#but the man had insight oh yes

[peterlorrefanpage]

That's our man, oh yes, Peter Lorre

The injury brought [ice skater Belita] to America, her mother having learned of a back specialist in Los Angeles. The legit doctor was a bust- but Peter Lorre recommended a veterinarian who hung Belita heels-over-head from a meat hook, a remedy the vet used for animals. She was skating again weeks later.

Imagine you're injured and Peter Lorre suggests you hang upside down from a meat hook. And it works.

[5sospenguinqueen]

The Wrong Bull | Mark Webber x Interviewer! Reader

Summary: Mark was enjoying a private relationship with his favourite F1 interviewer. Until the internet started shipping you with his biggest rival

Warnings: Malaysia 2013. A lot of fabrication ie made up insta names. Swearing. Suggestive content. Indulgent blurb because who doesn’t like the idea of needy/possessive Mark. 

Requested: No

F1 Masterlist

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its_yn just posted

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its_yn happy malaysia grand prix weekend! i’m very happy to be in the paddock this weekend bringing you the insight on how our eleven teams are doing

6,622 comments

danielricciardo can’t wait to see you. always bring me the most interesting questions

→ its_yn and you always bring me the most random answers

user1 my fave interviewer. i love the way she lovingly bullies the drivers. they’re always so engaging with her

jensonbutton now that’s a handsome man

→ its_yn thank you, i try 

→ danielricciardo but i’m the one with random answers?

user2 i’m so happy you’re in the paddock. you have the best rapport with the drivers and always have the best interviews with them

skysportsf1 when all the drivers beg for you to be there, we can’t say no

→ its_yn aw, you guys. i knew you loved me really

→ sebastianvettel of course. the prettiest interviewer we have

→ user3 oh, well then, get in there vettel

→ user4 sebastian making his move

user5 vettel winning on and off the track

user6 no way he bagged the hot sky sports presenter

user7 okay but the way she was smiling at him

→ user8 and the way he looked at her? talk about heart eyes

user9 if they need a third or a dog, i can bark

user10 ngl i thought jenson button was going to win her over

user11 okay, let’s chill a second guys. they just entered the paddock together

→ user12 we might be seeing the beginning of their relationship! how can any of us be calm. used to pray for times like these 

→ user13 yes but we don’t want to scare them off before we get confirmation

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Back resting against the wall of Mark's driver room, legs curled beneath you, you flipped through your notebooks. Going through your notes, you occasionally jotted something down, deeming it worthy of potentially mentioning during any interviews later. The sound of the lock turning had your head snapping up in time to see Mark's tall stature fill the doorframe. His eyes landed on you instantly, and he wriggled through the small gap he had created, blocking you from view of whoever was on the other side. A few short sentences later, Mark had managed to provide an adequate excuse to be alone. The door shut with a quiet click and Mark assured you it was locked.

"What are you doing here?" Mark questioned, the soft smile on his face assuring he wasn't opposed to the sight of you in his room. "Shouldn't you be out bothering more important people?"

"More important than you?" You shot back. "I've been put in charge of the post-race interviews today so I've got a bit of a break."

Mark took note of your jacket hanging on the back of his door, and your shoes at the foot of his massage table. His things surrounded by your things. And he was warmed by how comfortable you were here. In an endeavour to find some peace admit the chaos of the paddock, you took refuge in his room. The notion stoked the little fire of possessiveness within him.

"So, you're just going to hide out here until the race?"

Your pile of snacks, the circle of papers around you, and his jumper hanging from your frame told him all he needed to know. He just wanted - no, needed - to hear you say it. Especially after he'd overheard some of the drivers teasing Vettel during the Parade. About you, and the internet's speculations. And how if the German ended up on the podium, then how could the "pretty interviewer" say no to a date. So, regardless of the fact that it was his name and number splashed across your body, he still needed to hear you say it. To confirm that you were his and his alone.

"Until I'm needed, then yes," you smiled, watching as he slowly approached.

The white fireproof clinging to his muscular arms flexed as he placed them on either side of you. His race suit was wrapped around his waist precariously, looking ready to fall apart with a slight tug.

He angled his head down towards you, cheeks dimpling when he grinned. "And if I say you're needed right now?"

Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him down to close the small gap he had left between you. "What exactly am I needed for, Mr Webber?"

His eyes darted down to your mouth, watching as your tongue darted out to wet your lips. Before you could register that he'd moved, his mouth was on yours, moving against you and swallowing your surprised squeak. His arms wound themselves around your midsection, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body pressed into you instantly, and you melted into his touch.

Sliding your hands into his hair, you tugged at the short strands so as to pull him off you in order to catch your breath. As he didn't need oxygen more than he needed you, Mark's lips continued moving. His lips moved across your jaw, under your ear and down to the fluttering pulse in your neck, leaving a fiery path as he moved. A whimper was pulled from you when he sucked gently, your back arching into him. Paper crinkled beneath you when he lowered you onto the bed.

"Mark," you moaned, "you don't have time."

"Shh," he whispered against your skin, crawling atop you, trapping you between his body and the massage table. It have a groan of protest but he paid it no mind.

Not when your hands slid under his fireproofs, stroking the heated skin of his abdomen before trailing lower. With one pull, the knot of his race gave way, removing the cushioning that had prevented his hard length from pressing into you. A throaty groan escaped him when you rolled your hips against him.

Mark chuckled at your sudden eagerness. "What happened to not having enough time?"

"You shouldn't be so tempting."

Knowing that you craved him as much as he did you had Mark reconnecting your lips, moving with more fervour. Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slide against yours. His hips jerked against you when you pulled his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking gently. Mark's hands slid down your hips, reaching around to palm your ass and pull you flush against him. The throbbing in his underwear intensified.

Two sharp raps on the door made your eyes snap open, fear flitting across your face when the door handle rattled. Mark pressed closer to you once more; not in lust but worry that someone would see you in the dishevelled state he had created. That was a sight for his eyes only.

Another knock came before a deep voice called out for the driver. "Christian wants to see you for a pre-race chat."

"What, now?"

"Yeah."

Mark groaned before looking down at you. Lipstick smeared, cheeks flushed and blotches darkening on your neck. He wasn't sure he could go outside. The image of you like this would stay with him, making him strain against the fabric of his suit.

"Go, my love," you whispered, tying his suit back around his waist, ensuring the arms carefully concealed the problem you had created. "And try not to collide with your teammate."

Well, the mention of his biggest rival this year was one way to soften him.

"You'll still be here when I get back? Before I jump in the car?" He pleaded.

He knew the answer. Of course he did. The routine had been the same for the past two years but, as before, he needed the verbal reassurance.

"And why would I do that?" You teased, snickering when the 6'1 man in front of you started to pout.

"Because how else would I get my pre-race kiss?"

"You could away ask Vettel."

The look on Mark's face turned from faux sadness to something much darker. You yelped when his teeth sunk into your neck before he pressed a soothing kiss on the mark he'd left (yes, I laughed at that). Shooting you a wink, he dashed out the door, and you were left alone once more.

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user1 seb really turned on the charm with this one

→ user2 he got away with defying team orders, won the race, and decided to win the girl 

user3 they would make such a cute couple though

user4 idk how yn managed to keep her calm, interviewer face on because if 3x wdc winner sebastian vettel spoke to me like that, i’d be giggling and twirling my hair fr

user5 okay i wasn’t a fan of the sebastian/yn train earlier but this interview may have convinced me 

user6 i love how she’s trying to stay unbiased but you can see that she’s impressed with vettel’s racing today 

→ user7 i actually thought she was a bit short with him for a change

→ user8 no i agree. her energy felt off. usually she laughs when they’re flirting

user9 did anyone else see webber watching them in the background?

→ user10 vettel needs to sleep with one eye open

user11 everyone talking about sebyn but i swear she kept looking behind him at mark

→ user12 mark defo smiled at her when they made eye contact 

→ user13 bfr, she’s clearly into seb here 

f1 just posted

liked by its_yn, redbullracing and others

f1 and it’s a 1-2 for red bull! oh, sorry, was that meant to say 2-1? 

9,222 comments

redbullracing that’s our bulls

→ user1 i didn’t realise we celebrated defying team orders

→ user2 oh please. sebastian was faster. mark needs to just accept that 

its_yn well done, team red bull

→ user3 it’s okay, sis. you can say well done to the love of your life for winning 

→ user4 vettel getting a celebration better than a champagne shower later 

user5 f1 is foul for this lmao 

→ user6 love how they used the pics where mark looks the most pissed off

sebastianvettel very good race. well done, team 

→ user7 he sounds so polite like he’s not a certified track terror 

user8 i’m in love with admin today. they knew what they were doing with this caption 

jensonbutton has anyone heard from mark since the podium?

→ fernandoalonso he’s yapping my ear off until all the conferences are done

user9 poor mark. he looked ready to throttle seb when they were doing interviews

→ user10 omg was that the one where seb was flirting with yn??

→ user9 yes! webber was stood behind him looking murderous. so hot 

user11 not to be one of those but i saw yn comforting mark after the race

→ user12 before or after her flirty interview with seb? 

→ user13 not fans trying to push yn and webber based on their 3 interactions when all this seb and yn content is right there

user1 sorry but no one can convince me that she didn’t just have a celebration romp with vettel

→ user2 yes! got to celebrate his win properly haha

→ user3 when he asked if she had plans later knowing she’d end up in his driver’s room

user4 dishevelled clothes, messy hair and her red lipstick from the morning gone? did someone say driver’s room sex

user5 she really does look like she got dicked down good 

user6 it’s the fact that almost everyone from the garage has left and she still got caught, bless her

user7 no because imagine angry sex with mark webber after that race

→ user8 oof, i never saw mark that way before but his face on that podium has me feeling some kind of way 

→ user9 i love how everyone is thinking of seb and your magnificent brain thought of mark

→ user7 i’m just saying, if i had to pick between the blonde twink or the angry, tall aussie, i know who i’m going with 

user10 okay but imagine it was mark’s room she snuck out from. seb stole his win so mark stole his crush 

→ user11 revenge, hate sex 

user12 did anyone else see the two marks on her neck during the interviews earlier though? i don't think post-race was the first taste miss thing got today

user13 damn, i always thought vettel would be good but he looks like he did a number on her 

markwebber just posted

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markwebber please can you stop "shipping" her with the wrong bull. she’s mine

7,012 comments

its_yn and has happily been yours for two wonderful years

→ user1 they’ve been together for two years?!

→ user2 excuse me, two years and they kept it from everyone?! 

fernandoalonso does this mean i lose elite status as the only one who knows?

→ jensonbutton you knew! 

→ lewishamilton of course he knew. although i feel a little blindsided 

user3 no because i was fighting in the trenches for mark and yn whilst y’all were pushing the sebyn agenda

user4 who taught him to take the most romantic photos ever

→ markwebber yn did

→ its_yn i trained him good, ladies, so back off

redbullracing members of the garage have asked that you keep any noise in the driver’s room to a minimum. please and thanks

→ user5 so she did get her back blown out after the race by angry mark

→ user6 living my dream

→ its_yn i see you. he’s not for you anymore

jensonbutton genuinely did not see this coming. ngl, i was convinced yn was with seb

→ redbullracing so did we. we got sucked into all the twitter theories. they made a convincing case

→ its_yn @/redbullracing we had to disclose our relationship to you?

→ redbullracing i know. that’s how convincing they were

→ markwebber @/christianhorner how do i file a complaint about admin

user7 the height difference between them 🥰

→ user8 the height difference between them 🥵

danielricciardo well, there go my chances 

→ markwebber you’re too young for her, mate

→ danielricciardo yes but clearly she has a thing for aussies

→ its_yn just the one ;)

user9 no wonder he was angry. seb stole his win and then poor mark had to watch him flirt with his girl

→ user10 and watch as the entire internet shipped his girlfriend of two years with that win-stealing man 

sebastianvettel oh

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requests are open. i promise your requests are on the way. i'm just slow haha

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

A Week (He Will Take You)

~

Danny moved to Gotham for school, while there he noticed that Gotham's ambient ecto was really murky for lack of a better word.

This didn't really affect him too much besides a mild headache every once in a while but that also just might be stress from all his school work so maybe not.

Anyway

This murky ecto seemed to effect the people who lived there or more importantly the ghosts,

They were visible to the human eye like most ghosts back in Amity but instead of looking very much like a ghost they still looked like humans if a bit off putting.

They all seemed to be continuing their normal lives as if still fully alive, with the people around them none the wiser.

Danny noticed this and began approaching them to figure out what was going on.

Apparently the murky ecto in the city had made it so that they were strong enough to still continue a somewhat normal life but not be able to cross over to the GZ.

In other words they were stuck in Gotham

Danny was the Ghost King so he could easily fix this problem, all he needed to do was give them a bit of pure ecto for around a week to fully stabilize them them then he would just open a portal into the GZ and they could cross over with all their things also transferring into the GZ for their new haunt.

Unfortunately this looked rather worrying to an outsider,

Imagine you're used to your neighbor being very outgoing so you and others see them a lot suddenly this man seems to appear in their life out of nowhere an at exactly one week, your neighbor and all their belongings in their home disappear no trace to be found.

You tell people and they begin saying the same story they knew someone and them a man with black hair and blue eyes appeared in their life, then they and all their things disappear in exactly one week.

Of course the police in Gotham do the bare minimum so they're no help.

But it starts to begin a trend, especially online.

"Oh careful or the blue eyed man will make you disappear in a week"

This of course after time catches the bats attention, Gordon had already given them all the information he had.

"Young adult early twenties, dark hair, blue eyes"

That was it.

The bats look into it and from their point of view Danny is a serial killer.

But they can't find the connection between all of his victims, they range from young children and the elderly from different backgrounds absolutely no connection,

Worrying enough he doesn't just make one person disappear he has taken entire families up to over a dozen, without anyone figuring out how he's doing it or why at all.

The disturbing thing also being that he seems to take everything in their home, leaving it like it has always been empty

Like no one had been living in it.

People have tried to take photos of Danny get some kind of evidence of his existence, but when they try to do it, it either comes out completely corrupted or their devise simply shuts down fully.

Danny of course has no clue what is happening he's just happy that he's able to help so many ghosts, and is trying not to fail his exams.

~

Danny leaving the house he just helped: "That went easier than I expected!"

Neighbor peeking from the window: "Shit it's that guy! "

~

Red Hood marching down into the cave: " The fucker took many from my territory without me even realizing it!"

~

Tim: "I'm pretty sure his kill count is nearing the hundreds and he just started like maybe 4 months ago, this is bad."

Barbara: " I think I got a theory, this matches up with the new school year beginning so maybe their not a Gotham native which narrows down my suspect list."

Bruce: "Hn."

Tim: "Yes thank you B for the insightful commentary"

~

Danny trying not to fall asleep while on his way to class: "Strange I keep seeing shadows following me, oh well must be the stress!"

Bats who are pretty sure Danny is the killer: "Has he done anything suspicious yet?"

~

Just an Idea

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour.

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: You’ve been very intrested in Alastor ever since you met him. He invites you to see his recording studio, which you accept. Then you ask if you can stay and listen to him host! While listening, you fall asleep. How does he react?

Word count: 2844

Warnings: Ummm not really much? Alastor being Alastor! One mention of not being able to sleep sometimes, mention of seeing people in hell doing dr*gs, k*lling eachother, and fighting, mention of reader having bad social skills (?)

part two

A/N: UM!! this is my first time writing for alastor, so apologies if it isn’t the best. Please give me any feedback you want, I’d love to hear it! Also sorry for any spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoy :’)

Alastor the radio demon. You know of the things he’s done, you know that people are quite literally terrified of him. But for some reason... you feel a certain way towards him that you can’t describe, but it’s surely not fear.

You’ve had a some-what odd admiration of him since you landed in hell, only a few months ago. You got spotted by Charlie when you first got to hell. She noticed you looking around nervously and lost, and put two and two together that you must be new. She very kindly introduced herself which was refreshing because.. well.. it’s hell. Everywhere you looked people were fighting, doing drugs, and even killing each other. You were glad there were kind people even down here.

“Hi, you! Uh, you lost?” Charlie smiled you and waved.

“Um yeah! I’m guessing this is hell, huh?” You awkwardly chuckle. Social skills weren’t ever your thing, it seems they haven’t got better after you died, either.

“Yep! This is hell! You must be new? I’m Charlie! Charlie Morningstar. It’s so nice to meet you.” She smiled and stuck out her hand for you to shake.

“Nice to meet you, Charlie! My names Y/n.” You politely smiled back and shook her hand.

After that meeting, Charlie showed you to the hotel in which you eagerly accepted to stay at, her being the only sane thing you’ve seen down here. It was a pretty nice place, no 5 star hotel like back on earth, but it was something you’re very grateful for. Who knows what would’ve happened to you if you haven’t met her.

While she was showing you around, someone caught your eye. He was a tall man, very polite and respectful looking. He was dressed head to toe in old fashioned attire, with a cane to suit his charming look. He was smiling in a way that made you look at him like he was something you wanted to inspect under a magnifying glass.

He glanced at you and smiled larger, stepping over to you and Charlie.

“My, my! What do we have here? Charlie! You didn’t tell me that we’ve got more guests? It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear! The names Alastor!” He spoke politely.

His voice was sort of.. Radio-like? You found it soothing.

“Haha yeah! I found them wandering around on the street this morning! They’re a newcomer, their name is Y/n.” She spoke back, excited to introduce you.

“Y/n! Well, my, my. That’s quite a lovely name!” He said. “Say.. do you listen to radio? I host a brilliant radio broadcast that’ll give you some real insight on this place!” He said enthusiastically.

“Oh.. haha thank you” You smile. “I do actually! I love radio shows.” You immediately feel drawn towads him. You cant tell if it’s just the new scenery or what.. but you want to just sit and chat with him for hours.

Alastor perks up at that. “Oh you do, do you?” He smiled more.

“Yeah! Back when I was.. uhm.. alive, I actually had a whole playlist of them! What do you do your show about?” You ask.

Alastor is delighted to have you take interest in his show. “Well, dear, I do all sorts of things on there! Yes, yes, you think of it and I’ve most probably done it! Most commonly known is the souls I entrap and prison, as I broadcast their screams of horror all over this horrible place and people get to hear the noises of their never-ending torture and demise. But! I also just made a wonderful segment on my mother’s Jambalaya recipe!” He stated.

While part of those sentences gave you chills, you still seemed to take interest in him.

“Well,” you chuckle. “I will certainly check it out!” You smile.

“Ah! Wonderful news, my dear.” He said while he twirled his cane.

Charlie was watching you interact with him and noticed how you looked at him, as if admiring. She smile and said, “well! We better finish the tour.”

She motions for you to follow her and you do, waving Alastor goodbye.

He waves back and yells, “goodbye, sweetheart! Lovely to have met you.”

After that, you wanted absolutely everything to do with him. You’ve also got to know the other people staying at the hotel. Angel, Vaggie, Husk, Niffty, and Sir Pentious. They were overall kind people. Husk found your interest in Alastor to be no good.

“Yeah, no. That, whatever thing you have created in your mind about him, isn’t true. He’s vile, Y/n. Trust me on that.” He grunts.

Angel thought you had some kind of kink towards “scary, creepy men.” Which wasn’t true because you didn’t even find him scary. You found him charming.

“Ah.. Alastor? Fucking sexy weirdo if I do say so myself. He’s got some reaaal problems but hey, if you’re into that-“ You cut him off by saying it wasn’t like that & that you don’t think anything sexual towards him.

One day, you were talking to Sir Pentious about his “crush” on Cherry Bomb. He completely denied it but you could tell from his blush and his nervous demeanour that he was very interested in her.

You were caught off guard when you heard that radio voice coming up from behind you.

“Y/n, my dear! I have a question for you.” Alastor came and stood beside you, looking down from where you’re sitting.

“Al! Hey, what’s up?” You ask, containing your excitement.

Sir Pentious excused himself quickly, seeing one of his “egg boys” were being played with by Niffty. She isn’t one to be gentle.

“So, I know how you’ve been listening to my radio show as of late, and I was wondering if you’d like to see where the magic happens!” He states.

“R-really? I’d be honoured!” You say, smiling.

“Ah! Lovely. Come now, this way.”

You get up and he locks arms with you and chats about his new microphone that he got.

Once you guys arrive, you’re shocked. It looks very professional and comfortable. It suits him heavily. There’s a big open window, a desk, some chairs and sofas, a bunch of technical stuff on the desk along with his new mic that you recognize from his descriptions, and a deer coat hanger?

“Wow, Alastor. This place is so actually so sick. I love it. And the new microphone suits you!” You say. “Thank you for showing me, really.”

Typically, Alastor would never show someone something personal of his, including his studio, but you are an exception. He isn’t sure what it is about you but he doesn’t seem to hate you as much as he does with anyone else. At first he was weirded out, but now he just embraces it. He also feels protective of you. He doesn’t know exactly why you’re even down here. For as far is he can tell, you’re an angel. Always being kind even to those who aren’t kind to you, always saying “please” and “thank you,” all that jazz. Jazz! You even like jazz music, his favourite. He told you that he lived on earth the time jazz music was popular. The 20’s and 30’s. That explains his vocabulary and how he dresses. You just find it more interesting and take time to ask questions about what it was like in that time.

“Why of course, my dear! If I’d want to show anyone here, it would be you.” He says, giving you his iconic smile.

You have a thought. “Hey, Al? Would it be alright if the next time you do a show, I could stay and listen?”

You hope he doesn’t think this is odd.

Alastor raises a brow. “Why would you want to do that?” He asks.

You panic, thinking you went too far by asking and now he’s going to cut you off or something.

“Ha! Kidding, sweetheart! Of course you can. I love when my broadcast is wanted to be listened to. Though I love it as well when they don’t want to.” He says.

You’re relieved, a bit scared, but still relieved.

“Say!” He says. “I was going to make one tonight talking about this silly technology box that thinks he is better than me! You know, expose all his lies and secrets to my listeners, and unwilling listeners. Maybe broadcast it all throughout hell!” He starts laughing manically. Then calms down and stares at you.

“Would you want to stay and listen, hm? I can do it now! I didn’t have any plans today going forward and well, getting it out sooner is better than later, I always say.” He asks.

You know he’s talking about Vox when he mentioned the technology box. Him and Vox have a sort of rivalry going on. Though Alastor seems to not care much about him, Vox is sure obsessed. He’s even gone so far as to making posters about him. Which areee.. not much of a resemblance.

This offer strikes you and you immediately perk up. “Yes! I’d love to.” You say.

You don’t think Alastor knows this but whenever you’re struggling to sleep, you put on his radio show and his voice comforts you to sleep. You’re sure if you told him, he would find it weird.

Little did you know, Alastor already knew. He walked past your room one night and heard static sounds coming from your quarters. He immediately was intrigued and put his ear close to your door to hear his voice. He was surprised, but not weirded out. He found it delightful that you found comfort in his voice. It’s not everyday someone does. Usually it invokes terror and anxiety on anyone who hears. This was new, and he didn’t hate it.

“Lovely! Let me get all set up. You can sit wherever you feel the most comfortable!” He says, adjusting his mic and pressing a buttons on his table.

You find a spot and sit down. Feeling honored to even be in the same room as him, let alone HIS room.

“Ahem! Welcome ladies and gentlemen-“ He goes off into his introduction, before winking at you and starting.

After about 20 minutes, you begin to feel tired and put your head on the side of the wall, still listening but with your eyes closed.

Alastor immediately notices and smirks, knowing how his voice effects you. He continues on and after about another 20 minutes, he finishes up. You’re asleep, slightly smiling.

He walks over to you and looks down.

“My, my. You really are an interesting one, aren’t you?” He whispers. He smiles more softly than he usually does and looks around to find a purple blanket hanging on his deer coat hanger, and gently places it on you.

He feels his heart fluttering while looking down at you and he immediately shrugs it off.

“Mm well, my dear.. I guess you can stay here. I’ll just be over there, transferring my broadcast to the other radios around town.” He says and points to his table.

“Sleep well, amour.” He speaks softly.

[on-leatheredwings]

Checkmate

Yandere! Tim Drake / (AFAB) Reader

> romantic, rated M > tw/cw: yandere-typical behaviors (obsession). M rating is for a boner. just some sexual tension. reader is mentioned as bisexual.

> summary: Intellectually, Tim falls fast. Romantically, he falls hard. Seems this time it's both. > a/n: i just wanted to post some tim practice, pls let me know if i did okay. I made him a bit of a fuckboy i guess but ngl i think tim’s just run through af 😭 > word count: 1268

Tim likes you. And knowing himself, soon, he’s going to really like you.

More than anticipated, too. He didn’t think he’d have much of an opinion at all on you, when you had first met on your first day, in your new position as his personal assistant.

Personal assistant. 

At the reveal, he exchanged a hard look with Bruce across the room. Tim Drake had not been slacking on the job. And sometimes he had the eye bags to prove it.

Tim hadn’t even said anything yet, when you chirped, “Think of it as delegation.”

You gave him a pleasant, albeit cheeky look – which he respected. If you had the qualifications and enough charm to impress the hiring manager, who was a notorious hardass in interviews, you were probably fine. Probably more than fine.

Either way, he expected to forget your existence until you texted or called him to remind him about meetings he hadn’t forgotten about.

It turns out, you had… personality. Probably more than you should’ve, working in the professional setting of Wayne Enterprises. You dealt with Tim’s shit (absences, excuses), but gave as good as you got (ultimatums, thinly-veiled blackmail to run and tell Bruce). You were also… very attractive. And clever. And smart. And insightful.

And God, he wonders if you have a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Partner. And he wonders if he can somehow orchestrate a breakup. 

Tim moves a chess piece across the board. 

Okay, maybe he’s being too hasty. 

Oh, for the love of– you know what? No, he isn’t being too hasty. Anyone working in such close quarters with the heir apparent of Wayne Enterprises is heavily vetted. But it’s about time he did his own background check on you. He has made it three whole months without doing so. 

See, he really is getting over his control issues. Eat that, Stephanie.

Okay, if he’s going to entertain the idea of courting you– Wait, wait, since when was it courting? Yeah, no. He’s merely entertaining the thought of you. He’s been burned too many times now to start courting.

Let’s talk about having sex first before we start talking about dating, he jests with himself.

Anyway. He wonders what would be the most interesting means of going about this. Coming out and confessing would be a little boring. Too easy. His eyes wander to your lips. You’re too focused on making your next move to notice him ogling the soft swell of your chest beneath a sharp button-up. You’ve rolled up the sleeves – very casual for this very casual hangout. You both lounge on your bed, in your bedroom, in your apartment, because if Tim wins, you don’t get to hound him on personally contacting investors. (Sometimes, you gotta leave malcontents out to dry. Make them miss you.)

He hopes you like being experimented with. Or maybe you like experimenting on others. He would do anything you liked because, man, it’s thrilling to know people and their wants. Anything you give, he could take it–

Tim startles as a realization comes to his mind. 

… Him. Taking it.

Is that something he wants? To bottom for you? … Is that something… he wants? 

Yes.

Now that the idea has been conceived, yes, he wants that. So that’s that. 

The reality of whether you’d want to do that… is slim… maybe? You’re bi as well. Maybe that changes things. He’s not going to think about it too hard, because now he’s getting excited.

Tim would love for the skittering, synapses-firing-on-all-cylinders effect in his brain to cool down – for everything to wash over with cool calculation and academic interest. He manages to do that much for even the most intriguing cases. But you… Tim sighs.

And now he’s hard.

Tim shifts uncomfortably. He’s lying on his stomach, held up by his forearms. 

He sighs, even though there’s an evil piece of his brain snickering and taunting, “But you love this, though!” Evil, evil.

At Tim’s increasing silence, you lift a brow. Man, he’s been out of it all game.

“Tim?” He comes back to planet Earth. “It’s your move. Again.” You wear a Cheshire grin. “It’s almost like we’re taking turns, or something.”

He blinks, baby blue eyes clearing up. He shifts in his spot, feeling trills of pleasure from friction against erection. Your sheets. Against his erection. He bites back a smile. Okay, yes, he loves this. He likes hiding like this, right under your nose.

Him getting a boner was a development he had foreseen coming ten minutes ago, once he started daydreaming about you. So he just went ahead and casually switched positions. A risk, but a calculated one. He was pretty sure there’d be no reason for him to get up and expose the tent in his jeans. And boy does he love it when he’s right.

Tim goes to move another piece, when he glances up at you and nearly goes slack-jawed. You don’t meet his eyes. Instead, you wet your lips, seemingly meditating on something.

You meditate on him. After all, Tim is so… pretty. Pretty in a way unlike the rest of his gorgeous brothers. He has pretty eyes framed by dark lashes and a smaller frame, though he’s deceptively muscled under the clean-cut slacks and button ups. He has silky black hair that often falls into his eyes; a defined jaw. And pale skin. He is notably the palest in his family, burning miserably on beach days. It is that pale skin, contrasted so sharply with his dark green tee, that brings your eyes to his collarbones.

Tim nearly erupts.

Fuck, yes. He caught you staring. It takes him self-restraint not to puff out his chest or try to show more skin, lest he reveal his hard-on.

You snap out of it only moments after he notices, grin returning to your face.

“You know if you lose focus like that, I’m going to win,” you tease, almost childlike mischief in your expression. 

Tim so badly wants to parrot the words back at you, but he doesn’t want to scare you into never checking him out ever again. The little inch you just gave him– oh, he intends to take a mile. Whatever small acquiesces you give in the future, he knows he’ll take that and much more.

Now, he’s hungry for you. As soon as this game is done, he’s going to create a new case study file, just for you. He could start kicking his feet at the thought, he's that excited. He’s excited! 

He’ll put the pedestrian, basic stuff like your height, weight, alma mater, major, past jobs and experiences. Somehow get into your social media that’s all on private mode to see what you’re always laughing at on that damn phone. He’s also going to bring up your phone records, go through your email, go through your physical mail. Oh, fuck, surveillance. He’s already in your room, too, luckily. If only he had more of his bugs on hand… The ones he always keeps in his belt buckle will do for now. Also, Tim needs to think of some way to acquire your breast, waist, and hip size – he has a good idea of those measurements, but he wants to know. When is the next time you’ll be out of the house and not at work, he wonders–

“Tim,” you whine, impatient. The sound is music to his ears.

Tim’s eyes rise from the board to your pouting face, and he smiles apologetically. Suddenly, your face dawns with disbelief and indignance.

Tim swiftly picks up one last piece and knocks one yours over.

“Checkmate.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Death Wish 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, violence/abuse and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Bucky Barnes

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you’re desperate for a way out of your life and you ask a powerful man for help (plus!reader)

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Photo Inspo

"Hm, not that one. Dear, I think the last one was it. Perfectly traditional, without being stuffy," Winnifred insists.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. Your pick is everything you prefer. Simple and easy. Not uncomfortable. Not fussy laces or elaborate beading and endless skirts. Just a dress.

Of course, it wouldn't be good enough for a king. Nor his mother. You temper your disappointment. You assume that will need to become a habit. Your opinion, as always, is secondary.

"I suppose it it a bit plain," you agree, "sure. We can go with the last one."

"Are you sure?" Kitty pushes her shoulders up as she slides to the edge of the seat.

"Yes, it's fine," you assure her.

"Congratulations," the associate steps forward. "Shall we get you back in it?"

"No, you can just put in the order," you say. You are in no rush to have her ream on those laces again.

"Of course, you've had a long day," she agrees sheepishly, if not with a hint of surprise. Eight hours is a long day. Too long to spend in a shop. "You should ring the bell. Since you found your dress."

"The bell?" You question then glance over at the other women. "Okay."

The associate flits off and you stand listless in the dress you'll mourn with your previous life. When she returns, she has a big golden bell. She gives you a speech about your happy day and hands it over. You give it a jingle then just as quickly give it back.

"You sure you don't want to try it on again?" Winnifred asks.

You shake your head, "sorry, it's been a long few days."

"Oh, yes, our condolences," Rebecca intones. "Mother, I think Bucky might already have a few words for us for keeping his bride so long already."

"Yes, despite my best efforts, he can be a greedy little boy," Winnifred laughs.

You attempt a smile. You can imagine it's more of a quiver in your lips. Winnifred stands, the other women as well, your sisters hesitant. The three of you are cautiouslt wading through this new world. One where you're no long insignificant. The threat of your father's disapproval has been replaced by a greater one.

You did this. You and your selfish impulsivity. You could excuse yourself for fear or desperation, but you can blame yourself just as much for not thinking out the consequences. Not that you could ever guess they would involve a white gown and diamond ring.

There is some chatter as you are taken back to the lobby. Winnifred attends to the payment as you retreat in embarrassment. Your sisters exchange a none-so-subtle look of concern.

"Well then, girls," the matriarch turns with an accomplished sigh, "allow us to escort you love bridesmaids home." She declares, "I believe you," she stops in front of you and takes your hand, "are due to meet your beloved. Do tell my son I send my tidings. Certainly it won't be long until I might do so myself."

Your sisters stir nervously. You glance at them and nod. Just do what you're told. It's always been the best strategy.

"That's very kind of you,, Winnifred," Kitty speaks first.

"Ah not at all, I should like to see your side of town. I am painfully nosy, though I might paint it as curiousity," she lets you go. "And you might give me some insight into my future daughter. She is rather enigmatic thus far."

You wince. Of course, it all methodical. You claim your jackets and emerge outside. Wanda, Rebecca, and Natasha claim one car, your sisters and Winnifred the next, and another idles as you approach.

The driver comes around and pulls open the door. You hate that. It feels as if you are a puppet on strings. You move to the tugs and tweaks of Barnes' all reaching hand.

You lower yourself onto the seat, peering on ahead of you, and hesitate before you slide in. You don't expect him to be waiting for you there. The door closes as you shift further in. Barnes' takes your hand before you can settle and kisses your knuckle above the ostentatious stone setting.

"Doll," he purrs.

"Barnes," you greet plaintively.

"Ah, you don't gotta be like that," he drawls as he clings to your hand, his thumb feeling the stones.

"Sorry," you nibble your lip. "I'm only tired."

"Yes, I hope you found something," he says. "Ladies and their dresses."

"Mm, yes," you affirm.

He tuts, "you don't sound very excited."

"Not sure I'm fit to wear white..." you mutter.

"Doesn't bother me, doll. We've both lived lives before we met--"

"Not that," you interject, surprisingly yourself at your curtness. "You know why."

He inhales deeply and sighs, "he got all he had coming. We both know that."

"Yes, but it was me...." you trail off and shrug.

You sense him watching you. You stare ahead and swallow down all those confusing emotions. "It's done, I suppose."

"I respect the apathy, doll, but you don't gotta play cool with me," he insists.

"I don't give-- I don't care about him."

He nods and gives a thoughtful im, "your sisters. Have I not proven myself to you? I told you I'd see to them, I'm a man of my word.”

“I believe it,” you resign. “It's… a lot. I don't think I'm what you think. I don't think I can do this.” You slump in defeat. “I'm not what you're looking for. You've made a bad choice.”

“Hmph,” he scoffs. “That you even got the guts to tell me so shows me you're wrong. You don't know how right you are for me, doll.”

He snakes his arm behind you and pulls you close. “Now you're not gonna roll over and show your belly. Not if you're my woman.”

“I'm not…”

“We were both in that warehouse,” he lowers his voice as his fingertips curl into your hip. His other hand brushes over your lap. “You did what needed to be done. Just like today. Just like yesterday. Every step of the way You've shown me exactly what you say you're not.”

“Bucky, I just wanted to be free,” you latch onto his forearm. “That's all–”

“You're free. And safe. You know what I'd do for you, doll? What I'll do to keep you safe? Happy? To keep you mine.” He leans in to nuzzle your cheek, “that's the one thing about me you haven't figured out. I'm stubborn. I put my mind to something and I do it. Exactly what you did when you showed up battered and begging–”

“Please,” you rasp and his nose tickles down your cheek and he dips down to kiss your neck. His lips and beard send a tingle through you.

“On my honour, you'll never look like that again. You'll never be bruised and the hand that dares to lay a single blemish on you will be cut off,” he nips your skin.

The tenor of his voice brooks no doubt nor the tight grip his keeps on your thigh. His hot breath blooms around your neck and he growls. You made a deal with the devil and now he's come to collect.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Celebrity Crush

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You have what some might consider to be an odd celebrity crush. Until you meet him in real life, that is. | 1.1k+ words of fluff!

Part 2: Celebrity Crush, Table for Two >

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

As you twirl your straw in your drink, you tune out the conversation of your friends. The message to get ready had come last minute, with only a few minutes to prepare for an outing before your best friend arrived to pick you up. You had been watching a true-crime documentary when the message came through, and rather than listen to your friends discuss their weekend plans, you think about the case in the show. Or, more specifically, one of the officers who worked the case.

“Hello,” one of your friends calls.

She draws the word out and waves a hand in front of your face, which you bat away when your attention returns to the restaurant and the people around you.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “What are we talking about?”

“Celebrity crushes!” she cheers. “Mine is Tom Cruise.”

“Gross! He’s old enough to be your dad,” another girl comments.

“And he can pay for everything like my dad, too.”

“Can we move on?” someone interrupts. “Who’s yours?”

“Mine?” you clarify, pointing at yourself. “Oh, uh, you probably haven’t heard of him.”

“C’mon, spill!” they encourage.

You shake your head, and the friend closest to you repeats, “Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Tim Bradford,” you answer softly.

“Who?”

“He’s a cop, and he’s been in some documentaries. Like the ones with Corey Harris and Aaron Thorsen. Plus, a new one with doppelgangers,” you explain.

“So, he’s a cop, not a celebrity,” your best friend argues.

“He’s been on TV! More than once,” you point out.

“Girl, you know I love you, but that’s more of a ‘hear me out’ than a celebrity crush.”

You shake your head and sit back in your seat. The sooner you get home to finish the documentary, the better.

The next day, after you’ve finished the newest documentary and your crush on Tim Bradford has strengthened, you find yourself out shopping with your friends. Thankfully, they’ve moved on from the celebrity crush comment. While you’re in the third store of the day, you wait in the dressing rooms to rate your best friends’ choices while the other girls shop.

An employee approaches you with a nervous smile and asks if anyone else is in the fitting area.

“Yes, one of my friends is trying something on. Is everything okay?” you answer.

“Oh, of course. I don’t want to alarm you, but we’ve locked the doors because there are some suspicious characters in the area. The police are on the way, so everything will be under control soon.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” you say.

She sighs in relief that you were kind about the ordeal, then walks away to alert other customers. You look toward the large windows on the storefront but don’t see anything happening in the parking lot.

A few minutes later, after your friends have purchased their items and are waiting to leave, two police officers walk to the locked door and knock on it. The employee you spoke to earlier rushes to let them in and obeys when the male officer instructs her to lock the door again.

“Ladies, we’re with the LAPD,” the shorter man says. “Our colleagues are outside handling the situation as we speak. However, we need your help; if you’ve noticed anything out of the ordinary today, please meet me at the counter and we’ll fill out a report.”

The employees follow him to the counter, and you realize that he is in the documentaries you’ve been watching. As you turn to look outside again, you see the other officer.

“Are you Sergeant Tim Bradford?” you ask.

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers. “Can I help you with something?”

“Oh, no, I just watched the documentaries you were in and thought it was you. Your insight was informative; I liked listening to your side of the case.”

He smiles kindly and says, “I’m glad.”

You nod, then step back and look around the store. Unsure how much longer you’ll have to wait, you take a moment to look at the merchandise. You usually tag along on shopping trips but don’t buy anything. Your friends have different tastes than you, and an easier time buying things for themselves. One item catches your eye, and you run your finger over it. They have your preferred size, and you tap it a few times before you look away again.

Unknown to you, Tim watches you. He’s seen people come up to Aaron, Lucy, and even Nolan, and claim to have seen them on television. Those encounters usually end with someone asking for a picture, an autograph, and, once, to get their cousin released early. This is the first time he’s heard a genuine compliment, and he’s happy to have been the one you chose to give it to.

“Officer Bradford?” his partner calls. “A word?”

You smile at Tim when you look toward him, and with his eyes already on you, he notices immediately. He dips his chin as he walks past you, and you walk across the room to your friends.

“Wait, is that your celebrity crush?” your best friend whispers. “You didn’t say he was like… Abercrombie model hot!”

You shrug, and she turns to your other friends to talk about how attractive the officers are. Your gaze wanders back to the only thing in the store you’d ever consider buying, but you shake your head and look at Tim Bradford instead.

“The situation has been handled and the area is safe now. You’re free to go,” he announces. “Thank you for your help.”

Your friends rush out, eager to get to another store, but you walk toward the door at a normal pace. Tim and his partner are walking out too, and you hold the door for them.

“Go ahead,” Tim tells his partner. “Thanks,” he says to you.

He stops beside you, and you let the door close. After a glance over his shoulder, Tim passes you a bag.

“What is this?” you inquire.

“A thank you.”

“For?”

“Being nice. Plus, you didn’t ogle me like your friends.”

You chuckle and smile as you argue, “You’ve got to be used to that.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

You peek in the bag and see the item you were looking at. “I can’t accept this.”

“The ladies inside told me I had to take something for keeping them safe.”

“And you got me something?” Tim smiles, and you shake your head. “Thank you.”

“If you’d really like to thank me or hear more about those cases you seem to like so much, maybe we could meet for dinner sometime.”

“I would love that.”

“Great. I have to go, but… give me a call.”

You watch him leave, then realize that he didn’t give you his number. As you walk away, you pull the receipt from the bag. But it isn’t a receipt. It’s a piece of paper with his name and number. Under that, he wrote, I never wanted to be a celebrity crush before today.

[avaf00rd]

Behind the scenes

Leah Williamson x matildas!reader

Tiny little blurb I wrote last minute as I rewatched the show

“Hello you” you grinned as you opened the front door, a smiley Leah behind it with her large suitcase and England hoodie on. The Disney plus camera crew behind you. Pretending as if Leah had just gotten home from England camp and you hadn’t seen her yet. Well she had, about an hour ago though.

You grabbed the suitcase from her hand, and pulled her in from her other free wrist, placing a short kiss on her lips and hugging her tight. “How was it?” You asked excitedly whilst you both made your way to your living room.

“Yeah really good, great to see everyone” your girlfriend explained to you leaning against the large book case near your couch. “Plane was quicker than I thought though, only like an hour and a half”

The camera still following both of you “oh yeah wow that’s not bad at all”

“Suppose I had it a bit better than you travel wise” she chuckled, folding her arms now. Nothing to your 20 hours of travel to and from Australia for your own international camp.

“Certainly” you laughed back with Leah.

“Ladies that was actually really great for a first take so we probably won’t need to do that again. We’ll now just get you both on the couch so we can talk to you both” one of the members of the camera said, holding a clip board and directing his crew to your living room

Leah sat down on the shared couch with you following suit behind. Plopping down next to your girlfriend as she put an arm around you, legs intertwined at the end of the couch.

“You guys wanna stay like this for the clips?-“

“Yes” you nodded fast, as people in the room laughed at your certainty.

“Leah can you tell me a bit about y/n. Like how she is as a person but also a teammate?” The same man asked from behind the camera. They would get her answers and these shots for the docu-series.

It be out on Disney plus just months before the World Cup begins, to help Australia get more of an insight into their team and the players

Leah looked down at you, as you shot her a smile before she started “y/n is such a hard worker. I’ve never met anyone like her. Very funny person to have a laugh with…or laugh at” she nodded

You rolled your eyes “saw that coming”

Leah did one of her wide smiles where her cheeks would go so high and her nose would scrunch up which made you melt completely, “so leading onto that she’s a bit clumsy”

“Not all the time” you mumbled

“Everyone at Arsenal calls her the princess though. Because she’s just the sweetheart of the team, who cares about her team so so much and we get to see that every day here in London” you smiled to yourself as you looked down at the couch while Leah spoke about you to the cameras

“Do you just completely hate this?” Leah laughed

“No keep going” you nodded, making her laugh. Leah often got the sense you got all flustered and embarrassed when she spoke about you so well, to other people when you are in the room.

“Y/n what’s it like getting to train each day and play games with your partner?” The producer asked me

“Yeah I’m extremely blessed, I would say, to be able to basically spend every hour of the day with her. And to put on the Arsenal badge and play for our fans with my favourite person is a bit of a win each weekend for me”

“We’re assuming you two meet through Arsenal?” He asked

“Yeah we met at Arsenal when I transferred back in 2019. And then I went on loan to Barca for a season, but then…yeah I came back-“

“And then y/n asked me out!” Leah cut you off with a grin

“Um okay it was kind of you” you looked up at her with a shake of your head.

“Kinda both of us in a way?” Leah shrugged to camera. Which you just shook your head, to said camera.

“They aren’t gonna understand that” you pointed with both arms to the camera, you and Leah now giggling. You both said a few more things they had asked you before the filming stopped.

“Thanks girls! We will see you tomorrow afternoon for more shots, have a great night, hope we didn’t take up too much of your time” a different lady had said now, as she helped her crew pack up some small equipment.

“Not at all!”

————————————————————————

Being one of the few people in your Matilda’s squad who had been apart of the team for over 11 years, you had been in quite a few scenes in the docu-series. Alongside Steph Catley, Sam Kerr, Caitlin Foord, and more. You got the opportunity to talk about your family’s background in the sport and growing up with the Matilda’s, as well as preparations to win the World Cup.

This morning you had done some scenes at the training centre for your club, along with Cait and Steph as you all talked about playing for Arsenal.

The cameras were with you once again, as Now Leah sat on a small picnic blanket in your local park, late afternoon, where you would often bring your dog, Denny, you were trying to get him to run with the ball at his fist like he was about to shoot.

Leah threw her head back laughing hysterically as you fell over your feet once again, tripping on your own dog, in another attempt to get him to play football. “It’s not going to work” she shouted

“He’ll do it Leah just wait!” You shouted back laughing as you kept trying. When you made it back to the picnic blanket, you did what you were asked to do by the crew which was talk about playing each other in the World Cup.

“I always say it but I really really hope both our teams make it to the final, but I don’t think I could handle versing you in a heated game like that”

“You do it all the time though. We’ve had so many heated games against each other”

“Yeah but a World Cup final though…Hopefully one of us will be out by then” Leah shrugged, looking at you from her position on the rug with her knees tucked to her chest

“Hopefully England” you shrugged back

“No I was joking. I hope both teams are” she laughed once again.

“I think the friendly coming up against England just before the World Cup should be good.” You said as Leah nodded “Most players who will be in the World Cup squad should hopefully be in there so we get a full feel of not just the other team but hopefully our own squads”

“Yeah for sure” Leah said

“I can sense you two have a small rivalry in your own house hold” someone’s behind the camera commented

“Mm I don’t know” Leah grinned as you just laughed

“You know it’s true”

———————————

I’m pretty negative about fics like these that I write. Cause I hate this. But honestly it’s due to some of the recent think about my writing my inbox🫠🫠

So please. If you’re not a fan of it, click out of it!

Luv u all

[archangeldyke-all]

hii bestie i loveee ur writing <33 the arcane finale is literally driving me insane holy shit and i just keep thinking about how all the old bitches on the council are probably bigoted assholes to our beloved sevika at first (hopefully) and was wondering if you’d consider writing the reader comforting her after these council meetings or letting her take out any stress on the reader from these meetings heheh okie bye thanks hope you’re doing amazingly <3

GOD. i've been thinking about it more lately (the euphoria of her making it through the series alive is wearing off too) and i just. really need to hug her. because YES she lived and YES zaun is getting a voice and YES she is the best person for the job, but... she lost EVERYTHING. and now she's gonna have to be treated like shit forever for her city. and of course she's gonna stick it out because that's who she is and she'll do anything for zaun but FUCK. i need to hug her so bad. okay lets write lol.

men and minors dni

it's been a hard year.

you and sevika got your worlds rocked when isha and jinx stumbled in your lives, and then you got your hearts broken when they stumbled back out.

there wasn't even a moment to catch your breath before you had to start rebuilding efforts and negotiations with piltover.

and then sevika was appointed to represent the free nation of zaun in piltover's council as the sister cities figure out how to rebuild and get the undercity on it's feet as it gains independence.

and, in a way, it's everything sevika's ever wanted. she's there to assure that the topsiders treat her city right, she's there to demand everything zaun deserves. she gets to oversee development in the undercity, she gets to open schools and parks and libraries.

but in another way, she's never been so miserable in her life.

the councilor's are all members of the wealthiest families in piltover-- and they do not take kindly to sevika's sudden addition to the council.

shoola's been sevika's one true ally, her biggest advocate and defender in the council room. they're friends, in that the same tentative way sevika was friends with silco, but... maybe a little kinder. a little more lighthearted.

shoola's become a close friend of yours, too. she learned quickly that sevika keeps her cards close to her chest, and she often comes to you for an insight into what your wife is thinking. it's fun to have someone to laugh with over sevika's quirks, and you're endlessly appreciative of the woman's fierce protection of your wife in the council, when you can't be there to defend her.

still, though. shoola isn't always there, and she can't control the whispers sevika overhears.

and it's not like your wife is new to being insulted. but it's one thing to be cursed out by a man you're fighting in the street, and a different thing entirely to overhear posh accents whispering about 'sump rats' and 'undercity trash.'

especially when those same posh accents are the people demanding tax cuts for the wealthy, and budget cuts for the undercity.

so, you've been anticipating this.

this being your wife breaking down in silent sobs, crying so hard she can't make any noise, kneeling before you the moment you gets home to bury her face in your stomach.

but just because this has been a long time coming, doesn't mean it breaks your heart any less.

"oh, sevika." you whisper shakily, kicking your boots off before kneeling down and wrapping your arms around her. she buries her face in your shoulder, her arms circling your waist with desperation. "fuck, baby. i'm right here. let it out." you say.

sevika shakes against you, taking desperate gasps for air between her sobs. "i'm so tired." she stutters out. you start crying at her words, settling down onto your ass to pull her into your lap.

"i know, baby. you've been working your whole fuckin' life." you say, scratching her scalp and rubbing her back as she curls up on top of you.

"and i fucking miss them." she cries.

you let out a choked cry and nod, kissing her forehead as tears stream down your cheeks. "yeah." you choke out. "me too."

there's nothing else to say. everything else sevika already knows. you love her. you've got her. jinx and isha are together now, and zaun is free. none of it makes it any better, though.

so you just hold her.

in a while, you'll both run out of tears and get sore from your spots on the floor. you'll dry both of your tears, kiss sevika soundly, and comb her hair from her face as you whisper her praises. you'll call for food to be delivered, draw a nice bath, and you'll make sevika eat and soak until her eyes droop. and then, you'll take her to bed. in the morning, sevika will go back to the council, despite the fact that everyone in that building looks down on her, because sevika is nothing if not loyal to zaun. and tomorrow evening, you'll be waiting here at home to build back up all her confidence that those rich assholes managed to tear down throughout the day.

but, for now, sevika's still crying.

so, for now, you just hold her.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Alastor watching the princess and the frog by Disney ? It’s in lousiana in the 1920s so it would be perfect for him

absolutelyyyyyyy the princess and the frog is one of my fav disney movies from characters to soundtrack, so this one’s a bit longer. also kind of a part two but also not exactly

history ramble below

also i did some light research on new orleans history because if im gonna write alastor i should know. doggy i love me some history and this history is rich, depressing at times but also rich and meanful to know so i thought id share a little. from talking about the free the peoples movement, to the way women got their rights to their hair back that they didn’t have when enslaved only to have a law banning natural hair and hair wraps and so they decorated the wraps and used coloured fabrics effectively rendering the law useless, to the wealthiest black man of the 1870s for being a prospering business owner, the origins of how voodoo and other spiritual practices mingled perfectly with the pre established voodoo and how voodoo was predominantly black women who were highly respected, the first black man to be govoner in the united states in only 1871, a black woman named Rose Nicaud who opened the first coffee stand in 1800 and made enough to escape being ensalved. then there’s lighter topics like some of the jazz history and how it made various black stars like louie armstrong, and also how the language mingled to make the cajun french that’s sadly dying out, to the architecture that flourished through the varying clashes in culture between african, european, native and haitian peoples. if it’s not too upsetting to read i definitely suggest this page to have an insight on some of the quick history on new orleans, i enjoyed learning about the strength that many had during this time.

United teachers of new orleans < page i was reading

Warnings: jealous Al teehee, reader crushes on naveen and dr facilier (don’t mind me just projecting), cuddling, swearing, alastor doesn’t really know emotions good, fluffy banter, just some ushy gushy mushy tushy

Word count: 2k

The movie Bambi didn't even finish playing before the patrons started to filter out of the room heading to bed. First to go was Vaggie carrying a sleeping Charlie, Sir pentious promptly following along telling his fussy egg boys it was long past their bed time. Then it was Niftys turn to disappear, however she never said a goodnight only sped off leaving behind her vacant swishing rocking chair.

Then once Angel and Husk left, you had decided to just call it quits on Bambi, Alastor hadn't moved much or objected to you turning off the movie, only watching the projector as you scrolled through the app.

You stopped on the princess and the frog, grinning toward Alastor he sighed, getting a glimpse of your mischief from the corner of his eye. "Now what's this about darling?" Turning your body towards his fully facing him, you waited for his gaze to finally meet yours, and reluctantly it did. "Allow me to introduce you to one of, if not, thee best disney movies of all time; the princess and the frog," Alastor's finger rose as he took a breath to speak, but before he could say a word you interrupted him.

"Yes I know princess yuck, whatever Al. It takes place in New Orleans, its main focus is actually in the poorer area with the shotgun houses, and throughout the movie Tiana, the princess, travels through the bayou, oh! With Naveen one of the hottest princes, also it takes place in the twenties, oh!-" Before you could continue Alastor gently gripped your cheeks, your lips puckering involuntarily as he did so."What did you just?"

"Takes place in the nineteen twenties?" You asked, voice muffled from Alastors grip on your cheeks. "Before that dear." Your eyebrows raised looking at Alastor not trying to hide your confusion. "Naveen? One of the hottest princes?" Alastor hummed, booping your nose. "Yes dear, that."

"Yeah. duh dude he's one of the few princes that deserve the princess, he changes for Tiana, he's charismatic, funny, but nevermind that back to what i was saying. There's varying New Orleans culture littered through that might make you feel closer to home, all the music is jazz obviously." Opening your mouth readying to rant on about the Voodoo man that you adored, Alastor hushed you with his finger up to your lips.

"My sweet dear, I will watch this silly picture show so long as you stop rambling about it." Alastor wasn't truly done with hearing your rambling, he was enjoying hearing that you were such a fan of something that centred so close to home when it came to him however if he was going to watch it he rather not have it spoiled.

Giddily you clasped your hands together and hit play, your love for the film and excitement to see Alastors reaction may have made you slightly over enthusiastic just a bit. As the movie began you curled your feet up onto the couch, inching yourself closer to Alastor looking up to his face and back to the movie.

When Naveen got introduced on screen you accidentally gripped Alastors arm tightly shaking him. "My mannn~" You squealed happily, letting go of Alastor once you heard the unmistakable rattle come from him, a growl sounding out of his chest. You didn't pay much attention to him though, instead turning back to the projector and backing off Al. However Alastor wasn't too frustrated with the fact you touched him, but because you were being so ushy gushy over some fake man.

He was easily the same if not better than Naveen. Alastor was charismatic, charming, he could sing, play instruments, he didn't quite understand why you were so particularly interested in this Naveen. Hell, even Alastor had a similar outfit back when he was alive, he could've been Naveen when he was alive.

You didn’t notice Alastor having a mini tantrum in his own world, you were too engrossed in the movie. Suddenly you’ve gripped him again, pointing at the screen. "The shadow man, Al this is your kin!" You egged laughing maniacally at your own words.

Alastor’s face however brightened at the display of the voodoo man. "One of my fav songs." You whispered as Dr. Facilier began singing on screen. Cocking his head to the side Alastor looked down to you bouncing along to the song. "This fellow sounds similar to Husk." Alastor mentioned, watching intently at the shadows that crawled around Dr. Faciliers room, much like Alastors own shadows. "Yeah it really does sound like Husk. Strange, anyways, Dr. Voodoos hot too." Alastors static buzzed around the room and you had to hold back a giggle at the frustrated look on his face, despite the smile it was obvious he wasn't too happy.

"What's up Al, not liking the movie?" Static crackled around the two of you as you questioned him a little slyly as you could tell he wasn’t hating the movie. “No dear, it’s pleasant in comparison to some things i’ve grit myself through, however,” He paused watching you ogle at both the Dr and Naveen. “I can’t understand what’s so great about this Naveen you like. He’s a fool,” You scoffed at Alastors distaste for Naveen, you didn’t mean to make him feel frustrated at your adoration for the characters but it was endearing to see.

“What’s not to like about the man?” You state confidently but Alastor simply shrugged while humming indifferently. A beat of silence passed, the ending of the song playing out of the projector. “It’s just that,” Alastor started up again after a moment of silence, turning his body to face you hands folded in his lap politely. “You clearly have the odd reaction towards these gentlemen and I can't see why,” To give him credit he did look genuinely confused, and just as you were going to speak up he interrupted.

“And please do not say it’s because he is funny, charismatic, musically talented or sweet because I happen to hold all those same qualities!” He finished, hands thrown in the air like he said something especially spectacular. You had a soft smile present on your face watching him work through the sentence theatrically. “Well, Al you are, maybe i think the same about you?” Record scratch.

You cackled at his frozen state, patting his arm gently, cooing that you were only kidding, you turned back to the TV and the two of you decided to leave it at that.

Later on in the movie, when Tiana and Naveen are with the alligator going down the bayou singing about being human, you stared over at Alastor, your heart thumping at the sight of him. His arms were resting along the back of the couch, legs splayed out comfortably, posture sunken in, and his eyes lidded with a closed calm smile. His ear twitched and soon his eyes moved from the movie to you, quirking a questionable eyebrow at you.

Feeling slightly embarrassed for eyeing him up you tried to play it off by asking him a question. “Is there bayous in New Orleans, is that real?” You ask kinda dumbly, of course they were, you scolded yourself. Alastor didn’t seem to mind though he smiled widely, a chuckle reverberating out of him. “Why yes dear! Of course, I personally never lived close to the bayou, but it surrounds New Orleans, and I have been. It’s quite beautiful during a sunset but there’s tons of alligators.”

You leaned forward interested, but it seemed he’d stopped to refocus on the screen which you wouldn’t complain about. You not so discreetly leaned into his torso, arm still on the back of the sofa behind you, and thankfully he didn’t move when you leaned your body into him, instantly decompressing into his side.

They got to the scene where the gang is on the boat going through the bayou, the crocodile fitting in and playing jazz, when you turned to look up at Alastor seeing him already looking down at you. “What’s up?” You asked, watching as he scanned your face. “Well dear you’re just reminding me of home tonight, it would’ve been interesting to be able to show you where I lived, where I worked. Y’know when i did radio, most people didn’t know what I looked like so it came as quite a shock to some that I wasn’t what they imagined. Some were cruel, but my mother always taught me to be respectable if not respectful, so I managed to keep my grace.”

You giggle at his explanation watching him move his hand in all different directions, the radio host coming into play just at the mention of his job. “I’m flattered you would’ve wanted to show me your home n stuff, i wish it were possible.”

On the projector in front of you two, was the scene between Naveen and Tiana’s first date, where Naveen was going to propose. “They always get married so fast in these movies, you spend three days as a frog and suddenly it’s eternity!” You exclaimed humorously, Alastor scoffed an array of instrumental sounds electronically sounding out from him. “My dear it was common back in the day to get married quick, none of this lollygagging.”

You rolled your eyes blowing out air. “Would you get married to someone you knew for three days?” Alastor hummed, tapping his finger against his chin in exaggerated thought. “If it were you, perhaps, otherwise i’d attempt to lengthen it just a bit.” He reviled in the sight of you bashfully turning your head away, shy at his broad flirt. “You’d marry me, after only three days?” You questioned in disbelief, he hummed wrapping the arm he once had behind you, around you pulling you into him.

“Well I found you to be quite a treat the first day i met you, and decided i wanted to be around you for many days on. Is that not marriage worthy?” This confession shocked you slightly. You never expected him to say that he preemptively planned your blooming friendship nevermind that he equated that to being worth marriage. The movie played on in the background as you both watched each other’s faces.

“To me, dear,” Alastor started a smug smile stretching across his cheeks replacing the calm smile that stayed for so long. “It seems like you may unconsciously feel something towards me too.” Jaw dropping you stared at him confused. “What?” You scoff but Alastor only looked smugger.

“Come now, New Orleans centred movie? Jazz, cooking, even that dumbo man Naveen speaks french loves jazz music and dancing, oh and of course the ever so obvious voodoo, it’s almost like this movie is me, haha.” He laughed manically, eyes crossing as his body shook. It was quite the egotistical assumption on his part, but he wasn’t wrong.

You put it on for him but it seems for you too, you paid more attention to him half the movie, and you’ve been more interested in knowing real life facts about his home during his time then what story the movie was trying to tell. Maybe he was right, but even so what did him pointing it out accomplish? “Well that’s why i wanted to show you it, it’s got many aspects you’re involved with in it.”

You mentally gave yourself a pat on the back for such a good save, however Alastor was keen and knew you long enough to catch your lies. “Sure dear, sure.” Al gave you a condescending pat on the head and you speedily swatted at him. The movie played on you once more captivated by Alastor’s reactions more than the movie itself, you’ve already watched it enough to know.

Tucked under Alastor’s arm, warm and comfy, you barely caught the sound of Alastor huffing out chuckles, gazing up towards the projection you playfully hit him. “Don’t laugh at his death!” That only made Alastor properly laugh, dropping his head back, neck cracking grossly. “My dear it was a lightning bug in love with a star! He got stepped on that was hilarious!”

Sounds of prerecorded laughter sounded out with his natural laugh, you didn’t actually care that he found it funny, only pretended too as you gave him a disapproving glare. As the movie closed in you felt a weird gloom wash over you, it was nice being alone with him by his side while you two relaxed. You didn’t want it ending, but alas Tiana and Naveen kissed turning them human, with the reveal that with marrying Naveen, she became a princess effectively breaking the curse, and the movie started with the end song.

“Well dear I did enjoy that, the voodoo was pretty boringly unrealistic, but it’s for children. I did enjoy the mentioning of foods, very common dishes even I enjoy, like gumbo. But alas it was still a pathetic little movie about mortal love.” Standing to his feet when he finished speaking, Alastor dusted himself off and snapped his fingers making all around you revert to what it was before movie night.

“Do you not want to be in love?” You ask softly partly hoping he didn’t hear you as by the time you stood from your spot, you regret saying it. “Well I certainly haven’t looked. Why disappointed?” Alastor bent himself backwards to look at you since you stood behind him readying to exit. Looking down into his eyes you felt hazy, maybe a little drunk on desire as you gently caressed his cheek. “Maybe I am,”

“Darling.” Alastor said sternly as he cracked himself upward, he bent down facing you this time and before he could talk you once again interrupted. “Can’t blame me can you?” Alastor seemed momentarily taken aback, gazing around lazily trying to collect his thoughts. “My dear, I'm uncertain with emotions like this as well as expressing them, love is foolish, however… if you were to tell me ‘i love you’ i would say it back.”

It confused you, what Alastor said, you couldn’t tell if he was mocking you and telling you he was going to lie about his emotions to spare you, or if he was egging you on attempting to get you to tell him your true feelings. Regardless you swallowed down any worries for the future instead focusing only on the now, and looked deeply into the soft red glow of his eyes.

“I love you Al,” With a cheeky smile you watched him stutter, the visible shock was clear, and you wondered if he actually expected you to say that. Just as you began to worry you fucked up, he bent down to your height. “I love you too my dear,” And with that he gave you the chastised kiss on the lips, before standing to his full height materialising his microphone. “Got to go dear! Duty calls!” And with that he seemingly disappeared into the shadows, leaving you to waddle tiredly to your room. Little did you know that Alastor whisked himself away to have a minor panic attack in the safety of his radio tower, not believing himself and his broad actions, nor could he believe the pounding in his chest and flutter in his heart.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Hello! I just wanted to say I stumbled across one of your posts and ended up looking through the trans tag in your blog for a while and idk it felt so so nice to see a middle aged trans guy just living life and being there for others who are at earlier points of their own trans related journeys, and I hope I can look as awesome as you and be as comfortable in my own skin and style and everything when I'm older.

I guess I also wanted to ask if you had any insight or advice about a couple things, if you're willing to share.. First thing is, did you ever struggle with passing but looking much younger than your age and that somewhat affecting your perception of yourself? I'm 28 and I started T 11 months ago (though at a pretty low dose because I wanted slow changes) and my face just recently started visibly shifting to a more masculine contour and I love it, but I still don't really look like a 28 year old guy.

I've always passed easily even before T but people think I'm like 18-21 max. Things were fine while I was in college (I came out at 19 so for a while my face just felt fitting enough and didn't make me feel either dysphoric or in a weird age limbo) but every year it feels more frustrating and makes me feel sort of alienated from myself including in mental ways, like I'm just a little kid who can't grow up. Like I'll never look like a "real guy" even though I can be stealth because I look like a weird teen and not like a grown up man. It's especially bad when I look at my amab younger siblings who are now also adults and see how I "should have looked" in some other life if I was cis. I guess maybe that's just another manifestation of dysphoria that I didn't have to deal with before? Did you ever experience something like that? And if yes did it get better after some years on T or how did you deal with it?

The other thing is just.. internalized transphobia. It's one thing to know things in a logical or intellectual sense but it's so hard to really feel and believe it sometimes and let go of all the awful transphobic stuff my family said to me during the first years of me being out. I just kept going anyway because I needed to be true to myself and my family basically bullying me wasn't gonna just magically change how I felt about my gender, but what it did do is put my already low confidence and self esteem (in this context regarding my gender) down on the floor. And sometimes I still just think and worry "what if they were right and I was wrong and I'll never be real and valid because of x y z", "what if I'm just delusional", "what if I'm a ridiculous freak". I know, in a way, that no I'm not. I'm just a trans person and they're just transphobes. But feelings like that just get to me sometimes and I don't really know what to do about them even nearly 10 years after coming out. Does that get better at some point? Just like you kinda stop giving a shit what people think about you in general as you get older? But how can you change those internalized views affecting what you think of yourself?

Bit nervous about asking this stuff tbh, so sorry it was so long also sorry if I worded any of it in a not so great way.

I will say though, that seeing older trans people like you does help a little bit. Just makes it feel like "hell yeah I wanna be like him when I grow up". So thank you for showing me that today ;u; (and also for inspiring me to put a little more thought and effort into my styling and fashion choices haha)

Heya, Anon! Let's see what I can cover here:

Looking young.

Oh my god, yes. I was getting carded to buy superglue and spray paint well into my late 30s (I started T at 33). When my partner first asked me out for a date, they were worried I wasn't old enough to drink yet (I was 36).

This is me 1 year on T, age 34.

Years 6 & 7 (ages 39 and 40), is when I feel I started looking older.

I feel like it's only been recently, 14 years in at 47, that I look in my 40s, and a "mature" adult. My beard finally getting full helped, as did my receding hairline. And I feel like my skin texture has toughened up enough, to where wrinkles show more.

That said, yes, it is tough and annoying to deal with. Even when people tell me I look like a particular cis man (where I actually see the resemblance, lol), when I look at us side-by-side, I feel like I'm just a pale shadow of him. I feel jealous and dysphoric, even while I'm flattered by the comparison. I wonder what I "should" look like, and it feels like something has been stolen from me. Its a roller coaster of emotions.

That feeling never really goes away, but you need to afford yourself some grace. You're going to be your own worst critic, and I guarantee you that, of many cis men you grew up with, you can probably still see the kid in them. So of course, you're going to see the kid in yourself.

But, you also just need to let time run its course. HRT is a marathon, and a lot of changes don't really settle for about 5 or 6 years.

I hate to say "enjoy it while you can" because I sure as hell bristled at being mistaken for a teenager or barely 20 when I was in my 30s. But do enjoy what you can of it. Because once you hit middle age, you're going to start dealing with a strange intersection of dysphoria and aging that I myself am still trying to navigate.

One other way I help myself get over negative feelings is to think of how differently my life would have been if I were cis. I honestly worry I would have been a worse person; even though being trans creates a lot of obstacles in my life, I feel like it's been a net gain: being able to know myself so well and help others learn about themselves.

Internalized transphobia

This got better for me with age. My epiphany was that, even over a decade into my transition, I was still softening myself for the benefit of friends and family. I was still using my gender-neutral birthname (I only recently changed it). I would call myself a "person", "guy", or "dude", instead of a "man". I dressed on the young and casual side, eschewing full-on masculine outfits like proper suits with ties.

I only recently pulled myself out of this. It still is a habit-in-progress to refer to myself as a man, even though I have always felt like one. And I've started to dress more vintage, not just because of hyper fixations, but because it's a way to lean into a presentation that is unequivocally, "this is a middle-aged man". And it's done a lot of good for my mental health.

What I'd suggest is to see if you are holding yourself back in any way wrt your gender presentation or how you talk/think about yourself. Give yourself full permission to acknowledge that you are a man, full stop. You're a young man, sure. But still a man, and a full-ass adult at that.

I hope some of this helps. Transition gives us a unique toolset for examining who we are and how we want to move through the world, and that work certainly doesn't end after finally getting on HRT. <3

[silversodas]

Interesting Alastor Insights

I think I may have figured out what was up Alastor’s ass in Dead Beat Dad. On one hand it may be a deeper issue that I am missing some context for, but I actually think it’s a little simpler then we think.

Even before Lucifer arrived, Alastor was clearly not happy about him coming over, and yes Alastor was 100% full of shit in the dad off song, BUT! Something note worthy is that he was not only being possessive of the Hotel (claiming to be its host and even greeting Lucifer as the master of the house does) but is also weirdly possessive of Charlie

And right down to the “fuck you” to Lucifer’s face it was projecting “get your feet off of my damn coffee table and get outta my house” energy. At first I was wondering what crawled up Alastor’s ass and died, and then Hell’s greatest Dad starts playing and..

“Who’s been faithful as a Nun? Who’s been here since day one?”

And it dawned on me and I was like “Alastor, why are you acting like your being replaced?” And Charlie is just as confused at Alastor’s behavior, like this came out of nowhere. Apparently Alastor was determined to show Lucifer who the Genie of this bottle is. But I didn’t believe it at first, I was like “nah it has to be something else” but then Mimzy gave some VARY interesting insight

When Mimzy first arrived, Alastor has a look that says (oh this is all I need right now) but he still seems happy to see her

Like holy shit, he happily reciprocates the hug, but that’s not to surprising if you know who Mimzy is if you have been fallowing Viv for a while

When she mentioned that he frequented the club (speakeasy)that she preformed in I was like “oh! They are drinking buddies!” Drinking Buddies are someone you generally only know the fun side of because you only hang out together at the bar, but Mimzy highlights a different side to their relationship

“Put on some Jazz, and pour a few fingers of Rye, and he becomes a kitten”

This gives me insight that while they were alive, she wasn’t just his drinking buddy and dance partner, she was his comfort zone. The way she phrased this sentence, made it sound like this was something she used to do for Alastor when they were alive, maybe she was a soothing presence as well as an entertaining one in Alastor’s life. But bar friends can sometimes be pretty high maintenance friends outside the bar, actually I think a lot of us have had something close to a friend like Mimzy in our lives. Apparently she is so bad that even Husk is concerned enough about Alastor to try and talk to him about her

“You and I both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs something. That bitch is trouble, and who knows what demon she fucked with to come running to you this time”

Alastor’s response threw me for a loop

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, don’t worry Husker, who would cross me?”

So Alastor is not immune to having toxic friends? I always assumed he would just drop anyone who became to much trouble, this is an interesting surprise. And on top of that he’s…an enabler!? Huh…that is super interesting to know. Putting a pin in the rest of this interaction for another post because there is a lot to unpack with husk and alastor. Except for the being on a leash thing because it made me realize something.

What if the reason he felt upstaged by Lucifer was not because Lilith told him to keep him away (yeah I am subscribing to the Lilith theory, it’s to much to Be a coincidence) but because he is legitimately afraid of no longer being needed by Charlie? What if, if he isn’t needed by Charlie then he has to go back to wherever he was the last 7 years? Everyone assumes he is free because he acts as such, but is he? Like real question, what if he was a straight up gift to Charlie in a way? Even if it was a “look after my daughter” command I would still call that sending a gift.

And oh man, what if he was suppose to tell the whole truth to Charlie but gave the whole, “I am here for entertainment” speech instead.

And your probably thinking, Charlie wouldn’t tell him to leave. Yeah but does Alastor know that? And he probably thinks Lilith might call him back anyway if he is not needed but just hanging out. But as we have seen, he cant even except his own situation

I will unpack this whole encounter later, but for real I don’t even think he is that mad at husk, he was mad at the reminder that his soul doesn’t belong to him any more. Like look at his face, it’s the most upset we have ever seen him, and it’s so detailed. He looks enraged, but also hurt at the same time. He and Charlie are not friends, yet, but I think he does feel some what safe at the hotel and maybe that’s enough for now

I also think there is some stock in Alastor hating that Lucifer is a bad dad theory, because that contempt was so raw and he did calm the fuck down a little bit during the “more then anything” song

But those are my random insights of Alastor, there were more but this is already to long I just hope it’s coherent

[til-all-are-loved]

{This Charming Man Part Three}

MTMTE Megatron x Reader

SFW

Part one Here

Part two Here

Dropping the bullet format from now on. I regained my writing confidence.

--

Two weeks had passed, and you were beginning to think Megatron’s late-night visit had been a one-off oddity. He hadn’t sought you out since, and apart from a faint nod in the hallways—a gesture that left you wondering if you’d imagined it—everything seemed to return to normal.

That is, until the next leadership debriefing.

You arrived early, as usual, settling into your customary corner with your datapad. Rodimus was already there, sprawled in his chair like he owned the room (which, in fairness, he sort of did). Magnus was reviewing the agenda, his expression as rigid as his frame. Megatron entered last, his presence hawkish, though this time he glanced at you briefly as he sat down.

The meeting began uneventfully, dominated by the usual back-and-forth between Rodimus and Ultra Magnus. You dutifully took notes, tuning out the more repetitive points—until Megatron’s voice cut through the noise.

"Ambassador," he said, the word sharp and deliberate.

Your head snapped up. The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at you.

"Y-Yes?" you managed, cursing the wobble in your voice.

"What is your input on this?" He gestured toward the holographic display, which was currently projecting several spreadsheets of shift schedules and statistics “Would you consider this approach... practical?”

You blinked, quickly scanning the notes you’d been half-ignoring. It was a logistics issue—something about the allocation of resources to working crewmembers. Hardly your area of expertise—this was a mind game meant to catch you off guard.

“I’m not sure I’m the best person to—”

“You should know this.” Megatron interrupted sharply, his tone making it clear that this wasn’t a suggestion. He came off like a teacher who had just caught a student distracted.

You swallowed, your hands clammy and face hot, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “Well... if I’m honest, it seems like you’re prioritizing efficiency over flexibility. Which makes sense if operations on the ship continue perfectly, but since unexpected situations are bound to happen around here- these shift schedules should be a bit more lenient. It would help morale aswell...”

The silence stretched. Rodimus raised an eye ridge, clearly entertained, while Magnus’s expression didn’t shift an inch. Megatron, however, nodded slowly, his optics narrowing in what you hoped was approval.

“An insightful observation,” he said finally. “One worth considering.”

Rodimus snorted. “Since when do you listen to organics?”

Megatron shot him a look that could have melted steel. “Since they’ve proven themselves more capable of rational thought than certain co-captains.”

Rodimus opened his mouth to retort but thought better of it. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, muttering something about “walking tanks with superiority complexes.”

The rest of the meeting proceeded without incident, though you couldn’t help but notice the subtle shift in the room’s dynamic. Megatron addressed you twice more, each time with the same deliberate tone, and by the end of the debriefing, you felt less like a fly on the wall and more like an active participant.

When the meeting adjourned, the crew began to filter out, but Megatron lingered, standing near the holographic display as though lost in thought. You hesitated, unsure whether to leave or stay.

“Ambassador,” he said without turning around.

You froze. “Yes, Captain?”

He turned, his optics locking onto yours with that same piercing intensity. “Your input today was... appreciated.”

You blinked, startled. “Oh. Um, thank you.”

A flicker of something—satisfaction?—crossed his face before his expression returned to its usual stoicism. “That will be all.”

You nodded quickly, making your way to the door. As you stepped into the corridor, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted again, another piece falling into place in this strange, tentative connection between you and the former warlord.

And this time, it wasn’t just in your head.

--

Your quarters aboard the Lost Light were a modest affair: a desk cluttered with datapads, a chair that wobbled slightly no matter how you adjusted it, and a small viewport that overlooked the endless expanse of stars. You were lucky to even have been placed in a proper suite to yourself. You had originally been assigned to live in a storage locker, but Magnus made an ethics plea to get you in a hab-suite. It wasn’t much, but it was yours, a tiny refuge in the chaos of the ship

Tonight, however, it felt like anything but.

You sat at the desk, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen. The report you were supposed to write—your monthly update to Earth—remained stubbornly unwritten, a yawning blankness where there should have been paragraphs detailing Megatron’s behavior, the state of the crew, and any noteworthy developments.

Your fingers hovered over the keys.

"Captain Megatron continues to demonstrate a notable shift from his Decepticon past..."

You frowned, deleting the sentence almost as soon as you typed it.

The truth was, describing Megatron in clinical, detached terms was difficult this night. In the beginning, it had been easy. He’d been distant, cold, and indifferent to your presence. A warlord trying to wear the mask of an Autobot. You could observe him like a scientist studying a volatile specimen.

But now...

You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples.

Now, he wasn’t just a subject of observation. He was a puzzle—a maddeningly complex one—and you couldn’t seem to stop turning the pieces over in your mind. His grudging respect for you during meetings, the way he seemed to seek your input without ever outright admitting it...

And then there was the visit to your quarters.

The memory made your stomach flip, and you pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the screen in front of you.

"While tensions remain between Captain Megatron and certain members of the crew, his leadership continues to stabilize..."

You stopped again, staring at the words. That wasn’t the whole truth, was it? Yes, there were tensions, but they weren’t the focus anymore—not for you. What you really wanted to write about, though you’d never admit it aloud, was how those rare glimpses of humanity (or whatever the Cybertronian equivalent was) had started to intrigue you.

No, intrigue wasn’t the right word. It was a blossoming fixation.

You sighed, resting your chin on your hand. If you were honest with yourself—which you were trying not to be—you didn’t just want to observe Megatron anymore. You wanted to know him. To understand the contradictions in him, the weight he carried, and why he seemed to value your opinion despite the vast gulf between your worlds.

You wanted to spend more time with him.

The realization hit you with the subtlety of a collapsing bulkhead. You stared at the screen, your cheeks growing warm.

This was bad. Really bad.

How were you supposed to write an objective report when your feelings—because that’s what they were, weren’t they?—were starting to get in the way?

You tapped out another sentence.

"Megatron continues to exhibit behavior that suggests a growing interest in cultural exchange, particularly with regard to human literature..."

It was true, technically. And it was safe enough to include without giving too much away.

You leaned back again, staring at the cursor blinking on the half-finished report.

What would Earth make of this, you wondered? If they knew how much your perspective had shifted—how much you’d come to see Megatron not as an assignment, not even as a captain, but as...

You closed your eyes tightly.

A crush?

A groan escaped your lips as you buried your face in your hands, your cheeks burning. Of course it would come to this. The awkward glances, the fleeting scraps of attention he spared for you, the strange pull of his authority—it all felt like something plucked from an ill-advised daydream. A ridiculous fantasy.

And yet it didn’t feel ridiculous, not when you were alone with your thoughts.

Your hands fell to the desk as your gaze wandered. What did you really know about him, after all? His crimes were well-documented, spread across countless files and testimony. The betrayals, the thirst for power, lives destroyed in his pursuit of revolution—they painted a picture of someone you should despise. Someone you shouldn’t even entertain these feelings about.

But people could change, couldn’t they? He had made the choice to change, after millions of years of warfare and unthinkable consequences. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

You sighed and closed your laptop with a firm snap, pushing it away as if that might also shove aside the thoughts clawing at your mind.

"This is tomorrow’s problem," you muttered to yourself.

But even as you crawled into bed, filthy shame twisted tightly around your chest, refusing to let go. You tossed and turned, willing the gnawing thoughts to stop, willing sleep to take you.

It didn’t come easily. It didn’t come at all.

[milkbreadandtadpoles]

stsg x angel

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒。⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒

snippet: measly 0.5k of an insight into my poly!stsg brain. reader is neutral!

warnings: stsg it it's own warning. suggestive language, suggestive dom/sub behavior and dynamics. reader being a pouty angel ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊ also, proabably poorly edited

author's note: dawg i just had some inspo and had to put thoughts to paper. and i must share! please enjoy my brain rot, my little clan of followers and those who will be searching in these tags.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒。⋆୨୧˚˚ ༘ ೀ⋆。˚⋆˚🐾˖°⋆。°🎧•‧.₊˚🐰‎₊˚⋆⭒

“Would you suck the strap?”

“It’s seven thirty in the morning, Satoru. Please don’t start right now.”

“But I’m serious!”

“Shut up, Suguru is still sleeping.”

“I’m not.”

You palm your face, glaring at Satoru through your fingers, “You woke him up.”

“I doubt me talking about your sexual tendencies woke up the household princess.”

“Can you just flip the pancakes?”

“Oh, you’re making pancakes?” Suguru murmurs, gruff and syrupy. His hair is haphazard, yet silky and smooth. The frizzled strands frame his angular, gaunt face. It’s too cold for there to be color in his face, kissed by late moonlight instead.

“Yes, like the mother hen I am.”

Suguru has a sleepy, languid smile on his face when he watches you roll your eyes. You’re in the prettiest pajama set- cozy and warm and accentuated, eyes still riddled with sleep, head of hair a little out of place. But the light flooding the kitchen makes your cheeks glow.

“We don’t need a mother hen in the house.”

“Oh, please,” Satoru snorts, waving around a spatula with chunks of gooey batter threatening to splash against the back of the kitchen wall, “‘Toru, please make me some breakfast. Toru, I’ll give you a kiss if you-“

“I didn’t say that.” You bark, brows furrowing. Placing your hands on your hips, you frown.

Satoru beams. “You might as well have- it was with your eyes.”

“My eyes?” There’s a pout on your face when Suguru has the audacity to smile. “They were half closed when I walked into the kitchen this morning-“

“They wouldn’t have been if you drank the tea I made you-“

“I did drink it.”

“Oh?” Satoru’s lips quirk, satisfaction apparent in his shrewd smile. “You’re such a good pet for listening.”

Your cheeks burst into flames, mortification further trailing into the deep lining of your gut when the little, white haired freak has the audacity to coo. Suguru holds a hand up, and both of you quiet. Submission is a small word compared to what authority he can pull from the two of you.

“It’s seven thirty in the morning, Satoru.”

And you smile, looking at the man who might as well have hung the moon and stars and sun himself. Shit, he might as well be the sun. The gravitational pull of the planet of you and Satoru that make it bearable living together.

That shatters briefly when he murmurs slyly to Satoru as he flips a partly burnt pancake, “Give it at least an hour or two before you start making her look like that.”

“Suguru.” You whine and he smiles the type of smile that melts your insides.

Huffing a breath, he tells you about going to get ready, to be good before he leaves the kitchen- abandoning you and Satoru in a vice like silence. There’s a pout on your face, laboriously crawling onto the kitchen counter to swing your sock-covered feet while the devious little shit continues to stack up pancakes as though there were four more of you in the house.

But they have an insatiable appetite, so it's a comment you hold with a bite of your tongue.

[justwinginglife]

One Chance

25 Days of Simpmas: Day Fifteen December 15th: Osamu Dazai, Rank 11 Anime: Bungo Stray Dogs Event Masterlist

Ironically, three of the men on my top 25 list are voiced by Kaiji Tang, and two of them are back to back. Do I have a type? Maybe.

Also, it is a Dazai fic, so there are brief mentionings of suicide because again, it is Dazai.

“Do you wanna-”

“Commit a double suicide? Dazai, for the millionth time, no.”

Dazai whined. “What if I was gonna say go out to dinner with me, huh? So rude to just reject me before I’ve even finished asking.”

“Answer’s still no.”

He sighed dramatically, “You are a cruel, cruel woman, you know that?”

As a favor to your boss and longtime friend, Ango Sakaguchi, you’d left your job at the Special Division to follow Dazai to the Detective Agency. While you’d personally never met the man before, you had heard many stories about him, and initially came to the conclusion that he must be an impressive man. Putting aside the fact that you’d been asked to protect him as a favor to Ango, you thought you might actually like getting to work with a man as famous -or infamous, depending on the person you asked- as him. You thought it might be interesting. Fun, even. 

But now that you’d spent every day by his side, working closely with him as his partner, you just knew, deep down in your soul, that this man, this bizarre, enigmatic, borderline psychotic -again, depending on the person you asked, maybe he wasn’t even borderline- freak of a man, was going to drive you absolutely and utterly insane. 

How many times had you rejected him now? And yet, he still pursued you. And how many other women had he asked out, right in front of you? And then resumed his pursuit of you. He couldn’t possibly think that you’d take him seriously after all this time. And yet, he still tried. 

God, what had he done in the Detective Agency to amuse himself before you arrived? Had he harassed Yosano the same way? Or were you his personal favorite form of entertainment? Did he just like the way you turned him down? Was he a masochist? 

You shuddered at the thought. Yeah. He definitely seemed like the type to be a masochist. 

Wait.

So… if he’s a masochist… if he’s just going to keep asking me out over and over again… then the best course of action is to…

“Actually, you know what, sure. Let’s go out.”

Dazai dropped his glass and it shattered on the floor. “Uh. What?”

You bit back a laugh, attempting to keep a serious face on. “I said sure. You and me. We’ll go on a date.”

He blinked. And then he laughed. “Oh, you truly are cruel. You almost had me for a minute there.”

“I’m being serious. Dead serious. Let’s go on a date, just the two of us. Hell, we can even go right now.”

His eyes locked onto yours in careful examination.There were those cold, calculating eyes you’d come to know so well. So piercing that you felt rooted to the spot, that you felt the need to confess to crimes you’d not even committed. The eyes that discerned fact from fiction, that forced submission from oppression. Though there were plenty of times you were grateful for that cold calculation of his -even though, admittedly, it’d been somewhat unsettling to see them in action- they were only a blessing when they were working for your benefit. But now, as those same eyes peered into your soul, attempting to decipher your very existence, you once again found that his insight was nothing short of eerie and you hoped you’d never again be on the receiving end of his penetrative gaze. 

“What’s the problem?” You asked casually.

“You don’t say yes. You never say yes. Why today? What’s different about today?” The flirtatious and playful manner in which he’d previously been engaging you with had all but disappeared, now replaced with interrogative language. 

You stood your ground. “Why not today? C’mon. Let’s see if this date is actually so great after all.”

He let out a small laugh but the sound was empty and lacking any real humor. “Ahh, I get it. You think if we go out on a date, I’ll be satisfied and stop asking you out. And it’ll be all the better if the date goes terrible and I end up getting bored of you; that’s what you’re hoping for, am I right?” He leaned in to hear your response, but his tone was self assured, like he already knew the answer, and was allowing you a reply merely for show. 

Damn, he was good. Ah, well. Cat was out of the bag. Might as well roll with it. You narrowed the gap between you even further, leaning in to meet his domineering gaze. “And what if I am? Do you think you’d even know what to do if the date went well? If you liked it? If you wanted another? You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. You like the chase, the hunt, the adrenaline. What’ll you do if it turns out I domesticate you, huh? If you turn into nothing more than a lovesick puppy? Someone as smart as you. Wouldn’t it kill you to be just another fool, like any other man?”

His lips curled into a sly smirk. “Well, well. This is turning out to be quite the interesting conversation. First, you lure me in by offering to give me everything I want and then you try to scare me away by making it seem less appealing, by making it seem terrifying, even. But what’ll you do if you’re the one who falls in love with me? Did you ever think about that? And have you considered that maybe I’ve already fallen for you? That maybe I don’t mind you ‘domesticating’ me,” He chuckled, “As you so crassly put it.”

You hadn’t thought of that. Sure, he’d been persistent, but you’d never once thought he’d been serious in his advances. Well…maybe just the once. Just the first time he’d asked. 

Ironic as it was, as tenacious as he was, the first time you’d met, he’d actually been somewhat normal. He’d been kind, he’d been respectful, he’d been welcoming. In fact, after recalling all the impressive feats he was known for, you were sure that, with his level of intelligence, he’d guessed the reason why you’d come; that even without telling him, he’d known that Ango had sent you, that his friend had sent you, that he’d worried for Dazai’s sake and sent you in his stead, to be the shoulder that he couldn’t be, and that’s why, on that first fateful day, Dazai greeted you like an old friend. Like a dear friend.

And he kept you close, kept you safe. As though he dare not tread on the gift he’d been given. 

It wasn’t until you got to know each other better that he started to become more eccentric. Or, in other words, he went back to his usual shenanigans. He’d run off to god knows where doing god knows what, maybe one day he was jumping off a bridge, maybe the next he’d be haggling for a vial of rare poison, but still, each and every case would come to its dramatic end, always by his hands. And dramatic was right. He always liked to put on a show, make every case seem grand, make every deduction seem riveting, turn every accusation into a spectacle. And he was extravagant with everyone, but sometimes, you wondered if maybe he was more so with you. If he was ridiculous to make you smile, if he was rambunctious to make you laugh. You noticed he always seemed just a little more comical when you were feeling down than when you weren’t. 

So the first time he asked you out, you almost said yes. The glint in his eyes was so contagious, it was hard to want to say otherwise. 

But your better judgment -and a healthy dose of caution after working so many years with the Special Division- told you that you barely knew the guy, so you turned him down.

After he’d asked a few more times, each time sounding more frivolous than the last, you’d come to the conclusion that he had never intended to seriously date you. And you were fine with it; it was all for the better. But then he started asking out women right and left whenever you’d work cases together and though you tried not to let it bother you, you wondered if his feelings really were so fickle and shallow. You wondered if he’d ever felt anything for you at all.

So now his silly, little shenanigans didn’t seem so silly anymore. Now, they seemed stupid. Now, if you were having a bad day, he just made it even worse when he tried to cheer you up by taking a detour to the amusement park, using the excuse that he “wanted to know what it felt like falling from a Ferris Wheel,” or when he commandeered a horse drawn carriage for a romantic ride through the park, because he was supposedly more “productive” when using transport that allowed fresh air to stimulate his brain instead of wasting away in stuffy cars, as if windows didn’t exist. Where before you might’ve found him thoughtful, chivalrous even, now you just felt he was wasting time. Now, you felt he was irresponsible, inconsiderate, incompetent. Now, you’d rather work with anyone but him.

But you stayed by his side anyway. Kept your promise to Ango. Sure, you might charge an expensive bill here and there to the Secret Division (enjoy a nice dinner one night, go see an opera the next) as reparations for the psychological damage inflicted upon you as a result of being Dazai’s partner, but you kept your promise all the same. 

You just hadn’t expected how infinite his persistence would be.

Even when he thought you’d say no, even when he knew you’d say no, he still asked you for the pleasure of your company. 

So today was as good a day as any to put this whole dramatic affair to rest. Today, you’d do the one thing you never imagined yourself doing in a million years. Today, you’d go on a date with Dazai. 

And you were sure he’d find you uninteresting, you were sure you’d find him displeasing, the night would end, and then you would both go back to your very busy lives, never again recounting the mistake that was your shared date. 

Now, he’d already picked a time and location- all you had to do was show up. And try. He begged you to at least try.  

So you chose a dress that was pretty, but not provocative. You chose a perfume that was adequate, but not alluring. You chose a hairstyle that was stylish, but not seductive. You put in enough effort to be considered effort, and absolutely nothing more than that. You’d rather not waste your best shoes and your best lipstick on him. 

But the moment you walked through the doors of the restaurant that Dazai had so carefully picked out -you were surprised he was capable of putting so much thought into a date, or rather, you were surprised he would do that much for you of all people- it was as if you had in fact put on your best gown, your best makeup, your best perfume, because he was immediately entranced by you.

He cocked a grin. “Domestication never looked so good.”

You had to laugh at that. “I bet you say that to all the women,” You retorted, knowing damn well that his compliment was meant for you and you alone.

He pulled out your chair for you and gestured for you to sit. “Only the ones I want to take home.”

“Ah, yes, but does your home have-” You took your seat, opening up the menu to examine its contents, “-a five star wine selection and, oh, a wide assortment of caviar? If not, then I think we’d better keep this date to the restaurant only. I have expensive tastes, you know.”

He chuckled. “But of course, only the very best for you, my dear. And who knows? Maybe I could have the food catered to our bedside, if you’d let me.”

You shook your head, only half amused. “Getting ahead of ourselves, are we? And here I thought you were supposed to be making me fall in love, not trying to get me naked.” 

He leaned in, resting his head atop his interlocked hands. “By all means, do enlighten me on how I could go about making you fall in love with me. I’m dying to know.”

“You’re the all-knowing detective, you tell me.”

“Ahh, but the all-knowing detective would like to hear from the all-knowing detective’s partner. Tell me. What would make you believe I’m serious about you?”

You almost laughed in sheer disbelief, but the look on his face now was the same one he’d worn just hours ago, when he implored you to give this date a genuine chance. Try. Just try, he’d said. You might find you actually enjoy it. For a moment, the disastrous, delinquent Dazai of the present faded away. For a moment, he was just the Dazai who’d realized that you were homesick when you arrived at the agency and took you out to a small diner that served a meal only made in your hometown’s region. For a moment, he was just the Dazai who got offended on your behalf, when some shady policemen suggested that you could try convincing a criminal to confess by flashing your two assets, so he put on a dress himself, shoving the chest full of toilet paper before asking the cops if they thought he looked pretty enough for the job. For a moment, he was the Dazai you’d almost said yes to. So, for a moment, you mustered up the decency to genuinely ponder his question and provide him with an answer. “You could stand to be more serious, for one. You can’t keep asking me out as a punchline.”

His eyes studied yours intently before replying, “It’s not a punchline. It’s never been a punchline. I’ve always been completely serious about you.” His tone of voice reflected the truth behind his words, but you weren’t sure if you could accept his words as reality just yet. 

“And what about the times you’ve asked me out only to say you’re just kidding shortly after?”

“It’s because I know that’s what you want to hear. And I’m trying to make light of an awkward situation.”

“And the times we’ve been completely engulfed in our work, whether it be poring over papers or chasing down a criminal, and you choose that very moment, as inopportune and inappropriate as it is, to make another confession?”

“You know I can’t help myself sometimes. Not when you look as good as you do solving crimes.”

“And… when you ask out other women, right in front of me? Who am I kidding, it’s probably even when I’m not around to see it. How am I supposed to take you seriously if you’ll bang anything that lives and breathes?”

His lips curled into a grin. “Aww, are you concerned about competition?” He’d known from the very beginning that it displeased you to see him making advances towards other women. He liked that it displeased you. He liked knowing that you felt enough for him to dislike the idea of him being with anyone else. He’d known that it was juvenile of him, and he’d known that it was counterproductive to his goal, but it was the quickest, most obvious way to make you see him, to make you acknowledge him, and like a child, he’d taken the easy way out. After so many failed attempts at securing your affection, you’d started to treat him like a nuisance. Started to rely on your other coworkers more than him. Started to deny his very existence, when all he wanted was to exist for you. So, of course he waited until you were in sight to flirt with a client, and of course he used the same pick up lines that he’d used on you before, just to strike home. He was a genius turned idiot when you were around, and the fact of the matter was that he just couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t.

Not when you were rolling your eyes the way he loved.

Not when you were sighing, exasperated, the way he adored. 

Not when you were so close to him yet so completely far from his reach. 

But you’d asked for an answer and he owed you one.

So he sighed, ego and arrogance deflating, as he spoke up again. “Truth is- I’m an idiot. I wanted you to be jealous. I liked that you were jealous. Because it meant you might’ve felt something for me. That’s all there is to it.”

You processed his words, letting them properly sink in. Then, shaking your head, you gave him a small smile. “You know, for a really smart guy, you can be really stupid sometimes. Actually, a lot of the time-”

He held up a finger in protest, but you raised an eyebrow, your expression saying “Really?” and he made the wise decision to let you continue.

“-But you did get one thing right. I do think I might enjoy this date. So… let’s just start over then. Put this extra baggage to the side. Tell me something about you. Anything.”

All this time, he’d spent as the master of his craft- a genius at lying, at manipulating, at reading lies, at reading manipulation, but all he wanted to do when he looked at you was tell you the truth.

So he’d order wine for you, talk with you over dinner, maybe even split dessert (no- he was definitely getting you dessert after everything he’d put you through) and he’d tell you anything you wanted to know. Hell, he’d tell you everything if you asked. He might tell you everything anyway, even if you didn’t ask. 

Sometimes, he didn’t know who he was when he looked in the mirror; was he an ex Mafia member or would the Mafia never really leave him? Was he a member of the Detective Agency or was he not worthy enough to be one, and had he done any good to deserve it? Or was he the sum of all his past mistakes? If he looked at his reflection closer, was he just someone who failed his friend, someone who never stopped failing his friend in his neverending nightmare? Sometimes, he didn’t know who he was when he looked in the mirror, but when he looked at you, he knew exactly what he was: yours. 

And you’d given him one chance to get this right, so there was no way he was fucking it up now. He’d tell you anything, tell you everything. He’d do anything, do everything. He’d do it all for you. 

And he’d do it all so that maybe, one day, you’d believe him when he finally told you that he loved you.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @inkytypewriter

[inkspiredwriting]

The Defense of the Hargreeves

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: Sir Reginald Hargreeves is an asshole. I just had to write a little story about it.

Warnings: None

Y/N had always heard stories about Sir Reginald Hargreeves, but she had never met the man. Today, however, fate had different plans. She found herself standing in the grandiose living room of the mansion, face to face with the infamous patriarch of the Hargreeves family.

Reginald's cold eyes assessed her with the same indifference he likely showed everyone. "You must be Y/N," he said, his tone devoid of warmth. "I've heard about you."

"Yes, sir," Y/N replied, trying to remain polite despite the chill in his demeanor. "It's nice to meet you."

Reginald ignored her attempt at pleasantries and launched into a critical monologue about his children. "You must understand, my 'children'—if one can even call them that—are highly flawed individuals. They lack discipline, focus, and a clear understanding of their purpose. Especially Number Five. A brilliant mind, wasted on trivial pursuits."

Y/N felt her blood begin to boil. "Excuse me, but I think you’re wrong," she interjected, her voice steady but firm.

Reginald's eyebrow arched slightly, the only indication that he was taken aback by her boldness. "Oh? And what insight do you believe you have that I, their father, do not?"

Y/N took a deep breath, determined to stand her ground. "Five and his siblings are wonderful people. They’ve faced more challenges and endured more pain than most people could imagine, all because of you. Despite everything, they’ve grown into strong, resilient, and compassionate individuals. They might have their flaws, but they are good people."

Reginald remained silent, his expression unreadable, as Y/N continued.

"Five is incredibly smart and resourceful. He’s saved the world more times than you probably know. Luther is strong and has a heart of gold. Diego is passionate and fiercely protective. Allison is kind and uses her powers to help others. Klaus is empathetic and more powerful than you realize. And Viktor, he’s brave and incredibly talented. They all stick together, no matter what. That’s something you should be proud of."

Her voice trembled slightly with emotion. "They are so much more than the sum of their powers or their mistakes. They are your children, and they deserve your pride and love, not your disdain."

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Five and his siblings had entered the room, drawn by the sound of her impassioned speech. They stood just outside the doorway, listening intently, their hearts swelling with gratitude and emotion.

Reginald’s face remained a mask of cold detachment, but something flickered in his eyes. "You seem quite convinced of their worth," he said slowly.

"I am," Y/N replied without hesitation. "Because I see the good in them every day. They are extraordinary, not just because of their abilities, but because of who they are as people. And if you can’t see that, then you’re the one who’s flawed."

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, Reginald nodded curtly. "I see. Well, you’re entitled to your opinion."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing there, her heart pounding in her chest.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Five and his siblings rushed into the room, their expressions a mix of surprise and admiration.

"Y/N," Diego said, his voice soft with emotion, "that was... incredible."

"Yeah, you really told him," Klaus added, his usual cheeky demeanor giving way to genuine appreciation.

Luther placed a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. "Thank you. For standing up for us."

Y/N smiled, tears of relief and happiness in her eyes. "You all deserve to be seen for who you really are. I’m just glad I could help."

Viktor nodded, his eyes shining. "We’re lucky to have you with us, Y/N."

Five pulled Y/N into a tight embrace, his voice filled with gratitude. "I love you, Y/N. Thank you for defending us."

Y/N hugged him back, feeling the warmth and love of the family around her. "I love you too, Five. Always."

In that moment, surrounded by the people she had come to love and cherish, Y/N knew that they would always have each other. And that was something truly worth fighting for.