#this actually wound up shorter than i thought it would be

[xadianglyphs]

The Dragonscale Amulet: Theory

And finally... literally the reason I made this entire blog. Basically, back in March we had this:

Anyway, I dropped literally everything to catalog the entire breadth of writing, runes, glyphs, etc. in the series so far, all in order to figure out what the hell this means. One theory that has evolved in the meantime is that the symbol on the amulet represents an acorn or seed, but I would like to propose another.

First, let's look at the amulet and symbol, themselves.

The amulet is composed of a dragon scale (allegedly, at least... we haven't seen dragon scales separated from dragons anywhere else) that is red, highly reflective (whether naturally or polished after the fact), and about palm-sized. By that scale, it probably comes from a dragon about Pyrrah's size or a little larger, unless it was carved down to a smaller size when crafted into an amulet. The scale is anchored in a gold setting, with a shape and decorations that have a fair amount of similarity to the Staff of Ziard. (Maybe we should have anticipated an Aaravos/Startouch association.)

As for the symbol, accounting for perspective (to the best of my abilities), we have this:

The symbol is etched directly into the scale's surface. Its lines are less smooth than the ones decorating the setting, which could indicate that it was added at another time (earlier/later) with a less precise tool, or just that gouging designs into dragon scales is hard.

In terms of similarity to other symbols we've seen so far, it could come from a similar system as the symbols in Infantis Sanguine. It also has similarities to a primal rune, though the sharp, wide corners are unusual. Either way, I think this is a pictographic symbol representing an item or concept as a whole, not an alphabetic character—this isn't Laurelion personally going around with a blinged-out "L" necklace.

So what could it be? Well, I propose that it's a heart. Like so:

My initial impression had the horizontal top "crossbar" as the pulmonary arteries, and the vertical center line as the aorta/vena cava, but you could also look at the crossing vertical and diagonal lines as dividing the space into the four chambers of the heart. However, I think there's another direction to go with that diagonal, so let's put a pin in that for a moment.

Why a heart? Because there has a sizeable amount of fairly convincing speculation post-s4 that the dark space in Aaravos's chest is either figuratively or literally representing his heart having been removed. @raayllum's are a lot more coherent, but I've also done my share.

I'm sure someone had this thought before I did, if only because I was super late to the fandom. But I had it!

... okay right, back to the amulet.

Aaravos's heart is also a key part of the "Laurelion and Aaravos are the same person" theory, in part because Laurelion's heart is the center of everything we currently know about them.

Laurelion's heart was pierced by either the as-yet-unnamed Novablade itself or a piece of draconic ivory (i.e. a dragon's tooth) that was later forged into the Novablade, after which "immortal Laurelion was no more."

Aside from creating an additional connection between Laurelion and dragons, making the dragon scale of the amulet even more interesting, let's go back to the symbol in light of the whole "pierced" thing.

Now, TDP has a fair amount of Christian symbolism and imagery to it, some purely because of how deeply Christianity is embedded in western culture but some also definitely intentional. Aaravos was initially framed as a Prometheus figure, but it became progressively more clear that he's a Lucifer one—a tempter, a rebel angel, out to destroy creation. They absolutely know what they're doing with things like the *checks watch* 2019 Aaravos birthday post:

So don't think it's completely insane to take that, Laurelion's death[citation needed], and the amulet symbol, and think of this:

Depictions of the Sacred Heart don't seem to usually show the spear, just the wound, but I wasn't raised Catholic so work with me here. (If you want to get even more Catholic, there's also the Immaculate Heart of Mary, which is almost always depicted with a sword piercing it diagonally all the way through because she's... sad? Look, I don't know.) The idea is that it represents the boundless and fervent love of God expressed through the suffering of Jesus, which... whatever.

I do think it's interesting, however, that we are primed to question Laurelion's "death" and concepts of mortality/immortality, death of identity, etc. in the context of Startouch elves because while there's definitely a possibility that an immortal being stripped of their immortality is a punishment, there's also... a lot of cultural precedent for that as a willing gift of love to a mortal/mortals, whether you're looking at Jesus, Castor and Pollux, or Arwen and Aragorn. So we'll see how that plays out.

Anyway, that's my weird fringe theory: the amulet symbol represents Laurelion's pierced heart.

Probably time to worry about Claudia. (As if we weren't, already.)

Bonus:

[jiarkives]

touchy-feely

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — nanami’s love language is not physical touch, or so he thought until you came along.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — nanami kento (jujutsu kaisen)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — based on a headcanon on a tiktok i came across earlier 😋 reader is described to be smaller/shorter than nanami ,,, also, i am not sure if i am using the title right, please do lmk if i’m not so i could change it 🤍 english is a very tricky language, especially for non-native speakers like moi 😔

~

Nanami never thought of physical touch when he thought of his love language. His top 1 would be quality time. Acts of service would come a close second. But physical touch? He didn’t even think he had it in him to be affectionate with his partners through touch.

But then you came along, worming your way into his life very slowly but very surely, breaking down and through his walls, and before he knew it, he was yours. Completely and wholeheartedly yours.

And that was when he realized just how much he loved touching you and how much he loved you touching him, and how starved he actually was of affection and, well, touch.

You have been together for years now and it was safe to say that you are in the point of your relationship where you would be acting your craziest and silliest around one another without feeling embarrassed. However, you two are not very vocal with your relationship in public. Hell, your coworkers did not even know you were together until they caught you on a date one time outside of work.

It isn’t that either of you were embarrassed of each other, no. It is more like you wanting to reserve your affections for more private affairs. That did not mean he was not affectionate with you though, and you with him.

In fact, Nanami has to be touching you almost all the time. It isn’t the grander gestures like hugs and kisses. They usually are smaller actions, like your knees touching under the table as you eat together. He would often interlock your pinkies as you walk down the streets. If not that, then your hands would be intertwined. When you eat out, his hand is on the small of your back as he guides you through the restaurant door, then he always pulls out a chair for you first, guiding you to sit with, again, his hand on your upper back or your shoulder. In crowded areas, his arm would find its way around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

And when you are in the comfort of your shared home, he would often stare at you adoringly as you do your own thing, his hand moving as if it has its own mind to brush stray hair away from your face. On movie nights, your head would be resting on his shoulder with his arm is around you, absentmindedly stroking your arm with his thumb.

On his bad days, he would come home to you and would immediately pull you with him to sit on the couch, his arms wound around your waist and his head on your shoulder. Oftentimes, he would pull you into his lap just so he can hold you closer and tighter.

Even in his sleep, he has to be touching you. You would fall asleep wrapped in his arms with your head resting on his chest and you would wake up facing away from him with his arms still around you and his chest pressed to your back.

In conclusion, Nanami could not be described by other people as a touchy person, unless it’s you. If they ask you, then boy are they in for a shock.

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act II, Scene I: The Suspicious Scheme)

The three times you sense something strange when everyone pairs you with Spencer, and the one time you understand why.

Part warning: Definitely inaccuracy in autopsy procedures and Spencer’s educational background, it’s hard writing a genius Words: 5.6k (not proofread, I’ll do it when I have the time so please excuse me if you see any mistakes) A/n: I tried to make this part shorter but I gave up. I hope you don’t mind reading more😌

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

I. The Forced Partner

There was usually a system when Hotch paired the team up, a method to his leadership that balanced skills and personalities to get the job done efficiently. But as Spencer and you were directed to the autopsy room together, you couldn’t help but wonder if Hotch was pushing his luck—or preferably yours.

It was weird. Two weeks had gone by since the last case where he had to witness you both sparring, and you would’ve thought he’d keep you apart. Yet here you were, together again, stepping into the cold, sterile room. 

The faint smell of antiseptic filled the air as you pulled on your gloves, the latex snapping against your wrists. A woman in blue scrubs, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, turned to greet you and Spencer. She extended a hand. 

“I’m Dr. Nina Patel, I’ll be overseeing the autopsy today. You must be from the BAU.”

You nodded, shaking her hand firmly. 

“Agent Y/N Y/L/N, and this is Dr. Spencer Reid,” you introduced, gesturing towards Spencer, who offered a brief nod and a tight lip smile in greeting. Dr. Patel returned the gesture and motioned for you both to approach the table. 

“Our Jane Doe was found early this morning in an alleyway downtown," she explained, pulling back the sheet to reveal a woman appearing in her late thirties. "There are no apparent injuries, and no ID was found with her.”

Spencer stepped closer. "Any indication of the time of death?" 

"Preliminary estimates put the time of death at approximately eight hours before she was found."

You watched as she started pointing to various parts of the body. 

"She was also found with her clothes in perfect condition. It’s possible she was placed there post-mortem."

Spencer raised an eyebrow. "Could suggest transportation from another location.”

You moved to the head of the table, examining Jane Doe's hands and nails. "No defensive wounds," you added. "She didn't fight back, or more likely, wasn't conscious during her final moments."

Dr. Patel nodded as she considered your observations. “It’s plausible that a strong sedative was used, which would leave minimal to no struggle marks. We’re running some tests as we speak.”

Spencer chimed in quickly after that. “The Unsub might have used succinylcholine, or even benzodiazepines,” he suggested. Then, turning toward you with a condescending tone as if simplifying it for your benefit, he added, “They’d metabolize quickly and would require a toxicology screen to detect definitively.”

You rolled your eyes.

“That’s impressive, Dr. Reid,” Dr. Patel remarked, her eyes lingering on him a moment longer than seemed strictly professional. You narrowed your eyes at her. “Did you study pharmacology formally, or is this a passion of yours?”

“I actually did a bit of formal study during my Ph.D. programs.”

“Oh, really? What did you study?”

“Chemistry and Engineering. Pharmacology intersects quite a bit with those fields, especially when looking at biochemical reactions.”

Dr. Patel seemed genuinely impressed. “That’s quite a formidable educational background. No wonder you’re so thorough with your analyses.”

You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Her admiration was professional, sure, but the way her eyes softened when she looked at him, the way her voice dipped just so—it was a tone you recognized all too well.

She was flirting with him.

You watched them, your gaze sharp and assessing. Although it wasn’t like Spencer to notice her advances; he was smart, yes, but his brilliance often left him oblivious to the layers of personal interaction that didn’t involve textbooks or theories. And Dr. Patel, with her easy smile and obvious interest, seemed to have her focus on him rather than the body lying between you.

You cleared your throat, louder than necessary.

“Can we continue?” 

Dr. Patel seemed to catch your eye, her expression shifting back to professional as she nodded. “Of course.”

She resumed her explanation, detailing the various findings and pointing out subtle indicators on the body that might have otherwise gone unnoticed. Spencer listened intently, his gaze shifting between Dr. Patel and you, noticing the subtle tension in the room, but didn’t comment.

It wasn’t until you had all the information you needed—and after you caught one last flirtatious look from Dr. Patel directed at him—that Spencer finally spoke up.

“She seems nice,” he remarked as you both stepped outside the building, heading toward the parking lot.

You shrugged. “Sure, if you say so.”

Spencer glanced at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Am I missing something?” 

You looked over at him, debating whether to explain, before you finally sighed. 

“It’s just... she seemed a bit more interested in you than the case,” you said, trying to keep your tone light but failing to hide your slight irritation.

And then he noticed it. The subtle tension in your voice, the way you avoided his gaze, the underlying frustration—it clicked. “Wait, are you... jealous?”

“No, I’m not!” You replied quickly, then softer, “I’m not.”

“You sound like it.”

You scoffed. “No, I sound like a friend trying to remind you that we have a case to focus on.”

“Oh, so now we’re friends?”

“I meant that in the broadest, most professional sense of the word.”

“Right,” Spencer replied sarcastically. “I didn’t realize jealousy was part of professional behavior.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you snapped. “Stop making it into something it’s not.”

“Sure.”

“Reid.”

“Y/L/N,” he shot back in the same flat tone.

Dear God, why was he so infuriating? How he had this ability, this perfectly annoying talent to get under your skin without seeming to try was beyond you. You both stared at each other for a while, until finally, you broke the silence with an exasperated sigh.

“Let’s just go,” you muttered, brushing past him.

You walked a few steps ahead, trying to shake off his words. It was absurd. The very idea was ridiculous when you were focused on the case, on solving the mystery—nothing more.

You were not jealous.

II. The Unavoidable Flight

“I’m telling you, she was definitely flirting with him,” you said, your voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance as you and Penelope made your way toward the plane. “It was so obvious, the way she kept looking at him, the tone of her voice. I mean, does professional decorum mean nothing anymore?”

“Why are you acting so surprised? Wonder Boy is actually quite the catch,” Penelope responded. “He’s not my type, but he clearly has admirers.”

Your eyes involuntarily drifted toward the man in question, who was walking a few paces behind, engaged in conversation with JJ. He was casually gripping the strap of his satchel bag, laughing at something JJ had just said. You narrowed your eyes.

“Well, I don’t understand what they see in him.”

“It might be that genius brain of his—totally irresistible to some.”

“It’s annoying, is what it is,” you grumbled, quickening your pace as the plane came into view.

Penelope responded with a sly grin. “You know what you sound like?”

“What?”

“Like someone who’s maybe a little jealous.”

You frowned, hating how she was the second person to conclude your irritation with something else. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. You seem unusually focused on how others interact with him.”

“I’m focused on maintaining a professional work environment,” you defended, trying to keep your voice even as you approached the steps of the plane. “Not about… whatever you’re implying.”

“Fine. If Dr. Patel makes her move and actually calls him, what would you do?”

Your eyes widened. “What? Who did you hear that from? Did he tell you? When did she call him?”

“Hypothetically, oh my god,” Penelope laughed, stepping onto the plane as you followed, slightly flustered. “I’m just saying, hypothetically, if it happened, what would you do? How would you react?”

You paused at the entrance, processing her question. “I’d do nothing.”

“Nothing? Really?”

“Yes, I’d do nothing because I’m not jealous.”

“That’s what any jealous person would say.”

You narrowed your eyes at her as you walked past the entrance, and when you caught her making herself comfortable on the long couch by the front, you quickly made your way to the back of the plane.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

“To find a spot where my supposed jealousy isn’t your inflight entertainment,” you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

“I knew you were jealous!”

“Supposed jealousy!”

Her laughter trailed after you, ringing down the narrow aisle as you navigated through the plane, bypassing Rossi, who was typing away on his phone, and Hotch, who sat across from him with his eyes closed, leaning back against his seat. You walked further down the aisle until you spotted an empty spot at the very back of the plane, looking very isolated and inviting.

It was perfect.

“Garcia! That’s my usual spot,” Spencer’s unmistakable voice echoed through the plane as you made yourself comfortable in your chair.

From the corner of your eye, you could see him standing over Penelope, a hand gesturing toward the seat while his other hand clutched his bag.

“But it’s so comfortable,” Penelope responded, settling deeper into the plush seat. “Come on, Reid, I don’t travel as much as you do. Let me have it.”

Spencer paused, his initial protest fading as he took in Penelope’s exaggerated comfort. “Where would I sit?”

“You can sit…”

You quickly closed your eyes. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t–

“Over there! There’s an empty spot in front of Y/N.”

You were going to kill her.

You sank deeper into your chair, hoping to avoid any forced small talk or, worse, awkward silence with him. Maybe if you were lucky enough, he’d pick another chair—perhaps next to Hotch, or Rossi, or—

A cough interrupted your thoughts.

“I know you’re pretending to sleep.”

Reluctantly, you opened one eye, peeking at him.

"Mind if I sit here?"

For a moment, you considered ignoring him, but the look on his face told you he wasn’t going to let it go. You rolled your shoulders, giving up the pretense, and sat up straighter.

“Actually, yes, I do mind.”

He raised an eyebrow but lowered himself onto the seat anyway, clearly unfazed by your objection.

"Reid,” you warned him. “I’m serious.”

"I know you are.” His eyes briefly swept around the cabin as he settled into the seat across from you, placing his satchel bag on his lap. "But every other seat is taken. Unless you want me to stand in the aisle for the next few hours?"

You rolled your eyes, letting out a resigned sigh as you crossed your arms. "Fine, but I'm reserving the right to nap, and you're reserving the right to not disturb that nap."

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?”

He leaned forward in his seat. “Do you know that you snore when you sleep?”

You gasped. “I do not!”

“You do. You sound like a little chainsaw.”

You gaped at him. The idea of a rough, grating noise being associated with you was almost laughable, and yet here he was, completely serious. You were unsure whether to be amused or offended.

“A chainsaw? That’s what you’re going with?”

“Well, considering the average chainsaw operates at around 90 decibels, I'd say it's an appropriate comparison."

“Don’t make me throw you off the plane.”

He shrugged, leaning back in his seat. “Just so you know, certain sleep positions can actually help reduce snoring. Maybe you should try—ouch!”

You nudged him with your foot, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make your point clear. He rubbed his leg and glanced up at you with a wry expression.

“Consider that your first and only warning,” you stated firmly before closing your eyes, signaling the end of the conversation.

“See, your position is all wrong, if you slightly elevate your—”

“Good night, Reid.”

There was suddenly a moment of silence, the kind that feels almost tangible, stretching out in the small space between you. Then, you heard it—a slight, barely audible chuckle.

You wondered if your mind was playing tricks on you, the sound so faint that it seemed it could easily be a figment of your imagination. But no, there it was again, a soft, amused sound that had you frowning even with your eyes closed.

“Good night, Y/N.”

Maybe you were already dreaming.

III. The Lock-in Incident

“Y/N,” JJ’s voice chimed from behind you while you were gathering a stack of folders on your desk. “Can you take these down to the filing room? Spencer’s already down there reorganizing some of the older case files.”

You eyed the thick folder in JJ’s hands. When there wasn’t an active case, the team often spent time organizing and maintaining the archives. As tedious as it was, it was a necessary task, and normally, you wouldn’t mind lending a hand.

But the sound of his name made you pause because working with him in a confined space seemed very much unappealing.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Aren’t you going there?” She asked, her gaze shifting to the folders in your hands.

Internally, you groaned. Yes, you were headed there, that had been the plan. But now that you knew Spencer was there, every step towards that cramped, paper-stuffed room felt like walking into a minefield.

“Maybe you should go down there instead.”

“I can’t,” she responded, already adding her folders to your pile. “I’ve got to finish my other reports before the end of the day.”

Your eyes glanced over to Derek’s desk across from you. “Morgan?”

He turned over a page in the file he was reading, not even looking up. “Sorry, Pretty Girl, I got my hands full with this case report.”

“Oh, come on.” You stormed over to him, desperation edging into your voice. “I’ll do you a favor—anything you want.”

Derek glanced up, finally giving you his attention, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“Anything I want?”

“Within reason.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, but I really can’t. This report’s due in an hour.”

Frustrated, you glanced over towards Emily’s desk, hoping for a backup, but groaned when you saw it was empty.

You finally sighed, feeling the weight of your options—or lack thereof—settle on your shoulders. You gathered the heavy folders in your arms, the paper edges digging slightly into your skin. It was just a few hours, you reasoned; you could manage Spencer. He could be insufferable, but you had your own ways of being equally annoying.

With a deep breath, you headed toward the filing room, mentally preparing yourself. He was already busy sorting through a pile of disorganized paperwork when you got there, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“I have more work for you,” you announced in a sing-song voice.

Spencer looked up, his eyes scanning the sight of the hefty folders in your arms. “Nope. They’re yours, not mine.”

You paused, leaning on the table filled with sorted files. “Are you sure you want me to do this by myself? Because, you know, I might just rearrange what you’ve already organized here. It would be a shame if all your hard work got… scrambled.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he quickly warned. “Hand them over. I’ll do it myself.”

You moved closer and placed the folders next to his neatly arranged stacks, deliberately nudging them just enough to seem accidental.

“Really?” he said, a hint of exasperation in his tone as he carefully realigned the folders you had nudged. “You know, we could actually get this done much faster if you’re not acting like a child.”

“Oh, please. Like you’re the mature one.”

“At least I’m trying to get the job done, not make it harder.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so uptight about every little detail, it wouldn’t be so hard,” you shot back, grabbing another stack of files to sort.

“I’m not uptight. I’m precise. There’s a difference.”

“Sure there is.”

Spencer opened his mouth to retort, but before he could get the words out, the sudden sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the cramped room. Both of you turned around simultaneously.

“Did that just…?” He began, stepping towards the door and trying the handle. It didn’t budge. He jiggled it again, more forcefully this time. “Great, it’s locked.”

“What?” You walked over, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Who the hell locked it?”

“I don’t think anyone did. These old doors… they stick. It’s probably just jammed,” Spencer explained, though his voice carried a hint of doubt.

Yeah, right, you thought, your skepticism growing. Despite his logical explanation, you couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a coincidence. The timing was just too perfect, and you had a sneaking suspicion that someone might have been behind this.

But then the reality of the situation sank in. Your immediate concern shifted to the fact that you were trapped here, with him, until someone realized you were missing. The prospect was both frustrating and daunting.

“Look, let’s just keep working,” he suggested. “The sooner we finish, the sooner we can figure out how to get out of here.”

You nodded, though a part of you wanted to argue. “Fine. But if we’re still stuck here by the time we’re done, you’re explaining this to Hotch.”

“We’ll get out, don’t worry.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” You picked up a folder from the pile, flipping it open to look over its contents. “How do I do this?”

“Sort them by case type first, then by date within each type.”

“So, this one would go under…?”

“Unsolved homicides,” Spencer replied, taking a quick peek at the document you held open. “And make sure it’s in chronological order with the others.”

You moved to the designated shelf, sliding the folder into its appropriate spot before returning to grab another. “Wait,” you opened the file, your eyes scanning the page. “I think this was my first case.”

You read through the document and nodded.

“Yes, look, it’s the one where the Unsub was targeting families with children,” you reminisced, your mind going back to the time when you were still new to the job. “That was such a hard case. Remember how I couldn’t stop crying? And how Hotch had to debrief me because I was still shaking even after we made the arrest?”

When you were met with silence, you looked up to see his back facing you, seeming too busy as he organized his files. You closed the document in your hands and walked back toward the shelf.

“Of course, you don’t remember,” you muttered under your breath. “Why would you even remember?”

A twinge of disappointment settled in your chest, even though you hated to admit it. It was stupid, really, to expect him to recall every little detail from the past, especially when it had to do with you. But just as you turned to grab another file, Spencer’s voice stopped you.

“October 19, 2011.”

You paused, turning slowly to face him, your brows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“The date you started working here,” Spencer said, still focused on his task. “You wore a black blouse and the brightest shade of red on your lips.”

You blinked, trying to understand what he was getting at.

“The case was in St. Louis,” Spencer continued, now looking up to meet your gaze directly. “Your first field assignment. You told Hotch you were ready, but the case really got to your head.”

You found yourself at a loss for words, realizing what he was trying to do.

“You cried when you came back from talking with the victim’s family. You cried when the second victim was found. You cried when we finally caught the Unsub.”

You continued to stare at him, not knowing how to process his words.

“You also cried when I sat beside you on the plane.”

He remembered.

The realization struck you hard, almost like a physical blow. A part of you had convinced yourself that he barely noticed you, that any memory involving you was erased from his mind. But here he was, recalling not just any memory, but your first week when you joined the team, right down to the color of your lips.

“You…” The frown on your face deepened. “You remembered.”

There was a pause as he looked at you, his eyes carefully assessing your reaction. “It’s hard not to."

You held his gaze. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you were still on good terms. Would you smile at him now? Would you tell him that, yes, you also remembered how he allowed you to lean on his shoulder during that flight back home, despite the awkwardness of your first meeting when it seemed he’d rather keep his distance?

You shook your head, looking away from him. It was wishful thinking. Letting yourself dwell on what could have been would only lead to another heartbreak. You had learned to protect yourself, to keep your distance, because hoping for a return to those days would only make the present hurt more.

“Right,” you said, trying to keep your composure as you gripped the folder in your hand. “I forgot you have an eidetic memory.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you, a quiet, lingering gaze that you felt more than saw. The room suddenly felt incredibly small, the walls seeming to close in around you as your fingers fumbled slightly with the papers, grabbing another file.

You needed to get out of here. You needed to regain control. The faster you finish your work, the sooner you can escape him.

IV. The Table For Two

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” You pressed, arms linked with JJ as you both walked down the sidewalk, your stride matching the quick tempo of your rising irritation. The accusation in your voice was clear, but JJ just offered a casual shrug, avoiding direct eye contact.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You expect me to believe it was an accident?” Your skepticism was palpable, and you watched as a small smirk played at the corner of her lips. “That the door coincidentally locked itself when we were both inside?”

“The doors are old,” she said, keeping her gaze forward, her steps even and unhurried. “You know how it is, sometimes if you even just shut them too hard, they jam. Could happen to anyone.”

Her tone was too nonchalant, too practiced, and you tugged on her arm, pulling her to a stop. “Right, and I suppose it was also just chance that the door closed by itself?”

JJ paused, finally facing you with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t do it.”

“Then somebody did.”

“Y/N,” she replied, her smile broadening in a way that only heightened your irritation. “Nobody did.”

You groaned, resuming your walk as you pulled her along. “You guys are so annoying.”

JJ laughed. “How did you get out of there anyway?”

You sighed, the memory of the escape bringing a frown to your face. The entire time you were locked in that room, you had done everything possible to avoid talking to him, focusing on shuffling through files and pretending to be absorbed in the work.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence and strained small talk, you both gave up trying to ignore the situation and started moving around the cramped space, phones held high, desperately trying to find a signal. When you finally managed to get a single bar, you quickly dialed Penelope, who answered with her usual upbeat tone, clearly amused by your predicament.

"We had to call Garcia to let us out,” you said, your tone dry. “She found the whole thing hilarious."

JJ's laughter grew as she imagined the scene. "She would have loved that. Probably made her day to rescue the two of you."

“She’s already teasing us about it.”

Her laughter slowly died down as she gave your arm a light tug. “Did anything happen while you two were in there?”

You hesitated, recalling the awkward silence, the shuffling of papers, and that brief, tensed exchange. “Not really,” you admitted. “We just tried to organize the files without screaming at each other.”

“But did you talk at all? I mean, really talk?”

“Jennifer,” you warned, the tone of your voice hinting that she was treading on uncomfortable territory. The thought of delving deeper into what had—or hadn’t—happened in that room was not something you were eager to talk about.

“I know, I know, it’s complicated,” she conceded. “Just thought it seemed like a good opportunity to maybe clear the air between you two.”

“Well, you thought wrong. There’s nothing to talk about.”

JJ looked at you skeptically, her eyes narrowing slightly as if she could see right through your defenses. She seemed on the verge of pushing further, but then her phone rang, interrupting the moment. She glanced at the screen and sighed, giving you an apologetic look. "Hold on, I need to take this. It's Will."

You nodded and watched as she stepped a few feet away to answer the call. You waited and tried to give her privacy, but it was hard when her words were clear as you listened to her talk, and the more she spoke, the more you narrowed your eyes at her.

“…right now… sure… no, it’s fine… I can be there in ten… of course, honey...”

You crossed your arms when JJ finally ended the call and turned back towards you.

"I need to head home,” she said, a bit too casually. “Will got called into work unexpectedly.”

Suspicion started to creep in as you processed her words. The timing was impeccable—a little too perfect. You both were supposed to meet up with Penelope and Derek for dinner, and it was almost guaranteed that Spencer would be there too, considering Derek had taken it upon himself to drag him along at any given chance under the pretense that ‘the kid needs to go out more’.

But the thought of JJ bailing on you on such short notice seemed out of pocket, even for her.

"Really, right now?" you asked, narrowing your eyes slightly. She shifted on her feet, her smile a bit forced. “Is everything okay?”

JJ nodded, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—something that looked more like amusement than guilt. "Yeah, I just need to get home to the kids. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

The more she spoke, the more your suspicion grew. Her demeanor seemed too casual, almost rehearsed, as if she was trying to assure you while simultaneously eager to leave. It felt like she was in on some inside joke that you weren't aware of.

“Well, if you really have to go…”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” JJ flashed a quick, almost relieved smile and gave you a hurried kiss on the cheek. “Have a good time tonight, and fill me in on all the details later.”

“Details? What details?” You called after her but she was already walking away. “JJ! Why do I have to fill you in the details?”

She simply waved a hand without turning back, leaving you standing there with a growing sense of unease. You slowly resumed your walk, taking out your phone to call Penelope but stopped in your tracks when you saw a message from her, sent five minutes ago.

Hey, Sweetie, so sorry I can’t make it to dinner tonight! Something urgent came up. Have fun without me :)

Your stomach dropped as you read the message. First JJ, and now Garcia? It was starting to feel like you were being abandoned, or worse, you were being set up. You glanced around, half expecting to see Derek lurking in the shadows with a mischievous grin, orchestrating this whole fiasco.

It wasn’t until you arrived at the restaurant and spotted Spencer alone at the entrance, trying to avoid any immediate contact with the other patrons, that you realized your suspicion was confirmed. The pieces clicked together almost too neatly, and the man seemed as surprised to see you as you were to see him.

His discomfort was evident as he adjusted his stance, gripping the strap of his bag, eyes darting to you as you approached him.

“Morgan’s late,” he announced as a greeting.

“He’s not coming,” you said, unable to keep the annoyance from creeping into your voice. “And neither is JJ or Penny.”

“He told you that?”

“No,” you replied with a sigh. “But it’s pretty obvious now, isn’t it?”

"What is?"

“That we’ve been set up,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “They’re not coming, and I’m willing to bet they never planned to.”

He frowned, his brows knitting together. “You think they did this on purpose? Why would they—”

“Come on, Reid,” you interrupted. “They’ve been nudging us to talk for weeks. What better way than to leave us no choice?”

Spencer’s gaze hardened slightly. “I don’t need to be manipulated into having a conversation,” he said sharply.

“And you think I do?” You retorted. “I’m not exactly thrilled about being tricked into a dinner date either, if that’s what this is supposed to be.”

“It’s not a date,” Spencer replied quickly, almost defensively.

“Well, that’s one thing we agree on,” you snapped, then sighed, trying to rein in your temper. “Look, I don’t want to argue. Let’s just forget this ever happened and go home.”

There was a pause as Spencer looked around, his eyes settling back on you. “You want to go home?”

“You don’t?”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “I mean, we’re already here. Might as well stay and eat. It’s not like I have any better plans.”

You blinked, taken aback by his response. A part of you had expected him to jump at the chance to escape, but here he was, suggesting you to stay.

It seemed like a bad idea. The tension, the potential for awkward silences, the possibility of yet another argument—it all pointed to leaving being the better option. But against our better judgment, you found yourself considering his suggestion more than you wanted to admit.

Maybe it was the hunger gnawing at your stomach, or perhaps it was the realization that leaving now would only make things more awkward the next time you saw each other. Dinner with Spencer was the last option you’d choose, but it was better than coming home to an empty fridge.

“Fine,” you finally said, brushing past him. “But you’re paying.”

Spencer looked momentarily surprised but then nodded. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked into the restaurant, but immediately stopped in your tracks when you took in the setting. This wasn’t just a restaurant, it was a place designed for dates. The realization made you pause as you looked around the room in horror.

The dim lighting cast a soft glow on polished wood and fine china, while a gentle melody played subtly in the background, setting an unmistakable romantic mood. Just as you were taking in the scene, a hostess approached with a warm, inviting smile. 

"A table for two?" 

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you realized how the evening was poised to look. Turning slightly to gauge Spencer's reaction, you found him even more flustered, his face turning a shade redder as he stammered a response. "Uh, yes, that's—um, that will be fine."

The hostess nodded and led you to a small, intimate table near the window. Spencer fidgeted with the strap of his bag as you both sat down, his eyes darting around the room before finally settling on you. "This is... not exactly what I expected.”

You took the menu from the hostess before she left you both alone. “I’m going to kill them,” you muttered, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a bit extreme.”

You sighed, flipping through the menu without really seeing it. “They’re always meddling. They don’t know when to stop. I'm also convinced that being locked earlier was also part of their plan. And this—this is just so...” 

“Annoying?” He offered.

“Infuriating,” you emphasized, throwing your hands up. “It’s infuriating. And embarrassing. And—”

“And yet, here we are,” he cut in, feeling the same way. Spencer paused for a moment, then leaned in slightly, sending you a pointed look. “You know, maybe we should just give them what they want.”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s a fact that humans are generally satisfied when they get what they want. And since what our friends want is for the two of us to get along, maybe we should just... pretend that we do.”

“Reid,” you pressed, mirroring his posture as you leaned forward. “They don’t want us to just get along. Look around us. They want us to really get along.” 

Spencer paused, considering your words, his gaze lingering on the candlelit table and the other couples around, deep in conversation. He seemed to realize the full extent of the setup, the romantic undertone that wasn't simply incidental but intentional.

“You’re right,” he finally responded, leaning back in his seat. “Forget what I said. It was stupid.”

You studied him as he opened the menu, the candlelight casting a soft glow on his face. He was right. Not only was it stupid, it was crazy. Pretending to be civil with him was one thing, pretending that you shared some kind of unspoken, lingering feelings was another thing. The mere thought of it made your heart race, but you couldn’t tell if it was from anxiety or nervousness.

You quickly shook your head. It was ridiculous. How could you even begin to pretend to have feelings for someone with whom you shared such a complicated past? How could you act like there was something more between you when the reality was so different?

The whole idea was far-fetched, almost laughable. You couldn’t imagine yourself romantically involved with him, even if it was just for pretend.

[charliemwrites]

A reader x Simon commission piece I just recently finished for my sweet bean N.W. I had a lot of fun writing a little scenario I never would have thought up on my own!

(Reader is described with FAB anatomy, but no gendered pronouns are used. No sensitive content warnings, just spice.)

It’s a perfect day.

The sun is a bright golden marble in a perfect jewel sky, toasting the sand into a powdery bed. There are only wisps of flossy cloud to interrupt the light, a feathery salt-soaked breeze to soften the edge of heat. The water is nothing but lazy ripples, foamy waves crawling up the coastline before slithering back.

And your coworker is soaking wet.

When you first signed on as a lifeguard, you didn’t expect more than some extra pocket money. A little financial cushion while you finished working through your master’s program. A chance to get some sunshine instead of holing up in your room. Maybe the occasional bit of eye candy while you fished children out of the shallows and fussed at families for littering around the barbecue grills.

You didn’t expect Simon “Walking Wet Dream” Riley. (Okay, that’s not his actual nickname – apparently it’s “Ghost.” Because of course it is.) You didn’t expect his big, fuck-off muscles, or his perfect sun-bleached hair, or the dark ink of his tattoos, or…

Well.

You got more than just eye candy when Mister Price hired you. Simon is a whole damn feast. Especially when he’s fresh from a cool-down swim, red trunks weighed down by water and tides, revealing the tantalizing curves of his hips. Droplets skittering over the bulges and divots of his body, sparkling in the sun…

“Excuse me?”

You try not to jolt, head jerking to the guy that hopefully hasn’t been standing there too long. He looks about your age, maybe a bit older. Wavy, chin-length brown hair and eyes nearly as blue as the water. Pretty, in a young Instagram prince kind of way. Maybe your type in another time – the time Before Simon.

“Hi,” you say quickly, “did you need something?”

“Do you have any plasters?” he asks. “My little brother scraped his knee.”

You glance at the kid shuffling just behind him, his knees dirtied and one red with a bit of blood. Nothing serious, you determine, but could use some first aid.

“Oh, poor thing!” you say. “C’mon, we have some bandages in the shack.”

You wave to get Simon’s attention, make the quick hand-sign indicating you’ll be gone for a moment. He notices you, the two boys, then nods and makes his way back to his usual lookout spot.

The shack is a quiet, cool oasis away from the heat. You’ve dozed off next to the mist fan more times than you care to admit, only to be woken by Simon pressing a cold water bottle to your cheek. It used to annoy you, but now you appreciate the reminder to hydrate.

There’s a robust first aid kit in one of the cabinets, though you groan a bit when you see how high Simon’s stashed it this time. Damned tall man; you could swear he does it on purpose. You try to reach it on your toes, but when that doesn’t work, you jump a bit. Still no luck. You’re going to have to get the stepstool at this rate.

“Here, I’ve got it.”

You jump a bit as Insta-Prince comes up behind you, sliding in close before you can scoot out of the way. He stretches his arm over your head, tugging the kit down from the shelf. When you glance up – concerned about something falling on you – you find him smirking down at you.

“Thanks,” you say trying not to snatch it out of his hands.

“Seems like an… inconvenient place to put that,” he muses.

You sit the younger brother on a plastic chair near the door and kneel, kit open on the floor. “We usually keep it lower… I think Simon forgets I’m shorter than him.”

The kid winces a bit at the sting of wound wash but puts on a brave face when you smile at him.

“Seems pretty rude. Is he hard to work with?” Insta-Prince asks.

You hesitate, trying to think of how to respond. Simon was intimidating, at first. Dark eyes and stoic expression, he was difficult to read. Always within a stone’s throw, you used to feel like he was hovering. Like he didn’t think you could do your job right.

Over the months, though, that insecurity has bridged into a tentative friendship. Even if he’s not talkative himself, he lets you chat to your heart’s content. Keeps you hydrated, reminds you to eat snacks and apply sunscreen. Even handles the rowdier beachgoers when they break rules, his bigger stature and sharp glare enough to cow even the most entitled people.

“No, he’s—”

“What’s the hold up?”

You glance up at Simon’s broad form angled in the shack’s doorway. His eyes aren’t on you or the kid, though. They’re on Insta-Prince – standing a little close to you, now that you’re not focused on the younger brother.

“Just finishing up,” you answer, smoothing a waterproof bandage over the scrape. “You did great, buddy, high five!”

That earns you a little smile and the requested high-five as the kid hops out of the chair. When you stand, Simon’s eyes flick to you. Darker than deep water, something swimming within that you can discern from the surface. It makes you fidgety, like you’ve been caught out doing something you shouldn’t.

“Remember to log it,” he rumbles.

“On it!” You lean over the wooden counter to pluck the clipboard from the wall on the other side, relieved that someone put the pen back for once.

“So, you have to write down all the injuries people get?” Insta-Prince asks, trying for casual conversation. The air feels oddly stifling, and gets worse when he settles closer, peeking around to see the sheet.

“Just if we use medical supplies,” you answer, scribbling quickly.

“Lifeguards only in the shack, kid,” Simon interrupts. “Get moving.”

You try not to snort in amusement. While Simon might tolerate you, he’s got a general disdain for most beachgoers – ironic considering how adamant he is about safety. But he seems to find the average person a nuisance to be constantly monitored and herded away from trouble. Like a shepherd with a flock of particularly stupid sheep.

“My brother was hurt, man, give me a break,” Insta-Prince protests, annoyed.

“And now he’s not,” Simon replies. “You should catch up with him. Kids need to be watched, isn’t that right, sunshine?”

You hum absently in agreement, signing off on the injury log with your initials. There’s a beat of silence that itches at the back of your mind. When you look up, Simon’s arching an eyebrow at the guy, thick arms crossed across his barrel chest.

Sir, firearms are not allowed on the beach, you think, before wrenching your eyes from Simon’s biceps.

“Did you need anything else?” you ask Insta-Prince.

“Just what time you get off work,” he replies, giving you big, soft, hopeful eyes.

You blink, a bit shocked. Flirting happens rarely for you, except maybe platonically with Soap or Gaz. To be fair, you’re not exactly the female lifeguard idol that most people would fantasize about. Half the time you jog around in shorts and a rash-guard, more comfortable in unisex swimwear and keeping the worst of the sun off yourself. Helpful to avoid wardrobe malfunctions if a panicking swimmer grabs at you.

Besides, you’re not really looking to get hit on. Hard to keep an eye out for emergencies if someone’s chatting your ear off for a shag by the restrooms. (You didn’t think people really did that until Farah groaned about it at the bonfire when you first hired.) Still, now that it’s happening… you don’t hate it. This guy is objectively attractive, apparently cares about his younger sibling enough to get him first-aid, and is weathering Simon’s increasingly annoyed scowl.

You figure there’s no harm. Not like someone else is showing a similar interest.

“At sunset,” you answer. “So, uh…”

“6:30,” Simon offers.

You shoot him a grateful look as the kid begins scooting for the door, skirting around Simon’s wider, thicker frame. Christ, the difference is stark. You tug at the front of your rash-guard to relieve some of the sudden heat.

“Maybe I’ll see you then,” he says before disappearing around the corner.

You stare after him for a second. He didn’t even ask for your name. “Huh.”

“The hell was that, sunshine?” Simon grouses.

You turn to him and shrug. “No idea.”

“Really now?” he scoffs.

You shake your head, already agitated by the whole thing for no reason you can pinpoint. Lean over the counter again to hang up the clipboard. “Really.”

“This isn’t a place for your silly summer fantasies and little meet-cutes,” he growls. “This is a real job, with real lives on the line.”

You twist around, brows furrowed as your mouth drops open in offense. “I know that.”

“Do you? Then why the fuck were you in here flirting?”

“I was helping the kid,” you argue, “you saw him!”

“Real convenient, that. When the older one’s been eye-fucking you all damn day.”

Any snappy retorts drown in the shock of his crass language and the accusation. All day? That guy? And Simon noticed? Never mind all that – Simon would seriously think you’d use a kid’s injury as an excuse to… what? Get cozy with an attractive stranger while on duty?

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you huff, “but I need to get back out there.”

As you pass, a big, rough hand snaps out and catches your elbow. You come up short, half-turning towards him, face hot. Equal parts angry and ashamed for some reason. Summer romance your ass.

“Get it together,” he orders.

You click your tongue at him. “Same to you.”

You wrench your arm back and storm out onto the sand, snatching your floatie from the shack railing along the way. Don’t know what jellyfish stung his ass, but you hope he figures it out. Don’t think your self-esteem can take another round of… whatever that was.

The rest of the day passes tense and slow. Without Simon to talk to, and the beach relatively peaceful, you’re left to fixate on the incident in the shack. What was that about? You thought for sure you’d grown on Simon a bit. Sure, you’re one of the younger lifeguards, which is why Price assigned you to Simon’s post, but you’ve worked hard. You thought you’d proven yourself.

Checking your watch, you find that it’s nearly 6:30. The sun doesn’t seem that low yet, but the beach got empty while you were idly keeping watch. Might as well pack it in, you figure.

Not even thinking of Insta-Prince when you hop up the little wooden steps to the shack. Simon isn’t back from wherever he’s monitoring yet, and you’d like to be clear before that changes. Just in case he’s still in a bad mood.

You shed your blue swim-shorts and rash-guard on the counter, leaving you in the more standard one-piece. Roll your shoulders a bit uncomfortably, itching to squeeze into your binder after a day with tits-out. You’ve gotten accustomed to the sensation of leaving it off for the job, but you’d still prefer to wear it when safe.

You flop onto the counter, reaching over the side to fish your bag out from its cubby. Of course, that’s the exact moment that you hear Simon’s heavy step on that creaky board by the doorway.

“Bloody hell,” you think you hear him mutter.

“I’m just about to head out,” you assure him.

“Meeting up with that knob?”

Your temper flares. You abandon your bag and land on your feet, spinning around. Come up (very) short when Simon’s right there, not enough room to breathe without your chests brushing. But you don’t allow yourself to be deterred.

“So, what if I am?” you challenge.

His eyes darken, then narrow. “This isn’t a game you want to play, sunshine.”

“Maybe I do,” you insist, planting your hands on your hips.

He exhales slow and heavy, boxes you in against the counter with hands on either side of you. Your stupid, traitorous heart skips a beat, then trips into double time. Normally he wears a rash-guard too, but not today. No, today it’s swathes of tanned, scarred skin. And it’s so, so close to yours.

“You won’t win,” he warns.

Your tongue feels heavy and clumsy, maybe because your thoughts feel the same way. Now, you’re not always the most aware of “signals,” but there aren’t many other ways to interpret someone near-pinning you to a counter with smoldering eyes.

You scramble to review the earlier confrontation through a new lens. The way Simon glared at Insta-Prince, not you – until you seemed open to his interest. Oh. Ohhhh.

You wet your lips; the way his eyes lock onto the movement bolsters your courage.

“What if… I don’t want to win?” you ask.

His eyes dart up to yours, something a little sharper than longing when he whispers, “I’d make you a sore loser.”

An unexpected laugh bursts out of you; his teeth flash in a crooked smile as he scoops you up so easily. He sits you on edge of the counter and steps between your thighs, pelvis bumping against yours. You gasp, head dropping to stare wide-eyed at the frankly monstrous bulge in his trunks.

“W-wow,” you mumble faintly, thighs squeezing around his hips.

“C’mere, sunshine,” he growls, cupping your jaw.

You tilt your face up, sigh softly as his mouth slots over yours. He tastes like blue powerade and sea salt, tongue curling against yours when you grant him enthusiastic access.

Your hands make scattered, eager work of exploring him, unsure where you want to touch first, just that you have to. He’s as solid as you always expected, densely packed muscle under healthy, hydrated layers of fat. Sun-warm beneath your palms, shudders as your skim them dangerously close low on his twitching abdomen.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging gently at the shoulder strap of your swimsuit.

“Yeah,” you mumble, wriggling closer.

He huffs in amusement, peeling the elastic material over your arms and down your chest while you scatter kisses over his jaw and neck. You gasp into his peck when his calloused thumbs brush your hard nipples. Just a small touch, yet electricity is racing up and down your spine.

“This alright?” he checks.

You hum the affirmative, pressing into his touch as he pinches and rolls the sensitive peaks, slow searching. Reclaims your mouth to swallow each and every little mewl and moan that spills off your tongue. You can’t help rocking against him, hot and hard through the thin layers of swimwear.

“Simon,” you whine against his mouth, “c’mon.”

“Impatient,” he teases, nipping your bottom lip.

“You’ve kept me waiting long enough,” you complain, tugging at his trunks.

“I know, sunshine,” he coos, “just wait a bit longer.”

He takes the tiniest step back, fingers hooking in your swimsuit again to roll it the rest of the way off. You lift your hips to help, nearly squirming as strings of slick web between the fabric and your pussy. But Simon seems hypnotized, snapping the strands with his fingers and following them back to your swollen cunt.

“Fuck, all this for me, baby?” he rasps.

You make an embarrassed noise – which quickly graduates into an alarmed squeal when he drops to his knees.

“Simon, wait, I’ve been working all day and—”

“Don’ give a fuck,” he growls, “I’ve been dying to taste you for weeks.”

He yanks your thighs over his big, strong shoulders and dives in. It’s messy and obscenely loud, filling up the tiny shack and all the empty space in your head. Would be embarrassing if you had any room for something so frivolous. Instead, you’re gone on the way he sucks your clit and laps thirstily at your entrance. Utterly obsessed with the deep, throaty groans that leave you throbbing.

It's been a while, true, but you know he’d have you on edge so fast regardless. And he does, rushing up on it like a building, rolling wave. The devastating kind that’ll drown you in unyielding currents.

“Wait, wait,” you squeak, tugging at his coarse hair.

To his credit, he stops instantly, though he sounds absolutely gutted about it. Pulls back licking his lips like a cat with cream, chin practically dripping.

“Alright?” he asks, voice shredded to ribbons.

“I just,” you pant, “I just w-wasn’t ready to – to… I wanna cum on your cock. Please, Si?”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He surges up, pressing you down flat to kiss you stupid(er) and senseless. The taste of you isn’t as offensive as you expected, not coming from his tongue. “You’ll get anything you want if you keep talking like that.”

“Just want you.”

He helps you off the counter, drags you by the wrist to the plastic chair by the doorway. You’re about to protest – no way can that chair support someone his size, never mind both of you. But then he’s spinning you around, crushing you to his chest, and yanking you down into his lap. Any such nonsense as good sense dissolves like a sandcastle.

You can feel the length of him pressing hot and a little wet against your spine. (So, so high up your spine, good god). When he freed himself from his swim-trunks, you’re not sure, nor do you care at this moment. Your priorities narrow down to one absolute necessity: getting him inside you now, now, now.

“Easy now, baby, don’t hurt yourself,” he purrs in your ear. “Let me help.”

He curls big hands around your hips, tight enough that you relish the bruises that may bloom there later. Supports your weight as if it’s nothing to him, propping you over his lap as you line up his cock, dragging the flushed head through your pooling wetness. He curses low and rough, sinking you down until the tip catches on your entrance.

“There we are,” he grits, hands flexing in your soft flesh. “Nice and slow now, sunshine.”

If you had your way, he’d already be balls deep in your aching pussy. But his grip is firm and unrelenting, lowering you inch by thick inch down his shaft. You back and squeeze around him, encouraging him deeper, faster, helpless little noises escaping from your gaping mouth.

“That’s it, halfway there,” he breathes. “Doing so well.”

You choke. Halfway?! You already feel stuffed, walls gripping every contour of his cock like you were made for him.

He twitches inside you, bulbous, leaking head grinding deliciously, and your resolve cracks right down the middle. You dig your nails into his thighs and slam your hips down, crying out as he buries deep inside. Can feel him nudging your cervix, stretching your silky walls, all the way down to where your opening is sealed tight around the base of him.

“Fuck,” he snarls.

“F-feels so good,” you whimper, head falling forward as you clench around him.

Oh, you are definitely going to be so perfectly sore after this. You can’t fucking wait.

“If you’re that impatient to be ruined,” he chuckles breathlessly, “best brace yourself, lovie.”

You barely manage to get your feet planted before he’s fucking up into you, hard and mean. Just what you want, what you need. Your head falls back to cry your pleasure to the shack roof as you bounce. Rocking your hips each time he bottoms out, grinding him against that spongy bundle of nerves inside you. It’s mind-numbing; you’re leaking around him, know it must be dripping onto the floor at this point.

He snakes a hand around to your front. Brushes where the two of you are connected, the strange and dangerous sensation making tears prick at your eyes. Then his fingers skip up to your needy, oversensitive clit. You almost want to stop him, already so overwhelmed with pleasure. But again, anything like coherent thought is ripped away on a tide of ecstasy when he begins rubbing quick, tight circles.

Your rhythm faulters at the new stimulation, but Simon just widens his stance. It changes the angle, drags the head so perfectly against your g-spot. With the hand still on your hip, he starts jerking you down to meet each thrust. It’s slightly slower, but so much sweeter, combined with the rhythm he’s strumming on your clit.

Your orgasm rises like a tsunami, higher and higher, a devastating force building up inside.

“Simon,” you keen, “Simon, I’m gonna – right there…”

“That’s it, sunshine. Get me nice and wet with your cum.”

That voice, saying such filth in your ear, sends you over the edge. You nearly convulse, eyes rolling back in your head as you scream. Back arching, writhing and gripping crescents into his thighs. And you can feel yourself gushing all over him, onto the floor.

“Yes, yes, fuck, just like that.”

You’re near limp as he keeps hammering into you, practically using you like a toy to get himself off. The thought alone makes you squeeze around him again, a powerful aftershock bringing another flood of wetness. Your head lolls back against his shoulder, crying into his ear, begging him to cum inside you, fill you up…

He crashes his mouth into yours as he cums, groaning into your lax mouth, jerking violently into your overstimulated pussy. You swear you can feel him spurting inside you, thick and white-hot. It feels… it feels…

You break the kiss to suck in a deep breath, lightheaded and still squeaky with pleasure. Simon trails soothing kisses over your shoulder, grip easing up to caress over the forming finger marks. You hum softly, voice husky. Flutter your eyes open and blink at the pink sky out the window.

“Is it… is it just now sunset?” you ask.

Simon chuckles against your ear. “Looks like I was about thirty minutes off. Whoops.”

[unoislazy]

Masterlist

Oldest to newest

(The only things out of order are the Headcanons which can all be found at the same spot, specifically for BES)

If I did it correctly you should be able to click the underlined places and they’ll send you right to the story!

Special Information

Request Information

Y'all will never believe what I forgot to add

RDR 2

How To Aim

Arthur Morgan x Reader

One Part

Th actual fic that started it all

————————————————————

HTTYD

Question? What Question?

Hiccup x Reader

Part 1

Word Count: 1.2k

Summary: Hiccup accidentally lets it slip that his father is expecting him to ask someone a question. Who could that someone be… and what’s the question?

Part 2

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: You and Hiccup go out to figure out where that smokes coming from. You decide to return back to Berk to tell Stoick what you saw. However, Stoick had other plans in mind.

Somethings Off About That Boy

Hiccup x Reader

Part 1

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Hiccup has always been weird but lately he’s been acting… weirder than usual. What could he be hiding? Maybe you should try to find out on your own. Who knows, maybe he’s just going to the woods to make weird outfits.

Hiccup Haddock Headcanons

Word Count:459

Hiccup x reader headcanons : just general ones, no specific focus.

What Can Never Be

Hiccup Haddock x Reader

One Part

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: You and Hiccup fight together during the battle against Drago Bludvist, what could go wrong?

Warning: a bit of angst

Trapped With You

Hiccup x Reader

One Part

Word Count: 3.4K

Warnings: if you’re prone to second hand embarrassment this one’s gonna be a doozy

A Dragon Trappers Fate

Eret son of Eret x Reader

Part 1

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: You’re forced to tag along on the quest to find Hiccup after he went off, determined to find Drago. While you there you happen to stumble across a certain dragon trapper. You feel… weird when you look at him. Why?

Part 2

Word Count: 1.7k Words

Summary: you thought you’d only have to see Eret once and never again, that way that weird feeling you got when you looked at him would disappear. Well, turns out you need him again so you an find out where Drago Bludvist is located. No one better to interrogate than a dragon trapper.

Just Talk To Me!

Hiccup x Reader

One Part

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You and Eret have gotten pretty close due to your constant fighting practice. Of course, a certain chief isn’t too happy about it but he has a bit of trouble trying to tell you this.

The Outsider

Hiccup Haddock x Reader

(Shocker I Know)

Part 1

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You wound up on the shores of Berk after something… had happened to you. Thankfully someone had found you and reported your presence to the Chief.

Part 2

————————————————————

Blue Eye Samurai

Spar With Me

Mizu x Reader

Part one

Word Count: 2.7k

Part Two

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Not much sparring actually happens this time. But you still somehow wind up in an embarrassing position.

Disclaimers: light language, has not been proofread, shorter and way more embarrassing than the last chapter

Part Three

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: after dealing with a situation in town, Mizu helps you calm down a bit.

Disclaimer; a small bit of violence

Healing Takes Time

Injured! Mizu x Reader

One Part

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: you’re just a simple healer minding your business, avoiding a fight that had broken out along your street when suddenly an extremely wounded strange man ends up at your door.

Disclaimers; very soft angst, nothing too bad.

Part Two

Jealousy Looks Good On You

Mizu x Jealous!Reader

One Part

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You and Mizu have been close friends for quite some time. You truly enjoyed each others company, that was until Taigen showed up.

Disclaimers; light language, has not been proofread, I am currently delirious from packing and moving all day but I had to write this out to feed the starved mizu lovers. A fair amount may not make sense at this point in time. My apologies ❤️

'Til The Caged Bird Sings

Mizu x Mixed! Fem! Reader

Part One

Part Two

Word Count: 3.9k

Content Warning: Contains violence and mentions of SA

Part Three

Cw: A bit bloody, mentions of SA

Headcannons

Mizu Dating Headcanons

Mizu Fluff Headcanons

Jealous Mizu Headcanons

BES Characters and pets

BES College Au

NSFW Mizu Headcanons

Fucking Brat

Mizu X reader

Part One

Disclaimer: light cursing obvious

Heated but no NSFW

Your Touch

Mizu x Reader

One Part

I lied, here's

Part Two

Fem! Reader

a bit heated, but doesn't go all the way

I Am No Coward

Mizu x Fem! Reader

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Art

Mizu Drawings 1

Mizu Drawings 2

Mizu Drawings 3

Mizu Drawings 4

Mizu Drawings 5

Mizu Doodle (w/ Progress picture)

Mizu Drawings 6

Mizu Drawings 7

Mizu Drawings 8

Mizu Drawings 9

————————————————————

ARCANE

Promises

Vi x Reader

Part One

Childhood Friends to Lovers

Part Two

Childhood Friends to Lovers...

Part Three

Childhood Friends to...?

Part Four

Friends?

Changes

Vi X Reader

Vi needs a hug

School Time Crush

Vi x Fem!reader

Vi is a dork

For Me?

Vi x Piltover! Reader

You did this for me?

[rekino2114]

ok hear me out female Zenitsu Agatsuma simping for male reader

Fem. Zenitsu simping for male reader

A/n:art by stormin on pinterest. Zenitsu's name will stay the same...I don't know if that makes sense but I can't think of anything

You took a deep breath as you looked around you. You were finally back after a long mission, and you wanted nothing more than to relax

"Oh hey y/n!, you're back, how was the mission?"

"Hi tanjiro, it went well. The demon wasn't that strong, but it was still kinda tough. Do you know where Shinobu is?"

"Oh, she's probab-"

"Y/NNNNNNNN!!!!!!"

You two turned to see the rest of the kamaboko squad coming towards you, especially zenitsu who ran and tackled you into a hug

"I'm so happy you're back, I thought the demon ate you"

"Come on, zenitsu, did you think so little of me? No demon that weak could take me down"

"Y-yeah sorry, you're so strong, the strongest demon slayer I've ever seen, no demon could defeat you"

You blushed slightly from the praise and was about to thank her when you heard a groan

"Hmph! W/n (wrong name) Isn't that strong, I bet I could beat him in no time"

"Shut up, boar head, you don't know what you're talking about, y/n would wipe the floor with you"

"Really? Now I'm interested, hey w/n let's spar!"

".....A-actually, I just came back from a mission and-"

"Yeah leave him alone, y/n's probably so tired"

"Who cares? I wanna fight"

"I-inosuke, zenitsu, please calm down"

As tanjiro tried his best to calm the argument between his friends, you walked near genya and kanao

"Hi man, good to see you again"

"Hi, genya you too. kanao, do you mind telling me where your sister is?"

"...........Shinobu should be in the butterfly mansion, she's tending to other injured slayers"

"You didn't even use your coin, that's great, I'm proud of you"

You pat the shorter girl's head as she smiled slightly and you left to go where she told you, while you couldn't hear the commotion going on behind you

"Waaaaaaahhhhh *sobs*"

"Z-zenitsu what's going on?"

"D-did you see what y/n did to kanao, he pat her head, he never did that to me *sobs* y/n loves kanao"

"That's not true, y/n does not love me"

"*sobs* How dare you say that? Why did he do that then?"

"Oh it was because I didn't flip my coin to answer him"

"...........really?"

"Yeah, I can confirm that's what happened"

The blonde girl completely changed her attitude and jumped in the air

"Yay! That means I still have a chance"

"Sorry zenitsu, but might I say something? If you love y/n this much, why don't you just tell him?"

"Are you crazy? If I tell him and he doesn't reciprocate then I'll never be able to look him in the eyes again"

"........I.....see"

"Coward"

"Hey!......anyway, w-where did y/n go?"

"The butterfly mansion"

"Really? Great!"

Zenitsu disappeared so fast her friends thought she used her thunder breathing for a second

"Why did she go there anyway?"

"No idea"

Meanwhile in the butterfly mansion Shinobu was checking your wounds while you lied on a bed

"Alright y/n, if you're OK with that, do you mind taking your shirt off for me? I need to check if you have other injuries"

"Sure thing"

You did as she told you, but in that moment, you heard a squeal and the sound of something falling

"Hm? What was that?"

"I don't know, I'll check later"

"Ok"

Meanwhile on the other side of the door tanjiro found zenitsu on the ground with a bloody nose

"S-so muscular, I think I'm in heaven"

"........we really need to work on that"

[sucroseswife]

Seriously, don’t break the law

Wriothesley x gn! Reader [part 1]

Wriothesley with a reader who keeps breaking the law on accident, continuously getting multiple small sentences. Despite being a relatively good citizen, your run ins with Furina’s more obscure laws repeatedly lands you in the Fortress.

It started off small. Wriothesley didn’t pay much attention to your first arrival, as he receives many criminals every day. You were in for the small offense of naming your dog “furina”, thinking it would be cute.

He got a good laugh out of reading your trial record though. You had no attorney and no defense other than demanding why such a stupid rule was even in place (“it’s not even offensive!” You had cried to the court to no avail)

Poor Neuvillette said nothing, sentencing you to 2 nights at the fortress of meropide with a sigh

(He had found you later, offering a small apology and suggesting you read up on Fontaine’s… stranger laws to avoid such accidents again.)

During your two night stay, you only met the duke once—

You peaked your head into the infirmary, subtly trying to check if this was the right room. The cut on your hand throbbed with pain but you ignored it the best you could. Those machines were more dangerous than you thought. Inside were two figures, one significantly shorter than the other.

…was that a kid? You honestly couldn’t tell, but she looked no older than 11. Perhaps she was the child of that much taller figure who was- quite good looking, actually-

“Gonna stand there all day?” The good looking man asked, raising an eyebrow. Fuck.

“Sorry!” You said, rushing in. “Are you, uh… the nurse?”

Before he could respond, your attention was drawn to the smaller figure who swiftly took your hand, an expression of concern on her face.

“I am the head nurse, Sigewine. Please have a seat and I’ll start treatment right away!”

You couldn’t help but swoon over how cute the little melusine was, her professionalism contrasting her appearance. As she ran away to fetch some gauze, your eyes trailed back to mr. Tall Hot Man. He was observing you silently. When you met his gaze, he smiled in a wolfish manner.

“You’re y/n, I take it?”

You nodded. “And you are…?”

“Wrioth-” “He’s the Duke of the fortress of meropide, Wriothesley!” Sigewine butted in, beginning to clean your wounds. You paled. Had you really been thinking about your warden like a piece of meat? …maybe you were a criminal after all.

Wriothesley looked mildly annoyed at being outed as the Duke, but quickly let it go. His smile returned.

“I’ve read your file… seems you’re only with us for another day. We don’t usually see such short sentences around here.”

“Oh, yes… well I hardly committed a crime at all!” you said, anger and indignation returning to you once more.

“Hm…” he said, pretending to consider. “breaking the law is breaking the law, I’m afraid.” Wriothesley took great satisfaction n the way you spluttered, rushing to defend yourself.

“No really, what kind of laws are these?! Even the Iudex couldn’t explain— and the legal codex he gave me… ‘ketchup shall only be used as a condiment and not consumed by itself’? Are you serious?”

Wriothesley wanted to laugh at the image of the overworked Chief Justice having to enforce Furina’s questionable laws, but held back. Sigewine had finished her work, patting your hand gently.

“Y/n, please use this medicine to clean your wound twice a day. And don’t forget to change your bandages.”

You nodded. “Thank you, miss Sigewine. Am I all set then?”

She nodded happily. “Yep! Stay safe please!”

You smiled at Wriothesley, slightly sheepish after your outburst. “Sorry, please don’t extend my sentence for yelling.”

He didn’t look like he was going to extend anything, though. His expression was one of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. Before you could leave, he gently took your injured hand in his, inspecting the cleaned and covered wound. He made a small noise of disapproval before speaking.

“If you ever end up back here— which I hope will not happen… there’s no need for you to work at the production zone. Just find me and I’ll figure something out.”

You blushed slightly before nodding. “Alright”

Was that normal? Didn’t all prisoners have to work?

Well, it didn’t matter. Not like you were planning to get arrested again. You said your goodbyes to the very beautiful and generous duke before leaving the infirmary.

Sigewine immediately knew something was up. The girl is an expert in reading human emotions

From the moment you had stepped in, your eyes were practically glued to Wriothesley, and his glued to you

Not to mention how the duke’s demeanor had softened considerably as he continued talking to you… and his suggestion at the end?! She had never seen him offer anything like that before.

Yes, there was no doubt in Sigewine’s mind that his grace was more into you than he was letting on

It’s such a shame you would be released the next day, never to come back to the fortress again!

…or so she thought

Unfortunately for you, your bad luck with Fontaine’s law had only just begun.

Notes: I want him sooo bad omg. Ignore the fact that neuv would probably never sentence someone to meropide for a crime this small it’s for the plot ok

[strongheartneteyam]

I wet you like water but she stained you like blood.

Pairing: widowed!dilf!jake sully x younger!female!human!reader

CW: slight sexual language, can be triggering to some, heartbreak, age gap kink, hurt/no comfort, age gap relationship problems, angst, reader reminiscing (pls tell me if I missed anything) 

So, yeah... I never know when I'm gonna come back with another writing. My hiatus n working periods are all a bit unpredictable lol sorry. Anyways... I literally spent the whole night awake n I was struck by a sudden lightning of creativity early in the morning and I edited this chapter n wrote a bit more, but I still haven't slept at all, so, I apologize if some parts of this make no sense at all. I'll fix it when I can. Hope you guys like it <3 ily guys a whole lot :)) obs: this chapter is a shorter one.

Slightly proofread.

Chapter 4 𓆩♡𓆪

They say all's well that ends well

But I'm in a new hell every time you double-cross my mind

You said if we had been closer in age maybe it would've been fine

And that made me want to die

The idea you had of me, who was she?

A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you

All Too Well - 10 minutes Version (Taylor Swift)

𓆩♡𓆪

It had been 1 year since the last time you saw Jacob Sully. Or Jakey, like you used to call him. The wound never healed. It still throbbed and bled every time you remembered the words he told you that dreadful day. "I think we should stop seeing each other." It felt like you would never get over him. How can one get over such an overpowering, raw feeling? He marked you forever, like a bruise that seemed to never disappear from your skin.

The flashback came like thunder in a storm, haunting your thoughts with a loud pain that echoed through your mind. What you told Jake that night.

“The truth is I love you. The truth is I can't take this anymore. I'm giving you my everything but you don't seem to be doing the same. You're still guarded.” There was a tense period of silence “Jake… I love you. But I don't think you feel the same.”

Maybe you shouldn't have said anything. Maybe if you had kept your mouth shut, he would still be with you.

Ugh!! Stop that, now, (y/n)! Some self love, please? You're better than this. You deserve better.

You tried to convince yourself of that, at least.

The pain was unbearable at times and almost easy to conceal at other times. It depended on how distracted with work or your studies you were. These days you ran to any distraction that could ease the perpetual angst that squeezed your heart inside its hands all the fucking time. It had been like that ever since Jake left you. What were you expecting anyway? You should have known you were never truly loved by Jake. The love of his life was Neytiri and it would always be, alive and walking through Pandora or dead and with Eywa.

It felt beyond weird to have to hear people talking about Jake and have to pretend he was a stranger to you, someone you barely knew, when he had actually left a mark so strong on you, a memory ingrained in your brain, a feeling, a pain buried inside your heart that made you want to scream and hit your head against a wall. That's how much it hurt.

You would never have his body against yours again, warming you up when it was cold, after you spent the whole day in that damn lab, studying Pandoran plants but all you could really concentrate on was how much you missed his reassuring, protective presence. He made you feel safe for the first time in your life. But now he is gone. Just like every single good thing you ever had in your life. But you know what? Maybe your mother was right, maybe love wasn't really something that could ever last forever.

Did Jake ever really make a real effort to be with you? Thinking back, it was extremely easy for him to just come to you and fuck you anytime he felt sad and lonely. What if you had just been a naive, dumb girl all this time? Were you mourning a love that never actually existed? It was always so hard to talk to him about his feelings for you, he never actually let you in, to be honest. All the time you two spent together, you were never able to know if he ever saw you as a partner or just a fuck buddy. 

Oh, but the high… it was worth all the lows. The butterflies in your stomach every time you guys were almost caught fucking in the back of your work room by Norm. Eventually you guys had to tell him about your situationship because, oh well… he already knew what was going on, really. Norm is not a fool or a child. He could add 2 plus 2.

The adrenaline was worth all the tears. And, fuck… you would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

𓆩♡𓆪

Taglist:

@aonungsoneandonly

@coldbabyheroin

@fairyyrosee

@myh3artttt

@explosiongamora

@ufiy

@yeosxxx

@happyyappysworld

@avatar4eva

@henhouse-horrors

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen

@fujimoribaby

@layla2-49

@zoetrope1997

@yeosxxx

@luvv4j4ybe11

@bakugouswaif

@slytherdor01

[bonefall]

instead of asking what parts of wind you’ll be getting rid of, i’ll instead ask what parts you’re keeping. the list is shorter then haha

FROSTPAW AND WHISTLEPAW.

Best part of Wind is the bond between these two, in fact, the entire plot about WindClan felt like it dropped out of the alternate universe where the books are good. The sudden dream of catastrophe, the way StarClan gave Frostpaw this sign on purpose to make them know she's legitimate, Whistlepaw injuring herself to try and save her little sister... Even the little details, like Nightcloud and Hootwhisker trying to drag the tree by the trunk, were neat to see.

I Dont Rewrite Arcs Until They Are Done BUT I do know that I'm going to elevate and expand what's going on with Frost and Whistle. They're fantastic.

Another small thing I'm actually planning on keeping is this exchange between Squilf and Jayfeather, which you'll probably find surprising since I'm so open about how much I dislike the way they've made Squilfstar less proactive;

In a better book, I think this could have been a GREAT moment.

What I dislike about this exchange is that Squilf is able to rebuke it, because the writers DO feel that Bramblestar was a good leader. They're trying to show that Squilfstar is going to act more "mature" (read: boring) with her role now, probably to make a point about how Bramblestar wasn't being "indecisive" for the 10 years we were stuck with him but "responsible." Basically, she gets the power and finds out it isn't so easy-- I'll even bet at some point in the next arc or two she'll become frustrated by someone acting the way she used to.

I've seen some people praising this, and like, it's not illegal to have bad taste. But I think this is an AWFUL thing to do with a character who could have finally caused interesting things to happen, on top of just feeling like contempt of criticism on behalf of the writers.

"Ohhhh they thought she would be more decisive than our beloved baby boy, WELL, WE'LL SHOW THEM. You will sit through 10 paragraphs of debate no matter WHO is in charge!!!"

But like I said....... in a better book, this could have been great. If this was a wake-up call for her.

Suddenly experiencing the full weight of responsibility upon herself, she stops making bold decisions. The complicated political situation in front of her, individual opinions of her Clan around her, and the wounded glares of the furious Brambleclaw below her are all acting like briar vines, pulling her down.

Even StarClan itself seems to have placed a weight on her, cats who she's followed faithfully and been punished by.

So Jayfeather, with all of the changes he has in BB, brawling with angels, speaking defiance to the stars, and pulling spirits down from the heavens, is the perfect cat to be honest with her.

I'm still trying to find a good way to describe the electricity between them in this moment. BB!Jayfeather once reached up his paw through the veil between life and death to grab her ankle and fetch her from her own trial, knowing that she wanted to keep living. He's part of whatever motion she took to remove Bramblestar from power. Her son, her cleric, her ally. How do I put these emotions into words?

"Did you come this far just to become someone else?"

Just... what a moment it could be. For this to be the second that Squilfstar realizes in spite of everything, Bramblestar's thorns still jab at her. That she has to move forward, DAMN the uncertainty, by being herself.

[sanjoongie]

Breed! Chapter 2

Research

ღPairing: Reader (f) x Park Seonghwa x Kim Hongjoong x Choi San x Jung Wooyoung

ღGenre: smut with no plot (if you squint, there's fluff)

ღAu: alien!teez, s2l, established relationship

ღWord Count: 2,757

ღWarnings: bdsm (tied up San), voyeurism, exhibitionism, jerking off by machine, virgin! seonghwa, corruption kink, reader is always cock hungry okay, penetrative sex with no protection, breeding kink, using cum as lubricant, m licking m cock, colored alien cum!, territorial! hwa, m orgasm x 2, degradation kink

ღRated: 18+ MDNI

ღSummary: it's seonghwa's turn to experience how humans breed. San's restrained for safety reasons but two more aliens are introduced to observe. how better to learn how humans breed if not to feel it for yourself?

ღDedication~ @thelargefrye you can blame smalls for hongjoong and wooyoung being included @mejuii @downtoamagicalland for being my ever-supporting beta readers

ღChapter 1~ Abduction | Mini Masterlist | Chapter 3~ Experiment

Slithering white rope-like strands suddenly came out from the ground and wound themselves around San. San yelped at the sudden attack and started to pull and grunt in an attempt to save himself. "Seonghwa?"

"I will take up your offer of data gathering," Seonghwa replied.

San momentarily stopped struggling and you watched with horror as the ropes slithered along his skin, tightening against his bronze skin. "Wait, really?" His face was both surprised and curious, "You're gonna fuck her?"

You stood up quickly, your skirt falling against your skin with the change of gravity. "What are you doing to San?" You demanded. Suddenly the severity of being kidnapped by aliens was starting to dawn upon you.

"We have observed that human males tend to get territorial with their mates. It's better if we restrain him while I…" Seonghwa licked his lips, "...how did you put it? Fuck her pussy full of my cum?"

You whimpered. You knew Seonghwa didn't know how dirty those words were, but that somehow made their effect more lethal. "San, look what you started!"

San was completely immobile now, only his pecs and shoulders peeking beneath the ropes. "I'm sorry I like watching other men fuck you?" He mockingly apologized, making you scoff.

Seonghwa cocked his head, stepping towards you. "Do you not wish to volunteer? We can find another suitable unmated female--"

"No," You cut him off rather firmly. You cleared your throat when San began to snicker in amusement. "I mean, it would be more efficient to use me, wouldn't it? You won't have to waste the time to explain it to another."

That sharp foreign language punctuated the air again. Seonghwa sneered a bit but quickly smoothed his features. "The others will join us now."

"Others?" You squeaked, twisting your fingers together in anxiety, "More are coming to watch?"

San started to cackle, throwing his head back. "Oh, this is getting better."

A hole opened up above and a disc descended with two individuals on it. They were shorter in stature than Seonghwa but not by much. They also simply appeared as two human males; both had faces that you couldn't read.

"I thought only Hongjoong was coming to replace me?" Seonghwa said in a tone that seemed to you like he was not impressed there were two of them.

"Wooyoung insisted," Hongjoong corrected Seonghwa. "He wants to try after you."

You began to stutter and moved closer to Seonghwa. "Seonghwa?"

Hongjoong laughed dryly. "The female is amusing in thinking that you would save her from such a fate."

Seonghwa’s arm, nonetheless, curled around your waist. He tilted his head at you. "Why do you search for solace in my arms? Is it because I chose you to mate with? Was it my tongue inside of you? Is that the appeal of this animalistic urge you humans endure for offspring?" Seonghwa pulled you closer. "Do you seek protection from other males penetrating you?"

You cleared your throat again. "Actually, I was wondering if you would allow it."

Seonghwa blinked at you profusely and then Wooyoung and Hongjoong broke out into laughter. "She wishes for more cocks. Clearly the more diverse DNA she absorbs, the better her child will become."

San was snickering again and you sent him a scathing look. "San!"

Wooyoung strode over to your restrained boyfriend. "You no longer struggle. Is it because Seonghwa licked your cock? Do you feel a sense of connection with him?" Wooyoung turned back towards Seonghwa. "Was that another part of the breeding process? Perhaps another must respect the cock that penetrated previously."

San coughed and blushed and stared high, high up to the ceiling. "Why didn't I think of that?"

Seonghwa’s fingers tightened on your body. "I am next. I have observed and now I will attempt to replicate."

His robe dropped to his feet and you let out a low moan. His body was more slender and flatter than San's but your fingers smoothed over his chest in appreciation nonetheless. "I should remove my clothes as well."

Seonghwa’s eyes were hooded and his cock bounced angrily against his abdomen. "Is it the proper way to do so?"

"Me and San just fuck with clothes on because it feels more forbidden," You admitted quietly.

Seonghwa kept his voice to the same level yours was. "This is quite forbidden."

"You should speak louder," Hongjoong interrupted. "If you're going to replicate, we need to hear everything for our turns."

You swallowed and found there was no moisture in your mouth. "How…how many are there of you?"

"Six of us,” Hongjoong reported, “It is not known how many of us should learn. In case it is decided that without enough data, we cannot make a concise choice, so the more data we all gather, the better."

"Surely the more data the better," San said in a slight squeal, trying to sound serious like the aliens but beyond excited. Was it going to be a gang bang? San knew you had always secretly wanted that experience, although you were plenty happy just fucking San.

"Precisely, human," Hongjoong smiled dangerously.

"I shall begin!" Seonghwa announced. 

His hands cupped your face and he brought his lips to yours. You held perfectly still as they danced along yours with such feather light touches that you whined and pushed up on your tippy toes. You wrapped your arms around Seonghwa’s neck and slanted your lips over his. His eyes widened in surprise before he closed them and let your tongue take over in dominance. You whimpered when he melted under your touch. You suddenly wanted Seonghwa everywhere at once.

"You don't have to prep me, like San did," You whispered against Seonghwa's lips, your foreheads pressed together, "His cum will work fine."

San moaned in his spot. "Fuck, that's hot," he said as he bit rather harshly on his lower lip.

Seonghwa turned you around easily. "Then shall you bend over for me?" He asked.

You shook your head and turned around back to face him. "We can try a different position."

Seonghwa's eyebrows furrowed. "You use more than one position?"

That's when San started to struggle in his restraints once again. "Let me out! I won't be bad, I'll just help!"

Wooyoung bounced on the balls of his feet, looking ecstatic that the show was about to begin. "He's not entered her yet. Let's be safe and keep you confined."

"I love having my dick squeezed but this is not the interpretation I prefer," San grumbled in an adorable pout.

Hongjoong snapped his fingers and suddenly San yelped and panted. "Wh-what are you doing?"

"Mingi thinks it's a good idea to acquire pure, unmixed cum from the male," Hongjoong supplied to the room.

"Who---hhhnnnnn--okay that--wow!" San was a whimpering mess and you knew that noise. 

"San, are the ropes pleasuring you?" You demanded.

"Your mate will be fine, human," Seonghwa insisted, drawing your attention back to him. "What do we do next?"

"Well, I guess--" You managed to pull your eyes away from your boyfriend whose features were contorted in pleasure. "I'll need to wrap my legs around your waist--!"

Seonghwa placed his hands under your ass and leveled your lower half with his cock. "Like this?" He asked with raised eyebrows.

"Wait," Hongjoong commanded, stepping closer. "I wish to observe you penetrating the female."

"Female or human is kinda clinical to refer to me as, don't you think?" You whined pathetically.

"The male called you Babe?" Seonghwa tilted his head cutely.

You shook your head. "That's what San addresses me as. I want something different for you. Please?"

Seonghwa looked at a loss for words, face truthfully unsure. "What do I do?"

"Interesting. The female seems to want a further connection with you, Seonghwa," Hongjoong observed out loud.

"Mingi, adjust the bindings," Wooyoung said from his spot beside San still. "Let's see his breeding in action. We can collect more data with him outside of the pussy."

San choked again. The ropes adjusted until they revealed the ropes convulsing around San's very happy cock. "Fuck, I thought you were the only one that was going to have fun after this," San said, clearly directing his words towards you.

Hongjoong abandoned his post near Seonghwa and walked towards Wooyoung and San. "Figure it out, Seonghwa. I will begin the ritual by licking the male's cock and then yours."

"What?!" San and Seonghwa exclaimed at the same time. 

"But I thought I was going next!" Wooyoung protested.

"Is there something you adore in your world?" You asked gently.

"There is a moon that orbits our planet. It is the most beautiful pink color I have ever had the pleasure of viewing," Seonghwa responded solemnly.

You pressed your lips inwards. "Will you call me your moon, then?"

"My moon," Seonghwa tried out the words carefully.

You smiled at the cute moment before giggling as San cursed loudly, which is usually what he did when he got his dick sucked. Hongjoong walked back to your side with a thoughtful expression. "He tastes interesting." Hongjoong locked eyes with Seonghwa, "Will you taste differently?"

Seonghwa let out a garbled gasp as Hongjoong gripped Seonghwa’s cock between the two of you and licked the head daintily. "Different but not in a bad way," Hongjoong observed. When Seonghwa simply stared at him in shock, Hongjoong directed Seonghwa with a jerk of his chin, "Focus, Seonghwa, you have to fuck the female!"

"My Moon," Seognhwa tried out the nickname again, "I'll use San's cum as lubricant and fuck you?"

You nodded eagerly and it all started up again. Seonghwa slid into you, with no restrictions. The look of pure enrapture on Seonghwa’s face made you realize, somewhat belatedly, that this was Seonghwa’s first time. He came at it with such an analytical mind that it made you forget he had never had sex before.

"I have discovered why humans copulate in such a way," Seonghwa said with reverence. "This pussy is so good."

Hongjoong stared up at Seonghwa, eyes studying the taller alien's faces. "Explain."

"The warmth and the wetness give unfathomable pleasure and comfort." Seonghwa's hands tightened on your ass and then began to move you up and down on his dick, like you were his own personal fleshlight. The moan he let out, the way his eyebrows furrowed like he was in pain, Seonghwa was pussy drunk on his first pussy.

"I told you there is no greater pleasure than fucking that pussy," San spoke up.

"Speed it up, Mingi," Wooyoung commanded, "He’s close."

"I don't think--!" San's back bowed as the ropes contracted and released around his dick. He was a babbling mess at that point and Wooyoung was quite interested in the whole display. 

Hongjoong gripped Seonghwa’s jaw and turned his head. "Your mind is unraveling, what is wrong with you?"

Seonghwa shook his head and fucked you enthusiastically. The way he was hitting the end of you was making you feel some type of way as well. "You must experience it! That is the only explanation."

Hongjoong stepped back and was about to remove his robe. Seonghwa snarled almost animalistically towards Hongjoong, like he was snapping his jaws at Hongjoong to stay away from his meat. “You will not interrupt me until I am done.”

Hongjoong smiled pleasantly. “Seems like it is not just the human males that become territorial. Theory confirmed.”

Seonghwa appeared stuck between the pleasure he was experiencing and his role as researcher for data. His head swung towards San’s direction. "How do you STOP fucking this pussy? How do you not procreate all the time?"

San laughed and sighed at the same time. "My point exactly. I tell her all the time that it’s a crime we don’t just stay in bed all day and fuck."

Seonghwa sent you a wounded look. "How dare you deny him this?"

You laughed in amazement. “I guess males are all the same, regardless of the planet they are born on.”

Seonghwa grew serious. “I will complete my research now.”

Hongjoong clucked his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “You’re starting to sound human. Be more patient! I would have you observe how you’re feeling more.”

Seonghwa shook his head, looking almost nervous. “I don’t believe I have a choice.”

You couldn't help but smile in pride. “Are you going to come so quickly, Seonghwa? Are you that pussy drunk that you can’t help but come inside of me just like that? I didn’t know it would be so fun to fuck a virgin.”

San’s cries began to crescendo and you watched, along with Wooyoung, as San tossed his head back and spurted across the room. His noises were like music to your ear, only making you even wetter, impaled on Seonghwa’s dick. San panted as he came down from his high but still he was not released. “Can I take these rope things home with me when you release us?”

Hongjoong scolded him, “Wooyoung, you were supposed to collect his cum! This is not a leisurely pursuit!”

You clenched down on Seonghwa and he let out a choked gasp at the feeling. “Please, do not do that! I am already close.”

You decided to play into your devious tendencies. Teasing Seonghwa was almost too much fun. “Come for me, Hwa. Fill me up with your cum. I want to be the first one to receive your cum. I want to be the first one to watch your pleasure written over your face. Come for me, Hwa.”

“Hwa?” Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed as if he was feeling intense pain, “Th--” He made the most wonderful moan as he came for the first time. His features were etched in bliss and your eyes captured it all. 

You bit down on your lip. You thought that you couldn't get any wetter yourself, but regardless of all the cum that was filling you up right now, you quickly knew you were going to get addicted to seeing these aliens come for the first time within you. 

“And?” Hongjoong prompted, not even giving Seonghwa a moment to breath.

Seonghwa ignored him and instead focused on you. “Is it customary to shorten your partners name when speaking to them during the fucking process?”

You felt your heart flop a bit. Who knew Seonghwa could be so cute? “It just felt natural. Did you like it?”

“It--” Seonghwa cleared the potential whine from his throat, “It urged me to come.”

You smiled happily. “Good.”

“Good?” Seonghwa frowned in confusion. 

Hongjoong began to huff at being ignored. “This was an utter failure. Seonghwa you can remove yourself from the female. Wooyoung, you will send down Mingi to observe, you’ve been useless.”

Seonghwa pulled out of you and it was your turn to be confused. Green, shimmering, viscous liquid pooled out of you, mixed with San’s pure white cum. “Oh,” was all that Seonghwa could say.

Hongjoong’s eyes were on your cunt, watching everything. “Our cum is a different color than the humans. Interesting. Mingi, make sure that’s recorded. We will extract Seonghwa’s sample another day.”

“I will be back,” Seonghwa whispered to you before carefully settling down on your feet. Even as he picked up his robe and put it back on and walked towards the disc that would take him upwards, he still sent lingering looks back to you. Had the alien formed a bond with you since you were his first?

“What about me?” San pouted. He did tend to get clingy after a climax.

Hongjoong’s eyes moved up and down San’s restrained body, San’s soft cock still out of his confines. “Two climaxes should have subdued you.”

Wooyoung snickered and drew Hongjoong’s attention. “I told you to leave,” Hongjoong commanded.

Wooyoung kicked at nothing, sulking immediately. “I’m going after you!” he shouted rebelliously as he walked to the disc to join Seonghwa.

“You’re going to be as useless as Seonghwa, I can already tell,” Hongjoong muttered under his breath.

You held up a hand as Hongjoong made to disrobe. “I need a break. Please. Water and food would be appreciated.”

Hongjoong pulled back up his robe and you were almost sorry you said something. Hongjoong almost had as nice of a chest as San. “Very well. You should gather your energy and then we will come back. I will find out if there is no greater pleasure than fucking your pussy.”

Somehow the sentence coming out of Hongjoong’s mouth felt more like a threat than a promise, but it made you even wetter. New kink unlocked

ღChapter 1~ Abduction | Mini Masterlist | Chapter 3~ Experiment

Tag list: @hijirikaww @flowerboykun @kitten4sannie @starillusion13 @flurrys-creativity @stardragongalaxy @a-soft-hornytiny @the-flavour-of-deaths-ass

[nyoomerr]

For a prompt:

If you could take one scene from svsss to 'fix-it' what would it be?

my favorite place for fix-its is as a jin-lan city divergence, just like half the population of this fandom, LOL. i've done fix-its there a couple times now, and i want to try my hand at a "the trial happens" fix-it fic sometime in the future, but there's no way i'd be fitting that into a drabble length ahaha 💦

so in the meantime, here's a shorter thing, set when lbh is trying to cure sqq of the sower's rash!

---

In Shen Qingqiu’s defense, he’s had a very, very stressful day. 

Meeting Luo Binghe two years too early, getting accosted by a bunch of no-good Huan Hua upstarts, getting infected with the sower’s curse - there’s just been a lot, okay! By the time he’d made it here, cornered in a dingy alleyway with Luo Binghe looming over him, he’d already used up a large amount of his daily rationed tolerance for bullshit! His face had already started to crack!! He wanted a break!!!

He did not get a break. Instead he got Luo Binghe, suddenly larger than Shen Qingqiu himself, shoulders broad in a way that made his height look far more becoming on him than it had when he was 17 and on the edge of the abyss, a beanpole that had just recently grown tall enough to look Shen Qingqiu level in the eyes. 

Instead he got Luo Binghe, as observant as ever but with far less respect for his Shizun, catching Shen Qingqiu’s wrist and running his thumb over the rash caused by the sower’s curse. 

Instead he got Luo Binghe, his ears a bit too pointed for a human and his teeth more like fangs in his mouth, raising his own hand to those deadly teeth of his and tearing into his flesh, and -

Shen Qingqiu had a defense, remember!! Stressful day, no breaks!!

- and Shen Qingqiu can’t help himself, and raises his free hand up to Luo Binghe’s mouth, too, pressing the pad of one thumb up into one too-sharp canine. 

“They’re so much sharper than I thought…” Shen Qingqiu mumbles to himself, as if he’s making a simple field observation and not sticking his hand in his future murderer’s mouth. 

The hand Luo Binghe has wrapped around Shen Qingqiu’s other wrist tightens, and Shen Qingqiu freezes.

“Haha,” he says, and then very quickly tries to extract his hand from Luo Binghe’s mouth. 

But then - stressful day, no breaks, very good excuse!! - Shen Qingqiu doesn’t actually drop his hand all the way back to his side. Instead, he finds himself hovering useless fingers over the bleeding wound Luo Binghe had torn into the palm of his hand.

“...Shizun?” Luo Binghe asks, sounding a bit like a lost kid and not at all like a blackened emperor on the path to revenge.

Shen Qingqiu lets his fingers make contact, sliding gently through the hot mess of blood dripping from Luo Binghe’s palm. Luo Binghe shivers under his touch.

“...You shouldn’t let it bleed like this,” Shen Qingqiu says. Luo Binghe’s blood is precious, after all - watching fat crimson beads of it fall to the ground beneath them feels like a waste. 

Beneath Shen Qingqiu’s fingers, the wound knits itself back together. He supposes that makes sense - there’s blood all over Luo Binghe’s hand and wrist, and Shen Qingqiu’s fingers as well, now. There’s no need for him to keep the wound open; he can use any of the existing blood to force down Shen Qingqiu’s throat. 

…Fuck, Shen Qingqiu really forgot to be scared of that, just then!!

(In front of him, Luo Binghe is thinking very, very hard. He’s remembering every moment of his childhood when his Shizun had made an ill-advised move to get closer to some beast or another just to get a better look; he’s remembering the feeling of his Shiun’s fingers in his mouth, curious and testing.

Luo Binghe… perhaps has a better idea than his current plan. After all, if his Shizun won’t take him back willingly, then Luo Binghe will simply take his Shizun back, himself - and what better way to attract Shen Qingqiu than with a beast?)

Beneath Shen Qingqiu’s fingers, Luo Binghe shifts his hand, moving it to be palm-down. Shen Qinqgiu frowns, watching Luo Binghe’s blood drip onto the ground faster, now, but - 

But then Luo Binghe’s fingers do something - odd. They were human looking just now, Shen Qingqiu was sure of it, but now Luo Binghe’s nails are black and pointed and curled like claws, and his fingers are shaped oddly up to the first knuckle. It almost looks like…

Shen Qingqiu slides his fingers down from Luo Binghe’s palm to his fingers, taking a couple of them firmly in hand and pressing gently at the base of the claws there.

Fascinatingly, Luo Binghe’s claws extend out like a cat’s. 

“Oh,” Shen Qingqiu says, unconsciously tugging Luo Binghe’s hand up to his face for a closer look. He doesn’t remember the Luo Binghe of PIDW ever having this feature. “Where do they go, normally?”

“If Shizun comes back to this disciple’s rooms with him, I’ll cut off a finger for you to dissect,” Luo Binghe says, as if that’s a completely normal and sane thing to suggest.

Shocked, Shen Qingqiu drops Luo Binghe’s hand and rears backwards, pressing into the dirty alleyway wall behind him. Luo Binghe stares down at him, expression twisted up.

“Is this disciple so despicable that Shizun doesn’t even want that?” Luo Binghe asks, voice bitter. “Which part is so undesirable to Shizun? Following me anywhere at all, or being made to inspect any part of this disciple so closely?”

“Obviously that isn’t what’s wrong, here!” Shen Qingqiu gasps, offended and terrified in equal measure. “What kind of - don’t cut off your fingers to use as bait!”

“Ah,” Luo Binghe says ruefully. “So I couldn’t fool you after all. Was that it, then? Shizun took offense to my attempts to lure him in? Or was it all of it, after all?”

Shen Qingqiu gapes at him, then finally remembers he has a fan and very quickly snaps it open to hide behind. What kind of person wouldn’t take offense to being lured into a trap, ah! If a rabbit knew it would be skinned and eaten once caught, it also wouldn’t like any sort of bait, no matter how tasty!

Aloud, Shen Qingqiu says nothing. Luo Binghe’s expression grows more pinched, his lips pulling up in a sneer, and -

- and ah, his teeth are even sharper, now! Shen Qingqiu hadn’t even noticed!! Had that happened when Luo Binghe had released whatever sort of glamor made his nails look human, too? Was it a physical modification, or only an illusion? Did it break if someone tried to touch it? But, no, Shen Qingqiu himself had touched Luo Binghe’s teeth, and they hadn’t seemed out of sorts, so -

“Do your teeth retract too?” Shen Qingqiu can’t help but ask. 

Luo Binghe lets out a frustrated sigh. “Shizun can experiment with this one all he wants, if he would just -!”

Shen Qingqiu peers out over the edge of his fan carefully. Luo Binghe has been acting seriously, seriously OOC for a blacked demon lord this whole time, and it leaves Shen Qingqiu feeling off balance. Should he try to talk his way out of this? Should he just go back to trying to run for it?

Luo Binghe narrows his eyes at Shen Qingqiu. “If Shizun tries to run again, I’ll release the whole glamor and stand in the middle of the town until you come get me.”

“Binghe!” Shen Qingqiu exclaims. “Don’t be foolish, you - this master hasn’t told anyone about -”

“I know,” Luo Binghe says. “So either Shizun would be able to see a demon that is willing to let him dissect it, or someone else would come along and do that very thing but with far less precision.”

Shen Qingqiu raises his fan higher, nervous. “Don’t talk about being attacked like that,” he scolds.

Luo Binghe hums, pressing in closer to Shen Qingqiu’s space. “Shizun’s right, of course - anyone but him would ruin this disciple if they tried to take me apart. They wouldn’t be delicate enough; they’d ruin all the best parts to study.”

“That’s not -”

“So Shizun should be the one to take charge,” Luo Binghe says. “If you won’t follow me back to my room, I’ll follow you back to yours.”

Shen Qingqiu hesitates. He doesn’t really want to dissect Luo Binghe, of course - he has enough trouble as it is repressing the feeling of Xiu Ya slicing into the flesh of Luo Binghe’s chest from years ago. But he - he does want to know how Luo Binghe’s teeth work.

Shen Qingqiu’s room… is in the same building where Liu Qingge is staying, too. Hadn’t Shen Qingqiu first wanted to hug that battle-obsessed idiot’s thigh to get a strong protector for the future? If Luo Binghe tried anything, couldn’t he just call for help from his own room?

…This is very, very stupid. Shen Qingqiu is glad he has his very excellent and reasonable excuses from earlier. 

“If Binghe wants,” Shen Qingqiu says aloud.

Luo Binghe grins at him wide enough that Shen Qingqiu can make out the odd way Luo Binghe’s teeth sit in his mouth, as if he has a second row of them. 

Fascinating, he thinks, and reaches up to once more stick his hand into the mouth of his most deadly disciple.

Luo Binghe opens wider, letting Shen Qingqiu look, and starts quietly herding them back to the building the Cang Qiong delegation is staying in. It’s… ah, it’s probably fine, if Shen Qingqiu could just look a bit more…

[carrots-bear]

Fire and Rain, written by Bear(aka me)

A rottmnt au where Donnie is the last survivor of the Kraang-pocalypse and is sent back in time. (More or less the peepaw leo aus, except it's donnie.)

Prologue

A tall, green figure crashed into another green figure with a large, clonky, prosthetic, knocking him out of the way of a Kraang laser. (This second figure was also shorter than the first one.)

“Leonardo, I swear, if it were not for us, then you would have died already,” the first figure said, tears forming in his eyes. He had just watched his little brother disintegrate, giving all of himself to send Casey Junior back in time, so that there might be a future that his stupid, selfless sensei doesn’t lose an arm, that April could have lived longer, that Raphael could have lived longer, that Donatello could still see out of his right eye, have somewhat adequate hearing without an aid, have his lower leg, and actually have his ninpo. I mean is that really so much to ask for? thought the Donnie, as he fought off Kraang dogs and tried to find shelter for them. Well, apparently the universe said yes, yes it is.

He was yanked back to the present when Leo said, “Heh, yeah. But you know that that’s just as true for you, Donald.” He was wearing the dumbest smirk— and bleeding an extremely concerning amount alright alright…alright.

Donatello scanned the area with his mono-ggle¹, and when he found somewhere sufficient, he dragged his brother over, going unnoticed by any enemies, I hope… He laid Leonardo down in the rubble gently, making sure that no stray pieces of metal could further injure him. ”Hold tight, Leo. I am going to get you all fixed up.” But then he looked closely at the wound, and his face tightened in a sort of grimace.

“That bad, ay?”, Leo said, still sporting that same old, dum-dum smirk. He winced when Donnie put pressure on the wound. “Okay, yeah. It’s that bad.”

“Of course it is, you dum-dum! Those Kraang hounds banged you up; it’s a miracle you’re still alive…”, Donnie said as he shook his head.

“How will I ever survive?”, Leonardo said, throwing his head back dramatically and putting his hand up to his forehead.

Donnie’s jaw clenched and he froze a moment, then resumed his work, saying, “Without proper medical attention… you might not.” He grimly whispered the last part, as if doing so would make it less true.

Leo put his hand down and faced towards his twin, though his eyes were looking down at his wound. “I know. But I know that you’ll be with me when it happens, and that was one of my ‘the-Great-Master-Leonardo-is-dying!’ requirements. So yay! You accidentally met one of my requirements, Dee!” He said it with a smile on his face, and Donatello didn’t know how.

“There, that should do,” Donnie said, wiping the crimson liquid on his hand onto a piece of rusty metal nearby. “And don’t joke about that,” he snapped coldly.

“Out of curiosity and boredom though—“

“Boredom?”

Donnie glared and sat down more comfortably beside his twin as he continued. “Yes, boredom; listen to my small talk question. Deep inhale and sigh. What are slash² were your other ‘re-qui-re-ments’?” (In case you were wondering, yes, air-quotes were heavily implied.)

“Well…”, and the brothers talked together for a good long time. Donatello checked how secure their shelter was so that he could sleep and ‘Nardo take watch. Yes, both realized how risky that was, putting the person who was slowly bleeding out on watch, but Donnie made Leo promise to wake him up if anything was happening.

• * • * Two weeks later * • * •

The brothers were on the run from the Kraang. Both were completely unsurprised; this was the Kraang-pocalypse, as some liked to call it, after all. At the moment, Donnie’s heated compression sock for his real foot had stopped working— again, so that’s working out great form him, slowing their pace.

Leo coughed, the running not being very good for his current state. “Donnie, I have a plan, but you might not like it.” He stumbled as he coughed again.

It didn’t take long for Donnie to know what Leo was thinking. ”Oh no, uh-uh, nope, not gonna happen. I don’t know exactly what you’re planning, but I do know it’s gonna be that load of self-sacrificing dirt again.”

As he spoke, Donnie pressed a button on his wrist-tech to activate a cloaking device. They got ahead of the Kraang long enough for Donnie to locate a safe place and get there unnoticed. Donnie eased Leo down. He could tell by what his mono-ggle was telling him, Leo was… Donnie was going to lose… Donnie was going to be an only ‘child’ very soon. His eyes wanted to tear up, but Donnie didn’t want to cry, so he forced them back.

Leo was having trouble breathing as it was, so it didn’t help the situation that he was about to give a speech to his twin. “Donnie, I know you know I’m dying. It’s okay! I have a plan remember?”

“Is that plan you dying, the Kraang killing everything, and sparing me to make my life miserable?”

“Well, I mean, I would prefer it if I could live too. If there was another way, I’d take it, but there’s not. I want you to see the good timeline, so you can tell me about it once you die, probably sitting in a rocking chair and solving the ancient puzzle of— The Rubix Cube. You have to promise me that you’ll come back to us when you die, alright? Not a bunch of Master and Uncle wanna-be’s.”

There was that smirk again. Oh, that smirk. Donnie was going to miss it. Welp, here come the water-works. You couldn’t even hold it in for his— “Wait, why didn’t I point this out before? What do you mean? You can’t actually be planing to send me to the same timeline as Casey Junior. You can barely use you ninpo in this state. That killed Mikey, it’s going to kill you too. I didn’t want to watch my family die before, and I still definitely don’t want to now. Please don’t do this, Leo.” Yup, the water-works have arrived everyone! Aw man, why?! Donatello felt his purple mask absorb the tears. They were coming in an onslaught; it would soon look like he just dipped the lower half of his mask in water. He sniffed and looked away from his brother. Donnie was holding his twin’s hand, just to make sure he was still there; he squeezed it, craving any sort of comfort, yet still unsure how to ask for it.

“Aw, Dee. C’mere.” Leo opened his free arm for a hug, and Donnie gladly took the opportunity, knowing it would likely be the last time for him to do so. They stayed like that for a bit, hugging and crying. Then Leonardo pulled back, slightly reluctantly, and said, “If you want, you can take my mask and katanas…”

Dee looked at his twin’s face for a moment before reaching up to untie the blue mask. He wrapped it around his right hand like a fingerless glove, just above a black choker on his wrist. Then he reached for the strap for the blue-hilted twin katanas.

“Does this mean you’re on board with my plan?”

“I know you’ll never let me hear the end of it if I don’t go along,” Donnie said grimly as he strapped on the sheath.

“Heh, you—“, Leo was interrupted by another fit of coughs before he could continue. “You got that right, is what I was going to say.” Donatello finished getting his belongings together and thought, My twin is actually insane. I mean, this could work, since Leo does have portaling abilities, and Mikey did it, so I suppose it’s feasible… “You ready, Don?”, Leo asked, interrupting Donnie’s thoughts.

“Yeah, just a few things first. One:” Donnie leaned forwards and hugged his leader again; he hugged back. Donnie pulled back and said, “Two: I know I don’t say it a lot, because, well, y’know, but I hope you know that I do love you, ‘Nardo.”

“Aw, I love you too, Don-Tron.” His tone was playful, but his words and undertone were loaded, so that helped Donnie a lot with suppressing his tears for number three.

“And three….I don’t blame you for this ‘Nardo. Any of this. I never have. The world was resting in the hands of an egotistical child who didn’t even know what was at stake, not to mention you weren’t the one who wanted to open the portal in the first place. We can definitely blame this one on the Foot. I’ll say this one more time, though, because you don’t look like you believe me.” Donatello rested a hand on his brother’s shoulder and said, “I don’t blame you.”

Leo’s eyes filled with tears, and one slipped down his cheek as he said, “I…Thank you, Donnie. I really needed to hear that.”

“I know,” Donnie stated matter-of-factly as he leaned forwards and touched his own forehead to his brother’s as a last goodbye. “Okay,” Donnie sighed. “Now I’m ready.”

Leo nodded and concentrated hard on his ninpo. He summoned all his strength before there was a burst of light, and a crackling, swooshing, blue portal appeared, though it was small at this stage. Well, at least for a seven-foot three-inch tall mutant who had a few extra weapons that he probably didn’t need on him. Leo let out one last battle cry before he disappeared, disintegrating into thin air. Another tear left Donatello’s eye as he watched the portal grow. He put his bō staff in its sleeve and took out the twin katanas, then looked around at the demolished place he had called home all his life. “Good-bye New York of twenty-forty-four. Sigh.” As he stepped into the portal he murmured, “New York, what a town,” and disappeared into— not next week, but roughly one-thousand-one-hundred and forty-four weeks previous³.

_____________

Prologue is out!!!🥳 I have not told the internet about this au, barely at all, yet. I've already written a few chapters, but I'm saving those for a bit.

So, a few things I'd like to note:

Everything is platonic/familial unless otherwise stated.

It is probably going to be extremely hurt-comfort/comfort/fluffy despite it being Donatello-centric, and the main characters being reptiles;) [ho-ho, ha-ha, he-he, I am the Queen of Daughter Dad-Jokes]

I know nearly nothing medical; mostly stuff I hear my dad(a doctor) talk about, stuff in media/books, and the science I do in school

The numbers that you see by the text(e.g. Hello¹) are what I will use as footnotes, more or less

-=_=-=_=-=_=-=_=-=_=-=_=-

Footnotes:

Donnie’s goggles meet a monocle

/

This is Donnie; I made sure the number of weeks were accurate

=================

Edit: Prologue | Chapter 1

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Okay but imagine mimzy joining the hotel as a resident.

Not because she believes in redemption, but a complex interplay between, needing to hide out from a high tier person she pissed off, knowing Al is too annoyed with her to just handle it like ususal after last time, and knowing that goody two-shoes Princess Charlie won't throw her out... so therefore Al won't either.

Husk would be furious, and one can only imagine how Al would feel.

I don't think he owns her soul, but we don't have a lot of information on that front. So he can't order her to leave... but if he did, and Charlie found out, it would jeopardise his standing at the hotel. Which had been shaky since the rebuilding, what with his injury limiting his already curtailed powers.

Charlie tries to be So Kind and Helpful and engage Mimzy in redemption activities. And maybe she does one, but Mimzy has Loud OpinionsTM the whole time which is fine. Charlie is counting to ten in her head. Because we don't yell at guests! :)

Vaggie had gone to Alastor after day two to tell him to covertly get her out of the hotel.

He replies, actually looking somewhat chagrined behind that smile, that he would if he could. But they both know Charlotte would be upset and work out why she'd gone... even if she was infuriating.

Angel was originally loving it. Mimzy does NOT know when to shut the fuck up about secrets she knows. And normally he likes that kind of person, it used to help him keep tabs on all sorts of people for Val before he was reduced to just an expensive hole on screen... and boy, wasn't that a depressing line of thought!

But after a bit, you get the feeling that harmless fun stories start to tip into deeply personal shit no one (especially not current or former overlords who had a lot of enemies that might take advantage of drunken story time to find a good place to stab the men in the back) deserved to have shared without their consent.

He knew more about Husk, and Alastor, and even that Rosie lady, than he could ever have dreamed... and it frightened him. Val could theoretically ask the right questions at the studio... and then everything would be forced out.

Angel had noted the tension in his hunky bartender and cervine hotelier recently, this broad was like a haemorrhaging wound full of secrets. She didn't care that her actions hurt people, or put targets on the backs of people she considered friends... the most dangerous kind of person. It was all justified in her head, because it turned out okay (for her) in the end.

He and Cherri had known a few, but none had her level of skill. So Angel knew how to handle a bird like her, just get her a bit tipsy and head her off to a more secluded table so her stories were just for him and sometimes Niffty. Not the other residents. At least two of which he assumed were under Vox... specially the slimy guy.

Sure, it's fun to know about the first time Mimzy met Alastor and how they'd dismembered a guy for aggressively flirting with both of them. Angel can admit he's still human enough somewhere in this body to lose it laughing each time Mimzy recalled how it'd taken Al three days to work out he had also been a target of affections. He'd thought the man was just naturally vulgar and handsy...

Because yeah, that tracked.

And perhaps the overlord wouldn't kill him for knowing that, 'cause at least it seemed Husk and Al were aware of his efforts to manage Mimzy and her MouthTM. Keep her from the others and do damage control when he wasn't at the studio. And sure, she also had interesting stories of her days as a sex worker, and an owner of her own brothel-slash dance club... turns out she had something similar down here, and no one disrespected her staff.

Watching something shorter than Lucifer manifest a bazooka from between those bazongas, especially a weapon longer than she was tall, had been quite An Experience. She thought his ability to manifest extra tommy-gun wielding arms was just as neat, so there was some genuine bonding there, to a degree.

But it was the other stuff, like... like how he now had to live with the knowledge that Husk had been so depressed he'd drunk himself into a stupour for the last years of his life. Or that Alastor had been so little when his mother was murdered, and then his father went 'missing' in a way that made Mimzy grin darkly and lick her teeth. No doubting where she got the cannibal sheen from.

Or that Husk's power had been torn down through outside influences, and left him... this. Or that Mimzy had managed to get both the men to play dress up for her dancers on at least one drunken occasion. And like, yeah, filing that away for later, but also it was the sorta thing a friend holds onto for their own memories.

He knew Husk purred when he was happy, and Alastor had a tail he hid because it was too cute for his image. Mimzy didn't skimp on details about when she'd spent time with the pair of them... or when they'd all done gods know what in a bloodsoaked cabin in a bayou somewhere when bloodlust overcame normal barriers and curiosity reigned. It was sorta hard to imagine... but Angel couldn't help but worry about how he'd feel if Cherri was out there spouting off about them experimenting to just anyone.

Like, Angel could do ladies, for the screen and double-pay when Val was pushing for more money. Had to learn that somewhere, right? Cherri was damn good at it, and she had no expectations, just laughed and made it easy for 'em both. Angel was good with body language and all, could usually work out what made people tick and that's why he was Good at what he did. But having a verbal guide, and someone who wouldn't judge if you mucked up, helped no end.

Val had at least been pleased when the films came out and got enough notoriety with a new demographic Angel hadn't been able to touch yet (heh). Not enough to keep forcing him to do that ongoing, but enough that if they wanted a curveball he'd be the pizza delivery guy getitng an enthusiastic tip from a hot straight couple on occasion to bounce the ratings.

Not to mention, some of his coworkers didn't fall under the female category, but had different requirements to usual, and now he knew how to make that work real well. So it'd worked out okay in the end. Those films were far more fun to make as well, now he didn't feel like he was fumbling. But the point was... that was his and Cherri's business.

And, Angel did feel like some of what Mimzy said shouldn't be aired. He got the whole... 'ace of some kind', vibe from Al, and Mimzy often liked to joke about teaching him things. That's not cool to go sharing around... Everyone starts from 0, you know?

Some people stay there their whole existences, and that was fine with Angel too. Same way he wasn't much for rockclimbing, and someone out there would rather die than go a day without it... to each their own. Good for them.

S'why he often diverted guests who were flirting with the overlord, the few brave enough that is, before the deer worked out what they were doing and ate them in the least sexy way possible. Although, based on that last scented-candle-dolphin looking sinner, Angel would bet twenty bucks they were into that shit and were hoping to provoke some kinda vore experience...

Either way, Mimzy was a wild fuckin' ride of a woman. She often switched between tales of insane hijinks (hiding bodies, stealing cars, fucking with the racist cops and causing general mayhem) to hard topics from life like struggling to make rent, her dancers coming home bruised and sobbing, the way their clients were mysteriously found devoured by alligators who often came when called by name but the pigs don't need t'know that you got me?

That Alastor had at least two pet alligators as a child who helped immensely with clean up and their names were hard to pronounce but the fuckers didn't like Mimzy much unless she approached meat-first. That line made Angel choke on his drink and she'd rolled her liquid black eyes fondly. Stating that she's still not sure why they hated her on sight but she bit one once when it smacked her with its tail... so perhaps that had something to do with it.

Before jerking the conversation to increasingly-wild tales of her nights dancing with first Al and then Husk in speakeasies when life was easy. Dropping into maudlin territory when she mentioned the confusion of her boys being sent off for the damned war so young and then coming back slightly different. Still fucked up like all of 'em... but changed. They told her some, but not everything, and suppressed whatever stressed them out at night with alcohol and chaos.

Growing nostalgic at her memories of Al's ma, and how she would be so kind to even weird white girls who pestered her son endlessly, despite the social stigma of the time. Mentioning that Ma used to make the nicest food, and always had something available at all time of day for the hungry child or jumpscare of a husband, who could arrive at any time. Mimzy actually whispered that she stopped eating there after a bit, unless she brought something to share, when she realised that they didn't have much and were including her n their planned meals.

Small ttowns, small incomes. And anyone who dared to be less than exemplary members of town, much less non-white, tended to get less than the minimum wage... because who was going to force the hands of employers to be fair? Who cared? Nobody, really.

Angel was particularly enthralled by the tales of frenetic murder. The way Mimzy spoke about helping Al hide the hacked apart body of his father, as the named allgators fought over the severed slop like he'd dumped an ocean of treats out for them.

Mentioning the way she learned to reset bones and bind wounds so well, 'cause of the brute... the time he'd even swung at her because as a white man, he felt he could even discipline another person's child. It wasn't unacceptable in those days, of course but...

Then dancing off into a tale of when she was fucking two guys in their crappy creaking car to distract from the fact Husk was rifling through their office files for dirt to leak to the local newspapers about the corrupt politician they served. As Al arranged for at least one of the men to end up in the freezer after she was done; they cost of meat was high, these days, and he'd roughed up Birdie one of the smaller dancers. He'd tried to do worse but Husk'd ejected the man out a window. Mimzy had gone to him and his pal under the guise of 'making amends' as if they'd been in the wrong. hah, the fools.

Least the pal was good with his tongue... she'd waggled her eyebrows at Angel, and threw a pointed wink at Husk who ignored her like his life depended on it. It was then Mimzy dropped the bombshell that while she'd suggested the plan of course, Husk or Al could've managed either role if they'd needed to. (And that little statement made Angel's brain buffer for a good few minutes, and the world went fuzzy as he waited for blood to return to the brain).

On some evenings, she fell into conversation about the mundanity of causing social chaos by shopping together or being seen hanging out with one another in bars, on what looks like dates, to pushing boundaries at the local parks and 'desecrating' whites only fountains... and then the full-blown argument the trio had had after spending ten minutes unsuccessfully trying to fold a fitted sheet whilst half-blitzed on ether. None of them had realised that the bottle had fallen on the floor and was pooling in the small room, until later on. It had made things interesting at least.

They'd stored that little item more securely in future.

To her memories of the prim way that Al learned to talk in french-creole from his Ma, and the loss (read 5 stages of grief) they experienced when he dropped his natural accent for the radio. That damned world english he needed to affect to be considered a faceless white radio host... because if someone found out the truth, then they would've gone a'lynching.

The stark sides of the times, black and white, and anyone or anything in the middle was somehow both more human than one side and less than the other. And how she was considered tainted for impinging on her own 'pure' heritage for being seen with first a half-breed and then a black man. The scandal of it still tickled her.

"Oh, sure," Mimzy would joke aloud flapping a hand nonchalantly. "It was the fact I had non-white 'friends' that soiled me... not the fact I was a hooker and a floozy, not the brothel or the dance clubs, not the occasional girlfriend I ruined for anyone afterwards cause I can lick the paint off a trailer hitch... not the fact I publically showed my claim on those boys so deeply anyone would be terrified to try flirting with 'em. And that's just the stuff people saw!"

She'd laugh, raucously and slurred from drink, hinting at the murder, mayhem and debauchery happening in the shadows of their day to day. How they would lure in a target with Mimzy or one of her dancers, or even Husk or Al depending on the preference, and get them alone... before taking them somewhere secluded.

Depending on the nature of their crimes, sometimes the targets would be left to wander lost until they died of exposure, othertimes they'd be mercilessly hunted through the bayou by primarily Al and sometimes the other two. Sometimes they'd be alive for days in the hidden shack. Sometimes... rarely, someone who deserved a pound of flesh would be brought with them for a quiet vengeance.

An intriguingly terribly kept secret, all the dancers knew, and they kept quiet. Mimzy sometimes murmured that she wasn't sure if Al would have even hurt them if they told... they were a small community, after all. And he, and husk and mimzy kept 'em as safe as they could for the time, the place and the nature of the work.

Angel finds himself wishing that he'd had that level of chaotic care in his life, because he might've not died to a random overdose on a grungy club's bathroom floor. Stomach and guts filled with the loads of faceless people who only saw him as a pretty face and a warm hole, not caring as he twitched his last. What if he'd been with people who would have seen him as Anthony? Who would've at least tried to get him help or held him softly when he died? Fuck, the morose thoughts that shit conjured were devastating.

He'd been a toy in life, and now in death Valentino had the rights to him. Husk'd torn down his persona so devastatingly and made him feel Seen in a terrifying way... and Al had turned down his sexual favours that first day (and ever since though those aren't really serious)... there was something about them that made him feel weirdly safe.

They would kill him sure,if he pushed them or betrayed them or put everyone in danger, but he never got the vibe that either male sinner would hurt him like Val. And THAT train of thought always fucked with his head severely... because these were/are Overlords. Worst of the crop and all.

But in another life, he could've had the security of one of Mimzy's dancers. Left him feeling all kinds'a ways.

The way she talked about it was nostalgic and fun. If insane. Couldn't have been weirder than being a closeted mafioso in the Familia, back in the day.

Alastor was the ultimate serial killer, finishing off victims and dissecting them as he would. But Mimzy recalled the joys of getting her hand in there and Husk always seemed to have a proud gleam in his eye as they spoke about this sort of stuff.

Angel admitted that he'd been more than a little fascinated, and maybe not all that altruistic when it came to listening in to Mimz and her chatter on occasion.

He knew Vaggie sometimes listened in, but grew disgusted quickly, and Charlie had eavesdropped on more than one occasion before getting overwhelmed - disgust, sorrow, the sudden realisation that none of her sinners had a singlular event of Bad Choices in life but more like a collective nightmare of trauma, pain, social pressure and decisions that brought them to Hell. That perhaps she wasn't so prepared to manage that with group hug therapy and Daily Affirmations as she thought.

Eh, she's got some backing from the medical sin, Sloth was it? Maybe they could get an actual psych up in here or something. Either way.

The real issue was stopping Lucifer from listening in to too much. That'd be like handing a molotov to an angry teen, because he and Al still hadn't really gotten over day one's big bitchfit of the musical variety. Funny as hell, but the sniping was getting more personal from Lucifer's end with just the right level of pain to actually hurt the deer.

Was the king a bit of a hot mess with mental health issues out the wazoo? Sure. Maybe he needed to hear that in a kinder way though. Not reminded of his not-great parenting by a smart-mouthed red twink with a god complex who seemed to be prodding for reasons Angel couldn't quite discern.

But Lucifer had started sniping back using some truly devastating tidbits from Mimzy's stories, and publically too. Which had been the main reason that the side wall had been replaced a total of eighteen times this month alone (not counting one incident of Cherri Bomb drunkenly panicking that the front door had been removed and they were trapped in the hotel, but she'd been fully zooted on some new stuff at the time and, well, her goal had been to save them, so...)

Angel had mentioned to Charlie that Luficer was being a bit of a dick, and gave examples that sincerely distressed her to hear, and she'd stepped in. The barbs had at least pulled back to general tanting, which saved the hotel and staff's sanity to some degree.

One just didn't live long if they made Yo Mamma jokes at the Radio Demon. Just putting it out there for future reference.

There was some truly dark shit in these stories, too. The times that Al, husk and Mimzy had been too late to get to one of the dancers... and all they could do was ensure the perpetrator was annhilated. The police had little care for some dead whore... much less the ones that might've gone spreading tales about the corrupt officer's own extra-marital affairs with them. Good riddance and all.

Sometimes the dancer had been working off-the-books, but often they thought they'd found The One for them, and it was just a cruel little lie boxed up in pretty wrapping paper. Either they wanted another worker for themselves, or someone who'd be grateful enough for the 'rescue' to capitulate to any depraved want from their 'saviour', whatever, whenever and wherever. Angel could sure fuckin' sympathise on that one.

There were times a target nearly got too far with Mimzy, hells even Al and Husk had had to play defense on a few occasions, when the others didn't arrive fast enough and someone decided Wait meant Make Me. Those... those felt too close to home too.

Husk refused to meet his eyes at those times; at first Angel thought it was outta shame, but after a coded not-talking-about-it conversation, it was more like... that Husk felt bad that he'd at lest known help was coming. But Angel never had that option with his fucking contract.

He tried to reassure Angel that there would be a way, but always fell silent.

There were takes of broken bones, black eyes, stab wounds and hooking bullets out by candlelight as the others pinned them down. It was... chaotic. Angel could feel himself there in those tales, he'd had similar experiences. The way your hands trembled as they pulled stitches through the flesh of someone you knew and cared for; hurrting them to help as they choked back a scream from the pressure.

Sitting beside someone in a strangling darkness, afraid that their stillness was more than just being knocked out; roving their chest with your eyes to check for breath, and sometimes reassuring yourself by searching for a pulse. It was... familiar. Or when it was your turn and you begged them to stop even just to say it, as someone pulled the blade out from you, hands roughly holding you down as they used burning antiseptic to try and keep you alive...

Those were the memories that fell deep into your brain and hopefully stayed there unless triggered. Memories of pain fade, of course, but sometimes things brought that mess back up. Like Mimzy's words. Husk hadn't needed to ask, just poured him a drink that he kept outta Vaggie's line of sight as he served it to Angel. They didn't make eye contact.

She'd flipped the conversation back to soemthing light-hearted, like the day a circus had come through their middle of nowhere hometown and that'd been a hoot. First time they'd seen any animals like elephants or tigers outside of posters or books, the few that had photos at least. Nearest zoo was in the larger city hours away... and who had the cash for that?

Mimzy spoke about the thngs they'd wanted to do, too. If there'd been time. Like seeing the beach... it'd always sounded so exciting in the books, and even a few of the films that had come out they could afford to see. The bayou was great and all, but... endless salty water and sunshine? It sounded like something from a fantasy.

They were going to go one day. That'd been the plan. When things were more stable... she'd drifted out of that one quietly, then flipped to an innuendo so crude Charlie (who was NOT eavesdropping) bit her fork too hard and had to spit the severed metal out.

There was a tale or two Mimzy came at a few times, but never quite finished. The first one was seemingly about finding out Al had died, and what'd happened... that was the first time Angel thought he saw the real Magnolia behind the Mimzy, the way her hands shook and that glass-sharp voice quivered... not describing exactly what she'd seen, like the words caught in her throat. But... enough to say it hadn't been clean.

The regret sat in her throat. Heavy and choking.

They'd buried what they could find, but... well. There wasn't much.

Husk and her, they'd fallen apart, then. Without the buffer of both being ticked off at Al, and equally endeared by his insane personality, they just clashed. The third voice that would redirect and frustrate and cajole and endear was gone...

Husk drifted away and found some woman in a few towns over. She thought they were happy or so Mimzy assumed 'cause there was 'at least a sprog or maybe two' as she put it. But that didn't last. And then he was dead too. She'd been talking herself into going to go drag his miserable drunken ass out of his house for months now and finally got around to mustering the nerve... only to find him Gone. That'd been a nightmare unto itself, she'd been furious with the fool for not daring to wait til tomorrow when she'd at least have closure.

And then... life continued.

The police started to come down harder on her dance studio, her brothel as people started to rile up about anti-segregation and doubled down on that bullshit all american way - the white way of living and all that bullhockey. She'd ended up alone, in the end... half her dancers jailed for indecency or other don't-tell-my-wife-or-ill-kill-you type charges, some took up with clients and their false honeyed words, and she couldn't do a thing to save them...

All those lives. The dancers, their kids, the whole system died... because the world wasn't ready for something like them. Not now. Not yet. And it turned everything sour... until the day she died. Too young for some; but much too long from her perspective, after everything.

All that was left was having chaotic fun until the ride stopped. Stealing cars, robbing the rich blind, fucking with people left and right, to feel something and to sow chaos in her wake.

They'd never forget Mimzy. And when someone recalled her, they'd never forget Al or Husk or her dancers, that was tied into the legacy after all...

At least they overturned prohibition before they ventilated her for pissing off some mobster family. She'd laugh about that, then skirt away to a funnier story or topic.

She was like a gobstopper, with things buried underneath that hard shell. Maybe one of those scary ones from Gluttony that started to reform from the core out if you left it alone for a few hours - stomach acid neutralised this, thankfully, cause Angel didn't mind using Beads on occasion but that sounded like laying an egg and he... wasn't usually up for oviposition films. They had other sinner stars for that.

Mimzy would swing into a non-sequiter so fast it felt like whiplash. Stories about her boys getting so plastered that she had to carry and/or drag them back to the backrooms of their club, and how the pair were nightmares when hungover. In different ways.

Alastor apparently decided that if he was suffering, then everyone should be, so he was always excruciatingly cheerful and loud and bright and Husk'd threatened to shoot him more than once. To which Alastor would jokingly tap his forehead and say 'I think a ventilation hole might let the demons in here out, so go ahead!' which... hadn't been funny no more, looking back on it, given how he died.

And Husk'd be this lump of misery that had to be dragged to the kitchen for greasy food to try and return himself to himself. Mimzy usually just felt furious at every miniscule sound until the headache died down with another glass of something strong.

And the stories of how life just kinda sucked back then. Pooling cash to work out groceries because between everyone, they could afford to feed them all til the next week's paychecks came through, but the dancers' wages came first, then rent and studio upkeep and attire. Drink prices could be negotiated for the right entertainment at the local speakeasy, you play an instrument and sing for a few hours, you can drink on the house to certain exceptions and all.

Then there was the... the not-talked about part. The racism, the bigotry, the intolerance of anything that wasn't white guy and white gal popping out babies (but even the idea of pregnancy was taboo for some weird ass reason and those poor birds back then ended up wearing big boxy dresses to pretend it weren't happening). Mimzy was always chuffed about the irony of the world they lived in back then.

Not to mention the whole cornflakes business, she nearly fell off her chair recalling that one. Husk'd snorted, and Angel had had a brief moment of heart-eyed haze over that...

"The what?" he'd eventually asked, slightly confused.

"Oh ya so precious, not knowin' but back in the day people got real fuckin' weird about fuckin', right? Don't need to tell you that, do I? But then you was a city boy, it was worse in the smaller places where people were so high strung it was a wonder not many went mad. But anyways, the whole sex for marriage thing was out there, and there was also the silly stipulation that even then having a good time or even a weird but okay fumble with your mr or mrs should be done only for making kids right? The priests championing that bullshit often ended up being secretly guilty of affairs or kid fiddlin' so we know why they got so heated about it." Mimzy explained, her words like an oncoming locomotive that couldn't be dodged now he'd switched the tracks.

"So's you see... even married you were supposed to control yaself. The time for fourteen kid families was over cause people weren't dying as babies and all no more, and even the post war population efforts were petering out... so they came up with the idea that bland foods equals bland thoughts. And somehow a guy made a cereal out of called cornflakes, and it became this big thing, you see, to be seen eating it. You young'uns call it virtue signalling." she snorts. "It was kind of like saying 'I could fuck but I ain't gonna 'cause I can control myself' and expecting applause. You know, I used to offer it to my dancers 'cause it was a quick meal you could buy cheap enough, and was pretty good with some milk and sugar or fruits. They loved the irony of it."

"Okay, yeah, that's funny... people were weird as shit back then. Did you know Pentious told me the Victorians, back when his ancient ass was alive, were super into sex and prudishness all at once? Was a real thing to get ya nipples pierced in those times... and seeing an ankle could give a man a life-threatening hard-on." Angel offers back, thinking fondly on the odd rants the inventor had gone on when they'd been drunk together... before the battle. Missed the snake nowadays. And not just 'cause he and Cherri had taken the guy's twin dongs for a test ride and wanted another ticket, neither.

"Right? Humans are humans all the way through. The more they push back on a topic, and make a fuss, the more I can see right through 'em. Cept the... whatchacall'ems, aces... and the archery ones... had a few dancers like that come through. Just legit didn't have interest, but didn't mind the activities involved... had some aros who were natural seductive types and could spin a romantic fantasy like you wouldn't believe. Or maybe you would, I've seen ya work, Angel. Always got top dollar for the illusion of intimacy. The rest of us, though, we're just animals that learned how to make taxes a thing and nothing got better from there." she shrugs.

Husk uncharacteristically had another tray of drinks delivered to them by Niffty. Which sparked a story about her meeting Niffty in life. It'd been brief, that first time, she was only very young... but her father had clearly been a piece of work.

Her mother didn't seem the kind of woman who'd been in the USA of her entire own volition, or perhaps the isolation of being the only person of asian descent in a world of scornful white faces was the issue, but she seemed nervous constantly. They'd seen the family come into town that first time., and the gossips were all abuzz about how such a wonderful man could choose someone... like that.

You couldn't not notice. Mimzy had been all for befriending the woman, making a point to pretend that Husk was her husband, so she understood it could be hard to be seen as just another interracial couple in these times. Her quick eyes noting the make-up too thick in some places and not enough in others. Asking questions without asking directly what was happening exactly.

Meeting the funny little girl who stayed quiet and removed the heads from her dolls as she played silently in the corner. Watching them with wide, fearful eyes as if she expected pain from every man in her vicinity. The marks of make-up present here and there, to make sure the teachers wouldn't ask questions.

You had to know to look, after all. And most people would turn away to avoid the truth of it in any case, who wants to know what happens over the picket fence? It was a family problem, we shouldn't pry!

[Those who got too loud, too nosy, tended to get lobotomised after all. Just about anything could be solved with a little brain damage!]

Keeping to yourself was all the rage!

Well, unless you're two nosy fuckers and their reluctant tag-along. They'd met little Niffty, and couldn't help but decide to intervene.

Unfortunately due to oversight little Niffty'd been huddled in a corner when they came for her father the night her mother went screaming into the street for help. Neighbours twitched their curtains closed even as the distraught woman ran past, a knife in her forearm where she'd blocked the blow that should have killed her.

Lucky thing that the trio had been heading out for 'work related puposes', huh? Lucky they were nearby to help and squirreling her with one of the sympathetic families nearby as an ambulance was called. They'd headed back to the house to deal with the culprit.

He'd died slow, in the household he'd ruled with an iron fist... but there'd been a moment of Ah, Bugger when it was discovered that the whole scenario had been seen. The police took hours to arrive, thankfully... and they only really took notice when it was discovered that the husband had mysteriously fled. 'Work stress' and 'family issues' were on the official report.

Little Niffty had been taken out of the home and brought to her mother by then. The police arriving to a home empty of life, and covered in blood. Thankfully, racism and misogyny worked for them this once... the police naturally assuming the small quiet woman couldn't have hurt her husband without a man's help. But all neighbours said she was a recluse with no friends...

Niffty never said anything, not to anyone but her dolls... and the police couldn't make sense of the statements she giggled at them. Putting it down to foreign nonsense and female hysteria and grief at the loss of her Daddy. Thankfully.

That shouldn't have worked. But it did.

Kept an eye on the kid for the next bit, or at least they sure tried. But life got in the way, then Niffty and her mum moved them to a city where things were safer. Where there were other people from their culture there, had established parts of the city even, so they had some sort of allies in this strange country.

Mimzy'd found it strange to see their little Niffty in Hell but then, when Mimzy heard what'd happened... ain't no surprise. Al had found her first, of course, she had begged him to look after her soul and he couldn't refuse.

Seems some asshole of a husband'd tried raising a hand to Niffty one too many times, and something had snapped in the lovely doll. Something about demanding clean home, clean life nonsense one too many times, and then she'd murdered him so violently it took three rounds from police to take her down.

In retrospect, Mimzy laughed, they might've given her the idea on how to dispose of unwanted baggage, unfortunately. Still, turns iut Niffty made the fucker drink bleach as he died, so perhaps if he was down in the Pit and Al hadn't found the miserable wretch yet,Niff's former husband had the sense to stay away. They'd get him eventually though.

Angel had had to leave for a shift, but that left his head reeling, finally putting together some pieces on why Niffty was like that.

Sure his body was doing all the right things during the taping of 'Hoes in the Garden: Fertilise my Crops' the newest farm-themed, dirt-inclusive film line for the Wrathian market... but his mind was busy putting things on a mental corkboard and using lots of red string.

Val had even been in a good mood for some reason, complimenting Angel on his performance, and suggesting he take the rest of the night off to rest his voice for tomorrow. Something about a cowboy themed shoot based on some imp festival where most of the competitors ended up pummelled. His role was to play the glorious prize and get railed over the largest fake pumpkin-o-lantern Angel thinks he's ever seen in his afterlife. Those sinners in the set design team needed a raise... or therapy. Maybe both.

Either way, he's a tad too tired to clock the unusual affection from Val. It hadn't even been a bad day at work, either. Just, a lot of takes from different angles, and by the time he'd done his fourth theatrical climax, a 7/10 for anyone wondering, Angel was ready for a nap.

It was later that he recognised something was up. Bit late then, though.

Back at the hotel after a shower and a 'five minute nap' that'd taken about three hours and left him muzzy, Angel had come down to find Charlie wringing her hands. Part of the lobby is SINGED, and he's pretty sure that wasn't like that when he got home... but he also didn't hear any alarms go off. So, this was a bit of a mindfuck either way.

"Look toots, it was an accident. Promise I won't try that again... just got curious, alright?" Mimzy is placating, but not apologising. It has the tone and cadence of an apology, but not the intent. Husk is glaring across the room, his wing the only thing holding Vaggie back from launching at the short sinner.

Lucifer is examining the damage to the ceiling with his wings out, and damn, Angel can't help but think about how fuckin' hot their King is when he's all... angelic. Like the opposite of Smiles, sorta... no idea how to categorise it, but they're like the opposite ends of the spectrum unless Lucifer goes all Devil.

So he'd taken to ranking hotness in the hotel on a bored day... try and sue him. Angel'd kill anyone who tried to foreclose on Fat Nuggets.

"Well, sire, is this something you can magic away with a snap or are we going to need to put effort into reinforcing the structure?" Alastor calls up to the King, manifesting without undue surprise at the chaos. "You might want to hurry on your proclamation, Niffty is near vibrating out of her skin with desire to clean the mess... and I need to know what we're telling her."

Indeed, the maid is a red and white blur in one of his hands, held just away from the body, and the impression of a darting eye is somewhere in the disturbing illusion.

"Oh, it's the layabout, come to actually get your hands dirty or just summon thralls for it?" Lucifer comments dryly, doing an unnecessary backflip to hand upside down right in Alastor's face. The sinner looks like he's debating biting it clean off.

"Hilarious, if only you put as much effort into your scathing wit as you do your daughter. Now the question remains am I releaseing Niffty or is this something you need to fix? Are any of the above floors compormised by the damage?"

The King pauses, and looks up again. "...no, they're fine, it's all superficial damage that canbe handled easy enough. I can just snap it back to how it was, you know, Niff...ty?"

The name isn't that hard to remember, but the king is clearly proud all the same. She pauses. "No, I want to, mr big bad boy!"

"Poetry." Alastor hums, and releases Niffty along with a handful of small dolls from his shadows. They take up cleaning under Niffty's directions. "We should leave them to it."

His head does a full one-eighty before his body follows, aiming right at Mimzy. Angel winces, shoulders tensing at the crunch. He's never gonna get used to that...

"Now, Magnolia, you are going to explain what you thought you were doing and why you shouldn't be thrown out of this hotel. Actually apologising for the damages you wrought would be the best place to start." He prompts, as his power surges green around them and little runes flicker into the air. Mimzy appears like she might have recognised she fucked up. Just a bit.

"Al, baby, you and Husky know sometimes I just get clumsy... it was an accident." she placates, waving it off but taking a step closer to Charlotte.

"Then apologise to Charlotte, and try to mean it. We both know you're only here because whoever you have bothered to the point of needing protection is unlikely to try and extract you from under the Princess's care. The least you could do is not destroy the place within the first few months of operation..."

She heaves a dramatic sigh, "Fine. Princess toots, I'm sorry I set a few things on fire and broke that statue, I didn't mean to. Your weird candle making positivity lecture thing wasn't ear-bleeding or excruciating to be part of either!"

"That's... okay, Mimzy. After all, we can fix this. But... I feel like maybe we might try a one on one talk therapy option to find out why you feel the need to cause chaos and ruin everything good in your life, but we can talk about that later. Okay?"

Mimzy looks about three seconds from slapping Charlie right across the face. "There ain't nothing wrong with me, you spoiled, priviledged little goody two-shoes. We didn't all come from some fuckin' ivory tower where everything was handed out to us, and that gave us weird quirks. So back right off with that condescending bullshit."

Vaggie is interjecting spear-first when it's yanked from her hands by an inky black tendril. "Vagatha, not every situation calls for the nuclear option. Or are you desperate to return to the days of killing off sinners for merely existing in a way you dislike?" Alastor snarls. Something about the situation has pivoted the Radio Demon's opinion in a heartbeat. Maybe it was the angelic steel pointed at someone who may somehow care for.

Strangely, Husk moves behind Mimzy and puts a paw on her shoulder. "Drop it Mim, she's not... ready to see things that way. And you do cause absolute fuckin' chaos wherever you go. No two ways about it. But... if things're that bad out there you need to be here, you need to learn to work inside the rules."

"Oh fuck you, Husk! Because we were always sooooo good at doing what society thought we should... huh? You two abandoned me, after everything we went through, so you owe me some goddamn backup when im dealing with princess privileged over there!"

"And how many more decades were you intending to keep rehashing that line? We've dragged you out of insane situations hundreds of time individually and together, Mimz, and you just seem to find another one. Sounds self-destructive to me... trust me, I'd know." said the alcoholic, shrugging. "Your afterlife though. But you don't get to disrespect Charlie like that and get away with it."

She pouts, deeply, and rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine. Look, Im here for my own reasons but it... ain't as bad as I said, Princess. I'm sure we can... find something to chat about, gal-to-gal, in your little therapy sessions. But you need to tone it down... no wonder people ain't flocking here, you're too..." she waves a hand at the radiating positivity and uncertainty. "That."

"What I believe you are trying to say, is that you have concerns about the qualifications of our dear Charlotte to provide psychotherapy, given her perspective on life is very... limited compared to that of sinners. And that she could not possibly understand the complexities of what being taken for mental health support in our time meant... or who would be targeted. Correct?" Alastor says, looming over her and ignoring Vaggie tugging her spear back from his tentacle.

Charlie frowns. "What does that mean? What was it like? The pamphlets I have show rehabilitation facilities and psychologists..."

That startles a laugh out of Angel. "Oh, Char-Char... even in my time... which was after those guys... it was bad. You either got drugged up until you couldn't feel a fucking thing or have a thought society didn't wantcha to have, or they shocked your brain until you were all blank potato inside. Oooh, there was also the chance they'd lobotomise you, get in there with what was like a big piece of metal andd just scoop out ya brain... or maybe you've be used for a psychotropic drug trial, so they can see what happens. Or they could just lock ya up or keep you in one'a them insulin comas until you died. It was fucked up... you're lucky these guys're even willing to hear you out about therapy 'cause we'd all have been targets for involuntary treatment in the day."

Charlie's mouth is hanging open. "That's horrible! Why would anyone do that? Doctors are supposed to help people!"

"They thought they were, Charlie. But this was also the time when there was one Normal set of people and the rest of the world was Wrong. So, when you see something as Less then... anything is fair game. You know they didn't use anaesthesia on animals or babies until the 80s right? Didn't think they could feel pain right." Husk grumbled, only pulling back when he saw Charlie was about to start sobbing.

"ENOUGH!" Lucifer boomed, pulling everything to a close and shoving the sinners out of the way in all directions with his wings as he went to comfort Charlie. "Honey, it's okay, it's okay there may have been some things that happened in human history that weren't great... but none of that is happening now! You're doing great with the sinners!"

"B-but they DID happen... and th-the-the sinners I'm trying to h-h-h-hell-help lived through it! No wonder we c-can't get mooooooore!" she sibs, and Vaggie is there, stroking Charlie's hair and making soothing noises.

Angel is hauling Husk to his feet, and turning to help pull Mimzy off off of Alastor, eyes warily watching the volatile Devil in the periphery. Sure, the Devil form was hot as well... but there was little rationality in there when Charlie was upset or in any way at risk of harm, even if only the emotional kind.

"No wonder she's sheltered, if that's how his high'n'mighty reacts to her gettin' a reality check. You're lucky I'm here, boys, I think there's some things a gal needs to share with your little redemptionist over there." Mimzy frowns, resettling her bazongas in the short attire and pumping her hair. "She's got moxxie, I like her, but this ain't gonna fix nobody. Not if she doesn't get the chance to hear the shit we slogged through to get here. Not everything in life is rainbows, and I'll be damned again if I let miss sunshine over there come at this the wrong way."

"Hey Mimz, you good? I know Al's bony but didn't think you'd landed hard enough for that level of blood." Husk prods at her dress, and she glances down. He frowns immediately, putting some things together. "Not yours. Shit, how long have you been hiding that, Al? Thought you learned your lesson on that shit after we ran into that mob family in 28."

For his part, Alastor was sititng up against the nearby wall, disgruntled from being so carelessly batted aside by Lucifer. All powerful arrogant angelic bastard. You could feel the anger simmering behind that smile... always had it out for authority figures, even in life.

Blood was clearly leaking from beneath his shirt, not that the deer was willing to acknowledge it. Mimzy sat right down on the man's lap, no hesitation, and Angel thought he was going to choke on his own tongue at the sight. Anyone else tried that, they'd be in pieces right now. Except maybe Husk... now he knew about that little dynamic. Or, maybe Niffty? But she was different, crawled all over the guy.

Angel was about 60% sure Alastor would laugh if he tried that under normal flirtatious circumstances, because that's the dynamic they've cultivated... but right now, he'd die. Straight up no hesitation.

"It's fine, Mag-... Mimzy landing on me when the melancholy mallard shoved us out of the way simply snapped the remaining stitches. It's nowhere near as dramatic as it looks, I assure you."

"Gotta be angelic of some kind if it ain't healed yet." Husk narrows his eyes, expertly deflecting the hands that tried to stop him from opening the topmost layer of coat. He'd clearly played this game before. "Thought something was fucked when Adam went to try and get Charlie, couldn't find you after..."

"Then you understand why it is vital such information is kept from the prying eyes of sinners who might run to another overlord with that information, yes?" Alastor snipes back, tone low to avoid drawing royal attention. His tendrils glitch but manage to grab Mimzy and pull her off him... only for the space to immediately fill with Husk. The bartender not even twitching an eye.

"You gonna calm down and let me see? I could tell the king we might need some help..." Husk grins, and Angel is shocked to see Alastor's ears go flat against his head. What the FUCK he thought those were like hair tufts?!

"Do it, and I tell everyone about what happened at Madame Rosary's speakeasy in 1932, and why we were banned."

"Says more about you than me..." Husk actually hesitates.

"Please. Smiles. I'll do anything to know what happened." Angel interjects, rummaging in his chest fluff for his mini first aid kit - always helpful when you worked for a guy like Val. "I'll suck ya di-..."

"Ah, Husker, it seems you already told him the story!" Alastor teased, as the cat's expression flushed under the fur. Mimzy smacked the overlord over one of his ears, earning her a wounded glare.

"Hey, you tell it properly or the hot spider guy's gonna think all the wrong things about that night. Now stop distracting so we can deal with this... and don't you dare shadow yourself elsewhere, or I'LL start talking about the nights in the cabin. I'm sure that fuckin' picture box'd pay top dollar for that information..."

Alastor begins to waver slightly.

Husk digs his claws into the man's injured side. "Hey, no translating into radio waves neither, you're predictable when you're cornered smart ass. It's why we-... forget it. This ain't good, and we need to get this sorted before someone sees, alright?"

"Sees what?" Vaggie asks, suspicious disdain dripping from the tone. Only to pull up short. "Did... did I do that?"

She darts her eye to the tip of her reclaimed spear.

"No." comes the clipped reply as Husk is garbbed by the scruff with a tendril and hoited into the air. Alastor shoved himself upright with less grace than normal, surprisingly even himself with the sudden complexity of the task. "I would ask you to ignore this little situation, and I will handle Mimzy's antics. Go see to your girlfriend..."

Vaggie tenses.

Alastor's tone softens. "Vagatha, on top of today's upset I strongly suspect that she is still quite burdened by the loss of her little dragon friend and the snake fellow. I have caught her staring at their respective monuments on at least four occasions today alone. There is more going on under the surface than she is willing to allow you to see... so I would kindly suggest you stop poking your nose into my business and go play loyal but loving knight to your princess."

"Fine. But not because you told me to."

"That's the spirit!"

"You're still so good at playing up the charm when you tell someone to fuck off, Al." Mimzy giggled, playfully batting him on the shoulder. "But enough about that, let's patch this up or I'm gonna go tattle to Rosie that you hid this from her and you know what she'll do."

Husk and Alastor's expressions went frighteningly blank for the barest heartbeat.

"That will NOT be necessary my dear Magnolia. If I find you shared this information, I will send you through regeneration myself."

"No you won't Boss. C'mon..." Husk says, reasserting normality with the one sentence, enough that even Alastor seemed to relax. "We can fix this up in the kitchen, they won't come in there. Don't think either of 'em have ever cooked without magic in their entire lives..."

Angel paused outside the kitchen, uncertain if he would be allowed in as well. The decision was made for him by Mimzy, who dragged the starlet inside by his lapels and sent a pointed glare at the now-watching royal family (and to-be, in the case of Vaggie). A real 'stay outta this' that meant business.

Realistically, it was like an ant threatening a god... but the point was, Mimzy had at least vaguely attempted to make a claim here.

Angel pauses as the doors swing shut, beacuse not only is the coat off but Alastor is allowing Husk to help remove the undershirt and this is more of Alastor than he's ever seen before. It's like seeing your PE teacher in a ballgown or something, sure it's possible... but you never think about it, so it doesn't really exist ni your universe.

Apart from the fluff there, and boy does he wanna compare to see if it's as soft as his own or Husk's. He vaguely wonders if anyone in Hell knows that... but then, he'd learned all sorts of shit about these three in the past few months. The kind of shit that blew his mind.

He thought his human life had been unusual, 'cause of the drugs and sex and mob violence... but it was only a different kind of chaotic nightmare. None of the affectionate one for all three musketeers type relationship these three had had going on, though. Would've been nice.

Vaguely, he hands over the first aid kit he'd found in his chest fluff. It had an enchantment on it to make it bigger on the inside, you could hide something palm sized in his fluff, easy enough, but you couldn't store much in it that'd be useful without a little magic.

Husk is already tugging the damaged bandages off, trying to be careful despite the urgency he was clearly feeling. A lot of the blood was getting to the sticky stage where it went glue like, and that always felt like a nightmare to pull off of fur.

"Fuck me sideways..." Angel murmurs, as the full extent of the injury is bared. There were signs of healing at the furthest edges, but the torn stitches frame the rest of the very much still angry and weeping wound from shoulder to opposing waist. The snapped cords had pulled and bruised at the skin, and there was this persistent Heat to it.

"Why, as we've established through viewing your delightfully bizarre show and tell submissions, my good fellow, I believe many others have beaten us to such a feat." Alastor laughs, and there's no disdain or cruelty in the tone. It's just a jibe. Like he does to Husk on occasion... cool, cool, so he's not going to be eaten for protein. Excellent.

Husk puts a paw right beside the wound. "Can you stop goddamn talking and laughing, you self-destructive asshole? The whole thing keeps gaping so hard I think your guts are going to fall out." There's a pause as he whips around to point at Angel and Mimzy, "Do NOT."

"That's what he said!" the pair chorus, and startle the other.

"Oh... I think we're keeping this one, he's got a helluva sense of humour. This the guy you're sweet on Husky?" Mimzy bats her eyelashes, grinning knowingly. "I see you still like 'em tall and gorgeous..."

Husk growls back. "Hey, can you do a little more helping and a little less trying to hook us up. And what do you mean 'still' name one other-..."

Alastor is actually looking at him with his ears partially down. "Are you saying I wasn't tall and gorgeous to you Husker? You absolute cad!"

Husk seems to be trying to work out if he's being played or the crazy bastard is serious. The grin is hard to work around until you start to notice Smiles' quirks.

"I'm pretty sure you're fucking with me, Al... but you know you were always stunning, you bastard. Well, actually, no. The only one who didn't notice was literally YOU... had to beat people off with a stick, me and Mim, not that you ever noticed." The cat rolls his eyes, handing an antiseptic pad over to Mimzy, and smiling as Angel intercepted it.

"You what now?" a burble of radio stations changing filled the air as the Radio Demon's confusion let his control slip for a moment. A sharp static screech rang out at the first touch of the pad to the wound.

"You. Were. HOT." Husk elaborates. "For a cocky motherfucker who liked to spread chaos and pick fights with people in bigger weight classes, just for the hell of it. You think I would've stuck around for all that crazy if you two weren't ridiculously attractive?"

Alastor lets out a dramatic gasp. "Why Husker, are you suggesting you only liked us for our Looks? How dare you say such a thing, reducing us to mere arm dressing you cruel cassanova! Mimzy be outraged for us both I don't have the bandwidth right now."

"Well what answer do you want? I can never tell with you." Husk sighs, exasperated, but in a fond way. "I never regretted the crazy shit you both brought into my life, or being with you, and yes you were attractive in life so that factored in. But when you died it fell apart. Happy?"

"I would be if-" Alastor pauses with a hiss as Angel carefully dabbed at a rather persistent trickle from the middle of the wound. "If you could stop using past tense about our general attractiveness..."

Husk's tail paused mid-twitch, ears alert. "What?"

"Hah, he didn't realise. Well, I find both looks appealing, but you know me... it's also about if the sweet inside the wrapper is just as good. And I knew you two had my back, back then... if not now."

"Okay, first of all Maggie, you start shit all over Hell and then run to us for help. It gets old fast, especially when we literally spent half our human lives doing that. You don't do as much reciprocating here. "

She waggles her eyebrows. "Oh, if you wanted me to get Reciprocal you should have said husky..."

"Not what I meant and you know it. When was the last time you pitched in to solve our problems, huh?"

She pouts and crosses her arms. "Hey, I helped with that fish overlord... and I helped confuse Vox enough that time to help you both break out of his clutches!"

"I-... yeah, okay, fair."

"And I';'ve been lookin' into something for Al for his dea-...mppph!"

"You know about that too? How the fuck...? Al, you need to warn me that Mimz knows, she's a potential leak for this mess." Husker rounds on the guy, and Angel feels the slight flinch under his hands. "I know you can't talk about it, but whatever the fuck is happening, you can at least give me some part of the mess to help."

"Why?" Alastor asks.

"Why?" Angel finds himself echoing accidentally, taking on a small pair of scissors to remove the remaining sutures. They're not ideal, but he'd used worse in his days as an impromptu medic in life and on the set. He feels eyes fall on him, and the heat of them is... it feels like a sniper dot for the intensity.

"I mean... he owns your souls right? Even if you did have some throuple type shit going on on earth, and it sounds like ya did, right now he Owns You. Why would you even care if the guy who owns you is on a leash, much less help him? Right now... this could be your chance to get your souls back,"

He startles as two different sets of hands grab his wrists, and mentally plays back the conversation. "Whoa, I don't mean I'm a threat or nothing I'm just... trying to figure this out. Cause I don't-... it wouldn't be like that for anyone else, I don't think. You get this golden opportunity for freedom AND power on a plate but you'restanding here throwing it away. I can't think of any other sinner who would. Hell, I've seen family betray one another for a sniff of this type of chance."

"That's the thing, Angel Dust, emotional bonds are far stranger and prone to logical fallacy than any other. They do not kill me or use this as a chance for freedom, because... I strongly suspect some part of them still cares if I live or die." Alastor chuckles darkly. "Long after I myself stopped caring. But, if you must know, their deals are not anything like yours. I made them to protect them. No one touches what belongs to the Radio Demon... and no one tries to gather a debt from one of those under my charge. Be it cash or flesh."

"You can see how it's fucked up to like, enslave your friends right? Friends? Lovers? Partners? Whatever ya are."

"Perhaps, but this is hell. Did you not also make strange decisions under the influence of affection? What would you do to keep Miss Bomb safe if you had the power to make deals? What of your piglet... or, hmmm, Husker here? Dont worry, I don't ask out of jealousy, merely curious." Alastor purrs, claws digging through the steel benchtop as Angel has to tug at a thread. "Steady on, my effeminate fellow... that's unfortunately very aware of your ministrations."

"Just say it hurts, Smiles. I've been there and have the season pass at this point for this kindsa shit. Nearly done, though." He pokes his tongue out the side of his mouth in concentration. "You know, this... heat... or whatever it is, I don't think it's normal. Might be an infection? Can angelic steel cause infections? I never knew anyone alive long enough after an Extermination to know."

"I... have no idea! There's the fun of it! But you can survive an angelic blade, it merely takes far longer to heal that you would expect. Quite the nuisance when other overlords are always sniffing around seeking weaknesses."

"Yeah, I can imagine it sucks being all powerful and getting humbled like that." Angel snipes back, suddenly angry. Not with Al, not per say, but the idea of Overlords in general just seemed to flick a switch.

"Being a run of the mill sinner may seem a nightmare, Angel, but there's hidden dangers attached to being an Overlord that I don't expect you to understand." Alastor frowned, tone... not patronising, but perhaps tired. "At the moment you look over your shoulder every time you leave a location to see what chaos the world is bringing and if it intends you harm. But you, a sinner with a claim on you, know that there will be likely retribution should someone hurt you... apart from the moth, that is."

"And what? You big guys have it worse?"

"No. No I'm saying that the same applies to overlords, but the people waiting in the dark are on another level. Everyone you meet wants something, Angel, and they are always watching to see you fail. Every deal brings power and a soul, but it equally means another one to watch over and protect. If you fall, they fall. And if you should gain the attention of the wrong person... things can jeopardise your souls."

There's a pause as Angel applies a numbing agent to the tattered skinaround and in the wound. Alastor seemed confused by such a gesture, clearly having braced for the matter to be dealt with otherwise.

"I'm not going to sew you up without giving you something, you weird ass deer... I know you overlords are tough but... you don't always have to be, right? Wait, hold on, have you been doing this yourself without even the decency of a panadol or two? You-..." it dissolves into some sort of italian then.

Alastor looks to Husk for a translation, sees the grimace, and decides not to ask. "Angel, even you benefit from being so known, from being Valentino's and part of the Vees. Not in a good eay, but there is a fear about what reprisal would exist if someone tried something not sanctioned by your overlord. There is a sick comfort in that, correct? If someone toppled your moth tomorrow, you wouldn't know anything about the person taking ownership of your soul... not how to appease them, or what they wanted. A level of fear and dread you haven't had to face for decades I assume?"

"Yeah...?" Angel asks, prodding at the area and noting the slight flinch. He puts more cream over the injury and waits.

"A good overlord, and I assume there have to be some out there, cares about at least some of the souls under them. For example, if someone harmed Niffty I would turn them inside out and hold their soul in their body until they had expressed enough sincere apology that they deserved the chance to die." The air went thick with scrambled distortion and symbols for just a moment, before it flickered out. "Why, they practically beg for death at the end, ha hah! In anycase, it is imperative for someone with souls under them to ensure they maintain their status. Both as a means of self-protection, and to keep those leashed to them safe. But every soul you contract may choose to harm you unless specified specifically otherwise in their deal... and even then a third party may be used or an injury that Could be Fatal can be imbued. It's all about the wording. And that's before you even consider the threat of other Sovereigns against yourself... and any hint of weakness results in everything crumbling."

"I get it, we're fucked no matter which end of the pyramid we sit on right? Just.. differently. I don't think I'd handle that sorta pressure, same way I don't think you'd switch places with me for anything." Angel shrugs, touching the wound again and getting no response. "Hold still, I was always good at my threadwork but flesh is always a little tougher than fabric you know."

"Husker, find out whatever is in that little kit of your paramour, and ensure that we order twice the amount of whatever was used. I would not like to hear that he ran out simply because his generosity outweighed his common sense."

"Sure thing boss..." Husk said, turning away the small smirk that was threatening to grow across his features. He leans in close to Angel. "That's his way of sayin' I think he likes you, and he appreciates the care you've shown. He's just a stubborn fucking ass about it, always has been. I think if he had a genuine emotional heart to heart it might kill him."

"Sounds like someone wants me to drop his soul from my list and let you manage your own debts, hmmm?"

"Nah, you won't." Husker grins. "You still love me, even after all this shit. Or you wouldn'tt put up with a fraction of the nonsense Mimzy and I get up to."

He received an audience booing for his troubles, but those ears were twitching as if unsure whether they wanted to pin back. Alastor seemed to think on his response before opening his mouth to retort...

The moment is ruined by the doors being blasted open and Lucifer strides in, flanked by Charlie and Vaggie. Both holding his arms and pulling as if to stop the King, but not exactly succeeding.

"Okay Bambi, we need to talk about your little degenerate friend-... what the fuck happened to you?" The king pulls up short, confused at the scene before him. Charlie gasps, and her eyes are filling with tears again before Vaggie can get there to assuage her.

"Nothing that requires your interference, your lowness, and rest assured I have spoken to Mimzy about maintaining her manners. She has agreed to make more appropriate conversational decisions in future... but let's be realisitic here, sire, this was going to happen eventually. Charlie has only ever known Hell, and the version you and... her mother... cultivated. Of course she wouldn't understand the complexities of human lives, of societies, and of the inherent power and control put in place even in systems made to help those struggling with various issues. Such as Mimzy and husker pointed out."

"Listen asshole, there's such a thing as easing people into terrible news, you could try it." Lucifer snarls back, eyes flickering to red.

"Forgive me, your majesty, but isn't Charlie older than literally everyone else in this room excepting yourself? That seems a long time to leave her ignorant... human history is a subject that will never end if you don't start teaching the fundamentals now. Why, ha-hah, if you think about it, each day passed adds more to the curriculum!"

"Did I like, knock you into a wall or something? Or is he generally this level of asshole even without a concussion?" Lucifer asked the room at large. Waving it off magnanimously, he points at the wound. "That's not going to heal for the next decade if you keep using basic first aid at it, there's Angelic Grace in it, idiot. For that you'd need, oh, well look at that... Me... to remove it."

"No, a decade isn't that long in terms of eternity, little majesty. I can wait." Alastor parries, noting that Husker and Mimzy have shifted slightly to be between them. Angel continues sewing flesh back together, warily watching Lucifer from the corner of his eyes.

"Fair enough, suffer then. But if your annoying thrall ever causes my Charlie that level of distress again, I end both of you."

"Dad, please, we just talked about this!" Charlie hissed. "I need to know this sort of stuff to help, and yes it was shocking and I was upset... but not for ME! For Mimzy and Al and Husk and Angel and the thousands of Sinners who went through that, who might be afraid of help because of their experiences in the past... and that's before coming to Hell. Imagine how they feel now?"

"I heard you, Duckling, but my point stands. There's a right way and a wrong way... and he's probably doing it for entertainment."

"Well so what? He's helped us, and fought for us and clearly it's my fault THAT happened..." she gestures at the wound. "So if all I get back is the occasional uncomfortable truth and an offer to have like, people for dinner, that's fine with me. We're okay, dad."

"What was that bit about eating people?"

"Oh unclench your tightness, it's a joke. I know sinner is an accquired taste..." Alastor waves off, and gets a silent look of reproach from Angel who nearly dropped the needle into the wound at the unexpected movement.

"Yeah, what's that taste like? Chiken, pork?"

"Ah, it differs from person to person..." A laugh track plays and the spider snorts, oh that was TERRIBLE. "And besides, my good arachnid, I would have thought of all people present you'd be well versed in having sinner meat in your mo-...mmmph?"

Husk had slapped a paw over the smart mouth, as Angel's fell open in shock. Had the overlord just seriously made that joke?

"Ignore him, he gets difficult when he's injured and you left the door open for that one."

"No, I mean, that was fuckin' hilarious and I didn't expect it outta Smiles. Where has this rude sense of humour been the whole time we've been livin' here?"

Mimzy scoffed at Al. "You still playing polite hotelier? Pfft, okay that's fair, miss pretty princess there might straight up die if you made one of your fancy word naughty quips at her."

"She's made of sterner stuff, ususally, I promise." Alastor mutters, as Husk removes the paw warily. Thinks better of it, and covers the man's mouth again before a pussy based joke escapes. He's suffering enough in hell without the terrible puns.

"Can you behave, Al? Some of us are having a heck of a day and that was before we find out you were hiding this sort of shit again." Husk mumbles, letting his shoulders sag and the wings droop a little. Mimzy would be vocal as hell about injuries, and Husk would be stoic until they were safely out of the firing line, but Al used to do the old 'oop, i think im feeling off' and then collapse on you bullshit. This was toeing the line here for husk's tolerance.

Lucifer rolls up his sleeves, after some pointed whispering from Charlie, and approaches. Alastor rears back snarling with all his teeth. Angel fumbles for the thread.

"Can you stop it there Short King, I'm nearly done and you're sending the patient into bloodlust."

"What? Oh, don't worry about it, I can pin him down easy enough... King of Hell and all. Overlords mean nothing to me."

Angel felt anger rise up, and noted the way Al stiffened. "hold up, ya Majesty. Might want to rethink that statement cause it sounded fuckin' awful, and pro tip... just cause you CAN doesn't mean you Should. Val can pin me down and pour acid in my face if he's mad, but it don't mean I want him to. He could also do it to put a bandaid on a burn he's given me. Same sentiment though."

That pulls Lucifer up short, and the angel frog blinks. "What? I'm just going to pull that Grace out, he should be thanking me?"

"You could try asking, or not making it sound like you're forcing yourself on someone... that kinda language is really fucking triggering when you've been there. And I know you've been overhearing Mimz here prattle on about their lives up top, you know full well that they've all dealt with being forced, being made to do something, even if it never got far. Like with me. The memory doesn't distinguish that... your brain tells your body to panic."

Angel finds he's furious at the King, and for what? Some words? The intent behind them? The fact that he felt Alastor shaking for just a split second before the Overlord overrode that reaction with anger?

"I didn't-..."

"You didn't think. No. I get that, it's just... you need to, though. Little things can send you into a spiral... I know you know what that's like. I've got eyes, Short King, you've been there too."

"Well, okay, I apologise for setting everyone off with my words. I'll use a better statement next time, okay? Now if the big bad overlord is done having all the regular sinners defend him, can he please be a big boy and let me get this over with?"

Oh, there go the antlers.

Husk puts a wing between them. "Just want to put it out there, your majesty, that being talked down to by authority and referred to as 'boy' or 'girl' as an adult is... something pretty common in our time. For It was the racism, you see. Might want to pull back on that too. Hard to tell in sinner form what everyone was before, but the memories don't fade out that fast. Still gets me heated under the collar when I hear it."

"Er, okay... then could the big angry deer please let me within like a foot of him so I can pull the Grace out, because you're functionally useless..." there's a very pointed pause, and you can feel a fight coming on, but it's suddenly clear his majesty has zoned out. Vaggie claps her hands near the King's ear. "What? Oh, what was I saying? There's something pressing on the wards... not sure what though."

Alastor closes his eyes, and grimaces. "Worry not, that's merely Vox seeking to play voyeur again. I will deal with it in a moment."

"Are you sure? I could swat him like That!"

"It's a matter of principle, if Vox is turned away by you, he will wonder why I didn't do it. And he will either come himself, or send another spy... and despite Charlie's best attempts, I'm not certain the next one will be swayed by a song about apologies."

"...fair. What was I saying? Something about that rendering you useless at defending the place? Whatever, I don't technically have to touch you, but it could help make it faster."

"...if you must."

In a painfully awkward 45 seconds, the King presses two fingertips to the still open portion of wound and concentrates until small globules of something metallic and bright begin to at the location. They seem to be expanding from unseen miniscule amounts over time.

Carefully pulling away, Lucifer calls the droplets to him, letting them sink into his palm and disappear. "Whew, okay, that was more than I thought. All gone though, so that mess will heal on its own at the normal rate. And if we're lucky, there'll be no Charlie the 2nd out of that one..."

Everyone pauses. "What?"

"Kidding, you should see your faces! It took a decade of concentrated energy and some very specific magic to create you, Sweetie, you were planned out more meticulously than the construction of any Ring in Hell. Just wanted to crack a joke, you're all so tense. Sheesh, touchy much today?"

"Please don't ever try comedy your majesty, your little clown outfit if more than enough..." Alastor retorts dryly. Angel carefully returns to the task of closing the wound the last two or so inches and ties off the thread. "Thank you my good man."

His expression glitches for a moment, before the lights flicker and something explodes outside. "Vox has been thoroughly removed from the premises, for now. Do pay attention to any update requests you may get on those infernal devices, the terms and conditions can allow Vox to use your phone as a portal if you agree. Not to mention they're all just pretty little spy cameras for him... though not here, thankfully."

Husk and Mimzy are passing a bandage around the too-thin torso, and the fact Alastor isn't protesting, means that this wouldn't be the first time. And he clearly knows he wouldn't win if he tried.

The minute it's tucked square away, Husk smack the overlord on the undamaged side of his chest. "Don't pull this shit again."

"Aw, don't be mean Husky... you know you love playing nursemaid." Mimzy titters, winking at him until the cat hisses back.

"I've got a whole costume for that if you wanna try that on for size...?" Angel offers, enjoying seeing two sets of animal airs flicker his way then flatten. "Oh c'mon, don't I get a little something for today?"

"You can have a date with Husker and the satisfaction of eating part of the moth when I get the time to kill him in a challenge. How does that sound?" Alastor offers vaguely, slipping his shirts closed and buttoning rapidly to the throat. "Try pushing the outfits again and I will have Niffty alphabetise your growing toy collection according to her own internal narrative."

Angel gasps in horror. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh but I would!" Alastor grins, sharply, and Mimzy laughs. "Now go and do something that isn't gawping at us, and I shall look over what we have in the pantry for dinner. Mimzy, you would burn this palce down and you will recall a no-cooking clause in our deal, so please vacate the area. But do try to ease up on the my dear Charlotte, and at least pretend to capitulate to her exercises... you are a resident after all."

She grumbles, crossed arms and petulant expression on full display. "Thanks I get for keepin my boys alive,I tell ya, no gratitude..."

Lucifer rolls his eyes, "Okay, enough of this... I'm going to check the small red one hasn't destroyed the hotel. Coming, Charlie? Vaggie?"

"Er, sure..." Charlie seems slightly shellshocked and leans against Vaggie as they follow her father out. "Today's been... a lot."

Angel rubs his arm, awkwardly. "So uh, you don't mind if I like take Husk for drinks or something? I never really worked out what your status is down here."

"Husker is free to do as he wants... and he likes you. I suppose I am rather fond of you as well, given how well you handle a crisis and your commitment to the hotel. Especially now that we can see the real you under that fake persona..." Alastor replies.

Angel can't help but chuckle. "Pot. Kettle. Smiles."

"True. How bold of you to sass an Overlord, Angel. You will be an intriguing addition... should you wish it."

"Like... as a soul on your chain when you kill Val, or to this whatever it is? Cause no offence, but I don't do broads outside'a films and when Val's holding me hostage for cash. And I dunno how I'd feel about all of you anyway, that's a lot..."

husk rolls his eyes. "He doesn't mean date us, just like, putitng up with them and dating me. If you want. They're kind of attached, even if it ain't official anymore... call it karmic bullshit or something. We can be exclusive if you'd like, though; I haven't messed about with them since before I died."

Angel let out an indignant squeak. "What? You got these two hotties here and you ain't even tried their demonic forms out for a test drive? Husk, Husker, Whiskers, baby, are you serious? I'm almost tempted to do it for you..."

"...please do restrain yourself, if at all possible, Angel. I think we've contaminated the counters enough for one day." Alastor responds, wiping down the same with an antibacterial spray Charlie insisted they utilise. "And if dearest Vagatha came in, we may just kill her from shock to see someone misappropriating the kitchen in such a manner..."

Angel needs a long moment as his brain pauses to absorb several creative visuals. "Uh.... I mean, I got time and there's still heaps in that cleaner, right? Maybe you could get Spooky Jnr to keep Vaggie out?"

"Oooh, I'm game if you are... won't touch ya, but I'll be here." Mimzy grins, taking in all of Angel.

Husk covers his eyes with a paw and groans. "Okay, for one, no one's getting up to anything in here because I think we'd all prefer to break in our sinner forms somewhere more comfortable than this. Two, you you fucking idiot are injured and we're not breaking those stitches again. And for three, this one is mine until further notice so back off..."

"Wait, wait, wait, NONE of you have gotten frisky in these forms?"

"There's never been a need, or a time when the three of us were on the same page and in a similar headspace." Alastor shrugged.

Mimzy rolled her eyes, "Listen, I've got a busy schedule so... I was getting to it. Also a lot shorter than I used to be so that took some getting used to."

"Not to mention SOME ASSHOLE disappeared for like 7 years without warning just when everyone was finally getting along and addressing the shit we needed to from our sudden deaths." Husker replied.

"There was a reason, I just can't say. Not yet, anyway." Alastor shrugged. "Why, did you miss meeeeee....?"

"...yes, you smug fuck, of course we did. Niffty was fucking beside herself it took Rosie and me to keep her from throwing herself at angels during Exterminations..."

The ears drooped. "Ah... well, if it's any consolation, I didn't choose to leave. It turns out you can be summoned by people in-..." the words crackles off into a forced silence. The shadow pointed upwards.

Angel felt his eyes blow wide. "No fuckin' way. Who could have the power to-..."

The answer jumped out at him, something from an earlier conversation about Charlie. The way everything hinged on her and pushing Lucifer away.

"It's... the other parent, ain't it? Of your not-kid, Charlie, right?"

"...you are too clever by half to be just a porn starlet, dear Angel."

Husk's fur bristled. "What's she got on you? Why give someone like that your soul?"

"Lack of choice. Like I said, I am familiar with angelic wounds."

"Healed by that person? Or made by that person?"

"Ah, husker, why not both? No need to dwell on it for now. There is nothing immediate that needs managing. You have a date with your arachnid... you still have your card?"

"What? Of course I do, you know I do why are you trying to distract me from this?"

"Because nothing can be changed now. So why worry? Feel free to have dinner out, I will leave portions of whatever I come up with in the fridge for you, should you decide to go dancing or some other exhausting outlet that means dinner is not quite enough."

Behind the deer's back, Angel and Husk shared a Look. Mimzy nodded at them, and Alastor tensed for reasons he didn't understand.

"Actually, I'd like to stay and see what you're making. My Nonna and Ma taught me a whole bunch of stuff but nothing like what you cook. You mind?" Angel offers.

"Its been a while since we all made a meal together... and I promise to keep an eye on Mimzy so she doesn't set anything ablaze." Husker adds.

"Hey, you don't complain when I offer other options for dinner..." Mimzy simpers, and the collective groan in the room makes her laugh so hard she almost falls off the bench. "Oh, c'mon, that was a good one."

"Yeah yeah..." Husk rolls his eyes and washes his hands. "What do you need me to chop up for this?"

Angel watches the process like a hawk, cheerfully asking to take on dicing the meat when he sees the overlord flagging as the repetitive motion wears on his wakening nerves about the injury.

Mimzy is exceptionally helpful and not at all a menace, as long as someone is paying attention to her actions the whole time.

It's not clear when the room filled with soft music, but it was nice. The aroma of a meal nearly done wafted about, and it took a moment before anyone noticed the deer had fallen asleep atop one of the chairs. Tucked into a corner, one elbow on the bench and his head resting on the hand attached.

The music emanated from him, somehow.

"Aw, fuck me that's cute..." Angel grins. He'd have to burn this into his brain cause if he took a photo it'd wake Al, and Vox'd have a field day with that kind of image.

"...you should've seen him when he was alive." Mimzy murmured back. "Cute, less red... just as easy to trick into exhausting himself when he was being stubborn about it."

"One of my best magic tricks was getting these two to look after themselves." Husk shrugged, huffing a chuckle as he plated up some of the thick, chunky stew. "Now dig in before it gets cold, and I'll drop some plates out at the dining table."

"You could get Niffty to-... oh, nope, she's found Al already."

Angel blinks across the room to find Niffty fast asleep in Al's lap. She hadn't been there a second ago and they were facing the only doors. So how...?

His thoughts slowed as he took a bite of the stew, and suddenly the starlet realised he might just have to join this crazy whatever it was with Husk and the others, just to get food like this everyday. If his Nonna was here, he's sure she'd want the recipe.

But, as good things in Hell often do, the moment was spoiled by the sound of his phone going off. He had work to get to.

Well, at least it was just some backcountry pumpkin-based fuckfest. Nothing he couldn't handle.

---

Or so he thought.

The minute he arrives, the chain manifests, dragging him into the dressing room set aside for Angel Dust.

He panics, mentally, trying to think about what he might have done or not done to get this response. Only to come face to face with Valentino AND Vox.

Vox leans forwards in his chair, grabbing hold of the chain and pulsing blue up the length. Taking temporary ownership.

"Now Angel, I understand you've been spending time with dear Mimzy, that little nightmare, and she's been sharing some fun factoids about the Radio Demon! Some of the others in the hotel were putting bits and piecces out there and our lovely Velvette collected that information on our behalf."

Angel felt his heart plunging into his stomach.

"Yesterday, all of that went silent... so I thought I'd go right to the source. The one who's spent a lot of time around her in the past few days if the photos are to be believed, gathering intel for us. That's what you were doing, right? Of course you were. You love Val, and want to make him happy."

"Yes Mr Vox, of course." he simpers automatically. "Anything for Val...entino."

"Of course, of course! And naturally, given your knowledge, and the heh radiosilence of the last day or so, I think it's only fair that I ask some questions to clarify. How does that sound? Could you tell me the truth, Angel?" Vox grins, looming.

Apologising, even as his heart begins to thunder and his stomach roil with the thick taste of shame and betrayal, Angel feels his smiling lips move. "Of course, Mr Vox... anything for the Vees."

"Good boy, Angel..." Valentino purrs, carding though Angel's hair. "Now tell my Voxxy what he really wants to know... does the radio demon have a tail?"

Angel could have cried from the odd thrill of relief such a stupid satement brought. Please let them all be so vaguely intrusive and easily answered.

"According to Mimzy, yes he does. I havent seen it, but she said it was like a deer's, but red and white and black."

"Is he really with that woman and the cat?"

"It's complicated, they had a thing when they were alive but I can;t get a read on them now. It's like..." he pauses, trying not to be seen as impertinent. "Like the Vees, you all move around each other just knowing how to work as a trio, but if no one was paying attention or you didn't need 'em to know, no one would know if you all shared a bed or whatever. You know?"

"...good answer. Now for the big ticket question... is Alastor still injured after fighting Heaven?"

Angel felt sick. Why can't he have one good thing? This was going to ruin any chance with husk, with Charlotte, and break the fragile trust he'd made with Smiles.

"Yes. He is. But the King did something to fix it, so I dunno."

"...Angel, does Alastor own his own soul?"

He pauses, as if thinking. "Mimzy didn't say anything about that sorta thing, you want me to ask indirectly?"

But that swirling eye was getting so wide, filling his vision.

"Oh, I think you might know some more than that, you just need help to put it together, huh? I know how smart you are Angel..."

"I... don't... think so... something... about... he said..."

"Good boy, yes?"

His mouth is moving on its own and he can't stop it. "Alastor... said something to... Husk... aout being summoned... elswhere. Didn't go by choice... seven years? Don;t know what it means."

"And who do you think owns the Radio Demon, Angel?"

"Think... hates Lucifer... loves Charlie... said something weird... other day... think... Queen?"

Vox's expression went from psychotically aroused to abolute malicious joy in a split second. He released the now dizzy Angel, who flopped forwards right into Valentino's waiting arms.

"Good boy Angel... very good boy. You've done so well." Valentino purrs at him, and Angel feels the hands travelling over his body to the places that tingled up his spine. It was clearly a Reward day.

"Well, that changes the game completely, my old friend..." Vox murmurs, as Angel is steered across the room to the plush couch and a half dozen hands toy with his every nerve. Vox watches detachedly.

If only he could warn them that Vox knew.

If only-... but he couldn't, not yet. The contract was in place for now.

Time to perform, and then get home.

As Valentino did his best to show Angel his pleasure for a task well done, Angel found his mind wandering back to thoughts about cooking earlier. And he vaguely wondered if there'd be stew in the fridge when he returned...

"Good boy, Angel..." Valentino whispered, and his body shuddered but his mind was already at the hotel.

"Thank you Daddy..." he whispers, just the right amount of breathless that got them likes on their online content.

"I think you can have a night off, see what else you can hear..."

"Oooh, you spoil me Daddy, I will, I promise!"

I will... kill you the first chance I get, Val. Promise.

He is halfways back to the hotel before his mind catches up, but he doesn't let the 'dazed lovedrunk smile #4' he perfected so well for the camera, drop. Aware of the surveillance cameras watching his route home.

When the doors close behind him, Angel collapses to his knees, and then Husk is there, and Angel is sobbing.

"What did he do? Angel, are you hurt?"

"No, No I-... he made me... the things I know... he wanted to know..."

"It's alright Angel, this was inevitable. I will handle this." Alastor advises.

"Not with that injury, mister!" Mimzy interjects.

"Wait, not tonight, they'll assume I said something. They know about your... tail... and you and husk and mimzy. They asked about your deal... I'm sorry I couldn't... his eye..."

"It is genuinely alright Angel, Vox has been obsessed for decades, its no surprise he found out. Merely a nuisance that I now must kill them all rather than one at a time."

"Okay, but not tonight... when we go to end them, I want them to have no chance to stop you. Can't do that when you're injured, right?"

"Hmmm, true. Alright, we shall pencil it in... next week sometime. Let's get you settled, we have some food set aside as you never finished yours." He glanced over the other. "Or perhaps Husker can escort you to your room for a quick shower, the effect that little eye trick has makes one feel quite in need of one..."

"Oooh, Husky, change your mind about the nurse costume? I'll take a spongebath anyday for you, Sister Whiskers..."

"Keep that up and I get Al to bathe you."

Angel felt his expression deepen into Lustful Thoughts #6 and there was a record scratch. "No, I shan't be available. Injured and all that..."

Mimzy howled with laughter.

"You lot are fucking crazy... I want in." His mouth says before his brain can catch up.

"Welcome to my nightmare, legs..." Husk groans, pulling Angel up and walking them towards the elevators. "Let's get you cleaned up and fed. We need to plan for next time the Vees pull this shit... you can get around questions with careful answers, you know?"

Mimzy paused on the way back to the kitchen, checking no one is around before she sidles up to Al. "You wanna go bang in the King's room, as a big old Fuck You to the guy?"

"Hmmm, tempting, but maybe later... I feel it would have more impact with more participants. And besides, we need to feed the spider some food and the right lines to use under hypnosis... so, let us focus on that for now."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine... but can I at least pet your tail in the kitchen?"

"...I have never understood your fascination, but I see no harm in doing so away from prying eyes."

He had no way of knowing that the covert selfie she took of herself in the act, which was then sent to Husk, would be intercepted by Vox and cause a three day power outage across the Ring.

Lucifer could never prove it was Alastor's fault, but he sure acted like it was until the lights came back on.

-----------

ENDish

this took hours of my weekend for no one to read but me

such a bizarre and likely ooc concept but... why not. at least i have some creativity returning!

[hitomisuzuya]

NSFW Yandere!Fatui! Scaramouche x Fatui!fem! reader. Headcanons. Smut. Scara falling in love. Totally self indulgent. Obsessive and possessive behavior. Mind break. Choking.

a/n: Good evening, everyone. Requests should be open in about 6 days❤️ Please enjoy.

Tagging @xxventiswindblumexx @kichikichiko

Scaramouche had a lot of pride.

So when he first saw you, it shook him up. Rattled him to his very core.

The first thing he noticed about you was your height. You were shorter than him. It annoyed him.

The second was your scent. All it took was for a soft breeze to ruffle against your hair for you scent to assault his senses. You smelt so good it disgusted him, like lavender and jasmine.

The third was sound of your voice. It was like soothing honey, sweet in his ears. A pleasant sound in his ear drums. He hated that he liked it.

And then there was that thing you did that drove him instantly crazy. Whenever you thinking or trying to concentrate, you would always mess with your lower lip somehow, commonly biting it to help you think.

He hated that he noticed you always seemed to do it around him, especially when he spoke. It was like you were flustered. He didn't know when he started to enjoy making you flustered.

Your smile was what shook him up the most. It was gentle and accepting, without any pity. Scaramouche had never seen anyone smile like that. Much less at him.

He supposed his obsession started when you stood up to him for the first time.

But he couldn't be sure because now he was always looking for ways to have your attention. Having you transferred onto his squad. By now he was sure you noticed some things disappearing from your quarters. Some clothes, some books, other miscellaneous items. He did that when he felt you weren't giving him enough attention.

It would force you to seek him out and give him attention. It was a common habit he used because he wanted your attention all the time.

He hated that he always wanted you around him every second of the day.

But he didn't hold it against himself much. You were a pest, a nuisance bothering him. But he needed to see you, smell you, to find some way to brush up against you accidentally on purpose and then snap at you that you should watch where you are going because you bumped into him.

Especially to hear your voice. Which is what he enjoyed hearing the most when you stood up to him the first time.

Scaramouche had been knocking around his subordinates out of frustration. Stupid people problems, not his.

But you. You had the nerve to go around tending to their wounds. He didn't understand you at all. "Quit it, they don't deserve the treatment. Stupidity is undeserving of your disgusting consideration."

"Stop barking, Scara. You are the one saying everyone always runs their mouth around you and yet you run yours just as much like a petulant brat."

You'd called him Scara. A pet name. He hated pet names. But he would love it if you called him pet names. He hated that too.

Call him Master instead.

Bruises of possession were starting to form on your skin. Now he was taking advantage of your obvious feelings for him. He liked to use them as a weapon against you just so he could kiss you and taste you. But it never went beyond that. Scara was one to take intimacy slowly. It was a deep thing for him and he was already reeling around you.

Things have an interesting way of backfiring on Scaramouche.

The first time is when he slipped up and admitted his feelings for you indirectly in front of his subordinates. You were patching them up again.

"I thought I told you to cut that out. I am starting to think you are deaf. If you keep coddling them like that, they are going to fall in love with you like dedicated dogs, drooling all over you."

He said that like he wasn't drooling over you already. He actually wiped his mouth a little. "I don't understand you. You are disgustingly kind and considerate. You are a filthy killer for the Fatui with enough power to make you a Harbinger, but you don't seem interested. Why? You would have even more power to fling around like you do."

"I don't want to hear you running your mouth about dogs when you are the one barking again, Scara. Admit to me that you are jealous. It will make it easier and less painful to watch."

Your response gave him such a thrill. He wanted to grab you and kiss you. Fuck you into knowing your place.

"Shut your mouth, slut." He thought he saw your eyes light up in an aroused way. Oh? Really?

Scaramouche needed to mark you up a little more after that. He needed everyone to see his obsessive possession for you bleed onto your skin a little more, deeper and darker than the last.

People were already starting to talk. They were saying you were his personal fuck toy, one specially kept by the Harbinger. And in a way, they were right, you were going to be his fuck toy.

The second backfire was worse than the first.

You'd walked on him while he had a fit of sexual frustration. He'd thinking so many lewd things about you.

Scaramouche was thinking how what you would look like while he made you fall apart tongue fucking you, begging, crying, and whining for him to let you cum, riding his tongue, your thighs squeezing desperately on the either side of his head.

At that point his hand wasn't enough.

But there you were, handing yourself to him on a silver platter for him to finally take.

You were all he ever thought about.

Scaramouche knew your mind was very fragile and broken just like his. It was time to break your mind into a thousand little fragments, shattering easily underneath his feet while he fucked you.

He would remold you to better suit him.

"Strip! Get over here and help me. Hurry up, slut, I don't have any patience left!"

You did just as you were told. What a good girl he already had.

Scaramouche was harsh with his degradation.

He pinned you down on the bed, one hang squeezing your thigh tight enough to bruise while he fingered you. You could only moan and buck your hips into his fingers.

And he never shut up. He knew you enjoyed the sound of his voice. And that he knew you liked being degraded, he used both of those qualities against you purely for his own benefit. And for your pleasure too, of course.

"You were so eager to open your legs like a whore for me. I bet you would done that on the first day we met and believe me I wanted to. Don't you know that I have been obsessively stalking you for months, you stupid fucking slut?!"

You screamed and babbled incoherent sentences.

Break break break. Shatter shatter shatter. The fragments of your mind cracked easily for him.

Scaramouche was laying into you harder than he intended, fucking the frustration he felt with the fact that you'd forced him to take possession on a whim, a snap decision of passion that he couldn't control.

You were just that fucking irresistible that he couldn't fight it anymore. He was amazed that he held out as long as he did.

Scaramouche was dizzy and even more obsessed when you let him wrap his hand around your pretty throat and squeeze. You trusted him that much. Instantly. Even begging for more when he let go.

"Harder, Scara, it makes me see stars! I'm close! Please let me cum!" You pleaded.

"Call me Master, slut! And then I will give you the privilege of cumming on my cock like the slut that you are!"

With every thrust and harsh word, his grip on your body increased. He wanted to swallow you whole, his fingers shattering your mind and molding you to him as he blew the fragments into dust in the wind.

You stopped hearing yourself after you started screaming his name. You'd so tired of always thinking and overthinking. Your mind was a blissful blank quiet. You did call him Master. The more you screamed it while you orgasmed the tighter his possessive grip on you got.

Quiet quiet.

"That's right, slut. Stop thinking and serve your purpose as my cock sleeve. It's your purpose now! You learned your place quickly!"

You were all his now.

It's what you always wanted.

[the-invisibility-bloke]

001: Sebinis!

Always. <3

-

001 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it if I did: March 2023, while still on my first playthrough. My partners and I were joking about who would top, Ominis or Sebastian, ​and decided to see what AO3 had to say about it. The rest is history. :D

my thoughts: AAAAAAAAAAAAA. I mean. I met so many wonderful friends because of them. This ship will be in my heart forever. They have an incredible setup, the sweet boy trying to leave his dark family behind, and the orphan who tumbles into the dark with good intentions. They're gold standard shipping material.

What makes me happy about them: THEY'RE CUTE AS SHIT. The way Sebastian teases him,​ they way they so obviously care about each other to the point that Ominis is the only one whose opinion Sebastian actually respects. They've been best friends since childhood and that makes the break of their bond that much more traumatic. DELICIOUS.

What makes me sad about them: ​​The catacombs. :( Sebastian's general assholery and how deeply it wounds Ominis. No matter what happens post-canon, their relationship is permanently damaged. Sebastian is just too self-absorbed in the end, and that's what makes a good ship, but damn it hurts.

things done in fanfic that annoys me: Happy to share in DMs, but I'll refrain from ​answering here; I don't want to any​one to stop writing what they love.

things I look for in fanfic:​ I love the trope that their relationship starts developing before canon, because that makes it angstier when they fall apart. I also love them coming together at some point after canon, when they've drifted apart, and they have to sort of rebuild from scratch. Drarry vibes. But generally canon compliant... and little to no MC involvement, haha.

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other:​ My HC of Garreth would be perfect for Ominis, a far better partner than Sebastian, let's be honest. XD And, uh... Marvolo, I suppose, but I don't think that's a very healthy match. ;) SEBASTIAN DOESN'T DESERVE ANYONE.

My happily ever after for them:​ They recover after canon events, build a relationship together, get married, and Ominis takes Sebastian's name which is why he doesn't show up in the Gaunt family tree. :) :) :)

who is the big spoon/little spoon:​ I think they switch up, Ominis is canonically a bit taller I think? (Or is that fanon? I actually wrote him shorter so who knows.) But I do HC him as more of a bottom and thus a lil' spoon.

what is their favorite non-sexual activity:​ MISCHIEF. Hijinks with Anne. At least, before everything went to shit. Pranks and silliness and practicing spells in the Undercroft, exploring the areas of Feldcroft. Probably reading together too, Sebastian's a giant bookworm and you can see parts of the game where they're just sitting together reading, it's adorable.

[silencefromafar]

I went back to rewatch episodes 7 and 8 of TROP season 2 because I wanted to be sure I hadn't actually missed anything. And I noticed some things...

So I already shared thoughts about how it felt like there were missing pieces in the season finale and how the show suffers with the challenge of condensing events that happened in the spam of several centuries in a shorter timeline.

After rewatching the last two episodes of the season I stand by my previous assessment. And even more: they had problems condensing the plotlines of the season into 8 episodes. Thus a season that started incredibly well dialed down to a messy combination of emotionally flat conclusions.

I will try to organize my considerations in different posts, the first one being about episode 7 and the Battle of Eregion. This episode has some weird editing choices and continuity mistakes that led me to believe that either there was more to the Battle of Eregion than what made it to the final cut or there were post filming changes that led to reshoots of some scenes (or even both).

The most notable slips are related to Gil-Galad's weirdly timed appearances and his absence for the majority of the action sequences. The first time we see the elven cavalry arriving the camera focuses on Elrond leading the forces and briefly shows the High King to the side. When the cavalry charges and we get a wide shot, Gil-Galad is gone. After that very brief appearance he comes back only near the end of the episode to help Elrond and Arondir and deliver a one liner in the fight against the troll. And even then the moment he spears Damrod seems weirdly disconnected from the whole sequence as it is shot in a way that does not show Gil-Galad in the same framing as Damrod, Elrond or Arondir. When the troll is finally dead, there are a few shots were we can see Gil-Galad upon his magnificent horse delivering another one liner. With the fighting still going on around them, Gil-Galad, Elrond and Arondir look in the direction of the treeline. Cut to a shot of Adar ordering his children to march and various shots of the orcs advancing from the edge of the forest to cross the battlefield. We see by the lighting that it's still the middle of the night. Cut back to Gil-Galad on his feet and we have no horses on sight, all the orcs that were fighting the elves a few moments ago have disappeared or dropped dead and the lighting is completely different as the sun is already rising on the horizon. Oh, and the body of the troll they just killed? Nowhere to be seen.

Back to the battle, we finally have Arondir facing Adar. Now, this should have been a big moment, since they interrupted Arondir's story arc with the southlanders to have him pursuing revenge against Adar as his main arc of the season. But it's resolved in less than 30 seconds. Or in 24 seconds, to be more precise: Arondir shoots his first arrow directly at Adar around 1:05:34 and by 1:05:58 we have Adar leaving the frame while Arondir crawls on the floor with what should have been a mortal wound. When I first watched this I was genuinely scared for Arondir's life. This is the last we see of him in this episode and when the finale came out one of my concerns was knowing who would come to Arondir's rescue... No wonder I was confused when he showed up perfectly fine like he didn't had a big ass sword thrust on his belly.

Next we have this beautiful shot of Elrond looking despondent, his gaze on the battle going around and his hair mostly in place. Then it cuts to Adar's sword being sheated while he stands right in front of Elrond, who's in a slightly different position, face looking down, hair a lot more disheveled. The lighting also changes from one shot to the other: on the first it looks more natural while in the second it's weirdly artificial. It's clear that there was supposed to be a fighting scene between Adar and Elrond before the moriondor takes Nenya. What happened to that scene?

One can't help but wonder how such primary mistakes in continuity could happen in a billion dollar production like TROP. My guess is that originally there was a different version of the Battle of Eregion and what aired was a mix of that version with reshot scenes but I still can't say what was on the first version and what was a result of reshooting.

That's it for now, I might come back later with more comments on these last two episodes.

P.S.: I've seen some people theorizing that it could have been Sauron impersonating Elrond in that infamous kiss scene. And as much as I think that kiss was gratuitous, purposeless and completely out of place I don't think that is what went on. As many editing mistakes as they did the sequence of events here seems mostly ok and I can't imagine how Sauron would have been able to pull that off. But who knows? As I've said, that kiss was weird enough and might be another evidence of the mess that went on in the making of episodes 7 and 8.