#ADMITTEDLY IT KIND OF MADE IT WORSE??

[meowww-ffxiv]

Mordred never did understand Zenos, even to the end. An existence like that was unfathomable to him. To clearly be capable of a kind of consummate love that it drove you to the far edge of the universe in pursuit of that spark of light you saw once, and only once -- the Warrior of Light, your adversary, the only one you feel enough of a connection to that you call him "friend" -- yet to feel nothing but dreary emptiness?

Still, he recognized what it was that Zenos offered him, what he meant by everything he did. Like yeah dude got no inhibitions and no reason to live so it wasn't like he gotta deal with his own fear etc. etc. to spaceship-fly himself to Ultima Thule. But that which drove him. Mordred understood.

It had driven Haurchefant to put himself between Mordred and a spear. It had driven G'raha across time and space to refute a future where Mordred would not survive. It had summoned Emet-Selch back, when Mordred faced Elidibus and was cast into the void. Something almost too raw and frightening to be called "love" but there it was.

Shattering the illusion of nihilism and despair. Transmuting a fated defeat to an absurd victory.

"At the end of everything I find you, my friend."

[aw-bean-s]

I think I got possibly the absolute worst outcome for the tribunal you could possibly get and then slept from 12pm to 7pm

[good-night-space-kid]

.

[notmoreflippingelves]

One of these days, I'm gonna be in a fandom where my OTP is the fandom-preferred OTP. I mean, it hasn't happened yet, and I feel its gonna end up being a one-and-done for me, given my track record. But I have to believe it will happen.

And that when it does, I am going to make every effort not to forget my lonely "only curr about the rare pair" roots by actively trying to be nice and encouraging and welcoming to all the rare pair shippers who only ship other pairings instead. Yes even the ones that I personally find boring and/or distasteful and/or "too problematic for me."

[tokoyamisstuff]

Delicate

Homelander x F! Reader

Summary: You and Homelander have been official for a while now, but you have yet to understand why things never went beyond a certain line.

Warnings: slight angst, slight manhandling, somnophilia, masturbation, explicit smut, praise kink, dirty talk, oral sex

A/N: not proofread as always bc I cringe at my own writing. take it or leave it

Homelander had never learned how to be gentle.

Of course he knew how to touch someone without breaking them if necessary, but there's limits to his self-restraint. Especially when it came to the intimate kind of encounter.

This sadistic side of his was an expression of his desperate need for control, an inability to truly let himself fall and be vulnerable with another person.

For decades his mantra was that normal humans only exist for supes' - and mostly his - entertainment. Your weakness was his thrill, the sheer difference in power so ridiculously high that you might as well be filthy bugs - and Homelander was like a cruel child with a magnifying glass.

Usually his mates were supes themselves and even they could barely handle his violent urges, but you are a mere human. So fragile and precious that it terrified him at times.

What if he loses control in the heat of the moment? What if he breaks you? Or even worse: What if you see him for the monster he really is and run away like everyone eventually does?

A while ago Homelander heard the story about Ice Princess' fling, some Vought employee nobody. She accidentally froze his penis off during climax. Hilarious, honestly. The first time he heard this story he had a very good laugh, and he still can't look that guy in the eye without cackling when he passes him in the hallways.

But now, being romantically involved with one of those weaklings himself, the possibility of something similar happening to you made his stomach turn...

...but of course, as Homelander always does, he chose to ignore the problem at hand instead of addressing it.

Why bother with an unpleasant conversation if he can just prolong this innocent, chaste bond for as long as possible? He'd rather have you like this than unnecessarily putting you into harm's way.

You on the other hand slowly but steadily grew impatient with your boyfriend.

At first you thought he was merely being chivalrous, but it's been three months and still nothing. He's famous, so you had involuntarily learned about his past affairs - and he's definetly not old-fashioned.

Then why is he hesitating so much?

Most of the time you don't dare talking about what's bothering you, simply because any issue of yours seemed so insignificant compared to the horrible things John's been through.

Admittedly, he once literally lasered a guy's head into mush just for throwing a can to his son's head. So while his reactions can be a bit unpredictable, John cares so deeply about the few people he loves that you want to spare him any more trouble.

Unhealthy way of handling things, admittedly.

Last week you had planned it all out: What you could only describe as the perfect date was supposed to continue in his apartment, and you could literally see all blood flow from his brain to nether regions as you entered the bedroom in finest lingerie.

Anyways, you had initiated several times up until now, and initially he'd always go along with it. However as soon as your make-out-sessions turn more heated, he'd abruptly end them and practically storm off.

Everything went so well at first, with you straddling his waist and tentatively grinding against his lap. His hands moved against his will as his resolve crumbled, finding the curves of your body and relishing in the feeling of your exposed skin under his gloves. His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to go all out, fearing dangerous consequences.

A proper dosage of pain can function as aphrodisiac, at least in your opinion. So you didn't tell him to stop, in fact your senses were too clouded by desire to even notice the way his fingers dug into the cushion of your hips.

Yet there was just the tiniest microexpression, just the fraction of a second where your heart sped up and your face contorted in pain...

...and Homelander, shocked with himself, threw you so frantically off of his lap, you landed face firsr on the floor instead of the bed.

Against all reasoning, you laughed hysterically at his not-so-subtle rejection, and god knows you'll tease him about it until forever. But also, understandably, on the inside you were as hurt and confused as never before.

Doesn't make it any better that your boyfriend had been avoiding you like you were the goddamn pest ever since.

Just like today, when Homelander comes home to you way past midnight, double checking with his x-ray-vision whether you were already fast asleep.

John was aware that this topic has been tormenting you for a while now, and while he never intended to hurt you - quite the opposite, really - he also clung to this pleasant illusion he had created with you.

Lucky at cards, unlucky in love, or so they say.

The course of his life had convinced him that all remotely good things happening to him will be taken away again. A farce prepared by destiny itself just to mock him, maybe evening out the scales since he had been blessed with too much power.

On days as shitty as this one however, nothing compares to having someone to come home to - even when he made sure that you weren't awake to confront him. He tosses his boots aside, grateful for you to be a sound sleeper as they fell to the floor with a loud thump.

Your boyfriend's heart sinks as he pulls up the blanket, being greeted by a handprint-shaped bruise on the side of your hip. Seems like it still hurts too much to sleep on that side. His fingertips run over the dark purple-ish mark, a pained groan escaping your throat when he gives in to the temptation to squeeze your ass.

He really is the worst.

Homelander freezes until he's certain you continue sleeping undisturbed, the sound of his own heart hammering against his chest drowning out all other noise. His palm is still lingering on your body, running up and down your sides and earning relieved sighs in return.

Before you'd feel his excitement too much, he manages to tear his body away from you, his erection twitching painfully as he rolled onto his back.

John really had pure intentions when he embraced you from behind, simply wanting to distract himself and fall asleep while cradling you in his arms - yet instead his already hard cock buries itself neatly between your thighs, the friction making him utter vile things.

Damn it Y/N, why the fuck do you always sleep in underwear only?! Is it to taunt him or to test his limits? Because it's working.

A breathy moan escapes his lips as he spread his legs wide, cock already leaking precum when he ran his thumb across the slid. He grabs it fiercely, pumping hard to make quick work of it, while roaming every inch of your skin he can get his other free hand on.

"Need some help with that?"

Shit.

ShitshitshitshitSHIT!

Seems like he was a little too busy with getting off - so much that even his heightened senses didn't catch you waking up to this scene. Your boyfriend had a habit of sleeping naked, so right now there was none of what he did left to the imagination.

"Heyyy sweetheart..." John tried to put on his trusty showman attitude, an awkward grin stretched across his face while trying to cover himself with the next best pillow. "Sorry babe, didn't wanna wake you up. Just go back to slee-"

"And miss out on the show?" you chuckle half-sleepily and he wants to die. He's done worse things in his life, way worse to be precize - so why is he fucking shy nowy just because you caught him? "Aww, you're blushing." He contemplates lasering your lips together to make you shut up.

"C'mon, John, I know you're holding back for some reason, but we don't have to go all out." Shuffling closer to your boyfriend, you give him those damn doe-eyes he can never say no to. "And I'd love to lend you a hand, if you know what I mean."

John instinctively closes his eyes as your face moves closer, lips eagerly awaiting yours...

...but just when you were about to touch him, he takes a hold of your wrist. "Y/N, I-" he shakes his head, trying to regain his composure. "Just- just let me go to the bathroom, okay?"

You frown. Worse, the humiliation makes tears dwell in your eyes. Pushing your partner is wrong, but without context you really start doubting yourself here.

Suddenly the stench of fear was lingering in the air, and your heart starts racing like a hummingbird. Trying to calm yourself was a fruitless attempt in front of a man that could perceive almost anything, even your pathetic strangled sobs.

So he was right: You're afraid and maybe even disgusted by his behavior, and just offered yourself to placate him.

Maybe he should just snap your neck to escape the inevitable heartbreak.

"A-Are you cheating on me?"

"Huh?" That question caught him off guard. He was prepared to hear anything, seriously all kinds of insults or accusations, but that? "Are you dense? Why the fuck would I cheat on you?"

And that's when it dawns on him: You are scared - but not of him.

To your defense, he did have a reputation of not being able to keep it in his pants. Maeve had remarked that fact more than once so you wouldn't forget. And him constantly being swarmed by the prettiest celebrities didn't do any good to your self-esteem either.

You're scared of him leaving you.

"Then what is it?" you sniveled, shrinking into yourself as you hugged your own legs. Seeing you like this and knowing he's responsible was somehow even worse than his earlier apprehensions. "You always react as if you got burned whenever we touch. Did I do something wrong, or- or am I not attractive enough?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" John scoffs in an almost irritated tone, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes. Comforting people didn't really come easy to him, even if he hated himself for not being able to let the shielding facade drop just this once. "You're gorgeous and you know that! C'mon, you women are always causing arguments out of thin air. Stop making this about yourself, would y-"

Seeing your glossy eyes turn into a glare at his ramblings made him shut up immediately, but the damage has already been done. "You know what, I'll-" For a while, you sit on the edge of the bed thinking and with every passing second of silence, Homelander's anxiety skyrockets. "I think it's better if I sleep at my own place for a while."

That's exactly what he's talking about, damn it! The line between control and insanity is a thin thread, and he is not willing to take any chances - when it comes to you at least.

"No!" he almost screams at you, jumping up from the bed and pointing a warning finger at you. "You're not going fucking anywhere!" When he sees your wary expression John's eyes soften, instantly regretting his outburst.

Why does he always fuck up? Why can he never seem to keep what makes him happy? Why can't he be what you need?

Homelander buries his face in his hands, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself just like you taught him. "Look, I-" He reluctantly put his hands on each of your shoulders and when you don't flinch away, he starts rubbing circles on your back. You always do it for him when he's upset, so he figures maybe it can help you too. "Please...I'll tell you the truth, okay? Just...don't leave."

You turn around to face him, nodding mutely as he wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb. Seeing you cry was gutwrenching, moreso when he was the reason. "I..." he helplessly gestures around, wishing there was a script to this like he was usually provided. "I tend to become...rough."

"So?" The initial hurt now turned into confusion, suspicion even about whether he was telling the truth. You defendingly cross your arms, like a barrier so you wouldn't falter before you got answers.

"I'm not made out of glass." Compared to his strenght, you might as well be. "And I can talk. If you become too wild I'll let you know."

Stubborn as always. But he loved that about you, too. "It's not that easy, Y/N." His head falls in defeat and exasperation. John's about to cry himself, and he hates you seeing him anything less than perfect. "I'll hurt you, and then you'll hate me. Or worse..."

Consciously ignoring the worse part, you cup both sides of his face, making him look up to meet your eyes. "John..."

You straddle his waist again, feeling relief now that you finally understood. Peppering kisses across his face and neck you whisper "I was so, so worried you had grown tired of me..."

"Never." Homelander wasn't someone to apologize often, let alone sincerely. The times he did ever since leaving the lab he can count on one hand.

But despite him being...well, him, John knows best what it's like to be plaqued by insecurities. He hugs you tight enough to make you feel the sincerity of his words. "I only wanted to protect you. I never wanted to make you feel this way."

"Next time talk to me from the start, okay?" You smile softly as he aggrees, and he doubts to be deserving of all your sympathy.

Your hands never leave his body, featherlight touch reassuringly calming his nerves. And yet together with the fact that the only thing currently separating your bodies was your thin panty, it was no wonder that his body reacted the way it did.

A moan disrups your conversation when his cock stiffens again, and you can't help but buck your hips against him in response. Your panties were already soaking anyway, due to the friction and his dirty little deed earlier.

The scent of your lust wipe all negative emotions from your boyfriend's mind, replacing them with something else.

"I want you, John" you breathe against his ear and he whines. "We could just take it slowly..."

"I don't know how" he admits, and you smile at his reluctant aggreement. Gently being shoved down on his back again, it feels like he melts beneathe your fingertips. "Then I'll teach you."

Goosebumps rise on his skin as your fingertips ghost over his body, and you lean over for a longdue kiss, so tender and affectionate John thinks he will fall apart.

Homelander's groan gets swallowed by your lips as you pull your panties aside, slick folds now grinding against his cock. Your name falls from his lips in meek whimpers and you refuse to believe this wonderful man could ever harm you.

"Let me take care of you." Shit, how do you always know exactly what to say?

Raking your hands through your hair as you sit up, air gets stuck in Homelander's throat at the sight, making him choke.

You look fucking magnificent.

Hell, he'd pay an artist to paint you like this so he could look at it forever. If only it didn't require another person seeing you naked...

"You know, I thought it was just my imagination..." A mischievous smile plays on your lips now that you think of it. "But my panties have been disappearing a lot lately."

Your boyfriend didn't respond anything else but a whimmer, shame washing over him at being caught. Not that he was really subtle to begin with.

"Speak up" you tease, giving his shaft a soft squeeze and he instinctively thrusts into your hand like a dog in heat. "Did you use them to get yourself off to your fantasies, huh? Naughty boy." His cock twitches in your palm at the words. "From now on, I want you to come to me for release. Always."

"I trust you" you add as doubt is clearly written on his face, voice firm and as unwavering as your loving eyes, driving tears into his own. You lower yourself on his cock, savouring the feeling of being filled out like this. "Mhh...you feel so good inside of me. Will you behave, John?"

"Y-Yes..." was all he managed to wring out, since it takes every ounce of strenght inside of him to not cum to your sweet affirmations right away. John clutches the bedframe so hard that it crumbles under his grip, but to his surprise you don't wince at the sound - quite the opposite, it shot a wave of heat right through your core.

"John...look at me." You guide his hands away from his eyes to cup your breasts instead, looking at him like he's the best fucking thing in the world. The intensity of your gaze causes him to shiver, makes him wanna hide.

Yes, this is too good to be true.

Whatever you see in him right now he will taint with his own hands given time.

And yet he can't stop anymore, now that he's aware of the depht your love helds for him.

You read him like a damn book, noticing his internal struggle so you silence the voices in his head with a passionate kiss. "So good for me, John" you cheer him on, moving your hips at a low pace.

Tension finally leaves his body and he dives his tongue into your mouth, groaning deeply as he moves his body alongside yours. His touch was careful yet bruising, sending pleasant tingles down your spine.

"I love you, John" you cry out as your foreheads touch, eyes never leaving his. "I love you so damn much!"

That declaration was enough to drive him over the edge.

Homelander pulls you as close as close as humanly possible when he stills momentarily, jackknive-like thrusts chasing after his high. The sounds he made as you got filled up bordered on obscene, as did the amount of cum spilling out of you.

"Shit" he speaks breathlessly against your skin, covering a bitemark he had just caused with kisses. "M'sorry..."

And yet he wasn't willing to let go off of you just yet, this amazing orgasm unable to ward off the embarassment of his poor performance.

"Never apologize for having a good time, silly" you chuckle, brushing your nose against his. "I'm flattered, if anything."

John never knew that sex could be so...satisfying, more than just physically. Filled with carefree laughter instead of expectations.

After all, he was conditioned to never wanna disappoint.

"Nah-a-ah." You yelped as he spun you around effortlessly, now him being the one howering over you, bearing his canines like a starved predator. "I refuse to let my goddess go unworshipped."

"John...I'm okay, really. Sex between lovers is not just about that..." And yet when he opens your legs, you don't resist.

He bets you taste just as fucking good as you smell, feisty little thing. Driving him crazy all those weeks. Do you have any idea how hard it was to endure this sweet torture for your sake?!

A shiver runs down your spine when he licks his lips at the sight of your leaking entrance, taking a deep inhale. There's a hunger in his eyes that no sane person could ever comprehend - but you indulged in it, craved in his twisted kind of love.

Heh, you were a goddamn freak just like him all along, isn't that right?

Homelander takes his time kissing a path down to your navel, admiring the marks he left on your body he was now able to see as the lovebites they are. He briefly looks up to assure himself of your consent, an answering smile all he needs to continue.

"Myyyy tuuuurn" he chants so cheerful, you almost thought he had put on his formal persona.

A relieving finger finally has mercy and slides into your already overstimulated sex, making you arch your back when he curls it inside. Pleads and curses falling from your lips as he enters a second one and then another, and you desperately try to move yourself deeper onto him.

"Attagirl!" Seems like his confidence has returned, at least judging by that damn smug smile his tone indicated. The frustrated pout you wore right now was so adorable, he decided to end your misery and bury his head between your legs as well.

You were still fucking yourself on his fingers while he relished the taste of himself on your pussy, before enveloping your clit with his tongue. "That's my fucking girl right there" he mouths as he ate you out, pumping his fingers keenly on your weak spot he so easily found. "Come on, I want to hear you."

When you came it felt like you were ascending to the afterlife, screaming his name at the top of your lungs before collapsing into the sheets.

Your legs had long since gave out but John put them over his shoulders, humping the mattress while his tongue still ran over your nerve endings, shooting jolts of overwhelming pleasure through your system.

"Oopsie" he coos, a predatory glint in his eyes as he crawled on top of you again, his kiss giving you a taste of your own spent. "Made me hard again."

You eyes flutter open after the last bit of your climax had ebbed out, exhausted yet invitingly batting your lashes as your limbs entangled once again.

"Seems like I found the Homelander's weakness."

[hana-no-seiiki]

This is generally such a stupid ask but I feel like it would be.. Chaotic? At the very least amusing

Anyways

Batfam x Nicole from Class of 09! Reader

Do what you want (etc make it romantic or platonic, doesn't matter)

Just the batfam (yandere ofc) dealing with a chick who loves to ruin lives for her amusement and sometimes for revenge

Istg she'll just bully them at any chance she gets

~ 🕒

I just binged watched Class of ‘09 and all its endings/choices for you non. I don’t think I can fully depict how brash wittiness of Nicole is but here I go! (I am so traumatized) Didn’t know that’s where “No I’m flirting with you flash me a tiddy bitch” came from no wonder Nicole sounded so familiar.

btw if people are interested in watching class of ‘09 just be warned it’s basically a VN version of Degrees of Lewdity but the mc is actually a minor (without the sex/r*pe mechanic though) and it depicts a lot of just… pedophilia, necrophilia, assault, su*c*de, school shootings, racism??, BE WARNED.

The following content above ^ might be mentioned in this fic but in passing. MASSIVE DDDNE WARNING.

I don’t think I’m comfortable writing stepcest/incest in this blog so despite how perfect it’ll be to make Bruce your step father considering Nicole’s mom has divorced like a hundred times…maybe ask me in @yoru-no-seiiki and I’ll be down for it.

THIS IS ADMITTEDLY TIM + DAMIAN CENTRIC

“Do you even care? Do the results of your actions mean anything to you?”

“Yeah when they affect me, sure.”

You were a bitch. There was no denying that. But you were a pretty one. One many would grovel to be under.

You were used to this, ever since you reached a certain age people just looked at you different, acted in a way that… made you think they were boring, utter losers.

One of those losers was Tim’s friend.

Like all the stupid, horny men in your life, you hung out with him once and he spilled everything there was that you could share.

To the entire campus, the internet, even the news.

And because you were pretty, you got off scot-free. Those morons didn’t even check to see what you’ve been doing the past decade.

Except Tim. Timothy Drake. You only knew that his dad was super rich, and as much as it was tempting to sink your teeth into him and get a load of that daddy’s money, you knew better.

He apparently didn’t.

You see there was one thing every batfam member couldn’t resist. Well, two things. The first was saving people.

The second? Fixing them.

When Tim first approached you he was confused.

You were quite the popular figure in Uni. He heard the rumors. He fully expected to be cussed out to hell and back.

But you were… nice. Agreeable at most really. Brash was an understatement. But you were witty. Your comebacks were swift and deadly.

The more he studied stalked you the more he realized that the two of you were the same.

Two bright people stuck with dull idiots.

And Tim? Tim interested you enough for you to not to completely drop him after the first week. That and most of your bullying probably wouldn’t bode well towards the son of a billionaire.

He was smart, even more so than that nerd friend of his that you destroyed the life of. But more importantly he actually had some tact, and was surprisingly packed underneath all those baggy clothes.

Tim had to admit he was kind of forgetting his entire purpose of ‘fixing’ you.

Until you manipulated yet another guy into jumping off a school building for you. Thankfully he survived because Red Robin happened to be there to apprehend him but still!

And what’s worse, you met up with him afterwards talking about how that Red Robin ruined all your plans of crippling a r*pist.

Wait, a r*pist?

Tim looks through your past victims once more. Admitted he only did a surface level job of studying them in comparison to his PhD level knowledge on everything about you specifically.

And…you were right. Every guy you’ve harassed was being pushy with you in the first place, if not people with authority a decade older.

Fuck.

Well now he had no excuse. He had to make you his.

Meanwhile…

“Ugh, Damian. Can’t you tell your brother to like, fuck off or something? I can feel my social standing totally plummet every second he’s around. How do you handle being related to him?” You groaned. You weren’t fucking stupid. You knew Tim was stalking and drooling all over you lately. You hated it. He was ruining your chances with your new victims.

“Jeez [Y/N]. And here I thought you were like, into him.” Jessica, your actual crush and best friend, commented as she filed her nails.

You being the emotional stunted adult you were only replied with an (admittedly softer) “Eat a sandpaper cock and die bitch.”

Damian stared at you, the words die before they crawl out of his mouth. His hands clenched underneath the lunch tables.

Guess he had another thing to steal from his brother this time.

[akutasoda]

hello, jing yuan, aventurine, sunday and boothill with a teen!assasin reader who was ordered by their master to kill them but couldnt and [character] took them in due to their young age and frankly them being pitiful

Reader was practically forced onto assasination, is hardened and doesnt show much emotion due to their past

youthful assassinations

synopsis - they meet you through some awkward encounters after a failed assassination and yet they take pity on you and try to help

includes - jing yuan, aventurine, sunday, boothill

warnings - gn!teen!reader, fluff, slight angst, maybe ooc, mentions of killing etc, wc - 1.3k

jing yuan ★↷

↪ being the arbiter general of the luofu meant that he would have a great deal of enemies or people out to get him. but out of all the people he would expect to be sent after him, the last in that list would be a teenager. admittedly a rather skilled one.

↪although, no amount of training for you could defeat someone who had many, many years more experience than you. normally, anyone who made an attempt on his life would be sent rather promptly to the shackling prison with a hefty sentence. but fortunately for you, jing yuan took pity.

↪he could take a wild guess that you didn't choose to do this, there was something about the fact that you were so young that made him decide that you had no free will - which he would be correct about.

↪admittedly, the main reason he decided not to take action against you was because he took pity - but another reason was because he admired the skill you had, he just thought it was wasted under your current work. he could tell that your current skill could be used much more effectively, and morally better, under his guidance.

↪naturally, you were incredibly cautious and adamant about giving up your job to be taken in by the one you were ordered to kill. but ultimately you decided to go along with it, it was a much better outcome than going to the shackling prison or simply returning to those that sent you out on the mission - you had a feeling they wouldn't be so kind to you after failing.

↪it was extremely awkward between the two of you at first. jing yuan was very persistent however, he wanted to help you and he was sure you'd come around to him in no time. although he did find it rather difficult to figure out what you were feeling because he truly couldn't tell with you.

↪jing yuan tried his hardest to help. he knew it was a difficult task but he was determined to make sure that your life got set on the right track. slowly but surely he would build up your trust - very slowly because you weren't so eager to give up anything about yourself.

↪your skill was certainly impressive for your age and jing yuan definitely thought it was much better used in the cloud knights, or even another retainer, than some unlawful assassin work. and eventually, he felt like he had another child to look after.

aventurine ★↷

↪the IPC wasn't exactly the most liked company in the galaxy, far from it. so naturally being a higher level member of the IPC meant that some people would be hunting you down. so having someone go after a stoneheart wasn't all that uncommon. although a teenager skilled in assanation was definitely a surprise to see.

↪unfortunately, you were practically set on an impossible mission. trying to kill someone who was luck blessed upon them wasn't exactly going to end well for you. fortunately however, you were lucky enough for aventurine to take pity on you.

↪he knew what it was like to be forced into something as a child, although it was quite the different experience between the two of you. but he still felt bad, you clearly hadn't had the choice to begin with and he wanted to help someway.

↪getting you to join the IPC wouldn't exactly be the greatest upgrade for you, if anything from his own personal experience it would only make it seem better but would be worse. however aventurine knew that your ‘employer’ wouldn't take your failure well.

↪so unfortunately, aventurine managed to land you a job at the IPC. except you were to work directly under him as a fork of bodyguard, that way the IPC’s grasp wasn't as bad as it normally would be to a regular employee.

↪aventurine understood why you didn't show much emotion, he couldn't blame you. all he could do was hope that eventually you'd start trusting him, he knew it could take ages but he never had someone genuine in his corner back then, so he'd be someone in yours.

sunday ★↷

↪head of the oak family. a title that carried a lot of responsibility and consequently, a lot of risks. some risks did include some people choosing to hunt him down, some people such as your ‘employer'. sunday never expected for a teenager of all people to be the next to go after him.

↪no amount of skill you possess could actually prove a threat to him, and it took him no time at all to discover who your ‘employer' was and the intent of them sending you after him - thanks to a certain gift from a certain aeon.

↪which is also how he knew immediately that you were practically forced into this job and the whole assanation thing as a whole from a young age. admittedly, this did stir a tad bit of sympathy from sunday and so he took pity on you.

↪your skills were impressive for someone of your age and so sunday thought that you'd be better suited to working alongside the bloodhounds or some faction in penacony, not the lousy people that you worked for before. although he did also think that you deserved to have time away from the whole ‘assassination’ business.

↪sunday knew that you would be rather closed off and emotionless, he didn't care all that much though. he understood that you had quite the past and so he expected that from you. he would just have to try his hardest to help you break out of that shell to at least him.

boothill ★↷

↪boothill had many, many people either chasing down his own bounty or simply hunting him down. although, you were certainly the first teenager that had been sent after him - and no matter how skilled you were, he certainly wouldn't let himself get caught by you of all people.

↪boothill was initially quite impressed by the skills that you held at such a young age, you kind of reminded him of his old self at a young age. he reckoned that you could definitely hone your skills even more as you grew up but clearly not under whoever at that moment.

↪galaxy rangers often worked alone, and boothill adhered to that. however, he could clearly tell that you had been forced into assassination and knew that if you continued on with however, it wouldn't end up so well off later down the line.

↪and so boothill offered you the choice to travel with him. he definitely thought that he could help you more than those lazy scoundrels that sent you after him could - you could even help him with bounty-hunting but that could come later.

↪he knew that you weren't so open with him and he respected that. naturally you wouldn't be close to someone you just met, especially considering your past, but the fact that you took his offer showed that you had some kind of trust or faith in him.

↪the person that became boothill had a daughter, he never got to see her grow up. you could never be her but he wasn't asking you to be. boothill saw you the same way his adoptive parents saw him, a child, or teenager even, in need of help. in need of a parental figure. and that's exactly what he aimed to be for you.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[pressureplus]

I need that for my comfort!🥺✨ Trans boy reader who started to have dysphoria because his hair a getting to long for his comfort. So he ask to Sebastian to help him cut them shorter, which Sebastian hesitantly agreed. Might not be the best since it’s was cut with some scissors and also because Sebastian never cut hair before. But reader is still happy with the result lol.

This is so cute

Hair and Care 101

Pairings: Sebastian Solace X TransMasc!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: Mentions of Gender Dysphoria

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

“And you're sure you want me to cut it? You won't do it yourself?”

“I can't exactly see the back of my head, so yes.” You sit on a stool, hands knitted together in anxiety. You'd asked Sebastian if he would be willing to cut your hair for you today. It had been, admittedly, a bit awkward to ask. He’d been flipping through files and restocking the supplies on his tail when you'd stepped into his shop. Your long hair getting in your eyes and somewhat fanning out nearly down to your hips. You hadn't had the opportunity to get it cut in so long it made your skin crawl. You felt…feminine. Way too feminine. You can't remember the last time you let your hair grow out this long and its made it really, really hard to focus on anything else. Its not just because it gets in your eyes and you can't for the life of you find a hairtie. Its deeper than that. You've started to almost flinch away from your reflections in the water and windows.

You've started to grab at your hips, at your face, poking and prodding and wondering if you can even pass with long hair. You haven't met another person besides Sebastian and the idea of being unable to see yourself the way you should. The way you know in your heart to be right. It makes you uncomfortable. You can only pinch and poke and prod for so long before your skin gets irritated. Right now, sat here, waiting for Sebastian to cut your hair? This was like your skin getting irritated. You had to debate if you were willing to even let another person cut your hair. What if they butchered it? What if it made you look worse than before? What if he fucked it up so bad you looked like one of those weird troll dolls but worse somehow? It had been your biggest worry for quite some time, until your hair got long enough that you couldn't stand it anymore.

“I feel like I should make you sign a waiver.”

“Sebastian, Im serious. Please, just cut it, I don't care if it's the worst thing ever. I can't keep walking around like this.”

“You understand my hands are too big to fit these scissors properly, right?”

“Doesnt matter, just get it done.” He sighs and grabs a collection of your long locks, specifically the one around your face. He straightens the hair to the best of his abilities using a hand so he can make the cleanest cuts he can.

“Why does this matter so much to you? Shouldn't you be, I don't know, focused on surviving? I mean paying me for a haircut seems a bit much.”

“Its…complicated.”

“How complicated can it really be?” He hums as he continues to make cuts, the sound of scissors through hair joining the sound of dripping water and Sebastian's voice. Would he even be cool about something like this? He doesn't particularly like anyone, and he's not really friendly with you either. Would he use it against you somehow? Would he get aggressive about it?

“I just feel kind of…feminine, and it makes me uncomfortable.” You mutter and this only gets a chuckle, sounding condescending.

“Oh, Expendable, long hair doesn't make you any less of a man. Don't be ridiculous.”

“I just don't like it.”

“Look, all I'm saying is, you could have bought a medkit instead of a haircut. If its this important than fine. Who am I to tell you how to spend your collected data?”

“Whether it makes me more of a man or not, is it wrong of me to not like feeling…” You trail off, and all at once, Sebastian tenses mid cut.

“Oh…thats what this is about.” His tone softens up a bit, the mild poking he had been doing immediately being cut out as he carries on cutting your hair.

“This isn't too stupid of a purchase, I guess.” He adds on.

“Yeah?” You ask as he finishes up, putting the scissors to the side and ruffling your hair to get any loose strands out.

“Yeah. Go take a look,” he motions towards the water so you can see yourself in the reflection. You peer down into it curiously and immediately your shoulders relax. You hadn't even realized you'd been tense. Your hairs a bit choppy, admittedly, but its not ugly or particularly butchered by any means. He was oddly thoughtful and careful about taking care of your hair for you. Even saying it was ridiculous to spend your data on, he didn't ruin it for you on purpose.

“Its good, you did a good job.”

“Yeah, well, I'm sure if you keep coming to me I'll get better every time.”

“Im sure you will, then.” You give him a smile and he kind of awkwardly smiles back for a moment. A bit of hesitation as you grab the keycard off his desk and put your swimming gear back on now that its dry.

“Wait.”

“Ah- Yes Sebastian?” You turn, concerned about what he might say. He's not stupid and you're certain he's figured you out by now. If he doesn't like it, there's nothing he can do about it sure but you always tense when people get all awkward around you. He hesitates a moment longer before giving you a little wave.

“You look better with short hair anyway.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, I do…now go on and get out of here. I've got other Expendables to deal with and a mess of hair to clean.”

[theoryofthemultiverse]

Hoyo‘s Doctors as Dads🧸

Synopsis: Do they want children? How would they be as dads? What hobbies would they have with their children?

Characters: Baizhu, Dr.Ratio, Il Dottore

A.N: Oh yes!!! Beware though I made this pretty realistically what I thought their decisions would be based on a few presented factors. Also very sorry I didn’t post anything, I feel like my writing is getting worse :.)

C.w: Reader is implied to carry the baby, also Dr. Ratio‘s part is a lot longer than Baizhu‘s and Dottore‘s (sorry I can’t do all men justice equally ):

-🧸<🍼> 🧸-🧸<🍼> 🧸🧸<🍼> 🧸🧸<🍼> 🧸🧸<

Baizhu🐍

He definitely wouldn’t be opposed to the idea. He would love to raise a child with you and teach it all about the world and make it into a lovely human being.

So his parenting style would support that! He would want to be there for his child no matter if there are emotional troubles that it can’t cope with or experiences to be made in reality. He would in general be very patient with his child and have a good mixture of strictness with gentleness.

He also detest shouting at it, as well as scolding too harshly so he really tries to not do this to make sure he doesn’t damage the relationship with his child. Nonetheless, the child knows when his tone gets stern that it did something wrong and better listens to what its father has to tell them.

As for what he would do together with them, there are a lot of things. Surely he would like to teach the kid a little bit about medicine even if it ends up not wanting to do that for their profession. He thinks it’s good to have some basic medicinal knowledge. He would also take them for some walks and hikes in nature when going out for herbs.

Dr. Ratio🎓

Getting Children is admittedly not really on his radar. He is so focused on work that he tries his best to be there often enough for let alone you, so if you two were to get a child he would have a lot more time to invest into it and sacrifice work time to be here for you and the baby. Especially since he wouldn’t want you to be the only one to need to invest their time into it.

And while that might not be the end of the world, it would bother him to have his pretty good work-life balance smashed together by a little human. Since he is also pretty content with the relationship only being between the two of you.

Yet if you were to listen to his reasons and be able to make a few sacrifices on your side, he would maybe be willing to give you a child. In your pregnancy he would then be there for you to the best of his abilities and care for the little human inside you, yet you can see there is a bit of distance.

But that distance also gets less after the baby is born and has features of him and you. He would fall in love.

He then would be more of a stricter dad. He has read a lot about parenting in books prior yet still wouldn’t fuss to scold the child occasionally if it did something really wrong.

What he would do with the child largely depends on the child’s personality. If he notices the child likes learning and asks him questions about every kind of science then he would be over the moon. If the child turns out to be hating school and academics however.. be prepared to watch him try to cope with that.

If the child would be willing, he would indulge in every childlike imagination with them, explaining the physics of a flying ship, floating water in zero gravity, you name it. If the child is completely disinterested though. He will have a hard time to bond with it, since there is only an emotional component left which is very important and which he could fulfill just fine, but there is no shared passion between them then.

So all in all, he would probably be against getting a child. The chances of him and it not connecting are too big to him to want to try it out because even if you try it and it doesn’t work, he doesn’t want a child to need to suffer under it. He also simply isn’t interested in the major life changes that come with it and admits that he is not cut out to be a parent which is fine too isn’t it?

Il Dottore🧪

You want a child? He would give it to you, what’s the harm in it after all? Most that it would have in store for him is another human he could teach some things about lab work.

But other than concerning himself with it when it comes to work be prepared to raise it on your own. Dottore may be willing to give you a child and help you with giving birth and be there for all the pregnancy related things, but he would more do the minimum rather than the maximum.

But if you agree that you are okay with the minimum and occasional bonding moments he‘d have with the child then there you go!

Maybe he would also deploy one of his clones from time to time to entertain the baby (but please make sure it doesn’t end up in an experiment then :).

If you ever really have all hands full nonetheless and all the clones are with him in an experiment you will get the lucky chance to see Dottore strapped with your little one to the chest walking around the lab with the clones. Which surely is questionable but boy does it look kinda cute.

They all would probably get so distracted by the baby after some point tho that everything is about it and work is forgotten.

[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER ONE — THE POISE, INTEGRITY and LUCK OF A KENNEDY

MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: you go head-to-head with your new neighbor, eddie munson, and lose something precious to you in the process. content warnings: NSFW / MINORS DNI swearing, classic 80s classism, tommy hagan jumpscare, eddie munson jackin off word count: 3.4k

Dear reader, I wish I could tell you it ends well for you. 

I wish I could tell you that this is nothing but a bad dream, or a fugue state, or an extremely vivid hallucination brought on from that weed your friends buy from that burnout in the horrendous denim vest that is now your next door neighbor. 

I wish I could tell you that you’re not sitting on your designer suitcases in the weed-ridden lot of a trailer park, watching your mom (who is already it’s-five o’clock-somewhere drunk) charmlessly haggle about the rent. 

See, you used to have money, but now you don’t. 

You used to have a dad who wasn’t incarcerated, but now you don’t. 

You used to have integrity, but the IRS seized the last of that along with your childhood home in Loch Nora. 

I wish I could tell you that you weren’t totally fucked. But it seems that there’s no way this total shitheap of a situation could get worse–

“Need a little help with that?”

–except there is. There totally is.

You flex your hand, relieving it from it’s writing cramp. You’ve been hunched over your journal, perched on your ready-to-burst luggage for what seems like hours now– admittedly, you’re the kind of girl that’s used to valet service. Bellhops carrying your suitcases to your room when you used to join your dad on business trips. 

But valets never looked like this. Squinting at you from beneath his ratted-out waves, Eddie Munson gives you a once-over that makes your stomach lurch. You know him the same way everyone in Hawkins knows him– either barrelling through the hallways like a tweaked out autocrat whose only dominion is over his group of unwashed dorks or palming off baggies at parties. But there’s something about Munson that’s always rubbed you the wrong way. He’s so loud and defiant and achingly obvious, smug when he’s got no right to be. 

Especially now. 

“Excuse me?” you drawl, snapping closed the leatherbound journal. 

“Just wheeling out the welcome wagon. It’s not often we get new neighbors with so much…,” he pauses, gaze scanning over the boxes and bags and randomized ephemera being loaded out of the cheapest moving van Hawkins has to offer, “Shit.” 

“If I didn’t know any better, Munson, I’d say you were casing the joint.” In fact, you find yourself wondering where exactly your jewelry box is– y’know, the leftover shit your parents didn’t already pawn. The millieu of your grief made you forget about the high possibility of people in the trailer park stealing your stuff.

Munson grimaces. “Do I look like a thief to you?”

“You look like a drug dealer to me,” you snipe, smile all fake. “You might be looking to diversify your criminal skillset. How should I know?” 

From where you sit on your straining suitcase, you’re about eye-level with Eddie’s crotch. And call him a weirdo, call him whatever, he doesn’t mind the view. As much as he’d like to pretend he’s above the discordant buzz of Hawkins’ gossip scuttlebutt, news of your family’s downfall is hot shit. He can barely believe it’s really happening, and right in his front yard; Hawkins High’s stoniest, coldest fox and her equally foxy mom were packing their fur coats and shit into a double wide. Eddie couldn’t lie– he liked seeing people like you get knocked down a peg. So he’d come to gloat. A little. 

But you’re all snappy and full of venom– not like in school, where he’s almost positive you’ve never made eye contact with him.

He doesn’t mind that change in attitude either.

“C’mon. That luggage looks a little heavy for you, princess,” he says. “I don’t entirely trust you getting it inside the trailer without breaking a nail.” 

“I don’t need your help,” you say, shoving that tattered journal into your book bag. Eddie wonders what kind of bullshit you’re always writing in there– every time you’re not in the middle of some idiot milleu with your popular cohorts, you’re practicing your longhand. 

“You could use it, though,” he counters, and the condescension in his tone makes your cheeks flare up. You spring from your seat on the suitcase, making Munson take a shocked half-step back. His eyes blaze, rounding out as he takes you in at your full height. 

Still taller than you. He'll be okay. He thinks.

“I’m a goddamn cheerleader, you Neanderthal looking dipshit,” you spit, “I’ve got a core of steel.” 

You turn and dip, reaching for the thick leather handles of the case and discover–oof–that’s a little bit way heavier than you were expecting it to be. But spurned by sheer stubbornness and a need to get away from him as quickly as humanly possible, you brace yourself against the screaming muscles in your arms and wobble the baggage all the way to the trailer door. Your mom stands in your path, dress slipping off her shoulders, blearily looking toward the Munson kid as he retreats to his own trailer with a languid backwards tread. He can’t look away from this scene. 

“Mom. Mom, can I fucking–” you struggle through gritted teeth, “The bag, Mom. Get out of the way.” 

She moves out of your way at an aching half-speed as Munson’s eyes burn hot on your struggling frame–he’s loving this, he’s loving seeing you in the shit just like everyone’s loving seeing you in the shit–and you deposit your suitcase in your brand new matchbox-sized bedroom with a heaving gasp. Shit.

You cross the room in about three steps, heading to the window to close the blinds– shshk. Sshsk.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” 

The blinds begin to close, but stop dead not even halfway across the window. They’re stuck, leaving you without a particle of privacy. Which sucks, of course, because you were really banking on some scheduled crying time tonight. 

You had held it in for as long as you possibly could, all that hurt and frustration at the disaster your father had landed you in, promising yourself that you’d let it all out once you and your mom had a safe place. A place that wasn’t your estranged aunt’s basement couch, or a motel you could barely afford. A place that you could at least pretend was home. In your minds eye, you had envisioned something modest-if-shitty– the sunnier end of Cherry Lane, maybe. You hadn’t counted on a place that required a gas hookup. 

You tug on the beaded chain with a desperate force and no give– exasperated, you let your head slump against the filthy windowpane. The bedroom window stares directly into the window of the trailer opposite, where a warm yellow light flickers on and illuminates another bedroom. 

Peeling posters and a guitar on the wall. Of course. Of course you’ve got a bird’s eye view into Eddie Munson’s fetid cave. He spots you in the window and pouts a big ol’ pitiful pout– poor little rich girl. Missing your velvet blackout curtains? 

You can’t flip him the bird quick enough before he closes his fully functional blinds. 

–

You sleep like shit. Exhaustion couldn't even beat you into a slumber. You couldn’t be bothered to begin the unpacking process and instead fished out whatever closest resembled pyjamas from your luggage (an oversized t-shirt from a father-daughter trip to Columbia University), curling up on your bare mattress with your coat thrown over you, but the thing that was really keeping you awake? You couldn’t find your pen. 

Your prized possession pen, your fountain pen in the ruby-red casing. Your journaling pen. You refuse to write in your diary with an inferior instrument, alright, that’s just not how it’s done, but it’s nowhere to be found. It’s not rolling around the bottom of your book bag, though you’ve emptied the thing three times. It’s not anywhere.

You ask your mom if she’s spotted it anywhere, but she’s still in a Valium haze when you’re buzzing around, trying to get ready for school. 

That’s a whole other ordeal. Your acceptable school clothes are, again, buried in some suitcase that was hastily packed as agents waited for you to vacate the property. And by appropriate, you mean your carefully chosen pastel color palette– the very best of the very trendiest, the ra-ra skirts and the bomber jackets that sit so perfectly on your poised shoulders. The kind of clothes that make someone like Tina go, God, I wish we could trade dads. Just for the credit card. 

Now, all you’ve got to hand are the clothes that feel like your dirty little secret– thrift store suede and dark, rich knits, dresses of velvet and leather boots. The kind of things you collect just to collect, to dress up in when you know no one’s going to be looking at you and think someday. Someday you’ll be someplace where you don’t have to wear the exact right JCPenney piece of shit to fit in with a crowd. Because these are the kinds of clothes that feel right, but make people, important people, people like Carol go–

“Jesus, Lacy, dressed for a funeral much?” 

You hadn’t though the ensemble was too dark, but hey, in the harsh light of day. You bashfully shrug your jacket closer around you, faux fur collar tickling your ears. “I’m in mourning.” 

“Shit, I hate driving out here,” Tommy Hagan squawks from the driver’s seat, already agitated first thing in the morning, “I always feel like I’m gonna get carjacked.” 

Forget your shitty car; the only thing they’d be stripping for parts out here is you, Tommy, you want to quip, but you just fasten your seatbelt. Carol had managed to guilt him into giving you a ride this morning, an effort in pity and also because she wanted the gossip from the trailer park before anybody else. 

“Yeah, how was it, Lace? Did you like, deadbolt the doors and shit? Because you really gotta do that out here.”

“You should get a bat to leave by the door. Y’know, for intruders,” Tina blankly adds, staring into her compact mirror. 

“You should get a gun,” Hagan says, peeling out of the park with a quickness, “if that’s who you’re livin’ next to.”

“What? Who?”

“That Munson freak,” you sigh, resting your head against the windowpane again, “He like, basically threatened to rob me when I was trying to move in yesterday.”

A chorus of disgust rises up in the car that makes you feel good– warm, surrounded, accepted. Even though it blatantly wasn’t true, you’d do just about anything to win your friends’ approval these days. You noticed a certain waver in their stares when you revealed where you’d be moving to, after your dad was sentenced and everything.

A lot of the time, you didn’t feel like they wanted to be there for you, more that they wanted to be the first to hear the dirt on Hawkins’ most scandalous family. 

Usually you’re the one on the receiving end of their deep, dark secrets. 

It’s like they feel like they finally have something on you. 

Or, no! That’s crazy, you’re just being paranoid. These are your friends. As much as high schoolers can be friends. 

“I’ve got just the thing to take your mind off it, Lacy,” Tina says, pinching your arm, “Kegger at Harrington’s on Friday. He even asked about you–”

“--he said he could give you a discount at Family Video if you need it–” Hagan sniggers, earning a smack in the ear from Tina. 

“--shut up! So, you’re not a total social pariah yet, okay?”

You blink. You know Tina means well, but sometimes she is so fucking tactless. “Um. Didn’t think I was one, Tins, but thanks for the reassurance. I guess.”

–

He’s not a thief. He swears to God, or whatever the cooler alternative of God is, he’s not. 

But he’d be lying if he didn’t consider keeping the stupid red pen just to see if you’d miss it. It’s engraved, he noticed, while rolling it between his fingers as he lay in bed last night. And Eddie Munson is a man not unfamiliar with the value of a decent writing utensil. Those D&D campaigns don’t write themselves. You want something that’s going to be in it for the scribbling long haul and this thing’s not bad. Etched in teeny tiny letters on the pen cap are your initials– the letters of a name no one calls you anymore. 

Which is the part that makes it stupid, obviously. What is it with rich people and putting their monogram all over everything?

God, she’s obsessed with this fuckin’ thing, Eddie thinks. Wonder how much it’s worth. A lot, to you, obviously. You’re always etching with it in English, using it to push a lock of hair behind your ear in the library. Tapping it against your lips when you’re standing at your open locker, the tip settling right into your Cupid’s bow, the red casing bouncing off the plush pink of— woah. Pause. 

Eddie had to take a beat. 

He’d been tapping the pen against his lips too. Thinking about you. Thinking about your lips. That nasty little pout you gave him outside your trailer, the snarl it curled into when he goaded you on. 

Fuck, was that kinda… were you kinda…

It’s enough for him to jam the pen into his mouth and palm himself over his boxers, just to make sure. And— yep. He’d hummed, a kind of well whaddaya know! and slipped his hand under the worn elastic waistband. He even gave himself a couple of tugs, just to make sure. 

And the thing that made him really sure was the Technicolor vision he had of confronting you in the library’s restricted section.

Yanking that pen away from your mouth and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

Clamping his mouth onto yours and sinking his tongue so deep inside he could taste the cherry Tab lingering on your uvula.

Guiding your hand, your writing hand, past the undone clink of his belt and waistband of his jeans so you could stroke him to the head. 

Ink stains mixing with precum. 

Moaning into your mouth. 

Giving you something to write to dear diary about. 

So now, back in the harsh light of day, this stupid rich bitch pen is burning a hole in his pocket. 

Almost like payback, as if you’d embarrassed him by making him hard in the privacy of his own trailer, he approaches you in the most audacious setting imaginable— the cafeteria. 

You sit there, among your usual gaggle of Gap zombies, but you look— different. You’re dressed different. Cool jacket, Eddie involuntarily thinks before mentally slapping himself. Shut up! We’re here to humiliate her, remember?

“Lacy,” he says, but he draws it out all over his tongue so it sounds like laayyyy-ceeee, and you are visibly disgusted by this. He looms over the table, barely containing the twisted grin on his face. He's playing the part of fake bashful here, you see. “You, uh, dropped this outside my place last night.” Your shoulders go tense. Eyes of your space cadet friends snapping back and forth, from Eddie to you to Eddie to you. 

Because it’s true. Technically, you did drop it and technically, it was outside his place but the implication is what's killing you. 

Eddie can barely outstretch his hand before you snap the pen from him, icy fingers a shock to his skin. This sick thrill gathers like a twister in his stomach as you freeze in place, staring him down with a laser pointed glare. Fuck. Off. And. Die, it says. 

But he doesn’t! “Oh gosh, no need to thank me, Lace! Really, it was no trouble at all— what are neighbors for!”

Mocking giggles start bursting from the popular kid peanut gallery. But the flavor is… off.

Eddie scans the little in-crowd that are scoffing at your expense— which, okay, is totally what he came over here to do but… these are meant to be your buddies, right? Shouldn’t Hagan be threatening to beat Eddie’s ass right about now?

But instead they’re just… letting you stew. No one’s telling Eddie to back off, no one’s calling him their second favorite F slur (freak, naturally). 

Nicole Summers is laughing into her sleeve. That’s rich. Underclassman Carver is almost looking at him like, Yeah man, you got her good!

Which does not feel good. Feels kind of shitty, actually. 

Too easy of a win.

You didn’t even get a chance to fight back. You couldn’t. 

Fuck. 

Eddie turns heel and heads back to his table, a gaggle of befuddled Hellfire heads eager to know what the hell was that, man?! But even he can’t quite put his finger on it.

He feels… bad for you. 

—

“Anybody got bleach?” 

It’s the first thing you manage to choke out after a chorus of ooh, Lacy, what a good neighbor! and Hope that’s all you dropped outside his trailer, girl! All through lunch period, you’re the fucking laughing stock squared thanks to that long haired douchebag. 

“Bleach ain’t gonna cut it,” Carol smirks as you both exit the girls room and head toward your respective lockers, “That thing is totally contaminated with freak cooties. Better toss it— unless you don’t mind.”

See, that’s the thing. You do mind, because it’s your stupid goddamn special idiot sentimental pen and now he’s gone and— and— freaked it up somehow. Exploiting the fact you’ve had to make a major lifestyle downgrade because it makes him feel better. It makes you feel even more exposed than you’ve been getting used to feeling lately. 

Before you can get into it any more, Carol is clotheslined by Tommy to go, I don’t know, finger each other behind the basketball bleachers or whatever it is they do instead of going to study hall. You’ve lost track. 

You push past the gathering rush in the hallway to access your locker. Just as you slam the door closed, it appears again, like an insistent apparition. 

“What, Munson, are you here to tell me you put a bomb in my book bag? Because, if so, great. At least that’ll kill me.” 

Munson stands there, leaning against some poor bastard freshman’s locker, brow all tight. 

“Was I kind of a dick earlier?” 

You stare at him, incredulous. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I was. Shit, I knew it!”

“Why the fuck are you talking to me.”

“I didn’t mean it to come off like that— well, okay, I kinda did, but that was pretty cold. I mean, your dirty laundry’s already all over Hawkins, I probably shouldn’t have been like, waving your panties around—“

“Munson.” You gesture toward him, as if you’re going to clutch him by the forearms to shut him up, but halt at the last second. Fuck, you can’t stand him, you can’t stand the way he’s standing there with this earnest look in his eyes, on some hair metal Ferris Beuller protagonist of reality bullshit.

Your eyes flare white hot, jaw flexing.

“Listen to me. We may live in a regrettably closer orbit now, but that does not require us to acknowledge each other as human beings. In fact, if you try and pull some shit like that again— in fact, if you even so much as deign to look in my direction again, I will slash the tires on that fucking decommissioned World War II ambulance you call a van. You do not exist to me, and I better not exist to you. I am not your neighbor, I am a figment of your fucking rotted pothead imagination at best. Leave me the fuck alone or I will eat you. Capiche?”

You know for a fact that these are the highest volume of words you’ve ever spoken (or will ever speak) directly to Munson, and he knows it too. You don’t let loose like this— you don’t even talk to anyone outside your friend group unless extracurriculars or group projects call for it. Not because you’re shy, but because you’re discerning. 

Munson has managed to disarm you of all that with one stupid little pen. 

He’s staring at you with a deviously shiny-eyed gaze, one that makes you feel like you need to button the modesty button of a blouse you’re not even wearing. 

“M’kay, well, let me know if you need a ride after school!” he chirps and shrugs and takes off down the hallway to some class he’s certainly failing. 

And you’ve just earned the first big fat F of your life, by letting Eddie Munson get under your skin.

author's notes: hi! if you've read this far, i owe you my eternal thanks. been a hot sec since i wrote fic so i appreciate it. - thee perennial reference to lacy's nickname— best imagined sung to yourself in your bedroom mirror and having a classic 18 year old existential crisis, lol! - the journal and fountain pen motif is a not entirely subtle reference to veronica sawyer from heathers. please expect this trend to continue - as far as timelines go re: steve's working life and tommy and carol's high school careers, bear with me. all will be discussed or at least briefly mentioned but will there be inconsistencies? of course there will, babe. i'm here to fuck around, i'm not here for continuity - horndog eddie munson you WILL live forever! - please reblog, like & comment to show support! i've got some killer chapters planned for this fic and i live to entertain u

[babacontainsmultitudes]

🤔 Admittedly I was a little disappointed by the reveal (but certainly not surprised the foreshadowing was heavy in this episode lol), but not actually against how Beth (and Will) seem to be playing with it thus far- which is to say that I do think it has a lot of potential, and I suspect there's more to what we're seeing).

;) Big ol' ramble below

Mostly the theory has turned me off until now (at least insofar as I've witnessed it transpire in the fandom at large) because it struck me as so painfully ironic to see Trudy, a 1950s housewife, struggle to exist under the system that she's in, fail to fit the mold assigned to her, and be denied her personhood very literally for it (this being ironic insofar as how it mimics how she would have been treated back then). This and because frankly I just think she's a lot less interesting if she's fully a robot LOL, but I'll hopefully get to that in a bit.

Not that the hints at her mechanical nature and the relevance of Tucker's background were lost on me; I can appreciate why those would contribute to a plausible, fun and I think still mostly harmless theory (now fact). However, minus one or two specific posts I've seen on the matter (namely a recent one suggesting that if Trudy is a robot Beth is probably taking inspiration from The Stepford Wives, :( sorry person who made that post I couldn't find it I wanted to credit yoouuu), I've seen the theory just about exclusively presented in a manner that, rather than explore the metaphorical and political significance of Trudy being partially or fully mechanical, at best disregards the parts of her narrative that are at their core about sexism (among other related things), and at worst negates them entirely (i.e. Trudy only thinking and acting how she does because she's a robot malfunctioning and not because the world itself is causing harm and she rightfully wants something more than the role she was forced into, Trudy not even having any real thoughts and feelings of her own, etc.). I just think it kind of sucks to shove all those important things about her aside and say "actually, there's no person suffering here, she's just a robot" and perhaps worse yet to imply that she does have thoughts and feelings but because they result in Weird™ behavior it must be a problem with her code and not at all relate to what women were subjugated to during this point in American history.

CONVERSELY I don't think Trudy being a robot (or at least partially one) at least from what Beth and Will have presented us thus far, inherently suffers from any of these issues? First and foremost because Trudy definitely appears to possess sentience, thoughts, and emotions of her own, matters which immediately complicate her degree of personhood and don't inherently box her behavior in as a bug in her programming rather than an issue with the world she's been put in, quite the opposite in fact! I think they have a very solid groundwork laid out here to make a strong statement with Trudy's narrative (and perhaps ask the question of what is really malfunctioning here), all the more so since [I pull out a Rebecca Swallows-style conspiracy board] I don't think she's entirely robotic in nature? Actually you should just read Mack's tags in this post cause he has great thoughts on the matter (of which those are just some of them), but if I can direct your attention to one thing in particular, it would be Beth's fact (I *believe* from episode 2) about Trudy never graduating high school because of her essay where she suggested that "perhaps women could one day domesticate themselves", a statement that could of course be interpreted a number of ways but ultimately threatened the patriarchal status quo enough (in suggesting women's independence) to cost Trudy her diploma. Taken on its own this fact appears to contradict the theory that Trudy has always been robotic in nature, because it doesn't really make sense that Trudy would have been set up to go through high school (or school at all really) when Tucker's intention was/is for her to be the perfect housewife. You may then suggest that Trudy's memories of this are fabricated and not actually her lived experiences, in which case firstly perhaps you should reread my earlier point on the robot theory being used to actively negate and otherwise disregard the portions of Trudy's narrative that pertain to sexism and feminism, and secondly it really doesn't make any sense to me that Tucker would implant those kind of memories into Trudy's brain? To be completely honest if she's been a robot from the very beginning (rather than someone who became a cyborg, which is what I'm trying to suggest here), then I don't see why Tucker would program her with actual sentience in the first place (suspending my disbelief here with regards to the possibility of programming sentience to begin with). It seems much more likely to me then that Trudy was not always a robot, and instead altered by Tucker to force her into a role of subordination and remedy her """imperfections""". This option is significantly more interesting to me one, because it implies that Trudy has actually lived a life up until the present, full of its own complexities and strife (and dreams, and real actual memories worth exploring, etc.), and hence is not by any means "just a robot", and second because it amplifies the hypothetical statement being made on the lives of the real living women of the era and how they were treated and seen as being "in need of fixing" for not conforming to gender roles or otherwise acting "out of line" with what was expected of them.

OKAY THIS GOT OUT OF HAND SO I'M CUTTING MYSELF OFF HERE but I wanted to my share my current thoughts what with this ending and where I'm at so hopefully that was at least interesting to whoever has chosen to read through this one okay thank you byyyyyyyyye~

[dreamsinmoonlight]

Dude, you could do a fic where the reader goes looking for Yandere Alastor at the end of the battle with Adam (where is he mad? Insane?... You know in the last ep)... The reader was worried about Alastor, but found him At the worst moment, maybe Alastor will collapse and go crazy... Maybe because he saw that the reader is also hurt? Or there is a revelation for him where he discovers that he is in love with the reader...

It's up to you, I just want to see a fanfic about it!!

(Here we go, I was thinking a lot about this one because honestly I love me a good old fashion insanity moment because of invocation of the "berserk button is hurting that person" trope. Mmmmm~

Modifying it a little just because I lean into the going insane because someone you care about is hurt (also I have another ask involving finding Alastor after the battle). So instead of being when he gets to the radio tower...

How about we rewind and let it be, oh, during the battle? Hehehe~

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Characters: yandere!Alastor, reader, Adam

Pairing: Alastor x reader

Genre:

Summary: The fight is raging but all you can think about is one very dangerous deer....)

Reckless Abandon

Hazbin Hotel was not falling without a fight, not if the residents and their friends had anything to say about it.

There were exterminators everywhere, angels everywhere and anywhere you looked. It felt, to you, as if the sky itself was falling, was being torn asunder, and though you knew that there was a shield, a barrier you believed in more than you believed in anything else, still something in the depths of your gut couldn't help but worry.

Someone screamed your name and you narrowly avoided a sword coming at you from the side, the mad flickering face of the angel who had tried to kill you so close you could almost make out each pixel in the mask they wore. By instinct you struck out and punched them, though some part of your brain understood it would likely do little; still they didn't seem to expect it from you and it connected, throwing them for a loop and to the ground for a moment.

"Good job toots!" Angel called out with one of those friendly grins of his that you could never help but return; he leveled his tommy guns and continued to shoot away, trying to bring down as many of the flying monsters as he could.

"Thanks Angel!" you called back and looked around; Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Cherri Bomb, Sir Pentious, even Nifty was running around stabbing admittedly already downed angels. But everyone was doing their best, fighting and honestly there seemed almost to be a chance, a small possibility, they could survive this. You could survive this.

You never meant to die and come to Hell, but no one ever did. Still in the years you'd been there you'd only ever felt actually happy at the hotel; Charlie was such a good kind person and Vaggie's devotion to her was heartwarming. It was never boring, never uneventful, and never anything less than a trip from the very day you came to their door, looking for a place to stay to get away from the far worse denizens than yourself. And somewhere deep down you'd admit, only to yourself, that what made you feel the happiest was the presence of one demon in particular.

You glanced up as you thought about him and almost immediately wished you hadn't. That shield that you believed so in, you saw with your own eyes it crack, you saw it break, and you saw the figure of the scariest of them all: Adam. He'd broken it down, he'd broken...

"Alastor's shield," you whispered, as the others saw it too, as it dawned on them what happened.

He was supposed to be able to keep it up, give them enough time to thin the herd more. No one expected Adam to be so powerful to be able to break something created by the Radio Demon, the Radio Demon. Alastor stood up to Lucifer, to the Vs, to other Overlords, he was the monster in the dark, the grinning Cheshire Deer Cat of Terror, and Adam had punched one of his barriers into nothingness as easily as he could have been punching a marshmallow.

That feeling of worry returned and it tasted of blood. You licked your lips and looked around. The others were worried too but all recovered, getting back to work, not letting this stop them. You tried to do the same, to remember the plan: if the shield went down then Alastor would take out Adam, keep him out of the fight largely so you all could handle the exterminator angels better. He was the most powerful of you, the most dangerous, the most vicious, he could handle this, he could do this, he...

He....

You looked towards the roof of the hotel, towards where you knew that cannibal Overlord was, where Adam had touched down and was now fighting him.

He was....he was too important. To you at least. You ripped a sword from a dead angel nearby and used it to cut through any other that got between you and the entryway to the hotel. You knew you were being stupid and reckless and silly because this was Alastor you were thinking about after all. But still, still, that bloody taste of worry had you and you couldn't get it to go away no matter how much you swallowed.

By the time you reached the roof things had reached a major head. Tentacles, shadows, a split second in which maybe, just maybe this would go better than the dread inside you predicted. But that colossal angelic asshole known as the First Man just had to be a dick and you stepped out in time to see him attack Alastor, breaking his staff and the confusion that filled you was matched by the unfiltered sound of the Radio Demon's voice. "What just happened?....Fuck."

"Alastor!" you called out and moved to try to get over to him.

What could you do? You were just a sinner, another of the souls trapped in Hell, prey to the angels, prey to the Overlords, prey to everyone. You weren't anything special, anything important, just another person who failed to be good in their mortal life and ended up down here instead. This was the greatest demon you knew and the most dangerous angel you knew of, and you, you were nothing.

But seeing Adam slash at Alastor, the Radio Demon go flying, be hurt, you narrowed your eyes and gripping tight the angel blade you'd stolen, you snarled with an intensity you weren't used to, an aggression you didn't know from within you. He stepped closer to Alastor, smirking, gloating, and not paying any mind as you came at him from the side, moving swift and deadly.

The blade dug in deep and the blood came a golden hue that should have beautiful if not coming from him. The grunt that came from Adam was less pain and more annoyance and he looked down at you like he might an ant. "What the hell bitch, you really want to fucking die first? Cuz I can totally do that for you."

For someone so big he moved quick. And his hand gripped around your throat tight, cutting off air and circulation very quick. Sinners shouldn't need to breathe, that was stupid, but you knew this sensation, you knew the feeling of choking and as he lifted you off your feet you struggled, let go of the sword to claw at his hands, to try to free yourself. His mask showed no more mercy than his troops did, the cruelty and sadism of beings who didn't even deign to show their faces when they came down to kill you; you reached out, wanting to at least see if you remove it, maybe scratch out his dumb eyes before he kills you. Give Alastor the time to get something done, to recover. At least you'd stopped this monster from hurting him.

Blood rushing through your ears as consciousness started to wane, you could have almost sworn you heard a chuckle, dark and familiar even without it's filter. Good. He was okay....

Adam was seconds from snapping your neck when a shadow tentacle lurched out and pierced his arm, forcing him to drop you. Already out like a light you fell limply but were caught by Alastor's own shadow that carefully held you in it's arms before returning to his side. The Radio Demon chuckled still, through the blood, through the pain, through the madness threatening to come forth as his form started to twist and deform, taking on his more demonic state.

"Have to disagree with you there," he hissed and smiled, feeling the changes, feeling the crawling of the Winter under his skin, the creature hungry, always hungry, and the chain that held him in place; the shadow moved to cover both of you as he continued, "Radio's not dead, but it is ending this broadcast."

Adam laughed through his own pain as the two of you were teleported away to safety and Alastor groaned as you reappeared elsewhere, hand over the gaping wound on his chest, trying to hold back the madness, the insanity, the Winter. His eyes slipped towards you in the process.

You should have not been up there, you were supposed to be out on the battlefield with all the others, with the fodder and the ones that mattered. You were a fool and an useless pawn, barely entertainment; you were not a monster, you were barely a sinner. You showed up at the hotel looking for sanctuary; you got along with them all and he found your presence....

Not unlikeable. Because you seemed to like him, knowing what he was, knowing who he was. You never treated him as anything less than a terror among demons but it didn't escape his attention how you perked up when he turned his usual gentlemanly facade towards him, as if he could ever be anything but to one of the fairer gender. But you never seemed like the type to try to face Adam knowing it could only be your death and the image of you moving at the much larger angel, sword in your hands, and your expression, it was burned in his chest.

You were not supposed to be there and you were not supposed to anything but something to throw at the angels to distract them, in hopes that Charlie would survive another fight. But the way you called out his name and the way your smile would shine when you looked at him, when he'd pet your head, when he'd tease and torment the other hotel residents, when he made all sorts of silly comments and puns. You, this stupid little sinner who didn't even really belong because what redemption was there for someone who wasn't even really a bad guy? What was your sin?

Alastor realized he didn't even know that one. It never mattered. You never mattered. But now you did.

The realization made his skin crawl more and he started towards the hotel again, arriving back after the battle, to his tower destroyed, to the rubble and debris and his own mind screaming.

He was a monster and he nearly died. He, the great Radio Demon, almost destroyed. For saving his friends. His friends. And then there was you and his mind raced more. No this could not be, no this would not be. The Winter and hunger under his skin crawled more and approaching his equipment he dug sharp claws into the metal, leaving gashes in his wake.

No.

No.

Not him.

But yes. And there you were, still asleep, still hurt; he turned to look at you and saw the bruises on your neck and thought of you clawing at Adam, ready to go down fighting. There because of....

Him.

An emotion he didn't recognize crawled up alongside the hunger and he tilted his head before reaching out with those sharp cruel claws to draw them, all too gently, along your cheek. His smile twitched, his eyes narrowed.

" 'Altruistist Alastor, died for his friends'," he mocked himself, "I'll find a way around this damned deal, just you wait. But tell me little one, what is this emotion I feel creeping up inside me? If you created it I expect you to explain it."

You didn't answer. Of course not. He took you from the shadow and cradled you carefully in his own arms.

Whatever it meant, whatever it was, it made his madness feel both better and worse. The hunger was dispelling a bit but now all he could think about was you.

How strange.

[cosmicskittlez]

God dude could you imagine being Starlo

You're running a small town because you love cowboys, and it's going great because you're the sheriff. And it's not only because you love cowboys, you also wanna cheer up your childhood best friend who's still pretty upset after her husband and daughter passed. And you also did it to help bring people to your family's farm so they don't go out of business, even if you don't talk to them often anymore. The cowboys are still a big part of it though

Then, get this, a human child comes down who's an authentic genuine cowboy! You go nuts, immediately bringing them into town to show them off and then training them under your wing seeing deputy potential in them. Sure you've been dragging your friends through the mud a little but you're sure they understand! Then when you finally crown them deputy you almost forget their badge, so when you go off to get it made you're shocked to find your own friends trying to attack them. They tell you that you've been being a jerk, which was true, but you weren't accepting it at the time and started being even more of a jerk. Then you run away from your problems and the little human child finds you, and you fight them.

You tie them up and shoot at them, and yet they still surrender. Your hand shakes as you almost shoot them before Ceroba comes back to rightfully tell you off. You admit you were being a jerk and think that'll be all, but then she drops a bombshell of news on you. Her daughter is alive, which is great! And to find her she wants to bring along the child, who admittedly was quite tough for their age and would be able to help her out quite a bit. So you wish them luck and let them go and go back to your friends to apologise. Luckily they let you right back in with open arms, and you share the news with them about Kanako, and they're thrilled! You all think up of a plan to spruce up Cerobas old home to to throw a welcome back party.

As you're cleaning though, you find a room. Hidden under the dining room. In it there's tapes, tapes of her husband telling her a plan to save the entire underground, at the cost of two souls. A boss monster, and a human. And you learn your friend's child is a boss monster, like her father. And you remember who Ceroba took with her, a human. And you realize you need to do something before it's too late. You rush to write a letter to the poor child and storm out of town with Ed in case it doesn't get there in time. You find them both just before they're about to go to the lab, you question her but all she can do is run. You chase after her and tell Ed to bring the kid home to safety, your heart still in disbelief at your friend. You never could've expected this

You chase her all throughout the core and all throughout New Home, trailing her with every step as she tries to run. Finally you both end up at a cherry blossom tree and you beg her to help you understand why she has to do this. You know her, she's kind and caring and motherly, so how could she hurt not only her own child but another? But before you can get an answer, a certain bluebird you jailed in poor judgement shows up with Clover right behind them. The rest of what happened was only a blur, Martlet tries to leave with Clover but she's struck down by Ceroba, and when you try to stop her she strikes you down all the same, and your head hits against the stone as your vision goes black.

You come to only a bit later, Ceroba and Clover now worse for wear but no longer fighting. You find out Clover even won, and pride rushes to you before you look at Ceroba. She looks so tattered and broken. You go to hug your friend and promise that no matter what, you're here for her, and you're going to help her move on despite everything. But then it was time for Clover to go to Asgore. You and Martlet try to convince them they they can't go, that they shouldn't go, that Clover can stay with one of them while you wait for another human. But as the arguing between everyone grows and grows, Clover's soul comes out of their body, a yellow light filling the air.

All they say is that it's time. You try again to convince them down from this metaphorical ledge but they persist, they want to give up their soul themselves. They want to help monsters in whatever way they can. You get one last moment with them before everything. You try to say everything but only so few words escape. Then they reach up to you and hand you their gun, the same gun you bought them. You kneel down and accept it with a heavy heart, trying not to let your tears show. Eventually you and Martlet walk out. A minute passes, and Ceroba walks out with a canister, holding a glowing yellow soul.

You take a breath as you make the trek to the king's castle. This can't be right. This can't be just. How could someone so kind and so brave be so ready to give their life for monsters that killed their own kind? And why did it have to be this way? You and your friends give up the soul to the king, holding back tears as you let your friends soul go one last time, and possibly never to see again. Martlet goes her own way, and you and Ceroba make your way back to the Wild East. You wait to tell the posse, it's already pretty late and you figure they've had enough pain for one day.

You sit down at the empty bar with your head low. Dina can tell somethings not right, but she knows better to dig. She serves you up a shot without you having to ask. You chug it down fast in hopes it'll wash away the day you've had. But your thoughts drift. Clover was just a child, scared and pained and hopeful all the same. They didn't deserve this. You can't even think what could cause anyone to deserve this. As you look down again, you trace a finger around the rim of the tiny shot glass. Their hand couldn't have fit around it if they tried. Your head drops as a tear falls into the empty glass.

They were just a child.

[a-case-of-attachment]

The Lamb & The Serpent

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, mentions of sex, swearing, awkwardness, angst, Lucifers past relationship with Lilith, misunderstandings, all the angst, Lilith being a bit of a bitch, mistakes are made, heartbreak, jealous Lilith, or is she just manipulative, who knows, I do I know.

Please click -> here <- to read on AO3

Lucifer was a mess.

It had been days since Lilith had shown up on his doorstep, acting like it wasn’t a huge deal she was back and looking just as perfect as she had when she had walked out on him all those years ago. Things had gone badly. Admittedly Lucifer hadn’t handled the situation very well, probably making it ten times worse than it should have been. He had never been all that good at dealing with strong emotions though, neither his own nor other peoples. Nor was he any good with highly stressful situations and unfortunately for him, Lilith’s return covered both those things. It probably wouldn’t have gone so badly if you had been at his side keeping him grounded and calm, but he had managed to mess that up as well, potentially ruining one of the two good things he had going in his life.

Lucifer had still been struck dumb, staring at Lilith like the world was ending when you had come down the stairs, all sleep soft and wearing nothing but your matching duck slippers and the shirt he had been wearing the day before. He hadn’t noticed at first, seemingly frozen to the spot but he had seen Lilith’s eyes flick up to something behind him, her smile falling into a frown as she narrowed her eyes. It had been your confused call of “Lucifer?” that finally had him moving, slowly turning his head to look over his shoulder at you. Your eyes franticly moved between the two of them, searching for some kind of explanation and clearly growing more worried when you didn’t get one.

Hindsight was a beautiful thing and as Lucifer looked back on what had happened that day, he wished that he had gone to you then. He wished that he had wrapped you in his arms and sworn he hadn’t known she was coming back. He should have told you then and there that he loved you, that he wanted to spend the rest of forever with you and that there was nothing left between him and Lilith for you to be worried about. He should have done a lot of things, things that would have saved you and him a lot of pain and heartbreak, but he hadn’t and instead Lucifer had gotten to watch as hurt and embarrassment flashed across your face, Lilith’s voice loud and clear as she asked, “really Luci, a sinner?”

You had tugged down the hem of his shirt, your embarrassed blush deepening as you tried to hide the fact you were naked underneath. His shirt wasn’t quite long enough though and all you did was flash them a glimpse of the teeth marks he had left on your neck the night before; still angry and red despite having been done hours ago. Lucifer didn’t know what Lilith had done but your eyes had snapped to her, going wide as you pressed a hand over the marks on your neck. Tears welled up, clinging to your lashes and threatening to fall but you had been quicker, hurriedly insisting that you “should go,” before you had turned away from them, disappearing up the stairs as quickly as you could whilst pulling the back of his shirt down.  

He had just stood there, staring at the spot you had been and failing to understand what was going on. This wasn’t how the day was supposed to go. Lucifer had plans, had wanted to spend the day wrapped within your arms and basking in the love and happiness that you inspired within him. Everything was wrong though, that happiness having vanished the moment he opened the door. It was like the last eight years hadn’t happened, Lucifer right back at the beginning of the end for his and Lilith’s relationship. He felt like a hollowed-out shell, mind numb and empty as he continued to exist who no purpose or direction in his life, alone and unwanted. Lucifer knew that wasn’t true though. Things had changed so much since Lilith had left; he had changed. He wasn’t the same sad and broken man he had been, having found a new lease of life with Charlie, the hotel and you. He knew all this and yet that didn’t change a thing, Lucifer was still adrift within the darkness of his mind, trapped in the past and watching his future slip away.

Delicate fingers curled around his wrist, a thumb gently rubbing circles against the delicate skin. Wordlessly Lucifer turned back toward Lilith, eyes fixed on where they were touching. Her fingers were cool, her pail lilac skin in stark contrast against the dark black of his own. Before, when they had still been happy and in love this had meant everything to him. He had craved her touch, lighting up like a star when she so much as brushed a finger against his. After she had left Lucifer had longed for it, dreamed about feeling it one last time and crying when the memory of it had started to fade. He had been a mess to start with, missing her like he had lost a limb, but as the years had passed he had come to terms with it, missing the closeness of another more than her specifically. Now it felt like a band of ice around his wrist, a chain that weighed him down and dragged him back to the past where he desperately didn’t want to be.

It hadn’t felt like they had been stood there that long but the sound of hurried steps on the stairs said otherwise, Lucifer so caught up in his head that you had enough time to get dressed and pack the small bag you had slung over your shoulder. He had turned to look at you, Lilith’s icy cold grip still in place and chasing away his natural heat. Lucifer didn’t feel right, all out of sorts and halfway between loosing control and shutting down completely. Maybe if he had a better grip on his mental state, he would have shaken Lilith off, dropped down to his knees in front of you and begged for you to stay. He didn’t though and when he turned to look at you all he found was resignation and loss, your gaze focused on where he and Lilith touched.

You didn’t even look at him as you walked past, head down and eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Not even when he said your name, sounding just as desperate and lost as he felt. You did stop though, head turned ever so slightly in his direction so you could tell him that “its ok Lucifer, just, we’ll talk later yeah?” You don’t stick around long enough for him to answer, pressing yourself against the wall just to be as far away from Lilith as you can. Without even a glance backwards you disappeared down the street, pulling your hood up as you went to hide your ears. It wasn’t until after you had gone that Lucifer realised that you had still had his shirt on, the slightly rumbled fabric only just visible under your jacket.

It cracked his heart to watch you go, the feeling that he had just lost something important sinking into him like a weight. It’s to much like watching Lilith walk out all those years ago, except this time Lucifer doesn’t want to let you go. Doesn’t want to just stand there and let this happen because he doesn’t want to lose you. Doesn’t want to wake up seven years from now alone and depressed, hating himself for not doing something to keep you by his side. He can’t go through that again, he won’t. Lucifer loves you, more than he thought he would ever be able to love another again. If he could tell you that, if he could make you understand the depths of his devotion to you than maybe you wouldn’t look at him like he had ripped your heart out and trodden on it. Maybe you would say it back to him and Lucifer would get to hold you in his arms again.

He doesn’t even realise his halfway out the door until Lilith’s grip tightens, your name dying on his lips as he snapped his head back to glare at her. He had been halfway through demanding she let go when Lilith had cut him off, her voice gentle and calming as she urged him to “let her go Lucifer. You’ll only make things worse for her if you make a scene out on the street, especially looking like that.” It’s only then that Lucifer really notices his state of dress. Feeling exposed and embarrassed Lucifer had curled in slightly on himself, wrapping his arms around his chest in an attempt to hide his half-undressed state. It was stupid, Lilith had seen him with far less on before but now he felt vulnerable, ashamed of the state he was in. Not because of what he had obviously been doing with you to get in this state but because of Lilith herself. She looked immaculate, not a hair out of place or a single smudge to her makeup. She looked every bit the queen of Hell, stood tall and proud like everyone was beneath her and in that moment Lucifer felt just that, his fears and inadequacies come rushing forward and swallow him whole.

Lilith was right. If he went after you now, he would only make things worse for you. He was good at that, making things worse despite his best intentions. You were clearly hurt, thinking Heaven knows what about him and why Lilith was at his door.  You had needed him to reassure you of your place in his life and his feelings towards you, but he had done nothing like the pathetic coward he was. He didn’t deserve you, had known it all along yet he had still pursued you, somehow managing to convince you to give him your time and affection but all it had gotten you was hurt, and it was all his fault. He never wanted to hurt you, never wanted to be the reason you looked so lost and broken and yet here he was. The very reason you had fled his home with tears in your eyes after having given him one of the best nights of his life. Why was he like this? Everything he loved always got twisted around and turned into shit, like his very touch was a plague on all of creation.

So lost in his darkening thoughts, Lucifer didn’t even realise he had been moved away from the door and led into the parlour until Lilith was gently pushing him down onto the couch, her ice-cold hands pressing down on his shoulders until he slumped back into the plush seat. She sunk down next to him, close and yet somehow miles away. They sat in silence for a while, Lucifer trying to keep his tears at bay so he didn’t seem even more pathetic than he already did. He was the first to speak, unable to stand the silence a moment longer. His voice sounded as small and broken as he felt, it nothing more than a whisper as he asked her “why are you here Lilith? Why now?”

As it turned out Charlie was the reason she had come back, having heard about the hotel and the fight with Heaven that their daughter had led. Lilith had been worried and impressed, proud of Charlie for standing up for what she believed was right whilst afraid of how Heaven would retaliate with Adam dead at the hands of a sinner. Lucifer had sat there, listening to Lilith talk about Charlie, the hotel and Hell like she hadn’t been gone for almost eight years, not really paying attention as his mind began to fill with static. It was all just pointless noise to him, Lucifer mindlessly humming and nodding along at what he hoped were all the right points. He felt numb, hollowed out and empty. This morning he had been so happy, full of hope and excitement for the future but now it was all gone, Lucifer unable to drag those feelings back up despite how badly he wanted to.

He wanted to go back to this morning, to the very moment he had opened his eyes and realised you were in his arms. He would do things so much differently. He would have woken you up there and then to tell you how much he loved you, told you of his intentions to make you his queen one day and asked for your permission to scream his devotion to you from his window for all of Hell to hear. He wouldn’t have gone downstairs, definitely wouldn’t have answered the door no matter how loudly or persistently Lilith had knocked. Lucifer would have stayed wrapped up in you, safe in your embrace and completely ignorant of the world beyond his bedroom walls. Maybe then you would still be here with him. Maybe then Lucifer wouldn’t feel like he was already losing you before he even had the chance to truly have you.

Charlie had turned up at the door not even an hour after you had left, eyes wide and full of disbelief as she stared at Lilith like she wasn’t sure if her mother was real or not. Apparently when you had arrived back at the hotel you had run straight into Charlie, barely managing to get out that “your mums back in town,” before you practically ran off in the direction of your room. Charlie hadn’t stopped to think things through, running all the way to Lucifers home to find out if you had been telling the truth.

Not wanting Charlie to see him in such a state, Lucifer had simply waved his hand and he had been stood there in his suit, his hair perfectly quaffed and not a single trace of flour to be found. It hadn’t been till later that Lucifer had realised his rushed gesture had also gotten rid of the melted candles and flower petals from the night before, his heart clenching painfully at the fact that it was all gone. His night of love and passion with you swept away like it was nothing. Like it was something shameful to be hidden away from those closest to him.

It had been easy enough for Lucifer to fake a smile, greeting Charlie with a level of enthusiasm he really couldn’t muster. She had given him a confused and worried look, but it had been easy enough to direct her attention onto Lilith, Charlie eager to fill her mother in on everything she had missed. For hours Lucifer had listened to Charlie talk about everything and anything that had happened in her life since Lilith had left, skipping no detail though she often got ahead of herself and had to backtrack so what she was saying made sense. The whole time Lucifer had said nothing, fake smile still in place as he summoned cake and tea periodically throughout the day. Charlie tried to get him involved but his short one-word answers didn’t really open up the conversation. The only thing that got any sort of reaction from him was the mention of you, Charlie excitedly telling Lilith about how nice you were and how helpful you had been with the hotel, completely oblivious to the fact Lucifer had gone rigid at the mention of your name.

Lilith had seemed worryingly interested in you, shooting Lucifer knowing looks that had him wanting to sink into the sofa and disappear. He felt judged, like Lilith was pulling apart every little thing about him and inspecting it for flaws, weaknesses that could be exploited. He didn’t want her attention on you, didn’t want you to feel the same level of uneasiness he did so he tried to move the conversation on, his laugh clearly fake and not hiding his nerves in the slightest as he insisted that Lilith didn’t want to hear about his personal life. Lilith had easily brushed off his attempts, asking if the “helpful little lamb at the hotel is the same one I found half naked on your stairs this morning? I must say Lucifer she looked quite, ravished. Do you take all the hotel staff home or just this one in particular?” Charlie had blushed at that, falling uncomfortably silent as Lucifer had covered his face with a hand, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

 He knew what he should say, that he should tell Lilith that it was none of her business because she had been the one to leave him eight years ago and disappear from Hell, even though she insisted she had been down in Gluttony the whole time, witch was one of the biggest lies Lucifer had ever heard and that was saying something. He should tell her that he had moved on, that he loved you and that what she was implying was so wrong it wasn’t in the same universe. Lucifer knew exactly what he should tell Lilith but just like every other time his words failed him and all he could get out was a meek pathetic sounding “she’s nice.” Even Charlie was looking at him like he had gone mad, probably not understanding why he wasn’t gushing about yours and his relationship like he tended to, and Lucifer did want to do that. Wanted to scream his devotion to you from the rooftops but Lilith’s knowing gaze over her teacup had him faltering, not wanting to share any more of his relationship with his ex-wife than already had been.

By the time Charlie was getting ready to leave it was late and Lucifer was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide under his duvet as he finally got the chance to talk to you. That was if you were still awake and if you accepted his call. His plans to grovel for forgiveness were quickly brought to an abrupt end though when Charlie had asked Lilith where she was planning on staying. When Lilith had said she would just go to a hotel Charlie had obviously offered her own, excited to show Lilith everything she had been working on. Lucifer though had panicked at the suggestion, frantically blurting out that she could stay “here! Lilith can uh stay here. In the house. With me. Here’s fine. Yes, it is. No need to go all the way to the hotel when there’s a perfectly fine bed upstairs. NOT my bed. A different one. At the other end of the house. But still here, and not the hotel.” He was rambling, he knew that, but he couldn’t have Lilith going to the hotel. Not when you were there.

Charlie had been reluctant about it all, but Lilith had agreed and soon enough it had just been Lucifer and Lilith stood in the hallway, Charlie having headed back to the hotel with a promise that they would come visit so she could give Lilith the grand tour. It had been awkward, Lucifer feeling like he was trapped in a cage with a wild animal that was sure to attack at just the slightest movement. Lilith had been the one to break the silence, asking about her room and reluctantly Lucifer had led her up the stairs, feeling very much like a man on the way to the gallows as he went straight to her old suites. She had thanked him for letting her stay, even going as far as to tell him that it had been “nice to see you again Luci.”  He had mumbled out some sort of reply along the same lines, bidding her good night before quickly heading to his own room.

It looked exactly the same as it had when he had left it that morning, except instead of you in his bed it was just the blanket he had conjured for you, haphazardly thrown across the wrinkled sheets. Lucifer didn’t even bother to get undressed, crawling onto his bed and cuddling the plush blanket to his chest. It still smelt of you, of the night before and the morning after, of all his hopes and dreams for the future he so desperately wanted with you.

He had tried to call you, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he listened to the phone ringing and ringing. It wasn’t until the third time he tried calling that you picked up except it hadn’t been you. Well, not just you. Angel Dusts voice had been the loudest, loudly proclaiming that “I don’t care if he’s the king of this shit hole, I’ll tell him exactly where he can shove his... HEY! Watch where your grabbing,” before the line went dead. Lucifer tries calling back, but it doesn’t connect, and he’s left feeling defeated, the phone falling from his grip as he rolls back over. He could go to the hotel, but he doubts that would end well. He doesn’t want to upset you any more than you clearly already are and there’s always the chance that Angel will try and shoot him on sight. Not that it would do anything more than tickle, but he highly doubted you or Charlie would appreciate him dropping Angel Dust through a portal to the other side of Pentagram City.

Sighing Lucifer curled tighter around the blanket, burying his face into the plush fabric and breathing in the slowly fading smell of you. He clings to it like somehow that will stop you from slipping through his fingers, like if he holds on tight enough you wouldn’t possibly be able to leave him. What if it’s not enough though? He’s hurt you, his failure to act causing you to flee like there was already nothing to keep you here. By giving you time to think is he just making it easier for you to walk away, thinking that he doesn’t care? But if he showed up at the hotel, desperate and close to breaking would you finally see that he just isn’t worth it? Feeling like nothing he could do would be right Lucifer pressed his face deep into the blanket and silently he cried out his frustration and pain, his whole body shaking with every sob and sharp breath.

The next day didn’t go any better, but it didn’t get any worse. He feels exhausted, not having been able to get any sleep the night before as his guilt and self-loathing had gotten the better of him. He truly hated himself for how he had delt with things the day before, feeling that he had not only let you down but himself as well. He needed to fix things, make sure you understood that his behaviour yesterday didn’t have anything to do with any feelings you thought he still might harbour for his ex-wife and everything to do with his delicate mental state and eons worth of feeling like he was incapable of doing anything right. Lilith’s unexpected arrival had taken him back to that and instead of standing his ground Lucifer had crumbled, taking you with him.

He does try and call you again, several times but just like the night before they don’t connect, and Lucifer begins to sink further into himself. He lets his wings drape across him, blocking off the world along with most of the light. He wallows in the darkness, self-pity getting the better of him as he lets every mistake he had ever made since the dawn of time replay in his mind like a greatest hits reel. He spends the day like that, still clinging to the blanket and making himself feel a thousand times worse. No one bothers him, not even Lilith and though he hopes that by some miracle you will come through the door he knows it won’t happen, halfway convinced that this is just another level to his punishment for defying Gods wishes. It seemed fitting that he would be sent someone so perfect he couldn’t help but falling madly in love with them only for them to be snatched from his grasp when he was at his happiness, and it be all his fault.

At some point Lucifer does manage to get some sleep, having cried himself to sleep, to exhausted to keep going. He’s woken up only a few hours later by someone knocking on his door, Lilith’s voice slightly muffled as she calls through the thick wood that she was “going out. Charlote wants to introduce me to her friends and show me this hotel of hers.” Lucifer is up and out of the bed in seconds, practically tripping over his feet and blankets in his desperation to get to the door. He yanks it open, frantically calling out that he’s “coming! To the hotel. I’m coming to the hotel as well.” Lilith’s only a couple of steps down the hall, her surprise quickly morphing into a wicked smile that has Lucifer thinking that he might have made a mistake by being so franticly insistent that he come with her. It’s just, you're at the hotel.

Lucifer missed you, probably an unhealthy amount considering it had only been two days since he had last seen you but that didn’t make it any less true. He wanted to see you and the easiest way to do that would be to go with Lilith to the hotel and if he could function as some sort of buffer between the two of you then that was even better. Lilith’s interest in you had worried him and Lucifer didn’t want her to start interrogating you like you had committed some sort of crime by being with him. More than anything though Lucifer doesn’t want you feeling uncomfortable in your own home, and Lilith being there was sure to leave you feeling uneasy.

It wasn’t just to act as your knight in a white suit though, Lucifer was hopeful that by going to the hotel he would be able to fix whatever damage his actions or lack there of had caused. He wanted to get you alone, preferably before tea and whilst Lilith was off with Charlie having her tour of the hotel. Lucifer would probably be able to bribe Nifty to chase off Angel Dust as well, insuring he would have the time to talk to you and hopefully be able to convince you to give him a second chance. He was terrified that he had already messed things up beyond repair though and that cornering you in the hotel would just get him a slap and a demand to leave you alone. If you did say it was over Lucifer would accept that. Sure, he would be heartbroken, but he didn’t want to cause any more problems for you. But if there was even a glimmer of hope that things weren’t over for the two of you than Lucifer would grasp it with both hands, determined to prove himself to you.

Lilith had made a comment about his dishevelled state, but Lucifer had been to focused on his plan to really register any ill intent behind her words, agreeing that he was “a bit of a mess.” All it took was a snap of his fingers and Lucifer was ready to go, not a single hair out of place and his suit and shirt wrinkle free. Lilith had been watching him, brows furrowed as Lucifer practically bounced down the stairs. He couldn’t help it; he was excited to see you and full of hope once more.

He had opened a portal to the hotel, trying to put as much distance between himself and Lilith as he possibly could just to emphasise that they weren’t actually together even if they arrived together. Lucifer had not been expecting to find the parlour already full, seemingly everyone currently staying at the hotel filling the space. Lucifer had frozen, eyes wide and unsure what to do with the sudden attention, his happy smile faltering. Lilith though had just breezed through the portal, all smiles and kind words as she greeted the sinners excited to see their Queen like she knew them all personally. Lucifer had shuffled in behind her, uncertain and awkward as the portal closed behind him and suddenly feeling out of his depth, having avoided any sort of large gatherings since before Lilith had left.

He had forgotten how much the residents of Hell had flocked to her, hypnotised by her voice and desire to raise Hell up from the cesspit of sin that it was. She truly was beautiful when in her element, glowing with a confidence that Lucifer had always been in awe of. She had always been a magnificent performer though, able to turn a crowd with just a smile and now was no different. Now that he wasn’t so blinded by his infatuation for her, Lucifer could see Lilith’s interactions with the sinners for what they were, a performance designed to draw people in and win them over. That wasn’t to say that she didn’t genuinely care or believe in what she was saying but she just kept a part of herself back, her true self hidden from the masses. No one else seemed to notice, not even Charlie as she excitedly introduced Lilith to Vaggie and the others, practically vibrating as she jumped from one introduction to another, pulling Lilith along behind her as she went.

As the crowd moved Lucifer finally got a glimpse of you, sat at the bar with Angel Dust and looking down at the drink in your hand like your whole world had fallen apart. You had dark circles under your red rimmed eyes, a clear sign that you had been crying. His heart tightened painfully at that, knowing he was the cause and wanting to punch himself for it. Angel leant in, whispering something that had your head snapping up and eyes going wide as you locked your gaze with him.

It was like everything else around him vanished, Lucifers entire world narrowing down to you. It had only been a couple of days, but Lucifer felt like he hadn’t seen you in forever, his heart swelling with longing whilst it cracked with regret and shame. You seemed just as trapped by his gaze as he was yours, his own feelings of longing reflected back at him but instead of regret he found only resignation and acceptance. You offered him a sad shaky smile before looking away and turning your back on him. It felt like an end, like everything Lucifer had wanted was slipping through his fingers like sand. No. That couldn’t happen, he wouldn’t allow it. You couldn’t just give up like that, like what you had shared hadn’t meant enough to you to even try and fight for it. Lucifer was halfway across the still crowded room before he even realised he was moving, trying not to be too aggressive as he pushed sinners out of his way in his haste to get to you.

Lucifer wasn’t quite quick enough though, Charlie making it to you before Lucifer could. She smiled brightly as she introduced you to Lilith, spinning you round and into her side so she could sling her arm over your shoulders in an awkward hug. Your initial shock didn’t last long and in the blink of an eye you were offering Lilith a bright smile, bowing your head slightly as you greeted her with surprisingly genuine politeness. Lucifer got there just in time for Lilith to answer your greeting, her violet eyes dragging over you in obvious appraisal as she told you that “Charlie has told me so much about you.” You and Lucifer both flinch slightly when Lilith says that, making it blindingly obvious that Lucifer hadn’t been the one to bring you up.

You recover from the metaphorical blow first, eyes dull and smile forced as you spoke about how happy you were to be helping Charlie with the hotel and all the hard work she had been putting in to making it work. It’s awkward, and uncomfortable for everyone involved apart from Lilith who doesn’t seem to notice you are looking at something over her shoulder instead of at her, nor that Charlie’s eyes are darting between the three of you or that Lucifer has tugged his hat down slightly, looking pained and embarrassed as he tried to catch your eye to no avail.

He can’t take it anymore, wanting to get you as far away from this train wreck of a situation before it gets any worse. His nervous laughter is loud and awkward when he cuts Lilith off before she has a chance to speak again, franticly trying to turn her in the opposite direction as he asks Charlie “how about that tour huh? Lots to see before Lilly’s got to head home.” He doesn’t realise the mistake he’s made until he sees the gleam in Lilith’s eyes and his stomach drops like the floor has just disappeared out from under him and he’s plummeting down into the unknown darkness below.

Lucifer hadn’t meant to use the old nickname; it just having slipped out in his desperation to get her away from you, but it was worse than just that. So much worse because Lilith had said “It’s lovely to be home again. I really had missed it up here in Pride and being back at the manor with Lucifer again, it’s just like old times.” With every word Lilith said Lucifer could see the light dimming in your eyes, your ears twitching downwards and smile clearly starting to strain. Lucifer tries to tell you that it’s not how it sounds but he can’t even get your name out before Lilith is looping her arm through his and pulling him along as she starts her tour of the hotel, Charlie quick to catch up with Vaggie not far behind. Craning his neck round Lucifer hoped to catch your attention but what he sees is you downing the drink you had been holding before practically slamming the glass down on the bar and quickly making your escape in the opposite direction they were going. Angel Dust is the one that catches Lucifer looking, shooting him a mean glare and using all four hands to flip him off before he goes after you.

Lucifer doesn’t pay attention on the tour, letting Charlie talk and Lilith lead him along by the arm. He’s too busy berating himself to listen to what’s going on let alone take part, mind firmly stuck on you and the dull emptiness you had looked at him with. How could he have been so stupid? He should have realised what him letting Lilith stay at the manor would look like to everyone else and especially you. He had been so desperate to keep her away from you that he hadn’t even stopped to think about the damage it would cause letting her stay with him for Heaven knows how long. Of course it would upset you. He would be angry too if you had an ex-partner move in next door to you at the hotel out of the blue. He really was an idiot. An idiot that was making everything worse just by existing. He really needed to talk to you, get all these mistakes and misunderstandings sorted out before they became too big to fix. He just needed to go find you, hopefully somewhere private where the two of you could be alone and just talk it out though if you wanted to scream, he didn’t think he would begrudge you that, not after how he had acted.

Lucifer had tried to slip away when Charlie had started talking about how she was planning on filling all the empty rooms. He had tried to be as discreet as possible, gently slipping his arm out from under Lilith’s and taking a small half step backwards. That was as far as he had gotten though before Lilith was grabbing hold of his hand and quite literally pulling him into the conversation, turning everyone’s attention on to him as she had asked about his role within the hotel. He had tried to laugh it off, insisting that he was just the financier but then Charlie had started insisting he was more than that, tugging him free of Lilith’s hold and having him lead the tour with her.

Any other time Lucifer would be ecstatic, proud of his little girl and everything she had achieved. Not that he wasn’t proud of her, but he couldn’t help but feel that with every step he took further into the hotel he was losing his chance to make things right with you. She looked so happy though, arm looped through his and smiling brightly as she told Lilith some of the tamer stories she had of the current guests. He couldn’t ruin that by running off, no matter how badly he wanted to. So, Lucifer had stayed, enjoying the time spent with his daughter and trying not to think how every second he spent casually touring the hotel was another second you had to convince yourself that Lucifer wasn’t worth the time you had given him.

It was late once the tour was over, it having taken a lot longer this time round compared to when Lucifer had been the one being shown around. He couldn’t blame Charlie for being excited and wanting to show the place of, but they hadn’t needed to look at every floor, over half of them just the same generic corridor with rows of identical empty rooms. Feeling frustrated and desperate Lucifer had been quick to usher Lilith through the portal, practically shoving her the last few steps before calling out that “I’m going out. Don’t wait up. Bye,” and letting the thing snap closed before she could say anything. Charlie and Vaggie had been shocked at his behaviour, but Lucifer had waved them off as he took off running towards your room. He was a man on a mission, and he wasn’t about to let anyone get in his way. He was going to your room, and he was going to explain everything to you, grovel on his knees for forgiveness if he had to and make it 1000% clear that he was not interested in starting anything with Lilith again. You were the one he wanted, not her.

The problem was you weren’t in your room, Lucifers insistent knocking either going unnoticed or ignored. He had panicked a little then, worry creeping up on him as he tried to think of where else you could be. He had seen you with the spider earlier so maybe you were still with him? It was a bit of a long shot considering how long ago he had seen the two of you together, but Lucifer didn’t really stop to think about that, spinning on his heals and heading down to the bar in search of Angel Dust and hopefully you.

That hope is short lived because when Lucifer skids round the corner he finds the bar practically empty, the only person inside being Husk who was slumped over the bar, halfway through a bottle of presumably cheap booze. Lucifer startled him when he slams down his cane on the bar top, demanding to know if he knew where you were. He wasn’t being very polite, but Lucifer was desperate, feeling like every second that went by was a second he was closer to loosing you entirely. Husk had given him a look that Lucifer could only describe as disappointed, sighing heavily as he told Lucifer that you were “out. Angel Dust and Cherrie decided she needed to let loose after that shit show this morning.” That hurts, Lucifer wincing at the reminder of how awkward things were when he and Lilith had arrived at the hotel that morning. He sinks down onto a barstool, arms wrapping around his head and crushing his hat as he let his head smack against the wooden bar top.

Out. You were out with Angel Dust and that cyclops women doing Heaven knows what and all because he was too much of a wreck to stand up for himself and deal with things the correct way. He could go after you, could demand that Husk tell him exactly what bar or club you had gone to but in the end what would that accomplish? He would make a scene, probably make a fool of himself for all of Hell to see and make things worse for you in the long run. But what other choice did he have? To just sit around at the bar and wallow in self-pity like the pathetic idiot he is, waiting for you to return to the hotel just so he could ambush you as soon as you came through the door? Angel Dust probably wouldn’t let him get within ten feet of you, uncaring that Lucifer was the king of Hell and knowing that he would never hurt the sinner because that would upset Charlie.

He could just leave. Go back home and wait till the morning before trying again. The thought of going back to the manor with Lilith made his stomach turn slightly, not wanting to be trapped in there with her and all the painful memories her presence pulled up from the dark recesses of his mind. It wasn’t just that though. Lucifer got the horrible feeling that if he left without doing anything at all that would be it. There would be no chance to talk and fix things in the morning. These last few months of happiness gone in a flash, leaving Lucifer all alone once more.

Husk doesn’t let him wallow for long, practically slamming a glass of some deep amber looking liquid down in front of him. He doesn’t look happy but that’s normal for him and Lucifer accepts the drink with a mumbled “thank you,” before taking a tentative sip of the smoky liquid. He promptly almost chokes on it when Husk speaks, eyes going wide as he tells Lucifer that he isn’t “one of those bar tenders that listens to your problems and dishes out advice. They're your hang ups and fuck ups not mine, deal with them yourself. That being said, that girl cares a lot about you, and she deserves a helluva lot better than being dumped like hot trash as soon as your ex come back around after up and leaving your sorry ass. So how about you ditch the pity party and actually fix your fuck up whilst you still can because, taking a girls virginity then moving your ex-wife back in the morning after? That’s fucked up even for the King of this shit hole.” Lucifer sits there, eyes wide and grip tight enough on his glass that it starts to crack. Little fractures that spread across the glass like spiderwebs.

Was that really what people thought? That he had been using you as a stand in and that as soon as Lilith had shown up again, he had just abandoned you for her? Was that what you thought? He sees you then, that resigned and accepting look in your eyes as you stare back at him. It’s like you had been expecting this to happen and had come to terms with it long before you had needed to. This whole time had you always been waiting for him to break your heart, expecting him to want nothing else from you other than to be a stand in for his estranged wife? His wedding ring glints in the light, a cruel reminder of his painful past and rapidly disappearing future. He suddenly understands why you had never brought it up, had never asked him to take it off. You had never been expecting him to, accepting that when it came to Lilith she would always be his greatest love and that you would never come close to holding a place like that in his heart.

The glass shatters in Lucifers hand, liquid spilling across the bar top as shards dig painfully into his palm. Vaguely he hears Husk cursing but Lucifers to preoccupied to really hear it. You had it all wrong. Yes, Lucifer had loved Lilith and despite everything they had been through and how her very presence reminded Lucifer of all his short comings a part of him would always care for her. She was the mother of his child, his first love, his first everything and they had eons of happiness together, but it hadn’t been enough to survive the worst of times. Lucifer had moved on, his feelings for Lilith now more like that of a dear old friend then a lover.

Lucifer loved you. Was madly, deeply and irrevocably in love with you. He would bring paradise to Hell just to see you smile. He would pull the very stars from the sky to show you that they paled in comparison to your eyes. He would build you a grand palace if you asked, would fill every room with rare jewels and riches. He would have the very streets of Hell scrubbed and cleaned so you didn’t have to walk amongst the filth and bloodshed. Lucifer would grant your every wish and desire. He would let you sit upon his throne whilst he curled at your feet, head in your lap and content to have your fingers in his hair. He would give you anything including himself, would even cut out his heart and offer it to you on a silver platter if that was what you need from him to truly even begin to understand what you meant to him.

He’s actions had been rash and desperate, clouded over by the past and his own failings. He would make it right though, would fix his fuck up as Husk had so eloquently put it. He was right after all, you deserved better than thinking you were anything less than everything to him. Shaking the glass from his hand Lucifer had stood, nodding his head and thanking him for “the advice,” before turning and heading towards the hotel doors. He ignored the other mans shout from behind him, his mind preoccupied with his forming plan as he started on his walk back to the manor.

That night Lucifer moved out of the manor and into his rooms at the hotel.

Lilith had been waiting for him when he returned to the manor. Though she made it look like she had just been enjoying a glass of wine and a book in the parlour, Lucifer knew she had been just passing time till he came back, probably expecting him to be heartbroken and so in need of comfort that he would just walk back into her arms. Well, she was wrong. Lucifer wasn’t heartbroken, not yet anyway. Clearing his throat Lucifer had stood in the hallway with his head held high and determined gaze fixed on Lilith who had turned slightly to look at him over the back of the sofa. His voice had been clear and steady as he told her that he was “moving out, tonight. I’m going to stay at the hotel for now until another permanent living arrangement can be made. The manor is yours, do with it what you will.”

Lilith had looked a little taken-a-back at his statement, gracefully rising to her feet and trying to dissuade him from his decision as she came round the back of the sofa. Lucifer had stayed firm though, holding a hand up and cutting her off before she could even get close to convincing him to stay. Instead, he was honest with her, his stern determination softening slightly as he explained that he “should have moved out years ago. This place holds to many memories, not all of them good and I have been keeping myself locked away in her for too long. It’s time I let go of the past and moved on with my life and I can’t do that here.” The with you goes unspoken but Lucifer can see the flash of understanding that lights up Lilith’s eyes. She leans back against the sofa, her hands curling around the edge and nails digging in slightly. Neither of them says anything, don’t really even look at each other as they both process what Lucifer had just said.

He hadn’t been planning on saying it but that didn’t make it any less true. Lucifer had been holding onto the past in many ways he hadn’t even realised, not just the ring but the house as well, it still being the exact same as it had been when Lilith had left. Nothing had changed for so long, Lucifers life stagnant even as he clung onto a time long since passed. But things were changing now and for the better. His relationship with Charlie was getting better every day and he was finally starting to take more of an active role as King of Hell, and then there was you. His sweet little lamb who had been the first person in a long time to make him feel like he was enough just as he was. Lucifers life had been good, or at least it had been right up until a couple of days ago, but Lucifer was going to fix it, and this was the first step to doing so.

Lilith was the one to break the silence, finally looking at Lucifer as she asks, “she isn’t just a fling, is she?” He’s not expecting that, eyes wide in his surprise but it fades quickly, Lucifer smiling his first genuine smile in two days. He doesn’t hesitate this time, his voice found as he admits that “no, she isn’t.” Lilith takes it all surprising well, telling him that she’s glad he had found someone who makes him happy and admitting that she had been “rather jealous when I first saw her. You will apologise to her for me won’t you Luci? I wasn’t particularly welcoming, and I would hate for my behaviour to come between the two of you.” Of course, Lucifer assures her that he will, smiling brightly and trying to hide the small thrill he gets at knowing that how happy and in love he had been had made Lilith jealous. Lucifer does laugh though when Lilith asks him if you realise how lucky you are to have Lucifers love and devotion, insisting that he was the lucky one. You could have anyone you wanted but you had chosen Lucifer and that made him the luckiest person in all of Hell.

He and Lilith spend almost an hour talking after that, Lucifer telling her how you two had met and how he had gone about courting you. Lilith seems genuinely interested, laughing at his failed attempts at flirting and even teasing him about his incapability to realise when someone what flirting with him. It’s nice, reminiscent of eons ago when they had still told each other everything, open and honest in a way that they hadn’t been towards the end.  It changes nothing about his decision though and before the hour can pass fully Lucifer is excusing himself to go pack, politely declining Lilith’s offer to help. They don’t say goodbye, Lilith offering him a hopeful “see you soon?” that he finds himself repeating back to her. Maybe not tomorrow or the day after but at some point? That would be nice. Maybe even a family dinner, especially considering it would now involve you and Vaggie. He didn’t doubt that it would be awkward to start with, but he had his own hopes that somehow it would all work out in the end.

It doesn’t take him all that long to pack, everything important boxed up and moved to the hotel with a snap of his fingers. It’s not like he had much of importance to take with him anyway. A few trinkets he had picked up over the centuries and things from Charlie’s childhood that had sentimental value. There were photos and paintings that he wanted to keep, like the one of Charlie in her strange gothic phase or the one of her as a baby sat on top of a large rubber duck and smiling brightly as she laughed. There were so many of her at different stages in her life, ones of him and the other sins as well as the few friends he had made down here but there were also ones of him, Lilith and Charlie that he couldn’t bear to part with, the three of them smiling and laughing together that were important and precious memories from his past. He didn’t think you would begrudge him those, but he didn’t want you to think his memories with you were any less important to him. He hoped that one day soon he would be able to place photos of you amongst them, your bright smile and infectious laughter lighting up his walls just like they did to his life.

Eventually all that’s left for him to take are the pyjamas you had gifted him along with his duck slippers and the blanket he had conjured for you. They’re all folded neatly, stacked in a little pile on his bed that he scooped up into his arms and holds close to his chest. He gives the room a once over, eyes lingering on the bed as he recalls how peaceful and content you had looked curled up on the sheets. He’s half tempted to take it with him, the memory of your first time together such a bright spot in his life that he doesn’t want to leave a single piece of it behind. It wasn’t the bed that had made your night together so perfect though and taking it with him would just be impractical. With his mind still full of you he had opened a portal and stepped through into his rooms at the hotel, not feeling even a speck of regret at his decision.

Once the portal is closed Lucifer places the pyjamas and slippers on his bed, fully intending to wear them when he got into it later. For now, he keeps hold of the blanket and makes his way out into the halls, heading towards your room once more. His nock is gentle and steady this time, but his heart is beating just as rapidly as he waits for you to answer. You don’t, clearly not yet back from wherever Angel Dust and Cherrie had taken you. That should worry him slightly, but he trusts you, knows that even angry and hurt the most you will do is have one to many drinks and he trusts Angel to look after you, his own reforming conscience preventing him from letting anything bad happen to you.

He should go but he had come here for a reason, and he didn’t see the harm in leaving the blanket in your room to find when you got back. Maybe you would even find comfort in it, curling up in the plush fabric like he had the night before. Lucifer tried the handle on a whim, not expecting the door to actually open and yet it does, the soft click sounding far too loud in the otherwise quiet corridor. He steps inside quickly, shutting the door behind him and grumbling about you being far too trusting for living in Hell. Lucifer fumbles for the light switch, eventually just giving up when all his fingers find are wall and door frame. Instead, he clicks his fingers, the lights coming on instantly and filling the space in a warm glow.

Lucifer has been in your room before but never alone and never without your permission to be there. He feels like he’s trespassing. Like at any second alarm bells are going to start going off and metal bars will spring up to cover the windows and door, trapping him inside until you finally come back and find him huddled in a corner. He knows that’s not going to happen but that doesn’t stop him from feeling like he’s doing something wrong by being here without you or your permission. Deciding that he had already messed up by coming in here Lucifer quickly marches across the room and places the blanket down on the end of your bed, a quick wave of his hand summoning a white and red rose that smells like candy apples that he gently placed on top of the folded fabric.

He's back out the door within minutes, lights off once more and hiding what he had done. He feel’s giddy and nervous as he makes his way back to his rooms, like a teenager leaving a love note in a crush’s locker. Lucifer is hopeful though, that somehow his offering will have you at his door before the night is over. Either to talk or to throw the blanket in his face, but still at his door none the less. All he needed was that chance. The chance to reach out and hold your hand and tell you he was sorry for the hurt he had caused. The chance to promise you that his heart was yours and offering to give it to you on a silver platter if that was what you needed to know his feelings were true. Whatever you needed from him Lucifer would give it to you willingly, would offer you the universe if it would offer him just a glimpse of your smile once more. Whatever it takes, Lucifer would show you where his love resided and hopefully start to build a future with you at his side. Together again and stronger for it.

So lost in his thoughts Lucifer did not see the violet eyes that watched him from withing the darkest shadows. As he disappeared around the corner the shadows shifted, taking form as they moved closer to the door he had come from. Pail lilac fingers curled around the handle, the door opening just enough for the shadow cloaked figure to slip through into the darkened room, the door closing silently behind it.

@viannasthings @loquacious-libra @misfitgirlwrites @nanamunath @cherry-cola-100 @a-okay-rj

[akutasoda]

Hey! I've never requested anything like this before but I saw that your requests were open and I thought I'd give it a go. I've been really sick for the past two weeks and I've had this terrible insomnia and I've just felt really kinda alone and abandoned lately. Can you write a soft Alhaitham x reader thing where he tucks reader into bed and cuddles and holds them and reassures that they're loved and safe and wanted? It would be really nice if you could also have reader relax into little space and be referred to as a guy, but if you aren't comfortable writing that then don't worry about it.

But yes so soft Alhaitham comforting needy and hurt reader please and thank you

his way of comfort

synopsis - he's noticed you're not quite yourself lately, so he tries to help

includes - alhaitham

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight angst, maybe ooc, wc - 705

a/n: this was actually req by @c1evererer, i hope you get better soon! no matter how alone you may feel, there will always be someone there for you!! please take care of yourself!

if alhaitham was anything, it'd be observant. he could have a keen eye on anything around and still pay attention to what he was doing, although sometimes he did choose to block out his surroundings with the trusty help of noise cancelling. although, alhaitham wasn't exactly a people's person. he couldn't care less about others around him, those that he associated with were barely excluded even though he'd still deny it.

however, no matter what, he would care about you. he never imagined caring about someone the way he did for you, but sometimes love made you do crazy things. alhaitham would willingly keep an eye on you at any time and even more so when he started noticing your mood shift into something sour. admittedly, he wouldn't intervene for a while as you may have simply had a bad day. but he couldn't ignore it after you seemed to get worse by the day.

your usual demeanour seemed to disappear by the day, in its place was a kind of sadness that seemed to make you slightly distant. alhaitham wouldn't pry, he knew it probably wasn't his place to, but he couldn't stand seeing you in such a state for any longer. he wasn't the best, or even knew where to start, when it came to comforting people but he wanted to try. something was plaguing your mind and he wouldn't sit there and do nothing.

he soon found you swiftly after returning home, immediately he asked if you had anything left to do for the day and at one shake of your head, he urged you to come with him. you weren't going to reject his offer, even if you would, you simply didn't have the energy.

you followed behind closely as he brought you to your shared bedroom. you let him lead you into bed and indulged in the way that he tucked you in, doing whatever would make you comfiest, uncaring for his own later - it didn't matter what he wanted, if it would help you feel better he'd do it. it felt nice. your usually stoic lover being so caring.

it wasn't too long after before alhaitham himself laid down beside you and brought your figure, covered in blankets, into his embrace. one hand found its way to yours as he laced his fingers with yours while the other reached to cradle the back of your head as he gently rested his on top of yours.

you two laid in a comfortable silence for a while before he broke it. “if you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to” he paused slightly in hesitation before adding “as long as you know that i'm always here for you, whenever and for whatever”

another beat of silence. he pulled away slightly to look at you, “right now, i just want you to know that you're here, you're safe and loved” you could see his features softening ever so slightly.

“i don't know what i’d do without you sometimes, how dull my life would be without you, i never imagined it but now that i have you, i wouldn't have it any other way” he leaned in again, pressing a small kiss to your forehead, and letting you rest. eventually, you both drifted off in each other's embrace listening to his words of affirmation - alhaitham would claim it was the worst sleep he's ever had, but you would say the opposite and that's all he cared about.

alhaitham wasn't a people's person. he wasn't the best at comforting someone, but when it came down to you, he would try his damn hardest.

(for the following weeks, alhaitham became incredibly doing. ensuring that you returned to your normal self that he fell so hopelessly in love with)

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[deathbxnny]

Kafka, Blade, & Silver wolf with a stellan hunter teen!reader that’s like Frill from Wonder Egg Priority. Maybe how they would approach an artificial child that just once to be human and their jealousy towards others that take attention from them.

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

I've admittedly never watched Wonder Egg priority, but I've seen some small clips of the character mentioned in the ask, so I hope this turns out okay. Thank you for the interesting request, Anon!!<33

Content: Reader is not a human, angst, jealousy issues, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!!

((Not proofread))

》SILVER WOLF

Silver Wolf doesn't really pay attention to you all that much at first. Mainly because her interest lies in you as an artificial being, rather than a human one. And since you clearly don't want to be seen as anything else but human, she leaves you be. Eventually, after being paired up with you on missions, she starts observing you closer and decides that you're perhaps alot more interesting than she originally thought.

You want to be the focus of everyone's attention, and your jealousy makes you act out rather often. This makes the Stellaron hunter just keep you closer and treat you as a younger sibling of some sort. If you want to feel more human and get along with them better, she supposed she'll have to teach you how, even if she's not an expert at it.

She plays alot of video games with you and includes you in all of her hacking missions, even going as far as teaching you how to do it yourself. Silver Wolf subconsciously treats you like a human teen one way or another, and despite not knowing it, she really helps you out with your jealousy issues through her nonchalant kindness.

》BLADE

Blade doesn't care about what you are or are supposed to be. In fact, he'd rather not be dealing with any kid your age, whether human or not. Your jealousy issues and clear need for constant attention make his disinterest even worse... until he eventually is forced to take you with him on missions. He doesn't speak much to you and just goes along with your faux cheerful persona instead, mainly to spare himself the headache.

He learns over time that you aren't as awful as he thought of you to be however. You wanted to be a human, a person of the same value as one that was birthed. And yet your unfortunate circumstances made it impossible. In a way, he was starting to pity you to some extent. He has learned the hard way that life was cruel and vicious, wishes and dreams shattering under it's wrath with ease.

Your wish was a simple one though. One filled with humane and childish wonder that made him decide that he'll protect it for all it's worth. Sure, it may be ultimately foolish in his eyes. But perhaps your tragic fate had made him soft.

》KAFKA

Kafka feels bad for you. She really does. Which is why she pays attention to you the most out of everyone. Sure, she knows that your wish to become human is probably unattainable physically, but that doesn't mean that you still couldn't learn how to act like one with a little guidance from her.

She becomes somewhat of a mentor to you quite fast, as she takes care and protects you. She knows that your jealousy issues stem from your internalized self hate for your own cursed existence, and that just makes her just pity you more. Despite only being essentially a program stuck in a humanoid body, you act like a child your age, something she praises you often for.

She hopes that taking on a more motherly role in your life will eventually help you come at peace with yourself. You also make her often contemplate the meaning of being human, as some could be even classified as monsters. Was she one of them? Perhaps... but in her opinion, you were the most human one out of them all.