#or whatever version if ‘hell’ you prefer

[sp0o0kylights]

Eddie led a weird life.

This was something he welcomed, given half the things people thought were “weird” was just his fashion sense or preference for table top games.

Small potatoes to the larger things in life, really. 

Of course, this was before he found out there was an evil version of Hawkins underneath him. 

Now Eddie did things that would previously sent his old self into a fucking coma. 

His friendship with Steve Harrington for example.

Dude saved his life and bridal-style carried him out of literal hell.

It’d have been rude not to be friendly with the guy after that, even if they weren’t both  members of a very exclusive and bloody club, with trauma and secrets that really only a select few people would ever understand.  

Sleeping over at Harrington’s half the week also made perfect sense, and Eddie will argue that to his very grave. 

It turns out nightmares suck, and waking up screaming all the time sucks even more.

Something everyone involved in this entire escapade (and all the ones prior) knew.

Because more bodies means more eyes to look out for you, and feeling safe means you might actually sleep for an hour, they all got used to showing up at each other's houses at odd hours of the night.

Pulled one another out of nightmares and got comfortable with the fact that they slept better, together.

Steve’s house in particular is typically void of both adults and annoying freshmen, which meant it's the most comfortable place for a lot of people to crash together. 

(Sometimes the annoying freshmen do show up and maybe Eddie is also a little weirdly overprotective of the whole Party now, and alright fine, he enjoys all their company, even Erica's--but who's keeping track? 

He isn’t. 

He’s busy arguing all this is perfectly normal.) 

Sleeping in Steve’s bed is where things get a little tricky. 

See, when it was more than just Robin and Eddie crashing at Casa De Harrington, they all sleep in the living room. 

Steve drags out some fancy blow up mattress (an air mattress what the fuck) and changes the couches around and long story short his fucking living room is more comfortable than Eddie’s own bed has ever been. 

But when it's just Eddie and Robin, they retire to Steve’s stupid huge bed, so large the damn thing takes up most of his equally massive room. 

(“This isn’t weird right?” He’d asked Robin once, hanging his head over the edge of the bed while Steve did--whatever it was he was doing to his hair in the bathroom. 

Robin, who was busy rifling through Steve’s drawers for a shirt to steal, stopped and looked at him, one eyebrow raised. 

“Not unless you make it weird, Munson.” She’d told him, and well, that was all the permission he needed.

They slept together in tight groups, where it was easiest to defend each other in case of Upside Down fucking monster attack.

Case closed.) 

Sleeping in Steve Harrington’s bed, without the buffer that was Robin Buckley, is where the lies started.

Because it was weird. 

It was incredibly weird, and did guys even do this solo?

Eddie hadn’t. If one of Hellfire or the band stayed over, it was a strictly floor/bed/couch situation unless there were more than three of them, and that was within Eddie’s small ass trailer. 

Sure they piled up if they had to, but it wasn't like it was with Steve. All tangled limbs and being right up in each others space, no pillow or blanket or anything as a buffer.

Hell, Eddie had woken up getting spooned or doing the spooning more than once, and no one said shit.

How Steve made it sound so genuinely normal was beyond him. 

Not that Eddie argued about it.

 Not the first time of the fifth or the twenty-fifth, and not even after Robin pointed out he was rooming with Harrington more than she was.

Because he just slept better, next to Steve.

(Steve apparently, felt the same.

Or must have given it kept happening.)

It wasn’t like Steve didn’t crash at Eddie’s trailer either--his parents had come right home upon hearing about the earthquake, and had been a bit more present after running into the joint forces of Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers in the hospital lobby. 

Add in Wayne’s own Disapproving Stare (TM) and the town being up each other’s ass to try and keep it together, and suddenly Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were hanging out in Hawkins that much more.

(Steve seemed to think it was more to save face rather than because they actually gave a shit, which Eddie felt was obvious but he wasn’t gonna say it. 

“They’re trying I think. They just--they’ve never encountered anything like this.” He’d said, a little frown line pinching his eyebrows together.

“Stevie, no one has faced anything like what we have. Your parents, on the other hand, are only dealing with what they think is the aftermath of an earthquake and plenty of people have seen those.”

Steve had sighed. Stared a little helplessly, like he knew he was making excuses but couldn’t help himself.

 “I know, Eds. I know.”) 

Them being home more meant Steve was at Eddie’s more--on grounds that Robin’s parents were fine with him hanging out but drew some kind of weird not--very--hippy line at him sleeping over.

Which was fine.

Great even, the Eddie and Steve had never slept better! Sucks to be Robin, who had to call up Nancy Wheeler if she wanted to share.

All this was, was trauma buddies being guy pals who were very comfortable with each other due to said fucking trauma. 

Steve used to help Eddie take a piss for fucks sake, and according to literally everyone else involved in the Vecna related mess, this was their fourth go round with supernatural shit.

Chances of it all happening a fifth time seemed kinda high, even if the gate was supposedly closed and the psychotic meat puppet madman six feet underground. 

Sharing was caring, and caring was not letting your new buddy you saved fight off monsters alone if they popped back up.

Plus he and Steve spent a huge amount of time together, almost as much time as Steve did with Robin.They were all in each other’s back pockets to the point that Eddie’s band was used to it, with Gareth even starting to make secret lover jokes about it all. 

(The dick.)

They were just really good friends dealing with the shit life had dealt them. That was it, that was the whole ass story.

Eddie’s growing gay crisis aside.

So no. It wasn't all the time with Harrington that sent Eddie over the edge. Nor was it the bed sharing, rapidly dropping boundaries, or even the fact that Steve knew where Eddie kept his condoms (An accident Eddie wouldn't ever live down, holy shit.)

No, what sent him into an absolute, hair tearin' meltdown, was the day Steve woke up, rolled over, kissed Eddie right on the lips and then went to make breakfast.

No good morning, no how ya doin.

Steve just left Eddie there, clutching onto the sheets for dear life and mildly terrified he’d just hallucinated the entire encounter.

(Hell, maybe the whole thing was hallucinated. 

Maybe he died in the Upside Down and this was some sort of sick version of the afterlife. 

Eddie pinched himself, and when that wasn’t enough, bit his own knuckle. Both hurt, which was unfortunate, because death seemed preferable to dealing with life right then.)  

Unfortunately for him, Steve did not run back into the room with a myriad of excuses, which meant Eddie had to experience the horrifying ordeal of getting out of bed, putting his clothes on and going into the trailer’s kitchen--because Steve hadn’t even had the decency to wreck Eddie’s life at his own house. 

‘What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck--’

Heart galloping, Eddie put on his big boy pants--metaphorically and physically--before stepping out into the kitchen and confront his friend.

Who was cooking shirtless, without a care in the world. 

It still took him a full thirty seconds to get his mouth to work.

“Hey Stevie? Do you want to tell me what that was about?” 

"Hmm?” Steve replied. His eyes were hooded, hair mussed in a way Eddie knew only a few select people had ever seen it.

He looked half asleep, and proved it a second later when he reached twice for the one of the two mugs on the counter and missed entirely.

Eddie swung in, grabbing one and offering it out for Steve to pour coffee into, before swapping it out for the other mug once Steve was done. 

Stayed in Steve’s space even as the former jock fussed with adding in milk and sugar and whatever else he was feeling, working up the courage to say something.

Anything. 

“Uh, the--just now?” Eddie squeaked. He coughed to clear his voice, trying desperately to act normal.

Look normal.

Like he hadn't just been kissed by the guy he had absolute worst crush on.

Steve, bless him, didn’t tease him. Just shoved one of the mugs into Eddie’s hands and kept the other for himself.

Took a nice, slow sip, adam's apple bobbing and Eddie quickly averted his gaze, staring firmly into his coffee. 

“What happened?” Steve asked a second later, sounding a touch more clear, and not at all like he was experiencing deep regret, or dodging the question, or even aware of what had happened. 

Eddie had two seconds to realize that hell, maybe Steve really didn’t know, before his mouth once betrayed him. 

“When you kissed me?” And motherfucker, for once, Eddie wished he would think before he fucking spoke.

(Wayne had always told him he'd come to regret it. He just hadn't thought it'd be like this!)

“Oh.” Steve said, very anticlimatically. “I didn’t realize I did that, sorry.” 

Eddie's entire body twitched.

One long shudder, like it was rejecting the very words coming out of Steve's mouth.

“You didn’t,” He tried, voice dry and cracking. He realized his hands were shaking and promptly put his mug down before he dropped it. “You just--what, did that on instinct?”

“...Kinda, yeah.” Steve said and why the hell did he sound entirely unphased!? 

Was this some kind of weird jock thing? Did the basketball team all wake up together and kiss each other on the mouth?! Did they think it was some sort of straight--guy haha joke, or fucking--Eddie didn’t even know what, because Eddie was too busy spiraling. 

“Steve I’m gay.” He blurted out, mouth now firmly ahead of his brain. 

He instantly wanted to take it back.

Grab the words with his hands, and cram it into his mouth.

Maybe Steve was only cool with it if he thought Eddie was straight.

Hell, maybe he fucking did it while sleep walking or something and Eddie was the one being weird about it, or he--fuck, really did imagine it and, and--!

“I know.” Steve told him, interrupting Eddie’s catastrophizing entirely. 

“You know?” Eddie stared at him, feeling like the world had fallen out from underneath his feet. “How do you know!?” 

He actually had a pretty good idea of how Steve knew, considering they were both friends with Robin, but while Robin was comfortably out to both of them, Eddie was not. 

Had not in fact, even confirmed that he was queer to Robin herself, though he’d hinted at it plenty and shared more than one inside joke.

Didn’t think Robin had outed him or anything, but more that, well…

Steve was smarter than the kids made him sound, that’s for damn sure. 

“Honestly dude? You’re not subtle.” Steve told him and at least he finally sounded serious.

Like this was a much needed conversation and not some weird tangent Eddie was on. 

“The handkerchief, that triangle pin that you and Robin both have, the fact that you once jumped in my pool to get away from Dustin asking about you're dating life."

He rolled one hand in an etc. all gesture, before adding;  “Also there was that time you and Robin got absolutely smashed on my dad’s whiskey and argued about who the hottest Rocky Horror actor was.” 

Eddie’s mouth sprang open to defend himself, but absolutely nothing came out. 

When had they even watched Rocky Horror together!? 

“You kept insisting the guy who played Brad was hotter than the one who played Rocky, remember? I thought Robin was going to strangle you because she like, adores Susan Sarandon.” Steve continued, like they were having one of their playful little spats and not--not discussing Steve kissing him!

“You guys asked me to tie-break,” He added slowly,  like he was trying to jog Eddie’s memory. “and I told you guys I thought both were hot.” 

Which--oh.

Oh.

“Okay so you’re…?” 

Not going to kill me is what Eddie intended to say, but Steve took it as another question entirely, and answered with a nod and a hum. 

Which--okay. 

Steve Harrington was bisexual, and also already thought he’d come out to Eddie. 

He could roll with that. 

That was not the problem, at all. 

The problem was; “That doesn’t explain the kiss though?!” 

Steve finally put his coffee down, huffing out exasperatedly. “I  wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t realize I did it, man. We share a bed a lot and I guess I wasn’t--I must have--” 

And now, finally, Steve was getting embarrassed. A red flush spread across his cheeks and down his neck, vivid even on his tan skin. 

He ran a hand through his hair, and Eddie knew purely from the sheer amount of time they spent together that it was a self-soothing action. 

“I guess I’m sorry?”

It came out less as a question and more as an accusation-- which Steve himself seemed to hear because he immediately corrected it with a far less sassy and much more sincere; “No I am--I’m sorry.” 

None of which answered why Steve had kissed him. 

“You didn’t think I was Nance, did you?” Eddie asked, because apparently he just couldn't stop while he was ahead.

Maybe he should have died. It'd be better for both of them, considering he was doing about as good as kicking Steve while he was down.

Steve, the guy who had saved Eddie's life and was now one of his best friends and here Eddie was, dragging this out of him like a moron.

“No.” Steve said immediately. Reflexively, almost, firm and sure. “I am very aware you’re not Nancy.”

‘Let it go Eddie. Don’t make it weird Eddie. Just laugh it off and say okay--’

“Then who did you think it was? I mean you said it was instincts and like, I'm not stupid. I know I can be confused for Nance in the low light, it's happened before but--"

Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

“I didn’t think. I knew it was you." Steve interrupted. "I knew I was kissing you, Eddie."

Oh god, just kill him now.

Hell he'd even take a Vecna death! With all the gross gore and the shitty villain monologue!

"This morning I was tired, and I was sleepy, and I apparently skipped the part in my head were I asked you out and we were dating.” Steve deadpanned at him.

Eddie gaped, mind shattered and rapidly reforming.

It was like the universe was recreating itself, only this time all the stars had aligned and his wish had come true and some Disney director had taken control of his life--

“But I get it if I’m not your type." Steve was saying, because Steve was perfect.

And Kind.

And wanted to date Eddie.

"I’m sorry if I made things uncomf-mmphhh!” 

‘Mmmph’ because Eddie had flung himself at Steve, face first, the second "I asked you out and we were dating" had finished processing.

(Which was alarming fast, considering he'd been struggling all morning.)  

‘D--ff--ing?” 

Steve laughed in his mouth as Eddie tried to talk while kissing, pulling away slightly and holding his chest back with a hand when Eddie tried to chase him anyway. 

“Yes, dating. As in, would you, Eddie Munson, like to go on a date with me, Steve Harrington?” 

“Yes.” Eddie’s mouth said. 

At least this time it and his brain were on the same wavelength. 

“Yes I very much would.” He put some weight into his lean, making it harder for Steve to hold him back. “I think you can tell, by the way I'm trying to kiss you. Which you are not doing."

He pouted, and refused to be embarrassed about his behavior.

Steve laughed, and he might have said something like “God you changed up fast” except he had given in and let Eddie close again, and his words were now being swallowed down.

Eddie's life was weird alright, and now it was weird even by his own standards, but he wouldn't have it any other way.

[6esiree]

Getting Dared To Call Them Daddy Pt. 3

Summary: You get dared to call Valentino and Angel Dust daddy.

Warnings: Swearing, slightly suggestive, Val being Val. I speak Spanish but not Italian, so I just went off of what I found online. Forgive me if I’m incorrect ❤️‍🩹 Also decided to reupload this to see how it’ll do + I made some minor changes.

Valentino:

Your sentiments about Valentino were mixed. As a bartender, the last thing you wanted to do was chat it up with the patrons, especially because they usually only spoke to you to try to get into your pants. While the moth wasn’t that blatantly obvious with his intentions, the language he used with you subtle and strangely bordering along sweet, you knew what he did for a living.

He was a pimp, exploiting people for money and power, so you didn’t trust him all that much. Still, you couldn’t help but find him…attractive, appreciating the moth from afar with fleeting glances. That was all you allowed yourself to do, prohibiting your mind from traveling past the superficial thoughts, and you made sure of it by being curt with Valentino whenever you interacted with him.

You did this for the longest time, but then Velvette convinced you to play a game of Truth or Dare one night, and suddenly, you had to interact with the moth in the worst way possible. “I dare you to call Val daddy,” She said, immediately halting what you were doing as you processed her words. Had she noticed the way you looked at Valentino? No, there was no way she had…or had she?

“I’m sorry, what?” You stammered, setting down the glass you were cleaning. “Come on, Vel—why the fuck should I do that?”

“Got a bone to pick with that fucker, that’s why,” Velvette said, shrugging before tapping the counter, asking for another drink. “Trust me, babe, he won’t hurt a single hair on your head.”

You complied, feeling slightly relieved that her dare had just been a mere coincidence. Slightly. You still had to call the moth daddy, which was weird because how the hell would that constitute as payback? That’s what you wondered as you grabbed a bottle of tequila, serving Velvette a shot knowing damn well that she preferred cocktails.

“Okay, but that doesn’t help me understand why I should do it,” You said, sliding the shot to her.

“Look, you’ll understand when you do it, alright?” Velvette said, shooting you a dirty look before downing it like a champ in front of you. “Also, never mind calling him daddy,” She added, and you would have sighed in relief if she hadn’t continued, “Say ‘Papi,’ or however the fuck you say daddy in Spanish.”

Yeah, if you used the Spanish version on Valentino, you weren’t going to be able to walk away from him—literally. You might as well ask him to fuck you. As you opened your mouth to protest, a familiar face slid onto the stool next to Velvette. ‘Fuck,’ you thought, averting your eyes and focusing on the dirty glasses you had set aside, trying not to panic.

“Do what?” Valentino asked, chuckling when Velvette shot him a glare over her shoulder.

“Nothing.”

“Uh-huh.”

Even though the background was filled with the chattering of people and the incessant sound of slot machines being used, the silence that enveloped the bar was painfully loud. You decided to speak up, the tension between the two overlords only serving to exacerbate your anxiety.

“So, uh, what d’ya want, Val?” You asked, clearing your throat.

Valentino turned to you with a hum, his antennas moving at the sound of your voice. As he faced you, you were glad that he had no pupils, irises, or whatever they were called, feeling only slightly intimidated under his stare. Your throat bobbed in anticipation as you watched him contemplate your question, though.

“Hm, tell me, what does the pretty little barkeep recommend?” Valentino eventually asked, his gold tooth glinting under the dim light as he grinned.

“Well, what are you craving?” You asked, backing up and leaning onto the counter behind you, gesturing to the various liquors around you, “I can make you anything—been doing this shit for a long time.”

“You know what? Surprise me.”

Valentino perched his chin on top of his knuckles, intent on watching you work. You mentally sighed, turning around and grabbing the first bottle of liquor you saw, which happened to be rum. It was easy to make something good out of it, so you had a cocktail whipped up for the moth in no time.

“Here ya go—oh! Where’s Velvette?” You asked as you turned around, the stool next to Valentino empty.

“Over there being a fucking piss baby,” He gestured to the other side of the bar with his head. “Nothing new.”

Velvette moved several stools down while you were making Valentino’s drink, which was a bit funny to think about, admittedly. She looked pissed, but he didn’t seem to care, his claws brushing against the back of your hand as he accepted the cocktail. You mentally cursed yourself out for the way your body reacted to the gesture, goosebumps littering your skin.

“Thank you, cariño.”

You were about to ask Valentino if he liked his drink, but then you felt something hit your arm, looking down at your feet to see a crumpled piece of napkin. Yeah, it had to be Velvette. You raised your head to look at her, and oh, did you regret doing that, the way she mouthed “Do it,” with a serious expression making your heart drop.

Chewing your lip, you backed up, hoping that everything would turn out fine. It probably would, especially as Valentino wasn’t that much of a threat compared to the other Vees. You couldn’t even imagine a worst case scenario if you wanted to…unless it had to do with the whole avoiding him thing—then no, everything would not turn out fine.

“So, did I do you right?” You asked, trying your best to appear nonchalant as you leaned over the counter.

You suddenly became painfully aware of everything Valentino did, but you particularly liked the way his antennas moved whenever you spoke, seemingly delighted by the sound of your voice. He placed his drink down on the counter, slightly craning his neck as he took in the sight of you. This was the longest you had ever interacted with him for, and judging by the look on his face, he knew that.

“Of course you did,” Valentino chuckled, the nickname affecting you more than the first time, “It would have been obvious if you hadn’t, no?”

“Right,” You said, feeling Velvette’s stare burn into the side of your head.

Valentino offered you a sly smile as he picked up his drink, but before he could attach his lips to the rim, you reached out and wrapped your hand around his. The way his eyes widened as you leaned in and helped yourself to something that was not yours felt so…powerful. He quickly recovered, though, and you knew that when the scent of cigarettes and alcohol wafted into your nostrils.

“Hm, yes, it would have been obvious,” You hummed, throat bobbing as you swallowed the alcohol.

“I told you,” Valentino said, thinking he had you right where he wanted you.

“I just had to make sure, y’know?” You said, resting your cheek on your palm, looking up at him through your lashes. “Now how’s about you do me right, papi?”

Just like that, Valentino switched up, recoiling as the word left your lips. It’s not that he didn’t like it—no, he fucking loved it. In fact, he’d rail you right there on the counter, forcing you to call him papi over and over again until your voice went hoarse. But the moth knew that you’d never willingly do that, the way Velvette cackled on the other side of the bar a testament of that.

Now, Valentino was pissed, and because you couldn’t tell who it was directed at, you tried to apologize. “I didn’t—“ You started, but then he grabbed your face, bringing you in for a searing kiss that left you feeling rather…dizzy, intoxicated even. “Once I handle this pinche puta desagradecida,” Valentino spoke against your lips, a wicked smile on his face as he watched a pink streak trickle down the corner of your mouth, your eyes half-lidded, “I’ll do you right, baby, mm?” You could only nod, feeling defeated, but at least he’d make you feel good.

Angel Dust:

The first person you befriended at the Hazbin Hotel was Angel Dust. He was friendly—too friendly, even—but you didn’t mind. You liked him, and honestly, you thought he liked you too. But then you saw how often he seemed to be in Husk’s space, never missing an opportunity to invite him into his bed. That is why you took everything Angel said or did with a grain of salt, failing to notice the way he looked at you longingly from across the room, wishing that you reciprocated his feelings.

But when Angel introduced you to Cherri Bomb, a close friend of his, you started to have second thoughts about everything. She quirked a brow at you an hour into a game of Truth or Dare, her eyes darting between you and Angel, who was practically glued to your side. You shrugged Cherri off, though, because what were you supposed to tell her that she didn’t know?

“Shit, ran outta beer. I’m gonna go get me anotha’ one,” Angel announced as he stood up from his spot on the couch. “Don’t ya two play without me, alright?”

Yeah, Cherri didn’t care, and she made that known as she turned to you with a wicked smile on her face. “Truth or Dare?” She asked you, taking a swig of her beer as she waited for your response. You didn’t want to come off as lame, so you put on a brave face and said dare, never anticipating that she’d make you confront Angel in the dumbest way possible.

“Bold—I like it!” Cherri said, looking over her shoulder before suddenly seizing the collar of your shirt. “Come ‘ere, darling.”

“What are you—“ You started.

But you interrupted yourself with a gasp, your faces only a few centimeters apart as she pulled you in. What the Hell was Cherri up to? You wondered, your nose crinkling when her breath fanned against your face. She eventually turned away and settled her lips next to your ear, which you were glad about…until she hit you with something even more unpleasant.

“I dare ya to call Angel daddy,” Cherri said, letting you go before you could process her words.

You shook your head, confused by the idea of calling Angel a term he sometimes referred to himself as. And what would calling him daddy achieve, exactly? Except for making things awkward between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, what?“ You stuttered in disbelief. “That’s—no! I can’t do that!”

“Wait, nah, you’re right,” Cherry said, but she wasn’t agreeing with what you thought she was agreeing to. “Do you know Italian? ‘Cause I think it’d be more effective if you said it in Italian.”

“No,” You deadpanned.

“It’s like, papino, or uh, paparino? Some shit like that. But neither sound that hot, ya know?” Cherry continued. “You can just call him papi, ehh…no, papino.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” You scoffed.

Angel liked Husk, and the last thing you wanted to do was get in between that—or did you?

“What? You gonna pussy out?”

No, you were not, but out of all the things Cherri could have dared you to do, why…that? She laid back on the couch adjacent from you, innocently swinging her legs over the armrest as you rested your face in your palms. You were so busy mentally cursing yourself for caring about how Cherri perceived you that you jumped when the couch dipped next to you.

“Is everythin’ alright with ya?” Angel asked you, your eyes widening when he settled a hand on your back.

As his fingers delicately stroked your spine, an act that felt intimate and therefore forbidden, you figured out Cherri’s reasoning behind her dare. You lowered your hands, peering up at Angel to see him looking down at you with genuine concern. His hand halted as your eyes scoured his face, but when a blush creeped up his neck, embarrassment flooded your brain.

Angel didn’t even look at Husk like that, you realized, most likely fooling around with the poor old bartender because you didn’t seem to reciprocate his feelings. That was a painful thought, but you had no time to beat yourself up over that, especially with Cherri watching you and Angel thinking something was wrong with you.

“Shit—no, sorry,” You quickly said, straightening your back and offering him a smile.

“Are ya sure, honey?” Angel asked, your stomach flipping at the endearing term. That was a first. “Ya took, like, quite a while to answer.”

“Yeah, do ya need to cool down for a sec?” Cherri added, a smug look on her face.

Of course she was acting innocent. But it made sense, considering that the two of you continued to play the game despite Angel telling you not to do so.

“Nah, trust me, I’m good,” You said, trying not to glare at her.

“Ehh, I’m startin’ to think that somethin’ happened while I was away,” Angel said, folding his arms as his eyes darted between the two of you, obviously suspicious.

Cherri downed the rest of her beer, saving herself from having to respond to the spider and leaving you completely at his mercy. It was times like these where you regretted skimping on drinking, so you had no other choice but to get over the stupid dare.

“Yeah, I have no idea what you’re going on about,” You said, leaning back into the couch and crossing your legs.

“I ain’t blind! The two of ya are actin’ all weird and shit,” Angel said, standing up and wildly gesturing around himself with his hands. “I was only away for a few minutes, so what the Hell did ya guys talk about in such a short span of time, huh?”

“Oh, you wanna talk about ‘actin’ all weird and shit’?” You got up from the couch and approached the spider.

Cherri sat up, interested to see what you were up to. You weren’t a pussy, and you were going to show her that.

“I—uh, what?” Angel shook his head, his brows knitted in confusion.

“Please, you act weird all the damn time!” You started, observing how flustered he was under your stare. “Yet I don’t tell you shit.”

“I don’t know what ya talkin’ about—“ Angel started.

“Bullshit.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder, his body immediately growing tense. This was the first time that you had touched Angel, so you weren’t entirely surprised to see him react the way that he did. But when you trailed your hand down, your fingers disappearing into the fluff of his chest, that just proved to you that whatever he felt towards you was different.

“This—do you feel this?” You asked him, noticing the way his heart-rate picked up underneath your palm. “Yeah, that’s what you do to me all the time.”

“This—do you feel this?” You asked him, noticing the way his heart-rate picked up underneath your palm. “Yeah, that’s what you do to me all the time.”

“I, uh—it ain’t no different than how I treat Husk,” Angel weakly countered, a nervous chuckle escaping his throat.

“I’m not talking about Husk,” You said, trying not to glare at Cherri as she squealed. “I’m talking about this,” You placed your hand directly over his heart.

“I make ya feel like…this?” Angel stuttered, reaching up to place his hand over yours.

“Yes.”

“Then why didn’t ya tell me anythin’?”

“Because of Husk.”

Angel stared right through you, thinking about how the two of you could have been together if you’d been honest from the start. That was what you gathered from his facial expressions, observing how they alternated between happiness and disappointment.

“I feel like such a jackass,” Angel admitted, pulling you in by the waist with his second set of arms. “All this time ya liked me, and I thought ya didn’t ‘cause—ah, I fucked up, huh?”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything either,” You smiled at him.

“That don’t compare to what I did,” Angel scoffed. “I mean, the whole time we could’ve—“

“How about you shut up and give me a kiss, papino,” You said, reaching up to cradle his face, thumb caressing his cheekbone.

You would have received your kiss if you hadn’t added the last part, but hey, you weren’t complaining. The way Angel melted in your arms was reward enough. “Did ya really learn Italian…just for me?” He asked you, too busy swooning over you to notice how your arms trembled as you held him. “Yeah, uh, something like that,” You chuckled, shooting Cherri a glare when she tried to interject. “I think—I think he’s the one that needs to cool down now,” She laughed, but the spider shook his head, mumbling something about wanting to do the opposite in bed with you. Yeah, you were in for a long night.

Credit for Angel’s part:

@/hazbingirliexoxo

(Not sure if they wanted to be tagged again)

[artytaeh]

honeymoon!Mattheo? Also I'm so obsessed with your pages aesthetic, especially since I've been on this app for like 3 years and just changed my profile picture... anyways adore you and your writing <3

this is so sweet! i melt everytime i reread this rq, i swear. tysm for reading my posts and accompanying my writing, also for requesting 🌷 honeymoon!theo was a silly shower thought— i didn't plan to do a version of it. however, since you're asking, i just can't say no; so i hope that you like it, love! ♡

warnings: includes smut, so obviously it's advised for +18 readers; read at your own risk. brief mentions of trauma from being the son of bellatrix lestrange + the dark lord.

honeymoon!mattheo who felt like these next two weeks outside england, just the two of you, were like a blessing after your wedding day— don't get me wrong, mattheo riddle feels like the luckiest motherfucker to have been the one to marry you, the man who put that ring on your finger and to see you walking down the aisle to him. even so, fucking hell, how can a celebration for your marriage be so, so exhausting for the two of you? mattheo himself begged you to take off those heels; it was paining him to see you in them after so many hours, really!

honeymoon!mattheo who was ecstatic at the idea of going out of the country with you, of all people. sure, he's been out of england: he studied at hogwarts, which is in scotland; italy too, courtesy of theodore's invitations to spend a few weeks or most of the summer break at his family's estate; that one time that draco bragged about his wealth and took all of his friends to spend weekends or some days somewhere through europe. but travelling with you? that's different. this isn't a vacation with the boys; he's on his way to enjoy two paradisical weeks with the love of his life— just. the. two. of you.

honeymoon!mattheo who planned these vacations with you — where do you wanna go? how long would you like to stay? would you rather somewhere to rest and do nothing, or travelling around? truthfully, mattheo had his own preferences; as fun as it is to explore new places and unraveling different cultures, mattheo was a bit (a lot more) into seeing you in bikini most of the day. visiting a city or some nearby mexican tourist attraction is totally fine by him; a few were chosen by the two of you during a rainy day, cuddling on the sofa as you and him daydream about the sound of waves, sunny days and heat tanning your skins. with a laptop in front of you, mattheo checklists and makes notes of whatever was decided that day.

honeymoon!mattheo who jumps straight to the bed as soon as you arrive to the hotel's bedroom. soon, strong arms pull you close to him; mattheo spends some minutes like this with you, cuddling and feeling you close, nevermind how warm it is in mexico during this time of the year, not giving a flying fuck if you two are sweaty. mattheo riddle needs to rest after so many bloody hours inside a plane, and dealing with the airport's burocracy. fuck, there's a fucking spell for everything in the wizarding world, how come no one found a better way to travel between two continents already?!

honeymoon!mattheo who has his arm around your waist at all times. walking together? mattheo is there, hugging your waist, matching his usual long strides to your calmer pace, making sure that you're the one leading the speed of your walk. taking a stroll on a nearby city or exploring the streets? mattheo riddle won't unwrap his arm from your waist, fingers gently tracing the curve of your side, as you two comment about the beautiful streets you walk by and how good all of these restaurants smell. and, well, if his arm becomes bothersome because of the heat, mattheo is happy to hold your hand— as soon as it becomes sweaty, mattheo himself moves to your other side, to take your other hand in his, nevermind if he has to repeat this ritual every five minutes.

honeymoon!mattheo who drags you to play on the beach with him! this man will proudly buy a kid's kit for himself: a set with beach toys, including a bucket, shovels and other stuff to build castles on the damp sand. obviously, the set is green, if there's that color option— hey, all of those years as a slytherin, wearing a green tie on a daily basis, got him a little attached to the color, alright?!

honeymoon!mattheo who looks like a man preparing himself to go to war, as you patiently massage the sunscreen on his face, warm shoulders and back, along with the rest of his body; you don't trust your husband to apply the sunscreen correctly, since mattheo is all too impatient to go have fun. he does the same to you, of course; pulling you to his lap, big hands making sure that your smooth thighs are protected by the sunscreen— maybe a little too much, since you grow suspicious that mattheo caresses your thighs for a moment longer than necessary. hey, he's a man in love; can't a husband appreciate his wife's beautiful body?!

honeymoon!mattheo who lowkey tries to learn how to speak spanish, or at least simple phrases; thank you, hello, please, and perhaps being a little more observant to catch a curse word or two. god forbid mattheo catches on how to compliment you— now, each time you show your outfit, smile or do something as simple as existing near mattheo riddle, he grins and dramatically pronounces: 'guapissima! bonita, muy bonita.' — sneaking a squeeze on your bottom, pressing your body closer to his. you'd be at least a little annoyed, if mattheo's bambi eyes weren't so full of love for you. you know he means every single praise that rolls out of his mouth.

honeymoon!mattheo who sleeps a little more peacefully now, in mexico, far away from london and the looming notion of his ancestry. here, a continent away from his lunatic of a mother, oceans away from the knowledge of being the dark lord's son, mattheo riddle relaxes. you're married now; away from the chaos. during your wedding day, mattheo was terrified that something would tarnish this happiness with you. being physically away from all of that, on a country where no one blinks an eye at the surname riddle, mattheo is able to relax and let go of the overthinking habit he created since childhood. mattheo riddle isn't a cursed child anymore— at least not here with you.

honeymoon!mattheo who buys a lot of souvenirs. at least for theodore, he gets something that he knows that his best friend would find funny too; perhaps one or two things for his slytherin friends. then a lot of bracelets, or whatever the fuck you happen to stare for a few seconds. sundresses become part of your wardrobe, too, since mattheo argues that is sinful to not have you wearing such flattering clothes, choosing colors that you like the most, and compliment you the best.

🗯️ : matt, this is the third dress you're about to buy for me. i already have enough!

m : nonsense. you don't have any on this color, do you? besides, it's fancy to say 'hey, see this dress? my husband got it for me from mexico'; i'm helping you to brag, woman!

honeymoon!mattheo who hugs you from behind in the pool, trailing kisses from your left shoulder, cheek, neck, shoulder blades, until he does the same to the other side. he's not even attempting to convince you to lustful things— mattheo is just so in love with you. should an older couple or bitter tourists side-eye any of you, mattheo will kiss your cheek for a moment longer, staring menacingly to whoever is nosy enough to notice him and his wife. mattheo riddle, as always, doesn't even have to open his mouth; his serious expression and dark eyes being enough of a warning. as soon as they avert their gaze, mattheo goes back to the task at hand: kissing every inch of you with that silly little smile of his.

honeymoon!mattheo who takes full advantage of the jacuzzi on your bedroom. you should have expected it, as soon as dark eyes shine with mischief, a wolfish grin on his lips as mattheo riddle inevitably plans ahead— hours later, you'll find out exactly what was going through that devilish mind of his.

honeymoon!mattheo who is safe to say that fully enjoyed the warm water at night— calloused hands placed on your hips, thumbs brushing soothing circles on your hipbones as mattheo takes in the sight of you, naked on top of him, guiding your movements as you bounce on his length. mattheo fights the urge to tilt his head back and close his eyes, wanting to drown himself in the sensation of you so tight, so warm and wet around him— but then, he'd lose the bewitching vision of you, so mattheo bites his lip while his hands move lower and lower, greedily squeezing your bottom, hands full of the smooth, soft skin. mattheo watches you so intensely, that you're almost shy under his gaze; his strong arms embrace you so close to him, lips bruising the skin of your neck, collarbone, chest (and for a moment, you wonder if wearing a bikini would be safe tomorrow, giving each reddening, becoming purple hickey left on you) as he whispers against your wet skin. 'so pretty— such a good girl for me, aren't you? riding your husband so, so well. so wet and tight for me, huh? moan for me, baby. let me hear all of your pretty moans, hm?'

honeymoon!mattheo who is so gentle with you afterwards. without even having to ask, mattheo carried you back to the bedroom, patting your body with gentle movements so that the towel absorbs the water from your body, cooing at you. despite your tired demeanor, sore legs recovering on the comfortable mattress— mattheo riddle is all too energetic and blissfully satisfied, massaging your smooth skin with a body cream of yours; and trust me, it takes everything within him to not tease you, holding back any 'fun' comments about you after three rounds that got you absolutely wrecked.

honeymoon!mattheo who dedicated a part of these few days to read one of your favorite books. you see, mattheo riddle isn't really one to take reading as a hobby; at most, mattheo would have fun spending the afternoon at some bookstores to read bd, mainly about superheroes, or the ones that blaise brought from school breaks to lend to him. apart from that, mattheo's hobbies mostly revolve around drawing or listening to music— but he's making an effort for you, alright?! he is! look, he read five pages today, while you were tanning!

honeymoon!mattheo who brought a camera with him for the sole purpose to have photos with you during these weeks; as much as he adores all of your wedding photos, either with you, his best friends and other guests— this honeymoon with you must have physical evidence, not wanting to depend on his memory alone. mattheo plans to show most of them (*cough* the appropriate ones) to your children, if you ever have kids together, that is. the camera and him are present at the same place, at all times; like symbiosis, mattheo has the camera by his side to never lose the opportunity of a good photo of you.

photos of you while you're sleeping, dressing up or changing clothes, while you're relaxing on a chair near the pool to tan, swimming, at night with a flower tucked on your hair— one that mattheo picked up for you and fixed behind your ear. mattheo riddle will come back home with enough photos to decorate a wall. there's photos of you two together, too; silly selfies with you, some of them while you're sleeping by his side or on his chest, others blissfully taken by other tourists who offered such a favor. mattheo loves every single one of them.

honeymoon!mattheo who discovered that breakfast could be delivered in bedroom, four days after waking up a little earlier to shower, dress up and go downstairs to have the first meal of the day. ever since mattheo discovered such a wonder, never again— fuck that. he's having breakfast on the bed with you, requesting the staff to put an extra portion of your favorite fruits, which he'd then feed to you while the two of you are lazying on the bed after a shower, talking about whatever.

honeymoon!mattheo who suddenly doesn't hate that much anymore. at hogwarts, first years were a headache; little tiny humans that mattheo had to be careful to not bump against, or else they'd fall to the floor and god forbid professor mcgonagall saw it, should anyone accuse him of bullying. first years were also troublesome at the bloody hogwarts' train, running around like hipper active insects— however, this one little boy that came running up to you, giving you a flower? mattheo riddle couldn't help but smile, a smug grin on his lips as he crouches down:

m : hey, little dude— this beautiful woman is taken. hasn't your mother told you that flirting with a married woman is wrong? the husband might get you in trouble, you know.

honeymoon!mattheo who would complain a little less about the kids running around or simply existing around the hotel. there was this one little girl he saw at the pool, while you were getting drinks; curly hair, soft cheeks that remind him of your beautiful face— mattheo riddle is a weak man, and ever since then... baby fever. suddenly, the idea of a tiny human that is the perfect mixture of you and him, doesn't sound so scary anymore. i mean, if you and him ever had a baby, it'd be the most beautiful kid to exist; mattheo reasons that not having such a blessed child would be illegal, a heartbreaking loss to this world! (correction: a small sized demon that inherits mattheo riddle's troublemaker nature, and your charm that'll get them out of trouble ever. single. time.)

honeymoon!mattheo who tries at least once every single drink and cocktail at the bar. and more than that, makes you try them with him, which becomes a game of creating a tier list of the whole menu. mattheo will get you the colorful ones, being aware of your taste— and should you dislike alcoholic drinks, well, mattheo is a man that is unknowingly considerate, making sure to taste the drink first (so that he's sure that it tastes good, according to your preferences, of course), before giving it to you. lowkey, mattheo riddle who becomes a bit obsessed with those drinks straight from the coconuts— he might have like, seven photos of that, some of them being selfies with you.

honeymoon!mattheo who takes you dancing. hands on your hips, feeling as you sway them, gripping at them each time that mattheo riddle has to take a deep breath to not get a hard-on in the middle of the dancefloor. if possible, he'll learn how to dance the bachata with you— be it by a free class at the hotel or some bar, or even just by staring at an experienced couple dancing with ease. mattheo would be so happy to dance with you, twirling you around and pulling you closer to him, your noses brushing as mattheo looks at you with such intensity; the love of his life, this goddess in his arms. physically can't listen to one of those latino songs without immediately pulling you to dance a little with him; fuck the stares that you might receive.

honeymoon!mattheo who wants to live right here, at mexico.

m : fuck england, let's ditch london.

🗯️ : mattheo, darling, we can't do that.

m : why not?! here's the best— no rain, no people bothering us. why can't we just fuck and chill every day like we do here?

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🌿 ’

౨ৎ spend the summer of a lifetime with me ♡ ͡

let me take you to the place of my dreams . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— ever since i posted my masterlist i've been receiving some requests; i didn't expect so many so soon! tysm for reading and requesting to my blog; i'll do my best to write and post each of them asap. ♡

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[l0sercat]

NSFW alphabet with King Baldwin IV

Please note that this is not the historical figure but the movie version. Also MDNI for my sake and yours.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He's a god at aftercare. Literally will get you whatever you need or want. He puts his needs last. When you take care of him he is shy, but very thankful.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He doesn't like his body that much due to his leprosy. He has to admit he was good looking before and during which he loved his hands, but now they're covered in sores. So maybe his eyes. He loves everything about you but more specially your hair. He loves his soft it is and he likes playing with it.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves cumming inside you. He wants to get you pregnant so bad, he wants and heir to the throne when he eventually succumbs to his illness. Even if you can't get pregnant he still loves to cum inside you.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He gets hard every time he sees you naked. Even if it's not in a sexual context. Taking a bath. Boner. Get dressed boner. Hell if you give him a kiss and shower him in praise he gets hard. He can't help it just loves you so much.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He is a total virgin. No experience. I mean he's a strict Christian so obviously no sex before marriage. He is super happy that your taking his first and he gets to experience these pleasures with you.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He really likes doggy. You can't see his scarred body which is a plus. He also likes how he can hit every angle in this position. He wants to make sure you feel good.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Serious 100% He views this act as sacred and something that your taken care of. Making a joke would just ruin the atmosphere.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Does leprosy affect pubic hair? I personally believe that he would try to keep it tame down there. It's not perfect but he put in the effort and that's all that matters.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He is sweet and a little clumsy but it's his first time so. Your pleasure is always number one. You'll have at least three orgasms before he has one.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does not masturbate. He views it as an unholy act. The only way he will cum is by your "hands". Even thinking about masturbating grosses him out.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Praise. Oh my gosh does he love when you praise him. He feeds off of your praise. He performs better if you praise him. Especially when he cums and you praise him he will go wild.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

The bedroom. He'll only do it there because it's the safest. Why would he fuck you anywhere else?

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He really wants to get you pregnant, but at the same time he doesn't because he doesn't want his kid to have leprosy. So it's more so that he just really wants to be close to you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Degradation. To him or you. If you say something degrading he will not stand for it and make you apologize immediately. And he could never degrade you because he thinks your near perfect. It would literally kill him to degrade you.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He wants to give but is afraid he'll be bad at it and it probably might hurt his scarred skin. He doesn't mind receiving but is awkward the whole time. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

He is slow until he is on the edge and picks up the pace a bit. His leprosy effects him a bit in this department. He can't go to fast or all his stamina will deplete.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

No, he prefers to take you properly. Also quickies just wouldn't be good because y'know he's king and all. He has not time to quickly fuck you.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

No he is comfortable with what y'all have now and that's all he wants.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He has bad stamina because of leprosy, so he can't last long. But he makes sure you'll have many orgasms and feel overwhelmed with pleasure. He always prioritize your pleasure over his.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Toys weren't even invented back then lmfao

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn't tease, much. He'll never deny your orgasm but he'll gently poke fun at the way your face is all red and teary eyed.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He isn't very loud but he doesn't hold back his voice. You'll hear everything that comes out of his mouth.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He likes when your on top and gently take you fingers through his hair and whisper praises. And maybe call his your king or majesty.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He's about 5-6 1/2-inches long and kinda thick. It has a little scaring due to his leprosy but it looks normal. It is not cut but he does clean it well.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It's not high but not low. He wants to do it more frequently than he does but his body can't handle it. He feels repulsed by himself but seeing you moaning his name makes him feel better.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After your both cleaned up and taken care of he falls asleep pretty quickly. Your in his arms sleeping and then he falls asleep.

[avis-writeshq]

06 — untouchable

summary: “come on, come on, say that we’ll be together/”i’m caught up in you.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn,  warnings: rated 16+ for two mentions of nakedness, short blood mention, brief mention of dead things, mostly canon compliant (s4 e23 ‘amplification’), wc: 4.3k a/n: thank you again to the lovely @astrophileous for beta-reading <3 good luck on your thesis babes MWAH SERIES MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

38 Hours Before the Phone Call – Monday, 8:42AM, BAU Office

Spencer arrives at the office with a stupidly giddy smile on his face. His cheeks are flushed as he grips a hot takeaway cup of coffee in his hands. He taps the cup idly with his fingers, bouncing on the heels of his feet as he steps out of the elevator unable to shake the smile off his face. It’s ridiculous and insane and borderline delusional but he knows it’s far from that. After all, he has a perfectly good reason as to why he is in such high spirits and that reason is you. After years of pining and psyching himself up (only to psych himself out) he managed to actually ask you out on a date. And, he reminds himself with a silly smile, he actually kissed you. And it wasn’t one of those platonic kisses, no, this was an actual kiss to the lips and he couldn’t be happier. 

He thinks back to the previous night, visualising the way your cheeks grew warm and the way your lips felt against his. His own cheeks flush at the thoughts and he remembers committing that version of you to memory. How on earth are you so beautiful? Even while sleep deprived with dark bags under your eyes or unruly hair, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. 

“Pretty boy,” Derek comments in a teasing sing-songy voice as Spencer takes a sip of his coffee, trying to appear nonchalant. “Ooh, I know that look.”

Spencer chokes a little, wiping his mouth with a tissue in his bag. “What look?”

“Someone got lucky last night,” Derek responds with a grin. “It must be the hair. I heard that long hair gets all the ladies nowadays.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Spencer is quick to deny, walking through the big glass doors of the office. 

“Who got lucky last night?” Emily asks, poking her head out of her little stall. Her eyes flit to Spencer and she grins. “Oh… I see how it is.”

“Nothing happened last night,” Spencer says adamantly, swiping a hand over his face. “It isn’t like that. Whatever we have is good. It doesn’t need to be–” He coughs quietly as blood rushes to his ears– “to be sexual. I like her. More than physically.”

Emily coos at his confession, twisting around her desk to ruffle his hair. “You’re such a gentleman, Reid.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he says through a laugh, swatting Emily’s hands away. “Being a gentleman. Some women prefer it over the whole macho act.”

“Hey, I am plenty gentleman,” Derek says swiftly, holding a finger out. “And chicks dig the macho thing.”

*** 

14 Hours Before the Phone Call – Tuesday, 7:09AM, BAU Office

It was supposed to be a normal morning. It was supposed to be an average Tuesday with your average, run-of-the-mill serial killer with daddy issues but instead, JJ called the entire team in the early hours of the morning, saying to get to the BAU as quickly as possible. 

“Case must be local. JJ said not to bring a go-bag,” Spencer says as they enter the office. 

In moments they were met with a complete arsenal of military personnel, bustling around their desks and storming throughout the office. Others were answering and sending phone calls, demanding for processes to be sped up as Hotch speaks to a group of people in his own personal office, Rossi beside him.

“What’s the army doing here?” Derek asks, his brows furrowed.

“What the hell is going on?” Emily demands, eyeing the uniformed professionals as they splay casefiles across their desks. 

They all enter the conference room where JJ was waiting for them, along with a neatly dressed Asian woman with her hair tied up in a ponytail and out of her face. 

“Guys, this is Dr Linda Kimura, Chief of Special Pathogens at the CDC,” JJ introduces, filling up styrofoam cups with water and placing them around the round table. 

“Hello. I’m sorry to meet under these circumstances,” she says as she places pills on a shiny metal tray. 

Spencer frowns at that. “What circumstances?”

Hotch enters the room instantly, gripping a case file in his iron fist. “We need to get started.”

“Last night, twenty-five people checked into emergency rooms in and around Annapolis. They were all at the same park after 2PM yesterday. Within 10 hours, the first victim died. It’s now just past 7AM the next day, we have twelve people dead,” JJ explains as the rest of team look through the manilla files. 

“Lung failure and black lesions,” Derek murmurs thoughtfully. “Anthrax?”

Spencer flicks through the papers, scanning the tox screen. “Anthrax doesn’t kill this fast.”

“This strain does,” Kimura says, an edge of fear in her tone.

“What are we doing about potential mass targets– airports, malls, trains?” Emily asks, turning to Hotch who shakes his head. 

“There’s a media blackout.”

“We’re not telling the public?”

Derek looks over at Emily. “We’d have a mass exodus.”

“The psychology of group panic would cause more deaths than this last attack,” Rossi explains.

“Yeah, and if it does get out, whoever did this might go underground or destroy their samples,” Spencer says as he sifts through the papers. 

“Or if they wanted attention and didn’t get it, they might attack again. Doesn’t the public have the right know that?” 

“If there is another attack, there’s no way we’ll be able to keep it quiet,” Hotch says urgently. “Our best chance of protecting the public is by building a profile as quickly as we can.”

Spencer wets his bottom lip nervously, his thoughts drifting to you. You work indoors all day. You’ll be fine, you have to be. “What do we know about this strain?”

“The spores are weaponized,” Kimura explains, “reduced to a respiral ideal that attacks deep in the lungs. Odourless and invisible.”

Rossi nods, almost as if he wasn’t surprised at all upon hearing the news. “A sophisticated strain. Only a scientist would know how to do that.”

“These lesions are doubling in size in a matter of hours,” Derek points out, gesturing to the less than positive crime photos in their files. 

“It’s not the lesions I’m worried about,” Kimura begins, taking an ultrasound scan of a patient’s lungs and presenting it to the team. “Its the lungs. We don’t know how to com2bat the toxins once they’re inside. And the reality is, we may lose them all.”

“The remaining survivors have been moved to a special wing at Walter Reed Hospital. Our offices will become a small command centre,” JJ tells them.

“We’ll be working with military scientists from Fort Detrick,” Hotch adds on.

“General Whitworth is coming here?” Rossi asks.

Hotch nods in the affirmative. “He’s in charge of sit containment and spore analysis. Determining what strain this is will help inform who’s responsible.”

“My team is in charge of treating all victims,” Kimura goes on to tell the team, looking at each person.

“Reid, go with Dr. Kimura to the hospital, interview the victims,” Hotch says, dishing out responsibilities. “Morgan and Prentiss, there’s a hazmat team that will accompany you to the crime scene. There’s Cipro. Everybody needs to take it before we go.”

Linda hands a small plastic container, each one having two round tablets resting inside. “We don’t know if it’s effective against this strain, but it’s something.”

Emily lets out a nervous breath as she toys with the rim of the container. “This… is really happening?

“We knew this could happen. We’ve done our homework. We’ve prepared for this. This is it,” Hotch says as reassuringly as possible before knocking his head back and taking the two Cipro tablets. 

“Cent’anni,” Rossi toasts, holding the little container out. “May you live one hundred years.”

*** 

Everyone rushes about, gathering files and resources before the head off to complete their allocated assignments. Regardless of how much is at stake in this certain situation, Spencer feels his heart spike with anxiety. It’s against protocol, sure, but shouldn’t he call you? Tell you to take a sick day and stay at home, or to just stay indoors the entire time you’re at work. Maybe if he’s lucky he could get you into witness protection. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Hotch says slowly, seemingly appearing out of thin air behind him. 

Spencer freezes, his hands pausing as they rummage through his bag in search of his cell. “I’m not.”

“You’re not thinking?” Hotch asks, raising an eyebrow. “I know what you want to do.”

“I can’t just– I can’t just keep her in the dark, Hotch,” Spencer insists, continuing to feel for his cell phone. “She could get infected and–” His mouth runs dry at the idea and he swallows thickly. “If I can protect her, then why shouldn’t I?

Aaron sighs, his forehead wrinkling as his eyebrows knit together. “I know you care about her and I know you’re worried, but she isn’t on this team anymore. If we all called home and used this information to give them the advantage that other people don’t have… is that really the right thing to do?”

“Don’t give me a moral dilemma, Hotch. This isn’t a hypothetical,” Spencer counters, finally finding the little device buried at the bottom of his satchel. “When I– when the incident with Tobias Hankel happened, she never gave up on me. She went out on a limb for me. I’m returning the favour.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment before finally, “What about the guilt?”

Spencer balks. “What?”

“If she is saved because of the information you gave her… can you imagine the guilt she would feel? She’s a selfless person, Spencer, and knowing her… well, you can guess what she would do,” Aaron says, glancing back to his office where Rossi is waving him over. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. Kimura is waiting for you.”

Hotch is gone before Spencer could say anything. He huffs quietly, guilty after hearing Hotch’s words. Even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he has to accept that his boss is right. The best way to keep you safe is by finding this UnSub before he could hurt any more people. He rubs at his eyes in frustration, stalking out of the BAU offices. Hopefully you’ll forgive him.

*** 

“Dr. Lawrence Nichols? Yeah, I read about him. He was highly respected doctor who studied anthrax prior to the attacks in 2001,” Spencer says as he gets into the passenger seat of Derek’s SUV. He rolls up the sleeves of his dark purple shirt, brushing some sweat from his forehead. “They think that he’s behind it?”

“There was a video of him at a conference with the with the National Defense Committee. He was paranoid after the Amerithrax attacks in 2001, proposing some crazy high budget to ‘protect the people of America’,” Derek explains. “He matches the profile exactly. Prentiss and Rossi are heading to his work. Apparently he got demoted into working with influenza.”

Spencer grimaces as he stares at the overgrowing rose bushes at the front of Dr. Nichols’s house, his nose scrunching up in distaste. Do people not hire gardeners anymore? He squeezes past a few bushes to follow Derek closer to the house, hissing when his hand gets caught on one of the thorns. He shakes his hand out, a scratch already blooming on the back of his hand with small droplets ot blood already emerging. 

He continues to walk into the house as Derek’s phone rings, entering the house through a glass sliding door. The whirring of the fan above him grabs his attention and he frowns. The fan is on but the door is open… someone must have left in a hurry. He takes another step forward, jolting when he hears the sound of glass being crushed under his feet. Shit.

“Reid?” Derek yells, and Spencer jumps. 

“Morgan, get– get back!” Spencer yells, slamming the sliding door shut so hard that the glass shakes. “Get back! Get out of here!”

Derek frowns, tugging at the handle. ‘What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

“No, don’t!”

“What’s wrong?” Derek asks again, tugging once more at the handle; Spencer is a lot stronger than he expected.

“What’s wrong?”

Spencer pushes his hair out of his face in frustration as he locks the door, turning back to his friend. “I’m sorry.”

It is in that moment that Derek’s eyes turn to the ground, his eyes widening in disbelief as he sees the white powder in the room leaking from a broken test tube with a bright yellow symbol for ‘biological hazard’. 

It feels like hours before Hotch and the military arrive at the house, along with an ambulance and a hazmat team. The stench of Dr. Nichols’s dead body lingers in the air even though the air-con is blasting and the air is circulating through the room. He doesn’t even want to think about the dead animals and test subjects in the cages, his stomach churning at the mere thought. From what he could tell, the doctor was dead three days ago, meaning that he couldn’t have been the one to infect those people at the park. His head is pounding and his throat itches and all of a sudden he can’t breathe. He tells himself to relax but how can he when he very well could die in here? He knows the statistics; only 55% of those who receive aggressive treatment survive. He doesn’t like those odds. 

“Hotch, I really messed up this time,” he says hoarsely into the phone, wiping the sweat off his upper lip.

“Reid, we need to get you out and to the hospital,” Hotch says firmly, and Spencer watches as he puts the call on speaker. 

“What– no, I’m staying right here,” Spencer insists, frowning. 

Derek interrupts swiftly, “No, you’re not, Reid.”

“I’m already exposed,” Spencer says, his voice straining as he turns back into Dr. Nichols’s makeshift lab. “It’s not gonna do me any good to stop working the case.”

General Whitworth grimaces in response. “He’s already infected. Now, if Nichols created the strain, he may have also created the cure.”

“My best chance is to stay here, see if there’s a cure, and try to figure out who killed Dr. Nichols,” Spencer insists as he searches through the lab for what seems like the millionth time. 

Test tubes, files, and text books litter the lab, a flurry of papers splayed across the floor. The sight of them remind him of the first time he met you when you had ran into him on his first official day at the BAU. You were a swirling rainstorm as you practically slammed your head against his chest, the paperwork you were carrying flying into the air as you toppled over like a house of cards. In that moment, Spencer could have sworn that you were untouchable. You were like a fire, burning brighter than the sun, and he would be damned if he ever made that flame flicker away. 

“Come on, Hotch, say something to him,” Derek tries again, worry laced in his tone.

Aaron hesitates as he considers his options before sighing. “He’s right. His best chase is inside. We’re gonna get a suit and mask in to you right away.”

“Don’t bother, it’s not going to do me any good. I’m already infected.” Spencer knows that if you were still part of the team that you would be scolding him about being so stubborn. Hell, you’re not even on the team anymore and you still scold him about it. 

As he continues to try and search for more clues and filtering the information he finds through to Derek, his thoughts continuously drift back to you. You and your blissfully unaware state. He thinks of the way you smile and the way you felt in his arms that day. He is sure that the universe is playing tricks with him because the one moment he finally has you, you’re ripped away from him. His mind wanders back to the way your eyes lit up and the way your lips felt against his and in that moment he’s begging. He’s begging whatever higher power there is that he is part of the 55% of people who survive an anthrax attack after treatment. 

“Hey, Reid,” Penelope’s voice echoes through the phone, sad and mopey. It’s unlike her, incredibly uncharacteristic and Spencer chokes out a quiet laugh. 

“Reid? Wow, no, uh… no witty Garcia greeting for me?” He asks, running his fingers through his damp sweaty hair. It’s disgusting and gross and he hates it because he knows that it’s a symptom of the disease. 

Penelope chuckles weakly from the other side of the line. “I can’t be my sparkly self when you are where you are.”

He doesn’t know how to respond to that so instead he asks, “Garcia, do you think you can do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“I… I know I can’t call… I know I can’t call (Y/N) or my mother without, uh–” he coughs, wiping his face with the palm of his hand and feeling his clammy skin– “without alerting everyone.”

“What do you need?”

“I– uh– I need you to record a message. Two messages. One for my mother and the other for… for (Y/N). In case anything happens to me.” His voice cracks as he speaks, his hand trembling because oh God, this really could be the end. After everything he went through going to those Narcotics Anonymous meetings, getting clean, going to therapy… this is how it ends?

“Oh, nothing is gonna happen to you,” Garcia says, wholeheartedly believing it. “You’re gonna brilliantly find ut who did this and we’re gonna treat this strain.”

Spencer lets out a nervous breath. “I hope you’re right. But if you’re not, I just… I really want to make sure that they hear my voice. Both of them.”

“Okay. Just– just give me a second,” Penelope mumbles, clicking away on her keyboard. 

“Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“This– um, it’s for my mum first…” He clears his throat, trying to keep his voice even. “Hi, mum. This is Spencer. I just– I just really want you to know that I love you, and– and I need you to know that I spend every day of my life proud to be your son.”

Penelope presses pause on that message, murmuring, “Okay. And– and for (Y/N)?”

“Is it on?” He asks quietly, coughing as the itchiness in his throat refuses to relent. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter.” His voice catches in his throat as he speaks, tears slipping past his eyes as he tries to choke out the words. “If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

“Reid?”

Dr. Kimura enters the room through the sliding door, clad in a bright red hazmat suit. “Prep the victim for transfer.”

“I gotta go,” Spencer says quickly, hanging up the call and pocketing his phone. 

“Dr. Reid,” Kimura says, walking over to him.

“You look nice,” he says drily, staring at the uniform. It looks very similar to an astronaut costume and if he were in any other situation, he would have started to laugh.

Kimura chuckles quietly. “I haven’t been in this outfit for a while.”

“How… how are the patients doing?” Spencer manages to ask, and suddenly it feels as if all the air is kicked out of his lungs. His head throbs with each attempt he makes to take in a breath and sweat pools at the top of his lip. 

“Let’s worry about you.”

“I actually… I feel fine,” Spencer lies through gritted teeth, the muscles in his shoulders aching with each heave of his chest. 

Kimura nods, her concern palpable. “Okay, if you feel any pain, I can give you something.”

In an instant, the fear of losing all the progress he has made in the past year pools to his stomach and he shakes his head adamantly, ignoring the way the room spins. “No, I’d rather not take any pain medication.”

“We can at least make you feel more comfortable.”

“I am comfortable and I don’t want to take any narcotics!” Spencer says firmly, and he can see the realisation dawn in Kimura’s eyes. 

“Okay… tell me how I can help.”

“I think the cure for this strain is in here somewhere,” he says through heavy breaths, sucking in a mouthful of air with every sentence. 

It isn’t long before the hazmat team has Spencer in a decontamination tent, the smell of sterile plastic filling his nose. They’re hosing him down behind a clear plastic curtain, Derek standing in front of him. The feeling of the cold water splashing against his back is uncomfortable, and Spencer grimaces at the feeling of his clothes sticking to his skin. It’s gross and his work shirt is growing heavy from the waterweight, sagging down on his shoulders. The anthrax isn’t helping either. It’s too hot and too cold all at once, it’s too hard to breathe and it’s like his head weighs a million pounds. 

“Go help Hotch,” Spencer croaks out to Derek, shivering as they continue to spray water on his back and front.

“Hotch has plenty of people helping him,” Derek dismisses. 

Spencer shakes his head and regrets it immediately, his head starting to spin. “He needs you more than I do.”

“Reid, I’m gonna see you off to the hospital.”

“I’m about to get naked so that they can scrub me down. Is that something you really want to see?” Spencer deadpans.

Derek grimaces before finally saying, “What if (Y/N) were here? Would you tell her to go?”

“(Y/N)  wouldn’t mind seeing me naked.”

Derek’s eyebrows shoot upwards at Spencer’s less than innocent words, immediately turning away. “We are having a conversation about this later. Take good care of him, please.”

The ambulance is stuffy and cramped, and the scrubs that he has to wear is itchy and uncomfortable. They’re menial thoughts that don’t even matter considering the severity of the situation, and Spencer wheezes out of a cough; a reminder that he might not even live to see the next day. The nasal cannula that is attached to Spencer’s nose isn’t doing much to assist him to breathe, and he coughs again. 

“How are you feeling, Dr. Reid?” Kimura asks as she checks his vitals. 

“My throats a little dry, but other than that I feel– I flee– feel…” He blanks. His mind knows the words but they get stuck on his tongue and he panics. It can’t end like this. He refuses for it to end like this. “Flee– fleel– I–”

Kimura nods in understanding, a sense of urgency behind her words. “Okay. Okay, you’re doing okay. Driver, faster!”

“Call–” Spencer tries again, the words spinning in his head. “Pelen– Penel… low… len…”

Call Penelope, he tries to say, the lights in the ambulance growing brighter and brighter. She needs to give (Y/N) the message, she needs to�� she needs to…

All he sees is white.

*** 

The first thing Spencer notices when he regains consciousness is the smell of lavender and oranges overpowering the sterile scent of antibacterial wipes. It’s comforting and familiar and he wracks his brain as he tries to remember where he remembers it from. He doesn’t remember much; only getting into the ambulance and Kimura asking him questions. He shuffles around in his hospital bed, stretching his aching muscles. He forces his eyes open little by little, and he quints at the woman at the end of his hospital bed. 

“(Y/N)?”

“You ass,” you respond tearfully, your voice cracking as you swat him lightly on the arm. “You refused treatment?”

He smiles a little, sitting up on the bed. “Hey, angel.”

“Don’t ‘hey angel’ me,” you sniffle, taking hold of his hand and stroking his palm with your thumb. “You scared me.”

Spencer hums softly in acknowledgement, squeezing your hand back. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“Dr. Kimura said that you should be free to go in a couple of days but you need rest afterwards,” you tell him, brushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. “You owe me a date.”

“I do,” he murmurs, his cheeks flushed and a giddy smile on his face despite where he is. He looks at you, you and his oversized CalTech hoodie. The hoodie in itself is ugly; a muted grey with a half-assed logo slapped to the front and Spencer has hated it ever since he bought it with what little funds he had back in college. Yet, for some reason, he doesn’t hate it so much when you wear it. “You look beautiful.”

You roll your pretty eyes at him, moving your chair closer to him. “Liar.”

“Never,” he whispers. “Never to you.”

You smile at him again, bringing your lips to the back of his hand. “You told me you loved me. Is that true, too?”

“Love,” he corrects you quietly, “and I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”

Heat rushes up your neck at his words and you beam at him, kissing his cheeks. “I love you.”

He reaches a hand out to hold the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the line from your ear to your jaw. “I love you,” he says into the space between you, before kissing you again. 

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reblogs are always appreciated !!

[jttwconfessions]

I think there's a lot about Wukong's characterization that LMK fandom misses out on. You can dislike him for whatever reason and that's ok, but I feel like it often gets overlooked that Wukong is likely only so laid back and focused on fixing his problems himself because he doesn't want to be seen as the massively violent monster he was during The Journey. His Ink Manifestations showing him being called a monster in various ways, his tendency to prefer to not fight in front of others (especially MK) unless necessary, the amount of times villains mention "the old Wukong" or how he "used to be", are all big hints to this. Hell, even him saying "me too, bud" when MK admitted that he exaggerates his naivety sometimes to lighten the mood. It seems like the depth of Wukong's LMK character is him trying to be less imposing to those around him while the (sometimes literal) ghosts of his past follow him, which is a very difficult thing to do when you're conditioned to seeing yourself as violent and scary, and the antagonists around you are trying to purposefully make you act like the worst version of yourself

[twinkling-moonlillie]

Lucifer Morningstar Relationship Headcanons!

A/N: I haven't written for Lucifer before, but this man has my heart and soul so I am going to start! Also, feel free to DM or chat! I love talking and meeting new people, and I need more people to simp with over Lucifer.

Warnings: Minors do not interact, these headcanons include both SFW and NSFW

✶ Lucifer is deeply sentimental, never one to shy away from his feelings. When he is in love, it is all consuming and a driving force for him. He would do anything for those he loves.

✶ He is a gentle lover, a tender lover; a foil to Adam, if you will. When he is in love, he takes it slow, gently drowning you in his affections.

✶ A gift giver? Absolutely! Whether it be handcrafted pieces of art that he made himself or buying you stuff that reminded him of you, he revels in the idea of lavishing you with gifts.

✶ If we are to assume that you are with him after Lilith, expect some slow burn. Not only does Lucifer have to live with the consequences of his decision to bestow free will upon humanity, but the woman he (presumably) loved left him. The guilt he fee is massive, so please just be patient with him. Let him open up to you. Don't make him feel like a burden.

✶ Once he does start to fall in love with you, the first thing he will do is take off his wedding ring. He is a little hesitant, but the way you make him feel...it's refreshing and invigorating.

✶ After years of being too afraid to dream, you rekindled his passion. How could he not fall in love with that?

✶ He loves kissing you - forehead kisses, hand kisses, cheek kisses - he will kiss you until his lips turn violet and melt off.

✶ Although he doesn't acknowledge it often, he has a tendency to be a bit possessive. Not that he is controlling, but more so that he wants to show you off. He wants everyone in hell to know that he pulled the most beautiful and kind person to ever grace the universe.

✶ Some days when he has to go to meetings early in the morning (he is the King after all), he will always make sure to wake you up softly so you know when he is leaving...only to kiss you back to sleep.

✶ Going along with his love of craftsmanship, you become his muse. There will be several different versions of you as a duck, an apple, whatever comes to his mind really.

✶ Lucifer as a whole is a bit eccentric and peculiar, but charming nonetheless. There is a reason why he was able to seduce Lilith and Eve.

✶ If you two pursue a relationship further, you must be able to get along with Charlie. Charlie is Lucifer's pride and joy, and if you can't get along...well Lucifer would choose his baby over you.

✶ But that's alright because Charlie is very easy to get along with!

✶ He frequently uses pet names such as sweetie and sweetheart, as well as angel and apple pie.

✶ He always calls you the apple of his eye.

✶ NOW TO GET ON TO THE SPICY STUFF >:)

✶ Take one look at that man and tell me he ISN'T a service top. You can't! It's impossible (/j).

✶ Lucifer is desperate to prove himself, to prove his worth, even if he knows you love him. That's why he loves servicing you; he will spend hours pulling you further and further into pleasure.

✶ We all have seen episode eight, we know that he will spend hours between your thighs until you are an overstimulated mess. He gets off on the idea of you relying on the pleasure he gives you and no one else.

✶ It's a pride thing.

✶ His favorite position to have you in is missionary. He just loves to hold you close as he slowly enters you, being able to see how you writhe and become a moaning mess for him.

✶ He also loves to hold you close from behind and pound you (spoon fucking). That's mostly reserved for morning sex though.

✶ Again, he is a deeply sentimental and loving man so he prefers to make love to you than fuck you. But he definitely could fuck you if he wanted to.

✶ His wings have a tendency to poof out right as he is on the verge of coming. Sometimes he wraps them around you, sheltering you in a heavenly cloud.

✶ He has a daddy kink and a breeding kink. No, I will not take any arguments against this.

✶ He just desperately wants to claim you fully, and what better way to do that if not through breeding your pretty pussy.

✶ But really, this man is desperately in love with you. Please let him love you <3

[shegetsburned]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | part ii ‧₊˚ 𓐐⋅

• — ft. shiu kong. kinji hakari. choso kamo. atsuya kusakabe. hiromi higuruma.

bon appétit !! @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐮 𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐠

so i think this man loves to try new dishes and makes you try new things with him with a giant grin on his face.

normally he’d take you to fancy restaurants, but this time he wanted to do something just the two of you in a calmer place.

hates for you to do anything so he’ll insist on doing everything himself so that you could relax while he cooks.

he already had an idea as soon as you guys agreed on doing this. and you can be sure as hell it involves cheese. man adores cheese, so if you do too, you’ll be served.

this time, just for you, he went out himself on his day off and bought the runniest cheese you’ve ever seen in your life. we all know these are just the best kinds.

this afternoon, you were served a burrata. it’s a soft, white, cow’s milk cheese made from mozzarella and cream. hard on the outside but filled with stracciatella on the inside which is more creamy. served with candied cherry tomato with a piece of buttered and grilled bread.

as you take a bite of the cheese he admires every expression of yours and a warm laugh echoes through the room when you show how tasteful it is.

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢

honestly, i’m thinking fast food or something.

or maybe just take-outs but in an expensive asf place.

i feel like he loves food but prefers ordering instead of cooking. he finds cooking boring and we know how much this man hates boring stuff.

will buy you whatever the hell you want, doesn't slightly care how much you want to eat, he'd buy the whole restaurant if he could.

you can get whatever you want, there is no way you can be disappointed with the meal. in a way, he ensures you’ll eat something you like by letting you choose what you want, which certainly satisfies him.

also prefers to stay cozily at home with you to eat than actually go out. so expensive take-outs it is. you don’t even have to lift your butt off the seat. it’ll all come to you.

you’ll get your favorite meal and he won’t hesitate a second to buy it for you. might seem boring but he really would buy you anything you want and silently watch you hum with pleasure every time you take a bite of that dish. your happiness is what matters.

𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐨

i have a feeling he has no idea what humans prefer to eat in this day and age so he’d do a thorough internet research to know what you’ll undoubtedly like.

“what is the most liked dish in the world?” “what do humans prefer to eat the most?” “how do i cook chicken?” “what’s the easiest, but best dish to make?”

all of this research would make him think it’s either spaghetti or pizza. and he’ll choose spaghetti, because of you know which flashback with his little bros.

sticks his tongue out while he’s preparing your meal, trying to get every portion down to the tiniest milligram right. he wants it to be perfect. and he probably thinks it’ll ruin the whole dinner if the portions aren’t right.

i’m thinking of carbonara pasta. you know the real version using eggs and pecorino with a touch of lardons.

once you take the first bite, he stares at you, patiently waiting for any sign of distaste or displeasure. there’s no way he botched it. everything is right down to the tiniest detail. and he can tell he’s done it when you quickly finish your plate and ask for more. there’s nothing making him happier.

𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐛𝐞

he’s big on fishing so i’m thinking one of the fish he caught. his favourite.

something simple but still good and he’d find the freshest and best ingredients for you.

he’s been fishing for a long time and has acquired enough knowledge and skills to know which ingredients are best served which certain types of fish. you definitely won’t be disappointed.

will prepare everything in advance, removing the pin bones in advance and every part that isn’t edible. he does it just to be sure it’ll be ready for when you’re here. also, he knows it’s way safer that way, knowing he won’t be rushing to cook it later.

man does not want to mess this up and has never worked so hard to make a perfect meal, brows connecting as he works his tired ass off. he cannot mess this up considering you’ll be the one eating it.

how about braised alfonsino/kinmedai with some rice and avocado on the side? all gently simmered in a flavorful sauce made of soy sauce, sake, mirin and ginger.

he exhales abnormally loud as soon as you finally show a smile after having a taste. all the pressure now off of his shoulders. you don’t know how glad this man is that you enjoy the fish he personally caught for you. i know he’ll now think of you every time he goes out fishing, wondering which fish you’d like most.

𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚

i just know in my heart, or at least believe, that he’s distinguished and the meal will cost him a fortune.

only the best and most expensive ingredients for you, dear.

don’t be surprised if you come back to a candlelight dinner prepared by your one and only, while he sips the most delicate wine, waiting for you.

by the way, he knows so much about wine and beverages. he knows exactly what you like and what would be a perfect mixture with the meal he prepared.

also when he cooks he likes to take his time, preparing the meal with love and attention knowing it’ll be for his one and only.

so for him, i’m thinking of seafood. he’ll serve you flamed cornish lobster with a yakitori marinade and a ponzu mayonnaise. there’ll be a garnish made of sliced radishes and nori strips. the presentation leaves you baffled. it looks like it came straight out of a five-star restaurant. it smells absolutely divine and you can’t expect less from this man.

when you start digging in, he can’t help but smile while he looks at you with tenderness and love. if he could, he’d look at you through the whole dinner and watch you enjoy that delicious meal he prepared.

© shegetsburned 2024. Please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[killuintense]

can you write a head cannon or a one shot (whatever you prefer<3) about fem!reader who is a virgin and leon’s first time? thank you and have a nice day

❝ so fast, princess? ❞

re6!leon kennedy x fem!reader.

summary: you knew that Leon was good at everything he did, but you didn't imagine that the first time between your legs would be so good.

content: 1.2k words, loss of virginity, age gap, +18 reader, body worship, kink degradation, size kink, breeding kink.

note: Ii hope you like it! i had these little ideas with Leon in his dilf era, but if you want me to talk about my hc about some more version of Leon, just ask! enjoy it ♡

Leon is a sweet boyfriend. Always careful, always taking you calmly in his arms, taking care of you from everything he considered a danger. And how could he not? In his already thirty-eight years he had experienced and lived thousands of atrocities, while you were his little girl. His little girl, who made him feel alive and young as he had once been.

That's why when the kisses went further and his hands traveled under your skirt, he always stopped. Generally he was not very discreet in his touches, sometimes when hugging you from behind, his lips would over kiss your neck and bite into the flesh with full intent to leave marks. Or even his hands massaged your breasts hungrily. But it had never been more than that.

But, fuck, you saw his goofy look when you bent down on purpose and let him look up your pleated skirt. You loved it when you played with that rough personality of his that refused to fuck you once and for all and make you stop being a virgin. You secretly laughed when he stopped the kissing session in which you rubbed her hard dick with your thighs, but covered by his pants, and ran to the bathroom with the excuse that he would be back quickly; and after a few seconds, when you leaned your ear on the door that separated them, a lot of curses mixed with your name escaped from his lips at the same time that a sticky and viscous sound became more and more constant and faster "Fuck, fuck, I need to fuck her so much...".

And what bothered you the most was how noble he could be. Going through all that repressed desire just to "give you your time" and "not hurt you" as he so insisted he would do. You didn't believe him, how much could happen? It was just sex and that was it, and you needed it as fast as you could get it.

Obviously, young and inexperienced, you had only recently come of age and could not bear not to have him inside you. That's why, when you insisted one day, pushing him to the limit, letting him not get out of bed to go to the bathroom (as was routine) and demanded that he stop being a coward and fuck you once and for all, his gaze seemed to darken enough to make you realize that what would happen next was entirely your responsibility.

And shit, he was rough and big as hell. You should have kept in mind that his age was also proof of how experienced he was, and that was clear to you his mouth was eating you, sucking and licking you so well that you didn't last more than a minute and you had to finish in his mouth "So fast, princess?" God. He was treating you so well, but he was so demanding, taking you as he wanted, squeezing all the areas of your body he hadn't been able to taste, leaving you with marks from his fingers because of how hard he was squeezing you; once you agreed to get to know that side of him, you understood why he had wanted to hold back.

"If I had known you would moan like a slut, I would have tasted this pussy a long time ago" the click produced between his mouth and you cunt was getting wetter, because you were getting hotter.

You had heard your friends say that older men were the best, because unlike younger boys, they seemed to make things less awkward and knew exactly where to touch. But you didn't know that Leon would know so well where to touch so that such obscene sounds would escape your mouth.

Leon doesn't hesitate to touch you, as if he knew your limits, to squeeze, to go slower when you wanted faster, all to make you cry and then compensate you with an orgasm. One better than the other.

The best part is when he desperately took off his clothes. While you always teased each other that he was so much bigger than you, his body was totally out of this world to you; big soft pectorals that you wanted to squeeze, arms that at the slightest bend or strain seemed to show off his veins in more detail, that marked abs, and the blond hair that forced you down at the start of his jeans.

You wanted to scream madly when he pulled down his jeans and threw them to a corner of the room, with his bulge completely suffocated by his underwear, your mouth was already watering. And you checked his size when he was finally completely naked, he looked big, dripping and about to explode. You cursed him for not letting you see more when he tugged at your thighs and settled between them.

You trembled as much as you could and he calmed you down; there he was again, the loving and understanding Leon who accompanied you until his member was completely inside you, inside you cursing loudly for feeling you so tight around him as he struggled not to cum hard at that very moment.

He took advantage of you in every way he could, taking you as he imagined every time he masturbated on your behalf, he fucked you with the force he was holding back as he drove you into the mattress and you broke down in moans begging him for more and more. The pain stopped being so stabbing as you felt the tip of his cock mistreat your womb with asperity and mercilessness, but now it seemed to smother you in pleasure "Your pussy is fucking perfect, so tight, and it's all for me, isn't it? " it seemed that penetrating you in that wild way was not enough for him, he was massaging your tits with adoration, sucking your neck with no qualms about the marks he would leave "You have no ideas of the places where I'm going to fuck that nice tight pussy you have, dammit..." his voice getting huskier and more desperate, your breasts and thighs bouncing harder and harder as the clashing of their skins got louder and louder, to the point of flooding the whole room.

You felt Leon's climax to the point that you ended up just feeling his cum fill you, as he moaned your name into your neck, and gave one last thrust. It was hot, thick, another way to mark you, to make you feel his. He kept kissing your lips, sucking relentlessly as he almost crushed you with the weight of his body, making you practically swoon from the sensory overflow you were experiencing.

And, after he'd rip you to shreds in bed, he'd take the time to clean you up, make soft little funny and loving comments; telling you how good you were, how good you made him feel, caressing you with his finger marks and hickeys or bites he'd left behind. He would make you feel hot as hell, and then take care of you like an angel.

And you were definitely thankful that you lost your virginity to him; even if it took you two days of your life to walk normally.

[ma1dita]

trouble always finds me

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.7k 

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. Luke’s perspective on trouble & how they first met! think trouble’s origin story (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

warnings: none, fluff? Mr. D being a clueless dad lol also guys they’re 14 here

a/n: welcome back to the trouble!verse hehe i was inspired by Mr. D being a bit of a jerk to Percy so that the kid doesn’t off himself. Similar concept but with Luke after he first gets to camp— another version for why trouble!reader calls him angelface coming soon

(posted 1/19/24, erm unedited and not beta’d so forgive me in advance)

—

You were always trouble, Luke knew that from the day he met you. 

Walking into Camp Half-Blood, worn out and weary after days of trying to not become harpy food, his arm was slung protectively over Annabeth’s shoulder as they were led onto the campgrounds. So many pity-filled eyes were focused on them after hearing what happened to Thalia, but the camp seemed promising, filled with other demigods who can resonate with what they’ve experienced. Luke thought it was too good to be true, but anything’s better in comparison to the streets they came from. You, however, looked at them in interest from afar, a playful expression on a pretty face watching their every move like him and Annie were shiny new toys to play with.

He was so sure something was off with you. 

Had to be, from the deranged glimmer in your eye that would appear when something bad would happen at Camp. He’d seen it in action a couple of times before you set your sights on him— setting off fireworks during capture the flag, replacing salt with sugar in the kitchens, cutting Mr. D’s hair in his sleep; all of this causing campers and staff alike to run amok and figure out who to penalize. Each time he’d find you enjoying how it all played out, excitement brimming on the cusp of revealing yourself as the culprit as he watched you bite your tongue. But as a mischievous kid himself, he wondered why you hid it. You preferred to orchestrate the show, to make a spectacle for your personal entertainment, and with a smile too soft to be considered guilty, you were a convincing actress. 

The other campers in 11 told him you’d been unclaimed for half a year now, keeping to yourself and making a safe haven within the busy cabin. You were a klutz to say the least, bringing chaos to Camp Half-Blood with a cool disposition, and you hardly seemed interested the one time Luke tried to say hi as he took the bunk next to yours. 

So why the hell wouldn’t you lay off of him?

At first it was small, shoulder bumps and raised eyebrows whenever he piped up in a conversation. That, he could deal with. Luke’s a tough guy, having gone through more than a typical 14-year old would. 

But then it just got annoying.

Glitter in his shampoo, his laundry load dyed purple, and shoelaces knotted together to make him stumble— things meant to be more of an inconvenience rather than an actual problem. Luke wasn’t sure what to make of it, or what to tell you. No one wants to be the new kid creating trouble, but you didn’t seem to have a problem with that.

Maybe you were a Hermes kid like him, but of that, Luke wasn’t so easily convinced—months of living in 11 would mean you’d learn all of the tricks of the trade, so it couldn’t automatically mean that you were related (a part of him also hoped you weren’t be half-siblings, or else the fact he couldn’t stop thinking of you would be slightly awkward). Perhaps a child of Apollo? When you weren’t being difficult, he’s seen you sprinkled in sunlight, usually humming a tune under your breath. Yesterday it was a song from the Sound of Music, and though he only remembers bits of a memory from a movie night with his mom years ago, he put his combat gear on slower just to hear you finish the song. 

Whatever you were, it was bound to be troublesome.

—

At this point in life, Luke hasn’t had many comforts while on the run. To him there’s no such thing as action without reason, without meaning.  Five years of running and not looking back makes this son of Hermes realize that he hasn’t had a chance to take a breath until he got here. It’s hard to let down your guard when you’re always supposed to be keeping watch.

He wriggles under his covers trying to relax himself before bed, purple socks sticking out of the scrappy hand-me-down blanket, and he hears a small giggle from the bed next to his. Luke shifts his weight onto his side, eyes darting to your direction in the quiet of the dark cabin.

“Nice socks.”

He blinks. Were you talking to him? His toes wiggle playfully, prompting more of your melodious laughter as he chews at his lip before he responds.

“Guess I’m getting used to them.”

“You’re getting used to a lot of things around here. That’s good,” you whisper, and thinks he can see you concocting something sinister in that brain of yours—he’s on the edge of the mattress hanging onto your every word as he realizes this is the most you’ve spoken to him.

“You did this. Why?” he says, more of a statement than a question. Why would you go out of your way for someone like him?

“Are you mad about it? Luke, right?” you mutter, a calm expression on your face shrouded in moonlight, and for a second he wonders if you actually don’t know his name until he notices the upwards quirk of your lip. 

Luke catches himself then, and the realization hits him like a blow to the chest— he’s not angry at all. If anything, he hasn’t had the time to feel anything negative with the antics you’ve been pulling. You’ve proven to be quite the distraction to his circumstances, and he can’t remember the last time he’s thought about Thalia or his mom since he got here. The melancholy falls on his countenance like a better-fitting blanket than the one he has on, and your words pull him from his thoughts before they can suffocate him again.

“Sorry about your sister. I lost someone right before I got here too. My mom.” 

This, he can tell, is not acting. Your eyes flicker to a polaroid strapped in the space underneath the top bunk above your head, two blurry figures huddled together in a memory.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what to say. In the silence that follows, he swallows audibly. Everyone’s been worried about Annabeth, including himself that he hadn’t even thought of his own emotions being on display for everyone to see. Luke never thought you of all people would notice.

You shrug, “S’not your fault. I know when people are acting though. If you know I’m the one who’s been starting shit, why haven’t you told anyone?”

Luke almost laughs at that, a rough exhale leaving his lungs as he watches your hands clutch your quilt.

“It’s pretty entertaining, I guess. You’re annoying, but I don’t mind it. Kept my mind off of things.”

He watches you smile in the shadows now, and it shines—all lips, teeth, and sheer mirth that makes his chest feel a little lighter. A real smile from you, one that doesn’t hide your true intentions.

“I’m glad. Mine too.” 

The next thing you do confuses him further, but from what he’s gathered you’re always full of surprises. You chuck your quilt across the space between your bunks, and the end of it smacks him in the face as he grunts.

“Here. Keep it,” you chuckle a bit loudly, the both of you hearing a Shhhhh… from somewhere in the dark cabin.

“What… Why? Are we friends now?” Luke mumbles jokingly, inhaling the soft scent of berries and fresh linen. His purple laundry load smelled like this too.

“No.”

“Then why are you giving me your stuff?” he says, but still curls up underneath the handmade quilt stitched from memories of a past life, of motherly love and gentle hands. He doesn’t have anything like this, so he settles into this feeling of comfort instead, even if it wasn’t his memory to hold. You go quiet at the sight of him, eyes fluttering and chin tucked into the pink and purple fabric, and he looks as soft as a normal 14 year old boy should.

“It’s getting boring in here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think,” you mumble, turning away and shutting your eyes before he can say anything else.

—

The next day, you get caught putting a month’s supply of bubble bath into the lake, but Luke’s convinced you did it on purpose. All of camp is standing on the shore, watching you wave at them from a river tube as Chiron and Mr. D yell at you in exasperation—finally revealing yourself as the troublemaker they’ve been searching for.

“Get on the beach this instant, young lady! You have no idea how much trouble you’ve put us through!” Mr. D’s voice echoes across the lake, his immortal form almost filtering through his frustration before you laugh in his face, unthreatened by the Olympian.

“Good thing I get it from you. Hello, dad!”

Jaws drop as everyone turns to look at Mr. D, the realization hitting his face as he points at you, his brain moving a mile a minute. Though you resemble your mother, your actions are all him. You revel in the grand reaction, looking up to see a purple thyrsus surrounded by grape leaves float over your head.

“Nice outfit, kid. I don’t think purple is your color. She do that to you too?” Mr. D notes Luke’s wine colored cargos and socks clashing against the harsh orange of his shirt as he pushes past him, scratching his head at the idea of another kid. Poor guy said two was the limit in a lifetime and he gets a grinning teenage girl who dares him to do something about it. He hasn’t raised a lot of girls….

“I don’t know. I guess trouble always seems to find me,” Luke laughs lightly, watching kids of all ages jump into the bubbly lake water happily. The glowing ember of his eyes are relaxed for the first time in a while— an inviting flame catching your own as you stare at him from across the sudsy water. Trouble, he thinks, a smile settling onto his face—how fitting.

He’s spent a lot of time running. But perhaps this time, he’s finding reasons to want to stay.

—

"After all, we are nothing more or less than what we choose to reveal." - Sylvia Plath

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[daistea]

Can I request a thing where reader gives mithrun chap stick, I know it’s as medieval fantasy setting and all but there has to be something to put on those messy lips 🥀🥀🥀 like slime saliva or something ANYTHING 🥺

anything, you say?

as you wish..

mithrun x gn reader

1000 words

no tw!

★・・・・・・★★・・・・・・★

Beeswax. Butter. Oil from something fatty– preferably a coconut. 

How the hell were you supposed to get a coconut in Melini?

No big deal. You’d figure it out, you were good at figuring things out. This concoction was for the sake of your relationship, of your sanity. 

Nearby, Mithrun wandered into the room. His footsteps were usually silent, but you saw his shadow stretch across the floor. You snapped the potions book shut and turned to face your partner, who only raised a brow at your tense behavior. The stare-off began. Your mind raced. Coconuts… Mithrun was smart, he would know.

“How would one hypothetically get their hands on a coconut?” You blurted out.

Mithrun remained unphased, but answered immediately, “By chance. A migrating swallow could carry a coconut overseas.”

You scoffed, “A swallow?”

“It could grip it by the husk.”

 “It’s not a matter of where it grips it. A five ounce bird could not carry a one pound coconut.”

“Depends on if the swallow is from Kahka Brud or the Eastern Archipelago.”

“I don’t think it matters.”

“Three swallows could carry the coconut together.”

“Okay,” you waved a dismissive hand, “you’re just being silly now. I’ll figure it out myself.”

You turned around to continue your perusal of chapstick recipes, yet the feeling of familiar arms snaking around your waist gave you pause. Mithrun pressed his chest against your back and propped his chin up on your shoulder. He must’ve teleported across the room to get to you so quickly. You knew his gaze was on the potions book in your hands. You knew he was staring, the gears in his mind whirring and spinning. 

“Crafting something?” Mithrun asked quietly, nuzzling his nose into your neck. Automatically, you tilted your head to give him better access. 

“I’m…” ideas ran through your mind like a flood, and you unfortunately landed on the first one that stood out, “I’m making a laxative potion. For Kabru. He’s constipated, ate too much cheese. Those bowels are stuffed.”

Mithrun let out a sharp exhale of air through his nose, his version of an amused snort. He probably knew you were lying, he always did. He seemed to have a sense for those kinds of things. Fortunately, he questioned you no further and instead started his usual attempts to distract you. He kissed your neck, his hands went to your hips, he pinned you to the table…

Those attempts usually worked. 

Except his lips were so damn chapped. Your boyfriend was extremely dehydrated. Had he even drank any water today? Mithrun had a tendency to forget that water was an essential part of existence. You yanked yourself out of his grip and bolted toward the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water. He narrowed his eyes in confusion but drank it without question. 

Now, he was allowed to distract you. 

Days later, you acquired a coconut. It was on the beach of Melini, just laying there, perfect and usable. Perhaps three swallows carried it over the sea. What was the air-speed-velocity of three swallows carrying a coconut? Whatever. You had your ingredients now. 

You mixed them into a lovely paste. It didn’t smell great, but you tested the chapstick out on yourself. It worked! You knew that Mithrun wouldn’t be offended— offending him was difficult— but your nerves still stood to attention.

This was for your sanity. This was for the good of your relationship. This was for the good of the lips you kissed every day and planned to kiss for the rest of your life. 

That night, you kept the jar of chapstick beside your side of the bed. You laid your head on your pillow and stared at the ceiling, waiting for it. The right moment would arrive in three, two, one—

Mithrun rolled over so he was half on top of you. His hair fell around his face as he looked down at you, palms pressed flatly into the pillow on either side of your head. He shifted his legs so one of his knees was between your legs, pressing lightly against your core.

Stay calm, you reminded yourself. You had a mission. Do not writhe beneath him or show how affected you are, that was precisely what he wanted.

Mithrun didn’t really have any techniques of seduction. He just blinked down at you, thinking. You sent him a smile in return. He would lean in to kiss you in three, two one–

You put up a hand between your faces to stop him. His good eye widened in surprise as his lips made contact with only your palm. You sent him the most innocent smile you could muster. 

“There’s something I want to try tonight,” you said, “sit up.”

Mithrun obeyed. He pushed himself up and away, folding his legs beneath each other criss-cross-applesauce style on his side of the bed. After sending him another smile, one you hoped was reassuring, you leaned down to grab the jar of chapstick. 

He raised a brow, “What is that?”

“A concoction,” you answered simply, “for the hydrating of one's lips.”

Mithrun took the jar, opened the lid, and sniffed the paste. “Smells like butter.”

“Yes, well, it has butter in it.”

“And coconut.”

“Yes, there’s coconut as well, mainly the oil but there’s some coconut meat in there too.”

He glanced up at you, “Why?”

“Because it’ll make things feel better,” you explained, gently taking the jar away from him and dipping your finger into it. Without hesitation, you smeared it across his lips. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brows and jerked away ever so slightly, but allowed it. 

Once you finished, Mithrun opened his eyes. His expression was flat as he stared at you, “Tastes bad.”

“You’re not supposed to eat it!”

“How could I not?”

“You’re hopeless,” but cute. He was hopeless and cute. You set aside the jar and leaned toward him, shifting your body so that you straddled his lap. His hands immediately went to your hips and he tilted his head back to look up at you. There was no reason to wait, no reason to stall. You pressed your mouth against his in a familiar kiss, you’d probably shared thousands of these with him. But this time…

It tasted bad. 

You pulled away and wiped at your mouth, “Okay, yeah, we’re not using that. I’ll find something else.”

Mithrun wiped the chapstick away with the back of his hand, then leaned up to resume the kiss. 

At least his lips were a bit softer than usual. You’d take what you could get. 

[dia-souls]

DIABOLIK LOVERS Imajin Tokuten Drama CD “Kawaii Plushie, Fanboys' Confusion!!!”

Original title: かわいいぬいぐるみ、ファンボーイの混乱

Source: Fanmade Tokuten Drama CD

Story by: Admin Afra

Seiyuu: Suegara rie, Midorikawa Hikaru, Toriumi Kousuke, Katsuyuki Konishi, Takashi Kondou, Tomoaki Maeno, Hirakawa Daisuke, Kaji Yuki,

Admin's note: Hey guys Finally, after a long time, a new drama CD by me Admin Afra. Who misses me??? Lol... Although I can't write comedy CDs and scenarios as well as Admin Irsa. But recently, my headcanon for plushie Yui has been very much noticed. That's why I decided to try this CD for this headcanon. If you like it, I will write Mukami and Tsukinami versions soon. This Sakamaki version is presented to you. I hope you like it. Don't forget to review and comment.

_This scene begins in the living room of the Sakamaki mansion. The triplets are watching Kou on a TV show.

Ayato: Why is that stupid idol in all the shows? I'm getting bored.

_Ayato changes the channel.

*Tap Tap*

Kanato: Ayato... can you please choose a channel and let us all watch it?

Ayato: Shut up!!!! Do not order Ore-sama. Ore-sama will watch whatever he likes. I don't want to see the face of that stupid idol on all channels.

_Ayato changes the channel again.

*Tap Tap*

Laito: You are right, Ayato-kun. I am much prettier. If I were an idol, I would have more fans than him. They probably showed me on more channels.

Ayato: If I saw you on TV, then I would blow up the TV.

Kanato: Me too...

Laito: Heeh... don't be so cruel. I'm sure more girls would be my fans.

_Ayato turns off the TV.

Ayato: I don't understand why there are so many channels and TV shows for girls. Why don't they make a TV show for boys? For example, the takoyaki eating contest.

Kanato: Ayato, no boy wants to watch such a show. Only you like it.

Laito: Hmmmmm. I don't like to see some boys with big mouths eating takoyaki. Even thinking about it makes me sick. I prefer to see cute and beautiful girls.

Kanato: There are idol girls too, Laito.

Laito: I know, but none of them can make my heart beat fast like Bitch-chan.

_Ayato swears under his breath.

Ayato: Chhh... Stupid pervert...

_Laito takes the TV remote from Ayato's side and turns the TV back on.

*Tap Tap*

_Laito changes several channels to a plushie advertisement.

Laito: Is that plushie... bitch-chan's plushie???

_Both Ayato and Kanato stare at the TV after hearing this. The TV is promoting the popular school club girl named Komori Yui.

Ayato: What the hell. Chichinashi???? Since when has Chichinashi been famous?

Laito: School club??? Ahhh, now I remember. A few months ago, bitch-chan said she wanted to join a school club. Hmmm, apparently, she is very popular among the boys in the club.

Kanato: IT'S UNFORGIVABLE. How dare that girl participate in the club without my permission? *SOB*.... I.... won't forgive her... *SOB*...

Ayato: That idiot... how dare she go out with other boys without Ore-sama's permission? When I see her, I will punish her.

Laito: Hmmmmm... I'm very sad to see that my dear bitch-chan has become popular with all these boys. She just needs to pay attention to me.

Shu: Pwaahhhhhhh.... can you shut up. Didn't you say just a few seconds ago that you want a TV show for boys? So why are you complaining now?

_Ayato, Kanato, and Laito flinched at Shu's voice.

Ayato: Waaahhhhh... Shu what the hell. What the hell are you doing here? When did you come here?

_Shu was lying on the couch and yawned.

*Rustle Rustle*

Shu: I was here from the beginning. You three idiots did not notice my presence.

Ayato: Shut up. You are always like this. Wherever you go, you sleep without talking to anyone. Obviously, no one will notice your presence.

Shu: Shut up... it's too loud. My ear hurt.

Ayato: Bastard...

_Shu opened one of his eyes and looked at the TV advertisement that was playing.

Shu: Hmmm... interesting... maybe I'll buy one for myself.

Ayato: Hahaha... don't tell me you like this ugly doll.

Shu: What's the problem with it? I can use it as a pillow. This way, when she is not with me, I can have her by my side.

Ayato: ...

Laito: ....

Kanato: ... I can't believe that this lazy man came up with such a good idea.

Laito: Nfu... that's a good idea. I would really like to have another version of Yui-chan too. In this way, I can do whatever I want with it.

Kanato: Fufu... Yes, Teddy will also be happy to have a new friend. Ne teddy I can dress up it like dolls to make it the most beautiful doll in the world.

Ayato: Tch... you two are very childish.

Laito: Come on Ayato. Wouldn't you like to have a small version of Bitch-Chan? Whenever Yui-chan is not with you, she can make takoyaki for you.

Ayato: Huh??? Can it really do that?

Shu: You are so stupid.

Ayato: Shut up. I have to try it myself, otherwise I don't believe it.

Laito: Nfu~ So let's go to that store and buy this cute plushie.

*TIMESKIP*

_Ayato, Laito and Kanato are walking in the store.

Ayato: Shit... why is it so crowded here?

Kanato: I can't stand people's noise. It's so noisy.

Laito: You two are very impatient. Nfu~ Be patient and then we'll go home with that cute plushie.

???: Oh my... KarlHeinz's sons are in the fanboy store. Hahaha... what a funny subject.

*click click*

_The triplets look behind them when they hear a familiar voice.

Ayato: Haaaaa..... Kino!!!! what are you doing here?

Kino: Isn't it obvious? I came looking for my dear princess. She is not with you?

Ayato: Who said she's yours? She is only my prey. Chichinashi is not with us.

Kino: Huh? what a pity I wanted to go like a lovely couple and buy that cute plushie.

Kanato: Did you come here for the plushie?

Kino: Of course. She is my lovely princess and I am her prince.

Ayato: Don't talk nonsense.

Kino: I myself encouraged her to participate in this club. They were looking for cute and beautiful girls to support animals. My dear princess was so cute and tried for animals that she quickly became popular among the boys. I'm thinking that my princess should have become a famous idol instead that Mukami.

Laito: Although I don't like you, I agree with you. But I don't want to share my beloved Bitch-chan with other boys.

Kino: In any case, this promotion is for promoting this club and because of Yui's new popularity. In addition to boys, she has become very popular among girls.

_A person with a black cape, hat, mask and glasses that completely covers his face enters the store.

Ayato: Hah... Thief...

Laito: Nfu~ He isn't a thief. He is only a shy fanboy who doesn’t like to be known at all.

Kino: Scary. Some fans are very scary.

_The suspicious man buys a plushie and quickly leaves the store.

Kanato: Heyyyyyyyy. I want to leave this store faster.

Kino: I also don't like to see other boys buy my dear princess plushie.

_Ayato goes in front of Kino and grabs his collar tightly in his fist.

*Rustle Rustle*

Ayato: Listen, bastard. I will not let you buy that plushie at all. Chichinashi is only my prey.

Kino: Fufu Ayato-kun, if you think like that... you should stop all those boys who are standing in front of the cash register buying plushies.

_Kino points to the counter and Ayato turns his head to look there. A group of boys lined up in front of the cash register to buy plushies.

Ayato: Chhh... you bastards...

_Ayato quickly releases Kino's collar and goes to stand in front of the cash register in front of all the boys.

Ayato: Everyone listen.

_Ayato takes the speaker from the vendor and speaks through it.

Ayato: Ore-sama is speaking. Get out of the store, you bastards. This girl is my prey and no one but me has the right to buy this plushie.

_All the boys and vendors stare at Ayato.

Ayato: Did you hear what I said? Ore-sama will give you orders. Hurry up and get out of the store

Kanato: Is he serious?

Laito: Oh, oh. I think we are going to be in trouble.

Kino: Pffff.... Hahahahaha.... Your brother is so stupid.

Kanato: Laito. Let's buy the plushie and go before it causes us trouble.

_Laito and Kanato go to the group of boys so that the seller won't notice that they are with Ayato.

Ayato: Oi, Kanato, Laito, why did you go to them? Let's help me get rid of these bastards.

Kino: Hmmmm. Things are getting interesting.

*TIMESKIP*

Ayato: Chhh... Ahhhhh... How is the security of that store so strong? The place where he kicked me still hurts.

Kanato: You are so stupid, Ayato.

Ayato: Shut up. It's your fault that you didn't help me, otherwise we would have kicked out all those bastards.

Laito: Shame on you, Ayato-kun... I don't like being beaten by security at all. My beautiful face becomes scarred and I become ugly.

Ayato: You are so pathetic Laito...

_Kino walks behind them while laughing under his breath.

Ayato: You bastard... why are you laughing at us? You got what you wanted. Why are you following us?

Kino: Oh... Ayato-kun don't be so mean. I would like to see my dear princess.

Ayato: Shut up. I won't let you see her.

Laito: At least we could all buy plushies.

Kino: Too bad. I wanted to see my dear princess. But I think it doesn't matter. I will call her when I get home. I can't wait to take a picture of myself and this plushie and send it to her. Her reaction must be very cute... Fufu... Goodbye. I hope to see you very soon.

_Kino moves away from the triplets while waving his hand.

Ayato: Haha... in hell...

*TIMESKIP*

_Ayato, Kanato and Laito enter the mansion.

Ayato: Chhch... My body hurts.

Shu: Pwaahh... So you are finally back.

_Shu is lying on the couch while yawning and Yui's plushie is on the pillow next to his head.

Laito: ....

Kanato: ...

Ayato: ...... How???? Oi lazy man, how did you get that plushie without coming to the store?

Shu: Huh? It's... so easy. I ordered online.

Ayato: ....

Kanato: Haaaaaaa???? WHAT DO YOU MEAN? WE COULD ORDER IT INSTEAD OF GOING TO THAT ANNOYING STORE, SHU WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US? I WON'T FORGIVE YOU. I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU...

Shu: I was surprised why the three of you took so much trouble to go to that store. Well, this is not my problem. Now please be quiet. I want to sleep You are very noisy.

Ayato: You bastard...

Laito: Nfu~ I can't wait anymore. I want to do many things with this plushie. Ahhh, even thinking about it makes me hot.

Kanato: I would like to try different clothes on her. My new and beautiful doll is going to be very beautiful.

Ayato: Both of you shut up. This is going to be very interesting. Ahemm... Ahemm... Chichinashi, go make me some takoyaki.

_Laito and Kanato stare at Ayato and Shu smirks.

Kanato: ...

Laito: ....

Shu: Pffffff... you are so stupid.

Ayato: What?

Laito: Did you really expect a plushie to be able to move and make takoyaki for you?

Ayato: Huh? It can't? So why did we try so hard to buy it?

Shu: I am satisfied. It smells like that woman. It is a good pillow. At least when Yui is not here, this plushie will help me.

Kanato: You don't understand how precious dolls are.

Laito: I can also try interesting fantasies on it.

_Yui rushes into the room.

Yui: Ayato-kun, Reiji-san is very angry with you. He said that you in the store___

_The triplets stare at Yui.

Yui: What the..... !!!!!

Ayato: Oi Chichinashi. This ridiculous doll can't make takoyaki for me. Hurry up, make me takoyaki.

Yui: ...

_Meanwhile in Subaru's room.

Subaru: Hah... hah... I did it. I really i did it.

_Subaru enters his room while wearing a black coat, glasses and a mask and quickly goes to his coffin and puts Yui plushie in it and looks at it.

Subaru: I did it...

_Subaru blushes while staring at Yui plushie.

Subaru: Damn it... this is so cute...

_Subaru hugs Plushie and sleeps inside the coffin.

Subaru: Yui, please always stay with me...

_Meanwhile in Reiji's room. Reiji is sitting on a chair and brushing the plushie hair that was pre-ordered a few days ago.

Reiji: Good grief... these things are not for me.

_Reiji covered his face with his hand to hide his embarrassment.

Reiji: No one should know about this. NO ONE.

[yukidragon]

Sunny Day Jack - Reversing Victim and Offender

Okay, okay, hear me out.

Jack being a creepy manipulative yandere.

Yes, yes, I know, totally a revolutionary idea there to have a yandere horror game’s antagonist do something creepy and wrong. It’s just that I don’t often play with Jack losing himself to his more depraved impulses. Long time readers know I tend to be quite a marshmallow who prefers the fluffier side of things, as evidenced by many cuddly posts of my OTP and Sunshine in Hell being overall a softer version of the game, but sometimes it’s fun to watch the world burn and see the characters we love get to be a bit unhinged. As a treat.

Content Warning: this post is about Jack being a naughty manipulative yandere, attempted murder, influenced attempted self-murder, possession, mental manipulation, bloody violence, and a sprinkle of horny.

We know Jack can be a manipulative little devil when it comes to keeping his sunshine. We’ve seen him use his honeyed words to lure MC into his arms in the previous demos. We’ve seen the classic chilling concept art where he talks his rival(?) into doing the dirty work for him when he wants them gone.

Credit as always goes to Sauce for their awesome art, as well as a quick plug to the SnaccPop Patreon. Speaking of the Patreon, there’s a members only post on this very topic, an absolutely chilling audio drama of Jack using his state as a ghost(?) to his advantage.

It seems that Jack has the ability to possess people, and his modus operandi in eliminating his rivals seems to be tormenting them to the point of self-harm. Nick received a taste of that in the older demo, and in the now removed trailer.

But what if the person Jack directed his rival to hurt wasn’t themselves?

Jack is of the opinion that MC’s friends (and potential love interests) are inferior to him, as we’ve seen in his profile. MC doesn’t need them, as Jack says in this unsettling animation by Sauce, as well as many other development art. He proves this by giving MC whatever they want and need, being whatever they want and need him to be. No one else would do that for MC, so that proves that the only one they need is him.

To some degree, MC seems to believe that, at least during the early part of the game. As we can see in the “No” route, MC is dependent on Jack, panicking when they can no longer touch him.

The idea of losing Jack terrifies MC.

What happened to Jack clearly disturbed him, as we saw by his haunted look, but perhaps he found some comfort in the fact that MC was so upset by it. It might at least reassure him that they care, even if it might not be as much as he wants them to.

As I’ve theorized in previous posts, Jack and MC seem to be able to sense each other’s feelings, and it was implied that Jack can read their mind, as well as impress his thoughts into theirs. Perhaps he even felt their fear and desperation at that moment… as well as their need to keep him.

As scary as that moment was, Jack might have been able to get some pleasure out of feeling his sunshine’s need for him, don’t you think?

Jack won’t disappear as long as MC needs him, and he doesn’t want them to feel unhappy or hurt, but wouldn’t being with other people trying to steal them away from him hurt them more in the long run? MC doesn’t see what Jack does, how much of a threat those rivals other “friends” are.

After all… Ian was someone MC once held so dear, and he hurt them so, so badly. He’s trying to come back into their lives, and MC clearly still cares about him even if they’re trying to move on. How can Jack just stand idly by and let MC get hurt again when they don’t see just how bad Ian is for them?

MC might not be able to see how Ian and the other love interests could hurt them, but perhaps Jack could show his beloved sunshine just how cruel they can be.

Of course, Jack doesn’t want MC to get hurt. He would never! But, well, some lessons can be a bit harsher than others. Learning them can sting a bit and even make us upset, but as long as the lesson doesn’t do lasting harm and improves things for them, well, then it’s a good lesson!

Besides, this lesson will hurt Jack more than it hurts MC… in the most literal sense.

This classic audio drama of Jack’s villainous monologue makes me think that he’ll eventually find a way to become much more tangible in the real world. Sure, he could be saying all this while possessing his rival, but it seems more like a face-to-face confrontation. Naturally, for a face-to-face confrontation, Jack would need a face that’s actually visible to the person he’s taunting.

Perhaps the closer Jack gets to MC, the more they love him, the more real he becomes. It could be a reversal of what happened in the “No” route. If that were to happen, Jack could converse with other people directly… and perhaps convince them to leave MC to him.

If they just won’t go away, well… Jack could always push their buttons, upset them to the point that they have violent urges, only these feelings would be directed at him.

While MC is there to see that person unleash their bloody rage on Jack, of course.

As we’ve seen in earlier concept art, Jack didn’t feel pain when being stabbed, and perhaps that might still be true. But MC doesn’t need to know that when Jack says he’s okay and that it doesn’t hurt, it really doesn’t. All they see is Ian, Shaun, Nick, or whoever else suddenly snapping and attacking Jack with a knife for no apparent reason at all, leaving him bloody and wounded in front of them, trying to act brave for their sake like he did in the “no” route.

Jack doesn’t want MC to be unhappy, but perhaps he might get to enjoy a guilty thrill if they got upset for his sake, especially if he could feel them being so protective over him. Their worry for his injuries and outrage that he was attacked… You could say that it’s another way for his sunshine to show him just how much they love him. It might even make him feel a bit more secure, more real.

Jack could even prep his target beforehand via possession, tormenting that person until they’re close to snapping. In the now gone trailer, Shaun sounds unhinged, saying what he’s doing is so wrong… Shaun sounds like someone pushed to do things he never thought himself capable of doing, and likely it was Jack who did the pushing.

All Jack has to do is pull the trigger at the right moment, when MC is there to see their other friend snap. He could use a phrase or gesture that seems so innocent as a means to torment them until they can no longer help themselves when they hear it. He could’ve urged them to carry a knife with them at all times.

Hell, Jack could’ve outright possessed their arm with his powers, unseen by everyone, to make his target stab him in front of MC.

So, as far as MC is aware, Jack being his typical friendly self, when all of a sudden their other friend loses their mind and stabs Jack, likely while shouting something unhinged. It paints a vivid bloody picture of their friend as the antagonist, and Jack as the innocent victim.

Even if the rival snaps out of it right afterward, horrified at what they had done, if Jack covered his tracks well enough, their protests would be empty. It’d just look like empty excuses.

Or perhaps they hate Jack, really hate him, but they have no solid evidence why Jack is a bad person. They could wind up digging the hole even deeper if they doubled down on their act of violence.

It would be really hard to claim that Jack is the dangerous entity when they were the one who suddenly stabbed Jack without apparent provocation after all. It’d just make them look even more unstable and dangerous.

Sure, it’d be an awful thing for MC to see, but at least they’re not the one that got attacked. Jack bravely made sure that he was the only one whose blood was spilled. He might not even really feel pain like they would if he can handle being stabbed, rotted, and bleeding and keep going, as some teasers and concept art have shown.

Personally I think Jack can feel pain, but it’s nothing compared to the 40 years of hell, or the fear of losing his sunshine.

A little pain is worth it to keep his sunshine. Forever.

The idea of losing Jack bloodlessly and painlessly is scary enough for MC. Seeing someone attack him, maybe even outright trying to kill him would be far, far worse. MC was so desperate to keep Jack from disappearing, so it wouldn’t be a stretch to expect that they would rush to his defense to save his life.

This is especially true if their feelings for Jack are so strong that he’s able to physically manifest now.

The moment would be a scarring memory for MC, but sometimes lessons can be harsh when we learn them. MC would at least know how inferior their other friends are compared to Jack, how harmful and dangerous they are. Those people don’t deserve to be in MC’s life, and it’s in their best interests to never see those people again.

Jack would also get to enjoy the perverse pleasure of knowing just how much MC cares about them, how much they love him. They could even nurse him back to health after they chase away that inferior friend for good. He can be pampered, appreciated, and loved. MC will better understand just how important Jack is to them, how much they need him, and how terrible the person who tried to take them away truly is.

Really, it goes to show that MC should listen to Jack more when he says he’s not so sure about them spending time with a particular person, don’t you think?

Of course, how well this ploy goes depends on MC’s compassion. Given what we’ve seen so far of the story, MC does care about Jack, and most people will at least be upset and alarmed that someone was stabbed in front of them. An MC that has strong feelings for Jack and deeply loves him will no doubt be enraged.

This sort of messed up scenario reminded me of how the Bad End AU went so horribly wrong, only Shaun and Ian knew to target the tape there, rather than Jack directly. Alice was hesitant to do more than plead for the three to stop, not wanting any of them to be hurt, and the result was the tape getting destroyed and Jack banished.

The altercation between them was vague, but what if we went down another dark path? What if Jack pushed Ian and Shaun, but they never found out about the tape, and they focused on Jack himself despite his imposing size.

Once I made that comparison between this idea and the Bad End AU, I got inspired to write a quick first draft flash fic about a timeline where Jack gives in to his darker impulses.

The story of Sunshine in Hell is one of broken people helping each other heal and become better versions of themselves.

The Bad End AU is what happens when the wrong choices are made and things only get so much worse.

By the way, for those wondering, a third part of the Bad End AU is in the works. This isn’t it, but more like a different option taken during a critical moment that resulted in blood being spilled instead of bits of plastic and torn VHS tape ribbon.

 From wholesome to unhinged, my posts truly run the gambit of different sides to Sunny Day Jack. I hope you enjoy this little snippet of Jack getting worse instead of better, and taking perverse glee in bringing Alice along with him down a twisted path.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

…

Jack hated to see his sunshine upset. He ached for Alice every time she was in pain. There was nothing he wanted more than to see her smile, to bask in her warm, happy glow.

The last thing Jack wanted was to be the reason Alice was upset, and yet…

Somehow things had grown twisted. Jack crossed lines he knew that he shouldn’t, but somehow he always found ways to justify it. Somehow his fears of losing Alice were always stronger than the little voice in his head telling him that what he was doing wasn’t right.

Sadly, not everything in life could be solved with polite words and a smile.

Things had grown twisted until they spiraled out of control. Ian and Shaun dared to invade their home, their sanctuary. They wanted to take Alice away from him, to “save” her from his “wicked clutches” like Jack was just some cartoon bad guy.

All the things the two said about him were ridiculous, exaggerations! Jack feigned ignorance of their accusations, his confused act flawless. There was no reason for them to be afraid of him. He was just an innocent clown, someone who lived to take care of others, particularly his precious sunshine Alice.

Alice believed Jack had nothing to do with their accusations, but she didn’t chase them away. She listened, worried for them despite her faith in him. It warmed his heart that she believed in him, but the fact that she still listened meant that there was room for doubt to worm its way in.

Ian and Shaun could see that too.

“This… thing is dangerous, Alice,” Shaun said with a tremor in his voice. His eyes couldn’t remain still, bouncing between pleading with Alice and watching for when Jack pounced on them like a venomous cobra. “You need to get away from it right now.”

“You have to believe us!” Ian insisted, his voice cracking desperately. He kept one hand in his pocket, his shaking hand clutching his only form of defense tight. Would it even work on a ghost or whatever Jack was?

Could Jack even bleed?

Jack stood between the invaders and his sunshine. They had tried to take her with him, but he snatched up Alice before they could steal her away and tucked her safely behind his back. He kept one hand on her arm, his hold on her deceptively light, but as unshakable as iron. His expression was innocence itself, showing nothing but a mask of confused concern directed at the two terrified men before him. “Take it easy now. There’s no danger here. Let’s all take a deep breath and try to calm down.”

“Don’t give me that nice guy shit!” Shaun snapped as he glared daggers into Jack. His soothing words were grating in his ears, putting him even more on edge. “You’re more fake than a corporate account with a rainbow logo during pride!” His gaze switched back to Alice. “Alice, please, listen to us. This thing has been torturing us for months now.”

Alice felt a knot in the pit of her stomach. The way Shaun looked at her made her heart go out to him, but… how could it be true. “Torture-”

“Hey now, that’s a strong word to use there,” Jack said. His voice took on a more firm tone to it, but nothing more threatening than the gentle chastising he gave children on his show. “What makes you think I would hurt either of you?”

“Cut the bullshit!” Shaun snarled. “You know damn well you’ve been giving us nightmares for months now!”

“I gave you nightmares?” Jack asked. The confusion on his face was so convincing that Shaun and Ian might have questioned themselves if not for the countless sleepless nights filled with torment. “How could I do that?”

“With some sort of supernatural ghost zombie demon bullshit, I don’t know!” Shaun snapped.

“Alice, you can’t trust him,” Ian said, tightening his grip inside his pocket. Dark circles ringed his shaking eyes as he kept looking from Jack to the hand the creature had on Alice. “Why can’t you see that?”

How was Alice able to stand so close to that monster? Why was she standing behind it as if it would protect her? How could she not see that it was holding her hostage? How could she stand that thing’s cold, lifeless touch? Seeing its hand on her made Ian relieve those countless nights spent lost in a place that felt too real to be a dream, but too horrible to be reality.

The Jack before them now wasn’t exactly the same as the rotted, bloody corpse that haunted them night after night. That thing with mocking smiles that were too wide and wild, and strange eyes that had nothing behind them. This wasn’t the kind and caring boyfriend Alice talked about. This thing was a monster that only knew how to take and take and take. Its touch stole something from Ian every time it laid its hands on him, and left behind a coldness that went far beyond cold. It stole the very warmth from him until it was as if it never existed. It stripped Ian of his senses one at a time until there was nothing but its absence hissing at him like static.

And that voice. That voice mocked him even when the world went so silent that Ian couldn’t even hear his own screams. That thing was trying to sound compassionate now, but that was a lie. It twisted the truth until it was unrecognizable, but so believable. It sounded so calm and kind at the start of every nightmare, even as it told Ian so many, many terrible things, tore open old wounds and exposed all his flaws.

Ian was a sinner damned for hell. He didn’t deserve to be anywhere near someone as kind and gentle as Alice. That thing made it all too clear to him.

The thing countered his protests, even laughed, because they were so feeble. Ian was so selfish, so worthless.

That voice would then mock him, so superior, so much better than Ian in every way. He would never forget the sound of that voice, or that smile.

The smile Jack offered him now was supposed to be an encouraging one, but Ian knew that it was fake. He knew what the hand held before him in a placating gesture was a ruse to get just a little closer.

If Jack touched either of them it was all over. Now that they exposed the truth about it to Alice…

Who knew what it would take from Ian if it got its hands on him again?

“Let’s all calm down now,” Jack said soothingly. “Come on, take a deep breath with me.” He gestured to his chest as he inhaled, which only served to remind Ian and Shaun of just how much bigger he was than all of them.

Ian jerked at Jack’s sudden movement, his breath hitching as that gloved hand drifted close to him.

“There now,” Jack said encouragingly. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The words struck harder than any blow.

There now. That wasn’t so hard, was it?

It was such an innocent phrase, something that would have been encouraging if Shaun and Ian hadn’t heard it in countless nightmares, spoken in mocking tones or breathless whispers, with fake reassurance or a true perverse glee. The monster praised them when they ran from the illusion of Alice, when they admitted that they were flawed and worthless, when they surrendered to his taunts…

When they accepted the knife it pressed into their hands to carve a smile in their throats to match its own.

Shaun flinched back while Ian tensed, his eyes wide and wild as Jack slowly reached out for him with an open palm and a smile. It was such a deceptively innocent gesture…

Instinct took over. A flash of silver and a cry broke the air as Ian used the knife he had hidden away in his pocket all this time to take back what Jack had stolen away from him.

Time slowed down as blood sprayed from the gouge carved from Jack’s hand to his forearm. He cried out in pain as he reeled back, then collapsed to the floor.

Shaun froze at the attack, staring at the bloody knife and wound it left behind in shock. It was as if he was watching a scene from one of his movies unfold before him, not real in the slightest, even though some of the blood splattered onto his face and clothes.

Ian held the knife in both hands tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. The blade shook in his too tight grip, then the rest of him soon followed as it sunk in what he had just done.

This was just another dream… right? Ian didn’t mean to hurt anyone, he just couldn’t let Jack touch him, not again. Not in reality. Not when he couldn’t wake up. He couldn’t let Jack take everything from him.

Ian couldn’t let Jack hurt him again.

Everything had happened so fast. Alice didn’t know what to make of it when Ian and Shaun practically forced their way into her apartment, throwing out wild accusations. They were jittery and on edge, hurling out vitriol towards Jack and pleas to her before she could sort out the accusations they made. They grabbed at her without warning, yanking hard while their fingers dug into her arms hard enough to bruise. It was only thanks to Jack acting quickly to separate them that she hadn’t been dragged outside.

They scared her. Alice worried for them, but their actions weren’t normal. The look in their eyes was terrifying. Ian and Shaun had been acting cagey for weeks now, avoiding her and not responding to her texts. She never saw this coming.

Jack reassured her with his gentle touch and soothing words. Alice could see that he was alarmed by their behavior as well, but he did his best to keep calm, to protect her when her friends were acting so strangely.

There was no way Jack was this monster they described. He was the kindest, gentlest soul Alice had ever known. He chased away her nightmares, comforted her when she needed it, and was there for her when she was left all alone.

Jack loved her more than anyone else in the world.

Alice barely had time to wonder about their claims when Ian struck without warning. When Jack screamed, her blood turned to ice. Red filled her vision.

There was so much blood.

“Jack!”

Alice moved before she could really register what was happening, her scream sounding far away as her heartbeat pounded hard in her ears. She threw herself between Jack and his attacker, falling to her knees as used her body as a shield. She clung to him, her best friend, her beloved, heedless of the blood soaking into her clothes, then turned her gaze to the monster that had dared to hurt the one she loved.

The ice in that gaze froze Ian, and the knife fell from his limp fingers. Suddenly he was all too aware of what he had done, the blood on his hands. He stared at them, at the sin he had committed, shaking and red, until he collapsed into a pool of tears.

“How could you?” Alice hissed, forcing the words out through her constricted throat. “How could you!?”

The world started to move again. Ian tried to say something, perhaps some form of protest or apology, but the words were half-formed and drowned in his tears. Shaun stared between the bloodstained knife and Jack, who lay curled against Alice, quietly whimpering while bleeding all over the carpet.

Shaun couldn’t reconcile the scene before him of the wounded man, weak and in pain, against the monster from his dreams that smiled through any attack he made. No matter how many times he stabbed Jack in the dream, the undead creature would just mock him, unfazed even as its blood was spilled.

Was this really the same monster that haunted them for months?

It was this dissonance that made Ian truly aware of the sin he had committed. He couldn’t handle it. He fled.

“Get out!” Alice snapped, bringing Shaun’s attention back from her and away from the fleeing Ian. “Get the fuck out of here!”

Shaun staggered a step back. “A-Alice, I-”

“Get the fuck out!” Alice shrieked. “I never want to see either of you ever again! If you ever come near me or Jack again, I’ll fucking shoot you!”

Shaun took a few more steps, his eyes trailing down to the blood that had been spilled. It still didn’t look real to him, but Alice’s screams were real. The hatred she had in her eyes directed entirely at him was real. It was far more real than any of his nightmares.

It was too much for Shaun, and he too left behind the scene of this macabre show he had taken part in.

Ahhh…

Jack had to use every ounce of his willpower to suppress his smile and keep his true feelings hidden from his sunshine. The pleasure he felt in that moment was exquisite, a shiver of euphoria that was so sinfully delicious it was practically erotic. Fear, shock, and anger burst through him like fireworks, but undercutting all of those feelings was the love Alice had for him. Those feelings of her burned fierce and bright, chasing away all the cold in the world. Even her hatred, directed at someone else, was beautiful, because it was for his sake.

How could Jack not feel pleasure when Alice’s love for him overflowed until it flooded his heart in a torrent of passion?

All that fear, worry, and rage was in defense of him. Only him. Only Jack had her love now. Whatever care Alice felt for Shaun and Ian was dead, its throat slit with a single slice of a knife.

It made all the nights spent away from his sunshine while she slept worth it. All those months of training those two obstacles had paid off beautifully. Jack finally exposed the true nature of those inferior other “friends” of hers. He knew that with just a little encouragement, they would finally show his precious sunshine just how worthless and filthy they truly were.

With them gone, her anger cooled, but didn’t disappear completely. It still burned inside of Alice, fierce and ready to protect him again at a moment’s notice. Her thoughts were all for him now, only him. She fussed over his wound, letting out concerned whimpers as she cradled him close while using her own clothes to staunch the blood flow.

Jack hated to see his sunshine so upset. He wanted to reassure her that he was fine, but he had to be careful about it. The episode he had written for them wasn’t quite finished yet.

“It… it’s okay… sunshine,” Jack said between heavy pants. He wore a weak smile that held none of his true happiness in it. “I-it doesn’t hurt.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it, but the pain didn’t matter to Jack. No pain compared to the thought of losing Alice. This little scratch was nothing compared to what he gained in return.

The love Jack felt from her, the pleasure that love gave him was so much better. It was a drug that left him feeling weak and dizzy, almost overwhelmed by the euphoria to the point he became partially erect. Alice’s love for him was so fierce that it was practically all that he could feel. Compared to that, the gouge in his arm was little more than a paper cut.

Those warm hands of hers touched him so delicately. Alice fussed over him, cried over him, her heart breaking for him. It was all for him, only for him. He was her world, and he reveled in it. She was the sun that would shine her light for no one else but him now.

Jack never wanted anything to make his sunshine unhappy, but how could he not enjoy himself? How could he not find pleasure even in the darker moments of anger and sadness that overtook her when it was for his sake? The way she screamed his name, the way she held him so close, the fierce way she defended him, worried for him… how could he not adore every second of it?

There was no stronger proof of the love Alice felt for Jack than this.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being An Assassin Who Joins The team

A/N: I'M OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA :D I have so many ideas attached to it, so many posts brewing, so I really hope you like it!!! I kinda think of it similar to Red Room from MCU and also the Aunts from The Handmaid's Tale, if that makes any sense lol. Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher likes you. He sees the emotion you evoke from the rest of the team and he thinks you're a perfect fit. You're not sure what to think of him. If he was one of your siblings, he wouldn't have lasted long. Selfish, arrogant, self-righteous. That's the kind of thing that got you punished, that got you killed. Beneath it though, to a degree, you can tell he really cares for everyone. It might be twisted and warped and at this point unrecognizable, but it was there. He enjoys hearing about your kills, especially when it was Supes. You weren't just good at what you did, you were the best. You were creative, too. Imaginative. He brags to you about killing Translucent, how they did it. You're not terribly impressed, but for his benefit you put on a show. You're a little weird, but he likes that. You're except in some areas (like going undercover) and mediocre in others (like figuring out how to befriend Hughie). He doesn't judge what you've done. It's just how you were raised. He tries to do a background check on you, but there's nothing. The name your mentors gave you wasn't the one your parents, if there even were parents, gave you. You were a blank slate. It was both riveting and terribly dangerous.

Hughie has the most questions. He can see just from your appearance, all the scars on your face and neck, all the ones he can't see, that you've been to hell and back. You hold yourself rigid, tight. Even when you seem relaxed you aren't. You're constantly looking for the nearest exit or weapon, scanning every room you walk into. It spooks him a little. He lets his imagination get the better of him, something he knows he shouldn't do, but just can't help it. You like Hughie instantly. And not just because he's too awkward and frail to get in a proper punch, too soft to ever truly hurt you. He seems sweet, naive, like he needs protecting. He reminds you of the kids in the program who didn't make it. You protected them, too. Or, at least tried to. You're as friendly as you let yourself, taking an interest in whatever he's doing, becoming his shadow. Everyone takes notice, but he doesn't seem to mind. He likes your company. The rest of the team hopes you'll open up to him, tell him what you won't tell everyone else, but he refuses to pry. If you talk, that's great. If not, oh well. If you want to hang out by his side, that works too.

Annie has nothing against you, but you definitely keep your distance, especially at first. You've killed more than enough Supes to prove your competency, more than you can name. You're not sure what they tell each other, but you imagine it similar to the system you grew up with: word spread quickly, you all felt it when one of your own were killed. There was an alliance that went unsaid. If you could avenge your fallen siblings, you would. If she found out who you killed, how many, would she come after you? Eventually you learn they're not all connected like that, that Annie's on your side. Still, you kind of see her as the embodiment of everything you're not. She's sweet, caring, and honest. You've been lying all your life, you can't tell what's real and what isn't. Hughie likes her, loves her, so that definitely helps in developing your relationship. Annie knows about your past, what little you share of it, but she doesn't judge. Maybe, at a time, she would have, but after being part of The Boys so long, that kind of thing kind of loses its shock power. You did what you had to, what you were trained to. Weren't you all guilty of a version of that?

M.M., similar to his initial feelings about Kimiko, isn't too fond of you. He doesn't mean to judge as harshly as he does, but just by the looks of you, you mean trouble. Hughie tries to talk to him, but he just can't get past your quirks. You're so naive about certain things (what music you like to listen to, shows you've never seen, how to form normal friendships, what jokes are funny) and so knowledgeable about other things (the fastest way to bleed out a man, how to make a murder look like a suicide, the amount of languages you were taught to better go after your targets). It just doesn't sit right with him. Knowing this, sensing this, you keep your distance, knowing not to further upset him similar to how your mentors were. Be invisible to him, them. It isn't until you give him sound advice for protecting Monique and Janine, something he never would have thought of, does he reconsider his feelings. He's still not a big fan, but he can see why you belong on the team, why your skills are beneficial, even if some of the stuff you say so lightly gives him the heebie jeebies, like the time you reminisced about killing someone with just a wooden spoon.

Frenchie doesn't really see you as an assassin. They've all killed people, it didn't seem like such a big deal. He doesn't love the idea of you being around Kimiko. She's made a life for herself beyond what she's gone through. It feels like you're still learning how to be without it. Without your mentors, your siblings. He knows there's no one better to give you a chance than him, so he's very open, inviting. You talk to him exclusively in French. You tell him small parts of your past, and he's grateful for that. In return, he tells you about his own childhood. When he shares the scars from his father, you tell him about the ones on your face and neck, how you deserved them for disobedience. He doesn't tell anyone else, knowing it was only meant for him to hear. You even speak affectionately about your mentors, the ones who were kind and only hurt you when you needed it. He wasn't shocked, at least not outwardly, not wanting you to feel strange or odd. Because you don't speak French with an accent, it's hard for him to decipher where you're from. All over, you say, and though you know it's a non-answer, it's the truth. You've been all over the world. You just happened to end up in New York.

Kimiko becomes your friend immediately. Though you gravitate towards Hughie because he's sweet, you like Kimiko because you can tell you're very similar. She doesn't have to say anything, you just know. You recognize the signs. The rest of the team doesn't think it's a great idea, you are alone with her, namely Frenchie. When you aren't cold and standoffish, you're far too casual about what you've done, pointing to old movies with famous Supes back in the day or old politicians, reminiscing how you killed them, made it look like a suicide. Or you talk about growing up, how you were punished for crying even when your friends were killed, pointing out the scars they left. She's not upset by it, she's glad you're talking about it. It makes her upbringing feel normal. You learn sign language quickly, another language you can add to your list, telling her more than anyone else. In return you listen to her, whatever she wants to share, grateful for someone who doesn't look at you like a monster or a freak. You like listening to her go on about Frenchie, her feelings for him. It's a piece of childhood you never got to take part in. It's nice.

[caineinthecorner]

Language (The Demon Brothers)

★ Based on my language general hcs. Part 2 is here.

Hi. Today we have the demon brothers language hcs, brought to you by a single dumbass bilingual. :D

I include mentions of bilingual/multilingual MC, but I use the term MC and you interchangeably in the bullet points. It's the same thing who cares (you can also add whatever languages you think fit I am just going off vibes tbh)

★ Lucifer.

Since he was the strongest and highest ranked out of the brothers, his innate abilities were muddled the least.

This is to say that he remembers a lot from his innate knowledge as an angel, and can actually fare incredibly well on his own if you leave him in the human realm.

(the language he preferred back in his angel days was Archaic Latin, which is also Simeon's preferred language)

When Diavolo brought up the idea of the human exchange program he was like "(: ok" and binged human language for like two months straight like a total psychopath

He's like one of those fancy 10+ languages fluent polyglots (how)

Despite his fluency, it is rare to ever see him speak them. He has better things to do and prefers demon tongue.

Or if he does, the Loquar Ad Vos that was applied to you once you arrived in Devildom doesn't allow you to hear it.

You try to swear in your native language around him and oh boy it backfires

That is how you learn he's fluent in everything under the sun (exaggeration)

Frustrated, you grumble that you will learn demon tongue just to one up him

He takes it like a challenge. Enjoy reading a million books on the demonic language and having double the homework for your little joke.

(he gives you hard material to learn on purpose to see you fail. Enjoy hell buckoo. Double hell? Hell²)

You kept misspelling good morning in demon tongue as a demonic death threat and that somehow turned into an inside joke between the two of you.

He has to keep himself from chuckling whenever MC screws up words

Your accent is lovely though. Keep it up

★ Mammon.

Spanish and English.

Ok I actually can't justify myself further than "Mams would absolutely fucking go to Vegas" and the fact that USA has a large Latino population but hear me out

You cannot tell me that he would not watch telenovelas. Like. C'mon.

he has the vibes of a Spanish speaker is what I am saying

he was SO frustrated about having to learn human languages you have no idea

In fact he probably still struggles a bit and that makes him really mad

Why is it so complicated all of the sudden?! It wasn't complicated Before!

He unconsciously associates human languages with the trauma of the fall, and the stress and hurt and turbulent emotions it conveys

So learning new languages besides the two he knows is a touchy subject for him

(but like, he will learn MC's native language despite this. Whining to hell about it, but he will. Everything for MC)

You are actually very lucky that you have Loquar Ad Vos with you, bcs he actually switches from demon tongue to either English or Spanish mid sentence sometimes.

Not that you notice with your crusty translator (Loquar also works for human languages it supports), of course.

"Ayo can you [Spanish phrase], oh and give me a [English word], for a [spanglish nonsense]" <- Mammon's dumbass not functioning in trilingual

Also he has an accent but he's trying

The others are used to it so they don't question it anymore, but they deadass could not understand Mammon at some point because trilingual was not computing

It was frustrating to say the least

You two play charades with each other when the other forgets a word in your respective languages

"MC WHAT'S THE NAME OF THE ANIMAL FUCK THAT CHANGES HOME" "... Hermit crab?" "THATS THE BITCH"

★ Leviathan.

Japanese (very decent) and English (bad) are musts.

You cannot tell me for a second this fuck watches anime subbed OR dubbed. He's too weeb for that. He will watch the original dub version for the full emotional impact

He wanted to know what happens in the weeb world of the west (and internet discourse), so he learned English through shitty 2000s anime forums and Duolingo

Probably plays Duolingo competitively and/or cries if he loses his streak

His hearing and speaking English is okay, his writing is literally so so shit

Tried to learn a romantic language to be corny but failed miserably.

(He steered clear of languages his brothers know so he isn't self conscious)

It was probably Portuguese or something since Mammon kept talking about being good at figuring it out as a Spanish speaker (due to it being a romantic language)

The diacritical marks killed him on the spot

Meu português não é bom... (crying)

Victim of the you're* corrections

Runs his several-paragraphs-long rants about weeb stuff through Satan so the grammar is legit

Actually thinking about it would be absolutely fucking hilarious if he knew russian just for funsies. Yeah add Russian to the list

He sends you crusty Russian memes at unholy hours in the morning. Calls that bonding

Would absolutely swear in loud ass Russian while playing Valorant or smt

"ПИЗДЕЦ" "LEVI IT'S 2AM SHUT THE FUCK UP"

Ah + he knows Morse code (obviously). He was really excited when he discovered it and proceeded to obsess over it for like three weeks straight.

Although by the time he learned about it humans had already moved on from its wide-spead use at sea (post-1999), the Devildom Navy adapted Morse code for their own use as per Levi's command.

He teaches MC how to use Morse code (bashfully) and they send lil' messages to each other for fun

★ Satan.

He inherited a good chunk of Lucifer’s angel-knows-all-languages innate talents.

He doesn't have the angel knowledge of every language, of course, but he definitely has a really high count since birth; Unlike his brothers who had to relearn their languages of interest.

However, he can tell™ that the topic of languages is kinda taboo-y, as it signifies the traumatic fall he himself was not there to witness, and kept quiet about it.

The others (mostly) think he just learned languages in his free time.

He is the designated google translate person. When the other brothers need translations, they ask him.

He gets very frustrated when he has to translate something on the spot

Absolutely knows Chinese and Latin just to read fancy old human books and be a menace about it

He has a copy of the Art Of War in Chinese I will fight you on that

Actually he probably owns every important human book in its native language

Culprit of the you're* corrections

If he has to read another thesis-length essay abt weeb shit by leviathan he will actually lose his shit

You know the Voynich manuscript? He's probably trying to decode it for funsies.

If you and him (unfortunately) share a language, he will absolutely correct the living shit out of you when you speak it

Look me in the eyes and tell me he wouldn't "erm ACtuAllY" MC. You can't.

His ass does not understand slang. At all. You tell him See You Later Alligator and he'll be like "tf you smoking ಠಿ⁠_⁠ಠ?"

★ Asmodeus.

French. And Korean. Maybe very mid English.

Ok so french is the language of lOVe and whatever + Korea is known for their heavy beauty-focused culture

I can see Asmo definitely picking up Korean just for makeup and self care brands purposes.

Like it is easier to browse for products he wants if he can actually browse the original places/websites himself

It's just more convenient and he's actually very good at language learning

+ Korean it is a "cutesy" language so it fits his vibe.

Like he absolutely would go "안녕 teehee (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)" to look disarming is what I am saying

He flirts to hell with Solomon in French. It is a language they both know and isn't supported by Loquar for translation so nobody can snoop their conversations

If you have the misfortune of knowing French I am so sorry for you bcs they are NASTY

Solomon is teaching him English. Asmo fakes being bad at it on purpose

★ Beelzebub.

He knows a decent amount of English.

What does he use it for? Order food. Obviously.

In fact everyone kinda assumes he just knows a few food orders and that's it but no he's actually very decent at English (borderline fluent)

He learned through clunky conversation with small restaurant owners

Beel actually makes a great effort to enunciate every word clearly, so he doesn't like speaking long sentences

"Would you like Salsa with that, sweetheart?" "... Yes," <- Beel has no fucking clue wtf salsa is but it tastes good so who is he to defy food gods (a nice Mexican grandma with a killer Pozole) whom have blessed him

I also think he would probably know some kind of sign language

Fingerspelling maybe, solely because it allows him to talk while having his mouth full or bcs his games are loud and he can't hear words very well

That and, like, the Devildom equivalent of sign language. DSL or something.

Look at him. Absolute sweetheart. He would absolutely want to include deaf or hard of hearing ppl.

★ Belphegor.

Ok so

I am going to be very fr with you

I believe Belphie would be the only monolingual (demon tongue "native") of the brothers

at most he would remember a few phrases of a few languages from back when he was an angel, but not any specifics

Like this dude has ZERO interest in human culture I cannot think he would sit down to (re)learn anything

he would fall asleep trying to learn human verbs actually

He only knows how to tell you to fuck off on 4 languages (/hj)

None which you speak. So that's kinda awkward

He doesn't know how to cast Loquar (nor has any interest in learning how)

Beel casts it for him if he needs it

He can and will deadass just remove the translator spell from you if you try to annoy/interact with him (except if Beel is who casts it on you).

(so Beel now also casts Loquar for you)

Begone >:(

[ghostlywhiskey]

John Price - Hell on Earth - Part 1

Pairing: Lawyer!John Price x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2,427 Warnings: None Summary: Your a paralegal at a law firm and John Price is a top attorney - but makes everyone's life a living hell. And it only gets worse when he decides to make you his primary paralegal. Notes: Going based of this prompt/blurb I wrote. There will 100% be more parts - you think I'm gonna have lawyer!price and not have smut at some point? Absolutely not. Also let the record show, I did not proofread teehee<3 ▸read part two here ▸find my masterlist here

The phone sat snug between your ear and shoulder as the contents of your bag were shifted around with one hand, the other holding a coffee. Where is the damn keycard? Your thoughts block out whatever Morgan was saying on the other end of the phone. As you push through the revolving door, the keycard finds a spot between your fingers as you say good morning to the guard and head for the elevator. 

“Morgan.” The name coming out of you is rather monotone as you try to grab your friend's attention from her ongoing rant. “Morgan, take a breath would you?” Eyes looking at the lights above the elevators to make note of which one you would be getting into.

“I can’t take a breath! Who goes on five dates with someone and just poof! Hey, I don’t want a relationship?” her voice belted through the phone loud enough that you would think your phone had the speaker option selected. The sudden exclamation in her voice causes you to pull the phone from your ear, eyes glancing to see multiple emails come in from Price about various different cases that had been transferred to you in the past three weeks.

“Son of a bitch.” you mutter as you stand in the elevator, scrolling through twenty new emails, all delivered at 8AM. He fucking prepared them to be auto-sent. Is he fucking kidding? 

“Hey, are you there?” Morgan’s voice echoes through the phone, quickly putting it to your ear.

“Sorry, work is already chaotic. Can I call you later? Or maybe drinks after work?” voice apologetic, but your anxiety is already focusing on what needs to get done for the day. 

As you push through the doors of the firm, ‘good mornings’ are thrown around from your coworkers as you make your way to your cubicle. The door to his office is wide open, the lack of yelling and aggressive taps on the keyboard nowhere to be heard - He isn’t in yet, thank fuck. 

Your bag drops onto the desk along with your coffee next to it, body dropping into the chair as you stare at the black screen. Eight hours to go. Hand grasping the mouse, you give it a shake as the dual monitors come to life and type your login quickly.  The inbox rapidly catches up to what your phone already knows - 127 messages. Twenty of them are Price’s alone from this morning. 

Monday, August 7, 2023 - 8:00 AM

Subject: K. Laswell - Deposition of Our Client

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Good Morning,

What is the status of getting the deposition set up? Why is no one agreeing? Call them and get answers. Tired of the emails flooding my inbox. 

Very truly yours,

John Price, Esq.

Monday, August 7, 2023 - 8:00 AM

Subject: S. Riley - Motion to Compel Discovery

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Good Morning,

Prepare the exhibits for A to H. They are in the file under the exhibits folder for the motion. Want it filed today - discovery has been outstanding for over a year. No more good faith letters. 

I want to see the final version before it is filed.

Very truly yours,

John Price, Esq.

Monday, August 7, 2023 - 8:00 AM

Subject: J. McTavish - Search Case Law

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Good Morning,

I don’t have time to look into this today - find me relevant cases that can be applied to the file. Preferably by tomorrow morning, get as specific as you can. Opposition is due 3 weeks from now and I’d rather not be stressing about it when it is due the week before the motion. Any questions, ask Mary. Thanks. 

Very truly yours,

John Price, Esq.

Monday, August 7, 2023 - 8:00 AM

Subject: K. Garrick - CASE DISMISSED

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Good Morning Patrick,

No need to apologize, I hope the family is well. Glad we were able to resolve this. 

Looping my paralegal in. She will provide you the document signed on behalf of me and have it to you by the end of the day. 

Very truly yours,

John Price, Esq.

“I hope the family is well.” the mumble from your lips is a mocking one, as if that prick ever wishes anyone well. God forbid he ever wrote thank you instead while signing off on an email. The few emails are just the start of the tasks for the day. Happy Monday.

One more email catches your eye before you go to start from the bottom of where you left off the other day answering people. One email not sent exactly at 8 AM.

Monday, August 7, 2023 - 8:02 AM

Subject: Meeting about cases

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Morning,

When I’m in the office later we need to discuss more cases you are getting reassigned to. Let me know when you are free today. I’ll be in around 12 after court.

John

Get Outlook for IOS

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. 

And by the time the clock hits 12, you’ve barely made it through half of the emails. Completely zoning out as you chew on a pen cap, you scroll through the case law your searching for one of Price’s tasks - saving various memorandums into the file and your own notes on a word document. The sound of your desktop messenger goes off, the paralegal chat receiving a message from the firm secretary: Price is in.

Another paralegal, Ava, quickly sent a reply: Prayers up. Headphones in before the yelling in his office starts. 

Fingers quickly typing your own response, you send yours: Fingers crossed today’s the day I can get fired and just collect unemployment instead.

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly, closing the chat before Price would make his way to his office by your desk. Better off he didn’t see the alerts of his presence or everyones personal feelings about him. The sound of his shoes clicking against the floor caused your head to peek over your desktop setup, his phone already held up to his ear as he angrily spoke on the phone.

“Well, the judge doesn’t know his fucking ass from his elbow.” his eyes glanced over at you as he walked by, his hand holding up five fingers as he mouthed ‘five minutes’ to you. 

So, you didn’t do anything for the next five minutes besides watch the clock on your computer. By the time four minutes hit, you stood up from the desk and stood outside his closed door. And right as five minutes hit, the door swung open and his breath caught in his throat as he was prepared to shout your name but saw you standing right there.

“Glad to see you can count.” he opted to say instead, turning to walk back towards his desk. “Door shut.” You nodded at his demand, closing the door and walking to stand at the front of his desk.

“Is the Laswell deposition set up?” he asked.

“Calendered for January 18th.”

“Exhibits on Riley…finished?” Another question as he scrolled through his emails.

“Prepared for your review.” The response leaving your lips quickly. “Document signed on Garrick. Still working on the case law for McTavish. And anything else you emailed me about.” You decided to finish off responses to any more questions he might have. He glanced up from his laptop, nodding.

“So, that leaves us with case reassignments.” Price stated and you simply nodded to acknowledge his comment. “Any file that Kelsey had with me is getting reassigned to you.” You knew Kelsey, she was a capable paralegal, she was Price’s go-to paralegal. Well, heavy emphasis on the ‘was’. She had quit the other week. Rumors spread, but the consensus seemed to be that Price might have driven her to a mental break.

Your brain did the math quickly - that would leave you hitting around over 250 files altogether. And before you could voice your concern, Price spoke again. “You’ll become my primary paralegal. Any case you have with another attorney is going to get reassigned to someone else.” Slight relief washed over you. At least that knocked your case load down a bit, but that still left you under Price’s reign of terror. Reporting to him about everything. 

How soon am I gonna have a mental break? Your brain echoed, but again, you just nodded in response to what he just said. “Have you lost your voice?” He raised a brow. Quickly you shook your head ‘no’.

“No, sir. Understood. I’ll draft memos on any file I have getting transferred to someone else so they know the status.” You spoke, looking down at him as he sat at his desk.

“Good, get back to work.” was all he said, nodding towards his door. And with that, you hurriedly exited his office before he could mention anything else. 

Once you sat down at your desk, you opened the paralegal chat. 

Guess who is the new Kelsey :)) 

The hours this day seemed to drag. And for what felt like the hundredth time that day, your eyes glanced at the clock.

7:03 PM.

You let out a frustrated sigh, keeping it quiet. Anything you wanted to actually get done today for the most part didn’t, as you were handling forest fire after forest fire that Price would email about. But at this rate, you felt defeated. Not even a full 24 hours as his designated paralegal and you were one step away from a mental break of your own. 

Price was long gone from the office. Every other paralegal was also gone at this rate, vanishing at 5 PM on the dot. The only other presence was the office cleaning lady who came in everyday. She came over to your desk, smiling at you as a greeting before she grabbed your trash can to dump the contents into her larger bin she pushed around. “Isn’t it late, love?” her voice soft and you smiled sadly at her.

“I guess it is.” you said, glancing back at your screen. The lady glanced at your computer screen and then her eyes went to Price’s door, reading his name on the door. And it was like something clicked.

“Oh, does Mr. Price, have you staying late?” she asked, voice laced with pity it sounded like. How did she know? And it was like she read your mind. “That blonde girl….hm, Kelsey!” she exclaimed as she remembered the name. “She was always staying later for that man.” The older lady spoke and you huffed.

“Yeah, Mr. Price.” you mumbled, reaching over to shut your laptop off. There was no way you were doing anything else tonight - besides burying yourself under your bed covers.

“Well, have a good night.” The lady said, walking away as she continued to empty trash cans throughout the office.

And by the time you were home, it felt like a chore to put yourself in the shower. But the water hitting your back acts as a cleanser of any stress of the day. Why was he such a prick? The inflated ego was understandable stemming from the fact he was a successful attorney. But, what was the point of treating everyone around you like shit? If he had a wife, you felt terrible for her. Though you never did notice a wedding ring, honestly, it wouldn’t surprise you if he took it off when he wasn’t around her. And if he wasn’t married, then you figured he was probably single and alone, because who the fuck would deal with that?

Two Months Later

If hell was on earth, it was right here in this very office. At your desk. Working directly for John Price.

The past two months felt like you were running a treadmill that wouldn’t stop and the only way to get off would be to stop running and just let the damn thing fling you into the wall. At least there was paid overtime, or you genuinely would have been on the next train to the unemployment line. But once again, the clock read 6:30 PM for the third time this week. The music from Price’s office blasting as his door had been shut the past four hours. First the sounds of him screaming on the phone, the next two hours followed by a conference call where you were almost positive you heard another attorney start crying and the past hour had been strictly music. You weren’t sure what to expect from his music taste, but the array of Mötley Crüe, Rolling Stones, Slipknot and a bunch of others you couldn’t even begin to name was driving you to the point of losing your mind.

Your body only jumped slightly in your seat when the door to his office abruptly opened, the music pouring into the rest of the empty office. But your eyes focused on Price as you made note of his appearance. In your months working here, nothing about him was ever disheveled. Every button done, tie aligning perfectly with the buttons on his shirt, his hair gel holding every hair on his head in place. Except right now, he looked like he actually just ran on a treadmill as opposed to you who had just felt like you had been on one. The first two buttons of his shirt undone and his tie sprawled on the desk in his office along with his suit jacket that hung off the back of his own chair. His face was slightly red and the gel in his hair looked like it lost his hold and as if his fingers had run through it.

The way his eyes locked on you made your body tense. It made you feel like you were in the wrong for still being in the office. “You’re still here?” he questioned, slightly caught off guard by your presence.

You hesitated for a minute, fingers on the keyboard coming to a stop as you looked at him. Well obviously I’m still fucking here. And the tiredness of the day hitting you, that you couldn’t help but reply with an attitude. “Well, unless I’m a ghost then yes, I’m still here.” The emphasis on the ‘still’ was strong. But your tone didn’t even seem to strike him like you thought it would, he just cleared his throat and nodded.

“I’m stepping out to grab something for dinner quickly. See you tomorrow if you’re gone by the time I’m back.” was all he left you with as he left the office.  His demeanor and lack of response to your attitude caught you off guard as you stared blankly at your screen as he left the office. What the fuck is wrong with him?