#you are the centerpiece of what works for you

[uncanny-tranny]

Something that made hygiene-related things easier to do was to say "fuck it" to the concept of doing the thing at the Right time. My teeth do not understand that it is currently 02:00 or 15:00 and they're getting brushed. The skin on my face doesn't hold up a timepiece and say, "why haven't you washed me, twelve hours have elapsed and you haven't bothered to wash me!".

As someone who has had very intense experiences with my ability to do things at the Right time, throwing out those rules has been a game-changer. I used to shame myself because I didn't do something at the Right Time, so I just didn't do it, which would make me feel even worse. That's not a healthy way to go about anything. Accommodate for yourself. Throw out those rules.

[akkivee]

one of hifumi’s patrons was a fashion designer who asked him and the rest of mtr to model for her fashion show but in doppo and jakurai’s absence, wound up recruiting kuukou and saburo along the way but look what she made our boy wear lmao

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

It would be weird if I crossed the road and transformed into a large breeding bull barely fit for a cow.

[fionnaskyborn]

and TODAY ON "Songs Fionna can't listen to without them fucking her up immensely and remind her why she doesn't listen to them very often every time she listens to them", we have:

[ohproserpine]

viii. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, alastor tweaking, VERY heavy warning for violence and blood, overdose, murder, DEATH, hunting, VERY graphic descriptions of injuries, vox being painfully obvious, vox malfunctions (lmao L), drowning, flooding, mentions of glass piercing skin, a gun, threats of death, valentino warning, alastor's demon form

Alastor's head snapped to the side, with a sickening crack accompanying the movement

"Show me," he snarled, his voice taking on an inhuman quality, heavily filtered by radio waves.

Without hesitation, Angel gestured towards the billboard, his expression blank.

"Get in there, and see for ya'self."

.

A few blocks away, at the Vox Tower.

The heavy door before you swung open to reveal a diner. Chandeliers hung from the lofty ceiling, the crystals casting shattered reflections of light across the expanse of golden tables below. The centerpiece of the room was an expansive aquarium, its transparent walls housing sleek, metallic sharks that glided gracefully through the rose-tinted waters.

Vox guided you inside with a hand on your back, leading you towards a secluded booth. He was dressed in a neat, crisp royal blue suit, perfectly matching the attire chosen for you by Velvette. She had dressed you in a stunning cerulean silk dress that hugged your figure in all the right places. The fabric flowed gracefully as you moved, the long skirt sweeping across the floor with every step of your white heels.

"I didn't realize there was a restaurant tucked away in here," you whispered, your eyes widening in awe as you took in the glowing ambiance of the place.

"Well, we at VoxTek are full of surprises, my dear," Vox chuckled smoothly as he moved to pull back the chair at your table. "It's quite a diverse company."

"I see," you murmured, a sense of intrigue coloring your tone. Taking a step closer, you sank into the plush seat, a soft hum of contentment escaping your lips as you settled in. Vox pushed you in before taking his seat across from you. With a snap of his finger, he gestured for a nearby waiter to approach.

Once the menus were presented, Vox glanced over at you expectantly. "Feel free to order whatever you'd like, my dear. Consider it a treat for all your hard work." A waiter slid over a tablet for the bill, and Vox pulled out a sleek black card which he quickly swiped. "Take your time. We have all night to go over your contract."

Grateful for the gesture, you returned a smile before turning your attention to the menu, scanning the options while Vox took a sip from his glass of wine, the scarlet liquid swirling.

Before the moment could continue, however, a sudden wave of static crackled through the room, causing the tables to tremble, drinks spilling and tabletop decor tumbling aside as the lights flickered erratically. Startled, Vox choked on his drink, coughing as he accidentally spilled it on himself.

You looked around in worry, confusion furrowing your brow as you whipped your head around to assess the situation. A few of the patrons were talking amongst themselves in hushed tones, their concern mirroring your own.

"What was that…?" you asked, your voice barely audible above the din of the lingering static.

"Second fucking time," Vox grumbled under his breath as he attempted to wipe the wine off his crisp white dress shirt, but his efforts only seemed to smear the stain further across his chest. The crimson stain stark against the pristine fabric made it look as if he was just mauled.

With a resigned sigh, he abandoned his futile efforts and without a care in the world, tossed the soiled tablecloth back onto the table. Despite the mishap, he flashed you a reassuring smile.

"I'm sure it was nothing, my dear. Just a temporary glitch in the system. I'll have my workers look into it later," he said, waving it off.

Vox clapped his hands with a sharp, authoritative gesture, summoning a few waiters to swiftly clean up your table and retrieve the menus from your hands. They rushed over with a sense of urgency, their movements swift as they began tidying up the contents, the clatter of plates and silverware echoing through the air.

Meanwhile, a tall, slim blonde receptionist approached, her steps slow as she made her way towards Vox. Her slender fingers pushed her slim red glasses up on the bridge of her nose, accentuating the sharpness of her eyes as she addressed you both with a polite nod of her head.

"Mister Vox," she began, tapping a pen along her clipboard. "I have a few tables available for you upstairs. Would you like to transfer while we get the ground floor cleaned up?"

"Do that for us, will you?" Vox nodded, standing from the table with a sigh you couldn’t hear but could see in the slump of his shoulders. Straightening up, he brushed invisible dust off the front of his jacket and suit pants with swift, agitated motions.

"This day has been nothing but shit to me. The hell even was that?" Vox muttered under his breath as he glanced down at his watch, a luxurious 10-million soul bucks carat model he had allowed himself to purchase a few moons ago. "Alright. Time is ticking. Let's not waste any more time and move somewhere else, love."

With a nod, you followed suit and stood up, mirroring his movements as you prepared to leave the table. But before you could take a step, another round of static swept through the room, much stronger this time. The vibrations pulsed through the floor, causing you to stumble and grasp onto the table for support. The lights flickered and dimmed before abruptly going out, enveloping the room in darkness.

"What the fuck?" Vox snarled, the glow of his screen casting eerie shadows in the darkened environment as he turned sharply to the receptionist, the faint illumination of his face acting as a temporary flashlight.

"Get this checked out, will you?" Vox hissed.

"Of course, Mister Vox," the receptionist nodded briskly, maintaining her composure despite the chaos unfolding around her. Her pen scratched against the paper as she made a note of his request. "I'll have someone look into it right away."

"Satan. Alright, come on, doll," Vox called for you and slipped his hand into yours, interlocking them together with a firm grip. Reluctantly, you accepted his hand, feeling a sense of unease creeping over you as you followed him towards the staircase.

Together, you ascended the steps, the lingering sensation of static still hanging heavily in the air like an ominous fog. Another wave swept through the atmosphere, causing your skin to tingle with prickles and sending a shiver coursing up your spine.

Something was off.

The second floor was eerily quiet, devoid of the bustling activity in the ground floor. The subdued murmurs of the remaining patrons echoed faintly against the walls. You noticed that some of the only patrons left were already making their way down the stairs, their hurried footsteps punctuating the hushed atmosphere as they descended the glass steps.

As you scanned the area, your eyes landed on a TV perched high on the wall. Whatever show had been playing before was now reduced to nothing but static and glitches, its wires crackling with electricity like an angry serpent. Thin wisps of smoke curled up from the tangled mess.

"Doll?" Vox turned his head, catching your wandering eyes with a knowing look.

"I apologize for all this trouble, my dear, but worry not, everything will be handled in a jiffy," he reassured you, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your skin as he guided you by the railings.

Leaning his elbows against the metal, he took your hand into both of his, kneading and caressing it as he grumbled to himself. "If I knew this was going to happen, I would have taken you out another night."

"Well, there's no way you could have seen that coming," you muttered as you turned your gaze towards the ground floor. Below, various demons and imps scurried around, attempting to manage the chaos. With a shrug, you moved to lean against the railings, the cool metal soothing against your skin.

Resting your cheek on your free hand, you continued, "I mean, there's always another day. We can even hash out the contract right now."

At your words, Vox visibly deflated, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he cast you a dry look. "Always so professional, are you?"

"Yes?" you replied with a nod, tilting your head in genuine curiosity. "Is that bad?"

"No, not at all," Vox huffed, a barely concealed smile playing at the corners of his lips as he pulled you closer to him. "It's actually quite charming."

With a yelp, you stumbled into his arms, your hands pressing against his chest for balance. Vox leaned in further, his left hand coming to rest on your back, his touch gentle yet firm as he looked deep into your eyes.

"But would it be bad to say I wanted something more?" he murmured, a pinkish gradient tint glowing softly on his screen, casting a warm and inviting glow across his features.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden intimacy. "Something more?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze softened, his thumb gently tracing the curve of your cheek, his touch tender against your skin.

"Yes, my dear," he murmured, trailing his thumb down to press and part your lips. "Something… personal."

"I-I don't really get what you're telling me," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest. As Vox leaned in closer and closer, you found yourself backing away until you could no longer retreat, your back arching dangerously over the railings.

"Then perhaps it's best if I show you," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Popping the lid open, a familiar golden band sat inside, glimmering softly in the dim light of the room. Your eyes widened with recognition, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"My ring," you gasped, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached out to pluck the precious jewelry from its box. However, your hand halted in midair as you noticed an unfamiliar engraving gleaming on its honey-colored surface. A wavy symbol was etched onto it, its silver detailing standing out against the smooth gold of the ring.

"Vox, what's… what's this?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted back and forth between the two sights. You could feel a hot fire starting to coil in your gut, your skin already slowly cracking. "What'd you do?"

Vox's expression remained impassive for a moment before softening with a touch of vulnerability. "It's a symbol, my dear," he explained, his voice gentle as he slowly took your hand and raised it to his lips. "A symbol of our… partnership."

"Partnership?" you echoed, your eyes tracing the movement of his lips as he pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers.

"You'd make a good wife," he blurted out, catching you off guard. Your gaze shot up to meet his, wide with surprise, as his declaration hung in the air between you. "I could provide for you. I could make you happy. Give you anything, anything you want."

A clawed hand, its digits tipped with sharp, pointed nails, delicately plucked the ring out of its velvet cushion. Taking your hand in his, he gently slipped the ring onto your finger, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could even process what had just happened, a wave of static washed over the room, crackling through the air like tiny bolts of lightning, causing him to curse under his breath.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he growled.

The room trembled again as another wave of static hit, this time with greater intensity than any of the past waves. The floors shook beneath your feet, the building groaned in protest, and you stumbled forward with a gasp, your knees buckling under the force of the tremors. Desperately, you reached out to grab onto Vox for support, clinging to him as the world seemed to tilt and sway around you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the receptionist stumbling toward you both. Her calm demeanor had vanished, replaced by frantic movements and panic in her voice.

"Sir, sir!" she huffed, her words punctuated by labored breaths as she stumbled to her feet. Her hair was disheveled, and her clothes were torn. "The building is under attack!"

"Attack?" Vox scoffed out in disbelief, his shoulders shaking from his laughter. "Who in Lucifer's name would even think of crossing me?"

The receptionist shook her head vigorously, her eyes wide with terror, strands of her disheveled hair clinging to her sweaty forehead.

"The radio demon," she rasped out, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with fear.

You froze, your hands shaking as they moved to cover your gaping mouth. Another wave of static shook the building, but your thoughts were scattered, unable to focus amidst the chaos.

Vox's grip tightened on you and the handle of the railings, his claws raking against the metal with a sharp scrape. His expression slowly shifted, the laughter fading as a dangerous seriousness settled over him. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes briefly before looking back at the receptionist with a dark glint in his eyes, a storm brewing within him.

"What did you just say?"

Before a response could be made, an explosion thundered through the floor, sending debris and dust swirling through the air. In shock, you watched as tendrils of inky shadows began to writhe and thrash, lashing out and slamming into the walls with bone-shaking force.

A particularly powerful tendril crashed against the aquarium, its force shattering the glass and unleashing a deluge of water that flooded down through the ground floor, drowning the patrons below. The sharks were caught in the torrent, their powerful bodies tossed and thrashed about as they were swept away.

Another tendril snaked its way through the dust, wrapping around the receptionist with a vice-like grip before flinging her high into the air like a ragdoll. The desperate cries of the poor woman echoed through the room before abruptly falling silent as she slammed into a wall with a sickening thud.

"Fuck—" Vox cursed, pulling you into him. His arms tightened around you protectively as he scanned the scene, his eyes darting around in search of any functioning piece of technology that could offer an escape and allow him to teleport you both out. However, his efforts proved futile; every piece of tech in the room was malfunctioning, either from the rampant waves of static or the overflow of water from the shattered aquarium.

Creak.

Suddenly, there was a deafening sound, cutting through the air and the chandelier above you both began to tilt dangerously, its crystals catching the flickering light before it started falling. Vox's curses mingled with the din as he swiftly scooped you into his arms, his muscles straining under the weight as he sprinted away just in the nick of time. With a thunderous crash, the chandelier came hurtling down, shattering into a thousand glittering fragments upon impact with the floor.

The glass shrapnel, propelled by the force of the chandelier's collapse, began to ricochet in your direction. Reacting swiftly, Vox made a split-second decision and hurled you over the railing and onto the ground floor. Screaming, you landed with a thud, the shallow water from the shattered aquarium splashing around you, soaking your dress and sending a shiver down your spine. However, Vox's own descent was less fortunate. As he jumped to follow, a few sharp glass shards found their mark, piercing his metallic body, tearing through his frame, and exposing the wires beneath.

"Ah…" Pushing yourself off the floor, you grappled with a moment of hazy confusion before a shock of fiery pain shot up your leg, so intense that your body instinctively recoiled, nails clawing at the flooded floors. A scream threatened to escape your lips, but you bit it back, your breath catching in your throat. Your eyes blinked rapidly against the pain, struggling to adjust to the darkness surrounding you.

Everything blurred together in a mess of shadows and rushing water. Your breaths grew heavy and frantic, your heart pounding in your chest as you began to shake from the sheer intensity of the pain.

"Doll—!" Vox's voice crackled through the darkness, his form glitching and sparking from the water that seeped into his exposed circuits. Before his outstretched hand could reach you, shadowed tendrils snaked around him, yanking him away with a jolt and tossing him aside, sending him skidding into a nearby column.

You watched in horror, the dim light reflecting off the wet floor and casting eerie shadows on your face. Just then, the tendrils, like twisted serpents, slithered towards you, causing you to shut your eyes tight, bracing for the impending danger.

Time seemed to stand still as you lay there, your breaths shallow and rapid, every nerve on edge.

Still, nothing happened.

Slowly, cautiously, you dared to open your eyes, your vision blurred. As your sight cleared, you found yourself face to face with a familiar shadow.

"William?" you croaked out, your voice raspy from the exertion. William, Alastor's loyal shadow, perked up eagerly at the sound of your voice, its form undulating as it slithered around you, enveloping you in a gentle embrace.

With a weak smile, you raised a trembling hand to pat at the comforting darkness. "Hey, buddy…"

Your attention was abruptly torn away as a red blur darted towards the spot where Vox had been slammed into. Shock seized you, freezing you in place as you watched with wide eyes, feeling your pulse pounding against your chest and skull in a frantic rhythm.

William followed your gaze, his form stiffening as he silently scanned the area for any sign of danger. After a tense minute of no one seen nor heard, he turned back to you, his shadowy head tilting in confusion.

With quivering lips you uttered one name that had explained everything, "Alastor."

.

"Mgh!" Vox grunted as he collided with the wall. The sickening crack tore through his body as he crumpled to the floor amidst a splash of sparking wires, debris, and hanging metal. His systems went haywire, his vision obscured by flashes of glitches and static, each burst of light stabbing into his consciousness like searing knives.

Despite the system failures, Vox couldn't miss the sight of a familiar red-clad demon stalking towards him with a menacing grin etched on his face.

"You..."

Struggling to move, the overlord felt his arm pinned under debris, the weight pressing down on him like a vise, squeezing the air from his lungs. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he sucked in a breath. Each inhale felt like fire scorching his insides.

Finding the leverage, with closed eyes and clenched fists, Vox braced himself and pushed with one hand while the other pulled, every movement sending waves of torment shooting through his body like bolts of lightning.

There was a sickening crack, the sound drowned out by the deafening roar of static and electricity that erupted from him. His back arched involuntarily, nerves and sinew spasming, his body instinctively attempting to curl in on itself to shield against the onslaught of pain as he ripped his arm off. Opening his mouth to scream, Vox found no voice escaping, only a glitched, distorted wheeze.

"My, my," Alastor chuckled, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement as he watched Vox dry-heave from the pain, relishing every moment of his torment. "Good show! Ho-ho! It's always such a thrill to witness your suffering."

"Wh-Wh-What the fuck do you want, old man?" Vox's voice glitched out as he shakily got to his knees, beads of water dripping and soaking through his suit, mingling with the blood and grime that coated his skin. The stench of metallic decay hung heavy in the air, mixed with the acrid scent of burning wires.

"You've got some nerve coming for me straight at my base," he shouted out, his screen flashing with a fierce red hue. "I've got you at a disadvantage!"

Alastor raised a brow in mocking surprise, twisting his head side to side to survey the torn-up tower with exaggerated interest. "Who's at a disadvantage?" he quipped with a shrug, his tone laced with derision as he gestured casually at the chaos surrounding them.

"I'm not the one on my knees, old pal," Alastor mused, his tongue dripping with sinister amusement as he tapped his staff against the flooded floors, the sound echoing. In one, swift motion, a shadow shot out, piercing Vox's shoulder and pinning him back against the wall, the tendrils coiling around him like a vice.

"Fuck you!" Vox hissed, his anger boiling over as he shot out wires of his own. Alastor made no attempt to dodge, staying put as the wires struck through his shoulder, flesh and muscle spraying out in a grisly display. Despite the gruesome injury, Alastor seemed unfazed, tilting his head with an audible crack, his grin widening into something unsettling.

"Sloppy," Alastor spat, blood trickling down the side of his mouth and dripping down his chin. With deliberate slowness, he raised a hand to grasp at the wires, his fingers curling around them with a sickening creak as he pulled them out.

"What the fuck are you even here for?!" Vox screamed.

"Funny you should ask," Alastor mused, his empty gaze boring into Vox's screen. Shadows wrapped around his injured shoulder, forming a makeshift bandage, while his other tendrils reached out, snaking towards Vox's ankles and forcibly dragging him forward. The demon fell onto his back, briefly submerged in the water as he was pulled towards Alastor.

Humming, Alastor slammed his foot down on Vox's torn arm, eliciting a scream of pain as sparks shot out. Chuckling, the Radio Delon hand came down hard, driving Vox's own wire into his eye with a sickening crack, causing the screen to fracture in a spiderweb of cracks.

"I'm here for my wife."

"Wife?" Vox narrowed his eye at Alastor in confusion for a moment, his screen flashing with red, blue, and yellow hues, before widening in recognition at the sight of a golden glint on Alastor's mangled, clawed hands.

Immediately, he snarled, his voice barely audible over the glitches and static, "I ain't telling you shit."

"Oh," Alastor drawled slowly, twirling his cane in his hands with a devilish grin. "You will."

Alastor moved with startling speed, lunging forward to grasp Vox's arms with his bare hands. With a vicious snarl, he began to tear at Vox's chest cavity, his claws digging into the metal casing with a sickening screech as he began to pull it off. Vox screamed in pain, his systems protesting against the assault, but he fought back, unleashing a flurry of sparks and glitches in a desperate attempt to break free.

"Old piece of shit!" Vox roared, his words dripping with venom as he punctuated them with a furious pound of his fist against the ground. Leaning up, he lunged forward, his hand shooting out to scratch at Alastor's eye with a scream of rage. "Radio's fucking dead!"

"You've got quite the fight in you, don't you?" Alastor's laughter echoed through the room as he jolted back from Vox's retaliatory strike.

With a casual flick of his hand, he wiped the crimson blood from his cheek, strands of his hair falling over the new scar that marred his face. "But I'm afraid spirit won't be enough to save your worthless life."

Alastor leaned down, his muscles tensing as his fist crashed into Vox's broken eye with a crack, causing the screen to fracture further. Lifting Vox by his collar, Alastor brought him closer to his face with a snarl.

"Radio killed the video star."

Alastor's tendrils coiled like vipers ready to strike, but before he could unleash them, a sudden crash of debris behind him jolted his attention. With a swift twist of his head, he peered over his shoulder.

Against the backdrop of the dark brick wall loomed a disheveled figure, her rosy cheeks and tousled hair framing her big, doll-like eyes. The shimmering of a necklace with a delicate rose pendant around her neck caught his attention, and in an instant, he recognized you.

Your hand pressed firmly against the wall for balance, while his shadow, William, enveloped your waist, supporting your weight. The fabric of your dress clung to your drenched skin, torn in parts, with one heel missing from your sprained foot. Streaks of makeup ran down your face, smudged by tears that threatened to spill from your eyes. You sniffled, your face flushed with warmth as a burning pain spread to your throat, choking back every sob that threatened to escape.

"Al…"

Alastor didn't know what to do with himself.

Every muscle in his body tensed, locking him in place as if he were frozen in time. In his shock, Vox slipped from his grip, crashing to the ground in a heap of metallic clangs and crackling wires.

With cautious steps, he stepped forward, testing the waters, metaphorically and literally. To his surprise, there was no barrier, no force pushing him back, and no contract manifesting before him.

"Cher?" he called out, breathless.

The sobbing wail that escaped your lips was answer enough.

Heart pounding in his chest, Alastor rushed forward and caught you in a desperate hug. His arms enveloped your trembling form tightly, as if he could shield you from the world's horrors just by holding you close. You sobbed against him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your body going limp like a puppet whose strings had just been cut. His hand flew up to cradle the back of your head, his touch both tender and urgent, his claws grazing your skin slightly in his desperation.

The smile on his face long dropped. His muscles tensed as he whispered your name over and over again like a mantra, each repetition a plea to whatever higher power might be listening.

For the first time in decades, Alastor felt fear grip his heart in its grimy claws. His eyes remained wide open, unblinking, as if he feared that closing them would make you vanish before his very eyes.

"Mon cœur," you heard the dark timbre in his voice, the faint crackle of radio static lingering in the air. Your husband drew his head back, and you winced at the loss of touch, but he immediately dove back in, pressing his lips against yours in a long overdue kiss. The taste of his metallic blood flooded your mouth, but you couldn't bring yourself to care.

Sighing against his lips, you tilted your head and pressed yourself further against him and Alastor grunted in response, his clawed hands mapping up the curve of your hips and moving up to your chest, pressing his palm flat against your heart to feel its steady rhythm. It beat for him, raced and throbbed because of him

You trembled beneath his touch, more tears slipping from your eyes, dribbling down your cheeks.

"That’s it, cher," he hushed. "My sweet girl. You’re alright. Everything’s going to be alright."

His hand reached out, cupping both of yours firmly, causing your rings to clink together. His thumb gently traced over the back of your right hand, caressing the golden band.

Alastor paused, his fingertips gliding over the unfamiliar texture of an engraving on the ring, a curious furrow creasing his brow as he moved back in to examine your hands. You hesitantly allowed his inspection, silently noting the subtle twitches on his blank expression.

Despite the tenderness of his touch, Alastor's face remained devoid of his usual smile. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, silently asking for an explanation, and you answered the unspoken question immediately.

"Vox."

With just one word, Alastor immediately understood. A fleeting smile graced his lips as he pressed a final tender kiss to both of your eyelids before his grin returned in full force. he snapped his head back to face Vox, holding you close in his arms, supporting your weight due to your broken ankle. "It seems we have some unfinished business."

"Yeah, we fucking do," a new voice interjected, causing both you and Alastor to whirl around.

Velvette and Valentino made their presence known as they stood stoically by the entrance, their disheveled appearances and visible injuries painting a picture of the struggle that had unfolded. Every bruise, every torn piece of clothing seemed to speak on its own of the relentless assault Alastor had unleashed upon the building. It was clear that they had endured their fair share of the battle.

"Come."

Velvette reached her hand out, and you felt an odd sensation of tugging at your neck. Suddenly, a hot pink collar materialized around you, and before you could react, you were forcefully pulled forward with a sharp yank. The sudden movement caused you to stumble several feet, your injured ankle buckling beneath you with a jolt. A scream ripped from your throat, the intensity of the pain washing your vision with a blaring flash of white.

Valentino immediately grabbed you by the hair, wrenching you up as though you were nothing more than a prize to be claimed. "You want her? Well, we're going to have to make a deal," he taunted.

Something primal gnawed and snarled at Alastor's insides. Even in the brief seconds since you were torn away from him, the ache for your presence already began to consume him, searing through his veins like a wildfire. It cut him deeper than any of the physical wounds he received. He had just gotten you, and now you were being torn away from him once more.

He wanted to scream, to tear at his own flesh in anguish, to rip through the barriers separating him from you until he could hold you close once more.

And if he had to paint the sidewalks of hell with the blood of these vermin to achieve that, then he would stop at nothing to see it through.

"There's not going to be a deal. I doubt anything you can offer would be of any value," Alastor's grin twisted into a snarl, his eyes flashing red. With a swift motion, he slammed his staff against the floor, unleashing a blare of crackling energy and swirling shadows into the air. "I'm going to end your fucking lives."

"Ay, calm down," Valentino snarled, his voice dripping with menace as he spread his wings, casting a shadow over the room. Dipping a hand into his coat pocket, he drew his gun and pressed it tight against your temple, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine. Sweat beaded on your forehead as the searing burn of the barrel pressed against your skin, a silent threat hanging in the air.

You didn’t realize you were crying until you felt Valentino's thumb run across your cheek, the demon cooing at you as if you were a child. Blinking away the tears, you opened your eyes to find Alastor's figure standing out vividly amidst the chaos, his red suit and hair glowing like fire against the darkness.

Like blood.

Alastor's entire body practically shook with anger, the shadows in the corners of the room writhing and twisting.

Their tainted blood should never dare to soil your skin, nor should the gaze of these wretches ever dare to tarnish your beautiful visage. In his eyes, you were pure and untainted, and above all, you belonged to him.

Only him.

"Now," Valentino chuckled, a twisted smile playing on his lips as he reached out to pet your head with a hand, his fingernails sharp and threatening. "It's really not worth the trouble. So why don't you stop this tantrum, grab your little bitch, and get out? She's not this fucking valuable to us."

"D-D-D-Don't!" Vox's voice crackled from his spot on the floor, his one functional arm trembling as he struggled to rise.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," Velvette scowled, her nails digging into the fabric of her torn dress as she hurled your contract towards Alastor with a vicious flick of her wrist. "Do we have a fucking deal?"

Alastor's hand shot out, snatching the contract mid-air before it could reach the ground. Holding it aloft, he tore it apart with a savage rip, the sound of paper shredding echoing like thunder through the room.

"Deal."

Instantly, the chains restraining you dissolved, and Valentino moved away from you. You felt a gentle tug as Alastor's swirling shadows guided you towards him. His arm enveloped you protectively, pulling you close as if shielding you from any further harm. His wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Velvette and Valentino, a silent warning in his stance.

"I'll make sure you regret ever crossing us," Alastor declared with a menacing growl, summoning a swirling portal of shadows behind him as he slowly backed away, pulling you along with him. Before departing, he deftly removed your engraved ring from your finger and tossed it in Vox's direction.

"Radio isn't dead," Alastor snarked as the shadowed portals began to envelop you both, their inky tendrils curling around you like a shroud, "but this broadcast is coming to an end."

With that, you and Alastor vanished into the swirling shadows, leaving the three figures standing amidst the aftermath.

The building lay in ruins, reduced to disrepair. Water trickled down from the shattered remnants of the aquarium, its glass now fractured and broken, mingling with the thick dust that hung in the air like a shroud. From top to bottom, no room was left untouched by the devastation wrought on by the Radio Demon.

Velvette stood rigid in the center of the room, her figure shadowed as she bore her intense gaze into Vox. The TV demon scoffed dismissively, his broken screen flickering erratically, casting disjointed shadows across the room.

"I'm killing her," Velvette declared.

"Who?" Vox croaked, doing his best to sit up as Valentino helped him to his feet.

Velvette clenched her teeth, her frustration boiling over as she stepped forward and forcefully slammed her heels down on Vox's legs, sending him slamming back down, the sound echoing in the room. She spat in his fractured screen, her voice dripping with venom.

"I'M FUCKING KILLING HER!"

.

"Don'tcha worry about a thing, sweetheart!" Mimzy chirped cheerfully, her voice ringing out above the din of the crowded bar. Balancing a huge stack of beer in her arms, she maneuvered skillfully through the maze of tables, dodging patrons and obstacles with ease. The dim lights of the bar reflected off the bottles, casting shimmering patterns across the worn wooden surface, while the faint scent of alcohol lingered in the air, mingling with chatter and laughter.

Arriving at the table, a group of men erupted in hollers and cheers. Mimzy giggled in response, her laughter joining the chorus of noise as she shot a playful wink in their direction. With a bit too much force, she shoved the tray onto the table, causing the overflowing glasses to slosh and liquor to spill onto the tabletop.

"Enjoy!"

With a toss of her hair, she sauntered away, her heels echoing against the wooden floorboards as she made her way towards the entrance. The club was delightfully full tonight, and Mimzy could practically taste the mouthwatering green of money already.

But just as she reached the doorway, a hand grabbed her, yanking her out into the darkness beyond. The blonde's cheery demeanor disappeared in an instant as she found herself shoved up against a nearby wall.

The cold grime and mysterious mold clinging to the brick surface sent a shiver down her spine, the dampness seeping through her clothes and chilling her to the bone. The dim light from the bar seemed to fade into obscurity as the darkness of the alley enveloped her, suffocating her senses. Panic surged within her as she struggled against her assailant.

"Hey! What gives—" Mimzy began, but her words caught in her throat as she realized she was face to face with Velvette. The overlord looked disoriented and disheveled in the dimly lit alleyway, her clothes torn and her hair in disarray. Her eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now held a wild, frenzied glint.

"There you are," Velvette's grip on Mimzy's dress tightened, her nails digging deep into the fabric and piercing skin, sending a sharp twinge of pain through the blonde. "I've been looking for you."

The blonde recoiled as Velvette's claws trailed up her throat, leaving a trail of stinging scratches in their wake. The metallic smell of blood flooded her nose as one of Velvette's nails grazed over her skin, catching on the delicate chain of her necklace and tugging it slightly.

With a trembling voice, Mimzy managed to choke out, "Oh! W-What do you need me for, sugar?"

Velvette's lips curled into a sinister smile, the glint of her sharp teeth shining under the alley lights.

"Oh, just a little chat," she replied, her voice dripping with malice. "Aren't you curious about what's been happening in your absence? Some skeletons in a closet got dug up."

The blonde's eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized the gig was up.

"I didn't—!" she started, but her protest was cut short by the sickening thud of Velvette's fist against the wall beside her. Cracks spiderwebbed across the brickwork, the crumbling debris cascading to the ground in a cloud of dust.

"Don't lie to me," Velvette hissed, as she leaned down to the blondes height, meeting her face to face. "You knew who she was. And you helped him."

"I-I didn't know," Mimzy lied straight through her teeth, trembling in her heels. "I swear, Velvette. I didn't know anything about his wife."

"Don't play dumb with me, bitch. You knew full well who she was," the overlord snarled.

With a derisive laugh, she threw her head back and added, "But you couldn't even keep it under wraps! You got fucking ratted out in less than 2 days!"

"No! No, I swear on my life, sugar!" Mimzy pleaded, her voice trembling as she shook her head, her golden curls bouncing around her shoulders. "I was just a stray bullet!"

But Velvette's expression remained cold and unforgiving, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You fucking liar," she spat, her voice dripping with venom.

A flash of silver caught Mimzy's eye, and she flinched as she saw the dagger in Velvette's hand. The cold metal glinted with a blue glow in the dim light of the alley, its edges sharp and sleek.

It was angelic iron, and the very sight of it sent bile rushing up her throat.

It hurt her eyes to look at the dagger, its presence filling her with a sense of dread she couldn't shake. But despite the fear coursing through her veins, she couldn’t tear her gaze away. She was frozen in place, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

But then, there was a sudden blur of movement.

"Wait!"

A sharp, searing pain shot through Mimzy, causing her to gasp. The sensation of blood trickling down her skin sent waves of nausea through her, and she dry heaved, struggling to keep herself upright.

Her eyes remained locked on the smeared blood on the steel lodged in her, the sight both horrifying and mesmerizing. It was so revolting, so surreal, that she failed to suppress a shudder of dread as she stared at it, transfixed by the grim reality of her impending fate.

Coldness began to envelop her, seeping into her bones as the darkness closed in around her like a suffocating cloak. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision as the edges of her consciousness blurred and faded. She felt herself slipping away, consumed by the shadows, as the alleyway swallowed her whole.

Velvette let the body drop, the dull thud echoing in the desolate alleyway. A twisted feeling of satisfaction flooded her veins, coursing through her with a sickening thrill.

The harsh glow of the streetlights cast eerie shadows across her features as she surveyed the aftermath of her actions. With a flick of her head, she turned away from the lifeless form, her cracked heels echoing against the cold pavement as she disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind a trail of crimson steps in her wake.

"And so it begins."

.

[lunarw0rks]

I feel like Graves would end up with a really soft and innocent s/o just because he loves being the 'strong man' lol and even though they're maybe even smaller than him all sweet and shy- he is absolutely whipped for them! Especially if they can cook and be a lil housemaker for him??

♡♡♡ warning(s): nsfw + sfw, fem!reader

─── graves and his homemaker s/o ❤︎₊ ⊹

there's no one on earth more loved and adored by him, despite the stigma surrounding the dynamic you two have. he doesn't pay any mind to their judgements. in his heart, he knows how tender he is with you behind closed doors. and in yours, he hopes.

you never pictured it to end up this way. before, you were like any adult. busting your ass at work, ending each week exhausted and struggling to buy yourself groceries.

and then you met him. chivalrous and borderline self-obsessed. but you weren't being patronized when he acted with traditional courtesy. you weren't a body to be claimed or a trophy to hang on his arm.

you were merely his. all his within months of meeting, and that meant you were to be taken care of. spoiled rotten, some would say. what better way to have it? compared to your old life of hardship, it was paradise.

everything paid for, without a second of hesitation. what little savings you had idle in your bank account, untouched when he's around.

he can and will take care of you — in every way. it's in graves' nature to provide.

no different than he does for his men, only you've been appointed the privilege of seeing the gentler side of him, when the uniform of a commander is rid of his scarred body.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈nsfw under the cut!

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙˖⁺₊˚⊹♡ it's only fair, to be taken care of in every way possible. you've been so good to him, so good for him, right? there's no quicker way to his heart, than someone who enjoys being smothered with his praise.

what better sight, than opening the door and seeing you concerning with such trivial things. he spent the day making life or death decisions, and you're there; concerned with which centerpiece looks best on the dining table. some men would see it as a means for competition, or a degrade — but graves finds it irresistible.

the house smells divine; your scented candles, the fragrance you spritz, and whatever you have baking in the oven. he can practically feel the tension leave his shoulders, how his senses come alive when greeted with the comfort of your shared home.

you've dressed nice for him again, though he always gave no pressure for you to do so. clothes to match the summer heat, hair styled and pinned back to stay out of the way.

you, in your domestic, relaxed state — the one thing better than all the trivial pleasures in life, better than the house you were both standing in.

though you usual greet him, you're immersed in the centerpiece debate. you hold the two pieces up to him, "do you think I should go with the silver candle candleholders? or how about the brass ones?" it's a genuine question, but it's only met with an amused scoff — a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

graves sets aside his luggage, stepping closer to you and your very concentrated gaze. "why do you ask me, sweetheart? it's up to you. and if you don't like 'em, we'll go buy more." he examines the decor in your hands briefly, but his eyes end up back on you permanently.

"just want it to look nice in here," you sigh at his dismissal, turning away to resume contemplation. "we have that supper planned in a few weeks, don't we?" you add, setting the options back on the oak table.

as if the place could be more meticulously decorated. there was barely a trace of him in this house, except for his nightstand and office. you had free reign to adjust the home to your taste, considering you were the one who spent most of your time there.

a gentle chuckle rang from him, followed by a click of his tongue, "don't think it can get much nicer in here, darlin'. i reckon you've left a touch on just about every inch of place, haven't you?" you shoot a flustered look, even though his words are truthful.

it was a silly dilemma, considering not a soul would be criticizing your centerpiece decision. "oh, c'mon, don't do that face... my guys will eat anything you slide in front of them, you know that? could host the damn supper in the closet and you'd charm the daylights out of 'em." he says, soothing every worry down to a simmer rather than a hard boil.

he's definitely good at shutting you up. only, in the most embellished of ways. without fail, a charmed smile spread on your face — as did a surge of warmth. graves cupped one of your cheeks, running his thumb along it, "see? much better than a scowl. now, tell me, what's cooking?"

"you know the rules. i can't tell you until the timer beeps. besides, it's supposed to be a surprise." you replied, making a meek escape from his gentle grasp. displayed on the small screen; eight minutes remained.

with a hasty yank and then a stumble on your end, your back was against his chest. "i don't like surprises, do i?" you felt the sensation of his teeth nibbling along the side of your neck, all in the midst of his patterned kisses. when he was this close, he got deep whiffs of your intoxicating perfume, the freshly shampooed hair on your head, the detergent you insisted he buy. heart-stopping — like it was every time he pulled you close.

it was true, he hated them. the tickle of his lips made you squirm — a futile attempt to slip away and leave him hanging. that never worked, and you knew it. "we're down to five, time's a-wastin'."

somehow, someway, neither of you made it up the stairs this time. all he did to prepare was send the stacks of mail flying from the island; the one you found yourself sitting on. graves stood between your legs, his caressing fingers your means of preparation. though, by the times your legs were exposed to the breeze — you and your body were eager enough for him.

the minutes decreased no matter how hurriedly he moved, and he always stuck to his rules. if there was a time limit, he'd get it done before zero.

"been thinking about you all day," he breathes. "by the looks of it, you have too, sweetheart." his tip prodded at your slick entrance, while the other hand hooked around your thigh to keep it hiked up with ease. wasn't the first time he ravished you on the kitchen counters, it certainly wouldn't be the last. slowly at first, then all at once — he thrusted inside of you.

once he got situated, there was no stopping him. every rock of his hips was purposeful and deep, yet his kisses remained delicate and tender. your moans muffled against his mouth, his lips pinkish and coated with saliva as it roamed your warmed face.

soon, your back was flat against the island with your legs still hanging off and in his grip. with every methodical movement, your walls tightened around his length and edged him closer to a finish. by now, you were certain your appearance was faulty; either ruined by sweat or the constant hands graves had on you.

despite being close within the first few minutes, he had gotten carried away ogling you. your gasps, your squinted eyes, the teeth indents on your bottom lip from how harshly you sunk into it. however, now there wasn't any restraint left in him. the tight coil in his abdomen begged for release, no matter how much stamina that remained in his body.

as the clock struck zero, he bottomed out with the force of his whole body — spilling every last drop inside of you. the oven beeped three times, as if on cue.

a string of curses against your lips as he leaned down to kiss you, sneaking in a few sloppy thrusts afterward. "i'll make it up to you later, make it worth your while." he pecked along your jaw, adjusting the strap of your top that had slid down your arm.

"it was worth my while." you replied between catching your breath, voice still quivering slightly.

he chuckled, fingers still playing with the fabric, "so, what's cooking? have i earned my right to know?" he was right; you always told him once the meal was ready, and that's what it was right now. the aroma hit your nostrils, as intoxicating as he found yours.

your eyes flicked over to the digital screen, still flashing and urging you to remove the pan, then it beeped for a second round as a reminder. "just a roast your mom taught me. thought you would've recognized the smell by now." you uttered, tracing your fingers along his blond stubble.

"hm, something must've distracted me, darlin'," he ran a tongue along his bottom lip, now gazing with admiration rather than hunger.

then, his brow raised with interest. both in humor and intense dread he added, "you've been calling my mother?"

[brewed-pangolin]

This brain worm has been bugging me all week.

MDNI 18+

Mechanic Soap who you meet at your local body shop in need of a quick repair to your car's door. It's a hefty dint, needing structural repair and a few layers of paint. You know this and are prepared to face the irrefutable mumblings of a man who thinks you to be just some typical dumb blonde.

Mechanic Soap who doesn't beat around the bush, tells you as is that it'll take a few days to repair the inner framework and add the required layers of paint to make it seamless to the rest of the vehicle.

Mechanic Soap already meeting your standards in someone who doesn't see you as just some woman who doesn't know what she's talking about. Willing to go over, in an overly detailed manner, the mechancis and functionality of the repair and necessities to fulfill such a task.

Mechanic Soap who makes you spill out that you have a vintage '68 Shelby Fastback in your garage that you've been painstakingly putting back together. Peaking his interest while he goes over the cost of the door mend, mindlessly mumbling that he'd be willing to assist in said vintage restoration if you'd let him.

Mechanic Soap who starts hanging around your garage all hours of the day as he tends to the intricacies and overly detailed rehabilitation that had taken you years to achieve. Effortlessly bringing the rusted frame of the muscle car to life, the chassis glistening in the afternoon light as you do your best to attend to his needs while not gawking at his expert hand.

Mechanic Soap who asks for nothing in return for working on such a classic in vehicular engineering. Yet you shower him in nothing but your best of culinary skills. Feeding him after a days work with such delicacies that only a skilled baker could attain.

Mechanic Soap who starts staying hours after the sun had set beyond the horizon, making his way into the intimacy of your home as you regularly extended an invitation for him stay for dinner. Infiltrating your daily life in a way you had never dreamed. Pleading for him to keep you company as weeks steadily turned to months of courting.

Mechanic Soap who shows just how eager he is by splaying you out on your bed. Working you into a pleasured mess on his fingers and tongue before tearing his clothes away to finally bestow you a more thorough experience. His unending stamina on full display as he contorts you into every position known to man. And a few you had never even heard of. Using his well-earned physique to his advantage, pushing you to the limits of ecstasy and more than likely earning a fee noise complaints from your neighbors.

-

Mechanic Soap who finally displays his unending talents as he worked his calloused hands over your voluptuous curves. Kneading into your supple flesh as he spread you open to finally take in the feast he had been so desperate to taste. Lapping his tongue between your folds, focusing on your pulsing bud as you writhe in pleasure beneath his expert grasp.

Mechanic Soap who now makes you breakfast every morning before you go to work. Always has the coffee ready, mixed with your favorite creamer and lunch waiting on the table. Sending you off onto your day with a smile that could light up a whole city, and a peck on the cheek that stays with you for the entirety of your day.

Mechanic Soap who came into your life by accident but has now permanently etched himself into your daily routine. You can't recall what your days were like before him, and you dared not imagine them without him.

Mechanic Soap who doesn't buy you a wedding ring. He forges one from the metal bearings of a camshaft. The sparklng gem at the centerpiece is an expertly crafted piece of iron ore, polished and etched to a glistening surface that shines with an iridescence like no other.

Mechanic Soap who doesn't marry you at the altar. He proclaims his vows at a local pub in Glasgow. Whisking you away for a honeymoon in the Scottish highlands where he treats you like a Scottish queen and worships the very ground you walk on.

A happy accident that turned into a life of unending royalties, and you're in no mind to ever want to remove the crown he so helplessly placed on top of your pretty little head.

This is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But I had to get it out. Thanks for reading my mindless rambles.

[cryptideye]

every employee should get to kill ONE customer annually, i think customers would be much more polite if they were on their toes about whether an employee is gonna get on their hands and knees and start barking and biting and mauling them

[ravasheencc]

OMSP+ Series

My version of the OMSP+ has been a work in progress for years - I actually showed the original version of this in my very first livestream in February 2021!

What sets this version of OMSP(+) from existing options is that it gives you free, unlimited vertical placement even when it is not placed against a wall.

•• ━━━━━ Credit ━━━━━ ••

This builds on the shoulders of many others - starting from the original OMSP from the Sims 3 days to the infamous Sims 4 red OMSP by @pictureamoebae. So much credit goes to these creators for their work! I made the OMSP+ shelf red to pay homage to amoebae’s OMSP shelf which has been the go-to standard for years.

•• ━━━━━ Livestream ━━━━━ ••

I livestreamed an overview on this mod on February 7th, 2023 which you can watch here!

•• ━━━━━ Features ━━━━━ ••

Unlimited vertical placement when using positioners

Food doesn't decay/spoil when slotted on the OMSP+ shelf

Flowers won't wilt when placed on the OMSP+ shelf

Candle burn time is infinite when slotted on the OMSP+ shelf

Maids/sims cannot automatically clean up items on the OMSP+ shelf (books)

Visibility can be manually toggled in live mode

Shelf is auto-hidden on lot/game reload (no need to create a sim to go into live mode)

Shelf becomes temporarily visible when hovering in build/buy mode

Turn visibility on/off through the shelf and any item slotted to it

Items slotted to it are not removed on game/lot reload or wall/wallpaper changes

Shelf is live-draggable when visible

Placement posts are colored with a grid pattern to assist with height placement

•• ━━━━━ Slots ━━━━━ ••

Small: 60

Medium: 60

Large: 51

TV: 3

Centerpiece: 1

•• ━━━━━ How To Use ━━━━━ ••

Add one of the three placement posts on your lot where you want the OMSP+ shelf to be (you can also place directly against the wall)

Place the OMSP+ shelf against a placement post or wall

Freely adjust the vertical placement of the shelf without holding down 'Alt'

Fine-tune positioning using the grid on the placement posts to get desired height

Once you are happy with the OMSP+ shelf placement, delete the placement post

Add clutter, TVs, and centerpieces to the OMSP+

Toggle the OMSP+ visibility in live mode buy clicking on the shelf or any item slotted to it

The shelf will be auto-hidden on lot/game reload if any of its slots are occupied

•• ━━━━━ Download ━━━━━ ••

Out now for patrons, public on February 28th!

See all the features & download now here!

[sykostyles]

melodies | 1.0

summary: he's the most powerful & ruthless mafia boss in the city, and she's just a music store owner. but once he hears her singing voice, he wants nothing more than to hear it for the rest of his life..and she's not so sure about that.. he'll do anything to change that. wc: 3.1k

warnings: none this time around!

a/n: hi babies! I disappeared again but I swear I'm here! I won't lie to you all, I lost momentum for a bit but my dear love @gurugirl gave me the idea of repurposing my jjk fics for Harry! so this is my first attempt at that. I hope you all enjoy!

Harry had been renovating his new estate for about a year now. Deciding on only the best of the best, but when it came to musical items that he wanted placed variously around his house; he wanted something more lived in. More story holding. Something that looks like it had been used and loved by many. That’s where he found you and your little shop “Encore Records” in the heart of downtown. 

He wanted a grand piano, but he didn't just want any grand piano. He wanted the grand piano you had on display in your store. The one your grandfather left to you from his touring days. Your grandfather was a traveling artist, carting this piano around to every city, every country. It’d been more places than you. It sat dead center in your shop, surrounded by records, plants and various instruments customers could test out before placing orders. The only thing unavailable to order was the piano. It served as a centerpiece that you played fairly often, especially while customers perused the store and Ellie ran the cash register.  

Harry had been stopping in probably two or three times a week to try talking you into selling him the piano for his home; not taking no for an answer. Sometimes Ellie would have to fend him off while you were working in the back. Ellie would then always dash to the back to tell you what happened before another customer would walk in.

“That big mafia guy was in here again!” she says, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Huh?” you ask, pulling one of your earbuds out., slightly startled from the touch.

“You know, the tall darkhaired one who’s hot as fuck, and defintely thinks the same about you,” Ellie says, motioning to your frame, giggling at your disgusted look. “The one with the huge hands,” she winked at you.

“Ellie, he wants the piano, not me.”

“Girl, he wants both.” she chuckles, “You’re allowed to be proud of yourself,” and she's leaving you alone. Proud of yourself for what? For some Yakuza man coming into your store every day, possibly scaring off possible customers? Not everyone wants to come in here when there’s a guy with a gun strapped to his chest, followed by three other men who are also armed. 

He’d offered you millions of dollars in return for the piano, but no amount of money could replace the memories you have sitting with your grandfather at this piano every night while he taught you how to play. Or the nights you’d gotten to be with him on tour and see him on stage sitting at the damn thing every night. There was no way you were going to give it up. But there was no way he was going to give up either.

It was a rainy Tuesday the next time Harry decided to come in. Another attempt at your piano, but today something in him changed.

Walking in, Harry notices you’d just opened so there weren't any customers yet. You still haven't fixed the doorbell either, another thing he’ll have to chastise you for today. He hears you before he sees you, singing along with the radio playing Forever Young by Rod Stewart through the speakers of your store, as you stand behind the counter on a step ladder rearranging the wall of weekly favorites. 

“And may you grow to be proud

Dignified and true..”

Harry can’t believe his ears; the angelic timbre of your voice and how it just rolls right off of your tongue so effortlessly.

“And do unto others

As you'd have done to you..”

He could listen to you all day long. In fact, he just might. He takes a seat on the piano bench, and just listens.

“Be courageous and be brave

And in my heart you'll always stay

Forever young, forever young

Forever young, forever young”

Once the song is over, you turn on the stool to grab something behind you, and you're startled by Harry’s presence. 

“Jesus, Styles. Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?” you nearly fall off of the ladder,

“On a business’ door? No.” he smirks at you. “Didn’t anyone tell you to fix your doorbell? Pretty sure I did last week. And the week before that,” Harry counts on his fingers, scolding you, “I’ll just have someone come do it for you.” He snaps his fingers, pointing at the man standing on his right. A tall, broad man with blonde hair. He smiles as he pulls his phone from inside his jacket.

“No, no Styles. Boundaries, remember?” you watch as he strides over to you, offering you his hand to help you off the ladder, but you ignore his gesture; placing your hands on the back of the ladder, stepping down, and turning to face him.

“Birdie, I’m not taking no for an answer. Your safety is at risk, and that’s not okay.” He retorts, the blonde haired man already returning from making the phone call. He looks to Harry, giving him a singular nod, to which Harry nods back. “Repair man will be here soon.”

“Why do you even care? If I died, you could probably get a good deal on the piano.” your eyes involuntarily roll,  “And I told you Birdie is reserved for my friends and those fortunate enough to see me naked, and you are neither of those things. Nor are you buying my piano.” Your hands are planted firmly on your hips as the words leave you.

Birdie was a nickname your grandfather gave you when you were young. Always running about singing like a bird. He’d scoop you up and you’d squeal, making him laugh with you. You were just a little birdie that wanted to sing her heart out. It’s what your mother wanted before she passed away. This store was your way of honoring your mother and your grandfather. They both instilled your love of music into you. 

Mom loved singing karaoke anywhere she could; praying she’d get recognized by someone who saw potential in her. And oh boy, did she. But she had you and you were her main priority and nobody could deal with that when she’d mentioned she had a daughter to the talent agents. Her heart was broken but watching you grow up was what she really enjoyed. She just made sure you had the same love for music as she did.

“Ouch, you don’t see me as a friend yet? I practically come to see you every day.” he trails his fingertips up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Plus, if you were to die, I wouldn't be able to ask you to sing to me every day.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that. Nobody was,” you mutter. Nobody had heard you sing since before your grandfather passed away. He always begged you to go on tour with him and sing some of his songs with him but you always doubted your ability.

“Well, maybe if your doorbell was working, you could have stopped before I did.” The cocky man stands before you, hands in his pockets as he retracts them.

“Do you like hearing the sound of your own voice? Wouldn’t you rather listen to music?”

“Mm, sometimes. But the only music I want to hear is your voice telling me “I love you” for the rest of my life.”

“Fat chance, Mr. Mafia man. Now, if you’re not here for anything other than to bother me about my doorbell and my piano, please leave.” your hands make haste to wipe the counter off before you lean back on the ladder. “What about a date?” you nearly choke on your own oxygen at his question.

“I’m sorry?” you giggle your response, unable to believe what he’d just said. Maybe Ellie was right.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he chuckles, “I’ll repeat it for you. I’d like to take you out on a date, Birdie.”

“Sty–”

“Harry. I’ve told you to call me Harry.” You don't miss the way his men behind him offer each other uneasy glances. He must not let anyone refer to him by his first name, and you’re not about to start either.

“Styles, that’s not going to happen.”

“You wound me some more,” he dramatically clutches his chest, “I’ll change your mind one day.. Just watch,” he says as he makes his way to the door, his men leaving before he does. “Have a good day, Birdie. See you tomorrow.”

You’re staring into space as he leaves, thinking of the extravagant date he’d probably take you on. He’d probably be able to give you the Pretty Woman moment you’ve always dreamed of. The heels, the long red dress, the lipstick to perfectly match and the updo hairstyle to tie it all together. Harry would probably make the best Edward Lewis in your life. But you’d never admit that out loud.

An unknown amount of time passes before you’re startled again; Ellie’s voice snaps you out of it. “Helloooo, Earth to Y/N!” she snaps her fingers in front of your face.

“Shit, sorry. I was stuck, haha,” you rub your eyes before looking at her face and offering her a smile. She hands you the coffee she had hid under her arm before tucking her belongings under the counter. You went back up the step ladder after grabbing the dust rag you’d gone looking for before you were so graciously interrupted by Harry. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Why did Mafia man just tell me you agreed to go on a date with him?”

“Huh?” you quickly turn to face her on the ladder, the legs wobbling under your jerking movements.

“He walked by me on my way up the sidewalk saying he finally got you to agree to a date and that I owed him the hundred bucks we bet on.”

“HUH?” nearly losing your footing for the second time today, you make your way down the ladder.

“Why are you acting like you don't know what I'm talking about?” she eyes you quizzically.

“Because I don’t know what you’re talking about! What bet?” your hands find your hips again.

“Why are you more interested in my wrong doings? He’s out here lying about you!” Ellie waves her hands back and forth, feigning innocence. 

“And my best friend is betting against me!”

“Semantics! C’mon, y’know I'm not actually going to pay him. He’s got more money than any one person knows what to do with.”

“That’s not the point, Ellie. You bet against me! How could you?” you toss the dust rag at her, feigning annoyance.

“Because I see the way you look at him when he’s here!” she tosses it back at you. 

“Ellie, he’s literally a yakuza. I can’t entangle myself in that, whether I like him or not,” you’d love to just let him spend a night with you but, a night with him is a night with five other people that go everywhere with him.

“Birdie, you have to live a little. Enjoy the thrill. Plus, he’d probably keep you so safe.”

“While simultaneously putting me in the most danger I've ever been in.

“Okay, but the one with the double buns on top of his head is hot and I want that one so i need you to take one for the team and go on a date with this man.”

“Is that your part of some deal you made?” you jokingly accuse her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, just go on a date with him.”

“You go on a date with him,” you huff and you leave her up front. To which it only lasts about fifteen minutes before she’s coming into the back room telling you some random guy is there fixing the doorbell and isn't taking ‘no’ for an answer.. 

You just roll your eyes.

Ellie just wants you to be happy, no matter the cost. And you think maybe she’s not weighing the cost as much as you are. Sure, you’d be under protection at all times but the fact that the protection needs to be there at all times means you’re in just as much danger. Which does not totally sit right with you, but he is very persistent. And fairly beautiful. But you have to think with your brain and not your vagina for once.

A few hours later, you’re rearranging the Pop section of records when the phone rings. Ellie picks up with her normal “Encore Records, this is Ellie,” a few seconds pass before you hear her speak again. “Hm, let me ask real fast she’s right here. Hey, Birdie, do you have a piano lesson available tonight at 6?” 

“Humm, I think so, check in my calendar. Take it if I do, please!” you go back to putting the Ariana Grande records in order by year. You hear Ellie laugh with the customer on the phone before she hangs up, thanking them for their business. “So do I have a piano lesson at 6 now?”

“Yeah, said his son's name was Niall and that he had been hounding him to learn piano from the lady at the big CD store.”

“His son sounds adorable! I’m looking forward to teaching him.” you smile at the thought.

“You just like the ego boost,” Ellie side eyes you with a laugh.

“You should try shutting up,” you chuckle, going back to arranging your floor inventory; moving to the Metal section.

Six rolls around and you’re pulling the sheet music you have for teaching beginners around on the stand. Ellie makes her way up front to gather her things, reaching under the counter and turning the lights down.

A huff leaves you, “Hey, I still have that piano lesson tonight.”

“I know,” she gives you a look, “Have the best time, Birdie, and she’s out the door.” Uh, okay?

Right after Ellie leaves, the doorbell sounds again and you turn to be met with Harry.

“Styles, I have a piano less–,” you pause, “There is no piano lesson for a boy named Nial is there?”

“He’s Niall,” Harry motions behind him to the man who called about your doorbell earlier. “And I’m the one who’s here for the lesson.”

Seated at the bench next to him, you can't believe you’re actually going through with this. But if he hadn’t put a deposit down over the phone, you wouldn't have. Clearly Harry and Ellie had cooked this scheme up somehow. You almost appreciate the effort.

“You don’t seem to need a lesson,” you remark, watching him mimic your motions without even trying.

“Would you be upset with me if I said I didn't?” He starts playing Forever Young on the piano, making your eyes widen.

“Not upset, confused,” your eyes are glued to his hands, fingers flowing effortlessly over the keys.

“Just wanted an excuse to talk to you for longer than a few minutes.” Harry’s hands keep up the melody.

“You’re not going to let this up are you?” your eyes roll for the millionth time because of this man. He has a way of making your skin crawl in a good way. But again that’s something you’d never admit;

“After I heard that singing voice? Never,” he smiles over at you, continuing to play the song on the keys. “Will you show it to me again? Please, Birdie?”

“If I say yes will you stop asking to buy my grandfather's piano?” fat chance, but you’ll try anyway.

“Scouts honor,” he winks. Huh? That easy? “Or is he just that in love with you?” You can hear Ellie say in your head. Shut up. 

As you begin singing along with his playing, Harry’s smile grows in size. His hands and arms move effortlessly across the piano, fully impressing you as you watch in awe. The words flow out of you like they did earlier today.

Once you finish, Harry looks at you like you just told him he’d won the lottery. Not that he needed to win the lottery. “You really have such an amazing voice,” he breathes out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“I’d call it a good harmonizing voice,” you chuckle. “I sound better with the radio.”

“I’m sorry, was I the only one with ears for the last three minutes? Mitch? Niall?” he makes you chuckle next to him as he turns to the men behind him

“I heard it Sir,” they both said in unison.

“And how did she sound?”

“Lovely, sir.” Niall says, looking over to you with a friendly smile.

“I have to agree with Niall,” Mitch says, without a smile. He seems to be more of a hardass than the other one. 

“Ah, so you are the delusional one here,” Harry turns his attention back to you. 

“Shut up. Lesson’s over,” you laugh.

“Aw, but I was just getting started. How about a date then? We can take the rest of this time somewhere else.”

“You would love that wouldn’t you?” leaves you in the form of a laugh.

“Certainly. Cmon, Y/N. I know the best place down the road. Whadya say?”

“I say you’re dreaming,” you stand from the piano bench. Walking over to the light switch, you turn the lights all the way up, making everyone wince at the sight. “And now it's time to wake up, Styles.”

“I’ll make it so worth your while. Please, just once chance, That’s all I’m asking for,” he stands and makes his way over to you. “Please, Birdie.” he runs his thumb over your cheek, you lean into the touch before you realize what you’re doing.

“If I say yes and I have a horrible time, can I reserve the right to ask you to leave me alone permanently?”

“Of course. I’d swear on it to never show my face in here again. But I promise we won’t have to worry about that. So tonight then?”

“Not tonight, how about tomorrow? After I close for the night?’

“It’s a date,” He smiles. “I’ll pick you up,”

“You mean you’ll all pick me up?” you motion to the guys behind him.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “They’ll be around, but not with us. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Maybe you should have started with leaving them outside then,” you roll your eyes, “No offense, boys,”

“None taken,” they say in unison again. Harry snaps his fingers and the men leave.

“You didn’t have to do that,” a chuckle leaves you again. You head for the door but Harry softly grabs your arm.

“Leave em, I’m heading out anyways, he slides his grip down your arm until he’s holding your hand, offering a kiss to your knuckles. “Until tomorrow, dear Birdie. He kisses your hand once again, turning to leave.

“B-bye, Styles.”

“Harry,”

“If you impress me, then maybe.”

[moonchildstyles]

Do you think you could write a blurb where witch! Harry is finally comfortable w Mitch and his friends so one night when they’re all out together Including Sarah and y/n, Harry doesn’t really pay as much attention to y/n as he usually does, and y/n becomes more clingy than usual and it makes Harry happy 🥺🥺

this is a little different than the exact request but I hope you enjoy!! thank you for sending this in:)

wordcount: 4k+

—————

Fiddling with his fingers in his lap, Harry watched as (Y/N) readied herself at her vanity. He wanted to be distracted by the sweeps of cosmetics across her skin or the flutter of her lashes as she dusted sparkles over her eyes, but he knew it was a losing battle. He'd already spent all of his distractions when he conjured up his outfit and fussed over his own hair in the mirror. His nervous hands had prepped him too early, leaving him with way more time available than he needed. 

"You know," (Y/N) started, catching his gaze in the reflection, "we don't have to go tonight if you don't want to. We can stay here and relax or go back to yours and cuddle with the girls. I don't mind." 

There was a split second where he considered her offer, folding his bottom lip between his teeth before he thought better of his indecision. (Y/N) had agreed to these plans earlier in the week and was almost done with her makeup already, there was no way he was going to let her cancel on his account. 

"No, I want to go," he insisted, matching her gaze though he figured he looked about as convincing as he felt, "I know I'll have fun, 's jus'... You know." 

A gentle smile touched the corners of his lover's lips. "I know," she assured, "We'll have fun once we get out there. This is the hard part." 

He gave a quiet nod in agreement. It was easier to stay home with her and luxuriate in the familiar, but he was trying to grow himself into a member of the world once more. Besides, Sarah's boyfriend, Mitch, was supposed to be there tonight with a couple of the others he'd met a few months back. As long as he found his space in that group again, he'd be able to make it through. 

Worst case scenario, he'd cling to (Y/N), say the word, and they'd be on their way home before he had a chance to crawl out of his skin. 

This was going to be good for him, he reminded himself as he continued watching (Y/N) through the mirror. 

He was going to have fun tonight. Probably.

—————

With his fingers laced between hers, Harry followed (Y/N) into the restaurant. The plan tonight was to go to dinner before heading to some of the bars downtown as some kind of informal celebration for Sarah's upcoming birthday. (Y/N) had gently let Sarah and Mitch know to go ahead without her and Harry (it was a small ruse to allow her some extra time to get ready and Harry an extra moment in the quiet apartment before braving the world), leaving them to be one of the last to arrive. 

The restaurant was loud and crowded, tables packed with chairs and bubbly patrons. The bar was busy, both servers and guests seated on the stools keeping the bartenders busy with plenty of orders. Fresh pizzas were being fired in the brick oven that worked as the centerpiece of the establishment, though there were plenty of spicy, greasy bar staples flooding out of the kitchen. 

As much as Harry worried over these kinds of outings, still on unsure footing when it came to the world outside of his bubble, the energy of this place fed him. Though it was a different kind of feeling compared to the hazy parties of the seventies that he was so ingrained in, this wasn't that far off from what he had been so accustomed to in the past (there were decidedly less drugs here, and more decency but that's besides the point). He could feel eyes trailing after him when he walked past, his stride bringing attention to the glimmering threads of his clothing and the woman on his arm. 

"Hey, guys!" (Y/N) greeted as they approached the table in the back the hostess had directed them to. On either side of the long table, faces turned to the sound of (Y/N)'s voice. Harry recognized the majority of them, though there were a few unfamiliar faces that he was both eager and nervous to meet. 

"You made it!" Sarah cheered, Mitch at her side with his own usually stoic features shifting into a smile when he caught Harry's eye. 

"Yeah, sorry," (Y/N) started, leading Harry down to the two free spots at the end of the bench seating, across from Mitch and Sarah and next to a familiar head of bleached hair he'd met at the concert night a few months ago. "The Uber took the weirdest way, and then hit traffic. I don't know what he was trying to do." 

Sarah shrugged and rolled her eyes as if this was a story she'd lived through just as many times herself. 

(Y/N) took the spot next to the semi-unfamiliar couple, leaving Harry on the very end of the bench without any extra neighbors. She and Sarah took up another avenue of conversation, others beginning to jump in now that the party could truly start with all guests in attendance. He held her hand tight in his lap, his attention drifting this way and that as more and more color and noise and new caught his eye. 

"Have you ever been here before, Harry?" Mitch asked from across the table, centering his wandering attention. 

"No, this is m'first time," Harry offered, a small smile on his lips. He felt a bit better knowing that Mitch was here—next to (Y/N), he was one of the only people he felt comfortable with. 

"Really?" Mitch sounded, his brows rising, "Don't you work around here, now? At that one music store?" 

Harry eagerly nodded to the question. He loved talking about his job—he loved spending so much time around music and the extra money that came with it was very exciting.

"I do, yeah," he smiled, "Have y'ever been there before? You'd love it." 

Mitch matched Harry's smile with his own grin, taking a sip from his drink with a slow shake of his head. "I haven't, but I might have to come see you sometime. Friends and family discount, right?"

Letting out a laugh, Harry nodded his head. He really hoped Mitch meant it when he said he'd come visit—he wasn't sure how to add discounts yet to the register, but he'd make sure his friend got whatever he wanted when he came by. 

As Mitch started on a new avenue of conversation, Harry relaxed further the longer the night went on, feeling less and less of the anxiety that he left the house with. He felt thoroughly distracted—comfortable, even, when the semi-familiar man (Kid, he thinks was their nickname) on (Y/N)'s other side piped into his and Mitch's conversation. The edge he had been standing on slowly dulled until he was laughing loudly and settling into his skin the way he used to back in the day. 

Once ordered, drinks and dinner were delivered to the table. Honestly, Harry almost wanted to speed through his meal knowing that the rest of the plans for the night were to head to a bar down the plaza, leaving more room to hang out with his friends. He was having too much fun to waste time like this. Under the table, (Y/N)'s hand was settled on his thigh, turning palm up once he attempted to wiggle his fingers between hers. 

Looking up at her, his hand loaded with a slice of plain cheese pizza, he saw her looking at him with a raised brow. 

"Feeling better?" she murmured to him, the others around them distracted by their own food to listen in. 

A small smile was on Harry's lips as he nodded his head. "Yeah, a lot. I forget how nice everyone is." 

"And, how much they like you," (Y/N) added, "I'm happy you're feeling better, though. Do you still want to go to the bars with everyone after?" His eager nod had to be enough of an answer with the way she let out a huff of laughter, her hand squeezing his under the table. "Okay," she smiled, "Just wanted to double check." 

Tipping her chin, (Y/N) puckered her lips just enough to draw him in for a short kiss. Harry felt his heart skip a beat in his chest, even if the contact was nothing more than a small peck on his mouth. The vine tethering the chambers of his heart to hers pulsed, urging him to stay close to her. 

"Thank you," he murmured, blinking up at her through the fan of his lashes. 

"For what?" she asked, nudging him, their private moment drawing on long enough to catch the attention of Sarah across the table. Her eyes softened as she glanced at them.

"Taking me tonight," he answered, keeping his voice low. If Sarah could watch, he just hoped she couldn't hear every word. "I know 'm a lot sometimes—thank you for still wanting to bring me even if I wasn't sure." 

She tipped her head, eyes fond and tender to match the smile on her lips. "Of course, H. You don't really have much of a choice, though—you're my soulmate, you pretty much have to come with me."

He knew she was trying to joke with him, get him to laugh the same way she realized her own plume of laughter, but he liked hearing her call him her soulmate to do anything more than surge forward for another kiss. 

————— 

(Y/N) with Sarah and some of the other women at her side, didn't take much time before getting their first round of drinks to indulge in the dance floor of the bar, cheering in celebration of Sarah's birthday. Harry, along with Mitch and the rest of the few that didn't want to brave the sweaty congregation all hung back, drinks in hand with a table luckily claimed along the back of the bar. 

More often than not, he had his eyes on (Y/N), watching her like she was a bubble of sunshine in the middle of the dance floor. He could hear her laughter, see her dancing with her friends, and practically feel the beam of her happiness even sitting so far off. Mitch was much like him, watching his own girlfriend as she celebrated her birthday, a fond smile on his lips. 

The third time Harry caught him gazing with hearts in his eyes towards Sarah and the bobbing ponytail on her head, he asked, "How long have y'and Sarah been together?" 

Mitch blinked his eyes away from the dance floor, Kid at his side jostling him as he laughed with his own companion. "Hm?" Mitch hummed, taking a sip from his beer as he plugged into the moment once more. 

Harry knew the feeling well: what it was like to forget the rest of the details around him when he had his eyes on his sunshine. Chin in his palm with his elbow resting on the table, Harry let a small smile sit on his lips. "I asked how long you and Sarah have been together." 

"Oh, sorry," Mitch offered, sheepishly clearing his throat, "We've been together for a little over three years, now." 

"Wow," Harry awed, the romantic inside him sinking at the thought of having that much time with (Y/N) at his side. "How did y'meet?" 

Only having time to open his mouth to take in a breath before his story, Mitch was cut off when Kid butted in. His eyes were a bit glassy thanks to the alcohol in his system, but his words were clear when he interjected: "I set them up!" 

Kid's partner—Jenny—laughed at his insistence, especially when Mitch rolled his eyes though he couldn't completely stave off the amusement on his features. 

"Barely," Mitch countered, voice a petulant mumble when he looked back at Harry, "He just happened to know the both of us, but he didn't set us up." 

"Was I not the one that invited both of you to my birthday party?" 

Harry sat back, drink in hand, as he watched the light-hearted argument. It felt nice to be sitting among friends for the first time in decades, learning tidbits about their lives and finding where he fit in within the dynamic. (Y/N) was his heart and soul, everything that made his existence feel purposeful, but this was a facet of his life he hadn't realized he was craving so badly until it was offered to him. 

"Harry, don't you think that qualifies as a set up?" 

Perking up at the sound of his name, he plugged into the conversation once more, only to have three pairs of eyes waiting on him. Both Jenny and Mitch held amusement in their gazes though Kid seemed terribly serious with his request for backup.

Unable to help himself, Harry had to prod. 

"Well," he started, breathing in a sigh as he laid his forearms out on the table, "How long after your birthday did they go on a real date?" 

It was the chatter that started almost immediately after he finished speaking that had Harry smiling into the rim of his own cup, pretending to sip as he took it all in. 

—————

With sweat sticking her baby hairs to her temples and slicking down her back, (Y/N) practically stumbled after Sarah as they drifted from the dance floor. The few others that had paraded out there with them stayed behind for the rest of the song, while Sarah had insisted that she needed another drink before she could dance any longer. Sweaty hands pressed palm to palm, (Y/N) followed her out in the semi-fresh air of the rest of the bar now that they weren't tucked between the rest of the patrons on the dance floor. It was suddenly sobering to be out of the crowd, but that didn't mean she wasn't feeling the effects of the cocktail from dinner and the celebratory shots they took once stepping into the bar. 

With Sarah leading her to the bar, (Y/N) traced her eyes through the space, knowing Harry was around somewhere but she was a touch too intoxicated to rely on the tether between them. She found him, a bright sunshiney yellow spot, tucked at the end of the booth next to Mitch with Jenny and Kid laughing along to whatever it was that Harry was saying. It was silly to her, as she took in the moment, just how nervous he had been before leaving, worrying over not fitting in, doing nothing but clinging to her side, not having fun, to now being the center of attention. It was just as she figured it would be—no one was immune to his presence. 

Tugging her forward, (Y/N) went along with Sarah to the bar until they had fought through the two-deep crowd to the counter. Sarah didn't need to ask what she wanted, instead slurring out an order of two fruity cocktails with a drunken declaration that it was her birthday. Over her shoulder, (Y/N) could see the bartender laughing at Sarah's excitement, though that information would surely garner them a discount anyway. 

Once their drinks were in hand, Sarah didn't waste time before putting the straw between her lips and gulping down the drink. "Let's go say hi, then we'll go back!" she shouted over the music after taking down the mouthful of juice and vodka, gesturing towards their claimed table with the rest of their party. 

Nodding with her own straw between her lips, (Y/N) was more than happy to take a break and see her soulmate before heading back into the sweaty throng of people. 

It took a bit of maneuvering, but making it to the table was quick enough and well worth the small spill she made on her shoes when she saw Harry's face light up when he caught sight of her. Whatever story he had been in the middle was put on pause when the pair of them made it to the table, Harry opening his arms for her to fall into. Mitch as well looked amused to see his mumbling girlfriend, a familiar glimmer in his eyes when he took her in. 

"Hi, you," Harry murmured, taking a hold of (Y/N)'s drink and setting it on the stable table. "How are y'feeling, sunshine?" 

"I'm good," she smiled, languidly draping her arms over his shoulders as she fought the urge to climb on his lap instead, "Kind of drunk, I think, though. Are you having fun?" 

Dimples deep in his cheeks, dots of glitter shimmering on his cheekbones, he looked to her with tenderness coating his gaze. "'M having a lot of fun, sunshine. Are you?" 

"Mhm," she hummed, unable to hold back from pressing a clumsy kiss to the corner of his mouth, "But I feel like I've barely seen you tonight. You said you were gonna come dance with me." 

"Sorry, love," he crooned, smiling despite the pout on her own lips, "Jus' got a little distracted, but you know 'm right here if y'need me." 

"Yeah," she sighed, drooping like some long-suffering spouse, "But, I've missed my soulmate—I know you're right here, but it's not the same. You're too busy with your friends." 

Her petulance only pulled a plume of laughter from him, even if there was something decidedly softer than before in his eyes. "You're still m'best friend, love, you know that. Jus' wanted to let y'have your fun, then I was going to bother y'the rest of the night." 

"You never bother me," she countered, canting her head.

It was Harry's turn to tip his chin and press a kiss to her lips, though this contact was much more coordinated than her previous attempt. (Y/N) sunk into the contact, allowing Harry to hold her steady just before there was a call of her name from Sarah. 

"Hm?" she asked, pulling away from Harry with her lipgloss surely missing from her mouth though it now sparkled on Harry's. 

"We need to go back," she bubbled, taking her half-finished drink with Mitch looking on with a poorly hidden smile. "Listen to the song! We need to go out there!" 

Tuning into the moment once more, (Y/N) took note of the bright notes filtering through the bar. It took only a quick look over her shoulder to see the familiar bobbing heads of the friends they had left behind to get their drinks, one of the girls catching sight of Sarah and beckoning them back to the floor. 

"Go have fun, sunshine," Harry murmured, giving her a pat on the small of her back as if to send her off. 

That seemed to be all the encouragement needed for Sarah to grab a hold of (Y/N)'s hand and take her back towards the floor. Drink in hand, (Y/N) made a point to look back to Harry and give him a small wave goodbye for the moment. His smile only widened when she did. 

—————

"I love you." 

Despite the sweet declaration, Harry couldn't help the laugh that bubbled from his chest. He tightened his grip on (Y/N) as she draped herself over him in the backseat of their Uber (a concept he thoroughly struggled with until Mitch helped him both understand it as well as order one). 

"I love you too, sunshine," Harry murmured back for the third time in the span of five minutes. 

"Nooo," she moaned, curling into him as if she weren't practically on his lap already, "You don't get it, H. I love you—like, love you." 

His heart warmed even when she slurred over her words, the night dancing and drinking catching up to her finally. He wondered what their driver thought, listening into this drunken conversation. 

"I love love you, too, (Y/N). I—" 

"Why would you say that to me?" she cried, cutting him off drawing away from him with offense written all over her features. 

Glancing at the rearview mirror, Harry caught their driver attempting to hold back her smile before focusing back on the road before her. As a quiet favor, she turned up the radio just a hair more, an offer of privacy. 

"Why would I say what?" Harry crooned, unsure of how his love for her could cause her to feel so upset. 

"You called me by my name. Why would you do that? You never call me by my name, are you mad at me?" 

It took all he had in him to keep from laughing at her distress. He hadn't meant to upset her, he had hoped by saying her name she would see he was just as serious as she was. His arm looped around her middle kept her steady at his side. 

"Of course, 'm not mad at you, love," he cooed, erring on the side of caution with his voice terribly gentle, "Jus' wasn't thinking, I guess. I love love you, sunshine." 

His amendment seemed to be just enough to placate (Y/N) once more, drawing him into her with a blissed smile. 

"I love you more than anything, honey," she told him once more, back on track with her declarations, "I don't tell you enough, but I do. You're my favorite person in the whole world, and it's crazy that we could've never met if you didn't decide to live up in the mountain and do all your witchy stuff and—" 

"Oh, love," Harry cut her off before she could say much more about whatever witchy stuff he's got up to. Even with that, hearing her say she loves him more than anything in the world was enough to have his skin pinkening and warming. "You're my favorite person, you know that. Love you, so much." 

Before (Y/N) could try to argue anymore, declare her love for him to be the biggest (which was not true, because he loved her more), the car came to a stop at (Y/N)'s apartment building. 

"Here you are," their driver declared, peeking through the rearview mirror.

"Thank you," Harry smiled, the curl widening when (Y/N) seconded him with a bright chirping Mhm! 

"You're welcome," their driver smiled, "Have a nice rest of your night, you two." 

"We will!" (Y/N) brightly answered, struggling to get her seatbelt off. 

After helping her out, Harry collected (Y/N) in his arms and kept her steady when she stepped out on the sidewalk. She gave a final wave to their driver before clinging to Harry as he led her towards the building. 

"I had so much fun tonight, Harry," (Y/N) drawled, hanging off of him as he entered all the codes to get inside the building, her eyes warming the line of his profile. "Thank you for coming with me and taking care of me." 

"Thank you for bringing me with you," he said, parroting the sentiment from dinner. 

As he listened into her babblings as he took her up to her apartment, Harry felt his heart bloom like the petals in his garden. He'd had a perfect night, truthfully. While these were still people he had met through (Y/N), it didn't feel like he had spent the night with people putting up with him because of who his soulmate was. He felt like he had spent the night with his own friends, the kind that would have been a part of his hazy memories from the seventies, full of laughter and silly conversation. 

All for him to end the night with the love of his life. 

"I had a lot of fun tonight too, sunshine," he crooned to her, getting her safe inside the apartment once more. "I love you." 

"But, Harry, you don't get it." 

He could only laugh as he led her to her bedroom. He knew she would be arguing with him over the rest of the night.

Harry couldn't be happier.

—————

thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas of your own please send them in!!

[angelltheninth]

Heyo, I literally been trying to find your account for so long (my last one got deleted and I couldn't find yours) and I'm so happy I've found it again and especially at the time when your requests are open

Would I be allowed to request Miguel ohara being absolutely smitten with reader hcs? Idk like Smitten!Miguel or something 😭

Smitten like the kitten he is.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, head over heals, playful biting, teasing, cuddles, purring, kissing against the wall, smitten!Miguel

A/N: Two Spiderverse posts today?! Yup!

Smitten!Miguel who ends up staring at you rather then whatever mission report he's supposed to be reading through. For him you're the centerpiece of every room, you will draw his eyes to you the moment you walking and he'll be so caught up in looking at you that Lyla's voice will make him jump from his seat.

Smitten!Miguel who will laugh at your jokes no matter what, only your jokes. It would get really awkward if no one else laughs along with him, not that he cares, he wants you to know that he finds you funny and fun to be around, that you brighten up his day,

Smitten!Miguel who always puts you on missions with him so he can flirt with you. This implies both before and after your relationship turns romantic. When you're on missions he pays very close attention to you, he wants to know the full extent of your abilities. And... also make sure he can watch your back more efficiently.

Smitten!Miguel who starts purring when you put a hand on his lower back. It's one his very sensitive areas so any stimuli there will make him into a big softie. Don't you dare say that to anyone okay? You can touch him there all you want but he would die of embarrassment if anyone else knew he purrs from such a small gesture.

Smitten!Miguel who buys you gifts when there's absolutely no reason to. He can more then afford to spoil his sweetheart so don't worry about the amount of things he buys. There are many things that are matching but unless someone knew you both they'd never know you have matching accessories. It's like a cute little secret between the two of you.

Smitten!Miguel who leans his cheek in his palm and listens to you ramble on and on without interrupting once. He could listen to your voice for hours on end and never get tired. And don't even get him started on your laughter.

Smitten!Miguel who refuses to let go of you when you're cuddling. No you can't leave him, if you need to go anywhere he will carry you there but you can't let go just yet. He knows you don't want to leave either, you're just looking for an excuse for him to hold you tighter, closer, to carry you where ever you need to go. He's onto your tactics and he doesn't mind them working.

Smitten!Miguel who loves kissing you more then he would be willing to admit. He's always the one teasing you about starting the kiss but he's always the one who refused to let it end. He chases your lips with his, pulls and bites on your bottom lip until it's swollen and then pretends that he's very, very sorry so he could kiss it better. You're also onto him, but you don't complain.

Smitten!Miguel who pins you against the wall as a joke only to be unprepared by how cute you look like that. That cuteness is downright deadly. He has to make sure no one else falls victim to it but him, its his duty as a hero. So he will do this any chance he gets until it no longer has an effect on him... which will be never if him biting his lip whenever it happens are any clue.

Smitten!Miguel who lets you cup his cheeks in your hand whenever you feel like it. It calms him down so much to be touched so softly you have no idea. When you do this where other people might see, like his office he will always lock, he doesn't want anyone teasing him for going soft, Lyla already does more then enough of that.

[sea-lanterns]

I love walking around in my underwear when no one's around, just to feel free, so imagine Arlecchino coming home to see her lover in her underwear and decides to claim what's hers when its been presented to her so nicely 😳🤭

oh that’s bold, anon. I like it!

tbh, i’ve never walked around in my underwear before bc i’m just too shy and feel so exposed. but, i can picture doing it with arlecchino when she’s out, and she’d do the most unspeakable things to you the moment she sees you in nothing but a bra and panties.

nsfw under the cut—————————

arlecchino who comes home to see you walking around in nothing but your underwear. unfazed in the slightest when you see her come in, as you just casually wave at her from the doorway and keep doing what you’ve been doing before.

“hey arle!”

“…hello.”

she had no idea you did these kinds of things when you were home alone and part of her is upset she didn’t get home sooner. either way, she was home now, and that means she gets to have you all to herself…

“seems like you got busy while i was gone…” arlecchino chuckles, walking over to you and wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, caging you into the kitchen counter where you worked, so you had no choice but to stay put. “did you touch yourself without me? you know how i feel about that.”

your skin shivered as she trailed a pointed finger down your hips and over your waistband, snapping the elastic into your skin and riveting eager shocks throughout your nerves. “i didn’t touch myself. i just like walking around like this, you know? it feels nice…” you murmured softly.

“it certainly looks nice.” your girlfriend husks, scooping you up from your thighs and placing you on the counter. “like a walking present, all for me…”

she drinks in the sight of you, having saw it multiple times, it still never gets old as she moves forward to claim your lips as hers. dark hands grabbing every inch of skin she could possibly reach and squeezing it roughly with her palms and nails. “you picked out a good set, but even then, your body is the true centerpiece of it all.” arlecchino groans and makes quick haste to tug off your top whilst sliding her tongue into your mouth, wanting nothing more than to devour you where you sat.

“arle, we’ll ruin the counters again. i just cleaned them…” you laughed, playfully pushing her away.

“then let me clean them this time,” arlecchino chuckles, tugging your underwear down and letting your cunt hit the cold, bare, countertop. “after all, it is your fault for walking around so temptingly…”

and as you squealed from the cold marble hitting your most sensitive area, arlecchino quickly warmed you up again as she dove her rough tongue into your hole, imagining you in all the different underwear sets she could buy as she wanted this to happen more often…

[nerdyenby]

Things I noticed in my rewatch of Nimona (spoilers):

Gosh, I didn’t even remember the squire “trying to take a selfie” with Bal the first time round, it works so well both ways

The gay and trans flags behind Bal and Nimona at ~38:40

Nimona’s “You got betrayed by someone you trust, I get it, it sucks”

Ballister looking right at the American flag when talking about how Ambrosius was just doing “what we were trained to do”

The director referring to Ambrosius as “Captain” during the confrontation of the rooftop

The director’s poster saying “protecting our way of life,” an uncomfortably familiar xenophobic phrase

Nimona disguised as Ambrosius grabbing and pulling the Gloreth statue to the floor with her

Bal’s username being balliSTAR12

The director having the segment of Nimona turning into her kid form on loop every time we see her office, and that being how she made the connection to Nimona being the being that Gloreth “killed”

The movie Bal and Nimona watch describes zombies as “immortal, eternal beings” unable to be killed, followed by a woman asking “But what if they come for us?” The zombies — like Nimona — never attacked first, it was out of fear that they were hunted and any act of self-defense only served as justification for their cause

The very intentional fear mongering taking place in the director’s broadcast

God, Nimona was never aiming for anything but Gloreth’s sword

Ambrosius’s “You’re okay” to the old human he saves from getting squashed under Nimona’s feet mirroring her “It’s okay” to the little girl she saved from the car

An unnamed extra’s dialogue “Forget the kid, let’s go” being the antithesis to Bal’s running into the wreckage to get to Nimona

Bal’s “What have I done?” 🤝 Ambrosius’s “What are we doing?”

The vocalization as Nimona reaches the statue being the same as the first time she met Gloreth

Bal’s blade representing the corruption he’s resisting and every time he discards it drawing him closer to true compassion

The brunt of the director’s blast hitting Ambrosius’s left arm while Ballister lost his right

The centerpiece of Nimona’s memorial being in the comic’s style

The graffiti in Nimona’s handwriting of “love is love” on Gloreth’s statue’s hair

[corroded-hellfire]

My Favorite Elf - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: When you and Nancy go to the mall to finish up your Christmas shopping, the sound of a familiar voice leads you to a jolly surprise.

Note: I wrote this for @palomahasenteredthechat’s 12 Days of Joemas with the prompt “Is that velvet?” 💚❤️

Words: 1.4k

The holiday season at Starcourt Mall can be a chaotic nightmare on nights and weekends. Crowds so dense you can hardly see any of the mannequins modeling the latest looks at the GAP. It’s for this reason that you and Nancy decide to make a mall run straight from school one Tuesday afternoon. 

With most parents still at work and middle and elementary schools still in session, the mall is the calmest you’ve seen since before Halloween. You and Nancy plan on taking full advantage of getting all those last minute gifts you’ve been meaning to buy.

“Okay, I got the shoes,” Nancy says, jostling the brown paper bag in her hand in emphasis. “You wanted to go to Walden Books next?”

“Yeah!” you say. “I saw this book there the other day and I think Eddie would really like it.”

“Why didn’t you get it for him then?”

“He was with me,” you laugh. “As busy as it was, I still think he would’ve noticed me buying something.”

The bookstore is on the second floor, so you and Nancy have to take the escalators closest to the food court. Right before you lift your foot to hover over the silver steps, you hear a familiar voice coming from behind the escalators. 

“Are you ready? Come on, we’ll go up together.”

Your brow furrows in puzzlement, and Nancy turns to look at you with the same expression mirrored on her face. Together, you walk around to see what Eddie is doing at the mall and who he’s talking to.

A Winter Wonderland greets you and Nancy as you step around the towering escalators. The centerpiece is a life-size gingerbread house decorated with every type of candy you can think of. Colorful gumdrops frame the front door, pieces of licorice act as shutters to the icing windows, and oversized swirling lollipops stand around the house like a security team. 

Fake pine trees dot the scenery, their needles covered in fake snow. In fact, fake snow permeates about every spare inch on the display. It’s all around the platform and heavily dusted over the roof of the house. 

Sitting right in the middle of it all is the man himself: Santa Claus. He’s perched atop a large red throne smack dab in the middle of the wonderland. The entire display is surrounded by a white, glittery snowflake fence. 

There’s a girl dressed as an elf in a green tulle skirt and red tights standing behind a camera facing the big man. Your eyes then come across the best sight of all.

Your hand comes up to cover your enormous grin as you take in your boyfriend in his very own elf attire. The left half of his button up shirt is red, while the right half is entirely green. The same is true of the pants, just reversed; a green left leg and a red right leg. His hair is tucked up in a bun at the base of his neck and the rest of his curls are hidden by the green Santa hat on top of his head. The hat has golden jingle bells on the top and fake points to rest on top of Eddie’s ears to give the magical illusion of elf ears. The part that tickles you the most though is the shoes. They’re green with pointed toes that curl up, with a golden jingle bell attached to the tip of each. 

“Did you know he was working here?” Nancy asks you, a few giggles escaping her. 

“No!” You laugh but find it strange to look at his hands and see no chunky silver rings. 

The only people in the line to meet Santa are a little girl with long blonde hair, half up in a pink ribbon, and her mother. It’s understandable that there's hardly a crowd here on a Tuesday afternoon. The little girl looks scared and won’t let go of her mom’s hand no matter how much she encourages her. 

Eddie walks over to the girl and crouches down to her level.

“Hi. My name is Eddie. What’s your name?”

“Christina,” she answers softly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Christina. Are you a little nervous to meet Santa?”

She nods her head.

Eddie offers her his hand. “What if we go up there together?”

Christina still looks hesitant.

“You don’t have to be afraid of him,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. “He just wants to know what you want for Christmas so us elves can get to work on it. That is…if you’re on the nice list.” Eddie tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. “You have been good this year, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what I thought! Now, do you want to come up and tell Santa what you want?”

Christina stares at Eddie with wide blue eyes for a few moments before she nods her head. Eddie gives her a smile and extends his hand again. This time, Christina takes it. 

You watch as Eddie leads the small girl up to Santa and tells him her name. He crouches down and stays there until Christina seems more comfortable with Santa. When she climbs on his lap, Eddie steps aside so she can share what she wants with Santa in private. 

Once a picture has been snapped, Christina hops off of Santa’s lap and Eddie gives her a candy cane before she leaves the little Christmas village with her mom.

There’s nobody else in line to meet Santa, but he’s still scheduled to be there for another two hours according to the sign. The photographer elf starts cleaning up around her area and Eddie shuffles around his small space, looking for something to do. You take the opportunity to walk closer to the magical scene, Nancy right behind you.

“And here I thought Hermey the little elf dentist was the cutest elf I’ve ever seen,” you say as you approach the fence.

Eddie looks up and you immediately see his cheeks darken, but he gives you a bright smile.

“What’re you doing here?” he asks.

“Shopping,” Nancy answers, holding up her bags as proof.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, looking at all the festiveness around him.

“I’m just here for the candy canes.” He laughs when you pinch your eyebrows together. “Figured I’d get a holiday job and make some extra money.”

“What for?” you ask, knowing there’s nothing you want that could cost more than a few dollars. And that Wayne will probably just get a new mug. Again.

“Well,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I know your favorite band is starting a tour next month…”

“My favorite band besides Corroded Coffin,” you say, pointing an index finger at him.

“Yes, of course, that goes without saying.”

“Eddie, you didn’t have to do this,” you tell him, though your heart grows three sizes at the gesture.

“I wanted to,” he says with a bashful shrug. 

You peek behind the gingerbread house and raise your eyebrows at Eddie when you see it’s away from any possible prying eyes. He chuckles and nods his head in that direction.

“Be right back,” you tell Nancy.

“Take your time,” she teases.

Eddie helps you over the snowflake fence and you take another look at his costume. He looks even cuter in it closer up.

“Is that velvet?” you ask.

“No, thank God. Cotton. This already gets hot enough.”

“Look at my adorable elf boyfriend,” you say with a playful smirk.

His face starts to turn red as you wrap your arms around his neck. He places his hands on your waist and gives a small squeeze.

“You know,” you muse, tilting your head to the side. “You didn’t ask me.”

“Ask you what?”

“If I’ve been good this year.”

Eddie laughs and leans in to nudge his nose against yours.

“Because I already know the answer to that one. Pretty sure I contributed to it,” he says in a low voice, causing goosebumps to run down your arms.

He presses his lips over yours and holds you up against his body as he claims your mouth. Your hands slide into his hair, and it makes the green hat move, causing the little bell to jingle.

You pull away, unable to keep kissing because you’re full of giggles. Eddie sighs.

“Fine,” he whispers. “I guess we’ll just have to get naughty later then.”

[sykosugu]

melodies of passion | one

♤ summary: he's the most powerful & ruthless yakuza boss in the city, and she's just a music store owner. but once he hears her singing voice, he wants nothing more than to hear it for the rest of his life..and she's not so sure about that.. he'll do anything to change that. a gojo satoru au

♢ warnings: this story will contain descriptions of violence, death, illegal activities, sexual content, gang related content, use of weapons

♧ aw: none this time around, only proofread once if that counts as a warning

♡ currently: ongoing - no update schedule

♤ taglist: open! just let me know

♢ wc: 3.1k

♧ carlile speaks: hi my loves! chapter one is here! I can't wait to hear your reactions. you might recognize someone in this story. send some love from me on her stories kickoff and in another life enjoy!

♡: you are here | next part

Gojo had been renovating his new estate for about a year now. Deciding on only the best of the best, but when it came to musical items that he wanted placed variously around his house; he wanted something more lived in. More story holding. Something that looks like it had been used and loved by many. That’s where he found you and your little shop “Encore Records” in the heart of downtown. 

He wanted a grand piano, but he didn't just want any grand piano. He wanted the grand piano you had on display in your store. The one your grandfather left to you from his touring days. Your grandfather was a traveling artist, carting this piano around to every city, every country. It’d been more places than you. It sat dead center in your shop, surrounded by records, plants and various instruments customers could test out before placing orders. The only thing unavailable to order was the piano. It served as a centerpiece that you played fairly often, especially while customers perused the store and Ellie ran the cash register.  

Gojo had been stopping in probably two or three times a week to try talking you into selling him the piano for his home; not taking no for an answer. Sometimes Ellie would have to fend him off while you were working in the back. Ellie would then always dash to the back to tell you what happened before another customer would walk in.

“That big Yakuza guy was in here again!” she says, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Huh?” you ask, pulling one of your earbuds out., slightly startled from the touch.

“You know, the tall white haired one who’s hot as fuck, and defintely thinks the same about you,” Ellie says, motioning to your frame, giggling at your disgusted look. “The one with the huge hands,” she winked at you.

“Ellie, he wants the piano, not me.”

“Girl, he wants both.” she chuckles, “You’re allowed to be proud of yourself,” and she's leaving you alone. Proud of yourself for what? For some Yakuza man coming into your store every day, possibly scaring off possible customers? Not everyone wants to come in here when there’s a guy with a gun strapped to his chest, followed by three other men who are also armed. 

He’d offered you millions of dollars in return for the piano, but no amount of money could replace the memories you have sitting with your grandfather at this piano every night while he taught you how to play. Or the nights you’d gotten to be with him on tour and see him on stage sitting at the damn thing every night. There was no way you were going to give it up. But there was no way he was going to give up either.

It was a rainy Tuesday the next time Gojo decided to come in. Another attempt at your piano, but today something in him changed.

Walking in, Gojo notices you’d just opened so there weren't any customers yet. You still haven't fixed the doorbell either, another thing he’ll have to chastise you for today. He hears you before he sees you, singing along with the radio playing Forever Young by Rod Stewart through the speakers of your store, as you stand behind the counter on a step ladder rearranging the wall of weekly favorites. 

“And may you grow to be proud

Dignified and true..”

Gojo can’t believe his ears; the angelic timbre of your voice and how it just rolls right off of your tongue so effortlessly.

“And do unto others

As you'd have done to you..”

He could listen to you all day long. In fact, he just might. He takes a seat on the piano bench, and just listens.

“Be courageous and be brave

And in my heart you'll always stay

Forever young, forever young

Forever young, forever young”

Once the song is over, you turn on the stool to grab the dust rag behind you, and you're startled by Gojo’s presence. 

“Jesus, Gojo. Didn’t anyone teach you to knock?” you nearly fall off of the ladder,

“On a business’ door? No.” he smirks at you. “Didn’t anyone tell you to fix your doorbell? Pretty sure I did last week. And the week before that,” Gojo counts on his fingers, scolding you, “I’ll just have someone come do it for you.” He snaps his fingers, pointing at the man standing on his right. A tall, broad man with long black hair tucked neatly into a bun. He smiles as he pulls his phone from inside his jacket.

“No, no Gojo. Boundaries, remember?” you watch as he strides over to you, offering you his hand to help you off the ladder, but you ignore his gesture; placing your hands on the back of the ladder, stepping down, and turning to face him.

“Birdie, I’m not taking no for an answer. Your safety is at risk, and that’s not okay.” He retorts, the dark haired man already returning from making the phone call. He looks to Gojo, giving him a singular nod, to which Gojo nods back. “Repair man will be here soon.”

“Why do you even care? If I died, you could probably get a good deal on the piano.” your eyes involuntarily roll,  “And I told you Birdie is reserved for my friends and those fortunate enough to see me naked, and you are neither of those things. Nor are you buying my piano.” Your hands are planted firmly on your hips as the words leave you.

Birdie was a nickname your grandfather gave you when you were young. Always running about singing like a bird. He’d scoop you up and you’d squeal, making him laugh with you. You were just a little birdie that wanted to sing her heart out. It’s what your mother wanted before she passed away. This store was your way of honoring your mother and your grandfather. They both instilled your love of music into you. 

Mom loved singing karaoke anywhere she could; praying she’d get recognized by someone who saw potential in her. And oh boy, did she. But she had you and you were her main priority and nobody could deal with that when she’d mentioned she had a daughter to the talent agents. Her heart was broken but watching you grow up was what she really enjoyed. She just made sure you had the same love for music as she did.

“Ouch, you don’t see me as a friend yet? I practically come to see you every day.” he trails his fingertips up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Plus, if you were to die, I wouldn't be able to ask you to sing to me every day.”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that. Nobody was,” you mutter. Nobody had heard you sing since before your grandfather passed away. He always begged you to go on tour with him and sing some of his songs with him but you always doubted your ability.

“Well, maybe if your doorbell was working, you could have stopped before I did.” The cocky man stands before you, hands in his pockets as he retracts his hands from you.

“Do you like hearing the sound of your own voice? Wouldn’t you rather listen to music?”

“Mm, sometimes. But the only music I want to hear is your voice telling me “I love you” for the rest of my life.”

“Fat chance, Mr. Yakuza man. Now, if you’re not here for anything other than to bother me about my doorbell and my piano, please leave.” your hands make haste to wipe the counter off before you lean back on the ladder. “What about a date?” you nearly choke on your own oxygen at his question.

“I’m sorry?” you giggle your response, unable to believe what he’d just said. Maybe Ellie was right.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he chuckles, “I’ll repeat it for you. I’d like to take you out on a date, Birdie.”

“Goj–”

“Satoru. I’ve told you to call me Satoru.” You don't miss the way his men behind him offer each other uneasy glances. He must not let anyone refer to him by his first name, and you’re not about to start either.

“Gojo, that’s not going to happen.”

“You wound me some more,” he dramatically clutches his chest, “I’ll change your mind one day, Birdie. Just watch,” he says as he makes his way to the door, his men leaving before he does. “Have a good day, Birdie. See you tomorrow.”

You’re staring into space as he leaves, thinking of the extravagant date he’d probably take you on. He’d probably be able to give you the Pretty Woman moment you’ve always dreamed of. The heels, the long red dress, the lipstick to perfectly match and the updo hairstyle to tie it all together. Gojo would probably make the best Edward Lewis in your life. But you’d never admit that out loud.

An unknown amount of time passes before you’re startled again; Ellie’s voice snaps you out of it. “Helloooo, Earth to Y/N!” she snaps her fingers in front of your face.

“Shit, sorry. I was stuck, haha,” you rub your eyes before looking at her face and offering her a smile. She hands you the coffee she had hid under her arm before tucking her belongings under the counter. You went back up the step ladder after grabbing the dust rag you’d gone looking for before you were so graciously interrupted by Gojo. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Why did Yakuza man just tell me you agreed to go on a date with him?”

“Huh?” you quickly turn to face her on the ladder, the legs wobbling under your jerking movements.

“He walked by me on my way up the sidewalk saying he finally got you to agree to a date and that I owed him the hundred bucks we bet on.”

“HUH?” nearly losing your footing for the second time today, you make your way down the ladder.

“Why are you acting like you don't know what I'm talking about?” she eyes you quizzically.

“Because I don’t know what you’re talking about! What bet?” your hands find your hips again.

“Why are you more interested in my wrong doings? He’s out here lying about you!” Ellie waves her hands back and forth, feigning innocence. 

“And my best friend is betting against me!”

“Semantics! C’mon, y’know I'm not actually going to pay him. He’s got more money than any one person knows what to do with.”

“That’s not the point, Ellie. You bet against me! How could you?” you toss the dust rag at her, feigning annoyance.

“Because I see the way you look at him when he’s here!” she tosses it back at you. 

“Ellie, he’s literally a yakuza. I can’t entangle myself in that, whether I like him or not,” you’d love to just let him spend a night with you but, a night with him is a night with five other people that go everywhere with him.

“Birdie, you have to live a little. Enjoy the thrill. Plus, he’d probably keep you so safe.”

“While simultaneously putting me in the most danger I've ever been in.

“Okay, but the one with the double buns on top of his head is hot and I want that one so i need you to take one for the team and go on a date with this man.”

“Is that your part of some deal you made?” you jokingly accuse her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, just go on a date with him.”

“You go on a date with him,” you huff and you leave her up front. To which that only lasts about fifteen minutes before she’s coming into the back room telling you some random guy is there fixing the doorbell and isn't taking ‘no’ for an answer.. 

You just roll your eyes.

Ellie just wants you to be happy, no matter the cost. And you think maybe she’s not weighing the cost as much as you are. Sure, you’d be under protection at all times but the fact that the protection needs to be there at all times means you’re in just as much danger. Which does not totally sit right with you, but he is very persistent. And fairly beautiful. But you have to think with your brain and not your vagina for once.

A few hours later, you’re rearranging the Pop section of records when the phone rings. Ellie picks up with her normal “Encore Records, this is Ellie,” a few seconds pass before you hear her speak again. “Hm, let me ask real fast she’s right here. Hey, Birdie, do you have a piano lesson available tonight at 6?” 

“Humm, I think so, check in my calendar. Take it if I do, please!” you go back to putting the Ariana Grande records in order by year. You hear Ellie laugh with the customer on the phone before she hangs up, thanking them for their business. “So do I have a piano lesson at 6 now?”

“Yeah, said his son's name was Suguru and that he had been hounding him to learn piano from the lady at the big CD store.”

“His son sounds adorable! I’m looking forward to teaching him.” you smile at the thought.

“You just like the ego boost,” Ellie side eyes you with a laugh.

“You should try shutting up,” you chuckle, going back to arranging your floor inventory; moving to the Metal section.

Six rolls around and you’re pulling the sheet music you have for teaching beginners around on the stand. Ellie makes her way up front to gather her things, reaching under the counter and turning the lights down.

A huff leaves you, “Hey, I still have that piano lesson tonight.”

“I know,” she gives you a look, “Have the best time, Birdie,” and she’s out the door. Uh, okay?

Right after Ellie leaves, the doorbell sounds again and you turn to be met with Gojo.

“Gojo, i have a piano less–,” you pause, “There is no piano lesson for a boy named Suguru is there?”

“He’s Suguru,” Gojo motions behind him to the man who called about your doorbell earlier. “And I’m the one who’s here for the lesson.”

Seated at the bench next to him, you can't believe you’re actually going through with this. But if he hadn’t put a deposit down over the phone, you wouldn't have. Clearly Gojo and Ellie had cooked this scheme up somehow. You almost appreciate the effort.

“You don’t seem to need a lesson,” you remark, watching him mimic your motions without even trying.

“Would you be upset with me if I said I didn't?” He starts playing Forever Young on the piano, making your eyes widen.

“Not upset, confused,” your eyes are glued to his hands, fingers flowing effortlessly over the keys.

“Just wanted an excuse to talk to you for longer than a few minutes.” Gojo’s hands keep up the melody.

“You’re not going to let this up are you?” your eyes roll for the millionth time because of this man. He has a way of making your skin crawl in a good way. But again that’s something you’d never admit;

“After I heard that singing voice? Never,” he smiles over at you, continuing to play the song on the keys. “Will you show it to me again? Please, Birdie?”

“If I say yes will you stop asking to buy my grandfather's piano?” fat chance, but you’ll try anyway.

“Scouts honor,” he winks. Huh? That easy? “Or is he just that in love with you?” You can hear Ellie say in your head. Shut up. 

As you begin singing along with his playing, Gojo’s smile grows in size. His hands and arms move effortlessly across the piano, fully impressing you as you watch in awe. The words flow out of you like they did earlier today.

Once you finish, Gojo looks at you like you just told him he’d won the lottery. Not that he needed to win the lottery. “You really have such an amazing voice,” he breathes out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

“I’d call it a good harmonizing voice,” you chuckle. “I sound better with the radio.”

“I’m sorry, was I the only one with ears for the last three minutes? Sug? Cho?” he makes you chuckle next to him as he turns to the men behind him.

“I heard it Sir,” they both said in unison.

“And how did she sound?”

“Lovely, sir.” Suguru says, looking over to you with a friendly smile.

“I have to agree with Suguru,” Choso says, without a smile. He seems to be more of a hardass than the other one. 

“Ah, so you are the delusional one here,” Gojo turns his attention back to you. 

“Shut up. Lesson’s over,” you laugh.

“Aw, but I was just getting started. How about a date then? We can take the rest of this time somewhere else.”

“You would love that wouldn’t you?” leaves you in the form of a laugh.

“Certainly. Cmon, Y/N. I know the best place down the road. Whadya say?”

“I say you’re dreaming,” you stand from the piano bench. Walking over to the light switch, you turn the lights all the way up, making everyone wince at the sight. “And that it's time to wake up, Gojo.”

“I’ll make it so worth your while. Please, just once chance, That’s all I’m asking for,” he stands and makes his way over to you. “Please, Birdie.” he runs his thumb over your cheek, you lean into the touch before you realize what you’re doing.

“If I say yes and I have a horrible time, can I reserve the right to ask you to leave me alone permanently?”

“Of course. I’d swear on it to never show my face in here again. But I promise we won’t have to worry about that. So tonight then?”

“Not tonight, how about tomorrow? After I close for the night?’

“It’s a date,” He smiles. “I’ll pick you up,”

“You mean you’ll all pick me up?” you motion to the guys behind him.

“Nah,” he shakes his head. “They’ll be around, but not with us. I want you to be comfortable.”

“Maybe you should have started with leaving them outside then,” you roll your eyes, “No offense, boys,”

“None taken,” they say in unison again. Gojo snaps his fingers and the men leave.

“You didn’t have to do that,” a chuckle leaves you again. You head for the door but Gojo softly grabs your arm.

“Leave em, I’m heading out anyways,” he slides his grip down your arm until he’s holding your hand, offering a kiss to your knuckles. “Until tomorrow, dear Birdie. He kisses your hand once again, turning to leave.

“B-bye, Gojo.”

“Satoru,”

“If you impress me, then maybe.”

♡ tags: @therealestpussyeater @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @semra4 @manyno @lostfracturess @starlostwish @h0nestly-though @celestie0 @username23345 @lulunx @sukunasdirtylaugh