’re a lizard expert now?” Knuckles asked.

She shrugged. “What? Is hobby. Mamma’s little Varanus Acanthurus are pride and joy. Sadly, cannot keep larger monitors in city. Is unkind.”

Dinoid ran a hand over his head slowly. “Not many people realize,” he said slowly. “That’s why I order from you guys. I used to get frozen… food… from a pet supplier, but then I got contacted by someone who told me there was another option.”

“Is good thing. Those pet suppliers, they are rogues. They do not keep animals healthy, can get diseases or mites from those things.” Ms Fedorova sniffed. “I would never buy from them. My babies would get sick.”

He actually chuckled, then, seeming to relax a bit. “You’re not wrong. After… this happened… I got really sick a couple of times before I figured out what to eat, and where to get it. And even the reputable suppliers don’t always have the healthiest stock.” He opened his mouth wide, making a gagging noise. “You have no idea how bad that ‘reptile food’ is. Eating whole animals may be a little disgusting, but it’s nothing to some of that stuff.”

“I believe it,” I said emphatically. “There’s a reason Evil-Mart has such an extensive pet-food line. The horror stories we hear from some of our customers… well, you’d believe it, I bet, but most humans just look confused.”

Knuckles nodded, and spread his hands. “People who can’t pass for regular humans… or even for people, the way most normies see it… are a lot more common on our side of the fence than yours. That’s why we delivered to you. We figured you really needed it.”

“Does he order from the pharmacy?” Ms Fedorova was around behind him now, examining his back. “He is having calcium deficiency, am betting. He needs nutritional supplement.”

“I take a nutritional supplement,” he said defensively.

“The one for normal-sized lizards is not enough for man-sized monitor/human hybrid,” she said firmly. “Check pharmacy section next time. We are having excellent selection of supplements for hybrids, and chart to tell you how much to take for body-mass.”

He looked back and forth between the three of us. “You people are… not what I would have expected from an evil supermarket.”

“We may be… morally challenged,” I said, shrugging, “but we’re not heartless.” I looked around his tiny, shabby apartment. “Unlike some of your lot. I thought you were on a team. Why are you living here?”

He ducked his head. “I couldn’t live at the base,” he said, his tail drooping. “My… I made people uncomfortable. And the stipend isn’t much.”

“Isn’t much? With the merchandising deals they have?” Ms Fedorova sounded shocked, and the accent had dropped back a lot. “I know for a fact that if the accountants ever got hold of their books they’d owe more in back taxes than… well, than Evil-Mart would if our illegal product arm ever got discovered. And we pay our taxes on the legitimate stuff scrupulously.”

Dinoid blinked rapidly, though I couldn’t tell whether he was more surprised by her suddenly dropping her act or the idea that Evil-Mart pays taxes. “You do?”

“Of course. Not under that name, of course, there’s a shell company.” She sniffed. “All villains do. Al Capone, you know. We’re not getting caught that way again.”

Knuckles and I both nodded when he looked at us, and he shook his head. “Huh. Makes sense, I guess.”

“It does.” I looked around again. The place really was crappy. “I know it’s a personal question, Mr… West, but under the circumstances I’d like to know… how much is that stipend?”

He looked down at the floor for a while, then cleared his throat. “Uh. $1100 a month.”

We all stared at him. Ms Fedorova’s mouth fell open. Knuckles looked shocked, and I was horrified. “$1100 a month?!” I asked, my voice coming out louder than I’d intended. “For risking your life on a superhero team?! I have teenaged cashiers working part-time who make more than that!”

He looked almost as startled as we did. “For working a cash register?!”

“Evil-Mart pays pretty good.” Knuckles shrugged. “But that stipend is disgusting.”

“You are being exploited,” Ms Fedorova said, sounding really aghast. “That is terrible. Why, baseline henchman pay is twice that, and there are danger bonuses and…” Her voice dropped suddenly. “You don’t have a union, do you?”

“A union? Of course we don’t have a…” He trailed off. “You mean you do?”

“Of course we do. An extremely well-armed one.” Ms Fedorova folded her arms. “Henchmen And Allied Industries has represented us for generations. The last time a supervillain executed a union henchman for failure, he was boiled in oil… literally. On camera. Oh, of course some of the less reputable villains just pick up small-time trash from the streets, untrained rabble from the gangs and so on, so they can treat them as disposable, but we union members are skilled workers, with rights and protections. I bet you don’t even get overtime.”

“Of course not. Crime happens when it happens, and we have to…” He trailed off. “You guys get overtime?”

“We’re getting double time and a half for this conversation. And an extra day off.”

His eyes widened again. “Really? Wow, that’s… even when I was working a regular job, before this, I didn’t get pay like that.” He looked down at his hands and bared his teeth in what looked like an unhappy expression. “And now I can’t work anything but this kind of job. People don’t like having a scary dinosaur in their restaurant.”

There was a long pause.

“You can cook?” Ms Fedorova asked carefully.

“Yeah. I worked in my parents’ restaurant before… this.” He gestured at himself. “They were killed when we were attacked, and I was… changed.”

We all looked at each other. “After you’ve returned Superdyne’s remains to whoever you consider appropriate,” I said, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down my number, “I’d like you to give me a call. Evil-Mart is always hiring in the bakery and deli, and I mean always. Most bad guys aren’t great cooks. We don’t know why, it just seems to be one of those things.”

“You want me to join the bad guys?”

“I want you to work in a bakery. Villains and henchmen need to eat, and so do their families. Nobody’s going to ask you to rip superheroes in half, just maybe make a sandwich that won’t give anyone food poisoning.”

“That’s a regular concern?”

“Six months ago the three of us ran Evil-Mart’s physical store completely unassisted for most of a day because the only people who weren’t down with food poisoning were the ones who’d had the vegetarian and kosher meals.” I shuddered at the recollection. “Trust me. Someone who can cater staff functions without a major disaster would never have to live in an apartment like this working for us.”

“And we get full benefits, including dental.” Knuckles was shaking his head. “I bet you don’t even get hospital.”

“What hospital would take me? I always figured I’d go to the zoo and talk to the vet if – “

Ms Fedorova actually put her arms around him. “You,” she told him firmly, “are going to resign your terrible exploitative job, and then I will personally sponsor you to the union immediately. I have a spare room. You will like it. Humidity and temperature can be set just how you like, and Mamma Yelena will take you to real doctor expert in health of hybrids.”

“Those exist?” he asked, sounding a bit overwhelmed.

“Yeah, the Genetic Reign has like three of them,” I said sympathetically. “Listen, you can take some time to think it over, but you don’t have to put up with this kind of exploitation just because you don’t look human. Nearly a third of Evil-Mart’s staff can’t pass, and they’re treated just like everyone else.”

Superdyne’s dramatic demise got a lot of news coverage. Apparently it came as a real shock to the ‘good guys’ that there were some monsters even the superest villains wouldn’t embrace.

Dinoid no longer exists. Ismail Jameel works at Evil-Mart, and has expanded our fresh food lines a lot already. He’s a nice guy, and after Ms Fedorova told everyone how disgustingly he’d been exploited by those so-called ‘heroes’, he was welcomed with open arms. Literally, in at least one case – he’s dating someone from the warehouse, I’ve heard, though I don’t know who. He says we should rename the store, because we suck at being evil.

But evil is a really relative term. It can mean the blackest depravity, or a moment of viciousness, or even just ‘people on the other side’. Evil-Mart is called that because everyone, at least everyone on our side, is welcome. Plus, we all think it’s funny that the least-evil megacorporation is called ‘Evil-Mart’. What can we say? Bad guys have a sense of humour too.

Have an evil day!

[restapesta]

23. Don’t you get it? You’re the only one I can be honest with.

Mickey takes being alone with Ian for granted. He really does.

It's quite sad he only realizes that when he's not alone with his ginger life companion—specifically when he's stuck in a moving car with him and fucking Phillip, feeling like a pussy for not having the guts to just open the door and jump out.

Did Ian put child's lock on his door, what the fuck?

He can't do this. It's a fifteen-minute ride to the Gallagher house and Mickey won't be able to survive it. No fucking way. Why did Ian have to say yes to picking Lip up from work? Did he know what hell he would be putting his poor husband through, huh?

If college bitch says something about his shitty delivery job one more time, he swears to God—

"And you know what the best part about this shitty delivery job is?" No. Please, God, make him stop. "Bathroom? Doesn't even fucking exist,"

If Mickey had a gun, he'd stuff it in his mouth.

From the corner of his eye, Mickey sees Ian's gripping the wheel slightly tighter, his knuckles turning white, his tongue bitten between his slightly clenched teeth. Sadly, only Mickey can see him be so frustrated from the passenger seat. He wishes Lip would lean over from the back and see how fucking annoying he really is with his constant babbling.

Maybe it's good he didn't bring a gun with him—Ian looks like he'd wanna stuff it in his mouth, too.

Does he have child's lock on?

"Anyways," Lip breathes out and Mickey focuses on the buzzing of the AC so he wouldn't have to endure the brainwashing his brother-in-law's—why him?—voice is doing.

Ian seems to be thinking the same thing, his eyes rolling discreetly to the back of his head, staying there for a moment or two.

Mickey's torn between telling him to keep his eyes on the goddamn road or just letting him crash their new car into a pole. At least then they wouldn't have to listen to the yapping that's filling every nook and cranny of the fresh interior.

Their car had never seemed so small. Since when is Mickey so claustrophobic? There used to be so much room.

Oh right, Lip's ego is taking up most of it. How could Mickey forget?

"Oh, yeah," He says suddenly, and Ian and Mickey share a look. What now? Will he ever stop? "I meant to ask you about your meds, Ian. You told me you were visiting your doctor or some shit like that."

Mickey reclines back in his seat, lips pursing as he waits for Ian to fill Lip in on the new prescription and its side effects, and whatever other shit Mickey's already got written down in the notes on his phone from when Ian told him in detail about it.

He had been pretty down when he came home from seeing his doctors, listing off all of the shit he was worried about with the new therapy and adjusting to it. He even had a couple of sleepless nights that resulted in him seeking out different pharmacies to buy sleeping pills, which ultimately led to a night of sleepless vomiting because the cocktail of pills didn't really bode well for Ian's stomach.

Mickey doesn't mind reliving it. Doesn't mind listening to his husband talk about the things important to him and things that Mickey should know about.

And, truthfully, Mickey's already come face to face with the fact that he likes knowing about all of Ian's shit—they're already living, sleeping, and working together, so the prospect of knowing that new meds give Ian diarrhea if they're taken on an empty stomach doesn't really seem like a TMI-type of thing to know.

When Ian's related, nothing and everything is pretty much TMI.

"Oh," Ian responds after a moment of silence. His eyes aren't focused when Mickey turns to look at him. It seems as if he's racking his brain around for the proper words, yet can't seem to find them. Eventually, he just lets out, "Everything's the same. Nothing new."

Mickey knows that's not true.

"Didn't you say you were being put on some new shit?" Lip's confused. Mickey is too.

Ian was put on new shit. Shit that landed him with a week of goddamn exhaustion and a fucked-up stomach.

"No. It's the same."

"Oh," Lip mutters. "Okay then."

And he continues to go into another monologue about why being a delivery boy is such a shitty job to have with a mind of his.

Mickey stares at Ian's side profile for as long as it takes him to turn around and meet his eye. It takes him long—in fact, Mickey's pretty sure Ian won't be turning around any time soon.

Why would he lie? Why would he hide the fact he did change his meds when it's really not that big of a deal?

Mickey's even more confused by it because Ian had ranted about his doctor's appointment the day of it, nearly talking Mickey's ear off. He had been annoyed, relieved, and worried, all at the same time, and the entire Tuesday was just spent with them talking about bipolar like the mundane thing it was.

So, why wouldn't Ian just want to retell that shit again? It wasn't as if he didn't still have frustrations over it. Not like he wouldn't fucking jump on the chance to talk about his biggest concerns the second the opportunity presented itself.

Why then?

Lip's still talking and Ian's still not looking at him.

Mickey places a gentle hand on his thigh, trying to get his attention. In response to Mickey's thumb running over his husband's jeans, Ian just places a hand on top of his, picking it up and raising it to his mouth until the rough skin meets the smoothness of his lips. When he finally looks at him, there's a plead in his eye. An answer to Mickey's unasked question.

Later.

"Ugh, can you guys not do that here? Since when did you become that couple?"

They both ignore the dumbass in the backseat of their car. Ian turns to look ahead, and he pushes his foot down visibly on the gas pedal, and Mickey knows that the time until they're able to drop Lip off is cutting shorter.

"You guys are really annoying with that mind-reading shit, you know that?"

Mickey breathes in deeply.

Five more minutes. Just five more minutes and they'll be alone.

Ian's hand doesn't disentangle from his, but Mickey does move them so they're laying on top of his leg, palms pressed tightly together. He squeezes at it once.

Ian squeezes back.

There's a faint mumble from the back.

"I fucking hate being the third wheel."

Mickey barely stops himself from jumping into Ian's lap, just in spite.

Instead, with his free hand, he just flips him off.

---

They're driving to their place when Mickey finally asks the question. They've been alone for a couple of minutes now, after a prolonged—much to both their dismays—goodbye to Lip in front of the Gallagher house. As soon as it was appropriate to, Ian peeled out of the driveway, putting as much distance between him and his family—his annoying-ass brother—as he possibly could in a record time.

At first, Mickey fiddled with the radio until he landed on some radio station that played pop-shit music, lowering the volume until the Taylor Swift song—he hates that he knows it—was just a hum filling the silence. Ian isn't speaking, but he doesn't seem tense.

He seems just as always, shoulders even further relaxed—slumped, actually, because he has the posture of a question mark—now that Lip is out of the car and in the hands of the others to deal with.

"So," Mickey starts casually when his weirdo of a partner starts singing lowly to Lover on the radio. It's a song they only listen to when they're feeling sappier than usual, but Ian tends to always be sappy, so none of this sweet singing shit was a surprise for Mickey. The lyrics coming out of Ian's mouth still make his chest swell pleasantly, despite him barely holding himself back from rolling his eyes. "What was that?"

"Hm?" Ian's eyes momentarily move to eye Mickey. They go back almost immediately. "What was what?"

"What was that thing with Lip?" The question isn't meant to be judgmental nor accusing. Mickey really is just curious.

It wasn't him whom Ian had lied to. But why did he lie in the first place?

Ian shrugs, lowering the volume with the switch on the wheel even further until they can barely hear the soft voice.

"I just didn't feel like telling him." Is the simple reply.

"Why?"

"Because."

"Ian."

"Mickey—"

"Come on, man, don't give me that bullshit."

"I'm not—I don't," He exhales roughly as if finally forcing himself to admit to something he doesn't want to admit to. "I don't like anybody knowing about it. It's nobody's business but my own."

Mickey makes a face, still confused as fuck. He gets the reasoning behind the words, but it's just not clicking in his brain. Maybe Lip really did brainwash it. "You say you don't like anybody knowing, but you told me."

Ian glances away from the road and sends Mickey the type of look that says he thinks what Mickey just said was the dumbest thing possible. It's incredulous.

"You're not anybody, Mick."

And that's sweet and all, but—

"Lip's not anybody either."

Ian sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, dramatically exasperated. "Don't you get it, Mickey? You're the only one I can be honest with. Completely transparent."

Mickey doesn't know why he's still pushing, but fuck, there's no way. "You can be transparent with Lip. He'll hear you out, give you advice. Won't judge you." Why is he defending Lip again? "I'm not the only one who understands."

"Yeah, but you're the only one who isn't annoying about it. If I wanted Lip to know, I would've called him straight away. But instead, I talked to you. Mickey, you're a dumbass if you don't see that you're the only one I want to tell."

Well fuck.

Mickey blinks. He actually is a dumbass, but that's already been genetically proven. This is something else.

Mickey feels Ian's words deep in his chest. His heart jumps to his throat—it's one of the best things Ian could've said to him. It doesn't feel fucking real.

"Really?" He asks pathetically. It's not like Ian would lie; he's always had a knack for saying everything that's on his mind. Mickey loves that about him right now. It's just that—Mickey? He wants to tell Mickey about it and nobody else?

Ian smiles at him. "Really, babe," Mickey blushes as the nickname. "You know just how many questions to ask. When to listen and when to talk. When to give me advice and when to tell me to get out of my own head." Ian's eyebrows furrow. "Lip doesn't know how to do that. Not like you—"

No. Mickey will not cry. No. It's just eyeball sweat.

"—With you, I know that I can say whatever is on my mind and won't feel like shit about it. It's fucking liberating, having somebody like that."

Mickey breathes in deeply. Fuck Ian for using his words like this and making his heart squeeze impossibly. Why is he so fucking perfect all the fucking time?

How did Mickey get so fucking lucky?

"Yeah," He responds dumbly, out of breath—because it legit is logged up in his throat at the moment. He clears it. "I guess that's what best friends are for."

And the grin Ian sends him in response to the sheepishly-said sentence is enough to make butterflies explode inside Mickey's belly—ugh, no, he's supposed to be past that stage, for fuck's sake.

Ian's still grinning as Mickey's whole face probably turns the shade of Ian's favorite vegetable—maybe that's why Ian likes it when Mickey blushes—and he has to avert his gaze so he doesn't go even redder than Ian's hair.

"Best friends? I feel honored, Mick."

"Shut up."

"No, for real."

"Shut up."

Ian laughs and spares Mickey the embarrassment by raising the volume up on the radio, the song now booming loudly through the space.

Ian glances over at Mickey right as he starts singing it joyfully, a wide smile on his face. This is the Ian Mickey knows and loves—happy Ian.

Mickey's favorite Ian after the horny one.

Mickey's chest swells with pride. He ended up with Ian. The Ian who loves him unconditionally; who knows just the right to say and when to say it; who just told him Mickey's the only one he can be real with.

I can only be honest with you, too. He wants to tell him. I only am honest with you.

Instead of saying the words, he starts singing himself, and the screeching voices of two men stupidly in love are seeping out of the slightly opened windows, the wind whooshing them away.

I can only do this with you, Mickey thinks. I'm only this free with you.

Judging by the way Ian's smiling, Mickey guesses he's thinking the same thing, too.

"Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover."

[lundenloves]

OMG OMG OMG HEAR ME OUT PLEASE! What if Simon/Ghost comes back home from deployment and is really stressed, annoyed and angry from a mission. He’s left alone with his oldest daughter in the house and has this horrible fight with his oldest daughter and I mean like screaming because the oldest daughter can’t find her shirt and he refuses to help until finally she blurts “I hate you” to him out of the heat of the fight…CAN THIS SOMEHOW END WITH MAJOR FLUFF BETWEEN THE TWO?! If it’s too much just ignore me❤️❤️ Thank you, I love your work🤭🤭

{✧} hello beautiful anon, you have seemingly given me life? banged this out in around an hour. if it seems like it only took an hour, please ignore that or i’ll drown myself in a loch. hope i’ve done your ask justice? thank you for asking for angst, that’s probably why it got done so fast 💀

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↳ no warnings | 1.2k | dad!simon

It was quiet in the house. Just quiet enough for Simon to process what had just happened in the last 48 hours — yet not quiet enough for his ears to ring from constant gunfire. It was a happy medium, alone bar his oldest who jogged up and downstairs at record paces. Flipping the living room upside down, and the pile of clean washing on the bottom stair was tossed to the floor in a desperate attempt to find her shirt. 

He was sitting on the sofa, head leant back, eyes shut only to hear her scuffling around. “Where’s my shirt?” She penetrated his happy silence, stood in front of him with arms dropped to her sides in a teenage palava. “Where did you put it?” 

Simon gave her a noise between a sigh and a hum, craning his neck to look up at her. “What?” He unintentionally spat, his normal tone of voice as sharp as ever. “I ‘aven’t touched your shirt.” Eyes locked to the pile of recently ironed clothes tossed to the floor by the stairs. “They’ll be in that fucking pile you’ve chucked around and walked past ten times.” 

“Well, they’re obviously not.” She groaned. 

Simon shrugged, standing up to stack this morning’s breakfast dishes. “What do you want me to do?” He shook his head at her, taking the plates to the kitchen with her trailing behind him. “I can’t magic it, can I? It’ll be wherever you’ve left it.” 

“It’s not. That’s the point. You’ve moved it.” She had genetically taken his frown, sporting it straight back to him when he had turned around to take something from the table. 

“Oh, have I?” He mumbled nonchalantly, loading the dishes into the sink with loud clatters. “Get those mugs from your room.” 

“No, I'm looking for the shirt.” Her tone matched his, stubbornly kicking her foot against the chair leg to get his attention. “Can you check mum's stuff?” 

“You can.” He turned around, a dish towel balled between his hands with a nod toward the stairs. 

Simon's moods were hard to distinguish. The primary reason being: he always seemed to be in some sort of disparity. So even when he’d come back from a particularly challenging mission, one that had asked too much from him or went horrifically wrong, he would almost always be the same as he usually was. Blunt, sarcastic and seemingly uncaring. 

You had learned to tell the difference but your daughters knew none the wiser. Leading to unknowingly provoking yet valid questions like, “What is wrong with you.” 

“Nothing. Get the mugs.” 

“You never help with shit.” She scoffed, turning on her heel to stomp upstairs and Simon’s jaw ticked. Head tilted to the side, palms leaning either side of the sink with a step back to hang his head between his shoulders. 

Having a teenage girl was the route of many headaches for Simon. Not particularly because of her, but for the natural way where everything revolves around them for an extended amount of years. Everything is embarrassing, if not first regarded as useless. And as far as Simon was concerned he fell somewhere between the two in her radar. 

“Don’t start with that.” He’d said once she had slammed the mugs down on the table behind him, his back was still toward her. 

“Well it’s fucking—“

“I mean it.” 

“It’s true you’re never here!” She shrilled. “You never do anything, you’re always angry and never help.” A beat. “You don’t even talk to us, dad.” She paused, undoubtedly eyeing him for any sort of reaction. “It’s fucked, you’re fucked.”

He turned to take the mugs, eyes avoiding hers although his jaw was tense. “And you can’t even have a conversation.” She laughed though it held no comedy. “You’ll just snap like you always do.” 

“I snap because it’s hard to switch between work and home— here.” He turned around, his daughter shying from his broad frame and low voice. Refraining from asking about Simon’s work was the one thing you had instructed all three of your kids not to do. Although, naturally it became a target point for arguments with him. A real low blow, the best and most critical hit you could land on him was his absence from home due to work. 

Bonus points if you added all he had missed, the first steps, the first words. It was a lot. But it was not there to be thrown back in his face, not as often as it was anyway. “You don’t even want to be here.” 

He shifted in his position, placing hands behind his head at her confrontation. “All of this because of that shirt.” His words directly combated hers, hitting them backward and stopping them from landing anywhere near him. Effectively avoiding her statement. 

“When’s the last time you hugged me, dad?” She said calmly yet loudly, metaphorically shattering glass over his head. 

It had been weeks, months at worst. 

His silence was telling, hands dropped down to his sides in defeat. As usual, he couldn’t find the words so she had jumped for her turn and jab one more time.

“I hate you. I hate you for that, so bad.” It came as a whisper and by that point, the kitchen had fallen quiet too. Occasional sniffs and the rubbing of the odd tear turned her face red, Simon cleared his throat. 

It only highlighted her point in that he stood still. Though, it wasn’t fair to point a finger and say it was his own fault he was that way, emotional warmth and touch just weren’t in his niche range of abilities. His thumb drew imperfect circles on the kitchen counter, staring at her with any and all outward apology he could muster. 

“I didn’t mean that.” She mumbled first, embarrassingly shifting her weight to the other foot while looking up to the ceiling, eyes darting left to right as if to hold back any more upset. She was a lot like Simon that way, although not at all. 

“I know.” He replied softly, taking a closing step toward her and placing his hand on the back of her head to pull her to his chest. “I don’t mean to be like this, you know that.” The silence made him look down to gain a nod in response, her gaze zoning out to the kitchen window as he smoothed out her hair. 

Simon was never good with words, so he always took to actions that felt even more foreign but they at least allowed for the substitution of his appeasements. “Sorry for swearing at you.” She mumbled, melting into his broad chest. 

“Someone has to put me in my place.” The vibration of the words rippled in his chest and she pulled back only to look down at the floor. “You’re a lot like me, you know.” He poked at her ribs, provoking an unwilling laugh that then turned into a smile. “A lot.” 

She shrugged, pushing his hands away after they had wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Yeah, alright.” Her frown was feigned.

“I promise you.” He turned to continue the dishes, looking back to her over his shoulder. “And your shirt is on the line.” He nodded out the window, watching as she gasped and ran outside like he had found gold. 

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @misshoneypaper @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkjoequinn @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov

as always comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! i’ll sit in a hole if no one pays me on the head every now and then.

this is unedited.

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 here!

A/N: I already know some of y’all are going to be mad, it’s 2020 and twilight needs some diversity, don’t @ me.

* You’re not really sure how you got here

* “This ones done”

* Edward holds out the blood bag to you, carefully pulling out the needles from you beloved Deer, Hayden.

* “Ah, thank you.” You place it carefully along with the others, before lavishing Hayden with affection

* “You were so good today! You’re going to get extra carrots, yes you are!”

* You’re aware of Edwards gaze on you as he disinfects the injection point.

* “You know it’s illegal to have Deer as pets in Alaska don’t you?” The corner of his mouth is quirked in the smallest smirk you have ever seen, and you roll your eyes

* “Tanya got a permit, the official stance is they’re her deer, I just take care of them for some extra pocket money”

* Not that anyone would venture into the “siren house” to ask questions

* You knew people were probably wary of coming up to the estate, even the mail man looked dead scared when he left Irina’s Lululemon packages in the mailbox

* But you didn’t think the locals legit called the manse “The Siren House”

* Edward told you they used to call it “The Witch House” but then, upon seeing the Denali sisters, changed it to Siren

* Edward doesn’t say anything, just moves to take the filled blood bags up to the house

* Ever the gentleman

* You really thought Edward would show up once, figure out he couldn’t read your mind, and retreat into his own moody silence.

* You figured you would mostly be dealing with Carlisle, who would teach you how to draw blood from your heard of deers, and then you would be on your own.

* But instead it was Edward who volunteered to do it for you, Carlisle was busy with his day job after all.

* He shows up once a week, usually after school, and carefully extracts the blood

* Then he puts them inside the fridge and leaves

* You really don’t get what’s going on, if he hates you so much why even bother coming over in the first place

* You’re about to fall into your usual rhythm of handing him the blood bags, which he then puts in the fridge when he breaks your routine

* “Why-“ your head pops up from the small pile of blood bags and to him. He’s looking away, but then his gaze meets yours. “Why go through all this trouble for a few deer.”

* You grin and hand him a blood bag

* “Another vampire might say the same thing to you, why go through all the trouble for a few humans?”

* He flinches, and you laugh. He’s so unaware of himself it’s actually funny

* “For the record, I do it because they remind me of my (Dog/Cat/Pet).” He quirks an eyebrow at that.

* “Your pet?”

* You nod. You’re number one concern on arrival here had been whether your dog was okay, but sifting through your memories of this life, you realized your dog had passed away in the middle of high school.

* “When I look into their face, all I can think about is my dog” you shrug, it’s the same with bears and other animals too.

* “Also, it’s kinda disgusting to drink that blood straight out of the animal.”

* Draining the blood must have deducted something from the taste, you can’t imagine what that skunky revolting flavor would have been like if you were drinking straight from the animal.

* Edward laughs. It’s the first time he’s laughed around you, pearly white canines in full view, the skin at the corner of his eyes folds

* It’s cute, very boyish. You get what Bella was talking about now

* “You get used to it after a while” he shrugs

* You shake your head, no one should ever have to drink that crap

* “Here, try some of my blood” you say it like you’re offering him some cookies you made. You pick up one of the bags, still warm, and he quirks an eyebrow

* This isn’t the first time you’ve offered, usually he declines and rushes to leave

* One time it looked like he might say yes, but then he noticed Tanya and excused himself.

* He accepts the bag, holding it up with one hand

* “Do you pour it in a mug?”

* And so you and Edward sip your blood-Capri-suns in the kitchen that’s only now started to be used

* You sit in the counter cross legged, while he leans against the adjacent counter. Both of you silently sipping your meals.

* “This is really good” he finally says, his blood bag almost empty.

* “Who’d you have? I’ve been trying to add different veggies to their meal to see if it brings out a different flavour profile.”

* He had Henrietta, who you had been giving more citrus too. Partially for flavour, and partially because she’s your favourite

* “It kind of tastes like...fruit punch” Edward recalls after a prolonged minute.

* He seems so nostalgic, you wonder how long it’s been since he’s had human food

* “I think genetics have something to do with the flavour too, the breed from this region all seem to have a fruity aftertaste”

* “I’m partial to deer since they don’t have a strong game taste aftertaste.”

* “Yes! That part is the worst, it’s like eating a skunk” You scowl and he laughs again.

* You know he doesn’t belong to you, he’s Bella’s, in a few years she’ll be all he thinks or cares about.

* But maybe the two of you can be friends until then.

* All at once the moments broken, Edward stands a bit straighter, the smile on his face gone.

* You turn to look behind you to see Carmen.

* Her head is tilted to the side, a smile tugging on her lips

* “You both look like you’re having fun.”

* After that the conversation is pleasant, but it definitely stutters until Edward eventually leaves.

* “I think he likes you” You’re reading a book by the fire, the gentle heat is nice and it sets the mood.

* “What?”

* Carmen’s grinning

* “The Cullen boy is interested in you.”

* You just shake your head. You doubt it, Edwards only got a one track mind for one person. And it’s not you

* “It would be nice if we could be friends though, I don’t really know many other people my physical age.”

* Carmen stops mid-stitch on her embroidery hoop

* “Is that something you want? Because the Cullen’s have other’s your a-“

* “I don’t need you to set up play dates for me Carmen”

* “Understood”

* Edward comes by regularly, to help you with your animals. You’re both always under the (discrete) supervision of one of your guardians (excluding Tanya of course.)

* And with each visit you learn a little more about him

* You find out that right now he’s masquerading as a senior in high school, he’s considering going to college for veterinary sciences

* “Why veterinary sciences?” You wonder if he’s about to poach your best deer and start his own blood business when he shrugs

* “It’s one of the few degrees I don’t have”

* You’re drinking blood-Capri-suns out on the porch, he’s still in his school clothes, including a very puffy jacket

* “What were you going to do?” Your raise an eyebrow and he elaborates “before you turned, what were you plans for the future.”

* “I was on my graduation trip, I was going to college in the fall”

* You got accepted into your safety school with a generous scholarship.

* Edward doesn’t press any further. But you can tell that he wants too.

* Many nights go by, you experiment with you animals diets, have supervised hang-outs with Edward, you meet Carlisle every so often who basically gives you therapy and helps you control your emotions

* Life is good

* But your growing complacency with the situation is starting to bother you

* You haven’t forgotten about Alec and Jane who are still fighting so hard to survive, or the countless others who would prefer this way of life if they only knew

* You know the minute you start being content is the minute the world wins

* So every night -or really every so often, you’ve lost all perception of time, the nights in Alaska are totally fucked and these heathens don’t even have a damn clock. Your only really sign of time is the mail man dropping off amazon packages- you sit and dream

* You think about giving back to the community, about saving your friends, and about dethroning fucking Aro

* You’re only at the beginning now, there’s still so much work to do, but it’s a start

* You hear a noise and your eyes open

* If you had a beating heart it would stutter when it saw Edward standing beside your bed, your hand moves on it’s own through reflex, clutching your heart

* Under the circumstances you would expect someone else to laugh, but Edward just looks confused

* “Are you...sleeping?”

* “I like to pretend, it’s a nice way to end the day” he raises an eyebrow at that

* “It’s 4 in the afternoon”

* “Well damn Edward, we don’t have any clocks in this house, how am I supposed to know what time it is.”

* He does laugh at that

* “Is it...nice?”

* “Yeah, it’s pretty relaxing, kills some time too.” Noticing the curious look on his face, you ask:

* “Do you want to try?” You pat the space on the bed beside you.

* You’re fully expecting for Edward with his old fashioned virtues to deny your suggestion. So you’re surprised that after several long seconds of silence, and a rather pained look, he adheres to your request and lies next to you on your bed.

* It’s a king size bed, so he’s at least three Great Danes away from you, but the closeness still surprises you.

* “What do I do now?” He says, eyes closed.

* “Daydream, or fantasise I guess, about things that happened in your day, or things you wish happened, places you want to go and memories you wish you could relive”

* “What do you usually dream about?” He asks, eyes open now

* “I think about Jane,” the answer is automatic, and you regret it as soon as the words come out. But Edward’s expression doesn’t change so you continue. “I think about my deers and my family too.” Most of the time you’re just thinking about what animal you want to excitement with next tbh

* “And sometimes I think about you.”

* And how glad you are to have a friend

* Edward doesn’t say anything for a long time, and for a second you hope he hasn’t misunderstood your words, you know he’ll never feel that way about you. All of those romantic feelings are saved for Bella

* “Would you like to come to my house sometime?” The questions throws you off, and your expression illicit’s a laugh from him. “Emmett and Esme are dying to meet the newborn from the Denali coven”

* That’s probably true for Esme, you’re pretty sure Emmett just wants to have some physical match with the “Volturi-reject”

* “That sounds fun, sure.”

* Maybe they have a clock in their house you can steal

* Edward shows up the next day in his shiny white Volvo to pick you up.

* On either side of you on the front porch are Carmen and Kate with their most fierce expressions (and behind them is Eleazer who just looks like he’s along for the ride)

* “Where are you going?” Kate asks

* “Our home on the other side of the mountain, you’ve been there before” Edwards got a small smile curling in his lips, and an eyebrow raised.

* “What will you do?” Carmen asks

* “My family’s having a board game night, I think we’re playing monopoly”

* “What time will you bring them home?” Kate intervenes, man they’re not even pretending to be polite

* “Well it’s not a school night-“ Seeing his joke isn’t going to land, he rethinks his words midway

* “Whenever they tell me to.”

* You’re half expecting to get a curfew, even though this household seems to operate without the concept of time, when Eleazer interjects

* “Well be safe, and have a good time.” He slides a backpack up your shoulders. “I packed you some blood bags in case you get hungry, Henrietta’s since I know that’s your favourite.”

* He’s the only one waving as you get into Edward’s car

* The view as you drive is breath taking, the snow covered mountains, abs crisp green trees

* Edward laughs beside you, at your awestruck expression no doubt

* “You don’t get out much do you?”

* You have your nose practically pressed to the glass

* “Not at all.”

* The Cullen’s home is reminiscent of the one from the movies. All light, with glass everywhere. It’s like a aurora, all wavy with no true shape

* “Welcome to our home (Y/N)” Carlisle greats you first, and behind him is... Esme

* She’s not at all like the books or the movie

* She’s definitely not white, you can’t tell exactly what race, but she’s definitely a POC.

* Her caramel cheekbones seem even more prominent when she offers you a smile.

* “It’s so nice to finally meet you, I’m Esme.”

* For some reason her being a POC, makes you feel more comfortable around her.

* Maybe you will ask her to draw up those plans for a proper barn.

* Edward stifles a laugh behind you, and you raise an eyebrow.

* “Emmett is dying to meet you upstairs.”

* You follow Edward up the stairs, finally meeting the family that spawned four books and a movie franchise.

* None of them look like they’re actor counterparts

* For one Emmett is black. And also really handsome, he’s got this Chadwick Boseman look alike thing going on and you’re down for it (RIP)

* Rosalie looks basically the way she was described in the books, all blonde hair and angel faced, but she’s the only one

* Alice is definitely Asian, she kinda looks like Lana Condor

* Jasper.... is ambiguously brown, but it still makes you let out a sigh of relief when you remember he was a Major in the CONFEDERATE army.

* More to the story than someone who was blatantly racist and supported slavery.

* They’re all beautiful, and they terrify you. You’re not exactly sure why, but something primal in you tells you to run away as fast as you can.

* But Edward lightly brushed the small of your back, pushing you forward. Right into the lions den.

* “Hello, I’m Rosalie”

* Looks like they picked her to be their spokesperson, all glittering smiles and flawless cheekbones. She extends her hand, and you lightly grasp it.

* “It’s nice to meet you.”

* It’s surreal to think how you know almost everything about this girl, while you two are virtually strangers

* Jasper introduces himself next, all smiles and quiet gentlemanly behavior.

* You’re not really sure what to expect with Alice, from what you know this girl has seen every future you could possibly have.

* Who knows what she saw

* But when she stands she hugs you

* “It’s good to see you!”

* “Alice, you haven’t introduced yourself”

* “Oh, right. I’m Alice”

* Emmett claps you on the back like you’re an old friend.

* “So, I heard you used to hang out with the sadist twins in the Volturi”

* You can practically feel the tension in the air, even Edward winces

* “They’re not so bad” really, what did anyone expect when they were in that environment

* Emmett grins

* “That’s bad ass”

* The rest of the night passes in a blur. The cullen’s game of monopoly includes some monstrous version where they put 8 different themed boards together and play in teams (You’re obviously on Edward and Alice’s team)

* They also have some sort of structure where they put four hotels together and called it a mega-hotel

* The whole thing blows up when Emmett accused Alice and Edward of using their powers to cheat

* “What do you want me to do, I can’t turn it off when I want Emmett, trust me I would especially when you and-“

* “Oh shut up Emmett, like we haven’t noticed Rosalie has an awful lot of $500 bills” Jasper interjects

* “It’s because you always pay me rent in small change!” She screams

* “Now-“ Carlisle tried to interject but Alice stands up

* “That’s a lie! I saw you steal from the bank several times when Esme wasn’t looking” Alice screams

* It goes on like this until Carlisle Declares the game over, and shoos everyone away.

* “Sorry, I would say it’s usually not like this, but I would be lying” Edward grins and you shrug

* “It was pretty fun and... entertaining in its own way” Edward beams at you, and once again, you definitely feel the dazzling effect Bella described in the movies

* “Should I... take you home now?” You can tell he doesn’t want to take you back yet, and if you’re being honest you don’t want to go back either

* The Cullen’s house has so much light, and you can see the stars so clearly here

* And if you’re being honest things seem to be way more entertaining here

* Edward takes you to a nook which houses a grand piano

* You’re fingers instinctively roam over the keys.

* “Do you play?”

* “Just a bit”

* You’re not the one who knew how to play, not really. But now this body is yours. You’ve thought about asking Carmen for a Piano, you’re sure they would love something that adds to the gothic feel of the mansion, but always cast it aside.

* You’re busy enough with your research.

* “Play me something” Edward grins.

* Alec had said the same thing to you when you were first taken by the Volturi, at the time your mind had raced wondering which piece would impress him the most. Which would aide in your survival.

* But looking at Edward now, you know that it’s not the same situation.

* He really does want you to play whatever your heart desires

* So you play “Love like you”, accompanied by your quiet voice reciting the lyrics

* At some point Edward sits beside you, playing in a deeper key, adding another layer of depth to your performance

* Wordlessly, afterwards he plays a piece of his own, Claire de Lune. Which you know is a remarkably hard piece.

* Still halfway you chime in, your super human fingers keeping up with him with ease

* And so it goes on like this, you play a modern song, waiting for him to catch up and he does the same with a classic

* Like a never ending game of cat and mouse

* It stops abruptly when Edward is in the middle of “moonlight sonata” when Alice clears her throat from behind you.

* “I hate to disturb,” there’s a teasing grin arched on her face. “But if you don’t drop them off, Carmen and Tanya are going to come over personally to retrieve them-“

* You see Edward wince, no doubt reviving Alice’s vision through his ability

* “And I don’t think anyone wants that.”

* You nod, moving to grab your backpack when you overhear Alice say-

* “You never let me play like that with you”

* Edward let’s out some sort of noise akin to a scoff

* “Where did you learn those songs?” He asks when you’re on the road

* Well you can’t tell him they’re from artists who aren’t known yet

* “Personal compositions” you murmur, and Edward grins his dazzling grin

* You talk about nothing but music until you pull into the familiar circle driveway of the manse

* Right when you’re about to thank him for a fun time, he gently stops you with a fleeting touch to your shoulder.

* “I’m graduating next month,” he hands you an envelope which you assume has his graduation card. “I was wondering if you would like to come to the ceremony.”

* You hold the card with both hands stunned, he’s already graduating high school?

* That means only 4 more years until he moves to Forks, and another two until he meets Bella

* And you realize that while time is frozen for both of you until the end of the universe, you’re the only one who isn’t moving forward

* “Yeah, I’d love that!”

* You try your best to smile, but your sure it comes off looking strange

* You don’t talk to anyone, heading straight for your bedroom

* What’s next for you?

[sadoeuphemist]

We were about twenty minutes in when we realized Brody’s fingers weren’t wrinkling. We’d only just come up with the idea for the competition, all of us splashing around in the pool and clowning on each other, and Kai was going, “You guys ready to have your whole bodies turn into prunes? All baggy and swole up with water? Because I’m sticking it out to the end. You guys don’t want to end up with your waterlogged skin peeling off, you better call it right now!” That got us comparing each other’s fingertips, trying to figure out who’d end up the most pruney, and Brody’s were perfectly smooth and taut, not a wrinkle in sight.

“You been keeping your hands out of the water?” Derek said, squinting at him.

“I’ve been in the pool just the same as you,” said Brody with a shrug. He splashed his hands. “Maybe you guys just don’t have what it takes.”

“What the hell,” said Derek. “Let’s see your feet.”

Now all of us, our toes were pretty wrinkly already, but Brody, again, had perfectly smooth skin, not a single wrinkle or crease. “What the hell?” said Derek.

“Is there something wrong with your skin?” said Tyler. We were all sort of gathered around him now, with Brody leaning against the edge of the pool and floating, bobbing one foot out of the water. “Is this, like, a medical condition?”

Brody shrugged again and looked real smug.

“Are you not affected by water?” said Kai.

“Hey,” said Brody, “you guys don’t think you can beat me, feel free to call it quits right now. Me, I’m real comfortable.” He spread his elbows out on the gutter like he was reclining on a throne. “I could spend the whole summer in this damn pool.”

“C’mon in the deep end, if you’re so comfortable then!” said Kai.

Brody laughed and pushed off from the wall, disappearing under the surface of the water, a dark shape propelling itself across the pool until he surfaced again at the far end. We all stared.

“What the hell?” said Derek. “How is your hair not wet?”

---

The contest was temporarily put aside, as everyone applied themselves to the issue of how Brody’s body was completely unaffected by the water. The rest of us splashed around, got chlorine in our eyes, snorted water out of our noses, watched the skin on our fingers etch themselves into little labyrinths of grooves, and through it all Brody might as well have been on dry land for all it showed on him. It was as if his skin had been sealed off, rubberized, like there was an invisible force field keeping the water from touching him. Brody himself seemed similarly insulated to the bizarreness of what the hell was going on with his body. “I’m feeling great,” was all he would say. “I could spend the whole summer right here.”

I was the first to call it quits after a few hours. “Brody’s going to win,” I said, climbing out of the pool dripping. “How’s this even a contest? He’s got some weird physiology that makes him immune to water!”

“Boooo,” said Tyler. “Don’t even want to try for second place!”

“I’ve swam enough!” I said. “I’m going inside!”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Brody. “Acknowledge the champion. All of you ought to give up right now.”

We had a pizza by the poolside as well as a bunch of drinks, but as the hours went by I ordered another, got more drinks out of the refrigerator. Tyler gave up. I went diving a few more times, but then the sun started going down and it started getting cooler. Derek got out, shivering. Kai and Brody had set themselves at opposite ends of the pool, staring each other down.

Tyler broke out the DVDs. Derek went out to yell at them. “It’s been ten hours!” he said. “You fuckers have been emptying soda cans and haven’t left the pool once! That’s piss soup in there! You’re both stewing in piss soup!”

Kai looked absolutely miserable. His fingertips were white and wrinkled and had turned translucent. He was hunched around himself like a wadded-up rag. The moon was out, reflected in milky ripples across the pool. Brody meanwhile looked untouched, like a plastic bottle bobbing in the ocean, stoppered up and completely airtight. “You could quit at any time, Kai,” he said, grinning. “This is my element.”

“F-fuck you,” Kai said. “You gotta crack, sooner or later. I don’t care what sort of genetic mutant you are, you can’t keep sitting in a pool for hours and nothing happens to your body. You gotta reach your limit! You gotta - hit saturation or something, man, I don’t know! Fuck!”

“Suit yourself,” said Brody. He lazily kicked out his legs. “Man, this pool’s real nice. Figure I could just about live here.”

“It’s piss soup!” Derek said.

It took two hours more, but Kai finally gave up. He came out shivering from the black surface of the pool, and we had to wrap him up in towels and rub him down because he looked like he was at risk for hypothermia. Brody did a few more laps, floating unconcernedly, and we had to yell at him before he finally pulled himself out. He sat on the edge, one foot still dangling in the water, and rubbed at the sole of his foot.

“Hey, whaddya know,” Brody said, looking down. “Finally got a wrinkle. What are we on, hour twelve? Well, took long enough, I guess.”

We all looked, even Kai, who was still waterlogged as a drowned cat. There was in fact a wrinkle on Brody’s perfectly smooth skin - but just a single one, incongruous against his rubberized sole. Squinting at it, I thought it looked like a defect, a flaw in the material. It was like seeing a wrinkle on the taut skin of an inflated balloon.

“Never got one of these before,” Brody said casually, pinching the crease of skin between his fingers. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, seeing it, someone pinching the skin of a balloon. “Maybe you shouldn’t -” I started to say.

And then the piece of skin came off in Brody’s fingers, and all the water started gushing out.

We were all awestruck for a moment, just watching it. It was a perfect arc of water, crystal in the moonlight, so smooth that it seemed like a curve of glass stretching from his foot into the pool, like a sculpture, or a fountain, a perfect pressurized flow. We might have all just watched that for a good ten seconds, twenty seconds, half a minute, just staring in wonder at the sight of it, and then I looked up at the rest of Brody and saw his eyes rolling back in his head, his head and shoulders deflating, sagging, right about to collapse.

“Oh shit, put some pressure on it!” Tyler called out, and we all sort of grabbed at him at the same time and went unbalanced, and Brody toppled right back into the pool, Tyler and Derek diving in, fully clothed, after him.

Between the four of us we must’ve seen that event from every possible angle, and yet none of us could tell what had happened next. We all saw bubbles, the splash, the force of impact, and to my mind it was like watching a balloon popping, the pressure equalizing, Brody disappearing beneath the surface of the water and gone. Tyler and Derek came up gasping, and already there was this murky fog spreading through the water, all skin cells and hair and whatnot, I figured, Brody’s remains. Derek scrambled out of the water, spluttering, rubbing at his skin and pulling off his shirt and immediately ran to hose himself down. Tyler dived back down, looking for Brody, and then came back up again with the growing bewilderment of someone who’d set something down for just a moment and couldn’t tell where he’d left it. Kai was standing by the pool’s edge, probably in shock, and I'd fallen backwards on my ass and was just watching the whole thing like an idiot, while Tyler dived under again and again, feeling around the edges of the pool, possibly trying to find Brody by process of elimination.

Finally we managed to get him to come out, and we all just stood there poolside, staring down at the cloudy water. Brody was gone, not a trace left of him but his trunks.

“Fuck,” I said.

“Yeah,” said Kai. “Fuck.“

“Oh god,” said Tyler. “Oh god oh god he just disappeared, he was there and then -”

The murky pool water burbled, bubbled, spoke with Brody’s voice, if he had been speaking to us from the bottom of a drain.

“Told you guys I could spend the whole summer right here,” it said.

---

So, swimming was out for the rest of the summer. Brody occupied the pool, and the rest of us would come by to skim out the leaves and whatnot, toss some pizza slices or nachos in there occasionally, or empty in a few cans of coke. The water level slowly sunk as the summer rolled along, the pool water growing cloudier and more congealed, until it started to look like Jell-O setting in a mold. The pool drained itself, its contents becoming more and more concentrated, until one day we came by and found Brody at the bottom of the pool, stark naked, his skin still wobbly and not quite fully set, waving up at us.

“Lost my trunks!” he said. “How ‘bout you help a guy out!”

So that was how we spent our summer, and we all agreed that we had definitely not gotten the full benefit of the pool, although Brody maintained he could not reasonably be blamed. That didn’t stop him from lording his victory over the rest of us, proclaiming himself the undisputed Champion of the Pool, a record that would never be broken. Brody being Brody, it got to the point where he was seriously obnoxious about it, but once Derek started calling him Piss Soup that was finally enough to shut him up.

[palpipeen]

Clone HCs: Hardcase

If you're under the age of 18 dni, this isn't spicy or anything but just like. Don't talk to me if you are a child.

I'm just gonna spew garbage about my fav ADHD coded clone for a minute

So I think that even if the clones probably have some genetic tweaking that makes them tougher/heal faster than normal human beings, there's still basic wear and tear on parts of the body, and Hardcase is not exception to that. So personal HCs (which are also in a fanfic I'm working on) about his physical state

He's had surgery on both his shoulders due to the strain of using heavy weaponry like his Z6. My dad used to lug around a 30+ pound camera on his shoulders/in his hands frequently, it's a pretty common thing for some of the ligaments/joints in their shoulders to get fucked up. Scars on his shoulders are fairly small and he still has problems from time to time

Also some canon source somewhere states he's been in the med ward more than any other clone in Kix's records - there's bound to be body parts that got blown off or are missing. (Personal HC: one of his legs from the knee down is a prosthetic, he just rarely takes his armor off so it's not obvious.)

I think honestly that Hardcase and other heavy-gunners would probably have a lot of chronic pain - some deal with it with basic pain killers (which leads to a lot of health issues when it inevitably becomes an addiction) and others deal with it by...imbibing.

I didn't decide Hardcase would smoke that gud kush, the fandom did and I just adopted the idea

His tattoos cover about 80% of his body, and he's very proud of them

We all know the clone troopers are strong, but I think he's got to be a bit more bc he might be a bit of a gym rat - gotta keep in tip-top shape to lug around the big guns and explosives. Also to get some of that excess energy out of his system. So he's got a bit of extra bulk and the calories he has to consume in order to maintain a healthy body gives him a slightly different build. Very much a 'functionally fit' guy with a bit extra (and stretchmarks, oooooo)

[dalishthunder]

Degenerate

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Cronus solo Words: 1745 Praise kink, humiliation kink, slight body horror (cronus bites a toy), guilty wank

Cronus leaned back in the tub, acclimating to the temperature and the feeling of being submerged. It had been a while, if he was being completely honest with himself, since he'd been in water. Properly in water. Submerged instead of just letting it roll over his skin in the shower. Despite the blood and the gills, he really wasn't great at being a seadweller....

Chalk up another strike against being a troll.

Not that it really made him feel any more human.

He shook his head. This wasn't about that. None of that mattered right now. He had important matters to attend to. Like how warm the water was and how if he closed his eyes he could imagine you all around him. Like the fact that the tip of his bulge was already starting to peek out of the sheath.

Glub it was so hot... so fucking hot.

You'd probably be this hot.

Absolutely searingly hot like humans were.... Not that he had any hands on experience but your hands were warm when you touched him, so the rest of your body had to be too, right? He was pretty sure that's how things worked.

He shimmied further into the water, submerging completely and flaring out his gill plates. It always felt so odd breathing through them instead of his air sacks, but at least under the tap water it didn't sting the way seawater did.

He licked his lips, sliding his hands down his abdomen to swirl around his tip, teasing the narrow slit with a carefully manicured cla- nail. Humans called them nails. He could feel more of his bulge sliding out into the hot wetness. And not for the first time, he really wondered what you had in your pants.

Not that it really mattered. Or that he even had a preference, but it would have been nice to know where to focus and how to imagine you fucking him.

But he'd seen your mouth. Seen your lips. Seen your tongue. Seen the bluntness of your human teeth. And he had seen so, so much porn about what humans could do with those. And it wasn't even considered kinky. It was just a normal part of human sex to just straight up get their faces all up in their partner's junk. Humans were so fucking wild. Life would have been so much better if he'd been hatched a human....

Then maybe he'd be warm and you'd like him back.

But he was warm now and dwelling on things when his bulge was curling around his wrist demanding attention like a needy slitherbeast was counter intuitive. He squeezed it and let out a deep glub into the water.

His fingers ran along the underside, stopping right near the base and he rubbed along the ridge of flesh where his bulge met its sheath. His head arched back, horns scraping against the edge of the tub as his mouth flew open. With the heat of the water he could almost imagine it was your tongue.

Teasing him... circling his base. He wondered if you'd kiss it like they did in human porn or if that was too sentimental. You were sentimental though and this was his fantasy and he liked the thought of you kissing him there. And if he closed his eyes and concentrated enough he could almost feel the ghost of your lips kiss their way down his thorax. Warm, soft, and so human.

It was difficult to feel human with water flowing over his gills instead of air filling up his windsac- lungs. Humans called them lungs. Much quicker to say.

But he let his mind float just like his body for a moment, steeped in warmth. You'd tell him he was thinking too much. Maybe not the real you, but he liked the thought of someone telling him he was thinking too much instead of not thinking at all, and Eridan was out for the night and pops wasn't around he had plenty of time to enjoy himself.

Cronus stroked his bulge a few times to get back into it, an unrestrained moan escaping his throat. You'd look so good between his thighs. He dipped his finger into his nook, rubbing up against his shameglobes. He spread his legs a little wider, pushing in more deeply, adding another and scissoring them.

His other hand went up to grab the shamestick he'd left on the tub's edge. It was special. A human one. Made to look like a human penis. Which really didn't look anything like bulges. Had their shameglobes on the outside just... dangling around... just asking for someone to bite them off or something. Fucking wild.

And humans even put it in their mouths. Humans put everything in their mouths.... He gave the tip of the shamestick a tentative lick. It tasted neutral like the silicon it was made of, and idly wondered if he were to show off his prowess if you'd realize how great of a partner he'd be. He took it into his mouth, careful to avoid his sharp teeth.

Maybe if he could show you just how far he could take it down, you'd be so impressed that you'd fuck him right then and there. Yeah, he'd show you just how great he could be-

As it hit the back of his tongue, Cronus gagged, reflexively pulling back. He could feel the silicon getting caught on his teeth and pulled out the mangled toy, spitting out the little silicon ribbons into the water.

Shit.

Those pailvid actors had made it look so easy... it wasn't fair.

Okay maybe that wouldn't impress you.... But impressing you was probably just not a great road to try to go down anyway. Sure maybe all the porn had to count for something, but if he tried anything he'd probably just broadcast how inexperienced he was. Maybe if he guilted you....

No.

No. He could worry about that later.

He was too far out of the fantasy now. He didn't have to worry about wooing fantasy you. You could already human like him and want to be with him....

Want to whisper sweet things against his fins while you ran your hands all over his body. He gripped his bulge, stroking it to the thought of your tongue running over his gills like some debauched god of hedonism. Humans were freaks like that. It was amazing.

Probably.

At least your pailvids were.

He bet you were a freak though.

Yeah.

He reached over and grabbed the nice shamestick, the one that vibrated and was completely unrealistic, from the rim of the tub. He teased the entrance of his nook as his bulge curled tightly around his wrist. Cronus was usually too lazy to break out the shamesticks, but tonight... tonight was all for him.

He pushed in slowly, mouth falling open at the delicious stretch. He set it to vibrate and held it there as his hips bucked into it and his bulge slithered around and tightened its grasp on his wrist, and an incredibly sinful thought wormed its way into his head.

He licked his lips, pulling the shamestick out.

"What a good way to loosen yourself up," You'd whisper to him. He scissored his fingers like you would. "But I bet there's something else that'd work even better."

He could hear the low clicks of his purr reverberating between the walls of the tub.

Wrangling his bulge with just one hand was far more difficult than he anticipated, so he dropped his shamestick to finish straightening his bulge with the other. And with a sharp inhale, followed by several coughs to get the water out of his airsac- lungs, he curled his bulge so the tip lined up with the entrance to his nook.  

He slowly slid it in, muscled twitching, overwhelmed by the sensation. He wriggled and thrashed inside himself and he positively keened.

"You look so good like that," And you'd lick his fin, grinding your heel against the base of his bulge. "Absolutely gorgeous stretched out from your own bulge like the beautiful little degenerate you are. My beautiful little degenerate."

Oh fuck.

He wasn't going to last.

It took a ridiculous amount of restraint to just hold his bulge in there with his hand while it explored everything his nook had to offer. It twisted and undulated, curled back in on itself in the tight space. A sob caught in his throat. He'd only done this once before, and it had been too intense to keep it up more than a few seconds... not to mention the absolute debased nature of self-penetration. Pailing without a partner? He really was a degenerate.

Not that he didn't know that already.

"My degenerate." Your voice echoed in his thoughts and he relaxed as much as one could with their bulge stuffed so far up their nook it had to double back on itself; Which is to say, not much. But it cleared his mind so he could focus on the sensation and the thought of you watching him with a wicked, hungry smile.

His body quaked as he lost himself to well... himself, his bulge finally thrashing its way out of his nook as his attention lapsed.

He pumped himself hard and fast, his other hand grabbing the still vibrating shamestick and pressing it back into his nook, right up against his globes.

It was probably a good thing he was under water because he shrieked out your name as he tipped over the edge, genetic material pluming out into the water, reflecting in the moonlight pouring in.

"My, my... look at all of that slurry." He continued to stroke himself, "All of that slurry but no bucket... what a little degenerate. Do you like not using one? I bet you like the way it looks when it's splattered over don't you? I bet you want to fill someone up, don't you?" He nodded, milking himself for all he was worth to the thought of filling you up too, not stopping until his body was trembling at the almost painful overstimulation.

He heaved himself up out of the water, breathing heavily, coughing when some water got in.

Cronus kind of wished he'd recorded that to watch later because it was undoubtedly one of the hottest things he'd ever done.

He was still shuddering as his bulge slowly retracted.

He really was your little degenerate wasn't he?

[atlaese]

Chapter 3: inconclusive

summary: the moment is finally there pairing: spencer reid x reader TW: alcohol, angst, fluff, slow-burn, cussing, typos, spencer being a little bitch for a hot sec words: 2K a/n: Honestly, wouldn’t this kind of service be useful for some people? I think I would take the DNA test (even if they would clone me lmao), because I am singleeeeee af at least I would have a clone to talk to then, you know. Also can someone explain to me how I can write like 2K words for every chapter in record time, but can barely write a paragraph for my thesis ahaha help music rec; sweet & sour by Elli Ingram honestly this song is amaziiiiing Anyway, hope you liked this chapter :) xx <3 do let me know if you guys like this series!!

SPENCER REID MASTERLIST

A few stressful weeks had passed, when one morning Spencer woke up to an email saying

Hi there,

We know we kept you waiting, but you probably have been waiting for this moment for a long time. Click on the link down below to see who your genetically guaranteed match™ is.

Kind regards,

Rebecca

CEO The One

“Oh god”, he murmured to himself as he felt bile coming up his throat. He was physically getting sick; this clearly explains how nervous he actually is for this stupid test, which apparently actually works and fuc- Spencer ran to the bathroom to throw up. No chance in hell that he is opening this website himself. He probably would press the wrong button and delete his match or something. Then he’d just about to be ready to simply pass away.

Penelope Garcia. He needed Garcia, she would open the email and click on the link and find his match. Spencer hurried to get himself ready, skipping breakfast and even skipping getting his usual sugary coffee on the way to the office. He was ready in 6 minutes and 43 seconds. He got to the office in under 26 minutes and 12 seconds, which was probably a new record.

He took big strides towards Garcia’s office, not even glancing towards the bullpen to see who was in already and almost kicked in her door like Morgan did when an unsub wouldn't open their door.

“Jesus, Reid, you scared me,” she put her hand over her heart, but once she saw his pale complexion and the way he held his hand stretched towards her, showing his phone with an email open she slowly asked with her eyes narrowing, “what’s up boy wonder? Are we hacking someone today?”

“No, no I need, - I need you to open this email and tell me who my match is, because I’m way too stressed and I- uh I-uh my hands are too shaky to press on the little link they inserted and I’m scared to see who my match is because they’re probably too perfect for me and-”

Penelope put her hands up, “ow, Spencer, calm down. Give me your phone,” she stretched out her palm and Spencer put his phone on it, “and by the way, have you seen yourself? You are so handsome and such a sweet person, you’re really smart and don’t boast about it, you literally devote your life to putting bad people behind bars. So if anyone is the perfect one, it’s you.” Penelope wanted to give him a hug, but as he was averse to touch and stressed the fuck out, she just got to work on her computer. Penelope Garcia was really a godsend, Spencer thought for the millionth time.

“Alright so, let’s click on this link now, shall we?”, a webpage opened, prompting login details. She looked over at Spencer, who was bouncing his leg up and down, while looking at the ground. “Alright, hacking it is”, she mumbled to herself as her fingers flew over the keyboard. Once she was in the system, which didn’t take very long because Spencer’s password was the name of an author he talked about way too much, she clicked on the button to reveal the match.

“Um, Reid, are you sure you did the test right?” Spencer’s head shot up, “Garcia, of course I did it right. I have three literal doctorates and I know my way around a lab like you do around computers. What kinda ridiculous question is this?” He almost spat the words as he stood up. Penelope did a double take. “No need to be a dick about it Reid, it’s just-"

“Inconclusive? What the hell is that supposed to mean,” he cut her off as he read the words on screen. The nervousness from this morning had evolved into… some sort of emptiness, that settled in the pit of his stomach. “I-I’m afraid I don’t understand?”

Does this mean he literally has no match? Out of all 7,852,601,298 people on this world, he has no one that matched to his DNA?

“I read the studies. Out of the 2 million samples they tested, they found that about 1,35% of people have two matches, it didn’t say anything about having no matches? This makes no sense. It makes no sense at all. Why is this happening to me?”

Spencer felt a bit dazed, this honestly was the universe giving him a big fuck you yet again. As if his life wasn’t messed up enough already.

“Wait Reid, look, Some results are inconclusive, because your match has not yet allowed us to share their identity. This sometimes happens when people take our test while still in another relationship, and aren’t ready yet to meet you. We suggest waiting 2 weeks before contacting us at the number 1-800-… so they’re still dating someone else then? That’s kinda weird that they’d do the test, right?” Garcia felt bad for her colleague, is this considered cheating in a relationship? Did they match her sweet genius with a cheater?

“I should have known this would turn out to be a disaster. I should just not have done this test and gotten my hopes up,” he said almost dismissively.

He snatched his phone back from Garcia and stormed out of Penelope’s office, straight to his desk, ignoring his colleagues who had arrived in the mean time.

JJ wanted to stop him to ask for his opinion on a case, but when she saw the forlorn expression on his face, she turned to Emily instead, raising her brow as if to say I don’t know what’s wrong with him and I’m honestly afraid to ask.

* * *

You were running a little bit late to your meet-up with Sian at a restaurant downtown. Your computer had crashed whilst you were putting in data, so you had to redo 2 hours of work, some guy jumped into the cab that you had waved over and you actually lost your contact somewhere in another cab, because you were rubbing your eyes due to lack of sleep. When you eventually found the contact, you decided against putting it back on your eye, you know, for sanitary reasons. One quick stop at your apartment to pick up your glasses, the cab finally dropped you off at the restaurant, only 25 minutes late.

“I am so sorry Sian, I swear I just had the worst day and my conta- wait who is this?”, you asked as you sat across from Sian, who was sitting next to a really pretty woman with beautiful deep brown braids, mixed with a hint of dark purple.

“This is Imani, my match,” Sian proudly announced, her hand grasping Imani’s on the table, as if to back what she had just said.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t expect you to already introduce us,” you stretched out your hand to shake Imani’s, “it’s really nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” You shook hands as Sian continued, “yeah well, it’s just been going so great between us two. It’s like we’ve known each other for a lifetime already.”

You glanced at the two, as they gazed at each other with such warmth, that you usually see between couples who have been together for quite some time. “Wait so,” you gestured between the two of them, “how long has this been going on?”

“I would say 6 weeks give or take,” Imani guessed. “Oh wow,” you took a large breath, “and you both did the test?”

They both nodded, again as they held hands on the table, “okay, so it works then. That’s… great to know.”

Imani kicked Sian under the table, to which she grimaced and squeezed Imani’s hand, “not now babe”, she gave a pointed look and waved over the waiter. You looked up expectantly from the menu but both women refused to meet your gaze.

You ordered your food and decided to order a bottle of wine as well, you needed some alcohol in your system after this horrible day. You decided to ask Imani about her job. She was a lawyer who represented immigrants, which you always could use more of for the NGO you worked for. “So if I ever needed some legal assistance in the country for one of my cases, I could call you yeah?”

Imani nodded and got out a business card, “call me anytime. If I am busy, I'll make sure one of my colleagues can help.”

You guys continued talking all throughout dinner. Imani was such a great person, and a great fit for Sian as well. Those matchmakers really hit the nail on the head with that one.

“You know, I keep getting spam emails”, you complained as you opened the menu card the waiter gave you, “from the matching service thingy? I have no idea how they got my email address to be honest.”

Sian and Imani looked at each other with wide eyes, but you failed to notice the interaction, too busy looking at all the mouth-watering desserts on the menu. “So, have you read the emails then or?” Sian cautiously asked.

“No of course not. My computer already crashed once today, I don’t need some virus to make it crash again and delete all my shit,” you scoffed, not believing that she could say something like that, “That’s textbook 101: how to get hacked, Si, I know I’m no computer wizard but I’m not stupid either.”

Imani gave Sian a pointed look, which you perceived as two people bickering over something one person said. Imani knew what Sian had done, but it was really not her place to say something, much less to take the brunt of something that was quite unethical.

——

The workday was almost over for the BAU. It had been a slow, paperwork kinda day, and even though Spencer would fly through the reports and would be the first one to leave the office (which made the rest of the team jealous), today he just couldn’t concentrate. He had done only a third of the files he was supposed to work though, and he knew Hotch would want them on his desk tomorrow morning, so he was already preparing himself for an all-nighter.

JJ had already left to spent a night with Will and Henry for once, Derek and Emily went to a bar together and Hotch and Rossi were in a meeting (even though laughter could be heard through the door so he guessed the meeting was accompanied with some type of alcohol). The only people left working were him and Garcia.

Which struck him to be odd, because Kevin had come by to pick her up, but he left alone after a while…

Just as he was about to check up on her, he saw her bounding towards him, with a smile suppressed on her face. Her colourful outfit almost like an artistic blur that swept through the bullpen.

“Okay, so don’t be mad at me, but I did something,” she confessed as she placed a manilla folder in front of Spencer.

“Garcia, what did you do,” he knew what she’d done, so asking was pointless, but he was in such disbelief that she had actually done it.

“Well, I might have hacked a few databases, which were very hard to get into by the way, which is also plus because you know, DNA is stored and you don’t want people stealing raw DNA codes. You never know what they might do with it, there’s some wicked people in the world Reid,” she took a big breath and blinked rapidly, “Obviously you know that, seeing the business we’re in but yeah. Anyway the databases were spread over different servers, that kept rerouting me, but I cracked that, but then I noticed they had IDEA encryption. That is literally such difficult kind of encryption. So Kevin helped me crack it and yeah now we are here,” she ended her very dr. Reid like info-dump, wringing her hands together.

She knew she shouldn’t have done it. But she couldn’t look at the disappointment spread clear as day on Spencer’s face anymore, every time she passed his desk on her way to get some coffee.

Spencer looked like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. Unable to move before fate struck. Eyes wide as saucers and a million-and-one thoughts flying through his head at light speed.

Penelope was saying something, but she sounded as if she was talking through water. He picked up the folder and looked at what was scribbled on the front.

Y/N Y/L/N was written on the manilla folder in neat handwriting, a little pink heart adorning your name.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

Taglist: @measure-in-pain

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

NSFW (whole alphabet) for Captain Rex? 🥺🥺

A/N: Hell yes! Sorry this took so long for me to get to. I love Rex so much, words cannot describe. I hope to do my favorite Captain justice. And as a reminder, REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!! These take just as much time as drabbles and the tags hate me.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Can you say, soft? Because Rex is soft. He’ll do whatever you ask; run a bath, rub your sore muscles, hold you close, whatever you want.  He is the sweetest man after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Rex honestly has a hard time picking his favorite part about you.  His first instinct is to say your legs, but then he thinks about it and say the part where your legs meet your back.  Actually, that whole area.  That, and above it...

For himself, Rex is actually really proud of his back.  You’ve playfully giving him a few wolf whistles when you’ve seen him doing pull ups without a shirt on.  He knows he’s strong and if the way your nails dig into his back when he takes you against a wall is any indication; you appreciate his strength too.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He always ends up leaving a mess whenever he cums.  From lack of experience, he hasn’t quite got the timing down on pulling out and so it often spills half inside you, some on your skin and some on the mattress.  There are times you wonder if he does it on purpose. There have been a few times he openly moaned at the sight of his cum dripping down your inner thigh.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He does cum in a mess on purpose. He apologizes every time and helps clean you up.  However, that doesn’t stop him from getting hard all over again at the sight of you blissed out of your mind and stained with his cum.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

We’re going to say none before you.  Like seriously.  I don’t know where is Dom-Captain Rex came from in the fandom, but that is not this man’s M.O.  His devotion is 110% to the GAR and we see how awkward he gets in social situations outside anything having to do with the army or his brothers.

So, yeah, Captain Rex is a virgin the first time you have sex.  You cannot convince me otherwise.  Luckily for you, he’s also a man who learns and adapts quickly. ;)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

You on your back with your legs draped over his arms as he pounds into you.  He gets a perfect view of everything; your bouncing tits, your eyes, the way his cock slides in and out of you, plus the option to grab hold of the headboards and really go to down.

A close second is pinning your back against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist. He loves the feeling of your nails down his back as he fucks up into you.  And gravity does the work for him when he pulls out and sees his cum going down your leg.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It takes him a while to loosen up in bed.  When you guys first start having sex it’s like he’s on a recon mission; what works, what doesn’t, testing his own endurance as well as yours, that kind of thing.  It’s only when he gets a full inventory on how to make you feel good as well as himself does he start cracking jokes. It’s not the norm, but it reaches about 30%.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn’t really do much down there until he meets you, besides keeping it clean.  After you guys start sleeping together, he starts to trim it down and experiment a bit.  He even shaved all the hair off at one point, but you assured him he didn’t need to.

Also, he had dark hair down there.  No, he is not bleaching his pubic hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Rex is focused on you the entire time.  He wants you to know he’s paying attention to you and listening to your wants and needs.  It’s more a sliding scale of how emotional it can get, often depending on how much of his own emotion and tension he’s keeping bottled up.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s done it plenty of times before he met you and continues to do it after you get together; his fantasies now just focus on you and you exclusively. Privacy is an issue in the GAR so often he has to wait late at night to get the showers to himself.  However, he prefers it when he gets a chance to take the time alone in his own bed. It’s really the best way he knows to fully relax without you there beside him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Rex is still exploring his kinks, but he’s finding he gets a certain thrill out of cum play.  Eating you out with his cum still in your pussy is not something he’d ever thought he’d enjoy until one night he couldn’t help himself and ended up cumming on the mattress while you came again on his tongue.

And, I’m just going to put this headcanon to bed. CAPTAIN REX IS NOT A DOM, HE IS A SWITCH!!!

Yes, he likes it when you call him Captain or Sir in bed.  Yes, he likes giving you orders and having you obey them to the letter.  But if you’re telling me he doesn’t get off to the idea of you riding his face and using his body in any way you choose to find your own pleasure; then you and I are not talking abut the same character.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your apartment  Like I said, privacy is an issue on more GAR ships. The Clones have quarters on Coruscant, but it lacks the personality of your place, not to mention you have thicker walls.  It also means he’s off duty and doesn’t have to be worried of being call to the bridge at any given moment.  He can fully relax and focus on you and himself.

Now when it comes to where in your apartment, literally anywhere to a flat surface. He’s not picky.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You calling him “sir” or “captian” in public.  To give him some credit, it’s not only the words, so much as how you say them.  If you say, “yes, sir” like you’re out of breath or worse, if you look up at him through heavy eyelids, he’s going to need a minute to straighten himself out.

There’s also this spot just on the edge of his hairline on his neck that melts him.  All you have to do is brush that spot with your finger or your lips and he’s going to groan.

And cliche, but I have to say it; any time he sees you kick droid ass or even just verbally destroy somebody in a debate.  Your his cyar’ika and he’s going to let you do whatever you want to him that night.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Water play.  He found it by accident when researching different stuff to try.  He thought it would be like shower sex and it’s...not.  The moment he realized what it was he was disgusted and told you immediately that was going on the “no” list.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Split 50/50 between preferring to give or receive. God knows how many times he’s gotten himself off to the image of your lips wrapped around his cock.  He loves how your fingers dig into his thighs as you take him all the way into your mouth.  And seeing cum drip down your lip is enough to get him hard again in seconds.

On the other hand having your perfect thighs wrapped around his head as you fuck is face is as close to heaven as he can imagine. He can stay inbetween your legs for hours reveling in your taste and the way your tremble around him every time he makes you cum. His current record is making you cum three times in the row with just his tongue and fingers before you pushed him away just so you could breath.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can do either or, but he leans more on the rough side. No matter how slow he might start, by the end he’s gripping your thighs like a vice and pounding into your cunt as he loses all sense of control.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Only if he knows he’ll get to have you all to himself later that night.  He thinks of quickies as just a preview of what’s the come, rather than a done deal. 

That all being said, he’s not keen on them.  For one, he doesn’t want to risk getting caught. Two, he would never, ever, have a quickie while on duty.  Which leads to three, if he’s already off duty he might as well take you to bed right now.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Like I’ve said, Rex lacks a lot of experience, but he’s adaptable and a fast learner. You guys have a list of different things you want to try and are slowly working your way down, checking what you like and crossing out ones you don’t.

The only thing he won’t risk is getting caught in the act.  For one, he would never hear the end of it from the rest of the 501st.  And second, he thinks it would reflex negatively, not only on himself as a solider but on the rest of the GAR.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As a genetically enhanced soldier, his stamina is insane. Granted, it takes him a while to hold off his own orgasm the first few times you have sex.  But, his recovery time is amazing.

He’s good for about three rounds on an average night and once he gets the hang of things, he can make those three rounds last hours.

Your current record is him cumming five times in one night while you lost count once you reached the double digits.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Captain Rex would not be caught dead having any toys with him.  Not in his bunk, not in his apartment on Coruscant, not anywhere.  He cannot imagine how he’d explain that to anyone if they found out.

However, you have a perfectly nice little collection at your apartment.  You guys have been experimenting.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He tries, but he’s not good at it. When he gets into his, “Captain” mode, he does like the idea of keeping you on the edge, but it never lasts.  As soon as you buck your lips and the first little, “please” leaves your lips, he’s done. He has to give you everything.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not quiet, but he’s not going to scare the neighbors.  He’s a talker, surprisingly.  It’s like whatever filter he has as a commander just slips away the moment he buries himself inside you. He praises how you feel.  He mumbles curses and promises until they turn into delirious grunts and groans just before he cums.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Everyone in the 501st knows you guys are fucking the moment you start, even if Rex never tells anyone anything.  He is terrible at hiding his feelings toward you.  Add that to the fact both Fives and Jesse noticed the not so subtle hickies all over his body, and it’s not hard to guess where he got them from.

Rex denies it whenever it’s brought up, but everyone knows the truth.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again; EVERY SINGLE CLONE IS HUNG WITH A THICK EIGHT INCH DICK! And since all of them don’t really have a frame of reference as to what’s “big” or not, they all assume they’re average size (at least until they get someone in bed).

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not crazy high, but after he meets you it’s like his sex drive just triggered into over drive. It could also be because you guys are apart so often.  But, either way you’re having sex almost every night you’re together.  Maybe after the war things will calm down, but not before then.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost as soon as you guys finally decide to call it a night.  He’s fallen asleep a few times while in the bathtub with you, is all I’m saying.

[futurebicon]

Carolina

Marine Biologist AU that no one asked for but I wrote because I miss my second home. Probably two parts.

Very brief mention of a family members death

"Hi welcome to-" Leo stopped his normal speech when he was met with the two most gorgeous men he had ever laid eyes on. "Welcome to the Fort Fisher aquarium. I'm your tour guide Leo and this is Regulus." He somehow managed to snap out of his shock even though the greeting was all muscle memory.

“Two guides. Must be special." The red haired one laughed a laugh that made doves fly. "I'm Finn." He shook their hands.

"That and both of us wanted a break from sticky children trying to swim with the sharks and gators." Reg smiled.

"Sharks? Like ocean sharks? And ocean alligators?" The shorter one asked in shock and a lot more than a sprinkle of fear.

'Fuck he's adorable' Leo swore internally. "Alligators are typically fresh water reptiles but if you are asking if they are real sharks and alligators, than no. They're they’re hyperealalistic mechanical sculptures." He kept a straight face.

"Cute and funny." Finn flashed him a smile after another angelic laugh.

Leo had to remind himself to not die right then and there.

“Don't worry, Logan" Finn told the other one. "I'll protect you from the scary teeth, baby."

Now Leo was sad.

“Oh yeah, right after you stop ogling over our hot tour guide."

Now Leo was slightly less sad and confused.

“Actually." Regulus pulled out his phone. "Our manager just texted and said he needs someone in the gift shop. Have fun." He left with a pat on Leos back.

Leo glared as he walked away, they didn't get texts from anyone for any assignment. Hence the walkie talkies on their belt loops.

“So, follow me and we can start the tour." +++

“This is our 235,000 gallon tank." Leo stood over top of the two story tall tank. In here we have our eagle rays, round stingrays, whiptail stingrays, hammerhead sharks, sandbar sharks, sand tiger sharks, hammerhead sharks. We also have two moray eels and an abundance of fish including shanks and groupers. And a personal favorite, Sheldon the green sea turtle.” Leo stood on the rusted grate with ease as if he didn’t care about the hammerhead only a few feet away from his toes.

“Um, this is great and all but can we not stand on the edge without a railing?” Logan stayed as far away as he could an the 2 feet wide walkway.

“You’re completely safe don’t worry.” Leo flashed a reassuring smile.

“Okay yeah but-”

“Stop being a baby, Lo.” Finn poked his side.

“I’m sorry I’m scared of falling into a 23 foot deep death cylinder filled with sharks.” Logan defended himself.

“Alright we can go officially start the tour.” Leo laughed. “But we do have to walk across the tank.”

“We what?” Logan asked.

“It’s okay. Just don’t look down.” He decided to risk a wink.

“Listen to the hot guide, babe.” Finn kissed Logan’s cheek. “I’ll hold your hand.”

“I love you, Harzy. But I do not trust you enough to not try and scare me.”

“I promi- no I don’t. Fine.” Finn whined when his plans were spoiled.

“Alright, let’s go.” Leo laughed.

They got across the walkway with only a few exaggerated wobbles to scare Logan. And a very grumpy Logan when Leo told him there was another way around the tank.

+++

“So here we have our bald eagle Maverick.” Leo walked up to the opened enclosure. “He’s five years old and has been here since he was two. He was found on the side of the road nearly starved after being hit by a car. If you look at his left wing you can see it juts out a little. That is due to the bones fusing together incorrectly and it makes him unable to ever fly again.” He recited the well known script.

“Poor baby” Finn stuck his bottom lip out.

Leo blinked away the urge to kiss the sad look off his face.

“If we walk up here you can see the aquariums prized possession.” Leo smiled. “Luna the albino Alligator.”

“Oh my god.” Finn hurried over to the glass.

“She looks like you, lover. Pale as fuck.” Logan teased.

“Luna is one of just 100 recorded albino alligators world wide.”

“World wide?” Logan asked in shock.

“Yeah. It’s an extremely rare genetic mutation and due to the inability to hide from predators they’re numbers are next to zero. Very soon they’ll be no more albino gators.”

“What happened to that alligators toes?” Logan pointed at the dark green alligator.

“That’s Gantur. He still hasn’t learn that Luna’s the leader.”

“She bit them off?” Logan’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t underestimate her. Ready to continue?”

+++

“This is my favorite exhibit.” Leo’s face lit up as they walked up to the touch pool.

“Touch anything as long as you use two fingers and don’t pick anything up.”

“Are those stingrays?” Finn pointed towards the end of the touch pool.

“Yeah. They’re still babies and their stingers have been trimmed. Their barbs are like thumbnails and can be clipped monthly without any harm.”

“What are those?”

Leo’s face lit up impossibly more.

“These are horseshoe crabs.” He held onto one of the dark greenish brown banjo shaped creature.

“They are also called living fossils due to the fact that they haven’t evolved at all since the dinosaurs, around 450 million years. It’s mostly due to the fact that they didn’t need anything added or taken away for survival. They were made perfectly. Now their tails.” He pointed to the long stick like end as it moved around with the help of what looked like scaley gills. “Most people look at it and think it will hurt. But it won’t hurt at all. They are extremely, extremely clumsy and use the long tail to flip themselves back over.”

“Sounds like you.” Finn kissed Logan.

“Rude.” Logan scoffed.

“Horseshoe crabs aren’t actually crabs at all. They’re actually more closely related to scorpions and spiders. Watch.” Leo smirked and flipped it over.

There were five pairs of claws moving around as the gills moved up and down like abs, causing the tail to move with it.

“Here-” Leo grabbed Logan’s hand, he tried hard to ignore the way his skin burned. “Touch it.”

“Oh no I’m okay to just look.”

“Come on, just touch it.” Leo begged. “Please just touch it.” He pouted.

“Oh my fuck you’re adorable.” Logan voiced Leo’s exact same thoughts from before.

“Here” he blushed and bit his lib to contain the smile. “Touch it.” He guided Logan’s hand down to the center of the legs, desperately trying to not think about how close they were. Logan’s t-shirt touching his blue polo shirt with his name stitched in the side. The way he could feel Logan’s breathing against his side, the way his leg was pressed between Logans le- stop it.

“Eww that feels weird” Logan’s laughed raised goosebumps on his arm.

“You’re touch his mouth.”

“Ew ew ew ew” Logan pulled his hand away quickly as Finn cackled.

“You asshole” Logan laughed as he pushed Leo lightly.

“Sorry, but it’s funny.” Leo laughed.

“You are now my second favorite person on earth.” Finn put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Oh my god I’m crying.” He wiped his eyes.

“Wouldn’t mind if he stayed our favorite.” Logan smiled.

Leo blushed and moved onto the regular view of the huge tank.

+++

“So how’d you get a job here?” Logan asked Leo as they walked around.

“I’ve lived on the island my whole life and started volunteering here when I was 13.” He explained. “I’m going to UNCW for marine biology. Are you two just here for vacation? Even though it’s April.”

“No. We’re actually moving down here. My grandparents owned the arcade on the boardwalk and left it to me once they passed.” Finn told him.

“Oh. I’m sorry about their passing.”

“It’s okay. Didn’t really know them at all.”

“Well I’ll hopefully see you around.”

“Maybe you don’t have to hope.”

Leo tilted his head in confusion.

“We were just wondering if you would want to show us around the island.” Logan told him. “We’ve only been here for a few days and this is the first place we’ve been to. Not even the beach.”

“Oh that’s nearly a sin.” Leo teased. “I’d love to show you guys around. I get off in an hour.”

“Perfect.” Finn said happily. “Do you want to drive over to our house and then switch cars or do you need to change?”

“That’ll work. There’s a locker room and since there’s next to no one here considering the time of year Evan will probably let me leave early.” Leo couldn’t hide his smile as they walked into the brightly lit gift shop.

Logan let out a loud gasp and ran over to the 6 foot long jellyfish stuffie. “I want it.”

“It’s tentacles are going to strangle you, love.” Finn shook his head.

“Kinky” Logan wiggled his eyebrows.

Finn scoffed as three other people in the quiet store laughed.

“Oh hi again Regulus.” Logan smiled at the black haired man who was sitting on the countertop beside the register tossing a brightly colored foam ball with turtles on it between his hands.

“Hey” He smiled back.

“What’d they need help with down here?” Finn looked around the empty room cluelessly.

“He didn’t help me?” The girl beside him raised an eyebrow. “Hi, Rue by the way.” She waved before going back to glaring at Regulus. “Did Evan tell you to help me?”

“No.” Reg smirked. “Just wanted to leave Leo alone with his crushes.”

“Reg” Leo pushed him.

“It’s mutual.” Finn said and Logan nodded.

“Okay. I’m gonna go ask Evan if I can get off early so I can show you a tour of the island and then get changed and I’ll be back down.” Leo changed the subject quickly.

“They’ll show you a tour of their bedroom and then get you off early.” Rue said quietly but not quiet enough. Leo shoved her hard as Logan, Finn, and Reg cackled.

+++

“So are we ready?” Leo walked back down in shorts and a UNCW t-shirt.

A cropped UNCW t-shirt.

“Uh- yeah. Yeah. Um, yeah.” Finn stuttered failing to make it look like he wasn’t staring at Leo’s tan abs.

Finn on the other hand had no shame. His eyes raked his entire body as his mouth went dry.

“Alright. I’ll follow you guys?”

“Huh? Oh yeah.” Logan nodded.

“Get it Knut.” Reg cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted as they left the gift shop and headed outside to the 100 degree weather.

@lumosinlove