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stylespresleyhearted · 1 month

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🍻 PUB NIGHT W/ CALLUM TURNER HEAD-CANONS

Warnings: nsfw (minor) but still beware. mentions of callum turner’s wonderful penis, quickies, hickies, and giving him head in a bar bathroom.

This is for all my Callum girlies 🫡 This man has become what I yearn for the past month. I find him absolutely perfect and his accent is sexy and he’s so normal and down to earth and funny and I’m in love. Honestly. Special thanks to all the ladies in my Callum Turner discord chat who talked about how amazing it’d be to be his girlfriend and go to a pub with him. I hope you all enjoy & feel free to come into my ask box to yell about Callum if you feel like doing so.

Masterlist can be found here.

| photo collage created by me.

• See, Callum’s been so busy doing promo for Masters of the Air and he’s been traveling to different cities and landing new roles. You can’t tag along everywhere; you have school or work or both but he makes sure to call you at least every morning and night and in between he’s texting you silly selfies of what he’s doing throughout the day and keeping you updated. Letting you know he’s still thinking of you even when you aren’t with him.

• He leaves Golo, his dog, with you and demands many videos of him on walks and him playing in the park. Talks to him over FaceTime and makes sure to tell him to “listen to your mum.” He’s also jealous he isn’t home to cuddle with the both of you and he tells you so.

• And when he finally comes home? Everyone is eager to catch up and see him and congratulate him on everything he’s been doing so as much as you wanna drag this man to your bedroom and keep him there, he’s an extrovert and he’s got friends and family to catch up with and projects lined up so he’s dragging you to a pub that isn’t too far from where you live.

• Not before you guys sneak in a quickie though. He takes you from the back, bending you over your make up table and blaming you for getting ready in your bra and panties. This man totally thinks you purposely shape your mouth into an ‘o’ shape to tease him when you’re doing your mascara no matter how many times you tell him it’s a universal girl thing.

• Callum hates when you wear matte lipstick because it stains his mouth and no amount of washing off in the loo will get it off. He also doesn’t like when you wear matte lipstick because you only give him pecks as you don’t want it on your teeth or staining your face.

• He doesn’t mind later in the night when you drag him to the restroom and stain his cock with your lipstick though. He loves it when you’re messy while giving him head. He loves an eager girl.

• You two are the last to arrive even though you arranged the time. There’s some goading from your friends who were all waiting for you but honestly they’re used to your tardiness, especially when Callum’s been gone for more than a couple of days.

• During your tryst he left a hickey on your collarbone and you didn’t bother covering it. Not because he’s possessive but because you loved to feel claimed by him. You don’t care if people think you look “dirty.”

• After greeting everyone he leads you over to the bar and while you wait for the bartender to approach you, leaning on the bar top, he’s got one of his large hands cupping your ass. The. Entire. Time.

• He orders a round of shots for everyone to start the night. There’s a football (soccer) game on and he makes sure to score a seat facing the television with you sat right beside him. He’s got his hand on your thigh or when his elbows are on the table and he’s gesticulating during conversation, you wrap your arms around his bicep and lean your chin on his shoulder.

• You love listening to him talk. Love how his accent thickens when he’s around his mates and it only gets worse the more drinks he has. Sometimes you have trouble understanding him but you nod along and pucker your lips for pecks when he looks to you to confirm some part of his story.

• Callum doesn’t care how many kisses you ask for or if others deem you clingy. This man enjoys all the affection and attention you give him, he loves being loved on.

• Honestly it doesn’t take long for him to say ‘fuck it’ and just pull you onto his lap. Hand on your ass/thigh to keep you close to him.

• Him and his friends talk shit to each other, rooting for opposite teams and your content just being in his presence and watching him relax because you know how much work he puts into his craft.

• The more he drinks, the redder his face gets and his chest begins to get splotchy and he starts to get sweaty but he never tries to detach himself from you no matter how hot it gets. You don’t mind the smell of his sweat or if it gets on you and you have a thing for gently nibbling on the tip of his wonderful dumbo ears as his blushed skin progresses. The first time you nibbled on his ear he thought he had to head to the loo to “take care of you”, he thought it was a sign but he soon realized it’s an affection you bestow on him when you’re drinking.

• Callum presses kisses to the hickey he left against your collarbone. Nonchalantly too, not even to draw attention to it just mid listening to a mate talk he’ll lean over to press his lips against it. You think it’s his way of letting you know he’s still attuned to you, even if he’s in conversation with someone else.

• When your friends finally manage to pull you off his lap and onto the dance floor, he stays in his seat but his attention is split between the conversation he’s in and watching you to make sure you’re okay. He trusts you and he’s confident in himself enough to not be overly possessive he just genuinely wants to make sure you’re okay throughout the night. Doesn’t want anyone spilling their drinks on you or assholes who can’t take no getting too close.

• He holds your clutch/your purse for you to make sure you don’t lose any of your items. And he never complains about keeping it safe for you.

• And you appreciate that he trusts you and lets you handle issues on your own, he truly only steps in when the person isn’t accepting ‘no’ as an answer or being a complete creep.

• You’re the opposite. You trust him but as soon as a female gets to close you make sure to stake your claim. Wrapping an arm around him or asking for a kiss, pulling him towards you and saying “come dance with me, babe.”

• He politely excuses himself from whoever was hitting on him and gives you a knowing chuckle.

• As soon as you’re beckoning him over to the dance floor he doesn’t hesitate to join you. He isn’t shy, doesn’t mind two stepping or grabbing a tight hold on your hips when you throw it back on him to a particularly raunchy song.

• He does blush a bit, but it’s hard to tell because he’s already red from the alcohol.

• You can feel the length and the girth of him against your ass when you press against him. His cock is large and thick and you get wet remembering he didn’t wipe your combined come off before he tucked it back into his jeans after your quickie.

• I will not do this man’s cock justice but we know he’s large. Everything about him is big and his penis head is probably fat, and the tip of it a bit crooked because it’s long and for more mouth watering details read Marina’s cock-versation here.

• When you turn to face him his hands immediately fall to your ass, cupping both your cheeks in his large, warm palms. Your arms around his neck, both smiling at one another all dopey and tipsy and in love.

• If there’s karaoke at the bar you both take turns dedicating a song to each other.

• Maybe even perform a duet.

• You don’t smoke so you don’t join him for any of his cigarette breaks but he only heads out after asking if you’ll be okay or if you need anything from him before he heads out.

• He comes back and wraps himself around you, smelling of cigarette obviously, but you tuck your nose into his neck and breathe deep where the smell of pure him still lies. Sweat and musky and the cologne he sprayed on.

• Callum always asks if he can kiss you after smoking because he knows the taste of cigarettes is overwhelming sometimes and you don’t smoke. Sometimes you cringe your face afterwards and it always makes him laugh. He’ll throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you in and say “sorry, love.”

• He doesn’t mind that you take loads of selfies of the two of you or photos of him or videos to keep in your camera roll. He’s always ready with a funny face or a kiss. (Or he flips off the camera - his go to pose.)

• Throughout the night, he continuously tells you how sexy you are, how pretty you look and that he knows he’s a lucky bastard to have you.

• You’re the one always making sure to order glasses of water at the end of the night. He doesn’t get drunk often and he’ll mostly stick to his Guinness, but you’re prone to waking up with hangovers after one beer.

• If you’re refusing water, he has the bar tender pour them in shot glasses and has you thinking it’s liquor. He finds you cute as hell and is watching you with a huge smile the entire time.

• There’s always a detour on the way home - a stop at your favorite pizza spot a block away from your house. If you have any of your friends with you, Callum makes sure to herd all of you like sheep and get food and water in all of you. He listens to the drunk girl conversation and goes along with anything you say.

• Once your home he helps you take off your lashes and your make up. He knows you always complain and feel bad the next morning when you sleep with it on because you break out. If you’re sober enough to do it on your own he’ll just watch you. Not wanting to get in bed until you’re in bed too.

• He makes sure there’s water on your nightstand.

• Throughout the night he’ll end up detaching from you (even though you always follow) but your first sleeping position of the night is always him curled around you as you back into him. He goes to sleep cupping your boobs because he says they keep his hand warm and he likes the feel of them. He’s a man and boobs are fun okay?

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #callum turner fanfic #callum turner au #callum x reader #made by me*#callum turner smut #callum turner fanfiction

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lemonlover1110 · 10 months

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𝐌𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝

Toji Fushiguro

[Chapter 2] Toji's Miserable Attempts to Change Your Mind

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Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You’ve had many plans for your life, but packing your clothes to move out from your apartment– Toji’s apartment, at twenty seven years of age wasn’t one of them. Even though it was your decision, you never thought you’d be getting divorced. You really love Toji, and while part of you really wants to stay, you know you need to leave.

He tries to convince you to stay, loving you the best way he knows how to: having sex. You don’t turn him down even though you probably should since you’re separating. It’s temporary as you move out. You keep each other entertained, as bad as it sounds. He has sex with you to get you to stay and you simply enjoy it.

Things have changed though, a month later you find an apartment that you can afford with the new job that you got. You have some savings from the occasional allowance that Toji gave you (once a month and it couldn’t even buy you a damn loaf of bread), and of course apart from your day job as a receptionist, you’ve gotten a waitressing job during nights. You’re trying your best to save up and move out. You’re not taking care of the house or anything and you’re hoping that maybe that’ll finally get Toji to sign the divorce papers that he refuses to sign.

Toji didn’t expect to come back home to this. You’re grabbing your clothes from the closet and shoving them into a suitcase. There must be a better way to do this all but it seems like you’re in a rush to leave. You don’t seem to notice his presence or at the very least, you ignore it.

“Are you really doing this?” Toji clears his throat and speaks up to catch your attention. You give him a side eye before walking into the closet to get more clothes. Toji really thought for a moment that sex would be enough to get you to stay, you had no problem accepting it anyway; but you’re still packing your stuff, “I hope you know that I won’t support you. You’re doing this because you chose to, I will fight tooth and nail so you don’t get a single penny from me.”

“I don’t want your stupid money.” You’re clearly annoyed and you display it in your tone. You feel underappreciated because he doesn’t care to notice that you’ve been working and that you’ve stopped doing housework. You feel more invisible than ever. Toji watches as you put more stuff into the suitcase, at this point it’s overfilled with clothes. “I have two jobs, Toji. I wasn’t counting on you, I never was.”

“Can’t we talk about this?” Toji asks, and you chuckle but it soon turns into a fit of laughter. Toji crosses his arms and watches as you laugh your heart out, and he wonders what he said that causes such a reaction. A tear streams down your face and you wipe it away, calming down and taking a deep breath.

“We’ve had a month to talk about this, Toji. You just thought that throwing yourself at me would solve all of our problems.” You point out, and he bites his tongue. He ends up sighing, loosening the tie that’s tight around his neck. He takes a seat on your side of the bed, watching as you zip the suitcase close. “Believe it or not, sex doesn’t solve all problems– In fact, for our situation it doesn’t solve anything.”

“You wanted attention and I’m giving it to you.” It’s as simple as that, at least in his mind. You roll your eyes before looking through drawers to get stuff that you bought, items that belong to you and you’re taking to your new place. “I don’t know why you’re so complicated–”

“No, I’m simple! I want a divorce and you won’t give it to me.” You slightly raise your voice. You find a couple items and throw them on the bed before looking for another suitcase. You can’t believe just how complicated Toji is. You get another suitcase, but this one has a couple things in it. You open it and you find a couple CD cases, and you take them out. They don’t belong to you, you don’t have any CDs, so the only reasonable explanation is that they’re Toji’s. You put them aside, but you know you’ll be putting them into your laptop and playing the contents of it later.

You walk back to the bedroom with the suitcase, and throw it on the bed. You begin to throw your stuff in it, and Toji can’t help but watch. He hears as his heart slowly breaks, he just didn’t think that you’d be doing this. You sleep next to him without a problem, and you have no problem giving in to his touch. The first night you told him you still wanted a divorce, but you stayed with him; you still kissed him back, you caressed him, you laughed at his awful jokes (granted not as hard as before). Toji really thought that he had you back, you just needed time.

“How about we… Tomorrow, will you give me a chance? Let’s go out.” Toji doesn’t know what to say. He’s realizing that after you leave, it’ll be hard to see you again. Nothing is tying you down. You’re ignoring him, your eyes focused on organizing the items in the suitcase, something that you didn’t care to do for your clothes. “Just– I promise that I’ll sign the divorce papers without a problem if after tomorrow–”

“Fine. Let’s go out.” You say but you continue packing everything away because you know it’s not going to work. Nothing Toji can do will make you change your mind.

Tossing and turning in your bed leads you to look again for the CDs that you had put aside earlier. You had forgotten about them since your mind was preoccupied with what Toji has planned for tomorrow– Or today since it is past midnight. Toji’s snoring so you’re not too worried about him hearing you get out of the bed, get the CDs, get the laptop, and then go to the living room.

You put the first CD in, the one that has the oldest date. You wait a while for it to boot up, but when it does, you hate the video immediately. His late wife, Toji’s, appears on the screen and she’s so strikingly beautiful; it’s not because of her, she’s a woman that you respect and admire. What you hate is how you see Toji. So happy about the fact that he’s married. Your chest feels heavy and for some reason tears well up in your eyes.

Toji wasn’t this happy when he was getting married to you. You were like her, over the moon and smiling during every minute of the event… Toji on the other hand wasn’t like he’s in this video. He looks so genuinely happy, and so in love with her. You doubt he’s ever looked at you like he looks at her.

You have to skip forward because you take heavy breaths to keep yourself calm. You pause right at Toji’s toast, and while you know that you should skip forward because what he’ll say will shatter you, you keep the video playing. You’re not a woman that usually gets jealous, the fact that you stayed with Toji after his betrayal is telling of that aspect, but when he opens his mouth your hands are shaking. Your whole body shakes due to the immense jealousy that runs through your veins. You have to try your best to hold back your tears when he calls her his soulmate and the love of his life. What really sticks with you is:

I don’t know what I’d do without her, she’s everything to me.

You have to take out the disk because there’s tears running down your face. You’re not mad because he loved someone else, you’re frustrated because he never grew to love you like he loved her. Matter of fact, you’re not sure if Toji even loves you even when he’s been trying to assure you of it lately. You put in the other disk because you just want to know the contents of it. You take a deep breath as you wait for the video to start.

“Is this working?” Toji’s eye is right on the camera, and you chuckle as you watch your husband try to figure out how to work the camera. He finally adjusts the camera and you get to see him, and her as well. She has a cute baby bump and you smile. She sounds so sweet,

“We’re so excited to meet you, baby.” And Toji wraps her arms around her, his hands landing on her baby bump. “What name did you choose again?”

“Megumi. He’s our little blessing.” It’s cute, it’s really cute. It’s so nice to see Toji smile like an idiot, and look how he looks so lovingly at his beloved. He’s so excited to be a father too… The same Toji that told you he didn’t want kids, that in order to get married you had to accept the fact that you wouldn’t have children. He just simply didn’t want them, no other reasoning than that. You wanted kids but you accepted it. Being a mother is something that you’ve always wanted but for Toji you were willing to give that up; additionally, you had Megumi as a stepson and that was sort of enough even when you weren’t supposed to act like his mother.

You’re bawling your eyes out for the rest of the video, even when you’re supposed to smile. Toji kissing his wife’s belly, blushing as she brushes his hair with her fingers. He talks to the baby and is as sweet as ever with her, and you’re comparing yourself to her. You’re wondering why you aren’t enough, why can’t Toji love you? He would never treat you like he treated her, and you don’t mind not being treated the same but Toji doesn’t even try. You’re just an afterthought.

The video ends and you take the disk out again, and you put in the last one. You take a deep breath, wiping away the tears. You knew Toji had a whole life behind you, you shouldn’t care. You’re separating anyway. You laugh seeing a tiny baby Megumi, really nothing like the angsty teen that he is today. A chubby baby, who’s so sleepy.

Toji looks so happy as he holds his son. Over the moon with his baby, and you begin to wonder why Toji doesn’t want kids. Maybe he just wants one woman to be the mother of his kids but since she’s no longer in this world, he doesn’t want to have more. There’s so many cute moments, mostly focused on Megumi. When he learned how to talk, calling Toji dada, and it’s so visible how happy Toji was. Watching as Megumi learned how to walk, you realized something: you’re not willing to give up having a baby for a man that doesn’t love you. You want your own family, one where you’re loved.

You’re tired of not being loved enough, and it causes your heart to ache. A sob leaves your lips and you’re about to shut the laptop when you hear him ask, “Why are you watching that? It’s three in the morning.”

You turn to look at him, the bit of light coming from the laptop illuminates your tears. You want to ask him why you’re not enough, why he chose to marry you, why he doesn’t love you, why he insists on you staying, why he chose you. There’s a lump in your throat and you’re not able to ask him anything though.

“Do you want a baby?” He asks, and you end up nodding in response, wiping away your tears. And he might not want to be a father again but he’s willing to do it all over again if it means that you’ll stay. “We can have one.”

“We’re getting a divorce, Toji.” You remind him before shutting off the laptop. You stand up from the couch and walk back to the bedroom. He walks behind you since he stood up because you weren’t by his side. He has to get used to it though, you’re leaving soon.

“When are you moving out?” He asks.

“In two days.”

Toji makes sure you dress appropriately for your date. It’s supposed to be a surprise, and you’re not exactly too excited to go out with him. No matter what, you’re leaving. You’ve been saving up for this. For the first time, Toji is actually worried that you’re going to be late and he rushes you to leave.

You wonder what you’ll be doing since he’s in such a rush. And then you get to the movie theater. When you’re in the parking lot, you ask, “What movie are we going to watch? The new dolls ones?”

“It’s a surprise.” He responds, turning off the car. He gets out and he rushes to open the door for you but he never does that for you so he can’t do the chilvarious act since you’re already out of the car. He throws his arm over your shoulder as you walk to the entrance. You’re going up to the ticket booth to get the tickets, but Toji has a different idea. He waves at the worker as if they know each other, and you two walk inside the movie theater. “Do you want anything?”

“I guess… A small popcorn.” You’re unsure. Toji never buys anything from the movie theater during the rare occurrence he actually goes. He walks away to get the popcorn while you patiently wait, looking around. You’ll be moving out tomorrow, and that’s the only thought that runs through your mind when you look at him. It makes you want to cry… It’s for your own good, yet you don’t want to go.

“Let’s go.” There’s a small smile on his face when he’s walking over to you. You’re not sure where you’re supposed to go since you don’t have any movie tickets so you have no option but to follow him. You get to an empty auditorium, and he tells you, “Choose where you want to sit.”

You do get excited, even though you told yourself you weren’t going to get excited over anything during this date. You walk to the very top, and he follows you. You begin to munch on your popcorn while watching the previews, and you can’t help but ask, “What movie are we watching?’

“It’s a surprise.” He responds. You try to think of all the movies that are currently being shown, however, none sound interesting enough to draw Toji in. You won’t push it though, you don’t care. You’ll stick around for one bad movie if it means that Toji will finally sign the divorce papers.

You finish eating the small bucket of popcorn before the movie actually begins, and when Toji notices, he’s kind enough to take it from your hands and stand up. Before he leaves though you request, “Could you get me a drink? And some candy?”

“Of course, honey.” He says before walking away. You’ll take advantage of this since you’re leaving soon. Your eyes then go to the screen to look at the previews. You know they’re ending and the theater is deserted which makes you assume that it’s an unpopular movie. You don’t care all that much about it, you’re just hoping that Toji will come back before it starts because you aren’t all that great with summaries.

When it does start, he’s still gone. You make sure to pay attention so you’ll be able to explain at the best of your ability. You begin to realize how familiar this movie feels– You try to recollect your thoughts, trying to remember all the movies you’ve watched and then it hits you. You watched this movie years ago with Toji during your first official date.

You’re overflowing with emotions lately. Maybe it’s because a divorce isn’t an easy process, especially when Toji wants you to stay and you love him so much. You’re tearing up watching the beginning of the movie, and your glossy eyes are so focused on the screen that you don’t realize Toji has come back with everything you’ve asked and more.

“Everything okay?” He asks, and you nod in response. You smile at him.

“You remember.” You say as you take the popcorn and drink from him, allowing him to keep the other stuff.

“Of course I do.” He responds. Years ago you came to watch a movie but instead, you did anything but watch the movie. In your defense, you tried to but it wasn’t all that entertaining especially when you had Toji next to you. Your heart softens as you realize that he did this for you.

“How much did this cost?” You question, feeling bad because you know what’ll happen next. His efforts are in vain.

“Not much.” He tries to play it off. Toji isn’t a man that saves up a lot of money, and while this didn’t cost a lot, it costed the little amount of money Toji had saved up.

The scene is about to play out like it did in the first time. He cups your face and pecks your lips, “Any price is worth it when it comes to you.”

It’s not much effort either, but his words and his actions are making you reconsider even when you had set your mind to leaving. But then you remember how happy he was in those videos, how he called her his soulmate. Toji can’t do that with you, at least he hasn’t in the five years that you’ve been together, and you doubt that he will if you stay. If you decide to stay, it’ll take a week for Toji to go back to being himself. And while he offered to start a family with you, you know it won’t end well.

“Toji…” You begin, your voice nearly breaking. You slowly blink, trying to hold back your tears. He knows what’s coming as he stares at your face.

“If this is about having kids, I told you I’d have one with you.” He reminds you. You take a deep breath, trying to gather all the words you need.

“But you don’t want one. We’re not having a kid to try and save this marriage. That’ll just end up horrible. You won’t love my baby and I’ll have to raise them by myself.” You point out. “Toji… All I want is for someone to love me, and have my own family. You once had that and… You know how it feels. I want to start over with someone else as fast as I can.”

You have to look away because just looking at Toji makes you want to burst into tears. Your heart holds so much sadness, and the last person you want it to unfold with is Toji.

“I know you don’t know how it feels like to be unloved by someone you hold dear to your heart, but let me tell you, it fucking sucks.” You try to chuckle as tears run down your face. You’re not sure why. Maybe you want to disguise your tears, but it’s a horrible cover up. “If I stay, everything will go back to how it usually is within a week. I just want to start over and not be a placeholder for anyone.”

“That’s not how this is, baby. I love you.” He tries to assure you but your mind just replays the video of how happy and in love he looked when he was with her. He’ll never look at you like that, and thinking about it breaks your heart. You deserve someone like that.

You give him the popcorn before standing up. You weakly smile at him, and you’re about to mutter an apology to him but you end up biting your tongue. He doesn’t deserve one. He chose this. Out of the two of you, you’re the one deserving of an apology. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

You leave to go to the bathroom to fix your makeup and try to watch the movie. Maybe you’ll finally grasp the plot of this movie the second time around– You also really want that candy. You look in the mirror and try to smile at yourself. Your makeup isn’t all that bad, just tear stains ruining your foundation.

It hurts to see him try so hard but you wonder why he’s trying. You’re not the woman he loves, and the man also seems to not care for housework all that much because he hasn’t noticed how your apartment is a damn mess. Maybe Toji does love you… But you shake the thought out of your head because it’s ridiculous.

There’s a tap on your shoulder and you turn to see what looks like a teenage girl. You raise your eyebrows and she asks, “Do you have a pad or tampon I could use?”

“Uh… Yeah.” You search in your purse for the pad that you keep in case of emergencies, and when you find it, you hand it to her. She thanks you before going into one of the stalls, and you focus on finishing up your makeup.

You freeze, the brush in your hand falling into the sink when you realize something that’s so very important.

You’re late.

#toji x y/n #toji zenin #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #daddy toji #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji x you #dilf toji #toji fushiguro x you #toji fanfic #toji fic

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ohdeerfully · 3 months

Note

Hii! I really like your work :3

Can you do demon alastor and his goth human girlfriend comfort scenarios? :D

hii! i hope i did some justice, i dont know much about alternative subcultures (,: i tried something new, with some bulleted headcanons and a oneshot afterwards! thank you so much for the request! <3

How to Summon an Overlord

Alastor x Goth!Reader (fluff) TW: mentions of animal death/taxidermy

join my discord!

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Alastor definitely appreciated the goth aesthetic

He lived in Hell, yeah, but a lot of the style there was more punk or grunge. Not that he even knew what these words meant but he could visually tell the difference

Similarly, you adored his red color scheme. You thought it complimented your black extremely well

He wasn’t particular about the music, it wasn’t quite his taste, but he didn’t mind listening as long as it was with you. He could manage to enjoy what you enjoyed

You typically conjured him into your world two or three times a week. You weren’t a busy person, but he was a busy demon

You typically spent a while before seeing him getting into a full goth getup, perfecting your white foundation and sharp eyeliner for what felt like hours

He would assure you that it wasn’t necessary, but wasn’t overbearing about it. He knew some people just liked to get dressy

He did kind of like knowing that you were so excited to see him and show yourself off to him though

The dates you shared with him were… untraditional, to say the least

He enjoyed taking you out deep into the forest to explore and find bones and such to add to your collection at home. You were brave alone, but before meeting him never dared going as far in as you two did. There was so much you had been missing out on

He would never tell you, but when you weren’t looking he would use some of his powers–which were much weaker in the human realm than in Hell–to quickly catch and kill a small rodent if you were having no luck. He knew you’d probably get upset with him about the morality of it

Even though you’re literally dating a demon

So like. What morality

“I was a hunter in my life,” He had said when you caught him standing over the corpse of a deer. “I know how to… track them. When they’re dying.”

You loved that sinister grin of his. You never knew what was really going on behind it, but you found that and his glowing red eyes so… attractive. Oddly enough

At-home concerts were a must. As stated earlier, he wasn’t a huge fan of your taste in music, but he would never admit it. He did his best to follow in your steps and you swung your arms and sang out to your song of choice

He forced you to dance along with him to some jazz, too, of course. He left you no option for that

Baking was probably the most normal thing you two did together

He didn’t like sweets at all, but he liked shaping the dough into little themed cookies

He also loved helping you dye your hair; so much so that the second your roots started showing signs of your natural hair color he was the first to point it out

He loved being able to sit behind you and run his fingers and work the dye into every strand of hair. He didn’t care if it stained his fingers

Gifts weren’t very common from him, but you could tell that when he did get you something, a lot of thought went into it

Recently he had given you a dainty black chain with the most beautiful, glimmering blood-red ruby dangling off of it

You always asked him about what Hell was like. You asked and asked and asked, so many questions. And he was happy to talk your ear off in return

Part of him wanted to convince you to choose a sinner’s path, to join in him Hell. Honestly, he had a feeling you would if he simply asked. You seemed genuinely devoted to him

But, at the same time, the other part of him did care about you in a way that didn’t want to see you stuck in that place. Even with him

That was something he’d think about later

You were always so upset when it was time to exorcise him back to Hell. Harsh words, but it was just technicality

You clung onto his fingers for longer than you needed to. You knew he’d be back in a few days, but you had begun to feel increasingly lonely in the time between his visits

He would give you an affirming squeeze on the shoulder, and rest his chin against the top of your head for a moment before you performed the ritual

He kept in contact with you through the haunted radio you met him through, of course, a daily meeting that had become routine

═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

You loved antique shopping.

Especially when you end up with your own little haunted radio.

Especially when that radio had the smoothest voice, with the most peculiar and out of date accent. It was charming. And, it knew your name.

You sighed as you stroked your fingers down your cat’s back, smiling softly as it arched into your touch. Your legs were crossed in front of you, sporting a comfortable and fuzzy skull-patterned pair of pajamas. Your eyes kept flicking expectantly to that old radio, and you were growing impatient. You hadn’t heard from the demon haunting it all day, and you were growing lonely.

It felt incredibly surreal and peculiar, feeling ghosted by a literal ghost. Or demon. Or monster. Or whatever it was.

You weren’t really a lonely person, preferring to stay inside–enjoying the comfort of your cat and a good song or show as you practiced tattoo flashes on the kit you bought yourself as a birthday present. But you had grown fond of that voice, as strange as it may seem. And you believed he had grown fond of you as well, what with the pet names he had begun referring to you as.

A crackle of that radio made you jump to your feet, which startled your cat. You quickly ducked down to apologize and rub behind his ears before scampering over to the coffee table and crossing your legs as you sat in front of it. You couldn’t help the smile that beamed across your face.

“Little bat,” The voice practically sang. You rested your head on your hands, careful to avoid a fresh piercing you had given yourself earlier in the day. “Sorry, I’ve been quite busy with my duties down here.”

You sighed, a childish grin playing across your face. “I was beginning to think you forgot about me. After all that work I did repairing you.”

“Darling, I would sooner redeem myself in heaven than forget about you.” Your brow quirked at his statement.

“Isn’t heaven like… all sun and happiness and grandeur.”

“You’d be surprised.”

You let the conversation end there. You couldn’t get over that voice of his. Maybe it was the combination of the accent and the filter of the radio over it, but you just knew this demon had to be a handsome one. Though, you had considered the idea of him being some sort of terrifying, eldritch horror. You could probably get behind it, honestly.

You purse your lips in thought, fantasizing about seeing the owner of the voice.

“Why haven’t you told me your name yet?” You asked him. A few seconds passed by.

“How incredibly rude of me!” He announced, and he sounded genuinely upset with himself. “I forgot my manners, I truly never expected this radio to be touched again. I’m Alastor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” You laughed a bit, playing along with the formality. You reached forward and brushed a settlement of dust near the base of the mesh cover.

“Hey,” You said slowly. You continued after he responded with a hum of curiosity. “I have a bunch’a books on like… summoning demons. And stuff. Do you know if…” You trailed, hoping that he was catching the idea.

He did catch on, and you heard an amused chuckle.

“I’ve never thought about it,” Alastor admitted. “I’ve been too busy down here to really care about visiting the human world.” Even through the filter of static, you could tell his curiosity was piqued. And you were suddenly very, very excited.

“Stay here,” You jumped up without a second thought and scampered into your room. You had a cabinet full of small antiques and trinkets, from cute bunny figures to reptile skulls. You gingerly opened a lower drawer, careful not to knock anything over, and rummaged through an old storage of books you didn’t often touch.

While you were in your room, you quickly swiped on basic makeup. There was no way you had time to do a full face, you felt that you were risking it already even putting a little bit on. You teased your hair and threw on a simple outfit, layering some jewelry over it. If you were going to summon a whole-ass demon in your house, you wanted to at least look hot. Obviously.

You hurried out back into your living room. You felt a little nervous as you neared the radio, which had gone quiet. Usually, when Alastor was connected, there was a garble of frequency that announced his presence.

You skimmed your fingers across the mesh and, nearly instantly, he was back. You wondered if he felt any physical connection to the thing. You decided to ask him about it later. You gently picked up the radio and traveled into your basement.

It was the perfect ambience for this type of thing. A bit dreary, empty, cold… You really only used the basement for storage, so the air was thick with dust and stagnant oxygen.

“Okay. I got a couple books on different ways I could go about this. I should have all the candles and salt and stuff…” You flipped through the pages, muttering as you set out different books on methods of evocation that seemed interesting around you, your legs crossed comfortably.

He hadn’t said much since you mentioned summoning him to your realm. You began to wonder if this was a good idea. Were you jumping the gun? Was he actually as interested in you as you were in him? Did he want to see you?

You suppose he noticed the long pause in your mumbling, because he finally spoke.

“Find anything, (Y/N)?” You smiled at his question. You took that as a good enough sign that he was interested.

“I found some… I just hope one of them works.” Alastor simply hummed in response.

You carefully drew a symbol on the concrete floor, hand dripping with white paint. Your arm was pressed against your chest to keep your stack of necklaces from dragging along the ground you kneeled down on. Your eyes flicked back and forth between your work and the book, trying to make it as perfect as possible.

Alastor hummed a little tune as you laid out the necessary candles. A few white ones dotted the formed circle, for “purification and spiritual protection” the book said. You figured it wouldn’t hurt, just in case Alastor did end up being some hideous monster. You crossed your fingers.

“Okay…” You said slowly, standing up to examine your work. You bent over to pick up the book you followed. You also carefully placed Alastor’s radio in the center of the symbol you drew. “Get ready.”

You read over the words a few times before trying out the chant.

You must’ve done it just right, because as soon as the words began tumbling from your mouth, a wind manifested and twirled around the circle you had created. Amazingly, the candles remained lit.

The lace on your clothes billowed in the wind, and your hair blew into your eyes. You furrowed your brows in an attempt to stay focused and kept your eyes on the paragraph. You could see that radio slightly glowing out of your peripheral.

A flash of light concluded the chant, and your eyes squeezed shut at the unexpected shine. You had thrown your arm over your head, and carefully began to peek under your elbow as the wind settled.

The candles, save for the white ones, had all gone out and the room smelled heavily of the smoke that curled from the extinguished wicks. And, in the center of the circle, the radio was gone.

And a demon sat in its place.

He was sitting, arms catching himself on the ground and a puzzled look on his face. The transition between realms obviously wasn’t the smoothest ride, but he quickly gained composure and stood up, brushing off his clothes.

The first thing you noticed was how tall he was. How he loomed over you, even from a couple feet away. The next was those piercing, dangerous red eyes of his as he made eye contact with you. And then his lips curled up in a wide, yellow grin.

“A pleasure to finally meet you in person, little bat, quite a pleasure,” He said with a dramatic bow. You were too stunned to speak, simply looking up at him with your mouth agape.

You realized that radio filter over his voice wasn’t exclusive to the radio itself, because his voice cracked with it as he spoke to you. You swallowed your intimidation and stepped towards him. He wasn’t a disgusting tentacle monster, which was awesome. He was actually… incredibly handsome. Lucky you.

“It’s… so good to finally meet you, too,” you said. You reached a hand out towards him. His eyes followed your movement carefully, smile twitching and eyebrows narrowing as he considered your hand.

Your hand was stopped at the edge of the circle he had been summoned in. Some invisible barrier prevented you from getting any closer. You both looked down at your hand, and then back up at each other.

You laughed, breathlessly and nervously. After all that work, you couldn’t even get any closer to him.

“Those candles, (Y/N),” Alastor explained with a teasing grin. You looked down at the white candles that still had their flame. You cursed yourself briefly.

“I was, uh, a little nervous. That’d you’d be, like, you know…”

“A hideous, slimy monster?”

“Yeah.”

Alastor laughed down at you. “My dear…” His voice was suddenly incredibly menacing, the scratching of his radio-like ambience becoming more aggressive. You felt a cold sweat run down your spine. As fast as the tone changed, though, it was normal again. His voice was light with humor once again. “You have absolutely nothing to worry about!”

You stooped down towards a candle to snuff it, but a quick rap from the demon’s cane halted you. You slowly craned your head up to look at him.

“You wouldn’t want to upset the delicate balance of a seance, my bat,” He said smoothly. “You can fix it next time. I should be going, I wasn’t expecting this… I have some things to do back in Hell.”

Next time, you thought, a tight feeling in your chest. You were incredibly excited at that idea, and it helped you not feel so bad about the short visit from Alastor. You nodded at him before turning around and fishing through the book for a banishment spell.

“I’ll… see you later then,” You said after finding the page. You pressed your hand against the invisible barrier again, to which he followed and pressed his own on the opposite side. You examined those long fingers of his. He smiled down at you. His expression was strange and unreadable.

“Until next time.”

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #goth reader #ohdeerfully

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beskarandblasters · 3 months

Text

As Long As I Have You

Jackson Era!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: My entry for the Space Sisters Discord Valentine’s exchange! Hope you like it @joels-shitty-puns ❤️

Summary: It’s yours and Joel’s first Valentine’s Day in Jackson and he wants to do something special. So he enlists the help of Ellie to distract you all day while he prepares his big surprise.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, very light angst, drinking, kissing, super fluffy ending

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Joel Miller is not one for grand displays of affection. He shows his love in simple ways such as holding you tight as you’re lying in bed together or saving the last bit of coffee for you, things like that. So when it comes to things like Christmas, your birthday, or even… Valentine‘s Day he flounders, never knowing what to get you to show you how much he loves you. That’s exactly what’s happening now in what will be your first Valentine’s Day in Jackson together.

After he met you in Kansas City almost a year and a half ago at this point, you quickly weaseled your way into his heart, unbeknownst to him. He’s not one for love. He’s not one for caring about other people. His “relationship” with Tess was a business partnership turned sexual, with no strings attached (at least out loud anyway). But you and Ellie made him realize what he missed most in this cruel world; people to look after and love. And that’s why he wants to show you how much he loves you.

He spends the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, planning out in his mind what he’ll do. It’s still winter so picking flowers is a no. There’s not exactly a mall down the street where he can buy chocolates or purchase a necklace. Fuck, what do people even do for Valentine’s Day? It’s been years since he properly celebrated. Maybe he can cook you a nice meal? He’ll want it to be a surprise but that’s hard to pull off when you two are basically attached at the hip. He’ll need help if he wants this to actually be a surprise.

So he turns to Ellie.

It’s two days before Valentine’s Day. He and Ellie are walking home from the dining hall while you’re at the stables tending to the horses, a rare moment where you’re not around so he can ask Ellie for a favor.

“I need help,” he says.

“What kind of help?”

“Y’know… Valentine’s Day is coming up and-”

“Gross,” she snorts, turning and looking at Joel, expecting there to be an amused expression on his face. But to her surprise, there’s not. “But continue.”

“I want to do something special.”

“I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

“I’m not but… she deserves something nice.”

“For putting up with your ass? Yeah, I’d say so,” she laughs, turning to look at him again. But again no amusement from him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Distract her while I make dinner all day.”

“Got it,” she nods, “Distract her how?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” he chuckles, opening the front door to his house.

He and Ellie sit at his kitchen table, feeling full from a meal at the dining hall. It’s silent for a moment while Joel ponders what exactly he’s going to make for you. What kind of post-apocalyptic dinner screams romance? Well for one, he could ask Tommy for a bottle of wine from the Tipsy Bison. He could ask Maria if she’s got any spare candles to set the mood. And he can probably go out and hunt something, perhaps a deer or rabbit. Maybe pair whatever he catches with a side of roasted vegetables. It’s all coming together in his head.

“Well, if you don’t need me anymore, I’m gonna go out with my friends,” Ellie says, getting up from her chair.

“Sure.”

“What time do you need me on the day of?”

“Around noon so and have her back by dinner time.”

“Jeez.”

“I have to make sure I have everything right, okay?” he sighs.

“Right right. Master chef Joel Miller is gracing our presence that day. Gotta make sure we’re all ready,” she jokes.

“Alright. Alright. Get outta here,” Joel says, slumping down further into his chair as Ellie leaves. Tomorrow, he’ll ask Tommy and Maria about the wine and candles. But in the meantime, he needs a drink. For a man who’s fought clickers, crossed the entire country with Ellie, and took out an entire hospital of Fireflies he’s so nervous for something as mundane as a Valentine’s Day dinner.

It’s the big day, Valentine’s Day in Jackson. Ellie asked you the day before if you could help her get her own Valentine’s Day surprise ready. Though, she won’t tell you or Joel who it’s for…

But that’s beside the point. He’s gotta get going on his plan. The wine and the candles are secured, hiding somewhere in the house where he didn’t think you’d find them. His meal is ready to be prepared and cooked. And after he’s done with the food, he’ll tidy up the house as best as he can. As he starts his day he wonders what exactly Ellie has planned to keep you distracted.

“So what is it that you need?” you ask.

“I, uh, wanna make a Valentine’s Day card.”

“Sure, that sounds like fun! Should we go back to Joel’s or-”

“No!” Ellie says a bit too loudly, “We’ll go to the dining hall.”

“Okay,” you nod, leading her there.

Maria has a table set up in the dining hall with papers, pens, pencils, paint— practically whatever art supplies were left over from before the outbreak. But she also has some homemade paint made from plant and vegetable dyes. It's a special thing for the holiday that Jackson does every year to make Valentine’s Day feel at least a little bit normal during these trying times.

You and Ellie sit across from each other, picking out what art supplies you want to use for your cards. You hadn’t thought too much about Valentine’s Day until Ellie brought it up. You just assumed you and Joel would spend the day together but you’re also happy to help Ellie out. It’s cute that she has a Valentine of her own even though she won’t tell you who it is.

“So who’s the special someone?” you ask, folding a piece of paper for your card.

“A person,” Ellie says nonchalantly.

“Well, we know that,” you snort. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

She nods, resigning back to drawing her card. You try to take a peek at what she’s writing but it looks like she’s drawing a few plants, no name written yet. You keep your card simple on the front, drawing a heart and writing “To my valentine, Joel”.

But on the inside, you try your best to draw a silhouette of you and Joel sitting on a bench. The drawing is from behind and you’re resting your head on his shoulder. Ellie looks up from her card and steals a glance at yours.

“He’ll love that,” she says.

“You think?” you ask, holding it up to show her your progress.

“I do,” she smiles, looking down at her card. Still no name written on it yet.

You go to finish the inside, writing “Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel. As long as I have you, I’ll always be happy” followed by your name.

You notice that Ellie’s taking an exceptionally long time on her card, painting the flowers she drew. She must really be trying to impress someone. Eventually, her card is done and you assume this is where you part ways. But she says, “Alright, let’s go to the stables.”

“S-Sure,” you say, a bit surprised. You rise from your chair and hand your cards to Maria, who’s letting you keep them at the dining hall to dry before heading to the stables.

For some reason, you expect for this to be where Ellie gives her Valentine her card. But instead, you spend what feels like hours tending to the horses and the other livestock, giving the baby animals extra love. As you pet one of the new lambs, you wonder what Joel’s up to.

Joel’s plan is going to shit. He burned the rabbit and the vegetables. He found a tablecloth in the closet, presumably from the previous owners of this house, but he spilled red wine all over it. And to make matters worse, he caught it on fire slightly with one of the candles that tipped over. But he put it out before it spread any further.

The only thing that’s going his way is cleaning the house and even then, the kitchen’s still a disaster. You’ll be home in less than an hour and all he has is spilled wine, burnt dinner, a dirty kitchen, and a ruined tablecloth.

“Alright we can go now,” Ellie says right around dinner time.

“Okay. What now?” you ask.

“We’ll go get our cards. And then you should probably go home to Joel.”

“What about you?”

“I’m gonna go… deliver my card.”

“Good luck, Ellie. I’m sure whoever it’s for will love it,” you tell her, looking her in the eye and putting a hand on her shoulder. She looks away and mutters a “thanks” before walking with you back to the dining hall.

It’s packed inside, filled with all the couples of Jackson. You and Ellie grab your cards and prepare to part ways for the evening. But before she goes she blurts out, “Wait! I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” you say, facing her again.

“There is no valentine.”

“Oh?”

“I lied. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I still had fun spending the day with you,” you reassure her.

She sighs and says, “Just… When you go home it’ll all make sense,” before turning and walking down the street.

You shake your head, wondering what sort of shenanigans she has planned for you at home. But you’re just excited to see Joel and give him his card.

Except when you head inside, it smells… like something died in here.

“Jeez, Joel. Did a bomb go off in here?” you joke, taking off your shoes in the entryway.

He doesn’t respond and you don’t see him yet either. You take off your coat and grab the card from the pocket before turning into the kitchen to find Joel, sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands.

“What happened?!” you say, pulling up a chair next to him.

“I just… I tried doing something nice for you but it all went wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I burned dinner. I spilled the wine. And the tablecloth almost went up in flames,” he says, gesturing to the mess before him.

“Oh, Joel…” you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into your chest, “It’s the thought that counts.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “You just deserve something special.”

You pull back, look him in the eye, and say, “As long as I have you, I’ll always be happy.”

“You mean that?”

“Swear on my heart,” you say, reaching for his hand and squeezing it, “And besides it’s not a total loss… You didn’t spill all the wine,” you add with a chuckle.

That gets a laugh out of him and he smiles for the first time today, a sight you’ll never get sick of seeing. He reaches forward and hands you a glass of wine before grabbing his own.

“I have something for you,” you tell him.

“Oh no, you’re about to make me feel worse,” he sighs.

“It’s nothing crazy,” you say, holding up the card.

He takes it in his hands and reads your note, admiring the drawing.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says after a beat, setting the card down on the table.

“Well now you’re just talking crazy,” you laugh, holding up your glass of wine to clink with his.

He laughs too, holding up his glass of wine and tapping it against yours.

“I love you,” he says, taking a sip.

“I love you, too,” you say.

And for a moment, you two sit there, leaning against each other and enjoying the stillness. But eventually, you hear his stomach growling so you laugh and say, “Should we go to the dining hall? I was in there earlier and the food smelled pretty good…”

“Might as well,” he sighs, standing from his chair.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your temple before whispering another “I love you”. And with that, you two walk hand in hand, ready to enjoy your first Valentine’s Day in Jackson together.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal joel miller #pedrostories #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #SpaceSistersSecretValentine

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morbific-or-felicific · 1 year

Text

You were settled between your boyfriend's thighs with his cock in your mouth while he played games on his computer. Whenever he lost a round, you could hear him shouting at his teammates before muting himself and tangling his hand in the back of your hair as he began fucking your mouth. Whenever you were bored, you would just start slowly bobbing your head while he played, and he couldn’t do a single thing about it until the round was over. However, when the round did end, he would force your mouth all the way to the base of his cock and hold you there while you choked and gagged.

If he was just talking with his friends before a round, strategizing or just catching up, his hand would be holding your hair and moving you up and down his cock, occasionally pausing when he needed to think.

His friends always knew what was happening, not because Xiao forgot to mute himself once or because he was bad at suppressing his moans, but because he told them. Well, realistically, he bragged about it. All of his friends were single, so naturally, they were already jealous of his sweet, pretty, bimbo of a girlfriend. So when he told them about how you ‘give him support’ during games, they all wanted to see so badly.

The first time they had lost a round due to Xiao being distracted by you, despite him telling you not to move while he was actively playing, he switched the call to his phone and flipped the camera so his friends could watch him fuck your face. They were all definitely jerking off to the sight of you in your underwear with makeup running down your face as Xiao fucked you until he came on your face.

Unfortunately, at least one of his friends knew how to record people’s screens, so by this point, they all had multiple videos of you getting face fucked and came on.

Xiao hadn’t asked the first time he had shown you off to the boys, but, thankfully for Xiao, you told him you didn’t mind. Because of course you didn’t mind, you were perfect. You told him that as long as they didn’t show videos of you to anyone, you would be okay with it. And they didn’t share the videos with anyone outside of his little friend group. They even kept the videos saved on discord, not in their phones. They had a special channel just for you.

His friends were baffled with how Xiao had managed to land you. You were beautiful, supposedly smart, and were willing to do basically anything he wanted you to. Xiao was so happy that you had, as he put it, settled for him, because he knew what he was like. He had anger issues, whenever he got really into a new game, you had to fight him to get him to shower, and he was always wanting to fuck you and show you off. But really, you didn’t see it as settling at all. You genuinely liked him, and you didn’t get why he practically refused to understand that.

His refusal that you actually liked him for him did actually work in Xiao’s favour, whether he knew it or not. It made you want to do anything he wanted, in the hopes that he would realize how much you like him.

But you loved him, and you loved when he asked you to come over to his apartment to give him ‘support’ while he played his games.

Tag List: @lilia-sspouse @but-a-peach @stannazuna @yourlocal-bunny @lordbugs @randomlycockroach @licensedsimp @leena-shi @cesimaaa @welpthisisfine @dainself-when-playable @fic-rebloga @bubblyxdolly @wanderin-stories @iwysbellez @k4ze3e @kenmabfasf

Join The Tag List

#mae’s column🍵*•̊ⴰ✧#mae.melts🧊*•̊ⴰ✧#xiao.❣︎•*✧ ̊ⴰ #this took so long for me to get to but i love him and i think it’s definitely something #this totally wasn’t self indulgent at all i don’t know what you’re talking about #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #female reader

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 1 month

Text

04/17/24 Daily OFMD Recap

== Nathan Foad ==

More pictures of Nathan in Love's Labours Lost!

== Kay Buchanan ==

Our friendly neighborhood OFMD Master Leather Worker has more pictures for us! This time, maybe Black Pete's bag? Anyone know off hand?

SRC: Kay Buchanan's IG

== Taika ==

So these pictures are adorable, but be warned of a potential jump scare if you watch the rest of the video-- thank you @ofmd-ann for the awesome stills, I did NOT want to put the full video on here xD See her post here.

(via Ritas tiktok)

== Lesley Fucking Jones ==

== Vico Ortiz ==

Sneaky shot of Vico from behind <3 Img Src: @enbybruje's IG

== Dominic Burgess ==

Technically this would be Cats & Crew but I'll allow it because Dominic is such a friggn adorable cat dad and he deserves so much love for that.

Src: Dominic's Twitter

== Watch Parties ==

= Flight of the Conchords =

Bit of an adjustment at least on the RhysDarbyFaction discord server for FotC watch party, we'll be watching 3 episodes a piece Thursday and Friday so as not to run into the next week. Continues tomorrow with episodes 5, 6, 7, of season 2 at 4pm PT / 7 pm ET / 11pm BST

#FlagOfTheConchords

#OurFlagMeansDeath

= Palm Royal Season 1 =

A new watch party hosted by @lcwebsxoxo on twitter is up and running! Thursday Episodes 3 and 4 will be playing at 1 pm PT / 4 pm ET / 9 pm BST

#PalmRoyale

#OurFlagMeansDeath

#SaveOFMD

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Tonight's cast card features the other fisherman (Pedro Lope) that Stede robbed on his first "raid". We're gonna have a whole set of cards soon I can feel it @melvisik, thank you for these!

= TealOranges & Garlic Soup Week 2024!! =

Prompts are up for this years TealOranges & Garlic Soup Prompt Week! The week will run June 23-29, 2024 with themes and prompts for each day! This prompt week celebrates all things Jim/Oluwande and Archie/Jim/Oluwande/Zheng!

Plain Text for Prompts

Additional Information & FAQ

This Years AO3

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies-- I've had 3 hrs sleep today so the words on the screen are starting to run together. I'm still getting love notes from yesterdays request, and thank you so much, I promise i'm catching up to the messages, you all are the best crew someone could ask for. Thank you for spreading some joy in this crazy ass world.

Tonight I would like to send a reminder that we have not lost OFMD, as so many of said, we still have 2 wonderful seasons, and those boyfriends are currently boinking their way into oblivion in their inn, making their poor customers insane. But beyond that... had a discussion today with multiple dear friends / crewmates that made me feel a lot better about the whole thing too. I know it's months in the gravy basket now, but this is not the end for OFMD. Chaos Dad told us it was over, but in all honesty it still doesn't feel over. WBD is driving itself into the ground, Dad's been off at the WBD lot, it feels like things are moving in a better direction again. It may not be today, or tomorrow, or even the next few months, or a year or so, but I think we still have a chance to see the ending of our story.

And we've all said it before, but it bears repeating, even if it never happens, we get to make it happen. Stede and Ed live on in all our crazy ranges of work out there, that so many of you have been just CRANKING out lately, I've been astonished at how much new work I've seen from folks in the the fandom I know, and new folks I haven't met! It's so inspiring to see OFMD affect people so much that they felt they could put little pieces of themselves out into the world through art of all mediums.

I hope I'm making sense at this point.. if not, sorry about that! But know-- there's always hope. There's always S1 and S2, and the infinite universes we get to dream up from those two.

Rest Well lovelies. Img Src: @Chucklesandbleu on IG

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme - Bowties!

Gifs Courtesy of @fandomsmeantheworldtome and @sam-reid!

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #taika waititi #kay buchanan #nathan foad #vico ortiz #dominic burgess #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #long live ofmd #adopt our crew

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aconflagrationofmyown · 1 year

Text

but then… Gigi

chapter one (a Big Daddy Elvis fanfic)

Summary: this is a fix-it universe to catch all the feelings I have for this man in the late 70’s. It’s gonna be my least impressive, least dramatic, very plotless, indulgently meandering and self soothing fic that fixes all things through *love* -it’s gonna be so fluffy we might as well cure cancer and invent time travel while we are at it. That being so, and after all the joy that has come from y’all’s interactive prompts and suggestions with Sarge, I welcome any suggestions or prompts y’all might have as this universe expands. I hope you enjoy and this can provide a sweet little escape 🌷💋

Warnings: 18+ this universe is and will be mature due to sexual themes and drug mentions. In this chapter there are discussions about attractiveness, hinted unwanted advances in the past, some mild possible objectification, talking of weight gain and sugar babies, female masturbation with non orthodox self pleasure tools (and cherry coke didn’t come out for another two years shhh)

Special thanks to: my sugar babies @stylespresleyhearted whose pure hearted love for this concept is responsible for its very existence in the first place and her co-conspirator @eliseinmemphis . And as always, to my discord wives who forever back up all my endeavors and fuel my fire @ab4eva @elvisabutler @butlersxbirdy

Circa: early summer 1977, Memphis Tennessee

Word count: an astoundingly moderate 5k

There is a set and type of girls most likely to catch the eye of the most internationally famed rock star on the planet, and it isn’t self pity or self deprecation that makes Gigi acknowledge that she doesn’t quite fit that type. She considers it good fortune enough to run in circles that boast a number of the brazen, flirty and seemingly fearless young sort who can traipse up to Elvis Presley’s sleek Stutz window and, bending themselves over an unnecessary but effectively exposing amount, extract from him a cheeky invitation to a Graceland party.

Elvis is fond of this type, their vivacity and their audacity, even their ceaseless giggles and yes, the availability they clothe themselves with. They remind him of those girls who’d nearly break down his motel door in the early years. The ones that used to scare him shitless even as he fell prey to their perfume and painted lips, their milky soft hands sporting red hot talons that often as not hooked him down to hell with them.

As of late, he finds himself accepting any damn company he can get, after months of pushing company away. It’s a cycle and when he’s fresh outta reclusion he finds he’s probably a little liberal with the invites but it doesn’t matter. He’s still relieved and gratified that he is wanted and loved enough by his fellow Memphians that they’ll accost him on the street, lean into his window, all bubblegum and boobs, and ask for autographs and if he’s interested in some company.

He may be slowing down here lately, as his body and mind and the newspapers remind him constantly, but pretty young things are still one of life’s sweet pleasures, and even if he can’t give as much as he used to, at this rate he’s glad for anyone who’ll drag him out of the slump. Even if he’s more of a museum sort of attraction for them than the living wonder they once claimed he was. Maybe it’s this morbid understanding of these little floozie’s motivations that has him grinning along and offering a free invite for game night, all the while glancing past them to where she stands at a distance behind the giggling gaggle. Her limbs are strong but soft, her face beguiling yet oh so innocent and her posture is leant forward in unscripted eagerness to maybe catch a glimpse of him past her gaggle of friends. She has her hands clasped nervously in front of her -unconsciously highlighting the way the wind whips her thin sundress between her thighs and outlines her perfectly- and it’s adorable the way her sensible keds are scuffing the sidewalk rhythmically until she feel his gaze on her.

The minute Gigi senses his authoritative assessment of her over those tinted shades, her pretty little brain makes her snap to attention, aimless for a minute before falling back on ingrained rules of conduct. She has no seductive artifice, no hip cock or calculated smirk. Gone is the sneaker scuffing and the lip chewing and instead her back snaps straight up like a debutant, feet planted, hands unclasping, shoulders back and tits forward. Elvis thinks her mother, if she’s got one, would be very proud of her social graces. Personally, he is very admiring of those pert nipples straining the cloth, and proud of the eager tremble rustling her in the summer breeze just by a flick of his eyes over her fresh baked womanhood. But maybe it’s the red hot blush under the afternoon sun and the hesitant but almost giddy little wave she gives him that cements the fond flutter he feels in chest into a raging affection.

Falling in affection for a stranger is stupid, dumb and terribly risky. And not at all likely to be requited in the way he craves so badly these days. He knows this, it’s happened before. It’s best to stick to the gals who’ll fawn over his car window and maybe dance together for him later on. But golly, wouldn’t it be nice to pat a cheek that fresh and watch it turn rosier under an ole man’s admiration?

He pulls his cigar out to smile at her, because she deserves a full lipped, white teeth gleaming smile -his ole moneymaker. It still has its intended effect, it makes Gigi beam and her waving little hand clench in excitement. She even does a little bunny hop in place and the way the glorious young shape of her bounces under the demure sundress is all kinds of tonic to a tired fella’s heart.

It’s a lot to take, the way this certified legend ducks and peers past her gaggle of friends at his window to give her not only his attention but that most delightful of grins. The one that is deceptively bashful over being so admired. Gigi would be a pants on fire liar if she didn’t admit that she’s watched enough footage and poured over enough magazine spreads of the man through the eras to nearly swoon under the real life shimmer of it.

And she knows, vaguely, that she’s acting air headed in the way she trembles and bounces but that’s all she’s got, these natural responses, never was good at faking much of anything she feels, and certainly not when she was decidedly embarrassed. Which she was now -what with the way his smile is boyishly fond, his demeanor fatherly and his eyes lewdly assessing. There’s not a bit of the masculine spectrum he isn’t embodying at this moment and her body betrays her by submissively tremoring under his gaze alone. What would a touch be like?

Such slack mouthed, nipple tingling, body electrifying thoughts get interrupted when the myth himself points a bejeweled finger at her -one that is slender and lean and elegant in contrast to the bulk burdening the rest of him- and asks in a meltingly soft voice:

“You any good at charades, sweet cheeks?”

Even if she were terrible at the game, even if she didn’t know how to play it at all, the hopeful raise of his eyebrows would make her lie, hand on the Bible to this Hollywood trained actor, that she was the best charade player the world has ever seen. Her reply in the affirmative is overly confident due to sheer nerves and eagerness, and she vigorously bobs her head to add unneeded emphasis. It makes her beauty queen friends giggle and laugh good naturedly and to his relief she joins in, a hand flying up in humiliation to shut that glossy, pink mouth.

It’s so clumsy and natural a reaction that Elvis’ pointed finger twitches from a desire to tickle her, to watch her writhe from something besides embarrassment. He mourns that she’s standing so far from the window. At least the distance has given him a good view of her from the top of her shiny widdle head to the sole of her itty bitty footsies.

Plans are made at the window, Lamar is to send a car and apparently the lot of them will all be at Dinah’s house for pickup and Gigi tries to get a little closer to overhear these details but the crowd of girlfriends is a few bodies deep and there’s fans gathering, too. So she learns the logistics later, when everyone has finished homework and shifts and are primping in Dinah’s upstairs bedroom, hairspray and nail polish fumes thick in the air, and voices nearly hysterical in pitch from excitement.

-It worked! It worked! It worked! We are going to party at Graceland! Elvis Presley invited us to spend the evening!-

There’s a lot of different reasons for excitement, some of the girls are just curious to see the icon’s home, some are talking of how envious their older sisters (even some mothers) will be over them meeting their crush, others are hoping the scene is as debauched as the rumors would have the world believe, an opportunity to taste drugs and that rock n roll lifestyle for a brief shining evening. Marie asks if they think he’ll make them do naughty, dirty, sexy things for him and that brings up fresh tittering and salacious hearsay regarding his appetites and tastes. Someone deflates that mood by saying that he might just be a dirty old man now, it’s not quite the same as going to his house a few years ago. At forty years old he’s ancient to them. What with his declining health and being a recluse and -what if he lures girls and then murders them? Oh god, the urban legends come out, he’s a vampire, he’s a serial killer, he’s this and he’s that and-

Gigi thinks he’s awfully generous. That’s what she thinks. Inviting strangers into his home. And not just pretty young things. She personally knows folks who he’s helped, the downtrodden and the dehoused and the disadvantaged. She’s grown up in churches and schools and municipalities he’s funded. He practically provided for her and all of Memphis like an omniscient father figure these past three decades. And now there’s this kindhearted invite which most seem to consider akin to a ticket to a Carnival.

As she lets the girls fluff her hair and spritz her in perfume, adding an extra coat of mascara to her lashes -stultifying her if she’s being honest- she gives a brief thought to whether, just maybe, this will be a decadent night after all.

Elvis is still Elvis. It can’t be all hearsay. And for someone like her, who’s been a good student and a decent worker and hasn’t gone chasing every wicked, back alley experience available in Memphis, she frets a little that maybe inside that iconic mansion tonight she’ll lose something that’s been preserved so far.

Innocence? Maybe. But she thinks her greatest concern is that maybe he’ll prove to be something less warm and darling and extraordinary than that brief exchange on the sidewalk and years of idolizing have convinced her that he is. All this talk of him that floats around her makes her feel faintly ill, the morbid curiosity and the vulgar interest. No wonder he secludes himself.

The car arrives, decadent and alluring like its owner, and driving it is one of the many trusted minions of the king. There might not be seatbelts for every girl here but that doesn’t seem to matter, Gigi happily offers up her lap to Tammy and teases her that Tammy is her safety belt and Gigi is her booster seat. It’s a jolly ride, banter being made with the front seat fella who’s name she has to ask for about five times before Tammy takes pity and informs her he’s “George Klein”. Gigi gets a schooling in the back seat about his radio show and once again Gigi is reminded why Tammy is ‘Miss Memphis’ and she’s not. The babble of voices calms down long enough for Mr. Klein to lay down some ground rules before the car pulls through the gates.

The rules are shockingly normal: stay downstairs, make yourselves at home and but don’t behave like asses, don’t shy away from approaching your host, the last thing he likes is awkwardness or standoffish coolness in his own home. Gigi is rather certain that with her nerves and hero adoration she can manage not being stuck up or acting above it all, but she’s not at all sure she’s gonna manage to not be as awkward as a newborn duckling.

Graceland through the gates is not an unfamiliar sight to most of them, but Graceland up close, caressed in the inky dark of night from inside by golden fingertips of light, is magical. As is the atmosphere inside the place, though that may be more a case of her knowing where she was, rather than anything particularly incredible occurring in the opulent space. Despite the change of clothes to a slinky little number and the fluffed blowout that her more cultured friends gave her in consideration of the evening, Gigi can’t help but feel underdressed for a night in this gaudy Antebellum Establishment. Extra mascara and expensive perfume feels inadequate to match the gold and crimson and white furnishings. If Belle Watling had a home, Gigi reckons it would look rather like this.

That old worry returns that tonight might devolve into being the most debauched of her young life, that maybe she’s stepped into a hospitable bordello, so exotic and seductive are the furnishings alone. But to her surprise, seated on crimson curved couches, and already heatedly invested in a game of charades, is a friendly looking group of men and their wives. They have to be wives, the Mafia’s wives -they look so respectable, so relaxed lounging in Elvis’ Presley’s home. There’s differing ages here, middle and younger and all in between, and a man she’s rather certain is Elvis’ own father. It’s respectable, to her immense relief and confusion.

“Ah, here comes the fresh young blood!” One of the group says and it’s a bit chaotic then, half the group invested in keeping up the game and the other set rather eager to abandon their losing streak to offer welcomes and refreshment.

She lets the bodies swirl around her, a strange feeling of being a little left out taking over her without a single rudeness on the part of anyone present justifying the feeling. It irks her that she's so skittish, it just seems that everyone somehow falls in with another or ten and the established groups begin games or snacking or talking without her and she stands alone in the human eddy watching it all happen so effortlessly.

What’s entirely unexpected a half hour or more into this friendly pandemonium is a playful tap on her shoulder and turning round to find their host himself, clad in a comfy tracksuit, unzipped sufficiently low to display a devout amount of crosses shimmering on sweat slick skin and wearing shades even indoors. He’s asking if she’d like a drink.

“Oh -Elvis!” is a stupid thing to say in reply to his felicitations but it’s all Gigi can manage in such close proximity to his warm smile, his unzipped jacket and his heady scent. He looks her over, taking in the way her friends have erased the fresh faced ingenue on the sidewalk and made her into a sex doll and it takes supreme self discipline to not reach out and wipe some of it off. His scrutiny is making her nervous but she does at last manage to scramble out, “Yes, thank you, Mr. Presley, that would be lovely -it’s lovely of you to have us and your home is so unbelievably lovely, and I can’t believe we’re here, I’ve admired you for so long and -I, I’m only 20 and can’t drink.”

The word vomit robs her of breath and Gigi sucks it back in with a painful wince -she just declined a drink and proclaimed herself a complete goody two shoes, a perfect square, to the King himself. Her face flames hot and the heavy coating of lashes flutters from eye watering embarrassment.

Elvis just tilts his head to the side and gives her sweet face the appreciative study of a blush connoisseur, his grin growing impossibly wider and a little wolfish,

“Well, darlin, I’m a lil over 21 but I don’t drink ‘neither.”

“Really?” Ggi ventures in utter surprise, and that must’ve been redeeming on her part as his smile shifts from wolfish to fond before giving a tight nod,

“I was offerin’ lemonade, or sweet tea, but I think-“ and here he steps back, surveying her head to toe in the gauzy halter dress her friends snazzed her up in, “I think, yeah, yeah, ‘think you’re a cherry coke kinda girl.”

“I’m whatever you say, sir!” Gigi salutes him like a idiot because she’s had never had a cherry coke in her life or been assessed by a powerful man and she is quickly forgetting to be shy when so bewildered by his heavy lidded assessment-

“Yeah,” he nods, satisfied after another survey of the god crafted entirety of her, “Cherry coke for you, I think, lil Miss.”

He doesn’t fetch it, someone else in this crowded place does and it comes with the ordered white straw and she sips the carbonated beverage with a bashful smile, trying to think of something sensible to say in thanks when being looked at like that by the man who having fulfilled his host duties slowly moves away to recline in a decadent crimson armchair.

“Go on now, you’re here to have some fun, sweet cheeks.” he waves her down to the floor where many others are sprawled writing dares and acts, and she settles where he directs her, right by his leg until it’s her turn.

Once she moves to the mantle and acts out her turn, once it’s successfully guessed, she’s a little at a loss as to where to go. It feels presumptive somehow to sit by him again. So she sits by Dee instead, and feels a fool five seconds later, knowing it’s just nerves and shyness keeping her from a chance at sitting by such an extraordinary hero for what’s probably the best night of her life.

Ever.

Gigi wouldn’t get this chance again and yet she decided to act like an awkward idiot for fear of acting like a -what? Cling on? Groupie? It was just his leg, his beefy, muscled, thick leg beside her, and the heat of his body and the little noises of amusement coming from him. But it made her feel like she was burning up inside, it felt intimate, it felt like she should be between those legs and surrounded by his bulk. Like between his thighs would be the cleft in the rock to hide from this vast world that she’d been looking for all her life.

He was just domestic and kind, and she had to make it weird. Tammy’s unimpressed eye roll at her doesn't help matters. Soon the left side of Gigi’s face begins to burn and out of desperation she finally turns to face Elvis and finds him staring straight at her, her abandoned, half-drunk cola being jostled in his hand like a carrot for a horse. His eyebrow beckons, she blushes harder, he keeps shaking the damn thing and ducking his head with that coaxing grin. She rises and crouches through the partiers and moves back to her place at his feet.

“Here ya go.” he says mildly as she settles, nothing mentioned of the command and obedience just enacted.

He just gives Gigi her coke back, his rings clanking on the glass and fingers brushing hers during the handover. She chokes on her next sip when he pats the top of her head. Fatherly, if her father had ever been one for pats and noticing her existence. Unfettered, Elvis’ hand slides down the glossy brushed out length of her hair, to pat her back as she gasps out her shock, somehow making things worse but oh so lovely. She dares to lean back into that caressing hand, finds herself leaning against his leg by proxy, finding herself lulled and squirmy all at once.

Charades at Elvis Presley’s house are very much the same as at anyone else’s, and strangely Gigi finds that simultaneously the most bizarre and adorable thing imaginable. There is, however, a good deal more betting and hollering than would be permissible in most households, and she finds herself enacting dubious scenes with a shockingly plentiful array of cousins and fellow guests, but altogether it’s wholesome and lively and joyous. It seems a bit rigged when Tammy, fresh off winning Miss Memphis, has to enact the white dress subway scene of Marylin Monroe -made snort worthy humorous when an ancient creature, who Gigi has on good cousinly authority is Elvis’ grandmother, provides the wind to blow up Tammy’s flimsy excuse of a dress to her upper thighs. Flashing panties as is the iconic scene.

In a weak moment Gigi tilts her head to see Elvis’ reaction to her friend's beauty, and she doesn't miss the way he guffaws around his cigar at the sight of those award winning stems. Though she doubts it’s his first sight of them, they’ve been plastered all over TV and newspapers ever since Tammy won the damn thing a few months ago. Best body and face in the state. Gigi’s primped up face and heavy coated lashes and gauzy dress suddenly feel like an attempt to mimic something she wasn’t cut out for. Self consciously she tugs at the hem of the short skirt.

Tammy flashes Elvis a wink and shimmies in a mouth watering tease before sitting opposite the two of them, legs crossed and hardly a bit left to the imagination.

Elvis keeps grinning. Tammy licks her lips. Gigi finishes her coke and vaguely recalls the fact that the man is supposedly dating one of Tammy’s rivals from the pageant, or a sister of or a- Gigi doesn’t recall really, and she can be sure that between the way he’s stroking her own sun streaked locks and eye sexing Tammy opposite, the man sure doesn't act taken.

Watching Billy Smith try to act out a cheetah giving birth takes her mind off such self pitying introspection, and before she knows it, the gaudy foyer clock is ringing out 1:00 am.

Homework and college has been running Gigi a little ragged and eventually her little head begins to droop against his leg and the way the empty coke bottle starts to slip from her weak grip catches his attention. He slowly raises his hand from where it was resting ever so lightly on her shoulder and caresses her neck. To his immense relief Gigi leans into his patting eager as a housecat, and it makes him glad. Just as much as it makes him worry.

Only twenty years old and so easily lulled.

“You got a curfew, lil one?” he asks her with concern and that startles Gigi, his warm breath hot against her ear and the grunt of him folding himself over his sizable belly to get down near her face.

“No sir. Not really.” She admits, overly respectful in her sleepy state, “My parents aren’t really into stuff like that. They are pretty liberal that way. And I live with Tammy.”

She gives him an assuring smile even as she stifles a yawn, and two things flash across his mind. This means he (or God forbid, any man) could have her over here at his whim without excuses being made. And secondly, Elvis really must look out for her so that she doesn’t fall into the company of any such other men.

There’s no precedent for a Graceland party to wind down before dawn, but he considerately asks her if she’s got classes tomorrow. The honest way Gigi nods her droopy head and moans “yeah” has his heart clenching and his fingers flex, he wants to put her to bed. His bed, he thinks, though that’s a rather dastardly thought. Really though, he’d like to wrap himself around her and hold her and tell her he’d care very much whether or not she came home late from a stranger's house. That he’d be worried sick about so sweet and darling a little treasure if she were his. He’s got a sneaking suspicion that he’ll care no matter what, his or no.

Instead, he interrupts the game to have Lamar drive her home. Tammy and a few others, noticeably the ones who look like all night partiers, stay longer.

Gigi gets another pat on the head and a commendation to do well on her grades and that’s that.

Gigi last sees him standing in his foyer, jeweled chains gleaming in the nest of his chest hair and a boyish smile on his face, Dinah coming up behind to wave her farewell. Tammy is back there, too, probably going to get up to all sorts of fun while she gets sent home like a child. Wistfully, even as she walks down his drive to her ride, Gigi wishes she had hugged him goodbye. Gushed with more than just words in thanks for the invite, maybe even buried her face there in his chest, just once in that safe haven, sweat and jewels against her cheek. He had seemed to care.

But she wasn’t not that type though, was she? Brazenness was something that always felt awkward to her and landed her splat into uncomfy situations where college boys peered into the women’s locker room and jacked off to the sight of her legs as she tried to change into her track shorts.

The frenzy she often felt in her body to be touched would immediately die in situations such as having her hand clumsily moved up and down a penis in the dark of a movie theater. Or groped over her dress by the drunk jocks she tried to experiment with. Gigi could feel her own potential simmering hot and fervent inside, ready to be appreciated and let out like a fizz from a corked bottle. It was cruel that a fatherly sorta hero was the one to make her finally feel like she would take riding that man’s shoe over the most romantic gesture from one of her many age-appropriate admirers.

If she were Tammy, she wouldn’t have inspired the literal king of rock n roll to send her to bed. If she were Tammy she’d have made a move and said “damn that mythical absentee girlfriend” and would now be flat on her back getting obscenely used by that gorgeous hunk of a man.

Instead, deposited safely home by Lamar and tucked back in her shared flat, Gigi stares at her made up face with adamant animosity. It’s a fine face, she’s been told that plenty and she’s been told she’s smart, but it’s not really inviting the attention she suddenly wants so badly. Maybe she should have worn falsies to add to the effect. Maybe her features and coloring are too light. Tammy’s bleach blonde hair does not occur to her as being a strike against this logic. Instead Gigi thinks of pouring over photos of raven haired Pricilla as a girl and marveling at the thick mask Elvis crafted for her, wonders why she can’t be that kind of girl. She’s not petite, or glamorous or particularly coquettish, but she’d ride that man till he needed IV fluids if he’d just let her.

But he chose Tammy.

Dunking her face into the sink, Gigi scrubs away the artificial bloom until she’s left pink and freckled and so decidedly innocent looking it makes her wanna claw her cheeks to shreds.

“Lil one.”

The way he’d cooed it had turned her insides to jelly and ignited thoughts of her own sizable frame being made small while smothered beneath his sturdy breadth but now it turns her angry, and in the shower she lathers herself and wishes maybe her parents had given a shit about her catching a man instead of being “all she could be” because now at twenty she’s eyeing up the bulbous shape of her Lemon Up shampoo bottle and wondering if she’s big girl enough to take it. He was so big, so bulky and sturdy and muscly with padding to boot, and she’s just so sure his cock has got to match the thighs. A bulky, chubby thing, too, probably. The sort only girls like Tammy can manage.

She wants to be that sorta girl.

Gigi grabs at the bottle. She wrenches the shower handle to off, her wet body bolting for her bed, a jar of Vaseline in her other hand and savage lust in her heart. Halfway to the bed she realizes the shampoo bottle is almost empty and she wants to cry at that. She does stomp her chilled feet like a child and whines. What she needs is weight, her subconscious provides, everything about him was heavy and wonderfully big and she needs more than a hollow bottle to mimic him. She runs back to the shower and grabs at the conditioner, same ginormous shape and this time it’s fully loaded and heavy in her hand and she races back to bed, happy to dive under the covers with her dripping hair and goosefleshed skin.

Tammy has toys to achieve this, Gigi knows from sightings of them being washed in their communal bathroom sink. Pink and veiny and some that even buzz and it was all very funny and silly to come across them when she needed to wash her hands, but right now Gigi wants nothing to do with them, the stupidly large and bulky shaped conditioner bottle not even phasing her. Because it’s hers and not Tammy’s -Tammy who is probably getting railed but Elvis Presley right now. His cockhead probably isn’t shaped like the bottom of a lemon, but it’s gotta be round and this bottle will have to do.

It doesn't do. She lathers on the Vaseline to add to the sticky want she already has pooling, she rubs herself to a frenzy and as her hand cramps she tries putting the oiled up bottle up her channel and finds it’s really just impossible. It’s burns and won’t give and she berates herself and begs a man called “daddy” that she can barely admit to herself is Elvis to “give it to her” and curses Tammy for having a big vagina. She tries and tries with ever increasing anguish and frustration as the clock ticks towards three am and valuable sleeping hours are wasted as she tries to slip more than the crown of the lemon bottle into her untried cunt.

“Give it to me please, please daddy I can

take it.” Gigi insists to the shampoo bottle and her wrist manfully attempts to shove it in after slipping it along her folds for ages.

But it won’t go and she screams more and begs more and cries more and ends up seizing her stuffed valentine's bear -gifted to her by the football team's running back- and rubs herself raw in its button nose. It’s not the first time, but for once her sticky satisfaction doesn’t come to the thought of tiny white shorts ocean wet and clinging to him, or svelte white jumpsuits and chiseled jawline grinning promise. She digs her fingers into the stuffy’s fur and thinks of a hairy chest glistening with sweat and chains jingling with noisy exhales and the smell of him. Oh god the manly smell of him! - and the quiet authority that had her sitting at his feet and having her head petted and being sent home like a child. He acted like he cared for her and could find some use for her and she wets the poor bear’s muzzle at the thought of him telling her that her purpose is to keep him happy.

Worn out and trembling from her orgasm she rolls off the poor stuffed animal and buries her face in her pillow and dreams of warmth.

Outside Gigi’s door, arrested in her trip to the bathroom by shrieks of “daddy” and curses of her own name, Tammy shakes her head in disbelief and grins to herself through her whole nightly routine.

“Why were you cussing me out last night?” Tammy asks her placidly next morning, “Are you jealous of your daddy’s attention being split?”

Gigi groans at Tammy’s mischievous smile and realizes her mistake with a blush, “You didn’t- last night you came back? He didn’t keep you?”

“No, he didn’t.” Tammy agrees through her wheezing laughs and Gigi tries to aim a kick at her shins in mortification. “He was quite the gentleman in fact,” she expounds, “Except for the fact he spent the rest of our time asking me questions about you. I told him he’d lost all his raisin’ talking to a lady about another lady. Made a girl feel like a damn directory.”

“Oh, oh I’m sorry.” Gigi tries to suppress her thrill enough to sympathize with a no doubt annoying event. “You must’ve felt left out.”

Tammy pauses in thought for a bit. “He’s very….sweet.” Is Tammy’s verdict and to Gigi’s incredulity she sounds a little disappointed. “I mean, didn’t you think he was just sorta, ya know, nice?” Tammy presses.

Gigi thinks of the way his hand felt stroking her hair, the care about her curfew, the lack of alcohol, the endearments, the sturdy meat of his thigh against her shoulder. All the things that had made her rub herself puffy with a shampoo bottle that is still hidden under her covers. Yes, he seemed very sweet, and she was desperately in love with a man she’d never see again, who seemed a bit bashful about being “discount bargain Elvis” when all she could think of was how nurturing and mischievous he was.

He just seemed -shy. Bizarrely enough. And she could sympathize with that. Laying here on Tammy’s bed watching the dust motes dance in the afternoon sun when she should be studying, she thinks she’s solved Elvis Presley.

He’s shy.

“I thought he was precious.” Gigi agrees with Tammy, though her tone holds a reverence that makes the beauty queen of Memphis’ head spin in a near 180 to observe her now flaming cheeks. It seems the man has that effect on Gigi, present or not.

“Well, well.” Pretty, sultry, darling Tammy hasn’t a malicious bone in her body but she takes delight in making Gigi squirm, “You sound enchanted!”

“He was sweet!” Gigi protests, using her words against her.

“Yeah, he was.” she agrees, her perfectly tweezed brows drawing together for a moment before an epiphany dawns on her, “But I think it’s a means to an end.”

“What do you mean by that?” She balks, fervent in her conviction that it wasn’t an act. In fact, Gigi was certain he was more himself in his own home last night than ever on a stage.

“It’s making sense now.” she starts to pace the room, “He’s an outrageous flirt, you saw him, flirting with everyone he wasn’t related to that night, but he was so sweet to you- hmm, I think he wants to baby you.”

“Baby me?” Gigi repeat, staring up at the ceiling and feeling that flutter in her belly, just from the idea of him having *any* design on little ole her. “What’s- what even is that?” She asks her, a little hopeful, content to get her education from Tammy on this just as she has on all the more mechanical and dynamical aspects of sex and men.

“It means turning you into his baby.” she laughs, like it’s the most obvious thing, “Would probably put a little chain round your neck saying ‘belongs to Elvis Presley’ or something, and in turn spoil you rotten. At least, that’s how it’s worked for the others. It’s what he’s trying with Ginger but she’s got an independent streak.”

Ginger. The others. Of course there had been others. And yet he was so lonely again, already so lonely she was sure of it. Lonely in his own home, what was worse than that? “I wouldn’t mind being his baby.” Gigi mutters, bashful at the fact that what was essentially a future of house arrest, a portly sugar daddy and head pats makes her shiver delightfully.

“You sure about that?” Tammy suddenly seems overly earnest for a conversation in her room on a Thursday evening about a hypothetical scenario where Elvis Presley takes an interest in Gigi.

“Yes.” She gives it the full, weighty two seconds of thought it deserves. “And if all I get out of it is polishing his guns and feeding him yogurt then I’d honestly be happier than studying political science.” She makes a face as she registers the homework currently crinkling somewhere under her lower back.

“So you get that the sex probably isn’t exactly legendary anymore, right? Like -you saw him.” only Tammy, beautiful, southern pageant winner that she is, with the manner to accompany the looks, could say such a thing without Gigi socking her.

She’s looking out for her, just as she looked out for her with the sub par debate President that Gigi went to prom with and found insufferable after two weeks. She thinks Gigi needs to just keep trying the field (like her, Gigi presumes) until she finds the magical unicorn that will blow her mind in bed and satisfy her curious brain.

At this point in life, she’d settle for a man who chooses her drinks for her and cares enough about her well being to get her home by his own, invented curfew. Maybe she wants a father, what with hers being liberal to the point of carelessness, but she’d settle for a daddy, happily. “Tammy,” she says very slowly, trying to distill all these emotions down into something convincing -because strangely she feels a dire need to convince Tammy of her devotion even in this hypothetical scenario- “Tammy, if he gave a crap about me and paid my student loans, I’m pretty sure I could get off by just watching him smile at the way I make a fool of myself. And if that wasn’t enough, then I’d rub myself raw on his hairy belly. -you get me?”

Tammy looms above her, upside down in her view with her blown out bleached hair, heavy coaled eyes and shimmery mouth, studying Gigi for a minute before bursting out laughing. “You really meant that bit about his belly, didn’t you?”

“Yup.” Gigi mutters, throat thick and heart pounding -somewhere else pounds, too- at the very thought of being that intimate with him, that nasty sticky sweet with him. “Why are we talking about this anyway?” She whines, having worked herself up enough she’s damp and actually a little heartbroken knowing that if anything, Tammy is the one he’d go for.

“I got a call from George Klein this morning.” she spins away and busies herself in the closet, rummaging for shoes, Gigi thinks.

“Oh?” She asks, trying to keep the waiver out of her voice as she sits up and watches Tammy as she digs.

“Yeah, we got invited back.” she says, and turns on her award winning haunches to raise a significant eyebrow at Gigi, “All of us. And then, it was specified, you too.” she watches Gigi’s panicked, hopeful blush coat her face and chest.

“What exactly did he say, Tammy?” she demands, forcing herself not to gnaw on her fingernails, having to remember these nails might be in Graceland by the end of the week.

“He said that ‘E.P. wants to make sure the old gang knew they were welcome again, and the invite is only contingent on “Miss cherry coke” coming’.” she sits fully back on her butt now just to fully appreciate the way Gigi hyperventilates. “Cherry coke, huh?” she teases, “Did you ask for that just to be as euphemistic as possible or do you actually favor the drink?”

“He chose it.” Gigi whimpers, scuffing her keds together because it’s either that or her thighs.

“Oh god.” Tammy sounds like some guys do when their team makes a dirty, dirty interception that ends in a touchdown, “What did I say? Baby you, he wants to baby you! Oh my god, like he’s sweet but that’s -that’s nasty honey, just know that’s a nasty little thing to do.” she insists before turning back to her closet and digging through the dozens of pairs again.

Gigi flops back on her back and tries to think of the deep seated meaning behind cherries, and fails to do more than buzz in hopeless nervous anticipation at going back to that warm and kind and slightly bizarre haven that is Elvis Presley and his home.

Hope y’all enjoyed and if you wanna be tagged let me know. I live off your screams and your pestering, y’all are each precious to me!

Xoxo 🌷 Marina

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

@stephthestallion

@vintageshanny

@landmermaid12

@ashtag2887

@notstefaniepresley

@butlersluvbot

@steph-speaks

@eliseinmemphis

@lookingforrainbows

@dkayfixates

@ellie-24

@memphisflash1935-1977

@marriedtopresley

@powerofelvis

@thatbanditqueen

@elvisabutler

@butlersxbirdy

@heartbrake-hotel

@fav-fanficssss

@austinbutlersbaby

@freudianslumber

@joons

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randomdragonfires · 2 months

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it's me, hi!

Hello everyone! it's me - randomdragonfires/sam and this is my new blog!

This is a note for anyone who remembers me - hello, I'm back here, I suppose! First off, I'm going to say this: I'm genuinely sorry to those whom I worried while I took off without saying a word. I was gone a whole month and I left no way to be contacted. I can understand how that could worry those of you who cared, and I should have acted better.

I left for a bit simply because I needed to catch a breath. Writing started to seem a bit like a chore, and there was too much about the fandom that made me sad, frustrated, angry and petty each time I opened my feed. I was not writing and I was not a happy participant - there was very little reason for me to stay and make myself miserable, when I could have been clearing my head, giving myself space and falling in love with writing for fandom all over again.

Which is what I've been doing in the past month.

Deleting my tumblr and discord was not a decision I made impulsively. I had been considering it for weeks, and I am glad I did. Now, after a clean long break, I've come back with a much more healthier relationship with this blog and the fandom, and I'm genuinely in a better space. I look forward to writing and posting here again too.

I've missed it so much more than you know.

that's great, Sam! so, how have you been?

It's good. It's bumpy and weird, but things are good. I hope they've been good for you guys too. <3

If this is your next question, then here it is!

I've been very busy. I work a 9-6 job as a creative writer 6 days a week and I also study for my executive masters program (in journalism and PR, if you're wondering) when I'm not working. I'm involved in a few freelance projects and when I'm not doing any of this, I prefer to read or sleep or go on fast hour-long walks; simply because it all keeps me away from my electronics. I'm constantly drained creatively, and it sucks - but I'm also engaged 24x7, learning something new and doing productive things.

will you be writing again?

If this is something that you're wondering about, then yes. I do plan on writing. I am starting a series that I am trying to pour my entire soul into - but it is going slowly. Like I mentioned, I have a tight schedule and it keeps me busy every second of the day, so I write when I can.

I plan on announcing my new series with a story masterpost anytime now. If you're interested, perhaps you should keep an eye on this space!

I will also be reuploading a selected collection of some of my work from my old blog - so if you'd like to give those a revisit, then feel free to!

that's it from me!

I'm happy to be back in the thick of things, and I hope that, to some extent, you're glad to see me back too. I'm here to be a positive, non-problematic presence that writes good fic, supports other artists, and is happy about it. Negativity in excess had me step away once, and I hope I'll never have to do that again.

Let's all be kinder, or at least try. :)

#sam's shitposts #hotd writers

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waitmyturtles · 2 months

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Dead Friend Forever: I managed to catch up in time to watch the finale, and here are my immediate, uneducated, "holy shit" thoughts

First off: I acknowledge I am an utter interloper on this tag, having written exactly zero meta words about this mostly great show. Second: everything I know about slashers comes from my childhood memories of "Scream," and my recent conversations with the lovelies @lurkingshan and @neuroticbookworm. So I'm not an expert here. Thirdly! I was inspired in part by them to watch this, and also by the friendies who jumped into comments on my recent KinnPorsche liveblog watches for my Old GMMTV Challenge project. I've been waiting these past few weeks to finish Dead Friend Forever before putting pen to paper on my KP rewatch thoughts, because I thought Be On Cloud did something fabulously experimental with DFF as its second major serial drama.

Anyway: all of this is to say that now that DFF is over, in the near future, I'm gonna write a bunch on KP and a bit more on DFF -- but I want to offer just some quick wandering thoughts on DFF now.

I think like many of y'all, I found the tone of the last PheeJin moments to be discordant with the tenor of the rest of the finale episode. The way I'm calculating this, as I'm sure many of you are, is that I think there was a commentary on fate and Buddhist purgatory, particularly with New/Tan being able to hear from a thankful Non one more time before New's passing. New suffers, it seems to me, the least painful death, and I think that was in part Non’s doing.

In order to conclude the tone on PheeJin, I do wish that we would have seen a flashback back to PheeJin at the house. I guess we’d assume that Phee and Jin never regained their consciousness, that the antidote didn’t work, and that their cyclical fate would be returning back to the lakeshore, only to be haunted by Non again. While it seems to me that Tee, in whatever realm of fate they ended up in, got his appropriate ending — I don’t think that the PheeJin cyclical ending at the lakeshore assigned enough “blame” of fate to either of them, especially Jin. I know @lurkingshan notes that that’s a nod to the need to appease any hopes of surviving ships, and I agree with that assessment. But also — god, BLEH, they sucked, we were left with PheeJin?! JIN??? My boy White, my bubbala, he’s the good one that got really in-your-face off-ed? Wah. (But I do see and understand why White needed to die, to make Tee’s residual fate the utter living hell he deserves.)

Like I said: on a more macro note, I’m gonna have thoughts about DFF, Be On Cloud, and KP in the coming days, because I just like that BOC is dabbling with some experimental writing while allowing solid acting to really shine. (And I compare that to what’s happening at Idol Factory and the recent writing miss that was The Sign.) I wish the ending wasn’t as milquetoast as it was, but BOC still traffics in BLs, and I guess they felt they needed to throw the fans some kind of BL bone (huh huh).

But overall? I am REALLY GLAD I watched this, and it absolutely belongs on the OGMMTVC syllabus. This was incredibly new for the Thai BL genre, and I gotta give BOC — AND ESPECIALLY BARCODE AND TA, WOW — their flowers for taking Thai BL into this new direction. For the most part of this run, I had a great time with this show, as brutal as the content was.

#dead friend forever #dead friend forever meta #dead friend forever the series #dff the series #barcode tinnasit #ta nannakun #sammon

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ayyy-pee · 2 years

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Strangers in Love

Chapter 3

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Kofi

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Female Reader

Summary: Dinner with Nanami finally happens.

Genre: Divorce AU

Story Warnings: Smut, Vaginal Sex, Jealousy, Jealous Behavior, Divorce, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Arguments, Ex-Husband Nanami Kento

About a week after your run in with Nanami, you’re sitting in a meeting at work jotting down notes as your supervisor droned on about the next company product release. Your phone vibrated and you flipped it over from its facedown position on the long table to see Nanami’s name light up on the screen.

Nanami Kento: Good afternoon. I hope your day is going well. I never heard back from you about a potential meetup. I don’t want to bother you, so if you’re not comfortable with it, please let me know. I completely understand if you’re not.

You would reply later. Maybe. Probably not. You were about to lay your phone back down when it vibrated with another message from him.

Nanami Kento: Although, I cannot say I wouldn’t love the opportunity to see you again. If you are still open to making plans, I’d be happy to take you to lunch or dinner.

You felt your heart crawl into your throat at his words. During your marriage, Nanami had never been a big texter even when things were good between you two. This Nanami, who was more open and put in the effort to reach out, was… nice, different . You had to admit the nostalgic part of you yearned to see him again.

Okay, I guess it wouldn’t hurt, you thought even though you didn’t believe it. You would meet Nanami for dinner, pretend you weren't together for a good chunk of your younger years, catch-up like old friends. After that, you would move on with your life and forget about Nanami again.

You put your phone back down until the meeting was wrapped up. Once back in your office, you checked your calendar for availability before texting Nanami back.

You: Hi Nanami. My day is going well. I hope it’s the same for you. I’m available at 6pm next Friday if that works for you?

It took him all of two minutes to text you back.

Nanami Kento: Excellent. Would you like me to pick you up? I don’t mind.

You hesitated, the idea of Nanami knowing where you live feeling too intimate for your currently strained relationship - or lack thereof.

You: Thank you for the offer, but I’ll meet you there.

Nanami Kento: Okay. I will text you the details later. Have a good rest of your day. See you next week.

Now, on the night of your dinner, you’re pacing around your apartment, phone wedged between your ear and your shoulder as you attempt to put your earrings on. You’ve gone through about twelve pairs by now and have changed your outfit at least four times. Nothing you put on feels quite right. You settle on a simple strapless form fitting dress and heels.

“Are you sure you wanna meet up with him?” Satoru asks on the other end of the line. His voice is muffled, no doubt scarfing down some too sweet snack.

Gojo’s question rang through your mind as you adjusted your dress. No, you were not sure but you were curious to see why Nanami pushed so hard for this. A part of you would be lying if you didn’t say you were feeling excited. Nervous, fucking terrified , but excited nonetheless. At some point in time, you and Nanami shared a friendship and you hoped that made this dinner easier to get through.

“It’s a little late to change my mind, Satoru. I’m damn near out the door already.”

He hummed. “Do you want me to go? Just for support. You won’t even know I’m there. I’ll like…hide behind a plant or something.”

You snorted. “Yeah, the bright white hair and eyes that practically glow in the dark won’t give you away at all.”

Gojo lets out a loud laugh. “Well, I offered. Let me know how it goes. Call me if you need an excuse to leave. Good luck!”

You ended the call, giving yourself a once over before grabbing your keys and heading to the train station.

———

You entered the restaurant, eyes immediately landing on Nanami who stood to wave you over. You smiled politely to the hostess as you moved past her and made your way to the table. The restaurant was bustling, full of couples and coworkers out to dinner and you couldn’t help but note the dim lighting adding an almost romantic ambience. It only added to your nerves.

The closer you got to Nanami, the more overwhelmed you became seeing him dressed up in a nice navy suit with your chair pulled out waiting for you. He looked so incredibly handsome and you hated that you thought so.

“You look lovely,” he stated matter of fact, motioning for you to sit down. Still a gentleman when he wants to be.

“Thank you. You look good too,” you returned the compliment, taking the seat and letting Nanami push your chair in. You let out a shaky breath, goosebumps spreading up your arms and your cheeks heating up as your body reacted to the familiar smell of Nanami’s cologne surrounding you. After all this time, he still had an effect on you with little to no effort made on his part. He took the seat across from you. The soft light from the candle sitting on the table added to the sharpness of his face and you thought he looked so much younger than you remembered - definitely far less tired.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he spoke softly, “I went ahead and ordered a bottle of merlot for us.”

“Oh,” you replied in surprise, which must have made Nanami’s nerves kick in because he pinched the bridge of his nose and suddenly began rambling.

“I apologize. That was presumptuous of me. I should have asked first beforehand. I don’t even know if you still like merlot. I just thought—“

“Nanami,” you interrupted. “It’s totally fine. Merlot is still my favorite. Thank you.” You offered him a soft smile, hoping to ease his obvious anxiety and your own. He returned the gesture, the tension in his shoulders dissipating.

The waiter arrived shortly with two glasses and the bottle of merlot Nanami had ordered. He poured for you both before agreeing to give you a few minutes to look over the menu.

“Thank you for coming out tonight.”

“Yeah, of course.” You lied. You almost didn’t come. You brought your glass of wine up to your lips trying to busy yourself as the silence between you two grew.

“I will be honest. This is a little awkward.” Nanami spoke up.

You spit your wine back into your glass as a laugh escaped you. That was an understatement.

“Yeah, just a little bit. I’m sorry. This is so weird. I guess I should ask how you’ve been?” You tried to push past how uncomfortable this was quickly becoming.

Nanami nodded, hands coming up from his lap to smooth down the tablecloth in front of him and you recognized this as a nervous tick he still had. You remembered Nanami would fidget when uncomfortable, doing anything to keep his hands moving and soothe his nerves. It was comforting to know that that had not changed.

“I’ve been good. Spent some time in Sendai - a few years actually. Very nice place. You should go and see it if you ever get a chance. I just recently moved back and started my new position a few weeks ago.”

“Oh?” You questioned as you opened your menu to browse your options. Chicken sounded good tonight. “Are you still working as a salaryman?”

He shook his head, his nose scrunching at your question as he looked over his own menu. “Absolutely not. I’m a marketing manager now for a major company in Tokyo.”

You hummed, eyes landing on what you wanted to order. “Sounds busy.”

Nanami shut his menu and placed it on the edge of the table before replying, “Actually, it’s the most free I’ve ever felt working. I come and go as I please. I get my weekends off and plenty of vacation time.”

You glanced up to find him staring intensely at you, almost as though he was gauging your reaction.

“That’s nice, Nanami. You deserve a job where you’re able to relax and have some free time to yourself.”

Nanami opened his mouth to speak, but the waiter approached to take your orders, sticking a metaphorical pin in this conversation. Once your orders had been placed and your waiter left the two of you alone, you found it a bit difficult to start the conversation back up. You figured this would be strange, but damn it was downright painful whenever it was silent. Nanami again, was the first to speak up.

“Thank you again for coming. I know it must have taken a lot of thought before agreeing.”

You nodded. He was right.

“I definitely was not sure I wanted to do this if I’m being completely honest.” It was your turn to fidget now. You smoothed down your already smooth dress in your lap, avoiding Nanami’s gaze.

He hummed in response before pushing forward.

“So, tell me what you’ve been up to”, he offers. He’s trying to move the conversation along and you can appreciate that.

“Hmm, well I’m working now as a Senior Project Manager at the moment. It’s a good job, well paying and not stressful. I’ve been taking cooking classes recently. I make a mean rotisserie chicken.” You fill Nanami in on the basic parts of your life as your food arrives.

Nanami smiles softly as you speak, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight as he sips his wine. His gaze never leaves yours, an indicator that you have his full attention and your heart flutters in your chest because you can’t even deny that you missed this.

You finally let a comfortable silence fall over you both as you eat, the only sounds being the background noise of the restaurant and your cutlery hitting the plate. The food is delicious and it reminds you all the times you and Nanami used to share meals together, simply enjoying each other’s company.

Nanami finishes his meal first, his eyes roving over you as he finishes his glass of wine and pours another. He clears his throat before speaking.

“It sounds like life is quite interesting for you”, he begins. You finish your meal, wiping your mouth with a napkin as he continues. “I’m glad you’re doing well for yourself.”

“Likewise”, you offer. The night has gone so well. You aren’t sure what you were worried about, or Gojo for that matter. You chuckle to yourself as you remember his earlier offer.

“What’s so funny?” Nanami asks, his own smile spreading across his cheeks as he watches your amusement. You shake your head, deciding the night has gone well enough that Nanami may find this funny as well.

“Just that when I was getting ready to come here, I was on the phone with Satoru”, you somehow missed the tick in Nanami’s jaw at the mention of your friend’s name. “And he could tell I was nervous. He’s so funny…he actually offered to come here and hide behind a plant to spy on us.” You giggle, recalling Gojo’s joke to Nanami.

Nanami gives you a dry chuckle. “Hilarious”, he deadpans.

He’s watching you intensely again. Like he wants to say something, but he’s thinking better of it. You hope he keeps his thoughts to himself, but he doesn’t.

“Satoru…” he mumbles, testing the name. “You two must be close for you to be using his first name so casually now.”

You don’t particularly like his tone, but you know there’s history between Nanami and Gojo. They weren’t exactly the best of friends in high school, both of them having polar opposite personalities. They just didn’t quite mesh. But that had no bearing on the present. Yes, you were close with Gojo. Over the years, he had become a good friend and nothing more. You don’t know why you feel the need to stress this to Nanami, but you do.

“I mean, yes. We’re close, but—.”

“Are you together? Dating?” He interrupts, which only irritates you.

“What? No, Satoru and I are just friends, Nanami.”

He scoffs, unable to hide the crease in his brow holding his irritation. “Right. With the way you ogled each other that day at the coffee shop, I’m sure.”

You blink, eyes wide. You’re taken aback from this sudden shift in his mood. Where was this coming from?

“Even if Satoru and I were dating, it’s honestly none of your business. You don’t think it’s a little weird asking me this, Nanami?”

“So it’s Satoru for him, but I’m just Nanami now?” He sighed.

“What else do you expect me to call you? I haven’t seen you in half a decade. A little weird to call you Ken or Kento now, don’t you think?”

“Even so, I’ve known you longer. We were married once—“

“ And now we’re not .” You hiss, cutting him off. His eyes widen slightly at your tone. You never were one to lose your temper with him, but he was starting to push you. You took a deep breath, making sure to lower your voice. “You have to be kidding me with this petty shit right now.”

The conversation came to a brief pause as the waiter approached to clear your table of your plates and drop off the check. Nanami reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his card, handing it to the waiter without glancing at the paper. His eyes never left yours, the tension is his jaw apparent.

As the waiter left, Nanami cleared his throat to speak, but you cut him off again.

“After everything, you have no right to try and pry into my personal life and then get upset with me based on your own assumptions. You lost that right when you chose not to fight for our marriage and took a nap instead.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Maybe it was the wine talking, or the tension between you both, or the way Nanami was acting like he still had some sort of claim over you, but you weren’t going to back down from him this time.

He’s shocked, his brows stitching together in anger. “Or you could have been an adult that night. Instead of waiting to talk about it when I wasn’t exhausted from working towards our dream, you ran away.”

“It was never our dream, Nanami! It was always yours.” You spit back at him, trying to ignore the angry tears threatening to spill. “ You wanted to move, you saw a future in Malaysia and you let it consume everything around you until you had nothing left. Explain to me how that’s my fault.” Your voice shook with rage, your chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. This man was so infuriating.

Okay. Clearly, you both had some unresolved feelings. While you felt a weight lifted off your chest, a relief you didn’t know you needed telling him this, you knew one thing - you never wanted to see Kento Nanami again after tonight.

Nanami said nothing and you watched as the muscle in his jaw ticked over and over and over, the growing silence only fueling your irritation.

“Nothing to say now?” You let out a dry laugh. “So on brand for you honestly. I don’t know why I expected you could have an actual conversation about the hard stuff instead of dismissing it.”

You stood from your chair, grabbing your belongings. “Thank you for dinner, Nanami”, you muttered, not meeting his eyes. “Please don’t contact me again.”

You scurried past him and to the elevators, not bothering to wipe the tears now falling. You pressed the button to go down, wishing the elevator doors to open so you could leave as quickly as possible. You chanced a glance back at Nanami only to see his chair empty. Maybe he took the stairs. The elevator doors opened and you stepped inside, pressing the lobby button.

This was not how you wanted the night to end. Nanami had never been a jealous person in all the time you had known him, but you calling Gojo by his first name was what set him off? You couldn’t wrap your head around it. And what he said to you…

You shook the memories from your head as you leaned back against the wall, letting out a deep sigh as the doors started shutting. Finally, you could run away from here and never look back, never see Nanami again and fully move on with your life. A large hand flew between the doors and your stomach sank, watching as the doors reopened and Nanami stepped into the elevator. Unfortunately for you, the doors closed and left you two alone.

Nanami wasted no time, turning to face you, stopping when he sees your tear stained cheeks. He takes a step towards you and reaches a hand forward. You know you should move, step out of his reach, but you don’t. You let Nanami brush his fingers across your cheek before his hand cups the back of your head and pulls you forward into an embrace.

Your face is buried in his chest, your senses completely overwhelmed with only him. Nanami runs his fingers through your hair and the dam breaks. Your hands fly up to grab on to his jacket, balling the material up in your fists and you sob into him. Your tears soak through his shirt, but you don’t care. The weight of tonight - of seeing Nanami, being reminded of why you left, of your argument - it all comes crashing down on you and you can’t help but to cry into him.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his voice coming out barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry”, he breathes into your hair. You didn’t expect this. You fully expected Nanami to let you leave and do what he did originally - leave you alone. You lean back slightly to look up at him, finally calming yourself down. He looks genuinely remorseful, his own eyes appearing to be holding back their own tears. You hadn’t seen this side of Nanami in so long. You felt your cheeks heat up, no doubt darkening as you both stared intensely into each other’s eyes.

His hands slide up to hold your face and you find yourself holding your breath, your own hands coming up to gently hold his wrists. Your heart is pounding so hard, you wonder if Nanami can hear it. He leans forward and you think he’s going to kiss you, your head automatically tilting up to meet him. But he doesn’t. He runs the tip of his nose up and down the bridge of yours over and over, letting out a shaky breath before he presses his forehead to yours.

“I’m a jealous man and I know I have no right to be. But I can’t stand before you and lie. I acted out. I’m so sorry. Don’t hate me.”

The hold you have on his wrists tighten as you move your nose against his - a small act of intimacy you both indulged in ages ago that you had honestly forgotten about, though your body seemed to remember on its own.

“I’m so sorry. Please forgive me”, He begs. And for a moment, you wonder if he’s apologizing for more than just tonight. “I don’t know what came over me. Please don’t shut me out again. I can’t lose you again. I’m sorry. ”

You inhale shakily. How could you say no to him when he had been trying so hard all night? And though the night went left, a part of you didn’t want to lose Nanami again either.

“Okay”, you whisper.

You’re both standing in the elevator, noses kissing repeatedly until the sound of someone clearing their throat breaks through the silence. You jump apart, quickly realizing you were in the lobby and had an audience waiting to get in. You both apologized profusely before stepping out together.

Nanami checks his watch before turning to you. “Can I- uh give you a ride home? It’s pretty late.”

You nod, accepting that you don’t want to go your separate ways just yet.

———

The ride to your apartment is quiet, but this time it’s a comfortable silence. You can feel Nanami sneaking peeks at you, maybe wanting to speak up but ultimately deciding against it lest he put his foot in his mouth again. You don’t hold it against him. You’re happy to sit in this pocket of peace with him for the time being.

As you pull up, you feel your heartbeat pick up again knowing the end of the night is upon you. Nanami parks the car and turns it off before he gets out and moves to your side to open the door for you. You climb out and give him a gracious smile, moving past him to walk to your door. He follows you, eyes scanning your surroundings.

You reach your door and unlock it. You turn back to Nanami, whose eyes are glued to you. You take in his features. That blonde hair you once loved running your fingers through, those sharp cheekbones you once loved to kiss, those big hands he used to hold you with and you admit to yourself that you miss him. You’ve missed him for so long you can’t remember a time when you didn’t. You missing him was the entire reason you left. You missing him was the reason you couldn’t seem to tell him goodnight and go into your apartment.

Nanami smiles down at you. “Thank you again for having dinner with me. I know the night ended on a sour note and I can’t apologize enough.” He leans down to press a soft kiss on your cheek, wishing you goodnight after.

He turns to leave and like a reflex, your hand shoots out to grab his arm. He spins around, giving you a quizzical look. You don’t know what you’re doing. You don’t know why you’re doing it. You only know that you miss him . So before you can change your mind, you open the door to your apartment and whisper, “Stay”.

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cssns · 20 days

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Please welcome @beckettj to the CSSNS!

How long have you been in the CS/OUAT fandom?

3 years

When did you start shipping Captain Swan?

Pretty much from episode 2.05. My friend responsible for introducing me to the show had already told me about CS and I jumped on board from their first interaction.

What drew you to this event?

I had a ghost fic I started and then abandoned a few years back. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to bring it back to life.

What inspired your topic?

Been playing about with a few fics about ghosts for a few years now, none of which have ever seen the light of day - not sure of the original inspiration for it, but it's certainly a story which has been begging to be told in one form or another. Also inspired by lots of trapped in an elevator prompts throughout the years.

If you would like to share a snippet/sneak peek/summary of your fic or artwork, please use the space below.

Working Summary: Killian Jones is constantly moving but getting nowhere, trapped. Then a woman comes into his world, a woman who might just change everything if only he could get her attention; a feat easier said than done. Emma Swan quickly learns to loathe the elevator in her apartment block. It increasingly feels like the thing is out to mess with her life. But during a brush with death, Emma catches a glimpse of love in the least expected of places; the very elevator meddling with her life. Snippet: “There’s always a ghost in here, there has been for years, trapped against his will, anchored to this very elevator. That’s what the flickering lights are, spectral energy interference. Everything else? The music and the control interference, even this supposed breakdown - that’s all him, crying out to be heard.” “Alright, I’ll bite. I’ve seen your show. It’s all about telling the ghost’s story in hopes of helping them move on. So go on then, what’s this ghost’s story?” A glint of mystery appeared in his blue eyes and he responded enigmatically, “It’s not my story to tell, but who knows? One day, it may be yours.” The elevator whirred, lurching abruptly as it kicked back into motion. There was enough time for one run through of the newly selected song snippet, ‘If there’s something strange, in your neighbourhood, who ya gonna call? Ghostbusters!’ before the elevator reached its scheduled stop. Ping!

What are you looking forward to most about participating in this event?*

Reading all the fics and seeing all the artwork that comes from this event!

Ghost stories are the best! @beckettj will be starting off the CSSNS event by dropping her fic on 7/1! Make sure to say hi to her on Tumblr or Discord.

#cssns24 #get to know me #beckettj

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ml-nolan · 5 months

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Kick's 2023 Fic Roundup (YEEEHA!)

[Please use the Kayne Malevolent voice for that title]

SOOOOOO all domains included—fics, original fiction, nonfiction, and copywriting—I wrote over 300k words this year. Of that, fic was 132,449 words! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥 I'm pretty proud of it, honestly, so I thought I'd hop on the rundown bandwagon.

Thanks to everyone who read my stuff, kudos-d it, commented on it, and yelled with me about it on Tumblr and Discord (Honk-Honk to all my honkos!!! 💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤). Y'all have made my life so much more fun this year.

The Sandman - Dreamling

Music When You Speak [Rated E | 72,075 words]

When incognito rock star Dream of the Endless drifts into Hob Gadling's record store, it's instant attraction. Neither of them expected things to get this serious.

This started out as an experiment in "taking time to enjoy the scenery," so naturally I had to [SPOILER ALERT] add a kidnapping subplot that ends with Dream naked and covered in blood.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Oops.

I'm so glad so many people loved it. I loved it too. Still do.

Playlist here

Aaaaand complimentary ficlet, Piece by Piece [Rated T | 610 words].

I'll Make You Sorry [Rated E | 12,035 words]

Things from Hob's past are making Hob's hookups run screaming into the night, and it's really freaking him out. Dream is very concerned (both that other people are dreaming Hob's dreams and that Hob takes so many lovers).

This is my only canon-adjacent fic (so far) that isn't ficlet or pure smut, and I enjoyed making both of them so deeply uncomfortable. Also I need to write more Corinthian because I found his voice disturbingly easy to emulate. 😂😂😂

On Sex Dreams and Anachronisms [Rated E | 1,818 words]: Two embarrassing times Dream dropped in on Hob's sexy dreams and one much nicer one. Second silliest thing I wrote this year.

(Not) Spellbound [Rated E | 1,192]: This is just bondage smut. You're welcome. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

How to Extract Your Boyfriend from Toxic Internet Culture [Rated G | 704 words]: By far the silliest thing I wrote this year. Features retired Dream's stint as a True Crime Wine Mom.

One Tall Dark Stranger [Rated G | 565 words]: From the prompt "Accidental Hand Touching."

You Will Not Be Bothered [Rated G | 420 words]: From the prompt "picking a leaf/flower petal out of their hair, or brushing dirt off of their face."

I'll Be a Better Man Than My Father Ever Was - Chapter 4 by @chaosclimber | for the Dreamling for Ukraine fundraiser.

[PODFIC] Inappropriate Uses of the Dewey Decimal System and Coworkers by Hob Gadling, no PhD (Chapter 2) by @chaosheadspace | for the Dreamling for Ukraine fundraiser.

Metaphysics by @quillingwords

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The Sandman - Femslash Weekend!

This was so fun, and I have at least one more femslash idea I really hope to have the spoons to finish in January. 💜🖤💜🖤

You're Gonna Catch Hell [Johanna/Mazikeen | Rated E | 2,116 Words]

Johanna Constantine, a gun for hire, is meeting a very dangerous new client at Club Hell. A mysterious woman who spots her right when she enters the club might pose some complications.

Pure smut, although I have an enormous hc around this AU that I'm not sure will ever see the light of day.

Obliterate All Prior Things [Lucienne/Gault | Rated E | Words 3,421]

Whatever horrible thing Lucienne says is happening to The Dreaming is certainly happening. But the other part—the bit where Lucienne thinks she is the reason for it—cannot be allowed to stand. Run away with me, Gault wants to say. We'll find our own way. Be whoever we want. And you can finally rest.

I have huge feelings about Gaulcienne, which will become extremely clear if you read this.

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The Magnus Archives — Goof Troop (aka., TimGerry)

Just an Animal Looking for a Home [Rated E | 33,349 words | Love and Nonsense AU - WIP]

When Tim Stoker came to Pinhole Books, it was like someone jammed a foot on the accelerator of Gerry's life. After a health scare, a wedding to his (let's be honest) soul mate, and the exponential growth of the shop, it's showing no signs of slowing down. Now, Pinhole is opening a second location, their beloved Fiona Law is retiring, and Tim and Gerry are bringing a new canine member into their family. But even good changes can be overwhelming, and Gerry finds himself dealing with old trauma he thought he'd left far behind him. Plus, Tim is unexpectedly forced to face old conflicts, which takes him places where Gerry can't follow. With all these stressors on top of the typical growing pains that come with a still-new marriage, Tim and Gerry have to learn to work through their issues together. It's either that or fall apart.

This is the sequel to Hiding in Plain Sight, which I actually started this in 2022 and took a hiatus while I was writing Music When You Speak (so the word count includes 2022 chapters, don't @ me 😂). It's pretty heavy but I think the break will make the story that much better for it, honestly.

Playlist here.

Also in this AU, a couple ficlets set before TimGerry got together.

What's His Deal? [Rated T | 608 words]: Gerry tries to find out what Tim's deal is. Jon is completely unhelpful. From "Blossoming Romance" Tumblr prompt: "Attempting to find out if they are single/available"

Scoop [Rated E | 682 words]: Gerry has just hired a new employee at Pinhole books, and it may just cost him his sanity. Involves ice cream.

Ad Libitum [Rated E | 1,861 words - WIP]

It's Tim Stoker's first week at The Magnus Conservatory, and his piano accompanist hasn't shown up for auditions. An imposing goth swoops out of the shadows to save him, but Tim worries his instant attraction to the man may make it hard to control himself.

I just started this one! Music conservatory AU where Tim is studying voice and Gerry is a pianist. Excited to see where it goes (honestly, your guess is as good as mine at the moment).

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And of course I've got a book and a Patreon with two serials in progress if you're interested.😉😉😉 But I hope to write a LOT more fic in 2024! Love y'all. 💜🖤💜🖤💜💜🖤💜🖤💜💜🖤💜🖤💜

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ohdeerfully · 12 days

Note

omg hi! I love your writing! I had an alastor x reader request for an idea I can’t get out of my head! Imagine him and the reader secretly pining for each other as besties but just can’t admit it to each other (or themselves lmao). So alastor talks to Rosie about it and she is so shocked that he likes a girl! And after some time the reader decides to go ask Rosie for advice due to her being alastor other bestie and she kinda plays matchmaker for them!

Thank you for reading this and I hope you like the idea! No worries if not tho 💖

hi love! i split this into two parts (second part is already written and posted!), i hope that's okay! reader is also i love mutual pining its so yummy

thanks for the request!

Mutual Dilemma (i)

Alastor x Reader part i part ii TW: none!

join my discord!

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Alastor knew plenty of things about himself and those around him—this was something of a skill he gained throughout his time in Hell as an Overlord. His all-smiles personality, at least to those that didn’t take the ‘myth’ of the Radio Demon seriously enough, earned him plenty of trusting acquaintances that provided him with constant, easy information. He was always confident in this way of things.

But you—just some seemingly ordinary demon at the Hazbin Hotel—you confused him. You made him unsure of himself. When it came to you, there were so many unknown, confusing emotions that made his mind and body swirl with discomfort. There was only one thing he could accept within himself as truth–

He hated you.

He hated you simply for the fact that he didn’t understand you, and you made him doubt himself. Alastor was so used to picking apart the inner workings of those he came across, but everytime the two of you interacted he always found his mind lost and unable to think as if he were a drunk man. Maybe you were doing it on purpose to taunt him; you were placed here by Heaven itself to torture him.

Truthfully he wanted to avoid you at all costs in order to preserve what was left of his sanity, but as time passed it became increasingly difficult as you were aggravatingly involved with the various hotel matters. You had quickly become close friends with Charlie Morningstar herself, so where she was you were likely nearby… so it was nearly impossible to not see you everyday considering his own duties to the hotel.

Currently he had sat himself on an eccentric red armchair in the lobby, hands politely folded over his lap as he observed the conversation in front of him—Vaggie, Charlie, and you were discussing some plan to attract more residents to the hotel, sitting cross-legged by a low table. The group would rarely turn to him for any input, but that matter didn’t really bother him—he was never much help, anyway.

Every now and then Alastor would catch your eyes tentatively look away from the spread of papers on the table to take a peek at him, and each time he would stare back in his usual manner; a spreading, malicious grin and slight tilt in the head, which always made you shoot back to attention to your task. He wasn’t sure why you kept looking, though, but he just chalked it up to the typical sense of fear and anxiety demons usually felt in his presence.

He didn’t fail to notice the light pang in his chest each time he caught your eyes—a weird, twisting feeling of emotion that he couldn’t recognize. He wanted nothing more than to tear those eyes of yours right out for even looking his way since they seemed to be the culprit of the discomfort; but, at the same time, it was like a mysterious force held him incapable of laying a hand on you and cursed his body with even more of those strange feelings at the mere idea of you being hurt.

It was something he never really cared to explore too deeply within himself as he was content with simply believing it would pass with time.

◈

You, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to explore the strong emotions that you actually were able to recognize as love; or, something similar… love was a strong word to use when referring to the Radio Demon of all creatures in Hell.

Still, it hurt your soul to see the complete and utter lack of care towards your existence in general that he seemed to hold for you. He played friends when it mattered, which was particularly in cases like this when Charlie, Vaggie, him, and you were all trying to plan something—with mostly Charlie doing the work, you were kind of just her yes-man—but otherwise he seemed to just… avoid you. Ignore you unless it came with some benefit.

Everybody knew how the Radio Demon went about relationships, and you weren’t any less wise, but it still hurt. You could convince yourself to be happy with just a friendship with the guy, but even that was impossible when any opportunity you had to get closer to him was met with that deranged grin. You couldn’t find yourself afraid of it, though, because alongside the swimming malice in his crimson eyes there was also a hint of… confusion or doubt, like a child learning something terrifying or life-changing. Of course, maybe you were just delusional.

Charlie’s hand brushed against your arm, and you realized you had just been staring blankly at the small spread of papers on the black wooden table in front of you. You blinked a few times, startled by the sudden tug into reality, but smiled once you realized what you had been doing. You sheepishly apologized before asking her to repeat her question.

“Actually…” She said slowly while holding her knees with her hands and rocking backwards. “It’s pretty late… you seem tired. Let’s call it a night?”

“Are you sure?” You asked, stifling a yawn. You hadn’t even noticed exhaustion creeping upon you, but it seemed to swing in full force when she mentioned it. “I know this is important to you.”

“And the comfort of my guests is more important!” She stated proudly, standing up alongside her girlfriend. She held out a hand to you, which you took gratefully. You grimaced at the stiffness in your legs as you stood and placed a hand against your back as you craned your spine to crack it.

“Alright,” You sighed after Charlie urged you to get some sleep again. You waved her goodbye before her and Vaggie left the room, leaving you… and Alastor. He was getting up from the armchair just as you turned around, and you quickly tried to think of something to say, desperate for a conversation. Why was your heart beating so fast? You were going to embarrass yourself.

“You better run along, now,” Alastor said when he noticed you lingering. His voice being directed at you made goosebumps run up your arms. He had his hands folded together behind his back and he bent slightly at the waist to loom over you. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint our dear princess now, would we?”

“And you?” You asked back. You knew he didn’t really sleep, you were just hoping to make conversation. He narrowed his eyes slightly down at you.

“I’ve planned a trip to Cannibal Town,” Alastor explained with closed eyes, straightening himself to stand to his full height. He opened his eyes again to peer at you—it made you nervous to be the subject of his bright red gaze. “I have a dear friend I’ve been meaning to see.”

You nodded absently in response, Rosie’s face immediately coming to mind. You were good friends with her, and knew of the mutual connection the three of you had. You wondered briefly if you should go to her about your latest troubles. Before you could think of anything else to add to the current conversation, he bid you goodnight and briskly left the room. He seemed unnaturally hurried in his pace, but you didn’t think much of it. He had a tendency to just be a bit weird.

A breath that you didn’t even realize you were holding escaped your lungs after the large entrance doors creaked shut. You opted that yes, you were going to go talk to Rosie—tomorrow. You were growing more and more aware of just how tired you were as you stood in the silent room. Plus, maybe it would do some good to sleep on your emotions.

◈

Alastor couldn’t comprehend the mixture of emotions in him; he was mad, frustrated, but all at the same time… endeared by you. How could he feel so much disdain and hatred for someone, yet still have some feeling of care for them? He had been able to at least reach the conclusion that he did care for you, but that didn’t explain the pit in his stomach he got every time your gaze met his.

Rosie would know, surely, or at least be able to give some insight to why he was so conflicted. She was much more in-tune with emotions and mentality and all the type of stuff that Alastor had always been so quick to push away from his care. Plus, she was the only demon in Hell that he could even open a fraction of his mind to.

It was a quick trip to Cannibal Town, his legs carrying him faster than usual. He had given a suave wave and pleasant smile to the various cannibal ladies that always swooned by his presence; something that he had never really thought twice about, but now images of you and your own smile flashed in his mind’s eye when he waved. His eyes narrowed subconsciously at the experience.

The door to Rosie’s Emporium was soon being pushed open by his hand, and he lightly stepped in, hanging his coat up on a nearby rack. It didn’t take long at all for Rosie to realize she had a guest—and even faster for her to realize who the guest was.

“Alastor!” She said cheerfully. They shared a quick embrace before she beckoned him to sit with her at a table against the wall, already prepared to start talking. She knew he only showed up when he needed something.

“My, it’s been a minute,” She observed, leaning her head on her hand. It had really only been a week at most, but Alastor decided against contradicting her.

“Truly, my darling,” He simply agreed. “I have a question.”

“Well I didn’t doubt it.”

Alastor hummed, leaning back in the chair as he tried to form a coherent explanation. How was he to describe a situation he couldn’t even begin to understand himself? Rosie was ghostly silent as she waited, her pearly teeth only slightly peeking between the light smile on her lips.

“That one demon at the hotel—a mutual friend of ours—the one that's always hanging out with Charlie and–”

“I know them,” Rosie cut him off with a waving hand, urging him to get to the actual point. There was a new, sneaky curl in her grin as he spoke with a nearly undetectable stammer in his otherwise smooth voice.

“Well… for the longest time now, it’s like I feel… weird, around them. A weird feeling in my gut that I’ve never felt before. It enrages me, and I want nothing more than to just kill them and get it out of my mind, but, at the same time…” He trailed for a moment. He felt a little embarrassed, truthfully though he would never admit it, that he was practically rambling on about some random demon. He felt like a middle school boy.

Rosie’s hand had found its way to her mouth as he spoke, blocking what Alastor assumed was either a shocked open mouth or a wide smile she didn’t want to share. She inhaled sharply, composing herself, before placing her hand back onto the table.

“Well, I’ll be. I never thought I’d see the day that the Radio Demon…” She paused for a moment and pursed her lips, carefully thinking about the next few words as if what she was going to say would blow his mind into a million pieces. Alastor furrowed his brows and tilted his head to the side expectantly and confused.

“Alastor… do you have… a crush on them?”

A comical record scratch effect sounded from Alastor’s cane as his shoulders stiffened and smile tightened all at once. He looked almost offended at the idea, but at the same time there was an odd look of uncertainty in his expression.

“What? No.”

Rosie laughed aloud at the shocked and almost angry looking expression on his face, ears flattened to their fullest extent as he struggled to maintain his cheerful demeanor. His mind wasn’t exploded into a million pieces, but his whole self-perception was definitely damaged.

Alastor, although upset, thanked her for the help, excused himself, and stood quickly to leave. He was thankful that Rosie was understanding and didn’t try to convince him to “talk it out” or anything. The only thing she said was an invitation to lunch at a local shop the next day if he wanted to talk to her more—she would be there just in case.

Truthfully, Alastor had already started suspecting the romantic feelings building inside of him before Rosie confirmed the idea; he had just refused to fully acknowledge or even begin to accept them.

He, Alastor—The Radio Demon—had no room in his soul for trivial things like romance. Even in life he had refused to pursue the experience. So why were you suddenly an exception to this? Why did you make his heart boil with a confusing mixture of love and hate; why did your presence make his chest feel heavier and why did you, of all creatures in Hell, make him nervous? Not even the strongest Overlords that had gone against him made him nervous.

Alastor walked back to the Hotel at a snail’s pace, dreading the return and dreading the sight of you. Now that his suspicions of emotion were confirmed by Rosie herself, he wasn’t sure how his nerves would react. Would he finally snap in frustration at how you affected him and just kill you? Part of him hoped to, but another felt ill at the mere thought.

It was late when he got back, and to his luck you were evidently asleep. He paused for the briefest moment as he passed your hotel room door, eyes trailing over the knob before he caught his senses and hurried to his own quarters.

The familiar tranquility of his personalized, swampy room with twinkling fireflies and light cricket noises helped him clear his mind as he found a cozy spot to sit and ruminate. Maybe he would go see Rosie for lunch tomorrow.

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part ii

#ohdeerfully #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #fluff #alastor x you #mutual pining #YUMMMYYYY #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x you

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