#perfectly incandescently

[hello-eeveev]

I have no evidence to support this, but I like to imagine that when Orym randomly pulls out a rock at breakfast and says, “Mr. Widogast?” there’s a least part of Essek that’s like—

“hehe, that’s me :)”

[daddy-long-legssss]

Suck It and See

"That is something that I started writing when we were recording those Submarine tracks. It just sort of came to me that melody and chorus, it’s quite Beach Boys-y which is something I’ve been listening to a lot recently, and always have. We decided to make it the title track quite near the end – once the pedals thing didn’t really come off. When we played it to someone earlier they were asking us about the fizzy drink reference in that where it says “dandelion and burdock” – a lot of people don’t get that and don’t realise what it is. Something I like the idea of is putting colloquialisms where they feel strange – especially in some of the other tunes like the fuzzy, heavier ones, it feels quite funny when you can drop in something very British next to ‘Raw Power’ guitars."

[x]

[oceanspray5]

Perfectly Incadescently Happy - Chapter 12: After: When He Was Vulnerable

Dearest Gentlereader, The subject that has set the ton abuzz and everyone bereft of answers may soon be coming to its conclusion yet. Naturally, I would hate to have to print any retraction however, it seems this writer, too, may have to reconsider concerning one of the more astonishing matches this season: the one between Viscount Anthony Lockwood and Ms Lucy Carlyle. But did our handsome Lord Lockwood finally open his eyes to exactly all he had to lose at the Finchley Ball? Certainly, there can be no other reason for his interference with one of Ms Francesca Bridgerton's potential suitors. Paired with his early calling at Viscount Bridgerton's house two days after and ecstatic exit, perhaps wedding bells may be in Lord Lockwood's future after all... just not with the surely broken-hearted Ms Carlyle. After the death of her best friend, Ms Lucy Carlyle is given the opportunity to be sponsored for the 1815 London season by Norrie's aunt. Instantly compared to the Diamond due to their astonishingly similar looks, she befriends Lord Lockwood quite unexpectedly yet is left wondering if she was a fool for believing he'd look twice at a mere country girl. Lockwood panics... and then finally proposes an important question.

Ao3

Hi... Lol. Sorry for the delay in this chapter guys. So many reasons for that unfortunately but the chapter you've all been waiting for is here! Please do comment if you enjoy it.

[unabashedqueenfury]

Reign 2013-2017/04-16

Mary and Francis

[itismissswann]

Marry James Norrington already!!!!!!

aren't we already?

[xanothersideblogx]

iso someone to recite the closing scene of pride and prejudice (2005) with

[gaiah]

“You may only call me Mrs. Dekarios when you are completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy”

—

Reference from Pride & Prejudice (2005)

[anantaru]

albedo with a breeding kink?

cw. breeding kink, you guys are kinda reckless, implications of wanting to get you pregnant!!!!!, fem! reader

a/n. albedo + breeding is so canon, like there's no way it isn't

albedo knows of the risks of deciding against using a condom tonight, and if anything, he was aware of it more than anybody else— although you said it's alright, only for this one time, ultimately you sought after feeling him inside of you as well, raw and pressed up deep against your most dearest places.

the possible consequences? well, certainly they could be dealt with after.

what's more to it, such prospect of naivety was quite audacious, yes, perhaps, but albedo had always inspired you to try out reckless things— because believe it or not but he was a fan of trying out new kinks in the bedroom, maybe for research purposes or simple curiosity.

for all you know, it could also be his way of figuring out the notions he found to be delicious.

now, one of his hands was clenched at the side of your thigh to keep you steadied while the other was wrapped around himself, slowly pumping his length to the bare sight of you as his cock stayed perfectly settled against your sopping folds, sticking and messing up your core with his pre.

you admire his chest, how it seems like he was just perfect, no flaws, barely dusted with sweat, at any rate that little glow on his skin made him even more beautiful.

his abs too, incandescent without blemish, sculpted with lean muscle.

albedo slowly taps the head of his cock against your hole and smiles when he notices how your slick was immediately covering him. as though sensing his stare, your hips shuffle up to play with him, in fact, giving your boyfriend a clear indicator that you've waited for him long enough turned him on even more.

to be able to jam you with his cum tonight sent even more blood rushing down to his dick until he hisses at the slight throbs his shaft would set free, until of course, he decided it was time for his cock to bury its inches inside of your melting walls.

his hips start to go fast immediately— each thrust multiplying its rhythm to the point where you could feel his warm ruts pervade your skin. it's almost cruel, as were his eyes so heated and hungry, pupils blown as his gaze slips up and down the connection of your joined bodies.

what had first started out as a foreplay session with no rush and taking ones time, now gradually developed into something much more delicious.

albedo wasn't drawing your pleasure out anymore nor did he want to keep you waiting any longer either, he stopped the teasing too— although he would still squeeze and pinch your erect nipples to keep them all nicely for him.

no taunting anymore, no tapping his cock-head against your folds or fucking you with his tip to watch your sweet reactions set the room on fire, because you see, albedo was seeking his own pleasure in this moment— said pleasure not being the climax himself, but the lewd sight of you taking him and that need to splatter his cum all over your sore walls until your legs were beginning to shake around his hips.

your lips part and you moan lowly as he pushes his chest against your own, the precious sounds slipping from your mouth breaking into rough parts as your walls wrap around him ever do tight, leaving the man breathless and hot inside.

instead of rolling into each movement, albedo decides on a different approach and rocks his hips back and forth your pussy, switching between as fast as he could go while then going slower again, forcing you to feel the way his cock presses up against the sweet spot inside of you, fast and slow fast and slow, taking only slight adjustment on his tempo as to make you feel the pressure all the way across your lower area, the feeling that he knew made your eyes roll back into your head.

that's what it was in the end, the pleasure that sent you aflame, too much for too little of time, making you want more as you both come undone, you two at the same time.

albedo's hips buck needily as they stutter through each thrust when you throb and clench down on him, cumming strongly all around his shaft until he could feel a filthy ring of whiteness cover his dripping erection.

a needy, god-awful whimper escapes his throat as he moans luxuriously into your neck when he feels his cum rush to all the right places, the tight entanglement of your walls pressing tight against his shaft spiking electric bolds through his nerves.

although his hips won't stop moving yet.

much to his surprise, your cunt still took him impossibly deep, so tight and wet and unable to slide himself out. yet you're utterly spent that you had to rely on him holding your legs up. even so, you didn't want to lose the connection yet and neither was your boyfriend as he decided to keep himself stored in you.

sure enough, albedo wanted to stay like this for a while, or even longer, because he knew if he was to pull out now, all of his hard work would come to waste and you'd be empty of him much faster than he could even process.

otherwise than that, he really hoped it had worked tonight, there's no way that it wouldn't have, right? after all, his precise calculations always seems to be right.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[loveaurdeepression]

Melody

small sylus fic for the lads fandom heheheh my first ever! non!mc reader because I love the concept and pain hehe. la

Warnings: Fluffity fluff

There is this song you sing sometimes. He hears in when you're stirring dinner on the stove when he's next to you, and when you're clipping your toenails, the clack-clack of the instrument is drowned out by your crooning.

It's in a language he can't understand, so he has absolutely no idea what you're singing.

But it's so endearing and sweet; the way your head shakes, and the smile on your face as you sing and hum.

He can't help but stop in his tracks whenever the familiar syllables and melody reach his ears. A hint of an adoring smile on his lips as he leans against the nearest doorway and admires your form.

He hears it now, once again. You'd spent the day with the hunter from Linkon City, and no sooner than two minutes inside the sprawling manor, you'd started singing.

Alternating between humming and voicing the words, he hears your form come closer and closer to the kitchen; where he's currently making dinner.

"Hi Sy," you pause for a moment, putting your bag on the counter, "What's up?" you stalk closer to him and smooth your hands down his back.

He turns around, offering you a taste of the food he's making, curry on the tip of his thumb, "Try it."

With a smile, you take his thumb in your mouth and lick, only to taste the spicy curry you love so much.

"Sy! You didn't!" you exclaim, looking up at him excitedly. Your eyes are sparkling.

It's your favorite food, and the expression on your face is one of his favorites. To see it on your face was why he made your favored cuisine for dinner, to make you happy.

He turns again, washing his hand and moving back in front of you, "I take it the salt is fine?"

You giggle, smushing your face into his back, muffled exclamations of 'it's perfect' and 'I love it' leaving your mouth.

It's silent for a few moments and then he hears it again. It's slow, and first. He can feel the vibrations of your lips against his back, but slowly it becomes a little louder and he can make out the words leaving your mouth as you squeeze him a little.

"I've never asked." he begins, not knowing how to word his question.

You pause and hum inquisitively, a signal for him to go on.

"What song is that? You sing it at the most random times." he stirs the curry one more time before putting on the lid for the pot and leaving it to simmer. He turns around to face you and you're sporting a bashful smile.

He chuckles, "Is a certain little dove feeling shy?" The way you purse your lips makes him want to unfurl them with his fingers and kiss them over and over until you grant him with your angelic laughter.

You titter, shaking your head, "No- it's-"

His fingers softly grasp your jaw and turn your face to look at him, his ruby eyes are soft, "Go on, lovely."

"It's special, Sy." you begin and he hums in reply, urging you to go on, "It's a song I used to listen to when I was a child. It's about love."

"Oh?" he raises an eyebrow, a smirk on his face, "Love, huh?"

Your eyes are still trained on him, "Mhmm."

"You sing it quite often, lovely. And always around me."

After a beat of silence, you let out a sigh, "For someone so clever, you really are an idiot, sometimes."

"Ouch." he winces, "How you wound me so." and chuckles when you shove him.

"You idiot." you say, without any spite, "I sing that song every time I'm perfectly and incandescently happy."

He freezes, then. His eyes widen just a little. Perfectly and incandescently happy, around him, every time.

You look away, your hands move to hold his, "It's me saying I love you."

I love you.

I love you.

I love you i love you i love you i love you i love you iloveyou ilove you-

He brings your face to his, lips meeting in a soft kiss, silencing that gasp leaving your mouth. His big hands hold your cheeks, stroking them while yours go behind his neck.

Your bodies are close, wrapped in each other's warmth, the smell of your favorite food cooking, and your love palpable in the air.

Maybe this lifetime was enough for him now, his only love.

[xoxochb]

— for satan ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

warnings: very dark themes, satanism, human sacrifice, smut, illusions to violence pairing: dark! percy jackson x fem! reader

the candles flick incandescently surrounding you, the only thing filling the darkness of… wherever you were.

all you knew at the moment was that it was cold, the solid ground beneath your bare skin, the same skin littered in bruises and bleeding cuts from the kidnapping.

you inhale the musty air. the dark haired boy works attentively, flipping through pages of a beat-up book. you can only assume it’s millions of years old. under his breath, he murmurs something in a language unknown to you.

he walks towards you and sits beside your laying self, the book in his lap. a tear trickles down your red cheek.

“for satan.” the first thing he’s said to you since taking you here.

you bottom lip quivers. “what- I- what do you want with me?”

“a sacrifice to satan. only the corpse of a human.”

okay…

“please,” you cry. “I- I don’t- why?”

“the blood moon.”

the boy holds the book towards your face, pointing to a photo of a reddened moon, maroon almost. it reads below the ritual for a human sacrifice to satan, the very devil from hell, the fallen angel from heaven.

the words are written in a cursive form, some latin, some english. regardless, it’s disturbing.

calm. act calm. like this mysterious boy isn’t going to sacrifice you to lucifer shortly. you sigh shakily. “what are you going to do to me? who even are you?”

“perseus— percy.” he avoids eye contact at every cost. “and I’m going to mark you with satan’s symbol. here.” his hand traces the expanse of your exposed tummy, heat falling off his touch. “and the devil will take you.”

“well… do I need to be tied for this?” you gesture to the ropes binding your hands above your head.

“yes. so you don’t stop me.”

you huff, your legs idly twiddle uncomfortably. “do you have to do this? or you could always choose another girl to sacrifice?”

“no. I’ll never find anyone as obedient as you.”

you close your eyes and rest your head back against the concrete. it goes silent. cold and silent and dark and uncomfortable and exposed. goosebumps trickle along the expanse of your bare skin.

you’re stuck.

until— however, a thought crosses your mind.

“if you believe I’m so obedient then what makes you think I’ll run once you’ve untied me?”

percy is quiet for a moment. before he grabs a dagger and cuts the ropes binding your wrists to the cement.

it worked perfectly.

with your hands free, you sit up and hold them close to your chest, rubbing them to soothe the throbbing pain from the tightness to which they held you.

you close your eyes again and take a deep inhale before opening them again. “percy.”

“yes?”

you pause for a moment. “why are you seated so far from me?”

“do you wish I sit closer?”

“yes.”

no. but only if your plan works you may be saved.

he moves closer to you, your skin brushes against his clothing. “tell me,” you begin again. “how does satan take his sacrifices?”

“in a vulnerable state.”

you nod slowly, understandingly. you remove your hand from your chest to reveal your breasts perfectly exposed to percy’s eyes. with shaky fingers, you rest your hands atop his shoulders, letting your legs straddle his thighs.

“tell me now, do you feel vulnerable like this?”

his hands find a place on your waist hesitantly. “no. perhaps you should continue?”

you meet his gaze. his eyes are sea green. you find no glimmer of uncertainty or joking from his statement. without a second thought you let your mouth cover his own.

to your surprise he returns the kiss, grip tightening on your skin, rough enough to leave marks. you take this moment to forget that only moments ago this very boy had been attempting to sacrifice you to the devil.

you let yourself melt into his touch, his tongue find the hot, hollow entirety of your mouth, mingling and dominating tongues. one of his hands reaches up to your neck, holding it tightly to keep you pressed against him.

not that you had anywhere else to go anyways.

your nimble fingers fumble with the buttons of his white shirt— dirtied from god knows what— undoing each from the top to the bottom.

once finished and unbuttoned, you let it hang open until his hands remove themselves reluctantly from your frame, sliding the sleeves off until without shirt completely. percy’s hands find their way back to you without hesitance this time.

your own hands place over his chest, getting to know him from touch alone. he’s warm, and alongside this you feel scars that veil his skin, small and large and all sizes, you trace them with diligence.

with much carefulness, percy guides you onto your back, holding your waist to assure the cement won’t scrape your skin. it doesn’t, thankfully.

his mouth leaves your own, a string of saliva following the departure. his lips trace down your jaw, your neck, nipping at your skin on occasions.

you fist portions of his hair into your grasp, tugging them, eliciting guttural groans from his throat as he goes. his expedition down your body doesn’t diminish after your neck. next, your clavicle, your breasts, sucking each of your pebbles nipples, and to your sternum, and your tummy.

percy takes his time as he begins lower, approaching the heat between your thighs. finding next your hip bones, teasing, and parting your legs as he settles between them.

you suck in a deep breath as he begins to kiss your inner thighs, awaiting his mouth’s arrival to your core.

“percy,” you murmur.

his tongue reaches out to taste you for a split second, before licking a stripe over your wetness. despite your squirming, his movements are unhurried.

and eventually, his tongue finds a home between your folds, sucking you in. you moan in delight. though such a boy should not make you feel this way.

but he does, to your unfortunate dismay.

your nails scratch at the cement, not stable enough to prevent you from moving around. you latch onto percy’s hair once again, twisting strands around your fingers. he devours your throbbing cunt like he had ached for this for long.

though you had been nude to his eye for days, so there was a possibility he had.

you wish your brain wasn’t so hazed. you’d ask him how vulnerable he felt now, how he would pour his emotions out to you through suctions to your clit, and the famished manner that he eats you.

your head scratches against the rock solidness of the ground, leaving tears falling from your eyes at the pain it erupts. stupid stupid stupid.

but on the contrary, all is well as long as you aren’t being sacrificed any longer.

but this, is for satan’s eyes. all for satan.

[mythology-void]

the only reason i'm in academia is for those perfectly incandescent moments when you've been staring at the same problem for 3 hours and then you finally, finally connect the dots (all on your own!) and you are instantly suffused with that shivery golden kind of pleasure because you did it! you figured it out. and maybe life is worth something because look at the beauty you're creating

[deecotan]

Completely, and perfectly, incandescently happy

[mxrecg]

True Love vs Infatuation | Gojo x Reader

Summary: Gojo loves nothing more than spending time with you, even if it only consists of doing the most mundane of things. It wasn't until today, you realized just how much Gojo Satoru loves you.

Pairing: High School Gojo x YN

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Word Count: 2.4k

A/n: Imma be so honest idk wtf this is but I wrote it a hellaaa long time ago. So bc JJK s2 is out I thought why not post this drabble I wrote a long ass time ago. I also genuinely think this prolly isn't how canon Gojo would act but bruh I tried!! Anyways enjoy

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Incandescent fireflies painted the dark sky with small flakes of light, creating an enriched serene atmosphere for reading. 

So there you sat cross-legged, outside your balcony, fully engrossed by the book you were reading. 

You slowly became hypnotised by the words allocated within the pages of the novel you were reading.

As your eyes further loomed through the pages and comprehended the context, your eyebrows furrowed in irritation and cuss words occasionally left your lips. 

Lost and captivated by the words decorating the interior pages of the book, you paid no mind to the snoring boy who laid down on your lap. 

You continued reading the story. Book in your dominant hand; whereas, the other one gently massaged the scalp of the teenage boy on your lap. 

Page after page began to turn, and soon enough you’ve reached the final page… to say you were disappointed was an understatement. 

Angered at the ending, you immediately slammed the book down on a coffee table and debated on whether or not you should ignite it on fire for illustrating such a realistic yet heartbreaking ending. 

Your sudden outburst lured the teenage boy out of his sleep, and he groaned, carelessly rubbing his eyes during his tired state. 

“Did one of your favourite manga boys die again?” he asked, now fully sitting up and stretching his arms. 

“You’re not entirely wrong,” you aggravatedly muttered. 

“Then tell me what’s aggravating your pretty self and giving you wrinkles,” he stated and you didn’t even bother showing your irritation to the latter comment. 

You took a deep breath, turned your head and he watched as your eyes became livid as you recited the vast difference of each character’s milieu and how their fate perfectly intertwined with one another. 

Your hands doing all sorts of motions, in an attempt to exemplify your extreme dislike and sadness of the poetic story you read. 

A story involving two individuals who unconsciously were ameliorating each other’s lives.

“It’s infuriating Satoru!! Did these two airheads even love each other?? It hasn’t even been like 24 hours and the girl is already marrying the man who was bawling his eyes over another girl- love of my life my ass,”

Satoru listened to your outburst intently, smiling at the sounds of your melodic voice. 

You let out a small huff of frustration, before finally ending your rant and the tears suddenly cascaded down your pale skin, “That being said, the author is able to write damn well.” 

Satoru only laughed quietly, wiping away your stray tears with his right hand, “I thought you hated sad romantic books? Why would you willingly choose to read Shakespere? At least watch the movie instead,” he replied and began playing with your hair. 

His reply caught you off guard and you tilted your head in confusion, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“You know what book I’m talking about?” you asked incredulously.  

“Yes… why do you look so shocked?” he asked, continuing to brush the threads of your h/l h/c hair, “It’s Romeo and Juliet, how could I not know? I swear Shoto was straight up fangirling about the movie actor-Da Vinci!!” 

“Da Vinci?” you replied, flicking his forehead and trying to hide your growing amusement, causing the man to pout his lips, “How the hell would a painter act? A dead painter at that.”

“No- no Leonardo Da Vinci the actor-”

It took every fibre in you to not burst out laughing at the moron in front of you, “My love, listen to me carefully- it's Di Caprio. Da Vinci painted the Mona Lisa.” 

The man in front of you scoffed at your reply. 

“Da Vinci. Di Caprio, who cares. They’re both Leo’s involved in the art industry of the world. You must admit though, neither of them compare to me!” he said proudly. 

“I don’t know…. Leonardo Di Caprio does seem to have a lot of fangirls right now…. I mean have you seen him in Romeo and Juliet? Or better yet, Titanic?”

The man only poked the interior of his cheek with his tongue, scowling at you as you laughed. 

“The real question is though- did you read the book?”

“Yes,” he let out, not missing a beat. 

“The Satoru Gojo reads? The world must be ending,” you teased, clasping one of his hands and using your other hand to caress his cheek. 

Satoru didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned into your hand and softly smiled. 

His eyes soon twinkled into amusement, as an idea struck him. 

Noticing the change of his behaviour, you lifted an eyebrow to display your confusion. Satoru remained silent and instead flipped you over, so that your back was pressed against the couch. 

He smirked, straddling your hips and began tickling your sides. 

Squirming under his touch, you burst into fits of laughter, “T-toru…. S-stop….” you tried to breathe out, “Gojo- p-please hahahaha.”

Your pleas only encouraged him to tickle you faster, and you soon began to kick your feet, thrashing beneath the man as if your strength could overpower his. 

“Say Gojo Satoru is the strongest person in the world,” he smiled, continuing his attack. 

“I’d rather die,” you said in between heaps of laughter.

The man poked the interior of his cheek before smirking at you, a playful smile adorning his face as he continued with his attack. 

“Being tickled to death. Hm that seems new, I’ll discard your body so don’t worry, suit yourself,” he replied and grazed his fingers at your newly exposed skin, since your shirt slowly began to ride up above your navel. 

“Ok ok… Gojo… is the… strongest person….” 

“Go on, continue,” he encouraged. 

Despite the laughter escaping your lips, forcing your eyes shut, you already sensed the cockiness behind his words and you immediately laughed harder when you thought of something that would catch him off guard. 

“Gojo- i-is… the… strongest….” you stuttered out. 

“Altogether, now, state the full name,” he stated. Although, it seemed more like a command than a request. 

“OK!! Gojo Y/n is the strongest person in the world,” you spurred out in one quick breath. 

Impressed with the turn of events and his lack of words, you could not help but smirk- considering you made this cocky guy lose his demeanour. 

His tickling immediately ceased, his irises resembling a deer caught in the headlights, and his mouth slowly falling open. 

Gojo was in disbelief, as he tried to ensure his hearing wasn’t deteriorating and the words that escaped your mouth not too long ago were not a part of his mere illusive imagination.

Before he could recover and say some snide snarky remark, you grabbed Satoru’s shirt, pulling him down with you against the cushions of the couch you resided on. 

The action took him by surprise, but he didn't refuse and instead grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him, with his arms eventually caging you beneath him. 

He licked your bottom lip, and you found yourself parting your mouth slightly, both your tongues intertwining with one another. 

Caressing your cheek, he then began to angle your head more towards the left, and did not hesitate to bite your bottom lip shortly after. 

You hissed at the new sensation, and Gojo immediately attempted to alleviate the now burning sensation on your lips by running his lips over the new forming bruise. 

You were the first to pull back to breathe. As the both of you attempted to even out your breathing, one of your hands caressed his dusted pink cheeks, while the other one removed his sunglasses, revealing those piercing icy blue eyes you fell in love with. 

He looked at you with such love and adoration that you could not help but feel butterflies swarming around your stomach. 

Your e/c eyes looked up at his illuminating bright blue ones and you smiled, “I’m the strongest person in the world, Toru.”

“That you are,” he replied, kissing your nose. 

“You’re not even going to rebuttal and be the cocky bastard you usually are?” You questioned him, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re the strongest… The strongest doesn’t necessarily mean having the most power. It’s your character. Plus you got me… not just anyone could make me fall in love with them. You have my tall ass whipped around your finger.” 

You stared at your boyfriend, in awe and bursted out laughing. “We’re both strong. How about that?” 

“Mhm. We’re the top two strongest special grade sorcerers to exist, and for the next century to come” he muttered and buried himself into your neck, as he was now fully lying down on you. 

You laughed at his reply, “Your best friend might not like that statement so much,” 

“... I mean you’re also my best friend and technically you’re stronger than him, not by a longshot but still stronger nonetheless… and I couldn’t be more proud of you,” he mumbled and kissed your neck. 

You quietly hummed in reply, and began to softly hymn the songs of a soft lullaby.

Satoru was still lying on top of you, and as the melody escaped your lips, your fingers threaded his soft white hair. 

Gojo Satoru was at peace. This cocky bastard was like putty in your hands, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

To others his exterior forecasted a childish, arrogant and conceited individual. One who would blatantly show his dislike to those who he did not give an ounce of care for. 

And to the shaman and other sorcerers who only knew his name, he was a force to be reckoned with and feared. 

But to you, he was only Gojo Satoru. 

“Y/n?” he called out softly. 

“Yeah?” 

“You know, I love you, right?” his face may have been hiding in your neck, but you could feel him smiling. 

You raised an eyebrow at his sudden comment, but even you couldn’t stop the smile threatening to form, “I know. And I love you too, forever and always,” 

“You didn’t lie though earlier,” he randomly stated, “One day, your new name will become Gojo Y/n.”

“Satoru…” you whispered, fighting back the tears that were threatening to fall. 

“One day, I’ll marry you… and when we’re older you'll become the mother of our children.”

“One day Satoru, one day,” you replied, kissing his temple. “By the way, since when did you even read- romance books?” 

You felt his breathing hitch and he slowly pried himself off of you, aimlessly scratching the back of his head. 

“Uhm… like two years ago?” 

“Why though?”

“About two years ago,  there was a new transfer student. I noticed she was eloquently spoken, especially in English-”

“Eloquently spoken??” You asked, trying to suppress your laughter. 

“Shut up and let me finish,”

You covered your mouth and smiled. 

“Anyways, I was coming back from a mission and stuffing my face with an assortment of sweets. Then I heard you and Shoko talking about romance novels, and how you liked guys that read… so the first book I picked up was some corny romance manga and then I read Romeo and Juliet. Shitty book that I barely understood but happy ending I guess.” 

“So you only started reading because you overheard me talk about it?” you pinched his cheeks, “Aw, first year Gojo Satoru was so whipped and in love, how sweet” 

Satoru only rolled his eyes at your statement, and you bursted out laughing as you remembered his attempts to woo you back in your first year. 

“I thought you barely had any hobbies?” you asked. 

“I don’t. Because I’m good at everything.” 

“Yet you still chose to pick up reading of all things?” you slightly laughed. 

“I would pick up any hobby if you asked me to, honestly.”

“No offence, but if that is where you got your romance from you did a shitty job, love.” you giggled. 

“Ouch,” he replied,  “But hey it went pretty well, you’re mine now anyways.” 

 “That you are,” You replied, kissing his nose. “So if you read the book and I assume you also watched the movie, do you understand my pain?” 

“100% Romeo is an airhead. He was probably just horny and infatuated with the first female he saw,” he bluntly stated and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud, Satoru joining in on your laughter. 

As your laughs began to die down he continued, “On a serious note though… Whether or not it was love, their actions prove that they did love each other. I guess love really does make you blind, their suicide only proved that.”

“Tragic ending?” 

“Not really… in a way, I believe it’s a happy ending- that is, assuming those two airheads were actually in love with each other.”

“Did you not hear me muttering cuss words when reading and slamming the book? If you asked me, that book was nothing but aggravating and sad.” 

“Sad as their death was, it was a happy ending. They claimed to have met their soulmate and the love of their life before they died. Not everyone gets that luxury you know?” 

You looked at your boyfriend with both amazement and confusion, “Since when were you so wise?” 

“I don’t even know, love. But I’m not wrong…. Our story would be much happier though, because neither of us are gonna die.”

“You spoke nothing but the truth,” you quietly replied and the two of you began leaning into each other once again. 

“Who knew Satoru could be such a wise lil baby,” said a voice, laughing. 

The two of you immediately pulled away, and looked up to see no one other than Geto Suguru, the poor third wheeler of your relationship. 

“Suguru… how long have you been there for?” you asked. 

“Enough to know that this man loves you way too much… to the point where he knows his feelings for you aren’t infatuation but solid feelings.” 

While you were a blushing mess, Gojo only smiled and smacked his best friend on his back, “Okay enough chit chat, why don’t we all get something to eat, yeah? I suggest-” 

“Steak. We’re eating steak tonight at that new restaurant. You both are paying. It’s the least you could do for making me witness such crap.” 

“You’re just mad because you’re single, bro”

“Ain’t that the truth,” you agreed. 

“Shut the actual fuck, both of you lovebirds.”

The three of you then laughed and made your way to the restaurant of Suguru’s choice.

A/n: So any thoughts? I hope you all liked it <3 Ngl, this does have another part to it, but idk if I'll ever post it tbh. Follow me on my ao3 account I have other ffs there too @idekmxre

[ninibeingdelulu]

Welcome to Berlin

synopsis-> Leaving your own country for his, you discover a totally different world. But at least, he’s with you.

wc-> 800

a/n-> special edition 4 my man only >.< and new design’s coming for my whole blog!!

The crisp chill of an early Berlin morning instantly prickled your exposed cheeks as soon as you stepped outside, far colder than any late autumn day back in Japan.

Hugging your thick woolen coat tighter, you tilted your face up to squint against the bright sunlight glinting off the city's sleek modern facades and windows.

"You'll get used to the temperature swings around here soon enough, liebling."

Michael's low, honeyed rasp rolled out in puffs of vapor beside your ear. His arm snaked around your waist, palm splayed possessively over the small of your back as he tucked you firmly against his side.

"These German winters are no joke."

You offered him a wordless hum and smile, simply basking in the solid, radiating warmth of his toned striker's body enveloping you like a furnace.

Little daily moments like these hazy morning strolls still felt almost dreamlike - the fact you'd truly uprooted your entire life in Japan just to follow this tempestuous blond firecracker across the world.

Not that you had a single regret. You'd choose the leap into the unknown alongside Michael a thousand times over.

As if sensing the introspective turn your thoughts had taken, he paused to swing you around until you were directly in his path.

Those piercing blue irises danced over your face with unchecked wonderment, palming your jaw to tip your features towards the brilliant sunshine haloing his hair in coronas of incandescent gold.

"Beautiful."

Michael husked in an unguarded moment of worship, caressing the arch of one cheekbone with his thumb.

You could never resist the swell of affection that tugged your heart sideways at those rare candid displays.

"Alright hotshot," you chuckled briskly to diffuse the rapidly thickening tension charging the morning air.

Using both palms flat on his firm chest to apply backwards pressure, you side-stepped smoothly away.

"Weren't you just telling me the other day about some crazy delicious new Bavarian bakery around the corner here?"

He flashed you a wolfish grin - catching your unspoken deflection easily - before slinging one long muscular arm loosely around your shoulders to resume strolling.

That tell-tale smug glint in his eye was clear even beneath the shadow of his snapback as he dipped his face closer.

"Oh, is that what the lady's craving? Should've known it'd be something sweet."

You hip-checked him playfully as the two of you navigated through the maze of residential streets enjoying each other's familiar banter.

"What can I say? All this freezing northern weather instantly makes me crave warm, gooey carbs. Lead the way to that sugary promised land, mikka"

Every now and then, Michael would pause your leisurely pace to waggle a finger sternly at some foreign street sign or landmark, coaching the proper pronunciation in his deep, throaty accent.

Committing each phrase and vocabulary word to memory with an eagerness that never failed to make his chest puff up with masculine pride whenever you repeated them back perfectly.

He took such unabashed delight in meticulously guiding you through the ins and outs of his native tongue despite your initial shyness over how thickly accented your Japanese sounded to him at first.

Impromptu German lessons on the street had quickly blossomed into an impromptu tradition whenever the two of you went exploring his hometown together.

You would have thought back to the shy, timid girl you'd been before falling for this wild tempest of a German striker nervously struggling to string together the most basic hello and thank you in Japanese for his first month in Japan.

Now, Michael delighted in witnessing just how ferociously determined and adaptable you'd become in chasing after him wholeheartedly into the unfamiliar world of Berlin.

Eventually, tantalizing scents of butter, cinnamon and mouthwatering yeasty dough grew too overpowering to resist.

Michael chivalrously kept pulling the heavy oak bakery door open wide and ushering you ahead into the tiny shop's cramped interior.

Warm, cheerful lighting spilled across tidy glass cases displaying all manner of crusty breads and delectably glistening confections.

He hovered behind as you slowly perused each tantalizing offering - chest pressed flush along your back, muscular forearms caging you in bracketed along the counter's edge.

"So," Michael rumbled lowly into the sensitive whorls of your ear, eliciting a shiver you were certain he felt ripple through your whole frame.

"What looks like it'll hit the spot for getting my best girl all warmed up and satisfied this morning?"

Heat blossomed across your cheeks, equally from both the fluster over his suggestive tone as well as the rich, sweet perfume of baking spices and buttery pastries swirling tantalizingly.

You somehow managed to swallow thickly against the sudden tightness in your throat while motioning towards one particularly plump, sugar-dusted selection - "That...um, that one looks amazing."

Michael chuckled lowly, every exhale stirring the wispy hairs along your nape, before flagging down the kind elderly baker behind the counter to place your order.

You basked in the full-bodied bliss of inhaling the piping hot pastry's rapturous aroma with your first eager bite as you wandered back outside - snuggling ever nearer into the shelter of Michael's embrace.

Whatever grand adventure still lay ahead in this brand new country, you knew you were more than ready to face it all...so long as this fierce whirlwind of a hotshot striker never stopped making you weak at the knees like this.

[hyorijie]

Hi, I don't know if you're doing any requests at the moment, but if you are, can you do an Alastor x Reader where Reader and Alastor were Ex-lovers from their past life, and then they meet again, when Charlie decides to host a Halloween speed dating event, and the two are paired together?

I loved your request, I hope you like it. ♡

Between masks and shades

Alastor x Reader - Halloween date

Tags Ex-lovers, Speed dating, Halloween decorating, Awkward conversations, memories, masks, Alastor is not good with his feelings, resolutions, a bit of angst.

The darkest season of the year was beginning to make its way into the underworld. The air thick with malice, it seemed to tremble with anticipation, as if even in this corner a rare thrill was allowed with the arrival of Halloween.

Amidst the loosely controlled chaos, Charlie, Princess Morningstar, glimpsed a unique opportunity - what better time than Halloween to unite the hotel's inhabitants in something different? While convincing them would not be easy, she knew she could excite anyone with enough conviction.

So the idea was born; a Halloween party with a twist, something that would allow the damned souls, if only for one night, to rest in peace from their eternal woes. And its main attraction would be a "Speed Dating" event, an opportunity for ghouls, lost souls and other hotel tenants to establish a connection, a spark of humanity, or at least a fleeting distraction in the midst of purgatory.

Festive posters began to appear in every nook and cranny inside and outside the hotel, covered in cobwebs and smiling pumpkin drawings. They said in big, bold letters, "Find your soul mate! Halloween Speed Dating Event." You found yourself standing in front of one of those posters, looking at it with a mixture of curiosity and skepticism. Since your arrival, fitting in had been a painful process.

This place, with its crushing atmosphere, seemed to mock your attempts to live in peace, leaving you mired in frustration. But above all, what kept a spark alive in your heart was the memory of someone special. A love lost in life, a face that kept appearing in your dreams, so clear you could almost feel its presence. That love, irreplaceable and taken away from you, was the only thing that still made you resist in the midst of the gloom. And without realizing how, you were already walking into the hotel lobby, the festive decorations absorbing you in their charm.

Pumpkins glowed with an orange glow, and autumn leaves seemed to float with a life of their own, giving the space an enchanted air. You had the feeling that the hotel itself was breathing. Suddenly, a floating tray glided towards you, with a decorated mask and next to it, a card, it looked like something custom-made. The startling glow called to you, and engraved in incandescent glare could be read, "To know true love, you must know the soul."

You took the mask, feeling the smooth texture under your fingers, and put it on, noticing how it fit your face perfectly, almost transforming who you were into someone else. It was then that a cheerful voice echoed through the room.

—Welcome! — A glowing figure at the front of the room exclaimed. It was Charlie, his hair contrasting dramatically against a golden mask and a red dress that seemed to glow with his enthusiasm. —Thank you all for participating in this event. The dynamic is simple; ten minutes per appointment. As the bell rings, they switch tables and continue to get to know each other.

Some residents looked around with the same mix of skepticism and curiosity as you, but Charlie's energy was contagious, filling the room with unusual anticipation.

The tables were arranged in small circles around the room, each decorated with candles, offering a warm ambiance in the midst of what for many was a rather uncomfortable gathering.

With the mask on your face and a slight tremor in your chest, you approached your first table. Your first encounter was with a demon with an arrogant bearing, who seemed in his element. He wore a flashy outfit, crossing one leg over the other as an arrogant smirk played across his lips.

— I suppose you've already noticed —he said, leaning towards you —that I'm not exactly the discreet type. Eternity is best enjoyed when you don't limit yourself.

He spoke of himself with a confidence that bordered on haughtiness, recounting his exploits with an almost disinterested looseness in your response. His eyes sparkled with a mischievousness that was intended to be seductive, but in reality only generated discomfort that bordered on displeasure. Nevertheless, you listened to him with a polite smile, but your mind was far away from there, wishing the minutes would run out.

This is definitely not my type. you thought.

Finally, the bell rang and you hurried to change tables, letting out a sigh of relief. In front of you, you found a petite, vibrant figure, whose single eye glittered with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Her voice was quick and high-pitched, almost a torrent of enthusiasm that seemed to overflow from her.

—This is kind of exciting! I can hardly wait to meet you! — she exclaimed, her words flowing with an energy that was hard to follow. — Did you know I love cleaning, I could spend hours organizing things and looking for bugs!

Her enthusiasm was so palpable that, while endearing, it began to overwhelm you. You struggled to keep up with her chatter, but each passing second increased your confusion, caught up in her maelstrom of words.

Despite your good intentions, every second of that conversation felt like a messy whirlwind of words and energy. The bell rang again, releasing you from that strange appointment, you felt an immediate indescribable relief. After just two encounters, you were exhausted and decided you needed a break.

The bustle of the tables, the hurried interactions, and the unusually lively tone of the event were beginning to wear on you. You got up from the table, sketching an apologetic smile, and slipped into the shadows of the lobby hoping to find the restroom or some secluded corner to regain your composure.

However, as you walked down a dimly lit hallway, something caught your eye. A slightly ajar door. Curiosity got the better of you and, without thinking too much, you pushed it, inside, a small room could be glimpsed. And right in the center of the room, a demon was sitting in a velvet armchair.

He held a newspaper and beside him rested a steaming cup of tea on a delicately carved small table. He was elegantly and neatly dressed, accentuated by the red of the dress. Instantly you knew who he was; infamous radio demon. He was such an enveloping and disturbing presence at the same time, he made the air in the room feel charged with a barely contained intensity.

He seemed oblivious to the bustle of the event in the hall, immersed in an absolute tranquility contrasting with the frenetic atmosphere of speed dating. He didn't look up when you walked in, so immersed in his reading or perhaps... as if he had been waiting.

—Well, well... you seem to have found something much more interesting than speed dating —commented a deep, resonant voice, full of strange musicality. He lowered the paper with a smile that had the clear purpose of disarming anyone who confronted him, a sly, calculated smile.

You felt the air in the room grow thicker. Alastor's calmness, his relaxed posture and his gaze that seemed to see beyond appearances, was disconcerting. There was something about his presence that not only unsettled, but created a kind of almost hypnotic fascination.

— I didn't expect to find something like this at the event...—You finally answered, your voice sounding more fragile than you would have liked.

Alastor tilted his head, studying you with a curiosity that was hard to decipher. His smile never disappeared, and there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. Though you had heard of Alastor and knew on good authority of his fearsome reputation, you were unprepared for the intensity of his presence in person. His look...everything about him projected a sweet, veiled menace beneath a layer of impeccable politeness.

All the rumors had not been exaggerated; he was absolutely dangerous. And yet, seeing him at that moment, wrapped in unnerving tranquility, made you feel captivated by the enigmatic atmosphere that surrounded him.

You noticed a soft melody, a jazz that seemed to emanate from the walls. The subtle melody, one that added an unexpected calmness to the space, as if this little corner was protected from the hustle and bustle. Your senses relaxed enough to make you forget, for a moment, where you really were.

Calmly, you decided to sit across from Alastor, in a delicate balance between curiosity and caution. It was then that you noticed that he was not wearing a mask, unlike the attendants, but in his case, he didn't need one. His very presence was shrouded in a mystery that not even a mask could intensify. Subtly, he finally slid the paper away, the amusement on his face was carved in an appraisal, a subtle communication of asking himself what to do with you.

— I don't remember seeing you anywhere, which makes me wonder...are you lost, my dear? — he uttered, his voice further emphasizing the resonance that achieved an electrifying static around him. It was a rich, melodious, enchanting voice.

Despite his question, you still felt you were in the speed dating frame, you forced a polite smile, trying to answer naturally.

—No, I'm not lost, I guess. I just took a break from the main room and, without realizing it, ended up here. I guess it's my turn... right?— You replied with slight doubt settling in your tone. Alastor, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow, amused at your response.

"Your turn?" he repeated, as if he found the very idea extremely hilarious. Curious, he thought, watching you with an intensity that made you feel naked.

—My dear —He continued, with that smile that now seemed to widen just a little more. —Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not part of that little speed dating show. I don't usually get involved in such... ephemeral activities. —His voice deepened as she uttered that last word, as if reminding him of how insignificant he found such events. Then he paused, allowing you to process his words.

— But I must admit, I was intrigued. How did you get here? —You looked at him carefully.

Now somewhat more alert, you looked at him intently. His every word, his every pause, seemed carefully chosen, like a game in which only he understood the rules. There was something about that controlled calm that you found disconcerting. Still, your polite nature held you steady.

— Well, I wasn't looking for anything in particular. I'm simply following my intuition, and that brought me here...— you said, with a studied but sincere naturalness.— And here we are.

Alastor let out a soft, resonant laugh, one that seemed to drift through the air like the jazz melody that filled the room, enveloping the words in a subtle undercurrent of irony.

— Oh, of course... here we are. — he repeated, settling back in his chair, his interest clearly piqued by your words. His eyes narrowed just slightly, flashing with that teasing sparkle as he continued, —So, what do you think of this evening? I should imagine you've had some... rather memorable encounters.— The mocking tone and innuendo in his voice brought to mind some of the more flamboyant characters you had met that night.

You thought of the arrogant demon and the chaotic Nifty, and a wry smile tugged at your lips.

—Memorable is a good way to describe it. —you admitted sincerely. — Although, to be honest, I'm not sure this kind of event is my thing.

Alastor watched you silently, with a look that, oddly enough, seemed to soften. There was something akin to approval in his eyes, as if your answer had fulfilled some unseen expectation.

—Wise choice,— he commented, leaning a little closer, letting a hint of satisfaction show in his tone. —The true meeting of souls rarely happens in ten minutes... and certainly not in a room full of masks.— Leaning forward, his gaze deepened, as if in that moment he could see beyond your words, into some corner of you that he was barely aware of having shown.

— I'm surprised, then, that you haven't run off yet.— he added, in a kind of subtle challenge that made you raise your chin in intrigue. You looked back at him, searching his expression for some clue beyond his words.

—And why haven't you? —you replied, returning his challenge with the same intensity.Alastor interlaced his fingers calmly, never taking his eyes from yours, as if analyzing every nuance in your expression before answering.

—Ah, my dear,— he replied at last, his voice dark and melodious.—I don't run away from anything. I simply observe, I enjoy myself... and, on occasion, I find something or someone worth a closer look.

Again, the silence became dense and palpable, but far from being uncomfortable, it felt like a space suspended in time, an intangible place where you both lingered in that delicate game of words and glances. The soft music seemed to dissipate, blurring reality and making you feel that, for the first time in the night, you were in front of someone -or something- that really captured your attention, daring you to stay, to discover what else was behind his invisible mask.

—So...— continued Alastor, leaning in a little closer, his eyes like dark mirrors in which you seemed to lose yourself, — What are you really looking for in this little game?

Under the spell of the soft music and the intensity Alastor exuded, you let the moment take hold of you. The atmosphere was a refuge amidst the chaos, a corner of introspection where, for an instant, the frenetic event around you ceased to exist.

You found yourself questioning what you were really looking for, a question so elementary and simple, but which at that very moment felt immense.Without knowing why, you caught yourself reflecting out loud. The words flowed as if they were waiting for that exact moment to be released, loaded with an almost painful honesty.

—I don't know...— you said, with a hesitation that was more real than you had felt in a long time, — I'm not here looking for someone, or love, if that's what you mean. — You hesitated for a second, but in the end you decided to lower your gaze, looking at the texture of the table as if in it you could find answers.— But something, I don't know what, brought me here.

The confession slipped from your lips like a whisper, a secret released as much to yourself as to him. It was a thought you had not articulated before, and as you said it aloud, you were overcome with a sense of relief, yet also uncertainty.

The silence that followed was so palpable that you could almost touch it, but in an unexpectedly comforting way. It was a dense silence, but far from being uncomfortable; it was the kind of pause that, far from filling you with words, seemed to invite you to immerse yourself even more in that unique and sincere exchange. In the semi-darkness, the light barely managed to bring out the gleam in Alastor's eyes, who did not look away from you.

His eyes watched you with an intensity that, for the first time, you did not perceive as a power play or a calculated maneuver. Behind his enigmatic smile there was something deeper, a spark of genuine interest that puzzled you, as if your vulnerability had resonated with something he understood in his innermost being.

You didn't know what it was exactly, but in his silence and the way he looked at you, you sensed an unexpected connection.Alastor barely tilted his head, studying you with that captivating curiosity, as if he was valuing every word, every pause. His eyes, dark and enigmatic, never left yours, and in that moment you felt that he also showed you, perhaps unintentionally, a part of his true self.

—It is not common to find sincerity in the midst of a night of disguises.— he finally commented, his voice low and rich in nuance, each word spoken with a cadence that seemed to carry a special weight.

That calm that surrounded him, that strange peace he exuded, made you feel that he understood, even if he didn't say so explicitly.

For a second, the melody seemed to intensify around you, enveloping you both in an intimate and unreal space, a corner away from the world. The music and the gloom seemed to protect that confession, as if they had shared something sacred and Alastor had received it with a silent but profound respect.

He slid his hand, slowly, toward the center of the table, an implicit invitation, an offer of connection beyond words. He watched you with that same unfathomable intensity, his gaze like an abyss inviting you to enter unreservedly. And then, in that melodious, resonant voice, he spoke again:

— Sometimes, my dear...—he whispered, as if sharing a secret, — what we find is more important than what we seek.

His words hung between you, and you realized that, on that strange night, in that secluded and mysterious corner, you had found something more than a stranger. You had found a dark mirror in which you reflected yourself, and though you found it disturbing, you could not look away.

Now, immersed in the crushing and enveloping atmosphere, you found yourself watching him with a new intensity. Every detail about him, from his suit to the subtlety of his gestures, took you back to buried memories, images of a time that was once yours, but already seemed faded in your memory. There was something about his elegance that, as you looked at him closely, evoked a feeling in you, a sense of familiarity.

That thought, as regretful as it was revealing, made you feel an irresistible impulse, an urge to break the spell and voice aloud the suspicion that was hovering in your mind. With a subtle effort not to appear too intrigued, you muster your courage and allow the words to flow.

—Tell me…—you began, noticing that your voice was soft, almost a whisper— in life, were you… also from the thirties?

The question was direct, but there was a naturalness in the tone that seemed to be that of someone who recognizes a reflection in another person. As you asked it, your eyes remained fixed on him, waiting for some reaction, something that would confirm what, deep down, you already sensed. Because he not only seemed to be out of tune with that modern era; his bearing, his manners, that elegance carefully woven into every gesture... everything about him evoked a time that had been left behind, and that, somehow, you both shared.

Alastor let out a low, resonant laugh, a sound that spread through the room like the echo of an old radio crackling, almost tangible in the gloom around them. The laughter was brief, but in it you sensed something that seemed more than mere amusement: there was a spark of recognition, as if he had been waiting for that question and was pleased that you had taken the first step to ask it.

—Ah, wow...— he replied, without losing his characteristic enigmatic tone.— Very perceptive. Yes, I come from that era, and I must say that it is a pleasure to know that my essence has not been forgotten, even in these... accelerated times.

His words carried with them a kind of covert nostalgia, a hint of melancholy that, though barely perceptible, made you feel that you shared something more than a common era. He too seemed to remember that time with a mixture of disdain and longing, as if what you had both left behind was something unattainable, but indelible.

Alastor would look at you with a renewed intensity, that same spark of genuine interest in his eyes that you had sensed before, but now even sharper. It was as if, in that simple confession, he had allowed you to glimpse a part of his being, a fragment of the person he had been in life. The tension between you became more intimate and meaningful, as if that small revelation had created an unspoken bond, an understanding that transcended time and space.

— And so do you, I see...— He continued, in a tone that seemed to slide like a dark caress.

Alastor did not look away, and in his smile there was a subtle satisfaction, an almost pleased expression.Alastor's statement took you by surprise, shocking your perception and bringing back memories you had long since relegated to oblivion.

Although you had met many personalities in hell, each from different eras, rarely had anyone immediately noticed your origin, especially in a place and at a time like that. Most souls, like you, adapted to the dizzying pace of modern times; but Alastor, on the other hand, seemed absolutely adamant about renouncing his roots, that 1930s essence that permeated his every gesture, his every look.

His revelation awakened in you a torrent of contradictory sensations. You had forgotten what it meant to be recognized by the era that, in life, defined you. You had become so accustomed to the present time that, strange though it was, the past felt distant. But now, in front of him, those memories took shape again, and a part of you recognized yourself in that deliberate nostalgia, in that resistance to the expiration of what once was.

Alastor kept his eyes on you, watching you with an intensity that seemed to scan beyond appearances. His smile, even more enigmatic now, contained a kind of quiet satisfaction, as if the fact that you shared that time had solidified a special bond. He seemed pleased, perhaps because, somehow, seeing in you an ancient essence reaffirmed his own.

—Curious, isn't it?—he commented, leaning slightly towards you, just enough for his words to come through as an intimate whisper.— There's something about those times that's impossible to forget. Although... I guess some people just decide to leave it behind.

His tone was a challenge, an invitation to explore the background of what he had left behind. And though you were tempted to reply, to offer a defense for having adopted the rhythms of the present, deep down you knew that would be an incomplete explanation.

In the reflection of his words there was a truth you could not deny: perhaps you had left that era behind in an attempt to fit into modern eternity. But as you looked at him, so steeped in his original essence, you wondered if, at some point, you had lost something fundamental in the process.

Yourself...

The jazz in the background changed to a slower tempo, as if the atmosphere itself sensed the intimate, melancholy tone of the conversation. The music seemed to envelop them in a cocoon of shadows and dim lights, a refuge where both could exist in the limbo of their own memories.

You decided to break the silence, feeling it was time to accept that truth he seemed to see so clearly.

— I think that, with time, one forgets what was... or, at least, decides to leave it behind so as not to become a prisoner of it.— you said, with a sincerity that surprised both you and him. You watched his face, looking for some sign of disagreement or approval, but Alastor simply looked at you, his expression thoughtful and unperturbed.

His recognition brought with it an unexpected flash: a blurred image of someone you once loved. A man who had shared a life with you before oblivion, someone whose features now seemed to reverberate in Alastor's face. His presence, his gaze, even the echo of his voice, seemed to evoke a strange familiarity, like a distorted reflection of that ancient love. Thoughts fragmented in your mind, mingling with past emotions, buried memories and contradictory feelings that, until then, you had not known still inhabited you.

Alastor, for his part, also sensed that disturbance in the peace he had carefully maintained over the years. Since you entered the room, something about you had captured his attention in a way he could not understand. He felt a persistent murmur, an echo of sensations that he had decided to bury some time ago, and that now seemed to crack the heart of indifference he had built around himself. That voice inside him, faint but constant, seemed to murmur to him that in you there was something more, something that was not limited to this night.

They were both silent, caught in that intangible connection that spoke to them of a past that could not be ignored. The notes seemed lower, deeper, like a whisper from their own unconscious, and the gloom of the room felt like a sanctuary where they could confess truths they had preferred to forget.

Finally, you dared to break the stillness, your voice barely a whisper, a truth torn from your soul without permission.

— You... you remind me of him.— the words escaped before you could stop them, revealing more than you had intended to share. Alastor narrowed his eyes, and for the first time, a spark of vulnerability peeked into his gaze. Not irritating; the sly expression that always disappeared, and in its place appeared something you hadn't seen before, a kind of recognition and an inner struggle that was evident to him.

—Him...?— he repeated, quietly, as if that revelation also disarmed him.The echo of your words seemed to reverberate in the room.

In his mind, Alastor also recognized something eerily familiar about you, something he had overlooked, perhaps deliberately. Memories crowded into his mind: images of someone who had also meant something important in his mortal life, of a time he had left behind, or so he had wanted to believe. But now, in front of you, it was as if that illusion of detachment was beginning to crumble.

Every word, every gesture, every glance seemed to open a small crack in the wall he had built around himself, revealing pieces of a past he had sealed with his own contempt.

Your words, almost whispered, echoed like a forgotten echo, unearthing emotions buried so long ago that you hardly knew they still belonged to you. A flurry of questions and feelings swirled in your mind, confused, uncontrollable. On impulse, your hand moved almost of its own accord, bringing your fingers to your mask. You felt each centimeter revealed expose a part of you that you had learned to hide, as if, in that moment, you were forcing yourself to face the truth you had tried to evade.

Alastor did not look away. Your every move seemed to capture his undivided attention, his eyes burning with an anticipation he could not mask. As you dropped the mask, you could see his face change subtly, reflecting emotions that seemed to find themselves for the first time in his cold, calculating presence. With every millimeter you revealed, you felt him approaching not in distance, but in time, as if you were both about to unveil something shared, a truth that had been waiting in silence.

When the mask finally fell, your eyes met his. You felt naked, exposed, and yet there was a serenity in the connection that formed in that meeting of gazes. Your eyes, now vulnerable, reflected an unfathomable melancholy, the same melancholy you found in his gaze that is only seen between two souls that share the same weight. It was a deep sadness, a mark of time and the lives they had left behind. In those eyes of Alastor, you recognized something more than a simple affinity; you saw a reflection of yourself, a familiar shadow, as if in some corner of the past their destinies had intertwined.

The room hung in a dense silence, filled with an unconfessed understanding, a recognition that both of you could barely hold. Alastor's gaze remained fixed on your naked face, free of masks, vulnerable before him. It seemed as if his eyes devoured every detail, seeking confirmation in every feature that could bring back the fragments of his dormant memory. In a corner of his being, a spark of nostalgia flared, timid flames that threatened to consume him in the storm of what he once was.

You, however, felt a violent bewilderment. Every scattered fragment of memory in your mind began to fit into patterns that were painfully familiar. You stood motionless, caught between disbelief and the bitterness of revelation. This demon before you, this being known for his cruelty and malice, bore in his eyes the reflection of a lost time that, in some corner of your soul, still burned like embers. His eyes, that very specific way with which he looked at you, brought up memories you thought buried, faces and sounds that now emerged with a clarity that stunned you.

Finally, you broke the silence with a broken and fragile voice, holding your head as if the intensity of those memories were tearing you apart.

—It can't be... you... is it really you?—you whispered, your tone full of bewilderment and pain.

Alastor, whose sharp smile seemed to be his trademark, now transformed it into a crooked line, full of bitter irony. There was pain in his face, yes, but also a hint of relief, a tacit acceptance that lent an unusual gravity to his presence.

—Oh, my dear...— he replied, his voice tinged with a mocking sadness, like a joke that only he understood.— In hell, everything is possible, don't you think. Perhaps this reunion was inevitable.

The tone of his words was so soft that the ironic notes seemed to envelop a heartbreaking truth, a confession to the media. That slight mocking smile, a shield against pain, blurred on his lips as he looked at you, and in the silence that followed, you both seemed to sink into the bitter irony of a love that had begun in secret and now, in hell, showed itself naked and without escape.

His fingers approached yours, trembling, but determined. It was a barely perceptible touch, but with the weight of a repressed eternity.

—After so much... is this all? — you murmured in a broken voice, a thread of resentment in your tone.—You were just a shadow in my memory, a love I never fully knew, someone who disappeared just like that, leaving me with nothing... Was that all for you?

Alastor held your gaze, your eyes now charged with a somber intensity, a restrained pain. Still, his fingers closed around yours, and his words came out low, laden with a sincerity that few had ever heard from him.

—You don't know how much I was waiting for this moment,— he whispered, and the confession was so unexpected, so raw, that you felt your own thoughts freeze. That soft voice, free of the radio effect that characterized him, was the same of the man you had loved, the one who spoke to you in whispers when all was silent. For the first time in an eternity, you felt that the man you loved was really in front of you, that the lost love still had a voice.

A sigh escaped your lips as a lone tear slipped down your cheek. The reality of his absence, of his departure, hit you with renewed force.

—And you don't know how much I feared you would come to remember all this.—he added, almost in a whisper, as if the weight of the confession might crumble him. It was a truth wrapped in fear, in years of darkness, in a loss he never admitted.

The room seemed to hold its breath as they were both caught in the echo of a love that had been interrupted by death, by time, by decisions neither could change. The void he left in your life now seemed to have been filled, but not without the scars of the past.

— Everything was so dark...— you whispered, your voice shaky and barely audible.— When I lost you, it was as if everything went out. As if only shadows and cold remained.

Alastor, without looking away, let his fingers caress your face with an almost sacred reverence, as if he still feared to lose you. In a soft, steady whisper, he replied:

—That darkness, that cold... they were the only thing that could have brought us here. Perhaps only from the shadows can I see you again.

His tenderness, so unexpected and genuine, caused your lips to trace a fragile smile, full of sadness and resignation. You both knew that the road had been dark and full of mistakes, and yet, in this strange destiny, you felt you had returned to the place where you had always belonged: together.

— When I lost you... how could I have imagined that I would see you again, and like this? —You confessed in a voice that seemed to contain a lifetime of pain, of unexpressed love.

He stepped back a little, understanding the weight of your resentment, of the doubt that still throbbed in your chest, and held you firmly, with the assurance of someone who was not going to let you go again.

—Cher... in life we didn't know how to escape. But here we are, and this time, no one can force us apart.— The promise in his words was so firm, so absolute, that they both felt in that instant that hell had brought them together as much as it had separated them.

The room, the time and the darkness seemed to vanish in the embrace that followed.

Everything you had lost and searched for over the years now enveloped you in an impossible relief. It was as if the weight of all those moments lived in each other's absence dissolved in a single instant, as if the eternity you shared in hell was the only truth you had been searching for.

And so, in the silence of the infernal night, they found in the silence of their own pain the only possible peace, and reflection of one in the other, the end of a love that had always been eternal.

Their souls had been searching for each other, until the end of eternity.

Night had fallen softly, covering New Orleans with a blanket of melancholy. The cobblestone streets echoed to the sound of dry leaves blown in swirls by the autumn wind. The air smelled of recent rain, a perfume of damp earth that already seemed part of the city's atmosphere of mystery and nostalgia.

In the distance, in a dark and discreet corner, stood a small old library, its facade barely illuminated by the dim glow of the lamps. Its appearance was that of a refuge forgotten in time, a place that few noticed and where those who sought it could find a secret peace. Here, far from the gaze of others, was where you and Alastor used to meet, two souls caught in a strange spell of proximity and distance.

As you entered, your heart beat faster than usual, as if anticipating something your mind could not yet name. You closed the door carefully, letting the silence settle around you, and your eyes roamed the shelves and shadows until you found the familiar figure of Alastor, in the background, by a window.

He was standing with a book in his hands, immersed in a dim light that seemed to accentuate the enigmatic air of his essence. He was dressed, as always, in his elegant, impeccable suit, and as he looked up at the sound of your footsteps, a sharp smile - so his, so full of secrets - illuminated his face. You felt a tingle in your chest, an unconfessable emotion that he always managed to awaken in you.

At first it was his voice that attracted you: that magnetic softness, enveloping, like a whisper full of power. But as time went by, you had been caught by something deeper and less understandable, something that bordered on the spiritual, as if on a hidden level you were irremediably united.

—Ah, finally. I thought you weren't coming today,— he said with that warm tone he used only for you, but there was something else in his voice, a hint of anticipation, as if tonight was different.

You walked towards him with a shy smile and stopped just a breath away. You took the book he was holding and, out of the corner of your eye, you felt his gaze fixed on you, intense, as if he was looking to read something you had not yet said.

—And what would you have done if I hadn't come?—you asked in a playful tone, though with a slight tremor in your voice. Something about him had changed in the last few days, he had become more distant, more elusive, and that aroused in you a growing uneasiness.

Alastor held your gaze, his expression serene but his dark eyes shone with something indecipherable, something that seemed to hold all the words he would never say. Slowly, he slid his hand over yours, removing the book and setting it aside.

—You would have left me here, alone... thinking of you.— he murmured, his voice barely a whisper laden with a weight you didn't understand.

A thick silence settled between the two of you, and before you could react, Alastor wrapped an arm around you, pulling you to him. It was a gesture that on the surface was casual, but deep down, it felt like an anchor, as if he was trying to hold on to something that, somehow, he was already letting go.

At that distance, Alastor's scent surrounded you: a mixture of smoke, mint and something darker, something undefined that filled your senses. In that instant, the world seemed to vanish, leaving only that space between the two of you, like a bubble suspended in time.

—I know almost nothing about you, Alastor...—you whispered, with a mixture of curiosity and sadness. Every time you tried to know something deeper about him, about his secrets, he slipped through your questions like a ghost, like a mystery that never let itself be revealed.— Why don't you ever talk about yourself?—you asked softly, hoping, almost begging, that this time he would let you see the man behind the enigma.

Alastor lowered his gaze, his expression becoming somber, but the smile lingered on his lips, a smile that never reached his eyes, as if behind it lurked shadows that were not yours to understand. She seemed to be torn between the words she wished to say and those she could not allow herself to reveal.

— Perhaps... some secrets are better left that way, my dear. Things are less... charming when they come out in the open.— His tone held an almost imperceptible bitterness, but you noticed the trace of pain she was trying to hide. He turned his gaze to the window, where the reflection of the two of them was projected in the gloom.— Sometimes... I like to think that as long as you're with me, nothing else is needed.

That confession was almost inaudible, but there was a fragility in his words that you had never seen in him before, a crack through which you barely managed to peek. You raised a hand and, with a delicate gesture, touched his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eye.

—No matter what you hide... The only thing that matters... is this moment.—you said with unexpected firmness. It was not so much a truth as a desperate promise, one that protected you from the certainty that someday he would vanish from your life like a dream.

For an instant, Alastor's face softened, and his fingers traced the outline of your face, as if he were trying to etch every detail into his memory. The world, the secrets, the danger... all disappeared in the touch of his lips, in a kiss that felt more like a farewell than a beginning.

You clung to him, feeling the warmth of his body, while he held you with a restrained intensity, as if, at that moment, you were the only thing that really mattered to him. Neither of you spoke of the inevitable, but in the silence of that small library, you both knew that that night would be your last.

Soon after, you said goodbye with a smile, and he, promising to return. You left before he did, but stood on the corner, watching him walk away. His footsteps echoed down the cobblestone street, and with each one, it seemed to you that he was taking a piece of your soul with him.

The next morning, rumors spread like a shadow over New Orleans: the infamous Bayou killer had fallen in a confrontation, felled by a burst of gunfire. You heard the news like a distant echo, never suspecting that the man they spoke of in horror was the very man you had secretly loved, the man who held in his breast darker secrets than you could have imagined.

In time, the memory of him began to fade into the shadows, like a dream you clung to in vain. It was only years later, in another time and another world, that you met him again, in the place where you were both destined: a corner of hell where souls crossed by darkness meet again, united by a cruel and unbreakable bond that not even death could break.

That time, you understood that destiny had sealed them together forever, with no possibility of redemption, no possibility of escape.

Omg.

This story was too sentimental for me, but after all, I loved the ending. I actually thought first of the scene of them being human and then moved to the moment of their reunion at speed dating, and I think it was a good result.

I really had this story ready, but due to time issues I delayed it too much, however, I hope you like it as much as I do. I also wish you a Happy Halloween, Hahahaha, bye ♡

[inchidentally]

do you ever think about the part of the mclaren lie detector video where Oscar asks Lando if he thinks he's the best looking driver on the grid and then is genuinely shocked when Lando says no (and is telling the truth)? or are you normal?

anon I'm so happy for you to take me back to when McLaren gave us youtube quality landscape landocar content

especially bc it means going back to when Oscar was caught between bursting over actually having Lando in his life almost every day and getting to just… Look At Him, while also trying to smother the fact that he's been a fanboy since he was fourteen and negotiating gaining Lando's respect while also not weirding him out. which only resulted in Lando feeling utterly thrown bc normally, men were perfectly happy to take Lando's bare neck in their teeth and shake him around just right - but Oscar just keeps Looking and Smiling and Lando cannot get a foothold !!

and ugh does Oscar have to look so radiant when he's smiling at Lando bc that just makes Lando even more confused !! Oscar's Just Guy in Shorts isn't he ?? why does he become incandescent like that when Lando is especially cute or funny ??

oh god anon you've prompted me to be truly unhinged in a separate post jfc