#imagine not having Spotify

[beebopurr]

I was around when ppl were posting fanart of Raph in cute outfits/drawing Raph with princess Peach I just wasn't posting anything yet and I just got reminded of it so,,, Raph in silly outfit. Casey is here too they're team Cherry Bomb

[sassypossumm]

Mafia Boss!Miguel laying it down when he's jealous... [🔞MDNI]

This man definetly lays it down on you in the most primal, passionate of ways.

Mafia Boss!Miguel enjoys doggy, thrives off of it in fact. Especially when he's frustrated...

A jealous Mafia Boss!Miguel will not hesitate to leave whatever social engagement you're at in order to get you home and plow you into the mattress.

Oh, you didn't want to leave? Doesn't matter. Mafia Boss!Miguel just tosses you over his shoulder and carries you out without a second glance at anyone.

Mafia Boss!Miguel has you slammed up against a wall as soon as your penthouse door closes. You don't even make it to the bedroom before he's stripped you naked and fingered you to the edge twice.

But you don't get to cum...only good girls get to cum.

When you grumble in protest, Mafia Boss!Miguel slings you over his shoulder with a hissed comment about that sleazy cabrón he'd caught sliding his hand down your arm.

Mafia Boss!Miguel strides up the stairs and kicks in the bedroom door, sending splinters flying. He tosses you unceremoniously on the bed and begins angrily stripping.

Your pussy clenches at the feral gleam in his eyes, and that telltale prickly heat of desire flushes through your entire body. By the time he's crawling over you, you're rubbing your thighs together in a pitiful attempt to simulate the delicious friction that only came from that beautiful cock brushing against your thigh.

Mafia Boss!Miguel pauses only long enough to press a searing kiss to your lips, teasing your tongue with his, before pulling back and flipping you on all fours.

Mafia Boss!Miguel ignores your broken whine and spreads your thighs apart, denying your pussy any kind of stimulation. He sits up on his knees and spreads your folds slowly, and groans in approval as he watches your pussy grow wetter as it clenches around nothing.

Before you can even take a deep breath, he's pulled your hips back and slid into you in one agonizingly slow motion. You groan in unison. And he pauses long enough to press a kiss to your shoulder before sitting back on his knees and pushing your head into the pillows.

Mafia Boss!Miguel fucks you into the mattress without mercy, riding you like a river, his hips rolling and pivoting like the tides of the ocean.

Grabbing your hips and pulling you back into his thrusts, grunting and moaning, his hair growing damp and clinging to his forehead.

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air as he slaps your ass raw and red, growling and grumbling.

"Who's a good whore?" He breathes hotly in your ear.

"Yeah, you like that?" He grunts, pulling you back to meet his hips roughly, his balls brushing against your overstimulated clit.

"Such a good whore...fuck...my good whore." He groans, folding himself over you, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling your back impossibly close against his chest, molding your bodies together in an erotic bachata of pleasure.

"So tight baby..." He moans, nipping at your neck, groaning at your mewling. "Wanna cum baby?" He smiles at your earnest nod and sucks two of his fingers into his mouth and presses them to your sensitive clit.

"All you had to do was ask."

[yesihaveaobsession]

What Could Go Right

Alastor x female reader

Summary: Alastor visits the sweet and innocent reader, intending to ask for her soul despite his promise not to. When she offers it willingly out of love, Alastor, moved by her sincerity, decides not to take her soul, realizing her love has given him something far more valuable.

A/N- I'M BACKKKKK!! Sorry I was gone for so long I was out of state helping family but anyways ENJOY!

Song inspiration kind of:

Alastor had always found your innocence intriguing, a spark of contrast to the darkness that engulfed the streets of Hell. You were like a pure, delicate flower blooming among a field of thorns. Every time he saw you, he couldn’t help but be drawn to it.

You had been friends for a while, and while it was clear you had feelings for him, his feelings were less obvious. His light-hearted laugh, playful banter, and genuine smile always made your day a bit brighter.

But today was different.

You were relaxing in your cozy house on the outskirts of Pentagram City, humming to yourself as you tidied up. It wasn’t a mess, but it wasn’t perfect either. Everything about you was refreshingly simple, untouched by the harsh realities of Hell.

A knock on the door startled you, causing you to drop the dish you were drying. Your heart skipped a beat as you heard a familiar static sound. You quickly wiped your hands on your apron and opened the door, finding Alastor standing there, his ever-present grin lighting up his face as he looked down at you.

"Alastor!" you exclaimed, surprised. "I didn’t know you were coming!" Before you could warn him about the mess, he stepped inside, his eyes scanning your home with quiet appreciation.

"Ah, don’t worry about it, my dear," he said smoothly, his gaze locking with yours. "I thought I’d drop by for a visit." There was something in his tone you couldn’t quite place. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you nervously glanced around.

"I—I didn’t have time to clean up," you stammered. "If I’d known, I would’ve—" He interrupted with a wave of his hand. "No need. Your home is as charming as you are."

His compliment made your heart flutter. Despite your feelings for him and knowing what he was capable of, there was something magnetic about him that you couldn’t resist. Every time he looked at you, your world seemed to stand still.

But today, there was an edge to his smile, a shadow in his eyes that unsettled you. Alastor approached you slowly, his red eyes still locked onto yours. Your heart raced.

"My dear," he began, his voice silky and low, "there’s something I need to ask of you."

Your heart pounded as you asked, "What is it, Alastor?"

He hesitated, his grin faltering briefly before it returned with full force. "I’ve come to ask for your soul."

The words hung in the air, cold and heavy. You stared at him, shock and betrayal overwhelming you. It felt like the ground had been swept from under you, and you struggled to breathe.

"You promised," you whispered, voice trembling. "You swore you’d never ask." The pain in your voice cut through him. He had always known you had feelings for him, maybe even more than you should, and seeing your smile fade was something he hadn’t anticipated.

"I did," he admitted, his tone softer now, almost regretful. "But your innocence, your purity—it’s intoxicating. I couldn’t stay away, and I couldn’t resist any longer."

Tears welled in your eyes. You had trusted him, and now betrayal and heartbreak swirled within you. "Were you just using me? Was it all just to get my soul?"

Alastor’s smile faltered again, more than ever before. This was the first time he seemed vulnerable. "I never intended to hurt you," he murmured, reaching out as if to comfort you but hesitating, his hand stopping inches away from your cheek. You took a step back, heart aching. "I thought you… I thought maybe…"

He didn’t need to finish. The thought that he had destroyed something so pure and beautiful filled him with an unfamiliar sense of regret. For the first time in a long time, Alastor didn’t know what to do. He was used to getting what he wanted, but now, seeing you like this, he wondered if it was worth it. Your innocence, your love for him—it was real, and in trying to take it, he realized he might have lost something truly good.

"I… I’ll go," he finally said, his voice barely a whisper, turning to leave. But before he could step out, you grabbed his arm. "Wait," you said, your voice shaky. "Please… don’t go. I… I need to think."

He paused, looking back at you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. Maybe, just maybe, all wasn’t lost.

As Alastor stood in the doorway, his usually confident posture now unsure, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "Alastor… why now? Why ask for my soul after all this time?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair—a small, human gesture that made him seem less like the Radio Demon and more like the man he used to be. "Because I’ve grown… fond of you," he admitted slowly. "More fond than I ever expected to be."

His confession shocked you. You had hoped his feelings were deeper, but hearing it made your heart twist with a mix of joy and sorrow. "Then why ask for my soul?" you whispered, tears threatening to spill. "If you care about me, why would you do this?"

Alastor looked down, struggling to find the right words. "Because that’s what I do," he said, his voice hardening slightly. "I’ve taken countless souls, each with a story, with dreams, with lives they’ve built. But yours… yours is different. It’s pure, untainted by the darkness around us. It’s… precious."

He stepped closer, gently cupping your cheek with one hand. "And that’s why I hesitated. That’s why I promised I wouldn’t ask. But the more time I spent with you, the more I found myself wanting… needing it. It’s as if by taking your soul, I could keep a part of you with me, forever."

You trembled under his touch, torn between affection and betrayal. "But you already have me," you said, your voice barely audible. "You didn’t need my soul to keep me close. I liked you, Alastor. I still do… but now I don’t know what to think."

He frowned, guilt creeping into his sharp features. "I never wanted to hurt you," he repeated, his tone laced with regret. "But I can’t change who I am. I’m a demon, and this is what demons do."

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of his words. Alastor was a demon, with all the darkness that entailed. But beneath that, there was something more that had drawn you to him. A connection that you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much it hurt.

After a moment, you opened your eyes and met his gaze, your heart pounding. "Then take it," you said, voice firm despite your fear. "If that’s what you need, take my soul. But know this, Alastor—I gave it to you long before you ever asked. Because I loved you."

The word hung between you, thick and heavy. Alastor’s eyes widened, and for a moment, you saw a flicker of something raw and real. It was a crack in the facade he’d built around himself, revealing the man who had fallen for you despite everything.

Then, just as quickly, his mask slipped back into place. His grin returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "You don’t know what you’re offering, my dear," he said, voice smooth but strained. "Once I take your soul, there’s no going back. You’ll be bound to me in every sense of the word."

You nodded, your decision made. "I know. But I trust you, Alastor. I believe there’s still good in you somewhere beneath all that darkness. And if giving you my soul is what it takes to keep you close, then… then I’m willing to do it."

He stared at you for a long moment, weighing the gravity of your words. Slowly, he pulled his hand away from your cheek, his expression unreadable. "You’re a remarkable woman," he finally said, voice low. "Too good for a place like this… and too good for someone like me."

"I won’t take your soul," he whispered, thick with emotion. "Not now. Not ever. Because I care too much about you to destroy what makes you… you."

Your breath hitched, stunned. "But—"

"No," he interrupted gently. "This is my choice, and it’s final. You’ve given me something far more valuable than your soul. You’ve given me a reason to remember what it feels like to care."

With that, he turned and walked out the door, leaving you in stunned silence. The house felt emptier, the warmth that had filled it now tinged with bittersweet sadness. Tears slipped down your cheeks. Alastor had come for your soul, but in the end, he had left with something far more important—your love.

[scarymonsters-andsupercreeps]

[xxsinisterxx]

[togament]

𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐨 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. 𝐢𝐢 ·˚𓆉 ༘₊·

𑁍ࠬܓ

[thermodynamic-comedian]

jonah magnus is a massive britney spears fan and if martin hadn't distracted him during the unknowing he would've been up in his office, watching everything go down, listening to circus.

[scificrows]

The feed ID doesn’t need to say anything other than what everyone else’s says, just name, gender, and…” She trailed off. She was looking at me and I was looking at her. - Martha Wells, Fugitive Telemetry (The Murderbot art I used is the official cover art from the French edition of ASR)

[deadboyfriendd]

Captain Seeks Mate

This is so stupid. 

At four cents a word, Early Bird had taken Steve Harrington for all he was worth. 

“Captain seeks mate– must be into pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. Mid-to-late 20s, witty and funny. Tall, dark, & handsome. Write to me and escape. Box D183.” 

He couldn’t believe himself, yet, here it was, nestled between Handyman Wanted and 1978 Plymouth Volare. The product of his own desperation, printed in Times New Roman– staring him in the face for this Sunday’s very own Early Bird edition. He wondered where it had all gone wrong, wondered where he went from Steve Harrington, local heartthrob, to an ad in the personal column of the absolute rag sheet that The Early Bird had always been. 

He wanted to blame Scoops Ahoy, those stupid little shorts and sailor hat. He wanted to blame Nancy Wheeler, who made him out to be an absolute idiot– No, he shook his head, you did that to yourself. 

And then he thought about you, golden under the blistering sun of Phoenix, Arizona. Arizona State University wreaked havoc on this life and he left with a minor in possession, 36 C-average credits in Business Administration, and a heart kicked directly in the ass. He wanted to blame you, he wanted to blame his father for sending him there– his own alma mater, he wanted to blame W. P. Carey himself, but even Steve wasn’t stupid enough to try to push this on someone else. 

Stupid, but not that stupid. 

It had been three years, and Steve had found himself settling into the comforts of blissful, beautiful stagnation. His apartment was nice– far nicer than his current job would allow him, thanks, Robin. 

It wasn’t like he frequented this place often. His home was adrift, on board The Lady May. It was an inherent truth that Steve belonged on a boat, preferably in the absence of a shirt– and this job had been the calling of a lifetime. Where Steve had struggled in the areas of statistics and business analytics, he learned the laws of the sea, learned the fishing regulations and how these animals functioned. Now, Steve got to live life as slow as the rolling waves of San Diego would take him. For that, he was thankful. 

“You’re seriously advertising yourself in the paper now?” Robin asked him, her eyes peering over the top of the paper with both wonder and disgust, “Do I dare bring back the board?” 

“What?” Steve asked her, turning around from his barstool. 

“Captain seeks mate, Steven? This has you written all over it.” 

“Why are you even reading the personal column?” 

“Because I like to laugh at them.” She said to him with her brow raised. Her hand came down to gesture at those horrible, ambiguously worded advertisements, “But this? This is just sad.” 

He reached over to her, snatching the paper from her hands. He unfolded his glasses, letting them sit low against his nose, now unabashed by his need for them– his unyielding desire to see outweighing the once debilitating vanity that overtook his ability to simply wear them. Robin never pointed this out, she was just glad to see him doing something for himself for once. But this? There was no way she was letting this die. 

He read the paper with his brow furrowed, feigning confusion and nonchalance. Perhaps he could play this off, but there was nothing he was able to skirt past her. 

“Nope. Not me.” He started, face stone cold. It was an immediate sellout, but Robin was feeling generous today. She would let him have this. 

As he handed her the paper back, she gave him a sideways glance through a raised brow, wondering what had ever prompted him to be this desperate. Maybe he had finally gone crazy, all of those hours on the water finally turning him into a regular Castaway.  

+

This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen. 

Well, second most. The first had been moving to San Diego to cut your teeth on some rag sheet with the promise of being the sole graphic designer. Something new and exciting. You could do new and exciting, you tried to convince yourself of this. You had graduated summa cum laude from one of the top ten design schools in the country– you just didn’t mention that that had been Arizona State and you had also gotten a minor in underage drinking. New and exciting was your game. 

But this? This had been one of the most entertaining things you had ever seen, staring you right in the face. You couldn’t stop the laugh that tumbled from your lips, drawing looks from the editors perched at their beige desks like the world's most modern gargoyles. Had no one else seen this? 

“Captain seeks mate– must be into pina coladas and getting caught in the rain. Mid-to-late 20s, witty and funny. Tall, dark, & handsome. Write to me and escape. Box D183.” 

It had been three years since Steve had disappeared without a trace, your golden boy under the glowing sun of your homeland. He was the greatest gem the Midwest had to offer, a diamond in the rough. Gold-skinned and eager, with a laugh like sunshine and a touch like Midas, gone back home with little to no warning. Your heart had been shattered in the process, manifesting itself in a nose to the grindstone and an early release of a BS in graphic design. The sun stung too much in his absence. You’d needed something frigid. 

Or maybe you’d been frigid enough. 

You rolled your shoulders at your desk, the cramping in your neck signaling the end of the work day and your ticket out of here– your home the promised land of naproxen and that waning bottle of Don Julio 70, a gem you’d grown to love an appreciate with all of your newfound adult money. 

You’d drained the last of your savings on a (most-likely overpriced) two bedroom a block away from the ragged coastlines of La Jolla Cove, where, every morning, you would watch the run rise along the tide pools where you’d tote your lukewarm mug of coconut cold brew, and watch the sun set over a rocky shore. It was a slow life, and you’d liked it that way. 

But tonight, as you watched the boats bob back and forth in the orange glow of the marina, you couldn’t help but to feel a semblance of nagging withing you. 

Captain Seeks Mate. 

It was ridiculous. It was stupid. But maybe something ridiculous and stupid was what you needed. Something with no pressure, something that was fun. Something that wouldn’t shatter your heart into another million pieces when it would disappear. 

So here you were, stupidly folded into a stupid, ridiculous pile at your stupid counter, drafting a big dumb letter on to a piece of paper: 

 Hello tall, dark, and handsome. 

I am writing in response to your ad in the personal columns of The Early Bird from the Sunday, June 27th edition. Three years ago, my heart was broken by another tall, dark, and handsome type. I read that the ocean heals, so I traded my land legs for sea, and now I seek a captain to guide me to smoother waters. 

 I will spare the formalities. I am not into hiking or health food. I live a life of comfort and leisure. I eat when I am hungry and drink when I am thirsty. I like to live my life in good company between work days, and you seem like the company I’d like to keep.

I am particularly fond of getting caught in the rain– when it happens, that is. I hail from the desert southwest, and I thrive on sunshine and sand. I live quietly. I like to read and paint. I keep houseplants. I am nobody’s poet, but I’m into champagne. 

I want to meet you. I want to cut through all of this red tape. 

It is true, I like pina coladas, though I prefer a tequila sunrise at the best of times. The Pisces bar on Mission and El Camino De Playa conveniently has both. Meet me there at tomorrow, noon. 

Sincerely, 

Tequila Sunrise

Box 1751.

[sp4ceqtown]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

No Cuddles? - Pablo Gavi

Gavi hadn't been paying attention to you at all, ever since he came home after practice, he took a shower and immediately started playing on his PS5 with Pedri and Ferran.

You were currently sitting on the bed, scrolling on random apps to cure your boredom. After a few minutes, you decided to go check on Gavi.

Getting up from your bed, down the hall was Gavi's gaming room, you could hear screams coming from the room.

Opening the door, Gavi turned his head, immediately smiling when he saw you standing at the door way.

"Ven aquí, hermosa" (Come here, beautiful) He said, patting his lap. You immediately obeyed, sitting on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

After a few minutes, you started to feel really tired, you put your head on Gavi's neck and fell asleep.

Gavi looked at you to see you sleeping peacefully, your chest rising up and down every time you took a breath.

"Chicos, me tengo que ir, ¡nos vemos mañana!" (Guys, i have to go, see you tomorrow!) Gavi said, speaking into the mic that his headphones had.

"Porque tan temprano hombre" (Why so early, man) Pedri could be heard, clearly annoyed over the fact that Gavi was leaving the game so early.

"Tengo que cuidar a mi bebe" (I got to take care of my baby) Gavi said, confidently but also knowing that Pedri and Ferran where gonna tell the whole team about it.

"Muy bien hombre, ve a divertirte" (Alright man, go have some fun) Ferran said, even tho Gavi couldn't see him, he knew that Ferran was smirking while saying that.

"Adiós!" (Bye!) Gavi said, hoping this conversation was gonna end soon so he could finally leave and cuddle you in your comfortable bed.

"Adios, hermano" (Bye, brother) Pedri and Ferran said. Just as Gavi was about to leave, happy that they finally let him go..

"Usa protección" (Use protection) Ferran screamed at the mic, Gavi laughed at how stupid the boys were being.

Leaving the game, Gavi wrapped your legs around his waist.

Putting you carefully on the bed, Gavi went to change his close into some comfortable pajamas. After he changed, he came in the bed, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tightly.

"Buenas noches, princesa" (Goodnight, princess) Gavi whispered in your ear, giving you a kiss on the forehead before falling asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note :

this turned more into a Gavi x Pedri x Ferran, i promise this is a Gavi x Reader, lol! Please send me some requests, im out of ideas.. not really that happy with it but i hope you guys enjoy it<3

- Megi.

[rainbowpufflez]

“We belong together

Lying here forever

In the cold, cold, cold”

You’ll never believe which gays Bo’s drawing again

Song inspo if anyone wants it (aka uh-oh I gotta add another song to their playlist)

[officialdaydreamer00]

(part 1 here)

you did notice him some time ago.

the cloak clad boy with the prettiest fiery blue hair.

he who watches from behind the trees. never gets close, never interacts.

"do not go near that boy, for he may be bearing ill intents. do you understand, my child?"

"yes, mother..."

mother always told you that, which left you wondering why. the boy didn't try to approach you, when he could have done it long ago. instead, he chose to observe. he responded to your smiles and waves with his own, albeit shy ones.

the more you looked at him, the more your heart felt strange. it was a warm feeling that engulfed you whole, as if you had seen him somewhere before. had you known him from somewhere? anywhere?

but you grew up with only the presence of your mother, exactly what made you feel that way?

peculiar, indeed, and you intended to find it out yourself.

so despite your mother's words, you wandered beyond the borders, the one that your mother put up to, in her words, protect you from the horrors of the outside world. she was protective, that you were always grateful for, but it soon felt rather overbearing.

it had been quite a while since you last ventured out of your home. mother used to bring you along to places. something happened, however, and she never let you leave the house ever since. you understood, of course, but the growing want to explore pushed that thought away. so the moment your mother left the house, you left too.

there he was again, at his usual spot and gazed over the little place you called home.

he looked confused, his pretty golden eyes darted around, seemingly searching for something, or rather, you. you decided to approach the boy, and with every steps you made, that feeling came back as stronger than ever.

the boy soon turned to you. he flinched back in panic(?), before slowly calming down when he saw it was you. that was when you noticed some things about him.

he was tall, towering over your form, yet he didn't give off a threatening aura. pale white skin, ghostly even, all hidden under a black cloak. the fiery blue hair that you saw was, indeed, fire, strange how it didn't burn you. and his eyes, a molten gold so eerie yet so soft as he stared at you with an expression difficult to read. melancholic? wistful? you couldn't tell which.

his hands held yours so gently, and they fit so perfectly together. he called you 'his queen', you didn't understand why, but something in your heart stirred. as if a force took hold of your soul, you responded.

"We have met again, my King."

taglist🏷️ @azulashengrottospiano @aqua-beam @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb @twistwonderlanddevotee @siren-serenity @hisui-dreamer @xen-blank @taruruchi @cheezy-moon @minimallyminnie @axvwriter @mermaidfanficlibrary @cookiesandbiscuits @eynnwwyjth @cave-of-jade @bun-lapin @krenenbaker @thehollowwriter @red-viewe @jaylleoo14 @edith-is-apparently-a-cat

reblogs are very appreciated!!

[ranaissingle]

Right Here

Masterlist

Summary: The reader and Austin spend a day at home when the Oscar nominations come out and the reader comforts an insecure Austin the day before. Rating: T (it is straight fluff and I eat that shit up) Pairings: Austin x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1.8k A/N: I haven't posted in like a week bc I couldn't find inspiration but I need more soft Austin content to think about so this is what you guys get instead of Coffee or Tea Pt. 5 lol (Which is the last part by the way and I am currently suffering from writer's block so I'm doing this to distract myself. ) Reader has almost no body descriptors like race, body parts, weight, etc.

⚛》》»»»◈«««《《⚛⚛》》»»»◈«««《《⚛⚛》》»»»◈««

Austin had been counting the days until the Oscar nominations and had run himself ragged in the process. He googled when they would be released at least 4 times a day and consulted his manager about the likelihood of his nomination in the time between. As much as Austin tried to convince himself he didn't care, he hadn't fooled anyone; not even himself.

You were content to watch him at first and assumed it was a natural part of being an actor; you weren't sure what you could do to ease his stress, to begin with. But after the dreaded day drew nearer, Austin's anxiety had shot through the roof and multiplied tenfold. You couldn't bare to watch him wallow in his own misery or stress himself out any longer. So the afternoon before the Oscar nominations were to come out and Austin's anxiety was at an all-time high, you would make your move.

You had planned a delicious at-home dinner followed by a movie and a relaxing day in bed. You had prepared a delicious bolognese sauce with mini bowtie pasta (Austin's favorite) accompanied by a tasty fruit cake for dessert.

You had really outdone yourself.

Austin was due to come back from the day's interview at 6:45 which was perfect for dinner at 7.

You had just finished lighting the dinner candles and switching off the lights when Austin tumbled into the door looking worn out and stressed to high heaven.

You walked up to the door to take his coat and kiss his cheek.

"Welcome home love, how was work?" This had become a routine; Austin would tumble in, you would take his coat, kiss his cheek, and then ask how his day was. That routine was one of Austin's few consistencies in his hectic life and he looked forward to your soft smile and breathy voice during his entire commute home.

"It was alright darlin' how was yours?", he placed his hand on your waist and drew you closer.Just as Austin finished his question to you, it seemed he noticed the lack of fluorescent lighting in the apartment.

"What's up with all the lights not being o-" He set his eyes on the dinner table set with the best dishware and china, the long thin candles lit in the middle, and the unopened bottle of red wine occupying the end of the table.

"You've been so stressed lately and it's taking a toll on your health," you reached up to place your hand on his cheek and swiped your thumb over the discolored skin under his eyes.

"I'm worried about you is all, so I made us dinner and I have a movie qued for us to watch after." Austin gradually wrapped his arms tighter and tighter as you spoke. Eventually, his head landed in your neck and you felt his breaths tickling your clavicle.

"Thank ya darlin' I love ya so much, ya know that?" His voice was ragged. Austin loved being taken care of, but he wouldn't tell anyone that and you loved taking care of him. It was a win-win situation.

You pulled your face away from him to grasp his hands in yours and lead him to the table.

"Darlin this smells delicious, did ya make pasta?"

"Just how you like it, my love." Austin's smile was breathtaking and he looked more alive in that moment than he had in the 2 weeks before.

Austin pulled out your chair before walking around to the table to pull out his own. He tried the pasta and all but moaned in approval.

"Darlin' this is amazing! I swear you cook this better each time." You were glad the hours spent over the stove reducing the sauce with spices and herbs had the desired effect.

"I'm glad you like it Austin! I called up my mom to get some better tips for making a meat sauce. I'm glad the work paid off." You giggled as Austin continued to shovel spoon after spoon of the delicious pasta into his mouth.

Dinner went by pleasantly with both of you conversing about whatever came to mind. Both your legs were intertwined under the table and Austin fidgeted with your hand where it rested on the table.

You both made it through the main course accompanied by the wine and when it came time for dessert, Austin decided he wanted to spoon-feed you the fruit cake as a 'thank you' for all the hard work you had put in to prepare a delicious meal for him.

Austin had been drained and tired for what felt like an eternity but it seems an afternoon with you and a home-cooked meal was all he needed to recover.

Austin had asked you three times to let him help you with the dishes but you had profusely refused and all but shoved him into your bedroom as you told him to relax and kissed his forehead.

"I can take care of the dishes myself and I'll just be putting them in the dishwasher anyway." You waved your hand to emphasize how light the work would be.

Austin frowned but eventually let out an "Alright darling whatever you say." accompanied by a heavy sigh and a 'thank you' kiss on your temple.

You did the dishes in record time because you wanted to spend some time with Austin before his eventual crash. He wasn't going to last through the whole movie as was evident by his eye bags and already drooping eyelids.

You crossed the living room and opened the door to your shared bedroom. Austin had changed into his pajamas and was tucked under the covers while he read one of his mystery novels.

"Hey, baby," you spoke as you entered the room and Austin perked up, "I was thinking, we can still watch the movie if you want but you're looking a little tired and I don't want to keep you up, especially when you need all the rest you can get. So, what do you choose?"

"Could we just cuddle and go to sleep? I am feelin' pretty tired." He tilted his head in the most endearing way as he asked and you were happy to satisfy his request.

You crawled into the bed and opened the blanket and your arms to invite Austin into a hug. His smile was breathtaking as he practically threw his book onto the nightstand and shimmied under the sheets to get closer to you.

His head found purchase in your neck yet again and his arms wrapped around you to hold your hips in his embrace. You settled one hand on his back to rub circled on his spine while the other raked its way through his soft locks. You knelt your head down to whisper how proud you were of him, how much you loved him, and how he had nothing to worry about because he was guaranteed an oscar nomination tomorrow. He kissed your necks over and over as you spoke and only buried himself further into your form when you finished speaking.

The dim street lights reflecting into the room and the lavender diffuser you had on at all times calmed Austin. He eventually relaxed in your embrace and spoke a mumbled "I love you" before finally nodding off.

"I love you more."

≫ ──── ««•◦ ✪ ◦•»» ──── ≪

The sunlight streamed in through the half-drawn curtains and illuminated the room with a soft and warm light. The both of you were still fast asleep in the position you had slept in the night before; although Austin seemed to be nestled impossibly closer to you. He had fallen asleep in record time and had not woken up in a cold sweat once during the entire night. His dreams were filled with mundane days spent at home and your smile took center stage in his every thought.

Alas, although you and Austin had both forgotten what day today was, his manager had not been so lucky. The Oscar nominations had been released in the early morning and you both had slept ever soundly through it. Taylor, Austin's manager, had been awake at the crack of dawn refreshing her inbox and the official oscar website. As soon as the nominations dropped, she picked up her cell to call Austin. It took her 4 attempts before your sleep-ridden voice made its way into her receiver.

You picked the phone up to your ear and mumbled a broken

"Hello?"

" OH MY GOD THANK GOODNESS SOMEONE ANSWERED. AUSTIN GOT THE NOMINATION!" Her voice blared into your ear making you wince and pull the phone away from your face.

"What??? Are you serious Taylor??!!" You tried to keep your voice soft so as to not wake Austin before you confirmed the news.

"YES, THE NOMINATIONS WERE RELEASED A FEW MINUTES AGO!"

"Okay, I'll tell Austin! He is still asleep so I'll have to wake him up." Said man was still tucked into your neck but had begun to stir.

"Pleeeeeease do, he has been waiting for this nomination for so long and you and I both know he deserves it."

"I know Taylor, thank you for calling so many times it would have been a shame if we missed this."

After ending the phone call, you put the phone down and wrapped your arms back around Austin while leaning your mouth into his ear and running your hand down his back.

"Austin baby, you have to wake up love. We can't sleep in any longer." Austin stirred but did not fully wake up. You stroked his back again before using your words to coax him up into the world of the awake.

Austin's facelifted slowly out of your neck to turn to where the light was streaming into the room and he placed his head over your heart while he slowly woke up.

"Austin, Taylor just called." You felt him tense his arms around you as he braced himself for the bad news. You just wrapped your arms tighter around him and whispered, so softly he barely heard you at all

"You did it, my love, you got nominated for best actor by the Oscars. Out of so many actors, they chose you! I'm so proud of you Austin, you worked so hard and you did it, baby. You did it, my love."

Austin's choked sobs were palpable in the room.

"I did it? A-are you serious? I actually got nominated?" He had picked his head up from your chest and sat up to look at you.

Taking his face in between both your hands you gazed into his eyes.

"Yes, you did Austin. Believe it and live it because you deserve it. All your hard work has paid off and I will always be right here for you, for as long as you'll have me."

Austin's teary eyes and blissful smile made your heart flutter in a way you never knew was possible.

Never in your life had you loved someone like you loved Austin.

⚛》》»»»◈«««《《⚛⚛》》»»»◈«««《《⚛⚛》》»»»◈««

This got very sappy very fast but I can't say that I'm mad at it. I also think that Austin probably needs a lot of assurance right now just like the rest of us. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[yesihaveaobsession]

I Hate You

Alastor x ex wife ! reader

Summary: We all know what Alastor did when he was alive and one time he cheated on you, well you meet your ex-husband in Hell.

Warning: mention of Al killing and cheating and language.

A/N- I know he's ace but shush, THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE

You and he were married back on Earth. He would often leave in the middle of the night, citing work. You believed him. However, one night, you discovered that your daring husband had cheated on you with a girl from a jazz club. This was the same daring husband who had assured you on your wedding night that he would never cheat.

Now, here you were in hell, and you saw him. Your instincts urged you to walk the other way, and that's what you did. Alastor saw you and followed. You found yourself speed walking. His tall legs made it easier for him to catch up, and he grabbed your wrist, his large claw covering your delicate hand.

"Let me go," you said, fighting him slightly. But he didn't. The deer demon pulled you and turned you towards him. Your ex-husband still loomed over you as you looked up into his red eyes. He leaned down until your faces were close.

"You lied," you whispered. Alastor just looked at you. "You said on our wedding night that you would never cheat on me, and on top of that, you lied to me about where you went every night." He remained silent.

"Asshole," you said, hurt evident. You managed to turn away and escape from his grasp, walking away again.

"Wait..."

"Fuck you," you said, not even stopping to look at him. You had thought he was the man of your dreams. After all, you two were high school sweethearts, and this is how he treated you?

"Just hear me out," he said, still with his radio filter and a smile he didn't want right now. He wanted to frown, but he couldn't. "I married a serial killer." You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him. Those words stabbed him right in the chest; they stung.

"I can't change the past," he sighed. You shook your head. "And you cheated on me," your voice filled with venom and hurt.

"If I could go back, I would," he said. Did he regret all the things he did? You didn't believe him and kept walking. Alastor grabbed your arm again.

"Alastor, I swear to—" you began, but he cut you off, pulling you closer. You looked at him, and he leaned in closer until your faces were just inches apart.

"I hate you," you said, breaking the silence.

"I know," is all the deer demon said. Your eyes searched his, and you saw something, maybe nobody else could, but you could.

"Were you planning on hurting me when we were alive?" you inquired. He stayed silent, which stabbed you in the back. "Al?" you said.

"Yes, dear?"

"You were?"

He hesitated, but eventually nodded.

"You would hurt your dear wife?" you choked, stepping backward, but he only took another step toward you, causing you to crane your head back to look at him.

"I was going to," he said with a sigh.

"Why? What did I do?" Tears welled in your eyes. He knew he broke you.

"No," he tried to wipe your tears. "I was the problem," he said.

"I tried to help you."

"You did, and I love you for it, but I never deserved you," he said, trying to lift your chin. You looked into his red eyes, then at his lips. Alastor found himself leaning in closer, placing his claws firmly on your hips. You paused.

"Are you still killing people?" you asked.

The Radio Demon nodded. "For a good cause."

"How so?" you asked, genuinely confused.

"Rehabilitation."

"You're helping Charlie?"

Alastor nodded, and you found yourself backed up and pinned against the side of a building. He leaned in so your bodies were touching. You looked at his lips. Alastor leaned in and placed his lips on yours, and you kissed back.

He looked into your eyes. "Please, just one more moment with me."

"What do you mean, Al?"

"Just one more kiss, then I'll let you go," he said, his breath fanning against your face.

"No, I don't want you to let me go," you whispered.

"You're mine, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Good." He pulled you closer, and you two kissed again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SONG I WAS LISTENING TO:

[lewkwoodnco]

Be More - George x Reader

"Er...I think this dough's ready to be cut into the strips."

"Yes, chef."

He coughed awkwardly, too uncomfortable to come up with any decent sort of response.

a/n: am soooo salty i fell sick in the middle of my 12 days of fics '23 for xmas last year :((( so im giving myself a lil treat by doing a short series of valentine's fics! i SO don't know how souffles work if you can't tell so pls don't come for me, and a special special thanks to lisa @neewtmas for the apron idea heheh. all fluff, which is why I got all my angst fics out of the way beforehand if you'd like a lil palate cleanser :) also totally didn't make this a songfic cuz i was struggling to find a title :} btw I headcannon that george randomly zones in and out in everyday life and this has nothing to do with how much I may or may not do this myself ALSO was strongly influenced to post this earlier by the multiverse of George aka @oblivious-idiot @bella-rose29@bobbys-not-that-small heh

warnings/tropes: lockwood and george bromance supremacy!!! baking, lots and lots of valentine's day fluff, awkward georgeeeee

word count: 2.8k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

Lucy handed George a steaming cup of tea, which he gratefully accepted. The three of them were having breakfast as usual, and with the last strains of winter fading, Portland Row's kitchen was entirely too bright. He closed his eyes, pretending he didn't see the way Lockwood's hand lingered on Lucy's when taking his mug. They were bad enough on any normal day, but even worse nowadays, with Valentine's Day drawing achingly closer. He felt himself begin to nod off again from the gentle and comforting steam.

He felt a mild rap against his cheek, which he turned to see is from a well-aimed sugar cube launched from across the table by Lucy. He looked up to see her staring hard at him and Lockwood poorly concealing a snigger with his cup of tea.

"George. Have you or have you not got any plans for Valentine's?"

He takes his time wiping his glasses on his shirt sleeve before responding. "Nothing much. Though I've promised Y/N I'd spend the day with her."

He watched Lucy's expression carefully, and she seemed to be watching his. Truth was, with Valentine's drawing closer and closer, George was going into a mild panic. He hadn't exactly arranged it intentionally. They had been having a quiet chat on a morning when George had been too tired from the previous night's case to strictly follow, and suddenly she was waving goodbye, promising to see him next on Valentine's Day.

He had no idea what kind of a Valentine's Day he had agreed to, or how much of a filter he had had, and he had been dropping Lucy desperate cries for help, with decreasing subtlety. Was it a date? Was she expecting a date? Sure, they had went to that play together after Lucy fell mysteriously ill, and maybe they met up for lunch once a week. But she never referred to

His eyes slowly drifted close as Lucy and Lockwood's conversation morphed into gentle white noise, enjoying the warmth of the little sun streaming through their kitchen window. It felt nice to have a little break from his intense week of baking -

Baking! George snapped wide awake, clumsily climbing out of his chair and feverishly counting the stacks of meticulously wrapped, frilly pastry goodie bags lining the kitchen counter. It had become an annual Valentine's Day tradition for George to construct these small goodie bags of baked goods for a sizeable chunk of his extended family. He even roped in Lucy and Lockwood, and as Valentine's Day approached they'd all gather around the kitchen table at night, even if it was after a case, packing the delicaices George had spent the day baking, until one of them started dropping off.

It was tedious work, but they enjoyed it and were well invested in it - Lockwood fiercely so. When a cousin had remarked that perhaps the tradition was becoming a little tired at a family gathering last Christmas, Lockwood had accidentally-but-not-really smacked his head. George relaxed as he neared towards the end of the pile - just one more day of baking, and he'd be ready to send them off.

Lucy and Lockwood were mostly finished with breakfast anyway, so he chased them out of the kitchen and got to work. Once George had his first batch of cookies in the oven, he started planning for the supplementary baked goods. For instance, he was going to make a chocolate souffle for the three of them to share over a midnight supper tomorrow.

So when the kitchen door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air, George spun around scathingly, ready to threaten Lockwood with deflated souffles. But the hiss at the tip of his tongue withered when he saw who it was.

"...Y/N?"

"Hello. Baking, are you?"

George suppressed the urge to shield the vast volumes of confectionary goodie bags littering the kitchen's surfaces.

"...yes." With some difficulty, he slowly resumed his movements, explaining how this was something he did every year. In a way, he was grateful to have something to do with his hands, because the last minute or so reminded him that he had no idea what he normally did with his hands while standing.

"Oh. Need any help?"

It took George another half-minute to process her question. "With what?"

"With the baking, obviously."

"Uh...s'alright, I've got it all handled."

"No, please, I'd love to help."

George paused mid-stir, looking comically perplexed with a smidge of flour on his nose. "What for?" He bit his tongue, hastily back-pedalling since his tone sounded aggressively suspicious. "What I mean is, you wouldn't want to spend your day here, sweating like a pig - not that you sweat, and definitely not like a pig, no - I'm the one sweating like a pig..."

What he wanted to say was, their oven was ancient and so made the kitchen stupid hot every time he baked, but failed miserably. He set down his mixing bowl in defeat. Almost instantly, she stifled a giggle, trying to pass it off as clearing her throat, and George followed her gaze to his apron in horror. What the mixing bowl had previously been hiding was the horrendously cheesy 'kiss the cook' graphic on his apron.

It had been a ridiculous gag gift from Lucy, one that he had never intended to use but was forced to after his last apron caught on fire from one of his experiments with the skull. Bursting into flames would have been more useful now, He stood there, eyes watering from the heat, determined in his refusal to acknowledge both the apron and the smile she was doing a poor job of suppressing.

"Fine. You can start with the cookie batter."

About a minute or two later, it occurred to George that perhaps it would have wise to ask how much experience she had with baking. Not a lot, he soon discovered, when her bowl nearly flew off as soon as she switched on the egg beater. He dropped his mixing bowl instantly, waving away her apologies.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't expect it to be so powerful."

He cautiously adjusted her grip on the bowl, gently guiding her fingers to a better hold.

"No, no, it's my fault. Not much of a baker?"

"...no."

"Okay, so what you do is, use one hand to hold the - other hand - hold the bowl, and the other holds the egg beater like - no, not quite."

He took a step closer, placing his hands over hers, trying to ignore the warmth radiating from her body, and the smell of her shampoo.

The last time they had been this close was on their way home from that play. With Lockwood out of town for a client meeting, and Lucy developing a mysterious case of the flu, it was only the two of them crouched under a tiny umbrella as they walked home after the play. George would have been more than happy to walk in the rain, but she was the one holding the umbrella, and was firm in her resolve to not send him back to Lucy with a head cold. With the little space between them, their cheeks brushed against each other occasionally, sending a jolt running through the side of George's face.

"Well...this is me."

George nodded dumbly, staring hard at the chips in her front door's paint, agonisingly aware of her looking at his face. He didn't dare turn to meet her gaze; they were far too close.

"I had fun today, George."

He sighed and briefly zonesout. As short as their chat was, he remembered very little, his focus only returning when she pulled her key out.

"We should do this again sometime," she was saying, as she turned the key in her lock. When he finally looked at her, there were the tinies raindrops on her eyelashes. There was something so pure and unassuming about the sight that it tugged at his heart. It made him want...more. More with her. With a brief smile, she disappeared into her home, leaving him standing alone in the rain. He stood there for a minute, prolonging the moment for some unidentifiable reason. It was a nice door. She had a nice smile.

It was as though she had read his thoughts from his eyes, for a faintly embarrassed air hung in the kitchen after that. For the next better part of an hour, they engaged in this delicate dance as they floated through the kitchen, carefully staying out of each other's way, never in the same area for long. It wasn't until she was sifting the dry ingredients that they next spoke.

"Hang on, that might be too much flou-"

As George touched her elbow, her hand jerked, sending a sizeable chunk of flour into her mixing bowl, along with a cloud of it directly in her face. He was sorry, of course, but as she spluttered and tried to blink through it, he couldn't stop the amused twist to his features. When she caught his eye, she rolled her eyes and sent a fistful of flour into his eyes. Now it was her turn to laugh as George groaned through the smarting.

"You're right, Mr. Cook, it IS hilarious!"

George scoffed, struggling to maintain his sanctimonius, above-petty-acts front as he wiped his glasses clean with as much dignity as he could muster. But on the inside, his defences were crumbling fast.

"You're acting like a child."

She looked mildly apologetic for a moment, and George felt a flash of truimph, before she raised both her flour-coated hands and resolutely streaked them across George's face.

"Egg on your face. Or should I say, flour?"

With that, all pretenses of civility were thrown out the window. The both of them swept up as many ingredients as they could and migrated to opposite ends of the kitchen table, pelting each other with everything that could be pelted. George landed a few well-aimed chocolate chips into her hair. She soaked the front of his apron with half a jug of milk, which was nearly enough to send him into hysterics. So it went on and on and on, until they ran out of supplies in their immediate reach, before resorting to shoving each other's faces into bags and tins of baking soda and powdered sugar. This, it occurred to George as he was rubbing cornstarch into her red, wheezing face, is strangely intimate.

Again, there was this tugging sensation in his chest, the kind that made him want to sit in his armchair for anywhere from half a minute to half an hour. The kind of sensation that could not be held in words. The closest he could get was the wish for a never-ending summer, or perhaps orchards full of cherry trees as sweet as the first pick. But even that fell short.

Just as she raised two fistfuls of sprinkles, the kitchen door swung open. Lockwood wandered in, looking sharp as ever in his too-small suit. The two of them smoothly parted, their faces burning under the flour, and George suddenly became very interested in the pastry dough he was kneading. He felt rather than saw Lockwood looking back and forth between the two of them, wishing that he'd just take whatever he needed from the kitchen and got out. But of course, he knew better than to engage in wishful thinking, especially with Lockwood's mildly gormless smile plain as day. "Hang on. George, you do realise that-"

Whatever it was that Lockwood was wondering if he had realised was cut off by the jam tart George shoved into his mouth, because the answer was probably yes, Lockwood, of course I realised that completely inane observation.

"Out. Out. I won't have you compromising the integrity of my kitchen." With a little difficulty, George wheeled a spluttering Lockwood littering soft pastry flakes all over his clean kitchen floor out into the hallway. He shut the door firmly and turned back apologetically, only just seeing the flour in her hair as she watched on amusedly.

"I sure hope I'm not starting up a ruckus - or was it compromising the integrity? - of your kitchen."

George felt his cheeks warming as he returned to the kitchen table. "No, of course not. You never know where Lockwood's been, is all. You're different."

Had he been standing this close to her the whole day, he wondered, close enough to see the pretty flakes in her eyes, softer than any pastry he could make? How was he supposed to look away? And how did he stand it?

"Er...I think this dough's ready to be cut into the strips."

"Yes, chef."

He coughed awkwardly, too uncomfortable to come up with any decent sort of response, embarrassedly muttering something along the lines of how there was no need for any of that. As she got absorbed into getting the strips of dough just right, George glanced at the kitchen door, to see Lockwood silently making exaggerated kissy faces at him. George picked up his rolling pin and Lockwood fled immediately, without so much as a creak from the floorboards.

Now, they finally returned to their baking with proper focus, now that they were all tired out. She seemed to have picked up some skills pretty quickly, though he still kept an eye out in case she might do something that would, say, set her hand on fire.

An hour or so later, the phone started ringing obnoxiously in the hallway. With some difficulty, George peeled off one of his disposable gloves on his way to it. When he picked up the phone, he almost wished he hadn't, because it was that same cousin from last Christmas' gathering. As his voice wore on and on, George started wishing he had let Lockwood give him another punch or two, just to set him straight.

Suddenly, he picked out a few startling words from his cousin's nasally voice, which made his heart plummet, as the calendar in the hallway came into startling focus. He wandered back to the kitchen door, numbly hearing his cousin's complaints of why no one's goodie bags had reached yet. He blankly stared at her, and she stared back confused, slowing down her cutting of the strips concernedly. After a second or two, he hung up the phone, but was in too much shock to lower it.

"Today's date," he whispered.

"Hm?"

"Today's date. It's not the 13th. I thought it was the 13th. Today is the 14th. Valentine's day was today, not tomorrow."

Even as he was saying those words, the calm look on her face told him exactly what he had feared - that she had known all along.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I thought this was what you wanted to do!"

"Unpaid labour."

"What?"

"You spent your Valentine's Day doing exhausting, difficult, unpaid labour." He clumsily placed the phone down on the kitchen counter, struggling to find the right words as he fought against the embarrassment. "I am so sorr- just a minute, I might have some loose change somewhere here-"

"Don't." George was spiraling with shame, kicking himself for his oversight, and she still had the gall to look that pretty and kind. "I didn't mind any of it one bit, I promise."

"I promised you something fun."

"George, this is the most fun I've ever had baking, and I've been making pineapple upside down cakes since before I could - oh."

She broke off when she finally looked up to see the growing shock on George's face. She nibbled at the inside of her cheek nervously, trying to gauge his reaction.

"So you do know how to bake."

"Only a little?"

He took in the sight of her apologetic smile, the careful dusting of flour on her face and her suspiciously clean clothes. "You could have said."

"Oh, but I was having so much fun." George rolled his eyes. "I spent the day learning how to construct the most adorable pastry goodie bags I have ever seen, and I did it all with my boyfriend. Believe me, it doesn't get more fun than this."

Not for the first time that day, George stared at her in wonder, like he couldn't quite figure out how she was real. Even now, when all she was doing was merely existing, words failed him. He had a feeling he'd spend lifetimes chasing shadows, trying to pin what was gone before it bloomed, and he still wouldn't be able to find the right words. There was no other way to put it, or colour it - he wished they were more.

He hesitantly extended his hand, brushing just a speck of the huge handprint of flour on her face with his thumb. He turned, walking out into the hallway, but then just as immediately wheeled back.

"Your WHAT?"

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

[ticklm]

Rock On!

also some songs I was religiously listening to while drawing them