#so sorry if i botched anything

[serasfanfiction]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

CW: For Valentino being Valentino. He doesn't do anything, but he does say some things.

oOo

The closer they came to V Tower, the more loud everything became.

Paper posters gave way to bulletin boards. Every street was lit with flashing signs and arrows, pointing the way to different businesses down the main strip. Advertisements were nearly plastered on every single available surface, competing with each other in a cacophony of bright colors and promises to make all of one's troubles go away, if only one bought the product.

Sinners wandered the streets, some glued to their phones as they typed out a text message, watched a video, or shouted at someone on the other end of a phone call. Some sinners loitered around various shops selling televisions, each screen showing an advertisement for the latest gadget VoxTek was selling.

The Vees made it ridiculously easy to learn their faces, as none of the trio were shy about plastering their likeness all over their wares. Vox was clearly unafraid to throw his reputation behind anything he supported, one advertisement proclaiming, "I'd buy it." Valentino left nothing to the imagination - figurative or literally - on what he was selling, with various larger than life posters that featured the moth scantily clad and in suggestive poses. Velvette was significantly more reserved, in comparison, with only a billboard advertising her perfume, named, Love Potion.

Quite frankly speaking, it was all a bit overstimulating.

Walking nonchalantly at his side, Alastor barely gave any of bombastic sights around him a second glance. He had made little commentary since they had set out from the hotel earlier in the day, falling silent as they had entered the Vees territory. Where all of this technology was practically invented yesterday, as far as Lucifer was concerned, Alastor had lived on Earth when most of the technology around them was still in its infancy stages. Advertising, likewise, was hardly new. Humans had been shouting at each other to buy this or to buy that since they'd first come up with the idea of selling a product. They may not have had flashing lights in the 1920s or 30s, but there had been posters, billboards, and radio ads.

Modern technology just made everything more... flashy.

Lucifer watched a group of sinners standing before an electronic shop, TVs stacked up in the window. Each TV was showing the same thing: an advertisement for the latest cell phone. He was a little surprised he still cared enough to be sickened as Vox straight up hypnotized the viewers into buying the phone. He shook his head in disgust a they passed group turned mob making a mad dash into the store. "Quite the salesman, Vox is," Lucifer commented, not trying to hide his judgmental tone.

Alastor snorted. He glanced at the group scampering out with their new cell phones as he drawled, "Vox has always had a... persuasive sales pitch."

It was Lucifer's turn to snort as they passed another poster of Vox, this time just the overlord and his VoxTech logo. His ever present slogan, Trust Us, curved around the logo. "You mean he hypnotizes people into doing what he wants." It was good to know in advance. No one had ever tried to hypnotize the Devil himself before and he wasn't keen to find out if it was possible.

"Hm," Alastor hummed in agreement. "Just so."

V Tower was easy to spot, even with all the noise going on in the background. The number of surveillance cameras also began to increase the closer they got to the trio's headquarters. Lucifer eyed one as it followed their trek down the street. "So much for keeping our arrival a surprise."

The redhead smirked, obviously pleased about something. Sing song, he assured, "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

The blonde sighed. He was walking right into it, he knew he was. He was going to do it anyway, because damn his curiosity. "Oh?"

Alastor twirled his staff around his fingers like a baton. "All the cameras we've passed so far have been laughably easy to take out." With a practiced hand, he caught the staff, it's tip pointing at the offending camera. As they passed it, the little button on the side of it blinked from green to red. "Vox isn't paying attention to his little toys. Dear me, he must be away from his surveillance room."

Lucifer squinted at the camera dubiously. "You can tell we're not being watched, by, what? The camera not coming back on?"

Alastor laughed, short and cutting. "Oh, it's more than lack of interaction." He leaned in close, as if he were parting with a juicy secret. "I can tell when Vox is watching." His smile was sharp and cruel and said everything about how pathetic he found the overlord in question. "His attention has a certain... desperation to it."

Lucifer wasn't certain which part of all of that to focus on first: the fact that apparently Vox had flat out stalked Alastor to the point Alastor knew when he was being watched or the fact that Alastor clearly found the whole thing hilarious.

Father, these sinner could be fucked up sometimes.

Lucifer grinned, unable to pass up the opportunity he'd just been handed to needle the deer demon. "Didn't do much about the camera that recorded the fight."

Alastor's expression soured around the edges. His ears flattened as he resumed his previous position, snide as he pointed out, "Yes, well, I was a bit distracted by doing all the work. You should try joining in next time."

Alastor hadn't let him get involved in any of the attacks, insistent that he had everything covered, and they both knew it. Lucifer had let him because he always half hoped someone would kill the asshole.

Lucifer let the conversation drop with little more than a roll of his eyes, his mind drifting as he processed this new information. If Alastor could indeed tell when Vox was watching (which, creepy) and had been surprised by one of the attacks being filmed, one could infer that Vox was keeping the hotel under a certain level of constant surveillance.

After returning from their day out, he had hauled himself up in his room as he scoured the news for mention of any attacks. Had tracked down the news reports Rosie had mentioned. There had only been a number written reports and many more reposted written reports, with a single video dedicated to the subject. The video itself contained footage from the first attack, despite the news articles having all been posted fairly recently. Judging from the general comments under the articles and the video, few people were interested in the hotel itself beyond wanting to know if it still stood or not.

They had been lucky the fight had forced the drone to retreat or risk being destroyed. Distance had rendered the video quality poor enough his bleeding hand wasn't visible for all of Hell to see. Everyone already knew angels could be harmed, killed even. It wouldn't do for anyone to get it into their pretty little heads that angel weapons might work on him or Charlie, however.

(Lucifer tried not to think about the main image he had seen, again and again, in those news articles. Tried not to think about how reverent Alastor had looked like as he reached his hand out to the Devil, as if he were the only God the sinner would ever be able to touch. The framing of the image had made it appear like it was something so different than it had really been.)

Light pressure on his shoulder drew him out of his thoughts. Out of the corner of his view, he caught Alastor withdrawing the hand he'd used to get his attention. It was a good thing he had, as it took a second for the sensor above the door to register their presence and trigger the door to open. He could only imagine what the media would have thought if a camera had caught Lucifer running right into the front doors of V Tower while lost in thought.

They stepped through the doors into a lobby themed in oranges and reds with purple accents. Hearts were definitely a motif, accenting arches and their support columns. Purple lanterns dotted every other column, more decoration than function. Lucifer took in the additional advertisements, some on the walls, some on a-frames. A large, flat screen tv displayed the VoxTek logo, but there was nothing currently playing on it.

There were a number of employees dotted around the lobby. A sheep sinner carrying a precarious stack of tablets raced off in one direction, while a horned rabbit sinner ran in another direction with an armful of clothing. A trio of sinners loitered off to the side, whispering back in forth in a frantic, hushed argument about what sounded like bottom lines and stocks. Near the back of the lobby, a blue and yellow sinner shouted about "messy actors" and "shitty wardrobes" as he frantically slammed his finger into the up button of the elevator.

At the center of the lobby, themed similar to the surrounding columns, was a welcome desk, currently being run by a white haired, fuchsia skinned sinner. Her tiny bat wings fluttered and drooped as she fielded calls. Distracted as she was, she failed to notice anyone had entered the lobby until Alastor and Lucifer had already reached the desk.

"One moment, please," she said to them, showing that she had at least noticed they were there. "Now where did Velvette say she wanted her calls sent to today...?" She bit her lip, finger hovering over one of a quite frankly insane number of optional extensions. Her eyes darted back and forth between two of them, before she shrugged and for all intents and purposes flat out guessed which one to send the line to. "Thank you for waiting," she said in a practiced, albeit polite monotone. "How may I... help..." She trailed off as she finally laid eyes on who had walked into the lobby, eyes going wide. She gaped as she recognized Lucifer but went completely blank as she took in Alastor's presence. The blonde was fairly certain that if he could read minds there wouldn't have been a single thought going through her head at that moment.

Lucifer fixed an equally practiced polite smile on his face. "Excuse me, miss," he began, only to pause when she failed to regain her senses, apparently still too flabbergasted by his companion. Brow twitching, he rapped his knuckles sharply upon the marble surface of the desk.

The noise seemed to do the trick, the sinner snapping out of her trance to jerk her head around. "Yes! Um." She swallowed, casting one last nervous glance at the Radio Demon. Between looking at Alastor and looking back at Lucifer, he could see her clawing her professional mask back on with the kind of experience that came from needing to remain calm when one's life was on the line. "How may I help you, sirs?" Her voice didn't even shake a little.

Noting the reaction and shelving the topic for later, Lucifer said, "Please let Vox know we are here to speak with him."

The sinner blinked, disbelief clear as day on her face despite her best efforts not to show it. "You..." Lucifer had the distinct impression the 'you' here was Alastor, even if she wasn't looking directly at him. "Wish to speak with... Vox?" Her tone suggested that had she not been speaking with Lucifer Morningstar, the literal king of Hell, she might have asked him if he was smoking something.

The noise, or lack there of, reached his ears. The general hustle and bustle of when they had entered had completely died down to be replaced by whispers and murmurs. Even without turning, he could feel all eyes on them. Lucifer glanced at Alastor, whose Cheshire Cat grin suggested he was internally laughing at all the fuss his being here was causing. His ears flicked to and fro as he followed different conversations.

Smile fixed in place, he affirmed, "Yup!" He waggled his fingers in the direction of her phone. "Now, please."

The receptionist stared off into the middle distance, the same blank look in her eyes he'd seen on soldier's who'd died at war. In the fatalistic tone of someone who didn't expect to have a job (or possibly be alive) in the morning, she said, "Whelp, this job sucked anyway."

Someone, a little too loudly, stage whispered, "Oh, I would not want to be in her shoes, right now."

Without turning, the receptionist flipped the person off with one hand while picking up the phone with the other. She pressed a seemingly random button as she put the receiver to her ear, a down right manic smile crossed her face.

Lucifer (and likely everyone in the lobby, as well) could tell the instant the phone was answered on the other end. A voice that matched the one's he'd heard in the advertisements bellowed, "WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT INTERUPTING MY MEETINGS?"

Taking advantage of the fact that it sounded like Vox was a sinner who needed to breathe on occasion, the woman said, voice picture perfect cheerful, "The King of Hell and the Radio Demon are here to see you, sir."

A very long, audible pause, both on the phone and from the lobby around them. Then, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN ALASTOR'S HERE??"

Lucifer raised an eyebrow at the redhead, incredulous. Seriously? What kind of history did these two have that Alastor showing up at V Tower was causing this kind of fuss? It was almost enough to make him forget he had been totally overlooked in that last statement.

Around them, every camera in the lobby suddenly came to life, zeroing in on them. Lucifer could tell by their synchronous motion, someone was likely watching them. Alastor's whole posture changed as he turned on one of the cameras, head tilted just so and smile lazy as he waved at it.

As one, those very same cameras began to sizzle and pop as they were all taken out.

Lucifer noted the redhead looked far too pleased with himself for that to have been anything other than deliberate. He knew Alastor hated being recorded, but that was just petty. Turning his attention to the receptionist, it was only because of his heightened sense of hearing that he was able to hear Vox, voice considerably more in control and at a much more reasonable volume, telling her to send them down.

"At once, sir." She set the phone down at leisure, as if she hadn't just had her eardrums tested by her boss shouting in them. Still looking at something only she could see, she said, "Vox will see you now." She pointed behind her to a set of elevators. "Please use the elevator on the right, as this is the only elevator with access to Vox's personal office." Placing her hands on the desk in a deceptively casual way, she finished, "Please have a hellish rest of your day."

"You, too," Lucifer said on reflex. He watched her as they made their way around the desk, throwing glances over his shoulder after they'd passed it. Under his breath, he asked of Alastor, "Think the hotel needs a receptionist?"

They had a front desk, didn't they? And a land line? Maybe? There was no mail service in Hell and Alastor had to get communications somehow, seeing as he refused to touch anything more modern than a radio. He'd check on it when he got back.

"Ha!" Alastor side eyed him. "Come now, your Majesty, you don't want poor Husker to be out of a job, do you?"

Lucifer belatedly remembered that apparently Husk doubled as not just their bartender, but also as their receptionist. He guffawed. One the one hand, Husk was indeed an great bartender, even willing to be a patient ear for one's troubles, if he tolerated them. He was certainly an exceptional judge of someone's character. On the other, was he a good receptionist? No offense meant to the avian feline in question, but, not in the slightest.

Lucifer added the mental note to check in on the receptionist later to his growing list of things to do.

The elevator opened without them pressing any buttons, suggesting that Vox, the creep, had other ways of keeping tabs on them. Lucifer and Alastor stepped in, the former not thrilled with how tiny the elevator was. There was just enough room for the both of them to stand side by side with little to spare. Insult to injury, the most obnoxious elevator music he had ever had the displeasure to have inflicted on him played over head. There were no buttons to chose from, but there seemed to be none needed as the elevator began its decent on it's own.

Lucifer reiterated: what a creep.

More to fill the silence and distract himself from the growing need to destroy the speaker putting out that horrible noise, he asked, "You ever been here before?"

In the same way most people would say, 'I'd rather die, thanks,' Alastor scoffed. "Absolutely not! I'd never inflict such poor company on myself willingly." Still, it wasn't hard to notice the little ways Alastor was on high alert, very much aware of the fact that he had walked willingly into enemy territory. His ego didn't allow him to worry, but it still paid to be alert to potential surprises.

Thankfully, the elevator didn't take long before reaching its destination. This new room was vast, with a color scheme nothing like the lobby's. Where the lobby was warm shades of orange, red and purple, this room was all cool shades of blue, red, white. The room was dark, only illuminates by dozens upon dozens of screens, most glowing with white light, a handful with red light. Red light filtered up from what appeared to be a deep pit surrounding a bridge-like walkway. Attached at the end was a round platform and attached to the platform was a seat surrounded by even more monitors.

This wasn't an office. This was a surveillance room.

Walking down the walkway was none other than the founder of VoxTek, Vox himself, striding along with all the confidence of someone who was at the top of their industry and knew it. His smile was wide and Lucifer immediately pegged it as the fake kind he usually saw on car salesmen. "Your Highness! Welcome!" Vox greeted. When he was close enough, he offered his hand out for a handshake.

Lucifer eyed it, just long enough to make it look like he wasn't going to take it. He didn't expect anyone to actually bow to him in greeting, but something about this guy left him half tempted to push for it now. Taking the hand, he allowed Vox to shake it to be polite.

When it came time to greet Alastor, the TV demon merely gritted his teeth and said, voice dripping with venom, "Alastor."

Alastor didn't appear bothered in the least by the rude greeting. Matching vitriol with amusement, he merely said, "Vox."

Lucifer looked from Vox, to Alastor, and then back to Vox. Man, he was so sorry he hadn't asked for more details on these two before they'd gotten here. Predicting this could go on a while if they were left to their own devises, Lucifer pointedly cleared his throat.

Vox's smile smoothed out, salesman mask back on place. "Yes, of course. Now, your highness," the sinner held out his hand towards the bridge, indicating he'd like them to come into his "office" proper. Lucifer didn't fail to notice there was only one seat down that way and it was meant for Vox. "May I call you Lucifer? Lucifer--"

Oh, absolutely not. They were going to have to nip that in the bud. Even Alastor, who had somehow become his rival for his place in his daughter's life and literally lived down the hall from him, was smart enough not to call him by name.

"The word you're looking for is 'Majesty'."

Vox paused, body tensing. The fallen angel got the impression he wasn't used to being interrupted. "Excuse me?"

Lucifer effected a bored stance, one hand settled on his cane as he explained, deliberately just this side of hostile, "Your Highness is how you would address my daughter." He looked Vox dead in the eye, making it pointedly clear he was deadly serious and there was going to be none of this BS about who was calling the shots. "Your Majesty is how you address your king."

Vox interestingly grew more calm in the face of his king's ire. "Of course, your Majesty," he said, immediately correcting course. He offered they move the conversation to the platform again. This time, Lucifer nodded. He followed as Vox lead the way, noting how the TV demon never quite turned his back on them, seemingly uneasy having Alastor at his back, even this deep into what was his own territory.

Lucifer took the time spent crossing the bridge to exam the pit around them. While the red light obscured the bottom itself, he was able to make out what appeared to be a very large tank behind equally large glass walls. Swimming around without a care in the world were what appeared to be several glowing sharks. He followed one as it made its way from one side of the pit to the other, able to sense there was nothing natural in their design. These creatures may have appeared to be alive, but they were all circuits and wires, through and through.

When they reached the platform, Vox showed sense by not going for his chair. He did stop in the center of the circle, a subtle attempt to regain some control of the situation. "Now, your Majesty," he began, just sincere enough it was impossible to tell if it was fake or not. "Please, tell me how I and VoxTek can be of assistance today."

Lucifer watched him. Watched the way his face was turned to Lucifer, but his eyes kept ticking to Alastor. Noted the way his body was tilted ever so slightly in the redhead's direction, as if drawn by a magnet he couldn't resist. Vox may have been putting on a show of talking to Lucifer, but he very much only had eyes for Alastor.

Someone was obsessed.

Someone was obsessed really badly.

Something that felt suspiciously like possessiveness reared its head deep within his chest. Lucifer had no more of a claim on Alastor than Vox did, but Alastor had chosen to live under his roof and was his daughter's hotelier. Finicky to the last, with all the loyalty of a feral, stray cat, Alastor was theirs.

Smile all teeth, eyes gold on red, Lucifer raised his free hand until they were right under where Vox's nose would be if he had one. He snapped his fingers, once, twice, sharply.

Vox nearly went cross-eyed, as he zeroed in on the offending digits, leaning slightly back.

"I know Alastor is very eye catching," Lucifer drawled, voice deepening as he let his displeasure seep in. "But you are talking to me. Do you understand?"

The TV demon had the grace to raise his hands, not necessarily in surrender, but certainly in a pacifying manner. It was easy to see him cycling through possible responses, as he fished for the one that would deescalate the situation the fastest. "I apologize, you Majesty, for any offense," he settled on, tone so polite it reeked of falseness.

Lucifer let him have it because it seemed Vox was finally cottoning on to the fact that there was a larger predator in the room then either of the two sinners. The reluctant king withdrew a step, pleased when Vox's eyes followed him, with not a single glance at Alastor. Now that he had the CEO's full attention, he decided it was time to get this show on the road. "I have a message for everyone in the Pride Ring. I've noticed how many people have a TV or a cellphone. I've also noticed VoxTek's reach." Lucifer said this last part only because it was true. However they had managed it, VoxTek has even managed to make it's way into the other rings.

For the first time since they'd arrived, Vox's smile actually appeared real. It put into stark light how fake the one he had been wearing up until this moment had been. "We would be thrilled to feature you on one of our television shows, your Majesty." He was smart enough not to look at Alastor, although it was obvious the next part was directed towards him. "Our viewership ratings have been going through the roof over the last few years. Statistics show that almost every household in the Pentagram City has a TV these days."

It was a good sales pitch. It might even have been true. The hotel had even had a TV, although Lucifer had explicitly forbidden anyone from bringing one into the palace, the exception being the live-in servants' personal quarters. Regardless, Vox hadn't said that to try and sale anyone on anything, he'd said it to rub it in Alastor's face that Lucifer had chosen to pass his message along over Vox's medium, instead of Alastor's.

Although they hadn't discussed it ahead of time, Lucifer found himself saying, in all the casualness of it having been a given, "If Alastor wishes to broadcast the message simultaneously over radio for our viewers who prefer the medium, he's more than welcome to do so, but we're not here to discuss that." He was fairly certain, even without turning around, that Alastor hadn't given it away that this was news to him.

The idea was reinforced by the way that Vox's eye twitched before he could regain control over it. "Yes, of course we want it to reach all of the intended audiences." Hands coming to rest at the small of his back, the TV demon attempted to steer them back on course. "Now, about the content of the message."

Lucifer tilted his head to the side. "Does it matter what the content is? Unless you prefer I go somewhere else to do this." Something that was also true. Mammon may lack any talent of his own, but he knew a cash grab when he saw one. He jumped onto the bandwagon that was television sets, TV shows, and moving advertisements as soon as the technology had hit Hell. The only reason none of his products where seen in the Pride Ring was because Lucifer limited his exposure to sinners were ever he could. If he gave him the green light, Mammon would topple VoxTek within a matter of months, if not less.

Vox paused, sensing he was in troubled waters, but not quite sure from which direction. "No, no. We here at VoxTek simply prefer to make sure that all the content we put out is content we stand by--"

Lucifer leaned in. If his tail were out, it would have been thrashing. "Are you saying your king could say anything VoxTek wouldn't support?"

Vox's screen left eye widened ever so slightly, the sclera going from a solid red, to more hypnotic red and black. It was there and gone in the blink of his eyes. His voice sounded glitchy as he gritted out a, "No."

"May I suggest something, your Majesty?"

Lucifer broke off what was quickly becoming a staring match with Vox to turn his attention to Alastor. The redheaded sinner had been standing behind him, seemingly content to watch the drama unfold from the side as Lucifer took the lead. Considering their rivalry, Lucifer was a little hesitant to allow Alastor to enter the fray, lest he potentially make things worse. However, he did appreciate the fact that these two knew each other better than he knew either of them.

Giving away the floor, at least for now, Lucifer gave a single short nod, for him to proceed.

Alastor stepped up until they were side by side.

Unable to resist now that the redhead had center stage, Vox immediately shifted to face him, Lucifer all but forgotten. He frowned, almost all pretenses of being a businessman all but thrown out the window. "What are you doing here, Alastor?" He snipped at the redhead. "I know you'll take any opportunity to move up in Hell, but I didn't take you as a kiss ass."

Alastor smiled at him, as if he were a short sighted child. "We hadn't gotten to that part, have we?" He gave his staff a little spin, noting the way Vox's eyes narrowed as he took in it's repaired state. "His Majesty asked me to stand with him as he gave his address."

Vox snorted, doubtful. "You'd never agree to appearing on screen." He actually started to laugh at the idea, until he realized Alastor was completely serious. "Wait, you said yes?" Gaping, he turned on Lucifer, seeming in his shock to forget who he was talking to. "What the hell did you do to get him to agree to show up on TV?" He glared back and forth between then, baring his teeth as he asked, "What, are you two fucking or something?"

Lucifer narrowed his eyes, lip curling back. In one fell swoop, Vox had just reduced himself to less than scum on the bottom of his boots. The only reason they were continuing this conversation was because he didn't feel like dragging Valentino down to the Greed Ring. "Maybe you just don't know how to speak his language," he snipped back, mouth moving before he could think about what he was saying or how much it gave away.

Before Vox could think too deeply on it, the redhead cleared his throat. For all that he preferred to be an unseen voice on the radio, Alastor did how to play his audience in person. "Let me sweeten the deal," he said, his hand running down the pole of his staff, eyeing the TV demon as he did so. "If you agree to broadcast our King's message, I'll do that one little thing you wanted me to do when you asked me to join you." He pointed the microphone end at Vox, the tip perilously close to his screen. "From when you agree to the end of the broadcast."

Vox stared at the microphone. Slowly, he raised his eyes until he met Alastor's. Something that looked suspiciously like sadness peaked through his anger, although Lucifer was certain they weren't supposed to see it. "You'd really do that. For him?"

Alastor withdrew his staff, tucking it under his arm. With his free hand, he reached out until a single claw rested under Lucifer's chin. Encouraging him to look up at him, Lucifer let Alastor tilt his head up and around to meet that fond expression on the redhead's face. "As his Majesty said, he knows how to speak my language."

Vox's eyes widened, a dawning expression coming over him. Real horror followed shortly behind it. "Holy shit," he whispered, staggering back. Lucifer tore his gaze away from Alastor's just in time to see him drop into his chair as if his strings had been cut. Dragging a hand down his face, Vox said with absolute certainty, "You actually made a Faustian Bargain."

He said it like this was his worst nightmare came to life.

Beside him, Alastor practically radiated smug triumph. It was all the affirmation he needed to give.

All of the fight hadn't been been cut from Vox just yet. Unhappy as he was with this set back, Vox was already trying to figure out how spin this in his favor. An elbow resting on each arm of his chair, the knuckles of his joined hands pressed to his lips, he countered, "Alright, Alastor does his thing and I'll broadcast whatever you want." His grin took up most of his screen, all pretenses of friendliness dropped. "Give me an hour to prepare the studio for you."

Before Vox could run off, Lucifer placed one last little condition on him. "Vox. Make sure the other Vees are in attendance." At the TV demon's questioning tilt of his head, the blonde merely said, "I wouldn't want anyone to miss my message."

Whatever Vox thought of this was hidden behind his joined hands. Instead of bothering with any of the usual ways out of the room, Vox transformed into a bolt of electricity, disappearing into one of the monitors.

Silence descended over the room. Then, "You two have history."

Alastor snorted. "You know how to use your eyes, your Majesty. I'm impressed."

Lucifer ignored the sarcasm and the insult in favor of observing his companion. The redhead's brows were furrowed with concentration, eyes closed and the very air around him warped to a noticeable degree. To Lucifer, a creature who had existed before physical matter, picking up on the way Alastor was enhancing certain electromagnetic waves around him was child's play. Hoping to kill two birds with one stone - learning more about their shared history while figuring out what the sinner was doing - the little king gave into his curiosity and asked, "What did Vox want you to do?"

Alastor didn't answer for a moment, whatever he was doing taking quite a bit of his concentration. Lucifer patiently waited him out. Several minutes ticked by with nothing by the hum of the monitors and the swimming of the sharks to keep him occupied. Cracking open a single eye a slit, Alastor reached a point in whatever he was doing where he could split his attention. Lucifer noted the pupil of the visible eye was a dial.

"Do you know how the technology in that silly little device in your pocket works?" Alastor asked by way of response.

The only things Lucifer tended to carry on his person were his cane, which was in his hand, and his cellphone, in case Charlie tried to call him (rare that it was). His cellphone, which was indeed in his pocket. Fishing it out, he eyed it. He knew it worked. He knew how to work it. Did he really need to know more? Besides, it wasn't one of VoxTek's cellphones, which made him less wary of it. Confused as to where this was going, he said, "It works, isn't that all that matters?"

"Such a pedestrian response." Alastor hummed, his microphone coming over to point at the little device. "You device works because it's able to transmit data via radio waves." He used his staff to gesture to the room around them, his eye falling shut now that he no longer needed to see to engage in the conversation. "Vox's specialty is electricity. He can interact with anything that uses it."

Lucifer remembered the way the TV demon had disappeared into his monitor, a chill running down his spine as he imagined what all else he could likely interact with.

"Radio waves, on the other hand, are my specialty," Alastor continued. This fit with what Lucifer had observed both in the current moment and back at the radio tower. "Usually I simply use them to connect myself to any radio in Pentagram City, but I can also enhance them." His edges of his smile tightened. There was no strain in his posture, but Lucifer was suspicious they might see hints of it if this carried on too long. "When Vox wanted to introduce wireless technology to Hell, he suggested that we team up. He would create the technology and the demand, and I would enhance his reach." His expression sharpened into a sneer. "I had no interest in being a mere tool in elevating him to the top."

Judging from the short interaction he'd observed, Lucifer was suspicious Vox had wanted much more than just to use Alastor as a tool. Vox had done little to hide the depth of his anger and hatred, and no one reached that level of emotion without having swung in the opposite direction first. Lucifer wondered if Alastor had really turned Vox down because of his own lust for power or if Alastor had seen the way Vox had looked at him and hadn't been interested.

Since that question was more likely to shut down the conversation then receive an answer, resigned himself to never knowing. Either way, he supposed he should be happy that Alastor had turned Vox down. Lucifer didn't want to think about what they could have accomplished if they had somehow found a way to work together.

Instead, he went with, "So, you can interact with anything that receives radio waves, then. Not just radios?"

In response, his cell phone dinged. The screen lit up to the lock screen, showing he had a new text message. Though it should be improbable, there was nothing in the place of a sender's name. Lucifer silently frowned at it, suspicious of who was the sender, but unwilling to open anything he didn't know who it came from.

As if sensing his distrust, Alastor crooned, "Go on. I promise it's not spam."

Lucifer was still wary, but he unlocked his phone. If this was malicious ware, Alastor was getting him a new phone.

The text message was indeed not spam. When he opened it up, there were simply two words:

You suck!

Lucifer glared at the message. "So, what? How would this help Vox?"

Alastor wagged a finger at him. "I'm currently high jacking every TV and cellphone with it's WIFI turned on. 666 News has never been more popular than it is right now." He paused, as if searching for something. "I excluded most of the phones in the hotel, but I do have Angel's."

Lucifer whistled, giving credit where it was due. That was honestly incredible. Terrifying in it's reach, holy shit, but incredible. A thought crossed his mind, an unholy grin slowly spreading across his face as he wondered, "Wait, if I reply to this, will the message go straight to you?"

"Ha!" Alastor shook his head, using his microphone to bop the top of Lucifer's hat. An impressive feat, considering his eyes were still closed. "Sorry, but I'm merely a transmitter and an amplifier. My abilities don't work that way."

Lucifer straightened his hat, half tempted to try anyway, just to see if it were true. Perhaps he would another time.

He was interrupted from any further questions by one of the monitors coming to life over Vox's chair. A moment later, the sinner himself reentered the same way he had left. Vox settled back in his chair, legs crossed and significantly more calm than when he left. "The studio will be ready for you in half an hour." He glanced once at Alastor, who had opened his eyes upon the TV demon's return, before returning back to Lucifer. "Let's relocate there now, shall we?"

Lucifer nodded. Instead of leading them towards the elevator they'd come down in, Vox merely joined them in the center of the platform. It became apparent why when the very middle suddenly began to rise, revealing there was yet more ways in and out of the surveillance room. Once they were back in the lobby, he led them over to elevator on the left, only sticking with them long enough to press the button of the floor with the studio, before pulling back out of it. "I'll meet you up there."

The door closed, once again leaving just the two of them and that horrible elevator music.

Lucifer glanced at Alastor. He still looked fine, but he was definitely putting out a lot of power. Feeling concerned (Alastor had agreed to do this for him) and wary of insulting him, he asked, checking in, "You doing okay, still?"

Alastor's ear twitched, the widening of smile showing he wasn't insulted, but rather amused. "Oh, don't worry your little head, I'll be just fine, your Majesty." Eyes aglow with more than just the power it took to carry out his promise, he added, "But I expect a reward when we return to the Hotel."

Lucifer felt a jolt run up his spine. The chain around his neck didn't manifest, but he could feel it tightening ever so. Alastor was invoking their deal, officially giving him his 12 hour notice. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, as Alastor had yet to actually invoke the deal since making it with him. Tilting his head so his hat hid his expression from both Alastor and the camera's gaze, Lucifer grumbled, "Should have known you'd do nothing for free."

The doors to the elevator opened, illuminating the redhead's sinister grin. A few sinners had paused to catch a glimpse of them as the doors opened, only to pale at the expression on Alastor's face. They quickly scurried off to carry out their tasks. Lucifer stepped through the doors, taking in the chaos in front of him. Numerous demons were running around, similar to the frantic energy he'd seen in the lobby, everyone getting the studio ready. A stack of papers and angry shouting from a blonde woman in a red dress (what was her name? It started with a K) suggested that something else had been planned for this hour, but had been cancelled due to Lucifer's abrupt interruption.

Lucifer might have felt bad, if it weren't for the fact that he knew without a shadow of a doubt this particular reporter was likely going to find some way to verbally eviscerate him later. He may not have remembered her name, but he did remember her particular brand of cutthroat journalism and the outright nasty things she had said about his daughter in the past. And her casual abuse of her co-reporter.

As if sensing she was being watched, the reporter turned her head a full 180 degrees, her smile down right unhinged and full of promises.

Not for the first time since landing in Hell, Lucifer almost wished he was still capable of creating Holy Water. There were some situations one just needed a spray bottle full of the hard core stuff for.

"Your Majesty," Vox pipped up, appearing from seemingly nowhere. The only reason Lucifer didn't jump was because he was still caught in a glaring match with a literal reporter from Hell. "This way, please."

Lucifer carried on glaring at her, right up until he physically couldn't. "I don't care who you've got sitting with me, I don't want her anywhere near me."

Vox followed his gaze, snorting when he saw who he'd been making a stink eye at. "Oh, no worries." He turned his own glare on Alastor. "I'll be copiloting right along with you."

Lucifer took in the two chairs. If he was sitting in one and Vox in the other, Alastor was going to be left standing. Judging from the gleam in the TV demon's eye, this was on purpose. Vox pulled out the seat on the right, the malicious reporter's coworker's usual seat, a smile so fake one would have to be blind to think it sincere spread across his screen. "Just a few more finishing touches, and then we'll be ready to begin." He turned on his heel and disappeared back into the bowels of the studio.

Lucifer blinked down at the seat. He could already feel the sheer number of eyes from the people in the studio, watching and waiting to see what he was going to do next. This was the first time almost every single one of them had ever seen him in person. He already hated everything about this. It was more than enough to make him want to retreat back to his room at the hotel and not come out for the rest of the month.

A gentle brush, an almost tickle, against the back of his neck, the feeling almost shockingly intimate, startled him. He inhaled sharply, not having noticed that he had stopped breathing. Instinctively, he turned his back on the growing crowd, his hand coming up to half way, before he aborted the motion. Turning to face him, Lucifer noted that Alastor appeared to have not done anything, standing in that default pose he favored. The only reason Lucifer could tell it had been him that touched him was from the way the redhead was watching him.

"Smile, your Majesty," Alastor murmured, voice pitched low and soothing. "The hardest part is almost over. I'll be with you the whole time."

How out of sorts had he been that even the Radio Demon was taking pity on him? That the reassurance was a comfort?

Lucifer breathed in slowly through his nose, breathing out even slower through his mouth. His racing heart began to calm, as he reminded himself that he had taken on far more terrifying beings than a room full of nosey sinners. This was all for Charlie and the safety of her dream, and for that, he could handle anything.

He dropped into the offered chair, the anticipation of a battle falling over his shoulders like a weathered cape.

A door opened off to the side, one that he hadn't seen anyone coming and going through. Stepping through were none other than Valentino and Velvette themselves. Velvette was typing away on her phone, muttering about an interruption to her photo shoot.

Valentino paused as he caught sight of Lucifer and Alastor. "Oh! If it isn't papito, himself!" The grin spreading across his face and choice of wording caused the blonde's skin to crawl. Sauntering over, Valentino nearly draped himself over desk, bringing his and Lucifer's faces far too close together. "You wouldn't want to hang around after this little show for some one on one time, now would you, mi pequeño rey?"

Lucifer had barely managed to do more than lean back in his chair, trying to escape the heavy stench of smoke and hard drugs that hung around the Overlord like a second skin, when a weigh settled heavily on his shoulder. He glanced up, finding that Alastor had stepped up beside him, hand placed in such a way that it wrapped possessively around shoulder and was beginning to snake around the back of his neck.

"Valentino." Alastor's filter was grating, a warning despite his pleasant smile.

Valentino lazily blew out a thin pink, heart shaped mouth of smoke. It hit Alastor in the face. His smile was filthy as he gave the deer demon a once over. "Don't be jealous, venado, my offer is still open to you, too."

The static glitch of a record screeching. It wasn't hard to pick out Alastor's distaste with everything from the offer to the Overlord himself. "Pass," he quipped back, shotting down the offer with extreme prejudice.

The pimp shrugged, viewing it as his loss. He turned his attention back to his original target. "What do you say, papito? We could--."

"Val." Vox's voice was barely recognizable through whatever filter he was using, the noise causing Lucifer to flinch as it grated at his ears.

Valentino pouted, somehow making it look aggressive. "Vox, querido, what have I said about using that tone with me?" He twisted around in a way that accented his figure. "Don't be upset because the Radio Demon's already turned you down."

"The show is about to start, Val," Vox pointed out evenly and sternly, despite the dig. Lucifer was beginning to pick up that when it was anyone other than Alastor, the TV demon might actually be able to keep a cool head. "How do you think it will look if we don't start on time?"

Valentino's pout to edge in the direction of a normal pout. "Spoil sport." He leaned back until he was facing Lucifer. He reached out, running a single finger along the underside of the blonde's chin. "Call me if you change your mind." Offer made, he thankfully, finally got off the desk and made his way back over to Velvette.

Lucifer was going to take a long, hot shower when he got back to the hotel. With acid. Regrow some nice, new skin that Valentino had never touched.

Alastor pulled him from his thoughts, giving the back of his neck a squeeze. Lucifer was almost sad for the loss of contact when he pulled his hand away so he could resume his prior position.

From where he stood, Vox watched the two of them, his expression unreadable. Several minutely later, the blue and black themed sinner dropped into his own seat, calling out to the cameraman as he did so. "How's the camera holding up?"

The cameraman peaked at Alastor, indicating this question was because of the redhead's tendency to take out anything with a camera around him. The sinner studied his monitor and then gave a thumbs up.

Vox clicked his tongue. "So," he gripped, irritation heavy in his voice. "You can be recorded without destroying my electronics."

Lucifer couldn't see Alastor from where he was standing almost directly behind him, could only hear the tapping on his fingers on his microphone. His taunt was malicious as he came back with, "We both know I can be photographed ...when I want to be."

The TV demon grimaced, the hit landing where it obviously hurt. He had little time to recover, as the cameraman began his countdown. As he hit zero, Vox's smile was back in place, just a lot less real.

"Top of the hour, folks!" Vox's voice was loud and boisterous, the rhythm and pace almost break neck. "Breaking news: in a rare interview, we're joined by none other than the King of Hell and the Devil himself, Lucifer Morningstar!" Vox leaned over, holding a hand out to indicate the fallen angel sitting beside him. "Please, give your people a little wave, your Majesty."

Lucifer resisted the urge to flip him off. Gave the camera a little wave with little enthusiasm.

Vox carried on, unphased, "Equally rare and unlikely to never happen again, fellow sinners, we also have radio talk show host, the Radio Demon himself, Alastor!"

Alastor didn't wave. He grinned straight into the camera, as if staring into the very souls of the views, eyes and teeth alight as reality itself threatened to warp around him.

The camera gave an alarming whine. The cameraman gave an alarmed cry as it threatened to give out.

Point made, Alastor seemed to remember he was supposed to be behaving. The camera stopped whining as reality returned to normal.

Vox's eye twitched. Smile strained along with his chipper tone, he said, "Your Majesty, I assume your being here is because of the attacks on the hotel your daughter is running?"

Lucifer gave him his own chipper smile. "You mean the attacks you only know about because of your voyeuristic habits?"

Vox laughed, a touch nervously. "You've clearly never dealt with the paparazzi, sire. One has to cross a few boundaries if they want to get the exclusive first."

Was that what he was going with?

Either blind to it or ignoring it, Vox glossed over Lucifer's offense, moving on to, "Please, tell us, do you have any idea who's behind the attacks? We're dying to know."

Lucifer highly doubted that. Or at least, doubted Vox cared. It was more likely he wanted the hotel to fail or get taken out, judging from his poorly concealed eagerness. He leaned his elbow onto the table, chin resting on his palm. "I'm not here to waste my time nor the listeners' with an interview." He took delight in watching Vox falter for the first time since the interrogation began. Over his shoulder, he called sweetly, "Alastor?"

Alastor's voice was just sweet and still more bloodthirsty. "Yes, sire?"

It was a show of how in tune Vox was with Alastor's moods that the TV demon was already beginning to sweat. He was doing a good job of hiding it, Lucifer would give him that. It was a pity he was sitting beside someone who could see right through him, when he chose to make the effort. Lucifer rose from his chair, the blue and black sinner nearly taking a screen full of wings as they manifested. "Be a doll and make certain Vox doesn't get any ideas. Like interfering."

"With pleasure." Alastor's words were nearly lost to his filter. The air around them crackled, the shadows in the corners of the room growing unnaturally dark. Vox dropped all pretenses of pretending he wasn't unnerved, leaning back as much to avoid the wings as to distance himself from the redheaded sinner.

Red and white wings fluttered, giving Lucifer the lift to make stepping up onto the desk look effortless. Papers flew everywhere and a few people made startled noises as they were hit with a few errant pages. His wings fanned out, allowing him to gracefully fall into a seated potion on the other side of the desk. He leaned to the side, placing his weight on the hand braced on the desk, head rolling until he was facing the other two Vees. "Velvette, if you value your life just sit there and look pretty for a bit."

Velvette narrowed her eyes to slits at him. "What the hell?"

Valentino waited to see what advice he had for him. When he received none, the pimp blew out a lung full of pink smoke. His expression turned sultry. "Nothing for me, pequeño rey?"

Lucifer didn't respond, not wanting to give the game away too soon. Relaxing his control over his form, he allowed the full extent of his corrupted, angelic form to appear on full display for all of the viewers to see. Far too many eyes focused in on not just the camera, but the cameraman and the sinners directly around him. Each of them instinctively shied away, hindbrains warning them they were out in the open and too exposed. Vox attempted to push his chair back, the area around the desk suddenly a little too hot, only to be stopped by the end of Alastor's strategically placed staff locking the chair in place.

Lucifer rolled his head back around, until he could easily stare into the camera. "Now, to clear up a few things: I could care less about sinner politics." He grinned in that way he knew looked off, even for a creature of Hell, leaning into the fact that he wasn't human and had never been human. "How you decide to throw away the one good thing you stupid, stupid little humans have going for you is up to you." His pupils were lost in a red glow as his temper spiked, the flame of hellfire blazing between his horns. " What I do take issue with is someone sending hitman to threaten my daughter over something as silly as potential lost contracts."

He slid off the desk, the sinners in front of him all collectively taking a step back. Only the cameraman stayed in place, too frozen to move. "Perhaps it's my fault, I've been away a while." He held out a hand, fingers searching until he found the particular contract he was looking for. "Perhaps it's yours for never reading the fine print." His hand closed around his desired target, a chain made of pink, translucent smoke, deceptively fragile, coming into being. One end led out the doors. The other end led off to the side, leading over to a certain Overlord.

Valentino's and Angel's contract.

The pimp held up his wrist, confusion evident on his face. "The fuck?"

Lucifer's grin was all teeth. He wrapped his hand around and around the chain until he had a nice, solid grip on it. Without warning, he viciously yanked on the chain.

Valentino was pulled so hard, his shoulder nearly popped out of its socket. The pimp yowled like a cat dropped into pool as he was sent crashing to the floor. Lucifer didn't give him the chance to recover, reeling him in like a particularly resistant fish, the Overlord shouting and cursing as he was dragged across the floor. The Devil gave no quarter, even when he had him where he wanted him, pressing his heel into Valentino's back and twisting moth's arm until it was just short breaking.

"You see," Lucifer carried on, tone bored and voice raised over the slew of insults being thrown his way, "There's this little clause in your contracts that say I have the final say in every single one of them."

"You little shit!" Valentino hissed, twisting in a way that should be impossible for someone who purportedly had a spine. "We had nothing to do with the attacks on that shithole your hija is running."

Lucifer pulled on the chain until he could hear the shoulder pop. The sinner's claws dug into the ground beneath him, glare baleful. "Maybe," Lucifer said, almost nonchalant. "But you're the lowest kind of sinner: the kind that profits on selling human flesh and locks people into contracts so they can never escape."

The moth demon snarled, composure gone. "Every one of those whores came to me willingly. I made them stars. They would be nothing without me."

The Devil peered down at him, unmerciful. All of Valentino's sins where on display for him to see and judge and he found him wanting. "Nothing gives you the right to abuse another human being."

Lucifer returned his attention to the camera. He wrapped his free hand around another section of the chain, pulling the links tight between his two fists. "Let everyone remember that your little deals mean nothing if I say so."

Without further ado, he pulled almost effortlessly on the chain, Valentino's strength that of a kittens next to his. A link, just off center, gave, pulling apart until it shattered. Each one of the links similarly followed suit, falling from his hand like crystalline shards. They vanished like the smoke they had originally appeared as before they could hit the ground.

Valentino's arm, free of the chain, fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Lucifer stepped off his back, releasing him. Stepping around the desk this time, he held his hand out to Alastor. The Radio Demon blinked back at him, something delighted behind his gaze.

It looked a little like victory.

He took Lucifer's hand.

"The Hazbin Hotel and every one of its residents are under my protection," Lucifer declared into the stunned silence, voice projected loud and unearthly, raising the hair on ever sinner's head, save the one in front of him. He looked upon each of the sinners in the room, gaze coming to rest on the camera lens. "I will not have mercy upon anyone looking to cause my daughter anymore trouble."

To his right, a portal appeared. Without another word, he stepped through it, pulling Alastor along with him.

As everyone continued to stare, the portal vanished and they were gone.

tbc

Translations:

-Papito: Little daddy

-Mi pequeño rey: My little king

-Venado: Deer or venison. I chose this word as a way for Valentino to make a dig at the fact that Alastor's demon form is a type of food source.

-Querido: Darling, used if you love or like someone. Chosen as a shoutout to the affair they're clearly having.

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”

[melon-fodder]

-> KINKTOBER MASTERLIST <-

♡ WARNINGS: reader has a pussy and tits, rough sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, demeaning pet names (doll, sweetheart, bitch), outdoor sex, forced proximity, toji is insufferably hot, kinda dub-con

♡ WORD COUNT: 3.5k

♡ NOTE: was so hoping I would get this one done and I did, so ha! For anyone who has been brought here by this piece, please know I do not regularly post JJK, so sorry! Enjoy reading~

This cabin is a joke. Unliveable. He shouldn’t be in a shithole like this. Toji comes from money. He’s used to living in luxury–penthouses with big screens and full bars, king-sized beds with sheets made from Egyptian cotton.

So the goddamn cot in this fucking Lincoln Logs-ass shack is frankly insulting, and if he wasn’t in hiding, he would march right into his pretentious boss’ office and give him a piece of his mind and maybe the barrel of his gun.

The only good thing about Toji’s current predicament is that he’s not alone. You are also with him, two assassins laying low in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. Of course, he may as well be all by himself; it’s not as if you’re actually paying him any attention.

You’re pissed at him, acting like a little bitch because he may have almost botched a job the two of you were on. So what? The guy is still dead. Riddled with a few too many bullets, sure, but that’s neither here nor there.

At least Toji still gets to ogle you, watch you shuffle around the cabin in leggings and loose sweatshirts. No bra, either. Yeah, he’s seen the way your nipples peek out from under the material. Fucking tease. Just as tempting as the way spandex hugs your ass and, in some cases when Toji is lucky, perfectly outlines what he knows must be the prettiest little pussy.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you bite out, glaring at him from over your mug of steaming tea.

Toji smirks, spread out on the threadbare couch while you stand in the shitty kitchen about six feet away from him. “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, doll.”

“Oh, fuck you. You’ve been watching me like I’m your next target. I’m getting tired of it.”

“Well, boo-fucking-hoo,” he sneers. “There’s nothing better to do in this pile of shit. May as well enjoy the view.”

You set your cup down too forcefully, liquid sloshing out from the side, then stomp over to him, leaning into his space in an oh-so tantalizing way. You’re putting yourself in a real precarious position, he thinks, smart enough to keep his mouth shut as you fume.

“You even think about putting your hands on me, and I swear I’ll turn you into a fucking Ken doll.”

Toji grins sideways. “That mean you’ll touch it?”

The force of your slap is a little jarring, he has to admit, but not at all surprising. You’ve been riled up since the two of you arrived days ago, and Toji is not doing anything to help you relax on your little getaway. The complete opposite, actually. Truthfully, he’s a little impressed that it’s taken you this long to hit him.

But, you made the first move (he loves that in a woman), so he has no choice but to retaliate, swiftly pulling you into his lap, unashamed of his now half-hard dick.

“Jesus Christ, you’re sick,” you yell, struggling in his grip, rubbing your plump little ass all over his cock. “Let go of me!”

“Keep squirmin’ like that, and I’m gonna make a mess in my pants, babygirl.”

Unlikely–he’s not some teenager who’ll cum at a little grinding–but the way your face morphs with disgust is too good. “Would you clean it up for me if I asked nicely?” he teases further, grunts when your heel comes down hard against his shin.

His grip loosens enough for you to escape his hold, and Toji mumbles a dejected, “tease,” as you shoot to the other side of the very small room.

“I will kill you right fucking here if you ever do that again,” you grit through your teeth, hands shaking where they’re balled into fists.

Toji shrugs, annoyed, unsatisfied, and throbbing in the confines of his sweats. “Try it. I’ll have you pinned faster than you can even reach your gun.”

You huff, knowing damn well he’s right. You’re good at killing; he won’t deny that.

He’s just better.

~

Toji starts playing with you more after that, seeing how many of your buttons he can press without actually facing your promised wrath.

It’s the way he stares at you, casually brushing up against you in seemingly innocent ways. He walks around shirtless, making it impossible for you to not look at him.

Really, he just takes up as much room as he possibly can, ensures that you don’t get a moment’s peace. It’s obviously affecting you. He watches you get more and more restless as the days go by. You’re both bored out of your minds with only a few channels on the fucking box television to keep you entertained.

There is literally nothing to do but sleep and fuck. Toji’s been doing a lot of both (though, he wishes it was your pussy he was fucking and not his fist in the shower).

You, however, choose walking over sex, going on long strolls around the perimeter. You say that you’re being vigilant, but Toji knows you’re just trying to get away from him.

“You know, if you’d let me, I could help you relax,” he offers one day, trying to tune out the sound of your never ending footsteps as you pace back and forth. “Seriously, you’ve gotta simmer down.”

“You realize there are several bounties out on both of us right now, right? Like, does that not bother you?”

“Not really,” he replies. “People have been wanting to kill me since I was born. This ain’t nothin’ new.”

You stop pacing and look at him, eyebrows pinched in adorable confusion. “That’s… actually kinda sad.”

“Right?” Toji agrees, pouting dramatically as he tries, “wanna help me feel better about my sad, sordid life?”

He laughs when you groan, scrubbing your hands down your face. “You just won’t fucking quit, will you?”

“Not until I get to feel your pussy squeezin—”

You cut him off, “just stop!” voice all pitchy and grating. However, the next thing out of your mouth is like music to Toji’s ears: “if I let you fuck me, will you get off my back about it?”

He lifts an eyebrow, ignoring the way his cock twitches, then lies through his teeth, “absolutely,” because he already knows that once he’s had you, he’s gonna want you over and over and over again.

Sucking your teeth, you cross your arms over your chest and grumble, “fine,” as your mouth twists downward. “But later. For now I need to be… not around you.”

“Whatever you gotta do to get ready, sweetheart. You know where to find me.”

Except Toji doesn’t stay still for long. He waits for just a few minutes, long enough for you to let your guard down. Long enough for you to get a head start. And then takes off in the same general direction that you did.

You’re nowhere in his line of sight, but you’re easy to follow especially since you don’t actually know you’re being tracked. Your boots leave trails in the brown, fallen leaves, steps echoing off every branch that surrounds you.

A chilly breeze whistles through the trees, but Toji is too hot to really feel it. You may be covered up head to toe in a flannel and tights, but you won’t be for long. Soon, he’ll strip you down, and by that time, you’ll be thankful for the wind.

You move slowly, absentmindedly, look lighter now that you think you’re alone. Your shoulders aren’t as tense, and your fingers move as if you’re rehearsing a song. Different from the high-strung little bitch he’s had to live with for the past week.

Too busy watching you, Toji isn't focused on the ground beneath his feet. The sound of a twig snapping may as well be a gunshot, and you drop into a crouch immediately, neck practically snapping as you twist to find the source: him.

You lock eyes with each other, and something must flash in his, something dangerous—something hungry. He stays still, watching you watch him. Assessing. Registering him as the threat that he is.

“You gonna run from me?” he taunts, and you answer by doing exactly that, taking off at a sprint.

It makes Toji’s blood race in a way he’s only experienced when holding a weapon, when spattered with blood. It’s the rush he feels when he’s holding someone’s life in the palm of his hand.

He hurries after you, not quite at his full speed—that would end this too quickly—but fast enough to keep his heart pumping, quick and heavy where it rattles in his ribcage.

You veer left and he follows, giving you enough space to make you feel like you just might outpace him, that maybe you’ll get somewhere safe.

Boots slipping on the foliage underfoot, you careen forward only to catch yourself on your hands and push forward like a track star. Toji is locked on to your every movement now, the pump of your legs and arms, the way your hair whips around your face, the panicked little noises that slip from your mouth that you think he can’t hear.

Oh, but he can. He hears and sees it all, and he wants it. He wants you.

You have no fucking idea how cute you are like this, eyes widening when you chance a glance over your shoulder to find him gaining on you.

A high pitched shriek, and then he sees it—the ghost of a smile, a hysterical giggle bubbling out of your chest.

Toji feels his face split into a manic grin, desire coursing through his veins, clogging his arteries, making his mouth water and his dick twitch. When he gets his hands on you…

“You havin’ fun?” he calls from behind you, blessed with another look from you, craning your neck to catch a glimpse of him, and it’s that curiosity that cuts this little game short.

You trip over a root and go down hard this time, grunt when all the air is pushed from your lungs. He doesn’t give you the chance to get back up, just puts his foot in the middle of your back to keep you in place.

Toji clicks his tongue in an admonishing tsk, presses down on you with a little more weight when you start to wiggle.

“I see why you’re so scared about those bounties,” he muses, “you’re way too fuckin’ easy to track down.”

“I wasn’t—hh—” he pushes harder just for the fun of it and is rewarded with a little squeak of desperation. “��wasn’t trying to hide.”

“No?” Toji removes his foot only to lower himself, squatting over you as he slinks a hand around your neck and tugs you toward him so that your back bends into a painful arch. “Why’s that?”

“Fuck you,” you manage to gasp, your fingers curling into the dirt, feet scrambling for traction to relieve some of the pressure he’s putting on your spine.

He laughs darkly, “you wanted me to catch you, didn’t you? This your idea of foreplay?”

Without letting you answer, he lets go of you and flips you over, takes in the sight of your heaving chest and the wild look in your eyes.

“Tell me, doll, did that get your pussy wet?” He reaches between your legs, rubs your mound through your tights and smirks at how much heat is radiating from your core.

“Not so much fight in you now, is there?” he teases, licking his lips when you rub yourself against his palm.

“Would you just… nng fuck—just get on with it,” you grit.

“Get on with what?”

“Just fuck me!” you plead. It comes off as a demand, but Toji knows better, appreciates the position you’re in. You’re nothing but a scared dog, snapping at a hand that’s only trying to feed you.

“Right here?” he questions in fake surprise, “in the woods? Dirty girl.”

“Toji, I swear to God—”

He shuts you up with a harsh kiss, the kind that bruises, leaves lips split, swollen, and slick with spit. The kind of kiss that makes you chase him after he’s pulled away.

“You talk too much,” he states plainly, and all you do is slowly blink at him.

Yeah, he’s got you now. You’re fucking hooked, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

He’s nearly fully hard, grinds his cock against your stomach so that you can feel what you’ve gotten yourself into. You whimper and roll your hips, baiting him further, but he doesn’t go for it. Not yet.

Instead he sits back on his knees and paws at your tights, starting to pull them down before he gets impatient and simply tears. It doesn’t take much effort; they’re made of cheap material and Toji is, well, stronger than the average person.

You make a noise of protest, but it dies in your throat when he spreads your legs and stuffs your already dripping cunt with two of his fingers.

“I knew you were getting off on that—just like I knew you’d have the most gorgeous fuckin’ pussy,” he drawls, watching the way his fingers split you open and groaning at how warm and soft you are. God damn, you are going to feel divine wrapped around his cock.

“Come on, baby, tell me you liked it…” he licks a stripe up your neck, his free hand slipping under your sweatshirt to grope your tits— “heart’s beating so fast. You excited?”

You shake your head and buck your hips all at once, and when Toji leans close again, you surge up to catch him in another cruel kiss. This time, you fist your hands in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him grunt.

He lets you think you’re at least halfway in control, but the longer you taste him, the faster he fingerfucks you, his palm slapping against your clit as he increases the pace until you start to grow tense beneath him.

He knows that look, that tell-tale coil of muscles. You stop kissing him, breaths getting short and quick, but Toji keeps his face close to yours, growls at you to, “look at me while you cum,” as he pulls your first, messy orgasm from you.

You truly are a sight to behold, whole body spasming as your cunt sucks at his fingers. You break his gaze when your eyes roll into the back of your head, lips trembling around poorly formed pleas.

It feels like his last shred of sanity snaps. Seeing you run from him was one thing, triggered something primal in his brain that made him chase—hunt—but this, having you laid out on the dirt and the leaves…

This is how it was always supposed to be, Toji thinks to himself as he pulls his cock free from his pants. It throbs with every beat of his heart, pulsing in his palm and leaking pearly precum.

You’re soft and pliant from your orgasm, offering only a whimper when he readjusts and hikes your leg over his shoulder.

“Gonna be good for me, yeah?” he huffs, lining himself up with your sopping entrance, thick head prodding at your squishy ring of muscle. “Just take it like a good girl, just—”

He cuts himself off with a groan as he starts pushing in, bullying his way into your perfect cunt and reveling in the noises it makes. You suck him deeper and deeper, and Toji laughs at the expression painting your pretty face: shock, maybe a little fear as you struggle to look down at where you’re attached, watching as he fills you inch by inch.

Your body stretches around him, makes him feel like fucking Moses the way your spongy walls make room for his girth.

“Fuck… fuck, Toji, you’re—”

“Sh, sh, I know, sweetheart, just a little more,” he lies. He’s maybe halfway in, but there’s no way he’s stopping now, not until his cockhead is bruising your cervix.

You whine, back arching, and Toji tries to soothe you with a clumsy kiss only to hiss when you catch his lip and bite hard.

He grunts, tries to pull back, but you keep him still, drawing blood from his mouth first then his ribs when you claw at him. He can feel his shirt cling to the shallow wounds and growls when you release him, the sudden loss of pressure just as painful as the initial bite.

“Jesus, woman…”

“You—hah—deserve it,” you choke, stained mouth opening wider and wider with every inward thrust.

Your cry echoes in the woods when he bottoms out without warning, and Toji immediately sets a merciless pace. He watches you coat his thick shaft in cream, your poor little fuckhole so leaky and stretched. The noises you’re making are more animal than human, needy whines and pained grunts as you take everything he has to give.

Toji fists a hand in your hair, gives your head a little shake and watches the way your eyes slowly roll to meet his. Your lips are swollen, still red with his own blood, but they part when he tells you to, “open wide,” so he can spit on your tongue. Toji grins when you swallow, finally finally too out of your damn mind to talk back.

“That’s a good bitch,” he mutters, and when he sees your mouth twitch into a little smile, he pushes further, “that’s all you wanted, yeah? You just needed to be put in your place, huh, baby?”

He throws your other leg over his shoulder and locks both arms behind you, hands curling up your back to grip your shoulders. Rutting into you relentlessly, Toji kisses and bites all over your neck and chest, licking up the drool that slips from your mouth.

You’ll be in a world of pain tomorrow, but you’re tough, so you’ll live. And even if he has to listen to you bitch and moan, it’ll be worth it after feeling your sweet pussy wrapped around him, gushing all over his fat cock with every orgasm he forces out of you.

“T-Ji…”

It comes out more as a cough, one that Toji ignores as he feels his climax approach. He uses you like a toy, fucking into you over and over and committing the sticky squelch of your pussy to memory. He’s gonna replay this masterpiece over and over for years to come, fucking his fist while imagining the way you look right now—tears streaming down the sides of your face, lips spit slick and swollen, skin all bruised up from his own mouth and fingers.

Fuck, you’re gorgeous. You’re gorgeous, and you’re taking his cock so well, pussy swallowing him up and squeezin’ so so nice, he has to let go. He has to—

“Oh fuck, baby, gonna fill you up so good. You ready?”

You respond with a sort of gurgle that Toji takes as confirmation, and after a few more thrusts he empties his heavy balls inside of you. He doesn’t think he’s ever cum so much or so hard in his life, hot white painting your guts in viscous ropes until it starts seeping out around his cock.

Your poor cunt is so swollen, lips all puffy and messy with slick and cum. And that fat little clit—Toji pinches it, probably too mean, and coos at you to relax and take it when you start to sniffle.

“Sorry, baby. Gotta make sure you get yours too, right?” He knows you already have, but he can’t help but toy with you a little longer.

Besides, you’re being so good for him now, so docile as your body twitches, jaw moving like you want to say something but can’t, eyes rolling all around your pretty head until your muscles seize up and you cum for him one more time.

“There we go—that’s a good girl, see?” You blink teary eyes at him, a deep breath shuddering through you as one, maybe two senses return to you. “Feel better?”

You nod slowly as if confused. Or high. Probably the latter considering Toji is feeling pretty stoned too, a little dizzy as he sits up straight and leans back on his heels.

“Good. Next time you need the attitude fucked outta ya’, just tell me instead of actin’ like a bitch, ‘kay?”

A little smirk curls onto your face, and before Toji can react, you’re sitting up with two hands wrapped around his throat.

“Call me that again, and I’ll show you what a bitch can really do.”

Your palm presses against his windpipe in a threatening way. Your eyes shine with dark promise.

And Toji’s cock twitches at the idea of riling you up all over again.

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DP x DC Nobody Knows AU Part 9

Part 8

“Nothing? At all?”

“Nothing, Red,” Barbara's voice repeats through the speakers of the Batcomputer, sounding irritated at this point.

“But- I mean, did you try-”

“She's going to come to the cave and shove a Batarang up your ass if you ask her one more time whether she missed something, Replacement,” Jason drawls off to the side. He's reclining in a chair, feet kicked up on a weapons table.

Tim groans. “I know, I know. I'm sorry.”

He's back in the Cave, and so is pretty much everyone else. Turns out he'd caused something of a panic, and it was all hands on deck for a hot second.

When the engineer had density shifted out of his grasp and heckled him from some nebulous spot midair, it had taken only a few seconds afterwards for Tim’s comms to explode with noise.

Turns out nobody had been able to hear anything from him except a constant low static from shortly before the encounter until after it ended, and his mask camera was borked the whole time too.

Understandably, there was some alarm about that. Bruce had ordered everyone back to the cave for a full explanation and conversation on what the hell happened.

“Sit down and tell us what happened, baby bird. You're gonna wear a hole in the floor at this rate,” Dick tells him, a gentle hand on his shoulder nudging him towards a seat.

Tim groans and throws himself into it like a puppet with his strings cut.

“Well he's definitely a meta,” he grumbles. “I never actually laid eyes on him. Wouldn't have even known he was there if he hadn't gotten ghost busted.”

“Ghost busted?” Jason asks, eyebrows raised. Tim huffs out a reluctant laugh, because in retrospect that part was pretty funny.

“His fucking phone went off. All of a sudden the empty air next to me was blasting the Ghostbusters theme song and an invisible man was swearing like a sailor until it cut out.”

Stephanie blows a raspberry in the start of a laughing fit, and suddenly the whole cave is echoing with mirth. It lifts Tim's spirits a little, makes him laugh too.

He means, come on. That has to be the new record for the funniest botched stealth mission, a position previously held by Damian when a stray dog outed him because it smelled the treats he keeps in his utility belt.

The shade of red the demon brat's face was when he had to explain why the mission went sideways was fucking glorious.

“So you've confirmed that we're dealing with a male meta?”

Speaking of the brat.

“Sounded male, and he at least has invisibility and density shifting,” Tim confirms.

“Density shifting?” Bruce prompts.

“Yeah. After the phone went off I couldn't see him but I was trying to figure out where he was. Then the lockbox disappeared too - he can transfer the invisibility through touch, apparently.”

“Huh. Haven't seen that before,” Duke comments.

“Me neither. But I made an educated guess at where I thought he was and grabbed his arm. Had a damn good grip, and then he just…went through me. Like I literally felt something pass through my hand all cold and tingly and suddenly I wasn't holding anything anymore.”

Jason snorts. “Bet that was a kick in the nuts, huh.”

“Come on, Little Wing,” Dick scolds half heartedly. “Be nice.”

Jason rolls his eyes.

“You said ‘at least’,” Bruce says, brow furrowed. “You suspect he has other powers too?”

Tim purses his lips. “I can't be sure, considering I couldn't see him, but…I think he probably has flight too.”

“Flight?” Dick says, furrowing his brow. He crosses his arms and shakes his head, looking both thoughtful and troubled. “No, that's not possible.”

Tim blinks. “What? Why not?”

Dick ‘Be Nice, Little Wing’ Grayson looks him dead in the eyes and says, “Because according to all known laws of aviation-”

“You-!”

The cave is filled with laughter again, Jason throwing his head back and cackling in a way that's particularly irksome. Tim reaches over and shoves at his boots while he's tipping his chair back and sends him toppling to the floor.

Jason flails and fails to save himself, rolling back to his feet and spitting curses with a hint of green to his eyes. Tim freezes at the sight of it.

It's not that he's scared. He and Jason have come a long way, and everyone knows by now what amount of green is actually dangerous. Jason's nowhere near actually losing it right now, he's just annoyed.

What makes Tim freeze is-

“He's been exposed to the Pits.”

Everyone pauses, confused. Jason blinks at him. “Uh…yeah, fucking duh?”

“No,” Tim shakes his head. “No, not you. The Engineer.”

Suddenly there's no laughter anymore. Everyone has gone tense and alarmed.

“Tim?” Bruce prompts lowly.

“I did see part of him,” Tim murmurs lowly, realizing it himself for the first time. “When I grabbed him, there were two bright lights for a second or two before they faded. God, I should have realized- it was his eyes. Like Christmas lights, bright Lazarus green."

Masterpost

[luveline]

smart, younger reader who’s like spencer and is awkward but so so lovely and then guard dog botch who’s always there and always ALWAYS so sweet to reader after absolutely biting a guys head of about getting condescending or rude !!

if u would be so kind

thank you for requesting! fem

“Exactly! High five, Dr. Reid.” 

Your hands smack as Spencer gives you a heartfelt high five. Spencer is younger than you, but besides that, Hotch might think you were twins separated at birth (very genetically different twins, but twins nonetheless). If he believed in kindred spirits, that's what you'd be. 

And it's good for him. Hotch knows there are moments where he could've been nicer to Spencer, just that being his boss makes that more difficult than it should, and with you around, you've got all the niceness solved. You're lovely. 

“I knew we'd get there,” you say. 

It's great, but there are better places for your and Spencer's diorama than the office kitchenette. 

“Guys, can we move this to a desk?” he asks. 

He should say, Can we not do this in work hours? But he doesn't. That likely says something about him… he'd rather not explore. Something he already knows. 

“It's a bit delicate for moving,” you hum, eyes on the paper attachment you've created. 

“Move it,” he says, imploring rather than stern. He hides a smile behind the lip of his mug and begins to turn away, stopped momentarily by Anderson just past the threshold. 

Anderson begins asking him about something, Hotch listens, and he pretends he isn't still listening to you and Spencer as you decide what to do with your diorama. You speak in sweet tones, encouraging to a fault, “He doesn't really mind,” you're saying, “he's just the boss. I'll hold this side and you hold that side, and– woah!” 

There's a scuffle, an explosion of paper crunching and ceramic, the sound of water spilled. 

Hotch shifts to the side to watch the aftermath. 

“Are you kidding me?” 

“I–” you say, hand clenched around a scrap of torn paper, coffee staining your shoes, “I– I–” Hotch winces as you struggle for words. “I'm so sorry.” 

“You've gotta be joking.” The man you've seemingly whacked into is an older agent. He's been around much longer than you have, probably almost as long as Hotch, and he has that jaded chagrin about him. Time constitutes knowledge, sure, but not attitude. “Why are you two always messing around in here?” 

“Sorry, Agent Giles,” you say, your hands creeping together toward your stomach defensively, “we were just moving this, and I- I'll–” 

“You're gonna make me another cup of coffee?” he asks contemptuously. 

“That's quite enough,” Hotch interrupts. “Agent L/N had no intention of bumping into you.” He stands to your side. “I'd be more than happy to make a new cup of coffee if it's an imposition for you.” His tone suggests he may not be very happy after all. 

“It's fine.” Giles turns his gaze away. 

Spencer's sprung into action, having fished the bits of your diorama and broken mug from your feet, now on his knees wiping up the puddle of coffee you've displaced. “Spence,” you say, “I'm sorry, I ruined it–” 

Hotch speaks up before Spencer can. “It was an accident.” 

You have this gutted, soft eyed look about you, embarrassed he's sure. You're a sensitive girl. You're probably more upset for Spencer than yourself, and aflame with the heat of the gaze of an entire office. He casts his head back to narrow his eyes at any nosing that's still happening before he touches your shoulder. 

“Sorry, Hotch,” you say, lifting your shoe a centimetre off of the ground. Coffee drips down the canvas of them. It squelches as you put it down. 

“It's okay.” The favouritism he works so hard to hide rears its head, unable to stand the sad quirk of your mouth. “Hey, it's okay. It was an accident. You have spare shoes and socks in your go bag, and it's,” —he lowers his voice to a fond, warm whisper— “not as though you and Spencer have anything to do that you'll actually hand in to me today. Don't let it upset you.” 

You raise your head too quickly at the sound of his teasing. Relief brightens your eyes. “You're not mad?” 

“Not at you.” 

You let that sink in. Hotch's hand drops to your elbow before leaving your sleeve altogether. 

“Reid,” he says. “Don't hurt yourself. I'll call the custodian.” 

“Please don't,” you say, turning your chest to his. So close he can smell the clean notes of your perfume. “We can do it.” 

“Alright. If you're sure,” Hotch says. He resists the urge to touch your face, though the way he looks at you isn't much better. The upset melts your face, replaced with a flustered freneticism that snaps him back into focus. He's your boss. 

He's your boss. 

“Thanks, Hotch,” you smile. 

He turns away before he's tempted into touching you again. 

[cosmicalily]

10:45pm with bang chan - a @cosmicalily timestamp

author’s note: okay hello so where was mr christopher bahng when i was stressing and studying like crazy for my exams? also first channie fic (everyone claps) highkey embarassing that it took me so long apologies to my bahngers

warnings: discussions of anxiety and stress to do with university/school

“Do you want a pudding? Minho dropped them off for us.”

You didn’t reply, body sprawled across the couch. Chris shrugged, assuming you were asleep, picking the small plastic cup up and rifling around in the drawer for a spoon.

“I’m so overwhelmed,” you said suddenly, your voice cracking. He stopped in his tracks, letting the spoon and unopened pudding clatter to the counter. He approached you, gently, resting his hand on your cheek, moving his thumb to wipe under your eye when a tear spilled over.

“Come here,” he said, putting his arms around you as you crawled onto his lap, wrapping your legs tight around his waist. He rubbed circles into your lower back, letting you shove your face into the crook of his neck and dampen his sweatshirt with your tears. “I’m sorry, sweet girl. You always have too much on your mind.”

You sobbed at his kindness, holding him tighter. “It’s just all this shit with my assignments, and then work, too. I keep covering for people but when I’m the one who’s sick, nobody covers for me. And then there’s that girl who just pulls apart every fucking thing I do.”

“That friend of a friend?” Chris raised an eyebrow. “What a bitch.”

“I know, I hate her. I hope her lash tech absolutely botches her next set, eyes swollen, no space between,” you huffed, and Chris laughed.

“That’s my girl, let it out.” he smiled, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “Is there anything else you’re still stressing about?”

You sighed. “That assignment. It’s making me nervous, even though I know I can do it. I just don’t want to.”

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Chris said honestly. “I don’t think there’s anything you’ve done to your ‘worst ability’ that anyone else could do to their best. It’s not everything, baby, I promise you.”

“It’s a sixth of my outcome-”

“Out of the other five parts that you’ve already smashed out. I’m always proud of you, you know that, and it’d make me proud to see you let yourself go a little. I’m here, you know, you can always tell me this stuff. I have the space in my mind for it if it starts to overflow from yours.”

You gave Chris a kiss on his nose, then his cheek, then his lips. “Thanks, baby.”

“It’s what I’m here for.” He hoisted you up, carrying you into the kitchen and setting you down on the counter. He stood between your legs, taking time to properly wipe your tears and press gentle kisses onto your lips. Chris tore off the foil lid of his pudding and dug his spoon in, pressing the cool metal against your mouth. You opened, smiling, letting the cool custard melt onto your tongue. It was comforting, not just the food, but sharing it with him.

He slung one arm around your waist, the other holding his spoon, taking a mouthful for himself then offering one to you. It felt good to have something substantial in your stomach; whilst Chris always made sure you ate properly when studying, you never gave yourself the time to actually enjoy the food, or to have something as a treat. Your stomach would cramp after the third coffee and the second energy drink, but now, it felt calm. 

“You’re too good to me,” you looked up at him, eyes shining.

“Nobody’s good enough to you, sweet girl,” Chris replied. “I wish I could stop everything and give you a moment to breathe. It’ll be over though, someday. I’ll make sure of it.”

“And we can live in a pretty house by the beach with a dog and make out all day?” you asked, giggling.

He smiled. “That’s the dream, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “That’s the dream,” he repeated, pulling you in close.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @velvetmoonlght @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @btch8008s @yaniluvs @ellemir2404 @bellarellasstuff - comment, dm or send an ask to be added

[pr0wlerpunk]

Would they love you as a worm?

And how would they react?

(Platonic!)

Gn!reader

Some of these are short and I’m sorry for that, wrote this at 1:am and I didn’t rlly feel like adding or fixing anything ☹️

Warnings: Slight atsv spoilers!!!, really bad British slang(someone please help), idk if the terms I used for hobie are actual British slang or not….nor do I know how to spell them if they are☹️

Earth-1610!Miles Morales- Definitely(but he Misses human you)

🕷️miles would ABSOLUTELY love you as a worm.

🕷️somehow someway you turn into a worm and miles is so protective.

🕷️I’m talkin’ like dude would keep you so safe, with a little terrarium filled with fresh soil and plants.

🕷️feel like he would also spend nights talkin’ to you and just spilling his problems out.

🕷️one time he got scared that his mom threw you out but she had just moved you…yea he almost had a heart attack

——

“Mom, where’s my little jar I had on my window?”

“Oh uhm….I honestly don’t remember where I put it..”

“…”

“Miles?”

And he’s already gone to look for you around the house.

It took him a hour but he finally found you…in a cabinet.

That night he spent singing sunflower to you

——

Earth-42!Miles Morales- Kinda(he had to think about it)

⛓️ miles would have to warm up to you.

⛓️like 1610 miles, you somehow turn into a worm.

⛓️at first he thinks it’s a joke…but as time moves on he realizes you’re a worm.

⛓️he definitely would keep you safe though.

⛓️like he would keep you fed and made sure you didn’t dry out.

⛓️but like he doesn’t do the whole talk thing.

⛓️the only time he talks to you is when he’s checking on you(like twice a day)

⛓️he definitely hides you from his uncle.

⛓️he’s not ashamed he just doesn’t want to explain how you became a worm because even he doesn’t know.

⛓️though if Aaron ever found out I think he would just stare at miles and walk away.

——

“Yo miles, cmon man we gotta do a ru-”

“…” “…”

“Miles why is there a worm on your desk?…”

“I know it looks weird!!, but somehow [___] got turned into a worm..”

“…”

“Yea… we not doin’ no run today…you can just stay here with uhm…yo worm”

“Yo! Unc, it ain’t Like that!!”

But Aaron’s already out the door

And miles is left as heat flushes his now embarrassing face

——

Hobie Brown- Doesn’t care(but yes)

🎸hobie doesnt care, Like literally it’s your life.

🎸but, he is one of them that would carry you in his pocket.

🎸like dude has a full on pocket full of damp soil just for you.(that’s how he keeps you safe)

🎸he doesn’t know how you got turned into a worm, but like I said earlier he honestly doesn’t care.

🎸if you wanna be a worm…he ain’t gonna stop you.

🎸like 1610!miles, he definitely would talk to you.

🎸like full on conversations though.

🎸like he’s asking you questions and everyone’s just staring thinking he’s finally lost his marbles.

——

“So I was tellin’ bloke-”

“Ay hobie, who’re you talking to?”

“Bruva, you’re tellin’ me you don’t see [___] right er’???”

“…no?”

“That’s botched huh luv?!”

Yea they never came back…

——

Gwen Stacy- Not at first(but she does)

🎵she actually thinks you look stupid at first.

🎵she blames however you got like this on you or miles.

🎵she definitely thought you were ugly.

🎵but then she gets to care for you and ends up loving you.

🎵not the best at protecting you but please don’t be hard on her.

🎵she gets mad when someone tries to mess with you.

🎵like it’s kinda scary.

🎵I’m talkin’ bout full on glare, eyebrows furrowed, right nostril flared and lip curved up slightly.

🎵one day she caught a spider person tapping your glass and she got pissed.

——

“Ay!, why’re tapping the glass?”

“Oh, uhm.!”

“Move. This isn’t a zoo”

“Right! S-sorry!”

“…”

“You ok [___]?”

All in all everyone knew not to mess with Gwen and her worm friend.

——

Jessica Drew- Yes(shes basically your mom now)

🤰🏾she absolutely loves you.

🤰🏾plus she thought it’d be easy practice for when she pops her baby.

🤰🏾is the type to tell someone she has a kid and then show them you

🤰🏾she’s definitely always checking on you.

🤰🏾protects you like a mom should.(kinda)

🤰🏾she cried when she lost you.

🤰🏾one day she set you down to grab a drink and when she came back you were gone.

——

“I’ll be right back [___], don’t move!”

5 minutes later…

“[___]?….[___]!??”

“E-excuse me, but has anyone seen [___]??”

“Uh, who?”

“Their a worm, and they were right here!”

She ended up finding you with Peter B and mayday

She realized this was harder than she originally thought…

——

Miguel- No(He Acts Like he hates you, but secretly would do anything for you)

🕸️dude definitely almost stepped on you once or twice.

🕸️Bros the Type of Person to yell at you After he almost stepped on you.

🕸️but like once he warms up to you he’s definitely carrying you everywhere.

🕸️Like Bro wouldn’t trust you😭.

🕸️or for that matter anyone.

🕸️Like one time, he let Peter B watch You And when he came back mayday was about to eat you.

——

“I got it dude”

“Are You sure You can Watch [___]?”

“Yes now go..literally you’re ruining the mood right now”

10 Minutes later…

“I’m back-”

“PETER!?”

“What!, What!?”

“Your child almost ate [___]…”

“…”

“I’m sorry?”

“…Hijo de puta…”

“Yea i deserve that…”

——

Pav- Yes(He wants to keep you forever..)

🪀Bro thinks you’re the cutest thing hes ever Seen

🪀he definitely calls you his little wormy

🪀he would keep you safe in a while mini House

🪀Like Bro made it And Everything

🪀he doesn’t want you to Turm Back Human

🪀Like…Ever 💀

🪀he definitely Rants to you about EVERYTHING

🪀he told you how miles called Chai, “chai tea”

——

“So im sitting there right And he just Says….Chai tea…”

“LIKE CMON MAN”

“PAV WHO ARE YOU TALKIN TO??!”

“NO ONE MAMA!”

His mom thinks he has an imaginary friend now….

Tags: @alisblackgf

[moonstruckme]

hey mae this is purely self indulgent (bc i think i just got the worst haircut of my life) but would you write a drabble where steve comforts reader who got a bad haircut? totally understand if this isn’t something you’d write but thank u either way <33

Oh no! I'm sorry lovely, I hope it wasn't as bad as you originally thought and either way, it'll grow back <3

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 578 words

“You can’t wear that all the time.” 

“Says who?” 

“Says Indiana.” Steve sets a hand on top of your hat. Your own flies up to cover it, worried he’s going to take your hat off, but he doesn’t. “It’s seventy degrees out, and it’s gonna be for weeks. You’re gonna melt in there.” 

“Good thing your place has air conditioning.” Steve gives you a look, but you’re not about to admit that even in his cool basement your scalp is starting to itch from the heat. You sigh. “It’s fine. It’s worth it to me.” 

“Let me see.” 

You clamp your hand harder on top of your head. “No.” 

“Come on,” Steve laughs. “I’m picturing the worst thing I can imagine, and it’s only bringing you down from a ten to an eight. It can’t be that bad.” 

“I don’t appreciate you evaluating me in numerical terms.” 

“Are you really telling me that if I dropped below a nine we’d still be dating?” 

You know he’s joking, but you give him a hard look anyway. Steve smiles with one side of his mouth. 

“Come on,” he says again, gentler now. His fingers curl in the material of your hat. Your face heats, but you allow him to ease it off your head, smoothing down self-consciously the hair beneath. 

Steve looks at you for a second. His expression is frustratingly difficult to read, not horrified or happy but not necessarily anything in between, either. He just looks thoughtful. 

“I don’t get why you were so nervous,” he says finally. 

“Steve,” you plead, “don’t lie to me.” 

“No, honest. I mean, it’s not your best look—” 

“I know that!” 

“—but it’s not as bad as you were acting like it was. You’re not, like, hideous.” 

“Oh, thank you.” You cover your face with your hands, anxious laughter bubbling to the surface. “I’m glad to be not hideous.” 

“Shut up.” Steve bumps his knee into yours. His hands wrap around your wrists, not pulling but there. “That’s not what I meant. You just acted like I was going to think you weren’t pretty, and I mean, that didn’t seem super possible to me, but you were so nervous you almost convinced me. But you’re still pretty. I think I was right, nothing can change that.” 

When you don’t reply, he laughs, giving your wrists a little shake. “I’m serious. I mean, I’m not just dating you for your looks, I’m not that shallow, but you’d be hot even if you were bald. It doesn’t matter.” 

You peek at him. “You think I should go bald?” 

“If you want to,” Steve says easily. “It could be cool. Don’t tell Robin unless you’re sure, though. She’d love to shave your head. She’s been trying to get me to do a buzz cut every summer since I met her.” 

“I don’t think you should shave your head,” you say meekly. 

“Yeah, me neither. But would you still like me if I did?” 

You nod. Steve grins, pulling you towards him for a kiss. “There you go, then. It doesn’t change anything.” 

Your face still feels hot, but now it’s a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure, Steve’s eyes on you unmistakably adoring despite your botched haircut. 

He picks up your hat. “Let’s get rid of this, ‘kay?” Tosses it into a corner. “I mean, I like you with the hat, too, but I like you the most when you’re not…”

You smile. “Sweaty?” 

“Boiling yourself.”

[ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult]

Unpredictable-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: I was inspired a lot by the Bama Rush documentary and couldn't get the idea of a sorority girl in GOD U out of my head. Let me know if you want a part 2.

Warnings: some swearing

Words: 5.2k

Series Masterlist

Future probability cognition, the ability to see potential future outcomes, was usually a nice power to have. At 7, I knew my parents were going to get divorced before either of them considered filing. At 9, I knew my mother would focus all her energy on the agency. At 12, I knew that my older brother would take a head of surgery job in Buenos Aires, escaping the chaos at home. Despite this history, nothing could have prepared me for my second year at Godolkin.

The first day back on campus was uneventful: I survived a grueling early morning Pilates class that I envisioned would put me in Sydney’s, the Si Chi president, good graces and, later in the afternoon, I settled an argument between two Si Chi juniors by predicting that brunch would be the most successful rush event.

Being (one of) the first black high-ranking members of Si Chi could be a full-time job.

As I was re-reading the chapters for Brink’s class, my V-Phone buzzed with a text from Leah, one of the seniors in the sorority.

L: Do you know Emma?

I quickly typed back: Which one? Wallace or the girl who got the botched nj in SK?

L: Neither. Short girl with curly blonde hair. She’s here 4 u.

The yelp that left my mouth would have been embarrassing if anyone else was in the house study room. Quickly, I tucked my book under my arm and ran into the ivory and wood-paneled foyer complete with Tiffany crystal chandelier and faint instrumental piano music playing through the Bluetooth speakers. At the door, Leah’s arms were crossed over her lavender babydoll dress as she smiled fakely at Emma, who looked more apprehensive than usual.

“Emma, hi, I thought I told you to text me when you got here!” I greeted as I approached the two.

Emma’s expression relaxed when her blue eyes landed on me. “Sorry, I got distracted and then I got lost trying to find you.”

I glanced at Leah, who shot me a questioning look. “Thanks, Leah, I can take it from here.”

Leah shrugged, turned, and teleported into thin air. Emma’s eyes widened again as she stepped further into the house and I closed the door behind her.

“Sorry about Leah; she’s cagier than usual because she couldn’t get a refill on her favorites,” I explained.

“It’s fine, I’m just glad you aren’t like that,” Emma admitted.

I paused to finally hug her and she nearly crushed me as she wound her arms around my middle. It felt like forever since I had seen Emma, even though it was at my dad’s annual 4th of July barbecue. When I pulled away, Emma eyed the book in my hand.

“You’re reading before school starts. Nerd,” she teased.

   I playfully pushed her shoulder. “We’re in college, we have to take school way more seriously now. Besides, a requirement for Si Chi is at least a 3.8.”

   Emma tapped her chin. “Let me guess, you have a 4.0.”

  I smiled and tugged her further into the house. Of course, I had to give her a tour of the house and introduce her to the girls we passed. When we finally got to my room, Emma collapsed on top of my pastel blue comforter, dropping her bag on the matching rug.

  “I know Si Chi is a top house, but you basically live in Barbie’s Dream House,” Emma beamed. “How do I get in? What do I have to do? I will do literally anything or anyone.”

   I rolled my eyes and set my book on my desk. “I’m glad you like the place but, you haven’t even met your roommate yet. What’s her name again?”

  Emma pushed herself up on her elbows with a huff. “Marie Moreau. I tried to find her on social media, but she doesn’t have any: No X, no TikTok, not even an obligatory Facebook.”

  Social media presence was basically a requirement at GOD U these days so it was a bold move for someone to show up without any. It could mean Marie was hardcore about her studies or…

  “She might have strict parents,” I pointed out, sitting next to Emma.

  Emma raised an eyebrow. “They better not be weird, cult-y parents. I guess that would be my luck too: have a psycho roommate my freshman year.”

   “Hey, no one could have had it worse than me: a slob who always had boys over and threatened to gut me in my sleep,” I argued.

   “But, you saw all of that coming,” Emma argued.

   I shook my head. “Only the part where she stood over my bed with a knife in hand.” I sighed and pressed my hands into the covers. “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that ever again.”

   “Really, because some of these girls are giving unhinged,” Emma replied.

   “The nice thing is I either pick up on the signs or ‘see’ their breaking point,” I explained.

   Emma nodded and pushed herself off my bed to start exploring my room. As she started messing with my checkered Moschino teddy bear figurine, my phone buzzed on my desk. When I grabbed it, I saw it was a video call from Cate.

   “Hi, what’s up?” I greeted, holding the phone at the most flattering angle.

   “I’m trying to entertain myself while Luke preps for training,” Cate admitted.

   “What, you’re not totally entertained by your star boyfriend?” I teased.

   Cate rolled her eyes. “No, I can’t wait for this to be over. You’re coming, right?”

   I shook my head. “Sorry, we have a rush event at the same time, including a choreographed dance.”

  “Ooh, did you choreograph it?” Cate asked.

  “I might have helped a little.”

  “Well, I’m pissed I’ll miss it but make sure to have someone send me all the cute videos and pictures,” Cate requested.

  “Sure.”

  There was some yelling in the background and Cate rolled her eyes.

  “I have to go but we’ll talk later.”

  “Bye!”

  When I hung up, Emma was staring at me with her mouth gaping, the teddy figurine dangerously close to slipping from her grasp and onto the hardwood floor. I crossed the room as quickly as I could and carefully placed the figurine back on my dresser.

  “Emma, I love you but if you break anything, I will lose it,” I warned.

  “You know Cate Dunlap?” Emma asked slowly.

  “Oh, yeah, she’s my peer mentor. Dean Shetty paired us up last year since our powers are similar,” I answered.

  “So, you’ve met Luke Riordan? Like, you’ve been in his presence?”

  “Yes,” I answered slowly.

  “And you didn’t faint or throw up from his glory?”

   “Emma, he’s a regular person. His powers are insane but he is also human, just like us.”

  “No, I’m a regular person. Luke Riordan is, like, a demigod or something. Is he better looking in person?”

   I hesitated and busied myself with grabbing my rush outfit from my closet and setting it on my bed. Then, I stared at my shoes, feeling Emma’s eyes bored into the back of my head. I closed my eyes and focused on the event tonight, the potential sounds and people. Seconds later, I got a decent image of my Si Chi sisters and I dancing in front of the house, surrounded by freshmen girls in Princess Polly and House of CB. I focused all my energy on looking at our feet and tried not to groan when I saw red high-top Converse.

   “Every time,” I muttered as I opened my eyes.

   Two more years, just two more years of going along and I would reap the benefits: a strong ranking, a decent contract, and my pick of the most eligible supes. I just had to keep playing the game.

   I grabbed my platform red Converses and set them in front of my bed, sheepishly turning to Emma. “Yes, Emma.”

     She squealed. “I knew it!”

     I laughed at her joy as she bounced in her Vans. “Go to the training today and see for yourself.”

   Emma’s expression deflated slightly as she walked closer to me. “I wish you could come, you could introduce us!”

   “There will be a next time,” I stated.

   “Promise?” She held up her pinky and eyed me as I slowly wrapped my manicured one around hers. She opened her mouth but was cut off by an alarm going off on her phone. “Shit, I have to go film a video!”

   “You’re still doing Little Cricket?” I asked.

   Emma shushed me loudly and her eyes filled with panic. “Not so loud and definitely not in this house!”

  The girls probably already know all about it, I thought.

  I flipped my waist-length box braids over my shoulder and laughed as she rushed towards the door. “You don’t know where you’re going, let me walk you out!”

  She paused for a split second and gave me some time to catch up to her. However, I led her through the quickest route back to the front door and she gave me a quick hug before she took off. I laughed as I closed the door behind her.

  “Some things never change,” I mused.

   When I got back up to my room, I realized she left her backpack and groaned. She would have to learn to be more responsible if she was going to survive more than a week here. So, I grabbed my purse and her backpack before traipsing the campus. Fortunately, Emma had texted me her dorm information before she got on campus.

   “In case of an emergency,” she’d insisted.

    The freshman dorms were not as bad as I remembered them but I cringed at a few musty speedster jocks I crossed in the hallway. A brief premonition helped me duck to avoid an ice user’s power going out of control when I finally made it to Emma’s door. First, I rapped on the door three times.

    “Emma, it’s me, you really have to keep a better eye on your stuff!” I called.

     After a few seconds of no answer, I knocked again.

     “Seriously? I can’t always be looking after you,” I teased.

     Finally, the door swung open, revealing a pretty black girl with big brown eyes and long brown dreads that were pulled partly away from her face. Her eyes widened at me and I smiled.

     “Sorry, I’m looking for Emma, she left her bag in my----”

     Emma cut me off, appearing next to the girl, “I was wondering where that went, thanks!” She grabbed the bag from me.

    “Oh, uh, come in,” the girl said, stepping aside.

    I nodded and wandered further into their dorm. It was small, like most freshman dorms, but Emma’s side offered pops of color and coziness. The other side was more basic, probably because the girl just moved in.

   “Marie, this is Y/N, my best friend, Y/N, Marie,” Emma introduced as she plopped onto her bed.

    I turned to Marie and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

   She hesitated slightly before shaking my hand. “You too.”

  “Don’t worry, Marie, you’ll get used to her hotness,” Emma advised.

   My cheeks warmed as I whirled around to my friend. “Emma!”

   “It’s true!”

   The embarrassment floated in the pit of my stomach as I faced Marie, who looked somewhere between surprised and amused. “Sorry about her, she speaks without thinking.”

   “It’s okay. How do you two know each other?” Marie asked.

   “Her mom represents me,” Emma answered.

   “Oh.”

   “She’s the one who helped encourage me to make a YouTube channel and is helping me get into more commercials until my big break,” Emma continued.

   I sighed as I sat in Emma’s desk chair. “We’ve known each other since I was four and she was three.”

  “Do you want to be an actor too?” Marie asked.

   I shook my head. “I tried it when I was little but it wasn’t for me.”

   Emma’s eyes lit up and she sat up on her bed. “You should have seen her, she was so cute! She was that toddler in that one diaper commercial----”

   “Emma,” I softly begged.

    Marie laughed. “Now, I’m curious.”

    “Please don’t look it up, it’s not worth it anyway,” I insisted.

    Marie shrugged and sat on her bed. “My curiosity might get the best of me.”

    “Why did you have to mention that stupid commercial?” I whined at Emma, who laughed at my pain. “Anyway, what’s your major?”

     “Crimefighting,” Marie answered.

     I straightened up. “Me too.”

    “So, you’ve had classes with Brink? How is he? What’s he like?” Marie rambled.

    “Well, he’s really tough on first years and makes his tests almost impossible to pass,” I admitted.

     “Really?” Marie asked.

     “But, I can help you if you want; I did pretty well last year,” I offered.

     As soon as the words left my mouth, I questioned where they came from. Marie was a complete stranger, yet she was one of the easiest people to talk to. Normally, I stumbled over my words in front of new people, and this was…new.

    “That would be great, thanks,” Marie replied.

     Emma leaned forward. “Y/N, you are way too modest. She was in the top ten of the first years last year and she has a peer mentor and meets with Brink on a regular basis.”

     Marie snapped her attention to me. “Wait, what?”

     I shook my head. “She makes it sound more impressive than it is.”

    “No, I’m not; she hangs out with the Top Five all the time.”

    “Top Five?” Marie asked.

     Emma and I turned to her, stunned.

     “You don’t know what the Top Five are?” Emma asked slowly.

     Marie shook her head, growing tenser the longer we looked at her.

    “Godolkin ranks all the students based on their Q score, which is basically the strength of their powers, academics, and social media engagement. The Top One Hundred are the only ones published every day,” I explained.

   “And the Top Five are the only ones everyone really cares about since they’re the ones most likely to make it into the Seven,” Emma added. “It’s on the GOD U app.”

    “I don’t have a phone,” Marie admitted.

     Emma balked at her. “How have you gone this far in life without a phone?”

     Marie shrugged. “My parents wouldn’t let me have one.”

     “What about emergencies?” I asked.

     “Someone else always has one,” Marie countered.

     Something was off about her statement and I knew that if I focused on it long enough, I would get a premonition about her. However, I decided that it would be rude to do that in conversation and tabled it for later.

    “You’ll get through it,” I said.

    “So, what ranking are you, Y/N?” Marie asked.

    “Last I checked, I was number twenty,” I recalled.

     Marie and Emma’s eyes widened at me, and I shrunk a little under their gaze. It really was not that impressive considering how intense the nineteen other people above me were.

    “That’s amazing!” Emma cheered, leaping off her bed and hugging me.

    “How did that happen?” Marie asked gently.

     When Emma pulled away, I replied, “Well, right before summer break, I had a premonition about a case Brink had the class working on all year.”

    “You solved a crime?” Marie concluded.

     “I just helped with a tip,” I insisted.

    “Please, Y/N, don’t act like you haven’t solved cases before,” Emma stated.

     I narrowed my eyes at her and Emma smirked in reply. Marie held up her hands and shook her head.

    “Wait, as in plural?”

     “It’s really not a big deal. With all the forensics, psychology, and ethics classes you’ll take, you’ll be solving them too.”

      Marie looked unconvinced but did not push it. “So, what’s your ability? I’m sorry if that’s rude to ask.”

     “No, it’s fine. Future probability cognition, I can see potential outcomes for the future,” I explained.

     “That’s amazing,” Marie complimented.

      “Eh, a lot of times it means I get blurry images in my head but it’s helpful sometimes. What about you?”

      “Blood manipulation.”

       “Whoa, no offense, but that is such a supervillain power,” Emma thought outloud.

        “Emma!”

         “I said ‘no offense’!”

        Marie laughed. “It’s okay, I get why people would think that.”

       “Can you give us a demonstration?” Emma asked.

        Marie nodded and grabbed a switchblade from her cargo pants’ pocket. In a graceful motion, she cut one of her palms and held it out in front of her. Seconds later, a circle of blood floated in the air like water, swirling each way. Marie smiled at our expressions and the blood slowly flowed back in her palm and the mark healed.

       “That was awesome!” Emma cheered.

       “I think Brink will like you,” I added.

      “Thanks. I think it’s your turn, Y/N,” Marie said.

       I hesitated. “Well, mine is definitely not as impressive as yours and I can’t promise I’ll see anything…positive.”

     “That’s okay,” Marie insisted.

     “You can use me as a demonstration,” Emma offered.

     I turned to her and closed my eyes. My mind wandered to images of her face and the sound of her laugh. Eventually, I saw an image of her rolling around her dorm bed with some guy. Then, all of a sudden, she was small and---     “AAAH!” I jumped from my seat, both underclassmen looking at me confused.

     “Is it that bad?” Emma asked.

     My eyes looked everywhere but my best friend and my hands unconsciously flexed. “Whatever you do, do not bring a guy here in the future.”

   “You don’t want me to get laid?”

   “I don’t think you would want to experience what I just saw.” I shivered at the thought.

    “Have your powers made you respond like that before?” Marie asked.

     I nodded. “It’s rare, though, and I have help to get a handle on it.”

     Slowly, I sat down and focused on the orange circle rug on the floor. Suddenly, I wished Cate was there to wipe that premonition from my memory. My stomach churned and I swallowed thickly.

     “Oh, Marie, you have to come to the training with me today,” Emma announced.

      “What training?”

     “The Top Five have public training at the beginning of every year. This year, Luke Riordan is up first,” Emma explained with a grin.

       “Luke’s a big deal?” Marie asked.

       “Hell yeah, he’s number one!” Emma chastised.

        Marie turned to me. “Are you going?”

        I looked up at her and wondered if she seemed kind of hopeful. “No, I have to do rush tonight.”

      “On top of everything else, she is also the secretary of Si Chi, the top sorority on campus,” Emma bragged.

      “Wow, are you always this busy?” Marie asked.

     “Not always. Things calm down once rush is over.” My phone beeped in my bag and I grabbed it. “Speaking of which, I have to run and get ready.”

      “But you already look nice,” Marie commented.

      “Thanks, but I need to be up to Si Chi standards. Have fun at the training and Emma, please try not to act up too much.”

      “I can’t control what will happen once his clothes burn off.”

       “What?”        I shook my head. “I’ll see you around.”

    The next day, I was shocked awake by a series of texts from Emma.

          E: Emergency, pls come 2 my dorm.

         E: Srsly, Marie needs ur help.

    Immediately, I wondered my Marie would need my help. When I reached out to Emma last night, she was busy gushing over Luke and never mentioned any issues. Also, I didn’t see any posts about her on social media which calmed my nerves.

    After texting her I would be there soon, I slowly pushed myself to sit up in my head and pushed my silk sleep mask up over my scarf. Then, I meditated for a few minutes, breathing through all the chaotic thoughts and scenarios that included strangers and people that I knew. Just when my temples began to throb, I stopped and made my way into the en-suite bathroom.

   About thirty minutes later, Emma shoved her dorm room open and pulled me in. She was wearing a gray GOD U t shirt and matching shorts, her curly stuck up in random places.

   “Where the hell have you been?” she whispered.

   “I got here as soon as I could,” I defended. “What’s going on?”

    Marie stood from her desk, a deep frown on her face, and made her way towards us. “I’m not in any Crimefighting classes; it’s all performing arts!”

    I cocked my head to the side. “That’s weird. Can I see your schedule?”

   “It’s on my phone.” Emma handed it to me and I started scrolling through Marie’s schedule.

   “Did you register for any performing arts classes?” I asked.

   “No, I registered for all the first-year Crimefighting classes,” Marie insisted.

   The frustration was thick in her voice and I wondered what was keeping her from punching a hole in the wall.

   “Is there anything I can do?” Marie asked.

   “Sorry, I don’t know. I’ve never heard of this happening.” I paused for a moment and smiled. “But I might be able to help. I have a meeting with Brink today and if you come with me, I could introduce you and we could get this all figured out.”

   “Really? Do you know how it will go?”

   “Let me try.”

   I closed my eyes and focused on Brink, the Crimefighting building, and Marie. The images were as blurry as a Monet up close and all the audio was muffled as if everyone was speaking underwater. When I opened my eyes, I shook my head at Marie.

   “Looks like it’s up to fate,” I commented.

   Marie deflated and I did not know whether to comfort her or not.

   “I’m sending good vibes your way,” Emma offered.

   “Thanks, we’ll need it,” Marie replied.

    As much as I wanted to push back, I did not like not knowing how this would turn out. My heart drummed in my ears later that day as we walked to the Lamplighter building. At the very least, the sun was beaming on everything, making Godolkin look shinier than usual. It was the perfect day for the white cherry-printed sundress and denim jacket I wore with platform white sandals. My braids flowed freely around me under the cool breeze.

   When we walked into the building, I let out the breath I did not know I was holding in.

   “You okay?” Marie asked.

   “Yeah, why?” I replied.

   “Your heart rate picked up,” she observed.

    I paused and looked at her. “You can hear my heartbeat?”

   She nodded. “Sorry, I know that’s kind of weird.”    “Nothing’s weird at this school but, that’s good to know,” I assured.

   I made a mental note to be more intentional in meditation as I led Marie to Brink’s office. The Lamplighter building was practically empty since most students were sleeping off hangovers. However, Jordan Li wasn’t most students and was at their usual post, the desk outside of Brink’s office, eyes focused on their laptop. They were in their feminine form, hair slicked back in a low ponytail.

   A small smile etched its way on my glossed lips at the sight and I turned to Marie, whose eyes widened at Jordan.

  “Let me do the talking,” I whispered.

  “Sounds good,” she answered, nodding.

  As soon as we got in front of Jordan’s desk, I waved my hand in front of their face to no avail. With no choice, I grinned as I slammed my hands on the desk and called their name. Immediately, Jordan jumped in their seat, yanking their earbuds out as they exclaimed an expletive.

    I laughed as they rolled their eyes at me.

   “Seriously, freshie?” Jordan commented.

   “You can’t call me that anymore, I’m a sophomore,” I sang.

   “It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Jordan teased.

    My cheeks warmed at their words and I gripped my Longchamp tote closer to me in an attempt to get a grip on myself.

   “By the way, I loved your little dance from last night,” Jordan added.

   “You saw that?” I rasped.

   “Rushtok is so big that no one can escape it.” Jordan glanced at their laptop. “You’re early, as usual.”

   “I like to be punctual but, I also have someone who might be your new favorite freshman,” I replied.

    “Impossible,” Jordan scoffed.

     I nodded to Marie, who slowly moved to stand next to me. “This is Marie Moreau. Marie, this is Jordan Li, Brink’s TA.”

    Jordan glanced at Marie, a smirk disappearing from their face. “Hi.”

    “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. You’re so awesome; your powers are incredible,” Marie confessed.

    Jordan smirked. “I’m glad I impressed a freshman.”

    Marie looked taken aback and glanced at me.

   “I brought Marie with me since there’s been a mix-up. She applied for Crimefighting but she’s in all the performing arts classes. So, I was thinking that you’d be able to help,” I explained.

    Jordan looked back at their laptop and started typing again. “I know, I’m the one who rejected her.”

   Their words hung in the air and I could feel a lump starting to form in my throat. As smart as Jordan was, they were either unaware of how deeply their bluntness could cut or they did not care. After knowing them for a year, I began to lean toward the latter.

   “What?” Marie muttered.

   “Why?” I questioned.

   “She has no social media presence and, even though her scores are decent, she needs a following,” Jordan rattled.

   “Isn’t that a little biased? Do you know what her powers are? If you knew, I think you would be open to making an exception,” I argued gently. “Besides, she can still get a following online. With her face, it will take no time.”

    As soon as the comment left my mouth, I froze. I had no idea why I said that, maybe Emma’s tendencies had rubbed off on me.

    “Sorry, the decision’s final.” Jordan did not sound apologetic at all and I thought I saw them trying not to smirk again.

   “You can’t do that. Let me talk to Professor Brink,” Marie requested.

  “There’s no point, he leaves all admission decisions to me,” Jordan said. “You should learn from your friend. Y/N here has ten million followers across her social media and solved the Glasgow Ripper case and a twenty-year-old cold case before she got here.”

   Marie whirled around to me. “You solved the Glasgow Ripper case?”

   “I just gave them a tip and it was supposed to be anonymous,” I muttered.

    “Nothing is anonymous with Vought,” Jordan countered. “Plus, you led them to key evidence.”

    “They would have solved it…eventually,” I admitted.

   Based on my original estimate, it would have taken them three years and I always felt horrible whenever they showed the victims’ families on the news. The tension in the space was thick as Jordan and Marie glared at each other. I wracked my brain for something, anything to say.

   Fortunately, Brink took care of the tension when he burst out of his office, gun in hand, and shot at Jordan. Marie yelped as Jordan switched to their male form and absorbed the shot.

   “Wow, every time,” Brink admired.

   “If you keep it up, I’m going to run out of shirts, sir,” Jordan replied, smiling.

    Brink turned to Marie and me. “Oh, Y/N, you’re here, early as always.”

    “Hi, Professor Brink. How was your summer?” I asked.

    “Busy. And yours?”

    “Good. Um, Professor, I don’t want to take too much of your time, but this is Marie Moreau and there was a mix-up with her schedule,” I started.

    Professor Brink nodded and turned to Marie. “Is that so?”

    Marie quickly explained the dilemma, narrowing her eyes at Jordan but was able to stay as calm and professional as possible. I glanced at Professor Brink’s expression and while he looked pleasant, I dreaded his words.

   “Well, if Jordan rejected you, that’s final. I trust their judgment,” Professor Brink affirmed. “You can serve as a hero in many ways; Crimefighting is a select group of students who show high aptitude in several areas. That does not mean anyone else is less valuable. Maybe we will see you on Dancing with the Stars one day.”

   Marie’s face fell and her body tensed. I might have started crying if I was in her position but her eyes stayed dry. I gently put my hand on her shoulder.

   “We’ll figure something out,” I muttered.

   She did not look convinced and as I politely followed Brink into his office, I prayed that I would get some sort of helpful premonition. Then again, why did I want to help this girl? I knew her for less than twenty-four hours. Nothing was making sense.

    Later that day, I practically ran a hole into my bedroom floor as I ruminated over my next steps. My meeting with Brink was unremarkable and I couldn’t stop thinking about how to get Marie into crim. She was obviously a strong hero in the works, even if Jordan didn’t see it. One way to help would be to get her into a decent house on campus since that was one of the only viable routes outside of making it into the Top 100 to get noticed on campus. However, Marie did not strike me as the sorority type.

    Then again, I could help her with donors at fundraisers since they loved throwing their money to make themselves feel better. As I thought, my mind somehow circled back to Jordan. It was fun getting a rise out of them after everything last year. They were not as rude to me as they were to Marie, but they were still terrifying last year. They always had a critique for someone and had reduced numerous kids to tears before the first semester ended. Somehow, I impressed them last year and they started being nicer to me. It probably also did not hurt that I had befriended Cate.

    “Ugh, it’s hopeless!” I huffed, plopping onto my bed.

    Even when I tried to get premonitions, there was nothing helpful; just Jordan and Marie arguing while I attempted to settle things.

    What was this year turning into?

      My phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts, and I answered without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

    “Do you have any rush shit tonight?” Cate asked.

    I sat up and eyed her in the video call. “No, all the presidents and VPs are meeting tonight so we’re on our own.”

   “Great, so you’re free to go out with us,” Cate concluded with a grin.

  My heartbeat picked up at the thought of going out with Cate and the others. Any time I went out with them always ended in an interesting story, from the time Cate got us all out of a really embarrassing ticket to the time Andre and Luke drunkenly dueted “Never Gonna Give You Up” in a Korean karaoke bar.

  “I know that face, you’re thinking too much,” Cate warned.

  “Not in a bad way, in a good way. Where are we going?”

  “Don’t worry, just wear something hot and meet us in the parking lot at ten.”

  “Okay.”

  I hung up and set the phone on my dresser. Maybe this would help me clear my head or get me out of my head. Sometimes the thoughts could be suffocating but I would get a break tonight. I closed my eyes and wondered what would happen tonight. Slowly, clear images of a dark club and the sound of a thumping bass flooded my mind. The club was crowded but I saw myself dancing with Cate and…Marie?

[everybodyshusband]

Husbanddddd, can we get your thoughts on when Dew discovered how sensitive his gills are :))

anon if i give you some alpha/dew gill smut do you promise not to tell everyone how old this ask is ? it's been six months and i am INCREDIBLY sorry

exactly what it says on the tin, it's (ftm) water dew gill smut !!! the semi-virginity kink crept up on me without warning, you can blame dew for that one sdkfjnsd

divider by @wrathofrats !!

"Mmm, fuuuck yes. Right there, shiiiit."

Alpha chuckles lowly from his position behind the new water ghoul. "Easy there, water lily. These walls are thin, people will get the wrong idea..."

"Satan, if your dick game turns out to be even half as good as your massage game then I don't know what the hell I'm going to do," Dew jokes, leaning further back into the fire ghoul's touch. "How are you so good at this?"

Alpha lifts up a hand off of Dew's shoulder—much to the water ghoul's chagrin—and wiggles his fingers in front of Dewdrop's eyes. "Heated fingers," he sing-songs, thankfully settling his hand back on Dew's shoulder once more, resuming the gentle massage.

The water ghoul moans, properly this time, as Alpha's hands dig into a particularly sore spot at the base of his neck. The warm pressure against his aching muscles is blissful enough that Dew doesn't even care that Alpha is laughing at him again. He can only focus on the deliciously precise nature of the fire ghoul's fingers.

"Sure you're not a massage ghoul?" Dew teases, if only to hear the rant he knows Alpha is about to hit him with.

"This again? Sathanas, you're as bad as 'Meg used to be," he chastises teasingly. "Is that a book ghoul? Is that a pumpkin pie ghoul?" He mimics, opting to impersonate Omega with a falsetto that Dew is sure the quintessence ghoul would be thrilled by. "No, dumbass, it's Brother Copia eating a bit of pie leftover from Halloween, still dressed up as a ghoul because he didn't want to take the costume off. Should've been obvious, he completely botched the skin tone shade. Idiot."

Dewdrop tilts his head back and laughs, loudly and openly. He knows the siblings are scared of the fire ghoul—he doesn't blame them, he was too when he was first summoned—but fucking hell, if Alpha isn't one of the dorkiest people Dew's ever met. Their eyes meet and the fire ghoul leans down to press a kiss to the top of Dew's head before promptly pushing his head back forward and accusing him of interrupting the massage by trying to seduce the him.

"So what if I am?" Dew teases, swallowing back a sinful groan as the fire ghoul works at another knot in his shoulder. He knows that was on purpose.

"Just... Shut up and let me help you, water lily," Alpha smiles.

Dew huffs out an over-exaggerated sigh and settles back against the fire ghoul properly. "Alright, alright. You do your thing, I'll be good. Promise." He extends his pinky back behind him, sighing gently as he feels Alpha's warm hand envelope his.

Instead of placing the hand back on Dewdrop's shoulder however, Alpha elects to place it up against his neck, thumb brushing along the sot slits of his gills. Dew exhales shakily at that, although he's not entirely sure why. The warmth of Alpha's hands against his gills is nice but it's not... Well, it's not enough to have him attempting to squeeze his thighs together with some degree of subtlety. Or at least, it shouldn't be enough, and yet somehow, it is. Dew doesn't understand it. Each new wave of arousal coincides with a brush of Alpha's fingers against his gills and while unexpected and much more sudden than he's become accustomed to, he can't find himself to be upset about it. If anything, he's intrigued. There's so much of this new body left to explore, so many new triggers to find and fuck, if they're all as good as then then Dewdrop can't even think about waiting a second longer.

Predictably though, he's drawn out of his thoughts by the concerned voice of the fire ghoul sitting behind him. "Dewy? You feeling okay?"

There are too many ways to answer that question. Dewdrop settles with the one requiring the least words—he's not entirely sure he can trust his voice not to shake embarrassingly the second he opens his mouth—and with much regret, lifts one of Alpha's hands away from his fluttering gills. The regret is soon quelled however, as he guides the fire ghoul's hand down, down, down to the front of his sleep shorts, encouraging Alpha to feel the effect he's had on him. He lets out a quiet groan as Alpha circles two fingers over his swollen clit through the fabric and he doesn't need to look behind him to know that the fire ghoul is grinning.

"'S weird," he starts, pointedly ignoring how his words have already started slurring from the pleasure of it all. He's barely even been touched. "Dunno why it's happening like this."

"Your gills," Alpha explains, leaning his head closer so that his hot breath fans against them. The sensation travels straight to Dew's cunt and he shudders, holding in a whine. "You've never had 'em played with before?"

Dew shakes his head. "Mist offered once but I wasn't in the mood," he explains, feeling entirely out of his depth. Logically it makes sense that Alpha knows about what's going on even if Dewdrop doesn't. The fire ghoul has been in this pack for years and has lived, worked and bonded with many a water ghoul in his time Topside. Still, the metaphorical blind over Dew's eyes is making his head spin. Sex up here is so much stranger than in the Pit. There are rules, arousal triggers, feelings. It's not a bad kind of strange, it's just... different, and the fact that he knows nothing and Alpha knows everything is making him throb. He doesn't wholly understand that part either, but he's not complaining.

"Are you in the mood now?" And, oh, Alpha's voice sounds so different like this. Husky, rough and hungry in a way that Dewdrop has never heard it before. He likes it.

He nods. "Help me?"

Before the words are fully out of his mouth, Alpha pounces. His fingers—still unnaturally warm in a way that's more than welcome—slip under Dew's shorts and start rubbing. At the same time, his mouth latches onto the side of Dew's throat, licking and sucking the delicate flesh of his gills.

Dew makes it two whole seconds without making a sound. In those two seconds, Alpha manages to both get a finger inside of the water ghoul as well as lathe his tongue on, around and inside of his gills. Dewdrop screams, a harsh, guttural thing that's wrenched out of him with no warning. He pants harshly and writhes around in the sheets as much as their position will let him—not much, given that Alpha's free arm is holding him firmly against his torso and the occupied arm is still more than strong enough to hold him down despite the forearm strength it's currently exhibiting.

"Ffuck, I– Haahh, Al–" Dew knows his words are incomprehensible, but that doesn't stop him from trying. Alpha knows what he means anyway, if the chuckles that seem to vibrate along the entire length of Dew's body are anything to go by. "More, fuck. Please, more," Dew pleads breathlessly, every other word interrupted by groan or whine.

Alpha obliges him, sucking harder around the gills in his mouth and sliding another finger inside along the one already pumping harshly inside of the water ghoul.

"You gonna cum soon, water lily?" Alpha mumbles against his gills, sounding almost as out of breath as Dew feels.

Dew can't do anything by moan in response, vocalisations reaching a fever pitch and desperately cresting over as the fire ghoul curls his fingers just so inside him.

"I'm gonna– You're making me– Oh, fuck!" Dew cries, desperately rutting his hips up against Alpha's fingers as he moans and shakes through his orgasm.

He pants shakily as he comes down from it, Alpha's—clean—hand gently stroking up and down his side. "You alright?"

Dew nods, smiles. "More than alright," he assures the fire ghoul. "But you didn't–"

"It's alright," Alpha cuts him off. "I don't have to, that was about you."

"Bullshit," Dew scoffs.

Alpha huffs dramatically, hot breath ruffling Dew's hair. "Fine," he concedes. "I came in my pants like a goddamn fucking teenager. Happy?"

Dew grins and shuffles himself further back against the fire ghoul, unable to hold his chuckle as he feels a wet patch gently wicking onto the back of his t-shirt. "Very," he says.

"Mmm, thought you would be," Alpha grimaces, but Dew can tell there's no malice behind it. "Now, I believe I owe you the second half of a massage?"

[atopvisenyashill]

What are your thoughts on GRRM’s new notablog post on HOTD S2?

omg i'm sorry so i did not get notified that i had a few new asks, i didn't even see this until i logged in on desktop. tumblr eat shit smh.

ANYWAYS.

I actually agree with Xiran Jay Zhao, here, where they said this was a warning shot. It feels like a warning shot. Like a "hey I'm being nitpicky and pedantic now but if you think I won't go scroched earth you got another thing coming." I've seen so much "this is unprofessional" "this is annoying" "why is he complaining" and I think it is not only mind boggling to side with a corporation and the idiots running these shows (and we know I mostly like Condal and Hess, but come on Condal was the mastermind of Sansa Bolton why are we defending him right now!!), I think everyone is blowing his comments wildly out of proportion. He didn't take a dig at anyone but the writer's room and more specifically Ryan Condal, who he has had a working relationship with for well over a decade. He didn't shittalk any casting, he didn't shittalk any specific writers or directors except one of the main showrunners, he compliments the special effects, he has consistently had (and imo is careful) nothing but praise for the actors, even minor roles like Blood & Cheese. This was an incredibly milqtoast "please remember that every change has huge affects on the narrative later" critique and the people handwringing over his behavior are absolute losers, I'm sorry.

And beyond the fact that he didn't make any huge digs, I think this conversation also wildly ignores the way authors have no control over their own characters once they sign the rights over. They can be completely bamboozled by changes and they have no recourse to go "what the hell are you doing." And yet, signing your book's rights away (even if the production sits in developmental hell for decades) is usually what nets these author's the most money - GRRM surely makes a shitton off his books, but most authors get paid absolutely nothing even when they're wildly popular because of how book deals work now. Take, again, Xiran for example - Iron Widow was a huge runaway hit, a good and fresh take on this new boom of culturally based sff. And yet Xiran has talked about how they immediately set to work writing a middle grade novel because they desperately needed the money because they got paid 16k over two years for their runaway hit that made their publishers significantly more than 16k. I think George is not only mad for authors with less control than he has but also, obviously, for himself - I've said time and again, but I do think Dark Daenerys is where we are headed, and the fact that they completely botched showing it has got to smart. And if the ending for Dany is anything other than Jon killing her, that has got to smart too. So he watched these people fuck up his original series and push him completely out of that writer's room as they made more and more changes, and now he's watching s2 of HOTD and seeing some changes and getting some real bad vibes. It's not doomerism to think s3 is going to go massively off the rails when we have seasons 6-8 of the main show to show us just how off the rails it can go!

So anyways, that part of my rant over (and please believe me when I say I checked myself here because I could rant for hours about how it's genuinely so upsetting to see people call him unprofessional over this when not only did he write the fucking series, but he's lived in this series for three decades!!!!! this is his whole life, this is his legacy, of course he's feeling some type of way about how it's handled jesus christ on a cracker, there's people who have said worse about their mediocre nyt pushed bestsellers getting adapted badly!), when it comes to the actual meat of his post....I'm sorry idk how anyone is annoyed by this post because it was hilarious to me. He spent a whole blog post whinging about how Dead Baby #4 and Kingsguard Man #12 are gonna get cut out of the show. I think he framed it in that goofy way on purpose to hide how annoyed he is but you can see where the real annoyance lies - the changes to Helaena, losing one of his grisly death scenes, and being willfully mislead about potential changes to the plot. I think a lot of people missed those points but EYE am not a goofy ass like those people and I can guarantee you that Condal and HBO got the point too.

Of course, I do think he is also irked about Maelor and Ser Rickard's scenes being cut out. He wrote a long ass, highly meticulous, near unadaptable work, and I think when he handed the IP over he assumed he was giving it to people who would rise to the challenge and only make cuts when absolutely necessary. And that just clearly hasn't happened. Incredibly important characters get cut, main characters get their plots wildly changed for no reason, and people get personality transplants on a near constant basis for no other reason than D&D and Condal thought it would look cooler. I think if there was more dedication to keeping him in the loop and keeping true to the story, he wouldn't have bitched so much. But Hess is on record saying she doesn't feel loyal to the story and at a certain point, you reach your breaking point there and I think he has finally reached his. AND GOOD FOR HIM. LET THAT OLD MAN GO APESHIT THEY'VE COMPLETLEY FUCKED HIS WORLD UP!!!

[totokoismyfav]

OMG I loved the daddymatsu headcanon you made, I totally loved it! Hey, I hope you don't mind, but could you please make a similar headcanon, but with the Mafia!Daddymatsu? , where they come home stained with blood and when they were about to go wash themself, their kids see him, and because of their innocence they think that their parents are hurt and they run around the house worried calling for their Mother saying something like "Mommy, mommy! daddy is hurt! He needs bandages and kissys!" , when in reality the blood is not even his father's *wink*

I hope you don't mind, take your time, and rest properly, I hope you have a good day/afternoon/night! <3

of course anon! coming right up! (i haven't written for the Mafia! bros ever so sorry if it seems ooc)! also sorry this took so long anon!

daddymatsu! mafia! matsuno bros/reader - osomatsu san/ reader

osomatsu:

Ugh, he needed a shower. Fresh blood stained his suit as he walked through the door of his home, eager to wash this shit off and climb into bed with you. What he wasn't expecting, however, was his son running up to him with open arms, "Yay, dad's home!" Osomatsu was taken aback, he was supposed to be in bed by now! Before his son could hug him, the child stopped, taking a few steps back as he saw the crimson life essence staining his wear. Osomatsu cursed himself mentally, shit he wasn't supposed to see this. He promised you and his son that he wouldn't get involved with this mafia bullshit. Before he could say anything, his son called out to you while pointing his small finger at his father, "Mamma! Dad's hurt, he needs bandages for his boo-boos!" Osomatsu blinked in surprise as you came running in with a first-aid kit and a confused look, sighing in relief as you figured out what was happening. Before your son went to bed, the rest of the night was spent with your son bandaging your very confused and relieved husband with bandages he didn't even need.

karamatsu: He tried so hard to keep this life away from his precious little girl, not wanting her to have any part in it whatsoever. And that included making sure the job was done as quickly and cleanly as he possibly could. But all it took was one slip-up and the haunting feeling he ruined his baby girl's innocence forever. He entered the house trying to get to the shower as quickly as he possibly could, quickly saying he was home, darting for the master restroom. Of course, he wasn't fast enough to outspeed an excited little girl as he heard her tiny footsteps following him down the hall, "Yay! Daddy's home!" His heart jumped at the sound of her voice, not even having time to react as she crawled from under his legs to face him, her happy face turned into an expression of fear as she saw her father covered in blood. This was it, all his fears were recognized as he felt his world crumble before him. Tears started to roll down her face, "Mommyyy! Daddy's hurt!" Although he felt a wave of relief that she didn't realize he had injured someone, Karamatsu panicked, "No no no my precious firefly! Daddy is alright! No need to call for mommy, we just need to wash away the boo-boos!" She hiccuped as her eyes looked up into his, "O-Ok..." Karamatsu and his daughter then bandaged him up together, even if he didn't need them but he kept up the illusion so she didn't know whose blood it really was.

choromatsu:

"Damn it..." He muttered to himself as he fixed his cuffs, it wasn't like him to botch up the job this badly. He was coming home from a fight that had broken out, he and his brothers came out unscathed but not clean. Blood was all over him as he entered the door, the house quiet as he took off his shoes. "I'll have to clean this tonight." Taking off his suit jacket, he headed for the laundry room but first made a pit stop at his daughter's bedroom. Cracking the door open, he saw the small toddler sleeping soundly as a warm smile spread across his face. He closed the door and sighed, too tired to even notice that the little girl had woken up and followed her father to the laundry room. He heard a small gasp behind him, making him freeze as he quickly turned around. Damn it! She can't see him, not like this, it will surely give the impression he killed someone, and having his daughter know that made him wanna scream! "Y-young lady, you should be in bed!" He whisper-yelled, not wanting to wake you up. "B-But daddy, you're hurt! You need bandages and kisses for your boo-boos!" "E-Eh?" His daughter ran up to him and took a very confused Choromatsu by the hand, "We're gonna go get mamma!" "WH-WHAT?! NO NO NO!"

ichimatsu:

His cat-like reflexes had filed him this time, he should have realized sooner he had passed them on to his daughter. Ichimatsu decided to make a run for it as soon as he reached the front door of your home, knowing his daughter would still be awake when he entered the door. He darted straight for the master restroom, ignoring your welcome. He made a mental note to explain to you what was going on later, but for now, all his mind could focus on was making sure his baby didn’t see him like this. He almost reached your bedroom door before his cat ears popped from his hair, flickering as he heard a small giggle from above. He looked up to her usual hiding place on the top of the bookshelf, damn him and his dumbass self. He should have known that was where she was. She had jumped down, Ichimatsu making sure he had his arms open to catch her so she wouldn’t fall. “Yay! Papa’s home! Papa’s– …Home…” Her tiny voice faltered as she looked at his clothes. Shit! He knew it was all over from there, soon enough she would hate him for all of this and she’ll move out when she’s eighteen with a boy and never come back and– “Papa! You’re hurt!” “Ehh?” His thoughts were interrupted as she placed her small hand on his chest, “You’ve got a lot of boo-boos! We need to bandage them!” She jumped down on all fours from his arms as she led him to you, “Mamma! Papa needs kisses and bandaids! He’s hurt!” Your husband looked at you with a surprised stare, keeping that expression as the two of you “bandaged” him.

jyushimatsu:

He walked home, blood-stained bat in hand, his signature smile never leaving his face as he thought of you and his son. Thoughts of the day he was born filled his head as his heart swelled with pride, walking through the front door of his house and yelling, “I’m home!” You yelled back your welcome from the kitchen as he looked around the room for his son. Nowhere to be found, good. The last thing he needs is for his boy to see him covered in someone else's blood. He made his way towards your bedroom as he stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes looking off towards the side as he heard plastic tricycle wheels roll up from behind him. Ah shit… “Hi dad, I had so much fun at school today! We did finger painting and read books and played games and–” His small child’s rambling was interrupted as he saw the back of his father's suit painted in blood. Jyushimatsu’s smile faltered when he heard his son’s voice die down, making the mistake of turning around for his son to see he was covered in more blood. Tears ran down the poor boy’s face as he got of his tricycle and ran up to his father. “No, don’t cry! Boeh!” Jyushimatsu attempted to make funny face gags in an attempt to get him to laugh, it didn’t really work though as his child cried louder. “Wahhhh! Dad’s hurt!” Huh? Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting that response. His child ran around the house shouting, “He needs bandages! My dad needs bandages!” Right on cue, you ran into the room with the bandages as your husband looked at you with a surprised expression. The both of you decided to go along with your son’s thinking as to not ruin his innocence. Maybe one day, you’ll tell him this story.

todomatsu:

Ew, he needed to get into the bath ASAP. He cursed to himself that he would miss putting his baby girl to bed as his baths normally take about an hour and she would already be in bed by then. Todomatsu always made sure to get home before then but today he was sloppy with his work. So sloppy that he ended up being covered in enemy blood. Luckily, his daughter wouldn’t have to see him like this so maybe her being in bed already was a blessing in disguise. Ready to come in and kiss you as you welcomed him home, he trudged through the door lazily shouting (not too loudly) that he was home. It had been a long day, all he needed was a warm relaxing bath and maybe a cuddle session or two with you if he was still awake by then. However, his thoughts were interrupted by his little girl’s squeal from the other room as he froze in place. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shiiiiit! You decided to let her stay up tonight so that she could see him, usually, that wouldn’t be a problem but on tonight of all nights, he could perish right there and right now. “Daddy! Daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy, daaaaddy!” The small girl shouted as she ran around the corner from the living room, eyes closed as she squealed in delight once more. Aww, she was so cute! Wait, focus! Bath, now! “Not right now princess, daddy needs a bath!” He tried to escape from her, he really did but it all fell apart when he felt a tiny hand grab his own. “Daddy, you’re covered in blood…” SHIIIIIT! His face froze in terror as she tugged on his arm once more, “You’re hurt daddy, you need bandages right now! Moooommy!” “What?! No! Don’t call for your mother!” You ran in with bandages as you looked in confusion at the sight, laughing slightly as you helped your husband take off all his “bandages” later that night after your daughter went to bed so he could finally take his well-deserved bath.

[ac-19]

Team - D. Franklin (Bravo 6)

Summary: after everything that happened with Echo Team he's never introduced you to any of his teammates, until Bravo comes along.

I took one last look in the mirror and smiled at my reflection. I had curled my hair quickly, did my makeup, and changed into a pair of dark washed jeans and a tank top with lace on it. I looked good if I had to say so myself.

I knew I was running late, and I could hear my phone buzzing on the kitchen counter, most likely texts from Drew asking where I was, as I finished up my makeup with some red lipstick.

I made my way to this new bar Drew had texted me the address to earlier as fast as I could and walked inside. I quickly scanned the bar and smiled when I saw Drew standing by a table holding a beer in his hand.

My heels clicked on the floor as I walked towards him. Once I was close enough Drew turned his head and I smiled.

"Fashionably late?"

Drew shook his head and before he could say anything else three men walked our way and one of them but his hand on Drew's shoulder.

"Let's go... sorry to interrupt ma'am but you know Drew here is not much of talker."

I chuckled.

"You don't say."

"But I on the other hand..."

"Sonny shut the fuck up, she's married."

I looked down at my left hand and smiled at the sight of the ring that sat on my finger.

"Engaged actually."

"Guys meet my fiancé, (Y/N)."

I took two steps towards Drew and he wrapped his arm around my waist and pressed a soft kiss to the side of my head.

"Oh shit."

"Did not see that coming."

I chuckled.

"(Y/N) meet the assholes from Bravo team, Sonny, Omar and Trent."

"Brock should be joining us shortly too."

I smiled.

"Next round's on me boys, what's everyone drinking?"

"I like her already, Drew."

"Beers for everyone."

I nodded as I left Drew's side and headed towards the bar. The bartender walked over and I gave him a smile.

"Five beers."

"Sorry for botching date night."

I looked over at Drew and smiled.

"It's all good."

He nodded.

"You can make it up to me later tonight at home."

Drew smirked.

"I think I can make that happen."

I smiled at the bartender as he laid the beers down in front of Drew and I.

"Why now?"

"Why not? Come on."

I smiled to myself as I picked up the beers off the bar and followed Drew back over to the table his team mates were gathered around. He was a man of few words that was for sure.

"So Drew how'd you wrangle this one in?"

Drew just shruggred as he took a sip of his beer.

"Beats me."

"Now look, we'll take any embarrassing stories you have of Magic Mike over here."

"Magic Mike?"

I looked up at Drew who just rolled his eyes.

"Look guys as much as I would love to dish out all the embarrassing stuff I know about Drew Franklin, I do want to keep being engaged to him after tonight so I believe I'll have to keep my mouth shut on that topic."

The rest of the night was spent talking and laughing with Drew's teammates. It was nice to see him getting comfortable around his teammates again. I knew it was a sore subject so I didn't mention anything for the rest of the night.

"Thank you for tonight."

I smiled as I leaned my head back on Drew's shoulder as he wrapped his arms around my waist in the steaming hot bath we were currently sitting in.

"Of course."

"It feels nice to finally have a team that kind of feels like a family."

I smiled.

"Yeah you seem happy."

"Right now, couldn't be happier."

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

why do so many people keep calling ed izzy's abuser? I thought it was kind of funny how wrong they were at first because I love being right but at this point I feel like, if you really believe that why do you even like this show? where the main love interest is a violently abusive indigenous man? that sounds boring as shit. what would possess the writers of the show for them to make such an awful decision?

but then I think, if this many people believe it does that mean I'm the one who's wrong? or is it that the creators fumbled that storyline when they should have been clearer about it? or maybe it's just that most people on here have had their reading comprehension scorched away by Sherlock Holmes conspiracy theories and Steven Universe discourse. I can't tell. sometimes I think the internet may have been a mistake.

No they're wrong here's what's going on. People all read this shitty fic called Hell or High Water where Ed was everything the Izzy stans say he was and then instead of realizing that Ed is sad everyone regressed into thinking that the Kraken Era TM was going to be incredibly violent, like serial killing blond men because they look like Stede levels of violence. Even if you didn't read HoHW you saw art or read fic from people who had engaged with this fic and succumbed to it's premise. So there's been this background radiation of misunderstanding what the Kraken is on the fandom for several months. So inevitably when Ed did some mild violence and then attempted suicide by threatening murder until the crew took matters into their own hands, which is not abuse or torture by any stretch, btw, it's a murder-suicide at worst (I say at worst because I consider it fuckery-suicide I don't think Ed was trying to kill people I think he was trying to force them into a situation where they thought it was kill or be killed so that they would choose to kill him, but that is my interpretation and you are free to think it's a botched murder-suicide I have no problem with that), which, murder is something the show has never condemned and if it did it would be horribly inconsistent. So anyway, Ed's whole Kraken Era was categorized in the show by him being sad and doing so many drugs and begging someone please god anyone to kill him and trying to break Ned Low's record out of the evil boredom, but because it had a murder-suicide element to it and Izzy's toes were getting removed and he waved a gun around at everyone once (in a way that felt to me like he was trying and failing to work up the nerve to blow his own brains out but I digress) people who liked HoHW and were mad that people had called it out were like "see hes being violent HoHW author vindicated" as if anything Ed did rose to the level of that fic

And you want to know how I know this read is bullshit? Because when I watch the show with people who don't read fic or interact with the fandom and then I gauge their reactions without showing my hand they all implicitly understand that Ed is reacting to Izzy in a way appropriate to how pirate captains react to threats from subordinates. The spectrum of reactions has been from "hey isn't it weird how Ed was the Kraken because his dad was abusive and now he's the kraken because of Izzy? Maybe there's something there but idk" to "I don't think you can apply the logic of domestic abuse to a pirate captain and first mate but also Izzy had it coming" to "I cannot feel bad for Izzy after last season, I'm sorry." To "lmao Izcel" and I've showed this show to roughly everyone I know. The only thing I can conclude from the fact that people who don't engage with OFMD fic almost unilaterally thinking that Izzy is in the wrong and then coming online to see people thinking the opposite is that Izzy as victim and Ed as abuser is pure fanon, like how Stede is a cinnamon roll who talks like Azeriphael.

But anyway yeah you're completely right about the fact that this would be a bad show if they decided to make Ed into a domestic abuser. I don't want to watch a rom com about a domestic abuser falling in love and I don't want a show that decided to make it's indigenous lead abusive when the stereotype of indigenous men as abusers is still to this day used as an excuse to separate indigenous children from their families and put them with white Christians in order to erase their culture. Good thing OFMD didn't make Ed abusive, so I still like the show.

[undeadcannibal]

Hey thought of some cute and funny Headcannons for Ghost, Gaz and Price teaching their s/o on how to make a “proper cup of tea.”

Summary: Ghost, Gaz, and Price show their S/O how to make a ‘proper’ cup of tea.

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Ghost, Gaz, Price

Warnings: None!

A/N: Thank you for the request, Anon! I hope I didn’t botch this one. OTL Hopefully y’all enjoy ‘em!  ( Gif credit: xxx )

Ghost―

Depression was a bitch. Even the simplest things like making food for yourself turned into arduous tasks. Much like today. You were trying to get something - anything, really - into your system just so you didn't feel even worse later on.

Grabbing a mug, you filled it with tap water and set it aside on the counter so you could rummage around through your selection of teas. While you were browsing, you could hear Ghost entering the kitchen thanks his heavy booted footfall, prompting you to glance at him over your shoulder.

"Hey, hon."

Ghost nodded silently as he strode over so he could place a kiss to the top of your head.

"Doin' alright, love?"

Pursing your lips, you hesitated responding before eventually shaking your head. "Not really, no. Having one of those days, I'm sorry..."

He shook his head. "Nothin' to be sorry for."

Looking over towards the counter, he gestured to it silently with a jut of his head. "Making a cuppa?"

"Yeah," You nodded. "I was looking through the teas just now."

"What'd you settle on?"

"Mm," You shrugged your shoulders. "Maybe some Earl Grey?"

You watched Ghost squint his eyes down at you, causing you to laugh softly. "What? Don't tell me..."

Ghost's chest puffed up as he took a deep inhale and exhaled slowly as he nodded his head eventually. "No offense, love, but I know when you're not feeling well you tend to throw things into the microwave more."

"I'm 'fraid I can't let you do that. Let me take care of it. I'll make one for myself, too."

Playfully rolling your eyes at him, you nodded your head in agreement anyway.

"Fine, fine." Snorting softly, you'd also comment. "Brits and their tea." Shaking your head for good measure.

Reaching around, Ghost delivered a light pinch to your backside, pleased with himself once he saw you jump and yelp in response. Smacking your smaller fists against his hard chest. "Watch your mouth, brat."

Afterwards, he walked away so he could grab the kettle he brought over just because he preferred it over other methods.

"Here," After he filled the kettle with water, he placed it on the stove top to heat up. "I'll teach you how to make proper tea."

Feeling a little better with Simon's company and attention, you couldn't help but nod and smile at him. "Yes Chef~"

Gaz―

"What tea did you wanna brew again?" Kyle asked as he picked out cups for each of you; his was a royal blue with a union jack on it, yours was molded after a black cat with the tail curled up for the handle.

"Oolong, please."

He nodded and took the loose leaf tea bag out, choosing his own shortly after while you took care of putting water into the kettle, setting it aside for it to boil. While you waited for the water to heat up, you walked over to him, pressing yourself into his back as your arms wrapped him up in a loose hug.

"Doin' alright, dove?"

"Mhm." You nodded against him only to jump shortly afterward when you heard the kettle going off, causing him to laugh at you.

Reluctantly pulling away, you'd reach over to take off the kettle from the heat. Readying it to pour straight into your mug before Kyle called out to you.

"Wait!"

Your eyes widened as you halted in mid-air, whipping your head to look at Gaz like he was a mad man. "What? What's wrong?" You asked in a concerned tone, shaking your head at him.

"You're brewing Oolog tea, right?" He waited for you to nod in confirmation before carrying on. "You've gotta let the water cool for a bit before adding it in. Over-boiled water will make the taste turn a bit off. Also," As he rummaged around in the drawer for something, he'd pull out a thermometer shortly after, smirking at you cheekily. "You've gotta let it brew for two to three minutes."

Staring at him with a deadpan expression, you couldn't help but sigh.

"You've got to be kidding me..."

Kyle shook his head. " 'Fraid not, love. Trust me, you'll thank me later."

"It's just tea!" You exclaimed with a chuckle. "I doubt the difference in taste is that noticeable."

"We'll see about that." He'd reply as he took the liberty of checking the temperature of the water.

You ended up just letting him do whatever he wanted so he didn't fuss over how you made tea.

After the two of you were done, you didn't really taste much of a difference than how you'd normally make it, but for his sake, you acted as if it was the best damn cup of tea you'd ever had. Taking pleasure in seeing him light up with pride at his success.

Price―

"How do you take your tea, sweetheart?"

You were currently making breakfast for the two of you while he tended to the tea. In the time you'd spent together, you'd learned that when he wasn't busy with work, he tended to prefer having tea over coffee when he could.

"Um," Scrambling the eggs in the pan, you hesitated in answering. "I guess sweet is fine?"

"Just... sweet?" John asked, turning to look at you with an amused expression on his face.

Meeting him with a glance of your own, you squinted your eyes at him as if daring him to say something. "Yeah? Don't tell me you prefer unsweetened tea." You teased.

John shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. Leaning back against the counter. "No, no. Not sure how they do things in the States, but we've a few ways to make a cuppa here."

"For example," He continued, gesturing vaguely towards the empty cups waiting on the counter top. "The kind I prefer has a bit of milk to it, few bits o' sugar as well."

"Oooh," You laughed softly, stirring the eggs in the pain as you joked with him. "My apologies, Gordon Ramsay, apparently I forgot to brush up on my tea knowledge."

Huffing, he'd glance off to the side with a disbelieving shake of his head. "The nerve of this one..." He mumbled to himself with a smile.

"I'm just saying," He'd begin, pushing himself off the counter so he could step over to stand in front of you. Towering over you with the height difference between the two of you. "Your poor taste buds deserve better, dear."

"Pfft, get out of here!" You laughed, waving at his face with your free hand. Before your hand fell to your side, he captured your wrist in a gentle hold, pulling it towards his face so he could kiss the back of your hand. The rough scrape of his facial hair coaxing a shiver to course up your spine.

"Never~" He spoke against your hand before he began to kiss his way up your arm. Stopping once he was close enough to you he could whisper just loud enough for you to hear. "Let me make you a right cuppa?"

How could you ever say no to that?

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 68 (A House Fire with No Fire on Spooky Party Day?!)

While Heather and Conrad got ready for guests to arrive, Malcolm sent a few pictures of Ash dressed in his bunny costume. Going trick or treating in the building today, he reported. Heather smiled.

Glad you're all having fun, she wrote back. Civility with her son's father could be nice.

Focused on the party, Heather was determined to redeem herself after her botched attempt to throw a Spooky Day party back in high school. This time, she made sure to note it was a costume party, and all her guests confirmed they'd show up dressed accordingly!

Her youngest sister, Hazel, arrived early with her fiancee, Nicola. They were staying the night in the upstairs guestroom, excited for a short getaway on the coast before their upcoming wedding.

"The decorations look great!" Hazel gushed. "Spooky record player!"

"Does anyone smell fire?" Nicola sniffed the air. "I hate fire."

"I don't smell anything," said Conrad. The only thing he smelled was his spinach and cheese omelet.

They went about the afternoon and finished setting up for the party. Conrad left for a short walk with Gord, and the fire Nicola smelled finally materialized in the bedroom! Heather, Hazel, and Nicola ran toward the flame, screaming incoherently, until Heather finally grabbed an extinguisher and put out the blaze.

From the delayed fire, they suffered damage to a bathroom countertop, mirror, Heather and Conrad's bed, and a bedside table. A cluster of wall hangings also burned, but considering how long the flames had burned invisibly, they were grateful the damage hadn't been any worse!

(I assume the lack of a visible fire for so long was a glitch, but I'm also at a loss as to how it started. They lost a decor hairdryer in the blaze, but it doesn't even plug in. Sorry for walls down in the second shot when the fire finally showed up, but I was kinda flabbergasted!

The fire actually looks like it started in the bedroom - I thought bathroom at first, so we could blame the Scare Seeker lot trait which was on when the fire began! Also yes I bought a bassinet in anticipation before they lost the baby and it's just sitting there waiting. Didn't burn!)

They managed to replace the damaged furniture, clean up, and get changed into their costumes before guests arrived. Conrad had time to finish the spooky cookies, and Heather handed out candy to a few trick or treaters. One in particular made her smile.

"What planet are you from, Master Yoda?"

"Everyone knows Yoda's home planet has never been confirmed," scoffed the masked child. Impressed, Heather gave her extra candy.

Just like in high school, Heather painted herself blue to dress as a Twi'lek, determined this time to get at least one picture of herself for all the effort. She was all dressed up and prepping some last minute treats in the kitchen when Conrad the Sexy Mailman walked in.

"Say, there, sexy alien lady. Did you have any mail you need delivered?" He shook his hips in his tight bicycle shorts, and Heather nearly abandoned the stove to drag him to the bedroom.

"Don't tempt me. This blue paint will get everywhere."

Instead, they posed for a couple photos to send back to Malcolm.

Tell Ash we say hi. Happy Spooky Day!

Heather carved pumpkins as guests arrived, while Conrad challenged one of his coworkers to a game of chess. They'd invited all Heather's siblings, but Kris and Holly were busy with their newborn daughter, Tetra, and couldn't make it.

But Uncle Karl arrived in a gladiator suit with his husband Mortimer. "They send their love and asked us to bring home some spooky cookies and candy!"

Heather's high school friend, Dylan, arrived with her husband Gavin, and Heather greeted them with a smile. Gavin's rented spacesuit made for an awkward hug, and Dylan showed up in the same Twi'lek costume and blue body paint as Heather. "I'm so glad you could make it. And you got my text!"

"I don't know why you were afraid to wear such a revealing costume by yourself. You look great! But I have come all the way from the planet Ryloth to join you here on Simlandia for the evening's festivities. I look forward to observing human behaviour in such a strange environment."

Heather laughed. "How's life with two kids under four?"

"Way harder than life with just Pearl," said Gavin. "Whenever Darrell cries, she starts crying, too. Thank goodness her mom agreed to watch the kids tonight. If Dylan and I don't let our hair down a little, we might go insane."

"He's exaggerating...kinda. We love them, but we're happy to get out of the apartment for a while," said Dylan, sipping her Spooky Day-themed 'blood' cocktail.

River and Cass showed up with her mother Bella Goth, and Everett danced the night away with Spencer. Even Heather's parents, Daisy and Neal, stayed until late.

Taking a break from dancing to Latin Pop tunes blasting from the Grimophone, Everett joined Heather outside. She was carving a pumpkin and enjoying the temperate evening, and Heather's costume nearly knocked him over with nostalgia. "You still look incredible in blue paint. Hope you got some pictures this time."

"This was a much more successful Spooky Day party than my first attempt, thank you very much."

"You and Conrad are great hosts."

They caught one another up on their sons and laughed together in the moonlight, but after everything they'd been through, and where they were in their lives now, their high school kiss under the stars was a distant memory.

"It's funny, you and Malcolm both dressed up as pirates this year. And Malcolm Landgraab as a pirate is just...there's this old story about a pirate queen who cursed the Landgraabs," she said.

(I put Malcolm in a pirate costume on purpose, Everett just appreciates giving me symbolism with Heather's two past loves dressed in the same costume that happens to remind her of the curse she fears will harm her son!)

"I'm not a fan of Malcolm Landgraab, but I trust in the Watcher far too much to put any stock in curses."

Heather shook off the conversation. A priest couldn't talk to her about curses or raising the dead. For the first time in her life, she couldn't talk to her best friend. She glanced through the kitchen window, where Conrad was chatting with Bella Goth. These days, he was the person she could tell everything.

Before he stood to head back inside, Everett smiled. "It's nice to know you know how to throw a costume party, after all," he teased. Heather laughed to herself.

Though she'd worn the same costume as she did back in high school, she was such a different person now. ->

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