#...and then odd mood changes as well

[website-com]

i tend to change and lose my accent very easily on accident

[loumauve]

Cool in the nerdiest way possible, I love that kind of cool people and oh my goodness your dad really does seem awesome with the knitting, programming, music and teaching!

he's got that semi-diagnosed autistic swag

[not-neverland06]

Hey I’m just begging for a fic of Logan with a shy reader that she has a crush on him but thinks he’s never going to fix on her since Jean exists (maybe the reader can make her hair color change depending on the emotion or something

a/n: sorry I haven’t been responding to asks. The new job has officially killed my spirit. But I got to work out finally and do some yoga so hopefully I’ll start feeling more motivated 🤞🤞this one will be shorter

Logan Howlett x X-men!reader (Chameleon)

“Chameleon!” You jump, shoulders flying up to your ears. Almost immediately you can feel the tips of your fingers tingling. Sure enough, when you look down they’re already disappearing. Sighing, you turn around and glare at Scott. 

“What have I told you about scaring me?” 

He grimaces, raising his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I forgot.”

You roll your eyes and turn back toward your project. “Every time,” you mutter bitterly. You’re not an idiot. You know he thinks scaring you is funny. The whole school does. They all like to see you yelp and blend in with the nearest surface, the only thing visible is your stupid hair. 

“You’re, um, turning red.” Scott points to your head and you don’t have to look to know your hair is shifting colors.

You reach over and swat harshly at his arm, “Because you pissed me off! I know you scare me on purpose,” you accuse, jabbing your finger into his chest. He laughs and stumbles away from you. 

“Alright, alright, calm down. I was just messing around a little. Look,” he glances down at the lesson plans before you and sighs. “All this will have to wait. Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You huff and shove the papers into your desk drawer. “Alright, lead the way.” You feel Scott’s eyes still lingering on your hair and glare at him. “Move it, Summers,” you demand. 

You were already in a bad mood, you didn’t need him making it worse. It honestly shouldn’t be such a big deal for you. You get scared by everyone all the time. You used to enjoy it, enjoyed the way it felt like you all had your own joke. But, eventually, it started to feel less like an inside joke and more like you’re the unwitting butt of one. 

Some mutants get amazing powers, like Jean or Charles. Logan’s abilities are incredible, even if he doesn’t believe you when you tell him that. But yours, well, you're better suited as the cheap gimmick of a children’s birthday party than an X-Men. You’re just a walking mood ring that blends in with her environment. 

The only thing you’re good for is reconnaissance missions and embarrassing yourself. You don’t know what Charles sees in you. You’ve never understood why he insists you’re such a good asset to the team. Yes, you are good at spying on people, but you don’t need to when Charles has such strong telepathic abilities. You’re essentially useless in a fight due to a lack of regenerative or strength abilities. 

More often than not you feel like a child playing dress up, chasing after the big kids. You know the others don’t mean anything bad by it when they tease you into going invisible or laugh when your hair changes. It’s all in good fun. But it doesn’t make you feel any less like easy entertainment rather than a teammate. 

It doesn’t help that you’ve got little to no control over your abilities when it comes to Logan. You’ve never had such a horrifically bad crush like this. Anytime he opens his mouth around you, you're fighting off the urge to just go invisible and run away. You feel like you go feral around him. You don’t know how he hasn’t caught onto what the colors of your hair mean when you’re near him. 

It’s constantly switching between some odd mix of red and pink when you talk. Which, you know what it means, but you’re praying no one else does. Red can mean angry, depending on whether you’re talking to Scott or not. You know, though, that with Logan it just means you want to jump his bones and you’re hopelessly in love with him. 

Thankfully, like the others, he associates red with anger. Which isn’t great for you because that just means he thinks every time he opens his mouth you’re pissed off. At yourself, maybe, but at him, never. It just means when he wears those stupid tanktops you want to dig your teeth into his biceps and never let go. 

Scott opens the door to the meeting room and you slide in past him. Charles gives you a brief smile as a greeting. You take the chair at the end of the table, which just happens to be next to Logan - completely coincidental. He gives you a tense smile and you return it stiffly. You tug your hood over your hair, praying he doesn’t notice the red in your strands yet. You don’t want him to think you hate him. You completely prefer that over him knowing how feral you are for him, but it’s not conducive to your slow plan to finally get him to acknowledge you as a sexual partner. 

You swear, if your name isn’t Jean Grey, you might as well just be a shapeless blob of nothing. He glances over at her, that smoldering look in his eyes, and you try not to throw up in your mouth. Scott wraps an arm around Jean’s shoulders and they break their lingering stares. 

Logan glances over at you and catches the glare on your face before you can get rid of it. He huffs and turns towards Charles. With a sigh, you sink back into your chair and focus on not just going invisible. 

“Chameleon,” Charles says your name and your eyes widen. You wonder how much you’ve missed while you’ve been glaring at the back of Jean’s head. “Does that sound alright with you?”

You look around the table for help but they’re all staring expectantly at you. “Sure,” you stumble over the word, racking your brain for any answers. It seems not even your subconscious was paying attention to Charles droning on. “Sounds great.” He gives you a satisfied nod. 

“Good. Off to the jet, all of you.” he rolls out of the room and you wait until he’s out of earshot to kick Logan under the table. 

He glances back at you, smirking. “Don’t know what you agreed to?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Nope,” he gives you a look like he knew you’d say that. You hate how well he can read you when it feels like you’re constantly hitting walls trying to understand him. 

“You’re scoping a place out for us. Making sure it’s safe so we can retrieve some information.” You give him a thankful look and he chuckles. “You need to start paying attention, kid.”

You groan and get up from your chair, brushing past him. “I told you to quit calling me that.” It makes you feel like that’s all he’ll ever see you as, some kid invited onto the team. You want him to see you as someone he could have sex with, hopefully, love one day. 

He glances past you at Jean. She smiles at him and you fight everything inside you to not roll your eyes and gag at them. She’s holding onto Scott and making fuck me eyes at Logan, which he’s happily returning. This is just too disgusting for you. 

You shove past him and ignore how he calls out your name. Your real name. He’s the only one that uses it. For some reason, most people just refer to you by Chameleon. You don’t understand why. They just don’t seem to think of you outside your abilities as a mutant. 

You make it to the jet before the others, taking the private time to change into your X-Men suit. If there’s one useful thing about your ability, it’s that it affects whatever’s touching you. Which means, you don’t have to strip naked to go completely invisible. And if anyone is around you, all you have to do is hold onto them and they’ll blend in too. 

You’re tugging up the zipper of your top as Logan walks in. He gives you an odd look, sitting on the bench in front of you. “Angry about something?” He asks, gaze darting up to your head. 

You drag your fingers over the ends of your hair and sigh. “No,” you tell him bluntly, taking the seat beside him. 

His brows furrow in confusion. “It’s red, though,” he points out, his tone colored in suspicion. 

You laugh a little, “Red doesn’t always mean angry.” It’s the most you’ve ever confided about your hair colors to him. The largest hint you’ve ever given him that you don’t hate him. You’re worried if he knew how you really felt about him, he’d think you were a little creep. 

He slides his arm behind you on the bench, leaning in until you’re practically sharing the same air. You know your eyes are comically large, you don’t even want to know what color your hair is turning right now. “What else does it mean, kid?” He whispers and you don’t even pay attention to the nickname. All you can see and hear right now is him. How close he is, how close your lips are. 

You could lean forward an inch or two and you’d be kissing. “Um,” you swallow harshly around the lump in your throat. You don’t even know what he asked you, all you can think about now is kissing him. 

“Logan!” Ororo’s voice echoes through the jet and you leap away from him, trying to calm your racing heart. Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, giving Storm a tense smile. She glances at you and laughs, “She’s nearly see-through, what are you doing to her?”

You frown and look down at your hands. Sure enough, you’re going translucent. You let out a silent groan, and tuck your knees into your chest. You take a few deep breaths until you’re one solid form again. It’s so embarrassing when that happens, when you lose control over yourself like that. 

But it’s even worse when Logan does it to you. He gives you hope, stupid, hateful hope, for one minute that he might feel something deeper. Only for it to be another joke. You’re a walking mood ring, nothing more than a quick laugh to all of them. 

Jean walks up the ramp, her gaze going to Logan first before drifting towards you. “Are you alright?” She mutters, trying not to let the others hear. Of course, Logan can, with his stupid enhanced abilities. “You’re turning blue,” she points out and you roll your eyes. 

You can feel Logan’s stare burning holes into the side of your head and it only makes you feel worse. You hate being a joke, but you also hate showing them just how much it affects you. You don’t want to seem like a crybaby that can’t handle a little teasing. But you’d thought coming to Charles’ school meant people would stop poking fun at you. It feels like being dragged right back into high school. 

“I’m fine,” you tell her. She doesn’t look like she believes you but she takes a seat anyway. Of course, placing herself right next to Logan, even though her fiancee is a few feet away from her, looking just as hurt as you. They lean into each other and whisper. They’re not even trying to hide it anymore. You let your glare bore into the floor, ignoring how much seeing them together hurts. 

The mission had gone well, Logan had been hoping to go to the bar and grab a drink with you. But the second his back is towards you, you’re running off the jet. Logan calls out your name, trying to catch up. You glance back at him, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. He smiles at you and your eyes widen. You go invisible and Logan glances around, baffled. 

He calls out your name again but the door ahead of him opens and closes quickly. He can only assume you’ve run away again. You always run away from him. You’re always pissed off at him. He doesn’t know what Jean’s talking about when she says you like him. 

Logan’s never met anyone more repulsed by him. 

“Would you just trust me?” Jean tells him lowly, creeping up behind him. 

His face falls and he turns to her, glaring at her knowing smirk. “She just fuckin’ ran away from me. Pretty sure that’s about as good a hint as I’m gonna get, Jean.”

She glances over her shoulder, waving Scott away and looping her arm through Logan’s. “You’re an idiot, Howlett.” He scoffs and she swats at his shoulder. “Trust me, I can read minds, remember?”

Of course, he knows she’s got some pretty decent telepathic abilities. But he didn’t think she would so brazenly breach your boundaries. There’s an unspoken rule that the mind readers of the school don’t delve into your brain without permission. 

She sees the look on his face and sighs. “I didn’t read her mind. She got drunk a little while ago and told me about her raging crush on you,” she laughs a little at your expense and Logan lets out a short chuckle. You can be a pretty sloppy drunk if they let you go too far. He figures it was one of those girl’s nights he wants nothing to do with. You’d probably let the tight reigns you keep on yourself slip for once. 

“She goes red every time she sees me. I don’t know what else that could mean other than she hates me.” Logan isn’t surprised that you’re not taken with him like he is with you. He’s used to the rejection, but it hurts just a bit more coming from you. You’re so welcoming to the others. 

You embrace every new member of the school with open arms. Yet, with him, you get angry whenever you see him. You see through his walls, see the rot lurking underneath them. And, rightfully, want nothing to do with him. He understands your reasoning. 

Most days he barely wants anything to do with himself. He’s made a lot of bad choices in his life, half of which he can’t remember. But he’d hoped, for one minute, that you might give him a second chance. As much as Jean insists otherwise, he can see the truth of how you feel about him every time you run away. 

“Red doesn’t always mean anger,” Jean tells him elusively. It’s the same thing you’d said to him on the jet. It makes his brows furrow in confusion and he glares at her. 

“What else could it mean?” He demands sharply, sick of her teasing him with the possibility you might feel the same way. 

She bites her lip, looking suddenly sheepish. “I can’t say-”

“Jean,” Logan snaps. He stops her from walking any further, keeping her planted in one spot with him. “Tell me,” he’s sick of the games you’re both playing with him. He just wants some straight fucking answers. How hard is that?

She sighs and looks away from him. “I promised her I wouldn’t tell.”

“And I’m sure you promised you also wouldn’t tell me how she feels about me,” he points out. There’s a sharp tone to his voice, it’s rude but he can’t bother feeling guilty about it. 

She can’t meet his eye, a smirk fighting at the corner of her lips. He waits impatiently for her answer, irritation broiling quickly in his gut. He’s about to snap at her again when she finally meets his eyes. 

She speaks through a laugh, like what she’s about to say is so ridiculous she can’t hold it in. “She wants,” she cuts herself off with another laugh and Logan groans in frustration. He begins to walk away from her when she yells, “She wants to fuck you!” At his back. 

His eyes widen in surprise before he turns back to her with a displeased look. “Are you fuckin’ with me?” He demands, narrowing his eyes at her suspiciously. 

She shakes her head and brushes past him. “You didn’t hear it from me,” she warns, tone grave as she leaves the room. 

Logan is left standing in the same spot, stunned at the revelation. He’s not sure how much of that he believes. But he doesn’t understand why Jean would possibly lie to him about this. She gains nothing by setting him up for failure. As much as he doubts the honesty behind her words, he’s got no other choice but to trust them. 

He heads to the most likely place you’re hiding out. Charles has a private library that’s blocked off from the kids. There are too many first editions in there, he can’t risk any of them accidentally blowing them up. You like to head there when you’re trying to avoid people. 

He tries to stay quiet as he walks in, not wanting you to run off again. It’s hard to confront someone who goes invisible whenever she feels like it. He sees light blue hair draped over the back of an armchair. He feels like a creep as he stalks towards you, sneaking and pouncing on you so you can’t run away. 

He can’t imagine how Jean ever thought him approaching you would be a good idea. He whispers your name, trying not to startle you. It doesn’t take a genius to see how much you hate when the others scare you. They might not mean anything bad by it, but they have to be blind not to see how much it pisses you off. 

You still jump, glancing up at him with a surprised look. He looks to your hair for any tells of how you feel. Some pink weaves its way through the stands but it otherwise stays relatively blue. His brows furrow in confusion, he can’t tell if it’s a good or bad sign that there’s no red. 

“How are ya, kid? Ran off pretty quick earlier.” 

“Don’t call me that,” you mutter, giving him a brief glare before staring absently down at the book in your hands. Logan kneels beside your armchair, covering the pages with his hand. You huff, giving him an expectant look. “Yes, Logan?” You demand, tone short.

Logan tilts his head, examining you and your body language. You seem relatively closed off, irritated at him or something else. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been good with words or trying to express how he feels. He’s more comfortable showing how much he cares for those around him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, he lets his hand drift to your wrist and tugs you forward. Your eyes widen as he drags you toward him. The kiss is short, he doesn’t want to push you too much. But it takes everything in him to stop himself from deepening it. All he wants is to pull you into his arms and devour you. 

He holds back, parting from you with a low exhale. Your eyes flutter open and he grins when he sees the bright red your hair has turned. “What,” you sputter and stumble over your words. You shove him back and leap to your feet. “What the hell was that?” You demand, voice higher than he’s ever heard of it. “What was that?” You ask him shrilly, again. 

You almost seem to be stuck in a loop, blinking rapidly and asking the same thing. Logan chuckles and gets to his feet, he gives you a knowing look and you narrow your eyes at him in disbelief. 

“Jean told me.”

Your brows furrow and you shake your head. Realization dawns on your face and you gasp, looking up at him with something like horror on your expression. “No,” you tell him lowly. “She didn’t,” it almost sounds like you’re begging him to tell you otherwise. 

He laughs again and your face falls. You start going clear, he can see the bookshelf through your stomach and he sighs. He grabs your hand, holding onto you before you can run again. You don’t even seem to be aware that you’re slowly disappearing from view. 

“She’s, uh,” he struggles to figure out what to say to make you feel better. “She’s been coaching me,” he admits shamefully. “Trying to help me talk to you.”

You glance up at him but he can barely see your expression. The only thing reassuring him you’re here is his grip on you and your voice. “What? But I thought that-” You cut yourself off quickly and Logan glares down at where he thinks your face is. 

“Thought what?”

You take a long pause and exhale deeply. “I thought,” you mutter, “you liked her.”

“She’s with Scott,” he points out bluntly. He can practically hear you roll your eyes, even if he can’t see it. 

“Yeah, I know. But you guys are always whispering to each other and making googly eyes.”

“Googly eyes?” He interrupts, disgust clear in his tone. 

“I was wrong,” you continue, ignoring him. “I see that now, but I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Logan huffs, he hates that you thought that. He should have just been open with you from the start. He’s faced rejection his whole life, he shouldn’t have been so petrified of it just because it could come from you. If he’d just manned up and told you earlier, it would have saved you both a lot of time and hurt. 

“Kid,” he hopes he’s making eye contact with you and not just staring at some random book. It’s really hard to tell when you go invisible like this. “You’re the only person I care about in here.”

You’re quiet for a long while and he worries you’ve somehow slipped away without him realizing. But, ever so slowly, you start coming back into view. Logan awkwardly averts his eyes from your breasts, he’d been hoping he was making eye contact with you, clearly, he was wrong. 

“You mean that?” You ask, and he hates the trepidation in your voice. He’s never been good with words, he doesn’t know how to tell you how much you mean to him. But he can show you. 

His hand drifts up your arm, wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging you towards him. You trip over your feet, hands landing on his chest to stabilize yourself. He leans down, hovering over your lips for a moment. He waits until your eyes drift shut and your lips purse impatiently before he finally kisses you again. 

He doesn’t hold himself back this time. He pours every racing thought he’s ever had about you, every one of his wanted-to-tell-you-how-he-feels-and-hasn’t moments into the kiss. Your hands slowly curl up into his shirt, wrinkling it and tugging him further into you. 

To his surprise, you deepen the kiss, mouth moving over his like you want to devour him whole. He’s sure if he opened his eyes your hair would be a bright roaring red. He smirks against your lips, happy that, for once, he actually listened to Jean. If it gets him results like this, he might have to do it more often. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡ 

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross  ♡ 

[kxsagi]

hihi how r uuu, uhm i’d like to request aaaaaa like idk a series of odd compliements reader gives the bllk boys they didn’t know they needed like uhm idk “I love the way you floss” or smth like that. i’d also really like nesssss. Please and thank you

“𝐮𝐦… 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭?”

a/n: could not think of a better title idea HELP

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, bachira meguru, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, and karasu tabito

isagi yoichi

you: “you look like the type of guy who separates his m&ms by color and then eats the most powerful-looking ones last.” 

isagi: “... thank you?” 

this man does not know what to do with that information. he’s touched?? confused??? you once told him, “your jawline is the only line i trust.” and he almost cried. 

he gets so flustered and honored every time. he literally started journaling them. 

one day you told him, “you look like if a golden retriever was in a tax evasion scandal.” 

and he was like, “... wait what?” 

itoshi rin

you: “you give off the energy of someone who’d survive a horror movie just by being too emotionally unavailable to die.” 

rin: “what the hell is wrong with you.” 

but deep down, this man thrives off your madness. he will sit in silence for 10 minutes and then mumble: “i would survive a horror movie though.” 

you once told him, “you remind me of the moon. distant, cold, and capable of controlling tides and my mood swings.” 

he was silently smiling for the rest of the day. never admitted it. 

itoshi sae

you: “you look like you’d ghost me for 3 days then show up with a smoothie like nothing happened.” 

sae: “i’ve literally done that before.” 

you: “yeah i know. that’s why it’s a compliment.” 

he thinks you’re deranged. but he also thinks you’re funny. 

you told him he looks like a sexy ikea instruction manual and he actually laughed. 

but then you said he gives off “divorced stepdad with a dark past” energy and he was like “okay that’s enough.” 

nagi seishiro

you: “you remind me of a cat that accidentally became god.” 

nagi: “mm. sounds troublesome.” 

he doesn’t care what you say as long as you’re saying it to him while he’s lying on your lap. 

you called him “a walking paradox of soft boy and threat to societal productivity,” and he sleepily went, “cool.” 

he repeats your compliments to himself when he’s bored. 

“cat god… huh.” 

mikage reo

you: “you have ‘sugar daddy but emotionally available’ energy.” 

reo: “well damn. i– thank you?” 

you’re feeding this man’s ego like it’s on life support. 

he literally changed his phone bio to “emotionally available sugar daddy.” 

you called him “the human version of a platinum credit card with a conscience.” 

he was ready to marry you on the spot. 

bachira meguru

you: “you give off ‘feral art student who eats glitter’ energy.” 

bachira: “omg you get me.” 

he ADORES your compliments. the weirder the better. 

you once told him, “you’re like if van gogh and a raccoon made a baby.” 

he deadass teared up. 

he started complimenting you back in the same fashion. 

“you look like the reincarnation of a chaotic rainbow.” 

you two are an unstoppable force of bizarre love languages. 

kaiser michael

you: “you look like a man who knows he’s the villain but would still win in a romcom.” 

kaiser: “i am the romcom.” 

he is EATING your compliments up. 

you once told him, “you have the aura of someone who would sue god for character defamation.” 

he printed that. framed it. 

you told him, “you give main character energy, but like, the delusional kind.” 

he paused. “wait… what do you mean by delusional?” 

shidou ryusei

you: “you look like you’d propose during a bar fight with blood on your face.” 

shidou: “i totally would actually. baby you get me so well.” 

he’s OBSESSED with your compliments. 

he once made you sit down and repeat the one where you said he “radiates sexy chainsaw energy.” 

he made it his discord status. 

you told him he gives off “if chaos was hot” energy. 

he licked your cheek. you regret everything. 

karasu tabito

you: “you look like a guy who uses sarcasm to hide how much he actually cares. like if a middle finger could love.” 

karasu: “... shut up.” (translation: i’m blushing.) 

you once told him, “you have rizz that’s so potent it’s FDA regulated.” 

he snorted so hard he actually dropped his phone. 

you called him “the reason sarcasm was invented,” and he leaned in like: “say that again, but slower.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[xxladyballadxx]

Healthy Food

⋆.˚ Dante x (Fem) Reader ⋆.˚

Summary : You were irritatingly pissed off by Dante eating the same damn junk food all the time, so you decided to make him eat something else. Something that isn’t junk food.

Note : Nothing really romantic going on here but it depends how you view it, I guess?

|| dividers by @saradika-graphics ||

Dante kept munching on junk food, mostly pizza and strawberry sundaes. He goes mad with them, it’s like they’re the only two things he could ever eat. Never in your damn life have you ever witnessed him eating healthy food. This is the very part that concerns you. 

Bickering with him won’t stop him from having pizza and other junk food. No matter how hard you tried to convince him to have something healthy for once in his life. Dante goes on and says  ‘Oh, come on, it’s not like it’s going to kill me or anything!’

Your impatience with this cocky white haired dude is growing thin, wishing that you could shove down a bloody apple straight to his irritating mouth. The next day, you called out the junk food places to tell them to stop giving pizzas to Dante for a while until he learns how to eat properly. You laughed and snickered on the couch covering up your mouth as Dante tried to place an order for his ‘beloved’ pizza from a place he usually orders from.

Since he can’t have junk food for one reason, you decided to whip up something in the kitchen. Something simple. A tomato basil soup with a fresh roll of bread, along with a chicken caesar salad to stuff his stomach. 

“Dante! Get your ass over and have some food!” You shouted across the room. Hoping that he heard you loud and clear. Dante walked over with a look of annoyance all over his face, he spotted the food you made on the table. He gruffed and rolled his eyes while sitting his ass on the chair staring at the food blankly, “Not the type of food I’m into.” Dante complained, grabbing his spoon. 

“Ha! Well, tough. You’re going to have to eat it anyway.” You joined him at the dining table, stomaching down a spoonful of the tomato basil soup. Dante wasn’t planning to comply with your demand to eat the food you made but he got no choice anyway. 

After dinner, you washed the dishes in the sink. Dante dries them before putting them away, this is odd of him giving you a hand with the dishes. He normally does not clean in his place. The day ended with Dante dozing off on his couch, a basic boring magazine hovering all over his face. You giggled, walking over to pull a blanket up to keep him a little cosy. You left him alone and thought to yourself, “This guy will never change. Silly man.”

a/n - sorry this is boring to read, I was in a little mood to write something.

[kiwriteswords]

For the trope day could we please see maybe celebrity reader and hotch? congrats btw!

Walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya [Aaron Hotchner x Popstar!Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||MainMasterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 2k|| AN: I keep seeing so much queen Sabrina Carpenter stuff around the Hotch fandom these days; she's who I envisioned reader to be like here--but obviously open to interpretation of whatever popstar you would want to be! I lowkey could never picture this happening, but it was fun, nonetheless. This is also likely my last story I'll do for trope tuesday because they take a lot of time, haha. Unless I do a short drabble!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, speculating bau team!, gossip!!, Penelope Garcia is your biggest fan!!!, you're a superstar who sells out stadiums, even rossi knows this!, mysterious!hotch, more of a fun one-shot than anything too fluffy, very team-focused, non-bau!reader

Summary: Hotch has been in a great mood, oddly enough, and when one day, he hands over tickets to Penelope for her favorite singer of all time--you--the team really begins to wonder where Hotch is spending his free time.

The bullpen of the BAU was unusually animated for a Monday morning. Derek leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, watching Reid flip through files at an astonishing rate while Penelope hovered over both their shoulders, her curiosity practically buzzing.

“Seriously, Spence, you didn’t notice anything different about Hotch last week?” Derek asked, his tone teasing but genuinely curious.

Reid, without looking up from his reading, adjusted his glasses. “Well, he did leave on time every day, which is statistically significant for him.”

“Leaving on time? That’s an understatement. The man was practically sprinting out the door at five o’clock. And he smiled--actually smiled--at me yesterday,” Penelope chimed in, her eyes wide with the thrill of the gossip.

Emily, walking in with a cup of coffee in hand, joined the group. “Don’t forget, he also took a personal day last Friday. When’s the last time Hotch took a day off that wasn’t for something work-related?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Exactly! Something’s up. Hotch is seeing someone; it’s got to be.”

Reid finally looked up, curiosity overcoming him. “But who would it be? I mean, we practically live at work. When would he even have the time to meet someone?”

Penelope twirled a strand of her brightly colored hair, thinking. “Oh, my sweet geniuses, that’s the million-dollar question! I could do a little cyber snooping--”

“Penelope, no hacking into Hotch’s personal life,” Emily cut off, her tone half-serious. “But I agree, it’s odd. He’s even been more... what’s the word?”

“Chill?” Derek suggested with a chuckle. “For Hotch standards, anyway.”

The group’s laughter was a mixture of disbelief and genuine amusement, just as Rossi walked up, a knowing smile playing onhis lips. “Talking about our fearless leader’s mysterious new habits?”

Derek nodded, welcoming Rossi into the conversation. “Rossi, you’re the profiler extraordinaire with all the life experience. What’s your read on this?”

Rossi stroked his chin, pretending to ponder deeply. “Well, if I were a betting man--and I occasionally am--I’d say our boy Hotch might just be reminding himself there’s more to life than case files and jet fuel.”

Reid’s brow furrowed in thought. “It’s statistically rare for individuals in high-stress jobs to make sudden changes to their behavioral patterns without a significant emotional or personal catalyst.”

“Exactly,” Penelope squealed, delighted by the support for their theories. “He’s got to be dating someone. This is just like those romance novels where the broody, mysterious man finds love and starts changing his ways.”

JJ laughed, sipping her coffee. “Let’s not get carried away. It could be anything--maybe he’s just taking up a new hobby…or maybe it’s Jack.”

“But a hobby that makes him leave work on time and take days off? That’s not just any hobby; that’s a passion,” Derek countered, his smile suggesting he was thoroughly enjoying the speculation.

The group quieted as Hotch suddenly appeared, his pace steady and his expression unreadable as always. He paused by their cluster, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Morning,” he greeted, a small, almost imperceptible smile on his lips. “I trust we’re all ready to focus on the real mysteries at hand today?”

Caught in their own theories, the team straightened up, mumbling their morning greetings. Hotch’s gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual, giving nothing away.

As he walked off towards his office, Emily whispered to the group, “See? Happier. I’m telling you, there’s definitely something--or someone--new in his life.”

Rossi chuckled, watching Hotch disappear into his office. “Or maybe our esteemed unit chief just decided it’s time to start living a little. Either way, it’s good to see.”

The team nodded in agreement, the mystery of Hotch’s unusual behavior lingering in the air, adding a layer of intrigue to their day. Derek grinned, clapping his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get to work. And maybe, just maybe, we’ll crack the case of the Happy Hotch.”

Laughter echoed softly among them as they dispersed to their desks, the day’s work ahead, but their minds still occasionally drifted to the enigma of Aaron Hotchner’s uncharacteristic lightness.

Days after the team's animated discussion about Hotch's peculiarly cheerful demeanor, Penelope Garcia was in her vibrant lair, surrounded by her kaleidoscope of tech and trinkets.

The sound of a catchy pop song filled the air, and Penelope couldn't help but dance and sing along to the tune, her voice echoing slightly off the walls lined with monitors.

She was in the middle of a particularly enthusiastic chorus when a knock at the door made her jump. Swiveling around in her chair, she saw Hotch standing at the entrance, an amused smile barely touching his lips.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you," Hotch said, his eyes twinkling with a hint of humor.

Penelope chuckled, brushing off her surprise with a flamboyant wave of her hand. "Oh, it's nothing, Sir. Just enjoying some tunes while I work. You know, fuel for the brain!"

Hotch nodded, his gaze drifting momentarily to the colorful post-it notes of affirmations on her screen. "I couldn’t help but overhear. Do you like this artist?" he asked, nodding toward the speaker from where the music still played, though now at a lower volume.

Penelope’s eyes lit up, eager to share her enthusiasm. "Like her? I adore her! She’s all about empowerment and fun, and her beats are just infectious. Plus, her lyrics are, like, super relatable. She's a total queen!" Penelope exclaimed, not missing the opportunity to promote her musical taste.

Hotch's smile grew a bit as he listened to Penelope’s gushing review. "I see," he said, his voice filled with a warm, curious tone that Penelope rarely heard from him. "Thanks, Garcia."

With a final nod and a mysterious smile, he turned and left as quietly as he had arrived, leaving Penelope staring after him, slightly confused but smiling nonetheless.

She shrugged to herself and turned the volume back up, diving back into her work with the music as her soundtrack, her mind briefly wandering to wonder about Hotch’s sudden interest in pop culture.

"Maybe he’s getting a life outside those case files after all--and a decent taste in music..." she murmured to herself, her head bobbing to the beat as she focused back on her screens, the mystery of Aaron Hotchner adding yet another curious, albeit lighter, layer to her day.

The following week brought an air of excitement that seemed to linger around the BAU, particularly around Penelope Garcia's tech-filled lair. The atmosphere was thick with disbelief and joy as Penelope, unable to contain her excitement, recounted a recent encounter with Hotch to JJ and Emily.

"You guys will not believe this!" Penelope beamed, her hands animatedly waving the prized items in the air. "Hotch--our Hotch--just handed me these!" She fluttered a pair of tickets like they were sacred texts.

JJ and Emily leaned in, eyes widening as they caught sight of the tickets. "No way! How did he even get those?" Emily exclaimed, her skepticism matched by her amusement.

Rossi, overhearing the commotion as he walked in, joined the group, a curious smile playing on his lips. "What's all this about?" he inquired, peering over to see what had stirred up such excitement.

Penelope held up the tickets with a theatrical flair. "These, my dear Rossi, are tickets to see none other than--" she paused for dramatic effect, "--the popstar we were just talking about last week! And not just any tickets--Hotch got them for me!"

Rossi's eyebrows shot up, a clear sign of his surprise. "Those tickets? I heard on the news this morning that they were impossible to get. The show sold out in minutes," he commented, adding to the bewildering nature of Hotch’s gift.

Before Penelope could respond, Derek Morgan swooped in, his hand snatching the tickets from her grip to inspect them himself. "Let me see these," he said, his voice a mix of suspicion and awe. Flipping them over, his eyes scanned the details, and a slow whistle escaped him. "Ladies, these aren’t just any tickets. These are front row. Front. Row. Do you realize how good these seats are?"

JJ laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. "This is insane. Hotch pulled some serious strings. Front row to see a popstar like her? That's not just pulling strings; that's a whole concert orchestra at work!"

Penelope snatched the tickets back from Derek, clutching them close to her chest. "I knew Hotch had a secret side to him!" she exclaimed, her previous theories about his recent behavior seeming to find validation. "This is like, the best thing ever. I can't even--"

Emily leaned in, her voice low and playful. "You know what this means, right? You're going to have to get all dolled up, Penelope. Front row means you’ll probably be on camera!"

Penelope’s grin widened at the thought, already planning her outfit in her mind. "Oh, trust me, I will be camera-ready. Our stoic unit chief might just make a fangirl out of me yet!"

Rossi chuckled, shaking his head as he watched the excitement bubble over. "Well, I'll say this," he mused, "it's nice to see Hotch letting his hair down a bit, even if it’s in his own unique way."

“Whoever he’s seeing’s got some serious connections,” Derek shared. 

The group nodded in agreement, the mystery of Hotch's recent behavior adding an unexpected but welcome layer of camaraderie and speculation among the team. As they dispersed back to their tasks, the buzz of excitement remained, the BAU team finding a rare moment of lightness amidst their usual, graver responsibilities.

At the concert, JJ and Penelope stood in the front row, the pulsing lights and thumping beats of the music wrapping around them like a vibrant cloak. You were the popstar that Penelope (and the rest of society) could not get enough of.

Your performance had a cascade of dazzling visuals and soul-stirring vocals that had the crowd roaring with excitement. Each song seemed to resonate perfectly with the audience, a mix of chart-topping hits and beloved classics that had JJ and Penelope singing along, lost in the nostalgia and the thrill of the night.

They felt like they were sixteen all over again.

As the concert progressed, the atmosphere turned electric, each track bringing a new wave of cheers from the audience. You moved with a grace and confidence that commanded attention, your presence on stage both mesmerizing and awe-inspiring. The night was already unforgettable, but it was about to become even more so.

Before launching into the next song, you paused, your gaze sweeping over the crowd with a playful yet intense look.

"This next song," you began, your voice ringing clear over the din, "is a very special one. It’s for the grumpy man who changed my life. He's from here, and guess what? He's here tonight. Supporting me, despite having the most important job out there."

The crowd erupted in cheers, curiosity piqued by your heartfelt introduction. You continued, your eyes twinkling with emotion and mischief, "And because he’s here, supporting me, I want to give a shout-out to someone very special in the audience tonight--Penelope!"

Penelope’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide with shock, and JJ turned to her with an expression that mirrored her disbelief. "How does she know your name?" JJ whispered her voice a mix of excitement and confusion.

Before Penelope could formulate a response, you launched into a flirty, romantic ballad, your voice soaring as beautifully as the lyrics. As yo sang, you glanced toward the VIP section, and with a sly wink and a blown kiss, you acknowledged someone standing there..

Driven by curiosity and an overwhelming sense of wonder, JJ and Penelope followed your gaze. There, among a few shadowed figures in the VIP section, stood none other than Aaron Hotchner. His usually impassive face wore a soft, almost shy smile as he acknowledged the kiss with a slight nod, his eyes locked on the stage.

He was dressed in a black button-up and jeans--a far contrast to his usual attire. He looked relaxed…happy. Maybe not singing along to the words, but he sure knew them. He inspired them. 

The realization hit Penelope like a wave. "Oh my god, JJ, Hotch is her boyfriend? Hotch is the grumpy man who changed her life?" she gasped, her voice a mix of shock and delight.

JJ laughed, shaking her head in amazement. "Looks like we've been underestimating our boss's ability to keep secrets," she said, her eyes twinkling with humor and newfound respect for their unit chief.

As the song ended and you took a graceful bow, the crowd’s applause was deafening. JJ and Penelope clapped and cheered along, their hearts full of joy and their minds buzzing with the night’s revelations.

The concert continued, but for JJ and Penelope, the evening had transformed into something even more magical--a story they would share and reminisce about for years to come, the night their grumpy boss was revealedto be the secret boyfriend of a popstar, right before their very eyes.

[crowborn666-writes]

think it would be cute if the upper moons(and muzan!) caught their love wearing something of theirs when they're sleeping? for comfort. im sure kokushibo's kimono is comfy to wear... he's a big & tall demon man!

(Omfg this is such a cute thing to think about— think I’ll limit it to Muzan and the first 3 upper moons for rn! If I get ideas for 4, 5, and 6 I’ll write those too!) (also first time writing some of these guys, so apologies if they’re a bit ooc!)

(ignore how i completely forgot this ask existed)

Sleeping With A Piece of Them

Upper Moons + Muzan x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Romantic, Slightly suggestive in some parts

~~~~~~

Muzan

Muzan can most often be seen wearing his usual suit when out and about, but at home, he has a selection of clothes that embody the styles of eras from the past 1,000 years or so. Whichever one he wears at home depends on his mood, usually.

He had left you to do some business, and while he was away, you simply got lonely. The demon lord had been pulled thin in his schedule. Due to the meetings between demon or mortal, he could only see you for a few hours or so lately. Certainly not enough time to properly indulge in his favorite person.

So when he finally returned to you, no more meetings getting in the way for a good long while, he paused in the doorway of your extravagant shared bedroom.

All the blankets and pillows you could want, a large, plush bed to lay in, and he finds you have chosen his recliner, the yutaka he had previously worn wrapped around you. It seemed you had been reading, but had fallen asleep waiting for him. The demon king inhales, and then strides forward.

You startle awake at a sudden presence in your bubble, a pale hand setting your book aside before it carefully grasps your chin. He tilts your head up to kiss you, his other hand splayed out next to you and holding his weight as he leaned over you.

“I see someone missed me dearly,” he breathes, sharp teeth catching your bottom lip. “Allow me to fix that.”

Kokushibo

Kokushibo wasn’t one for extravagant outfits or items, as long as they were comfortable and functioned the way they were supposed to. For years, all Kokushibo truly needed was power.

But then you came along, and flipped a part of his world on its head.

You occasionally gifted him with things, things he wouldn’t get really get for himself or think twice about, but they came from you, so they became important to him.

He had gone to train for a while, checking in with you to make sure you wouldn't be left unprepared in his absence. Once satisfied with your condition, he was gone.

Well, physically he was.

You laid on the bed, dozing in the early evening quiet. Kokushibo had left behind one of his favorite kimonos, having changed into one you had gotten him for the day. The scent coming off the kimono invaded your senses, and the oversized material only added to the comfort.

When Kokushibo returned, he moved about quietly, able to hear your deeper breathing and slower heartbeat rooms away. He found his way to you, naturally, all six of his eyes blinking down at you in bed.

Odd. But not surprising.

He told himself he should’ve seen this coming, but alas, here he was. You were fast asleep, curled up on your side with your face tucked into the collar of his kimono.

After a bit of back and forth in his head, he set his sword aside, crawling into bed behind you. He was careful in how he moved you both, not disturbing your slumber as he wrapped himself around you, letting you curl into his chest.

“Sometimes I wonder if I spoil you too much.” He murmured, watching you closely. He was quiet for a few long moments. “No. Actually, I don’t spoil you nearly enough.”

Douma

Look. It was cold, you were lonely, and Douma had been gone for hours doing who knows what.

So of course you stole one of his shirts. Who wouldn’t?

You, you lucky little thing, had the privilege of hiding in Douma’s room whenever you pleased. Whether anxiety driven or simply of boredom, you were almost always welcome in there.

So when Douma couldn’t find you, his room was one of the first places he checked.

“Oh, how adorable!” He cooed upon seeing you, wrapped up in both his shirt and his blankets. “I see someone got lonely.~”

You stirred awake to find he had climbed into bed with you, your head on his chest and his fingers carding through your hair.

“Well, hello, precious dear,” he cooed to you when you lifted your head, “did you miss me that badly?”

At your sleepy nod, Douma couldn’t help but pepper your face in kisses. “Oh, I’m sorry! Let me make it up to you.~”

Akaza

Akaza doesn't really have much in the way of "shareable" clothes. (He'd argue none of his clothes are shareable. They're his, why would he share them?)

But occasionally, on nights where you wanted to go for walks with him, to keep him close for companionship and safety, he would wear a simple patterned yutaka you got for him once.

Course, he had to hide under a decent amount of makeup to blend in with the public, but if it meant seeing you smile, it was worth it. You both would walk the streets of a night market, looking at all the interesting things they had for sale.

He sets the yutaka down at the foot of the bed when you return home, mentioning something about washing off the makeup. You nod and wait for him, knowing he wanted to be back in his usual clothing as soon as possible. It wasn't that the yutaka was uncomfortable, he was simply too used to his usual outfit.

So he can only huff out a laugh when he finds you curled up in bed, having snatched up the piece of clothing and burrowed into his scent.

"What am I gonna do with you?" he hummed as you pulled him into the bed, mumbling something about early morning being soon. "Well, if I comfort you that much, I'll see about leaving you with some of my clothes whenever I have to leave."

[4mrplumi]

( crow choir. entry two) ── ravens hiding in a shoe ( m.s | prev/next )

IMPORTANT author’s note at the end.

note: this entry is entirely re-written. you can read the first, now “non-canon” version here. events there do not apply to the current story.

crashed out on the couch with some abysmally boring show on the tv and the filthy humidity of your apartment is exactly how you expected to spend the week. your phone’s acting all funky while you scroll through a net-tabloid about oliver green with a plastic pen in your mouth, the cracked blue paint on it crumbling onto your lips.

you’ve long since tuned out the annoying buzz from the faulty lights in the corridor, the sound of them breaking through your door like the thieves that take cover at your place often, and you have to set your overheating phone down for a moment before you get up and wipe a hand against your face.

shortly after turning nineteen, you’d moved out with less than a word to anyone, figuring they’d piece together your whereabouts if they really needed to. and you doubt they do, since you’ve been living in genuine, peaceful, boring simplicity for a few months now. as peaceful and boring as it gets in gotham anyway.

you don’t have many friends, have a side job at a corner-store that gets robbed habitually on tuesdays and fridays, and have to shoo away loud kids playing at the front like an old man. it’s absurdly mundane, and you can’t help but calm down from your raucous everyday doings.

you’re finding peace in the silent shadows that you used to fear as a little kid, basking in them to make up for the lack of sun in the city. the more you grow older, the more you change. it’s expected of course, but it must be odd to not have anything really stopping you from ever-continuous change. some kids had parents doting over them turning into teenagers, teasing mood swings and scolding more often. some parents teared up when their kid turned old enough to be called an adult, feeling eighteen years slip through their fingers like sand. you don’t have a mother to wipe your tears or a father who wants to pat you on the back for a job well done.

growing up in the wayne manor is an experience envisioned as boundless privilege, written about in absurd fictions by wealth-worshipping teenagers from other cities, and scorned by the angrier lot of the unfortunate here in gotham. and you suppose it is. it is a privilege, and much different from the life you’d been living before. you guess you’ve payed your due for living so selfishly in that luxury by being ignored all your time there. you know your siblings also pay for that privilege, in more difficult, harsher ways, with fists and feet and rods and ropes.

changing, changing, changing. you think that for now, you’ve stopped changing, thinking back to the numerous times your mentality morphed to your surroundings like an asocial chameleon. when you were very young, freshly twelve and thrown into a house with your real father and a permanent family, you hated them. detested them even. you’d scowl and hiss at any glance from a brother, any dignitary waving at you at a gala and even the greenhouse plants that withered upon your arrival in dismay. you hated your fathers ploys at power and sauntering smiles, the skin with which he shook official hands and the pearly teeth with which he grinned. you hated richard’s comforting nod, and the way tim talked to guests, the way alfred always knew and the way bruce never did.

but you softened. you matured, is that the word? you saw them in a warmer light after hearing a girl squabble and wail at her patient father at the park and thought with a surging need, you wanted that too. so you smoothened out your frayed ends, stitched together competency. it would be hard to raise yourself to your brothers’ level, but you could try. among the chaos of being bruce wayne, being batman, being father and being vigilante, you’d resolved to be a beacon of peace for them.

but what beacon could you have hoped to be, if your light was so dull?

they didn’t ignore you, no. your father’s eyes glazed over you, like the block of your body was an insignificant dot among many others. like you were a clear champagne glass, like the ones served at his galas, to be nursed all throughout the event, but never indulged. you’re lucky others loosen themselves at drinks though, because you’d manage to craft quite a respectable social image among his associates and guests. grayson junior, an old lady draped in large, large pearls, had laughed, a charming little thing with only half his enthusiasm. a washed out, non-temperamental, unfeelingly warm version of your eldest brother. a stain of what he was, and a poor attempt at following his example.

but you twitched smiles through backhanded compliments about your inheritance in the family, the ushering prods at you to speak to your father about a deal (you’d never even dream to) and various vain offences made a speciality by gotham’s elite class. you’d endured all of that with half the mind to sock those prudish grins right off, so that your father would recognise your discipline and nod at you. he never even looked.

and after attempts after attempts after attempts at harbouring their favour, to grasp onto this life and make the best of it, never let go, you destroyed the little smudge of any real anger you ever had. you were reduced to a plain slate, an unused blackboard, a project in the making. you had no end goal, however, no final version. ever-changing.

you began to resent them, once more. miserably sulking over “how could they?”s and then, “how dare they!”s. you took to meaner methods of nagging for their attention. always being at the scene of some altercation at school, having prodded or initiated a fight between people was just a perfect look. you could justify any slight guilt at seeing bleeding lips curved into bruised scowls directed to you by thinking, your friends were much worse! so there’s really nothing wrong. those guys are odd anyway, they had it coming. but even that changes, and you once again erode to nonchalance.

your friends, however, do not change, redirecting their focus from messing around at school to sneaking into bars and clubs with comically fake ids, slipping into petty crime and street-fighting, racking up tickets on their profiles like medals. but you didn’t leave them, no, you were attached. forget rose-tinted glasses, yours were bright, hot, pink, finding a way to justify just about every brawl they stuck up, every man they mugged and every shot they downed while being well under the right age to. but gotham’s an odd place, it’s not too absurd to see a bunch of scrappy fifteen year olds running about with forks and foxes in their hair.

and you stayed this way, morbidly going through long, lonely days of watching your siblings live a life entirely parallel to yours. an ache that carved down from your chest and across the first bones of your ribs became a permanent one, and your throat would sting far too often to be considered normal. you’d kick and scream and fight with anyone you could, breaking into gushing tears the second they looked away. always conflicted and always changing, it messed with you, especially with no one to tell.

your family would be out at night, fighting the very same thugs that your friends are turning to become, all while you languished through the day counting bills and reading licenses off the wallets they pocket. after particularly violent exchanges, you couldn’t even look at the warmth that radiated off of bruce’s hand on damian’s shoulder, dick’s grin at tim or cassandra’s strange card game with duke. you couldn’t want to be a part of them, because you knew that maybe, you never would be.

yes, they have bigger problems. and yes, you blend perfectly into the blur of all the hooded and masked faces of gotham, and yes, you never do any real harm. but you can’t imagine being caught, returning to such unpleasant ways of life despite being given a hand at the one offered to you on a gold-plated platter. guilt and pride fought with their fists in your head, the second beaming at the idea of their surprise and notice if you ever made a mark, and the first ashamed at the thought of it at all. but you couldn’t live this life.

so when it got too heavy, you made the quick decision to leave. you’ve been changing so much, doing so much. moving out of the manor with all the necessary legal requirements was the tamest of them. you made all the proper requirements, choosing to call alfred after you moved out with just the slightest hesitance, worrying that he’d snitch you out in a way that doesn’t seem right. doesn’t justify your decisions.

and it’s after your budding malevolence for the lame-vigilantism stream of gotham’s legality is relocated from the estate’s concrete, and into the plywood of your apartment, can you really feel satisfied with yourself. when you hide a scrambling girl with a gun in her sleeve from the officer that knock on your door a minute later, can you feel satisfied.

admittedly, it is petty to be harbouring the same small-time criminals your family tries to turn over, but who cares? your friends are among the lot, those who couldn’t escape gotham’s gravity and leave, coming through your door with botched noses and empty barrels, and you wouldn’t turn them over. especially not to people who turned you away. there’s an ebb of sadness, a doubt that asks if you could have turned out different, and you squash it with the joy you get at seeing the vexed silhouettes of the caped crusaders perched on terraces from your window.

and with a tremendous stretch and a yawn, you pull yourself and your stiff joints out of thought, going to open the main door after a squealing notification from a regular visitor asking you to open the door. the people behind the door change, but at least they always come back.

-

it was troubling to say the least, when alfred informed bruce of (name)’s relocation. of course, he’d expected at least a little knowledge of it from the kid themselves, but didn’t dwell much on that. according to his accounts and alfred’s motionings, (name) was well and enough the age to own an apartment, own it legally and without trouble, and sludge through the days just fine, since they’d speak regularly with alfred.

he does bristle at your unsaved contact number, noting it from alfred and resolving to call you later. he does however send it to the kids as well, asking them to check in on you incase they haven’t recently. he doesn’t know if they met up with you after you left.

right now, he’s more focused on a little branched out gang that the commissioner, gordon, was troubled with. the week had been relatively quiet, spending patrol through stopping little crimes and such. offering a little assistance wouldn't take up any time, and was a productive way to spend little time too, according to him.

he went through witness files, the crimes all regular, as regular as they get. robberies, violent fights, keying cars (bruce purses his lips at the immaturity) and more. one case however, sticks out. the members of the gang, group even, considering their lower than low presence in the crime world all seemed to disappear right after making turns outside an apartment owned by an elderly estate manager. bruce deduced that it must be their hideout, but couldn’t really risk chasing them in, since the building was well occupied by civilians too and it’d be difficult to figure out their exact residence without prior investigation. not to mention, a little background check assured him that the man running the place was not affiliated with the people gordon was motioning at, other than the fact he presumably (and unknowingly) was housing them.

but what caught his eye was the disappearance of a girl near the same place. a profile by another victim of the gang’s mugging described her as somewhere around twenty years old, or just an exceptionally old looking teenager. according to the poorly kept case files one of GCPD interns, she was not identified among the regulars, and did not leave the building like the rest of them.

the whole thing was very mundane, low-profile, and her disappearance could also be swept away as just a reconsideration of career choices on her behalf. a new member, who decided quickly she didn’t want to be a part of it all. of course, that’s rarely ever the case in gotham, and could very well set a stage for a suspected murder, kidnapping.

first things first, simply a checkout of the place should be enough to confirm any further decisions that he’d tell gordon to carry through. in the meantime, he ought to check in with the league, the asylum, crime alley and nightwing. bruce can be described as paranoid, even if very few people can say it to his face.

he prefers being prepared. if not the strongest or the fastest, he can be the most prepared. maybe, he was prepared for this too.

“(name),” tim sighed, “won’t answer my message.”

bruce had put him to reaching out to his older sibling, over a number he’d spent a few minutes memorising before texting. dick, present at the time, insisted he called, but quit after getting a look.

he leaned over the back of the couch to see, staring into the chat. “let me see,” he prodded, “maybe you’re being too blunt,” tim raised an eyebrow at him, “not everyone can be as persuasive as me, you know”.

tim drake - 21:32

hi

where are you

(name) - 21:43

?

tim

you moved out right

where’s your address?

(name)

why are you asking?

tim

can’t i?

dick cringed at the screen, exasperated as he asked “really? right in the face like that?”. tim just rolled his eyes, frustrated, a little embarrassed. “just scroll.”

tim - 21:45

sorry

where are you

(name) - 21:56

dude

why do you want 2 know.

tim

bruce wants to know

read

(name)??

read

“very suspicious,” dick proclaimed, poking his shoulder, “i can’t imagine why they wouldn’t tell you. so surprising.” tim frowned, taking his phone back and frowning “look, i tried didn’t i? but if they’re not responding, i’ll have to tell bruce,” he ran a hand through his hair, “i don’t think he’d be much less conspicuous about (name) not telling us their address.”

dick nodded. when he first moved to bludhaven, he’d wanted a start as his own man, without the help of the batman or bruce. maybe (name) wanted the same? tim shouldn’t have said bruce wanted to know, he thinks, could’ve played it off as a “i want to visit". he suggests the thought, only be faced with an awkward smile on tim’s face.

“i don’t know if that’d work,” a short reply, “me and (name) never really talked much. it’d be strange to just butt in like that.”

dick hummed, resting his chin on the couch’s head in thought while he spoke “me and (name) have… talked a bit. send me their number, i could ask,” he elbowed tim’s head gently, joking, “one-up you.”

“you don’t have (name)’s number?”

…

“never had the chance to get it.”

your thumb grows numb from pausing at an awkward position on your phone. stuck on the same chat for about six minutes. two new numbers messaging you on the same day, both from your brothers. you’d assumed it was a new phone from one of the girls, but the first was from tim’s saved contact, his personal one. of course, since you’d read the message, you had to respond, sending in an aloof question mark to dismiss him.

when the second one, an unsaved contact, messaged you with a whole lot of exclamation points after a waving emoji, you’d assumed it was a rebooted number of one of your guys. but no, of all people, it was richard grayson, your older brother. you weren’t daft when he sent in a message asking the exact same thing, your address, saying he “wanted to visit”.

did he take you for an idiot? you know it’s bruce who wanted to know, as stated so bluntly by your little brother. even if he did want to visit, you’d go five floors down hell before letting him come over. a thumbs-down reaction and shutting your phone off did what you wanted it to, slamming a figurative door in his face.

but what makes your whole body go numb and buzzing is when your bell rings. it’s out of habit of course, not a lot of people ring the door unless it’s the landlord or a visitor’s family member, with prior notification first. it could be just one of them, if it wasn’t nine in the evening. the only people who clocked in at this time were your friends, and they never rang the bell.

you peek through the keyhole, and your breath stills. it’s then when you back up from the door, cursing as an unnamed objecy clatters to the floor and miraculously, doesn’t break. you can hear the wooden plank of the floor outside tense, and you just know the person outside heard it. you can’t play off a “no one’s home” game this time, and considering who’s behind the door, you don’t assume she’ll leave peacefully.

you have to gather yourself, level your breathing, skim through quick backups depending on whether she’s looking for (name), her sibling, or (name) a crime affiliate. it’s been a minute, and you quell your nervousness, wiping your lips after biting them so hard, to open the door.

cassandra cain looks surprised, and her narrowing eyes make you nervous, even as you lean against the doorway. you pray she doesn’t read through that, giving her the blankest look you can, the same one you give to the neighbours when they come to complain about the noise.

silence. you speak up first.

“cass… andra,” you add, a slight hesitancy when you remember yourself, “hi?”

she tilts her head at you staring up with a look that could be described as innocent, if her lip didn’t unconsciously twitch when you glanced away for a second. gosh, even after having knowledge of her intellect, you’re still messing up. get a hold of yourself.

she drops her arms from where they were crossed, giving you a knowing look. yes, cassandra, i’m here, you want to say after deciphering that glare with a little trouble, holding it back. what’s she here for? you didn’t give anyone even an inkling of your whereabouts. did alfred snitch? but you never told him either. did bruce figure it out? no, you think morosely, you don’t think he’d do all that.

you try to play it off, a hand to your head, staring down with just the slightest feigned frustration, hoping she takes the hint. “look kid,” you say, voice carefully dry, “i’ve got shit to do, you need something?”, with a seconds’ hesitation, a little demeaning comment slipping out of your mouth before you can stop it, habit, “or are you girl scouting for bruce?”

nice. great way to go. not only does she know that you’re purposefully avoiding him but also that you don’t want him to know. your sister is incredibly adamant to being loyal to him, worryingly so, and you know she won’t let it go. you’re no trained mind-reader like her, if you can call it that, but even your heart rate spikes at the subtle tensing in her jaw.

she points at your apartment, careful, slow. and you frown, obviously. no, she can't come in. she drops it, looking away.

silence stretches on before she exhales sharply through her nose, taking a step back. she’s leaving, you understand anxiously. you know she won’t listen to you if you ask, know she won’t answer any of your questions either, but you try anyway.

“going off to tell bruce are you?” she pauses, turning around to face you again. you’re put off, straining the rest of the sentence so it doesn’t sound odd. you want to say, beg, don’t tell him, you want to say, snarl, get out. instead you just draw your shoulders in and return inside, shutting the door. man, you messed up.

bruce is only momentarily distracted by tim and dick’s hushed talking, weary of what they’re up to, before quickly focusing back to the apartment layout he’s handed by the owner of the building, a mister ford, after requesting for it through a burner account. cassandra’s there too, dressed in gear to leave for patrol in a bit, getting a head start before bruce does the same. he’d sent her out to check the place out, maybe set sights on figures she could suspect to be a part of the trouble he was reviewing earlier, time-pass assignments to sludge through the dullness of the evening.

and she comes back with results, circling an east facing room on the third floor on the flat plans. he can’t help but notice a slight moment of hesitance before she does though, turning to bruce with her grimacing full-face cowl, a silent statement. he thinks about asking her, but decides against it. if she’s worried for their safety, thinks them to be innocent, or doesn’t want them caught, she must want it for some reason. he’ll make sure the GCPD knows after sending gordon's intern the file later, in hardcopy via an open window or softcopy through yet another burner account.

but it’s then when he catches a stray hiss from tim, a “just tell him later,” and pulls away from the screen for just a second. “tell me what?” a brief sombre octave to his voice, he knows it’s not wise to leave tim, of all people, hiding something. especially not moments before patrol.

the boy just shrugs, shaking his head, “nothing important,” he lies, “err… bludhaven stuff.” dick blanches, gesturing in a “what the hell?” manner and cassandra inclines her head. bruce sends in the file, before turning around with the slightest frown to his face. if you have something unimportant to say, the unsaid message floats through the room, say it now, before patrol.

before tim can though, dick gets to it first, a hand to his head in perplexed motion; “you know how you told us to check in on (name)?”.

bruce responds plainly, “i asked tim.” dick’s lip turns downwards just a hint as he lets his arm down, “i’m getting to that.”

“(name) didn’t respond to his,” dick jabbed a thumb in tim’s direction, “message, so i tried. won’t answer mine either.”

“so, you don’t know where they are?” bruce finishes for him, a hand yo his chin in thought, “it’s fine, tim, dick, i’ll see to it later. carry on with patrol, and if you have the chance to, look for robin and tell him to return to the cave.”

it’s funny to dick how easily he slips between proper names and aliases, even if the surroundings are occupied only by associates. paranoid, he thinks, uselessly so. cassandra clears her throat, causing everyone to turn to her, glance in her general direction since she's so well hidden.

she points at the screen, the file sent to a contact with the police department’s logo as its profile picture. her voice is soft, but holds a small, uneasy reluctance to it.

“(name) was here.”

oh.

oh?

INTERACTIONS, REBLOGS AND ASKS VV APPRECIATED!!

- woah. re-written entry?? whatever for?? i overestimated myself.. got carried away and derived way off my ideas.

i have plenty things to add and a hollow head full of things to talk about which ill eventually get onto depending on everything. don’t take my characteristics VERY seriously and dont shy away from feedback.

thank you for reading!

# taglist: @cxcilla @strwberryglass @c4xcocoa @yaoizee @secretsandwriting @sirenetheblogger @charlenexoxo1 @mirabilis-polaris @jsprien213 @tfimherewhy @yuyuzi-ling @crazycaoticsimp @m0na-lis4 @trashlanternfish360 @thehammerx4 @ninihrtss @kaitense1

[princessbrunette]

puppy!reader trying to break up with rafe or just distancing herself because she overheard someone saying they couldn’t understand how rafe could be with a pogue and it hurts her feelings and has her overthinking :( (obviously rafe later on gets her to tell him who said that and he deals with it)

꒰ ౨ৎ .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩

he was used to you being all over him. if you weren’t constantly yapping in his ear, you were using him like a climbing frame, subtly rubbing your needy cunt on his leg or trying to stick a body part of his in your mouth. so, the difference in your behaviour all of a sudden was palpable.

you’d been at the country club. not particularly because you liked it there, you knew despite recently joining the kook life people still saw you as less than — but you had to say, the icecream they served was top notch, and you wouldn’t keep yourself away despite being told off plenty of times by rafe for overdoing it on the sugar and then getting hyperactive.

you step away from the counter with your cone, smiling to yourself at the small victory when your ears picks up on a conversation round the corner. you stop in your tracks, realising it’s about you.

“i mean she’s definitely hot, i’ll give him that. in like, a weird way. she’s got the whole ‘fuck me daddy’ thing going on, you know. she’s helpless. rafes gotta be fuckin’ her.” a kook you didn’t even recognise comments, sipping at his beer.

“dont be weird, bro.” another turns his nose up.

“its true! i dont care man, i know rafe — he fuckin’ hates pogues, he wouldn’t be caught dead with one, ‘specially not one as obvious as her. the girls a mess, and mommy and daddy suddenly coming into money ain’t gonna change that about her.”

your heart sinks as you continue to listen to the berating. in the north carolina heat, icecream didn’t stay structurally sound for long — and you’re only dragged out of your eavesdropping session when the dome of strawberry icecream slides straight off its podium, splatting on the floor besides your sandals, leaving you with just the cone in your hand. you stare down at it, barely registering the loss.

you’d overthought it— something rather uncommon of you. when a few hours had passed, and rafe hadn’t had you hurtling through his front door with a ladybug on your finger or something of the sorts, he actually wondered where you might be— so he showed up at your door.

you wasn’t expecting him. he never chased you, always letting you come to him first — but something felt off, and his curiosity got the better of him.

“w—what is this, you not comin’ over to bother me today?” he shakes his head and your brows crease, staring at the eldest cameron in your doorway.

“no…” you reply quietly, even going the extra length to avoid his eyes. you weren’t trying to be obvious about it, but you couldn’t help that you were upset. he stares at you for a moment, unnerved by your unusual mood.

“…well can i come in or what?”

you allow him, purely because despite your mood you didn’t like to be impolite.

“whats up with you? i already told you to stop watchin’ those animal planet documentaries, kid. they upset you, alright i—”

“i wasn’t.” you snap, and he looks over — your tone grabbing his attention from wandering around your living room, seeing you standing in the corner clutching yourself like you didn’t know what to do. you were so used to being all over him that standing by yourself felt odd.

he scratches his cheek awkwardly, eyes flickering over you. “shit, you mad at me or somethin’?”

slowly, you sit down on the couch, tucking your feet beneath you.

“i’m just trying to give you space.”

he huffs a laugh out from his chest, thinking you’re joking — but his smile fades a little when he sees that you’re not. “yeah? you were all over me yesterday, now what — you shy?”

“i’m a pogue.” you raise your voice over his just a tad, bringing your knees to your chest. the statement catches him off guard, and he sways awkwardly on the spot, watching you.

“yeah no shit. so what.” he drawls, and his agreement stings.

“you hate pogues. so… you hate me.” you draw the conclusion and he fights an eyeroll, walking over to where you’re sat briskly.

“listen if i hated you you’d fuckin’ know about it, alright? i don’t hate you. you’re a pain in my ass, but… but nah.” he shakes his head, settling down on the seat next to you and pushing his hair back, not enjoying the idea of being vulnerable. it made him a little uncomfortable. “where… where is this coming from anyways? since when did you give a shit ‘bout all that?”

“since the people at the club were saying stuff.” you mutter, and now he’s really invested. his head snaps towards you, arm freezing in the air from pushing his hair out of his face. he could tolerate the weird moods, but he wouldn’t tolerate people disrespecting you or him.

“huh?”

your lip starts to tremble at the memory, voice growing higher as you speak. “there was a group of boys, and they were saying i was a mess and that im nothing and that you had to be fucking me because that’s the only thing i could offer you and i dropped my icecream and—”

“what?” he turns his whole body towards you as you let out a quiet sob, wide eyes darting between your wet one.

“i dropped my icecream!”

“no— kid, who was saying this shit?” his outrage is somewhat comforting and you sniffle, wiping your snotty nose on the back of your hand.

“i don’t know his name. he had a green shirt on.”

he leans back in his seat for a moment, wiping hands down his face — a little frustrated with your inability to identify the culprits. he pushes his palms into his eyes for a moment, realising it’s not your fault — and you were already upset. sighing out his nose, he looks at you once more, shuffling as close to you as he can.

“quit listenin’ to nobodies at the club, a’ight? you… you think people don’t say shit about me? running their mouth about my private business? they — they do, alright— but what i don’t do is cry about it n’let them think they won. i handle that shit, like i’m gonna handle this.”

you blink at him, hanging onto his every word. you really were adorable, and as much as he’ll never admit it, his heart softens at how sweet you were by nature. you didn’t deserve to be picked on by people that weren’t him.

“how do you know who they are?” you tilt your head, really emulating a puppy and he presses his lips together, shrugging a shoulder and shaking his head.

“uh, you’re gonna point ‘em out next time we go to the club. i’ll… i’ll handle it from there.”

you nod, hating that you’ve caused any kind of conflict at all, eyes drifting towards as you burrow yourself into thoughts of guilt. before you can think too much, rafe grips your jaw — meaning well, but still carrying that boyish roughness. “hey. you’re my girl, alright? i don’t let shit slide.”

he’d never called you his girl before, so instantly — you’re all sniffly smiles, launching at him to clamber onto his lap once more.

꒰ ౨ৎ .ᐟ .ᐣ ᡣ𐭩

[hey-itsdollie]

Hi baddie baddie!

Could I get you to write something where some of the guys (maybe Sae, Kaiser, Isagi, Chigiri, and Ness) are teaching reader to play soccer cause it's a cute date idea aka she begged him and she's lowk bad at it so she ends up kicking the football into his balls.

I giggled while I wrote that

I can just tell you're super pretty from your work 😝

Teach me!

‧₊˚ ┊ In which the bllk boys teach you how to play soccer<3

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » sae. kaiser. isagi. chigiri. ness.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ crackfic/fluff, female reader, use of pet names, established relationship

── .✦ Sae Itoshi

“Alright try again.” Your boyfriend’s stern tone made you groan. After weeks of begging, Sae finally agreed to teach you how to play soccer.

In your mind it was a way to get more connected–to bond. Plus it felt odd that you had close to no knowledge on how to play the sport your boyfriend was a pro in.

But now you’re regretting it, you were sweaty and felt gross, covered in dirt from how many times you’ve tripped or fell.

“Just like the last time, back up and run at the ball, then kick it. Try not to trip this time.” Sae directed standing near the soccer net. Watching your movements intently.

“Okay… back up, run, then kick… easy peasy.” You muttered doing as told. Running at the ball, your foot kicked and you celebrated. This being the second time you had actually decently kicked the ball.

“Sae! Sae! Did you see that I kicked the ball!”

But instead of hearing the ball hit the net or your boyfriend’s praise you heard a groan. Which made your attention go to the male very quickly.

You froze seeing him leaning forward, the ball rolling away from him. Even though you had a clear shot to the large goal post. The ball ended up hitting your beloved boyfriend right in the groin.

“Oh my god, Sae I’m so sorry!” You panicked running over to him.

── .✦ Michael Kaiser

“You miss this one, we’re going home.”

You whine at your boyfriend's claim. Staring at the blonde you stood in front of you. First of all it wasn’t fair, to teach you how to play soccer he told you to try and get past him to score.

Not to mention your boyfriend was literally a pro soccer player. Something you were not.

“This is so unfair Michael!” You groaned as he scoffed, placing a hand on his waist. “Didn’t know my girlfriend was such a whiner.” Which was a lie, he knew you very well.

You took the ball and ran trying to go around him quickly. You were shocked since you had the perfect opening for a shot. Due to your courage you kicked the ball as hard as you could.

Not taking notice that just as you were about to kick your boyfriend got in your way. Him being in your way and you not exactly knowing how to aim properly did not go well together.

In the end you kneeled beside your grumpy boyfriend, rubbing his back as his dick burned. “I’m so sorry Michael… I’ll soothe it for you later…”

Let’s just say he didn’t let you go back on your word…

── .✦ Yoichi Isagi

Who knew soccer was such a dangerous sport? You certainly didn’t. So when you asked your boyfriend to teach you some soccer tricks–more like just how he seems to easily pass the ball to others while running.

That was like the multitasking final boss in your eyes. You couldn’t even aim the ball properly let alone dribble it. So when your boyfriend told you to pass it to him, you were more than ready for something to go wrong.

“Okay just keep your eyes on the ball, then pass to me.” The blackette explained running to his spot a little further away. You took a deep breath and nodded, beginning to run with the ball hitting against your feet.

At the sight of you Isagi ran as well, waiting a few seconds before calling for the ball. As you recalled what he said, you turned and kicked the ball to him.

Quite proud of yourself for actually passing the ball without falling. But the sight of your boyfriend falling onto his knees changed the mood quite quickly.

Turns out when you passed the ball to him, you hit him directly in the balls.

You ran over to him and kneeled next to him. “I’m so sorry Yoichi…” You murmur, frowning as you hear his groans and whimpers. “Uhm… let’s call it a day yeah?”

You nodded leaving him to get up when he feels like he can, while you go and collect your things. Guilt eating you from the inside.

── .✦ Hyoma Chigiri

“Pick up some speed babe!” You listened to Chigiri’s demands, trying to change your running speed as you kicked the ball closer to the net. Your boyfriend was standing guard, but also analyzing your movements to help you.

“Good just like that.” He praised, quite prideful about his teaching skills.

Though he found himself speaking too soon.

As he told you to try and kick the ball into the neck. His defense was put down, not expecting the ball to come flying towards him. He didn’t know how to react at the sight of your speedy ball or that you just did a curve shot.

In the end he was still on the ground holding his crotch. With you running over panicked and repeatedly saying how sorry you were.

“I could’ve sworn I told you the goal was the net… not me…” Chigiri groaned out, his body twitching from the lingering pain.

“Fuck I’m sorry, do you need water? Pain medicine?”

Chigiri shakily waved his hand. “Just some water–feeling a bit nauseous.”

Chigiri watched you jump up and run to your things. Never seeing you move so fast before–though in your mind you thought he was on the verge of dying.

── .✦ Alexis Ness

“I want you to pass me the ball once I run past you okay?” Ness hummed sweetly. You had begged him to teach you how to play soccer, not entirely expecting you to be so bad for a beginner. But he was going to teach you to be the best no matter what.

“What if I hit you?” You question concerned as your boyfriend waved you off laughing softly. “Nonsense, if you hit me it’ll be on my legs–which is good since you’re passing.”

Your boyfriend’s reassurance made you feel better. Taking what he had taught you about running with the ball–and not tripping while at it–you started crossing the field.

Ness in tow as he quickly passed you, doing the hand signal for you to pass to him.

Your kick was hesitant but strong enough to get to him. Maybe it was too strong. “Ah fuck-” Your boyfriend froze his hands going to his crotch as the ball rolled away–completely forgotten.

“I told you I would hit you!” You groaned going to his side, your hand was gently placed on his shoulder as he caught his breath. The pain in his balls making him struggle to stay up right.

“I-I’m fine, just a light hit is all…”

"Alexis, let's go take a break... I really don't believe you..."

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[amazinglyashy]

hello!! can I request fluff reactions of the boys to mc craving something to eat in the middle of the night?

thank youu have a good day 🥰

I'm laughing because you asked this like it would be the most off the cuff situation, when literally every single one of these men canonly have an awful sleep schedule and nighttime habits. Like, there is absolutely nothing weird about this at all except the fact that you're awake when they're awake.

LaDS men when you crave something to eat in the middle of the night -

Zayne -

In all honestly, he was just now getting home from a shift at Akso hospital, so it takes him just a few moments to register why the situation in front of him was abnormal.

He can't help it, he's usually coming home in the early evening, not at three in the morning.

So when he sees you sitting at the counter, snacking on something, he simply sets his stuff down near the door and removes his tie, before coming over to give you a peck on the cheek in greeting.

He's made it halfway to the bathroom, yawning wide and telling himself to get some good sleep tonight- well, technically this morning- wait… morning…? What on earth were you doing up-

He's back in the kitchen in a second, with your eyes flickering back to him in an innocent question, confused as to why he's looking at you so bewildered.

'Why', is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, and when you finally process what he means by that, you can't help but give him a chuckle and a smile, still eating whatever you had gotten from the fridge or cupboard.

"I was hungry."

Not even going to question why you acted on your impulses to eat at three in morning. He'll just sigh, and tell you to make sure you get to bed soon for the sake of your health and mood tomorrow. Gives you one more kiss before heading off to get ready for bed himself.

Sylus -

He's probably just getting up.

So when he starts to rise and notices you lying awake, he's going to be confused, hoping to himself that you didn't have some freakish nightmare, especially not any possibly involving your past experiences with him-

No.

Turns out, you're currently trying to make yourself go back to sleep, despite wanting something warm to eat, but also not wanting to cook.

He's going to find it terribly endearing, letting out a little snicker and making you blush at his reaction, his hand carding through your hair as he leans down over you.

"I think you're forgetting something, kitten. I wake up around this time- meaning, I need to have something for breakfast before working on anything. You do know you can ask the chef to make you something right now, right sweetie?"

He won't say it, but you can tell he's so pleased to be eating with you, even though he knows you'll be heading off to bed right after, it's a nice change of pace for him. He's more than happy to have your company, no matter the odd hour.

Rafayel -

He's finally ready to kick himself into going to bed, but the moment he opens the bedroom door, he runs into you.

At first, he's worried.

Secondly, he's miffed that you got up to come and harrass him into coming to bed again.

Thirdly, he's extra miffed that none of the previous answers are true, but you're actually just hungry.

He's seen the way you snack, he knows you're not just making something up. And he can't exactly let you go back to bed hungry so-

That's how he ended up making a late night dish rather than finally heading to bed.

Any protests to him cooking fell on deaf ears. He's having none of that. He can tell you're still sleepy, and since he hasn't wound down yet, he isn't. So he's more than happy to cook for you.

Definitely wasn't hungry himself, definitely didn't forget to have dinner, no sir-

He'll sit and eat with you, asking if you had any interesting dreams, before making up scenarios that may have occurred involving food monsters and treat fairies.

He's not trying to hear that beautiful sound that is your laugh. Not at all. He's trying even less hard to make the meal last longer, just so that he can spend a little bit more time with you-

Xavier -

He probably saw you on his own way to get a snack, in all honesty.

You two just have to share a look, contemplating the situation, before the both of you begin to grin, realizing what the other is awake doing.

He offers to walk you around the block to the corner shop that's open 24hrs, so that the two of you can get some junk food or spicy microwave noodles to have together.

If you don't want to go anywhere, he'll either go himself or order delivery from somewhere that's open all hours so that you guys don't need to cook. He doesn't want to put out a fire for his attempts this late at night, and you either don't feel like it, or you're not the best at it yourself.

(You're still better than him though.)

Whenever the two of you end up getting your food, you sit together on the couch, legs folded over one another as you tangle together to watch an episode of something you've been binging.

You'll both wake up completely different though- having fallen asleep together on the couch after finishing your food, and ending up snuggled closely, a bundle of warm blankets and pajamas mixed with the relaxing sensation of the other's breathing.

Thank goodness today was the both of your day off...

[coldfanbou]

Tight Fit

Alrighty, here we go with Chowon and Juhyeon. These two ladies try to have a nice lesson, but things get a little hot when Chowon struggles with her wetsuit, and things boil over because of someone else's lust.

Length 3K

Chowon x Juhyeon X M Reader

“Let’s go!” Chowon shouted, grabbing Juhyeon's bottle of water and drinking from it. The taste was odd to her, and she looked at the bottle, wondering what could cause such an odd taste. 

Juhyeon came out of the bathroom a moment later and swiped the bottle from Chowon. “Hey, I forgot to wash that out!” She exclaimed, grabbing the bottle and placing it on their hotel room counter. “I hope she didn’t drink it.” Juhyeon thought to herself. She had mixed water and some aphrodisiacs in there, using it the previous night to get herself in the mood with some of the locals. 

Together, they left their hotel room and headed to the beach. The girls were glad that their company had given them some free time. Chowon and Juhyeon had decided to try surfing. They had seen your picture and talked about how cute you were when they signed up. They had their wetsuits in hand and headed to the changing rooms. Juhyeon got through the process easily enough. Her wetsuit was tight, but it was meant to be.  

“Juhyeon! I need a little help!” Chowon shouted from her changing room. Juhyeon huffed and walked out of her room to head to Chowon’s, the sand getting between her toes as she tossed open the curtain. She chuckled, watching the bustiest member struggle to get her wetsuit on. “Don’t laugh! I really need help here.” 

“It’s pretty funny,” Juhyeon replied, walking into the changing room. It wasn’t much of a room; three walls were laid out on the sand, and there was a curtain at the front, but it did the job, except when Juhyeon kept the curtain open and people could walk by at any time.

“Close it!” Chowon yelled, still trying to pull the zipper over her chest. Juhyeon followed along, getting involved in a long fight with a zipper. The two were struggling with it for over ten minutes.

“Just a little more!” Juhyeon cried, doing her best to zip up her friend’s wetsuit. She held her breath and used all her strength to pull the zipper up and over her breasts, but it was no use. Her strength faded, and the zipper rolled back under Chowon’s chest. Juhyeon breathed heavily, “Oh my god. It just won’t go over. Maybe we should ask the instructor for help.”

“No way,” Chowon replied, her hands crossed over her chest. “I don’t want him to see me like this.” Chowon’s cheeks were flushed, telling another story. It was true they thought you were cute, and the young woman wouldn’t mind if you stared at her, but…

Chowon was losing her point. She shook her head, “No way,” she might like the way you look at her, and your nice body, but allowing herself to be seen was a bit far. At least she thought that, but Chowon’s imagination started to explore the possibilities. Maybe you would have to have your big strong hands on her tits to get the zipper ups, squeezing them and massaging them. Chowon’s cheeks turned a bright red, her hands began to grope her tits, imagining it being you doing it.

Juhyeon could see her friend’s mind turning, her hands squeezing her breasts, and small whispering moans flowing from her lips. With Chowon’s eyes closed as she stayed in her mind, Juhyeon peeked her head out of the changing room and caught your eye, waving you over. 

“Is there a problem?” You ask on your approach.

“My friend is having a little trouble getting her suit on, and we need some help,” You nod. Chowon’s eyes open to meet yours as the curtain swings open, her hands buried in her suit on her large mounds.

“Allow me,” you tell her. This was a common occurrence for you, well-endowed women struggling to get into their suits. You reach in, your hand stretching across her breasts, pushing them together while your other hand moves the zipper up. Your fingers rub against her nipples, drawing a moan from Chowon. You ignore it, forcing the zipper up and over her breasts, ending her struggle with the suit. You flex your hand, stretching it like that, always hurting slightly. “There we go, now you ladies are ready.” You turn and walk out, heading toward the beach. Chowon holds her now covered breasts, her mind replaying the moment. She could almost feel your hands on her breasts again.

Juhyeon couldn’t hold back her laughter. “I bet you want him to help you out of it, too.”

“I-I do not!” Chowon chirped. Now that the thought was in her mind, however, it wouldn’t go away. She imagined herself dragging the zipper along the stopping over the middle of her chest and letting it do the rest of the work. Her tits would bounce as they gained control and forced the zipper back to her stomach. Then you would lower it more and snake your hand into the lower half to play with her needy slit. Chowon’s hand was over her wetsuit’s slit, rubbing her folds. 

Juhyeon shook her head. Chowon could never be honest with herself. She reached back, slapping the younger woman’s ass. Chowon let out a slight moan before turning to her friend. “Let’s go, you’re not going to be getting any if you don’t do anything.”

“I don’t,”

“Quiet,” Juhyeon said, pushing Chowon out of the dressing room. Juhyeon kept her hand on Chowon’s back, pushing her toward you. 

You turn to them after hearing their footsteps come closer. “Are you two ready to get started?”

“Yep!” Juhyeon shouted, grabbing Chowon’s hand and bringing her to the board you had set up. You get them ready, having them lie flat on their boards to practice what they would do in the water. You kneel beside Chowon, giving her advice on how to move and adjusting her positioning, your hand hovering over her ass for a brief second. The mere presence of it has Chowon biting her lips.

When you move over to Juhyeon to help her, you see the older woman staring. You assume it’s her trying to get pointers, but Chowon’s purpose was another reason. She watched as you placed your hands on Juhyeon’s hips, your fingers on her ass as you get her into perfect position. For Juhyeon, it was just help, but to Chowon, it was more. Her lust was beginning to overtake her. Her eyes lingered on Juhyeon’s ass. It wasn’t just you now, Chowon would fuck anyone to get rid of this feeling. 

She loses track of the lesson; it all goes by in a blur. One moment, she’s on the ground practicing her surfing, and the next, she is in the water trying the real thing. It went well enough; she had fallen a few times, but what she remembered about the experience was your body and Juhyeon’s. She had memorized the way Juhyeon’s ass bounced when she went from her stomach to the standing position. When it was all over, Chowon rushed back to the changing rooms, unzipping her suit partway. One hand digging into her nether regions while the other reached for her breasts. 

Feeling a little worried about how quickly she left you, head over to the changing rooms, overhearing her moan your name. Your curiosity was piqued, and hearing her call your name was making you hard. 

You know you shouldn’t, but you peer into the changing room, shifting the curtain slightly, and see Chowon fingering herself. You couldn’t resist, so you opened the curtain, much to her shock. You stare at each other for a moment before Chowon tosses herself at you. She didn’t care what happened now. You kiss her briefly before shifting your attention to her body. 

Outside, Juhyeon had finished changing out of her suit when she came across the two of you fondling each other. She couldn’t help but stay to watch, her hand moving across her slit.

Juhyeon thought for a second that maybe she could join in. She stripped out of her clothes and continued to watch, licking her lips as you got behind Chowon and nipped at her neck.

You reach into Chowon’s suit, grabbing at one of her soft mounds. The young woman moans softly, pressing her back against you. “More,” Chowon says, reaching for your other hand and bringing it into her suit and to her slit. She coos the moment two of your fingers move along her wet folds. 

You tease her, running them along her slit until she starts to whine. Chowon grinds against your hand, wanting you inside her. “Don’t tease me,” she whimpers. You chuckle seeing the young woman be so needy. You push your middle and ring finger inside Chowon. She leans forward when your fingers enter her. As you curl them inside her to rub her walls, she cries out. Even if she had imagined it earlier, the actual thing was so much better. 

While she’s bent over, you reach and pull her bikini top off. The wetsuit and bikini top push her breasts together, making them pop out. You glance over to see Juhyeon. You weren’t going to let her sit back and do nothing. You motioned for her to come closer. She takes hesitant steps, but you meet her halfway, “Open,” you tell her.

You push Chowon forward, pushing her tits into Juhyeon’s mouth. Juhyeon ran her tongue around Chowon’s hard nipple. She teased her older member's nipple, the circle she made with her tongue growing tighter until she was right on top of it. Chowon squirmed, Juhyeon playing with her nipples and you playing with her slit was making her head spin. She might’ve imagined being with you, but having her member here made her body grow hotter. 

You pull away from Chowon’s slit, she whines in response but you continue. Your hands move to the top of her wetsuit, and you work to remove it from her body. With your hand gone from her slit, Juhyeon takes it upon herself to play with Chowon’s cunt. The younger woman pushes her fingers deep into Chowon, moving them quickly. Chowon cries out, unable to do anything as you get her wetsuit off her. Juhyeon stares into Chowon’s eyes, lust overtaking both women. Chowon pulls Juhyeon's head from her chest and kisses her, the older woman’s tongue invading the younger’s mouth. Chowon’s moans flow through the air, rising and falling as she locks lips with Juhyeon again. 

You get the wetsuit to Chowon’s ankles, and you’re now able to participate again. Having to listen and watch as the two women made out had aroused you, gotten you hard. Now was your chance to do something. You pull out your cock, getting it ready for the older of the two. Seeing this, Juhyeon pulled her slick fingers out of Chowon. She forced Chowon to taste herself as you got behind her and pressed your cock against her entrance. Chowon sucks on Juhyeon’s fingers like she would never get the chance to again. “I always knew you were a little bit of a slut,” Juhyeon whispers into Chowon’s ear as the older woman moans. Juhyeon pulls her fingers from Chowon’s mouth and presses her lips to the older woman’s, silencing her as you push your cock into her needy cunt. 

“Mmmm!” Chowon hums, her mind struggling to keep up with the actions as you thrust into her and Juhyeon runs her fingertip across her nipples. She feels the younger woman pinch them, giving them slight twists and pulling on them. Pain mixed with pleasure, and Chowon was losing herself. Your hard and quick thrusts made her heavy breasts bounce. 

Juhyeon broke her kiss with Chowon and smiled at her fellow Lightsum member. “I’ll tell you a secret. I’ve always wanted to play with these nice tits of yours.” Juhyeon took one mound in each hand, squeezing them roughly while she planted kisses on Chowon’s neck. The older woman moaned loudly, her knees knocking together. You hold Chowon up, digging into her wait to support her as you drive yourself deep into her cunt with every thrust. Her walls clamp down on you as she nears her climax. Juhyeon presses her body against Chowon’s, trapping her between the two of you. One hand shifts from the older woman’s chest down to her clit.

“N-noo!” Chowon moans, pleasure overwhelming her. She bites her lips, stifling her moans as she’s being brought to the edge. Her toes curl, digging into the sand. Juhyeon circles Chowon’s clit, before running her finger over it and rubbing it quickly. Chowon shuts her eyes, her body twitches as she cums. The powerful orgasm rocks her, making her squirt for the first time. Her cum splashes onto Juhyeon fingers and legs. Her entire body tires out. If she weren’t trapped between the two of you, she would have fallen. Chowon’s breathing is heavy, her head rests against Juhyeon’s shoulder, and her eyes are struggling to stay open. 

You pull out of Chowon, your cock still hard and ready for more.  You let the older woman rest, placing her against the wall. Chowon immediately falls to her knees, holding onto the walls as she catches her breath. She watches on as Juhyeon grabs your cock.

It was the younger woman’s turn to have a go. She raises her leg and aligns you with her entrance. You hold her leg to your side as you push inside of her. Juhyeon moans softly, turning her gaze onto her Lightsum member. A smirk flashes on her face before her lips form an O, moans flowing from her lips as you bury yourself inside her. Juhyeon rolls her head back, reveling in the pleasure as you begin your thrusts. Her tight walls cling to you, holding you tightly as you move in and out of her. Her small breasts bouncing with every given thrust. 

Chowon stares, her eyes watching as your cock slide in and out of her younger member. She’s mesmerized by the sight and crawls closer. It turns out Chowon was a little more slutty than even Juhyeon had thought. The older woman got behind her and dragged her tongue along her slit as you thrust into Juhyeon. The act makes Juhyeon shiver, Chowon’s tongue moved up and down along her wet slit. The act amplified the pleasure for her. Juhyeon wrapped her arms around your neck for support, her moans coming more often as Chowon shifted her focus again. 

The older woman grabbed Juhyeon’s ass, she had watched it all day during the lesson. Now was her chance to act on her lustful desires. She spread Juhyeon’s cheeks apart and ran her tongue across the brown puckered hole. Juhyeon shivered again; it was the first time her ass had gotten this kind of attention.

She was helpless to do anything. Juhyeon’s moans turned to whines as Chowon circled her asshole. The pleasure you were giving her at the same time was training her to enjoy it. The moment Chowon slipped her tongue inside Juhyeon’s, her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Her hips bucked forward, forcing Chowon to move forward and do it again. 

The older woman gripped Juhyeon’s cheeks tightly, moaning softly as she lapped at Juhyeon’s tight asshole. Juhyeon felt a tightness in her core; She whimpered as she was being brought to her climax. Her legs began to shake. Your thrusts quickened, and in the next moment, Juhyeon came. She cried out in pleasure, waves of it washing over her as her body relaxed and let it all out. Burying yourself in her, you notice the hungry Chowon continuing to eat her ass. It made Juhyeon tremble, her orgasm subsiding slowly while she felt Chowon’s tongue against her. 

Your cock began to throb, watching it. It was always exciting to watch two women play together. You pull out of Juhyeon and let her down slowly, giving Chowon enough time to back away. She pulls Juhyeon into an embracing, kissing the younger woman and giving her a taste of her own ass. Juhyeon didn’t resist, letting it happen. “A little help here? I still haven’t cum.” You tell the women. Juhyeon moves toward you first, wrapping her lips around your throbbing shaft and bobbing her head a few times before passing it off to Chowon. The older woman kissed the tip before bobbing her head. She used the tongue, slowly swirling it around your shaft before moving back.

Chowon wanted to pass it back to Juhyeon, but the younger woman refused. Instead, they shared it, Juhyeon working the left side while Chowon worked the right. Their lips glided along your shaft, both women feeling your cock throb as you neared your climax. They knew you were close and backed off. They reached for your cock, working together to stroke it; Juhyeon’s palm rubbed against the tip, coating it in precum. Chowon had her hand on your shaft, moving it quickly. The women pressed their faces together, “Cum on us,” Chowon chirped, opening her mouth and sticking her tongue out. You let out a loud grunt as you came, your semen spurting onto the kneeling women’s faces. They giggled as the warm sticky cum landed on their faces. 

Chowon milked you, her hand stroking your cock to ensure every drop was out.  Once you were out, she let go. She turned to the younger woman, staring at her glistening features. 

They had the same idea, closing in on each other, they shut their eyes and kissed, swapping your cum. You cock twitched as you watch, it was bringing you back to life. Juhyeon glances at you and giggles. “Maybe we should head to our hotel room and keep going there. This big guy looks like he wants some more.”

“Yeah, let’s keep this going,” Chowon replied, standing up slowly and helping Juhyeon to her feet. You got in between the ladies and aided them to their room, cum still staining their faces as they walked past guests to continue their fun times.

[risuola]

ENTRY #8 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU // You said you love me, I heard it between the lines.

contents: arranged marriage!au, it gets a little steamy, reader discretion is advised — wc. 2556

a/n: longer part, little steam, some more confused fools in love, what else can we want ♡ i kinda enjoy writing the story a little more from satoru's pov, i hope you don't mind! also, the wedding picture that my friend draw for me is here for anyone interested!

series masterlist

You love him.

Well, technically, you didn’t say you love him. You were tidying just next to him, wiping the dust off the shelves and he was on the couch, doing paperwork that might’ve been — and most likely were — partially responsible for his poor mood. He hated paperwork and ironically, Yaga loved giving him a fair share of it — it was fair, he knew that. His missions, his forms to fill but couldn’t Ijichi take care of it–

“We should retake that picture one day,” he heard you muse and he didn’t need to look up to know what picture you had in mind. You had, after all, just one picture together and it was taken forcefully as a proof of your marriage, right after the ceremony. He was in a suit, black and crisp, looking good as always with his glasses — that he didn’t bother taking off for the photo — resting on the bridge of his nose, low enough to show a little bit of his eyes and high enough to hide the lack of amusement he felt that day. You were in front of him, partially exposing your bare back to the camera and holding a bouquet of flowers that someone got you — not him, that’s for sure. As he thought of it, you were looking stunning. Breathtaking, to say the least, in the long white dress, not too plain but definitely not overly embellished. You didn’t need to be dressed in layers of princess-worthy fabrics to look like one. The picture though — it lacked emotion. You were there with him and he was there with you, but you weren’t together on it. You were just both in the frame.

“Why would we?” He asked dryly, growing more and more irritated by the bureaucracy at hand. He was stuck on one of the points, the one he disliked the most because it required him to elaborate on something that didn’t need to be elaborated on. Why would he describe the curses he saw, evaluate their strengths and consider their techniques, when he turned them to dust before they even realized he was there?

“It would be nice to have a wedding picture with some actual love in it, not just a dry, forced pose and stone faces,” you reasoned and your voice was light, it was innocent almost as if you were speaking of something so obviously natural. As if you were not considering exchanging the picture-proof of your arranged marriage into one of real marriage.

“We’re not married for love, do I need to remind you?” Satoru scoffed. He was annoyed. At you, because you were able to make his heart beat in ways he never knew are possible and at himself — for letting that happen. Or for saying what he just said because of course you knew the marriage wasn’t based on love and it didn’t change the fact you just allowed your mouth to slip away words that shouldn’t be slipped. He was annoyed because you shouldn’t feel that way, because he wasn’t ready to hear it, because he’s a coward.

But, instead of getting annoyed, he heard you chuckling. It was an odd point in your marriage. You were closer, the closest you’ve been until now, but the feelings that were undeniably blooming underneath the surface had to force their way through the layer of sarcasm he and you spread out thickly over the course of past weeks. You were still foreign to affection but curiously exploring the topic with each other and Satoru was suffering severe heart palpitations because of it. You seemed to enjoy it though — your smiles and very purposeful touches were enough of a proof of it.

Satoru sometimes wished he could fluster you just as you fluster him and he would give the world to see your face tinted with deep, red blush because of him. He will see you like this one day, but for now, you were still learning to express civil behaviors in the confines of your shared house. You called it a success that fights were much rarer now than at the beginning; perhaps you grew accustomed to the amount of snarkiness and irony or maybe it mellowed down. Maybe the fact that you were spending more and more time together, now working at school side by side, had something to do with the much warmer relation shyly building itself up between you, or maybe it’s because of the long, late night talks you share every night when he’s laying in bed with you.

“Oh, you really should shut up sometimes,” you said and he felt you approaching.

“I should, huh?” He rolled his eyes and smirked, eager to put down the papers and pay his attention to you. His eyes, that first landed on your legs, moved up following the shape of your body until he met your gaze. “And who are you to order me such things?”

“Your wife, Satoru, we’re married, as you probably noticed,” you snapped back, but something in the tone of your voice told him, you’re not as bothered as the bite of your words suggested.

“Married,” he said, humming. His smirk faltered just slightly and for a second, he was silenced by your presence. He couldn’t bring himself to fight against it. “And hating every second of it.” But he’d still reached forward to take your hand.

This time, it's you who rolled eyes but you allowed your fingers to intertwine with his. You sat down next to him, dropping your weight onto the soft, bouncy cushions and positioning yourself in a way to be able to face him. The top of your knee met the side of his thigh and Gojo put the pile of formalities to the side. “You are annoying, you know that, right?”

“I’ve been told,” Satoru said, his mouth twitching into a small smile. “Several times. By you, actually.” He chuckled and shifted a little on the couch. His free arm was rested along the backrest and he leaned his head back, giving you a sideways look. “But I know I am,” he teased with a smirk now fully bloomed on his features. “I’m glad you’re at least acknowledging it.”

“Kinda hard to miss when it’s written all over your face,” you teased him back and he laughed, running his thumb along the side of your hand. Then, he was rubbing small circles onto your skin, grazing over the delicate spots of your wrist.

“Oh? You’ve been paying more attention to me than I thought.”

“You really need to shut up,” you sighed, exhaling slowly in feigned annoyance, but you were clearly amused by his antics and he was growing amused too. Gojo was testing you, seeing how far you were willing to push him. He had every intention of testing your boundaries, pushing your buttons. He was curious, excited even, to see where it could go. You were incredible, Satoru thought, because weeks before he was sure he was going to break you, get you to back off, but you just kept coming at him. He wasn’t complaining.

“But I don’t want to,” he said, his tone teasing as he leaned towards you, bringing his face inches from yours. Your eyes met and the air got a little thicker, a little more warm. “What are you gonna do about it?” His voice was quiet, murmur-like, challenging. He didn’t let go of your wrist or stop the soft circles of his thumb.

“Easy,” you scoffed, but a smile tugged on the corners of your mouth when you leaned in as well. Your head tilted and then, your lips were just breath away from his own. “I’ll shut you myself,” you whispered, right against his face.

Satoru nearly lost it when he felt your breath on his lips. His heart seemed to skip a beat, this wasn’t how he thought this conversation would go, but he wasn’t exactly complaining. He wasn’t supposed to get jealous, to want you, to need you, but now that you were this close, there was no way he was going to let it end here.

He leaned a little closer as well, closing the distance just a bit more. He was practically asking for your lips to meet and the way your voice teased him when you whispered– oh, the man was getting weak. For the first time, he was speechless. His eyes drifted shut, the feel of your lips so close being enough to set him on fire. The silence hung in the air for only a moment before he pulled you to him, his mouth crashing into yours. He wanted to feel you against him as much as he could. One of his hands went to the back of your head and he began to pull you even tighter.

And you purred. Climbing on top of him, straddling his lap and the moment your legs gripped onto his, every thought was lost, every desire was awakened. One of his arms naturally shifted to pull you against his body and the other was in your hair, tangled within the strands. He felt the heat of you on his chest, he felt you on top of him and in his mind, there was no place he wanted you more. Satoru couldn't get enough of you, of being close.

His back was against the couch, he was kissing you roughly, almost desperately as if there was no air on the planet anymore and you were the only saving grace. He had waited so long to do this, wished for it. Every morning he spent looking at your calm, sleeping face he wondered what would you do if he made a move, if he kissed you softly, if he woke you up with his touch.

And now that it was happening.

He didn’t want to waste a single second. Your hands run over his shoulders and brushed through his hair, pulling and tugging them ever so slightly and he shivered from how close to the edge it brought him. Your touch was electric, sending tendrils of pleasure right through his system, filling his veins with something warm and unknown, making him lose himself into the feeling.

Your tongues met, exploring each other and he was focused on the taste of your lips, the sharpness of your teeth closing teasingly on his lower lip from time to time, the sound of your breathing and how soft and smooth your skin was against his own. Your nose was brushing against his every time you shifted your head and each movement made him want more. He felt like he could spend the rest of his life kissing you.

Satoru’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer and he leaned forward, pressing himself against you. He had a good bit more muscle than you and he wasn’t afraid to use it if it meant pulling you even closer, leaving no space between. Your body fit with his, the two of you like puzzle pieces fitting together in the perfect spot.

His hands were moving, following the shapes of you, learning them as his fingers were brushing your sides, his thumb sliding along your back. He gripped your waist a little harder and then, his mouth fell to your neck. You whimpered and a small groan escaped his lips as he kissed you there, his lips and tongue making their way to the soft, delicate skin behind your ear and you gasped on air when his teeth grazed the shell of your lobe.

Your fingers tightened on the muscles of his shoulders, searching for a way to ground yourself and you struggled to stay present, when he made it so easy to get lost.

A smile tugged on Gojo’s lips, he felt how hot your cheek was against the side of his head when he peppered tender kisses along the side of your neck. Then, he pulled away from you for a moment, breathing heavily. His eyes flickered over your face, taking in the sight of you before they dropped to your mouth once more. You were so pretty like this, panting and with your lips parted and swollen, red and glistening with saliva. You were so gorgeous with blush spilled over your complexion, with your half-lidded eyes and your arms around him.

His hands were still on your waist, and his lips found yours again — just as hungry and desperate as it was before.

“God,” he breathed, between one kiss and another. His voice was rough and gruff, carried by the heavy breaths and want. “I can’t believe I’m married to you,” he said, his tone full of awe. “Positive.”

He felt your lips curve upwards and your body squirm against him, and that was enough to make him almost lose control over himself. His hand moved from your waist to the hem of your shirt, moving it just enough to get access to the skin beneath it. He kept kissing you and his fingers were shifting from the hem back to your waist, then back again. You were so soft, and his entire body was filled with the urge to explore it. To taste it. To learn it.

He leaned back just slightly, breaking the kiss and you let out a soft sigh. Your cheek was now pressed against his shoulder, your face exposed. He rested his head against yours, his eyes fluttered shut and all he could hear was a mixture of breaths and his own heart.

“We should stop,” he whispered, sighing and you hummed, nuzzling your nose into his neck, kissing him there.

And like that, Satoru melted.

His body relaxed against yours once more. The breath he took was long and shaky, the sensation of your lips on his neck making his brain short circuit. Any thought he’d had of actually stopping threatened to fell to the wayside.

“We should really stop,” he repeated, louder this time, but he wasn’t making any attempts to move you off his lap. His hands gripped you a little more instead. “You’re gonna make me lose control.”

“Isn’t that a tempting thought,” you teased, the softest mischief lining your tone and you gave the side of his neck a little kitten-lick. Satoru groaned when your tongue touched his neck. His hold tightened on you, his fingers digging into your waist.

“Oh god, don’t do that,” he whispered, sounding desperate. His arm came up to brush your hair out of your face and he leaned his head to the side, giving you better access to his neck, despite all of his instincts telling him to not do that.

“Don’t do what?” Your voice rumbled against his flesh, the sensitive area leading from his ear to his shoulder vulnerable and exposed to your whims.

"That."

"That?"

Gojo jolted the moment your teeth sunk into his skin, just barely hard enough to leave a mark and it made him lose it. With a deep groan, his head shot upwards. The hand that had been running through your hair now gripped your hip, and in an instant, he had you flipped so you were flat on your back, him on top and the papers he’s got from Yaga long forgotten and spread all over the floor.

He’ll worry about them later.

Now: you.

taglist: @kinny-away @anan-baban @lotomber @netflix-imagines @kawliflo @nishloves @ghostfacefricker6969 @thejujvtsupost @yozora7154 @cherrycolabarbedwirebedpost @stuckinmoilalaland @ae-mius @ropickle @chokesonspit @lansy-4 @mo0sin @just-pure-trash @foliea @bakarinnie

[conclover]

Mr. Tenna x GN! Reader | Static Hearts Part 3

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Summary: It’s time for another one of Tenna’s entertaining shows! (keeping it short to avoid spoilers!)

Warnings: Evil sexy Tenna (is this a spoiler?). I’m really trying to take the slow burn approach, but the influence of pornification has taken its toll on me. I can’t seem to help but make these chapters feel more sexual than intended. So... 18+

Notes: I can’t decide if I want him to be completely unhinged or a sweet cutie patootie, so I think I’ll stick with this mood swinging version of him. Honestly, I think it suits him pretty well.

Word count: Almost 4K

Blending in was an impossible task. After all, you were the only one here who even remotely resembled a human. Every strange creature turned its gaze as you passed, their stares making you feel even more exposed than when you were under the gleaming lights of Tenna’s show.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called from behind. “I was supposed to be keeping an eye on you.”

You turned to see who it was and it was none other than that sunshiny man, his glow still nearly blinding as before. But this time, something was different. He seemed dimmer somehow, as if the light he carried was weighed down by sadness.

“I’m sorry. Please, don’t tell my boss…” He clasped his hands in a feeble attempt at an apology, but his eyes were elsewhere, clouded with worry. It was clear his job was the least of his concerns.

“I wasn’t planning to and don’t worry, I can handle myself just fine.”

“Ha, ha, ha!” he laughed, though it was hard to tell if it was genuine. “Maybe I should try some of that independence too! Yes, I don’t need her!”

“Are we talking about Elnina?”

His smile faltered, and in an instant, he was sobbing like a child.

“Don’t mind me,” he choked out between deep sobs. “I’m just going to cry for a little while.”

“Are you... do you need anything?” You glanced around, scratching your neck awkwardly, unsure of how to handle the situation.

“Do you?” he asked, his voice surprisingly sincere. “My boss said I should assist you.”

“Well then,” you said, quickly thinking of a way to get rid of him. “I need you to be well rested. So, I suppose that’s my first request. Go have some fun, or get some sleep. Whatever you prefer.”

“Really?” He seemed a little less sad after hearing you. “Maybe we could go somewhere? Grab a drink... talk.. maybe hug… and cry.”

“I was actually thinking about getting some fresh air,” you replied, taking a step back. “But I appreciate the offer.”

“I understand, I’m sorry... I’m just a little desperate. I’ve never really known how to be alone, and Elnina just left me and—” His voice caught and he broke down, sobbing once again.

As if it were your responsibility, you pulled him into a hug. It took a long time for him to calm down. All you could do was stand there, feeling the weight of this place grow heavier and more real with each passing moment.

Is this really a dream?

You gently patted his back, but just as you did, a cough echoed from somewhere nearby.

You half expected it to be his girlfriend (now ex) Elnina, and braced yourself for one of those dramatic telenovela moments you secretly loved. But instead, it was Tenna, and his smile seemed a bit... off.

You were surprised to see him there, out of the program, but the paper cup of water in his hand hinted he was on a break.

Tenna’s TV head darted between the two of you, that odd smile tightening at the corners of the screen. You could practically feel the jealousy radiating off him. It was ridiculous, considering the two of you hadn’t even had your first date. Still, the way he looked at you, it was as if he had caught you cheating.

You stopped patting Lanino’s back, suddenly self conscious under Tenna’s presence. Lanino noticed the change immediately. He turned, saw his boss standing there, and quickly took a step back, wiping his face with the sleeve of his blue coat.

“Boss,” Lanino said awkwardly, still avoiding looking at Tenna. “I’m afraid the weather broadcast has to be suspended. Lanina and I... we broke up.”

Tenna barely registered the words. The weather broadcast? He couldn’t care less. He could handle that himself. More screen time for him, anyway. No, what stuck in his mind was the image of you and Lanino hugging. Too close. Waaaaaaay too close.

“It’s not like people just decide break up,” Tenna said flatly, not bothering to soften his tone. “There’s always someone who starts it. Someone to blame.”

Lanino glanced at you, then back at his boss, visibly trying not to cry again. Your jaw tightened as you shot Tenna a sharp glare. Showing a little respect to his employees wouldn’t kill him.

“Maybe,” you said firmly, clearly willing to defend Lanino. “But it takes two to tango, so don’t just dump it all on one person.”

The air thickened between the three of you, charged and uncomfortable. You could see the tension in Tenna’s posture. His shoulders were rigid, fists clenched tightly behind his back like he was barely holding himself together by force alone. His form was changing, expanding steadily until he loomed over the two of you, larger and more imposing with every shaky breath that escaped his mouth.

“Ah, yes... it takes two to tango,” he echoed, his tone dry and tight with sarcasm. “But it only takes one to shred the life aspirations you built together!”

Lanino flinched, and you felt the heat of Tenna’s attention return to you, almost suffocating now. His smile stretched just a bit too wide, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a pair of sharp fangs.

“Well, if one of them was forced into a life they never asked for...” you shot back, “...what exactly were you expecting?”

“It’s not their fault if they can’t keep their promises!” Tenna snapped, his antennae twitching with rage as he crushed the paper cup in one hand, water spilling between his fingers.

Somehow, the argument had veered into something deeper, more personal. The words coming out of your mouths barely matched the topic of Lanino and Elnina anymore. It felt like you were both defending yourselves against people you didn’t want to put a name on. Maybe even ghosts from your past.

“Hey,” Lanino said softly, his voice small and uncertain. He fiddled with his fingers, eyes flickering nervously between the two of you. “I think I’m just going to go apologize to Elnina.”

Before you could say anything to Lanino, he was already gone, leaving you and Tenna alone in the awkwardness of the moment.

Tenna took a slow, deliberate breath, pressing his hands together in something like a prayer. He was trying to calm himself and to his credit, it seemed to be working. His form shifted subtly, shrinking just enough to make him seem a little less monstrous.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said calmly, still refusing to meet your eyes. “I got carried away.”

The apology wasn’t especially heartfelt, but something about his softened tone and the fact that the fangs were no longer visible told you it was smart to stay on his good side, at least for now. If you wanted to escape this place, Tenna wasn’t someone you could afford to make an enemy of.

“I could say the same,” you replied, taking a cautious step closer. His form felt a lot less threatening now. “I just want to forget all of this… and enjoy our date.”

“I wish we could just go now, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and tired as he gently took your hand. You could still feel the dampness from the cup he had crushed. “But I have to finish the program.”

“I’ll wait for you then,” you said with a gentle smile, taking his hand in both of yours.

“Ah-ah!” He raised a finger, wagging it with a sly smirk. “It wasn’t such a great idea to leave you alone, was it?”

His smile faltered, the mockery fading to reveal the frustration simmering beneath his playful exterior.

“You’re coming with me.”

He tightened his grip on your hand, dragging you down the hallway with an urgency that was almost too forceful. Anger radiated off him with every step, each movement charged with barely contained agitation. Before you could find the words to calm him, you were already behind the curtains, waiting for the next part of the program.

“We’re starting in a minute. It isn’t any more difficult than what you’ve seen. So just stay calm. You can do this.” He said it all with a rush, his words lacking the enthusiasm they had when you first met.

What was the program about?

Fuck. If only you had stayed in his studio.

You flashed a smile, hoping it looked convincing, and prayed he wouldn’t ask you anything too specific. You’d have to play along, trusting you could improvise your way through whatever he had planned.

“Remember what I said at the beginning of the program?” His voice was sharp, laced with tension. “I’d like you to say it with me at the same time.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, his tone making it clear he expected you to know exactly what he meant and that you should already be prepared.

You simply nodded, trying to hide the fact that you had no idea what he was talking about.

“So, 3... 2... 1...” he counted, his smile almost too enthusiastic to be believable. “It’s TV time—”

“It’s TV time!” you blurted out quickly, forcing your voice to match his energy. 

But he wasn’t a fool. The moment the words left your mouth, his smile twisted knowingly. In this mood, he could detect lies better than any polygraph ever could.

“You haven’t watched the program, have you?” His voice faltered as he turned his back to you, a flash of disappointment crossing his face.

For a brief moment, his form seemed to shrink, as if the weight of the moment had deflated him. He looked defeated, like his favorite contestant had just let him down.

“Does no one watch TV anymore?!” he cried, the anger in his voice barely masking his pain. 

Tenna moved without a word, his footsteps almost too quiet. He opened a nearby closet and pulled out a spotless apron, the kind meant more for a show than for everyday life. Stepping behind you, he slipped it over your head with more exasperation in his movements than necessary.

Then his hands found the straps at your back. He pulled them tight into a ribbon until the fabric hugged your waist snugly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of his anger.

“Do we say it’s TV time as soon as we walk on stage, or… wait a little?” you asked, uncertain, stepping closer to Tenna, who was rummaging through the closet for another apron.

“Forget about that,” he said, turning to you with a serious look, an apron dangling from one hand. “Just try to play along.”

He quickly tied on a leather apron for himself, then glanced at you with something like disappointment before disappearing behind the curtain.

What is wrong with this man?

You’d realized, perhaps too soon, that beneath the confident stage persona was a deeply insecure man, unsettled by the mere thought of not being the center of attention. And even though you hated the thought of being anything but sincere, you knew you’d have to turn the right dials to get out of here. You had seen it earlier, how he melted under your compliments like a starved dog, desperate for affection.

So this is how things are going to be like? Fine. Fuck it. If that’s what he wants, I’ll make him beg for attention.

You entered the set a moment after Tenna, but he was already in his element, running the show like he’d been born to do nothing else.

The transformation of the set caught you off guard. Where there had once been flashing lights and a giant TV screen, there was now a cozy kitchen. Wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with jars of colorful spices and neatly stacked bowls. A soft, golden light spilled across the kitchen counter, giving everything an almost homely glow. The air even smelled faintly of cinnamon and something sweet you couldn’t quite place.

Tenna moved through the space with practiced ease, speaking to the camera like he’d never lost control for a second. With a dazzling smile and a baked pie already in hand, he glided around the kitchen like it was his stage.

“Well now, folks, I know you’ve been waiting patiently for the next step in our delightful culinary adventure,” he purred, his voice smooth and sweet like sugar. “But first, I’d like to take a moment to introduce someone very special and clearly too good looking to be kept behind the scenes..”

He turned toward you with a theatrical flair, gesturing like a magician unveiling his assistant.

“If you’ve been tuning in today, and I do hope you have...” he said, voice dropping on the last line. “You might recognize them from our quiz show earlier!”

You matched his energy with an equally grand bow, playing the part to perfection.

“Ladies and germs, give (Y/n) the kind of welcome only a live studio can deliver!” he said with a playful lilt, clearly enjoying himself.

The audience cheered like they were getting paid for it.

Tenna took your hand and guided you to center stage, positioning you behind the counter like a co-host who’d always been part of the program.

“And now,” he continued, slipping effortlessly back into his presenter voice, though his face was fixed on you, as if you were the real ingredient he was savoring. “Onto the toppings.”

Tenna smiled charmingly, as if nothing had happened or maybe he was just masking his anger with the practiced ease of a seasoned actor. With someone as unpredictable as him, it was nearly impossible to be certain.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, voice low and smooth beside your ear. “I’ll make sure you get every step just right.”

He moved behind you, closer than necessary. You could feel the heat of him at your back and the soft rustle of his apron as he leaned in, clearly ready to guide you through the process.

“Could you grab the bowl with the heavy cream, sweetheart? he murmured, his voice husky and warm.

His warm breath caressed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. The way he said it made something as simple as picking up a bowl feel suddenly intimate.

“You’re doing great, darling,” he complimented, his hand settling lightly on the small of your back, a gesture far too familiar for someone you barely knew.

His touch lingered in your skin even after he pulled back and you couldn’t help the flutter of nerves rising in your chest.

Maybe, just like Tenna, I crave this kind of attention too.

His hand reached for a mixer and passed it to you, not without accidentally letting his fingers brush against yours, though it felt just a little too intentional to be a mistake.

“And don’t forget, folks. Your heavy cream needs to be extra cold, just like your ex’s heart!” he said, turning to the camera with a practiced smile.

H̸͚̦̀́̊̕A̷̢͎͒̍A̸͎͎͒͋́͘a̶̞̜̳͌̓̿a̷͇͍̣̗̎Â̵̛͙̌̕H̸̠̑͋̏̊A̶͍̟͠H̵͓̪͊̉͒͗Ą̸͑H̴̩͙̲̩̃A̷̫̼͊̊͜A̶̰̺͖͓̽̿̓a̸̺̪͇͐͒a̴̜̹͛̾̆͠A̶͙͉͚̩͗͝À̵̤́͘A̵̟̭̜͛̇̿̏͜ḧ̷̙̩͙̯́̌̓̔á̵̖͌͘?̴͔͒̄͜͝??

“You’ll know your cream is ready once you start seeing those nice, stiff peaks!” Tenna announced, his attention focused on the camera, but off screen, behind the counter, his hands were slowly traveling down your waist.

Wasn’t he supposed to be the dinner and flowers first kind of man? Maybe it was the camera that gave him the confidence he lacked off screen, like a stage to become the man he wished he was.

You were still a little lost in the sensation, the warmth of his touch lingering, distracting you from the task at hand. It wasn’t until he gave your hip a gentle squeeze that you snapped back to reality.

“Darling, um...” he murmured, his voice still soft as his lips brushed just near your ear. “I think you forgot to turn the mixer on.”

BZZZZZZZZ (don’t worry, if there’s ever a chapter with sex toys, I promise I won’t use this sound effect)

The low hum of the mixer vibrated through your fingers, through the bowl, through you.

“Lovely, just like that,” he whispered, his hand resting gently on your waist. “You’re doing great. Don’t stop.”

His breath ghosted against your neck, his body too close behind you and the sudden nearness made your grip falter.

Maybe it was the words he’d chosen that threw off your focus just enough that your fingers slipped. The mixer wobbled in your grasp, then sputtered.

With a sudden spray, whipped cream splattered in every direction: your hands, your apron, the counter, and even a bold streak across your cheek.

“Well, dear,” Tenna purred, his grin slow and shameless, his voice just soft enough to pretend he wasn’t coming on to you. “That’s definitely one way to whip it... though I usually save that kind of energy for more intimate settings.”

Still holding your waist, he turned to the camera and adjusted his tie with a jittery motion, as if trying to mask his flustered state.

“Mike, can we even air this, or will the censors come for us? Because I am equal parts horrified and incredibly turned on.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, lips twitching. It wasn’t funny, except it absolutely was. The absurdity of it all cracked something open, and before you could stop yourself, you laughed. A genuine laugh. Loud and without control, coming from somewhere deep.

Tenna moved beside you to face you, then smiled. It was softer this time, less of the camera perfect grin and more vulnerable.

“There it is,” he said, his hand gently cupping your face in a reassuring way. “I was wondering when I’d get to hear that.”

He gently brushed a streak of cream from your cheek with a towel, clearly savoring the rare intimacy of the moment. You watched him, only to realize his screen was just as splattered, streaked with creamy smudges.

“I don’t know whether to be mortified or impressed,” you said, your eyes still on him as he carefully cleaned you off, his attention entirely focused on you.

“I think you should be impressed,” he teased, his tone almost affectionate now. “You’ve got a talent for making a mess look dangerously interesting.”

You smirked, still a little flustered by the way his words carried that unmistakable flirtation.

“Well, someone has to balance out your perfection, right?”

His voice hummed with a quiet chuckle, so real it was almost too sweet to believe.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, booping your nose with a playful grin. “But I’ll take the compliment, sweetheart.”

His hand moved to untie the ribbon at your back, slipping the dirty apron off with ease before he turned back to the camera or rather somewhere off screen. With a sharp gesture, he signaled for the filming to stop.

“Mike!” he called, his voice louder than necessary. “We need backup with this whipped cream situation!”

From the shadows, you heard a muffled, incomprehensible murmur.

“What do you mean there’s no more heavy cream?” he snapped, his hands landing firmly on his hips in mock indignation.

a̷̼͙̖͕̦̦͉̣͓̱̱̹̜̿̽͋̂̃̎̋͗͑f̷̛͔̹͓̀̈̌̓̌́̄̿̀͒̀̿͠͝d̶̛̲̗͆̀̿̏̏g̷̬͙̮̞̺̤͓͇̼͎̫̋̀̂̈́̂̐͐̅͐̍̎̈́̏̚̚ḩ̸̨̛̪̯̫̰͚̜͉̒͋͆̀́̅͌͗̓̅͒̀̉̋f̶̱̩͎̳̋͐̎̀̾̽̋͠ǧ̴̭͕̭̬͙̦͈͈̟͙̲͙̈́d̸͚̺̫̝͓̭̰̞͓̔͊̔̂͛͝f̷͕̻̩̹̩̜͙̜̯͊͒́̅͘̕̕s̸̨̺͉͕̜̙̙̮͖͇̤̫̻̈́̀̔̋͂̀͊̌̓͝ͅã̴͖̝̑̆́͐̐̃̍͑̒̒̚̚͜d̴̡͇̦̼͔̒͐k̶̙̜͇̋̃͐̈́́́̓̄̃͘ḩ̷͇̯̯̆̏̀g̶̦̀͂͑f̶̯͈͕̳̼́̅͠͝j̶̧̭̖̦̞̘̝͓͎̍̽̋̔͐̅̐̊̀̽̿͋̕h̷̡̜̦̞̯͔̟̩͕̝̟̞̭̳̊́̀̌͊̈́ͅg̸͓̾̄̋̔͗̔̕͝f̷̛͍̫͉͖̂͐̂̓̀̓d̴̨̨͖̲̹̠̬̟̩̱͉̙̹̃͒̾̃́͋è̴̩͚̱̀̑͑͆͌̐͘w̶̢̧̮͔̜͙͎̙͇͑̂͆̈́͋͆́̾́̽͆̄̔͜t̵̗̝̫̠̎̈̿̐͘͝͠͝͝ͅr̵͙̤̖̀̑͠y̴̹͇͐̕h̴͕͓͊f̶͌̒̌̂̆̓͒̍̕��̝̀̽ŵ̴̭̘͚̥͚͔͉̭̩̣̲̐̽̔͑̅͘͝ͅe̵̛͇̜̐̑͊̈́̓̐̌͑̑͛͆̔͝f̸͙̲͚͇̪̻͔͈͚̅͋̍̑̐̐͋̃͋̃͜͝g̸̨̡̫̝̙̥͍̙͈͚̫̮̖͖̐̐͝

“Okay, okay…” he sighed, clearly resigned to the fact that the pie wouldn’t be happening. “Then just play some random VHS after the commercial break.”

With that, Tenna slipped off his apron and left it on the counter, leaning against it casually.

“Look,” he said, his tone suddenly serious, though a smile curled at the corners of his lips. “If you couldn’t wait for our date, you could’ve just said so. I would’ve played the VHS before baking the pie.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to stifle the smile that tugged at your lips. “And here I thought you really cared about the program.”

Tenna leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping into a teasing whisper. “With a date with you on my mind, it’s hard to care about anything else.”

Suddenly, Tenna pulled you closer into his body, squeezing you tight in an embrace. He breathed in deeply, clearly relaxed and happy, as if the future with you was full of promise and excitement.

“You’re such a sweetheart, aren’t you?” he murmured, gently nuzzling the top of your head with his pointy nose, clearly lost in the affection of the moment.

But before you could reply, Mike’s strange voice cut in from the shadows.

Tenna’s antennae, which had been resting loosely, sprang upright with a sharp jolt. He hadn’t realized Mike was still there.

“Give it a rest, Mike, and get yourself a life!” Tenna barked, his head snapping toward Mike with an furious glare.

He whirled back to you almost immediately, his expression shifting into something far more controlled, as if trying to recapture the moment.

“Where were we, my dear?” he asked, voice quiet and tender as he brushed his knuckle gently along your cheekbone. “Ah yes. The date. How could I forget?”

You smiled, a sense of relief already blooming in your chest at the thought of finally seeing what was out there and maybe enjoying it all under the glow of candlelight in the company of this strange, charismatic man.

“Um, how do I put this,” he backed away slightly, his expression turning a bit more serious. “It’s quite late in the night and I don’t think any restaurants are open.”

Tenna strolled over to the fridge, peering inside with an exaggerated level of scrutiny. He clicked his tongue, then moved to the nearby shelves, rummaging through boxes and tins like he was on a mission.

“But worry not, my dear,” he said, spinning on his heel with an armful of ingredients: packets of noodles, a few vegetables, and some spices. “I have a backup plan.”

You stepped closer, curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” he said cheerfully. “This will be a night to remember.”

You’d already made your culinary skills known earlier, and judging by the determined curve in his smile, he wanted to impress you. Maybe even surprise you.

“Wait for me in the movie room, sweetheart,” he added, fastening his apron with a quick tug. “I won’t take very long.”

There was an edge to his words, like he was warning you. You couldn’t quite tell.

“Where is that?” you asked, silently hoping it was far from the stage.

“It’s close, actually. Just out this door and to the right. Can’t miss it!”

He clasped his hands with enthusiasm, as if the idea of a more casual date was even more exciting to him.

You gave him a smile and nodded, but as you turned to leave, his hand suddenly closed around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

“Oh, and before you go,” Tenna said, his voice now lower, laced with a faint buzz of static. “I hope you don’t get lost this time...”

[thesharktanksdriver]

Devils may love?: Dante’s jukebox playlist

Kinda semi-canon, originally meant this as just a playlist with a small blurb at the beginning but made this instead. Hope you enjoy these two dumbasses fumbling hard.

Links: masterlist, part 1, part 2, part 3

Taglist: @galaxylibella @dragon-lord-lysander @idleviewer @rosvaline @superbfuryfest @localeggdealer @mellophoned @justanotherweeb666 @her-majesty-horiko

The jukebox was always playing in devil may cry, that had been a habit of Dante’s that you had noticed years ago when you’d initially joined him.

From dusk to dawn the machine played its selection of songs back to back. The old machine somehow surviving after years of it being hit and being half hazardly fixed after the Temen-ni-Gru tower with the trashing of DMC. Yet still it played the small vinyls that Dante had hand selected individually.

He’d made it somewhat of a habit, a tradition to change them up every once in a while to not keep things stale. Giving you the task of placing the songs he’d picked into the machine after carefully curating the song list he’d created. The songs could vary from 80’s rock to 90’s grunge and everything in between considering he wasn’t too picky so long as something had a good beat and could fill the comfortable silence.

Yet with each they all matched each other in some sort of theme.

Sometimes genre

Other times it was the era

But usually though it had correlated to a certain emotion or mood it had persisted.

that was another thing you’d noticed you’d noticed with your time here.

Dante had expressed himself through music.

It was hard to tell for sure at first. Just subtle songs and certain track lists he’d cycle through, occasionally changing the 7 inch vinyls to whatever he’d wanted and even adding your suggestions as well that matched. But with each rotation you’d began to see a correlation based on the small mock playlists he’d made and would put in the machine.

The one usually on was his neutral and regular soundtrack.

80’s rock mixed with some late to early 90’s stuff as well. Familiar bands such as AC/DC, Guns & Roses, motley crew, Metallica, U2 and Billy idol. God by now you’d practically memorized “white wedding, pt. 1”, “bullet with butterfly wings” and “dirty deeds done dirt cheap” with how they'd play every few hours in a day. Dante humming along as he looked through a dirty magazine on the nearby couch or polished ebony and ivory at his desk.

When upset he’d play slower and more emotional pieces. It happened once a year during what you’d slowly pieced together to be his mothers death date and later on for Vergil’s as well. Nirvana’s “come as you are”, R.E

.M.‘S “losing my religion” and led zeppelin’s “stairway to heaven” being frequent in the building's halls. Unlike before he wouldn’t hum along, there was just an empty silence filled with the music played aloud paired with your pen gliding across paper.

With this knowledge you're not exactly sure what emotion to correlate to his newest playlist he asked you to load into the machine while he was out. Well he maybe didn’t ask you directly, but when you found the list on his desk that was typically a sign of him requesting you to do something. But either or, you weren’t sure how to feel about the playlist in front of you.

Why per say?

Well….

“These are all love songs?”

Yeah, looking at the list in your hand and the box of 7 inch vinyl discs your left at a weird standstill. Perhaps even more odd was the fact that this list was different from his usual playlists he’d write down for you to place in the machine. Typically they’d just have the song name and the artist on a crumpled piece of paper but this has full on lyrics written out. Not only that, it was also neat and in calligraphy of all things with red pen.

You’d known Dante long enough to see when he was putting effort into something and when he wasn’t. Typically when it came to things such as paperwork he’d lazily scribble his signature down in chicken scratch, but if it came to something he’d enjoy he’d pull a 180. Suddenly he put effort into it and this was seemingly included.

To be honest learning he was actually good at cursive was a surprise, like even more surprising to finish out he was only part demon. Yet it seemed to be one of the things Sparda or Eva had taught him. He just never used it often.

Well until now at least.

Your eyes scour down at the lyrics on the page, quirking a brow as you picked out the songs he had chosen for the list.

10 in total and too many questions to count in your mind.

Oh well, Dante didn’t pay you to ask questions, he paid you to keep his shit in order even if it bit him in the ass. You shrug off the remaining things you’d probably not get answers to and began the process of placing them in the machine.

𝐈𝐫𝐢𝐬 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐨 𝐆𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐬

“𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈'𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 '𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰, 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐨 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞 '𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠'𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐈 𝐚𝐦”

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

“𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲. 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐈’𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐲

𝐈𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐈’𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐲

𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐫 - 𝐛𝐨𝐧 𝐣𝐨𝐯𝐢

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬, "𝐖𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭, 𝐈𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭.𝐖𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭"

𝐆𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬 "𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞'𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭, 𝐈𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭.𝐖𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭"

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐁𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐨𝐯𝐢

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞, 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞.

𝐖𝐨𝐚𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐧, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐎𝐡, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐮𝐧,𝐍𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞.

𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞) 𝐈 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞) 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 - 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐞𝐧

𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐓𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫

𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬. 𝐋𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫, 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬

𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭. 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧' 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫��� 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐭

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 ��𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 '𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭”

𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚 - 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝐈 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬, 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬. 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐲

𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚-𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐲𝐚. 𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚-𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚, 𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐚

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐈 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧' 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧' 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫...𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡...

𝐢 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐄𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡

𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 (𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐲) 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 (𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫) 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 (𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐲) 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲

𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝) 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 (𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝) 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨 (𝐋𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝) 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮

𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡 - 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐚

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡, 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐮𝐩. 𝐈 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡. 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮.𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡, 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐡 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭

𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚- 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧

𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟. 𝐆𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐲

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞, 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚. 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐖𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐛 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚.

𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐡𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐖𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞'𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

Finally done with the day you can’t help but collapse onto the nearby couch just as the doors to dmc were kicked open by a triumphant looking Dante. There was a certain pep in his step as he walked through the doors, rebellion swung over his shoulder with a few drops of blood splattering on the floor…the floor you just polished earlier today…god damn it-

“Hey Honeypie! How’s my lovely assistant today?” He says this with the most shit eating grin you think you’d ever seen. All teeth and gums as he dropped rebellion to the ground, letting it clatter on your once beautiful wooden floor and draping himself over your shoulders. Arms snaking themselves to pull you close, the back of your head hitting his too sturdy chest that was comparable to a wall of bricks.

“I was fine until you walked in”

“Oh c'mon,honey don't be so cold. What did I do this time?” His voice is dripping in mock sadness, all the while he kept his grin and squished his cheek against yours. “Was it cause I didn’t give you a goodbye kiss?” WOW he was laying on the fake flirting hard today.

“Well for one you ruined my floors again” You push away from him, hand smushing his face and escaping from his grasp to stand up. He looks vaguely like a kicked puppy.

“Technically their my floors-“

“Uh huh? But who cleans and maintains them?”

“Uh-“

“Exactly!” He doesn’t have any time to give a proper response or react as you then list out what else you’d done today. Citing all the things you did for this store and how by now this entire place was maintained by you and therefore should technically be in your name, including the jukebox you restocked today-

“Wait, wait…you changed the set list?” This time he’s the one to cut off your rant. Placing a disgusting gloved finger over your mouth to shush you, you’ll have to scrub your face later. You’d rather not get demon blood on let alone in you. “Uh yeah? You left a list so I assumed you wanted it changed” you respond back watching him close.

There are few times you’d ever seen Dante look properly panicked let alone flustered. He typically didn’t break his composure no matter the situation, he’d literally walk into hell and still not break a sweat.

And yet now-

“Shit, which list did you grab?” He looks mildly anxious.

“The one you left on your desk what’s the deal-“

The white haired hunter practically sprints to the jukebox, a chant of “shit! Shit! Shit!” Under his breath as his gloved hand flew towards one of the buttons blindly. The song he chose without looking at the buttons displaying the names was Iris by the goo goo dolls. The recognizable intro beginning as the diamond needle began its journey across the small vinyl plate of groves and rings that capture both sound and the soul of John Rzeznik’s voice filled the shop.

You think you can see the 5 stages of grief flash through his blue eyes.

First there’s denial. Because maybe, just maybe this iconic opening couldn’t be the same song for this playlist he’s made. The opening lines of “and i'd give up forever to touch you, ‘cause i know that you feel me somehow” play and that hope quickly dies.

Second bargaining. Maybe this wasn’t the same playlist, it could be a mistake. He presses a different song to play, “abracadabra” by Steve miller band begins….fu-

Thirdly, anger. It’s not directed at you but more so himself by how he mutters curses under his breath and bangs his head against the machine that sings the lyrics “you make me hot, you make me sigh, you make me laugh, you make me cry. Keep me burnin’ for your love, with the touch of a velvet glove”.

Fourth depression. He keeps banging his head against the machine creating dull thumps, it ciphers through more of the songs before landing on the romantics “taking in your sleep”. It’s ironic that the lyrics that are sung are “when you open up your heart and the truth comes out” since he’s neither being honest to you nor himself by the looks of it.

And fifth and finally acceptance in the most brutal sense as mortification and embarrassment flooded him. It makes him slump his shoulders in shame and some sort of embarrassment.

It’s perhaps a first for the man who once talked with a client in nothing but a towel tied around his waist after a fresh shower. All the while you gave the poor man across the desk apologetic looks, safe to say the man did everything afterwards over calls instead of in person. Though you maybe had lost some sympathy when he attempted to slip you his number via a business card.

A card that Dante quickly ripped up and tossed into the trash.

Yet now this same man was red up to his ears because you accidentally found his weird love song playlist…wait was it like his sex playlist? Or did he have this planned as a surprise for someone? The only person you could think of was lady.

Well…you can’t say you didn’t get a certain sexual frustration vibe from the two of them. Their burning gazes at one another from across the room as you sat in the middle of their weird tango.

Maybe that’s why he’s horrified, this was meant to be on the down low.

Well shit…you feel a bit bad now, maybe telling him that it’s ok and you approve of them would help? Yeah that was maybe the best course of action. You take the action to move towards him as he continued to hit his head in an accepted despair. He only stops when you gently placed a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze to you.

There’s a brief silent moment letting him stare at you.

“It’s ok Dante. I know who this is for” there’s a brief moment of both fear and hope strike up in his eyes. Like a lighter creating a flame for a moment before a few more tries at the flint wheel.

“Hon-“

“Shhh” now both your hands cup his face, it instantly quiets him down to nothing but a small breath that races past his lips. His heart rapidly beats in his chest, from anxiety for sure since you now knew. His pupils dilate like that of a cat, and like a cat you can imagine him practically purring…or he could be actually potentially purring considering his inhuman capabilities.

“I approve of you and lady. You guys are a good match”

There’s yet another pause but now longer, so long you could hear the raccoons in the back alleyway break a mirror. his face falls drastically but you're too busy patting his shoulder to notice.

“What?”

“Don’t worry if neither of you want to make things official yet I’ll keep it on the down low”

He makes several attempts at saying “what? No-“ but they were quickly shushed by your confident pats on his shoulder before you walked off presumably to call lady and let her know. Dante can’t even care for the fact that the canon slinging woman was definitely either gonna use him as target practice for Kalina Ann or up his debt by 50% at least. So he’s left there to stare at the jukebox and the love songs he curated for you to play in vain as you believed he meant it for the person he’s competing with for you.

His head thumps against the jukebox once more

Changing the song to Echo and the bunnymen’s “lips like sugar” in another cruel irony.

“Just when you think you've caught her, She glides across the water\~”

“Go fuck yourself McCulloch”

“-Lips like sugar, Sugar kisses\~”

[stolenviolet]

I saw in your baby death au story explanation that Harry can't sleep alone unless he has the doors open (correct me if I'm wrong). If I'm correct, does that mean Voldemort and Harry sleep in the same bed sometimes? And if not, how did Voldmort notice the specifics something like that?

Ah, good question!

He can sleep alone, but not very well (the door being open helps a bit but overall he just needs someone there with him). Even when he got his own room at the Dursley's, he had Hedwig to keep him company.

And like I said, there's no 'sleeping' together for quite a while, so how DID Voldemort notice?

The short answer:

They live in the same house (an agreement that was reached by the two of them, more for convenience sake, as they raise Thomas) so it would be odd if Voldemort hadn't noticed it eventually.

The long answer:

During the first two or three years of living under the same roof, Harry never slept anywhere besides the nursey. At first, Voldemort chalked it up as some sort of paternal instinct to protect Thomas. (most likely from Voldemort himself) However, while retiring to his own chambers in the evening, he always found it curious that Harry would leave the door slightly cracked.

'Would it not make more sense to have the door closed?,' he thought, 'The sound of it opening would surely be enough to wake him if someone were to enter the room...'

He shook his head, 'Perhaps the boy was clever enough to cast the appropriate spells to do so instead.'

He tested this theory once by walking into the room late one night and standing directly by the crib. Annoyingly, Harry never did stir from his slumber on the chaise lounge he had claimed in lieu of an actual bed. Both him and the baby remained fast asleep, completely unaware of the powerful wizard looming in the darkness so close by.

Voldemort honestly didn't know whether to be insulted (as he was clearly not viewed as a threat) or disappointed in the fact that there were, indeed, no protection or alarm spells in the room.

A problem he quickly remedied himself for the sake of the spawn's well-being, as it appears his 'Ma' would not be roused if an intruder were to somehow break past the home's already impressive wards.

And so Harry continued to sleep in the same room as his son, with the door slightly ajar, until Thomas was old enough to have his own bed.

This is when Voldemort began to notice that Harry did not take well to sleeping alone at night.

He would often find the 'boy-who-lived' looking quite dead on his feet, with heavy bags under his eyes, constantly drifting in and out of conversations.

After a good two or so weeks of this, Voldemort had finally had enough and decided to confronted him. Unsurprisingly, he was quickly brushed off, and the subject was changed almost immediately. No matter how many times he tried, he was always met with the same sort of response.

'Why do you even care?'

'Yes, I'm getting enough sleep. Stop asking, it's weird.'

'So what if I get nightmares, your probably the cause of most of them anyway!'

'I'm fine! Don't you have an animal or person or-or something to go torture other than me? Just-...just leave me alone...'

Needless to say, this was getting him no where and apart from drugging the boy with a sleeping draught every night, Voldemort was almost at his wits end.

That was unit one morning Harry came down from his room for breakfast looking fairly well-rested with a chipper-than-normal attitude.

Voldemort was puzzled.

What had changed? Did he just have one good night without anything haunting his dreams? Surely that was bound to happen at some point, but it was unlikely to be a regular occurrence.

However, weeks ticked by and Harry's eyes seemed brighter and his mood rapidly began to improve. He even started to engage in somewhat pleasant small talk when the two found themselves alone for more then five minutes at a time.

It was all very welcome and highly suspicious.

So, being the curious man that he was, Voldemort decided it was once again time to lurk about in the middle of the night for the cause of this sudden change in behavior.

And what he found, as he stood in the threshold of Harry's room, took him by surprise.

There, on the plush four poster bed coiled up next to his sleeping prophesized enemy, was Nagini.

Sensing his presence, she raised her large head to regard her master, who remained fixed in the doorway.

'Master's mate was in dire need of comfort. Nagini has decided she will be the one to provide it.'

Voldemort did not correct her, too busy trying to determine what exactly he was feeling in that moment to give her a proper response.

'...He is also very warm and a far better cuddler than master.'

That snapped him out of his thoughts long enough for him to huff out a quick, 'Don't be rude, Nagini.' To which she replied with a series of hisses that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

He sighed, and foolishly hoped she didn't notice the darkening of his cheeks.

'Very well, you may continue to provide...comfort. Thank you, my Nagini.'

She nodded once and went back to resting her head next to Harry's on his pillow.

He stayed in the doorway a while longer, observing the last two pieces of his soul huddled close to one another, before finally turning to walk silently back to his own room.

--

Nagini: you suck at cuddling and you're a terrible mate.

Voldemort:

--

Thanks for the ask, anon! ❤️