#I don’t know how to break up with my job

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Wibta if I told my mom she loves a cat more than her own children.

I do feel like an asshole for this. I’m 17f and I have a younger sister 15F. My parents are married and for the most part good. When have a 12 year old cat that my mom just adores.

This part is all speculation, but when I very young like I was 5 or something my mom had an event that changed a lot. She stayed with her parents and would visits us. My grandparents would help out and no one really ever explained what happened to her but she lived there for like a year, she did move back in with us. My dad got her a cat to cope while she was away. The speculation is she had really bad post partum depression and had a break down. The reason I believe this/and this is my own theory, was when I was struggling mentally, my mom encouraged me to go to a therapist and they asked family history and she said she had struggled with depression/episodes and had tried medication but never stayed on. She just said when she was younger she had a hard time regulating emotions, and she wants me to worry about me and my own emotions. The post patrum comes from the fact that I asked my dad why did you two have kids and he admitted he wanted kids and my mom was more on the fence. I also find it weird she gets really nervous around Mother’s Day and will often try to not celebrate. (She always says she could be a better mom)

My mom is a good mom don’t get me wrong. She’s always encouraged my sister and I to try and do our hobbies. She’ll drive us where we gotta go. I know she works overtime when she wants to make sure we can do stuff for the family. It’s just sometimes, she seems more like a distant mom. She’ll listen to us, do anything asked, but idk how to put it into words.

But she really loves this cat. And I do love our cat too, but this cat and my mom are bonded. The second my mom comes home and the cat greets her and my mom picks her up and kisses her. She calls the cat her pretty princess and a hundred other nicknames. She calls me my dad and sister honey, bunny, and sunny. I know the cat actually makes my mom happy. Her eyes light up when she sees the cat. I know she looks forward to coming home to the cat. When we go on vacations she’ll miss the cat, or if she goes on a work trip she’ll always ask for pictures of the cat or ask to see the cat on FaceTime. She throws a small birthday party for the cat every year and makes a cake. For our birthdays she’ll ask what we want and sometimes she resorts to store bought desserts.

So this is where it gets bad. Our cat is now sick and probably has a year left to live. The vet told my mom she’s a good cat owner and has always done right for her, but with her age, treatment isn’t really the route because it’s not gonna prevent death, so just focus on making the cat happy and comfortable (this vet appointment was her 6 month check up.) My mom hasn’t been doing well mentally. She’s always struggled with mental health. She just seems to have a shakey mind at times if that makes sense. She very much before would hide her struggles, but we knew she’d have them. Before she would like stand still just gripping the counter with one hand. Now my mom is definetly depressed. She will come home be greeted by the cat, and go to her room and cry with the cat. She’s been just not happy.

My sister and I kinda decided to see if telling her we got good grades would cheer her up, and she’ll say good job and will sometimes offer to cook something or get something for us, but her eyes are just like very tired. (There is also an app she can use to check out grades but she never once used it and will just take our word face value) We’ve talked to my dad about this and he basically said that our mom has always loved animals (she use to work with her grandpa at a pet store he owned, but apparently her grandpa wasn’t a good person to most people in the family except her, so that was hard on her). I asked my dad what he thinks and says it’s normal for someone to be sad about this and that he’s gonna work hard or make sure we get all our needs handled. Which is nice, but I kinda wish it was my mom. I don’t feel dire need of anything, I’m just annoyed/jealous a cat can destroy my mom mentally.

My mom has gone over load for the cat. She cooks for her, makes her dinner buys the best food and mixes then. She often cries while cooking, and asks the cat if she likes the food.The cat doesn’t even know what’s happening.

I was looking at prom dresses online and asked my mom to look with me and she was just out of it. She would just say she’d like one or she’s not a fan but don’t let that discourage me. She’s just kinda lifeless. I try talking to her about it and she’ll aplogize and says she’ll get better. (It’s been like a week)

It boiled over when my mom’s sisters came over. (She’s the youngest. One sister has kids and one doesn’t) My mom tried to be happy and perky but ended up crying about the cat. Her sisters kinda said that she’s gotta be strong for her family and my mom just cried saying everything’s gonna be so much harder without the cat. I wasn’t in the room, they were in the basement, and there’s a vent where you can hear everything down there. My sister and I do easedrop to see what they say (her sisters are loud but we can never hear what my mom is saying without the vent. Normally we do it because my mom is a more different interesting person and again we don’t know our mom well. Away from us she kinda puts down the facade and actually talks). I was just angry. Her life isn’t hard. We’re middle class, if she wants to go to therepy she can afford it. We all deal with grief and loss. Yes I’m gonna be sad when our cat passes, but she is an older cat. I don’t imagine my life becoming “harder” other than my mom being depressed, but she is an adult who will heal from this.

After her sisters left and she was doing her night routine, I asked her if she loves the cat more than my sister and I. She said that’s not true and if she could do something more for my sister and I please name it. I told her that that’s the problem is that she does stuff for the cat without thinking, but for us it’s all asking us and she’s the adult she should know. She’s said she’s not a mind reader and she’s gonna rely on the information I give her to help me out where she can. I went to my room because ovbiosuly that conversation wasn’t going anywhere. I feel like my mom understands a cat more than her own daughter.

My dad came in a little while after and we talked. He assured me my mom loves me and this cat has been like an emotional support animal through the years. He mentioned my one friend who has an emotional support dog and compared them and told me that the cat has helped my mom emotionally with emotional regulation and just helps her steady herself. I asked if we were enough, or if my mom regrets having a family and she would just be happier if she just left us for the cat and lived by herself. My dad told me she loves all of us, but depression can be hard to navigate. I asked him about how he wanted us more than our mom and he just said that he was more excited, but my mom wouldn’t have had us unless she wanted us (which I don’t think is totally true.)

I went into my parents room and my mom was there with the cat. Again going to the cat for comfort. I told her I was sorry for saying she loved the cat more than us and she apologized for how her treatment towards the cat can seem that way and if I ever need anything please ask. It made me mad because she again is relying on me to know what’s wrong/ or ask, instead of her just idk taking initiative. I didn’t say that.

I get people can be mentally ill, but she’s also my mom. I do feel bad about telling my mom she loves a cat more than me, but I also don’t feel too reassured.

#aita #am i the asshole

[luffington]

young master ♡

➤ summary: You don't worship the ground Doflamingo walks on, and it turns him on a little too much. (18+)

➤ pairing: doflamingo x afab!reader

��� word count: 3.7k

➤ warnings: kinda sub!doflamingo (he’s a horny menace), mild dubcon, possessive doffy, spit kink, oral (f receiving), masturbation (m receiving), degradation, name-calling

➤ notes: this takes place before dressrosa but i’m only halfway done with the arc so sorry for any inaccuracies! i haven't posted my writing online in years so please lmk what you think :3

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Doflamingo was sulking. His signature smile was comically turned upside down and his arms were crossed over his chest. Feet resting on top of his desk as he leaned back in his plush office chair, crumpling the important documents strewn underneath them that he was meant to review and sign. He knew he probably looked like a petulant child, and he felt like one, too. This was all your fucking fault.

Even though you were only in your twenties, you were already a well-known Vice Admiral. Vergo had informed Doflamingo of your impressive Haki abilities months ago, but that wasn’t the only reason he kept a close eye on you. You were sexy as hell, even in a Marines uniform, and he delighted in every brief interaction he had with you at Warlord meetings. When you decided to take some time off, he snatched you up immediately with a tantalizing job offer. After all, working for him was technically still a Government job, and he was helping so many countries in need!

You made it clear from the very beginning that this was a temporary gig and you had no intention of permanently joining the Donquixote Family. You were his business partner, not his subordinate. He never planned on honoring that agreement, of course, but you were making his plans particularly difficult. 

The man had hundreds of thousands – if not millions – of loyal and passive subjects. Obedient workers who never questioned his judgment and praised his iron fist, from the filthy commoners at the bottom to the Elite Officers up top. But not you. 

You had the kind of effortless confidence that got under his skin. You were unbothered and detached from his evil antics, from him. He made his presence known everywhere he went and was always the focus of the room, but it seemed like you paid more attention to the damn servants than him. His threats and intimidation which made thousands tremble in fear hardly made you flinch. When he revealed the secret of Dressrosa’s toys in hopes of getting a reaction from you, you practically yawned. 

You knew who he was. You knew what he was capable of. You didn’t fucking care.

You weren’t afraid of him, and this greatly disturbed him.

A few days ago, you had strolled into his office without even knocking on the door. He furrowed his eyebrows in annoyance, but you barely took notice. You were there to discuss your agreement in order to figure out a time frame of how long he needed you. He threw his head back and laughed loudly as he said, “That’s adorable. You really think you can get away from me, hm?”

Perceptive as always, you noticed the slightest twitch of his middle finger and immediately held an Armament Haki-coated hand in front of your chest, blocking the nearly invisible string flung your way. “Doffy, I’m being serious.”

He frowned and narrowed his eyes. Diamante used that nickname once in front of you and now you wouldn’t call him anything else. You thought it was cute. “Since when can you block my strings?”

“Do you really think I’d be a Vice Admiral if I couldn’t do that? You were so obvious about it, too.” You clicked your tongue, knowing full well that anyone less powerful than you wouldn’t be able to perceive his movement. Prominent veins popped in Doflamingo’s forehead but the blonde man stayed silent. “I think I’ll stay here for a few more months, at least. Maybe longer if I don’t have a terrible time here. Dressrosa is kind of growing on me.” 

“You’re acting like I can’t keep you here by force.” Doflamingo interrupted your train of thought. “I could have Sugar turn you into a cute little doll, and then your Vice Admiral position would disappear. Or Giolla could turn you into a painting to hang on my wall.” He paused as if considering his options, knowing full well what he truly wanted. “Maybe I’ll keep you tied up with strings as my own personal pet.”

Many times he’d pictured you tied to the headboard of his bed, stripped naked and covered in his drying cum as he used you however he wanted. Perhaps then he’d finally ignite a spark of fear in you. 

“If you actually wanted to do that, it would’ve happened already. But you’re the one who hired me, remember?” You acted like you were explaining something obvious to a kid. “If you try anything against me, I can always call up the Navy and tell them what you’re doing to your poor innocent citizens. Maybe even let them know your alias? Begins with a J, right?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He snarled, sitting up in his seat immediately and binding strings around your wrists to keep them pinned above your head. You kept your eyes trained on his, a determined and almost taunting glint in them. 

“I’m not a big fan of blackmail, so I don’t want to do that,” you replied in an even tone. “I’m just saying that I can. Now, are we gonna talk business, or are you gonna play cat’s cradle all day?”

Doflamingo should’ve killed you right then and there. That would’ve put an end to his confusing thoughts about you, but your conversation only made them worse. You were on his mind constantly, to the point where he couldn’t focus on anything else. It was an obsession, an infatuation, one completely unbecoming of a heavenly being like himself. People were meant to grovel at his feet and kiss the very ground he walked on – why the fuck were you not affected?

He finally had enough. He pushed the chair away from his desk and stormed out of his office. Servants hurried away in fear, knowing that his scowl and heavy footsteps meant nothing but trouble. A whirlwind of thoughts swirled around his mind — he wanted to make you scream, to completely immobilize you with his power, to kiss you so hard you saw stars. No, that wasn’t it. 

He wanted you to call him ‘Young Master’. 

Doflamingo threw open the double doors to a secluded drawing room in his typical dramatic flair. You were alone, reclining on a couch and reading a book. Even this pissed him off – you were in a potential viper’s nest, surrounded by powerful people who could turn on you at any point, yet you didn’t feel the need to keep others around you for protection. You turned your head towards the intruder in confusion. His massive body filled the door frame and light from the hallway illuminated him and his feathery coat from behind, making him look like a fallen angel.

“What Devil Fruit did you eat.” It was a statement, not a question. His voice was a dangerously low growl. 

“I already told you, I didn’t eat one.” You said slowly, slightly thrown off by his demeanor but still not afraid. 

“You lying bitch!” He roared, using his strings to slam the doors behind him as he crossed the room towards you in three giant steps. “You must have some kind of mind control ability, or manipulation, or… I don’t fucking know! Tell me what’s happening!” He threw his head in his hands and crouched over, almost as if he was in pain. “Why can’t I stop fucking thinking about you!”

Your mouth opened slightly and you blinked a few times to process the situation, and then it hit you. A sly grin slowly formed on your face as you dog-eared your book and set it down next to you. You knew this man was incapable of love in its purest sense, but maybe… “Doffy, have you never been attracted to someone before?”

His head shot up and he narrowed his eyes at you furiously behind his sunglasses. Of course he’d fucking been attracted to people – he refused to settle for nothing but the best with his lovers. He had fucked enough sexy men and women over the years to form a small army. But none of them were like you. 

They were all cheaply made toys, suitable for one or two uses then tossed in the trash when they broke or when he got bored. He was a greedy and spoiled child who always got what he wanted. But with you… it felt like he was staring through the front window of a shop at a shiny new toy. So close and so enticing but completely out of reach.

“Fuck you! I… I…” You would never know how that sentence was supposed to end, because he sunk to his knees and hung his head in frustrated shame. He slammed his fist against the floor hard enough to rattle the room. “Why won’t you belong to me?!”

The almighty King of Dressrosa, the feared Warlord, the powerful underground broker, was on his knees begging for you. He knew he sounded pathetic. He felt pathetic. But he couldn’t go a moment longer without getting what he wanted, what was rightfully his. 

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You had always stood your ground because you knew your worth, but sometimes you did it to purposely push the blonde man’s buttons since no one else seemed to have the courage to do so. But you were just teasing him – this was not the outcome you had in mind. 

You slowly stood from the couch to move in front of him. Even bent over, the massive man was practically your height, but he had never seemed smaller.

“Doffy,” you began in a quiet voice and reached out to gently touch his feather-clad shoulder, but he slammed the ground again. 

“I don’t need you to patronize me! I need…” he trailed off again and hesitated for a moment before realizing what he needed to do to calm the fire roaring inside him. Fine, he would give you a fucking reason to worship him. He threw himself at your midsection, making you yelp in surprise. He had finally drawn a reaction out of you, and it spurred him on even more. Rough hands yanked your shirt up to your breasts and he hungrily mouthed at the soft skin of your tummy, a frenzied mess of tongue and teeth and soft lips. “I need you. Give yourself to me.” He said breathlessly, punctuating his words with a sharp bite at your hip. 

You were frozen in place but weak in the knees, unable to do anything but accept his bites and bruises. You’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined what his long tongue and nimble fingers felt like on your body, in your body. He nipped at your skin hard enough to bruise then soothed it with his tongue, sending heat straight to your core. 

Doflamingo was in a drugged-like haze, mind clouded with a dizzying mix of lust and hatred and longing. He belatedly noticed that you weren’t resisting him when he popped the button on your jeans. When he looked up, he realized your cheeks were flushed and your gaze was trained on his long fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants. 

He smiled wickedly, feeling a sliver of regained control. “You fucking whore. You want this, don’t you?”

“Doffy, you’re the one literally trying to get in my pants.”

“Shut up.” He snarled, annoyed yet allured by your sweet giggle afterwards. He yanked your jeans down to your ankles to reveal pretty pink lace panties underneath. They practically matched the color of his coat – you had to have worn those just for him. Might as well take them later. 

A needy and unashamed whine tore from his lips when he saw your pussy. Even more perfect than he’d imagined all those times he fucked his fist alone in bed. He told himself this was what was necessary to crush that annoying ego of yours, knowing full well he was nearly shaking with pure carnal desire. He grabbed your hips hard enough to bruise and shoved your thighs apart before diving in. His tongue was ravenous, licking a sloppy stripe from your ass to your clit, mouth closing around the nub and sucking harshly. The sweetest moan he’d ever heard fell from your lips and he echoed it, eager to hear more. 

Fingers tangled in his short blonde hair as you tried to steady yourself. It was too much all at once. You tried to tug him away to tell him to slow down, yet wanted to pull him even closer. Doflamingo flinched at the contact. Part of him wanted to tie your hands behind your back because how dare you touch him without permission. But instead, he groaned at the rough pull on his scalp, which went straight to his hardening cock. His grip on you tightened as he dragged you further onto his face.

His long tongue lapped messily at your folds then slipped into your cunt, shallowly thrusting the wet tip in and out. He laughed in delight at your delicious juices coating his tastebuds and making his head spin.

“You’re so fucking wet.” He panted and rubbed his nose against your clit, making you jump. A sloppy string of his saliva still connected his mouth to your entrance. “I think you like me after all.”

“I’d like anyone who eats me out this good,” you quipped.

“But no one’s as good as me, hm?” To prove his point, he shoved the entirety of his skilled tongue deep inside you. You threw your head back and whined as the wet muscle curled and twisted inside you, hungrily lapping at your sensitive inner walls. “No one will ever be as good as me. Say you’re mine and you can have this every day.”

“F-fuck, Doffy… so, mmh, good…” He ate you out like a man starved, desperately sucking at every part of your pussy he could reach. One hand moved from your hip, leaving dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises behind, and plunged into his own pants. He let out a deep groan at the contact.

“Call me Young Master.” Doflamingo breathed heavily as he pulled his pants down slightly. Your jaw dropped when he revealed his massive and fully erect dick, leaking beads of precum and bobbing against his stomach. You knew he’d be big based on his height, but this was inhuman. The blonde man noticed your hungry gaze and chuckled. “You want me so badly. Stop denying the truth and I’ll give you everything you want. I am a benevolent king, after all.”

You actually laughed at that, and he didn’t even try to be angry – being on full display for you meant he couldn’t hide the way your disobedience made his cock twitch. His other hand slithered between your legs and rubbed at your folds and the smile fell off your face.

You stumbled backwards – there was nothing behind you to lean on and your legs were quickly turning into jelly. “W-wait, Doffy, I can’t, ahh, l-let me sit…”

Two of his fingers moved downwards and bound your feet to the floor with his string. Immobilizing your bottom half like a statue but intentionally leaving your top half free to grab at his hair and body as you pleased. “Your king will grant you permission to move when I want to.” 

“S’okay, I l-like seeing you look up to me for once.” Your witty reply was lost on the blonde, who had spread your folds apart and was hypnotized by your entrance clenching around nothing. You were so fucking tiny compared to him and he ached at the thought of molding your insides to take him and him alone.

Just one thick finger was enough to make you moan and pant, slowly pushing its way inside your cunt. “Shit, you’re so tight.” The soft squelches of your inner walls rang in his ears and pretty pearls of precum leaked from his dick. “Perfect fucking pussy. Give it to me.”

A second digit was soon added, scissoring you apart expertly. Unsurprisingly, the man really knew how to use his fingers. He crooked them and brushed against your most sensitive spot, causing you to cry out and hold onto him even harder. Sharp teeth playfully bit at your inner thigh in response. Doflamingo gathered some of the constant dribble of precum from the tip of his cock to lube his rough palm. He considered making you spit on his hand to ease the glide, but a better idea came to mind.

“Spit in my mouth.” He ordered, tilting his head up and sticking his tongue out. Waiting for you to follow his command like a good toy.

You were taken aback by the sudden request, but you gathered a ball of spit in your mouth like you were told… and it landed directly on the lens of his sunglasses, obscuring the vision of one eye. Doflamingo knew that it wasn’t just badly aimed. This was an act of defiance. You intentionally spit on his defining accessory, his very essence.

“You stupid slut.” The venomous insult came with a maniacally pleased grin. He pushed the stained glasses onto his forehead and you finally saw his eyes for the first time. Gorgeous and bright blue with lust-blown pupils. Looking at his beautifully depraved expression in its entirety, you briefly wondered if he really was an angel. His fingers sped up to a nearly brutal pace and he slipped in a third digit, causing you to choke on your spit. “Love me. Love me.”

A divine being who fell from heaven to beg at your feet. 

“Y-you’re fucking insane,” you panted with a blissful smile, your cunt clenching down deliciously on him. “Make up your, mmh, mind.”

“Adore me.” He responded immediately. “Say you’re mine. Be mine.”

Even though you refused to respond, the blonde was lost in his fantasies yet grounded in the reality of your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure. Mouth hanging open, hands nearly going numb from how hard you held onto him. He needed to see you like this every day – no, every hour. He could keep you under his desk like a pet, ready to suck his dick whenever he allowed you to. Or maybe you’d sit in his lap all day, one of his hands fondling your tits as he attended meetings and forced his subordinates to watch him play with his favorite toy. 

But that was too mundane. He could snatch up anyone in Dressrosa right now and do the same. No, the twisted fantasy that really made his cock ache was already happening. That annoyingly sexy confidence of yours was threatening his godliness. 

Maybe he’d make you step on him next time.

“Call me Young Master,” he begged again, too far gone to realize how ridiculous he sounded. Tongue hanging out like a dog (and panting like one, too), he rutted into his hand even faster. His cock was absolutely throbbing, red and angry and dripping precum. He was in no position to be giving orders. You stifled a giggle with your hand, which quickly turned into a moan as his fingers bumped against your cervix. 

“I already t-told you,” you sucked in a few shaky breaths. He was watching you intently and still smiling, but his fingers never slowed down. “You’re not my –mm– Master, I don’t, ahh, work for you…”

“But why not?” He whined again. “At least call me it when you cum. I’ll fucking kill you if you don’t.” 

You didn’t acknowledge the ridiculously empty threat, instead throwing your head back when his fingers crooked against your most sensitive spot. Slick was dribbling down your legs – Doflamingo licked it off of your thighs before slurping around his digits buried inside you. The blonde echoed your unashamedly loud moans, practically on the edge himself. He only needed one thing to send him into a rapturous white bliss. 

He stared up at you unblinkingly, face frozen in a grin as he took in all the telltale signs of your approaching orgasm. Sweat dribbled down your forehead, eyebrows furrowed together, body tense and breath hot. “I-I’m gonna… gonna…” He crooked his fingers inside you the way he’d done thousands of times to turn people into obedient little puppets.

“Doffy~!” Your face contorted into the most divine expression he’d ever seen, crying out his name like a desperate prayer. 

You ignored his order. You used that stupid fucking nickname. 

He came hard. 

The tight coil that had been building in his groin for days at the mere thought of you finally snapped. An animalistic moan left his lips as thick ropes of cum coated his hand and spilled onto his abdomen. He looked even more blissed out than you, panting hard and shuddering and nearly overstimulating himself with the hand on his cock still slowly moving up and down. 

Doflamingo finally removed his fingers from inside you and loudly sucked them clean of your essence. Still craning his neck upwards so he wouldn’t break eye contact with you. You could lose yourself inside that piercing gaze, so full of obsession and hunger, especially when it was coming from a position of worship rather than condescension. 

Blinking out of your stupor, you realized the blonde’s cum-coated hand was in front of your mouth. If you were anyone else, he would’ve shoved his fingers all the way to your throat and made you choke on it. Instead, he stayed still and kept quiet. This was an offering. 

You grabbed his wrist and kitten-licked his sticky palm twice, humming thoughtfully as if appraising the taste. His grin grew even wider. Then you pulled away and teasingly said, “You take care of the rest of it.”

Doflamingo simply giggled in delight — you’d willingly tasted the essence of a god, one that was soon to be your god, but you were still too stubborn to give in. He didn’t expect you to crumble so easily and he didn’t want you to. He was having way too much fun. The blonde smeared the rest of his cum on the crotch of the pink panties still pooled around your ankles. 

“That’s disgusting.” You huffed in annoyance and rolled your eyes. “What am I supposed to wear out of here?”

The man chuckled lowly and rose to his feet, suddenly towering above you at full height. He wiped the dried spit off of his sunglasses before returning them to their rightful place on the bridge of his nose. 

“Who said anything about leaving?” You paled at the sight of his devilish grin but felt your core clench in need. “You still haven’t called me by my proper title.”

#mine #doflamingo x reader #doflamingo smut #doffy x reader #doflamingo #doffy #one piece x reader #one piece smut

[darkwolf989]

AWWW I just read your Val & Vox with a little girl and its so so cute!! Can I maybe request a one shot of Vox as a girl's dad too? Like his daughter in life getting to hell in her late teens, and now Vox has to deal with the change in taking care of her because he only knew how to take care of her as a child before he died. Thank youu 💖💙

This request. Could have gone in SO MANY FUN WAYS! Let me know your feedback and thoughts! Enjoy- I can do a part two if you like it!!

I downed my tenth cup of coffee and adjusted myself in my chair. My head pounded and I hoped that just a few more drops of the life-giving liquid would keep the exhaustion at bay long enough to get this project done. I hit the call button on the intercom in my office.

“Charles! Another cup!” 

Ten seconds. Enough of a break. I turned my attention back to the document on my computer. 

My assistant brought in another cup right away. “Ms. Reader, don’t you think you’re getting carried away?” 

“I said coffee. Not lip. Order me a raspberry mocha from the shop down the street and have it here in exactly twenty minutes.” I responded as I continued to type. 

He bowed his head. “As you wish. Mr. Vox asked for an update. What should I tell him?”

I paused for a half a moment. “Tell my Dad it will be ready well before the deadline.” 

I looked back down and continued to type. It had been a month since I first found myself in hell. It took my father no time to locate me- though his reaction wasn’t what I expected. 

“Babygirl, you grew up.” He said as I sat across from him in his perfectly manicured office. A pained expression crossed his face. “Tell me, what did you do in your human life to land you in my office? And so young too…how old are you now? Eighteen?”

Sixteen. I thought to myself. An idea began to form. He didn’t remember my age- that could work to my advantage. After all, acting older than I was was a skill I acquired, and I was more than used to my own independence. I crossed my arms. “Eighteen. I’ve been running your company since I was thirteen.” That much, at least, was true. “What do you think got me here? Your business skills weren’t the only thing I inherited.” 

He sighed. “The same thing that brought me here. Fine.” 

He reached out to touch my face and I jerked away. He was a stranger to me, gone from my life when I was six. My mother tried to keep his company on Earth going, but she didn’t have the business skills I did. And when she passed the company fell to my hands with contingencies. Overnight I became the voice- the face of the company, running between me and the board. 

When I passed she was the first person I looked for. Not that I thought I’d find her- and I was right. She went up, and we went down. My dad and his company found me shortly after, and I wasn’t in the slightest surprised to find he was as much of a go getter down here as he was when he was alive, the sole owner of VoxTech. 

But as I sat in his office across from him, memories of him in life blossomed. Soft words. Snuggles. Hugs and kisses. All the comfort that was ripped away the day he left us, left me. 

“You’re going to need a place,” he continued. “A place to stay. A job. I can give you all those things. Keep you safe.”

My other option was the streets of hell. An unappealing choice at best. And so, I accepted the role he offered and the responsibilities that came with it. I was determined to show my father that I was a hardworking girlboss, worthy of his faith in me. 

“And send,” I said aloud as I finished the final drop of my mocha. My head felt fuzzy and my chest definitely buzzed but it was worth it. I opened my inbox. The time on the clock read ten- I had finished with several days to spare. Might as well keep going. 

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing I knew I startled awake to the feeling of a hand on my wrist. 

“Hey, hey baby girl. Take a deep breath, it’s just me.” My dad said. 

I shifted and realized he had covered me with his jacket. I tried to sit up and realized I wasn’t in my office anymore. Instead, I laid on the couch in his.

Fuck. The project. Did I submit it?

“Wh-what time is it? I’m late, I still need…” I sat up.

Vox pushed me back down. “No. You need to lay down. You’re exhausted and your pulse is really high. The doctor is on his way up to look at you. When was the last time you went home to bed?” 

Three days ago. But I didn’t want to tell him that, so instead I remained silent. Vox let out a soft chuckle. 

“You haven’t changed all that much, have you?” He asked as he smoothed back my hair. “You used to do this when you were little too. Play so hard you fell asleep where you were. I used to pick you up and put you to bed, and you were so exhausted you didn’t wake up.”

“Is that how I got here?” I asked.Throbbing pain pulsed through my skull and I closed my eyes as I pressed my head into my hands. “Ugh, my head hurts.” 

“Yeah. Your assistant found you passed out on your desk around midnight. He called me right away.” He wrapped a blood pressure cuff around my arm and hit a button. “When was the last time you drank water? Or ate anything?” Concern oozed from his voice. “I found like twenty empty coffee cups in your office.”

“I had coffee. I’m good. Lived on it back home. Live on it here.” I winced as the cuff grew tighter on my arm. “I’m fine, Dad.” 

“You’re not. And I want numbers while we wait for the doctor to get here. What were you thinking?” He placed the back of his hand on my head. “Com’on you’re smarter than that.” 

I felt my cheeks flush. “I’m not a child, Dad.”

“Maybe not anymore, but you’ll always be my baby,” he replied calmly. “So will you relax and let me be your dad for a moment?” 

I relented and let him fuss until the doctor came in. Vox stood with his arms crossed until I got the all clear. 

“Just cut down on the caffeine, plenary of fluids, and get a few days of rest, and you’ll be fine in no time,” the doctor said finally. He scribbled a few things on his notepad. “Quick question. How old are you, exactly? Because your father says eighteen, but my records show sixteen.” 

I saw Vox turn to look at me, a mix of fury and annoyance on his face. Shit. He grabbed the clipboard from the doctor and scanned the sheet. Realization flooded his face. 

“Rest and fluids, that I can do,” I said loudly as I pulled myself up to standing. “Dad, you don’t mind if I cut out a few minutes early, do you?”

Vox swallowed and looked at me. “You told me you were twenty.”

“Actually, I said eighteen.” I replied, “not that it matters.”

“Oh, it does matter.” He said, his voice laced with anger. “You lied to me.”

I shrugged. “I’ve been on my own running your company for three years. But anyway, I’m going home, Dad. See you tomorrow.” I went to walk out the door and he caught my wrist. 

“Oh fuck no. You think I’m going to let my teenage daughter waltz out of here after all this? No. You’re coming home with me. End of discussion. And consider yourself suspended from work for the time being. 

I felt myself freeze. “You can’t fire me, this is my job!” 

He laughed darkly. “Oh honey! You work for me. Consider it your punishment for lying to your Boss.” He stood up. “Let’s go. You’re not staying in that apartment by yourself. You’re sixteen.” He shook his head. “You’re sixteen.”

“Then where am I staying?” I asked, crossing my arms as unease flooded through me.

“Home. With me. Where you belong.” He said firmly as he pressed his hand to my shoulder. 

I felt myself deflate but again, seeing no other option, I let him guide me to the elevator. Three floors later, the elevator opened and I followed him into a spacious living room.

“I’ll have your things taken from your apartment and moved into the fourth bedroom,” he said as he gave me the tour. 

“I’ve been on my own for a month in hell, and even longer before then,” I protested. “I know how to live by myself.”

He stopped walking and turned his head. “Then I guess it’s about time you learned how to be a teenager then, hm?” 

Anger flooded through me. “That isn’t fair! Dad!”

Vox gave me a grin. “There. That’s a great start! But seriously, you’re grounded.”

“You can’t ground me!”

He practically puffed himself up. “You’re sixteen and I’m your dad. Of course I can. And you are.” He pushed open the door “and this is your room. You can redecorate as you please.”

I stepped inside. “Wait, this is my room?”

Easily twice the size of my little apartment, the bed alone took up the center of the room. It’s current color scheme was neutral, with huge windows overlooking the city. 

“Yeah, like I said, order whatever you want and I’ll have Velvette…”

“Aunt Velvette?!” I asked, excitement washing over me. 

“You remember her?” He asked in a surprised voice. “Do you remember Valentino too?” He leaned against the doorframe and waited for my reaction. 

I turned around. “Uncle Val? The badass mafia mobster that used to come over and toss me in the pool when you guys got tired of doing it?”

“Hey, who told you he was a mobster?” Vox asked as I continued to look around the room.

“Mom.” 

He sighed. “Of course she did. Well, she wasn’t wrong. But yes. One and the same. We met up in hell and we-“

“Continue to rule together as much as you did in life. Got it,” I replied. “Did you not tell them I was here? In the building this whole time?”

Vox shrugged. “I was hoping to get to know you a bit more before I let them know you were here. But I wanted to give you some time to settle in first. After all, I thought you were an adult. Time…time passes differently down here.”

“Reader? Is that really you?” I heard an excited voice yell from the hallway.

My head turned. I knew that voice. Velvette pushed past Vox and she and Valentino practically ran over to me. 

“Aww, my little Princessa! All grown up I see!” My Uncle Val lifted me up and spun me around like I was five. He kissed me on the forehead and set me down. 

Shock flooded through my body as I looked at them both in their demon forms. Seeing my Dad with a TV shaped head was one thing- it made sense with what he did. Aunt Velvette still looked the same but Uncle Val? He looked…scarily different. Purple skin, sharp teeth. The only thing that stayed the same was his signature heart shaped glasses. 

“Valentino, chill. You spooked her.” Velvette scolded. “It’s been what, how many years?”

“Wait- where is Uncle Al?” I asked 

My father glitched. “We don’t talk about him. Not after what he did to me.” 

“What did he do?” I asked in confusion. 

“Ah, no. Princessa. Baby. You’ll get your daddy all worked up. We don’t want or need that,” Valentino scolded.

I crossed my arms and took a defensive stance. “I’m not five. And I’ve been an adult for a long, long time.” 

“Yeah, why don’t you tell us all about that? Over dinner.” Vox said, slinging his arm over my shoulder. “After all, it’s been a long time since we’ve had a family dinner.”

He didn’t know the half of it.

#valentino x reader #the vees #valentino x you #hazbin fluff #hazbin hotel #vox x reader #the vees x reader #valentino hazbin hotel #valentino #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox #voxval #vees #vox the tv demon #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette

[truly-neutral-art]

Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt. 1

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is. 

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow. 

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat. 

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine. 

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes. 

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both. 

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge. 

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell. 

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted. 

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him. 

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other. 

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull. 

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk. 

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs. 

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset. 

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move. 

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked. 

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score. 

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back. 

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close. 

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily. 

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact. 

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair. 

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.” 

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted. 

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck. 

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down. 

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible. 

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet. 

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

#dinluke #star wars #luke skywalker #din djarin #art #dinluke fanart #fanfic #fanfiction #pacific rim au #dinluke au

[dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice]

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 4

ANOTHER CHAPTER IN LESS THAN A WEEK. BRING ON THE GRINDDDDDD. I will warn that my motiviation for each of my fics comes in waves, so you'll probably get chapters in random chunks ngl. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 4590

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 >

PART 1: Chapter 4

Unconditional Violence.

Bambsquabbled (Definition): A 19th Century American slang word essentially meaning stupefied or confounded. (Adjective)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 18th December, 1929.

You had expected the additional Tuesday Mr LeBlanc had given you off to prepare yourself for the radio company to consist of you sleeping in until 11am. But dreams are short lived when you have an aunt who insists the ass-crack of dawn is prime time for everything.

You guessed it was fun to climb onto the roof of your relative’s vast home to collect the crystals you had both put out under the full moon, before the energy given to them was whisked away by the rays of the early golden hour. But when nerves settle in like the green spirals of nausea the night before, sleep takes the hand of another, leaving you to lay there with your over-active mind as it drags you through every possibility and event that could end up with you looking like an idiot in front of your new colleagues, or worse. Can’t think of much worse. But the universe will find a way.

It always does.

When Wednesday finally rolled around, it was barely 6am and you already couldn’t wait for it to be over. Your cousins had found you curled up on the bench swing, having dragged your duvet outside as you balled yourself up like a worm, sipping on the iced tea Agnes had bought you the day before in an attempt to settle your nerves. It did. A little.

And now here you were, the first half of your new workday having gone as smoothly as your awkward self could do.

Ethel, who’s desk was closest to yours, had dubbed you the quiet one after spending an hour running her mouth at you with barely a break for you to chime in. You had also already created quite a commotion on the third floor, a few people intrigued by the new ‘foreigner’. Well – as foreign as you can get when you’re from another English-speaking country, in the biggest cultural melting pot of a city had ever seen in your rural life. But they found you interesting enough.

The oddest thing you had experienced that day, however, was a strange request from your new boss – Mr Durham himself.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pull off a local accent?” he had asked when showing you the phone on your desk.

All you could do was blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

He gestured to the phone. “Since you’re my assistant, you’re gonna be filtering through the calls I get before passing them onto me. Now, there might be an issue if someone calls expecting to hear me, but instead find themselves speaking to a British girl on the other end. Some can be impatient and might end up putting the phone down before you explain.”

Memories of that one very unpleasant phone call flooded your mind. “Even if I answer: ‘Hello W.A.D Radio, this is Mr Durham’s assistant speaking’??” you replied monotonously.

“You’d be surprised.” He sighed. “But do you know how to anyway?”

Frowning, you recalled your time in the cities further in the North. “I guess..? A girl I rented a room from in New York insisted on teaching me for when we went into town, but I struggle to see how it’s important?”

The man put his hands together, pointing them at you in a prayer motion. “Just.. try it out? Talk like your colleagues when you see them, to see if you can get a hang of it – I’m sure they’ll be happy to help. Please?”

You gave him a wavering look, but sighed, finally giving in. “Fine, but they can’t make fun of me.”

He beamed, patting you on the back in satisfaction. “I’m sure they won’t! I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

And with that, you sat in your new chair, trying to pointedly ignore the sign at the other end of the room that pointed you to the fifth floor, and began your attempt to settle in.

--

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 8th January, 1930.

There wasn’t much to celebrate when the new decade rolled around. Gone were the so-called ‘Roaring Twenties’, when you would join your parents at the parties and balls they were invited to – when it was acceptable, of course; those higher up in the class hierarchy still grasped to the dwindling standard that children should be seen, not heard. The year you turned eighteen ended up being quite interesting, when the older women who had turned snooty at the sight of your teenage self wandering around their stately homes, tried to attempt a 180°, as they congratulated you reaching adulthood with strained smiles. But you paid them no mind, too busy staring at the paintings or statues that lined their corridors – a stark contrast to the more barren and plain wallpaper that coated the walls you grew up in.

But now that was far behind you, the English garden parties in the spring and summer that you adored so much were now a mere echo in the distances of your mind. The noises of tiny forks clinking on fine china as the little birds twittered in the trees now replaced by the sputtering and groaning of automobiles as you gripped the pole of the tram, your arms tight against your chest as you tried your best to not let the swaying of the vehicle toss you about into the crowd of packed bodies around you.

Making sure the scarf was tucked safely around your neck, you grasped the small briefcase in your hand – mentally preparing yourself for you first day back at the radio station after the new year. Unfortunately for Mr Durham, a small hurricane had passed over during the holiday, and radio stations across the city were temporarily silenced as their mechanics desperately attempted to repair the damaged towers. And also unfortunately for you, only the hosts were offered a couple days off as things got back up and running, though some still showed to prepare for their shows; you, on the other hand, were still expected to show up like any other day.

So here you were, pushing open the (now familiar) double doors, giving a small wave to the receptionist, who’s name turned out to be Diana, and the woman barely raised her hand in response as she continued to tiredly shift through the concerningly large stack of papers on her desk.

You were just about to climb the wide staircase when you heard her call your name (something you were very surprised she knew, considering her tendency to ‘accidentally’ throw paperwork in the bin on the daily), and your wedge heels clacked against the tile flooring as you stumbled slightly, turning to face her as her nasally voice echoed around the large lobby.

“It’s best you stay in the shadows today.” She warned cryptically. “Trouble’s in, and the mechanic’s not happy about the damages – Durham’s getting the brunt of it, but you’ll end up in the crossfire unless you hide out during breaktimes.”

All you could do for a moment was stand and stare, a million thoughts running through your mind. Mostly about who ‘Trouble’ was, and why Diana thought you couldn’t handle the guy and the other mechanic. You did handle the radio man at the repair shop after all, and speaking of the radio, you were quite proud to say you had finished the it in time for Christmas, and had shipped it off with a very passive-aggressive note that hinted for the man to basically never return. Luckily, Mr Boudreaux hadn’t replied to any of your letters since you had begrudgingly accepted the object, but you had suspected he had called the shop once or twice, and you had left Mr LeBlanc to deal with it, mostly because he was quite terrified you would call another customer every name under the sun the second they tried to give you trouble.

Glancing back and forth between Diana and the stairs, you mumbled a slow “Oookay…” before nodding your head and turning on your heel to hurry up the steps. Reaching the third floor, you didn’t stop in your path as you neared your desk, instead dropping your briefcase onto the wooden surface as you dashed by, striding towards the door that had the golden plaque engraved with ‘Mr B. Durham’ onto it. Grasping the handle, you turned the knob, swinging the door open, only to stop in your tracks as you were met with a very empty office.

You frowned. It must be really bad if your boss was no where to be seen. Whipping around, you scanned the main room for him, but only saw a few of your colleagues, the rest still yet to arrive – you were normally expected to be in early to handle Durham’s work as soon as he began.

Throwing your coat and scarf on your chair, you strode back towards the stairs, readjusting the suspenders of your wide-legged trousers as you practically jogged up the steps, and ended up rolling the sleeves of your loose blouse to your elbows as you tried to catch your breath.

On the fourth floor, you spent a couple minutes checking all of your boss’s usual haunts or hiding places, even going as far as interrogating a couple of the workers there for his whereabouts. It wasn’t until some blonde guy that came wandering down the steps from the fifth floor that you got your answer, the man looking up to take in your slightly dishevelled and feral appearance with wide eyes as he stammered out that he was in one of the radio booths. To his further horror, you patted him on the cheek with a thanks as you rounded him, ready to take another flight of stairs to reach your – apparently – floundering boss.

Ignoring the embarrassed sputtering of the man behind you, you eye the sign nailed to the wall, the painted hand pointing upwards with a very bold ‘FIFTH FLOOR’ next to it.

“Don’t go up there until I say you’re ready, okay?” Mr Durham’s words echoed through your mind.

Buuuuut, he did say he wanted to discuss the stuff you brought in your briefcase ASAP.

Yea that’ll be your excuse. You can deal with his complaining later.

Reaching your heel-clad foot out, you took the first step, almost like you were expecting an axe to come swing down and impale your forehead. But when nothing happened, you shrugged, and simply continued up.

Recalling the path your boss had taken you on during the initial tour, you managed to find the dreaded corridor that supposedly housed your greatest nightmare.

Extroverted people.

Yeesh.

At that thought, you did consider turning around, but your urge to drag your boss’s arse back downstairs drowned that thought out, and you carried on.

Surprisingly, it was quiet, but at the same time not so much when you remembered that most of them were plating their somewhat wealthy behinds on their armchairs at home as the rest tried to fix the issues of the storm.

Reaching one of the lit rooms, you heard raised voices.

“–really expect me to know? –” “– supposed to be on in an hour! How is that –”

Cautiously, you peeked around the corner to try and witness the potential fiasco. And what a fiasco it was.

Wires, cables, and any other random parts that were used for radio technology were strewn across desks, tables and even the floor. Amongst these were two men, and there was only one you recognised.

Just like you had seen him every day for the past month, Mr Durham was stood in his washed-out blue suit and concerningly shiny shoes, and at this point one hand was on his hip, whilst the other rubbed tiredly at his face as whom you assume was the mechanic, was blabbering the poor man’s ear off as he ranted on and on about random parts and problems and he gestured frantically at said random parts and problems. Wait – nevermind, you recognised one and a half.

The man from across the street was here, with his back to you. Again. For fuck’s sake.

This time he was back in the seat you first saw him in, this time with a few strands of dark-brown hair out of place, curling slightly as if to rebel against the intense styling he had put it through. Peeking your head out slightly further, you managed to get a good look at him.

Well for one, he was a triangle. Stupidly broad shoulders that narrowed into a stupidly small waist (triangle), with lanky legs long enough that you could probably chop them off and fashion them into skis. Despite his face not revealed, you could see the semi-light tan on his hands, that were busy turning knobs and dials as he listened in to whatever was coming through the headphones on his head. He was dressed to impress, to say the least, in smart, dark-grey trousers, who’s ironed out edges looked as if they could slice through skin. His high collared cream shirt was tucked away under a relatively tight looking reddish-tan waistcoat, and to top it all off, you could see the back of the black ribbon that was most likely tied in a stupidly even bow.

You didn’t want this guy to sense your staring, so you opted to look back at the other two men who were still chuntering on about god knows what. Stepping into the light that flooded through the glass, you wave slightly to try and get your boss’s attention. A couple seconds passed, and you watched as the mechanic kept glancing at you and Mr Durham, until eventually he nudged the other man on the shoulder, pointing you out.

Turning his head, Mr Durham’s eyes met with yours, and you raised your hand with a questionable thumbs up to see if all was good, only to watch in slight confusion as his eyes widened, and he whipped his head rapidly between you and the faceless man sat at his desk, before marching over to the door and pulling it open a crack, sticking his head out.

“Hey uh,” he half-whispered, surprisingly nervous at your presence. “what’re you doing here?”

You lowered your voice to match his. “You said to come find you as soon as possible this morning, you know, to go over those statistics from that other station?”

Realisation dawned on the man’s face, and he reached up to drag his hand down the side of it. “Shit I forgot,” he cursed, and glanced over his shoulder before facing you again. “I’ll – uh… I’ll be down as soon as I get this sorted. Marty’s givin’ me a run for his money right now and the second Al takes his headphones off I’m gonna feel like I’m entering an early grave.”

Surprised, you eyed the man sat at the desk, who looked far too calm to be threatening anyone right now. “Ok… I guess it can wait. I’ll bring you some coffee up!” you chirped, and Durham went to call out that it wasn’t necessary, but faltered with a frown as he realised you were already halfway down the corridor.

--

Balancing the tray of cups and steaming jug the best you could, you reached the final step, retracing your route to the radio booth that your boss was probably getting murdered in. Walking up, you waited patiently until Mr Durham noticed you, and watched as he reluctantly trudged over to open the door.

Taking your first step in, you were hit with the very potent smell of strong black coffee, as if someone had some brewing every day, and you figured you had made the right call of fetching the same beverage as you placed the tray down on one of the tables.

The mechanic was still going off on one, and you watched out of the corner of your eye as you slowly began pouring the coffee into the cups, listening to the greasy-looking man speak.

“– there’s literally no reason that I can find that’s causing the local outage!” he spouted at your frowning boss. “The boys have already fixed the aerial, and David’s currently on-air and that’s working perfectly fine, so it has to be something in this room!”

During the man’s tirade, you noticed the rustling of papers, and looked over to see the faceless man again, still at his desk, but his hands were fiddling with no purpose, and his head was turned to the left slightly, showing his high cheekbone and the edge of his thin circular glasses.

Looked like someone else was listening in too.

Biting your smile down, you turned back towards the cups in your hand, only to have a glint of light pierce the corner of your eye, and you looked in the opposite direction to a large wooden box, with one of the panels removed, displaying the endless wires and springs that coiled and wound in every direction. But you weren’t looking at that, you were instead looking at the screwdriver that was very prominently glinting in the shine of the ceiling light. This must be the painstakingly obvious problem that the mechanic had painstakingly missed.

Giving a quick glance over at the men, you waited until they faced away, scrapping about the wire pile on the floor, and you reached for the wooden teaspoon on your tray, and inched towards the box. Knowing wood doesn’t normally conduct electricity, you raised your hand, testing it anyway against the hanging wires to see if they were live. Seemingly not, you stuck your hand further in, and began nudging at the tool, slowly loosening the wires around it as you dragged it along the bottom of the box.

When they had deemed your silence as suspicious, the mechanic and Durham turned round, only to see you elbow deep in some very expensive equipment.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” the mechanic cried as he rushed over. “The hell are you doin’??”

Instead of jerking your arm back out and apologising to the man who was slowly turning purple, you gave the screwdriver one last flick, and the three of you watched as it dropped over the edge and fell to the floor with a clatter. Moments of silence passed as you all stared at it, until you decided to explain.

“It was tangled in the wires, which would’ve prevented the electricity flow,” you said plainly. “Plus, if you had tried to power it all up, it could’ve set the place on fire.”

All the mechanic could do was stare down at the tool, but Mr Durham had decided to approach, and bent down to pick up the tool.

“Nice one.” He complimented, turning the object in his hands. Though the warm smile he had put on for you quickly vanished, as his eyes set upon the name engraved on the wooden handle. He pointed at it. “This has your name on it Marty.” He said lowly, his blue eyes turning dark as he regarded the paling man with a look of thunder.

Seeing the outcome, you gestured nervously to the beverages on the table. “Coffee’s there, Mr Durham, I’ll see you downstairs.”

Just as you walked around him, he called your name. “Take ten minutes to yourself and grab some tea, whilst I deal with Marty here.”

Nodding, you curtly took your leave, swinging the door open as you power-walked out, failing to see the sharp pair of eyes following you from where they were sat at the desk.

--

You found the break room housed several curiosities that you were yet to explore in America. Apart from the atrocious fact that the tea station lacked the Yorkshire brand, you found yourself poking at what they called a teabag. Yes, surprise, surprise, the Americans invented something tea related before England or even China did, but you had to admit it was rather useful in helping you not gag at the slimy tea leaves that sat at the bottom of most of your beloved brews.

With the table to your right, you leant your hip against it, your back against the door as you rather noisily mixed the spoon around your large mug, making sure the sugar was dissolved properly before you went to strain the teabag. Lifting it carefully out of the boiling water, you gingerly held your other hand out below it to catch any stray drips from hitting the floor, scanning the room in front of you for a bin that you could chuck it into.

What you foolishly had failed to do however, was hear the footsteps that grew in volume from behind, and you hadn’t realised anything until a very uncomfortable prickle hit the side of your neck, as a very unwanted presence loomed over you. Though, that didn’t last long, as the presence decided to deafen you instead.

“So YOU’RE the new assistant!”

A banshee screech raised from your throat, the teabag flying through the air and onto the floor by your feet as you basically jumped three feet up. Instinctively, however, you didn’t realise what was happening until one elbow flew upwards, slamming into the nose of the man behind you, the other flying round to collide with his ribs. Teaspoon armed in hand, you spun around to face your assailant, only to step on the soggy teabag that was still on the floor, and you cried out again as you slipped and slammed into a very firm chest. Eyes screwed shut, you felt the two of you fall, though quickly broken by the table behind you.

Relieved that you were no longer falling, you swiftly blinked your eyes open, your dark brown ones meeting a pair of equally matching brown. Moments passed as you took in the scene in front of you, and you realised you finally had a face to put to the lanky man from earlier.

Said man was groaning as he rubbed at his nose, his lips twisted into a grimace as he checked for blood. What you noticed however, was the several poignant glances the man took to your right, and you followed, only to see you hand raised, teaspoon in hand, pointing down at him as if you had a machete, ready to stab the lights out of him.

A small gasp left your throat at the realisation, and you quickly pushed yourself off, pointedly ignoring the grunt the man let out as you knocked at his ribs. Taking several steps back, you distanced yourself from him. He had gotten close before, he wasn’t about to do so again.

You watched as he pushed himself up on his elbows, using the table as a support as he stood. To a disturbingly tall height might you add. Looks like you did just reach his nose after all.

“I’m uh,” you started as you eyed him, teaspoon machete still in hand, strangely, you instinctively used the southern accent you learnt – it was the one you used with strangers. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you to sneak up on me like that.” Reaching over, you snatched up a napkin, offering it to him. “Y’haven’t got anything…?”

Dark eyes flitting between you and the outstretched napkin offering, you watched as something seemed to switch in his demeanour, and a natural smile fell across his tan face as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s quite alright.” He assured, and you blinked at his prominent transatlantic accent. “I figured that wasn’t the best way to say hello to a stranger!” he laughed as he smoothed down his crumpled waistcoat. Reaching his lanky arm out whilst tucking the other behind him, he offered his hand out in greeting. “The name’s Alastor, my dear. And who do I have the most entertaining pleasure to be speaking to?”

You stared at his hand, then flicked your eyes up to him, scanning his grinning face with vigour.

Where, oh where, had you heard that voice before?

Your silence seemed to confuse this Alastor guy, however, and his eyes darted around in confusion as you continued to stare. From what you could see, he had come to a very wrong conclusion about your silence, and leaned over at you slightly, bringing his face level with yours.

“Cat got your tongue, my darling?” His growing cheshire grin reminding you of two very similar people. “You clearly must find me that dashing if your this speechless, haha!” he chortled, the condescension rolling off him in waves.

Oh, you knew exactly where this guy was from.

Narrowing your eyes, you scrutinised him as you quietly muttered out a single word.

“Boudreaux.”

Alastor blinked, eyes darting around your face, before raising a hand to cup at his ear. “I hate to say but I didn’t quite catch that!” he exclaimed rather loudly.

You felt your brows begin to furrow, so you raise your voice slightly. “I said, Boudreaux.”

Oh you did it now. Sparkles seemed to glitter behind his chocolate eyes as he perked up with glee, straightening up to his full height. “So you do know me after all! I was starting to think you simply had nothing going on in that head of yours!”  he simpered as he tilted his head to look down at you.

Despite his clear mocking, you remained quiet for a moment longer, until you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“…You work in a radio station.” You stated flatly.

Alastor looked around, acting as if he had just realised as such. “Yes I am quite aware!” he affirmed in an obvious tone. “Did you want an award for that observation?”

You had to refrain from gaping at this man’s audacity. “… Couldn’t you have just fixed it yourself?”

The man blinked at you. “Fixed what now?”

Oh, this was it. Stepping forward, you didn’t stop until you face was a hand-lengths away from his, and you watched with satisfaction as he shifted at your invasion of his space – talk about a hypocrite as someone who clearly loved to invade the space of others. Staring at the man dead in the eye, you fully dropped the southern accent, your Yorkshire one coming back through full force.

“Your mum’s radio.” You stated simply, raising your brows to regard him with a condescending look that matched his.

You had expected him to brush it off, laughing when he realised who you were. What you hadn’t expected for his pupils to blow wide, his eyes darkening as they narrowed, scrutinising your gaze with his own, and you suddenly felt a little uneasy.

“Oh,” he said lowly. “It’s you.”

Keeping your gaze levelled, you gripped the spoon harder in your hands. That is, until your name was called.

The two of you straightened up, you leaning to look around Alastor as he spun on the spot, the both of you facing Mr Durham, who was looking between the two of you rather nervously. He called your name again.

“C’mon.” he said, refusing to take his eyes off Alastor. “Let’s go over those papers you brought.”

Without a second thought, you darted for your mug of tea, grabbing it along with an almost empty bottle of milk to put in it as you strode around Alastor, feeling the hand of your boss as he put his arm around your shoulder as he quickly led you away, and the back of your head prickled, definitely feeling the sharp eyes on your retreating back this time around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ALASTOR'S HERE RAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Watch me disappear from the face of the earth for a week cuz of my executive dysfunction lmao (Blame my adhd not me she's a seperate entity at this point.)

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 5!!

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#are you proud that i'm bringing on the grind for everything except my uni work? #they gave me 5 assignments again :/ #also having a crisis that high school musical is turning 20 in the next two years #making me feel ancient #but not as ancient as lucifer #he's giving prehistoric #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor x you #alastor x oc

[heliza24]

Let’s talk about parallels between Wilhelm and Sara in Season 3 of Young Royals

Because there are so many! This is a continuation of sorts of this meta that I wrote about them being A and B plot protagonists in season 1 and 2. I don’t know that I would describe them exactly that way in season 3, but I do think their plots, character arcs, and themes are meant to mirror each other very closely this season.

One of my favorite things about the parallels between Wilhelm and Sara this season is that comparing them really makes you hold Sara’s friendship with Felice on the same level as Wilhelm’s romantic relationship with Simon (and Sara’s with August) which I think is so important. Both Wilhelm and Sara go through breakups over the course of the season (I think Felice’s reaction especially frames her friendship breakup with Sara similarly to a romantic breakup, which I love). And both of their arcs are about mending those relationships.

Sara and Wilhelm both need to experience the world outside of Hillerska before they can mend those relationships. Sara is able to glimpse some independence, even just through getting her license. The whole world is open to her now, as Felice says in ep 6. I don’t know that she would have been able to make her decision not to go back to August without experiencing that freedom. And Wilhelm also needs to experience the full force of what life in the monarchy would be like before he is able to decide to leave it. Because of this they also act as our window into the two different worlds outside of Hillerska, the palace and Bjarstad. They create the larger context in which we understand Hillerska this season.

I love that both of their journeys of personal growth are symbolized through cars. Wilhelm is always getting trapped with his mom or a member of the court in a fancy car; it’s where almost all of the monarchy’s most onerous instructions on how to live are delivered to him. So it’s huge when he leaves his parents in the chauffeured car at the end of episode 6 and goes to find Simon, Felice and Sara in Sara’s beat up used car. Meanwhile, Sara has traded in horses for the car. This is stated pretty explicitly when her dad asks her if she would like to work with horses and she declines, saying that she has come to realize that horses are simply traded by rich people as status symbols, and her dad suggests she get her drivers license since it will help with any job she wants. In seasons 1 and 2 Rousseau is pretty heavily associated with August, along with the pressures put on August and the other elite kids at Hillerska to conform to expectations (@bluedalahorse has written the Bible on that here), so the fact that Sara swaps out the horse for a car that can take her anywhere feels like a step away from both August and the prescriptive norms of Hillerska.

Sara and Wilhelm both reject what they saw as their destined future. This is obviously really clear for Wilhelm; he assumed he would be prince and then king after Erik died, and his greatest moment of character growth is when he decides he doesn’t have to fulfill that assigned role if it will keep him from being happy and living authentically. I love the scene where Sara talks with her dad about her fears that she will fail in the same ways that he did because she also has autism and adhd. This is a less clear-cut assigned destiny, but that fear of becoming a self fulfilling prophecy is equally overwhelming, especially because Sara has already let down someone she cares about in a way that’s not dissimilar to how her father breaks promises. The fact that she’s able to come to terms with her dad’s influence in her life, but realize she really is in charge of her own future, is really powerful. (I also think it’s such smart writing about the way disability and internalized ableism can really affect your self image).

In order to break free of those predetermined destinies, both Sara and Wilhelm need to see a father/mentor figure as more than black and white. Wilhelm needs to acknowledge that Erik wasn’t perfect, and did help contribute to some of the abusive traditions of Hillerska. Sara needs to recognize that even though her dad isn’t a perfect parent, she still loves him for the care he is able to show to her and wants to have him in her life. I love that both Wilhelm and Sara learn to hold multiple conflicting emotions about their loved ones. They can be disappointed by some of Micke and Erik’s actions, but they can still value their relationships with those family members and recognize them as complex, complete people.

They also both go on a similar journey with how they see August. Wilhelm comes to recognize that August is both a perpetrator and victim of the class system and Hillerska’s systemized abuse. Sara similarly realizes that August is an adult who needs to be responsible for his own emotions. She’s no longer interested in saving him from his complex feelings of guilt, and recognizes his potential to find self healing. Both of those new assessments of August grant him more maturity and complexity than earlier in the show. (They also reflect the way that August grows, in fits and starts, over the course of season 3. If there was a season 4 of the show, I think we would really see August respond to Sara and Wilhelm’s new attitudes towards him in a way that would fuel future character growth).

Viewing Erik, Micke, and August more complexly also allows Sara and Wilhelm to forgive themselves for the ways they are similar to those people. They are able to acknowledge the shame they feel around their actions, but also forgive themselves in the same way that they forgive others.

Both Sara and Wilhelm have specifically let down Simon in pretty big ways (Sara by secretly dating August, Wilhelm by perpetuating the royal family restrictions onto Simon). But they are able to recognize those mistakes and reconcile with Simon.

Wilhelm and Sara both leave the monarchy (Wilhelm literally, Sara by refusing a relationship with August), but they also leave a kind of prescriptive romance behind. Wilhelm says no to having to monitor Simon, to having to roll out his relationship in a certain way to please the court, and to having their future together mapped out and their decision around children made for them. Sara says no to a smaller set of requirements, but the traditional ways that August sees romance are so influenced by the monarchy (which is in turn so influenced patriarchy) that they are similar in some ways. Sara says no to having to do August’s emotional labor, to managing him so that he will fit the image of a good heir. She says no to waiting for him to visit on weekends while he does military service. She says no to this grand plan that he has. (This was @bluedalahorse’s point originally that she shared with me, and honestly I think it's so smart). Wilhelm chooses a romantic relationship that he and Simon are free to create together without rules; Sara chooses a friendship based on honesty and support. Both are valid options that give the characters a sense of peace and freedom. And they would not have been able to make those choices without all of the growth they went through over the course of the season.

I think Sara and Wilhelm's arcs compliment each other so well, and it was one of my favorite things about season 3. I loved watching both of them get to grow so much and end up in such a happy place.

#young royals #my meta #wilhelm young royals #sara eriksson

[here-but-forgotten]

authors note: i don't fucking know man. i listened to "becoming the lastnames" and this happened.

content notes: rudy x reader. young, before he joins the military. talks of marriage. valeria and alejandro mention. mainly fluff. mentions of death.

becoming the lastnames

pre-military! rodolfo parra x reader

“Do you ever think we’ll make it?” He whispers, breaking through the shrouded dark, the cool air seeping through your skin.

“I don’t know,” You whisper.

He shifts beside you, the blanket wrinkling under his shifting weight. The night is cool; the stars are out; the city is far enough away to be forgotten but not to far away to become imaginary.

“Why do you say that?” Rodolfo asks, softly, no bite of argument on the back of his tongue.

“I mean, what if I end up just like my parents?”

“I’ll love you.”

That stupid, sweet, sticky, suffocating warmth seeps into your bones to your ribs, filling your throat with a burn.

“We could try to be like my parents,” he jokes, “we could work until we’re 40 then go insane.”

You laugh, breaking the warmth off your ribs, letting yourself melt into the blanket again. Your fingers tingle, cold.

“But what if you die?”

“Baby,” Rudy murmurs, half a scold and half a pity.

“I’m serious,” You whisper, barely making noise, the heat that chokes you catching cold air in your throat, “what then?”

“Then you can come talk to my headstone, I’ll listen.”

“Rudy.”

He laughs. You sound like his mother. His pinky wraps around yours, pulling your hand closer to him; he is warm.

“I don’t plan on dying.”

“But what if you do?”

“I just won’t.”

You sigh, defeated, that stupid boyish reasoning and manly cool. Infuriating.

“I’ll crawl back to you if anything happens.”

“If you die, I’ll kill Alej to keep you company.”

Macabre. He laughs.

“I’ll have to haunt you if you do that,” He smiles into his sigh, “If I don’t die, we’ll grow old together.”

“I’ll get all wrinkly.”

“Yeah, and so will I.”

“Marriage has always scared me,” You admit, his pinky tightening, keeping you close, “But I want to have a last love.”

“We can be just like my parents, then.”

You tighten your grip on him, his fingering wiggling out just to grab your whole hand, paw covering your hand.

“What about forever?” You ask.

“I don’t know anything about forever, but I know I wouldn’t mind spending it with you.”

“How can you be so confident?”

“I want to push Alejandro off a bridge sometimes, but I know I want to be his best friend till I die,” he starts, his voice soft, “and I feel like that with you.”

“You want to push me off a bridge?”

“I feel like the second part of the sentence.”

“I mean, I get it if you do, I can be annoying—”

“I don’t want to push you off a bridge—”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you did—”

He pushes his hand and yours against your mouth, gently, hushing you.

“I am not going to push you off a bridge.”

“That sounds like a Dateline intro,” You joke.

“I am not going to kill you.”

“Sounds like something a killer would say.”

Rodolfo dramatically sighs, pulling the hands back to him.

“I don’t think we have to wait on becoming insane like my parents, I think we’re already there.”

You chuckle, scooting closer to him, your shoulder touching his.

“Love can last a pretty good long while, you sure you want to give that to me?”

“I already did.”

You hum.

“Love doesn’t go away. It either sticks around or it was never there. It changes shape though, and it’s just about keeping shapes that go together.”

“You sure you want to go get shot, you could be a poet.”

“I don’t want to get shot, it’s just a part of the job description.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be a bit of a masochist.”

He squeezes your hand, a light little non-existent warning.

“Being a poet doesn’t pay too well, I don’t think. Unless we have World War III soon, then I can be sad and traumatized and publish 15 books.”

“If you make it.”

“I will,” Rodolfo lowers his voice, pulling you against him, head resting on his shoulder, “I will make it, and I’ll come home to you, and we can go crazy together until Alejandro tries to get us admitted.”

“If we pull him down with us, he can’t admit us.”

“That’s the plan.”

He rests his nose against the crown of your head, kissing your head softly, his arm around your shoulders warm as his fingers rub your skin, your body melting against his.

“Do you think Valeria and him will make it?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Confident.”

“They are oil and water. The flame is whatever they’re feeling. And it’s just whoever gets to the fire first and does something with it.”

“Are you comparing their relationship to a grease fire?”

“Yes.”

You pause, letting the words hang in the air for a moment.

“Have you been in a room with them for longer than 30 minutes?”

“I mean, yeah.”

His thumb rubs you.

“He just wants what he never got to have. And he doesn’t get that what he wants doesn’t have to be painful.”

“Do you think that’ll kill him?”

“It won’t kill either of them. It’ll just tattoo them.”

“Do you think they’ll kill each other?”

“They might try but that’ll just end in them being bickering skeletons.”

“Are they both that hot headed to where death won’t make them stop?”

“Probably. I don’t want to find out though.”

“I don’t either.”

There’s a bug, or something, making noise. The moon is high. The stars have shifted.

“We’ll be just like my parents, and we’ll grow old together, and when all of that is over, we’ll have forever. Does that sound alright?” Rudy asks, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“Yeah, I think that sounds alright.”

#cod #rodolfo rudy parra #call of duty #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #rudy x reader #rudy parra x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #fluff #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #rudy #rudy cod #rudy parra #rodolfo #rodolfo parra #rodolfo x reader #rodolfo cod

[am-i-interrupting]

Killing Games | Vox x Alastor’s Child Reader— OATSH

If you like what I’m doing consider tipping me for priority requests & access to characters I don’t usually write for such as Charlie, Valentino, Carmilla, and more.

Vox gets drunk and asks some questions, gets some answers and more questions.

Sometimes, Vox let his mind wander. That was more prevalent when he was drunk. Which is precisely why it was a bad idea for him to drink when he was in public, much less at an overlord party with his wife and Alastor, both notorious for being able to hold their liquor.

He was leaned slightly so his arm was around your shoulder but with that came most of his body weight. His free hand was trailing your blackened nails. Absolutely fascinated with the soft gradient and how the silver of your ring contrasted it.

He loved your sharp claws. He adored them and the softness with which they touched him with. Leaving nothing but small tingles along his skin. While also being capable of tearing through the flesh of others. He’d seen them dripping with blood many times and it was so beautiful.

“Have you ever thought,” he began idly, unknowingly cutting a conversation between you and Alastor short, “of killing me?”

“Yes.”

“Of course.”

You and Alastor both answered at the same time.

Vox whipped his head up immediately. He’d expected the answer from Alastor, but you? The two of you were married. He slept by you at night and you’d thought of killing him?

“You’ve wanted to kill me?” Vox asked you.

“Yes, often,” Alastor answered instead.

You amended Vox’s question, “No, I’ve thought of killing you, darling. I don’t plan on actually doing it. It wouldn’t be worth the hassle or the clean up. I’d also miss you too much for it to be a worthwhile effort.”

“But you’ve thought of it?”

“Don’t think you’re special,” you told him. “I’ve thought of killing most everyone I’ve ever met. It’s a passing thought.”

“Really? I commonly dwell on the idea,” Alastor said.

“Well, you’re not the one who married him so that’s not a true concern for you, is it?”

“It’s a concern for me,” Vox said.

“Yes, well, we have a deal,” you told Vox. “Should the time ever come where you do something irredeemable, it’ll be a team effort to kill your so really, you don’t.”

“You’ve discussed killing me?”

“I’ve wanted to kill you since the moment we’ve met,” Alastor said. “Luckily for you, I hold my child’s opinion in high regard and haven’t.”

“How lucky for us,” you said a bit sarcastically.

Vox’s hand holding yours tightened. “I feel like I’m in danger right now.”

You patted his hand. “You’re completely safe, I assure you.”

“Yeah, completely safe with two murderers.”

“What a fascinating thing,” Alastor said as he leaned on his hand, closer to Vox. “You were completely comfortable with the idea until the moment it was confirmed we’d thought of killing you.”

“Yeah, because there’s a difference between knowing you’d both killed people for breaking moral codes versus knowing you’ve both thought of killing me when I haven’t broken it,” Vox said.

“Debatable,” Alastor said.

You didn’t hesitate ripping the microphone Alastor had been letting bounce from hand to hand from him. You then proceeded to hit him with it. Alastor’s ears flicked back and he scowled at you, baring his teeth and gums. The microphone dissipated from your hands and into shadow.

“Again, I’ve thought of killing most people I’ve met,” you told Vox, like it was supposed to be reassuring.

“Starlight?”

“Yes.”

“She’s one of your favorite people,” Vox said.

“And it would be an awful tragedy to lose her,” you told him and it would, on more grounds than just the fact that she was your assistant.

“Rosie?”

“It’s a bit of a game between the three of us to try to kill one another actually,” you said.

“Ah, yes, you did get very close last time. Rosie’s got absolutely delectable calves. You did a very wondrous job with that meal preparation,” Alastor said.

“Thanks, daddy,” you said with what looked like genuine appreciation for the compliment.

“That’s why Rosie was in a wheelchair for a month?!” Vox asked, yelled really causing multiple heads (including Rosie’s own) to turn to your table.

“Do be aware of your volume,” Alastor said, “but yes. I don’t say it often but I was very proud.”

“Wait, the three of you,” Vox said gesturing between the two of you with his hand that was hanging off your shoulder. “The three of you have made it a game to kill each other.”

“That was established,” Alastor said.

“So you’ve thought of killing each other?”

“And attempted it as a passing game,” you said. “Every time we eat something the other makes there’s a chance it’ll be poisoned. Those times I’ve gotten sick after seeing daddy, those were all because he’d poisoned the food.”

“You’ve poisoned your child?!”

“Volume,” you said before you reached for the dial at the side of his face and turned it down several notches. “But don’t worry, I was the one who poisoned him first.”

“And what an excellent job at that you did!” Alastor praised. “I was incapacitated for two and a half days. A true feat!”

Vox’s face briefly glitched out before coming back on. “Normal people don’t think about much less try to lull people they like much less their family.”

“Really?” You looked over at Alastor and then back at Vox. “So, the depictions in media of children hating their parents is over exaggerated?”

“Yes!”

“Huh,” Alastor said, “fascinating. I thought it was far more common but I suppose I only had your experience and my own to compare. How interesting.”

“What family did I marry into?” Vox asked as he downed your glass in one go.

“You should have known better,” you told him with a soft smile.

Later that night, the two of you were in bed. You were on Vox’s chest. Your claws drawing up and down his exposed chest.

“How would you kill me?” Vox asked.

You laughed softly, breath brushing against his skin. “Still on this?”

“Humor me.”

You were silent for a moment, just listening to his heartbeat.

“The thought of living without you hurts too much for me to entertain the idea for long,” you said. “The idea normally comes to me quick and sudden and leaves just as fast. Sometimes I’ll be making dinner and think of slipping something in your drink. Other times it’s the knife. How easy it would be to turn around and drag it from your belly button to your collarbone—“ your claw moved down the path— “Right now it’d be so easy to choke—“ your hand went up to his neck and squeezed— “you to sleep.”

Your grip loosened and you placed your head back on his chest.

“But I can’t,” you said. “I can think about it but I can’t do it. I’d miss you too much.”

When you were asleep, Vox stayed awake. His hands ran through the fur of your tail and scratched at the base of it.

He had a lot to think about. The game of death. The fact that you’d thought of killing him. That the main think that stopped you was your affection for you.

Why was he so horny?

If you like what I’m doing consider commissioning me for canon/canon stories AND personalized canon/reader stories.

#vox x reader #hazbin vox x reader #one author two show hosts #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader

[littlespacereader]

I saw that ur criminal minds agere fic is just one so here is my request

Daddy hoch x dada derek x little reader where something is bothering her but she regressed to a headspace where she is non verbal (she is always tiny in her headspace but today she was extra tiny) and they try to find out what's wrong but there gotta go to work but dont want to leave her alone so they go all to the Bau and after a while she falls asleep with her paci in mouth a stuffy under her arm a blankie in her hand and wrapped in a very big cozy weighet blanked 😍😍🥺

GET OUT OF HERE! Don’t actually because this fic is absolutely adorable!! I’m a sucker for a good CG!Hotch fic but CG!Morgan too!! I’m dead!! I absolutely love the ideas you added to the request so I made sure to include them all! I apologize for how long this took me to write. Between school and all the rewriting I’ve been doing it’s been a bit of a hassle. But I’m very happy with how this fic turned out! Please enjoy!! Thank you for the request!

Baby in the Bullpen 🍼🏢📄

Caregiver! Aaron Hotchner, Caregiver! Derek Morgan, & Fem Little! Reader

Tags - SFW!, hurt/comfort, hugs, cuddles, forehead kisses, pacifiers, sippy cups, low key mentions of pull-ups, BAU family

Nicknames - Princess, sweetheart, baby, sweet girl, Daddy for Hotch, Dada for Morgan

Picture a day where everything is perfect. It’s a perfect day where everything goes well and there’s no problem or pressure at all. Almost like you’ve been floating on a happy little cloud.

Today is not one of those days.

Today is a day where everything that could possibly go wrong goes wrong. Like a rain cloud that’s only centered on you.

I knew the moment I woke up it was going to be one of those days. Snuggled between my Caregivers in a nice warm bed, what more could any Little ask for? But my alarm went off and off to work I went.

It wasn’t every day my Caregivers had the day off, so I was especially mad I had work while the two of them were home. But trying to match my schedule with theirs always seemed like an uphill battle.

I arrived to my job at the bookstore to a line, let me repeat, A LINE of angry customers! How you could possibly be angry in a bookstore is beyond me, but today wanted to test me to see my limits.

So there I stood, listening to one complaint after the other, all while trying to keep my composure.

My book came with scratches on the cover!

My book’s cover was supposed to be purple!

I didn’t like the ending!

You didn’t say it was a sad book!

Blah, Blah, Blah. All utterly stupid and pointless complaints that were more ridiculous than the next. Despite their ridiculous claims it’s began to ware me down with one right after the other.

I longed for the day to end, for my Caregivers, who were probably on each others nerve by now without me as their favorite buffer. The thought brought a smile to my face.

Then my manager came over and decided to ruin it all. “Y/N, I’m going to need you to stay later today. Elizabeth called in sick.”

“I can’t I have plans.” Do I actually have plans? No, nothing besides a nice early dinner and cuddling with my Caregivers. But she didn’t need to know that.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel them. You’re the only one here so you’re going to cover it.” And with that she walked away.

Suddenly I felt the weight of the day layered on again. I became overwhelmed with emotions I wasn’t allowed to have at the moment. I took my break and went into the restroom to pull myself together.

Frustrated tears fell from my eyes but I couldn’t break down now, not yet. I would have time for this when I got home. I just needed a minute and then I could go back out there and deal with everyone once again.

~~~

Morgan could see Y/N’s headlights going up the driveway before he heard the car door slam shut.

“Hotch, she’s home.” He called out to him, before the front door opened.

The moment Y/N entered the house, Morgan and Hotch immediately looked over. Morgan sat by the television and Hotch had popped out of kitchen. But immediately they could both see that something was wrong.

“Princess? You alright?” Morgan right away asked. His usual smile replaced with a worried look.

Y/N didn’t say a word. She just dropped her bags and started crying. Morgan jumped from the couch and quickly made his way over to her.

“Hey, hey, hey, what happened? What’s going on?” Morgan lifted the sad Little into his arms.

Y/N didn’t say a word, she just grabbed Morgan’s shirt like her life depended on it and cried. Hotch crossed the house, joining Morgan and Y/N at the door.

The two Caregivers shared a worried look. “What happened sweetheart?” Hotch tried to ask but still Y/N didn’t say a word. She just buried her head against Morgan’s chest and continued to sob.

Morgan began walking around the room with the Little in his arms, lighting bouncing and shushing her cries. One arm wraps around her back with his hand cradling her head.

Morgan and Hotch continue to share worried looks to one another as the two Caregivers turn their profiling sides on for a moment.

“She was supposed to be home at 3 right?”

“Yeah but she texted me saying they had to keep her there long.” Hotch replied.

“So a bad day at work?”

“This isn’t just from a bad day at work. This is a build up. We were gone all last week and now the first day of our break she has to work. Mix that with possibly a bad day and…” Hotch trailed on.

“Poor baby,” Morgan coos, “Missing your handsome Caregiver today huh?” He jokes hoping to get anything from his little one, but it doesn’t get a smile. Instead she just rests her head on his shoulder as tears still slip from her eyes.

Thankfully all the walking around bouncing seemed to work, at least a little bit. Y/N was no longer crying but she didn’t seem too happy either.

“There we go, no more tear gorgeous. You’re okay now. We’ve got you.” Morgan sat beside Hotch on the couch, pulling Y/N in his lap.

Hotch leaned over and wiped the remaining tears from her face. “It’s been a long day hasn’t it?” He asked but Y/N just cuddled closer to Morgan instead of answering.

All at once the two realized their baby was feeling a bit non verbal today. It didn’t happen often with Y/N, but when it did they knew she was feeling especially young.

“Not in the mood for talking? That’s okay princess. We’ve got you.” Morgan starts to say.

“How about this? How about we go upstairs and get changed out of these big uncomfortable clothes and into something a bit more comfortable? Squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no.”

Morgan took her hand in his. After a moment of thinking he set a single squeeze. He looked to Hotch and nodded. “Alright, let’s get you changed.”

He stands and immediately smells something burning. “Aaron…you’re burning dinner again.” Hotch’s face dropped. He jumps up from the couch and runs into the kitchen.

Morgan smirked and shook his head. He carries Y/N upstairs and while chuckling, “It isn’t really a Daddy dinner if he didn’t burn it?” He joked. That got a small smile from Y/N. They were heading in the right direction.

Once in her light pink bedroom, he set her down on her bed and began going through her dresser drawer. “Okay, I think for you tonight we’re going to get you dressed in the absolute softest pajamas. And the absolute softest pajama you have arrrreeeeee these!”

He turned back to the bed to see Y/N sitting patiently with her favorite stuffie Sharky the shark in hand. “Ta-da!” He held up the fluffy pink long sleeve onesie complete with footed feet.

Y/N squeezes their stuffie as they took a moment of consideration. They decided with a simple nod of the head as a yes to Morgan and the footed onesie.

“Great! I thought I picked a good one,” he winked, “Now let’s get you changed for the night.”

Morgan helped Y/N take off their normal work attire and changed into the soft onesie and a pull-up for good measure. “There we are. Now let’s get your hair out of your face.” Morgan moved to get their hair tied and brush when there was a knock to the door.

~~~

Daddy walked in and he had that look on his face. You know, the look that says something’s wrong and he’s not happy about it.

“Derek I need to speak to you for a moment.”

That’s never a good thing.

“Y/N, we’ll be right outside the door okay? Just for a minute.” Dada reiterated.

My two Caregivers left the room and closed the door behind them. Then, once again, I was alone. The terrible feelings start to come back again.

Dada scared them away with his gentle rocking, shushing and jokes. He always knows how to make me feel better when I’m upset. But now my sadness was returning and with it fear. It’s never a good thing when your Caregivers go to talk about something first without you there.

I squeezed my shark stuffie a little tighter as I stared down the bedroom door. Was I in trouble? Was there trouble? My mind started to spiral with ideas.

It sounded like they were arguing, not with each other but about something. Again, that’s never a good thing to hear. My sadness took a backseat for a second as curiosity took the wheel. I hoped off my bed and walked over to the door with the hopes of maybe catching what they were talking about.

“Call them back and tell them we can’t. I mean you see the kind of night she’s having.”

“You don’t think I know that? *sigh* I tried everything, every excuse in the book. Rossi knows us, he knows Y/N. He wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t life or death, you know he wouldn’t.”

“So what are we going to do? She can’t be by herself tonight-“

I backed away from the door as I processed what they’re saying. Uncle Rossi called? That means they were going to the office. They’re leaving me.

The realization brought sadness back to the drivers seat. I walked back over to my bed and crawled under the covers. Maybe it’s better if I’m alone. I don’t want them! I don’t want anyone!

I cried into my shark stuffie as I heard the door open and close again. Then I heard the sound of footsteps over to my bed before I felt someone sit next to me.

“Sweetheart it’s okay. You don’t have to hide it’s just Daddy.” Hotch said as his hand rubbed the top of the blanket.

Okay maybe I was lying when I said I wanted to be alone…because I don’t. I want him to stay!

I peeked my head out from the blanket and was met with Daddy’s worried eyes. He opened his arms to me as a silent invitation, one I happily took. He brought me into his lap and hugged me close. I rested my head on his shoulder as tears fell from my eyes.

“There’s my sweet girl. Now, there’s something we need to talk about.”

The last scared me, and all at once I started crying some more as I shook my head no. I don’t want to hear the bad news.

“It’s okay, you didn’t hear it yet. It’s not a bad thing I promise. It’s just…a change of plans.” Hotch sighed as he began to rub my back to calm me down, “You see, Uncle Rossi called me and he really needs Dada and I to go to the office and work on something. Now normal I would rather you stay home and stay far away from the office. But I can see you really need Dada and I tonight so…you’re going to come to the office with us.”

My sniffles here and there stopped for a moment as I process what he was saying. I would come into the office with them?

I lifted my head off his shoulder and looked at him confused. I would go to his office, like this? And he was okay with it? I mean, his team knows about my regress. One of them even regresses too. Spencer and I are best friends because of it. But everyone else at the FBI doesn’t know.

I guess Daddy could see my confusing because he explained on. “It would only be us, just our team. It’s too late for everyone else to be at the office anyway. Just Aunt JJ, Aunt Emily, Aunt Penelope, Uncle Rossi and Spencer. No one else.”

That put my worries at ease, but it didn’t answer million other questions running through my mind. Before I really understood what was happening, he stood up and made his way over to the dresser.

He paused seeing my hair ties and brush sitting on top. Daddy chuckled, “It’s a good thing I stopped Dada before he brushed your hair. Isn’t that right?”

I mean he wasn’t lying. When it came to doing my hair, Hotch is my favorite person…well after Aunt Penelope, JJ and Emily of course. Morgan…he wasn’t the most gentle when it came to brushing my hair. He sat back on the bed and began to brush and tie my hair.

Once satisfied, he went to my closet and grabbed my usual Little to-go bag. He began packing it with the usuals some coloring books, crayons, toys, my pacifier, and a weighted blanket. But speaking of paci…

Immediately when I saw my favorite pacifier I whined and made grabbie hands for it. Daddy immediately held it up for me as if to say “is this want you want?” When I nodded my head yes repeatedly, he walked over and handed it to me.

I immediately popped it in and felt the rush of relief. There’s something about a paci that just melts away the stress. I held Sharkey close and closed my eyes for a moment, soaking in the nice fuzzy feeling before it disappeared.

Daddy walked back over with a little pacifier clip. He wrapped it around and clipped it to my onesie so I wouldn’t lose it.

Dada popped in with a sippy cup on his hand. He handed it to Daddy before he zipped the bag up. I looked over at Dada and notice the new outfit he was wearing. Actually, now that I’m thinking that I notice Daddy was the same way. Out of their usual at home comfy clothes and back into their stupid work clothes.

“All set?” Hotch asked Morgan.

“Yeah I’m all set. Is she all good?”

“She’s all packed up and ready to go.”

Then they both looked back to me. I just squeezed Sharky and looked away. Dada walked over and kneeled down beside me.

“I know the last thing you want to do tonight is go out. But…” he dragged the but on, “Think of this whole thing like an adventure. Going undercover with your Caregivers at the FBI. You’re our Little agent tonight.”

I lifted my head up and met his eyes. That did sound cool the way he was saying it. I put my arms out to him and made grabby hands to be held.

He never needs to be told twice. He smiled, lifting me up into his arms. “Come on baby, let’s start our adventure.”

Dada carried me to the car with Daddy right behind. In Daddy’s arms, my backpack and his brief case in the other. Daddy hoping in the drivers seat while Dada buckled me into my seat. Once he hopped into the passenger seat, we were off.

The ride to the BAU wasn’t long at all, but with the emotionally exhausting day I’ve been having, I kept nodding off the whole drive. I really only woke up when the SUV came to a stop in the underground parking garage.

Daddy came to my side of the car, helping me with my seatbelt before I hoped out. It was weird seeing the parking garage so empty. Usually it would be filled with cars. Now it had our SUV and the others cars inside of it with the rest of the spots empty.

We made our way to the elevator. “Wanna press 15 for me sweetheart?” Hotch asked. I nodded and happily pressed the button. With that the doors close and we start to go up.

Once the doors opened I immediately started to feel shy. It’s very rare that I go out regressed like this, walking around in my onesie, stuffie in my hands and my paci in my mouth.

But today was a horrible, horrible day. And there was no way I was going to be much older than I am now.

I walk closer to Dada and grab his hand. He holds onto it tightly as I walk sort of hidden behind him.

Once in the bullpen Rossi greeted us. He began briefing Morgan and Hotch on what’s going on. All the big words fly over my head as I stay hidden against Dada’s side.

After a moment he turns and looks at me, “And hello my beautiful niece! How are you doing tonight? Out on a late night adventure?” Rossi smiles.

“She’s not feeling very talkative tonight David.” Hotch explains.

“Aw! That’s no problem. Whatever is most comfortable for my favorite niece in the whole world.” His kindness starts to bring me out of my shell a bit. I turn from Dada’s side to Rossi with a small smile across my face.

“She’s your only niece.” Morgan chuckles.

“Doesn’t make her any less my favorite.” Rossi winks towards me. Again I can’t help but smile.

With my free hand I lift Sharky up to Rossi to see. “Ahh! Well if it isn’t Sharky! He scared me! I thought there was a loose shark in here! You better keep an eye on him Y/N.” He winked.

Rossi looks back up towards Morgan and Hotch and explaining what they needed to do.

Morgan looks to me and squeezes my hand before letting it go, “Alright princess I gotta go do some work. You’re going to go with Daddy, okay? I’ll see you later.”

With a pat to my back and a kiss to the top of my forehead Dada he made a move to leave. But before he could I grabbed his hand again, a whine sounding behind my pacifier.

I could feel Daddy place a hand on my shoulder as Dada turned around and took his hand from me. “I know baby, I know. I promise I’ll be back soon. You stay with Daddy.” He tried to reassure but I shake my head no.

Tears fell from my face as I watched him walk into the middle of the bullpen and take a seat at his desk. I didn’t want this! I want to be home with the two of them!

Daddy picks me up and carried me towards his office, all while rubbing my back and trying to reassure me. Looking over his shoulder I could see the whole team gathering to talk about the case.

Aunt JJ and Emily stand next to Morgan’s desk chatting with him. Not unusual. What is unusual is Spencer. I’ve never seen Spencer outside of our headspaces before. Whenever we hang out he’s regressed with me. So seeing him working and being his usual adult self was an odd shock to my system.

But soon we were in Daddy’s office with the door shutting behind him. All at once the overwhelming office became less overwhelmed with just the two of us together.

He sat his briefcase down on his desk before crossing the office and taking a seat with me on his office couch. “It’s okay. I know, it’s a long day isn’t it? And it keeps getting longer. But I’m here and Dada’s just a few feet away. We’re here.”

Daddy spends a moment reassuring and comforting me. Once my tears stop falling he coaxes me to start to color at his coffee table. “Alright, Daddy’s got to go do some work and while I do why don’t you color a picture for Dada and I? If you need anything you just come over and I’ll help you.”

With a kiss to my forehead, he picked me up and placed me on the couch. He grabs my coloring book, my crayons and my sippy cup and places them all infront of me before he heads to his desk to work.

For a little while I try not to bother him as he types away on his computer and makes phone call after phone call. But after a picture or two I get a bit antsy. I want to be by him or Dada! Not at this stupid coffee table!

So, grabbing Sharky and my weighted blanket, I make my way over to Daddy at his desk. I round the desk and pull on his sleeve.

~~~

Hotch, who can’t even remember his name at the moment with the amount of work he has, snaps out of his fog when he feels a small tug on his sleeve.

Then a small smile creeps across his face as he sees the tired Little standing infront of him, rubbing their eyes with their fist, a yawn or two escaping behind their pacifier.

“Oh, Y/N. What’s the matter sweetheart?” He asks before remembering.

He takes a moment to look them over before asking, “You wanna go to bed sweetheart?” That gets a nod. “Okay, give me a second and I’ll get the couch set up for you.”

But before he even turns back to his computer, Y/N whiles and shakes her head no. That seemed to upset her.

Hotch turns to her once again, this time confused. She wants to sleep, but not on the couch. “What’s the matter honey?” He asked concerned.

Y/N, with tired tears in her eyes, reach out to him with her stuffie and blanket in her arms. Ohhhhhhh. Finally it kicks in.

“You wanna snuggle honey? Okay. Come here, let’s bundle you up first.” Y/N holds onto her shark as Hotch leans forward and wraps her weighted blanket around her. Then he picked her up like a little burrito and sits her on his lap. Her head rest comfortably against his chest as he wraps his arms around her.

“There you go. Comfy?” He asks getting a small nod in agreement. “Alright, you go to sleep. Daddy will be right here to protect you.” Hotch adds with a kiss to her forehead for good measure.

Hotch continues on working with Y/N peacefully sleeping in his arms. Her head pressed again his chest listening to his heart beat, her paci still in her mouth and her shark stuffie held tightly inside her blankie. She’s the most relaxed she had been all day.

An hour flew by before Hotch received a knock at his door. Garcia popped her head in to ask Hotch a question but that quickly flew out the window as she got a look at how adorable Y/N was.

“Oh my gosh!!! Look at her!!” She whispered, practically dying at the sight of Y/N peacefully sleep in Hotch’s arms.

Garcia couldn’t help herself and alerted everyone to the cute sight. Soon everyone was taking a break from their work to pop into Hotch’s office and see Y/N. They all cooed and awed at the adorable Little who only cuddled closer to her Caregiver.

Morgan smirks and rolls his eyes plays fully, “Hey! When is it my turn?”

“Your chances of being president of the FBI are better than you getting Y/N from my arms.” Hotch jokes back. Now that he had the sweet sleeping Little in his arms, he was not letting her go.

#age regression #age regressor #agere little #agere #little space #sfw age regression #sfw agere #agere post #sfw littlespace #age regression blog #age regression writing #age regression community #sfw age regressor #age regression sfw #age regression fic #ageregression #caregiver!aaron hotch #caregiver!derek morgan #little blog #little!reader #cg! aaron hotchner #cg!derek morgan #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds agere #age re safe space #agere blog #padded little #sfw little stuff #sfw little blog

[twig-gy]

walk until your feet blister. for miles and miles and miles until the air catches in your throat. this is necessary, and you know that. it still feels a little like repenting for something that no one could forgive you for. like your host. every motion is deliberate - if you fall, you’re not sure if you can get back up. you should be sure you can get back up. right? you have practice. so much practice. yet your body is a badly taped together glass on the verge of spilling its pieces. your hands are shaking. hunger. mistaken hunger, because you shouldn’t need to eat, but it still seeps into your legs and mocks you. your body is always mocking you. you were always the weakest, after all. you need heart’s help too often. he does it, sure. most of the time without commenting on it, sure. but you still hate it. you don’t like needing heart. your head pounds in time with the clock you fixed to your face all those days ago - one two three one two three all the numbers are blurring together with the rest of the pain. why does your body betray you so? you should have finished the job. heart was right. you’re a coward. you reach up and still the hands. it’s eerily silent without the ticking. without noticing, you kneel. once again you are reminded of your host. praying to something that doesn’t exist. praying - and for what? surely he knows that no one is coming to save him. surely he knows. surely he knows you’re the closest thing he has to a savior, and clearly even you, even you are faulty. if you are faulty, then everything else is faulty. if you are faulty everything else is fucking breaking apart. surely he knows how silly it is to scorn the two of you, to bat your hand away, and then come crawling back. please save me. soul’s adept at begging without words. practice does not make perfect, but it certainly does help. surely he knows how stupid all of this is.

you lie down, the usual ‘i’m getting my body dirty, i can feel the grass on my skin, i’m going to have to take a shower, it’s getting into my hair-‘ somehow not stopping you, you’re just that exhausted. it’s dirty. it’s dirty and your skin itches because of it.

you close your eyes.

#cccc #cj mind #cccc mind #twig.txt #brainrot.exe #mi pali e ni #mi pali e sitelen

[discotitsposts]

my favorite distraction

unit chief spencer reid x reader

reposting as a whole new post bc i couldn’t link the second part before

originally posted March 25th 2024 i believe

The team was currently giving the profile and the way Spencer was speaking with such authority and confidence you’d never seen before. It was so hot. He had stubble on his face and his shirt was slightly disheveled from underneath his cardigan. After he’s finished speaking the cops leave to do their job. You and Spencer go back to the office you guys had been using to try to solve the case. Spencer realizes suddenly how warm it is in the station and goes to remove his cardigan. You are in shock as he starts taking it off practically drooling at the sight. Spencer, completely oblivious hands you his cardigan and asks you if you could hang it up for him. Without thinking you reply, “Yes, sir.” He gives you a funny look and you smack your forehead when you turn around. He thinks nothing of it until it happens again. This time back at the BAU. As the new unit chief he has a lot of paper work to get done. He doesn’t mind it he likes paper work. One thing stands out to him, one of your files is incorrectly done. You’re the only one still left in the office so he brings it down to you to correct your small mistake. You look up when he walks over to you. Oh and the way he walks, it always gets to you. Especially when he’s wearing a too tight shirt, like he is now. Uh oh he’s walking towards you. He hands you a file you had finished earlier.

Hey, I was just wondering if you could take another look at this for me, I think you made a little mistake right here,” He reaches over your shoulder to point at the misinformation. You nod at what he’s saying. “If you could please fix that and then get it back to me I would appreciate that.” He smiles at you and waits for your answer. Again, only thinking of his constricted biceps in that shirt you blurt, “Yes sir!” You put your head down immediately and get to correcting what he had told you to, until you feel his big warm hand on your shoulder. You look up and he’s staring you in the eyes, he breaks the silence.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what,” you whisper so softly he can barely hear your reply.

You keep calling me sir, I told you you don’t have to do that. It feels strange when we’ve worked together for 12 years. My desk used to be right there,” He points at Luke’s new desk. “Now it’s up there,” He raises his finger to Hotch’s old office. “Not much difference except the stairs.” You giggle without thinking. Wait maybe he didn’t intend that to be funny. NO. He breaks into a smile.

“You know, I would tell you why you keep calling me sir, but that breaks the rules of inter-team profiling.” You panic and feel sweaty at the prospect that he might know why you panic around him. “It’s you!” You blurt. His mouth opens in shock, “Me?”

YOU! I love those damn cardigans on you and your hair is so fluffy and you’re so warm!” He stares at you in shock still and you cover your mouth with your hands to stop more stupid stuff to come out. You stand up to make an escape but his hand slams on the desk in front of you to stop you. His other arm gets on your waist and he kisses you mindlessly. He stops suddenly and pulls away. You stand there with disappointment written on your face.

We can’t do that, ever again, at least not while both of us are still in the BAU.” He sighs.

“I’ll quit!” You blurt again.

He chuckles, “I can’t ask you to do that. I know you love your job.”

“I’ll transfer! Whatever you want me to do I’ll do it.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t do that. Well, it’s getting late. See you tomorrow.” He walks back to his desk and brings your now corrected file with him.

The next day

Spencer gets to his office early head still reeling after having replayed his moment with you the previous night. He feels terrible about it and wants to apologize. You’re not in yet since there’s no coffee cup on your desk like usual. Some part of him fears he may have scared you off. You two couldn’t be the same after that. He sits down and notices a paper on his desk. He skims through it.

It was your Request Of Transfer.

He picks up the phone to call you.

part two-

use of she her pronouns for reader but you could honestly replace any details some mature themes. 18+

Spencer was kissing you so passionately and aggressively you couldn't stand it. You wanted, needed more, you break away to rip your shirt off and he rips his open. Buttons flying. Then a loud sound right in your ear ringing so loudly you can barely focus on kissing him.

You open your eyes and you're in your bed, alone. Well not totally, your phone is ringing like crazy. Completely annoyed that whoever it was had interrupted your dream.

You check the caller ID. Spencer. Uh oh. What if he was angry you requested a transfer. He had told you quite firmly to not do that. Oh well how bad could him being angry be? He was really sexy when he was angry anyway.

You pick up and hear his even sexier morning voice.

"I thought I specifically said do not request a transfer."

Not angry. More nervous? Concerned maybe.

"I said I would do anything for you." You reply picking at your nail.

"No you said, 'Whatever you want me to do l'll do it,' I didn't want you to transfer."

"Well do you want me to quit instead?" You start fixing your hair in the mirror as though he could see you.

"No that's not- why are you doing this. Really. Is it me?"He still sounds nervous.

"Yes, because you said, and i quote "We can't do this while we both are in the BAU." You put your fingers up as air quotes even though no one can see you. Well except your nosey neighbor, Terry, who's always peeking at your window. You wave at her while Spencer takes a deep breath.

"Just come into work today. Alright?"

"Work? I'm unemployed right now!" You joke.

"Just come in here. Come to my office right away when you get here. I need to speak to you in person about this."

Feeling more confident you speak in a sultry voice, "Yes, sir." You hang up and go to get ready.

After you hang up Spencer is in shock at your last words.

"Yes sir" Why had those two words been so hot coming from your mouth. He feels a certain rush of blood between his legs and curses. His stomach felt all tingly.

Butterflies they call it, normally caused by stress or anxiety but this wasn't stress or anxiety. I don't feel that around her. It's the release of norepinephrine in your central nervous system but does that mean i'm in love with her? He thought. (had to google that one)

"I'm going crazy." He says out loud and rubs his face with his hands.

"You still seem to have all your marbles to me." He looks up as David Rossi walks into his office and shuts the door. He gives him a look that says, you can tell me. Spencer spills his guts to Rossi about the whole situation. Well except for the part about his enlarged crotch. When he's done Rossi sits back in his chair and is silent. He crosses his legs and fixes his cufflinks. Cartier, probably way too expensive. Spencer thinks. Rossi finally speaks. "You're not crazy kid, you're an idiot."

Spencer looks taken aback, and opens his mouth to talk when Rossi speaks again. "No I know you have an IQ of 187 and can read 20,000 words per minute so statistically you're not an idiot. I mean in love. You're an idiot in love and if you don't let her transfer you're going to regret it for the rest of your life. Not only that, she is going to do everything in her power to drive you insane until you let in. Save yourself the trouble and when you two get married you can host the wedding in my backyard." He pats Spencer on the back and stops at the door. "Oh and incidentally you're not fooling anyone having that book in your lap. Don't worry it's perfectly natural to have that reaction. Good luck." With that he shuts the door and Spencer's mouth is left open in shock. As Emily once said, IQ of 187 slashed to 60.

You get to the doors of the BAU and give yourself a little pep talk while staring at Spencer's closed office door.

You shake off the nerves and click-clack up the stairs.

You knock softly on his door but he doesn't get up and open it. He simply calls out, "Come in." You, being very mature, giggle at the word come and push the door open and step in. In a form fitting dress that makes you look very beautiful and in the most flattering color, you look like a literal goddess. Spencer almost loses his mind completely at this look on you. Was he dreaming? Maybe. Since you're walking around his office admiring his awards and PHDs, he discreetly pinches his arm and feels pain instantly. Nope not dreaming. You stop looking around and he motions you to take a seat. You look at the comfy chair in front of him. You opt for sitting on his desk instead. He stares in shock as you hop up on his desk and swing your legs. He stares at them and then at your face. He's not saying anything so you start a conversation. "Aren't you glad we're not cartoon characters?" He snaps out of it and says "Huh?"

"I said aren't you glad we're not cartoon characters.

“Otherwise we'd have to wear the same outfits all the time."

"Oh- oh yeah I guess i've never really thought about that before." He is confused why you would bring this up. This has nothing to do with why you're really there.

"Like if this was Scooby-Doo I probably wouldn't be wearing this ah-dorable dress!" You put emphasis on the adorable part. Which makes him look up, but this means his face is level with your chest which is also emphasized today. He chokes up and manages to stammer out, "Y-y-yeah," His adorable puppy eyes look at you. Trying to avoid what's in front of him.

"What's the matter Reid? Cat got your tongue?" You smirk at the fact you're making him forget everything he knows. This newfound power you have over him is insane to you. Deep down, he really is still the same man from all those years ago, before all the bad happened to him. Still just as nervous around breasts as he always had been. “Why don’t you sign my transfer request, send it in, and then come over to my place tonight for a rendezvous, hmm?”

He nods then realizes, “What, no?!”

“I'm gonna make your life hell then." You smile and walk away. He gulps. He has a feeling he knows what you're going to do.

Garcia briefs you of the new case but all Spencer can focus on is your hand creeping up his thigh. Then you pull it away and you lift your dress up right in his view. To anyone else it would seem you were adjusting the the hem but he knew you were doing it just to torture him.

Well he wasn't going give in. What were you going to do take your bra off in front of the team?

The real reason he didn't want to sign your transfer was because if he did, it would all change, which he wasn't big on. He likes the banter with you while on cases. It lightens the mood when he feels stressed. He likes you being in his sights at all times. If you transferred he wouldn't see you all day and if you were to pursue a relationship with him? He would definitely worry about you even more than he already does. Truth is, he's terrified.

On the jet you still didn't let up. Everyone knew Spencer liked his time alone on the jet to read after discussing the case so they usually let him sit alone and do his own thing. You weren't about to let him have a moment of peace. You stand next to where he's sitting. "Seat taken?

You say pointing at the one across. He looks up from his book and shakes his head. You tell him, "Actually I think I'll take this one," You point to the seat next to him and before he can protest. You're crawling over him to get to the seat next to him. Your butt bumps his book and knocks it out of his hand. He's so flustered and red it makes you chuckle into your hand.

He mutters, "Now I'm REALLY going to not sign your request off."

You blow him a kiss, "It's your funeral." He picks his book back up and you grab another from his bag and start reading it. You bring your arm up his bicep and drag it up and down, up and down. It's quite relaxing and he ends up falling asleep. Something he hadn't done well in a while.

He wakes up when the jet lands in Florida. Since it's summer it's especially hot. He half expects to see you next to him in a bikini but you're not there. and his book you had borrowed tucked neatly back into his bag.

Everyone gets to the precinct except you. He pulls Ju to the side, "Where is y/n?" He whispers. Nervous if you're up to anything.

JJ looks up, "We sent her to make the hotel arrangements." Uh oh He pulls his phone out, contemplating calling you, when the lieutenant walks in he puts his phone away and shakes his hand and introduces everyone.

When you walk back into the station wearing a normal tank top and jean shorts, Spencer thinks it looks like normal attire thank goodness. Your shirt isn't even cropped and the shorts are tight and a little short but hey it's hot out. He lets it go and figured you'd be too embarrassed to try anything. Especially with the case at hand. Which was just a con artist who had scammed people out of millions of dollars but he needed to be stopped.

Emily and JJ go to speak to some of the people who had Luke and Matt spoke to the rest. There was a lot. Rossi and Dr Lewis went out to the last known location of the Unsub to profile, while You and Reid set up an evidence board and draw a profile up. "Definitely a white male mid 30s-40s l'd say." Reid stares at the map of all the locations. Definitely you agree in your head. You only plan on distracting him for a minute. When he stands up straight, You slide past him brushing against him. His breath hitches. So that was why you had worn the shorts. Then it gets worse. Or better. He doesn't know yet. You throw a marker on the floor. "Oopsie!" You bend over to grab it and stand back up and then throw it again. "Oopsie again!" You yet again bend over to grab it and he grabs your arm and sits you down.

"I know what's you're trying to do," he starts.

You cut him off quickly, "What do you think I'm trying to do sir?" You push your arms together and pout. He lets out a quick breath and then notices JJ and Emily come back. "We have a suspect in custody!" Emily announces excitedly. JJ shakes her head and smiles.

"She found him peeking in the window while we were speaking with the James family and she chased him down the street, through a bush and kicked in a gate and slammed him down. She's pretty proud of herself." You laugh knowing how Emily loves taking unsubs down.

You guys take a break for the night to get some rest.

Spencer reaches his assigned hotel room and he opens it. Nothing unusual. One bed. You're not here, so at least he'll probably get some sleep without thinking of your hips. Shit. Just when he thinks he's safe you walk through the door holding your keycard, smirking. "You didn't think you'd be alone tonight did you?" He pushes his face into his hands and flops on the bed stomach first. "Oh no, I forgot you made the hotel arrangements." Then he starts laughing. You start to unpack your bag with everything you'd be needing for that night. Careful to not let him see a few select items.

You go get ready in the bathroom. Wearing a purple see through slip you decide to ditch the underwear and sleep with nothing under. When you get out of the bathroom Spencer is turned around bent over his go bag. "Nice butt," You say and he stands up slightly embarrassed,

"You like it huh?" Then he turns around and sees you and your lack of clothing. "Purples your favorite right?" He nods slowly taking it all in. You climb into bed. Spencer's so tired he doesn't even do a night routine and slides in next to you. The both of you fall into dreams immediately. When he wakes up he realizes his arms are hugging you close to him and you're snuggled together and you're so warm and comforting. Then he gets an idea which he will put in motion the second they get back to the BAU. He leaves the room before you wake.

When you wake up you're all alone. Wondering where he had gone you fear you may have done too much, taken it too far. Maybe you had scared him off and he had waited until you were asleep and changed rooms. What if he-

Theres a knock at the door to the room so you go to get up. As you do the bathroom door opens and Spencer comes out with just a towel around his waist. You had never seen him shirtless and you were drooling. He opens the door and thanks the man for the room service.

"Ordered you breakfast," He says rolling the tray to the bed. "Stay there." He commands and you throw your legs back into bed as he sets a tray over you and he pours creamer into your coffee the way you like. He stirs it for you and you don't think about why he might be doing it you just lay back and enjoy him making your breakfast perfect. He pours the syrup on your waffles and you think about making a joke but decide against it to not scare him off. Thank goodness he had just been in the shower when you woke up. If he really didn't want to pursue a relationship with you and let you transter what was the point in trying anymore?

Was he even attracted to you?

When you're done eating and back in the precinct you manage to prove it was this guy who had in fact conned everyone out of millions. He was now on his way to being sent to prison awaiting trial. On the jet home Spencer notices you've stopped hitting on him and acting sexy.

Now you're all covered up wearing a big sweater with sweatpants. He frowns at the thought that maybe you were upset he hadn't played along with your games. He had wanted to. You'll see when you get back to the BAU he would fix it.

You go back home Spencer having told everyone to go home and rest and take time to recuperate after working hard. You were a little bitter at this and upset he declined your offer to come over to watch a movie. You decide to just take care of yourself and reach into your drawer for your vibrator. You fall into bed and turn it on.

An hour later when you're done you put on a fluffy robe and make yourself a snack and start watching New Girl. When your phone rings. Spencer. You answer with, “What?” "I don't mean to bother you, but can you come into the BAU I know you're probably busy relaxing but-"

"I once told you l'd do anything for you." You smile to yourself, he DID want to see you.

"Ok but don't go to my office. I'm in the big conference room on the floor above the BAU." After hanging up you were about to grab your purse and go but catch a look at yourself in the mirror. No makeup, hair out of place and in a bathrobe! After quickly changing into something professional you hurry to the BAU and go one floor up to the room he had told you. You prepare yourself and then push the door open.

"Agent (Y/N)!" You see the Director, Aaron Hotchner. He shakes your hand, "It's nice to see you again. Reid was just telling me that he would like a few rules changed..." You look at Spencer who's smiling like a kid who's parents just told him he's going to Disneyland. "More specifically, Spencer requested the rules on relationships within the unit be changed. We wanted your input. I would allow you and Spencer to pursue this relationship while both of you still work in the same unit under the condition it doesn't affect the way the unit works. If I notice ANY misconduct between you two while on a case you will both be suspended and these rules reevaluated. Do you both understand me?"

"Yes I understand." You and Spencer say at the same time.

"Good. Sign here." Hotch cracks a smile and hands you a pen. You sign next to Spencer's scribbled signature.

"Good luck to you both."You hug him, "Hey are you and Jack going to JJ and Will's this Saturday? They're having a little get together!"

You ask when you pull away.

"Wouldn't miss it!" He says as he walks away and waves bye. Leaving you alone with Spencer. "Wow. You actually changed the rules to the game. I'm impressed." You cross your arms and he stands up and walks over to you and kisses you as passionately as he feels. You can't believe he did all that for you. In between the kiss you break away to tell him you love him "I love-"

"I know. I love you too."

2 months later

"Get on your fucking knees." You command. Spencer falls to the floor immediately when you walk in. He's ready to do whatever you ask. You crack your leather whip and he jumps. With every click of your stiletto boots, excitement grows within both of you.

He may be the boss at work, but at home? You were in charge.

again, reposting so it’s all one post!

(this was inspired by @mandarinmoons post here)

i ♡ sub spence i had to include it.

#in my mind hotch never left and became director of the fbi lol #criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #repost

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

GRAPHIC STORY TIME UNDER THE CUT

TW : boils ; swelling ; infections ; major TMIs ;

So to start off, I have this hormonal problem where my body for some reason gets boils everywhere and anywhere from the neck down. Now, for those of you who have the same issue or have gone through the same thing, I’m praying for you. For those who don’t know, it hurts… so bad.

The past week I’ve been suffering with a boil right at the edge of my ribcage and underneath my boob(my boobs are rather large, which doesn’t make things any better). The first half of the week, it was bearable, it was sore, but not too bad.

Fast forward to today, and it has swollen on the top to the size of a dollar coin, and underneath the skin, it’s swollen to the size of a ping pong ball, and the bruising has expanded the size of a tennis ball. It HURTS. My boobs are constantly rubbing against it, and at this point, the top layer if skin has literally been chaffed off from the constant friction of both my boobs and my bra when I have to wear one.

If I was at my old job, I would have called out, but alas, I just started a new job, I’m on 90 day probation, so I’m scared to call out. So I go in. I am in TEARS as I leave my house, but I don’t want to lose my job, so I pull aside my crew leader (love her so much, she’s amazing) at the start of the night and ask her if I can be on light work. She agreed.

Fast forward an hour into the shift, my back hurts from trying to stand a certain way to relieve some pressure, but I am in so much pain that once I go out on break, I full on cry like a baby in my car. Like, hyperventilating, sobbing, blubbering, I’m a mess. I call my mom, I’m crying to her, don’t know how she understands a thing I’m saying, but she tells me to do what I think I have to do to not be in pain.

SO

I go in, not even finishing my break, I find my crew leader, still crying btw, and I ask if I can talk to her in the office. She agrees, and I get to the office, and I tell her that it’s really bad, I can’t take it.

Now, the cool thing about my job is that we have a medical office and first responders literally ON SITE, they just be working there as normal people until there’s a medical emergency.

So she calls the first responders and the two sweetest, loveliest ladies come up to the office, and they’re trying to calm me down first. It doesn’t work but A+ for maximum effort.

They’re contemplating whether to send me home or not because it is my 90 days (and in their defense, a lot of people bullshit being hurt to try to go home early). So they ask to see it, and lemme tell you, the audible gasps that left all 3 women’s mouths, that shit had me feeling like I was about to die on the spot. (Turns out they were just genuinely shocked and concerned that I came into work, and this was when I still had a bandaid on over it.)

So they take me down to the medical office, and they carefully take the bandaid off, and again, the GASP when they saw the big picture. They were so apologetic even though it wasn’t even their fault, and they were trying to figure out what to do because they didn’t want to touch it or hurt me more. They ended up just putting ointment on it and then gauzing me up like I’ve been shot, but I love them all for how kind they were.

They were offering to drive me home and everything and they told me not to worry about the 90 day thing right now and to just focus on fixing my problem and going to the doctor as soon as possible to get checked because my boil is definitely infected and they don’t want me to go into septic shock.

They even walked me out to my car and made sure I was okay with driving before going back inside.

Like, this job is amazing! Not the work, all work sucks a majority of the time; but the people that I work with genuinely care. I’ve only been there a week and everyone greets me with a smile and they just all care about one another.

I might be in severe pain and on the brink of sepsis, but the people at my job care and that makes my heart feel good. I have to go to the doctors tomorrow though, so not excited for that at all. :(

#nana update #my body hates me

[leverage-ot3]

okay I’ve seen a lot of posts about sterling just being crowley and. guys. the implications just hear me out 😭😭😭

bending lore slightly here BUT let’s say crowley’s body was once inhabited by a human and crowley is possessing the body (maybe he kills the initial inhabitant bc he doesn’t care)

but he still has the guy’s memories. he doesn’t bother keeping up appearances with his ‘ex wife’ because he is too busy building up his hell empire. BUT for some reason he can’t quite identify, he still feels something towards his ‘daughter’. he lets the divorce happen and doesn’t feel the need (or desire) to fight for custody, but he can never quite forget her, to cast her out of his mind for good

some hijinks ensue with the leverage team. it’s mostly because even a grind culture demon wants some off time every once in a while, and for him the insurance investigator stuff is more of a hobby. interacting with the leverage crew is very low stakes for him, and honestly, quite amusing. they aren’t on his level power-wise, but that ford character gives him the mental exercise he hasn’t experienced in, well, he can’t even remember

he can feel their frustration and anger when they learn he has become employed by interpol and feeds off it. it’s great, and relaxing in a way he is never able to achieve while conducting hell-related business

one year he gets wind that olivia is in a really bad situation associated with his ‘ex wife’s’ new husband. he’s selling vital hardware to terrorists, and while that might actually be the kind of chaos he would normally support or be entertained by as the king of hell, something feels wrong about letting olivia stay anywhere near that man

he calls upon the body’s adversaries. he wouldn’t admit it, even under duress, BUT he feels slightly fond of them. nate for the three dimensional chess they play, sophie for her ability to charm and disguise, parker for her chaos and slightly unsettling nature (it’s the autism swag and being bad with human interaction but he doesn’t know that lol), hardison for his unapologetic intelligence and eliot for his hardened violent past and take-no-shit persona (he’s fun to tease)

they perform exactly as he expected, right into his carefully crafted plan. and then olivia is under his care and things get more complicated. he keeps her FAR, FAR away from anything related to the supernatural (heh). no one can find out about her, ESPECIALLY not those imbecile hunter brothers (if for nothing else than the embarrassment in revealing he has a weak spot)

not sure how to work it into this post but I also want to add that somewhere along the way he develops feelings for nate and sophie. the frame up job is near and dear to my heart and you can’t convince me that isn’t fighting as flirting behavior. his interpol persona is more of a side hustle so to speak, but he finds it fun (relaxing, even) to fill that role. there aren’t any obligations of other demons, bothersome hunters, or anything like that. nate and sophie are low stakes, except, they aren’t, really. they make him feel things he can’t ever really remember feeling. his heart beats fast when sophie sat in his lap and cradled his face, his hands sweat when nate gives him that certain smug look. he’s exasperated by the way they can run circles around him like no one else has ever before. they annoy him and get under his skin in a way no one else can and it’s infuriating. but also not, at the same time. maybe he likes it

and then the long goodbye job happens

hear me out and suspend your belief here for a second, because I can’t remember if crowley supernaturally knows when ppl die/are dead or not.

so nate is in interpol custody and the interviewer is obviously out of her depth. (most people are, when it comes to nathan ford.) he walks in and pours the man a drink, but he’s fuming. somewhere along the way he came to care about the team. hell and suffering is literally in his (official) job description, but he can admit (only to himself) that he admires what they do. it’s not for him, not anything close to where his passions and interests lie, but he respects their drive and purpose. he is also aware enough to acknowledge that they are a family, a group of misfits that never belonged quite anywhere except to each other.

and nate fucking blew it up, ruined it, because his vice is being so obsessed with the end game that he is apparently willing to let his team, his family, the people that anchor him to reality, die because the ends supposedly justify the means.

not this time. not to sterling crowley

he is enraged. he can admit within the confines of his mind that he cares for nate, for sophie, even for the other three (though nate and sophie have somehow made it a hierarchy where they are more important to him. which he will dissect later in private. maybe.)

nate let them die, he let sophie die, and for what? the black book? hell below, crowley would have made things easier somehow, if he knew that this was where nate’s sights had lied. he would have prevented this somehow. he wants to have prevented this. he doesn’t want any of them dead and is too afraid to check and verify because that would make it real. the idea of sophie (or any of them) somehow making it to hell instead of heaven would probably break something in him he might not be able to repare fully.

he yells at nate- he’s angry. hellfire burning in his heart because everything is ruined. the deaths aside (however hard it is to set them aside in his mind), nate will not recover from this, not ever. this will be the start of the end, he is sure. a miserable, guilt-ridden existence where he drinks himself to death and nothing will save him. it plays out in crowley’s mind in a thousand different ways that are beyond painful to conceptualize, even in theory.

the story starts to unravel and there is a game afoot. a solemn, miserable, infuriating game because the con is still in session because parker is alive and in the building- which sets another fire alight in his chest. ‘parker even know you got hardison killed?’ he rages for her grief when she finds out. he knows it will double when she finds out eliot has perished, too, because he isn’t fucking blind.

but nate is a brilliant man, lest he forget too quickly. they are all alive, and somehow still the entire crew slips through his fingers. he’s not even angry (he never would have been- he doesn’t actually try too hard to catch them. it’s about the game, not the consequences). he lets them keep the black book because he’s fucking exhausted and honestly, they more than earned it.

‘now we’re even. tell sophie to drive carefully’. they will never be even, not really. crowley would never admit or agree that being human is the superior state of being, but that have made him feel human in a way he doesn’t actually mind. they keep him on his toes and match him in a way unique to them, they remind him that there are other things than the realm of hell. not necessarily bigger than hell, but maybe just as important in a different sense.

watching the van drive away, something inside him settles. when he walked into the interrogation room that day he thought this was the beginning of the end. it’s not the end at all, not an end to anything. it’s a continuation of their story. maybe, he thinks, a beginning to a new era in it

#before anyone says anything YES I KNOW HOW SPN LORE WORKS I WATCHED IT FOR MANY YEARS #I am just making this silly post for my own (and possibly your) amusement #I’m not digging too heavily into spn plot because I haven’t watched in forever and don’t trust my memory to make accurate commentary lol #also I know it’s probably layed but lied looked better somehow don’t worry about it #sorry this is so long I wasn’t sure where to break it to a read more bc all of it was too important to me 😭💀 #tell me in the comments if you’d prefer a read more and where you think it should go #I haven’t been into spn for years HOW DOES THIS AU HAVE SUCH A CHOKEHOLD OVER ME #eliot spencer #parker #alec hardison #leverage ot3 #parker x hardison x eliot #(background) #nate ford #sophie devereaux #jim sterling #nate x sophie #nate x sophie x sterling #crossovers #leverage x spn #leverage x supernatural #supernatural #crowley spn #crowley supernatural #crowley #leverage #mine #not even queueing this I need it posted immediately. instant gratification #pls like rb comment etc I need the validation #I ended up putting a read more for the long goodbye job

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Nothing pisses me off more than when people talk about my friendships with mid-support needs autistics and other people with differently-wired brains as if I am descending to help them because I’ve taken them on as a charity case. That is NOT true. Oh they’re a burden because they’re neurodivergent? WELL GUESS FUCKING WHAT: SO AM I! THE REASON I HAVE SO MANY FRIENDS WITH SO MUCH SHIT WRONG WITH THEM IS BECAUSE I HAVE A LOT OF SHIT WRONG WITH ME. WE ATTRACT EACH OTHER! WE LIKE EACH OTHER! IT’S NOT THAT FUCKING HARD TO UNDERSTAND!

#How about I just start strangling ableists from now on? #Would THAT convince them I’m actually this person’s real friend? #Literally nothing I say to them is able to get through their dense fucking skulls— #as if it’s sooooo hard for them to believe I actually enjoy their company #Also (halfway unrelated): if I hear “It takes a special person to work with special children” one more time I am going to SCREAM #Tell me I’m calm; tell me I’m patient; tell me I’m creative— do NOT tell me I’m “special” for doing a job I LOVE #Can you imagine telling a quantum physics major “It takes a special person to solve special math problems?” #😂💀 WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. I’m gonna start saying that to people from other professions. To see how they like it. #The children are not a burden to me; the children are very enjoyable to be around #and I enjoy troubleshooting what is preventing them from learning and coming up with workarounds for them #I made a glued roll of paper for a kid who constantly peels their skin because I saw them peeling crayons #It works! #I made math problems into a Skibidi Toilet role playing game for another kid who hides under tables when it’s time to work. It works! #You know why I was able to come up with either of these inventions? Huh? You wanna fucking know? #1.) I peel my lips and mouth and palms of my hands and calluses and cuticles and scabs; and #2.) I have awful executive dysfunction and have to do weird stuff to engage myself #People talk to me like I’m one of the “normal” ones; little do they know I’m getting assessed for ADHD and score 142 on the RAADS-R #and I essentially self-destruct when I get mad so I don’t break valuable items or punch through drywall and oak doors #I give myself bruises that swell a half inch high and form hematomas under the skin #I think I’ve permanently weakened the blood vessels and a vein in my right thigh from beating it so much #because it only takes one well-placed blow on my right; but several blows to my left #And I can see the bruise pooling towards my heart along the path of that vein from day to day after the initial beating #and sometimes it just randomly aches when it’s not injured; so I have to shift my weight when the kids sit in my lap wrong #so with that and something else I did to it not super recently that I should have gone to urgent care for… I probably have nerve damage lol #so it’s gross when people say such things about other NDs to me as if I am above them #Just fuck off already

[pepprs]

my depression is getting really really bad. like it’s been bad before but this is like… consistently really bad. like a long unending stretch for several weeks (and tbh months) now. to the point where no inoculation actually sticks (and im isolating myself from most of my inoculations anyway and feel unable to stop doing it even though i know it’s self destructive). im either helplessly unbearably miserable or numbing out on video games. i just don’t feel like it’s going to get better for me and i KNOW that is factually untrue but the feeling is louder than the knowledge and it’s just utterly immobilizing. ive been sinking in quicksand for 2 years.

#purrs #longer than that too ofc but i think ever since i moved to campus in 2021 and shit started hitting the fan my life just started snowballing #and picked up speed majorly when i moved back home and ive been stuck in this horrible limbo ever since. like im scaring myself with how #deeply profoundly unhappy and unwell i am. i am just detached and scattered and bewildered by everything. and the only way to break free is #to fight it but i don’t even have the strength. like in order to fight it i have to have the strength and it s exactly the thing that is #being stolen from me. and i work really really hard to suppress it when im around people so no one can tell but on the inside im being eaten #alive and every day that goes on the pain gets harder to bear except im numb most of the time so i can’t tell except for when i can #one of the things that makes me saddest is ive pushed everyone away either by ghosting them or scaring them. when what i want and need the #most is love and comfort. but then when i get it it isn’t enough. idk. im not explaining it well i just feel like. horrible. unbearably #i think i need to go on meds like i truly cannot go on like this not even in a s*i cidal way it’s like i just can’t take living like this #delete later #i know im causing the people who love me pain by being unable to accept that they do love me and that’s the worst fucking part. is hurting #people by being like this. scaring people by being like this. and being so disconnected from myself #and feeling completely and utterly beyond help like nothing ive tried has fixed it but also there are a lot of things i haven’t tried but i #feel so terrible or my freedom is limited so i can’t. idk. #also the crushing knowledge / sense that i have lost the most precious important years of my life both bc of the lockdown and bc of mental #illness lol. except that’s not true bc of all the stuff abt how your best years are always ahead of you and you can make them. but it doesnt #feel like it for me and then i beat myself up bc my job is literally to exude that belief and help other ppl feel it and i increasingly cant #i remember in high school having the thought that one day i could be depressed and being conscious that i wasn’t and now i look back on that #and am like… how. and will i ever not be. i don’t think so. it just feels unending

[aro-as-in-straight-as-a]

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don’t mind me im just mad as hell ill be fine in like 10 min :))))))

#if one more MOTHERFUCKER at work wants to tell me how to do MY goddamn job I’m gonna lose it #No I in fact cannot do what you’re asking me to do bc it’s gonna clog up my workstation for 45 minutes during the busiest part of my day #I get paid less than you and work in worse conditions than you doing harder shit. Fuck Off. #‘Hur dur you not doing this thing fast enough is really inconvenient’ do you know what’s also inconvenient? #The fact that none of yall bitches can do the simple task of matching SHAPES AND COLORS #and then blame ME for the fact that you fucking up a kindergarten level task made shit break #and I couldn’t babysit you because I was busy doing the FOURTY FIVE MINUTE LONG TASK that YOU asked me to do #and you don’t even have the decency to come and pick it up when it’s done #all while I’m babysitting a newbie #and me expressing any frustration gets me treated like I’m fucking hysterical and need to be sedated #I don’t hate my job generally but on days like this………..my patience is tested 🔪