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thewulf · 4 months ago

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When the Laughter Stops || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - I was wondering if you could do one with Jake Seresin where him and the reader are co workers (but they liked each other a lot and are idiots) and she flirts with him a lot, like constantly and he mostly just laughs it off but flirt back sometimes, but she suddenly stops one day and is very quiet and he's worried... Read Rest Here

A/N: Gosh I just love Jake. I really hope they make another TG movie with our boy in it <3 Thank you for the request @stuffingbuttsandshit

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Word Count: 3.3k+

T/W : Violation (Not Jake), Talk of Weapons, Talk of break in

Mornings at North Island always started the same way.

Your headset was already on, comms running smooth as you relayed flight data to Mav and the rest of the squadron. You had everything under control because that’s what you did. You were the best at what you did. And you knew it. You didn’t spend years at the Academy and across the country to be mediocre at your job. You were good and you knew it.

Jake Seresin knew it too.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” came the familiar, honey-dipped drawl over your shoulder before he even stepped into the control room. You grinned into your headset. He was right on schedule as always.

You didn’t turn around immediately instead letting the anticipation hang for a second longer before glancing over your shoulder. He was leaning against your desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching you with that insufferably handsome smirk that was as much a part of him as his damn callsign.

“Hangman,” you greeted, flashing him an easy smile. “Looking as sharp as ever. It must really be exhausting carrying around that much charm all the time.”

His smirk deepened as he took you in. “It is, actually darlin’. But I manage.”

You made a show of giving him a once-over. That green flight suit zipped halfway, dog tags resting against the fabric of his undershirt and that confidence oozing from every pore. Annoyingly attractive, you noted. Not that you’d ever admit it out loud. But damn, the man was hot as hell.

“Good thing I’m here to keep you humble,” you teased while tapping your earpiece as the radio crackled.

Jake leaned in slightly, just enough that you caught the faint scent of his aftershave. The scent curled through the air: rich sandalwood, and cedar laced with smoky vetiver and that deep warmth of amber and musk. Dark, refined, and impossible to forget. Just like man who wore it. And who was currently staring a hole in the side of your head.

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t wanna do that. What would you flirt with if I wasn’t around?” He gave you a devious smirk as his eyes traced your face.

You arched a brow, lips curling. “Oh, I’d manage.”

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head like you were something impossible. “Damn shame sweetheart.” This was the rhythm. The effortless push and pull. The game neither of you called by name but both played with unmatched skill.

“Seresin, you done harassing my officer?” Maverick’s voice cut in from across the room with nothing but amusement lacing in his tone.

Jake straightened slightly but didn’t look away from you. “Just making sure my sweetheart starts her day right, Mav.”

You shot Mav an eyeroll before turning back to Jake. “Aw, how sweet of you Jake.” You cooed at him.

Jake hummed, tilting his head. “Sweet’s not usually what they call me, darlin’.”

The way he said it, low and teasing, sent a thrill up your spine. But you didn’t let it show. Instead, you reached for the mission brief on your desk, casually brushing your fingers against his arm as you passed it to him.

“Guess I’m just special then,” you said with an easy grin.

His eyes flickered with something. Something unreadable. Something dangerous. But the moment passed as quickly as it had come.

“Guess you are,” he murmured. His voice softer this time.

And just like that, he was gone, heading out to brief with the others, leaving behind the faintest trace of his presence. You exhaled, shaking your head to yourself. Yeah. This was the rhythm. At least, it had been. Until everything changed.

Until last night.

Until you woke up to the sound of your front door creaking open.

Until you reached for the bedside drawer, heart pounding, breath shallow, fingers closing around the cold metal of the weapon you kept there. The weapon you dreaded ever having to use.

Until you saw him. A dark figure standing at the foot of your bed, a knife glinting faintly in the sliver of moonlight filtering through your curtains.

Your body had moved on instinct, years of training kicking in before fear could fully take hold. The moment you pointed your weapon at him, he hesitated just long enough for you to move. You sprang from the bed, voice sharp and unyielding, ordering him to back off. And then just as quickly as he had come he was gone. Like a wraith in the night.

The cops arrived minutes later but it didn’t matter. He was already long gone, leaving behind nothing but an overturned chair, a shattered sense of security, and the lingering imprint of fear in your bones.

You barely slept after that, sitting with your back to the wall, weapon still gripped tightly in your hands until the sun started to rise.

And now you were here, at work, trying to pretend like nothing had changed. But Jake knew you too well. So, when he walked into the control room, expecting your usual teasing grin, expecting the flirtation that had become second nature between you. He immediately noticed the difference. You were at your desk, headset on, posture stiff, eyes trained on the monitors like they held the secrets of the universe. No smirk, no playful roll of your eyes when he approached. No wink. No greeting.

And that was the first sign that something was very, very wrong.

Jake frowned, slowing his stride. He leaned against your desk, arms crossing over his chest in the same lazy way he always did, waiting for you to acknowledge him. Nothing.

He tilted his head. “Morning, sweetheart,” he drawled, watching for a reaction.

Your fingers stilled on the keyboard, just for a second, but then you resumed typing like you hadn’t heard him. His frown deepened. Okay. Maybe you were just busy. Maybe Mav had you swamped with flight schedules or logistics nightmares. Maybe.

But then he really looked at you.

Your usual fire, the effortless confidence that made your job look easy was gone. In its place was something tight, something controlled. He followed the subtle tension in your shoulders. The way your jaw stayed clenched even as you kept working. Something wasoff.

“You sick or somethin’?” Jake asked, lowering his voice, trying to meet your gaze.

You finally looked at him but the second your eyes met his you blinked quickly and dropped them again. “I’m fine,” you said too flatly. Too rehearsed. With no emotion in the usual boisterous voice of yours.

Jake’s stomach twisted. Bullshit. You weren’t fine. He knew fine, and this wasn’t it. But what he didn’t know was why. For the first time since meeting you, Jake felt the shift. The invisible wall you’d put up overnight, cutting him out without warning. And he hatedit. Where there should’ve been fire, there was only silence.

Jake tried to ignore it at first. Maybe you were just having an off day. Maybe you were tired. Maybe whatever had drained the light from your eyes would pass on its own.

But as the day dragged on, he knew that wasn’t the case. You barely spoke, sticking to clipped, professional responses when you had to interact with him or anyone else. You kept your head down, shoulders drawn in. It was so unlike you. It made his skin itch.

Then, when someone brushed past you in the hallway. Just a casual, harmless pass. You flinched. It was small, barely noticeable, but Jake saw it. And that was all it took. His blood ran cold. He knew that reaction. Had seen it before. And it sent every instinct he had into overdrive.

The rest of the day, he didn’t leave you alone. Not in a way that would spook you, but he made sure he was always nearby, always watching. You barely acknowledged him and that was the final crack in his patience. By the time your shift ended, he was donewaiting.

You had just stepped outside the hangar when he caught up to you. He moved fast enough that you had no choice but to stop. "Sweetheart," he said. And this time his voice wasn’t teasing, wasn’t lazy or smug. It was quiet. Steady. Serious.

You hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. “Jake, I—”

“Something’s wrong,” he cut in. His green eyes searching your face. “And I need you to tell me what it is.”

Your breath faltered. You didn’t answer right away but the way your gaze darted away. The way your lips pressed together like you were afraid to speak made his stomach twist. He softened, stepping closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Hey. It’s me, alright? Just me. You can tell me.”

You swallowed hard. And then finally your walls started to crack. “I—” You exhaled shakily, like forcing the words out might break you. “Someone broke into my house last night.”

Jake went still.

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you continued. “I woke up and he was just there. He had a knife… I think he would have tried to grab me. But I fought back, I scared him off but…” You sucked in a breath. Shaking your head unbelieving that this had even happened to you. “He ran before the cops got there. They haven’t found him. They won’t find him most likely.”

Jake’s fists clenched. His entire body went rigid. His jaw locking so hard it ached. Jesus Christ. The thought of you alone, terrified, fighting off some bastard in the middle of the night made his vision go red. He wanted to break something. No, he wanted to findthe bastard who did this. But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, you mattered.

Carefully he reached for you. His fingers grazing your wrist before he slid his hand fully over yours. His grip was firm, grounding. Warm.

“Jesus, darlin’,” he murmured. His voice tight, lethal with restrained fury but when he looked at you again all he let you see was the concern. The unwavering steadiness. “You’re safe now, okay? I promise you, you’re safe.” And for the first time all day, your body eased just a little. Just enough.

You weren’t sure who moved first. One second, you were standing there, raw and exposed with your confession hanging in the air between you. The next, Jake’s arms were around you, solid and steady, pulling you against his chest. And you let him. The moment his warmth surrounded you, the breath you had been holding all day broke free in a shaky exhale. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his flight suit, gripping tight, grounding yourself in him. Breathing in the woody scent that always seemed to coat him.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just held you. And God, you hadn’t realized how much you needed it until now. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. His voice a low, steady rumble against your ear. “You’re safe. No one’s scaring you again, I swear it.” You knew his words weren’t empty promises, weren’t meaningless reassurances. They were a vow.

Jake pulled back just enough to look at you, one hand lifting to cup the side of your face. His thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. “You’re not staying at your place alone tonight.” He said with such conviction.

You blinked up at him. “Jake—”

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” The smirk was there, but softer, missing its usual cocky edge. He tilted his head. “You really think I’m gonna walk away after what you just told me? Not a chance darlin’.” Your resolve wavered. You should tell him you’ll be fine. That you don’t need him hovering. But the idea of being alone in that house, of walking through those doors and feeling that fear claw at you again…

You swallowed hard and nodded. “I have a guest room,” you murmured. “You can take the guest room.”

Jake’s smirk deepened. “Whatever you say, darlin’. I’ll sleep on the porch if you want.” You smiled softly. Jake had a way of doing that for you. Charming bastard he was.

Jake didn’t waste a second when he got to your home. The second you stepped inside he was already moving. He checked the locks, testing the windows, making sure every single point of entry was secure. You stood off to the side watching as he knelt by your front door, brows furrowed in concentration as he worked to reinforce the deadbolt.

“You know,” you said while crossing your arms, “I could’ve called a locksmith for that.”

He glanced up, flashing you that signature Jake Seresin smirk. “Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to prove to you that I’m useful outside the cockpit.” You rolled your eyes but for the first time all day there was the tiniest tug of amusement behind it. And Jake saw it. Reveled in it.

After he was satisfied that your place was Fort Knox-level secure, he finally let you settle. The tension still lingered, though thin, stretched tight under your skin. He noticed it in the way your shoulders stayed rigid. In the way your fingers curled slightly like you were bracing yourself for something.

So, he did the only thing he knew how to do.

He made you laugh.

You weren’t sure when the tension finally started to ease but at some point you found yourself curled up on the couch half-listening as Jake recounted some absurd training exercise where Phoenix had absolutely wrecked him in a dogfight.

“—I swear to God, I had her, I had her, and then at the last second, she pulls this insane move out of nowhere. Next thing I know, she’s behind me, cackling like a damn supervillain and I’m dead in the water.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “I bet she lovedthat.”

“Oh, she hasn’t shut up about it since,” Jake admitted, shaking his head in exasperation. “I’ll never live it down. Worst part is, Mav saw the whole thing. Didn’t even bother hiding the smug look.”

You let out a small laugh and Jake stilled. It was quiet, barely there, but it was real. His smirk softened, something shifting behind his eyes. For the first time ever, he really looked at you. Not just as the woman who sparred with him, who kept up with his banter, who never let him get the last word. But as you. The woman who had been terrified last night. The woman who had been shakentoday. The woman he never wanted to see rattled like that again.

You felt the shift too because your smile faded slightly. Your gaze flickering over his face like you were searching for something. Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Thanks, Jake.”

His throat bobbed. The muscles in his jaw flexing like he was holding something back. He should’ve said something. Should’ve teased. Should’ve smirked and drawn out the moment. Should’ve eased you back into the comfort of your usual game. But he didn’t. Because this wasn’t the game anymore.

His hand lifted before he could stop himself. His fingers brushing along the side of your face. His thumb grazing your cheek so lightly, so gently, like he was afraid you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

Your breath caught but you didn’t move away. Didn’t say a word. Couldn’t say a word. And then your eyes flicked down to his mouth just for a second, but long enough. Long enough for him to see it. To feelit.

His pulse kicked hard against his ribs, a slow, building pressure coiling in his chest, in his gut. Jesus. You wanted this. You wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you.

Something cracked wide open between you in that moment. Something unspoken but undeniable. Something that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long it was a wonder it hadn’t boiled over sooner.

Jake’s breath was warm against your skin as he leaned in, his nose barely brushing yours. Giving you the chance to back away if you wanted. He could feel the way you inhaled sharply. The way your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your hoodie like you were holding yourself back.

His thumb traced the edge of your jaw. His voice dropping to something barely above a whisper. “Don’t thank me, darlin’.”

And without thinking, without second-guessing, without giving either of you a chance to step back. He kissed you. It was slow, like he had all the time in the world to memorize the way your lips felt against his. It was lingering, like he wasn’t sure if this was the first or the last time he’d get to do this. It wasn’t playful. Wasn’t teasing. It was real.

When he pulled back, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, wasn’t tense. It was heavy with something unspoken. With something waiting to be acknowledged. But instead of speaking Jake just gave you one last lingering look before pressing a softer barely-there kiss to your forehead. A silent promise. A quiet reassurance.

“Get some sleep sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The scent of fresh coffee pulled you from sleep. For a moment, you lay there, disoriented, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through your curtains. Your brain slowly caught up. You hadn’t made coffee. And there was only one other person in your house who would.

Jake.

You pushed back the covers and padded toward the kitchen. The wood floor cool against your bare feet. And there he was.

Jake Seresin stood at your stove pouring coffee into two mugs like he’d done it a hundred times before. His flight suit jacket was still draped over a chair, but he’d changed into the sweatpants you’d tossed at him last night. The fabric hanging low on his hips in a way that was far too distracting this early in the morning. His hair was still messy, slightly sleep-ruffled, and for some reason that made your stomach do something ridiculous.

He looked comfortable here. In your space. Like he belonged. And you liked it. Liked the way it looked. Liked the way he looked. God help you.

At the sound of your footsteps he turned, flashing you a grin. “Mornin’, sweetheart.” He held out a mug. “Figured you might need this.”

You crossed your arms but took it anyway, inhaling deeply before your first sip. Perfect. Of course, he makes perfect coffee, too. “Didn’t take you for a domestic type, Seresin,” you muttered, lifting an eyebrow. Trying your best to look annoyed but you were anything but that.

Jake smirked while leaning a hip against the counter. “You saying you expected me to sneak out before sunrise?”

You hummed, taking another sip. “Wouldn’t have been the first time a Navy pilot bailed on me.”

His smirk faltered just slightly. Just enough to make your lips twitch. “Not my style, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head. Then after a beat he nudged your elbow. “You slept okay?”

The teasing had softened and the warmth in his voice caught you off guard. You hesitated, fingers curling around your mug, but the truth easily came this time.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “I did. I slept more than okay.” Because knowing he was just a room over made it easy to relax. Jake studied you for a second. His green eyes sharp, thoughtful, like he was making sure you meant it.

Satisfied, he clinked his mug against yours, smirk returning full force. “Good. ‘Cause I make a damn good bodyguard. But I make an even better breakfast. What’s it gonna be, sweetheart? Eggs or pancakes?”

You blinked. “You’re making breakfast too?”

Jake gave you a slow, lazy grin. “Oh, darlin’, you think I’m lettin’ you start your day without a full meal andmy charming company? Hate to break it to you, but you’re really bad at getting rid of me.”

You scoffed while shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“Charming,” he corrected, winking.

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to fight, “Pancakes. I like my breakfasts sweet.”

He gave you that devilish grin, “Noted darlin’.”

And just like that. That something between you and Jake Seresin shifted. For good.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up) @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mamachasesmayhem @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @illisea @jessicab1991 @guacam011y @dempy @mrsevans90 @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @missxmav @kajjaka @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ryswritingrecord @lostinwonderland314 @xxrougefangxx @greantii @tallrock35 @hyunjinvoid @ahoeforfandomsblog

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typebeauty · 2 years ago

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best-cosmetics123 · 1 year ago

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pomefioredove · 1 year ago

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Hiii! I adore your writings especially the vill fics thank you for blessing us vil fans 😭🙏💕

Can you please write soulmate au with vil and the perks of being soulmate with him? Thank youuu

thank you so much, that's so sweet!!! and OHHH soulmate.... so good

summary: soulmates type of post: fic characters: vil additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is not specified to be yuu, FLUFFY, lovesick vil forever

Vil Schoenheit had always deemed the existence of "soulmates" to be a thing confined in the lines of a poem.

Ever the rationalist, Vil hadn't even entertained the fantasy of meeting his "perfect match", if such a person even existed. His life was not that of a cheesy movie script he'd turn down.

Finding someone who could cope with his strict lifestyle would be a miracle in and of itself.

...And if you had asked Vil Schoenheit what his image of the perfect partner would be, he would say exactly that.

Someone beautiful, intelligent, responsible, with the dedication and discipline to keep up with him.

Spoken with a sardonic smile and honeyed words, Vil knew that his chances of actually finding someone to meet his standards, to keep up with him, were slim.

He couldn't have possibly imagined having to keep up with you, instead.

You were like a shooting star; swift and bright, moving faster than he could fathom, cutting through the dark parts of his life like a hot blade.

Something for him to wish on.

Beautiful.

Like nothing he could have ever imagined.

There was a radiance in everything you did, one that made your skin glow with or without products, a certain warmth that so contrasted the refined and elegant image he'd grown to associate with beauty.

Vil would eagerly tend to your every need. It was a dream just to touch you, to have the honor of pushing your hair out of your face.

He would savor every second of grazing your skin, of tracing your features with delicate fingertips, if only just to cleanse your pores after a long day.

With you, every simple action is beautiful.

Vil enjoys pampering people he cares for, and thus your life is full of high-end products, the best groceries money can buy, and his personal advice from the very second he sets eyes on you.

He would gladly do your personalized skincare routine with you every night and every morning if time allowed it.

2. Intelligent.

In such a way that makes him eager to understand you.

Really, it's your insatiable curiosity that draws him in.

He could spend hours upon hours simply listening to you talk. Your interests begin excite him just as much as they excite you, your passion for learning and creating capture his attention with ease.

There's never a dull moment between the two of you.

What others might consider useless conversations about trivial matters, Vil holds to the highest regard.

It comes to the point where he begins asking you for opinions, even if he knows he'll disagree with your answer, just to hear your perfect voice, just to watch your expression change in the way it does when you're thinking.

He's infatuated with your thought process, with the way your mind works.

Understanding you is not a labor, but a privilege.

3. Responsible.

To where all he could ask for is you and your gentle touch.

You care. Whether you're aware of it or not, you care so deeply about the people in your life, it almost puts Vil to shame.

Paired with your determination and resilience, and your ceaseless sense of independence, it's absolutely irresistible to him.

Vil is so unfamiliar with the way you treat him. Tenderly, and softly, like he's something that needs to be taken care of. You don't put him on a high shelf like a trophy, but carry him at your side, like a beloved doll.

He's never been at the receiving end of such consideration.

On the days where it feels as if the world is coming undone around him, he has somewhere to go. A place to hide, where he can forget all that he's supposed to be, and just simply be instead.

You are a home to him.

Vil knows that the both of you are perfectly capable (exemplary, even) at minding yourselves, though that's exactly what makes this tenderness you share all the better.

Independence is a gift, though one that he'll gladly set aside for a time, to be alone and soft with you.

4. Keeping Up.

Some days, it feels as if he's hanging onto you for dear life.

Afraid that if he looks away for even a moment, you'd vanish, leaving him alone with all of his naive, shallow thoughts on what his soulmate should be.

You're a dream to him. Far better than anything he ever could have asked for, or even imagined. He would be a fool to let you get away, he knows as much.

And perhaps he doesn't have the words to express it yet, perhaps he does. Perhaps these thoughts of his are tucked away in a journal, imbued in the lines of a poem, or in the color choices of a floral arrangement. Perhaps he whispers them to you in the early hours of the morning, still caught in that dreamlike space between sleep and wake.

One thing has become clear to him, though: Vil could never adequately describe all that he wants in a soulmate.

You're far too complex to put in a single sentence.

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #queued

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msfandomsblog · 5 months ago

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Alastor x fem!ballerina-reader

This is my first alastor x reader fic! I don't know how many parts imma make but it will be somewhat a slow burn.

Also this is mostly your backstory

Hope you enjoy!

warnings: use of y/n, being laughed at, implied death, blood, readers insane like Al, guns, suicide, kinda short anddddddd yeah

In life you were one of the greatest pointe dancer in the world. In death, eh, not so much. Yes you danced but this was simple practice, hell wasn't exactly known for its refined~ practice. Your demon form was simple, you were tall (charlie sized) pale and had small wings on your back. Swan wings, that you could enlarge in and out at your will, not that you usually needed to. You mostly had them compact to your back. Most of your friends wondered why you were in hell to begin with, you were always civil to most characters. There was ofc the off-hand time where you'd threaten any demon who'd dare touch you or close friends, but... who's keeping count!?

As for the reason why you were there well... yes being a dancer had its purks but, it had just as many faults.

More then once at a young age in life you were cast for the villain rolls of dances, plays, etc.

You asked you teachers why and their answer was always, "the way you play it y/n! your body language, face and being on stage! you just do it so well"

As you progressed through as an actress and dancer you were never the 'princess' or the main heroin. Only the dark, cold villain. The black swan, The mouse king, Maleficent. How you longed to be the beauty and not the beast.

Not only did this anger you but soon after a while many other dancers would avoid you because of your 'villain' demeanor on stage. This caused you to grow a hatred for your fellows. It all became too much one day.

It was dress rehearsal, your last one before your last show, and the boys got a wise idea for a prank to play on their black swan. When rehearsing your first entrance you moved over to stage right when suddenly a type of slime/glue pored on you, burning your eyes and ruining your clothes. Then the lead boy shot what looked like a party popper at you but instead of confetti, landed black feathers. The boys were on hunched over laughing, 'childish' you thought while glaring at them.

Every other dancer turned their heads or ran over to see what was oh so funny. Once they all started laughing or turned their head to hide smiles, the director yelled at them all, "oi! that's enough, this isn't a baby recital that you did when you were 5! this isn't mature! Boys, help y/n and run 40 laps around the stage ey?" But it was too late, you'd decided right then and there.

So they saw you as the villain hm? You'd be happy to oblige.

The next day you played your part amazingly well but it was your next audition that excited you. It was for the seasonal part in the nutcracker. As always you were given the part, The mouse king.

When you met the lead playing Clara, the young girl heroin, you saw she was a perfectly civil young dancer. She met her end quickly enough tho.

When you came around to auditioning for The Sleeping Beauty and once again did not get Aurora, you found it quite enjoyable to get rid of the blonde broad that played her.

Then there was Romeo and Juliet. you never did audition for this one, reasons unknown to you. But when you did you somehow found that you felt no sadness you got the email saying that you didn't get the part of Juliet. You instead found joy when you cracked a wide smile as the blood of the girl who did get the part flowed down your hands.

Pretty thing she was, good dancer too. poor thing. ah well.

After about 3 years of of getting away with this little 'hobby; of yours you were found out and surrounded by a large S.W.A.T team. The team leader spoke softly to you.

"Miss y/n, please put your hands up, and drop the gun."

You were so annoyed by this, you'd had to use the damn thing to kill a small African-american girl who was playing Coopelia. You didn't like using guns but this was supposed to be quick. You'd even bought a silencer for the job.

"No officer, I don't think I will." You said back. you smiled as you turned to face the 20 guns pointed at you.

"You won't make it out alive L/n" He said trying to convince you.

"I don't plan on it," And smiling you flipped them off as you shot the gun at your own neck.

OKKKKKKK that was part 1! I hope ya'll like it and stay tuned. I don't know if you could tell but I am ballet dancer, I'm not professional yet but I know quite a bit.

y/n might be oc just a warning but again my first fic sooooo.

Anyway!!!!!! have a good day/night little humans!

part 2!

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #fanfic #hazbin x you #hazbin x y/n #hazbin x reader #alastor x y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin au #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #ballet dancer

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hifumi-123 · 2 months ago

Text

When You Stay Over at Their Place

Characters: Kiryu Kazuma, Y0! Nishikiyama Akira, Aoki Ryo, Majima Goro

Kiryu Kazuma

- The moment you step into his bathroom for a hot shower, you realize there’s only one bottle of body wash in there.

- You pick it up for a closer look—only to find it’s a 13-in-1 men’s body wash.

- Yes, you read that right. Thirteen-in-one.

- It claims to function as body wash, shampoo, conditioner, facial cleanser, toothpaste, mouthwash, eye drops, moisturizer, protein powder, sports drink, toilet cleaner, floor disinfectant, and laundry detergent.

- You stare in disbelief. Everything after "mouthwash" has clearly crossed the line from bath products. How the hell does Kiryu use this stuff without his face melting off? And yet, his skin and hair are flawless.

- There’s no way you’re putting that on your body, so you end up just rinsing off with water.

- After the shower, since Kiryu doesn’t own any women’s pajamas, you borrow his clothes.

- His clothes, like the man himself, carry a faint woody scent. But the thought that they were probably washed with that 13-in-1 abomination makes your skin itch uncontrollably.

"Didn’t you just shower?" Kiryu asks, watching you scratch yourself like a madman.

You shoot him a glare. "It’s because your house doesn’t have a single normal bottle of body wash!"

Kiryu blinks, genuinely confused by your anger. "That body wash works fine. I’ve always used that brand."

"I don’t care! Tomorrow, you’re buying proper body wash and shampoo, or I’m never coming over again!" you snap.

Kiryu frowns, deep in thought for a few seconds, as if seriously considering your demand.

"...But," he says slowly, "there’s still a lot left in that bottle. Buying new ones would be wasteful."

"Wasteful my ass!" You nearly jump in frustration. "That thing isn’t meant for human use! Where the hell did you even buy that chemical weapon?!"

"Donki," he answers honestly. "It was on sale—buy one, get one free."

"..." You cover your face and take a deep breath, trying to calm down. This man’s brain has definitely been fried by that 13-in-1 body wash.

"Listen, Kazuma," you say, "normal people don’t use body wash that can also clean toilets. Understand?"

He falls silent, his gaze drifting toward the bathroom as if reminiscing about his years of bathing with the stuff. Finally, he nods. "...Fine. I’ll buy new ones tomorrow."

Nishikiyama Akira

- Nishiki is a man of refinement—just look at his silky, well-maintained hair.

- Unlike someone, Nishiki would never stoop to using 2-in-1 shampoo. Instead, he owns separate bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and hair mask.

- Lathering, rinsing, treating—he approaches each step with meticulous care, spending a full hour on his hair. Drying it takes another thirty minutes, and he even applies hair oil beforehand to prevent split ends.

Knowing you’d be staying at Nishiki’s place tonight, you secretly wore a set of black lace lingerie—his favorite. Your plan was to "accidentally" let your clothes slip after he finished showering, just to see his stunned reaction.

But Nishiki’s shower takes forever.

"Deep-cleansing shampoo → scalp massage (5 min) → hair mask (30 min) → body wash → exfoliation → cold water to close pores..."

—His routine is like some kind of sacred ritual.

You wait on the couch, listening to the sound of running water and the clinking of bottles from the bathroom, until you eventually doze off.

In your half-asleep state, you feel someone gently lifting you by your back and knees. When you open your eyes, Nishiki is looking down at you, his skin carrying the faint scent of his expensive body wash.

"...Why’d you fall asleep here?" he murmurs, his voice softer than usual.

Still groggy, you try to answer, but he effortlessly carries you to bed. His arms are warm, his chest pressed against your cheek, and you can hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

As he tucks you in, you struggle to wake up and execute your "surprise plan," but he wraps the blankets tightly around you. "Just sleep. " he says, ruffling your hair. As he pulls his hand back, his fingers brush against the lace strap peeking out from your collar—

—He definitely noticed.

But the next second, the bedside lamp clicks off. In the darkness, you hear him chuckle. "I won’t take so long tomorrow."

Aoki Ryo

- Aoki is your boss, but your relationship is... well, complicated.

- You explore each other’s bodies like lovers—in empty offices late at night, in hotel rooms, leaving scorching marks with fingertips and lips. But when morning comes, he reverts to the composed Governor of Tokyo, and you’re just another subordinate, as if last night’s intimacy never happened.

- Not that you mind. In fact, you were the one who proposed keeping things this way—dramatic relationships are too much trouble. All you want is someone to satisfy your needs when you’re lonely, nothing more.

- No good morning texts, no constant togetherness, no endless empty promises.

- No debts, no obligations—just mutual warmth when needed, nothing beyond that.

- Usually, you meet at hotels, but tonight, Aoki invites you to his place for dinner, and you end up staying over.

After an intense session, your skin sticky with sweat, you push off his damp chest, grab the shirt he discarded earlier, and head to the bathroom barefoot.

Aoki’s bathroom is spacious and minimalist, the marble countertop gleaming under cold light. You turn on the faucet, splashing cool water on your flushed face—but when you look up, you freeze.

On the sink sits a brand-new bottle of makeup remover.

Not just that—next to it is a lineup of your usual high-end skincare products. You never told him what brands you use. A fluffy new towel is neatly folded nearby, complete with a headband for washing your face. There’s even an unopened toothbrush in a cup that matches his—as if this home had always reserved a space for you.

Your throat tightens. Oh hell no. This is way too much.

The water keeps running, but you’re rooted in place. The mirror reflects the marks on your neck—the ones he left earlier with near-desperate intensity. Suddenly, you recall his uncharacteristic silence tonight, the slight tremble in his fingers when he gripped your wrists—

—Turns out, in this game, someone has unknowingly crossed the line.

"What’s wrong?"

Aoki’s voice comes from behind. His bangs, still damp with sweat, fall over his forehead, and his usually sharp gaze is softer now.

"...When did you prepare all this?" you ask, forcing calm into your voice.

Aoki glances at the items on the sink and shrugs. "Just bought them randomly."

"Liar. These are all my usual brands." You call out his flimsy excuse without mercy. "For a relationship like ours, this stuff is unnecessary, don’t you think?"

If you’d gone to a hotel, all traces would’ve vanished by dawn. Makeup remover, skincare, matching toothbrush cups—none of this fits your arrangement.

"I know," he cuts in, his fingers brushing your cheek. "We take what we need. No interference."

His thumb grazes your lower lip, but his eyes are terrifyingly calm. "But how I arrange my home is my business."

You suddenly realize—this man is pushing boundaries, inch by inch, dissolving the unspoken rules between you.

God, he’s latched onto you. This is getting troublesome.

As his lips crush against yours, the thought coils tight in your chest: You’ll never shake him off now.

Majima Goro

- This is your first time staying at his place, and his bathroom is normal—at least compared to Kiryu’s "13-in-1 biochemical weapon" and Nishiki’s shrine to haircare.

- The shelves are neatly stocked with body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, all labels facing outward. Surprisingly tidy.

- But when you open the closet to look for pajamas, your entire body locks up.

- There are several sets of women’s sleepwear—understandable, since Majima is popular with women.

- But what the hell is that neon pink snakeskin tube dress doing there? And that ridiculous blonde wig next to it?

- You hold up the dress. The size... there’s no way this is for an average woman.

- No no no... this is all wrong. Even for cosplay, what woman would willingly wear something this tacky? Which means only one possibility...

- Oh god. Is Majima actually...? Are you just a cover to hide his real sexuality?!

The bathroom door suddenly slides open. Majima pokes his head out, hair still dripping. "Find the pajamas? I bought some new ones for you—"

He spots the snakeskin dress in your hands and pauses. Then he sighs. "Ah... you found out, huh?"

You hold up the dress accusingly. "What the hell is this?"

"Oh, that? I wore it to mess with Kiryu-chan," Majima answers casually.

"...Mess with Kiryu?" you repeat slowly, your mind conjuring images of Kiryu facing off against a blonde-wigged, neon-clad Majima. You shake your head violently to erase that atrocious picture.

"Yep!" Majima steps closer, steam still rising from his body. "Back then, he’d just gotten outta prison, and I wanted to see if he’d lost his edge. But he refused to fight me no matter what! So I had to get creative—bought this outfit, slapped on the wig, and posed as a hostess to lure him to a cabaret club. The look on his face when he saw me? Priceless."

You imagine Kiryu’s expression upon encountering a full-glam Majima and feel a pang of sympathy for the legendary "Dragon of Dojima."

"So... you’re not into cross-dressing or anything...?" you ask hesitantly.

Majima blinks, then bursts out laughing. "Wait, that’s why you were so pissed just now?"

You roll your eyes. "Who the hell dresses up as a hostess just to pick a fight...?"

"Heh." Majima suddenly grins, his eye glinting with mischief. "I’ve got even better ones."

He rummages through the closet and pulls out a police uniform and a pair of handcuffs, dangling them in front of you with a playful smirk. "Whaddya say? Wanna go for round two?"

As you stare at his eager expression, it suddenly makes sense why Kiryu avoids him—this man’s dedication to messing around is downright terrifying.

Bonus: Akiyama Shun!

- Akiyama’s old house lmao

I’m not a big fan of writing, but I was STARVING, so I had to cook for myself

#ryu ga gotoku #yakuza #like a dragon #majima goro #kiryu kazuma #akira nishikiyama #ryo aoki #masato arakawa #rgg x reader #yakuza x reader #majima goro x reader #kiryu kazuma x reader #nishikiyama akira x reader

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aspenmissing · 4 months ago

Note

Ok a bit of a sillier request but a viktor x reader where reader is just over the moon about him that she devises whole plans and strategies to woo him but fails miserably in all attempts (or does she?👀)

4ᴛʜ ᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍ

ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 1755 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜ ᴍʏ, ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴀ ɴɪᴄᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ ʀᴇʟᴀxᴇʀ, ɢʟᴀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ

Y/N sat in her dimly lit room, hands busy with yarn as she crafted yet another intricate crochet piece. But her mind was far from the soft, soothing rhythm of her needles. It was fixed firmly on one subject: Viktor.

Her heart fluttered at the thought of him. Viktor, the brilliant scientist who always spoke with such care, his sharp mind hidden behind the calm demeanour. She could see how his eyes lit up when he spoke about his work, his passion for the future of both Piltover and Zaun. Y/N had fallen for him in every possible way. And now? Now, she had a plan—a series of plans, to be exact.

She smiled to herself, imagining how he'd react when she put her carefully crafted strategies into motion.

Plan 1: The Perfect Gift

Y/N had read about Viktor’s love for rare mechanical parts and exotic materials in one of his many journals. Armed with this knowledge, she ventured into the markets of Piltover, searching for the perfect piece to catch his attention. After days of scouring the market stalls, she finally found it: an intricate copper gear, polished to perfection. It was elegant, rare, and she was certain Viktor would be impressed.

The day she presented it to him, she was practically vibrating with excitement. Viktor, ever the meticulous researcher, took the gear in his hands and turned it over, examining its craftsmanship. His expression was focused, his brow furrowed in thought.

“This is... quite unique,” he murmured, looking up at her. “Where did you find this?”

Y/N beamed, eager to share her discovery. “I thought you’d like it. I remembered how much you appreciate mechanics.”

Viktor nodded, studying the gear again. “It’s certainly a fine piece of work... but this is an older design. I’m afraid it won’t work with anything I’m currently building.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, and her heart sank. She hadn’t anticipated that. “Oh... right. I guess it’s not... exactly what you needed.”

Viktor's gaze softened, and he gently placed the gear back in her hands. “But don’t worry. It’s still a thoughtful gesture. I can always find a place for it in my collection. Thank you, Y/N. I appreciate the effort.”

Y/N’s face brightened again at his kind words, though she couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. “I wanted to give you something you’d really like.”

Viktor smiled, a quiet warmth in his eyes. “You’ve already given me something much more valuable than a rare part—your care, your attention, your understanding of what I value.”

Her heart fluttered at his words, and she couldn’t help but blush. Maybe she hadn't won him over with the copper gear, but she certainly felt closer to him than before.

Plan 2: Cooking for Viktor

Next, Y/N decided that if she could win Viktor’s heart through his stomach, all would be well. She’d spent hours in the kitchen, poring over recipes that would impress even the most refined taste buds. She wanted everything to be perfect—roasted vegetables, tender cuts of meat, and a dessert that was nothing short of a masterpiece. She’d even gone so far as to make a complex layered cake, decorated with intricate icing designs, just to show how much she cared.

When Viktor arrived at the table, his eyes widened in surprise. “Y/N, this looks... amazing. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“Well,” she grinned, her excitement bubbling over, “I thought it would be a nice change. You’ve been working so hard lately. I wanted to do something special.”

Viktor smiled warmly, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. He took his seat, and she could barely contain her anticipation as he took the first bite of the roasted vegetables. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then set his fork down gently, a slightly puzzled look crossing his face.

“Hmm,” Viktor said, his voice soft but careful, “it’s... very unique.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, and she leaned forward slightly, a twinge of worry rising in her chest. “Isn’t it good?”

Viktor, always the tactful one, seemed to choose his words carefully. “It’s... not bad. But, well... I think there’s a little more salt than I’m used to.” He glanced at the dessert, taking a small bite. “And maybe the cake could use a dash more sugar. It’s a bit... sharp.”

Y/N’s face flushed with embarrassment, and her heart sank a little. She’d put so much effort into getting it right, and yet, Viktor seemed so... polite about it. She bit her lip, not sure what to say.

Viktor caught her eye, his gaze softening. “It’s clear you spent a lot of time on this, and I appreciate it. It’s... the thought that counts. Really.”

Y/N gave a small laugh, though it was tinged with a hint of self-consciousness. “I just wanted to make you something you’d like.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair, his voice warm and reassuring. “I know you did. And that’s what matters. You’ve put your heart into this meal, and that’s more than enough.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart still fluttering despite the minor culinary mishap. “I’m sorry... I really thought I had it right this time.”

Viktor reached across the table and gently placed his hand over hers, his touch warm and comforting. “Y/N, you don’t have to apologize. You never have to try so hard to impress me. I already see how incredible you are, just as you are.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she forgot all about the salt and sugar as his words sank in. She smiled softly, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “You really mean that?”

Viktor nodded, his expression genuine. “I do.”

The meal may not have gone exactly as planned, but in that moment, Y/N realized something important. It wasn’t about the perfect dish or the grand gestures—it was about the thought and care she put into everything. And Viktor saw that, more than anything.

Plan 3: The Compliment Strategy

Y/N decided to simplify things. Maybe all she needed to do was tell Viktor how she felt—straight to the point. She had spent countless nights rehearsing her words, but every time she tried to phrase it perfectly, it always seemed to slip away. Tonight, though, she felt a surge of determination. She had to tell him.

They were working late in the lab, surrounded by the low hum of machines and the occasional clink of metal. Viktor was absorbed in his work, as usual, and Y/N couldn’t help but steal glances at him, feeling the nerves build up in her chest.

She cleared her throat, suddenly aware of how tight her throat had become. "Viktor," she began, her voice quieter than she intended. "I... I really admire you. Your work, your dedication... everything about you. It’s just... it’s amazing."

Viktor paused for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at her, clearly caught off guard. "You’re too kind, Y/N. But I’m just one person among many trying to make a difference. I—"

“No, no, that’s not it," she interrupted, feeling her words tumble out of control. "You’re not just ‘one person.’ You’re incredible. The way you think, the way you care about everything... It’s just... it’s just so... you make me want to be better. You—”

Her words were coming faster now, a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions. She wasn’t making any sense. Her heart raced in her chest as she realized how awkwardly she was stumbling through it. It was all wrong.

She looked down, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, trying to collect herself, but the pressure of the moment was overwhelming.

Viktor’s expression softened, but he was still processing what she said. He reached out, his hand landing gently on her shoulder. "Y/N... You’re already more than enough. You don't have to try so hard."

His words were kind, but it only made her feel more exposed. She felt herself getting lost in the moment, and suddenly, the walls of the lab felt suffocating.

“I... I think I should go,” Y/N said quickly, her voice almost a whisper. "I just... I need a moment."

Before Viktor could say anything else, she quickly stood, excusing herself from the lab, her heart still pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to stay there and make it worse, not when she had just made herself look like a fool.

As she left, she could hear Viktor calling after her, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn back. She needed space to breathe, to gather her thoughts. And hopefully, when she was ready, she would find a way to fix the mess she’d made—though, for now, it was all too much.

Plan 4: The Bold Approach

Frustrated with her failure to properly woo Viktor, Y/N decided to take a bolder approach. No more subtlety. She was going to make her feelings known, loud and clear. So, one afternoon, she cornered him in the lab, hands trembling with nerves.

“Viktor,” she started, “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I just want to say it. I think you’re amazing. I think you’re brilliant. And I like you. More than just a colleague. I—”

Viktor blinked, his face unreadable. Y/N’s words faltered, the anxiety building.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not very good at this—”

Before she could finish, Viktor’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile. He reached out and pulled her into a gentle embrace, cutting off her nervous rambling.

“Y/N,” he murmured softly, “you don’t have to try so hard. I already know.”

Y/N’s heart raced, and she pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. “You do?”

“Of course,” Viktor said, his voice low and steady. “I’ve been watching you. All your little attempts, all the care you put into everything. You’ve always been honest with me, even when you didn’t mean to be.”

Y/N stared at him, utterly speechless for a moment.

“So, what does this mean?” she asked, unsure if she was dreaming.

“It means,” Viktor said, his voice full of tenderness, “I think you’re pretty amazing too.”

And just like that, her plans, however flawed, had worked. Maybe not in the way she’d expected, but perhaps that was for the best.

With a small, happy laugh, Y/N leaned in, her worries forgotten. Viktor’s arm wrapped around her, and for the first time, she felt like the one thing she had truly wanted was already in her grasp.

#Arcane #Arcane fandom #Arcane fluff #reader insert #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n

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