#got a lot of catching up to do but we are getting there

[superhoeva]

i think we need to make jack abbot the nastiest freak in the entire world

𝐣. 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭 – 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 (𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭; +𝟏𝟖) | this got out of hand. god forgive me. warnings are that this is all porn and no plot, very gross, language, dirty talk, lots of bodily fluids, squirting (!), pussy slapping, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving), 69, overstimulation, jack being the "nastiest freak in the entire world, very very mention of robby x reader (literally a sentence). minors dni!

“Now, what’s this here all about? S’pose to be watching a movie and you’re too busy soaking my favorite panties…”

Jack mumbles the accusation like he hasn’t been snogging at a spot just below your ear, and pressing at your clit for the past twenty minutes. No matter how sweet you whine or gentle you squirm, he’s got you trapped atop the mattress, hand between your legs while his other arm hooks around your shoulders to keep you still.

“Fuck the movie,” you groan out, finally finding the room to grind your hips into where his fingers have slipped past the waistband of your shorts and underwear. You aren’t allowed very long to sit in the warm pulse as it spreads, Jack rescinding the pressure the pinch lightly at you swelling pearl. “Ah.”

The man chuckles at your squeal, tongue flicking the shell of your ear before dragging down to lap at your neck. He sucks in a hiss after a few licks, not noticing the hand you're snaking to the thick bulge at the crotch of his sweatpants until you squeeze the girth and release a breathy moan.

He tilts his head so he can look you in the eyes as your hand drags up and down, gripping him. You both hold the stare, hot and unafraid, just as Jack’s tongue snakes back out of his mouth and licks a long swipe across your bottom lip. He doesn’t stop until your mouth is slick with his spit before his lids finally shut so he can focus on curling his tongue to rake against yours. Jack sucks, consuming you, bucking into your palm.

“Grab the towel, baby,” Jack huffs, barely pulling away to give the soft command. He kisses where your eyebrows pull together with an entertained smile, nodding his head to the edge of the mattress.

Swiveling your head, there it is. The towel, folded up tight and waiting patiently. You turn back to Jack with blinking eyes, who’s still grinning at you. A few thick beats of silence pass before you grin back, pecking his chin and reaching for the fabric.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to get you settled. All he lets you do is watch as he diligently spreads the towel and moves the pillows, shifting on his side and patting the bed when he’s finally satisfied. “C’mere, gorgeous.”

You fit against him easy, and he slides off your shorts with even less trouble.

“Fuck me,” you hear Jack mumble to himself, his hand returning to your center and finding that you’ve completely ruined the thin layer of material. “Jesus, look at all that.”

Head against the pillows, you stare and buzz with poorly-concealed anticipation. You’re aching with a muddied throb, clenching around nothing as Jack peels your pantnies from your slit with a measured exhale. He doesn’t even look to see when he throws the garment as you automatically shift and spread your legs. So much for them being his favorite...

“How much you think you got in you tonight?”

Jack’s question is followed by him spitting at his fingers, and the sight of him freezes you into silence. His chest and biceps puff proudly in the simple t-shirt he’s sporting, a vein stretches up his neck like lighting, and his eyes are determined yet overcast with a haze of fervor. You swallow at his build, peeking down to catch a glimpse of where his cock sits completely solid and visible through the groin of his sweats. 

You know better than to reach for it now, but it doesn’t make the desire any less compelling. Head flooding with the image of his tip angry and leaking, shaft twitching at it pulses out a load, an involuntary whimper forces itself out of you.

“What was that?” Jack asks you, stare twinkling with satisfaction when your delayed response is interrupted by a silent scream. He studies you, tongue peeking out of his mouth while he slides two fingers knuckle deep inside you.

Your chest heaves when he immediately curls until the pads of his fingers knock right across your g-spot. You gasp, already arching from the bed as Jack massages the location with heavy strokes, thumb angling to frame steady circles around your clit. He pairs all of this with a dipping of his head to suck where your nipples pebble through your tank.

Not one care in the world does he give to the wet patches he’s forming across your shirt. His teeth nip at your bust, and your chest hums with a dizzying thrum. His fingers continue to work you, your pussy strangling their thickness as Jack increases the speed with a grunt into your still-covered tits.

“Am I hittin’ that spot, baby? Did I find it?”

Fuck Jack because he already knows the answer to that question, but also Fuck, Jack because he keeps the pump of his fingers at a perfect tilt, his thumb hasn’t stopped its kneading of you either, and you’re damn near tears.

The electric feeling rooted just below your belly is blooming something profound. It sweeps across you, numbing out Jack’s groans and the squelches that sound every time he drives deeper inside you. You’ve oozed out a mess out along his fingers and palm, and you sniffle when a familiar urge starts its overtaking of you.

Jack drags his mouth back near yours, mumbling through the kisses he plants at the corner of your mouth.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you? Keep choking my fingers, just like that.” His demand barely reaches your ears, blood rushing past them and making you feel as if you’re under water.

Gasping in short breaths, you’re no longer able to control the volume of your moans, crying out a string of unintelligible words as your legs begin to shake with a new vigor You aren’t aware you’ve already started to surge, but Jack is well wise to each of the gushes that splash against his hand.

“Thaaat’s it,” Jack observes, biting his lip at your writhing and the blind clutch of his arm while you douse the towel beneath you. “That’s a girl. Keep going for me, alright? You got a few more in you, I know you do.”

Your gripping of the man does nothing to stop the pressure from rolling across you once again. The mewls you release are more slurred than the lasts, pussy pulsing as Jack orchestrates another round of impressive cascades of fluid from your hole. You whine and cry, tears dripping a layer of moisture across your cheeks before a wave of something different cruises over you.

There’s no leaking of liquid from you this time but rather a decorating of his fingers with a creamy mixture that makes Jack's mouth water.

“Christ, look at you,” the man breathes, completely captivated. “Make a man lose his mind with a pussy that leaks like that, baby.”

Jack waits until the meat of your lips stops clenching to drag his fingers out of your hole. He takes his sweet time removing them, making sure to mumble out something about how he isn't quite done with you just yet and you’re levitating.

He maneuvers, shuffling you to lean closer into his side. Your eyes crack open only just, still panting but reaching out for the fingers that had just hauled you across the world and back.

The breath that Jack inhales fills his lungs with a tight heat, staring with hooded lids when you open your mouth and engulf his middle finger. His jaw clenches at how your tongue swirls, cock straining almost painfully where it presses against your thigh.

“You gonna save some for me?”

Jack smirks at your slow nod, whispering out a quick good girl before licking a stripe up his palm. Your eyes stay met the entire time, working in tandem to clean his hand so close that your noses bump a few times. Moans tying together, neither of you stop until his skin only slightly gleams with the reminisce of you.

When his finger slides from your mouth, Jack tugs you in for a wet kiss.

“Sorry about your sheets,” you vocalize between kisses but you pout when he pulls away. He looks over you with squinted eyes, sighing as he returns to a lean on his elbow.

“...you’re joking, right?”

You don’t have enough energy to hide your smile, lips curling into a grin as you stretch your limp legs. You sag closer into Jack’s welcoming side, smile widening when you catch him rolling his eyes.

“Just for that, I should make you wash ‘em,” he deadpans, arm reaching back to fold behind his head. Somehow in your haze, he still looks a dream.

You give yourself a long moment to let your eyes dance across the entirety of him, head lulling away from his chest to get a better look at one spot in particular.

Jack manages to stay silent when you free his thick member from his sweatpants, though a long moan can’t help but seep out when you throw a leg over him and fold at the waist.

Maybe it's the twisting of your tongue around his tip, or the smell of your lingering mess that causes it. He decides it's definitely both plus the way you flip off the shirt he’d dirtied with his spit before bending once again. You fit in not more than two licks across of the veins on the underside of his cock and only pull one grunt from his chest before he tugs you backwards by the waist.

“Jack–”

You can feel his smirk as he drags you until you’re hovering over his face. 

“You’re my water, gorgeous… all my fuckin’ air,” he invokes, tongue reaching to kitten lick along your slit. Eyes rolling, Jack sinks you all the way onto his tongue, and groans at your taste. Swallowing whatever his sucking can gather, he partakes in the rare action of letting his eyes shut as he commences his devour of you.

Lips smacking messily, his sounds come out hoarse. They’re broken and nearing a desperation that rolls your stomach nicely. And despite how he’s reducing you back into a shaking mess, you still manage to circle a firm grip around his cock.

A weak thrust of Jack’s hips allows him to pump into your hand and his desired speed while still saving enough space in his head to flick over your clit at a furious pace. It’s when his tongue trades between dunking inside you and trailing back up to sweep at your still sensitive pearl that you flinch.

“Shit,” you declare shakily, hips rising just barely for a second to breathe. Jack just growls and circles his arms around your thighs without enough pressure to lower you back onto his mouth in record speed. “Ja-Jack, wait. I’m close–ah.”

“So am I, so don’t fuckin’ move again,” he grumbles with a slight strain. Sucking messily across your folds and inhaling you with a buried nose, he moves to plant his left foot against the mattress. Whining, you do as he says, remaining cemented to his mouth and slurping at his cock as best you can from when he has you.

You soon find that Jack wasn’t lying when he said he was close, as it only takes a few more short minutes of your sloppy, spit-slick sucking for him to detach from you with a loud groan that’s a mixture of several curses and your name.

“Yeah, right there.” There's a new wobble to his voice when you cup a hand under his balls to give them a gentle squeeze, cheeks hollowing with a little more pressure to really make him really feel it. “Right fucking there.”

You suck until you hear him hiss, pulling off with a pop and licking up the cum from his stomach that had missed your tongue. You end up warm with victory the way Jack has to take five seconds instead of three to catch his breath.

The warmth melts into a blistering heat when Jack regains his head, pulling you to sit up straight and properly ride his face. He helps with the grinding of your hips, one hand one your ass while the other plants onto your waist to guide you. Part of you worries that he isn’t getting enough oxygen with the way his pants have changed to heaves but you don’t dare pull away again.

Your palms find his chest as you approach another edge, mouth parted and voice mewling about how good his tongue feels when it pauses to jerk at your clit. Hips growing a mind of their own, the mattress starts a patterned squeak beneath the both of you as you desperately chase the crest of your peak.

Jack holds you as your vision goes white. You’re unable to breathe as another stream of your juices sloshes out, crashing against Jack’s mouth and face. He moans along with you, gladly swallowing down each drop that has the pleasure of finding his tongue.

With one last splash, you wrench yourself away from his lips and huff. Jack sniffs, not bothering to wipe his face before he kisses along the swell of your ass. Stubble scratching across your skin, he eyes your syrupy hole and grins to himself silently.

Three times is nothing to hang his head at, not with the way you were slurring out his name… even if he did miss Robby's record with you by two.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[lazysoulwriter]

little clues in polish. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: pure fluff, soft launch fun, social media/fan speculation, teasing, affection, subtle intimacy.

---

It starts with a star.

Just one. A tiny, silver thing sitting on Pedro’s pinky nail, barely the size of a freckle. You almost miss it entirely until he slides into the booth beside you at the little diner your friends frequent post-premiere.

Your hand is on the table already, freshly manicured — a galaxy theme this time. Deep navy blue with scattered constellations, starbursts on every nail, some shimmer catching the light. He sees it, nudges your elbow, and grins when you finally catch the match.

“You noticed,” he says, like it’s nothing. Like his heart’s not beating wildly because he picked that little star with you in mind.

You smile. “It’s cute.”

He shrugs. “Felt right.”

And that’s how it begins.

No Instagram stories. No red carpet hand-holding. Just a trail of quiet matching details — fingerprints of affection only the two of you know to look for.

You start getting playful with it.

He shows up to a press junket with a thin line of gold wrapping the tip of his thumb — the same gold that outlines the marble design on your nails in a photo you'd posted earlier that day. Fans notice.

“Okay but why is Pedro’s nail giving the same vibes as [Y/N]’s???” “Matching... again?? Coincidence or coded??” “Is this… a nail soft launch?????”

Threads start popping up. Nail art theories. Timelines. People making little charts with circles and arrows, zooming in on blurry pap pics where you’re both walking five steps apart — but your nail colors are suspiciously complementary.

Pedro finds them one night while you're curled up on his couch, legs over his lap, popcorn between you. He scrolls through the fan theories, chuckling, eyes gleaming.

“They’re obsessed,” he says. “They think I’m trying to launch you like a Marvel movie.”

You snort. “Soft-launch you like a Sephora collab.”

He grins. “You are my favorite limited edition.”

He kisses you after that — slow, sweet. Like he doesn’t mind the build-up. Like he’s savoring the soft part before it gets loud.

The first time it gets close to loud is when you go to an awards afterparty. You’ve kept it lowkey, arriving separately. But you're both seated together inside, and your nails — well. There’s no denying it now.

You’re wearing pink. Pale, glossy, with tiny white hearts on every nail.

Pedro’s hand wraps around his drink, and there it is again — the same heart, tucked neatly onto his ring finger. A different base color, sure. Matte instead of glossy. But unmistakably a match.

The internet explodes.

You scroll through the tweets later with a giggle, curled into his chest. He watches you with that sleepy smile — like he’s been waiting for this moment. Like he’d match your nails a hundred more times if it meant he got to hold you like this.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your temple, “if they’re gonna analyze our hands so much, might as well give them something to really talk about.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

He shrugs. “Thinking next set — matching and we post them. Together.”

You blink. “A full launch?”

He kisses your shoulder. “Let’s give ‘em a reason to finally stop guessing.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

[dantes-jacket]

I’ve only wanted you

Dante x fem reader

Author notes: request #3! You confess to Dante and he rejects you. You two get into an argument, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, love confessions

Dante Sparda. The infamous half demon half human demon hunter. Everyone in town knows his name and his business, Devil May Cry. But you know him as a goofy guy that loves pizza and strawberry sundaes.

He is also your closet friend and your biggest crush. But you’ve taken that secret to the grave. Or well you’re trying. Every time you two hang out it comes closer and closer to being blurted out.

Would it be a bad thing if it got known? You don’t know because you can’t even begin to think what he would say or do. He’d probably think you were just joking and brush it off like he does to the waitress at the cafe. Soon you’ll probably be in her boat at this rate.

You can’t help it though, Dante is so sweet and caring. He’s also super protective about you. He acts differently around you than he does with any other girl. He’s a lot more touchy and flirty with you compared to when he’s with Lady or Trish. He also doesn’t shy away from acting that way when they are around. It’s like he wants to make something known. Maybe you do have a chance.

You’re laying in your bed looking up at the ceiling while all these thoughts run through your head. It just makes your heart hurt more and more. Keeping this secret is really hurting you. Tonight you should tell him, even if it ruins everything. The thought of losing him hurts but the pain you’re feeling now also hurts a lot. You’d rather rip the band aid off instead of hurting yourself slowly.

You get out of bed with groan and get ready to head over to Dante’s. He called you earlier asking if you wanna hang out, of course you didn’t decline because you just want to be near him.

The walk to Devil May Cry is about fifteen minutes. It’s nice because the cool breeze is helping calm yourself down. Today is the day you’re going to confess. You know it could end horribly but that isn’t going to stop you now.

When you arrive you knock and the door and it swings open revealing Dante. “Thought you were the pizza man.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh I’m sorry, I can leave if you want.” You jokingly say while turning around to “walk away”.

He laughs at your joke and grabs your hand, “Not so fast, you’re mine tonight.”

You try to control yourself from blushing so he doesn’t see his comment makes you flustered. It does send your heart racing though. You let him drag you inside and he announces the plan for tonight, “Thought we could eat some pizza and catch up.”

“Sounds like fun.” You nod along with the idea. Wonder what kind of games he has in mind.

You set your purse down and kick off your shoes and head into the kitchen. You grab two beers and bring them back to the living room. You immediately fall onto the couch letting out a sigh of relief. Dante’s couch might be worn and old but it’s comforting and warm at the same time.

Dante comes to join you but it’s stopped in his tracks when he hears a knock at the door again. He grabs the pizza and walks back over to you. “Did you even pay for that?”

“Nah I had them put it on my tab.”

“Dante you’re probably going to go even more in debt if you don’t start paying for this stuff.”

“Hey it’s fineeee. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.” He opens the pizza box and instantly digs in.

You try to not blush at this comment too. He definitely didn’t mean anything by it and was just playing with you. You change the subject and ask, “How have you been?”

He swallows a massive bite then answers, “You know same old same old. Killing demons while looking like a total sexy badass.”

You slap a hand over your face and drag it down of course he had to add the last part. “Yeah, yeah. But I meant how you actually are like as Dante.”

“Oh well that’s not fun. When I’m not hunting and killing demons I do nothing but wait to hunt and kill demons. I mean I’ve had some good pizza and strawberry sundaes recently.”

You roll your eyes, this man is really dense sometimes. “We need to get you a hobby that isn’t hunting and killing demons.”

He looks at you like you were the one that killed him family in front of him, “How dare you say that!”

Great now he’s pouting. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant find something to do in your free time while you wait. You like to dance but you’ve barely done that recently. We could get you some books to read-“

“BLEH, books? Are you trying to kill me with boredom? I’d rather sit in complete silence than read a book.”

You roll your eyes at the man again, “Sometimes I really think you’re a child.”

“Hey-“

“But then I remember you are probably the furthest thing from one.” You look over to him and he’s looking at you. You have his full attention and don’t seem like you’re going to lose it any time soon.

“You’re very strong Dante, the strongest person I know. You care so much about everyone around you and carry so many burdens just so you can help them. You’d take away all the pain from everyone and carry it yourself if you could. You hold the weight of the world on your shoulders but you never complain about it. You only face the problems head on and without any hesitation.”

You let out a shaky breath and continue, “I guess that’s why I fell for you. Everything about you is so admirable that it’s hard not to fall for you. I love you Dante and have for a while.”

You hear his breath hitch and you don’t dare to look at him. You close your eyes and pray that it doesn’t end like the bad scenarios you’ve made up in your head.

“Why did you have to ruin this?”

Your eyes fly open and you snap your neck to look at him. He looks absolutely pissed. “Tell me why did you have to fucking say that?”

Now you’re confused, “What- I don’t get what you mean.”

“WHY DID YOU HAVE TO TELL ME YOU LOVE ME!?” He’s standing up now and yelling. He’s never once raised his voice at you. This is a different side of him and you don’t like it one bit.

You stand up and try to stand toe to toe with him even though you know it’s probably useless. “Because keeping it a secret was hurting me! I had to tell you so it wouldn’t hurt anymore.”

“I don’t fucking care! We are friends and now you had to try and cross that line.”

Now you’re mad, “Don’t act like you don’t act differently around me! You act completely different with me compared to Trish and Lady.” You argued back.

“Well I don’t see you any different from those two! You mean the exact same to me as they do, nothing more nothing less. You’re basically a work friend. I’m not interested in you that way at all.”

Work friend? That’s it? After everything you two have gone through together in the past years, he doesn’t see you as someone close to him. You freeze and bite your lip at his comment. It’s like he’s tearing out your heart and handing it right back to you.

“I’m not even a demon hunter Dante!” You yell back. You lower your head so he wouldn’t see the tears that are starting to run down your cheeks. You lower your voice, “I was wrong, you’re not a good person. You’re just a jerk.” You lift your head to look at him and you see him open his mouth just to quickly shut it.

“I guess I made another mistake in loving you. I thought you’d be at least nicer.” You walk past him and slip on your shoes. You grab your purse and open the door.

Dante can’t move. He can’t comprehend any of this. He doesn’t know how it got so bad. But he doesn’t want you to leave. Not like this. Not when he lied to you.

“Hey come on wait-“ he steps closer to you reaching his hand out to grab your hand again.

You move your hand out of his reach, “Don’t touch me.”

“Wait I-“

You look at him solemnly, “This is goodbye Dante.” You then walk out and close the door behind you. Once you’re a couple feet away you sob harder and run back to your apartment.

This went worse than you ever could have imagined. You knew there was a possibility of him rejecting you but you never knew it would end like this. You two are definitely on opposite side of a cliff, with the biggest ravine between you.

Dante begs for you to open the door again and come back. He stands and watches hopelessly. He knows you’re not going to and he’s stupid for thinking that it’s even possible.

Why did he yell at you? Why in the actual fuck would he yell at his favorite person in the whole world? Why would he yell at the woman he loves?

Dante knows why he was so quick to say no though. Everyone he’s ever loved has died or been in some kind of pain because of him. He can’t put you through that and he can’t put himself through losing someone else he loves. You told him he was super strong but he feels so weak now. He feels weak because he broke everything between you two.

His necklace starts to feel oddly heavy around his neck, great his mom is mad at him too. He grabs the necklace and looks up, “I am going to fix this mom. I’m not going to let her get away.” He promises.

While you’re running back to your apartment you run into someone. You mentally curse yourself because now you’re going to be in an awkward situation. Before you can apologize you hear two people call out your name.

You recognized those voice. Shit you gotta run. You try to get around them and mumble a sorry but your hand is suddenly grabbed.

“Why are you running from us?” Trish asked.

You turn to look at them and they freeze at your tear stained face. You hide your face and try to stop the tears. But your broken heart won’t let you. Lady looks at Trish and they silently agree to get you back to your apartment.

They walk you back while you silently cry. Lady takes your purse and grabs your keys from it to unlock your door. Once you’re inside they guide you to the couch.

You finally calm down enough to where you’re not completely sobbing. But still have some stray tears rolling down your face.

Lady now speaks up, “Okay what in the hell happened?” Trish smacks her arm. “Ow what was that for?”

Trish only glares at her, “Let her go on her own time.”

“It’s fine.” You cut the arguing duo off. You tell them what happened and you have to hold them down.

“Oh I’m going to fucking kill him. Shoot him right between the eyes,” Lady growls.

“I’m right behind you girl. Let’s go.”

“Wait stop! Just leave it. It’s already so messy between us and I don’t want the rift to grow even bigger.”

Lady rolls her eyes and questions, “How can you defend him after this? He was a total douche to you.”

“I’m not defending him. I don’t even know if I could do that. What he said hurt me more than anything ever has. But I don’t want to completely burn our bridges. He’s good at what he does and that’s helped me many times.”

Trish sighs knowing you making a good argument. But she isn’t just going to sit around and let you be upset.

“How about this, tomorrow we all go out! I’ll invite some drinking friends and we can relax together. We gotta get your mind off of this.”

“Sounds good to me,” you respond. It actually sounds awful but you know they are going to drag you out no matter what you say. So it’s better to agree than disagree and make another argument happen.

•

A couple weeks have gone by since your big argument with Dante. You two have spoken a word to each other and haven’t seen each other since. You went out with Lady and Trish the next night and it was hell.

Most of the people Trish invited were guys so they were trying to hit on you and it made you feel uneasy. One guy was really persistent though.

His name was Jackson. He was kinda nice and okay to look at. He wasn’t funny, he didn’t like to dance, he wasn’t cocky, he wasn’t Dante. You shook your head at the thought. Dante is your standard now and you can’t even change it.

The going out for drink because quite common within the past few weeks which means you see Jackson more and more. Last night he asked you out on a date. The thought of that made you sick. You didn’t want to go out on a date with him. You’re still thinking about Dante.

You wonder how he’s doing. He’s been radio silent with Trish and Lady too. Maybe he knew they’d be on your side so he just kept to himself for now. You hope he’s okay. You hope he’s eating enough and getting enough sleep. You hope he’s taking care of himself during missions and resting properly after them.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and you look to see Jackson, “So is that a yes?”

Lady buts in and says yes for you. You give her a glare and she just shrugs it off. So much for no date.

Now you’re out shopping with Lady and Trish to get an outfit for the date tonight. They claimed you needed “a fresh new look for a fresh new start.” You hated every second of this. They kept handing you dress after dress to try on.

You ended up falling in love with one dress though. Of course it was red and of course it made you think of Dante. You tell them you want this dress and Trish eagerly buys it for you.

You three are walking out of the store that’s when you see him. The man you secretly have been yearning to see again. You can’t help yourself, you still love him. Even after what he said to you.

As if he senses eyes on him Dante turns and sees you three. He then quickly walks over to the group. Lady and Trish sees him approaching and goes to cover you. All he manages to get out is, “Hey.”

“Hello Dante.” Trish responds. The brave soul that’s going to go toe to toe with him.

“What are the three of you doing here?” He tries to look around the barrier they made to see you but they keep you blocked.

“We’re shopping for her date tonight. Now if you excuse us, we gotta go get her ready.”

“Date?” Dante stammers out not believing what Trish just said. She just nods and pushes you away.

Lady stays back and Dante looks at her, “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“No we aren’t. There’s some men out there that actually want her unlike you.”

“I WANT HER MORE THAN ANYTHING!” He snaps back.

“Then why yell at her like you did? Why say she means nothing to you?”

“Because I’m fucking afraid of losing her. The thought of it hurts so bad. I can take shots like nothing but she can’t. What if something happens to her because of me? I can’t live with that.”

“So you’d rather live without her?”

“No I want her right by my side.”

“You have to pick. You can’t say you want her then push her away. You also can expect to push her away and expect to have her.”

Lady starts to walk aways and looks over her shoulder, “She still talks and thinks about you all the time. She’s leaving at six for her date. If you want to fix this, stop her and apologize.” She then goes to catch up with you and Trish.

Dante stands there watching hopelessly again hoping you’d come back to him. But after Lady’s last comment there’s new fire that burns within him. He’s determined to get you back.

These past few weeks has been absolute hell for him. All he’s wanted to do is reach out to you. He can’t deal without your presence anymore. He misses how your laugh would fill up the quietness of Devil May Cry. He misses how the pillow on the couch you always slept on doesn’t smell like you anymore. He missing calling you and having you come over just to goof around with him.

He misses your beautiful self. He’s always thought you were eye catching. Your presence made him calm and happy. He needs you in his life again. He can’t go a minute without you anymore. Tonight he’s getting you back. He’s sure of it.

You finished getting ready and all you have to do is slip on your heels. You’re happy Lady and Trish left even though it kind of confused you. Lady whispered something in her ear and the two of them suddenly announced they are leaving. But it is peaceful because now you just get to think freely.

You slip on a pair of black heel and look at yourself in the mirror. You looked great, the red dress and heels really complement one another. You wonder what Dante would think of this dress. You shake your head trying to get the thought out. You finally got to see him today even though you didn’t get to talk to him. He looked exhausted, he must have just came from a mission.

You smack your hands against your cheeks to focus yourself. You’re going on a date with someone else tonight. You can at least be decent and not think about another man.

You hear a knock at your door and look at the clock. It’s 5:30 and you agreed to meet at the restaurant. So who on earth could be knocking?

You walk to the door and open it to be greeted with the man that hasn’t left your thoughts. You two stare at each other, waiting for the other to break the silence.

Dante swallows thickly and then murmurs, “Don’t go on the date.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“No Dante I don’t.”

“I can’t really say…”

You were happy to see him now you’re mad. You’ve had enough of this. He’s telling you not to go on the date and won’t tell you why. What is his goal here?

“Okay bye then.” You start to shut the door but he scrambles and stops you.

“Wait please don’t shut the door again. I have a feeling if it shuts again we are done.”

“What’s your goal here Dante? Are you trying to make me miserable?”

He pushes the door open so you two have no barrier between you two anymore. “Hell no. That’s honestly the last thing I want.”

“Funny, didn’t seem like you cared about that last time.”

“I know, I was a dick and shouldn’t have yelled at you. I regret it with every fiber of my being. Human and demonic side.”

“Dante, that doesn’t change what happened. You said I didn’t mean anything to you.”

“I didn’t mean it I promise. I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I wish I could take it all back because I regret it all. I want to punch myself for yelling at you but most of all I hate myself for lying to you.”

You gulp at his words. You think you know where this is going and you don’t know if he’s just going to say it or if he means it. “Dante, what do you mean?”

He steps forward and raises his hands to your cheeks. Seeing that you’re not stopping him, he rests them on your cheeks. He swipes his thumbs back and forth against trying to soothe you.

“I love you. I’ve always had.”

You bite your lip and close your eyes. You are taken back to when he said he saw you as nothing more than a work friend. That you meant nothing more to him. You hear that replaying in your head over and over again.

“You said I was nothing more to you than a work friend.”

You feel him flinch and him whisper, “I know.”

“You yelled at me and said I ruined everything.”

“I know.”

“You said you weren’t interested in me.”

“I know.”

“But Dante the funny thing is even after all that, I don’t hate you. I still am in love with you.”

He sighs and hangs his in relief. “Fuck I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it all up to you. I’ll take care of you and protect you. I’ll treasure your love till the day I die. Please give me the chance to make it right.”

“I trust you Dante but you only get one chance. Don’t waste it.”

“I’m not going to fucking waste a second more.”

He dips down to connects your lips. It’s as if a switch has gone off and made everything right again. This kiss feels so perfect and warm. It’s passionate and loving, like Dante is trying to confess even more than he has.

You two break apart and you look to see your lipstick smudged on his lips. You laugh at the look. You raised your hand to his lips and wipe off the lipstick.

“Heyyyy don’t do that I wanna walk around with that.”

“You’re fine. But now I gotta cancel the date. Great Trish is going to be mad the dress didn’t get its use.”

You start to walk away but Dante pulls you back into his embrace. Your back is against his chest and he leans down and whispers into your ear, “Nah you’re going to be a no show baby, no more talking to that guy. But I’m going to take you out because I’m not wasting this sight. You look so fucking hot in red.”

@fashionloverr846

[hoonieyun]

from the killer's eyes

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader x park sunghoon

warnings: slasher horror movie themes, mentions of death and murder, blood, true crime obsession, psychopathic behavior, possessive and obsessive behavior, violence and horror, profanity, 18+ not proofread

wc: 3143

heeseung looked at you and jay with a certain type of joy. not the type of joy that would spread across the face of a friend seeing you after a long time, happy to spend time with you and to cherish that moment– no. it was a type of joy that was laced with something sinister. like he had been waiting for this moment specifically, standing about you and jay, a sick smile on his face while the hunter’s knife reflects the light coming from the moon. 

it was something straight out of a horror movie. the unsuspecting new friend in town who just miraculously turns out to be the person behind all of the terror and slashings that has plagued you and your friends for the last few months. a part of you didn’t want to believe heeseung, he seemed innocent but maybe that was your own fault. you never really got to know him and maybe if you had been a little more open to truly become his friend then maybe he wouldn’t have done all of this. 

but considering his sick and sadistic words rang throughout the room and how excited he seemed to carry out all of these murders; you doubt that being his friend would’ve stopped any of this. 

“how’d you do it..” you asked, cutting him off mid-sentence as he was talking about the different ways he was considering killing you and jay. you had tuned him out at some point as you ran through the different things floating in your mind. was escape a possibility? should you and jay fight back? or should you just accept your fate.. 

heeseung stops his tangent to look at you, his eyes widening at your question as he gets prepared to tell you his antics. eagerness pours from him at the thought of sharing the horrors of his mind with you in full detail on how he killed your friends– taking a break from going over the details of how he plans to kill you and jay in the meanwhile. 

“well, you see.. it took a lot of planning. we- i, had to study you very close, yn. you’re not an easy person to find since you’re pretty private but a little tiktok of you and sunghoon popped up one time and it was like fate.. 

i’d found you and i found a way to get to you. your boyfriend.”  heeseung says, twiddling with the knife in his hands. he walks back and forth before continuing. 

“wonyoung.. she was pretty; it's sad she had to go but i needed to make a statement. i knew that night was perfect and because i was ‘trashed’ and you guys thought i had passed out somewhere, that was the perfect time to do it. 

we knew she already didn’t want to go to that party and it wasn’t for the reasons she told you guys. whatever it was she said, it doesn’t matter because it was just a lie. wonyoung was the first one to get one of our little texts. i told her that if she came to the party that night that i’d expose her.

did you know daddy’s money got her into the school? i mean wonyoung was smart but with a little push from daddy’s checkbook, she somehow got put at the top of the academic list as a freshman. something no freshman has ever done in all of decelis history. 

imagine how shocked everyone would be to know that decelis’ star student, jang wonyoung, had to bribe her way into the top of the school– not just our graduating class, but the whole school.

embarrassing” he says with a sing-song like tone. 

a small smirk is on heeseung lips as he ponders on that for a moment. jay was stiff as a log next to you and every now and then you’d send him a glance to make sure he was fine but also to see if he was catching onto the things heeseung was saying that you were catching onto. 

“then, there was your brother.” heeseung says, plopping down on one of the chairs in the living room. “you know i would’ve thought he’d be a little more like you, yn. you’re smart and have a natural instinct for survival. intak, however… not so much. 

he was pretty easy to kill. i mean, he practically walked into his own death.” 

heeseung’s words struck something inside of you as you lunged upwards and onto your feet. anger in your eyes as you grit your teeth at him, jay immediately stands next to you. putting an arm in front of you to stop you from getting any closer to the deranged murderer in front of the both of you. 

you and jay weren’t particularly the closest but because he was sunghoon’s twin, you spent a lot of time together. 

before all of this went down, jay and sunghoon had a conversation about you. he had asked jay to protect you no matter what. he knew it was asking a lot of jay to protect you but he said that god forbid something were to happen to sunghoon, he wished for jay to protect you if he wasn’t there. 

jay and sunghoon have a bond only twin siblings have and because he knew how sunghoon felt for you, he made sure to keep his word. telling sunghoon, “sure, but that won’t happen because i’d probably die before you anyway..” his responses was a bit morbid but the two of them laughed it off. 

and here you are now. 

jay protecting you just as he promised his twin brother who has been missing for the better part of the night. he could only hope that sunghoon managed to escape and get help somehow, but a part of him knew that wasn’t true. 

when heeseung notices you jump up from your cowardly position, he’s instantly standing, pointing his blade towards you with a teasing but threatening smile. “uh uh, not so fast. we haven’t even got to the good part.” heeseung says, gesturing his knife downwards like he was motioning for you and jay to sit back down– to which you did. 

“where was i.. ah, right. well, poor little intak got one of the texts. all it took was some threats about how i’d kill you and if he didn’t want that to happen to meet me at the dance studio at a specific time. honestly i thought it wasn’t going to work because it was just an empty threat, i wasn’t planning on killing you. 

not yet, at least. 

but to my surprise, intak showed up… and i couldn’t have been more happy to see his face run pale as he met his demise. i even showed myself to him for fun because it’s a little more fun to kill someone when they know who did it.” 

a chuckle at the end of his sentence has you tightening your jaw and just as you’re about to lunge forward again, jay grabs onto your wrist to prevent you from doing something stupid. you look at him with an aggravated expression but all he does is shake his head. you blink several times before averting your gaze back to heeseung. 

“we told him that if he didn’t distance himself from you then we’d kill you. we leveraged his love for his older sister to isolate him from you so it was a lot easier to get to him.” 

“fuck you!” you spat at him and it only amused heeseung. like he was watching a small dog bark at a bigger dog as if you could do anything in this situation. 

“one question..” jay speaks up for the first time in a while, both you and heeseung glance over to him. an arched brow on heeseung’s face at his words. 

“who is.. ‘we’?” 

you had realized during heeseung’s stories that he often used the word “we” when he was talking about how he did everything and you were glad that jay had caught onto that but it only sent shivers down your spine knowing that the possibility of heeseung have an accomplice of some sort was becoming more and more of a real thing instead of a theory. 

“what? you don’t think i could fucking do all of this myself?!” heeseung’s voice booms throughout the room and it causes you and jay to flinch, afraid that jay’s question might’ve ticked him off to the point where he’d just gut the two of you right then and there. 

but he didn’t.

“fine.. i didn’t do this all by myself. i had a friend.” heeseung says, the same sinister smile back on his lips and as if on cue; a dark, hooded, and shadowy figure emerges from the hall behind heeseung. the person was wearing clothes similar to heeseung, a cloak of sorts that allowed them to blend into the shadows and darkness of the night. a dark piece of fabric shrouds their face to hide their identity. 

your blood runs cold as you see the person. a second killer was tormenting all of you this whole time and you had no clue. your hope of using your number advantage against heeseung was now an even playing field, if you could even call it that since you and jay had nothing to go for yourselves and the killers had knives that have met the blood of your friends. 

“i wish i could’ve done this all by myself, it would’ve been a cooler story but i had to enlist the help of a good friend of mine. remember that little tiktok of yours that i saw which led me to finding you.?” heeseung said tauntingly. 

“sunghoon?” you ask, looking over to the other person standing beside heeseung. your heartbeat was starting to pick up at the thought of your boyfriend being the other person behind all of the murders. you trusted him, there was no way it could be him, right? 

a chuckle emerges from the person as their hand reaches over the fabric and in one swift movement, when the dark cloth is pulled away, it reveals, “jake?” you gasp, eyes widen and mouth ajar at the sight of your best friend who you thought was killed all those weeks ago. 

“what the fuck, man?” jay says, shock surging through the both of you at the big reveal. he smiles at you and waves his fingers, “hey, pretty girl.” he says, smiling at you like it was some big reunion to be happy about when in reality, seeing jake like this was a lot harder than having to see him lifeless in a casket. 

you tried to muster up some words to ask him why but you were in so much shock that nothing managed to come out of your lips. “bet you have a lot of questions, huh?” jake asks and you don’t respond. anger was an understatement. seeing your best friend alive and well was a different thing. you had already mourned him and the idea of mourning someone who not only was alive but also the reason you’ve had to mourn so many people made you feel sick. 

“i’ll tell you what, pretty girl- don’t patronize me!” you scoff, interrupting him as he speaks to you as if everything was fine. you could barely recognize jake, he looked the same, maybe even more muscular than the last time you saw him but he had a different air around him. a type of aura that makes your skin crawl and your throat dry. 

“calm down. wouldn’t wanna hurt yourself, now do we?” he teases and it made you feel even angrier that he was so nonchalant about this. like it was just some game and he wasn’t taking anything seriously. “let me tell you all about it, i’m sure you’re curious in that pretty little head of yours.. 

it’s no surprise that i didn’t like your boyfriend. it pissed me off that he had all your attention, he practically fucking stole you from me. i’ve loved you for so long and when i was finally ready to tell you how i feel, you just had to fucking introduce me to that fucker..” he says, using the dull end of his blade to scratch his head. 

“that’s my brother you’re talking about, you fucker!” jay yells and now it was your turn to pull him back to stop him from doing something that could end drastically. 

“cut the shit, jay. you’re lucky to even be alive right now, so back the fuck up or else i’ll finish off what i should’ve done in the hospital.” jay didn’t want to budge but he ultimately lets you pull him back into the small corner of the living room. a somewhat safe space for you both as if it provided any actual safety. 

“i fucking loved you, yn.. i still do and i just needed to get rid of sunghoon for you to realize that you love me too. i can tell you about all the things i’ve done to bring us closer but you’ve seen it all first hand. 

i did all of this. for you. i love you, yn.” jake says, adoration in his eyes as he explains himself– the idea of your friends being brutally murdered all for the sake of jake’s love for you made you want to vomit. 

“jake and i came up with the perfect plan. he’d get the girl and i’d get my perfect true crime story. it’s everything we’ve dreamed of!” heeseung says, a crazed look in his eyes like he was getting closer to the climax of the story. the way he began to start fidgeting with his knife made you feel unsettled, like he was revving his engine to continue the carnage so you mentally prepared yourself for what was to come. 

“we decided that i’d fake my death so it was easier for me to kill everyone and not have heeseung get caught so that whenever i killed someone, he would have an alibi. i killed karina, sorry by the way, i was the one who attacked jay and then you, after, at the hospital. 

don’t worry, my love. i wasn’t going to kill you; just a little bit of a scare, ok?” he says, as if that was going to make it any better. 

as he’s running through his explanation all you could think of was the fact that sunghoon was probably long gone. jake or heeseung probably got to him at some point in the night and you aren’t even going to be able to see him one last time before jake or heeseung takes your life like they did everyone else. 

“the plan was to emerge as the hero, i’d actually been alive this whole time and was just held hostage. i’d save you from heeseung and he’d be immortalized as the decelis killer and everyone would know his name while you and me, the best friends turned lovers would survive and live a long and happy life together. we’d be forever bonded by bloodshed.. 

the cherry on top? well..” he says, while walking over to one of the closests in the hall. a thud and muffled groans can be heard as jake drags a body over, holding him upright onto his knees while placing the knife to his neck. 

a sob breaks from your lips at the sight of sunghoon. he was bruised and beaten, darkness on his skin surrounding his eyes and forehead. he was tied up and had a gag in his mouth. “say hi to your little boyfriend, yn.” jake says. 

“i was going to kill sunghoon here and frame him for the murders too. heeseung would corroborate the story and say they were working together the whole time but… i knew that you’d never love me the way you love sunghoon so we had to make a little adjustment. 

heeseung would still take the blame for all of this but i’d still be the hero. emerging from all of the murders to be able to tell the tale as i escaped from being held hostage to save my friends and the girl i loved from the crazed killers, only to be too little too late.” 

jake swallows, standing upright with his knife still slightly pressing into the skin of sunghoon’s neck. “so that means i’ve gotta kill you too. you understand right, my love?” 

this sentence alone seems to set off everyone in the room as you erupt with anger, “fuck you!” you shout and in the same moment, jake winds his arm to slice sunghoon but he manages to shove jake enough so that the blade misses his neck and lands on his shoulder instead. he falls over with a thud and tears begin to line your eyes. “run..” sunghoon whispers and although you don't want to leave him, you grab jay’s arm and use the moment of chaos as a distraction to try and make a run for it. 

your hand loses jay at some point while trying to shove past heeseung and jake, separating the two of you. you find yourself running away from jake who was hot on your trail as you run through the house. each door you tried was locked, unable to find a place to hide and come up with a plan; you decide to stop running and face him. jake stands several feet away at the end of the hall. your eyes momentarily avert to the stairway just a few feet away. 

“stop running, yn. just face it, this is meant to be. you’ll die by my hand and even though i’d rather live a happy life with you. this has to happen and it will.” jake says, sliding his knife on the wall as he saunters closer to you. 

you swallow the dryness in your throat before making your move.  

“come and get me, fucker.” you say before quickly switching the light off in the hallway and running towards the stairwell. it leaves jake stunned for a moment as he didn’t expect that but he’s quick to react and after hearing your footsteps make their way up the stairs, he’s fast on your trail again and chasing you to the upper level of the house. 

unfortunately for you, jake knew the ins and outs of this house as he was the one who found it and presented it to heeseung when everyone was looking for a new place to live. the hunt was on and jake was going to find you sooner or later. no matter where you hid, he’d find you so you needed to buy some time by running and stalling to come up with a plan. 

“you can run all you want, sweetheart. i’ll get you eventually.” 

back - masterlist - next

killer's journal: shocked? i bet you are.. you know what they say, love can make you do crazy things. and my love for yn wasn't even the craziest thing inside of me. heeseung loved the thrill and was obsessed with the kill, me? jake? i was obsessed with yn. and i'd do anything to make her mine. -sjy

hoonieyun notes: ahhh first chapter back after being gone a for a few months.. sorry again for disappearing but thank u for staying with me and waiting!! i'll be finishing do you trust me? and is he mr right? and starting a new story later in the spring. thank you!!! please enjoy the rest of this series :3

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

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[meowcats734]

The contest’s judge was lithe, feline, winged, and easily twice as tall as Ana and Peheri. They towered over the two human-sized competitors as they slinked out from the ceiling, settling in a dignified, seated position near the center of the room.

The show’s commentator wolf-whistled at her. “Wowie. Are there more of you at home?” Shrimp Sex—still hated that damn name—called out from the room’s microphone. The sphinx flicked one ear but showed no other sign of so much as paying attention to Shrimp Sex, which earned a flicker of genuine anger from the devil.

“Oaths,” the sphinx stated. “Grant them to me.”

“Ugh, buzzkill.” Shrimp Sex fiddled around with a sheaf of papers upon which the most horrendously, ostentatiously lazy handwriting I had ever seen was scrawled in thick black ink. “Peheri! On behalf of the Swifthealer hospital, do you swear to provide surgery and medical care for Anachel to reshape her body into the form she desires if she stands victorious at the end of this contest?”

“I swear,” Pahari said, his cloth lips smiling placidly.

“Anachel! On behalf of Anachel Anachel—that’s you—do you swear to drop all conviction against the Swifthealer hospital now and forevermore if Peheri stands victorious at the end of this contest?”

Ana’s cool, unfocused eyes met that of the golem standing opposite her, and she nodded. “I swear.”

“Contestants! Do you swear to make cuts matching that which the opponent makes on their own bodies, and accept that failure to remain within your designated area will result in your immediate forfeit of the contest?”

“We swear,” Ana and Peheri said in unison.

The sphinx spread their wings, casting both contestants in shadow. “I, Enm Cu’Domal, in my capacity as definer, hold you to your words in the spirit of which they were made.”

“Great! Fucking finally.” On my phone’s screen, Shrimp Sex launched himself from his lazy lounge into a hunched-over, vaguely upright position. The motion scattered the papers that he hadn’t so much as looked at, his grinning face parting the cloud of papers like a magician through curtains. I’d give him this much: he may have been a turd, but he was a decently polished one. “I’m gonna throw some knives at your faces now, so get ready to catch.”

Despite Shrimp Sex’s flippant tone, the standard-issue tripartite blades materialized placidly within each circle at Ana and Peheri’s feet. Runes sparked off the handles for a moment as the teleportation spell faded. Odds were the spell was losing efficiency due to the proximity of three spectives. 

“Now, I’m legally obliged to give you one last chance to talk things out like rational citizens and blah blah blah boring. Tell me when we can get on with the show, I’ve got my dailies to match.” Shrimp Sex kicked his heels up, pulling out his phone, as Peheri and Ana stared each other down.

“Believe it or not,” Peheri quietly said, “we are trying to help you. Harming yourself like this will achieve nothing.”

I wasn’t sure if Peheri was referring to the surgeries to remove the growths on Ana’s body or the medic’s duel itself. Either way, it would be solved if the damn hospital just did their fucking job and gave Ana her body back. I wanted to burst in there, to shout Pahari down, but I took a second look at Ana’s expression.

She hadn’t so much as twitched in reaction. Ana just watched Peheri, a loose, leonine readiness behind those calm, dark eyes. Ana didn’t need me to defend her, not this time. All she had to do now was endure and keep a steady hand, and she was the best in the world I knew at both. 

“Alright, you guys done?” Shrimp Sex waited a beat, then continued. “Defender goes first. And remember.” The camera zoomed in on the two little circles around Ana and Peheri’s feet. “Last one to leave their circle loses.”

Peheri hesitated, then sighed. “This is going to hurt you a lot more than it hurts me,” he said, picking up the three-colored knife. With a single swipe, he opened up the palm of his hand, cotton stuffing spilling out.

“And the defender goes for a classic!” Shrimp Sex crowed—fucking hell, couldn’t the devil have chosen literally any other name? “Challenger, don’t be shy now. Show us what’s under your skin.”

“You’ll have permanent damage,” Peheri insisted. He sewed up the cut on his palm with his other hand, and though the movement in the golem’s left palm was stiffer now, he showed no signs of being more than inconvenienced. “Drop your claim. For your own sake.”

Ana did not justify herself. She gave no explanation to the jeering announcer or the sickeningly condescending medic. She just held the blade and mimicked Peheri’s stroke, cutting her own palm open as well. She glanced at Enm, whose black quartz muzzle dipped once in acknowledgement. The cut was a valid one.

“Humans and spectives, we’ve got a game!” Shrimp Sex whooped. My fist clenched around the phone. Ana deftly bandaged her wounded hand, the golden-amber sap trickling out from her barklike skin. She met Peheri’s eyes and took out a roll of cotton, meticulously stuffing it in between her teeth, and an absurd memory of the last time we’d fucked flashed through the back of my mind. Ana pressed the tip of the tripartite knife to one of the blossoms growing out of her skin, and Peheri’s eyes widened slightly.

Then she cut the blossom off.

“Oooh!” Fucking hell, was the devil getting off on this? Shrimp Sex wolf-whistled as Ana bit down on the cotton, hard, and muffled a scream. But still she stood, her will unbroken, as she wrapped another bandage around her now-trembling forearm. “Holy shit, that has got to be the dumbest play I’ve seen this week.”

Peheri glanced at Enm, concern wrinkling his brow. “Do I… what’s the protocol when I don’t, ah, have the body part she’s cutting?”

“You will cut through the analogous space. Two centimeters above the midpoint of your left forearm.”

Peheri frowned at Ana, who met his gaze with eyes still sharp despite the pain. Perfunctorily, the golem moved the knife through the air around his arm, a rough match for Ana’s cut. Enm nodded once more, validating the move. “Why would…”

And even if Peheri didn’t understand, I did. It was a statement, not to Shrimp Sex or Swifthealers hospital, but to everyone watching the devil’s broadcast. Ana didn’t care about winning or losing, or hurting her enemies. She just wanted the flowers piercing through her skin gone, even if she had to rip them out one by one.

She hated speaking, but she communicated just as well through other means.

Something seemed to click behind Peheri’s eyes, and he reversed his grip on the knife, holding it over the tip of his chest. “You can’t win here,” he said, slightly baffled. “I gave you a chance to back out. Just remember that.”

Then Peheri plunged the blade straight into his chest.

There were no internal organs, no critical machinery of life to protect. Just white cotton that spilled out, and though its loss did seem to weaken him, he ripped the blade back out and staggered drunkenly, sewing the gaping wound back shut. 

I closed my eyes as Shrimp Sex crowed, reveling in the violence. I’d known that the Swifthealers wouldn’t play anything remotely close to fair, not when they got to choose the method of conviction. But there was a difference between anticipating foul play and seeing the Swifthealer defendant rip through the space where their heart should have been and more or less shrug it off. Peheri didn’t smile, but his shoulders sagged with the relief that one got after finishing hard labor, or finally finishing a particularly deep clean. He waited for Ana to concede, to drop the knife or step free from the circle.

Ana exhaled, tilting her wounded arm from side to side. Judging her capabilities, seeing if she was ready for what came next. Peheri took a step forward, stopped before he left the circle.

Then Ana pulled her trunk into the circle, and I heard a lifetime’s worth of artifacts rattle around within.

A.N.

This is part of a longer story, check out the rest below if you liked this one!

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[avifaunaa]

Keep Me Waiting [ Anticipating ] [ r.v. ]

Authors Note: The fic to finally answer a long ago ask. Sorry it took so long Anon.

Masterlist

Pairing: Rio Vidal x fem!reader

Summary: Rio’s been busy saving the world and catching the worst of the worst: that’s what happens when your wife is an FBI agent. But you start acting like a brat for attention, and she finally gives you what you want — and then some.

Content Warnings: brief angst / marital arguments, reader is given pretty feminine descriptors in how she/they dress in this, some FBI jargon from Criminal Minds [ so, I know absolutely nothing as per usual ], a case of Rio's is mentioned in some detail and involves children so take care -- i do not get explicit, but i do give context as to explain Rio's mood

Smut Wise: a lot of filth — dom/sub dynamics, pet names [ babygirl, little girl, brat -> r, sir, daddy -> rio ], Brat!R, Brat Tamer!Rio, phone sex / masturbation [ r ], coming without permission, teasing / edging [ r ], vibrator [ Rio -> R ], kitchen sex, orgasm delay / denial [ r ], multiple orgasms, squirting, degradation, praise kink [ r ], aftercare

Word Count: TBA

Rio was called in on another case less than 24 hours after returning to your shared Quantico home while you were both getting ready for your reservation at Per Se in New York City four hours away, a restaurant she'd been begging to take you to for months before you finally broke and agreed to and then when she did get a reservation, it was another six months before the two of you could get in.

You were putting in your hooped gold earrings when the call came in. Rio got calls all the time -- sometimes they did not require her to come in due to her position on her profiler team and her rank, but not long after she answered with a firm, "Vidal," her face contorted into the form you'd only seen her use for work.

Followed by her leaving the room altogether. That was never a good sign and you waited ten minutes before removing the earrings and reentering your bathroom to start removing the makeup, trying to ignore the jab in your chest at the realization at what was about to happen.

She returned to you with her hands in her suit pockets just as you had applied your moisturizer and pulled silk shorts up your hips. Her features softened at what you could not mask on your face and she reached out to wrap her arms around her waist.

"I'm sorry, babygirl," she said quietly as she pulled you close in an effort to comfort you, fingers coming to slide under the tank top you'd slipped on. Cool fingers circled small designs on your lower spine.

You did not meet her eyes as you tucked your chin into her chest, inhaling the scent of her musky cologne and remaining smell of shampoo from her shower. "'s'fine."

"Do not mumble, baby." The other hand removed itself from around you to gently take your chin in hand. You resisted her hold, wanting to keep in her warmth. "Look at me, please."

You clenched your jaw under her fingers hard enough for her to feel your displeasure, but after a few seconds you did slowly lift your gaze to hers and allow her hand to lift your chin so your face was directly mirroring her own.

She was beautiful and immaculate -- she always was. She had initially let her hair down for the night but it seemed she had put it up in her tight bun during the phone call that would take her away from you again.

"I'm sorry," Rio said, voice low and honest. You glanced at her face and did take note she seemed forlorn about the situation but unrelenting in her dedication to her job. "I will reschedule the reservation on the way in and we can plan something else when I get home."

"We had this planned months out, Rio," you said, unable to keep the bite back from your tone. Right now you weren't talking to your domme, you were talking to your wife and partner -- who you'd been promised to have fully for one night with no interruptions of work or otherwise.

"I know but we agreed that me taking the promotion would mean I don't always get guaranteed days off." She tried to brush her thumb along your cheek bone, but you pulled away from her touch and padded into the bedroom.

She was right. It was a decision you both had sat down together to discuss over -- the pros and the cons of Rio's rising position in the agency she had dedicated her career life to.

At first it had seemed fine. She was home less anyways and she had promised she would make paid vacation time every three months just so that quality time was assured. It was working and you were able to buy your first house together in the process.

But her workload increased and she was in charge of a team of people, away on cases that took her energy and soul. She came home tired and cried more.

Instead of confessing your bubbling emotions to Rio, you swallowed them down into the pit of your stomach and played with the wedding ring on your finger as you snatched the tablet off your nightstand.

"Fine Rio. Be safe, love you."

It was a dismissal -- one you never expressed to the raven-haired woman in such a way. She followed you as you to the living room. "Babygirl," she started, an infliction of warning starting to form, but her phone rang in her pocket again.

"Don't you have a case to solve, Agent Vidal?" you asked her coolly as you lay the throw blanket across your lap on the couch, ignoring her as she rushed to gather her work bags.

"We'll talk when I get home," Rio said, a promise that you chose to ignore despite the pit in your stomach telling you not to. She kissed your head and expressed her love before leaving you in an empty house.

Wine, a cheap cheese and meat board, and social media kept you company that night instead of Rio sitting across from you at one of New York's finest restaurants.

Your temper had cooled considerably by the time Rio called 48 or so hours into the case. You were still hurt and you knew a conversation was coming, but you weren't fuming anymore.

She sounded tired as she spoke to you from her hotel room in Chicago, Illinois. She couldn't discuss much about the case other than it involved children -- a spot that was more sore for her than you knew.

You spoke as she ate her dinner and she asked how your clients were -- launching you into a rampage about how none of them should truly bother to hire a social media manager if they don't want to accept the brand deals that have fair offers when all your clients want is free.

A lot of your ranting was for Rio's sake, and both of you knew it. She needed her mind to be quieted so you did as best you could. When you ran out of material to work with, though, silence fell save for the television in the background from Rio's end.

"We should discuss what was said the other day, Mrs. Vidal," Rio started, dropping her tone an octave and foregoing her vulnerability for the domme persona she took a secondary comfort in.

You ran a finger down the lace trimming of your sheer slip. "Mm, you said we'd discuss it when we got back -- there were no agreements to talking about it beforehand. So . . ." you trailed off purposefully, knowing how riled she gets when you do not finish your sentences.

The receiver rattled as Rio's hand tightened around her cell phone and her breath dropped into the microphone. You smiled at yourself as you lifted the shift up your thighs slightly so she could hear the ruffle of it; she knew your lingerie based on the sound alone.

"So we're playing this game, huh?" Rio mused in a barely controlled question. The television was turned off. "Fine. Go to our room. Now."

You snorted, "Why should I? You don't listen to me when I want something." A fingernail left a soft whine line as you traced it up your skin, and your teeth dug into your bottom lip.

A laugh was your initial response. "Okay."

Then your phone started buzzing. You turned it slightly and saw Rio's call was on hold as she FaceTimed you.

You debated ignoring it and letting it go unanswered just to further piss her off but knew you had built up enough trouble so you answered it just before it dropped.

Rio's arched eyebrow and unimpressed expression greeted you on the other end of the screen. She was sat at the small table in her hotel room, jacket off and white shirt halfway unbuttoned with her suspenders still on.

Just the way you liked her.

"You have no idea just what you're getting yourself into, little girl," your wife warned you as she leaned back in her chair and stared at you with a set jaw.

"Something, something I'm terrified," you replied nonchalantly, allowing just the tips of your lips to curve upward in a way that would drive her absolutely crazy.

Your core was already on fire with nerves and need; pushing Rio when she couldn't do a damn thing about it was one of your rare past-times and you never did it when she expected it to happen.

You wore her favorite set, prepared your attitude, and had kept the panties off for this very reason; and when she came home she would have no choice but to pay attention to you.

Rio's nostrils flared and the way her pupils dilated in front of you had you clenching around nothing. "You're forgetting your fucking place, aren't you? Daddy leaves to make sure we're comfortable and taken care of and you throw a tantrum like the little girl you are."

You slid your hand down to your chest and revealed your breasts to her, brushing your fingers along your nipple. "I was mad," you agreed easily, to her surprise, "because you cancelled the nice date we had planned in advance followed by the nice, hard fuck you promised me after."

Rio spread her legs a little more in front of you and pursed her lips. "I promised to make it up to you tenfold when I came home, didn't I? I just need you to be a good girl."

The words sparked that little submissive kernel in you that confirmed in your brain that play was happening and you smirked at her slowly.

She studied you for a moment, fingers tapping along the arm rest. "Color, babygirl?"

"Oh, it's green," you purred as you angled your camera so it was facing your thighs and the hand that was underneath the slip.

"Absolutely not." Daddy was out, tone firm and harsh. Your hand twitched in place just above your clit as she spoke her command. "You're behaving real fucking dumb right now, aren't you?"

"I deserve an orgasm," you answered, hand starting up again. She did not stop you -- either out of shock or curiosity of what your plan was -- but she did lift a half-drank beer to watch as your fingers came into contact with your cunt.

You made your gasps sweet and just desperate enough that she enjoyed it. Her eyes were darkened as she took a swig of her beer and watched your hand making movements under the shift.

She slammed the beer down that revealed a small loss of her careful control. "Remove the damn thing. Let Daddy see you disobey her order, yeah?"

This you did decide to obey, slowly. You let your fingers show the gleam of your wetness that you wipe on your thigh.

You set your phone so it rested against a decoration on your too expensive coffee table and made sure that Rio could see you well enough as you began removing the slip. The straps had already fallen down your shoulders from when you'd exposed your tits to her.

She played with the rim of the beer bottle and watched with no commentary to provide, brewing in silence and dominance she had nowhere to put with her being hundreds of miles away for the moment.

"At least you can follow some fucking orders," Rio snorted once the shift was on the floor and you were naked, pussy exposed to her. "Daddy has rules, babygirl. No touching yourself unless given permission beforehand when she leaves. You've been doing so well up until tonight, why ruin it, huh?"

"This is your fault," you said simply as you dipped your fingers back into your wetness without her okay, gathering some of it up before going to your clit to make some circles.

Your body went lax against the even more expensive cushions, your throat releasing a sound of pleasure.

"My fault," Rio echoed darkly, drowned by the squelching sound of you touching yourself in front of her. "If you stop now and clean yourself up, little girl, I may not be as hard on you," she warns.

You gasped as you clenched, stomach muscles twitching as you slid your fingers downward slowly and instead inserted them inside of your aching cunt while your thumb replaced their spot on your clit.

"F-feels to good," you slurred, too far gone to stop and willing to take whatever comes later. You already pushed her beyond return from a punishment -- might as well get yourself an orgasm from it. "Daddy my fingers aren't as long, wish it were you instead."

A cold laugh answered you, "The way you're behaving, brat, my fingers would not be in you. No, you don't deserve my fingers or my cock. Little whores like you should be strapped to a vibrator and forced to learn their lesson."

The mere thought had your hips grinding into your fingers upwards, seeking out that spongy spot in your inner walls. Rio made a noise, as if startled by the reaction you had.

"Little whore likes that does she?" Rio drawls in a higher voice as your noises became louder the closer to your peak you got. "You don't deserve to cum for Daddy like a good girl, so how about you cum for Daddy like the slut you are since you can't follow my orders?"

You let out a cry as your clit throbbed against your thumb and you tightened around your fingers, the orgasm rushing through you. Your ears filled with your heartbeat and you bubbled out sounds and words that made no sense as she talked you through the orgasm.

When it eventually tapered off and you slumped back down onto the couch, fingers still stuffed where they were, you took in a large gulp of breath. "Fuck."

Rio laughed lightly and you lifted your neck awkwardly. She looked disheveled but her pants were still buttoned, her cheeks flushed.

She had an amused glitter in her eye as she said, "You're in so much trouble."

You stick your tongue out as you removed your fingers from your heat and cleaned your fingers. "Aftercare," the raven-haired woman ordered then, no nonsense. "C'mon, get up."

Even this far apart she had an aftercare plan and a kit set up for you when you played from a distance. It was crucial even when it was as small as phone sex with a side of dirty talk; she did not fuck with either of your mental wellbeings' in terms of play.

You took the phone and discarded slip from the floor and made a shaky trek to your bedroom, chatting with Rio quietly. She had softened her tone from "mean" Daddy to "aftercare" Daddy, and the two were incredibly different.

You start the bath with your favorite bath bomb and pour a glass of wine specifically saved for aftercare and other special occasions.

"I have some of those chocolate strawberries in the freezer. Sugar and food to go with the wine, please," your wife added as you set the tray of wine and your tablet above the tub.

"Yes, Daddy," you answer demurely as you walk away from the phone to go get the item she wanted.

"Now you listen to what I tell you," you hear her muttering as you leave.

Rio's communication was less available after the scene -- she was so tired by the time she was able to make a call to you and you did not push her to do or say more than she offered, not with that haunted look that lingered in her eyes.

She seemed a little lighter on the day they caught the guy -- a convicted sex offender who had relapsed after fifteen years in prison and then five years of being released with no offense before just . . . snapping.

"They found . . . a lot of shit on his hard-drives," Rio told you that explained not only her exhaustion but the deep, bone-trying emotion she was forcing down.

Rio had lost her son to someone like this perp -- years ago. She had told you this story. Her ex-wife, Agatha, and Rio met at the young age of seventeen; during boarding school where, apparently, Agatha's ashamed parents had sent her during her fifth month of pregnancy.

There, the two had met and the rest was history.

When Nick was five years old he had gone missing. One week later they found his body. Rio and Agatha had never recovered from the loss and they had never caught the fucker, but it encouraged Rio to work into catching as many murderers as she could -- with an interest in behavior that only specialized teams could work on.

She did not talk much about it but she kept Nick in her wallet and on her desk both at home and at work. These cases were the hardest for Rio and the ones that left her with the most pent up, restless energy.

"He's going to rot, right?" you asked quietly as you watched her make sure she wasn't forgetting anything from her suitcase.

She glanced at you and it was brief, but you caught the glimmer of satisfaction that lit life back into her eyes, "Yeah. He's never getting out again."

Rio waited for the gates to the driveway to open, tired and damn near dozing off as the slowly moving iron-glad gates allowed her to pull in. She pressed the button again for them too close and arm, driving into the opening garage.

The lights were off and nothing was out of place, save maybe for the two sleek Dobermans asleep on the floor in the entry way. Wanda and Pietro were quiet but watchful -- and Rio's decision rather than yours -- when she got her promotion and her name became more public during profile releases to the press and document publishings.

She left the two where they were -- they'd follow and join her if they desired, Rio had long since stopped trying to scold you for encouraging their place in the bed -- and found you curled up in your shared bedroom, breathing evenly as you slept.

She dressed in sweats and a t-shirt before joining you in bed, leaving everything else for tomorrow and instead curling her body and arms around the one thing she found anchorage in.

She buried her nose in your neck and you made a soft noise as you cuddled backwards into her, knowing even in sleep your wife was holding you.

She did not take long to follow you into sleep, exhaustion from the last few days finally pulling her down into darkness.

You woke up to the grease and baking chocolate smell alerting you Rio was making her return home meal consisting of bacon, chocolate chip muffins, and probably some eggs to go along with it; that was the breakfast she went created from scratch every morning she returned back from a case.

You took a moment to stretch in the bed, your muscles popping in your back as sunlight filtered through the windows, curtains having been opened likely earlier in the morning.

If you didn’t get up on your own, she’d come get you and drag you out of bed in some loud and boisterous way. So you detangle yourself from the bedsheets and pad into the bathroom quietly.

After doing your business and brushing your teeth, you notice a disturbance in the usual setup on your side of the bathroom counter. Next to your sink was an all too familiar box with a piece of paper on top of it.

Let’s play. Don’t come. Be good.

— Daddy.

You set the piece of paper aside and met your own gaze in the mirror, heart thumping in your chest as the puzzle pieces clicked into place for you.

Today was going to be a very long day.

The vibrator egg was nestled in its silk cloth, waiting to be used. You sit on the toilet seat and hold the object in your hand, rolling it around and biting your lip.

She didn’t use this toy very often with you — she didn’t normally have the patience.

You must have really pissed her off.

The thought of that alone made you wet enough to put the toy in with little issue where it nestles between your walls snugly. It still feels weird, and you’ve scarcely had to walk around with it before.

You pull up your panties and sleep shorts and wash your hands, trying to drift your thoughts to something other than the way the egg moved just right inside of you every time you so much as shuffled.

You found your way into the kitchen when you could no longer find excuses to avoid it.

Rio was tilting bacon from a pan, still sizzling, onto a paper towel covered plate. She was in sweats dipped low on her hips and a sports bra, hair in the messiest of bind you’d ever seen from Rio.

Your clit throbbed at the image. The domesticity of it all.

You slid your arms onto the island’s counter, half bent over as you watched her turn around and catch sight of you.

A sparkle came into those dark eyes of hers and she smiled. “Hey baby,” she greeted, setting the plate down and swooping in to give you a kiss.

You returned it, smiling upward and humming your satisfaction at the proper hello she gave you.

And then her hand, fingers splayed, found the curve of your ass and settled there ever so comfortably while the kiss lasted.

“Up,” she murmured into your mouth. You knew what she was wanting, so you push off the counter and she followed, lips still attached to yours, and jumped with her arms lunging out to quickly catch you. Legs wrapped around her waist and your fingers curled in her messy bun.

“Mm, what a beauty,” Rio said, licking her lips once the kiss was broken for air neither of you could no longer deny. “Did you find your special gift on the counter?”

“Mmhm,” you answered, grinding your hips into her abs as your fingers played with the baby hairs at the back of her neck. “I was already wet enough to slip it in,” you added mischievously, smirking.

Rio snorted and allowed you to grind, though one of her hands found itself between your bodies to fiddle with the hem of your shorts. “I bet you are, babygirl.”

You brushed your lips against her neck in hopes she’d be drawn into giving you the best kitchen sex of your life; but no luck. She slipped her fingers in with purpose and didn’t even go near your clit.

She barks out laughter upon coming into contact with your wet heat herself, pushing her fingers in until the tips made contact with the egg nestled inside.

“Filthy fucking slut,” she drawls. “How the fuck this is staying inside so well,” she punctuates this with a push of the egg upwards, and you squeaked. It had no where to go. “I’m left to wonder. I really am.”

“Core exercises,” you shoot back, leaving her to lift her lips upward in a soft sided smirk.

“I give your core enough—“

You shove her chest despite being in her arms, causing her to adjust the one holding you so she gently sets you down onto the chilled hardwood, fingers sliding out of your cunt.

You pouted at her. “You didn’t have to stop.”

“You’re in enough trouble,” Rio reminded you, turning back to the oven at the exact moment the timer went off. “I’m trying to keep you from getting into more.”

You blew air into your cheeks but let the conversation drop as she pulled the muffins out. Your stomach growled as she started plating all the food. “Baby, mind helping me set the table?”

“Sure.” You turned on your heels and meandered through the kitchen until you came to the right cabinets, grabbing your day to day diningware and stopping for silverware on your way to the table.

She brought the plated food to the table just as you sat empty diningware onto the placemats. The little slice of life you had carved out for yourself — it wasn’t what you were expecting for yourself when you met Rio almost five years ago.

You had expected to remain in your New York City apartment, drinking wine by yourself in a lonely silence as you handled clients with nobody coming home to you.

You were glad you weren’t living that future, but this one.

You caught Rio sliding Wanda a slice of bacon and rolled your eyes, but didn’t comment on the action as you sat down across from her at the table.

“When did you get home?” you asked her as the two of you began piling your plates with food. “I don’t think I woke up?”

Rio’s lips twitched. “You didn’t,” she confirmed, stabbing her eggs first. “You were lost to this world, drooling into my pillow by the way.”

“It smells like you,” you defended, though you knew your drooling habit was true enough. Sleeping face down always ended in waking up in a puddle of your own making. “You can’t blame a girl for missing her wife.”

Rio shook her head, loose strands of hair drifting around her face. “I suppose I can’t,” she agreed.

You both fell into relative silence as you ate your breakfast, sometimes having brief chats about unimportant things.

Rio seemed distracted, though when you were telling her about the client from the other night.

You figured out why the second the toy inside of you began to vibrate. Thankfully she waited until you weren’t consuming food or drink before she decided to turn it on, because your body jerked forward involuntarily as your fingers curled against the edge of the table.

Rio stuck a piece of muffin in her mouth, eyes locked on you with the unlocked intensity that told you that “Daddy” was out to play now, not Rio.

“Feel good, baby?” she asked nonchalantly, pulling a strip of bacon apart and nibbling on it.

You breathed out through your nostrils, refusing to give her a vocal response until you could gather her bearings. Based on how slow the vibrations were against your walls, you deduced that she had it on the lowest setting — which meant she was feeling somewhat merciful this morning.

Sometimes she wasn’t as kind.

You glanced down at your half eaten plate, your glass of water you didn’t finish. Both worthy of punishment she would be pleased to give you if you didn’t leave both glass and plate empty.

“Feels good,” you confirmed as you adjusted your body on the chair and grabbed your fork.

“Feels good..?” Rio pressed, eyebrow arched.

You met her gaze as best you could while not rubbing your thighs together. “F-feels good, Daddy.”

Her smile widened and you know you had pleased her. “What a good girl,” she said, more so a dismissal for you to continue on than anything.

You were alight with arousal and soaking through your panties very, very quickly — sticking to your thighs and underneath your ass. It would grow uncomfortable soon but for now you put on a show for your wife, squirming on your chair and biting your lip between shaky nibbles of your breakfast.

She kept the setting of the vibrator blissfully low the entire time she had it on as you cleared your meal. Even if she was doing it to keep you aroused but not not close to cumming, you were somewhat grateful considering that this was the beginning of a punishment.

She stood up abruptly and started to stack empty plates and glasses. “Baby, mind getting tubberware and putting the muffins in the fridge?” she asked easily.

“Of course.” You stood, but the second you found steady footing the vibrator was clicked up a notch in speed.

Your hip knocked into the counter at the new clash of sensations that coursed through you. You made a low noise in your throat as you turned your body and placed your elbows on the countertop and leaned over it, trying to steady yourself.

“Aw, baby —“ a cool hand slid up your shirt, fingers mocking your overheated skin, “ — what’s wrong, huh? Are you hurt?”

“Daddy,” you bite out, clenching your legs together. Rio notices immediately, based on how her foot jams between your ankles and forces them apart and her knee rests comfortably between your soaked cunt.

“Holy shit, you can’t even keep yourself from ruining two layers of clothing,” Rio chortled, nails making upward and downward designs on your skin, her chest pressed against yours. “My knee is getting soaked.”

“M’cant help it,” you whined. Your forehead suddenly came into contact with the cold surface of the marble countertop, and you realized Rio had been slowly, gingerly bending you over.

“Of course not,” the agent agreed without issue as the hand not holding you down — now by the nape of your neck — slowly started pulling your shorts and underwear at down. “That’s why Daddy’s here, isn’t she? So she can get her stupid little girl back in line.”

You whine into the hard marble as her fingers brush against your ass. Then pulled away.

The vibrations grew in tandem, rapidly.

You yelped and jerked forward, knees knocking into the front of the counter despite Rio’s form holding you as still as she could.

“Nonono,” you whined, “m’gonna come.”

You warned her in advance — the buildup was intense and you were unable to avoid that road without Rio’s assistance. Your clit was throbbing to be touched, but even then you didn’t think you needed it to be for you to come.

The vibrator suddenly went still inside of you and a gasping sob escaped you, your sweat-slicked skin wiping along the countertop.

“Good girl,” Rio crooned as she massaged your neck. “I was fully expecting you to be a slut like you were the last time we played and come without Daddy’s permission — but I see my sweet, compliant girl is playing today. Not my brat.”

Her knee jabbed upward and you released a choked sound, fingers digging roughly into the edges of the counter.

“M’sorry — m’sorry,” you mewled, simpering and small in the ways that you knew Rio was digging through your headspace for. She loved your brat but she loved the thing that you became when she sought to punish you for being a brat.

The ebb of your lost orgasm faded as Rio held you there, basking in your sniffles and soft noises that she reveled in during your dynamic play. She took the time to rub the tension from your neck while her other hand kept a steady hold on your now bare waist.

She wouldn’t deny you for long — her preferred methods were overstimulating you and leaving you a sobbing mess rather than denial. But she cannot deny the deep root that came from the seed that was planted from your little game that night.

Her thumb made circles on your neck and she finally made a move as your breathing calmed.

You felt it when her fingers trailed down toward your weeping cunt, unbothered by the state of it and completely ignoring your clit entirely despite the aborted thrust of your hips to try and attempt stimulation.

“Stay still,” Rio ordered, tone final and tightening her grip just enough.

You went slack again and so did she, continuing her exploration. She played lightly, working you up until she finally inserted two fingers and grabbed the toy inside of you to pull it out.

You hated how empty it left you, the ghost vibrations still shooting pleasures to your nervous system. You shivered as Rio tossed the toy into the sink to be washed.

“Not with the dishes,” you moaned out.

Rio’s hand suddenly grasped your hair and she pulled your head up so she could look at you over your shoulder. “Do you think Daddy gives two shits if our dishes and toys mix?”

You swallowed. “No, but —“

“It’s, ‘No, Daddy,’” Rio corrected as she let go of your head and started roughly fingering you, no warning. “What’s your color?”

“G-green,” you yelped, stomach shoved into the counter as she took her place behind you and began to thrust upward into you.

“Are you ever going to disobey Daddy again?” Rio demanded, her breaths almost as lost as yours as she finally, finally, allowed you to meet her thrusts in tandem and her thumb came to roughly circle your clit.

As much as she was denying you before, this was now turning into a fucking that your brain couldn’t catch up with. A sort of whiplash that left you reeling and Rio knew exactly how to handle it.

“No Daddy,” you promised. “No, never again, I—oh,” you shuddered as a particularly hard thrust interrupted your decree and you were wordless.

“I just need to keep you fucked stupid if I want you to obey, I guess,” Rio mused, mostly to herself as her index finger suddenly scraped over your g-spot.

“Daddy, I—I’m gonna — Please,” you sobbed, sagging into her at the explosion of pleasure that threatened to over take you.

“Come for me, baby,” Rio said, a little more softly without lightening her touch.

It was ripping your body apart — this pleasure. It tore down your sides and cascaded through your entire body like a tidal wave of epic proportions.

Your knees couldn’t hold themselves up and Rio didn’t bother to stop fucking you, she sped up.

Two. Three, four more orgasms were forced from you until, finally, Rio lowered both of you onto the kitchen floor as you rippled through the aftermath of unrelenting torrents she pushed on you.

She pressed kisses into your hair, fingers still buried into you, and waited for you to come back to her.

You came back to awareness in a vanilla bubble bath, laying against something warm as a sponge rubbed along your arm.

“Hey.”

You turned your head and blinked blearily at Rio then offered a smile and buried your face into the crook of her neck, readjusting your body to be closer to her.

She didn’t stop you, letting the sponge fall into the water and wrapping her arms around you so tightly to encase you in her shield of warmth.

“If you’re up for it,” your wife started, voice husky, “I managed to get us our reservation in tonight.”

You shifted your gaze up to look at her, hers down to you and you smiled as you leaned up to kiss her.

“As long as you don’t keep me waiting again.”

Rio only smiled into the kiss.

[jinuaei]

What if instead of famous!reader we got famous!Tarn who is in a band (after the war the djd had to pay the bills somehow) and meets reader again by chance (sound technician? Roadie? Friend of a fan that brought them to a concert?) and he starts writing this heart wrenching love songs full of yearning.

"Here's a power ballad about guts and blood spilled for the glory of a higher cause. And here's five minutes of me basically going PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE-"

Yes!!! Singer Tarn! His voice is so deep it rattles the insides of everybot/human that hears it. His passion for music is evident in every concert and every song he sings, and that rough demeanor (though traumatizing to some) is a big hit for every audience but you will find that he's more popular with the ladies.

And you, his newest manager is his most recent muse. After his old manager pissed him off, he had Kaon find a new one, and by Primus, Kaon chose well. Gone are the days where he sings in support for Decepticons, now all he can write and sing about are love songs.

It's an instant hit! Fans swoon when they hear his voice yearning for his beloved, some supportive of his love, while some are jealous. But the very being that became the center of every music he creates is oblivious to his affection.

Who can blame you? You are too busy to properly relax and listen to Tarn's music. Yes, you are a fan but his popularity and current tour means you have to prepare a lot of things, you don’t really have enough time to listen properly unless you are there during the recordings.

Speaking of recordings, even that is not safe from his longing gazes, he’s often found staring at you as he sings songs of love. It becomes slightly awkward when the sound engineer asks him to start over again because he accidentally used his outlier ability and fucked up the whole set up while he’s too busy lovingly looking at you. The sound engineer squeaks in fear when Tarn only responds with a glare.

(Sound Technician also sounds good ngl because imagine the reader getting pissy at Tarn because he destroyed your equipment for the 4th time that month while he’s blowing kisses and sending EM fields of obsessive love. It’s him who has to pay for it but it’s delaying the concert so much and ughhhhh your shit broke again)

And there’s a scenario for a concert that I conjured up and rewrote because the original one was too wordy? Fancy? You know that type of writing I do when I write it too seriously and the fic becomes good but also theatrical? Wanted this one to be more light hearted but I will post the original one after I make it coherent enough.

It’s the day of the concert and you are stressed out of your mind, but somehow you guys pulled through and the DJD are now on stage performing their hit songs. However, one of the sound crew fucked up something because one moment Tarn hears the familiar sound of the metronome on his earpiece and the next, he hears your voice, screaming words of encouragement and singing along with him.

He freezes, not prepared to hear you praise him, but it only lasts a moment before he continues, now energized and spark warm. He is used to hearing you always stressed out and hearing you enjoying yourself is such a treat to him, he hopes that the sound crew doesn’t notice their mistake and keep you on the line.

Luckily for Tarn, they did not catch it and he got to listen to you sing your heart out alongside him, which by the way — is so beautiful to him. Like a siren luring men to their death, it makes him want to run to you and beg you to sing for him. (mhhh phantom of the opera Tarn)

He can still hear you in his earpiece even when they are near the end of the concert where they are thanking people. It was going so well, so swimmingly well until he heard a phrase roll through his audials. That damned phrase that triggered his outlier ability.

‘That’s my Tarn!’

…

My Tarn…

Your Tarn?

YOUR TARN???

Suddenly all lights and sound cease, and the fans gasp in shock and panic as they are bathed in darkness. One of the DJD, probably Kaon, reassures the crowd, asking them to calm down, but Tarn is oblivious to it. The phrase keeps echoing through his processor, and his fans whirs on dumbly looking at the panicking crowd. He manages to snap out of it when he realized he couldn’t hear you anymore, and he himself panics. 

He abandons his post and rushes backstage, trying to find you in the swarm of stressed out crewmates. He grabbed you as soon as he saw you, swiftly guiding you to his makeup room. The large mech asks you to sit down and once you do he begs you to call him your Tarn again. 

“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE—!”

“PAUSE!!!!! We need to get you back on stage!” You scold him, trying to stand back up but you are once again forced back down when he laid his helm on your lap.

He continues muttering his request, wrapping his arms around your legs. Unbeknownst to him, the power managed to turn on again and the fans can actually hear him beg for you to call him yours again because this love sick singer forgot to remove his mic when he left the stage. However, you were not as engrossed in your delusion so you can hear his voice echo through the whole stadium, you can already feel the headache that this will cause you and his PR team.

You shut yourself up, trying not to expose your voice to the public before removing the mic attached to his helm and throwing it away where it hopefully does not catch your voice. Since he is still insistent and you cannot simply push this whole aft mountain from your lap, you chose to indulge in his request.

Tarn is so lucky to have that outlier ability because if his ability didn’t trigger and shut down the stadium again the moment you said it, he would have to explain so much about that choked moan that came out from his intake. 

You, however, are not as lucky as you almost slipped and fell from his fluids on the floor, he managed to catch you but he had the audacity to look ashamed when some of that spilt transfluid actually clung to your legs.

This went completely the other way and I am sorry

[mintedwitcher]

I spent the last two days catching up on all the episodes of 911 that I've missed, and I need to say a few things. actually, a lot of things. this got long so I'm putting it under a cut.

8b is significantly better overall than 8a. the storylines, the pacing, the character interactions. it is significantly better in this half of the season. that being said:

I have mixed feelings about Eddie's SL. on the one hand, I'm proud of him for finally making a good parenting decision (putting his son first). on the other, I hate how it felt like he was essentially rewarded for the bare minimum. I also hate how he treated Buck, but that's a sidenote.

I didn't like Maddie's kidnapping arc. I hate that they made the villain a cheap, bad example of DID, when it would've been far more interesting for her to be entirely neurotypical. people with mental illness are more likely to be the victims of violent crime than the perpetrators of it, and this plot felt like a slap in the face to anyone with mental health concerns, especially with the addition of Maddie talking a man into suicide (even though it didn't really happen), and then slapping the suicide hotline on the end credits like that was going to do anything. I'm not even actively suicidal and Maddie's speech to the "kidnapper" was triggering as all hell for me. I can't imagine how much worse it was for people who are still fighting that battle. I do like that they didn't just let Maddie brush it all off like nothing happened, however I do think she still should've faced actual consequences for what she said on the phone. In season 2, Gloria got fired just for hanging up on people. Maddie talked a caller into killing himself. That should've had consequences.

Athena, for once, I have no complaints about. her storylines felt more grounded in reality in 8b, and there was significantly less of the 'vigilante cop' angle, which I'm definitely happy about. (I don't know or care what happened in the Dr Odyssey crossover, so I can't speak on that.) I liked her having a rookie, AND I like that the rookie faced consequences in-universe for what he did. I wish that was more common, but I'm still glad it happened, and I'm looking forward to s9 bringing in a new (hopefully better) rookie for Athena to train.

Ravi, no notes, he was amazing in every episode.

now for the Big One: Bobby.

I loved this arc. it felt real and serious in a way that 911 frankly hasn't been lately. Bobby dedicating himself to saving his team is so entirely in character. it's what he's always done, ever since we were first introduced to Bobby Nash. he has always and will always put his team and his family before himself, every single time, because the one time he didn't, he lost everything. this is a man who knows the agony of loss, the pain of guilt, and who will do whatever it takes to protect others from feeling the same thing. the fact that his death is an act of personal sacrifice - letting Chim take the antiviral, keeping silent about his own infection - is the only way he could possibly go out.

(I've seen a lot of theories about him still being alive, but I have to disagree, vehemently. this is not a sci-fi show, this is not Supernatural. characters who die in 911 stay dead, even if the memory of them doesn't.)

showcasing Athena and Chim's grief in the funeral episode was an amazing choice. mirroring Athena's grief with Leah, mirroring both women's denial, it was a fantastic narrative decision, and it works so well. Leah couldn't let go of Micah, Athena couldn't let go of Bobby. they were both prolonging and delaying their grief, and they were only finally able to put down that weight when they accepted that their loved ones were truly gone. when they accepted the permanence of it.

and Chimney - the guy who stays level-headed, the guy who doesn't get angry, not really, not often - being the one full of rage at Bobby's death was so important. grief is painful, and the unfairness of it is infuriating. and for Chim to be the one to express that, I think, was the best choice they could've made. it would've been too easy to give anger to Eddie, or Buck, but giving it to Chim felt more real. because yeah, out of all of them, Chim has arguably the most reason to be angry. Bobby lied to him, to all of them, and while it did save Chim's life, it still hurts, because what if... you know? what if there was another way, what if there was a way to buy time, what if there was something he could do. Chim is a paramedic, his entire life revolves around healing people, keeping them alive. watching Bobby go out like that would've felt like a failing on Chim's part, like he didn't do enough, like he wasn't good enough. so yeah, Chim being angry was the perfect choice.

I'm looking forward to seeing how the grief is handled for Ravi, Hen, Eddie, and Buck in the next two episodes. if they keep the same tempo as this one, I'm guessing we'll get to focus on two mains per ep, with some scenes to show how the others are coping in the meantime.

I saw someone on here theorise that the show is essentially using the characters to personify the stages of grief, so it's definitely going to be interesting to see who takes which role in the next two episodes. I feel like Ravi and Eddie are both going to be 'bargaining' - they both feel a measure of personal responsibility, as if they could've 'done more', we saw glimpses of it already in e16. I think Hen will be 'acceptance'. she went back to work a week early to be there for her team.

and so that leaves 'depression' for Buck, which I think is very accurate. he's holding on for now, for everyone else, but I think the more he pushes it down, the worse it's going to be, and the more numb he's going to become. out of everyone in the 118, Buck takes their losses the hardest. he cares so much, and with so much of himself, that he just can't help it. he feels every single loss like a personal one, and this might be the most personal loss he's ever endured. Bobby was like a father to him, and he was the one who had to watch, who had to relay the news, who had to walk away and let Bobby die. that is going to break him, I think.

I can't wait to see how it goes down for the next two episodes. I've been saying for months that 911 needs to shake things up if they want to stay afloat, and the only options for Bobby going forward were always going to be death or retirement. I'm sad that he's gone, and I'll miss Bobby all the time going forward, but I am so excited to see what new storylines can come from this change.

I know not everyone is going to agree with me, so I'm asking now, if you want to add your opinions here, go ahead, but be civil about it. I'm not looking for discourse. any hate will be deleted and blocked on sight. my asks are currently open if anyone wants to discuss the show there.

[writingpandagoth]

Imagine Severus and Y/n have a little daughter. They’re sleeping and she comes into their bedroom, wakes them up and told them, that she want to sleep in their bed with them, because she is scared. 🥺

Lots of fluff please 🙏🏻. Thank you. I love your stories.

Honestly this idea made my heart melt and here it is.

I started writing...nearly cried because it was so short...so I took it a little further and it turned into a whole Day❤️

One very fluffy and my way of love bombing you all with cuteness and Girl Dad Severus right up.❤️

Safe and Sound

Moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a silver sheen across the room. The bedroom was silent, save for the soft breathing.

You're warm beneath the covers, tucked safely against your husband’s side. His breathing is slow and steady, arm looped loosely around your waist, the weight of it grounding and familiar.

Quiet, peaceful, wrapped in the kind of comfort you never take for granted.

Until:

Tiny footsteps. Barely a whisper on the wooden floor. Then a little voice, barely above a whisper.

“...Dada?”

Severus’s eyes snapped open immediately. He is already sitting up, ever the light sleeper when it comes to his daughter. His silhouette blocks out part of the moonlight as he turns toward the door.

“What's wrong?” he whispered, his voice even deeper than usual with sleep.

You stir at his sudden movement, blinking groggily as your eyes follow his gaze.

And there she is.

Your little girl, standing in the doorway in her lavender pajamas, curls wild from sleep and a plush hippogriff held tightly in her arms. Her dark eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, and your heart clenches before she even speaks again.

“I had a bad dream…” she says, voice cracking at the edges.

Before you can even say anything, Severus is lifting the blanket, his entire expression softened, voice dropping even lower.

“Come here, love.” he says, so gently you swear it melts your bones.

She wasted no time, padding across the room on her tiny feet with her plushie bouncing in her arms, and you scoot back a bit to make room. She climbs up onto the bed and into Severus’s arms like she had been doing it since she was just a baby.

“Dada,” she whispers again, this time muffled as she presses her face into his chest.

“There we go. I’ve got you,” he murmurs, curling his arms around her small frame, cradling her like she’s made of something fragile and precious. “It���s alright now. Nothing’s going to get you here.”

You watch him hold her, brushing her curls away from her damp forehead, and your heart feels like it might just explode. The way his voice drops, how he presses a kiss to her hairline like she’s sacred. This is the man who was once feared, now a puddle of love because of a four-year-old with a plush toy and sleepy eyes.

“You’re safe, baby. We’ve got you.” You reach out to smooth her nightshirt and tuck the blankets up around her back. She wiggles a bit to face you, now nestled perfectly between the two of you. Her little hand finds yours beneath the blanket, and she holds on tightly, like you’re her anchor.

“I dreamed a big spider came in my room,” she whispers, still a little shaken.

Severus lets out a soft breath through his nose. “I promise you, no spiders are allowed in this house,” he says, brushing his fingers down her back in slow, calming strokes. “Especially not in your room. Dada and Mummy would hex them right out the window.”

She giggles softly at that, the sound warm and sleepy. “With sparkles?”

“Yes,” he says, deadpan. “Lethal sparkles.”

That makes you both laugh quietly, and your daughter lets out a sigh of relief, safe now in your arms, safe in her little world made up of soft voices and warm hands and the unshakable love of two people who would destroy the world for her.

She starts to fall asleep between you, her breathing even, one hand clutching her plushie again, the other curled against Severus’s chest. He catches your eye over the top of her head.

And the look he gives you?

It’s soft. Overflowing. A wordless, soul-deep kind of love.

You smile at him.

Severus placed a kiss on the crown of your daughters head, his other arm slipping around your waist, bringing the three of you into a quiet cocoon. You settle into this new shape beneath the duvet, tangled together in love and linen. Severus keeps a hand on her back like a shield. You brush your thumb along her fingers like a lullaby.

And eventually, sleep returns—softer this time, sweeter.

You fall asleep to the sound of your daughter’s steady breathing, Severus’s heart beating beneath your hand, and the quiet, unshakable certainty that this... this is what happiness looks like.

And just like that, the nightmare was gone. Replaced by the safest place a child could ever know: her parents’ arms.

--

You're half-awake before you even open your eyes, swimming somewhere between sleep and consciousness. It's the warmth that holds you there—the soft, sleepy weight of your daughter draped over your chest, her tiny fingers curled in your shirt, and the steady rise and fall of Severus’s chest at your side.

The morning light is filtering through the curtains in pale gold streaks. It's quiet, peaceful. The world hasn’t quite woken up yet—and neither have you, not really. And you don’t want to. Not when this is what you’re waking up to.

Severus shifts, careful not to jostle either of you. His arm is wrapped around your waist, hand resting lightly on your hip, thumb moving in slow, lazy circles.

“Morning,” he murmurs, his voice still low and rough from sleep.

You hum in response, too content to say much else.

Your daughter gives a tiny sigh in her sleep, snuggling closer to you, her little face smushed against your chest. Her plush hippogriff is tucked snugly between her and Severus, its fabric worn from love. You press a soft kiss to the top of her curls and feel the way Severus leans in too, his nose brushing against the side of your neck.

“Did she sleep through?” you whisper.

“She didn’t move all night,” he answers, voice soft and full of awe. “Held onto me like a Niffler with treasure.”

You smile into her hair. “That’s because she knows she’s got the best Dada in the world.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you feel the press of his lips at your shoulder. It’s the quiet kind of affection that says everything.

For a few minutes, no one says anything. The room is wrapped in warmth and hush. Outside, birds are just beginning to chirp. Inside, you’re wrapped in limbs and love.

You twist your fingers gently through your daughter’s curls and glance back at Severus. He looks soft like this—hair a little messy, eyes still half-lidded, the usual tension gone from his brow. He looks at peace.

“I could stay like this forever,” you whisper.

His hand tightens just slightly on your hip. “Then let’s not move.”

And so you don’t.

You stay in that bed, curled together with your family, breathing the same slow rhythm. No rush, no noise, no need to be anywhere else.

Eventually, your daughter began to stir, her little nose scrunching as she blinked her way into the soft light of morning. Still clutching her plushie, She blinks at you before turning to Severus, smiles, all sleepy and squinty. “Mornin’, Dada…”

You’re not sure which aches more from love—your heart or his.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. “Sleep better?”

She nodded, crawling up slightly to press a kiss to his cheek, then turned and planted one right on yours, too. Your heart just melted on the spot.

Eventually, all three of you made your way out of bed in a slow shuffle of yawns and tangled limbs. Severus carried her down the stairs with her still wrapped around him like a clingy baby Niffler, and you followed behind, your heart full and aching in the best way.

The kitchen was still dim with early light, but warm from the fire Severus lit with a flick of his wand. You got to work on tea and toast while Severus settled your daughter at the table, still holding her plush hippogriff and rubbing her eyes.

Soon the kitchen is filled with the soft clinking of mugs and the gentle crackle of fire. Severus lets her stand on a stool beside him, showing her how to pour juice.

Her hippogriff is perched on the table like a fourth member of the family.

“Dada,” she said, her little voice suddenly bright, “can I have honey on my toast today?”

“Only if I get a bite,” he replied, already pulling a plate down for her. She grinned wide.

As you worked, you watched them out of the corner of your eye. Severus crouched beside her chair, helping her spread honey across her toast with slow, careful movements. It was ridiculous how gentle he was with her—like she was something magical he still couldn’t believe was real.

When she dropped a bit of toast onto her lap, he picked it up without a word, brushed the crumbs off her pajama pants, and kissed the top of her head before going back to his own mug.

You slid into the chair beside them with your own plate, and she immediately reached for your hand under the table, swinging her feet idly.

“Best breakfast ever,” she announced around a mouthful of honey toast.

“Because of the food?” you teased.

She shook her head dramatically. “Because I’m with my Dada and Mummy.”

Severus let out a breath—half laugh, half something tenderer—and glanced over at you with that same soft, secret smile he always saved just for the two of you. You reached for his hand across the table, lacing your fingers together.

In that look, you feel everything: wonder, devotion, the kind of love he used to think was never meant for him—but now lives in every breath of this little home.

Breakfast dishes forgotten, the three of you wandered outside, letting the crisp morning air shake off whatever sleepiness still clung to your limbs. The sky was pale blue, the grass damp and glittering with dew.

Your daughter was bouncing with energy now, pointing at clouds, chasing a butterfly, dragging her hippogriff along like a sidekick. She runs in her tiny wellies, shouting things like “I’m a dragon!” and “Look! A leaf!”

You sat on a bench beneath the big oak tree, warm tea in hand, watching as Severus scoops her up when she gets too excited, lifting her onto his shoulders. She shrieks with laughter.

“Hold on tight,” he said, standing up straight with her legs on his shoulders. She squealed in delight, clinging to his hair like reins.

“Higher, Dada! You’re so tall! I can see the WHOLE garden!”

“That's because I'm a giant,” he said solemnly. “A very fearsome toast-making giant.”

You laughed, and she giggled uncontrollably, one hand pointing toward the garden as if steering a ship. He carried her around like royalty, making up nonsense stories about enchanted cabbages and dancing teacups.

And in that moment—morning sun warming your face, your husband smiling up at you with your daughter on his shoulders, her laughter echoing through the garden—you felt it again:

That this is what magic truly feels like.

After a long stretch of garden adventures—collecting pebbles, naming every dandelion, declaring war on a patch of suspiciously rustling grass—your little girl finally begins to slow down. Her run becomes a shuffle. Her arms reach up wordlessly.

You don’t hesitate. You scoop her up, and she melts into you like warm butter, her cheek resting on your shoulder, her arms around your neck with just enough grip to say don’t let go.

“She’s done,” you say quietly.

Severus is already picking up the plush hippogriff she dropped back near the flowerbeds, brushing off a bit of dirt like it’s something priceless. Which, to her, it is.

You walk back to the house like that: your daughter’s soft breaths against your collarbone, Severus at your side, the early afternoon sun casting warm light across the lawn.

Inside, the house is quiet. Cool. Peaceful.

You settle down on the couch with her still in your arms, and she doesn’t stir, just sighs softly as you shift her to rest more comfortably across your lap. One little leg flops onto Severus’s thigh the second he sits down beside you. The other stays draped over yours.

She’s out cold in seconds.

Her curls are a halo of chaos around her face, her cheeks pink from sun and play. She’s still clutching the corner of her hippogriff in one hand. The other is splayed across your chest, her tiny fingers curled in the fabric of your shirt like she’s anchoring herself to you.

You feel Severus’s hand find yours across her back. He doesn’t say anything at first, just slides his thumb over your knuckles in quiet rhythm.

“She’s everything,” you whisper eventually, voice barely audible in the hush of the room.

“She’s ours,” he replies, and there’s a weight to it. A wonder. Like he still can’t quite believe it.

You rest your head against his shoulder, and he leans down, gently pressing his cheek against your hair. His free hand brushes softly over her leg. You can feel the way his whole body relaxes beside you.

None of you move.

Minutes stretch. The only sounds are the clock ticking gently on the wall and the occasional sleepy sigh from your daughter as she snuggles deeper between the two of you.

You’re perfectly content to stay like this forever.

At some point—who knows how long later—she starts to stir. Her face scrunches. She makes a soft, grumpy whimper, then turns a bit to peek up at Severus, who’s already watching her like she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen.

She blinks. Licks her lips. Her voice is raspy and dramatic: “...Dada. I want biscuits.”

You snort softly, and Severus raises an eyebrow.

“You just woke up, and already with the demands,” he says, but he’s already moving to get them.

“Well, then. Emergency biscuit retrieval in progress.”

She rolls into your lap fully now, sprawling like a sleepy cat, and grins up at you. “Can I have two?”

You lean down and kiss her forehead. “Only if you share.”

“I’ll give Dada the crumbly one.”

“Perfect,” you whisper with a smile.

From the kitchen, you hear Severus call out, “I heard that.”

--

Dinner is slow and easy, the kind of meal that doesn’t need to be fancy to feel perfect. You made her favorite—simple pasta with lots of cheese, peas mixed in, and garlic toast on the side. She eats with messy enthusiasm, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk and crumbs everywhere. Her little feet swing under the table, barely brushing the chair legs.

Between bites, she fills the air with stories so ridiculous they make you nearly snort into your tea.

“And then the toast jumped out of the toaster and said, ‘I’m not ready for my day either!’” she says with full dramatic flair, waving a noodle-covered fork in the air. “So he ran away! With jam on his face!”

Severus nods solemnly, as if this tale of breakfast rebellion is of the utmost importance.

“What happened next?” he asks, chin resting on one hand, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“The chair started dancing because the toast hit the floor and made a jam mess, and it was slippery and—and it went WHEEEE and spun around!”

You’re half-choking with laughter now, and Severus’s eyes are crinkled in a way you still don’t see often enough—but when you do, it feels like sunlight.

“Clearly,” he says, “our furniture needs to be supervised more closely.”

After dinner, she insists on “helping” clear the table, which means handing you forks one at a time while narrating dramatic stories about a princess who lives in a spoon drawer.

You don’t rush. Not this evening.

You run the water warm and bubbly, and she throws in two handfuls of foam stars you got her from Diagon Alley last month. They sparkle and fizz, turning the bath faintly pink.

“She needs a bath too,” your daughter says very seriously, holding up the plush hippogriff.

“She was in the garden,” you agree. “She probably stepped on a worm.”

“She stepped on three, Mummy.”

You solemnly nod. “Then she absolutely needs a good scrub.”

Severus helps fold a towel over the edge of the tub and leans his elbows on it, watching the scene with that fond look he reserves only for you and her. When the hippogriff gets dunked under the bubbles and comes back up soggy, he raises a brow.

“I hope she’s waterproof.”

“She is now,” your daughter says confidently, foam on her nose.

By the time the water starts to cool, she’s pruny and wrinkled and sleepy all over again. You pull the plug and lift her out, wrapped immediately in a soft, oversized towel.

Severus is already holding another one, and together you burrito-wrap her so snugly that she can’t move her arms.

“I’m a caterpillar,” she mumbles through the towel.

“You’re about to be a butterfly in pajamas,” you whisper back, kissing her damp hair.

She waddles out to the couch in lavender pajamas covered in stars, still holding the half-damp hippogriff in one arm. She plops herself onto your lap without asking, as though she never belonged anywhere else. You settle in, warm and tired, with Severus beside you, one arm resting behind your shoulders, his other hand lightly brushing her leg as she gets comfy.

“Book?” she mumbles.

“Which one?”

“The one where the moon eats a pie.”

You know exactly which one she means. You grab it from the side table, flip it open, and begin reading in a soft voice.

Halfway through, her breathing slows. Her thumb finds her mouth, her head sinks a little heavier against your chest. Severus shifts just slightly, adjusting the blanket over her legs.

By the time the moon has finished its pie, she’s already out cold.

Severus closes the book gently. He stands and leans down, his hands sliding under her with practiced ease.

“I’ll take her.”

You nod and stay where you are, watching with your heart full as he carries her like she’s made of spun sugar.

You follow quietly, just far enough behind to see him tuck her in, smooth her curls back from her forehead, and press a kiss to her temple.

“Goodnight, my brave girl,” he whispers.

She stirs only slightly. Then, barely audible, you hear her murmured reply: “Love you, Dada…”

His breath hitches. Just a little. Just enough that you see the man beneath the stillness. The boy who never heard those words. The man who now hears them every day and still doesn’t take them for granted.

“Love you too,” he says, and his voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it.

He comes to you in the hallway, closing the door with the softest click. You step into him instantly, arms wrapping around his waist, cheek against his chest.

“We love you so much,” you whisper.

He swallows, and you feel the emotion in his voice before he even speaks. “Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve this,” he says, barely louder than the wind.

You pull back, placing your hand against his cheek, making him look at you.

“You loved,” you say. “That’s all. You loved her. And me. Fully. Every day.”

His eyes fall shut, and he leans his forehead against yours.

Back in your bed, the silence returns. Familiar. Safe.

Severus wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“I wish I could give this to my younger self,” he says suddenly, voice quiet. “Just… one moment of this. To know it was real. That it was coming.”

You press your face to his chest. “You’re here now. You made it real.”

And with that, you drift off. Wrapped in the soft, sacred quiet of a home filled with love.

While your daughter dreams in her own bed, safe and loved and full of magic.

[slytherin-pen]

i am in desperate need for more cazriel x reader !! I’m on my period currently and was hoping u could write abt reader being grouchy and having an attitude and how they cope w it … w lots of fluff ofc <3

Chocolate Troubles

pairing: Cazriel x Reader

word count: 1.1k

a/n: hope you enjoy, anon. we’re suffering together unfortunately.

You didn’t mean to be a total brat, but it felt like a tiny, angry child was kneading your insides like playdough and really, how else were you supposed to act?

A part of you felt guilty for your poor mates who had to put up with you, but the other part was ready to crawl into a hole and sob while simultaneously burning down the house.

“That’s the wrong chocolate,” you groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “I said dark with coconut, not milk with raspberry jam, Cass, do you want me to cry or are you just into watching females suffer?”

Cassian froze mid-step in the middle of the living room, brows drawn in the expression of a male who has fought countless battles but knows this one might be the most dangerous.

“They were out of coconut chocolate,” he said carefully. “But I got three kinds of other chocolate. And a heated blanket. And that herbal tea Az says helps with cramping.”

You buried your face in a pillow and whined. Loudly. It was a full-body complaint. Crampy. Hungry. Emotional. Rage-adjacent. All of it rolled into one frustrated sound that made your mate wince.

“Just throw me into the Sidra,” you muttered. “Let me float away and become a bitter little river nymph.”

Cassian laughed, and the absolute nerve of the male, you should grab him by the balls and—

But then he’s crouched in front of you, cupping your cheek with a big warm hand. His other hand rested on your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the tense muscle.

“Do river nymphs get chocolate?” he asks, his voice low and coaxing. “Because I did get this…”

From behind his back, he pulls out a fourth bar of chocolate—the exact kind you wanted. Dark with coconut.

You blinked. “You lied.”

“You’re so cute when you’re being dramatic, I can’t help but poke the bear sometimes,” Cassian said as he grinned.

Before you can thank him or fake being mad just to be a brat, Azriel appears and sets a tray on the coffee table. It holds a mug of tea, a heating pad, your favorite sweater of his, and—

“You made brownies?” you ask, eyes widening.

Azriel gives a small, sheepish nod. “With extra fudge, just the way you like.”

Your eyes well up with tears.

You’re not sure if it’s the pain or the love, but both males freeze like they’re preparing for a flood.

Az crouched beside you next to Cassian and gently smoothed a piece of hair behind your ear. “Is this a good cry or a bad cry?”

You sniffled. “I’m not sure yet.”

Cassian held up the brownie like an offering to a goddess. “Good cry if you eat this?”

You snatched it from him and took a bite so rich it practically melts into your soul. It’s warm. Gooey. Perfect.

“Good cry,” you confirm around a mouthful.

Both males visibly relaxed.

They don’t ask to cuddle. They just move with the easy rhythm of long-practiced affection. Azriel gathered you into his lap on one end of the couch, arranging the heated blanket over you. His hand slid beneath the hem of your sleep shorts to rest against the small of your back, applying gentle, consistent pressure that somehow makes the cramps less agonizing.

Cassian lounged on the other end, pulled your legs across his lap and massaged your calves, his thumb catching a knot in your aching muscles.

“You’re so lucky I love you,” you said, squinting at them with dramatic judgment.

Cassian smirked. “I feel like that’s something I’m going to hear twelve more times today.”

“Twelve?” Az echoed. “Low estimate.”

You elbowed them both half-heartedly. “Don’t bully me”

Cassian leaned over and pressed a kiss to your knee. “We would never. We love you.”

Azriel rested his cheek against your temple. “Even when you’re a hormonal little menace.”

You gasp. “You take that back.”

“You threatened to unmate me this morning because I gave you the wrong spoon,” Az pointed out, calmly sipping his tea.

“It was the big spoon instead of the little spoon. It was offensive,” you said, your bottom lip sticking out in a pout.

Cassian howled with laughter and you whacked him with a couch pillow. You quickly regretted the action when it sent a new wave of cramps rippling through your abdomen.

You groaned, curling forward.

“Shh, hey,” Az said quickly, rubbing slow circles into your back. “That bad again?”

“Mmhmm.”

Cassian’s hands moved to your thighs, warm and soothing. “Want me to get the balm?”

“Don’t touch me with that minty demon slime again,” you grumbled into Az’s chest. “It burned my uterus last time.”

“I think it just tingled,” Azriel said gently.

“Well why don’t you try it and see if it just tingles?”

Azriel shared a look with Cassian that said, Do not argue. Not today. Cassian wisely nodded and switched tactics, rubbing your calves again with practiced ease.

“You want a bath?” Cassian offers after a moment. “I’ll run it. Real hot. Bubbles, salts, whatever you want.”

“Not now,” you mumbled. “Too sore.”

He cooed and leaned down to kiss the side of your knee again. “Tell me when and I’ll carry you in.”

Azriel hummed. “You should nap.”

You snorted. “Every time I nap, I wake up sweaty and in pain and convinced I’ve missed five appointments I don’t actually have.”

“You haven’t had any appointments in months,” Az said softly.

“Exactly.”

Cassian grinned and shifted slightly, brushing your ankle with the pad of his thumb. “So what’s the plan, General?”

You look at both of them, your two stupidly handsome, frustratingly doting males, and sighed.

“Plan is…” you muttered. “You keep massaging me, Azriel keeps holding me and reads the romance book I love and neither of you are allowed to complain.”

Cass sighed like he’d been sentenced to death.

“Deal,” Azriel said.

You smile, victorious. “Also I want to braid someone’s hair.”

Cassian raises a brow. “Yours?”

“No, yours.”

He arched a brow. “You want to braid my hair?”

“Yes! Oh, and put little bows in it, too. It’ll be so cute!”

Azriel laughed into his fist as Cassian, resigned but smitten, plopped onto the floor in front of you.

You braid Cassian’s hair. Azriel reads your favorite book softly. Cassian starts to open your chocolate while you’re distracted and you complain. He gives you a bite and the homicidal urge dissipates.

The cramps don’t go away. Your bones still ache, but you’re warm, safe, and so loved. And Cassian in two french braids tied off with bows helped significantly, too.

[kilojulietsierra]

Two thoughts from your Ellis blurb:

Shen was Jack’s first duckling - met him as a scrawny intern then Sam adopted him and started sending extra food. Jack liked Shen was unflappable, and a little quirky. Kept him on his toes.

Ellis gets invited to girls night, “but don’t tell Jack” - when Jack gets wind of Ellis going to girls night he turns to the three ladies and says “do not corrupt her. She’s mine.”

Shen

- Shen kind of gives me stray cat vibes, like we didn’t pick him but we somehow ended up with him 🤷🏻‍♀️

- Jack picked Ellis and then he picked King, basically outright stole them out from under Robby’s nose. But Shen I feel like Robby pawned him off on Jack a little bit.

- Robby and Jack go out for beers and Robby tells him “Brother, I am going to strangle this kid I swear.” Jack snorts “is this you trying to convince me to take him? Because it’s not working.”

- Shen ended up on night shift anyway

- He’s book smart, like really book smart. Which makes Jack nervous. Nights are for the street-smart kids and Jack is a sink or swim kind of teacher.

- Shen gets on his nerves too and boy does Jack give Robby hell because “fuck you man” but one thing, the only thing at first, that Jack can cling to? This kid does not bat an eye.

- Nothing phases him. Nothing. The kid is rock solid, stone cold, unflappable.

- Shen maybe wasn’t ever a “favorite” but Jack still memorized his ungodly complicated Dunkin order. Still told Sam about him. She starts to throw in a little extra food here and there because Jack’s pretty sure he lives on coffe, vending machine snacks and food service cart sandwiches

- Shen will make a good doctor and Jack is going to help get him there, but he’s going to scowl. A lot.

- Jack hadn’t ever really cared to go the extra mile with any of the residents before Shen. They were there to learn and Jack therefore occasionally had to teach. Thankfully not often because no young doctor wants to start on nights.

- So Shen was kind of the test run because, as much as he may have got on Jacks nerves at first, he liked the kid. He wanted to see him succeed.

- A little tipsy on a night off Jack and Sam are cuddling on the patio, Jack is complaining about something Shen did wrong the night before. “I taught him better than that, he should know by now.” Sam starts to giggle “everyone always says you make all the mistakes with the first kid. We’ll do better with the next one.” Jack sips his bourbon with a smirk and nods, “I’m sure he’ll be fine”

- So maybe Shen never got the full Jack and Sam Abbot adoption package, but he’s definitely the one that started it all

Girls Night Out

- They keep it low key. A rooftop bar with a cool vibe and a bougie drink menu

- Because Jack cornered them before they left the house, mostly Emery and Yolanda “do not, look at me, do not get her in trouble, do not corrupt her, do not try to convince her to switch specialties. She’s mine. Am I clear?”

- Walsh gives him a snarky salute.

- Garcia “ok daaaad, whatever you say”

- Sam puts a hand on his chest “best behavior baby, I promise” Jack looks her up and down and tips her chin up for a kiss “don’t believe that for one second” but he has to bite back a smirk

- Parker feels a little out of place at first, like the little sister just tagging along

- Yolanda takes care of that quick tho because she is the friend that can drag you into anything. Good, bad or otherwise.

- Emery has been at PTMC the longest so she gives Parker all the tea. Who’s sleeping with who, who used to sleep with who, who wants to sleep with who. Who costs the hospital the most in malpractice litigation. Who had to retake their boards and how many times. Why Langdon is so bitchy.

- They have a firm no work talk policy apparently but they make an exception the first night because there’s a lot they need to o catch her up on.

- It’s eye opening

- It’s informative

- It’s like cheat codes to the hospital

- Parker learns that Sam used to work as a PRN nurse at the Pitt (second job before she got promoted to charge nurse at the VA) which explains a lot about her relationship with everyone.

- She doesn’t remember the last time she had this much fun and it makes Parker feel a little warm and fuzzy when Emery adds her to a group chat so they can do it again soon

- They stay out until closing time and at the end of the night when Sam snatched the bill and dropped a card on the tray that very clearly had Jacks name on it she must catch the nervous look on Parker’s face because she laughs “told you you’re his favorite”

~~~~~~~~~~~

A part of the Save Me From Myself universe!

[reidsprettygirl]

RIDE OR DIE — /A. HOTCHNER/

SUMMARY: You, a street racer, gets questioned by the feds about murders that are linked to your illegal racing feud. You refuse to cooperate, & they threaten to arrest you but you know they won't.

hotch x fem!street racer!reader ⸝⸝ slow burn & flangst ⸝⸝ enemies to lovers ⸝⸝ non established relationship

WARNINGS: mentions of murder, use of y/n, typical cm violence, blood, gunshot wounds and being tied up.

DANI'S NOTES: heh,, trigger's based off of someone that i actually know,, bare eith me cause i wrote most of this when i was sleepy idk if im cooking,, i saw a pretty lady on a motorbike and i thought of this when i was walking home,, heh your friends' names are kenzie and jay,, sorry i dont make the rules (yes i do)

W/C: 2k+ (ik i surprised myself there too)

The scent of gasoline and smoke reaches to Hotch and Rossi, they both cover grimaced at the scent as they observe the place. It was an abandoned ship yard that was turned into a makeshift race track.

Hotch hated the smell and the environment.

He notices a few glances from the men and women surrounding the place, before some people actually realize what's happening and sneakily made a run for it. You weren't that far, you were leaning on your motorbike, your foot on the foot peg, and you were lazily holding on to your helmet with two fingers as you talked to your friends.

A breeze flew by, your hair flowing with the wind. You seemed to have no care what was going on around you.

"Y/N L/N?" Rossi spoke up as they both approached you, you turn around to face them with a raised eyebrow before they flashed their badges. "We're Agents Rossi and Hotchner."

Your friends looked at eachother before they stepped back, giving you space and leaving you behind witth the agents. You immediately clear your throat as you put your helmet on your motorbike.

"Well, shit." You scoffed as you crossed your arms as you exhaled. "You gonna drag me in for all kinds of exhibition of speed?" You roll your eyes at the two of the agents.

"Actually, you're associated with two of our victims, in fact, you were last seen with the both of them. And when we checked their belongings in their car, both had a photograph of you and said victims." Rossi explains as he puts his badge back in his pocket.

"A lot of people have a crush on me, it's a curse of being incredibly hot." You joke nonchalantly as you shrugged at his implication.

Hotch didn't even blink before he started to speak again, "You were cited for numerous cases of exhibition of speed last month."

You shrug your shoulders at his words, "So what? I've got fans and a rap sheet. You want a cookie for that discovery?"

Rossi's lips twitched as he sighed sharply, meanwhile Hotch's gaze never left you. You could feel the weight of his stare, and you would be lying if you said you weren't nervous or attracted to him.

"You run this circuit, you know who's dealing, who's fixed and who's angry, so I suggest you start talking." Hotch says as he maintains eye contact with you.

"I don't know who's killing people if that's what you're talking about, Agent." You sigh as you continued. "And i'm not really interested in helping you."

"We could charge you with obstruction of justice right now." He threatens, staring daggers right at you.

"Try me. I'll get bailed out by Kenzie and Jay anyway." You counter.

Rossi gave a humorless, quiet chuckle as he looked at Hotch. "She's not afraid, Hotch."

"She isn't because she thinks this is a game." He replies to Rossi.

"I don't think it's a game." You scoff as you corrected, "Look, I get that people that are affiliated with street racing are dying but have you thought about actually catching the fucking killer? You're wasting your time darling." You say as you turned around to grab and put on your helmet, nodding to your friends who were now retreating to their vehicles to follow you.

Hotch just nodded to Rossi before they retreat to the black SUV that was not far behind them and drive back to the local precinct. But before Hotch gets in the vehicle he glances at you one more time as you put on your helmet and race out of the area, the loud sound of you and your friends' engines slowly grows quiet.

A few hours go by, and you found yourself sitting in an interrogation room like you owned the place. Your feet were on top of the table, your head was looking up at the ceiling, staring like you were bored. Maybe because you are bored.

You maintain this position until you hear the door creaking open, your head now faced towards the door, and you see Hotch.

"Feet off the table." Hotch says as he sat down right in front of you.

"Wow, I certainly missed you too." You tease as you didn't bother to change the position of your feet.

"You ever think about cooperating?" he asks as he opens the folder he has in his hands.

You leaned back as you set your feet off of the table, "You ever think of asking nicely?"

He didn't look up from the file, "You're not here as a guest. Three people are dead and two of them were associated with you. You're wasting time."

"You invited me," you scoff before flashing him a small smirk, "Is this not a date?"

Finally, he looked at you, not with anger, but with annoyance. Yes he was annoyed but you expected him to be mad.

"Cut the act," he said. "Tell me why I shouldn't charge you with obstruction of justice?"

"Tell me why you haven't yet." You snap at him.

Hotch ignored your words, "Talk." He said.

You sigh in defeat as you shifted to a more comfortable position on your seat. "Theres a name." you disclosed.

"His alias is Trigger, but we don't know his real name. Never bothered telling us." You explain, "He automatically lost a race due to him getting caught by me, he was trying to sabotage my motorbike by trying to put the wrong type of oil in my engine and popping the tires. Nobody's seen him in months." You continued to elaborate your history with Trigger.

"But way before that, we were friends."

Hotch's brows twitched as he asked, "Has he threatened anyone?"

You sighed as you try to recall, before coming up with something. "Oh yeah, after he pulled that little stunt, with my motorbike, he was muttering on how he was gonna kill everyone." Hotch takes note of your words as he listens

"Tell me more about him." Hotch's hands were now together as he kept staring at you.

"He's unhinged," you muttered, "the type where he thinks revenge is some sort of power play.." you grimaced as you elaborated further.

"Help us find him," Hotch said. "Before another name ends up in the coroner's office."

You hesitated. Your mask slipped for the first time, and you hated it. You feared that you might get hurt, or worse— your friends get hurt.

Hotch notices the change in your behavior, "You don't strike me as someone who just stands by."

"Why do you care," you scoff "I'm not a victim."

"No, but you could be." He says with no hesitation,

Hotch leans back on his chair as he observes you.

"Are you profiling me, Agent Hotchner?" You ask as you raise an eyebrow.

"No, I'm just observing you." He comments on your assumption.

You scoff as you lean back in your chair, "All I know is that he lives in an apartment."

"Do you know the details?" He asks.

"I know the building, I just forgot the apartment number." Your fingers were now fidgeting with eachother as you disclosed more information, Hotch looks at you with a soft glint in his eyes.

"Thank you." He gave you the smallest smile— but hey, atleast it's better than nothing.

"Find the son of a bitch before he hurts me and my friends."

You were now standing. Standing in front of the pool of blood that belonged to your friends. Their dead bodies tied up and a gunshot wound to their head. Kenzie's laughter echoed in your ears, but you knew it was in your head.

You hear the sound of the doorknob behind you clicking, you immediately grab the crowbar that was near you, only for the door to reveal it was Hotch and a woman with black hair.

"Lower your weapon." Hotch says with a low and controlled tone as he slowly holsters his gun. You let go of the crowbar, the clanging noise echoed in the garage.

He approaches you slowly with concern, "Are you hurt?"

You snap out of your trance as you look at him, now processing everything. "Yeah." You spoke, your voice was hoarse and low.

Tears now prickle your eyes, "I was a few minutes late." You whisper to Hotch. He doesn't raise an eyebrow, but instead he listens.

"I was out grabbing food for them cause they wanted food— and then.." You sobbed, your hands make their way to your face to rub away the tears.

He doesn't say i'm sorry, cause he knows that you don't want it. "You're not safe here." He muttered to you.

You don't argue back, not this time. He guides you to the black SUV that they have and drive you to the local PD to put you in protective custody.

The drive to the PD wasn't loud, yet it wasn't quiet either. You were in the backseat as the woman who was sitting in the front seat, that you now identified as Prentiss was talking to Hotch.

The two of them escorts you to a room where it was closed and quiet, Prentiss left the two of you together after escorting you to the room.

"Do you think this is my fault?" You blurted as you sat down on the couch, your eyes lands on him.

"No." He answers as he observes you.

"I mean— I was the one that called him out, he hates me. He killed my friends, and people that knew me." You rambled.

"Your friends were killed by a psychopath that always had murder tendencies. You were simply just the trigger." He interrupts your rambling.

"So basically, my fault." You sigh. "Ironic how his name is trigger and I was his trigger." You tried to lighten the mood.

Your hands grip your knees, you hate how fragile you felt right now.

"I'm not built for this, I'm used to getting injured, but this?" you just chuckle, it wasn't a genuine one.

He sits on the chair next to the sofa you were sitting on. "You're stronger than you think."

You shook your head as you sniffled. "No. No, you don't know me."

"I feel like I'm starting to." He blurted, and this time there was something in his tone that catched you off guard. Soft, Honest, Warm.

You stare at him— You don't even realize it until a few seconds before you shook your head.

"We'll catch him." He assures.

You click your tongue, "Do you do this for everyone?" You ask.

He raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"You know, staying with a potential victim and engaging in small talk." You elaborate.

"Kind of." He shrugs as you chuckle at his answer.

"I thought you hated me." You blurted as you leab your back against the sofa.

"I never hated you." Hotch's expression shifts as he whispered to you.

You tilt your head at his words, "Really? Cause you were glaring daggers at me during the interview and our first meet."

"Interrogation habits." He stated as you hummed.

"Why is this happening to me?" You blurted once again.

Hotch doesn't answer, he just looks at you with sympathy.

"I'm so bad at expressing my feelings, sorry." You run your eyes, trying to rub away the tears that was prickling your eyes.

"You don't need to be sorry. You've lost your friends in a gruesome way and you're still coping." He comforts you with his words. "Feel free to just.. let it all out."

You close your eyes as tears start rolling down your cheek, what you didn't expect was his hand landing on your cheek to rub your tears away. He mutters a sorry to you, not out of sympathy but because he touched you.

"I don't.. I don't wanna be alone." You murmur to Hotch.

"You're not." He paused before continuing, "You should sleep." You nod as you lay on your side on the couch, Hotch was just on the chair beside you.

As you drift in your sleep, you realize something terrifying. You trust him now.

all rights reserved — © sugarydani

[izzyezalea]

My first fic! Please be kind 🩷

Smoke and Blood

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

- Friends to Lovers

The street was a proper warzone—half the buildings shelled to shit, the sky thick with black smoke and tracer fire. You could barely see ten feet ahead without catching a mouthful of soot. Task Force 141 had been split after the ambush near Al Mazrah, and now it was just you and Ghost, moving through the smouldering wreckage with death breathing down your necks.

"Oi, keep low," Ghost muttered over comms, crouched beside a burnt-out lorry. “Sniper’s got eyes on this stretch. We move on my mark.”

You gave a silent nod, pressing your back to the brickwork, heart hammering. Your M4 was slick with sweat and grime, and the blood on your sleeve wasn’t all someone else’s.

“Three tangos up ahead,” you whispered. “Rooftop, one with a Dragunov.”

Ghost peeked, then ducked back. “Cheeky bastard’s about to lose his head.”

And like that, he was up—two shots from his suppressed rifle, and one poor sod toppled off the edge like a sack of bricks. You took the second shot. A clean one. Right through the eye. The third bloke legged it before he joined his mates.

“Move!” Ghost barked, and you were off, boots hammering pavement, weaving through alleys.

Every time you glanced his way, he was right there. Same brutal precision, same steely focus. But lately, something different lingered beneath that skull-painted mask—a softness, a tension that had nothing to do with the battlefield.

You burst into a half-collapsed flat, took a breath, and turned to him. “You alright?”

“I’m peachy,” he said, sarcasm dry as sandpaper. “You?”

“Still breathing.”

He looked at you for a beat longer than usual. “Don’t go getting dead on me. I’ve not got the patience to drag your arse outta here.”

You smirked. “Who said you’d have to?”

He rolled his eyes behind the mask, but there was a flicker of something else there—relief.

But there wasn’t time to dig deeper. Another blast rocked the street. A nearby building caved in with a thunderous crash, sending chunks of concrete raining down.

“Down!” Ghost shoved you hard, and you hit the floor just as the shockwave rolled through. Dust filled your lungs. Ears ringing. You scrambled to your feet, coughing, eyes stinging.

“Ghost?!”

No answer.

You found him slumped against the wall, blood trailing from a nasty gash above his eye. He blinked slowly, dazed.

“Bloody hell…” he groaned.

“You with me?”

“Barely. Feel like I got snogged by a sledgehammer.”

You knelt, ripping open your medkit. “Sit still, I’ve got you.”

He hissed as you pressed a bandage to the wound. “Not the gentle type, are ya?”

“You want gentle, find a nurse.”

You felt his gaze on you—heavy, unreadable.

“You’re good at this,” he said, quieter.

You shrugged. “You learn fast when the alternative is bleeding out.”

He grabbed your wrist gently. “You scared?”

You paused. “Of dying? No. Of you dying? Every damn second.”

That silenced him. The tension between you was a live wire now, snapping and sparking in the thick air.

“Look,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life. You know that. But you—you’re the one thing that cuts through the noise. I can be knee-deep in bodies, and somehow I still see you. Hear your voice.”

You blinked. “Simon…”

“I’ve been meaning to say this, but this bloody war keeps gettin’ in the way.”

He pulled his mask up just enough to show his mouth—lips chapped, a scar curling along his jaw—and leaned in.

“I love you,” he said, simply. No fluff. No hesitation.

You didn’t think. You kissed him—tasted ash, blood, desperation—but beneath it all, you tasted him. Real. Alive.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. But it was everything you’d been too afraid to want.

When you broke apart, you rested your forehead against his. “I love you too.”

A siren blared in the distance. The evac.

“Time to finish this,” you said, gripping your rifle again.

“Right behind you,” he murmured, mask sliding back into place.

And you fought.

Fought like demons, side by side, tearing through enemy lines with ruthless efficiency. Covered each other like muscle memory. Every move synced. Every shot clean.

At one point, you took a round to the arm—white-hot agony tearing through your bicep—but you kept going. You had to.

Because Ghost was still breathing. And as long as he was, so would you.

When you finally reached the exfil point, bloodied and battered, the chopper blades were already kicking up dust. Soap was shouting through the headset, Price barking orders.

But all you heard was Ghost beside you, panting, alive.

You collapsed into the bird, shoulder to shoulder. Bruised. Exhausted. Alive.

And when the doors shut and the chaos was left behind, he leaned into you and whispered, “You’re mine now. No more running.”

You smiled, head resting against his shoulder.

“No more running.”

[alexanderlightweight]

Hullo! I hope all is well in the household and I hope Nightshade is getting all the (undoubtedly well-deserved) scritches and nose boops they deserve! :)

I've been happily re-reading a lot of your fic recently - I *adore* your writing and the dynamic you create between Alec and Magnus. I don't care what the plot is- I'll read anything you write because I know the characterization is going to be *chef's kiss* amazing!

After your fantabulous sentinel/guide promptlet that just posted, I went to re-read 'fire in his veins', your sentinel/guide AU on a03, and omg this section in particular just made me stop and live in the moment before continuing (I hope that makes sense outside my head). >> He has no right to defend himself and they both know it.  

He would apologize, but he would have to mean it. He would have to be sincerely sorry and he isn’t.  

He stays silent.  

For the first time in his life he faces death and regrets that life might end.

There is a low snarl, an enraged noise and he closes his eyes.  Acceptance is in every line body as he relaxes to meet his fate and a hot, rough tongue catches across his cheek as it brushes away a tear he didn’t realize he’d shed.  <<

If you have the dreamling for anything more in the sentinel/guide AU, whether 'fire in his veins' or 'gladiolus', I would very much love to read it :)

(no preference on nsfw/sfw)

ty!! it seems to be a steadying time finally? maybe? I feel like every time I say that something bad happens lol so I hesitate

Nightshade is getting all of the cuddles and noseboops and treats and had been very spoiled as of late. I mean he's always spoiled but we found some beef cheek rolls he loves and they make him super happy and help with his teeth which is nice!

i hope you are doing well and well, here is a very rare pov, one i'm not sure i've done before but I might have. uh, so I realize it could have easily been missed. part of why it was so easy for Alec to detach from the clave is because currently, aldertree is in charge. aldertree just isn't a guide/sentinel and has no way of legally blocking a powerful sentinel from visiting a place technically in his territory. Alec is also technically in a very odd position because Aldertree needs him around but also can't give him too much power because then no one will actually listen to aldertree. so I hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

-

heartbeat like fire

Aldertree reads the message and then the official file attached to it one more time before he sighs, sitting back at his chair and wondering just how he’s going to spin this latest outcome.  There aren’t many choices left to him and the more time that passes, the more his options become limited.

It would be one thing if he could cover it up, but Alec Lightwood didn’t just send his resignation to Aldertree, he sent it to the Clave pride and the Clave.

Worse, Aldertree knows they’ll blame him. Say that it’s his fault and that it’s his fault he lost the Clave a guide.

Especially once they find out that Lightwood’s a guide strong enough to bond with Magnus Bane.

The High Warlock of Brooklyn has been a pain in Aldertree’s ass since he got here, but now just took the one person who Aldertree’s unfortunately been relying on to actually run this hellhole.

Oh, the New York Institute is a fine place. Full of well-trained and capable shadowhunters, but it’s a beast to keep track of, run and also maintain the angelic core. Aldertree won’t stay here long term, but without Lightwood helping run the place, he’ll need reinforcements.

Except, Aldertree isn’t sure how much he’ll be able to get away with Lightwood leaving.

Already Aldertree has been fighting back a lingering headache since he got here and took over. But now, since what Aldertree assumes is the minute Lightwood cut his ties and left the Institute — it turned into a full blown migraine.

 Lightwood grew up in this Institute. 

Aldertree and several others in his research divisions have seen patterns and it's rare that nephilim children are fully raised in an Institute. It affects them, especially un-awakened or latent children.

However with the way the Lightwood punishment worked, someone with their name and blood had to stay with the Institute in order for any other’s to go back to Idris. That means that it was the eldest who was left, often and longer and longer and now, the signs are here.

For whatever reason, he’s fairly sure that  the angelic core latched onto Lightwood’s psionic energy.  Enough that it satiated it and also Lightwood then automatically shielded the rest of the Institute from the normal side-effects of such a powerful core  at the same time.

Aldertree wonders if the relationship between the two was symbiotic, or parasitic.

They both mean things different things regarding Lightwood’s power and Aldertree doesn’t like either option.

 —

With the rest of the world locked away, behind magick and psionic shields, Magnus sheds all his glamours and clothes.

He gets Alexander on his bed and pinned and then reality presses hard against him.

Despite the urge to bond, Magnus suddenly needs both himself and Alexander clean before they do.

Especially now that the Institute is a hostile territory and they’re both covered in scents from it. Even the bed will need to be changed with magic after they shower, their combined scents not enough to calm Magnus as he suddenly feels as if his territory has been invaded.

It’s always bothered Magnus, how Alexander smells like the Institute but now, he has reason to erase those scents. Preventing them from ever clinging to his boy again.

"You can you know."

Alexander is still pinned and his hands are gentle from where he's cradling Magnus' face between his palms.

"You can and should do whatever is going to make you feel the most settled. Protecting us both will only help you settle."

With permission he didn't need but desperately wanted from both Alexander and his own instincts, Magnus takes a moment to listen to Alexander's heartbeat.

It's soothing and steady and he focuses on that feeling as he moves the location of the loft and activates the war-level wards on the building they move to.

All evidence of their presence in the place they left is gone.

Magic turns the water on and Magnus wastes no time in pulling Alexander up from the bed through the room and directly under the spray and before he even asks, Alexander is plucking the soap up and lathering it.

He wastes no time in scrubbing himself down as if he wants to scrub the Institute away as well. It’s only because the sight is so mesmerizing that Magnus wastes long moments where he could be washing Alexander himself.

A moment later, he pulls Alexander’s hands away and replaces them with his own. The feeling of bubbles lathering on the skin of Alexander’s back is intoxicating and for a moment, Magnus gets lost in the way his callouses catch on scars and pass over smooth muscles.

Alexander’s breath hitches as Magnus pushes too hard on a deep bruise and Magnus apologies with a kiss and magic, further healing the tender muscle even as Alexander presses back into his touch.

AN:

i can't write bonding sex on the same section as victor aldertree apparently. I was going to but I was like... they need decontamination. clearly. btw not mentioned here but right now Cahya and Bela

i actually have to change the ending on ao3 a bit to fit this better because I realized Magnus would want them to be safe and protected before they bonded.

[nquesoxlies]

Just had a thought about some of the reactions for 8x16.

Personally, I loved the episode. Often times, when a character is killed off in a show, the show flounders a bit in the aftermath. But I think they honored Bobby so well with this episode. And no we didn't see everyone's grief up front and center, but it was still there. Even Eddie with his 2mins of screen time is clearly grieving. We're catching them two weeks post death so the immediate emotionality is definitely not as sharp, but it's definitely still there. No one is okay and if anyone thinks they are, then they weren't paying attention.

Leaving aside that so many people had convinced themselves Bobby was still alive, a lot of people have issues with the episode's focus on just Athena and Chim and it hit me that it isn't just because their favorite character didn't display grief the way they wanted them to or because they weren't the focus, it's at least partially because they're realizing that actually 8x17 and 8x18 is still going to be about the grieving process and the show isn't moving past Bobby's death onto something else.

Now those of us that read Tim's interviews know that's why he placed the death in 8x15, and while we won't know until the end of 8x18 if he nails the aftermath, so far it seems like he is. But he gave himself three episodes to see where everyone lands after the death...the funeral has just taken place, none of them are over losing Bobby and we'll see that focus shift to the other characters even while Athena and Chim will probably still be prominent.

Now I'm not saying it will all be about Bobby, but that will hang heavy over everything and we'll see how everyone is dealing. So yeah, Buck wasn't crying all over the place...but he also was still upset. So was Hen. So was Ravi. So was Eddie. So was Maddie. So was Karen. So was Tommy.

And while Buck and Tommy could get back together in the middle of this because that's what the show is showing and telling us could happen, buddie canon S8 is dead in the water (I mean, when wasn't it).

Bobby's death didn't magically make Eddie realize he's gay. It also didn't magically make Eddie in love with Buck. It definitely didn't have Buck realizing anything about his friendship with Eddie. And without that, of course some parts of this fandom hate the episode and hate that any time was given to Tommy or to Athena's investigation into that baby's death or even to Chim, and definitely to Gerrard. Bobby's death could have been acceptable to them if it was the way buddie got together, but since that didn't happen suddenly it's a waste of an arc and this is not the show that kills off characters.

If we had had even one scene where Eddie and Buck do just about anything together this would have been the best episode ever. Instead, the show decided to not do that and also to not have Buck and Tommy interact. They clearly said this is not about ships, it's about Bobby. Notice how BTs by and large have not had any issue with that at all even while some still have doubts about if Buck and Tommy will get back together. I haven't seen one person say that they wished they had interacted.

Like, we genuinely do not know with 100% certainty that Tommy will be in either 8x17 or 8x18. We can hope that's the case, but we have no real proof. We do know Eddie is in both episodes. So while I get some of the ire at Eddie having so little screentime as a main character, this episode was about Bobby and Athena and also Chim. And it seems like we'll get more about everyone else in the coming episodes.

So to see people upset that this single episode didn't dwell into everyone's grief...it does make me wonder how much that's about them not caring about Bobby enough to want it to carry into two more episodes because they have some hope that something else -something they want - might happen. And those hopes have been dashed.

Yes, Annie! All of this. Your last paragraph?? That's 100% what is happening.

[greeniscosmic]

MY UNORGANIZED THOUGHTS ON THE TOMMYINNIT SURVIVAL TOUR:

⚠️ SPOILERS BELOW ⚠️

before the show, i saw a technoblade cosplayer walk in!!! they weren't part of the show or anything, they were just an audience member, but, GOD it was awesome. i just wanted to give a shout out to them bc i genuinely thought their cosplay was really cool :)

someone held up a schlanket, some other people held up rammies, and other people held up tommy's merch. we all cheered when this happened. peace and love on planet mcyt ❤️

now onto the show itself:

tommy had a fake invisible girlfriend throughout the whole show. i think it was actually a commentary on The Voices in Le Head, but my friend thinks it was more of a spongebob bubble buddy scenario. (now that i think about it, i feel like she might be right)

a lot more audience interaction than i was expecting!!! i was half expecting tommy to walk around the auditorium and quip with people individually, but i was SO FUCKING GLAD he quiped with the audience as a whole. i would've killed myself in front of him if he ever even attempted pointed a microphone in my face.

(he did quip with people individually, but only with the people in the very front. everyday i thank the Lord.)

"im half white. other half? also white." PEAK CINEMA ✋️😑🤚 WORLD CHEERS 👏👏👏 EVERY DISASTER ENDS

"i'm asain. caucasian!" WHITE BABY YOU CANNOT BE SAYING THESE THINGS

side note, getting a crowd of people to cheer for a white boy on the second day of AAPI month is crazy fucking work. sick and twisted of tommy for stealing the show and we should cancel him immediately. slash j as the kids say.

DEAFENING CHEER FOR SCHLATT HOLY SHIT (im guilty of this too lmao)

schlatt repeatedly called us all gay and woke. baseball, huh?

the guy that shouted "bababooey" and got noticed by schlatt himself 😭😭😭

speaking of heckling, THE ACEDENTAL MINOR JOKE??? DID ANYONE CATCH THAT ON CAMERA OR IS IT DOOMED TO DETERIORATE SLOWLY IN MY BRAIN

here's what i remember about that joke specifically: tommy asks something (i forget what). someone in the crowd shouted "MINORS" and tommy goes "ye- NO 😨". crowd laughs, and tommy says something like, "that's gonna make this next part real awkward lmao"

schlatt flirts with a chair. i'm sure some people in the audience creamed their pants.

tommy made schlatt do what was essentially The Pacer Test on stage. go white boy go!!! (i have footage of this btw. i heart watching him suffer for my entertainment ❤️)

that's all i remember for now. i'll post more if i remember anything else!!!

at one point in the show, schlatt and tommy just started chugging water bottles and popping the caps off while the whole crowd cheered them on??? that wasn't even in the script btw. they just started doing that shit 😭😭😭