#meeks and his little radio

[neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies]

Anderperry fans hyper-analyse ever micropixel in dead poets society by watching it 12 times a day then try to find a reason why there is no happiness in their lives.

'Comfort movie' what comfort?

[darolor]

Also uhhh hi gang! Haven't thought about Kirby in a hot minute but I'm still alive lmao

Admittedly I've been worrying a lot about my Star Allies fic, namely characterization, and I think that's made it harder to check in bc my brain is weird like that... ^^;

I'm thinking though that at some point I may just reread what I have, and if I have enough things to change I'll just rewrite them fresh sometime and set the old ones aside as archived drafts. As for the blog itself, ig we'll see if I stick around or if I'm just popping in for a sec?

[dazai-ritualist]

GETTING CAUGHT IN THE MOMENT… LIPSTICK ON YOUR FACE

— alastor + lucifer + vox getting caught with lipstick stains all over them…

— generally gn!reader. guys can wear lipstick too smh

hehe i got a new lip tint (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) maybe alastor’s part is a little self-projected

— alastor

alastor himself isn’t one for physical affection. in fact, the thought itself makes him feel dirty. someone else’s skin against his… eugh…

though, when it came to you, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself; hands clawing and playing with your hair, wrapping his arms around your neck, pinching your cute cheeks, holding your hand… it’s almost as if he’d double-die without you near!

and the only thing he’d enjoy more than that would be having his affection reciprocated; interlocking your arm with his, a surprise hug from behind, a kiss on the cheek, they are all more than appreciated! especially the thing about kissing…

a kiss from you is simply just exhilarating. the suddenness yet sweetness of it, it’s truly the purest form of love, regardless of if it’s familial, romantic, or platonic— it’s the purest expression of your love for another person.

so, just imagine alastor’s reaction to your new lipstick, strawberry red to give your lips a glossy color, yet still light enough to appear natural. the pretty hue of red complimenting your face features perfectly by giving it the color it needs as to not appear pale.

absolutely gorgeous. so confusing how a simple amount of color could make you look as if you were an angel from heaven itself. you quite literally took his breath away from just applying a new lipstick…

at some point, alastor had reached some sort of limit when he finally caved into his inner desires, bringing you to a secluded place in the hotel, his hands moving to your hips and hair.

he couldn’t wait any longer to place his lips on your’s, your lipstick smearing all over his thin lips. kissing him from his cheeks to his jawline, leaving light pink stains all over his skin.

he groaned at the feeling of wet lipstick all over his face, and at the same time reveled in the ways you are telling everyone that the only one who could see the radio demon in such a needy and doe-like state would be you; he’d be yours to fool around with, and yours to do however you’d see fit. just as you are his— no one else’s. the smeared lipstick on the side of your lips should send that as a statement enough to whatever lowlife hooligan would even attempt to sweep you off your feet.

when the two of you had returned, it was a strange sight to say the least… alastor’s face and jaw covered with pink lips, and you with your lipstick smudged and smeared off your lips, instead all over you neck.

“well, uh… you two look like ‘ya had lot’sa fun…” angel said monotonously, awkwardly trying to keep up conversation. “ohh, most certainly!” alastor grinned, his transatlantic accent popping through the radio static.

he knows he could’ve wiped it off… he has a handkerchief in his back pocket, he could’ve easily saved himself that awkward conversation.

but, he didn’t.

could you blame him? he wants all of hell to know that both you and him off-limits for good.

— lucifer

when many imagine the king of hell, it’s hard to think he’d be a social piranha. the same case had gone for you.

who knew lucifer was still as pure of heart as he was during his time in heaven? and who knew he’d fall for someone so easily after the sudden disappearance of his wife?

when he saw you, it was practically love at first sight! your big eyes, your shiny hair, and those big pretty lips of yours that he just wanted to kiss so badly…

he listened carefully as charlie introduced you to him, trying to remember every detail about you and every feature on your face, stuttering over his words once it was time to speak for himself.

and somehow, despite his meekness towards you and your awkwardness whenever he was around, you two ended up in a relationship— with the help of vaggie and charlie’s meddling in pushing you two together.

the two of you loved each other, of course… but it was always hard to express. the only way lucifer knew how to show his love was through his presence and gifts. he wasn’t hell’s greatest kisser, but he tries.

and, today— it was your 5 month anniversary… quite a long time, the hotel’s been good so far, no major threats other than one of cherri bomb’s occasional explosions. and because of how long it’s been, you decided to do something a little special… put on some relatively expensive clothes and make-up your face a little bit.

when lucifer saw you all dolled up, he was honestly a little stunned. lips as red as an apple, hair as soft as silk, the words were stuck in his mouth. “w- er- wow..! i’m not dressed up or anything— agh, this is awkward..” lucifer muttered. “hey, it’s ok… this was a surprise for you, y’know?” you said, comforting him slightly.

“you look… stunning today” he smiled, carefully putting down his anniversary present for you on his work desk, still wrapped in a red ribbon. he made his way to you, hands making their way to your cheeks to softly cup them as he gently leaned into you for a kiss.

he released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as you kissed his face all over, as if healing the wounds of his past with his present. his banishment into hell, lilith’s abandonment, they all didn’t matter anymore, you are the present and the future.

he wrapped his arms around your waist in a hug as he kissed your forehead, the residual lipstick from his lips smeared onto you.

lucifer laughed awkwardly before using his finger to carefully rub off the pink stains on your forehead. “haha… c’mon, i got a dinner reservation in the lust ring tonight…” he laughed, interlocking his arm with yours.

“don’t you wanna take off that lipstick on your face first?” you raised an eyebrow at him. “i mean… i dont minddd… so, it’s only if you wanna take if off” his eyes wandered, his cheeks growing flustered “hmm… nah. i want everyone to know you belong to me now.” you grinned mischievously.

and when the two of you walked out of the hotel lobby, charlie went to wish you a safe trip and happy anniversary before she noticed the stains on her dad’s face. “err… dad..? you gotta a little something there…” charlie muttered as she pointed all over his face. “ah..? yeah, i know” he laughed it off, proudly showing off to hell how hopelessly devoted he is to you.

— vox

vox was a busy man. from having many public appearances, to coming up with new ideas for voxtek, to putting out valentino’s temper tantrums, he barely had the time for romance.

barely. he loved you, truly. he keeps you dear to his heart, no matter how busy he’d be, vox would still make time for you late at night.

everyone had known you, why wouldn’t they? you’re the partner of one of the most influential overlords in hell, that’s a feat that is amazing to accomplish, dating vox in itself has made you into a sort of local celebrity; causing you to be invited to many galas, parties, and occasional raves.

and tonight happened to be the night of one of those parties. zestial had invited you to a formal dinner party, an all star guest list filled by many of the goetic princes, various overlords in hell, and other local hellborns such as verosika mayday.

“please, voxxx? just this once, it’s only like 3 hours!” you grumble as your apply a coat of ruby red over your lips, checking your appearance in the bathroom mirror. “i can’t.. i have a 5:00 with val and velvette, then after that, a board meeting about new gadgets to release…” vox groaned, already pissed about the day ahead.

“fine then, your loss.” you pouted, rolling your eyes as you left the bathroom and into the bedroom. “holy shit…” vox sighed out. “you look… really good, my love.” he walked over to you, his hands moving to your body, outlining the clothes’ stitching as he recognized it to be the one he had custom-made for you.

your hands rested on vox’s shoulders, forcibly making him lean over a bit before leaving various kiss stains all over his screen.

vox visibly tensed as his screen started glowing a bright teal, showing his clear embarrassment as pink smudges fogged his screen.

his breath heaved as his hands moved all around your body, desperate to find some kind of relief to his pent-up stress.

ending your kiss attack all too soon on his lips, you pulled away, your lips slightly pale now as you grinned at him. “spend the day looking like that and i’ll give you more after work” you winked, taking your belongings and leaving out the door, leaving a flustered vox in your bedroom, covered with lipstick stains.

“vox… the fuck is going on with your face?” velvette snarled. “it looks as if you got fucking mauled by a bear pretending to be a woman.” she yelled, her british accent making her trip over some consonants.

vox sighed, hearing valentino mutter some sort of dirty comparison of vox to a prostitute. “instead of focusing on me, why don’t you put your efforts into our agenda today?” vox frowned, his tone clearly saying that he’s holding himself back from releasing a flood of curses onto the two…

[reveluving]

Ok, so Soap and shy wife. We all know he's the definition of sunshine/happy puppy and has the energy of an entire class of kindengarden. Imagine when they first meet the couple and he's all loud and jolly, and wife quietly shakes their hand and says "Nice to meet you" and he INSTANTLY quiets, because he's proud of his Darling to meet his friends/family, also because they're all wondering how she puts up with him🤣❤

LOSING MY MIND AT "they're all wondering how she puts up with him" BECAUSE THAT IS BASICALLY THEIR DYNAMIC 🤧💗💗

Includes: tooth-rotting fluff!

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

You just know this man does not shut up about you every time he meets up with his team for work. 

And then, one day, he surprises them with a “she’d love y’all to come over one day.”

“Didn’t you say she’s a lil’ shy?” Kyle voiced out everyone’s thoughts, so to be offered not by the man himself but the meek lady in question was a little surprising, to say the least.

“She is, yeah, but she’s open t’meeting a few pals o’mine.” Johnny meant it to sound casual, but with his mates knowing him for a long time, it wasn’t hard to catch the hint of care in his voice.

And, well, it would be rude to decline a lady’s generous offer, now, would it?

Johnny’s hyped, no doubt, his friends—no, brothers, and his other half finally meeting in person. They didn’t even have to ask, just by the way he was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel or the way he hummed to the radio, likely a playlist the two of you shared.

And with the boys holding some sort of gift for you, just as a thank you for the invite, you greet them by the door as soon as your husband announces his and his friends’ arrival. 

With Simon physically being the closest to you, you wiped your hands on your apron before holding your hand out. Simon nearly struggled with his strength, not expecting your lack of hesitation to greet him, out of all of them.

You introduced yourself, “It’s nice to finally meet you guys.”

Ah, such a sweet voice. So sweet that had Johnny not gone on and on about your shyness, they would’ve thought you were scared of them. But, you weren’t and the proud smile on Johnny’s face says it all. 

Why wouldn’t he? With your warm smile and even willingness to shake Kyle and John’s hands as well. Albeit, you had a habit of looking down every once in a while, especially if they tried to show their respect, i.e. complimenting your cooking, the decor or you in general, it was hard not to find you endearing.

But God knows how you, of all people, manage to put up with his nonsense. 

In the words of Johnny; “Opposites attract, after all.”

And seeing it now, to say Johnny was whipped…. Was putting it lightly.

It’s funny to see Johnny trying his best when it comes to lowering his gruff voice for you, even if you loved it just the way it is.

Though he has a lot of things to tell you, so much love to give you, you have his full attention the moment your lips part.

Each time you open your mouth, he closes his. As if fearing that one word from him would mean talking over you entirely, and he couldn’t bear the thought of that. The hearts in his eyes were tough to miss. He’s expressive, too, hanging on your every word like you were giving him a task when it was just you talking about how you learnt to make the lasagna you served for dinner.

‘SHUT UP, MY BABY HAS SOMETHING TO SAY’ type of beat, but it’s the man who’s saying it that has the loudest voice (and the gentlest heart).

But they’d be lying if they said they didn’t enjoy listening to the stories of how you met and how emo Johnny gets when the dates or outings don’t go his way, even though it all went well in the end.

Why wouldn’t they enjoy seeing his soul leave his body when you mentioned his baby pictures that his mother not only showed you but gave some to you as well?

“Johnny, c’mon, now, she’s a part of the family! She’ll need some photos o’you for when you move in together soon.” Says his mother, gifting you probably a stack of them, as if unfazed by the sight of you and Johnny covering your faces, the temperature of your body heat rising that even you feared you might pass out right then and there. He couldn’t even find the energy to stop his sisters from teasing him.

But besides allowing you to embarrass him a little, even if it wasn’t your intention, your home is another.

A small unit, located on the second floor. The candlelight colour, the cute indoor plants in each room, and the seats. 

Oh, the seats.

John nearly passed out just moments after he sat on it. 

Just by the way you maximized the apartment space, it’s no wonder Johnny always looked forward to returning home. Not necessarily the apartment, but to you. 

Dare they say, the visit felt like a ‘cultural reset’ (is that what the kids are saying these days?). Largely because one; they were able to finally confirm that Mrs MacTavish is a real person and two; one cannot simply ignore the dynamic you and Johnny have. It may be eye-roll-worthy to some, but Johnny learns it isn’t something worth fighting about. So long he has you, those people can yap and nag about it all they want. 

Bonus: John’s definitely the type of person to tell Laswell about it like it was some kind of a mission—like it was almost unbelievable to see you, well, you!

“M’tellin’ ya, Laswell. As soon as his wife had something t’say, he shuts up faster than when I tell him to.” He chuckled before taking a sip of his drink.

“Sounds like a keeper to me.”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

[midascrow]

Alastor x Gn!Reader

Favoritism pt.1

part 2

————/////————————//////

Synopsis: the others notice a certain Deer Demons positive behavior regarding one of the staff. (Reader)

a/n: reader is portrayed as pretty meek and quiet. At least upon first meeting people, and I may continue that trait in part 2 or have them open up a bit more.

———————————————/—/——————

“Don’t ya think it’s kinda…I dunno..weird?”

Charlie’s shiny eyes snapped up from the sparkly cards and glue strewn across the living room table. “What’s weird?” Angel hummed, one set of arms crossed thoughtfully as his eyes swept towards the far corner, watching a certain Radio Demon quietly chat with one of the hotels…”staff” members.

“That Smiles, is so sweet on (Y/n) and not the rest of us?” His hand waved around dramatically, watching Charlie’s eyes widen as they spun towards the aforementioned duo, studying them for a moment for any sign of irregular behavior on the deer demons part. Although not much could be considered regular in regards to him

“I’m pretty sure Alastor is just as much of a prick to them as he is to everyone else.” Vaggie huffed from her spot on the couches armchair, a small magazine in hand that she carefully tried to cut apart for the days craft. Scrapbooking, if it wasn’t clear. “…your markers bleeding babe..”

“Oh shoot!”

Angel guffawed, bolting up right and letting his arms flail wildly in disbelief. “No way toots! Don’t you remember when he first brought them ovah? As one of ‘s lil “Helpahs”?” He turned, “Huskers you know what I’m on about don’t ya?”

The grumpy cat deflated with a sigh, setting down a freshly cleaned glass just to pick up another and start again. “That demon, plays with souls and sinners like no other shitlord out there. And that one,” his clawed finger shot out to point dagger straight at you “just so happens to be his favorite. End of story.”

Charlies lips pursed at that, a small shimmer in her expression that made Vaggies brow furrow in stress, watching her lover fall back into her own mind and remember the hotels first ever introduction to you.

—————

“Now my friends, I do have one more favor to cash in on. I expect you all on your best behavior in regards to them..” His red eyes lingered on Angel with a sneer. “I won’t take kindly to any damage done by your hands.” The static that swelled behind his words reached its peak, before muffling once a small figure materialized just beside him.

A clawed hand curled atop your shoulder and if not for the familiar chill, perhaps you would’ve jumped, but the buzz of static and the crackle of a radio was a comforting sound you had grown all too close to.

“Now, this sweet thing is (Y/n), a special little friend of mine who will help you, though- mainly me, keep the hotel on tip top shape- isn’t that right dear?”

Your gaze darted around, and the others watched as you barely made a peep before a gentle smile pulled on your lips and you nodded..strange for someone in the company of the Radio Demon.

“What’s up with them? Can’t talk or what?” Angel mused, almost rudely, winking under your watchful eye that was almost..freakishly intense.

Alastor hummed and buzzed for a moment, gazing down at you in thought. “No No, just a bit shy is all. Always on the quieter side…”

“That won’t be a problem will it?” The static fluxed and swayed around them, shadows scratching at the walls of his underlying threat, that cut through the air.

……..

The princess was admittedly worried by your timid nature. You were almost…paranoid in a sense, looking as if you wanted to melt into the floor at any sign of confrontation, friendly or otherwise.

But…she did notice you seemed oddly at ease around the Overlord. Sticking close, though typically he was the one following you around as you did..whatever it is you were brought over to do.

She was even reminded of one instance, where you had been scuttling around, a stack of fresh dishes held precariously in your clammy hands as you made your way to the kitchen.

Charlie had been too busy at first to notice, she was speaking with Alastor about the future promotion of the hotel, when the loud sound of glass shattering rang through the room.

All heads snapped towards the cause, only to spot you, wide eyed and flat on the floor surrounded by dozens of broken plates and glasses.

Seemed you had tripped on a loose bit of tile.

Now, Husker just had been throughly..scolded by the Hotelier for dropping a bottle just a few hours prior, so the patrons and staff watched with baited breath as the ever encompassing form of the radio demon stalked towards your dejected form.

Vaggie had drawn her spear right as the crash had happened, ready to step in at any moment should she need.

But the others could only watch in surprise as you were gently ushered to your feet with soft dusts off your shoulder, and a little snap of clawed fingers. The mess disappeared in a flash, and your uniform was carefully adjusted by the tall red deer who softly scolded you.

“Now now my dear. You must remember not to overwork yourself. Can’t have you in poor shape now can we?” His words were condescending at best, paired with the gentle pinch of your cheek, but for whatever reason you seemed hardly put off, simply nodding shyly and quickly darting off to continue your next list of….errands, the deers ears swiveled in your direction till you vanished through the corridor.

——/

“Do you think they’re-?”

“Fuckin?”

“I was gonna say dating..” Charlie trailed off uncomfortably, watching tensely as Alastor almost…”playfully” whisked you around the parlor.

“They’re not.” Husks gruff voice cut through, dipped in firm belief that he was right. “That fucker has an angle no matter what, and whatever special treatment they’re receiving is just to follow through with it. That guy can’t even conceptualize caring about someone like that.”

Clearly that incident was still fresh on his mind as he mumbled quietly about how he was cut off from all booze the following week to, help clear his “shaky hands”.

The others grimaced, Vaggie especially as Charlie’s big eyes welled with fat tears. “That’s..that’s so sad!” She wailed, collapsing into her girlfriend’s arms, her reaction subtly mirrored by Sir Pentious who had slithered into the conversation.

“Wh..why are we crying??” He hissed, greated with rolled eyes from the spider and cat, and a dejected sniffle from the princess.

“Al-Alastor’s never been in love!!” She sobbed dramatically, Vaggie cooing in her ear while her hand rubbed her back soothingly.

“Oh..?” The snake perked up, a confused tilt to his head. “But aren’t Alassstor and (Y/n) …?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out! He totally dots on them don’t he Snakes??”

The engineer nodded rapidly, scales shimmering in the dim living room light.

“I told you morons, they’re not and never will-“ Husks aggravation of the topic was clear, the scrubbing of his glass a tad more aggressive.

“But…I jussst ssssssaw them kisssssing the other day…? Up on the terrace?”

…..

“Ex-fucking scuse me?”

[ghoastixx]

Alastor w/ teenage human reader

A.N: gender neutral reader. You insert your name at ‘____’

Warnings: abusive parents mentioned, Alastor being a bit intimidating for a while, this is very self indulgent so yeah!

Goodness…how did the radio demon stoop so low as to be collecting human souls? Honestly what a pity..

To be honest Alastor didn’t even really know what had happened. One moment he had been drinking some tea on the balcony of the hotel, enjoying some absolutely dreary sights, and then he just.. wasn’t-

It caught him off guard to say the least. His ear laid back as his claws gripped his mic tightly. His smile never faltering.

“Holy fuck it worked!” A voice rang out, sounding astonished and a bit..too alive. Alastor’s eyes drifted down a little bit to see a child. …are you serious. He had been summoned by a child. How humiliating.

‘_____’ looked up at the demon. They had to admit, they were a lot more terrified than they would’ve liked to of been. The two just sort of looked at each other for a while before the child spoke up. Getting off of their kneeling position.

“Are you..the radio demon?” Their voice was meek and curious. It was intriguing that a child was able to do all of this. Alastor’s smile hitched up his face,

“Why yes I am! I’m assuming you’re the human that summoned me.” His smile widened when the kid tensed at his static-y voice. The radio filter never letting him down.

“W-well yeah.” They stuttered, showing vulnerability. That was going to be their first mistake. “I-“ now they were stammering, “I didn’t think it would work- honestly. I was just trying to humor myself.” Alastor was starting to get pissy, he had more important things to do than talk to a human that didn’t even know what they were doing.

“You summon a very powerful demon for fun?” His voice sounded rough, that static becoming more prominent as he got angrier.

“Well- I didn’t really think about this. This stuff doesn’t happen! I- I read a lot and of course there was that rumor going around on how to actually summon one and I just-“ the kids rambling was interrupted by a yell from downstairs. The kid winced at a thud that followed shortly after and the sound of a female voice filled with rage. The sound was almost too familiar to the radio demon.

“There wasn’t anything you wanted? Nothing at all?” He asked impatiently. When the kid sheepishly shook their head he got ready to go back to hell, but then he heard another thump which got him thinking. Why waste a trip? Perhaps there was a deal to be made here. “Say kid, why don’t we make a deal?”

“A deal..? Isn’t it frowned upon to make deals with demons? There’s like..so many songs about that.” The kid was smart, Alastor didn’t like that.

“Nonsense! I’m looking out for your best interest, little fawn. I think you’re very smart, I want to show that. If you give me your soul, let me take care of it, find me human souls, I will make sure that you do not rot in this silly little town. These people around you will not weigh you down.”

It seemed Alastor hit the nail on the head when he saw the consideration in the kids eyes. I mean- of course! A small kid who is summoning demons? In a small town? Arguing parents? Why wouldn’t they want out! And it seemed Alastor was right too, when the kid looked at the smiling demon and tensed.

“Okay. It’s a deal.”

The first time Alastor came back up to visit the soul he learned was ‘____’ he was quite impressed by the work they had done. The kid explained the type of people that would definitely be going to hell, all for the demon’s delicious picking. The first visit was strictly business.

It was the second meeting that became more personal.

‘_____’ looked up from the book they were reading, the music that they had playing softly from their radio turning staticy. They had been trying to drown out the sound of the constant screaming and whining.

“Is that a radio?” A loud static voice made ‘____’ jump. Obviously they hadn’t been expecting dear Alastor, who laughed heartily at the sudden jump.

“Damn it- scared the piss out of me-“ the fawn mumbled. Alastor thought they were like a fawn at least. Skiddish and soft. Curious. He thought it was a good comparison.

“I do apologize my dear! But please do answer, I thought radio went out of style in this day of age.”

“Well, it’s certainly not as common anymore, but it hasn’t gone completely out of style. Records have made a bigger comeback than radio.”

“How curious,” Alastor hummed, the sound of it immediately grabbing the fawn’s attention. It humored him how easily he could get the focus on him. A bang was heard on the wall with an incoherent yell, the only eligible word being “SHUT THE FUCK UP.”

‘_____’ shifted uncomfortably. It was obvious that they were trying to lose themselves in the radio. Alastor was starting to really like the little fawn, so he considered something.

Suddenly green fumes embedded themselves into the radio, making a static sound. The fawn looked up curiously,

“What did you do to my radio.”

“Patience, you’ll be able to tune into my broadcasts now. It’s only fair.”

The kid simply nodded. And they would listen to it. Because when Alastor decided to visit again for his souls, the kid would tell him it was quite morbid, but they liked the song selection.

This continued for a good while, the little fawn would tell Al about the new age for humans and Alastor would help distant the kid from their parents. If anything it boosted his ego, he felt like more of a stable figure for this kid than their own parents. And that would be put to the test when Alastor popped in only to see the little fawn curled up on the corner of their bed, so upset.

His ears flattened as his smile was forced. He couldn’t stand to see his little fawn so upset. He wasn’t sure when it became his little fawn instead of the little fawn, but he liked it better. It felt more appropriate.

“Now now, little fawn. I’m here, it’s alright.” He tried his best to console the little one.

Perhaps it was time to renegotiate their deal. Perhaps he could form this kid into a better version of themselves.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to get this kid into hell.

[spdrvyn]

tearful territory

miguel and a sensitive, tearful reader. you try to overcome the obstacle that is sobbing and crying whenever you're confronted by your ever stern and stoic boss, but your habit gets the best of you. no matter how hard you try to hide it.

hurt/comfort. miguel is bad with feelings. reader is bad with regulating their feelings. bad feeling and bad feeling regulation everywhere! thank you for this ask, anon <3

dividers by @/cafekitsune

You've been labeled as the family crybaby for as long as you could remember, so when you moved out, you'd figured that the habit of tearing up over even the tiniest of inconveniences would evade you. After all, you were now a hardened vigilante, beating up bad guys, saving a bunch of people should have gotten you tough skin. 

Wrong! While you have obviously improved and it hasn't been as bad as when you were still a kid, the tears that found themselves home in your eyes were now just protected by a mask, a symbol of your heroic deeds that hides the weak, meek, and fragile person beneath it. 

As you got recruited into Spider Society though, your mask was on more than half of the time. Even when eating, you only had it half-lifted just in case push came to shove.

Was it a little ridiculous? Yes. More than. But you'd rather bare the strange looks of people passing by you rather than have a full cafeteria of spiders witness you cry. You certainly didn't need to be labeled as Spider Society crybaby too, making work arounds for your habit was working for you now anyway.

Unfortunately, the universe is cruel. Oh-so cruel. 

You were a relatively new addition to the Spider Society which means that the head honcho had been doting on you for a while now, doting was a strong word, but he'd call you into his office to give you feedback on your performance in missions so far.

Completely fine, besides most of the reports had been positive. Though, the thing about Miguel is that he's actually an uplifting boss when he can be. Which means he always gave you advice, tips to help you get better next time, and pointed out your mistakes from each mission. 

Again, completely fine! You were okay with criticism, more than okay with it. But that lump that formed in your throat, the warmth that crept into your face, it functioned like clockwork. So you've just resorted to keeping your mask on whenever you had a meeting with him too, problem solved. 

Another thing you didn't know about Miguel though was despite his lack of a sixth, spider-like sense, he'd a habit of his own. To be an observer, to pick up on the small details of the people he worked with. Even if he only saw them by mere chance, only passing by some in the multiple hallways of headquarters on occasion. 

It wasn't rocket science, even if Miguel did know rocket science, to figure out that you had an... issue with dealing with the slightest forms of rejection. Aside from the obvious hint that you were always masked around him, he also noticed that you were radio silent for most of the meetings, only interjecting with quiet 'mhm's and 'okay's. 

You were so quiet around him that it almost made him seem chatty. Miguel. Chatty. Those two words could not be in the same sentence, yet you made it possible. 

He didn't want to force you to take your mask off, the end goal wasn't to see you cry, but after a few months of having literal one-on-one meetings with him, he hadn't really sparked any form of connection with you. 

This time when you were called in, you two went through the ropes per usual. It didn't seem like you noticed Miguel's (un)conscious efforts to soften his tone, to relax his shoulders, and to not look completely stone-faced when talking to you. 

Miguel wasn't particularly used to this, has he had people cry in front of him? More than too many times, but never had he seen your case before. It made him wonder what was going on in that head of yours, to care so much about his input that you'd hide shedding even a single tear in front of him. 

The approach to the end of the meeting was steadfast, but before he let himself dismiss you. He asked, "Why do you always keep your mask on?" 

He knew fully well the reason why, but to hear it come from your mouth, would make it even more worthy of an answer. 

But the thing is that you don't answer him. It's the awkwardest moment of his life, he thinks. Two of you just standing there, his brows knit together in confusion and he's about to repeat his question or ask if you heard him until the smallest of squeaks ring in his ears and now you're turning your head away and clasping a hand over your mouth to conceal your noises. 

He followed in your direction, but he can't even see your face. Your shoulders shook as your fingers sloppily pulled your mask up so that you could furiously swipe at the tears that streamed down from your eye. You bit at your lip so hard to silence yourself to the point where you could be crying about how you're about to draw blood simply from the force of it. 

Miguel hadn't said anything, you couldn't see him either. How could you? You literally just broke down crying in front of him, there's no way you could ever show your face again here. 

You want to say something, you tried to at least. But all you get out is a choked, "Sorry, I'm-- Sorry." To which you don't even get a response to, but you can feel it. That thousand yard, judgemental stare that you always get for reacting like this. 

Which only caused you to get more shaken up when Miguel places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, which he uses to manuever you closer to him and to let him see your tear-struck face. Your first instinct to cower, you want to bring your hands to your face and peel your skin off like a banana peel, but Miguel doesn't let you.

In his other hand is a tissue to when he tenderly presses just below your eyes to wipe at the wetness, that hand on your shoulder moves to your chin and he lifts your face upward to get a good look at you. He doesn't look angry, rather concentrated. Locked in. 

Your chest heaves with the effort to keep it together, the onslaught of a really bad headache is rising over the horizon like it always does. Once Miguel's done, he discards of the tissue before he takes off your mask completely and sets it aside on his desk. The hand on your chin remains, a thumb on one cheek and the rest of his fingers on the other so your face looks a little smushed right now. A sight he'd like to appreciate if not for the circumstances. 

"So is this a common thing or?" The question almost seems a little unserious in nature, but that is mainly just the product of Miguel's awkwardness. He doesn't particularly do feelings, and he can't ask if you're okay because that might just lead to even more crying. 

Your voice is too dead to properly reply, you move your face in a half nod considering the grip he has on you. "And you've been wearing your mask because you don't want me to see?" He asks again, you nod more bashedly. 

A thin hum of understanding is all you can hear for him and he lets go of your face, but you can't hide anymore. Your mask is somewhere on his desk, it's managed to disappear among the slight mess that there is. It's awkward again, no words coming from either of you until–

"You're dismissed. Come back tomorrow." What? That's it? You put on this embarrassing display, you bawled in front of him, and he's letting you go? No lecture about how you need to be stronger of anything? 

The thought chases you in your dreams later on in the night. You found it hard to fall asleep that you swore you saw the sun peeking through the blinds once you were mentally fatigued enough to succumb to your exhaustion, you groggily swung over to Miguel's lab, your grip on your webs were too loose for your own safety but you managed to get over to him without any incidents. 

However, once his platform comes to a clicking halt, Miguel's back is turned to you. You notice that he wears a long sleeved turtleneck over his spider suit, a combination of articles you haven't seen on him before. 

The screen he was paying attention to turns off as he picks up a coffee cup on his right hand side and he holds it up to you, "It's colder out today." 

Whether that's to answer for the coffee or the drip, you don't mind. Silently taking the beverage, it brings warmth to your hand and you assume that it's freshly brewed considering the steam that comforts your cold cheeks. Miguel's attempt at small talk, despite how awkward, makes you feel a bit better. 

Maybe you needed this. This kind of one-on-one meeting. It's clear that he came to that same conclusion too, but for now, you'll enjoy your coffee, sit in the decreasingly uncomfortable silence, and look forward to the days you won't cry as much anymore.

[simonrillleyyysss]

⋆ ˚౨ৎ;;PUT THE RADIO ON

🍡🩰 🧸

16.10.23

innocent!plushieobssessed!reader x könig

warnings; oral sex (f!receiving) afab, squirting, face sitting, spit, innocence!kink, overstimulation, kissing

notes; i love writing plush obsessed reader, thanks for the request, anon!

königs hands slid up your thighs, watching you shift onto your side and snuggle against him, eyes slowly fluttering open as you looked up at the mountain of a man beside you, your arm slung around a group of stuffed animals-the fluffy toys pushed up against your torso, mumbling.

‘are you okay, liebste?’

he questioned, brows furrowing as he looked down at you, smiling softly at you as you nodded, pressing a kiss to your nose—leaning in to deepen the kiss, hands shifting upwards to fiddle with the hem of your shorts, slowly tugging them down.

‘könig..’

you whispered, blinking a few times to regain your vision—looking at him with a hint of confusion, yawning; hand moving to run through his overgrown bangs, playing with the bun hanging low at the back of his head, closing your eyes with a sigh.

his hands didn’t falter, discarding of your shorts and slowly tugging your panties off, lowering to his tummy as he slowly kissed his way from your tummy, down to your pretty cunny— his tongue slowly running through the slick folds, causing your eyes to widen and gasping with a moan.

‘oh—oh!’

‘that’s it, Liebling.’

‘feelt es sich gut an?“

you nodded, biting your lip as his tongue delved deeper, sliding into the velvety walls of your sensitive cunny, his head slowly moving up and down—his hooked nose bumping against your puffy cliff, whining and twitching, spitting onto your pretty cunt, suddenly moving back down to eat you like his last meal—groaning and moaning against the heat of your slick cunny, drool dripping onto it, watching you moan and plead

‘oh!mm—ah..mnghh! slow-slow down..!’

you moaned, back arching as he continued, pink muscle of his mouth thrusting in and out of your hole, completely pussy-drunk now.

‘tell your teddies how good it feels, Kleine Hure.’

‘innocent little baby.’

without any hesitation, he pulled you ontop of his face: forcing you to sit on his nose, teeth gently scraping against the puffy folds, tongue gliding up and down as his hands helped guide you back and forth, assisting you to get a better rythmn, listening to your meek sobs and babbles.

‘thank you!thankyouthankyouthankyou!’

you sobbed in pleasure, feeling his bumped nose brush against your flit, stubble tickling your thighs.

‘feels so—ahmgh! sogooooddd…yes!yesyesyesyes—!’

you giggled drunkenly,eyes rolling back as you reached out to grab a teddy, holding the bunny stuffie close to your chest as you rocked back and forth.

‘köönig! i can’t—can’t hold it-!’

‘hold it.’

‘ca-ohmygod! can’t!’

the austrian slapped your clit gently, watching you squirm before he forced you down onto his tongue, watching your thighs tremble, before they wrapped around his head and squeezed—gushing all over his mouth; eyes fluttering shut in relief—before crying out and squeezing your teddy, trying to pull away from his face—but his hands glued your thighs in place, tears spilling onto your cheeks as you let out choked moans.

‘no-noo! can’t—it’s too muchhhh!’

you begged, eventually convincing him to let you go, his face wet with squirt and slick, licking his lips as he offered you a confident smirk, running a hand through his hair as you panted, slapping your pussy once more for good measures before leaning forward and kissing your cheek.

‘blowjob?’

he asked, squeezing your hand.

‘..yeah.’

‘Gutes.’

[radio-writes]

Hi, will u do a human alastor x side mistress reader, so basically he has a wife, but he doesn't really love her, so when he's on the air he has sex with his side mistress in the radio tower. His side mistress knows he's a serial killer, by the way. You don't have to do this if u don't want to. I love ur fics.

By the Gold Ring on His Hand

Synopsis: He loved you and only you. You were his to cherish, to adore, to worship. Sweet words he whispered softy, promisingly, into your ear. Sweet words he also whispered softly to his wife.

Warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), mentions of murder, heavy manipulation, cheating

Tags: human!alastor, alastor x reader, gn!reader, reader is the other wo/man

MDNI

You've always revered Alastor.

You were entranced by the way his smile never broke. The way he seemed to take control of any situation he was put in. The he always managed to just charm the socks off of anyone he's ever met.

You loved the way he made little corny jokes. You loved the way he danced—barely drunk from the bottles of rye he downed.

And oh, did you love the way he spoke.

You could listen to him all day on the radio, just absolutely smitten and melting where you stood. 

The one thing you didn't love about Alastor—the one thing you despised, really—was his wife.

That naive little thing. So meek, so quiet. You always hated the way she would cling onto his arm at parties. Loathed the way she'd shyly smile at everyone, including you.

There was just no way that delicate stupid girl could satisfy someone like Alastor.

Alastor needed, deserved, a real partner. One that had enough of a spine not to be stepped on, at the very least.

Your fingers twitched, aching to touch him more; to caress his thighs that perfectly framed your head. You wanted to feel him beneath you, reassure your heart that he was here with you.

You groaned as your longing was denied. You felt Alastor press his shoes harder against your hands, pinning your palms to the floor. The fingers in your hair tightened their grip, guiding you more strictly down his cock.

It was enough to cheer you up a little. Although your touch was declined, the little vibrations your sounds made clearly still had an effect on him. You felt a little proud knowing something as small as you moaning around him pleasured the hefty cock in your mouth.

The reality was far more bitter, though. Not that Alastor would ever let you know that.

Truth be told his grip was a warning. He had explicitly told you to be quiet, to keep your hands to yourself. But you seemed to be so adamant on testing his patience today, as you were refusing to do both.

Alastor's smile strained just a tad bit more in annoyance as he spoke into the microphone. "Hate to finish up the broadcast with some sour news, but someone's gotta keep you lovely folks up to date!"

You continued to bob your head between his legs, hidden from the rest of crew by the control panel. You made sure to drag the flat of your tongue over the under side of Alastor's dick each every time you lowered your mouth to his crotch. If your ministrations did anything for him, you couldn't really tell.

His voice was perfect, not a tone out of place as he continued his broadcast. You've never seen a man so well put together while having someone's mouth serve them so reverently.

"Seems the coppers found a couple more for the good old wooden kimonos last night. Grizzly sight it was—so I heard. Hate to be the ones to dig those poor souls out."

Even though he was the one to put them there in the first place, you suppressed a laugh. Not that you were complaining, though. It was part of how you and Alastor finally got together, after all.

Alastor finished up his broadcast, and you continued your slow little prayer on your knees. He waved his staff away when they tried to approach, simply sending them off with a friendly jest that he'd meet them at the bar after he cleaned up his work station.

It was only when the lock clicked behind his crew did Alastor finally acknowledge you. His lovely smile was intact, but you could tell his mood was a little soured by the way his brown eyes narrowed at you from behind his glasses.

The hand gripping your hair pulled you off his cock, a pathetic whine escaping your lips as he did so.

Alastor tried to ignore the—rather off putting—sight of a thin string of fluids connecting your mouth to the head of his dick. He bent down closer to you, keeping his gaze locked on yours.

"My dear, I thought I told you to be quiet while I worked." His voice was as sweet as ever.

You chuckled lightly, you wanted to move your hands to cup his cheek, bring him even closer to you. Perhaps even for a kiss to lift his seemingly bad mood.

The moment Alastor so much as felt your fingers twitch, he stepped harder on your hands again, keeping them pinned to the floor and away from him.

You opted to shrug your shoulders sheepishly instead. "I may have gotten carried away," You responded coyly "You just taste so good."

Alastor did his best not to cringe, choosing to tighten his smile. Ah, you were in one of your moods again, he thought.

"Then why don't you go ahead and have your fill of me now." His hand left the back of your head, resting instead on the sides of his chair as he leaned back. The gold band on his ring finger momentarily caught the light and drew your attention to it.

Your chest tightened just the slightest bit. You absolutely hated the reminder that Alastor wasn't fully yours. That he'd still go home to his stupid wife at the end of the day.

But not for long, at least that's what Alastor had promised you. And not right now. 

You ran your tongue along the thick vein of his cock, from the bottom, up its shaft, and smiled at the sight of his hips bucking up to your touch.

"In your mouth now again, darling." It didn't sound like a request, but you obeyed faithfully anyway. You were rewarded with a soft sigh as you welcomed him back in your warm mouth.

You'd bet your job that his sweet little wife never pleased him like this. Skittish thing like that would probably run at the thought of putting her lips on a hard dick.

Well, her loss is your gain.

You were so far gone in your own head that you hadn't even noticed Alastor wasn't looking at you.

No, instead his head craned towards the ceiling of his studio, eyes closed and tired.

He was trying to focus on the physical sensations you brought him, not that he had much of an interest in it in the first place, but he tried hard to concentrate. All he had to do was finish, and he could finally leave. Leave you here with some sweet promises, and not have to deal with your disgustingly loving gaze on him until maybe his next shift on Monday.

Not that spending time with his wife at home felt any more appealing.

He pushed the thoughts away, willing his mind to stay on you instead. He thought he can finish, at least he could feel the bottom of his gut tightening just a tiny fair bit.

He focused on the way your tongue felt as it swirled around him. How your lips stretched so softly to fit his shaft. How you practically drooled over his cock. How you—

You were noisier now that you knew you were alone, and it wasn't doing Alastor any favors. A rather loud moan cutting through his mind and it almost made the coil in his gut loosen completely, his shoulders tensing instead.

No, no this just wouldn't do. He had much more interesting plans tonight than to sit there and buy your silence with his cock.

His hand reached out once more, much less gentle than it was before. With less grace and care, Alastor's hand rested on the back of your neck, before harshly pushing you down as he bucked his hips up.

Your eyes were wide, a surge of panic filled you at the suddenness of the sensation. His dick hit the back of your throat and you tried to pull back immediately.

Alastor's other hand came up to the back of your head to push you back down. Your nose pressed firmly to his skin as his cock pushed past your throat. 

Your arms strained as you tried to use your hands to push him away, but Alastor merely stepped on your fingers harsher to get you to stay.

"Ah, fuck, darling. Stay like that. Oh that's lovely." You thought you heard him say.

He was finally looking down at you. The way you heaved as you choked on him. The way your body spasmed to get away. The way panic filled your pretty tearful eyes. 

Your throat tightening around him as you tried desperately to breathe felt miles better than whatever you were trying to do before, and it was exactly what he needed.

"Finally," He breathed out softly, almost in a moan, feeling the coil in his gut finally snap. He pressed you down, just the tiniest bit more and you felt his warm seed flow down your willing throat.

"There we go, dear." Alastor's harsh grip in your hair loosened, slowly petting through your locks. The hand on your neck remained, locking you in and rendering you unable to pull free.

Your eyes flickered up to him, part of you ready to beg for mercy, but one sight of his dazed smile made you pliant. Your body relaxed into his touch, simply letting him ride his high out with your bruised throat. 

He must have just gotten carried away, that's all. Simply something new he never got to do with his stupid wife. 

You felt his softening dick slowly pull out of you, his shaft dragging across your tongue and you finally pulled free with a choked gasp of air.

A gentle hand tipped your face back to meet Alastor's before you could be too dramatic. He pressed a gentle, chaste, kiss to the corner of your lips to calm you.

"You'll have to forgive me, my dear. Your body just makes me feel far too good—just couldn't hold back." The charm practically oozed from his smooth tongue.

Your gaze softened immediately. Your hands, now free from beneath his feet, made their way to his cheeks but he easily pulled back.

Really, what on earth made you think he'd let you touch him with filthy hands. Had you forgotten he'd been stepping on them this entire time? Kind of rude, if you'd ask him.

Not that any of those thoughts showed when Alastor simply, gently, helped you up to your feet by your elbow.

"Always so good to me, my dear. How I got so lucky to have a divine thing like you service me, I'd never know." He stood up with you, part of him did enjoy it whenever he got to look down on you in a more literal sense.

He pressed his body against yours, arms on the control panel behind you as he caged you in. His lips barely grazed your ears as he continued his sweet, sweet, praises. "Why couldn't you have shown up sooner, dear? I would have had it all." 

You placed your hand on his chest, failing to notice the way he flinched at the touch. "You still could, you know? All you have to do is leave that naive little thing and I could give you this every night." Your voice was low, seductive, alluring.

Alastor held back an annoyed groan. This again. His eyes rolled, not that you could see it with his head nuzzling against your shoulder.

"We both know I treat you so much better." You continued, hand trailing up to scratch at the hair at the bottom of his neck. "And I'd never hold you back from that little hobby of yours either." 

He chuckled at that, you could feel his lips at the base of your neck. "My dear, we've been through this." His kisses were soft, gentle, barely touching you, just like how he preferred it. "You don't have to feel so threatened by her, it's you that I want."

"Then why don't you—"

A gasp passed your lips.

"Leave her?" Alastor continued your sentence when you couldn't. His warm tongue licked over the reddened skin he bit. "I will, my dear, I will. Things are just a bit complicated at the moment."

More complicated than you knew, really.

He couldn't leave his wife because her dad was a big boss of his station. His ass would be out on the streets in minutes if he ever hurt that shy doll.

But he couldn't just kill you either. Not when your dad was the town sheriff.

He was lucky you were so obsessed with him that fucking you once in a while was enough to keep your pretty little mouth shut.

Honestly, just fuck the day you caught him slicing that man's flesh. That scum was hardly worth all the trouble he now has to go through.

"But I'm working on it." Alastor promised as he finally pulled away from you.

You gazed up into his warm, honest eyes. You adored the way he towered over you, really. It's like you fit together so perfectly—like puzzle pieces, was it? Was that how that cheesy line went.

"And then we can be together?" Your palms move to cup his face, and Alastor caught them on instinct before they could.

But you didn't notice, not when he corrected his actions so smoothly by pressing his lips to your knuckles instead—he tried his best to ignore how filthy they are, just to hide his mistake. "Of course, darling. In fact, I think I can work things out by tonight." 

Your father was going to be alone at the station.

Your eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes, my dear. Soon all of this hiding and sneaking around will be a thing of the past." He said, almost with the same amount of excitement as you.

He couldn't wait to toss your body in a ditch next to your old man's corpse.

"But I musn't be late"

He'll miss his chance to slit your father's throat if he lingered any longer.

"Soon you wouldn't have to be jealous of my wife, dear."

After all, the dead don't envy do they?

Alastor willed himself to humor you one last time, pressing his lips to yours before he bid you a good night.

He couldn't have rushed out that door any faster.

Who would have known trying to keep his cover would have eaten up so much of his time? He barely had any left to do the very act he was even trying to cover for.

Honestly, how troublesome.

But no matter, no matter.

He glanced back at the station. He could vaguely see your lovestruck figure through the window. He watched amusedly as you pathetically held your fingers to your lips, absolutely lost on cloud nine.

It won't be long until he was rid of you, and that fact was enough to lift his sour mood.

[luveline]

kbd universe is my absolute favorite 🤩 maybe a request for when the new baby is home and she’s going through a colicky phase and won’t sleep and reader and steve are super stressed and doubting if they can do this and avery overhears and reassured them they’re the best parents? (srry if this is too specific, any direction you go will be amazing!!)

ty babe ♡ kisses before dinner au

Avery Harrington wakes up with her little sister's hand over her nose. She snorts in surprise, bed springs creaking formidably as she dislodges the small hand and rolls away from her added heat.

Bethie, the younger sister in question, has been sneaking into Avery's bed at night to put distance between them and the nonstop crying of the new baby. The baby, Avery notices, seems to be crying right now from downstairs. 

She lets her curiosity get the better of her. Slipping out of bed, she makes sure to cover Bethie with the blankets again before she leaves just like their dad does, imitating Steve's gentle cheek touch before creeping away. You and dad finally got rid of the baby gates (though they've been on and off over the years, you've retired them until the youngest learns to crawl), making her journey down a secret one. 

She can hear two voices at once just under the rattling baby cries. Steve's louder and yours softer, both speaking with the love Avery's come to expect. 

"Maybe try holding her legs higher," you suggest. 

"I think I've held her every way a baby can be held without hanging her upside down." 

"I know, honey." You're always tired lately, your voice hoarse with fatigue. "I can have her again. Pass her over." 

You get sweet when you're tired. Her dad gets cranky. He told Avery once that that's why you're good together, but Avery knows you can be just as cranky after a while. 

Avery pauses in the door of the living room. You're sitting on the farthest seat of the leather couch while Steve's standing, passing the baby to you carefully. She cries and cries no matter how much caution he shows. 

"What if she never stops?" Steve asks. 

"She will. She'll get too tired to keep going." 

"I heard about this baby who had his heart in the wrong place." 

"Steve. Honey, sit down. You're tired." 

"I can't sleep while she's crying like that. No point." 

Avery frowns as the conversation between you both devolves. She doesn't want to make things worse by showing you that she's awake, watching and waiting in the dark as you pat the baby's back desperately, and Steve's eyes get glassy. 

Avery has seen her dad cry loads of times. At the movies, the radio, sad stories. Steve cried when she broke her pinky finger, and cried again when they took the cast off. Avery isn't sure she's seen him get upset over something like this. 

He whispers something. You whisper back, trying to hold his hand in the dark, but you stop when he says, "What if we can't do this?" 

"Steve, we have to. This is it. And we want to, so… I don't know." You sound dejected yourself, looking down at the baby where she refuses to take a bottle hopelessly. "Maybe we can't do it." 

Avery can't know that neither of you truly feel this way, that you're both tired enough to catastrophize. She just watches her dad, an unshakable pillar of support, start to waver, and she knows you've got it wrong. 

"Daddy?" she asks. 

Steve rubs his eyes with a rough hand. "Ave?" he asks, plastering a meek smile over his face. He's one of the handsome dad's, everybody says so, probably because he's always smiling. 

"Sorry, did the baby wake you up?" you ask. 

Avery grins as Steve opens his arms and runs into them. Too tired to lift her up, Steve stays crouched for the hug, but eventually sits on the floor, pulling Avery into his lap. Closer, Avery cringes at the baby and her screaming. 

"Beth smushed my nose," she says. 

Steve turns her face to check it over. "You look okay. Does it hurt?" He squeezes her cheeks into a smile. 

"No," she laughs. 

Steve gives her another hug. "Well, that's good." 

He just cuddles her. Avery melts into his touch, the sound of the baby's cries feeling further away, Steve's hand covering one of her ears. 

"Sorry," he says into her hair. "I know it's not fair. Baby's just figuring out what she needs." 

"You said you can't do it." 

Baby shrieks. Steve pulls Avery's head back. "What?" 

"You and mom." Avery turns to look at you. You're frowning, bobbing the baby against your chest. "You said we can't do it." 

"We were being silly," Steve says. 

"We're tired," you agree.

"And your sister won't stop crying, we're worried she's not well, and it's really tiring, Ave, but we weren't thinking straight. Of course we can do it," Steve says breezily. 

"Yes, you can. You're the best mom and dad ever. Ever ever!" she says severely. "You can do everything, I know you can do it. Maybe I can have her and you guys can sleep and then tomorrow you'll be ready again." 

You and Steve laugh at the same time, chuckles that warm her heart, though she knows she's being shot down. "That's really nice of you, but that's okay. Me and mom got this," Steve says, brushing the back of his finger down her cheek.

Avery preens at the attention, back going lax in his arm. Steve leans down to hug her, his chin digging into her shoulder, heavy with fatigue. She doesn't tell him to move. 

It's a miracle that the baby seems to run out of steam not long after, marked by your happy sigh, "Aw, good girl. You're hungry, I knew it. You just don't like these bottle nibs." 

"See? I told you you could do it," Avery says.

You offer her a grateful, adoring smile. "You're my smart girl, that's why." You bop the baby on the nose with the tip of your finger. "And you're my tired girl." 

"What about me?" Steve asks. 

"You're my pillow, handsome. Come up here, I need to lean on you. Ave, you can be my blanket." 

[selineram3421]

*lies awake at night and has an idea*

[Its 4 a.m. by the way.]

Other Worldly

Prologue

Alastor X Shy Reader

(Oneshot turned short story)

Warnings? ⚠

⚠ selectively mute reader, mentions of death-drowning, shaking head = no, signing-ASL ⚠

They were an oddity.

How could such a meek and bashful thing like them end up in this fiery inferno.

Alastor watched from the bar as they bumped into the check-in counter and squeaked before getting off balance and falling.

Clumsy, jumpy, barely making a sound other than some odd squeaks.

Yes, they were quite the wonder.

An entertaining one.

❇

You were somewhat new to Hell. At least two weeks in.

There was an accident where you worked in the aquarium and well..you kinda caused a mass drowning? It sounds impossible but it happened.

It was very challenging to get up after your fall, but you managed and wound up at the hotel.

With the help of the Princess, you were able to figure out what kind of demon you are. It came with pros but it also came with cons. One con being that you couldn't speak unless you wanted to hypnotize someone.

It made you a little sad, but also relieved. You didn't do well around others, too shy to speak up or get involved with anything that put you in the spotlight.

Maybe it was for the best.

There would be one thing you wouldn't give up though.

❇

Alastor was in the hotel's library.

There wasn't a whole lot of demons coming into this room, especially after some guests saw him walk in here a few times.

It didn't matter. At least there were multiple things that could entertain him. A small music room with instruments, projectors in another with film reels and other types of tapes, and the most dazzling room of all was the astronomy room.

The Princess made sure to have this room's dome ceiling painted with an accurate mural of the Earth's night sky.

Deciding to mess with the trinkets on the shelves, the demon in red walked towards the back of the room and glanced at the star charts. Tapping at some of the books and measuring tools on the desk nearby before sitting down on a chair.

No one ventured this far into the library. He was probably the only demon who knew of this room's existence.

And then he heard something.

Someone had entered the room.

Turning around and looking between the shelves, Alastor spots the timid demon that he enjoys flustering so much near the armillary sphere in the middle.

A little spook wouldn't be too bad.

He thought with a small grin, starting to summon up a shadow creature. However both dissipated when there was a note sung into the air.

"Let's go in the garden

You'll find something waiting

Right there where you left it lying upside down

When you finally find it, you'll see how its faded

The underside is lighter when you turn it around "

The Radio Demon sat there, mouth agape as they sang.

"Everything stays right where you left it

Everything stays

But it still changes

Ever so slightly, daily and nightly

In little ways, when everything stays "

Like a siren- a water sprite? A nymph? It was hard to pinpoint what he could compare their voice to.

It was other worldly.

Their voice echoed due to the room's acoustics.

He didn't notice that he had gotten out of the chair, didn't notice he was making his way towards them, didn't notice when they stopped singing until they gasped.

Blinking out of his trance, he found them facing him and covering their mouth with their hands. A panicked look in their eyes.

"You stopped.", Alastor spoke up. "Why not finish?"

They shook their head quickly and backed away.

Before he could say something else, they moved their arms down, one made into a fist on their chest and moving in a circle clockwise. Then they ran out. (Sorry)

He stood there for a while, his smile widening. Maybe there was more to them than he thought.

How interesting~

I'm still on break but I couldn't help myself with this one. 🐚 (Old note)

~Seline, the person.

Part 1

.

Alastor ML I🎙 | ChL OW🦀

[aplaceforyourhearttorest]

Backseat Paradise ☼ James Hetfield (18+)

The press of your boyfriend's steel studded rings feels cool against your cloying and clothed back and waist as his wide palms beckon you even closer to him, the heels of your bare feet beginning to lift off of the scalding hot pavement beneath you as he leans back against his car. Blue, mischievous filled eyes peer down at you as you try to glare up at him, an affectionate smile taking over your expression as you're insistently molded up against him. Your oversized jean jacket falls down your shoulders during James' playful movements, leaving you in only your bikini top and denim skirt as he pushes it further down your forearms and tugs it off from around your wrists. Before you can protest and go to bend down to retrieve it, a gentle and sweet kiss is pressed to your lifted lips and a calloused hand comes up to grip the nape of your neck in a firm caress and hold.

"Remind me why you can't come over to mine again?" James asks you, his voice coming out muffled as he teasingly runs his cheeky grin up and down your sun kissed jawline. You purse your lips and bite back a groan as his thumb grazes a sensitive patch of skin, your eyelids nearly fluttering shut as one of his canines latches itself onto the side of your neck and delicately presses itself into the welcoming and overheated flesh of it. You raise a hand to grasp onto one of his wrists as his mouth fully descends down and onto your clavicle, the firm grip on your neck coming in handy as he tilts your head to the side for better and easier access.

The background sounds of the melody coming from James' car's radio and your mutual friends partying in the yard only a few meters behind you become white noise, as a hickey is sucked into the skin surrounding your collarbone and the hand around your waist begins to dip lower.

"Owed our friends a little get together, to make up for all the times I kept bailing on them to spend time with you." You try to tease, your tone of voice ending in a whine as he fully leans back and sits on the driver's sides rolled-down window space, his mouth detaching from your now bruising skin with an audible pop as he does so. James bares you a wolfish grin as you try to compose yourself, your chest unsteadily rising and falling as arousal pools in your gut from just the simple teasing of his mouth alone.

"I don't think our friends would mind very much if I took you away by now," James tuts, his hand lightly patting the plump arch of your ass as he momentarily takes his eyes off of you. You follow his line of sight and breathe out a huff of laughter as you find half of your guys' friends fully inebriated, the other half of them following close behind and stumbling instead of dancing. James' lips inadvertently quirk up at the sound that pillows out of you, the grip on your neck loosening to trail down and caress the bottom half of your spine instead. "So, what do you say? Come home with me."

You glance over at him and playfully squint your eyes as he fixes his expression to look innocent, your heart restlessly pacing in your chest as you catch and digest the intended change from his earlier words. "You play dirty, Hetfield." You muse, scoffing and shoving at his shoulders as he continues to play ignorant and meek. You let up once he pinches at the dimpled skin of your back and let out a squeal as he steadies his hand on the base of your spine and fully lifts you off the ground. Dread temporarily fills you as he leans down to grab at your jacket with just one hand keeping you upright and on him, you nearly turning into the position of beginning a cartwheel and James cackling out a laugh as you tightly grip onto the chest of his own denim.

James haphazardly tosses your jacket into the window closest to the back seat, before placing your feet on top of his and walking you over that way to the passenger's side. You loosen your grip on his jacket once you two make it over safely, and you end up watching delightfully as a blush brightly blazes your boyfriend's cheeks after you give him a grateful kiss, once he opens the door for you and lifts you up once again to slide you in. "Such a gentleman." You mirthfully praise, fully taking advantage of the temporary upper hand you know you'll lose as soon as you two make it home, or at least past the doorway.

James sends the few friends of yours coherent enough to say goodbye to the two of you a wave, before hastily opening his own door and making his way into the driver's sides seat. You stretch your arm out over the long one-seater of the front half of the car to tug the damp and sweat laden collar of his jacket off and away from his neck, grazing your thumb against the exposed skin as he sends you a grateful smile and tries to place the key into the ignition. You silently raise an eyebrow as you watch his hand slightly stammer and tremor in place, before successfully finding the insert. You go to ask him if he's alright, before pausing and widening your eyes as they travel down and find purchase on the obvious and painful looking erection, pressing down and against the zipper of his skintight and constricting jeans.

Self-gratification overflows though you as you realize that he's as on edge as you are, your lower limbs tensing up and closing shut as his cologne and natural scent permeates and surrounds you once he closes his own door and begins to shift gears. A warm and calloused palm engulfs your tanned left leg to slide you over and closer to him, your boyfriend grinning to himself as you gasp out loud and your legs subconsciously and automatically open at his touch. You narrow your eyes and then you grin to yourself, before sliding one of your own hands over and onto his thigh and gripping the meat closest to his groin, a perverse and fulfilled grin overtaking your features as he jumps in his seat and begins to fidget, his foot almost narrowly missing the accelerator as your fingertips lightly tap themselves against his oversensitive and pulsating ballsack.

You send him an innocent smile as he glares over your way, before carefully starting to drive forward. His glare saying, wait until we get home, and your smile responding with, two can play that game.

☼

Your raise your free hand to wipe at the sweat collecting itself on the precipice of your right eyebrow, fighting back your own annoyance at the upcoming holiday traffic you two are currently stuck in. "Looks like we aren't getting back to your place as soon as we had hoped for." You lightly say in the now quiet and tense silence impeding itself in the car, nudging your shoulder against your downtrodden boyfriend's as his fingers whiten with his tight hold around the steering wheel.

"The only reason I came out today was so that I could come pick you up and get to spend the night with you, before the rest of the band and I have to pack up and travel across state for another venue tomorrow afternoon." James grits out harshly, his head reeling back to rest against the headrest behind him with a thud, eyes absentmindedly looking forward as the line of cars in front of the two of you continuously refuses to move. Guilt begins to weigh you down and you slightly curl into yourself for comfort, the movement catching the attention of your boyfriend and causing him to wrap an arm around your bare shoulders as soon as he catches sight of you in his peripheral vision.

"This isn't your fault, babe. The concerts got pushed forward a week in advance because of the weather and the quick selling of the tickets, and you didn't even know I had to leave so early until now," James frets over you as you rapidly try to blink back tears of frustration, only feeling slight relief once you lean into his touch rather than backing away or out of it. "I'm not upset with you at all. I'm just feeling like shit because I have to leave again so soon, and I've barely even been at home or with you these past few months, and that's where I want to be."

You entangle your fingers in his and sigh out a watery exhale, resting your head against his bicep and sending him a wilted smile as he looks down at you, filled with worry. You go to reassure him that you're alright, before halting as your eyes catch an empty and isolated parking spot on the outskirts of the side of the road.

"Pull over." You breathe out, using your joined hands to point over to the parking spot that's underneath a handful of yellow-orange leaved trees. James furrows his eyebrows in confusion but decidedly agrees with you, and somehow manages to find enough space to maneuver his way around the overabundant number of cars surrounding his own, and haphazardly makes his way into the spot you had just pointed out.

"Why exactly did we get out of the traffic we were nearly already halfway through?" James asks you, his frustration at himself and the situation now long gone, with amusement now filling the entirety of his tone as he takes in your newfound excitement. "Look around." You simply say, causing him to scrunch his nose and twist the key in the ignition to turn off the engine. James squints his eyes but can't see much through the overgrown out and slumped tree branches collecting themselves around the roof of the car. Their lived in limbs rest themselves just inches above the top of the car and hide the windows from any outside eyes and onlookers, only short and beautiful colored beams of light from the fourth of July set ups on lampposts making their way through the protective leaves of the trees.

"Baby, I know I always say I love your imagination, but this might be a little too much." A laugh titters its way from in between your lips, and James watches you incredulously as you hike your skirt up and climb your way to the backseat. You rest your arms near his still outstretched one and nod your head towards the clock still operating on the top of his car's dashboard, your feet on the seat behind you unintentionally kicking your jacket to the floor.

"It's 10:15 pm right now, which means that if we get back into the shit show we call traffic, we won't be back home until close to 12:30am. Which means that we'll both be too tired to have some fun, and we'll both end up blue balled and pissed off once you get on the bus with the rest of the guy's tomorrow afternoon," your heart swells as you watch James bellow out laughter from your words, that giving you enough confidence to keep on going. "So how about instead of that, we put this old can of a car to use, see how far forward this front seat can go, have some fun of our own, then head on home and take a shower together, get some well needed rest, then have an amazing breakfast together, and pack up the rest of the shit you forgot to before you came all the way out here to pick me up?"

You arch an eyebrow upward and rest your head on the collection of your hands in front of you while James watches you with absolute stars in his eyes, before seemingly unfreezing and damn near lunging himself at you and over the front seat.

You let out a shocked bout of laughter as he almost lands on top of you and simultaneously flips you both over all at once. James brushes away the stray hairs that cascade themselves down in the intimate air you two share as you comfortably straddle his waist and lower your upper half toward him.

"Goddamn, do I love you." He breathes out, his declaration taking all of the breath out of your lungs, just like it did the very first time he ever said it to you. You reach back and untie the loops of your bikini top, letting out a wild gasp as James' mouth immediately latches itself onto one of your nipples.

"Show me." You moan, your hips grinding steady, yet erratic circles against his still hard and leaking cock. James grins against your perked areola and watches as your mouth gapes open as he pinches your other erect nipple with his free thumb and forefinger. Gladly, he thinks. He'll show you. With pleasure.

☼

James watches you hungrily as you ride his heavily ringed fingers, your pleasure almost feeling like his own as he feels the ridges of the inside of your velvet-like cunt suck and dance their way down his curling and soaked three digits. Your hips buck each time you make your way down to his last knuckles, the coolness of the silver of his rings making your clit sting and pearl in the most delicious way.

You let out a resounding cry as your boyfriend beneath you slowly extracts his fingers from inside of you, before fucking them back into you with renewed fervor and brushing along your sponge-like spot, each and every single time. "Am I showing you yet, baby?" James taunts, his cockhead weeping and creating a dark stain against the zipper of his jeans as he twists his wrist and holds you in place as you shake on top of him. You nod instead of verbally answering him, afraid your voice will crack if you speak out loud.

James tsks in disappointment, before removing his fingers altogether and placing your bare sex on the rough fabric of his pants. You let out a wince as your pussy walls tighten from the sensation, a bead of your arousal already bleeding and adding onto his mess as soon as you two make contact.

"I already have you nonverbal, and I'm not even inside of you yet." James playfully teases you, a small grin making its way onto your face despite the fact that you were cheated out of an orgasm. "Please." You whisper, wincing at the sound of the harshness of your own voice, the multitude of screams and moans bellowed out of you already temporarily damaging your voice box.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of you," your boyfriend croons in a placating tone, one hand reaching up to delicately wrap it around your throat and the other reaching down to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans. "I always do."

You lick your lips as you feel his erection jump against your already swollen and sensitive clit, and you quietly shake your head and gently brush his hands away. "Want to take care of you this time, baby. Want to give you something to remember while you're on the road." James raises and eyebrow and grins widely, the laughter he felt bubbling up from the sound of your broken voice dying down in his chest as you reach down to grip him through the fabric.

Satisfaction floods your gut as you watch your boyfriend grit his teeth underneath you, the cockiness and self-assuredness quickly deteriorating into want and need as you grip him with one hand and unbutton his jeans with the other. "Going to make you feel so good, baby. I promise." You whimper, your mouth salivating as his appreciative length finally comes into view, your tongue finding purchase on the back of your teeth as your hand can barely fit around his entire girth. James lets out a painful sounding curse as he watches you reach down to your own sex and use your own slick to coat and lube his erection, his balls tightening and raising from just the sight alone.

The audible sound of your slick moving in your palm as it connects and spreads in between your fingers makes you blush in the near darkness, a light blue hue of a star bleeding its way through the leaves and making your expression barely visible in the small confines of the car.

James mentally grips onto every single expression and crease that makes its way on your face as you bring his cock to your soaked entrance and slowly make your way down his sizable length. James brings his free hand up to rub slow circles in the base of your spine as you have to take a break halfway through, nothing but love and praise falling from in between his gaping lips as he watches your pussy slowly swallow him whole, an in synch and harmonious sigh ringing out and becoming a cacophony with your matching moans as you eventually bring yourself up on your feet and press your upper half against his.

"You're doing so well for me, always such a good fucking girl." He whispers and pants, moans into your hair, his hand sliding around to your other hip to give you leverage as you milk him dry with each riding motion you make. You tremble every time you bottom out, his cockhead breaching past your pleasure spot and feeling like it was trying to make its way into your womb to breed you. His zipper scratches against the soft skin on the underside of your ass, almost mimicking the sensation of his nails raking themselves into the skin of your hips as he hoists you up and down on his lap.

Warmth grows and tethers in your groin as sweat accumulates and then cries its way down your arched spine, your hands gripping onto your boyfriend's shoulders as your legs and thighs begin to weaken and burn. "Need you." Is the only thing you have to whisper, before James has you carefully placed underneath him, with each leg of yours on each of his shoulder blades.

James grunts as your walls suck him in and soak his entire shaft and public bone with slick, the car heady with the scent of sex and want and longing as he deliberately thrusts himself inside of you. "Think you can fuck me some type of special way and I won't forget about you while I'm out on the road?" He asks you, the hand not holding him up and tangled in your hair on the seat below the two of you reaching down to harshly rub at your clit. "I'll think of you anyway, all the fucking time. I couldn't even try to think about another woman, you've ruined me." You let out a pleasured scream as you reach your first orgasm, your walls spasming so tightly around James that he has to stop mid thrust to collect himself, his hand on your clit rushing down to make a fist around his throbbing ballsack to stop himself from cumming. James takes in a deep breath and shakily curses out loud, before finding his momentum once again and fucking himself back into you.

"I think about you and finger myself before I fall asleep to the sound of your voice coming from the other side of the phone, when you're out of town and on tour. You've ruined me too." You confess weakly and nearly incoherently, the entire bottom half of your body seizing as he folds you in half and fucks into you blindly, his balls smacking against your backside and creating long, string-like lines with your arousal. "You're trying to kill me." James moans out like a plea, his chest feeling like it's going to give out with how much he's feeling all at once, the love he feels for you, and the death grip you've currently got around the entirety of the shaft of his dick.

Your laugh ends in a gasp as he bottoms out and jack hammers repeatedly against your g-spot, your mouth gaping wide open and a silent scream bellowing itself out of your gut as James fills you to the brim with his seed, your second orgasm gushing and mixing with his, the bottomless amount of your slick and release helping him fuck his cum up to and inside of your cervix. James holds you close as you slowly come back to, white spots still visible and apparent in your vision and your hands still holding on for dear life on his sweat clad shoulders and scratch marked skin.

You both let out a curse as he slowly removes his spent dick from inside of you, him now overly sensitive and your pussy walls relentlessly fluttering themselves shut to hold the rest of his overflowing release inside of you.

James carefully sits up and brings you with him in his lap, apologizing as you let out a soft hiss as his zipper makes brief contact with your still pulsating and spasming clit. "I love you too, by the way." You muse, uncaring of the harsh rasp in your voice as your boyfriend brings your head down to gently rest it against his sweating and heaving chest. Your lips quirk up into an exhausted smile as the vibration of his laughter runs and reverberates through you.

"I for sure fucking hope so."

Hushed sounds of honking and skidding tires and muffled curse words lazily make their way through the half cracked open windows as you two hold each other close, the red, white and blue starred deco on the lampposts shining through and becoming more apparent as time goes by, as if they were celebrating for you two.

You eventually raise your head from James' chest and smile up at him, placing a warm and affectionate kiss to his salty and sweaty lips, uncaring of the taste as he slides his tongue into the depths of your tiresome mouth. A soft hum of content is what you're left feeling as he leans back and blearily opens his eyes back open for you.

"You ready for that ride back home just yet?" You ask him, laughter building in your sore throat as he grunts out a half assed response. "You ready for that hot shower and breakfast in the morning?" Silence envelops the two of you, before James lets out a hearty chuckle and presses a warm kiss to your spent forehead.

"As long as you're here with me for the ride back and breakfast in the morning, I'm ready for anything." You rebut his sentiment with a hum of content yourself, and grin widely in the colorful night as you feel James playfully smack at the back of your bare thigh in retaliation. Raising a shaky hand to place underneath his chin and caress his stubbly skin, you two share a small and warm smile as the traffic slowly parts ways and condenses down to little to nothing, as the other cars and drivers ignorantly pass on by the two of you in your own, little world, protected by the trees and their colorful leaves.

"Together we go, then, baby." "Together we go."

[cuethediscoandthedrinks]

some random sfw+nsfw colonel quaritch headcanons~

• bites his bottom lip with his top row of teeth; harshly sucks in a breath with his mouth corners spread far apart when he's either thinking hard, or accidentally hurt himself

• clicks open a penknife he kept with him, and lightly presses his thumb against the open blade when he's lost in thought

• manspreads. not leaning back, but hunching over with his forearms resting atop his knees

• is a big fan of 'nuh-uh/uh-uh' when he disagrees with someone/something, usually whilst cocking an eyebrow

• has an inner sassy that comes out when someone eats the last of his favourite meal, or he has to search around his quarters for a lost belt or radio comm

• likes to ever so subtly closed-mouth hum along to some old country songs from back when he was a human, usually when he's fresh out of the shower. but also if he forgets himself mid-forest patrol, whilst hacking away at the stray vines

• is a bad loser. has a lot of big talk, but goes pretty silent when he starts to lose a card game; less insecure silent, and more bore his eyes into your soul while he juts out his bottom jaw through gritted teeth kinda silent

• misses fried eggs. he used to eat them plain too, just like 3-4 eggs cooked up on a plate, ideally with a fork and nothing else (maybe some pepper?)

• has a hangup about the fruit on pandora. it irks him that despite hating the seemingly airy fairy lifestyle and diet of the na'vi, after a long hard day he now craves a sweet, juicy fruit to chomp into more than anything else

• scrunches up his nose when he hears a joke he doesn't like. he doesn't care for intellectual/wordplay humor. he's secretly a big physical comedy fan; slip down a wet bank? trip over a stray root? choke on some water? he'll belly-laugh

• speaking of, he laughs like how 'hahaha' writes. he's a 'HA-ha-ha-HA-heuUUUgh-AHahahaHaa' laugher, like right from the chest, a little hoarse. def cups his tummy with an open palm when he laughs too

• he'll shit-talk anyone, but primarily those who he deems deserve it. any random person or textbook 'vulnerable'/weak person is almost too tame for him to enjoy mocking, oddly?

• it took him about 2 weeks to really get mentally comfortable sleeping with a tail. he tried fetal, he tried back, he tried left, right; he now sleeps face-down starfish with a foot off the end of the bed bc he kinda wants the under-bed demons to fight him. he'll fight anything

• says "..aHh, fffuckk i'm..c-cumming" when he cums. like, he'll utter some kind of let-you-know phrase, and then swiftly detour into telling you how much you'll love his seed, or how good it must feel to be filled up, or how fucked out you'll be when he's done with you

• counts down when he gives you an order sexually. if you resist which he hopes you do he'll stop, purse his lips and intimidatingly yet blankly stare at you, and begin with a sigh and an "..alright. 3."

• loves to spit in his palm, and then smear it across your cheek and lips. he smirks or straight up grins when he does it, and'll even sometimes dip two fingers into your warm, wet mouth just to amuse himself

• additionally may test your resolve and gag reflex. he finds it both incredibly arousing yet endearing when you gag on his fingers, so he'll push them as deep down your throat as you can bear. maybe spit into your open mouth while he does it if he feels like it

• deeply enjoys humiliating you. it's a big ole power surge for him, and he'll exploit any moment in which your facade falls and you show your innate meek and flustered interior for him

[deadcrowcalling]

DPS headcanons

charlie can't bake for shit, like he literally can't even make a box cake. he always screws something up

on the other hand, pitts is an amazing baker. the dude will make a whole damn cake from scratch like it was no big deal

anderperry = adhd and autism duo. you pick who is who

cameron is a history buff. i saw something saying he'd love top gun and i totally agree. that kid is a NERD

todd's a cat person

neil likes both. whatever makes todd happy makes him happy

charlie's a lightweight, unlike todd who (as we know) can down whiskey like nothing

considering DPS is set in 1959, meeks and pitts definitely were marvel and/or dc comics nerds. maybe one liked marvel and one liked dc, and they constantly fought about which was better. or they both like one franchise and trash talked the other

the rooftop radio dance party was totally not meeks and pitts' only dance party. they've had many

all the poets have at least been to charlie's huge house once and done stupid shit in his pool. somebody definitely belly-flopped off the diving board, really regretted it, and now it's an inside joke between all of them (probably be Knox or Pitts, if i'm honest.)

meeks likes plants. he's totally got a few small plants in his and pitts's dorm. totally has a tiny succulent named after some superhero (modern!au he'd so name it something dumb like megatron)

if transformers had come out when the poets were kids, pitts so would've been a transformers kid

charlie totally has converse (specifically red ones) and draws on the rubber parts (this is inspired from a comment on my post where i drew on my vans)

in relation to the last one, he's totally written carpe diem on the shoes. and a lighting bolt

modern!au knox would play fortnight 24/7 and never shut up about it

modern!au todd and neil have a shared farm on stardew valley. and a minecraft house

scratch that, all the poets have a minecraft server they all play on. charlie's house looks like ass while todd and meeks have a library that looks better than most modern architecture

growing up, meeks would sit in the library for hours skimming through the encyclopedias until he found anything that caught his eye. he'd be there form when the library opened to until it closed. the librarian eventually caught on to his schedule and started bringing him little sandwiches and chips and a juice, and always brought him something in the morning, like a granola bar.

maybe that's how pitts and meeks met. pitts was looking for cool like sci-fi novels and saw meeks sitting all by himself with a giant pile of encyclopedias next to him. pitts picked out a cool book and sat by him, the two never saying a word. this continued for a few weeks until one of the two worked up the courage to introduce themself. they became fast friends.

cameron over prepares. always has bandaids on him. mostly because charlie's constantly getting hurt

anyways, i could ramble for days! lmk if you like stuff like this and i can post some more headcanons and stuff

[atinylittlepain]

Chapter One

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: dark themes surrounding history of domestic violence, references to physical injury, heavy emotions (hope can also be heavy)

a/n | thank you to everyone who has expressed interest in this piece. I can't stress enough that while this work does deal with very dark, difficult subject matter, I always strive to speak to these things with as much care and respect as I can. I'd love to talk, if you'd like to share your thoughts on this one. thank you for reading.

.................................

Well the devil has been known to chase angels from their homes

And I know I got some angel left inside me

But my halo's hanging low

My halo's hanging low

And I'm nine hundred miles from my home

Angel Ballad as performed by Hurray for the Riffraff

................................

Quiet. It’s what he likes best about this job. The night comes on close and cool, even in the slow simmering slump of the summer. And nobody is ever out here at this time. No thrum and thrush of cars passing by on the highway. Just the jittery yips of coyotes, and maybe the growl of something bigger and meaner from time to time. Nights like this, he settles down in the drivers seat, letting the radio fizzle and thread through the quiet, whispered pasts and mournful words that he can hum along to. 

But tonight is different. 

He hears different before he sees it. That low murmur of an engine, and then the slow flood of headlights rounding the bend. Too fast, impossibly fast, there and gone. He fumbles, flicking on the siren and the lights before peeling onto the road, his car whimpering under the heavy demand of his foot on the gas pedal. 

His whole body is a closed fist curled around the wheel, waiting for this person to give up, surrender in the flash of their brake lights. But they hold on for a while, long enough for his jaw to start to ache with the way his teeth grit and grind. But eventually, the slow give in. 

Never gotten a taste for this, never liked this, the slow saunter up to the car, palm on the hood and the lean down, the spiel. He prefers the coyotes. 

But tonight is different.

Different stops his words in his throat. Wide eyes, unblinking and unmoving from his. A quick glance to hands still on the wheel, knuckles tensing over and over again, ready to bolt. The strap of her tank top has fallen down the slope of her pallid shoulder. He blinks, twice, hard, half-expecting an apparition to dissolve into gossamer breath before his eyes. But she just stares at him, lips parted in breath that catches somewhere in her sternum.

“Do you know how fast you were driving?” 

“I’m sorry, officer.”

“Probably a hundred and ten in a sixty-five. Where are you going this time of night anyways?” 

“Do I have to answer that?” Said meek, a little warble, though her boldness still surprises him, a clip of laughter getting stuck in his throat, disbelief bubbling up.

“License and registration, please.” Her brow pinches and falls, eyes darting out along the highway like she’s looking for an answer. Knee bouncing, a jolted wire of a woman. Drugs, he thinks, maybe. Though he’s seen drugs, and drugs don’t look like this exactly. Fear, pure and simple. 

“I can’t do that, officer.” 

“Why not?” It startles him, fingers instinctively jumping to his holster when she suddenly jerks her hand off the steering wheel. But it’s only to draw her curled fingers to her mouth, worrying at split and sore-looking skin between her teeth. 

“I just can’t.” 

“If you don’t, then I’ll have no choice but to take you in.” She doesn’t respond to that, just continues to stare at him. Part of him wants to let her go, catch and release, a quiet warning to slow down. Harmless enough, he thinks, shivering like a beaten dog under his stare. But he knows he can’t do that.

“Please step out of the car, ma’am.” Relief when she complies, her eyes staying turned down to her sneakers as she shuts the car door behind her. He keeps his eyes on hers as he clicks on the radio on his shoulder.

“I need to get a plate checked, H-W-G–” Before he can read out the rest of her license plate number, her whole body jolts, a stuttered step toward him, her hands stretched out, palms stark white with the splay.

“No! No, please don’t do that. Please.” For some reason, he listens, clicking off his radio as he squints at her. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” She’s washed out wan in the headlights of his car, her frown slanting in harsh shadows. No answer, he moves to speak into his radio again.

“It’s my husband’s– my husband’s car.” No ring on her finger, her eyes follow his in their quick sweep of her hand.

“It’s complicated.” He huffs, a tilt of his head toward his car. She takes two steps forward before stopping, considering him.

“You’re not going to cuff me?” “Ain’t got a reason to.” Not yet, at least. Still unsure just what this is, still trying to figure it out. He opens the door to the back of the car for her, not missing the wary flit of her eyes before she ducks into the backseat. Reluctant but willing to settle her anxious plumage in this cage. 

They leave her car, or her husband’s car, on the shoulder of the highway, the station not too far away. He finds himself stealing glances at her, her expression unreadable in the bare glow of the few lone streetlights they pass. 

And then, somehow, he finds himself pulling into the parking lot of somewhere other than the station, catching her confused look in the rear view mirror. There’s nobody else at the diner this time of night, the only building for another few miles before the small town comes into focus. A blinking, chipped beacon in the night.

“Are you hungry?” No answer, though he thinks that she presses herself back into the seat, a small shrinking. He sighs, getting out of the car and opening her door, somewhere between leaning down and hovering over her in what he hopes is a less intimidating posture.

“Just wanna talk, get the whole story from you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what all this is about.”

“Help me?” Said like it’s foreign to her, a concept she can’t even imagine. 

“You like pancakes?” She does, he discovers, with blueberries and a thick swirl of syrup. She eats like she’s getting away with something, hurried, her eyes sweeping around the diner every so often. Hunger, a deep kind, like she hasn’t had a full meal in a while. He tries not to watch her too closely, taking cursory bites of his own meal.  But his eyes get caught on the fragile flex and flick of muscle in her forearms. Elbows on the table, the fluorescent lighting shocks into focus a dark bloom of bruises running up both her arms. Half moons of pain, waning gibbous and gruesome. Like fingerprints. He pushes his plate away from himself, swallowing hard.

“You can have the rest of mine too, if you want. Or we can get you something else?” Her eyes go wide again, freezing mid-chew before she swallows with a shaky gulp, setting fork and knife down, hands tangling in a close fist in her lap, ashamed. He wishes he hadn’t said anything.

“Where are you from?” 

“Nebraska.” He’s a little surprised when she so quickly responds, though he nods, trying to school any expression from his face.

“And that’s where you’re coming from?” She nods, one palm absent-mindedly coming to curl behind her neck, her elbow resting in her hand that’s crossed over her stomach, a small defense, or at least the posture of it.

“You said that’s your husband’s car. Does he know you have his car?” 

“I imagine he has an idea by now.” 

“Does he know where you are?”

“I hope not.” She says it with a weak laugh, though her lashes stay dropped to her cheeks, not looking at him as she says it. He’s starting to feel a sick curl in his stomach, getting tangled up in something that he shouldn’t be, and he hasn’t the slightest idea why.

What he should do. What he should do is take her to the station and let someone else handle this. Someone who knows how to handle this. What he should do is let work be work, and what he should do is not get involved any further than the meal he bought for her.

“My name’s Joel.” He holds his hand out across the table, though she doesn’t take it, just works her fingers a little harder into the nape of her neck.

“I’m Dolores.” How fitting, he thinks. Our lady of sorrow, and she certainly looks every bit of it.

“May I ask what you were planning to do with a stolen car, going a hundred and ten in a sixty-five, Dolores?” She sniffs back the swim in her eyes, chin tucking up, a pantomime of conviction.

“I was getting away.”

What he should do, he doesn’t. What he does do, he shouldn’t. 

“You understand that if you keep driving that car, eventually you’re gonna get tracked down one way or another?” 

“I was gonna get rid of it once I got into Utah.”

“You got any money?”

“No.” 

“You got family in Utah?”

“No.” He almost doesn’t want to ask anymore questions, seeing the way she starts to wilt with each no, her shoulders curling in like a despondent cage. 

“So, what exactly was the plan?” He tries to ask it quiet, trying to temper his doubt, though she still winces.

“I already told you.”

“Getting away?” 

“Yes.”

“You’ve already done that. What, eight hours worth or thereabout?” She nods.

“I think you need a better plan, Dolores.” Her lips collapse in an instant frown, and he regrets the words, digging the knuckles of his fist into his thigh to keep anything else from coming out of his mouth. 

“I don’t know any more.” Like a child, like a hopeless child. Before he can respond, the waitress comes back around, filling up their coffee cups, a friendly, familiar word to him and an uncertain look to Dolores who keeps her eyes down on an invisible spot on the table. Just enough time for him to think over what he shouldn’t do. 

“Do you want my help?” 

…

When Sarah went off to college, and when Austin got to be too much, and when the work got to be too much as well, he decided he needed a change. Sold his half of the business to Tommy and used that money to buy a palmful of land. Small town, strange town, right in the curve of a mountain, just a few hours outside of Boulder. Sarah calls, and comes home for the holidays. Tommy not so much, a sour spat that has lingered between them ever since Joel left. Both of them too prideful to be the first to break, little brother that wanted more and wanted it fast, and big brother that was ready for everything to slow down and get silent.

He has enough money saved for his job at the station to be something that keeps him busy a few nights a week more than anything else. And in the meantime.

“Do you have animals?” She sits in the passenger seat now, pointing out to the dark outline of the barn and coop as they pass it.

“Got sheep, and chickens. But between you and me, I don’t care much for the chickens.” An attempt at lightness, he bites down on his own smile when he catches the small curve of her mouth in his periphery. 

Small house, sleeping house in a thick flare of brush and trees. He lets her do it on her terms, leaves the front door wide open and tries not to watch as she steps through the threshold, busying himself with linens and towels for her. Part of him is surprised that she agreed to come with him at all. But the other part of him knows why she did. It was this, or going back, and she wasn’t about to do that. 

“There’s a guest room down the hall. My daughter stays there when she visits so it shouldn’t be too bad.” She just nods, hands held loosely in front of her, quick sweeps of her eyes when he turns on a lamp, warm shadows and light. It takes her a beat to follow him down the hall, leaving a wide swath of space between them even when she steps into the room, watching him set the sheets down on the bed and flick on the light, her back pressed against the wall. 

“Bathroom is the first door on the left. And I’m upstairs if you need anything.” She still doesn’t move, only offering him another nod.

“We can go into town tomorrow. Get you some clean clothes and see about some work for you.” 

“Okay.” He doesn’t miss it, the way she takes two shuffled steps back when he moves closer, even though it’s only so he can get to the doorway. 

“Try to get some sleep.” He doesn’t think he’ll get a response from her, already making his way out of the room, but.

“Thank you, Joel.” He stops in his tracks, turning over his shoulder to look at her, though he doesn’t say anything, just a puff of breath that’s loud enough to sound like an answer before he shuts the door to her room behind him.

He shouldn’t. Shouldn’t, shouldn’t, shouldn’t. Repeats to himself what a bad idea this is with each step up the stairs to his room. He shouldn’t, but he did.

What he offered her was time. And place. Time and place for her to find a better plan for herself. Make some money, stop the shake in her limbs, unbothered and unnoticed in a quiet town like this.

The husband’s car is a problem he hasn’t worked out yet, though he has some ideas. Pop off the plates and squirrel them away, let the car get found by some other patrolman, let it be a mystery. Or just leave the car as is, abandoned on the side of the highway, and let the husband wonder where his wife ran off to in the middle of nowhere. Not a fitting punishment, he thinks, but something nonetheless. 

For now though, there’s a stranger sleeping downstairs. A stranger that he has decided to help. He has been so careful at alone. At keeping people and place at arm’s length. And tonight, he has ruined that in one maybe, probably, stupid choice. But he’s never been one to change his mind, stubborn to a fault. So he lets one more shouldn’t fizzle out in his thoughts, and then resolves himself to this reality. A stranger sleeping downstairs who he is going to help. And not really a stranger now. Her name is Dolores. An old-fashioned name, he thinks. A weeping name, a wailing name. A name that demands it be said on a sigh. He wonders if she would like a new name, if she will need a new name. A problem for later, already getting ahead of himself. 

…

She’s sitting on the couch in the living room when he comes downstairs, her legs tucked up under her, head propped in the cup of her palm, looking out the window. Part of him half-expected her to be gone. A finely threaded figment slipped through his fingers. But she’s there, and she doesn’t notice him at first. 

“Morning.” It startles her, that close curl in on herself as she finally looks at him, and he again finds himself wishing he hadn’t said anything, had just let her be in that quiet moment.

“Hi.” 

“Get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” Said from behind her palm, he’s pretty sure it isn’t honest. Dark, drooping eyes and a heavy pull in her frame, truth without telling. 

He’s not sure if he should ask, so he doesn’t. He hides a smile when she follows him anyways, out onto the front porch and toward the coop. 

“Do they have names?” Her eyes brighten when the first of the ladies strut out of the coop, dipping and bobbing their heads with self-righteous clucks and chirps. 

“No, I can barely tell who’s who.” Her brow furrows, mouth screwing to the side as she watches the chickens, already bowing beaks to the dirt to pluck fresh crawling things for their breakfast. 

“Still, they should have names.” It seems to be an absent-minded thought that happens to come out in words, her eyes still focused on the fuss and flutter of the birds as she says it.

“Well if you come up with any, let me know.” He says it halfway over his shoulder as he ducks into the coop, swallowing down how strange this is. But we are so good at reconfiguring around strange, aren’t we? Fitting strange into our lives as if it was always meant to be there. So, he collects the eggs from the coop, listening to the faint sound of what he thinks is her quietly murmuring to the chickens, though she’s quiet again when he joins her. 

Two for her and two for him, he gets no answer when he asks her how she likes her eggs, a ghost lingering in the doorway to the kitchen, like she’s surprised when he acknowledges her presence. Fried, fizzled fat around the edges, he hopes it will do, setting two plates down at the table.

“Coffee?”

“Please.” His back turned as he pours two cups, his ears prick to the sound of the chair scraping out, and then a long sigh, a settling. She waits for him to sit down before she lets her hands stray from her lap. A careful bite of her eggs, yolk splitting and spilling gold against the edge of her fork. 

“Thank you.” 

“Not a problem.” Quiet, he keeps his eyes on his plate and his mug, only quick flickers up to see that she’s doing much the same. 

“There’s a drugstore in town, and a secondhand shop. We can head in after breakfast to get you, uh, situated.” Situated, because he’s certain she’s been wearing that same tank top and jean shorts for a few days now, rumpled around the edges. 

“Okay, I’ll pay you back for it, all of it. Soon as I get some money saved. Just– just hold onto the receipts?” Question more than command, he just nods. 

It used to be a mining town, way, way back. Then it went dormant for a while, picked back up and polished over by the commune movement in the seventies, the vestiges of flower power and free love still evident in some of the older residents. Long hair and bluejeans and leather sandals and skin. But mostly, it’s quiet folk. Ranchers and farmers, the occasional dirtbag blowing through, looking to climb something he has no business climbing, wary looks passed at the prospect of a large backpack trundling down the main, and only, drag of town. Newcomers are spectacle, something Joel learned when he moved here four years ago. But the novelty is fast to wear off, everything and everyone blending together in the thin mountain air. Jobs to do and seasons to plan for, after all.

Dolores is new though, and especially unexpected walking through town with him. Eyes lingering hot on the back of his neck, he can only imagine how she’s starting to feel, a small mercy that they’re already stepping inside the secondhand shop. It smells like cedar and damp. He only comes in here when he absolutely needs a new something after something else finally wore itself out, but he knows the owner well enough.

“Patty?” 

“In the back, give me a minute!” She doesn’t take a minute, already blustering out from the back of the shop, a crooked grin when she sees him.

“Joel Miller, been a while since you’ve been in here. Did those jeans of yours finally–” Patty stops mid-sentence, mid-stride, her eyes stuttered stuck on Dolores, who looks about ready to dissolve, hands clasped across her waist like she might cave in on herself. 

“Patty, this is a friend of mine. She’s gonna be staying with me a while and needs some clothes.” Patty looks perplexed, clearly waiting for him to explain the rest, though she doesn’t press when he stays silent, her attention settling back on Dolores.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you then. I’m Patty, but you already knew that.” Surprise when Patty holds her hand out for a shake and Dolores easily reciprocates, though he supposes the terms they’re meeting on are a little less jarring than what happened last night. 

“I’m Dolores, nice to meet you.”

“Huh, you don’t hear that name too often these days.” Patty has always been something of a force, and now is no different, Joel barely getting in a low murmur that he’ll meet Dolores outside of the store when she’s finished. Patty nods absent-mindedly when he tells her to put the cost on his tab, too busy coaxing Dolores further into the store, something about jeans and sweaters for the soon to come snap of fall the last thing he hears as he steps outside. 

…

“Is Sarah visiting soon?” Joel pauses in placing the items on the checkout counter, at first confused by Rod’s question. But then he realizes that yes, this haul looks much like what he picks up when his daughter comes to visit. Toothbrush and toothpaste, because she always manages to forget them, and feminine products that he’s been buying long enough for her that he doesn’t feel the least bit bashful about putting them in his basket. His best guess for what Dolores might need. This time, not for Sarah.

“Uh, no, no. Just have a friend staying with me for a while.” He knows that everyone in town is going to run with the word friend. In his mid-forties, he’s one of the youngest members of the community, and there’s been plenty of times when one of his well-meaning neighbors has tried to set him up with their daughter who’s just visiting, but it could be more than just visiting, you know. Yeah, right. He prefers the coyotes. 

Rod finishes ringing him up, a nod and another comment about the oncoming fall that Joel agrees with, friendly enough, always speaking in terms of seasons out here. For now though, the mid-day sun is still unforgiving, burning the tips of his ears as he sits down on the bench outside the secondhand shop. A few people pass, all greeting him by name, and he does the same. It’s easy in a town like this, not too many to remember anyways. 

Eventually, Dolores comes out with a thick stack of folded clothes in her arms, a pair of worn-looking work boots settled on top. 

“All set?” 

“Yeah, thank you.” 

“I think I did okay at the drugstore, just let me know if you need anything else.” He rests the brown paper bag on his hip, stepping into stride beside her as they walk back to his car, reminding him of that mistake he needs to set right.

“Gotta get this car back to the station and pick up my truck. We’ll stop there on the way back.” She stiffens and stops instantly, her shoulders hiking up high and hackled as she frowns at him, making no move to get into the car now.

“That’s not– not like that. You can wait in the truck, I just have to go in for a minute, okay?” Cagey, a broken bird getting ready to attempt lift-off. He feels himself holding his breath for her response. It doesn’t come in words, another nod as she ducks into the passenger seat, her bundle of clothes settling in her lap, palms smoothing over fabric again and again and again. 

The thought occurs to him again as they drive toward the station. What the fuck is he doing? This jagged woman, all skittish and sharp around her worn-away edges. Though not much time to consider it as they pull into the lot, a new problem presenting itself.

“You go wait in the truck, alright? Don’t worry about this.” She scoffs, a broken piece of a laugh in the back of her throat as her eyes stay trained on the tow in the station’s lot, her husband’s car still hooked to its cable. He doesn’t give her time to question it, just nestles his truck’s keys on top of her pile of clothes and reaches across her to open her door, mindful to keep plenty of space between his arm and her. Wordlessly, she acquiesces, shuffling over to the truck Joel had jerked his head toward. 

“Morning, Miller.”

“Morning, what’s going on out there?” John sighs behind a swig of coffee, leaning against the front desk in the office of the station. Big man, amicable man, lived in this town his whole life, wife and two kids still in elementary school that they have to ride the bus a half hour to get to. He was who offered Joel this job about a year after he moved to town, something about not minding an extra pair of hands and eyes on the team.

“Someone reported an abandoned car on the side of the interstate early this morning. Just ran the plates, turns out it was called in stolen in Lincoln, Nebraska two days ago.” A longer than eight hour drive, he thinks, though he keeps his face unmoving, just a hum of acknowledgement to what John tells him. 

“Well that’s something else.”

“That isn’t all. Apparently, the guy is pretty sure it was his wife who stole it, because she went missing the same day. If you ask me, a woman’s gotta have a real good reason to just pick up and run away like that.” That sick feeling starts to slurry in his stomach again, though he tamps it down with a hard clear of his throat. 

“It’s quite the story, John. But where’s the wife then?”

“That’s the thing. The car was abandoned, not a sign of anyone around. All we found inside was a ratty-looking book in the passenger’s seat.” 

“Huh.” He glances back out into the lot over his shoulder, rubbing at the back of his neck like he’s still thinking through what John just told him. What he’s really doing is checking on Dolores, still in the passenger’s seat of his truck, worrying at her thumbnail between her teeth. 

“Anyways, if you see a lost-looking woman wandering around, bring her in. Though I reckon she’s long gone by now, God bless her.” Joel nods, talking numbly through all the requisite things he must, shifts and schedules, relief in his ringing ears when he steps back outside into the hard bake of the sun. He takes one more look at the tow from over the hood of his car, a shake of his head, a sigh, a conclusion, and then the slam of his car door.

…

“Can I help?” He nearly drops the pail of water he was carrying she startles him so bad. All cleaned up, in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved shirt, already fitting into the landscape, squinting at him through the late-afternoon glare. 

“If you want, you can grab that other pail and come help me top up their water.” A little unsteady with the slosh of it, she still manages just fine, following him out into the pasture, the flock already nosing closer to their water troughs. 

“Are they all girls?” Something like wonder laces through her question, taking a tentative step closer to one of the sheep, too domestic for Joel’s taste, though Dolores just laughs when the animal noses at her open palm.

“There’s two rams, they’re always a little late to the party, but you can just see them over that hill. The one on the left is Casper, and the one on the right is Lloyd.” 

“So you can tell your sheep apart, but not your chickens?” That’s new, a crackle to her words that makes him laugh as he finishes filling the water trough. But she’s still focused on the lady who is now demanding her full attention, snuffling at the hem of her shirt as she scratches between her ears. 

“Does this girl have a name?” 

“That’s Avril. My, uh, my daughter named her when I first got her.” She smiles, a little laugh when the sheep starts to jaw at the fabric of her shirt.

“Like that pop singer?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. She was a big fan as a teen.”

“My little sister was too.” Her face falls the instant the words leave her mouth, the bitter flavor of the past turning her quiet all over again. Another piece that he tucks away somewhere in his mind, still quick to change the subject, to keep her in the present.

“Forgot to mention, I talked with Sal in town– he owns that diner. Said he was looking for a new waitress to work day shifts. I know it ain’t much but–”

“No, that’s– anything is good, perfect.” The sheep is starting to pull at the bottom of her shirt, Dolores too polite to do anything more than pat her lightly on the head, a small sound of protest when the fabric starts to get rucked up her stomach by the animal’s continued mouthing. 

“You know better than that, c’mon now, get.” He gives the sheep a gentle shove, earning himself a dejected bleat, though she finally gives up Dolores’ shirt, joining the rest of the flock in their huddle around the trough. For her part, Dolores doesn’t take two steps back to his two steps closer. For his part, Joel tries not to pay too much attention to this fact.

“So, should I go talk to Sal tomorrow?” He has to resist the urge to reach out and smooth the crumpled hem of her shirt, settling for stuffing his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. 

“Yeah, I’ll take you over there tomorrow morning, if that’s alright with you?” 

“Mmhmm, uh, yeah, thank you.” She seems to be holding words back beneath the pinch of her brow and the tight frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. Joel waits, watching her rub her palms down the front of her jeans, like a little quick heat will coax more voice out. Finally, she lets out a breath that clips itself like a laugh, shaking her head.

“Sorry, I guess I’m waiting.”

“Waiting?” 

“Yeah, you know, like, for the catch?” She says it squinting, her arms crossed over her chest, bottom lip pulled between her teeth when she finishes.

“I– that’s not– there’s no catch. You seem like you need some help, and, well, I can.” Help, still a word she’s not familiar with, something falling in her face when he says it. 

This woman who is a stranger to help. This woman who is still a stranger to him, if he’s being honest. What he knows, she has a little sister. What he knows, the bruises painted dark and dull along her arms make him sick with the want to do something for her. What he knows, the small slip of delight that slackens her frown as she watches the sheep nudge and nuzzle against each other makes him giddy with the want to do something for her. 

Stranger or not, help, because he can. Care, because he can.

...........................

taglist (lmk if you want added or dropped) : @casssiopeia @eleganthottubfun @anoverwhelmingdin @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @suzmagine @syakhairi @spookyxsam @northernbluess @hier--soir @darkroastjoel @wannab-urs @tieronecrush @beskarandblasters @trulybetty @softlyspector

[sallymareeq]

Under the Willow Tree

⚠️18+ [Minors DNI]⚠️

Summary:

"He moved a hand to your face, caressing your smooth cheek, and in that moment the world disappeared." A picnic under the willow tree with your "best friend" Todd. sappy lovey romantic poetic smut ok this will def become a series

Notes:

reader can be any race and weight as long as they are not bald :) comments are highly appreciated

It had been a year since the Welton Henley Hall merge and you had been living on the new west wing of the ‘strictly girls’ boarding houses for a while. Through classes you had finally made friends with boys you found respectable. You had your little group, Neil, Knox, Poppy, Charlie, Meeks and Pitts, Cameron, you and Todd.

You and Poppy had been the first to join Mr Keatings english class and she, being the extrovert she is, immediately connected with the horniest boy in the room, Dalton. Through being dragged along on awkward dates you did get to know Charlie and thankfully also his wingman Neil. Through Neil and Charlie you were introduced to the rest of the poets.

You began forming a connection with all of them, helping Neil rehearse for his plays because you loved to watch him act, working on a radio with Meeks and Pitts, going on walks with Knox to pick flowers, and getting study tips from Cameron.

But the time you cherished the most was the time you spent reading and writing and talking with Todd. Todd, like you, had a shy exterior, you had to be introduced by friends and at first your conversations were awkward and stilted, punctuated by furtive glances and blushed cheeks but eventually you just clicked. Todd soon became your best friend and you each saw a side of each other no one else had.

Late afternoons you would read Whitman under a willow tree in a hidden patch of the forest, sometimes Todd would get up and start dancing and laughing as he read, grabbing you by the hands to spin you around until you both tumbled over. One of Todd's favorite activities though was listening to you sing. Once he found out you could, he spent a week begging you to sing him something, even a little, until you finally agreed, under the condition that you got to play with his smooth, dirty blonde hair.

You had always wondered what it felt like, it always looked so soft and clean. So one warm Saturday afternoon, sitting on a blanket under the willow, Todd slowly lay his head in your skirt as you began to sing. An old gospel song you had learnt in sunday school, years ago,

As I went down in the river to pray Studying about that good old way And who shall wear the robe and crown Good Lord, show me the way.

Todds eyelashes fluttered shut as you ran your fingers back through his hair, reveling in its softness,

O brothers let's go down Let's go down, come on down Come on brothers let's go down Down in the river to pray

A soft smile crossed his rosy lips and you began to notice the light dusting of freckles against his alabaster skin.

As I went down in the river to pray Studying about that good old way And who shall wear the starry crown Good Lord, show me the way.

You stopped singing as Todd sat up, twisting so you faces were inches apart, his hair was messy, his lips slightly parted and his blue eyes were clouded with love. His hands were either side of you against the tree in an almost protective position and in a slow, dream-like trance you raised your hand to feel his cheek with your thumb. His skin was soft and warm and connecting to it like this stirred something inside you. He continued to breathe, staring longingly into your eyes as you moved your fingers across to his lips, so soft and inviting, his warm breath brushing your fingers. He moved a hand to your face, caressing your smooth cheek, and in that moment the world disappeared. You saw, as if from a bird's-eye view, two young lovers under a willow tree, body’s so close they shared the same air. A boy with his blue sweater, unbuttoned collar peeking out the top and khaki pants. A girl, her hair tied with a bow, wearing the boy's oversized cable knit sweater and a small skirt. You watched for a moment, admiring how perfect they looked together until you heard, or rather felt your name whispered against your lips.

‘Y/N’ the poet breathed ‘can i’ he glanced down at your rosy lips ‘may i kiss you?’

Your lips met fully as you fell into his warmth, he tasted like sunset and home. You lifted your chin as he pulled you in, gently placing a hand on the small of your back, pressing you as close as possible. You arched into him as you deepened the kiss longing to feel more of him, your hands moving from his warm chest to his soft hair. It felt like flying, kissing Todd Anderson, so gentle and yet so firm, so sweet and so lustful, a dance in perfect time. You broke the kiss, only to catch your breath and Todd rested his forehead against yours breathing, his now glossy lips revealing a row of perfect white teeth.

‘Wow’ he sighed

‘Wow’ you looked into his adoring eyes.

And as Todd opened his mouth to speak again a sudden need rushed through your body and you kissed him passionately. He was taken aback for a moment but quickly tightened his grip on your waist, holding your body's flush, together you rose to your knees as you leaned back into his hands. Todd kissed you hungrily, in a way you couldn't expect from him, and as your tongues met you felt yourself grow increasingly aroused at the closeness.

Todd slowly began kissing down your jaw to your neck eliciting soft moans as you began to tug at the hem of his sweater. He leaned back and removed it with a cat-like grin that you had never seen before but that made you want him more than possible. You lifted your arms as he removed your (well his) sweater and began feverishly unbuttoning your tight, white tshirt. His long fingers made quick work of your shirt as he pushed it down your shoulders, still kissing you hotly. He leaned back, hands on your waist, to admire your flawless skin. He ran a light hand over your collar bone as you melted to his touch, his hand traveled down your side, carefully avoiding your breast, to your stomach where he rubbed his thumb over the skin. He looked up at you through his long lashes then down at your low cut, blue floral bra, and more importantly your soft round breasts.

He glanced up again questioningly,

‘Please Todd’ you whispered ‘Touch me’

That confirmation was all he needed to cup his large hand around one of your breasts, kneading it softly and groaning at the feeling. He moved his head down toward them and glanced up a final time before his wet mouth connected with the skin covering your sternum. Slowly he traveled down your cleavage before moving to your left breast leaving small love bites in his wake. You hummed in pleasure as he pulled away the fabric, his hot breath hitting your exposed nipple. He sucked it into his mouth, tongue circling the sensitive skin causing you to whine breathily. Once he was satisfied with the left he moved on to the right still groping the left as he did. Once he had you leaning back on your arms, squirming and moaning his name he pulled away, you whined at the loss of connection until you saw him begin to unbutton his white shirt. You sat up staring longingly as more of his pale, lightly freckled chest was revealed, his muscles were taught and clearly visible, he looked as if he was carved from stone and as he shrugged off his shirt you felt your mouth begin to water. You sat up fully, holding him by the shoulders, cheeks touching as you breathed in his scent, distinctly masculine, like freshly washed sheets or a newly opened book, it filled your chest and stomach and back as you shut your eyes and basked in it. You moved together, not kissing, but breathing, feeling the pull of each other's energy.

You ran your hands down his freckled shoulders observing the rise and fall of his muscles, down his forearms covered in light blonde hairs, to his hands, silky and veined. You brought his hand to your mouth kissing the pads of his fingers and slowly inviting his pointer and middle into your mouth, you licked and sucked sensuously as he stared at the lustful sight. Drawing back, you licked saliva from your lips and continued your exploration. As you began kissing down his chest, feeling his warm skin you caught a glimpse of his bulge, straining against the front of his pants. He lowered himself onto his elbows as you savoured the feeling of his abs on your lips, you felt his hand brush through your hair to your cheek as he lifted your face and looked lovingly into your eyes.

‘hey, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to right?’ Todd said earnestly

“Little you know” you began to quote as you sensually crawled up his body, ‘the subtle electric fire for your sake playing within me.’ you finished with a soft kiss to his lips.

‘Whitman’ He smiled

‘i fear i am in love’ you mused

‘And i quite the same’ he whispered hot against your lips ‘O to draw you to me, O to be yielded to you, coming naked to me at night,'

'And you to be yielded to me, in defiance of the world’ he spoke as if kissing, moving and breathing and teasing.

‘Your body to me is sweet, clean, loving, strong,’ you spoke kissing his jaw

‘Your eyes are more to me than poems,’ you began traveling back down his neck

‘Your lips do better than play music,’ down his hot chest

‘The lines of your cheeks, the lashes of your eyes, are eloquent to me,’ over the hills and valleys of his toned abdomen

‘This face is flavor’d fruit ready for eating.’ you unbuttoned his trousers

‘You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh,’ unzipping them slowly

‘You take of my hair, breast, hands, in return,’ kissing his hip bones

‘Our flesh, and even a part of our flesh,’you lock eyes with the sandy haired poet, light eyes now dark with lust,

‘seems more than senses and life.’ he finishes for you as you remove his trousers and boxers in one fluid motion, freeing his throbbing member.

Todd sucked in a breath, cock twitching at the sudden cold as it sprung from his boxers. You stared in awe at his glistening member, already dripping with precum, it was large, more than 6 inches, and erect. You looked up at him unsure.

‘I have never done this before’

‘Its ok’ Todd assured ‘I'll tell you what feels good and what doesn't’

And you trusted him to do so.

You leaned forward, taking the tip into your mouth as you tasted him, warm and slightly salty, but knowing it was Todds made it taste like lust. You lowered, taking as much into your mouth as you could, Todd hummed with pleasure and let out a low moan when you felt the tip hit the back of your throat.

‘Mm yes, perfect’

His praise swallowed you whole as you began acting on instinct, taking what couldn’t fit into your mouth in hand, you began to bob your head up and down, slowly hitting the back of your throat every time. Your mouth filled with saliva and precum, dripping out onto your chin. Todd lovingly used his free arm to hold back your hair as you worked. His head fell back as he continued to groan and whisper your name like a prayer. You felt him guide your head faster and you swirled your tongue slightly causing his hips to buck. This involuntary show of desire caused you to moan around his cock, sending vibration through his body, his lips came together to stifle a moan and he whispered breathlessly.

‘Fuck Y/N im getting close, should i-’

But his words were cut off by a long, drawn out ‘fuck-’ as you took his entire length into your hot, wet mouth. He gripped your hair tightly and you felt his cock twitch as hot salty liquid shot down your throat, you swallowed as much as you could, longing to be filled with his love, and as you pulled back, come and spit dripping from your chin to your breasts, he stared, open mouthed.

‘If I am to have so much, let me have more, Drunken and crazy with love, swing in its plummetless sea.’ he recited

You bashfully wiped your mouth as you sat back on your heels.

‘Oh my- that was perfect’ Todd spoke

His eyes scanned your body

‘i have never bared witness to something so breathtakingly beautiful’ he started, holding you with a loving gentleness, ‘so sweet, so lovely’ he smiled as he began to lay you down,’so kind and fulfilling’ he removed your skirt exposing your matching floral panties, now soaked, ‘and sensual’ he mouthed at your navel, ‘something i want’ he breathed pressing a kiss to your hip bone, ‘something i need’ kissing the other, he moved to face your hot core, leaving wet kisses up your thighs ‘bid away matters of the mind, and think only with your heart’ Your head falls back, mouth open wide as you arch into the feeling of Todd's wet tongue running over your panties, but before you can moan out his name he captures your lips in a wet, sensuous kiss, the friction of his tongue being replaced by his long, capable fingers. He hooks his fingers under the waist of the garment and looks to you for permission before slowly pulling them down.

‘I have never done this before either’ Todd admitted as he leaned forward to kiss you

‘I trust you Todd’ you felt him grow harder at your words.

With newfound confidence he tentatively swiped two fingers through your folds, stopping when he felt you shudder at contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves. He quickly glanced back up at you,

‘Good or bad?’ he questioned,

‘Good… really good’ you breathed as he began to circle your clit.

You stared lovingly into his face as he slowly widened his circles until he stopped at your entrance,

‘Todd’ you said softly,

‘Hm?’ he looked up at you in that Todd way, mouth slightly open, blue eyes innocently questioning, dirty blond hair parted to one side.

‘Im a virgin’ you breathed against his lips,

The thought had never crossed your mind since you came to Welton, Poppy had always talked about sex and how great Charlie was in bed but you had never met anyone you thought you could trust with your body, so open and vulnerable, until you met Todd. With him everything just felt so right, a perfect boy, a handsome man, a lover.

‘I want you to be the one’ you whispered,

He kissed you softly, much slower than before but something felt different, like he had transferred part of his soul with that kiss and just as slowly and with as much care, he pressed his warm finger into you. You both shut your eyes, enjoying the sensation, he groaned at the feeling of you clenching around his long nimble finger, growing almost unbearably hard. You moaned loudly as he curled his finger hitting a spot that sent a rush through you.

‘Please Todd- Please’ you whined biting your lip

‘Please what petal, please what?’ Todd urged, eager to please

‘Faster’ you panted.

Todd was a fast learner as he soon found a pace that had you heaving for breath and begging for more all at once, he slowed slightly but before you could complain he added a second finger, pumping them into your throbbing core.

You bit your lip as a mix of pain and pleasure rocked through your body

‘Is that o-’ you swallowed Todd's question in a kiss that neither of you could ever forget, hot and wet and sweet, your tongues working in harmony, both of you making obscene noises as you felt the knot in your stomach grow tighter.

‘Todd i need you’

‘Im here, i'm here whatever you need’ he breathed still pumping in and out of you

‘I need all of you please’ you whined needily.

‘Ok’ he removed his fingers from your warmth and smoothed your lust onto his already hardened cock.

Kneeling in front of you he teased your entrance with his tip as you gazed dreamily up at his figure, the gold afternoon sun peaking through the branches left his pale skin gleaming with sweat. He looked down at you, laying sprawled on the blanket, had it been only this morning you considered each other friends, no, you had been much more from the moment your eyes met. Love. love was the only word to describe how you felt as Todd leaned his forehead against yours and slowly, slowly pressed his way inside of you. The world disappeared inch by inch as his length filled you up, you felt no pain this time, only an all-encompassing sense of wholeness. Your thoughts, feelings, memories became one as he slowly began thrusting into you, nuzzling into your soft hair and breathing heavily. It was just the two of you, breathing and moaning as you moved closer toward a shared bliss. You sucked at his neck, nibbling on a spot behind his ear that made him let out an almost whimper. He raised the hand that wasn't supporting him to your neck, not to choke but to feel your pulse. The feeling of his strong, smooth hand at your neck sent you reeling as you whispered his name frantically.

‘yes, Todd, Please, I love you, i love you, fuck, fuck’

With every thrust he lightly kissed your face, your cheeks, nose, eyelids, running his fingers through your hair. This moment was nothing like how Poppy had described it, not hot and dirty and rough and loud and forbidden, it was warm and sweet and kind and lovely and true. A moment of connection between two fated souls, under the shade of a willow tree.

The feeling was beyond words, beyond feeling, it was poetic. The passion in his movements pushed you to the edge of what you knew to be true, staring into his deep blue eyes, you knew you were close, you both knew. His movements slowed, becoming more sloppy as you both teetered on the edge of release. Your lips connected as you felt a wave of pleasure crash over you both, the feeling so great you moaned into each other's mouths. You rode out your orgasms, panting between kisses, Todds face buried in your neck. He rolled onto his back and you snuggled into his warm chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“I would quote whitman but right now i can only think of you” he sighed

You giggled as you passed him his pants.

He redressed clumsily as you gathered your clothes and jumpers.

You sat together talking quietly as he buttoned your shirt and you fixed up his hair.

“You're so good to me Todd” you smiled as he fixed your collar.

‘Well i just love you’ he said so casually he even took himself by surprise,

‘Where ever did I find you’ you shook your head smiling contently.

You lay with your head in his lap this time, reading Whitman while he picked the surrounding wildflowers, as you put the book down Todd blushed, he had made you a flower crown. You sat up and turned so he could place it on your head.

He smiled ‘you look like a woodland nymph’

You picked a small white flower- a spring beauty- and stuck it in his still slightly messy hair.

‘You're so very pretty Todd’

As the sun grew orange in the sky you began making your way back to the courtyard, probably looking like a pair of strays, hair full of flowers and clothes a mess, holding hands and smiling blissfully.