#i can work with this. i take back what i said i need to keep drawing goncharov until i have a 10-piece body of work

[luveline]

Something for hotch? Maybe where reader gets hurt/a concussion on a case and goes to the hospital but refuses to tell him she went until someone else mentions it?? <3 you dont have to do it if you have something similar but i love your writing!

ty for requesting!! <3 —Hotch will look after you, even when you don’t tell him you need him. fem, 1.7k

cw reader has a concussion

Hotch rubs his face when he knows nobody’s watching. Hand over his eyes, thumb and forefinger working against a brewing migraine. It eases a little of the tension there, but he can’t do it like you can. There’s something in your hands that makes him want to call them lovely hands, such a quaint word. You rub the space between his brows with your thumb until his aching is gone or replaced. Fondness with its own heartbeat wakes whenever you’re near. 

You’re not near. His head hurts. He wants a cup of coffee and a shower and to call Jack. The cases are never over when they’re over, is the thing, and he can’t keep track of everything. He has to answer questions and patch holes now, before the work follows him home to take up space on his desk. 

He talks to police officers, chiefs, victims families and firemen and Penelope, too, anybody who needs to ask him a question. He tells Emily to go back to the hotel because she’s exhausted, and warns Spencer that staying too long will give him another headache. He’s surprised half an hour later when Morgan grabs him by the arm. Hotch assumed he went with Spencer. 

“Hotch, what are you still doing here?” 

Hotch gives him a strange look. It’s not as though Morgan hasn’t seen Hotch clean up a mess before. “Sorry?” 

“I thought you’d be with Y/N.” 

He tries very hard to look casual. The team are often better at pretending they haven’t noticed you and Hotch slowly moving together. “She went home.” 

“No she didn’t, they took her in an ambulance. She’s at the hospital, nobody told you that?” 

Hotch knows Morgan can finish up for him. He doesn’t even say where he’s going or what there is left to do, Morgan is more than capable of handling the unit, and he’s a phone call away. Hotch rushes for an agent with a car and tells them where he needs to go as he punches your speed dial into his phone. Number three, after Penelope and Jess. 

You don’t answer, it makes him feel sick. He calls again and JJ picks up. Blessed, amazing JJ. 

“Hi Hotch.” 

“Is she there? Can I speak to her?” 

“She went in for an MRI a half hour ago.”

“JJ, what happened? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” 

“She said she told you.” A dry laugh from down the phone. “You’d think I’d learn not to trust her. I love her, but she’s a liar.” 

Hotch could say the same thing. “JJ, what happened? What’s wrong with her?” 

“I think she’s embarrassed. When everybody was coming back out, someone stepped on the back of her leg and she slipped down the stairs.” 

“Who stepped on her?” Hotch asks. 

JJ laughs. Hotch wonders if they’re too far into working together to scold her for unprofessionalism, but then he remembers the Unit would fall apart without her and holds his tongue. He’d fall apart without you, maybe, and he could stand to be a little more defensive. 

He’s out of the car and into the hospital in record time. He follows the signs to the Emergency Room, gives your name at the desk, and doesn’t have to flash his badge to get told what room they’ve put you in. He would’ve, and he would’ve threatened legal action. He’s no saint. He’ll abuse the system (in innocuous ways only, of course) if it means he gets to see you. 

You’re in a bed but sitting on the side of it rather than laying down. JJ sits in the chair beside you, two contrasting expressions on your faces. You’re smiling. JJ bites her lip. 

She turns to Hotch with relief. “Hey, look,” she says gently. 

“You took a long time to get here. Was it the moon?” 

Hotch understands quite quickly. “Sorry. Nobody told me you got hurt. What happened to the moon, honey?” 

You give him a vacant look. Turning back to JJ, your hands vying for her arm, you hold her to your stomach gently and squeeze your eyes closed. “The light.” 

Hotch turns to the wall, looking for the light switch. It’s hidden behind other concerning tech, so he’s careful about what he presses. You sigh and draw his attention, wiggling back on the bed to almost fall off the other side. 

“Maybe she thought she told me,” he suggests, not scolding JJ, but unhappy nonetheless. You clearly aren’t in a state to make decisions for yourself. 

JJ rubs your arm. “She got worse after we got here. That’s why they sent for her MRI so quickly. She’s on and off with it, incoherent and normal again.”   

Hotch knows she’s concerned for you, but he can read her restless leg; she hasn’t talked to Will or heard about Henry in hours. “Go back to the hotel, JJ. I have her.” 

JJ gives you a hug, to your confusion, and bypasses him fast. He can hear her phone ringing before the doors shut from her departure. 

He admires her loyalty, he just wishes she’d called him two hours ago. 

You rub your eyes, the loose sleeves of your hospital gown shifting against the loose knot behind your neck, and he genuinely despises the idea that you’d been here, hurt, without him. “Can I tie your gown again?” he asks. 

You nod into your rubbing. 

“I turned the lights off. It shouldn’t be so bright in here anymore.” He rounds the bed to your back, where a great deal of skin is showing. He smiles though he shouldn’t. You poor girl. “You’re a little… stark.” 

“I’m trying to think of some fruit and milk,” you tell him. 

“Do you need help?” 

“Not for the fruit.” 

“But for the milk,” he surmises, bringing the ties of your gown as close as he can without strangling you and tying them in a neat bow. 

“I don’t think that’s what I meant to say.” 

He puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb to bare skin. “That’s okay, honey, you’re having a little trouble now, but it’ll go away soon. If there were something wrong, the doctor would be here.” 

“You could be a doctor.” 

“I couldn’t. I don’t know anything about medicine.” 

“A very nice doctor. Big hands.” You breathe out loudly, more animated than he’s ever heard you. “Whoo, I’m cold. I think they made me naked.” 

“How about I tuck you in, would you like that?” he asks, leaning over you in hopes of you turning your head. 

You stare up at him. “You want to?” 

“I’d love to. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“My boyfriend might not like it.” 

Hotch tries not to sulk at another horrible symptom. You aren’t only incoherent, but amnesiac. And you’ve forgotten who he is, in a way. At least you’ve remembered you have a boyfriend. He hopes it’s him. 

“No? Why wouldn’t he like it, honey? I’m just trying to take care of you.” 

You visibly fluster. “You’re calling me honey like he does, and he won’t like it ‘cos he takes care of me. He loves to go to places but he doesn’t know where he’s going.” 

That second half is gibberish, he’s sure. Hotch puts his hands carefully under your armpits and manoeuvres you back toward the top of the elevated hospital bed.

You put your hand to your tummy as you lean back, and hiss as your head touches the pillows. “Ow.” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. 

“Don’t tell Aaron I got hurt.” 

“Why not?” 

“I fell down the stairs. He’s never fallen down the stairs.” 

“I have, actually. Twice. And it doesn’t matter how you get hurt, I want to know you’re alright, so I need you to tell me.” 

He pulls the sheets up to your legs and over your lap. Tucks them tightly behind your back, hands lingering on your hips. He watches you look at him, your cloudy gaze tracking over his eyes, his nose, and his lips. “Aaron?” you ask eventually, lifting your chin. 

“Yes?” 

You breathe out an unmissable sigh of relief. “You didn’t come with me.” 

“I didn’t know you were hurt.” He squeezes your hip softly. “You didn’t tell me. But it’s not your fault, is it? You got hurt.” His voice falls into silk. “Is that warm enough?” 

“I’m glad you’re here. I need you to get my shoes.” 

“No shoes. Can I have a hug?” 

“Why?” 

“Just to hug you,” he says softly. “It might make you feel better.” 

You raise your hands clumsily like your fingers are full of sand, forcing him to see his arms under them and behind your back. Your cheeks align, his rough with stubble, yours warm with the heat of a flush, perhaps from the injury. Your hands flop down onto his back as he rubs two separate, loving paths on the gown and your skin. 

Thank god she’s okay, he thinks. 

“Am I stuck like this?” you ask. 

“Are you worried?” He taps your back. “I doubt it. We might have to stay here for a while, but it’s okay. Feeling better is the priority.” 

“I’d like to go back.” 

“Home?” 

“For breakfast.” 

“Are you hungry? I can find you something to eat.” 

“What?” you ask. 

You sound so genuinely confused that Hotch laughs into your shoulder, before giving the fabric a soft kiss. “It doesn’t matter. I’m gonna bring that chair over and sit with you, okay? We’ll wait for the doctor together.” 

He sits with you for hours, talks to doctors and nurses alike as they come to check your vitals and explain your scans. Your confusion doesn’t lessen until the night time, and even then you act oddly, bringing his hand to your mouth to kiss strange parts of his fingers. The skin shy of his nail. The underside of a knuckle, the curve under the meat of his thumb. 

[navybrat817]

Would ceo Bucky and his girl attend the met gala? If so, any ideas on dresses perhaps!

They would, nonnie! As far as the dress, it would depend on the theme. Are we talking recent theme, a past theme, or a made up general theme?

Goes With the Theme

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks his suit goes with a gala theme. You slightly disagree. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Established relationship, banter, flirting, implied sex, implied breeding, brief mention of past insecurities and bad ex, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he worships you. A/N: I blame @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer. Before our couple has Cupcake and Bean. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky refused to tell you in advance what he was wearing to the upcoming gala. He said something about him wanting to surprise you. Of course, he knew exactly what you were wearing since he wanted the designer to make you a gown fit for a queen. He would’ve thrown in a tiara if you asked. It was too much, really.

But if you asked Bucky, nothing was too much for you.

The amount of money spent was just about worth it when he exited the bathroom and looked ready to drop to his knees when you spotted you in your dress. The colors suited you. The fit was like a glove. It was a work of art, really.

“Fuck,” Bucky whispered, his eyes turning a darker shade of blue as you carefully twirled. It was exactly the reaction you wanted. “How exactly am I supposed to keep my hands off you tonight? A man can only take so much.”

“Because a lot went into this dress and you’re not allowed to tear apart,” you smiled before you took in his appearance.

Bucky Barnes turned head wherever he went and the head to toe black ensemble would be no exception. The slicked back hair was a good look on him and there was no denying that your man knew how to accessorize. He also wore enough custom suits for you to know what did and didn’t suit him. He would never fail to make you stop in your tracks from a single stare.

The man never missed a thing though, regarding you carefully as you stared. “You don’t like what I’m wearing,” he stated.

“No, I love it,” you assured him. And you did. You didn’t want him to think otherwise since the man could turn a paper bag into a thing of art and beauty if he chose to. “It’s just…”

“Just what?” He asked, holding his jacket open so you could get a glimpse of the shirt beneath molded to his torso. “I think I look good.”

You blinked and took a breath so you could answer him. Why did he have to be so distracting? “Not like you need the ego boost, but yes. You do look good,” you said. His smirk almost made you lose your breath again. “But does it really go with the theme?”

“What?” He shrugged. “Isn’t the theme ‘floral’?”

“It is and flowers are usually bright,” you pointed out. “You couldn't have gone with a floral jacket?”

“This is my interpretation of the theme.” He pointed to one of the black flowers. “Besides, this is a flower and it’s on my jacket. Therefore, it's a floral jacket.”

You tried not to smile. It was tough to argue with that logic. “Okay. Yes. There are flowers on your jacket, but-”

He cut you off with a smug smile. “So, I'm right.”

And wasn’t it just like a CEO to argue like this? And wasn’t it just like you to enjoy it? “You’re utterly ridiculous,” you giggled, gesturing to yourself. “Not to mention, I'm pretty much wearing the opposite of you!”

“And people will still know we’re together, Mrs. Barnes,” he winked. You loved being his wife. “Do you know why I wore this?”

“Enlighten me.”

“Because a black suit? Any man can wear one. I’ll blend in with the crowd. But you in your gown? All eyes will be on you, as they should be,” he explained, your cheeks hot as he swept his gaze over you. “And I know I won’t take my eyes off you for a second tonight.”

“Oh,” you breathed, clearing your throat at the unexpected tears that clogged it. Your ex tried to make you feel bad about your body when all Bucky wanted to do was celebrate and worship it. More than that, he saw your beauty beneath the surface. “Thank you.”

Though you wanted to argue that Bucky wouldn’t blend in with the crowd. It wasn’t possible. He was too striking for that with his blue eyes and jawline. Too dominant with his large body. And too well known.

He didn’t care about that kind of attention. He was the kind of man who wanted to show you off. Not as a prize or because you were his, but because he loved you.

His eyes softened before they went dark again. “Fuck, you are so beautiful. A goddess,” he said, his voice rough as he stepped toward you. “We may not even make the gala.”

As much as his compliment warmed your heart, boosted your confidence, and dampened your panties, you shook your head. “Oh, no. Don't you even think about it. Do you know how long it took me to get into this dress? That doesn’t include perfecting my makeup. We are going.”

You nearly lost your nerve when he groaned and took another step toward you. That sound was one of your favorites, especially when it was your mouth, hand, or pussy drawing it out of him. “Cupcake, you’re always a vision. You don’t need a fancy dress or a stitch of makeup to be beautiful,” he said, licking his lips. “And you don’t need to wear a stitch of clothing right now either.”

“No.” You firmly pointed a finger at him. You were lucky he didn’t grab your wrist to kiss it. “You promised we'd make an appearance and the last thing you need to do is tell people we didn't show because you couldn't keep it in your pants for a few hours.”

The kicked puppy dog expression was one you had seen on Steve Rogers before, but it was adorable on Bucky. You held your chin high because you’d fall into his arms if you didn’t. “Fine,” he conceded, gripping your chin with infinite care. “But I make no promises that I'll behave in the limo on the way home.”

You’d enjoy your small victory over your handsome CEO and husband for the time being because he’d make you pay for it in the best way later. “Yes, Boss.”

“My perfect wife,” he whispered, delicately moving his hand along the column of your throat. Did he feel how fast your heart beat? “I may just have to knock you up before the night’s over, Mrs. Barnes.”

Your womb clenched at his words, imagining the filthy things he’d grunt in your ear as he bred you. It was almost enough to make you skip the gala, but why not build up the anticipation? “I’ll be disappointed if you don’t, Mr. Barnes,” you said, moving close enough for your lips to touch his.

The breath that rushed out of his lungs was like a kiss, teasing what would come before the night was over. “Don’t tease me, Cupcake.”

“Who said I was teasing you, Boss?” You murmured, pulling back before he could kiss you properly. “Time to go.”

He swore under his breath as he adjusted his pants. You were the only one who could get under his skin. “I’ll knock you up in the limo. Don’t test me.”

Your smile widened. What Bucky didn’t know was that underneath your dress was one of his favorite lacy floral numbers. A surprise and reward for him going to the gala. It would make him fall a little bit more in love with you once he undressed you.

Plus, it went with the theme.

“Looking forward to it.”

Another out of order AU. I'm so sorry, lovelies. And sorry to the nonnie for not fully answering the question! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[brenwritesss]

Tru Fru

Paige x reader

Summary: reader goes to Target to buy a bag of Tru Fru but ends up meeting Paige as they fight over the last bag.

Let me know if you want a part two!!

Taking the keys out of the ignition, you locked your car and walked out into the silent parking lot. With the store about to close in twenty minutes, there were not many people in the parking lot so this should have been an easy trip. For the past week, all that you have been seeing all over your social media was Tru Fru. A company that produced dried fruits covered in chocolate. Your roommate had bought a bag when the hype first started and she became obsessed, saying ‘it was the best snack to ever be invented’.

So here you were at Target, finally buying a bag. After walking into the store, you fiddled with your keyring as you walked down the aisles, heading to the snack area. Once in the snack aisle, you scanned the shelves, trying to find the bags until your eyes finally stumbled upon a bag of Tru Fru strawberries. The last bag of Tru Fru fruit in the entire aisle.

You smiled to yourself as you relished in the luck you had in getting the last bag in the store. You went to get the last bag, grabbing hold of it when to your surprise, another hand picked it up at the same time.

You instantly whipped your head to your left and a tall blonde with hazel eyes peered down at you. She pulled the bag towards her a bit. “I hope you don’t mind but I really need this bag.”

You gave her a skeptical look, not letting go. “So do I.”

“But you don’t understand how much I need this. I literally got the merch for this shit,” she said, making you look at her sweatshirt that had the Tru Fru logo on it.

You shrugged. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with me and this bag.”

She looked you up and down, and you couldn’t lie to yourself, it was hot when she did that. Noticing your UConn hoodie, she pointed at the letters. “Yo, you go to UConn?”

“Yeah.”

“So do I,” she said, almost shouting the fact. “You into basketball by any chance? I’ll get you a hoodie with my number on it if you let me get this bag.”

You laughed, “I don’t know who you are, let alone know that you play basketball. Why would I want a hoodie with your number on it?”

She pretended to look hurt. “Ouch, you know how to hurt someone’s feelings.” When you didn’t respond, she sighed. “Okay, uh I can give you cash for the bag.”

“You’re seriously gonna pay me to give you this bag?” 

“Yes,” she said while giving you a look that made you know she wasn’t joking.

“I’m sorry but I’ve been trying to track these down forever since they’ve been sold out everywhere.” Your grip tightened on the bag.

Paige tilted her head, looking you up and down again and giving you a smile. It would have made you melt if you weren’t so determined to get this bag of Tru Fru. “You know, I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around campus before.”

“It’s a huge campus, it’s hard to notice one singular person.”

She licked her lips, nodding at you. “You’d be easy to notice.”

“Are you seriously flirting with me so that I’ll give it to you?” you asked her.

“Is it working?”

“No.”

“Fine.” She reached into her pocket and took out her phone. You looked at her, confused as to what she was doing. Then to answer your suspicions, she held her phone out to you. “I’ll let you keep this bag if you give me your number.”

So a pretty girl asks for your number and you get to keep the last Tru Fru bag? Sounds like a win-win situation to you. “Sounds good to me.” 

You took her phone and typed in your number with one hand just in case she took the bag from you. Once you handed her phone back to her, she finally let go of the bag. “I’m Paige by the way.”

“Y/n.”

She put her hands in her pockets. “I hope you know I’m actually going to text you.”

“I hope so,” you said, leaving her in the aisle as you headed to the checkout.

Once you had purchased your bag of Tru Fru strawberries, you walked back to your car. The second you got inside, a text notification popped up on your phone from an unknown number.

You should come over so that I can see you again

And bring that bag I let you get

So she wasn’t lying when she said she’d text you. After reading those two texts, she sent another one but this time with an address. You texted back a thumbs up and started driving to the location she sent you. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

[landwriter]

Hi! I hope you feel better soon!

This is a great prompt by @academicblorbo about Hob Gadling being the landlord of the Dead Boys. It has a wonderful fill already by @omgcinnamoncakes but I’d love to see what you come up with for it!

Alternative prompt from me if that doesn’t work for your brain: remember the date between Jenny and Maxine? How about one between Jenny and Esther? Poor Jenny is going to really question her taste in beautiful blonde women 😭

Thank you! I saw ‘landlord’ and ‘decades’ and blacked out. I love Hob having them as tenants. Maybe even before the modern day meeting in Sandman.

The Sandman/Dead Boy Detectives, 2.4k, G Dream/Hob, pre-slash, alternating/outsider POV, found family, a reunion and revelations etc.

---

Hob did not, strictly speaking, have tenants. It was more of a minor haunting. Pun intended.

The small room above the pub and below his flat wasn’t worth charging anyone rent for; when he first bought the building he had put a handsome oak desk in there and some bookshelves before wondering who he was possibly keeping up appearances for. Who was he going to take back upstairs that would stop and say, Wait, can I see your office? So he’d left it as more or less an abandoned room.

When he realized a pair of boys were using it as their clubhouse, he didn’t do anything at first. He saw them quietly coming and going a couple times, disappearing around the corner of the first landing. Brazen things. He meant to call after them, but the shout had died in his throat. He’d been young once. He still remembered the need to get away from it all. It was only when he went to check if they’d been making a mess of the room that he discovered it was still locked.

He’d crouched down and inspected the latch and found no marks at all. Huh, he’d said, and jiggled it again, and been a little more interested in whatever clever way they were getting into it after they disappeared up his stairs. Then he didn’t see them for weeks, and assumed they had gotten bored and stopped.

Until they came back. In the middle of an argument, striding through the pub like they owned it. Hob straightened up as they passed him.

“I cannot believe you broke the mirror.”

“I was in a rush! It’s not my fault you forgot you needed Arcana Incantatum after we arrived at the church. And found the demon.”

“I hardly forgot, I only made the mistake of assuming you would know to pack it by now.”

Hob raised his eyebrows. The boys disappeared into the back hallway. He followed them as they went upstairs, too preoccupied with their drama to notice Hob. They turned onto the landing, still carrying on. Even as they walked through the door. The locked, closed door.

Hob blinked. Then he drew his keys from his pocket and opened the door. The boys were still inside. One of them was pulling a mirror out of a backpack that was several times too small for it. They didn’t even look up, and Hob wondered how he couldn’t possibly have put it together earlier. He cleared his throat.

“Hello, boys.” That caught their attention. Hob grinned. “Seems we’re neighbours.”

---

Edwin abhorred getting involved with the living. He and Charles got along perfectly well on their own. They were a duo. An intrepid pair. Best mates, like Charles often stressed whenever he was about to ask something particularly ridiculous of Edwin. They were solid together. As solid as two ghost boys could be. The living, though, were messy and unpredictable.

Perhaps the most salient fact at present: Charles invariably became attached to them.

“He’s sad, mate. I can see it in his eyes.”

“You said those exact words in ‘94 about a dog. At least ask Hob himself.”

Before you decide to adopt him too.

Hob Gadling, irritatingly, was unobjectionable on every ground Edwin could think of. He had made no imposition upon them. When he found them, he only asked them their business, and then told them he was usually downstairs, or upstairs, if they needed anything they couldn’t procure themselves. He had an interest in rare and old books, as it happened. In explaining this, he had also hinted at being far older than his looks would suggest, which vexed Edwin twice over. He knew his curiosity would not be slaked until he talked to Hob, but then he would be the one getting involved with the living, and Charles would hardly let him forget it.

“Do you think he’s really immortal? Mate’s far too calm. Last week I saw him stop a fight downstairs by stepping right between these huge blokes. He just said something and smiled and they backed right off.” Charles lit up. “Do you reckon he’d teach me how to do that? Conflict de-escalation, innit? I could show him some moves with the cricket bat, I bet. Oh, do you think he’s a cricket fan?”

It was obviously a hopeless case, and since the Dead Boy Detectives never took on hopeless cases, there was only one course of action that remained. Edwin had long since disabused himself of the notion he needed to breathe. He had no beating heart, yet when he was startled, he would find himself clutching his chest. Now, he exhaled slowly through his nose in an entirely superfluous sigh of resignation. “Well, Charles, shall we go talk to him?”

---

When the millennium came around, Hob found himself celebrating it with his accidental tenants. There was something gloriously satisfying about being able to make a toast to the next one and have it taken seriously. He’d asked them if they had something better to do - spectral trouble to get into et cetera - and they both looked at him with almost identical put-upon and incredulous expressions.

Hob had a terrible suspicion they thought they were taking care of him as much as he thought he was taking care of them.

Edwin, with his insatiable curiosity and, deep underneath it, something Hob thought he recognized from himself: a sharp animal ferocity and a refusal to go until he’s good and done, natural laws be damned. Charles, still brightly, painfully alive for a ghost - who should be alive still, by all rights, but nothing of this life was fair - who joked to cover up hurt in a way Hob knew too, and glowed any time Hob turned so much as a kind word to him.

He wondered what they saw when they looked at him.

The year ticked over, and technology kept working. Charles grinned innocently and said he could probably possess the telly and break it that way if Hob wanted?

Hob’s heart twinged. He knew they weren’t his, not to keep, but it seemed that teenagers didn’t change at all over the centuries, even if the boys were only sort of teenagers in the way Hob was only sort of in his thirties. It didn’t change that they’d been punted from the mortal coil before having a chance to grow up, and figure out the kind of men they were, and make their own choices and fuck up and try to be better than their fathers, and everything everyone deserved. Hob had made more than his share of mistakes. They hadn’t been given the chance to make nearly any at all.

So they made toasts to the new millennium, to the detective agency, to themselves, all stuck out of time in different ways and refusing to move on for different reasons, and Hob allowed himself to think of Robyn and privately pretend that they were his all the same.

---

A week later, Hob was reminded of the other universal traits of teenagers when he mentioned his stranger and both boys began to grill him with terrifying alacrity. Before turning to his dating life, like ravening bloody wolves. When Edwin had asked, in a specifically nineteenth century manner that Hob remembered all too well, if Hob had always been unmarried, he’d nearly put his head in his hands.

“It can be hard for me to associate with the living too, you know. For obvious reasons.”

Charles had turned to Edwin and hissed “See? I told you.”

Right in front of him. Nobody had taught them manners.

“Manners, Charles,” replied Edwin loftily. “We will, of course, respect your privacy. A man is entitled to his secrets.”

“You’ll go upstairs and rifle through my personal things, is what you’ll do,” said Hob.

Charles coughed to hide his laugh. Edwin flushed and looked away. Hob snorted, and told them about Eleanor and Robyn. Properly. It was a strange relief. He’d told the story wrong for plausibility’s sake so many times he had been worried he’d forget the truth of it one day.

They had listened, and been remarkably quiet until Charles piped up and offered to set him up with a ‘really fit’ ghost. Hob had roundly shut that down. Woefully, not all explanations were satisfying enough. Charles cornered him again the next morning while he was cleaning the bar.

“No, mate, I still don’t get it.” Hob was about to say he no more wanted to be with someone who couldn’t feel pleasure from his touch than someone who would grow old and be taken from him while he stayed the same, when Charles went on, bafflingly, to ask, “Why don’t you meet your mysterious friend more often than once a century?”

Hob sighed. “Adults are often busy, Charles.” Nevermind that he had begun to wonder the same since the eighteenth century. He’d always just assumed time passed differently for his stranger.

Charles just laughed and perched himself on the bar top. “Ooh, low blow. We’re busy too, you know. Plenty of cases to solve.”

“Really,” said Hob. “You’re busy. Right now.”

Charles waggled his eyebrows.

“Charles, I am not a case,” said Hob, sternly as possible. “I’m not even a ghost. He’s not a ghost. No ghosts.”

“We could investigate. Maybe ghosts are involved. What even is he? Why every hundred years? Is it some sort of Persephone situation?”

Hob bit his lip against shouting I don’t know! I don’t know anything about him! Instead, he tried to smile, and felt it come out as a wince instead. “He’s very private.”

Charles scowled. “Yeah, obviously. You don’t even know his name. He can’t be that good of a friend if he’s too busy to see you more than once a century.”

Hob couldn’t see the expression on his own face, but he saw Charles’ shocked reaction well enough. It was so long ago for him, and still Hob knew at once what Charles saw now: that first time you manage to visibly hurt a grown-up’s feelings, people who seemed too old and too stern to actually feel pain, when you’d been going around kicking at them like a new foal, just to stretch your legs.

“Sorry,” said Charles, instant regret chasing his surprise. He was a good kid.

“It’s alright,” said Hob. He meant it. He looked down at the shining bartop. His hands were restless with the urge to light a cigarette. He gave in. It wasn’t like Charles would be dying of lung cancer any time soon if he decided to follow Hob’s example. “I don’t think he would say he’s very good at being a friend either. Truth is, I’d love to see him more often. But we had an awful fight the last time we met. If he forgives me, I’ll have to ask.”

“Mates always make up,” said Charles earnestly. He was such a good kid.

“I suppose they do.” Charles still looked sorry, and Hob clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey. Thanks for looking out for me, Charles.”

Charles beamed at him. “Always. We’ve got your back, me and Edwin.”

---

Charles couldn’t bloody believe it. Hob’s friend was here. There was nobody else it could be. He and Edwin were watching from a nearby table, pretending to be absorbed in their own conversation. Neither man noticed them. They were too busy looking at each other.

He couldn’t imagine spending more than a century apart from Edwin. The way Hob had talked about him and his stranger over the years, it sometimes seemed like they were best mates too, no matter how little they saw each other. He was dead sure that’s what had Hob looking so gutted when he thought nobody was looking. He had known they would make up, though. Maybe now Hob would be happier.

“Charles, we really ought not eavesdrop,” hissed Edwin. Right as he scooted his chair closer, the cheeky hypocrite. Hob and his friend were talking too quietly to properly hear, their heads bent together. Lots to catch up on, Charles reckoned. A hundred years. He couldn’t stop thinking about the number. It seemed impossible. Funny, he couldn’t imagine that long away from Edwin, but he could imagine spending that long being best mates. There was nobody he’d rather hide from Death with.

Hob’s face was doing something strange as his long-lost friend talked. Then Hob moved and grasped him by the shoulders, so tight that his knuckles stood out in relief. The man said something in low tones and Hob shook his head, and then pulled him in for a hug. The man stiffened and then relaxed, and his arms came up around Hob’s.

Their cheeks both looked wet.

Charles swallowed and it felt suddenly a little like he was choking. He should look away, only he couldn’t.

“They must be great friends,” said Edwin softly.

“Yeah,” he managed to croak. We won’t ever need to have a reunion like this because I’m never going to lose you, mate. I won’t let them take you. It was stuck behind the phantom lump in his phantom throat. His hand, without him telling it to, reached out and grabbed hold of Edwin’s. Edwin squeezed it hard, and Charles knew he didn’t have to make his voice work after all.

Then the man pushed Hob away, but only far enough to grab his face and pull him back again, thumbing over Hob’s cheeks, and beside him, Edwin honest-to-god gasped, and then Charles momentarily forgot how thoughts worked too.

---

It happens thus: in the New Inn, just next door to the White Horse, some 639 years after they first met, Hob Gadling and Dream of the Endless share their first kiss. Neither, if they had bothered to think about it, would have intended to have an audience, but it’s a well-known fact that some kisses cannot wait, and theirs was chief among them, being that it had so much to say, and was so very long overdue.

I missed you, it said, and I came back, it said, and Please don’t go away from me again, and I could not.

And atop them, like blankets, were laid invisible the daydreams of those who saw them, including two long-dead boys, whose dreams were woven from the fresh and unaccounted-for possibilities of Hob kissing his mysterious stranger. Another man, thought Edwin. His best friend, thought Charles. Dream was the only one who could have heeded this, but he did not, because Hob Gadling was holding him tight and daydreaming loudly of this kiss and more, of this today and tonight and tomorrow, ever greedy and ever easily pleased, and Dream could hear nothing at all over their clamouring and comingled joy; the bright gold daydream between the scant space of their bodies that sounded so much like at last.

[greenandsorrow]

the price for misbehaving (ii)

post rut Alastor x gn!reader

WARNINGS; the aftermath of a very horny fic, mentions of deer mating season, friends to lovers, deer/doe!demon!reader, reader with self worth doubts, a sprinkle of angst, curly-haired!Alastor, undertones of Alastor being a momma's boy, mentions of his past, making out, fluff (literally), plot

Dividers by; @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune

Please do not repost or directly copy my work and don't use it on AI platforms either.❤️

From a smutty oneshot to a multi chap fic. Nothing can compare to the chunkiness of the 1st chapter, but I'm satisfied with this one as well. Enjoy you lovely beings and thanks for being patient with me!!! The art above is by @kalico-of-doom.

~masterpost~

The only time Alastor isn't smiling is when he's sleeping you have come to realize. You can't help but notice how tired he looks as you lay motionless beside him. You start petting his ears and he groans softly, nuzzling deeper into your touch without even bothering to open his eyes. A small smile forms on his mouth, a real one. Is this really the same man that has been fucking you until your legs stop working?

In the morning you wake up in his bed, a daily occurrence at this point. However, you weren't expecting him to be staring deeply into your contemned soul.

"A- Al?"

Your voice is hoarse from sleep. You scratch your deer ears, flop on your back and stretch. Alastor keeps staring, studying you and every micro expression you make.

You can feel fear creeping into your gut. Is this the end? Is the rutting season gone? Does he want to kill you and eat you now? Will he kick you out? One thing is certain.

He doesn't need you anymore.

After all, you were just a friend helping him go through a difficult time. Nothing more. Still, you would be lying to yourself if you said that you haven't caught any feelings. From his forceful claiming that hid a great deal of desperation to his tender claiming last night, Alastor has left more than just his mark on you. One could say that he owns you in the most primal and raw of ways, but if he chooses to deny that... that's all it takes really, then you were nothing but a fucktoy.

"Um... I- I'm gonna take a shower"

Is that you doing the walk of shame? Alastor is a gentleman, why isn't he saying anything?! Not a single thing that could make you feel less terrible about the whole situation!

Now that his hormones have died down and you are far from aroused as well, getting out of bed and standing completely naked in front of him... It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, small and inferior to him.

This new emotion, the deep embarrassment that has your face feeling hot and your stomach to churn with anxiety makes you dress up and leave "your friend's" room in the speed of light.

You lock yourself in your much smaller room, preparing a bubble bath for your spent and tired body. You smile to yourself a little, remembering how Charlie had made sure you'd have your own bathtub so that you can read your books while soaking in the warm water.

Sinking in the water, having it envelope you, cleanse your energy and take his scent off of you feels nice. You let your eyes droop until they close lazily, you allow your shoulders to relax, your jaw to unclench. A long and audible sigh. Your hands around your frame.

You start crying.

If another deer demon resided in the hotel, he might as well had spent his breeding season with them. You weren't special. The mere thought of such a thing is killing you. You were just another victim of the radio demon's manipulation.

Still, it's your fault as well. For believing this was more than what it appeared to be? Maybe. You are getting more and more confused by the minute.

But oh the way he had been repeating your name like a prayer... It must mean something to him, you being there for him that is. You didn't even judge the way he had spilled tears of sexual frustration when handjobs weren't enough to relieve the ache in his loins.

Who else has seen Alastor Hartfelt of pride under this light? No one. You are the only exception. He wouldn't have allowed you to get so close to him if he didn't trust you.

As your thoughts keep overlapping and fighting with each other and you continue to cry softly, you peak up the all too familiar sound of static.

Another unfair thing! He can melt into shadow and go anywhere he pleases... The sound intensifies as he approaches... you? Is he really thinking of invading your space like that? You can't even cry and be miserable at peace! Not like you're in Hell.

"Bonjou! Konmen s'apé kouri? Huh?"

Not only are you not in the mood to ask him to translate what he just said, but Alastor literally spawned in your bathroom and he's now acting like this is okay to do. The way he's readjusting his lapels and smiles smugly like he wasn't a grunting mess last night infuriates you even further.

"Can you please get the fuck out of here?"

"Mh?" he just stands there in his usual apathy. He's even holding his cane.

"Can you at least stop smiling for a second?"

"Oh ho! I'm afraid I can't do that my dear!"

"But you can definitely get your ass out of my room! I-" The sound of your voice carries to your ears like a child whining. There's a lump in your throat that you're beginning to fear you won't be able to keep down for much longer. If your face and hair weren't already wet from the bath, then it would be crystal clear that you were weeping like an idiot before he suit himself in.

Alastor is quick to gauge your body language. You're hugging your knees, shielding your naked body from him. Sometimes you swear he can tell your emotional state by sniffing the air around you. It's like your scent is enough for him to piece together the puzzle you are. The radio demon scranches his nose.

"What's there to be so sad over y/n? Today is a beautiful day!"

Is he playing stupid?! Because if he's doing this on purpose... Well, there's not much you can do now that he doesn't need you anymore.

Your lower lip trembles at this terrible thought and the lump in your throat escapes your notice, resulting in a broken and weak sob to come out of you.

Tilting his head to the side way more than necessary and squinting his eyes, Alastor asks "Are you pregnant?"

You freeze and widen your eyes. "I- Is that even... even fuckin' possible in the afterlife?"

The fucker chuckles!

"Oh I don't think so, at least not for lowly demons such as yourself!" The worst part is that he wasn't trying to insult you by saying that, but rather calm you down.

"Go to Hell."

"Ironic."

You can't help it now. You break down in tears. Your chest feels tight as the sobs ripple through your body and make your frame retreat to itself. In addition to your general misery, the water has gone cold, causing you to shiver.

The overlord places his cane against the tiles of the wall and crouches down so he is eye-level with you. He won't let it show just yet, but Alastor is very worried. There's a guilt eating him from the inside.

While he was in heat, in breeding mode, or whatever you wanna call it, he wasn't fully aware of his actions. Alastor's mind was blurred from the desire to mate and basically reproduce. Now that he's back to his senses, he has come to the unpleasant realisation that he might have caused you harm in the process of letting out his passion.

And this simply won't do! This deer demon has done cruel and vile things that he doesn't particularly feel bad about, but hurting you... He would never be able to forgive himself.

You were there for him and showed him a great deal of love and understanding.

So, that's the reason you left so hurriedly from his quarters... He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. He hurt you. HE DID IT TO YOU.

Alastor's permanent grin fades just slightly. It is replaced by concern, evident in the way he looks at your trembling body in the water. He reaches out to gently touch your skin, checking for any signs of pain or discomfort. Your friend's voice softens, it's now filled with genuine worry and regret.

"I'm so sorry darling... I didn't know I caused you... pain."

It's true that you have many bruises and hickeys decorating various places on your body, but that's not the reason behind your breakdown.

"I- It's not th-" you just look down. You can't even explain yourself.

The radio demon's worry deepens after your vague response and he quickly takes action to be by your side, pulling you out of the bathtub and into a tight hug. Alastor whispers reassurances in your ear, his voice filled with remorse.

"I'm so sorry... We should have stopped when it got too much."

No one has heard Alastor apologize before, not even God, for all that's worth.

His expression softens even further as he sees your tears that just keep coming. He carefully brushes them away, worry etched into every line of his handsome face.

"I didn't mean to make you cry. You must know that."

"I'm not in pain... Just sad."

You do look rather devastated.

Alastor is almost frozen in place from all the guilt since he can now see the bruises forming on your skin. The water camouflaged them, but now they are exposed for him to observe and take in.

He swallows hard, his voice shaking with emotion like never before. "Y/n... I didn't mean to do that. I didn't. None of it."

"None of it?"

Your voice is muffled due to how you have hid your face in his chest. At least he's warm.

"My intention wasn't to cause you injury or physical pain."

You look up at him, finally making eye contact. He's looking at you as well, eyes shining with regret, guilt and what appears to be shame.

What really surprises you though, is the pleading tone of his voice. It's one thing to be vulnerable because he's hungry for sexual contact and another because he genuinely cares for you.

"Can you ever forgive me for this? I promise, it was never my true intention. I just... I got carried away. And now... It's not an excuse..."

"You really meant none of it to happen between us?"

"Now now little deer! Someone's getting ahead of themselves! That's not what I implied at all."

You sigh and settle in his lap.

"Oh mon cher, did you really think I regret our... stimulating times?"

Alastor's long arms press you against him, his clothes absorbing the water on your still bare skin. He then peaks you up bridal style and carries you to your bed. It's not king sized like his but he doesn't seem to care for such detail right now.

"Now let me see you."

"I said I'm fine!"

"The artist will be the evaluator of his work."

"No Al! Artists get critics to evaluate their work."

"Hmmm, did you say something dear? Cause I didn't hear you!"

It's a common tactic of his to hide his real feelings by being chatty and pleasant. You of course know that, but in your current state it's very validating to have him take care of you.

So he did care. And he still does after having stopped necessarily needing you.

Alastor isn't joking around. He's searching your body, subconsciously writing down every scratch, every bruise and hickey, every bite mark.

Ears alert on top of his head, eyes wide open. He can even make out the shape of his fingertips on your hips... He turns you on your stomach only to discover his whole palms are imprinted on your buttocks. Meanwhile, you just allow him to inspect your body for as long as he wishes. All the crying has left you drained but also tranquil and calm.

"I'm fine Al. Really."

"Shhh, I'm not done evaluating the damage."

"It's just a bite or two."

"I drew so much blood..."

"Yes and?"

He just keeps observing, keeps rolling you this way and that. The scratches and the bruises are the most triggering to him. They remind Alastor of unhappy memories, in the days when he still hadn't taken good care of his father. As long as he hasn't permanently marked you it should be fine.

"I'll ask Niffty for some ice."

"N- no... Can we just... sit here? Like... cuddle?"

"You were my solace."

"What-"

He gently presses a finger on your lips to shush you.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to say that. It's not like I helped you with a flat tire or something."

"I don't do cuddling."

"Nor touching for that matter. But... It's not that bad, huh? Just let me put something on first."

You stand up and go to your closet to pick something to put on. Your hair is still wet and your legs still feel sore from all of your intense moments, but it was a relief to know he still wants you in his life after the rut has ended.

Alastor's behaviour makes you wonder. He's contradictory. From fucking your throat in his radio station, to bending you over various objects in the hotel, taking you in missionary, against walls, windows and doors, he still seems pretty reluctant to give himself to intimacy. Unlike those times, his mind is now clear, no overwhelming heat involved. Intimacy -to him- equals vulnerability and vulnerability equals pain. The inevitable way in which things had worked out in his life.

"But we did sleep together until yesterday."

The radio demon cannot deny you. He's already sat at the edge of your bed, taking off his coat, shoes and anything else that could make the experience any less enjoyable.

"I wish I could say you'll take this to your grave."

You grin brightly and chuckle at his silly, little remark. Your confidence has been restored to an extent after he made it clear that he does concern himself with your wellbeing.

"But why do you not like being touched? Physical contact is a form of affection."

"Or a form of punishment, of intimidation, domination and... many other vile things my dear..." His voice is too low for your liking as he says that. You don't know what burdens Alastor's shoulders, but it can't be good. And I'm not even referring to his own cruelty and the pain he has inflicted on others. Maybe his opinion of physical contact is connected to the endless scars on his body.

"Oh well whatevs Al. I just want my cuddles."

The way his ears are pulled back and he looks at you almost like he's a shy and innocent boy makes your heart bit faster. At least there's no velvet rubbing off his antlers this time.

Alastor is extremely gentle and cautious in the way he handles you now. He lays down on his back and you use his chest as a pillow. It's a cozy place. His chest. He has some fluff there, just like Angel Dust, but unlike the former he hides it under layers of clothing and keeps it unstyled. Still, it's undoubtedly soft and fuzzy and you like to sink your hand in it or swirl the soft hairs around your fingertips. The radio demon isn't complaining as one might expect, it's soothing to have someone touch his body in a non-hostile manner. It's refreshing to have someone appreciate his body as it is.

Would you also appreciate it if you saw him as he once was?

His father hadn't. He could handle the child of a mixed marriage, but Alastor wasn't just mixed, but also looked the part and according to the racist beliefs of his father in the 1900's that was a bad thing.

As you're nuzzling against his long and elegant neck, your friend's mind wanders. You lived during the 90's. What would it have been like if he had also lived during that period? Everything would have been different. The town he grew up in, his relationship with his parents, his career as a radio host and a serial killer.

"Did you know that my hair is naturally curly?"

Your ears perk up at that and Alastor gently takes hold of them and pulls at them from the root, just slightly.

"That feels nice..."

"Oh I know."

"What were you saying?"

"Oh yes, my hair's curly! Since I was nothing but a tiny, adorable baby boy! ...my mother... she..." His hand lets go of your ears and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh.

There's a melancholy about him now and you feel the need to comfort him. He's opening up to you by being genuine and vulnerable. Alastor is sharing a part of who he used to be and the least you can do is listen. You resume your activities on his fluff, almost massaging the area. He seems to like it, for a moment closing his eyes and letting a sound like purring.

"Can you keep this up?"

"Sure Al."

"Merci. What was I saying...? Oh yes of course! Mama and my curly mop."

The radio effect of his voice and his arms around you make you feel like you're a kid being told a bedtime story. It's a good thing the other residents have gotten used to you and Alastor disappearing together for long periods of time. His soft chest fluff under the pads of your fingers only intensifies the feeling of being told a story while tucked in bed, warm and safe from the outside world.

"It's truly amazing how much power is given to hair in certain cultures. In my culture, dear y/n, hair texture served as an indicator of social status. My family -a wedding between a white man and a creole woman of colour... oh ho dear! It was something else back then...-

As a kid, I was always the one teased for having “weird hair”, as if it didn’t match my other facial features. When school began, my sweet mama, she... she would put my hair in locs to protect the curls. Apparently they didn't like that at school! So my father... he radio static intensifies he made my mother shave it. He claimed that if my mother and I wore our hair differently then no one would take us seriously."

You take a moment to digest this new piece information. It's true that locs enclose the natural hair and help it stay intact. It's also true that Alastor grew up in a time when it was very difficult to be of a cultural background which was different to the majority's. You choose to not comment on anything, that's not your job.

You swirl some more of his fluff around your fingertips before moving your hand to his hair.

"Well, it's not curly in the afterlife."

You feel the vibration of his chuckle through your check that is resting on his chest.

"But it is!"

Alastor lets out a satisfied sound as he presses you even tighter against him and begins rumbling about his hair care routine. He uses anti frizz oils, heat protection oils and then blow dries it. Truth is, that's just the steps you managed to actually register in your brain, because a sleepiness started overtaking you as you stayed laying in his embrace.

You're now fading between consciousness and unconsciousness. It almost feels like you're floating. Is this what Heaven is like?

Maybe it is. Maybe it is not. But you did manage to find your little oasis in Hell. And so did he.

Alastor looks down at your much smaller frame curled up against him. Your breath has slowed down and your eyes are closing. Why does it feel so warm and soft to have you close to him like this? He knows he shouldn't be letting his guard down, but he can't help it when it comes to you. The radio demon is enamoured with you.

Wanting to make the experience even cozier and dreamier for his favourite sinner, Alastor starts singing quietly. His sense of rhythm is immaculate and his jazzy tunes make you fall sound asleep in no time whatsoever.

When you wake up an hour or so later, he still hasn't moved, but he acknowledges that you're awake with a small hum.

"Oh wakey wakey my darling y/n!" had been his usual response to you waking up while he was in the rut. However, right now he appears to be much more unguarded and raw than his usual persona. You haven't even completely woken up and you're already wondering about this new side of him.

"Al? Is everything okay?"

"Oh why yes it is, but there's this thought occupying my brilliant mind..."

"Care to share it with my not so brilliant one?"

You expected him to laugh or even chuckle but Alastor goes straight to the point. "All this... making love and we still haven't kissed. Not really."

Kissing him would mean that you actually view him romantically and that whatever "friends with benefits" situation you had going on will get destroyed. That's not a bad thing though. Despite your initial fears of your fellow deer demon being too emotionally unavailable and only needing you to calm down the torment of his lust, a kiss wouldn't hurt. Kisses are good.

"We can change that y'know."

You make the first step by leaning towards him, basically giving him the green light that you're consenting to this. Alastor notices it and loses no time, pressing his lips against yours while wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close into another embrace. He smiles widely as you kiss, his head tilting slightly as he runs his fingers through your hair. After a few seconds pass, he pulls his head back, slowly breaking the kiss as he looks into your eyes with a broad smile on his face.

"Aren't you delightful?!" and he dives back in.

Alastor's second kiss with you is firm and passionate, but not overly aggressive. His lips are very warm and he seems to enjoy the intimacy of taking his time to explore your mouth. As the kiss progresses, he gradually increases the pressure of his lips on yours. His arms wrap around your waist and his tongue slowly wanders further into the welcoming heat of your mouth.

Once again -just like when it came to sex- you have come to the conclusion that Alastor isn't that experienced, but some raw power, an instinct if you will, provides him with the ability to do all the right moves at the right time.

And then you just break character. You burst into laughter. His large and pointed ears twitch at that change of pace.

"When I thought I was doing a good job-"

"Oh no, that's not it at all. I'm just happy." You're giddy and so he is.

Maybe not needing you but actually wanting you isn't the worst case scenario.

To be continued.

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[mandarinmoons]

ONE HUG is all i ask for 😭

i am incoherent when i cry. i need him to hold me in his arms while i sob just hold me close and listen to me tell him all my troubles and worries

can this count as a request? like they’re coworkers and something idk what happened on a case that triggered reader to just completely breakdown

hate to be dramatic (ha actually it’s my favorite thing to be) but i’d trust later seasons Spencer with my whole life and i’d be the most grateful girl in the world if you wrote this i swear i’d never take anything for granted again

no pressure though my ketty kat

thank you bbygirl 😔🙏

A suspect in your latest case had been arrested and you were the one asked to question him. During the interview the suspect managed to flip the script and started asking questions from you. You tried your best to keep a straight face and lead the conversation back to the interview, but some of the things he said struck a nerve with you and you excused yourself.

You walked out of the room, took a deep breath and quickly walked to a vacant office so that no one could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Reaching an empty office you grabbed the handle with your shaky hands to open it, but alas it was locked. You kept trying to budge to see if it was possibly stuck, but it wasn’t. 

A moment later you heard your name being called and you quickly wiped the tears from your eyes. Turning around you saw Spencer jog up to you and look at you worryingly.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah I just needed a minute alone.”

“Your eyes are red.”

You looked down to hide your face, but that didn’t work with Spencer. He took your hand and guided you back to an empty office.

“What’s really going on?”

Knowing Spencer, he wouldn’t let you be until you told him what was wrong. It wasn’t the first time he pulled you aside when he noticed you looked a bit out of it and every time he was very sweet and understanding, so why hide it?

“Well the unsub, or well the guy we think is the unsub, he ended up turning the questions I asked him on me and um…” the tears gathered around your eyes again and your voice turned shaky.

Spencer’s protective instincts kicked in and immediately pulled you against his chest, one hand on the small of your back while the other one held your head.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

The tears rolled down your cheeks and sobs racked through your body as Spencer held you and comforted you, his hold on you getting stronger as your hands gripped his shirt.

Slowly but surely your cries calmed down but Spencer’s hold on you was still as firm as before, he wasn’t going to let you go until he knew you were alright.

As you rested your head on Spencer’s chest his hand ran through your hair, his touches feeling so feather light that you felt like you could fall asleep at any moment.

You looked up at him through your lashes and saw his eyes shining down on you, this man was always going to be concerned about you.

“Thanks Spence.”

Spencer smiled and brushed his thumb over your cheek, “Feeling any better?”

“A lot better yeah,” you nodded and lifted your head. Spencer’s hand still rested on your back, his thumb caressing it slightly making you feel goosebumps go up your arms.

“I’m going to take over the questioning. I don’t want you to get upset again.”

“Spencer, it's fine. I was just being emotional, I’ve-,”

“I do not want you to cry again,” Spencer’s jaw seemed tense and it looked like he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, all you could do was nod and accept it.

Spencer brought you close again for a hug and this time it seemed more personal, his lips rested against your forehead and your heart felt like it was going to leap out of your chest when you felt him press a light kiss to it.

“Go rest at your desk now, I’ve got this.”

Both of you walked out of the office and Spencer took you to your desk, making sure that you were sitting and not going back to do the interview. He looked back at you while walking away and you felt your heart stop again.

Half an hour later Spencer walked out of the interrogation room and announced that the man had confessed and he’d been arrested. His first thought was to come over and check up on you so he strode through the halls to find you still sat at your desk.

“How’d it go?”

“He confessed.”

“That’s good,” Spencer nodded and walked over to you.

“Your cheeks are still a bit red.”

“Yeah, they’ll go away soon don’t worry,” you chuckled and seeing you smile made Spencer smile as well. 

Your eyes met for a moment but it was cut short by Spencer clearing his throat.

“I should go, I have some paperwork to finish up,” Spencer was about to turn around, but you took a hold of his hand before he had a chance to.

“Thanks again, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

You both shared a smile and Spencer moved on to his work, unbeknownst to you that he was hiding a smile and slightly flushed cheeks on the walk back to his desk.

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[nurse-sainz]

Hi can u write a f!Reader x lando where the reader is anaemic has vry low iron? Like where he helps her when she’s feeling sick and takes care of her. Thought this would be fitting as ur a nurse!! A comfort/fluff/hurt fic super excited for ur upcoming works.

I am SO sorry this is so late! My mental health has been awful as late and chronic fatigue has been kicking my butt! I hope you enjoy this little ficlet <3

You sat on one of the chairs in the McLaren garage, watching the screens with your bright orange headphones during the last free practice. You were excited being there to support your boyfriend, Lando but you also wanted nothing more than to be curled up in the king size bed that waited for you back at your hotel.

Lando, hadn’t missed how pale you had looked that morning, how slugging your movements had been as you practically crawled out of the hotel bed to follow him and hang out at the paddock for the day.

“I think we should make another doctor's appointment for you with the next break coming up, what do you think?”

You had groaned in response. You hated doctors and needles but you knew he was right. You’d always suffered with low iron and the telltale symptoms were exactly the same as last time. Admittedly with all the travel you hadn’t been keeping up with the supplements the doctor had provided last time.

Lando tried to tell you that you didn’t need to come, that you could sleep in a little longer and follow him later for quali, but you argued. Lando knew better than to continue that argument when you were so adamant in your ways.

As soon as FP3 ended and Lando was out of his car, you were the first person he looked for. He could see the exhaustion on your face, how pale you looked and the way you leant against the wall as if you’d fall if it wasn’t there. He pushed his way to your side and held your elbows in support. “I suppose if I told you to go back to the hotel you wouldn’t, would you?”

You shook your head and immediately regretted it as a wave of dizziness washed over you.

“Come on, let’s get you sat down,” he said as he gently guided you towards the hospitality area.

He kept one hand around your back for support as he loaded up a plate full of snacks and grabbed a bottle of water for you. He led you towards his driver's room and settled you down on the sofa pulling off your shoes to make you comfortable. He turned the TV on, so you could still watch him in support and he’d have the peace of mind you were resting.

“Thank you, Lan,” you whispered. You hated being ill, hated looking so weak but you knew Lando didn’t see you any less for it and loved and cared for you anyway.

As soon as qualifying was over and he’d fulfilled his media duties, Lando took charge and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He helped you to your feet, with a supportive hand around your back as he led you towards his car. He buckled you in, despite your protest that you could do it yourself as he leant in and placed a kiss to your cheek. “Let me look after you baby.”

The pair of you drove towards your home for the weekend. Lando ordered takeout for you both as you threw on your cozy LN4 hoodie and climbed under the covers. As you both tucked into your meals, you couldn’t help but be so grateful to have a boyfriend like Lando in your life.

[crushmeeren]

How the AOT Boys Eat You Out

Levi & Eren

I’ve been telling myself I needed to get out of my comfort zone and write for something BESIDES MHA, so please enjoy my AOT headcannons lol. I’ll probably write some for JJK too, so stay tuned friends!

Master list.

————————————————————————

Levi

Levi, in my opinion, doesn’t have the craziest sex drive. Don’t get it twisted, Levi does thoroughly enjoy having sex with you. He just unfortunately often has the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The man’s got a fuck ton of responsibilities and he views sex as messy. As something that he prefers, and needs, to take his time with.

But what Levi does have a healthy appetite for — is eating your pussy.

He can make it quick. He can make your toes curl, leave you satiated, and he doesn’t have to worry about showering or cleaning much afterwards.

Levi especially can’t resist you when you’re fresh out of the shower. Clean skin so warm and so so soft. The way you smell reminding him of summertime. In the way that coconut and sunscreen and the beach only can.

“Levi,” you call out, vying for his attention as you halt in the door frame of his home office. His fingers freeze on his keyboard, gaze flickering over to you.

He remains silent, tilting his head in acknowledgment as he reaches out a hand towards you. Waving you forward with two fingers.

You end up seated in his lap. Straddling him as your large t-shirt bunches up around your bare thighs.

Levi’s thumbs press bruises into your hipbones when you whisper in his ear how badly you want his cock, brushing your lips over his jawline.

He fucking hates his bullshit job even more in this moment.

Levi shifts you around swiftly. Planting you in his chair, encouraging you to hook your legs over the arms to spread your pussy wide open for him as he sinks to his knees.

“Want me to eat your pussy baby?” He asks, voice low and smooth like whiskey.

“Fuck — please Levi,” you moan. Breath shaky on your next exhale as Levi flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue. He hums a sound akin to approval, slipping his middle two fingers into your pussy to keep you full.

The man is nothing if not efficient.

His fingers curl and tap against your sweet spot as he sucks gently on your clit. Alternating between that and licking fast stripes to work you over the edge.

Your fingers card through his soft black hair, tugging tightly the closer you get.

The muscles in your thighs twitch and jump, chewing on your bottom lip as you watch his soft lips close around your clit once more.

His steel gray eyes have fallen half lidded when they meet yours next and it takes you over the edge.

Warmth surges through your limbs and you can only choke on his name.

“Good girl — cum for me just like that,” Levi purrs, letting his sweet words carry you through your orgasm as he presses his fingers deeper.

Once you’ve gone limp, Levi sends you to bed with a promise of what’s to come.

————————————————————————

Eren

If you looked up the definition of hothead a picture of Eren would be in its place.

If you’re being honest, it’s a part of what made you so drawn to him in the first place.

But, he’s an incredible boyfriend, he really is. Loyal to a fault, honest, never afraid to speak his mind — and he’s always taking care of you. Albeit, he is reckless.

That being said, it’s effortless to rile him up. And it’s really fun to turn him on and get his hackles rising simultaneously.

Eren’s messy when he’s mad and you’ll piss him off just so he’ll take it out on your pussy. Taunting him, teasing him, being a brat until his cheeks flush bubblegum pink. Green eyes seething.

You whine, restless where you lay flat on your back in bed. Struggling to unlace your fingers from Eren’s. It only makes him squeeze tighter.

The urge to twist and yank on Eren’s hair while he eats you out is vehement, but he won’t let you go. Your legs jerk to close around his head but his broad shoulders take up all the space between your thighs.

“Stop fucking wiggling,” Eren warns, tongue pulling away from your clit. You’re starting to lose feeling in your fingers.

“But Eren —“

“Hush baby,” Eren demands, leveling you with a pointed glare. “You don’t deserve to play with my hair right now and you sure as hell don’t deserve my fingers in your pussy,” he says, voice harsh and heated. Strands of hair have started to come loose from his bun, sticking to his forehead.

You push your lower lip out at him, weakly attempting to free your hands. Eren looks unimpressed, raising his eyebrows in return. The base of your skull bounces when it hits the mattress in defeat, huffing as you go.

Eren snorts, ignoring your complaints to lick over your clit once again. He gives you slow strokes with the flat of his warm tongue until you’re toeing the line of an orgasm.

You cling to his hands in a death grip, breath hitching and words stuttering as you try to forewarn him you’re about to cum.

Then he just stops, leaving you swollen and throbbing and kicking at his shoulder for ruining your orgasm.

Eren only snickers, winding that knot up behind your bellybutton before letting it fade away twice more before you’re truly pleading with him to make you cum.

Your pussy’s drooling by the time he’s done. Dripping down to your ass as you flex your fingers. Pins and needles tingling through your hands.

Eren will finally satisfy your ache to be split open. Pushing your thighs to your chest and letting his cock do the rest of the work to make you squirt as he chases his own high.

[thepromptswhisperer]

"You're rejecting me?" Prompts

“Have you ever wondered about - I don’t know… - what could have been had I not rejected you back then?”

“You’re rejecting me? Me? Do you not know who I am?”

“One of these days, I will stop trying.”

“Are you saying that you never got rejected before? Lucky.”

“I knew this would happen. Anytime I dare to dream - BAM! - it gets crushed.”

“I’ve never seen you taking a rejection so poorly before.”

“That was brutal.” “I was just being honest.” “Still. You didn’t have to be a jerk about it.”

“You already said it all when you rejected me back at the–” “Rejected you? What are talking about?”

“I take it back.” “What?” “My words. I take them back.”

“I don’t know what else to say or do for them to realize that there will never be anything between us.”

“I reject any and all realities where you don’t agree to give me - us - a chance.”

“You thought I was hitting on you? That’s just ridiculous.”

“I thought I could handle it, being around them after that. But… I don’t think I’m doing all too well.”

“I feel awful. Their face when I-” “You did the right thing by telling them that you feel differently.”

“Can I ask you a question? For future reference? What about my approach made you not want to get to know me?”

“It’s been weeks since–” “They trampled all over my heart? And my dignity?” “It’s time to get back up, don’t you think?”

“I’m not strong enough to say ‘no’ to them.”

“Nice. Another humiliation/rejection to add to the pile.”

“No, no. I do. Believe me, I do genuinely like you. It’s just… Ugh. This will sound like a lame excuse, but… I’m not yet ready. Not for you. Not for us.”

“I’m not afraid of getting rejected. I just… don’t want to bother them.”

“I… I don’t think I can give you that. I’m sorry.”

“So now that they rejected you, you think you can just come crawling back to me?”

“I completely understand if you need some space.”

“Why? Why do you think we wouldn’t work?”

“I would never reject you. Never.”

“Why would I keep chasing you? You already said you’re not interested.”

“Be honest with me: Am I a complete mess? Because that rejection just made me want them even more.”

“I’m going to pretend they are in a relationship and that that’s why they rejected me.”

“Damn. Bringing up my childhood trauma would have been less painful than this.”

“Are we going to be okay? I don’t want this to have changed anything between us.”

“Still. I’m glad I said something.”

“You deserve the best. And that’s… That’s not me.”

“You know what I think? I think you’re scared.” 

“All good. You reciprocating would have been far scarier anyway, so I’m… almost glad you don’t.”

[adreamemporium]

Hi! Since you saw Ewan at CCXF and outside of it, I wanna ask if you think Ewan loves fan saying hi to him or he only did it to be polite? Also is there anything else you can share about your meeting with Ewan?

I’ve also seen some people on here saying that they think Ewan looked uncomfortable at times at CCXF. Whats your thoughts on that?

Hi, nonnie!

About your last question, I couldn’t see anything because I was behind them so all I could see was their back lol. Also the audio wasn’t great and with all the screaming I couldn’t hear anything. I thought everything was going well because all their managers and their team were behind them and they were smiling. I already saw the interview on YouTube and I think the whole thing was messy and cringe, the questions weren’t that interesting, that guy saying Mexican women would love to keep him in their homes… So as a whole, that was a mess. Minutes later I saw him in the thunder stage and he was relaxed, so I don’t think there was a problem after that. What I think is that he is way more calm when you are talking alone with him and that’s the real Ewan. He does an incredible job on stage, but we shouldn’t get fool, he has a reserved personality.

About the rest of your ask, have in mind that I’m again talking based on what I experienced, I would say he truly loves saying hi to the fans. We have to consider that we are talking about the same guy that takes the time to send little messages to his fans when he receives fan mail.

The first time I saw him I was working and he was doing press, so the two times I talked with him were brief and it was just a kinda random talk lol it was when he told me he needed a hat for the sun. That day I mostly saw him work while I was doing my own.

The second time I met him he recognized me and smiled to me, so I said hi and it was when he made room for me to sit down at his side. We talked for a few minutes (although I felt it was for hours lol) about how different book!Aemond is to the show version and I told him I loved what he and Leo did with the character and they were the reason Aemond was my favorite character cuz when I read the book he wasn’t my fav. He simply smiled and thanked me for what I was saying. I told him I had a fanart and that it would mean the world to me if he could signed it and he took the time to admired it before doing it and see the details.

But I think what I will treasure the most (apart from having one of my Aemond designs autographed) will be when I gave him the dragon egg I made for him. I explained to him that I’m a dragon fan since I was little and that back during got s1 I couldn’t find the dragon eggs to buy them, so I made them. While I was saying all of that he was attentively looking at me and listening, so when I started to taking the egg out of my purse he started to realize what I was gonna give him and had a huge smile when he saw the little green egg and simply excitedly exclaimed “Vhagar!”. I swear he looked like a little kid with a toy, he took it and started to see all the details, asked me how long it took me and then he told me “You’re a legend!” and hugged me. I swear to god I wasn’t expecting it and almost died in that moment. His manager asked me if I wanted a picture and he quickly said yes because he wanted to show the egg, so she kindly took it, we talked for a few more minutes and then he asked me if I was going to be at ccxp, I said yes and he told me he hoped to see me there and then we said goodbye. And that was it. 🥹

I swear to god he is everything the rest of the cast have said he is: the loveliest person ever, a complete angel, super gentle, incredible thoughtful, kind, a fantastic human being… and I have just quoted Elliot Grihault, Harry Collet, Tom Glynn Carney and Fabien Frankel only.

So tl;dr, if you ask me, no, he didn’t do it just to be polite, he truly cares and enjoys saying hi to his fans. He truly listen to what we say and takes him time with us. What it is import here is to ALWAYS respect him, his privacy, his boundaries and not be invasive. He is open to meet us, make sure we aren’t nervous, listen to what we wanna say, tell us that everything’s ok… but let’s not forget that at the end, he is also a human being as any of us and he does has a reserved personality.

PS. BTW, I just wanna add something else. When I was literally admiring my design with his autograph and saying it would have a pretty frame, both, his manager and him, said “aaw” lol 🥹

Here is my design:

[chrolloluvr]

Hi, happy to see you back❤. I remember in one of your previous works, you mentioned Mammon possibly would babytrap reader. May you please write something on this topic?

♡ Toxic!Mammon: Babytrapping Hcs ♡

Note: Ty! Also she is referring to this post. THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REQUESTS!!! KEEP THEM COMING POOKIES! ALSO IK I HAVENT MADE AN ACTUAL POST IN A WHILE SO HERE YALL GO

Female!reader, AFAB

Warnings: NSFW, toxic themes, creampie, future child, exploiting

He will babytrap you, 100%

As I have said before, Mammon likes the idea of having complete control over you, your life, and everything you do. And what better of a way to do that than making you bear his child?

He gets this magical, invasive idea when talking to one of his work buddies. He was talking about how annoying you were, even though he cannot live without you, when his co-worker mentions how much responsibility and care a woman has for her children. And the idea hits him. If you are just going to sit around lazily all day like a spoiled brat, why not add a child into the mix?

So he will have you prowled up against his chest, his cock basically stuffing you full, as he pistons in and out of your already sore pussy. Seemingly out of nowhere, telling you

"You'd be such a good mother, wouldn't you babe."

"'Wanna see you swoll with my kids, wouldn't that be somethin'-"

Which makes you feel physically ill. Raising a child with Mamm would be basically impossible. You would never raise a child with this man. Would he support you? Would he genuinley care for your baby? Oh Satan, would he even care-

Your thoughts are abrupted as Mammon stuffs you with his seed, finishing inside yours walls and painting them with a loud groan. He gives your ass a harsh slap, as he watches his cum spilling out of you. He looks you in the eyes, and gives you a daunty chuckle. He forces you to look up at him with your tired, exhausted eyes, as he tells you ohoho babe, we aren't finished until i'm done, alright?.

And he keeps that promise, with the goal of getting you pregnant. He knows the public would go feral. The King of Greed? With a child? It gives him a publicity boost, which in turn, is good for his business, and his image.

Once you find out you are pregnant, you have to eventually tell Mammon, to your dismay. Every day, he makes you take an on brand pregnancy test as he watches. He will hold the test while you pee. Yes you heard me right. So when the test says positive one day, he is over the moon. Not at the fact that he is going to be a father, but at the fact that he is now in complete control over you, and that he can use another part of you as a pawn in his twisted fantasy.

The paparazzi have a field day over this news, because he ends up almost immediately making an announcement. There are headlines, candid photos of you going forcefully outside by mammon, etc. Its like a never ending nightmare. And dont be mistaken, he would never let you out of his sights, or get an abortion. He thinks this is too good of an opportunity.

Behind closed doors, he will actually treat you very well. Feeding you, paying attention to your every need, and not letting you lift a finger. He may even go out of his way to find some stuff by himself at the store. He'll will make you go outside with him. But at times he has to do a meeting, or host an event, he will have his goons escort you places, making sure you go public routes, to get a really good look at your swollen belly.

Brings you to meetings during this time, and picking your outfits carefully. He cant have his darling wearing any disgusting maternity clothes. So he will have you perches on his lap while he sits in his seat, embarrassment eating you whole as you see the sins/overlords snickering and bickering presumably at you. He has one hand rubbing your round belly, and one hand rubbing your shoulders as Mammon discusses his newest buisness plan.

He would create a Mammon Baby Care line. He knows he will profit off your pregnancy

"Alright fellas, so i was thinking for the ladys, a Mammon breast pump, hm? Its great right? Oh! And Mammon themed bibs, ha! Sure to make me a bunch, right babes?"

People think, how could you let Mammon knock you up? Of course, millions of girls idolize Mammon, and would want to be with him. But sometimes it feels like you are the only one who is infatuated with him. So you will try to look past the fact that he got you pregnant. You'll just try to be hopeful. But it is literally impossible with the way he keeps sweet talking you, as you snap back into the sad reality that you will be having Mammons child, and raising it. No questions to be asked.

He will lead you to subconsciously feel insecure about you and your body. He will squeeze your newly chubby cheeks, glaze his fingers over your stretch marks newly littering your body, etc. And he definitely does that on purpose.

As you reach up to the half full Nutella jar in the high cabinet in the kitchen, you hear a pair of loud footsteps coming behind you. Its Mammon. You try your best to ignore him, but you cant help but feel uneasy when you feel a pair of familiar eyes on you. It is currently 1:30 AM, and he is in a really tired mood.

"You need help sweets?"

He said with a suckle voice, knowing its affects on you are vast. He looks you up and down, admiring your perfect body in his mind. Your curves, belly, and the look your giving him. It makes him want to just bend you over and fuck your brains out likes theres no tomorrow. But he cant, he just has to be extra agile with you.

"Mamm..."

"Yeah?"

"Do I look fat?"

Ohhh boy. The question you always ask when you feel like he's eyeing you up. he hates when you ask that, because then he has to make up some half assed excuse to why he's looking at you a certain way. When your pregnant, he basically has to walk on eggshells around you.

"You... look like your carrying my child, and I like the sight of that."

"Okay, do you love me?"

He pauses. One wrong answer, and you'll refuse to talk to him for weeks. You two, as of your relationship, are in a really good spot right now. You will basically do anything for him. But you are really sensitive emotionally and physically, due to your hormones.

As he walks up behind you, he lifts you up by your waist, and hold you up to the cabinet, letting you reach.

"Y/N."

He says in a low, gruff voice.

"Yeah Mamm?"

"What the hell kind of question is that. Of course I love you."

He says as you look at him, face to face. You watch his eyes never leave yours, which makes you break off eye contact in a flustered state. You then realize that he is holding you, which makes you feel insecure.

"Okay, I love you too Mamm"

"Alright, now get your sweet treat, and get the fuck to bed, and hurry up. We've got a busy day tomorrow sweets."

He sets you down, and leaves the kitchen, leaving you with yourself, your Nutella and a spoon in hand. You look down at yourself, and your huge stomach. You wonder how you got yourself into this twisted predicament. You mostly worry about your baby's future as Mammons child. Because you are aware that Mammon will only use them for his own monetary gain. You cannot escape this man, even if you try. But you can always pretend you have your own free will, and you could always just eat your silly thoughts away, as Mammon always told you.

[cherryluvss]

Clitwarming >>

Just imagining myself lounging around at home while my s/o is working tirelessly at their desk. They haven't taken a break as they know they have to get this work finished but they're nowhere near done.

So I decide to waltz myself over to their home office and take my usual spot under the desk, but I simply place my chin on the base of the chair between their legs, like a puppy craving attention from it's owner.

"I'm sorry baby but I'm so busy right now, you're gonna have to wait a bit okay?" they coo, cupping my cheek with their hand and showing a sincere smile before putting all their focus back onto the computer screen.

But I want to be the one that helps you out, helps you relieve some stress without having to move from the desk.

"Can we try something? I promise it won't be too distracting, trust me" I whisper faintly, perching up slightly on my knees and trailing my fingertips along their exposed thigh.

It's getting late so all they're wearing is an oversized shirt, luckily that makes it easier for me see what I want.

Before they can even get a word in I place my soft lips around the hood of their neglected clit, my tongue just resting peacefully against the bud of nerves. I won't make any sudden movements though, like I said, I won't be too distracting.

The sweet sound of their breathy gasp as they look back down at me, their thighs closing in on my head to prop it up.

Every now and then I feel them rock against my tongue, their wetness seeping into my mouth with each one whilst I stay put.

That's all I'm here for after all, to keep their clit warm in my mouth whilst they use my tongue whenever they need some added friction.

Also helps keep my oral fixation at bay😉

[sanalang-ao33]

VENT ART - twst [name] content.

Description: Whenever [Name] is upset, stressed or angry, painting comforts them. So when they inconveniently get art block in a time of need, it aggravates them.

That night, [Name] wakes up from a nightmare about their Housewarden’s overblot and realizes that he was the perfect muse. So they get to work.

Their new painting ended up getting noticed by their Vice Housewarden.

Format: Bullet Point, Platonic, Angst, Open to Interpretation

Warnings: Thoughts and actions of the characters used below don’t reflect on the author. Also, this might be a little(?) OOC.

< TREY CLOVER >

The painting terrified Trey, so much so it took him a few moments to recognize that the one in the painting was none other than Riddle.

Why did he look like that? Is that how the others see him?

He didn’t look human in the painting. Trey didn’t want to look at it, but he was too frozen in shock to move. He wanted it gone. He wanted to tear the piece apart. 

Seeing his childhood friend’s usually neat appearance, his smile, the shine in his eyes be painted like this? It made him feel all frustrated in a way, because why can’t they see that he’s trying to change now?

Why can’t they understand that when Riddle bawled his eyes out from such a traumatizing event, and how he became less strict and more open to his dorm members?

But seeing [Name]’s haunted expression made him realize that [Name] felt the same way he did just now. Fear, stress, aggravation.

Trey placed his hands on both [Name]’s shoulders, shaking him:

“Do not let anyone else see this. Do you understand?”

“No one else. No one.”

Because he fears what would happen if word of this got out to the entire school.

< JADE LEECH >

…oh? 

What a beautiful piece of art. He liked how you emphasized on the things you were most afraid about Azul during his overblot, one of them being his crazed expression.

He looked like a monster, yet he was surrounded by such ethereal colors that looked like the ocean and its corals. 

It’d be a real shame if Azul found out, right?

Genuinely liked the art and might commission you sometime later. He’s sure you’d do your best if he asked you to paint something for him, because he’s definitely using this against you.

“Hello, [Name]. I’d like to commission a painting. We’ll be hanging it on the Monstro Lounge’s wall, by the entrance.”

“[Name], can I ask for your kind soul to help me around the Lounge this week? Maybe even the week after that?”

Good luck because he will be taking advantage of this new blackmail for the rest of your school life. Or, until he gets bored of tormenting you, maybe?

< ROOK HUNT >

Like Jade, he also thinks the art was beautiful and showered it with compliments. He said that it showed Vil’s beauty even in such a nightmare and ink.

What’s there not to love?

The dark colors accentuate Vil very well and the ink on his form looks majestic as if it’s taking the form of Vil’s clothes in the painting.

Though in your eyes, the Vil in the painting looked like a witch. A crazy, jealous, horrid witch. You kind of feel bad now.

Kind of. 

When he offhandedly said that Vil would love it, you beg him to keep it a secret, fearing Vil’s wrath.

“A secret? This masterpiece?!”

“You are skilled in your craft, Monsieur/Mademoiselle des murs! It’d be a shame to met shch talent go to waste, hidden away from worthy praise.”

Though he promised to keep it a secret, it’ll take some time for it to be revealed to Vil. It’s his own unique way of telling you not to be ashamed of your art and it’s also a way for Vil to see how beautiful he was even at his lowest.

Unique, unpleasant, and definitely uncalled for.

< LILIA VANROUGE>

Lilia is stunned.

“You… made this?”

“Why?”

Why recreate the very being, the worse side of Malleus. Why bring such a tragic, nightmarish event back to life through strokes of dark colors in your palette?

The same one that trapped Sage Island in thorny vines?!

 Lilia was haunted. Afraid. Angry. But when he looks at you, he sees the same things. He sees how you feel the same way as him, as everyone else.

Maybe not to the same degree, but the same emotions regardless.

“If it comforts you, it’s not my place to tell you to stop. But I don’t want to see this painting ever again, do you understand me?”

“If word of this reached out to anyone in Diasomnia, especially Malleus, I’ll see to it that you will face the consequences of your actions.”

He knows it's harsh. Painting is your passion, it’s what keeps you going. This art embodies your emotions, which shouldn’t be hidden away.

But not everyone can understand why you do this. They’ll take it the wrong way and not only will the painting be harmed, but possibly you too.

Because though Diasomnia is among the most respected dorms, even the feared can be fearful. And even the strongest can weep.

Notes: I didn't add Ruggie and Ortho because they aren't official Vice Housewardens. I also didn't add Jamil because though he is the Vice Housewarden, he is the one who overblotted. idk maybe next time

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1

“Shit,” Eddie hisses, “shit, shit, shit.” He grabs Dustin, pulls him up, shakes him by the shoulders, “Dustin, can you hear me? Dustin, wake—”

His voice dies. He feels himself freeze, useless; for a second too long, he’s thrown right back to his living room, to the lights flickering, to Chrissy—

“M’fine,” Dustin mumbles, lifting his head and wincing like it’s too bright. “Ugh, don’t need to shout. Just… dizzy.”

“Dizzy,” Eddie parrots, frantic. “Okay, okay, so—water, right? Right, water, water.”

He scrambles for a glass, pushes the bedroom door wide open so he can keep looking back. Dustin stays put right on the mattress as if in an attempt to reassure Eddie, but seeing him so still is just—it’s wrong.

“Here,” Eddie says. Water spills on his knuckles as he passes the glass over.

Dustin drains the whole thing, but it looks like it hurts to swallow. Like it sticks on the way down.

In his panic, opening and shutting cupboards as if he was a stranger in his own home, Eddie had found a scrap of a bandage in an old first aid kit.

He tightens it around the back of Dustin’s hand, but it’s not even bleeding anymore, just dried blood around the bite—can’t stop thinking that he hasn’t helped at all.

Dustin clearly takes pity on him; he nods at the bandage, says, “Good idea,” like Eddie’s a fucking genius—when Dustin’s the one who cracked a riddle in, like, the first session of Hellfire he attended when it should’ve taken the whole campaign; who reads out Eddie’s homework assignments in the cafeteria, says offhand, “Have you tried…?” and nine times out of ten, he’s right, or pushes Eddie down the right track, at the very least; who Robin calls “Einstein” and “genius child” with a teasing smirk, but she means it; who led Eddie out of utter terror in the boathouse, introduced a world of monsters like it was nothing, like a fucking duck to water…

Eddie picks up the walkie. “Hey, uh, I know we said no deviations, Wheeler—shit, like, we haven’t, but—just, we’ve got a problem, just please say you’re there, please, please.”

Silence. Nothing but static.

“Of course,” Eddie gets out through a shuddering breath; he has to laugh otherwise he’s going to—“Of fucking course. Uh, gonna need to help me out here, Henderson. I’m, like, so far out of my depth it’s not even—”

Dustin snorts. “Blind leading the blind here, dude,”—English essay due next week, Eddie thinks reflexively, stupidly—“hey, maybe you should be taking notes, like, this is a scientific discovery—”

“That’s not funny,” Eddie snaps, “that’s not even fucking remotely funny.”

Dustin falls silent.

Immediately, Eddie feels a cold wave of guilt; Dustin needs someone well-versed in all this shit, not an amateur—needs one of the others, someone who can be flippant and cool-headed. Needs Steve.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. “Fuck, just ignore me.”

Dustin nods, lips twitching into a dry smile, yeah, that’s what I usually do. There’s still an air of himself there, a spark in his fever bright eyes that reassures Eddie only slightly. Because there’s fear on his face too, of course there is—like the poorly received joke he’d made had really been for Eddie’s benefit. Like Dustin was trying to calm him down instead.

Jesus Christ, get it together, Munson.

“Hey,” Eddie manages after several deep breaths. “We’ll work it out, okay?”

He lifts his hand up and Dustin, after a pause, high fives him, the gesture not nearly as enthusiastic as before. His palm feels cold, tacky with sweat.

“Yeah,” Dustin says quietly. “Yeah, we’ll…”

He wobbles slightly, like the high five’s knocked him off balance. But that can’t—Eddie was so careful, he’d barely—

“We can just look at the stars,” Dustin says nonsensically.

Ice forms in Eddie’s gut.

“What?” he says loudly, swallows back bile—tries to sound like they’re just at Hellfire, and Dustin’s said something particularly off the wall. “That doesn’t—woah, no, stay sitting up, you hear me? Hello, earth to Dustin?” He clamps down hard on Dustin’s shoulders. “How about, uh, more water,” he babbles inadequately, “yeah, you just—no, no, don’t move—”

Dustin’s frowning, squirming beneath Eddie’s hands. “Can’t you see them?” he says, so unsure, Eddie’s never heard him sound so… “They’re right…”

All at once, he freezes.

Eddie instinctively looks up, half convinced that another nightmare’s come crawling through the Gate, but—

“Steve?” Dustin says. His voice cracks. “Steve.”

“He’s coming back,” Eddie says quickly, “I swear. I—I just couldn’t reach them on the walkie, but—”

“Steve,” Dustin repeats, louder now. Builds into a scream, fighting against Eddie’s hold, “Steve!”

His eyes, too wide, too bright, slide away into the distance, like he’s watching something Eddie can’t see.

And Eddie’s right; he’s so far out of his depth, he’s practically drowning. But somehow he knows that—

“It’s not real,” he says, wraps an arm tight around Dustin; he can’t let him—“Dustin, I promise, it’s not—”

As Dustin wails incomprehensibly, he grabs the walkie. It’s just static again, but he’s desperate. Lost.

“Help,” Eddie whispers.

[murkycran]

Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List

Welcome to my Radiostatic/Voxal Fic Rec List! ^_^ This will include romantic, platonic, and/or queerplatonic Radiostatic fics (and admittedly probably a couple of Radiosilence fics, too).

I will keep updating this periodically as I read more fics, so feel free to check back every once and a while! I'll reblog it when I update it, plus make a note with the date at the top. Trust me, this is by no means a complete list; there's fics I still want to add to this that I just haven't gotten to yet. I just decided to go ahead and post it anyways, because if I kept waiting until I ran out of fics to rec I'd probably be working on this forever.

These are not in any particular order; I'm going by both my Bookmarks list on AO3 and my memory of fics I forgot to bookmark. I also tried to make notes on what fics were written before season 1 released, but I might have missed some, so keep that in mind.

Please let me know if any links don't work or are wrong!

✨Before you proceed:✨ read the tags on these fics if you decide to read them. Many of them have heavy material - no surprise given the fandom, but still, felt like this needed said. On that note, there's also fics with explicit material and some fics are straight up PWP. Again, read at your own risk/heed the tags.

Fic Rec List Masterpost

Staticmoth Fic Rec List

Misc. Vox Fic Rec List

------

Radio Healed the Video Star by Aspiring_Forest_Witch

Summary: Alastor comes across an unconscious and battered Vox while out on one of his strolls. He feels compelled to bring him back to the hotel.

Notes: 98% of this fic was written before season 1 was released, so keep that in mind, because there's obviously going to be inconsistencies with canon. It's nearly finished (at least according to the author's notes in the latest chapters, I think). I suggest pacing yourself with this one - it's nearly 700k words long. I ruined a good sleep schedule staying up to get through it. (So worth it though.) There are quite a few OCs in later chapters, but they're such good OCs. You fall in love with them just as much as the canon characters, I swear. I would die for Verity and the Trio.

Let's Misbehave by joosymango

Summary: Alastor wins a bet against Vox, now his rival must stop pestering him for two weeks. It should be a pleasant break! So why does he miss the idiot?

Notes: Vaguely inspired by Aspiring_Forest_Witch's Radio Healed the Video Star. Also largely written before season 1 release. First fic I read for the HH fandom. ^_^

Safe with Me Series by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Having only ever set his sights on men who treat women with odious disrespect, Alastor never thought he'd take interest in Vox's turbulent relationship with his fiancé and business partner, Valentino. He decides to lend a helping hand in the hopes of getting Vox out of his sticky situation. After all, what are childhood enemies for?

Unfortunately, neither Alastor nor Vox could've predicted the rollercoaster of unsaid emotions and future horrors that are thrown their way. Will they be able to rely on each other and get by unscathed? Or will destiny have other plans for these two?

[HUMAN AU] [There's art included for the human designs]

Notes: It's so, so good. ;-; Heed the tags. There's a prequel consisting of oneshots, plus a sequel (listed below, bc I can't not put it here)! And there's ART! So much art!

You, My Everything by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Some say that love can conquer all, even in Hell.

Vox begged to differ, and he was damn well sure Alastor did too – or at least he would be, if Alastor hadn’t become one big question mark.

Sequel to Safe with Me.

Notes: Only read if you've read Safe With Me!!! Still pretty early in the story but so good. ;-; The angst, I swear...

You're on the Air by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: A series of short, daily conversations between a radio host and his avid listener, as the two learn more about each other’s lives over the air. Set in the late 90s/early 2000s.

Notes: Same author as Safe with Me, but not set in the same universe! This one is set up in a literal radio show format; almost entirely dialogue-centric.

Of Candied Pine and Cherried Smoke by rillo (rillyrillo)

Summary: Inspired by x_Arcticfox_x’s fanfiction: Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola

After overdosing on them one too many times to curb the steadily weakening suppressants, Vox's body rejects them outright. Now with his scent getting stronger, he finds himself struggling to hide his true status as an Omega. In his desperation, he seeks help from the one person that knows his secret: Alastor.

Notes: Omegaverse. Same author as Safe with Me series and You're on the Air!

Blue Raspberries And Cherry Cola by x_Arcticfox_x

Summary: Vox is an omega, that's his biggest secret.

During his life time he hid this fact using suppressants, and counited to in death. One day he runs out of pills and his supplier is out of stock for the time being so Vox is forced to submit to the torture of going through heat for the first time in decades.

Too bad his business partner only see's omega's as mere object's...

But hey, at least Angel found him just in time, right?

Notes: Omegaverse. Currently on hold, but has 14 chapters currently available for reading. :)

Once Bitten, Twice Shy by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor decides that it's time to claim what is rightfully his, consequences be damned.

Notes: It's not porn but it might as well have been for how fucking intense this scene was. 😳

Dripping Pink by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Just before an Overlord meeting, Alastor gets infected by an off-market, highly potent, and incredibly dangerous love potion. Nobody realises until it's too late.

Notes: Simultaneously funny as fuck and erotic as all hell. I suffered from so much secondhand embarrassment on Vox's behalf. It's wonderful. :D

Lucidity's Fog by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Ever since he met Alastor, Vox has been having raunchy dreams about the deer. Those dreams suddenly stop when Alastor disappears. For seven years, he's free of the guilt, of the shame brought on by his unconscious desire.

Until Alastor comes back, and Vox is plagued by a new dream the same day he finds out about the news. This time, however, something is distinctively different about how the deer is acting.

Notes: Author tagged for light angst, but ngl the ending did not feel like 'light' angst to me lol. Hurt in a good way.

Finger Tips and Dotted Lips by The_Penny_Tails

Summary: Alastor has sensitive hands; he finds this out at the most inconvenient time possible. Unfortunately, Vox is the one who ends up paying the price for it.

Having to help a seemingly broken Overlord whilst navigating this new discovery proves to be a little more taxing than the Radio Demon could ever have imagined.

Notes: Alastor is such a troll in this omg.

Thawing Out by Seaside_Dreaming

Summary: Seeing a small crack in Vox's screen nags at Alastor more than he likes to admit.

Vox wishes things were better. Sooner or later, Alastor has to come to terms with the fact he has feelings, in general.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. HIGHLY suggest reading the prequel one-shot. It's not necessary to understand the plot here, but you should read it anyway.

Static by passthevoxcord

Summary: Vox creates a new and improved version of himself to please Val, only to be replaced by it. He is left beaten and broken with no one to turn to . . . except maybe his oldest enemy, Alastor.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Hating you feels so good by TwoBitJester

Summary: Vox obsesses over his returned enemy and finds himself a little too wound up

Notes: Very good PWP.

Laced Over Dinner by hazbinhearts

Summary: Vox is persuaded to dress a little differently over dinner for Alastor, but finds it remarkably uncomfortable as the night goes on. Written for VoxWeek21 Day 3: dressing up [appearance, formal, dance].

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Corsets. 😳

Observer by DeviousPossum

Summary: He moved the cursor to click off, when he suddenly heard a very recognizable static laced tone.

Alastor.

Alastor.

What the fuck. Alastor is singing.

Vox unintentionally ran claw marks across his desk, an increasingly common habit for him as of late. He grimaced at his now ruined table and unsuccessfully tried to reel in an inexplicable feeling that could only be described as jealousy.

Notes: Porn with a tiny bit of plot in the first chapter. :3

RadioTV Week 2021 Series by Heliosolar

Summary: Pretty much the title; various prompts.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. All worth reading, though they aren't connected.

Sharkblocking by Anonymous

Summary: Alastor is Vox’s number one rival. Incidentally, though nobody involved is aware of it, Alastor’s number one rival is actually Vox’s pet shark.

In which Alastor is actually a little obsessed back and Vark is the biggest obstacle to Radiostatic short of canon itself.

Notes: VARK!

Control + V by TooManyPsuedonyms

Summary: Vox and Alastor have a... thing. Not quite a relationship, but something. Vox is too scared to define it properly, and Alastor is dead set that Vox will eventually get bored of his lack of reciprocity and move on.

So, Valentino tries to show Vox what he is missing.

... too bad Vox didn't want him like that. ... too bad Alastor didn't know want is a vague word.

Notes: Heed the tags!!! There's currently a sequel; I haven't read it yet, but I definitely plan to. 👀

gift of the magi by vol_ctrl

Summary: "... Although husband and wife are now left with gifts that neither one can use, they realize how far they are willing to go to show their love for each other, and how priceless their love really is ..."

Alastor/Vox established relationship fluff.

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Very sweet. ^_^

the lost tape by vol_ctrl

Summary: There's a NEW ambitious media demon in Pentagram City. You never get a second chance to make a first impression, right?

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

12 Days of Yuletide by vol_ctrl

Summary: A parody of the 12 Days of Christmas traditional tune, as can only be done by Vox gifting to his beloved adversary.

Or, a series of letters from the desk of Alastor upon receiving a series of increasingly elaborate gifts from his insufferably modern foil during the holiday season.

Notes: Written before season 1 release.

Fear makes the heart grow fonder by Graysongirl

Summary: After a bit of inspiration from an unlikely source Vox comes up with the plan that scaring Alastor is the best route to gaining his affections. The haunted house at LuLu World seems like the perfect (safe) environment for a bit of pre-planned scaring...

[Stand-alone staticradio]

Notes: Written before season 1 release. Funny af. "Red! Red!" XD

Cordyceps, King of Ants by spappest

Summary: Vox is tired. Of Valentino. Of Velvette. Of Alastor, and Hell, and everything in between. He can't escape, but he can cut himself off, piece by piece, until he feels nothing at all. Alastor takes exception to this approach and commissions a certain princess of Hell to fix his foe. Now Vox has a hotel of misfits on one side of him, overlords on the other, and Alastor crushing his cage ever smaller.

Clearly, the only way Vox will get any peace and quiet is to just kill God.

Valentino did always tell him that he had no chill.

Notes: Started before season 1 was released. Technically features Staticmoth but it's not the focus as much as Radiostatic (which honestly has a relationship status of ??? not romantic but also not friendship or even strictly enemies...just...Alastor and Vox). O_O I think about this fic on a daily basis.

Russian Roulette by spappest

Summary: Vox and Alastor play a game that Vox is way too excited to lose.

Notes: Started before season 1 release. Take note!!! I'm putting this on the Radiostatic list because it's almost entirely centered on Alastor and Vox's dynamic, but the romantic relationship is Staticmoth. The Staticmoth is just not featured very much.

Vox and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Afterlife by spappest

Summary: Alastor goes into rut.

Vox has a bad time. Then a good time. Then a very bad time. Then a brief vacation. Then a confusing time.

Notes: Background Staticmoth, but Radiostatic is most prominent. Funny af. Alastor and Vox have...a very special relationship. Lol.

Killer Ex by FanGirl48

Summary: Alastor was a serial killer who valued his privacy. So when someone who claims to know what he is tries to barge into his life he can't let them live, his secret must be protected at all cost.

A normally easy task easy task becomes complicated when Alastor's ex-boyfriend is dragged into the whole thing forcing the serial killer to go visit them for the first time in seven years.

Notes: Human AU. Love me some possessive Alastor. <3

Negotiations by FanGirl48

Summary: Vox had no interest in attending a meeting between Heaven and Hell following the failed attack by the Adam and his Exterminators. Alastor's little gremlin caused the mess, so he can go clean it up. Vox had nothing wanted nothing to do with the radio demon, king of hell or heaven.

But that was before Lucifer made the media overlord aware of Valentino's little job offer to his daughter.

Damnit Valentino!

Notes: "And they were roommates!" "Oh my god they were roommates"

Down, Up, and Back Down by CowboyEnthusiast

Summary: Vox dies. Surprisingly no one takes this well.

Or, Vox dies and Alastor tries to drag his soul back from Purgatory.

Notes: Another fic I think about daily... Heavy themes. Heed the tags.

Hold Me Like a Grudge by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor has spent a long time running from Vox. Vox has chased after him almost as long. When suppressants fail throughout the city, they finally collide.

Notes: Omegaverse. Fun fact about this author: all their Radiostatic fic titles are from Fall Out Boy lyrics lol. (I fucking love FOB sue me.) I haven't yet read all of Rachello344's Radiostatic fics, BUT I have them all on my To Read list because I've loved everything I've read of theirs so far lol.

What Makes You So Special? by Rachello344

Summary: With Lucifer’s return to the Pride Ring, the other Deadly Sins were bound to take notice. When Asmodeus stops by the Pride Ring to visit the Morningstars, the Vees are able to make a deal to host a pop-up shop of the incredibly popular Lust Ring establishment, Ozzie’s, bringing it to the Pride Ring for the first time.

When Vox and Alastor both attend the restaurant’s opening night, long repressed sparks fly, forever changing their relationship.

Notes: Because of the pacing of this (sex first romance later), I feel like this is the Radiostatic equivalent of Femalefonzie's Freak-A-Zoid (a really good Staticmoth fic). This is hands down one of the most romantic Radiostatic fics I've read. ^_^

Hold Me Tight (or Don't) by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor and Vox finally come to an understanding, both of each other and of what they each mean to the other. Their relationship evolves accordingly, one concession at a time, until they both get everything they could possibly want: power, companionship, and even love.

Notes: So, so good.

Keep You Like an Oath by Rachello344

Summary: Alastor normally wouldn’t bother with the chore—breaking into V Tower was quite a lot of work, even for him—but he found himself curious about what Vox and his little friends might be working on. Especially since whatever it was had Angel concerned enough to report back to the rest of the hotel about it.

Of course, before he can learn anything, he’ll need to sneak past Vox’s watchful eye…

Notes: God it's just...so good. Read it. Radiostatic reconciliation. One thing I love about Rachello344 writing Radiostatic is Alastor's terms of endearment for Vox. ^_^

To Be Yours by pinegreenapples

Summary: Alastor hears something he hasn't heard in years. He decides to investigate why now, of all times, this frequency has turned back on. Vox is not amused.

Notes: Hurt no comfort. Hurts so good, though. ;-;

oleanders in june by spoondrifts

Summary: It seems like while Alastor was off preying on the self-destructive addictions of desperate sinners, Vox was off getting himself beaten half to death, probably from spouting belligerent nonsense at someone with violent tendencies and a far lower threshold for disrespect than Alastor. Not everyone finds poor Vox’s chatter as charming as he does.

If Vox is unconscious, then Vox is not being entertaining, and Alastor came here to have fun, not play nursemaid.

Or: Drunk on power and itching to cause some mayhem, Alastor hunts down the only person in the city who's always up for anything. Unfortunately, he finds Vox... not exactly in tip-top shape. No matter; he can work with that too.

Notes: ^_^ Very sweet.

equilibrium by curtailed

Summary: Post-Finale. The Hotel finds Alastor right on the front lawn, unconscious and bleeding, still injured from Adam's blade. While he recovers, all of Hell scrambles to find out who his mysterious rescuer is.

Meanwhile, Vox tries not to freak out that he might have accidentally made a soul bond to save that deer asshole's life. All he had wanted to do was to scope out the ruins of Alastor's radio tower. Fuck him for being curious, he supposed.

Notes: This fic has me in a CHOKEHOLD. I love the characterizations so, so much. Manages to fit in humor alongside the angst. One of the best fight scenes I've ever seen put into words. Curtailed really took Vox and Alastor as characters and planned out a cool fucking fight scene using their unique abilities. I automatically love anything tagged with "one fell first but the other fell harder" lol.

candlelight by curtailed

Summary: Despite the #SirRepentious success, Heaven remains skeptical of a sinner's ability to change. Logic gets lost somewhere, and really, what's a better way to show sinners can be marginally less horrible than to stick two Overlords who hate each other in the same living space?

OR

Alastor and Vox play house.

Notes: The comedy of Alastor and Vox being forced to be civil with each other and then unintentionally becoming very domestic together. Lol

wallow by curtailed

Summary: A 2+1 fic. Two times when Alastor and Vox were in a love triangle (hard quote on love, hard quote on triangle), and the one time Alastor had Vox to himself.

Notes: Only 1 (very good) chapter so far, but safe to say pretty heavy already. Heed the tags.

Addicted by Dancingdog

Summary: After the latest argument with Valentino, Vox finds himself at the Hazbin Hotel. An injured Alastor is less-than-pleased to see him, which is understandable considering they are enemies.

But as more and more of Valentino's venom leaves his system, Vox begins to remember his days before V-Tower and he learns exactly why Alastor rejected his offer all those decades ago.

His memories return in fits and spurts - not all of them good. His past with Alastor isn't something he expected and it turns out that he isn't the only one suffering.

Notes: Dude. This fic hurt me. Such good angst.

Radio Made the Video Star Series by songofhell

Summary: Snippets of Vox and Alastor's afterlife, and their journey from strangers to friends to enemies to... something more.

Notes: Pretty much what the series summary says - a series of installments that chronicle the beginning and subsequent evolution of Alastor and Vox's relationship. Very good, has tons of possessive!Alastor, which I die for.

Uneasy by Saezs

Summary: “Something’s wrong with Voxy.”

Velvette’s eyes snapped to the tall moth pimp. “And?” she prompted with a raised eyebrow. As if she needed to deal with two piss babies this close to a show. Valentino shrugged, tapping away on his phone, and walked away to stand threateningly close to her new models. Before she could snap at him, she saw it; his wings were twitching. Barely noticeable to strangers, just under the hum of the building’s lights, he was squeaking with each tap of his fingers. She felt unease and a healthy dose of aggravation swirl in her stomach.

Or: Vox was roofied and sexually assaulted. Velvette tries to be better than her mother. Unexpected connections are formed.

Notes: Heed the tags! Features genderfluid Vox. :)

Five Times Vox and Alastor Danced and One Time They Didn't by Drowsy_Salamander

Summary: “I say, good fellow, what are you doing on the ground like that?”

The voice was perky, cheerful, and bright. It had a crisp mid-Atlantic accent, the kind Vox remembered being all the rage for stage and film performers back when he first entered the broadcast industry. The diction was crystal clear with every sound enunciated separately to maximise clarity, the consonants clicked and the vowels were broad. It was a performer’s voice.

A voice for radio.

Oh shit.

... Five times Vox and Alastor danced and one time Vox and Alastor didn't.

From their first meeting through their friendship, to their enmity and fighting. From infatuation to yearning to animosity. Dancing is a partnership, is it not?

Notes: Each chapter so far has been a different type of dance, which is really neat. Especially chapter 2. ^_^ That said, there's a feeling of impending doom, knowing what happens to their relationship eventually... Not saying that as a deterrent but just a comment on how I felt while reading it lol. It's very sweet, which is why it hurts to think of future chapters. 🙃

Days Long Past by Momo52

Summary: All sinners of hell bore some physical marks of how they lived and died. Some physical manifestations were more obvious while others were subtle. Vox was not an exception to this rule.

While his television head was an obvious indication of his life while on Earth, the mark he bore from his death was far more subdued. Luckily enough, his shame was easily concealed behind a high collar. Unfortunately, he is just as well known in his afterlife as he was in his life. As such, trying to make everyone believe that he is so much stronger than what his death implies is a constant battle. He only wished that he wasn’t the hardest one to convince.

Notes: I think platonic Radiostatic is the endgame here. Still pretty early in the story, but I'm really liking this author's depiction of Vox and Alastor's pasts. Heed the tags. There are heavy subjects such as suicide (very big theme for Vox's pov) and period-typical racism (in Alastor's past) present in the story.

Remote Access by x-UsoTsuki-x (its_not_reael)

Summary: In the aftermath of Alastor and Vox's electrifying on-air showdown, Vox finds himself unusually rattled. His usual suave demeanor is slipping, much to his cohorts' amusement – and concern. Velvet can do little more than roll her eyes at his antics. Valentino, on the other hand, is convinced that all Vox needs to do is get fucked and relax.

or, alternatively...

The tech-savvy overlord manages to snag a virus from a porn site and finds himself in the arms of his worst enemy.

Notes: Fairly certain this is firmly Radiosilence based on the tags (and the direction of the story so far). Very funny, very hot. Vox is pathetic in this one. Lol

Nun-thing Like You've Ever Seen Series by A_Cypress_Coffin

Summary: Alastor, the feared radio demon with more blood on his hands than most of hell combined, wasn't always as we imagine him. There was a time where instead of a dapper suit and smile he donned a simple vow and habit. That didn't last of course, but the journey is quite something.

Notes: This author has a great sense of humor, lmao. I enjoyed the unique headcanons for Alastor's backstory. The tag that hooked me: "Accidentally becoming a better person through bad domming and found family".

Empathia by The_Oblivious_Swallow

Summary: Creating new technology is boring, sex is physically unappealing, the other Vee’s are so annoying, annoying, annoying! Even Vark, his baby, his pride and joy, doesn’t stir the same joy in his heart like he should.

So, Vox had concluded that it had to go. For his sake.

Notes: Contains Staticmoth, but Radiostatic seems like the endgame (I write this as there is one chapter still left). Really interesting idea. I love Vox.exe so much. ;-;

Every Madman Has His Vice by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “What the fuck do you want, Alastor? Was it not enough to kill me all those years ago? Now, you had to go for the people I loved and the only things I had left in this fucking Hellhole?”

“It was my fault,” Alastor whispers as he approaches Vox slowly, as if he was some sort of wounded animal he didn’t want to scare off. His prey. “Vox, I’m sorry. If I had a chance to redo that night, I would never have hurt you to this extent. I’ll never harm you again.”

“That’s seven years too fucking late, Alastor.”

OR: Seven years ago, instead of Alastor disappearing, it was Vox who left instead.

Notes: I’m so fucking here for this AU. Possessive Alastor, Vox helping with the hotel, Husk is still an Overlord, yessss

Metathesiophobia (Fear of Change) by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: There's a lot that can change in seven years.

But never once had Alastor expected for something like this from his old rival and older friend.

Or, Alastor and Vox start to rekindle their old friendship again after a shocking discovery strikes the deer demon.

Notes: QPR Radiostatic with MtF Vox! Contains a smidge of Staticmoth, but it's in the background and not the focus. Very well written.

surimi and venison by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: A series of short drabbles (500+ words) in an interconnected universe (peep the tags, they're still in hell), centering around Alastor and his new pet fish... shark... television thing. Will (hopefully) update 1-2 times a week. Written as my attempt at a Mermay series.

Notes: Like the summary says, Mermay prompts featuring SharkHybrid!Vox, along with Alastor, who literally saw Vox and decided to make him his pet. Lol.

an arm and a leg, my dear, les yeux d'la tête by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: “I mean, usually when Val gets mad he gets like, super pissy too an’ starts destroyin’ shit ‘round the set and in his clubs, but like, usually Vox can calm him down. Problem is, where the Hell is that guy? I haven’t seen ‘im round the Tower for like, a month or two now. That ain’t normal.”

“What, so you mean he just up and left?”

“No, but like… he hasn’t been seen ‘in public’ for like, two months now. It’s startin’ to get suspicious. Like, I ‘unno if I’m just paranoid or something, but… Vox is like, the fuckin’ face of Hell’s Entertainment District. When he’s not round for a bit, that’s nothing to worry about on its own… but when he’s not round for a bit an’ Val and Velvette are creeping around, looking for his rival…? I mean… the dots are connecting. If Al did something…”

“If Vox was dead, we would know.” OR: Two months ago, Vox went missing. Right now, it seems as if Alastor has something to hide.

Notes: Vox gets attic-wifed and wears a virgin killer sweater. ^_^

we'll go down together in the ashes of our love by phantasm_png (chibellero)

Summary: Glimpses into the Radio Demon's life as he reluctantly navigates parenthood with his co-parenting partner and the demon princess hoisted onto him by the King and Queen of Hell.

Loosely inspired by Spy X Family.

Notes: CUTE! I love domestic Radiostatic.

What Has Been by Tianren

Summary: Vox has never known peace. From being the son of a egocentric cult leader, to being the boyfriend of a self absorbed abuser. Vox has managed to build a pretty sad life for himself. The only spot of sunshine that had ever blessed his existence was when he met an amateur true crime investigative journalist, with a podcast named, Alastor. The man was his only source of unfiltered news and contact to the world outside his father’s compound. But after Vox finally escaped the cult he waited for Alastor. Waited weeks in their assigned meeting spot just to be forgotten. Vox was convinced he’d stopped waiting for Alastor years ago until he meets the man again seven years later at a hotel. What will reconnecting with his past lead to and will it help him escape the hell he’s built for himself?

Takes place in the late 2000s early 2010s

Trigger warning for religious trauma and abuse as major themes of this story. Will add more warnings if they arise as I go on.

Notes: Really interesting human AU concept!

(Fic rec list to be continued)

[jordie-gvf]

CINEMATIC EROTICA, JAKE KISZKA

title creds to @tripthelightfatality

pic creds to @sophiechoosestheroad on instagram!

warnings : filming sexual acts, very spicy, lots of nicknames, slight master kink, oral m rec, oral f rec, unprotected sexual intercourse (wrap it up biatch), switching between dom/sub like once, slight religious corruption?, butt stuff (no penetration), breeding kink

final smut scene was written by @idwt-money

no disrespect to sex workers, i love yall!

word count : 3.4k +

As soon as Jake came home tonight from the studio, you knew something was off. 

He wouldn’t meet your gaze and went straight up the stairs without saying anything to you. you decided to leave him alone, you figured he had a bad day. 

Jake had the opposite, he had been painfully hard, due to the polaroid of your wide open legs in his wallet. He went to get a coffee before he came home and opened his wallet, the first thing he saw was your cunt. 

Jake had been upstairs for a good half hour now and his dinner was getting cold. you made smash burgers with mac and cheese, his favorite. 

You called out for him and waited for a few minutes. you heard your bedroom door open, followed by his footsteps. 

Jake sat down at the kitchen table with you, “Hey baby, sorry. Needed a minute, how was your day?” 

You smiled at him and told him all was well and told him about your day. “I did a few shots today, I got so sad at all the babies crying around me, but luckily they’ll be okay.” You were a pediatrician at the children’s clinic downtown. You loved your job, you got to take care of children. 

You and Jake barely spoke at dinner, you knew something was still wrong. You picked up your glass of drink and went in for a sip. Mid sip, Jake asked you, “How would you feel about starting an OnlyFans?” 

You choked on your IPA, patting your chest a few times. “Are you being serious, jake?”

He nodded and continued, “We’d literally be having sex, recording it and getting money for it. Imagine how many views we’d get, babe!”

“That's not what I'm concerned about, Jake! I'm a pediatrician, not a pornstar!”

“Quit your job, we can fuck all day long and record it. Do it for me, babe.”

“I know you did not just tell me to quit my job. I love my job and I worked hard for my title and that is asking way too much. I will never quit my job because you want to parade your cock around on the internet. end of conversation, I’m done.”

You got up from the table and grabbed your plate, throwing it into the sink before walking upstairs to shower. You locked both the bedroom door and the bathroom door, not wanting to be bothered. You turned the shower on and stepped in, washing away the day. 

Somehow, Jake managed to find a way into the bathroom. He snuck into the shower, trying not to soak his phone in the process. He pressed his body up against yours, startling you. He put his front camera in your face and used his other hand to grab your jaw. 

“Look at my pretty sex kitten, all gorgeous for me. Who's my pretty girl?”

He cocked your head towards him and held your mouth open and let a trail of spit trickle from his mouth to yours. You swallowed it as best you could with your mouth being forcefully held open. 

He moved his camera down your body, keeping his hand on your jaw. He stopped moving the camera at your breasts, he removed his hand from your jaw and moved it down to touch your nipples. 

“Pretty jeweled nipples. What are those, kitten? Butterflies?”

You nodded and bit your lip while smiling. Your action made jake move the camera back up to your face. “Pretty doll face. Show em your tongue, Princess.”

You stuck your tongue out and showed the camera. “Look how pretty. Glows too, huh?” he said, more like a question.

You smiled again and he maneuvered to stand in front of you. “Get on your knees for me, sugar plum?” you instantly groveled to his feet, always ready to please him. 

He grabbed your cheek while holding his camera to your face. He used his thumb to rub up and down on the side of your face. “Such a good girl. Open your mouth.” 

You followed his orders and opened your mouth. He inserted his thumb into your mouth and you wrapped your lips around him. You swirled your tongue on the tip, lightly suckling. 

“God, you are a wet dream, kitten. Wanna suck my cock, baby?” he asked you, slowly pulling his thumb out of your mouth, spit trailing from your lips.

You nodded and moved closer to his body, grabbing onto his thighs and kissing them, making sure to leave all your love. 

Ever so gently, you left little hickies on his waist. You moved your head back to look at the art you created before he firmly grabbed the side of your neck and forced your head toward his cock. 

“I've been waiting all day to come home to get my cock sucked. Stop stalling, it gets you fucking nowhere. Suck, sugar plum.”

You pressed your hands into the tile floor and gently took his pillowy soft tip into your mouth. He threw his head back in pleasure, threading his free hand through your hair. 

“Fuck, you look so hot with a cock in your mouth. Show me those pretty eyes, sugar plum.” 

You flashed your y/e/c eyes at him and very slowly bobbed your head up and down on him and skimmed the vein on the underside of him with your tongue. He harshly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back to look at him. 

“What a slut, always ready to serve her master. Am I your master, sweetheart?” 

You pulled away from him to answer, but he pushed your head all the way down until his tip touched your throat. “Stop, keep me warm.” You stopped all your movements and kept him in the back of your throat for a few seconds, slowly getting bored.

You gently tapped his ankle, silently asking if you could touch him. “Yes peach, you can touch me. I need you to touch me,” he pleaded for your touch, letting his submissive side peek out.

You put your hands on his waist and pulled away from him. “No, baby. Why’d you stop,” he whined out for you. You looked up and down at him and whispered, “Relax, I just wanna look at you.” 

He gripped his hand tightly in your hair. “God, I fucking love you. You look so sexy when you suck my cock, pretty eyes looking right at me.”

You were growing impatient, you needed Jake and you needed him now. You pulled off of him and quickly rose to your feet, sitting on the small bench that accompanied the shower. Jake was quick to film you as you opened your legs, waiting for him to catch your drift. 

“Need me to eat your pretty cunt, sugar? You need your master to eat your pussy so bad?” 

You nodded swiftly, “Yes, I want you so bad.” 

“Hold on baby, hold on. Don't you always get what you want? Remember that one hundred and twenty five thousand dollar car, the five thousand dollar purse, the Louboutin’s, the two million dollar house, don't I always give you what you want?” 

“Yes baby, of course I remember. You always give me whatever I want.”

“Good, now shut up.” he said, smacking the outside of your thigh when he lowered his face to your cunt. He made eye contact with you before connecting his lips to your clit. He set the phone in your hand and turned it towards his face, making you watch him through a screen. 

You laced your fingers through his wet hair, gripping his hair and pulling his mouth off of you. “What’s wrong, baby? You don't want me to eat your gorgeous pussy? You know how much I love eating this pussy? Sucking on your clit, running my tongue right down,” he said, dragging his digit through your slit, collecting your nectar. He continued before you could speak, “You taste so fucking sweet, like honey. Kitten’s got a sugar sweet pussy. Look at you baby, she's puckering, she wants a kiss. Should I give her a kiss?” You stroked his hair and nodded, biting your lip at his words. He gave a wet kiss to your pussy and inhaled deeply.

“She smells good too.” He flashed his beautiful brown orbs at you before begging to continue. “Please, kitten. I need it so bad, more than you.” You lowered his head back down before turning his phone off, cutting off the video. “No one can see you, Jakey. Only me, I'm the only one allowed to watch.”

“Mm, yeah you are kitten”

He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked hard, making your back arch and your toes curl. He removed one of his hands from your thigh and moved it up your body towards your chest, flicking and pulling on one of the butterfly charms on your nipples on the way up. He grabbed onto your cross pendant and put it in your mouth, biting your clit to tell you what to do, putting his hand back on your thigh.

You took the gold cross between your teeth and bit, your moans pushing through your teeth. “I can feel you pulsing, sugar. Thighs warming my ears, pushing my head closer to you. I fucking love you, kitten. Getting close, my love?” 

You nodded as his gaze met yours. He removed his hand from your thigh once more, coming to rub your clit as he sucked you dry. Your legs started shaking around his head, unknowingly signaling to Jake that you were close and it was coming soon. He stopped and curled his fingers deep inside you, frenetically fingering you until your ass was about to come off the bench. He quickly stopped and sat behind you on the bench, supporting you from behind before burying his fingers back inside you.

“I know, baby. I know, I know! Cum for me, my love, I know you can. You're doing so good, such a good job, love.” He said to you, guiding you through what he knows as the toughest part. He grabbed the cross from your mouth, letting you moan out. He grabbed his phone and quickly turned the camera on.

He motioned the camera towards your face, “Look at my pretty, sexy girl. Ready to cum, gonna soak my fingers, sexy baby?” He moved his phone down towards your cunt and got the perfect angle of his digits fucking you.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you repeatedly, his rhythm never faltering. You got a weird feeling in your stomach, something you never felt before. You looked up at Jake to see if he felt it too, grinning from ear to ear, as if he knew what was going to happen. He shoved the camera into your hand and used his free hand to hold you up. 

“Fuck me, Jake, I’m gonna cum!”

“Let it out, my sweet baby. Don't be afraid, soak my hand. I want it so bad,” he whispered in your ear. 

Your vision went white and all you heard was a loud splash and Jake, “good girl, baby. You did so fucking good, such a good girl. Did you see that?” He lifted you up slightly to get out from behind you. “Did you see that, baby?”

You shook your head and looked at him, silently telling him to tell you. “You fucking squirted, all over my hand. Fuck, I got it on video. I can watch it over and over again.” He kneeled in front of you and placed his hands on your knees, “I'm gonna be honest, baby. It's taken me a lot to not bend you over on this shower floor, cause I'm thinking about it.”

That's all the ammunition you needed “Do it Jakey, I want it right here.” You said to him through gritted teeth. He smirked and roughly grabbed you by the hair, pushing you down to the shower floor. You immediately dropped to your hands and knees and arched your back, displaying all to the camera. 

“Look at that pretty ass. Pretty little hole my sweet baby has.” He declared to the camera, as if he was talking to someone other than you. He cracked his heavy hand down on your ass check before rubbing it with force, making your body slightly jolt forward. “Not to mention, that pretty pussy,” he stated all while focusing on you. 

You gyrated your hips closer to his cock, about ready to push him on his back and fuck him yourself. “Patience, kitten. Only good girls who listen get fucked, got it?”

You rolled your eyes and nodded, all for Jake to grab your hair and pull you up towards him. “Was that a fucking eye roll? Did you just roll your eyes at me? Do it again and I will leave you here, all alone and wet and I’ll go fuck my hand on our bed to that pretty video I have, understood? Keep it up, see what happens.” 

“Yes, sir. I won't do it again,” you said, lying right to his face. He let go of your hair and cracked down on your ass before you fell right back down to your hands and knees. He talked to himself, “talk to me like that, fuck around and find out, Princess.” You rolled your eyes yet again, hoping he didn't see. “We’re done. What did I say?” He asked you, standing up and turning you around and grabbing your chin roughly.

You sighed loudly and snarkily said, “I promise I'll never ever do it again, pinky swear.” 

“Liar. Now you don't get shit, you fucked around and found out.”

“Please, Jakey! I won't do it again, I promise.” You got on your knees and begged, clasping your hands together and looked up at him through your eyelashes. “Yeah, I'm sure you won't.” He said as he begrudgingly turned the shower off. “Get on the bed, turn towards the headboard, on your knees. Keep your mouth shut. I don’t want to punish you, so do what I say.”

“Yes, sir.” you said to him, groping his crotch on the way to the bed.

“Get going, you little minx.”

You followed his simple instructions and did what he asked. He went into your closet and reached up, grabbing the old shoe box where you kept all your things. You couldn't see what he was taking, so you followed his instructions and faced forwards. 

“Alright sweet girl, close your eyes for me and hold your wrists out for me,” he instructed you. You ejected your arms out towards him and he held your wrists close together and secured them tightly. 

“Hold them out, towards the top of the head board,” you did exactly that, as you were sure your comforter was soaked at this point and all you wanted was his cock. 

He laced the last silk tie through the gaps in the headboard and tied your wrists to it. Jake walked over to the large dresser you had and set up his phone to record. 

“Look at you, my sexy girl. All tied up and useless. Good for nothing except fucking.” 

You kept your mouth shut, not wanting to disobey him. “You're already doing so much better, keeping your slutty mouth shut, like a good girl.” He came up to you and leaned down to make eye contact with you. He gave you a gentle kiss and lowly said, “I'll go easy, okay? I know you're sensitive.”

You let a tear fall at his words. He quickly wiped it away and kissed your face. 

He slowly got off the bed from where you were and got on the bed behind you. He lightly kneaded your ass, kneeling down and lightly pecked your asscheeks. 

“God, baby, I love you so much.” 

You looked back at him with pleading eyes, “You can say it, kitten.”

“I love you too, Jakey, so much.”

He smiled softly and grabbed his cock. “You ready for me, my love? Sure as hell wet enough, I'll tell you that.” You laughed lightly and turned your head back around to face the headboard, bracing yourself for what was about to come. 

You nodded, “Mhm, I'm ready.” He stroked his tip through your slit, getting his cock wet with your slick. 

He took his time pushing his cock into you, letting you adjust the best you could. 

His thrusts started soft and full of the love and admiration he had towards you. He could call you the dirtiest, grossest names in the book but at the end of the day, he was utterly in love with you.

“Oh, fuck... you feel so good wrapped around my cock. A beautiful pussy made just for me. Fits me so well.” He was speaking through moans and grunts as he slowly picked up his pace. 

Your replies were just soft and almost non-decipherable whines. His cock never failed you and you were still so shocked that you squirted all over Jake in the bathroom.

You noticed Jake's thrusts becoming more and more frequent, his cock hitting the deepest it could now go. As they became harsher, your hold on reality started to slip. In no time your mind would start to haze and become utterly useless. 

Jake's hand landed on your ass as he became faster, leaving a stinging sensation on your skin which would be soothed with a soft rub. 

“Oh, my poor baby. Listen to you! So fucking- ugh- needy and desperate.” It was obvious Jake was succumbing to his own pleasure. Barely being able to speak through the noises his satisfaction brought himself.

The view under him was something he was sure to be heaven on Earth. You were bound to the restraint he had put onto you and you sounded so fucking beautiful. Mixed in with the wet noises his cock was creating pushing and pulling out of you. 

Your body had tensed up, preparing itself for the immense pleasure that was about to course through it. 

“C’mon now, baby, I can feel it. Give it to me.” His voice was coarse and deep, enough to send you spiraling over the edge. 

Your hands pulled at the ribbons tying you to the bed frame but it was no use. The pleasure was ground shattering. You felt like it was running amok in your veins, seeping into your blood stream. 

Jakes hand went under you, toying at your clit and easing your through your orgasm. 

His hips stopped momentarily. 

“Can you give me another one, sugar plum?” 

“Yes, I can, Jake…please.” You nodded your head as you ignored the aching in your shoulders. You needed another one so bad, you craved it. 

Jake didn't ease into this one. His hips were plunging into you, harsh and deep. You swore you could feel it in your stomach. 

“Oh god! Please Jake!! Fuck!” You were already so overstimulated, you didn't even attempt to quiet yourself and you knew Jake had no issue with it. 

Jake always took pride in how well he was able to fuck you. He knew you like the back of his hand and by God it was his biggest honor. 

Jake himself was so close to letting his orgasm take over. 

“Jake! Please, please give it to me. I wanna fucking feel you.” You cried, you wanted nothing more than to feel him pump you full. 

Jake let go, letting his load coat your insides. His fingers digging into your ass while doing so. 

You were so overwhelmed with pleasure you let yourself go once more. 

“Good job, baby. You did so good, so good for me,” he let out a multitude of praises, “so fucking good, such a obedient girl.” He had his hand under your stomach to support you before pulling out and laying you down on the bed.

He immediately got you a pair of panties. He put them on for you and said, “gotta keep my babies in there, wanna make you a mamma.” He grabbed his phone and stopped recording, bringing the very special tape over for the two of you to watch later.

You smiled at him and brought your hand to the side of his head and stroked his hair. “I love you, Jakey.” 

“I love you most, sugar plum.” He laid down next to you in bed and rested his hand on your breast, holding it for comfort. 

“You're never gonna let go of the fact that you bought me a car, are you”

“Not until the day I die, baby."

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