#was listening to hes a cannibal and thinking about them and this appeared in my head . I dont fully know what it means .

[redtsundere-writes]

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 23: Wrapped Around My Finger

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: 5354 words.

A/N: Goddamn I have been so busy lately uwu

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

Sukuna had always been a curse shrouded in shadows. Despite his imposing height and bulk, he possessed an unmatched ability to blend into his surroundings. A skill of great importance that allowed him to silently stalk, infiltrate enemy territory undetected, and listen to forbidden secrets just a few meters from his victims. A skill that had guaranteed his survival and made him a legend, along with his ancient technique. However, lately, he was being careless.

No matter where you were, you could feel the weight of his four scarlet eyes on you. A chill ran down your spine every time you felt him nearby, like a ghost wandering around you. When you looked back at him, he would look away with feigned indifference, as if the encounter was mere chance despite living under the same roof and following a random path. If you asked him if you could help him with something, he would always reply with a dry: “Nothing for now.” What was that about then?

Sometimes, you didn't even need to feel the weight of his gaze to know he was near. Small bowls of freshly cut fruit, small flower bouquets, or a cup of steaming tea would magically appear like anonymous offerings. You knew only he could have left them, though he would never do so face to face. Sukuna had a peculiar way of showing interest, a strange mix of pride and caution, and this time, you could understand exactly why he was so stealthy. 

The letter had rattled him. His mind took him to fantastic places when he saw you and thought of the words you had written for him. He was fascinated by the adrenaline that ran through his body when he now knew what you were hiding under that innocent gaze. His daisy wanted him as much as he wanted you, and there was nothing that satisfied him more than that. He wanted to hear you recite that letter so that the words would come to life and fulfill his wishes, but the right moment was just around the corner.

It was finally coronation day. The day Sukuna would become king of the Jogo kingdom and name the land after him. Servants ran around to get the castle ready to welcome all the curses in a grand celebration. Cooks prepared absurd amounts of food, servants placed golden decorations along the walls, and guards calmed the inhabitants so they wouldn't get excited about entering early.

You whined in pain and held onto Mrs. Inoue's shoulders to tolerate it. The 8-armed thin seamstress tightened the corset tightly as if she were stuffing a pig into a tube. The golden corset of the dress was too tight around your stomach and bust. Mrs. Inoue held your hips to hold you in place so you would stay still. This was the first time this happened, and the embarrassment was new. It was a shame, since the dress was beautiful. It had several layers of light, translucent fabrics in shades of cream. The top of the corset had ruffles that highlighted the chest, and the long skirt was as light as a feather. The curse growled profanities until the corset finally closed.

“God, I feel like I’m going to throw up,” you grumbled unwillingly as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Maybe that way you’ll fit into the dress,” the seamstress groaned.

Hearing that, your hands instinctively held your stomach. You didn’t think about your weight constantly, but that comment still made you feel bad. Though, that worry disappeared as you felt Sukuna’s presence upon arriving at your room.

“How’s everything going here?” Sukuna examined you as usual.

Mrs. Inoue and you gasped in unison at the sight of him. His outfit was simply perfect, so much so that it left you speechless. This time, he wasn’t wearing his usual robes that hid his muscles. Instead, he wore a short, bright red jacket, with intricate gold embroidery on the sleeves that caught the light hypnotically. Under the jacket, a tight black top revealed the large mouth on his abdomen. A gold medallion hung over his chest, imposing itself with every movement.

He wore loose black pants decorated with red geometric patterns and leather gloves that left his fingers exposed, adding a touch of toughness. Finishing off the outfit were black shoes that clicked with every step. His hair was perfectly combed back, though some unruly strands fell over his forehead, his eyes were lined, and his eyelashes curled, giving him a magnetic and careless look at the same time. He looked so good that your mouth dropped to the floor.

“Wow, he looks like a prince!” Mrs. Inoue exclaimed.

She smiled at him, thinking he would thank her for the compliment, but instead, Sukuna looked at her with pure hatred. How dare a vile mortal demean him in such a way? He was a king and always would be. He was about to raise his fingers to slit his throat, but you quickly entered the conversation.

“She means he looks really handsome!” You defended her, getting in between them to protect her with your body.

“Ah…” Sukuna quickly calmed down at the clarification. “Thank you.”

Mrs. Inoue and you sighed in relief. You asked the lady to leave the room, to which she quickly obeyed. “I was almost feeling like I was leaving,” she thought, holding her neck as she retreated to prepare for the coronation. As soon as she closed the door, you turned your gaze to him. Even though you had already seen him, your gaze scanned him again.

“And what do you think?” Sukuna asked you, adjusting his sleeves.

It was a difficult thing to answer. Sukuna as a king was intimidating, fierce, and shocking. A curse that imparts terror just by being in the room. But… There was something about him that you liked physically. His well-combed hair, his sharp gaze, and his well-defined abs. After living a year of curses, Sukuna was still the best looking.

“He looks perfect,” you replied with a smile.

Sukuna scanned your dress. The ruffles highlighted your cleavage, the corset narrowed your waist, and the skirt complemented your beautiful legs. He spun you around a couple of times like a lion about to bite. It was just what he had imagined for his coronation. A king couldn't be crowned without having a beautiful woman at his side.

“You look perfect too,” Sukuna answered bluntly.

Their eyes met, and the world seemed to stop at that moment. He took your hand with unexpected gentleness and placed a slow kiss on your knuckles. Heat rose to your cheeks immediately. You felt your heart racing, as if it wanted to escape from your chest, but this time you weren't going to let it dominate you. Now that you knew you were just a piece in his game, you promised yourself not to fall for his tricks. You waited a second, letting him hold your hand, and then, with a slight smile, you pulled it away to smooth out the dress with a certain indifference.

“Good job,” Sukuna congratulated the curse seamstress. “I want to see how the dress will look for the Zen'in ball.”

“It looks amazing, although…” The curse approached Sukuna to whisper something in his ear. “… it would look better on someone who fits into the dress.” ​​

A tic attacked his left eye upon hearing that. He could accept that the curses killed, tortured or ate humans, but he would never accept that they made fun of their physique. Sukuna hid his lower arms behind his back. A reflex from his past that he hated more than anything.

“Y/n,” He called you. You looked up to meet his gaze through the mirror. “Close your eyes,” he ordered.

You looked at him through the mirror. Once upon a time you would have obeyed him without hesitation, but this time you hesitated. The uncertainty of not knowing what he was planning ate away at you inside, paralyzing you. After a few seconds of hesitation, you finally obeyed. A thin, precise cut resonated in the room, piercing the silence like a fatal warning. It was the unmistakable sound of death, an echo you would have recognized anywhere.

“You can open them now,” Sukuna whispered in your ear.

Your eyes snapped open as you felt his warm breath brush your ear. His firm hand descended to your shoulder, and, without giving you time to react, he pulled you towards him, turning you precisely on your heels. Before you could process it, he was leading you out of the room and into the hallway, his presence enveloping you like an inescapable shadow.

“What happened?” You stammered in confusion, looking back. A large pool of blood marred the beautiful ivory carpet.

“I got rid of a pest,” he said with a macabre smile. You had no choice but to follow him.

The murmur of the crowd increased with each passing second. The coronation was about to begin. Sitting next to Mrs. Inoue, you watched as Kenjaku took care of adjusting the last details of Sukuna’s outfit, making sure every fold was in place. From your seat, you looked at his broad back, his imposing figure ready to step out onto the balcony. Excitement vibrated in the air like an invisible current, but the king, unfazed, did not show a trace of nervousness.

“Ready, my king?” Kenjaku asked, reaching for the door handle to the balcony.

“I was born ready.”

Kenjaku opened the doors to the balcony, and the shout of curses rose in unison, echoing like a wild roar as Sukuna raised his arms, rejoicing in the frenzy of his followers. The curses jumped in excitement, elated at the sight of their new king. They cared little about King Jogo’s death; all that mattered was that an even more powerful curse would take the throne, protecting them and guaranteeing their right to hunt humans without interruption. For curses, there were no bloodlines, wealth, or territories. They only submitted to the law of the strongest.

“Curses, with you, King Sukuna Ryomen!” Kenjaku announced loudly for all to hear.

You looked out over the balcony and looked at the entire kingdom gathered in the courtyard of the castle. It was a festival of monstrosities, an ocean of creatures screaming and singing in wild celebration. The variety of their forms was overwhelming: huge and tiny, with twisted horns, tails, sharp teeth, and bodies that barely seemed possible. Some were almost human in appearance; others were nightmarish distortions, a veritable museum of oddities. Lady Inoue, at your side, looked away in fear, unable to bear the sight of that disturbing crowd.

“It has been six months since I defeated King Jogo. It has been six months since I conquered this beautiful land to make it my own and name it after myself…” Sukuna began his speech.

Under his command, the hubbub immediately died down. The first words of the leader of this new era were to be recorded in history, a moment that everyone there would remember until the end of their days. The curses present felt themselves to be witnesses of something momentous, an event that they would tell future generations with pride: “I was there.” Sukuna proclaimed his absolute power and claimed that he would drive the petty sorcerers from his sacred lands. He urged them to follow only his commands, promising that under his leadership they would prosper far more than they ever did under King Jogo.

“From now on, I will be your king and your lord! The only one you must obey for the rest of my life and the next to come!” Sukuna announced proudly.

Kenjaku approached him with a large box covered in a velvety red cloth, lifting it with ceremonious slowness. With a calculated gesture, he removed the cloth, revealing the magnificent crown that once belonged to King Jogo. It was a work of art made of pure gold, with sparkling rubies embedded around the entire circumference. Its design evoked flames, with spikes rising like tongues of fire frozen in metal. In the sunlight, each ruby ​​sparkled, and the gold seemed to burn with a life of its own. It was an awe-inspiring sight, a jewel fit for a king.

Sukuna took the crown in both hands, raising it so that the ecstatic crowd could admire it. The sun sparkled from every facet, casting golden and scarlet reflections on the faces of those watching from below. You had never seen anything so imposing or beautiful in your life, and judging by the looks of the crowd, neither had they.

With confident movements, Sukuna placed the crown upon his head. In that instant, the crowd erupted in a deafening roar. Howls, barbaric cries, and indescribable sounds filled the air, a roar of wild euphoria that reverberated off the castle walls. Sukuna smiled from cheek to cheek, pleased. This was his moment; nothing could match the intoxicating feeling of power, of being the focus of all devotion.

And that, he thought, was the reason he always returned to this land he so despised: for the unmatched adrenaline of seeing an entire nation kneel before him, of feeling his strength and will subdue the masses. But this was only the beginning. When he finally extended his rule over the sorcerer kingdoms, when he crushed each of his enemies beneath his feet, the glory would be indescribable. A new era of obedience and terror was coming, and he, the one true king, would be in charge.

“My first order as king, I want to make it very special.” Sukuna looked at you with a smile as resplendent as his crown. “Y/n…”.

You looked at his hand extended towards you, stunned, as if it were a dream. Now all that deafening attention was focused on you. Your heart was pounding, and you felt the heat and nerves mix in a whirlwind that made it impossible for you to distinguish one from the other. With a slight tremor, you reached out your hand, and he took it with a firmness that anchored you to reality. At his side, on that balcony that seemed to rise like a pedestal, you understood the weight of the position you were in. Sukuna, the indomitable king, had chosen you for this moment.

“Remember this face because in less than a month you will be my equal,” Sukuna exclaimed. “My first order as the king of the kingdom of New Sukuna is…”

He extended his hand to Kenjaku, who handed him a small box wrapped in dark suede, the soft material contrasting with the hardness of the moment. It was almost unreal, but it was finally happening: the day you had waited for a long and torturous month, a time filled with doubt and anticipation.

Sukuna, the imposing king, knelt in front of you. The image was so powerful that you could barely breathe. Slowly, he opened the box, and inside it shone a ring that seemed to absorb and reflect all the light of day. The gold of the ring glowed as if it were alive, and in its center, a large oval-cut ruby ​​sparkled with a deep red, as if it carried fire itself within it. Around the ruby, small flowers of finely cut diamonds sparkle, adorning it delicately. The order you had so long awaited finally happened:

“Marry me.”

There it was. Finally, he had spoken the words you had so longed to hear. But something was different, and it didn't feel the same as that first time. That afternoon in front of the piano had been one of the most beautiful moments of your life. The soft melody echoed in the room as the sun cast its last rays through the large window, bathing everything in a soft gloom just before the candles were lit. You remembered it clearly: his hands on the piano, yours brushing against his with every movement, as if that closeness was enough to break any barrier between you. There was an indescribable peace at that moment, a calm so deep that it made you forget, even for a moment, that you were next to a tyrant who had ordered you to kill one of your own.

Sukuna was a vile and ruthless tyrant, but even so, he managed to make you feel in a way that no one else could. You feared that intensity, not so much for what he could do to you, but for what you would be capable of doing for him. The first order had been clear: a test of loyalty. What else did he have planned for you in the future? Only he would know, and you had to be prepared for any dangerous storm.

“Yes.”

The crowd erupted in jubilation at his words. With a bold gesture, Sukuna lifted you up and placed you over his shoulder, displaying you with unmistakable pride, as if you were a trophy worthy of his power. You could feel the strength in his grip, his confidence enveloping you as he lifted you up for all to see. You smiled nervously, trying to maintain your composure as you waved like a shy princess. The crowd responded with cheers and shouts, a sea of ​​faces lit up with joy and devotion, while you, from on high, tried to adjust to this new role you had assigned yourself.

“Let us celebrate this new era until dawn!” Sukuna announced the beginning of the party.

The band of curses played with unbridled enthusiasm, their trumpets, tambourines and bongos resonating in a chaotic but festive rhythm. It was a grotesque carnival, full of creatures, dancing without rest, devouring enormous quantities of food and drinking as if dawn would never come. The echo of unknown songs bounced between the walls of the empty corridors, mixing with the guttural laughter and the roar of celebration. In the midst of that chaos, Sukuna's firm steps marked a different beat, resonating like a war drum. In the middle of the party, he had ordered you to follow him. He didn't give you time to obey; in the blink of an eye, he took your hand determinedly and led you away from the bustle, towards a silent room.

The meeting room was plunged into darkness. The armchairs, upholstered in fresh and austere fabrics, seemed to await long conversations that never happened. The stone table, imposing, cold and covered in a thin layer of dust, as if it had been forgotten. The curtains, thick and heavy, remained closed, enveloping the room in an air of almost suffocating privacy. A faint smell of storage floated in the air, testimony to the disuse of the place. The candles, extinguished, let the scarce light that filtered through the windows guide their movements.

Sukuna led you to an armchair and, with a gesture that seemed more like an order than an invitation, indicated that you should take a seat. You obeyed silently, placing your hands on your lap, where the ring that adorned your finger captured your attention for an instant. It was a bright and beautiful symbol, but also a reminder of the weight of the promise you had made to the king. Sukuna removed the heavy gold crown and placed it aside, needing a moment to rest from the burden of royalty. His face, though relaxed, did not lose its characteristic severity, and his gaze studied you in the dim light as if he were evaluating something more than just your presence.

“Happy?” Sukuna gently took your hand to kiss the ring.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” You smiled.

“I was saving it to surprise you at the Zen’in ball, but I couldn’t wait any longer to call you mine.” Sukuna purred against your ear.

Sukuna gently pulled you closer, placing small, fleeting kisses on your cheeks, while his chest rested against your shoulder in a gesture that seemed both possessive and warm. The touch of his lips on your skin was enough to make you blush, but this time you were not going to let yourself be dominated by his calculated movements. Not anymore. You wouldn't let him play the same trick on you twice in a row.

"I'll be glad to, my king," you whispered.

With a determination that came from deep within you, you abruptly turned your face and captured his lips with yours. Your hands, firm but trembling, tangled in his hair, pulling him towards you. Sukuna let out a soft moan of surprise, the sound vibrating between the two of you like a low note. But far from stopping, his reaction was different: he adored your bravery, that spark that ignited something wild inside him. Without hesitation, he lifted you up and placed you on his lap, his large hands running over your body with a mixture of delicacy and greed, as if he were trying to memorize every curve, every detail that made you unique. His golden accessories jingled with every movement, creating a hypnotic contrast with the intensity of the moment.

One of his hands slowly ascended your back, brushing each vertebra, until it rested on the back of your neck. With a slight tug, he pulled you towards him, deepening the kiss with an intensity that left you breathless. His other hand found your waist, gripping you with the same strength he had that confusing night, the night you understood nothing and he knew even less. Now, you were in the same page. His lips on yours spoke of understanding, of desire, of something deeper that neither of you dared name out loud.

His dark heart, full of ambition and shadows, beat hard against your chest, ecstatic to finally have you as he had fantasized so many nights. It wasn't just an act of passion; for him, it was a conquest, an achievement as addictive as any victory on the battlefield. The heat of his body seemed to envelop yours, as if the two of you could merge into one, as if the outside world ceased to exist in that instant.

When he finally pulled away, he did so slowly, as if he feared breaking something sacred between the two of you. His lips parted just enough to allow her to take a breath, while his gaze, dark and intense, remained fixed on yours. He still held your face, and at that moment, there was no trace of doubt: both of you were caught in a game that you could no longer, nor would you, stop.

“You have no idea what your letter has awakened in me.” Sukuna smiled, thinking you would kiss him out of excitement, but it disappeared when he saw your frown.

“What letter?” You asked innocently, tilting your head in curiosity.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of. You know what I’m talking about.” Sukuna tried to pull you towards him to kiss you softly, but you moved away to continue the conversation.

“What are you talking about?” You asked again. Sukuna’s frustration was starting to show.

“The love letter, the one you left under my pillow,” he explained, losing his patience over a stupid joke.

But the serenity on your face made it clear to him that you weren’t joking. Your eyes flickered with genuine confusion, and your lips remained still, not drawing the slightest curve that could be interpreted as mockery. Every line of your expression conveyed sincerity, and it disconcerted him more than he cared to admit. Sukuna sighed in exasperation and reluctantly pulled you off his lap.

“I really don’t understand what you’re talking about,” you commented as the king paced back and forth across the room, wondering how he could get the truth out of you.

“Stop lying!” he exclaimed, annoyed. “You wrote this!” Sukuna pulled the heart-shaped letter out of his pocket to toss it to you. “Did he have it with him all this time?” you thought in amazement.

The delicate piece of paper, which was supposed to contain your most sincere feelings, gently landed on your lap like a leaf carried by the wind. You opened the letter instantly, letting your eyes scan each carefully written line. As you moved forward, the poetic and profound words were laying bare emotions that seemed not to be yours, but were signed with your name. Each sentence surprised you more than the last; the weight of its intensity hit you like an unexpected revelation. This was the first time you had read that letter.

“I wish I could write poetry as beautiful as this,” you commented as if you were talking about another novel in the library.

“You said you had a surprise, and boy was I surprised!” He exclaimed, pointing with his finger of anger, but at your silence, he exploded. “Just admit that it is your letter!”

“So many essays and reports that I have given you, and yet you still don't know how to recognize my handwriting?” You asked with some disappointment.

“What?!” Sukuna snatched the letter from you to examine it again.

He examined every stroke, every curve of the letters, every carefully formed word in each sentence. And there was the truth. Your handwriting, now more elegant and refined thanks to the calligraphy lessons Kenjaku had given you at the beginning of your classes, was unmistakable. The writing on the letter, however, was a mess. Messy, impulsive, lacking the discipline that marked your style.

How had he not seen it before? How had he been so blind, so caught up in his own fantasy, that he did not perceive something so elementary? Reality hit him with the force of a sledgehammer, as if the entire sky had collapsed on his head, crushing him under the weight of his own blindness. His pride, as imposing as his conquests, now seemed to break into a thousand pieces in the face of such a simple and devastating truth.

“Also, how could I have made you two letters with a single sheet of paper?” You asked, confused.

The king’s scarlet eyes widened as he noticed you pulling another letter from your skirt pocket. For an instant, disbelief marked his features. Sukuna took the letter with firm hands, although surprise was evident in his grip. It was a letter to congratulate him on his coronation and the renaming of his new land: New Sukuna Kingdom. The words were proud and had no hint of romance.

This letter did not have the ornate frame like the one that decorated the love letter; it was simple, but it's handwriting, delicate and neat, was unmistakable: yours. As he inspected both letters, comparing them, his eyes darted between the stylized strokes of the new letter and the messy handwriting of the first. The difference was irrefutable. “How stupid I am!”

“So… Who is this letter from?” Sukuna looked at the love letter with some disappointment.

“Maybe some lover.” You crossed your arms in annoyance.

“Lover?! What are you talking about?!” Sukuna roared at such an accusation.

“No idea, but this…” You pointed at your engagement ring. “… It's still mine” You threatened in case I wanted to leave you for the author of the letter.

Sukuna clenched his fists, loaded with exasperation and something deeper: a pang of humiliation that pierced him like a dagger. Never, in his entire existence, had he sunk so low as at this moment, when for a fleeting and miserable second he allowed himself to believe that his fantasies could materialize. The mere idea of ​​having nurtured that illusion infuriated him as much as it embarrassed him. He, the great king, the imposing tyrant, reduced to a naive dreamer by a simple game of letters.

“If you'll excuse me, I'll return to the party. Mahito promised to teach me how to dance,” you bowed and left the room full of confusion as quickly as possible, hiding a victorious little smile.

Sukuna collapsed into the chair, as if the weight of his own mind was crushing him. He put his hands to his head, his fingers pressing against his temples, in a vain attempt to sort out the chaos that consumed him. That you were not the author of the letter, that he had not been able to notice that the handwriting was not yours, and worst of all, that you faced his accusation with such devastating coldness, as if it had not affected you in the slightest. Each thought was a dagger that sank deeper into his chest, making the emptiness inside him feel like an infinite abyss.

The pain manifested itself in a way that he himself did not understand. A couple of treacherous tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, tracing unknown paths on a face accustomed to expressing anger, arrogance or mockery, but never vulnerability. Sukuna stood still, paralyzed by the disconcerting revelation: this was the first time he had cried in a long time.

But why? Was it helplessness at the broken illusion? Frustration with himself for having fallen for something so ridiculous? Rejection for what that brief conversation had made clear to him? You didn't have the same feelings for him. He knew that now. But then, why did you kiss him back? His mind returned again and again to that moment, searching for answers in the movements of your lips, in the way you looked at him. There was something there, something he couldn't figure out. He was lost, confused, and alone.

“Damn it!” Sukuna screamed, throwing the crown across the room, breaking a lamp into a thousand pieces, imitating his sad heart.

The party consumed you completely. You danced barefoot alongside Mahito, Dagon, Hanami, and the rest of the curses in a large circle on the parade ground. They jumped to the rhythm of the band's chase while a curse sang a ballad dedicated to the king. You smiled as Mahito guided you through the movements. Two steps to the left, one turn, then two steps to the right and repeat until exhaustion.

“Let the happy queen dance, let her dance!” The troubadour announced to the same rhythm of the catchy song.

“Let her come to the center, let her come!” Mahito pushed you from behind so you could enter the large circle.

The curses applauded euphorically as soon as you entered the improvised dance floor. Mahito and Hanami encouraged you from their places to bring out your best moves. With a blush rising to your cheeks, you decided to listen to the rhythm. As soon as you began to jump and spin with your hands up, the curses howled in approval. You laughed as the evening wind and the grass tickled your heels.

Everything was happiness until you saw the king on the balcony. He was looking at you with that same face you had seen in the mirror a couple of nights ago. That disappointed, humiliated and frustrated face of not getting what he wanted. You continued dancing so he could see you in all your splendor, until the song ended on a long note. You blew him a kiss in the air as soon as the song faded into the silence of the celebration. Sukuna's face was surprised by that action. It reminded him of that time when you shot his cheek, only this time you shot his heart again. He clenched the balcony railing in frustration that he could alter his emotions with so little.

The next song started, and the curses joined you to dance chaotically around you. You caught your breath after your big solo. Mahito danced with Hanami and Dagon. Kenjaku drank a glass of wine with Mrs. Inoue. Sukuna had finally expanded his kingdom. And you had taken your little revenge, but this was only the beginning of a new stage. You didn't know what the future held for you, but you were sure that you would emerge victorious, as you had Sukuna in the palm of your hand.

“Thank you, Yorozu, for teaching me your disgusting tactics,” You smiled at the ground because you knew that bitch would be wallowing in hell.

Masterlist.

taglist:

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[sw33t-oubliette]

mindsight cannibalism metaphor . Hit post

[flufffilleddonut]

Emporium’s Delight

Summary - Alastor pays his dear friend Rosie a visit, but something appears to be off with the cannibalistic overlord. Luckily, Alastor knows how to make her feel better.

Word Count - 650

-

Alastor was strolling through Cannibal Town on his way to visit Rosie. It had been a while since the two spent some quality time together and Alastor wanted to catch up. As he opened the door to Rosie’s Emporium and stepped inside, he noticed that the place was emptier than usual, with only a handful of cannibals milling about.

Rosie was situated behind her counter when she noticed her friend’s presence.

“Alastor!” Rosie exclaimed, as Alastor made his way over to the counter.

“Hello, Rosie!” Alastor greeted. Despite the smile on her face, Alastor could tell that something was up with Rosie. “Is everything alright?” He asked.

Rosie's smile faltered, and she gestured to the curtains leading to the room off the side of her emporium. Alastor followed her inside.

“Usually, my emporium is full of cannibals wanting my assistance. Lately, however, my number of clients has been decreasing.” Rosie explained. “Nothing has changed, so I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’m the problem. Perhaps I’ve… lost my touch.”

Alastor listened carefully, taking in each of Rosie’s words before speaking. 

“My dear, I can assure you that no such loss has occurred. You are your usual charming, darling, eloquent self. Anyone who thinks otherwise has clearly been misinformed.”

“Oh Alastor, you always know what to say.” Rosie said, a slight smile appearing on her face. “Maybe I was being a bit too harsh on myself. Still, the decline in business is just a tad bit disheartening.”

Alastor watched his friend, her usual, composed manner replaced with one of sorrow. He was thinking of ways to further comfort her when an idea suddenly struck him.

Rosie felt her wrists being gently grasped as her back was pulled up against Alastor's chest. Her wrists were then transferred into just one of Alastor’s hands.

“Alastor? What are- eEK!”

Rosie let out a squeal as Alastor’s free hand began spidering over her stomach.

“Whahat are you dohohoing?” She giggled out.

“You are upset, my dear. I cannot have that. This is my solution to that problem.”

“Unhahand me at ohonce you- AHA!”

Rosie was cut off by Alastor beginning to playfully nibble at her stomach, his free hand helping to steady her.

“NOHOHO, AHAHAL!” Rosie laughed.

“For someone who consumes other demons on a regular basis, you sure can’t seem to handle what you dish out.” Alastor teased between nibbles.

“QUIHIHIT IHIHIHIT!” Rosie managed to say, flushing.

“But you’re awfully tasty~” Alastor purred.

A black tendril appeared and took hold of Rosie’s wrists, granting Alastor use of both of his hands. He began to skitter them up and down Rosie’s sides as he continued to nibble.

“PLEHEHE- AHAHAHA!” Rosie’s attempt at speaking was shut down by her boisterous laughter.

Alastor continued for a few minutes before stopping the nibbling and slowing down his hands. He gave Rosie’s hips a sharp squeeze, earning one final squeal from her before releasing her wrists.

Rosie nearly lost her balance, placing an arm around Alastor’s shoulders to study herself.

As she was regaining her breath, Alastor spoke.

“Are you feeling better, my dear?”

Rosie looked up at Alastor, spying his mischievous grin and not being able to stop herself from smiling as she spoke.

“You are a madman, Alastor. But yes, I am. Thank you.”

“Lovely!” Alastor exclaimed. “Why don’t we head back into the store? Can’t keep your dear clients waiting!”

As the two overlords made their way out of the room, Rosie felt glad that Alastor had come to visit. While he may be unpredictable and downright mad at times, she knew that he cared for her, and could always be trusted to cheer her up.

But she didn’t plan on letting his little stunt slide.

-

[radioisntdead]

(To maybe save our hearts from the angst, how about a cuter idea? could be any gender really and be seen as platonic or not just very vague fluffy fun)

A reader who is similar age to Susan and is the opposite type of old person, a gentle Grandparent who has old person candies at all times. Most importantly however is the only one who can calm Susan's feral chihuahua energy, only when they need to of course.

They play cribbage on weekends, and definitely both chat about the youngins- maybe playfully feud on which is better Knit or Crochet

Good evening my dear! This is a little shorter then I wanted but I did write it in a hair salon, where at the time of posting I'm still in.

Bitter and sweet

Warnings!!!

Cannibalism, Reader is GN but gives off old lady grandma vibes, this is written in little drabbles mainly because I wrote them in an hair salon

Susan had a neighbor, she lived to the left of her house, while Susan's house was more stale and strict appearing her neighbor's was more soft colors, with gnomes outside and a lovely garden filled with all types of hell's flora,

You'd think the two would be at odds but they got along well, going out for tea each day, on weekends they'd go to bingo or play a game of cribbage, although they did get into tiffs about what was better between crochet and knitting, like how crochet is easier for some to pick up with the sole hook, or how knitting uses less yarn then crochet, They were dear friends, and this is some tidbits with them.

You and Susan had opposing aesthetics but that didn't stop the two of you from matching outfits in some way or another, she wore her usual pinkish dress? You were two feet away from her in more brighter attire.

"Kids these days are getting more and more foolish each day, fucking crying in the middle of the streets!"

Susan said, sat on a bench looking across the street at some poor cannibal gal sobbing as her dearest assumingly ended things

When you didn't respond she looked over at you only to see that you were gone,

"Where the hell- [Name]!"

You had dashed over to the gal, swatting at her former lover with your handfan, scolding him for breaking things off in the middle of the streets inside of somewhere private or inside a restaurant as the girl sobbed into your arms,

"Shh, it's alright you deserve better, someone with manners!"

You said patting her back, glaring at the unmannered former lover while Susan groaned from her seat, you just had to butt into other people's business didn't you!

Like she didn't do the same at times.

......

"You uncultured, red-40 looking, bad dental hygiene, modern technology radio man!"

Susan raised her cane to the Radio Deer man, you had just entered Rosie's Emporium for a snack,

"Susan! No! That is terribly rude!"

You shouted dashing over quickly before Susan could do anything, pushing down her cane, while apologizing,

"My apologies! I'll escort her out, here buy yourself something tasty"

You said taking the radio demons hand and placing some money and a few pieces of candy into it before linking an arm with Susan and taking her outside while scolding her as she grumbled, leaving the Radio demon lowkey stunned and missing his mother.

You were how he imagined she would've been if she lived to be elderly.

.....

"For fuck's sake! Why are you in my house?"

Susan shouted as she walked into her kitchen only to see you adorned in an old lady apron chopping away at some vegetables while some type of meat simmered on the stove,

"Making us lunch obviously! I have news about that lovely gal we met on the street a few months ago! She's going steady with my nephew, the one with the good job not the one that's married, and I must tell you what her scandalous ex lover had to say-"

You rambled on, mixing up slang from different decades Susan could care less about the gal who was sobbing on the streets but you seemed to hellbent on telling her about the 'tea' as you called it.

.....

"Susie, let's listen to what the princess has to say before booing her off the stage, this is why she called you an old bitch''

You said linking an arm with Susan before shouting over at Charlie as Rosie pulled her aside,

"My apologies!"

You chased down Charlie at a later date to give her some candies for her troubles with Susan,

You paid visits to the hotel after that, bringing treats for the residents.

....

"Knitting is superior, it uses less yarn then your hook, knitting takes far more skill and that little crochet thing seems easier.''

Susan said knitting a scarf as you sat across from her, crocheting a net.

"Susie, you are my dearest friend and I love you, But I can and will surplex you into a wall if you say that again."

Hearing that while you wore the sweetest smile would strike fear into the average sinner.

......

"Are we thinking barbecue? Grilled? Perhaps baked? Oo I recently picked up some new seasonings we could try!"

You shouted over to Susan as you threw a net at an exorcist pulling them down and stabbing them with an angelic weapon before discarding them to the side to harvest their wings later,

"I don't give a donkeys ass as long as they taste good!"

.....

"Susie?"

"Hm?"

"I'm dying again."

"Don't be dramatic!''

She smacked you gently on the head with her cane as you broke out in laughter, angel wing in your hand and gold around your mouth.

Good evening folks! I am actively dangling Susan around like a keychain, I should invest in a Susan keychain, are Susan keychains a thing???

[nai-nyeartwork]

The AU you have where Vox is the vintage one and Alastor the modern one has been living in my head rent free. I can’t stop thinking about Vox being all bouncy and cartoony (definitely like you said, Roger Rabbit) and having very cartoon-esque physics and power base. Or Alastor still being radio but very much modern and staying ahead of the game. If you are willing and have any time to indulge me, I would love love love to hear more about your AU!!!

Hey! I'm happy you like this AU. I wish I had more time to explore or write a proper story for it since I have too many ideas for it. For this AU, Vox can upgrade himself to how he normally appears in the show but he honestly prefers staying like a cartoon demon since he thinks he is more powerful in that form. Like breaking the 4th wall and using cartoon logic to mess up hell's landscape/ other demons. When he does switch TV heads, because his retro TV got busted or needs to try a different attack, his powers will changed based on the type of media or how advanced the technology is. I keep thinking he secretly doesn't want Alastor to see him differently than his normal retro look since Vox knows how the Radio demon feels about technology. Since it sort of like a swap AU, Vox has two thralls, Valentino and Velvette instead of forming an alliance with them. He tricked Val into signing a contract with him when the moth demon was struggling with his porn studio or had problems with the shark mafia. While Velvette tried to confront Alastor and Vox to be the new overlord media but lost against Vox. He kept her around since she seemed useful and would call on her more than Val when it came to promoting his or Alastor's broadcasts. Vox still lets his thralls try to make their own business but constantly demands their assistance for random dangerous schemes. If the Vees oppose or try to avoid Vox, then he will control them like puppets with his inky cable wires. The Vees are up to date with hells society even using advanced technology thanks to Alastor, but because they are under contract their appearance remains the way they arrived to hell? Or like vintage animation style? Like Val’s appearance has 70s archie animation/comic style while Velvet's is more 80s lolita anime (kinda like Perfect Blue).  Meanwhile, Alastor still befriends Rosie who also has to catch up with the time. He often promotes her business since Rosie's cannibal town has become more like a meat/food factory. Rosie often repurposes any meat, scales, teeth, and angel feathers/blood to sell at her cannibal markets.

Husker stays as an overlord but owes a favor to the Media Overlords, and often plays host to them whenever they visit his casino. I was gonna make Niffty an overlord too but I haven't decided what type she would be or just be Alastor's assistant.

I kind of want Vox to help the Hazbin Hotel and Charlie (if I don't change her and the other hazbin residents roles too much). He wants to help the hotel because Vox's end game would be controlling them. Alastor only offers to help the hotel when Vox asks him to otherwise he doesn't bother to interact with the other residents or with Charlie since he has a podcast to run.

As for Vox and Alastor's relationship, they can be very professional in front of strangers/public while with associates/friends they get a little affectionate. They are on guard constantly and only trust each other since they are media demons. In private, they are very vulnerable and give each other a lot of aftercare. Or try to have a few mental breaks from upholding an image to the public. Like Vox has a whole-ass aftercare routine when Alastor is stressed and doesn't want to listen to demons due to his radio abilities. He even mutes himself and plays silent films while Alastor hides under a blanket with noise-cancelling headphones on. And when Vox destroys or needs to repair his TV head, Alastor always makes sure to have spare parts and tools on hand to assist him. He is used to repairing Vox and acting like a doctor for him.

They have been together for so long in hell, they lose their shit if the other overlord gets hurt or someone tries to take them away since in their eyes no one else compares.

And that's all I have folks!

[caffeineaddictwriter]

Jealousy doesn’t suit you doctor lecter

Warnings: mentions of cannibalism, murder, jealousy, reader is a cannibal!

Hannibal was hosting one of his famous dinner parties. Different conversations scattered the dinner table but Hannibal listened to none but the one that his wife was having. You sat beside him expecting a good friend of yours that was here would sit beside you but instead a young man had decided to sit himself beside you. You didn’t plan on making much conversation with him expecting yourself to talk to your husband through dinner but he had different plans. It started of simple until it got more personal. Hannibal took note of every. Single. Thing. He said to you. Every compliment the man made about HIS wife. Everyone else was to focused on there own conversations to notice Hannibal’s death glare to the young man or how his wife who was turned away from him had an annoyed look.

“Darling” Hannibal whispers smiling as you whip round in your chair smiling away at him. The young lad was now the one to stare daggers at Hannibal as you begun talking about how good his food was. Dinner flys by for Hannibal now that he has your full attention, soon he’s cleaning dishes as you wish the final guests good buy.

“Goodnight gorgeous, I hope we can meet again” oh lovely you think to yourself as the young man from earlier appears beside you once again. “Mhm I’m sure we will at another one of my husbands dinners” you say putting emphasis on husband and saying it a bit louder for Hannibal to hear. “Oh cmon gorgeous he’s old all he has to offer is his money” he says coming closer to you “thank you but I love my husband very much now please back off” you demand pushing him slightly only for him to be grabbed by the throat getting pulled back. Hannibal holds his hand to the man’s mouth ensuring to sound can be made as he stabs him in the stomach. Blood drains out the man as his eyes open and close as he loses consciousness.

“What a mess” you mumble as blood spills onto the floor “I just cleaned them this morning” you whine “sorry darling, jealousy took over and got the better of me” he apologises pulling the now lifeless body through into the kitchen. You follow behind shaking your head grabbing his butcher knife. “Don’t make anymore mess darling, and he better taste nice” your comment makes Hannibal laugh giving you a quick kiss on the forehead “I think we’ll eat his heart first” he says smiling at you. “jealousy does not suit you doctor lecter” you laugh softly heading to the storage closet to get the mop.

[r0tt0]

Could you do some Eyeless Jack or Masky/Tim head cannons? Thank you :)

Omgg hello anon!! I can do both!! I’ll do Ej first:D

Sorry this is kinda late!! Tysm for requesting:))!!!!

Disclaimer: These are my personal head cannons

CW: Gore, Cannibalism, Mentions of a Cult, Sharp Weapons/Surgical Tools, depression, blood, and unaliving and death

Jack Nyras/Eyeless Jack

Eyeless Jack’s full name is Jack Nyras

He was 5’11 before the possession but after it he’s now 6’2!

A great listener!

He smells like a mixture of blood and linen

He LOVED horror games, more in specifically survival and puzzle horror games

His favorite game was Silent hill!

In college he didn’t go to parties at all, he didn’t want to attend any college parties because he thought they were dumb. He’d just spend his time playing a game or studying

He has the most neatest and nicest hand writing but in a rush he has “doctors handwriting”. He also dots his i’s last

He now has to be able to read a person down in order to talk to them or “befriend” them.

Has a hard time trusting others. He gets along well with Toby, Ben, Brian, Nina, Tim and Liu.

Ofc him and Ben get along bc of their interest/love for video games

I’d like to think he acts like his real self before the possession but when he needs to “feast” that’s when he doesn’t have much control. He hates the fact that he’s a cannibal now

^^ speaking of that I’d compare it to kaneki from Tokyo ghoul.

Heightened senses

^ hates being in loud settings because of his heightened hearing senses

He’s very intelligent and experienced in medical stuff because he was a med student and still knows everything he’s learned to this day

Has depression and misses his normal life he once had.

Insecure about his appearance after the possession so he rarely takes his mask off in front of others

His skin is cold

He has a very calm personality but I think he would get irritated/annoyed easily. Especially if it’s noisy

He already had a deep ish voice when he was human but now it’s slightly gotten deeper

A nerd at heart lol

Keeps all his medical tools sanitized.

He already has enhanced strength so he doesn’t technically need weapons with him during a kill but he’ll use a scalpel to kill them quickly because he’s not killing for an interest of violence or anything he just needs to eat so he’d prefer if it’s quick and easy. Sometimes he just takes an organ and stitches them up (he can easily and carefully suture)

Sorry if this was short I’m having a bit of a block :(

My requests are still open! Just read the pinned post on my page if you’re interested in sending a request and I’ll get to them whenever I can! Life’s a bit busy so I’m sorry if it’s a bit late!

Tim hc’s are on the way next!

[hestella]

Hannibal Lector x reader: A new face part. 2

A/N: Someone teach Tumblr to me. It's too complicated. I'm not done watching Hannibal cause it's too hard to watch and I'm not smart enough!

Warning: Blind reader, depiction of violence, sexual violence, cannibalism, well it's Hannibal, A lot of mistakes, etc, etc.

Part 1

“Humans have constantly, somehow, throughout the entire history, made some being, or even beings, that were superior than themselves and called them God. The existence of a ultimate power has been created in all known civilizations that sustained long enough to have a written language, and for even those we don’t know had a language, we assume, that there was some type of god within their society, only they couldn’t afford writing it down.” 

Y/N’s voice echoed around the lecture hall. She was wearing a classy, somewhat antique 3-piece suit that had a dark blue color, which went well with her leather shoes too. 

Hannibal sat in the corner, watching and listening to her lecture. He didn’t see himself as much as a philosophical guy, but to be honest it was quite interesting. Her aura and her appearances made it more interesting, more mysterious along with the fact that she was lecturing about philosophy.

His thoughts were similar to others. Other students seemed to be fascinated by the subject. There seemed to be students of all backgrounds, one wearing a lab coat, one who looked like an art major, he even saw some older people who looked like other professors too.

She did not walk around the room like Will. She stood still in a podium, not even using a slideshow to teach. 

“but then, how, one might wonder, and why, could all these pre-historic people collectively think to make ‘god’? Perhaps, it has something to do with evolutionary theory?” She paused. “Any guesses?”

A few students raised their hands, but Hannibal internally tilted his head, how could she possibly see who raised their hands?

“..wow, nobody? I must be blind,” she made a joke, causing the students to laugh. “Don’t be afraid to speak out, please, I may not be able to see, but my hearing’s fine.”

“Apologies, professor. I..I think the essential part of that question is whether or not the pre-historic people knew what they were making was a real God. It may have started from scratch, like, you know, the things adults tell children to explain natural disasters and so.” A student, a bright girl, said. 

“Great. And your name is?”

“Marissa Schurr, professor.” She answered.

“Marissa, do you have any personal beliefs? I’m not asking about religion, just anything.” Y/N looked towards Marissa, her white eyes staring at her. 

“..I..I don’t know, professor, well I’m an atheist, but probably,” 

Y/N smiled faintly. “I understand. Who believes the ‘3 second rule’ here? Or even, who believes the number 13 as unfortunate or, related to death? 7 as the lucky number?” She asked the whole. 

The vast majority of the people whispered among themselves and nodded, few raised their hands.

“I assume most of you guys do believe those. None of those ‘beliefs’ I mentioned are true, we know that, but why do we believe in it?” She paused once more. 

“It’s because us, as humans, and other intellectual animals, find comfort in things that make sense. Myths can be seen as complete lies, but they are logical, sometimes because the majority of the people say it’s logical. For example, the number 13 was the amount of people that had the last supper with Jesus Christ the night he was betrayed, according to the Bible. That is why we think 13 as bad, or unlucky.” The students nodded and jotted down notes as she spoke.

“If I were to say, the reason why it rains is because someone living in the sky cries, and the rain is their tears falling, most of you will obviously, not believe me. But, if you were primitives, and knew nothing about how rain falls, you would have believed me, and the person in the sky would be your God.” 

“Would it, though, professor? I mean, just because you’re a primitive doesn’t mean you’re stupid, or dumb,” another student pointed out. 

She smiled. “To be honest, we don’t know. Why? Because we’re not primitives. We can’t unlearn what we learned. So, I’ll give you a project to find this out. Everyone take notes on this.” 

Everyone shuffled to get their papers. 

“Find a young human, a child, or someone, that doesn’t know how it rains, and also an atheist. Explain and persuade them that it rains because of some other reason, involving a deity of some form, and tell me how it goes. I’ll cold call anyone, so be prepared.” 

She held her hands together. “And that’s the end, ladies, gentlemen, and everyone else in the middle, see you next time.” 

All the students stood up, thanking her. She nodded and waved everyone good bye, reaching for her white cane, which was folded inside the podium. 

Hannibal waited until everyone was out, and headed towards her, purposefully making little noise. 

“That was an impressive lecture, Ms. Y/L/N, or should I say professor?” He suddenly spoke. 

“Dr. Lector! I felt someone familiar,” she looked towards him, a light chuckle coming out.

“How did you know it was me?” Hannibal asked. 

“It’s hard to forget a charming yet profound voice like yours, doctor,” she gave him a smile.

“Ah, you flatter me, Ms.Y/L/N.“ Hannibal’s eyebrows were raised at the unexpected compliment.

“What do I have the pleasure of hearing it again? Another case?” She asked, packing her simple bag.

“Not quite. Agent Crawford wants me to evaluate you too. Take a close eye.” Hannibal said, everything not entirely truths, but also not a lie.

“Ah. Crawford.” She muttered as she held her white cane. 

“I wish that’s okay with you?” Hannibal asked. 

“..Agent Crawford seems quite desperate for my help,” she muttered. “..don’t you think? I’m just not sure if I can be that much of help, despite having you analyze me,”

“You don’t think you’re worth a eval?”

“I don’t think I’m worthy to use taxes, to be exact. The payment is from the FBI, no? Funding of the FBI is from taxes…” she tapped her walking cane as she got off the podium. 

“You’ve done plenty, maybe more than plenty for the FBI in return, Ms. Y/L/N. And not every fund from the government necessarily comes with a return, either.” Hannibal followed her from a respectable distance. 

“Will, maybe. Me? I don’t think so.” she chuckled lightly. “It’s somewhat unethical, you know, wasting money. Especially the money collected by the government, from the people of this country…” 

Hannibal listened to this elongated philosophical rant, about the duties of a democratic country. She was more talking to herself rather than talking to him, not letting him get the upper hand of the conversation. 

Autism? His mind thought of it. But she didn’t seem to have trouble communicating. ADHD? maybe. 

Or, she just was ranting unrelated stuff to avoid him analyzing, not knowing he just did.

She tapped her cane to began to leave the lecture hall, except that there was a slight height difference between the podium and the floor, causing her to stumble. 

Hannibal rushed over and gently placed his hands on her arms to steady her. 

“Careful.” He said. 

“Thank you, what is it?” She asked, feeling the floor with her feet. 

“There’s a step down between the carpet floor and the podium.” 

“..there wasn’t one on the other side,” she muttered, slowly stepping down. 

“Yes, there wasn’t. Must’ve been a mistake,” Hannibal confirmed. 

“…well, thank you again. But I have another lecture to give today, unfortunately,” she said facing Hannibal. 

“No worries. I’ll book your session whenever you’re comfortable, Ms. Y/L/N.” 

=-=

“Wildlife hunters tend to hunt within a narrow limt. They don’t hunt the younger ones, or their parents, they don’t use extensive traps to find them, and they don’t kill endagered species. If they do, they tend to honor their bodies, at least to pay for the nature’s lose and its effects.” She told to the people performing autopsy on Cassie Boyle. 

“Since when did you become a wildlife expert?” Beverly Katz asked. 

“Last night,” Y/N shrugged. “The point is that this isn’t what the Shrike would have done to his victims. This is simply disgrace. He even put the last victim’s body back as an apology. That man would take the girl’s lungs while alive and stick her body to deer antlers? I don’t think so.”

Will nodded, satisfied that she was able to back up his point. 

“Then who do you suggest did this?” Jack asked. 

“Why are you so afraid of admitting there’s a copycat?” She asked. 

There was silence. The people who knew Jack felt their own hair stand up at her question, sensing some sort of nervousness.

“Oh, I’m not afraid, it’s just that there’s 2 killers out there instead of one!” Jack replied with heavy sarcasm.

“The copycat won’t kill another like this one. It’s a…one-time thing.” She answered. 

“And how do you know that, exactly?” Jack asked, clearly annoyed. 

“If the copycat wanted to kill to confuse the FBI into thinking there was only one killer, they would have done it already. But it’s too different, and they know it.” She replied calmly. 

“Why would they do that?” 

“…curiosity,” she replied. 

“A dare,” Will answered. 

“Hold on, you two are telling me that the copycat killed a person just to try it out?” Jack looked at them both weird. 

“..that’s what I think,” she muttered. “The timing’s strange. It’s right after the case was posted on tattlecrime, the copycat might have been interested.” She shrugged. 

=-=-

It was very early in the morning when she heard a ring on her door. 

She spent the night with Will at the motel in Minnesota, and she had to go back to Baltimore to continue her job. She just had the time to change and sleep a few hours before having to wake up and go give a lecture again. 

She stirred awake, not entirely sure if the doorbell was her imagination or not. 

But the bell kept ringing, so she reluctantly got up from the couch and grabbed her robe from where she remembered she had put. She leaned on the door. “..who is it?” She asked in a quiet voice.

“Y/N? It’s Hannibal.” 

At first she thought of who this ‘Hannibal’ was, then she realized and quickly opened the door. The scent of the morning dew and a faint smell of raw meat was the first thing she felt. 

“..is, is it not,” she touched her wrist braille clock to check the time. “..4 in the morning?” She asked, confused. 

“It is, Ms.Y/N. I came with breakfast. Thought it would be a good way to start.” 

She was still processing. “..okay, come in,” her mouth moved, however.

He stepped in, looking around. Her house was clean, nothing on the ground or visual accessories. 

“…why, um, why did you come here, again?” she asked, still sumbfounded. 

“I brought you breakfast, a little ‘get together’ time. I cooked it myself.” 

“You cook?” she muttered and hurried to turned on the kitchen lights and get out forks and knives. 

Hannibal comfortably sat on one side of the island table, taking out the things he brought. “I take extra caution on what I put in my body. A simple salad, with eggs and roasted salmon to cover the protein.” 

“..oh, actually, um..” she hesitated to say. “..I’m quite strictly vegan, so I don’t think I can eat it,” she said. “…I’m truely sorry,” 

“Are you know? That’s unfortunate. Luckly, I’ve made a simple vegan Ceasar salad too,” Hannibal took out another container and gave it to her. 

She looked surprised but got the container anyways, her nature being unable to refuse. “o,oh?” she studdered. 

In reality, it was Hannibal’s plan to test her. He wanted to see if she was really vegan, and how strictly she was vegan, acting like he didn’t know her appetite at all. The ceaser salad wasn’t even vegan, it had anchoive, well, which she didn’t have to know that.

“Please, feel free to eat it,” Hannibal insisted, not giving her time to refuse. 

She reached for her fork and hesitantly started to eat it. “…it..it’s good. Delicious,” she admitted. 

“My pleasure,” Hannibal said. “..forgive me for my curiousity, but do you cook? And if so, is there anything different, considering that you’re visually impaired?” 

“I don’t really cook, not really. If I used to cook before…before I went blind, I probably would have continued, but…I just never found food to be that worthy of spending my time.” She replied. 

“Ah. Do you drink, then?” Hannibal asked, planning what kind of wine he should give her in case he wanted to invite her to a dinner party.

“uh, I drink water, that’s all. Not really…alcohol,” she replied. 

There was silence, and then a laughter. 

“Sorry, I just…I’m so sorry.” She laughed, eating the salad. 

“Don’t be, it’s not like all people drink,” Hannibal didn’t smile, but Y/N, who could only hear his voice, assumed he was smiling. 

“I do have wine, and some whiskey, I think, if you want them.” she cleared her throat. 

“Why do you have wine if you don’t drink?” Hannibal asked. 

“Well, I get gifts, even though I tell them I don’t need them at all,” she muttered, standing up and heading towards a wine celler. 

“Really? They send you wine gifts?” Hannibal asked, while he took out a vile of GHB from his pocket and covered the sound of it unscrewing with the sound of him clearing his throat. 

“Yeah, I guess it’s what they can give to me without getting awkward, you know?” She chuckled. 

He made a chuckling sound, but his face was still. He reached over to her salad and spread the clear GHB equally on it, before she returned with a wine bottle. 

“Do you know what this is? That’s the newest one, I believe.” She said, handing him the wine.

“A Chianti, italian wine, One of the best. I’m surprised you have it,” he looked at it, observed with quite genuine amazement. 

“Is it? Oh well, that’s my gift for this amazing salad,” she smiled and sat back down.

Hannibal stared intently at her, seeing her every movements when eating the salad with the extra ingredient he just put, GHB. He couldn’t help a smile creep up his lips as he saw she ate, her plate getting empty each second. Sep.24 edit: Asperger’s —> ADHD

Tag list:

@wolfgirl-205

(the urge to just write non-plot smut.....is the way I know I'm ovulating)

[jumping-joey1104]

You got any HABIT headcanons?

Habit Headcanons

(tw: talk of cannibalism, mentions of violence)

Ok so let's start off with saying Habit is feral. Like he probably has rabies and not the haha funny kind. Like full on demon of a man. HE ATE A BABY

Bro was all about them baby back ribs and Jeff kabobs I don't think he a normal guy.

In that sense however he’s a very sadistic and sociopathic being that extends past our little human minds.

He can heal Evan’s body at will throughout the series, so I'd like to believe that this guy has done things off camera that we haven't seen.

I can bet a total of… three dollars and 57 cents that he acts like Bill from “Gravity Falls” but when he's possessing Dipper. Like this demon has zero social understanding unless it's to destroy society.

That being said let's think of some more positive headcanons (if that's possible)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★

I like to think that he has a huge sweet tooth, not just for Reese’s but any chocolate. Hershey, KitKats, and even chocolate bunnies.

Unlike Evan, he’s a big junk food enthusiast, Wendy’s and McDonald’s and this man is scarfing them down with no care in the world.

Genuinely, on god, Habit believes that Salsa is a smoothie because “all vegetables are fruit or berries anyways” he really doesn't care about anything with nutritional value.

Habit is definitely more possessive than he lets on, not just being possessive over a human but anything. We see this with the table of weapons etc.

So my thought is that Habit has a soft spot for gifts. I mean he is technically a demonic force and what deity doesn’t like a few gifts every once in a while?

But this dude is demanding when it comes to gifts, if he doesn't like it he’ll be able to tell you nicely and gently that he doesn't like his gift.

I mean you might end up tied up with a purple bow and thrown off a nearby bridge but hey. Kinda comes with the package of trying to be thoughtful to a demon with a crappy appetite and a bad attitude that reflects a discord mod that listens to Frank Sinatra

I like to think that habit is much more powerful in the Candleverse than he lets on. Yeah, he can teleport himself and others in this universe I like to think he can also navigate and change the universe more thoroughly.

Nearly a god in this universe compared to the others, can just click his fingers to make things appear but where’s the fun in that? The best part is getting hands-on with the experience when it comes to him.

So that’s why he just keeps a table of weapons and goes to drive-thrus. It's just how he is. A confusing mess of chaos and calamity matoty shoved into a five-foot-tall college boy.

[hayleythecannibal]

Twisted Minds Chapter One: Apéritif

TW: death, crime scenes, Cannibalism.

Warning this is Fem!reader. You can also find this on Wattpad and A03 @ HayleyMarieOfficial. Comment if you want to be added to the Taglist. ❤️

F.B.I. ACADEMY, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA

I walk into a Lecture hall and stand in the shadows next to my new boss Agent Jack Crawford, head of the FBI's Behavioral Science Analysis Unit or the BAU.  I listen as the teacher describes the crime scene he witnessed. "Everyone has thought about killing someone one way or another. Be it your own hands or the hand of God. Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow." The man says in a tone i can describe as knowledgeable. A series of pictures of the Marlow home crime scene photos are projected on the screen behind the stoic man. He surveys the lecture hall for social appearances. He never meets an eye, at most he glimpses brows, lids, the occasional lash -- but never eye contact. "Why did she deserve this? Tell me your design. Tell me who you are." he asks Jack and I enter as the trainees file out of the classroom. There are scattered smitten glances tossed in the Teachers direction, who is naturally oblivious because he is actively avoiding eye-contact with everyone, even as he warns his exiting students: "The sad, dull truth of these crimes is they can usually be reduced to a male penetrative control issue. I am expecting a higher level of scrutiny." he says in a wise tone, the last of the trainees leave and the teacher notices he's alone in his lecture hall with the weathered, austere man and put together, classy young woman. "Mr. Graham." Agent Crawford says as the man i have now put together is Mr. Will Graham quickly puts on a pair of glasses as Jack and I approach. The top rim of Wills glasses are strategically positioned to block Me and Jacks eyes and prevent direct eye-contact. "I'm Special Agent Jack Crawford. I lead the Behavioral Science Unit. I want you to meet Dr. Y/n L/n, shes a psychiatrist and my new criminal profiler." jack introduces himself and me to the man. I smile kindly at the man as i hold my hand for him to shake, i don't look him in the eyes as i don't like eye contact; eyes tell to much and make it hard for me to focus. "its nice to meet you Mr. Graham, I've heard great things." i say in a kind and polite tone

"its a pleasure to meet you Dr. L/n" Will says shaking my hand and giving me a bittersweet and slightly uncomfortable smile. " You've hitched your horse to a teaching post. I understand it's not easy for you to be sociable." Jack says as he looks at me and will analyzing each other "I'm just talking at them. I'm not listening to them. It's not social." he says still looking at me doing the same as i am Analyzing. Jack gently pushes Will's glasses up the bridge of his nose so he's forced to make fleeting eye contact. "Where do you fall on the spectrum?" Jack asks Will picks up the rhythm and syntax of Jack's voice: so do I "My horse is hitched to a post closer to Aspergers and Autistics than narcissists and sociopaths." will says looking down avoiding eye contact with Jack. "But you can empathize with narcissists and sociopaths. Like Dr. L/n can correct?" Jack asks in a curious tone, "I can empathize with anybody. Less to do with personality disorders than an active imagination." I say and Will nods to agree with me Jack smiles at that "Its the same for me, i can empathize with anybody but like Dr. L/n said its less to do with personality disorders and more to do with an active imagination." Will says as he packs up his bag. "Well, Can I borrow your imagination?" he asks will Agent Crawford leads Me and Will Graham across a field of Trainees on a Firing Range as another group of trainees in matching sweats jogs by. "Eight girls from eight different Minnesota campuses abducted in the last eight months." jack says briefing me and Will on the case, "I thought there were seven." i say slightly confused, i look over at will and it seems like hes in the same boat "There were." jack says looking over at me "When did you tag the eighth?" Will asks Jack in a similar tone that i used. "About three minutes before Me and Dr. L/n walked into your lecture hall." jack says, he didn't mention this to me "You're calling them "abductions" because you have no bodies?" Will says curious "We have nothing. No bodies. No parts of bodies. Nothing that comes out of a body. We have lonely swabs in used evidence kits." jack says in a tone twinged in desperateness " Then those girls weren't taken from where you think they were taken." i say in a sarcastic tone "Where were they taken from?" jack asks look over at me then at will "I don't know. Someplace else." will says smiling sarcastically, i chuckle at that.

Seven blue squares dot the Minnesota map corresponding with seven graduation or casual pictures of the seven missing girls. "All abducted on a Friday so they're not reported missing until Monday. However he's covering his, tracks he needs the weekend to do it." Jack says as he Guides me and Will over and hands me a picture of what i assume is the eighth victim. "Number eight?" will asks looking at the picture over my shoulder and no longer wearing his glasses "Elise Nichols. St. Cloud State on the Mississippi. Disappeared Friday. Supposed to house sit for her parents over the weekend. Feed their cat. Never made it home." jack says i roll my eyes "One through seven are dead, don't you think?" i ask sarcastically humoring will "He's not keeping them around. Got himself a new one." will agrees by taking the words out of my mouth "We're focusing on Elise Nichols" Jack says agreeing with Me and Will. Will and I take in the smiling hopeful faces next to the corresponding blue squares . "They're all very uh Mall of America. That's a lot of wind-chaffed skin." Will says as he gazes at the girls faces "Same hair color. Same eye color. Roughly same age, height, weight. What is it about all these girls?" jack asks looking at Me and Will "It's not about all of these girls. It's about one of them." i say as I pin Elise Nichols' photo next to the eighth blue square.

"He's like Willy Wonka. Every girl he takes is a candy bar. Hidden amongst all those candy bars is the one, true intended victim, which if we follow through on the metaphor, would be your Golden Ticket." Will says following my train of thought "So is he warming up for his Golden Ticket or reliving whatever he did to her." jack asks as he steps to stand right next to us "Golden Ticket wouldn't be the first taken and she wouldn't be the last. He would hide how special she is. I mean, I would. Wouldn't you?" i ask looking up from the girls faces to jack "I'd like you and Dr. L/n to get closer to this." jack says looking at us, will starts to shake his head "You have Heimlich at Harvard, Bloom at Georgetown and now Dr. L/n. They do the same thing I do." will says as he turns around and starts grabbing his stuff. "That's not really true, is it? You and Dr. L/n have a specific way of thinking. and from what i see so far you and Dr. L/n work very well together." jack says as i turn around to face will crossing my arms and leaning against the table "Has there been a lot of discussion about the specific way Me and Mr. Graham think?" i ask pointedly "Both of you make jumps you don't explain." jack says looking at me then will dead in the eyes.

"The evidence explains." Will says seeing that jack is upsetting me "Then help me find some evidence."jack says Will studies the beautiful milquetoast faces on the map. "That may require me to be sociable." Will says sarcastically   DULUTH,MINNESOTA      ~ THE NICHOLS' HOME~

Elise's parents are from what i can deduce, sick with worry. Mr. Nichols is rationalizing while Mrs. Nichols seems almost resigned. "She could have gone off by herself. She was a very interior young woman. She didn't like living in a dorm. I could see how the pressure of school might have gotten to her. She likes trains. Maybe she just got on a train and..." Me, Will Graham, and Jack Crawford sit opposite Mr. and Mrs. Nichols as he trails off. Hard to convince even himself. Will continues to avoid eye contact with the Nichols. "She looks like the other girls." Mrs. Nichols says anxiously  Jack nods as Me and Will stand up to look around at the home " Yes, She fits the profile." jack says calmly "Could Elise still be alive?" Mr. Nichols asks cautiously, I feel bad for the couple knowing the odds of their daughter being alive is very slim. "We simply have no way of knowing." jack says solemnly, A previously silent Will Graham offers an odd question: "How's the cat?" will asks turning around looking at the Nichols "What?" Mrs. Nichols asks confused i continue Wills line of questioning "How's your cat? Elise was supposed to feed it. Was the cat weird when you came home? It didn't eat all weekend. Must have been hungry." i ask looking over at Will and the Nichols.

The Nichols are initially unsure how to respond to my question, then: "I didn't notice." Mr. Nichols says absently, I look over at Will and Jack. Will looks at me and seems to know what im thinking and nods, my suspicions were correct he took her from here. "would you give us a moment" Jack ask and he pulls Me and Will aside "He took her from here." Will says softly so that the parents don't hear, Jack gives Will a look that says 'go on'  "She got on a train. She came home. She fed the cat. And he took her." I continue for Will, i look at Jack dead serious Jack nods understanding.  Jack doesn't hesitate to pull out his phone and dial. "The Nichols house is a crime scene. I need ERT immediately. Zeller, Katz, Jimmy Price, and a photographer." Jack says into the phone. The Nichols are trying to wrap their minds around the quick flurry of action and what it means to their little girl. Me and Will turn to the parents "Can we see your daughter's room?" Will asks the Nichols "the Police were up there this morning." Mrs. Nichols says softly

Mr. Nichols leads Will and I, who are pulling on gloves as we approach. Will warily eyes the cat pawing at the door eager to go inside. I stop  Mr. Nichols from reaching the door knob. "I'll get that. Mr. Nichols, would you put your hands in your pockets and avoid touching anything please?" i ask sincerly, not wanting to be rude but also not wanting the man to disrupt the evidence "We been in and out of here all day." Mr. Nichols responds "You can hold the cat if it's easier." Will says continuing my notion, Mr. Nichols picks up the cat as instructed. I wrap a gloved hand around the knob and open the door. The light from the hallway streaks across the floor and up the wall as Will and I enter. We stand  just inside the door, immediately noticing the open window. Will flicks on the light switch, illuminating the room. I stare at the sight in front of me. Elise Nichols. She lays coffin-style in her bed, dressed in pajamas as if she had just gone to sleep. The gray pallor of her skin, the clean puncture wounds visible under her pajamas, and her un- breathing bosom are immediately evident to Will and I. Sadly, Mr. Nichols fails to notice. Blinded by hope, he steps forward. "Elise?" Mr. Nichols asks Hopefully, my heart aches for the father. Will raises a gloved hand, stopping Mr. Nichols. as i take a step forward to assess the situation without touching the body. "I need you to leave the room." Will says to Mr. Nichols still holding him back. Realizing the worst, Mr. Nichols abruptly drops the cat.

~20 MINUTES LATER~

"You're all wired. You talk it out to us when you feel like it, don't say anything when you don't feel like it. Take as long as you want. We will come in when you tell us." Jack tells Me and Will, Will nods but i just continue looking at the body. Jack stands and exits the room. reflected light flashes across my face, lighting up my cobalt blue eyes. All sound is dulled as if my ears were blocked, the ambient noise of my circulatory system provides an organic hum. The crime scene photographers takes pictures.  Jack  herds Price, Katz and Zeller out the door. Will scoops up water in his hands from the faucet in the sink to wash down the last two Aspirin from his now empty bottle. He splashes water on his face, dries it with his shirttail. I have climbed out the window onto the porch roof. I sit on the gritty shingles. I hug My knees, my damp shirt pressed cold across my back. I snort the night air to cleanse the smell of Elise Nichols death from my nose as Will climbs out and joins me. From Our vantage point, we  can see police officers, police cars and other crime scene specialists assembled on the lawn.

Mr. and Mrs. Nichols are treated in the back of an Ambulance. I take a breath, exhales, then close My eyes. A PENDULUM  It swings in the darkness of My mind, keeping rhythm with my heart beat. FWUM. FWUM. FWUM.  I open my eyes and  i am standing outside Elise Nichols' Bedroom Window. The neighborhood is quiet and empty. No Police. No Police Cars. No Ambulance. I look through the window glass to Elise Nichols sleeping soundly in her bed. I quietly open the window.  I stand over Elise Nichols, very much alive. I watch her for a quiet moment. Tears well in My eyes, then... I bear down on Elise's chest with my knee, cracking ribs as I simultaneously squeezes her throat shut with my hands. It's sudden and horrible and violent. Elise is immediately startled out of a deep sleep into terror, I feel her fear and confusion. Elise struggles, her face swelling with pressure, capillaries in her skin and the whites of her eye wrinkle and burst. Tears stream down her cheeks as she tries to scream but cannot. The bed board finally SNAPS and with it, Elise dies.  i feel the killers, who my mind is potraying me as emotions hes or i've in this case killed her with love and care and mercy but also rage.

"You're Will Graham. and your Dr.Y/n L/n." i snap my eyes open now standing in the room next to Will as hes also been startled, doing the same thing i was. i look at the person who interrupted my design. but before i can say anything to the woman. "You're not supposed to be in here." Will says annoyed and breathing heavily. "You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity." The woman says while looking at will with curiosity then gives me the same look. She indicates her tweezers and what's between them. "Found velvet in two of the wounds." she says non-chalantly she then looks back at Will "You're not real F.B.I.?" she asks smirking, i look at her annoyed and with a pointed look.

"I'm a special investigator." Will says looking at the body still "Never been an F.B.I. Agent?" she asks in a tone of disbelief. "Strict screening procedures." I say for Will, "Detects instability. He unstable?" she asks me, Jack Crawford hurries in, as annoyed with The woman as Will and I are. " you Know You're not supposed to be in here." Jack says as he looks towards the woman, her badge says Beverly Katz, "Found antler velvet in two of the wounds. Like she was gored. Was looking for velvet in the other wounds but I was interrupted." Beverly says now looking towards Me and Will. Brian Zeller is now standing next to Will. "Deer and elk pin their prey, put all their weight on the antlers and try to suffocate them. That's how they would kill a fox or a coyote." Zeller says in a know-it-all tone. Me and Will very subtilely retreats from the conversation. "Elise Nichols was strangled and suffocated. Ribs were broken." Jack says stating the facts everyone in the room already knows.

"It's not rutting season. Male deer aren't competing for female deer this time of year." Zeller says thinking, "Antler velvet is rich in nutrients. It actually promotes healing. He may have put it there on purpose." Will says turning towards the group, "You think he wanted to heal her?" Jack asks Will and I, "He was trying to undo as much as he could, given he already killed her." i say following Wills train of thought yet again. "He put her back where he found her." Jack says looking at us, "Whatever he did to the others, he couldn't do it to her." Will says softly and staring off, "Is this his Golden Ticket?" Jack asks looking at Elise's cold dead body, i shake my head and turn to the group "No. This is an apology." i say softly and sad The "apology" catches in My throat and hangs in the air. Will runs his hand over his forehead and takes a deep breath. "Does anyone have any Aspirin?" Will asks, disassociating.

F.B.I HEADQUARTERS, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA  ~NEXT DAY~

Will stands over a sink, splashing water on his face, rattled. Will pats his face dry with paper towels as Jack enters, impatient, having been looking for Will for some time. "What are you doing in here?" jack asks obviously upset "I enjoy the smell of urinal cake." Will says not looking at Jack, and leaning on the sink. "Me, too. Lets talk." Jack says as he points to the door and walks to his office with  Me already being in there. Will eyes Jack as he enters Jack closes the door, realizing he's not getting by without conversation. "Do you respect my judgement, Will?" Jack asks Will, Will looks down  "Yes." he says looking up at me, he has dark circles under his eyes he obviously didnt have the best night. "We have a better chance of catching this guy if you Two are in the saddle." Jack says pointedly at us "I'm in the saddle. Just confused which direction I'm pointing." Will says, i cant help but agree with his statement.  "I don't know this kind of psychopath. Never read about him. I don't even know if he's a psychopath. He's not insensitive. He's not shallow." i say as i start pacing, thinking. Just because i am a psychiatrist doesn't mean i don't need one myself.

"You could tell something about him or you wouldn't've said this was an apology. What's he apologizing for?" Jack says towards Me, Will joins me in my pacing " He Couldn't honor her. He feels bad." Will says flustered and a little upset. " Well Feeling bad defeats the purpose of being a psychopath, doesn't it?" Jack says angrily "Yes. It does." Will growls back "Then what kind of crazy is he Y/n?" Jack yells at Me, I take a shaky deep breath "He couldn't show her he loved her so he put her corpse back where he killed it. Whatever crazy that is." I say looking at Jack, as I and subsequently Will stop pacing. "You think he loves these girls?" Jack says confused "He loves one of them, and I think by association, he has some form of love for the others." Will says quickly and with a emotion i couldn't say. "There was no semen or saliva. Elise Nichols died a virgin and she stayed that way." Jack says He probably think we Mean love in a sexual or romantic way. but no thats what sets me off "That's not how he's loving them. He wouldn't disrespect them that way. He doesn't want these girls to suffer. He kills them quickly and, to his thinking, with mercy." I say angrily and with anxiety. "A sensitive psychopath. He risked getting caught to tuck Elise Nichols back into bed." Jack says putting together what Me and Will are saying. "He has to take the next girl soon. He knows he's going to get caught. One way or the other." Will says looking at me. I leave Jacks office Will trailing behind me, he grabs my arm and turns me to look at him. Will looks at me, his eyes tired and dull but still beautiful in a haunting way. His mind is a complicated, sometimes impossible puzzle. But that's what made him so good at what he does. Will can see things, make connections that other people can't. He's not afraid to look into the ugly parts of himself or others. And he's not afraid of the darkness of life. He knows that he has to go there sometimes. And he is brave enough, and humble enough, to admit when he needs help. I look Will in the eyes and for the first time in a long time i feel Ok looking into someones eyes. "I'm sorry for my outburst in there" i say in a calm and kind tone giving him a sweet and genuine smile. "It's fine. Don't worry about it." Will said with a warm smile, he was very forgiving. "Jack doesn't fully understand How we think  but we have to work with him." he said, he would always find some way to make a situation better.

i chuckle as i start walking towards the Examination room and lab My heels clicking behind me as i walk. "that we do. You know its kinda nice having someone understand the way my mind works" i say smiling  Will follows behind Me, His footsteps echoing Mine. "It makes things easier." Will says with a  genuine smile. "We can help each other, and work together like this. I like being able to be myself with you." He continues, I look at him with a smile and a curious look "And how do you act with others Will" i ask still smiling happily. "Different." His smile fades away for a second, he looks away from me before continuing his sentence. "Most people i work with don't want to see me completely unmasked. Especially because they don't understand. But you. You do understand. And i like that." he says with a soft smile, He likes how he could talk openly with me.  "I feel the same. You know its always difficult trying to explain to people. but with you its easier i guess" i smile sweetly and continue walking, "Being understood is the most valuable thing." Will says looking at me, "i mean it really is. when people can understand you without you having to explain, its beautiful. and its very difficult, very rare. but with you Y/n I have that." He continues, smiling as we reached our destination. I smile, as my stomach fills with butterflies as we walk into the room.

F.B.I. HEADQUARTERS - EXAMINATION ROOM - DAY

Beverly Katz and Brian Zeller hover over the examination table as Jimmy Price continues to UNZIP the BODY BAG, all wearing gloves, aprons and splash visors. "Tried her skin for prints. Of course, nothing. We did get a hand spread off her neck." Jimmy says looking at the body "Report say anything about nails?" Beverly asks Price, raising her eyebrow. "Her fingernails were smudged when we took scrapings. The scrapings were where she cut her palms with them. She never scratched him." Zeller says looking at the report "Curly piece of metal is all we got." Beverly says as she looks over and see's Me and Will enter the room smiling, she starts smirking. "We should be looking at plumbers, steamfitters, tool-workers." Will says absently his breathing is amplified in his ears as it fogs his vision. He takes a breath and forces himself to look in the bag. There is no body, only darkness. And the sound of Will's breath bouncing off the splash visor. Elise Nichols She stands naked in that darkness, a deathly pallor. ANTLERS SPROUT LIKE BRANCHES from her WOUNDS. Tiny CRIMSON STREAMS defy gravity, climbing antlers and floating upward in beads. Will snaps back to reality: As before. Zeller, Katz, Price continue their examination.

"Other injuries were probably but not conclusively postmortem. So not gored." Zeller says that last part pointed towards Beverly. "She has lots of piercings that look like they were caused by deer antlers. I didn't say the deer was responsible for putting them there." Beverly says, I look up at Will and he nods once again saying that he knows what I'm thinking "She was mounted on them. Like hooks. She may have been bled." i say looking at the body Beverly and Jimmy glance at Will and I. Brian Zeller is too distracted by his investigation of the abdominal wound. "Her liver was removed. He took it out and put it back in. See."  Zeller says pointing to the liver of Elise Nichols, it has sutures in it.  Price looks confused "Why cut out her liver if he was just going to sew it back in again?" Jimmy asks confused, All muscle tone in Will's face goes slack. i look at him, realizing what he just did. "Something was wrong with the meat." Will states swallowing hard, Zeller looks up from the liver -- with a look that says 'how did Graham know?' "She has liver cancer." Zeller states in disbelief The facts briefly ricochet around in my mind and probably Will's too, then: "He's um- He's eating them." i say, then cover my mouth with my hand, then placing it right below my neck on my collarbone. F.B.I. - JACK CRAWFORD'S OFFICE - DAY

Will and I sit with  Dr. Hannibal Lecter and Jack Crawford. "Tell me then, how many confessions?" Dr. Lecter asks Jack, "Twelve dozen last time I checked. None of them knew details. Until this morning. Then everyone knew details. Some genius in Duluth PD took a picture of Elise Nichols' body with their phone and shared it with a few close friends. Freddy Lounds ran it on Tattlecrime.com." Jack says annoyed, Me and Will both roll our eyes at the so called journalists name. "Tasteless." Will says, i couldn't agree more. "Do you have trouble with taste?" Dr. Lecter asks Me and Will, "Our thoughts are often not tasty." I say, that's an understatement. "Nor mine. No effective barriers." Dr. Lecter smiles at Me and Will "I Build forts." will says raising his eyebrows and tilting his head and taking a sip of his coffee. "Associations come quickly." Dr. Lecter says nonchalantly passing me a cup of coffee. I nod my head as a thank you "So do forts." I say before taking a sip of the coffee, Dr. Lecter notices Will  and I avoiding looking anyone but each other in the eye.

"Not fond of eye contact, are you?" Dr. Lecter asks us, Me and Will sigh as we unapologetically continue to avoid eye contact. "Eyes are distracting. You see too much. You don't see enough." Will says as he rolls his eyes " That and it's hard to focus when you're thinking those whites are really white or they must have hepatitis, or is that a burst vein?" I say looking into Dr. Lecter's eyes for a second, Dr. Lecter isn't deflected from making our observations. "I imagine what you two see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations, appalled at your dreams. No forts in the bone arena of your skull for things you love." Dr. Lecter has just described Will and I to a letter, but We are not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. I realize something and i guess Will does too. "Whose profile are you working on?" Will asks Dr. Lecter pointedly, "Whose profile is he working on?" I ask Jack angrily. "I'm sorry, Dr. Y/n, Will. Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off anymore than you can shut yours off." Dr. Lecter says sincerely, I cant believe this Jack is having Me and Will psycho-analyzed, Will doesn't appreciate the intrusion into his psyche and neither do I.

"Please don't psychoanalyze Us. You won't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture on psychoanalyzing. Lets go Y/n." He scoots out of his chair and grabs my hand and we exit the room, leaving Dr. Lecter and Jack Crawford alone in the office.

MINNESOTA FIELD - THE NEXT MORNING

Will, Jack and I step over the police tape and look at the crime scene in front of us "The head was reported stolen last night about a mile from here."Jack says briefing us Will tilts his head in confusion "Just the head?" he asks Brian Zeller, Beverly Katz, and Jimmy Price are combing the immediate area for forensic evidence. Jack, Will and I stare as Beverly and Brian Zeller attempt to shoo the crows away."Minneapolis homicide has already made a statement. "They're calling him the 'Minnesota Shrike.'" Jack says raising his eyebrows "Like the bird?" I ask confused  "Shrike's a perching bird. Impales mice and lizards on thorny branches and barbed wire. Rips their organs right out of their bodies. Puts them in a little birdie pantry and eats them later. At its leisure." Zeller says morbidly, i furrow my brows and purse my lips. This Wasn't Our Killers Work.  "Sounds about right." Beverly exclaims, Jack shakes his head "Can't tell if it's sloppy or shrewd." He says tensing his Jaw, "He wanted her to be found this way. It's the homicidal equivalent of fecal smearing. It's petulant. I almost feel like he's mocking her. Or he's mocking us." Will says, i nod my head agreeing.

"Where'd all his love go?" Jack asks as Me and Will crouch beside the body. "Whoever tucked Elise Nichols into bed didn't paint this picture." I say solemnly, i almost lose my balance but Will puts his hand on the small on my back to keep me steady. I look up at him and smile. Brian Zeller looks up from Cassie's mounted corpse. "He took her lungs. I think she was still alive when he cut them out" Zeller says, i frown looking away from Will and back at the bodies Jack Crawford and Brian Zeller stand over the table that is CASSIE'S BODY. Beverly Katz and Jimmy Price work nearby. "Our cannibal loves women. He doesn't want to destroy them. He wants to consume them. Keep some part of them inside. This girl's killer thought she was a pig." I say shaking my head, "You think this is a copy cat?" jack ask Me and Will, Will and I take in the open field, considering the stage. "I don't know. Cannibal who killed Elise Nichols had a place to do it and no interest in field Kabuki. He has a house or two, or a cabin. Something with an antler room." Will says in annoyed tone but has determination on his face. "We're already looking at Minnesota steamfitters and plumbers and people with hunting licenses." Jack says, I realize something

"He has a daughter. Same age as the other girls. Same hair color, same eye color, same height, same weight. She's an only child. She's leaving home. He can't stand the thought of losing her. She's his Golden Ticket." I say walking off with Will heading to the rental car "What about the Copy Cat?" Jack asks "An intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist, is hard to catch. There's no traceable motive. There'll be no patterns. He may never kill like this again." Will says annoyed with Jack. Will  turns and crosses under the POLICE TAPE, tossing back: "Have Dr. Lecter work up a psychological profile. You seem to be impressed with his opinion." I snort at Wills remark

MINNEAPOLIS MOTEL ROOM -  NEXT MORNING

Will wraps a robe around himself as he shuffles to the door of his and my shared Motel room. wiping the fresh sleep out of his eyes. He opens the door revealing Hannibal Lecter standing outside holding Three cups,a thermos and a small thermal food storage bag. I sit up in my bed rubbing the sleep out of my eyes and go to the door where will is standing. "Good morning, Will. Good morning, Y/n. May I come in?" Hannibal says as Me and just Will stare at him. "Where's Crawford?" Will asks Hannibal "Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours, mine, and Y/n's today. May I come in?" Hannibal asks once again, me and will step out of his way as he heads towards the small table in the room. A beautifully presented breakfast for three served on tupperware containers on top of place settings. Freshly brewed coffee is poured into the three cups Hannibal carried.  Hannibal peels lids off the tupperware dishes. "I'm very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day. Some eggs, some sausage." Hannibal says passing Me and Will our food. Hannibal watches Will and I take a bite of our breakfast scramble. "It's delicious. Thank you" I say, it truly is delicious.

"My pleasure." Hannibal smiles, He is genuinely amused and successfully hides it. "I would apologize for my analytical ambush but I know I will soon be apologizing again and you'll tire of that eventually so I have to consider using apologies sparingly." Hannibal say in a tone i just cant put a finger on. "Just keep it professional." Will says, I look at him with confusion as he looks at Hannibal with pointed eyes. "Or we could socialize like adults,god forbid we become friendly." Hannibal smirks at will, i chuckle. "I don't find you that interesting." Will states nonchalantly, "You will. Agent Crawford tells me you two have a knack for the monsters." Hannibal says, I smirk as i take another bite of my breakfast. "I don't think the Shrike killed that girl in the field." I say after swallowing that bite of food, "The devil is in the details. What didn't your Copy Cat do to the girl in the field? What gave it away?" Hannibal asks i shake my head "Everything. It's like he had to show us a negative so we could see the positive. That crime scene was practically gift-wrapped." I say wiping my eyes and taking a sip of coffee, "The mathematics of human behavior. All those ugly variables. Some bad math with this shrike fellow. Are you reconstructing his fantasies? What kind of problems does he have?" Hannibal asks curiously, "He has a few." Will says almost with a wink:

"Ever have any problems, Will?" Hannibal asks looking over at Will "No." he responds softly and annoyed, "Of course you don't. You Two and I are just alike. Problem free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about. I think Uncle Jack sees you as a pair of fragile little tea-cups, the finest china used for only special guests." Hannibal states, Me and Will  laugh and lean back and look at him with curiosity "How do you see me?" Will asks curious as to what the answer is, "The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by." Hannibal responds "and Me?" i ask "You Y/n are the beautiful butterfly that needs to stay protected, otherwise when in danger the butterfly will die. Finish your breakfast." Hannibal says gazing at me

RENTAL CAR - DAY - Will throws the car into park and begins to unbuckle his seat belt when he notices Hannibal smiling."what are you smiling about?" Will asks Hannibal raising one of his eyebrows, "Peeking behind the curtain. Curious how the FBI goes about its business when it isn't kicking in doors." Hannibal replies smiling, i let out a relieved sigh as i unbuckle my seat belt "We're lucky we're not doing house to house interviews. We found a little piece of metal in the clothes Elise Nichols had on. A shred from a pipe threader." I say, shrugging "Must be hundreds of construction sites all over Minnesota." Hannibal points out, Will shakes his head "Certain kinda metal. Certain kinda pipe. Certain kinda pipe coating.So we're looking at construction sites that use that kinda pipe." Will sighs, "And what are we looking for?" Hannibal asks curious "At this stage, anything really. But mostly anything peculiar." I say getting out of the car and head towards the trailer office. Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter step out of the rental car and cross towards the trailer office  following behind me.

CAMPER TRAILER OFFICE - DAY -

flustered, mildly suspicious secretary named DIXIE stares at Will, Hannibal, and I leafing through pages as she talks on she phone in an ineffective hushed tone. "Two fellas  and a chick from the F.B.I. They're going through drawers now. Putting papers in file boxes. Yes. They're taking things. No. They didn't say whe -- Yes, they can. what did you say your names were?" The secretary asks wearily Just then, Will finds a resignation letter of note. "Garret Jacob Hobbs." Will asks in a questioning tone "One of our pipe threaders. Those are all the resignation letters. Plumbers union requires them whenever members finish a job. I'll call you back." The secretary Dixie says as  she   hangs up the phone and scoots out from around her desk. "Did Mr. Hobbs have a daughter?" I ask placing my hands on my hips looking at the woman "Might have." the woman says suspiciously, I eye her analyzing her every move and noise. "Eighteen or nineteen, wind-chaffed? Plain but pretty? She would have auburn hair. About this tall." Will continues questioning her "Maybe. I don't know. I don't keep company with these people." she rolls her eyes and sits back down at her desk.

"What is it about Garret Jacob Hobbs you find so peculiar?" Hannibal asks Will as he looks over at us, "Left a phone number. No address." Will responds, i look over his shoulder at the file "Therefore he has something to hide?" Hannibal asks, Will shrugs not putting too much weight on the matter. "Everyone else left an address. You have an address for Mr. Hobbs?" I ask the secretary, Will, Hannibal and I haul file boxes from the make-shift office building to the trunk of their rental car. Hannibal allows himself to knock a box out of the trunk, scattering papers. Will and I stoop to pick them up. "I got it." Will says squatting down with me to start picking up papers. As Will and I pick up the pages, Hannibal returns to the make shift office Hannibal waits as the door hinges closed and latches with a CLICK, watching Y/n and Will clean up the mess he made. Satisfied, Hannibal picks up the phone with a Tissue. "You don't know me and I suspect we'll never meet. This is a courtesy call. Listen very carefully. Are you listening? They Know." Hannibal says

HOBBS HOUSE - CAR - DAY -

Will pops an Aspirin behind the wheel of the rental car. Lector and I unbuckle our seatbelts. Will thinks a moment before getting out. Hannibal smiles, a hint of excitement. Will and I walk purposefully to the front door,  Will is trying his best not to look uncomfortable. Hannibal purposefully lags behind. Will and I are halfway to the door when it suddenly opens: LOUISE HOBBS Bleeding and wheezing, she is shoved down the porch steps in a heap, the door slamming shut behind her. Me and Will rush to DYING LOUISE HOBBS. Her alabaster skin in sharp contrast to the crimson pouring out of it. Multiple wounds puncture her torso and arms. She grasps haltingly for Us, streaking Me and Him with her blood. Her cold hand clutches My wrist as her body spasms. She's already gone and Will knows this and I know this. He pries her slick, red fingers from My wrist, trying not to see the last flickers of pain and fear exiting her face.

Will smashes into the door with everything he's got. It's hard to say whether the sickening crack was from his shoulder or the its wood frame. He gives it a well-placed kick, and another, splintering it little-by-little until he and I can stumble INSIDE.  Hannibal strolls casually up the walk, barely glancing at the lifeless body of Louise Hobbs stepping deliberately over it. He pauses in the broken doorway, listening closely. The wild-eyed contrast to Dr. Lector, Will and I work our way from room to room, guns first. Adrenaline allows Us to ignore the splatters of blood defacing the walls and floors. "Garret Jacob Hobbs? F.B.I." I yell pointing my gun Me and Will stop cold at the sight before us as we move  into the kitchen Garrett Jacob Hobbs behind his DAUGHTER, ABIGAIL, slashing at her throat. The wide-eyed girl has her weight against him, chin tucked down, gasping for air. TIME SLOWS TO A CRAWL as the SOUND YIELDS to the AMBIENT NOISE of My circulatory system. Will raises his pistol. BLAM. BLAM. BLAM. He fires into Hobbs's exposed upper chest, one after another. Hobbs doesn't go down. I drop to my knees and go to help Abigail, putting pressure on the wound. Will keeps shooting. BLAM. BLAM. With one last deep cut, Hobbs finally falls. Hannibal steps into the kitchen, his inscrutable expression suddenly registering genuine pity and regret as he sees ABIGAIL HOBBS Her struggle to breath underscored by the WHEEZE of air through her slashed wind-pipe. I apply pressure to the wounds, scooping Abigail onto My lap. Will now beside me trying to help me with abigail looks up to see: GARRET JACOB HOBBS He hisses at Will Graham through dying, jagged breath. "See? See?" he whispers, Will's eyes are glazed. He's shutting down. Behind him: Hannibal moves swiftly to Abigail, addressing her wounds as she stares at her dying father even as her own life ebbs. I gently raise her glassy eyes to My own as Hannibal works. Will doesn't look away. And neither do I.

HOSPITAL - PATIENT ROOM - NEXT MORNING -

Will enters to find Abigail Hobbs integrated into an elaborate weave of life-saving technology. sleeping in a chair next to her bed is HANNIBAL LECTER. and in another Y/n. us both holding one of her hands, offering a tiny comfort. Will Graham quietly sits in the empty chair next to Y/n watching their unconscious care for the girl they all saved.

[cultofdixon]

Take Your Time

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • People are assholes and go for something that you’ve had your whole life when it comes to making you feel small. But thank god he’s not one of them • ANGST/SFW • TW: Insecurities / Bullying

Requested by: Anon

Alexandria

New place, new people

Same type of assholes, but not all of them at least.

Except when your biggest insecurity is a permanent part of your life.

The entire interview Y/N tried her best not to answer the questions Deanna was asking in full or she’d find herself struggling. Deanna was nice and patient but Y/N couldn’t help but get the feeling that this could’ve gone faster. She’s wasting her time. More around those lines.

Daryl looked up from his hands when he heard the door open and shut, only to notice Y/N saddened expression but when she noticed his piercing blue orbs looking at her she gave him a small smile.

“Was she mean?”

“No, n-not really” Y/N shrugs bringing herself to sit beside him while Glenn entered after her. “S-She made me n-nervous”

“I can see that” Daryl stated the first thing on his mind and felt as if he said something wrong. “Uh. Well. She makes me nervous…too…”

That soft quiet laugh of hers escaped her lips when the archer scrambled but listening to such was music to his ears.

As the group was being lead to the two houses they were provided until further inspection on the group, even if 90% of their weapons were turned into the pantry. So they can’t do any harm…for the most part. Y/N felt a tad uncomfortable which brought her to look around their surroundings and found one of Deanna’s sons that she brought up during her interview staring right at her. She lingered toward the back of her group watching the son approach her as she felt incredibly small compared to the tall individual.

“See your group is finally settling into their new digs” He smiles, as his appearance seemed friendly but Y/N’s anxiety got the best of her thinking something might happen. Guess you tend to feel that way after once thinking friendly people with a new community weren’t going to turn into cannibals.

“Yeah” Y/N shyly states watching the man’s shoulders relax.

“My name is Aiden. What’s a beautiful woman like yourself named? Besides possibly Angel” his flirting could use some work.

“Y/N”

“Do you only answer in short one worded phrases?” He laughs a bit as Y/N didn’t really want to answer him in full sentences if she had to.

“Y-You make me r-really n-nervous” Y/N’s neutral expression turned into a frown and even more anxious demeanor. “L-Like your mother”

Aiden bites his tongue when listening to her speak as he kept a smile on his face for more reasons than to look friendly to the new comer.

“Well. Sorry about that, hope to see you at the party”

“P-Party? Wow. I-It’s really l-l-like the old world”

“Mhm” Aiden did his best to contain it right then and there but left before he could crack.

A crack that turned into out roar of laughter at the party Carol convinced Y/N to go.

Arriving was the easy part to this party. All the strangers locking onto the new comers, especially Y/N, only made her want to leave. But Carol stopped her the first two times she tried to leave. Her wandering gaze was looking for a certain someone but ultimately lead to disappointment when he never came to view at that party.

“Y/N!”

The unfamiliar but familiar enough voice brought Y/N out of her thoughts watching Aiden wave her over to the small group of only new people. When she got closer, Aiden wrapped his arm around her shoulders resulting in her giving a “help me” look to Carol and Rick. Carol only gave her a thumbs up before turning back to Rick.

“If she gets buddy buddy with the sons, we might be able to persuade if needed”

Rick was going to respond but he watches from the corner of his eye Y/N blow up and shove Aiden off of her. He brought his full attention to the scene about to walk over to check on her but all that happened next was the group of Alexandrians laughing and Y/N storming out of the party.

“Take your words back, Carol” Rick states as Carol frowns watching Y/N exit the house. Before she even thought about going after her to check on her, and know who she has to beat up. But Maggie quickly noticed her storm out and went to check on her.

When Maggie returned with no Y/N, Glenn gave her a worried look as she brought herself close.

“She’s fine”

“She say what happen?”

“Yeah but that’s her business. I’ll check on’er again before lights out” Maggie wrapped her arm around her husband looking in Aiden’s direction before back at Glenn. “I don’t trust him, Glenn. Keep an eye out alright?” She whispers to Glenn who subtly turn to who she’s referring to before nodding and kissing her forehead.

The next morning came and Daryl was making his way to Aaron’s garage when he spotted Y/N sitting alone at the gazebo drawing away in a hard cover sketchbook she found in Carol’s house. Daryl remembers the one she lost in the prison and how she’d draw every chance she got after chores and runs she went on. But that wasn’t the only thing he focused on, he couldn’t help but notice the change in atmosphere as he drew closer.

“Mornin’”

His voice startled her at first but she relaxed once she saw who it was.

“M-Morning” Y/N replies quieter than her usual and her smile when Daryl first approached her had faded.

Daryl decided to sit with her a moment ignoring his bubbling feelings because something was off with her. So he wasn’t going to leave her.

“Aaron’s got this bike frame in his garage…you don’t gotta help me but you wanna just. Hang out?” His hint of a smile peeked out when hers returned with a nod. “Alright, cmon”

The two did their own thing in silence, it wasn’t awkward but Daryl couldn’t help his anxious feeling when Y/N wouldn’t talk. She’s usually very talkative with him…

________

“Hey D” Y/N smiles kneeling beside Daryl while he worked on his bike in the court yard of the prison. “Find the p-piece you needed?”

“Mhm. I could use an extra set of hands handing me tools if yea don’t mind”

“Nope! H-Happy to help” She smiles shuffling to get comfortable sitting on the floor while going through the tool box they found in maintenance.

After handing Daryl a few tools here and there, Y/N decided how was the time.

“Can I ask yea s-something?”

“Shoot” Daryl slid out from under to sit up and wipe off the grime on his hands with a his rag.

“Do yea t-think you can help m-me learn how t-to shoot a bow?” Y/N felt a bit off given how bad her stutter can get when she was anxious. But Daryl didn’t show any signs of annoyance or anything. He likes the girl, he doesn’t want to ever make her feel bad.

“Yea found one?”

“Glenn did. J-Just thought..”

“If yea like…I mean if yea ain’t busy later…we can go out and shoot. I’m more than happy to teach yea” Daryl felt himself smile more than his usual twitch of a smile as he couldn’t help the giddiness he felt when she lit up.

“Really?” She smiles even brighter as he nods confirming such. “Ah! You’re amazing D”

________

What he’d do to see that smile of hers

Daryl brought himself from under the bike looking over to Y/N seeing her slow her drawing and an uneasy feeling builds in his chest.

“Hey, mind handing me tools when I need’em? Listen back at the prison?”

“S-Su-…Yeah” Y/N frowns setting her sketchbook down on the work bench before bringing herself to sit on the ground beside him with the tool box in front of her.

Working in silence for a few hours only made the archer worry for the girl even more. He was getting impatient with not knowing what could be wrong, hell it could be nothing. It’s never nothing, what is he thinking?

“I…have the n-night w-w-…watch” Y/N felt her body tense when she struggled to get that out as she puts away the tools Daryl wasn’t using anymore watching him help her. “W-Wh…”

“I’ll walk yea…if yea don’t mind”

He didn’t receive a no but still kept a respectable distance in case she wasn’t entirely comfortable. But Y/N felt safer with Daryl.

As the two made their way toward the front gates, it was Aiden coming off his shift and Daryl knew then that something happened with the eldest son given Y/N immediately hid behind the archer.

“Sup Dixon”

“Hey” Daryl glares a bit but given the time of night, Aiden couldn’t really tell. But he did know Y/N was there.

“Yknow you’re a big dude. But not big enough to hide her.” Aiden scoffs watching Y/N immediately book for the watch tower making the man laugh a bit. “How did you handle that for so long?”

“What yea mean?” Daryl growls watching the man defensively hold his hands up backing up slightly.

“I think you know what I mean. I don’t understand why any of yea kept her around when she can’t get a full sentence out of that broken record of a voice box she’s got”

Without another thought, Daryl’s fist met Aiden’s jaw and that was the end of that conversation. He’ll hear about it from Deanna later but he has his priorities in the moment.

________

No one thought anyone could break Daryl’s hard exterior, but whenever he was around Y/N? The man man was puddy in her hands.

“You’re gonna want to lower your aim. Be eye level” Daryl helped Y/N adjust her aim as she instinctively adjusted her stance before drawing the arrow back.

When she landed the shot, Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement as she screams happily startling Daryl a bit but even he couldn’t help his own excitement.

“Nice shot”

“I-I-I can’t b-believe I—-Ah” Y/N stopped herself abruptly feeling her face flush from embarrassment. “S-Sorry”

“For what?”

“Uhm. My s-stutter”

“Why would yea apologize for that?” Daryl looks at her confused watching her shrug with a bit of a pout. “Hey. Don’t worry about it, sunshine. I wanna hear everythin’ yea gotta say”

Y/N smiles happily when he said that.

________

Part of her wishes they were back in that moment

Daryl quietly enters the watch tower listening to the sobs coming from Y/N as he instantly brought himself to kneel in front of her resting his hands on her knees.

“Y/N, what’d he do to yea? Do I need to do more than just punch’em?”

“Y-Y-You…p-…” Y/N stopped trying to talk as she hid her face in her hands. Daryl wasn’t having it as he carefully brought his hands to hold her face making her hands go to hold his wrists watching her sob.

“Hey…hey hey” Daryl frowns wiping away the tears that fell. “Cmon. It’s just me. I’m here…what did he do?”

“A-At the…” Y/N tried to stop again but Daryl softly shushes to try and calm her enough to stop her crying.

“The party? Is that what yer trying—“ He watches her nod while he continued to take care of the ongoing tears. “What happened at the party?”

“H-He…he was m-m…mocking m-m-me” She cried. “a-and called m-me a f-f-freak in front of o-others”

Oh he’s going to kill this guy Daryl frowns sensing there was more to this, watching her sniffling lessen and the tears slowly stop. “What else, sunshine?”

________

“S-Stop it!” Y/N snaps at Aiden who couldn’t help the laugh to escape his lips.

“M-M-Make me” He smirks getting a laugh out of his brother, Spencer and their friends at the community watching Y/N’s face get heated.

“Y-Y-You’re a f-fucking b-bitch!” She snaps shoving the man. “N-No one l-likes a f-fucking bully”

That was met with silence before an out roar of laughter between the group as Y/N had enough of being there. She shoved Aiden out of her way so that she can leave the party.

________

Yeah. He’s gonna fucking get it Daryl did his best to contain his anger in that moment as he moved his hands sitting on the ground before bringing his arms around Y/N pulling her close to his person.

The archer held her the entirety of her shift, nothing exciting was going to happen that night anyway.

Daryl kept her close for as long as she needed, even on the walk back to Rick’s place where they both had a room in. He stopped at the steps leading to the house to check her once more before they entered.

“You…wanna spend the night with me? I uh. Don’t want yea to be alone tonight”

“Y-You don’t mind?”

“I never mind when it’s yea, sunshine” Daryl gave her a shy smile watching hers finally return after the days without it. The two entered the house together and went to spend the night in Daryl’s.

•

Daryl made his way to Aaron’s garage alone the next morning seeing Aiden on his walk over to the house.

“Hey! You were a fucking dick last night for pu—-“ Aiden was suddenly pushed into the bush in front of the nearby house by Daryl who took out a cigarette after doing such. “WHAT THE FUCK!”

“Sorry, spasms” Daryl chuckles lighting the cig and returning on his way to his bike.

[arahusk]

Don't Question a Good Thing, Keep Playing That Jazz Characters/Pairing: Alastor/Husk, Niffty Words: 5,892 Ao3: [here] For @radiotrioweek! The trio go out to a jazz lounge. Chaos ensues.

-

Hands in his pockets, Husk tried to watch where he stepped. Bits of broken glass, a few rusty nails, and old cigarette butts littered the sidewalk, but he swerved around them almost in reflex. He didn’t think such a low run area would be where Alastor would spend his time. Then again, his boss thought feasting on carcasses was high-dining.

But he shouldn’t have worried. Niffty was doing a bang-up job at being the sweeper for tonight.

“Clean, clean, clean! Watch your toes!” She hummed as she got out her broom from one of her many hidden pockets and swept away the glass, the cigarettes, and even some severed fingers (Husk won’t ask about that) from the pathway with fast-paced energy. She was kind enough to do it for Husk and his bare feet, but he knew who she really did it for.

“A jazz lounge all the way here?” Husk asked his boss. He shook his head. “I’ve been around this area before. This place is a dump.”

With Niffty more or less in the lead, Husk was left walking just slightly behind Alastor. His boss seemed to be in a good mood, more or less. But after recently teaming up with the Princess of Hell, Husk supposed it would make anyone feel a little like they were on cloud nine.

Especially so soon after one appeared from their seven-year stint from who knows where.

“Husker, if you know of any good spots for a good wind down, I’d be delighted to hear it!” A little flourish of a twirl with his cane, and once they turned a corner passed an abandoned liquor store, Husk was met with a nondescript door, wedged into the concrete wall, as if the stone were ready to smash it apart. “But you should know that the best spots are always hidden.”

Husk rolled his eyes. “I remember the speakeasies, but prohibition days are a very old memory for me.”

Niffty sweeped and even started mopping, both cleaning tools in each hand, until she bumped against the door. Her eye widened, along with her grin. “Ooo, is there a big mess past here?”

Alastor chuckled, giving the girl a pat on her head. “Perhaps once we’re through with it!”

Husk already had a feeling how this whole outing was about to go.

The sky was a deep red, giving the entire area a gloomy atmosphere reminiscent of old horror films Husk just barely recalled, where only demonic rats with multiple eyes skittered about the ground. Niffty would have pounced for them were it not for Alastor quickly gathering her by the scruff of her neck and promptly putting her down by his side. In the same motion, he used his other hand which held his cane to knock on the door.

A razor-thin eyehole slid open, and with it, a razor-thin glowing eye appeared, pupil dilated so greatly it was like an ink stroke over yellow. “Hey, password? You got it?”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary.” Alastor checked over his nails as if they hadn’t been soaking in blood earlier that day. “I’m an old friend of the proprietor! Why, the slugger has been asking for my patronage to get his lounge going! How’s his wife doing by the way? Last I heard, it’s been a bit of a swing and a miss! But I don’t know what he expected from marrying a gal from Cannibal Town. Decapitation is all the rage there these days!”

The filtered laughter played around him, sounding even more eerie with the alleyway acoustics. The eye behind the door blinked several times.

“... That’s not the password.”

“Of course not! I was just making a little gab! Not to your taste?”

“Listen, freak. No password, no entry! Now go away and take your—” A quick glancing around before they finally found Niffty smiling right beside Alastor. “Your wife and your—” Another glance that then settled on Husk. “...Wait, don’t I know you?”

Husk did a quick catalogue in his mind and hoped to fuck this wasn’t another clown he owed an IOU to. “No.”

“Ha!” Alastor interrupted like a static burst through the speakers. “Very amusing, riveting, actually. But you see…”

Instant darkness, one that only left Husk and Niffty themselves visible, while a mass of writing shadows hovered over the eyehole, where that eye was now so wide it covered the entire opening. Tendrils stabbed right through the wood, and corrupted feed made Husk’s ears lean back in irritation.

“You should have just opened the door.”

While Niffty watched in awe, Husk pressed two fingers near the bridge of his nose. “This again now…?”

The sinner screeched from behind the door and, whether it was instinct or just an odd loyalty to his job, slammed shut the eyehole before what Husk hoped meant the guy was running off. Alastor’s tendrils ripped the door right off the hinges, taking a few stone blocks with it, all while the feedback continued to blare. The door was then tossed like a banana peel behind them, which was then accompanied by what sounded like a highway accident from the nearby road.

With the entrance effectively wrecked, the sinner was cowering to the side of the little room he was in. His own stubs that were supposed to be horns looked weak compared to the array of antlers that Alastor now carried on his head. 

“Sorry, chum, but I am in a bit of a rush. You’ve also been quite rude to me and my entourage.” A little creak of his neck to the side, and Alastor swerved past the entrance, limbs elongating, antlers stretching further, a sleep paralysis demon brought to life. “And I haven’t had dinner yet.”

With a whimper, the sinner demon gestured towards the stairs near the back of the room. “The club is there! Just don’t eat me! I didn’t know you were the Radio Demon, okay!?”

And just as quickly, the antlers receded, and Alastor was cracking his neck again a bit to look down at the sinner with his professional grin. “Oh, silly me. Did I forget to introduce myself? I assure you, that was a bit of a faux pas on my part. Thank you for being quite understanding!”

Tucking his cane under his arm, Alastor waved to both Husk and Niffty who still stood outside. “Come on! It’s getting close to the hour!”

“Are we going to see a show!?” Niffty asked in delight, even as her eye roved toward the opening, probably getting an urge to fix it somehow. Husk hesitated. His wings felt iffy, and the sirens in the distance for the vehicular manslaughter Alastor had mindlessly caused was distracting him. But there was no point in remaining alone, so he followed quickly after. He avoided eyes with the sinner who still cowered, skin so pale it almost seemed that his boss had already sucked the life right out of him.

As they all walked downstairs, a gentle shaking through the floor, Husk had to ask his boss then. “Were you really going to eat him if he didn’t open up? Just some random low life? Thought you had higher tastes than that.”

At least when Mimzy isn’t bringing trash to your door for you to clean up.

Alastor chuckled, gazing at Husk from the corner of his eyes. “A little snack now and then does me well, you know.” He moved the cane from his arm, holding the handle in both hands. The vibration felt around them was to a beat, one that Alastor hummed to.

Husk didn’t press further, but the whole thing made him uneasy.

When they eventually made it to another set of doors at the bottom of the stairs, a double-set that looked like it would open inward, it was surprisingly devoid of any guards or bouncers whatsoever. It was also as unassuming as the one above ground, but without being broken to pieces—yet. 

Before Husk could even take another step towards it, Alastor whipped out his cane to block his path, inadvertently smacking it just against Husk’s ribs.

“Now, hold on a moment, my friend!”

“Fucking hell that hurt!” Husk pressed a hand against his chest, hissing between his teeth. “What is it?!”

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how these things go! Tonight calls for a bit of class. We need to look the part, after all!”

Niffty was already gasping with glee, her little feet stamping the floor as she raised her head up to Alastor. “Ooo, do we get to dress fancy!? Doll me up, Sir!”

“Of course, Niffty. I made sure I came prepared for the both of you!” And with that, Alastor gave a sharp snap of his fingers, sounding as loud as a gunshot within the small enclosed space they were in.

Husk expected nothing much to happen besides a quick color change of his cuffs. The bare minimum, as always. Not like Husk really wanted to bother with such things anymore. He watched the green wisp of magic snake around him, flinching from it slightly. He was always reminded of poison, something that would one day enter his veins and finally snap away at his afterlife.

Niffty was his polar opposite, holding up her hands as she made grabbing motions at the wispy light shouting, “Mine! Mine!” She tried to catch it between her palms like it was a living thing, as if she wanted to squeeze it tight between her fingers. Maybe Alastor noticed, and let the light play around her hands and hair before finally getting to work on her clothes.

Her dress started to billow as the green light changed her wardrobe on the spot. Her maid’s skirt thinned to a flowing red dress, one with small rhinestones embedded in the hem. She was even given accessories such as a fur scarf that nearly enveloped her shoulders, and her head topped with a familiar flapper-style hat, complete with a black feather to adorn it. Of course, Alastor’s taste was predictable.

Niffty was already laughing giddily, chewing at her fur scarf, kneading it between sharp teeth. If she was saying thank you, it was muffled between the scarf and her laughter.

Husk had been so distracted by Niffty’s antics that he barely noticed when his own wardrobe change was done until Alastor’s announcement. “And that takes care of that, Husker! Why, now you’re truly the cat’s meow!”

He was about ready to land a punch at Alastor’s grinning face, chained or not, until when he raised his arm, he noticed it wasn’t just a simple color change.

There was a suit sleeve, clean pressed, and shiny cufflinks near his wrist. He looked down at himself, and saw the suit in full, echoing that of his casino days. His suspender straps were hooked over a buttoned-up shirt, connected to black pants that were made from silk. He wasn’t even bare foot anymore, now wearing expensive leather shoes, looking as if they were spit shined clean.

He was probably speechless for too long, because Niffty scrambled up to him, her eye widening and reflecting the motes of green light that hovered around him still. “Whoa!” She pointed at him like he’d grown a second head. “Fancy cat!”

“Why you looking at me like it’s weird?!”

“Because it is!”

“Now, now, we can all gawk at ourselves later! Time to get this show on the road!” 

Alastor was already motioning them both with his cane, and it was then Husk noted Alastor’s own outfit. No matter what, the Radio Demon seemed to prefer his clothes to be somewhat tattered, yet act like it was all expertly tailored. His suit was still a stupidly bright red, though it lost the pinstripes, and had stitches embedded into the spaces around his shoulders. He even cemented his new outfit with a top hat, also sporting those same suspicious stitches, which already made Husk’s chest feel weird just thinking about it.

Once realizing that… he had to check, and so a quick glance up at his own head confirmed it. He made sure to give Alastor the deepest frown, snazzy suit or no. “You’re still making me wear the hat?”

Alastor tipped his own to Husk, grin climbing even higher across his cheeks. “Of course! Looks good on you. And now we can be twinsies!”

“Don’t you say twinsies ever again.”

“Threesies! Look!” Niffty was hopping up and down, pointing to her own. Her hopping got so manic that she practically leapt on Alastor’s shoulders, who held her up with one hand, barely registering the action. She might as well have been an extension of himself. “I love matching clothes with the bad boys…”

Husk sighed. “Fine. So that means whatever we’re here for is more than just beating up heads, is it?” He didn’t think Alastor would make them play dress-up if they were going to ruin it a few minutes later.

Alastor chuckled, but there was that curious glint in his eyes, a little blip in the radio filter that coated every syllable. “My, Husker. Can you not believe that I would just take you both for a night on the town? Especially after all your splendid work as the hotel staff!”

“No,” Husk immediately answered. “Not when I fall asleep at the bar for half the day and Niffty here is getting herself stuck in the vents while letting the roaches roam free.”

“I’m trying!” Niffty countered. “I have a good plan next time! I’m going to bait them with their children… then they’ll know suffering…”

“...Yeah, so, proving my point. We’re fucking shit at our jobs.” Husk stuck his hands in his pockets, though he was careful not to slouch like the usual. It was like being in a suit brought back memories of the high life for him. “So what’s your angle?”

And, for a moment, he was almost sure that Alastor would tell him just then. The smile lost its smugness for a moment, the eyes widening a little to show that he was considering…

Then, Alastor gave another laugh, high-pitched and raucous as he started to walk for the doors. “Husker, you and that little frowny face of yours! Geez! Just live a little! Ha ha!”  

As if to finalize it, Alastor went ahead and slapped Husk right across his backside as he passed him by.

Husk yowled and rounded at the demon. “Wh-what are you—WHAT?!”

“Oh come on, now. Don't be such a prude!”

“Prude boy!” Niffty giggled, then poked at Husk’s cheek. She suddenly spoke calmly, with barely concealed glee. “I can fix that for you.”

Husk delicately pushed the maniacal woman’s hand away, watching for a sudden needle to sprout out from her fingers. “You know what, I’m good.”

Once the doors finally opened, Husk was transported to a world of jazzy sound and bright colors. It was almost surreal just how it all crashed into him once they entered the lounge, like a tidal wave of saxophone crescendos and upbeat giggling, along with glasses clinking against each other while the alcohol spilled over. Demons from all around the Pride Ring were here, including hellborns that mingled around sinners with barely a thought, but it was still a sinner demon’s haven all the same. Husk was losing count of just how many different-shaped heads he was seeing, and the amount of eyes or mouths were rare;y the same between each head either.

There was a bar that put his own to shame, and it helped that it didn’t have any grotesque bones and antlers as part of its decor. An array of colorful bottles and glasses lined the shelves, and a quick glance at their labels showed Husk that this was the exceedingly rich stuff—maybe even illegal. Half of these vintages were impossible to get through any normal means, and he was sure whoever managed this place had a sin list a mile long to even get such goods. But his focus on the bar made him almost miss the live stage up front, spotlights focused on a soft jazz band, with trumpets and saxophones, cellos and trumpets, and a singer that breathed fire with every verse they sang, well, it made for quite a performance.

Honestly, a lot of it reminded him of his casino, on one of its good nights. And he had a lot of good nights back in those days.

“Ah, look! Our reserved table is already set up for us! Such good service!”

Husk looked to where Alastor pointed with his cane—a table that was topped over with several drinks, and placed near a half-seat plush couch, made of azure satin. There were several demons seated at that table, immersed in conversation and not knowing what would happen next.

Yeah, this is just routine, Husk thought.

When the three got close, it was only then those demons—two of them being loan sharks, and a third looking to be an eel-like imp from the watery ring that was Envy—finally noticed them at all. “The fuck you bozos want?” spoke one of the sharks, the right side of his hammerhead hitting his partner when he sharply turned.

“Listen, kid. It’ll be easier if you just moved.” Husk flipped a coin between his claws, making sure to show off the little skull engraved on one of its faces. Even down from his prime, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. “Our little lady ain’t so patient.”

Niffty slammed both of her hands on the table, jostling the drinks. She was already gathering some of them in an unmarked bag, and all while holding a nasty-looking needle between her teeth. “It’s time for a little clean up!”

Still, even with their threats, Husk was sure it was Alastor’s menacing aura behind them, along with the drone of his static and the shadows lengthening across the floors in subtle but discomforting ways that really sealed the deal there.

These demons were at least smarter than the one upstairs, and quickly lifted up from their seats. The hammerhead even made sure to sweep away any crumbs from their appetizers off the plush cushions. “It-It’s on us! We don’t want no trouble!”

“Now that’s a good man!” Alastor said with an optimistic air. But the static droning hadn’t stopped. It seemed to keep going until Husk had to flatten his ears just to take off the pressure.

The demons hightailed it out of there and disappeared into the crowd. And there was their table, all freshly cleaned and ready for them.

“Maybe one of these days you should just actually reserve a fucking table?” Husk made sure to let Alastor seat himself first, right in the middle of that couch. Niffty popped to his left after cleaning up the floor and scrubbing off the stuck gum from underneath the table. “Not like they wouldn’t just do that for you anyway.”

“Now, Husker. Where would the fun be in that?” He swept his arm to the seat next to him, which made Husk annoyed but still took that empty seat. “It’s refreshing to see your skills in action! It reminds me why I hired you.”

“Hired me? That’s what you call it?” Husk groaned and rolled his eyes. He flagged down a waitress immediately. “I need a fucking drink to deal with you.”

“Can I get mine with bleach?” Niffty asked with a waving hand. “I need to scrub these seats! They’re filthy!”

“If our spending money allows it, sure!”

“Can you both just not?”

--

Then again, maybe Husk underestimated just how refreshing a night out would be like.

The jazz lounge didn’t have games for him to play, and Hell would freeze over before he’d try and play cards with his party, even if it was just for a single cornchip. But a couple of high-end drinks and a fresh cigar that Alastor had somehow included in his suit pockets sweetened the night much more than he anticipated. 

Niffty got incredibly wasted though, which made sense for someone less than two feet tall. And yet…

“Niff, are you really on your second cocktail and already hammered?”

With how she could barely keep her head from lolling to the side, that was clearly a yes. She giggled and hiccuped, her hat staying firmly on her head no matter her constant motions (although she’d lost that feather that was attached to it). She was also wrapping her fur scarf completely around herself until she was basically entangling herself. 

Of course, Alastor was doing nothing to help, seemingly amused with her antics while he barely sipped at his glass of rye. In fact, he was taking such miniscule sips that Husk wondered if the guy was drinking even a thumbtack’s worth of it.

Husk felt like a babysitter when he stopped Niffty from falling off her seat, cradling her in one palm. “Boss, not that I don’t mind having a night out, but you’ve just been sitting there and saying nothing for the past hour.”

“Hm?” Alastor gave Husk a sideways glance. He had been focused on something Husk just wasn’t seeing apparently, and it had to be more than just the jazz performance that was up there. “Ha! You certainly like to question a good thing!”

Code for how he should keep his yap shut. Husk growled slightly, but he still had another cigar to take the edge off, one he got a chance to light it.

“Fine, fine. But you’re barely even paying attention to Niff here.”

Who was very much still leaning against his hand, now poking at his fingers with her own. “Hehe, I like it when they’re sharp.”

Husk was currently trying to find his lighter, his cigar held between his teeth, until a small spark of flame appeared right in front of his face. He was annoyed at himself for flinching, and seeing Alastor grinning at him while holding that flame in his palm didn’t exactly make him feel better.

That same fire lit up his cigar, and it was almost by reflex for Husk to take a drag before letting the smoke leave through the spaces of his gritted teeth.

Alastor continued to smile, and somehow, from this angle with the soft lighting of the lounge and the music playing in the background, it looked even sharper than before. “It’s sometimes good to be reminded of who you used to be.”

Husk ignored the heat felt underneath his fur, and leaned back enough to get more breathing space once again. “You still know how to give the worst compliments ever!”

“Ha! Even after a reward, you still manage to act like a grumpy kitty.”

Now Alastor was laughing and it was like whatever he had been focusing on, or was on the lookout for, had been completely forgotten. Too busy reveling in Husk’s moods, and seeing her boss laugh, Niffty joined him, her high-pitched tones meshing so well with Alastor’s soft tenor.

No matter what, Husk felt like the butt of a joke that Alastor had already been writing up weeks ago.

“Can you just lay off and do something about Niff here? Any more drinks and she’s gonna blackout.”

“Well, you’re a professional in that department so I’m sure she’ll have a lot to learn from you!” Alastor answered with another snicker, now letting a fingertip curl around the edge of Husk’s ear. Another flinch. Was it his imagination, or was Alastor moving closer to him on the seat?

“Listen, you bastard—”

“Role call!” Niffty shouted suddenly, her little drunken brain finally latching onto the nickname Husk had said a minute ago. She then scrambled up Husk’s arm and went to perch herself right on top of one of his wings, kicking her feet. “I need one of your feathers to replace the one in my hat!”

“At least let me finish my drink!” Husk was looking forlornly at his whiskey glass on the table, half-filled, ice cubes already melting fast. Fending the girl off was already taking his energy.

And all the while, Alastor was leaning his head on his hand, watching both of his minions struggle with each other, even as a few eyes turned to hear what the commotion was about. No surprise, for the Radio Demon loved entertainment in so many ways.

Except, he heard that tell-tale blip of static right next to him. Sharp and intriguing. It even cut through the live jazz, engulfing the sound until it was all Husk was hearing. 

And when Husk turned, he saw Alastor looking towards the stage, his eyes a deep red, the shape of dials cranked all the way to the right. The static blipped again, filled with electricity.

Whatever he was seeing, Husk didn’t get a chance to really see for himself. He didn’t even get a chance to look at the stage, because, before he could even know what the fuck was happening, he soon found himself upended—and what that meant was that Alastor was standing up, and was holding Husk by the waist and carrying him over his shoulder.

Hefted up like some sack of grain, Husk was fidgeting, and his wings flapping in surprise. “What the—? Al, are you fucking drunk?! Let go!”

“No, I’m not, my good friend. But you certainly are!” With another quick snap, Husk’s forgotten whiskey glass was back in his hand. “Get a good nip of the dog for what we’ll be doing next!”

“Oo, me! Pick me up too!” Niffty was reaching up her arms towards Alastor, looking ready to grab at the hem of his suit if she didn’t get her way. She was standing up on the table to get more reach.

Alastor had no hesitation. He picked up Niffty by the scruff of her dress, her high heels clicking against each other as she wiggled her legs. It was almost a bit adorable were it not for the fact that she was actively salivating, her own spit getting onto that fur scarf of hers.

It was all in one motion, the way Alastor seemed to just step over most of the crowd that were in the lounge. It was helped by those shadow tendrils of his as they embedded themselves into the floors and walls, knocking aside a few customers’ drinks in his travel. Husk felt like he was being pulled along in a parachute, the wind hitting his face as they were propelled towards the stage and its line-up of wide-eyed, confused performers.

But, for all that was worth, they acted pretty quickly in getting away. Like those other demons, they knew when to leave once the Radio Demon was in sight.

Husk was not-so-gently dumped onto the stage, and it was only by his stupid feline body that he landed on his feet and managed to not spill his drink, which was still clutched in his claws. Alastor was, of course, much more courteous to Niffty, even as she got saliva all over his shoes. It was like a waterfall had originated in her maw, which only slowed down once she was plopped gently near the center of the stage.

“And to think, we almost missed our schedule!” Alastor whirled his cane as he stepped across the stage to a bunch of confused, half-drunk eyes. “But good ol’ Jimmy wouldn’t go over our act on purpose! Isn’t that right, Jimmy?” 

He snapped his fingers once more, and a spotlight shone right over one particular demon in the crowd, who had been busy sidling up next to a pretty thing whose long blonde hair was trailing near the floor and her dress tighter than most corsets. Jimmy, in comparison, wasn’t much of a looker himself.

But Husk recognized him all the same. Another Overlord, but one of those small-time ones. Barely worth a dot on the map, and only owned a few territories, but it was probably this jazz lounge more or less, which definitely earned the guy some cash. Maybe even some souls while he was at it.

The demon, looking partly zombified as his form, was sweating bullets. “A-Alastor!? You, uh… when did you get here?”

But Alastor simply ignored him, back to whirling his cane as another spotlight hovered over him. “Now that everything’s back in order, we can show you folks a good show! Husker! Look alive!”

The saxophone that appeared in Husk’s arms was almost half-expected. He held it up with little issue in one hand, while he was still holding onto the whiskey glass in another. Immediately, he downed the whiskey in one gulp. 

Niffty, meanwhile, was looking out over the crowd, her eye very wide and her pupil very dilated. She was no longer gushing out saliva, but she did seem to forget how to breathe. That didn’t stop Alastor from manifesting a little microphone stand for her, one suited for precisely her height, and of course in the popular style of the 30’s.

“After all the money and time I gave to dear old Jimmy to create this wonderful establishment, I thought it would be nice to celebrate it!” Alastor gave a final fingersnap to have a grand piano poof into existence, its ivory keys looking as bleached as the bones he’d pick clean. “Especially after all the loans and promises he made, and all the dealings made in secret, and all the little loopholes he believes himself to be so cunning and slick to not get caught in! It’s really been quite something, folks!”

Jimmy looked ready to disintegrate right there and then, because even he must have heard the soft drone of that radio static rise up in treble ever so slightly. 

Trying to cut the Radio Demon out of extra deals, extra money, extra anything—well, Husk saw what happened to those who tried to do so with Alastor, and his boss rarely had mercy for Overlords.

None except for Husk, apparently.

Alastor still looked oddly happy as he sauntered on stage towards his piano. “But we can’t keep the audience waiting!” His cane whisked away into the air, and as he sat down, his fingers were already tapping away at the piano keys. The notes were clear and crisp, and his foot moved against the foot pedals with knowing practice. “Time for our big number!”

There was magic in Alastor’s music, Husk had to guess. It was the only reason why he was lifting up the saxophone and actually thought about going along to melody. And Niffty, just by the sharp sounds of those piano keys, had blinked and was back to grinning again. Bolstered by Alastor’s presence, or maybe forgetting there were a bunch of people, had already picked up on what her boss wanted.

Niffty held the mic to her grinning mouth, took a deep breath—and bellowed out her verse.

“HEY BIG SPENDER!”

Husk nearly did a spit take on his own damn spit valve, but held it together to pull off a song that was not at all what Niffty was singing, not that Alastor gave a thought to it.

This was a revenge outing, and Alastor liked such outings to be messy.

Luckily, Husk was too damn drunk to care. And being drunk didn’t dampen his saxophone playing in the slightest.

“Good looking! So refined!” The spotlight wavered on good ol’ Jimmy, all as big sweat patches appeared in his suit, and half of his face was literally falling off to the floor in gross decay. “Say wouldn’t you like to know what’s going on in my mind?!”

“No,” Jimmy said immediately in a small voice.

Alastor played the piano louder and Husk was already playing catch-up to his frenetic pace. But Husk was in his element; dressed in his old suit, buzzed up by whiskey and the cigar smoke that was still settling on his tongue. Hell, he’d play a few more encores after this if that’s what Alastor wanted.

“Let me get right to the point!” Niffty emphasized her song with a flash of one of her needles, stabbing it towards the audience. A few in the front row had already scattered—and maybe Jimmy would have as well, but a suspicious gathering of shadows had rooted him to his seat, making sure he couldn’t move an inch.

“I don’t pop my cork for every bad boy I see… But I could.” Niffty giggled into the mic, looking ready to snap it to pieces with a wicked bite. She still flourished that needle with dangerous energy.

Jimmy was struggling against his binds, shaking as the singing Niffty seemed to move a bit closer—except she was still on stage, and it was Jimmy who was moving closer, aided by those tendrils that acted as his own personal, nightmarish chauffeur. He floated in the air, held up by those shadows like it was nothing.

“Alastor, I’ll pay you, alright?!” Jimmy was squealing desperately. “Just don’t let this bitch get near me.”

“Tsk, now that isn’t how you speak to a lady. What would your wife think?” Alastor’s voice was crackling, the corruption in it devolving with the static while his piano playing stayed fresh.

“I can show you a good time!” Niffty was now leaning towards Jimmy, holding up her mic as she acted as if it was a serenade. But her unhinged smile and widening eye betrayed every chaotic thought in her head. “Let me show you a good time, bad boy!!”

And if the jazz lounge emptied faster by the second, Niffty certainly didn’t mind, and Husk found himself not caring either. As long as he doesn’t mess up the few drinks left. He should have felt more pissed off that this was not the relaxing outing Alastor had originally promised, but again, there was something in Alastor’s playing, despite Niffty screaming out lyrics that he was sure his boss had never heard before.

Again, there was a magic to Alastor that he still had trouble wrapping his head around, but was drawn to each and every time.

“Hey big spendeeerrr!!” Niffty lambasted the verse so hard that the mic was looping in feedback. Jimmy was clearly suffering, being the closest to rambunctious Niffty. “Hey big spendeerrr!!” She jumped onto one of those shadows, brandishing her needle like it was a weapon—and it absolutely was for her. “Spend a little time with me!”

“No, go away!” There was a change of pitch in Jimmy’s tone, a soft glow from where his eyes should have been, but were instead only sockets. “You crazy fucking bitch!”

The piano notes were then suddenly slammed with a harsh, discordant noise. Alastor placed both hands down, standing up as he slowly turned his neck with a harsh crack. The smile on his face had stretched from ear to ear.

Just like that, Jimmy’s own little power display withered instantly.

“After such a reception to our performance, I insist you come onto my radio show!” Alastor said, elongating, fangs widening, and eyes shining with more red than should be possible. “No exceptions!”

Now, if there was a mess afterwards, the jazz lounge and all its pricey accessories smashed to bits, and Niffty laughing along with Alastor as Jimmy screamed, Husk didn’t notice.

The song he was playing was just too good to stop.

[gothcsz]

𝑻𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉𝒇𝒂𝒓𝒆 / Chapter VIIII.

GIF CREDIT

PAIRING: Javier Peña x Original Female Character

SUMMARY: After months of dancing around their emotions, Javier and Paloma finally address the tension between them head-on.

WORD COUNT: ~9.2k

RATING: 18+ Mature topics such as sex, drugs, murder, the occult, religion, cannibalism and other triggering matters will be explored in this body of work. Minors DNI.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC TAGS: smuttt, bulge riding, dry humping, protected p in v sex, dirty talk, javi being an asshole, angst, crime talk (if it's not accurate don't @ me), descriptions of violence against women, vomit mention, slut shaming(?), detective!javi is very gorgeous ME, other things that I'm probably forgetting.

DISCLAIMER/WARNINGS: The Javier Peña referenced in this body of work is solely based off of the character that appears in Netflix’s Narcos and not the actual person. Very canon divergent and I will tweak things as I see fit to compliment the narrative of this story. While efforts have been made to be accurate in terms of canon timeline, a lot of details will be fictionalized, including the usage of the song(s) that Paloma will perform throughout the story.

A/N: we did it… we did it joe !! javi and OFC finally [REDACTED] !! thank u to everyone who has been keepin up w this foolery so far, it makes my lil heart happy to see engagement < 3 also wanna say that years of watching criminal minds is finally starting to pay off and i rly hope u guys are enjoying the crime aspect of the plot because i'm havin A LOT of fun writing and developing it !! shit is gonna get twisted and intricate so brace yourselves for where we're about to go !!! the smut in this chapter is heavily inspired by touch it by ariana grande so i def recommend giving that a listen bc i feel like it just fits their vibe so well (i may or may not have used some of the lyrics in the dialogue.. oop!) last thing sooo irrelevant but mayor abbott looks like jonathan bailey (bridgerton hive RISE!!) in my head so take that as u will xoxo always feel free to drop any type of feedback/support on this blog or ao3. i'd really appreciate it <3

♰  read on ao3. ♰

♰  playlist | pinterest | series masterlist ♰

As the sun casts its golden rays over the quiet outskirts of town, a grim discovery awaits the two men. The body of Jessica Valdez, the young girl reported missing from their neighboring town, lies lifeless in a shallow ditch. Javier stands beside Sheriff Leighton, their expressions grave as they survey the scene before them.

Reporters and curious onlookers have gathered, drawn by the spectacle of flashing lights and the somber atmosphere. A small group of people whisper amongst themselves, their hushed tones mingling with the distant sound of camera shutters clicking.

Romeo’s authoritative presence looms beside him, a pillar of strength in the face of another tragedy. His eyes narrow as they push through the gathered crowd, commanding respect and order in the chaotic scene.

They duck beneath the yellow crime scene tape, ignoring the questions being hurled at them by the press.

“Are there any indications of a motive for this murder?” 

“Is this connected to the similar incidents in the area recently?”

“Is there anything the public can do to assist with the investigation?”

Javier’s stomach churns with sorrow as he takes in the sight. The body lies face down and sprawled in the dirt. He clenches his jaw, steeling himself against the wave of frustration threatening to overwhelm him.

Another failure on their behalf and all he can think about is the kiss shared between him and Paloma.

“Talk to us, Cecelia.” 

“Well, at first glance: the body is still fairly warm so she was alive a few hours ago. It looks like she was held captive somewhere due to the bruising on her wrists and ankles. There are signs of malnourishment and she has smaller injuries scattered throughout her body. I won’t know more details until I do the autopsy.” The coroner answers before continuing,” Her chest is completely slashed through, just like all the others. Still our guy. Or girl–– you never know nowadays.” 

Javier’s jaw flexes out of exasperation, mirroring the heavy sigh that escapes the sheriff’s lips. The weight of this repeated revelation settles over them like a suffocating blanket, casting a shadow over their efforts to uncover the truth.

Despite their tireless pursuit of justice, they find themselves no closer to catching the culprit or unraveling the mystery shrouding these towns. It’s fucking infuriating. 

Amidst the tangled threads of his personal life, Javier has momentarily lost sight of his purpose for being here. He has been too immersed in his own character transformation and entanglement with Paloma, overlooking the harrowing reality unfolding around him: innocent women continuing to fall victim to brutal, senseless violence.

The gravity of his oversight has a mixture of guilt and despair settling deep within his chest. 

Javier prides himself on his prowess, his ability to navigate the most intricate of cases and weather the toughest of storms. As a seasoned field agent with a string of accolades to his name (some undeserved, others very well deserved), he’s faced down challenges that would make others quiver.

Yet here he stands, feeling utterly impotent in the face of this whodunit in the confines of a sleepy town.

It gnaws at him, this sense of inadequacy, like a persistent itch he can’t scratch. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, a humbling reminder of the unpredictable nature of crime and the limits of his own expertise.

He needs to be better.

“What’s interestin’, though, is this,” She stands, motioning for the two men to follow her and they share a look before wordlessly complying. Cecelia hands them both a pair of latex gloves, instructing them to put them on.

They make it a few feet away from Jessica’s body and that’s when Javi sees it.

“Is that vomit?” 

Cecelia nods, “It is. I’m betting it’s hers. The interestin’ bit isn’t that she vomited–– but the contents. Take a look. Tell me what you see.” 

Javier is the first to kneel with Romeo looking over his shoulder. He eyes the evidence, pushing his aviators to the top of his head, making out the larger chunks in the grossly colored bile.

He can’t discern what it is right away and Cecelia encourages him to use his hands, which has him looking at her ludicrously and muttering how gross this shit is in Spanish before doing as suggested.

Poking his latex clad fingers in the mess, Javi analyzes the contents and that’s when he sees a symbol marked in ink on one of the scraps.

“It’s flesh. Human flesh.” 

Shit. He sees it now, the mark is a tattoo and he quickly barks out an order to have one of the lingering deputies come take pictures of it.

“Son of a bitch is feedin’ people… people. Would explain Nina Thorton’s missin’ leg. What the fuck is goin’ on here?” The sheriff sounds defeated and Javier just remains silent as he mulls over all this new information that’s been revealed.

Kidnapped, held hostage, fed human flesh, murdered, dumped.

All the other victims up until now have only been taken then killed. None of them held captive for long. Not all of them consuming flesh.

But then there’s Nina and her postmortem severed leg.

Fuck, the answer is right there, interwoven in the intricacies and lack of details in the cases. 

No more fucking around, no more helping girls sneak back inside their homes, no more distractions. He has to focus on doing his job.

He will catch who did this, he will prove himself to be qualified to do what he was brought here to do.

Javier remains kneeled and deep in thought as Romeo and Cecelia continue on with their observations. He looks around to study their surroundings, wondering if there is anything else that is right in front of him that he cannot see.

“Three outta five have been brunettes around the same age. I think that’s something worth considering now,” Javier breaks up the conversation betweens the sheriff and coroner, both of them turning to look at him as he stands from his kneeled position and begins to take off the gloves,” Seems like they found their type. There’s got to be a purpose for the consistent victimology.” 

They’ve migrated over to Jessica’s body now, both men doing last minute look overs before she is transported back to her hometown for her parents to identify and for Cecelia to preform the autopsy.

When a deputy comes over to take the last bits of photo evidence, he looks sickly but Javier ignores it. It’s not until her body is turned upright, exposing her mauled chest, that has the younger officer hurling over and throwing up, some of it landing on Romeo.

“God fuckin’ damn it, Andrews, spew that shit elsewhere. Fuck, not only are you contaminatin’ the crime scene but you got it all over my damn pants.” 

The sheriff goes on a tangent, chewing the officer out and threatening to suspend him for two weeks with no pay. It’s harsh, Javier will admit, but he doesn’t say anything, remaining stoic with his arms crossed against his chest as he watches it unfold.

Eventually, everyone trickles out. Even the nosey reporters and townies. Javier wants to stay, walk around the area to see if anything else was left behind. Maybe something was dropped or buried nearby, and while they had assured him that others have already done a thorough search–– he’d feel more comfortable if he did it himself.

“Ya mind stoppin’ by my place so I can change? Kid ruined these.” Romeo’s gruff voice has Javier losing his train of thought, too engrossed in looking out into the vast area of the woods as the sun slowly begins to set. 

Right, they arrived together, driving from the station in Javier’s cruiser.

“Sure.” He replies plainly. His plans for the evening now include getting Romeo situated so that he can come back here and investigate all on his own. He might even drive to Fayette to retrieve the autopsy from Cecelia as soon as she completes it.

With the Leighton home being on the other side of town, this gives the two men time to talk the case over; going over all that they know and all that they’ve discovered. Romeo confides in Javier about feeling inadequate about the way he’s doing his job and, in a turn of events, Javier does the same. In his own way.

The mutual understanding is a relief, though the guilt of his kiss with Paloma is palpable and it makes Javi feel like a fraud.

Across from him is a man who has extended nothing but kindness and trust, offering camaraderie and a sense of belonging. Yet, despite this, Javier found himself drawn to his daughter in a way that was both exhilarating and forbidden.

It feels wrong, achingly so. A bitter realization that despite their mutual longing, their connection can never be fully realized. It’s a harsh wake up call: if he truly wants to better himself, he must shed his bad habit of losing himself in women and distance himself from her.

What a discomforting prospect, the inevitable separation. But he knows it’s the only way forward. He understands that in time, they will both resign themselves to the reality of their infatuation.

It’s a familiar ache, this sense of inevitability that haunts his romantic endeavors like a relentless specter. Javier knows the drill all too well; it’s not his first rodeo in navigating the treacherous terrain of severing emotional ties.

His love life feels like a series of missteps, a cursed labyrinth from which there’s no escape. Despite the initial allure of each new romance, he’s come to anticipate the eventual descent into disappointment. No matter how promising the beginning, the journey always seems to lead to the same desolate destination.

With him hurting them beyond measure.

Fuck the idea of reinventing himself here. He can find peace and monotony anywhere else.

Javier will follow through with his responsibilities, and the second he’s able to peel out of Seminary–– he will, leaving her behind as a bittersweet memory. A beautiful yet unattainable dream that he will carry with him for years to come.

As they pull in to the Leighton residence, he sees the woman that lives in his head perched up on the fence that surrounds the immediate area. Her baggy jeans are hanging low, exposing the sheer fabric of her underwear. She turns as she hears the sound of a car approaching, and her lips pull into a smile once she sees who it is.

Paloma fully expected to wake up the following day filled with regret and plagued by a hangover. The only thing she experienced was the latter, but it had quickly been nursed by a greasy breakfast and some yard work.

Javier had kissed her back, that was enough to feed into her delusions that he does want her. All inhibitions have been dropped, she’s prepared to lay herself out for him–– to tell him that she’s wanted him since the moment they met.

It might seem premature, an impulsive plunge into the uncertainty of his reaction to her feelings, but the tender memory of their shared kiss eclipses all rational thought. She finds herself irresistibly drawn to the possibility of something more, unable to resist the pull of her emotions.

His touch still lingers on her skin. His hands tracing the curves of her body with a hunger that left her breathless. She can still feel the way he had grabbed her ass then gripped onto her hips, pulling her closer to him.

But it was his mouth that left the strongest impression. His tongue had explored the depths of hers, tasting and teasing her with a ferocity that made her feel alive.

In that moment, she had felt desired, cherished, and wanted. It was a feeling that she hadn’t realized she craved so badly until last night. She knew that she would never be able to forget that kiss and the way it had made her feel.

She’s giddy, her excitement bubbling up like fizzy soda, reminiscent of the first time she ever kissed a boy. Except Javier isn’t a boy–– he’s a man. A man whose expertise and skill are a potent aphrodisiac, heightening her arousal to levels she never thought possible.

She’s been hot for him all day, even touched herself to the memory of his soft lips, the tickle of his mustache, against hers then imagining them everywhere else. The mere thought of it is enough to send her heart racing, and she knows that nothing will satisfy her until she has him in her arms again.

Romeo gets out the car, muttering that he’d be right back and Javi opts to stay put. He does not want to speak to her, knowing that the second he gazes into those beautiful brown eyes–– he’d buckle. He needs to build animosity between them; it’s the only way for them to definitively be able to separate from one another.

But she doesn’t make it easy, of course. Because the second her father is inside, she’s practically skipping over to the driver’s side of the cruiser.

“Hello officer. Here to bring me in for all those crimes I committed last night?” She teases as she leans her forearms against the rolled down window, the cowgirl hat perched on her head complimenting her so well.

Javier swallows thickly, taking a lengthy drag of the familiar cigarette between his lips. He can’t outright ignore her so he decides to be short instead.

“M’not here for games, Paloma.” 

She’s taken aback by his tone, her smile faltering.

“Well excuse me for tryin’ to make conversation. Wasn’t aware that you’re in a mood today.” 

There’s a pause despite her attempt to add a teasing tone to her words to lighten him up. It falls flat.

“And I’m not looking to have a conversation. You can go.” 

Her brows cinch together at his dismissal, this is not how she was expecting for this to go.

“What’s goin on’? Is this because we… because of the kiss last night?” She lowers her voice towards the end, red blooming across her cheeks but she keeps her composure.

“Jesus,” Javier chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. It sends a sharp pang through her heart.” Why do you always think that’s the fuckin’ problem whenever I don’t want to talk to you? For someone who claims to be a grown woman all the time, you sure as shit don’t act like it.” 

She stills, the buoyant confidence that had propelled her toward him evaporating in an instant, replaced by a wave of hurt at his unexpected chilliness. What has gotten into him?

“Drop it and move on, Paloma. We just found Jessica Valdez’s body dumped out in a ditch. S’not the time to be hung up on a damn kiss.” 

The sound of the screen door shutting close breaks her away from him and the trance she’d seemingly gone into. Another victim, another tragedy to confront… and here she is acting like a smitten teenaged girl.

The urge to cower and crawl into herself, to surrender to the overwhelming embarrassment and sorrow, threatens to engulf her entirely. She remains silent, fighting back the surge of frustrated, angry tears as she pushes off the car and trudges back toward the house.

Javier exhales heavily once she strides away without a word, feeling a weight settle on his shoulders. He had braced himself for a snide remark or some form of verbal retaliation, but her silent departure was far more impactful.

“I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.” Her father murmurs as he passes her, planting a tender kiss atop her head. He lingers there for a moment but she doesn’t question it, knowing it’s because of what they found today and she doesn’t even mind that he hasn’t told her about it.

As he breaks away, she conjures up a semblance of a genuine smile, masking her turmoil, and nods before he affectionately pinches her nose and continues on his way.

She doesn’t look back, she doesn’t cry or go inside–– instead she picks up her discarded gardening gloves and proceeds to channel her energy into the simple act of mowing the grass.

She finds herself alone at the open bar as the party continues in full swing. It’s been days since Jessica’s death, and the tense conversation she had with Javier still lingers in her mind.

“Drop it and move on, Paloma.” 

Unlike the last time they went without speaking, there is much more tension between them now. The worst part about it is having to act as if nothing is wrong in the presence of her father.

No daddy, everything’s fine! It’s not like I threw myself at your co-worker not once, but twice and both times he made me feel like a fucking idiot!

She lets out a disdainful sigh, her fingers curling around the glass containing her coveted cherry root beer since she’s decided to part ways with alcohol and any other substance for the time being.

The two men are busy mingling with other guests and have been since the moment they arrived. Despite her efforts to divert her gaze elsewhere, her eyes keep involuntarily drifting towards Javier’s broad figure.

The event had called for formal attire, so when he strode in wearing a meticulously tailored all-black suit, her breath caught in her throat. The sharp lines of his outfit, coupled with the crispness of his button-down and the matching tie, made her momentarily forget why she was so upset with him. He looked too damn handsome.

It’s brutal how the things we desire most often seem to radiate the brightest when they’re just out of reach.

Observing him mingle effortlessly with others is entertaining. Contrary to her expectations, he appears completely at ease in this bustling social setting, a far cry from the disdain he expressed for large gatherings that morning in his kitchen.

He’s acting a lot more extroverted and… smile-y. It pisses her off as much as it melts her heart.

They make their way over to her and she makes a point to not even look in his direction. Though now she’s caught between her father and Javier as they order another round of drinks. 

It really doesn’t help that they’re shoulder to shoulder. The heady aroma of his cologne, laced with the familiar tang of cigarette smoke and the faint hint of whiskey, infiltrates her senses, making it impossible to outright ignore him.

Javier Peña is like a blazing beacon and she’s the foolish moth drawn inexplicably closer to his flame. But she knows all too well the danger of getting too close, like a moth singed by the heat, the allure of his brightness can be killer.

Javier had assumed that with news of Jessica being found dead, their attendance to this party wouldn’t be mandatory.

Well, he thought wrong. It is a cruel reminder of how life goes on, even when tragedy strikes.

Another dead girl, another over-the-top party.

Which is why he’ll give it an hour–– tops–– to shake whoever’s hand and meet whoever else, then he’d leave. It’s a simple plan, the only thing making it difficult for him is his proximity to the woman he’s desperately trying to cut ties with.

She looks so beautiful tonight, donning a calf length simple black dress that hugs all her curves just right. 

“There they are! My Law and Order! Y’all keepin’ the townsfolk in line?” The boastful voice of Mayor Jonah Abbott draws near and Javier suppresses the urge to roll his eyes.

Foolish of him to think he wouldn’t have to interact with the titular birthday boy tonight.

He greets both men with a firm handshake, and when his attention turns to her; Javier has to drown the subtle spark of frustration with his drink at the way his eyes rake over her body.

“And of course, Miss. Paloma. They say a smile is worth a thousand words, but yours? It’s worth a million dreams.” He brings her hand up to his lips to plant a kiss against her knuckles and all she does is offer him a polite smile. Here we go…

“Mr. Abbott—” 

“Jonah, sweetheart. Been tellin’ you to call me that for years now.” 

Her smile threatens to twitch out of annoyance, “Jonah. Happy Birthday. Thank you for invitin’ us to your home.” 

“Always a pleasure to have you ’round. I heard about your performance up in Dallas. Shame I missed it. Woulda loved to hear that beautiful voice of yours and seen you up on that stage.” 

Javier can’t help the subtle grunt he emits at the mayor’s overt flirtation, causing for her to just briefly glance up at him with a bemused flash crossing her stare.

The familiarity of Jonah’s behavior strikes a chord within him. Once upon a time, Javier was just like this–– an arrogant charmer with a penchant for flirting with anything in a skirt. Standing here amidst the other man’s smooth talk, he sees through the facade with clarity born of experience.

It’s a performance, an act to charm his way in between Paloma’s legs, though Javi can clearly see that she’s not falling for it. Does Romeo notice it too, he wonders? Or is he blinded by the mayor’s charisma, unable to see that this man clearly wants to sleep with his daughter.

Then again, Javier’s opinion on this is irrelevant and invalid since he too has been in the same predicament since meeting her. At least he didn’t do it blatantly in front of the sheriff’s face.

Or, in a turn of events, perhaps Romeo doesn’t give a damn. Jonah Abbott presents himself as a viable candidate to be with his daughter; a young politician with deep pockets and a keen interest in her.

Javier can’t shake off the mental picture of the man’s wedding ring adorning her finger, of her transforming into the perfect, submissive wife, tending to the household and filling this place with snot nosed kids. But such a scenario doesn’t align with her fiery and headstrong nature. She’s far too independent and spirited to succumb to the confines of domesticity, particularly for a man like Jonah.

Then again, why the fuck does he care?

“Well as you know, I do two shows every weekend at The Whiskey Fox. Could always stop by and see me and the band.” 

“A busy man like myself always has a full schedule. Though I reckon I should make some time to be out in the community. Wouldn’t hurt to stop by for dinner and a show.” 

He winks at her and of course he does it when her father turns to order himself another drink. Javier’s jaw flinches.

“Now Romeo, why have you been keepin’ this badass motherfucker hidden from me? I knew we had someone new joinin’ the force but I didn’t think it’d be the Javier Peña. A goddamn American hero— right here in Seminary, Texas!” 

As Jonah begins his praises, pairing them with a harsh slap to his shoulder, Javier remains cool and calculating. He refuses to be swayed by empty compliments.

Meanwhile, she breathes a silent sigh of relief as the spotlight shifts away from her, and she finds it amusing at how everyone seems to talk about Javier.

A hero. A true patriot. Such a brave soul for fightin’ the war on drugs on Uncle Sam’s behalf.

If only they knew the truth––if they had even a glimpse of the darkness he’s had to face, they wouldn’t be so quick to idolize him.

The label of hero, bestowed upon him since the demise of Escobar, sits uneasily on his shoulders. The adulation feels like a burden he never asked for, a title he never wanted. It’s a reminder of the complexities of his past, the mistakes he’s made, and the ghosts that continue to haunt him. Javi despises the word, resenting the way it overshadows his true self and the countless sins he harbors in silence.

“Gotta keep ’em humble. Keeps the head on straight.” Romeo banters back, pulling one of those haughty, rich men laughs from the mayor. 

She cringes at the pretentiousness echoing in the air.

The men break out into small talk leaving her feeling awkward as she swirls the almost fully melted ice around the empty cup. It’s not until Jonah is getting ready to move on to a new set of guests that the attention is turned back to her.

“And you, pretty girl, owe me a song. Specifically that one Linda Ronstadt song from the Fourth of July barbecue last year. Remember? S’only fair… consider it a birthday gift from you to me.” 

Despite her inner discomfort, she maintains a face of cheerfulness, though her stomach sinks with apprehension at his request. Memories of the barbecue flood her mind, vivid recollections of his relentless pursuit despite her repeated, albeit polite, refusals.

The word ’no’ is on the tip of her tongue, but knowing all too well the persistence he’s exhibited before; she succumbs to the weight of the occasion—his birthday—and the anticipation in his eyes.

“Blue Bayou, I remember. Does the band know it?” She inquires, her gaze flickering towards the live band stationed near the open area of the dance floor where a throng of people sway to the music.

She’s secretly hoping that they don’t, but the song is very popular so her hope dwindles.

“If they don’t, they will. I’ll introduce you when it’s time.” 

With a tight and forced smile gracing her lips, she simply replies, “Okay,” accompanied by a subtle nod. His wicked grin spreads larger, almost daring Javier to react by punching him square in the jaw.

Regardless of how he feels towards her and their situation, it irks him to no end how this man blatantly disregards her boundaries.

Her body language screams apprehension, evident to anyone observant enough. However, Mayor Abbott is too fixated on persuading her to comply with his wishes to take notice. It’s apparent that he’s not accustomed to hearing the word ’no’.

Javi just holds his tongue, an insult threatening to slip out, as he finishes his drink with a practiced air of nonchalance.

The mayor finally says his goodbyes before walking away and her shoulders drop instantly.

“Guess I owe ya twenty bucks.” Romeo mutters, digging into his suit pocket for his wallet. 

The laugh she gives, though slight, simultaneously soothes and torments his heart.

Damn it all— this is going to be torture but he must endure.

“She bet that he was gonna pull somethin’ like this before leavin’ the house. I was dumb enough to think he wouldn’t.” He explains to Javier as he slips his daughter the twenty dollar bill which she slyly stuffs under the fabric of her dress by her chest.

The action, seemingly simple, is so hot to him.

“How many times do I have to say m’not a damn show pony that does tricks whenever it’s asked? He’s so lucky that I’m polite and that it’s his birthday— If not I woulda told him to shove it—-” She doesn’t finish her sentence as they’re approached by a group of people that she doesn’t recognize nor care for.

She feels like an afterthought as they bombard the men with questions about the recent cases and other related topics, so she takes that as her cue to leave, ordering another mocktail before slipping away towards the dance floor.

She is fully prepared to turn her brain off to enjoy some semblance of normalcy before she’s thrown back in to the confusing pit that is her current status with the former DEA agent.

Attempting to convince herself that she’s enjoying the moment, she sways to the lively rhythm of the music, lost in her own solitary dance. A few partygoers approach her asking to join her which she declines; peeved by all the unwanted attention she’s getting.

This isn’t even her party. She holds no merit here.

Javier only catches glimpses of her from his peripheral, engrossed in a conversation with a man who remembers him from his sheriff days in Laredo, before he left for Colombia. The discourse drones on, punctuated by forced laughter and idle pleasantries. Each word falls flat, devoid of substance, yet Javier remains steadfast. Anything to keep him and his mind away from her.

Suddenly, the screeching sound of microphone feedback reverberates off the opulent walls of the ballroom-style space and she winces at noise.

“Excuse me, sorry–– I’m not very good with these things.” The man of the hour apologizes, his voice crackling through the speakers. She inwardly curses, anticipating what’s to come next. Setting her now-empty glass down on one of the nearby tables, she smooths her hands along the velvety fabric of her dress, ironing out any wrinkles, and hastily fixes her hair as best as she can without a mirror.

With a deep breath, she pushes down her nerves, summoning a smile to face the adversity when he introduces her. She steps onto the stage, the room erupting into scattered applause as she approaches the microphone.

♫

Midway through the song, to her surprise, Jonah joins her on stage, transforming the solo performance into an unexpected duet. Despite her inner discomfort, Paloma maintains a composed expression and tries to conceal any hint of surprise in her body language as he draws nearer.

Her unease heightens when he pulls her close against him, the heat of his body against hers as they sway to the rhythm of the music during the instrumental interlude of the country song. She reluctantly complies, her compliance more a result of avoidance of potential consequences than genuine willingness to dance with him.

The sight of his possessive grip on her waist, pulling her into an unwelcome dance, ignites a surge of vexation within Javier. He feels the tension in his muscles coil tighter with each step they take, their bodies moving in sync to the rhythm of the music. It’s unbearable to watch, the image of Paloma in Jonah’s arms twisting like a knife in his gut.

Without a word, Javier makes his escape, his strides purposeful as he navigates through the crowded room. He mutters a vague excuse to Romeo, the urgency in his voice betraying his need to flee from the suffocating scene unfolding before him.

Finally stepping out into the cooler night air, Javier takes a deep breath to soothe his frazzled nerves. He makes his way towards a gazebo that’s right by the large pond, putting as much distance as he can between himself and the party inside.

Leaning against the railing of the structure, he retrieves his trusty pack of cigarettes from his pocket, hands trembling slightly as he lights one. Each drag offers a fleeting moment of respite from the turmoil brewing inside him.

Inside, the song ends and she wastes no time in descending the stage, a sense of urgency propelling her movements. She refuses to linger, her mind consumed with the dread of another unwanted encounter with the mayor. Surveying the crowded room, she searches in vain for her father or Javier, but they’re nowhere to be found amidst the sea of faces.

Determined to escape the party atmosphere, Paloma makes a beeline for the exit, craving the solace of the summer night air. Stepping out onto the back porch, she inhales deeply, the breeze offering a welcome reprieve from the stifling heat of the event.

The night is alive with subtle sounds—toads croaking in the distance, the distant murmur of conversation—but it’s the solitary figure in the distance that captures her attention. With a sense of inevitability, Paloma finds herself drawn towards the silhouette, her heels clicking softly against the pavement as she descends the steps leading to the gazebo.

When she approaches, Javier remains steadfast, his gaze fixed on the tranquil expanse of water before him. The rhythmic puff of his cigarette punctuates the silence, a tangible barrier between them. Despite the tension hanging in the air, Paloma presses forward, her resolve unyielding as she closes the distance between them.

“We need to talk.” 

He stands like a statue, the weight of her words are heavy, yet he remains resolute in his silence, hoping that she’ll simply give up and leave him be. But Paloma is nothing if not persistent, her frustration bubbling over as she confronts him.

“Fuck, Javier will you at least look at me?! Acknowledge that I’m standin’ here tryin’ to speak with you?!” Her voice crackles with pent-up emotion, her southern accent thick as each word is laden with an intensity that he can’t ignore.

Reluctantly, he turns his head slightly, his gaze skimming over her figure with resignation. It’s a small concession, but it’s enough to stoke the fire of her frustration to new heights.

“I dunno why you’ve decided to be such a jerk to me all of the sudden,” she continues, her tone laced with a raw edge of hurt and confusion. “You’re tellin’ me that I’m bein’ childish a-and that I need to move on from the kiss but we both know it’s so much bigger than that. We’ve been dancin’ around it since the moment we met and I’m tired of pretendin’ like I don’t want you.” 

His eyes close briefly, a fleeting moment of vulnerability before he retreats behind his stoic facade once more. His fingers find their way to the bridge of his nose, pinching tightly as he struggles to find the right words to respond. But before he can form a coherent thought, she presses on, her voice trembling with the weight of her confession.

“I told myself I wouldn’t care if you didn’t feel the same way,” She admits, her voice growing softer now, tinged with a hint of desperation. “But that was before I got to know you. Before you somehow wriggled your way into my heart and overtook my mind entirely. We became friends, and I-I didn’t want to screw that up. But then we kissed, and in that moment, I knew you wanted me just as badly…” 

She draws closer, her hand reaching out tentatively to rest on his shoulder, the touch sending a jolt of tension through his body. It’s a silent plea, a manifestation of her vulnerability, and it’s all he can do to keep his composure still as her words wash over him like a hurricane.

“Every time I see you I don’t want to behave, Javi. I’m tired of being patient, so let’s pick up the pace and finally give in.” 

He flicks his finished cigarette out into the water, the ember trailing like a shooting star before disappearing into the dark abyss below.

Slowly, he turns to face her fully, the summer air crackling with tension as he takes in her determined stance. His hand shoots out, grabbing hold of the wrist that had just been resting on him, his dark eyes boring into hers in an act of intimidation.

But Paloma doesn’t back down, her gaze unwavering as she meets his stare head-on. Instead, she brings her free hand up to rest against his chest, the heat of her touch seeping through the fabric of his shirt as she steps closer, closing the gap between them until his dress shoes are toe-to-toe with her pointed heels.

He doesn’t make an effort to step away or decline her advances, his resolve crumbling in the face of her determination. Her words have jumbled him up completely, the sudden revelation of her feelings catching him off guard and leaving him reeling. The direct mention of what they’ve been indulging in for the past few months digs into his achilles’ heel—his tendency to fall in love in the damndest of times.

He stares down into her eyes, a storm of conflicting emotions raging wildly. The lust swirling in her gaze stirs something primal and raw within him. Any rational part of his brain seems to shut down in that moment, his thoughts consumed by the overwhelming desire to kiss her again, to lose himself in the exhilarating whirlwind of emotions that she evokes from him.

“It’s obviously insane, m’not a fucking idiot I understand the repercussions…. but we both know what we want, so why don’t we…” She whispers, tilting her head up until their lips brush against one another.

“Why don’t we fall in love?” 

It’s not clear who makes the first move, but their lips are interlocked in a passionate kiss—a fierce collision of desire and pent-up longing that surpasses the one they had previously shared. Paloma’s hand on his chest clenches the fabric of his shirt while Javier relinquishes his grip on her wrist, his own hands rising to cradle her jaw in his palms.

The taste of the lingering cigarette smoke mingles with the faint bitterness of alcohol on his breath, a heady combination that heightens her desire. She moans softly into his mouth, her tongue intertwining with his in a desperate attempt to savor every fleeting moment before it inevitably slips away.

Javier, consumed by the intoxicating sensation, slowly walks her back until her back is against the sturdy pillar of the gazebo, his movements now possessive and urgent. He deepens the kiss, molding his body against hers as if to merge their souls into one.

Her touch is addicting, a bittersweet symphony that resonates in the depths of his bones. Despite the warnings screaming in the recesses of his mind, urging him to stop and pull away, he finds himself unable to resist the magnetic pull she exerts over him.

Breaking the kiss, Javier’s lips trail down the side of her mouth, blazing a trail of heated kisses along her jawline before descending to her neck. His teeth graze her delicate skin, resisting the urge to leave a trail of marks in their wake as his tongue traces a path along her neck and up to her earlobe, where he bites down gently.

“Is this what you wanted, nena? For me to shower you in my fucking attention?” He husks, his voice thick with desire and a hint of frustration. His words swim between them, a question laced with layers of longing and palpable need, as he continues to lavish attention upon her neck, each kiss and caress fueling the flames of their mutual desire.

Paloma just whines, arching herself into him as her thighs rub together to relieve the tension of arousal that is assaulting her core.

“Yes, Javi, that’s all I want. I want you to talk to me, to touch me, to make me feel good.” 

Her hands are now against his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket as she feels the muscles beneath tense at her touch. A low, guttural groan escapes his lips in response to her words, a primal sound that sends shivers down her spine.

“I can make you feel good, hermosa. Better than any fucking culero (asshole) in this town.” He murmurs, his voice dripping with possessiveness. With deliberate intent, Javi begins to hike up her long dress, the fabric yielding easily to his touch until it’s gathered at the top of her thighs, exposing her black, lacey panties. His hands roam lower, trailing a path of electricity along her skin until they find purchase behind her thighs, gripping the soft skin firmly as he effortlessly lifts her into his arms.

She wraps her legs around his waist, anchoring herself to him as he hoists her up against the solid pillar of the gazebo. She feels his hardness pressing up against her clothed cunt and it has a sharp pang of pleasure sprouting at her core, igniting a fierce heat to course through her entirely. His touch is addicting, sending waves of ecstasy rippling through her body as she surrenders to the intrinsic urgency of their shared horniness.

The pure conviction in his tone only adds to the intensity of the moment. She wants nothing more than to be completely ruined by this man. She wants to be his, and his alone.

Javier grinds his hips up, the friction between them firing up every nerve ending. Her pussy throbs with need, aching for more of his touch. She can feel every inch of him pressing against her, his hard cock straining against his pants, begging to be released.

As their bodies move in perfect harmony, she wraps her fingers in his hair, tugging at it lightly. His lips move from her neck and crash against hers, a wild, passionate kiss that leaves them both panting for air. It grows more frenzied, their teeth clashing together in a desperate and selfish need for more. She moans into his mouth, the sound sending a jolt of electric arousal straight to his cock. He grinds harder against her, his hips moving in rhythm with hers.

She can feel her orgasm building, a fierce heat blossoming at her pussy. Her whimpers turn to animated moans as she writhes against him. The last time she dry humped someone to completion had been way back in high school and that had been an overall embarrassment so it’s never something she revisited.

Not until now, with Javier who is making her feel like she’s the only girl in the fucking world.

His fingers expertly cup her breast, teasing her hardened nipple through the fabric of her dress. She arches her back, pressing her chest into his hand, silently begging for more. He takes the hint, groping her and squeezing it gently, relishing in the way she shudders.

Her eyes close in ecstasy as he continues to knead her tit. His other hand trails along her inner thigh, inching closer and closer to the heat between her legs. When he finally reaches her core, she gasps, her body trembling with need. He doesn’t touch her, instead he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of her thigh.

“If this is what you wanted so fucking bad then go ahead and take it, needy girl. Go on, make yourself cum by grinding that wet pussy all over me.” 

She mewls, throwing her head back as she feels her orgasm building. She’s such a sight to bear witness to, how her swollen lips part and his name slips from her tongue like a hymn, making his cock twitch.

Her wetness seeps through her flimsy thong, leaving a damp spot on the fabric of his dress pants. He can feel it seeping through the material and it drives him mad. He needs to be inside her, to feel her walls fluttering around his cock as they finally give in to each other…

But first, he wants to watch her unravel just like this.

“I’m close, Javi…” His lips hungrily devour the tender flesh of her neck again, making her eyes roll back as their hips continue to move at a sensual pace. The metallic zipper of his pants brushes against her sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. She can’t help but cry out in sweet surrender, her voice louder than before.

His large hand clamps over her mouth, preventing her screams from echoing out.

“Don’t get us caught, chiquita. Wouldn’t want your daddy comin’ out here and findin’ you like this–– all cockdrunk and begging to be fucked.” 

His dirty and abrasive words are like fuel to the flames of her impending climax, sending her spiraling out of control. Her rhythm stutters, her body writhing uncontrollably as she bites down on the skin of his palm as the orgasm overtakes her entirely.

All that can be heard is their heavy, shared pants. His hand falls from her mouth as she falls limp in his arms, her body jolting every now and again with the aftershock of her intense orgasm. 

She peppers tender kisses along the bare expanse of his jaw, silently berating him for having his shirt buttoned up for once and the pesky tie restricting her from licking and biting against the tantalizing skin of his neck and collarbone.

“Need… need to feel you, Javi, please.” She whines against his ear, her hands trailing down from his broad shoulders, over his chest, then down to his belt buckle. She can still feel the swell of him pressed up against her sopping cunt and despite just coming hard; she’s craving to feel all of him.

This is the pivotal moment where he knows he should exercise restraint, where the noble path of virtue beckons him to rise above the consuming tide of desire. To explain to her that they can and never will be anything but an unattainable fantasy.

But he doesn’t, instead Javi lets her untuck his dress shirt from his pants and helps her with unbuckling his belt.

“We shouldn’t do this, Paloma…” Is all he can say in an attempt to keep it from happening but she shushes him, her hand slipping beneath his boxers as she wraps her manicured fingers around his girth and begins to pump him slowly.

“Mierda,” He curses in Spanish, his forehead falling gently against hers as his eyes flutter close at the overwhelming feeling of her softer, smaller hand jerking him off. Her thumb glides over the tip, spreading his excessive precum over the length of his cock.

“But we want to… oh you’re so big Javi. Gonna be feelin’ you for days…” She sounds like something out of a wet dream and he simply can’t hold back any longer.

He instructs her to grab his wallet from his suit pocket and to retrieve the condom he keeps in there, receiving a playful eye roll from her but she doesn’t push her luck–– she needs him badly and she’d go absolutely feral if he decided to deny them both the pleasure of fucking.

His strong hold on her keeps them secure against the pillar, she rips the small package with her teeth then pushes his pants down enough to release his erection, rolling the latex on easily.

There’s a moment where suspension hangs in the air, both of them staring into each other’s lust blown eyes.

“Don’t think about it too much, please. Just fuck me.” 

Her insistence is such a turn on, spurring him into reaching down to ball up the thin layer of her panties before he yanks them off, the sound of the fabric tearing apart causing her to gasp. Stuffing the ruined material into his back pocket, he readjusts his hips so that the thick head of his cock presses up against her exposed and puffy folds.

“Such an impatient little thing, hermosa. I shouldn’t even give you what you want. Should just walk away and leave you here a desperate and wet mess.” 

Gripping onto the base of his cock with his free hand, Javier nudges it between her slit and teases her, the head repeatedly brushing against the pearl of her clit.

Her breath hitches, rolling her hips to entice him into entering her, “Please, Javi, I’ll do whatever you want just plea–– oh f-fuck!” 

He sinks into her pussy, leaning forward to bite down on her shoulder to keep his own sounds of pleasure at bay as he feels the way her fleshy walls contract around his cock, stretching her with how thick he is.

Her fingers return to intertwine themselves in his hair as he begins to set a delicious pace, fucking into her with a passion that’s making her see stars. The feeling of his teeth digging into her skin is an added stimulant to the already immense pleasure.

“Damn it you’re so tight. Feel so good wrapped around my cock, pretty girl. You satisfied now that I’m giving you what you want, huh?” He grunts out, nipping at her jawline as all she does is keen and moan, too overwhelmed with how good he’s making her feel. “Spoiled little thing, gonna fuck that right out of this tight little body. So you can learn, fuck, learn how not to be such a fucking pain in my ass.” 

She’s too wrapped up in the feeling of him brushing up against her cervix to fully process what he is saying against her skin. Their lips slant over each other as they kiss messily, the way he fucks her making her brain melt.

There’s no thoughts up there, just the feeling of him as he continues to break her open with his delicious cock.

His hands fall down to her waist, holding on tightly as he goes from languid thrusts to a quicker, more brutal pace as they chase their orgasms.

She’s glad that they’re far away enough to where no one can interrupt this moment, though the idea of there being an onlooker does entice her more than she’d ever admit. 

Her legs tighten around his waist, the pointed heel of her shoes digging into his backside as she feels a knot forming at the pit of her stomach, indicating that she isn’t far from coming undone.

“C’mon nena, be a good girl and let go,” His thumb finds itself being pressed against her soft lips and immediately she opens her mouth, licking around then sucking the digit and maintaining eye contact through it all. It has Javier grunting out a few expletives before letting his saliva coated thumb drop between them, rubbing tight circles against her clit.

This has her clenching around him and crying out, which causes a smirk to tug at his lips as he puts more pressure onto her clit.” Tan bonita así, toda lista para mi. (So pretty like this, all ready for me)” 

She tugs harshly at his hair at the sound of his Spanish, her arousal topples over and her second orgasm hits her like toppling bricks. She squeezes his cock tightly inside her, her legs an iron grip on his waist as she bites down harshly on her bottom lip, almost drawing blood, to keep her intense whimpers and moans from spilling out and drawing attention to them.

Satisfied that he’s made her unravel on him, Javier fucks her through her orgasm relentlessly until he’s spilling into the condom, burying his face in her neck, right where he can feel her pulse, and grazing the skin with his teeth. He wants to leave a mark, for her to walk around with evidence of him on her body but that’d be a wrong move atop of all the other wrong moves he’s made tonight.

Paloma breathes heavily, mind hazy as she tries to recollect herself from the throes of passion bestowed upon her by Javier Peña. They stay there, embraced in one another before he pulls out of her with a grunt and she whines at the loss of him.

Her legs unwrap from his waist as he tentatively sets her down, discarding of the condom into the water as he tucks himself back into his pants and she pulls her dress down, not even bothered by the fact that he ripped her underwear right off of her.

“That was a mistake.” 

His statement cuts through the night air and she’s already struggling to catch her footing on wobbly legs, the effect of being fucked hard and good.

“Javi––” 

“No, Paloma, I’m fucking serious.” He asserts, his voice taking on a sharp edge, landing like a heavy blow on her already rattled nerves.

“All that sentimental bullshit you were saying before… it means nothing to me. You’re just a distraction–– a pretty face that’s been keeping me from doing my damn job. Now, there’s another life lost, and instead of finding answers, I’m too busy babysitting you.” 

“Don’t you dare pin your incompetence on me, Javier,” She shoots back, her tone tinged with anger and frustration,” I’ve seen my father struggle with this bullshit for months now–– it has nothing to do with me and everything to do with you. S’not my fault you’re not as clever as everyone thinks you are. All the praise you get for being such a fuckin’ hero and yet… look at you. Unable to meet the expectations.” 

She adjusts the thin straps of her dress back up her shoulder, wincing slightly as she brushes against the bite mark he accidentally left against her skin, knowing that she’s going to feel that atop of the soreness between her legs after this.

She braces herself for the inevitable discomfort that will follow, both physically and emotionally.

Javier’s jaw tightens, muscles rippling beneath his skin as he fights to maintain his composure. He knows better than to let her words get to him the way that they are.

This is exactly what they need, some intense fight to fully shatter the illusion of their involvement.

“Look at you, Paloma,” He sneers, his words dripping with contempt as he levels a scornful gaze at her. “Throwing yourself at me every chance you get like a whore. I used to pay for shit like this, but you? Oh, I didn’t spare a fucking dime. Giving it all up for free.” 

Her jaw drops, a surge of anger and indignation flooding her senses as his words cut through her like a knife. She raises her hand instinctively, intent on delivering a stinging rebuke in the form of a slap across his jaw. But before she can make contact, his grip tightens around her wrist, arresting her movement with an iron grip.

“Don’t be stupid, querida,” He mocks her, his voice laced with disdain as he delivers each word like a venomous dagger. “Now that I fucked you one good time: Leave. Me. Alone. How ’bout you go back inside and fraternize with the mayor. I’m sure he’s eager to give you all the male validation you’re clearly chasing after.” He tilts his head, glaring at her in contempt. “Better yet, run off to your junkie, criminal boyfriend; won’t be long before he knocks you up and you’re stuck living in a run down trailer park in this shitty fucking town.” 

Paloma’s heart shatters at his callous words, tears welling up in her eyes and streaming down her cheeks unchecked. She gazes up at Javier, but the man before her is no longer the sweet, charming figure she thought she knew. His eyes, once warm and inviting, now glint with coldness and malice, rendering him unrecognizable to her.

“Fuck you,” She spits, wrenching her hand free from his grip with a mixture of anger and hurt flashing in her eyes. Despite the tears welling up, she summons every ounce of defiance to shoot him a disdainful glare. “You’re a piece of shit, Javier Peña.” 

With those final words, ones he’s heard a plethora of times before, she whirls around, her footsteps echoing loudly on the wooden stairs as she races to the nearest bathroom.

Ignoring the throbbing ache between her legs, she finds solace in the confines of the lavish restroom, allowing herself to unleash the torrent of tears pent up inside. Feeling foolish and utterly used, she wonders how she could have ever fallen for a man like him.

Meanwhile, Javier is left grappling with the sight of her heartbreak now etched into his memory. Pushing aside his own conflicted emotions, he knows he can’t afford to let their tangled affair distract him any longer.

This is what you both needed. He reminds himself, looking out into the water as the silver moonlight reflects off of the surface. Harsh, but she’ll get over it.

With a resigned sigh, he retrieves another cigarette, the familiar ritual offering a fleeting sense of calm amidst the storm raging about.

[somestorythoughts]

Eldritch Echo - Part 7

I return. There are explanations here! The kind that answer the what and not the why, but explanations nonetheless. Someone also asks if they can eat the Chancellor, but I promise he doesn't actually want to eat him. That much corruption definitely tastes nasty. Also @mezmatch I'm not sure if I've been tagging correctly but hope this is visible.

In Coruscant, CMO Blood ignores the way the wall across from him peels away from the emerging face with stone eyes and needle-long fangs. He’s stitching a gash in the leg of one of his Corries and isn’t about to pause to look at a dramatic ARC.

“Sitrep?”

“I’ve finished with the Guard. The slicers developed something, but they were debating how to send it out last night. I don’t know if they’ve decided yet. And you?”

“I’ve got the files. Three copies with me, three with the medics you directed me to on Kamino. You sure we can’t-”

“I didn’t know you wanted to be a cannibal so badly.”

“I don’t, I’m just saying that if we ate him we’d be extra sure he wouldn’t survive.”

“A beheading is just as effective and less gross.” Blood replied, leaving the unconscious vod so he could wash his hands. “Give me one of those copies and then keep yourself busy for the next two hours. The meeting is in two and a half, and we need you to play your part in this plan.”

ARC Trooper Fives grins, eager and angry. “Don’t worry Blood. I’ll be there.”

…

In the Marauder, Wrecker approaches Echo, who’s been reading for the past hour. “We’re gonna talk about what we know about your thing. I thought you’d want to know, and since you’d probably listen in anyway I should just invite you?”

“Thanks Wrecker.” Echo replies. He’d been listening to their conversations as much to know if they wanted to kick him out as to see how their investigation was going. As a twin he’s used to looking strange from time to time, but there’s strange and there’s forcibly and painfully altered before being used to kill vod. He’s growing comfortable with his new limbs and his new team, but he hasn’t fully reached comfortable yet. And he thinks it’s mutual, maybe especially now that he’s been messing with them.

But hiding it isn’t a long-term solution, not on a ship this small. The Bad Batch says they like weird. If they’re honest about that, his tendency to occasionally grow claws and turn blue shouldn’t be a problem.

He catches Hunter’s eye when he follows Wrecker in and the Sergent shrugs. Crosshair gives Echo his usual scowl, which he uses for everything from inconvenient terrain to burned coffee, so that’s probably not too bad. “Any chance you’ll just give us an answer?”

“It’s payback.” Echo grins, needle-sharp for all of a second. “For those two times you forgot I hadn’t memorized your plans yet. And the smell of the ship. It’s also entertaining.”

“Your plans are the same kind of crazy don’t deny it.” Hunter sighs. “Can you at least agree not to lie if we ask?”

“I never lied. Not for these questions.” And it’s true. Crosshair may have gotten nowhere with his questions, but every answer Echo had given had been either blatantly ridiculous or true but vague. He’d gotten a lot of entertainment out of it this week.

“We should start by reviewing what we know.” Tech states. “Echo has some form of deviancy from the Prime that expresses itself in multiple ways. They mostly appear to be physical but has also included using his shadow to eavesdrop and talk to us when he was in another room.” He paused, then glanced up. “Incidentally, could you use that to scout ahead?”

Echo made a so-so gesture. “Depends on the terrain. I wouldn’t recommend it over someone scouting ahead in person, but it’s helped before. And I’m not separate from my shadow, I can’t pay attention to what’s in front of me and what’s in front of my shadow at the same time.”

“That is good to know.” Tech replied. “We have seen multiple examples of your shape changing in small ways, not enough to indicate your limits, though from your comment about your prosthetics I believe you either cannot alter them or are still learning how to. Is that correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you elaborate?”

Echo tilts his head back, frowning. He’s tried to put words to this before, he likes words, and he’s trying to remember what he’d thought then. “The changing is a bit like a reflex. You can stop it – we all did our best too while we were on Kamino – but it’s also partly automatic. My body’s still adjusting to the prosthetics so they don’t change as much on their own, and I’m still adjusting mentally, so it takes a little more effort to do something like this.”

He raised his right arm. The scomp end split apart into something like a flower, Torrent blue with red stripes.

“There are more of you then.” Hunter states.

Echo smiled, bittersweet. The sweet glowed under his irises, the bitter ached in his throat and bruised his skin as if it was trying to do more than metaphorically suffocate him. “It’s never a good idea to assume you’re entirely alone in the universe. The first pair were decommissioned within their first year. The Kaminoans like uniformity, and from what Ninety-Nine told me that first pair was way off the mark. He said it was as if all of us that came later got the message somehow, our differences were quieter as tubies. But we’ve never adhered to uniformity well.”

Echo, who found comfort in the kind of quiet minute detail-work that was essential but considered boring, who had been threatened a time too many with decommissioning, and who was often overshadowed by his louder twin, had been an exception to that norm. Not anymore.

“And who’s we?” Crosshair asked.

As fun as this game has been, he might as well wrap it up. “We’re twins Crosshair. Myself and Fives, Cobalt and Cerulean, you know that absurdly cheerful medic in the 212th? He’s another.”

“But what is a twin when we’re all clones?”

Echo shrugged. “We just are. You know how you know how to reassemble a blaster, effortlessly and thoughtlessly? It’s like that but without the endless drills. Or the way most batches pick oldest and youngest by vibes. Each twin in a set was decanted on the same day, and when we find each other, we know. Fives I, I don’t remember meeting him and if he says he does he’s lying but, we’ve always known. Someone suggested there was Force stuff involved and it’s as good an explanation as any, but I don’t think any of us knows the why of it.”

Tech and Crosshair shared a glance before Tech said, almost hesitantly, “I read the report of ARC trooper Fives’ death. But you always talk about him in the present.”

Echo’s next breath shudders. “I, I would know. He’s the other half of my soul and I would know if he was truly gone. There was this shiny in Torrent a bit before the Citadel called Dogma. He’d lost his twin a few months before being sent out and I think the only thing keeping him going was his remaining batcher and his extreme loyalty to the Republic. He told him that he felt his twin die from all the way across Tipoca City. So I’d know.”

The squad glances at each other uncertainly and anything they might have said interrupted by a beeping from the console. Tech hurried to the pilot’s seat and Hunter sighed. “Mission time boys.”

Echo shoved up from the seat. Time to get to work.

[iwriteloveletters]

Rosemary (Cannibal Eren x Reader)

Hiiii!!! Cherub again, this was just a silly one shot I have though of and Eren brainrot had hit me again recently and I love writing about him, this is ofc Out Of Character so super sorry about this!! I hope if you stumble accross my inconsistently written one shot you enjoy it.

TW - BLOOD, KIDNAPPING, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, DRUGGING, MURDER, CANNIBALISM, !!!!NOT PROOF READ!!!!

WORDS - 3,453

He saw you in everything. In the air he breathed, the water he drank, even in the God he prayed to. You were the only human he saw God in.

Most importantly, he saw you in the people he ate.

Several people who matched your exact description were found with limbs missing, it appeared that they had bled out to death after having their limbs torn off brutally.

Was it wrong of you to assume that this was targeted towards you? Many individuals around your age and are in similar professions were being brutally murdered horribly and didn't receive any justice. It’s impossible to catch the murderer.

You try not to let it get to your head but your family and peers have also caught on to this resemblance, no one lets you hear the end of it. Your mother wants your location, your best friend wants you to text them when you get home safe or when you go to work, all eyes are on you and you are sick of it.

At the office you worked at it was somewhat normal about your resemblance to the recent victims, a lot of them don’t know you personally for them to want to intrude on your privacy. You coming to work was simply enough to let them know you weren’t next in this case.

Today was normal as usual, you started off with today's workload and you’re finally on your fifteen minute break.

“Oh hey (Y/N)!” One of your coworkers greeted you. It was Eren Jaeger, he’s been here longer than you and trained you actually when you started here a year ago.

“Good morning Eren.” You sighed as you took a seat in the breakroom.

He scanned your face for a moment, “are you feeling alright?”

You didn’t realize you looked tired or bad overall, maybe you’re coming down with a cold?

“Uhh, yeah? I didn’t think I looked bad today.” You shyly chuckled.

“You sure? I know it must be stressful seeing the recent news about that serial killer.” You didn’t think about it much but it was half true, all eyes were on you and you had your own fears of being next. You’re more scared than anyone around you right now because it feels like any moment now you’ll be caught in a vulnerable position no matter how hard the people that loved you tried to prevent what felt like the inevitable.

“Well… it is stressful. But I know you really don’t know me so I won’t talk your ears off on your break!” You tried to walk out of the break room till he stopped you.

“How about I take you out for a few drinks? Think of it as a therapy session at a bar!” He laughed to himself.

That didn’t sound so bad actually, you thought to yourself.

You’d have an outside perspective on the entire situation and might even receive worthwhile advice.

“Perfect! I’ll take you today afterwork!” He said before you can even respond.

“Alright!” You said without giving it any other thought.

He walked off and you had eleven minutes left to yourself.

The end of your workday eventually rolled around and you see Eren waiting in the lobby, he truly meant what he said about getting drinks after work today. That made you nervous.

You weren’t attracted to him or at least you thought so, but it felt nice seeing a guy around your age and outside of your close friend group wanting to see you and listen to you, that rarely came by. He might be a good guy.

“Are you ready? I’m getting a taxi and I know you don’t drive.”

You nodded your head as you followed him outside.

As you both walked towards the taxi he opened the door for you, he truly was a gentleman.

You guys then sat in silence while on your way to the bar he let you choose, you chose something not too far away from your home so you can still be safe and not spend an arm and a leg on the taxi home.

Eren of course opened the door for you on the way out and even held his hand out for you to grab as you exited the taxi.

“Can’t wait to see what my client needs to talk about today.” He teased as you both went to find good or decent seats.

You both ordered your drinks and continued sitting in silence. You haven’t said a word since you got in the taxi.

“A lot is going on huh?”

“You could say that,”

“Well go ahead, tell me. I’m not your peer with seniority right now, I’m some guy you’re getting a drink with and telling me your business.

“It’s a lot.” You said, you’re trying to warn him or figure out if he’s joking. Any of those answers works right now.

He waved his hand signaling that he wants to listen to his coworker talk about their weird serial killer fear.

“Ever since that serial killer has been going around letting all those people bleed out to death I’ve been stressed, I fit the description of the people murdered and my family and friends won’t let me forget about it. Every day it feels like more and more precautions set up by them, it feels like they’re expecting me to be murdered. Any day now should be my time, they think! And they want to make sure I know that too. I’m scared Eren. I don't want that to happen.” Your voice cracked.

You’re in a bar talking about your fear of being brutally murdered to your coworker and your voice cracks because you’re on the verge of tears.

He rested on your hand on your shoulder, “hey it’s okay, I know it's scary but I’m sure you won’t be next.”

“How would my family know though?”

He hummed while he thought about his answer to that. You wish there was an easy solution for all of this, you really wish that this uncaught serial killer never started their pattern of murders. Life wouldn’t be so full of fear mongering people.

“Show them you aren’t scared, stop sharing, stop letting them track you. You’re not scared anymore, you don’t wanna be scared right (Y/N)?” He broke your train of thought with the most truthful response you ever heard.

He looked at you with a passion you never thought you’d see from someone so distant such as your coworker. It was beautiful to you.

“You can’t let fear take control over you, not even people's fears. You’d spend the day you do die in fear, don’t let that be your major regret. Start off by turning off your location.” He said.

You did as he said and turned off your location and got rid of your Life-360. Your best friend Sasha and your parents no longer have access to it.

“Of course I’ll let them know that I don’t want to share my location with them and why.” You smiled, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. You were freeing yourself from other people's fears.

“Anything else you feel like you need to do?”

“No I don’t think so!” You said.

This was a great start to a possible friendship.

By this point you both were on your second drink and began to feel tired. You and Eren agreed on one last drink however to end a wonderful night.

You then excused yourself to the bathroom while your drink was being made. ‘He was such a great guy’, you thought to yourself. You never expected him to be so kind especially during your first after work outing. You really want to pursue him now, in which way is what you didn’t have an answer to yet.

As you stepped forward towards your bar stools your drinks were being placed by the bartender, it was perfect timing. Soon you’d be in bed starting a new day that wasn’t plagued by fear.

“Welcome back.” He smiled as he greeted you back.

You smiled as you took a sip of your drink, then another, and another. You felt great, you were relaxed for the first time in a while. You were understood and validated.

Eren began sharing things about his personal life as well by this point and suddenly you felt drowsy, you couldn’t comprehend Eren well while he spoke and he seemed to have caught on and out an arm around you.

The last thing you heard was Eren saying that you were safe in his care and he will get you home safe. It was dark now.

You woke up and you felt cold, and as you opened your eyes it was still dark.

This didn’t feel like home at all, you were on the hard ground instead of your bed, it didn’t smell like your favorite scented candle anymore. It smelled awful actually.

You were not home.

“Eren?” You called out. You were scared. Maybe something happened to you both.

You saw the glow of a hallway light fill up a small space in the room you were in, you saw a silhouette.

“(Y/N)?” Eren said. He was the man standing over you. He really tricked you? He was so kind and genuine, how could he do this to you?

“Eren, what’s going on I’m scared.” You shook in your spot.

He moved closer to you, you cowered closer into the corner of the room, maybe he’ll back off eventually.

He brought out his hand the same exact way he did in the taxi, you feel so stupid. You even turned off your location and told them they had nothing to worry about. You were stupid and you felt like you were going to get seriously hurt.

“Come with me, angel.” He spoke in the same calm tone as earlier when you were getting worked up about your fears and stress.

You had no choice but to take his untrustworthy hand and follow him wherever he took you, maybe he’ll set you free with minimal harm.

As he helped you up he guided you out the room into what appeared to be his house, it was clean and simply decorated. You both eventually found yourselves in front of a dark wooden door. It looked different from the rest of the house, this door seemed old and had scratched on it.

“Are you going to fucking torture me or something?” Your voice trembled.

He let out a huge laugh, as if you said something so shocking and unbelievable. It felt like him kidnapping you and leading you to this door was the only thing on his list tonight.

“Why would I do that? I just got you here.” He said as his laugh finally died down.

He finally opened the door and the smell that hit you was putrid, you couldn’t even describe what it smelled like.

He shoved you into the doorway first, and you were met with stairs that led into complete darkness. He pushed you further so you had to take a step down in order to not fall down a flight of steps. The smell kept getting stronger and stronger the more you went down with him.

“You smell that?” He said as he was reaching for a light.

“Mhm.” You said while nodding your head, if you said anything else or even thought about the smell a bit more you would have thrown up.

“I can’t wait for you to see this angel.” He finally turned on the light. It was dim in the room now but you saw exactly what he wanted you to see.

The sight that was before you was terrible. There were limbs everywhere, old blood stains on the ground and walls, this was going to haunt you for the rest of your life. That was if Eren let you live long enough to be haunted by this.

He walked over to a severed hand and licked it slowly, as though he was savoring it. His eyes were closed as he enjoyed the taste of old blood that has been sitting in his basement for an unknown amount of time.

“This is new, don't worry. I won’t get sick, I have to stay healthy for you.” He locked eyes with you. Dropping the now clean hand back onto the floor.

“You’re… you’re not… the murderer right?” You said, you began to slowly turn around to try and make your escape, the door that leads back upstairs was still open.

Before you could make a run for it, he caught on fast and grabbed your hair by its roots, your scalp beginning to sting and your heart beating so fast you swear he could hear it with you.

“C’mon, don’t be like that,” he cooed, “I did all this for you.”

You let out a grunt in response, you’re thinking and smelling too much at once. You wanted to pass out and hope this was all a nightmare but your body knew this was reality, your body wanted to run.

He turned your head back around to face the gruesome scene once again, “you’re right, I am that person. But you know, I did do all this for you.”

“What the Hell are you talking about?!” You let out a cry.

“(Y/N),” He sighed, “I’ve been in love with you for months now. You seemed so unobtainable that I had to relieve my stress of not having you somehow! But then with some help I have you all to myself.”

You felt so sick, everyone was right. You were next and he made you feel like everyone in your life was crazy for thinking that. It was only a matter of time before he licked the blood off your hands next.

“You could’ve asked me out normally!” You said.

“Were you attracted to me?”

You weren’t, but it wasn’t because he was ugly; he wasn’t. But he never caught your eye, until he did at the bar and then betrayed your trust in less than five hours.

“No.” You gave in, you don’t understand or respect his actions but you both knew you weren’t attracted to him. He was simply a coworker.

“I started with having sex with people that looked similar to you, but it wasn’t enough. I got so angry that they weren’t you and were never going to be you, so I started killing them. Then that wasn’t enough by the third person I started eating them.” He said. He frowned for a moment but then grinned, what else could be going on in his head?

“But I don’t have to do that anymore.” He said while guiding you back up stairs.

You had no choice but to follow him back up, at least you didn’t have to smell the indescribable rot in his basement anymore. Fear of what was going to happen to you next though was still there, your life was in his hands and there was no way you could fight against him. Not right now.

“I finally have you, isn’t that great?” He sounded so proud of murdering people and kidnapping you on top of that.

“No.” You said, you weren’t going to let him corner you like this, you wanted to be free. Nothing about this was great.

“What?” His voice cracked, he was now trying to hold back tears.

“Nothing about this was great for ANYONE.” You shouted. You turned to face him and his once bright green eyes were dull and empty. It felt like you were staring into the nothingness of space. But you didn’t care, he ate people and kidnapped you. He didn’t deserve sympathy.

“No but I love you, I love you so much you wouldn’t let me have you. This was my outlet (Y/N).” He trembled. He hated rejection more than anything. He then grabbed your arms and began to shake you aggressively, “You don’t get to say what isn’t good, do you understand that?”

You tried to push him off you but he was much stronger than you right now, you could feel the bruises forming on your arms. He was known to have a short temper but you didn’t expect to be the cause of him snapping right now. You knew fighting back was going to make things a lot more difficult for you so you simply stood there helplessly as he shook you like you were a doll.

He continued to shout about how his one sided love for you wasn’t fair and that he wasn’t having fun either.

But why would he continue to eat these people that slightly resemble you? To you he enjoyed this more than anything, to you he enjoyed the chase and the fighting the victims put him through.

He jolted you back to your disgusting reality after a long shouting session.

“Do you understand?”

You nodded as fast as you could, you wanted him to stop shouting and shaking you once and for all. You wanted just a bit of human decency, the decency expected from a coworker.

He walked you to a chair, the chair was light brown leather and had thick arm rests, these were chairs you’d find in hospitals. There were clear signs of old blood alongside scratches. This had to have been used on his victims. Perhaps he simply wanted to eat and murder you? He motioned you to sit and before you could begin to take a seat he forced you into the big old chair.

He crouched as he began to tie your wrists against the arm rests and your legs together to ensure you won’t try to escape.

“I won’t be rough, I promise.” He said while focused on the intricate knots he was tying.

You sat there carefully, the more you sat still there was less of a chance for him to react negatively towards you. But he barely looked at you while he was tying you to the chair.

There was a slight burning sensation but nothing that would send you into hysterics luckily. You simply had to stay still for Eren.

“There!” He exclaimed he was more than happy to be finally done with tying, the texture of the rope also made his fingertips burn too.

He took notice of your red wrists from the friction of rope and skin and kissed your wrists lightly.

His lips were soft and warm, it made him feel more human than he actually was. This man was the Devil to you however, and no amount of kisses will solve that.

“I tried real hard to make sure this didn’t hurt, you know angel?” He said, he was still crouched on the ground, right now he was below you. You knew who had the power here though.

“I practiced.” He said while still leaving small warm kisses on your irritated wrists. It felt like he wanted you to praise him for his ‘hard’ work.

“Good job, Eren.” You tried to sound happy for him but the only tone that you had was an exhausted tone. You wanted to die already.

Despite the exhausted tone you kept with him, his green eyes lit up at you. He looked like he received the highest honor; your praise.

“Thank you (Y/N).” He said, “But no matter how many times I practice with this one thing I could never make it painless.” the light in his eyes died down and he pulled a hunting knife from his pocket.

Your heart rate skyrocketed now, you thought maybe a heart attack would occur and kill you before Eren did but all it did was beat in your chest as well as inside your ears.

“Don’t be scared please.” He cooed, he spoke to you the way you’d speak to a hurt puppy.

He pressed the knife against your skin, with a long drag across your skin red beads followed. Then it became tears of blood leaking out of you.

He had such a hungry look in his eyes it disgusted you. He then pressed his lips and you felt his tongue follow the cut he left behind.

“Mmm… you taste so so good, better than I’d ever imagined.”

You shuddered, everything felt too much for you. The feeling of his mouth, the sting of the cut, the sting of his tongue against said cut. It all hurt and scared you all at once.

He began to suck on the wound for a little while longer before he lifted his head up.

“I knew you were the one for me.”

Based on his statement you knew this wasn’t over for you yet.

[mcx7demonbros]

If You Revolted Against Him

Headcanons + minific

Ft. Diavolo x GN!MC

C/W. Yandere behaviors, demon cannibalism, slight mention of self-harm and desire to attempt suicide, reader is called “good boy/girl”.

You decided to lead a revolt against Diavolo, either because you got bad influence from demons who opposed how Diavolo were running the system (but not his desire for peace) or you wanted the throne for yourself, despite being a human (somehow the crazy idea got into that little brain of yours).

Receiving the news, Diavolo only said one sentence to Barbatos and his officers “Off with Their Head” with an awfully sincere tone.

The Royal Army was dispatched to fight against you. But you proved you could stand your ground, achieving some victories. (That was why you decided to revolt in the first place. If you stood no chance, you wouldn’t have started a war against the Prince).

The Brothers were dispatched to fight you. But they couldn’t become worthy opponents of yours, either because you had become more powerful than them or they couldn’t raise their weapons against you.

Finally, your revolt army arrived at the Devildom’s capital for one last battle.

This time, Diavolo himself and his most elite royal soldiers against you and your rebellion.

Alas, Diavolo was so strong that he crushed your rebellion before any of your men could reach the giant gate to the capital.

You were captured alive by Diavolo himself while all of those who participated in your rebellion were slaughtered before your very eyes.

Most demons were thrilled and excited thinking about what punishment and torture Diavolo would give you until he would be satisfied and finally granted you mercy and let you die, and your flesh and blood would be served to him in the most lavish feast.

But the truth wasn’t like what they had been thinking.

The first time you opened your eyes after the brutal battle, you found yourself in a dark place, so dark that you couldn’t even see your hands, which, you could feel, were bound together by a magical chain. Your legs were given the same treatment. You felt that you were lying on something soft.

Where am I? You asked yourself, but your brain had already given you an answer based logical deduction. It was the dark dungeon under the Demon Lord’s Castle. Now the only thing you could do was waiting for a torture punishment to be carried out.

“MC, I see that you have woken up.”

You knew that voice, it was Diavolo’s. But you did not know where he stood, it was too dark here.

“Ah, let me brighten this place up a bit.” You heard a finger snap and a giant ball of light appeared on top of the two of you.

After the space had been brightened up, you realized you were inside a luxurious room and you had been lying on top of a big bed.

“Wait, this isn’t in the dark dungeon?” You asked.

“Of course not.” Diavolo replied. “This is a room I created with my power. Using magic that only demons of royal blood can do, I placed the room at the deepest layer of Devildom, where no demon dares to come since it’s the place my father is sleeping. He’s sleeping in another room, in case you’re wondering.”

“What…what’s the meaning of this?” You just wanted to scream at him.

“The meaning of this, you asked? MC, have you forgotten? I have told you not once, not twice, not thrice, but multiple times that I wanted to shut you in a dark place where I can keep you for myself. And your rebellion gave me the chance to do just that.”

“Just kill me.” You said. “I would rather die than losing my freedom.”

“No, don’t say that.” Diavolo began to caress your face. “I love you and I would never let you come to harm, either from others or yourself.” Diavolo then took out a tray of food he had stored somewhere using space magic.

“Here, eat something and calm down.”

You turned away, refused to listen to the Crown Prince.

“You have to eat to stay survive though. So EAT!”

Hearing Diavolo’s order, your body suddenly didn’t listen to you anymore. You tried to resist it but couldn’t. You were forcefully turned back to face Diavolo. Your mouth opened wide and and only closed after the Prince put a spoonful amount of food into it. Then, you began to chew the food before swallowing it. Apparently, the Demon Prince had done something to your body while you were unconscious.

“I’m glad you like the food. Let me tell you the origin of this dish. It was made from the meat of your rebellion friend.” Diavolo said as he gave you a smile.

You wanted no vomit now. But Diavolo shushed you. “Now, don’t do that. It’s not good for your health.”

After feeding you all of the food and drink, Diavolo kissed you.

“Good boy/girl.” He said. “I’ll be back.” The demon turned around and left.

“I guess the Brothers and others are trying desperately to find you in the underground dungeon right now. I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they realized that you are no where to be found.” The Demon Prince chuckled.

“One more thing, do not try anything to harm yourself. I have casted a powerful spell on this room which not only prevents others from finding you but also prevents you from harming yourself.” Diavolo said before shutting the door, leaving you alone in the cold room.