#does this song not make everyone burst into tears???

[millenianthemums]

i think music acts directly on my brain more than any other art form. hearing a song can change my entire mood instantly. it’s crazy how the right noises can just light up my neurons and suddenly make me feel like i’m in some wild scenario

[headkiss]

I LOVE the idea of protective Hotch constantly having an eye out for younger bau!agent who’s literally sunshine personified and the complete opposite of him!! Do u think u could write something along the lines of that—maybe him protecting her from something or just their dynamic?

i also love protective hotch!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it baby :D | 1k of fluff, tw for a small burn!

You’d been surprised when you got a job at the BAU. You didn’t have that much faith in yourself at first. Not to say you don’t believe in your skills, but it’s a widely known part of the bureau. A lot of people wanted the job.

And then, there’s Agent Hotchner, unit chief and intimidating though you’re sure he doesn’t mean to be. You were insanely nervous at the beginning.

That was before you started, before the team welcomed you as the new media liaison after Agent Jareau became a profiler. You met Garcia and her collection of fun high heels, Reid and his never ending supply of facts, and you sort of fit right in.

Hotch became much less intimidating. A kind man who cares so deeply for his team that you couldn’t help but like him the way you do. Not to mention the dynamic that built between the two of you.

The small things he does for you that are impossible to ignore. A hand covering the edge of your desk to protect your head when you were searching underneath it for a dropped paper clip, the way he physically places himself between you and danger if he ever gets the chance.

He’s always there, protecting you in ways both big and little, and you enjoy it more than you should.

It’s even brighter on nights like tonight. Drinks and snacks at Penelope’s after a tough case. Nights when you get to call him Aaron instead of Hotch, when he smiles and laughs freely without restraint.

The beep of the oven cuts off yours and Garcia’s conversation, and when she shifts to take care of it, you stop her, “I got it! You’re already hosting, just relax a little.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, squeezing your arm as you walk by.

The smell of food in the oven hits your nose as you walk into the kitchen, humming along to whatever song spills through the speakers.

You pull the oven open, reaching in without thinking and touching the pan with your bare hand. You drop it quickly, metal clanking as it falls back onto the rack in the oven.

“Shit!” You say it loudly, and then, even louder, addressing the team in the next room, “I’m okay!”

They all laugh a little at your reassurance, and then, like they know he wouldn’t let anyone else check on you before him, pretty much every set of eyes in the room lands on Hotch.

He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen, because he would’ve gone either way.

“You okay?” He asks, finding you with an oven mitt on your non-burnt hand, reaching into the oven, and your burnt hand shaking by your side.

“Oh!” You set the pan of nachos on top of the stove and slip off the mitt, turning off the oven and looking at Hotch. “I forgot oven mitts were a thing for a second there. Burnt my hand, I think.”

He’s on you in a second, his hands gently grasping your injured arm, pushing back your sleeve and guiding you over to the sink. His hold is light, never bruising even though you know he has the strength to do so.

It’s the kiss of sunlight on skin.

Aaron turns on the sink, places his fingers under the water to make sure the temperature’s okay before guiding your hand under the stream.

“You still took out the nachos first?” He asks, even when he knows that’s what you’d do, because of course you’re worrying about everyone else before yourself.

“I didn’t want them to burn.”

You’re trying to be brave, though your hand hurts so much there are tears misting your eyes. You’re bouncing on your feet a little to try and deal with the pain.

“How bad does it hurt?” Hotch checks.

Aaron’s felt this sort of protectiveness over you ever since you started. A little younger than him, this ball of light that’s come bursting into his life. You’re always the positive one, even in the darkest situations and he can’t help but want to shield you to keep it that way.

There’s this thing in his chest that tugs and tugs when you’re around, that makes him stand next to you in any room, in front of you in darkness.

“It’s okay,” you say, though your voice cracks a little. “I’m sure you’ve seen much worse, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminds you gently, “and you don’t have to pretend. It’s alright if it hurts, I just wanna help.”

The sink running mingles with the music coming from the next room, the background noise to your moment with him.

“You could bring the nachos out? I told Garcia I would, but we see how that turned out.”

“Okay, I'll bring them out.”

“Don’t forget oven mitts!”

He huffs with a smile, somehow always surprised with how easily you can turn something around. A smile on your face even with tears shining in your eyes and a hand that’s surely stinging.

Aaron carries the tray of nachos and drops them off, then turns to Penelope, “you have a first aid kit?”

“Oh my gosh! Yeah, bathroom cabinet, I can grab it.”

“It’s alright, Garcia. I’ll get it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing major, I’m taking care of it.”

He grabs the first aid kit and heads back to the kitchen where you’re still holding your hand under the stream of water.

“Okay,” Aaron sets the kit down on the counter, opening it and then turning off the tap. “Let me see, honey.”

The word melts into you, sticky sweet, and you hold your hand towards him, palm up.

He starts by drying your hand with a piece of paper towel, pressing your skin lightly. His other hand is under yours, his palm against the back of your hand a painkiller in itself.

You hiss when he hits a sensitive spot, and he’s quick to apologize, his voice low and quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Almost done.”

“It’s okay, Aaron. It's not your fault I thought I was heat-proof.”

“You’re cute.”

A smile spreads over your face, your head tilted down to stare and his hands around yours. You watch him spread some Polysporin over your burn, his fingertips featherlight over your skin, soft apologies leaving him every time you flinch a little.

By the time he’s done, the first aid kit shut on the counter, you’ve both forgotten about the rest of the team in the next room. Aaron’s happy to bask in your sunshine.

[killerpancakeburger]

Breaking Point (1/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Ghost x GN!Reader

Soap's version.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Ghost is... Ghost; taciturn, blunt, aloof, but Not An Asshole, protective, trustworthy, He's Trying ☆.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing. Ghost's part is significantly darker than Soap's (in terms of suicide ideation, not as in he's a yandere).

WORDS COUNT: 3.6k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃 Ghost role-plays (NOT SEXUAL) as the world's worst psychiatrist. Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

The sight of the dark, bulky silhouette standing in the frame does nothing to appease your worries - quite the opposite. Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be fucking Ghost. The most intimidating - not to say terrifying - man on the whole base, but also the most cryptic. 

Towering over 190cm and built like few were, even on a military base, you had recoiled despite yourself the first time you met. Every single detail regarding him was redacted - you knew because you had checked his file, consumed by curiosity -, including his own face - unvaryingly covered by a black mask adorned with a white skull. That semblance of halloween mask and an alias was all that he shared with the world. 

He dispensed his words in dribs and drabs to a handful of privileged people, which seemed limited to your supervisor, Captain Price, who was also his direct superior, and his teammates of the Task Force 141. He couldn’t have offered you more than ten syllables in the six months you’ve been there. Yet, everyone knew who he was, what he was capable of, and crowds systematically parted with his passage like the Red Sea. 

You had wisely taken the resolution to not heed the rumors about him, which ranged from hardly believable to frankly ridiculous, but you couldn’t help the knot in your stomach every time he was nearby. It wasn’t only his imposing stature that put you on edge, but mainly the fact that he was always impassive. His mask effectively hid his emotions, sure, but his voice didn’t let anything show through either. Most of the time you had no idea what he was thinking or feeling, leaving you puzzled at how to interact with him. Not that there were that many interactions to begin with, but the few that happened left you with a lasting impression.

However you were pleased with yourself after you quit agonizing over his opinion of you, focusing instead on doing your best to treat him like the other soldiers. He may not be friendly, but he never had been disrespectful either.

You stare at him in horror, a deer in the headlights, unable to emit a sound. You didn’t even have the time to fabricate a bunch of excuses to get you out of this situation.

Shit, shit, shit. What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?

“Ya good?” 

His tone is gruff, as it always is, but not hostile. The question feels like a way out of this awkward situation, a lifebelt. You cling onto it like you're lost at sea.

Maybe you can still turn this around - pretend everything is OK. He will follow the implicit rules of politeness and leave you to it.

You hasten to reply.

“Yeah, yeah, it's fine. I'm fine.”

As you finish drying your face, he steps into the room, stopping in front of your desk.

“Did you need something?”

Your voice automatically switches to “customer service” mode, and you plaster a fake smile on your face. The mental image of a puppet, strings forcing the corner of its lips to lift, comes to your mind.

Ghost doesn't respond. His eyes are searching your face like it's an encrypted message that could provide a target's position.

Your smile vacillates under his scrutiny. The examination is cold, clinical; there's no warmth nor sympathy in those brown eyes.

“Doesn't look fine to me.”

He announces the statement like a fact, voice dull, neutral. He doesn't provide sympathy, but he doesn't cast judgment either. It’s not less irritating though.

Your first instinct is to snap at him, tell him to mind his own business, ask why he even cares. You resist it. Picking quarrels will only make matters worse. You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Ghost turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced. He still recalls vividly the moment he stopped considering you like another faceless office worker amongst others and made an effort to remember your name.

He was mindlessly killing time in the break room with Gaz and Soap until you showed up at the door, a forced smile on your face, attempting to look casual but your body language betraying your nervousness. He spotted you first, the other two engaged in a lively conversation. Relief spread on your face when you saw he had noticed you, sparing you the trouble of having to call out for him, and you approached.

“Ghost, can I have a word? … in private?”

He straightened up from the wall he was leaning on and followed you wordlessly, feeling the prying stares of his teammates lingering on him. You stopped in the hallway to face him.

“You forgot to fill out the medical part in your last report.”

Fingers linked together, you were anxiously twiddling your thumbs. His eyes followed the movement unconsciously.

“I haven't.”

You frowned in uncomprehension. 

“Your medical file said-”

“I know what the medical file said,” he retorted firmly, hoping that you would understand his intention without him having to spell it out loud.

The furrow in your brows didn’t go away, quite the contrary.

“You want me to lie.”

The statement wasn’t an accusation, but a request for confirmation.

“You catch on quick.”

The sarcasm and patronization unintentionally slipped into his voice. You were just a newbie trying to do your job well, after all. However the others before you never took the trouble to confront him about this, either out of fright or negligence, and this felt like a waste of his time.

He watched you search his face for something, an explanation, a way out? You bit your lips, conflicted, before replying:

“No.”

“No?” he repeated, raising a skeptical eyebrow that you couldn’t see, crossing his arms. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. He wasn’t used to being turned down anymore, except for so few individuals, like Price or Laswell, that they could be counted on the fingers of one hand. That the first person to oppose him in so long wasn’t an uptight high ranking or a gutsy enemy, but you, an average civilian, was definitely a surprise. 

“I'm not taking that risk”, you added with a determination he didn’t expect.

“Ya wouldn’t be takin’ any. Nobody will be none the wiser.”

“That's not what I- urgh. I am not letting you go back injured on the field! I don't care if you're the ghost or whatever, you’re not invulnerable. So either you fill that damn file or I'm telling Price.”

“Oh? You'd snitch on me?”

“I'd do it to save your life, yeah.”

And with that, you shoved the papers in his chest, turned around and walked away. You had barely disappeared around the corner that he was already mentally calling himself a bloody idiot. Why had it been so tempting to provoke you? Because out of nowhere your usually bashful self showed audacity? Because you were absurdly hellbent on defending his expandable life? No matter the reason, he started to look at you differently from that day on.

Clearly you and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

He deposits the stack of files he had been holding on your bureau, but as you reach to seize them, he covers your hand with his own and leans in.

You would have stared in disbelief at his gloved hand over yours if the proximity of his face wasn’t a much more pressing matter. You can feel your face warm up and you loathe it.

“Those'll still be there tomorrow, love.”

You blink in surprise at the pet name. It's like you're a spooked horse and he's trying to soothe you with sweet nothings.

“But the paperwork-”

“Fuck the paperwork.”

Easy for him to say.

“But Price-”

“I'll deal with Price.”

“My mom's in the hospital”, you brutally admit, having run out of pretext.

You look each other in the eye for what seems forever. 

“Ye take yer coffee with three sugars, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah?”

You reply hesitantly, stunned by the ask that, a priori, has nothing to do with your wholehearted confession. How did he even know that? The words have barely left your lips that he already disappeared into the corridor. You stare in disbelief at the door, mouth agape. You poured your fucking heart out and that socially inept bastard in his goofy ass halloween costume just ditched you after wringing the truth out of you like you were an interrogated enemy soldier.

Sipping the content of your mug with the Ghost's unblinking stare fixated on you is an unsettling experience, to say the least. Seated on the chair facing your desk, legs wide open, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and gray pants, one hand holding his mug of tea, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he sat down. 

Does he seriously not realize how unnerving his starring is?

He exudes an aura of tranquil power; the unchallenged authority of someone who is used to being obeyed without question, combined with the nonchalance that comes with being unmatched. Even casually sprawled like this, he remains formidable.

A few minutes ago, he set down a steaming mug in front of you and a box of tissues - a delicate attention that sent a pang in your chest -, before taking a seat. The fingers of his free hand are softly taping his knee.

“Guess I won’t need to kill anyone tonight,” he declares in a detached manner.

You blink in incomprehension at that.

“But you don’t have a mission tonight…”

“Won’t have to kill anyone for makin’ ya cry,” he clarifies.

“Oh.”

What else can you possibly reply to that? The murder machine lounging in front of you has enough confirmed kills to make a sniper of legend green with envy.

“So…”, you initiate, not without uncertainty, “is this the moment where I get everything off my chest?”

“Do whatever ya want.” he placidly counters, shrugging.

It really, considerably, sounds like he doesn't care at all; but if he did, he wouldn’t be here.

You take a deep breath, staring at your desk.

“She's in the ICU. Paralyzed, intubated, put in a coma.”

Tears flood your eyes again. This time you don't try to fight them.

“I'm terrified for her. But, what's worse is…”

You swallow your saliva; blink in rapid succession - the tears sting.

“I can’t help but think the worst. About what'll become of me without her.”

Water overflows your eyes. The dam ruptures abruptly. Raw honesty spills from your lips.

“She’s all I have. Without her, I have nothing. I am nothing.”

The ensuing silence is deafening. You wonder what the hell you’re doing. There’s something about the man in front of you that, paradoxically, makes you want to confide in him. Despite his lack of warmth, he feels steady, reliable. A rock to lean on when your whole world is crumbling. Solid ground when it feels like everything is caving in around you. Like you could lay all your burdens on him and he wouldn’t even flinch under what feels like the weight of the world.

You feel awfully selfish to entertain that thought, but you doubt he'd ever give you the opportunity to return the favor. 

“Bollocks.”

His tone is surlier than before. You look up at him to be sure you heard correctly.

“What about yer job? Ye enjoy it, right?”

You scoff bitterly at that.

“It's just a temporary gig. I'll be kicked out in two months.”

“We can make it permanent.”

You shoot him an incredulous look.

“You're just saying that.”

“‘M not. Wouldn't lie just to make ye feel better. Not my style.”

A cynical chuckle escapes you before a mischievous smirk stretches your lips.

“I’m sorry big guy, when did you get nominated as the commander of the base? Cause as far as I know this is outside your jurisdiction.” 

A similar smile spreads behind his mask. He’d take your sass over your tears any day.

“I have my ways,” he replies tranquilly.

From anyone else, you’d call it bragging or bluffing. Coming from the Ghost, it doesn’t sound as anything but the truth. He stares at you intensely, as if daring you to doubt him again, or intent on proving you his integrity through gaze alone. 

You look away, your cheeks heating up.

Ghost never minded that you can’t maintain eye contact. Just like he’s not into small talk, or physical contact. He knows most people tend to take it the wrong way, interpret it as contempt, when it couldn't be further from the truth.

“Thank you, but I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’d feel like I’m manipulating you.” 

He chuckles darkly, sending a shiver crawling down your spine, one you do not know if it was born of fear entirely or attraction. 

“Oh sweetheart, you couldn’t even if you tried.” 

Another tingle. Definitely pleasant this time. You desperately busy yourself with the content of your mug, the effects of that sentence on you too intense for the solemnity of the situation. 

Your strategy proves itself fruitful until a movement at the periphery of your vision attracts your gaze. You peek without thinking, and freeze at the sight of Ghost lifting his mask above his nose to drink from his cup. One scar crosses his mouth, another departs from the corner of his lips, both ancient but deep. They don’t faze you though - truth be told, the omnipresent mask made you expect him to look like a world war one veteran, so heavily disfigured that you wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

“Enjoyin’ the view?”

He doesn’t sound even remotely annoyed, but you lower your eyes in shame all the same.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“If I didn’t wantcha to look, I wouldn’t have taken it off.”

As you need a moment to take in the implications of that sentence, he talks again.

“What's your poison?”

“Pardon?” you reply, genuinely lost.

He snorts at your exaggerated politeness.

“Coffee isn’t gonna cut it. Whataya usually take when you feel like this? Alcohol? Cigs?”

A pause.

“Sex?”

You choke and set down your mug out of fear of dropping it.

“No, no… and no.”

“Nothing?”

He sounds doubtful.

“I… cry myself to sleep?”

It makes no sense to formulate it like a question, but everything about this is surreal.

He hums, contemplative.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“What?”

“Helpin’ ya.”

You scoff, suddenly irritated.

“You could lend me one of your guns and let me blow my brains off with it. That would help.”

 “Not gonna happen,” he counters with emphatic authority that leaves no place for rebuttal. 

“Worth a shot,” you say, trying to get the last word. “Ha, shot. Get it?”

“Very funny.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, like he’s a tired parent indulging you, a tireless child.

“You just don’t have any humor.”

The words left your lips before you could consider their impact. Yes, you never heard the Ghost laugh, but maybe he has a very good reason for that. Maybe several. Maybe you’re just a fucking asshole.

“Why are colds bad criminals?” 

Your head pivots towards him so fast you fear your neck is going to snap.

“Why…?”

“Because they’re easy to catch.”

You stare at him in bewildered silence, not quite believing what just happened, before starting to laugh, first softly, then, carried away, louder and louder, bordering on hysterical. You don’t even giggle because of the joke, but because the contrast between the silliness of it and how deadpan Ghost was when enunciating it is simply too good. That, and the nerves are probably getting the better of you.

“Never had anyone laugh that much at this one before.”

You attempt to get your breath back, alternating between pants and laughs, wiping a solitary tear at the corner of your eye.

“It’s just… you… I didn’t see it coming, jeez.”

Sighing wistfully, you take in the quietude of this fleeting moment.

“This is nice.”

“I'm always nice,” grunts the lieutenant. 

You let out a good-natured scoff, then reality catches up to you.

“SHIT! What time is it!?” you shout in panic as you violently get up. “Maybe I can still catch a bus-”

You log out of your work session, turn off your PC and shove all your belongings inside your bag in record time. Ghost barely bats an eye, still like a languid cat; a very big, very dangerous cat.

“You can spend the night.”

“No I can’t!”

You push your chair under your desk and pick up your coat.

“We can make some sorry bloke sleep outside.”

“Noooo- That's horrible!”

You have no idea if he’s messing with you or not.

“Not worse than what's waiting for ‘em on the field.”

“Well, I still can’t do that.”

“Good for you that I can, then.”

You finally look at him, an half-amused smile on your lips, raising a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Lemme guess. This is you ‘having your ways’ again, isn’t it?”

His offer is tempting. You really don’t want to be left to your own devices tonight.

He stands up and takes a step towards you while pulling his mask down and, oh, with him sitting this all time, you would have almost forgotten how much he towers over you.

“S’that a yes or a no?”

You could almost detect a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“It’s a yes, sir,” you retort while pronouncing the “sir” with as much impertinence as you can muster.

“Better keep up, then.”

And just like that, he vacates the premises, and you do have to focus to keep up because those long legs of his ain’t just for show.

As you two travel across corridors unknown to you, you wonder once again what the hell you’re doing, hanging out with this mountain of a man who’s more myth than human, and breaking the rules of a military base on a whim. Lost in thought, you don’t pay attention to the voices edging closer, and you’re completely taken aback when Ghost grabs you by the back of your shirt and drags you in a dark alcove with him. You’re so astounded, you don’t even make a sound. He takes hold of the back of your head and presses you against him to occupy as little space as possible, effectively hiding you from the men walking by. Only then you recognize Captain Price among other officers.

“Sorry ‘bout that, love,” whispers the man you’re squeezed against, barely audible, imperturbable as ever, like this is an everyday situation for him.

You don’t answer - you can’t, anyway, essentially muffled by his pecs. You should be more irked by those circumstances, but the sudden proximity set your face ablaze, therefore you’re very happy with its current concealment. 

“Price will have my head if he thinks I made you cry.”

You’re about to protest, but then you remember that one time when Soap tagged along when you were carrying a huge box back from the archives, and when Price saw you two, Soap unconcerned with empty hands, and your face almost disappearing behind the imposing cardboard, he called the sergeant a bloody useless muppet and then proceeded to call into question his ability to transport his rucksack for days. Nevermind that you were the one who insisted on carrying the crate on your own as it provided a nice workout, and that you had to bare your teeth at Soap to prevent him from taking it from you.

When the peril has walked by and Ghost releases you, you silently thank the shadows around you hiding how affected you are by this ersatz of a hug. Later, he drops you off at an unoccupied bedroom, small but including a bathroom and furnished with everything you could ever want. You say your goodbyes and your thanks at the door, and he. pats. your head. You don’t even have time to be outraged that he states he will see you tomorrow, something that sounds like a promise as much as a threat, probably in reference to the morbid fantasies you shared, and he vanishes into the shadows like a… ghost.

A/N : The real reason Ghost ran out:

He be googling “how to comfort female civilian age between 20 and **”

In the TF Group Chat (Price not included):

“We have an emergency.”

“Send as many kitten pics as possible to [Reader] … stat.”

[a-hazbin-reader]

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Alastor's craziness

Description: Alastor having to deal with Child!Reader and what their relationship is like

Alastor is somehow the best with children while simultaneously being the fucking worst

Sure he can entertain them easily, knows all the right things to say and think of fun games to keep them occupied

He can make them good food to eat, supply them with the proper clothes and protection

He'll even play along with all your little antics, act as your partner in crime

Knows how to make you smile after something has upset you, giving small head pats and singing you a song

Lil song and dance number

"You're never fully dressed~ Without a smile~"

Let's you in on his super duper big plans but you can't tell anybody or else it'll ruin the surprise

But he has no idea what a child actually needs in order to thrive

His idea of games are often just tossing you somewhere dangerous or letting you play on a death trap while he lazily watches you

Often times he forgets to feed you and when you inevitably complain of being hungry he tries to feed you the nearest sucker around

Alastor kids do NOT eat ppl

Cannibal children do

Okay well ppl meat doesn't have enough nutrients for a child

Fine

Puts you in clothes that will embarrass you to tears with how old and dorky they are

"Well it was in style when I was a kid!"

And he more than likely will traumatize you with his idea of 'protection', as if his demon form wasn't terrifying to normal adults

To top it all off...Alastor can probably only handle you in short bursts then pawns you off on someone else

It's nothing personal

You're just needy and grabby and loud and you're prone to tears and-

Well, children are just that way by design

So it's nothing personal

But he does have a soft spot for you and spoils you a little more than he would the average child

Gives you anything you ask for no matter if it's bad for you or if someone else already told you no

"Alastor! Can I have a cookie?"

"Of course my dear~"

"Uh Al? Vaggie already told them no..."

"Two cookies then!"

Alastor finds qualities in you that could be nurtured and puts effort into helping you grow your gifts

If you get into trouble then he helps you skirt the rules of your punishment

And lands the both of you in a time out

"I can't believe you dragged me into your punishment!"

"Alastor, that was your idea!"

When you start trying to make deals with everyone around the hotel, he is so PROUD

Sniff "they grow up so fast"

Covers your ears whenever anybody curses around you but casually teaches you how to properly cook a finger

If you're dirty then he'll hold you away from him with his staff, sidestepping your grubby hands

"Oh dear~! Someone needs a bath~"

Leaves the hard work to everyone else but happily does all the funs parts of hanging out with a kid

You're probably his favorite kid in all of Hell tho

[ruewrote]

𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑢𝑖𝑛𝑠.

PAIRING: tdc!gally x fem!reader WARNINGS: gally's death, no use of y/n GENRE: angst SONG INSPIRATION: i miss you by adele WORD COUNT: 928 A/N: this was really fast paced but i've had the end part in my mind for weeks now so sorry if its rushed :)

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they could never make you hate him, even after what happened to chuck.

as much as you wanted to, you just couldn’t do it. he had been your best friend, your crush, your rock, your lover. 

it was so good at first, maybe too good to be true, whatever it was it felt right with him. gally was the only thing in the glade keeping you sane, whole.

with thomas grabbing you by your waist, pulling you away from his body. gally giving you a last “it’s okay,” before you were snatched away from him. 

tears streaming down your cheeks as you reached out for him, squirming in thomas’s hold trying to free yourself, as you were both tugged through the exit by others in full combat gear.

you were finally out of the maze, but at what cost?

after his death, you were distant from the others except from newt. he always made sure you were eating and drinking, checking up on you when distanced yourself from everyone.

newt was like a brother to you, having him close helped, but then again what could he do for what only felt like heartache. 

your eyes swollen and puffy as tears rolled down your cheeks, trying to keep your sniffles muffled by the sleeve of your jacket as the others slept.

time heals. well that’s what people used to say, but you think that’s complete utter bullshit because how does this ever get better?

everytime you closed your eyes you could see him, his hand shakily holding the gun in thomas’s direction, his eyes full of tears, the infection spreading across his skin. then bang! jilting yourself out of bed, chest tightening, tears. it was the same cycle every time you slept.

feeling as it was almost selfish, you got to live, you got a chance to try to survive, but here you were here moping. losing winston only added to your heartache.

nearing the last city the sound of angered shouts echoed far, definitely too many for the eight of you to take on, so you got closer to figure out what to do next. 

gently pushing through the crowd, trying to get to the front to see what was happening. a hand covered your mouth, muffling you crying out for help. the other around your waist as the person who grabbed you lifted you off the ground.

the others were still ahead of you, not noticing what was happening, until it was too late. out of nowhere mini missiles were getting shot at the ground beside you, making the person who had you fumble, almost letting you go.

another person in a gas mask watched this happen, they started to grab your legs and dragged you towards a truck, if you were gonna go, you were gonna go kicking and screaming all the way.

“get off of her!” newt yelled, dragging the man who had your feet off of you, but another two came up behind him and got him too.

both of you were soon thrown into a beaten down blue truck, leaving you sat side by side, breathing heavily. a certain are you alright? look shared between the two of you before staring down the three armed, masked people in front of you.

the car ride tense and rocky as the vehicle drifted around corners, making you bump shoulders with newt. 

it soon came to an abrupt stop, the doors being pulled open and the two of you nudged out of it. looking around you, you could see an abandoned car park, thomas and brenda, multiple guys with masks.

the sounds of muffled fighting could be heard in the van beside you, then bursts out jumping on the person, jorge punching them.

shouting about where brenda was, but soon stopped when he found her.

“it’s alright, we’re on the same side,” 

thomas stepping closer, pushing you protectively behind him, “who the hell are you?”

after a long pause the unknown leader takes off his mask, “gally?” you mutter in disbelief, peeking out from behind thomas.

his eyes soften at the sight of you, “hey sweetheart,” giving you that familiar smile that you had missed so much. 

it doesn’t take long for you to bound up to him, throwing your arms around his neck, bringing him into a bone crushing hug. he hugged you back even tighter, lifting you off of the ground with ease.

you moved back just enough to look at his face, a soft smile danced over your lips as tears filled your eyes once again, “what the fuck. how is this real?”

“i’ll explain everything inside, c’mon,” he placed you back on the ground, grasping your hand in his own as he signalled the others to follow him.

bonus:

you were now cuddled up in bed with gally. your head on his chest, legs intertwined, his arm wrapped protectively around your waist pulling you closer to him.

“i never thought we’d have this again,” speaking softly as you looked up at him, “i really thought i lost you.” 

he gazes down at you, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, “whether you like it or not, i'm not going to give up on you…on us.”

“that’s what i like to hear,” you joke, playfully elbowing his side with your arm, earning a chuckle from him as you cuddled closer to each other.

for the first time in months you’d finally be able to sleep peacefully with him by your side again.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[beomboomboom]

Important

genre: fluff, angst, established relationship

pairing: idol!Jihoon x reader

summary: Jihoon is a busy guy, everyone knows that. But why does it hurt so much when he can't even make time for his own girlfriend? All you want is Jihoon's love and affection, why is that so difficult?

warnings: a bit of swearing

note: This fic includes some lyrics from the song All My Love by SEVENTEEN (If you haven't heard this song, I strongly recommend you listen to it. It's such a good song!!) I hope you enjoy reading the fic <33

"Am I really that important to you?"

There's tears in your eyes when you ask Jihoon the question you've been wondering about for the past few weeks.

Part of you knows you're just being irrational. Jihoon has other things he needs to focus on. He's an idol and a producer for fucks sake, it's practically guaranteed that he's going to be busy with work 24/7. So it's unrealistic for you to expect him to be able to make time for you whenever you feel the need for some company.

But the other part of you feels lonely. Coming home everyday to the sight of an empty apartment without Jihoon isn't exactly the most uplifting sight to see. And even when Jihoon on the rare occasion, does come home, all you are able to see is his passed out figure before he leaves in the morning while you still sleep.

All you want is Jihoon's love and affection, why is that so hard?

You receive your answer to that very question in the way Jihoon sits in a distracted silence when he hears your question. His eyes looking at his computer in a daze, too busy thinking up of ideas for new songs to produce rather than looking at the way you're about to burst into tears.

"Fine. If you can't even give me one second of your time and focus I'm going to leave," you yell angrily as more tears spring into your eyes. You quickly stand up from your position on Jihoon's couch and exit his studio, slamming the door behind you.

"WAI-" Jihoon starts to shout, finally finding his voice. His eyes widen while his hand is outstretched toward the direction of his door as if it's going to make you come back.

But it's too late.

You're gone.

Jihoon knows he fucked up.

More than that actually.

He knows that it's his fault your relationship with him feels so one-sided. He has a habit of overworking himself. Oftentimes minutes in the studio turning into hours before turning into days of being cooped up producing songs, causing him to neglect the very people he wants to spend all his time with.

Jihoon wishes he could tell you how much he loves you, that he's not trying to neglect you on purpose. He just sometimes gets caught up in his work and doesn't realize when it's time to take a break. He wishes he could tell you that he misses you as much as you miss him, even though he doesn't show it.

But now he has no idea what he could possibly do to solve the predicament he's in. Jihoon could talk with you, but he knows he's not the best with confrontation. Jihoon could give you a few days of space, but he knows that it's probably not the best choice since the whole reason you got mad was because Jihoon wasn't around you enough.

So, Jihoon turns to what he's best at doing. What he does when he doesn't have a clue on what to do.

Songwriting.

Sometimes he'll write songs for his members, comforting them through his lyrics. Other times he'll write songs for Carats, wanting to share with them some encouraging and happy tunes.

But this time, he's writing a song for you.

Jihoon knows that writing a song for you won't make you forgive him instantly, but the most he can do is try to make things better a little bit at a time.

It's 3 in the morning when you hear a knock at your front door. As the rain falls softly on your window, the only question that on your mind is, who the heck is outside your house at such an ungodly hour?

Feet shuffling along the cold floor, you sleepily walk over to your door and open it. Your sleepy eyes are still trying to make sense of the situation when Jihoon stands outside your apartment door.

In front of you stands a drenched Jihoon with puffy red eyes carrying his signature black backpack that is absolutely ginormous on him.

"Jihoon? What are you doing here?"

Mumbling something incoherently, you watch, still half-awake, as Jihoon slowly walks up to you and gently wraps his arms around you.

As you feel the wetness from Jihoon's shirt begin to seep into your own shirt, you try to softly push Jihoon away. But that only makes Jihoon hug you tighter. "Don't go...,"you hear him mumble as he presses his face into the crook of your neck, and that's when you realize that Jihoon is crying.

You're torn.

Seeing your boyfriend cry is a rare occurence and as much as you want to hug him tightly and kiss away all his tears, you want to run away because how can he come back to your apartment as if nothing had happened in these past few months.

"I'm sorry," Jihoon says, his voice cracking and mouth quivering, as he cries, letting his tears drop messily into the fabric of your shirt.

Taking Jihoon's face in your hands, you quietly rub away his tears which only makes him cry harder. Leaning into your touch, he takes hold of your wrist and gently rubs it. "I-I'm really sorry. You don't deserve a terrible boyfriend like me."

"No, don't say that. You know what, how about I get you a towel so that you can dry yourself off and then we can talk more, okay?

"Okay"

By the time you return from the bathroom, towel in hand, Jihoon is sitting on the couch and pulling his computer out of his bag. "oh...are you going to be working more?"

He can hear the disappointment in your voice when you ask the question, you're so used to him working all the time that you're not even angry ... you're just disappointed. Jihoon feels a wave of guilt wash over him as he realizes that all the things you said to him before were true, he was just too busy to realize it.

"Ah, no. I have something to show you," Jihoon says with a tired smile as he pats the seat on the couch beside him, inviting you to sit.

Hesitant, you take a seat next to your boyfriend and look at his computer screen where you can see him open a file. You then watch as Jihoon pulls out a pair of earphones and plugs them into the computer.

Putting the earbuds into your ears, Jihoon presses play as his eyes shake, nervously watching your face for any kind of reaction.

The second the melody of the song plays into your ears, you feel like crying out of disbelief. "You made a song for me?" you ask, suprise etched all over your face, as you look towards Jihoon's direction.

Nodding with a small but nervous smile, Jihoon then motions for you to continue listening.

And it's when you reach the part of the song where you can hear the lyrics sung by the sweet honey voice of your boyfriend, when you begin to cry.

Just likе a pouring meteor shower Please be the light in the dark sky I can do everything for you For you I just want to give you everything And that makes me feel small, a fool who only accepts It suddenly makes me hate myself And makes me feel sorrier towards you

"Oh- Jihoon-," you start to say with tears in your eyes as you close the gap between you and Jihoon and give him a tight hug, your face pressed against his chest. "This is beautiful," you continue on to say sincerely.

Blushing, Jihoon quietly mutters with a nervous laugh, "you haven't even finished the song, listen to what i'm trying to say."

Following Jihoon's instructions, you lean on him and quickly refocus your attention back on the song.

Though it was hard writing my feelings down And all I have is this song and these lyrics For you, for you, for you, for you I sing this song for you tonight So I can get closer to your love

My love only amounts to this But my feelings will never change, for you baby Even if my love only amounts to this I'll be your umbrella in the rain I'll protect you on all your days

By the time you finish listening to Jihoon's song for you, you're in shambles. "fuck- Jihoon, I love you so much you know? I'm still mad at you but I still love you so much," you say as tears roll down your cheeks. Pressing your forehead against Jihoon's, you lean in to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

Jihoon freezes for a moment before immediately tugging you closer to his body and reciprocating your kiss. "I don't deserve someone as precious as you,"he whispers before devouring your lips into another kiss.

When both you and Jihoon finally break away from each other to get some oxygen into your lungs, Jihoon gently takes your hands into his own. "I-I'm really sorry though. I was a terrible boyfriend these past few months, but I'm going to work on trying to improve myself. Even though I'll probably be busy with producing songs, i'll try to make time for you."

You let out a relived smile when you hear Jihoon's sincere words. "Okay, and I understand if you need time for other things too."

Jihoon gives you a small nod and a smile. "And to answer your previous question, of course you're important to me. For fucks sake you're my girlfriend, you're one of the most important people in my life. How can you not be important to me?" Jihoon says while cupping your face before continuing on to say," just because I don't show it, doesn't mean I don't feel it."

"I love you," he finally whispers with a smile as he places a small peck on your lips.

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

# day 1 — dp 1 hole.

s. having the attention of two of liyue's strongest women isn't so bad when they keep you as their pretty pet.

cw. fem!reader, sub!reader, dp 1 hole, threesome, squirting, pegging, use of strap-ons, cervical stimulation, overstimulation, multiple rounds & dirty talk.

wc. 2154

You’d never really enjoyed attending the high-end parties that were hosted in Yujing Terrace, seeing as how a good majority of them were held for business reasons. Those were the absolute worst, with the suffocating stiffness drowning out any possibility of having any real fun. Thankfully, tonight’s party had been one of the rare occasions where no one was concerned about the other's so-called “status” and the mood was a lot more livelier. Even the normally stuck-up elites seemed to be more relaxed, though you suspect it’s because of the plentiful amount of champagne they’d indulged in.

Beidou hadn’t taken her eyes off of you the entire night ever since she’d seen you wearing that beautifully exquisite dress which perfectly accentuated your body in all the right ways. It was a gift from Ningguang, and an expensive one at that, so it’d be a waste to not show off. You’d seen her watching you with playful smirks and sending winks your way, to which you gave her your best coy smile and pretty flutter of your eyes.

Beidou always likes it when you tease her back. It always gets her all riled up, and you quite like it when your pretty little smiles get the captain all hot and bothered. It makes everything so much more fun.

Nigguang was much more subtle than the captain, her methods far more sneaky and sensual, but just as exciting and fun. When everyone was too busy enjoying themselves and chatting up a storm, she appeared by your side, sporting her usual sultry smile. Her voice is like a siren song, gloved fingers gliding along your shoulder as she whispers about how badly she wants to take you, how she wants to utterly ruin her sweet little toy, and so many other intoxicating words that make your head woozy with need. And just as quickly as she arrived, she left your side, only giving you another smile as she sauntered off.

Ningguang always likes it when you react so nicely to her sultry words. Knowing that you’d be stewing in your arousal with no relief until she provides it, gives the Tianquan quite the tantalizing thrill.

And of course, they cornered you when you’d least suspected it, exchanging knowing looks while they murmured sinful words and caressed you with enticing touches as they ushered you away so they could act on their intentions—

Beidou is under you now, barely moving, lazily grinning as she watches you quiver rapidly. You’d just let out a shrill cry, eyes now puffy with fat tears staining your cheeks as you so desperately tried to accommodate both of their sizes in your cunt. The strap-on that Beidou sports is thick, heavy, and brushed up against your g-spot without any effort; and Ningguang’s is long, slender, and a little too curved in a way that meant she hit your cervix each time.

“Hey, you gotta keep your voice down sweetheart,” Beidou chuckles heartily, giving your thigh a firm squeeze. “Don’t want anyone hearing ya and walking in on us.”

She’s right, as the party is still technically going on outside. Just barely above the loud buzzing in your ears, you can hear the clamor of the crowd and flowing music. But you could care less about the crowd outside and any potential intrusions on your sweet little afterparty. All that is on your mind is Beidou and Ningguang, and being their pretty little toy.

“M’sorry, f-forgive me…” Despite your timid plea, you were bursting with joy—you were just so happy to have your cunt filled to the brim—as evidenced by the woozy grin on your face.

“Oh my, you’re such a needy little whore aren’t you?” Ningguang croons, amused at the way you unconsciously grind your hips against their shafts, and she even thrusts into you—and oh, does she love how you moan when she does. “A shame I couldn’t arrange a punishment for you. But I’m sure that a toy like you would enjoy it.”

Beidou snorts so loudly that you jump in surprise—and you squeak in reaction to the movement of the two lengths that slide in just a bit deeper.

“Ugh, always on about punishments and whatnot. If you’re always doing that kind of crap, then it just gets boring after a while.”

“You’re one to complain, Captain Beidou.” The aforementioned woman rolls her eyes hard at the use of her title.”Don’t think I haven’t forgotten all of those times you would fuck (name) relentlessly just because some of your crew had flirted with her. Or when you’d done it in a public place. Such insolence.”

“You’re no fun at all, Tianquan. You sometimes gotta live a little.” Beidou huffed. Ningguang just smiled at her. “Besides, (name) enjoyed it, pretty girl even begged for me to do it again.”

“Did she now?” Her attention is back on you and you can feel the smirk growing on her lips before she hums. “As expected of our sweet pet, she even enjoys it in public, of all places. I suppose I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

“Make sure to invite me. I might get a bit jealous if you hog her the whole time.” Ningguang just snorts in response.

Having paid little attention to their quarrel (they’d always go back and forth like this even when you weren’t involved), you’re far too focused on rolling your hips, testing your body’s readiness for what is to come. It doesn’t matter that your cunt is still aching a bit—you need to be fucked like the little slut you are.

“Oh? Want us to move now?” The pirate beneath you raises her eyebrows, lips upturned with mirth.

“Y-yes, please move, I want it s’badly..”

And move they do. Their movements are a bit awkward, what with how they're positioned and how you try to grind against both lengths simultaneously, but they seem to get the hang of it. With your clit smooshed up against Beidou’s groin, the friction gets you even wetter, allowing the two women’s movements to be smoother. You can’t see what kind of face Ningguang is making, with how she pushes into you deep, deep enough for the slender tip to be giving your cervix little love pecks; and Beidou has a good view to watch your pussy swallow up her strap-on greedily, grinning at how soaked you are.

“Can’t believe you’re taking us so well. It’s like you were made for us,” she marvels, delivering the compliment with a playful squeeze of your thigh—she knows that your thighs were a weak point and had no qualms about teasing you just for you to whimper and jolt from sensitivity. She enjoys your yelps, loving the pleasured faces you make with hardly any shame. “You’re so wet. You must��ve really wanted us that badly huh?”

You blink back tears and nod fervently. Your panties were practically drenched by the time the two women had dragged you away. “M-mhmm, I wanted you s’much, felt like I’d die if you didn’t fuck me.♡”

And it’s the truth; if they hadn’t whisked you away when they did, you might’ve really died from how aroused and pent-up they’d left you. You know, that might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration on your part, but it was really hard to keep a straight face while you were dripping enough arousal that it had already begun to drip down your legs. And of course, Beidou responds positively like she always does, grinning her usual wide smile, though much sexier (if that was even really possible, she was already super sexy as is).

“You’re so cute, y’know that? You’re such a doll. Makes me wanna fuck you senseless until you can’t walk anymore,” she tells you, looking as if she wants to kiss you because you’re such a cutie. You do her the favor and sloppily kiss her yourself, having to lower the weight of your trembling body on hers. She doesn’t seem to mind, with her hums of amusement vibrating into your mouth as she dominates the kiss.

Beidou was always more fond of kissing than Ningguang, claiming that you were simply too cute for her to resist and she really couldn’t help herself. Not that Ningguang was one to indulge in such an intimate action, but when she did kiss you, it was the best feeling in the world. Kissing her was a very special privilege if you’d been especially good for her and she was feeling rather generous.

But it’s a bit hard to focus on the kiss when Ningguang pushes forward with a particularly deep thrust, and you have to break away so you can gasp and moan. Sometimes she gets a bit irked if you pay more attention to Beidou than her (no, no, not jealous, that’s not the correct word even if it’s kind of the truth), so she just angles herself to bully all your sweet spots—because she knows that you’ll be a goner if she keeps grazing your cervix.

Ningguang presses a kiss on the small of your back as she presses her entire upper body on top of you. This position seems to be a bit easier for her, especially on her back. The insides of your cunt are going crazy; squeezing, fluttering about from the pleasurable assault on your body—their shafts are compressed tightly in your walls and pressed snugly together. It’s so good, it’s too good..!♡

“Bei..dou, Ninggu—f-feelsh so good, wanna..” You wanna cum so badly. Even if they hadn’t fucked you for too long, you can’t help yourself in begging for release like the needy toy you are. The begging was also required since Ningguang wouldn’t be too pleased if you came before she said so. “Please, m’so full, s’so good…”

“It's alright.” Ningguang’s voice is a honey-sweet melody against your ear, arms wrapped tight around you as if you’re her stability. “You’ve been good for us today.”

And, like the well-trained dog you come off like, you finally cum, and it hits you hard. Your release gushes out from you violently, drenching Beidou’s abdomen and soaking into the bedsheets below. Consequently, you end up collapsing back down for good, tugging Ningguang’s shaft forward with you. You’d been so pent-up from tonight’s earlier events; the anticipation of getting your cunt fucked how it was meant to be having done absolute wonders for you. Even if you had rubbed your thighs together or taken a sip of cold water, none of it did anything to soothe the aching heat of your needy pussy.

But despite your intense orgasm, neither woman slows their movements; they move harder, burying themselves so deep that it doesn’t seem healthy but sure as hell feels good. With your hypersensitivity, the pleasure feels so good that it hurts. And yet you want more.

“You may be done. We’re not.” And Ningguang? She leans up, and nips at the side of your neck. It was pretty typical for Beidou to bite your shoulder when she was getting really into it, but when Ningguang bites, it stings, like the whole point was to hurt. At least it snaps you out of your stupor—you gasp, moan, beg for more (oh they both really like it when you act so needy for them like the dumb whore you are), and do whatever you can to satisfy them. Grind down into Beidou, wiggle your hips to make Ningguang go harder, and show them how good of a pretty little toy you can be for them. Overstimulation and exhaustion be damned; you were getting fucked regardless.

"Little.. more..." Ningguang gasps, and in response Beidou seizes your hips—and if she was adamant about shaping your pussy into her shape before, then now she’s engraving Ningguang’s into your walls as well. She's picking you up, pushing you down, treating you more like a hole to fuck rather than a person as her head is thrown back, and Ningguang buries her face into your neck, moans becoming breathier with a hitch and—

“Fuck, you’re so tight, better not pass out—”

You wouldn’t dare; neither one of them would allow you to just drop out when you were just getting started. You know, on the off-chance that Beidou's thrusting or all that dirty talk or the reminders of how filthy a girl you are for fucking two of Liyue's most renowned women isn’t enough to have set you off already.

Both women groaned in satisfaction, finally pumping their hips, hard, sharp thrusts to make you come for them and finish themselves. When you're freed from the kiss, Beidou looks relaxed. At ease.

They both still, panting heavily as they sink down bonelessly, soaking in the afterglow of the intense session. The air is filled with heavy gasps, faint moans, and whimpers (though most of the noise is courtesy of you).

After a while, Beidou speaks up.

“So, how ‘bout another round?”

🏷. @lakeside-paradise @sakurakiko @arissecretstash

© latimeriafellfromheaven

[cntloup]

one-night stand your first date :)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“Hey!” you greet him with a welcoming smile, your gaze lingering on his scar-adorned features and his mysteriously alluring eyes, nearly knocking the air out of your lungs. 

“Hey...” he responds, holding your riveted glare as if you’re the most enchanting soul to ever walk the earth. 

(you both just stand there like idiots staring at each other with heart eyes for a good few minutes) 

He called you to say he’s gonna take you to the pub with his mates. 

He didn’t even ask you, only told you to message him the address and that he’s gonna pick you up. 

(what a freak! I love him!! and yes he takes you to meet the lads on your first date because they're the closest thing to a family he's got so he wants you to meet them asap and he's already planned your wedding in his mind!!) 

“Umm... these are for you!” he mumbles, holding out the bouquet of flowers he got you, his unwavering stare still fixated on you. 

(he asked Gaz what to get you and he said the simple old-fashioned flowers are the best way to go)

“Oh! These are beautiful! Thank you so much!” you exclaim, almost tearing up as you take the flowers with a grateful nod.

(spending a good few more minutes staring at the flowers while sobbing, the poor lad thinks he did something wrong!) 

“Fuck! Sorry! I love them! Thank you... again!” you ramble and chuckle nervously while furiously wiping your tears with your sleeve and turn back to go inside and put the flowers in a vase. 

“So? Where to?” you ask excitedly when you walk back to the door, “To the pub. Near my place. About 20 minutes from here.” he states matter of factly, yet somehow it sounds intriguing. Maybe it’s just his voice that makes everything sound so... so... (idk man his voice just does something to me) 

He leads you to his car, a Range Rover Velar, suitable for a guy like him; it holds an intimidating and mysterious aura paired with a rough and tough attitude, yet maintaining a sense of style, captivating. 

He opens the door for you and the moment you step inside, a mixed aroma of whiskey and leather reaches your nose, intoxicating. 

He lets you pick the songs during the whole drive and sing along off-key while he chuckles at you, surprisingly not annoyed one bit. On the contrary, his heart might just burst out of his chest. 

Once you arrive at the pub, he has his hand on the small of your back, leading you to their usual cozy spot. 

You take a seat in the far corner of the booth and he sits beside you, resting his arm on the back of the chair behind your head and leaning closer to you to introduce everyone through the loud music. 

The faint smell of pine, bourbon and tobacco takes over your senses, the low timbre of his voice and the soft brush of his fingers on the back of your neck, already making your head cloudy and your heart flutter. 

As night carries on, you can feel the warmth in your heart turn into seething flames, engulfing your soul as he shifts closer and closer to you, his arm now wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

His head is turned towards you all throughout the night, occasionally making sarcastic remarks and smiling proudly as you laugh, your beautiful laugh making him adore you even more if that’s even possible. 

He takes you back home before midnight, his paranoia creeping up on him out of nowhere and cursing himself for endangering your life even though nothing even remotely dangerous has occurred. 

He kisses you at your doorstep, his kiss so sweet and tender, melting your heart right at the spot. 

“Good night, dove.” he murmurs while softly caressing your cheek, “G’night, Si.” you whisper back with a hazy smile as if in a trance, absolutely smitten, bewitched even. 

He stays by your door and asks you to text him when you’re inside. 

He stays a few more minutes after you text, observing the surroundings to make sure no one has followed you. 

And he leaves with a newfound emotion enfolding him, reviving his cold, dead heart as he thought it was. 

[tomssexdoll]

When I was your man

PAIRINGS: Tom 2009 x Female reader CONTENT: ANGST + FLUFF + SMUT SYPNOSIS: Tom and Y/N broke up, after 2 years of dating she finally had enough of his shitty behaviour. Tom starts to see her everywhere and deeply regrets his actions, crying for you every night. One night he sees you at a bar, dancing with another man and he approaches you. A/N: inspired by when I was your man by bruno mars WARNINGS: dom! tom, sub!reader, eating out, alcohol mentions, fingering

Me and Y/N broke up a month ago, she couldn't deal with my shitty behaviour she said, complaining about how I treat her. When I refused to apologise she took her things and left, texting me later that we were over.

As soon as I saw her say that I burst into tears, realizing my shitty actions towards her.

I went to bed that night but it didn't feel right. It was the same bed but it felt just a little bit bigger, more empty without her, cold and lonely.

I hear our song on the radio but it doesn't sound the same. The song we had our first kiss to, lost our virginities to, countless of memories wasted all because of me.

When my friends talk about her all it does is just tear me down, cause my heart breaks a little when I hear her name.

I've been super depressed after the breakup, not being able to sleep properly and not eating. All I wanted was her, to hold her, caress her soft skin, kiss and appreciate her. But she was gone, and I didn't know how long it'd be until I could have her in my arms again.

My pride, my ego, my needs and my selfish ways, caused a good strong woman like her to walk out of my life, and it haunts me everytime I close my eyes.

I couldn't just set my selfishness down for a second, I was a fucking idiot, treating the kindest and most beautiful girl like shit, disregarding her feelings, gaslighting her and neglecting her. I looked at twitter, seeing headlines of her with another guy.

I sobbed and sobbed, crying my eyes out, seeing her already moved on. I knew I deserved it but I wanted her back so badly, she was my everything, my baby, my world. I wish I could turn back time and just start all over again, make her feel like the only girl in the world, make her feel special and loved.

One day I decided to go to a bar and drink my sorrows away, running out of all the alcohol in my house that I drowned myself in. I sat down, ordering a couple shots of whiskey, downing them within seconds.

I turned around to see everyone dancing, sweaty bodies pressed up against each other, making me remember the special moments we shared in this bar, tears welled up in my eyes again.

Then suddenly I saw her, Y/N was there, she was so beautiful, so stunning. Her features glowing from the flashing lights, curves showing off in her sexy dress. My baby was dancing like she loved to do, but she was dancing with another man, he smiled at her, holding her close and kissing her gently.

My eyes widened and I stared there in shock, it felt like the world stopped, like everything went silent. She swayed her hips, grinding into him. She looked like she was having so much fun.

I stepped closer, the lights now hitting me. She turned and looked at me, her eyes widening and her movements haltering. We just stared at each other for a while, she eventually rolled her eyes and excused herself, walking off. I ran after her, calling out for her.

Eventually I grabbed onto her arm, looking down at her "baby..please" I choked out a sob, she pushed me off "get off me Tom, I told you we're over.." she mumbled, not being able to look me in the eyes.

I noticed how she quickly wiped a tear from her cheek, I grabbed her chin and lifted it to look at me, "I know im probably much too late, to try and apologise for my mistakes" I sighed "but i just want you to know, I hope he buys you flowers and holds your hand, gives you all his hours, take you to every party cause i remember how much you loved to dance, do all the things i've should've done..when i was your man.."

Tears welled up in her eyes, she hugged me tightly and sobbed into my chest, "oh tom..I missed you so much" I smiled and stroked her hair. "Let's go outside baby..talk about things better, hm?" I mumbled against her hair, she nodded and took my hand, leading my outside and leaving the guy she was with.

We walked to my car and got in, blasting the heating. "He's not with me or anything..i've been hooking up with him for like 2 weeks and I figured paparazzi might have been there to take photos and make you jealous.." she crossed her arms, frowning.

"I deserve it though, I treated you badly baby, you didn't deserve to go through what you did" I held her hand, rubbing my thumb over the skin softly, "maybe you can give me another chance? I swear I'll change baby, it won't be like the other times, I need to prove to you that I can change, I can be a better man for you" I started to cry again, she winced and got onto my lap, wiping my tears away and kissing me softly.

"I'm an idiot for forgiving you again..but fuck you seem so sincere.." she sighed, smiling softly. "I'll do anything for you baby, name it and i'll do it, I just can't lose you" I said, my voice shaky, rough with emotion.

"I haven't been able to function without you, you complete my world" I caressed her cheek. "Let's go home, I'm tired of living out of a shitty hotel" she giggled, climbing into the passanger seat again.

As we got home she rushed in, running onto our shared bed, "fuck..how I missed this bed" she rolled around in it, I smiled and walked in, laying next to her.

"Tom..?" she turned to me, "yes schatz?" I pulled her closer, looking down at her. "Why did you treat me so badly?" her question hit hard, I didn't really know myself. "Uh..I don't know..I was just stupid and I didn't appreciate the wonderful woman I had in front of me, I was a little intimidated, you were way too good for me and I just thought sabotaging everything would make it better, which now I see was fucking stupid" I groaned, rubbing my temples in frustration.

"I'm just glad you eventually saw how it affected me, I missed you a lot I will admit but I was also hurt and I still am" I nodded, "I know baby..and I'm so sorry, I wish I could take back all the pain" I said, reaching out and grabbing her hips, rubbing them softly.

"You know I'd do anything for you, I would take a bullet straight through my brain just to prove my love to you." She chuckled "baby..chill out" I smirked "sorry..I just want you to know how much I love and appreciate you"

She climbed on top of me, tracing my features with her delicate fingers. "There will be no sunlight if I lose you baby, just like the clouds my eyes will do the same, if you walk away everyday it'll rain" I kissed her softly, she smiled "Tom that's beautiful.." she whispered and kissed me back.

I flipped us over, me hovering over her. "Let me give you the love you deserve, make you feel beautiful.." she nodded and slowly unbuttoned her shirt, revealing black lacey bra.

My head dove into her chest, kissing and sucking softly.

She moaned softly, delicate sounds coming out of her beautiful lips. I reached down and removed her skirt. Her beautiful figure underneath me.

My fingers traced her curves softly, appreciating her beauty. "So, so beautiful..my angel" I whispered, kissing down her stomach and planting a soft kiss on her panties, her hips bucking up slightly.

"Tom..don't tease" she whined, I chuckled and slid her panties off, bending her legs and prying her thighs apart, licking a stripe on her folds, collecting her juices.

I slowly lapped my tongue onto her her clit, sucking softly, "mm!" she moaned loudly, gripping onto the sheets tightly. I smirked, happy to see her so pleasured.

I sneaked my hand up, entering 2 digits into her wetness, stretching her out. "Oh fuck!" she groaned as my fingers curled at her g spot, "is it good baby?" I teased, she nodded and screwed her eyes shut, focusing on the pleasure.

My fingers found their rhythm inside her, thrusting in and out. I could feel her release slowly approaching, her breath coming in short gasps. I increased the pressure on her clit, sucking harder as I felt her about to climax.

I could tell I was driving her wild, her head lolled back and her eyes were tightly shut, legs slightly trembling. "Cum for me baby.." I moaned on her clit, slobbering all over it.

I felt her pussy clench against my fingers as she came hard, a loud high pitched moan leaving her mouth. "So good.." I chuckled, licking up all her juices and climbing up to hover over her again.

I grabbed my clothed erection, "do you want it baby?" she nodded quickly, grabbing at my pants and shoving them off. I grinned at her urgency, pulling my cock out of my boxers and pumping it a few times.

"Can't wait to be inside you again.." I groaned, pressing my tip at her entrance, slowly pushing in. It had been a while since we last fucked, her "hookups" obviously not as big as me.

She cried out, holding onto me tightly, "fuck!", I dragged my hand down to her clit, rubbing slow circles to let her relax. I felt her pussy unclench on my cock, finally being able to thrust in better.

I slowly thrusted, gradually picking up my pace so I didn't hurt her.

Eventually my cock was pounding into her, my grip tight on her hips, holding her into place. "Fuck..so tight" I groaned, my head rolling back.

"Mmm! Fuck!" she moaned, feeling my tip hit her g spot, I leaned down and started to suck her nipples softly, earning a loud groan from her. My tongue swirled against her sensitive buds, making her throw her head back.

"Cum for me pretty girl.." I grunted, picking up my pace again and slamming into her, the tension building in my stomach as I felt my release approach, nails digging into her hips.

"Mmh! Oh shit!" she cried out, wrapping her arms around me and holding me close, her pussy clenching around my cock, increasing the amount of pleasure I was recieving.

I felt her body shudder under me, her orgasm washing over her and her juices painting my cock, I groaned and came inside her, shooting my load deep into her and making sure to keep thrusting so it could stay in.

I sighed and collapsed on top of her, cock still buried deep inside her hole. "I missed you so much baby..I swear i'll never ever hurt you again, I was so stupid to treat you that way" I winced "please forgive me and take me back.." she frowned at my pain, kissing me softly.

"I know you're sorry baby, it'll take a while for me to trust you again but we can try one more time, don't blow it" she sighed, I sighed in relief, peppering kisses all over her face and flipping us over so that she was on top of my chest, "get some rest baby" I whispered into her hair.

tags: @itsmealaiah @tomkaulitzloverr @tomscumdump @tomscumdoll @bkaulitzlover @ballhair @estxkios @ge-billsgf @charliesgoodboy

[brandogenius]

can I request a hc about attending an awards show (the grammys?) with jb? 😌

i can indeed darling! i’m so proud of our boys! 3 grammys they won today! couldn’t be any more prouder!

(not proofread)

HC - attending the grammys with julien!

- attending the grammys with julien is a once in a life time experience you’ll never forget

- hand in hand for photos, julien dressed in her white suit whilst you are dressed in a long black dress. black and white they compliment each other

- of course both of you break the internet by proudly showing off your hickeys on each others necks

- the atmosphere is so loud and overwhelming , it’s your first time at an award show, julien has her hands around your waist at all times.

- in a protective manner and to make sure you don’t get lost. hands on your waist or thigh. holding onto your hand. she’ll make sure you don’t get lost.

- presuming you and the boys all sit together at a table, julien and you sit beside each other. juliens hand on your thigh, reassuring you.

- holding onto juliens hand tightly with one hand and crossing your fingers in a silent prayer in the other when their categories come up

- the minute they were best rock performance winners for not strong enough you just started sobbing.

- the first thing julien does is stand up and hug you. kissing you long and softly before going up to collect her award.

- the first person julien thanks in her speech is you. talking about how you have been her rock and the most important people in her life to help her get through it all

- “i want to thank my beautiful girlfriend. the most important person to me”

- going back to their chairs after the speeches you’re dabbing your face to try and stop the tears.

- it’s such an emotional night for you and the boys. you’re so proud of them.

- second and third award for best rock song and best alternative album has you crying again you’re sure your makeup is ruined.

- yet again, julien stands up and kisses you smiling into the kiss.

- it was such an amazing night for everyone.

- going back stage with julien after the event julien holds into your hand tightly, tears stained on her face with a big grin.

- your lipstick is stained all over her face but she couldn’t care less.

- she ends up dragging you in with her to take some photos even if you ended up being a bit shy.

- spam posting on twitter during intervals you tweet about the boys winning and crying about it. rting a lot of posts

- you have a bit of a big following on twitter anyway. most of it being from being juliens girlfriend and boygenius’s no1 defender.

- boygenius twt fandom loves you. so crying on the timeline about your girlfriend winning a grammy has multiple other people crying in the comments section with you

- julien posting photos on instagram with you holding the grammys together

- going back to the hotel together both of you are still pretty emotional from the events that happened

- a tired and sleepy bath together. washing each others hair

- “i’m so proud of you julien. couldn’t be more prouder”

- the praise you give your girlfriend along with the tiredness crashing into her from the adrenaline that happened a few hours ago has her tearing up in the bathtub

- just a small emotional moment. julien realising where she is in the moment. 3 time grammy winner, in a warm bath surrounded by love and affection. it makes her heart burst with happiness

- she definitely becomes the little spoon for the night.

- the wave of emotion hitting her like a ton of bricks realising the events of today like a delayed reaction has her silently crying in your neck

- obviously you let her have her moment. letting julien melt into your chest as you run your hands through her hair. julien slowly falling asleep to the sounds of your small hums and praises

- you can only pray that next year there’ll be more grammy nominations and wins to come

im so sorry if this isn’t good :( a bit rushed! i reallt felt excited to do this and with the boys grammy wins tonight it was fresh in my mind!

[666writingcafe]

Banshee

MC

Hearing faint noise coming from within the House of Lamentation as I approach the front door is nothing new. At least one of the brothers is in the middle of doing something loudly whenever I arrive, and depending on what it is, I either help them out or stop them before they go too far.

That, however, doesn't prepare me for the continuous high-pitched wailing that assaults my ears the minute I open the door. If it weren't for Beel running outside and slamming the door behind him seconds later, I'm sure my eardrums would have burst and began bleeding. Whatever it is, it's that loud.

He puts his back against the door, trying to catch his breath. Once he's composed, I ask him,

"What the hell is going on in there? Why is someone yelling at the top of their lungs?" The shock is evident in his eyes as he glances over at me.

"You can hear it too?" Well, this isn't good. Either we've both gone completely mad, or the thing in question is specifically targeting the two of us.

"Of course I can. My ears are still ringing from all the screaming." Beel sighs in relief.

"Thank Father...I thought I was going crazy. The others certainly look at me that way. I'm sure once they figure out that I'm no longer inside, they're going to start freaking out and worrying that I'm on another rampage, but that honestly isn't my intention. I just was going to run as far away from it as I could."

"Would a long walk be enough? I'm not nearly as fast as you are, plus it'll give us a chance to talk more about what happened, if that's something you feel like doing." Beel nods his head, and I extend my hand out to him as we walk away from the House.

~~~

We end up sitting on a park bench in a secluded corner of one of my favorite parks in the Devildom. It's relatively unknown, so not many people frequent it, and this particular area is partially hidden by some thick foliage. All in all, a near perfect place to have a private conversation without someone eavesdropping.

"So, let's start from the beginning," I instruct Beel. "What events led to someone shrieking like that?" He sighs.

"My brothers were coming up with ideas to prank Lucifer. He's spending the afternoon at the castle, you see, and they figured they could do something before you were supposed to arrive."

"So, basically take advantage of the lack of adult supervision." He snorts in amusement.

"Pretty much, yeah. You and Lucifer are the two responsible ones. The rest of us give in to temptation far too easily." Lucifer does too, but Beel doesn't need to know that. The shenanigans his brother gets up to when he thinks no one is watching him aren't exactly pertinent to this conversation.

"Anyway, Satan suggested summoning a Hellfire Salamander in Lucifer's room, and I knew I wanted no part of it," Beel continues. "Those things make dragons look tame in comparison. If one set something of Lucifer's on fire..."

"You didn't want to be on the hook for it," I reply.

"Exactly. So, as everyone else ventured to his room, I decided to head towards the kitchen. I was feeling a bit peckish anyway, but also I knew I wouldn't get in nearly as much trouble if I got caught rummaging through the fridge."

"Makes sense."

"Unfortunately, right when I figured out something to eat, I heard this awful scream. Instead of summoning a Hellfire Salamander, they accidentally brought a banshee inside the House." Beel pauses. "That's what set me off the first time, when you found me in the colosseum. Diavolo had gifted Lucifer a record of a banshee's song, and he asked if he could have it played during dinner. Most people would only hear melodic wailing. I heard and felt its pain, and it overwhelmed me, especially since it reminded me of..." He trails off as he closes his eyes and begins taking deep breaths, tears threatening to spill.

There are two types of people that can hear a banshee scream: those about to die, and those close to individuals on the brink of death. If you remain alive afterwards, you're forced to listen to their every wail and shriek for the rest of your life. To say that it's unpleasant would be quite the understatement.

It doesn't explain how I can hear it, though. Perhaps getting Beel to talk about his experience will help me figure that out.

"Reminded you of what?" I gently prompt. Understandably, he takes a while to respond. For one, it must have been a pretty traumatic event if it's making Beel this upset, but also he and I aren't as close here as we are in my timeline. In fact, I think this is the most he's ever spoken to me since I've arrived.

"It's okay if you don't want to tell me--"

"It's not that," Beel interrupts, opening his eyes again. "If anyone could understand, it's you, and I'm sure talking about it will help me feel a bit better. It's just...I haven't shared this before, not even to my brothers."

"I can keep a secret." He softly smiles.

"I know." Another deep breath, then,

"The first time I heard a banshee's cry was in the human world. Michael had sent me there to complete a task. I forget what it was, but at this point it really doesn't matter. All I know is that on my way back to the portal, the banshee began screaming. It scared me so much that I ran in the opposite direction of the portal and ended up getting lost, causing me to return to the Celestial Realm much later than I was supposed to. I wasn't even allowed to explain myself; both Michael and Raphael took turns reprimanding me. I think that might have been the last straw for Lucifer, because the next day marked the start of the war." Momentary silence.

"There should be eight of us down here, not seven," Beel quietly adds. "We lost our sister in the fray. She and Belphie were both in a precarious position, and I only had time to save one of them." A couple tears fall from his eyes.

"I know that by the time I heard the scream that it was too late to change her future, but there's a part of me that feels like I could have prevented her from dying. I miss her dearly. I can't even sleep some nights because the memory plays in my head over and over again, and I...I..." I hug Beel as he begins sobbing uncontrollably.

I wonder...

Of course. It makes sense. If Lilith's memory of her death rests somewhere in my subconscious, then it's possible that other memories of hers do, too.

Like one of a banshee's scream.

I'm sure that if I ask nicely enough, I can get Lucifer to destroy that record. If he wants to hear it that badly, I'm sure there's audio of it on the internet that he can listen to with headphones. But I don't want Beel to suffer unnecessarily, and I don't think Lucifer does, either.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @interconnectedmatrix

[kumezyzo]

more desperate bf!sapnap please. . .....

kinda jealous and lightly desperate bf!sap with streamer reader cause why not. we're also revisiting the Everest MV idea.

so, enjoy! or dont... :) m.list

bf!sapnap who went back the idea of you wearing outfits similar to the girls in the music video once he saw how Gravy interacted with you.

"these are my boys," dream introduced as he stomped up the stairs. "and yn."

you glared at him as he motioned to each of you on the couch, restating your names.

you stand up, "hi, its nice to meet you!" you say as you reach your hand out for a handshake.

"yea, i know who you are!" he tells you enthusiastically, going in for a hug instead. you let out a surprised 'oh' and you pull away from the hug.

"you do?" you ask with a slight smile.

"i already kinda knew who you were but when i heard you vocals on the song, i thought it would be cool to check you out," he said nodding.

"oh my god, thank you," you laugh, glancing at dream. he was looking at your boyfriend behind you on the couch.

bf!sapnap who just keeps a close eye on you when you and gravy start interacting more between 'scenes'. he lowkey glared from a distance when the tall blonde compliments you and cracks a few jokes to seemingly make you laugh.

when bf!sapnap saw you come out in a string bikini for one of the scenes, he stopped everything he was doing and went over to talk to you.

"do you need something to cover up with?" he asked, trying to stand in a way to block you from everyone there.

you smile at him with a quiet laugh, "no we start filming in like five minutes," he nods and looks down at your practically naked body. you shake your head and lean in to give him a peck on the lips.

he places his warm hands on your waist, looking at your cleavage and shamelessly checking you out.

bf!sapnap who has you sitting up on the bar outside when the camera is panning around everyone. he's feeling up your sides and getting close enough to kiss you but never actually doing it.

the director at one point has to ask him to move away from you to get more shots of your two on your own or in a different pose.

bf!sapnap who brings you your clothes from earlier in the shoot to change back into. he tries to get you to let him 'help you'.

"nick, i dont need help to put on a t-shirt and shorts," you tell your boyfriend with a blank face.

"of course you do! you need to undo the tie of your bikini," he says as if its obvious. you roll your eyes and shut the door to the bathroom, locking it loudly for emphasis.

its short cause i got tired. but someone, as a cw assignment, suggested writing about anthropomorphizing (?) objects and theres a podcast called Everything Is Alive that does exactly that. one of them is of a pregnancy test... and i would wanna be a pregnancy test just to know ive made someone burst into tears with something other than my writing... -nony

[ophanum]

hi! i was wondering if i could make a request for jerome valeska x innocent!reader where they just have a bit if a poor self image and are struggling to believe jerome is actually into them? thank you!

' TWO ! - Jerome Valeska

ft. Jerome Valeska x Innocent! gn! reader

You've always felt a bit like a wallflower, easily overlooked. You work at a small bookstore, surrounded by stories but struggling to find your own happy ending. Jerome's manic energy and flamboyant personality intimidate you, making you feel even more plain.

He first noticed you because you genuinely laughed at his jokes, the only one not horrified. He finds your innocence refreshing, a stark contrast to Gotham's jaded cynicism. His methods of showing affection are...unconventional. Presents of exploding whoopie cushions and glitter bombs leave you bewildered but strangely charmed.

You can't quite believe someone like Jerome could be interested in you. Surely, it's a prank, right? You try to deflect his compliments, brushing them off with a nervous laugh, "Oh, you're just being silly, Jerome." He gets frustrated by your self-deprecation. "Sweetheart, a person wouldn't waste his confetti on a boring audience."

One rainy afternoon, Jerome finds you hiding behind a stack of books, tears threatening to spill. You confess your insecurities, your voice barely a whisper. He kneels before you, a rare moment of sincerity in his emerald eyes. "You, my dear, are a beautiful anomaly in this dreary world. Don't you dare dim your light." It takes time, but Jerome's unwavering attention slowly chips away at your self-doubt. He introduces you to his own brand of "fun," which involves harmless pranks and late-night explorations of abandoned buildings.

You don't become a villainous mastermind by his side, but your influence does soften his edges a touch. You become his confidante, the one person he can (occasionally) be serious with. In his own twisted way, Jerome cherishes you, a source of genuine connection in his chaotic life.You, in turn, learn to appreciate your own quirks and find a strange sense of belonging in Jerome's brand of madness.

Jerome "borrows" a spotlight from the theater and sets it outside your window one night, bathing your apartment in a dramatic glow. He serenades you with a hilariously off-key song about the most "gorgeous bookstore nobody in Gotham appreciates and the only handsome joker in gotham does." It's cheesy, but it makes you smile.

Jerome thrives on attention, and you, by association, become entangled in his dramatic antics. He might hold an "auction" for a date with you at his "club," bids starting with a whoopie cushion and escalating to increasingly ridiculous items. (Don't worry, he secretly outbids everyone at the last minute). You get dragged onstage during one of his "performances," his grand declaration of love involving juggling flaming bowling pins (and somehow managing not to set himself on fire).

You discover your own strength lies in defying his expectations. When he tries to scare you with a creepy mask, you burst out laughing, the sound echoing eerily in the abandoned building. Jerome, momentarily flustered, breaks character with a surprised grin. You use humor to disarm him, deflecting his pranks with witty comebacks that leave him speechless (for a moment, at least).

Jerome, surprisingly, opens up to you about his past, the traumas that fuel his madness. He lets down his guard in a way he never has with anyone else. In return, you share your own vulnerabilities, the dreams you tucked away because you never felt good enough. These moments of intimacy create a fragile bond, a flicker of normalcy in their chaotic world.

Inevitably, Jim gets wind of Jerome's newfound...stability. He's suspicious, wondering if it's a trap. You find yourself caught in the crossfire, Jim mistaking you for a hostage. Jerome, in a rare display of seriousness, stands between you and the detective, a manic glint in his eyes.

"Touch her, Jimbo, and you'll be facing more than just a laughing fit." You become a bargaining chip in their twisted game, but you also become a reason for them to find a fragile truce.

The Jim, intrigued by Jerome's newfound…softness, decides to investigate. He finds you at the bookstore, surrounded by fairytales with happy endings. A flicker of something akin to curiosity dances in his eyes.

"You must be very special," he whispered, a hint of amusement in his voice, "to tame the likes of him."

You reply calmly, "Maybe everyone just needs a good story once in a while, Mr. Gordon." The Joker raises an eyebrow, a rare sign of genuine surprise, before tipping his hat and disappearing in a cloud of purple smoke.

Deep down, Jerome craves a connection, a feeling of belonging. Your presence sparks a flicker of protectiveness in him. He "borrows" flowers from the park (with some...creative pruning methods) and leaves them on your doorstep, accompanied by a note scrawled in messy handwriting that reads, "For the most beautiful flower in Gotham (who deserves thorns, but I couldn't find any)."

He notices a stray cat hanging around the bookstore and, surprisingly gently, coaxes it inside with a can of tuna. You name it "Puddin'," much to Jerome's amusement (and secret delight).

Gotham may never be a place with a happily ever after, but with Jerome, you find a strange sense of belonging. You learn to embrace the chaos, your own inner strength blossoming under his (surprisingly) supportive gaze.

Gotham's perpetual gloom seemed to cling to you more than usual. You shuffled through the rain-slick streets, head down, the colorful flyers advertising Jerome's upcoming 'show' swirling around your ankles like taunting mockeries.

Jerome. Just the name sent a shiver down your spine, a peculiar mix of terror and...something else. Maybe it was the way his emerald eyes gleamed with manic delight, or the easy way he made you laugh, a sound rarely heard these days.

You bumped into someone, scattering flyers. A hand brushed yours as you reached down. You looked up, startled, into Jerome's face. A wide, genuine smile stretched across his lips, devoid of its usual malice.

"There you are! I was hoping you'd make it," he said, his voice a melodic whisper.

You stammered, cheeks flushing. "I, uh, I wasn't sure..."

Jerome tilted his head, his smile softening. "Why wouldn't you be? You're the star of the show, doll."

A disbelieving laugh escaped your lips. "Me? But I'm...ordinary."

Jerome's smile faltered for a brief moment, then returned, wider than ever. "Ordinary is boring, darling. You? You're captivating in your own little way."

He tucked a flyer behind your ear, the garish colors a stark contrast to your drab clothes. "See you tonight, love."

He winked and sauntered off, leaving you breathless and bewildered. You stared at the flyer, the bold letters screaming, "Jerome's Grand Finale: The Unveiling of Gotham's Most Exquisite Catch!"

Was he serious? You, an afterthought in most people's lives, Gotham's most exquisite catch? The idea was laughable, if it weren't coming from the city's most notorious villain.

That night, you found yourself drawn to the abandoned theater, a moth to a flame. Jerome's laughter echoed from within, laced with a dangerous edge. You hesitated at the doorway, then pushed through.

The scene that unfolded was pure chaos. Jerome, dressed in a flamboyant ringmaster's coat, orchestrated a mayhem of explosions, confetti, and terrified hostages. Yet, his eyes kept searching for you.

When they met, a secret smile played on his lips. He held up a spotlight, bathing you in its warm glow. "There she is, folks! The one who makes the world a little less dreary!"

A blush burned your cheeks, but you couldn't help but straighten a little, a flicker of newfound confidence warming you from the inside. Maybe, just maybe, Jerome saw something special in you, something you couldn't see in yourself.

The ending, as expected, was a fiery spectacle. But as the flames subsided, Jerome knelt before you, a single red rose held out.

"You were magnificent, doll," he whispered, his eyes shining with an emotion you couldn't decipher.

In the flickering light, you saw a flicker of vulnerability, a hint of the man beneath the mask. And in that moment, you knew, whatever this twisted thing between you was, it was real.

[sailor-aviator]

Okay, but what if it was Victorian Era!Jake's mother or mother-in-law who laced up his wifey too tight? Just to "teach her a lesson", because she doesn't like wifey being married to Jake or something... And wifey is too stubborn to let the woman know she is in any discomfort, so she doesn't say a word to anyone about it until the event is over and she is all alone with Jake in their own bedroom, far away from the evil woman. And throughout the event she would sometimes grip onto Jake's arm tighter for support, or lean on him more, or ask to stop dancing before the song ends, and she doesn't eat much if at all of the food, even though it's her favourite, so Jake knows something is wrong, but he knows better than to verbally ask her, so he just looks at her with a look only she knows to be concerned (because Jake knows that his wife is a very proud woman, and she would hate for everyone else around her to know/think she is weak, especially her mother/mother-in-law, when the whole point is to prove a point against the woman) and she just squeezes his hand, and gives him a small shake of her head, to let him know she needs his support, but not make it too obvious (it helps that Jake never was one to leave her alone for too long at these events). And so when they are alone in their own room, far, far from everyone else, she finally lets the facade go and she gasps for air, and Jake knows immediately what to do, and he hurriedly takes the corset off, and his wifey is crying from relief when she can finally breathe normally. Jake sees red at the thought of someone doing this to her, but he is still the most gentle ever with his wife as he touches her and holds her and asks her who laced her up, although wifey can hearthe barely restrained rage. And at first she is hesitant to tell him, because she doesn't want to hurt him by revealing that either of their mothers doesn't approve, so it takes Jake listing off the potential suspects for her to burst out "no, it was my/your mother!". And she is crying and he is shocked, but only for a second, because then it makes perfect sense, and finally he understands why the woman looked so displeased the whole evening - because wifey held herself together and her plan didn't work. Needless to say, Jake pampers wifey the whole night and morning , and will never let anyone else lace her up, other than himself.

First of all, I love that we're writing novel length asks for this concept lmaooooooo

So, one thing that's very interesting about the corsets that a lot of people don't realize is that they were not meant to be tight. Corsets were meant to be support items like bras. You had to be able to move around in them and do things, so it wouldn't make sense for them to be suffocating or restrictive. I know we all want the Pirate's of the Caribbean scene where she feints, but my loves, that's just not realistic, and if you've been following me for a while, you'll know that I try to be as realistic with my historical AUs as possible.

Now, with that being said, I could see someone tying reader's corset waaaayyyyy too tight just to be vindictive!

And you're right. Jake would be absolutely livid once he finds out. He'd be so gentle with reader, stroking his hands up down your sides in a bid to soothe you as you catch your breath. He'd kiss the frustrated tears away, urging you to lay back as he strokes your hair and whispers those sweet nothings. He'd gather you up in his arms and just let you cry out the frustrations.

Now, I imagine that it would actually be Reader's mother who did this. I picture her as very controlling, wanting everything to be just so in the name of the family's honor. I'm not sure if she approves of Jake, but does know that he's from a very well-to-do and respected family, so maybe she's upset because Reader told her no about something. Mother knows best, after all, so how dare her daughter tell her no!

I think the next time Reader's mother is over, he'd do something very subtle to embarrass her publicly for the stunt she pulled with his wife. She won't soon try something like THAT again.

[deafsignifcantother]

if music be the food of love, chapter 5

♥ here you go lovies, it’s series time | chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter six ♥ summary: a cute comfort fic teehee and featuring their playful bickering ♥ relationships: aroace Alastor x deaf female reader (queerplatonic to romance) ♥ word count: 4.3k ♥ pinterest board ♥ notes: so essentially my concept is that reader isn't a 'sinner' at all and is just a gentle girl who has these abilities just because of a vengence she has + also i hold onto my thoughts that her radio shit is genuinely a curse because of her actions. not really within context of this story but i wanted to add that to emphasize that that is why alastor doesn't know how to talk to her sometimes. ♥ no tag list rn :3

You can't ignore him, especially when he pops into your room. He didn't want to, but with Charlie asking nicely and Vaggie threatening him, he rolled his eyes before giving in. You were the last person he wanted to see, and everyone knew that Charlie asked Husk first.

But nobody wants to get close to you when your songs are so miserable.

Angel walked by your room and burst into tears, as did Charlie when she went to knock on it. Even she couldn't overcome the nightmarish visions you forced into her head.

She gets it now, how terrifying you make people. She understands why you isolated yourself.

Alastor's first thought was to ask you to leave, especially since you brought despair to his employees. But after putting his fingers on his temples, he realized he needed to put his stubbornness aside and be a friend (in actuality, Charlie got mad when he talked about it).

He's never had to comfort you before. His eyes dart around the room, avoiding your saddening form. What does he say? The whole thing was somebody else's idea; he didn't have the time to think about something to say.

What would make you happy?

He sneaks up to you, hiding his static, wanting a second to see how you pose yourself in isolation. The eerie violins show no signs of dissipating; you keep still under your blankets; anyone could have mistaken you for sleeping, but he's watched you long enough to know the difference. Deep down, he is grateful that you won't show him what true terror is the way you do to others; he can't even imagine what his version of torture would be.

Should he say that you can ever push him away? That must be it...it's what you would only dream of him saying.

The first thing he does is have his shadow travel on the wall attached to your bed, where you can make eye contact with it. A bit of static joins your music. It's pretty endearing.

When you reach out to touch it, he's seized by the urge to leave the room and ditch it there to comfort you. Is that all it would take? Judging by your music's influx, he may still sense the harmful waves.

A chill seems to run up your spine, and to your shoulders, and in a slow turn, you look at him. What a sweet girl, he thinks. But then you whip your head back towards the wall. His eyebrow twitches.

Alright. Playtime.

He emerges from his shadow in the blank of an eye and lays on the bed next to you, on his side, propping himself up by the elbow. Your eyelids flicker at the sight of him.

Your hand noses between your bodies, and in a careful push, you shove his face away from you. He stares at the wall. When his eyes meet yours, there's a warning, and you pull away.

You strain and turn around, but his hand yanks you back to face him.

"Stop trying," you sign.

'You've changed so much,' he said yesterday, facial expression portraying nothing but disgust. And with his prideful smile, 'Overlords rise and fall, and I remain through it all.'

With your signs, he stays still, brain racing. "I'm not trying anything."

"I know you don't care, who asked you to be here?"

He almost responds with an answer. He lifts his hands to his shoulders, the ghost of 'princess' on his hands, before he transitions it to, "We all care about you, my dear."

He struggles. "I care for you."

"You're lying."

When you turn away, he lets you. But that doesn't mean he doesn't grab your waist and pull you against him, making room for him to transport right in front of your face again.

"Why don't you stop trying to drive me away? It's not going to work. I'm not going anywhere. I never have."

Except for the years he left you alone, you retort only with your expression. You both skip over that conversation.

"You always came back." You sign.

Alastor is winning you over. He knew that would work. Even your music has started to lighten up, though the minor key is still prominently lingering.

"Of course I do, darling."

For a simple test, you lean your head forward, and with an instinct he regretted, he presses his forehead against yours. But it's not enough to calm you down. He notices the lack of motion in the room, how still your hips are, and how small your breathing is. Your neck, as gorgeous as it is, is bent at an uncomfortable angle to match him. He knows it hurts you, so like the gentleman he is, his big hands cup your neck and cheek, letting you rest against him.

There you go; your music calms completely. Was it that easy for you to forgive him? You must genuinely relish him. You couldn't process the next several seconds. His forehead pulls away from yours, and your eyes widen when he moves closer and presses his lips against your forehead. They don't perk like a kiss but rather brush against you.

And then he disappears, his task considered done, and he leaves you flustered (on purpose). That asshole. Lukewarm air passes over your shoulders. Hell's days are always warm, but you find yourself shivering uncontrollably. He's only held you like that once before, the last visit before he left for what felt like an eternity. His lips felt like Heaven then, just as they do now.

After a few minutes of lying in your bed, exasperated at his fleeing, especially after holding you in your bed like that, you try to grasp how much he probably disliked doing that (unbeknownst to you, false, it was just the uneasiness if you were going to do something).

Flickering lights grab your attention, and you turn around to see Charlie flicking your light switch, already half inside the room. With an awkward wave, she invites herself in, fiddling with her hands. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

Your eyes widen. You're in trouble, aren't you? Will they kick you out? Is this the end of everything? "I'm sorry for all that," you try to act casual, "Sometimes it happens."

Which is the most dismissive way to describe it.

Charlie just smiled softly, shaking her head. She keeps walking into the room, perhaps because of the urgency, which explains her bad manners.

"No, no, you don't have to worry about that—this isn't about you," she reassured you, resting a hand on your shoulder. "I need to ask you something."

Even more ominous.

"What possibly?" You sit up in bed properly, letting your legs dangle from the side. "Am I supposed to be keeping a secret? Is it about Alastor?" The words slip. Those sentences together are the worst combination.

"It's... Partially about him, yes." She responds, letting out a breath she didn't realize she was even holding. How is she going to explain this? You look her up and down, taking in every bit of her body language.

"Partially?"

She nods, beginning to fumble her hands together as she tries to form words. You stay patient, letting her figure it out for herself while at the same time screaming inside. Even your music starts to change.

She forces out whatever she can muster. "How long have you known him?"

"Since the moment he entered Hell we've known each other. Now tell me why you ask?"

Charlie begins to fidget as soon as you confirm, almost like she doesn't want to continue that conversation. She took another deep breath before responding. "Has he always acted like this? Did something change him?"

"Goodness gracious, will there be an overall point to this? He maintains his ideals, yes." You put a hand on your forehead to calm yourself down.

"That wasn't what I asked you."

Your eyes pierce hers, the look in your eyes reminding her that you were an Overlord, while the stare she has reminds you that she could kill you in an instant. Charlie Morningstar is glaring at you.

"He hasn't changed." You start off slowly, making sure she can understand. "You can trust me on that. There isn't any drastic events in his time in Hell and he will never change."

You say the lie as if it's second nature. From the time you left, something could have happened to him. With the differences in his composure, having less goofiness than you once remembered, you know it must have been something.

"That's exactly what I'm concerned about."

"Oh, he's not going to hurt anyone here." Your laugh doesn't comfort her. "If he wanted to, he would have already."

She has always assumed that, but hearing it from one of his closest friends makes her feel better.

She needed to come to you to confirm her beliefs. She trusts Alastor, but only to some extent. His motives are questionable. However, if you trust him, then why shouldn't she?

"Do you really think so?

"I know so. Don't you go worrying about it, princess."

She takes a deep breath, her smile returning. "Thank you. And-And thank you for being here! I gotta tell Vaggie."

The interaction ends with her grabbing your hands, nodding, blushing, and turning away with excitement in her steps. So delighted to keep her lover happy.

You look around your room, searching for any clue of Alastor's shadow. You wouldn't want him to know you were just talking about him. With no sign of him, the privacy offered calms your nerves.

You strip off the nightgown, definitely shooing away any of his shadows that could have been around. Brush your hair and tie lace layers to your waist before putting on the final layers of your dress. You look just as you did those bizarre years ago. A smile reaches your face, one that only you have witnessed.

.

"You keeping yourself busy?" You sign, sitting down at the bar. The slight ting of melancholia in your music makes Husk's eyes water, but he swallows the lump in his throat so as not to make you feel guilty.

"You could say that."

There's a childish kick of your legs. "Did you know I was coming?"

"Of course I did. We can hear you from a mile away."

"Not like that, Husk," you laugh and wave at him. "I meant when Alastor left."

But the conversation is closed before it can even start.

"Ah, finally, you've joined us!" Alastor's shadow dances across the walls before Alastor sits next to you.

"Yeah, I had to eventually." You give him the most comforting smile.

"What have you been doing since this morning?"

You give a joyous smirk, sarcasm evident. "I can ask you the same thing."

"Oh, you know," he plays along, "the usual. Nothing. Nothing here satisfies my interest."

“Interests like cannibalism? Gruesome murder? Your boredom must be unbearable! Were you waiting for me to join you?”

“Oh my, how sadistic of you. Are you a glutton of violence and murder, my dear?”

"Maybe I am, everybody loves letting off a little steam."

He laughed softly and stood beside you after you sat at the bar. His smile never left his face, even as he gave you a look that screamed oh, bullshit. You still have those tendencies?

“Oh yes, of course. A very common thing, letting off steam. So tell me, my dear,” he leans forward against the bar, "How do you like to let off steam then?”

You avoid his question for a few seconds as you point to a bottle on the shelf, Husk throwing a thumbs up before treating you. You lick your lips. "Going around luring people in, I suppose. Showing people their true weaknesses. The same old, same old, ah, do you remember?"

His smile widens, and his movements grow almost excited and cheerful. “Ah yes, what a pleasing reminder. I vividly remember you tearing hearts out of people,” he says with a soft chuckle. His eyes look you over once more before signing speaks again. “Though, I also recall how you hated getting bloody."

You laugh. "Ah yes, it was the stickiness. I used to ask you to poof it off for me." You wave a hand dismissively, a small smile growing. Husk stares at you two and the joyous banter between friends and he gets a sick feeling in his gut. Two dangerous and terrorizing overlords laugh as if they're humans again. There's no worse thing in Hell.

He chuckles once more and gives a small roll of his eyes before leaning forward and putting an arm around your shoulders. He pulled you closer gently, making sure you didn't topple over.

“Oh, and how you'd hate touching me whenever you saw me after a meal. You wouldn't even shake my hand!” He continues as he moves his hand and fiddles with a strand of your hair. “Though, I suppose it’s quite ironic.”

"Ironic?"

His smile turns into a smirk, his hand still gently playing with a strand of your hair as he signs sarcastically.

“Oh my dear, you really are quite simple sometimes, aren’t you? You can incapacitate anybody to the point of unrecognition right in front of me, yet you never seem to enjoy seeing me when I do. Quite ironic, don’t you think?”

"You're a tad bit scary, and I wouldn't consider myself as scary as you. You looked frightening, and I'm afraid I looked beautiful." A small laugh leaves your lips. Your thoughts flicker through all the moments you've seen him covered head to toe in blood, the moments where he'd just smile and address you like nothing was wrong.

He continues to smile without faltering, his head tilting, and he sits so close to you that Angel starts paying attention with wide eyes.

“And too beautiful, I’d say. Your victims just fall into your lap, imagine a world where mine would! But of course, I find myself enjoying the chase."

Great, Husk thinks, now they're bantering like serial killers.

"Alastor, all of Hell would be extinct if people just fell into your lap."

His eyes were locked on yours, a soft and almost mocking expression on his face. “Let’s be honest, darling. I doubt all of Hell would be gone.”

"You'd save Rosie," you list off people. "Mimzy, of course, if you're considerate enough. Hmm, who else? Nifty, what a charming woman."

He gave a soft roll of his eyes and decided to list more names.

“Ah yes, you can’t forget old Husker at the bar can you! After all, he does keep me entertained with all his sarcasm and wit." His eyes slide over to the cat in question, who avoids his gaze to pretend he's having a deep conversation with Angel.

"That's all I can think of!" You smile to yourself, both of you playing around with the apparent other option. "But I doubt you'd enjoy life without victims. That's your forte down here. Or... most certainly ever."

All he offers is a slight nod in agreement. “That’s absolutely correct, darling. I would probably be dreadfully bored without all those wonderful victims to have my fun with, and my dear, you'd never become one of them. I'd keep you here.”

"What if you get too bored and decide to kill me off?" Your smile becomes lopsided when you try not to laugh. The drink before you finally gets touched as you bring it to your lips, continuing to sign with the other hand. "I'd leave your little party."

“Oh, please. As if I would ever kill you. After all, you keep me entertained when you're near.” He says, eyes gleaming in amusement as his eyes lock onto yours, his smile growing wider as he rests an elbow on the table, his entire body facing you.

"What a compliment," You put the drink down a little too hard. "You know how to make a lady blush."

The same smile stays on his face, not faltering as he lets out a soft, almost ridiculous chuckle, knowing you can't hear it. He replies as if you weren't being sarcastic.

“Oh, I always knew how to properly flatter people!" He pauses for a moment, grabs your drink, and cheers to you. “Though I do believe I like it when you blush more.”

He downs it as if it's nobody's business.

"I can tell," and that's the only response you give to that. "Has Charlie given you any demands today?" You quickly change the topic, trying to keep the casualness from becoming something more.

He leans back from the bar, shaking his head. "Oh, I wish she gave me something fun to do. Something to keep me preoccupied, but I was once again given nothing.”

"Do you have any plans, then? Something to help your forever boredom?"

He pauses, simply sitting in place with a smaller smile as he seems to think for a moment. “Hmm, not a single thing, I suppose. My only plan for the evening was to see you again! That lovely music of yours tells me that you feel much better.”

"Always better when I see you," you try to say but end up rolling your eyes sarcastically, turning away. "Thank you for that. I know I scared the others."

“Oh, please. You scaring the others is quite the common occurrence at this point. I doubt it surprises anyone anymore.” The loud laugh you give him helps him continue, “And of course! No need to thank me, I'll always be here now.”

"Very funny, what a comedian you are." The looming sensitivity of the topic doesn't fail to make me feel a twinge of guilt. It's embarrassing how much you depend on him, though he must enjoy it greatly with how much he edges it on.

“Oh my, my dear, always getting sarcastic with me, I do wonder why.”

"Do you like?"

“Until the day we die."

"How sweet!" It's your turn to cheer to him. "If we died together, I'd be such a winner. Or would you?"

Angel puts a hand between you two and signs the few sentences he knows. "Get a room."

Alastor barks out a laugh while you just smile.

"This is a room! How witty you are, Angel Dust."

He turns to you for approval, and his smirk grows wider when he sees your smile and the hint of genuineness in your eyes; his lids fall down almost teasingly. You focus on Angel's glance at you, where you just give the smallest shrug at him. Alastor continues the chatter and pretends Angel isn't even there. Husker tries to wave Angel away with a warning. If you're going to piss off anybody, don't let it be those two.

“Oh, I always win, darling. You really should know that by now.”

His signing is filled with gliding in a way that only an old-fashioned man can manage.

"You won me over." A blatant confession, but you pretend all it is is a friendly remark. "And you won the trust of the princess of Hell! I guess that's just the charisma you're known for. I always knew you would accomplish something great. When you first arrived, I remember how you started your reputation by picking off overlords like they were flies. You should have heard the gossip Zestial started!" And the most impactful change of tone, "Can I ask a question?"

His smile grows almost wider at your acknowledgments. Good to know he left an excellent first impression. His response lands in his brain, but he considers communicating it, a hint of amusement lingering in his eyes as he slowly nods once, signaling for you to go on.

“Of course you can ask a question, dear.”

"Why didn't you kill me?" Your smile seems to grow. A few days ago, if you were to ask, you would be frowning and nervously looking away. But the rather blunt words he forced you to comprehend last night cause you to realize just how much you've lost the attitude you were known for. When did emotions get ahold of you?

“Now, now, dear, you didn’t seriously think I’d kill you, did you? You should know that the day we met, you have captivated me. I wouldn’t simply kill you after being so captivated by you. Now, why didn't you try and kill me?”

His question has never crossed your mind. Your eyes widen a bit. Alastor relishes in catching you off guard.

"For the same reason, of course. There's nothing better than someone bewitching." You place a hand on your cheek.

"Well, I’d consider it fair, seeing how you haven’t tried to kill me.”

The huff Husk gives doesn't go unnoticed by either of you. You turn to him, a silent notion that he's been counted, and gesture back up to the drink he poured for you again. This time, he makes another one for Alastor. "Oh please," Alastor pushes the second drink towards you. "It was absolutely disgusting."

You roll your eyes, taking a painfully loud sip from the glass and letting out an 'ah' when finished. But then your eyebrows furrow, processing the sentence he had previously said.

"Haven't? Don't you mean hadn't? I wouldn't even think about killing you now." Once again, you shrug, but lighter this time. "Young man, you know that you'd win."

"Well, I'm certainly glad you've realized that your taste in drinks is absolutely dreadful.” His ears flatten on his head. "Did you seriously just call me a ‘young man’? Really, darling?”

"I'm older," you remind, playfully shaking your shoulders, tilting your head back and forth as you do so. "You're a young man to me, never forget. I could just almost pinch your cheeks."

“Oh, well, excuse me, grandma.” He says, mocking your gesture. “Never say young man ever again. Or that you can ‘pinch my cheeks.’”

"So defensive." The drink once again finds its way to your lips. "Next time I hold your face, I'm going to pinch your cheeks. I got to catch you by surprise."

"You'll never be able to touch me again."

"You wouldn't be able to live without it. Don't pretend not." You swivel the stool, ensuring one of your shoulders blocks Husk's sight. "I know your secrets."

“What can I say, darling?" Both of his hands go up as he shrugs. "You're getting rather confident, aren't you?"

Is that a threat? You lean back, eyebrows furrowing. "Aren't you the confident one here?"

His fingers gently grab your chin and pull your face closer to his, his eyes studying you closely. “My, what a cute question, darling."

You two should definitely get a room.

"Maybe not confident," you tease, "Perhaps passionate? I would never want to be in the way of your passions. What would I do if you went all big scary monster on me?"

What a curious way to phrase it. Do you consider it a 'big scary monster' when his limbs contort and his bones crack? That's the charisma he's always loved.

"Do I not scare you, my love?”

The question surprises you a bit; the tone of it unmatches the previous tension. "No, of course not."

His once-consistent smile grows enough to crinkle the corners of his eyes. He shakes his head slightly in a soft yet sarcastic manner.

“No, of course you’re not afraid of me, darling. You’re never afraid of me. Always so fearless when you’re around me, isn’t that right?”

His cracked, sour casualness gives a dynamic much love when side by side with your relaxed attitude. You smirk and shake your head. "I'm as brave as a lion."

"Of course you are."

"Then it's settled, I should have no reason to be scared of you. Case closed." You stand, extending your hand to shake his. "To mutual respect." He stares at it, wondering if he can trick you into a deal at this very minute. He glances up at you, eyeing you closely as he slowly and gently takes your hand.

“Ah, yes. To mutual respect." He shakes your hand firmly and politely. Another day.

"Perfect." You pull away, looking around the room at where to go next. Sit on the couch? How boring. You can slide down the stairs railings; that would be more exhilarating. "You said you wanted to see me this evening? Is there really anything to do around here? Do you just sit and dissociate all day?"

He sighed when you pull your hand away from his. His eyes still follow you closely. His smirk dropped slightly, misperceiving your words.

“My, how cruel. You really think all I do is sit and dissociate all day?”

"It's what you do instead of sleeping. Quite unsettling, Alastor."

"Always awake, my love. Always awake."

"Definitely. Yeah, my mistake."

Your smile reminds him of the decades you've spent together just having a long conversation. It's the type of conversation two married people would have when they get ready for work in the morning.

Sitting on the couch ended up being a good idea. You miss making him laugh. Alastor always looks at you as if he wants your blessing, his eyes remaining on you, watching your every expression and reaction to his words.

It's a unique type of interaction with The Radio Demon, but not a bad one. There's nothing that makes you feel more special than the way he looks at you.

Stop doing that. You plea in your head, and you drive me insane. How else am I supposed to feel?

He crosses his feet when he hears the jazz finding its way into your music. He leans into the couch, smile growing, not letting you know why he's smiling.

[keiskake]

how MHA characters would propose

gn!reader

he would propose in private, he wants that moment to be just you and him. he would buy the biggest and shiniest ring to show how great his love is for you, he also just likes to spoil you. roses and candles on an open rooftop that he flies you to. he would hum a song as he bends down on one knee to ask you the big question. he’s holding back tears, a lot of them.

“baby bird, will you do the honour and marry me?”

being a wanted criminal means his options are limited, but he’s still a very romantic man. he would definitely propose at night when the stars are out and the moon is shining. you’d be staring out the window and admiring the view, and behind you he’s setting up everything. a bouquet in one hand and the ring in the other (whether he bought them with his own money is another story). he would gently say your name, and as you turn around there he is. on one knee. a coy smile and a ring placed infront of you.

“marry me doll, right here right now.”

even though he’s a sloth wrapped in a yellow sleeping bag 99% of the time, he knows a special moment like this should be done in style. he would put a suit on and tie his hair back, taking you to a fancy restaurant. a candle lit table outside, eating dinner with a beautiful view, almost as beautiful as you. he would order a special dessert, with chocolate writing that says ‘will you marry me’ and then he’d get on one knee and ask the question again. his face red. 

“i know the dessert gives it away but...will you marry me y/n?”

bakugo does romance in style. a home cooked meal of your favourite dishes and your favourite deserts. a warm bubble bath with scented candles and rose petals, and not forgetting the back massage he would treat you to. he’d help you dry your hair and you’d put on matching pyjamas. he’d lead you to the balcony, hugging you from behind while you guys look over the city lights. he’d let you go momentarily and you’d turn around to check on him, only to see him on one knee with a ring at hand.

“i promise to be good to you forever, not just tonight. so will you marry me?”

deku isn’t very good at planning romantic events out, he’d probably just panic, overthink and create a plan in his notebook. despite all that, he would end up just asking you in the burst of the moment. you two would be walking around a park during the cherry blossom season, holding hands. the flowers and your beautiful face just fit perfectly together, he’d tell himself. and at that moment he knew you were the only one for him, so he panicked and got on one knee. but he only realised after he asked you to marry him that the ring was at home. 

“m-marry me y/n! i’ll give you the ring later...sorry i forgot.”

he’s probably replayed that exact moment over and over and over again since you two got together. a trip away from everyone, just you two, to the beach. a sunset walk after eating soba for dinner. the ocean breeze dancing through the air and the sun glistening in your eyes. you’re stunning to him. he looks composed but inside he’s shook and in awe. he knows this is the moment. he won’t make the same mistake his father did, he’d do it right. he’d take your hand to face him, the sunset witnessing your promises of everlasting love. he’d pull away from you, taking out a ring on one knee. 

“won’t you marry me baby?”

a/n ~ this was a 100 follower special post, i really wanted to thank everyone for following, liking, reblogging my work it means a lot to me. i hope to continue pumping out fanfics, drabbles and series in the future.