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yourdoorisunlocked · 1 month

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ᴏɴʟʏ ʜɪᴍ

𝐀/𝐍: A very late oneshot for a cute request I got, I hope it's worth the wait! I'll try to be more consistent with posting, but life is throwing me actual curveballs rn, so patience is appreciated! And my LORD the wattpad-ass songs I keep picking out for these fics are always sending me- 💀✋ Also, Reader is AFAB in this one (since the wife fantasies this man has about Reader are UNTAMEABLE LMAO)

. . .

➺ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. ➺ 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝖉𝖔 𝖎 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖆 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 | 𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖈 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖐𝖊𝖞𝖘 ➺ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 𝟑,𝟐𝟔𝟐

“How long I’ve waited, darling. You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me...”

. . .

There was something about Alastor that deeply intrigued you.

He always seemed to carry suave, foreboding darkness dancing upon the edges of unpredictability with a smile as sharp as a razor.

What others found unnerving, you labeled as charming and ‘eccentric,’ when it came to Alastor. You simply didn’t care about the worse aspects of him, or rather, you accepted them with such ease that it surprised even the most estranged of demons.

And though he was wary of your intentions, at first, Alastor soon recognized your unusual fascination with him and determination to befriend him as quite flattering, from such an alluring young lady like yourself. So, Alastor decided to humor you and make nice with you, since it was... difficult to have a good friend, especially with his status as an Overlord, to say the least.

Apart from Rosie - who, mind you, was occupied with her Emporium most of the time - he didn't have much else in his afterlife that didn't relate to the hotel. And though this silly endeavor was proving to be quite the source of entertainment, the issue still stood.

Those below Alastor that didn’t turn tail and run at the first sound of radio static would only test his patience, whether that be at the end of Vaggie’s angelic spear or the punchline of a raunchy joke from Angel Dust.

Suffice it to say, Alastor was grateful for your company, though he’d never admit it, and had grown terribly fond of you.

Almost attached, one could say. Though one would be skewered and sliced open before they could finish that heinous accusation.

Sure, Alastor had possibly grown a tender spot for you in his wretched, rotted heart, but who wouldn’t take a bit of an obsession liking to the tangles and locks of your hair that he could only dream of twisting around his red-tipped claws? Or the delicate curl of your lips as you lifted your face into a crooked smile that had burned itself into his memory, making his heart pound erratically within his chest?

And, ah, there you are, now. Working the coffee machine and putting a polite hand to your mouth as you yawned softly, still in your pajamas with your hair amess and your eyes struggling to stay open as they fluttered, before landing on him.

“Oh, Alastor! Good morning,” a glimpse of your small, tired smile made his heart jump to his throat as he stepped forward with his hands behind his back.

“Good morning, my dear! And how was your night?”

You brightened at the question, your smile growing. Yes. Give him more, give him more of your happiness, your smile-

“Oh, it was a wonderful dream, Al’! I can’t wait to tell you all about it.”

He leaned against the counter, preening at how his name rolled so perfectly off your tongue. “By all means, do tell, darling~."

Alastor was none too ashamed, despite his reputation as a gentleman, that his eyes were solely trained upon your lips the entire time you spoke, his smile growing in size with each glimpse of your tongue that he could manage to catch.

“Hm... That’s very nice, my dear,” he nodded along absentmindedly as you ranted animatedly, enjoying the brightness behind your eyes while you made yourself breakfast.

How tempting and sweet was the visage of you, as Alastor’s sweet, doting little wife, making yourselves breakfast and waving him off to his radio tower with your delectable, kissable smile and a cup of black coffee.

“Oh, and there was a- Al'? Alastor, are you even listening?”

Alastor smoothly brought himself from his trance “I do believe you were going on about seeing a deer, of some kind? With fur-"

"Softer than anything I've ever felt? I'm surprised you were even able to hear me over your own thinking." You glanced over at him with concern. “You’ve been spacing out like that a lot, recently. Are you alright?”

“Top of my game, my dear! Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d be worried over me~,” Alastor leaned forward against the counter, laying his chin upon his intertwined claws as he tilted his head up at you, grinning wider at your flustered blush.

“Well-! Of course, I’m worried about you. You’re my friend, after all...” you turned away, missing the way Alastor deflated at that cursed title that he’d seemed to acquire, despite being your closest confidant, your partner-in-crime, your partner, period.

But good things came to those who waited, Alastor supposed.

As the both of you continued to converse, you half-cringing, half-laughing at his onslaught of puns and ‘dad jokes,’ as you jokingly called them, a pair of excited hooves bounded down the hallway, and an excited princess of Hell jumped into the kitchen beside her tired girlfriend, who was still rubbing her drooping eyes.

“Good morning, guys!” Charlie squealed as she ran across the room, collecting the different points for her plan of Project: Redemption that she had left for you to organize overnight.

“Hey, there,” Vaggie yawned softly as she slumped into the room, and You shook your head with a chuckle. Poor girl must’ve stayed up all night, listening to Charlie’s rants about her plans for the Hazbin Hotel, since its major renovations and redesign, courtesy of Lucifer himself.

“Well, aren’t you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed? What’s got you so worked up, now?” You poured Vaggie a cup of coffee and she took it with an appreciative smile.

“Well...” Charlie looked to Vaggie, who nodded encouragingly. “My dad’s going to visit the hotel again!” She bounced on her heels, oblivious to how Alastor stiffened beside you, and you inwardly groaned.

Here we go again, you sighed tiredly as you prepared for the radio host’s snark towards the King of Hell.

Those two had been at each other’s necks since Lucifer had offered his help in advertising the hotel, and the mere mention of the Fallen Angel’s name would set Alastor off on an hour-long rant.

“Is that so?” Static thickened his voice with malice as his ears swerved backwards, pointed and alert as you followed them with a stifled giggle. Alastor never seemed to notice the more adorable aspects of his demonic nature, being a deer demon. Then again, he probably chose to ignore them, trying to preserve his image more than anything.

You took a slow sip of coffee as you glanced at his backside. I wonder if he has a tail, too.

“C’mon, Al’. It’s her dad, you can at least be a little supportive.”

His eyes widened towards you as you shrugged. “Not you, too!”

“Hmph! I thought you’d have the sense to at least take my side on this one. Have I not been nothing but devoted to you?" Alastor batted his eyelashes at you, pretending to pout as you snorted.

“Well, it’s not like he’s going to move in, right? You still technically have the hotel all to yourself,” you rub his shoulder in an attempt to sooth him, unaware of the surprised glance that Vaggie and Charlie shared.

“...I suppose you’re right. At least he won't be staying here, in that gaudy apartment of his!" He laughed, referring to the apple tower that Lucifer had built when the hotel was under re-construction.

“Um, ha-ha, about that...” the princess twiddled her fingers with a strained grin, and his smile tensed further.

“No...” your eyes widened in disbelief. There was no way... She wouldn’t!

But it’d make sense, wouldn’t it? I mean, the hotel wouldn’t be sporting that super-subtle apple-shaped tower for nothing, right?

“Ɏꝋᵾ ᵯēⱥꞥ ⱦꝋ ⱦēłł ᵯē, ɏꝋᵾ īꞥꝟīⱦēđ ⱦħⱥⱦ ƀⱥꞩⱦⱥɍđ ꝋꝟēɍ ⱦꝋ ꞨȾȺɎ ĦɆꞦɆ!?-”

“Alright, alright, take five.” You sighed and looked towards Charlie, who shifted nervously in her spot as Alastor stood off to the side with palpable anger.

“I’m sorry if it’s too soon, and I know you’ve never met my dad before, but I promise, he’s just trying to help the hotel. Just... give him a chance? Please?”

“It’s fine, I’m fine with it, but I know someone who won’t be,” with a glance towards the self-proclaimed ‘Host of the Hotel,’ you took Charlie’s hands in yours. “I’m glad that you’re reconnecting with your dad, okay? Just... warn us, next time. Specifically, warn him,” you side-eyed where the Radio Demon was scrutinizing the both of you, small voodoo sigils floating around his form with an eerie glow.

A soft smile graced her features. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, I was just so excited! Dad’s really trying, you know? And I promise, he really wants to help the hotel."

You turned towards Alastor. “Now, do you think you can settle down? For Charlie?” You avoided the word ‘behave’ for the sake of not being eviscerated on the spot.

"Hm... Perhaps, but you must promise to stay by my side the entire time," Alastor gripped your shoulder for emphasis, and you rolled your eyes and reached up his collar.

"Alright then... I guess I can manage that."

His eyes trailed up and down your figure, and all his cultivated anger evaporated as you fixed his bowtie, clearly a bit jittery yourself.

Lucifer may have had the hotel, hell, he could take Alastor’s place, for all he cared. He didn’t even want the blasted position in the first place, not before Lucifer challenged it. But the King of Hell didn’t - couldn’t - have you, and that alone was enough to pacify Alastor, for now.

He shook away the confusion that came with the sudden bout of possessiveness from the thought of you so much as sharing an interaction with the Fallen Angel and dismissed you to retreat into the shadows until Lucifer arrived.

It was 1:00 P.M. on the dot, and the doors burst open as shimmering crimson light poured into the room, and the King of Hell, the infamous Fallen Angel himself stood before the newly furnished lobby with his arms widely outstretched for his much taller daughter to embrace her.

“Charlie!”

“Hi, Dad!”

As the two Morningstars greeted each other with a tight hug, you almost gushed at how adorably similar they looked, despite the height difference.

You also noted how Lucifer immediately narrowed his eyes at Alastor, gloved hands clutching his cane in a strangling grip, as if he were restraining himself from giving the radio host a beatdown with it.

“Bellhop,” Lucifer spat without missing a beat.

“Deadbeat,” Alastor shot back with a malicious grin.

You groaned and slapped your forehead. I just talked to him about this!

“And just who might this be?” Lucifer raised a dark eyebrow towards you, and you stepped forward – away from Alastor to his dismay – to properly introduce yourself to Charlie’s father. “A first good impression goes a long way,” as your mother liked to say.

“Hello,” you smiled and gave Lucifer your name, side-eyeing Alastor as he scoffed heatedly at your misplaced politeness. But, in his defense, it truly was! There was no reason to pay any heed to that short-stacked, duck-loving ȼɍēⱦīꞥ!

“Oh! Yes, this is our newest resident at the hotel! She's been a big help, especially around the kitchen!" Charlie squealed with enthusiasm, practically singing your praises in front of her father and you blushed.

“It's nice to meet you," you held out your hand to shake his, and a soft smirk pulled at Lucifer’s pale features as he bent down at the waist at a perfect angle, laying a chaste, feathery kiss against the back of your hand. “Charmed, I’m sure~.”

The king’s eyes trailed from up your waist before making heated eye contact with you, rising slowly from his bow.

The screech of a record player from behind made you flinch, but you attempted a clumsy curtsy and ignored Alastor’s rising temper, sigils flying about from the display of unearned affection. “Likewise, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, no need for such formalities. Just Lucifer is fine, my dear."

“Oh, alright then... Lucifer.” The Fallen Angel’s smirk widened into a toothy smile that contrasted yet was quite comparable to Alastor’s terrifying grimace as he took you by the arm and pulled you along into the freshly revamped hotel lobby.

"Charlie, you didn’t tell me such a doll was staying here! I would’ve visited sooner, you know,” the king laughed, and you chuckled along awkwardly as you glanced back at your crimson-clad friend, who was seething in his place as he watched you walk beside the king's sauntering pace, pure confidence and smugness radiating from Lucifer as Charlie smiled at you apologetically.

Alastor’s pointed ears were pinned backwards, and the raven tips of his hair sharpened as his lips rose slightly above his gums in an enraged sneer.

“You know, I remodeled most of this place,” Lucifer grinned up at you while you looked around with appreciative eyes, and Alastor trailed closely behind the both of you, along with Charlie who looked up at him with confusion.

“Is that so? In that case, I really must thank you for giving the kitchen a well-needed upgrade! It’s so much easier to work my way around it, now.”

"Oho, of course, my dear! Anything for you~," he grinned devilishly up at you, chuckling at the soft blush that tinged your cheeks as the screech of radio static crackled and electrified the air.

Alastor hated it. Despised it. The way you were smiling at Lucifer like that, like you’d been friends for ages, like he’d been the one to bring you on delightful outings, make you laugh yourself sick over whiskey, pull you into spontaneous dances and be a shoulder to lean on whenever you needed it most.

Not like that you'd ever gone to Alastor in such a sorrowful state, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t the first that you’d go to for that kind of thing.

Why were you gushing over Lucifer? Weren’t you closer to Alastor? Didn't you like him better?

Oh, now this just won't do...

"Darling. A word?"

You nearly flinched at Alastor's seemingly cheery, yet short and clipped tone, clearly peeved at something, though you were completely clueless. Maybe Lucifer really pissed him off that much and he needed a breather?

Shaking off your nerves, you nodded politely and missed the way Alastor preened with approval, shooting Lucifer a smug glare as he placed his hand upon the small of your back and pushed you along towards a private spot in the middle of the hallway.

Alastor's ear turned in the direction of the two Morningstars as Charlie and Lucifer retreated down the hallway to his room. Once he was sure they were gone, he snatched your wrist and pulled you inside of a hotel room just left of you.

The door shut behind you both, and you tried not to tremble under Alastor's smoldering gaze while you stared up at him, confused by his sudden fury.

"So, care to explain why that pint-sized excuse of a king was cozying up to you?" The words shot like gunfire from his lips, his insults carrying the weight of bullets as Alastor towered over you while clutching his staff.

"I was only being polite..." you wrung your hands sheepishly as Alastor scoffed down at you, his smile becoming more of a curled snarl.

"And besides, why would you care so much about what Lucifer thinks of me? I'm still your friend." When your hand takes his in its warm grip, Alastor has to resist the urge to melt.

Because I don't want to be 'just your friend,' was what Alastor wanted to say. Because I want your beauty and laughter all to myself, I want you to be mine, you need to be mine-

"Because I-" Alastor took pause, as if the mere notion of caring about you more than he should stole the very breath from his lungs.

His claws reached up to caress your cheek, and you shuddered from the tickle of contact, keeping your gaze focused on him. "Because you're the only person who makes me question myself. The only person who I... who I want to call my own." The words tumbled from his lips, hesitant yet ringing pure truth and adoration for you, and Alastor looked away from you for a moment, unable to meet your gaze, impatient for your answer.

Slowly, scared that he'd disappear into the shadows and that glimmer of vulnerability would fade should you move too fast, you leaned forward into Alastor's touch, nuzzling against his palm.

"And... And if I happen to feel the same way? What would you do, then?"

Alastor's eyes widened slightly at the confession, and he took a slow few steps forward to push you up against the wall, his gaze darkened and yearning as his warm breath fanned against your lips.

"I'd tell you to be care of what you wish for, darling~."

Sharp, yellow teeth pricked, and soft, gentle lips sucked and kissed around your collarbones and neck, as Alastor shivered and rumbled ever so softly at the taste of you, the feeling of marking you as his own as you whimpered and shivered beneath him with want.

His shadow flew to the door, turning the lock with a definite click and trapping you inside with the man who'd fantasized of ravaging you since months ago, when a pretty little doe wandered into his office.

You moaned against Alastor, limply allowing one of his hands to hold your wrists above your head as his leg came between yours, and he rose to face you, lines of crimson dripping down the side of his lips.

Alastor's lips hungrily captured yours, and he made no hesitation to slip his long, black tongue beyond your lips and into your mouth, greedily swallowing your moans while wetness dripped between your legs, and his own made an obscene stain against Alastor's pants.

You panted as he pulled away, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck and kissing just below his jawline as he pressed his throbbing erection against you.

“How long I’ve waited, darling. You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me...”

Alastor's hands ripped at his coat, hastily unbuttoning it from his vest before he pressed against you once more, eager to have you back in his arms.

His eyes darkened down at you as you started pulling at your blouse, desperate to pull him flush against your bare skin as he leaned over you, his slender arms caging you in beneath him.

"Oh, I'm going to devour you, ma chère... Show you just who you belong to..."

He inched closer as the sound of static grew thick in the air, tickling against your arms and making the hairs on the back of your neck rise as pure, carnal desire engulfed the both of you.

"P-Please..."

The doorknob rattled.

Knock, knock.

"Hey, uh- Is everything okay in there?" Charlie's concerned voice sounded through the door, and the both of you instantly froze, Alastor's hands still hovering over the belt buckle of his pants.

"Fuck," an irritated, animalistic growl rumbled from him, and he stood up to his full height as he glanced apologetically down at you, tilting your chin up to face him.

"I'm afraid we'll have to postpone this, darling."

Alastor planted a long, heated kiss against your lips, his tongue savoring every taste of you that he could manage before he brushed out his hair and pulled his coat from the ground and back onto his shoulders.

"Not to worry..." Alastor buttoned up your blouse, his eyes lingering on your cleavage for a few more moments than normally and turned on his heel and plastered his trademark smile back onto his face.

"We'll continue our little show, later."

. . .

𝐄𝐧𝐝 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: Bet ya'll didn't expect that, huh? Caught in 4k smh

Ok, so there is a LOT going on rn and I'm trying my darndest to keep up with a consistent schedule (I say after going radio silent - pun intended - for a goddamn week) BUT I SWEAR THINGS ARE GOING UNDER WAY, chapter one of 'What A Dish, What A Doll' is getting a rewrite, I'm trying to finish more requests and headcanons, and the VOX FIC NEEDS TO BE UPDATED-

it's just a lot lmao, but y'all's patience is super appreciated!!

. . .

➺ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @starsformydarlingmazel, @chitter-chatter, @hazzbindarlingg, @darkangel582, @matrixbearer2024, @prosciuttosblog, @frog-fans-unite, @mysterypotatoink, @burgerflipper72, @chibikochannumberone, @strawberry-gothic, @roboticsuccubus83, @lulurubberduckie, @fangirlanxiety74, @viviannagiorgini, @localmsifan, @justtnat, @karolinda007-blog, @mglawwica, @wonderlandangelsposts, @saitisfied, @repostingmyfavs, @weirdflower2024, @montis-posts, @sirens-and-moonflowers, @theperfectmangovoid, @slytherin4ever, @i-love-jafar, @itzlochnessie, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, @susvale, @valentique, @twismare, @robin-the-enby, @v3n7s, @forbidden-sunlight, @leathesimp, @matemor, @groovybear99, @frompeach, @moonmark98, @nyxnightshade7656, @sushigogo

➺ 𝑩𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝑪𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑩𝒚 @cafekitsune - 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫!

#alastor x reader #yourdoorisunlocked #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #possessive behavior #obsession #oooh this was so fun to write!✨#requests

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garoujo · 2 years

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HOW THEY APOLOGISE AFTER AN ARGUMENT — JUJUTSU KAISEN

feat : gojo satoru, fushiguro toji, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuuji + geto suguru

♱ warnings — none, sfw . f! leaning petnames used.

♱ note — this came 2 me so suddenly in the shower also everyone say hewo 2 toji <3 this is rly like how they make you feel better after an argument -not proof read-

・✶ ｡ﾟGOJO SATORU

you and satoru didn’t argue a lot but when you did he was always annoying, as much as he wanted to solve the issue you just always felt like he wasn’t taking you seriously — you knew that his more playful attitude was more a coping mechanism, and sometimes it worked to make you feel better — but not all the time.

you’re in the kitchen angrily washing some dishes when you hear a few knocks on the door followed by gojo’s all too familiar drawl, you’d left the room around half an hour ago and you know he was probably giving you time to calm down before he made his move. “there’s my sweet girl. y’okay?” he hums, and although his tone carries a softer undercurrent than it usually does — you still refuse to turn to face him when you hear him begin to approach you. “the silent treatment, huh? you’re gonna break my heart.”

gojo’s words are accompanied by his arms wrapping loosely around your waist, pulling you into his chest as his chin rests along the dip of your shoulder from behind — occasionally inching closer to the crook of your neck until you finally speak to him. “what do you want?” you ask sharply and you hear the snowy haired sorcerer hiss like you’ve burned him before he’s pressing a short kiss against your neck and gently turning you in his hold — your soapy hands and all as he gives you a fond sort of look when your narrowed gaze meets his.

“y’know i hate when you’re mad, princess.” gojo groans, lips almost jutting out into a pout just so he can see the whisper of a smile that’s threatening to curl at the corners of your lips. “hey.. i’m sorry. jus’ talk to me.” his words are earnest and accompanied by one of his large palms smoothing along your waist to squeeze the skin affectionately, the other resting against your cheek before he’s following the touch with a lingering kiss against your temple and a slow grin. “you’re so annoying, ‘toru.” you huff, but you allow yourself to lean into his touch before he’s pulling away to let his smile tug even wider. “oh? but something tells me you love it, sweet thing.”

・✶ ｡ﾟFUSHIGURO TOJI

he was never exactly one to beat around the bush, during arguments he was always blunt and straight to the point — it’s what you’d expect from him his natural dominance and sharp edges, but that doesn’t mean he liked arguing with you. toji would be lying if he said he hated when you were mad at him.

it’s quiet when toji walks into the living room, casting you a glance as you sit with your arms folded over your chest at the very edge of the sofa knowing he’s going to sit on the other side. you can feel the way his gaze is narrowed on you, but you make a show of not meeting it when he lets his heavy body fall onto the cushions at the other side — lazily grabbing the tv remote to flick through the channels aimlessly before he speaks.

“you still pissed?” toji asks, his voice a low drawl and you can tell by the speed the tv screen is changing he’s not paying attention to it. “what do you think?” you bite, earning yourself a click of the tongue from the dark haired male at the end of the couch before you’re turning to send him a frown. “come on now. don’t gimme that look, sweetheart.” and you hate the effect his words seem to have on you despite how mean he can be, letting your eyes roll before you’re snapping back. “i’m not sending you any sort of look.”

but toji truly does hate when you’re mad at him, throwing the tv remote back onto the armrest of the couch before he’s reaching over to wrap his fingers gently around your ankle, pulling you across the cushions and into his side instead with a groan. “like hell you ain’t. cmeer.” you could try kick him off but he’s stronger than you, and there was still a certain comfort you felt when he let your thighs rest over his own — his calloused palms smoothing along your calves like he’s trying to make you feel better, the only way he really knows how as his other hand props his head up. “sorry for pissin’ you off, so quit that shit, alright?”

・✶ ｡ﾟFUSHIGURO MEGUMI

it was unlikely for you and megumi to argue, it was normally petty and probably could be easy avoided but he wasn’t too good at sugar coating his words and could be a little blunt. although he was always fast to pick up on whether or not something was wrong with you — especially if he’s the reason.

you’re wrapped up in a blanket in the bedroom, following an argument with megumi that although was mostly resolved, you still felt a little hurt and vulnerable after regardless and needed some time to calm down. he respects that, so it’s around 20 minutes later when you hear the first few knocks on your bedroom door followed by a soft “im coming in.” before your boyfriend is awkwardly shuffling in to stand in the doorway.

you can tell he’s still a little uncomfortable from the argument, treading with caution as he swallows heavily and begins to ask you questions that you know he knows the answer to — but it’s the only thing he can think of so you’ll talk to him. “hey.. uh, do you know where i put my jacket?” megumi grunts, avoiding your gaze as he begins to fiddle around with random brushes and things scattered around the desk at the corner of the room. “in the doorway where you left it maybe?” you reply sharply and your answer makes him scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck before he’s clearing his throat and trying again.

“thanks. uh.. if you’re cold, the living room is warmer. we can watch a movie, i mean if you want.” megumi mumbles, gesturing to the blanket you have wrapped around your shoulders, and watching him shuffle around with a random hairbrush in his hands makes you melt a little before you’re letting yourself get up and approach him. “that sounds nice.” you sigh and you almost see his lips upturn softly when he looks at you. “i’m sorry again, about earlier. i don’t like not talking to you.”

・✶ ｡ﾟITADORI YUUJI

it was extremely rare for you and yuuji to get into arguments, it normally involved you having to take a few moments to yourself to calm down just to stop yourself being mean. he truly didn’t ever want to make you upset, but sometimes he just didn’t know what he did to make you mad.

itadori is still in the exact same spot you left him when you walk back into the room, watching him stand up from his place on the couch before he’s approaching you — a little more hesitant than usual but you can tell he’s trying to respect your feelings. “i’m sorry, are you still mad?” he asks honestly, his eyes are wide and his lips are jutted out ever so slightly and you can’t deny that the sight of him looking so upset about you being upset makes you feel warm.

“i feel a little better.” you huff, meeting his gaze with your own before your features soften at the way his seem to brighten with your words. “can we talk again, baby? i don’t like when you’re mad.” itadori’s words are slightly muffled through his subtle pout but the way his hands gently rest on your hips is so familiar that you can’t help but melt back into him, already feeling any irritation leave when you gives you a few moments to push him away before pulling you in for a hug completely.

“do you need anything? i can make it up to you.” his words are louder now, a little happier before he’s smearing a short kiss against your cheek through a smile, pulling away to meet your gaze once more afterwards. “just this is fine, yuuji.” and the next squeeze of his arms around your waist makes you wrap your own around his shoulders before he’s pulling you to press his lips against yours. “i’ll be better, baby. i promise.”

・✶ ｡ﾟGETO SUGURU

geto was a big believer in just talking about whatever was on your mind, although sometimes you couldn’t help but be annoyed for petty reasons and didn’t feel like trying to explain it. but he always picked up on it quickly, his eyes narrowed on your figure as you let every silence between you both linger a little too long.

you can feel geto’s gaze burning through your figure from across the room, his arms crossed as he leans against the kitchen counter and watches the way you’re deliberately ignoring him. he waits until you go to walk past him, running an exasperated hand over his face before he’s gently wrapping an arm around your figure and curling you closer to him. “you’re still mad at me.” he grunts, finger pinching softly at your jaw just so he can make your gaze meet his because he can tell you’re trying to avoid it.

“am not.” you huff, pouty lips jutting out as you try to wriggle out of his hold but it only makes him hold you tighter. “think i can’t tell when my princess is mad? hey, talk to me.” geto’s voice is smooth and it’s a tone that makes you feel at ease when he finally manages to get your gaze to lock with him, a crooked but soft smile on his lips that makes all of the tangled thoughts in your head suddenly feel as straight forward as ever, and that makes you huff at how ridiculous you feel now even after the issue is resolved.

“i’m just being petty.” you finally admit and you feel geto physically relax into you before he’s huffing out a laugh and pressing a quick kiss against your lips. “i’m sorry again ‘bout earlier, baby. you sure you’re good?” he’s asking again just to be sure and you know that if something really was wrong he’d listen, you can tell by the gentleness in his touch and the fondness that still pools in his eyes. “everything is fine, sugu. promise!”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #itadori x reader #itadori fluff #geto x reader #geto fluff #toji x reader #toji fluff

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fourmoony · 3 months

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hi, I just wanted to let you know that reading your writing brings me so much comfort and joy. Today, I found out that the person I’ve liked for the longest time has a girlfriend, and it’s been hard to say the least. It also didn’t help that I read an unrequited love blurb featuring remus as soon as I got home 😭 I was just wondering if you’d be willing to write something where the reader assumes that remus doesn’t like her because he seems aloof, but is actually just nervous because he likes her so much. I am so appreciative of you and your beautiful work, as always 🤍

this made me tear up. your words are so kind, and are the push i needed this week to keep writing <3 never in a million years did i think anyone would think this about my writing. thank you.

i'm sorry to hear about your crush; unrequited love is a tricky and heavy feeling. i have no doubt you'll find your person, though. as someone who's had my fair share of heartache, i promise, it won't hurt forever. my friends think i'm crazy because my advice is always to just let it hurt. but one day you'll wake up and you'll have run out of hurt. and you won't even remember what you saw in them, anymore. sending love.

P.S. i suck at writing shy remus so this is more like silent, unreadable remus. idk i'm tired. hope this is okay!

---

remus lupin x f!reader - masterlist 1.2k words

cw - implied self esteem issues, smoking, drinking

Remus' thumping steps carry up the staircase only seconds after you call on him. You're facing the mirror when he arrives in the doorway, hair clasped to the side in one hand, and the other reaching aimlessly for the zip half way down the back of your dress. His eyes find yours over your shoulder in the reflection, a fond smile passing over his features when he steps through the threshold into your room.

"You look lovely." He comments, voice warm and smooth in the way that it always is.

Warm Remus, smooth Remus, so fond and kind, feels like home and everything familiar. His fingers are warm as he tugs gently at the zip, one hand placed on your shoulder for leverage. His touch is gentle, like he's afraid he might break you, and it lingers for only a moment when he's done. You swallow around the lump of want in your throat, the want for it to have lasted longer, the want for him to touch you and have it mean something. It doesn't do any good to want. Because you can't have, and you've had to deal with becoming okay with that fact.

"Thanks, Rem."

He nods, lips curled in on themselves like he wants to say something, a look in his eyes you've never been able to read. He says nothing, and he retreats with the promise to wait on you with the others in the living room. Remus does that a lot - refrains from the things he wants to say, stops himself short. You wish he wouldn't.

You're always wishing, wishing, wishing.

He keeps true to his word. Remus is waiting in the living room with Sirius, James, and a rather flustered looking Frank when you descend the staircase. It's only now you realise how lovely Remus looks in his suit. Partly because of how Sirius is wearing his - like he had a fight with it and lost. Remus stands when you appear, as if on instinct, and takes a step forwards. You smile, eyes catching on Frank who's looking at the clock like it's stealing time from before his very eyes. You suppose, in a way, it is.

"You okay?" You feel the need to ask, hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Frank looks alarmed by your question, a grimace on his face, "She's going to be there, isn't she? She's not going to, like, do a runner? Have you spoke to her today?"

James huffs a laugh, pats Frank on the shoulder rather heavily. The whiskey in his crystal tumbler splashes over the side and onto the rug. "Last I heard, Mary and Marlene had her pinned down in the make up chair, she tried, but they wouldn't let her."

Sirius barks a laugh. Frank scowls. He knows you're kidding. Alice Fortescue has been absolutely smitten for Frank Longbottom since she was thirteen. There's absolutely nothing that could stop her from walking down that aisle, today. Frank knows that as well as you do.

"Not helping." James decides, passes Frank a cigarette.

He mumbles something about not wanting to smoke inside and makes for the door. Remus gives James and Remus a pointed look, "Better make sure he doesn't do a runner, yeah?"

They're quick out the door like they actually believe Frank would ever do something like that. The only place he'd ever run to is Alice. And she'd have his balls for seeing her in her wedding dress before the ceremony. Remus gives you a familiar smile, a knowing smile, a smile he saves for you and you only. It feels like he's in on something you aren't when he smiles like that. Heat crawls up your neck, flowers wrap their way around you rib cage.

"You scrub up well, you know." Is all you manage to say, rather breathless.

Remus rolls his eyes, "I try."

A minute of amused silence, Remus passes you the glass of wine in his hand. The glass is warm from being in his clutch, but you drink from it anyway.

"I thought after the catering disaster this wedding wasn't going to happen." Remus admits, looking out of the living room window at where Frank paces the length of the front path, working his way through his second cigarette. Alice will have your head for allowing such a thing.

You hum a disagreement, eyes roaming Remus' face, it's so soft, so beautifully shaped. You've no idea why he hates his scars so much. They only outline his best qualities. The one over the bridge of his perfectly sloped nose, the one under his beautiful amber eyes, the one along his sharp cheekbones, and your favourite one: the one across his cupids bow, defining his soft, pink lips. It's a shame, really, that Remus Lupin thinks so little of himself. You'd give him the world should he only ask.

"I think nothing can stop a love like that," You murmur, soft and quiet, voice thick with something, "Not even a shoddy caterer."

Remus' eyes leave the front garden, meet with yours in a way that always makes heat explode in your chest. He's too much to look at, sometimes. It physically hurts.

"You always have such a positive outlook on life."

You laugh, shoulders shrugging, "Suppose it's habit."

"From?"

"Keeping you miserable lot from giving up all together?" You offer, smiling over the rim of your wine glass.

Remus laughs, genuine and unashamed. "Tell you what, at our wedding, I promise to be the one keeping everything together, how about that?"

He seems to flinch after that, like he's physically pained by the words coming out of his mouth. You flinch, too. The flowers around your rib cage wilt and pull tighter all in one go, a frown pulling at your lips.

"I wasn't aware we were getting married."

Remus smiles like he's in pain, "Yeah, well, step one would actually be asking you on a date, but I'm a right twat who's mucked all that up."

There's something self deprecating about him. You don't like it. Remus Lupin deserves the world. You'll give him the world. You didn't think he wanted that from you, though. But you smile, gentle and sweet in a way you hope he'll like. It feels like something shifts. Maybe the stars begin to write a story about you both. Maybe the sun stops it's rotation just for a second to watch you both.

The wedding car pulls up outside and Remus, seemingly eager to back away from the situation he's created, slams his own drink down on the table and makes for the door.

"Remus," You call after him, he turns, "I'd marry you."

You offer him a lopsided smile. His eyes search your face for any sign of a joke. He finds none. You hope he understands what you mean.

"How about a date first?" He asks.

You release a breath, a laugh, a smile. It feels like you're floating.

"Sure, yeah. That first."

The front door swings open and Sirius barges his way past Remus, panicked and disheveled, "I've lost the fucking rings!"

Remus sighs, hand in his pocket, hands Sirius the red velvet box, "Here."

You're laughing all the way down the path, shoulder brushing Remus', the start of something new.

#fourmoonys asks #marauders #marauders fic #marauders oneshot #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #james potter #james potter imagine #sirius black #sirius black imagine #frank longbottom #alice longbottom #mary macdonald #marlene mckinnon

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dreamerinthemoonlight · 4 months

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Genshin Guys on Your Birthday (Zhongli, Kaeya, Neuvillette, Wriothesley)

Y'all are getting two posts today. This one now and one from my blog at it's usually scheduled time.

On another note, Happy Birthday to Me!

CW: None, fluff, slightly suggestive in Kaeya's

Zhongli x gn!reader, Kaeya x gn!reader, Neuvillette x gn!reader, Wriothesley x gn!reader

Zhongli

he goes all out on your birthday

Not in a tons of presents kind of way, but you know he spent quite a bit on your birthday present.

I mean, he's a stickler for quality in general, it's just worse on your birthday (don't worry, tartaglia heard it was your birthday and was happy to donate top the cause)

He makes you breakfast in bed (your favorites), schedules lunch at whatever restaurant you want, and cooks you your favorite meal himself for dinner

Depending on your personality he helps H Tao with the planned birthday party or helps you avoid it like the plague

After dinner the two of you curl up on the couch and cuddle until bed

Kaeya

Your birthday is a huge deal and nothing will ever convince him otherwise

For the most part, when he's around you he lets that charming face drop. Not today.

He goes all out. Makes sure you have a big birthday party.

He enlisted Klee's help, so there's a chance something got blown up in the process, cough cough the good hunter stove but the result was a very bright and lively venue

The picnic happens early. After all, there is a kid attending and he has plans for later

Said plans include a picnic (with your choice of drinks, alcoholic or otherwise) and fireworks

He basically begged Jean to let him order B-Day fireworks from Yoimiya, though it didn't actually take that much work. Any kind of collaboration with Inazuma is good in her eyes, and Jean is fond enough of you, it was no issue. (she's also very glad that Kaeya didn't enlist Klee in making the explosives. Yoimiya, she trusts. Klee, not so much.)

And of course, Kaeya does his very best to make sure your satisfied in other ways. If he has his way, you're not walking home. Not that he doesn't mind carrying you. After all, it would be his fault you're boneless and on cloud nine.

Neuvillette

Let's be honest, Sedene thought he was going to have a heart attack in the days weeks leading up to your birthday

Sure, he's dealt with Furina's birthday and his is a public holiday or sorts, but that's not the same as it being your birthday

This is the first time he's celebrated a birthday that isn't a holiday, so he's a bit at a loss as to how to celebrate it

After some research, he figures out that sweets is going to be part of it, but presents? Birthday party? What the heck?

After some thought he enlists both the help of the Melusines (who would be very upset if they didn't get to help) and several humans. Navia in particular was a huge help. (And Wriothesley for making sure to remind Neuvie that Melusines should not be in control of dinner. Neuvie is very smart, but he has a weak spot for the Melusines and they certainly volunteered for the job)

Overall it was the most...interesting birthday party you've ever had. A combination of Melusine and Human decorations, fireworks, and every friend you have. And, of course, the best, most expensive water Teyvat has to offer

Neuvillette plans this for earlier in the day --he decided that taking the day off would be appropriate Wriothesley and Sedene's idea as well so he has time afterward for a more private

The two of you leave the city for the afternoon and walk around the countryside or go swimming. Simply content to spend the time in each other's company. It 100% rains, but that's not unusual

That evening he takes you to an expensive restaurant and gives you the gift he spent far too long picking. It was worth it to see your face though, lighting up like a child. You don't care if your in public when you give him a long, deep kiss in thanks, with a secret vow to make sure his next birthday is even better than he made yours

Wriothesley

Birthdays with Wrio are pretty chill affairs

He makes sure you have time to open the gifts sent from the over world, from the inmates, and from Sigewinne, but after that, no one should expect to see you for the rest of the day and most of the night

Whether it's running around the wilderness, going to the Opera (if the show of the day isn't a trial), or just walking around the city

He's also pretty unsubtle about trying to buy you a bunch of pretty stuff. You're his s/o, he thinks you deserve the world, and at least on your birthday you're willing to let him

But mostly, his gift to you is time and attention. On your birthday it's all about you

If you decide half way through that you want to go home and spend the day just hanging out there too, that's fine by him

And when you go back, only to stumble into the surprise party the inmates and Sigewinne spent the say putting together, well you don't believe it one bit when Wrio said he had nothing to do with it

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orionsangel86 · 11 months

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Hob Gadling - A Queer Romantic?

I have been listening to The World's End chapters of The Sandman on Audible lately and just finished Hob's Leviathan. I didn't pay this story much attention when I first read the comic, as I tended to read through the stories quickly and put more focus into the stories where Dream had a larger role. But one of the reasons I like listening to the Audible book is because it allows me to absorb each story more thoroughly and take my time thinking about each one and the (usually multiple) meanings behind them.

Hob Gadling is a character that fandom has fallen in love with. I think this is clear to anyone that takes even a partial glance at Sandman fandom. This isn't a criticism - Ferdie's performance as Hob in the Netflix show has done wonders for Hob's character. He has made his version of Hob very easy to fall in love with!

But the truth is that in The Sandman comics, Hob is a minor character who we only get to know very little about. The story Hob's Leviathan appears in The Worlds End Sandman book. We only meet him twice before this, once in The Doll's House, where we are introduced to him in Men of Good Fortune, and again in Season of Mists when Dream comes to let him know that he may miss their next meeting. In both these issues, Hob is introduced via the narrator, and therefore I like to think that we are given a fairly honest representation of the kind of person he is. We watch him grow and learn throughout the centuries in MoGF, but one of the major takeaways from this I believe is that he tends to always be on the wrong side of history. He makes bad choices and can be a bit narrow minded. He is rude and selfish and also rather self-absorbed. I actually think that the performance of the voice actor who plays Hob in the Audible book emphasises these character flaws making him even more unlikeable in many ways, though I am aware that this could just be my own experience and opinion.

But Hob's Leviathan takes a different view of Hob. Literally. The narrator of this story is a young boy of 16 called Jim. Jim met Hob on a ship travelling from Bombay to Liverpool in 1914. Jim was working on the ship as a cabin boy and Hob had bought his passage back to England - though it is revealled at the end of the story that Hob actually owned the ship they were travelling on. It is clear that at this point in time, Hob is extremely wealthy.

Jim attends to Hob throughout the journey, and grows very fond of him. In Jim's tale, Hob is a good man, who is kind and thoughtful and cares about others. He saves the life of a stowaway (who turns out to be another immortal). He is shown to be patient, and funny, and very intelligent. Jim waxes poetic about how smart Hob is, and how much he impressed him. It is particularly clear in the Audible book that Jim is taken with Hob, to the point that it could arguably be a crush.

It is fascinating how much more likeable Hob is when narrated from the viewpoint of someone with a crush on him, whether this story is exaggerated through rose tinted glasses is of course something to consider. All the tales in World's End are just that, tales. There is a constant undercurrent of exaggeration and make believe to them where even the other patrons of the inn question elements to each of the stories. We are not supposed to take these stories as absolute fact, rather they are supposed to reveal to us more about the narrators as well as their own experiences existing in this magical and strange world.

When it is revealled that Jim is actually a girl called Peggy in disguise so they can get work on the ships, the quite obvious crush makes more sense to a heteronormative audience, but what I particularly like about this story is its queer potential. See in the comic, it isn't really clarified if Jim goes by Jim because they feel more themselves as a boy, rather than a girl, or if they are disguising themself as a boy just to get work as a means to an end. I would argue that the latter is the more obvious interpretation. Jim tells the other World's End patrons that they are getting too old to keep up the disguise and will eventually have to stop working in shipping, and that when that happens, they will take on a new name, a new identity and do something else, but that for now, the patrons can keep calling them Jim.

*for a lack of clarity around the point in the comic, I am going to use gender neutral pronouns for Jim going forward*

Now from Hob's POV, he figured out that Jim was a girl, and they talk about it briefly along with the sea serpent they saw. I think that at this point, Hob is impressively progressive compared to the previous times we have met him. Now whether or not this is biased storytelling from someone who has a crush on him remains to be seen, but if we take Jim's word as truth, not only is 1914 Hob a fair and honest man who is willing to pay the way of a stowaway and fully respect the secrets of a young girl disguised as a boy so they can work on ships, but he's also totally comfortable flirting with them.

I like that he calls Jim the "handsome cabin boy". I like that this version of Hob, whether real or an exaggeration skewed by Jim's feelings for him, respects Jim's identity. Jim may be a girl in disguise, but Hob doesnt call her pretty, he calls him handsome.

It's all just a bit subtly queer and I like that for Hob (But then I would do, I'm a Dreamling shipper HA)

When Jim finishes their story, they state that they didn't see Hob again after that, but the comics later do give us a possible outcome to Jim's story...

We next see Hob in The Kindly Ones where he is mourning the death of his girlfriend Audrey. He briefly reveals that Audrey was the first person he had loved since Peggy, who was his lover until her death during the Blitz. Whilst it isn't made clear that Hob's lover Peggy is the same Jim that we meet in World's End, it is a bit too much of a coincidence. The timing adds up. If Jim was 16 in 1914, they'd be in their early 40s during the Blitz. Hob remains forever in his early 30s so I'd say its a safe bet that Jim eventually found Hob again and they were together. Hob loved them enough that he wasn't with anyone again until Audrey in the 80s. That's 50 years worth of mourning. A long time not to be with anyone, even for an immortal.

It's funny because we know so little about Hob, but one thing that I have seen commented on here a lot is that comic Hob is deemed to be as Straight as an arrow. Now I admit that the voice actor in the Audible book plays him very straight, but that is still only one interpretation.

All this is to say that I am fascinated with how the Netflix show will adapt this, since Hob in the show already comes across much kinder and more selfless than his comic counterpart. He already has an entire fandom viewing him as queer, and the comics certainly don't outright shut down such interpretations. There are moments in the comics that you have to wonder on. He does call Jim handsome rather than pretty, and when he talks to Audrey's grave he mentions his wives and loves as separate groups. He talks about finding it easy to get sex if you want it, and he talks about it in generally gender neutral terms. In Sunday Mourning Gwen reveals that she thought he was gay when she first met him, though her reasonings were that he knew so many dead people (a dark reminder that these comics were published at the height of the Aids epidemic). He reacts very badly to the news of Morpheus' death. He states on several occassions just how much he liked Morpheus, and he is one of the few people to wake up from the Wake with tears running down his cheeks. I would arguably state that its between Hob and Matthew as to who had the worst reaction to Morpheus' death, showing just how much both Hob and Matthew cared about him, and placing Hob on par with Matthew in the comics is a big deal. He seriously considers accepting Death's gift when she offers it, simply because Morpheus is dead. He doesn't, because at the end of the day, its just not in his nature to do so, and given he then dreams of Morpheus, I like to think that it was a test, that he passed.

When it comes to how the show will adapt all this, I genuinely think it will take a new approach with Jim/Peggy. I think they will be either a trans man, or at least non binary. But I think having Jim be a trans man is the better option. In the comics, Jim's tale is only very subtly queer, Jim clearly likes being Jim, but it seems like its a means to an end, a convenience in order to get work on the ships, rather than being something that is core to Jim's feelings on their gender. Besides, if we assume that Jim is indeed the Peggy Hob talks about in The Kindly Ones, then we know that Jim goes back to being Peggy when they get older and apparently continues living as a woman whilst they are with Hob, otherwise I doubt Hob would have referred to one of his greatest loves by a name they themselves rejected and only used she/her pronouns when talking about them. Nevertheless there is no reason for the show to take this approach, and if they DO decide that Jim should be a trans man, then their relationship with Hob is canonically a queer one. Trans men are men and if one of Hob's greatest loves is a trans man, then Hob is a queer man himself. I genuinely believe the show will take this route and I can't wait to see it.

Going back to my point about narrators bias, if MoGF, SoM, tKO, and TW are all narrated by a neutral third party, then this must be the true Hob. A not overly likeable rather selfish man. He has his good points, and he has certainly grown and changed over the centuries, and carries a lot of guilt for his past mistakes, but he is still quite self absorbed. Jim paints a picture of a rose tinted Hob that is far more the dreamy romantic older gentleman that took a young person under his wing. Which is fair enough.

The show is of course its own adaptation, with changes from the comics as it sees fit, but I do feel it's my duty to remind you that the show also has a narrator guiding the audience through its many stories. Dream of the Endless, Lord Morpheus, King of Nightmares and Prince of Stories himself. Take from that whatever you will.

;-)

#why yes i did just imply that show!hob comes across so likeable because we are seeing him from Dream's POV #what of it?#lmao #sandman meta #the sandman #sandman analysis #hob gadling #dreamling #dream of the endless #the worlds end #sandman comic spoilers #major sandman comic spoilers #the sandman comics

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thewaspsnestinyourattic · 6 months

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sometimes I like to think about the differences between the avatars that chose their fears willingly and the ones who were forced into it. an interesting question to ask yourself is 'is there anything that could make me choose to be an avatar?'

for most people the answer is probably yes. everyone's scared of something enough to do practically anything to escape it. and sometimes fears can seem real damn alluring.

I make a lot of jokes about how I'd become an avatar of the corruption, the buried, the spiral etc., and that is partly because goddamn that worm lady (/pos) but it's also because if faced with that option I can't one hundred percent guarantee I'd say no.

I think the only ones that couldn't make me hesitate before saying no are the vast and the lonely. this is probably because I have issues with self-isolation, and the idea of a frigid, empty void calls to my nihilistic side a little too much for comfort.

anything else, even the 'grosser' ones have their unique appeal. there's a sense of belonging there that nobody can ever take away from you. you don't have to be scared of anything anymore. (unless you meet gertrude, in that case rip.)

I haven't really talked to anyone else about it irl (there are no tma fans around me, it's very sad) but I do notice in the fandom that most people have a specific fear that they're fond of. some of them are less common than others (it's not often you see someone who goes all in for the flesh), but they're all there.

I mean, you can probably guess that mine's the corruption, for the same reason the lonely isn't my favorite. (as a concept and narratively it's cool as hell, but speaking in terms of real life, no thank you.) a few of my other favorites are the spiral and the stranger but that's mostly because the vibes are immaculate and I'm a sucker for some classic creepy shit.

I'd be really curious to know what people's reasons are for preferring their respective fears.

#the magnus archives #tma #jane prentiss #the flesh tma #the corruption tma #the vast tma #the spiral tma #the buried tma #the lonely tma #the stranger tma #tma fandom

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ieatangstforbreakfast · 5 months

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Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ WHY IS THE HALLOWEEN CHAPTER PUBLISHED ON DECEMBER IDK IM SLOW, also politics yay ig— MENTIONS OF MY COUNTRY! 🇵🇭💥🇵🇭💥💪💪 Also uh VERY long chapter

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @adorefavv @l0starl @depresssedcowboy

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟎: 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐭

Summary ೃ⁀➷ You and Montrell seem to share a few qualities. In the midst of talks of politics with Miles, you find yourself parted from the reality you were raised in, instead finding a new world in Spirit Halloween.

This chapter is not sponsored.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

".. You should've definitely worn a coat over that."

You fiddled with your sleeve, staring comfortably past the window and out into the shining streets of Brooklyn. The comment was unnecessary , but it didn't entirely fly past your ears— in fact you swallowed it like a bad egg, making your stomach churn. As you turned your head away from the window, you're brought back to acknowledge your brother, Montrell, sitting beside you with his hand over the wheel.

"I like it as it is." You answered. "It's soft, fluffy, and big. Fragrant too." Because it belongs to Miles.

"It's the first time I've seen you wear something so.." His words trace away, but even without finishing the sentence, you knew what he meant. Unsophisticated— a little too boyish in comparison to your usual, refined clothes. The classic sort of unrefined your dearest mother taught you not to embody.

"What? It's comfortable." Was your attempt of a justification. Montrell shrugs, and you catch a twitch in his eye.

Your family had similar, refined tastes. Montrell, like you, was taught to imbue stylishness in every aspect of his life. He was often Armani-clad. Brunello Cucinelli, Hermes— and every other European household name you could recall. But in special events, he usually sported suits specially tailored to his tastes. His palette was consistently ashen, monochrome, with hints of cherry red. Like his car, which had been only recently cleaned after the staff was updated with his upcoming arrival, a slick, grey Aston Martin. It was likely the peak symbolism of his tastes.

You were never really fond of vehicles, particularly their strong, Italian leather scents (Or stench, as you called it). It was because of your sensitive nose that you often requested the seats to be replaced with anything but leather. Scentless polyester was your more preferred option. Leather alone was enough to urge your stomach to clear out your last meal, by ascending to your esophagus.

"I'm not insulting your tastes. I'm glad you're exploring new aesthetics." He manages to lure out his teeth, a compliment— a not-so-good one at that. "What is this?.. Like, street style? Grunge?.. What's that other one— e-girl, I believe? Or was it Emo?"

"You sound not twenty-five years old."

"Don't be mean. The idea of it is new to me, okay?" He clears. "I haven't seen you in three years. The last time I saw you, mom was the one in charge of your wardrobe. I only ever saw your pictures and you seemed more high-end. Saint Laurent, Dior, Dolce Gabbana."

"Those are my brands, I'm just taking a break. I'm not a walking advertisement. I don't want to get robbed in the middle of Brooklyn either."

With a three-second pause, Montrell looks at you and queried.

"Does that jacket belong to a boy?"

You sit right up, ready to defend yourself when Antonne adds. "You would have to introduce him to me immediately— I won't stand aside while some boy prances around your presence. You're sixteen, and that's a prey-able age for stupid and good-for-nothing men… Unless,” He pauses. “You’re gay.”

"What— What are you talking about!?” You feigned ignorance. “I'm not g— this is— it doesn't belong to a.. Well, it does belong to a boy, but it's my friend's jacket okay?"

Oh, the way Miles would glare at you had he been there.

"Don't try to outsmart me." He shot back. "You’ve got little to no friends.”

You parted your lips. “You’re being mean.”

“I’m only stating the truth.” He sighs. “You’re too condescending, and you hate people.”

“And your sources are what? A small interaction I had when I was twelve?”

Montrell grows uneasy a bit, tapping his nails over the thinly veiled compartment. ".. So who is he?" He starts. "From which family? Who are his parents? And how did the both of you meet?"

"That's none of your business, Mon." You sighed, running a hand across your face. "I'm not seeing him, I'm simply hanging out with another friend. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Well, it surely wouldn't hurt for me to meet this friend of yours, then? If he's not a boyfriend."

Your mouth hung open, a steady sigh escaping your lips while you sink a little deeper into your seat. As a hand runs across your cheek, you looked at Montrell as he eases the car down to a red light.

"He doesn't know that I'm a Chávez."

ＢＥＥＰ

Suddenly, you're jolted to a sudden halt— nearly flying out of your seat upon Montrell's way of hitting the brakes. You grabbed onto the board before you with widened eyes and a curse in your mouth.

He remains calm, but slightly irked.

At that moment, he pulls a finger to his lips as if to hush you. He signals with another finger as it leads up to boost the music from the radio. The song blasts, and swiftly, he takes his jug hidden by the side of his seat, unscrewing the top before pouring some of the water onto his palm, flicking at the air conditioner.

Oh, he was checking if the car was bugged.

You hold out your hand, gesturing him to give you some of the water. Together, the both of you took care of the recording devices, from the front of the wheel to the back of the car. Upon gathering all of them, you stuffed it all inside the water bottle, permanently eradicating its usage.

Finally, Montrell places his hands on the wheel and speaks.

“I want you to be honest with me, [Y/n], and cut out any of the bullshittery.”

You feared that at that moment, you and Montrell weren’t brother and sister, but rivals in a battle for power.

ＳＨＯＵＬＤＷＥＥＡＴＹＯＵＲＢＲＯＴＨＥＲ？

Your finger twitches.

Wait.

“Does he make you happy?”

The question comes off a little too similar to tasteless poison. It’s a gamble in itself— and it leaves you sitting upright and crossing your legs.

“He makes me feel alive,” Was your starter. “That’s a power no other boy could do, and it’s a rarity, since I’ve always lived for other people, but he makes me feel like I’m living for myself.”

A short hum exits his lips. “And your happiness? Does he make you happy?”

You harshly swallowed. “What difference would it make if I tell you that he does make me happy?”

Montrell’s gaze narrows a bit, the heel of his boots pressing against the gas as the green light shone. “… I ought to applaud you for your sneakiness if by now, dad still doesn’t know anything about his existence.. Unless,” Gulp. “He ordered you to spy on him.”

“And for what reason?”

“It could be anything,” His grip on the wheel tightens like the coil of a noose. “Hostage, information, any of the latter. I’m not sure why father would send you off to spy on a fifteen-year-old boy, but I’m sure the truth’s far deeper than petty business rival bullshit.”

Your mind blanks.

“It’s nothing like that. I just.. Like him, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why would I lie to you about how much he means to me?”

“Because we’re not just siblings, [Y/n],” He whispered. “If anything, we’re not a normal family, but, I’m here for you because I think you’re a good kid, even if everyone else says you’re not.”

“Cease the speech, Mon. I’m not a good person. Stop romanticizing me.”

“But why?” He adds. “Is it because you managed the media and the hotel?”

And hearing those words, you come to face the fact that there was a reason Montrell was your father’s favorite. The effortless way he’s able to read every situation, the effortless way he managed to read through your emotions. It was a talent you could only wish for.

“It was so obvious, you know.” He chuckled. “I knew— I already knew before I came home.”

“Why?”

“Because Antonne handles things messily. He makes decisions without thinking about the consequences, and he despises planning things on the long run. Dad wouldn’t trust anyone outside the family after what happened with Mom, nor would he allow just anyone to handle such shaky affairs. It’s not like it’s beyond father’s morality to hire his own children and calling it practice.”

“What evidence do you have?”

Montrell took one look at you. “The Warehouse. It’s said that it was recently burnt, and that Antonne had to fight the Prowler, but Antonne wouldn’t have had the time to take care of all that because he was investigating you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You spat.

“Also, no one but family takes care of the Warehouses.”

“No— I know that, fuck that. You were going to find out one way or another, but what the fuck was Antonne investigating me for?”

Your brother simply shrugs, his shoulders dropping comically.

“It was about that boy.”

“What!?” Your voice breaks a little. “Jesus fuck, what is wrong with him!?”

“Evidently, he’s worried about you.”

You snorted. “Worried!? Worried my ass!” The vulgar way you spoke caught Montrell so off-guard that he had to look at you twice to check if you were still the same person. “I’d rather believe the world’s ending. Antonne and I stopped being siblings the moment he dropped responsibility for all those who were killed, forcing me to step up and do damage control because Dad stopped trusting everyone else.”

“Well, that’s understandable.”

“Plus, there’s nothing to be worried about. The boy I’m meeting he’s.. He’s just.. I like him. That’s it. I know it’s hard to believe since most of the time I’m a conniving bitch, but I genuinely, wholeheartedly like him. Like how a normal teenage girl ought to like a boy.”

Montrell hums. “… Alright, I’ll believe you. It’s not too far off from unusual, when I’m also facing a similar issue.”

You blinked. “What do you mean by that?”

“… You see, [Y/n], I’ve got also got a girl for myself.” He announced so suddenly. “Met her at Oxford. Like your boy, she bore no idea of who I was.. Who I am, and understandably, and I know you know about this too— but it’s a refreshing feeling to not be recognized as the potential inheritor of a business empire.”

You part your lips, processing the information with confusion all over your expression. “But— there were no reports of you being in a relationship.”

“Of course there weren’t,” He laughs. “I had her carefully hidden from everyone’s sights.”

And that could mean two things. You didn’t want to think of the latter.

“Maybe it’s genetic,” Montrell added, turning the wheel. “Father, mother, me, Antonne, you. Making stupid decisions for stupid ideals— rather, stupid romance. It’s frightening to think how Malachi’s going to inherit our tendencies.”

“I’m not,” Your heart raged within the cage of your ribs. “I’m not like that to him. I can never allow myself to trap him.”

“You can either be one of them.” Montrell sighed. “Mom or dad, I mean.”

The good ol’ bird or the cage.

“But I won’t be able to stand by and watch when that does happen,” He straightens his lips. “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

You can hear the voice whisper back in your mind.

“Which is why I’ve got to meet.. [Y/n]?”

Your hands slithered up against your ears in an attempt to block out the voice.

“[Y/n], are you okay?”

You gasped for air, a familiar voice taunting you like the one from your dreams. Except, this one didn’t speak like the voice of the symbiote, rather, it endowed this sweet allure as though it could sing you a lullaby to sleep.

Before the symbiote, there was someone else who plagued your thoughts and mind and actions.

Before the symbiote, there was your mother.

“Stop the car.” You croaked, palms still over your ears. Montrell speaks, but his words were blurred out into the void of nothingness. The more he speaks, the more your mind shreds itself into pieces. After a long second of thinking, Montrell finally pulls up by the sidewalk, taking his hands off the wheel and pulling one in front of you. He waves it hesitantly, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Breathe, [Y/n], breathe.”

“I-I,” You lengthily stammered. “Mon, I’m sorry, but can I go?” As he’s about to answer, you add. “I’ll introduce you another day, I promise, I just, I need to be alone right now.”

“But isn’t it unsafe? We’re in the slums, you’ll never know how—“

“Mon, I can fight.” You ended the conversation with that alone. Hesitantly, he nods and unlocks the door. You reach for the handle, moving along with the click as you turned to leave.

“Can you at least message me when I can pick you up?”

You looked over to Montrell.

“… Okay.”

ＳＬＡＭ.

“Miles!”

And he could already hear you from a block away, jogging with steady and loud steps.

Without even looking up from his phone, he unconsciously opened his arms to welcome you with an embrace— closing in immediately upon your arrival. You felt like you were going to stain his jacket with your glossed lips, but you barely managed to care anymore at this point, as this hug was beyond a need. You clung onto his neck, burying your aching head into the nape of his collar, taking in this familiar scent of spice and wood. A subtle homage, or a reminder of your older brother, Montrell.

What was it about men and their perfume?

It felt like you hadn’t seen Miles in such a long, long time. It was like you were a child who’d parted from their favorite blanket for a little too long that it made you uneasy. You liked the world and space you had between his arms— it was your warmth, your only true home, and it was yours.

All yours.

“What’s wrong?” He cooed, simpering around with you in his arms.

“I just want to stay like this for a moment.” You whispered. “I need to steal the warmth off of you.”

“Well, nena, why are you only wearing my hoodie? It’s so cold out.”

“It’s not that.”

Miles’ ears metaphorically perked up upon hearing you sniffle.

“Who the fuck hurt you? I’ll kill ‘em.”

Your lips curved into a smile.

Oh, Miles, you can’t possibly kill off a multi-million dollar industry.

“Can you kill a car, then? My brother drove me here and his car’s smell made me age twenty years,” You grumbled. “I’m boutta die at thirty-seven, I swear.”

“Your brother?” He lightly jolts away, eyes journeying from road to road in search of him. “God, where is he? Is he here?”

And at that moment, Miles subsequently fixes his posture, his words suddenly endowing some strange sort of politeness. You nudge at his shoulder, “I told him to drop me off somewhere else. I didn’t want him to meet you yet.”

“Awe,” He pouted. “Well, that’s aight. I’m gonna dress up real nice when I meet your family.”

“Uhuh,” You laughed. “And what are you going to be wearing?”

“I’m gonna borrow my unc’s suit, and I’ll talk business with yo father.”

“Only business you’ll be discussing with my father is your damn funeral, Miles. My papa don’t want me out here dating, that’s why he put me in private school.”

“With a face like yours?” He smugly grinned. “Your daddy’s kinda underestimating the power of your pretty face.”

“Oh, so you like me ‘cause I’m pretty?”

“Pretty fucking unbearable, that’s what you is.” The boy joked. “M’just kidding. I like you because you’re pretty much everything to me.”

Despite the fluttering of your stomach, you persevered with your little game. “Doesn’t answer anything— what do you like about me? Did you like my face or my personality?”

“I liked you ‘cause of your pretty face, and stayed for your amazing personality.” He answered as though he’d been preparing for the question his whole life.

“Amazing personality?”

“Extravaganza bonanza personality.”

“I’m not a banana split sundae, Miles.”

“Might as well should be with yo damn split personality.”

Your hands dangle away, Miles unconsciously attempts to reach for it but instead accepts defeat when you held his hand. “So where are we going for halloween spirit, exactly?”

“Halloween spirit?” He queried.

“Yeah, didn’t ya mention something about being in halloween spirit?”

Miles paused, holding back a loud laugh in the middle of the street. “My girl, I said I was in Spirit Halloween.”

“What the fuck is a Spirit Halloween?”

“Holy shit,” He verbalized. “You’re in for a scare, nena.”

And he meant those words a little too literally.

Growing up, it wasn’t within your household to make halloween one of your yearly traditions. Your father deemed it unnecessary, while your mother was anything but fun (Same difference, really). Your brothers have celebrated halloween, one way or another, but since you were the child closest to your mother, you were anything but free of her beliefs.

So being greeted with a large, bloodied skeleton first-thing upon entering the building was a first for you.

“WHAT THE HELL IS EVEN THAT!?”

Miles simply explodes into laughter, holding his phone up just to record your reaction. You fall right back, hand still holding onto his. “Come on, nena, you can do it, let’s get past the entrance.”

“Miles, what in THE FUCK is that!?”

“Don’t be mean to your brother, ma.” He attempts to drag you inside as you sat down by the floor with petrification scribbled all over your face. “[Y/n], come on, introduce me to the rest of your family.”

“FUCK YOU!” You whisper-yelled.

“It’s not even moving yet, come on, [Y/n].”

“THAT’S SUPPOSED TO MOVE!?”

After managing to drag you past the animatronics (Which Miles described was a work out in itself), the both of you marveled at the isle where all the costumes were, skimming through the racks and looking at each and every picture. “Oh, Miles— look at this,” You pluck one out, the hanger dangling from your fingers. “It’s Emily from the corpse bride! Shit, I haven’t seen the movie since I was eight.”

“Look at this one, Ma, this shit’s so you.”

He pulls out an Elsa costume.

“Even got the white ass wig and everythin’.” He giggles as you playfully smacked his arm. “Let it go. Let it go.”

“Shut up.”

“Can’t hold this shit anymore!~”

“MILES.”

“LET IT GO!”

You tried to hush out his horrible singing, but the way he giggled was so infectious that you couldn’t help but giggle yourself. When bystanders started walking past the both of you with weird ogles in their gazes, you couldn’t help but put your hand over your mouth to muffle your laughing.

“Puñeta,” Miles added, pulling out a fucking teenage mutant ninja turtles costume. “You’ve got to fucking try this, ma.”

“Miles—“ You couldn’t even continue a sentence without wheezing.

You did eventually find a costume— unlike the original plan, the both of you couldn’t find a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague, but Miles did manage to find a dark priestess costume along with a plague doctor costume.

“We’re like business partners. The patients go to me, and when they die, you send them off.” Was what he said.

“Wouldn’t that make you a really horrible doctor?”

“Doctor’s still a doctor, ma. I mean, it’s the police’s job to protect all of us but if that’s really the case, they’re doing a pretty fucking horrible job at it, but hey, we still call them the police.”

You looked at the mirror, watching the confusion materialize over your face as you heard Miles’ rant behind the curtain. As you clumsily tried on your costume inside the changing room, you couldn’t help but ask. “What makes you say that? That they’re doing a horrible job at protecting y’all?”

As you zipped up the bolero, you hear Miles’ curtain open.

“Well, Ma, brutality’s been upper than hell compared to the last few decades, so’s poverty. For the last four years, the economy’s been going downhill, which made us have a recession. ‘Cause of that, a lot of the cops had to kiss up some of the wealthy folks’ asses to keep their jobs.”

“So that makes them corrupt?”

“That makes them desperate,” He alluded. “No one wants to die of starvation, and they all have families to feed. It’s divide and conquer, really.”

“Divide and conquer?— oops,” You pick up the fallen headdress from the floor. “Expand on that.”

Miles hums a bit. “Imagine the crab mentality. I’ve read about it before for a philosophy research, and it’s a term used in the Philippines. Put a fuck ton of crabs in a bucket. You’re gonna see the crabs drag each other down in order to pull themselves up, but in the end, none of them ain’t gonna reach the top.

Because the true problem was never the crabs, it was the person who put those crabs inside the bucket in the first place. Same goes for us, the poor. We all have to fend for ourselves so we put others down— because if we’re too busy surviving, we don’t have to pay no attention to the rich who put us all inside the damn bucket in the first place.”

The way he described it was so familiar.

It was like he was describing you with your siblings.

ＨＥ’ＳＳＭＡＲＴ. ＩＬＩＫＥＨＩＭ.

Hearing the symbiote’s approval echo in your mind, you couldn’t help but smirk.

He’s not just smart. He’s a genius.

ＤＯＮ’Ｔ　ＯＶＥＲＰＲＡＩＳＥ　ＨＩＭ,

ＳＷＥＥＴＨＥＡＲＴ

Don’t call me that, ever.

His experiences and your experiences were similar despite being so contradictory, and it didn’t make sense. You were rich, so extraordinarily wealthy that the recession was never a part of your problem, hell, the decline of the economy was never your problem— and Miles was struggling along with his family to keep themselves afloat.

And you could never put yourself in his shoes, as you knew nothing of the loss he felt.

But the both of you were kids in line to shape the future, and if the generational trauma ever continued, you’d only end up the oppressor, but you knew, Miles was going to tear himself apart from the title of ‘victim’, and he was going to stand up against you— maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow,

But soon, as villain versus hero.

You pushed the curtain away, unveiling the costume to Miles.

But rather than seeing him, he was nowhere to be found.

You lifted the veil, stepping out of the dressing room to take a peek at him, but you couldn’t find any trace of his broad-shouldered figure anywhere. You softly called out for his name, head spinning from constantly turning. Your feet took you forward. You try ignore the giggly and bloodily-clad animatronics whose haunting stares scared you far worse than any unwanted confrontation with any of your family members.

And there he was, talking to a girl.

That sort of closeness— the way they spoke. Laughing, catching up, or something like that. Acquaintances? Friends, maybe?

Something ugly pricked at your skin from within.

ＨＵＮＧＲＹ.

Montrell’s words began to spiral inside your mind. ‘Father, mother, me, Antonne, you. Making stupid decisions for stupid ideals— rather, stupid romance.’

ＨＵＮＧＲＹ.

The feeling seared your veins, making you dig your nails into the bed of your palm. Your knuckles quivered from the intensity, like a sort of anger you felt when you saw any of your elder brothers being praised for the bare minimum, except.. This one felt different.

ＨＵＮＧＲＹ.

You watched the way her braids fell, wondering if you could pull it off with such grace. High society’s always been too picky, which forced you to drown out most of your interests, but now you couldn’t help but feel a little envious. You wanted to wear the clothes you wanted to wear, try out the makeup you wanted to try.

It felt like your mother’s shadow was being cast on you, making you embody the very phase you feared, your mother’s daughter—

and like your mother, you were quick to get jealous.

And it devoured you, whole.

You faltered, taking a step back before fully pivoting your heel and running off back to the dressing room. You shut the curtain behind you, only now finding the symbiote staring right at you through the mirror— its grotesque body mirroring your move.

“For a girl who knows how to handle most of her emotions, you can’t seem to handle jealousy well.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m just tired.”

“And I’m Sofia Vergara.“

“How the fuck do you know who Sofia Vergara is?”

“Memories, my dear.”

You felt a surge of panic take course of you.

“This is unhealthy. I can’t be like this, I don’t even know who she is.” You exasperatedly murmured. “I need to calm down— Miles and I aren’t even official yet.”

“Exactly, so be the lady that you are and introduce yourself, damn it. You have no friends.”

“I have friends.” You seethed. “I’m popular as hell in Acadia.”

“If I had a dollar for every friend you have, I’d be the one giving you a poverty rant.”

“[Y/n]?” Miles pulled you out of your thoughts yet again.

“Y-Yeah?” You called out, whipping your head back. “You done?” He asks, shuffling a bit. You hesitantly open the curtain to reveal yourself, your sights eventually welcoming the image of Miles dressed in all black— with a long, beak-like mask over his head. As you were too busy trying to find his little acquaintance, Miles gawks at you from behind his heavy façade.

The faux black silk draped over your curves seamlessly, the crimson of the bolero gleaming beneath the light as it contrasted against the dress. You lifted the veil past the dark crown like a bride, lashes fanning up to meet him by his gaze.

“Oh, wow.” He sighed. “Wow, you— the woman that you are.”

There was something about the way he looked at you.

It was like you were all that consumed his mind and being. Nonetheless, it was the truth.

But even now, as Miles held out his hand for you to hold, you couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’ll look at you like this until it manifests from love into something else.

“It’s a halloween costume, Miles, not a wedding dress. I can’t possibly be lookin’ all that great.” You took his hand, drawing closer to the mask. “God, you look like a big bird.”

Lost in the way you looked, Miles’ hands unconsciously trailed around your waist, looking down on you with a dumb stare that you couldn’t fathom. Suddenly, the both of you were disrupted by an abrupt cough. You both turn your heads, finding the same girl you’d seen him talking to just a few minutes ago.

“Hey,” She beamed, waving her hand at you. “Hope I ain’t disturbing anything?”

“You definitely were.” Miles’ gaze narrowed. The girl laughed, her white grin wide like a crescent moon. You couldn’t help but think, she’s got such a pretty smile.

“Mind introducing me, Miles?”

With a hand still on your waist, Miles gestures towards you. “This is my lady,”

“[Y/n],” You held out your hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Both Miles and the girl stared at your open palm.

“Wow, ain’t she prim and proper? Like a princess.” She teased, accepting your hand. “I’m Amadi, nice to meet you too.”

Her palm was warm and smooth, decorated by the lacey sleeve of her periwinkle sweater. She stood in heeled boots, a couple inches taller than you— an inch or two off of Miles’ height. As she shook your hand, the girl couldn’t help but helplessly marvel at you as though you were a statue carved from marble.

“God, how in the hell did you land on Miles? You’re just,” Amadi’s hands airily traced your figure. “You’re just wow. I-Is Miles keeping you hostage or sum? You don’t look nuthin like human. You look outta this world.”

“Thank,” You stifled a laugh. “Thank you?”

“I can hear you, Madi.” Miles churned.

“M’just stating truths ‘cause—“ She clicks her long, acrylic nails. “Why she be lookin’ outta this world while you’s lookin like you snuck onto earth?”

You placed a hand over your mouth, trying your hardest, you very hardest, not to laugh. Miles pulled you back away from her with a disintegrating glare.

“Tu puta madre,” He spat. “.. Go back to Monique.”

“Monique?”

“Mi novia— love of my life, we’re off halloween shopping too. Gotta big date tomorrow, we gon be watching horror movies n shi.” Amadi added, decisively looking around. “Speaking of which, Ionno where she went.”

“She might be with Voshon.” Miles piqued.

“Voshon?” Your head started to spin with the amount of new names you were processing. “That’s a.. Interesting name.”

“Mama was gonna name him Joshua, but my dad wanted to combine or grandparents’ names together, so— Vaughn and Shontelle.. Voila, Voshon.”

“Oh, he’s your brother?” You queried. Amadi hums. “Unfortunately. I mean, I’d always preferred being an only child but we all don’t get what we want most of the time.“

“Oh, I definitely get that.”

“No way, you got brothers too?”

“Yeah, I’m the only girl.”

“Can’t imagine the mess in your house, damn.. Hey!”

Amadi soon joins a pair, one with a much brighter and pinker style and the other satisfied with a mere hoodie for marking a fashion statement. You fiddled with the skirt of your dress, evidently nervous as a million thoughts flooded your mind. You weren’t the friendliest person out there, nor were you the most likable out of all your siblings.

It was never easy for you to make friends. Too many found you overbearing, the rest condescending. Your position was overwhelming enough for any other person your age, and those who knew about you were ambitious to make connections and forge deals.

What if they won’t like me?

What if I mess up?

What if I come off as too condescending?

But Miles took your hand, grabbing your attention from the spur of your overthinking. He took off his mask, easing you with the familiarity. One look at him and home found its way back to you.

“You wanna meet ‘em, ma?” He asks.

With an anxious smile, you nodded.

“Of course.”

And like a whirlwind into the night, you were off.

For the first time, you part yourself entirely from the world you knew and entered Miles’ world.

“Oh, hello!” Bubbly and sweet, Monique greeted you with such warmth that it melted away all your previous worries. “Oh my god— don’t tell me,” She glances over to Amadi for confirmation. “Are you the [Y/n] Miles always talks about!?“

“Nica— please—“

“You ARE!”

She spoke of you as though you’d been a legend told to the latter, like a tooth fairy. “It’s so nice to finally meet you! We’ve been dying to meet you and– wow, you’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” Your cheeks were bound to be flushed. “I think you’re very pretty too. I-I really like your hair and your makeup, it’s super well done.”

“Awe, thank you so much!” She placed a hand over your heart, wholeheartedly touched by your compliment. Monique looks at Miles with a pout.

“… Miles, can you fight?”

“Fuck you mean ‘Can you fight?’, I will square you the fuck up r’now.”

His friends were sweet— welcoming without the need of a surname. Monique, with her free and silk-like curls, was a firecracker who liked glitter on her lids and her nails and her clothes. Amadi was ever-so loving of her, despite preferring black and chains for her aesthetic. The two girls were a stark contrast of one another— and unsurprisingly, Monique already had her mermaid costume prepared and was just helping out Amadi pick her Dracula ensemble.

Voshon, although quieter, was one you recognized as similarly withdrawn and reserved like Miles when the both of you first met. Amadi described him to be a total nerd, and quirky— later proven when he and Miles chased each other with fake swords, running across the aisles while exchanging hits.

When Voshon tosses over the sword to you, however, chaos truly ensued.

“GO GET HIM!” The girls cheered as you and Miles managed to create a questionable chase scene of a Priestess holding a Minecraft sword chasing after a Plague Doctor with a scythe. Onlookers couldn’t help but watch on as the both of you squabbled.

Like a livid cat and its cheesy mouse.

“Esto en un mamey. You too fuckin’ slow!” He teased in between a heave. “Can’t catch me for shit!”

Shit went down as you bent over to take off your boots.

“That ain’t changing, nun— aye puta.” Miles narrowly avoids one of the shoes that came flying at his direction. He looks over like a child in awe, head following the direction of wherever it went.

“I never knew you were Latina, mam– MIERDA LOCO, CEBOLLA COÑO!” And a couple other curses exit his tongue as you tackled him to the ground with a loud crash.

You let a hearty, chesty giggle escape your lips. The adrenaline got you cackling like a comical villain, that even Miles couldn’t help but laugh helplessly along with you. Seeing you like that, with your hair all wild and your smile at its wildest, it softened his whole being.

“… You’re so pretty, mami.” He airily sighed with a cough to the side.

“.. Sure.” Was all you could answer.

And of course, after getting an earful from the staff, you and Miles finally ended your tiny sword-fighting sequence. After changing out of the costumes, all five of you prompted to test out the animatronics.

It was about taking turns.

“AYE, MAMAHUEVO.”

And it was also when you realized, Amadi was Dominican.

You learned a lot of Spanish that day, especially from one step of a button to activate an animatronic.

Everyone’s mouths were.. Extraordinarily filthy.

But you liked it— from watching bursting and spinning animatronics screaming bloody murder at you, to going around talking about all kinds of things with his friends.

“God, I’ve always wanted one of those.” Amadi points at the lace parasol one of the mannequins were holding. “It’s so Morticia Addams.”

“Well, maybe you should get it.” You suggest. “It’d look great with your vampire costume.”

Amadi sighed. “I only got money for the costume, can’t buy sum like that. Maybe I’ll just DIY it with my nana’s old umbrella.”

You squinted a tiny bit, eyeing the sign that announced in bold lettering: $16.99.

And for privileged little you, the sixteen was just change for a hundred dollar bill, which made you inadvertently blurt out. “I can pay.”

“Nah, girlie, it’s gon’ take me whole two to three months ‘fore I can afford to pay you back.”

“I mean, it’s fine—“ You realized just how spoiled you were sounding. “I recently got my paycheck so I guess I can buy you something.”

“Where do you work, though?” Monique added, clinging onto your other hand as the left one was occupied by Miles. “Like do you work at a café or a restaurant?”

“Family business,” You vaguely replied. “Boring stuff. But my dad pays me well enough, so I guess I can live with it— so maybe I can pay for that.”

“No, no, no.” Amadi answered, accent thick. “Really, we can pay for it ourselves.”

But you couldn’t ignore it. Not when you could see Miles openly contemplating on buying the costume or not— as he’s been fiddling with the price tag the whole time you two were walking. And you’ve seen the way Voshon’s been eyeing the diamond sword for a while now.

So you made up your mind.

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom for a moment— can you hold this for me, Miles?” You gently nudged your costume towards him before walking away without another word. As you did so, the group gawked in confusion.

“… Where’s she going? The bathroom’s that way.”

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello, this is Mr. Chávez’s office, how may I help you?”

A simple, roundabout greeting, said over and over for the last few years. Usually followed by a “No, he’s not available at the moment” or a “I’ll take word”, but for the first time, the secretary stammers in embarrassment with her nails clutching onto the phone for dear life. The old man behind the wide, glass doors took note of his poor assistant’s sudden faltering, yet he maintains naturally unfazed.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll put him on the phone with you right this instant.”

Stumbling in her high heels, the secretary staggers inside the man’s office with the whole telephone in her hand.

“Sir, you’ve got an important call.”

“I’m busy, Nicole.”

“It’s your daughter— Miss [Y/n]?” She uttered your name as though you’d materialize out of thin air after chanting it three times. She was horrified of you.

With a click of his tongue, your father picks up the phone.

“What do you want?” He instantly asks of you.

“Dad, remember how you’ve always claimed that the celebration of halloween is unnecessary?”

Without even uttering an answer, you decisively went on.

“Well, in November, there is a tremendously large spike of sales when it comes to anything horror-related. It’s always been capitalist to clad November as a scary month in order to convince people to buy into scary things—“ He hears something tumble in the background. “— and since late October to early November is usually one of the hotel’s lowest months, I figured my proposal would be a perfect proxy for my apology for the way I acted during dinner.”

You didn’t even know what you were talking about at this point, but you were willing to try.

“.. What are you talking about?” He snaps.

“Well, I—“ You hesitated a bit. “I researched a bit, and I’ve come with an unsure solution.”

“What is it?”

“… Can we buy Spirit Halloween?”

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

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hiii 🌺 how about 141 boys with a s/o that is not into pda and not affectionate

୨♡୧ pda // 141 headcanons ୨♡୧

『 price 』

☆ definitely something for him to get used to. he's not touchy, but physical touch is one of his favorite love languages. he's not going to be bummed out, necessarily, but it would take some time for him to remember the cues.

☆ price enjoys PDA because it seems like the respectful thing to do. a hand on the small of your back or around your waist, etc... but if you're uncomfortable, he'll learn to respect it.

☆ even in private, he only touches the spots you've agreed are fair game. besides, verbal affection is a big thing for him, so that'll fill the void. now, if you ever decide you want some affection; he's the man you'd want.

☆ cupping your cheeks, kissing you along your jaw and shoulders — all whilst looking at you for that silent nod of approval, or even reciprocation. he can't live without touch entirely, but you've definitely taught him a new kind of restraint.

『 simon 』

☆ the perfect match, because he despises physical touch. of course, his dislike stems from deeper issues, but regardless. touch isn't necessary for simon to feel loved, and he makes sure to show his fondness for you in other ways.

☆ acts of service, verbal affection, but mainly quality time. not being all over each other, but still hanging out and enjoying your company. loves hand holding though, especially if you play with his fingers<33

☆ rarely, usually about once a month, he wants to be touched. or wants to touch you, but only in private. putting his head in the crook of your neck, rubbing your waist while too lazy to rise from the bed. and he always knows when you're not in the mood to be touched, too — from hours of studying your body language.

☆ in terms of PDA, you're not getting any — to ensure your safety, to keep your relationship private, etc. if he ever does, it's a hand holding your arm to keep you close. more so to steer you when he's leading the way, but for him, it's pretty forward.

『 soap 』

☆ very touchy person, especially with his lovers, so it's definitely a challenge for him to get used to at times. he's not offended by any means — but he will pout!

☆ out in public, he put a hand around your waist without even thinking. you weren't upset, but he could tell it was making you stressy. "forgot again, my bad, love." his touch eased up instantly, instead just hooking his finger around yours — something unnoticeable enough in terms of PDA.

☆ when at home, though, you two have established a system. "alright, fine, I won't get carried away this time— but just one minute?" how could you say no to that face? and he did ask nicely, after all.

☆ all he wanted, was to get some time cuddling you. but in... his way... which is usually lying on top of you with his head in your chest, practically suffocating you with his weight.

──── just like in this video an anon sent me :3

『 gaz 』

☆ is 50/50 when it comes to affection. sometimes it's too much for him, other times it's all he wants. he especially doesn't care for excessive PDA — aside from a hand over your shoulder, maybe an arm squeeze, but only if it's not a populated area.

☆ the only time affection is fair game, is when he's come home after being deployed. you're not moving — his arms will be squeezing the life out of you for at least a minute straight. then, you're free to tap out.

☆ "no hitting—! we're only at forty seconds, babe." he'll say when you start to squirm, wrapping his arms around you like a python. finds the recoiling humorous at times, but he'd never take it far enough to overstimulate you on purpose.

☆ there are definitely times he has to recoil from affection, too. sometimes he's just not in the mood, but no one understands that better than you, right?

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thetarttfuldickhead · 11 months

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Still not over this episode and still not over how Roy’s love language might be shouting (I mean, it’s quality time, but okay) but the effort he makes to speak Jamie’s language and accommodate Jamie’s needs in the boot room? Ungh. That’s love, baby. And growth.

The moment Jamie starts crying Roy immediately trails off and switches from shouty love to asking what’s wrong. He nods along as Jamie explains the issue. He lets Jamie squish his face and when Jamie clings to him Roy lets him do that too and immediately moves to put an arm around him. And yeah, it’s very much awkward guy pats, but there’s no hesitation. When Will walks in, Roy doesn’t use that as an excuse to extricate himself from the hug, isn’t at all embarrassed to be seen like this, and once Will leaves there’s no indication Roy’s planning on breaking this up before Jamie is ready to let him go.

Roy is clearly not comfortable in this situation, but I think that his discomfort, much like his heartfelt “fuck”, has more to do with him really not knowing how to handle this than anything else. At a loss, he settles for giving Jamie what Jamie’s asking for, feeling woefully inadequate but staying there, being there. Meeting Jamie where Jamie’s at, and doing the best to be what Jamie needs him to be.

Compare with 3x02 when he reflexively pushed Jamie’s attempt at a hug away – and sure, part of that is probably him still being more comfortable caring for others than being cared for, but part of it is growth; an openness to vulnerability that he very much has picked up from Jamie throughout the season, and now is prepared to deal it. (And part of it is just him being damned fond of Jamie and done trying to deny it, but whatever, no big deal, that’s not driving me insane or anything.)

#not done being a little unhinged about this #and like... jamie's growth is so obvious?#and roy's is less so #but it's still very much happening #roy kent #jamie tartt #roy & jamie #roy/jamie #3x11 #meta #my stuff

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streets-in-paradise · 3 months

Text

The Real Deal - Matt Murdock x Witch!Reader

Warnings: I haven't wrote for Daredevil in a long while, so forgive me if i have mistaken details of the show.

Summary: You want to help your lawyers in their most challenging case, but the controversial nature of your skills leaves it up to question.

Tags: @chezagnes

Matt and Foggy meet you as one of their early clients and, in their perspective, you were a simple fortune teller unfortunately caught in a legal issue. Your case was so absurd that it represented easy work for them. Even in the strange times they were living in, it still made no sense. A matter of police profiling through the mass hysteria in the post Loki New York making you suspicious for carrying symbols of norse witchcraft. Runic readings weren't the only service you offered and your practices weren't culturally límited to what then started to be considered an asgardian danger. However, society was still adapting to the discovering and the clueless officers couldn't tell the difference between an asgardian sorceress and the neighborhood's witch. Your lawyers realized of that, and the instant fondness of you that at least half of the firm developed closed the deal for you to get out of trouble.

Unlike most of their clientele, you were managing to pay them in cash. Slow, but consistent payments that also worked as a way to stay in touch. Despite they were highly skeptical of your activity, they did appreciate their owned share of its product. Catholic belief wasn't an obstacle for Matt's flirting and his friend would never miss the chance to tease him for that when you were arround. That precise combination of factors made you be always welcome, but with each visit you noticed they were struggling deeper than just financtially.

They got in serious trouble attempting to legally save the neighborhood from gentrification taking down the lead of the dirty business surrounding it. Even their secretary was involved in the investigation, huge deal that made you feel quite concerned for all of them.

You were relatively new in the city, but that didn't mean you weren't inclined to help. The chain reaction would screw everyone over, except for the top rich.

You weren't an asgardian terrorist, but neither the easy to underestimate facade associated with your business. To some of your clients, the ones coming for meaningless issues or unethical things, you would ocassionally sell advice disguised of bullshit.However, you were a real witch performing unmistakeable results for causes that justified it.

Overhearing the plotting of your favorite lawyers, you found one that was worth all your efforts.

" Let me help you out with Fisk." You interrupted them instead of awaiting for Karen to take your payment. " … A full name, birth date and a personal object is all I need, for a start. "

Foggy couldn't believe what you had just proposed, taking it as absolute nonsense.

" Not in the mood for jokes, Princess Opal. We have a serious situation here, but we will call you to join the search if someone goes missing. "

You didn't let the demeaning comment bring you down, it was exactly what you expected of him.

" Believe it or not, I am a worker of justice just like you." You corrected him ríght away. " When your system fails, some people come to me hoping to rush the action of karma. Others want me to give them the hope in justice that their practicers can't provide. Do you have any idea of how many clients i get that are currently in legal battles, but don't trust the courts to give them what they need for the sake of it? How much work with justice i get demmanded? It's insane! Regardless of what you believe about it, you can't deny it says something. "

Matt was very silent, untill the tease got him snarky.

" We are working to make things better, I hope you will not resent us for winning that hope back. "

You smiled, already struggling to resist his charm. Despite he obviously couldn't see it, you could swear he noticed the effect he had in you.

" On the contrary, I admire you. I know of the kind of hard time you get when trying to do the ríght thing." You admitted, not realizing you were already toying with the tips of your hair. " When an obsessive weirdo comes asking me to magically force someone to love them, or to curse a coworker they envy, I sell them teraphy disguised with self satisfying witchy-sounding talk. Placebos, so they will get someting to come back for and not search for an unethical bastard that could either scam them worse or do the damage they want for the proper price. When worried parents bring a sick child, I do the real healing ritual for free and make up my costs doing readings or charging an asshole tax on the crazy ones. That's who I am, my concience makes me loose money, and i believe we are on the same page when it comes to business models. "

The comparison was strange, but it showed perfect understandment of their situation found in the weirdest of places.

" I was not aware there were ethics in witchcraft. "

" For you only, I'm willing to ignore my code. " You snarked back in a flirtatious tone. " Let me hex Fisk, show him something that would make him regret to mess with the neighborhood. "

Foggy was cautious of your slightly sinister expression at the end and started to think you trully believed in the power on your threat.

" Sounds like a mobster message, clearly not our style. "

" How would that work?" Karen interrupted him. " It won't kill anyone, ríght?"

Her friend stared at her in disbelief.

" You can't be serious. "

" Foggy, gods have fallen from the sky ... I say we let her give it a try. "

" Those were aliens, not gods. " Matt corrected. " I don't believe in curses, it comes with being a catholic. "

He did make you chuckle with that one.

" Well, hipocricy also comes with catholicism. "

" She got you … can't beat the allegations! " Foggy teased him ríght away. " Your fault for making us jump in defense of the beautifull savage for you to play missionary with. "

You both were left in evidence on a matter of seconds.

" Thanks, Foggy! It's the first lovely thing about me you have to say today."

He didn't intend to sound harsh, but he couldn't possibly understand you.

" Try to see things from my perspective: i feel like i'm being mocked. "

" If it eases your concience, the methods are mostly a facade. I'm the real deal, it runs in the blood. " You confessed, wondering if you would regret it later. " Mom thinks i got it from my father. I don't know, I never meet him and at this point i don't think I want to. Don't waste time asking me about that."

" Can you cast the honesty curse from ' Liar, Liar'? That would be really helpfull. " Foggy mocked you once more. " We seek to expose Fisk, get him in jail. Even if we could believe you, I don't see how your offer can be any usefull. "

At least you could say you got him Interested. Weirded, maybe, but attentive.

" I can curse his business. Mysterious incidents will keep happening and he will loose money. Of course, I believe the Devil is doing his part on that, but why not giving him some help? Fisk will be easier for you to legally take down if he has too many things to attend at once. A vigilante and the curse of a real witch should be enough to do the dirty work for you. One problem, he may attempt to solve, but who is going to warn him about me? Even if they would … Do you think he would believe it?"

The next objection came from Matt, but that didn't surprise you as it should.

" Well, for a start we don't work with vigilantes."

" Too late, i think he is working with you." You snarked back. " Sounds like a good plan to me. After all, your church believes witches are the devil's consorts, ríght?"

In that simple comment he obtained all the proof he needed to believe in your gifts, realization that stayed between him and you.

#matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #matt murdock x reader #daredevil x reader #charlie cox x reader #netflix daredevil

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