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plush-rabbit · 1 month

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A/N: I can't come up with a title so,,,, yeah!! Anyways, I've had this saved in my drafts and I miss writing and even with spring break!! my professor still gives us homework. So, here I am. this is just a thing where like reader is an angel and falls and like it was gonna be a short series, but like,,, i never finish my series (except for ciays)

Word Count: 3.1K

You sit with a pit in your stomach. Your legs are causing the items on the table to shake, and you can't stop the dread that is looming over you, cold and heavy. There's a shift beside you, and a hand cups over your thigh, a feeble attempt to get you to stop moving. You can only flinch in response.

“Can you just- I don’t know, fucking chill or something?” His hand gives you a squeeze, before pulling back and crossing his arms. “They aren’t gonna do shit to you.”

“Lucifer fell because he asked too many questions,” you counter, gasping for breath. The room feels too tight, too full and empty all at once.

Beside you, he scoffs. “Love to break it to ya babe, but you aren’t him. You’ll be fine.”

“Exactly,” you hiss, hiding your face in your hands. “I’m not him. I’m- I’m a low ranking Angel. I- Oh Father, I don’t hold any type of status. I’m going to fall,” you voice breaks and tears are in your eyes, horror and fear making you pale.

“You’re not.” He’s harsher this time, and pulls you to look at him. His name is on your tongue, and he interrupts you. “I’m vouching for you. And so are the rest of my girls. You’ll be fine.” He loosens his grip on you, and smooths a hand down your hair. “Chillax, babe. I know you’re a little goody-two-shoes, but this is nothing. You’ll probably just get demoted or some shit.”

“Adam.” Your hands grasps onto his, and you want to believe that he’s right. “But what if-”

The door opens, and you both whip your head around, watching as Seraphim walks in, her head held high and face lack of expression. The pit in your stomach swallows more of you.

Your rise from your seat, and Adam begrudgingly follows. “Sera-” you clear your throat- “I uh- Seraphim. Good evening. I- I thought we were not allowed to meet before the trial,” you look around the room, and for a moment, you have hope. She wouldn’t go against orders, so perhaps she’s here with good news. You give her a tense smile, and she walks to the desk, her wings taut and folded behind her.

She sits at the chair with her arms folded over the desk. “I wanted to be the one to deliver the verdict.”

Your brows furrow, and sit back down, your ankles crossed over one another, and your body leaning towards Adam’s. His hands reach over the space between the chairs and you grasp onto him, nails digging into the clothed covered skin.

“The verdict?” You ask in a whisper. “But I hadn’t- What about my trial?”

“It was decided that you would not have a trial.” Her voice is like stone, unwavering, strong, and heavy.

“Decided by who?” A chill runs down your spine, and it’s as if you can feel a presence around you.

“If there’s no trial then how do fuck do you all even have a verdict?” Adam, as always, is crude, and it only furthers the sickness deep in you.

“Adam,” you say in a high pitched voice.

He turns to you, and squeezes your hands. “Well? What is it? Community service? A demotion in rank? Paperwork?”

“Sera,” your chest is tight, your bones pricing into the tender flesh, “why didn’t I have a trial?”

“Look, the demotion can’t be that bad, right? I’ll look after them. Make them my assistant or something. I got shitload to do anyways, they’ll keep me on it.”

“Sera,” you plead, “I was promised a trial. I was told that it would be fair.”

“No trial is good, right? Means it was easy to consider your fate.” You flinch. “You get to be my assistant. Don’t worry babe-” he tugs on your hands for your attention, but you’re fixated on Seraphim and that way that they look at you with somber eyes- “I won’t work you too hard.” The playful tinged words make you sick.

“Sera,” you croak, leaning away from Adam- “my trial. It was promised.”

She calls your name, it’s whispered like a prayer, uttered like a curse and laced in sorrow. You know your outcome, before she can even say it. “I’m terribly sorry.” Your body goes cold. “It has been decided that your punishment for questioning the beliefs and practices of Heaven will be the taking of your wings and The Fall to Hell.”

You can taste the bile. It burns, the acid fills your mouth, and it makes your eyes burn with hot tears.

“What the fuck!” Adam shouts, your hands are let go, and you stare into her eyes. You can hear the chair squeak as it’s pushed away and it nearly topples over. Adam goes to you, short strides to grasp his hands over your shoulders. “That isn’t fucking fair! They were promised a trial, so where the fuck is it?” He’s furious, and the hands around you bring you no comfort.

“I’m terribly sorry.” Seraphim looks at you as she speaks. “For the both of you.” Her eyes dart between you and Adam.

“I didn't mean to,” you whisper, your nails digging into your clothes. “I promise that I-”

“Come on Sera! I've done worse shit than them. Can't we just look the other way?”

“Adam, I need to speak to them alone.”

“Like fuck I’ll-”

“Adam,” you breathe out. He looks at you, moving to kneel in front of you and you look at the demonic mask, and you want to retch. “Let us speak in private, please. I’ll meet you outside.”

He looks at you, through the golden eyes of the mask. “Fine,” he huffs. He stands, and presses a kiss to the top of your temple. You wish that you could return the gesture- that you could look up and kiss him back without worry. “Yell if you need me,” he whispers to you. You nod, unable to mutter a word to him.

The door clicks behind him, and you’re left alone with Seraphim- something that you’ve never had the opportunity to experience. Perhaps if circumstances were different, you’d be more ecstatic.

They call your name, and she holds her hands out to you. Like a trained dog, you place your hands in hers, and you let the tears fall.

“Why am I falling?” You ask, gaining no comfort from her hands.

“Emily- one of the younger Seraphim- has begun to question certain aspects of Heaven. I fear that the questions won't settle.”

“So this is- I’m meant to scare her? To remind her of her place?”

Seraphim sighs, and she lifts a hand, tracing a delicate finger along the back of your hand. You hate the ways he says your name- like she still cares for you. Like your name is sweet as honey. As if she has the right to speak to you with care and love. “You must understand that Emily is still so young.”

“And a higher ranking than I am.” You turn away from her, but you can’t pry your hands away. You want comfort, even if it's given by your judge and even if the hands that hold yours are going to be stained in gold. They say nothing to your comment, and you hold their hand tighter. “When?” You croak out.You dig your nails into their skin- it’s cold, and as much as you want to hurt them, you cannot.

“By the end of the week.” Their words are spoken without wavering. “You’ll be confined in one of our holding rooms for incoming souls for the time being. You’ll still be allowed visitors. The spectacle will be watched by only those that you allow, and by the high-ranking angels.” You let out a sob, and bow your head. “It will be quick. With the ranking unbeknownst to the rest, it will be an Exterminator who will remove your wings. They’ll be wearing one of the ceremonial robes. After the removal of your wings, you’ll be-” she pauses and you can already feel the emptiness.

“I’ll be cast out.” You look up and she nods, her hands squeezing yours.

“Understand that if I could will it any other way, I would.”

You look at the hands holding onto yours, and you think about how someone will have to clean your blood. How they’ll get on their knees and wipe the ichor from the floor, how the rags will drip in riches and stain their hands in sin. Your wings flitter in response.

“You said an Exterminator?”

“Lute has been tasked with your severance.”

“Why not Adam?”

Seraphim looks shocked. “I- I would not wish for him to be the one to remove your wings. If it were any other, I believe he would do an excellent job, but since it’s you,” she trails off. “I do not believe he would be able to commit.”

“But Lute can,” you say.

“Yes. She is able to put her feelings aside, and do her job.” Seraphim pauses, their eyes are trained on you, and a few look at you in pity. “However, if you wish for it to be Adam-”

“No,” you interrupt. “No, you’re right. He wouldn’t be able to.” Your wings feel heavy. “Sera?” She hums in response. “How soon will I be cast out after my wings are removed?”

“Effective immediately.”

You lay in your new bed- the mattress new and solid underneath you. It’s nothing like the one back home. You can’t seem to get comfortable, all that you can do is lay there wrapped in Adam’s arms, pulled close to his body where your breath tickles at his skin. “You can run,” he says quietly into your ear. “I’ll leave the door unlocked, and you can run.” His act of defiance brings tears to your eyes.

“Adam,” your voice breaks.

“The Exterminators will be the ones tasked with chasing you down.” You feel the way his hands grip your skin, clawing and desperate to keep you beside him. “They won’t get you. They’re loyal to me. They’ll listen. You can live on Earth.”

When you close your eyes, tears trace down the curve of your face. “Lute is the one performing the severance of my wings,” you tell him a hoarse whisper, unable to keep the horror out of it. Even speaking about it is enough to send a pain down your spine and at the base of your wings. His nails pierce into your skin, pinching into the softness of your stomach. His wings flutter, and they are heavy above your body. “She’ll do a good job,” you comfort. “A clean cut that will make it easy to heal.” There’s bile burning in your throat. “Please don’t be upset with her after the event.” His arms wrap tighter around you, and his wings hide you from the outside, curving over your body, cupping you and holding you. Your hands hold onto him, at the nape of his neck, trying not to look at him, but commit his touch to memory. “I don’t think you should be there.”

“Like fuck I won’t,” he seethes, the venom in his words are unable to hide the tremor.

“Adam,” you murmur, “I’m serious. I- You shouldn’t see me like that. I- I know that I would look for you after it happened. I- I can’t ask for you to see me so broken.”

“I’m going,” he tells you in a tight voice, his breaths coming out in gasps.

You nod, and swallow the pit lodged in your throat. “Please don’t stop it.” He whispers your name, and lets you go, coming up to a sitting position. His wings still stretched, touching you so gently. You look up at him, tear stains glistening on your cheeks. “This is my fault. I’ve accepted it. I know I’m going to plead and cry for mercy, but ignore me, Adam.” Your hands find his, and you hold onto him desperately. “Don’t fight for me. Let it happen.”

“You should run away,” he tells you again. “We can run together.” Tears glisten in his eyes, and you don’t recall ever seeing him so upset.

You smile, but it trembles and falls, and tears spill out. “Where would we go?” You ask in a quiet voice.

“Earth.” His jaw tightens, and you don’t comment when his voice cracks. “We’d take a bunch of gems from here and sell them there. We’d be rich.” You try not to let the quaking in your chest show, the soft stuttering that threatens to release a storm. “We’d sing in some dingy ass club, and I’d use my blessing to make us famous.”

You laugh, and it’s clouded by tears. “I thought we were in hiding?”

“We’d be in disguise,” he counters, a hand prying away from your grip to wipe away the tears. “We’d settle after a few years, get a nice house in a big city. Gamble, drink, fuck. Maybe have a few kids in like a hundred years.” He smiles when you turn your head to kiss his palm, your other hand going to curve over his. “We’d have a nice life.” He lays over you, hiding his face into the crook of your neck, and presses his lips to the warmth of your skin when your hands tangle themselves into his hair. “It’s a nice plan, right?”

“Of course,” you say through tears. “You always come up with good plans.”

You stand in a stadium, dressed in white, your back exposed and your wings fluttering about no matter how much you will them to still. No one fears that you are going to run. Not when there are archers lined, and not when the Angels are watching you. You see Adam, and he wears his mask, standing with his arms held behind him.

You wish you told Seraphim that he wasn’t allowed.

Chains bind your ankles and wrists. The iron pinching your skin and irritating the flesh. You’d take this pain a thousand times over than what’s about to happen.

“For questioning Heaven’s beliefs and practices,” the voice echoes around, “we sentence you,” your name sounds empty, and you can’t breathe, “to have your wings removed and to be banished from Heaven.” You do a stupid thing and glance at Adam and he looks away at your glance. You feel a tinge of pain, but it’s better this way. “You will now have your wings removed.”

You turn your head, and see Lute. She’s shrouded in white robes with gold accents. Her hair is tied, and her wings are pinned behind her. She does not cast you on any type of look and you're grateful for that.

Her gaze is steeled. You know her. She knows you. She’s seen you at your worst, and you’ve seen her at her best. You’ve shared meals with her- broken bread and drank wine together. She’s been in your home. Her smile has always been sharp, and there are moments where it’s tender, vulnerable and saved for those closest to her.

She does not smile at you. She keeps her gaze focused on you, and you can’t help but tremble, the iron of the chains clinking together. You look away, and you’re grateful you had nothing to eat the morning of. You were grateful you were not given the choice of a last meal.

“On your knees,” Lute tells you in a strained voice.

You hope Adam won’t be mad at her. You hope that if he is, that she can take it.

You flinch at the chill touch of the sword. Your wings flutter, and you bite your tongue. You should make your case once more. You shouldn’t be here. You only asked a simple question. This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be here. There’s a point against your back. You look up and find Adam. You need him to save you. You can run away with him. You’ll live the life he wanted. You’d do anything. You’d be his. You yelp as something sharp cuts into you. You’d never disobey Heaven again. You’ll never ask again. You’ll be content. Please, Father, you’ll be good.

“Stay still,” she says, breathing out the last word in a plea, and when you cannot, she’s forced to continue.

The tearing is a sharp pain. One that makes you writhe and scream, your throat raw and the sounds unbearably loud. Every twist and turn only further aggravates the wound, skin pulling and muscles bare for the Angels to see. Warmth runs down your back, caressing the small part of your back and spilling onto your legs and thighs. Your hands slam into the ground, clawing at the porcelain floor. Through tears, you can liquid gold, shining and shimmering.

The cool air is agony against your open wounds. You’re warm, and wet, and the final strip of skin is pulled away from you. The heaviness of your wings are gone from you, and crane your neck to see them land with a heavy ‘thud’ away from you. The base of the ivory feathers are drenched in gold, and you can only think about the misery you’re in, and you reach for them. You need them back, you want them back. You’d sew them onto yourself if you could, but you can’t leave them here.

Your eyes glance around, wide and horrified, searching the crowd, and you roll onto your back, screaming once more, and calling for Father, your eyes landing on Adam. Legs block your view, and heavy hands lift you, pulling on your arm, and stretching the raw muscle.

You can hear someone, but your own screams overpower the other, and for a moment, you’re in the air, lifted and unable to breathe, until gravity pulls you down.

It’s a searing pain. It burns your skin and the whips of air slash against your back and body. You’re beaten and battered, carried by the air of Hell, and your screams only echo around you. The ground is unforgiving, a crater forming around you as you land. Gravel and sticks push against your skin. Your body lays crumpled on the floor, limbs twisted around each other, and your body is a mix of gold and dirt.

Weeds twist into your hair, and the stench of Hell makes you retch. You cry on the ground, alone and numb. There is no Father here; there is no warmth for you here. In a shay breath, with your hands clawing at the dirt, you wish for death. You wish for the demons to pry you apart and for your body to never recover.

And far away, tucked away in his castle, eyes looking up at the heavens, Lucifer sees a shooting star streak across the sky, and his heart drops.

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vinnellamadz · 2 months

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Random Adam Headcanons

Some of these are dating headcanons some of them are just stupid LMAO, my bff helped me with these

once you and Adam get together you start to wonder how in the world he was still alive.

Adams the type of guy to not be able to use a washing machine by himself,

'Is this enough detergent babe?' It's half the entire bottle like save him from himself

If you’re a vegetarian he definitely mixes it up with vegan,

“What the fuck babe, you know you’re a vegetable! You can’t eat cheese!”

Adam can’t handle spice, he calls ketchup spicy.

Adam has a phone he just never uses it unless it’s to look at stupid memes (YouTube shorts) otherwise he doesn’t know how to use one.

Every time he finds something funny (which is almost all the time) he shoves his phone in your face hoping you’d find it funny too.

Adams the type of guy who has to use a calculator to find out what 10 times 0 is.

He’d probably eat food that supposed to be eaten with a fork with his hands,

Like spaghetti

Sometimes he’ll seem desperate to ask you something, acting as though it was urgent before asking you “what’s for dinner”

Honestly I can see him whipping out the theatrics to ask that, 🙄 full on spotlight and on his knees.

He has night terrors but we’re not going to talk about that.

He goes INSANE when another man approaches you, but this barely happens because Adam is glued to you almost 24/7.

During movie nights he either talks throughout the entire movie or falls asleep 10 minutes in there’s no other alternative.

Unless it’s frozen his eyes are glued to the tv.

@lunasong84 helped me with most of these,I could not have done this without her🥺

#adam x reader #adam x reader hazbin #hazbin #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #helluva boss #hazbin adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel #Adam x reader hazbin hotel #x reader #Adam HH #hazbin hotel Adam x reader #hazbin lucifer

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deniseseine · 2 months

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Everywhere I go I keep her picture in my wallet

Part 1 in which Hazbin hotel characters has your picture in their wallets

Adam🍎

This menacing man

He's the first man ever so of course he'd brag to everyone how his girlfriend is so pretty

Will literally slap it in Lute's face for hours and tell Lute how much he loves you

Please save Lute from Adam 🙌

Adam adores you and always holds the picture when he's at work

"This picture?! Ugh how can you not know my future wife, Mikey?"

He literally straight out flex to Michael about how your love and his love is endless

Lute has to suffer the most in listening to Adam for a whole three solid hours

Lucifer🦆

He tells almost everyone

He even made Alastor broadcast the whole hell that the picture in his wallet is you

Charlie thinks it's cute

Vaggie on the other hand is a step close to falling asleep because of how Lucifer is talking about you the whole time

"Oh my future Mrs. Morningstar is in my wallet! I misssssss herrrrr!"

Lucifer is just so silly yet so cute

He tells his ducks about you

Vox📺

He will brag about it, loudly and simply, depends on the situation

He has a picture of you with a kissy face and him with a kissy face so if he closed his wallet you two are kissing

This flat face prince is certainly sweet

Vox literally straight out pretends to drop his wallet in front of the vees

"Oops! I guess I accidentally dropped my wallet, how embarrassing"

Vox shouted as the two other vees are just literally on their phones

He was pissy when the two ignored him as he caused a whole black out yet again

Thank you for reading!

#hazbin hotel #hh #vivziepop #hazbin hotel vox #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #adam hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #vox x reader #adam x reader #Spotify

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teardrop-scales · 18 days

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For once a number one

(Adam x female!reader)

A.N: this is purely self indulgent, but I decided to publish this anyway. Hurt-comfort I guess and general fluff, although this is Adam we're talking about, so of course there are swear words and some suggestive stuff.

Please note that english is not my first language, so there might be some mistakes. Also, my Adam is probably ooc.

(Also I suck at beginnings, endings and titles, sorry ><)

You don't even hear him come in.

No wonder, since you are currently blasting his band's music on full volume. Mostly 'Stick it to the man' to be honest; until now it always helped you cheer up and relax a little if you were angry at something or someone. But this time even this wasn't helping. Still you refuse to turn it off because you love your boyfriend's voice and his music (even though you won't ever tell him that, his ego is big enough as it is).

So here you are, laying on the couch with 'Stick it to the Man' blasting in the background, still in your more formal and nicer clothes, not even having the strength to change into more comfy ones, only forcing yourself to take off your boots once you got inside.

Pathetic much.

And so, that's why you almost have a heart attack when the loud music suddenly stops and you hear the voice of your boyfriend, this time talking and standing a few meters away from the couch.

"Heyyy, I see your music taste is still intact, babes! Though if you wanted to hear my singing, you could've just asked me for a private concert. For a price, 'course~."

You don't bother to look up at him, but you can imagine the smug grin on his face and the wiggling of his eyebrows.

To be honest, you thought you had more time until Adam comes home. You didn't want him to see you like this. He never was very good at this 'mushy, sappy emotional shit' (his words). And you really don't have the strength now to deal with his mocking and teasing.

So you just groan in response.

Even though Adam isn't usually really good at reading people and their emotions, your state makes it clear even for him that something is wrong.

"Geez, the fuck is up your ass?" He hisses, walking towards the couch and putting a cold palm on your forehead to check for fever. "You sick or somethin'?"

You, albeit a bit reluctantly, swat his hand away.

"I'm not sick. I have some other problems, you wouldn't understand." You respond, still laying on the couch, pathways made from tears still visible and fresh on your cheeks.

Adam scoffs and puts his hands on his hips.

"Try me, bitch."

You finally look him in the eyes, skeptically.

"Are you really gonna listen to me yap about this? Without cutting me off and mocking me?" Somehow you want him to both go away and stay right beside you.

"You always listen to me when I'm fucking mad at something and need to talk it out." He shrugs. "The least I can do is return the favor for once, since I'm so generous and in a good mood today. Now move your ass."

Adam makes the 'shoo' gesture with his hand, and you move a bit to the side on the couch, making space for him to sit down. Once he plops down on the couch, you put your head in his lap.

"Where to even start." You say in a bit of a sarcastic manner, your voice breaking just a bit once again.

You tell him everything, somehow managing to not break down again during the tale. You tell him how your friend got bored of you when another, seemingly more interesting and fun person than you appeared. How when the tree of you hang out, they paid more attention to the new person, only rarely talking to you and when they did, they were a lot colder towards you. It wasn't fucking fair. You were there longer and you always tried your best to be a good friend, the best you could be. And it still wasn't enough.

Surprisingly, Adam kept his promise and didn't cut you off even once. Instead, he was on his phone the whole time, but with his other hand he played with your hair. He only let out some hums of acknowledgement every now and then, not looking at you at all. It may have seemed like he was disinterested in your problem, but the way his fist clenched around the strands of your hair during certain parts of your story suggested otherwise.

"...and that's the situation." You sigh heavily finishing your rant after a while.

Adam scoffs and puts his phone down.

"Well, what do you want me to say, bitch?" He shrugs. "I mean, yeah, sure sucks to be you I guess, but why the fuck are ya getting so worked up over this?"

"Well, that's because--"

"Honestly, thought you were tougher than that. Thought you were a badass, not a pathetic little cunt--"

"Adam, you promised you wouldn't cut me off." You remind him coldly, lifting your head from his lap and glaring at him.

Adam rolls his eyes.

"Fine, fine, jeez." He tsks. "Sorry, babe."

You stay quiet for a few seconds, searching for the right words. This is tricky, your boyfriend is not the best at dealing with emotions like this. He can't relate because he has a totally different strategy when someone doesn't like him. Heck, most of Heaven doesn't like him, he just doesn't seem to care. He always makes it seem so easy. You envy him in that aspect, you envy his ability to not give a fuck.

"You know what?" You finally say, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "I wouldn't care if this was a first situation like this. I wouldn't give a damn. But the truth is, this happens to me every single motherfucking time I manage to form a meaningful relationship with someone." Despite your best efforts, frustration tears appear in your eyes. "I'm tired of this. Tired of being thrown aside once everyone gets bored of me, tired of always being second-best, of being the spare friend and 'number two'. "

You shake your head and then say quietly:

"I bet sooner or later you're gonna get bored of me and leave too."

Silence falls. You don't dare to look Adam in the eyes as you sit beside him on the couch, but at a slight distance.

You're not looking at him, so you fail to notice the flabbergasted and almost offended look on his face.

"The FUCK!?" Adam suddenly breaks the silence with his angry shout as you look at him confused. "I'm not fucking going anywhere! You're stuck with me babes, whether you like it or not. Also, geez, I know I'm a major jerk but I'm not like those trash you call friends!"

You finally dare to look at him, amazed. He really seems put off by your suggestion. You feel your heart flutter at his words and his statement that he isn't gonna leave no matter what. Despite his many flaws, Adam always has been very loyal and dedicated to you. You feel ashamed that you doubted him. Before you can apologize however, he continues his rant:

"And anyway, fuck them--"

You raise an eyebrow in amusement at his wording. Adam sees your expression and scowls before smirking.

"Look who's dirty minded now, bitch~" He teases you, earning a light slap on the shoulder.

Adam chuckles and you roll your eyes, but with a small smile dancing on your lips.

"Whatever." You say, wanting him to continue.

"I meant like, stop giving a fuck about those fake-ass people, y'know! You fucking rock babe, and if they can't see that, it's their loss. Don't waste your precious time on those who don't deserve it."

Your smile kept growing the longer he kept talking. Of course, his rant didn't magically solve your problem, you were still mad and sad, but less now. Because now you are sure that Adam will always be on your side.

"...you should focus on people who really deserve your time. Like me." Adam finishes with a smug grin as you slap his arm lightly, both of you chuckling.

Then you climb in his lap and hug him by the neck, minding the spikes on his collar, but still pressing your face in the crook between his neck and shoulder. Adam smells of his usual cologne and you can sense a faint scent of ribs, which he must've had for lunch.

"Thank you, honey." You say softly. "I think I needed to hear that."

You can feel the First Man shiver slightly at the sweet nickname. You know that that's his weakness, even though he always tries to act like he doesn't like it.

You wait for him to tease you or try to make this moment sexual like he usually does. You expect Adam to go back to his usual annoying self. But instead, he sighs through his nose and slowly wraps his arms around your back and waist, hugging you tightly and pressing you even more into his soft chest and stomach. He even wraps his beautiful golden wings around you for extra comfort.

"Anytime, sweetie." Adam says softly while caressing your back gently.

Something swells in your chest at the nickname he almost never uses. The only times Adam uses this particular one is when he's mocking you or someone or when he's feeling especially soft and at ease. Even though you two have been dating for quite some time now, you only recall one or two instances of him using "sweetie" as a nickname for you in a soft manner, not counting now of course.

You smile into his neck and raise your head slightly to press a kiss to his cheek.

You both stay silent for a while, just enjoying each other's presence and touch.

"You know" Adam says suddenly, still embracing you. "If you need friends or some shit, I can set up a meeting for you with my girls and Lute. They've been up my ass recently about wanting to 'get to know you' ".

"That's actually not a bad idea." You reply, pressing your cheek against his.

"Yeah, it's a win-win situation, babe." Adam muses, squeezing you momentarily. "You get new friends, and I get some fucking peace from their pestering."

You giggle.

You were scared to talk to him about your problems, knowing how he is. But now you realize that was stupid. Adam is a jerk to everyone but you. He's always been more patient, gentle and soft with you than with anyone else. You feel really ashamed for thinking he wouldn't listen to you and support you in your problems, even if they are trivial to him.

"I'm sorry for not believing that you'd listen to me and my problems." You sigh. "And I'm sorry for saying that you'd leave me and comparing you to my ex-friends."

"Yeah, you should be fucking sorry." Adam grumbles, grabbing you to lean you away from him a bit and then embracing your face with his palms. "You're one of the best things to ever happen to me, truly babe. I love you, you're my bitch and I wouldn't trade you for anyone."

You smile brightly, placing your smaller hands on his bigger ones on your cheeks. Then Adam continues before you can say anything, like he usually does.

"And if I ever hear you doubting yourself like that again, I'll literally fuck these thoughts out of you. I'll fuck you until you start to see yourself as a motherfucking goddess." He threatens with a grin.

You laugh. This time not a giggle or chuckle, but a big, bubbly laugh. You don't fail to notice the soft, fleeting smile which appears on your boyfriend's face at the sound of you laughing, but don't comment on it.

"Don't threaten me with a good time, darling." You tease after you calm down, putting your hands on his cheeks and squeezing them a bit. "I love you too."

Then you lean towards him and carefully place your lips on his in a gentle kiss. And for once, Adam doesn't make the kiss more heated, instead kissing you back just as softly.

For once, you feel completely and utterly loved and appreciated. For once you're someone's number one.

#hh #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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nahokura · 2 months

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I'm literally dying because I'm sick but it gives me smut ideas, because our body is more sensitive when we're sick 🤔

Maybe headcanons with multiple characters?

Or just a one-shot with only one character?? (Probably Lucifer)

Update:

#smut #hazbin hotel #x reader #thoughts #sick #hazbin #hotel #hh #lucifer x reader #vaggie x reader #alastor x reader #vox x reader #adam x reader #valentino x reader #velvette x reader

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selfshipfiend · 2 months

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Hello bestie, and welcome !! I'm really into Adam these days, so if it's not a problem for you, could you write a scenario of/his reaction to ending up in Hell after his death in Ep . 8 & Reader being the only one who's trying to help him? Thank you ^o^

Of course!

Adam, of course, being Adam would be in total denial at first. Obviously, him being down here is a mistake. There's no way he would be down here with the scum of the earth.

After a while, however, he starts to realize that he did fall and is now a sinner. Once he realizes this he would become angry, what the fuck did he do to deserve being down here? He would probably end up taking out his anger by starting a fight with a random demon, or maybe even one he recognizes.

However, Adams' massive ego might have blinded him from the fact that he isn't as powerful as he used to be now that he is a sinner. He is losing the fight, and just when he thinks it's over, you would come along and defend him. Whether this is through fighting the other demon or reasoning with them is up to you.

Adam might be angry or frustrated at first but wouldn't be able to vocalize it due to the beating he just earned. After a while, he would figure it's best not to protest. If you want to risk your life to help him, who is is he to tell you, no?

#hazbin hotel #hh #selfship #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #x reader

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strawb3rrystar · 2 months

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I got very sad with "Hazbin Hotel characters longing for you."

(┬┬﹏┬┬)

so you could do their reaction to I love you or us wanting to get back to them.

\(￣︶￣*\))

Hazbin Hotel characters reaction to 'I love you'.

Pairing: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Adam, Vox, Valentino, Velvette x GN! Reader

Warnings: None!

Word count: 482

✰Masterlist

Charlie's face immediately lights up when you say it for the first time. She'll give a little squeal as she embraces you, squeezing the afterlife out of you.

"I love you too, my little fire bug!"

Vaggie takes a second to process what you just said. But afterward, she'll get all flustered that you said that. If you ask her what's wrong, she'll just shake her head and respond with.

"Nothing.. it's just.. I love you too."

Angel Dust thinks you're joking at first, because he finds it to be unbelievable that someone could actually love him. But once he realizes you're telling the truth he'll question why someone like you loves someone like him.

"Me? Are you sure? Well, of course I love you too, it's just.. ah- nevermind."

Husk will freeze and probably drop the glass that he's cleaning. Something in his brain just short circuits when you say it. If you hug him, or touch him at all afterwards, he will purr, but will also 100% deny that he is.

"Purring? No, you're just hearing things.."

Sir Pentious will have an internal freak out, but will also get extremely giddy. Like he'll flap his hands while trying not to slither out of the room.

"Yes.. yes. Me too! I mean.. uh- I love.. you too..?"

Alastor will think you're talking to someone else and will probably ignore you. He simply can't wrap his head around the idea of someone having romantic feelings for him. If you say it a second time, thinking he didn't hear you, he'll respond with.

"No, my dear, I heard you perfectly well the first time. I must apologize for having no interest in this conversation."

Lucifer will be extremely flattered that you love him. Of course, he still loves Lilith very dearly. But, he's also just a lonely, single, dad who deserves to be loved as well.

"Of course I love you too! Never doubt that fact for a second."

Adam is always very flirty, so he isn't surprised that you love him. He will get really cocky about it though, so maybe knock some sense into him first.

"Ha! Of course you love me! I'm fucking Adam!"

Vox will probably actually short circuit or just get really flustered. Since he's never received a proper confession before, he doesn't know how to respond.

"Mhm. Yep!" *gives you a thumbs up and an awkward smile*

Valentino on the other hand, is very used to receiving love confessions. In fact, they are an ego boost for him. He'll probably kiss the back of your hand and reply with.

"I love you too, darling~"

Velvette will give you a smile and a kiss on the cheek, then will tell you that she reciprocates the feeling. She'll probably tweet about it afterwards, though.

"@Velvvette: my lovely partner just told me they love me today!! Love u 2 <3"

Star's notes -> My last HH headcanons got 1000 notes in three days. Yall are insane, thank you so much <33

(Thank you, sweet anon, for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @corruptcoder @astrolovedy @alexandria-fandom @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @idontreallyexistyet | Join the taglist

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vikkirosko · 2 months

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HI HII! I've seen you write for Adam from HH and I was wondering if it's okay to ask for both platonic and romantic HCs of him with a fem!sinner!reader who works at the Hazbin Hotel? How they met, how the hell did Adam finally end up being able to tolerate a sinner is up to you!

🎸 Adam x sinner fem!Reader headcanons Cutie among sinners ✨️

Adam descended into Hell only once a year, on the day of the extermination. He despised sinners. They were to blame for what they did when they were alive. However, during one of their exterminations, he found you. You were a sinner, one of the many who were in Hell, but something about you seemed sweet to him. You had a sweet face and overall, if you forget that you were a sinner, you were quite pretty. That was the only reason Adam spared you. He was in a good mood and pretended that he didn't notice you, even though it looked to you like he was just ignoring you. However, when the angels left Hell, you found a strange device that you decided to keep with you. You didn't even realize that Adam planted this thing

You didn't meet Adam again entirely of your own free will. You came to your hotel room to relax after a day full of work, but as soon as you closed the door and turned on the light, an unfamiliar voice rang out saying that he was already tired of waiting. It was Adam, or rather his hologram. You got scared and threw the first thing that came to your hand at him, which only made him laugh. You didn't understand how Adam ended up in your room, and he was in no hurry to say that you yourself brought a device that allowed him to communicate with you. But he was very surprised to see you wearing a uniform similar to the one worn by Princess of Hell

You were rarely in your room, but every time Adam wouldn't let you rest. He asked you questions, made fun of you and did not understand why you believed that you could atone for your sins, because you were already in Hell, you were already too late to worry about saving your soul. You seemed to believe in the idea of a princess. At some point, you got so used to Adam's constant company that you did your business in the room, answering some of his questions. Watching you, Adam became more and more convinced that he liked you. He forgot that you were a sinner and tried to touch you several times, but each time his hand went through yours, and at that moment he remembered that you were in Hell and he was in Heaven

When Charlie went to Heaven to negotiate, Adam was forced to listen to her words about the hotel again. He was able to see you among the other residents of the hotel. You were smiling, smiling sincerely at your friends. At that moment, Adam thought it would be great if you could atone for your sins and get to Heaven, where you could communicate normally. He really wanted to get to know you much better. He liked you, even though Adam didn't admit it even to himself

There was very little time left before the new extermination, and Adam understood that you would also fight against the angels. That's why he contacted you again. He told you to leave the hotel. He didn't want you to die, but he didn't say so directly. Adam didn't know if you were really going to leave, but he hoped you wouldn't die. That's all he could really hope for in your situation

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanons #Adam #Adam x Reader

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plush-rabbit · 1 month

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part two to the unnamed chapter from like a few days ago!! honestly, im suprised people liked it. like i didnt think it would get good stuff. like i dindt think it was bad, but im like the hype has died down anyways!! we meet the man, the myth, the devil himself!!

Word Count: 4.8K

You can hardly keep your eyes open. Even with the soft yellow glow of the light, it's far too bright for you. Shutting your eyes only brings you a bit of solace. You're somewhere soft, something light and feathery pulled over you, and you shift your shoulder blades to pull your wings closer to your body, and instead you sob, the pain sharp and unforgiving to your frail body.

Did you fall? No, maybe you slept on them wrong. You don’t have to think about stretching your wings, it was always second nature, as easy as blinking and as easy as moving your arm. You’d stretch your wings, and you’d ask Adam to help you preen your wings. You shift, and something feels empty, it feels light, lighter than air. You can’t remember your wings feeling so light, not unless you were flying. You’d hate to have messed up your wings over something as frivolous as falling.

Memories rush in, fragmented, only the beginning pieces clear enough for you to remember. Your eyes snap, and you’re met with harsh lighting. You see nothing but wood and stone, and a home that is not yours, and you groan into something soft under you. Moving your arm is painful, it feels bent and sore, and you reach for feathers, and find nothing. Your cries bury themselves into something plush, something that soaks your tears and drool and leaves only a patch behind. A hand pats softly against your arm, and you flinch.

A voice shushes out to calm you. “It's okay. You're safe. I'm not here to hurt you,” they whisper. “Just relax, and try not to move. You still haven't recovered.”

Even if they speak softly to you, it's far too loud. The words echo in your head, and attempting to think about where you are and who you're with is making you nauseous. Or perhaps it's the sickly honeyed scent that is thick in the air.

“‘S too sweet,” you slur, clawing at fabric beneath you. You regret speaking, the movement making your already sore jaw ache further, the joints pushing into your splitting skull. Your head pulses and your mouth is cotton filled, thick and impossible to speak. “Where?” You hope that someone will give you an answer to where you are. Or at least what you're on.

“Oh, thank you,” a voice chirps.

“Don't think it was a compliment Bee,” a thick accent says in a hushed voice.

“Well I'm taking it as one,” the voice huffs.

“You're at my home,” the gentle voice is back. “You're in a spare bed. Just try to relax.” You can’t relax with all the sound, and when you try to tell him that, you only murmur, slurring letters together. “I know, I know.” He doesn’t, but you can’t correct him. “Just try not to move so much.” It's quiet again, a silence that stretches and fills the void with nothingness. The smell and the shuffling of bodies is the only indication that you aren’t alone, that you haven’t been left yet.

“Luci, mate, you sure it's a good idea to have an angel laying around?” You hear the chime of bells, and you want everything to stop.

“They aren't an angel,” a voice retorts. A hand places itself over your bicep, and squeezes you softly.

“Yeah, but like, it’s still a bit dangerous, isn’t it?” The voice is much more feminine, and you can hear a buzz when they speak, a low hum that doesn’t stop. “Having one of them just on your bed.”

“A spare bed,” the voice corrects. The bed dips beside you, your fingers tap against the mattress. “It was dangerous when we were first here,” snapping at the other, before sighing. “It’s been a long time since another angel has fallen.”

“Lucifer, honey,” this voice is smoother than the others, and you wish they would all stop talking. “What’s the plan here?” Someone makes a noise of confusion. “They aren’t an angel anymore, if anything, they’re a walking target. We don’t even know if they’re an Exorcist.”

“Heaven hasn’t cast out an Angel in so long,” the voice says softly, a finger tracing shapes onto your arm. “And I highly doubt they’re an Exorcist. I can almost- I’m positive that they aren’t.”

An Exorcist. That’s what they think. Lute flashes in your mind, and Adam follows, weapons ready, and thinking hurts far too much. You groan, nuzzling into the pillow, trying to tune out the sounds. You need them to stop talking.

A hand pats at your arm, and soon you feel fingers tangle themselves into your hair. Fingertips ghost alongside the tender part of your scalp. The voice hushes you, lulling you back into a state of unconsciousness. “I’m sorry,” they whisper, “we must be too loud for you.”

“Lucifer, I know you’re still-” the person pauses- “upset-” they sound unsure of the word they’re using- “about the last few years, but you can’t take on a pity project.”

Lucifer. They keep saying- oh shit. You let out a whimper. You don’t know if you’re thankful for being found by him, or if it’s a curse to be found by him. He shushes you once more, massaging gently at your scalp.

“Yeah-” the buzzing is louder this time- “you know, if you were lonely, you could have just said something. I got some cute little hounds that need loving homes, ya know? And uh, they’re cute-” they hiss that word and you furrow your brows- “and practically housebroken.”

“Luci, it’s not like they’re worth much. I mean look at ‘em. I don’t even think I remember seein’ them back up when we were there, so they gotta be new or somethin’.”

The hands still, fingertips pressing into the tenderness of your head. You let out a low sound, and give a soft nudge of your head for the person- Lucifer you presume, to let go. He apologizes, soothing over the spot where he’s touched. “It’s not- They aren’t a pity project. This isn’t that. Don’t you remember how bad it was. How painful it was to fall. At least we had each other. We were stronger than most angels.” You wish they would all stop talking. Especially when they refer to falling, you can't stand to hear it. “They have no one. This is- I just want them to feel safe.” His words come to a slow stand, and if it didn’t hurt to cry, you’d sob at the reminder of your punishment. “Their wings were ripped from them, they weren’t even allowed to heal.”

“Well it ain’t like Heaven is known for their leniency.”

“Listen, Lucifer, we’re just saying that you’ve been having a lot of big emotions recently, and maybe nursing someone back to health isn’t what you need right now.” Lucifer- at least you’re assuming- makes a noise in protest at what the other voice is stating. “What’s the long-term plan, hm? You fix them and then what? Do they live here? Do you kick them out? Take them over to Charlie?”

The room is still, the buzzing has quieted down to a hum, and you feel sleep grasp onto you once more. “You should all go.” The group protests immediately, voices overlapping one another, the buzzing higher, and scent of sweets and leather grows and irritates you further. Your head pounds, banging against your skull. You shift, pulling at the wounds, and a cry muffles itself into your pillow. “It’s okay, you’re okay” the voice says in a hushed voice, palms pressed flat against you, cooling your feverish body. “I’ll give you something right now to help the pain.” He clears his throat away from you. “I have to think about things. I’ll make sure to give you updates as they come along, but for now, I’ve taken up enough of your time.” He pauses. “You should return back to your rings.”

The buzzing quiets down, and footsteps shuffle out. It's a mess of steps, puttering and pattering along the floor, and the sound is [welcomed] by silence. A door clicks shut, and you hear no lock.

Thinking if you're a prisoner or not is too much of a task right now. The strength of the saccharine scent has left with its owner, and instead now gently wafts in the air. Somewhere on the other side of the room, you hear a sigh.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have been having that conversation with you in the room.” You let out a short huff in response. “It won’t happen again, okay? We must have been loud for you, huh?” With all the strength that you can muster, you give a short nod. “Let me go get you something for the pain, okay?” You feel a soft hand over your bicep, giving you a soft squeeze. The hand lingers with fingertips that kiss over your skin in feather light touches as they pull away.

You drift between consciousness and unconsciousness, unable to fully sleep, but you don’t register anything that happens. All that you’re aware of is that someone is back in the room with you. He’s beside you, something plastic touching against your lips and the thick taste of medicine is bitter on your tongue.

“I’m going to light some incense, okay?” You’d rather he give you water or anything else to wash the taste off. “You just let me know if it’s too much.” The scent is much calmer compared to the sickly sweet one from earlier. “I had Belphegor send me some sleeping aids. I believe it’s the only reason you’re able to get some actual rest.” Your lips mouth the words “thank you”. Something soft and warm covers you, and you feel yourself sink further into the mattress. “I don’t know how much of your power was stripped, or how much you even had to begin with. Mammon was right about that, you are a newer angel, you might not even be able to do much other than heal.” His voice is growing harder to understand, it’s fading into the back, and sleep pulls you further in. “However, I wouldn’t ask you to even attempt to heal yourself- not in this state,” he whispers.

“Taste bad,” is all that you can mutter. Your head pounds, and it feels like it’s swelling. Each word that you speak is laid thick and slurred together. Every syllable only brings you sickness and an ache in your skull.

“I know,” he sighs. “The medicine here doesn’t taste good, but there’s not much that I can do about it.” A cloth dabs at your mouth. “Hell is supposed to be a punishment after all,” he says with a humorless laugh. “I’m- I’m sure that Heaven’s medicine is still divine as ever,” they mumble with a heavy weight on the words.

“Like nectar,” you speak softly, the memory of it faint on your tongue.

Something brushes along your face, and you feel the pull of sleep. “Yeah,” he breathes out, “like nectar.”

Knocking on the door disrupts your sleep. Something gargles sounds on the other side of the door. In your mind, it’s too faint to make anything out. You hear the squeak of the door open, and through bleary eyes, you make out two tall figures. Again, they speak to you, and you nod back to sleep.

You feel the latex of gloves touch your body, knuckles the brush against the nape of your neck and hands that grab your arms, ready to still you as you tense. “We’re just changing your bandages.” You shake your head. “It’ll be quick, just stay still.” You’d rather deal with an infection than with how the doctors treat you. You recall a voice making an argument that you’re not welcomed here, that you're an angel in a land of sin.

“No, no,” you mutter, tears staining your face and wetting the pillow. You feel the cold breeze on your back, whispering over your wounds. The stickiness of the gauze peels away from you, and you can smell the stench of it- metallic, rich and earthy. Something so sweet, and it disgusts you and the doctors.

Their hands grip tighter onto you, holding you down and you yelp. “Stay still.” You recall many moons ago how Lute told you something similar. How her words were laced with sorrow and false bravado. These doctors, these demons, spit the words at you, and hold you down.

Your hands claw at the mattress, your screams echoing against the wall, bouncing and ringing in your ears. Light blinds you immediately as your eyes flash open, and your head is head, pushed down onto the mattress, as curses are spit onto you. You’re in Hell. Your teeth find themselves tearing into the pillow, drool pooling into a puddle and tears slipping down.

“Just,” they grunt, and press firmly down on your back, “stay still.” You gasp for breath, kicking and digging your knees into the bed. “Please,” they beg, and you fall, your body limp and heavy on the bed.

As quick as it started, it ends just as quick. You’re left sobbing, gasping for breath, and despite the pain, and tearing open the wound, you hug yourself, your nails scratching against the cloth. They’ve placed it far too tight for you.

Only a few weeks pass when you’re finally cognitive. When your head isn’t splitting at every noise, and you can move somewhat without risking any pain or even your fear of opening the wounds back open. You stay as still as possible, and try not to do any sudden movement that would stretch your back. Lucifer has attempted to reassure you that you’re fine now, that combined with Hell’s magic and his own blessing, you should be fit to move around. Of course, you will be sore, that can only go away with time.

“You’ll be left with scars. That can’t be helped,” he told you, his eyes focused on how your hands fist the blanket, “but you’ll be okay.” He gives you a tender smile, and you cling to it in the night.

Once you were in a proper headspace, you knew you shouldn’t have been surprised to know that it was him taking care of you. From what you can faintly recall in one of the many conversations that he’s had in the room as you recovered, he knows what it’s like to be cast out.

However, you are surprised at how caring and patient he is. That despite you being able to do most things on your own without stumbling, he is still beside you, keeping you company and comforting you when he has to change the bandages. He hardly lets anyone else do it after you complained about doctors accidentally wrapping the bandages too tight. His gentleness is a mask for his pity, and he can never meet your eyes without looking away.

You’re laid on your stomach, and your only entertainment is wondering what could be inside the bedside drawers. While moving does not cause as much discomfort as it once did, you don’t risk stretching. You sit straight, and you look at the wall, and dare not to stretch your arms. Pillows have been fluffed and placed to create a soft barrier between you and the headboard of the bed. Knuckles rap against the door in a rhythm, and you stare at the wall in front of you. You wait for a second, and with a breath, you allow for the person to enter.

“Hello,” Lucifer calls. “I’ve brought you some fruit. I’m sure that you must have been feeling peckish.” You give no reply. “I uh- I also brought some books.” The bowl of fruit is balanced above the small stack of books. “I was thinking that I’ll get you a television or something soon. But maybe some literature would be good for you.” He rests the tower on the dresser, and grabs the bowl between his hands.

You should reply to him. You should tell him thank you- not just for the books and the bowl of fruit, but for housing you, for caring for you. But you cannot. Not when he’s a constant reminder of where you are.

“I was wondering if there was any type of genre that you might like.” He sounds hopeful, wanting to continue a conversation with the husk in front of him. “It would be no trouble to get them to you.”

His smile is stretched thin, and it looks painful. All of this is painful. Your eyes flitter over to the fruit bowl, and you wonder how you’d feed yourself when stretching your arms still pulls at the scars.

“Would you like some?” He leans towards you, and you have the mental image of being some hurt bird being nursed back to health. “I had some demons go over to Earth and get some for you. I thought you’d prefer this over the food that we have here. Since you aren’t accustomed to Hell’s food, yet.” You stay silent, and after a moment he sighs. His heels click against the floor, and the bowl is placed on your lap. “You know,” he starts, “it would help if you talked. I know what you’re going through, and you can’t- you shouldn’t isolate yourself.” When you refuse to answer, he sighs. “Well, if you need something, just let me know.”

Despite not wanting to be here, of not having any need to want to continue your existence, you have grown a strong dislike of being alone in this room. You have no idea if he’s isolating for your own safety, or for some other nefarious reason. He clasps the door knob around his hand, and twists it. You wet your lips, and you need someone to talk to.��

“Lucifer?” You croak out, and you surprise yourself with your voice. You hadn’t heard it in so long, past the screaming and the tears. He turns to you, taking a step closer, and his hand returns the door knob to its closed position. “Can you stay?” You feel sick looking at the fruit. “Please?”

With a gentle smile, he nods his head. “Of course.” He grabs a chain from the corner of the room and carries it to sit beside you. It’s a deep wooden color, intricate designs carved into the legs of the chair, and a deep red cushion that is stitched into the seat and the back.

The silence between the two of you is broken by the crunch of the fruit. You pierce a grape with the silver tines of the fork, and your body aches with the movement to bring it up to your mouth. The sweet juice does nothing to aide in your brooding and the awkward silence.

He’s right, and you know that. You have to try. He’s the only contact that you have. Adam always hated how you’d hide your emotions, how you rather shut the world off, and at least that hasn’t changed since your falling. You need to talk to him. You can see the attempt that Lucifer has been making in order to keep you happy, to make your time here just a bit more bearable. You suck in your lower lip, and let your tongue brush over where your teeth have grazed.

“I was promised a trial,” you start. His eyes are on you, and you see him fiddle with his tie. “They promised it would have been fair.” You frown, and shake your head, an ache heavy in your chest. “I was so hopeful that it would have been.” The fruit is bitter on your tongue and you force yourself to swallow it.

After a moment’s silence, he speaks. “Who would have been the judge?”

The apple is pierced between your teeth, the skin ripping from the flesh of the apple. It was cute with care, no hint of the core tarnishing the fruit, ripe and perfect, only to be mauled by your teeth. “Father.” You swallow the fruit. “Or perhaps one of the Virtues.” Oranges are peeled, torn apart from the other slices, the piths of white removed. “I was worried that I would have fallen, even before I was given my verdict. My-” you look at Lucifer, and you remember who he has stolen- “I feared that I would have fallen, because I didn't matter. No one questions Heaven’s beliefs, not since-” you glance at him, and he turns his head- “I was sure I would have met the same fate.” The sweetness of the strawberries make your jaw tingle and ache. “And I did.”

“I’m sorry.” You hold the fork tightly, the silver pressing into the flesh of your palms. “The fear you had must have been,” he pauses, “intense.”

There is no one better who understands, other than Lucifer himself. You nod, and let the fork ding against the glass of the bowl. “I was good. I did what was needed of me, I didn’t dare speak out of turn.” You think of how Adam would run his mouth, how every other word would be a curse, would be of anything lewd. “Perhaps I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. Not if a question were enough to have me expelled from Heaven.”

A gloved hand reaches, and falls just before your thigh. A gold band hugs at his finger, and you’re surprised to have yet seen his wife. Feeling your stare, he turns his hand, and lets the other fingers hide the symbol of matrimony.

“Sometimes, that’s all it takes,” he says quietly, his tone soft, and wistful. “But, if it makes you feel any better, Hell has some redeeming qualities. It’s not all pain and suffering.” You look at him, and he gives you a smile. “We have an amusement park. There’s a uh-” he scratches the back of his neck, his gaze pointed elsewhere and checks flushing- “ride modeled after me.”

The corners of your lips turn, and you narrow your eyes at him. “After you?” You ask, an elfish tinge laced into your words.

“Shaped like my head.” A finger makes a circle in front of his face.

You scoff out a laugh, and the sound surprises you. You attempt to hide the smile, but when the corners still turn upwards, you look at your lap. “You are the Avatar of Pride after all,” you tell him, the lilt faint on your words.

“It’s actually very impressive,” he points out. “A whole ride dedicated to my likeness.”

“The line for it must be awful.” The juice of the fruit is thin on your tongue. “Heaven has zoos. There’s an area where you get to feed the birds out of the palm of your hand.” You push the fork upwards with the knuckle of your index. “They hardly ever peck your palm, but when they do, we call them kisses from one of Father’s creations.”

He snorts, and shakes his head. His smile is soft, and there's a lingering sadness to it before it falls. “Down in the Wrath ring, there are livestock shows where you’ll find horse bucking and catching the flamed greased pig.” You give him a look, and he smiles. “It’s not as nice as the zoo, I’m sure, but it’s just as entertaining.” He leans back on his chair. “Sometimes I would take my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” You knew of his wife, but you hadn’t realized that they had a child. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

He winces, and nods sheepishly. “Charlie,” he tells you her name. “I think you’d like her- she’s peppy.” He gives you a tense smile, and looks away. “We don’t talk as much as we used to.”

You frown. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shakes his head, and lets out a sigh. He sits straighter, and pulls his shoulders back. “How are the bandages?” You roll your ankles, unsure what to make of the sudden shift in conversation. “They’re not too tight are they?” It’s not your place to pry, and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable when he’s the one caring for you.

“No, Lucifer,” you answer. “They’re fine. Thank you.”

He nods, and you can tell he’s grown uncomfortable now. You don’t blame him. “Of course. I wanted to make sure that you were comfortable. As much as possible.”

A silence befalls between the two of you. You bite into the fruit, and force yourself to swallow it. The nectar is sweet and makes your jaw ache. Beside you, Lucifer clears his throat, and you turn to him.He looks away, his eyes trained on the walls.

“If I may ask, I- Well you see, you know my name-” he looks at you again, and you tap your nails against the glass- “and I don’t know yours.” Your eyes widen, and you try to think back on when you might have whispered your name to him, but you can’t recall it. “I just- I was thinking since you’re here, and I’ve changed your bandages, I thought, that I should be calling you by your name.”

“My name?” You whisper, and you feel silly for keeping it close to you. For just a fraction of a second, for some far away thought to be held, that you didn’t want to share the last thing that ties you to Heaven.

“If only that’s okay. If not, we can come up with a nickname or something.”

You shake your head. You’ve kept your name to yourself, and you wonder if your pain-induced haze, if he’s ever asked you for it. You stretch your lips, and wet your tongue. “Did you ever ask for it,” you hold the words on your tongue, and they are heavy like wine, “when I was in and out?”

“Yes,” he confesses. “You wouldn’t answer.”

A name given by Heaven; whispered to you gently in the arms of Father, as sunlight shined down upon you and warmth surrounded you in your creation. It’s silly, and childish to cling to it, to hold onto it like a child holds onto their blanket, but it’s all that you have left. Everything else was stripped from you, taken and tossed aside, and you wonder if your name even holds any significance back home.

You turn to Lucifer, and your name is heavy on your tongue, bitter like wine, and it’s your name, fitting you like a glove that will fit no other.

Lucifer repeats your name, whispering it under his breath, tasting it between his canines and tongue, and you watch him. Chills run down your spine, and the feeling is not unpleasant. He catches your eyes, and his cheeks flush, the red spots darkening, under your gaze. He calls your name once more, louder and clearer, want held between the vowels, as if to savor your name, to savor what you’ve given to him.

You nod, your chest aflame, as if you’ve done something scandalous. You can’t trust your voice, not when he's looking at you. Your knuckles feel as if it’s on pins, tingling and having you scratch against the bowl.

He glances at your lap. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” you breathe out rather quickly.

He reaches for the bowl, grabbing it by the rim and stands from his chair. You watch in silence as he pushes the chair back, letting it block one of the drawers from the nightstand. The bowl clinks against the mahogany of the dresser, and he grabs the books, flush against his chest.

“I hadn’t meant to leave the books so far from you,” he says, placing them on the nightstand. “They’ll be closer within your reach.” You nod, and peek over, reading the title of the first book. “I’ll be back in a few hours, if you need anything, feel free to call out. I’ll make sure to hear it.”

He walks away, his heels clicking against the floor, and you don’t want to be alone anymore. “Lucifer,” you call out, fisting the blankets in your hand. He turns around, pressing the bowl against his body, his hand wrapped tight around the doorknob, already opening it and stepping into the rest of his domain. You swallow nothing, and try not to think of anything other than gratitude. “Thank you for everything,” you tell him, sending him a thinned smile.

“Of course,” he calls your name in a sweet tone. “Whatever you need, just let me know.”

The door closes shut, and you let out a breath. Your hands fist at your shirt, grasping and you bite the inner corners of your lips, feeling the soft flesh of it be pierced by your teeth. It’s been far too long since you’ve had a gentle hand, since you’ve had someone be gentle with you. A hand reaches out and scratches along your bicep, pulling the skin and leaving soft arches across.

You hadn’t realized how much you would miss Adam.

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