#Wrath is always bitching to someone...

[tw1nkee28]

@mythrite

The sillyy !!

Wasn't too sure on their personality, but I think he's so silly and I wanted to try to draw em

Sorry if I got anything wrong hdhdh

[punishereditz]

Best Interest

Pairing: Tyler Owens x f!reader

Warnings: 18 plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! Fighting. Blood. Small injuries. Swearing. Smut. Unprotected sex. Oral (f receiving). Praise kink. Creampie. Overestimation.

AN: May be my best smut story yet.

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: After getting into a fight, Tyler takes care of you in more than one way.

~

The hotel parking lot was full of Storm Chasers. His team, yours, and another group of Chasers he didn't know. Tyler's eyes followed your march. A line growing between his eyebrows. What were you doing? Before he had time to wonder, you hurled a book at a guy's head. "You fucking asshole!" Tyler was frozen in place. In complete shock as he watched you lunge yourself at the man.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out?!" You shouted in a fit of rage as you shoved him against a truck with all your strength. "Would someone get this loser off of me?" His team started pulling you off of him.

"You stole my story! You took it as your own and published it you son of bitch!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The book! The goddamn book that I wrote! You stole it, Ray!"

"Oh! That." He chuckled and your blood went cold. Your knuckles turning to a ghost shade of white, you had your fist clenched so tightly.

"I didn't steal it. You threw it away. I just published." He spoke in arrogance and with a shrug.

"That's not the point, the point is that you published it, with your name and absolutely no credit to me or permission! You're taking all the points when you know damn well you didn't write one word!"

"If I didn't dig the story up, then it wouldn't be a #1 best seller."

"You bastard. You betrayed me!" Your voice cracked and you lunged yourself at him again. Your friend quickly rushing over. Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you away. "Enough! Enough! Stop! It's not worth it!" Your friend tried to get through to you. Taking a few steps away from him. Your fist clenched by your sides. As Tyler watched the chaos, he started piecing everything together. His eyes on you as you started to walk away.

"That's right. Walk away, just like you always do. You gave up on it just like you've given up on everything else."

Your body reacted before you mind did. Before you even realized it, you were shoving your knee between his legs, falling to the ground with him, straddling his lap as your fist met his jaw. Then again. And again. Over and over until your hand ached and he spit up blood. The sound of his pain and the sight of his blood giving a sense of satisfaction. You hated how your rage took over you in this moment, but you couldn't stop it. All you saw was red. Your adrenaline high. Your mind so full of wrath that as your group of friends started pulling you off of him, you were still trying to punch him.

It wasn't until Ray stood on wobbly legs that you finally took a deep breath. Taking a moment to watch the blood pour from his nose and mouth. You took a few steps back, but still with a small amount of fury in you... you gave him your best right hook. Falling to the ground and blinking his eyes, trying to not pass out. Now that you finally felt satisfied, you sighed and walked away. Going up to your hotel room.

His team all standing around him. Trying to make sure he was okay. Your friends all frustrated at the hell that just broke loss. But they deiced to leave it alone for tonight. They knew that would be best, but Tyler thought differently. He was feeling a swarm of emotions, he felt your rage, he felt impressed and shocked by your actions. But he was mostly feeling concern because when you walked to your room, walking by him, he noticed your bloody knuckles. He knew some of the blood wasn't yours, but he noticed that your knuckles were cut up and your hands were severely shaking. It was none of his business. He knew that. He knows that the two aren't always on good terms. Always in a competition of who is the better chaser.

But he forgot about all of that right now. All those problems between the two of you, he shoved to the back of his mind, and he walked to your hotel room. Knocking on your door before he allowed his mind to think about it too much. His eyes immediately going to your hands when you opened the door.

"Hey there Rocky." You rolled your eyes at his cocky smirk, and you went to close the door, but he put his hand up and stopped you from closing it.

"Let me see your hand."

"Are you always this forward?"

"Only when something has my interest."

"I'm interesting?"

"Interesting is an understatement." He chuckled. A small smile growing on your lips. "Now that's a sight." Tyler's eyes fell down to your lips. The air between the two of you suddenly growing thicker.

He cleared his throat. "Let me take a look at it." Before you could give him an answer, he was grabbing your wrist, closing the door and sitting you down on the bed.

"Hey!" He simply chuckled and smiled at your complaining. He got down on one knee in front of you. Taking your hands in his and you tried to ignore the heat growing in your cheeks.

"It's fine. I was just cleaning them up."

"Hmm. Sure sweetheart." He started to closely check your knuckles. Gently rubbing his thumb over them. Your hand twitching and your body tensing. He quickly moved his thumb away and looked up at you to make sure you were okay.

"Since when does the tornado wrangler worry about anything else other than tornados?"

"Since there's blood involved." He had a teasing smile, but it faded when he noticed your embarrassment.

"You really did a number on the guy." He said after a long moment of tense silence.

"So... you saw all that?"

"Oh yeah."

"Well, that's not embarrassing at all." Your cheeks burned a brighter red and you wanted to hide.

"Nah. Impressive actually. Remind me to not piss you off." He tried to reassure you and put you at ease with jokes.

You didn't say anything to his joke and instead looked into his eyes. The realization started to settle in. He was checking on. He was being unbelievably gentle with you. Why was he doing this? Your mind spiraled and Tyler noticed.

His gentle hold on your hands tightening just a little. "Other than being sore for the next few days, you're okay." He let go of you and he rose to his feet. Returning in front of you with gauze. He knelt down. Taking your hands and starting to gently wrap them.

As he did, the realization started to hit him. He realized the position he was in. That he was down on his knees in front of you. The smell of your sweet perfume suddenly overwhelming him. He would be lying if he said he hasn't thought about this before. On his knees for you. That was when a mischievous smile crept to his lips. What if I just... "All set." A crease settled between your eyebrows when you saw the look he was giving you. "What is it?"

"Nothing..." He said with a shrug and his voice suddenly got lower. Your breath catching in your throat when you felt his hand start to gently move up your leg. The motions of his hand slowing when he got to your thigh. Taking his time to feel you as he slowly brought his hand back down. Stopping at your knee. He gently pushed your leg. Spreading your legs wider. You couldn't stop the gasp of surprise that left your lips.

"So gorgeous..." He mumbled. His hands running along your thighs. Your cheeks burning so hot you feel like you could start sweating. "Do you know that? How gorgeous you are?" You weren't able to get the words he wanted to hear out. So, you just shook your head. His crooked grin growing wider. He moved his hands away, slowly taking off his coat. His eyes never leaving yours.

"Guess I'll just have to show you." His hands went to the button of your jeans. "Lay back and lift your hips sweetheart." His voice was a low growl of lust in your ear. Sending shivers down your spine. You slowly leaned back and lifted your hips. "Good girl." He pulled down your jeans alongside with your underwear. He moved your legs over his arms and pushed them up until your legs were draped over his shoulders and his hands were gripping your hips. He gently kissed your thighs. Making your body shudder. His lips moving over your other thigh. A smirk on his lips when you a moan escaped you when he licked a line up your folds.

His lips gently wrapping around your clit. Kissing it before he lightly sucked it. Causing your eyes to be sent to the back of your head and your hands gripping into the sheets. Your knuckles aching in pain but the pleasure between your legs overpowered the pain you had because of your grip on the bed. Your hands were the last thing on your mind. Slowly forgetting about what all has happened. Forgetting about the whole reason he ended up on his knees for you. All you could think about was why he was on his knees now and how his tongue rolled on your clit.

Your breath got heavier, and your moans started to get louder. Your legs trying to close around him. But his grip on you kept you in place. Your body still but your head spinning as his tongue started to move faster. One of his hands leaving your hip and circling your entrance. Slowly pushing his long finger into you. Curling his finger up and reaching places that you could never reach on your own. Your body shaking, you moaned out his name.

"I'm... I'm close-" You spoke weakly through moans, and he continued exactly what he was doing. Matching the speed of his finger with the speed of tongue. His finger deep in you and his mouth sucking your clit, you gripped his hair. Keeping his head in place as your climax hit you. Your moans stopping and your breathing slowing. Your hands slumping at your sides. He sucked his fingers clean, and he looked at you with a cocky smile. Feeling his eyes on you, you opened your eyes and looked at him. Raising up, you looked down into his eyes. His hands rest on the sides of your thighs, and you got closer. Your face mere inches away from his. You laced your fingers through his hair, then suddenly leaned down and kissed him. He moaned into your mouth. His cock straining in his jeans. His hand creeping up your body until he gripped your hair. Deepening the kiss. A sweet gentle kiss quickly turned into desperation.

The more the need grew the more heated the kiss got. The tighter the two of you gripped at each other's hair. Your hands moving down and pulling away from the kiss. Grabbing his shirt with a quickness you didn't even know you had. Pulling his white t-shirt over his head as fast as you could. His lips clashing with yours once more. A heat of desperate want and need. He rose to his feet, pulling you up with him. Never once breaking the kiss. Even when you started to unbutton his jeans and pull them down. His cock springing free. The two of you were like animals. Crawling at each other. Ripping each other's clothes off. His pants. Your shirt and bra. Being torn off of each other in a matter of seconds and being discarded to the floor.

The two of you spun and Tyler sat down at the edge of the bed. Pulling you down on top of him. Straddling his lap, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. His hand moving down between the two of your bodies and guiding his cock into your entrance. Gently pushing it in. His fingers gently digging into your hip. Biting his lips to mask his groan as best as he could. A soft gasp leaving your lips as you started to slowly move yourself down. Starting to take all of his long, thick cock. Stretching your pussy so perfectly. You kissed him as you started to roll your hips up and down.

The kiss quickly turning into all tongue and teeth. Kissing with the same desire that has been burning through the both of you. Wild animals set free. Animals that have been held back and hidden away from their needs. Unleashed to hunt. To hunt for that fire that they need in this cold world. Finding the heat that they need. Finding the heat in each other. In the kiss. In your bodies pressed together. The pleasure growing heavier as you broke the kiss. Throwing your head back with your eyes clenched shut as you were overwhelmed with the best pleasure you've ever felt. Tyler's hands digging into your hips as groans escaped his gritted teeth. Gasping, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he felt the best pleasure he's ever felt.

Your heart rates spiking and your breathing getting harder to control. The adrenaline of this better than any adrenaline you two have felt chasing a storm. No. This, this was the greatest thing he could ever chase. You. He held onto your waist, and he kissed you as deeply as he could as he felt his climax start to get closer and closer to him. His cock twitching and throbbing. Your walls clenching around him. It was too much for the both of you. He groaned loudly as he came. Your moans as loud as his as you came with him. Your knees weak and your hips slowing to a stop.

You both took a moment to try and control your breathing. Coming down from the high. Tyler left a soft kiss on your forehead, your nose, your cheek, then on your lips. He took a moment to soak in your beauty. Your naked body on top of him. Your forehead glistening with sweat. Your soft gaze. He knew in this moment that you were more beautiful than any tornado and definitely worth chasing than any tornado.

"What are you thinking?" Your gentle voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat. "Nothing." He said with a shrug and a big smile. Gently lifting you off of him. Cum dripping out of you. He laid you down on the bed. Leaning over to give you a kiss. Then he entered the bathroom. Returning with a warm bath cloth. He carefully cleaned you up. Then himself. Changing the sheets. He crawled into bed. Your head laid on his chest and his strong arms wrapped around you.

"I'll see 'ya in the eye of the storm sweetheart."

[eddiesghxst]

ARE YOU BORED YET? - part one

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you're steve's “bitchy” step-sister and are spending the summer in hawkins; eddie is steve's annoying best friend who you can’t seem to shake, but things take a sharp turn when you find yourself sneaking around and ultimately falling for him

contains: slightly enemies to lovers trope, drug and alcohol use, smoking, secret relationship vibes, tension, and eddie being a certified tease <3

word count: 7k

chapter song: foxey lady x jimi hendrix

| next part |

| series masterlist | their mixtape I -main masterlist- I

Eddie hates summer.

Most people hate summer due to boredom, but if Eddie’s being honest, he’s never been bored a day in his life— Eddie can make staring at the wall a fun game if he wants to— so, no, Eddie doesn’t hate summer because of boredom. Eddie hates summer because it’s so fucking hot. It’s hot, and the sun is always out, and Eddie burns like fucking bacon in an oven— and it doesn’t help that over half of Eddie’s wardrobe is the color black. Do you know how hard it is to be a metalhead with long hair and black jeans in the middle of a summer heatwave? It’s hard.

Now, you would think that with this knowledge of his undying hate for the heat, Eddie would do everything in his power to stay out of it— except Eddie’s friend is kind of a picturesque summer lover boy and drags Eddie everywhere with him no matter how intense satan’s wrath feels that day. So now, Eddie sits in the airport carpool lane, nearly drowning in his sweat as he waits for Steve’s step-sister to get off the plane.

“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t ask Robin to come with you,” Eddie grumbles as he tugs the front of his black muscle tee open and shut in a fanning manner. It doesn’t do much to cool him down, considering the dry heat that’s settled over Hawkins. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever been this hot in his life if he’s being honest.

Steve rolls his eyes, watching people filter out of the airport, dragging luggage behind them as they spot their rides. Steve doesn’t bother looking Eddie’s way when he responds, “I already told you— Robin’s been too busy shoving her tongue down her girlfriend's throat all summer,” he grimaces, “Plus, I know my step-sister, and I know she has at least three suitcases— all of which will fit perfectly in your van.”

Eddie’s the one to roll his eyes now, irritation settling in his bones as the seconds pass like minutes. “Asshole,” Eddie mumbles as he shifts in his seat. He’s sticky everywhere. Sticky, wet, and gross, and he’s sweating in places that he’s almost one hundred percent sure shouldn’t be sweating. He huffs as he turns his attention to the exit of the airport, eyes scanning through different people as he asks, “...Well, what’s she look like anyway?”

Steve scoffs, “You’ll know it’s her when you see her. Just look for a girl that looks like she came straight out of a Baywatch episode.”

Eddie thinks for a moment, brows furrowing before he speaks, “So… someone hot?”

Steve grimaces and turns to Eddie, “Ew. Gross, dude, no— that’s my sister—” “Step-sister.”

Steve shakes his head and turns back to people watching, “She’s from California, pervert. I meant look for someone who looks like an asshole from California.”

Eddie’s not sure why Steve would ever decide to associate Baywatch with anything other than hot, sun-bathed babes, but Eddie’s too irritated with the heat to argue his point and instead nods his head in understanding. 

“She’s probably wearing heels, and she’s probably in some over-the-top girly outfit— and again, she’s probably lugging at least three suitcases.” Steve further explains.

Eddie nods and purses his lips. “So…” he pauses and thinks for a moment, “Malibu Barbie?”

Steve snaps his fingers and points to Eddie as he glances at him, “Exactly. And forewarning— she’s a total bitch.”

Eddie nods, lips pursed as he takes the information in. Eddie scans the crowd of people for some time, growing frustrated when he finds no sign of a bitchy-looking Malibu Barbie running around Hawkins, but then…

It’s as if a cool breeze drifts through the devil’s heat, and Eddie feels something other than absolute dread when the airport's sliding doors open and out steps a girl that fits the very description Steve had just given— only, you’re even better in real life.

Eddie swears time slows down when he sees you— pretty, glowy skin glistening in the summer sun, the light wash jean skirt you’re wearing is hugging your waist sinfully, leaving little to nothing for Eddie’s imagination as his eyes travel down your legs. Soft, shiny, perfect legs with doughy thighs that Eddie thinks would make his brain short-circuit if he ever got the chance to feel them. 

Eddie’s mouth may as well become a fountain with the way it fills with spit at the sight of your soft tummy, peeking out from the tiny sliver your top leaves— god, is that a fucking belly ring? Your shirt hugs your tits in an ungodly way— well enough to make Eddie stir within his pants because, seriously, how do they look so perfect? Eddie thinks you’ve come straight out of one of the porno magazines he’s got stuffed in his junk drawer.

You’re a dream. Dreamtime fucking central. 

Sex on legs or whatever they say— Eddie doesn’t know; he just knows you’re really fucking hot, and you’re about to get into his disgusting, old, and dirty van.

Eddie’s hand nearly caves Steve’s chest in when he smacks his friend, “Dude,” his face twists in disbelief, “Why didn’t you tell me she’s like—” “Jesus Christ, Eddie, do not tell me you think my step-sister is hot.” Steve groans as he rolls his head on his neck.

“But she is!” Eddie exclaims.

“Well, she’s off limits,” Steve quickly shuts the idea down, "For everybody in this town, especially you.” He points an accusing finger at Eddie, and Eddie can’t help the way his eyes roll. What could Eddie possibly do to somebody like you? As if you would even give him a chance.

“Plus, I’m pretty sure she’s dating some douchebag quarterback from her school. She’s got a new boyfriend every time she comes home.” Steve grumbles— which immediately confirms it; you would never give Eddie, someone who has never willingly touched any set of balls other than his own, the time of day.

That doesn’t mean Eddie can’t admit you’re drop-dead gorgeous, though. Because you are. And Eddie kind of forgets what he’s doing here in the first place until Steve unbuckles himself and gets out, and Eddie remembers— oh yeah, I’m here to pick up this extremely hot girl in my extremely run-down van.

Whatever.

Eddie will live, he thinks. He unbuckles and gets out of the van, rounding the front of his van to step onto the sidewalk, where Steve calls your name and grabs your attention. You spot them immediately, your expression unreadable as you wave a flight attendant over to follow you. And yeah, that’s more than three suitcases being pushed behind you.

You glance at Eddie when you get closer, your cute little kitten heels clicking against the cement floor— who wears heels to the airport?

“This is disgusting.” You say as you gesture to the air. And Eddie couldn’t agree more. This heat is disgusting, and he couldn’t imagine being in it with heels. 

Steve hums, “Welcome back to paradise.”

You roll your eyes, handing your carry-on to Steve. Steve grunts at the weight of it, glaring at you as he stumbles from your force, “Did you fucking move out?” he stresses when he sees the cart of suitcases behind you. You grimace, “Like I would ever move here. Where’s your car?” 

You don’t acknowledge Eddie as you glance around, and Eddie’s honestly too stunned to speak— and is that your perfume he’s smelling? Jesus Christ, Eddie wants to fall to his knees right here on this cracked pavement. 

Steve rolls his eyes at your response and turns to open the back doors of the van, “My car wouldn’t be able to hold your fifty suitcases, so I came prepared,” he throws a fake smile as he tosses your bag in, ignoring your warning to, “Be careful with my stuff, asshole.”

Steve waves you off before he gestures lazily to Eddie, “This is my friend, Eddie, by the way.”

And for the first time, you look at Eddie. It’s then that Eddie’s bodily autonomy finally comes back, and he remembers that he has control over his limbs. He waves, tossing out a lazy hey as he opens the back doors of his van, “Heard tons about you,” he grunts as he loads in another suitcase.

You huff as you cross your arms, “I doubt it.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, “Yeah, not much.” He admits. “But when I heard Malibu Barbie was coming into town, I knew I had to see her for myself.” He winks.

You grimace, rolling your eyes with a groan, “Gross.” You grumble before yanking the side doors open and stepping in.

Eddie can’t help but smile as he finishes loading your suitcases.

Steve had run off somewhere to find an ATM; something about needing to tip the attendant who helped you with your luggage, so it’s only you and Eddie in the van when Eddie hops back into the driver's seat. 

It’s silent for a moment, achingly so, and Eddie takes it upon himself to turn the radio on, forgetting that the volume had been amped to the highest level. The music blares through his speakers— nearly blows them out— and Eddie almost jumps out of his seat as he scrambles to reduce the volume, awkwardly laughing as he glances back at you and speaks, “Sorry about that…”

You don’t say anything. Instead, you stay seated, arms crossed over your chest, legs crossed, and your glossed lips pouted in boredom. Eddie turns back to the front, the radio now a soft hum as he taps his decorated fingers on the steering wheel. He purses his lips briefly, his skin itching because Eddie has never done well with silence, so— “You listen to Iron Maiden?” He asks.

“No.” You flatly respond.

Your tone is dull and bored, and Eddie nods again as if it softens the blow. Eddie avoids opening his mouth again, too afraid that whatever comes out will just piss you off even more, so he keeps quiet. But he can’t help it when his gaze flickers up to find you in his rearview mirror, watching as you huff and gaze out the window. 

It’s silent for a few long, crippling minutes before you speak, “Does this thing not have AC?”

Eddie purses his lips, fingertips tapping against his thigh as he shrugs, “Just takes a second.”

You huff, crossing your arms over your chest as you mumble, “Course it does.” 

Eddie lets it fall silent for a moment again, but Eddie’s never been one to like silence, so— “How’s college?”

“Do you usually talk this much?” You suddenly ask, tilting your head and narrowing your eyes at him. Eddie snorts, glancing around the airport for any sign of Steve, and he responds, “No, actually, I usually talk more than this. Wait ‘til you get me going about D&D.” He scoffs. 

Your face twists in confusion, “D&D?”

Eddie waits for a moment before turning to gaze at you. You look at him, an unwavering expression plastered across your face as you wait for Eddie to speak.

“…You don’t know what Dungeons and Dragons is?”

You blink at Eddie, definitely contemplating if you could catch a flight back home before you respond, “Am I supposed to?”

Eddie shrugs, “Well, I mean, it’s only like the greatest game to ever fucking exist.” He stresses.

You roll your eyes and softly groan in disgust, “Ew. If you’re about to nerd out on me, I’d rather walk home in the heat.” You grimace.

And Eddie pauses, contemplating the amount of damage he’ll do if he continues to ramble about his favorite game— then he’ll really have zero chance with you, that’s for sure. But it’s not like he ever had one in the first place, right? 

Eddie turns back around, watching as people bustle around the airport. “Do you like games?” He can’t help but ask.

You take a slow and long breath, gathering your patience before you reply, “I can’t remember the last time I played a game, so no.”

Eddie’s face twists in concern, “What do you do for fun?” He glances in the mirror, watching as you gaze out the window.

You shrug, watching people as you speak, “Spend my dad’s money.”

Eddie lets it fall silent for a moment, a few responses rolling around in his head before you roll your eyes and speak again, “It was a joke. I’m not a spoiled brat.”

“Oh,” Eddie awkwardly laughs before glancing at you. “Well, the heels and cart full of suitcases didn’t exactly sell a ‘humble woman’ picture.”

You laugh then, “I didn’t say I was humble; I said I’m not a spoiled brat.”

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a difference.” You mutter, crossing your arms over your chest. Eddie thinks it’s cute, the way you get flustered by his smart mouth. He wonders how much he can push and prod before you explode.

But before he can respond, Steve is swinging the passenger door open and hoping in, glaring back at you when he speaks, “Next time you come here— and god forbid you do— maybe try to keep the bags to a minimum of two. I just tipped that dude a hundred bucks.” He complains.

You teasingly coo at your step-brother, “Poor Stevie, having to use my dad’s money to pay for things.”

Eddie snorts at that, earning Steve's glare, which quickly directs Eddie’s attention to pull out of the airport. Steve settles in his seat, ignoring your annoyed mood as he grumbles, “Told you she’s an asshole.”

“Not bigger than yours.” You quickly whip back.

Eddie can’t help but chuckle. So, the princess does have humor.

The house is quiet, something you hadn’t expected given how obnoxious Steve is, though you don’t take it for granted as you flip through a magazine and let the TV play in the back.

You don’t like coming into town, you never have. It’s dull and dreary in Hawkins, and you’re not quite sure why your father would give up the sunny California weather for this. Conservative townies that grow and die here— that’s all this town has to offer.

But there’s no point in complaining; you’re stuck here for the whole summer; otherwise, your dad will stop paying for your school. So, you do what you can to take your mind off of it, which includes drifting through magazines and wasting away with shitty TV shows.

Your stepmother has been home from work for nearly an hour, but you hardly give her complete sentences, so she made herself scarce. Her son, however, doesn’t get the memo as he bursts into the room. You say nothing, eyeing him as he sits on the opposite side of the couch and puts on his shoes.

“Get up, we’re going out.”

You train your eyes back on the magazine in your hands as you boredly mumble, “Not interested.”

Steve hums in annoyance as he shoves his right foot into a shoe, “Mom said I have to include you in shit, and I’m not in the mood to get bitched at for your shitty mood, so— get up, we’re going out.” He repeats before standing up to place his hands on his hips and look at you. You glare at him from behind the magazine before closing it, folding it over your stomach as you tilt your head, “And where exactly are we going? I can’t imagine there’s anything fun in this town— at least none that you would know of.” You jeer.

Steve sneers at you, stepping forward to dig the toe of his shoe into your shin, earning an annoyed kick from you. You swat at him with the magazine, striking him and earning a few curse words as Steve rips it from you and tosses it on the coffee table. He huffs as he turns to you with a huff, “Eddie’s band is playing tonight.” 

And that’s rich. It’s incredibly bold of Steve to believe you would ever willingly submit yourself to hear his weird, gross friend spit out nonsense into a mic. As if you hadn’t had enough of them two on the drive here. You scoff, leaning forward to grab your now crinkled magazine before laying back on the couch with a scoff, “Absolutely not.”

Steve snatches the magazine yet again, tossing it onto the opposite side of the couch as he glares down at you, “Too bad.” He snaps, stepping over your legs and walking over to the front door, “I’m leaving in ten,” he grabs his keys off the mantle, “Be ready, or I’ll drag you out myself.”

You watch him walk out with a slam of the door, a refusal dancing on your tongue. And Steve is, in no way, your boss. You’ll cut off your limbs before you let Steve boss you around— but fuck. If his mom is this hellbent on you two spending time together, you’re sure she’ll throw a fit at your refusal, which will ultimately end up being your dad’s problem, and he won’t hesitate to cut you off money-wise. So, with a dramatic huff and an undeniable reluctance, you stomp up to your room and get dressed.

The bar is exactly what you’d imagined— loud, grungy, and somewhere you would never be caught dead in. Yet, here you stand, arms crossed with a tabletop dogging into your lower back and a scowl etched across your face.

The smell of sweat, liquor, and cigarettes wraps around you like a dusty old jacket, sticky floors snapping beneath your shoes with every move you make. The walls are covered in graffiti, posters, and old stickers, and the crowd is primarily full of ripped denim, fishnets, and loud groups of friends.

It's not your scene.

Though you can’t seem to stop watching.

It’s like a movie. Something is happening in every corner of the place, with loud music blaring through the speakers and dancing lights kissing the grimy space. It’s chaotic. It’s noisy and dirty. And you feel so… misplaced.

Your outfit isn’t screaming country club, but it surely isn’t screaming anything close to this.

Steve brought a few other friends along, none of whom you care to learn the names of or attempt to hold a conversation with. You’re too busy trying to ignore the intense burning sensation of smoke in your eyes. 

“So, how long are you in town for?”

You glance over at the girl; you think her name is Robin, and shrug, “Unfortunately, the whole summer.” You sigh.

Robin hums, lips pursing in an apologetic look, “Bummer. Can’t imagine giving up a Californian summer for Hawkins.” 

You huff, something like a grim smile splitting your lips, “Wasn’t exactly my choice, but,” you shrug again, “No point in crying now.”

Robin raises her glass to that and takes a sip, allowing you to turn back to gaze about the room. You catch a few people headbanging near the stage, smiling as they enjoy the music pouring through the speakers. After a few moments, you lean into Robin. “Is it always this… rowdy?” you ask.

Robin follows your eyes to the group of friends by the stage and smiles, “This place was a shit hole a few years back, actually. Wasn’t much of anything, but Corroded Coffin brings some traction and, well, their music is pretty intense, just like their listeners.”

Your face twists in confusion then, “Corroded Coffin?”

Robin smiles with a nod, “Yeah, Eddie’s band.”

You nod and drag in a breath, diverting your attention back to the stage. So these people listen to Eddie’s music, or at least music similar to Eddie’s. You find yourself annoyingly intrigued. 

You gaze at the empty stage that awaits the band, and you hardly realize your mind has wandered as you begin to wonder what kind of show Eddie’s band will put on. Are they any good? You doubt it, honestly— you’re two minutes from a headache already. 

You’re not left wondering for long before the boys step onto the stage— four of them, all incredibly different in style yet cohesive in presentation. 

The lights shift, reds and blues pouring over the stage as the band takes their place, adjusting instruments and whatnot. You recognize Eddie immediately as he steps up to the mic, testing it for feedback.

He looks different up there. He looks like he belongs. Like this is his place, where he’s meant to be. The messy hair that you’d wrinkled your nose towards at the airport fits perfectly beneath the dim, flashing lights. His tattoos almost look as if they’re on display, like this is an art museum, and he is presenting the art on himself, there on the stage beneath the red hues.

He’s wearing a worn-out band tee with a name you don’t recognize, the sleeves cut off, and the sides ripped open just enough to be irritating. You can see his muscles working beneath his skin, tensing and relaxing as he moves about. He adjusts the mic, entirely at ease, like he’s done this a thousand times before. 

He greets the small crowd, humble with the low rumble of his voice, and beside you, Robin hollers out a small cheer that makes you jump— you’d been so lost in watching everyone that you’d almost forgotten you weren’t here alone.

His eyes drift towards the back where you are seated with Steve and his friends, mumbling a low thank you to Robin in the mic before his eyes dance a little to her left, and he meets yours. It’s only for a second before he looks away, and you find yourself relieved not to have been caught in that situation as he glances down at the guitar slung across his body, skilled fingers working the tuning pegs.

And then he smiles to himself.

It’s lazy and confident, the kind of smile that says I know you’re watching.

Your teeth dig into your tongue, your gaze immediately snapping away as if you’ve been caught looking at something you shouldn’t have been looking at. 

And as if he knew you were grappling with your resolve and only aimed to torment you more, the first note crashes through the speaker, and the show begins. 

It’s loud and raw. Nowhere close to the polished music you listen to, but despite your innate desire to hate everything about it— the rowdy crowd, the thrumming of bass on your chest, the chaos of it all— you only find yourself fascinated more than anything.

You sneak a few glances at Eddie every now and then. Quick ones that you will, later on, string together in your mind to create a stop-motion picture. He’s lost in it. He sings like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do besides breathing. His fingers fly over the fret of his guitar like he was born with it in his hands— and he works the stage like it’s nothing. He owns every inch of this room whether you like it or not— and the scary part is… you don’t seem to dislike it.

And as if that isn’t bad enough, Eddie keeps looking at you.

At every glance, no matter how little or discreet you try to be, Eddie’s eyes always find yours first. As if they never left. And in between songs, when he’s changing the tuning of his instrument or addressing the crowd, his eyes drift off towards the back and onto you, lingering long enough for you to feel it. 

And you refuse to react. You know what this is. You know what he’s doing, teasing and provoking your disdain for this night, and you won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you crack.

After what feels like an eternity, the set ends. The bar erupts in applause, hoots, and hollers, and the band thanks them all as they hop down from the stage.

You stay glued to your seat, untouched drink resting on the table beside you as you watch Eddie and his band pack up the stage. You lose interest after some time, eyes going back to watching the different scenes of the room. And you had been so focused on everything around you that you didn’t even notice the curly-headed boy make his way up to you.

“Didn’t peg you for a metal fan, princess.”

You look at him, the devilish smirk on his face as he drags a barstool next to you and swings a leg over— invading your space. You can feel how warm he is, seeping through your clothes and penetrating your very soul as you wonder if he knows the concept of personal space.

“I’m not.” You boredly reply.

His brows raise for a split moment, taunting just like his voice as he asks, “No?”

“No.”

“And yet here you are.” He gestures to the dingy bar. 

You scoff out a humorless laugh, “Not by choice.” 

Eddie grins, shifting on the barstool to let his legs hang more open. You look— just for a second. The thickness of his thighs, the way they strain against his jeans. Stupid. You snap your gaze away before he can notice.

Eddie snags your drink without asking. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” He says, briefly sniffing the drink before deciding it’ll do. His lips press right over the stain of your lipstick. You know he notices. 

Your stomach tenses, but your expression never falters from neutral as you watch him toss the drink back. He drags his pink tongue between his lips, savoring the taste. 

The sight is infuriating. 

“Take drugs before your little show?” You ask, voice dry.

Eddie hums, snapping his tongue at the taste of your drink before pointing a finger at you matter-of-factly, “I did, actually.”

You condescendingly coo, “Must explain your hallucinations then.”

Eddie chuckles, slow and lazy, as if he expected that response. He shifts on the barstool, taking his time to think, swirling his finger around the rim of the glass a few times before tilting his head toward you, “No one’s gonna, like, lose it if you say you liked the show, you know?” He points out. 

Your jaw tightens. 

“I mean,” he continues, “given the few precious hours I’ve gotten to know you,” he places a faux-heartfelt hand over his chest, leaning in like he’s making some grand confession, “I don’t think you’d waste a second being somewhere you don’t want to be.”

You grimace at his theatrical performance. But the worst part?

He’s not wrong.

You hate wasting your time, and you don’t put yourself in situations you can’t stand. But did you really have a choice tonight? Not when Steve’s mom is at home, probably working out a million ways to make your life a living hell by forcing you to spend time with her perfect son.

You shrug, playing it off, “Again, not by choice.”

Eddie hums, clicking his tongue as he shakes his head, “Everyone has a choice, princess.” He lulls, slowly letting a lopsided grin split across his lips when he looks at you. 

The heat that pricks at the base of your neck is aggravating. Not from embarrassment— from irritation. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. And you thank god the lights in here are dim because, god forbid, Eddie sees any physical evidence of his effect on you.

He’d probably misconstrue it and think you liked him. 

You ignore him, “Don’t call me that.” 

Eddie hums, tilting his head like he didn’t hear you, “What? Princess?” 

“Yes.”

He purses his lips briefly, considering, before grinning again, “Would you rather be called Barbie— because those are my top names for you, doll.” He offers. 

Your stomach churns at the thought. 

You visibly cringe then, looking at him as you make a sound of disgust, “Neither.” 

Eddie gives shrugs, “Why not? It fits you.”

You roll your eyes, unable to keep the annoyed look off your face, “Because it’s annoying.” 

“So are you.”

You freeze.

Your eyes snap to him, glaring and hot.  He’s smirking around the rim of your glass before tipping back the rest of the drink like it’s his.

“Excuse me?” You bite out. 

Eddie puts the empty glass down and slides off the barstool with a deep sigh, swinging it back over to the table he’d stolen it from before throwing a wink your way, “Thanks for coming to the show, princess.”

And as he walks away, leaving you steaming, you realize—

This is going to be your entire summer.

The first weeks of summer are miserable.

A thick and relentless heatwave has settled over Hawkins, turning every breath into a chore. It clings to you, wrapping around your bones from the second you wake up to the moment you rest your head on your pillow again. It makes every movement exhausting. 

You spend most of your days sitting in front of a fan, dreaming about California— the cool ocean breeze, the lack of mosquitoes, the ability to breathe without suffocating. 

When the sun begins to dip behind the trees, you escape to the backyard, wasting hours by the pool, dangling your legs in the water, relaxing in the few hours of cool air the evening brings you

At night, you run up the phone bill, flipping onto your back and spending hours talking to friends from school, twirling the cord around your fingers, your friend's voices drifting through the static. You talk about everything— who’s dating who, what parties you’re missing, how much you want to be anywhere but here. 

Inevitably and routinely, Steve ruins it.

He always does.

“Shut up!” He yells from the intercepted line, “Some of us actually want to sleep!” 

You roll your eyes, pressing the phone harder against your ear. You don’t shut up, and you don’t ever plan on it.

Steve isn’t the only problem this summer, though.

No— he’s not even the worst one.

Because for the first time in the history of knowing Steve, he is not the leading cause of your headaches. 

That honor belongs to Eddie Munson.

Eddie is obnoxiously, disgustingly everywhere. 

And you don’t know why.

You’re not sure what path of destruction Steve has chosen, but suddenly, Eddie is constantly in your house. 

It’s like some rotting, stoner apocalypse has overtaken the upstairs— video games blaring, pantry raids, the distinct smell of weed they air out through Steve’s window— it’s twenty-four seven.

And no matter what you do or where you go, Eddie makes sure you know he’s there.

— As you walk past Steve’s room:

“Bring up a soda when you come back, princess!”

“No!”

“Worth a shot.”

— Late at night, when you’re sneakily digging through your stepmother’s stash of chocolate:

“Don’t you get tired of having to match all of your pajamas? I’ve never seen you in regular shorts and t-shirts.”

“Don’t you get tired of wearing that ratty old t-shirt every day?”

Eddie grins, “You noticed. Cute.”

— Or in the backseat of Chase’s car as he drives you to a friend's house:

“You look good today, special occasion?”

“Stop trying to hit on me. Steve, tell your friend to stop hitting on me.”

Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie responds, “I think you like it.” 

“It kills me inside a little, honestly.”

“God, that’s so hot.”

“Gross.”

It’s constant.

It’s guaranteed at this rate that if Eddie is in the vicinity, he’ll find a way to get on your nerves. And the most annoying part of it all is you feel something. There in the pit of your stomach, or sometimes your chest. 

You think it might be early onset asthma from the amount of secondhand smoke you’ve had to endure around him.

That being said, since you’ve spent the past few weeks growing used to Eddie’s constant presence, you can’t help but notice how he has yet to bother you at the bonfire Steve has dragged you to— another courtesy of his darling mother.

You hadn’t seen much of Eddie all night, only at the start of the evening when he had first arrived. And with Eddie and Steve being your only ‘friends’ here and the former having gone missing, you’re kind of pissed when Steve says he’s going off to be with some girl for the night.

“Why can’t you drop me off at home now?” You frown as you storm after your stepbrother. Steve groans, “Because it’s a total boner killer— oh, sorry, I just have to drop off my sister at home real quick,” he mockingly says before cringing, “Are you kidding me? No.” He scoffs.

You’re the one to groan now, stomping after him as he weaves through the cars parked on the hill in front of the lake— “You can’t just leave me here, Steve!” You stress as Steve makes it to his car, which is already occupied by a girl in the passenger seat as she waits for him.

Steve glances at you, “Would you relax? I’m not leaving you stranded; I’ll be gone for an hour— maybe two.” He rolls his eyes when you dramatically groan. “Look, just talk to someone to pass the time. And if you really want to leave, find Eddie.” He shrugs before opening his door.

“I haven’t even seen him all night.” You point out, to which Steve just shrugs again before pointing over your shoulder, “Couldn’t have gone far if his van is still here.”

And sure enough, when you glance over your shoulder, Eddie’s van is parked just a few cars down. You turn back to plead for Steve to take you home but are disappointed to see him already in his car, waving a taunting hand in farewell as he backs out.

Then you’re stranded. You’re stuck, all by yourself, at a bonfire you could care less about with people you don’t even know.

And you miss home more than you can afford to admit.

You find yourself walking towards Eddie’s van, leaves crunching beneath your feet as you grumble your way to the front of the car. Given the height of the vehicle, it's hard, but you manage to climb your way up onto the van's hood, cool metal pressing against your thighs as you settle on it. 

You’re hardly paying attention when Eddie walks up, too busy plotting ways to escape back to your home when he clears his throat. You look up, catching his gaze as he walks up to the front of the van, tilting his head in question as he looks at you perched upon his car.

“Didn’t know you’re so eager to see me, doll.” He smirks.

You roll your eyes, glancing away at the distant flicker of fire, “Don’t flatter yourself; Steve left me stranded here, so I need a ride home.” You grumble at the last part, glaring at him when he hums.

Eddie grins, walking closer until he can turn and rest against the car's grille, “Left you with good company then.” He teases as he digs out a cigarette from his pocket.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the heat of his body seeping into the skin of your leg. “I’d beg to differ.”

He snickers, pearly teeth peeking out behind his grin as he sticks the cigarette between his lips. You watch him light the end of the stick, thin trails of smoke leaving the side of his mouth before he pulls in one quick drag. 

He exhales, a cloud of smoke wrapping around you both as he glances at you, shifting with a deep sigh before he speaks, “So,” he starts, “What’s it like? The whole college thing.”

You think for a moment, glancing at the bonfire some yards away before you shrug, kicking your heel again, “Fast. Loud. Always something going on.” You briefly reply. 

Eddie hums as he takes another drag, “Sounds awful.”

You huff a small laugh, “Yeah, you’d hate it.” You agree— which is true. Most days, you hate it, too.

You nudge him with your foot, suppressing a grin when he nudges you back as you ask, “What about you?”

Eddie snorts, “M’not in college, princess.”

You roll your eyes, “I know that,” you dismiss, “I meant, like… Do you ever plan on leaving this place?”

Eddie hesitates momentarily, distracting himself with his cigarette before he shrugs, “Nah.”

You suspect he’s lying, but he doesn’t give you a chance to pry before he speaks up, “You ever smoked before?”

Your lips curl in disgust, “No. Gross habit.” You grumble.

Eddie glances at you, raising an eyebrow as he takes a drag. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he says, plucking the cigarette from his lips and raising it to you. “Go ahead, princess. Let’s see what you’re made of, " he challenges. 

Your face twists in disgust as you glare at the burning paper between his fingers, “No thanks.”

Eddie hums, tilting his head tauntingly, “Scared?” He teases. 

“No.” You snap.

He wiggles the cigarette at you, “Then take a hit.” He says with a teasing lilt to his voice.

You glare down at him, eyes slightly narrowed— and it’s so stupid. You know Eddie is only doing this as some silly way of provoking you. You know he wants you to do the predictable thing, which is snap back with some witty remark, but as you look at the curly-haired boy smirking up at you with that dark glint in his eye, you know there’s only one thing you have to do.

You take the cigarette.

“Fine.” You grumble. 

Eddie raises a brow as he turns to face you. He now stands before you, watching you turn the burning paper between your fingers. “Pointers?” You ask.

Eddie’s lips twitch in a smirk, boots crunching against the leaves as he steps closer, the chain on his pants brushing against your ankle. “Don’t cough and embarrass yourself.” He teases, to which you roll your eyes, “Helpful.” You mutter. 

He grins as he cages you in, one palm pressed to the hood of the car as the other gestures to the unlit end of the cigarette, “Lips here and just inhale slow; don’t overthink it.” 

You nod, gazing at the cigarette before you shrug and bring it to your lips with not much of a mental preparation— because how hard can it be to smoke a cigarette? Apparently, it’s hard— because one moment you’re breathing just fine, and the next you’re coughing up a lung on Eddie Munson’s car hood.

You cringe, coughing violently as your eyes well up with tears. “Shit—” you hold up the cigarette with a grimace, “People actually like this stuff?” You question with a groggy voice, coughs still sputtering up from your chest. Eddie laughs, a real, guttural laugh, as he takes his gift from you, “Good, right?” He asks.

You shake your head, eyes wild, as you look at him. “No! Not at all, " you stress. “I won’t be trying that again.” You shake your head, watching as he takes a drag, lips pulled into a smirk as he looks at you.

He blows the smoke off to the side, still gazing up at you as he jokes, “You’re already halfway to a badass reputation, princess.”

You roll your eyes, pressing your palms onto the car hood as you slightly lean forward, your body slowly relaxing after having nearly lost a lung. “Right, because sharing a cigarette with a guy like you in the middle of a shitty bonfire is exactly how I pictured my future as a child.”

Eddie rolls his tongue behind his cheek for a moment, his lips twitching with something like a lazy smile before he asks, “A guy like me?”

You hum in confirmation, and he slightly narrows his eyes. “What does that look like?” He asks.

Your eyes dance, something charged dancing between you both that you, upon weak judgment, decide to ignore. 

“Reckless. Irresponsible. Cocky.” You list off.

Eddie hums, feigning understanding, “Bad company for a girl like you, I assume?” He prods. 

And you don’t have to ask what he thinks you are before you nod, “Absolutely.”

It falls silent momentarily, that charged sensation thickening between you both. And maybe you hadn’t been aware of it; perhaps you had been so wrapped up in the conversation, but you’re not exactly sure when Eddie’s hands had gotten so close to yours.

You can feel his warmth; right there, just inches away for you to grasp and sink your palms into. His calloused fingertips are ghostly sensations against your soft knuckles, daring you to inch forward and just touch him. The space between your fingers buzzes, like a current threatening to connect. 

You could do it.

You kind of want to do it.

It would take nothing to close the distance. 

And Eddie? He’s waiting.

His brown eyes— dark and rich like the earth you walk on— flicker downwards and take in the sight of the space between your hands. 

And you know Eddie.

You’ve been around Eddie enough to know that he likes touch; Eddie communicates through it like his words won’t do his warmth justice. So, when his gaze flickers back to you, and there’s that look swimming in his gaze, you know what he wants to do.

You know he wants to let his touch speak for itself.

And you nearly let your desires win.

But in the distance, a bottle crashes, and an eruption of cheers lifts, and you’re back in your body.

Your spine stiffens. Your throat tightens. Your stomach churns. And your fingers curl away from him.

You pull away— not abruptly, but just enough that the moment feels as if it’s lingering like the smoke that had left Eddie’s lungs minutes ago.

You blink, pulling in the crisp summer air as you sit up, putting space where there was none.

“So, can you drive me home or not?”

Eddie blinks, the moment fractured between you— and you think he might speak on it. 

But he says nothing. 

Disappointment swirls in his eyes, barely showing before it’s gone. You take in a breath, glancing away as he pulls back and clears his throat, dusting his thumb across his nose in nervous habit as he nods, “Uh,” he blinks, flicking the cigarette to the ground and crushing it beneath his boot.

You hate the feeling that stirs in your chest, and you hate that you want to fix it. But Eddie nods anyway, fishing his keys from his pocket and forcing a half-hearted smile.

“Yeah, princess, let’s get you home.”

I wanna take you home

I won't do you no harm, no

You've gotta be all mine, all mine

Aw shucks, foxey lady

- foxey lady x jimi hendrix

part two.

cutie teeny taglist: @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @hereforshmut @emxxblog @mdurdenpitt @glassbxttless @peculiarwren @aactuaaltraash @daveythorntonslocker

————

a/n: HIII if you’ve made it this far i hope you enjoyed the first part to this little 5 part series !! i’ve got a packed summer planned for these two so i hope you’ll stick along for the ride :) also, expect smut next chappy hehe. anyway, as always, thank you for reading, ily and appreciate any and all forms of feedback <3

[blitzyn]

pervert

miguel o'hara x spiderman!reader

request : none

Synopsis: A game of cat and mouse goes to shit, and you find yourself bound in Miguel's webs.

a/n -> literally nobody asked for this but he's been stuck in my mind for decades and i wanted to get something out for my bbg <3 also super sorry i disappeared again, writers block straight up bitch slapped me and left me in a ditch, plus ive been losing interest in writing for genshin or just the game in general, unfortunately.

wc -> 3.3k

cw -> very dubcon, mean dom miguel, degradation, bondage?, face fucking, google translated spanish, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, slight and brief choking, (semi) public sex??, not beta read

Exhilaration filled your veins as breathy laughs escaped your throat, weaving through buildings and rubble with the precision of someone who has experienced this type of chase countless times before.

And that's because you have. You've been in a near never-ending game of cat and mouse with the esteemed Miguel O'Hara, always close enough to feel the swipe of his talons in the air but too far to catch. No matter how many times he's cornered you, you always find a way to get past him; it was predictable at this point.

That pissed Miguel off like no other, hellbent on capturing you to put an end to your snide remarks, to put you in your place. While that usually would've enticed you in any other circumstance, you weren't too keen on letting him dig his claws into you now that you were chest-deep in this predicament — and his wrath.

"Stop running, already!" he shouted, the sharp edges of fury evident in his voice.

"I'm not running!" you respond, peering back at him with a smug grin. True to your words, you, quite literally, were not running. You were swinging with the agility of a seasoned acrobat, twisting and flipping through debris while looking like you were having fun. You offered him occasional glances and nearly laughed each time. Seeing him, a grown-ass man, almost constantly on all fours was amusing, but hearing him curse and grunt and growl made electricity shoot down your spine in a way that nearly got you caught several times.

Adrenaline filled your body and threatened to burst through your chest each time you evaded him. "Missed me!" you laughed, juking away from his swipe.

"So close!" you flip over him with a taunt. "Try again next time!"

"¡Voy a matarte!¹" He growls, and it was hard to ignore the shudder that rushed through your body. You slightly winced at the feeling. If you don't get your shit together when he spoke Spanish, then you were asking to get caught.

But it's not like you'd mind — Actually, yes, you fucking would!

You click your teeth in annoyance. Despite how hard you tried, you couldn't remove Miguel from your thoughts even though he was right behind you, hunting you down like a wild animal. Your mind strayed toward his broad shoulders, beautifully tiny waist, fat ass (that you'd give a lot to slap), and the massive piece of rubble being hurled at your body.

You blink out of your stupor, feeling your senses going off rather violently. Oh shit.

Everything seemed to move painfully slow as you stared at the debris with wide eyes, noticing Miguel's red web attached to it as he brought it down. You flung your arm out in an attempt to attach your webs to something and swing away, but was unable to pull yourself fast enough as the debris pinned you down to the roof of a building.

"Fuck!" you thought as you grunted and squeezed your eyes shut, agony tearing through your entire body. Swiftly, you pushed against the ground to shove the heavy object off of you, groaning with effort. Just as you managed to stand back up, you heard the familiar thwip! of his web wrapping around your waist and arms to yank you to him.

"Caught you," he said, voice rough and breathless as he panted hard. He loomed over you menacingly, hands curled into a fist.

You struggled, kicking and straining against your binds. "Come on, Miguel." You offer a tense grin. "We both know this won't last very long."

"Ay dios míos,²" he growled, dropping to a knee to roughly press a hand on your face, his fingers digging into your cheekbones. "¡Cállate!³"

...

Woah.

You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling your cock stir in your pants. Oh fuck.

It was hard to ignore your ever growing attraction (and hard-on) for him that seemed to intensify when he deactivated the hologram of his mask. Sweat beaded at his temple while his eyes narrowed at your bound figure, fangs peeking out from behind his lips as he caught his breath.

Even when you were the target of his anger, he was still breathtakingly hot.

You opened your mouth again to shout at him — probably to let you go or something along those lines — but Miguel wasn't having it.

"Why is it so much to ask for you to keep your fucking mouth shut for once?" he hissed, squeezing your cheeks tight enough to ache, but it only went straight to your dick. "Is that all you can do? Run your mouth until someone gets sick of your shit and shuts it for you? Huh?"

You whimpered, meekly shaking your head in denial. Tightly closing your eyes, you swallowed hard and squirmed, secretly trying to will away your hard cock straining against your clothes.

"You're so annoying! Stop moving," he demanded, reflexively looking down to adjust his position over you. His eyes raked over your body for a moment before zeroing in on your erection, pausing in surprise.

.

..

...

"Oh, you pervert."

Your eyelids snapped open at his words, mortification seeping deep in your chest as you shifted your head away from him in shame. Despite everything, you could only feel yourself getting harder under his intense gaze.

"Is that why you made me chase after you?" He forced you to look at him again, your face aching at his manhandling. "Because you wanted to fulfill some dirty fantasy of yours?"

He let out a dry laugh. "You couldn't find anyone willing to satisfy that depraved urge, so you turned to me. Just how desperate are you?"

You shook your head again, letting out muffled words. He mercifully removed his hand from your mouth to allow you to speak, sliding lower to rest on your throat. "I was just playing..."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head mockingly, momentarily adjusting himself to grope your painfully stiff dick. "And this was your master plan? To get off at the face of danger? You're more of a degenerate than I thought."

"N-No, I didn't—" you moaned, reflexively bucking your hips up into his hand.

"Stop lying." He squeezed the hand around your throat just enough to force labored gasps from you. "It's stupid how you don't think I've seen the way you look at me — how you think I haven't noticed you eyefucking me."

A furious blush rises on your cheeks as your cock twitches in his hold. It doesn't go unnoticed.

He laughed again, staring at you in mock disbelief. "You're enjoying this."

And this time, you don't deny it.

"Can't say I expected anything higher from you." He rolled his eyes in exasperation and removed his hands from your throat and dick to place them on your thighs. Effortlessly, he pried them apart to slot himself in between your legs, pressing his crotch flush against your ass.

Groaning, you lifted your hips a bit in an attempt to grind on him. With a growl, he swiftly slapped a hand on your abdomen to push you back on the ground.

"Don't move," he said, glaring at you with a mix of arousal and irritation in his eyes. "I've had enough of you getting your way." He leaned forward, a wince crossing your face when he pressed some of his weight onto your stomach. "It's my turn."

"My way—?" You cut yourself off with a huff when he gave you a stern look.

A thought seemed to pique his interest when he suddenly decided to kneel beside your head. It was nigh impossible to tear your eyes away from his crotch, the area beginning to glitch with a dim, pale blue glow at the strain from his hardening cock.

"Let's put your mouth to better use." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and deactivated the hologram covering his dick. It landed on your face with a quiet slap before his hand guided it to your lips.

You hesitantly parted them, only for them to be forced open wider to make room for his cock. You let out a surprised sound at the entry, but he was entirely focused on making you take him completely.

He was gracious enough to take it slow, relishing in the sounds of your gags and sputters and every deep inhale.

"Thaaat's it," he drawled out, sighing heavily when he felt your tongue rub against the underside of the shaft. "Fuck..."

Your eyelashes fluttered as he buried your nose into his pubic hair, uncontrollably drooling over him while you sucked and licked what you could. You felt him harden in your mouth, forcing himself deeper into your throat while it tightened and spasmed.

He increased the speed of his thrusts, absentmindedly shuffling closer to your face. A shiver ran down your spine when he slithered a hand on the junction between the back of your head and neck to hold you firmly.

A garbled whine left your throat as you subconsciously jerked your hips upwards, searching for some form of relief for your aching cock. You strained against the webs around your torso and arms, utterly intoxicated with his taste, his scent, his sounds—with him.

With a groan, he shoved himself as far as he could inside your throat and held you in place, ignoring how you instinctively struggled against him. A high-pitched ring sounded through your ears as your head spun, chest tightening with the need for oxygen.

Shuddering, he finally pulled out of you, watching with satisfaction as you coughed and gasped for air. A mix of saliva and precum connected your lips and the tip of his cock, to which you quickly licked away. You let him inspect you with a hand still buried in your hair, gaze locked in on your drool slicked chin and swollen lips.

A quiet hmph left him before he turned to place himself back in-between your thighs again, this time extending his talons to tear a path in your clothes from your ass to your crotch.

"H-Hey! Hold on—" you protested and kicked his arm away from you.

"Shut up," he cut you off, swatting your foot away while grasping your painfully hard cock again. "Don't act like you don't want this."

"G-God..." you moaned, furrowing your brows as you stared at him. A squeak left your throat when he suddenly pressed your legs to your chest, a quiet ptuh! escaping his lips alongside a glob of saliva that landed on your asshole.

Retracting his talons, he let go of one of your legs to press two fingers against your hole, shoving them inside you abruptly. You winced at the sting his thick fingers made as it mixed in with the arousal that burned in your gut. He separated them in a scissoring motion, moving in and out at a pace that had you yearning for more. His fingertips brushed against spots so frustratingly close to your prostate, you were sure he was purposefully avoiding it to mess with you.

"H-Hurry up," you demanded, the ache in your balls beginning to prove to be something you could hardly handle.

He gave you a sharp look. "Tell me to hurry up again and I'm leaving you like this."

You stared at each other for a moment longer before you looked away in defeat, muttering under your breath. He ignored you and added another finger, the wet squelching blending in with your soft moans. His hard cock pressed on your thigh, and you briefly wondered how he wasn't fucking you within an inch of your life already.

Quickly enough, you were able to realize that he wanted to make you wait. He wanted to give you a hard time — just like you did to him.

"C-C'mon, Miguel." You breathlessly chuckled, straining against the webs around your torso.

"What?" He raised a brow, satisfaction seeping into his expression at your growing desperation.

You opened your mouth again when he unexpectedly jabbed his fingertips onto your prostate, sending a violent surge of electricity through your body. "Fuck!" You cried out as a spurt of precum leaked out of your dick and enlarged the wet spot on your clothes. He continued targeting the gland, refusing to let you get a word in your sentence. The coil in your abdomen tightened into an almost unbearable degree before he abruptly removed his hand from you entirely.

"God, just fuck me already!" You jerked your hips upwards in a futile search for stimulation.

"You sound just like a whore," he commented, tone full of condescension. A heat washed over your body at his words as you stared at him with wide eyes. You tensed when he leaned down, lust and mirth swirling within his red irises. "Is that all you are?"

"What?" You found yourself unable to look away from him. "N-No, I—"

He shoved his cock inside you mid-sentence, tearing a loud moan from your throat. He held your thighs to fold you in half, using his body weight to pin you down. You panted hard as you tilted your head to the side and squeezed your eyes shut. It was hard to focus on anything else but his dick filling you up so perfectly.

Miguel released a gutteral groan, grinding his hips against you. He dug his fingertips into your legs hard enough to bruise, but that was the least of his worries — not when he had you below him. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he leaned back (mercifully removing some of the pressure on your chest) and watched himself move in and out of you, pulling out almost all the way before he slammed himself back inside.

"Ohh, fuck!"

"This is what gets you — mierda⁴ — all compliant, huh?" He taunted, abdomen flexing with every thrust. "The moment you get some dick inside you, you're like a trained mutt."

You opened your eyes to weakly glare at him, to deny what he said, but the moans spilling from your lips did nothing but prove him right.

"Te gusta cuando te trato como si no fueras nada, ¿no?⁵" He leaned back down, hooking his arms around the back of your knees as he pressed his chest against yours, curling his wrists around your thighs to grip the flesh. His breath was hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, lips so close you could feel the vibrations of his voice in your ear drum. "Aren't I right, you dirty little pervert?"

"N-No! S'not right!" You cried out, the burn of his cock stretching you out mixing in with the pleasure so deliciously it was almost addicting.

"Deja de mentirte y admítelo, puta,⁶" he hissed, widening his mouth to graze a fang along your neck threateningly, which sent a shiver down your spine. "Admit it — that you're a depraved whore."

"Admit it." He emphasized each syllable with a thrust, ramming into you hard enough to fuck the breath out of your lungs.

"Shit—fuck! Oh, god!" You sobbed, arching your back into him. You nearly came at the feeling of his abdomen rubbing your aching dick. "I'm a whore! M'your whore!"

His cock throbbed fervently at your words, rewarding you with groans and grunts directly into your ear. Your ass slightly stung at the force of his thrusts as he fucked his anger into you, but neither of you cared.

"Fuuuck!" You drawled out. "Miguel, m'so close! Let — ngh, ah — Let me cum!"

"Yeah?" He cooed in your ear, gently licking the shell. "You gonna cum f'me?"

"Yes, yes—!"

"Then beg."

He stopped moving so unexpectedly that it left you disoriented for a few moments as you stupidly stared at him with wide, watery eyes. "W-What...?"

"Beg to cum," he leaned away from you to get a clearer look at your face. "I'm not repeating myself."

You took a moment to catch your breath (and secretly savor the feeling of his dick twitching inside you). "God, please, Miguel! I need it so bad. I need to cum — please let me cum! I'll be good, I promise! Fuck, Miguel, please let me cum! Please, please, please!"

The sight of the tears along your lash lines sent electricity down his spine as his breath hitched. "You'll be good?" He dryly laughed. "I don't think I believe you."

You opened your mouth in defense when he suddenly slammed himself back inside you, tearing a moan instead of words from your throat. He fucked you hard and fast and deep, grunting in a way you could only describe as animalistic.

But you loved it. You loved how he controlled your body so effortlessly, how he treated you like a cheap fuck toy. You mentally deemed all those chases worth it in the end.

The heat from less than a minute or two prior returned full force as you tilted your head back in ecstasy. You babbled out incoherent words of (what Miguel suspected to be) praise, straining against your binds once again.

You screamed out when the coil in your abdomen finally snapped, electricity shooting down your spine as your cock spurt cum underneath your clothes. You weren't able to process the stain in the fabric when you realized that he hadn't slowed down, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm to chase his own.

You stared up at him, admiring the slight flush on his cheeks, how his brows furrowed in concentration, and even his eyes that shone with disdain towards you.

You could feel his dick throbbing inside you, and you quickly realized that he was about to cum as well. The ecstasy you were granted slowly began to merge with the pain of overstimulation, but it only made the hazy bliss you were in so much better.

"Yes, yes, Miguel!" You gasped out as your legs trembled in his hold. "Cum inside me, please, I want it!"

He grunted at your words, fucking you with a few more harsh thrusts before he suddenly pulled out. It took you a moment longer than normal for you to process the uncomfortable emptiness as he let go of one of your legs to quickly jerk himself off.

"What—No! Please, Miguel!" You pleaded uselessly, wincing when he tightened his grip on your thigh and unintentionally extended his talons. They penetrated through your clothes and pierced your skin, drawing a bit of blood, but that was neither of your concern at the moment.

"Ay, solo cállate ya,⁷" he growled, releasing your thigh to press his palm against your mouth to silence you. You let out pathetic whines and whimpers, but Miguel was focused on achieving his orgasm.

With a final few strokes, he finally came with a loud groan as his cum spurt onto the floor. He angled his hips to make sure none of it landed on you, much to your obvious dismay. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back and stared at your bound body, trembling and helpless. It was satisfying to see you in such a state.

He reactivated the hologram over his softening cock before binding your legs together in a way that hid the large hole in your pants to prevent anyone from figuring out what the two of you did.

He sighed heavily and slung you over his shoulder, standing up to look around and figure out where the fuck he was.

"You have a really nice ass," you commented after a moment, unable to keep your compliments to yourself.

He groaned. It was gonna be a long trip back to HQ.

Translations:

1: "I'm going to kill you!"

2: "Oh my god."

3: "Shut up!"

4: "Shit..."

5: "You like it when I treat you like you're nothing, don't you?"

6: "Stop lying to yourself and admit it."

7: "Oh, just shut up already."

cross-posted on ao3

[sparkbeast20]

Jjyu's crisis

Since I enjoy any content with Jjyu, Part 3 and 4 give what I need lol

I heard dirty Bitch and slut from his flithy tiny mouth, my son. How could you

Lol love the new expression they added for him

This is worst than what happened with Ppyong in Chapter 5

Jjyu: Why is Beelzebub is here!!! Was he suppose to be off somewhere doing some stupid shit!!!

That's the vibe I got from this

Dude, this is Satan!!! Anything bad to us, he'll fucking be the king of Wrath!!! This is what I love him!!!

OH!!! If Beelzebub is pissed off, you know that this is bad

Well, Leviathan is always angry/mad at something or someone. So there's nothing with him lol

Stop!!! The baby is scared!!!

[meangirls-imagines]

Revenge of the Nerds (but like, hotter)

WARNINGS: none really. y/n kicks shane oman's ass. regina is kinda turned on. regina takes care of reader.

BASED ON THIS REQUEST: @droppedmyhotpocket: For your requests, unless you already have some, you could do Regina with a shy reader that ends up like beating someone up for talking bad abt Gina ☺️ honestly I would do it too like no lie

Okay.

Let's start from the beginning.

Y/N Y/L/N and Regina George have been dating practically since seventh grade. The news broke when Jason Weems told the entire school that he saw Regina and Y/N making out by the softball fields.

Regina embraced it, making a show out of kissing Y/N in front of everyone at lunch. From that point on, everyone knew not to mess with Y/N, or they would face Regina's wrath.

Well, almost everyone.

Enter Shane Oman.

Quarterback of the football team. Hottest guy in school. (According to him).

For the longest time, he had pined over Regina. Years even. He was one of the only ones in school that had a problem with Regina and Y/N being a couple. He believed it should've been him.

Y/N wasn't fit for Regina in his eyes. She was a nerd, she didn't talk to anyone but the Plastics. He just didn't get it.

Him and Regina would make the perfect prom king and queen in his eyes and he would do anything to make it happen.

He could never get close to Y/N due to Regina and the plastics always being around her, so he needed to plan. There was only one instance where Y/N was alone, right before lunch. That's when he was going to execute his plan: plant insecurities, make them break up, win Regina.

He had no idea of the shit storm that was about to happen.

Y/N was stood near the entrance to the cafeteria, looking down at her textbook. She was reading an excerpt out of her history book when it was knocked out of her hands.

She sighed and looked up to find Shane Oman standing smugly in front of her. "Can I help you with something Shane?" He scoffed. "Yeah, actually. Stay away from Regina. She doesn't want you." It was Y/N's turn to scoff. "Shane, you come at me with this same argument every week, dude. Let it go."

She reached down to grab her history book but it was kicked away by Shane. "Your guard dog isn't around to help you, nerd. You’re in my territory now." Y/N sighed, standing up straight again. "For the last time, Regina isn't my guard dog." She could feel the rage beginning to boil over.

Shane smirked. "Oh. My bad. She's actually your bitch."

What happened next shocked not only Shane, but the group of students that had gathered to watch the exchange.

Y/N cocked her arm back and swung as hard as she could, clocking Shane in the eye, knocking him on the ground. She proceeded to take advantage of Shane being stunned and began to wildly swing on the boy.

He shook himself out of it and began to fight back, landing a few good (really good) hits on Y/N. Coach Carr happened to be walking down the hall when he saw the commotion. He immediately pushed through the group of students, effectively breaking thought up, dragging the two to Principal Duvall.

Regina George was on a mission. Her combat boots smacking against the vinyl floor of the hallway as she stomped her way to Principal Duvall's office. His secretary opened her mouth to scold the blonde but quickly shut up at her glare.

She barged into the office, startling all three in the room. Her rage increased at the sight of her sweet, teddy bear of a girlfriend nursing a bloody face and a forming black eye. "What did Shane do?" Principal Duvall spoke up. "Ms. George, this doesn't concern you." Regina gave the man her famous ice bitch glare which shut him up.

She softened at the sight of her girlfriend. "What did Shane do?" Shane spoke up. "That bitch needs to be on a leash Regina! She's crazy!" The blonde whipped around, getting in the boy's face.

"The next words that come out of your mouth better be "I'm sorry for ruining your perfect face Y/N" or you will be receiving your meals through a fucking tube for the rest of your pathetic life. Do you understand me?" Shane nodded rapidly, shutting his mouth and remaining silent.

Regina smirked and faced back to Y/N. "What did he do baby?" Her tone was noticeably softer than before. Y/N went through the whole story, explaining how Shane insulted Regina and pushed her over the edge.

Regina took a deep breath and looked at the principal. "So how long is Shane suspended for?" Mr. Duvall stuttered. "Well, Regina. You have to understand, Y/N swung first." The blonde glared. "Shane called me an inappropriate name and shoved my girlfriend. It was self defense."

Duvall stuttered again. Regina held a hand up. "I would hate for my father, who puts a good chunk of his salary into this school, to get word that the principal is allowing LGBTQ+ students to get assaulted for being who they are." She smiled that devilish smile, making Mr. Duvall swallow nervously.

Shane got suspended for a whole week while Y/N just got sent home for the day. Luckily for her, Regina decided to skip and take Y/N to her house. Y/N's parents were notorious for always traveling for work so they were never home. Because of this, Y/N was usually at the George household.

After Regina had treated Y/N's injuries, (and kissed every single one), the couple snuggled up on Regina's huge bed, watching Love Island. Regina was the big spoon tonight, adamantly saying that cuddles will heal Y/N faster.

After a few episodes, Regina noticed that Y/N was fast asleep on her chest. She smiled, setting an alarm for Y/N to take more painkillers before falling asleep herself, dreaming of Shane Oman.....

Getting eaten by lions.

[writingsofwesteros]

All of these thoughts are delicious, but I can immediately imagine it being Viserys. His daughter with Alicent was always ambitious, though this particular occurance was born from the necessity to protect her family. They had all seen just how little their father cared for them when it came to his prized daughter and it was enough to create a divide within the family, a deep cavern that would be nearly impossible to fill. Alicent's daughter learned from the world around her, always more of an observer than an actual player in life's game, a fact that made her a different type of dangerous. Perhaps if she were interested in someone that could match her head on, she would've paired herself with Larys, or more appropriately, Aemond. But alas, her cunningness led her down the path of "greatness", as in the words of Otto Hightower.

Borrowing a trick from her mother, the daughter hatches a plan to strengthen her claim to their father's heart and secure their future through seizing the throne. She feels like a cheap whore the way she dumbs herself down to pretend like she wasn't vastly more knowledgeable than Viserys in regards to their history, or any other subject as he seemed to be severly lacking in several areas. It takes no time for her to worm her way into his bed, playing innocent and allowing him to mount her the first few times, moaning wantonly and clinging to him like he was her only lifeline. As he thrusts inside her desperately, all she can do is feel self satisfied over her amazing acting skills. It was evident that Viserys never remembered anything regarding Alicent's children, especially since it was a big ordeal within the castle when the servants had found blood on her sheets from an unexpected late night hook up with Aegon in their youth. Even after facing Alicent's wrath and ridicule, that didn't stop them from enjoying the occasional romp.

One night she whispers cutely to Viserys that she had recieved a dirty book from her handmaiden and wished to test out the position. He was immediately on board, though worried about how his "innocent" daughter would fare doing something so lewd. He's quickly shut up when she ties him down like a professional and wastes no time slowly torturing him with the thought of fucking her. She blindfolds him and rubs her tits in his face, climbing on the bed and teasingly rubbing his red cock through her folds and chuckling when he attempts to enter her. Alicent's daughter isn't going to let him get away with treating her the way he did her mother when she is his new wife, teaching him patience and making him eat her out from behind, her creamy pussy suffocating him. She doesn't let him get a break, making him work hard to learn her sensitive areas and the quickest way to make her cum.

Once she believes he is decent enough at the job, she slowly slides his cock in her sensitive pussy and gives him the ride of his life. His fragile heart stutters as she fucks his cock in and out of her tight cunt as if she had to rush to do something after she finished. His poor cock is abused by her tight grip and unrelenting pace, Viserys swearing his daughter is going to snap his cock in half with her vigorous movements, though says nothing and enjoys his slice of heaven. Alicent's daughter is going through it as she finally takes the liberty of fucking him, honestly feeling disgusted yet turned on by how submissive she had him already. She always loved when Aegon would let her take her frustration out on him instead of their usual wrestling match that left the servants extra busy come cleaning time. Feeling him start to pulse inside her helps bring her closer to her edge as her plan is that much closer to being achieved and she races to the finish line by swirling her fingers around her clit.

Alicent's daughter fucks him like he's her bitch a few more times before untying him and leaving him covered in their combined juices, his face red from embarrassment and vision blurry as he watches her slip her dress on and walk out like nothing had happened, his cum dripping from her cunt still. Viserys can't tell if he got punked, but he definitely knows that 1. He's not unhappy she fucked him so hard he wasn't able to walk to dinner, and 2. He's going to definitely need to marry her since it's obvious he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about her after that night 👑💀

SO DELICIOUS !!

[ladydarkfics]

Undivided Attention One

Summary: You not paying attention to him really bugged him.

Warning: this story contains Dark Themes one who cannot handle.

Notes: unedited.

You weren’t a fan, you hate them. After they arrived to save you and your parents it was already to late, they thought you were dead. You laid there pretending. Scared out of your mind as your coated in their blood.

“Dumb fucks,” Homelander scoffs

“We should have arrived earlier,” Maeve stated as she looked down at the gruesome scene.

“Think of it this way, we could go back to what we were doing huh” He smiles as he grabs her.

“Now cmon, let the police deal with this shit, wasting our fucking time,” He grumbles.

You never knew their true colors till that day. You were found by cops who rolled you out on a gurney.

You were frozen, there was nothing you could do to save them. It just happened—poof and they’re gone. Exploded into a million of pieces, literally.

You had a little brother to look after. He’s your pride and joy. The only one you have left. You needed to be strong, for him.

“Sissy! look Homelander!!” He points up to the sky. You look at his direction and there he was. Sitting on the edge of a building. You catch his gaze and quickly you freeze. Just like that night.

“Yeah, cmon we gotta get you to school,” you ignore him, you ignore every superhero. It hard when your brother is obsessed with them. Your heart tightens as you think about it. How could you tell something like that to a child.

You’re not gonna ruin him, he must stay pure. Maybe when he’s old enough—old enough to know what went down that night.

As you dropped your brother off, you sped up to work. An office job that’s enough to maintain you and your little brother.

“I’m going to need you to organize the plans for the new company party,” Alexa, your supervisor barges in.

“New company?” You ask unaware of what the plans are. Not until she drops papers on your desk. You pick them up and the big words on the front page; Vought. “What’s going on Alexa?” you asked.

“Vought bought the company, but don’t worry, everything will stay the same, we’re getting new recruits,” She explained. You nod gesturing that you understood.

You looked through the plans, this is un-fucking-believable. They’re just handing it over, to a company that doesn’t care less about anyone. It was corrupt and not okay. You had to do something. This was the point where you wish you had powers. To help people who understand the wrath of corruption.

There was a party to show our appreciation to them. Superheroes would be there. You immediately requested for that night off.

“No can do, this is big and we need all hands on deck,” she stated. You sigh you knew you couldn’t do this alone. So you suggest,

“Can I bring my little brother, he’s been dying to meet The Seven, and I don’t think I would be able to get a babysitter,”

“yeah but don’t tell the others I don’t want them bitching to me right now.” She waves you off.

At least your little brother would be there. He helps you in so many ways and he doesn’t even know it. Without him you don’t think you would be here.

“This is awesome” He exclaims. You’ve never seen him this happy and excited before. This really is worth it.

You dressed him in a tux with his shirt being bright pink. You two are matching. Your dress was perfect with silver and pink lining. The it was tight but leading to your legs it fluffed a bit up.

You’ve never been this confident. You really felt good for once.

“Homelander!” Your brother’s yelling snapped you out of your thoughts. Your brother makes a move and pulls you along. You then again freeze and let him before you could fully think straight.

“Well hello, what’s your name,” He greeted with his pearly white teeth. You felt sick, just looking at him knowing he’s putting on a mask. How could someone be like this.

“Nathan, I always wanted to meet you, sir you’re my idol,” You never heard a full sentence come out of him. You were taken aback.

“Okay cmon let’s go,” You pulled him away from Homelander, you don’t trust him, who knows what he could do. You didn’t make eye contact, you didn’t want to.

He noticed—noticed that you paid him no attention. He didn’t think anything more about it.

“Sissy you think our parents could have been saved?,” you almost broke you neck of how quickly you looked at him. You two were on top of the building, looking down at the city view.

“Why do you say that,” you ask, you were scared he knew more than what you told him, how could he possibly know.

“These boys at my school make fun of me because they died, I wish I could have super powers, they’d probably be here,” he looked down

Your heart broke, you never once considered he was thinking these awful thoughts. He’s just a boy. “oh baby,” you hug him. “I promise you, I won’t ever leave. I’ll always be here-“

You were cut off my the sound of a door opening. There he was the man in the striped cape. You push Nathan closer to you. There wasn’t anyone around. Who knows what could happen. Anyone would believe the superhero.

“Homelanderr!” Your brother Nathan exclaims, before you could hold on to him he runs to him. Hugging the superhero,

“Hello little one, how are you,” He looks down at Nathan. Your hands were together playing with one hand, out of nervousness.

“Good, sissy showing me the city from here!” and with that his feelings of sadness was gone. You couldn’t bring to tell him anything about your parents. He just a kid.

“Well you know I can show you how it looks from the actual sky,” He’s suggesting and you quickly snap out of your thoughts.

“No!” You grab Nathan scared he’ll just take him from you. You quickly catch yourself, “I mean no we don’t want to bother you,” He could hear your heart thumping. You were nervous.

“But sissy-“

“I said no Nathan,” Your voice sounded shaking even though you intended it to be more stern.

“well I have no problem-“

“no I think it would be best if we went home,” You smile at him. It was clearly fake but Homelander felt something.

He didn’t know what it was. Interest? “Right, maybe another time kiddo,” He smiled at him and then looks back at you, making you break eye contact and move your attention to Nathan.

“Will there be another time?,” He asks Homelander. You look at your little brother wishing he would just stop talking.

“We’ll see,” he answers. You could feel his gaze, you wanted to get out of this situation. It didn’t feel good.

[illubean]

Hi, I just stumbled onto your blog and I love your writing. If you’re accepting requests then can I please request Chorollo, Illumi, and Feitan with a s/o reader similar to Shizuo Hewajima from Durarara. Basically they’re crazy strong without any enhancements and when they get angry their known to throw cars, vending machines, street signs, etc. maybe they get caught in the cross fire when the reader is attacking someone who pissed them off and are amazed by the readers natural strength. Please and thank you.

HXH W/ a ShizuoHewajima!S/o

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck, Chrollo Lucilfer, Feitan Portor Type: Crack, Headcanons, Gn!Reader

i never actually watched Durarara but...hes kind of fine.....

Warnings: violence but it's silly

Illumi Zoldyck

you guys met under odd circumstances

he was out with Hisoka for...whatever reason and both of them turned around at the sudden scream of the magicians name

his face goes paler than it already is before he turned to Illumi and was like "Well, I gotta run now. Tata!"

and you are literally sprinting after the clown at full speed wielding a stop sign that still had bits of concrete attached to it's base

and Illumi's like that's weird I don't sense any aura from them

the next time he encounters you is at a bar, where he was to meet his red haired companion once again

you apologize for him having to see you chase down Hisoka like that, explaining that you don't particularly like violence but your anger get's the best of you

he was already intrigued that you were assumedly able to rip a stop sign out of the ground so naturally he asks you about it

"So I take it you're an enhancer?" "Enhancer of what?"

now he is even more interested

do you have some sort of nen ability that even yourself didn't know about?

and then Hisoka is like no, they just strong like that

and he's like Oh.

every time he has seen an exhibition of your strength, Hisoka had always been on the receiving end of your wrath

and he decides that even though you may or may not be nenless, you are powerful enough to be made into his spouse one day

Chrollo Lucilfer

bro was in a disguise just walking around town when he first met you

as he was walking he saw some dude get tossed through a shop window with a table following suit

"AND STAY OUT YOU SON OF A BITCH! I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR YOUR SHIT"

Chrollo peeked through the broken to see you standing there, angrily and seemingly underpaid

and he was surprised that it was you who managed to throw both a grown man and a table through a window and across the street

you seemed like every average person so how the hell did you even do that?

and being the crazy yet curious guy he is he steps in through the broken window and you're like oh fuck that was unprofessional

and you chat and you tell him you don't like absolutely bodying people like that but your body has a mind of it's own when angry

and you apologized to him for almost catching him in the crossfire

bro asks for your number then boom you start dating

and he's learned how to avoid ticking you off

yeah, sometimes he makes you mildly angry and gets a mug or two chucked at him but he has yet to be on the receiving end of a literal boulder or large household appliance

Feitan Portor

it was him

he was the one that managed to piss you off

how? who knows

but you are chucking very large pieces of rubble in his direction and he's kind of regretting whatever he said though he'd never admit it

he's encountered many strong people in his life but you're lifting literal boulders WITHOUT nen?

scary

he's probably watched you have a lifting competition with Uvo and win

how the hell did you win against a literal beefy giant!? he will never know

at some point in yorknew, you lifted an entire police car above your head and tossed it like it was nothing

and he develops some sort of silent respect for your strength

he thinks its kind of hot

sorry i have no clue where to go with this

[chvoswxtch]

confession

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: one confession changes everything.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of guns, bombs, blood & violence

word count: 5.5k

a/n: dun dun dunnnnnn. i hope y'all are hungry for drama, bc that's exactly what i whipped up. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

The second you burst through the door to Billy’s office, three sets of eyes were immediately on you. A look of pure annoyance settled on Frank’s face when he saw that you had directly disobeyed his order to wait in the truck, and he instantly began to stalk over towards you while grunting under his breath. 

“I told you to wait in the-“

Something in your eyes must have caught his attention, because Frank abruptly stopped dead in his tracks and the irritation plastered on his face quickly shifted into a look you weren’t familiar with seeing on his hardened features. 

Fear.

The movement of someone hastily rising from their chair caught your eye, and your lethal gaze completely bypassed Billy’s evident look of surprise to land on the culprit of your imminent wrath. 

“Y/N, oh thank God. Where the hell have you been? Everyone has been looking for you for-“

Crack. 

The moment your fist collided with Steven’s face, pain shot through your knuckles, and you tore your hand away as if you had touched a hot stove top, clutching your hand to your chest with a tight grimace on your face as you groaned. 

“Oh, fuck!”

Billy’s dark brows rose significantly up his forehead, and his jaw went slack in astonishment. Frank’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he gawked at you in complete shock. Below you, Steven was on the ground, holding his nose and groaning in agony as deep streams of crimson slipped through his fingers. 

“Jesus fucking Christ! What the fuck was that for?” 

“It was you, you son of a bitch!”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about-”

“No I don’t, what the fuck is your problem? You on your period or something, that why you’re acting so fucking crazy?”

Steven’s words only fueled your rage and made you completely blindsided by your own anger. You weren’t thinking clearly, and when Billy came around his desk to stand beside you to assess the situation, you reached out to quickly pull his gun from his holster to aim it directly at Steven, whose expression of exasperation swiftly morphed into pure panic as he stared up at the barrel of the gun in your hand. 

Billy immediately lept into action, grabbing onto your wrist tightly with his right hand to push the gun’s barrel away from Steven’s face while his left hand gripped onto your arm to lock it in place. 

“Whoa whoa whoa, easy, darlin’.”

Behind you, Frank’s boots thudded heavily against the floor in a rush, and you soon felt the heat of his palm against your lower back through the thin material of your shirt. His other large hand reached over Billy’s to grip onto the barrel of the gun, keeping you from pointing it where you wanted to. Normally being so close to Frank that you could feel the tickle of his warm breath against your ear would’ve sent a shiver trickling down your spine, but the fury you felt seemed to singe every nerve ending that would’ve otherwise been affected by the juxtaposition of his gruff voice pleading gently with you. 

“Easy, sweetheart. Gimme the gun. Whatever you think you wanna do right now, you don’t.”

“I want him to admit it.”

Steven swallowed thickly as you spit your venom at him through gritted teeth. Your eyes hadn’t left his once since they locked onto him when you stepped into Billy’s office. He wiped the blood lingering above his thin top lip with the sleeve of his shirt, staining the crisp white fabric a deep shade of maroon, and raised both of his hands slowly in a show of surrender as he stared up at you in trepidation.

“Y/N…whatever you think I did-“

“I don’t think. I know. You’re behind the Defenders of Freedom. All of this shit-all the people that have been hurt, all the people that have died-I almost died because of you.”

Steven let out a nervous chuckle as he shook his head slowly, moving to sit up on his knees as he stared up at you in bewilderment. 

“What? That’s…that’s crazy. I was attacked by them. I don’t know why you would-“

Before he could utter another lie, you lifted your phone in your other hand that wasn’t still gripping onto the gun and started playing the recording you had, causing the entire room to go silent.

“Price! We got a fucking problem here! You said she was supposed to be alone, man. Well she’s not fucking alone! Someone’s fucking here and they’re-“

Cavella’s voice was cut off by the sound of bullets ricocheting around your kitchen. Steven’s eyes went wide with terror once you stopped the recording, a look of fear flashing through them that you had only ever seen Frank bring out in him. That look had power surging through your veins; to finally have that sense of strength over a man who had tried to make you feel small and brittle the entire duration of your relationship. It was intoxicating to be able to stare down into his petrified gaze.

Frank and Billy both immediately went rigid once the recording stopped. Billy’s look of concern for you all of a sudden morphed into an accusatory glare as he slowly turned his head to look down at Steven. One by one, he untangled his fingers from around your wrist and let go of your arm, turning to face Steven fully and stare him down as he towered over him. 

“Frank, let go.”

“Bill-“

“Let her have it.”

“She don’t know how to use it-“

“She’s about to learn.”

The icy edge to Billy’s voice momentarily suspended your anger, and your lips parted slightly, noticing the look of pure disdain clenched in his jaw. Frank slowly came into view beside you, his large hand still clamped around the barrel of the gun, and when you turned to look at him, you could see the anger and concern clashing in his eyes. A muscle feathered in his jaw as he stared into your eyes, the internal battle displayed in the reflection of his almost like a play. You could see his hesitation to let go as much as you could see his own desire to follow Billy’s direction. 

Glancing down at his own hand on the gun, his brows furrowed slightly, and he exchanged a knowing glance with Billy. Giving you one final look, he let out a deep exhale through his large nose, relinquishing his hold on the gun and removing his hand from your lower back to take a step backwards to give you some space. He immediately turned his body to face forward, staring down at Steven with a menacing glare while his index and middle finger twitched at his sides. Flickering your eyes over towards Billy, he gave you a subtle nod of encouragement before focusing his attention back on Steven. 

Sucking in a sharp inhale, you fixated your gaze back on Steven and aimed the gun at him again with more confidence this time. It felt foreign holding a gun for the first time, and it was heavier than you expected, but the weight of the weapon in your hand was nothing compared to the weight of knowing all the hell you had endured the past several months were because of the man on his knees in front of you.

“I wanna hear you admit it.”

Steven’s eyes desperately flickered between the three of you. It was clear he wasn’t getting any sympathy from Frank or Billy, but he was still egotistical enough to think he had some kind of hold on you that he could use to his advantage. He shook his head quickly as he reached a shaky hand out towards you.

“Y/N, this is all a huge misunderstanding. Look, I asked those guys to look after you because-“

“I don’t want any bullshit, Steven. I want the truth. Cavella outed himself and Walker about being involved with the bombings. They weren’t there to look after me, they were there to kidnap me. Why? First you tried to have me killed, and then kidnapped-“

“Whoa whoa, no. That is not at all what was supposed to happen-“ 

“Then what was supposed to happen, Steven?”

“You weren’t supposed to antagonize them! The only reason you became a target is because you pissed them off! If you hadn’t been so fucking-“

Billy took a swift step forward and backhanded Steven across the face, glaring down at him with his lips set in a hard line. 

“I would watch the way you talk to someone pointin’ a fuckin’ gun at you, dipshit.”

Steven clenched his jaw with a wince as he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a frustrated exhale. 

“Fuckin’ figures you’d be behind this shit. Bombs are a cowards weapon, and that’s exactly what you fuckin’ are.”

Frank’s voice was dangerously low and absolutely dripping with unfiltered hatred. 

“I never hurt anyone. No one was ever supposed to get hurt at all. Look, Cavella and Walker had this group of vets that were already causing a lot of trouble. I…I thought I could use them to my advantage. I made them a deal that if they would do exactly as I said when I said, I’d fund them and keep them hidden and out of prison.”

“How exactly does a homegrown terrorist group advantage you?”

Steven sighed in frustration as he stared up at you, dropping his hands by his sides. The look of indignation in his eyes made your blood feel like molten lava in your veins. You had seen that look countless times when you were together. It was an expression he gave you when he felt like he was pointing out something obvious to you, or felt the need to mansplain something he thought you weren’t intelligent enough to figure out on your own.

“It would’ve helped me win the election.”

Complete disbelief was shot throughout your entire nervous system like a shockwave as you blanched at him with a curt, humorless laugh. 

“You’re fucking joking. You murdered people-“

“No. I didn’t do that. Cavella and Walker were just supposed to blow up a few buildings and make a few stupid threats that I could use as a talking point for my campaign. They were gonna threaten me publically, and that was gonna gain me sympathy points in the polls. They already had a few guys lined up to take the fall for everything, and it was all gonna go down the week before the election. Can you imagine the votes I’d get for taking down a terrorist group? I’d win by a fucking landslide.”

“You are un-fucking-believable.”

“Look, I’ll admit, they got out of hand, alright? I told you, no one was supposed to get hurt at all. Politics is messy. Sometimes you do things you’re not proud of-“

“You’re really trying to excuse what you did-“

“I made a mistake, Y/N. I was trying to fix it-“

“How does kidnapping me fix it?”

Steven dragged his palms down his face in complete exasperation as he shook his head with a dry laugh. 

“I knew a journalist was attacking them in the media but I didn’t realize it was you. I tried to tell Cavella and Walker you were off limits, but they didn’t wanna hear it. I mean, you taunted them relentlessly in the media. So, I agreed to let them kidnap you, but they weren’t actually gonna hurt you. I told them if they did, I’d pull their funding and expose them. They were just supposed to scare you into shutting up-”

Before you had a chance to react, Frank surged forward and struck his fist across Steven’s face hard, sending him flying two feet away from where he was sitting on his knees. When Frank moved to advance towards Steven to unleash more of his rage, Billy thrust his arm across Frank’s chest to halt his movements. 

“Let her finish.”

Your eyes widened at the force Frank had knocked Steven back with. You watched as Steven curled up onto his side, his hand hovering over the fresh gash Frank’s knuckles had torn into his cheek, and you grimaced slightly at the pool of blood leaking past his lips. Steven let out a frustrated yell of pain while clutching at his face.

“Fuck! God…none of this even fucking matters anymore, alright? We have a bigger problem. Someone else knew about Cavella and Walker showing up to Y/N’s place and killed them, and I would think she would be more concerned that they’re still out there somewhere-”

“I did.”

Steven paused his furious rant to look up at Frank, his bloodied face twisted up in absolute confusion. 

“What?”

Frank took a bold step forward, his eyes wild with restrained fury, and his top lip curled up slightly in a menacing snarl as he grit his words out at Steven.

“I killed ‘em.”

Steven blinked a few times in pure dumbfoundment. The puzzlement swimming in his eyes seemed to swirl like a hurricane into a pool of fear before settling into a tide of anger. As he glared between Frank and Billy, he pointed an accusatory bloody finger towards Frank.

“You…you ruined everything! I staged my car being blown up so Homeland would pull you away from her. If you had fucking done as you were told this would’ve all been over in two weeks! You weren’t supposed to be there-”

“Well that’s your fuckin’ stupid ass mistake thinkin’ I would ever leave her alone.”  

Frank was beyond seething at this point, and the boom of his voice echoed in Billy’s office like a loud clap of thunder. But it wasn’t the volume of his words that made you shiver; it was the truth you heard in them. 

Something about Steven’s argument piqued your curiosity, and you stared down at him with narrowed eyes.

“Wouldn’t exposing them also expose you?”

Steven scoffed at your question like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

“No, I’m not stupid. I paid them in cash. We only exchanged information verbally, or through a burner phone, so there was nothing tying me to them. If they even tried, I would’ve buried them in charges.“

Your brows furrowed slightly at his implication, letting out a dry laugh as you watched him spit out blood. 

“You mean you would’ve falsified files to get them locked away to hide your own dirty secrets?”

“I’ve been doing it my entire career. You really think I haven’t lost a case because I’m that good? Come on, no lawyer has that string of luck.”

Every dark revelation coming from Steven’s mouth only made your blood blaze even hotter. You momentarily dropped the gun by your side, taking a few steps over towards Steven with a look of absolute fury in your eyes while you smiled humorlessly. 

“I can’t tell you how much I’m going to fucking enjoy watching you burn for this. Guess I’ll be writing about you after all.”

Steve let out a deep laugh, showcasing his bloodstained teeth in a cocky smile as he looked up at you. 

“Princess, have you forgotten who I am? Who my father is? None of this is coming back to me. I told you, I have no direct ties to those overzealous psychos. That little recording you have only proves I sent two officers to watch out for my ex-girlfriend that was in danger. There’s no proof I knew they were involved. And even with your two little witnesses here, it’s all circumstantial evidence. No one is gonna believe you. You have nothing.”

“I’d say we have a confession.”

Steven rolled his eyes as he turned his head to look up at Billy, that nauseating smirk plastered over his lips. 

“Not exactly how a confession works, pretty boy. This would all be hearsay, if it even made it to court.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows, his deep obsidian eyes narrowing slightly with a sparkle of mischief shining in them as his lips stretched into a wolfish grin. He suddenly held up his phone that displayed a recording that was still currently going. 

“Is it?”

Steven’s smirk instantly disappeared realizing that Billy had been silently capturing the entire conversation. Showcasing a victorious smirk of his own, Billy pressed the button to stop the recording and slipped his phone into his pocket. 

Frank’s face was still contorted in barely contained rage while glaring down at Steven as he barked a command. 

“Names. Now.”

Steven swallowed thickly looking up at Frank, glancing between him and Billy in a newfound alarm.

“Okay…look…I’ll give you everything. If…if we can work something out-“

Frank stalked over towards Steven and grabbed him by his neck, lifting him up like a rag doll and shoving him against the wall so hard, it indented the wall in Billy’s office. 

“We ain’t workin’ nothin’ out ‘cept whether you leave this goddamn office breathin’ or not, you got that? Now you can gimme those fuckin’ names, or I’ll tear ‘em outta you.”

Steven gripped onto Frank’s arms with both hands tightly, coughing from the restricted airflow, his ridiculous shoes thrashing against the wall from where Frank had him suspended above the floor.

“Cavella…was in…charge. Walker…was his…partner…I-addresses. I have… addresses…phone numbers…left pocket-“

Frank reached into Steven’s pocket with his free hand, pulling the burner phone out to toss in Billy’s direction. Billy quickly caught it and opened it, and after a few moments of searching through it, snapped it shut with a nod.

“Got it.”

Frank let go of Steven's neck, letting him collapse onto the floor in front of his boots, the corner of his mouth curling up into a snarl as Steven was sent into a coughing fit trying to catch his breath. 

“Pull the trigger, darlin’.”

All three of your heads snapped in Billy’s direction, but he was only looking at you. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, glancing between Steven’s horrified eyes and Billy’s calm ones. 

“What? We…we have his confession-“

Billy crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned against his desk, nodding in your direction. 

“We got a confession, but he could say it was coerced, and we got nothin’ else to pin to him. There’s a very real chance daddy could save the day on this one. You wanna risk that?”

A crease of confusion furrowed between your brows, and Billy’s features took on a more serious expression.

“We’ll back you. It would be cut and dry self defense.” 

A look of astonishment blanketed your face when you realized what Billy was offering.

He wanted you to kill Steven.

Your eyes immediately went wide, and you looked over at Frank, hoping to see the same shock that was shining in your own eyes, but you didn’t find that.

Frank was staring at you in that same clash of hesitation and wrath, but you couldn’t detect a single ounce of disagreement with Billy’s offer. A sudden chill nipped at the back of your neck, and you slowly started to shake your head. Frank took a cautious step towards you, reaching out for your hand still holding onto the gun.

“You ain’t gotta do it. Lemme have it.”

“Frank-“

“Give it to me, and go wait in the truck.”

Your brows knit together in perplexity and disappointment as you stared between him and Billy, shaking your head adamantly.

“No.”

“Sweetheart-“

“No! He needs to pay for what he’s done. He and the others need to rot in prison. They need to spend the rest of their miserable lives in a tiny cell, knowing they’ll never get out. That’s what they deserve. They don’t just get to die and get it over with. They’re not getting away with it-“

“No one said they were, darlin’. Give Frank the gun.”

“He’s going to prison.”

Billy stared at you for a moment with an unreadable expression. Letting out an exhale through his nose, he nodded his head slightly in acceptance and straightened out his tie.

“If that’s what you want.”

Clutching onto the handle of the gun tightly, you glanced between Billy and Frank, noticing the polar difference in their expressions. Billy seemed calm and collected while Frank looked like he was seconds away from unleashing his wrath on Steven. Despite the power the two of them held, the decision was yours.

“Call Homeland.”

»»———　　———««

Watching Steven getting hauled away in handcuffs should’ve filled you with a sense of relief, but as you sat in the large conference room alone and watched Homeland agents scramble around the building through the floor to ceiling glass walls, there was a feeling of unease twisting your stomach into anxious knots. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when a woman with shoulder length chocolate curls and espresso tinted eyes pushed open the door to the conference room. Her gaze was somewhat intense, and captivating, but there was a tight smile on her lips when she approached you and held out her hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N, I’m agent Dinah Madani with Homeland Security. I’ve been working on your case.”

Reaching your hand out to take hers, you noticed she had a firm grasp. When you made the connection with her words in your head, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“You’re Frank’s friend.”

Dinah lifted one of her perfectly arched dark brows in playful curiosity as a more candid and genuine soft smile graced her lips. 

“Friend is a…strong word. But for all intents and purposes, sure.”

She gave you a knowing look, and you simply nodded in silent understanding as the tiny smile pulling at the edge of your mouth reached the center of your lips. Dinah took a seat beside you and leaned back in the chair slightly, letting out a deep exhale as her gaze flickered between the agents currently interviewing Billy and Frank before landing back on you with a softer expression.

“You know…what you did, it was brave. Incredibly reckless, to taunt two psychopaths with loaded guns and a hobby of blowing shit up, but brave. And extremely clever.”

That lingering sensation of dread crept up your spine again, causing you to shudder. The weight of the past few months, and the last seventy-two hours especially, bubbled in your stomach like bile threatening to erupt. There was a question that had been echoing in your head for the past forty-five minutes, one you were afraid to know the answer to.

“Is it enough?”

Dinah tilted her head to the side slightly as she stared over at you, her dark brows twinged with confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“The recordings…his confession…is it enough?”

Hearing the worriment that trembled in your voice, Dinah’s features softened as the blurriness of your apprehension finally became clear, and she understood exactly what you were asking. She reached a hand over to firmly place on top of yours and leaned in so that she was staring directly into your eyes while she spoke in a strong and confident tone.

“I will personally make sure this son of a bitch goes down, and goes down hard. I don’t care if his father is richer than God, Steven Price is going to pay for what he did. They all will. I promise.”

There was a quiet ferocity to Dinah, and you got the impression that she was a woman with zero tolerance for bullshit, but despite her intensity, she made you feel relaxed. It almost reminded you of your early interactions with Frank. 

“Thank you.”

The blazing passion in her eyes cooled off the tiniest bit when you said that, and you got the feeling those were two words she didn’t hear often. Before Dinah could respond, the door to the conference room creaked open, and that fire was burning brightly in her eyes once again as she stared down the intruder. You thought she might have been glaring at Frank for some reason, but when you looked over your shoulder, you were surprised to see it was Billy.

He stood on the opposite side of the table with his hands in his pockets, looking at Dinah with a faint smirk on his lips that almost looked arrogant, and a rogue twinkle in his eyes.

“Madani.”

Dinah sat up straighter in her seat as she stared intently over at Billy, not even bothering to plaster a cordial smile on her lips.

“Russo.”

There was a tension lingering between the two of them like a dense and heavy fog, and your eyes darted between them in total curiosity. Billy cleared his throat and squared his shoulders as he gestured towards you with his chin.

“Mind if I have a word with her alone?”

Instead of answering him, Madani turned her attention towards you, raising one of her brows in silent questioning. After giving her a subtle nod, she looked over at Billy warily out of the corner of her eye and let out a heavy exhale through her nose, giving you a nod of her own and rising from her seat. 

“I’ll be outside.”

As she made her way over towards the conference door to leave, her and Billy’s eyes were locked on one another in an almost strained staring contest. But while Billy’s eyes reflected amusement, Madani stared at Billy in a look that resembled…suspicion. Once it was just you and Billy in the room, you looked over at him in complete puzzlement with an arched brow.

“What did you do to piss off Homeland Security?”

Billy let out a dark chuckle as he rounded the long, deep mahogany conference table, unbuttoning his suit jacket to take a seat next to you.

“We uh…used to date.”

For some reason, that confession caught you off guard. It was hard to picture someone like Billy with someone like Madani. Granted, she was just as attractive as he was, but their personalities seemed so…different. Glancing down at your hands, you let out a dry and humorless short laugh.

“I guess you really fucked up.”

Billy’s sharp features contorted into a look of faux offense, but the grin on his lips gave away his true feelings.

“What makes you so sure it was my fault?”

Turning your head slightly to give him a pointed look, he let out a deep chuckle and nodded as he leaned back in the chair and glanced around the empty conference room.

“Fair enough.”

Staring down at your hand that you had punched Steven with, you noticed that your knuckles had begun to swell, and the skin was changing into the early shades of a bruise. So much adrenaline had been coursing through your body, you hadn’t felt any pain at all until now. You could barely tighten your fingers into a weak fist without feeling a sharp tenderness, and there was dried blood around the stitches in your palm from clutching the gun so tightly.

A gun that Billy had wanted you to pull the trigger on.

“I wasn’t going to shoot him.”

“I know. You couldn’t have even if you wanted to.”

Shifting your gaze to look over at Billy in total confusion, there was a small smile on his lips as he looked back at you. He slowly crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side while gazing softly at you.

“The safety was on.”

All of a sudden, everything clicked.

That’s why Frank let go of the gun.

He had seen that the safety was on and knew you couldn’t do any damage. A surprised scoff left your lips as you shook your head slowly while all these new pieces fit into the puzzle. But as you ran your fingers through your hair with your uninjured hand, there was one question that was still missing an answer. You turned your head to stare at Billy inquisitively.

“Then why did you say-”

Billy shook his head and leaned over in his seat closer towards you, resting his elbows on his thighs.

“I was just tryin’ to scare him. He spent months terrorizin’ you, I thought it was only fair we scare the shit outta him too. I’m sorry if I took it too far, darlin’. But, I knew you wouldn’t do it, even if the safety wasn’t on.”

The way he said that with such conviction struck something within you, and you sat up a little straighter as you furrowed your brows slightly.

“What makes you say that?”

Billy instantly picked up on the challenging tone lacing your question, and he let out a light chuckle while looking at you with one of his dark brows arched. 

“Besides the fact you don’t know how to use a gun?”

He took a moment to let his teasing words linger in the space between you, letting out an amused snort at the way you pursed your lips and lifted your brows defiantly. 

“Cause that ain’t you, darlin’. Besides, Frank wouldn’t let you do somethin’ like that. He woulda done it himself to keep your conscience clear.”

As if on cue, Frank pushed through the door of the conference room with an ice pack in one hand and a first aid kit in the other. He glanced between you and Billy, his dark brows slightly knit together before his gaze landed on you, and he gestured loosely with the ice pack.

“Thought you might need this for that right hook, Rocky.”

Billy threw his head back and let out a hearty laugh while you struggled to fight the grin that threatened to take over your lips as you glanced down at your slightly swollen hand. Billy stood up from the chair and buttoned his suit jacket, lightly squeezing your shoulder.

“That was impressive. Remind me to never piss you off.”

While Billy left the conference room to speak to some of the guys that worked for him, Frank took his previous spot in the chair next to you and set the ice pack and first aid kit on the table.

“Lemme see.”

Letting out a soft sigh, you slowly placed your hand into his larger one and winced as he gingerly brushed his thumb over your bruised knuckles.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Are we lookin’ at the same thing?”

There was a faint teasing tone to his words, and as you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes, you realized it was because he had repeated your own back to you. You were suddenly brought back to the night at the bar when you had been in this exact same scenario with Frank, only now the roles were reversed. Now he was the one patching up your hand.

A smile bloomed across your lips like the first delicate bud in spring knowing that he remembered that. Frank always remembered the little things.

“Alright, fine. It’s bad.”

Frank turned your hand over carefully, swabbing at the dried blood around your stitches with an alcohol wipe which caused you to hiss from the sting, and elicited a quiet apology from him. To both of your surprise, you hadn’t ripped open your stitches. Frank applied some antibiotic cream to your stitches and gently placed the ice pack over your swollen knuckles, the icy chill instantly offering a little bit of relief to the throbbing under your angry and taut skin.

But it was the way that Frank tenderly held your wrist with his other free hand as he held the ice pack to your bruised knuckles that a heated shiver tumbling down your back. 

“Be sore for a few days, but it ain’t broken.”

Frank lifted his head to look at you, his eyes faintly narrowed as he cocked his head to the side and studied you curiously.

“I thought you said you ain’t ever hit anyone before?”

A look of sheer puzzlement blanketed your own features while looking back at Frank, unsure of the implications behind his question.

“I haven’t.”

Frank’s thick brows lifted up his forehead a few centimeters in surprise as his deep brown eyes wandered over you, a soft chuckle leaving him as he shook his head slowly and looked back down at your hand.

“Coulda fooled me. Hell of a fuckin’ hit for your first try.”

His voice was dripping with pride, and that coupled with the tiny grin on his lips filled you with a giddiness that made the pain in your hand almost disappear. 

But all at once, that giddiness disappeared when a chilling revelation washed over you like a bucket of unforgiving ice water.

The Defenders of Freedom had been caught. Steven was going to stand trial, and eventually be sent to prison.

And there wasn’t a reason for Frank to be your bodyguard anymore.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

*if your tag is not working, or you changed your username, please let me know! also if you’re tagged in the comments, it’s bc I can only do 50 mentions on the actual post!

[lanawinterscigarettes]

can you maybe do something with heather chandler x nerdy male reader who she basically treats like a little pet (it's up to you to decide whether they're okay with her treatment or not)

Heather Chandler x nerdy male reader who she treats like her pet (headcanons)

Warnings/contains: slightly toxic/codependent relationship (overt possessiveness, unhealthy attachments, blatant ownership, etc.), swearing, brief mentions of bullying and assault (it's implied rather than said outright), nothing sexual is mentioned here but there's definitely a dominant/submissive dynamic going on between Heather and the reader

Beginning notes: yesss see this is the kind of content we need to see more of, popular hot (and kind of scary) women with their shy and anxious male lapdogs

When Heather laid eyes on you for the first time, the number one thing that struck her was how cute you were, in a "aw, look at how adorable that puppy is" kind of way. Her immediate thought after that was how she could manipulate you into being hers and use that to her advantage later on

It wasn't very hard for her to get to you, in all honesty. Everyone knew what a massive two-faced bitch she was, but they also figured it was better to get on her good side than face her wrath by rebuffing her fake niceties, so when she willingly chose you of all people to be her partner for a school project she had to work on you kind of just went with it

The way she spoke to you was... nice, if not condescending. Always asking if you could fetch her things, if you'd do her favors, etc. Not that you resisted very much (if at all), as you seemed eager to please and happy to help

She also basically ruled over Westerburg High with an iron fist, squashing anyone who dared to cross her like a bug on a windshield, which meant as long as you were in her favor she'd protect you from the asshole jocks who liked to toss around nerds like you for football practice (cough, Kurt and Ram, cough)

Unlike Heathers Duke or McNamara, you didn't follow after Heather Chandler because you were afraid of her but rather because you enjoyed the attention. You actually liked being her little lapdog, which only made her more endeared by you, believe it or not

Other guys were so pushy, so expectant. They thought that just because Heather was giving them the time of day for once in their sorry and miserable lives that they earned something from her, but you didn't expect anything except for the occasional head pat and praise for a job well done

Veronica would scold Heather on occasion for her treatment of you, insisting "he's not your pet! You can't just treat him like one!" and meanwhile you'd be off somewhere in the distant background staring at Heather with the biggest heart eyes as you patiently waited for her to return. Your loyalty truly knew no bounds

It got to a certain point where people were so accustomed to seeing you with her that when they didn't they automatically assumed the worst, not only because Heather seemed to be in a better mood whenever you were around but also because you were typically only somewhere else if she was about to rain holy hell down on her fellow students (she didn't like losing her temper around you because she was worried you might get scared and cower in the corner like a frightened little puppy, so you were instructed to stay with the other Heathers when that happened)

That being said, she absolutely wasn't afraid to destroy someone's reputation in the slightest if they so much as looked at you wrong. You were her pet, after all, almost like her baby in a way, and she'd be damned if she was going to let someone hurt you and get away with it

Because of her naturally possessive nature, the only people she allowed you to be around were the other Heathers, and even then that was only if she was either there with you or if she had to take care of something like I mentioned earlier on

(Hanging out with Veronica was absolutely off limits, by the way. Occasionally you could say "hi" if Heather was with you, but you weren't allowed to be alone with her because she was too worried that Veronica might try to steal you from her or something. Neither Duke nor McNamara were brave enough or smart enough for that, so she wasn't too worried about them)

Her more gentle and caring side would only come out when the two of you were alone, usually either after school or on the weekends. She'd let you play with her hair while you laid cuddled up with her in the large canopy bed she owned or she'd picked out her outfit for the next day while you worked on your homework at her desk

Your relationship with each other might've been odd, but it worked. Heather finally had someone who adored her despite being a massive bitch, and you had someone who looked out for you even though you were a total nerd. Nobody expected you two to end up together, but somehow you were perfect for one another, and that was the best anyone could ever hope for

End notes: rip Heather Chandler my bitchy and problematic queen you would've loved being a mean femdom to subby and pathetic men 😔

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[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Silly little headcannon:

Demons / sinners can't have salt because it's one of those pure substances that could dispel them.

It's also a punishment for sinners who enjoyed basic flavour in their meals. Other spices can be obtained in some form, more or less, often smuggled across rings from wrath or gluttony where the main farms can be found.

A few people hankering for Spice get The Real Thing - smuggled by the hellborn who went to earth. It was a very expensive desire to cultivate.

And there was always one idiot who thought that the salt thing was just superstition and asked for it. At this point the hellborn no longer argue, just make a vague your funeral statement, and give the item over.

Can it kill them? If you chug the bottle, sure.

Is it similar to drinking bleach? Yeah. Parts start to melt like they're trapped in an acid rainstorm starting from the inside out.

Sometimes it can warp how they reform. And it's a bitch and a half if you get it on your skin... burns like acid and won't stop til you get it all off.

So imagine if you will, that there's a hell alternative, sourced from the oceans of envy in Leviathan's realm. Supposedly off limits and out of reach to sinners because, well, fuck em that's why.

They're meant to be punished and Lucifer was pretty pissed with the whole cohort so he banned their access centuries back. Only Zestial recalls being able to cook with flavour...

Rumours say he ddid it in response to Lillith's rebellion and the inners that inspired it. Others believe, like the foolish romantic things they are, that Lucifer's life became bland without his Queen and wanted the rest of the Sinners to understand his pain, to know what they cost him.

All utter twaddle, really.

No one ever considers that perhaps it's just Like That here. After all... there's a lot of similar things in hell to their earth counterparts -like chimkin and pyork; hellborn dont know any different but sinners do.

That's the cruelty, that they can have something Like but not close enough. And without salt... a lot of those recipes you would eventually cave and try to make, just for a moecule of serotonin in the pits of literal despair... would be off.

Unless you pay for deliveries from another rings' business and the import taxes could bankrupt someone unwary, that is. Despair was a hell of a currency... and didn't the Vees and the other financially minded overlords know it. Not to mention more industrious hellborne.

Or, unless you had Connections.

One of the little thrills of being at the Hazbin Hotel was Charlotte unknowingly gifting the sinners (staff and guests alike) all access to Envy salt. She didn't see the big deal, and was caught off guard when Angel said that having the condiment available for every meal, was better than any rimjob he'd had in the last four decades.

Vaggie had hurled a plate like a discus at the man, aiming to remove his revolting mouth at the neck, but he'd caught it in a spare arm. Grinning at her.

"Admit it toots, you missed it too. Though I'm not sure how cause, seriously, ya whole attitude is salty." Dissolving into dorky laughter as her anger wavered into begrudging amusement.

"Oh shut up. But uh, we still got salt in Heaven, and there's always been some in the hotel... so I never really got a chance to miss it. "

Charlie interjects, confused in the way she had of being sincerely curious and obliviously privileged. "What do you mean? Aunties Levi and Levy sell it cheap to the other rings. Why wouldn't you have salt?"

Sensing a chance to educate and be a bit of a bastard about the king, Alastor interjects. "Why, my dear, haven't you heard your father decreed that Leviathan salt is banned to sinners? Its a silly little punishment designed to distress, because without it a number of meals that remind one of home just miss the mark. Insidious... i would almost be impressed if it was employed by anyone else."

Charlie deflates.

"Chin up, at least there's some here to bring something to the table. Unfortunately the spices are running a tad low so Husker will have to go and see if there's any of our dear hellborn contacts available to pop up to earth for a shopping spree "

"Wait, I can get dad to make us some?"

"And let him poison us? No thank you dear. You would absolutely survive anything he hides in the spice, he would make certain, but you know quite well sinners mean nothing to him."

"Thaaaaaaat's not... entirely true. He wouldn't kill you or make you sick deliberately, I dont think."

"He is the devil my dear Charlotte, and you know he will do anything to keep you safe from whatever he perceives as harm. Including even such innocuous creatures as dear Niffty."

Said sinner was being stopped from eating her plate by Angel and Husk. They were offering nonceramic options to limited success.

"Smiles, little help here?"

"Niffty, do drop that and I shall let you have the liver of the next sinner I hunt. You may adorn it with your beloved ketchup all you wish and I shan't even point out how it ruins the flavour, even once!"

Her pupil expands ominously. She squeals and drops the plate.

"Delightful. Now if you'll excuse me, Im afraid Carmilla wants a meeting with us about ensuring all the weaponry was returned. Vagatha, do you wish to come see your mentor?"

"Not my name..." she grumbles, following after with less hostility than she might have shown previously.

....

Charlie is left to wonder after why her father would make it so hard to cook non-bland foods.

He, after arriving to the dining area with great flair, explains that why not? It's meant to be a punishment. The memory of never quite tasting things the same as they were remembered and the despair of trying anyway was a punishment sinners enforced on themselves.

Charlie snaps that it wasn't okay, and that even little kindnesses like a positive memory of life reinforced through a good meal, could be instrumental for changing a sinner for the better.

Lucifer points out that no amount of paprika sprinkled on a sinner corpse was going to redeem her pet overlord or his friend Rhododendron.

Charlie pushes back saying it just might. How would he know? Had he tried before?

Her father pauses, considering, and she really should have paid attention to that odd expression as he asks if Al put her up to asking.

Charlie rolls her eyes. No, but he did do most of the cooking and he'd mentioned that the spices were low.

Ugh, the fucker was cooking for them? Are they sure it was really pyork and not sinner? Lucifer's disgust was obvious. Of course he'd eaten sinner before, eternity was a long time and you wanted to try new things on occasion. But it wasn't a, you know, hankering. A Need.

Charlie countered easily, if with a thread of frustration in the tone. Yes dad, they were very sure. Al cooked lots of stuff, not just sinner... and hey, even Lucifer had enjoyed some of the meals.

The king had to begrudgingly give him that. He cracks his knuckles, having an awful funny little idea. "Well, if that's the case and you trust him, I suppose theres no choice but to wa-bam! Spices restocked and a few new ones added! Straight from Earth to our pantry... let's see what the snarky fucker thinks about that."

Charlie beams at ber dad, hopeful that someday the pair might be friends... but understanding that it would be a matter of one small concession at a time.

....

Later, after the intrepid duo of Alastor and Vaggie returned from Carmilla's fortress of a territory, having been thoroughly negotiated with for future use of the steel... and royal favour if possible, the pair seem to head tiredly for the main sitting area.

Charlie greets them at the door like a labrador bursting with love for an owner that left an hour ago and they just weren't sure the person was ever coming back. Out of the kindness of her heart, Charlie offers to cook; and the overlord finds he suddenly has a burst of new energy, because no. Not again.

Niffty had just gotten the last attempt off the high vaulted ceilings.

Angel, lounging about on a rare day off, offered to help make something. He was struggling to find non drug and alcohol related activities now he had free time. And you could only play with yourself so many times in a day when it was what you did for work yknow?

Cherri was blowing up his phone with party deets, begging him to come over and play... and he was being so brave about it.

The sound of music filled the kitchen, helping a little. Filling in the gaps in his brain where the Wants crept in with sound. His twitchy hands put to use grabbing out equipment and ingredients as Al instructed.

Cooking was easy enough and soothing for the spider sinner. He cant recall what they were making, just followed instructions to peel and dice and cut as Al did his showmans patter over the music. Some truly insane stories from decades back in Hell and something about a sinner who sounded like Vox absolutely going face first into the pavement. The deer was a riot when he got going, and wasn't aiming his anger at you.

It felt... warm.

Well, hell always was, but this... cooking with someone always reminded Angel of his life before. Cooking was a whole experience if the family was together and had time. That's just how the bonded... well, 'cept dad and arackniss. Idiots got it into their head not to joint he family in the kitchen... as if every other guy in the other Families wasn't proudly cooking upa storm. They should've been embarrassed to miss out!

He notes the now overflowing spice rack and points it out to Al. Angel can't help the small grin as he sees those floofy red ears flick back in obvious agitated indignation, before they are forcefully corrected by the overlord.

Big bad fluffy ass adorable overlord. Betcha Al still thought the rest of the hotel didn't know about his tail... eh, let him keep his fragile sense of dignity. Angel'd trade his four best vibrators for a pat, though. Needed to know if it was anywhere near as soft as it looked.

That he knew was a secret, the kind you didn't snitch about to nobody. Al still didn't seem to realise it was Angel and Husk who'd found him a bloody mess after the new place opened, when that fake smile finally thinned and he'd passed out near his room. Lucky for the stubborn deer that they'd been keeping an eye 'cause Husk (the grumpy softie) felt something was wrong and followed him at a distance. Spooky Jnr (the shadow) had actually been hovering anxiously the whole time and practically came to get the not-so-subtle stalkers when Al had collapsed. They'd dagged the overlord into the new radio tower, yanked off the sodden layers, and given the idiot some actual first aid.

Husk had looked conflicted for a moment, just a fraction of a second there, and Angel kept thinking about if he'd have had the strength to gently clean, stitch and bandage his own overlord if the chance to let them die came up. He wants to think he'd show that same compassion... but Al wasn't Valentino, and thank fuck for that, so Angel knows he'd find a way to smother the moth bastard if he was ever that lucky.

Still, he now knew about the tail. Husk'd played it off like he'd been the only person to help when the near-delirious and panicked deer snapped awake the next morning in his new bed, all trussed up. But he's sure something of the night must have stayed in that red head, because sometimes Al looked at him from the corner of his eyes. Testing him, maybe seeing if Angel wanted something from him, or was going to use it against him.

Sure, the sinner was a bit of a muck up, and he'd killed for fun, but like... no one important. Not friends, not family, not... whatever these weirdoes in the hotel had come to be to him. But he couldn't breach the gap to tell Al he was safe with Angel, because that'd be saying th quiet bit out loud... and he's not sure he'd get the same answer back.

But... he'd noticed he was able to just exist 'round Al, even with his dirty jokes, more often now. There was a slight ease of tension. Same as the one he had with Vaggie, really... you didn't say anything out loud, but you both knew there was an easiness there. A safety.

She hadn't even thrown that plate hard enough to decapitate earluer, and if that didn't say sisterly love, what could it stand for?

The sound of staticky uh, french-like words spluttering over the music in little hissing bursts catches Angel's attention. He snaps back into the moment.

Alastor looked furious and indignant about the whole cosmic flex of Lucifer's restocking. Of course the little king had interfered. It wasn't done kindly, it was another reminder that he could do anything he wanted and it was so Easy... with one thought he invalidated another way that Alastor was helpful to the hotel. His spy networks, the deals he had with smugglers... no longer necessary.

All so his majesty could try and show his daughter how useless even the most powerful sinners were in relation to the Morningstar family. Missing her point entirely... again.

Just because one Could doesn't mean one Should or even Must.

Angel, as one who had been around Hell for a while and could see what was yanking Al's chain about this mess, points out that it actually didn't curry favour with Charlie. Not like Short King intended after all.

Heck, he even points out it aint that bad if you reaaaaally thought about it... cause hey, saved money and time in the end, right?

Seeing a need to distract, he fluffed up his chest fur, draped himself over the countertop and cooed. Alastor's ears went right up in alert, and Angel would've bet Fat Nuggets that that floofy tail was doing the same in some ancient panic instinct.

Putting it on thick, to dispel the tension, Angel grins lazily at Al. Pointing out that, hey... maybe you could get them sexy smugglers to bring the starlet back some of those new Toys he'd heard about, cause word on the street was that there was this new kinda Stroker that-...

Al looked like he was about to have a stroke... but the ears settled. This was familiar nonsense.

Angel laughed, not unkindly, and stretched upright again. Messing with Al and Vags was sort of fun, like a hobby you dusted off when things got a bit Meh. It was also fun to get the Radio Demon on the ropes, given how much the guy liked to shitstir all on his own.

Alastor, for his part, then caught Angel completely off guard by asking if all 6 of his arms were broken - because why would he need something like that otherwise? The scrunched expression actually showed the overlord was trying to rationalise the request. Fuck, that was hilarious...

The whole bizarre nature of the conversation actually made Angel tear up in disbelieving mirth, holding his sides.

"How the fuck do you know what that is?" He'd wheezed, trying to imagine Al flicking casually through one of the Lust catalogues like he would a newspaper on Sunday. The mental image blurred and warped like Al on a camera screen, it was too hard to picture.

"We're from the same time period my good man, and Hell's advertising campaigns are as persistent as they are pervasive." Al points out the kitchen window at a number of visible billboards that displayed products one would not anticipate being so openly advertised anywhere else.

Nothing subtle about the new DragonDrillDo XXXL-treme from VoxTek! The billboard ran the breadth of three adjacent buildings and the product looked like it could probably could kill a Sin if used incorrectly.

"Oh. Well, a stroker is like... you know how sometimes you just have had a long day, and you don't wanna have to do everything yourself, right? Gotta get that dopamine flowing somehow, and store bought is fine in this house. No shade." He flutters his eyelashes and watches the deer sigh in silent resignation that he would weather whatever came out of Angel's mouth right now.

"Why don't we get one for the table, you know... to share if you like, and I'll help ya try it out..." the eyebrow waggle was excessive, but it sure was fun.

He hadn't anticipated the slice of tomato that slaps him dead on the forehead. Laughing harder as it slips down his face slowly, as if in on the bit.

"One could point out the merits of putting in a hard day's work, and using a little elbow grease as it were. The things you do by hand provide greater satisfaction, over the artificial...or so I have always come to understand." Al deadpans back, grinning at the suddenly shocked expression on Angel's face. "Come now, little spider, you don't truly believe that I'm blind to that side of life, hmm?"

"Smiles, watch what you say... with the visuals my brain is producing, asking me to come anywhere might just be a dangerous game." Angel quips back, putting certain mental images aside for later perusal. The guy was hot in the weird scary way of the overlords... so sue him.

He, predictably, gets another tomato slice to the face. Charlie was gonna scold them for wasting food in a hot minute. Ah well, Angel's just grateful it wasn't the capsicum, that coulda stung for days, had the overlord had them to hand.

Still, the fact he wasn't being mauled by poppets means that he musta wormed his way into Al's Good Graces. Same as husk and Niff and Charlie... and maybe Vags, he's not sure where those two fall now. Less attempted stabbing with that little angelic toothpick, at least... so maybe they're doing okay too.

"If you are quite done being ridiculous," Alastor makes quite the show of rolling his eyes and blasting an audience groaning at him. "Do be a, hah, a deer, and grab out the following..."

Angel may have four hands on heh, hand, most of the time but the list of spices was getting excessive at this point. They can't all go in the same dish, right? It'd be too much for one tongue to process and just come out feeling like you licked a powerpoint or something.

Angel's smart mouth moves as if to say something of the sort to the guy who could technically turn him inside out and not in the fun way, but won't 'cause they're not-buddies now... when something shifts. It's almost like the little glass thing wiggles out of the way of his grasping fingers and then hurls itself downward.

The cap unscrews itself as it falls, in a way that seemed too easy for something new, something allegedly just off the shelf of some earth store or whatever. His eight eyes flare wide with realisation at the What, but there's nothing he can do, no way to react fast enough to move as the contents begin to spray outward. A torrent that shouldn't be possible.

Angel feels someone grab one of his lower shoulders and yank him back, with a speed and ferocity that should have tossed him across the room, but even with that action he can sense it's far too late.

Scalding pain sears up his right upper arm and shoulder, fragmenting across face, neck and a splotch on her lower right arm. It's blinding. He's been hurt real fucking bad before, and each time felt different... this... this was like flashes of lighning behind the eyes.

Fuck, he hadn't felt anything like this since they stopped doing electronecro shoots. Fucking hated the few moths Val'd been into that... or maybe it eas Travis. Both needed to choke to death for that mess, if the world was fair, that is.

Angel can't comprehend anything but the twanging of nerves as his trajectory and the full force of his lanky telephone pole of a body is yanked straight into a writhing mass of darkness. The inky mass of shadows hissing frantically as granules continue to spill down, shielding as best they can despite ther own discomfort.

Dimly, Angel wonders if they feel pain... if Al can feel their pain, or what they touch. It's a weird thought...

Heh, best not share that with Val or he'd find a way to fuck that shadow, and Al'd burn down the whole of Pride. Oh, hang on, loopy thoughts, nope, can't do shock. that's bullshit. Get it together Angel.

The shadows brush over his limbs, dislodging what they could of the corrosive substance, trying to help where they could. Despite the obvious discomfort it caused everyone involved.

Angel is half braced on a nearby bench, trembling, because fuck that hurts, One of his arms is being gripped to near bruising strength, and the other is grasping Alastor's should right back.

Despite attempts to stifle it, Angel could feel his mouth part in a harsh, agonised cry as several of the utensils and bowls they were using crashed to the floor at the sudden displacement of bodies.

The container clanged to the floor innocently, rolling away and spewing out more than a dozen jars that size should have been able to produce. Perhaps an enchantment? Wouldn't be the first bottomless thing conjured; saved on shopping bills if things just refilled when empty or expired.

His shout must have alerted others because Vaggie was suddenly there, spear brandished wildly, as Husk stormed in behind her. The pair look ready to skewer Alastor if he was secretly attempting to murder and cook Angel.

To be fair... that was certainly one assumption. Angel could suggest a few other reasons for callig out that might get him actually, honest-to-satan, turned into shish kabobs by Al. He lets out a shaky laugh as his thoughts go a bit silly again.

He just holds off on slapping himself across the face, trying to stay calm. He'd had worse, much, much, MUCH worse... and this was what set off the hysterics? Fuck off with that!

Although, based on the way Husk's stern expression blanched just as sharply as Vaggie's, perhaps he wasn't being a big old baby about this. Maybe it really was Bad.

"Shit." Vaggie hisses, eye wide, and spear donking onto the floor. "What the fuck happened in here?"

Angel pushes himself upright as the shadows recede, breathing deliberately. That cute little in-out thing Charlie did in yoga the other day, something about breathing into boxes wasn't it? He wants to make a dumb box-based joke, but the energy is going into not-screaming as he moves his torso.

Angel can feel himself calming slightly, against the residual stinging pain in his cheek. Fuck, must've gotten some there. It's about a 5 out of 10, compared to the rest... until he tries to smile and reassure the others. Then it hits a full-on 7.5.

His eyes water, fuck, yeah he's not gone soft. That actually really goddamn hurts. It's exactly like that time Angel accidentally spilled acid on himself disposing of a rat uptop, the scars were still healing on his arm when he died. What a weird damn thing to recall.

Soemthing moved beside him, stiffer than usual but nonetheless commanding attention. "Husker, Vagatha... do NOT let Niffty in here. She'll harm herself attempting to clear the mess, and likely try to roll in it to chase the burning pain. You know her proclivities by now." The tone is that odd twist of jovial and authoratative, but the normal playful teasing lilt to it has a note of strain there.

Angel feel his world do a dark somersault as Alastor tugs him through the shadows and across the room to the entrance. Far away from the salt littering the surfaces about the cupboard, not to mention the floor. It seemed to still be trickling out of the container... what the actual fuck.

Vaggie ducked out the door and yelled for Charlie, citing urgency and that they needed medical help. Angel starts to think that perhaps that was, you know, overkill... but he's suddenly aware of how hard he's leaning on support when Husk pulls him off of Alastor and braces him with his own paws.

Those golden eyes are roving over the sinner, and Angel can't find the energy for a sexy little pout and some coquettish quip. Whiskers clearly ain't into what he sees. That expression could glower its way through steel doors if he wanted it to.

"Well, fuck... what kind of idiot puts actual, honest-to-goddamn-earth salt in the kitchen?" Husk mumbles herding Angel immediately towards the far counter, eyes assessing. "Gotta wash this off quick - you might have some clinging to your skin. Is the sink clear?"

The words ring in the air, echoing against the clashing sounds of their footsteps and the pounding of Angel's heart in his ears. It's about that point he catches up with the realisation that there's no music playing.

He glances back at the visibly seething Overlord, who was trying not to appear to be propping himself up against the nearby open door, and failing somewhat. Angel could see that the damn salt had clearly caught Al across the shoulder, upper back, neck and patches to one side of his face. One of the silly red ears was rather less fluffy, appearing quite agitated as it twitched.

Well, fuck. If Al caught a glancing blow whilst dragging Angel out of the spray, then how bad was the starlet? He felt barbecued.

Hah, technically he'd been pre-prepped and marinated in something. Maybe Al and his friend Rosie could take a nibble! Husk shook him, gently, but enough to click his brain back into the here and now. The hysteria quashed back down for the moment, he'd give his third pair of arms for that mess to stop.

"Hey, listen this is going to suck but it's necessary to get it off you. So just stay with me, alright?" Husk murmurs, wetting a teatowel and sarting to sluice the areas. He might have sworn rather viciously at the first touch of water... but by the time the second lot poured over the area, it started to feel soothing.

"Well this has been quite the little frustration. All our preparations have been tainted by something that would try to ea the stomach of those who ingested it." Alastor snarls as Vaggie approaches, slowly, as if she was trying to tempt an injured feral cat into accepting help.

His eyes snapped to her, and without the shadows, it was clear the extent of the damage. Angel hadn't realised Salt could eat through clothing until now, probably for the best he'd done such a damn good job on those stitches, the top edges of the wound are almost invisible under the regrown deer fur.

Angel can feel his own shirt just as ratty, and mourns the loss of it. He'd liked how it made his chest perk just right... and getting a shirt that could switch from four to six arms was a bitch and a half in this town. The enchantments alone cost him a lot in terms of repaying Val in weird, off the wall kink stuff the moth was into and Angel wasn't.

Briefly, Angel considered the fact he'd thought seeing Al dishevelled like this would make him look kinda hot, maybe a bit naughty. But it was kinda distressing, and freaky. Not unlike the night they found him collapsed, really. Overlords are meant to be untouchable gods compared to Sinners on the street, seeing them fucked up and hurt was... actually frightening in a weird way.

At least you could say that the mussy look made Al's perpetual grin all the more manic. You could feel that the wrong move might end in someone getting bitten. The radio dial eyes, though, suggested that perhaps Al had an idea who did this... and they were going to PAY.

It was also kind of a mess in his head now, not just his own injury. But Alastor actually interceding. He didn't have to, he'd been out of the 'splash zone' as it were... why the fuck had he risked harm by coming to get Angel?

Was this ike how sometimes Al would appear and take on Sinners targeting hotel staff? Or that time he literally took a bullet for Husk, and laughed about it, only to make the offender eat his own weapon until his teeth broke on the barrel and the fucker was a mess of snotty tears? Niffty'd turned the dislodged molars into a necklace and gifted it to Charlie... who had worn it for a full day and then put it 'somewhere safe'.

Hah, get wrecked you stubborn deer, you LIKE me! Angel suppresses his gleeful little giggle, knowing it'd hurt to let it out right now. The flicker of smug grin Husk shot him seemed to indicate he agreed. Or at least, that's what Angel was interpreting that as.

Still, guilt did churn in his guts cause, yeah, he could take a beating and all but it never felt right to have others get hurt for him. Anytime Cherri caught a blow in a fight to prevent him taking it, it weighed on him. This... this was just as messed up, but in a different way.

Alastor was shorter than Angel, not by much, but enough that it was inevitable that the salt showering on the spider was going to trickle down to those below even as they pulled him from the metaphorical line of fire.

Something down Angel's chest was burning, but at this point, he straight up wasn't ready to look down and acknowledge the full extent of this horror. Inside his chest, his heart was alternating between thundering at Husk's tender care and proximity... and aching for accidentally getting someone else hurt, for his sake.

He's just some washed up, rent-a-hole whore, why would anyone-... his fists clenched. No, no we're going to be kind to ourself. Even if it feels all woo-woo and new agey bullshit, but Charlie thinks there's worth in me. Husk looks at me like I hung the moon. Alastor put himself in harm's way to help me. They must think I'm worth something beyond my body, beyond sex.

And one day I'm gonna feel confident about that too. Not yet, but I'm gonna get there. Angel reassured himself.

"It's okay..." Husk murmurs, the mantra repeated soothingly over and over, until the tension in his arms released. "There you go... don't let the thoughts win. Hard to fight your own brain, but you can. I've won, and you will too."

Well, fuck, he can't not fantasise about riding Husk off into the sunset now can he? Not when Whiskers was being so kind, so understanding, so-... smug, actually. But following the flicking tail with his eyes helped to settle the weirder thoughts the spider was experiencing.

The calm immediately broken when the cavalry arrived.

Charlie blasts open the doors with the largest first aid kit known to sinner-kind. Three Nifftys could sleep in it with room to spare for the entire bug collection... where the fuck did the Princess get this thine?

Ah, Angel idly notes the Sloth symbol. Well, of course it was from Bellphagore, the Sin was prodigious for naptime and medical care.

"Nobody panic! I have literally everything we could ever need to manage a situation right here! How bad is it? Is anybody dead?" She rapid-fires across the room, eyes darting in all directions to assess the situation.

"It's fine, nothing that won't heal in a day or so, charlotte do calm down!" Alastor grins, doing his mildly condescending little hand wave, straightening back to his cheerful persona as if he wasn't half-charred.

Husk actually walks across the room and smacks his overlord over the back of the head with a wing. "Just cut the shit, Al, we both know that hurts like a bitch... and I'm like 85% sure being honest about that for once won't kill you. Probably. Ain't like anyone here will take advantage of you like this, they like you... lord knows someone has to."

That startles a laugh out of the deer. "Oh Husker, you are a delight..."

"More importantly," Husk interjects. Starting to tug the only mildly-resisting Alastor towards the sink as well. It's a miracle no one has been bitten yet. "How did this even happen? The only salt we got in the hotel is from Envy, normally... and you can't just accidentally get the earth stuff, right?"

Lucifer pops in in a swirling array of red-gold sparkles. "There you are sweetie, what's the hullaballoo that's got you yelling all over the hotel?"

Charlie, already pulling out more gauze and cream than anyone would need in a lifetime, gestures at Angel and Alastor. Husk returns to his task of gently wiping over Angel's angry-looking shoulder with a moistened towel; it takes effort for the spider not to flinch.

"Ooh yikes. Hmmm, looks like you got a little clumsy in the kitchen there, bambi." Lucifer grins, eyes sparkling with malicious delight. His expression doesn't waver as it takes in Angel. "And you managed to damage a guest in the process, how can you call yourself a bellhop? For shame."

The antlers creak ominously, extending upwards and pulling at the angry skin there as Alastor clearly chooses to ignore the limitations in the face of the small all-powerful asshole before him.

The process pauses, in shock, as Husk tests the bounds of Al's famously finite patience by clipping him again with a wing. Angel is going to have a heart attack if Whiskers doesn't cut that out right the fuck now. Al seems to surprised to be angry, at least.

What the porn start wasn't expecting, was to have the too-bright grin turned upon him as Alastor asked. "Angel... the device you mentioned earlier, would it come in such a width that one could cram the entirety of his Lowness into the orifice, since he wants to act like a pompous little dic-...?!"

"Whoakay, no need for that. I'm sure it was an accident..." Charlie interjects, hands up like someone trying to settle a furious horse that was ready and willing to cave someone's ribcage in.

Lucifer winked at Alastor and turned to face his daughter, "Of course it was, sweetie, I'd never hurt your guests deliberately!"

That omission caught even Charlie"s attention. "...dad? I just want to clarify... not accusing you or anything, but did you... know that you summoned earth salt when you restocked the pantry?"

"Of course not Char Char." Said the prince of lies, whose smile was violently gleeful under that insipid hat.

Charlie's expression closed off completely, pinched taut, as she saw Angel breathe his way through the gentle sluicing of water over too raw skin. Her mind was racing as rapidly as her pulse. Worst case scenarios whirling through her mind.

Would Valentino punish Angel for this? For being hurt and likely delaying filming? Probably. Fuck. She hated this.

Charlie takes a deep breath, and forces a smile onto her face. She can do this. "Dad. It starts with Sorry? Remember?"

"Of course, Char-Char! Ahem, Angle Rust, im sorry you were injured by accident." Lucifer chirped, looking slightly to the left of the sinner and not really caring for anything but Charlie's approval in this situation. He thinks he nailed the faux concern too, the pompous little cockrel.

Thankfully, his daughter is not the naive child he recalls. The King of Hell's eyes go wide eough to fall out of their sockets as his own beloved daughter hurls a half chopped cabbbage at his head. The leaves exploding about like confetti, leaving him bewildered and blinking sharply. "What?"

"That. Was NOT. An. Apology. Dad." Charlie growls, horns out and tail lashing. "We don't try to hurt others here, and I get you have an issue with Al for some reason... but this is ridiculous! You of all people know that earth salt can permanently harm sinners, so why would you do this?! I'm not as stupid as you think dad, it's clear you were hoping to get Alastor with this, because he's our main cook. And look what you did! Angel's hurt too, do you have any idea what his overlord might do to him because he's not 'camera ready'?"

Angel actually froze as icy dread clawed its way up his spine hand over hand. With everything happening, Angel really hadn't thought that far ahead, and now someone spoke the reality aloud he found himself visibky fighting back tears.

Val would make him pay for damaging company property...

Fuck, he'd be lucky if they let him leave the studio again.

"Worry not Angel," Comes an unexpectedly calm voice. "I will clear my schedule for the evening and deal with the moth. He's been on the to do list for a while..." Alastor reassured, admittedly uncertain why he was being so altruistic. He'd told himself to stop caring after the whole Adam fiasco. Damn it all.

"You... will? Why, I ain't got nothing to offer you..." Angel looked confused. That mask slipped over his face as he grinned salaciously, "unless ya changed your mind about that offer i made to suck ya-..."

It was his turn to get smacked with a wing.

"Behave."

"Anything for you, Whiskers..."

"Drop the act, its creepy." Husk groaned, wringing the teatowel out over something on Angel's side. The avian feline hissed in sympathy as Angel flinched back from the sensation, then cringed at the way the rest of his skin went taut. "Stay still if you can, I know it hurts, but you're doing great..."

"Indeed Angel, creepy is my shtick... do find your own." Al drawls, taking a subtle step away from the now-advancing Charlie, who had her demonic aspects out and more duckie shaped bandaids than anyone should have a right to have access to. "Please keep those away from me."

"Only if you let me flush the injury with at least some water to make sure we get it all off of you." Charlie negotiates, putting down the bandaids in a manner that suggested they could be snatched up again in a split second. And for a moment, Alastor feels pride at her clear if clumsy attempt at manipulation. She appears to have learned deceptive kindness, will demonic wonders never cease?

Lucifer is scowling. "Stop being such a drama queen. Here, I'll fix your little boo boos, even though its pointless because this is hell and you'll be hurt doing something violent or self destructive in the next four hours anyway, if you stop complaining about it. You got pranked, deal with it bambi."

Alastor bared his teeth sharply at the king's outstretched hand as the monarch advanced. Angel could see something trembling sharply under the coat from the corner of his eyes and guessed the deer instincts were not taking this threat all that well. "For someone who sees himself as above the so-called barbaric, cruel and hopeless sinners, sire, you certainly dont hesitate to utilise similar actions to harm out of petty jealousy."

The King pauses, scoffing arrogantly. "Jealousy? Of what, you? The freak manipulating my own daughter with this stupid sweet-cannibal overlord act? Fuck you. Because let's be real here... overlord or no, if i really wanted to I could just smite you and be done with it. Why can't you take a joke, Annette?"

Alastor learns towards the King. "Then do it, little majesty, smite away. Because I'm certain that a little spot of casual murder will repair the fracture between you and Charlotte fantastically and not just remind her how little you care for the sinners she's trying desperately to save."

He pauses, and if he physically could, Alastor would be scowling. "And for further clarification, you feathered fool - a prank is only worthwhile if the victims find it funny in the aftermath. Although given how isolated you've been, one can only imagine how little of the social graces or cues have remained. Is it any wonder everyone you ever loved has abandoned you?"

Lucifer was growing brighter with every word, horns out, tail lashing. Ah, there's the family resemblance.

There's a general group inhalation, and Angel sucks it through his teeth, his nerves flicked into flight or fight mode as the Devil himself seethes. You can feel his power like the pulses of sound at a concert, it moved through you and you know it could crush your bones with the right frequency.

"Sinner scum, you think you can show such disrespect to me and get away with it?" Lucifer's breathing hellfire on every word, very biblical and not at all overly-theatrical. How fascinating. "Let's see how smug you are when I strip your flesh from your bones!"

"Hah, you wouldn't even be the first to try it, you duck-obsessed dictator. Do attempt some originality, majesty, or did the creative flair disintegrate when you landed in Hell?" Alastor tosses back, appearing unconcerned about the fact that at least Vaggie and Charlotte are making definitive 'cut it out' gestures at him.

Shadows shoved Charlie, Vaggie, Husk and Angel out of the way as a blast of something bright hurtled through the kitchen towards Alastor; decimating retinas left and right.

Angel briefly wonders if Val would be open to having the scripts done in braille so he knows when to moan and when to say something dirty... because it didn't feel like he'd ever see again. Fuck, the sink seemed to be gone, as well as the walls behind it.

Charlie screamed in a horrified fury, leaping for her father, who was grinning as he panted in rage. "Not so smug now, are you, bambi?"

The grin dropped in pure shock as a rather disappointed-looking Alastor appeared from the dimming decimated area, appearing fundamentally unchanged... except for the collar flaring brightly, tight against his throat.

"Ah, blast. I'd hoped that would do the trick... do you want to try again, little majesty? I'm sure you have a number of insecurities I could prod at if you need motivation...?" Alastor asked, seizing at the lilac chain with obvious disgust behind that smile.

"You... what? How are you alive? Is that my-...?" Lucifer stammered, thrown off-guard. He could have vaporised Adam with that blast, why the fuck was the BELLHOP alive?

He receives a withering glare. "Do catch up. Yes, it is. No, I can't say where she is, though one might look upward for answers."

Charlie covers her mouth, breathing in for four and out for four. She can stay calm. Her dad tried to kill her not dad mentor overlord friend hotelier over some jibes, after he tried to pull a prank that could have severely injured him but backfired and got two members of her hotel instead. And something her missing mother did saved Al from the smiting, but he... was upset he didn't what? Die? Was this the time for crisis counselling? Was this a cry for help? What did the mental health first aid guide recommend? This was NOT in the curriculum!

Vaggie was there, immediately, her gentle hands holding her close and encouraging her to breathe. This was all so insane.

" If you are quite finished your tantrum, Little Majesty, would you heal Angel Dust already and show some contriteness for how your actions caused this harm?" Alastor snipes, redirecting attention to the other sinner. "He's quite injured, and I dislike knowing you have brought harm to a friendly party whilst attempting to torment myself. There will be a way to make you pay, little king, and I intend for you to worry about when and what form that will take."

Lucifer, possibly in shock, shuffled over to the starlet with a slightly vacant expression; reaching out mechanically to grab a wrist. He pulses gold light up the spider's arm, wrapping it around the injuries and soothing the harm without any visible effort.

By the time the light fades, even the hair has regrown to its normal pattern and consistency over the previously burned patches. Good as new. That was insane.

Husk has to physically catch Angel as his knees go weak from the sudden rush of endorphins as the pain stopped completely. They stumble a step before Angel can get his shit together in the wake of such an unexpected headrush.

Lucifer rounds on Alastor. "Now you're gonna tell me what the fuck that's about!" He gestures at the collar, " And why seemingly everyone else in Hell can land a blow on your frail crimson ass... but me trying to actively Smite you is waved off? Do you understand how physically impossible that actively is?"

Alastor lets his neck crack sickeningly to the side. "Hah, that's quite simple. She made it clear that I would not be allowed to let you stop me in any way, shape or form and wove it into the contract. Especially not die, unless it was in service to her daughter's hotel or ideals. Everything about you and your abilities is made to bend around that of your dear wife and her abilities; she bet the farm on being able to ensure against you causing harm to someone under her banner. You have no power here, little morningstar, and you most certainly aren't supposed to Be here. That has been made abundantly clear."

Lucifer found himself flinching back. He could hear the echoes of Lillith in those words, in her darker moments, when she'd lost composure against the only being in all of hell who could withstand her powerful fury.

Charlie looked stricken. "Al, what dad did wasn't right, and I'm not devaluing your experiences, but... everyone is welcome at the hotel. You can't say that to him."

Lucifer is looking at him pointedly, eyes narrowed and stomach roiling in horror as he deciphered this mess. "I don't... think that's what he meant, Char-Char. I think... your mother doesn't want me here, around you, and that's... upsetting her. Which used to be why palace staff got replaced so frequently... but I don't think you ever noticed, duckling."

"Why would she try to keep us apart?" Charlie frowned, her memories of time with her mother were so cheerful, interspersed with some odd moments of formailty and a bleakness. But who wasn't an angsty teen at some point?

Lucifer can't help the hysterical little laugh that escapes. "Charlie, she's done nothing but for your entire life. Why stop now?"

His jaw clicks shut as if horrified to have been so blunt.

"As disgusting as the words are in my mouth, I'm afraid I must agree with your father, Charlotte." Alastor grimaces somehow, the smile was there but he looked like he'd gotten a mouthful of poison with no way to spit it out. "You were to be kept separate, and away from... toxic idealism i believe is the wording used. Though I would argue you've already received a fatal dose lready, based on the hotel alone."

A laugh track plays, it feels perfunctory. Expected.

"Did she... make you come here?" Charlie asks bracing herself. It was pretty obvious, but given her mind was whirling form the last half hour, she feels she's doing pretty well actually!

"Yes, and no. Not at first, at least. Initially she just wanted someone to keep an eye on you, especially during your initial forays out into Pride. Your... enthusiasm often outweighed your common sense, before you found Vagatha, who then took on the role of guarding you." Alastor made a dramatic wink at the ex-orcist, who flushed slightly gold under the scrutiny.

"It was later, after that rousing disaster of a television program, when I approached you directly at the hotel that she decided to add stipulations about this project. Though her... request... to keep the royal house divided has been a source of contention as of late, especially with the recent meetings with Heaven and battle."

"So you're... sort of here on your own free will?" Charlie clung to hope that this answer would silence the crushing guilt in her stomach.

"You could say so. I wasn't forced to come to the hotel, that was out of interest and convenience, but once here it was identified that... she would prefer I stay. Which has been most frustrating." Alastor's right ear flattened, the left was damaged and twitched in place.

That prompted Angel to step in. "Okay, can we do story time when Al's not covered in salt-related injuries? I can tell you it sucks harder than Tina Titfucker in Tornad-hoes at Large 4: Return of the Gobbler, and she's a vacuum cleaner of a sinner when she gets going."

Vaggie looks revolted at the segue, but Husk is grinning.

Lucifer stiffens. "...I did say I'd fix it, didn't I, bambi? Can't have you swooning like a damsel in the middle of a big plot reveal... this isn't a hellanovella."

Alastor steps out of range of the hand, and is immediately bracketed by Angel and Husk. "I am willing to eat my way out of this, so anyone who wants to keep their hands on their bodies has until the count of 1." he snarls at them.

"Nah, I think you're going to chill out and trust us..." Angel teases, poking out his tongue and tightening his grip.

"If you think the whole... other night situation is going to save you frm my wrath, I assure you, the debt has been repaid already with this little mess. Do not test me." the Overlord snipes, going deathly still as the radio dials flashed. But intriguingly the sinners don't seem to be phased.

Angel seems intrigued. "Wait, you remember that? How'd you know I was there too?"

"Well, my good man, I know two tall pink-adjacent sinners and you, sir, were not in Rosie's signature attire." Alastor deadpans, as Husk clearly attained a ery specific visual and bit his lip to stifle the laughter. "I do appreciate the assistance, but had assumed it was implied that the reciprocal debt was up to me to figure out how to fulfil..."

"Er, no... sometimes you just help people ya care about, so they don't die. That's what people do. Would you have hesitated if it was like Rosie, or Charlie?" Angel asks, wondering who fucked up this guy's sense of trust... but then recalled where they lived and decided the answer was 'probably everyone'.

"That's... different."

"Did you three fuck? What's this coded thing happening here?" Vaggie interjects, looking to be on the verge of pulling her hair out.

Husk's hat falls off as he bursts into deep gales of laughter at the very idea. Angel pouts, "Aw Whiskers, it'd be real hot if we did... are you laughing at little old me...?"

Alastor appeared to be considering the implications of their statements and the current positioning of everyone. It was a plausible question.

He sighs, tensing slightly as Lucifer stepped closer. "No, rest assured I did not breach any of the fraternisation rules of the hotel. These two were foolish enough not to take the opportunity for a raise in status and power, when they discovered I was injured after the little fight with Heaven. Husker maintained he was the only one who was present, but I recall more than they suspect."

Angel gasped. "Fuck, you weren't awake for the stitches were you? I shoulda given you something."

"Rest assured, it wouldn't have been the worst thing that's happened to me, but no... that bit is not part of my recollections." Alastor assured, wondering why he felt the need to. He should have pressed on that guilt like a bruise, delighted in the agony and regret Angel exuded. But he was tired, and in pain and the... stars or something were incorrectly aligned for such schadenfreude. Something along those lines.

The spider and the cat seemed to relax a fraction.

"Good, cause I'd've felt like an asshole otherwise. That took ages to fix... you shoulda said something earlier, asshole." Angel mumbles, tightening his hold as Lucifer made contact. "No, keep all tentacles to yourself, Al... and teeth! Fuck, I need that arm, bad overlord! I'm not above smacking you with a rolled up newspaper if you snap at me again!"

"You wouldn't dare..." Alastor gasped, shocked.

"He would, and I'd find the sunday edition, so it had extra heft." Husk confirmed, the traitor.

Skin healed over, fur regrew, and the persistent sting seemed to fade. Lucifer paused, and then tugged the thinnest thread of somthing from Alastor's chest, causing the sinner writhe at the sensation. It was fine as a hair, tangling in on itself and disappearing into the aether at a casual flick of the devil's wrist.

"Got rid of the divine grace holding that little scratch open on you. You're welcome. Now, tell me more about this deal with my wife." Lucifer says, tugging his hand back as Alastor sagged, breathing heavily.

Husk turned and flared his wings, creating a bit of a privacy screen as he checked in with the Overlord. "You still alive?"

"Indeed. It's been... some time since there was a lack of pain in my everyday that it quite caught me off-guard." Alastor mumbled back, and wasn't that fucking sad to hear?

"You wanna talk to short king though? I can give him the old Sinder wink and take him somewhere to forget his wife for a bit, if you get me, and you can escape." Angel suggests, winking outrageously.

Alastor rolls his eyes. "I can't ask anyone to take on that level of vile task for my sake..."

There's an offended "HEY! I'm a CATCH you fucking period stain! Anyone would be delighted to sleep with m-... oh, sorry honey, I forgot you were there." from the other side of Husk's wing curtain.

Alastor straightened and used a flash of magic to repair his attire, and that of Angel, removing the muss of moments before. He nods to Husk, who drops his wings.

"What do you want to know?"

"The exact terms of the deal, as best you can provide it, because I'm sensing a silence order in the binding." Lucifer says, not quite a command, but bordering on it. Alastor glares at the mini monarch, but Charlotte looks on the verge of tears, so he relents.

"She has requested someone watch out for and protect Charlotte, and ensure her safety, no matter the cost. As I mentioned before there were caveats about that, and the hotel, but overall Charlotte is the centre of the matter. This includes managing any threats to the hotel, and not inciting any major overlord based drama, as she liked to term it. It's the main reason I haven't ripped Vox's head off and shoved it up the moth's backside like a matroyshka doll." Alastor's expression went sinister, and it definitely felt like there was backstory there that no one wanted to touch right now.

"Uh-huh... and what else?"

"Keep you away. Isolate Charlotte from your influence if possible. Keep her in a position where she can be seen as a harmless figurehead that Heaven will never feel the need to deal with or remove. thus the encouragement in this redemption farce." Alastor says, waving a hand and trying to ignore how Charlotte's fallen expression panged at the heart he definitely didn't have.

"But... it could work!" Charlie says, her passion and desperation driing her to tearfulness.

"Exactly. It COULD work, and she is afraid for you if it should."

"...what?" Charlie jerks back, blinking owlishly.

"There is... precedent, for a sinner being redeemed. I can't tell you about that, because she has bound it... but she didn't say that I couldn't mention it has happened before just the details."

"He's lying Charlie, don't get your hopes up." Lucifer warns, movng towards his daughter as her expression wars between hope and confusion. "She could have told him to say that..."

"I can also tell you, that redemption confuses Heaven, and she was told to deal with it last time it happened. Which is why she..." the next words cut off as the chain flared. The silencing charm in effect.

"Hmmm, you know, I don't recall if I was banned from explaining how the redemption allegedly happened... I understand they were out in an extermination with at least one person they didn't want to see die, and foolishly decided to stand between them and angel blades. I still don't understand how that resulted in redemption, because realistically thousands of sinners have tried to protect others from Exorcists over the years of slaughter... why this particular one?"

Charlie's eyes went wide. "That's... a really big clue, thanks Al! Ohhhh we need to look into this, it has to be about the intent! Or maybe the connection?"

"Please breathe, baby..." Vaggie murmurs, gently.

"Anything else?" Lucifer asked, frowning at Alastor. He didn't like this situation. It felt too convenient.

"She made it clear I was not to directly raise arms against or antagonise Heaven, particularly her first husband. To ensure this, she put a rather frustrating bind on my powers, I have some access... but not all." Alastor seemed to be aiming for nonchalant, but was clearly uncomfortable with having shared such a vulnerability, possibly wondering why he had done so.

Charlie looked like she wanted to grab his hands and say something heartfelt. Lucifer looked a tad too smug... and Vaggie's expression was torn between realisation and a base-born desire to throttle him. That, he could work with.

"Are you telling me, you old-timey idiota, that you faced the first man without any angelic steel and at half your power? What were you THINKING?!" she explodes, yanking at her hair.

"It was a conflict of orders, protect Charlotte and the Hotel but don't raise arms. It was the best caveat I could find... and honestly he was such a sloppy little thing, if it had't been for the guitar axe nonsense damaging my staff, it wouldn't have taken much more to kill him."

"But you-... ugh..." there was a string of words Husk looked like he agreed with but refused to translate. "Not the point! You should have said something! We could have had you put up the shield from somewhere less vulnerable to attack... had someone near you WITH the steel so you didn't have to pick it up. It's called trust, you idiot, try it sometime!"

Alastor's ears were flat back on his skull, eyes wide. He seemed taken aback she'd care at all.

"Welcome to being cared about, Al, you'll never know peace or privacy again... but the people make it worth it." Angel says, slinging an arm over the Overlord's shoulders. "I do have one question though... how can you be, y'know, in a soul deal, and still keep your souls?"

"Ah, that's simple, negotiation. Technically, there are still a number of souls under Husker, who is under myself. It's about how you word the contract."

"Oh... okay, that checks. So... how'd you meet her majesty?"

"Well, after a number of midnight rendevo-.. I'm kidding your majesty. We had an unexpected meeting under unusual circumstances, and a deal was the only way to prevent being trapped somewhere annoying. That's all I am willing to say on the matter."

Lucifer's red eyes seemed to See something before he nodded to himself. "I can see the truth of what you're hiding, sinner. Are you in danger from my wife? Does she... punish disobedience like she used to with the hellborne staff?"

"...perhaps, but it is harder to reach across realms. So for the most part it is additional limitations or draining power from afar. Annoyances, at best, but at least my skin stays on."

"Listen, I don't like you... but Charlie does, and I know what she's going to ask me. I could do it... but I need to know why you and Charlie have a chain between you. I can see it plain as day." Lucifer asks, voice glacial.

"It's not-..." Charlie starts.

"It's for a Favour, so do unclench. She wanted Charlotte on a soulchain to control her indirectly, but... well, that didn't quite fit the definition of Protection, from my perspective. Unfortunate, that. But a Favour allowed someone to share information about angelic steel to another party without repercussions, so it was necessary."

"...if I find out you're lying, and I do this, I will be actively able to smite you. You know that, right?" Lucifer says, again, not a threat... just... stating a fact.

"Well, given I was willing to allow it earlier for the off chance it might break the deal or kill me, I would say go right ahead, Sire." Alastor shrugged, "But if you want a deal..."

"Nope. Now, bend over," everyone ignored Angel's gale of laughter, "so I can reach the stupid thing and shut your eyes. I mean everyone, of course."

The King does... something. A light almost brighter than the attempted smiting, smote-ening, smything? Who knows, burns through the room and the whole place vibrates as a metallic snap is heard.

Shadows zoom up the walls and across the floors, the room fills with symbols and radios crackle to full volume momentarily. It settles quickly. "Apologies, that was a lot of power rushing back at once, it was allow it to manifest, or explode."

"....I suppose I owe you thanks, your majesty." Alastor said, saying without saying the implicit thanks. "Now, if you'll excuse us, I believe that there's a rather pesky insect requiring extermination. Come along Husker, Angel... let's take the Void!"

Husk groans, but it's swallowed up by the sudden wave of shadows.

"Dad, can you clean up the salt? I don't want anyone else to get hurt." Charlie asked, "And... and then ould we go and talk somewhere? About mum? And the things she did? I think we need to..."

"Anything for you Charlie. You know that." Lucifer reassured, snapping away the mess.

As they left the kitchen, there was a tiny cry of despair from niffty, who had escaped her confinement too late to play in the Pain Snow.

-----------

Flaming debris rained down upon the few employees Angel had pointed out should probably go down with the ship, as the Studio burned. Husker helped tie the fuckers up.

Bits of Valentino rained down upon them all, as Alastor finished tearing the man to ribbons. Jazz and maniacal laughter filled the air.

A drone paused overhead and Alastor smiled into the camera. "Oh don't get jealous, picture box, you're next on the list!" he coos, and holds upValentino's head. "See you soon!"

The drone jerks away at speed.

Angel fumbles to catch the skull thrown his way, screams and drops it. "No, no thank you I don't need it on my wall, thanks..."

"Ah, a pity."

"Thanks for this... Boss." Angel grins, and feels mild relief to maifest a chain that wasn't pink for once. It disintegrates. "What?"

"You have your freedom, I can't and won't uphold the deal you had with the Moth, it's vile... but if you want a deal wherein I place you in charge of the other souls from the moth and you do what you will with their skills, consent and some funding... that's up to you."

"Whiskers?"

"I'd say read the fine print... but yeah, that sounds like a good deal to me. Any chance you'd let me go, boss?"

"You know, you've caught me in a good mood, why not?"

Husk's chain snaps too.

"Now, who wants to go to my room for a stiff-..." Angel grins, Alastor glares. "drink of some top notch whickey, and we shall renegotiate your potential contracts, hmm? We can come and kill the picture box and the doll another day. Ah, I'm sure dear Charlotte will be delighted to hear of your freedom, Angel! And yours, Husker!"

"Yeah, yeah, love ya too you emtionally repressed murder machine!" Angel grins, pulling the pair of Overlords towards him in an expected hug. Husk makes a confused mrrrp? and Alastor, he made a small Bleat.

Angel's eyes go ROUND in delight, looking at the pair. "Holy fuck, if I knew you guys came with sound effects like that I would've been squishing you into hugs far earlier, that's cute as hell. Like nuggsy-level adorrable..."

"husker, your man seems over-tired and clearly delusional. Do get him under control while I prepare a portal?"

Husk snorts. "You're on your own, Al, anyway I know you're fawn'd of us."

For that, he gets no warning as the floor turns to shadow void.

Husk and Angel would maintain it was worth it though.

Alastor pinches his nose, exhausted. "Ah, but the show must go on, hmmm? Let's see what happens once the curtain rises after such a lengthy... intermission."

His smile fade out last, as the overlord travels to the hotel with his hapless passengers. There were deals to make and Heaven to overthrow... no time to waste!

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

End

I had a vague idea and it spiralled, so tired.

[oddeyechrollo]

girl, so confusing.

apart of the virtual angel series.

(reader and machi were weird w each other as kids… we’re grown now though. possible grammar errors)

“i always hated you, and sometimes i’d pray that you’d disappear.” machi stated. you furrowed your eyebrows and gave her a once over. she sighed, continuing, “and then… i felt guilty because you were gone.” she finished, looking away. that was fine, machi had never been open with you before. eye contact was a minimal worry. “i was envious of how close you were with chrollo and pakunoda. they were my friends too, but you always seemed to be their favorite…” she finished.

ah. is… is that why…

“is that why you used to bark at me when we were alone?” you reluctantly asked. machi groaned and you laughed, she mumbled a low “seriously…” before you continued. “seriously what?! that used to scare AND confuse me, girl!” you giggled, remembering the first time she’d done it.

-

she was 5 and you were 6, you had just gotten out of mass at the church and chrollo had invited you to watch a tape over some animated silent film along with a few other kids. he asked you to seek out shiela, shalnark, and of course, machi. you’d done your job easily, but as you approached machi in the girls bathroom, she looked at you with a scowl on her face.

“hi machi! um- chrollo wanted to know-“

“bark! bark bark bark!” she jumped closer to you.

you were always a sensitive child. you dashed out of the bathroom and began to cry out of fear? confusion? you were certainly overwhelmed by… whatever that was. you dried your tears and went back to the tv room, chrollo had pulled you aside to ask why you had cried, but you wouldn’t give him an answer until everyone left that night.

he laughed, much to your dismay. “like a puppy? machi?”

“she scared me! why are you laughing?!” you rebutted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“it’s funny to imagine, don’t be mad!” chrollo argued back.

-

“i didn’t know how to express my anger,” she rushed out, almost forced. you laughed once more, moving your hand closed to hers and squeezing it. for the first time, machi didn’t move away from you.

“all’s forgiven my friend. it’s okay, i understand childhood jealousy. that’s how i felt about shalnark sometimes, but that’s a story for another time.” you smiled at her, she returned with with a quick smirk and looked away again.

“i’m glad you’re okay…. despite everything that happened to you, you’re alive and i can’t begin to fathom what they did to you that night. that’s why i promised myself that if i somehow met you again… if there was even a chance of it, i’d apologize.” machi explained.

“i’m sorry for being a cry baby bitch after you barked at me,” you snorted. after the first occurrence, you had a nasty habit of running away from machi whenever you were alone. even when someone else was around, you’d hide behind them to shield yourself from machi’s wrath.

“it’s fine, i was being a little weirdo anyway,” she replied curtly. ah, the mask was on again. that was fine too. you let go of her hand and stood up from your couch.

“you still like strawberries yeah? i’m gonna chop some up in a bowl if you’d like to share,” you offered as you headed to your kitchen.

“yeah, i’d like that.”

[mdhwrites]

how would you have written eda's curse and Luz's time in hexside? Eda's curse supposed to be a stand in for chronic illness but not only did they get rid of it they turned it into her 'superpower'- I know a lot of people call that a bad faith critic but it bothers me and just because hexside is cool and magic doesn't mean it's separate from the rest of the BI's laws and darwinism plus Luz is neurodivergent and has no biological magic- she would have issues with bullying and learning like she did back on her world- things wouldn't be magically fixed and might even be worse?

Why is it that The Owl House has nothing interesting to be done with powerlessness? To turn one's theorized weaknesses into strengths? Why do they just have to become strengths?

This is one of the biggest ways in which I would argue TOH is brain dead. Most other aspects of the show I can criticize but I have to admit that they tried. That there's something there... But it's entirely missing here. Which the fact that in an adventure series, the show cannot challenge the protagonist when they have a SEVERE disadvantage like this is emblematic of how the show doesn't challenge anyone on anything.

Eda's curse is like THE plot point of S1. Its finale and S2's opening, and even Affearances, all revolve around how we have gone from being worried about using magic to not being able to use magic. It's a HUGE status quote, especially because it leaves these characters so much more vuln- Oh never mind. Eda has explosive potions and glyphs that outdo all of her magic that she did before. It's not a problem. Move the fuck on.

I talked to an author after Clouds on the Horizon about how Eda gaining a coven sigil means nothing. They argued back that she'd lose her magic then. I shot back that she already lost it... And they admitted, being a fanfic author for TOH, that they FORGOT EDA DIDN'T HAVE MAGIC.

But why would you even remember that? She uses more magic with the glyphs than she did without them. The one time the curse really got in the way was with Tibbles. Then it not just became a superpower, it had EXTRA POWERS! Like what we saw in Eda's Requiem. Her magic genuinely got more interesting and more devastating AFTER losing it.

And this paralleled with Luz. Covention is the ONE time her not having magic comes up as something that puts her in danger and the answer is just to have someone else do the magic, which is always the solution in S1 early on. Need to fight Bounty Hunters? Bring in Willow. Need to escape detention? Yo Gus, use that good good illusion magic of yours. My own unique personality traits, skills and abilities instead? Why the fuck would we use that when everyone is overpowered and that's SO much easier a solution?

And once Luz does have her full arsenal, she rivals ANY other mage we've seen below Lilith's level. Fight a Selkidamus? Sure, I'm better than the entire fucking boat and will solo this bitch after they fail and I only need them for physical strength. The Conformatorium is my bitch by the end of S1 despite no training or practice. I can just walk up to Warden Wrath and render him completely at my mercy with just slips of paper. After those two back to back moments, anytime Luz loses or is challenged is just narrative contrivance because we've seen that her power is essentially limitless. It doesn't even cost her energy since her stamina seems entirely disconnected from her spells...

Which Gus reinforces because when he picks up glyphs, even when nervous with them, they are bluntly stronger than any other version we've seen of those spells. The largest fireball in the entire show is when Gus nervously casts his first glyph. It's horseshit.

And as you point out, it has cascading effects. If you want boring combat because otherwise you would need to sacrifice time from character work, that's one thing. However, the show's premise is on Luz learning magic. Learning to be the best version of herself. Because magic is not challenged though, she does not have to improve as a person to improve her magic. That's why three of her four glyphs have nothing to do with moral lessons. Arguably, all of them, and that's not getting into how the combo glyphs happen off screen and you can't argue shortening because all but one combo glyph is gotten before the shortening took effect. As such, you're not doing character work AND you're not doing interesting, entertaining combat or adventures.

I think the most damning thing here, period, is that I've mixed these subjects because it's obvious. A depowered, master of magic working with someone who wants to be that master of magic to understand the world and their abilities. It should be a bonding point for them that they don't have magic or that magic comes hard for them. But... It's not. It literally never is. The closest it EVER comes to that is when Luz teaches Eda glyphs which is like all of two minutes between two episodes and that's in SEASON TWO. It's not a reversal of dynamics because the first dynamic just straight up NEVER HAPPENED.

But it's easier to just give them powers. To just give super forms or combo glyphs or whatever else the person needs in that moment. It's easier than exploring the complicated subjects of not having something everyone else has, even though shows for TODDLERS literally have done it for decades in single episodes.

How am I supposed to agree that this is the deepest show with the most complex writing when they could not bother even once answering the question "How does someone without magic win against that win against something that does?" And for a show with two of its protagonists entirely missing magic at different points in the show, that's downright embarrassing.

TOH would have to be more than just another isekai using fantasy elements for power fantasy elements to give a shit about that though. Shame to anyone who actually cares about those genres though, this isn't the place for you. See you next tale.

======+++++======

Before anyone tries to crack back with this btw: Putting a glyph on Belos WOULD count if not for the fact that Luz has to break every version of the invisibilty spell we've ever seen for that to have worked. Her magic just did what it needed to do. She wasn't smart, the show cheated, which is essentially the whole point of this blog. And for those curious: EVERY other use of the Invisibility spell includes making the entire person vanish which makes sense since it is connected to the breath of the caster. Then out of nowhere, Luz can do it to a single object that she's wearing despite no one ever making their shirt even accidentally vanish. That's not clever, that's bullshit.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[beelzebuddy-catan]

Obey Me Headcanons - Part 4

Mammon became luckier when the exchange program started. Not because of MC but because of Luke.

Satan is in an improv group but if you ask no he isn't.

Asmo gives people he's modelling with backhanded compliments to throw them off their game. Of course he'll look better but you can never be too sure. Right?

All of the brothers, except Satan sleep with lights on because they can't fall asleep in full darkness after living in the Celestial Realm.

Beel can't tie a tie. Satan tied his once and now he just loosens and tightens it.

Belphie can't tie his shoes. They're either Velcro, slip on, or untied.

He will never admit it.

Which is why he buys lace up shoes and just tells people he's too tired to tie them.

Levi wears heelies religiously and will just zoom out of the room when he's had enough.

Simeon pronounces lmao like LUH-Mayo but nobody will correct him.

Once in a fight when Satan was getting pissed™, MC turned to walk away and he said something under his breath.

MC spun around and slapped him.

It happened so fast he immediately snapped out of his rage fit from surprise and started laughing.

MC sells Mammon's stuff that he's forgotten about (you know he's got storage lockers full of things he doesn't even remember buying).

They save it for when he asks for money and pretends to loan it to him, know he won't pay them back.

MC has said "oh I thought you were the Avatar of ____, not the avatar of being a bitch ass" to at least one of the brothers.

Mammon was fucking around and chased some baby geese only for the mom to beat the shit out of him.

If Lilith had fallen with the brothers and become a demon, her sin would have been wrath.

Any being that can see ghosts/spirits can catch glimpses of her having violent reactions to coinciding with Satan's if he gets mad.

When MC drinks too much and needs someone to pick them up, they voice text Mammon asking for him to come.

Except half way through they always go: oh never mind Solomon just walked in. I'll just have a sleep over with him.

Mammon is ALWAYS there faster than a pizza delivery guy promising 20 minutes or less or a free pizza.

While Levi had his nickname long before Satan, it only really became commonplace when Satan was young because he couldn't pronounce the TH in leviathan.

Asmo can't French braid his hair, it always turns out as a Dutch braid.

Levi, however, is amazing at all different types of braids, so now he has to braid Asmo's hair

Diavolo thinks the funniest joke he's ever heard is the updog joke.

Mammon has gotten tricked into several multi level marketing scams.

He tries unsuccessfully to get his brothers to join each time.

Solomon started one just to mess with him.

It's the only time Mammon has been successful at it.

[papersonghosts]

Im back, bitches!!!

Saw a lot of people doing characters as the Seven Deadly Sins, and I wanted to do it. So, here you go. (I will be posting other parts, like this. With Virtues, greek gods; etc.)

Carmen: Pride (Superbia)—but in a noble, almost heroic way.

Carmen is highly confident in her abilities, always staying steps ahead of her pursuers. She takes immense pride in her work, whether it's outsmarting V.I.L.E. or reclaiming stolen artifacts. She has a bit of a showmanship streak—she doesn’t just steal, she makes a statement. Unlike typical arrogance, her pride is balanced by a strong moral compass.

However, unlike the sinful version of Pride, Carmen’s is more about self-assurance and justice rather than arrogance or vanity. If anything, she embodies the "Virtuous Pride" of someone who knows their worth but doesn’t let it consume them.

Shadowsan: Wrath (Ira)—but in a disciplined and controlled way, more like righteous fury than reckless anger.

Shadowsan is a warrior, trained in combat, and his fighting style reflects precision and intensity.

Early on, he is ruthless as a V.I.L.E. operative, showing little hesitation in battle.

His eventual betrayal of V.I.L.E. comes from anger at their corruption—his wrath is focused on justice rather than destruction.

Unlike uncontrolled wrath, Shadowsan channels his anger strategically, teaching Carmen discipline rather than revenge.

Shadowsan’s version of Wrath is more like a samurai’s honor-bound fury—cold, calculated, and only unleashed when truly necessary.

Dexter Wolfe: Sloth (Acedia)—but not in the traditional "lazy" sense. Instead, he represents the tragic side of Sloth: missed potential, helplessness, and loss.

Dexter was a loving father but never got to fulfill his potential due to his untimely death.

His story revolves around missed opportunities—he was unable to raise Carmen, stop V.I.L.E., or leave behind a legacy beyond tragedy.

He represents a life cut short before it could achieve greatness, much like how Sloth is seen as wasted potential.

Unlike the typical "laziness" version of Sloth, Dexter’s story reflects a tragic stillness—someone who could have done more but was stopped before he had the chance.

The Chief/ Tamara Fraser: Envy (Invidia)—but in a righteous, justice-driven way rather than pure jealousy.

Obsession with Carmen: Chief is laser-focused on capturing Carmen, partly because Carmen operates outside the law and succeeds where A.C.M.E. fails.

Frustration with Carmen’s independence: While A.C.M.E. is bound by rules, Carmen plays by her own, making Chief resentful of Carmen’s freedom and effectiveness.

Determined to prove A.C.M.E. is superior: Envy isn’t just about jealousy—it’s about wanting what others have. Chief wants the control, knowledge, and success Carmen has but in a lawful way.

She’s not malicious, but she’s relentless. She’s constantly trying to outdo Carmen, expose her, and prove that A.C.M.E. is the real force for justice.

Unlike the corrupt version of Envy, Chief’s comes from a desire to uphold order—but it still blinded her to the fact that Carmen isn’t truly a criminal.

Coach Brunt: Gluttony (Gula)—not just in the literal sense (since she enjoys food), but in a deeper, greed-driven hunger for power, control, and loyalty.

She craves power and control. Brunt isn’t satisfied with just being a V.I.L.E. operative—she wants Carmen to stay under her influence, and she gets angry when Carmen rejects her.

She’s emotionally gluttonous. She demands loyalty and obedience from her students, treating them like possessions rather than individuals.

She indulges in violence and brute force. Unlike more tactical villains, Brunt revels in destruction and direct confrontation, enjoying the thrill of overpowering others.

She has a literal love of excess. From her rough, indulgent personality to her big, boisterous presence, Brunt embodies the overindulgence of Gluttony—never satisfied, always wanting more.

She’s not just physically strong—her greed for control, loyalty, and brute-force dominance makes her a consuming force.

Gray: Greed (Avaritia)—but in a tragic, conflicted way rather than pure selfishness.

He’s torn between loyalty and self-interest. Unlike Carmen, who rejects V.I.L.E., Gray struggles with his desire for a better life and the temptation of wealth and power.

He wants more than what he has. While Carmen steals for justice, Gray remains in V.I.L.E. partly because it offers him security, status, and a sense of belonging.

His greed isn’t just material—it’s emotional. He longs for a connection with Carmen but also wants the perks of his V.I.L.E. lifestyle. His greed for both worlds ultimately leaves him torn.

He makes selfish choices. Even when given a chance to leave V.I.L.E., he hesitates, prioritizing his own comfort and gain over doing the right thing.

Unlike villains who are purely greedy, Gray’s Greed is tied to his internal struggle—he wants Carmen’s approval, but he also wants the easy rewards of V.I.L.E. His biggest flaw is that he can’t choose between them.

Gray's greed extends to Carmen herself. He wants her friendship—but also his V.I.L.E. life. Instead of making a clear choice, he tries to have both Carmen and the benefits of working for the bad guys.

He craves her approval. Even when they’re on opposite sides, he still wants Carmen to understand him and forgive his choices.

He has a hard time letting go. Even when Carmen fully opposes V.I.L.E., Gray keeps looking for ways to stay connected to her.

He regrets losing her, but not enough to change. His greed for both his old bond with Carmen and his current life keeps him from fully committing to one or the other.

Gray’s story is tragic because his Greed isn’t just about wealth—it’s about Carmen herself. He wants to hold onto their past, even when it’s impossible.