Adorable As Fuck - Tumblr Posts

I GIVE ANYTHING FOR THAT TO BE ME🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️🩷❤️

Clingiest Lion Ever.

Should I color this?? ASDFGHJKL Don't usually share unfinished pieces but should I do that more?

Lord this is so wholesome❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ Love mushy stuff like this🥰🥰

I love your stuff!!! Can I please have headcanons of Alastor and Angel Dust separately reacting to their completly asleep S/O cuddling closer to them and even maybe quietly saying their name while asleep.

this is so cute omg

Alastor:

He doesn't sleep as much as a normal demon does, so he just lays in bed with a book most of the time

You usually stick to your side, knowing that he doesn't like physical touch unless he initiates it

One night while he was reading and you were snoozing, you moved over and snuggled up to him

He jumped slightly as you curled up to him, throwing your arm around his waist

"Darling?" *cue you huffing and pulling him closer*

As you snuggled in deeper you mumbled something he didn't quite hear

"What?" *you mumbled a little louder in urgency*

He nudged you a little to see if you were actually awake

"Alastor, sweet lofmmm"

His dead heart felt like beating again as warmth bubbled in his chest and his smile grew fonder

He put the book down and carefully arranged you so your head was on his chest and his arm was around you

He held your hand to his chest with his other hand and kissed your forehead before falling asleep too

Angel Dust:

You two were flopped on a couch in the lounge area of the lobby, you laying on top of him with your head on his fluff

Three of his arms were around you while the fourth was holding his phone

He was casually scrolling Sinsta while you slipped into a nice nap

You mumbled something and snuggled closer while wiggling your arms to hold him tightly

He rubbed your back with one hand and felt a butterflies in his chest

Angel thought it was the cutest thing ever when you mumbled in your sleep

"Angel...wofen emmm"

You snuggled closer and he nearly dies again

He puts his phone down on the floor and brushes your head with the now free hand

Gently kisses your head and settles down for a nap himself

You wake like two hours later and it's a struggle to get out of the multiple arms (and one leg??)

Lucifer is such a fun loving character, loved how well you presented him in the story❤️❣️🐥

Lucifer Morningstar with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warning: language, ooc, possible spoilers from the first season of the 2024 show.

Special thanks to @tonightwrites for helping me with this piece! Enjoy :)

All right, maybe he is moving a little bit fast in falling back in love again but…well, Lucifer will admit that he can’t help himself. That’s just who he is. He’s passionate by nature, and it shows in the super amazing ducks he has created and how he helps Charlie in rebuilding her hotel. Not to mention you were so cute!

Sure, you’re a little stoic and didn’t have a cellphone, and he did mistake for a human, but that was okay! He thought it was amazing that you were able to grow almost anything in the hotel’s greenhouse! He had to see it to believe it; wire racks of pots in different shapes and sizes, all those flowers and fruits. There were even herbs nearly bundled up and labeled on a wooden table. It was all very meticulously, and everything was well taken care of. He couldn’t find a single sign of neglect. And a single person was responsible for it all? Holy shit. 

Charlie did reassure him that you were very much dead and a sinner. Why you still looked like a human and had freaky skeletal prosthetics, she had absolutely no clue. 

But the cherry on the top was how respectful you were towards him. I mean, when was the last time someone saluted and referred to him as His Majesty? And that look on the Radio Demon’s face when she curtsied to him, the king of Hell? Priceless. 

He did appreciate your honesty, not even holding back when you said that you weren’t sure if a rubber ducky would look all right with the new fountain in the greenhouse. But you did anyway, carefully laying it on top of the water. You looked at for a long moment, expressionless and calm before turning to him and saying that his little creation gave the greenhouse…a more peaceful ambience. 

You thanked him for his contribution, and went right to work, dressed in an apron with a watering can in your gloved hands. At least until the little maid Niffty came in with a big frown on her face, scolding you for trying to skip meals again. You looked at him for help…but unfortunately, he couldn’t help this time, gently pushing out of the greenhouse while Niffty tugged you by the hand. 

You might say that you are used to not eating to accomplish your tasks, though that growling tummy disagrees~!

Whenever he had time, he made sure you took breaks and would spend time with you in the greenhouse so you wouldn’t be lonely. He’d tell you stories, share what else he created, and how he’s been wanting to connect with Charlie for so long…yet was so scared and unsure of what he could say to her. Especially after Lilith left Hell without saying a word seven years ago. 

“The important thing is that you are here with her now and support her endeavors, Your Highness. I…did not have a family when I was alive…but I had friends. Friends who supported and loved me, for all the flaws I possessed.” You looked down at your hand, clenching it slowly into a fist. “It was because of them…that I understood many things about myself…and emotions I did not know I had. Grief. Gratitude. Empathy. Guilt. I was on fire, and I did not know it. But I killed many people during the Great War. I was a weapon. That will never change. However,” You then looked at him. “If I am able to accept that I cannot change the past, and find the courage to move forward…how can a sinner not be able to find redemption even if they are dead? I believe…in Charlie. What she is doing. You do too. And I am sure…she is grateful that you finally understand her.”

 If he hadn’t already been in love with you, this would definitely be the moment when he realized how felt towards you. And Charlie, his sweet, smart little girl knew too. 

That was probably why she pulled him aside one afternoon to privately speak in her office. She was obviously….a little freaked out. But he waited until she finished inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, eyes closed, clenching and unclenching her fists, whatever helped her calm down. She then looked him straight in the eye.

“Look Dad, I’m…happy that you’re happy. I mean, it’s really, really obvious that you like [First Name]. Now there’s nothing wrong with that, I’m okay!” She added quickly, waving her hands up and down frantically. “It’s…it’s been a long time since you and Mom split up, and I know you haven’t even thought about anyone else until now. Look,” She took in another deep breath. “I know how…enthusiastic you can get, but as the hotel’s founder and [First Name]’s friend slash employer…tone it down. The flirting, the dad jokes, and….the romance. I know, I know you love romance! But try to be considerate of [First Name], okay? She’s finally learning how to be a human and I don’t want her to feel pressured or uncomfortable or not understand what you’re doing because you’re moving too fast! She’s really, really oblivious! She doesn’t even know Alastor likes her!”

Lucifer stared at Charlie. “Wait…ARE YOU SERIOUS?! SHE-SHE DOESN’T EVEN KNOW -”

“Dad, please!” 

“IS SHE REALLY THAT CLUELESS?!”

“Yes.” 

To his dismay, you were. You had absolutely no idea that the Radio Demon was besotted with you. He tried to help you around the greenhouse too, invite you to listen to his broadcasts or walks around the nicer parks in the Pride Ring, all the boring stuff an old timer would think count as trying to be romantic. Nope. Nope, nope, this is not happening. Not on his watch!

He will win you over and promise Charlie that he won’t overdo it when he courted you. But could he at least show you how to make a super cool rubber ducky in his workshop, or take you out for a flight with you in his arms? That’s not overdoing it, right? 

…

Maybe? Or should he take you out for some caramel apple pancakes? 

Taglist

@alastorsgoldie

@food-theorys-blog

@sillypenguincats

@theunknowntravel3r

@vikkirosko

@nunezs-stuff

@lbcreations-blog

@imperfectbloodmoon

@crystalrose36

@nixie-writes

@isuckatwritingsobenice

@tired-of-life-86

@frompeach

@trecllllllll

@lanxianschoenheit

@riddle-simp

@22carolina08

@witch-of-the-writing-desk

@justamegafan

@vikkirosko

@chroniccorvus

@angelltheninth

@mary-v193

@chewbrry

@mmelionsblog

@ladymothbeth

@thatstonedwriter

@the-cat-queen-peasants

@anielly-2010

@victheauthor

@oucx

@satubby

@diamondzoey

@ladydoe8

@alyriaschoenheit

I wanna fall asleep in his arms🥰

Read Me to Sleep? Alastor x reader Fluff

Alastor x reader Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Nothing outside of canon typical

Summary: After a long, shitty day out and about you drag yourself home to the hotel to seek shelter and comfort in the one place you knew you could find it.

~~~~~<3

It was late when you finally dragged your ass up the walkway of the hotel. You expected the lobby to be deserted and it was. You were utterly exhausted as you crossed the hotel lobby, dragging your feet with every step.

It had been a day from hell, between turf wars and murders making your errands take twice as long. On top of everything, you had to fight off some handsy fuck who didn’t know who they were messing with. While you were busy, your shopping got lifted. 

 That was just as well, you told yourself as you slowly pulled yourself up the stairs and down the hall. It was better to just give up and try again tomorrow. Or next week. 

Slipping into the room you shared with Alastor, you were not really all the at surprised to see him still up, sitting in his armchair with a book in hand, coat discarded in favor of comfort in the privacy of his room. He never really seemed to sleep, always being awake when you drifted off and awake before you rose in the morning. His ever watching presence was a comfort as you let your guard down. 

His red and pink eyes glanced up from his book as you latched the door shut behind you with a soft click that seemed to echo in the quite room. The only other sounds were the soft jazz playing and crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

“You’re home late, my dear.” Alastor’s eyes ran over you as he lifted his arms from his lap, freeing space in a unspoken offer. 

“Long day,” you didn’t elaborate as you crossed the room, toeing off your shoes and slipping your jacket off and letting it fall to the floor. Usually Alastor would comment, lecture about care of clothing and space but tonight he held is tongue.

You crawled into his lap, melting into the warmth of him as you tucked yourself against his much larger frame. Under your head you could hear the steady beat of his heart. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Alastor asked as his hands rested around you, shifting you to sit neater in his lap. 

“Not really,” you answered, nestling yourself tighter against his chest, resting your hand against his chest. 

“What can I do for you?” Alastor asked, resting his cheek against the top of your head. 

“Read to me?”

“As you wish,” Alastor nuzzled the top of your head for a moment. You could almost swear a soft kiss was placed but with him, you could never be sure. 

He read from where he was, voice a low rumble accented by the radio overlay, just present enough to warm his words. As minutes slipped by, your eyes grew heavy and you breathing slowed. It became harder and hard to follow the plot of the story, let alone the meaning of the sentences. 

Soon the words themselves were lost to you. They became just another soothing sound along with the fire crackling, the thumping of his heart and the way his breath came, softly rocking you ever so slightly. The jazz floated through the air as each slow blink of your eyes came slower, lids lingering downcast for a few seconds more each time. 

Your eyelids didn’t open again, a soft sigh slipping between your lips as you decided to rest your eyes and listen to the story. What was the story about? Oh hell, you lost it. That’s alright. 

His voice sounded so good. He was so warm, all around you. The fire was cozy. 

You needed to get up, change and get ready for bed. You needed to do things. 

You needed to lay there and listen to the voice of home. The rest of it could wait, you decided as sleep overtook you. What was the point of being home if you couldn’t fall asleep in the arms of the man you loved? 

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty

OMG YES WE GOT THAT PART 2 THAT WE DESERVED❤️😍❤️😍❤️😍❤️😍I NEED PART 3 PLEASE, I BEG!!!!!!

Hello beautiful! Not only I just discovered your writing and binds read your entire master list … could I request a part 2 from the eye of the storm?

Maybe something like where the reader is worried about Alastor at night and she goes to comfort him. He asks her to tell him a story while she lays beside him but as he falls asleep he ends cuddling? Tysm and please take all the time you need💕💕💕

Your wishes are my command - I strayed a little from your idea, but I hope you'll like it nonetheless! It's angst and fluff, and a little sweet at the end! And of course, it leaves room for a possible (Spicy) Part 3? ;> Who knows?

This is the second part of a Mini-Series. Part 1: The Eye of the Storm is right over here.

Two weeks had passed since the night Alastor's nightmare almost tore the hotel apart. Your wounds, caused by the sharp claws of the demonic form of Alastor, had healed pretty well and were barely noticeable anymore, thanks to dutiful tending of Charlie and Niffty, except for the scar on your hip, still pink and sore. You didn't mind, though. It was a physical memento of a sacrifice made for someone you deeply cared about.

In fact, you had a hard time forgetting that night, because every time you looked at the scar, the image of the Radio Demon, hunched and sobbing on his bed, flashed through your head, and you felt your heart clench. He hadn't spoken much to you since then. He hadn't spoken much to anyone in the hotel, really. You tried to approach him, but he always seemed to find an excuse to get out of a conversation, or leave the room you entered. When you asked him if he was alright, he laughed it off and waved his hand, telling you it was not worth worrying about. You knew him enough by now to know it wasn't true. You also knew him enough to know that if you tried to push him, he'd retreat further.

So, you just observed him from a distance, the way his smile looked tired when he thought no one was looking, the way his laugh seemed hollow, his eyes dim and exhausted. Sometimes you'd catch him blankly staring at the wall or ceiling or a painting on the wall for minutes, before snapping back and continuing whatever task he was supposed to do.

"I'm worried about him, too."

Charlie was sitting beside you on the lounge set in the foyer, both of you nursing a cup of hot cocoa, while Alastor was preparing dinner in the kitchen, humming some melancholic tune that traveled through the closed door. "But I don't know how to help him. He doesn't seem like he's interested in opening up to me or the others, or talk about what happened. It's as if he's just... shut off."

You sighed, sipping from the drink. "Yeah. He's been getting slimmer too, and always looks so... tired."

Charlie nodded, and you exchanged a glance. "Is there any chance that... maybe he would open up to you? You seemed to have a connection to him more than we were ever able to have with him. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but I can't help but think he'd feel more comfortable around you."

"I tried, Charlie - he just... vanishes, before I can even finish a sentence... he avoids me. It's like he's running from me."

Charlie looked into the bottom of her mug, turning the now empty dish in her hands. "...Well, in times like this, we don't want the help. Especially if our pride is involved." she smiled warmly at you, her usual determination now back in her eyes. "But I know someone who would stop at nothing to help him."

Your footsteps sounded much louder in the silence of the night as you climbed the stairs up to Alastors suite. You glanced at the lights, remembering the green sheen and how the swirling shadows in the dimness had made your skin crawl. But the staircase was dipped in the usual golden light, nothing amiss, nothing scary. There was only a faint sound, almost like a static, hanging in the air. Alastors own wards and spell protecting his space, you were sure. Which left the possibility of him already knowing you were on your way. For a moment you hesitated - was it of use to go to him when he'd possibly already fled to evade you? A few nights ago you might've retreated. But after two weeks of watching your friend suffer, your determination prevailed, and you knocked, firmly and resolutely.

A second of silence. Then another one. You raised your hand to knock again when the door swung open - And Alastor stood before you, his grin in place, yet there was a sense of exhaustion seeping through his mask. He seemed taken off guard, obviously he wasn't expecting someone to come visit him late at night, so your prediction had been proven wrong. It was very rare to see the radio demon in anything else than his usual attire. But he was standing before you now, in a scandalously casual ensemble: A crimson robe over an open collared black pajama shirt showing some of his usually hidden, taupe fur, the silk tie loosely knotted at the waist, black matching trousers and without shoes.

"It's mighty late for a visit, dear." His voice held a sharpness and rough edge. But the tired, dull expression behind the grin was already crumbling when he gazed into your face.

"I wanted to see you. I'd noticed you weren't... doing so good after what happened."

He cast his glance everywhere but to you, avoiding your concerned stare. "I've told you before, your concern is absolutely unnecessary dear, I'm fi-" "Alastor, please." you interrupted, gently taking his wrist into your palm to halt his hand from waving his way out of the conversation. You looked at him, and he tried not to look at you, but slowly, oh so slowly, his gaze slipped back to your face, and his composure visibly started to crumble, his grip on his tactical expression slipping like sand through fingers. "I'm not here to judge you. Or to berate you. I'm worried."

He chuckled bitterly, closing the distance between you as his whole stance now seemed to curl. "Worrying is not necess-" "Probably." you shrugged, your hand sliding from his wrist to his cold fingers. "But friends worry, when they see the person they care about suffer." "Friends are a bother." his eyes flickered. "That's true. And yet they care."

He let his head bow forward, and suddenly he reminded you so much of that dark, trembling creature you found on his bed two weeks ago. You never thought the powerful Radio Demon would allow himself to appear like this in front of someone consciously. But maybe you weren't just someone... to him. The thought made your pulse flutter.

"I find myself unable..." Alastor started, his eyes staring at your intertwined hands. "...to find rest these days. I don't feel the need to sleep as frequently as your fellow residents, but... the incident, the dream, what happened - it seems it has rattled me more than I care to admit. What you did for me and what I did to you in return..." He chuckled, but it sounded much weaker, lacking his usually cheerful mockery as his free hand hovered over the side of your waist where the fresh scar sat under your clothes. "The thought of it being repeated feels unbearable."

"That's why I'm here." You squeezed his hand. "I've seen you at your worst and still came back, because I wanted to tell you that I'm neither weary nor scared. And that you don't have to bear this burden alone, Alastor. Please... let me help you."

The Radio Demon stood still, and for a moment you thought he'd retreat again, but then his shoulders relaxed, and the grin melted into a small, tired smile. His hand tightened on yours and he sighed. "Well then, come inside."

As you stepped into the familiar room, you noticed the difference immediately. The curtains were drawn, the lamps were on and the record player was playing quietly, a melancholic jazz piece filling the silence. Alastor had done his best to keep the memory of that night away by repairing the walls and furniture and replacing the shredded bedding and mattress of his bed with brand new ones. So new in fact, they looked like they were never touched.

"Please, take a seat." he gestured to one of the two wing chairs by his fireplace, now burning in warm oranges and scarlets rather than the eerie green you remembered, and as you settled down he joined you in the other opposite to you. The silence hung between you for a moment, neither of you really knowing what to say next. He was intently watching the flames dancing on the scorched wood, and you studied his profile, the soft, dark fur of his ears, his thin, elegant nose and the deep crease between his eyebrows. You had never seen him lower his guard this much. Well, that wasn't quite true - once, in this very room, although under much different circumstances. You could see his hand, resting on the arm of the chair, twitch as if it were fighting an impulse.

"It's funny, isn't it?" he started, his voice a bit too light. "I'm a powerful entity in hell, able to rip and tear and destroy. A feared, powerful, dangerous overlord. And yet I seem to be rendered helpless by my own mind. Laughable, really."

"I'm not laughing." you said quietly, and his head turned towards you, a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement in his expression.

"Indeed you are not."

"And I think you are far from helpless." You continued, a small smile appearing on your face as you watched a little flame wind itself from a knothole, gaining volume and fizzing strongly. "I've never met a demon as strong-willed and determined as you, Alastor. I think the reason it has been affecting you so badly, is because you have power over everything else. But when it comes to the things happening inside your own head - when you are asleep - you aren't in control, and that can be terrifying."

His gaze was fixed on your face, the crimson of his irises shimmering and flickering. He looked... intrigued. And, something else. Something softer, that made your heartbeat a little faster.

"You are... a fascinating thing." he hummed, and his fingers started to drum on the armrest, his other hand fidgeting, still fighting that strange, hidden urge. "You seem to... calm me. With your mere presence, it feels... soothing. The thoughts of that night don't vanish, but they lose their grip. Like the tempest in me is being tamed." "Is that a bad thing?" you asked, a bit puzzled, and a bit amused.

"Yes and No." He answered, quickly and without hesitation. "I don't depend on others. It's unreliable. Too many factors are involved, and when you care about someone, it means you leave them with the ability to hurt you." His hand was tapping faster. "That sounds like a lonely existence." "Loneliness is the most reliable thing of them all. But..." he sighs and follows your gaze back to his fireplace. The small flame grew into a strong blaze, swishing and crackling loudly now. "...It is also the most draining. And I have to admit that I'm thoroughly exhausted, dearest."

"I'll stay with you tonight." You whispered, leaning forward and reaching out to take his restless hand. The motion surprised him, his eyes snapping back to you. "If you want to." He stared at your hand on his, the fire reflecting on his ruby eyes, and slowly, the twitching and drumming subsided, and his fingers curled around yours, a small squeeze.

"I believe I'd be glad for the company." he uttered.

For the next half an hour or so, you sat with Alastor in comfortable silence, both of your eyes on the flames and hands still intertwined as the jazz faded into blues, slow, melancholic and calm until the fire died down. Sometimes, his thumb drew little circles on the side of your hand, and you took it as an encouragement. His face was back to its tired state, though he didn't seem quite as guarded and withdrawn anymore. When there was nothing more than faintly glowing logs in the ember bed, you shifted your weight and gave his hand a careful tug. "Do you think it's time?"

He swallowed audibly and his eyes closed. "I suppose so." he smiled tightly, rising and pulling you up with him, and you both walked over to his gigantic bed, draped with fresh crimson sheets and matching duvets, untouched, spotless, pristine. He stopped before the side of the bed and for a few moments - he stared down, his grip on your hand almost painfully tight now. You tilted your head, giving him a reassuring smile.

"If you're uncomfortable about sharing the bed I can pull over one of the chairs, I don't mind..."

"Absolutely not." he turned his head, and you could see how flustered his expression was now. "Ah - I mean... no, dear, that's alright."

You left his side and rounded the bed, lifting the duvet without looking at him as you shuffled out of your slippers. If you were honest, you felt just as awkward as Alastor looked, not to mention nervous and anxious and a lot of other complicated things. But you'd be damned to show that now, and risk him retreating. So you settled in, slipping your legs under the heavy covers. They felt just as comfortable as they looked.

You noticed him hesitating on his side of the bed, unmoving, his hands halted at the knot of his robe. You adamantly looked away from him, overly interested in the obscure knick-knacks that were scattered in the cupboards on the opposite wall - it was clear he was struggling to shed his clothes in front of you, even if it was only an overcoat. You heard an airy, quiet chuckle and fabric rustling, felt the duvet lifting again and then a weight dipped the mattress next to you. You could feel Alastor shifting and settling, could hear the shallow, anxious breaths and were aware that his eyes were burning on the side of your head, and you realized that he, too, was doing a valiant job at keeping his composure. You leaned back into the pillows, then he snapped his fingers and there was silence. And darkness.

At the lack of light in your vision, your senses heightened and you took everything in much more intently. His body heat close, his breathing next to you, his faint scent of smoke and herbs surrounding you. How small the space between your bodies was, the last remaining inch a gaping ravine in your mind. The mattress dipped as his body turned, facing yours and now his eyes were right there, glimmering and deep red in the pitch black darkness, following your every movement as you shifted too. You felt your heart hammering loudly and you could almost hear the blood rushing through your body. And you knew Alastor could hear that. Hear your quickened breathing. Feel the warmth of you just as you felt his.

There was a tense, terrifying moment, stretched endlessly until your eyelids fluttered shut - you heard, as much as you felt, the bed dipping under his shifting body weight, and suddenly, the ravine was filled by him and he was all around you, pulling you in sort of a protective embrace as you were surrounded by his warmth. Your head fell against the base of his throat as he tucked your face into the crook of his neck, a shaky sigh leaving him as he wrapped his limbs around you. The sudden proximity caught you entirely off-guard - you knew Alastor had a deep aversion against close physical contact. The hand holding had been a huge success for you, a sign that his trust for you went beyond the ordinary. You had been fully prepared to honor a discreet distance between you and him as to not make him feel more uncomfortable, but to pull you so close like this, voluntarily at that, initiated by him, made you go rigid in nervousness at how to react to it. You could already feel him retreat, that awkwardness from before already flooding back between you as he felt your body stiffen.

"Aah... my apologies, dear, I didn't mean to get so..."

Your reaction was instant, almost instinctively, body already knowing what your mind still was figuring out. Your hands slid around his slender waist as you pulled yourself closer to him, since you believed actions spoke louder than words to soothe the conflict he was battling. One leg came to rest between his, you felt his hips brushing against yours, and your palm came to rest in between his shoulder blades and you buried your face into the warm fur of his throat, and all tension left him, as another, heavier, long-drawn sigh rumbled through him, and he curled his form back around your smaller frame.

"If I'll return to the dreams that caused such havoc..." he mumbled quietly, his tone unusually wavering. "Then I'll get you out again and help Niffty clean up the mess." "Silly girl, absolutely ridiculous." his breath tickled against your ear, but he sounded lighter already. More like his usual self.

His leg entangled between yours, the limb as muscular as his chest and shoulders had always hinted at. His hand was tracing shapes and unknown symbols onto your back, and you wondered if it was a form of spellcasting to keep you safe while sleeping. But whether it was, or just unconscious movements, the gesture alone was making your heart flutter. The fact that it was his very real, very physical, very touchable chest and hands that were pressed onto your barely clothed skin, providing the soft massaging, and the warm, comforting sensation of his body heat against your own - it was exhilarating and overwhelmingly, absurdly, beautifully intimate.

Friends.

You wondered if that word could describe you and the radio demon. There was something... so much more, at least in your head. So much deeper. He meant something different to you than the others, Vaggie, Charlie - something special. A deep emotional pull, an urge to always seek and - absurdly, knowing he was who he was - to protect, the need to understand. To care and to comfort and to feel his presence at your side. An inevitable, chaotic and maybe even borderline obsessive attraction you couldn't and didn't want to escape. It had already become evident to you, especially in these past two weeks, that you felt something deeper for the demon everyone in the hotel was so wary about. He was special to you, yes, an anchor in a world that could throw any horrible thing at you at any given time, a world that wasn't trustworthy nor consistent. But in a weird twist of fate, he was. To you, he was calmness, security, trust, consistency... happiness.

"...Alastor?" You murmured quietly into the darkness, feeling his cheek come to a rest on the side of your head.

"Yes?" he breathed back, voice laced with drowsiness. His hand kept its rhythmic circling motions on your back, and you realized there was a good chance for you both to drift into a blissfully undisturbed slumber like this, which would make waking up in each other's arms so much easier than the alternative.

"I... You're..." But as soon as you wanted to tell him, to say it out loud, words eluded you. Every sound, every combination of syllables suddenly seemed wrong, sounded stupid, like a horrendous mistake. Your heartbeat quickened and you felt a lump in your throat, your feeble courage battling with your cowardice as the idea of giving this whole idea up, putting those dangerous feelings aside and trying to suppress and pretend they never existed for the sake of preserving your one true friendship, fought back with everything it could muster.

It was such a terrifying leap. And wouldn't it be selfish? To burden him with your feelings, to most likely ruin the bond you had with him right now, which made both your lives better with a companionship so rare. Such an utterly idiotic, thoughtless move.

"Darling..."

You could feel a finger push your chin up and his lips were suddenly a hair's breadth from your own, his nose brushing yours and his warm breath ghosted over your skin. How easy would it be to close the gap now, fill that tiny remainder of space with your mouth and he would finally know what you were about to say. The mere thought made your stomach tingle and your breath tremble, you were aching for any form of confirmation that it would be okay, okay to have feelings for him. You'd accept anything he'd give you, even if it wasn't everything you yearned for - you'd take anything he was ready to offer.

"... isn't your principle that actions speak louder than words?"

A blink in the darkness. A gasp into the silence. And then he was finally closing the space between your faces.

Lips - soft and pliable, moving against yours. Tender, soft, firm pressure. A kiss that said everything words would never manage to convey. Your fingers clawed into the silky fabric of his shirt, your nose pressed against his jaw, tears brimming and stinging behind your eyes as you sighed deeply, relief crashing over you and bliss taking hold. It could've lasted for eternity and still would've ended too soon as he gently pulled away, leaving one more short, lingering touch to the corner of your lips.

"Now let's rest. We shall continue this discussion in the morning." he murmured tiredly as his hand resumed its massaging, this time brushing underneath the hem of your shirt as he settled back into his initial embrace. You laid in his arms for minutes with your heart still racing, but now you could hear and feel his too, drumming in his chest. Two rhythms, beating in wonderful, chaotic harmony.

"Sweet dreams." you managed to whisper, sleepily and content as his breathing flattened, his static quieted and his hands came to rest unmoving at the curve of your back.

And with a long, final sigh, the Radio Demon drifted into deep, calm, undisturbed sleep.

This was super sweet and soft and omg-faints.

Wish I was this reader right now!!!❤️🩷❤️🩷

Hello Anonnie, thank you for feeding the great Vexitober 2024. I also had a headache today, so this was an incredibly self-indulgent piece. I hope you'll see your dentist soon, 'cos things are about to get tooth-rotting fluffy.

Pain pulsed relentlessly through your skull, like a hammer repeatedly striking, each throb sending waves of agony through your temples. It wasn’t just your head, though – the stabbing sensation behind your eyes made it feel as if a thousand daggers were tearing through them.  

You whimpered softly, curling up on your side in a tight fetal position, your ears flattening painfully against the back of your head. Even your small, normally perky tail dropped, pressing against your body as if trying to shield you from the unbearable ache.  

This was Hell in its truest form. Wasn’t this place supposed to be torture for your soul? You’d never thought that meant literally headaches that felt like they could split your skull open. Could souls even get headaches? Apparently so, because the searing pain you were enduring right now was unlike anything you’d experienced in life. It was as though the universe had decided to answer your rhetorical question with a sliver platter of misery.  

A sudden, lively burst of static followed by a too-cheerful voice shattered what little peace you’d managed to carve out. “Good morning, my little doe!” Alastor’s familiar, crackling tone cut through the air like a sharp knife. Normally, the sound of his voice would send a thrill of excitement through you, his energy infectious and wondrous. But right now, it was nothing short of torture. You let out a high-pitched whimper, your ears pressing harder against your head as if you could block out the noise.  

You burrowed deeper into the blanket, pulling it up over your head in a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the light, the sound, the world. But nothing could block out Alastor, not when he had his sights set on you.  

The mattress dipped as he sat down beside you before you heard the rustle of your blankets. A moment later, his face appeared, his mischievous red eyes glowing from underneath the covers. “Oh, darling, you’ll have to do better than that if you want to hide from me.” His grin widened, as smug as ever, his amusement palpable even in the low light.  

You pouted, squeezing your eyes shut as the pain surged again, sharp and unwelcoming. “Alastor, please…” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “My head…it hurts so much. Can’t you just let me rest for a little while?” Your hands came up to cradle your face, fingers pressing against your temples in a futile attempt to massage away the ache. But the pain didn’t subside. It only worsened, making you feel small, vulnerable, and utterly helpless.  

“Oh, darling,” Alastor cooed, his voice soft yet dripping with that ever-present playfulness. His slender fingers wrapped around your wrists, gently but insistently pulling them away from your face. You blinked up at him, surprised by the tenderness in his touch, expecting something more teasing, more dismissive.  

Instead, he squirmed his way into your makeshift blanket fort, wriggling closer until he was lying next to you on his side, his body warm and solid against yours. His crimson eyes locked onto yours, but this time they weren’t filled with the usual mischief. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead gently against yours, and you shivered as strands of his hair brushed against your cheeks, tickling you with their softness.  

“Can you make the headache go away?” You whined softly, your voice small, fragile. It felt almost childish to ask, and you half-expected him to laugh, to make some cheeky remark about walking off the pain, as if a little stroll around the town would solve everything.  

But to your surprise, his eyes softened even more, and instead of teasing, he nuzzled the tip of your nose with his. The affectionate gesture was so out of character, yet so heart-melting sweet, it made your chest tighten with warmth. “My, and here I thought you were just trying to shirk away from your cleaning duties today,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper. “You really must be in pain, darling.” 

You scoffed, though there was no real bite behind it. “I’d much rather clean than deal with this awful headache,” you muttered, closing your eyes tight, trying to will the pain away. It throbbed persistently, but Alastor’s closeness offered a strange sort of comfort, his presence like a buffer between you and the agony.  

Suddenly, you felt the warmth of his hand as they cupped your cheek, his touch feather-light but grounding. His fingers slowly drifted down, tracing the line of your jaw, then brushing softly against your neck before resting in the crook of your shoulder. The weight of his hand was soothing, almost as if he could absorb some of your pain. “Can you sit up, darling?” He asked softly, his voice a gentle coaxing, not the usual commanding tone you were used to.  

Your eyes fluttered open, momentarily thrown off by the tenderness in his voice. Alastor – being gentle? It was a rare sight, but one that sent a ripple of warmth through you. Nodding slowly, you pushed yourself up from the bed, feeling the weight of your headache still pressing down but slightly less suffocating.  

As soon as you were upright, a sudden shift occurred – his shadows, inky and alive, coiled around you in a silky embrace. Before you could react, the world around you blurred and changed. In the blink of an eye, the soft blankets of your bed were replaced by the cool, marshy grass of Alastor’s bayou. You were in his room, specifically on the side of his pocket dimension where the air was always thick with the scent of earth and wood, and the stars above twinkled like diamonds against the forever-evening sky.  

You blinked, disoriented for a second, but the moment passed when you felt him behind you, his presence solid and reassuring. Alastor had positioned himself with his legs stretched out, encasing you within the circle of his body, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders. Slowly, with a gentleness that seemed foreign to him, he began to knead the tension out of your muscles, his long fingers working in small, firm circles.  

“Oh,” you gasped, the sound escaping before you could stop it, your body melting into his touch. Your eyes fluttered half-closed, a hazy warmth spreading through you as the tension in your muscles slowly ebbed away. His hands moved with surprising skill, untying knots you hadn’t even realized were there, each press of his fingers sending a soothing wave of relief through your body.  

When he pressed a particular spot – right between your upper spine and just below your neck – you couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped you, your head falling back against him. The sensation was blissful, his fingers working wonders on the tightness in your shoulders and neck. “Y-you’re really good at this,” you mumbled, shivering as his fingers found another knot and worked it loose with practised ease.  

“I would hope so,” Alastor hummed, his voice low and smooth, with just the faintest edge of something possessive. “After all, only I know what my little doe needs.” There was a protective, almost territorial note in his voice, one that made your heart skip a beat.  

It wasn’t just the physical touch that made his words sink deep – it was the way you fit so perfectly into his world. You were one of the few deer demons in Hell who not only tolerated butthrived in his eccentric, chaotic company.  

He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “I can’t have my darling in pain,” he murmured, his hands never ceasing their gentle massage. “Especially when I’m the only one who knows how to make you feel better.” His tone was playful but layered with sincerity, a strange and intoxicating mixture of affection and mischief.  

His fingers slid up through your hair, claws barely grazing your scalp as a wave of tingles surged down your spine, leaving warmth and comfort in their wake. The sensation sent your tail into a gentle rhythm, pat pat patting against the grassy ground as you melted under his touch. Every scrape of his claws ignited a sense of pleasure you hadn’t realized you craved until now.  

“My,” Alastor’s voice dropped to a low, sultry tone, his breath hot against your nape. “You must really enjoy this, don’t you?” The teasing edge in his voice was unmistakable, and you could practically hear the smirk hidden in his words. His chuckle was soft, poorly masked behind the affectionate taunting, sending another shiver through you.  

“It’s not just me who enjoys this,” you huffed, your voice taking on a playful lilt as you tilted your head back slightly, hoping to guide his claws to that one perfect spot near the base of your fluffy ears. “You like it when I do this to you too, Alastor.” You sighed contentedly, the tension in your body easing as his claws finally grazed that elusive spot. His index finger trailed up gently, scratching just at the base of your left ear. 

Every time his claw scraped the sensitive cartilage, your ear twitched in response, and you found yourself leaning back against him more fully, savouring the warmth of his broad chest behind you.  

Alastor hummed, a low vibration that you could feel in the way his cheek rested on top of your head. His breath fanned through your hair with each exhale, carrying the faintest scent of something earthy and metallic. “I suppose I do enjoy it,” he mused, the words a soft hum against your ear. “But, darling, you don’t pamper me nearly enough. Why, I should be asking you to indulge me so!” His voice lifted, taking on a playful, dramatic tone that made you snort.  

You barked out a laugh, but the sudden movement sent a sharp stab of pain through your head, reminding you that the headache still lingered beneath the comfort. You hissed softly, wincing as the ache flared again, though it was noticeably dulled thanks to Alastor’s efforts.  

“Oh dear,” Alastor tutted, his voice dropping to something soft and almost chastising. His arms snaked around you, looping over your chest before pulling you down with him to the cool, marshy grass of the bayou floor. His warmth enveloped you as your back pressed against him, and despite the coolness of the evening air, the heat radiating from his body kept you wrapped in cozy contentment.  

In the distance, the soft croak of frogs and the hum of crickets filled the air, a soothing backdrop to the intimate bubble you both shared.  

With a gentle tug, he repositioned you so that your face was nestled against his chest, his legs tangling lazily with yours. The world seemed to slow down, and you felt your pulse start to sync with the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your ear. “Alastor?” You mumbled, trying to lift your head. But before you could fully raise yourself, his hand pressed softly against the back of your head, urging you to lay back down.  

“Shh, darling,” his whispered, his voice softer now, almost protective. “Just rest.” His fingers began to stroke through your hair again, the slow, repetitive motion sending waves of comfort and peace over you. With each gentle brush of his hand, it felt as though he was physically pulling the tension and pain away, little by little. 

You let out a soft sigh, surrendering to his touch as you relaxed fully against him. Your ears twitched at the soothing thud of his heartbeat. “It’s just a headache,” you murmured sleepily, your body going limp against him as the warmth and scent of him – of metal, earth, and something distinctly Alastor – enveloped you. “Hardly an illness.” You nuzzled further into his chest, inhaling deeply, letting the familiar, comforting scent ease the last remnants of pain away.  

“It’s too late for me, I’m already contaminated,” Alastor declared dramatically, his voice suddenly bursting with theatrical flair. “I suppose we’ll have to be quarantined here together, won’t we?” His chuckle was soft, turning into a wistful sigh as he relaxed further, his arms tightening around you protectively.  

You giggled softly at his antics, the sound vibrating against his chest. His dramatics never failed to make you smile, even in moments like this. His hand continued its slow, soothing stroke over your head, his touch like a balm against the sharp edges of the lingering headache. The pain, though still present, had dulled to a manageable hum, and soon, the gentle rhythm of his hand combined with the steady beat of his heart lulled you closer to sleep.  

“Together,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyelids grew heavier. The stars above twinkled softly, the night sky in his bayou serene and timeless. The world felt small and safe here, nestled in his arms, the pain fading into the background as sleep pulled you under.  

The last thing you felt before drifting off was the tender brush of Alastor’s hand stroking through your hair, and the soothing rise and fall of his chest beneath you – a steady, comforting lullaby in the heart of the bayou.  

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