#It's just that my old hyperfixation come back and I just had to laugh I don't have the same toxicity anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadowsndaisies · 7 months

Text

codename: nightingale - usual suspects

Reference: Young Justice Season 1 Episode 25

WC: 7.4k

synopsis: fuck cadmus tbh, robin needs to work on his timing, kaldur’s got birdy’s back, and roy finally gets what he wanted

main masterlist

codename: nightingale series masterlist

a/n: guys, there's only one more in the season after this. i cannot belive my little hyperfixation fic of pure self-indulgence has come this far. i love you all so much and your support means so much, especially when i know that i go months without posting but you all come back so excited with each update! xoxo

WASHINTON, D.C.December 30th, 09:16 EST

You were all in the Hall. The mega screen before you shows the official Justice League Induction and announcement playing on every news channel. Wally and Dick were standing on either side of you, and all of you had your eyes glued to the screen.

“The Justice League was formed for two reasons: first, as an acknowledgment that no single individual, no matter how powerful, can solve all the world's problems alone. And second, to uphold the values of truth, liberty, and justice,” Superman was making the announcement this year. Usually, it was him or Wonder Woman, seeing as the Bat didn’t exactly exude charming. “That, uh, last one's even in the name,” Superman muses, gaining a few laughs from the crowd before him. “These five heroes have sworn to uphold those values,” he continues, and the camera pans over Doctor Fate, Plastic Man, the Atom, Icon, and finally, Red Arrow.

Your lip quirks a bit as you stare at Roy. he had sent you a message this morning, reminding you that you could be standing with him today, but you had just laughed and mused that with how badly he’d wanted this, it’s surprising anyone else can stand up there with him, never mind you, who would undoubtedly steal the spotlight. You were happy for him, you were, but you were also bummed. You all had just gotten into a groove with Roy on the Team, even if it was only for a few missions, and once again, he was gone.

“You are watching live coverage of the Justice League's induction of its five newest members,” Cat Grant’s voice pulls your focus back to the News. “Looks like the entire League has shown up to welcome the new blood. Everyone from Batman to Captain Marvel!” she exclaims.

“I’m glad they didn't kick Billy out,” Wally decides, and you can’t help but nod. Dinah had mentioned briefly that there had been a chance he wouldn’t be. “And I love the fact there's a ten-year-old on the League,” he says, taking a bite of his apple.

Dick hangs his head, and you see Kaldur turn toward your redheaded best friend while the new girl, Raquel, turns to you all, “There is?” she asks.

You elbow Wally squarely between his ribs, and he hunches over, “Ow, Birdy!” he groans.

“Way to keep a secret, genius,” you scoff, glaring at him through your blacked-out lenses.

“Hey, she's on the Team now, right?” Wally defends, one arm rubbing at his side while he eats his apple.

“Is this going to be a regular thing, you just blurt out secrets whenever we get new people?” you ask.

Wally has the audacity to look affronted, “I don’t-“

“You told me about the Watchtower,” Zatanna cuts in before he can say anything else, and you snort.

Wally retorts by taking another bite of his apple and glaring at you.

Everyone’s attention shifts back to the screen, “Superman is now handing out official League membership cards starting with Doctor Fate…” You and Dick both step forward briefly to squeeze Zatanna’s shoulder in solidarity, something she smiles gently in response to, and you can feel the comfort she takes from the action in the seconds you’re touching. “…The Atom, Plastic Man, and Icon.”

“You know, I was the one who convinced Icon to become a hero in the first place. I should be celebrating with him, not hidden away in here!” Raquel complains, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“Welcome to our world,” Kaldur laments.

“Well, I suppose there's an upside, too,” Raquel flirts as she eyes Kaldur. Quietly to Rob, you roll your eyes and fake a gag, which gets a silent chuckle out of him.

“Finally, Green Arrow welcomes his former protege, Speedy, now known as Red Arrow, to this roster of heroes,” Cat’s voice continues, but it’s quickly drowned out by your cheers.

“Way to go, Roy!” Wally shouts, pumping a fist in the air.

“At last, he has his wish,” Kaldur nods.

“Woohoo!” you exclaim, smiling at the screen. “The first of us to make it,” you breathe.

“No one'll call him a sidekick anymore,” Dick nods.

“Wait- Since when is being a sidekick a bad thing?” Raquel demands, and you can feel the twinge in the air. “You sidekicks were my inspiration.”

“Well, see, six months ago-“ Robin explains, but he’s quickly cut off when his communicator starts to beep.

You hover over his shoulder to look at what he’s looking at and can’t help but frown. In the background, however, you can hear as Cat Grant finishes her report, “So there you have it. The world's officially a safer place!”

There are tons of questions being shot out to Superman, who was still running the press conference.

“Looks like we can’t stay,” you announce, and everyone turns to you.

“We have a mission,” Robin tacks on, and the shift is evident as we all turn to the Zeta.

SMOKEY MOUNTAINS December 30, 10:48 EST

“Are you sure it's her? I mean, are you absolutely positive?” Artemis asks, and it’s easy to pick up on her anxiety in the enclosed space of the bioship.

After the alert, you quickly got to the cave and changed before loading onto the bioship. The alert in question had been about a Cheshire spotting. After everything that’s happened in the last few months, especially in Taipei and then again in Louisiana, catching her was a top priority for the team.

“See for yourself,” Robin says, displaying the details on the screens in the bioship.

“This is the security footage from the Asheville Regional Airport. Facial recognition confirms that's Jade Nguyen,” you explain, having witnessed the details when they first came through Robin’s wrist computer. “But you've seen her without her mask. What do you think?”

Artemis stares at the screen for a second before her lips tug down, “It's Jade. Cheshire,” she confirms.

“Agreed, but focus on what she carries,” Aqualad hints. “Is that the case you saw in New Orleans? The one that got away?” He asks.

Artemis’ eyes harden, and her jaw sets, “Yes.”

“Okay, I'm guessing from the mug shot that this Cheshire's the bad guy. But what's so important about that case?” Rocket asks.

You have to bite back the urge to say you mean other than the fact that we fumbled the ball and lost it? Luckily, Robin speaks up first.

“Remember the Injustice League?” he asks, pulling up a photo of your friends from the bayou.

“And their giant evil plants? Uh, yeah,” Rocket confirms.

“Evil and Nasty plants,” you mutter lowly, glaring at the photo.

“The Team and the League put them in prison, but their allies still scheme, and whatever is in that containment case seems important to their plans,” Aqualad explains.

“We had a chance to grab it in New Orleans, but someone-“ Wally tacks on, but you interrupt him with a glare that he seems to miss as he focuses on Artemis.

“But we screwed up,” you correct. It was a team mission and the team’s attitudes and environment that culminated in what had happened. You weren’t going to place the blame squarely on Artemis.

Wally’s eyes dart to you, and you quirk a brow challengingly. He, in turn, scoffs and turns back to face the front instead.

“Approaching Cheshire's jet,” M’gann announces.

Everyone’s focus turns to the front, but when you get close enough, you let out a low gasp, and a wave of shock rolls over everyone at the scene of the downed plane. The crash had evidently been rough, but it’s a sharp note of grief that hits you that has you turning to Artemis, who is resolutely not staring at the crash anymore.

“Looks like there were no survivors,” M’gann notes, and your lips tug down as you try to assess the scene from the air.

“We need to go down,” you decide.

“NG-“ Wally’s scoff has everyone turning to you for an explanation.

“We need to check the wreckage,” you state.

“Are you serious?” Rocket asks, eyebrows raised.

“Cheshire and the case are our responsibilities, we check the wreckage,” you affirm.

It’s quiet for a moment before Kaldur speaks up, “open the hatches,” he agrees, and Wally lets out a puff of air, shaking his head, but stands up regardless.

M’gann opens a few drop hatches for those who can’t fly while the rest go ahead.

Soon enough, you’re spread out through the crash, analyzing anything you could find and looking for any indication that Cheshire was still in the plane when it went down or the case itself.

“How come Homeland Security and the N.T.S.B. Aren't all over this?” KF shouts, asking anyone.

“Cheshire's ID was a League alert,” you answer from where you’re crouched near the front of the plane, grabbing the black box and tossing it to Rob.

“Authorities didn't pick it up, and her jet didn't follow its flight plan,” Robin supplied.

“Flew under the radar, literally,” you note, standing back up.

“The Watchtower auto-tracked the jet and recorded the crash,” Robin continued.

“Then why isn't the League here?” Rocket pressed.

“Because our Boy Wonder has hacking skills and arranged to get the alert first,” Zatanna smirked. “Well that, and because Nightingale said to make it so,” she teases, gaining an eye roll from you.

“And because Cheshire and that case represent our unfinished business,” Aqualad corrects.

Superboy moves another part of the plane before asking the question that everyone had been wondering, “Where are the bodies?”

“Here's one. And it is stunning….” a voice all but purrs, grabbing everyone’s attention.

You can’t tell if you’re relieved or annoyed that Cheshire is standing tall, all in one piece, but you’re positive that this was the best outcome you could’ve hoped for, at least you were until the next voice pipped up.

“I am flora, not fauna,” the voice begins, and your gaze shifts as you spot the camouflaged ninjas along the mountainside. “I am foliage, not trees,” it continues, and your gaze keeps moving up, counting the adversaries before stopping on the man in green. “What am I?” The Riddler possesses his question, and you spot Shimmer and Mammoth behind him, too. He snaps his fingers, and suddenly, pylons are popping up from under the snow, and you groan at the realization.

Within seconds everyone is trapped underneath a green dome, “Seriously? A trap? We’re idiots,” you huff, soft enough for only Dick to hear, and he just shakes his head.

“Come on, you can get this. I am shrubbery, not grass. What am I?” The Riddler urges. “I…

“Am bush,” Robin grits, and you don’t hold back the groan that escapes this time.

“Didn't you think we'd be tipped you were on Cheshire's trail?” Riddler asked. “We're tired of your interference, kiddies. This is the end game. Ordered from above and executed by their master strategist, moi.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. There was something about Riddler that screamed Narcissistic Personality Disorder, but that could be something you picked up from Dinah’s files.

“Miss Martian, is everyone linked?” Aqualad asks, and the second you hear him, your hands reach back to your back holster, fingers wrapping around your escrima sticks. “Yes,” she confirms, and you make brief eye contact with Dick, tilting your head slightly to indicate a direction. He responds with the same small action in confirmation. “Go!” Aqualad orders, and everyone splits up.

Zatanna makes her move first while you and Dick rush up behind and around her, “Ekahs siht ebolgwons!” (shake this snowglobe) she chants. Within your pylon-ed dome, snow flurries, creating an excellent interference from any direct attack.

The rest of the team jumps into action, using the moment of surprise and confusion to take on the ninjas.

You’ve just knocked one down when Aqualad speaks up again, “Superboy, the pylons,” he orders, and you risk a glance toward your friend with the S.

“Working on it,” he announces out loud, and you focus back on the enemies before you.

“KF-- cradle?” you inquire as you run up, behind Wally. “Ready,” he confirms, turning and dropping down, proffering his hands.

You run up and, with no hesitation, step into Wally’s grip. He’s pushing your body up a second later, giving you enough air to wail your escrima sticks down on the underprepared shadow. It’s reassuring that Wally will always have your back, even in disagreements. As he falls, knocked out, you quickly scan the rest of the battle and manage to spot as Rocket gets hit.

“Rocket’s down, she needs an assist K, and we’ve got a Shadow two tiers up, with some sort of electric disk device, looks like fatherbox tech to me,” you inform the team.

Robin quickly gets up, knocks out the Shadow, and Kaldur moves for the disk. You almost move to help him when you spot a Shadow coming up behind him, but you see M’gann moving in. You turn back to take on another Shadow, this time with Dick at your back fighting his own, but you see it when Conner launches into the air. You’re waiting for gravity to start pulling him back, but it doesn’t.

“That’s impossible,” you note as you use the electricity feature on a Shadow, who then crumples at your feet.

Robin turns his head, and his eyes widen as he stares at what you are.

“SB, you're flying!” he gasps, and your eyes widen too when you catch him using heat vision a moment later.

In his rage, he seems to miss the results of his attack. Your gaze drops, and you can see the top of Artemis’ head.

“Avalanche!” you shout into the link, hoping she’d cleared out of the way in time. You really weren’t trying to relive the Arctic in the real world. It’s silent for a moment, and then your anxiety takes over, “ARTEMIS!” you’re screaming into the link. “I’m alright!” she confirms, and you let out a breath.

Rob taps your shoulder and gestures up to where Riddler’s still standing, and you nod. The two of you make your way up, targeting Shimmer and effectively knocking her out cold with a mix of a smoke grenade, Robin’s bola, and your well-aimed punch.

With Riddler’s focus on you and Rob, Zatanna floats behind him as the smoke clears, “Tekcajtiarts!” (straightjacket!) she announces, and Riddler’s suddenly restrained, unable to get free.

“No!” he shouts. “I am not the straightjacket type! I am strictly Belle Reve not Arkham!” Riddler argues.

Zatanna huffs out a, “Gag mih!” (gag him!) effectively silencing the Riddler's little tirade.

“Hey Rob, what is broken when you name it?” you ask, a shit-eating grin on your face as you crouch down beside Riddler, who only glares at you in return.

“Silence,” Robin smirks, earning Edward Nigma’s ire.

“Hguone htiw eht ebolgwons,” (enough with the snowglobe) Zatanna’s shout echos’s across the mountain, and suddenly the snow stops.

You all quickly work on the remaining pylons before loading the bioship with Nigma and the captured Shadows.

“Cheshire?” you ask out loud.

“Gone,” Artemis confirms.

“From you? Again?” Wally challenges. “That’s like the third-“

“Enough,” Kaldur cuts in quick. “We need to drop these prisoners off at Belle Reve and return to the Cave, I imagine, the League will want a debrief and an explanation.”

“I guess it’s a good thing, I got the case, though,” Artemis adds, and you can’t help but smile at her.

MOUNT JUSTICEDecember 30, 15:45 EST

You felt like he was staring right at you. Given the whiteouts of his mask, Batman could be glaring at any of you, “Tell me if this sounds familiar. You hacked League systems, disobeyed protocol, and endangered your lives,” he pauses.

You have to fight the wince when you catch Dinah’s eye. She’s standing behind Batman with Red Tornado and Martian Man-Hunter, and she’s got an eyebrow quirked as she stares straight at you.

“And your initiative resulted in the capture of three escaped felons proving Warden Strange runs Belle Reve as a cover for criminal activity…. Well done,” he affirms, and you let out a small breath, gaze darting over to Robin, who quirks his lips in a small smile, one you match.

“And then there's this,” he adds, forcing your attention back as he and Icon approach the case that Artemis had recovered, “Bio-technology integrated with some form of nano-circuitry.”

“Though I am unfamiliar with the species, the bio-component is clearly not of Earth,” Icon confirms.

“We'll take it to the Watchtower for further study,” Batman decides, and the Leaguers head back toward the Zeta.

Canary lingers before walking over to you, mostly everyone else disperses, but you can feel Wally and Kaldur behind you, and Dick’s still at your side.

“I get the feeling that this decision was not made on your own?” she inquires, staring at you.

“I have a team,” you reply loftily. “I don’t have to make these decisions on my own.”

“No, you don’t,” she smiles gently at you, running a hand across your cheek, and then turns to the boys, “and I’m glad to know you see it too.” She says nothing but offers you a pat on the shoulder and turns to the Zeta.

As soon as Canary and Icon zeta out, you turn to the team, shoulders set, “You realize we were set up,” your tone is even, despite the worrisome nature.

“Yes,” Aqualad confirms. “Cheshire and Riddler were tipped and ready for us.”

“They knew we were looking for her, specifically,” you point out, and you can’t help the way your gut swoops.

“Not the mole thing again,” Artemis groans, and your lips turn down. How was it that Roy got to move on, but you were still battling the same demon.

“Mole thing?” Rocket asks, concerned. “Again?”

“We had intel that there was a traitor on the Team,” Wally explains, tone resigned.

“Namely, Artemis, M'gann, or me,” Conner huffs, his bravado cutting through as he steps forward with clenched fists and levels a glare at you specifically.

“It is more complicated than that,” Kaldur argues, placing a hand on Conner’s shoulder.

“And we-“ you gesture between you and Kaldur “-never said that, we only tried to look into the claim to see if it were true,” you argue.

Conner scoffs and shoves Kaldur’s hand away, turning to leave, “But your recent behavior does concern me,” Kaldur adds, following after him. “Your attack on Mammoth nearly got Artemis killed.”

Conner doesn’t respond, though he does stop for a moment. When he winces, your brow furrows, “Conner?” you call cautiously.

“There’s something I need to do,” Conner says, turning back to face you, but his tone is wholly different. “Something I need to tell you,” he admits, and you shift as you pick up the unease of everyone in the room. “Last month, on Thanksgiving, I went back to CADMUS and found a few things out.” Your eye twitches slightly at the mention of CADMUS, but you fight to keep your expression neutral. “When I was cloned, only half the DNA was Superman’s. The other half was human,” he admits, and there’s a shift from everyone else. “That's why I don't have, will never have, full Kryptonian powers.”

Your brow furrows, thinking about what you’d seen today, “You sure? Because you sure seemed to have them today,” Robin teases, voicing your thoughts.

“I've been using these,” Conner says, pulling up his sleeve and showing a patch, “Shields. They suppress my human DNA. I get the flight, the heat-vision, but I think I also get angry. Well, angrier… I’m… sorry,” he explains and only one question comes to mind.

“Conner, where did you get those?” you ask, voice lethal.

Conner winces at the question and your tone but meets your gaze. There’s an honesty there that hasn’t existed in a while, a calmness that stems from finally unloading the truth, “From my human father… Lex Luthor.”

There’s an audible intake of breath from someone behind you, and everyone’s eyes are blowing wide, but you? You’re fuming because if Lex Luthor had that much reach, it meant he must have been the silent bankroller for CADMUS, which in turn means Lex Luthor was responsible for the death of your parents, and that? That was not something you’d be letting go of, not now, not ever.

“Lex Luthor, is your dad?” Dick asks. The surprise is evident, and if not for the topic, it would’ve been a moment to commemorate, catching the Boy Wonder off guard.

“He's summoned me to Santa Prisca,” Conner continues.

The silence is deafening. Your shoulders tense as you try to gather your thoughts, and as you open your mouth to say something about Conner’s decision to keep these things secret, Artemis speaks up.

“Ahhh, listen,” she sighs. “Superboy’s not the only one suffering from bad DNA,” she admits, and you tense further, turning to look at the blond. She pulls up three IDs on the holo-computer before beginning. “My mother is Huntress, an ex-con. The rest of my family aren't even ex. My dad's Sportsmaster, and he's sending my sister, Cheshire, to fly me to Santa Prisca, too.”

You gape at the screen, but it all makes sense: her need to prove something, her secrets, her mother’s desperation, even the reason why Cheshire always seemed to escape when up against Artemis.

“That's why-“ Wally’s voice cracks, and you’re hit with a wave of understanding and regret from the speedster as he stares at the archer.

“Yeah,” she mutters. “I was so desperate to make sure none of you found out. “

“I knew you weren’t GAs niece, but-“ you mumble but stop as eyes shift to you.

“I knew,” Dick negates, and Artemis’ eyes blow wide, and you can’t help but gape at him. “Hey, I'm a detective!” he defends but quirks a smile, “But it never mattered. You aren't your family. You're one of us,” he reminds her.

“You always have been,” you manage to choke out, “nothing to prove,” you remind her, and you can see how the tension melts away from her.

Wally pushes forward and stops beside her. He hesitates on what to say but eventually settles for a small smile, propping an arm on her shoulder and jokingly asking, “So who's next?”

“I am,” comes the somber response from M’gann, and for the first time since the start of these revelations, you watch as she seems to curl up into herself.

“I swear I was kidding,” Wally says desperately, hands up in surrender.

“Queen Bee's been blackmailing me. She wants me in Santa Prisca too,” she admits.

“Blackmailing?” Kaldur repeats as if he hadn’t heard her correctly.

“How?” you press. Your voice is rough, and you notice how M’gann’s not the only one to flinch at it.

“She knows my… true… Martian form,” M’gann admits, but the way she says it makes it seem heavier than your first instinct.

“Bald M'gann? Who cares if-“ Robin wants to make a joke, to lighten the mood, but M’gann cuts him off, and before she shifts, you know why: Bald M’gann had been another cover for a secret she hadn’t been ready to share.

“No,” she interrupts, taking a deep breath before shifting.

If you thought the reactions to Luthor being Conner’s human dad were extreme, it was nothing to how almost everyone reacted to M’gann’s true form. She stood before you, a towering creature, a White Martian. While your information was limited, you had enough to assemble a theory.

You fought not to react, to stand firm and impassive beside Kaldur, just as he did. The only other person not to react was Conner.

There’s a whispered “woah” from Rocket as everyone else releases startled gasps.

“I realized you would never accept me if you saw what I really am,” M’gann tells us, and you ache for her. You struggled sometimes balancing Nightingale and (y/n) Roxo. You couldn’t imagine having kept your true self a secret from everyone, having no one to turn to. It had to have been incredibly draining and lonely… so lonely. Your anger was fading with each revelation, but there was one point where you were still stuck.

“M’gann, did we truly seem so shallow?” Kaldur inquires, and though he sounds the same, you can hear the hurt in his words, the edge you recognize as him questioning his abilities in setting the tone of his leadership.

M’gann crosses her arms, her gaze cast down. Dinah called that stance protecting by avoidance, “I couldn't take a chance,” M’gann admits. “Being a white Martian among the green on Mars, I endured constant rejection….I couldn't face that from-“

“From me?” Conner asks, carefully stepping forward and taking her hand.

The way they stare at each other is enough to tell that they are now having a more private conversation. Dick takes the opportunity to grab your shoulder, forcing you to turn to him, Kaldur doing the same.

“Now might be a good time for anyone else to share secrets regarding CADMUS,” he hints, and your lips part- he hadn’t even bothered to whisper.

“What are you talking about?” Zatanna’s question echoes from behind him, but you standing stock still, staring at him.

“You must be joking,” you hiss as you shrug out of Dick’s grip.

“C’mon, Birdy,” he urges, and you feel Kaldur’s hand on your shoulder.

You shrug off Kaldur, too, before spinning on your heel, pushing past Artemis and Wally and to the computer. Your hands shake a bit while you type, but you pull up everything you have; the news article about your parent’s death, the report on your blood from Dinah and Bruce, and the readings on the genomorphs at CADMUS. You take a deep breath before turning back to everyone now looking at you and at everything you’ve pulled up, eyes jumping between each article and report.

You sniff before reaching into a compartment of your belt and pulling out a mask adhesive dissolution wipe. When you start pulling at your mask, there are a few wide eyes, and when your glare lands on Robin, all he does is smile in return.

“My name is (y/n) Roxo, and when I was six years old, I witnessed the murder of my parents,” you begin. Everyone but Kaldur and Robin focus on you with lips parted and wide eyes. “They were Wayne Enterprises scientists, brilliant actually. They noticed some discrepancies with a project in the labs, cover-ups, and false reports. One had to do with an instance when I was in their lab and was accidentally exposed to whatever the project had been focused on,” You begin. “When we went to CADMUS on the Fourth of July, something about the genomorphs seemed familiar. I later discovered that’s because when I was young, I was exposed to a replication of their abilities, the beginnings of the research that led to the cloning capabilities. It’s what gave me the empath abilities and why J’onn thinks I could manifest further powers, just like the genomorphs have,” you explain.

“Which is why you looked like you were about to whip out some kryptonite when SB here said Luthor was his dad,” Artemis pieced, gaze jumping toward you and Conner. “Because CADMUS-“

“Because CADMUS is his project, and he funded, orchestrated- he was responsible for my parents murder,” you affirm, eyes meeting Conner’s.

“Holy shit,” Wally mumbled, and you couldn’t help but agree.

Conner was staring straight at you despite how focused he had been on M’gann only moments before. His blue eyes were wide as he stared straight at you, his lips parted but closed, and then his expression shifted as he took in the rage in your eyes and again when he saw the hurt. His shoulders sag slightly, and he slowly takes steps forward until he is right in front of you.

“I- I’m so sorry, Bir- (y/n),” he stutters over your name for a second, and you want to hold onto the anger. You want to be mad at him, but his eyes are so open and honest with you right now, and you’re reminded of the Conner who saved you from Cadmus back in July, the one who wanted to do good, to be good.

“It’s not okay, but I don’t… I don’t blame you,” the fact that your blame fell squarely on Lex Luthor went without saying.

He offers a curt nod, “a problem for later?” he adds quietly, and you give a silent nod in affirmation.

“So uh.. I know I’m new, but what now?” Rocket asked, and everyone’s eyes jumped from person to person, waiting for someone to speak up.

“We know that CADMUS has played a much larger role than any of us anticipated when we began this team six months ago, and we know that Superboy, Artemis, and Miss Martian are all expected at Santa Prisca,” Kaldur begins, and everyone’s attention shifts to him. “So we go as a team. Prepared for whatever they may throw at us. The backroom deals and secret alliances end today.”

SANTA PRISCADecember 30, 17:57 ECT

“Superboy’s about to make contact,” M’gann’s voice echoes as everyone focuses on the exchange.

You and Robin were in the bioship with M’gann. At the same time, Kaldur, Wally, Rocket, and Zatanna had taken discreet positions on the island, each of you waiting for the call.

You could feel Robin staring at the back of your head, but you ignored him instead of focusing on what was happening on the ground below you.

“Welcome, Superboy,” Lex Luthor’s voice sets you on edge the second you hear it. Still, you force yourself to watch as Suberboy dismounts the Supercycle. “I'd like to introduce you to my associate, Queen Bee.”

Even though it was expected, your heart begins to speed up a bit in reaction to the developments, “My pleasure,” she greets.

“I believe you know everyone else. Sportsmaster, Mercy, Blockbuster. And our new friend Bane, who's allowed us use of his island in exchange for certain considerations,” Luthor introduces as everyone around him steps forward.

“No one wanted to listen when I said following Bane was a bad idea, and here we are,” you huff into the link, but the rest are silent.

“So the Injustice League was just a distraction. You two have been behind everything from the start,” Conner surmises, painting his expression with shock.

“Heh, a flattering notion, son, but we have many friends,” Luthor sidesteps, and your skin crawls at the way he calls SB son.

“This one of your friends now?” Conner asks as a helicopter begins to approach and then as it lands.

“No, my boy,” Luthor smirks. “One of yours.”

Conner glares at the copter until the door slides open, “Artemis?” the name rings out with a tone of shock, and you roll your shoulders, trying to force yourself to relax.

To her credit, she plays her role well, “The hero thing wasn't working out. You get how it is. No trust,” she scoffs, seemingly indifferent to the developments around her. “This is where I belong,” she adds, and you flinch.

“You’re up, Miss M,” you announce, and she backs the bioship up a bit, making a circle around the island and de-camouflaging the bioship before parking it in the air above the group.

“It's a fast-growing club,” Queen B announces as M’gann descends to the ground.

You reach for the rope, securing yourself to the repeller in preparation for when you’ll all be making your move.

“So… you’re just going to ignore me?” he asks cautiously.

Your glare sharpens in his direction, but it’s difficult to make out with your mask back.

“I know you’re upset that I-“

“Upset? Dick, I’m furious, you pushed me into revealing things they didn’t need to know! Things I trusted you enough to share about, privately!”

“They needed to know!” he argues. “(y/n) you consistently come to the rescue, you throw your life on the line for us, you did it in the Bayou, you did it for Wally in Seattle, you did it last week for me in the Circus. You do it all the time, because you know these things about everyone, you know when they need the support, but no one- outside of Kaldur and I, even had the slightest inclination. They needed to know, because today is more than the conspiracy of the last six months. Today could be the end, of it all, for you. Today could be the answers you’ve been looking for since Dinah took you in.”

“It wasn’t your call to make,” you hiss.

“No, it wasn’t. But this team fights better, fights stronger, when it’s united, and you’ve always been able to make us get our shit together better than anyone else can,” he sighs.

You glare at him but refuse to respond, and his shoulders drop.

“Why are they here?” M’gann’s startled gasp forces you both to look back to the ground from your spots within the ship. “You promised!” she cries.

“I’ve kept your secret and my promise,” Queen B argues, tone deadly. “Now, you keep yours,” when M’gann ducks her head, the monarch smirks, “Good girl.”

“Give me more shields, and I'm in, too,” Conner decides, and your lips twitch down. Espionage was not his forte.

Luthor walks closer and stares at Conner briefly before smirking, “My boy, you're a terrible liar.”

Conner’s eyes blow wide before winding back for an attack. However, before he can, Luthor plays his card, “Red Sun.”

Conner does well with his role. His entire body relaxes, face falling flat, arms hanging limply at his side as he stands straight with a muted expression, staring at Luthor.

“What do you want us to do?” Artemis asks, stepping forward, prodding the meeting along.

Luthor nods his head once, and Sportsmaster gestures to Artemis and M’gann. “You two, follow me.”

“What about Superboy?” M’gann asks, eyes sliding to Queen B.

“He'll be fine. He simply requires a few adjustments…” she trails off.

Everyone but Superboy begins to follow after Sportsmaster, “Bring him along,” Luthor orders, and Blockbuster moves toward Conner.

Your breath catches as you wait to see what happens. You’d all agreed that it’d be Artemis, M’gann, or Conner’s call on when to move, given they were the three in the thick of it. So when Artemis starts running forward, bow in hand before shooting at Blockbuster, trapping him for the moment, before turning around and aiming at her father.

“Sorry, Dad. Wanted to play you like you tried to play me but I can't let them mess with Superboy's head!” she shouted.

“M'gann, be a dear and take Artemis down,” Queen B orders.

You look at Rob as you both step up to the drop-hole.

You let out an audible groan as you stare at the boy across from you, “After,” is all you say.

He nods in affirmation, “milkshakes?” and you nod in agreement.

M’gann lifts Artemis in the air but then uses the distraction to fling Queen B backward and into a tree. She falls to the ground unconscious, and you wait for the verbal confirmation. Artemis shoots a shot at her dad, and then M’gann lets her down.

“Queen Bee is down,” M’gann confirms. “Superboy, you're safe from her control.”

"I may not be much of a liar, but I fooled you,” Conner announced as he approached Luthor.

“And I'm so proud,” Lex states sarcastically. “I take it Miss Martian cleaned Red Sun from your mind?”

“And confirmed Nightingale, Aqualad, Robin and Kid Flash rescued me from Cadmus before you had time to install any other programming,” Conner shoots back.

Luthor sighs, “All true. Personally, I blame Dr. Desmond.”

As if verbally queued, Blockbuster frees himself from Artemis’ trap, charging at Superboy.

You observe as Bane’s goons start engaging, and the supercycle quickly lays down cover fire while SB gets busy with Blockbuster.

Artemis and M’gann alternate between defense and offense until, “Guys, reinforcement time,” the blonde calls.

Rocket and Wally are the first two to make it to everyone, and you glance at Rob, “Ready?”

“Go,” he confirms, and you both drop-down, trusting the rope and the bioship as you go. You yank the stop when you’re only a few feet off the ground, and both you and Robin stop abruptly before releasing yourselves, dropping to the ground and landing agilely on your feet.

You take a second to scan your surroundings. You spot Kaldur facing off with Luthor and his assistant, an unconscious Queen B in his arms. You turn instead to take on some of the goons. You and Rob were methodical in knocking down person after person, you hear the cocking of a gun behind you, and you turn with wide eyes,

“Ekoms dna srorrim!” (smoke and mirrors!) Zatanna chants and the gun turns to smoke, which then turns into a giant serpent, winding its way around the goon’s body. “Egnahc ekans otni sgnidnib!” (change snake into bindings); she continues, and the snake becomes a rope.

You’re frozen in surprise for a second, but that’s knocked away when Bane appears and charges at Robin, Zatanna, and you simultaneously.

“Shit!” you manage to grit out in surprise.

Your hands start moving blindly, a hand going to your hip where your grapple is. You quickly twist the cord out of the gun before whipping it and your arm out to the side in an arc. The tensile strength of the cable is enough to stop Bane as he falls forward with the three of you.

You and Rob push him off and to the side. Robin covers you while you quickly peek at Zatanna, who seems knocked out. You look up in time to see Bane get back up and start fighting with Robin. You're on your feet when he gets pushed back, facing off against Bane.

“Hola Chicita, it’s been some time,” he teases, head tilting down at you.

“Not nearly long enough, Bane,” you huff.

“Etaerc Elagnithgin Snoisulli!” (create nightingale illusions) Zatanna’s rushed chant whips through you, and you can feel the prickle of her magic as it washes over you, and suddenly, there are dozens of you all facing Bane.

Bane’s surprise is visible as he scans each and every duplicate of you. "Gotta love an army of NG,” Rob smirks as he pushes himself up.

You smirk in return and pull out your ring daggers, several duplicates doing the same or arming themselves with escrima sticks and marble bombs before you’re all running at Bane. He gets distracted by the ones jumping up at him directly and misses when the true you slip around him with one of your blades out. You cut through his tubes of Venom, weakening him. Then you turn with an escrima stick crackling with electricity and plant it firmly at the base of his neck, watching with satisfaction as it brings him to his knees and then as he collapses.

You pull back, and with the moment you have, you take in a deep lungful of air, finally able to breathe. As you look around, you realize the fighting has stopped. Artemis and KF are standing by an unconscious and tar-trapped Sportsmaster. Superboy, Miss M, and Rocket are posted up by Blockbuster. You stare down at Bane as you realize who isn’t still here, and Robin joins you a second later.

“NG?” his voice is hesitant, as he notices how you’re gripping your escrima stick and dagger, your body tense, as you stare at Bane.

“He got away,” your voice cracks as you say it, and your fists clench tighter. "Luthor-"

When Robin touches your shoulder, you both recoil quickly; his lips part as he stares at you and his hand.

“I.. I felt-“

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, tugging on all the strings threatening to burst free, trying to cram your emotions back in their place to keep them from leaking out and affecting everyone around you. You drop your weaponry, hugging yourself as you try to compact your feelings.

A different hand lands on your shoulder. When you turn your head, you see Kaldur beside you. You can feel yourself unraveling just as fast as you attempt to stuff it all down.

“Stop,” you say as you attempt to shrug him off.

“It is okay to feel angry, my friend,” he reminds you, eyes burning with the same rage you feel, and you know in that second that it is the same rage, it is your rage, that he’s taking it on, for you.

“Kaldur, stop, that’s not- you shouldn’t-“ you huff, but with each move back, he follows, until suddenly he’s holding you in a tight hug, and you can’t move anymore. “Stop,” you beg, gripping on to his arms.

“Allow us to help, epitrépste mou na sikóso aftó to város. stiríxou páno mou, chrisimopoíise ti dýnamí mou, méchri na anaktíseis ti dikí sou. Eímai statherós, paliós fílos. (let me carry this burden. lean on me, use my strength, until you regain your own. I am steady, old friend).”

His words wash over you, and you finally do that. You stop pushing against the bits that are bleeding. You can feel Kaldur stiffen when he finally feels the whole barrage of your emotions, but quickly, he tightens his hold on you. When tears start to fall from both of you, all you can do is sag into him in relief.

“Den eínai díkaio. Xéfyge. Tha éprepe na eínai edó. Tha éprepe na logodotísei gia ta enklímatá tou, ton rólo tou. Échoun fýgei kai eínai exaitías tou. Eímai tóso kourasménos kai tóso thymoménos, to niótho óli tin óra kai prospathó tóso sklirá na min to afíso éxo. Allá giatí eínai eléftheros?” (It's not fair. He got away. He should be here. He should have to answer for his crimes, his role. They're gone and it’s because of him. I am so tired and so angry, I feel it all the time, and I try so hard not to let it out. But why does he get to be free?) the words tumble from your lips in sobs of atlantean.

Part of the truth you’re admitting was too raw to admit to everyone else, none of the sidekicks had ever seen your anger, your rage— Kaldur had. Kaldur was the one who he lped you learn how to manage it. He was the one who taught you, the one who showed you how to channel it into something better.

“Thýmose, Poulí, tha diatiríso tin isorropía kai gia tous dýo,” (Be angry, Bird, I will maintain the balance for us both) he answers, his voice as calm as ever, and you can’t help but marvel at him, how he can hold your anger, your hurt, your rage, but present as calm, and keep it from seeping out when you can’t do anything but make a mess.

You know the team’s watching. You know they’re concerned and want to tell them it’s okay, that you’re okay, but you’re not. You know that. Dinah would know what to say and how to tell the team that they did a good job and that they should enjoy the win, but you can’t. You can’t tell them that you can’t enjoy it, not when the mastermind of it all managed to escape.

Quietly, Kaldur helps you back onto the Bioship. Vaguely, you hear the conversations happening around you.

“It is always like this,” Rocket scoffs, dropping into her seat.

“Told you,” Wally chimes, but you can feel his gaze on you.

“Hey, disaster averted. Feeling the aster,” Robin muses as he settles next to you but keeps a distance.

“Agreed, this has been a good day,” Kaldur nods, fists clenched as he turns to you, “but it is not the end.”

“No,” you ground out in confirmation, and you can feel the promise in his words, “it’s not.”

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moongreenlight · 4 months

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Greek mythology/the Olympians has been my hyperfixation for going on two decades now and I just… Soap as Dionysus.

Always brings a good bottle of wine and a few rooted cuttings of ivy as a housewarming gift. If he’s fixed his attention on you, he’ll also put a few sex toys in the little bag he brings. Puts them right on top for the pleasure of seeing your scramble to try to shove them in a drawer or tuck the whole gift in the closet.

He’s a great time. Has this intoxicating way about him. Like life is a stage and he’s the director. Playful and fun, though a little too enthusiastic at times. Handsy when the two of you hang out. You assume that’s just his nature and excuse it accordingly. Hard not to, gorgeous man that he is. A divine kind of handsome. Like his features are an eons-old amalgamation of all the most beautiful features humans have ever had.

And he gets strangely possessive, even after you’ve been nudging back his wandering hands or putting your hand between his mouth and your neck all night. Borders on vindictive and aggressive if he’s not in the right headspace.

It’s a bit terrifying to see him snapping his teeth in the face of some man at the bar who had only just asked you if you’d wanted a drink. You swear later in the night you see him babbling feverishly to a group of his friends. It sounds like total gibberish, and his friends look even more confused than you feel, but his eyes are wide as saucers and his hands are flying about hazardously. You don’t think much of it after Soap pulls you by the waist to the corner booth and tips a cocktail up to your mouth.

He keeps you out until all hours of the night. Insists on staying jovial. Club-hopping to find the best crowd, best music, best conversation. Keeps you up and active for so long that the confines of reality start to become fuzzy at the edges.

Sexuality expressed through bodies writing and twisting in drunken dance. Bumping up against one another. Collecting strangers and your own sweat in fat beads on your skin that make you shiver when they get heavy enough to trail down the small of your back.

When the room is spinning enough to make you stumble just a bit and you’re unable to do anything but giggle about it, he’s somehow able to make sneaking off into the family bathroom together seem like a good idea. He seems just as drunk as you are, slinging an arm around your shoulders when you walk. Bellowing a laugh when his hand grazes your tit but making no attempt to pull it away.

It’s less easy to be oblivious when you’re in the bathroom together. The muffled music filtering through the bottom of the door. He’s pressing up against you even though now there’s no crowd to excuse his practically grinding his groin on your hip.

It smells like sweat and generic brand bathroom cleaner. You hum when he staggers to the urinal instead of griping at him about how crass it is to take a piss right in front of you. He props himself up on the wall with one hand and a moment after you hear the teeth of his zipper come undone, he lets out a throaty, satisfied groan.

You busy yourself looking in the mirror. Checking your makeup. Seeing if you look as drunk as you feel. It’s filthy. There’s a web of cracks coming from the bottom left where it looks like someone tried to send their fist through to the wall behind it. It makes you a bit dizzy to look at and you have to bend at the waist to get close enough to see the way your mascara has smudged all around your eyes.

And all of a sudden there’s a burning heat behind you. Sickly, feverish heat pressing straight into the pillows of your ass. Soap’s spidery reflection shows up just over your smile sporting a wicked grin. Teeth and eyes flashing.

You try and swat him away, all too used to his comings-on, but he digs his fingers into the fat of your hips bruisingly hard.

“C’mon, hen. Been driving me mad all night. Relax a bit. Jus’ need this. Need you. Please.”

He has to lay flat over your back to hiss in your ear. Teeth clenched like he really needs to put some effort behind his words to sound polite. Like a petulant child who’d just been reminded by their mother to practice manners.

You were practiced in batting back his advances, but for some reason his grit made you falter. His gaze seemed to be burning a hole through you in the mirror. The idea that something inside him was hitting a roaring boil that he couldn’t stop from flowing over made your brain go foggy. The opposite of sobering. His aberrant need was contagious and catching quick.

He smelled like sweat and cheap cologne and dry, sweet wine and woods. Flirty and masculine and overwhelming. And he’s warm and strong behind you, even if he’s pushing his hard cock into you.

Who were you to deny him the pleasure of snapping his hips into your backside a few times? Letting his fingers impatiently tug at the button of your jeans and hastily tug them down with your underwear until they pooled around your ankles?

It didn’t help that the sound of him sending a glob of spit into his hand made you clench around nothing. A familiar warmth gathering between your thighs that made you shift a bit to chase the momentary relief even a touch of friction could provide.

He couldn’t even afford you the decency of pretending not to see. No. Instead he points a spotlight on you and insists you perform for him again. Nudging your legs apart and pressing his thigh flush against your core while purring the filthiest things in your ear.

“Ken I jus’ needed to wear you down, mm? Thought ‘bout this before we went out. Always did get sloppy when you drink. Jus’ needed a little push. That’s it -Jesus- cunt’s so wet. Gonna take good care of her.”

And the club is so packed full of drunken, dancing bodies that hardly anyone notices the way you two stumble out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Even though you’re still fumbling with the button of your jeans with shaking hands.

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film-bro-hotch · 1 year

Text

Victim of a Bad Habit - Hotch x Fem!Reader -- one shot

This is completely self-indulgent and simply because my brain is hyperfixating on Love and Human Remains. Please enjoy

Synopsis: You grew up with Hotch. You always knew him as the cocky asshole who slept around. The two of you were in a weird friends-with-benefits-type relationship. You kept it up through high school and would hook up during winter and summer breaks from college when you were both home. You hadn’t seen or heard from him since graduation, and honestly you hadn’t thought of him Not until he showed up at your job one day, asking questions about a recent murder.

Warnings: smut 18+, oral sex (f receiving), consent king Hotch, flashbacks mixed with pining, smoking, Hotch is an asshole, you are an asshole, I think that’s about it

WC: 3.6k

You were running as quickly as you could, or at least as quickly as the mix of your heels and Philly potholes would allow. You slept in a little later than usual and had to skip your morning coffee, just trying not to be late. You looked down at your watch. 9:03. Okay, you just had a couple more blocks to go. Maybe your editor wouldn’t notice that you weren’t at your desk yet.

Crossing one more street and taking large strides to maneuver the crosswalks of downtown Philly, you managed to make it to the newsroom at 9:09. The hustle of the place was normal. There was always someone running around, someone on the phone making calls. What you weren’t expecting to see was a couple of police officers and men in suits.

Sure, talking to cops was part of your job as a reporter, but you usually spoke to them on the phone, over email, or you went to them. Cops rarely ever come to you.

“You’ll want to talk to Ms. L/N. She is the one that ran the story. Her editor should be here soon as well.”

So your editor wasn’t there yet, perfect. But the cops wanted to talk to you. You ducked into the hallway to your office, trying to make it seem at least like you weren’t ten minutes late. You were logging in to your computer when you heard a knock on your door and someone say, “Ms. L/N?”

When you turned from your chair, the last person you expected to see was your old go-to hookup, Aaron Hotchner.

“Holy shit,” you said in disbelief. “If it isn’t the biggest asshole I know. It’s been a minute, Hotchner. You really know how to keep a girl waiting.” What you hadn’t accounted for, though, was change. His lips were creased in a tight line, and annoyance seemed to be pressed permanently into his face. His partner looked more shocked than Aaron did, though there was some amusement behind it.

“Excuse me?” his voice made it sound more like a command than a question.

“What? Would you have rather I called you a whore?”

His partner’s snort of either shock or laughter interjected before he could say anything. “You two know each other?” he asked, his voice wavering a bit like he was trying to hold back a laugh.

“Old friends,” you said.

“Former classmates,” he said at the same time, earning your raised brow.

“Okay,” his partner said, clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I haven’t had coffee yet. You want some coffee?”

“I would love some coffee,” you say. “Cream and sugar is fine.”

The other agent gave a nod and looked over to Hotch, but he only gave a firm shake of his head. He looked back to you, smiling in a way that told you he knew at the very least that the two of you messed around back in the day. “I’ll have that right out sweetheart,” he said before closing the door and heading down the hall.

You stood from your chair, moving a little closer so you could lean on your desk, arms crossed. “So, law enforcement?”

“FBI, actually,” he said dully.

“A Fed? Damn, you really made something of yourself…but it seems you got a little boring in the process.”

He bristled at that. “I am not boring.”

“Maybe not boring, but compared to the Hotch I know, this guy is…well, I have yet to see that shit-eating grin you used to always have.”

“People change.”

“That much?”

You weren’t sure how, and you weren’t going to ask, but somehow Aaron had gotten the keys to the theater’s rooftop. He was smiling like a fool as he climbed up the ladder, taking your hand and pulling you up the rest of the way.

“You sure no one is going to call the cops on us? I would rather not have to explain to my parents that I was caught having sex on someone else’s private property,” you said, giving him a critical look. You thought he was crazy when he suggested this, and he probably was. But you said yes anyway.

“Oh come on, live a little, Y/N.” He already had a cigarette in his mouth and was in the process of starting his lighter. When he managed to light it, you plucked it from his mouth, feigning annoyance.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you to wait on a lady?” you asked.

“You’re considered a lady?” he countered, earning him a rough shove to the chest, but you were both laughing.

“You can be such a dick sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah. Keeps the people I don’t like away,” he mused, taking the cigarette from your lips and replacing its warmth with himself. His lips brushed yours, feeling the bump from where his lips were starting to chap. It was getting colder, and he more than likely forgot to put on a moisturizer. It was almost a surprise to you considering he was always preening himself. You pressed yourself into his arms, feeling his stubble brush against you.

“Good thing I tolerate assholes,” you mused before going right back to the kiss.

Well, he was certainly still an asshole. Just one that grated your nerves a little bit more. You had a feeling that he wouldn’t tell you what changed, what seemed to make him such a different person. Was it really the job?

“Okay, fine. What does the FBI want anyway?” you asked, tilting your chin up a little bit. You could be pompous too.

“The recent string of murders,” he started, and you nodded.

“I know. I’ve been covering them,” you interjected, mostly just to get on his nerves. Which you did, it seemed.

“Your article about the one two nights ago, it had some information that came from anonymous sources. We need to know who those are.”

“Ah ah ah, it isn’t that easy, Hotch. I take my sources very seriously. I’m not just going to give them to you.”

“Why not?” he seemed more in disbelief than anything

Oh? Why not? You couldn’t help the smirk on your face. He sounded like a spoiled child who didn’t get his way.

His partner came back in then, holding two steaming cups. He handed one over to you which you gladly took. Toying with Hotch really was exhausting. “Thank you…I don’t believe I ever caught your name.”

“Hotch didn’t introduce me while I was gone? Seems like he’s slacking. I’m Agent Dave Rossi,” he said, extending his hand. You happily took it, not bothering to look at Hotch as you did it. You knew how bruised his ego was, and you loved kicking it while it was down.

You leaned back against your desk, one arm across your body still and the other holding your cup of coffee. “As I was saying, I can’t just give up my sources, no matter how much you say it is going to help you in your case.”

“And if I get a subpoena for you?” Aaron challenged.

“Listen, I don’t expect you to understand, but anonymity is something we take very seriously. If I grant my sources that, they will get it. And if I get subpoenaed, what do you think is going to happen? Like every other journalist, my paper has funds for this kind of stuff already set aside. I’ll have to pay a fine or spend a little time in jail, so what?”

“So what? Do you not care about justice being served? About protecting the community you are writing to?” Hotch asked, an edge to his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“Maybe if you did your jobs a little better, reporters wouldn’t have to worry about that.”

You seemed to really have struck a nerve then. His jaw clenched, and he looked at Rossi. “We are done here,” he said before storming out of the room. Rossi offered you a half smile, pulling out his wallet and handing you two cards, what you assumed were their business cards.

“If you change your mind. Oh, and thanks for the coffee,” he said as he turned, closing the door to your office on his way out.

You only had a few classes with him in high school, and to be honest you really didn’t talk when you saw each other. You both had your circles you ran in, and they didn’t overlap. Sometimes you would give the other a nod in the hallway. It was known that Aaron got around. Some rumored that it was not just with girls, but you didn’t care about that. It wasn’t any of your business anyway.

You simply took the time he would have with you and relished in them when you could. You were usually out late in some part of town or your room when your parents were gone, which was more often than not. You never went to his place. No one ever did.

One of the last times the two of you did anything together, you were both 22 and on break from college. It was just a couple of months away from graduation. He had just gotten into the law program at George Washington. You were lying on the roof of that same theater. You don’t think he ever got rid of the key he had back in high school.

The two of you had been drinking, and you were sharing a cigarette. Your hands were in his hair as you asked, “You really want to do this? Go into the whole law thing? You can’t exactly sleep around being a lawyer.”

“Sure I can,” he said with that stupid grin, “name a lawyer who doesn’t.” He had a point there. Your free hand was still running through his fluffy black hair.

“I mean it. Like, do you think you’ll enjoy it?”

“Law is black and white. There is a right and a wrong. It’s that kind of simplicity that draws me to it. I don’t have to think when I work, so I can spend every moment outside of it pondering everything like I always have been.”

“And this thing we are doing? Trespassing and all that, right or wrong?”

“Oh, very wrong, but that’s what makes it fun.”

That was the last time you saw that devious smile of his. No trace of it was on whatever you saw today. You wanted to know what happened to the man you once knew, the man that had such an annoying grin that somehow managed to make you smile. You shook your head. You had gone years without thinking of him, you can go the rest of your life pretending it didn’t happen.

You spent the rest of your day working like usual, calling sources for your next article, brainstorming new ideas. Even with his business card shoved to the back of your desk drawer, you felt called to it, to him. You had gotten most of your things in your bag, ready to leave for the day. Even at the door you felt you were missing something. You knew what it was, but you also knew you couldn’t leave without it. “Fucking bastard,” you muttered under your breath, grabbing the card and shoving it into your pocket. For safe keeping.

When you got back to your apartment, you threw your stuff on the kitchen table like most days, lounging and deciding that dinner would be something you thought of later, that today was far too tiring to think of what to cook. You stayed like that for a long while, surfing the tv channels and finding nothing that was satisfying. Nothing could seem to take your mind off of him and the way he was nothing like the man you remembered. Against your better judgment, you pulled out the business cards, deciding to give Hotch’s partner a call.

He picked up after the first couple of rings. “Agent Dave Rossi.”

“Hey, this is Y/N L/N, the reporter from the newspaper. I know it’s a little late, but I was wondering if I could talk to one of you.”

You could have sworn you felt his smirk through the phone. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. If you would like to come to us, we are staying at the Marriott on 2nd Avenue.”

Just down the street from you. “That would be perfect. 30 minutes okay?”

“Sounds great. Room number is 317.”

You said goodbye and hung up the phone, grabbing your keys and wallet, shoving them into the tote bag you usually kept in the kitchen. You could just grab some dinner on the way back. If you were talking to Rossi then maybe it wouldn’t last too long. You left your house, walking along the sidewalk a few blocks away until you reached the hotel. It was nothing fancy, pretty standard really. You figured people wouldn’t exactly like their tax money being spent on housing federal agents in 5-star luxury hotels every case they had. If only that was true, that would be quite the story. You take the elevator up to the third floor, hanging a left and finding the room with relative ease. You knocked, stepping back and waiting for Rossi to answer.

But the man that opened the door was not Rossi, and he looked nearly as shocked as you.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his shock turning to annoyance.

“I called Agent Rossi…said I wanted to talk. This was the room number he gave me.” You should have expected this. He seemed to eat up the little bit of the interaction he saw between you and Hotch earlier today.

Hotch seemed to think for a moment, but finally he stepped back from the door. “Rossi isn’t even here. He’s back at the police station working on paperwork. Just come in and we can talk,” he said, giving you room to step in. It was then that you noticed he had changed into more casual clothes. A George Washington Law School sweatshirt and some sweatpants. He looked like he was about to go to bed.

“Listen, I’m really sorry for earli-” you had started, but he cut you off.

“It’s fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” His tone said otherwise. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees. There was a long moment of silence between the two of you, a tension that the other seemed to refuse to break. You were the first one to speak.

“What changed?” you asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Everything about you. It’s like you are a different person,” you would have continued, but his agitation stopped you.

“Jesus Christ, not this! Can’t you just deal with the fact that I’ve grown up and you haven’t!” he snapped.

“I haven’t grown up?” you asked, baffled.

“You called me a fucking whore in front of my coworker!” Well, he had a point there.

“I know that was uncalled for, and I’m sorry, but I called you an asshole, that’s different.”

“No, it isn’t!”

“I’m trying to fucking apologize, Aaron! Would you just let me?!” That was the first time you had raised your voice at him, and it seemed the two of you had run out of steam. You were both quiet, neither wanting to challenge the words that hung thick in the air.

“What changed, Aaron?” you asked again.

He was silent for a long moment, his eyes not meeting yours. His gaze was fixed on the floor, his eyes deciding that it was much more interesting than facing you. “I was a stupid kid, Y/N,” he started. “I didn’t know what I was getting into. I didn’t think I would care. I saw so many cases go through my door as a prosecutor, and I felt like even though I was serving justice, I wasn’t making any difference. I wasn’t saving any lives. I felt - I was so lost. I went through high school and college coasting, and I was so lost.”

You were quiet as you moved closer, placing a hand over his. You felt his calloused edges, and his fingers brushed over your cuts and scrapes. “Still picking at your fingers?” he asked, finally meeting your eyes.

“We all have our bad habits,” you said, your fingers finding themselves lacing with his.

“Mind if I pick this bad one back up again? Just this once?” he looked up at you, and you could feel a part of your past self smile. There was still a hint of him there. You took your free hand, running it through his hair. It was shorter now, parts of it stiff from a little bit of a heavy hand at the styling gel.

“Please,” you found yourself whispering. Your breath was taken out of you as he pressed his lips to yours, your hand still in his hair and gripping the back of his head as you pulled him closer. His weight pushed you into the plush hotel mattress, still holding on to his hair. You winced a little, his teeth colliding with your bottom lip as he tried to deepen the kiss, and you couldn’t help but laugh a little. You could hear his soft chuckle against your lips, feel the way his laugh made his chest shake. You started to move away from his lips, your kisses peppering the corner of his lips, down to his jawline, but he pulled away abruptly. You expected regret, for him to tell you to get out and not call him again. But when you saw his face, you saw that stupid, shit-eating grin he had been missing.

“I think I owe you a little something. For being a bit of a dick, I mean.”

“A bit?” You asked, raising your brow, but he didn’t give you time to complain. His lips were on your jawline now, slowly moving lower to your neck, staying in a few places a little longer, with the intent to leave a mark no doubt.

He worked devilishly, moving to your collarbone. You went to unbutton your top, but he stopped you. “Ah ah ah, my job.”

Oh, damn him. His fingers were agonizingly slow, going one button at a time, leaving a kiss at each place that had once been covered. When he reached your breasts, one hand slipped to your thigh, the other taking hold of your bra strap. “Is this okay?” he asked, pulling away from his work to look at you.

“Keep going,” you breathed out. His hand slipped behind you, unclasping your bra with an ease that surprised you despite his known history. He pulled it off your body, leaving your breasts exposed for him. His lips continued their journey, one hand gripping your left breast while his lips toyed with your right. You couldn’t help the high pitched yelp of surprise when you felt his teeth graze your nipple. “Aaron,” you managed, feeling yourself squirming underneath him. You could feel a heat growing between your legs, one that you tried to stifle by keeping your thighs closed.

Of course he noticed, and you could nearly feel his smirk in his kisses, the way he moved from your breasts down to your navel, stopping occasionally to leave his mark. He looked up at you then, asking for permission to go further, and you nodded. “Your words. Use them,” he scolded. If you were in any other situation, you would have rolled your eyes, but at that moment you needed him, so you gave in and said, “Yes.”

His fingers were nimble as they unclasped your belt, unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down, throwing them to the side. Next was your underwear which in his eagerness he nearly ripped. You opened your mouth to complain but stopped as he moved closer, placing your knees on his shoulders and starting the real work. You nearly came undone by his first touch, something he was surely going to tease you for later. One hand was still on your thigh, gripping hard enough it was sure to leave a mark come morning. He kissed the most vulnerable parts of you, slowly pulling you apart like an intricate braid that only he knew the secrets to. You could feel yourself building, and Hotch could too. He pulled away just long enough for you to groan, your body begging for his return. “Aaron,” you called, hearing him laugh from between your legs.

“So impatient,” he toyed.

“Asshole.”

“You already knew that one.” It only took a few more waves of his devilish hand to bring you to your peak, gripping the cheap, white bed sheets and crying out, gasping to regain your breath. You could hear your heart thumping in your ears, a sound that nearly overwhelmed you when Hotch came back up, grinning like a fool and kissing you. Tasting yourself on his lips, your hands back to his hair and his hands cradling your face. It all felt so right, and for a moment it felt like you had that Hotch back.

“You think we could keep this bad habit up?” you asked, still trying to catch your breath. Hotch just gave a little laugh and shook his head.

“No, I don’t think we will.”

“Glad we are on the same page,” you breathed as you kissed him again.

The two of you laid like that for a while, sharing the occasional kiss but mostly just staying in each other’s arms for as long as time allowed. You still weren’t sure if you would be there come morning, but that didn’t matter. You would be back one of these days. You were both victims of bad habits.

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gilly-moon · 9 months

Note

For the ask prompt:

Introducing them to their special interests/hyperfixations

And/or

Pure genuine laughter, because these two would go really well hand in hand I think!

~harley

I only now realized that I don't think I've ever done little one-off drabbles like this before, so it was harder than expected to keep it short! Super fun exercise in little character moments tho ♡

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack’s first mistake was mentioning he had only seen a handful of horror movies.

His second was letting Pitch sit him down for a marathon of his favorites.

They’d gone through the trouble of tracking down a local rec center, ensuring it was empty for the night before dragging out the old box TV on its cart and getting comfy on a couch that could’ve been older than the building itself. Pitch brought the movies, and Jack reluctantly brought himself.

He wasn’t a scaredy-cat, or so he’d insisted to Pitch. The few horror movies he’d seen might’ve caught him off guard with a jump scare or two, but he’d never left them scared.

Turns out he’d just been watching the wrong ones.

Really, he should’ve expected it. Why would he ever think that asking the King of Nightmares to show him some horror movies would be a breeze? A little gore, a little suspense, no big deal, right? Instead, he’d found himself halfway into a psychological hellscape of a movie and realized exactly what he’d gotten himself into.

When the credits rolled on the first film, Jack turned to Pitch with wide eyes and asked him flat-out if he’d been doused with Nightmare sand and if - pretty please - he could wake up now. Pitch just grinned evilly and stood up to put the next movie in. But then Jack made some throwaway comment about horror movies being gratuitous fear-fests, and something shifted in Pitch’s expression. Remote still in hand, he stood with his arms crossed and sternly said, “Now listen here, Frost,” before launching into a lecture about the complex and difficult art of instilling fear in an audience.

And the more Pitch talked, the more of Jack’s fear slipped away. So even after Pitch sank back onto the couch to start the movie and fear filled the air again, Jack scooted a little closer and found every opportunity to poke him with questions.

Without fail, Pitch always had an answer. He talked at length about when and where it was most effective to use violence or gore, how best to use a character’s fears against them, or the intent of a scene in creating psychological unease in both the protagonist and the audience. By the time the third film was playing, he began pointing things out unprompted, and had entirely forgotten that his initial intent was seemingly to watch Jack drown in his own fears.

Jack was utterly captivated. He’d never seen Pitch speak so passionately about anything, aside from the occasional rant about the Guardians and Manny. A scene that might’ve had Jack tucking into his sweatshirt and staying there til morning shifted from frightening to fascinating as Pitch broke down piece-by-piece how the film had foreshadowed everything without ever allowing the audience to suspect the horror to come.

Metallic eyes locked on the screen, Pitch didn’t seem to notice that Jack had been watching him instead of the movie by the time the last film was coming to an end. He was too busy rambling about the plot, rising from the couch to retrieve the disc.

“Humans are surprisingly adept at supplying inspiration for their own worst nightmares,” Pitch said, turning just so to make his irises gleam from the blue TV screen. “Though I prefer to think their inspirations are a product of my own meddling while they sleep. Don’t you?”

Jack blinked, considering the films they’d just watched and trying to imagine all their horrors coming directly from Pitch himself. It was a far easier task than he should’ve been comfortable with.

“I almost forgot for a sec there,” he said with a faint laugh, “you’re like…insane, insane. Like, cult leaders and torturers would be begging you for ideas if they could.”

Pitch raised an eyebrow, looking over Jack curiously from where he stood. “And yet you still choose to spend time with me.”

Jack shrugged, crossing his legs underneath him. “Look, I’m the fun Guardian, not the smart Guardian.”

And the laugh that escaped Pitch then made Jack light up like the moon. It was brief, but it was real. Jack could sense it, that pure sound that welled up in the tall shadow of a man and escaped him before it could be stopped. Jack reveled in it, and how rarely he heard that laugh unless it was darkened by cynicism or mischievous intent.

“Well, I appreciate you indulging me,” Pitch said after clearing his throat. He strode back to the couch, looming over Jack as the first beams of dawn began breaking through the curtain. “Though I must admit, I was hoping to taste more of your fears tonight. Shall I leave you with a Nightmare instead to remember me by?”

Jack shot to his knees, startling Pitch just enough for Jack to grip the front of his robe and successfully tug him down into a quick kiss.

“Not a chance in hell, Boogeyman,” he murmured against those scalding lips.

Before Pitch could recover, the winds where whisking Jack out the door, escaping from the shadows with a laugh.

#blackice #my writing

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magical-mogai · 9 months

Text

my dyke flag.

heya, folks. lilith of magical-mogai here, to talk about something i made. a flag, to be specific.

for the past four years i've struggled with the words lesbian and dyke. at first i felt connected to both! then dyke lost its appeal and i became just a lesbian, and i was... fine with it for a while, i think?

then about two years ago, i started to distance myself from the online queer community. i still had an off-and-on mogai hyperfixation, but i was just so sad, to put it bluntly. i couldn't find where i belonged, even in the community about belonging. even when i made my own labels, i'd never be able to check off all the tiny boxes that made me feel seen. i never was what i expected to be, in any way.

overall i started to slip from labels, as a whole.

i called myself a lesbian in front of my friends who i knew wouldn't get it, but in private i tried the words "queersbian", queer, "lesbiqueer", about every combination i could make without having to call myself a dyke.

then for a while, i just let the question go unanswered. what am i? gay, i guess? i think? i let it be a question, and i found comfort in that.

eventually i came back to the word dyke. and left. then came back again. and again. and again and again and again until i couldn't deny its presence in my identity anymore.

and even then i still did. so i called myself bi for a bit. tried it out, worked through the preconceptions i had of bisexuality, and tried to ignore the weird feeling it always left in my mouth to call myself bi.

i met other queer people in the real world. old trans people, those who dont call themselves anything, a lesbian married to a man, bi girls who only date men, trans men with husbands who call themselves straight, everyone who i at one point (shamefully) tried to recategorize in my brain to fit my view of the world, and i just accepted them as they were.

so eventually, i too tried to accept that i was just bi, but i realized that i was just... wrong. all of a sudden i knew that i was going off a label i THOUGHT should fit, not the one that did.

so i came back to dyke.

and i looked for a dyke flag, something to proudly display on my wall, but found lesbian flags. and gay flags. and queer flags. i didn't find anything i felt myself in.

so i made a flag.

using a light pink, purple, and blue color palette, and featuring two interlocking venus symbols, here it is. my dyke flag.

use it if you want, or don't. or design your own, or don't. make yourself feel seen however you need to.

so here it is. my dyke flag.

maybe in two years i'll come back and laugh and go "wow, she got it WRONG." but for now, here i am. here it is.

my dyke flag.

#my dyke flag #dyke #dyke pride #dykeposting #dyke posting #vent?? i guess #ramble at least #lesbian #flag tag #label tag

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twinkodium · 4 months

Text

I was tagged by @sebsdaniel thank you love 🥺🧡

Star sign:

Leo

Favorite holiday:

Christmas! Decorating the house with colorful Christmas lights, putting up the tree while the cookies are already in the oven, laughing along with family members, and bringing up old jokes and memories 🥹 Having free time to actually sit down and play some board games with them 🫶🏼 Gifts aren't even relevant when we have each other 🥺

Last meal:

Pancakes with peach jam 😌

Currently favorite musician:

5sos, for a while actually. Others come and go, but they stick forever.

Last music listened to:

Running wild by Pascal & Pearce, Jethro trait

Last movie watched:

Red, White and Royal Blue. I finished the book at 5am last Saturday I think and watched the movie right after 🫣 Book >>> movie adaptation tho 😉

Last TV show watched:

My Life is Murder, I love it so much 🥺 F1 infected brain went feral watching the third season, there was a kid named Oscar in one of the episodes and the art teacher, Ms. Norris. I SCREAMED

Last book/fic finished:

Heartstopper Vol.4 & Slugesh’s last fanfic - So Come and Take It (I literally mark ever other fanfic to read later, his are the only ones I rush to read when I have time 🥺)

Last book/fic abandoned:

God, so many books I started reading but couldn’t connect with and to save time I just moved on 😂 luckily, I don't buy physical books so I don't feel bad doing it. Can't remember when was the last time I've read any fanfic that wasn't from Slugesh 🫣 but usually I don't dnf on any.

Currently reading:

This winter by Alice Oseman, I've entered my Heartstopper phase 👀

Last thing researched for writing/art/hyperfixation:

Probably aesthetically pleasing winter pics for my fanfic headers/moodboards 🤭

Favorite online fandom memory:

None in particular but meeting people with the same interest and making friends and conversing daily is damn awesome 🥹 And how these people turn out to be just as crazy as you are and become a significant part of your life that you can't imagine living without them in it anymore.

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence:

Kpop/jpop, I had like 2-3 people to fangirl with apart from my sister, didn't know about tumblr just yet 😭

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did:

Nice people to connect with through DTM, literally doesn’t have a big audience but I’m glad I started watching it when I did.

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For:

Learning languages or polishing my German I neglected after finishing school 😐 Also cycling, I really should be physically more active and planning to do just that this year.

I’m tagging @slugesh @formulahuh @norribobs @landoom @jethro-in-the-tardis @481boxboxbaby @izzief1rambles @mctwinkdom @princesspiastri @otterpiastri @someominousecho @jennarations @avida-heidia-5 @piastrodium @ravenrage27 @borntogayz & whoever sees this and wants to participate (feel free to ignore) 🧡

#tag game #I love these kind of tag games #very exciting 🥺

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jackie-sugarskull · 4 months

Text

Today marks 7 years since the reawakening of my Captain Underpants hyperfixation, which had been asleep for a very, very long time.

I had first discovered the books much like any kid in the late 90s/early 2000s; at the Scholastic Book Fair. If I remember correctly, the first one I had found was the second book, Attack of the Talking Toilets. I remember thinking how silly the cover looked, and it drew my little elementary school self in like a moth to flame.

I had quickly read it and absolutely loved it, and like discovering a new favorite treat for the first time, I immediately wanted more.

I was able to find the first book in my school’s library so I was able to get the full story on the two best friends who pulled the ultimate prank by hypnotizing their grouch of a school principal, and how it immediately became the worst decision they ever made. And I loved every second of it.

As the years went on, I eagerly anticipated the Book Fair’s arrival at my school and would beg my mom for a few dollars extra, just so I get my hands on the newest adventure.

I devoured every single story I could find and bought as soon as I could, and each one was more entertaining than the last. From alien lunch ladies and zombie nerds, to a megalomaniac professor with an incredibly silly name in a giant robot with charts that you could use to give yourself a silly name (mine is “Poopsie Bananachunks” BTW), to an insane hypnotized woman with Medusa hair that gave atomic wedgies.

The more I read and reread these stories, the more I couldn’t help but think that it would make a pretty fun movie, or at least a tv show.

These stories had been with me through a lot of ups and downs in my life, the biggest being my parents’ divorce. They were there to remind me that even when times could be tough, you can make it through and still be able to laugh at even the silliest of things, no matter how old you got.

By the time I was 10, I got my hands on the latest book in the series, The Big Bad Battle of the Bionic Booger Boy Part 1. I loved it as always, but was shocked to see it ended on a cliffhanger. This had never happened before. I was anxious to see what would happen and how George and Harold would get out of this mess.

But… it would be some time before I got those answers.

Time went on, and my attention went to other things. I found new hyperfixations over the years, and while I didn’t have the 7th book at the time, I was eventually able to get answers thanks to the internet.

Eventually I entered middle school, and I found myself drawn to new book series that I grew to love, but Captain Underpants remained a big part of my childhood and some of its happiest memories. And for a while, I thought that was all it would be; memories to just fondly look back on.

But that all changed the winter of 2016.

It was the halfway point between Christmas and New Year’s, and I was gonna be 24 in less than a month. I was spending my downtime between holidays like any other bored 20-something year old; scrolling through Tumblr, of course. It was during that time that I stumbled across this post by @mondentertainment. It was photos of posters from a Licensing Expo, showcasing upcoming animated projects, be it films or series.

Among them were a few that sounded promising, others not so much.

But what caught my eye was this.

A poster from DreamWorks with a very familiar face on it.

I could barely believe what I was seeing, and from the comments and reblogs on the post, neither could a lot of other people.

It was like a door that had been long locked in the back of my brain finally burst open, and all those memories came flooding back, particularly of a reoccurring thought that ran through my young mind whenever I would look at those illustrations every time I turned the page.

Could it really be true? Was one of my favorite childhood books finally getting a chance to truly come to life on the big screen?

It had already happened once before after I read Coraline in middle school, so there might be a chance.

As you could probably imagine, I poured my thoughts of hope and excitement into the tags as I reblogged the post.

And when the trailer finally dropped three months later, it was like meeting that one childhood friend you never truly forgot all over again.

So much happened after seeing the movie on opening night, including meeting Dav Pilkey himself!

And all the great memories and friends I’ve made since rediscovering the fandom all lead back to that one moment on December 28th, 2016.

And I couldn’t be more grateful for that.

#captain underpants #captain underpants the first epic movie #captain underpants: the first epic movie #personal #personal ramblings

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necros-writing-stuff · 7 months

Text

The Horrors of Humanity: Collabo'ween Day 6.

Gn!Journalist!Reader/Darius Radner.

Warnings: Serial Murders; Kidnapping; Obsessive thoughts; Someone gets skinned but it's only mentions of it having happened. That's right, no smut in this one. Just dread. He do be playing mind games.

Word Count: 2366.

Notes: Might continue this later through smaller prompts. It's a good au for Dare.

His closed fist tapped against the cold metal of the table he sat at. His tongue trailed at the back of his teeth as he sucked in his lips and rolled his jaw. People sat around him, laughing or simply taking in their drinks as they watched the crowd float on by the window.

You were late. Meant to be here 10 minutes ago. It's how you always met, grabbing your warm drinks before walking around the local park and discussing the case you were following like a bloodhound.

'I'm starting to feel your absence in my heart when you aren't here,' he wrote in his journal. 'It feels leaden heavy, yet beats quicker than ever from the anxious thought that you'll never come back. How did you worm your way into my heart so fast? Was it because I wasn't looking at you when I should have had my guard up? Was that how you found the missing link in the fence that let you crawl through?'

It was true, he never meant to find your company so magnetic. People weren't his forte; a low social battery and a grumpy disposition can only handle so much before the man had to retreat back to his home to recuperate. Yet, when you left after your evening walks together, he couldn't help but yearn for more. When you were around he found himself smiling, snapping less when bumped into, hell, he even paid for that lady's baby food the other week.

'Your infectious kindness makes me feel like a new man. It was a newness I rejected at first, but I think I might like to try and be good. If it'll make you see me and not your work, I want to be good. But I still find myself playing the devil to keep you in my grasp.'

The Devil always got the contracts signed and the souls as his own in the end, didn't he?

"Hi, Dare!" You plop yourself into the seat across from him, a whoosh of air escaping your lungs as you sank into the frame. "Fucking traffic. Sorry for being so late."

You sip your drink, he closes his journal and hides it away before your instincts kick in and you try to pry it from him. Everything. You had a thirst for knowing everything. And most of the time you found it, but Darius kept you at an arm's length. He had to. To keep you safe.

" 's all good. You look knackered, love."

Dark circles under your eyes crease as you give a half-hearted smile. Your hair looks like you had your hands bothering it all day. "I haven't been sleeping the best - too busy looking over everything."

His eyes roll, already seeing that you're wasting no time on small talk today. You want straight into your little hyperfixation. Something must have really worked you up.

"Come here," you lean forward, chest touching the table top as you whisper. Darius follows with a deep sigh, his eyes shifting around the room and he feels like a toddler playing spies.

"Would be nice for you to ask me how I am, y'know?" It's bad manners for you to forget.

"Right- how are you?" Your eyes are so pretty. Your lips deserve his on them.

"Just fab, not considering skinning my employee for blunting all of my chisels."

Your face falls for a split second. Just a little bit before your eyebrows shoot up and that smile is back. "Funny you should mention skinning - that's what our friend's done."

A one track mind, truly. "Oh? Do tell me more."

It's like pulling the cord on a chainsaw. Four simple words, but he'll hear the buzz of you talking for hours now. He likes hearing you talk. He could sit and listen to you instead of being at home, watching the same old shows as he got drunk enough to pass out. Or out in the woods, in his workshop, listening to birds screech and bucks bugle.

Your excitement should be strange. It should put him off. It never has.

"Well I was talking with that constable again, you know, the tall lady? Yeah, well, there's been another body found. They don't think it's his because it's different from the others, but I know it just has to be."

What a rat. Darius never would have let shit leak like that back when he was on the force. He'd kept a tight grip on his underlings. At least this one leaks things to you; for that he could forgive her.

"How do you know?" Another sip of his coffee as you just keep fiddling with the lid of your drink.

"There's signs that he's been escalating, Dare. More violent and slow as he's killing, but an increased number of deaths. He's getting bored, so he's trying new things to bring back the magic of the first time."

The greying man considers it for a moment, his head tilting. "You should be careful, love. All this attention you give him might have him chasing you. You're well known enough that you'd end up in the news more so than the others - especially with how pretty you are. You know how the media likes a sleeping beauty sob story."

A scoff escapes your lips as you finally have a drink. "He's not dumb enough for that. Look at his targets. They're all people society ignores. He knows shit about how people work, he knows to be careful on who he picks. Since eyes would be on me, he'll stay away."

"Surprised you want him to stay away."

Oh, you don't appreciate that. A pitiful frown peers at him from across the table, your sweet face falling.

"I'm not like that, Dare. I've told you before." It's barely audible. He'd bet that your cheeks are feeling burned right about now.

A crack can be heard as he leans back and stretches his spine, his large hands combing through his hair and getting it out of his face. He's due a haircut.

"I know, love. Just teasing."

You arch a brow at him, a look that says you believe him as far as you could throw his giant frame. "Come on then. Give me your theory, what's he up to."

Ah, yes. The part of these meetings that caused them in the first place. Darius had seen your first article on your news site, your pretty little picture right there on the page. When he'd found you typing your next in this very café, he'd had to give his own two-cents. You'd been astonished and thankful that anyone was ready to hear you out (outside of degenerate threads on the internet full of strange people in love with the killer).

Bless your heart. You'd tried telling the police all of your theories, but they just wouldn't listen. Insisted they had a handle on things.

"He's lonely." A simple conclusion. A truth - not what the killings had started as. But very much what they'd turned into.

You know nothing. You never have. You know far more than anyone else but there's half of the picture you haven't filled in. And couldn't yet. That informant told you scraps of the details, but not everything about the bodies. About the messages left on them.

But you had guessed right on a few other things. Like his age range, his education or professional background - the fact that it was nine bodies so far, not six like the police believed. The fact that he is indeed a he.

"I doubt it. He shows all of the signs of a highly functioning person. He's probably well liked by people around him, probably-"

"But do any of the people around him understand him? Quite common now, no? Mental health pandemic and all that."

Your voice stutters as you find your response. "So he's… killing to feel connections? But he doesn't keep trophies. Not that we know of, anyway."

"Who says it's the victims he's vying for the love of?" Dare tips his nearly empty coffee at you.

Adorable, really. Watching the cogs in your brain turn as you recall everything you know. Watching how your tongue flicks out and wets your lips. You're a smart one. Surely you'll see what he's planting.

"He's killing to get the attention of someone else. They didn't start out like that, though. He's changed."

Darius nods along, proud. "How do you know he's changed?"

"Because of how slow and methodical he's getting. He used to just brutalise his victims, but now he's taking his time. Like he's… crafting messages?"

Bingo. You don't see the messages he makes for you, but you hear about them. And they bring you to him. The only time he gets to see you is right after he kills, when you can't wait to meet up and talk about your latest findings. But you're getting too close there.

"Or you were right the first time and he really is getting bored."

Now you're growling, rubbing your tired eyes. "Yeah… yeah… goddamn it."

Once again, you deflate. It's too easy, playing with your hopes and dreams like this. You want to catch him so bad, to know him inside and out. To know what makes him tick. But so long as you don't know, you'll come back to Dare to bounce your theories around.

Taking a final drink, Darius picks up his coat and heads to the bin to toss away the empty cardboard cup. Time for your evening walk together around the park. The cool air helped you both think.

Following suit, you chug what remains of your beverage while checking your phone. and thank him as he holds the door open even though you're enamoured by whatever is on the screen. You used to pay more attention to Darius himself, but his actions keeping your focus is close enough.

Your hand finds his, tugging him along as you rush to the park. A giddy laugh pulls from your chest. He's never touched you before. He can't think of words to say as he feels your skin against his own.

The first two killings had been out of curiosity. A need to know if they'd alleviate Darius' boredom. To know if it would shock some excitement within him. They hadn't been exciting at all until he'd found your article. You do such strange things to his head, love. All of those extra lives gone just because he needed to see you.

"Our friend managed to get some pictures for me! They're sending it over now, but they're messing around with emails to make sure it can't get back to them."

"Good news, that. You'll have more to think about." Ah. He wasn't exactly expecting this to happen so soon. Your room wasn't fully finished. "Are you sure you want to look, though? It'll be a real body. Not some movie prop. A real, skinned body."

"For better or worse, I'm very desensitised to blood and gore. I'll be fine. Are you sure you aren't the one scared to see it?" Your eyebrows waggle as you release his hand, having made it across the road and in through the gates of the park.

"I've seen this shit before. Ex-homicide department, remember?"

"Mmmm, but that was years ago, and we can go soft in our old age."

If you were anyone else he'd slap you upside your head. Despite himself, Darius laughs. "Not that old, love. I'm still in my prime."

There's a lot of trees in the park. And very little people at this time. He'd always think ahead and parked his car in a lot that just backed off into the foliage, in a blind spot from cameras, just in case. You walked to the café since it wasn't far from the office.

Your phone buzzes, your smile ceasing as you take in a deep breath and look over the photo. Your fingers pinch and you zoom in to examine every detail you can. A paleness crosses your skin.

"Fucking hell…"

Yeah, that's about right. Dare went the extra mile with this one.

"He really did take his time with this. It's. God, its smooth work. He knows how to butcher." The disgust is evident in your tone and the way your lip curls. What did he just tell you? You're biting off more than you can chew.

Darius' fingers snake their way into the deep pockets of his coat. They trace the rope he has hidden away. The capped needle he prepares before every meeting.

"He's-"

The gulp is audible as you scroll to the next photograph. Almost gag like as you zoom in as far as you can - your eyes blowing up as your expression blanks. You found it. His little note. A name, sewn onto the sole of the foot delicately. A nickname you barely tell anyone about because it embarrasses you. But you'd told Dare.

He can't hear anything over the sound of his blood rushing through his veins in his ears. Time seems to slow as your terrified gaze meets his own. The twitch of your muscles comes too late as you realise he's already moving - that he has something in his hand. Your scream dies as a gargle when Darius' free palm meets your throat, squeezing tightly as the needle goes in.

Oh, his poor little investigator. It was time to go home.

To Darius, you weigh little. Trussing you up is simple work, as is getting you in the boot of his car. There's a pillow in there for your head. Memory foam. He'd bring it inside to your new bed along with you, even if the room wasn't quite ready. He could make it work. Keep you bound, chained.

Driving past the café on the way home raises his curiosity. You wouldn't talk to him like you had in there. Not anymore. You'd be scared; feeling confused. Betrayed, maybe. He'd explain it all for you, though. His journal would tell you everything you ever wanted to know. Everything about how you became his muse.

The police wouldn't be hearing from him again. He had what he wanted.

#darius radner #collaboween #necro's fics #gn reader #cw death #cw abduction #cw horror #not dol

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 years

Note

Pleaaasse write Shane with insomniac reader pls and thank youuuu

(eat drink some water get some sleep💋)

I HAPPY STIMMED FOR LIKE A SOLID THREE MINUTES UPON SEEING THIS. SO HAPPY MY MAIN TWO HYPERFIXATIONS OF AHS AND GHOST FILES IS GETTING ATTENTION TOO

It was nearly one in the morning when Shane woke up to the floor next to him empty.

He was more than aware of you and Ryan's habit of getting spooked when staying overnight in a "haunted" place for some video. It was kind of hard not to be after all, with now much nervous small talk the two of you would engage in to keep your minds occupied. Thankfully he had gotten used to tuning that out over the years, otherwise any attempt at sleep would be fruitless.

But while Ryan tended to sit in one place and worry, Shane had found out over the course of various seasons that you preffered to get up and walk around. Often resulting in a stubbed toe or bruised kneecap nonetheless; but it was a nervous habit of yours that couldn't be tamed.

So the tall man allowed his body to roll over sluggishly, lifting himself out of a bright orange sleeping back to stretch his cramped legs.

It hadn't taken long, no more than two or three strides of his long legs, to find you standing outside the door to the broken and beaten up room they set up camp in, leaning against the doorframe and biting your nails.

"You should really go back to bed." Shane smiled lightly, looking down as you jumped at the new presence next to you.

"Says you." You mumbled back, leaning into the hand he just placed on your shoulder. "You sound half asleep yourself, Shane."

"And you look like the dead. No pun intended." He added on the last part while looking around the old building. He was pleasantly surprised to receive a tired laugh from you in return.

"If you come back to bed I'll tell you about what happened to me and Ryan the other night untill you fall asleep."

The bribe was too good to say no too, knowing how Shane's voice always managed to lull you into a dormant state—or just the man himself come to think of it. No matter how anxiety inducing your surroundings were he always had the right energy to calm you down, ranging from calm and understanding to batshit crazy.

"Alright." You sighed with the beginings of walking into the room and making a beeline to your sleeping bag. "But if I don't end up sleeping, I'm just going to pester you all night mister."

"I don't think we'll have a problem with that."

Sure enough, no more than fifteen minutes later he had stopped the tale of how he and Ryan nearly missed one of their flights to look at your sleeping face.

A slight smile made its way to his own as he laid back down once more, eyelids closing with the thought of you being the last thing to cross his mind.

#platoniclly written but can go both ways!!!#shane #shane madej #shane x reader #shane madej x reader #x reader #ghost files x reader #bfu #bfu x reader #buzzfeed unsolved x reader #buzzfeed unsolved #one shot #request

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clarafyer · 6 months

Text

Omnomnom dehydrated apple chips are some of my favorite safe foods

Actually yk what I'll ramble about my sensory shit

So like I've loved spicy, bold flavours like hot cheetos, curry, buffalo wings, etc, and I'll never not accept them as a safe food.

Sometimes though my sensory needs just- change back and forth, like from "I will vomit if I eat avocado toast today" to "avocado toast is the only thing I will accept as breakfast today" which is I guess where audhd comes in. There are some foods that bypass all my shifting needs, like strawberries, dehydrated apples, hot cheetos, potato chips, and pasta (ESPECIALLY the bowties omg I love the bowtie pasta)

Aside from taste needs, sometimes I really REALLY need a tight hug, not because I'm having a rough day but just because my body really wants to be under pressure for like 4 seconds and then it's good, aND THEN IT SWITCHES TO "If my parents even just barely touch my hair I will die of the sudden itch and sometimes even pain"

Also florescent lights just kill me most of the time which is why I am very happy that most of my teachers don't have every light turned on in their classrooms

I need socks to walk anywhere around my house but I will have straight up insomnia if I wear them to sleep

I haven't ever gone fully non-verbal but when I talk I either have to repeat myself 4 times because of how quiet I'm mumbling, stutter too much to the point where I just restart my sentence after pausing, repeat a word when I didn't mean to (for example during a chapter review of Lord of the flies I said "Piggy and Piggy" instead of "Jack and Piggy" and I got laughed at D:) ORRRRR I NEED TO BE TOLD TO BE QUIETER BECAUSE I'M RAMBLING TOOFASTANDLOUDDD

I have two special interests: my OC lore, and Genshin Impact. My childhood special interest was- also my old OC lore (7 year old me had the amazing and magical story, ever so creatively named "the enchanted forest") that went on for like 4-5 years where I would always want to talk about it and think about it to sleep, aaaaaand My Little Pony (I'VE REWATCHED MLP AND NINJAGO BOTH LIKE AT LEAST 8 TIMES but I wouln't call Ninjago a special interest bc it was more of an on and off obsession-)

I do also have hyperfixations ofc and they usually last up to 2 months, pretty sure that lines up with the statistical average idk

Also sometimes I just need to- punch something with full force. I never get to though and Ik it'd feel great (I did throw a pillow like 5 times in a call with my friend when I was hyper though so like... I've been able to get that excitement out-)

I'm sometimes really slow or just straight up zone out mid-conversation which is frustrating on both ends

I have a wide and advanced vocabulary for my age but [read the prior paragraph on talking], I usually don't get to use it to it's full potential because of that issue .-.

(I just realized this whole rant about my stuff is gonna be perfect for if I can ever actually get diagnosed by someone yayyy)

Mom told me that as a 1-3 year old I never really played with my toys but just lined them up either by size or color (yk those like- tower thingies with the rings of differing sizes and colors? I always ordered them correctly just out of the need for it to look right)

When I was 5 this girl in Kindergarten had a sling on but it was a fancy bedazzled sling so I really wanted to feel the gems but she wouldn't let me and I got sad :(

I've always loved swings and those like- spider web climbing equipment, still do just because I like rocking around and being able to stretch and hang and maneuver around the differently angled bars/ropes on the spider web thing (SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT THEY'RE ACTUALLY CALLED)

I also have this like- neck shaking and hand flapping tic/stim, sometimes it's uncontrollable sometimes it's a controllable urge, and when it's a tic it sometimes hurts or is just straight up excessive

Okay my mind is going blank now so buhbye this was super long if anyone read all of that- kudos to you, Idk why you would subject yourself to reading it all ok BYEEE

#actually autistic #undiagnosed neurodivergent #undiagnosed autistic #undiagnosed autism #undiagnosed adhd #autism food #autistic things #autism #audhd #actually audhd #audhd things

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princessasmosprincess · 1 year

Text

Charmed, I'm Sure

Chapter 22

Summary: No human has ever avoided Asmodeus's charm. Except for you.

Pairing: Asmodeus x GN Reader/MC

Genre: Drama, angst, fluff.

Warnings: None.

***

Author's note: Sorry for the wait on this, recontextualizing an existing scene is harder than it looks. Also, Nightbringer came out and my hyperfixation kinda took over :)

***

“Oi, human,” Mammon nudged your shoulder frantically. “Time to get up!”

You fumbled for your D.D.D. in the dark. You peered at the display with one squinted eye. It was 6:00 am on a weekend.

You groaned, rolling onto your side.

Mammon grabbed half of the clothes in your closet, hangers and all, and tossed them into old-fashioned leather trunk.

“Come on, ya gotta hurry!” He zipped over to the bathroom and knocked the entire contents of the counter into a matching hatbox.

“I’m not skipping town with you, Mammon.”

He stopped short, a pitiful expression on his face. “Ya mean ya wouldn't if I asked you to?” Mammon frowned.

You snuggled deeper into the covers, mumbling into your pillow, “Not at this hour.”

“But ya would if it was later in the day?” He asked quietly. “What am I sayin’? We ain't skippin’ town, We’re supposed to be gettin’ ready for the retreat.”

“Retreat?” You sat up, still bleary eyed.

“Student council and exchange students are spendin’ a few days at the Demon Lord’s castle.” Mammon threw your RAD uniform into your lap.

“Since when?”

“It don’t matter, just get ready. Lucifer wants us downstairs in twenty minutes.”

***

Less than an hour later, you and the brothers arrived at the Demon Lord’s castle, your luggage in hand, all dressed in your RAD uniforms.

Lucifer made everyone stand like soldiers, lined up by rank, except he placed you between himself and Mammon.

“I expect you all to be on your best behavior,” Lucifer looked down the line. “This is to be a weekend of harmony and fun.” From the tense way he glared at everyone individually, it really didn’t feel like he was encouraging you to have fun.

Lucifer moved to straighten your lapel. “And if any of you–”

The door to the castle burst open.

“Well, good morning.” said Diavolo, he resembled an excited puppy as he answered the door. Much less intimidating than your previous interactions with him. You relaxed slightly. “I must say I couldn't wait for you to arrive.”

“Welcome to the Demon Lord’s castle. It’s a pleasure to have you here.” Barbatos stood to the side as Diavolo ushered everyone in, the orderly line now devolving into a clump as you entered.

“Good morning, Diavolo. And you too, Barbatos.” said Lucifer, peering around the castle’s foyer, a smug expression on his face, “Well, it seems that neither Solomon nor the angels have arrived yet, have they?”

Mammon scoffed, “Man, now that's just shameless. Listen to you pretendin' like you didn't hurry over here, all frantic to make it to Lord Diavolo before Solomon and the angels could.”

Lucifer’s smile turned almost vicious, his red eyes flashing, “Hm? Did you say something Mammon?”

“D'AAAAAH OW OW OW! My foot! You're steppin' on MY FOOT, Lucifer!” Mammon exclaimed, trying to pull away from his older brother. “Lucifer sir!”

Diavolo chuckled, “Well, Lucifer, Mammon, I see that you two are getting along swimmingly as usual.”

Asmo sighed, setting his bags down on the floor, “At least Mammon is predictable. No matter what, you can always count on him to act stupid.”

You gave a little laugh, mostly surprised that someone had voiced what you’d always thought of Mammon, that he was predictable. In return, Asmo pretended he hadn’t heard you, coming to stand at Lucifer’s side, his back to you.

You frowned, once again hurt by Asmo’s rejection.

You tuned out the rest of the conversation as you took in the castle’s grand foyer. Nearly everything was in a shade of gold, from the floor to columns to the intricate frames that held portraits of who you assumed were demon nobles and members of the Devildom’s royal family from millennia past. A gilded crystal chandelier shined up above, its flames large and flickering but so bright.

Levi elbowed you gently in the side. “You’re staring,” he said. “You’re not like Mammon, are you? Sizing up the Demon Lord’s riches?”

“No, I’m just admiring it,” you said. “I’ve never been in a real castle before, it's spectacular.”

“It is a pretty cool place,” Levi agreed, following your gaze to the gallery above the stairs, “Wish we lived in a castle.” He muttered.

You opened your mouth to respond to him when you were practically tackled to the floor.

“MC!” It was Luke.

Solomon and Simeon trailed behind him as Barbatos bolted the castle’s doors.

Luke hugged you tightly. “I’m so happy you’re alright!”

“Normies and your hugs, SMH…” Levi sneered, slinking away to a corner.

You and Asmo, who had turned when he heard the commotion, shared a wide-eyed glance over Luke’s head, the first real interaction you’d had with him in days.

Luke continued, “So, SO HAPPY! There aren't even words!”

What did the little angel know?

“What's all this about?” asked Satan.

Asmo gave a nervous laugh, coming up with a quick cover, “I'm guessing he must feel responsible for what happened. You know, for how Lucifer nearly attacked MC…”

Satan and the others seemed to accept that answer. Lucifer scowled, crossing his arms and looking away.

"Ya don't think this could be because MC was bedridden for a week?" Asked Mammon, trying to break the tension by changing the subject. He tugged on Luke’s golden hair, prompting him to turn his head and glare.

"I suppose it could be that too..." It was Asmo's turn to frown and look away. He decided to occupy himself by throwing his arms around Solomon's neck, planting kisses on both of his cheeks, leaving faintly pink lipgloss marks behind.

"I've heard rumors that Simeon and Diavolo met and mediated a solution together. Is that right?" Solomon asked as he attempted to extract himself from Asmo's arms.

"Yes, we did," said Simeon.

Diavolo nodded seriously, "Indeed, yes. Isn't that right, Lucifer?"

"...Yes." He continued scowling, irritated that his folly was in the spotlight for everyone to judge.

Luke squeezed you tighter. "It's such a relief to see you safe and sound. I've been beside myself with worry..."

“I am ok, Luke,” you finally hugged him back, relieved that it seemed he and everyone else were still in the dark about the incident with those lower level demons the other night. “Did you have any reason to doubt?”

“You’re only a human and you’ve been through so much already,” said Luke, releasing you from his hug. “You’re still wearing your bracelet, right?” He looked down at your ankle.

You shifted, tucking your bare ankle behind you and out of view, the gesture somewhat useless. Even if he couldn't see the bracelet or lack thereof, he would be able to tell you weren't wearing it if he focused, just by the lack of its magical signature. You’d just learned about the existence of magical signatures in class, the telltale signs an object was imbued with magic. Touching a potentially magical item or even getting too close to it could be dangerous if you didn't know what kind of magic it possessed, but the essence of magic could be detected if you knew what to look for.

“About that…” You didn't know how to tell him the bracelet had broken. You’d cried for hours over the snapped thread and loose beads. Part of it was because you’d just escaped death and the realization had caught up with you, part of it was because you had fought with Asmo, and part of it was because a gift given to you by a dear friend had been ruined. You still had all the pieces so you’d tried to reconstruct it, but the magic hadn’t returned. “Luke, I-”

“All right, then,” said Diavolo, calling everyone’s attention and effectively ending your conversation, “Now that we're all here, perhaps we should go ahead and explain how this retreat is going to work.”

“Certainly, my lord,” said Barbatos.

“I can’t wait to spend the weekend with you,” Asmo cooed in Solomon's ear, still clinging to his arm, “Maybe we can get some cuddle time in.”

Solomon struggled to stand up straight with Asmo pulling him down, “We’ll see…”

Barbatos stood at the front of the room, “The aim of this retreat is for demons, angels, and humans to intermingle so that each may gain a better understanding of the other.”

“Well, as we're stayin' the night, I say the best way to intermingle is by havin' a pillow fight!” said Mammon.

Diavolo seemed to like this idea, his eyes lighting up. Lucifer stood beside him, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Barbatos continued as if he hadn't just been disrupted. “Now then, I'll begin by explaining what we have planned for each day of the retreat.”

“Wha- so you're just gonna ignore me?”

You gave Mammon a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

“After you've taken your belongings up to your rooms, we'll begin with a tour of the Demon Lord's Castle, where you'll have a chance to learn about Devildom history.” said Barbatos. “We'll be serving Devildom cuisine for dinner tonight, and I've taken the liberty of volunteering to prepare tonight's meal myself.”

“Mmm, Barbatos's authentic Devildom cuisine…” Beel drooled.

“Tomorrow we'll be having a scavenger hunt.”

Everyone seemed to be excited about that, especially Mammon and Solomon.

“Each day, we plan to have a representative from one of the three worlds prepare a meal for us. So, tomorrow Luke will be making food from the Celestial Realm. I'm sure it will be quite a treat.”

Beel’s stomach growled loudly, but Barbatos pretended he didn't hear it. Diavolo stifled a laugh.

“Incidentally, there will also be a dance following dinner tomorrow.”

You shot Mammon a look that he tried to ignore, his face turning red. A dance? You weren't prepared for this. You had no idea what proper etiquette was like at a formal Devildom dance or whether you had even brought anything acceptable to wear. Lucifer had reminded everyone that morning that you would be stuck at the castle for the weekend, there would be no going back to the House of Lamentation to retrieve anything left behind. Whatever you brought with you would have to be good enough; hopefully you wouldn’t embarrass humankind with whatever you and Mammon had hastily shoved into your suitcase.

“Then on day three, the final day, we'll get to enjoy food from the human world for lunch, which MC will be preparing for us.”

“No one told me about this…” You murmured, your head spinning, more focused on the dance than your cooking assignment. That, you were sure you could handle.

You hadn't realized you’d said it that loudly, forgetting the demons’ superior hearing.

“I did send notice regarding our plans.” said Barbatos, his eyebrows raised, concerned.

Lucifer grabbed Mammon by the upper arm, his eyes glowing red, “Mammon, I believe I told you to let MC know about this?”

Mammon squirmed in his grasp, “H-Huh? W-Wait a minute, didn't I, um, mention that?” He looked to you with pleading eyes.

You shook your head.

“No? Well, THAT'S weird... Ahaha…”

“I’m sure it will all turn out…” Barbatos sighed, “Well then, why don't we move on to the room assignments?”

“We can’t just choose for ourselves?” Asmo frowned.

“Don’t be ungrateful, Asmo,” Lucifer hissed.

Barbatos listed off the first assignment, “Lord Diavolo will be sharing a room with Lucifer.”

Lucifer turned to Diavolo as he let go of Mammon’s arm, “You have your own bedroom here. Why share a room with me?”

“Now who’s ungrateful?” Satan smirked.

Lucifer ignored him to keep the peace.

“Luke, Beelzebub, Leviathan, you will be sharing a room.” said Barbatos.

“I have a really, really bad feeling about this…” Luke whimpered.

Asmo and Solomon would have to be assigned a room together. They had a pact, didn't they? Just like you would probably be in a room with Mammon since Lucifer had assigned him to you from the beginning and now you had a pact together. Diavolo had even entrusted Asmo with Solomon’s safety when he’d first arrived in the Devildom and he was to be Solomon’s guardian on the future hot springs trip. It just made sense.

“Simeon, Asmodeus, MC, you'll be sharing a room.” Barbatos said, “And Solomon, Mammon, Satan, you'll be sharing a room as well. And that covers everyone.”

Asmo was stunned. This is not how he thought things would go.

“What?” said Mammon, saying exactly what Asmo was thinking. “Yo, Asmodeus. Switch rooms with me!”

“Hmm?” Asmo blinked, hardly registering what Mammon had said, “What? Why?”

“Because, um...y'know…”

As Mammon rambled his excuses, Asmo’s mind wandered. He had been able to avoid you pretty easily so far. At mealtimes he stuck around Lucifer, who was always at the opposite end of the table from you. And at night he partied and drank just the way he loved to do. It was easier this way, the more he filled up his time, the less he thought about you. With you as his roommate for the retreat he wouldn't be able to ignore you any longer. He was devastated that he’d be separated from Solomon and have to room with you. But at the same time he felt… excited? He had the urge to explore that feeling a little more.

“...And when you sleep in the same room as a human, their smell ends up rubbin' off on ya. So you should be grateful I'm even willin' to trade with ya! You should be HONORED, actually!”

“Ah...I see. So that's why you want to switch rooms, is it?” said Asmo. Your scent rubbing off on him, wouldn’t that be nice… Asmo’s cheeks warmed at the thought. He shook his head, shrugging it off. What was he thinking? He returned to Mammon who looked so pathetic as he begged to switch rooms. Asmo’s gaze hardened. “Well, in that case, the answer is no. Too bad!”

“WHY NOT?!”

Asmo simpered. “Maybe because I enjoy seeing that bitter, frustrated look on your face?” Served him right. Mammon had just been babbling on like an idiot in love as if he hadn’t left you alone to fend for yourself the other night. There was no chance Lucifer or Barbatos would allow a room change anyway. The plans had already been made.

“Gr…”

“Ahaha! Yep, that's the one! I really DO love that look!” Yes, Mammon deserved to be punished for almost getting you killed and this was just the way to do it. And maybe it wouldn't hurt to get to know you a little better…

“How long do you all plan on goofing around?” said Lucifer. “Let's go. Time to take your belongings up to your rooms.”

“OWWWW!” Mammon exclaimed. “Hey! Lucifer, stop! Quit pullin' me along by the ear!”

Everyone followed as Mammon’s cries echoed down the halls.

***

Cross-posted on AO3

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