#the audio and just her care and attention makes it very soothing

[artoriarts]

I think that being alone in frasco made aba a very sensory-oriented person. and that translates a lot into how she shows affection, especially given paracelsus, while he can be hugged or kissed or humped, can’t really reciprocate too terribly much and probably doesn’t feel it as vividly or in the same way as those of biological body. basically what I’m saying is aba does asmr for paracelsus as a form of intimacy

[metalichotchoco]

Robots and their voices

Get ready because this is a long one ;]

A lot of the time characters are defined by their voices but with ai/ robotic characters this works overtime since it’s usually the only outlet into their emotions or character. They can get away with being an off screen presence since they typically aren’t psychical in nature. For all purposes in most cases they are nothing but their voice

Like with Hal, the only way we receive information about this character in visual mediums is his voice. It’s soothing like a lullaby, careful with even tones,smooth.Prideful in the sense of confidence not arrogance. You can hear his ego at being a perfect machine but it’s not boastful there’s no smirk when he says that. It’s how he views himself. You can imagine Hal with a soft smile for most of the movie, trying not to alarm staff. Only at the end does his voice get small, when he pauses for more time than normal as if to take a breath you cannot hear and that he does not need.

Edgar is loud and brash when feeling intense emotion which is a lot. He’s screechy and almost awkward in tonality. When he’s in a better mood he’s still peppy and small sounding. A sense of confusion is what a lot of lines read as but once he looks it up or figures it out, he’s much lower and monotone. With the Cinderella dialogue it sounds like he’s reading the information straight off the website he found it from.hes hot and cold he’s immature. A pest more than a true menace, due to his “newness” he doesn’t talk down to the humans in the movie but he’s underhanded and petty, craving love and attention and begging to be heard. A lot of the time you can hear his voice sort of breaking. It’s probably an audio issue from the time the movie was made, a filter over the actors voice but it works incredibly well for him.

Glados and her lines ooze sarcasm. She talks down to you more like you’re a nuisance she has to deal with than an equal in any sense (until potato glad but she’s almost a completely different character,not quite though) you can hear the exact moment she lies to you directly, diegectically it’s as if she needs to find a loophole to lie to your face so there’s a slight disconnect. Glados has a very singsong voice, her pronunciation going into higher and lower registers to express emotion rather than actually putting in actual anger or happiness into the monotone. It does a good job of selling this robotic lady who doesn’t view you with any sort of respect until she has to in the second game.

Whealtey by comparison is very non robotic in his voice or manner which makes sense since he’s a personality core and none of the standard robotic traits like objectivity, rationality, intelligence or indifference are present in him specifically on purpose. He’s anxious but optimistic, he rambles to sound like he knows what he’s talking about but it makes it even more apparent he has zero clue what he’s doing. You can immediately tell he’s incompetent at his job from the second you first really talk to him and it makes him all the more endearing.his power trip doesn’t exactly change that either, just attempts to self aggrandize, look and feel important. He sounds “confident” but he talks to the point where you realize just how insecure and unsure he is about anything. The British accent is also weirdly enough feeding into his fake intellectualism since Americans tend to view people with said accent as smarter even if they aren’t saying anything particularly smart.

The narrator is what you’d get if you crossed glados and Whealtey’s attitudes to character voice work but that’s reductive to him and the Stanley parable in general. The whole game is predicated on whether or not you listen to him/ mess with him. It’s an interactive story in the most basic of descriptions. The narrator is literally trying to talk you through a story and gets more distressed and annoyed as the player tries to exert and wrestle control from him. When you think of a narrator this type of voice comes to mind, a British masculine monotone that ebbs and flows with the story. This whole game is a meta narrative so it’s a very smart choice for this to be the case. There’s no robotic tone to his voice because that’s not the point, he’s basically the only real character in the game which makes him feel more human than the actual human we control who cannot speak, only act. He’s the one that makes us feel anything about the game. More the most part the narrator conveys a self assured calm tone, a blank canvas to react to the players weird actions.

Last for today is am and oh boy is he a doozy. Mr Ellison really does his creation justice on how powerful his performance can be. Am in the game and radio drama are actually sort of different characters but it makes sense since in the game he’s literally playing a game with the survivors whereas in the radio drama we get closer to the actual book. For a lot of these characters, the protagonists tend to be silent or reclusive but for am to still be as dominant of a presence with 5 other speaking roles is a testament to the type of character he is. For game am, he sounds almost like a car salesman. He talks down to the survivors, even very obviously flirting with them. You can imagine the mile wide grin on his face when he pulls something. But he’s not exactly desperate, more just like he’s playing a sick little game. Am does things that not even the most human sounding ais do, blowing raspberrys, coughing, laughing, crying. His cadence even makes it feel as if he’s breathing even though you cannot hear it. He’s very intense and visceral. He can go from relaxed and playful to manic and deranged so naturally and it’s what makes him so scary. This computer is far far too human. Everything he does also reminds you that he cannot move or breathe, he cannot scream or cry but it’s clear that he should. The reality of what he is looms over this performance. For as sad as he gets, no tears will flow.his chest will not move because he does not have one.

[owedfavors]

ON MUSIC & THEATRE ;

una grows up almost invisible to her parents, who focus all their attention on their eldest boys. while atten’s art is frowned upon, their parents scarcely notice una’s own artistic inclinations. the illyrian predilection for logic and pragmatic efficiency do not exclude artistic expression, which is seen to be a logical way both to explore the nature of existence and to relax after a day’s hard exertions. theatre is a tool for education and for self-expression, music both mathematical exploration and emotional release. una’s parents themselves would not approve, but una never sings when they are home, and what they do not know, they do not bother to ask.

there’s no music to be had in their house. una is three and in her first day of school when she first hears music, played to the youngsters during their breaks to sooth them and help them nap. she sits awake instead, fascinated. and she remembers. walking home, hand in hand with torv ( irritated that he must bring his sister home ), she sings back the melody she had heard. he warns her not to let their parents hear, but he does not stop her.

she sings her way home for the rest of the week, and that weekend, much to her surprise, torv brings her a small audio player, tiny enough to tuck beneath her pillow yet with a memory large enough to contain a significant database of music. he cycles it out for her periodically, when she grows bored of the songs it contains, leaving the librarians to pick their preferences to add to her repertoire. when she’s old enough, una takes the device in herself, makes her own selections from the colony’s database. between the librarians’ recommendations and her own choices, she explores the breadth of illyrian music, throughout illyrian history and across the fragmented colonies and subcultures.

school introduces her to theatre through educational plays in the younger classes that gave way by the time she’s ten to theatre of a more artistic form. theatre offers a freedom from expectation, from the constraints of how she is supposed to be, from the well-behaved and dispassionate, hard-working, quiet child she’s allowed to be at home. she can be someone else, be anything and anyone else, freely and with no repercussions. she delights in it. she’s good at it. her parents never know; her parents don’t care. torv, and sometimes zhad, are the only two who come to attend the performances, and torv doesn’t miss one, even after he’s left the family.

her parents don’t care, that is, until she’s twelve, and her teachers place her top of the list for candidacy for schooling in illyria in two years, if her grades hold. it’s the first time her parents take notice, the first time since torv’s failure that they stop to think that maybe, just maybe, they have a child who can succeed. for two years, they limit her as they had torv before her, but they cannot take singing away from her in the privacy of her own company, and during the subsequent two years that she studies on illyria, she’s free to participate in all the theatre and musical activities she wishes to ( illyria itself embraces artistic elements of its culture far more than the ksarine colony ).

when she comes to earth to attend starfleet academy, she puts aside theatre, and she sings only in private or for very very close friends ( and, over time, she does so less and less in company ). both are interests she maintains, however, for all she keeps them to herself. she studies earth forms of theatre and music and goes out of her way to attend performances, then turns her attention to the performing arts of other cultures.

partly, she avoids participating in theatre because it feels like part of her she’s left behind, so core to the being of the child and young woman she left behind to become what she is and to attend starfleet. partly, it’s because she feels like she’s acting every day, avoiding expression of feelings, telling lies, and being the perfect starfleet officer.

while theatre’s far behind her, she still sings, but only when alone. if she knows you and trusts you and calls you a friend, she might ( might ) be persuaded to sing for you.

[oddsandendsandthings]

A List of Podcasts You’ve Probably Haven’t Heard

FYes there are a million podcast rec lists out there already but here’s a list of podcasts that you’ve probably never heard of that truly do not get the attention they deserve.

Compelled Dual:

A 2 play co-DM’d DnD podcast following Leoril and Phirora Valcyne as they each try to inherit the throne from their dick father. The DMs Al and Barry are master story tellers who’s unconventional system works seamlessly with the story. It is a story of political intrigue, mystery, adventure, and finding the true meaning of family. It is also packed to the teeth with LGBT+ characters and if you’re like me and crave quality shows with good representation this is the show for you. If you like The Adventure Zone or Critical Role you will love this show. It is currently in it’s final season of their first campaign and it updates every Friday.

Supernatural Sexuality with Dr. Seabrooke

This show is a relationship advice radio show set in a fictional world where mystical creatures and monsters exist. The characters may be monsters but their problems have real world connotations to them and very usable advice to take to heart. This show is also sex worker positive! And shows said sex workers in healthy relationships and the advice they receive isn’t about telling them to stop being a sex worker! Regardless of your current relationship status there is likely something here you will be able to relate too. This show currently has 12 episodes and is currently on an extended hiatus. Also the content of the show can obviously go into NSFW territory and so use discretion.

Love and Luck

An audio drama between two men living in Melbourne, Australia falling in love and finding they’ve developed magical powers to change the mood and luck of those around them. This show also has the unique aspect of being told completely through the voice messages they leave for each other. I’ll be real with you. If you’re one of those people that likes those coffee shop/flower shop/tattoo shop AU fanfics, you’ll love this show. This show is just a warm cup of coffee on a rainy day levels of soothing. It does tackle homophobia and transphobic behavior including topics such as parents kicking their children out and queer bashing so use caution but those episodes are always prefaced with content warnings so take care. Each episode is very short with the longest episode topping out at about 15 minutes so it is easy to binge through the 101 episodes. It is currently also on hiatus due to COVID so no new episodes are currently forthcoming yet.

Light Hearts

Follow the optimistic Janine as she does her best to run a café that is unfortunately haunted. You’ll see as she does her best to not only cater to the needs of her customers, but her paranormal roommates with the help of the colorful friends she makes along the way. This show is just light hearted fun at its finest and is tragically short with only 4 full episodes and a few minisodes and is also on a COVID based hiatus. Still worth the listen in my opinion though!

The Two Princes

Follow Prince Rupert as he struggles through an enchanted forest to find a way to save his kingdom from its viney grasp. He will find not all is not as it seams as he encounters another Prince by the name of Amir who seams to know more about the forests origins and what must be done save both their kingdoms. A show of adventure, romance, and mystery that can’t be missed. The show reached its series finale in 2020 but with 3 seasons worth of content it will have plenty to keep you entertained for a while.

Caravan

Follow Samir who accidentally falls into a mysterious canyon while on a camping trip with his best friend. The canyon is filled with demons, vampires, ghosts, and all other forms of monsters all fighting for control. Listen along as Samir must join with the humans who have come to call this crazy place home to help him find his way back to his. The best way to describe this is a western meets fantasy in the best way possible. I will say this show gets into NSFW territory and just about every character has no problem talking about how DTF they are for monsters and does have an instant of in scene sex so be aware.

Foundation After Midnight Radio

 This is a radio show set in the SCP universe that brings the news and announcements of all SCP facilities to all foundation personnel. It is very much Welcome to Nightvale meets SCP in the way. The announcer DJ Scip has a hilarious delivery and brings the fun to the SCP universe. If you like other SCP fan content like Containment series on Youtube you will love this show. It is the SCP universe though so horror and reality bending events are going to happen so if that is not your cup of tea skip it. 

The Mistholme Museum of Mystery Morbidity and Mortality

Listen to this helpful and friendly tour guide as it leads you through the strange and mysterious exhibits of this equally strange and mysterious museum. This show is like SCP if the SCP Foundation was actually good at their job of containing their subjects. The show balances its humor and horror perfectly and by the end you too will also want your own Guide. The show is currently ongoing with its fourth season so there is plenty of content!

The White Vault

Follow a repair team sent to Outpost Fristed in the middle of the wastes outside Svalbard. They quickly become snowed in by a terrible storm and come to find there are mysteries and horrors waiting for them beneath the ice. I’m gonna warn you now that this is a horror show that has no qualms killing characters so be forewarned if that’s not your thing. But if you are someone who likes a good horror story to keep you up at night then this is the show for you. The mystery will haunt you worse than the monsters and know that the show writers are not going to just give you any explanation of what or why things are happening the way they are. There is an eldritch horror to this that does not directly use any preexisting lore so you will likely leave with more questions than answers and  looming dread to both wanting to understand and knowing that the truth may be worse to know. The show is five seasons long with bonus content available for purchase on their website. While the bonus content does have some valuable pieces of world building lore and some character set ups they are not necessary  to enjoy the main story.

Spines

Wren wakes up suffering from memory loss, covered in blood, and surrounded in the remains of what looks to be some form of ritual. The only sources to he past are the fleeting names and faces of those who fled when she awoke. Follow her as she hunts them down to find out who she is, what happened to her, and how she can stop anyone from doing it again to anyone else. This show is a horror mystery that is engaging to follow and has a mystery that follows through with bringing more questions forward as old ones get answered. The horror does rely on a lot of body horror so use caution if that’s not your thing. But if you like a well written horror with ambiguous endings this is a good show to give a listen too.

[weaverlings]

music like white noise

A/N: hello i still Care Them very much

-

Hornet reached for the mug on the table, to soothe the tickle in her throat before it was too late. Before-

She coughed.

Once. Again.

Then she was wheezing, her breath torn and itself tearing her already-tender throat. Driven by the foul compulsion that such a tickle could become, she caught herself on the coffee table and snatched up the mug instead, drowning it all in gulps of tea.

This time, she kept the mug in her grip as she lowered herself back onto the extra cushions and pillows stacked behind her on the couch. She adjusted the blanket with her free claws, fought back the urge to sigh, and took a slower drink.

Lace leaned out of the kitchen, relying on the doorframe to achieve a dangerous angle. “Did you need more tea, sweet?”

“Mm.” Hornet tilted the mug and considered the remaining liquid. “If you could.”

“Of course.”

Lace twirled upright and spun to join Hornet in the living room. Hornet offered up the mug, and Lace leaned down to kiss Hornet’s forehead.

Lace frowned. She pressed a hand where she had kissed. “My, that’s quite a fever.”

“You say this like it’s some achievement.”

“Oh, yes. Not everyone could have such a fever, nor be so lovely even when laid low.”

Hornet snorted, which became a cough. She threw one arm out; Lace passed the tea back into Hornet’s claws. Hornet drained it. She’d averted the worst this time, at least.

“Oh, dear. Sorry, darling.” Lace kissed her again, the same as before, and reclaimed the mug.

“Give me but a moment.”

“Not your fault,” Hornet said to Lace’s back, and settled into her nest again. Unthinkingly, she closed her eyes, giving in however briefly to the not-quite-ache behind them: the sensation like rotted webbing, throbbing slowly.

She should have been in bed, but that would have had Lace back and forth all day at her own insistence, and Hornet’s restlessness would have driven her forth for her own tea at some point. Once, her self-reliance was an endless wellspring, painfully and necessarily so. Resisting this habit could still be its own battle.

So they had reached a compromise: this nest, the pillows and cushions and blankets. Lace had selected them and fluffed them up. Lace had brought Hornet food, and stayed with her in between these tasks.

Lace returned with the mug now, along with a plate and a damp cloth draped over one arm. She looked Hornet over – her dulled chitin, her sharp limbs burrowed or shrouded in fabric, absent their usual sense of constant, pre-spring tension. Hornet’s eyes opened; she watched as Lace set down the tea and the plate and took the cloth in both hands and leaned over her again. Those eyes were tired. Attentive, but tired. Hornet was tired, and it was bound to show through sometimes.

“Here, darling,” Lace said, plainly, tenderly. She draped the cloth between Hornet’s horns, where it might shift, but wouldn’t fall, even if she moved.

“Thank you.” Hornet did move, tugging the plate closer. Toast, topped with a careful amount of spicy pickled waterbug. In truth, she had little appetite, but she needed whatever food she could manage. And it had been thoughtfully prepared, with just enough of the soft spread to keep the toast from being unpalatable. She wouldn’t waste this.

She tucked up her legs as she ate. Lace sat down beside her and picked up a waiting book. Hornet set the plate back on the table and lay back. Lace said nothing, only resting a hand lightly on Hornet’s leg, over the blanket.

Hornet had no input to offer, and Lace’s theatrics were, if anything, born from an understanding of when not to speak. There was no weight in their silence, nothing wanting, nothing to fill.

Sleep would be best. Hornet closed her eyes.

But everything, everything grated – her breath down her throat, the fever under her shell, her head’s wavering between pressure and pain. Indeed, none of it was pain, precisely. She could manage pain, push through if needed. But this wasn’t pain, just sickness. Normal sickness. She didn’t need to push through, and in fact doing so would be detrimental to her recovery.

Sleep would be best. She had eaten, now she should sleep. She should sleep.

As if thinking about it ever helped. She grunted.

“Go ahead and turn on the radio, love,” Lace suggested.

Hornet rolled onto her side. “It won’t bother you?”

“Not at all.”

The device in the center of the coffee table was modern and graceful, all whorls in wood and shining metal. Lace reached forward to fiddle with the wires before pushing it closer to her wife and leaning back, satisfied.

Hornet twisted one bright knob. The next thing she did was lower the volume, and then she let the program sink in. An announcer’s soft voice, offering information about agricultural statistics. She flicked the dial.

A sporting match. This piqued her interest.

She lingered on it. Shots passed and caught, equipment wielded with precision and valor.

It reminded her of all the exercises she’d rather do herself.

Flick.

Two former nobles arguing about something, and ignoring a moderator who tried to bring reason.

Flick.

Instrumental music. Pleasant.

But it left her in the same restless daze that silence had.

Flick.

An audio drama. An angry former guard and a thief, something about a cursed mask.

Trials were performed for the entertainment of others, again rich people behaved poorly.

Though there was some comeuppance.

Hornet listened through to the inevitable betrayal at the end of the episode, in part because she wasn’t absorbing anything at all. She was subject to another coughing fit partway through, requiring more tea and a steadying backrub from her wife.

After that, she realized that this would require more focus than she had to appreciate, and that if she had that focus, she wouldn’t have enjoyed it much. It wasn’t to her taste.

Once again, her claws darted from under the blankets. Flick.

An opera. The singer’s voice was dimmed by the radio, but otherwise high and full in spite of the grainy speaker. Hornet listened long enough to determine that it was a comedy; the singer was dramatically lamenting a ribbon lost in a river as if it were a pet.

“You could do better,” Hornet observed.

Lace sang quietly, without looking up, “Just so, ma petite araignée, just so.”

Still, she left it on. It occupied enough of her attention to let the rest of her drift off. And it seemed that Lace was familiar with the piece, because here and there she sang along: sweetly finishing the lament of the ribbon, falling silent for the next section about a carriage ride, and joining in again for a song about cheesemaking.

Hornet thought it was about cheesemaking. She dozed, deeper and deeper, catching less frequent snatches of music. So perhaps the cheesemaking was a metaphor of some sort.

She couldn’t be sure.

-

Hornet sneezed, uncurled, and was halfway upright on one arm before Lace said, “Where do you think you’re going, darling?

Hornet looked over, and stared at her numbly. Her breath wheezed through her mouth. Finally, she said, “Wherever I please.”

And then she dropped back heavily onto the couch and pressed her face back into a pillow. The cloth rubbed into her shell. It should have been tepid, but it was refreshingly cool. She lifted her head enough to pluck at it, and found that it was a different color than before. Lace must have changed it while she slept. Hornet hadn’t stirred at all, so she supposed she’d needed the rest.

“How long?”

“Long enough for me to make soup.” Lace leaned forward and spun the lid off a thermos that had been waiting on the table. She passed it to Hornet. “About four hours.”

The soup went down almost easily. Her sore throat had been replaced by mere roughness, and the warmth and substance itself would have helped no matter what. She took a long drought, drawing in the salt and strength.

She set it back on the table with a determined plunk. “Much better. My thanks.”

“Good.” Lace sighed fondly. “It’s so boring when you’re not well enough to spar. No one else is half as fun.”

Hornet smiled, a wide twitch of her chelicerae. “Ah, and so you reveal your true purpose.”

Lace pressed a hand to her chest. “Wanting to spend time with my handsome wife, feeling her best?”

“Don’t frame it like that. You’ll make me feel guilty for teasing.”

“You always were soft-hearted,” Lace said, her lilt making it a compliment. She leaned in and stole a quick kiss between Hornet’s parted fangs.

“As you say. But enough,” Hornet croaked the declaration. She cleared her throat and coughed, but got her breath back alone. She took a drink of soup just because she wanted it. She sat up and shoved the pillows towards the back of the couch, and commanded, “Come here.”

“Very well.” Lace obliged, claiming the space Hornet indicated so that Hornet could lie in Lace’s lap. “Comfortable?”

“Finally.” Hornet slid her arm up to reach around Lace’s shoulder from the back. She pulled herself against Lace’s chest. “If you try to move me, you’ll see whether or not I’m truly able to spar.”

Lace hummed. “You are feeling better, aren’t you? Don’t worry. I’d not give up such a luxury as this.”

"Nor would I," Hornet agreed. She nestled into Lace's lap, and closed her eyes again.

Her entire life had become luxurious, it seemed. And there were no requirements to earn it; not suffering, duty, nor any performance. She could have them just by existing, which was well enough, if surreal.

But then there was this, too: here and now, the softness around her aching body, the food warm and ready, and – and, miraculously while yet the most natural thing in the world – her wife with her. None of it was lost, even while she was suffering. She didn’t have to earn them, but nor were they likely be taken away from her. This had been proven, time and again.

That, she supposed, was safety.

[hualianff]

ASMR/Streamer AU

Thinking about an AU with video-game streamer HC and ASMRist XL. Both have huge followings on Youtube and other social media; both never show their faces.

On his channel, MantouASMR, XL uses audio from everyday things like cutting fruit or typing at his computer. Other times, he plans out a general script to help his viewers sleep or motivate them for the day. XL writes and reads his own poetry, as well as sings on his channel too.

XL strives to be the most attentive and considerate content creator. He is constantly reading his viewers’ comments and taking up their suggestions for future videos. Anything to help his viewers get through their day or lift their mood.

(One time, XL read a comment from the parent of a child who was MantouASMR’s superfan. XL’s voice apparently helped their son sleep when he’s scared of the monster under his bed. In his next “Time to Sleep” video, XL iterated a short thank you message for the son and his parent for listening and watching his videos, and he hoped he could continue helping in the future.)

(Another time, XL read a comment from a student who said his voice helped her concentrate on her maths homework—though she mentioned she still doesn’t understand integrals and derivatives. The following day, XL uploaded an ASMR math lesson.)

XL’s voice is known to be very soothing, his whispers as airy and delicate as a spring breeze. His lower register is smooth like honey, and anyone who happens to hear his melodious laughs on a live stream instantly falls in love with his character.

On the other hand, HC’s voice is enticingly deep but has a deadly edge to it. He has no shortage of vulgar language, especially when it comes to playing with other streamers. When HC posts an occasional video that’s not video-game-related such as a rare Q&A, he’s somewhat more pleasant.

Of course, HC is incredibly grateful for his followers’ support. He just finds himself involved in too much internet bullshit even when he respectfully minds his own business. HC supposes that it comes with being China’s number one video game streamer—Crimson Rain Ghost King—watched by millions all around the globe. However, this doesn’t stop HC from being vocal about his opinions and expressing himself without giving a fuck what others thought.

Naturally, HC and XL are in completely separate circles on the Youtube platform. As far as their fans are concerned, a mellow ASMRist and a brash gamer don’t interact with each other...

Here’s the catch: Hualian are secretly married.

XL and HC have been together for over ten years now—married for just under three years. They felt no need to disclose their full relationship when HC began gaining popularity as a streamer, nor when XL’s channel tripled in size a few years later.

In his lives, XL often mentions his mysterious husband a lot. For the third anniversary of his channel, XL retells his wedding day. The picture for the video is of HC’s and his intertwined hands with a red string attaching their middle fingers.

HC was the first one to subscribe to XL’s channel (from a side account). He never fails to remind XL that “Gege has many gifts to share with the world.”

Out of nowhere, a trashy review journal bashes XL’s videos, calling them unoriginal and lowkey creepy because XL is “...a full-grown man whispering random shit that people love for some reason.” HC tries to keep XL from reading the article, but he’s too late. What’s worse is that other media sites speculate XL’s identity after, trying to expose him.

XL has experienced media backlash in the past. This event has him revisiting trauma where he nearly lost everyone in his life. He also went through severe depression and has developed major anxiety since then. One of the main reasons XL started his Youtube channel was because he wanted to be the person of comfort he wished he had had during those dark times.

Witnessing how affected XL is by the article and online hate, HC’s already-thin patience is close to snapping. That specific journal does nothing but writes drama-seeking shit about creators with a notable platform–HC included. Not that he gives a fuck about it.

Except they made XL their next target, and that is unacceptable. HC promptly makes a video grilling the hell out of the journal and the writer who published the article, making it very clear that, “Whoever reads and supports this bullshit are the scum of the Earth.”

HC uploads the video, then proceeds to make a XL-care-burrito. He feeds his husband, keeps him warm, and cuddles him all day. After dinner, XL feels renewed with energy, thoroughly enjoying his Saturday with his biggest, most devoted fan. XL decisively unwraps himself from the burrito and goes to make that sewing tutorial ASMR video he planned for the weekend.

HC’s viewers are once again curious as to if he has connections to XL. They begin digging up evidence but after the short investigation, it seems not to be the case.

Of the two instances XL couldn’t edit out him saying his husband’s name on live, no one seemed to agree on what the two muffled syllables were. XL never shows above his chest (he wears a facemask in case of a slip-up) or goes into too much detail with his stories. Both XL and HC’s other social media accounts are squeaky clean. Plus, you can count on one hand how many times HC has mentioned anything about his personal life.

Their fans stop their analysis, for the most part; XL’s viewers adamant about protecting his privacy and HC’s viewers not wanting to piss their idol off.

With Youtube being an important and time-consuming side of their life, XL and HC make sure to balance their personal, professional, and romantic lives as best as they can, or re-evaluate priorities when things begin to go downhill.

In addition to streaming, HC works as an animator for a respectable company. He has flexible work conditions and schedules.

HC during his stream debuting a new popular game: “I helped make this game, of course I know what I’m doing.” XL watches from the side wearing an adoring and proud smile.

XL is an open and free-spirited soul, so he switches side jobs often such as a barista, salesman, model, etc.

HC’s other hobbies include photography, music, traditional art, and bowling. (He has impeccable aim for obvious reasons.) XL enjoys seeing his friends (SQX, MUA; MQ, lawyer; FX, lawyer), cooking, reading, and skateboarding.

Extras:

-HC often streams with XL in his lap.

-Hualian create NSFW ASMR for themselves.

-(HC in their bed, listening to one of XL’s ASMR videos...

XL, smiling like a minx and slipping into bed shirtless: “Why watch my video when you have the real thing right here?”)

-Someone edits a comedic video with XL and HC’s voices, comparing their styles and approaches to speech. It garners lots of attention for their respective channels, the hashtag #mantouxcrimson ??? trending for a few days.

Video title: You’re friends with both Mantou Gege and Crimson Rain

(In the video)

Situation 1: You haven’t started your homework and it’s already midnight.

XL’s voice: “Whatever you do, don’t put too much pressure on yourself. You can’t do things well if your mind is unwell. Try to finish the things that need to be done, but be kind to yourself~~”

HC’s voice: “You little fucker, what have you been doing this whole time!? If you don’t do your job in the next five seconds, I’ll make sure to bury your worthless dead body where no one can find you-“

(Brainchild with @no-one-says-hi)

[ooops-i-arted]

Din's morning routine: finding Yoditos in various inconvenient places while trying to get ready in AM. OR view frim inside of 'fresher door - dozens of tiny hands and "Dads?!" Happiest if Birthdays to you!

Thank you! Please enjoy this outline of Din's morning. And this was also inspired by your request.

-

3:38 AM

Din rolled over to check the chrono, or at least as much as he could with a snoring juvenile varactyl using half of him as a pillow. Twenty-two minutes still until his alarm went off. He lay back down and closed his eyes, hoping for a little bit more sleep.

3:57 AM

A wail started growing louder and Din’s dream of searching for his children in the ruins of Aq Vetina melted away as he sat up, struggling out from underneath Boga Jr. He knew that sound. The babies were awake early this morning.

Quickly he stumbled into the children’s room, finding that fortunately only Yod’ika 99 and Yod’ika 94 had woken each other up in the crib. He scooped them up and held them to his collarbone with one hand, humming softly and soothing them with the vibrations in his throat while he used his free hand to fix a bottle of formula for each of them and set it in the rack Kuiil had constructed to suspend over a matching line of customized infant seats, each labeled with the number of Yod’ika it was sized for. Once his two little ones were sufficiently soothed he set them in their seats and tilted the bottles into their reach, allowing them to drink while he started preparing another batch of breakfast for the others still asleep.

The infants were still being bottle-fed, so he fixed up those first and set them in the racks so they were ready for their recipients. Next were the older kids; the three jars of minced salamander had the closest expiration date so he set up bowls of those and stacked them in the fridge for when the older children woke up. A few servings he put through the food processor and mashed first, for the youngest toddlers who still had difficulty chewing as much.

4:25 AM

IG-11 always entered quietly enough not to wake the children but still with some familiar mechanical whirring of gears. He always claimed Kuiil had forgotten to oil them again, but Din had overheard Cara telling IG-11 not to be so quiet to not startle Din a few weeks ago. Din wasn’t quite to the point where he could thank IG-11 for the effort but he did appreciate it in silence.

“You’re early,” Din commented.

“My morning optimizing subroutines finished early,” the droid said in its flat voice. “I have been running some in the evening as well before shutting down, to be as efficient as possible.”

“These two are awake and fed,” Din said, removing the bottles from the racks and scooping up two of his smallest sons.

“I will engage tummy time routines.”

Din set the two in IG-11’s clawlike hands. “Try and stay quiet.”

IG-11 took the babies. Din could already hear a few more starting to stir, but let IG-11 handle them as he returned to his room. He hadn’t found time to shower yesterday so he definitely had to this morning.

Boga Jr. was awake and already rearranged the bedding into a bigger mess, looking proud of her efforts to reconstruct her “nest” as she usually did. Din scratched her head feathers before pulling out his jumpsuit and fresh underwear - dank ferrik, was he due for another load of laundry already? - and heading for the ’fresher.

4:45

He’d taken care of his bladder and brushed his teeth and was halfway into the shower when a bright voice said “Good morning, Buir!”

Din stared. “Yod’ika 18, what are you doing in the sink?”

“I’m cleaning myself,” said the little one as Din glanced at the definitely-locked door.

“Why?”

Yod’ika 18 looked down guiltily. “I had an accident…”

Din got a towel around his waist before going over to check on Yod’ika 18. “Yeah, looks like you did… you know you can get up in the night to go potty, right?”

Yod’ika 18 frowned and looked down. “It’s just so dark at night…”

“We’ll see about getting a night light in there, okay?” Din helped him out of the dirty clothes and threw them in the hamper before pulling out another tunic that passed the sniff test. “Wear this for a little bit and we’ll get you properly dressed after breakfast.”

“No!” said Yod’ika 18, shying away. “It’s stinky, Buir!”

Din sighed, but he was awake enough by now to remember what a neat freak Yod’ika 18 was. “Okay, okay, come here.”

Din scooped the little one up, making sure his towel stayed secure as he went to the closet and pulled out the first outfit he found. “Here you go.”

“It’s not my favorite color…”

“Yod’ika 18,” Din said sternly, and finally Yod’ika 18 submitted to being dressed in the yellow tunic. “Go see IG-11 and he can get you breakfast,” Din said, shooing the little one along.

“But I want to eat with you, Buir.”

“Then wait a little bit and I’ll join you when I get out of the shower.”

The pattering of oversized gangly varactyl feet was his only warning. Boga Jr. loved snatching up clothes and flinging them around and he just managed to get the closet door shut in time to remember that what she really loved was snatching things directly from him, and he only had one article of “clothing” on him right now.

Din barely grabbed the towel in time. “BOGA JR, NO!”

She tugged playfully on it with all her juvenile varactyl strength, encouraged by Yod’ika 18’s giggles. “Stop it!” Din ordered, barring her from getting closer with his leg; he needed both hands to keep his towel. “Sit, girl!” he said desperately, and luckily she followed the command, her tail thrashing proudly.

“Go tell IG-11 that Boga Jr. needs to be fed,” Din told Yod’ika 18.

He hurried off to perform the special chore, loudly saying, “Of course, Buir, I will help you!”

Boga Jr., knowing food was imminent, hurried after Yod’ika 18. But now Din could hear more stirring, more pattering feet and perking ears and chattering little voices.

He barely made it to the bathroom in time. As soon as he shut and locked the door there were already scratching noises and bustling little bodies and loud little voices. “Good morning Daddy!” “Papa I want to come in.” “Stop pushing me!” “Daddyyyyyyyyyy-” “Come eat breakfast with us Buir!” “Dada, food, I hungwy…”

The doorknob started moving all by itself. Din grabbed it and held fast. “Anyone who opens this door with the Force doesn’t get frogs for a week!” he yelled in desperation.

Suddenly the door stopped vibrating slightly and it was quiet on the other side.

“Go and tell IG-11 you’re awake,” Din said. “I’ll be out soon and I’ll eat with you.”

He listened for acknowledgment and to make sure the horde retreated before finally, finally getting into the shower. Just in time to find out IG-11 had used all the hot water on food prep and dishes.

5:10 AM

Din toweled his hair dry just enough to not make the inside of his helmet gross before leaving the bathroom and going to his bedroom to put it on. He didn’t bother with the rest of the armor yet, but even though IG-11 was the only person - thing, droid, whatever - there not a family member, he still didn’t like breaking the spirit of the Creed’s helmet rule anyway. And there was no telling whenever anyone else might come by.

He knew food had to be out and served since no one was swarming him, and he passed through the kids’ room to see how many were still asleep. Not many - once they were up, the horde usually swarmed like flies on a ronto.

“Dad?” asked a sleepy voice just as Din was about to step out, and he turned to see his eldest sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Good morning, Yod’ika,” Din said. “You still sleepy or ready for breakfast?”

Yod’ika held out his arms in a plea to be held. “Breakfast.”

Din scooped him up obligingly; every child in his care needed individualized attention but Yod’ika was always extra hungry for it. He snuggled up under Din’s chin and Din smiled, rocking him a little. “Did you sleep well last night?”

“Yeah,” he said. “No bad dreams.”

“Good,” said Din, and he made sure the few remaining Yod’ike were fast asleep before carrying Yod’ika into the kitchen.

Most of the awake Yod’ike were sitting at the table but several were still crawling and toddling on the floor, too restless to eat yet or already finished, and the babies still in their feeding chairs were starting to cry. Din hurried over to get them out first, his helmet’s audio feed automatically adjusting to the volume.

“Buir, come eat with us!”

“Hold on, let me get the babies first,” he said without looking at who had called for him. He felt a stubborn, otherworldly pull on his hands. “No!” he told the babies firmly, and the sensation stopped. Din was glad they were responding better; the last thing he needed was an infant unexpectedly yanking him around. Carefully he extracted the infants from their feeding seats and passed them over into IG-11’s supervision, watching the droid as he carefully put them in the playpen he’d set up for them. Only the very youngest ones could still be counted on to stay where you put them, and Din knew he wasn’t going to have that luxury much longer. Even little Ika’ika was already squirming in protest in the playpen, rolling over repeatedly to try and make himself move.

More Yod’ike toddled in, calling for him, so Din told them good morning and started heating and setting out more bowls of minced salamander.

“I want frog,” whined Yod’ika 27.

“We’re eating the salamander today,” Din said. “We’ll have frog another day.”

“Can we go frog hunting today, Baba?” asked Yod’ika 14, quickly echoed by several of his brothers. “It’s been ages since we got to!” insisted Yod’ika 18.

Din knew “ages” meant “a week” but it was one of the clan’s favorite activities. “I need to look at the schedule and see if there’s a pond that’s been rotated long enough. If we go too soon, there won’t be enough frogs -”

“For us and for the animals,” chimed in multiple Yod’ike.

“Exactly,” said Din. Proudly, “Good job remembering.”

“We hafta take care of the en-vi-en-met,” added Yod’ika 33.

“You’re right,” Din said, finally getting his own bowl of human protein-fortified cereal and sitting down at the table, setting his helmet in his lap where it was safest from sticky hands.

“Can I try some, Buir?” asked Yod’ika 6, reaching out.

“No,” Din said, waving his spoon at his son’s hands. “Eat your own.”

6:00 AM

Everyone was awake - it was rare any of the Yod’ike slept through the din of their brothers - and everyone was fed, so now it was time to get ready for the day.

“You all know the drill,” Din told them. “Old clothes in the laundry, use the potty, IG-11 set out new clothes for you, and then brush your teeth.”

They all chattered agreeably and then the storm of pajamas flying through the air began. At this point Din was used to the commotion, so he pulled off the shirt that landed in his face off and went over to start changing the babies one by one, occasionally pausing to remind the others no laundry fights but otherwise going as fast as he could before -

“Buir, I need help,” said Yod’ika 44’s little voice at his ankle.

“Ask one of your brothers,” Din said, barely remembering to say it instead of automatically helping his son. “Right now I’m changing the babies.”

“But I want you to do it, Buir.”

“Then you need to wait.”

Sometimes it worked, but more often than not Din had a cluster of Yod’ike seeking help (and attention) sitting at his feet. Today Yod’ika 44 sat right on his foot, clutching his new outfit and underwear.

Din felt something wet on his foot and his stomach turned. “Did you wipe?”

“Oops!” Yod’ika 44 ran back to the bathroom.

Din didn’t look down. He just quickly grabbed a wipe and cleaned his foot very thoroughly before anyone else came over.

By the time he was working on Ika’ika - a delicate task, changing the smallest diaper in the galaxy and stuffing the squirming infant into the smallest custom mudhorn-patterned onesie Cara had brought back from her last trip into the Core - a whole cluster of children were at his feet, arguing who was first for help and shouting at Yod’ika for trying to force them to accept his help, Yod’ika the loudest as he yelled back that he was the oldest and his help was just as good as Dad’s.

Din knew if he let go of Ika’ika, even for a second, all his hard work making the wiggly baby get dressed would be undone, so he ignored the fuss until finally he could hand Ika’ika over to IG-11, who deposited him back into the playpen with his littlest brothers. “Okay,” Din said. “Who needs help?”

With at least thirty kids clamoring “Me! Me! Me!” it was impossible to tell who had really been first. Din had found the most success by making it into a game and randomizing it, so he said everyone with a blue outfit had to go see IG-11, everyone with a mythosaur on their clothes had to go ask Yod’ika for assistance, and anyone with a mudhorn should wait for him. They were used to the game so there wasn’t a lot of protest, and now Din had only five children waiting. He pulled on shirts and shorts, gently folded ears through a hat, and tucked Yod’ika 29’s malformed feet into their supportive shoes.

“Are we all ready?” Din asked his brood, all eagerly staring up at him.

“You’re not ready, Dad,” pointed out Yod’ika, and the others all nodded in agreement.

Din looked down. The flightsuit was on, and already stained by food and slobber from when he’d helped his sons eat and from when Boga Jr. had rested her head in his lap, trying to steal scraps. He suppressed a sigh. “No, I guess I’m not.”

7:02 AM

His armor was on, even polished a bit thanks to Yod’ika 3 sneaking into his room for some quiet time in Din’s room. (“But I was being an Armorer,” he’d said so sweetly, and he’d used the right polish, so he got out of any consequences.) He’d remade the bed so it wasn’t currently a varactyl’s nest. The kids were all awake, fed, and dressed, and ready to take on the day. And now, so was he.

“Dad, come on, let’s play!”

“I’m coming.” Din put his helmet on, and stepped outside, ready for anything the galaxy had to throw at him today.

[everyotherworm]

Arena wizard neurodivergence headcanons •w•

Only did a couple of characters, but I'll put it under the cut since it's a bit long!

Nick: autism

His special interest is winterfest! He knows all about it and he involves it in absolutely EVERYTHING. He doesn't quite understand social cues, and his constant upbeat tone isn't always welcome. He always means well though!

He stims with a lot of his winterfest stuff, like fidgeting with and shaking jingle bells, running his hand up and down tinsel, tugging on his fluffy winterfest hat or sweater, tapping ornaments, etc. He's very sensory seeking, he loves bright flashing holiday lights, blasting festive music as loud as possible, and feeling spiky pine trees on the shiverchill mountains.

Ziang: sensory processing disorder

He deals with hypersensitivity, he struggles with loud noises (which is why he pulls his hat over his ears when bannard is around), but he can struggle with a lack of audio input as well and is very comforted by the dragon songs he hears, as it serves as a form of white noise. He can struggle with food due to the texture or taste and had a pretty specific set of food he sticks with.

Many clothing textures upset him, but scale armor has always been comfortable to him. He can't handle a lot of physical attention like hugs, and is often taken as rude for his denial of cuddles. He struggles with hair care thanks to his sensitivity, and the hair under his hat is often a mess!

Bannard: adhd

Poor volume control! Short attention span! Difficulty understanding tasks at the academy and ends up completing them Too Much because they weren't explained thoroughly enough! Often seen as strange or annoying by others!

He can struggle with rejection sensitive dysphoria, which is made worse by his general inability to figure out what people are saying when they talk about him or give him feedback thanks to his difficulty hearing :(

it often makes him feel even more annoying to ask people to repeat things, so he kind of just tries his best to figure out what people said to him, but this can sometimes lead to him mussing up things said to him in his memory, often worrying he actually misheard compliments or innocuous comments, and that they might have been saying something totally different.

Djinna: social anxiety

Just your normal run of the mill social anxiety, lots of difficulty around other people. She leans very hard into avoidance and escape from social interaction, often just wanting to dissappear. Her fellow students still make room for her though, even when she dissappear for days at a time.

She can sometimes get nauseous and shaky when around a lot of others, so she tends to only show up when there's only 1 or 2 people to be around- still nerve wrecking, but she tries. I imagine she likes to self soothe to help keep calm around people, so she has a soft little fathom plushie to squeeze and pet, and probably some chew necklaces in the shapes of ghosts

[daemoninwhiteround2]

Well okay I'll probably not be the only one to ask you what happens next in the siren!Tim au! Is dick also a siren or something else??? This is super interesting and I need to see how it turns out pleasee!!!

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen: Thx u soooooooooooooo much for that update with Dick also being a siren! I swear you’re spoiling us? Ignore me if it’s too much but will Tim and Dick fight over Jason or will they end up teaming up? Either way Jason is going to be completely wrecked by the end of this, whatever happens. Thx u again for all you post btw

They sit down to watch episodes of some show Jason likes. Tim’s not paying any attention, hyper aware of every movement Dick makes. He stares blindly ahead, running through Dick’s features and trying to match them to every creature he knows of. He can’t be another siren - Tim would be able to tell, and besides, his mother had made it very clear that Gotham was her hunting grounds, even if she didn’t care to spend too much time there. He could potentially be some breed of vampire, but a careful, subtle sniff confirms that there’s no smell of un-death.

Truthfully, there’s too many variables, too many potential species. Tim needs more information. He needs to know what Dick is, needs to know if Dick knows what he is.

Needs to know what Dick wants with Tim’s chosen prey.

After the third episode, Jason pauses the autoplay and stands. He stretches and Tim can’t stop his eyes from flicking over the expanse of sink revealed when Jason’s shirt rides up. He does manage to turn his scowl into a mildly interested expression (if it wasn’t for Dick, he could have his mouth all over that, he thinks petulantly).

“I’m just gonna go for a sec.” Jason locks eyes with Tim and darts a glance at Dick, going slow enough that Tim knows it’s deliberate. “Do you want me to show you around or?”

Awww, Jason doesn’t want to make Tim uncomfortable by leaving him with a stranger. How cute.

“I’m fine here,” he soothes, and gathers a sliver of his power into his voice, “Take your time.”

Jason’s still looking directly at him so Tim has the distinct pleasure of watching his eyes glaze over. “Sure,” he murmurs and leaves the room.

Tim turns to Dick. He’s unable to stop himself from tensing, but by silent agreement, they wait until Jason’s footsteps fade away.

Mother has always taught Tim to be the one to wait for his opponent to speak, but the compulsion he laid on Jason was mild enough that he’ll only linger through his ablutions, they don’t have that much time.

So he goes on the offensive. No one beats a siren when it comes to audio, anyway. “What do you want?”

Dick laughs. “Shouldn’t that be my line> The way you were looking at my little wing when I walked in-” something flashes in his eyes and his voice deepens “-anyone would think you wanted to eat him.”

“I don’t intend to harm Jason permanently,” Tim says carefully. He intends to have Jason weeping underneath him, intends to break Jason until he will willingly give himself over to Tim - none of that will harm him.

Dick smirks, revealing some sharp teeth. “Little wing’s virginity belongs to me. You can have him after that.”

[huearmy]

The Smell of Truth - IV

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 4781

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Some violent nightmares, nothing too bad.

Chapter I  Chapter II  Chapter III - Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII

Jungkook was ready to fight.

After eating cake and tons of meat, taste coke for the first time and fall in love with it, you showed him another thing to love about his new life. Something exciting, entertaining and beautiful... He wasn't good at it at first, but seeing you doing it so well just motivated him to do better. Video games of course. All the sounds and colors made his eyes sparkle. The characters were so amazing too. You let him choose what game he wanted to try first, without much reference he didn't know where to start, using as a criterion the cover that most caught his attention and the little you said about each one. In the end he tested so many games that the order wasn't even important. 

You noticed that he avoided violent themes, like fight games, and he preferred the sports, adventure, or cute-looking ones. You came to that conclusion when you decided to show one of your favorites, Dead By Daylight, and before you could start a match he wanted to change to Plant vs. Zombie. At some point you both stopped by Mario Kart and that was the thing. One hour later Jungkook was better than you, throwing all the bananas on you, like losing wasn't an option to him. The bastard is competitive.

"AAaaaaah! nonononon noooooo!" You lose the control of your kart just before finish line as he passes you, crossing the line and winning for the sixth time in a row.

"Yeah!" He jumped from his spot on the floor, running circles arond the couch and you, who was also on the floor.

"That's not fair, half of an hour ago you didn't even know how the controls work..."

"Let's play again!" He seated beside you again, and then his ears perked up. "Can I eat more cake?"

He already ate almost half of the cake, and was clearly in a sugar rush. "Of course. The cake is yours."

With a happy squick he ran to the kitchen, sliding the new pair of white socks over the apartment's wooden floor. As you waited for hi to come back you once again searched your games, looking for any more he might like, and came to the conclusion that you have a very violent taste to games - you are a fervent Outlast fan, for example. You have never dealt with a hybrid so full of trauma so directly, let alone inside your home, so involved in your life, and despite having some sense of Jungkook's past, you don't know everything that torments him or how much, so making him one hundred percent comfortable in this new life is your plan. What you need is to pay more attention to the small details. And maybe you can start by letting him choose some lighter games himself in the online store.

Jungkook emerged from the kitchen, now walking slower, balancing two plates of cake in one hand, and a huge glass of coke, full to the top, in the other, taking care not to make a mess. Carefully he sat next to you again.

"I brought cake for you too." He gave you one plate and got ready for another round.

"Oh, that's sweet of you. Thanks." You played for another hour or so, Jungkook's victories proving that it was not beginner's luck but that he is indeed a fast learner. You were already more asleep than awake, as a result of bad nights and unregulated sleep in the last week, when he got tired of running and decided to change the game. "What is this about?" Jungkook asked, showing you another one. "Ah, is a remake of one of my childhood favorites. It's about a bandicoot who lives on an island in the south pacific, and a magic mask that flies around him, and has a big-headed villain. It's pretty fun." You yawned. "Let's play this one then." He excitedly stated. "Sorry, Jungkook. I'm really tired, and even if I'll work from home, I need to get up early tomorow... I'm going to bed now." You saw the disappointment in his eyes, his ears and tail falling, and added. "But you can keep playing without me." Jungkook looked around, clearly not so happy as before. "Ok. I will play another one that is not your favorite then. See you tomorrow?" He was pouting again, and you thought to yourself if you're going to be able to get used to it. Despite being upset, you could see that he didn't want to have a tantrum asking you to stay. "You are so cute." You said before you could stop yourself, pulling him by the hands for a hug. You rested you head on his chest and reasurely passed your hands on his back. You couldn't see right now, but the brightest smile settled in Jungkook's face. "See you in the morning. Sleep well, JK." "Sleep well, Y/N." _____________________________________________________________________________________ You took a fast shower, put yourself in comfy pijamas and dropped your tired body in the bed. In less than five minutes you were fast asleep. You are the type that has a heavy sleep, that doesn't wake up with anything, and if it happens it is not fully awake, easily coming back into slumber. Normally a lightning storm would not be enough to get you out of dreamland, quite the opposite, the thick rain hitting the window glass has always been like a lullaby. But for some reason, by two in the morning your sleep-pumping eyes were open and alert. Something was off.

You sit, checking your surroundings, listening. Everything seemed ordinary. You got up, looking for your phone, trying to remember where you left it last. You found it lying on the floor beside the bed, between your slippers, some social media notifications and messages that you didn't see before stamping the screen.

Opening one of the messages, a smile formed at the corners of your mouth, as you rubbed your swollen eyes. Still half asleep you played the audio massage, a male voice sounding low. "Hey sweetheart, I'm coming back already. If my flight doesn't delay, I'll be home in the late afternoon... Then I will see you before anything else ok! I'm missing you so fucking much it feels like dying... So..." Before you could finish hearing the message something else caught your attention. You were silent trying to hear again. A soft sound from the floor below. A cry. It brought you from the brink of slumber, zombie mode of yours, to full alert awake mode.

"Jungkook" You went to the door and, knowing the way even in the dark, did not even bother to turn on the lights in the corridor, or the stairs, to run to the hybrid who now lives with you. The closer you got, the more certain you were that the crying came from Jungkook's room, a tightness in your chest leaving you worried at every step without knowing what was happening.

You entered as quietly as you could, stepping inside on the tip of your feet, the room was lighter than the corridor you came from, because of the headlamp on. Jungkook was lying in the shape of a ball, his back to you, wearing silk pajamas that you bought him earlier, the cover lying on the floor indicating he was having restless sleep. He was crying, but still asleep, clutching the pillow as hard as if his life depended on it, his body shivering, from cold or stress, or both, you couldn't say. Regardless, the nightmare he was having must have been horrible. Sitting next to him on the bed next to him, you put your hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

"Jungkook, wake up." As if your touch had burned him, Jungkook's eyes snapped open, his body reacting defensively before you could do anything. In a second his hand was around your wrist, holding tightly at a sore angle, making you gasp in pain. For a moment it seemed that even looking directly at you, he didn't recognize you.

"Jungkook, it's me. Y/N. You were having a nightmare, but is everything ok. You are ok." You softly said, ignoring the pain in your wrist he was still holding, and reaching your other hand to his face, brushing the hair away from his sweaty forehead. "You are ok, Jungkook." "Y/N..." His lips quivered, small voice barelly reached your ears. Jungkook is a pile of muscles, much taller than you, bigger in every way, but at that moment, with scared eyes full of tears... you never thought he was so small. "It's, ok." You whispered, afraid that if you spoke a little louder it might scare him. "I don't know where you were, or what was happening... But now you are home, safe."   

He blinked a couple times, looking around, recognizing his own new room, his things, the smell of the surroundings. His tense, ready to fight body, relaxed as his breathing was soothing. He finally noticed his tight hold hurting you, released you and more quickly he sat against the headboard, moving away from you and your touch. The boy's pale face acquired a feeling beyond fear... guilt.

"So- sorry..." He weakly apologized.

It is not the first time he has had this nightmare. It is always the same, sometimes with small differences, but in short it is a ring, metal screens closing all sides and the ceiling, with electric barriers and poles, that if he tries to escape or fall out by accident the injuries will be terrible, that if he doesn’t die by it. There’s a white light on him, as if it were a show and he was the star, but it’s a show of horrors, the fans screaming loudly, from the dark, asking for blood, dozens of men without face wanting someone to die in front of them. Jungkook experienced this so many times in real life, that in a dream it shouldn't be so scary, but here comes the worst part... He's losing, this time he's the one going to die today. While the other guy is sitting on top of him, giving blow after blow he can't defend himself, he looks back, looking for his owner. Jungkook's owner is sitting in a deck chair in the middle of the audience, watching the fight with his eyes without emotion, he is not happy, and Jungkook knows why: he has not been a good boy, he is no longer valuable, and doesn't bring tons of money anymore... So the owner won't help him, he won't find a way to stop the fight to save Jungkook, because it's not worth it. When Jungkook looks up again and faces his opponent it is his own face what he sees, like a mirror, violent and empty... He sees himself as the scariest hybrid in the world.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... Y/N I'm sorry." He started to sob, bringing his knees close to his chest, turning into a ball again, to look smaller and not threatening.

Carefully you risked approaching him again, placing your hand on his knee in an attempt to make some comforting contact, without being too invasive.

"Shhhh... No need to apologize now." Seeing that he didn't withdraw from you again, you finally took his face in your cold little hands. "How are you feeling?"

"What?" A tear ran down his cheekbone, wetting your hand.

"I want to know if you are ok, JK." You smiled softly. He hurting you it's not ok, even if by accident, but that's a subject for another moment, now the focus is on him only. He sighed, closing his eyes and letting himself relax at your touch, feeling the soft tips of your fingers drying his tears. He took a deep breath once, twice, three times before nodding.

"I'm. I just need to go to bathroom."

"Ok." You let him get up, his well-built body looking so fragile as he walked out of the room, disappearing into the dark corridor. You got up yourself, to fix the bedding, get it ready for when he returned.

Jungkook washed his face several times, trying to get the bad impression he could still see when looking in the mirror. "When you're scared, laugh in the face of fear, he won't take you seriously and then he'll leave you alone." The child's voice rang in Jungkook's mind, making him give a weak little smile when he thought that this silly psychology has kept his sanity for years. He wiped his face with a soft towel, and then looking at himself in the mirror he made a funny face. And then another ... And one more. One funny face after another until he feels like smiling for real.

Your happy bathroom, with a nice scent of soap and cute plants, also helped a lot. The urge to cry went away much easier than at any time in Jungkook's old life.

Not really in the mood of trying to sleep again, he dragged himself back to the room, feeling the weight of the world on his legs, considering returning to playing video games and staying up all night... He saw you still on his bed, waiting for him, and stopped by the door, surprised.

"You still here..." You were zoning out, due to his delay in returning. His voice - now more peaceful - put a smile of relief in your distracted face.

"Do you want me to stay with you till you fall asleep again?" You suggested. Jungkook felt something in his chest, almost like a heartache, warm, when he heard that question.

"You don't need to..." He spoke before he could stop himself, regretting immediately, because it wasn't what he wanted to answer.

You left a warm laugh scape your lips.

"That's not what I asked, JK. Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes." You caring for him like this is like a dream to him, so, afraid of making a mistake that would make this moment end, he camly walked to you, lying on the spot you were invitingly tapping beside you, almost with his head on your lap. Almost... You covered him, taking care to wrap every inch of him with the blanket, to keep him warm, as you would do to a child, or at least, how you like to sleep when it's cold, like a comfy burrito. He felt loved. A few minutes went by, you patiently petting his hair. When you thought he would have fallen asleep, Jungkook opened his eyes to look at you thoughtfully.

"Y/N..." His voice was already sleepy.

"Hum?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?" It's not like you're not expecting such conversation to happen sometime in the future, but at that moment the question took you by surprise.

"What do you mean, Jungkook?"

Jungkook had a hard time finding the right words. He didn't expect you to respond with another question, he wanted you to answer more objectively. A line of frustration formed between the boy's eyebrows as he thought hard on it. You just kept petting him, waiting for him to elaborate his thoughts. "I don't... know. Everybody does... I'm a pitbull and I was a fight dog... I've done so many bad and scary things, so everybody is afraid of me. The people that didn't want to adopt me, the employees of the shelter who beat me, even the doctor who saw me... She was so sweet to me, but she always saw me with a security guard in the room. Even my former owner was always armed when he came to talk to me..." He was frustrated and agitated when speaking. "He always told me that being a fighter is the only thing I good at... That I'm good at being violent. So why aren't you afraid?"

He could sense you getting dark feelings as he spoke. You were pissed, just thinking about what they did to his head made you want to punch someone. Making Jungkook think he deserves to be feared instead of being loved, pampered and adored every day of his life is unforgivable.

"First of all... Get ready because I'm going to give a speech here. Second: it is a protocol, standard procedure, to have support staff when treating new hybrids, especially when they have a history of abuse. It's not because the doctor was afraid of you, it's because she wanted to take good care of you." You paused for a breath, taking care not to be too harsh when speaking and it looked like you were scolding him, which was nowhere near your intention. You sighed and pulled a lock of hair out of his eyes. "Jungkook, you can't believe in any word your former owner told you. If he was always armed when he came to talk to you, it wasn't because he was afraid of you, it was because he wanted you to be afraid of him. He is very bad person. And he's in jail for all the evil he's done, for you and many other people ... And he's a liar. Nothing he has ever said or done to you can define your future or who you are. Can you believe me?"

"Yes." He said with a soft and vulnerable voice.   

He was crying again, with a little smile forming in the corner of his mouth, but still crying. And your heart can't take it.

"And the reason I'm not afraid of you...?" You raised an eyebrow and looked deep into his eyes, as if you were going to tell an incredible secret. "I recognize a cinnamonroll when I see one."   

At this, one laugh left Jungkook mouth, and you couln't think he is any cuter. "Seriously... Look at this doe eyes and sweet smile! You are a cutie pie, JK! The most precious one..." He let you squish his check with a blush taking over his whole face, but then he noticed the bruise forming in your wrist and his smile fell.

"But I did hurt you." He sadly took your hand in his. "Yes, but it can be fixed. It will heal, and it can heal even faster if I treat it right. And you can never do that again." You said logically. "How?" You pointed your index finger to the middle of Jungkook's forehead, and then to the middle of his chest.

"Healing yourself too. I know you're messed up, and that's ok. I'm here to help. We can start with therapy, you know..." Jungkook didn't like the idea of therapy at all, but for now he won't discuss it. You were probably right. "Ok." He said, snuggling closer to your leg. A very loud thunder burst outside, coming very close to the lightning, startling Jungkook, who reflexively grabbed the hem of your cotton shorts. You didn't refrain yourself from hugging him with your whole body, planting a heavy kiss on his cheek.

"Saw what i mean? You are too precious."

With his heat beating frantically he answered in a timid way.

"I don't like loud sounds... That's all."

"Is just loud, it can't hurt you." You said looking into his eyes, your nose almost touching his nose. "As long I'm here no one can hurt you." And there it is again. The smell of truth. The idea of someone as small as you protecting Jungkook from anything or anyone may seem absurd, but for no second he doubt your words, because each one of it smell like sincerity. Your eyes too, so intense as you said it, that made him want to protect you too.

"And what if you are not around when I need you?" He tested playfully. "Then you scream my name as loud as you can and I'll be there in no time!"

"Seriously?"

You seated straight, handson your hips.  

"Of course! I was on the athletics team at college. I'm super fast!" He was laughing, your work was done. "Sorry I woke you up... And thank you for saving me." Jungkook said it with so much affection it made you heart skip a beat.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I woke up to the thunder." You simply said, but he knew this one was a lie. _________________________________________________________________________ After the incredible conversation he had with you in the middle of the night, and the rest of the night well slept, Jungkook started the day very willing and happy. He could barely walk, instead it was as if his legs were jumping around the apartment by itselves. You were up hours before him, but waited to eat breakfast with him - you already had a liter of coffee by yourself anyway. Despite not being what you like to do with your life, and and having another job - running a chain of stores for your family - you have been working as a lawyer for a member office for a few months. Even working from home, you have soooo much paperwork to fill out and study, reports with deadline to deliver, to be a suuuuuper efficient employee. So after you finished eating your cereal bowl, you left Jungkook to play video games alone and locked yourself in your personal upstairs office to work.

He can hear you walking around as you talk on the phone, your voice sounding serious and professional. He was having fun by himself, such a good time with snaks and left over cake, but at the same time he was struggling on not gonna check you out. You strictly asked him to not interrupt you till lunch time. Jungkook spent an hour in this internal fight to go or not to see if you didn't need something or want a glass of juice, to maybe get scratch behind his ear and a smile from you as reward. Like... You were just upstairs and he miss you too much. He was so focused on the game and his own thoughts that he didn't even notice his steps down the stairs and into the living room.

"Jungkook. I need to sign some papers in the office. If anything I'm downstairs."

"Ok." Then you left the apartment. You were too serious. Too cold. Too focused on serious and adult things. A world-sized pout formed in Jungkook's cute face. It is only the third day with you in his life, but he already feels very used to it - your presence of light and warm hugs was able to erase all the years of loneliness that in which he learned to be alone and be satisfied with his own company. Thinking about it he decided to change his plans. He turned off the video game, stretched out and went on an adventure ... He was going to inspect every corner of the house. Field recognition.

He started in the kitchen. He found out where everything, utensils, different types of pots, foods, is kept, and with that he learned a little bit about your personality too... Everything is so methodically organized by category and size that it became very clear that you are a tidy freaky. No problem, learning to respect your habits and quirks, being clean, shouldn't be that difficult. The same style of organization also in the hall closet, and in the bathroom, and on the bookcase for games and movies. He did not enter your room or private office - although the door was open, and he could see a very large bookcase and a table full of papers and an open notebook - because he thought it would be too much intrusion. So the only place on the top floor that went through Jungkook's inspection was the terrace, where your plants are also very well cared for and categorized by type and alphabetical order - including name and scientific name signs. In the tool cabinet, he found gardening tools - as expected - and some useless things  or at least he hadn't imagined you'd have ... Like a neon pink pilates ball and an inflatable Santa Claus.

Jungkook lay on the deck chair on the terrace to sunbathe - few times in his life he had this luxury - and took the opportunity to take a nap. He woke up just before lunchtime.

"Y/N?" He checked on your office, and then in the living room. You weren't back yet, but since it was time for lunch he could finally go after you. Without hesitating he ran downstairs when he saw what time it was, escaping some steps to go faster, and without thinking, or rather remembering, that you probably wouldn't be alone in the office, Jungkook knocked twice on the door and went in before hearing an answer. So he froze by the door when he saw the two men from the other day with you in the room.

You were sharing the office chair with that hybrid - in fact he was practically sitting on your lap while you typed something on the computer, arms around him, both focused on the screen. The other guy, the human, had his back to Jungkook, hunched over the table, also looking at the same thing as you. It must be something important, because none of them noticed Jungkook's presence at first. Once again he felt that he was interrupting something he shouldn't be getting into - the little line forming between your eyebrows, while you read something on the screen in deep concentration saying it. With a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach he also felt that he should be interrupting for sure. No other hybrid should be on your lap while he is home alone. He was about to cough to get your attention, ready to make it very clear how unhappy he was with the scene, to let you know that your attitude was not cool, but the hybrid looked up from the computer, making eye contact with him. All of Jungkook's feelings are gone all of a sudden, leaving only the need to hide in a hole on the ground.

"Hi." The hybrid smiled at him, eyes turning into two crescent moons. This made you and the other guy see Jungkook too. The man, who today was dressed as a very stylish grandpa, turned around, sitting on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. JUngkook felt his face getting hot with all eyes on him.

"Oh, JK. I didn't see it's lunchtime already. Sorry." You said, checking your wristwatch.   

Jungkook couldn't answer, his voice stuck in his throat.

"We ran into each other in the hall yesterday, right?" The human calmly asked Jungkook, not really waiting for an answer. His eyes were so intimidating, a whole dominating vibe coming from him. "He's the one living with you?"

"Yes! This is Jungkook." You pridely said, giving a light pat on the hybrid knee, so he could let you get up. "And this is Taehyung, my friend who rents the studio across the hall. And this little cutie here Jimin he works for me as a counter."

"I like numbers!" Jimin said, cat ears excitedly pointed up. "Nice to meet you." Jungkook finally put some word out, still avoiding eye contact. You closed some folders, saved some docs... Finding it super cute that Jungkook was so shy.

"Let's eat." You stated. "Finally..." Teahyung and Jimin whined in unison. Taehyung out of nowhere lost his frightening posture, practically becoming a child right in front of Jungkook. A very excited child.

"Can we get hamburgers today? Last time Jimin chose, and before him was you..." He picked his shoulder bag and went to the door, stopping right next to Jungkook, who practically froze in place.

You followed suit, stopping on the other side of Jungkook, pressing a reassuring hand against the boy's back.

"I actually want to put Jungkook on a healthier diet. A regular meal would be better." You softly but certainly said with a smile, no room for debate. You wouldn't say that out loud, because it would be exposing Jungkook unnecessarily, and you don't know if he would like it, but his blood tests, done at the shelter, showed anemia, among other consequences of a poor diet, even though he is strong his health was not very good, and your plan is to take care of it.

" I think Jungkook could choose, since he is new." Jimin practically put everyone out to lock the door.

The silence that followed made Jungkook look up from the floor to see that the three were looking at him expecting him to say something he wanted to eat.

"Me..meat?" It was the first thing that came to his mind.

________________________________________________________________

Tag List:  @stayunderthelights  @deolly  @panconte @serendipityoreuphoria @madygswich @namjoonies-dimple @givebuckysomelove @imluckybitches @hoseokslefteyebrow  @yzkyzkuniverse @flaring-vibes @justpeachyjoon​

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If you want me to tag you, pls tell me. 

AND PLEASE GIVE LOVE TO THIS WORK OF MINE: Clumsy

[galacticidiots]

Saw a post that said “Looking forward to Hallmark’s holiday offering ‘A very COVID Christmas’ when a big city lawyer and a country candle maker accidentally meet when they go to the wrong zoom meeting” and my ducking brain just went “Ben and Rey though....”

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT MY ENTIRE LIFE, let’s GO:

Rey is a very successful divorce lawyer working in Manhattan. Her client, Kaydel Connix, is a popular Upper East Side interior designer. She is engaged to assistant district attorney Rose Tico, but before she can say I Do to her gorgeous fiancée, she needs to divorce her only-on-paper husband… Ben Solo. 

They got married on a drunken dare when they were both eighteen -  they lived in a small town, what else was there to do on a saturday night? -  and never got around to filing for divorce. There’s no bad blood between them at all, but Kaydel hasn’t seen Ben in years, so she asks her good friend Rey to take care of the bureaucracy and facilitate the proceedings.

Besides, it’s not like anybody can get in or out of the city during the lockdown.

Their first zoom meeting is a disaster, because of technical difficulties.. There’s a problem with the connection and they can’t get the video to work, just the audio. They make do. His voice is soothing. She feels… comfortable. 

The second meeting is a disaster for completely different reasons. Rey didn’t know who she expected to find on the other side of the screen, but Ben Solo looks nothing like what she assumed a small town candle maker would look like. He is big, buff, his structure more suited to chop wood than make candles. His shoulders alone cover most of the screen, for fuck’s sake. 

Her mouth is dry. She barely manages a curt hello. She had appreciated the smooth, rich timber of his voice the first time they talked, but the effect is even more intense when she can see the man it belongs to.

She swallows. She’s a professional, and she pulls herself together and carries on with the meeting. Her eyes only dip to his lips twice. 

Ben Solo’s own never really stray from hers. He is polite, attentive, and kind throughout their meetings. But when he smiles…. Well, fuck. Ben’s smile is more of a lopsided smirk. The kind that promises trouble of the most delicious kind. 

It doesn’t take more than three meetings to settle everything. Ben is happy to sign anything that needs signing and he is quick to send her all the documents needed. Rey manages to drag it to five meetings. Then six. By the tenth zoom call, she forces herself to face the facts: they hadn’t discussed a single detail of the divorce in a long time. Ben laughs when she points that out. I guess I got too caught up… in you, he says. She melts. He blushes.

Rey wishes she could keep stalling, wishes she could talk to Ben forever, but… Kaydel is her friend, and she’s on a time crunch. It’s with sad eyes and a heavy heart that she says goodbye to Ben, and if she notices the way his own smile falters at the end just before she disconnects… well, she’s sure she’s just imagining it. 

Goodbye, Rey. 

It doesn’t sound like a goodbye at all. 

A week later, she receives a package. It’s big and heavy and Rey has no idea what it could be until she sees the sender’s name: Little Solo Candle Co. and Ben’s logo. 

Inside, there are dozens of candles - all handmade, all wonderful. They smell good enough to eat. Lazy Sunday, Walk on the Beach, Winter Rain... they all have quirky names. Inside the package, there’s a card with a mesage: A little something to remember me by. The yellow one is my particular favorite. I hope you like it. It’s new x

Rey looks for the yellow candle. She sniffs. It smells... cozy, warm. A little bit citrusy, but with a rich note of something she can’t quite put her finger on. She turns the candle to see the name - Rey of Sunshine.

Her smile nearly splits her face in two.

Rey thinks and ponders and wishes some more… is it crazy to want to fly across the country to meet a man she has never seen face to face? Is it crazy to want to kiss his delicious lips and run her hands through his thick, luscious hair? God, she’s been stuck at home too long.

She thinks and ponders and wishes for a couple of days. And then she gets a text from Kaydel.

Kay: I’m officially divorced baaaaabes! All thanks to you! Have I mentioned that I love you? Because I DO

Kay: Also, Ben called me

Kay: And if you don’t get your butt on a plane as soon as possible and GO TO HIM I swear I will remarry that man just to spite you 

Rey knows a threat when she hears one. As soon as lockdown is lifted, she runs. 

To a little town by the coast. 

To a little house and a little workshop. 

To a man who smells as good as his candles, and who is everything but little. 

(HALLMARK, CALL ME)

[hookedonapirate]

Beyond a Reasonable Doubt

Summary: Detective Killian Jones took an indefinite leave of absence from SBPD after his brother was murdered in the Line of Duty. Bitter and broken, he resides in a cottage on the beach when his brother's former partner, David Nolan brings him a case he knows the vengeful detective won’t be able to resist. A case involving Liam's killer.  

Dr. Emma Swan makes all of her decisions like she operates on her patients—with care, competence and compassion. But when her colleague, Graham Humbert, is murdered in cold blood by the man who was freed because of a decision she made as a juror, she starts second-guessing herself. To make matters worse, her squeaky clean reputation is being questioned when she becomes a suspect for Graham’s murder.

There is one detective who believes she’s innocent, and he has a plan to protect Emma and find his brother's killer at the same time. When Killian finds himself caught between his duties to the SBPD and his need for vengeance, matters are only complicated by the feelings he develops for the woman he's supposed to protect.

He's impulsive and hot-tempered, and she's methodical and cool under pressure. Despite their differences, can they work together to bring the murderer to justice, or will the murderer get to them first?

A/N: I decided to post this earlier than I had planned. Thanks for all of your responses so far! Some trigger warnings I forgot to add but don't happen until this and future chapters anyway are inappropriate and unwanted infatuation. There will probably be more tw's as we move along.

Many thanks go to @ultraluckycatnd​ for her wonderful beta-ing skills and @onceuponaprincessworld​ as always for her encouragement and letting me bounce ideas off of her.

Rated: Explicit due to mature language, character death, violence, murder and smut. The scenes won’t be too graphic, but I’d rather overrate than underrate it. 

Catch up: Prologue

Chapter 1

“Hey.”

  The sound of Graham’s voice pulls Emma from her thoughts as she stares blankly into the full margarita glass in her hand. “Hey.”

  “There aren’t any hard feelings, right?”

  She can hear the concern in his thick, Irish accent as he claims the stool next to her and sets his beer tumbler on the bar top.

  Swiveling her head to look at him, she knits her brows in confusion. “Why would there be?”

  He shrugs. “Because I know how much you wanted the promotion.”

  Right. That. 

  Emma’s been so consumed by the trial she actually forgot why she was here at the bar—to celebrate Graham’s promotion. The hospital board of directors appointed Graham to Chief of Surgery a week ago, and though the news was a major blow to her at first, she’s thrilled for him; she really is. Yes, she’d wanted the position, and ever since the predecessor announced his retirement, she and Graham had been the leading contenders. She’s proven time and time again she’s more than capable of overtaking the extra responsibilities the job entails, but Graham deserves the title as well. 

  “You're qualified and capable and you deserved it,” Graham says empathetically with an expression meant to convey his reluctance to say what he wants to say. Averting his eyes from hers, he cradles the back of his neck with his palm, his cheeks reddening as he adds, “Probably more qualified than I am.”

  Emma tilts her head from side to side and offers a slight smirk. “Not probably. I am,” she teases playfully, making him chuckle. His left hand rests on the bar top between them as she places her hand over his, her smirk transforming into a sincere smile. “I’m happy for you, Graham, I really am. I’m sorry if I seem…” she pauses, debating which adjective best describes her recent behavior before settling on, “distant.” Distant isn’t really the adequate term, but it’s the best word to convey her mood without putting a damper on his.

  Graham swivels toward her on his stool to cover her hand with his other one. “That trial really rattled you, didn’t it?”

  Emma drags her hand away to bring the margarita glass to her lips, and mumbles, “In more ways than one,” before taking a sip. Not only does she constantly question her decision, but the visions of the defendant’s eyes watching her keep flittering through her mind. He'd made her feel very uncomfortable in the courtroom. Every time she'd look his way, he was staring. And she knew he wasn’t merely staring aimlessly into space or at someone next to her. No, he was staring directly at her. She kept trying to discourage his attention by scowling at him or looking away, but her attempts only seemed to encourage him. Every time she saw that creepy grin on his face, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end; it was like slimy worms were crawling up her skin. She felt like she were in an episode of Fear Factor.

  “Don’t beat yourself up, Em. He could actually be innocent,” Graham says with a spirited grin as he playfully nudges her elbow with his. “And if he is, you saved an innocent man’s life.”

  Emma smiles faintly at him, appreciating his optimism. “I didn't. The jury saved him.”

  “Oh, come on, where’s that confident surgeon I know? I would’ve thought you’d return from the trial gloating about being picked as a forewoman when I said you wouldn’t even be chosen as a juror.”

  Emma laughs. “You have a valid point, I should be brandishing my bragging rights at your celebration party instead of sulking at the bar all by my lonesome.” She takes another sip of her drink.

  When she moaned and groaned to Graham in the doctors’ lounge about receiving the jury summons, he was quick to point out she wouldn’t be chosen because she’s too opinionated, too analytical and too bossy. Emma just smirked and took his remarks as compliments. “Guess you were wrong.”

  He shrugs indifferently. “Oh well, you win some, you lose some. I can’t expect to win all our battles.”

  Emma nods in agreement. “What would be the fun in winning all the time?”

  Graham winks at her. “Exactly.”

  He chugs the rest of his beer down before asking Emma to play darts with him. She groans, but when he takes her hand in his and pulls her from the barstool, she doesn’t argue. 

  After she beats him at darts, she chats with other colleagues and switches to water after one margarita, since she has to drive home. Robin Locklsey is the owner of the bar, but his wife, Regina, is one of the doctors celebrating with them tonight, so he joins them at the table to socialize and later, plays a couple rounds of pool with Graham and Regina. 

  Emma is the first among her colleagues to announce she’s ready to leave because she has to work an early shift in the morning. After saying good night to everyone, she is escorted to her car by Graham.

  “Thanks for coming tonight,” he says sincerely as they turn to face each other in front of her car.

  “Thanks for inviting me.” Emma gnaws on her bottom lip, wondering if he really knows how happy she is for him, and not bitter in any way. Of course, she’d take the promotion in a heartbeat, but she’s glad it went to him and not someone else. “Congratulations, Graham. I‘m really proud of you,” Emma says with a genuine smile. Then she opens her arms, and he follows suit, pulling her into a hug. “If someone other than me had to get the promotion, I’m glad it was you,” she murmurs into his ear, resting her chin on his shoulder.

  “Thank you,” he whispers, holding her tight.

  The hug is longer than she expects, and as soon as she realizes other colleagues could filter out at any second and think something else is happening between the two doctors who are famously known around the hospital as rival surgeons, Emma pulls away. “Have a good night, Graham.” She’s about to turn around and walk away, but he does something else she doesn’t expect. 

  He leans in and kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Emma.”

  She offers a faint smile. “Goodbye, Graham.”

  She walks away from him, not sure what to think or how else to respond to what just happened. They’ve known each other since they were both residents and never once has he kissed her on the cheek, which is actually kind of strange if she thinks about it. They’ve always been too busy poking fun at one another to engage in long hugs and kisses on the cheek. 

 Once Emma’s inside her car, she places her hand on her cheek as she watches him head back into the bar. The kiss meant nothing. It was just a cheek kiss. They’re friends. They should be able to exchange cheek kisses without it meaning anything. 

  Yes, it was just a friendly kiss, Emma surmises as she pulls her hand away from her cheek to start her trusty bug. When the engine roars to life, she pulls away from the curb, breathing unsteadily as she drives home. She knows it was only a friendly kiss, but did he? Could he have feelings for her that went beyond the friendly relationship they had established? 

  If so, she has to put a stop to it now. She can't get romantically involved with a colleague. She doesn't get romantically involved with anyone, and certainly not with anyone she works with. What they have now is good and she doesn't want that to change.

  The entire way home, she wonders if the kiss had meant something more than friendship. It's 10:17 pm when she pulls into her garage and decides to ask him about the kiss tomorrow and tell him they can't be anything more than friends.

  ~*~

  Four hours later…

  The smoke rings float through the pleasantly cool, Texas air before slowly evaporating into the blackness. The soothing sound of a trumpet from his favorite Frank Sinatra song plays through the audio speakers as he stares at the photo in the Storybrooke Telegram. It’s a glowing article about Storybrooke General’s new Chief of Surgery and confirmation of what his sweet Tamara told him yesterday. It’s not that he didn’t believe her, but he needed proof so he would know without a shadow of a doubt his efforts will not be wasted. It’s not every day he takes a life for his own personal agenda. And truth be told, he doesn’t trust anyone. Not even the pretty nurse who’s been his second pair of eyes and ears since he met her at the strip club six months ago. Two out of the three days a week Tamara’s not working at the hospital, she’s pole dancing to pay off her college debts.

  Tossing the paper aside, he brings the cigar between his lips and gently inhales, savoring the warm cherry-flavored smoke before exhaling slowly, blowing the smoke toward the direction where Storybrooke General stands tall. The excitement dancing inside his belly is almost unbearable. 

  Not guilty.

  Since the moment those two delightful words rang through the courtroom, he’d been contemplating ways to thank the beautiful blonde juror who so passionately argued for his acquittal. 

  And he’s thought of the perfect way to show his gratitude.

  His lips expand into a menacing grin. He grows hard just thinking about her and how flushed she got when he stared at her lustfully in the courtroom. Such an exquisite creature she is. She wore those soft, silk blouses and tight black skirts which showed off her long, sexy legs and made her ass look so nice, you could melt ice cubes on it. She looked good enough to eat. 

  He groans and palms his erection, but the ringing of his phone interrupts his pleasant thoughts. If only he had enough time to finish himself off while fantasizing about her. But not tonight. 

  With a frustrated grunt, he removes his hand from his crotch and pauses the music with the remote control before accepting the call from the unknown number. He says nothing into the phone, only waits for the caller to speak.

  “He’s pulling out of his driveway now.”

  He ends the call and slips the phone into his pocket, doing his best to contain his excitement. He reaches over and extinguishes the butt of his cigar with the photo of the chief surgeon’s face, taking immense pleasure in watching the cigar blacken and burn a hole into the thin paper. 

  Rising from his chair, he leers lasciviously over the city from the vantage point of his penthouse balcony. 

  He carries the Storybrooke Telegram inside and tosses it into the fireplace, watching it disintegrate into ash before he leaves his condo with a knife hidden in his ankle holster. He descends several floors in the elevator and leaves the building, sashaying down the sidewalk as he lifts his hood over his head before shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. Walking to Storybrooke General takes all of ten minutes, giving him plenty of time to arrive before the Chief Surgeon pulls into the doctor’s parking lot, according to how long it took him to drive from the man’s house to the hospital yesterday morning after he’d followed the doctor home.

  Dressed in all black, he’s able to slink around in the night like a black panther. Unlike his father, he always leaves a crime scene like a ghost—invisible and untraceable. He’d burned off his fingerprints long ago and always leaves the weapon at the scene of the crime. It’s too bad his father wasn’t as smart. He may have been cunning and evil, his heart black as night, but there is a reason he’s rotting in prison while his son enjoys a life of luxury as a contract killer, and yet has never been convicted of a crime. No, he’s nothing like his father. He doesn’t have an evil bone in his body. He doesn’t kill people with malice intent; he performs a service—a job—and he does so with a straight face, his eyes devoid of emotion. He’s had nothing against anyone he’s ever murdered.

  Well, until tonight.

  Tonight, he will be the one wielding the power, tonight he will be the one deciding someone’s fate.

  Because tonight he’s doing it for her.

  Dr. Emma Swan.

Tagging some people who have shown interest so far. If you would like to be tagged or untagged, please let me know.

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[lesserpandeu]

Software Instability | prologue

fandom: NCT

genre: Sci-Fi/Detroit: Become Human AU!, android AU!, probably lots of angst + fluff in later chapters

pairing: Mark x Reader (probably some Donghyuck x Reader if you squint super hard, especially in later chapters)

words: 3,262

warnings: gun violence, death, cursing;

summary: The amount of deviant cases your department has been receiving is concerning to say the least. After pressuring the android manufacturing company, CyberLife, they send an android to assist your department in finding out what is causing the deviancy in so many androids lately. His name is Mark, and as soft as he seems on the outside, you can’t help but be utterly terrified by him. 

A/N: This story is based on the world of the video game “Detroit: Become Human”. Just replacing Connor (one of the main characters) with Mark and putting y/n in it. You don’t need to know anything about D:BH to read the story, as I explain everything the reader needs to know as the story progresses! While it doesn’t follow the plot word for word all the time, sometimes I need to look up the cutscenes and repeat them to help progress the plot (like the negotiation scene in this prologue). Warning: It might take me awhile to update, but it also it might not, lol. I’m awful about staying on top of fics. Enjoy!

prologue: “My name is Mark”

One more fucking deviant case and you’d lose your goddamn mind.

It was only a matter of time until the deviant jumped off the balcony with the little girl in his arms, sending them both to their dooms. It was a little more imperative for the girl, considering she was actually alive. The android was expendable, but given the fact that it was holding her hostage outside on the balcony, that was going to prove difficult.

Every SWAT officer that’s gone out to stop it was met with bullets aiming with perfect accuracy and an inability to get closer, risking the girl’s safety.

“One more team, just send one more, we’ll get him this time-” your colleague was suggesting as the both of you stood in the office of a once peaceful family home, before the android turned on them and killed them all, except for the little girl he was currently holding near the edge of the pent suite’s balcony.

“It didn’t work the first two times, it won’t work a third, Taeil. We wait for the negotiator to arrive to diffuse the situation-” Donghyuck, your other colleague cut Taeil off before he committed the same offense.

“What’s a fucking negotiator going to do?! That deviant was beyond the point of reason the minute it went nuts!”

“Both of you, shut up,” you groaned, holding your fingers to your temple. You were currently sitting in the office chair, trying to sooth yourself from one of the most stressful moments in your career, no doubt. “No one likes the situation right now, cause frankly, there’s currently a 5% chance that this kid is making it out without falling to her fucking death. If we go against orders and things turn as sour as we’re expecting it to, we’re in for a lot of shit from the head of department that ordered this new approach. We wait, and we obey orders.”

“Oh, nice, so we’re just going to sit and watch as a blue headed android just hops off the roof murdering another innocent human, further dispelling the faith the people have in their safety around androids, only further increasing the rate of android deviancy and cases we’re already overwhelmed with, yeah, you’re so right.”

Taeil had a reason to be stressed out about this. Androids had been implemented into society now for about 30 years. Nearly everyone had one, if they could afford it. They were perfect companions, workers, and entertainers. They came in anyway you could want them: tall, short, dark, light, young, and old. You could program them however you wanted. They could be funny (honestly, you never thought comedic androids were actually funny), kind, obedient, or even sarcastic.

It wasn’t until three months ago that a crime involving an android popped up in your department. An android turned on it’s human, stabbing her fifty times in the chest. It was so shocking at the time, which made it worse when just three more cases appeared in the next two weeks. Now you're on your seventh case, though there have been many more handled by other factions of the PD. One thing all of these cases clearly had in common: deviancy.

The only thing every single android was required to have in common was obedience. It was never allowed to go against its owner’s will. Technology isn’t supposed to disobey. Bad things happen when that occurs. And boy, were they happening. Like the bad thing happening right now.

“Could you- Would- Piss off,” you end up yelling, earning a flinch from the SWAT officer that walked by the open door. They were standing by as the final resort. 

“I just want this shit to be over, thank you very much,” Taeil defensively crossed his arms and leaned against the only wall not hidden by dressers with the family’s pictures. It was suffocating to sit in a home just so freshly destroyed.

“Well, it looks like it will be, cause guess who’s here?” Donghyuck mumbled.

You looked up from your shoes to see what he was talking about.

An android dressed in a stereotypical investigative uniform strode up to the door frame, stance practically perfect. No one needed the glowing serial number on the pocket of his jacket, the blue band wrapped around his arm, or the LED ring on the side of his temple to know that he was an android. He had black hair with bangs parting out, and high cheekbones. He looked young, he seemed to have been designed with a baby face in mind. If he were just a human, he’d probably be a teenager or a college student.

He smiled. It looked so realistic. Androids look just like people these days.

“Oh my god,” Donghyuck responded. The android looked puzzled, blinking a few times as his smile dissipated.

“I didn’t say anyth-”

“They sent a fucking android to talk us out of an hostage situation cause by an android?” Donghyuck exasperated.

“Okay, enough, we need to get that girl out,” Taeil said. “What are you doing?”

“Hello. My name is Mark. I’m the android sent by Cyberlife,” he introduces himself. His voice has an odd chirp to it, like he was programmed to come off as friendly as possible.

“I hate him already-”

“Donghyuck, stop it, we don’t have time.”

“You’re damn right we don’t,” Taeil had enough and walked out the room, squeezing by Mark standing in the doorway. “This way.”

Mark followed him, allowing you and Donghyuck to do the same. You walked into the living room where the sliding doors that led to the balcony were located. The bodies of the last SWAT team lay on the ground by the pool, one fallen inside of it. No one in the room was fazed by it.

“The situation,” Tail started. “The Acharya family is home, their daughter is coming home from school. At 5:24 pm, the father is murdered by the android on the couch with a handgun. The mother follows after coming out of her room to see what is going on. The daughter returns home at 5:40 pm.”

As Taeil explains, Mark begins looking around the apartment. Any other time an officer would ask what the hell he was doing, but since Taeil was talking and didn’t seem to care, you figured it was fine. He went into the kitchen, as it was combined with the living room in a big space. He notices the stove top, which obviously causes you to be aware of it. Water is boiling, who knows for how long at this point. He turns it off, setting it on one of the inactive burners. You raise an eyebrow but nearly instantly forget about it. 

“Then, she calls the police but is then taken hostage by the android. They are currently outside, on the edge of the roof ready to fall off any minute now. He has held her at knife point the whole time, making the sniper unable to shoot. Your job is to get him away from her, preferably without killing her.” A brief, but not long at all, silence looms before Mark says something.

“Do we know the android’s name?”

“...uh”

“What kind of question-” Donghyuck laughs, cutting himself off as if in frustration.

Mark doesn’t miss a beat, “I’m going to need more information to ensure the best approach. There is currently only a forty-eight percent chance of this mission being a success.”

“Yeah, and the longer we wait, the more quickly it becomes 0-”

“Five minutes,” you state. Sure, maybe Taeil should have the final say since he is your senior in both age and experience, but you don’t care right now. Taeil sends you a glare, momentarily staying silent before letting out one of the most stressed out sighs you’ve ever heard him breath.

“Five minutes, or I’m going out there myself.”

 Mark seems to briefly look at you and Taeil as to acknowledge your permission before further inspecting his surroundings. Taeil walks off, going to talk to a SWAT officer. Donghyuck is still outwardly paranoid, leaving the room as he tries to cool down.

You? You watch Mark. Someone’s got to make sure this beta testing droid doesn’t do stupid shit. Okay, maybe less so that and you were just curious.

He walks over to the body of the father (still on the ground, you tried to ignore it the best you could), and takes the holographic tablet out of his hands. He unlocks it somehow, looking through it. Soon he puts it down and goes off somewhere. You follow him, he doesn’t seem to pay you any attention, though.

He, interestingly enough, goes into the girl’s bedroom, indicated by the giant teddy bear residing in it. He looks around, noticing a few things. Frankly, you have no clue what he was doing. But it was too much of a bother to prod him for answers. 

He picks up a different tablet this time, unlocking it. Audio playback begins, drawing your attention. You then notice that it’s actually a video playing. You can see it from around Mark’s torso, given the angle created by standing in the doorway of the bedroom. What on earth was he doing?

“This is Jaemin!” the girl’s voice declares. The video shows her face, that then pans out to show her arm around an android. The blue-haired one you were dealing with at this very moment. But his hair was brown in the photo. Not strange, given most androids had automatic hair color changing options. “The coolest android in the world! Say hi, Jaemin!”

“Hello,” he smiles widely, waving at the camera. They both look so happy. While the video quality is significantly good, the slight distortion of the medium causes ‘Jaemin’ to look practically human, if it weren’t for the commercial android uniform. It was illegal for an android not to wear a uniform identifying that they were digital animals.

Mark puts down the tablet, ending the video playback and continuing his short investigation. He proceeded to the next room, doing just about the same thing there that he did in the last one. He kept this up until Taeil finally yelled out that the five minutes were up.

You followed Mark until you were just in front of the sliding doors, where Mark was about to walk through to diffuse the situation.

“He’s heading out now,” Taeil spoke into his receiver. With that, he opened the door. A burst of wind came through when the door opened, likely from the helicopters that had been circling around now for over an hour.

“This is going to go terribly,” Donghyuck spoke calmly, finally.

“Have a little faith, will you?” You shoved him with your shoulder, arms crossed.

“Just because you think he’s cute doesn’t mean you should have any faith, (y/n).” You hit him on the side of the head. “Oww.”

“I don’t think he’s-”

“The two of you need to shut up, we can’t hear what’s going on.”

The minute Mark stepped out, a gunshot rang. Donghyuck instinctively grabbed you and pulled you down, pulling the both of you away from the door.

“STAY BACK!” you heard the android yell out. You recovered your wits quickly, trying to look at Mark. A new blue blood stain is on the floor right outside the door, coming from Mark. You naturally looked to see if Mark is okay, even if it logically wouldn’t make sense for him to be in pain. He is looking down at the fresh wound on his chest, without any hint of pain in his face. It gave you chills. Androids didn’t feel pain, and as long as they could function with all their parts working, they could take anything.

“Holy shit,” you heard Donghyuck whisper.

“MOVE ANY CLOSER AND I’LL JUMP!” Jaemin yelled, holding the girl with his other arm. She screamed, begging for her life. It’s horrifying to see.

“Get into position, go, go, go!” Taeil speaks hurriedly into his receiver, likely speaking to the sniper squad. The SWAT team that stands by lines up behind the door, ready to burst out at any moment. The situation is at its highest level of intensity that it’s been tonight. 

This is it.

“Hi, Jaemin!” Mark yelled over the noise. So he proves he knows the android’s name, you think. So what? “My name is Mark!”

“How do you know my name?!” Jaemin questioned, the gun still pointed towards Mark, and frankly the rest of you as well.

“I know a lot of things about you,” Mark continued yelling over the helicopters outside. “I’ve come to get you out of this!”

A second later, a helicopter swung around too close to the balcony, producing an even higher gust of wind and blowing the lawn furniture off the ground. It doesn’t hit anyone, but it definitely irritated a certain deviant.

“I know you’re angry, Jaemin,” Mark spoke again. Yeah, why the fuck was he so pissed? You thought to yourself. 

“But you need to trust me, and let me help yo-”

“I DON’T WANT YOUR HELP! NOBODY CAN HELP ME, ALL I WANT IS FOR ALL THIS TO STOP I-... I JUST WANT ALL THIS TO STOP!” He pauses a moment before becoming aggressive again.

“Are you armed?!” he asked.

“I have a gun,” Mark responded. He slowly reached behind him, pulling a handgun out before tossing it aside. You’re deadly silent until Donghyuck impatiently interrupted your focus.

“Is he fucking crazy?”

“He’s doing great, now shut the fuck up,” Taeil whispered angrily in his and your direction.

“There,” Mark said gently, despite keeping his voice loud and clear. “No more gun.” Another short silence settled before he kept slowly approaching the deviant, or Jaemin as you guess his name was.

“They were going to replace you,” he continued talking. “That’s what happened, right?”

“... I thought I was part of the family,” the deviant pathetically confessed. “I thought I mattered… But I was just their toy! Something to throw away, when you’re done with.”

“I know you and Kiara were very close,” Mark sympathised. Or at least he appeared to. Kiara? That must be the girl’s name, you reasoned. Did he find that out when he was looking through stuff? “You think she betrayed you, but she’s done nothing wrong-”

“SHE LIED TO ME!” the deviant cried. Mark stopped, doing something unexpectedly. He looked away from the hostage and the deviant, to one of the officers on the ground. He leaned down, observing before speaking out again.

“He’s losing blood. We need to get him to a hospital or he’s going to die,” he said. The action was very weird, in your opinion. But maybe it’s part of his tactic. You guessed that’s what Donghyuck also thought because he wasn’t saying anything.

“All humans die eventually,” the deviant said coldly. It nearly gives you a shiver. “What does it matter if this one dies now?”

Mark seems to ignore him, starting to turn the officer on his back and do something. Another shot rang, nearly hitting Mark and the officer.

“Don’t touch him!” the deviant yelled. “Touch him and I’ll kill you!”

“You can’t kill me,” Mark stated. “I’m not alive.” He continues whatever he’s doing, seeming to forget about the mission for a moment.

“Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck-” Donghyuck starts whispering. You covered his mouth with your hand, trying to shut him up. How the hell did they let such a hot-headed person get on the force?

Mark finishes what he’s doing, which you guess was to try to stop the bleeding. He stood up, a tie now gone from his uniform. He continues to approach slowly.

“It’s not your fault. These emotions you are feeling are just errors in your software.”

“No… It’s not my fault. I never wanted this. I-” Jaemin goes limp for a moment, hand with the gun falling to his side. “I love them. You know?... But I was nothing to them,” he picks up his gun again. “Just a slave to be ordered around. AUGHH-” he suddenly bursts. “I CAN’T STAND THAT NOISE ANYMORE!” The helicopters. Obviously. They’ve been around for hours. “Tell them to get out of here!”

Taeil spoke something into his receiver in order to do so, but you are hardly listening anymore. Mark is so close. Soon the helicopters left and the negotiation continued.

“There,” Mark assured. “I did what you wanted.” Mark is practically standing in front of him at this point. Jaemin seems hesitant and does not know what to do.

“I-” he stuttered. “I want everyone to leave! A-And I want a car. When I’m outside the city I’ll let her go.”

“That’s impossible, Jaemin. Let the girl go, and I promise you you won’t be hurt.”

“... I don’t want to die…” Jaemin began to cry, his voice becoming softer.

“You’re not going to die,” Mark assured. “We’re just going to talk. Nothing will happen to you.” Mark stops before uttering his next phrase with utter seriousness. “You have my word.”

Everyone held their breath. The silence is long and infuriating. You felt Donghyuck radiate heat from your side. You can only imagine you weren’t far from doing the same thing.

“... okay,” Jaemin was still crying. “I trust you.” He slowly let the girl down, still holding his gun but not pointing it at anyone. She shook, running only a few feet away from the edge before collapsing onto the ground. There was another moment where Mark and Jaemin looked at eachother. Unfortunately, everyone on your side, including Mark, knew what was about to happen.

A louder shot rang out from one of the snipers, and Kiara screamed. A large gaping hole appeared in Jaemin’s side, the force of the shot causing him to stumble around. Not a second later, another shot went off, right into his chest this time. It’s followed by a third. Jaemin wavers, falling to his knees. With three different shimmering blue gashes across his body, he struggles before looking back up into Mark’s eyes.

“You lied to me, Mark.” He tries to say it once more, before his voice fails and he shuts down.

You don’t move and neither does Donghyuck. You can’t believe what just happened. That had to be the most intense moment of your career and you hadn’t even started. Donghyuck was probably on the same boat. Taeil was the first one to move, coming onto the balcony and walking past Mark. Mark just turned away and walked back into the flat. 

You see his face, completely and utterly stoic. Even Taeil looked back, though his face doesn’t show it you know he’s as stunned as the rest of you that just saw everything that took place. And how this android that just appeared so empathetic, compassionate, and kind enough to save an officer’s life just walked away like it was another task completed. It reminded all of you that this wasn’t a human. It was just an android.

If you couldn’t be more awe-stricken and terrified, Mark’s eyes flicker to yours so fast you hardly know if it was just your imagination. But that is all he does as he leaves just as casually as he entered.

“Jesus Christ,” Donghyuck can’t bring himself to get up, now resorting to sitting on the floor. “I really don’t like him now.”

For once, you would have to throw the towel in. Mark was utterly terrifying.

[pastellhunny]

•Under The Red Sky•

Chapter 2. Arrangements

About and hour and a half had past since Alastor handed out the phone books. Charlie called many somewhat suitable places to host a dance but everyone she called declined and mocked her over the phone. At some point Alastors nerves were tested by this disrespect. He found it annoying that no one gave her a chance but then again he didn't really believe her either. All he was there for was a good time, something to soothe his boredom and maybe something extra only if it turns out demons can be rehabilitated. Alastor was snapped out of his thoughts when Husk piped up over at the bar.

"Ugh why are we even doing this no one cares about a stupid dance unless theirs drugs, alcohol or money involved." Husk grumbled.

Just then Nifty jumped up from where she was sitting and smacked Husk lightly. "STOP It! that's not the spirit besides i know someone we can call."

Charlie's attention was definitely grabbed by this, "Who is it?"

"Well she's a friend of Alastors they're quite close so i think she'll be able to hook us up huh Ally!" Nifty rejoiced as she jumped up and down and zoomed around Alastor.

Als smile stretch as he tried to hold back laughter. "Pffft... HAHAHAhah that's a good one you little devil you, there's no way in hell-

"Uhhuh, uhuh, uhhh oh okay so in three days you'll have a place for us? Great! Alastor sends his regards. Thank you!" Charlie ended the call as quickly as Nifty cut Alastor off. "So in three days she'll have a room open for us to host the dance."

"Wha-but wait how- did you- well that's perplexing." Alastor thought to himself, Rosie would never let the princess anywhere near her business. Why in the world would she ever say yes?

"I can't believe you knew someone and you didn't tell me?" Charlie asked as she crossed her arms and he expression turned sad for a moment.

A radio crack came through not before Al shook his head, "No no my dear Rosie can be tough to negotiate with she's not one to accept an offer from such a.. um well undesirable place such as this hotel."

Charlie openeded her mouth to say something but Angel got to it first, "So this means we're gonna need beverages right? WELL i'm off to get alcohol byeee!!!" Angel blurted out as he got up and sped out the door.

"HEY ANGEL NO ALCOHOL YOu idiot!!" Vaggie sighed as she muttered that she'll get him and with that she ran out the door after Angel.

"Ugh" Charlie grumbled as she pinched the space between her eyes just above her nose. "Okay well i guess i'll find a way to get the snacks an-"

"Oh no no no dear that won't be necessary, i'm sure i can find a way to get us something up to Rosies taste." Al said as he pondered how he could get something for the party without needlessly paying for it.

"Wait are you sure i can help you out i am the one hosting the party." Charlie offered with a smug smile.

"Ah i think you mean co hosting i am your business partner after all. No but it won't be needed my darling you can go off and tend to other needs while i take care of it." Al noticed her face soften it made a little radio static crackle through as his smile widened. "Anyways i'll see what i can do my dear." He said as he spun to the door.

Charlie smiled fondly as she watched him exit the hotel. It was confusing why he wanted to help but she deeply appreciated the little things he did just for the hotel and supposedly for his entertainment. She shook her head, "I might as well pick something out to wear."

Vaggie went running down the sidewalk after Angel, "Hey shitlord stop for a goddamn second!"

"Oh so you did follow me then huh?" Angel said as he turned around and stopped with a big smile on his face.

"Yeah ofcourse i- wait did you run out just to get me to follow you?" Vaggie asked out of breath as she caught up to him.

"Well yes and no i did wanna go and gets some booze ya know for ma own purposes but i wanted to talk to you about something." Angel continued as they walked down the street towards the liquor store.

"And what's that." Vaggie said while crossing her arms thinking he was about to make a sex joke or something.

"What do you think similes' game is at the hotel?" He asked with a genuine face of somewhat concern.

Vaggie was surprised by this her eyes widened, she didn't think anyone was suspicious of him other than her. "Honestly i don't know, it could be anything. To tarnash the hotel, to make fun of us, or maybe something even worse."

"What could he do if this whole uh rehabilitation thing were true- well um i mean since it is true." Angel stuttered watching what he said to not upset Vaggie.

Vaggie furrowed her brow in annoyance, "An overlord is hard to read especially the radio demon himself is a whole other story. I know for one thing there's no way he could just be here because he's bored." She said as she bent her fingers into air quotes.

"Idk this place gives me a laugh sometimes! HA" Angel laughed as Vaggie punched him hard in the arm.

Back at the hotel Charlie was deciding what she was gonna wear and what the theme should be. Obviously she decided for it to be Classy since Rosie is an overlord and they tend to have pretty high standards. A tux might be too casual for her since she wears one everyday pretty much, a dress would probably empress and give her a little bit more respect if she can turn heads for a good reason.

Charlie reached into the back of her closet for the dress she wore for her family portrait about a 100 or so years ago. Upon pulling it out a little bit of dust smoked off of it so she patted it down all while coughing. "This should do!" Charlie said with a smile as she went to go change into it.

Once Alastor was out the door he used his shadow ability to pretty much teleport himself directly to Rosies emporium recently was Franklin and Rosie but shamefully the cleansing took Franklin with many other sinful demons. Rosies business is more of like a fashion business her entire building is like one big store with the exception of a ware house with a run way to promote her new designs and outfits she has to sell. Rosie was a type of demon that loves luxury. Her soothing voice with a devilish white sharp smile and sense of fashion says it all.

Alastor teleported to Rosies room within the building. Rosie seemed to have expected him as she was sitting in a velvet chair in the corner of the room with a large smile present on her face. The lights were off which made the void that was her eyes seem even more absent.

"So my dear Rosie why did you accept the damsels cry?" Alastor asked as he spun his radio staff and tapped it on the ground. "Not up to anything devious now are we?" He said truly curious as to why she'd let anyone she didn't know near her business.

"What me oh no no that couldn't ever be me, i just want the publicity. Business honey that's all i need from this." Rosie laughed as she stood and gazed out her window towards the hotel across town. "I mean i have a front row seat, isn't that what you're doing there sugar." Rosie questioned with a smug face.

A crackle sifted through the air as Alastor spoke, "Perhaps my dear but this endeavor has turned out to be quite fun on the contrary, why i've never had this many laughs just watching the sad sap of a hotel crumble." An audio track laugh played behind his voice as he spoke but speaking badly upon charlie's hotel for someone reason made him feel uncomfortable.

Rosie chuckled, "No no i mean what do you really want, i know you Alastor and you never do anything without a reason or" she paused, "for mere boredom Ha." She turned from the window to face him, her shadow casting on his face as she stepped closer to him. "I know you already have a devilish plan brewing inside that head of yours."

Alastor stared at her with his wide smile, "Well if you so much desire to know i suppose i'll tell you."

Rosie leaned forward eager to hear what he was going to dish out.

"Only after the party just to make sure you'll stick to your word Rosie dear." Alastor mused as his crooked smile grew. Rosie laughed in response to this.

"You always were one to see a deal through. Oh and did that princess make a deal with you yet?" Rosie asked as Alastor went to turn around.

"No i'm afraid she's a lot smarter than i thought she's impressed me what can i say Rosie." Al smiled at the thought of how happy Charlie will be to host the party. A charming demon belle she is. "Anyways i best be on my way now i promised Charlie that i'd find a way to get her food for the party and-"

"Oh don't worry sugar i'll have it catered just for you and it'll be up to my taste." Rosie said with a little smirk upon her face as she laughed at the idea of non expensive foods being at the dance. "Consider this as you owe me one, fair enough Ally?"

Alastor furrowed his brow in annoyance he hated her little nickname she gave him Al was far better in his opinion. "Hmm lets make it a deal then." Al said as he leaned forward and extended his arm out to Rosie the green glow illuminating the room and wind seemingly gushing from its illumination. "And don't call me Ally, please." he said with a wide grin.

Rosie smiled softly as she took his hand and gently shook it. The green glow disappeared upon the shake a spark of green electricity swirled and then dissipated into thin air. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"The pleasures mine now if you'll excuse me the misses are expecting me." Al joked but Rosie didn't laugh she just smiled a knowing smile as he teleported back to the hotels front door.

"Hmm he seems a bit off" Rosie thought as she watched him disappear.

Alastor returned back to the hotel in what seemed like minutes though he didn't turn up with anything which may be a surprise to Charlie. But thanks to his shadow he can pretty much cross all the corners of hell in a mere minute at his fastest. This is probably what made him such a good hunter, stealthy and fast just like when he was still among the living he was very cunning. Al rembered his living life for a moment before the thought of the princess creeped into his head. He shook his old memories away and went on his way looking for Charlie.

"Charlie? Oh charlie?!" Al shouted as he crossed the main area of the hotel. "Hmm where has she gone to?" He thought to himself as he made his way up the stairs.

At the hotel everyone has their own room even Alastor has a room. Charlie set it up since she considered him a patron since he did approach her first after all and she found him quite enjoyable to have around. However Al hasn't slept over night in that room once, he has his own place across town so he doesn't see the need. But still the thought is what mattered the most to him, a symbol of their friendship so far and her trust to let an overlord like him sleep over in the same building as her. It made him laugh how naive she was but how nice she was.. she gives anyone a chance. Al smiled fondly at this thought and stopped in his tracks, a little crackle bliped through him. A sigh escaped him as he used his shadow to teleport to the top floor, better to not exhaust any energy.

Charlie's room which was at the top of the hotel, had a balcony and the best view of hell from what he's seen from the outside of the hotel. Al creeped up to the door, it was slightly open, he was about ready to knock but something caught his eye. He peered through the small crack to see golden locks held together by barb wire and a flowy skirt flowed beneath the hair. Al was dead silent as he watched her turn to face the mirror in front of her, giving him a better view of what she looked like from the front. Her skirt had overall straps over her shoulders and begin just below her chest. She wore a white and decorative long sleeve blouse underneath the black skirt. Her legs being the most noticeable, peered out from under the skirt at about knee length. Al was mesmerized by this show of beauty, he had no idea the princess could look so elegant.

Alastors arm was suspended in time hovering just beside the door ready to knock but something kept him from doing so. As he watched the princess more he grew more and more entranced by her flowy movements as she spun and danced in front of the mirror. She looked so happy. Just then radio blips and cracks disrupted the silence the static was somewhat musical and loud. The interferance he can't really control he never understood them but simply they're just attached to his feelings. Something Al could never come to realize or understand on his own.

Charlie(POV) stood in front of her mirror happy with how her old outfit looked. She gave herself a little spin just to see her skirt frilly up and then fall back down. She was even impressed with herself and how she did on her hair, she perfectly recreated the look she made for her old family portrait. Suddenly chills ran up Charlie's spine as loud radio cracks and static came from the door to her room.

"Shit, shit, shit turn off dammit!" Al whispered to himself and fumbled with his staff trying to make the noise shut off. The static lessened and quieted down a little bit the princess already heard him for sure. Al sighed away all his embarrassment still bearing a smile as he knocked on the door. "Charlie, it's me you're business partner! I'm back from my trip my dear!"

There was a pause before the door opened slowly and out peered Charlie's head around the corner. He face covered in a blush and it wasn't just her naturally pink cheeks giving off that affect. "Um how long were you standing there?" She asked as she averted her eyes from him.

"I-" Al stood with his eyes wide open, normally invading privacy was one of his strong suits but for some reason he felt bad for watching her without Charlie knowing. So he did the only thing he could think of. He lied pretty much. "Oh no don't worry darling i just got here." He reassured her.

Her face cleared as she let out a relaxed sigh and opened the door fully to reveal her whole outfit up close. Alastor stared at her for what seemed like an eternity before she got nervous again and looked away.

Charlie brushed a little strand of blond hair out of her face as she spoke. "So um, Al you know Rosie the best is this something that might impress."

Al stood still, still in a daze before slowly opening his mouth to deliver what he had to say. "Oh no it won't impress Rosie hardly any, she's one of the top fashion demons out there, I mean the stuff she wears is top notch!"

To this the lights in charlie's eyes dimmed as her smile turned into a frown. A crackle of static was heard, with something different happening this time it.. hurt? It pained him to see her frown.

"Uh no my dear i.. No i-i didn't mean it like that i-" Al stuttered, he didn't know what to say he humbled his words trying to say something to make her frown go away.

Charlie looked up and met his gaze not before turning away and putting her hand on the door. "No it's okay Al i don't expect to impress such a high and mighty demon anyway. It was worth a shot i guess."

The door slowly moved to shut but Al stuck his foot in between the door and the wall stopping it from closing. "Wait Charlie."

Charlie's head lifted quickly to see Al with what looked like a look of concern told only by his eye brows since all he ever did was smile but even that too looked stressed.

"If i must add.. I think you look wonderful and absolutely stinky. For what it's worth you've impressed me my dear and besides you're never fully dressed without a smile." Al spoke softly as the words left his mouth. Charlie was shocked by the sound of his voice, no radio filtered over it, it was clear and smoothe. She looked up at him and slowly her smile grew before she decided to make a daring move. She held out her hand like she was pressing it up against a flat wall.

Al looked at her perplexed before she took his hand and placed it flat against hers and then wrapped her thumb around his hand and his around her hand. "I know you don't liked to be touched so i'll give you a hug this way."

Alastor was at a complete loss for words, his hand touching hers gave him a sick feeling to his stomach like his guts were about to crawl out of his skin. Her hand was so soft and smooth he almost didn't wanna let go, it was warm to the touch and comforting to say the least. His normal radio static was gone and instead a song from the thirty's filtered in and began to play. Al noticed right away and reluctantly swooped his hand away from hers consequently stopping the music with a what sounded like a record scratch.

Charlie noticed his sudden movement and gave him a free exit ticket fearing she over stepped. "Oh i'm so sorry, i um guess you should probably inform the others to dress classy for this event." She said with a soft yet nervous smile.

Al gratefully took this offer and waved her goodbye before exiting her room and pretty much instantly teleporting to his room at the hotel. The moment he got inside he sat on the velvet red bed, the room came with, with a flop. "What in the world just happened?" Al asked to himself outloud.

His little radio staff responded back to him only with the same song that Al cut off earlier. The thirties love song type of music.

"Oh please i don't need a dance party at the moment. I don't understand did she use some sort of demonic power on me back there or what?!" Al debated deeply, no way as far as he can tell he's much stronger than that charming demoness he'd be able to sense it.

His staff rolloed its single eye, "You know for and overlord you're quite oblivious! Hah" A laugh track crackled through, it's gonna take a lot for Al to figure it out.

⎯

part 1 part 3

[certifiedmoth]

Three’s More Fun

Xavier Plympton x Jim Mason x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader finds herself in an interesting situation when the two most desired men at Camp Redwood seem to only have eyes for her.

Notes: I know we know absolutely nothing about Xavier (if that even is his real name), but oh well, I wanted to write some fuckboy Xavier and sweet jimmy, enjoy!! picture credit to @cruzinwithhorrorstory

Warnings: Oral (female receiving), fingering, degradation

Word Count: 3.1K

___

Everybody knew who the kings of Camp Redwood were. From the moment they stepped foot on the soil, they owned it. Wherever they went, hungry eyes followed and daydreams played in the mind of every not-so-innocent bystander.

Xavier made his presence known no matter where he went. Whether it was the dining hall, the shared cabin the counselors used, or his studio, once he stepped into a room, all eyes became glued to the confident (some would even argue cocky) blonde. They would look him up and down, as he strut across the room, with a smirk that showed he knew all too well what he was doing to everyone there. With his shorts a little too short and his demeanor a little too friendly, he knew ways to get exactly what he wanted out of people.

He was the dance instructor, and a good one, at that. He moved effortlessly throughout his classes and always made sure to pay extra attention to those he liked. Always so eager to help out his more attractive coworkers with their stretches and techniques; one could say he was simply a generous man. Or at least, he would say that. He so graciously gifted everyone with the ability to fantasize about what life would be like with the king himself. About how he would touch them, how he would kiss them and dote on them… about how he would make them feel when they were all alone together at night. He got off on knowing just how wanted and adored he was.

Attention had always been something that Xavier craved and it filled him with the sweetest pleasure knowing that it was him who everyone dreamt of at night. The idea of others secretly pleasing themselves in their beds to the thought of the man himself, hopelessly wishing he was there with them, was enough to keep him busy at night, as well. The thought of others desiring him filled certain parts of his body with need and he really was never one to deny himself of such pleasures, so he’d hungrily search for his release anywhere he could. He’d touch himself, not bothering to hold back his almost-too-perfect sounding groans. He figured his loud, sweet noises were just another gift. Such a giving man.

Fantasies and audio porn weren’t the only gifts bestowed upon his peers. He was also kind enough to share stories. His sexual experiences were a gold mine, and he never missed an opportunity to share just how skilled he was. But as generous as he was in some ways, he had difficulty finding anyone actually worthy of taking a ride on his “Magnum X”, as he liked to call it. With a sex drive through the roof, but feeling as though he was too good for anywhere there, he grew bored at camp. The frustration in his eyes became evident only on certain days, when he was sure no one was paying attention. But everyone was always paying attention.

And then there was Jim. Sweet, carefree Jim. Who didn’t demand anybody’s attention, but got it anyways. He was the lifeguard at Camp Redwood and instantly caught everyone’s eye the moment he showed up, walking into camp with a friendly smile that was sure to melt the heart of anyone. His white t-shirt hugged his toned chest deliciously while the blue of his denim jacket contrasted with his sun-kissed skin in a way that left everyone in a daze. He radiated warmth and everybody wanted their own piece of Jim’s sunshine. But he never seemed to show an interest in anyone.

With as kind as he was, it was hard having to constantly turn down his admirers the first few weeks of camp. Everybody got the hint shortly after, though, and realized that for whatever reason, he simply wasn’t interested in them. This was an especially difficult and heartbreaking fate to accept for those who were upfront about their feelings and desires to the mysterious brunette. But then Xavier came along and Jim found it almost too easy to give in to the tall blonde who somehow, and may he admit, not-so-subtly, appeared in Jim’s line of sight one day, making a show of manspreading in his tight clothes on a hot, summer day. Everyone at the camp stopped what they were doing and watched as these two men interacted for the very first time. Xavier looked him up and down over the top of his sunglasses and beckoned him over with a slight nod of his head. With his arrogant smile and presumptuous quirk of his brow, Jim didn’t stand a chance.

It was only natural that Xavier and Jim became good friends after that. The blonde had managed to get everything he had ever wanted in life and that included the sweet lifeguard at Camp Redwood. Xavier knew right then and there, when he first saw how the blue in Jim’s eyes shone as bright as the glare off the water while beads of sweat teasingly ran down his toned chest, that he had to have what everyone else so desired. To take him for himself – his own little water boy. He knew then that the whispers he’d heard about this “new Jim” were true and he’d soon have to find a way to dig his claws into him. He knew, however, that being as charming and hot as he was, it wouldn’t be that hard.

And shortly after, they came to be known as the Kings, as it were. Natural leaders who (depending on who you were talking about) either ruthlessly demanded or graciously accepted the attention and power that was bestowed upon them. But you saw them for who they truly were – and you had to admit, you liked it.

And you swore you thought, perhaps they liked you, too. It wasn’t that you were oblivious, it was just that you enjoyed playing their little game. You had noticed the glances, and the flirting. The way they whispered in each other’s ears as they stared you down, the way Jim’s lips turned up in a smirk whenever he caught your eye, and especially the way Xavier repeatedly and passionately brushed up against you in dance class, with his graceful hands placed on your hips and his not-so-subtle bulge rubbing against you, chuckling at the sound of your breath hitching in your threat. You noticed it all and honestly, you enjoyed it all – a little too much. You played hard to get and it only made them crave you more.

And yet, somewhere along the line, you must have faltered in your plan. They must have seen a crack in your façade and sneaked their way in. Because here you were, completely naked and at their mercy, resting your back against Jim’s chest as Xavier stared up at you from in-between your legs.

“Look at our pretty little girl, Jim,” Xavier stared up at the brunette behind you, the blue in his pupils completely dark and wild with lust.

“God, she’s beautiful,” the faintest whisper could be heard against your ear as Jim continued kissing the soft spot on your neck while his hands tenderly massaged your breasts. You three had been at this for an hour now and you were a needy mess, practically begging for your release. You were complete putty in their hands, just how they liked it.

“It took us a hot minute to finally get her, but now look,” Xavier’s voice drawled as he licked and teased your thighs. “She’s all ours.”

Jim couldn’t be bothered to respond with all of his attention focused on leaving as many bruises and red marks as he could on your neck, a subtle reminder to the rest of the camp that you had been claimed. Your soft mewls sounded exactly how he had imagined heaven would sound. He danced his lips across your skin, pinching your nipples every now and then only to smile at the small gasp that would leave your lips. “Such a beauty, X.”

“And look at how fucking wet she is, Jim… and it’s all for us,” he groaned as he dove two of his fingers into your soaked cunt once again, gathering your juices to show his partner. “Such a pretty little slut,” he stared at his glistening fingers, losing his train of thought, while licking his lips.

“Don’t be mean to our new plaything,” Jim spoke up from your neck, massaging your sides to soothe Xavier’s harsh comments. From what you could tell, Jim was the sweeter one. He gave you praise and was gentle with you. He worshipped the body he held in his arms. But Xavier was a different story. You were simply a toy to him, something to play with and use as he wished. He would push you to the edge, seeing how far he could go every time. But he underestimated just how much of a “naughty slut” (his choice of words) you truly were. It was unexpected to say the least. Every time he was rough or degraded you, he was only met with moans and a look that said “give me more”. He knew you were a special one.

“I think she likes it when I’m mean,” he smirked, giving you a wink as he lowered his head and teasingly licked a long stripe up your folds, all the way to your oversensitive clit, sucking harshly and getting lost in the taste of you. “Such a sweet little pussy, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of it,” he whispered to himself, not realizing the other two could hear him.

He took his sweet time with you and you were done with the teasing; you needed him now. It had been an hour of them edging you and you were at your wits end; you didn’t think you could take another second. You reached for his hair and pulled him closer to where you ached for him.

“Don’t touch the hair!” he shot up, looking at you with disgust as he quickly went to fix his slightly tousled locks.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” Jim laughed at the disgruntled man in front of him. “And don’t yell at her like that,” he protectively placed his arm around your waist, making sure you felt safe and cared for. Jim knew how Xavier could be but you were new to the ways of his man and the last thing he wanted was to scare you off. “And honestly, if you’re going to act like that, you can just leave. You’re taking too long with her anyways, I think she needs somebody with a better touch,” Jim said with a smile, clearly looking to challenge the man.

Xavier looked up slowly with icy, blue eyes. “I know you’re not insinuating that you’re better at this than I am,” he said calmly but with a hint of danger tinging his voice.

“Isn’t is entertaining how upset he gets,” Jim whispered in your ear just loud enough for the hot and heavy man to hear, secretly hoping to get him even more riled up. Jim laughed against your skin with his usual boyish charm and you couldn’t help but join him as a giggle escapes your lips.

“Oh, is that funny?” Xavier turned his attention to you and quirked an eyebrow before flashing a smile, his tone as dangerous as the glint in his eyes while he lowered his head once again, inching closer and closer to your core.

“No! I’m sorry,” your laugh betrayed you as his hands continued sliding up your thighs. “Jim didn’t mean it, he was just trying to get under your skin,” the last of your giggles left while he stared up at you, his eyes showing just how hungry with lust he was.

“And how do you know my boy better than I do?” he squinted his eyes at you, while leaning down and playfully biting at your thigh.

“Well technically, now I’m her boy, too,” Jim spoke, smiling down at his lover while he snaked his hand down your stomach. Xavier caught on to how Jim wanted to finish you off and sends a wink his way.

“You two are going to be trouble for me, aren’t you?” Xavier breathes in while shaking his head. You’re too focused on the way Jim keeps lowering his hand, teasing you and getting you all riled up, to suspect what Xavier’s about to do. You wait in anticipation for Jim to put those fingers to good use when Xavier suddenly slaps your cunt harshly. You scream while the arm Jim’s placed around your waist holds you down.

“That’s what dirty little whores get for messing up my fucking hair,” Xavier speaks calmly while gently rubbing soothing circles on your inner thighs. You look back at him in disbelief and anger. Just as you open your mouth to chew him out, he immediately latches onto your clit, causing you to cry out and throw your head back on Jim’s shoulder. Your mind replaces the anger and pain with only pleasure and need.

“Shhh, angel, it’s okay” Jim coos in your ear softly. “And X, we all know you’re the troublesome one here, so enough with the act,” Jim looks down to see the blonde boy smirk against your folds. Jim’s hand finally reaches down to your heat and starts rubbing your clit skillfully. “That’s it, baby. God, you look so beautiful like this.”

Xavier reluctantly pulls himself from your heat, making a show of licking off your arousal that deliciously coats his lips. Quickly, he plunges his two fingers into your aching core, curling them with every thrust and noticing how close you are to your release. “Good god, what a filthy whore you are.” Your eyes are closed in pleasure, but you can hear the smirk evident in his voice. The cockiness and arrogance, it was unrelenting. “Look at how you’re basically fucking yourself on my fingers. Do they really feel that good in your little pussy?” he mocks, a low chuckle leaving his glossy lips – your juices worn like a trophy, another one of his “stories” he’ll most likely share to unsuspecting coworkers in the future. Xavier’s movements suddenly stop and you immediately open your eyes.

“What the hell-“ you start, but are cut off by the blonde below you.

“I asked you a question, pet,” Xavier looks completely unbothered, but his voice grows raspy. He loves this little game of cat and mouse and decides he could play with you forever. He looks at you as if you’re the dullest creature he’s ever come across as he awaits your response, adding an extra touch of arrogance by tapping his fingers on your thigh, to show he was waiting.

“Yes, it feels good,” you spit out through clenched teeth, just giving him what he wants so he can get back to giving you what you want.

“Okay, good. Next time you don’t reply, I’ll just leave you like this,” he graces you with a cocky smile, once again looking unbothered. “I have a million other things I could be doing; I’ll have you know. Making sure precious little Y/N gets her orgasm today isn’t one of them,” his voice says one story, but the way he’s looking at the juices dripping from your core, completely soaking his bed, tells another.

Jim scoffs in your ear, followed by an eye roll. His boy could be so dramatic some times. You don’t even care about what either of them are doing at this point, however, as you feel the arousal in your stomach building to a dangerous level. Jim works his fingers on your clit, rubbing small circles as his lips work wonders on the sensitive parts of your neck. And Xavier’s fingers thrust so deep in you that you swear you’re seeing stars with every thrust.

“That’s a good girl. Cum for us, baby,” Jim coos in your ear, seeing how shaky your legs start to get and how you start to arch your back into him.

“Be a good little slut and soak my fingers just like how you’d soak my cock,” Xavier lets out a low chuckle as he stares you down, noticing the small gasp you make at his lewd comments. Your moans start getting louder as both of them pick up their pace, their primal need to see you cum taking over as they revel in the sweet noises leaving your lips.

Suddenly, the tightly wound coil in you snaps and your orgasm hits you violently. After the both of them edging you for what seems forever, the intense feeling of pleasure overtaking your body is almost hard to grasp. Waves of electricity run through your body as the boys watch in awe. How you throw your head back on Jim and your face contorts in pleasure. How wet and lewd the sound of Xavier thrusting into you suddenly becomes. They notice it all – and they never want it to end.

You start to come down from your high as the pleasure dissolves into you. You think to yourself you could get used to these two, even if they’re a pain in the ass sometimes. Jim holds you close to his body as you try to calm your breathing; he feels as though he never wants to let go of you. You fit so perfectly in his lap and he considers just keeping you in this position forever. Xavier licks his lips and watches closely as your chest rises and falls with each breath; he thinks to himself, although would never admit it to the two in front of him, that this is a sight he’s sure he’ll truly never get tired of.

He reaches in-between your legs and gathers some of your juices on his fingers only to bring them to Jim’s lips, who stares back at him hungrily. You watch as Jim sucks your arousal off of Xavier’s long fingers, a deep groan being heard from the back of his throat, as his eyes close in pleasure. Suddenly, you feel the slight twitch of his cock against your back and it’s only then that you can feel how painfully hard he’s been this whole time. You glance down at Xavier to find that his bulge is extremely prominent in his shorts, as well.

You look between the both of them in anticipation as they turn their focus to you. Xavier grabs your chin and forces you to look at him while a smirk plays across his lips, “Oh, we are going to have some fun with you this summer.”

Taglist:

@mega-combusken, @lathraios, @livocc, @sojournmichael, @no-need-for-rules, @katiekitty261, @ladynuwanda, @hecohansen31, @blakewaterxx, @rosegoldrichie, @langdonsdemon, @fckinsupreme, @wroteclassicaly, @kleineshaschen, @whydonthumansfly, @femaleantichrist, @peachesandfern, @langdonsplaytoy, @liliesandforgetmenots, @langdonswhoreprobably, @langdvnshepherd, @maso-xchrist, @littledemondani, @confettucini, @miami-summer, @peppermint-punk

[thedeeperlayer]

I was fourteen when I first tasted the sweet, aromatic blend of tobacco, sugars, and ammonia compounds. It was 1998. The year of Clinton and Lewinsky. The year the guy from Die Hard was saving the Aerosmith-adjacent Earth from a Michael Bay Meteorite. 

I was fourteen. Instead of navigating the intolerable 3D world of Hyrule in Ocarina of Time, I was out making an imprudent moron out of myself with an RCA Solid State Image Sensor VHS Camcorder. My idiotic entourage and myself thought we were the uproarious epitome of cool. In actuality, we were ridiculous, annoying fuckwits. I was an absolute pain in the ass.

I'm not going to cock and bull with excuses. I started smoking because I thought I was fucking cool. I had older friends that did it and I dated girls that did it. When my mum found out I was flicking the Bic on the cancer stick, she was both disappointed and somewhat content. Her contentment for my lung corruption behavior was only because it meant she now had a smoking mate.

Mum and Pops didn't always have a harmonious relationship. They would cross swords and oppose each other's views a lot. Mum would complain about Pops never being home. Pops would bewail mum's smoking habit. It was always constant repetition down the same path. Dad never knew I smoked. He would of berated mum and blamed her if he ever found out.

Because of our shared toxic pastime, my mum and I became very close. We discussed all things life. Everything from grace and elegance to the septic shithole bottom. We talked about atrocious dislikes and stupefying satisfactions. We told mindless jokes and gave deep-thought opinions. 

For the sake of storytelling length, let's just say we always had each other's back. 

Unfortunately, the clock ticks, and the hours pass. In a blink of an eye, things are different. I grew up. I got married. I moved. Mum was downhearted and sad. I was the first of her children to leave from beneath her roof. 

I've worked lousey, shit jobs just to make ends. It is indeed accordance with fact, smoking does alleviate stress. I didn't think it was cool to smoke anymore, instead I smoked because my shitty job was an emotional mindfuck. Pounding the coffin nails down my throat made me feel better. 

I didn't want to poison my saclike respiratory organs anymore. I tried quitting. I tried the gum that supposedly calms cravings. I tried the rubber band wrist snap when I had the desire. I tried the ridiculous electronic substitutes. Nothing worked. I thought, fuck it. I didn't want to grow old and become one of the dust bags that retire in Florida anyway.

It was October, 2015. I was just finishing a much needed break from my mediocre job. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was mum calling. I contentedly answered it. 

She said she had a mass on her lungs. She told me not to be worried, it could be pneumonia. She said she would let me know more tomorrow. 

I instantly broke down and wailed. I could feel that something was extraordinarily wrong. My heart was in excruciating pain. It was exceedingly difficult to finish my shift that night. Every time I was alone, my eyes would swell. It was a long, tedious night.

The following day, I anxiously waited for mum to call. 

Haplessly, she called right before I had to go to work. She said it was stage 4 lung cancer. She told me not to worry. She said she was going to get help. I knew stage 4 was the inevitable. It's treatable, but not curable.

I was so heartsick.

I lit cigarette after cigarette.

My family was devastated. Mum is the support beam that holds my lunatic family's structure together. My brother and sister were in severe shock. Pops was completely shattered. 

The following week, my wife and I picked mum up from the hospital. She was being fitted for a radiotherapy mask. Mum was spiritless. She lacked vigor and enthusiasm. She looked defeated. This was the one time I convulsively, and uncontrollably sobbed in front of her. If you knew mum, she was always resilient and enduring. She was wholehearted, and a matriarch to many. It was challenging to see her in that frail condition. 

I lit cigarette after cigarette.

Mum had sort of a short fringe hairstyle with spiky bangs. She would ornament it with a decorative headband. Often she would dye it golden or honey blonde to hide the off-putting grays. 

The days passed. Weeks. My wife and I made frequent visits. Mum was sitting in her recently purchased stationary style comfy chair. She was wearing a sun-style flat brim cap. Mum never wore hats. “I'm losing my hair,” she said. She lifted a grocery sac where she was accumulating a large cache of her hair. 

Eventually Pops shaved her head. 

My wife and I purchased her a collection of hats.

The holidays came. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Mum always took pride in cooking the meals. She couldn't anymore. She was too weak. She could hardly walk. It was now Pop's responsibility to  prepare the brown sugar glazed ham. She shouted out the recipe to him in the kitchen. “Heat the honey and sugar until it dissolves!” Pops would earnestly urge her not to yell. She was always short-winded and depended on oxygen gas to breathe.  

Christmas morning was grim. Mum kept saying she wanted to have a nice Christmas. “This might be my last Christmas. I want it to be nice,” she despairingly would say. 

We wore smiles but they were fraudulent. Inside we were somber. Cheerless. Gift exchange was dispiriting. We were appreciative, but it was hard to express it. The only audio in the room was the pulling and shredding of novelty wrapping paper. We played unintellectual board games while Mum sat in the living room and stared at the TV. The Hallmark holiday collection was on but Mum wasn't interested. She was disconnected, absent of response. 

My wife and I went home. I lit cigarette after cigarette.

January came and went. February came. Mum had gotten worse. We went to visit her on my birthday. She was without emotion. Unresponsive. Pops struggled to make her recognize my company. She was comatose-like. Pops was in a panic. We rushed her to the ICU. She now had malignant brain tumors. Her recent actions were symptoms. The drowsiness. The constant agitation. 

She was given enough treatment to restore her moral senses. She asked to see me and my wife. Mum was stretched out on a hospital cot. She was buried beneath intravenous lines and hoses. She saw us and smiled. “Watch this,” she gently said. She proceeded with plucking the pulse oximeter from her finger to mortify the doctors. She still had her sense of humor. 

Later, Nurse Ratched impertinently pulled my family away from Mum. She disrespectfully spoke of Mum's unavoidable fate. Ratched told us that Mum will die. She told us to make sure we make the correct decision when the time comes. 

No one in my family wanted to hear that. 

The hospital discharged Mum.

My wife and I went home. I lit a cigarette. I took a drag, hardly inhaling. I breathed in a few more. 

I delve into searches about the great demise on Google. I’m not one who appreciates surprises, so I wanted to be hauntingly prepared. 

As the end approaches, your role is to be present, provide passionate comfort, and remove doubts from your loved one with soothing words and loving actions that help maintain their mental ease and dignity.

The entire evening I fixedly scrutinized my phone screen. It made me overwhelmed with grief. It put me in an unsettling place. It was that night that I accepted that my Mum was actually going to be gone.

Her condition continued to worsen.

It was difficult for her to digest food. She no longer could intake any solids. Pops couldn’t accept the harshness of the situation. He was in rack and ruin. Blatantly, he would hurry to the nearest fast-food establishment and order her a strawberry milkshake. In double time he would speed home to give her the malted treat. She would fiercely vacuum in the strawberry drink through a straw. Clearly she was hungry, but her gasping, pain and abnormal breathing patterns made it difficult for her to swallow. 

Pops told me, the prior evening, he strenuously got Mum into the loo. He proceeded to aid her, however she immediately denied his assistance. “Let me help you,” he despairingly said. “But you're a boy and I'm a girl,” she woefully baffled. 

Delirium. One of the common symptoms observed near death. 

Pops was hysterical. This unforeseen responsibility was so unfamiliar to him. He was terrified. He was frightened to lose the one person he spent his entire life with. 

Again he rushed her to intensive care.

My wife and I were at home. I lit a cigarette. I took a drag and quickly put it out.

Mum was denied anymore treatment. She was recommended hospice care and medically necessary equipment for at-home use. 

Pops thought hospice may not only be valuable to Mum, but also beneficial to him because the workers could assist him through the inexperience and unexpected. We all knew what misery and despair would come next, but Pops was in a idiosyncratic denial. 

Hospice was fucking useless, but more on that a little later.

My wife and I visited her everyday. 

Each day she worsened and disintegrating. 

She was often confused. She would appear asleep, but her breathing would be noisy, congested. She would appear peaceful and at rest, and within seconds she would begin screaming. She would holler agonizing cries. Dad would have to pump her with morphine to tranquilise her treacherous pain.

Day after day, her conditioned intensified. Her skin's pigment distorted to a grayish tone. Her face had depressed and sunken below her eyes. Her lips dried up and shriveled. 

The drainage bag connected to the catheter began to fill with a rust color. 

She had abnormal growths swell in unusual parts of her body.

Day after day we visited. She no longer would move. The congested breathing was the remaining sign of life. We attentively watched over her like this for days. She didn't want to go. She dearly loved her family. The Oncologist asked her, “what do you live for?” Her response was so straightforward and emotionally rewarding. She said, “my family”. Mum was uncomplicated. She lived to be a loving mum and caring wife. She always put her family first. That's who she was. 

She died on August 22, 2016. She battled cancer for seven months. She spent nearly four weeks in hospice care. Only four short instances was Hospice workers available for aid, one of the times being immediately after death. The available nurse plucked an orange Marigold from the neighbors’ garden and lied it in my Mum's cold hands. She called the Funeral Home to coordinate arrangements for pickup and hastily left. 

It was a horrifying experience for my family. Not only for us observing every nightmarish minute, but for Mum too. I can't imagine how afraid she was and how she felt. I just hope it wasn't guilt that resonated with her in her final days. She was the reason my family was so profound and passionate about things. The reason we were all there, again and again, expressing our sorrow and love together.

I haven't smoked a cigarette since her later days in hospice care. 

She was a beautiful, loving person, and we watched her severely weaken and diminish largely because of a lifelong bad habit. I never want to put anyone I love through that, ever again.