#hence my displeasure.

[blackwaxidol]

i do not understand the concept of an inner child. i say this before, i know.

the few people i am familiar with from afar as peddling the inner child are psychologically stunted or otherwise emotionally immature adults older than me, ergo i do not regard the indulging of this concept as one that appears at all very useful because through all the chances it has had it has not once convinced me of its usefulness to the mind.

"healing your inner child"...

i am not convinced that you will reach a point wherein you buy enough items, watch enough films, and perform enough rituals to become reified and "whole". i think it is pointless busywork that you have been fed as "healing". if you have issues with your childhood, you will not fix yourself with this.

this is not to say you as an adult cannot enjoy things, what i am rather saying is that it makes for useless psychological praxis, you cannot turn your brain off—act passively—and hope that it becomes okay. your docile inner child cannot fix you by feeding it like a dragon. you cannot substitute self-improvement with the frequent placation of an "inner child" nor should you be convinced that this is all that needs to occur in order to fix yourself.

[shortestcake]

SAFE WITH HER

(oneshot)

Pairing: Abby x reader

Pronouns used: she/her

Gendered terms: girl

Genre: angstish+fluff

// Owen(gross), description of violence / very mild gore

It was no secret that Abby was fiercely protective of the people she cared about, naturally assuming a guardian-like role. And when it came to you, that instinct intensified tenfold.

It could range from subtle things, such as a careful but shielding hand on the small of your back or around your waist when the two of you weren't in the comfort of your room. Or less subtle things, like her straight up refusal to you going on patrol without her.

Even before you two were together, she insisted on accompanying you on every patrol, unable to trust anyone else with your safety.

Her constant presence during your outings made this all the more terrifying. This was your first patrol without her in nearly three years, and every step you took made you want to scamper back to base. You knew you were competent—Abby knew this too—but it didn't make any of the situation feel any less wrong.

"Listen, you and Owen know the area the best, I need my most capable people for this. These items are no joke."

On top of it all- he just had to partner you up with Owen for this.

He told you about how there's an emergency trip he wanted done by you. There was an extreme medical supply shortage, he thought he'd be able to hold it off for about another month or so but was proven wrong.

"I wouldn't be asking you if I had better options, I know Abby won't be too happy with me when she finds this out." She, Manny, and Nora had been on their own reconnoitering trip for a week before this; hence why she couldn't join you instead of—or at least alongside—Owen.

As much as you hated to admit, Isaac was right. So you begrudgingly obliged and started preparing soon after, since it was a spontaneous patrol rather than the typical planned ones.

A few days later, your beloved girlfriend returned from her stupidly long journey. You'd usually already be waiting for her the second she walked in. When she didn't spot you immediately, she didn't take it personally, making her way to your shared 'apartment', solely wanting to melt in your embrace after a difficult ten days. Along the way, everyone she met paths with lacked both the heart and the courage to tell her you wouldn't be waiting for her when she reached her destination.

"Baby? I'm back." She spoke softly upon entering your shared space, but said space now felt empty and lifeless. Abby's only companion was a small note you had left on her nightstand. It was short and sweet- explaining the situation to her, complaining about it, and then doing your best to reassure her in written words.

But your gentle words did little to ease her. Saying she was pissed was an understatement, she nearly stormed up to Isaac to tell him off for going against their agreement. But she caught herself, knowing it would accomplish nothing. Even so, she made no effort to hide her displeasure for the rest of the day, shooting him a glare that could cut through steel whenever he was in view. The helplessness of waiting, unable to do anything but sit and pray to any deity that might listen for your safety, was driving her crazy.

The weight of uncertainty hung heavy on her shoulders, amplifying her anxiety with each passing hour. Some might call her dramatic, you'd been able to hold your own before, you'd be able to hold your own now. But that didn't change the fact she didn't trust others with your life, especially Owen, of all people. He wasn't necessarily a bad partner, however, he was definitely when it came to you. It wasn't a secret that the two of you never really got along. And that could only add to the whiplash of how seamlessly teamwork flowed between you and Abby.

The next day, which you estimated would be your last one on patrol, you and Owen were on your way back, only a few hours away from base. The air was thick with anticipation, and every minute felt like an hour.

"If you just—no, give it to me," you snapped, snatching the map from his grip. You mumbled under your breath about his incompetence, frustration bubbling to the surface.

"So fuckin' prissy," he rolled his eyes, the disdain in his voice unmistakable.

"Yeah, 'cause you're such a delight to be around," you scoffed, barely holding it together after the past few days of dealing with him. The tension between you had been simmering, and it seemed on the verge of boiling over. He shot back another snarky comment, and you retorted with your own. The back-and-forth bickering served as a temporary distraction from your surroundings.

The landscape outside blurred as you focused on the argument, each exchange of words feeling like a small release of pent-up stress. But the sharp crack of gunfire abruptly shattered your argument, the sound slicing through the air with terrifying clarity. Your heart jumped into your throat. Perfect, a fucking ambush.

Surprisingly, the threat forced you both to act in sync. Owen's foot slammed on the gas pedal, and the car surged forward. You quickly leaned out the window, scanning the area for targets. Your senses sharpened, the adrenaline coursing through your veins heightening your awareness. Despite being outnumbered, the speed and protection of the car gave you a fleeting sense of advantage. For a moment, you almost believed you had the upper hand.

You should've known better than to get ahead of yourself.

Your body reacted before your mind could process what had happened. Your muscles tensed involuntarily, and your gun slipped from your grip, clattering onto your lap. A sharp, involuntary gasp escaped your lips as the shock set in. "Shit—fuck," Owen muttered under his breath, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tighter, accelerating even more. The car lurched forward, tires screeching against the ground as he pushed it to its limits, trying to outrun the danger.

Then the pain hit, a searing agony radiating from the right side of your neck and spreading through every nerve in your body. It felt like fire, intense and all-consuming, making you momentarily dizzy. You pressed a trembling hand to your neck, your fingers coming away slick with blood. You’d been shot. The bullet had grazed your neck.

You weren't sure if you were lucky or unlucky—the bullet had only scuffed your neck, just a few centimeters deep. It hurt like hell and limited your movement, but it hadn't damaged your vocal cords or vital blood vessels. The realization brought a mix of relief and dread, the pain clouding your thoughts. You did your best to stay up and alert, but the adrenaline started fading, and your exhaustion caught up. Slowly, your head lulled and the world went black.

"And you didn't fucking think to patch her up?" Muffled screaming was all you heard when you woke up.

"Up already?" Nora's unmistakable voice asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "Well, I'm glad. She's been having a meltdown since you got back." The woman gestured towards the door, where you could still hear screaming from outside the room.

"So, you got shot." She started with the obvious. "It's nothing major—or shouldn't have been." Her voice was laced with slight annoyance. "Owen drove nearly two hours with you bleeding out beside him. Even with a small wound, it did some extra damage." She explained the do's and don'ts, giving you a little rundown of what you were in for.

"I'll bring Abby here, let her know you're awake and all," Nora said, patting your arm gently. You nodded, as much as you could manage. "Thanks a lot, Nora."

"'Course," she replied with a smile before opening the door. "Hey, your girl's up," was the last thing you heard before Nora was out of view and Abby rushed in.

When her all-too-recognizable form bustled to your side, you sat up properly, extending your arms for a long-overdue hug. At first, Abby wanted to examine you, to make sure you were alright, before allowing herself to indulge in the much-needed affection she craved from you. She hesitated, her eyes scanning for any signs of distress or pain. But the sweet look on your face when your eyes met, and your eagerness to just hold her, made her decide it was alright to give in to her wants. With a soft sigh, she melted into your embrace, wrapping her strong arms around you tightly, both of you savoring the comforting warmth of being together again.

After a few moments of satisfying each other's need for tenderness, you both let go, though she kept her hands on you, moving them to your shoulders. Her left hand slowly and ever so gently inched up your neck, studying the bandages wrapped around your wound.

"I'm fine, really. Nora did a good job patching me up," you reassured her with a smile, moving your own hand to rest on hers. You softly caressed up and down her arm, trying to comfort her. Her eyes were filled with concern, but your touch seemed to ease some of her worries.

"If I was there…" she started, but you didn't let her finish, pressing a gentle kiss on her lips. "I know, I know. I didn't like being out without you either, but I'm all good, 'kay?" The look on her face told you she wanted to say more. To tell you that it's not okay because she should've been there, to protect you. Instead, she settled on, "Owen's a dumbass." Which caused you to start giggling.

"Yeah, he really is," you agreed, the tension breaking as you both shared a lighthearted moment.

Abby stared at you laughing, it felt like a weight had just been lifted off her chest and she could finally breathe again. She leaned down, her blonde strands tickling your face slightly while she pressed gentle kisses to your lips and cheeks.

You let yourself soak in the quiet aftermath, in the adoration and security she showered you in. Finally safe in Abby's arms.

Yes, I'm back, again. Hope you guys missed me cause I missed you, might open requests soon too!

[yourmomwhitediamond]

hi hi!

i was thinking maybe you could write something carmilla x reader? hear me out on this one, she seems to me like that kind of person to just wrap her hands around their partner wherever they are? like: a meeting? hand on leg. calm evening in the kitchen? hands around our waist. maybe it’s just me but carmilla in my head loves to just touch us showing who we belong to😭 and most of the time it’s not even in a sexual way just… because

anyway! have a good day/night darling!:)

Yes! Those big hands of hers would be the best for cuddling. Just one would cover half of someone's body! A super clingy overlord who's gotta make sure her gf is in her sight and safe at all times 🙏 (not in the unhealthy relationship way)

I write so many different versions of the requests I get, hence why it takes me so long. This is the one out of three I liked the most, so enjoy my dear!

Warnings: Slight mention of nsfw if you squint and just pure fluff!

Normally Carmilla would find you fast asleep or half awake in the warm comfort of her embrace. Yet sometimes you would slip out from her loving arms and get yourself ready for the day ahead before even she could wake. And it was one of those mornings today. With her eyes still shut tight she blindly reached out in search of your smaller figure. All her hands found was the cold empty side of your bed which made her huff.

"Morning sleepy head" You greeted, glancing at Carmilla through the mirror in front of you.

"Mi amor?" She propped herself up on her elbows groggily. After giving her tired eyes a rub she spotted you sitting at the vanity, styling your hair,"You left me"

You stifled a laugh, you wouldn't be surprised if she was pouting. Whilst you continued to comb through your hair and ignore her childish whine you heard the shuffling of bed sheets followed by footsteps. A moment later you looked up in the mirror, finding Carmilla standing over you. Her arms draped over your shoulders and her chin rested on the crown of your head.

"Carmilla" You sighed, lowering your comb. There was no way you could finish your hair with her head on yours.

"Yes?" She hummed and closed her eyes. Your body was pulled back flush up against her chest. Her entire body weight was being pressed onto you. No offence to her, but she was heavy, you could barely sit upright and by the looks of things she had no plans to get off of you. You were trapped, her hands had you imprisoned, covering your entire torso. Any other time you'd allow her to hold you like this, but unfortunately there wasn't much time for it. A meeting with the other overlords was due in an hour.

"We have a meeting" You remind her and she huffed. She was reluctant to let go, but after thinking things over she kissed you on the head and released you to go on about her morning routine. She made sure to display her displeasure with sighs, groans and slothful movements. Rather than feeling guilty, which was the whole point of this behaviour, it was rather comical. The scowl on her face was just so cute!

She made sure to hold you close as you went from your bedroom to the boardroom despite her grumpiness. You settled down in your dedicated seat and so did Carmilla, choosing the more comfortable alternative to walking back and forth. She was discreet with the way she touched you, wanting to maintain her professionalism as she presented. Her hand was on your knee at first, rubbing soft circles on it. Then she moved onto your thigh, ever so gently kneading it.

At this point, it was a subconscious action. You never went long without her touch. She always found excuses. Sometimes she didn't even need them.

You listened intently to her and savoured the physical affection you were receiving. Soon your hand crept down under the table and took Carmilla's hand, intertwining your fingers. You caught her lips twitching up from the corner of your eye, a sign you were doing something right. With her hand held you ran your thumb across her palm like you'd usually do when you were alone. You traced the patterns and dips of her skin, making sure to cover the large surface.

Her hands were one of your favourite features. They were large, soothing, warm and...very skilled. You gave every part of it the same amount of attention, not leaving a single bit untouched by the end of the meeting.

When she finally wrapped the meeting up and watched the door close behind the last attendee she swooped you from your seat. You squeaked in surprise, grasping onto Carmilla as she placed you on the desk.

"We have time to ourselves now, mi amor" She smiled, watching her hands roam your body.

They drifted up and down, from your shoulders to your thighs. You smiled in return and leaned into her neck to kiss it. Carmilla crooned at the sensation of your lips against her skin and titled her head, urging you to continue. It was difficult to believe she was an overlord when she was like this. Such a cuddly sinner beneath that tough facade of hers.

After being with her for some time you realised what the reason behind her being so touchy was. Turns out it brought her a great deal of comfort, knowing you were there and not too far out of reach, that you were safe and sound by her side. It was also a stress reliever if you will. It kept her mind clear of all negative thoughts and was a way to help her concentrate. She also found out you struggled with your words and that you replaced them with featherlight kisses as well as the odd few gifts here and there which she had no complaints about.

"You have such a beautiful body" She uttered, unable to remove her hands from you. She reminded you of this whenever she got the chance, especially if you were having self-doubts. She would cling to you, complimenting every part of you verbally and physically until you admitted it.

"Thank you" Your voice matched her level and hummed when you felt her hands in your hair. You let her touch you freely and melted into her arms, knowing you were in safe hands. There were no lewd intents. If there were she would've acted already, with your permission of course. But no. This spare time was used for fond, loving touches only.

The dividers I used are from @saradika

[sunnynwanda]

HEYYYYYY 😨😭😘❤️🌝 (I have no idea either)

any chance u can do a snippet with a stubborn and arrogant villain x flirty hero (like the hero plays the chance of pissing of the villain in a teasing kind of way)

hope u have a great day 😇

Spicy margarita

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, slightly suggestive.

Receptions were always a pain. For some unfathomable reason, the mayor insisted on inviting all of the significant powers in the city and, much to Villain's dismay, their boss demanded on their attendance. Hence, the reason for Villain's foul mood. They disliked public events in general, but being forced to socialise while having to tolerate Hero's presence was unimaginable.

Hero was a handful, to say the least. The personification of perfection. The smartest, the kindest, the strongest... and the flirtiest. They knew they were charming and used it to their benefit when it came to the press - the journalists and citizens alike loved their bright smile and gleaming eyes, while Villain struggled to hide their disdain. Their boss claimed that their hatred painfully resembled infatuation, but Villain would be damned before admitting that. They were too stubborn for their own good, opting for arrogant remarks and ruthless mockery.

Villain shakes their head, releasing their frown and sipping their spicy margarita to get them through the night. They should stop thinking about stupid heroes and focus on maintaining a neutral facial expression. Another demand that was voiced by their boss for the evening.

Villain is seriously considering going freelance when an arm wraps around their waist, someone's firm body pressing into them from behind. They jump and jerk to turn around when a hot whisper stills them in place. Smirking lips brush against the shell of their ear, sending a shiver of displeasure down their spine.

"Hey babe," Hero drawls, their fingers trailing down the side of Villain's neck in a tender touch. Their chest is pressed flush against the expanse of Villain's stiffened back.

"Get. Off. Me." Villain almost growls, throwing their elbows back into Hero's stomach and delivering a punch to the guts. Hero stumbles back, a low chuckle slipping through their parted lips.

"Stop acting like you weren't waiting for me," they muse, the teasing tone obvious in their voice and the crinkling of their eyes when Villain whirls around to face them. "Those gorgeous eyes of yours kept scanning the room to find me."

"In your dreams," Villain groans, rolling their eyes despite finding Hero's persistence endearing. Their knuckles turn white from the grip of their glass.

"Oh, you're in my dreams, alright," Hero smirks and Villain is too stunned to react for a moment. Hero uses this to take their hand, dragging them towards the centre of the room. "Dance with me, babe."

"What?" Villain's voice is weak for their liking, but they blame it on the unexpected nature of the situation they found themself in. "Not a chance." They finally manage, looking anything but convincing.

"Oh, come on," Hero whines, pursing their lips into a pout as their arm returns to Villain's waist, drawing them closer to pry the glass out of their fingers and take a sip of their drink. "What's your poison? Margarita?"

"Spicy margarita," Villain corrects, quirking a brow when Hero drinks from their glass. They smirk, watching Hero struggle to hold back a cough. "Love the taste. And the lingering pain."

"Oh god," Hero wheezes, their eyes watering. They take a deep breath, trying to relax despite the burning sensation going down their throat straight to their chest. "You like it spicy, huh?" They choke out, earning an amused chuckle from Villain.

"As a matter of fact, I do," Villain admits, letting out a sigh of resignation to their circumstances when Hero starts swaying them to the music. Much to Villain's surprise, their nemesis is a great dancer. They almost growl at the revelation. Of fucking course, they'd be good at that too.

Hero gulps, their mind wandering at the rumbling sound, their fingers twitching to trail down Villain's spine. "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"You don't want to know what I'm thinking," Villain chuckles, baring their teeth and sending Hero's mind further down the gutter. Something about Villain messes with their brain in a way nothing ever has.

Hero's voice is low as they lean closer, whispering into Villain's ear, their lips brushing the base of Villain's jaw. "And what if I do, babe?"

Villain's eyes widen, their breath hitching in their throat at the heated whisper combined with Hero's arm tight around their body. And then the realisation hits them. "Are you flirting with me?"

"Did that penny finally drop?" Now it's Hero's turn to be amused. They lean back to put some distance between them and glance at Villain's positively lost expression. They must not be thinking straight, Villain thinks. Hero cannot be...

"I mean, it's only a joke," Villain's voice is incredulous as they process the implications of Hero's confirmation. Their mind races as their fingers wrap around Hero's wrist, guiding the glass to their lips to take a gulp, the taste burning their tongue in the most delightful of ways.

"I'm not joking," Hero mutters, their eyes searching Villain's face, gauging for a reaction. "I'm serious. Very serious."

"W-what?" Hero interrupts their stuttering reply, capturing Villain's lips with their own, their tongue delving into Villain's mouth. Their brain is overwhelmed by the spicy taste lingering on Villain's tongue, coating their own with the burning sensation, sending a shudder down their spine when Villain responds, cradling the back of their head and deepening the kiss.

Villain's mind is still in haywire when they pull away, meeting Hero's frantic gaze with their own.

"You're my spicy margarita, babe," Hero grins, their disgusting charming expression flooding Villain's chest with warm honey. "The taste and the pain."

A/N: Hey there, love! I gotta admit, that was adorable xD Oh yes, I absolutely loved this idea! Although, I still put my spin on it to give them a bit of a spicy moment :) Hope you enjoy this <3 Love you, Sunny xo

P.S. Yes, this was inspired by the song Spicy margarita by Jason Derulo and Michael Bublè (I'm shocked too lol).

Masterlist

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy @alltimelowing@lateuplight @surplus-of-sarcasm@betwist@excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers@miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon@burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney@thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode@villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Thirty-three

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: angst, smut, teasing, creampie

— WORDCOUNT: 2.7k

— TAGLIST: @esolean @localravenclaw @slytherins-heir

I

The room had quite a different quality when it was full, even if it was basically a hole carved underground. There was a buzz to it of excitement and intrigue which the presence of occult books and a few practitioners of it sprinkled among the bidders only added to. Among the veteran attendants, there was a murmur of unease, caused in no uncertain terms by the absence of Ambrogio. The lack of word from the Baron didn’t help. One friend of his, a man going by the name of signor Taurulus, had passed by his office and supposedly had seen him, hence why he was late, and reported that the Baron was alive and well but acting strange. He’d found him, he said, rifling through his office drawers and mumbling something about his secretary.

Tom moved through the auction hall with the crystalline authority of the only figure left with all the power — at least until she came downstairs. And she looked lovely when she arrived, if a little bit angry, but it only added to her charms. Brimming with nervous energy, too alert to be tired even at that hour, and dressed in her most fetching suit of charcoal grey and red, it took everything for Tom to keep his hands off her.

“They’re waiting,” he said as he greeted her in the antechamber.

“Oh my, am I late?”

“Not at all. Let them stew in their perfidy for a while longer.”

“Have they misbehaved?” she asked with a playful smirk.

“Quite terribly. All the time, in fact. So show them no mercy.”

“Would that it were so simple…”

“Why?” he asked, instantly suspicious. “Did any of them say anything to you? Perhaps as they came in?”

She wavered in the doorway beside him, seeming to struggle with herself. With the satisfied smile of someone who could read minds, Tom pressed her.

“Was it Malfoy?”

Her face fell, and he knew that he was right.

“Well… Not surprising,” said Tom as he got closer. His long fingers closed around her shoulders and squeezed with reassurance. “Then you had better give him what he wants.”

“Really?” she said with a heavy sigh, afraid and yet relieved at the unspoken permission.

“Yes. Oso did it all the time.”

“They say the Baron’s acting strangely… They were all asking me about him. You… you don’t suppose Mr. Malfoy’s to blame, do you?”

“He might be,” said Tom with a cocked brow and the appropriate amount of gravity. “All the more reason to just give him what he wants.”

“Tom… I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled, rubbing up and down her arms. “I’ll be here with you.”

“Promise?” she said, leaning in to hug him.

He took her in his arms and sighed but didn’t say a word.

II

The hollow shape of faces glanced up at her from the dark. All the light in the room was focused on her and the books and it made her feel alone and yet surrounded. Dominating the audience was a constant work in progress but they seemed to have become accustomed to behaving from previous auctions well enough that, even if they thought poorly of her presentation skills, they never showed their displeasure. Her voice stopped trembling after the first fifteen minutes and after that, she operated so automatically from her many days of training that she could hardly recall what she had said from one minute to the next.

She presented the books in the predetermined order, starting with the lower-valued ones for which there wasn’t much enthusiasm. But still there were bidders, and one by one the first batch were all sold. Greedy eyes shone up at her and the silence before the first person showed an interest was always filled with tension. She caught each bid in time, which was easy as they came in slower than expected, and while the first win caused a shiver of excitement to run through her it got less and less remarkable as the night went on. It became no different than dealing with her customers upstairs. She could almost say she was proud of herself…

Her gaze at one point caught Tom’s, standing at the side behind the curtains next to a crate of books, and suddenly everything felt more real. She felt like part of it all, and her place upon the stage — in front of everyone, drawing their attention — suddenly made her feel powerful rather than afraid.

“Going once, fair warning, everyone, at one hundred twenty-five thousand, going once. Going twice. Sold! To Signor Luce. Congratulations, sir.”

Tom quickly stepped behind her to take the book and get it ready for its owner backstage, only there was something doleful in the way he looked at her. She knew at that moment that they had to speak in private.

“We will take the fifteen-minute interlude now,” she announced. “Please enjoy the hors d'oeuvres and refreshments.”

Approving murmurs and the shuffling of chairs filled the stuffy air. Smoke from their pipes and cigarettes covered the ceiling like a cloud, mingling with expensive perfume and cologne. As the wave of them shuffled to the tables with the wine and snacks a symphony of porcelain played as the backdrop to their chatter. And just when she slipped behind the curtains she caught from the corner of her eye the sight of Mr. Malfoy, his cold gaze fixed on her. She was all the more happy to finally be out of sight.

“How… how is it?” she asked Tom as she approached him. Her blood was running hot, her heart aflutter after all that talking, and she was nearly breathless.

Tom leaned casually against a messy desk stuck in the back. “You’re doing very well,” he said with a sad smile.

She wasn’t sure if he was being honest but he said all the words she yearned to hear. In a few long strides, she was already in his arms. The solid feeling of Tom’s body, his embrace encircling her, the steady breathing by her ear and his sweet scent of ink and paper was like a veil of calm. She let herself sink deeper, braced her chin over his shoulder, and brought her heart to rest with his. He held her tighter this time than he usually did and she couldn’t help but wonder what the reason for it was… Was it the auction? The finality of it? Was he really going to return to England after it was over, even if he didn’t have the book? Lately, Tom had seemed not to care about it. She’d been relieved at first but then, if he wasn’t staying in Italy for the sake of the book, why was he still there at all? It terrified her, the thought that she could lose him at any moment... She suddenly felt quite possessive, and sank her claws into his shirt, too afraid to speak.

In spite of her tight grip, Tom pulled away. He looked into her eyes as a boyish smile grew on his lips and for one frightening moment, she thought, as she had a few times before, that he could read her mind. That knowing look, that penetrating glance, it chilled her to the core. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss her cheek, and didn’t stop there. His lips travelled in a slow caress toward her lips and she received him, capturing his mouth and pulling him toward her with her arms around his neck. Tom moaned and gripped her hips and quickly changed their places, pushing her against the desk before beginning to tug her skirt a little higher.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she giggled, “I’ll have to go back soon.”

“You gave them fifteen minutes, right? Plenty of time.”

She groaned and closed her eyes, hating every part of it, hating what it made her think: that this was his apology for what he was about to do. Abandon her.

Tom’s hand didn’t stop until it reached her panties. She jumped when she felt him tugging them lower but then he pulled away and hastily loosened his belt. Trapped by his body and his incessant kisses she felt him pull his trousers down and then he quickly, clumsily, lifted her onto the table. His cold hands kept her legs spread and steadied her just on the edge of it as he brought his cock to her slit. She jumped a little as he toyed with her, slotting the head between her lips and rubbing her up and down, but he didn’t drag it on the way he did at home. Tom played at being casual about it but she felt the tension in his muscles and knew he was in just as much a hurry as her. With a smirk on his lips, he gathered just a bit of her wetness on his crown and roughly pushed inside.

“Aaah!”

“That’s it, good girl…”

“T-tom, not here…”

His arms encircled her, holding her close. With a teasing smile, his lips hovered over hers, loosely kissing now and then, his breath sliding into her mouth and sucking hers out in turn. She gripped him by the shoulders, her hands shaking with fear — at being heard, at being caught, and at her growing understanding that this must��ve been goodbye.

“Tom,” she moaned, “stop… I can’t go back out like this, they… they’ll notice.”

“You’ll just stand behind the podium,” he grinned, his voice a little breathless with each shove that brought him deeper into her.

She bit her lip at being spread open so quickly, at being forced to take him, but her core throbbed in delight. It loved being filled by him, loved the way he moved, the way he pulled out the best of her and made her forget the worst. She hissed when she felt him reach all the way in, tip nudging at her cervix, but Tom didn’t seem to care. He steadied his feet on the dusty floor and pulled his hips back gently, dragging his cock out and letting her sweet body suckle on it, then pushed inside with more strength than before. As she bit her lip and struggled to keep quiet his dark eyes searched hers, more sad and fragile than before. It was as if he tried to take her mind the same way that he took her body, desperate and needy, to take all of her for his own just one last time. She shook her head, tears beading at the corners of her eyes, and finally, her lips parted in a strangled moan.

Tom shook his head and smiled. “Don’t worry, my love. They can’t hear you,” he whispered.

But she could hear them. Their incessant chatter and fake laughter, the flattery and pomp, like a swarm of insects infecting dry old wood, and she could not get rid of their voices from her mind. But she knew that Tom was right… Rational, as always. So she swallowed the knot in her throat and the next time Tom thrust into her, taking her so hard the table scraped across the floor, she allowed herself to moan.

“There you are,” he groaned, a saccharine praise in his voice. “I do so love the way your voice sounds when you’re feeling pleasure… Give me more.”

She giggled, sounding almost drunk, and, feeling shy, she crushed her lips to his while Tom thrust deeper, pushing her just slightly higher on the table. He filled her up so much she felt him in her throat and with each thrust her core relaxed around him. She moaned against his lips when he stopped to grind against her, the root of his cock tickling her clit. It was as if her body, so cold in that underground hall in November, was being warmed from the inside out. She parted from his lips to gasp, head easing back against her shoulders, and Tom took the chance to kiss down her throat. Their slick coming together, flesh squeezing flesh in one heated, long embrace, filled the empty space around them with the sound of kissing, sucking, flesh dripping desire, against the backdrop of the guests chattering away.

“Tom,” she gasped, feeling her body tense and tighten, a heat rising from her womb up toward her frantic heart.

“I have you,” he whispered in her ear, holding her tighter, hands fisting in her jacket, hips snapping into her in a hard, relentless rhythm. “I have you… It’s safe and quiet here with me…”

She buried her face in his shoulder and groaned. Around his hips, her legs were shaking.

“Show me,” he murmured between kisses. “Show me how much you like that you’re mine.”

His words sunk into her as deeply as anything could. She felt weak and strong all at once and every feeling in her body grew, intensified. It burst in a harmony of creaks and distant mumbles, the scent of dust and parchment and Tom’s encouraging whispers, of flesh that clenched and pulsed and twitched together, blood flowing between tight layers of skin as one. He bit into her breast, just underneath the edges of her collar, and filled her with a warmth that cloyed her insides and made her feel all soft and drunk. She tugged on his dark messy hair and brought him up for kisses, burying a moan into his mouth, and Tom gladly took it. Her core clenched prohibitively tight and hugged him, holding him inside as deep as he could reach.

After a few gentle kisses, his lips soft and trembling on the corners of her mouth, hers on his cheek, his hands massaging up and down her taut tense back, he eased her to the floor. They breathed together, stood precariously together, and were so close they could see nothing but each other. Tom’s dark eyes were heavy-lidded and his gaze caressed her face much like his lips had done. For a few moments, while her heart tried to settle and she calmed, she allowed herself to become lost in them. Had he always been so beautiful? His lips so soft and pink, his lashes long and elegant almost like a girl’s… Perhaps she was still dizzy from her orgasm, but she felt like she could cry with grief for all the times she didn’t kiss him, didn’t caress his lovely face or hold his hand during his sleep… Tom smiled and gave her one quick peck on the tip of her nose, then checked his watch over her shoulder and sighed.

“Five minutes,” he mumbled.

He moved away from her and bowed to pick her panties from around her ankles. Gently, he dragged them up her legs and settled them back in their place, a naughty, possessive smile on his lips as he looked up at her. He was trapping his seed inside of her again… And like all those times before he rubbed her lower tummy in what, to her, seemed like a consoling way.

“Tom… darling…”

“That was ten minutes. A new record for us, I think,” he said as he got back to his feet.

“I… I look a mess, I can’t go back.”

“So don’t,” he shrugged.

“I have to.”

“So do.”

“You’re impossible,” she sighed, but couldn’t help but smile at the impish look upon his face. She was still completely mad with love for him.

Tom kissed her once again and smoothed down the ruffled shoulders of her jacket. “It will be alright,” he said, rubbing a finger on the corner of her mouth.

She busied herself by smoothing down her skirt again and patting her hair to make sure it wasn’t too much out of place, although she knew Tom had been gentle. He, meanwhile, had far fewer things to put back together. His curls were a little messier because of her, but with a brush of his fingers, it was as if nothing had happened.

“Will I see you again tonight?” she asked. “After everything?”

He looked at her quietly as he straightened his belt and tucked his shirt in at the back. The confidence that played across his lips before was now replaced with a rather dour frown and thinning of lips. He brushed some imaginary specks of dust off his trousers then looked into her eyes again and answered, as honest as he could.

“I will be all yours.”

[stolasdearest]

Hey there!

Is it ok request an Alastor x overlord fic? Like Alastor made a deal with this demon(a goetia) and was to report to them every now and then. But, the fight happens and reader doesn’t hear from him for the 7 years, and when he dose see them, it’s because of that silly ad for the hotel, reader goes in and drags Alastor back to his house se where he teaches him a lesson on respect.

Thanks for reading my rant!

Alastor x Reader ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

ׂׂૢ Pairing : Alastor x Reader

ׂׂૢ cw : not Proofread

ׂׂૢ Reader is gender neutral

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. . .

Being a Goetia who happens to operate quite often in pride was not common, being seen as; odd for meddling with sinners. You already had power, what power trip were you feeling to associate with mortal souls? Your family couldn't help but side eye but you nonetheless continued with your business in the top Ring. Years before you however stumbled upon a refined new soul who was all too eager to ask for your assistance; even if it meant his soul was no longer his. Over the years he made his way to you to report important information within the ring, the other overlords were mostly what he spoke of.. However he suddenly went radio silent, with absolutely no updates— he wasn't even seen in the general public for nearing a full decade. But after another extermination you had noticed a certain someone at this so called "Hazbin Hotel" you sat and pondered why he'd waste his precious time there and even more why the overlord would risk his own life for something he clearly had shown no prior interest in. Hence why your hand is gently knocking on the now rebuilt hotel door, the creator of the hotel; Charlie Morningstar answered the door; almost instantaneously jumping back at what met her, a Goetia? Why were you here? You're not a sinner wh-

"Greetings, Morningstar! I have a friend here who I'd like to see!"

The princess looked around for a moment the uneasy expression evident on her paper white face; you had a feeling this had happened before

"sure! Who may I get for yo-".

"nonsense! I'll find him myself"

Immediately after you pushed pass the princess and set off to find the deer. And soon enough you did; a immediate wave of displeasure,shock and fear apparent in his eyes, the Radio Demon instantly stood up and straightened himself out— words clearly trying to make their way out but nothing came out as he saw your demeanor almost immediately change, like you had locked in on him as if he were prey— which fairly speaking he was in this context.

"Do I have to drag you out by the ear?"

"of course not! I'll be right behind you"

He knew that face, that posture..that tone. He didn't need to explain his absence, nor reason why— that didn't matter to you; He disobeyed— he avoided you and he knows he'll get to know what it means to stray from you.

He knew what he was in for when they left the safety of the public eye and a part of him was thrilled about it.

Authors note : AHHH I've been inactive for awhile I'm sossoosos sorry!!! Love you guys!!

Taglist : @anni1600 @d0nutsaur @ihavetoomanyfictionalcrushes @k1y0yo

[nousrose]

From snobs to scavengers, all expend their criminal generosity, all hand out formulas for happiness, all try to give directions: life in common thereby becomes intolerable, and life with oneself still more so; if you fail to meddle in other people’s business you are so uneasy about your, own that you convert your self into a religion, or, apostle in reverse, you deny it altogether; we are victims of the universal game. The abundance of solutions to the aspects of existence is equaled only by their futility. History: a factory of ideals, lunatic mythology, frenzy of hordes and of solitaries. Refusal to look reality in the face, mortal thirst for fictions. The source of our actions resides in an unconscious propensity to regard ourselves as the center, the cause, and the conclusion of time. Our reflexes and our pride transform into a planet the parcel of flesh and consciousness we are. If we had the right sense of our position in the world, if to compare were inseparable from to live, the revelation of our infinitesimal presence would crush us. But to live is to blind ourselves to our own dimensions. And if all our actions—from breathing to the founding of empires or metaphysical systems—derive from an illusion as to our importance, the same is true a fortiori of the prophetic instinct. Who, with the exact vision of his nullity, would try to be effective and to turn himself into a savior? Nostalgia for a world without ideals, for an agony without doctrine, for an eternity without life. Paradise. But we could not exist one second without deceiving ourselves: the prophet in each of us is just the seed of madness which makes us flourish in our void. The ideally lucid, hence ideally normal, man should have no recourse beyond the nothing that is in him. I can imagine him saying: “Torn from the goal, from all goals, I retain, of my desires and my displeasures, only their formulas. Having resisted the temptation to conclude, I have overcome the mind, as I have overcome life itself by the horror of looking for an answer to it. The spectacle of man—what an emetic! Love—a duel of salivas. All the feelings milk their absolute from the misery of the glands. Nobility is only in the negation of existence, in a smile that surveys annihilated landscapes. Once I had a self; now I am no more than an object. I gorge myself on all the drugs of solitude; those of the world were too weak to make me forget it. Having killed the prophet in me, how could I still have a place among men?”

A Short History of Decay

E. M. Cioran

[maladaptivedaydreamsx]

Jude Jazza x cursed!MC

this is a preview for an upcoming fic I'm working on! consider this like the prologue for rn ig? pg13 for swearing, violence (eventual fic is rated M). full fic/parts coming soon?? mdni!!

full credit goes to @natimiles for the images! 💜

In which the one with the curse of the thirteenth fairy and the curse of the sea witch embark on a dangerous mission, tempting their fates with the even more dangerously thin line between love and hate.

tw's: violence, mc and jude have a little too much in common, rivals/enemies to lovers, probably not the healthiest relationship (wbk), + the usual ikevil crimes

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Jude examines me as I enter his office, displeasure clear as day on his features at my arrival. Leaning back in his chair, he takes a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling as if to tolerate my presence. "If you're looking to strike a deal, ya better make it worth my damn time."

"Oi, I'm just here to collect for that favor you owe me from last time. Don't go getting cocky, fairy man." I rub at my neck, jawline set and vein nearly visible above my brow. I lean across his desk and steal the cigarette from between his fingers, relishing in his scowl as I mimic his earlier motions.

The smirk on his face fades at my comment about him being a “fairy”, clearly not enjoying the new nickname. He glares darkly as a vein in his neck protrudes, infuriated by my audacity.

“Watch it. Call me that again and I'll show you just how much of a ‘fairy’ I am,” he says, voice dripping with venom. “I could snap your spine, or anyone else's for that matter, in two. Just like that.” At this, he snaps his fingers for emphasis.

"It's literally your fuckin' curse, but go off, I guess," I mutter, staring at the wall incredulously. As Jude suffers from the curse of the Thirteenth Fairy, I suffer from the curse of the Sea Witch. My power allows for control over water and my curse makes me covet things not already in my possession, making contracts to try and win those things over from others. Hence why Jude and I are bitter rivals, as the resident businessfolk of the motley Crown crew.

"Touchy subject, jeez. Alright," I huff, turning to head out. "I'll be back in two days' time to collect both you and Ellis for the official mission and send word if we find any location leads before then."

Jude listens with a scowl on his face, his jaw clenched tightly. If he didn't already have white hair, working with that sea such witch would've given him a whole new head of grays.

“Tch, I'll be waiting for your call, Mermaid.” He mutters lowly, clearly still seething.

With a smirk, I leave my parting words hanging in the air behind me. "Looking forward to finally knocking some sense into that bastard who's been evading us, though." And with that, the door shuts, leaving Jude alone in his office with his thoughts.

He leans back in his chair and kicks his feet back up onto his desk, putting his hands back behind his head and closes his eyes. Jude lights a fresh cigarette (one that blasted mermaid wannabe won't blatantly steal off his lips this time), and exhalales into the office, his only accompaniment in the darkness the tapping of his shoes and the smoke that remains thick in the air. Thick like the tension before a big mission; and a big mission they were about to embark on.

[apostatehamster]

Oh no! Another person's 2 cents on the OFMD finale situation!

Yes, because unfortunately my mind still hasn't settled and is in a state of disbelief over what happened, and I am trying to unravel all of this to make sense of it. Written from the perspective of a sad Izzy fan, so if you do not care to read about that or are simply tired of reading these mind pieces... well don't. And do not bother interacting.

I want to preface this by saying, I do believe Writers should be writing the story they think is right. It is impossible to please everyone so I prefer Author's sticking to their vision rather than bending to the loudest (in most cases, read: displeased) voices of the audience. However, I also think people are entitled to voice their displeasure over writing decisions in a constructive way. I don't condone hate towards authors, actors or anyone involved in the making of the show and if you feel angry enough to send hate or threats, take a walk and calm down instead of being a jerk. That being said, I watched many shows with decisions I did not agree on and few made me as angry & sad as this one, hence me trying to dismantle why.

False marketing, expectations and broken promises

Frankly I hadn't seen much advertising about the show before, most of it was fandom activity that praised the show as feelgood and comfort, with good queer representation. I got into it pretty late, so I can't tell what the show itself presented itself as, but to me it seemed like they fully embraced that image and encouraged the show to be perceived as such. It's a rom-com after all, many laughters and sappy feelings. A safe space-ship for outcasts, so to speak. We expected drama but also making-up and possibly more shenanigans. What we did not expect, was a rather prominently featured character dying as one got used to happening from other shows.

OFMD promised to be different, or at least that was my and many others' impression, and then it turned that around in the last 10 minutes of the finale. But more about that and tonal shifts later.

What baffled me most were the interviews hailing in at the start of season two. I've read articles about how season 2 was leaning into the Ed/Izzy/Stede triangle with David Jenkins saying these three "are on an arc together that’s pretty inseparable". I mean we had Izzy being called a jilted lover before, and in addition to Ed & Stede's love declaration, we also had Izzy declare he had love for Ed, and Ed as well saying He loved him, best he could. There was a lot of love, but it was complicated, and the article gave hope that this season would sort this out.

But after the finale, we got interviews that declared Izzy was a father/mentor figure to Ed, which is such a weird claim that is absolutely unfounded in the way the characters interacted with each other, as well as the fact that Izzy's death apparently was something planned from the beginning as an ending to his arc. And well, I find that death separates characters quite definitely.

I am not saying that Steddyhands was promised to us, gods no, but we were definitely given a chance at it happening, when in fact, the ending had already been written as the complete opposite.

Reception and cognitive dissonance

Every person is different and thus has different feelings and opinions. I've seen Izzy fans hating the finale obviously, I've seen Izzy fans who said they liked it. I've also seen people who weren't explicitly Izzy fans say, they did not like the finale, so really, opinions can go any way.

However what baffled me is Jenkins feeling he delivered a truly happy end. Personally, I've never watched a character die and thought "This makes me happy." I especially would never describe a character struggling through hardship, just to ultimately die as happy or beautiful. I can only imagine that the focus was on Ed and Stede, when a happy ending was mentioned, but Jenkins kept pointing out in the interviews, how Izzy was his favorite, which gave hope for a happy ending for Izzy as well. As much as I enjoy seeing my favorites go through hardships, I also prefer to keep them around by not dying. I especially do not build my favorite up to be a well fleshed out character with growth, just to reduce them back to a plot device for the main character.

I know this is all based upon the interviews, and less on the show, but when I read "And what's the most interesting thing we can do with Con[...]?" my answer definitely wouldn't have been "kill his character off". Con O'Neill does a great job at playing emotional scenes, but we already had him act his heart out in the first three episodes. A last hurrah wasn't needed.

I am also trying to put myself in David Jenkins' shoes here, because I think he truly expected the last episode to be a happy ending, and a gift, just to be proven differently. I just wonder what went wrong, how one can read the room so completely wrong.

It wasn't malicious, but the fact that it was apparently meant to be a genuine attempt at offering a happy end makes it even worse.

Tonal shifts and established in-Show laws

It's an understatement to say that the tone of season 2 was decidedly more dramatic. To the point where I questioned myself if this was still allowed to be called a comedy show. I would have described season 1 as mostly slice-of-life, little adventures between the crew and the captains. People got hanged, fingers severed, people got stabbed, but you never felt the threat of actual death hanging over anyone's head, because everything was kept humorous. (Speaking of the non-baddies here. Calico Jack got a cannon ball to the head but with plausible deniability of his death & (apparently) an interview saying he could be brought back, if needed)

Enter season 2, which starts off with murder attempts, major wounds and a suicide attempt. Nothing was played off as a joke, and for that I am grateful because that would have been in poor taste, but the tone was noticeably different and darker. But it still wasn't 'realistic' by any standard. With no real doctor on board, Izzy should have died from his wounds and comatose Edward would have wasted away in the hidden cabin. Everyone came out (fucked up but) relatively fine.

The show goes back to the humorous tone with Anne & Mary who enjoy a good backstabbing and poisoning. We had our crew surrounded by death and a curse in the next episode, but there was any fear of them coming to harm, obviously. The crew gets boarded and tortured by Ned and his crew after that, but they are able to take it out and come away unscathed (some wounds aside). Oh no! Stede challenges Zheng Yi to a duel! Which we know means no one is allowed to interfere, until one of the duelants dies. But it's fine, Zheng Yi is just playing with her food. But watch out, a Cannonball flies towards Zheng Yi's head! Ah but she is fine, she escaped. The Swede pulled a Rasputin and got immune to poison without him even noticing! Look, even Auntie survived the explosion, badly wounded but she lives. Oh no! Izzy gets shot! But it's his left side, we established no vital organs are there. Roach and Stede are already on their way to get bandage- Wait they are back with no bandages, and Izzy he-

Oh, wait. He...died?

When watching season 2 I legitimately considered Izzy dying as an end result, because I am used to my favorite characters dying, frankly. But then I dismissed that thought because OFMD has proven again and again, that people do not die. Heck, Lucius was considered dead in the season 1 finale and he came back, albeit traumatized. But he lived to tell the tale.

Season 2 finale made it a point to leave no room for doubt that Izzy did indeed die. They dug him a grave, and they panned to his grave at the end to remind you, he is definitely dead. So, why did Izzy have to die in a world where our favorites can survive about anything? "Pirates die, that's just pirate life", okay but why was he specifically singled out to be the only pirate dying? In comparison to everyone else, it feels unjust, and it feels cruel towards the fans who felt safe in the knowledge that this was the one show where none of their favorites would die. And it feels like such a betrayal of the fans’ trust, who had hoped this show would do better.

I've seen a take along the lines of "Nowadays people expect the stories to be written explicitly for them, and then they get upset when it doesn't happen" and that take pissed me off enough to write this down. This isn't a case of entitled fans asking to change the story to be exactly what they want to be, there is fanfiction for that. No, this is fans upset that their favorite character got singled out by the narrative to be the one exception to the no dying rule. And I use the narrative loosely, because there was no ramification to the death that couldn't also have been established by the character staying alive and giving advice, so the death didn't even feel purposeful. And for a show that always stresses the "Talk it through as a crew" point, they did not care much for choosing talking it through as a solution.

I also heartily disagree that Izzy's arc was over and had no more stories to tell. I mean the guy followed Edward around for decades, I would have loved to hear more about their past.

I would have especially loved to hear more about their future, as two people who learned to let go of Blackbeard and became their own people again. Where exactly did the idea of that even come from, I don't know.

Pacing and Confusing decisions in the Final episode and the build-up into nothing

(Rambling alert!) 

Personally I didn't feel any pacing issues until episode 6. While I generally liked the episode, it felt crammed with both set-up of the baddie, fun-times, then appearance of baddie (and disappearance) and return to fun-times. The episode ended and I was literally perplexed that it was over, like we basically ran through that episode. But episode 8 took the cake.

Now I am well aware they had to cut corners, and the strike didn't make it easier either, and I wish we could have seen the result without these factors. But we got what we got now, and I have to judge based upon that, but I really would know how the final cut decision came to be.

I did like the beginning with Ed chilling as a fisherman, but in hindsight I wished they had cut that part a bit shorter to give more room for the final parts. We get a lot of Ricky dicking around the pirate republic, showing Jackie reluctantly bringing them drinks. Later on she finally decides to poison him. Why she didn't do so earlier, I have no idea, unless the show is trying to tell me The Swede had to build up enough poison tolerance within one episode to withstand the poison attempt, which would be ridiculous. Why the Swede was held as an emotional hostage, I don't know either. I don't want him dead but Jackie has many other husbands, the Swede being singled out was more to hurt the viewers than for Jackie imho.

We have Zheng Yi suffering through Stede's presence. Our queen is suffering through the loss of her whole crew and her aunt, while Stede unsympathetically offers that being a failure gets easier. I expected more compassion from a guy who treasures his own crew and also enjoyed the hospitality of Zheng Yi's ship, but okay. Being a dick for the sake of comedy, I suppose. "Thing's have a way of working out. At least for me" And Zheng Yi proves Stede right by killing the soldiers, and Stede claims that went just as planned. I am not sure what happened to the Stede who successfully avoided being backstabbed in episode 5 and defended his crew in episode 6 and actually seemed competent, just to go back to an ignorant fool, but hm.

Fisherman Ed returns, thinks Stede in danger, and recovers his leathers that somehow are still in the same place, after mindlessly killing everyone in his way. Whatever happened to not wanting to be a monster and not killing and running away from that, it doesn't matter anymore. The flashback of pop-pop tells him he needs to go back to what he is good at, and I guess... this is it??? The Kraken rises from the sea again. Will there be consequences for Ed's emotional state after that? Well, no. Not really. Or not in this season anyway.

Okay Ricky invites Izzy to a drink, he's quite obviously a Izzy fanboy. For what reason he took him out of prison, I don't know. He later says "Sad, I wanted to let you live", implying he had plans for Izzy. What those plans were, we will never know, Ricky never tells us. Izzy talks about what piracy means to him. "It's not about getting what you want" and I don't know if he means pirates generally robbing ships to get treasure, or of himself being perceived as a mastermind or being a captain, because he never inclined he wanted either. So, what a weird thing for him to say. "It's about belonging to something when the world has told you, you're nothing" is a beautiful line that makes me wish we had gotten at least some backstory to Izzy. Then we're shown a picture of the crew from season 1.... with Izzy in the background, quite obviously not belonging (yet). What an odd choice to cut into. You could have used something from season 2 that showed him actually belonging

Ed finds one of Stede's love letters, it's cute, but I am not sure why we needed that to somehow reinforce that Ed loves him. We already saw him worry for Stede and literally revert to his Blackbeard persona to set out and save him. He also didn't leave because he didn't love Stede or doubted Stede's love for Ed, but because he needed to find himself first to make it work. It's not a long scene but it took a bit of the momentum of the Kraken rising from the water from me.

Ed and Stede see each other again and we have a callback to the episode one opener. Which was also the moment where I slowly realized, death was in the cards for Izzy because that dream sequence meant his death. But no, this is OFMD, it'll be fine...

We're back in the cell, and our mates are trying to escape. Auntie is there! Very much alive, despite having been on an exploding ship. Who brought her there?? When was she brought there?? How long has she been there and why did no one bother to check the cloaked figure in the corner? NEVERMIND, Auntie is here and alive I suppose. Bleeding out and we've got no supplies to treat her, but she will walk it off just fine.

Captain trio congratulate themselves on beating a bunch of soldiers. Honestly impressive, outnumbered as they were. Mh, maybe they should get back to the crew tho...?

Auntie realizing she was harsh on Zheng Yi and admitting maybe she needs a different approach. I am seeing a parallel to Izzy later admitting his approach was wrong too. Except (and excuse the bitterness) Auntie gets to continue to "mentor" Zheng Yi.

We get a weird hard cut from "I don't do soft" to the talk between Izzy and Ricky. I really thought the talk had been talked, but some more insults get thrown at Ricky, and the deus ex machina happens as all prisoners are freed from prison, the captain trio arrives and all soldiers die of poisoning. Personally this was the moment where I had to slow blink in disbelief, because everything was happening so fast.

Stede talks about how they need a plan, and how a royal hostage could prove valuable. Another hard cut "SO, that's the plan". We do not hear the plan. We just gather from the following montage that it has to do with dressing up as English soldiers. We get a montage of everyone preparing for battle and dressing up, looking cool in slow motion. And, they did look hella cool, but there was so much buildup for them dressing up for the plan...without knowing what the plan even IS.

And then the plan apparently is.... just Izzy holding Ricky hostage? And the rest waits around and sees how it plays out? And they're just trusting Ricky to go along with their plan and say what they want him to say? Why was Izzy the one who had to hold Ricky hostage? The one person with a visible wooden leg? Not sure if peg-legs are an established pirate thing in this world, but the British seem to think so, because they look down at it. Why did no one check that Ricky had no weapons on him beforehand? And most importantly, where the fuck was Stede during this suicide plan? He is the one who planned it, yet he was nowhere around the group with Ricky, nor did he fight any Soldiers. He only reappears when everyone is running away. What the hell!! Where'd he fuck off to. Again, all this epic plan build up, for the barely existing plan to go up in shambles within 5 seconds, and then they all run. At this point they could have just left Ricky at the Inn and attempted to walk to the ship safely in disguise without ever drawing attention to the soldiers, and they would have had as much chance.

Ed asks Izzy if he is okay and I raise an eyebrow, A) because we as the viewers barely saw him get hit and B) Ed hasn't cared much about Izzy after Stede returns. But okay, we're stumbling back to the ship, surprisingly no one else gets shot.

Izzy is bleeding out on the ship, Stede and Roach run off to get bandages. "Bonnet is in charge, oh great I am fucked" is a true statement, considering Stede was in charge with the plan already and got Izzy to here. Later you hear footsteps approaching offscreen, which I guess were Stede and Roach. They just appear again, with no bandages and no comment. I don't want to get into detail how much I despise Izzy's parting words, and the message they send out, but Izzy throughout this season proved he wanted to live and got ready for living again, just to end up saying he wants to go here, and it's just so utterly wrong. This scene was presented as someone who was healed and now got to die amongst his loved ones, but he was not healed. He practically still believed he deserved what he got, and he died believing Ed did not need him and thus he was unnecessary. If he truly was healed, he would fight to live, if not for himself and his new found family, then for Ed who he still loves, but no. Okay maybe I did want to go into detail, but anyway, many have said it better than me already.

The crew who bonded with Izzy over the whole season stands mutely in the background, leaving the stage to Ed, who has barely cared about Izzy all season. Out of nothing I am supposed to believe Izzy means something to him, after Ed shot him down, discarded of him, happily mentioned to Frenchie that "But most importantly, no more Izzy" like Izzy had been the bane of his existence, the guy he didn't even have the balls to approach first to apologize but instead mocked Izzy when Izzy himself finally broke their silence, I am supposed to believe that Edward suddenly realizes Izzy's worth and that he deserves to be the one grieving, not leaving any space to the crew? I don't think so.

All season I was waiting for them to make up again, patiently, full of hope, but the remaining episodes got less and less. And I held out hope for them to bond over talks and teamwork, remembering how well they worked together before it turned sour, acknowledging that they could do better if they tried, but instead we got this. This is supposed to help Edward move on as Not Blackbeard, but Izzy had already encouraged Ed to not be Blackbeard, yet Ed came back deciding on his own to don his leather outfit again. This is such a back and forth, it's frustrating. They could have accomplished growth without a death, but I've already talked about that.

Also Izzy telling Ed has family now, because the crew loves him. Ed bonded exactly with one person outside of Stede, and that was Fang, who was once Blackbeard's crew anyway. Other than that Ed only hung back and did not give a shit about what the crew was doing, but sure they love him after the non-pology. Where were the scenes to back this claim up, it was utter nonsense.

Okay, we get a burial. No one says a thing, no one's got to say a thing about their unicorn. Everyone leaves, and "That's that then". Stede talks about Izzy, like he hasn't personally bonded with Izzy over the last episodes and like he was simply a guy Ed dragged along (the way season 1 Stede would have felt). Also, no acknowledgement that Stede's plan was what got Izzy killed whatsoever, no remorse.

Aye no time to be sad, we got a wedding now! It lasts less than a minute screen time, and I am still recovering from the emotional impact of a death scene + burial, maybe give me a minute so I can feel happy for LuPete? No? okay.

Stede and Ed decide to build an Inn, nothing either of them has experience in. Also the "family" Izzy promised Ed is sailing away, so that was for nothing as well. What happened to Stede wanting to be a pirate? What happened to Ed returning to being a pirate, because it's what he's good at? What exactly made them change opinions to leave their crew behind and start this? *lame hand gesture at Izzy's grave* This?? I am usually good at looking for clues and details and figuring stuff out in between the lines, but I am left clueless as to what inspired this.

I am 100% sure there were missing scenes that could have helped soften the blow of the death at least, but like this the episode feels jarringly badly patched together. There is no visible impact to the death that would explain the necessity to the narrative (and yes, we are in a story, not real life. Plot points happen because they bring the narrative along, and it didn't here) With everything established beforehand, it felt like the death got shoehorned in, simply because someone said "I want this character to be dead at the end of the season", and then a story was somehow built around this.

And of course people are upset about this, when I watched I thought it was a joke and I was waiting for the little wink telling me it's not what it seems. The theme I gathered from this season was "belonging", and to see the guy accepting that he belonged and deserved to be loved to be left behind and denied a chance to continue with the crew where he BELONGS, because he's dead and gone, is a very stupid choice.

The season had many unexplained and unresolved things that I chose to overlook because the show was still ongoing and I had hoped they would all work out in the end, but they didn't and this sours the whole experience.

Fandom

This has less to do with me unraveling the happenings of the show, but whatever.

I joined very late, a few weeks before season 2 aired. I was however vaguely aware that Izzy was controversial to the fandom and that fans got hate mail for liking the character who "broke the main couple apart". So going into the new season as someone who utterly loved Izzy in season 1, I was skeptical lol

But it was a nice experience. Season 2 showed parts of Izzy that I had already seen but in a way that made it clear to everyone that this guy has Emotional Layers TM and is capable of more than just being the guy throwing a hissy fit. Everyone could sympathize with him, people enjoyed seeing him, and I legit loved going through the tags of the gifsets and reading all the reactions.

Generally I loved seeing the reactions after every new episode, seeing how fandom came together to talk over what happened, and over what they enjoyed. I had expected a very split fandom but it seemed season 2 was somewhat gluing it together. Izzy was finally an "accepted" character and thus it was "okay" now to love him, now that he wasn't trying to break Ed/Stede apart either. The show was feeding fans too, I felt like I feasted every episode up until the finale happened.

And /then/ the finale happened and the illusion went away.

Up to then I thought this was a season for the Izzy fans, with the opener episode showing how ridiculous the take of "Izzy has to die for Ed/Stede to be happy" was in a mocking dream episode, I thought that was David Jenkins acknowledging the hate that has been sent in the direction of Izzy & his fans, and how it's Not That Easy. And then he proved Izzy was more than that.

And then he killed Izzy off, so Ed/Stede could be happy and we've come full circle again.

Of course Izzy fans were upset, because it felt like a final fuck you after a season full of promises that it would be okay, and of course people were voicing their displeasure and sadness over it. Some people were downright grieving the character, and I can tell you I Am People. I went through the 5 stages of grief, through bargaining and anger directly after the finale, sadness the whole day after, crying over it because it felt so unjust to me. And maybe these reactions seem extreme to you, but that does not mean that people aren't feeling awful about the finale, that it truly hurt them. And you do not get to mock people for feeling in pain. What do you gain from that? If you liked the finale, fine, everyone is different, but allow the people who were shaken by it to express their emotions. Processing emotions takes time, and as a part of this I wrote a goddamn essay to make peace. The least you could do is not be a dick.

Parting thoughts are that the final episode was both a product of unfortunate cuts in screen time, and a writer who didn't expect the effect it would have on the audience.

I am not hating on David Jenkins, I loved every other episode of the season and eagerly anticipated the next one, but I am so incredibly sad that one botched finale broke my trust into the show, soured my love for the previous episodes with the knowledge of what it all built up to, and left the fandom back in shambles.

So long, and be kind to each other.

[fandomgirlz01]

Courageous Gift Pt. 1

Greg Sanders x Reader

Imagine on my fandom Instagram?: Yes/No  

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: Yes/No

Style of Writing: Mini Series 

Rating: PG-13 ~ For fluff and cuteness, but more adult commentary or even some triggering content.

Edited: Yes

Word count: 4,820

Post Date & Time: August 16th 2024 at 2:32 AM

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings Here 

Listen to the story be read out loud here {coming soon}. 

Summary:  Based off of S7 Es4 & 7 When Greg becomes victim to a gang of street thugs that have been beating people all night, the reader is forced to fear the worst for her best friend. 

Reader’s Pov:

I get into work and walk down the many hallways from the parking garage and to the locker room, quickly changing into my work clothes. Just as I start to put my old clothes away, Sara walks in and opens up her locker.  

“Hi, y/n,” she greets me and I smile at her. 

“Hi, Sara,” I greet her back as she turns to smile back at me. 

“Are you doing okay? You look a little tired,” she observes and I sigh, shaking my head. 

“Nah. I’m good, just didn't sleep much last night,” I respond and she purses her lips as I pull out my gun and clip it to my hip. 

“Are you good to work then? I could talk to Griss, see if you can get a bit more sleep,” she wonders and I shake my head, closing my locker. 

“No. It’s okay. He already knows. I called in before and asked if I could come in later. Hence why I’m here now,” I inform her with a shrug and she nods. 

“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything,” she offers to me as she rubs my shoulder. 

“Oh yeah, of course. Thank you,” I give my appreciation and she smiles at me. 

“Anytime,” she replies with her own light smile. 

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later. Gotta get to work,” I inform her and she nods. 

“Yeah, see you later,” she agrees before I walk out of the locker room. 

I walk through the lab’s endlessly long, winding hallways, looking for Grissom to talk to him. I just so happen to catch Greg, who smiles when he sees me and starts to walk up to me, making me smile as I start to walk towards him too.

“Way to go,” our coworker congratulates him as they pass each other and give one another a high five. 

“Thank you,” Greg replies before walking over to me and I smile at him. 

“Well, hello, Mr. Spiffy. Don’t you look nice in that suit and tie,” I remark, crossing my arms and giving a knowing smile. He grins as he pops the side of it. 

“Thank you. I had court today,” he comments with a smug look crossing his face and I nod as I look him over. 

“I know. Your first trial with a jury, how’d it go?” I ask and he grins more if that’s even possible, which with Greg it always is. 

“You remembered,” he practically gushes and I roll my eyes. 

“Of course I remember, Greg. We’ve only been best friends for how many years? Oh yeah, 20 plus years,” I sarcastically remark and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“It went great. I did so good that even the nice lady prosecutor took me to dinner,” he playfully boasts as he beams at me with a grin brighter than the sun as we slowly start to walk again. 

“That’s great, G. I guess I owe you dinner now too,” I offer with my own sly grin, even though there’s a pit of boiling jealousy running through me. 

“Actually, by the time we’re both off you’d probably be buying late breakfast,” he jokes with an eyebrow raise and I giggle. 

“You know what I meant, dumbass,” I deadpan as I lightly hit his arm. 

“Yeah, I did…” he sheepishly admits as he rubs his arm. 

“No, but really. You don’t have to buy me breakfast. If anything, I’ll buy you breakfast,” he argues and I shake my head. 

“Greg. How would that even make sense? Please, just let me treat you?” I beg him, giving him my best puppy eyes that I know he can’t say no to.

“Not the puppy eyes… and you bought the pizza on Friday,” he groans out in displeasure, shielding his eyes and I grin. 

“Yeah, but it’s not every day my best friend survives his first day in court with a jury,” I joke with him and he shakes his head as he finally looks at me again while letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Greg… y/n. Good, I need both of you,” Grissom calls out to us as he comes out of his office holding a clipboard and we look at one another before walking over to him together. 

“Lose the monkey suit, you’ve got a scene: liquor store robbery. Here’s the address,” he informs Greg, looking him up and down before handing Greg a paper. 

“Awe man, I like the monkey suit,” I playfully whine and Greg lets out a chortle, shaking his head. 

“Well, too bad. He can’t go on a scene like that,” Grissom notes in humor as he looks at me over his glasses. 

“Is it related to the earlier 415s?” Greg inquires as he looks at the address. 

“Could be— Sofia’s got one of the suspect’s sweaters,” Grissom answers as he scratches at his ear. 

“I need you to seal it, bring it back here and anything else you can find,” Grissom explains, pointing at Greg, who nods as he listens intently. 

“All right. Who’s my wingman? Is it y/n?” Greg asks in excitement as he smiles at me. 

“You're a big boy, Greg. You don’t need a wingman for this,” Grissom pointedly answers, giving him a judgmental fatherly look and I turn to Greg with a grin. 

“Y/n, may I please see you in my office?” Grissom asks and I nod at him before he turns around and walks into it. 

“Primary. Nice,” Greg comments with a light smirk as he hits the paper against his hand like he always does. 

“Good luck out there, G. Be safe, yeah?” I ask him and he smiles, nodding. 

“Of course. I promise,” he replies before opening his arms for a hug. 

I smile back, taking a step forward and wrapping my arms around his torso, squeezing him affectionately. He wraps his arms around my waist and lays his head lightly on top of mine. I turn my head and nuzzle my nose into his neck, melting into him for a moment as all my tiredness comes flooding over me. 

“Hey. You doing okay?” he asks as he starts to pull back from the hug, but I pull him back in. 

“Just hold me for a second,” I mutter out, holding him a little tighter. 

“Sure, I can do that,” he whispers softly as I relish in the tranquility that he provides me with. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, fruit loop?” he asks me when I finally pull back from the hug and I purse my lips. 

“I’m fine, poohbear. I just…” I pause, biting at my lip and he grabs my hand. 

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m here for you through whatever, you know that,” he tentatively rubs his thumb on the back of my hand and I sigh. 

“I’m having sleep problems again…” I relent hesitantly and he reverently nods. 

“I figured. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks and I shake my head. 

“I thought I could handle it…” I admit while refusing to look at him and he sighs. 

“Well, now I’m definitely coming over and you're buying me breakfast,” he jokingly remarks and I look up at him in shock before smiling softly when I only see care written all over his face. 

“You got yourself a deal. I’ll see you in the morning then?” I ask him in a hopeful tone and he smiles, nodding as he gives my hand one last squeeze. 

“I’ll meet you at your apartment?” he questions with another raised eyebrow and I squeeze his hand back. 

“Okay. I’ll see you then,” I agree, nodding and he gives one last nod before backing up while slowly letting go of my hand. 

I shake my head as I feel a blush coming on, but I do my best to hide it. He walks away all the while walking backwards and I shake my head, holding back a giggle as he snaps his fingers before giving me finger guns. It’s only when he disappears that I let out a sigh before turning and walking into Grissom’s office. 

Third Person Pov:

After saying goodbye to y/n, Greg quickly went to change out of his suit and into his work overalls before heading out to his SUV to drive out to the scene. As he drives down the streets of Las Vegas, following the directions on his GPS, he passes an alleyway and sees a glimpse of something strange. In confusion, he stops his car and backs up to look in the alleyway. He rolls his window down and hears grunting and groaning coming from the end of the alley as dark figures all seem to stand over another. Quickly, he picks up his radio and holds the button down for a moment. 

“Control, control. This is CSI Sanders. I need some help,” he speaks into it before letting go of the button. 

“Control, go with your information,” the dispatcher replies and he quickly turns his head back to the scene. 

“Okay. I got an assault in progress. One alley south of Casino drive, cross street Shane,” he recites as he leans forward a bit to look at the sign. 

“How many suspects involved?” The dispatcher questions as she gets ready to take the information down. 

“Multiple, could be the guys who’ve been doing it all night,” Greg continues to relay information and he pauses as he waits anxiously. 

“The closest unit has a five-minute ETA. Rolling code three. Are they armed?” she asks. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know. Ma’am, please, listen. You got to get here quicker than this,” he begs into the walkie talkie as he helplessly watches the group beat the poor person. 

“Copy that. We’ll roll two additional units ASAP. Wait for backup,” the dispatcher replies and the radio goes silent. 

Greg takes in a breath as he thinks for a split second before putting his SUV back into drive. He quickly backs the car up before pulling into the alleyway and driving down it while honking his horn. 

“Move!” he shouts as he gets closer to the group while still honking his horn. 

He hits his siren a couple of times while honking as he gets closer. It’s not until he gets a little closer that a lot of the suspects start to move away from the person on the ground, all running in different directions. 

“Hey, get out of here!” he yells out at them as he waves his hand. 

One of the suspects stays and continues to kick the victim on the ground. Greg comes to a stop and gives a long honk of his horn at the suspect, but the man just keeps kicking. Finally, he turns around and looks Greg right in the face. Greg is in shock when he sees the guy's eyes are stark white, before fear races through him as the guy quickly rushes over to his right and picks up a rock. At first he moves his hand back like he’s going to bash the victim's head open, but then he turns to Greg and starts to run towards him. 

He pulls his arm back as he runs at Greg, who watches in slow motion as he gets closer and closer, seeming like he’s going to throw the rock at Greg through the windshield. Greg makes a split second decision and puts his foot down on the gas ever so slightly, revving the engine just a bit to make the car jolt forward. The guy continues to run at Greg and the car meets the guy in the middle. The guy and the car collide, making him hit the hood before falling to the ground as Greg stops the car to take a moment to calm down. Then all of a sudden, the back window breaks with a resounding crash, making Greg turn to look behind himself, but he sees nothing behind him so he calms once again. 

The calm is short lived though, because his driver's side window is next to be broken. He doesn’t have time to turn and find the source seeing as arms reach in. He fights the arms for a good minute, but he loses the battle and gets pulled out of the driver's side window. He continues to fight the one attacker off, but all the others that he’d chased off come back. He continues to try and fight back, but the group is so big that they easily overpower him. 

They slam him up against a fence and then suddenly in a blur he’s on the floor. He tries to crawl away, but they’re relentless and just keep kicking and hitting him. Slowly everything starts to become distorted and the world spins. One of the suspects turns him over onto his back and all he can really tell is that they laugh before one of them spits on him. Even in his hazy mind frame, Greg still tries to think of anything he can do to make it easier to find them, so as one of them steps over him while going to walk away, Greg reaches up and scratches his ankle. The last thing Greg sees before blacking out is a car side swiping his as it drives away. 

Reader’s Pov:

After my talk with Grissom, I shake my head as I go on a hunt for Sara. Grissom decided that until I can get my insomnia in check, I’m not allowed in the field alone so he’s assigned me to her side or Nick’s side seeing as they’re head senior CSIs. Admittedly I’m not too thrilled with it, but I totally understand why and at least I’m still allowed in the field. It’s only a few minutes until I find her right where Grissom told me she’d be. I find her in the recreation lab standing at one of the tables, writing something down.

“Oh, hi. Long time no see,” she jokingly greets me for the second time today as she looks up from some paperwork on the table. 

“Hi. Did Griss inform you?” I ask her and she pauses as if to think. 

“No. I don’t think he did,” she answers my question with a shake of her head and I sigh. 

“I’m on suspended duty,” I inform her and she gives a small “ahh.” 

“You’re officially on babysitting y/n duty. Well, you and Nicky. I’m not allowed to go to any scenes without either of you,” I continue to explain and she smiles softly. 

“Don’t think of it as me babysitting you. Think of it as just two girls working together,” she remarks with a reassuring smile and I shrug. 

“Still don’t like not being able to work on my own. I’m a level three CSI. I should be okay,” I begrudgingly tell her as I cross my arms and she chuckles, shaking her head. 

“Griss is just looking out for you. You know that,” she points out and I sigh. 

“I know, I just—” I start to confide, but cut myself off. 

“You know what, forget it. What are you working on?” I ask her as I shake out of my daze and walk around the table. 

“Okay…” she skeptically agrees as she seems to watch me closely for a moment. 

“I’m trying to find out how many different shoe patterns we have,” she explains as she finally turns back to the table and lifts a shoe imprint up. 

“So far I’ve found about three shoes and matched them in the solemate database. Griss wants me to see if I can match any of the others,” she finishes explaining as she holds up a paper with the shoe print and all its information on it. 

“Want some help?” I ask with a timid smile and she smiles, nodding. 

“You know what? That would actually be so great. I have over ten more to match,” she grins as she picks up a pair from the side of the room and holds them out for me to see. 

“Get kickin,” she jokes as she hands me the pair and I laugh. 

“Aye aye, captain,” I jokingly salute her before sitting on one of the stools to switch out shoes as she laughs, shaking her head. 

“Phew, I could use some water,” Sara comments through labored breath after we finish the last three kicks. 

Together we worked on each taking different pairs of shoes and kicking the dummy. So far we’ve each done about three pairs of shoes and seem to be half way done. 

“I know. That was so much work,” I pant out as I walk over and grab a towel off the table. 

I long ago discarded my top and now stand in only my tank top along with a pair of sweats I’d gotten from my locker after the first set of shoes. I start to wipe at the nape of my neck as she walks over and picks up her water bottle.  

“Tell me about it. I haven’t worked out since—” I start, but she holds up a finger as she picks up her ringing phone from the table. 

“Hold that thought, it’s Sofia,” she informs me as she answers the phone. 

“Isn’t she with Greg?” I ask, but only receive a nod in response. 

My brows furrowed in confusion as she talks to Sofia for a few minutes before her face falls and she’s quickly nodding while promising we’ll be there soon. She quickly hangs up before slowly looking at me and something feels off about her look. 

“Go get your safety vest and gear,” she commands in a very serious tone and I give her a confused look. 

“What? Why? What’s wrong?” I ask her and she sighs, putting her phone in her pocket. 

“Okay. Ahh. Here, sit down for just a second,” she tells me as she pulls the small stool out from underneath the work bench. 

“Ah, okay. Sara, please just tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me,” I beg her and she sighs, squeezing her eyes closed. 

“Listen. I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you. I’m just going to tell you straight, okay?” she asks with a questioning look on her face. 

“Okay. Just tell me…” I reply with a light nod and she sighs again. 

“Greg’s been hurt in the field,” she blurts out and immediately everything comes crashing down. 

“Woah. Woah. Woah. Okay. It’s okay,” she panics as I lightly fall back and she catches me. 

“Bad idea to sit you on a stool,” she sarcastically comments more to herself than me as she rolls her eyes. 

“I’m okay. I promise. Is he okay? Sara, tell me he’s okay,” I beg her while squeezing her hand and she sighs. 

“Honestly, I don’t know. I just told Sofia that you and I would be there as soon as we could get there,” she informs me and I immediately hop off the stool. 

“Let’s go then,” I declare as I rush past her, not giving her a moment to reply. 

I quickly race to the locker room with Sara right behind me and open my locker as fast as I can. I pull my vest out and slip it on over my tank top, not caring to change, pulling the velcro straps tight. Then I grab my gun and clip it into its holster before turning to Sara, who now has her vest and gun too. 

“Ready to go?” she asks me and I nod. 

“As ready as ever,” I mutter before we both quickly make our way to her car. 

After we get into the car, she turns it on and makes quick work of pulling out. She turns on her sirens, making the drive much quicker. Soon before I know it, she pulls up just at the edge of the alley way and I’m already unbuckling. She doesn’t even fully get out herself before I’m rushing forward, pushing through all the people that officers hold off. I see Sofia as she talks to some lady. 

She looks up at me for a moment and my heart drops when she gives me a frown, making me stop in my tracks just as Sara catches up. I stand frozen, my mind going a hundred miles as Sara lightly grabs onto my arm and squeezes for a moment, effortlessly breaking me out of my practically catatonic state. She starts to continue her walk, almost pushing me along and we meet up with Sofia. 

“Hey,” Sara greets her as we push past the scene tape with Sofia now following us. 

We finally make it around the ambulance and find three on the ground. I let out a quiet gasp when I see Greg laying on the ground, almost peacefully, and for a moment the world starts to spin. 

“Why isn’t there a medic on Greg?” Sara asks Sofia as she grabs onto my arm to stabilize me when she sees me sway a bit. 

“He’s been stabilized, Sara. Y/n, he’s going to be okay,” Sofia promises as we continue to walk over to him and she splits off from us. 

We both bend down next to him and Sara grabs onto his hand. I reach forward and rub at his head as tears make their way to my eyes. As I touch him, he breathes out and I choke back my tears. 

“Y/n… Sara,” he faintly speaks to us and I nod at him. 

“We’re here, Poohbear. We’re right here with you,” I tell him as I comb through his hair with my fingers. 

“I didn’t think you could see us,” Sara softly adds with sad humor lacing her voice and more tears well up in my eyes. 

“I can’t… but I know y/n’s touch… and that Sidle scent,” Greg replies and I let out a wet giggle as tears start to fall now. 

“I’m going to take that as a compliment,” she replies to him with a light chuckle before looking at me and I continue to try and hold my tears at bay. 

“I scratched one of them…” Greg coughs out and Sara lifts the hand she holds when he moves it ever so slightly. 

“And you should check my vest. I think the same guy spit on me,” Greg continues to explain and I rub his head more in hopes of comforting him while frowning. 

“And one of their cars crashed into the Denali,” he informs us and Sara looks up for a moment as I choke back more tears. 

“I guarantee there's transfer on it,” he adds on through his slurred, tired words and I continue to rub at his head. 

“You should process the scene now. Me later,” Greg mutters out to us and I shake my head as I hold back a sad chuckle at the thought of him still being a CSI at heart, no matter what. 

“We came here for you, Greg,” Sara tells him as tears make way to her eyes now too. 

“Oh, Poohbear. You don’t have to be a CSI all the time,” I giggle out though my tears as I shake my head and Sara shakes her head, chuckling herself. 

“Leave it to Greg,” she comments and I smile softly. 

We sit with him for a few minutes and the whole time I have to remind myself I can’t move Greg until he’s processed. It’s hard when I just wanna cuddle and hold him in my arms. Nick soon shows up and Sara stands to go talk to him. I'm assuming she relays what Greg had told us before she walks back over to us, bending back down. 

“Okay, Nicky’s going to get the evidence around us started. I’m going to collect evidence from Greg, then the paramedics will take him to the hospital. I’m assuming you want to go with him?” she informs me before asking her question and I nod, sniffing. 

“Umm, yeah. I'm gonna go with him,” I reply as I continue to lightly scratch at his scalp and she nods, rubbing between my shoulder blades lightly for a moment. 

“Ok. I'm just going to get some stuff from Nicky’s kit. I’ll be right back,” she informs me and I nod at her, not having the will to speak as my throat gets tighter and tighter. 

“I’m okay, fruit loop. Promise,” Greg whispers out, giving a small wince of a smile after she leaves and let out another wet laugh. 

“I’m supposed to be the one comforting you, doofus,” I snarkily reply as I sniffle, reaching up to wipe at a lone tear that falls. 

“Yeah, but I hate when you cry,” he whispers out again and I choke back more tears. 

“G. Don’t think about me right now. Stop talking, save your energy,” I insist as I continue to rub his scalp and he gulps a bit before nodding. 

I sit with him for another few minutes before Sara walks back over. She has a few things in her hands as she bends down again. She opens one of the swabs, using it to get some of the spit off of him before pushing it back in the tube and closing the lid. 

“Okay. The rest of processing will have to be at the hospital. So I’ll, uh… meet you there I guess,” she informs me with a shrug and I only nod at her. 

“Okay. You guys are good to take him then,” she calls out over my shoulder and soon the paramedics are walking over. 

I stand up and Sara holds me in a hug as I keep my stare locked on him. They roll a stretcher over and they quickly but carefully move Greg onto it. He groans for a moment at the initial movement, but soon he’s calm again. They start to roll him to the ambulance and Sara lets go of me. 

“Fruit loop?” he calls out almost meekly as he moves his head, looking for me. 

“I’m right here, Poohbear. I’m coming with you,” I softly promise him and he reaches his hand out to me. 

I hesitate, not wanting to ruin any evidence that might be on him, but I feel a hand on my back, making me look at Sara. She smiles softly at me for the millionth time today as she rubs my shoulder ever so slightly. 

“You can hold his hand. It’s okay. It won’t ruin any of the evidence, I promise,” she tells me and I shake my head, letting out a quiet choke and she nods at me. 

“It’s okay. Really,” she continues to prompt me, lifting my arm to his. 

I hesitantly grab onto his hand and it seems he relaxes ever so slightly, making my hesitation quickly fade. I squeeze his hand, letting him know I’m there and look up to nod my thanks to Sara as she just smiles softly back. 

“I’ll meet you there, okay?” she asks in a very calming tone. I only nod as I watch over Greg’s face that’s full of black and blue bruises as everything seems to fade out of my mind. 

The ride as well as the arrival to the hospital is all hazy now as I sit in the main lobby. I wait anxiously for Sara and Brass as they finish processing and questioning Greg. I groan, bringing my hands up to rub my face as my leg shakes in anticipation. Finally after what seems like forever, Sara and Brass turn the corner and start down the hall. 

“Y/n. He’s ready for you to go on in,” Sara tells me as she comes up and sits down next to me. 

“He’s actually asking for you,” Brass adds on with a light smile. 

“I can take you to his room before going to help Warrick and Nicky if you’d like,” Sara offers as I blink up at her before nodding. 

She holds an arm out for me and I stand on shaky legs. Brass gives me a warm fatherly hug and rubs my head before saying a quick “bye,” as well as promising to catch the guys that did this. Sara and I start to walk, her leading me mindlessly through the halls. 

“His room is just around this corner,” she informs me and I freeze, making her stop to turn to me. 

“Y/n?” she asks and I stay frozen. 

“I don’t know if I can go in, Sara,” I tell her with a gulp as tears well up. 

“Y/n. He’s okay. You’re okay. Everyone is okay. He needs you. He needs your comfort,” she sympathizes with me and I sniffle before standing straight. 

“Ok. You're right, take me to him. I’m ready now,” I tell her with a determined nod and she smiles softly before turning to start walking to his room again. 

To Be Continued…

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[elf-osamu]

“WOW, I REALLY CAN’T SPEAK, HUH? MUST BE BECAUSE OF HOW PRETTY YOU LOOK”

[ masterlist ] [ event ] [ reblogs are v v v appreciated ]

fluff, romantic relationship, lucifer, mammon, barbatos x gn!reader

warning(s) : mammon’s one is kinda sad at first ?? mostly bc he’s overthinking things ☹️ probably he’s a bit ooc but idc he’s gorgeous regardless (let’s say you two are at the start of your relationship in this one-shot).

words count : 2587 words

request: “howdy may i rq an obey me scenario with this prompt —> “wow i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look.” gn! mc says it ! would like it to be with lucifer, mammon and barbatos. maybe something like them rambling and asking if mc is listening and they drop that line ^ thank youu”

a/n : AA FINALLY AN OBEY ME REQUEST 🫶🏻 i love those characters with all of my heart, aND THIS PROMPT IS SO GOOD, it’s one of my favorites !! thank you for requesting btw <33 and i apologize for the long wait :( i had no time to write between school and personal matters. anyway, just so you know, lucifer’s and mammon’s ones are soooo long while barbato’s is auite short, i kinda rushed it because i felt bad since i’ve been neglecting requests lately 😭😭 (yeah this is the second time i’m posting this)

LUCIFER :

as the student council vice president, lucifer is well known among the royal academy of diavolo’s demons and angels: although being a composed individual most of the time, he has also an intimidating and almost cruel side to him because of his status, hence why many demons fear him. his fierce, self-assured demeanour is somewhat entrancing, capturing everyone’s gaze in an unbreakable trance, plus his aura of pride is something inevitable in everyday life.

this is not to mention his complicated past and the authority he possesses thanks to lord diavolo, which — according to many demons and a few angels — give more might to his persona.

although sometimes you were the main cause of many troubles in the past, now you can consider yourself quite privileged to be in his good graces. as his partner you have access to a vulnerable part of him that not everyone has a chance to see, where his pride comes off and his insecurities and annoyances emerge, and you can afford to be bold with him.

this very day, he is complaining about a bunch of ‘inferior’ demons who have caused a rather bothersome fuss during curses and hexes class, knocking out a student, giving a headache to your beloved: lucifer knows perfectly well how to put someone in their place, even forcefully if necessary, however it doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel pressured and tired after doing his duty.

the stress derived from all of his responsibilities, and from the piles of paperwork stubbornly sitting on his desk nearly every day, highly increases over time.

now the two of you are in his study, lucifer is rereading the report about today’s incident he just finished to write while you intently watch him work, helping him here and there. frowing in displeasure, he keeps changing a few sentences, wondering how the hell he’s going to survive this afternoon.

however, you can’t help but admire his handsome features: his black eyes shine with a reddish light, they are a little jaded but also alive; his rosy lips form a straight line, emphasizing his concentration, but no less beautiful; his cheeks are covered with a slight sheen of blush, probably due to his weariness; what to say, his demonic beauty is undoubtedly striking.

being too busy with your thoughts, you don’t realize he’s trying to get your attention to what he has been saying for the past few minutes.

“[name], are you listening to me?” he asks, lips slightly parted at your silence.

it’s almost funny, the fact that he completely ignores the reason of your quietness.

“[name].” at this point, lucifer’s voice is filled more with worry than irritation. why aren’t you responding to him? is something the matter?

as he’s about to ask another question, you snap back to reality, slowly turning to your senses.

you try to say something to seem completely nonchalant, but your voice — hoarse from nervousness — betrays you, and you can’t help but observe again your partner, who is frowing even more than before. if that’s possible.

you sigh, in defeat with yourself, and a genuine grin makes its way onto your face. “wow, i really can’t speak, huh? must be because of how pretty you look”.

at first, he doesn’t really process those words.

although his gaze is fixed on your figure, his mind is fuzzy from all the work he’s currently doing, almost as if he were in a dream-like state, not at all focused on the present world. there’s silence for a few seconds in the room you two are in, and you’re asking yourself if you need to bring lucifer back to reality. but when you’re about to talk to him, you shift slightly on your sit, and his brain registers the movement.

so, suddenly, realization hits him. perhaps, too suddenly.

if it weren’t for his majestic pride, he’d cover his face, now completely red — but, doing so would be admitting his confused (but contented) mood derived from the sound of your words, which is inadmissible to him. so, all he can do is pretend that he’s not impressed by what you have said, even if his body is betraying him: in addition to the blush on his face and neck, his eyes are filled with astonishment and his lips, slightly parted again, form a small circle, defining his astonishment.

finally, he glares at you — taking back a part of his self-control — and seems to be lost in thought, probably wondering how he should face the situation without feeling too embarrassed; you can almost see the gears of his brain working wildly, desperately trying to find a simple solution.

and then, his eyes sparkle.

never underestimate a demon, especially if it’s lucifer. have you flustered him? well, be prepared, because he’ll pay you back in the same coin.

he adjusts himself on his scarlet armchair, which highlights his shimmering eyes, and leans towards you, over his desk. you can tell by his look that, if you let him speak, his words will be the death of you. and there’s no way you’ll allow it.

“too bad i need to be in another a class in, like, five minutes,” you blatantly lie, checking your wristwatch, and getting up. you lean just a little to give lucifer a quick peck on the lips. “well, see you later, pretty boy”, you wink at him and leave the room in a hurry, without giving him enough time to process what has happened.

yet again, he’s stunned by how you’ve called him.

the avatar of pride may be confident and assertive, but his heart can only flutter when someone is genuinely complimenting him. especially if it’s you.

MAMMON :

“… and so he blamed me! me, do ya understand? he, without hesitation, cursed the great mammon in front of the whole class! what an outrageous thing to do, don’t ya think!?”.

one interesting thing about the avatar of greed is that, despite his attempts to play it cool, he’s not confident about himself. thinking about it, it can’t but make sense: he’s driven by his multiple desires — money, for example — and craves them every time there’s a minimal absence of those, including external approval; he needs to be seen and accepted by everyone.

admitting it out loud would probably never be an option, considering his stubborn nature, but mammon would do anything to make you smile or laugh at his jokes — anything. he wants to be worthy of your attention — because in his mind he’s not deserving of love, particularly yours. of course, if you asked him something about this matter, he’d say the opposite — he’s everything but good at communicating his needs.

getting to know the demon hasn’t been an easy task, but with time you’ve managed to discover that there’s a soft side to him — a kind, warm heart behind his usual carefree mask.

despite all these thoughts spinning in your head, in this moment you are still fascinated by mammon’s temper and gestures: his hands, shaken, are moving quickly in the air, a slight pout is adorning his face, and his eyes are glimmering in bitter frustration — the sky of the devildom is reaching his darkest shade of colour while he looks vigorous yet ethereal.

“… handsome”, you murmur, as if talking to yourself.

mammon suddenly stops in his tracks, a slight embarassed expression appearing on his face.

“oh? what did ya say?” he asks, confused yet hopeful, thinking that maybe he has misheard you — because how could someone like you view him as nothing but that? sure, you’re his partner, however the fear of not being seen and loved for who he really is… is always present.

you sigh and wrap your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder. “wow, i really can’t speak, huh? ah, must be because of how pretty you look…”.

the noises of the night fill the atmosphere between you two in this moment; mammon’s brain has stopped working and, honestly, you can’t blame him: saying that he’s taken aback by your remark would be a great understatement to describe the current situation.

the avatar of greed is feeling so many emotions in so little time — his heart is pounding stronger than ever, you can almost hear its soft sound, and a reassurance which he has never felt so intensely is hugging his chest. these sensations are something he would gladly immerse himself into, a new type of greed to add to his long and interminable list, a new need.

unfortunately, the clock is ticking and mammon doesn’t want you to see his true self, not in a moment so embarassing for him, not like this — though he would love to indulge in this sweet pleasure for a while longer.

“you— human! what are ya thinking, speaking like that to your first demon? ya sure are bold! i’ll close one eye for this time, so consider yourself lucky tonight, because the great mammon won’t be so gentle in the future!”

a quick laugh escapes from your lips and, before he can question it, you grab his jaw with one of your hands, so his eyes can only be directed towards you.

“mammon, sweetheart, drop the act. you are making a fool of yourself and, although you’d be so entertaining to watch right now, you need to realise that i love you, truly.”, your gaze softens and you smile at him, making his heart melt. “it’s okay to not understand why you are cared about — but i want you to know that you are important to me, so, so fcking much. we’re in this together — aren’t we? then, will you allow me to show why and how i’m going to love and take care of you, mh?”.

mammon remains still as you finish your speech; his unsteady breath, however, betrays him.

“[name], i… thank you”, he says, unsure on how to continue his response.

“talk your feelings out, if you feel like it. i’m not a judge here,” you reassure him.

his gaze shifts for a moment, symbolising his indecision, but then it returns to yours. “i’m… i am glad to have ya in my life, [name]. but, well, i suppose i have one request to make”.

your smile turns suddenly into a smirk, finally happy to see your boyfriend taking courage to express his feelings.

“yes, dear?”.

“be greedy with me,” he pauses, slowly breathing in and out to not mess up his next words. “indulge in my sin whenever you can, day by day, and don’t leave anything behind. spare nothing, let the greed take control over you, like i’ll do with you from now on”.

“oh now, now, who is the bold one?” you murmur, getting closer to him. “you’re extremely covetous, mammon, and this is one of the many things which i appreciate about you. i already made a pact with you, so i don’t see a problem with your request. i accept it”, and you kiss him, as if you’re sealing the deal.

who would have thought that one of the greatest demons of all the realms could feel such things for a human?

BARBATOS :

despite being barbatos’s partner, it’s not quite often that you’re invited over lord diavolo’s castle to spend time with two of the most powerful demons in the devildom. the reason why is actually pretty simple: your lover’s life is full of events to attend and favors to give. his presence is requested by every kind of beings, alongside his trusted services to the devildom’s prince, resulting in little to no space left for your meetings. the same can be said for you, since your school life isn’t exactly giving you energy to talk to him either — so you could say you two are fair.

this evening is different from the usual, since you were invited for dinner — a rare, but pleasant occasion to find yourself in. the one who has arranged it all is, nevertheless, lord diavolo himself: though he often acts oblivious of his requests, he has a keen eye for his butler’s mental state — so it would have been only a matter of time before he found out about barbatos’ single desire to relieve his stress… you.

using the “celebration” of your school achievements as an excuse, diavolo set up these hours in his magnificent mansion just for the two of you — saying that he’s attended elsewhere and oh so unfortunately he won’t be able to remain with you even for a while longer.

this is the premise of the current moment — you are quite literally squeezing your boyfriend, hugging him from behind, while he prepares his nightly skincare routine. he’s looking at himself in the mirror, dark green eyes are inspecting his state: his hands are on both sides of the sink, slightly supporting his robust and elegant figure; his torso is covered by a black tank top — something you’d rarely have the chance to see, considering barbatos’ extreme care for a professional appearance; his cold but soft skin seems bright, almost shining, under the tender lamp’s light.

his lips are smartly moving, giving life to his thoughts, however you are too focused on him to pay attention to his words.

“[name]?”

the sudden call of your name wakes you up, but only for a second.

“mh?”

his eyes meet yours in the mirror. “are you listening to me?”.

“mmh mh”, you nod, not registering his question at all, and continue to admire him in silence.

obviously, he’s completely aware of it — after all, he’s the demon who can see through both the past and future.

with a swift movement of his body, he turns to face you, making you cling to his waist.

with his right hand, he gently holds your chin between his fingers. “would you like, my love, to share your thoughts on the matter? you seem rather unfocused tonight, wouldn’t you agree?”.

you swallow, waiting for your confidence to come back. then, you try to give back the same energy of his — since you wouldn’t like to lose to his antics, not again.

“damn, i really can’t speak right now, huh? must be because of how pretty you look, barbatos. it’s actually not fair”.

although you don’t look nearly as self-assured as him, you regain a bit of your control when you notice a hint of hesitation and bewilderment on his face.

he scoffs, looking away from your eyes — and doing so makes it evident that his ears are bright red. you catch the opportunity right away, moving his hair away from the sensitive skin.

“ah! if only the others saw you, the formidable barbatos, right now! you wouldn’t be feared so much,” you teasingly comment, preparing for his next move.

“i wouldn’t be so daring if i were in your place, [name]”, barbatos remarks jokingly — but you can never be so sure when it comes to him: as proof you have his piercing gaze fixated on your face, which conveys a message that you couldn’t otherwise pick up.

“well- i guess i’ll make it up tomorrow! aren’t you tired? it’s been an exhausting day — let’s watch a movie!” you suddenly suggest, not resisting to his towering yet fascinating aura.

he sighs as you quickly evade from his arms, though he’s suppressing a smile.

barbatos supposes he can let one person to make fun of him.

[ do not copy, translate, repost, etc. | by @ elf-osamu ]

[glitchtricks94]

No Title

Giyuu Tomioka x Reader

I had a song in my head. Then this happened. The song is not exactly happy either, so forgive the random soft angst. And lack of beta reading. Also I can't think of a title so hence the fic name. Enjoy the short drabble! -Glitchtricks

"Don't go yet." The words Giyuu uttered to himself as he watched you leave him in the airport repeated in his mind like a broken record. He never had the will to try and push past that moment, to push past losing his chance. Giyuu could never push past losing you. The years rolling past since you flew away had all bled together. He went through the motions, moving forward without the original passion he had in his life, finding himself the gym teacher at his old high school. He supposed that he could be on a worse path in life, yet everything would still feel more vibrant next you. You still kept in touch, yet everything felt far too distant, your time in America having shaped you into a whole new person. You and Giyuu could barely find anything to speak about anymore in your conversation outside of the usual pleasantries. Heart wrenching to him, really. Each night he swore you stabbing him in the chest would hurt less than this song and dance you both seemed so insistent on performing. "Good morning." "It's 4 PM, Giyuu." Giyuu stared at his phone in his hand. Each time that happened he could only pick out that you still remembered to use his first name. "I suppose that's something." He'd mumble to himself as he got up and prepared for the day.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you again, not after being apart for so long. You still looked as radiant as the day you left. Giyuu froze as he was walking past the art room, catching you speaking with Tengen cheerfully. His eyes were glued to your figure, your bright smile that always lit up his entire world, adding color to every dull hue that surrounded him. It felt like he was breathing again when he suddenly found you latched onto him in a hug. When did you even see him? "Giyuu, it's been forever!" You cheered, your familiar voice acting as an anchor. Shakily raising his arms, Giyuu returned your excited affection, his mind still wriggling out of the disbelief that had him in a vice. "When...When did you-" "You know Tomokia?" Tengen asked, stealing your attention from Giyuu. "Yeah, we were best friends before I left for America!" You chirped. "He was nothing but supportive of chasing my dreams." Tengen hummed in surprise at your response. "Oddly flashy for a guy like him." "He was always full of surprises when we were younger." Giyuu cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself. "When did you get back?" "Just the other day. I thought I messaged you about it." That explained it. Giyuu had recently tried to force himself to push forward, having changed his number last week to hopefully get the ball rolling in giving up the ghost that had to be his deep seeded infatuation with you. Leave it to him to reconnect so soon after. It always did feel like the universe was laughing at him in some twisted manner. "I changed my number the other day." Giyuu murmured, looking away from you in shame. "We never exchanged much other than small talk. I figured you had decided to stay in America and didn't want to come back home." "Giyuu, I told you I was studying abroad for my art degree." You spoke, making him flinch at the clear displeasure in your tone. "I know, I know." He sighed, looking back at you with desperate eyes. "Could we discuss this somewhere more private?" "Don't stop on my account." Tengen laughed, earning a set of glares from both you and Giyuu. "Fine." You huffed, shaking your head. "I still don't get why you thought I'd never come home, though." Giyuu felt his heart stutter as you continued speaking to him as you walked out of the room. "I could never leave you forever." You still said that? After nearly half a decade? He swore he could faint. Giyuu didn't realize his feet began to move to trail after you, trying to soak of more of your sorely missed presence. "You still mean that?" "What?" "That you won't leave me forever?" You stopped, looking over your shoulder at him. For a moment, it felt like the days following graduation again. Giyuu couldn't tell if he was having a flashback, everything around him blurred except for you and your honey sweet smile. "Of course I mean it." "Don't go yet..." He whispered, earning a confused look from you. "Giyuu?" You called, panic sweeping over you as tears brimmed Giyuu's eyes. "Please...Please don't go yet..." He whimpered, stepping closer as you turned to face him fully. "Please don't leave me..." He sniffled, pulling you into a tight hug, desperation rolling off him in waves. "Oh, Giyuu..." You sighed, hugging him back as you pet his head in the, thankfully, empty hallways. "Of course I won't leave you." "You did once..." "And I came back." "Why? I thought you were happy in America, away from me, pursuing your dreams." Giyuu sobbed, his grip on you tightening once again. "My dreams were always rooted here, with you. I just had to go somewhere else to truly start reaching for them." You explained softly, your mind filling with old feelings you thought you had shed in your third year of high school. "I always wanted to work beside you in some way." "Does...this mean you won't leave again?" "I could never leave you. Not forever."

"Thank you...Th-thank you so much..." Giyuu bawled, finally relaxing as the dam that held all his emotions and feeling for you, the very dam he tried so hard to build over the years in your absence, finally broke, drowning him in the ensuing flood. "I missed you for so long..." "I missed you, too." "Do you want to catch up over tea?" "Why not over dinner? Lasts longer." "Yeah..." Giyuu breathed, stepping out of your embrace and wiping his eyes with his sleeve, a small, tired smile painting his features. "We can get your favorite and eat while watching a movie. Just like we used to." "That sounds perfect." "After school's out then?" "Absolutely." You replied, flashing Giyuu a signature grin. He missed that terribly. He nodded. "See you later."

[dreams-writings]

Reverse Interrogation -

Part 2

sub!Feitan x top!reader

‼️NSFW / MDNI ‼️

Synopsis: For the first time in his life, Feitan fails an interrogation. Refusing to admit defeat and give up his perfect track record when it comes to his specialty, he begrudgingly allows reader to strike a bargain in exchange for her secrets.. and is shocked to learn what she truly wants. His body. Frustrated and furious with his predicament, he angrily accepts her conditions purely for the sake of the Troupe, agreeing to do as she says. No other reason...

[afab reader is more experienced, Feitan is a virgin. This part is long, it takes a while to get him to open up.]

Tw: smut, torture, violence, NSFW/MDNI, vulgar language, Feitan gives verbal consent but still isn't happy with the situation/ (dubcon????)

Taglist: @chrollosbiggeststan

"Don't understand request.. why..." Feitan's defensive hiss of displeasure was voiced as he felt the odd and foreign sensation of body weight pooling down upon his hips. Since the start of all this, he'd begrudgingly done exactly as his prior victim asked, to fulfill his end of the bargain they made. If he followed her commands, he would get the answers he'd tortured her for earlier, and failed to pry from her lips by his own terms. Now he had to do it her way.

He'd complained through every second of bandaging her wounds, and changing her into fresh clothing before the main event - one of her first commands to him. But he just couldn't meet her gaze anymore the same way as before if he was being truthful. He was terrified to make eye contact, and melt into a visible puddle of humiliation. Just knowing what they were to do together soon..

He was worried she might see how much the proposition of sexual intercourse affected him. So, he kept his face and his eyes turned away from her in total stubborn avoidance. It was also one of the only ways he could somewhat protest without disobeying, before he figured out more that is. He could be a sly little brat to handle.

She was straddling him, and he squirmed uncomfortably. He hated this. Closeness, intimacy, all of it - Feitan found it extremely detestable and he was already overwhelmed. Feitan didn't know how he was going to get through this for Chrollo. "Why? You heard me and my standards for this little agreement perfectly fine just earlier. Far too late to ask questions now, interrogator. Besides-"

"Can't believe you would.. ask Danchou to his face for this type of arrangement.." the feral man with ebony hair and narrowing gray eyes spat at her in reply, disgust making his lip curl. He continued avoiding her eyes.

"Don't interrupt me," she said, abruptly. Feitan scoffed incredulously, his brow knitting together into an expression of fury. How dare she. Yet, at the same time, he found himself marveled and perplexed. He had to begrudgingly admit.. she had balls, talking back to him, after he was practically tearing her fingernails off not even an hour ago for a chunk of desired intel. He was still very puzzled by her bold personality and the fact that he didn't scare the living daylights out of her.

He could ruin her fucking life. And she was telling him to shut up. The audacity. Although, perhaps a bit of his rage here was tied to his hurt pride and the unexpectedness of this whole situation. He had never failed an interrogation before. This woman was just some sort of freak of nature, or perhaps bloody insane. This whole deal where she supposedly would get to use him like a toy or something.. it felt like the ultimate humiliation. Punishment for his incompetence. This wasn't going to be witnessed by anyone in person, sure - but Chrollo knew. His great respected leader. And that alone was enough to put a stain on his name, and wound his ego astronomically. Hence his rigid resistance.

Nonetheless, he couldn't find the words to bite back anyway, for what he originally meant to say. He knew the foul word for "whore" in his first language but didn't quite recall the verbage to express the insult to her face right now, in hers. He was frustrated with his lack of vocabulary with which he swore he would've weaponized a million clever offenses to cut her down. Unfortunately she had him kind of tongue tied.

A woman... A pretty woman this close.. it wasn't normal for him. Even with people he'd known his whole life. She was a stranger.

Rather, the pale raven was insistent about keeping everyone an arms length away at all times. He didn't like what this was doing to him. He was already beginning to sweat, whether it be from stress or just biological response.

"You're a virgin, aren't you?" She practically purred. He felt her shift slightly, probably a purposeful move, shimmying to position herself a little lower down his abdomen. The fucking bitch could feel he was already getting hard, couldn't she?

The poor, touch starved man couldn't help it. A girl wanted to fuck him for the first time and he was furious that his yearning body betrayed him so openly. She would certainly know one way or another, eventually. So he told himself it wouldn't matter if it were unavoidable in the end, anyway.

At least, he did this to avoid the realization that something as unremarkable as her close proximity already had his bloodflow rushing south. In the past, he'd soothed his instinctive reproductive urges like any self isolated male did. Chronic masturbation.

It had been a frequent activity that was intended to simply satisfy his needs and hold him over through a life without any positive touch from anyone. It wasn't ever completely ideal when he knew (supposedly, by his male friends' unsuccessful encouragements) that women felt much better. And looked much better in the flesh than the adult content he read. But he wouldn't know what he was missing out on anyway, would he? Therefore it was all irrelevant.

It's just that he didn't trust anyone to get that close. Phinks had tried to persuade him a time or two, on rare occasions the Troupe hit up a club or bar for whatever reason. Asking him to try and aim for a girl to take home. But Feitan always refused.

"Could be spy or enemy," he would always insist with a huff. And his friends would then proceed to tell him he's too up-tight before running off to find their own temporary mistresses for a scandalous night. He would watch, perhaps feeling a tad left out but not affected enough to complain about it.. knowing full well that if he even tried, he would fail. He wasn't the charming type who could take a girl to bed after just one conversation. There was just no way he could pull that off and he didn't want to get laughed at by the others when it inevitably happened.

Phinks had a confident and self assured masculine presence about him that women were attracted to. He was also big and fit. Shalnark was clever and had a kind of boyish playfulness that often made the girls laugh when he talked. What did Feitan have? A sharp tongue and a grand total of 5ft of height.

As a result, Fei was then left to take over watch for the evening when he returned to base by himself. Someone had to do it, he told himself.

Chrollo would gaze at him as he stepped back into the building solo, giving a sigh. "Just you?" He'd ask.

"Yeah." He'd mumble. And they both understood what had happened.

He was 28 now and he'd continued to deny himself sex for what he considered his own safety. He wasn't ready for all that. Although, perhaps Feitan would have changed his mind had he known what kind of first time he would have. If he'd had any sort of experience then maybe all this repressed desire that he'd deliberately stuffed deep down, wouldn't be resurfacing at a crucially horrible time.

To his dread, all of this made his body so incredibly ready, but his brain was panicking and running in the polar opposite direction as his dick.

Why couldn't it be with a girl he actually tolerated? He'd literally just met her today. And all he knew about her was how she didn't respond to torture, and how her personality annoyed him. In fact, her hauty little attitude was peeving to him, enough that he began to dislike her in such a short amount of time. Or at least he thought he did? She was irritating indeed. But only because she'd bested him. He wouldn't admit to that, so really, who's fault was it?

He could be as horny as humanly possible but it wouldn't change the fact he didn't trust her. Not one bit. He was certainly having intrusive paranoias that she might pin him down and kill him like this if he gave in too much.. if she caught him too weak and distracted. So, he'd protest against his body with his verbal and mental self control. Easy. He had pretty steadfast faith in his willpower.

He just had to endure. Do this ridiculous form of reverse interrogation, if it meant securing crucial information. If he had pride in anything at all in this lifetime, it was that he always carried his weight in the Troupe. He was supposed to be the most reliable by his own self imposed standards. Damn this woman, for having something they needed so badly. And demanding something like this of him, in exchange for it. She must know she had sizeable leverage here.

Feitan always took what he wanted by force. He was a thief, after all. This route suddenly being unavailable to him was difficult to accept. Why did SHE get to have the upper hand and make such a mess of him?

He didn't answer her question about his virginity. Because it shouldn't matter to her. This was an empty business dealing. A bargain. She didn't deserve any scrap of knowledge about him as a person.. or what he has and hasn't lived through.

"Will you be a good boy for me and give me an answer?" she cooed. And Feitan found himself tensing, fists balling up tight as she leaned forward, stomach to stomach, lips lowering to caress his sensitive left ear as she whispered.

"You really don't need to though... I know a touch starved man when I see one. Every time I move, you make the cutest little faces. You've never been touched before by a woman, have you?" She nibbled gently on his ear in a manner that could almost be considered playful. But it made him jump, barely suppressing a yelp of surprise. Thank heavens he was on such high alert.

"Perhaps if you did... You wouldn't have such a stick up your ass." She gave a sly giggle. He was seeing red by now, especially with that irritating little sound she made.

His blood was boiling and Feitan had to practically chew on his tongue to keep from blindly strangling her. She wouldn't have anything smart to say then, would she? But he endured. For Chrollo. For the Troupe. "...fuck you," was all he could say, with all the passion and loathing in the world. His eyes bore daggers into hers as she stared him down, face to face, her lip curling into a coy expression.

"Yes dear, that's the idea. Be patient, you'll get to have that soon."

Feitan gave a sharp gasp as she smoothed her hands up his sides, molding around the shape of his slender waist, and reaching up to his toned arms. Her weight.. her scent.. the softness of her body.. he was pinned down and forced to take it all in. She was truthfully so much woman to experience, in comparison to his contrasting form of high muscle density. She was purely such a visage of femininity.

He was learning that being obsessively alert towards her every movement to ensure his safety had its drawbacks; suddenly hyper aware of the way her back arched into graceful curve when she lifted her hips to hover a little higher above him. Teasingly, her thighs spread like butterfly wings, lowering slowly till they were plush and soft against his abdomen in a tight straddle. Fuck.

"You're acting as though I intend to hurt you. I promise I'll be so gentle with you. Besides, if you really, truly couldn't stand the thought of fucking me, then - you would've declined this exchange offer. Wouldn't you? You're no pushover." She was slithering down closer to his neck now, and he felt his blood pressure rise, his heart rate doing the same as his instincts told him to protect his main arteries. His vitals where her lips were slowly advancing on him.

"Oh, dear... it's feeling a little too tight right here isn't it?" Feitan wasn't prepared for the moment she palmed him without warning, applying some pressure to send a little shockwave through his body, and he bit his lip to stifle any reaction.

"You're so terribly turned on for me right now, isn't that right, Feitan?"

"Not that simple," he spat back resentfully. She should know that. He despised what she was suggesting right now. Was she arrogant enough to think he lusted for her? His defiant thought was interrupted as she moved to reposition her hips a little lower yet again. She planned to gradually inch her way down bit by bit it seemed.. And he held his breath to keep it together through those short moments where her shifting weight provided him with some rubbing sensations to his groin, teasing his undeniably aching hard cock.

Yes.. he felt a bit of a stirring urge just now, admittedly, after watching the lewd way she opened her body up to him. But he rejected the feeling as much as he could, while simultaneously realizing he really wished there wasn't a barrier of clothing in the way.

By now her hair was cascading around him, tickling his collarbones, and he could feel her plush ass settling between the dipped junction of his thighs and hip bones. Not to mention, even through her clothing, he could make out a few anatomical details from between her legs, and determine that his dick was settled right where her clit would be. Torturously separated by undergarments and pants. Despite that, he could still feel a faint warmth, assumingly radiating from her core.

He had truthfully only ever been able to dream of sex before. Feitan knew he was undesirable to women. Short in stature and quite tense in appearance - he was also just as abrasive, cold, and detached as a man could possibly be. Any girl with a scrap of self preservation knew to avoid him.

He was lacking in physical traits that were appealing in terms of social norms, and even moreso in personality. He'd written off the idea of sexual connections entirely, and years ago at that, unwilling to try and be more approachable to achieve it. So, this happening so quickly, not only did it confuse him horrendously - why this woman seemingly thought a chance at his unappealing body was worth a damn dime, but furthermore, his unpreparedness and desperate yearning betrayed him.

He'd only ever fucking daydreamed of being buried balls deep in a hot, tight pussy belonging to a stunning woman such as her. It was so difficult not being tempted now that his own genitalia was hungrily drinking in whatever faint hints of warmth he could cling onto from beneath the crotch of her jeans, like a mouse still clings to its bait from within the trap it's sprung.

As more thoughts of denial crossed his mind, reminding himself he couldn't give in so easily, his eyes ended up transfixed on a pretty view from within the open window of her blouse. Round, full breasts that looked even softer than plump pillows.

Feitan gave a hard swallow as he felt the woman's breath fan over his neck. Was this what a rabbit felt like, cowering under a fox's intentful eye? Or even.. what his victims felt like beneath his malicious aura? A moment later she was kissing there, with surprising reserve. He'd half expected her to voraciously pounce him. He said nothing, struggling to refuse all the impulses he had to end her and this situation right now, while also quietly gulping for air as his lungs compressed inward. Again, no fucking warning was given.

He paused as his brain processed what he was feeling, being kissed. He had not expected such tenderness and it oddly made his ribcage tighten. He just had to endure. Endure. That one goal.. that one mindset was all he could drill into himself at the moment to get through it. Dammit, he could survive anything, which was why he agreed. This was extremely temporary. Hell, he likely wouldn't even be harmed. So it made logical, practical sense to accept the exchange. Suffer temporarily.. and gain a long lasting win for the Troupe. His mind had always worked this way for means of survival. Prioritizing was a skill he had to learn.

Feitan's breath was a bit labored by now, as this woman's kissing continued, and he did also notice as she began to deepen the level of intensity with which she explored the junction of his neck. Tingling butterfly kisses became more sensual and wanton. Her mouth was warm.. her tongue was smooth as she left circling patterns over his skin and then sucked softly here and there at her leisure.

He just needed to focus on something else. Anything else. The creaky ceiling fan above began to look hazy.

Fuck... Fuck, fuck.. she sounded fantastic right now, hungrily suckling on him and moaning in satisfaction as if she couldn't get enough of him. Her sighs were pleasing to his ears. He wanted to just throw caution to the wind, ignore her commands despite his promise, and flip her over into the mattress. All this, to brutally fuck her into submission until she screamed out his name -

Dammit, no- stop it.

He couldn't do that. He couldn't succumb. It was hard to focus on something else. Anything else. But he was grounded in the moment by the sensation he couldn't ignore, no matter how unshakable his willpower typically was.

Her lips were.. oh so soft. He could not block out the slight details, like the wet remnants where her intimate path had left behind, and the cold rush that followed if any surrounding air were to billow past. "So pale," she commented on his complexion, once she'd abruptly pulled away, to Feitan's surprise. Her voice unexpectedly was lacking that same sense of mockery as before. It caught him off guard and he struggled to catch back up again before she was already upon him like before. Why now, did she sound so doting?

"....you're so fucking pretty." She cooed.

I am?

He almost answered aloud.

It was mortifying that such a simple compliment made his ears redden at the tips. Did she really think that about him? He wasn't used to receiving them. It was certainly a first if someone thought that way about him, with his prominent stress lines aging his skin from years of jaw clenching and tension.. and his tired, exhausted eyes. He was too small to be attractive and too cold on the surface to draw people in. How could he be beautiful to someone with eyes?

"You wanna watch me touch myself before I play with you? Maybe then you'll appreciate it more, since you're still trying to resist what your body wants,"

She made the suggestion as she scooted back a little more, notably removing the pressure off his member for a moment, but he was somewhat relieved when it returned a second later after having been positioned to sit upright. He didn't resist.

Feitan was quiet for a moment, unsure of what to do or what to look at, as she wordlessly started to unbutton her pants. He thought he was going to have a moment of recovery time, his gaze and his thoughts distracted momentarily as he noticed some of her blood from before still caked against the steel chair he had set up for interrogations. He was about to contemplate how he ended up here.. but he was snapped back into the present when he felt her other free hand wrap around his neck.

"Kiss me.. but I also want you to watch closely. That's going to be one of my demands, actually. Don't take your eyes off my fingers as I show you how to touch women. You need to learn it."

She didn't hesitate to connect their lips into a heated kiss - suckling rather lewdly on him. He was preoccupied dealing with this, noticing she tasted sweet yet a little metallic at the same time.. probably some remnants of her blood still lingering on her mouth. He didn't mind it, being utterly desensitized to all things gore related, moreso just bothered by the fact that this was intense and he was slightly overstimulated.

His ears picked up on a sound other than the exchange of wet kisses, however, and a brief moment of confusion passed when he realized what he might be hearing. Instantly, he pulled away from her, eyes lowering to determine if he was right.

He almost gave a strangled gasp at the sight, but instead kept the outward response limited to his expression. Her drooling cunt was presented to him clearly, seated in his lap and weeping with aroused lubrication. It aided her two fingers as she rotated them skillfully in a steady pattern, drawing his attention in to the point of unhealthy fixation as he observed her getting off right on top of him.

"Fei.. Feitan.. are you watching me..? You should be watching and learning.. maybe I'll let you touch me like this if you're good to me.."

She was panting softly, her other arm wrapped around his shoulders to hold herself up, and thoughtlessly, he found himself grasping onto her to keep her still, assisting her in maintaining this position. He just watched. Hungrily drinking in every minute detail.

He was still quite resistant to all this physical touch, but mostly just struggling to accept that he was feeling a profound reproductive response throbbing from his nether regions, begging him to receive more attention from a girl who perhaps wanted him. Hell, the amount of wet slick clinging to her fingers and glistening in the candlelight definitely suggested she did. Maybe this wasn't all just mock him, after all.

He would never admit it.. but perhaps it was stupid of him to expect that this wouldn't affect him at all. That he could just defy his urges because he was stubborn and egotistical. "I can't wait to have you," she whined, with her fingers submerged up to the base of her knuckles inside her pretty hole.

This declaration left him shaken. Such a crude implication in all these words. Feitan found himself giving a helpless huff of exasperation, realizing he might think she could look cute bouncing on his cock. He was in awe, listening so intently to the heavenly sounds of female masturbation.. and becoming acquainted with the wet symphony of her fingers massaging and stretching her insides. He really liked these noises.

The steady waves of arousal that rode through his body made him grip the sheets just a little tighter when she promised to fuck him. Scatteredly, he thought to himself.. is this what it is like, to feel desirable? She said she couldn't wait to have him. God.. it was good when she said it that way. Would she say more nice things to him maybe? Even if he didn't ask? Cuz he wouldn't.

"It feels so good when you watch me, Feitan.. watch how I touch my clit.."

And he did. His intense gray hues were full of fire as his gaze bore into the space where her fingers worked, noticing the precise movements and how she would rotate between penetrative stimulation, and then back to slowly rubbing circles against the sensitive bud of her clitoris. Her pink pussy reminded him of a pretty flower, spreading apart the petals to play with the sweet nectar leaking from within.

"You want to feel like this too..? Let me teach you how to have some fun.. since you're such an overworked man."

She began to sit up, and he stayed put, still in a trance and unsure of himself this far into it. "I want your mind to be empty for a while. Wouldn't that be so nice? For a stressed and weary man like you? It's about time you got to try it too... The same kind of fun your teammates get to have with the pretty little things they find off the streets or from the bars after a mission. The fun Chrollo has had.. and likely even a creep like Hisoka too.. don't you think you deserve it as well?"

But there was no turn to speak when he found his lips claimed again by hers, melding between the spaces of his own. Her hands, they ghosted up his wrists and intertwined fingers, pressing him needily down into the springy mattress below. It gave a creak under the shifting weight distribution.

Feitan growled softly, making a grimace, but she wasn't going too fast surprisingly. The kisses were lingering, and Feitan was just seeing how all of this felt for the first time. Whether he liked it or not, and with her - this was likely the first and last time he'd ever experience this common phenomenon which was a miracle in his personal books. Curiosity existed deep down inside his mind, naturally. The more she coaxed him in with little addictive samples of touch, the more he was seduced into temptation towards her words. She was.. persuasive. Not just with her honey sweet promises but with her body too. He kind of resented her for it.. for making him feel so fragile.

He didn't kiss her back - he still didn't know how, and he was embarrassed that it might be obvious. Feitan was suddenly shy and clamming up quickly, but he was enduring. Doing as he'd promised.

His genuine surprise began to really set in when he felt something strange on his head. He hadn't noticed through her attempts to make out with him that her hand had slipped away and was now tangling up through his hair. The dark raven locks sifted between her fingers as she began to.. pet him?? It was more like little strokes, in a gradual pattern. He felt the resulting sensation against his head to actually be rather soothing for his headache. He almost always had headaches...

"W-What.. why ..." He had broken away to voice his dumbfounded concern. "Relax," she tried, and Feitan scowled. "No," he retorted. Still stubborn as ever. But something in her expression gave him the feeling that his attitude didn't actually bother her.

He doubled back when she leaned forward suddenly, to stare him down and whisper softly. A challenge in her eyes. "I could be a whole lot meaner to you, interrogator. I really could. I'm being so gracious to you, after all you've done to torment me earlier."

He just stared back at her, but his look was more calculating this time. Trying to test her boundaries here and figure out how far he could still push her, without receiving concequences. Because Feitan knew he could endure torture if that's what she was suggesting. He had before and he would do it again if he had to. To him, it was not a foreign experience by any means.

If anything, the current situation was more challenging, and more frightening. Still, the problem was that if she hurt him, he was sure he'd go ballistic, and murder the Troupe's one potential source of information. He had to stay put.

"Good," she praised, as if she could see the moment he mentally accepted his fate through reasoning. He just ignored her. He would stop questioning her actions so long as it didn't hurt.

"I'm going to start now." Even with a warning, Feitan experienced a bit of a shock as she slipped her hands beneath his garments, a slight gasp of fright, at fingers caressing his bare flesh. "My, I can tell you're a beautiful man beneath the thick clothes. You're so stunning, you know that?"

Feitan shuddered, finding himself baffled by the compliments, and unable to refuse the flush overcoming his body from more rare flattery. But it was still strange to him, her tactics, and how she spoke to him with a voice that wasn't commanding.. but moreso sweet and cunning. The confidence was jarring, because he felt he couldn't offset her goals here even with his insults if he tried. It made it tempting to give up the act. Nothing was working - his stoicism tactic was crumbling. He didn't know how to combat an approach that was so.. passive. Her tone was always sappy, like sugary syrup, since the start of this. Was this seduction? Why the fuck would anyone want to put the effort into seducing him anyway?

Feitan's muscles continued to retract and tense beneath her touch, feeling her fingers slide down the plains and ridges of his stomach. Couldn't she just fuck him already and get it over with? The more he complained though, the more she seemed to punish him by dragging it all out. He repressed a sigh of impatience.

This was taking fucking ages. And the warm stirring in his nether regions was getting a little more unbearable than even she was to him, with how painful his erection was growing. The surging bloodflow literally hurt to a degree. That stunt she pulled a bit ago with her fingers in her cunt really left him hopeless when it came to any prior potential recovery. He was doomed and horny beyond fucking belief.

With her descending movement he was suddenly, painfully aware of plush breasts cushioning themselves against his chest. His next breath was a bit heavier, and he would tell himself it was the extra weight. She was kissing him again.. it was like she was trying to condition him or something. Because it was getting a lot more bearable, out of frequent exposure. He was acclimating to the circumstances by repetition.

She wasn't saying anything to him but she did suddenly begin pushing him along into new territory by steadily rocking her hips in a sensual, hypnotic rhythm.

"Oh fuck.."

Feitan hissed at the new sensation before spitting out a curse. He legitimately couldn't spare the thought to be humiliated because the rush of relief was so fucking good. The teasing.. it all must've been deliberate, because now, he could really only think of chasing more and more of this feeling. It was just a natural reaction that he had no true willpower over.

She was using his whole stubborn act against him with the subtle, light stimulation. The fucking bitch was teasing him even more now, giving him scraps when he wanted a feast.

"How is it? It's going to get much better for you soon," she told him, and he ignored her again. He was busy trying to handle this sudden overload of sensory input all at once. His cold hands had shot up to grip her waist where the pleasing motion was coming from as she began again, hearing the bed creak in rhythm with the rocking. It was just a little bit of rubbing, getting him off through his clothes - but it was enough to make him feel extra warm down there. He groaned in a mixture of annoyance with her clever tactics, as well as more relief when he started matching her motions with a furious amount of insistence. He just wanted his cock stimulated now, that's all he cared about anymore, god dammit.

"How do you think it will feel, being inside me? We haven't even gotten close to the real thing. You're not ready. I knew I'd have to be patient with you.. but you're getting there."

It struck him as peculiar that she cared even remotely whether or not he was ready. In truth he didn't think he ever could be, but he was also not able to pay much mind to her words when he found himself preoccupied noticing other things.

The grace to her motions, the pressing sensation of her tits with every roll of her body, flush against his chest for his viewing pleasure. He was watching her spine do the work, observing the curvature of her hips and ass. What a strange way to move. Yet he found himself mindlessly enraptured. Hypnotized. He was slipping, enough not to consider trying to regain his composure now.

Fuck.. she was sexy. Always had been. He had definitely been eyeing her before during the interrogation when he was in charge of the power dynamic - he just doubted she'd notice. But there were other signs. The dragging of icy cold metal, from his tools - over compromising areas.. hoping to see a reaction. Elated, and delighting in it if there was. Even if all he got was a gasp or some goosebumps. She was a work of art. With or without his angry blades carving and bleeding crimson designs into her. Instead, apparently, he'd get to pierce into her a different way.

He didn't resist too much now, trying to just get through this with minimally damaged pride, as she kept grinding on him and soon returned back to kissing him. He didn't actively pull away or reject her anymore, nor did he return the gestures. He just sat like a puppet for use, letting her use his lips, and paying attention to how it actually felt.

Feitan's shoulders eased up a tad bit as he focused solely on that warm pit growing in his stomach. It was liberating, as well as the fact that his prior pounding head was ebbing away into something empty. Thoughtless. Perhaps it was the strokes through his hair that made him release tense muscles that he hadn't even realized were strung up tight. Or the comfort of her warmth.

Feitan had really overworked himself within the Troupe, because his duties were all he had left for a sense of purpose. It was typically something he took too far. No breaks. He was just up-tight in general, as a human being. So such a sudden release of all this pent up repression was kind of unfathomable. His mind was turning off slowly..all that could be left was primal instinct.

His victim opened her mouth and traced the tip of her tongue over his bottom lip - an open mouthed kiss for the first time was enough to make him shake, feeling a twitch between his legs, and he released his tight fists from the sheets to ball up in the material of her shirt.

He gave consistent puffs of air accompanied by a gasp or two between their tongues twirling. Without his noticing, he'd begun rolling his hips willingly, slowly in sync to meet with her fluid movements every now and again. It was truthfully a relief. he panted quietly as her hands yet again reached up to grope and feel him beneath his long tunic.

"You're feeling good, aren't you? You look so stunning. So relaxed. This is truly all I wanted from you." She purred warmly and lifted a hand to brush a few strands of hair away from his face. He winced away like a flighty, untamed cat.

Deep inside his mind, that normal part of his stubborn personality that had been melted away, yelled out that this was a trap and she must've hypnotized him with some cheap technique involving nen. He couldn't be this weak.

But since when did being weak feel so fucking good? It seemed she meant to prove her point because he realized a moment later that her head was missing. He felt her stirring to crawl beneath the thin blankets.

A groan of disappointment came from him followed at the loss of pressure around his groin area. His captor giggled. Or... Was she technically his captive victim still?

"Be a little patient for me, sweetheart. You're about to be rewarded for trying things my way. Close your eyes and relax for me, alright? I'm going to suck you off now. You're being so, so good." Being praised like a fucking pet dog was utterly humiliating, so why did his chest feel a swell of warmth?

A lurch of excitement also came suddenly with the mere possibility of receiving his first blowjob - which he kind of hated himself for too. God, he definitely had to kill this woman after they fucked if he ever wanted to see his face in the mirror and not feel his pride crumble at his feet. Where the absolute fuck was his unyielding dignity right now? He needed it. Yet the part of his mind that wanted to melt into her words and her body, told him it was fine. He could hate the woman and yet love her body simultaneously. No need to fret over it. She was making for a promising fuck so far.

"Hurry up," he demanded, and by now his blood was on fire at the sensation of lean, clever fingers lowering down his trousers slowly and pulling his out his cock, to place the tip in-between a pair of lovely lips. "I was just going to admire you for a moment.. but if you insist my love, then, as you wish." She stroked it a few times, causing him to grit his teeth.

The snug warmth that enveloped him a second later was like a fucking godsend to him. Her mouth was hot, and his dick felt great in it.

"Fuck, yes-" he cursed through gritted teeth, feeling his head fall back into place upon his pillow, a sweet sigh cascading from his mouth. His shoulders practically gave out at that moment, the usual tight expression stuck plastered to his face loosening into a blissed out look of numb content. He could see why Phinks had told him for years that he desperately needed to get laid. This was fucking great.

Feitan kind of just stayed there like that and fixated on every sensation as she got started on him. Her nails grazing over the ridges of his hip bones, her tongue prodding against the underside of his cock, then swirling across the head in a way that made him throb. She was taking her time but he didn't mind now.

Once she actually took him all the way in and started getting him off, she was messy and unapologetic with the way she sucked dick. But it wasn't unpracticed or sloppy. She blew him like a professional whore and he was a twitching, shuddering wreck. His hesitant, quiet moans were genuine, even if muffled by his hand in complete embarrassment. He was just so sensitive all over.

This woman knew how to incorporate every part of her mouth, to create the most utterly irresistible cock sleeve for his free use. Once she began to take him in deeper, he instantly loved the tight, gummy walls of her velvety throat squeezing him in a way that made him feel feral. Before he knew it, he was breathing huskily, drowning in euphoria all the while humping shallow thrusts down her throat. He couldn't help it. He could not stop.

She was salivating heavily now, creating a gutteral squelch that was muffled in the back of her mouth with every single beat of motion that had him fully sheathed, his tip kissing the part of her soft pallet which was furthest back in her throat. Better yet, she moaned after giving a slight gag, and Feitan's breath hitched as his nails dug into her head at the vibration, thin fingers dragging through her hair. "Keep.. keep on.. sucking it.. yea..." He pleaded with her mindlessly. He was sweating and hot, body heating up and flushing with more and more lust.

The dusty, echoey room was filled with a light reverberation of her gulps and his panting. He was a mess by now, head resting back on his pillow as his limbs began to feel odd. Like jelly. Was this normal at all? Whatever. He'd just keep fucking into her mouth as he pleased with wild abandon. But.. suddenly his cock was released from where he felt it should belong.

"How are we feeling?" She purred at him, after having pulled lifted the blankets to peek up at him through hopeful lashes. Feitan gave a low growl at the loss of warmth because the building, twisting sensation in his core had abruptly unravelled... Disappeared the moment she confiscated her heavenly mouth from him, holding her lips hostage away from his now twitching, aching penis.

"Why you stop?" he barked, lifting his head to glare at her. The woman just chuckled. "Enjoying it that much, huh? I thought you were supposed to be impossible to break."

He rolled his eyes.

"I only stopped because I could tell you were getting a little too close. I wouldn't want to provoke a man like you with orgasm denial. That would've pissed you off even more, wouldn't it?" She said. Her reasoning was sound of course but Feitan wouldn't say so. He also didn't like the sinister twinkle in her eye as she said that.

"Besides. I want what I came here for. What I bargained to have. I want to claim your first time, and I'm gonna take your virgin cum inside me. Once it's mine, you can't give it to anyone else the same way, ever again... Okay?"

For a second he was really questioning if she had a couple screws loose too many - but he was one to talk. He ended up deciding he didn't care enough to say anything. If she had some sort of weird fetish with the circumstances then that wasn't his business. He was just pleased that he'd get to fuck at this point.

"You know how it works?" She asked, almost teasingly, and Feitan grunted as she lifted herself up and placed her weight back down on him, her hips moreso pressed onto his tummy temporarily.

"Of course, not an idiot" he grumbled. "If you here to take innocent person, I am not."

Rude of her to assume he was that stupid. After all, he was an enthusiast about specific kinds of content that he read, which had taught him about the act and all its possibilities ages ago. Hell, he could probably put up a case that he was a shit ton less innocent than she was, based on that kind of exposure alone - but he wouldn't make the attempt. Maybe she liked hardcore BDSM comics too, judging on the way she had him purposefully pinned with her straddled legs whenever given the opportunity.

"I'm going to take you inside me now and ride you, ok?" She seemed to be trying to distract him momentarily from what was happening in case he was nervous but really, Feitan was just antsy and getting tired of waiting. He wanted that empty headed, mind numbing, drugged out feeling he had earlier which made his fucking brain empty.

"Just fuck me already, whore. No more wait," he huffed. Seems he could remember the word after all.

The girl laughed. "Talk to me like that again and you might regret it," she practically purred. He found it a bit alarming and strange that her threats always came in a chiming tone of voice. Such a light, upbeat way of saying it made him suspicious of what might happen if he did it again. He'd never seen such a tactic before. MAYBE he could admit to himself that it was a little frightening.. but he'd never give her that satisfaction.

"Now, you are to do exactly what I tell you.. this is about what I want, so you're going to just lay there and take it obediently until I'm all finished with you, kay~? You've been so wonderfully compliant and I'd hate to have to wring submission from you the hard way."

She spoke with a sly smile as he watched her arms cross over her torso and latch beneath her slightly blood splattered shirt. Another reminder of the pain he inflicted her with earlier, and how she somehow still wanted anything to do with him. It was beyond his understanding.

He watched attentively as she undressed herself completely, starring in silence as he realized this was his first time seeing a real woman completely bare. Her skin was smooth.. she was admittedly very pretty and well built. Any other guy might even say he was lucky. But right now his eyes were stuck on some of the wounds he'd given her during their interrogation. It left him baffled how they seemingly didn't bother her.. but seeing marks on her by his hand oddly amped up his arousal a bit. He'd left a few imprints on her nice little figure. She could lay claim onto him by saying she took his first time.. but her scars would last visibly forever. She was *his* first.

"You can touch.. you have my permission," she told him, and he huffed softly. He didn't need her permission, he was just going to do what he wanted to. He didn't particularly like this woman but he enjoyed how she felt and how she looked. That didn't have to have anything to do with her actual personality or their relationship of course. He could still just kill her after this, so Feitan didn't hesitate to reach for her tits and grab at them greedily with eager hands.

Arms outstretched, be began to knead them, quite interested in the way they moved. Not exactly what he had ever imagined in person but he sure as hell wasn't disappointed. Soft, and almost squishy, pooling in between the spaces of his fingers anytime he massaged them. He didn't notice that he was somewhat wearing his fascination on his sleeve here, eyes transfixed and hungry.

To his surprise she made a sound, the moment his thumbs grazed over pink nipples. A little shuddering breath - and his eyes shot up to her face, completely in awe over the idea that HE had caused that this time. So far she had only done things to him.. she hadn't let her composure slip until now.

Feitan found himself wanting more of that,to establish more control - before he could even stop himself. Though.. he wasn't the one in charge here. It was part of the bargain that Feitan follow her directions. Do what she wanted. And to his utter dumbfounded confusion she seemed to want to focus her efforts on him, instead of forcing him to do all the work. It made no fucking sense to him what she could gain by eliciting reactions from him.

His dick still wet from her mouth, she pushed his coat fully up to his hips, motioning for him to remove it entirely, and he reluctantly did so without a word. He sat up, pulling it over his head, finding himself merely a few inches away from her chest once he had tossed the article over the edge. Before he could lay back down fully however, she stopped him, lacing her arms around his ribcage. "Stay right here," she whispered. "Look at me, for every second and every inch that I take of you inside me."

The order made his stomach flip flop in a weird sort of way, but again he would wordlessly follow it, jolting as he felt her fingers wrap back around his swollen need. Her thumb brushed between the slit of his pink head, teasingly smearing a bit of precum over the top, and then he felt her begin to guide his length where it needed to be. Somehow, in that one frozen moment in time, he realized many things. That he was quivering, holding his breath, hands lowering to grip needily at her hips and pull her down prematurely straight onto his throbbing cock so he might feel the perfect sensation of sexual pleasure once again. That warm stimulation he had become acquainted with by her mouth just a bit earlier.. he really really needed that back for some reason.

Feitan gave his first real groan as soon as she stopped his insistent behavior, placing a hand on his chest, meanwhile she simply lowered herself to align him with her sopping cunt. He could feel the heat emitting from inside her..

And at that moment it dawned on him how he really felt about this. He was ready. He wanted to have sex with her and he felt prepared, thanks to her slow acclimation techniques.

He wouldn't say anything about it but it was subtly present in the way he adjusted his grip to hold on to her a little differently, to assist in her descent.

He sure didn't know what he was in for.. but he was about to find out that the beginning.. was all child's play.

She had some plans for him, that were intended to break him down further.

[witchofthesouls]

Can we pretty please hear more about Soundwave and Engineer in G1? I really want to know what kind of horny seeker nonsense they have to put up with.

"If the alphabet could be rearranged, why not 'u' and 'i' together?"

You blink at Skywarp, who refuses to budge from the wall, taking up all the space with his wingspan. Its glossy shine is so new and fresh that it catches prettily even with the dim and damaged lighting.

"Mmm," you pretend to consider the proposal, "How about 'n' and 'o'?"

He frowns back. "But that's spells 'no' and it's already together?"

"Exactly." You reply blandly, dipping your digits into his shoulder to pinch a nervecircuit, and he grunts in response as you shove forward into the elevator. “Rule five of the manuel: Don't fix what's not broken.”

Of course, he follows inside, clenching and unclenching his fist to get the feeling back in his arm and hand.

“Okay, how about this one: Are you a medic because my fuel pump is failing!”

“I’m not that kind of engineer."

"That's alright." He says with a crooked smile of sharp denta. Strangely endearing. "I know I'm in good hands."

You bark out a short laugh. Alright, that's the smoothest from him.

Before the door shuts, a familiar flat arm catches it, and your Soundwave walks inside. With incredible willpower, you don't roll your optics when he purposely stands in the middle, and you definitely don't smile when Skywarp pouts for the entire ride.

_______

One would think being sucked into an alternate reality would be exciting, but right now you're buried under mountains of maintenance reports, repair backlogs, supply requisitions, and hazard warnings.

You will blame the split-spark carriage for the onset of tears and the necessary ten minute private sob in a dipitulated supply closest because fucking Pits! You're standing in knee-high water-logged damages!

It's not the same Constructicons you once taken orders, but you're familiar enough with their quirks as you get settled and start on the more mundane tasks of clearing the hallways and getting the drainage systems up and running.

"Hello, handsome," you hear Zolo pur from above. Large and gravid, you may be, you're still able to shimmy your way into the walls unlike the Vehicon above, nor would she be able to reach the relay.

Hence, why you're in the walls, much to Laserbeak's grave displeasure. Not only did the drone peck your neck, she perched over the opening, balefully glaring down. And the blocking entrance.

You immediately get a spark attack when Skywarp's face and his upper body suddenly appear next to you. The magnets hold when you move to swing. Of course, the slagger vops away and reappears halfway through the bulkhead after a moment. “Fancy meeting you here! Did you fall and need help?”

It's hard to say who screeches the loudest: you, Laserbeak, Zolo, Thrust, or Scrapper at the resulting inner bulk damages.

_______

You're having a moment with Soundwave. Outside with fresh air. Unlike the Nemesis back home, this warship is situated all the way on the seafloor.

You never thought you would miss dirt and rocks, but it's dry and warm, especially with Soundwave next to you as you curl onto your side with a data-cable loosely wrapped around your midsection, connective feelers lazily spread across your plating, nudging into the exposed seams to buzz over the protoform.

The peace is shattered with several consecutive booms overhead.

"Autobots!?" You immediately sit up, and isn't that a surprise? The 'bots in this dimension still had fliers.

Soundwave is unfazed and simply pointed to skyline. On his visor, there are rapid captions of the Coneheads.

You stare at them, watching the maneuvers as they jet into various formations of amazing feats of aerial agility and unity. "Is this a training strip? I thought it was a deserted island?"

Soundwave doesn't respond. Instead, he picks you up and calculates a ground bridge away. It's even sunnier than the last, so you can't really complain.

_______

If you didn't know better, you would think Soundwave is jealous. He isn't as calm as people think he is, but it isn't jealousy that has him hanging in your periphery or leaving tall-telling marks on your frame and your legs shaky from post-facing, carriage-induced bliss.

It's a weird territorial thing between fliers.

Specifically: Seekerkin.

It would have been hilarious if only you weren't the prize between winged, feral cats.

This isn't a mechling's romantic fantasy of multiple suitors vying for their spark. It's honestly exhausting, especially since more than one Seeker enjoys manhandling you away from work, the elevators, the bridge, and anywhere else that isn't near Thundercracker and a blanket pile.

And you allow it because the only serious attempt you tried to ward one of them away with a taser with an output to put down a convoy, it caused a riot.

Or at least that's what Hook said, you have no idea. One moment you had Dirge lunging after you, armor smoking, and talons out; the next moment you wake up in an unknown room inside a criss-cross of data-cables and stuffed full by Soundwave.

(Your jaw ached and you couldn't walk straight for a few days, and sitting was completely out of the question.)

You're trying to free a limb from the mass of blankets, and you immediately have every single pair of Air Force wings flicking towards you. They seem to overtake and/or bully out all the occupants from the nearby tables. You can smell the expensive polish, even from a distance.

“I should get back to work.” Your words are muffled as you finally wriggle out a hand and start pulling and pushing to freedom.

“Oh no,” Thundercracker demurred, calm as always and not helping by placing another cube in front of you. “Starscream approved of you having a longer rest time, especially with your complications.”

You have no idea what kind of blackmail or leverage the blue Seeker has because the rest of the Air Force is in his hands. None of the others dare to approach the table of just you and him.

All of the other mechs were willing to pit themselves between Skywarp and your Soundwave, but if there's Thundercracker in the vicinity? An immediate "no go" zone.

"Have you had a nursery shower yet?" Thundercracker asks as he adds something to your cube. It tastes zangy with the additional cobalt and mercury.

"Nursery shower?" You feel damned because your comms (you had never passed it out, so someone snitched) is immediately flooded.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Noah was chatting away happily with Alejandro.

When Alejandro laughed at one of Noah's sarcastic jokes, Noah caught sight of the necklace that hypnotized him glinting almost temptingly in the light. Noah felt the weirdest mixture of warmth and nervousness buzzing in his brain. Ever since that hypnosis session with Alejandro, he felt great. He feels energized, confident and motivated. Like he can do anything. And it was all thanks to his dear friend Alejandro. Owen was right, hypnosis isn't that scary after all.

Noah was also very grateful that Alejandro didn't make him do anything embarrassing or weird while under a trance. Alejandro truly is a great guy. Someone that Noah can trust. Someone that Noah can be loyal to. Alejandro sees Noah's true potential. Together, they could completely conquer this show!

Noah blinks and shakes his head, looking away from the necklace. Where did that come from? He felt a warm hand slowly guide his face to look at even warmer green eyes. The question in Noah's mind was quickly replaced with feelings of safety and trust.

"Noah, are you okay amigo?" Alejandro asked with a smug knowing smile, removing his hand from Noah's face. "You can tell me anything. TRUST me.~"

Noah smiles back, a wave of pleasant tingly warmth spreads all over his body. "I'm fine, really. I got distracted by your necklace's charm that's all."

"I hope you won't get distracted during the challenges." Alejandro chuckles.

Noah feels determination reignite inside his mind, Alejandro's charming words somehow creating a spark.

"Trust me, Alejandro. I won't be." Noah smirks smugly, a fire in his eyes.

Alejandro is pleased to see this fire.

"Hey, Noah! Want some cookies buddy?" Owen calls out.

Noah smiles and walks over to Owen, much to Alejandro's secret displeasure.

"Yeah, thanks Owen." Noah said as he takes two of the chocolate chip treats.

Much to Noah's confusion, Owen looks a little bit guilty. "I guess it's my way of saying sorry."

Noah raises an eyebrow as he eats one of the cookies. "Sorry for what?"

"For not keeping my promise."

"What are you talking about?… Wait- Did you let him hypnotize me into doing something embarrassing?!"

"No! Nothing like that! It's just that… Remember how you woke up in the loser class, instead of the cargo bay?"

"I thought you had carried me back."

"That was Alejandro… but before he did… he asked all of us to leave… so it was just you and him… he said it was because you needed rest, and he wanted to make sure that you got it… even though you seem much happier and energetic now, I still feel bad for not staying… hence why I have the apology cookies."

Noah's blood freezes at hearing this. He was left all alone. With the charming, clever and manipulative Alejandro?! Noah didn't even truly notice the changes in his mind until just now: the tweaks in his personality, his sudden desire to win and his sudden loyalty to the handsome taller teen. And why does he think Alejandro is handsome?!? Noah hopes that's only an effect of the hypnosis!

Noah slowly turns to look at Alejandro, who simply winks at Noah and silently gesturing for Noah to come back. Feelings trust and terror begin to war inside of Noah. Noah quickly eats one of his cookies, before turning to Owen and grabbing him by the arms.

"Owen, please listen to me. Do NOT leave me alone with Alejandro ever again. I think he's done something with-"

"Noah, I would like a cookie as well. Can I TRUST you to give me one please?~" Alejandro purrs, as he rubs Noah's back. The flickers of fear fade away in Noah's mind, leaving only the feelings of trust. Owen could see the light leave Noah's eyes, becoming a duller and darker brown.

Noah's serious face melts away into a peaceful one, as he looked at Alejandro. "Of course, Alejandro."

Noah gives his other cookie to Alejandro, who rewards Noah with a warm half-hug. The relaxed Noah leans in and gazes at his dear handsome friend with fondness. Alejandro gazing back at him with equal fondness and a possessive glint in his own eyes. Owen could only watch this display nervously.

The blonde wasn't exactly the brightest bulb, but even he could tell something was off with how Noah immediately forgotten his worries the moment he heard Al's words. Just when Noah was trying to warn Owen about the guy as well. It was like a button had been pressed inside Noah's brain and Al's voice was the remote. But… that can't be right. Al is a great guy and wanted to help Noah. What could he hope to gain by brainwashing his little buddy?

Maybe Owen was being paranoid and heard Noah wrong? But then again, when does Noah ever let a person he knew for less than a month hug him? Sure, Al is charming, but Noah is basically immune to charm!

"Noah? Buddy? Are you okay? Do you want more cookies?" Owen questions.

Dulled chocolate eyes and poisonous green eyes look at him silently for a moment.

Noah then says. "… I think it's best if I have a healthy snack instead, big guy. I need to keep my energy up for the next challenge. I need to stay hydrated as well."

"I can get you some celery and water. I'll be right back.' Alejandro says, playfully petting Noah's hair, before leaving to get the items.

Noah sighs happily, with a dreamy look on his face. "What a guy."

Okay, now Owen is getting scared.

Owen hesitates before asking. "Noah, do you remember that you wanted me to keep you away from Alejandro?"

Noah looks at Owen in confusion, his eyes were still dull. "What are you talking about?"

"I was apologizing for leaving you alone with him, then you freaked out and tried to warn me about something? Don't you remember?" Owen asked again, nervously.

The light briefly returned to Noah's eyes, before fading away as he chuckles softly. "It must have been your imagination, pal."

No, it wasn't. When Alejandro returned to give Noah the veggies and water, Owen excused himself to use the confessional. When Owen arrived, he could only say this…

"I know this is gonna sound crazy… but I think that Al might actually be not as great as we think he is… and I don't know what to do about it…" 😟

Anon's writing fanfictions in my inbox again; I'm not complaining, but I implore you to start posting these to an actual fanfiction site instead, where your writing can be better appreciated by the masses.

Anyway,

Love the concept. Love the execution. I really enjoy unreliable narrators, and what you had going on in the beginning there was just 💋👌 peak skewered perception.

There's a few concepts here that I either hadn't considered or purposely left out of my own fic; primarily Alejandro implanting trust and admiration of himself into Noah's head, which would make for a really cool internal conflict for Noah later down the line since he'd have to differentiate between his own thoughts and the false thoughts forced upon him. It's a really cool idea, and I'd love to see what you do with it.

[foodsies4me]

The Fearsome Four

Alright so it seems that more than one person wants a list so here we go with the first four trainees. (I will be splitting this up because like some people aptly remarked there are Too Many Trainees and writing them all down in one post is going to make for an infinitely long post. (Cries in, these were supposed to be one of characters that were just supposed to make the institute feel more lived-in. Not menaces that take over half of the story)

Maxwell Joseph Lightwood (He/Him, 9 years and a half - Not an OC though I HC him looking differently than in the series in my head)

Nicknames: Max, Maxie, Little Clover, Cricket, Little Caramel, Menace, Little Terror

Physical description: looks like a mini Alec – black hair, hazels eyes and mischief in his blood. He’s smaller than the other trainees his age, standing somewhere between 3ft 11 and 4ft (120,2 cm) Has three long gashes on his torso that span most of his chest as well as two smaller but just as thick scars on his right upper thigh, a thick scar on his left ankle and one on the inside of his right arm. (This only applies for AWG Max. Golden Words Alec is 4ft 3 (130,5 centimeters) and has no such scars.)

Personality: He’s the Menace Supreme what more do you want me to say? Culprit number 1 of the Mumbai Incident.

Extra info: co- owner of Bubbles and has a batman backpack with cartoon characters and sharks on it

2. Arjun Jaskaran Bhasin (He/Him, 9 years old)

Nicknames: Arji, Jun-Jun, Marshmallow, Chotu (nickname only his older siblings call him)

Physical description: thick dark-brown hair that’s mostly straight, dark brown nearly black eyes. He’s about 4ft2 (128,5 centimeters) and the only one of the fearsome four that doesn’t look like a mess most of the time.

Personality and tidbits: He’s quieter than his three best friends, but no less of a menace for it. He’s the youngest in his family and is close with his parents/older siblings despite not living in the same institute. He loves everything dragons and, even though he misses his family a lot, he also loves being at the NYI. Now if only Alec could get the rest of his family to work there as well…Culprit Number 2 of the Mumbai Incident.

Extra info: has a dragon backpack, yes the dragon can breathe fire.

3. Barika Fahari (He/Him, almost 10)

Nickname: Barii, Riri, Gumdrop

Physical description: short, black curly hair. Light brown eyes. 4ft 5 (134 cm) which makes him the tallest of the foursome fear.

Personality and tidbits: Barika was originally supposed to be a female character because I didn’t want Max to only have male best friends, but then Barika decided he was trans without any care as to what I had planned (hence the female name which he decided he was keeping). Like Max, he’s a menace and adores comics. His absolute BFF is Leo and those two will probably end up as parabatai in the future. Culprit number 3 of the Mumbai Incident.

Extra info: Has a The Flash backpack with a little Green Lantern keychain and ever-changing cartoon/Manga-characters on the sides. Robin, Batman and Cyborg logos are embroidered on the straps.

4. Leonard Benjamin Knightvale (He/him, two days older than Max and will never let him live it down)

Nickname: Leo, Lenny, corn chip, little lion

Physical description: light brown hair that tends to get in his eyes, green-brown eyes and 4ft3 (130 centimeters – yes, Golden Words Max teases him back for being older but shorter)

Personality and tidbits: If someone enabled Max to do one of his stunts, Leo is the most likely culprit. If nobody enabled Max to do one of his stunts than Leo was likely in a coma because he WILL enable Max’s shenanigans just to see the chaos happen. BFF’s with Barika and thinks Alec is the coolest person ever. He lacks any kind of impulse control and is currently in the lead in the “Get Ragnor to turn them into a frog” competition much to Max’s displeasure. He hates being called Leonard about as much as Max hates being called Maxwell. Culprit number 4 of the Mumbai Incident.

Extra info: Green Lantern backpack with a The Flash keychain, a Batman keychain as well as a Cyborg and Robin sticker. The Green Lantern logo in the middle lights up and can turn into different colors if Leo wants to.

Part two