#unless he got a new profession..........

[softshuji]

Rindou's with you

-Ran

Huh? That's not possible. I'm not even there anymore I'm on way to do that thing that izana asked me to do. Rindou seemed to go somewhere and I left and besides, why would that ever be the case?

[liveontelevision]

Okay, this started as a rant about Lucifer lore and turned into an argumentative essay on why Lucifer is a bottom. My b.

18+ Smut ahead, lots of angst

•••

Here's the thing about Lucifer. He was an awesome dreamer, fell in love with Lillith, and was banished to Hell. Literally forced to see what the gift of good will can do at its worse. Unless he's made some personal contact with a sinner to get like updates about what the gift of good will did right, he had to be stuck in a depression for centuries, at least until Charlie was born. And while that would've definitely given him a new passion, he'll never feel confident in dreaming again.

With how much he dislikes sinners and what they represent, i wonder if there had to be some strain on their relationship when it came to Lillith taking control? They never really talk about if they had a fallout or if she just disappeared, but i dont think they really got divorced either.

When Lucifer looks at that family picture and winces, does he feel bad about not contacting charlie? About something he did to make lillith leave? Or maybe he feels bad about being upset at lillith for leaving in the first place? There's so much to umpack there i live for the lore.

Love Interests:

But when that comes to potential love interests in the future, Lucifer hasnt had to court anyone before like ever. Not in the circumstances that they live in a big city like Hell. So when he finally ends up catching feelings, he has no idea. People around the hotel literally need to pick up on context clues for him and have an intervention to tell him he's in love again.

Even if he hasnt seen lillith in 7 years, their relationship had to be a drastic change compared to new love. I think that his love interest would also pick it up before he does, and you would let him work at his own pace. Fuck, it is so important that he goes through this process at his own pace.

With so much strain on his past relationships with loved ones, he fully gaslights himself into thinking he doesnt deserves and isnt allowed to feel affection anymore. I hate making characters i love suffer. But i feel like in his state of mind he'd go through depressive episodes and panic attacks, maybe some night terrors. Theyed be about his past and his subconscious would essentially tell him he has feelings again, and he shouldn't act them in case he scares you away and abandons you, like heaven. Or drives you away like lillith. Or purposely blocks you out like charlie. Mans is struggling i swear. He needs some comfort.

After finally coming to terms, hes a nervous wreck about every decision he makes. He'll constantly stare in the mirror in the mornings, making sure he looks his best, would plan mental scripts before even having a conversation with you, and would become a bumbling mess just trying to make jokes out of the situation, some base level actions, like how we saw in the show. He'll manage to finally ask you out, but all he really knows how to do is profess an undying love (i feel like his confession to lillith was hella dramatic) so it was a little awkward, but still cute. And of course you said yes.

So let's say its been 5+ years since he moved into the hotel, met you and finally managed to confess his feelings. When it comes to the actual relationship? You give him reassurance and support him through his mental episodes, and laugh at his jokes and praise him for everything he does. He has such intense imposture syndrome though, that even other demons have to reassure that theres no way you dont love him with all your being. Because it is literally obvious to everyone but him.

He's pretty good at doing the romantic fluff stuff in public, he loves to make a big show out of treating you like royalty and even trying to embarrass you when you become close enough. He's always more charasmatic in public, it seems easier than doing that alone.

Not in a negative way, but Lucifer is so never to be alone with you. You take the lead a bit more in those scenarios, suggesting ideas like movies or just coming up with small talk yourself. He needs someone who'll be patient with him. Being alive for millions of years AND being left or shamed by all your loved ones during that time is literally the definition of Truama.

Of course he's been bottling all that shit up, he has no one to confide with. There's no one who's been alive and witnessed it all the way he has. So bless you for loving and caring for him even without understanding all hes been through.

You'll have some rough patches, where this emotional side locks him away from you and everyone else. It might be a few days before you see him. He'll lock himself in his office, pumping out ducks by the dozen just to keep himself from sleeping, because he's scared he'll have night terrors if he feels asleep. He's in a constant loop;

"what if i fucked up?"

"what if i try to talk about it and then they realize how bad i fucked up?"

"what if that's enough of a reason for them to leave me?"

"what if i scare them away?"

"what if that fucks this up?"

"what if i fucked up.. Again..?"

After he leaves his office, youre excited to see him out and about, but you cant make a big deal out of it. You have to speak to him calmly, make sure he's physically okay before talking to him about his thought process. It might take awhile, but he'll eventually trust you enough to open up. And of course it'll never be bad enough for you to leave him, he's just struggling.

Physical Contact:

It takes him an even longer time to become physical with you. He hasnt been intimate for over a decade at this point, but as soon as he becomes comfortable with little affections like hand holding, cuddling, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing? Hoo boy, he melts after your first kiss. It couldve been even a small peck and he would still become a nervous wreck just trying to ask for more.

He'll ask for physical touch more than provide it at first. You'll give him a quick kiss and he'll look up at you super eager just like, "another?" He'll grow into tastful pda's, linking arms, quick hugs and smooches, holding hands all that.

He becomes putty in your hand when you're alone though. You'll nudge him to lean against your shoulder or even lay his head in your lap while youre lounging or watching movies. He becomes so relaxed in your presence, that you'll want to suddenly peck him just to see his suddenly flustered reaction.

You'd give him massages that he would always be hesistant over. He was always a little nervous that he wasnt giving enough to you, but you were quick to assure him that wasnt the case. You'd straddle his hips while giving him a slowww massage. It starts with light touches, tracing your fingers over his shoulder blades and spine. You'd trace your fingers over his chest when you would cuddle too, depending on the position. Or stroke his back sweetly. It was enough of a distraction to keep his mind occupied, away from any spiraling thoughts he might be having.

He purrs. Convince me that he doesnt purr. (You cant)

Being secluded for so long probably means that he doesnt fly as much as he used to. It was probably a passion of his, and he was especially delighted to share it with lillith and charlie.

So during those 7 years he barely flew, he also didnt take care of his wings. I feel like theyre something to be summoned, so they arent constantly tucked into his back. You'd basically scold him sometimes to just let you clean his wings.

You'd do it in like a spring-type bathhouse that Lucifer would have in his castle somehow. It was one of the first intimate moments he's experienced in years, so he was generally going insane. Feeling your hands and a little comb rake through the feathers on his giant wings? You'd have to tap his shoulder sometimes to keep him from falling asleep to the relaxation alone. After the first time, the water you used was pretty dirty and he had a lot of loose feathets that were combed out. Damn, he needed this.

Intimacy:

After awhile, you sit down and would have a discussion about being intimate in bed. Lucifer would be absolutely nervous about overstepping by asking this, (even though you've been together for about a year at this point). He would use his mental scripts and basically practice what he wanted to say.

It would mainly be him saying he wants to do this because he loves you and youve done so much for him that he wants to give back to you in this way. It would consist of him saying its okay if you dont want to, or if you ever want to stop to just say so. But of course you want to, how could you not?

It would start slow, he actually tries taking the lead in this specific situation. He would kiss you first, his lips trembling at the thought that this is actually happening. Feeling his nerves, you'd cup his face and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs lightly. That will help him ease up enough to start letting the passion take over more.

He'd become more confident in slipping his tongue into your mouth and placing his hands on your hips to pull you closer to him. Lucifer would get lost in the moment, pulling you to straddle his lap as he kissed and licked and bit his way across both your shoulders and down to the softeness of your breast. After leaning back to look at the damage his eyes would become increasingly wide, looking up at you with a flustered expression. Seeing you losing it as much as he was, gave him enough courage to keep up at it.

He would almost hesistantly take a hold of your breasts and would massage them softly, running his thumbs across your nipples and becoming absolutely delighted at the reaction you gave. The adrenaline from the pleasure would make you start grinding against his lap, which would make lucifer's hands on your hips pull away for a moment and make his breath stutter. Lucifer would look you up and down as if he didnt know what to do next, studying your body with darting eyes. You'd press a small kiss on his forehead before guiding his hands back onto your hips with yours, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

"Are you okay, Luci?" He would gulp before nodding his head and turning ridiculously red across his face, maybe from the idea of what was to come, maybe just from your voice alone. You'd keep your hands ontop of his at your hips as you'd keep moving, letting out breathy moans. He would be holding his breath without realizing, an absolute nervous wreck just from the view.

He would already be hard just from the previous make out session, so this would cause him to lean his back against the bed, his strength giving out. You'd keep up at it, feeling his hips jolt up to meet yours at times.

He was a sweaty, twitching mess in front of you and you hated to admit how much that excited you.

His scripted plan was immediately forgotten, but he was quick to remember that he wanted to please you.

He'd snap out of his state of intense pleasure, to carefully switch positions, him looking over you with your back against the bed.

You both discuss it, of course, attempting to set boundaries before hand. Even just the tender discussion would get him riled up. So he'd lean foward and kiss you again, showing off his forked tongue before peppering kisses down your entire body, until he was close enough to let his hot breath heat up your folds.

You'd feel his nervous breath on you before delving in. He would be hesistant of course, but would be quick to get used to your entrance after running his tongue across your entirety multiple times. Lucifer loves providing pleasure this way, so his brain immediately knew what to do once the nerves past. He was quick to take a tight hold onto your thighs to keep you in place as he entered you with his demonic lengthy tongue. He would look up at you as he sort of aimlessly dug around at first, waiting for a reaction. Once he'd see you dip your head back with a muffled moan, he would close his eyes to focus all his attention to that one spot. He'd reach his thumb around to circle and massage your clit that he would find far too quickly. You'd arch your back and try to get more friction against his tongue, but it's easy to forget that he is quite literally the strongest being in Hell. You weren't going anywhere.

He'd love feeling your hands in his hair and would absolutely lose it feeling you pull hard when he'd hit just the right spot. As soon as he set a steady thythm and was hearing your voice become more unhinged, he'd speed up to an extent that you didn't realize was possible after going for so long. You discussed cumming before and he made it very clear that he was okay with you finishing on his face. Fuck, he wanted it. You still warned him, moaning out his name to get his attention, "I-I'm almost there- K-Keep doing that.. like that..! Luci-" you'd almost direct him though the whole process, but were quick to become a moaning mess unable to communicate with words. You'd reach your limit and he would let you buck up into his face this time, loosening his grip on your thighs. He'd pull away after licking you clean, sending overstimulated pleasure across your entire body, with a line of your juices following his tongue as he lifted his head. He would pant with his tongue still sticking out of his mouth, and even through hazy eyes you loved seeing his demonic tongue and thinking about how it just drove you to climax.

Things would switch up again, and you'd sit him against the back of the bedframe. you'd have another quick discussion before seating yourself slowly on his length, which had been throbbing for any contact since the night started. The first few times, he'd do his best not to cum immediately. He hadn't been touched like this in a while, after all. You'd only begin to move once you made sure he was okay since his struggle was written all over his face.

The moment you began to keep a steady space, he would jut his hips upwards, becoming needy to feel this sensation he hadn't felt in over a decade. The first time didn't last long. It was sweet, and he would constantly moan out your name and babble on about how much he loves you. The entire time, you'd be praising him through every move until he was going too fast for you to get a sentence out.

He'd cum inside of you, another previously discussed topic. You essentially had to beg to convince him it was okay. You'd collapse onto his chest, a position he didnt see often. While the two of you always cuddled, you were so focused on making sure he was comfortable, Lucifer realized you didnt often get the chance to just relax on top of him. So after realizing that? Aftercare was amazing.

He'd let you sit with him inside you for a while, before pulling you off and immediately cleaning you up. Some nights, when he felt especially dominant, he would lap up his own cum from your incredibly sensitive cunt. He would swallow some of it, but was mainly pushing anything that dripped out back into your entrance.

After cleaning you up, he would wiggle his way back underneath you and pull you onto his chest, enjoying taking care of you the way you took care of him.

After the first night, lucifer would be much more confident. He'd have that healthy glow, but would be more assertive during meetings, more communicative and wouldnt shut others out as often. It really helped him realize how much you gave to him, and he was determined to give all that and more back to you.

[fallingdownhell]

May I request Zhongli, Itto, Kaveh and Cyno with an s/o who's got crazy good luck? They could win any challenge or game presented to them, never get hurt (to badly), and are always making loads of cash (somehow).

I can imagine at least one of those characters getting jealous over something like this.. Characters Included: Itto; Cyno; Zhongli; Kaveh Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; crack??; some fluff and comedy; nothing too serious here, just some funny headcanons Word count: 942 words Have fun with this<3

Itto

the man, the myth, the legend himself..

he gets SO incredibly jealous. When he challenges you jokingly at first, and you keep winning against him..

His pride is on the line here, okay?

you win a match of TCG against his amazing deck? That's fine, he can always challenge you for another round

but when you keep on winning and winning, he gets more and more desperate with each passing round

okay, screw TCG. How about a beetle fight? He's sure to win this, no doubt about it!

...what do you mean he lost again?

he's heartbroken. Will fall to the ground in disbelief. Have the gods truly forsaken him now?

a little drama queen about it, but it wouldn't be the Itto you know and love if he wouldn't act like this

still, you do feel a bit bad about it. To the point where you decide to only do the bare minimum and let him win against you, so he'll cheer up again

when he does win, his spirit is back up again immediately, bloating about his superior victory for the rest of the day. Like, seriously, he won't shut up about it anymore

unless someone were to mention all his previous losses, then he's back to sulking again

however, the next day, all is forgiven and forgotten again

Cyno

one night, after dinner, he was talking about his new deck in TCG when you decided to ask him if he could teach you how to play

immediate sparkles in his eyes as he gets all excited and pulls out a new set of cards for you. He's been waiting for this day to come!

takes his time to explain the rules to you and helps you build your deck. If you ask him questions, he answeres them paitently

then comes the time for your first duel. Even though you are his partner and it's your first ever match, he doesn't plan to go easy on you. Well, maybe a bit, but he still will take this match very seriously

But when you end up winning against him, he's dumbfounded. How did you manage to do that?

He'd quietly mumble something about beginners luck, then challenges you to a rematch. This time, he plans to go all out

...and he looses again

now thourougly confused, he's looking at his cards like he might find the answer in them, while you are laughing your ass off. Your stomach hurts from all the laughing, but you can't calm down. Cyno's just so cute when he looks so shaken up

it's a mystery to him, how you could win against him, despite him having the better cards, the better deck and obviously having more expierence playing the game

in the end, he does swallow down his pride and congratulates you to your win, though he will work his deck over and challenge you again at a later point in time

Zhongli

as an adventurer, it is unavoidable that people get injured every now and then. It's just a risk that comes with the profession

and yet, Zhongli has never seen an injury on you more severe than a cut and maybe some darker bruises

don't get him wrong, he's glad that you're not getting hurt all the time. It's just that your stories and the results don't match up most of the time

"And get this. Then, a huge rockfall comes falling down in our direction! Can you imagine that?" "Darling, that's very serious. How did you manage to avoid that?" "I don't know. Guess I just got lucky. I only got hit my a small one on the head, but it wasn't even big enoug to give me a concussion, so all's good!"

"I almost fell down a cliff today!", "A group of Ruin hunters attacked us today!", "We got locked in a cave, but luckily, they were connected to other caves, so we got out no problem."

almost every other day, you come home with a similar story and every time, Zhongli questions just how much luck one single human can possess to come out mostly unharmed every single time

still, every time you set out for work, he can't help but worry about you. What if one day, your luck runs out on you? You reassure him that you're careful, but it does little to appease his mind when you come home with yet another tale to tell...

Kaveh

Kaveh isn't one for gambling, never has been and never will be. Though, he knows that you like to induldge from time to time, so when you invite him to come along with you, he agrees

and then he witnesses you winning each and every game you partake in. Doesn't matter how rigged the games might be, you make it look so simple

with a huge grin on your lips, your arms raise into the air as you declare your victory one again, and he's left dumbfounded

when he catches a quiet moment, he can't help but ask you about it

"I don't know. I just always had really good luck when it comes to those type of games.", would be your nonchalant explanaition

now he gets why you don't go out to play more often. You'd get banned from every single location if you were to do this regularely

Going home from a place like this with such a massive win.. he's too stunned to speak, but nonetheless very impressed and proud of you for it

will accompany you more often when you want to go out to gamble again, just to see your excited and joyful expression again

[burntsaltsblog]

tw: depiction of drug use (❄️) mdni

Chapter One

"Butcher's dead."

"Stop it," I snapped, turning to face the cracked TV in the basement of the pawn shop, our new home for the time being. "He's not fucking dead."

"Yeah, then where is he?" MM pressed. "I've known that motherfucker for a long ass time, and he would never abandon his team unless it's because he's dead."

"I'm sure he has his reasons," I said under my breath, crossing my arms and trying to focus on a re-run of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.

MM shook his head, standing from the couch where I was seated. "Face it, kid. He's not coming back. One of the many people he's managed to piss off probably put a bullet through his head."

I physically bit my tongue to stop myself from blowing up at MM. He didn't deserve to be yelled at when he was just trying to be realistic. Because that's what he was at his core: realistic and logistic, and I would be lying if I said our chaotic group didn't benefit from having someone like him around. But that didn't make his realism any easier to swallow.

When I failed to answer him, MM sighed before grabbing his leather jacket and jogging up the stairs. A moment later, the door to the pawn shop opened and closed with the ring of a bell.

"What was that about?" Hughie asked, tentatively exiting his room.

"Nothing," I mumbled. "Just MM trying to convince me that Butcher's body is rotting in an alley somewhere in the tri-state area."

"Yeah. He gave me the same spiel this morning," Hughie replied, coming to perch beside me on the sofa. Kim had begun to beat Kourtney relentlessly with her designer purse, and we focused on the fight that we had watched countless times by now.

"Don't be fucking rude," we sang in time with Kim as she continued to berate her older sister physically and verbally.

"Watching this show makes me glad I didn't have any siblings," Hughie declared as he propped his feet up on the coffee table when the reality show bled annoyingly into a commercial break.

"You and me both," I replied. "Although, I don't think all siblings are like that. Kim is just special."

Hughie snorted before we fell silent for a few moments. I broke the spell by asking. "Do you think if I got a nose job, I could get on a reality show like that and make billions of dollars?"

"And what show would that be? The Real Felons of New York?"

"Exactly. And then it would be me hitting some other poor bastard with my purse. But it would probably be from Target, not Gucci, so it would hurt a lot less with it being faux leather and all."

"Mhm, everyone knows it's real leather that leaves bruises."

I turned to Hughie and cracked a smile—my first one in weeks since Butcher's disappearance. But it didn't last long as I let out a long breath, still looking at my friend. "Where do you think he is, Hugh?" I whispered.

"I don't know," he answered solemnly.

"Do you really think Butcher just abandoned us?" I prodded as I turned to face him, bringing my knees to my chest.

"I don't want to believe that, Jo. But do you remember how he left us on the side of the road? He just drove off without looking back, so is it really so crazy to assume that he'd eventually abandon all of us?"

"But it's Butcher. He was our leader. What kind of leader would forsake his team?"

"I think you need to brush up on some history, Mademoiselle."

Hughie and I swilevled our heads to see our French friend as he descended the last few steps of the pawn shop basement with several bags in tow.

"I come bearing gifts," Frenchie announced before dropping his belongings on the small armchair by the couch. "A friend of mine works at the supermarket down the street, and he let me sneak in the back and steal a few items from their delivery truck."

"Thank God. I was getting real sick of Skittles from the vending machine upstairs," Hughie professed as he riffled through the bags of produce and frozen dinners.

"Really?" I inquired with a raised brow. "Is it because you stole mine all the time?"

"Only the yellow ones!" Hughie shot back, defending himself.

"Which is the worst flavor by far. Honestly, Hugh. You have no taste."

"Yes, I do. It's just very acquired."

"Ok, Buddy. Sure it is," I snickered, gazing back at the TV as Kim appeared once again, this time yelling at a different family member.

༺༻

"C'mon, just one more line," Brandon urged, pushing the stool closer to me that was balancing a tray filled with a hefty amount of coke.

"No," I said, running a hand down the side of my face to wipe away the sheen of sweat that covered my skin. "I'm already crashing. Besides, I need to get back to base. If I'm gone for too long, the others will start to panic."

Brandon casually snorted another row before wiping his nose vigorously. "You mean the rest of your team?"

"Yeah," I confirmed, which was much to his confusion.

"Why are you guys still together? I thought your boss left town."

"Well, what are we supposed to do? We're the most wanted criminals in the country. It's not like we can return to our everyday lives as if nothing ever happened."

Brandon processed my words as he massaged his jaw, which had begun to tremble. "I guess that makes sense."

I grunted an unintelligible noise as I stood from his floor, which was covered in brown, fraying carpet. My stomach flipped, and I placed a hand over my heart as I felt it beat much quicker than usual. I could already tell that this comedown wasn't going to be fun.

"Text me when you get back, yeah? I want to make sure you're not arrested on your way home. It would be pretty shitty to get sent to prison when you're coked out of your mind."

"That's for sure," I murmured as I moved towards his door, which was decorated with old bullet holes. Brandon's latest apartment was nothing short of dilapidated, and its seedy appearance motivated guests to leave as soon as they arrived. "Will you be around this weekend?"

"Nope. I got a deal down in Pennsylvania. Thirty pounds of weed for half a million," Brandon replied as he began creating random shapes from what was left of the white power.

I stared at him for a moment before shaking my head. "Alright, well, I guess I'll see you whenever you get back."

Brandon's only reply was the sound of him snorting his snow, and I exited his apartment without another word.

I wasn't looking forward to the forty-minute walk home. It was mid-November here in New York City, and the freezing temperatures made any outdoor activity downright painful. But it was my fault for venturing out in the first place. I just couldn't bear to sit in that dingy basement with vivid thoughts of Butcher's assumed demise running through my head anymore. Each time I pictured someone blowing his brains out, it got more and more believable, and I refused to acknowledge the fact that MM might be correct and Butcher might be gone.

Tiny flakes of snow dusted the top of my head, and I drew my thin jacket tighter around my body, desperate for any source of warmth. My shoulders rose to my ears, and I bowed my head, footing it quickly in the direction of the pawn shop. All I could think about was curling up with our small space heater and watching more shitty reality television on the sofa that was definitely infested with bed bugs.

My mind grew fuzzy, and the noticeable shake of my fingers made me curse myself for not taking it easier with Brandon earlier. My eyes darted around the empty streets as paranoia took over, and I regretted not bringing my handheld with me.

If it weren't for my fragile emotional state, I wouldn't've done so many lines. But my need to bury my feelings under a blanket of drugs was too strong for me to deny, and now here I was, coming down from an intense high in the middle of Chinatown at two am.

I supposed that's what I got for falling in love with Billy Butcher.

But could you call it love? In the past three months, I had begun to doubt everything I had ever felt for the man. Sure, I'd had a massive crush on him ever since he'd found me on the street, selling drugs, and recruited me for his team. We then proceeded to harmlessly flirt for the next four months before finally sleeping together one night. Then everything with The Seven went to shit the following day, and I never saw him again. So, was it love? I guess I'd never know.

The vibration of my pocketed phone grabbed my attention, but I ignored it as I sank my teeth into my lower lip and trudged on. It was most likely one of the guys, but according to my loose calculations, I should be home in less than ten minutes. So I'd see them soon enough. Also, I needed these next ten minutes to sober up as much as possible. MM had made it quite clear that he disapproved of my "habits," as he liked to call them, and I wasn't in the mood for another lecture about how crack was going to put me in an early grave.

As I rounded the corner of the pawn shop, I stopped to pull the hood of my jacket up to cover my frizzy, tangled hair and pinch my cheeks so I wouldn't look so damn pale.

After entering the crummy establishment, I reluctantly walked down the stairs, and I heard a debate that was ensuing in the dimly lit basement.

"Raynor is not going to hand us over. She's on the same side as we are," Hughie was saying.

"Side?" argued MM. "She's the top fucking dog at the CIA. She's up the government's ass. The same government, mind you, that's responsible for naming us wanted criminals."

"That was Vought, not the government."

I trailed my eyes on my scuffed-up boots as I tried to make a run for my room unnoticed. But my cover was blown when MM spotted me.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

I raised my gaze, preparing the lie I was going to feed him, but it got stuck in my throat when I saw who he was standing beside.

Butcher. Looking perfectly healthy. Without a single bruise or a speck of blood on him. In one of his signature Hawaiian shirts, he looked like he'd just gotten back from a vacation in the tropics.

My heart slammed against my chest, but it wasn't because of the coke this time. It had everything to do with the burly man who towered over me with deep, hazel eyes that made my green ones well with anguished memories.

"That's it, love. Come all over my cock for me."

Butcher's hot breath fanned over my flesh, raising goosebumps as his lips trailed down my neck, licking and sucking as he marked me in the most depraved way.

I clenched around him as I gushed all over his thick length, screaming his name-

I jolted back to reality and clamped my mouth shut, which was hanging open as I panted, and forced my eyes to settle on MM.

"Out," I said curtly.

I glanced at Frenchie, who stood a few feet from me by Kimiko, and he turned away before discreetly wiping his nose, signaling me to do the same. Thankful for his help, I traced a finger under my nostrils, feeling the remnants of the dust that I had carelessly left behind.

I tried to play it off, but Butcher's hawk-like gaze had caught every movement, and I fixed him with an indifferent stare. So what if he found out about the earlier events of my evening? It's not like he was going to pull every statistic on the internet regarding females under the age of thirty dying of a cocaine overdose and then formulate them into a PowerPoint presentation because, thankfully, he wasn't Marvin Milk.

"Well, when you were 'out,' did you forget how to answer your phone? You know the rules about staying in contact when we're separated," MM berated me.

"Sorry," I apologized in the same tone.

With disappointment written all over his face, MM shook his head before looking back at Hughie, who was leaning against the arm of the sofa. I shuffled over to sit beside him and waited for the heated conversation to continue. All the while, I avoided Butcher and the way his eyes burned into the side of my head, no doubt judging my disheveled appearance.

"Look, all I'm saying," Hughie expressed with crossed arms. "Is that Reignor is our only shot we have left at taking down Vought. If we can just get her a sample of Compound V, then it would finally be in the right person's hands."

"Should we really trust one of Monsieur Charcuter’s scorned lovers?" Frenchie asked. "A scorned woman is a vengeful woman."

"If I may," Butcher interjected, his cockney accent shining through, "'Lover' is a rather strong word to describe what we was doin’, which was havin’ a good fuck in a few bar bathrooms."

Everyone groaned before MM got the conversation back on track.

"Fine. All those in favor of scheduling a meeting with Raynor?"

Hughie, Frenchie, Kimiko, Butcher, and I raised our hands.

"Don't bother askin’ who's opposed. You're all alone there, mate," Butcher smirked at his second in command before turning to the rest of us. "Right, first thing tomorrow, I will call Susan up and arrange a meetin’. In the meantime, you twats better get a good night's sleep cuz now that Daddy's home, you're all gonna be workin’ your arses off."

I refrained from rolling my eyes as Butcher continued, holding up his duffel bag. "Now, which one's my room?"

₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊ ₊ . ⋆ ⁺ ݃ ⁺ ⋆ . ₊

abandoned masterlist

[imagineanime2022]

Hidden

Osamu Dazai X GN!Reader

Word Count: 1425

Requested: Anon

Request: Can you write dazai x reader who got injured but tries to hide it?

Dazai didn’t often care for other people. In fact they were often disposable pawns in his plans unless they were part of the ADA. You started off as the target of a mission, later becoming a member of the ADA due to your ability to track and follow people. Your ability allows you to mark up to 3 people to track and follow unnoticed, however you have to have seen the person before and marked them while they were in your sight.

Dazai didn’t think much of you at first, that is until you were ordered to track and follow him to make sure that he didn’t get into anything that he couldn’t handle. This led to you finding out about his previous profession.

You don’t know what tips Dazai off but he found out that you knew and you were minding your own business on your way home when he ambushed you “There you are.” He said as he fell into step next to you. “I’ve been in the same building as you all day Dazai.” You reminded him, rolling your eyes as you continued on your way home. “Mmm, never alone though.” He smirked as he watched you frown as if trying to figure something out. “Is there something that I can help you with?” You asked, turning off the main road towards your small apartment building. “Help me with?” Dazai repeated the question to himself before moving forward in a burst of speed pressing you to the wall behind you. “Actually there is something that you can help me with.” “What’s that?” You asked, he would have been confused by your ability to brush off his actions, if he wasn’t sure that you had been sent by someone worse than him. “Who sent you to watch me?” He asked. “The boss.” You answered. “He wanted me to make sure that you didn’t get into anything that you couldn’t handle, I assume he was worried about your past coming back to haunt you.” “You expect me to believe that?” He asked. “I don’t, honestly I’m surprised that it took you so long to accuse me of being an enemy.” Dazai had the physical edge, he was bigger and stronger than you were, he had more experience than you did in fighting and in extension killing people so your only option was to answer all of his questions. “You don’t seem worried about it.” He informed you and you shrugged. “I’m not worried, honestly I’ve never put much stock in living.” You answered “not in the sense that I don’t value my life but more in the sense that I know how fragile it is and how infinitely stupid it is of me to think that I can stop it from breaking.” Dazai stopped, almost like something had opened up to him, something you had opened up to him, he stepped back away face cast down as his shoulders began to shake. Then a real and rich laugh pulled from his lips, he waved at you before turning and walking away leaving you confused.

The next morning he greeted you like an old friend and was with you any time that he could be, leaning over you, ruffling your hair, whispering in your ear or initiating some form of contact. It became so normal in the following years that none of the other members questioned it or knew how to explain it to the new additions even when it settled into a relationship.

While Dazai was forever looking for a way to exit stage left in the play of life, he was very aware of your ability to find danger without really looking. He never liked when you were on missions alone (which meant he didn’t like you going on missions) but never said anything because that would be hypocritical and he had no time to argue with you.

The true trouble rose with the addition of Atsushi who brought with him the Mafia interference, you were given the task of following Atsushi and reporting back when someone made a move for the bounty. Unfortunately the first time that it happened, they sent Akutagawa and he did not waste time, you realised that you needed to buy more time for them to get there, so despite the fact that you had no fighting skill you jumped into the fray after Atsushi, Niaomi and Junichiro were both knocked out. “You are?” Akutagawa asked as he looked over to where you landed. “Me… I’m just a friend.” You answered. “Mm.” He hummed as he knocked you away from Junichiro, your head and back knocking against the wall of the alley. “Damn.” You groaned, pushing yourself up from the floor. “I would say it’s impressive the beating that you can take but it seems that’s all you're good for.” Now he was looking down at you. “I’m good for a distraction.” You muttered pushing up onto your hands and knees as he frowned. “What?” He asked. “That’s enough Akutagawa.” Dazai spoke, everything seemed to freeze for a second before Akutagawa turned to the man that had spoken. “You're just as useless as the day I left you.” “Shut up!” Akutagawa lashed out at Dazai who immediately nullified his ability. “Are you okay?” He asked. “Yeah.” You answered pushing to your feet, it only took a few more taunting words from Dazai to get Akutagawa to leave, you helped him get the others back to the office, slinking off to tend to yourself.

You leant against the sink rolling your shoulders and trying to become familiar with the pain that coursed through your shoulders when you moved them, finally deciding that you were ready to face the rest of the day you walked out of the bathroom, coming face to face with Dazai. “Were you waiting for the-” “Are you okay?” He asked. “Yeah I already told you I’m fine.” You answered. “You're sure?” He asked. “Yes.” You answered. “Mmm.” He hummed, you walked past him and back towards the office, he watched you carefully and while he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary he was sure that there was something.

It was later on that day that you had to admit to the injury, Ranpo had come back to the office and he, like many of the other members, liked to hang off of you like a child and have you catch anything that he can’t. Today was no different “(Y/N)!” Ranpo yelled as he dove at you, luckily you were sitting so the impact of the jump didn’t affect you too much, just started off a dull ache in your shoulder. “Hey Ranpo, how was the case you were assigned to?” You asked. “Easy… They keep saying that they don’t need me but I don’t know what they would do without me.” Ranpo muttered thoughtfully as he unwrapped one of his many sweets. “What about you? What did you do?” “Got in a fight.” You answered. “But you can’t fight.” A look of disapproval took over his face as you shrugged, flinching but that went unnoticed by everyone except for Dazai who had been watching you closely. “Mmm, someone had to distract the threat and save the day.” You joked, he giggled with you and easily moved on. Dazai came over the moment that Ranpo changed his attention to someone else, he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. “Where are we going?” Dazai didn’t answer, instead he pulled you back to the restroom of the office, guiding you in and locking the door. “Show me.” He ordered. “Show you?” You repeated letting confusion slip into your tone. “He hurt your shoulder didn’t he?” He asked. “It’s nothing, just a bruise.” You answered. “Did Yasano tell you that?” He asked. “I can see a bruise, Dazai.” You grumbled and he gestured for you to turn, you did as you were told and Dazai helped you gently move your arm out of the sleeve and lifted your shirt to show him your shoulder. His fingers gently run over it watching your reaction before nodding to himself. “We’re still going to Yasano.” He informed you. “For what?” You asked, turning to look at him and shoving your arm through the sleeve and regretting the action immediately. “For something for the pain.” He answered, pressing a kiss to your temple “at least do that.” “Fine… Fine.” You agreed leaning into him, he gave you a second before unlocking the door and leading you to the doctor.

Request Here!!

[adickaboutspoons]

Oh boy. Okay. Here we go

A totes calm and measured response to this post over here by @themetabridge. Forgiveness for the whole new post. I had too much to say to fit into what Tumblr apparently thinks is an appropriate length for a re-blog.

First? I mean. Text just means the words and actions as they are said and shown in a given piece of media being analyzed. Which is what I’m here to do with my meta – textual analysis. That’s why I insist on textual support for any argument interpreting the media in question. Naked assertions do nothing to explain how you arrived at your conclusion. Vibes aren’t good enough. Show me what IN THE TEXT made you think what you think, and I will do you the courtesy of the same. Otherwise, I don’t see how we could possibly have much to say to one another.

The fundamental breakdown we are having is that you have failed to provide a textual basis for why you think Ed is a bad person. While I respect your assertion that a person’s essential goodness is predicated on the actions that they perform, I cannot respect the corollary supposition that there are actions that are either “good” or “bad” in a vacuum, as this completely ignores circumstance and motivation. WHY someone does something is AT LEAST as important as WHAT they did.

For example - Stede killed Ned Lowe in cold blood. Does it matter that he did it because Ned “shit-talked [his] friend and damaged [his] ship,” and “fucked Calypso’s birthday”? Does it matter that Ed, the person whom Ned’s shit-talk actually impacted, told Stede not to do it? Twice? Does it matter that Ned was a subdued enemy combatant, and as such could have just as easily been gagged like Hornberry and the overtly racist Wellington, who survived imprisonment and went on to watch Ed and Stede sign the Act of Grace? Do we compare Ned to the French Captain who got flayed for his racist rhetoric, though Ned’s comment was, strictly speaking, about Ed’s class rather than his race? How far are we going to go to disentangle class and race when one absolutely informs the other?

How about a more straight-forward example; Stede set an unnamed man on fire and quipped about it like some asshole 80's action hero. Does it matter that he threatened Stede’s life? How about if, when he did so, he was twenty feet away, armed only with the bottle he had just broken over his head, and there were half-a dozen pirates between him and Stede who all thought Stede was hot shit, and so Stede was in no immediate danger? What if Stede has a long history of people making attempts on his life, and being unsure that he even deserves to live, and this is meant to show that, now that he has something to live for, he’s done with the part of his life where he lets anyone try to take that away from him?

This is what I mean when I say that the show is careful to never outright condemn the use of violence. The narrative tells us clearly that, within the context of the show, some things are more important than an unnamed or one-off character’s life – preservation of one’s own life or the lives of one’s loved ones, dignity in the face of racially-based persecution, resistance to colonial oppressors. The reasons for and direction of violence matters. Context matters.

And speaking of context, you misunderstand me when you suppose that only what literally appears before our eyes counts can be “read into the text”. I refuse to give extra-textual sources of information (such as the historical reality of sergeant recruiters and being pressed into service or the historical Golden Age of Piracy) any weight unless they can be validated by in-text support, because the show itself cares fuck-all about historical accuracy. But extrapolations about the in-show universe based on in-text support are fine.

So, considering that the very first thing we hear in the show is Frenchie’s little ditty about the violent reality of a pirate’s life, and considering Jack’s comment at brekkie about how pirating is an "ugly profession”, and considering what we see of the raids in 1x5 and 2x2, we can reasonably conclude that pirate culture is steeped in toxic masculinity where the expectation of performing violence is de rigueur. Because Ed has carved out a successful reputation as Blackbeard, and because we see the ease with which he can go from being casually conversant with Stede to “giving it some oomph” to scare the location of the treasure out of the French captain in 1x5 with the THREAT of violence, we can reasonably conclude that he can successfully perform the required violent displays of piratical society (or at least, given that we know by his bathtub confession that he has not personally killed anyone since his father, he can adopt a convincing enough posturing that no one would doubt he COULD). From his interactions with Jack and familiarity with “yardies” and “whippies”, and his ruminations about “the old days” of “drinking all day and biting the heads off turtles or making some poor bloke eat his own toes for a laugh”, and Fang’s assertion that Ed made him kill his dog, we can reasonably assume that Ed has a history with casual violence for the sake of fun and cruelty for cruelty’s sake.

However.

I think “the old days” is an important qualifier there. Season 1 Izzy may be frustrated that Ed is not performing Blackbeard sufficiently well to suit him (on that point we can agree), but even by his own deathbed confession “for YEARS I egged [him] on, even though I knew [Ed] had outgrown [the Blackbeard persona]” (emphasis mine, and pin in that for a moment). In 2x1, Fang is crying into his cake saying “I’ve never seen Blackbeard like this” - indicating that the conditions of the Kraken era are NOT the norm. The slivers of Ed we see in 1x3 before the Spanish raid are marked by him speaking calmly and rationally to Izzy (in stark contradiction to Izzy’s insistence that he’s half-mad) never even raising his voice much less using threats or any actual violence to get Izzy to do what he wants. In fact, it is Izzy who suggests a course of action involving very normative piratical violence (“Do we open fire? Or would you rather we just attack them, kill them, throw them out to the sharks, sir?”), which Ed counters with a genteel proposition - inviting (not even ordering!) Stede aboard for a face-to-face meeting. Izzy being comfortable enough to push back against orders (“Oh, Edward, can’t I just send the boys?”) even suggests that he feels no threat from Ed at all. Every indication is that by the time we meet Ed, well before he ever meets Stede, he’s already well past done with violence for violence sake.

When Ed does meet with Stede, before he’d fallen in love (Even though the are the U-Hauliest, I would argue “fascination” with a possible side of “infatuation”, but certainly not yet love), one of the early conversations they have is about the depiction of Blackbeard in Stede’s book of pirates. Ed expresses revulsion and anger that the persona that he’s worked so hard to cultivate has been twisted into a hyper-violent parody - a “Vampire Viking Clown” that’s barely even human, with a head of smoke and overladen with weapons and hardly bears any resemblance to the real man. We’re meant to understand that this is not a valid or accurate representation of who he is. Violence is a normative part of pirate life, but he has “one knife, and one gun JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE” (emphasis mine, again) - he doesn’t shirk from using the tools of violence when it’s necessary, but he is NOT excessively or wantonly violent. 

And we SEE the evidence of this because of how Stede reacts to the way Ed acts around Jack. Jack keeps Ed drunk all day, decoupling his inhibitions from his decision-making processes and, in spite of Ed explicitly saying that he’s mellowed out, Jack eggs him into the kind of hyper-violent Jackassery that is excessive even for pirate society if the nervous reactions of Stede’s crew are any indication. Of course, this is all part of Jack’s plan - to manipulate both Ed and Stede and force them apart - and the reason that it works is because the way Ed acts around Jack is NOT the way he chooses to act under his own volition, hence Stede’s frustration and disappointment.

While I agree that piratical violence is not political praxis, I would argue that, considering that every raid we have witnessed Ed participate in has been against a representative of colonial power and, more often than not, specifically the enforcing arm thereof, it’s not unfair to conclude that Ed’s reasoning goes that if piratical violence is to be done, better against someone who deserves it than not - i.e. those who perpetuate the violence of colonialism. Regarding instances of violence outside the context of raids, here’s where we take that pin out of Izzy. Izzy and Ed are locked in a cycle of abuse over the first season, wherein Izzy decides that Ed is not Blackbearding hard enough, and, because he feels entitled to controlling Ed’s actions, bullies and harasses him into capitulating  - typically in the form of performing violence. Afterwards, Izzy performs some form of deference - apologizing and/or acting as though he’s going to leave, which Ed “talks him down from” and mercifully allows him to stay. It’s why, when Ed sees Izzy packing up a dinghy (lol. With what? It’s not like he’s on his own ship or would have brought his things with him, or sacked plunder from the Revenge. Clearly he was just stalling until Ed noticed him and swooped in to do his part of the cycle) he tells Stede he “should deal with this,” as though it’s tedious, but normal occurrence. I think an important part of this cycle as the season progresses, though, is how Izzy keeps upping the stakes.

So by the time we get to the end of the season, when the last iteration of the cycle starts up again (when Ed is once more insufficiently Blackbearding by being emotionally vulnerable and open with the crew following his return to the Revenge and his stint in the pillow fort (note that Izzy is apparently FINE with Ed not being Peak Pirate, just as long as he hides it away from everyone), and Izzy once more bullies and threatens Ed) this time it is especially cruel - Izzy is a thumb in the wound, attacking Ed at his most vulnerable and saying it would be better if Ed was DEAD than “pining for his boyfriend.” This iteration now also brings with it a history of escalation (first in Izzy bringing Fang and Ivan in to force Ed's hand about killing Stede, lest he look "weakened by the love of a pet" before his crew, and therefore in danger of mutiny, and then by bringing in the British Navy to force Ed to take Izzy back - or rather, to force Izzy back into Ed's life because the terms of the agreement see Ed remanded into Izzy's custody as though he is property to be distributed at the will of the Brits) - an established pattern of the lengths to which Izzy will go to get what he wants, and so a very real threat implicit in Izzy’s warning that “Ed had better watch his step” as Izzy serves only Blackbeard. So Ed gives him what he wants. He Blackbeards it up just like Izzy insisted, and lets Izzy know in no uncertain terms that the insubordination is done. It’s not a "frat boy prank" when he cuts off Izzy’s toe and feeds it to him, or even something from which he's deriving pleasure as he might have in the old days; it’s a calculated, proportional response, done under duress and against his own inclinations, but exactly the tool required to get the message across clearly.

As to the question of why it matters if Ed is bad, first and foremost, because saying that he is bad requires you to explicitly read contrary to the text. If you’re not going to engage with the text on its own terms, I don’t see how you can do any analysis of what story it’s trying to tell. I already discussed the ways in which the narrative is specifically about how Ed is NOT bad, even when he himself thinks he is. I have also discussed how, while “violence is never the answer” may be broadly understood to be the correct way of comporting oneself in real life, the show never condemns violence across the board. The show condemns cruelty, both on an interpersonal and societal level, but positions the use of violence as an acceptable and reasonable response thereunto. It treats circumstance and motivation with nuance and weight. Living within this context, Ed’s use of violence by the time we meet him is well within the normative acceptable application thereof. Judging him by standards outside the context of the story within which he exists makes as much sense as judging the Stede from the show for being a slave owner because that’s historical fact - that’s just not applicable to who he is in THIS story.

But more importantly, it matters because Ed is a POC character. Describing him as “cruel and perverse” for utilizing violence, particularly when the violence he uses is NOT excessive or impulsive, perpetuates negative race-based stereotypes about hyper-violent men of color. Characterizing him as “bad” for his use of violence when other (white) characters, such as Stede, use violence in similar ways, or are cruel or petty, but can still be considered, on balance, “good” means that Ed is being held to a different, higher standard than those white characters, and perpetuates the frankly racist criteria of expecting POC exceptionalism for POCs to be considered for the base-line assumptions of acceptability that are afforded to their white counterparts. Saying that Stede’s love is what changed Ed’s behavior from cruelty to wholesale abandoning piratical principles is not only antithetical to what actually happens in the show, but suggests a read that POC Ed needs a good white man to show him how to behave, a real white knight to tame his savage heart. That’s some real White Man’s Burden shit there, bro. I highly recommend you put it down.

[allastoredeer]

Do you have any headcanons about Alastor's participation in WW1? The Selective Service Act of 1917 made it mandatory for men aged 21-30 to register for military service and was later expanded to include men as young as 18, so if the stream saying that Alastor was late thirties to early forties when he died is still canon he'd have lived through that

So, I hadn't gotten to this part in my development of Alastor's backstory, but it got me thinking because, huh, how DID Alastor manage to get out of that?

Unless he just served in WW1. Which...I find oddly funny. I don't know why, but the the image of Alastor in the trenches...

But anyway, you got me curious so I looked into it. You're 100% right about the Selective Service Act of 1917 making it mandatory for men aged 21-30 to register for military service, and they even came up with different "classes" of the men who qualified, and if they exhausted one class, they'd go down to the next.

However, even with the Selective Service Act, there was still a lot of draft evasion going on. In fact, a significant amount of draft evasion happened in the South, which, as I'm sure you know, Louisiana is part of (some of it was in part of Southerners not having documentation, and thus, unable to even legally draft, which would probably give them a whole other slew of problems).

So, I was looking into how people evaded the draft. A lot of it is split up into different groups, like draft avoidance and draft resistance, with their only little list of things, but that's a lot and I don't wanna get into all of that. But my bet is on Alastor doing draft avoidance.

And there were actually quite a few interesting ones, like:

Claiming to have a mental or psychological problem (if you could find a doctor willing to certify that for you)

Student deferment, when someone is primarily in school to learn and study (or obtaining one in an effort to avoid the draft)

Deliberately failing the military intelligence tests

Professing sincere or religious ethical beliefs (join a church, avoid the draft!)

Bribery

and my personal favorite:

Being homosexual.

Because, as you know, the government can't allow the gay in the military!

And look, I'm a silly goober, so of course I immediately went to Alastor claiming to be homosexual. But the thing is, I kind of do think that is something Alastor would do for a majority of reasons.

In the 1920's, social values were evolving, and a lot of postwar "youths" began questioning traditional concepts of family, sexuality, and gender. There were "little Bohemia's" around the US, including in Manhattan and San Francisco, with communities and groups like this, and they weren't exactly unknown.

Back to Alastor, he lived in the French Quarter in New Orleans (or, at least, that's where I think he lived as a majority of mixed-raced Creole people lived there, which we know Alastor canonically is). And it just so happens, that it became the birth place of New Orleans gay community in the 1920's. There were entire gay neighborhoods, there were clubs where people dressed in the clothing of the opposite gender, they had parties and bars, and while it wasn't "the norm" to live this "lifestyle," and there was still a lot of harassment, it was still fairly normal to see. (Of course, then came what we can call the "gay panic" where government started cracking down on it, and claiming the gay community were all predators and pedophiles, and - well, you know. You know.)

But that was after/close to Alastor's death, so...

Anyway, I 100% believe that Alastor did take part and lived in communities like those. Names and labels for those things didn't exist at the time, so it's not like he knows what they're called, but homosexuals, cross-dressing, drag queens, they were normal to him. He's lived with them, partied with them, maybe even tried a few things out himself(so many headcanons, guys. So many).

This is to say, I think Alastor would 100% be comfortable claiming to be homosexual to avoid getting drafted. You've seen getting married for tax benefits, now consider becoming gay for draft evasion! I actually had a pretty fun talk about it with a friend in Discord, which only cemented it in my mind LMAO.

I have SO many headcanons around Alastor and him living in the French Quarter, in gay communities, where they challenged social norms (and we all know how he feels about challenging status quo's 😏)

But if not that, my runner up is that he totally bribed his way out of it. I don't know how he got the money, maybe he killed someone and stole their wallet, IDK, but bribery is a yes from me.

And if not THAT one, then he joined and church and claimed to have sincere religious and ethical beliefs 😇 🙏 (Yes, this is inspired by Nun Alastor, and no, I do not take constructive criticism. That's what happened guys, I was there). Besides, New Orleans was pretty Catholic, I'm sure he could find a church somewhere.

That's my take on it XD I think the one closest to Alastor's canon character would be bribery, but this is fandom, and if I say he claimed to be gay to get out of going to war, then goddammit he claimed to be gay to get out of going to war.

[threadsun]

Anonymous Asks: "If ya get the time for it, I really wanna see some pet play stuff with the SDJ boys. More specifically, with us being the pet and the guys being the masters.

(Also, due to Nick's profession, I feel like he'd be WAY better at this than anyone lol)"

Content: petplay, tail plugs, gags,

Jack:

He doesn't have an animal preference, but he will default to you being a dog if it's left up to him

He wants you done up all cute, with ears and a tail plug and everything! He wants the fur to match your hair colour as well, so you look like a proper little puppy for him

He'll have you sit by his feet with your head in his lap, petting you slowly while he tells you all the dirty things he wants to do to you

He'll ramp it up slowly, first a collar and a bone gag, then telling you to fetch things or lay down or roll over, and finally fucking you doggy style as he pulls your tail to hear you howl for him

You'd better not be planning to say a word to him all night. Good puppies don't talk, after all! He'll only respond to barking~

Ian:

Doesn't matter what animal you are, he's treating you like you're the softest and most delicate thing in the world

He won't even think to collar you unless you ask. But he'll spend plenty on high quality ears and a tail for you! Even some cute little paw gloves and socks if you want

If you do want a collar, it'll end up being soft and comfortable and have a little tag with his name on it

Honestly, as much as he'll get horny and fuck you when you're in pet mode, he'll always want to start with cuddles and snuggles. He just wants a loving pet!

He usually goes into it intending for it to be nonsexual petplay, but his dick gets the better of him every time

Shaun:

Please be a cat please be a cat please be a cat! He'll accept any animal, but god does he want you to be a cat

If you're going into pet play with him, you'd best be ready for him to go all the way. A leather animal mask, leather mitts, tying your ankles to your thighs. You'll be on all fours the whole night

Look, he'll go soft petplay if you ask him to, but for him the appeal is making you as animalistic as possible

He'll have you eat from his hand. He'll talk to you like you're really just a pet. He'll show you how to go down on him or get ready for him to fuck you like it's your first time

He gets fully into the role of being your owner. You're his pet, and he'll love you and use you as he sees fit

Nick:

He's pretty experienced with petplay, and he doesn't really have an animal preference, though he likes rarer ones

He's all about the experience. Both making it a good one for both of you, and making it an interesting one for himself. He likes trying new things, so ask him for whatever you want

Everything takes a lot of negotiation with him. It's one of his favourite parts of sex! So be prepared to tell him what you want

You want a collar? He's got it! Ears and a tail? Check! Leash? Absolutely! Seriously, anything you could possibly want to use, he's got about ten of for you to choose from

Once you're actually in the scene, he's fully into the role of your owner and you as his pet

Joseph:

Joseph has a soft spot for puppies. He'll do petplay with you as any animal, of course, but puppies are his choice

He likes the way you look so happy just to be with him! The way you come to him when he pats his knees and the way you wiggle on your back when he rubs your belly

Seriously, the unconditional love and joy of a pet is something he desperately needs, so he cherishes it

He'll fuck you if that's what you want, but honestly he's just as happy to sit with you on the couch and cuddle while you're in petspace. It's soothing for him

If you do want him to fuck you, he'll be gentle and slow about it, making sure his sweet pet is happy~

Jean:

He may be soft with his actual pet, but he's not gonna be soft with you, no matter what animal you are

Seriously, he takes great delight in punishing you for everything. From trying to sit on the furniture to talking back to him to anything else he deems "unacceptable for a pet"

He'll impose harsh rules on you and any slight deviance from those rules will have him spanking your ass raw

He loves to fuck you right after a punishment when you're physically and emotionally bruised and off-balance. He'll tell you what a bad pet you are while pounding into you

He lives for the psychological and physical sadism of being your owner. You'd better be prepared...

Rory:

Any sort of pet is good for him! He's not very high energy, though, so don't expect him to do much active playing

More than anything, he wants a sweet pet who'll curl up with him and shyly grind against him because they're just so needy, and he can urge them under the covers

His favourite thing is watching his sweet little pet go down on him. Something about it drives him wild

Whenever he doesn't need his hands for anything else, he'll pet you. He loves petting you and praising you and letting you know you're the best thing he could ever have!

Seriously, he's horny and sweet with you the whole time! He loves you and wants you so much

Barry:

It doesn't matter if you're into petplay or not, Barry will eventually decide to turn you into his cow

You don't have a choice in the matter. He's getting you cow print lingerie, a cow bell, some ears and a tail. If it goes far enough, he'll even end up branding you

This is happening during work hours, as well. It's your new uniform, have fun! You're now required to moo in greeting too

Seriously, he gets such a kick out of your discomfort. He'll strap you up to a milking machine, put you on display, and charge people to fuck you if he can get away with it

He might branch out to other animals, but cow is generally his go-to because it's so humiliating for most people

[romanarose]

If You Wanna Be Wild: Chapter 1

Javier Peña x sex worker!informant!Reader/OC x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Javier has his ladies, and you are one of his favorites. When he gets a new partner to take down Lorea, a man 10 years younger than him, Javi suggests the boy let off some steam with a prosititute, Javi was not expecting Santi to find his favorite girl.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it.

For the record, this is a fic that takes place in the drug trade and deals with the darker side of humanity, so anything from Narco's and Triple Frontier is liable to be discussed or mentioned here. This is your warning. This is not a dark fic nor is it centered around darkt hemes like Leather and Lace or Sunshine Starlight Sweetheart Brightside, but they are open to be talked about.

Reader has a nick name: Candy. Not her real name just what she goes by on her profession. Much of the inspo for this and for the title came from the Bruce Springsteen song “Candy’s room” so check it out for the vibes.

Reader speaks Spanish and had hair, might be considered Latina coded but given it's a fic taking place in Colombia that much can be gleaned anyway.

4.1K Words. Plenty of perspective shifts from reader javi and santi. When told from javi and santis pov it’s third person and reader is referred to as she/her and candy

***************

When Javier came inside you, it was quicker than usual. He must be on a time crunch. Not that you were complaining, Javier had gotten you off and that was more than most clients did, seeing as they were paying for their orgasm, not yours. It was only fair, it’s not like you were in this business for fun, you were trying to survive. 

And survive you had! You’d done better for yourself than many of your fellow prostitutes, able to get out of a brothel where you were pimped out by shitty men who took more than their fair share of your money and a little side action for themselves. You’d saved up enough money to rent an apartment where you could do your own business for yourself and answer to no man except the ones who paid for your time. Being beautiful helped in this business, absolutely, but there were no lack of pretty girls, many of the workers on the streets and in brothels were plain or just ugly. It didn’t matter to the men who were just looking for a 5 minute fuck. Where your skills came was the inter-person. Sex, for most people anyway, was better when there was a connection of some sort; even those big scary drug lords like many of those you serviced liked to feel human connection, needed to know you wouldn’t laugh at them for their weird kinks, and sometimes just wanted to talk.

That is, you suspected, is why Javier Peña fucked you instead of the other girls around. Well, he definitely fucked other girls. But you got a good chunk of his time.

“Damn, Javi,” You laugh as he sets you down from where he had you up against the wall. “Only one position this time? You getting old?”

He laughs, breathless, making sure you were steady on your feet before he walked over to his pants. “Definitely old, but that’s not why. Gotta be up early to meet my new partner.” Javier, dark and gorgeous and a man of few words, yanked up his pants loose over his petite hips and pulled his pack of cigs and lit it before tossing them in your direction. You didn’t smoke a lot, but cigarettes after sex with Javi always hit just right. 

“Good luck with that. You’ve ran off the last 6.” Javi wasn’t the nicest man in the DEA, you knew; he wasn’t exactly loved and people weren’t jumping to work with him. Well, men weren’t anyway. 

A few years ago, he had a partner, Steve, and the two had gotten along damn well. Since then, Javi’s been going through partners like crazy. In the years since Pablo Escabar’s fall, cocaine has not stopped. You’d know, given that you’d partook just last weekend at an event.

“He’s gonna be the worst yet, I just know it.” Javi grumbled before taking a long drag and sitting on the couch where you joined him, legs propped up over his. “Some fresh-faced dumbass kid that’s never seen what the world is like outside his moms tits.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. You’d never do that with other clients; they needed to feel important, listened to. Javier didn’t care about that. “How old?”

“25.”

You laugh right in his face. “25 is hardly a kid, my brother had seen it all by the time he was 15!”

“Yeah, that’s because your family-” He stopped, looking to you before deciding better than to complete that sentence. “Never mind,” Javi muttered.

“Smart boy.”

*

Javier Peña wouldn’t describe himself as hard to work with.

Others would, however.

Sometimes they took issue with his womanizing, but Javier contested this, saying he always paid the women more than fair, never seduced married women, never pressured or coerced.

 He simply paid women for what they had, and instead of them spending the night with some asshole who wanted a quick fuck, someone who might hurt them, or an otherwise unpleasant night, they got to spend it with him. Not that Javi thought he was hot shit, but at least he could treat the girl right, make them cum. Additionally, he watched out for the women he slept with. Not all were his informants, but all of them could call him if they were in trouble.

The rest of them just couldn’t do what it took and couldn’t fire back what Javi shot out, not like Steve. Asshole. Asshole for leaving him. 

This kid was going to be no better, but at least he could speak spanish.

He hoped.

Last name was Garcia, but those American’s often can’t speak their mother tongue, especially if they are third generation.

The boy that walked in was already annoying him with his stupid mustache. Javi’s mustache wasn’t stupid, let’s get that straight. He looked good in a mustache. This kid looked stupid.

“Agent Garcia, nice to meet you.” The boy looked nervous as he reached a hand out to him.

“I’m not calling you that.” Great start, Javier. Great start.

“Oh. Uhhhh…”

“I’m Javi.”

“Santi, I guess.”

Santi looked a little deflated, he was probably looking forward to being called ‘Agent Garcia’, and Javi only felt a little bad. He remembered being that fresh-faced kid, so he threw him a bone. Javier leaned against his desk, arms crossed. “What brought you out here, Garcia?”

He brightened up just a bit at being referred to by his last name at least. “Just got out of the military, special ops.” He said proudly. “Wanted to come back to my mom’s home country, make a difference.”

Interesting bit of lore, there, and Javi couldn’t decide if it made him like the kid more or not. One one hand, the comment about his mom with a twinkle in his eye was endearing, but just showed that naivete he had. On the other, being in special ops was no small accomplishment and he was certain Santi had seen at least his fair share of death.

“No woman keeping you down?”

“No sir,” he stood with his hands clasped tight behind his back as if Javi was his drill sergeant. “My work doesn’t leave much time for that sort of thing.”

Javi wondered briefly if he was a virgin, he’s met a few military types who were into their later years, but decided it was none of his business.

That didn’t last long.

Santi did fine. It was fine. Better than fine, actually, and after a few months the DA was less irritated with Javi running off men and put the pair on a case; something he hadn’t had since Escobar. Gabriel Martin Lorea was someone who had made one hell of a name for himself in recent years, many considering him a successor to Escabar, but Lorea had yet to dip his toes into politics the way his predecessor had, and Lorea would never be too powerful without is fingers in the pockets off government and lobbyists and media. Maybe he just didn’t have the charm Escabar had, the ability to manipulate and sway… Gabriel Lorea was, from all accounts, handsome, but, according to the women Javi slept with and absolutely not Javi himself, too handsome to gain people's trust.

Javi didn’t hate Santi, he did good work and had skills to match, but christ the boy was optimistic, he tended to believe the best in people and that had gotten them into some problems as well, but nothing so much that Javier had taken issues with the kid, not when Santi was able to get them out of there alive.

 It was nice, honestly, to have someone he could talk to just a little bit. He’d be lying if he said it hadn’t gotten lonely, and it took a lot for Javier to swallow his pride and call Steve, but luckily Steve took mercy and just called him once a month or so. 

Thing was, sometimes Santi got a little pent up, his polite and calm demeanor slipping and taking it out of Javi usually. 

“Jesus, Garcia, what’s up with you?”

Santi had snapped at Javi over a joke Javi made about Santi putting sugar in his coffee. He had a guilty look as soon as he was chastised, looking like a caught kid. 

“Sorry, Javi…”

“Oh come on” He ruffled the young man’s curls before Santi shoved him away to smooth them down again. “What’s on your mind, someone play with your Flash Gordon action figures?”

“You have no idea what kids play with, do you?”

Javier just cocked an eyebrow at him, and Santi continued.

“Just been stressed is all.”

Thinking back to their first conversation, Javi wondered when the last time Santi got some was. He was a good looking guy, that was just obvious, didn’t have to be gay to figure that out, and he had a good job. There was no reason he couldn’t  get a one night stand, a girlfriend, or a damn wife if he wanted. Santiago was kind, empathetic, and the nice smile that women would fall head over heels for; Santi doesn’t see how the girls swoon over him, even Colleen who was well over Javier’s antics.

“When was the last time you got your dick wet.”

Santi’s coffee went everywhere, staining his cream colored shirt and the nice slacks he refused to trade in for jeans like Javier did.

“W- I- WHAT?!”

He was laughing so hard, Javi couldn’t fucking get a reply out for a minuet, every time Javi looked over to Santi, covered in coffee and eyes wide in horror, he kept laughing more. When he finally calmed down, Javi tossed over some napkins. “Sex, Santi. Sex. It’s normal we all do it. Or maybe you don’t, which is why I’m asking.”

Santiago wouldn’t look at him, shuffling a bit as he tried to dab himself clean. “Well… well it maybe- it might have… it might have been a while.”

“Garcia.” Javier turned to face Santi, attempting to catch his eye. “Man. How long’s it been? A few months? Since you came here.”

He muttered something, and at first Javi wasn’t sure he heard right.

“What was that?”

“Three years?”

Javi about spit out his own coffee after that. Three years? Javier didn’t like going more than three days!

“Are you kidding me?”

“Oh fuck off.” Santi was none too pleased with the prodding, but Javi followed after him, teasing his way down the hall. “It’s gotta be for lack of trying, isn’t it?”

“Go away!”

“Pretty boy like you, all you gotta do is walk down to a bar and ladies will be throwing themselves at you!”

“Fuck off!”

“You could just do it the old fashioned way.”

Santi stopped, turning on a heel so fast Javi crashed into him, too distracted by his goading.

“What does that mean?”

“Hire a woman. Or a man. Or a few, I don’t pass judgment.” He smirked, knowing the teasing was working.

A look of disgust crossed his face, youthful features crinkling. “A prostitute?” He was whispering.

“Yeah Garcia, a PROSTITUTE.” An intentional shout to embarrass the blushing virgin. “It’s not a dirty word, amigo.”

Santi’s eyes went wide at Javi’s emphasis, looking around to see if he had been caught. “How are you so casual?” He still spoke quietly.

Undisturbed, Javi once again leaned against a wall, shrugging. “World’s oldest profession. Nothing dirty about it. Well, if you’re using condoms, anyway.” He smirks.

It took a minute for Santi to process what he had just said. “You mean… You…” He couldn’t say it outloud.

Javi’s laugh was loud and boisterous. “Hired hookers? Yeah, of course I have.”

“I figured you could just… um… well, pick up women.”

There was a swell of pride to Javi’s words that the man thought that much of him. “I can, trust me. But to woo a woman, to find someone that wants you, trusts you enough, is enthusiastically willing… It's a long game, sometimes. A game I am more than willing to play, sometimes; I do enjoy willing a girl over, watching her open up for me, blossom… hmmmm…” He got a little distracted, words wandering off.

“I get the picture.” He said with a grimace. 

“Well, the point is, if I’m doing that, I’m doing it right. Taking my time. With hookers, I just gotta pay ‘em. Don’t worry, I make sure they enjoy their time too” Javi winked, eliciting a gag from Santi before they both went back to work.

*

A worm had been planted in Santi’s head, that was for sure. His dry spell and overall lack of experience in general was more for lack of trying than anything else. In the army, he was so career oriented, signing up for an initial 3 year term at 17 right out of high school, and quickly working his way up. When the time came to enlist for 7 years or quit and have a civilian life he never knew, the choice was easy, especially when he was promised a spot on an special ops team with his best friend. 

For 5 years he saw all the beauty and horror the world had to offer him, and was so focused on his career, so intent on making his way to general, nothing else in the world mattered. Not gambling, not women, not drugs or alcohol or any of the vices his brothers-in-arms surrounded themselves with. He’s seen his fair share of war, having of course been sent to Vietnam a few times, but his team wasn’t meant to die in a field in bloody masses like how the US government saw the poor teenagers they sent off to die in the war, they upheld: special, different, better. Santi didn’t feel better, that’s for sure. He certainly didn’t feel good watching people die on either side, nor did it make him feel special when he learned of the horrors mnn in camps would inflict on the local villagers just trying to survive. It didn’t make him feel special when Santi tried to tell his commander, Redfly, what was going on with the other men, what they were doing, and Redfly crushed him off as spoils of war… So he, Catfish, Benny and Ironhead became more and more secluded, unable to put an end to what was happening and only able to stop what they actually knew about. That’s why the four of them were so close, he supposed.

But they were never there for long. The army spent too many resources on them to put a gun in their hand and leave them to die in the jungle, no, they had no covert operations, things the CIA didn’t want out. By the end of things, Santi had dealings with Russia, Cuba, Korea, Germany, China, Japan, Chile, anywhere there was a whisper of communism that the powers that be decided were more important than everyone starving in the US, Santiago Garcia was there.

He put up with it, because he needed to, because he was going to work his way up, get in positions of power. He wouldn’t be like Tom and let rape run rampant in his men. He would keep moving up, and change things for the better. He wanted to help people.

In the end, getting shot in the neck was a good thing.

They thought he was done for, Tom telling the others to just leave him when he was shot and bleeding out but Ironhead lifted Santo over his shoulders and carried him out of the warzone himself. In the end, after hours of surgery, Santi lived, although he was never the same physically. He was honorably discharged, him and Ironhead meteled up for their silence, and with that Santi, or Pope as he’d been called was sent on his way.

“Are you able to tell me where you’re at?” Santi spoke over the phone. His old teammate, Catfish, had called him. Santi couldn’t really call any of them, he never knew where they were. Sometimes they didn’t either.

“No, sorry.”

“Not even a clue?”

“Pope, you know these phone calls are all monitored.”

“Yeah I know.”

There was a long silence. There often was, between them. When Ben called, he happily chattered away on the other line. When it was Will, there was always good back and forth. With Frank, however, his oldest friend, there was often silence, but it was always comfortable. They enjoyed just existing with each other. Frankie was a troubled man himself, and part of the reason Santi went where he went. He knew, in the end, Frank made his own choices, but a part of him held a personal anger towards the drug trade for what it sucked his friend into. 

“Frank, you ever… hire a prostitute?”

Another pause. “Sometimes. You?”

“No. My partner suggested it, he said I was a little.. Uptight.”

Frankie laughed at that, and unlike Javi he didn’t feel like he was being laughed at. Frankie never laughed at you, only with. “Yeah, sounds like you.”

“Hey now.”

Frankie thought for a minute. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea. Even Will went a few times.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, even the man of steel needs some love’n. I got the notion it was more time with his face between their legs and talking than anything else. I think he was mostly lonely.”

“You hire a hooker just for company? Seems dumb.”

“You hire a woman to listen to you, compliment you, let you feel some human connection, a feminine touch for once. Getting your rocks off is just a bonus.”

“So you think I should?”

“Look, I’m not gonna tell you to blow money on what you could probably get for free. I’ll just say… buy a condom.”

“Lot of condom talk these days.”

“Yeah, lack of condom talk is how I ended up with your goddaughter.”

“Wouldn’t trade her for the world.”

*

How does one go about finding a prostitute? It was like drugs… you kinda just needed to know someone already, or maybe run into them on the street. 

Or maybe you steal your partner’s contact list. 

Javi wasn’t subtle, that was for sure, and he had a whole separate section just for prostitutes… classless, that man. Santi flipped through the name, looking at the assortment of addresses and numbers as his heart thrummed against his chest. If he was being honest, he probably could just asked Javi for a recommendation, but he’d never get through the humiliation of it all, and Javi would never drop the subject. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, exactly. It wasn’t like the names had pictures next to them and Javi wasn’t quit crass enough to put “Lupe, 28, hot, big tits, no ass, dick sucking 7/10”, to Santi’s slight surprise. Maybe he remembered each of them, their best and worst traits. Maybe it didn’t matter as long as he got off… 

Santi flipped through to the end, then flipped back. Then through again and back again until he was starting to feel like this was a bad idea. Just pick one, dumbass. he told himself. Go in, cum, get out. He continued his downward spiral of self loathing and insecurity until he decided to just open the book and write down the first name he saw.

Candy.

*

When Santi stood at the door, waiting to knock until exactly 9:00 PM, he was debating turning around. She sounded nice enough on the phone, a voice that put him at ease, but now facing the door… he wanted to run. 

And he almost did. Actually, he tried too,turning around and ready to make a break for it when the door opened.

“Diego?”

Oh yeah. The fake name he had given her. Santi turned around. She was beautiful, stunning even, with dark red lipstick complimenting your reflection. He wondered how she was supposed to give a blowjob with lipstick like that. Did she give blowjobs? Did prostitutes have stuff they didn’t do? Of course they do, pendejo, they’re people too. Santi’s shame at his own inner monologue must have translated to his face, guilt that what he was… what was the word his sister used? Objectifying? Was he making her out to be a thing for his pleasure instead of a woman? Was he part of the problem? His older sister had made him read a few feminist theory books back in the day. She didn’t want him growing up to be a bastard like their dad. Did his dad ever hire prostitutes?

“Are you a cop?” She said, snapping Santi out of his daze.

“Uh….” Fuck. He could lie, couldn’t he? Did she know? He looked down at his clothes to check he wasn’t wearing his badge or anything. Smooth move. “No?” Great job.”

You cross your arms and cock and eyebrow. “Then you gotta proposition me, Diego.”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“If I say it and you’re wearing a wire, I go to jail again and I doubt my friend can pull strings a 4th time, so. You make the proposition and then you can’t charge me, since it’s entrapment.”

Santi briefly wondered where she learned this, but when the weight of her words struck, he found himself with a new problem. “You… you want me too…”

A small smile crept up her face, causing her lips to twitch. “You can say it, you’re a big boy. Or at least out here you are. You wanna be babied in there,” She nods inside her room. “Well, that’s no one’s business.” Punctuating the sentence with a wink, she waits for him.

Everything felt warm all of a sudden, his mouth dry and thick and he almost couldn’t do it… but the way she looked right now… he needed her.

“Do you… want to… have sex?”

“For?”

Now he was confused. “For?

“Yeah, what am I exchanging the sex for, because you might be handsome, but it sure isn’t love. Yet.” Another wink.

“Oh! Uh… do you want to have sex… for… money?”

Santi watched as all her features relaxed, a bright smile illuminating her face and the whole room along with it. “Perfect! It sounds fucking stupid, I know, but I need to get it out of the way with new clients. Come on in, Diego.”

Candy took Santi into her room, and was surprised by the look; all around him were wall to wall posters and printed out pictures of idols spanning decades. Farrah Fawcet, Don Henly, Judy Garland, James Dean, Stevie Nicks, Mae West, Shirley Temple, Rock Hudson…

“You like ‘em?” She asked, watching him.

“Yeah… it’s quite a collection. Whose that?” He pointed to a picture in sepia tone  of a pretty girl with red curls, heart shaped lips, and thin, drawn on eyebrows.

Candy stepped up next to Santi. “Clara Bow, the original ‘It’ girl of Hollywood, a silent movie star. Lived a hell of a life too. Friend died in her arms, was sexually abused, suicide attempt, addiction… survived it all.”

“That’s incredable…” Santi’s amazement wasn’t faked.

“All these people are inspiring to me in some way or another.”

“I like… I like the James Dean one.”

She smiled at that. “I bet you would, handsome.” The picture was of James Dean laying on a motorcycle, smoking, of course. “You got a motorcycle, guapo?”

He couldn’t help but blush at the nickname. “No, a fun idea in theory… but maybe a bit too wild for me.”

“But hiring a hooker isn’t?”

Despite his desire to look cool, calm and collected, Santi gave a blushing smile. “You got me there.” 

“Now.” With grace, Candy slid right up to Santiago, touching his arms. “I take it this is your first time with a sex worker.” Her smile was soft and reassuring.

Santi let out a breath, allowing himself to ease into her touch; she was good at this, somehow looking that goddamn hot and still managed to make him feel secure, safe. “That obvious, huh?” He chuckled.

Cocking her head to the side with a sly smile, Candy’s red-painted lips drew him in as she spoke. “Professional intuition. What brings you here?”

“Uhhhmmmm… sex?”

“Be honest” Her tone… it struck him down to his core, pulling at all his mommy issues. He wanted her to tell him exactly what to do from here on out.

He cleared his throat. “Well… been a bit of a dry spell, and… well… maybe a general lack of experience in general.” Santi’s embarrassment caused him to look away, but Candy gently grabbed his chin, no doubt feeling the stubble on his face from his day off. 

“No need to be shy, pretty boy.” Candy held his gaze, mystifying him more with every second she seemed to bare into his soul, knowing all the parts of him he tried to keep secret. He was baring his soul without a word. “We’re gonna get to know each other really well here.”

***************

I HOPPPPPE YOU LIIIIIIIIKKEEEEEEEEE

Im v worried bc the tag list is already so long lololololol im scared I wont live up to the hype. (Also although I've written a lot for santi ive never written for Javi before and havnt even seen all of narcos)

thank you to @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction for helping me proofread!

I'll have a masterlist up soon bc my dearest mona is making me a moodboard bc she's the bestest

Comment to be added to the tag list!

Reblogs help spread the work, comments mean the world!

tagging everyone who asked to be atgged or showed interest in this, if you arent interested anymore just lmk and ill stop tagging you!

@runa-falls @lunar-ghoulie @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @itspdameronthings @persephone-girl @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @beelzebeth87 @pimosworld @millerscoffee @heareball @thatwonderouswoman @poolbool @meveispunk @lovable-liar @millllenniawrites @read-and-wip @missdictatorme @the-fox-den @milkymoon2483 @k-ra @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @rosellacwrites @legendary-pink-dot @dreamingofbucky @tieronecrush

[artful-aries]

Genshin ​​Headcanons: When You Are In Danger (Ningguang, Alhaitham, Itto)

​​Got inspired to do this for these three, I’m trying to branch out with more characters. Feel free to request other characters for this prompt, or new prompts!

​​Ningguang:

​​Being the significant other of the Tianquan lends a certain degree of danger by default, and you are no exception. For all the power this position holds, people naturally try to find weak points to exploit. You happen to be the only potential weak spot of Ningguang

​​She has a thousand plans for this possibility, and probably a thousand more contingency plans should her others fail. You being in danger is not a risk worth taking in her eyes

​​So it naturally comes as a surprise when you do end up in danger; you were always a point of unpredictability for her, an aspect that she usually admired in you, but at this moment she wished your actions were easier to predict so that she could protect you

​​A group of businessmen hire some professionals to kidnap you, hoping to use you as leverage so that Ningguang may sway business in their favor in return for receiving you unharmed. You were blind sided by these professionals under the guise of helping an older man bring groceries to his home just outside of Liyue harbor

​​The businessmen’s plans are extremely short lived; they failed to realize just how powerful and far the reach of the Tianquan goes

​​Ningguang doesn’t need to come rescue you herself, but she wants to on principle. If you mess with those that she cares about, you will face her wrath personally

​​She naturally makes quick work of your captors, having the Milileth arrest them on the spot. From there, you see a rare softness in Ningguang as she inspects you carefully to make sure that you aren’t hurt. She then lectures you about not trusting strangers no matter how harmless they may seem

​​No one would notice unless they knew where to look, but after retrieving you Ningguang is relieved, releasing all the tension from her shoulders. She’ll give you a quick kiss on the forehead before bringing you back to the Jade Chamber.

​​She makes a point to review her budget to see if she can hire the best bodyguards to accompany you wherever you go when she can’t be there to escort you herself

​​

​​Alhaitham:

​​He’s similar to Ningguang in that he has plans and back up plans to ensure your safety. While his profession isn’t quite as dangerous, he still likes to be prepared for potential possibilities

​​The day you are kidnapped by a band of rouge Eremites and held for ransom comes only as a brief surprise, but Alhaitham is level headed about the whole situation

​​It doesn’t take him long to find out where they are holding you, after all, these guys weren’t nearly smart enough to be able to elude him for long. He takes them out quicker than he found you, as though they never stood a chance against him

​​When he rescues you, you almost wonder if he was even worried about your safety at all, he’s so calm about it. He even has the nerve to ask why you let yourself get captured

When you ask him why he’s so relaxed after you had just been kidnapped, he tells you that he never had any doubt in your resilience, or in his ability to be able to find you before the situation got too out of control

​​His nonchalant attitude makes you want to slap the fool out of him, but before you start to get really angry with Alhaitham he will kiss your hand, saying, “As long as I am around, you don’t have to worry about danger. I will keep you safe no matter what.”

​​From anyone else it would just come across as arrogant, and perhaps it is a little arrogant on his part, but you trust his word all the same.

​​

​​Itto:

​​Panic sets in quicker than he loses onikabuto fights, he instantly is fretting over your well being. His panic turns outwardly into determination to get you back

​​He wants to, no, he IS going to save you, but what if you’re hurt before he can get to you? Itto doesn’t even let himself consider the possibility

Enlists the Arataki gang to help him find you, and thanks to Shinobu they find that you managed to have a bad run in with some Nobushi and are being held hostage by them

​​Itto goes in guns blazing, not having a plan beyond grabbing you and getting the hell out of there

​​Despite his usual idiotic antics, he takes rescuing you extremely seriously, not wasting any time in dispatching the Nobushi who dared to capture HIS loved one

​​When you are officially rescued and out of harms way, Itto gathers you up in an almost bone crushing, desperate hug.

​​He’ll play off his behavior of course, saying something along the lines of, “What? Psh, nah, me? Scared? As if! These guys were no match for the great Arataki Gang! They wouldn’t have been able to hurt you if they tried, they were seriously out of their league going up against us.”

​​His eyes reveal his true thoughts; he was extremely worried about you, and almost feels a little guilty for not getting to you sooner, even though you’re thankfully unharmed

​​If you tell him what a good job he did, he will practically be eating out of your hand for a while. He will also incessantly brag about how he saved you, daring the Tenryou Commission to try and take him down, a boast that Shinobu puts a stop to immediately

​​

[zeegaazeegaah]

A gavi x reader where reader is a physiotherapist for the spanish football team and during a game he gets hurt, nothing serious. But she helps him with the injury and he developes a crush so big that the entire team knows, even her. So one day someone else (teammate) asks her out infront of gavi, because he's trying to show that if he doesn't do anything she will eventually move on. The guys helpes him realise that he must confess and he does only for her to say that she knew but didn't think he would actually ask her, thanks.

crush; gavi

word count: 2,034 (I got carried away)

Gavi has been in this room more often than anyone, and he doesn't know how to feel about it. He can't help what he feels either. No athletes prefer getting injured. In fact, it's safe to say they hate it. It hinders them from doing their best or worse; it completely prevents them from playing. Knowing all that, it's still hard to not be injured. As awful as getting injured is, it's also impossible to not get hurt in this profession. To not sprain a muscle or two, to not twist an ankle, to not develop a bruise from being kicked too hard in the calf, but it is what it is.

He has sprained his muscles, twisted his ankle countless times, and ended up in the same room. It's not like he enjoys getting injured. Being the type of athlete he is, it almost drives him to insanity even at the thought of having to rest and missing out on practices. Unfortunately, the worst had still happened to him. There was this one time his ankle was injured so badly he had started to question if he could play any longer.

Much to his distress, he still remembers the feeling vividly. Face drained from colour, his heartbeat raced so fast that it started to hurt him in the chest. An emptiness settled in his stomach as his mind began to race, thinking of all the what-ifs that were only doing worse to him mentally.

To this day, he thinks if he could've ever survived that period of his life without completely sabotaging his mental health if not for her. He remembers that day vividly, all the bad and good. She was new, much much younger than he expected. Only a bit older than him. He saw her replacing the previous physiotherapist before, but he had personally never been checked by her till then. He had no interest either. Until, his situation forced him to interact with her. Not only did she do her job to lessen his physical pain and get him to stand on his feet, but also went extra mile to make sure his mental health stayed intact.

It's as if she could see through him, take one look at him, and tell he was constantly beating himself up for his condition. She would pat his head, rub his back, and play the role of a psychotherapist despite it not being her job to do so. There were times when her jokes would keep him laughing, and smiling throughout the day. She'd make him forget he wasn't miserable. And at some point, he began to feel his pulse, quickening every time she had to sit down beside him. His face would warm up, and worse, he would stutter.

This did not go unnoticed by his club mates, and once he recovered, he was the victim of their relentless teasing. Every time she had to check them for a check-up, the stares, the looks that they all sent simultaneously had him panicking on multiple occasions, fearing she'd pick it up and find out. Find out about the painful crush he has developed on her. Thankfully, she was always way too focused on her job to seem to notice any of it.

And there he is, once again, in the same room where she usually resides for most of her working hours unless she is standing with a clipboard in her hands, listing down the physical condition of the team. He feels stupid for feeling giddy but he can't help it either. He isn't seriously injured or anything this time, he woke up to a numb leg that was bothering him. He could easily fix it by working out but he just didn't feel like it. Plus, it would give him an excuse to be here.

She peeks from behind the curtain before walking up to him. Taking a once-over at him, she pointed to the bruises littered under his left eye and another over it. "You…" she begins, a small smile on her face as she reprimands him gently, "body injury is one thing but face injury? Seriously?"

Without waiting for his response, she moves to the other side of the room to wear gloves before returning to sit beside him on the bed with cottons in her hand and a bottle of something he couldn't quite decipher what it is. She pours the liquid on the cotton before gently taking his chin on her palm, dabbing the wet cotton on the bruises around his eyes to which he winces. Her face is merely two metres away from his. Yet again, he feels his cheeks heating up as he feels her breath on it and takes a gulp.

There's something about the way she has always handled him. Despite being smaller in size, she treated him like a fragile glass. Always gently handling him, whether it be his body or his face. She was never hasty to get her job done. She never looked annoyed at him or even tired. How could he not like her?

"Gavi?" She waves a hand over his eyes to which he comes back to his senses. "You didn't come here for me to disinfect your facial bruises, right? Because I'm gonna be honest, that's not exactly what my job is."

"Oh, yeah. My right leg feels weird for some reason."

To which a frown takes over her face. "And… you couldn't exercise it out?" she raises a brow at him, knowing full well he could've done that.

He coughs awkwardly at that. It's simply the truth. "I could but I don't feel like it." He says, a sheepish smile forming on his face as he looks her in the eye.

"Okay…" Her eyebrows are furrowed when she replies, taking a look at his right leg. She moves his 'numb' leg in multiple directions using her hands before making him do some light exercise on that leg for the blood to circulate properly again.

"You're good to go but before that, I need to advise you about something. You should not…"

Gavi is not listening, he is absently toying with the hem of his shirt as he stares at her talking to him about something possibly important for him to know. He starts daydreaming right then and there; of her back hugging him, of her soft hands holding his face not for medical purposes but to look at him with a loving look in her eyes.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Pedri enters the room to see the embarrassingly obvious longing look on Gavi's face that seemed to go unnoticed by her as she's busy telling him what to avoid and what to do. He fakes a loud cough before clapping his hands to get their attention, "When are you clocking out?"

She jerks her head to look at him, "Me? In an hour, why?"

"Let's get coffee." He says, a smug look on his face that has Gavi's blood pressure increasing.

No, it couldn't be happening. Since when did Pedri take an interest in her?

"You don't drink coffee, Pedri." She replies, a blank look on her face.

"Then, tea. "

"You don't drink that either. Plus, isn't it too late for coffee and tea?"

"It's never too late for coffee and tea."

"I don't know. I don't feel like going anywhere else other than home if I am being frank."

Gavi tries hard to fight the grin from forming to no avail. Pedri takes a glance at him and winks.

"Okay." He shrugs, completely unaffected as if he just didn't get rejected.

×××

They're in the dressing room after practice when Gavi steals a glance at Pedri's direction to which Pedri raises his brows and asks, "What?"

"I am confused. What was that yesterday?" Gavi asks, tilting his head to the side while rubbing the back of his neck.

The older boy laughs, "I had to do something to get you to your senses."

Gavi's mouth forms in an O before he huffs with a pout on his lips, looking hopeless. "If she blatantly rejected you like that, what makes you think she wouldn't do the same to me?"

The older boy gasps like it's the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. "You can't be serious, Gavi."

"What did I do now-"

"There's no way she doesn't know you have a crush on her. Everybody can tell. They don't even have to confirm."

Gavi gulps at that, the fear of rejection resurfacing somewhere in his head. "But… but…"

"Listen, Pablo. She will move on. She isn't gonna wait for you and even if you could get rejected, doesn't mean you should never confess and live with the guilt of not trying at all. It sucks more when that happens. But I believe she won't reject you. Something tells me she likes you back."

"You think so?" He asks, nervous.

"I believe so."

That's all he needed.

×××

Gavi is pacing outside her room, he is jittery. There is a lump in the back of his throat that is too painful for him to swallow. He hasn't been this nervous even before matches in a while. He eyes the other end of the hallway and wonders if he should just dash out and save himself from this situation. Then again, running away would be far worse when he has spent hours making up his mind last night.

She appears from her room. Her sundress indicates it's a saturday. Eyebrows shooting up at the sight of him waiting for her, she walks to him to hold him by the shoulders, "Gavi? What are you doing here?"

He doesn't wanna spend any time beating around the bush so he manages a, "Can we get c-coffee?" Unfortunately, stumbling upon the last word to which she chuckles. His cheeks redden.

"What's with you, Pedri and coffee? Both of you don't drink it." She asks, visibly amused.

Gavi closes his eyes. He can't do this. He takes a deep breath before opening his eyes to look her in the eye and before he could even decipher what he was doing, his hands reached to hold hers. "I like you and… if you'd like I-I would like to take you on a date."

The response he receives shocks him. She intertwines her hands with his, chuckling, "Well, what's stopping you?"

"Why… are you not surprised?" He frowns.

"Cause… I knew?"

"How?" He frowns harder, "did Pedri tell you?"

She ends up laughing at his reaction. "Gavi, I don't know if anyone told you this but it's painfully obvious when you have a crush. Your cheeks are red, you are shaky, you seem nervous. It's all so cute but so painful to watch that I almost considered freeing you from this burden by confronting you about it."

Her eyes stare deeply into his as if trying to read him more but it also lets him know she doesn't feel any different than he does. Her lips beg to form in a smile that she suppresses with all her might yet it's obvious.

He tugs her into a hug so quickly she lets out a yelp in surprise. "Woah!" she exclaims, wrapping her arms around him before he rests his head on her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Hugging you." He mumbles before breathing out, "I've wanted to do this since forever."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Something about you screams comfort and peace to me. Always wanted to feel at peace in your arms." And before he realises what he has said, she separates from the hug. Her hands reach out to hold his face and stare at him with a longing look.

"You're so… you've been putting me on a pedestal. I'm a bit concerned. Did my hug live up to your expectations?"

He only nods, unable to take his eyes off hers. "Wait, since when have you been crushing on me?" He asks, curious all of a sudden as he grins.

"Who said I have a crush on you?"

He frowns.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm only teasing you. Now, will you actually take me out now or will we talk here the entire night?"

×××

A/N: What an insanely good request.

[crowleysgirl67]

New Neighbor

Author: @crowleysgirl67

Word Count: 1239

Parings/Characters: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: fluff, angsty, reid getting injured,   

A/N: Thanks for reading! 

Arms leadened with groceries you struggled to get your key in your apartment door. You let out an exasperated sigh as one of the bags toppled over and onto the floor. Setting the bags down you aggressively opened the door and picked up a few bags again and took them inside. When you came back for the rest a moppy brown-haired gentleman was bagging the things you'd dropped. 

“Oh you don’t need to do that, I could have gotten it.” you bent down to help him.

He smiled, “It’s no problem. I’m Spencer.”

“(Y/N). It’s nice to meet you Spencer. Thank you for your help.”  

“My pleasure. You’re new to the building aren’t you?” he asked, following you in with your groceries. 

“Yeah I moved in on Thursday.”   

“Makes sense why I haven’t seen you yet. I just got back into town from work last night.” he set your bags on the counter. 

“You travel a lot for work?” you ask as you begin to put things away.

“Quite a bit. Honestly I’m probably out for work more than I am home.” 

“As long as you enjoy what you do, I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing.”  

“It can be grueling, but I do enjoy it.” 

“Then that’s what matters.”

“What about you? Do you enjoy your work?” he asked, looking about your living room.

 “I do. I have freedom to do what I want to.” you finished putting the last of the groceries away and put on a kettle for tea. You pulled out your tray of different teas and offered it to Spencer to look through. 

“I noticed your doctorates on the wall.” he commented as he looked.

“Yeah. I am a psychiatrist.” you pulled two mugs out from the cupboard. “I also write, which is my main ‘job’. Most of my books are done under a pen name unless I’m writing about the psych field.” you add seeing as he looked confused about how you’d have free time as a doctor. 

“You don’t practice?” he questioned.

“Not really, not anymore at least. I keep up on my credentials and I help occasionally at the local hospitals if needed.” 

The kettle squealed and you pulled it off pouring the water into the mugs. 

“Do you mind if I ask why?” He took the mug you scooted over and put his tea in it.

“Not at all. I was attacked by a patient who had severe delusions. As a result I decided to take a step back from that.” 

“Makes sense.” he nods.

“I’m no cop, that's for sure.” you slid over the sugar.

“Making an educated guess about my profession I see. It’s close. I’m an FBI agent” he chuckled.

“Where the travel part comes in.”

“Exactly.” 

***

Over the next few months you and Spencer became close friends. He even had you apartment sit while he was out of town on cases. You didn’t mind and enjoyed his company when you had the opportunity to hang out.

One evening your cell rang and you answered thinking it might be Spencer.

“Is this (Y/N)?” a female voice on the other end asked.

“Depends, who are you?” you asked wary of unknown callers.

“My name’s Penelope Garcia. I’m the BAU technical analyst, I work with Dr. Reid.”

“Oh, Spencers told me a lot about you guys. It’s nice to put a voice to a name. What can I help you with?”

“He asked me to give you a call. He’s a little out of it.”

“Why? What happened?” you stood up from your spot on your couch, on alert. 

“He was injured in the field, nothing life threatening thankfully”

“What happened?” you asked, gathering your stuff into an overnight bag.

“He was shot in the shoulder.” she replies with a quiet voice.

“Where is he? What hospital? What city? I can be there within a matter of hours.”

Garcia and you worked out the details and you gathered what you needed for an overnighter or two and went to his apartment and gathered a few things for him as well. As promised you were there in a matter of hours.

“(Y/N)?” a dark haired man approached you as you entered the floor Spencer was on.

“Agent Hotchner I presume. Penelope said you and your team would be here.” you shook his hand. 

“Correct. It’s a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances.” he brings you over to the rest of the team and introduces you.

“You got here fast.” Rossi comments.

“The perks of having money is you pay people to make it happen fast.” you chuckled softly. “How is he?”

“Alright. He’s asleep now.” Derek answered.

“Was it a through and through?”  

“Yes.” Derek replied.

“I’m here!” Penelope's voice drifted down the hall as she approached. 

“Baby girl, what are you doing here?” Derek asks. Everyone looked surprised to see her as well.

“(Y/N) brought me. Did you know she has her own private jet? Like the one we use is cool but hers is fabulous.”   

“She said your case was over. I figured it didn’t hurt to bring her if I was coming anyway.” you shrug off the looks they were giving you.

“Oh we so have to see it later.” Emily pipes in. 

“Hey guys.” Spencer says and everyone turns to face him.

“You should be resting. Why are you up?” you made your way to his side and guided him into one of the chairs. 

“I’m fine.” 

“You wouldn’t be in a hospital hooked up to an IV with a hole in your shoulder if you were fine Spence.” you flagged down a nurse “Could you get me a wheelchair and Dr. Reid's chart please.” 

She glanced at you, noticing the hospital badge, before nodding, “Of course Doctor.” 

“Thank you.” you smiled and turned your attention back to Spencer.

“I don’t need a wheelchair. I walked out here didn’t I?” he pouts. “Garcia? When did you get here?” he asked as he seemed to just notice her.

“And that’s why you need the chair.” you thank the nurse as you took his file, and parked the chair next to him.

***

Spencer was on modified duty for the weeks following the incident. You were there helping him. You took up making sure he did his physical therapy exercises, and cooking the two of you sharing meals at one of your apartments frequently. His friends checked in on him regularly, giving you the opportunity to get to know them better as well. 

“Hey (Y/N).” Spencer greeted you as he walked in your apartment using his key.

“Hey Spence. How was work? You didn’t over extend that shoulder today right?” you looked over from your spot on the couch. He’d done that once early on and could have potentially messed his recovery up. 

“It was fine and no I didn’t overdo it. Emily was right, you're not letting that go anytime soon are you?” he chuckled. 

“Damn right I’m not. You got hurt, you need to heal and rest, not be off messing your shoulder up more.”

“Hey!” he plopped down next to you on the couch. 

“Genius can’t rebuttal because I’m right.” you teased. 

“Um..” he started.

“Yes?” you waited patiently for him to form his thoughts.

“Do you maybe… want to go out… with me?” he asked nervously. 

You smiled, “Yes Spencer, I would love to go out with you.”

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Hi hi i hope im not lateee. Since you know chainsaw man and you're caught up in the manga, may i request makima with an F!reader? Im thinking of a scenario like makima controls everything except her s/o idk idk smth to do with that. Thankyouu and have a nice day!

Out of Her Control

Makima x She/Her Reader

A/N: I wasn’t sure where I should have gone with this one so it’s mostly snippets of before they got together and then ending with them as a couple. It’s mostly me trying to figure out how Makima would act if she had feelings for someone. I’m pretty sure everyone should know that something is off about Makima by now, but if you haven’t read the manga yet, probably skip for now just to be safe. Thanks for the request, hope you like it! Word Count: 3,564

Humans were just too easy to manipulate, to bend this way and that. More often than not, Makima could get what she wanted without using the full extent of her power, sometimes she didn’t even have to use it at all. And as much as she loved humans and their amusing little moral nuances and loyalties, it could be rather dull leading them on a leash, there was no challenge.

When Makima was informed of a few prospective team members applying to join her division of the Public Safety Commission, she scanned over their files and résumés as if paging through summaries of animals looking for their forever homes. She let out a disappointed hum, unsure if any of them were worth taking under her wing.

She would give them all a job, of course she would. Devil Hunters came and went as surely as the tides changed each day. They needed all the bodies they could get, but Makima definitely played favorites when it suited her.

Perhaps she’d get a clearer idea once they began their new profession, but she wasn’t holding her breath.

And for the most part, the new recruits were exactly as she imagined them to be, people pleasers, Makima pleasers, to be specific. Always doing as she asked without another thought in their heads. Reasonable people would say it was because of her senior standing among most Devil Hunters, but Makima knew better. If any other senior Devil Hunter sent one of their juniors off on a thinly veiled death march, they would not be half as successful in getting what they asked for.

“And that is how we will take down the devil in position of this sizable piece of the Gun Devil. Any questions? Concerns?” Makima asked with a overtly saccharine smile. She expected no resistance, but she always asked anyway, an illusion of choice. She inhaled to speak again, to dismiss the small group to what would likely be their last job, but an important one nonetheless.

But then a little ways across the table, a woman loosely raised her hand from where it had sat over crossed arms, without waiting to be acknowledged, she spoke,

“Miss Makima, I do have concerns. This plan will undoubtedly lead us all to an early grave.”

The rest of the table cast the woman dirty looks and grumbled under their shared breaths, judging the woman for not only questioning Makima’s plan, but even going as far to say that it would fail them so spectacularly. Makima subtly grinned.

“Ah, Miss…” Makima trailed off, she hadn’t bothered memorizing any of their names in the three weeks since they had arrived. If she had been anyone else, she might have been embarrassed by that now.

“(Y/n).” The woman supplied, her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows angled ever so slightly downward, conveying a mild annoyance that made Makima’s own eyes light up in response. No one ever looked at her with even the smallest hint of disapproval, wariness, sure, but never disapproval. Unless you maybe counted Kishibe, but he had been in the business forever so it was to be expected from him.

“(Y/n),” Makima tested the name on her tongue, “please do share what you mean.”

The other juniors in the room jumped in before (Y/n) could say a word, assuring Makima that her plan was perfectly acceptable and that they could handle everything just fine.

Makima raised her hand, motioning the group to quiet, which they did almost immediately. No different from her dogs at home, really.

“There is no need to become so defensive on my behalf, we are all working towards the same goal and have humanity’s best interests at heart. I would be remiss if I didn’t take the thoughts of others into account before possibly making a grave miscalculation. So that being said,” Makima’s eyes found (Y/n)’s again, “the floor is yours, (Y/n).”

“Thanks, anyway,” (Y/n) pushed her office chair away from the conference table and strode over to the city map projected on the wall near where Makima stood.

Her peers shot her questioning and displeased looks as she went. Makima stepped back to give her room, hands clasped behind her back, waiting, intrigued.

“This route makes no tactical sense,” (Y/n) pointed out, “It would bring too much attention to us if we were all grouped up like this. The devil would see us coming and with its Gun Devil enhanced power, it would wipe us out in a single attack. I strongly suggest…”

(Y/n) went on to mark three separate routes on the map and even went on to share the strengths of each individual in the room and who should be paired off and take which route.

“…Finally, if all goes smoothly, we should all converge near this point, and take care of the devil then,” (Y/n) looked over to Makima who’s face still wore a ghostly smile, “Of course I’m open to more discussion, but if you insist on your initial plan Miss Makima, then you can count me out.”

A few strangled sounds of disbelief littered the room, but Makima simply tilted her head to the side, eyes boring into (Y/n)‘s.

“You would quit?”

“Perhaps. Private Sector makes more money anyway. And despite my clear lack of popularity with my coworkers’ at present, I would rather them not die if it can be helped. What do you say?”

Makima chuckled at that, leaning into (Y/n)’s personal space. (Y/n) didn’t fluster nor back away, but she did raise an expectant eyebrow, a curious expression visible as she waited for Makima’s denial or approval of her idea.

She had Makima’s approval alright, in more ways than one.

“Very well,” Makima nodded, unblinking, “let’s give it a try.”

***

(Y/n) stared down bitterly at the graves long after the service had concluded. Then she heard a rumble roll across the sky accompanied by the rustling of grass and approaching footsteps. The dark shadow of an umbrella fell over her head and a long, black coat came into her periphery as the first drops of rain began to fall around them.

“Would it really have killed them to listen to me?” (Y/n) murmured without thinking.

“It certainly killed them not to listen.” Makima provided, tone neither one of mirth nor despair, simply apathetic. “For what it’s worth, I thought your plan was better. At least their sacrifices hadn’t been for nothing.”

“I suppose.” (Y/n) sighed wearily.

When the day of the mission had arrived, (Y/n)‘s stubborn peers acted on the original plan detailed by Makima. (Y/n) had linked up with some of the senior hunters from another unit and together they killed the devil and retrieved the fragment of the Gun Devil that it had coveted, but not before a good chunk of the city block had been destroyed. Several civilians as well as her peers littered the street crushed and mangled.

“The rain is getting stronger,” Makima noted, twisting the umbrella that hung over their heads, “I’d like to invite you to my home. I’ll make you something warm to eat and we can drink our sorrows away.” Allow me learn what makes you tick.

(Y/n) surprisingly shook her head, “I appreciate the offer Miss Makima, but I need time to reflect on my own I think.”

Makima’s lips parted, a honeyed insistence already on her tongue, but then she stopped herself, a small smile painting her lips instead.

“I understand. Perhaps another time then.”

“Sure. Well,” (Y/n) paused awkwardly, then flicked up the hood of her coat, “see you Monday.”

“Monday,” Makima confirmed.

She made a move to press her umbrella into (Y/n)’s hands, but she was waved off as soon as their hands touched, (Y/n) thanked her anyway but she had still denied the silent offer, order? Makima watched on as (Y/n) walked briskly out of the cemetery, a taxi already waiting for her to climb into it.

Makima watched the car roll off before starting to walk to her own. She could have easily persuaded (Y/n) to join her, but she found it much more compelling to let the chips fall where they may, for now at least. It was rather exciting.

***

Makima never used her power on (Y/n). A self-imposed rule. That didn’t mean she didn’t have little eyes and ears on her almost constantly. She enjoyed checking in on the unsuspecting Devil Hunter, watching what she did when she wasn’t working. It seemed silly, but Makima felt like she might have been falling for the young woman.

Perhaps it was an unhealthy amount of self-confidence provided by her constant stream of admirers, but she couldn’t have been more surprised when (Y/n) politely declined her proposition. It wasn’t obvious, the biggest hint of her bafflement being two blinks in rapid succession.

“I’m sorry Miss Makima, I just don’t think it would be appropriate for the workplace. Not to mention how dangerous this job is. It’s not a good idea to get too attached to anyone here. I learned that pretty quickly…”

Makima squeezed her hands behind her back, reminding herself that (Y/n)’s will, free from her own, was what drew her to her in the first place. Besides, who really knew what the future would hold for them.

“No need to apologize, I understand your concerns. However, if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here.”

(Y/n) shook her head, a sympathetic smile on her face, “Don’t wait for me, Miss Makima, you do deserve to be happy with someone, but it probably isn’t going to be me.” Then she left Makima’s office, closing the door quietly behind her.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Makima leaned back in her chair, smiling to herself.

She was still committed to not using her influence, and she was confident that she wouldn’t need it. She’s seen many questionable human couples, if they could stumble into a courtship, she certainly could. She would just need to be patient and drop subtle reminders of her availability.

One might argue how Makima studied (Y/n) so thoroughly to know exactly what to say and do to get her heart pounding would be just another form of manipulation, but Makima would say that this way took a lot of time and effort and was much more heartfelt. In fact, as the months stretched on and the longer it took to win (Y/n)’s favor, the more Makima felt for her.

It had been a particularly hard day for (Y/n) when she had gone to Makima asking if she wanted to go out for drinks. She had grown out of the rookie position by simply surviving a few months and had been assigned a couple juniors of her own to look after. They had went as quickly as they had came, but it still weighed on her.

Makima made sure not to seem too eager. She would be a shoulder to lean on, but anything (Y/n) wanted, she could have it if she went for it. Truly not knowing where the night would go, excited her.

Makima ushered (Y/n) into her car and took her to a restaurant she had remembered her mentioning in passing as one of her favorites. They got a cozy little booth in the corner. The ordered their meals and drinks and quietly conversed, letting the warmth of the room and the gentle clinks of of cups and chopsticks against ceramic.

It was the most loose Makima had witnessed (Y/n), she had a couple drinks, but she wasn’t drunk by any means. Maybe a little tipsy at most, but her smile looked more genuine than it ever did at work, and she sounded so relaxed, she even laughed! But then she began hiding yawns behind her hand and final calls could be heard from the bar. It was getting late.

Makima hated the thought of having to drive (Y/n) home. She never wanted to let her go for even a moment, but that wasn’t her choice to make. How irksome it was to play by the rules of a game she had created. A game that only she was aware she was playing.

Makima scooped up the check an paid for everything before (Y/n) could even think about reaching into her coat pocket.

“Hey, I’m the one who invited you out. What do I owe you?” (Y/n) asked, cracking open her wallet.

Makima reached over the table and put her hand on (Y/n)’s to stop the motion.

“You owe nothing. It’s been difficult for you these last few weeks.”

Makima noticed a look of gentle longing, but it left as quickly as it came when another yawn passed (Y/n)’s lips.

“Let’s get you home.”

Makima ushered (Y/n) outside and into the passenger seat of her sleek black car before maneuvering around to get in herself. The ride was quiet save for the ac blowing a constant stream of warm air to offset the chill of the night. When Makima parked the car outside of (Y/n)’s apartment complex, she turned to smile at her and waited for her to unbuckle her seatbelt, but instead she just sat there, looking pensive.

“What is on your mind, (Y/n)?” She asked, inching her hand over the center console while she debated if it would be a good idea to touch her or not.

(Y/n) leaded back against the car door, halting the slow journey Makima’s hand had been making. (Y/n) bit her inner cheek and looked out upon the streetlights casting the sidewalk in a yellowish glow.

“I think I’m failing for you.”

Makima’s eyes lit up with an excited gleam, but still she left the decision of what would happen next up to (Y/n).

“What will you do about it?”

(Y/n) leaned over the center console, her hand resting atop Makima’s. She leaned in further still until her lips found Makima’s. It took a lot of control on Makima’s part to not chase her when she pulled away too soon for her liking.

“Was that okay? I’m sorry, I know you said you liked me, but that was awhile ago and I still should have asked first.”

“It was fine,” Makima assured, “No need to apologize.”

“…Just fine?” (Y/n) asked, almost incredulously.

“Could have been longer,” Makima smirked.

“Well, I could rectify that, if it’s okay with you.”

Makima was more than okay with it, she had been waiting for a development like this for what felt like ages. The longer they continued to kiss in her car, the more she began to wonder,

“What made you change your mind about us being together? I recall you not finding workplace relationships favorable.”

“That’s true,” (Y/n) agreed, between trying to catch her breath, “But I decided after attending my third junior’s funeral that I’m done with devil hunting. I’m quitting. I did leave the resignation paperwork on your desk last week, did you not notice it?”

(Y/n), leaving Public Safety? That would make watching her so much more difficult, limit their time together drastically. This both annoyed and exhilarated Makima because she could not have foreseen her making a choice like this. She would not have had her make a decision like this. It was almost enough to make Makima use a bit of persuasion to have (Y/n) sleep on that decision and think it over, but she couldn’t. A (Y/n) under her control was not really her (Y/n) at all, oddly enough.

“I guess I was too busy admiring you, to think about what you were there for.”

“Ever the charmer,” (Y/n) unbuckled her seatbelt, “Well… you have my number, let me know when you get home safe and then maybe we could exchange schedules for next week?”

“You already have a new job?”

“Family Burger,” (Y/n) groaned, “Just until I finish the degree I left hanging. I hope.”

“I guess I know where I will be getting lunch for the foreseeable future then.”

“You cannot eat Family Burger everyday, It’ll kill you!” (Y/n) laughed.

“It would take a lot more than a a little grease to kill me.” Makima grinned, maybe (Y/n) would learn that someday.

“Trust me, it would be more than a little grease. But I wouldn’t be opposed if you came by every once in awhile.”

“It’s a date.”

“No way! I’m gonna take you on a real nice date the next time our schedules sync. Mark my words!” (Y/n) promised. She pressed a quick kiss against Makima’s cheek, then opened the car door to let herself out.

“Good night, Makima.”

“Good night.”

Makima watched (Y/n) wave to her from the door and when she walked inside and shut the door behind her, Makima drove home. She was sure to text (Y/n) of her safe arrival as soon as the dogs stopped jumping all over her.

They texted back and forth for a bit, sharing possible times to meet up, and then Makima decided to take a shower before getting into bed. She stared up at the dark ceiling, going over the night’s events in her mind.

It all felt so very peculiar. Makima wasn’t quite sure she had ever felt so many emotions in such a short time. (Y/n) appeared to return her affections, she kissed her. Multiple times. She only wished (Y/n) would stay with Public Safety. It was something that she could easily remedy, but she had restrained herself yet again. Though Makima wondered if she would be able to continue that trend if she had reason to believe that (Y/n) could be in danger. It was easier to look out for her when they worked together. She may have the birds and rats to keep an eye on her, but the proximity was stretched much too thin for her liking.

Hopefully the next steps in their relationship would follow quickly now that the ball was finally rolling. She wanted to come home to see (Y/n) curled up with her dogs in the worst way.

“Soon,” she promised herself, “soon.”

***

The day did come when (Y/n) suggested moving in somewhere together. It took longer than Makima would have liked to get to that point, but at least it was finally happening. She would have liked to have a talk with whomever gave her the impression that it was customary that women moved in together on the second date. It would have humiliated even Makima if (Y/n) had known she came to pick her up with her trunk full of collapsed boxes to help her move, only to learn they were going to the aquarium.

“Awww, this is the sea lion plush I got you when we went to the aquarium, isn’t it? We should go again sometime soon.” (Y/n) smiled, placing the stuffed animal back on the bed.

Makima nodded in agreement. Despite her initial disappointment, she did have a good time and she did like the sea lion (Y/n) had gifted her. They’re like the dogs of the ocean. Makima never really understood the novelty of such toys, but she had to admit there was something desirable about this one at the very least.

After hanging the rest of (Y/n)’s clothes in the closet, they heard a few whines and a pawing at the door. The dogs had been shut out to keep them out of the way as they unpacked (Y/n)’s belongings.

“The sweet babies,” (Y/n) chuckled, “so lonely.”

“They are simply excited about your indefinite stay, as am I.”

(Y/n) walked around the bed to hug Makima, melting when the embrace was returned.

“Me too. Should we let them in now?”

“Only if you are ready to be buried in seven heavy, wiggly, fluffy dogs.”

“Oh, I think all the other times I came over to visit prepared me for this moment.”

“Fair enough.” Makima smirked at (Y/n) over her shoulder before releasing the dogs upon her.

“Nooo!” (Y/n) laughed.

She was immediately overwhelmed and shoved to the ground. Wagging tails and slobbery tongues hitting her from all sides.

“Makima,” she wheezed, “Help!”

“I thought you said you were prepared?”

“I was wrong!”

“Sit.” Makima ordered. Her voice was soft, but the dogs listened without delay, each looking up at her expectantly. Makima made a quick motion with her hand and the dogs stampeded out of the bedroom.

“Thank you, my hero.” (Y/n) reached her hand up towards Makima, while still laying flat on the floor.

“You’re very welcome,” Makima reached further than (Y/n)’s hand, instead grasping her above her elbow to pull her up so they stood chest to chest. “Is this better?”

“Much.” (Y/n) clung to Makima again, smiling contently.

“So affectionate today,” Makima teased, though she was being just as touchy.

“I would argue I’m always affectionate with you, but I am especially happy right now,” she nuzzled Makima’s jaw, planting a quick kiss against her skin, “I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time (Y/n) had told her so, but the effect was always the same. A warm feeling in Makima’s chest like a warm summer afternoon always bubbled up. It felt so strange, but she enjoyed it.

“And I you.” Makima cupped (Y/n)’s face in her hands. Her stare was as intense as it was tender. She wasn’t sure she had ever been quite as close to happiness as she was right in that moment.

That something out of her control could love her, would choose to love her, it was euphoric.

[abnormallynice]

TWEWY Joshneku City of Angels AU lets gooooooooo when you just gotta admit "who am I kidding Im never coming back to this even though I reaaally want to asdfgh I'll just post what I have"

[Wall of text of lore below~]

TW// Suicidal ideation Angels wander the city of Shibiya to lead spirits to the afterlife. They cannot be seen, unless they want to be and have no personal want of emotions or free will. They cannot feel the way humans do. Physically or emotionally.

Angel Joshua arrives to lead away suicidal teen, Neku. But he wavers and Neku decides against his decision. Joshua becomes intrigued by Neku when the teenager goes out of their way to save the life of another, when Neku was so ready to give up on their own. It's a spark of fascination for Joshua that quickly fades, as time goes on and the depressed-teen-turned-hero-friend fades to memory.

Years later and Joshua is doing the rounds in a local hospital when he spies a familiar face. Neku, now in scrubs, doing his medical residency. During a young patient's last moments, Neku refuses to let the child die and his eyes meet with Joshua's. Neku doesn't see the angel of course, but a familiar spark lights up in Josh. He begins to follow Neku's daily comings and goings in the hospital, then outside of the hospital. Despite careful (but entertained) warning from his angelic colleges, Joshua makes himself known to Neku, and only Neku.

Apprehensive and disbelieving at first, Neku eventually begins to believe this angel and they become closer (or as close as one can get to a being with little comprehension about Emotions). Neku decided on a medical career since the day he helped save a (now) friend's life. He wanted to help people but realized that the job was a lot harder on one's emotional and mental well-being. Unfortunately, you lose as many lives as you save in his profession. In talks with Joshua, Neku remembers another thing he loved to do: sing. He never had time to indulge more in this hobby, thanks to his studies but after Joshua mentions how he's got a nice voice, he begins to experiment with the idea of writing music. We also see the two try to make sense of Joshua's sudden interest in human free will, and thanks to a friend(?) of Joshua's, they locate someone interesting: a fallen Angel. He explains that when an Angel falls from Grace and obtain free will, they become human and receive all the pros and cons that come with it. However, it's not an easy thing for an Angel to do; physically and morally. Also fun fact: fallen angels can see other angels, all the time.

Regardless, Neku starts catching feelings for Joshua and the Angel finds himself mentally struggling to make sense of human attraction. It's like an itch he can never reach, much less scratch. Frustrated and unable to get through Joshua's hard shell (or understand his motives), Neku leaves Shibuya without resolution with Josh.

Joshua is an Angel assigned to Shibuya, and thus unable to leave to look for Neku. The time apart does something to him, and he feels what he believes is loneliness. Or heartache? Whatever it is, the thought of never seeing Neku again is horrifying. He does the unthinkable and Falls. When he wakes up, everything hurts. Hurts. He bleeds, his stomach turns from hunger, his eyes ache and tears stream down his face. But he's...happy. He feels exuberant joy. Joshua travels across the boundaries of his world, exits Shibuya and follows Neku's trail.

Neku answers the door to a rain-soaked, ripped clothing, feet bleeding, wide grin now-human, Joshua. He has little time to process the scene before him, before Joshua word vomits all these new sensations he's been having and confesses his feelings for Neku. How else can Neku respond but with a kiss (now that they can physically touch each other) and they spend the night together.

Neku later explains that he needed some alone time to think, so he cashed in a favor. He left to take a break, but then took the opportunity to make lemonade, so to speak. Neku used a friend's recording studio outside the city to write a song and record it. Upon hearing it, Joshua was brought to tears. It was beautifully melancholic, but hopeful. It suited Neku.

A few days on and the couple is relishing this time together... but disaster inevitably arrives. Neku leaves on a bike to retrieve some groceries, leaving Joshua behind with a "Be right back." Only minutes later does Joshua feel anxiety grip him and he knows something bad has happened. He runs the road that Neku took, finding the young man in the street, having been in a traffic accident. Neku mumbles something about a beautiful light, then dies in Joshua's arms.

The days both drag on and fly by as Joshua tries to now live as a human without the person he wanted to be human with. Despite it all, Neku had met good people and they help Joshua through his turmoil. Eventually, Joshua decides to release Neku's song to the world and it grips anyone who hears it. His life is lost, but his voice will live on and fill his (and others) world with music.

Congrats on making it this far please enjoy this [your favorite donut]

[supercap2319]

Friday Valentine

Umm... Kevin? What is this?" Y/N looks down at the song sheet full of music and lyrics. At the top were the printed words of the song: Friday Valentine. Kevin was making a musical for the school with Archie as the main character in this story. Pretty fitting since the nice guy in school would be the center of attention. Go figure.

Kevin looks at him. "It's my new version of Friday Valentine that I wrote. Originally, it was about four best frenemies fighting over one guy. So, I thought I'd add to it and have a male profess his love for Archie, and why he would choose him over the other girls. Isn't that a gas?"

"Umm... No?! You're making me sound so queer. Do you really expect two boys to get together?"

"You'll never know unless you sing. So, please from the top." Kevin sat at a piano and started to play the melody of the song as Y/N rolled his eyes and began to sing the words on the page.

Hey Veronica, Toni, Cheryl, and Betty too

Listen up, I've got something to tell to you

Y/N was surprised to see that the music room of Riverdale melted away as he was in Pop's diner when Toni, Cheryl, Betty, and Veronica swiveled around on their stools and looked at him.

Archie Andrews, he's a good guy, no doubt

But when it comes to love, I'm the one that stands out

They all roll their eyes in annoyance at his statement as they 'shu bop, shu bop.' Y/N thinks this is crazy at what's happening, but he starts to get into the music as he stands on top of the table as the girls sit on both sides of the booth. He points to all of them.

He'd choose me over you, that's a fact

I've got the charm to keep his heart intact

At the Friday Valentine's Day dance, you'll see

Archie's eyes will be locked on me

He takes a nearby milkshake from the table and puts it to his lips in sip as he looks at the window to see Archie arrive in his Jalopy. Archie looks at him and waves his hand. Y/N licks cream off his lips and gives him a wink before looking back at the girls.

Veronica, you're glamorous and full of grace

But my love for Archie, I'll boldly embrace

Toni, you're cool, but I'm the one he adores

Cheryl, your fire's strong, but my love soars

Pop's melts away into a stage at the gymnasium as Y/N is dressed in a red tuxedo surrounded by Archie, Veronica, Betty, Cheryl, and Toni as they all put on a musical concert for all the female students in school. This is getting weird. Y/N thought to himself.

The boy's mine, next Friday Valentine's dance

My chance of ending the chase

Can't hardly wait to be the one, hot fun

Next Friday, Valentine

Archie's mine

Y/N stopped singing and the illusion or whatever in God's name that was, melted away back into the music room with Kevin and Clay looking at him with bright smiles. "Yowza, so fun right? What a bop."

"A bop on the head maybe. Kevin what was that?" Y/N asked.

"That was the magic of music, Y/N. And I'm definitely keeping that part in. You did so great."

"Gee thanks." Y/N rolled his eyes.

[sebastianswallows]

The English Client — Six

— PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: The year is 1952. Tom is working for Borgin and Burkes. He is sent to Rome to acquire three ancient books of magic by any means necessary. One in particular proves challenging to reach, and the only path forward is through a pretty, young bookseller. A foreigner like him, she lives alone, obsessed with her work... until Tom comes into her life.

— WARNINGS: none, it's just cute

— WORDCOUNT: 3.2k

I

One enchanting benefit of Tom entering her life, even if it was to be temporary, was to remind her that somewhere out there, outside the walls of her profession, the world went on. She was jealous for a moment that others got to travel, away from their boss and family. Just be a new person in new places, a stranger in the crowd. But it also filled her with some optimism to know that there were other people of her age invested in rare books, not just venerable aristocrats or obsessives like dear Fred.

And it, most shamefully of all, made her look up with a smile whenever the bell to her shop chimed. It wasn’t always Tom — but today, it was.

It was the third time he had come, the second since they put Torchia’s infamous work on display, and last time he hadn’t even mentioned it. She was so relieved… But that wasn’t the only reason she was smiling.

“Welcome back,” she grinned, getting up smoothly to greet him. “Happy with The Lost Word?”

“My employer is happy. Which means, I am happy,” said Tom with a rigid curling of his lips.

“Oh. Is he searching for the Philosopher’s stone?” she teased.

“Certainly hope not. Merlin forbid that he should live forever...”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his silly wording. Tom had a way of being funny that made it look like he wasn’t even trying…

He strolled through the shop as surely as if he owned the place, but his eyes now scarcely strayed to any of the books. They were mostly fixed on her.

“So, how can I help you today?”

“Oh, in many ways,” he purred, coming close enough to lay on her desk a sheet of paper, right beside her hip.

His closeness made her tremble, left her breathless, chilled her hands and warmed her face quite shamefully. She picked the paper up and her easy smile tensed. It was a list.

“These are quite the names,” she said.

“Do you have them?” asked Tom silkily.

“We do. Wait here.”

“No. I’ll come and help you.”

The stack piled high on her desk. They were as heavy as they were expensive. She looked at Tom from the corner of her eye as he checked his list against what she had brought with him, his gaze impassive and cool.

“Are you sure you can afford these, Mr. Riddle?”

“Please, call me Tom,” he smiled.

She smiled back but waited for him to answer. Her pleasure at seeing him had given way to business.

“How much?” he asked.

“For all of them? I’d estimate seven million lire.”

“So around ten thousand pounds…”

“At least.”

“I could send a telegram to my employer, but I doubt he would be willing to part with such a sum.”

She nodded and without a word began to pick the books up to return them to their shelves.

“Unless,” he quickly added, his susurrous voice lingering around her, “you would be interested in a trade.”

She paused. He looked more seductive than he had any right to be, bartering for books with his eyes so dark and his smile childishly expectant.

“W-what kind of trade?”

“Back at my hotel room, I have a number of manuscripts I acquired in Paris. Beautifully illuminated, tightly bound, and with the most tantalising marginalia. I’m sure at least some of them would catch your eye.”

“Would your employer not mind their absence?”

“Not as much as he would mind these,” he said. “I doubt he’d even notice. We don’t appreciate the French that much in England, you know.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself quietly.

“Would you consider it?” Tom asked.

She did. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she thought about it. This is a bad idea…

“Let me help you,” he offered again, picking up half of the books behind her.

She thought about it as she followed him, her eyes scanning that taut back, those thighs that arched beneath his trousers smoothly with each step. She nearly moaned looking at him. Did he dress so tartly just to tease her?

“Not too much, is it?” he asked, casting an easy smile over his shoulder.

“What?”

“Your books. You’re not carrying too many?”

“Oh, not at all,” she giggled, “I’m used to it.”

She felt a little guilty, undressing him with her eyes like that… But then it was her turn to feel naked as she climbed the ladder once again to put the books back one by one. Tom waited at the bottom, his hands on either side of the ladder and his dark eyes trailing up. She smiled to herself — secretly, and sadly. Nothing could ever come of it.

“I’m afraid I have to refuse you, Mr. Riddle,” she said once she was back down before him.

“It’s Tom,” he frowned. “And why?”

“It would be wise not to trade books in such a place.”

“What sort of place would that be?”

“Private.”

Tom nodded and, to her relief, smiled.

“I see. A clever move.”

She breathed a grateful sigh.

“How about a public place, then?” he asked.

“W-what do you mean?”

“Go out with me.”

Her lips parted but not a sound came through. Tom took advantage of it to continue.

“Would you have dinner with me tonight? I know a very nice restaurant…”

“Oh, well, erm, you can just bring the books here…”

“I could. But what would be the fun in that?” he said with a half-smile.

He looked at her as hopeful and expectant as a little boy, and in turn, brought out the careless little girl in her. It had been so long since she’d gone out with someone on a real date… Longer still since she enjoyed it.

“Alright,” she chuckled. “Alright. I finish at six. Shall we meet in front of the Fontana Trevi?”

“Sounds wonderful,” he said, his head held high in something like victory. “I will be there.” He bent and kissed the soft and dusty back of her hand, gaze meeting hers for one long moment.

What did I just get myself into?

II

Compared to the odium of charming Burke’s rich elderly clients, this was as fresh as a wintery morning and twice as bright. The sight of Rome at night took away whatever other bitterness Tom harboured.

He hadn’t been charmed by the city when he first arrived, but he got fonder of it the longer he stayed. The wide-open piazzas on which intimately narrow streets converged like the threads of a spider’s web, the hard white buildings, the lazy cafés, the ruins… They had the charm of eternity about them that always fascinated Tom.

So he stood before the Trevi fountain with a real smile on his face, a relaxation of the features he didn’t often get to have. In his leather messenger bag were several muggle books, perfectly ordinary, but enchanted to look like ancient tomes he’d seen during his studies. The transfiguration would not wear off for another two months.

He heard the sharp patter of heels he knew so well by now and turned to see her walking straight toward him. Right on time… Tom secured the strap of the bag around his shoulder and greeted her with a warm smile.

“Hello.”

“Hello again,” she murmured shyly, stopping before him.

“Did you change clothes? You look so different outside of that place…” he asked, allowing his gaze to trail transparently down her figure.

“Oh no,” she chuckled, “it’s much too far.”

Tom smirked. He knew that too.

“Well, you look lovely. Shall we go? The restaurant is this way.”

It was recommended by a concierge at the Gallienus as a ‘solid’ place to eat. It was quite central with a view over the Tiber and was frothing full of young and noisy people when they arrived. Tom felt relieved he had a reservation, but when he turned to her, his heart fell. He’d seen that look before on Abraxas or Rosier whenever they saw him do something decidedly middle-class and muggle.

“You don’t approve.”

“It’s not that! It’s… a nice place,” she said timidly.

“But?”

“It’s a bit of a cellar, you know?”

“I… don’t, actually.”

“It’s where men go to meet… women,” she whispered.

Tom slowly understood. He’d have to choke the life out of that concierge and find somewhere to hide the body…

“I’m… sorry. We can just call this off. I —”

“No,” she said quickly, her hand closing on his elbow in a small and warm embrace. “No, no, really, we can still go somewhere… I know a good place. A really good place. You want me to take you?”

“Please do.”

They took a tram to Via del Corso, and passed through a long and narrow street filled with little places — record stores, wineries, antique shops — until they reached the end of it. There, on the corner, was Othelo’s. He wondered if it was the same place Clement had talked about…

They took a table outside, beneath wide umbrellas, far from the entrance. Nobody would hear them, nobody would look at them.

“You’ll love it here,” she grinned as she settled down and took the menu. “Their seafood is the best in town.”

“Is that what you’ll have?”

“I think so,” she hummed happily. “Maybe some spaghetti with frutti di mare.”

“I’m more drawn to this, I think. Nero di seppia…”

“I’d recommend against it,” she chuckled.

“Why? Is it not good?”

“Oh no, it’s very tasty…”

“Then I’ll have it.”

She grinned in a deliciously impish way.

Although her gaze slid to his bag where the square shape of hefty volumes bulged, she made no mention of them. He found himself nervous for the first time, and burdened with the instinct to impress — a natural and manly sentiment, but no less bothersome.

She took the liberty of ordering a bottle of wine to go with their meal.

“A whole bottle?”

“It’s alright. What we don’t drink, we can take home,” she said, without specifying whose home that would be.

They drank it, and after a few glasses, Tom found himself confessing things that would have made him cast Oscausi on his own mouth.

“And I loathe that… putrid bundle of bile, bald-headed bastard, with his greasy eyebrows and wart-crusted mouth.”

“Oh, Tom,” she sighed sympathetically.

“I swear on my grandfather’s ring,” he hissed, caressing the Horcrux with his thumb, “one day I’m going to gouge out his eyeballs, and piss in his skull.”

“I know, I know…”

“Everyone thought I was mad to go to work for him — and that syphilitic stoat, Borgin. I could’ve had a top position at the Ministry, I could have —”

“So why work there?” she asked, lips stained red around the edges from the Arrabiata sauce. Her elbows were braced upon the table, her body drawn toward him.

“Because of what it allows me to find,” said Tom. “The oldest, most rare and forgotten relics most people couldn’t dream of seeing, let alone touch.”

“I understand…”

“Do you?” Tom smiled, reaching forward with a napkin to wipe the corners of her mouth.

She blushed and mumbled a thank you before leaning back into her seat.

“Do you feel the same?” Tom asked.

“W-what?”

“About your employer.”

“Oh! Well, I…”

Tom smiled and listened, feeling genuinely curious.

“The Baron is a different sort of person from your Mr. Burke. In fact, I don’t think he’s like anyone you’ve ever met. He isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met either. But…”

“Yes?”

“I suppose I don’t know how I feel,” she laughed skittishly, her arms coming up to wrap around her. “I respect him, but I fear him too.”

“Why is that?” asked Tom, leaning back and sipping his wine. “Has he threatened you?”

“No,” she said quickly, “he’s quite harmless, in a way…”

Tom cocked a brow. It was certainly the oddest way he’d heard anyone be described.

“But it’s just that…”

“Yes?”

“You’ll think me insane,” she laughed.

“Never.”

She leaned forward, her eyes darting around as if the very shadows could have ears, and then she fixed her gaze on him with utter seriousness.

“I think he might be a wizard,” she whispered.

Tom tried hard not to laugh. “No…”

“He’s obsessed with magic and weird rituals and such…”

It wasn’t that Tom didn’t believe her, but, well, he didn’t believe her. It would’ve been a convenient explanation for why the shop was charmed, but no real wizard would operate that openly in muggle society, even in Italy. Besides, if this Baron were a wizard, Burke would certainly have known — wouldn’t he?

“Really, Tom. He’s involved in all sorts of weirdness. Him and all of his crusty old friends…”

Tom nodded as he listened. “So you’re afraid he’ll turn you into a toad if you resign, is that it?”

“Not funny! And… maybe?”

He laughed, and leaned forward in an utterly uncharacteristic show of consolation to place his hand upon her own.

“He won’t curse you,” he promised her. “He’s just a weird old man with more money than sense. Just like the rest of them.”

She smiled back weakly at first, but her smile grew as his hand chilled and calmed her own.

“Why don’t we look at your books, Tom? I’ve been yearning to all evening.”

“Have you?” he winked. “Alright, as soon as they take the plates away.”

And once their table was cleared, he presented them to her with all the reverence befitting the venerable tomes they were masquerading as. To his relief, she did not leaf too much through them or read long lines of text. She was satisfied by checking the binding and the sound of the pages between her fingers.

“Tom… These must fetch quite a price.”

He smirked.

“But…”

His smile died. “But what?”

“I don’t think I can authorise their sale. You should probably speak to the Baron before we can accept them, and then discuss the trade for the other books you wanted.”

Tom leaned back in a contemplative manner, but inside his blood was singing. He brushed a black lock away from his forehead, fingers threading through his hair, and watched as her eyes followed the movement. I have you now, he thought, you and your obstinate Baron.

“Are you quite certain? After all, your expertise is —”

“I’m certain.”

“Alright, alright. Well,” he sighed, “I suppose if I have to…”

III

They packed up the books rather quickly after she finished reviewing them, just in case they spilt wine on them, and soon they were safely back in Tom’s messenger bag.

As they walked back together to the main street, he offered to walk her home.

“Oh, no,” she laughed, “I know the way, really.”

“Come on, it’s —” he checked his watch, “half past ten. What sort of gentleman would I be to let you walk the streets alone at night?”

He only had to flash a smile at her in that practised way for her to yield.

The ride on the tram was pleasantly cool, the evening breeze caressing their cheeks, playing in their hair, rustling the edges of their shirts. It cleared away the wisps of wine still swirling through their heads.

Tom kept a soft and harmless smile throughout the ride, but he let his eyes linger quite openly. He wanted her to feel desired, wanted her to be seen in a way that was more appreciative, more personal, than whatever crass wolf-whistling and leering she was usually subjected to in Rome.

Their hands rested side by side on the worn seats, not touching except when the jostling on the tracks swayed them briefly together. He could see her lips fight back a smile whenever it happened.

The walk to her building was slow, and they barely spoke, except to arrange for his meeting with her employer. Tom made passing note of the information, but his attention was mostly fixed on her. She seemed less happy the closer they got to her street, even though he thought his company might be enough of a tonic. It usually was for women…

He made a point to look around, pretending to see it all for the first time. She only looked ahead, or at the ground.

“I’ll have to call him in advance, of course. He has an unpredictable schedule.”

“Of course,” said Tom.

“I’ll speak with his secretary… She will know when he’s available.”

“Hmm.”

“Will you speak to Mr. Burke in the meanwhile?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t think so. He entrusts me with everything.”

“That must be nice,” she said with a faint smile.

“It’s not because he trusts me,” said Tom. “He’s just not clever enough to make such decisions. Only clever enough to realise it.”

“Even better,” she laughed. “A dumb employer might be a blessing.”

“You would think so,” he scoffed. “But it’s a burden. Any sort of boss is a burden.”

The scenery was no more pleasant than the last time he’d followed her home, but now Tom found his steps easing as he walked, his shoulders falling back, body disarmed. It was… nice to talk to someone so openly. He never would have imagined he needed it.

“Well, this is it,” she said as they stopped in front of her building. She wasn’t looking at him anymore, her girlish joy forgotten. “Not all that glamorous, I know.”

“Compared to my hotel, it’s palatial.”

She chuckled. “So I suppose by now you’ve seen everything Rome has to offer, good and bad.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve seen everything yet,” said Tom with a subtle smirk.

She looked into his eyes and understood enough to blush. He held her gaze, ready for the slightest opening, anything she was willing to give him.

“Erm, do you know your way back?”

His eyes narrowed. She wasn’t going to invite him upstairs? But he’d been so good to her… And he was certain she was attracted to him. The whole reason why he’d asked her on a date and walked her to her squalid home was to seduce her. And she wasn’t even interested?!

“Yes, I… think I’ll be alright.”

“Good, well… Good. So, erm, good night,” she smiled. “Thank you for walking me home. And for dinner.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” said Tom, taking her hand and bending for a kiss.

“Y-yes. Good night,” she said, again. “We’ll speak again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” he nodded.

She cast him a parting glance before entering her building, the door closing with a wicked scratch of rust behind her. Tom waited until she was out of sight to sigh. So, no seducing her to make the whole process easier, no getting her on his side… He hadn’t dealt with bookish girls since Hogwarts, and he’d forgotten what a handful they were. She really was going to do everything by the rules.

IV

When he finally arrived back at his hotel and started to get ready for bed, he realised why she’d laughed at his choice of dinner. He parted his lips in a grimace and stared at himself in the mirror, an angry frown and shameful blush crawling on his face. He looked halfway between horrid and hilarious. His teeth were stained black as if he’d just crawled out of a swamp. The nero di seppia. The squid ink from his spaghetti had made his teeth black.