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a-case-of-attachment · 2 months

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The Lamb & The Serpent

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Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, sex, p in v, swearing, virgin reader, first time, awkwardness, Lucifer being awkward, fluff, relationship are hard sometimes that’s why communication is key, romance isn’t dead, Lucifer and his oral fixation, wholesome smut, they are in love your honour.

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After his little chat with Asmodeus and his subsequent awaking to what had actually been going on over the past couple of months Lucifer had every intention of sitting you down so he could apologise for his poor behaviour and reassure you that he was very much interested in what you were offering. That had been the plan anyway but unfortunately things just hadn’t gone his way and Lucifer had been forced to spend the last three day refereeing the ongoing argument between Asmodeus and Mammon as they bickered over the little clown imp they both had their eye on. It had been a headache inducing mess, one that had ended with Lucifer snapping at the embodiment of greed, his horns and tale making an appearance when he had missed yet another call from you.

He was beyond glade it was over with, and Lucifer had barely even managed to say goodbye to Asmodeus before he was teleporting home, appearing in his lobby and just about ready to hide away in his work room until he could stomach being social again. Maybe with an exception or two. Lucifer would very much like to waist a couple of days curled up with you on the sofa as well as having the chance to catch up with Charlie. He could always invite Charlie over for afternoon tea and a chat, maybe even invite Vaggie along as well. Considering she was the love of Charlie’s life he really hadn’t spent enough time getting to know her. Plus, she was an angel, so they already had something in common. Though maybe not the best thing to bond over considering neither of them was likely to want to talk about that aspect of their lives. Maybe you could come along as well and after Charlie and Vaggie had gone the two of you could actually have that conversation about what you wanted from the other physically that you probably should of had a month or so ago. With a plan in mind Lucifer had planned on going straight to bed when he got in but apparently, he wasn’t the only one with plans for his evening.

He knew something was off the moment he appeared in the lobby, the small space feeling warmer than normal and smelling faintly like apple pie. When he opens his eyes it’s to find candles scattered across every surface, the yellow flames glowing warmly and casting long shadows up the walls. The floor is scattered with petals, the light of the candles making them shimmer like an oil spill. Confused Lucifer eyes the trail of petals and candles suspiciously calling out a tentative “hello?” in the hopes of getting an answer for the unusual décor. There comes no answer but the floorboards above creak, letting him know that he’s not alone in the house.

With a frown and a huff Lucifer followed the trail of petals and candle light down the hall and up the stairs, going as slowly and lightly as he can as not to make a sound. Logically he knows that no one down here can hurt him, not unless they had some form of angelic weaponry but that was unlikely considering they were still a rare and expensive commodity despite the amount of angels that had met their end down here over the eons. That doesn’t stop him from being cautious though. Just because a knife to the chest won’t kill him doesn’t mean it’s not going to hurt and despite his reputation amongst the living Lucifer isn’t really that into the whole pain and torture thing. It doesn’t really occur to him that it could be someone he knows who is responsible for the moody and romantic vibe. Even as he steps onto the landing and finds the trail leading to his bathroom door Lucifer doesn’t consider it, that is not till he’s stood in front of closed door and reading the note that had been stuck to the wood with a little duck shaped pin.

His hand trembled a little as he reaches up to take it down, tears clinging to his lashes as his heart swells with the love he had for you. He reads it twice, eyes dragging across the page slowly because he can’t quite believe what he’s reading. You wanted to take care of him, worried that he had been overdoing it the last couple of days and knowing full well he wouldn’t look after himself. You had given him strict instructions to relax, insisting that he spend at least an hour in the bath and that he not think about anything work related. That had him laughing, wiping away his tears as he imagined you stood there with your arms crossed over your chest and looking at him expectantly, your little lamb ears completely ruining the stern look you were going for. Adorably cute and just begging to kissed.

He couldn’t believe you had done this for him. Yes, the candles and petals seemed a bit over the top, but Lucifer liked it all the same. It must have taken you a while to set it all up and his heart feels like it might burst when he realises what that means about how you must feel about him. Surely if you didn’t love him then you wouldn’t have gone to such lengths? And if you were doing romantic things like this then that meant he hadn’t messed up as badly as he had feared.

Oh.

You were wooing him! The realisation had Lucifer feeling giddy, practically bouncing in place he was so excited. He had never been wooed before. Yes, Lilith had loved him, had told him often and never denied him any physical displays of affection but she had never been one for grand displays or romantic gestures. That had been Lucifers thing, always the one showing up with gifts or ridiculously large bouquets of flowers. He was the one who made romantic dinners for the two of them, the one who would run her baths and brush her hair whilst telling her how beautiful she was, how he loved and adored her. He had done the wooing, not the other way round but now? Knowing that you were doing something special for him? Lucifer hadn’t felt this loved and cherished since, well, not for a very long time and he wasn’t really sure what to expect when he opened the door.

He knew what he would do if it was him doing the romancing, had done it enough for Lilith before that it seemed like a logical conclusion that you would be waiting for him inside. Maybe he would catch you leant over the bath, fingers testing the water temperature and smiling ever so sweetly over your shoulder at him. Maybe you would be perched on the edge of the tub, waiting patiently for him to come to you and place a kiss upon your lips. Or maybe, just maybe you would already be in the bath, the bubbles keeping you hidden from him until he had stripped naked and sunk into the water with you. They’re all welcomed scenarios and Lucifer finds himself holding his breath as he slowly pushes the door open, leaning around it in an attempt to see what it was hiding from him.

You are not in the bath, not in the room at all but what there are is more petals scattered across the tiled floor, candles placed on every available surface and giving the room a warm and inviting glow. The bath tub is full, steam curling up from the red bubbles and carrying with it the smell of cinnamon and clove. There’s a small table next to the bathtub, a small selection of candles sat on top of it along with a couple of bottles of toiletries. Bottles that hadn’t been in his house that morning when he left. The whole room looks like a scene from a romance novel, inviting Lucifer in and offering him something that he had never thought he would get to experience for himself. Yes, he is disappointed you aren’t there to share in it with him but after his behaviour these last few months he isn’t surprised that you are keeping your distance. Oh well, Lucifer will follow your orders, planning on luxuriating in the warm waters of his freshly drawn bath and then he would look for you, hopeful that you were still somewhere within his home and not having snuck back to the hotel whilst he was preoccupied. He had a lot to thank you for and didn’t feel like waiting till morning to do so.

With a smile still firmly in place Lucifer followed the trail of petals over the vanity, already pulling off his jacket and eyeing his bath excitedly only to be brought to a sudden stop when his foot hits something soft and squishy. Frowning Lucifer looked down, stepping back slightly so he could get a better look at what he had trodden on. Two sets of black beady eyes stare lifeless back at him from within a round yellow face. Ducks. He’s looking down at ducks. Two large squishy duck plushies with holes in their backs. Are they slippers? Confused Lucifer went to bend down and pick one up, placing his hand in the counter for balance except his hand didn’t touch the cool marble it should have. Instead his fingers sank into something soft and fluffy, Lucifer turning his head to see what it was only to come face to face with even more ducks except these ones are printed onto a deep blue fabric, the space in between decorated with little white stars that seemed to sparkle in the candle light.

Abandoning his original task Lucifer stood back up, frowning down at the neatly folded fabric and the small white card that sat on top, his name scrawled in your familiar font on the front. Turns out they were a gift for him, a set of matching flannel pyjamas and plushie slippers for him to change into after his bath. Lucifer had stood there for a long few minutes, card in hand and staring down at his rubber ducky slippers trying not to cry because of how happy he felt.

It had been centuries since Lucifer had been gifted anything. Yes, he had received bribes and sacrificial offerings but that wasn’t the same. This was heartfelt, picked specifically because of who he was as a person and not because of his status. A part of him does question how you could afford the obvious expensive items because he knows that Charlie doesn’t pay you for the work you do at the hotel, but he squashes that down quickly deciding that it wasn’t important. He knew you, knew that however you had come to possess them it wouldn’t have been by nefarious means. Plus, he’s too happy to care. Not only had you arranged a candle lit bath for him, but you had also given him a gift. There was no doubt in his mind you were trying to woo him now, Lucifer feeling giddy and excited for what would come next. But first, he had a rather lovely bubble bath to sink into.

He makes sure they are folded nicely, slippers tucked in against the vanity before he starts removing his clothes. He’s quick but methodical about it, removing one item after another and folding them neatly so he can stack them next to the pyjamas. His shoes get tucked under the unit next to his new slippers, his cane clipped onto the hook on the side and his hat placed gently atop the hat stand towards the back. Once naked Lucifer runs his hand over the soft fabric once more before turning and heading to the bath.

The groan Lucifer makes as he sinks down into the warm spice scented water sounds practically sinful, but he doesn’t think he would have been able to contain it even if he had tried. It feels amazing, the water almost instantly soothing his aching muscles and helping him to relax. He doesn’t know what you had put in the water but whatever it was surely had to be made of magic of some kind because Lucifer doesn’t think he had ever felt this light and boneless before, just drifting peacefully as the warmth from the water seeped into his very core and left him feeling like he was floating on a cloud. Or maybe it’s just because it’s you that had done this for him that makes it feel a thousand times better than it ever had before. Magic or love? Maybe they were one and the same, intertwined so closely that you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Lucifer couldn’t tell, all he knew was that he felt happy and loved and that was something he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

He sits there for what feels like hours, mind blessedly calm and the water never getting cold. It’s only then, as he truly relaxes, that Lucifer hears it. The soft sound of music comes from his adjoining bedroom, the gentle mix of piano and violin creeping through the gaps under the door, hauntingly beautiful and painfully familiar even though Lucifer can’t quite recall where he had heard it before. He doesn’t remember if it had been playing the whole time and his breath catches at the thought of you being in his bedroom. So close yet hidden from him. He wants to call out to you, see if you will answer but he also doesn’t want to break this strange spell he finds himself under. Nor does he want to ruin something you must of worked so hard on. So, Lucifer stays quite, eyes slipping closed as he sinks further into the hot water and lets everything that had been weighing him down go, giving in to the tranquil bliss you had gifted him.

Lucifer doesn’t know how long he stays there for but when he stirs, he finds that most of the bubbles have gone, and the water is lukewarm at best. Deciding that it had probably been over an hour at this point Lucifer finished washing quickly, using the things you had left for him and delighting at the crisp apple scent mixed with cinnamon and ginger with a hint of nutmeg and cardamom that wafted up from the open bottles. He makes sure to wash every inch of himself, even conditioning his hair as well as shampooing, wanting to make sure he used everything you had left for him.

He feels fresh and relaxed when he steps out of the bath, wrapping himself in the ridiculously large and fluffy towel that had been left next to the tub for him. He dries himself quickly, eager to try his new pyjamas on and by the time he’s taken the few short steps across the room his body is mostly dry if not a little pink tinged from how vigorously he had been rubbing at it. The pyjama trousers are just as soft as they had looked, Lucifer letting them sit low on his hips as he shoved his feet into the slippers. He forgoes his shirt for now, a smaller towel draped over his shoulder and catching the water that dripped from his hair as he looked for his hairbrush. It’s not there though and without thinking he is already heading towards the adjoining door to his bedroom, tugging the towel up to rub vigorously at his still wet hair as he flings the door open. He’s already a couple of steps into the room when he suddenly stops, the small gasp catching him off guard.

Lucifers head snapped up at the sound, his eyes going wide when he found you stood there. Oh, but what a sight you were, all wide eyed surprise and lips slightly parted as you took in his half-dressed state. But that wasn’t the best part. Oh no, the best part was that the two of you matched, all the way from the yellow duck slippers on your feet to your pyjamas. They were the exact same ones you had gifted him except where his were trousers yours were shorts, cutting off mid-thigh and leaving your legs blessedly bare. The two of you just stand there, Lucifer completely enraptured by how adorably beautiful you are whilst you stare at his bare chest like you had never seen a half-naked man before.

You are the first to come to your senses, coughing nervously before purposely looking at a spot somewhere over his should as you asked if he had “enjoyed your bath? I know it was a little over the top, but I just wanted to surprise you and, well you seemed a little stressed when we spoke last night, and I thought this might help you relax a little.” Lucifer lets the towel fall forgotten to the floor, striding across the room so he is standing before you, taking your hands in his and waiting for you to look at him before thanking you. You look so relieved when he tells you how much he had loved it, giving him one of your sweet little smiles when he admits that “no one’s ever done something like that for me before and I…thank you, for taking care of me.” He means to say a lot more, but his voice gets caught in his throat and Lucifer can only hope that his choked up little thank you conveys everything he hadn’t been able to say.

Despite his lack of words, you had seemed to understand, cupping his cheek and looking him in the eyes as you swore that you would “show you every single day from here until forever how much you mean to me Lucifer.” Smiling tearfully, he had placed his hand over yours on his cheek, turning his face slightly into your palm as he told you how perfect that sounded and promising to do the same. Lucifer would spend the rest of eternity showing you how much he loved you, would tell you at least twice a day and make sure that you never stopped smiling, always feeling happy and loved. You were too pure of a soul to be down here, and you were definitely too good for Lucifer, but you had chosen him all the same and if heaven had denied you paradise, then he would create a slice of heaven in hell, just for you.

Lucifers the one who breaks the silence between you this time, taking the hand that’s on his cheek and placing a soft kiss on your knuckles before asking about your current state of dress, and noting how adorable you look. Turns out there had been more to Lucifers surprise because not only had you given him a gift and helped him relax you also apparently had plans for his sleeping arrangements, gesturing behind you to the camomile tea that sat on the night stand whilst explaining that you thought the two of you “could snuggle. JUST snuggle. I thought it would be nice for us to, well you know, cuddle.” Lucifer hears what you are saying, would love nothing more than to climb into bed with you and spend the night wrapped in your arms but there’s just one slight problem with that. Lucifer isn’t so sure he would be able to spend the night with you in his bed without experiencing some physical side effects.

His mind kind of gets stuck on that, pulling up every scenario that could unfold by agreeing to sharing his bed with you. Only two out of a dozen possibilities don’t end up with you both naked, and only one of those isn’t sexual in nature. It’s bad, so very very bad to be thinking about such things, especially when you were trying to be romantic and show him how you felt but by the way you were blushing and pointedly not looking at him or the bed Lucifer thought that maybe he wasn’t the only one with less than pure thoughts about the situation. His first instinct is to steer the conversation well away from anything even remotely close to sexual, but he knows better than that now. That being said it doesn’t change the fact that before anything like that could happen between the two of you Lucifer needs to apologise for his behaviour over the last few months and also get verbal confirmation from you that adding sex to your relationship was actually something you wanted.

Lucifer makes sure to tell you that “spending the night with you in my arms sounds like a dream come true,” and it does. He has often dreamed of just holding you, getting to feel your body against his as the two of you simply lay beside one another but considering how he had been reacting to your most simple of touches these last few months he knows that an innocent snuggle wouldn’t be possible for him. The question is how does he tell you that without sounding like some sort of sex obsessed weirdo that can’t even make it through a night of cuddling without getting hard?

Trying to buy himself a little extra time to think Lucifer had directed you to sit at the end of the bed, coming to stand in front if you and nervously running a hand through his still damp hair. Maybe doing this when he was shirtless was a mistake, but he knew that if he disappeared back into the bathroom, he would probably lose his nerve and either end up embarrassing himself or upsetting you. No, he needed to do this now. You deserved the truth, though maybe getting you to sit on his bed was also a mistake, Lucifers eyes drawn down to your bare thighs, realising that if he were to drop to his knees his head would be just the right hight for him to…. NOT HELPING!

You would think that after having been through all this with Asmodeus it would have been easier to tell you he was sorry for his behaviour and explain exactly why he had acted in such a way, but it wasn’t. Not in the slightest and Lucifer found himself stumbling over his words once more, looking over your shoulder to avoid the temptation of letting his gaze wander down too far. You don’t question his lack of eye contact, letting him ramble on about how he “didn’t mean to make you think that I wasn’t interested because I am. Very interested actually but you’ve never, you know, been with anyone before and I didn’t want to rush you into something you weren’t ready for. Not that you can’t make those decisions yourself. It’s just, well, umm, sex, can be messy and complicated, even when you know what you’re doing and I ah, I didn’t, DON’T! want to hurt you.” It’s like Asmodeus’ all over again, Lucifer making a complete mess of trying to tell you what he had thought was happening and what was actually going on.

Why was he so bad at this? All he needed to do was apologise for misunderstanding your attentions and reassure you that he was completely committed to this relationship, regardless of if it included sex or not but if that was something you were interested in then he needed you to just tell him that because he would be thrilled to have the pleasure of well, you. There! That’s all he had to say and yet the words that came out of his mouth were “sex is good. Would, be good, with you. If that was something you wanted to have, with me?” He can’t help but grimace at how ridiculous he sounds, hiding his face in his hands and contemplating opening a portal up underneath himself so he can save you from listening to any more of his embarrassing drivel.

You don’t seem to think he’s messed up though, gently taking his hands in yours and lowering them so you can look him in the eye. You’re all soft smiles and gentle words as you apologise to him, cutting off his insistence that you had nothing to apologise for by placing a finger against his lips, Lucifers voice disappearing in an instant. He watched you with wide eyes, captivated by you as you told him that you “hadn’t considered your feelings and I’m sorry for that. Just because I don’t care about my lack of experience doesn’t mean you feel the same and I should have realised that instead of continuing to try and start something and making you feel uncomfortable. I know now that you were worried that I might be pushing myself into it without really knowing what I was asking for but I am an adult Lucifer and I need you to realise that I wouldn’t have even considered sleeping with you let alone trying to initiate it if I didn’t think I was ready for that with you.” You say it so much better than he ever could, having a way with words that leave Lucifer feeling like he is on the edge of tears and yet full of so much joy he might burst from it.

There are so many things that Lucifer wants to say to you. Like how deeply he cares for you. How he would be willing to go as slow as you needed him to if it meant you felt safe and comfortable with him. How he wanted you in his life, however he could have you because you made it that much better, smile as bright as an angels grace that never failed to chase away the gloom that hung over him like a cloud. He doesn’t say any of that though, taking your hands in his as he declared “me to. I’m ready,” because he was. Lucifer was ready to take that next step with you, both inside and outside the bedroom.

The kiss you give him is chaste, but it doesn’t stay that way, your tongue sweeping across his lips. He parts them eagerly this time, welcoming the gentle cares of your tongue against his. The two of you should probably talk more but for now it seemed like the time for words was over, the months’ worth of denial finally catching up to you both. Lucifer follows you wordlessly when you scooch back onto the bed, his lips never far from yours as he climbs up onto the bed until he’s hovering above you. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer so you can whisper in his ear, lips brushing teasingly against the sensitive shell of his ear when you ask him if he would “be my fist? There’s no one else I would rather it be. Please Lucifer, take it, it’s yours.” It sends a shiver down his spine, a long buried ache growing in his chest and pressing almost painfully against his rib cage. You’re offering him something precious, something that once given can’t be taken back. A part of yourself that will forever be his, a mark on your very soul that will never fade. It’s an honour that Lucifer would be a fool to refuse so he doesn’t, murmuring his devotion against your lips even as he slides a hand under the fabric of your pyjama shirt, deft fingers dancing across your stomach and up your side, your startled gasp like the start of a symphony written just for him.

Lucifer makes love to you that night. It’s the only way he can describe it. He’s slow, gentle, the two of you pressed as close you can get without it interfering with him slowly stripping your clothes off you, Lucifer enraptured by every inch of you that is revealed to him.

There’s something addictive about the little moans and gasps you let out as Lucifer explores your body with his hands and mouth. He liked the way your breath hitches when his fingers skim across the swell of your breasts and pinched gently at your hardened nipples. He craves the little gasps you make when he kisses his way down your body from your lips to your hips, nipping and sucking gently as he goes before soothing over the slight sting with a delicate kiss. You respond so beautifully to him, unashamedly vocal in your pleasure as you squirm in his hold, arching into his touch like you were chasing it. He’s already addicted to it, to you but there’s one thing he loved above all else, the most beautiful sound to fall from your parted lips and leaves him whimpering, desperate to hear it again and again.

“Lu...Luci…Lucifer! Please, I…oh gods, yes! Please. Lucifer I…LUCIFER!” It’s like music to his ears. A symphony of moans and gasps, his name falling from your lips like a prayer and all because his wicked tongue had made its way between your legs. Lucifer had moaned like a starving man when he had gotten his first taste of you, pressing his face as close to you as he could get. He had tried to go slow, aware that no one had ever done this for you before and he had started out like that, tentative and gentle as he tried to figure out what it was you liked and didn’t. As soon as he had started to figure it out though Lucifer was relentless, alternating between fucking his tongue into your tight cunt and sucking gently on your sensitive clit. He felt drunk on you, hungry to taste your climax on his tongue and desperate to know how loudly he can get you to scream his name. Hopefully loud enough that all of heaven will be able to hear.

Lucifer spent a while between your legs, his own neglected cock tenting his trousers and begging for attention. This wasn’t about him though. It was all about you, about your pleasure and Lucifer was all for denying himself when he got to listen to you fall apart on his tongue. He could happily stay there for hours, days even, feasting on your sweet nectar and listening to you cry out for him in pleasure filled desperation. Maybe another time, he didn’t want to overwhelm you, plus this was about what you wanted not him and from the way you were practically grinding against his face Lucifer could guess what it was you were after.

His fingers replaced his tongue, two slipping into you easily as his mouth latched onto your clit, licking and sucking on the little nub as he fucked his fingers into you. He knew that no matter how gentle he was with you it was going to hurt to some degree but the more relaxed and looser you were the easier it would be for you when Lucifer finally got to feel you around his cock. So, he worked another finger into you, his teeth nipping at the little bundle of nerves as you pressed down against the intrusion, moaning ever so sweetly at the stretch. It doesn’t take long for Lucifer to add a fourth finger or for you to clench down on them, crying out his name as you climax. Lucifer lets out his own moan, working you through it and lapping up your juices as they flow out around his fingers.

He works you through it, fingers slowing down till they were barely moving as his tongue drags across your opening. He stays there till you let out a little whimper, tugging at his hair as you press your hips back into the bed. Reluctantly Lucifer moves, not wanting to leave you feeling to overstimulate or overwhelm. It is only your first time together, first being the important word there because Lucifer plans on there being many more times in your future, maybe even again tonight. If he’s lucky.

Feeling how wet his chin is Lucifer doesn’t even think about letting his tongue snake out of his mouth, dragging across his chin and savouring every last drop of you, his eyes falling closed as he moans softly. Your choked off moan has his eyes snapping open, dragging his gaze up the naked expanse of your body until his eyes meet yours and the dark hungry look you give him as you stare at his mouth. Lucifer can’t help but smirk, lifting his still slicked fingered to his mouth. He watches you from under hooded eyes as he drags his tongue up them, slipping them into his mouth one by one so he can suck them clean.

He’s barely removed them from his mouth before you’re surging up to claim his lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing Lucifers startled moan as you pull him down slightly to meet you. It’s an interesting position, Lucifers thighs shoved under yours and an arm wrapped around your waist to help keep your balance whilst he cups your neck and jaw with his other hand. You don’t seem to care, weight braced on one arm and a hand buried in his hair. One of your legs is wrapped around his waist, pressing his hips down even as you raise yours up to meet him. It’s too much, Lucifer breaking away from the kiss with a gasp and a shudder. He stays close, forehead resting against yours as you breathe each other in, Lucifer shamelessly grinding against you like he had no self-control. He doesn’t, not when it comes to you and he probably would have carried on as he was, grinding against your core in a pale imitation of what he really wanted until he crashed over the edge and spilt inside his trousers like an inexperienced teenager if it hadn’t been for your breathy little “please” so desperate and wanton and Lucifer couldn’t wait a moment longer.

He gives you one last kiss, nipping gently at your bottom lip as he pulls away before shuffling off the bed. He’s already pushing down his pyjama bottoms before he’s even got one foot on the floor. It goes about as well as could be expected, Lucifers foot slipping as the other gets caught in the fabric. He goes down gracelessly with a thud, landing in a sprawling heap on the floor. It doesn’t deter him though, yanking the offending garment off and quickly jumping back up onto his feet only to find you kneeling at the end of the bed and looking down at him with concern. Lucifer laughs nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck and insisting that he was fine. There’s a beat of a second, a small pause as your eyes narrow slightly like you’re trying to figure out if he’s telling the truth. You must decide he is because you smile fondly at him, shaking your head slightly and rolling your eyes even as you offer him your hand.

He takes it gratefully, following you up onto the bed once more as you shuffle back to lay against the pillows. You are beautiful in your innocence, your bottom lip caught between your teeth and head turned slightly to the side, your eyes cast down in a display of shyness that hadn’t existed the rest of the evening. You’re led in a way that leaves you both on display and hidden all at once, your arms raised and gripping at the pillow under your head whilst your hips are slightly turned away from him, one leg over the other and bent at the knee. You look like a sacrifice, led across his deep red sheets with the dim glow of the candles flickering across your naked body and Lucifer feels every inch like the devil come to claim you as tribute. It doesn’t bother him as much as he had feared though, knowing you were here willingly, giving in to your own desire for him. It helps a lot, easing his worry and boosting his confidence because he knows you wouldn’t be here like this if you didn’t want to be.

Lucifers touch is gentle as he slides his hands up your legs, slowly moving you so he can crawl between your legs. As soon as he’s hovering above you, his weight resting on his hands either side your head, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers slipping into his hair and guiding his head down to yours. He goes willingly, dropping his weight down onto his forearms as his lips meet yours in a slow and gentle kiss. All the desperation and hunger from before is gone, this kiss less about the desire you felt for one another and more about the love you feel for each other. Though neither of you had said it yet Lucifer knew it must be true. It was for him and if it wasn’t for you then it wasn’t far off.

The kiss ended when you shifted, his neglected cock rubbing against your stomach and reminding you both of the lust and need you felt for the other as it sparked back to life. Lucifer pulls away from you with a groan, head falling to rest on your shoulder as he calms himself down enough so that he doesn’t start rutting against you again. Something that isn’t helped by the fact you whisper in his ear that you’re ready, ever so sweetly begging “please Lucifer, I need you.” And oh, that does something for him, his dick twitching when you say you need him. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye when he tells you it’s going to “hurt, just a little at the beginning but I promise it will feel so good after that, just, if it’s too much, tell me and I’ll stop. We don’t have to do this tonight, not if your umph.” You cut off Lucifers ramblings with a quick kiss, cupping his cheek as you tell him that you know and how you trust him. It brings tears to his eyes, ones you quickly wipe away, but he can’t help it. You are giving him such an amazing gift, trusting him with something precious and he’s overwhelmed by the trust you had put in him to take care of you. Maybe a little to overwhelmed if he was being honest.

Lucifer doesn’t want to admit how nervous he is about this part, but it surely must be obvious from the fact that he stares down at his dick for a good few seconds before he even thinks about moving into position. He knows he’s a lot bigger than the average human male, both in length and girth and though he spent quite a while making sure you were stretched, he fears that it might not have been enough. It’s your first time, Lucifer knows he’s going to hurt you despite everything he’s done to prevent it and unless he shoved a bunch of drugs down your throat that fact isn’t going to change but that doesn’t change the fact he feels almost guilty about it. This will be nothing but bliss for him whilst you have to suffer through the pain of him tearing you apart and forcing your insides to fit around him. It’s not fair, a flaw in Gods design but unfortunately there isn’t much Lucifer can do to rectify that.

The only thing he can do is go slow, checking you’re okay at regular points and stilling when you need him to. He is right though, sinking into you is heavenly. You’re warm and tight around him as he slides in torturously slow, his breath heavy as he watched your face for any sign he may be hurting you too much. He stops when he feels resistance, covering your face in kisses in between apologising for the pain that’s about to come. Your hands tighten where they’re curled around his shoulders, bracing yourself for what’s to come even as you urge him to continue. Lucifer kisses you, deep and hungry as he snaps his hips forward and breaks through your barrier, swallowing your pain filled cry. He thinks you might have drawn blood, your nails digging into his shoulders, but he doesn’t care, holding himself still as he kisses away your tears, waiting for your command to continue. It feels like an age before your nodding, your grip loosening on his shoulders and whispering that “it’s ok, you can move. Please Lucifer. I want this. I want you.” With one last kiss Lucifer promises that you have him, mind body and soul, from here until eternity. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer, pulling his hips back and sliding back in, your hitched little gasp the only answer he needs.

It’s slow going, Lucifer fighting the urge to just slam into you all in one go because fuck, he wants to be in you already, filling you up and making you scream as he fucks you hard and mercilessly. There a mantra of next time in his head, promising himself that next time he’ll fuck you harder, faster. Next time he’ll bend you this way and that to get the best angles and get even deeper, but not this time. This time is for slow and delicate, working you up gradually so it’s even sweeter when you fall apart around him. When he’s all the way in he stops again, giving you both time to adjust because even he’s a little overwhelmed by how tight a fit it is, how your body clings to him, your insides fluttering around him and making his cock twitch from the stimulation that he’s not even sure you know you are providing. It’s taken him at least ten minutes to get here, and he feels like he’s teetering on the edge of this being over embarrassingly fast. That’s the last thing he wants, to give you the impression that sex with him would be painful and quick, leaving you unsatisfied and disappointed. That is not the kind of lover he is and Lucifer refuses to ruin your first time all because he had the self-control of Gods first man.

That surprisingly helps, the thought of you and Adam together angering him enough that Lucifers able to drive back his impending orgasm. Your patience seems to have run out though, rolling your hips against his and dragging a low moan from between Lucifers parted lips. He nips at your lip, tells you to behave but all that gets him is a seductive smirk as you do it again. Lucifer closes his eyes, arms trembling as he holds himself as still as he can, letting you rock ever so slightly on his cock. It’s not enough to be anything other than a tease but Lucifer loves it all the same. He’s always prided himself on being able to please a lover, getting off on knowing he’s driven them to such exhilarating heights. If you were to use him as a living breathing sex doll then he would have no complaints, would probably even thank you for it because he was just that desperate to please. You have other ideas though, hooking a leg around his waist, foot pressing against his ass and urging him down as you roll your hips up to meet him. Your hands back in his hair, cupping the back of his head and keeping his head tucked into your neck. Your other arm is curled under his, hand gripping his shoulder tightly as you moan ever so sweetly in his ear, asking him to “move. Please I…I…please.” You cut yourself off with a desperate little whine, pushing your heel into the small of his back and pressing him as close as he could get.

Lucifer feels awful, having made you wait whilst he collected himself when clearly you were so desperate for him. He places lots of little kisses across your shoulder and up your neck to your jaw, apologising in between because he’s “so sorry I made you wait so long for me. Promise it won’t happen again. I’m going to take such good care of, give you everything you want and more.” He’s not just talking about now and hopes that you can understand that in your current state. For as long as you want him Lucifer swears that you will want for nothing, at your beck and call every hour of every day. He will treat you like a queen, might even make you one, one day but for now he’s going to start with this.

Lucifer starts off slow, your tight grip on him loosening enough that he can pull all the way back until his tips the only part of him left inside you. He presses back in just as slowly, both of you moaning at the feel of him pressing against your walls. Lucifer can’t help but lean in, his lips finding yours in a gentle kiss, his pace just as slow and languid as the kisses you exchange. He stays as close to you as he can, his chest pressed against yours and legs intertwined as he moves within you. There’s nothing hard or fast about it, his hips rocking gently in and out of you and slowly stoking the flames of desire that burned within you. It was intimate, Lucifer unable to call it anything other than making love because that was exactly how it felt to him. Just the two of you, so close that all you can feel is the other, all you could see each other, breathing in the other’s air and lips meeting in gentle and love filled kisses as your moans and gasps mix with the sounds of your gentle love making.

It was too much, yet not enough all at once, Lucifer feeling like he was going to fall apart at the seams at any moment. It’s been a while for him, even before Lilith had left and Lucifer had known there would be a possibility that he might not be able to control himself when with you. There had never been a doubt in his mind that bedding you would be anything other than spectacular, capable of reducing him to pathetic desperate mess but this? It feels too good, too much like divinity and Lucifer can feel his tentative hold on his form slipping, overcome by his own emotions as he losses himself in the moment, completely surrounded by you.

Praise falls from Lucifers lips in a mumbled mess of words, telling you that you’re “perfect. So good. Doing so well for me. You feel amazing sweetheart, so warm and tight. Fuck. So beautiful like this and all for me. Just me. Oh fuck. Yes!” in between sloppy kisses as he trailed his lips from your mouth to your neck and then back again, stopping occasionally to suck marks into your neck, the same part of him that had delighted in being your first practically glowing with delight at all the other residents of Hell being able to see his claim on you. Or that could just be the fact he was actually glowing, what remained of his heavenly light growing brighter the closer to his climax he got.

As much as he wanted this to last for eternity Lucifer could feel his orgasm getting closer and closer, the coil in his stomach tightening as your walls fluttered around him, pulling him back in and leaving him a moaning gasping mess on the edge of tears. He can’t put it off again, approaching his end to quickly for him to slow down now. Panting Lucifer rested his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes and giving himself over to his pleasure. He is not a selfish lover though and Lucifer refuses to let himself fall over the edge without you there with him. It takes a slight bit of manoeuvring, but Lucifer managed to get a hand between the two of you, his thumb rubbing against your clit and making you cry out almost loud enough for all of Hell to hear. It wasn’t an ideal position, being pressed so close to you but he didn’t want to move, didn’t want to stop touching your because if he did this might all disappear and he would find himself alone once more, that gaping black hole of loneliness too much for him to bare.

Lucifers climax hits him suddenly, his cry of pleasure muffled as he sinks his jagged teeth into the delicate skin in your neck. Vaguely he hears your answering scream, can feel you getting impossibly tighter around him but Lucifer is to lost to really notice, his vision going white as the room floods with light, the sound of wings flapping and something smashing all but a distant hum compared to the white noise ringing in his ears. Euphoric doesn’t even begin to cover how Lucifer feels in that moment. Rapturous maybe, possibly even heavenly. All Lucifer knows is that it feels right, like being welcomed home and loved unconditionally. He falls into it, into you with, with reckless abandonment, letting the feeling drag him under the roaring waves of bliss as they crash into him.

When Lucifer comes back to himself it’s to find that he’s laying half on top of you, his leg slung over yours, arm draped over your chest and head tucked underneath your chin. You’re humming softly along to the music still playing, arm wrapped around his waist as you card your fingers through his hair. He feels boneless, happy and satisfied in a way that he hasn’t for centuries. He’s so content in-fact that that he can’t help but hum, snuggling in closer and delighting in the little chuckle it gets him. It’s only then that he realises his wings are out, three of them half hanging off the bed and draping across the floor whilst the three on the other side are bent protectively over you, keeping you hidden and safe from the outside world whilst Lucifer himself was to out of it to do so.

He’s embarrassed by his lack of control, groaning loudly and trying to hide his face in your neck as he apologises for his lack of restraint even as he tried to justify it because “it’s eh been a while since I’ve, well since I’ve done that with anyone and you were, it was, I was just…” Thankfully you stop his ramblings, your fingers pressing on the underside of his chin so he will look up at you. You understand his reaction, even going as far as to tell him how flattered you are that it happened. It makes him blush even more, wings fluttering slightly but no more so then when you thank him, looking him in the eyes and sounding so sincere and serious when you tell him that you were “glad it was you.” He wants to shrug it off, insist that it was his pleasure, quite literally, but there’s something about the look in your eyes that stops him Lucifer instead reacting up to cup your cheek and telling you how honoured he was that you had given him such a gift and promising to treasure it and you for all eternity.

The two of you share a kiss, as soft and languid as your love making had been. Lucifer was happy to take his time, to spend at least the next hour wrapped in your arms and exchanging lazy kisses but it seemed you had other ideas, pulling away to yawn loudly. Lucifer waves off your apologies, insisting that he too is feeling quite tired considering the time and your choice of evening activities. He tries to move, tries to hide his wings and pull up the covers but you put a stop to that quickly, asking ever so sweetly if the two of you could stay like this, as long as it wouldn’t cause problems with his wings of course. Lucifers to stunned by the request to do anything then just nod, curling against your side and allowing his wings to shrink to a more manageable size that’s less likely to brake something else within his bedroom. Your hand returns to his hair, fingers gently toying with the strands at the base of his skull as you a wrap your other arm around him, slipping it under his bottom wing so you can gently stroke your fingers up and down his spine. He just about resists the urge to purr like a cat though he does find himself relaxing into it, sleep finding him quickly.

It’s nice, the two of you led in his bed and enjoying the afterglow of your love making. There’s no need for either of you to talk and though Lucifer knows that at some point you will need to, a whole lifetime of things still between you that will need addressing at some point, there is no rush. He’s forever grateful that you chose to stick by him despite his misguided attempt to preserve your virtue and as he drifts off to sleep in your arms Lucifer lets himself truly feel the happiness you inspire within him because that’s what he is, happy. Happier than he had been in a long time, and he hopes, with every ounce of his being, that he can hold onto that happiness until the end of time.

@viannasthings

@loquacious-libra

If anyone else would like to be tagged please do let me know.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #reader insert #fem!reader #lucifer magne x fem!reader #lucifer morningstar x fem!reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x female reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #you #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x female reader #lucifer x reader #lucifer magne x you #lucifer magne x reader

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mooshywrites · 2 months

Text

Bloodied Stars - Part 1 - To be loved

Fem!Reader x Ascended Astarion

Masterlist

Art commissions

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A/N - I’m hesitantly excited for this series. My brain overfloweth with plot ideas and I hope you like this one as much as I do

Comment here if you’d like to be tagged in chapter updates

Word count - 4.7K

Warnings - Kidnapping, drugging, being tied up, loneliness, biting, blood (Series contains - Angst, “enemies” to lovers, pregnancy, disagreements, slow character growth, smut, typical asshole ascended astarion behavior, cliffhangers, murder, death - This takes place after the events in BG3, the ‘reader’ (you) is not Tav. Just a Baldur’s Gate resident.)

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“If you don’t leave, I wont be able to help myself from taking you as mine completely.”

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With a final brush of lip oil, you took a breath. The mirror in front of you did little to distract from the growing nervousness in your chest.

Everything was perfect, your hair delicately brushed away from your face, highlighting the softness of your features. You looked confident, looked beautiful.

If only you felt half that.

You had been on dates before, but something about tonight felt different. The woman you were meeting for dinner was different.

She was ethereal in her beauty, her white hair seeming to glow in the candlelight of your favorite haunt. You had never seen her in that bar before, but she looked at you like you were someone she had known for years. More than that, she looked at you like you were someone important. You couldn’t help the attraction you felt towards her, it was almost as if she were otherworldly.

When she asked to meet for dinner the next night, you almost couldn’t believe her words. Something about it felt too good to be true. Someone that enchanting couldn’t want anything to do with you, could they? But the way her fingers grazed your arms, the coy smile across her lips, you couldn’t help but believe she was truly attracted to you.

You couldn’t remember half of what you had talked about the day before, sure you had probably come across as a dimwit with all of your stuttering. The woman took it all in stride, even having the decency to laugh louder at your jokes than they deserved.

You hoped she would be just as alluring tonight. More than that, this time you just hoped you’d remember to ask for her name.

With a final sigh, you turned away from the mirror. Staring at it any longer wasn’t going to somehow make you feel any more confident than you felt now.

You didn’t take much with you as you exited your small home, just a clutch filled with essentials. A comb, a few vials of potions, and a tiny dagger as someone who knew you couldn’t be too careful. Even on a date with someone who may as well be an angel.

The evening air was cool as you stepped out onto the dimly lit street, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm ambience over the cobblestones. You couldn’t shake the nerves that fluttered in your stomach, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling within you.

As you made your way to the familiar inn where you were meeting her, your mind raced with thoughts of what the night might hold. Would she be there waiting for you, as captivating and mysterious as she had been that night before? Would she give you that smile that could enchant the entire room and send shivers down your spine knowing it was directed at you?

The sound of laughter spilled out onto the street as you approached the entrance, drawing closer to the source of your anxiety. Pushing open the heavy wooden door, you stepped inside, your eyes quickly scanning the room in search of her.

And there she was, seated at a secluded table in the corner, bathed in the soft flickering candlelight.

As you made your way towards her, you couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes lit up at the sight of you. It was as if the world around you faded into the background, leaving the two of you in a bubble of shared anticipation.

With each step you took, your heartbeat quickened. When you finally stood before her, she rose from her seat gracefully, a smile playing on her lips that sent a wave of warmth through you.

“Hello,” she greeted in a melodic voice. “I’m glad you came.”

You returned her smile, feeling your nerves settle a bit at her genuinely happy reaction.

“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” you replied, surprising yourself with the confidence in your tone.

She gestured to the seat opposite hers, smiling all the way.

“You know,” she started, settling in to her own chair. “Amidst the magic of last night, I don’t think I managed to get your name.”

“Oh,” you replied, trying to shake off your embarrassment as you told her. You hadn’t meant to leave her without a name. The entire night was a blur.

“A lovely name,” she cooed. “Mine’s Amastacia.”

“Right, Amastacia,” you tried the name out, wrapping your tongue around the syllables. “Is that elivish?”

“For night flower,” she nodded, giving a small shrug. “Anyways, tell me what you do for a living.”

You paused for a moment, slightly taken aback from how quickly she seemed to change the subject from her name.

“Oh, well. Im a tailor,” you offered.

As you continued to talk about your work as a seamstress, Amastacia listened with rapt attention, her eyes never leaving your face. You found yourself opening up to her in a way you never had before. Gone was your shyness, the conversation flowing effortlessly between you. The initial nervousness you felt had completely melted away.

As the evening progressed, you discovered Amastacia had a fascination with magical arts, particularly potion making. She didn’t dwell on the subject for long, it seemed she’d much rather hear about your interests. You didn’t mind much. After all, it had been a very long time since anyone had showed you this much dedicated attention.

As the night wore on, the other patrons in the inn began to trickle out, leaving the two of you in a cocoon of warmth and intimacy. A tiny part of the world carved out for just you and her in the corner of your pub.

“I’ll have to leave you for a moment,” you apologized, standing up and brushing yourself off. Amastacia only smiled back at you, softly ushering you off.

You made your way to the ladies room, relieving yourself and then moving to freshen up. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the dingy mirror, caught aback by your appearance.

You looked genuinely happy. Practically glowing.

As you walked back to the table, you couldn’t help but grin. You sat down and eyed the new ale in front of you. You may have had a little to drink tonight, but not enough to forget that you hadn’t ordered another glass.

“I ordered us both another round,” Amastacia grinned knowingly.

“Ah,” you said with a smile, bringing the glass to your lips. You couldn’t help but wince slightly at the taste, overly sweet and a hint of sour washing over your tongue. What had she ordered you?

Amastacia continued talking, oblivious to your reaction to the drink. You tried to follow along with the conversation, afraid to be rude. It must have been one of her favorite drinks if she had ordered it out of the blue. You could see the same honey colored ale swirling in her own glass. You took another sip, trying to bite back the aftertaste.

As the conversation droned on, you found yourself increasingly lightheaded. The room seemed to spin around you, the edges of your vision blurring.

Did you already have too much to drink? The ale couldn’t have been that strong.

You tried to focus on Amastacia’s words, but they seemed to meld together in an incomprehensible murmur. Panic began to rise within you as you realized something was very wrong.

Struggling to maintain your composure, you managed to stand up from your chair, swaying slightly as you did so. Amastacia’s expression became concerned, her hands coming up to steady you.

“I-… I’m not feeling well,” you stammered, your words slurring together in a jumble.

Amastacia stood with you, offering out an arm to hold you up. You could have sworn you saw a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, but anything could be a mistake with how hazy your gaze was becoming.

“Oh, my poor dear,” She purred, “Let me help you home, you look positively pale.”

“Y-yes. I think that would be good,” you muttered slowly, trying to hold onto the shreds of logic you were working with.

Amastacia guided you out of the inn, her grip firm on your arm as she steered you through the quiet streets. Your mind was foggy, thoughts disjointed as you struggled to focus on your surroundings. Through the haze, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at you, a sense of dread creeping into your heart.

As you stumbled along beside her, a wave of dizziness swept over you, distracting you from the realization you were in fact not heading in the direction of your home. You clung to Amastacia for support, her presence becoming increasingly sinister in your addled state.

Finally, you arrived at a curved wall, Amastacia ushering you to a ladder inside the watchman’s tower.

“What is this place?” you slurred, peering up the high ceiling.

“Shht shh, just climb up.” Amastacia demanded, the soft affection in her voice utterly absent.

“I’m too dizzy to use a ladder,” you whispered, darkness starting to creep on the edges of your vision.

You felt so sleepy. So incredibly sleepy.

Vaguely, you heard Amastacia curse, the walls around you seemed to shift.

It was right before you hit the ground that you realized you were the one moving, losing grips on your balance.

Thankfull, your vision went dark before you made contact with the weathered stone below

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When you woke up, it was to the muddled sound of dripping water. You tried to move, but found your hands and feet bound tightly. Panic surged through you as you frantically looked around, trying to make sense of your surroundings. You were in a dimly lit room, the walls made of rough stone. You smelled mildew and blood, the scent acrid in your filling your nose as the world became clearer.

The memories came flooding back — Amastacia, the drinks, the dizziness. You had been drugged and kidnapped. The realization made your heart race wildly with fear.

A creaking sound drew your attention to the side of the room, a figure becoming clearer in the shadows. It was Amastacia, but gone was the warm smile and gentle demeanor.

Gone was everything, in fact.

She seemed utterly numb, devoid of any emotion as she regarded you cooly. It was as if she were looking at a vaguely interesting stone instead of a tied and bound woman.

“Why have you done this?” You managed to choke out, your voice raw and barely above a whisper.

Amastacia’s laughter was hollow, still playing a part that her eyes hadn’t quite caught up with.

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Another wave of nausea hit you and you retched, only managing to spit out a mouthful of bile. You strained against the knots of the ropes, letting out a whimper as you realized you were completely helpless.

Amastacia just watched you calmly, her once bright eyes now cold and calculating. She moved closer, her steps deliberate and measured, the silence in the room oppressive. When she finally spoke, her voice was like ice, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You were simply at the wrong place during the wrong time, my dear,” her words floated through you. “Or rather you were too alone.”

The last part was tinged with a bit of sadness. Or perhaps pity. Something that was barely perceptible to your addled mind.

“Just let me go. I won’t tell anyone,” you cried.

You were telling the complete truth. If she untied the ropes here and now, you’d leave without a word to a soul. There was something so humiliating in the realization of where you found yourself.

The night replayed in your mind and you couldn’t help but feel pathetic. You didn’t even know this woman before you were at her beck and call. Hell, you didn’t even know her name before you were falling over yourself for a chance at her affections.

For a chance at love.

Your chest clenched painfully. How stupid could you possibly be.

“I can’t” she spit out harshly, the venom back in her words.

“Why not?” you gritted.

“Because I won’t let her.” A quiet voice reverberated off the walls. You spun your head, heart pounding as you looked for the source of the sound. Was it your imagination, or could you see Amastacia flinch at the voice?

A figure emerged from the shadows, their presence suffocating and dangerous. With each step closer, your fear grew until you worried it may consume you entirely. Your heart beat violently in your chest. In the back of your mind, you wondered if the other two could hear it in the all too quiet room.

The figure stepped forward into the dim light, revealing a horrifically beautiful man. His features were sharp, pointed. His crimson irises glinted in the firelight as he gazed at you, sizing you up as if you were his next meal. His white hair curled delicately around his ears, almost perfectly placed to accentuate his aura of affluence.

You looked between the two people, numbly wondering if the two were related. The pale shade of their skin, their stark white hair, down to the shade of their eyes. The man had a much more menacing presence, sending a chill down your spine as he surveyed the scene before him with a cold detachment that mirrored Amastacia. If not laced with a slight air of sick and demented playfulness.

“Who are you?” Your voice sounded foreign. One that belonged to a much braver woman.

The man’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I suppose you could say that I’m her employer,” he sneered, gesturing towards Amastacia.

Employer? Your mind raced, trying desperately to make sense of the situation. You thought back to every interaction you’d ever had. Did you say the wrong thing to someone with dangerous friends? Learn something you shouldn’t have? Sew a button on the wrong pocket of a monster?

Surely not, as painful as it was to admit, your life was exceedingly boring. Nothing you could’ve done should’ve brought the attention of kidnappers.

Before you could utter another word, the man stepped closer, looking over you with a grimace.

“You gave her too much of the sedative,” he muttered with a look of disdain.

Amastacia didn’t bat an eye before casting her head down, giving the man a small bow.

“I’m sorry, Master. I don’t think she would’ve left with me,” she explained.

The man didn’t have a visible reaction, only kneeling to reach out, tilting your chin with his thumb.

“Ah I see. A prude are we?” he added.

In any other circumstance, you may have been offended. But right now, his cold hand raising your head up had you frozen in fear.

“Leave us.” The pale elf demanded.

Amastacia dipped her head again, leaving the room quickly. Strangely, you felt yourself even more scared as she left. Yes she drugged you and then brought you here. But she was a familiar face. One much less terrifying than the one in front of you.

“What are you going to do to me?” you whispered, unable to to look away from the white haired man.

“You really don’t know?” he murmured, his gaze flitting across your features before giving you a sly smile.

Your attention shot to his teeth, long and pointed canines gently digging into his bottom lip.

Your blood drained cold. You wracked your memory, trying to remember if Amastacia had fangs as well. You couldn’t get a clear memory of tonight, but you knew that she didn’t have them when you had met the night before. You were sure of it. Was she using some sort of glamour spell?

The man’s smile grew wider as he watched your breath quicken, observing your mind catching up to where you found yourself.

In the den of a vampire.

“No,” you whimpered, tears starting to well in the corner of your eyes. You knew in your heart you weren’t walking out of here. Not without being turned into a spawn or being drained of your blood. You weren’t leaving alive in any sense.

The vampire’s smile only deepened at the sight of your terror, relishing in the fear that emanated from you. His crimson eyes glinted with hunger as he slowly stood up and circled you, his movements almost predatory in nature. Each step he took reverberated through the room, the silence amplifying the sound to a deafening degree. Your mind raced with the thoughts of escape, of survival, but deep down you knew the grim reality of your situation. Trapped in a room with a creature of the night, with no one around to hear your scream or come to save you.

Whatever fate that lay before you now, you just hoped your death would be quick and painless.

As he stopped to kneel down in front of you once more, mere inches away, his breath was cold against your skin.

“Don’t be so afraid, pet. I’m told being bit by an ascended Vampire feels quite nice. An aphrodisiac of sorts,” he purred.

“Doubtful,” you spit back, unable to keep the aggression out of your tone.

“Oh how I love the feisty ones,” he mused with a glance at your lips. “They always taste like heaven’s most delicately spiced rum.”

“I’m sure I wont taste as nice as you might believe.” Your voice was hoarse, exposing your fear through your brazen words.

The vampire took it in stride, having the audacity to chuckle. “That’s to be determined, my sweet.”

He leaned further in, causing you to recoil. He was too close, too bold, too alluring.

Alluring? Where in the hells did that come from? Your eyes snapped back to him, trying to figure out where in the pits of your brain that intrusive thought had originated. Yes, the pale elf in front of you was devastatingly handsome. But surely, the fear for your life should hold a little more grip of your thoughts.

The thought of his words brought you hurtling back to earth. Did he say ascended vampire?

Suddenly, it was all too much. You were in the clutches of a monster. More than that, the crushing weight of how you would probably die down here in this musty cell with a complete stranger dug into your chest. The idea that you got yourself into this mess because you were so desperate for someone to love you. The knowledge that there would be no one to mourn your memory. Would anyone even know you were missing? The memory of Amastacia’s words poked needles in your heart.

‘You were too alone’

A sob wracked your body and you closed your eyes tightly, trying to will away the sting of tears threatening to escape.

When you finally met the pale elf with your watery gaze, your voice was pathetic, pleading.

“Please let me live. I can’t die like this. I don’t want to die this alone.”

The elf’s expression changed in an instant, a storm of emotion flashing across his face as he leaned back suddenly. His eyes bore into yours, the glint of hunger replaced with a flicker of something else entirely. Regret? Sympathy? It was hard to tell, but you found a sliver of curiosity in the shift of his demeanor. He straightened slightly, his shoulders lowering. The predatory aura seemed to dissipate entirely as he regarded you with a newfound contemplation.

“Alone,” he repeated softly, almost to himself. There was a pause as he seemed to mull over your words, his gaze unfocused as he peered around the room before snapping back to you.

“You truly fear being alone as much as you fear death,” he stated more than asked, a hint of confusion lacing his words.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you cautiously nodded, unsure of where this sudden change in conversation would lead. You were loath to talk about your feelings around loneliness, but you much preferred it over being sucked dry of blood.

The vampire let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his pale curls in frustration.

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“You’re not?” you replied numbly, the words not truly settling in.

“No,” he answered decisively. “No, I’m not,” you weren’t sure if he was speaking to you or himself.

You tried your best to sit further up, slightly uncomfortable at how at peace you felt leaning in the pale elf’s arms. Like a lamb content in the mouth of a wolf.

“Why not?” you asked, regarding him as one would regard a venomous snake.

The vampire’s gaze softened before reverting back, an exasperated tut passing his lips. He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice surprisingly gentle. “I know what it’s like to be alone. Truly alone. And I see that emptiness in you.” he confessed.

You fought down a scoff at his words, completely taken aback that this Vampire had oddly grown a conscience. The back of your mind itched with nervousness. Could he just be toying with you? Playing a game with his food before he finally pounced?

Despite the lingering fear in the pit of your stomach, a glimmer of hope began to bloom within you.

“Then… what will you do with me?” you inquired cautiously, daring to meet his gaze.

A ghost of a smile played on his lips as he reached out a hand to gently cup your cheek. His touch was cool against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Let me taste you. I’ll only drink enough to leave you a little weak the next couple of days,” he offered. “Mostly just to see if you really are as spicy as I thought”

“And then you’ll let me go?” you asked incredulously.

A conflicted feeling flickered in his eyes, almost imperceptible as he nodded. “And then I’ll let you go.”

Confused emotions swirled within you - relief at the prospect of surviving this encounter, wariness at the vampire’s sudden change of heart, and an inexplicable curiosity about this enigmatic creature. Slowly, you nodded in agreement, a sense of resignation settling over you. He did say earlier that it wouldn’t hurt. In fact, that it would be pleasurable.

After everything that had happened tonight, surely you deserved a bit of pleasure.

The pale elf leaned closer, close enough for you to see the faint lines in the corners of his eyes, the flecks of gold in his ruby irises.

“I will not bite you unless that is what you want,” he murmured.

His breath was a mere whisper against your lips, his gaze searching yours for any sign of hesitation. You wondered silently what had caused the change in the air. What had made the menacing man suddenly so gentle with his gaze. You could feel the tension crackling between you, a palpable energy that seemed to draw you closer to him, despite the danger he represented.

As his face hovered inches away from yours, you found yourself inexplicably drawn to him, a strange pull that defied all logic and reasoning.

Here you are again. Walking head first into danger with a smile.

You nodded, giving the pale elf all the confirmation he needed that you wanted this.

Wanted his bite. Wanted him.

The vampire’s gaze darkened with hunger as he leaned forward, a gleam in his eyes that you couldn’t distinguish between being predatory or aroused. His breath was feather light against your neck, the sensitivity of your skin making you want to hide. You stayed as still as you could, letting the elf hold your head to the side. His teeth grazed your neck, sending a jolt of anticipation through your chest.

His hand found its way to your side before his fangs sunk down. The initial pain was sharp and intense, a white hot ache spreading through your shoulder. As soon as the pain had started, it was gone.

Replaced by something much, much different.

Pleasure began to run through your veins, desperate and heated. It was as if every pull of his mouth was connected to your core, pulsing through your body and turning you to liquid. You strained against your ties, helplessly craving the contact of the elf.

He took another draw and you whimpered, your hips beginning to shake with the potent aphrodisiac moving through your system. You couldn’t help but moan as you squirmed under him, your nerves alight with need.

Finally, to your disappointment and relief, the vampire pulled away, licking at the blood dripping from his chin. You stared at him breathlessly, your cheeks blushing red from the exchange.

“You taste heavenly,” he murmured.

You shifted again under his stare, all too aware at the growing wetness between your legs. You flushed with shame. How on earth could you have liked something that much? Like having his arms around you, his teeth against your neck, the feeling of him so close.

How could you want more?

The man regarded you with fascination for a moment, still mere inches away.

“What made me feel that way?” you asked, not being able to help looking at your blood smeared across his lips.

“It’s something in the bite, a venom of sorts that makes it easier to control prey,” he answered in a matter-of-fact manner. His expression grew guarded. Like he was too afraid of you seeing his true thoughts on what you had just shared. His hands reached down to undo your bindings, leaving goosebumps along your skin the entire way.

Once he was done, he looked back at you, the same unreadable expression still etched across his face.

“I must say, I commend you on your bravery,” the vampire spoke softly, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Not many make it out of this place as… whole as you do.” His eyes never left yours, a mix of hunger and curiosity swirling in their depths.

You found yourself unable to tear your gaze away from his own, feeling like you were falling into an endless abyss. The intensity of his stare made your heart race with a dangerous excitement, a thrill coursing through your veins.

As he reached out a hand to gently caress your cheek, you bit your tongue, unsure of his intentions. And yet, you craved more of his chilling presence. The pale elf’s touch was still so gentle, his fingers trailing along your skin with a light as air touch that left a trail of tinging sensations in its wake.

“You can leave now,” he whispered, his voice guarded and weakly trying to hold on to the intimidating aura he exuded moments ago.

Deep down, you knew you didn’t want to leave. You should want to run out of this place and never look back. Try to put this all behind you as some sort of crazed nightmare. Especially after being tricked by someone you had fallen for, what right did you have to want to stay? To lean into this man’s touch?

“And if I don’t?” you questioned, your voice soft and betraying every feeling of need coursing through your body.

The vampire’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, his eyes darkening with desire as he leaned in closer, dangerously close.

“If you don’t leave, I won’t be able to help myself from taking you as mine completely. When the sun rises, you’ll leave this place. But while the moon is in the sky,” he growled, his eyes glinting, “you would belong to me, pet.”

You felt a surge of conflicting emotions flood your senses yet again - fear mingled with an undeniable desire towards the dangerous creature before you. His fingertips traced down your arm, leaving a river of fire. Your heart pounded erratically in your chest as you struggled to resist the magnetic pull drawing you towards him.

A part of you screamed to flee, the logical part of your brain demanding you escape this night that could only lead to ruin.

But your heart. Your poor, naive heart.

All it wanted was to surrender to him. To explore the depths of lust and darkness that awaited in his embrace. You looked back at him, steeling your heart. In the morning, you would be alone again. But for tonight, he would be yours.

Tonight, maybe he’d even look at you the same way he did now. Gazing at you like you meant something to him.

“I’ll stay,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the dimly lit room.

The vampire’s eyes glowed with a mixture of triumph and desire as he pulled you closer, his grip steady. As his lips met yours in a fervent kiss, you knew in that moment.

Just for tonight, this pale elf was yours.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Next chapter

Comment here if you would like to be tagged in chapter updates

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

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sleepingdeath-light · 1 year

Text

willing s/o hcs ; yandere!wally

requested by ; anonymous (09/05/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; wally darling

outline ; “Yandere hcs of Wally darling with willing reader? 👉👈 gn reader preferred!”

warning(s) ; yandere character, references to kidnapping, references to drugging, violent thoughts, dark content, some fluff (very small amount at the end), reader willingly enters the relationship but isn’t aware of wally’s darker side at the time

it took wally a long time to realise why he was so dang protective of you — an embarrassingly long time now when he looks back on it

from the moment you moved into the neighbourhood he’d found himself being inexplicably drawn to you

your laugh, your smile, your eyes

he’d spend hours in home, trying desperately to recreate them — the way your eyes seem to glimmer in the sunlight, the way your lips curve perfectly when you bite back a smile, the crinkle of your eyes and the curve of your neck when you start laughing so hard you tear up

sketches, oil on canvas, watercolour, coal, chalk — but none of them worked

nothing could compare to the real thing and it drove him mad — because he didn’t know why he was so drawn to you and he didn’t know why he felt so possessive, but knowing that he couldn’t even have a recreation of you was like a knife in the wound

he’d end each night completely dishevelled: neck tie discarded, face covered in paint, shirt undone and stained, hair undone and hanging loosely over his face - knotted and messed with all of his stressing and frustration

but he never gave up, splitting his waking hours between time with you and time spent with his inferior recreations of you — his obsession growing and festering with every failure, with every second spent in your company, with every second spent awake at all

before long he found himself swallowing down insults and anger like bile whenever he saw another one of his neighbours with you — they were his friends, he’d rationalise, he shouldn’t be thinking like this of them

but still, he couldn’t help it

every time you laughed at one of barnaby’s jokes or jokingly shoved frank’s shoulder or caught eddie before he fell or tackled julie in a tight hug — he found himself fighting off a desire to do something he wasn’t made to

he wanted to scream to cry to frown but he literally couldn’t

he was trapped in a friendly smile that did little to express the unearned anguish hatred that threatened to spill over into violence every time he left home

wally had always been so happy and content as himself before you, but now he couldn’t help but wish himself to be in anyone else’s shoes

he’d happily abandon all things wally to feel your arms wrapped around him or to hear your sweet, angelic voice calling out to him with humour and praise or concern

get rid of everything he loved because he loved nothing more than you

and that was when he realised the depth of his feelings for you

that he wasn’t just being protective over a new friend, a new neighbour, that he was in love with you

and that almost made it worse

because now he had to wrestle with the concept of rejection and ruining all of the friendships he’d built during his time in the neighbourhood

he didn’t want to hurt anyone, of course not, but he was tempted to more times than he dared count

and every passing day brought him closer to giving in to his temptations and just outright kidnapping you

maybe howdy would have some stuff in stock that he could slip into your food the next time you stopped by… surely he had sleeping pills at the very least

and you already loved home — and they adores you just as much — so maybe you’d be fine with just not leaving

you’d adjust after the first few months at least — of that much he was certain

and just as he’d started to talk himself around to going through with it — just as he’d purchased all of the stuff he’d need for his plan, separately of course to not raise howdy’s suspicion — he was startled by a knock at his door

there you were, the picture of perfection that had been haunting him even in the very depths of his dreams since the moment he’d laid eyes on you, stood inches away — close enough to touch, but he didn’t — looking flustered and shy as he’d never seen before

your proposition came out uncertain and filled with backtracking and pensive apprehension as your words shook out of your trembling lips, thick with a fear of rejection

you, his muse, his darling-to-be, were asking him out on a date and you were afraid he’d reject you?

the angel he’d spent so long trying to recreate, the obsession he’d spent months trying to transfer from dangerous thoughts to palpable art

it was infeasible to him, so he spent a good while just staring at you, unable to think let alone speak

which terrified you and led to even more frenzied backtracking until he was finally able to get ahold of himself and stutter out an ‘of course’ that sounded far more confident and calm than he felt

(feeling thankful for the first time in his life for the way he was frozen in the picture of polite enjoyment — a smile he couldn’t shake nor that could stretch enough to portray his overwhelming joy)

and the two of you arranged to go on a picnic the next day, each promising to bring what you had (you, the cloth and a pair of nets; him, the food)

it would be picturesque, idyll, even

a cloudless sky with a sun that wasn’t imposing nor was it too cold (suit weather but not worth layering)

a checkered picnic blanket adorned with one of those old wicker baskets and a dozen containers of food and drink like you’d see in all of those camping adverts howdy had delivered from out of town

wide brimmed sun hats and flowers in bloom every which way, an endless floral ocean dotted with specks of blue and red and yellow that were as abundant as stars in the sky

and, of course, plenty of beautifully decorated butterflies to catch — nature’s own paintings that, though gorgeous, didn’t hold a candle to you in his mind

and that night, for the first time ever, when wally set up a canvas and tried to paint you

he could

he captured the curve of your smile and the arch of the neck

perfectly shaded the depth of your eyes and the scrunching of your nose as you grinned at him from within this snapshot

a celebration was in order, but perhaps that could wait until after your date — maybe he could combine the two somehow, he was sure you wouldn’t mind

and whilst those possessive thoughts still swirled in his head, he no longer felt as inclined to act upon them — he didn’t need to force something that was already underway

you were already his, had been for a while, and there was no need for him to worry after all

(though he did opt to keep those items he’d purchased, just in case)

he knew there was something special about you

you really were the absolute most

and he knew that your relationship would be the most beautiful thing the neighbourhood had ever seen — finally he’d get to feel the brunt of your affection, hear your laugh and be party to your fretting and concern

some dreams really do come true…

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #yandere x reader #yandere wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home x reader #yandere hcs #yandere headcanons

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hooked-on-elvis · 4 months

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How did Elvis took care of his awesome hair? 🚿🍃

Plus, a quick overview on one of the King's hairdressers and Memphis Mafia man, Larry Geller: How somewhat he was the friend Elvis needed and how Elvis' over-controlling inner circle banned Geller from their surroundings for a while.

I was actually looking if I could find Elvis' haircut name - precisely the type of haircut he had on the '68 Comeback Special and "Charro!" (1968), since I'm a girl and I have zero idea about the names for male haircuts but I just love that haircut he had so much I wanted to talk about it... anyway. But I found an article about Elvis' hair care routine and that sounds very interesting to me, so it might be something you wanna know too.

This is told by Larry Geller, so this means this was Elvis' hair routine starting from mid 60's on, precisely from 1964 to 1967, and possibly also from late 1972 to 1977 *, periods in which Larry was responsible for taking care of the King's hair.

Geller, who will be launching his own line of organic hair products later this year, tested out some of his first custom mixes on Elvis. “I used to go to the health food store and get a benign base shampoo and get some vitamin capsules and pour 99 percent pure aloe vera and other herbs into it, and shake it up,” Geller tells Yahoo Beauty. “That’s what I used on Elvis’ hair. He said to me, right from the get-go, ‘You can do whatever you want with my hair, but one thing — make sure I keep it!’” Source: Yahoo Beauty: Elvis Presley’s Hairstylist Spills the King’s Secrets by Lilit Marcus. The article was shared on a Graceland's website on January 28, 2014.

Elvis, you're the best, man. LOL. Just that comment is worth this entire post. It made me laugh. But the article goes on.

Then there was the daily routine. “I shampooed his hair regularly, usually every day. I would massage his scalp for a few minutes, then brush his hair at least 50 or 60 strokes. I was focused on long-term health of his hair, which was so important,” Geller explains. He also used products like vitamin E and jojoba oil to style Elvis’ hair and replace conditioner. Hairspray was used to set it, with Geller alternating multiple brands so that none of them would dry out Elvis’ coif too much. As for its color, Geller dyed Elvis’ hair every two to three weeks with a L’Oreal formula. What did the two men discuss during all that grooming? Religion, philosophy, books, life, and anything else you can think of. “Elvis had everything,” says Geller. “He was an extraordinary human being. He had the greatest eyes, the greatest voice, fans galore. He also had great hair.”

Elvis in "Frankie and Johnny" and "Spinout", both 1966 movies.

Larry Geller styled Elvis’ hair for: "Roustabout" (1964), Girl Happy (1965), Tickle Me (1965), Harum Scarum (1965), Frankie and Johnny (1966), Paradise, Hawaiian Style (1966), Spinout (1966), Easy Come, Easy Go (1967), Double Trouble (1967), and Clambake (1967). Geller prepared Elvis’ hair for the last time for his funeral in August, 1977.

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Elvis' hair must have been so good smelling and soft. Washed every day, organic products to make it smooth and shiny as it was. 🫠🥹

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Now, if you want to understand why there's a pause in Larry's association with Elvis, here it is:

LARRY GELLER QUITS WORKING FOR ELVIS IN 1967: INDIRECTLY CAUSED BY ELVIS' HEAD INJURY POSTPONING THE FILMING FOR 'CLAMBAKE'.

On March 9, 1967, Elvis was staying in him home in Bel Air, Los Angeles, and one incident (Elvis tripped over a TV cord in his bathroom and banged his head against a porcelain bathtub) caused the beginning of the production for the movie "Clambake", for which he was preparing to, to be postponed. Colonel Parker was fuming when he heard about the need for Elvis to take a couple of weeks of resting to recover from the mild concussion he had. It was a critical moment in Elvis' life. By the time the filming begun, Elvis even put up some weight from his normal 170 lb (77 kg) to 200 lb (91 kg) — I said it before, whenever this happened to Elvis' body it was because he was extremely distressed. He was an emotional eater.

Getting back to the accident, Parker even thought Elvis did it on purpose not to fulfill his Hollywood commitment since Presley clearly was not happy about his movies anymore, something Parker somehow blamed it on Elvis' spiritual quest. He pulled some strings to manipulate Elvis to remove Larry Geller from his inner circle by saying to him that all that spiritual thing was getting too much into his head, distracting him from his business obligations. If not enough Parker said to Presley that Larry Geller was brainwashing him because of some personal agenda he must have had in his mind — it's mentioned by someone, somewhere (i'm sorry, I'm not gonna remember where I've read it now) that Geller was planning on using Elvis' money to open a religious study center or something like that).

Basically, Parker thought Larry was a threat because if Elvis decided in throwing his career away, like some say he was by becoming a preacher, Parker would lose his most profitable and only client. Consequently all the religion and spiritual "shit" (as they called) that Larry Geller had put inside the King's head (as they thought), presenting him with many books and having deep conversations for hours with Elvis about several religious and spiritual subjects but not exclusively that, they also talked about meditation and self improvement as a human beings, astrology and so on, all of that was threatening Parker's plans over Elvis.

But Parker didn't make it on his own. Even Priscilla says in her memoir book that Elvis was obsessively reading non-stop and wanting to share his learning with everybody else, but his friends and herself didn't care about none of this self-improvement and religious talk. His inner circle even looked at Presley's spiritual quest as somewhat annoying, including Priscilla. Their thoughts about Larry Geller were something like "Larry changed his mind. Elvis is not spending time with us as he used to." Ugh!

Nobody actually told Larry to leave, tho, and Elvis wouldn't do such thing if he didn't have a good reason to - until this point Larry was a confidant to him, one of the only people he could talk about life and wonder what was God's plan for him, his true life mission, something Elvis would never cease trying to understand. However, Elvis' inner circle and Colonel Parker begun making Geller feel uncomfortable, unwelcome among the group, while they took Elvis' attention back to them, practically forcing Geller to decide to finally leave and go away for good, and he did it. But it was not something definite.

Many things happened in Elvis' life since Larry Geller and him went different ways but by August 1972, tho, Geller got back in contact in Elvis when he attended one of Presley's concerts in Las Vegas, and from then on Larry begins working for Elvis again, till the end of the King's life in 1977.

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis history #elvis presley history #larry geller #memphis mafia #colonel parker #priscilla beaulieu #priscilla presley #elvis hair #elvis the king #elvis fans #elvis fandom #60s elvis #70s elvis

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 4 months

Text

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 7

Alfie Solomons x Fem! Reader, 3.7k words, WARNINGS: mentions of blood, injury, stitches, cursing, violence

Guys... is it weird that I'm crying a little? This is the first series that I've ever done. This is from the first post i ever made on this blog, and I feel like I've met so many amazing people from this series. I did spend a good amount of time thinking of a good way to close this series, and I can only hope that I made it good enough for you guys. My heart breaks leaving these two behind, but I don't think this is the end for them. I do see myself writing some one shots or other things for these two. But regardless... I love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy this final installment. Sending all of my love always. - Mo

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Any soldier worth his salt knows what getting shot feels like. Either through their own experience or staying beside their brother. They all say the same thing.

A hard punch.

The immediate all encompassing burn.

Your body feels like you’ve been run over by a train.

Your body on fire.

Air sliding through your lungs like glass shards.

Alfred Solomons has been shot five times.

Six counting this one. The first time was when he was 14, and he was caught snatching sweets from the corner store, and the old store owner with the bad eyes shot at Alfie, grazing his left thigh. The other four times were in the war. Foot and shoulder and once in the lower back, which is still troubling him to this day. All of those were the same. Rage inducing. The bloodlust burning brighter than the flame of the pain. In hours he was fixed up. Rusty scalpels and pliers pulling out the shrapnel as he numbed the cuts by drowning in drink and breaking metal bars with his teeth.

This one was different. The burn and hit was memorable. As memorable as a betrayal. But the bloodlust that got him through that burn wasn’t present. Like warm oil being poured over his mind and body he felt the exhaustion of the tears settle over him. And look. An angel has come to take him to stay with the forefathers. Wow… what a mercy… the angel looks so much like you. Sounds and smells just like you. Like lavender. Like spilled ink and fresh paper. So soft and tender. What a mercy God has given him. That the angel to walk him to the other side would look like the only woman he has ever truly loved.

Tommy and Ollie rush over, as John pulls you away from Alfie's body. You screamed and kicked, trying to get free from John's grasp. "It's alright love it's alright. They're going to fix him up I promise love! He's gonna be ok!" John tried to calm you but you were inconsolable as you saw Alfie's lifeless body being carried out. It takes four men to life his large and hardened body off the ground, a pool of garnet the only sign of the King of Camden’s presence.

John’s attempts at soothing and assurance are met with deaf ears. What point is there for calm and rationalization when Alfie might be leaving you. What point was there to breathe, if breathing meant prolonging a life on Earth that may not have Alfie. Your mind was blank. And you body could do the only rational thing it could do. Wail and preparation for the certain mourning to come.

With a hard smack across your face you suddenly cease, as you see Polly's face in front of you, "Enough! This is not the time for screaming!"

Your lip quivered, never had you been smacked like that before. With a wave, Polly dismissed John to assist Ollie and Tommy, and took you to a chair to sit. Polly wiped your tears, "I am sorry for slapping you, usually I don't smack friends till we are at least 3 months acquainted, but I felt you needed it and I'm sure our friendship will survive. But you need to pull it together darling."

You nodded. It was needed. Even if your ego was now bruised. Polly sighed, "I know you're scared. We all have been in your shoes. But you cannot lose yourself. We need to be there for our men. Yes?"

You nodded. Your man. Your Alfie. Polly stroked your face, "He will live.”

“How can you be sure?”

Polly gives you an embarrassed look, attempting to push up the corner of her mouth, “They always do darling. Try as they might to die, they somehow always make it out. I think God may think these episodes are more of a punishment than Hell.”

A defeated chuckle pushes out of your chest. Alfie would say something as dark as that. And for some reason that makes you feel better. Makes you feel more centered. Polly grabs a bottle from the ground and takes a long swig before passing it to you. You take a longer one, pushing to suppress the sick face you make. Polly’s eyes are glassy, looking at your young face. Thinking and considering how you would handle this. Handle this life. Because if her intuition was right, and it always was, this wouldn’t be the last time you experienced this. This wouldn’t deter you from being next to Alfie. As if Alfie would ever let you go.

Polly stood up suddenly, looking in the gilded mirror on the wall nearest to her, smoothing her dress and repinning those loose curls that fell out in the fray. She holds out a regal hand to you, “C’mon dear. I know where they’d be taking him. He’ll want you near I wager.”

You nod and stand up, not making anymore to wipe the blood or tears off your face. Though it doesn’t stop Polly from straightening out your slip and placing your hair more akin to how you came in. As you begin walking to the door, you see a familiar glint in the shadows and wet of the floor.

Alfie’s signet ring. Small. Small for Alfie at least. You knew him to wear it on his left pinky amongst the rest of his rings. Pure gold, with a royal S engraved onto its front with ivy and thorns. You pause to pick it up and hold it in your hand. It must have slipped off in the scuffle and removal of his body. Polly looked behind herself to see what had made you stop, and marveled at how you had even caught it, “How did you even see that?”

“I suppose I’m just good at looking for his things.”

Polly smiled softly, a familiar ache in her chest reappearing. “Well make sure you don’t drop it hmm? I’m sure he’ll want it back.”

You nod, immediately slipping it onto your left ring finger. You knew innately it wouldn’t budge. It was a perfect fit.

The Shelby family had a trusted physician who routinely dealt with these sort of things. Stand. Cuts. Gunshots. The occasional childhood scrape or concussion when the children needed a good scolding and scare to not be stupid. Dr. Hendricks had been the Shelby physician for many many years. So when he was called for ‘a slight emergency’ he knew that he needed to make immediate preparations.

The Shelby boys and Ollie bashed in the ornate door of Dr. Hendricks’ door, and were immediately met with Mrs. Hendricks pushing the men into the dining room. Already prepped and cold with sterile air Dr. Hendricks directed further with a low and booming voice, “Right here Mr. Shelby, hurry, can’t risk anymore blood loss.”

Alfie was pale, but was still breathing and choking out small groans. Mrs. Hendricks worked diligently alongside the Doctor, who asked questions and made conversation with the men, trying to bring down the tension. “Mr. Solomons boys? Why the sudden fit of charity.”

Mrs. Hendricks hushed him and his sore mouth. But his cheek was what made him so beloved by the Shelbys. Even in what seemed like dire moments, the good Doctor was never one to shy away from a joke or jab. Suddenly Alfie groaned under the crowd. Tommy looked down, shocked Alfie was awake now. Alfie, through the pain and blood, groaned and moaned your name through his teeth. Tommy grabbed Alfie’s arm, “Alright Alfie alright. She’s coming. Took a little bit of a hit didn’t ya old man? You stay awake now for her yeah? Can’t let the girl see ya like this.”

The pain was a hell of a drug, and Alfie could only slur out, “She ok? That little viper make it out ok?”

Tommy could only smile. Even with all the blood loss he was still himself. “Yeah Alfie. Yeah she’s alright. A right harpy screaming out for ya. Now you gotta get fixed up for when she comes back alright?”

Alfie nodded, slipping in and out as the final fragments were being removed, “As soon as im stitched up… I’m killing every Sabini I see. Then I’m fuckin marrying her… you hear me?”

Tommy smiled as Dr. Hendricks scoffed, “I hear you Alfie. I know you will.”

Alfie passed back out on the table. Dr. Hendricks nodded at Tommy and Ollie, “He’ll be alright. Nearly hit some vital organs but it’s alright. Have a nasty scar though, I’m sure he won’t mind. He’ll probably sleep for the rest of the night and into the morning. You all stay here, let’s keep an eye on him yeah? Mrs. Hendricks? Would you call the kitchen to make some supper for the gentlemen here and ladies to come?”

Mrs. Hendricks and the kitchen must have indeed been witches in a past life, or in the present. because there was no logical reason that such a warm and delectable feast could have been prepared so quickly. Soup and bread and cold chicken brought up with strong tea and coffee. When John Shelby asked for gin, his head was swiftly smacked by the effervescent Mrs. Hendricks, who quickly reminded him that she knew where all his sore spots were.

Polly and you arrived soon enough, and were embraced by the Doctor and his wife. The Shelby men stood up quickly, nodding to you in respect. Ollie shucked off his coat to drape over you. It was warm in the house. But your shivering wasn’t for cold.

Before you could look to Dr. Hendricks, he gruffed out from behind his thick salt and pepper beard, “No need to fret Miss. He was a model surgical patient. Nearly slept through the entire thing. In fact that stomach of his is a model for good stitchin’ would you like to see?”

Before Dr. Hendricks could pull back the clean and crisp cotton laid over Alfie’s bare torso to show you his no doubt fantastic work, Mrs. Hendricks stopped with a cherub like hand on his thick arm, “My dear, I don’t think the lady would feel keen on seeing her darling cut and stitched. Maybe some other time yes? Why don’t we let her have time alone with Mr. Solomons? It’s late. I think we should all retire yes?”

With a look around the room everyone nodded, giving their best to you and expressing incredible thank to the Doctor and Mrs. Hendricks. The Shelby boys tipped their hats to you as they filed out. Ollie nodded to you, assuring you that he’d alert your family of your whereabouts. Polly gave you a motherly hug, kissing the tip of your head, “Chin up dear. Must be strong when he wakes up. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

As soon as you came in, you were left alone. With the soft voice of Mrs. Hendricks pulling out of your numb trance. “Let’s get you cleaned up dear. Get you in something a little more comfortable. My daughter was about your size, and I have some of her clothes in her old room.”

Like a child who just woke out of a long slumber, you were lead down the short hallways littered with photos and paintings and certificates to the now guest room of the Hendricks home. Once she realized you had gone nearly despondent, Mrs. Hendricks helped you out of your stained dress, and into a soft cream colored night gown, with pink ribbon threaded through the top. She called one of the maids bring up hot water to wash the makeup, dirt, and dried crusted blood off your face and arms. Your dress was taken to be washed, and Mrs. Hendricks un-pinned your hair, getting it loose and out of your face. She sat you back in the make shift hospital room once she assured your were comfortable and clean. She poured tea for you. Something strong. Something hot. Your thumb rubbed across the delicate ridges on the cup, incredibly interested in the greenery hand painted on the china. Unable to face the near stillness of Alfie on a table.

“You love him don’t you?”

You feel those tears welling up in your eyes. Unable to speak any louder than a whisper, you confess, “Very much.”

She smiled softly, placing her thick soft hands on your knee, “He called for you.”

You looked up, “Did he?”

A soft chuckle left her, and she sounded so much like your mother, “He did. That’s the thing about these military gangster men yeah? Big and strong and tough. Till they get hurt. Then they cry for their women. I think we are the only things that help.”

You nodded, a pained smile sneaking on your lips, hands gingerly slipping into his rough hands. So much gentler now in sleep. Your eyes never leave his hands as you ask, “How do you stand it? How does any woman stand it?”

Mrs. Hendricks just sighs. Remembering the old days with her dear husband James. Back when he running with the Lee boys. When the medical practice wasn’t just a medical practice. There was a reason he was so good at stitching people up. Mrs. Hendricks leaned back in the chair, “By trusting them. By scolding them. Telling them off when they’re being outrageous. By standing by them. Because we know even a little bit of time with them is better than a life without them.”

Mrs. Hendricks then stands up, “It’s nearly 2 sweetie. Why don’t you take Jeanine’s old room? He’ll be there when you wake up.”

You shake your head vehemently, “No. Thank you Mrs. Hendricks. Thank you very much for your hospitality. But I want to be here when he wakes. I just… I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

She softly smiles, a tear slipping by, “Alright sweetie. That’s fine. I’ll bring you a couple blankets then. And a pillow just in case. Feel free to walk around the house if you need. Kitchen is all yours.”

You’re not sure how long you stayed awake after the gifts of the blankets were delivered. But you never laid down. You sat on one of the chairs placed on the dining room table where Alfie laid. You brushed the hair out of his face and ran your fingers over his beard and scars. You rattled off the notes you had for the gaming club. You whispered to him about the set up, the prices, and how he should really be more affable with the customers. But mostly you whispered how much you loved him. How much you wished you had told him sooner. How much he scared you doing that. You chastised him for putting himself in such grave danger. And for every insult and admonishment you kissed a knuckle and scar. Every kiss an oath that you would not leave him. Not willingly. Not before death.

It was mid morning when Alfie’s gruff voice woke you, “Well ain’t you a picture.”

You gasped and sat up straight, hand clutching Alfie’s warm hand. His hand squeezed back tiredly, “Now I know I’m damned… but this sure don’t look like hell… too nice ain’t it. And I know the devil wouldn’t let an angel like you in hell with me.”

“Oh shut up you wretched old man please.”

You crashed your lips into his, relishing even in his slightly chapped lips as he chuckled into you. You feel him move under you, “Now now sweetheart easy on the old man. Don’t go popping my stitches now. Oh treacle why are you crying my dove? I’m here ain’t I? Old Alfie’s alright.”

You couldn’t help the tears falling, “I… Alfie I… you nearly died.”

He sneered, “Nah. The bastard barely nicked me. What about you eh? No bumps or bruises on you?”

You shook your head and sniffled. You knew you looked pathetic but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when Alfie was alive. Not when you got to see him in the morning light like this. Alfie groaned as he pushed himself off the table. You moved to help him as he motioned you to settle. He got up, limped to another chair to sit down. The stitches held and he looked good. Still a bit pale but good. “Do you need water Alfie? Tea? I can call for breakfast.”

He shook his head, “No not yet love thank you… but come here.”

The wood floors were cold on your bare feet as you softly walked over to him. He stared up at you, as he tugged on your nightgown, signaling you to sit. Carefully… oh so carefully you sat on his lap, legs swinging over the side, wrapping your arms around his neck. Alfie leaned back with a sigh, bringing you closer, “This is all I need treacle. Just need you near.”

Stroking the scar on his jaw you whispered, “I was so scared Alfie… I thought we’d lost you.”

With half lidded eyes Alfie stared at you. Your sweet lips and teary eyes. A picture of beauty and serenity. The rough callouses on his hands caressed up and down your bare arms, “You’re never going to lose me dearie. I’ll always be here. No matter what. You know why?”

The way his eyes become like fire makes your heart beat faster, “Why?”

He brings your hand to his heart. His own hand dwarfing yours as you feel the strong and steady heartbeat in his chest, “Because this sweetheart… this belongs to you… No matter what happens… in this life the next one and every other fuckin one… I belong to you. You ain’t ever got to worry about what might happen because I’m with you. You got it?”

You smile, nodding, feeling as though your heart is going to burst, “My heart belongs to you Alfie.”

“You don’t have to say it back treacle.”

“I do if it’s the truth.”

A blush rose in his cheeks, barely concealed by his beard and the smile that broke out on his face. “Well… treacle… if that’s the case… I wanted to ask you in a more romantic way…”

“Alfred Solomons…”

“But this seems like a good time…”

“I swear if you dare ask me…”

“And we never know what’s to happen next…”

“Alfred Solomons I am in a night gown!”

“Woman if you do not be quiet I am trying to ask you to be my wife!!”

Your hand flies to your mouth in utter shock. Alfie’s brows are furrowed but he’s trying to keep the smile off his face, “Marry me sweetheart. Be my wife please. I can’t promise that I’ll suddenly be a tame boy but I can promise you that I love you more than any other man ever could love a woman. You can scold me all you want and I’ll never be cross with you.”

He watches you bite your lip and think, and he thinks he’s died and gone to heaven for real this time. You cheekily smile, “I do like it when you’re cross though.”

A dark glint flashes in his eyes as he pulls you in for a bruising kiss, which you all too willingly return. When you come up for air he asks you again, “Is that a yes? You going to be my wife?”

You laugh, “Yes Alfie. Always yes.”

Laughs escaped out of you in a stampede as he presses a million prickly kisses to your cheeks. He mumbles out onto your face, "I need to get you a ring. We'll go to the shop yeah? You pick out any ring you like, I'll resize whatever I need to. Fuck we'll design it for ya yeah?"

You push him back from his assault on your face and hold up your left hand, The one holding his signet, "One could say I have one already. You dropped it on the way over."

Alfie grabbed your wrist to inspect your hand. When he finally recognized the ring and noticed his own was missing, his laughter roared out, "Fuck me you are always so prepared. Always two steps ahead of me ain't ya? Well alright treacle. There's your engagement ring for now. But on our wedding day, I'm giving you a dazzling rock you hear me?"

You laugh again as he rants and raves for his idea of a ring for you. Knowing inside that it didn't matter what he gave you. If he gave you a ring at all. All that mattered was that he was here. He was yours. And you are is.

6 Months Later

The slow sea air dances in through the open window, sending the gossamer curtains floating around you. The radio scratches out something slow and tantalizing from America, the notes sending shivers down your spine. You're dizzy from the night you've had. The butterflies and bubbly drinks and spinning along the floor. You can't believe it happened. You can't believe your wedding day arrived. You feel as though you're amongst the clouds. The only thing keeping you anchored to the Earth is Alfie's grip on your white satin slip as you sway against him to the music.

Late at night. Early morning. Too much work to tell. But it was the first time in a week that you've been able to be alone with Alfie. Your husband.

"What're you thinking about my love?"

You press your face against his chest, shirt long discarded, "I'm just so happy. I didn't think I'd have this. That we'd have this.'

He hums as he presses his lips to your hair, smelling the perfume that had been brushed through your hair. "But we have it now. This is the greatest gift I've ever received. This is the life I've always dreamed of sweet."

You continue to dance with your husband until your bodies couldn't take it anymore. Soon enough he carried you to bed, quickly drifting off into deep sleep in Alfie's arms. In the morning you would wake not as a secretary. Not as a scared girl. Not as someone who felt as she didn't belong. But as Alfie's wife. Alfie's partner. A confidant. A capable woman running a business alongside her best friend. Tomorrow you would wake up excited for this next part of your life. Waking up to a new beginning.

Tag List:

@jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum @cookiez56-blog , @teapartydreams , @sciencewithottsnpotts , @6asm0ne , @purrrrfect, @bluejellyfiish @jassiefayee , @galactict3a , @il0vebeingdelulu @enretrogue @j23r23 @mulletmcghee @afuckingdisasterreally @graceisinloveagain

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons fanfic #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders #tom hardy #Interviews for New Beginnings

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onyourowndaisymae · 9 months

Text

an unexpected guest

was talking with a friend about how stressful the early days of living in the hol would be and then i talked about stealing solomon's bed from him and this fic sprung forth from those shenanigans. i just have so much love for the purgatory hall cast

content + warnings: fluff, solomon & reader very early into the exchange program, og timeline, just musing about purgatory hall being a safe space amidst the chaos of the devildom

solomon's tired. truthfully, there's not often he's not tired-- he's just learned to disregard his body's needs when they inconvenience him, only circling back to address they when he has the time or energy. tonight was one of those blessed nights. he'd finished up a new spell after several grueling hours of trial and error. his ancient human joints were creaking like an old house, all weathered and worn from years of neglect.

he crept quietly up the stairs of purgatory hall, drifting through the dorm with light footsteps. everything looked different in the dark. the hardwood floors where warm beams of candlelight illuminated each panel were now bathed in the delicate glow of moonlight. his relationship with the concept of "home" had always been shaky, but this was not. purgatory hall is solid. it is home. the floorboards and the walls are real, tangible, swirling together with pleasant memories of friendships and laughter like colors on an oil spill. this is the best place he's ever been lucky enough to call his own.

the door to his bedroom creaks a little as he opens it, and the lights flicker on with the flip of the switch. the golden tassels on his cloak clink together pleasantly as he strips it off. solomon tosses the garment on a nearby chair when he hears breathing. he tenses. his eyes dart around the room cautiously before he spots the intruder: there's an unidentified lump under his blankets. he steps closer and peers at their face. then he laughs.

it's you. you, the other human exchange student, fast asleep in his bed. you look completely worn-- solomon remembers you had come to purgatory hall per luke's request earlier today. maybe he... yeah, he was right. he finally takes a moment to check his d.d.d. and spots a text from simeon explaining the situation. nighttime fell quicker than anyone expected, and the two angels in the house didn't feel quite comfortable sending you home at such a dangerous hour. since solomon was usually locked in his workroom until dawn, the angel explained that he loaned out his room-- with an apology for imposing, of course. solomon chuckled a little to himself, taking the quiet moment to observe you while you're blissfully unaware.

you got the short end of the stick with the exchange program. that, he knows. the house of lamentation is full of six rowdy demons that all currently look at you like prey, with varying feelings of disinterest to scorn. solomon himself has centuries of experience with the devilish beings, but you're new to all this, aren't you? angels are much less intimidating to a newcomer like you. luke's nothing more than a young angel barking at the heels of his superiors-- said affectionately, of course. and simeon is one of the kinder angels to ever walk any of the three realms, greeting others with the true grace of a divine creature. of course he'd let you stay the night to ensure you don't get gobbled up on the street.

something about that makes him feel... strange. in a good way. to think that you're capable of falling asleep in a stranger's bed so easily, that you're willingly seeking more time at purgatory hall... he'll have to think on what these feelings are.

he fixes the blanket around you and stares for a moment longer. you look comfortable. what a thing to be so at peace in such a hellish place.

purgatory hall can be safe for you. it can be the place where you go when you need a somewhere to land. something about the image of you fleeing the house of lamentation for greener pastures makes him smile-- in a smug, not-so-kind sort of way. serves them right for shoving you, poor defenseless you, into their home with no regard for your wellbeing.

maybe solomon can be a safe haven for you, too. after all, you both are humans-- and humans have to stick together, right?

with the flick of his wrist, all of the lights in the room sudden turn off save for one special candle on his desk. the flame is almost identical to the ones found in the human word, with its mostly even pillar and its warm orange flame. but magic oozes from its melted wax. it's a flame that never spreads, leaving you to enjoy the comforts of solomon's room without worrying. just a little sign that even when he's not there, a certain sorcerer is always looking out for you. he closes the door with a gentle click and heads to spend the rest of the night somewhere else.

#i can't be normal about him #i have so many thoughts in my brain #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me solomon #otome

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yoonlattesworld · 1 year

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having a bad anxiety attack while yoongi holds you

Safe in his arms-MYG

Synopsis: when the only place which feels safe is in his arms.

Genre/warning: angst, anxiety attack, crying, fluff,comfort.

Yoongi masterlist

Author's pov

"Y/n?" Yoongi called out as soon as he opened the front door, but a frown settled on his lips when he was met with complete silence. This was odd. You usually run up to him with a bright smile whenever he comes home. What was more odd is that you didn't pick up any of his calls today. You never do that. If you miss a call you'll call back immediately but he lost count of how many times he called you today. And that was the reason he came home early.

"Y/n, baby where are you?" He said a little louder as he walked in the living room but an uneasiness started settling inside him when he didn't heard your voice again. Running a hand through his already tousled hair he walked up the stairs, his eyebrows furrowing when he heard the water running. His lips parted and he sighed, thinking you must be taking a bath. That's must be why you didn't heard him coming. Smiling slightly he opened your shared bedroom's door "you weren't picking up my calls so i came home early today-" his words died in his throat and he felt his heart stop for a moment when instead of finding you in the bathtub like he expected, he found you on the floor, leaned against the bed, the sound of your sobs sending him in a Frenzy as he rushed towards you, wasting no time in cradling your shaking form "fuck okay baby I'm here. Try to take a deep breath for me please?" He begged cupping your face to make you look at him.

But your eyes were unfocused as you clawed your chest, struggling to breath with tears running down your face. "No no no" he mumbled when he saw your eyes closing. The last thing he wanted was you passing out on him.Taking your hand he placed it on his chest, sighing shakily when you gripped his hoodie, just over his pounding heart "yeah baby, can you feel my heart?" He tapped your cheek, his heart clenching when a broken whimper left your lips "y-yoongi-" you gasped, letting out a choked up sob as you leaned against him "yes baby I'm here. Look at me doll" he whispered leaving you for a second to fumble in your bag laying beside you, sighing in relief when the perfume bottle came in his hand. He sprayed a little on his hoodie and his wrists, before cupping your face again "can you smell it baby? Take deep breaths for me love" he whispered watching with a pounding heart as you inhaled the soft smell of lavender shakily "that's it, angel. You're doing great" he mumbled rubbing your flushed cheek "can you look at me doll?" He murmured smiling softly when you looked at him with more focused eyes. But you were still shaking so he pulled you closer and rubbed your back whispering "let's count to five and take a deep breath okay?" You nodded whimpering softly.

"1..2..3..4...5" he whispered along with you, taking deep breaths and finally you were able to calm down a little as you gripped his arm which was wrapped around you tightly, stuttering "i-i wanted to call y-you but m-my phone died" you whimpered burying your face in his chest, inhaling the lavender mixed with his natural scent. His arms around you tightened and he kissed your head mumbling "I'm here now baby. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here" you sighed shakily as he swayed your body. He sighed noticing your phone laying on the door besides the charging point. He has told you so many times to charge your phone before it dies but you never listened.

After a while as your shaking decreased, he picked you up and placed you on the bed "let's take a bath yeah? It'll help you calm down" you nodded as he took off his hoodie and made you wear it, before walking in the bathroom.

And seeing the scene in front of him he could easily guess what must have happened. The bottle of lavender oil was on the ground with most of the oil spilled on the floor as he turned off the tape. You must have saw the attack coming and went to draw a bath, hoping the lavender scent would help you calm down. But it was too late as the pain started increasing, and then you ran to call him but found your phone dead.

Fuck. He clenched his eyes as he felt tears prickling in them. You must have been so fucking scared. He sighed shakily and took some tissues to clean up the oil, before dropping a few drops in the bathtub which was overflowing with water. He will have a telephone situated in both the bedroom and living room. Hell he'll have it in even fucking room if he has to. So atleast the next time something like this happens, you can call him even if your phone dies. He wiped his face to get rid of any tears so you wouldn't worry.

Taking off his shirt he walked in the room to see your small form buried in his hoodie as your teary eyes stared in his own. Kissing your forehead he picked you up, nuzzling his nose against your hair as you buried your face in his bare chest.

After undressing you, he sat in the bathtub with you on his lap, curled up in his arms and he whispered "do you feel better?" You nodded, too tired to move and snuggled in his chest. "Can you tell me what caused it, baby?" He mumbled carefully watching your reaction as you looked down and sighed "i-it was because of my finals and i was really tired too and.." he nodded waiting patiently "i was scared to think how will i live alone for 2 years after you leave" you whispered closing your eyes as he tensed up. Neither of you said anything after that.

You ended up falling asleep in his arms. The exhaustion of the past week falling on you altogether causing you to pass out in the bathtub. And after awhile of holding you in the warm water, he stood up with you in his arms, carefully so he wouldn't wake you up.

Making you wear his hoodie he wore some sweatpants and cradled you in the bed, holding you securely as you slept peacefully. Whispering a small "thank you yoon..." in your sleep, hugging him closer as he squeezed you.

He was scared too. So fucking scared.

Taglist open ♡

@bunnyrhe @rosquilleta @raineandskye @shymagda-7 @creatorspalace @yoonaasa @iheartsvt @xmochiloverx @kyojuro-ska @meow-min @kissme-ornot @wobblewobble822 @kookieaddicted96

#bts #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #yoongi x reader fluff #yoongi x reader one shot #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader angst #min yoongi angst #yoongi angst #min yoongi scenario #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader smut #yoongi scenarios #bts angst

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azrielslostshadow · 2 years

Text

I see you

AZRIEL x DAY COURT READER

Word Count: 1252

Warnings: Slight mention of food (mostly coffee). Mentions getting yelled at (very briefly).

---------------------------------

You once swore up and down to Rhysand that you loved Velaris. You had promised him and the rest of his Inner Circle that the Night Court and its mountains reminded you so much of your home in the Dawn Court. You told them that you loved the people of Velaris. The fairies in the city often reminded you of the people who you grew up with.

However, you were not feeling that love right this moment.

Your day literally sucked massive balls. First, the coffee shop had been out of your favorite drink. Then, upon entering the archives the intern bumped into you and spilled coffee all over you. You couldn’t find the documents you needed for your research. You lost your favorite pen. The intern ate your fucking lunch. Some fae male visiting from the Spring Court tried to explain to you how your job as a historian worked. The paperwork for a future expedition got mixed up with the paperwork for a past expedition. The intern broke the frame for a painting the Helion had loaned the night court.

Then on your way home, tired and frustrated and entirely ready for bed, some male had yelled at you after mixing you up with another faerie who stole from him. And if that wasn’t enough, not only had you forgotten to shut the windows to your apartment and allowed the winter snow to make its way into your living room, your boyfriend was nowhere to be found.

-------------------

After cleaning up the snow and shutting your windows, you made your way to your bathroom. You filled the tub with the hottest water possible, added soaking salts and oils, lit a couple of candles, and began playing relaxing music. Stripping yourself of your clothes, you made your way to your tub in hopes of forgetting the shit day you had and closed your eyes.

-------------------

“My love.” A voice whispered to you.

“Mhmm?”

“Angel.”

“Mhmm?”

“Angel, you have to wake up,” Azriel whispered to you once again, a hint of laughter light in his voice.

“No.”

Azriel chuckled, quiet and reserved and entirely like himself, at you and your tired state. “Rough day?”

“The worst.”

“Oh?” You could feel him smiling at you.

“Mhm.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment. The music was still playing in the background. It was quiet and peaceful and felt like home. Azriel felt like home as he squatted by the tub and let his arms sit on the edge of either side of you, his head slightly leaning against yours.

“You?”

“Mhmm?”

“How was your day, Azriel?”

“My day?”

“Your day.”

Azriel said nothing for a moment. Then, “Just another day at the office.”

You laughed, “Another day at the office?” Azriel's job was unlike any other. A ‘day at the office’ involved things some would rather not know about. The shadowsinger’s work was demanding, both emotionally and physically. Some nights Azriel would come home to you, unable to speak of the things he had done or seen.

“Yeah. Another day at the office.”

“You sound tired.”

“You sound worse.”

“Oh?” You smiled up at him, eyes closed enjoying the moment.

“Oh.”

Times like these with Azriel were rare. The High Lord demanded a lot from the Illyrian warrior. His time, his mind, his patience, his heart. And Azriel was always ready to give more if need be.

Your work was demanding as well. You often spent extra hours in the archives doing additional research to prove yourself to your peers, afraid of falling behind or disappointing Thesan, your High Lord and brother.

“You should probably get out of the water before you catch a cold, don’t you think so Angel?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I’m tired Az.”

Azriel pressed his lips to your temple, “I know.”

“You know?”

“I know.”

Finally, you opened your eyes to look at him, at your love. His hair was slightly longer than usual and windswept. Clearly, he had flown here, when normally he would have walked. His eyes were bright, happy, and relaxed. A smile graced his lips, rare to others, but a normal sight to you. Nonetheless, Azriel’s smile was your favorite. It melted away your worries.

You found yourself more relaxed, here looking at Azriel, than during your entire bath.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” you spoke softly, “help me out?”

Helping you out of the tub, he wrapped you in a towel before leaning down to open the drain in the tub. The Shadowsinger led you to your bedroom, where he helped you into your pajamas. It was then that you realized he had already changed out of his leathers.

He sat you on your bed, “wait here.”

Disappearing into the bathroom for a moment, you could briefly hear Azriel blowing out the candles you lit earlier, before rummaging in the drawers and returning to you, a hairbrush in hand.

You cocked an eyebrow at the male.

“What? You get mad when you wake up after forgetting to brush your hair.” He told you as he sat behind you.

“I can do it you know?”

“I know.”

“Mhm?”

Azriel kissed the back of your head, “I want to do this for you. Please?”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

Only then did he begin brushing your hair. Starting at the bottom of one section and slowly making his way higher. You knew that Azriel watched you, he watched all the people he loved, but you hadn’t realized how closely he watched you, even doing the most mundane of things until you felt him brush your hair in the exact way that you normally did on your own. It made you feel more loved than anything else he had done for you at this point.

“Is it an oiling day?”

You couldn’t help the smile that escaped you, “oiling day?”

“Yeah, you know when you put all those oils in your hair? The one’s in the pink and grey bottles that make your hair smell nice?” Azriel noticed you. He noticed every part of you, from the way you stood when you were angry to the way you took care of your hair. Your position as the younger sister of a future high lord had made you invisible. Optional. A spare in every sense. But Azriel, the feared shadowsinger saw you. He saw you for all the pieces of yourself you didn’t love, and all the pieces you did, and he loved each part of you individually, equally, and with grace.

“No. I don’t need to oil my hair today.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

“I should oil it the day after tomorrow though.”

“Do you mind if I do it for you?”

“You?”

“Yeah. Me.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” Azriel was done with your hair. He dropped the brush on the table next to him before pulling you onto his lap so that he could hold you as tightly as possible, “But I want to. For you.”

When you looked up into Azriel’s eyes, you could have sworn you saw the entire universe in them. He stared down at you, bright and excited and entirely hopeful. In this moment, alone with you in your bed, he was not the Shadowsinger or the Night Court’s Spymaster. He was simply Azriel. Kind, and good, and loving, and sweet, and yours. Azriel, who saw you, who trusted you, who knows your hair care routine. Azriel who loves you for no reason other than to love you.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, you can oil my hair.”

#azriel fluff #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger #acotar #acotar imagine #acotar smut #acotar fluff #acomaf #night court #acowar #acosf #azriel x reader

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julnites · 7 months

Text

⚫ an oil spill angel and her acolyte

#james art times #artists on tumblr #character illustration #original art #illustration #fantasy art #love me some toxic sapphics

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chestcongestion · 9 days

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Practical Ill Effects: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Finally finished! The "faking someone else's sickness" trope with Al/ast/or. Fic is under the cut as always, I had a lot of fun working with this and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! ^^

Word count: 6.5K

Content warnings: Manipulation/ Gaslighting, Drugging, Food tampering (This whole fic is basically "Al/ast/or gets gaslit for 6 thousand words")

“This blows,” Angel scoffed, sitting on top of a dumpster in an alley that was a brisk walk away from the hotel. Husk was sitting on the dumpster to his right, and Niffty was running around in circles, stepping on ants with her tiny feet.

“You’re tellin’ me,” Husk said, taking a swig of whiskey from his flask before slipping it back into his pocket.

The trio of demons were gathered in the alley for a meeting of minds of sorts. In two days, Charlie and Vaggie would be leaving with Lucifer on a trip to the Wrath Ring, and while they were gone, the rest of the group would be heading to LuLu World as a reward for their incredible progress.

However, Vaggie was skeptical about the group behaving themselves in public without a ‘sane, responsible adult present’, and elected to- ironically- put Alastor in charge of chaperoning them for the trip, something the Radio Demon took glee in accepting.

“How he is the responsible one out of the four of us, I have no fuckin’ idea,” Husk grumbled, folding his arms.

“Maybe it’s just ‘cause he’s the oldest,” Niffty offered.

“We’re all basically the same age, that’s bullshit,” Angel replied, massaging his temples, “How’re we gonna ditch ‘im?”

“Ooo! We could hit him in the head with something heavy! Like a piano!” Niffty proposed, jittering in place at the idea.

“This ain’t a cartoon, Niff, we’re not droppin’ a piano on his head,” Angel argued, “I don’t think he’ll let us get close enough to ‘im to do somethin’ like that anyways.”

Husk leaned back against the brick wall behind the dumpster, a mischievous grin spreading onto his feline face, “Charlie’d probably force him to stay behind and let us go on our own if he was sick,” he said.

“But he ain’t,” Angel replied.

“Who says Charlie has to know that?” Husk said, his smile widening as he hopped off of the dumpster, dusting off the seat of his pants.

“But he’d just tell ‘er he’s fine,” Angel said, still sounding skeptical.

“He’d do that anyways, he’d insist that he’s fine even if you were wavin’ positive test results in his face… if anything, that’ll help,” Husk explained, cracking his knuckles, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

“Alright, spill, I’m all ears,” Angel said, kicking his feet as Husk paced back and forth between the dumpsters.

“I know that fucker’s allergic to oak moss… he used to force me to shower every time I tried to wear cologne,” Husk grumbled, “If all three of us wore it… just a little, it’d be enough to set him off without anybody noticing.”

“O ooo, that’s so bad, I love it,” Angel said, sighing wistfully as he hopped down from his dumpster perch, stretching out his back.

“That ain’t the entire plan, but it is the first step, I’m gonna have to explain it quick, that motherfucker’s always eavesdropping,” Husk explained.

After a brief huddle, the triad of demons went back into the hotel through the rear entrance, disappearing into separate rooms for about an hour.

Later on that evening, Alastor was sitting in his armchair in the parlor and reading a book, when Husk wandered downstairs, taking his station at the bar and taking inventory of the bottles, gently ruffling his wings.

Alastor sniffled quietly, swiping a finger under his nostrils before returning to his book.

“Feet up, Alastor! I need to get a stain out of the carpet!” Niffty requested, ducking underneath Alastor’s feet and scrubbing away at the rug with a washcloth, the smear of oak moss perfume oil that Husk placed on the back of her neck wafting up towards Alastor.

Alastor sniffled a bit harder, his sinuses and the back of his throat beginning to itch, “Hmm,” he hummed to himself, getting up from his chair and swallowing experimentally, feeling a scratchiness in the back of his throat.

“Heya Alastor, Fat Nuggets stole one ‘o your slippers earlier, wanted to let ya’ know I put it back,” Angel said, gently pushing up his chest fluff, pretending to glance at Alastor’s hair, “I’ve been meanin’ to ask… was this your natural color back when you were alive?”

While looking, Angel gently reached around and smeared a bit of oak moss perfume residue on the back of Alastor’s neck, pretending to reach out and touch his red locks.

Alastor sniffled, nudging Angel away with his microphone and struggling to keep his hands away from his twitching nose, “Hh… H-hihh… No, no it wasn’t, my hair was dark brown, thank you… hHih!” he replied, covering his nose and mouth with one hand when the oak moss fumes from the oil on his neck made his nose start to run, a speedy trickle threatening to run all the way down to his chin.

“You alright, Smiles?” Angel asked, fluffing out his hair and watching as another mist of allergenic droplets wafted into Alastor’s face.

“Y-Yihh… Ehh… Hh!!” Alastor paused, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping off his drippy nostrils before accidentally letting out a heavy, congested sniffle, “SDdfFF! SnFF-SnrRK!”

A silence fell over the room, and Alastor wanted to disappear under the floorboards. What was happening to him? He couldn’t smell anything suspicious before and with the sudden rush of congestion, he certainly wouldn’t be able to for the foreseeable future.

“You didn’t hear that,” Alastor threatened, feeling another bloom of histamine tickling his nose, “SnFF-SnFF! Hehh… Ehh…H-hehh!” Alastor fanned a hand in front of his face, the overwhelming urge to sneeze building to a crescendo so quickly that he didn’t have time to teleport someplace to hide- as a matter of fact, the urge was so great he ended up dropping his microphone to free up both hands.

Angel opened his mouth to make a sly remark, only to be interrupted by a harsh feedback sound as Alastor was thrown into a sneezing fit.

“H-hehh’KZzhht! He-eh’KTxhhiew! Eh’KzZHht! Hnk’Kxhht-sShew!” Alastor sneezed, straightening his posture and wiping hopelessly at his streaming nose, “Sdfff…SnFF!”

“Gesundheit,” Husk said casually, holding in his laughter as he centered his focus on cleaning beer mugs, “Never heard you let loose like that around so many people.”

“Awww, maybe he’s warmin’ up to us, in’t that sweet?” Angel crooned, sneakily reaching out and tracing a heart on Alastor’s chest with his oil-contaminated hand before Alastor slapped it away.

“Oh hush, I simply didn’t have the time to use any discre-ehh… E-Eh’KXHHT-sShhiew!” Alastor replied, punctuating his sentence with a particularly wet, heavy sneeze, right when Charlie wandered into the room.

“Bingo,” Husk whispered to himself, knowing that Alastor’s ears were just stuffy enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear it.

“Oh, Bless you, Alastor!” Charlie exclaimed, “I heard someone sneeze a couple minutes ago, I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Thank you- SnFF!- pardon me, I’m not sure what came over me to cause that… outburst,” Alastor replied, turning away from Charlie to blow his nose, expecting to yield no results, only to wince at the gurgling rumble of congestion leaving his sinuses, his handkerchief growing damp before he pulled away, “Euch…”

Charlie remained silent for a moment, as though mentally shuffling through responses and making sure she didn’t pick one out that reflected her quiet disgust, “That was… a lot… are you feeling okay? Sounds like you might be getting a cold,” she probed, noticing the irritated skin on Alastor’s nose.

“Of course n’dot- SnFF!- of course not, I’m perfectly fine, there’s just… something in this room that appears to be irritating a sensitivity of mine,” Alastor replied, somehow giving off a perfect mixture of nonchalant and offended.

“You’re only set off by strong scents: lavender, teakwood, citronella, oak moss, the kinda shit you really only find in perfume and cologne,” Husk argued, fighting tooth and nail to hide his amused smile, “If somethin’ like that was in here, we’d all be able to smell it.”

“That’s true, I don’t smell anything out of the ordinary here,” Charlie observed.

“Hmph! Well thed… SnFF!” Alastor replied, an indignant scowl on his face as he scrubbed at his nostrils with the back of his hand, “I’m n’dot exactly sure what it could be.”

“Maybe you should head to bed early tonight! Extra rest always helps me when I’m fighting something,” Charlie offered, “Hopefully you can kick it before it settles.”

“Of course,” Alastor said with a sigh, “Thank you for the recommendation, Charlotte.”

“No problem!” Charlie replied, turning to leave the room when Alastor’s nose began to twitch again.

“h-HiIhh’Kxzzhhtt-SsCHEW! Ih’Kxhht-SscHiEW!” Alastor sneezed, gently rubbing his irritated nose.

“Bless you!” Charlie said before vanishing through the doorway.

“Th- Tha…ank- Hih’xXSschew! Hi-IH’KxXHHT!” Alastor replied, wrinkling his nose with a damp, heavy sniffle, rubbing at his watery eyes with the heel of his palm before vanishing into his own shadow.

“That was almost too easy,” Angel chuckled in a hushed voice.

“It only gets easier,” Husk snickered, pouring a glass of rye whiskey and stirring it with a contaminated claw before leaving it on the bar counter as bait.

“Alright, as fun as this is, I’m takin’ a shower, this stuff is so sticky it’s mattin’ my fur,” Angel scoffed, arching his back to stretch as he wandered up the stairs, Husk following after him.

Niffty, left to her own devices, skipped into the hotel’s basement to chase after families of cockroaches and centipedes with a broom, swatting at them even as the night stretched onward.

A few hours later, Husk and Angel were curled up in Angel’s bed- Angel scrolling listlessly through his phone while Husk kneaded at the mattress and sheets with his large paws- when they heard a sound coming from a few doors down.

Husk’s ear twitched, and his eyes widened as he attempted to focus on the sound, sitting up in bed and waiting in breathless silence.

“What’s up-” Angel began to ask, only for Husk to shush him, tilting his head to the side and twitching his left ear, “What is it?” Angel whispered.

The sound of wheezy, irritated, desperate coughing from the other room became audible, making Husk’s face melt into a smug smile, the ticklish coughs occasionally being muffled by bursts of static.

“He drank the whiskey,” Husk whispered, stretching out a bit further in bed and waiting patiently.

“khff…Khff-Khff…KHHFF!”

“Bullseye,” Husk yawned, gently pawing at the air in front of him before nuzzling against Angel’s fluffy torso and dozing off, with Angel following close behind.

Alastor, however, had managed to cough himself awake. He felt as though he was losing his mind- eyes watering, nose streaming, and his throat so unbearably itchy that it couldn’t be soothed even after inflating his bladder with glass after glass of water.

“Oh for- Khhff!- goodness sake- KHFF! Khff…khff!” Alastor muttered to himself, pacing in a tight circle and trying to muffle his ceaseless coughing behind both of his hands, his struggle stretching across the entire night until the tickle in his throat managed to fade around sunrise.

Leaning against the back of his armchair, Alastor attempted to straighten his posture and stand on his own two feet, finger-combing his hair and feeling around on his person for his handkerchief to blow his hopelessly stuffy nose.

“I have n’do clue what’s happend’ig… Snff!” Alastor said, pinching his handkerchief around his nostrils and letting out a heavy, wet blow, feeling his sinus cavity vibrate from the release, “hh…H-hihh… Hi-Ih’DddTsSchiEW! Hnk’tchhew!”

With his nose still buried in his handkerchief and exhaustion tugging at his heels, Alastor bit the bullet and wandered downstairs to start his day in earnest.

Upon arriving downstairs, Alastor grabbed his favorite mug and quietly filled it with water, taking slow sips in an attempt to drown the scratchy sensation in his throat and sinus cavity- to no avail- as people slowly entered the room after him.

“Good Morning, Alastor!” Charlie greeted with her usual bouncy and colorful demeanor, rocking back and forth on her heels, “Feeling any better?”

“Yes, a good night’s sleep was all I needed,” Alastor replied, looking away from Charlie to avoid dwelling on the exhaustion that was weighing him down, making his steps and movements seem much slower, much more deliberate.

Charlie shot a brief glance at the dark rings underneath Alastor’s eyes, “Are you sure you got any sleep? You were coughing a lot last night,” she probed.

Alastor felt a pit open up in his stomach, but maintained his nonchalant expression and scoffed, “Nonsense- snff!- I slept incredibly peacefully last night, you must have heard someone else.”

Charlie looked unconvinced, but turned to Husk and Angel with a shrug, “Was it you guys?” she asked.

Husk laughed, “Nope, those were too dry to be mine,” he said, letting out a sharp exhale that rattled his lungs, “Not after a life and afterlife of puffin’ on cigars.”

“They were too normal to be mine,” Angel said with a scoff, “Every time I start coughin’ it sounds like a seal fucked a chew toy.”

“Dad went out last night and didn’t come home until morning, and it was a male voice… so it had to be you, Alastor,” Charlie insisted, “Maybe you were just coughing in your sleep, so you didn’t notice.”

Alastor swallowed, silently cursing the stinging sensation that radiated through his raw throat, “I suppose so,” he said, relenting as his left ear twitched slightly, “Regardless, I’m still feeling much be-eehh… EH’KXxht-shhiew! Eh’KzZhht-Sshew!”

Husk snickered as he watched Alastor blearily wipe his nose, watery mess trickling into his handkerchief as friction from the fabric reddened his sensitive nostrils.

“Bless you, Alastor,” Charlie said, “It’s okay if you’re still feeling sick, you don’t have to hide it. As long as it doesn’t get any worse you’ll still be okay to go to Lulu World with everyone!”

“Mbarvelous- snff!” Alastor replied, blowing his nose into his handkerchief until the fabric was damp and the sensitive skin on his nose began to burn from the constant rubbing.

Charlie vanished upstairs, having a few more things to pack for her trip, leaving the scheming trio of sinners to enact the next phase of their plan.

Two hours after his conversation with Charlie, Alastor was relaxing in his armchair in the parlor, reading a book he’d been meaning to finish. Annoyingly, every few pages Alastor was forced to set the book down, using his finger as a bookmark, to scrub furiously at his nose with the heel of his palm in an attempt to quell the persistent itching, or to desperately cover a wet sneeze with the back of his wrist.

“E-ehh’Kxhht-chew! EH’Kxhht-Sshew!” Alastor sneezed, his stomach churning with disgust after he looked at the damp patch of fabric on his sleeve from soaking up about thirty sneezes’ worth of spray.

Suddenly, Alastor felt a tug on his pant leg, and he looked down through rheumy eyes to see Niffty, eagerly clutching a container of ice cream.

“Hello Ndiffty- snff!- pardon mbe… what can I do for you?” Alastor asked, quietly twirling a stray lock of Niffty’s hair around his finger.

“Nothing… I just wanted to see if you wanted this butter pecan ice cream, I found it while I was clearing out the freezer!” Niffty offered, handing Alastor the small pint of ice cream and a spoon.

Alastor licked his lips, butter pecan was a classic, and it was one of the only sugary things he considered an exception in his indifference towards sweets. Plus, the thought of smooth, cool ice cream cascading down his scratchy throat sounded heavenly.

After a reluctant glance away, Alastor dug into the ice cream, eating spoonful after spoonful with so much gusto that he didn’t notice that the ice cream container was not properly sealed.

“It’s delicious, thank you Niffty… He-EH’KXHHT-Chhew!... pardon mbe,” Alastor sighed, scraping the bottom of the ice cream container for one last spoonful before Niffty plucked the empty carton out of his hands.

After Niffty scurried away to continue cleaning, Alastor returned to his book, thumbing through the pages and pausing every so often to sneeze, until he felt a drowsiness come over him like a dreary fog. Alastor yawned, stretching out in his armchair and rubbing his eyes.

Three pages later, Alastor yawned again, suddenly fighting to keep his eyelids up as each blink seemed to drag on just a bit longer than the last.

“Ehh…Eh’kxhh-shhew! Hnk’tshew!”

Alastor rubbed at his raw nostrils with his cold, damp handkerchief, muttering drowsily at his waning energy seemingly affecting his sneezes.

Two more pages and another intense yawn later, and Alastor finally lost the battle against his own body, drooping his head to one side and falling fast asleep, still loosely clutching his book in one hand and snoring softly- the snores occasionally being interrupted by a congested sniffle.

Niffty smiled from her position on the other side of the room dusting the curtains, quickly racing upstairs before coming back down with Husk and Angel following behind her.

“Look, I did it! That was easy!” Niffty cheered, clapping for herself as her two friends stared in awe at the unconscious Radio Demon.

“How the hell’d you get him to sleep?” Angel asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I crushed up some of Husk’s gabapentin, some Hell-Dryl, and a couple of sleeping pills into a carton of ice cream! He ate the whole thing!” Niffty explained.

“You are one twisted little doll, y’know that?” Husk asked, ruffling Niffty’s hair, “He’d kill us if he knew we were doin’ this.”

“Welp, he don’t, so we’re fine,” Angel snickered, pulling out his plugged-in curling iron and holding the hot metal close to Alastor’s face until he could see a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and flush on Alastor’s cheeks to match his friction-reddened nose. Carefully, Angel moved the exposed metal over and brushed it against the insides of Alastor’s ears.

“I’ll be damned, if I didn’t know about this, I’d be convinced… he looks pathetic,” Husk said, watching Alastor’s chest rise and fall as he peacefully snored, “Hurry and go get ‘er before his ears cool down, I’ll hide the curling iron.”

“Got it,” Angel replied, handing Husk the iron before quietly practicing his lines to himself, putting on a skeptical but concerned face, and wandering hurriedly up the stairs, “Charlie?!” he called out, disappearing around a corner.

“He’s a damn good actor when he’s not readin’ someone else’s trash script, I’ll tell you that much,” Husk mumbled, stashing the curling iron behind the bar counter on a heat-safe cloth and pretending to look busy, grabbing a beer mug and polishing it with a rag right as Charlie followed Angel into the parlor from upstairs.

“Oh, Angel, you’re right, he looks awful,” Charlie crooned, pressing her hands against her cheeks in dismay, “And he’d never fall asleep just out in the open like this, either…”

Alastor, still unconscious, shuddered a bit due to a residual chill from demolishing the pint of ice cream so quickly.

“He’s shaking,” Charlie said, sympathy dripping from her every word as she carefully reached out and pressed her palm against Alastor’s artificially-warmed forehead, feeling the heat and sweat on his skin, “He feels warm, too.”

“Want me to go get the ear thermometer?” Angel offered, celebrating internally when Charlie shook her head.

“No, no need, we’re already pushing our luck as it is, Alastor hates being touched… he obviously has a fever, I don’t need to know the specifics until he wakes up,” Charlie said, “This is horrible, he was so excited to go to Lulu World with you guys.”

“It’s a damn shame,” Angel said solemnly, “We’ll bring back somethin’ for ‘im.”

“Awww, that’s sweet,” Charlie replied, smiling before turning her attention to Husk, “Do you think you can keep things in order while you guys are at the park? I don’t want you guys to miss out on your fun time just because Al has to stay home.”

“No worries Princess, I got it,” Husk said with a confident smile.

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver,” Charlie said with a sigh, looking at Alastor’s unconscious, snoring form and wincing with discomfort at the strange angle the Radio Demon was positioned in, “He’d be so much more comfortable in bed, but I don’t wanna wake him up.”

Husk quietly shook Alastor’s shoulder as an experiment to see how much movement he would tolerate before he woke up, looking pleasantly surprised when Alastor didn’t react- the cocktail of drugs he’d been given had lulled him into a comfortable and deep sleep.

“I think if I’m careful, I can just-” Husk scooped Alastor up into his arms, supporting his back with one hand and his knees with the other, “-there we go. I got ‘im from here, I’ve done this song and dance a couple times before when he was drunk.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Husk, that’s so nice!” Charlie replied, clasping her hands together as a warm smile spread across her face, “I have to finish packing, but I’ll come check on him later.”

Husk gave Charlie an understanding nod as she disappeared up the stairs. Once Charlie was gone, Husk carried Alastor upstairs and opened the door to his room one-handed.

Husk rummaged through Alastor’s clothes until he found a pair of linen pajamas, removing Alastor’s suit and slacks and changing him into the pajamas in about four minutes.

Once Alastor was dressed for bed, Husk sighed, peering into the dense brush of the wet Louisiana forest pocket dimension that occupied the other side of Alastor’s room. “Where the hell’d you move your bed to this time?” Husk inquired rhetorically, balancing Alastor’s sleeping form on his hip before venturing into the forest.

“Snff…Snff-snff!” Alastor’s pitiful sniffling could be heard from his position with his head resting against Husk’s shoulder.

Husk rolled his eyes, peering around bushes and behind trees until he found Alastor’s bed in a corner near a stream, hidden slightly by a curtain of hanging plants. Husk peeled back the duvet and sheets from their position neatly tucked underneath the pillows, gently laid Alastor down onto his mattress, and pulled the covers back up until they reached the Radio Demon’s shoulders.

“There we go,” Husk said with a triumphant smile, “Nighty night, sucker.”

Laughing at his victory, Husk wandered out of the dense forest, folding Alastor’s suit, vest, and slacks before placing the neatly folded clothes on a chair up against the wall, shutting off the lights, and closing the door behind him.

Alastor remained peacefully asleep, his congestion clearing up and his hopelessly itchy throat returning to normal as the allergens on his clothes were no longer present to irritate his system.

In the blissful darkness of Alastor’s room, his shadow slipped out from underneath his bed frame, a mischievous smile on its face as it pulled back the covers on Alastor’s bed and unbuttoned his pajama shirt.

A cool breeze swept through the humid air in the forest, sending a chill down Alastor’s spine as he slept. Shuddering, Alastor curled in on himself in an attempt to stay warm as the cool air hit the exposed skin on his chest and neck.

“Hnk’tchew! Hnk’tshiww!”

Alastor’s nose twitched, and he sleepily rubbed the back of his hand against it to ward off a building itch before falling back into his deep slumber as the chilled air continued to blow on his sweat-dampened skin.

Early the next morning, Alastor woke up to the sight of Charlie jostling his shoulders while standing at his bedside.

“Mm… what time is it? When did I get here?” Alastor asked with a scratchy yawn, rubbing his eyes.

“Husk brought you to bed yesterday after you dozed off downstairs,” Charlie explained, “They left for Lulu World already, but I didn’t want to leave for our trip until you woke up.”

“They left without mbe?!” Alastor asked, moving to get out of bed, only for Charlie to press a hand against his bare chest, gently pushing him back against his pillows.

“Yes, Husk promised he’d keep everything under control, but they left without you,” Charlie said, “I’m sorry, Alastor, I know it’s disappointing but you really shouldn’t be out and about while you’re this sick.”

“I explained this before, Charlie, I amb perfectly he-ehh…Eh’Kxhht-shhew! Eh’KzZht-chiew! EH’KXHHT-SHEW!” Alastor argued, pawing around on his bed for his handkerchief as his nose began to run, “snff!”

“Yeah, this is what ‘perfectly healthy’ sounds like,” Charlie scoffed, “I hate to break it to you Alastor, but you’ve been sniffling and sneezing for three days now-” cautiously, Charlie held the back of her hand up to Alastor’s forehead, “-and you have a fever. You’re sick, there’s nothing wrong with that, it happens to everyone.”

Alastor folded his arms, refusing to look Charlie in the eyes, “If you say so,” he muttered.

“Will you be okay by yourself? I can call Rosie and ask her to come over if you want, I just want to make sure you’ll be alright before we leave,” Charlie offered.

“I’ll be fide, thank you- snff! Snff!- pardon mbe,” Alastor said, grumbling as he pulled a handkerchief out of the ether, pinching the fabric around his nose and letting out a heavy, gurgling blow, “Uch…e-Eh’KZzhht-chew!”

“Alright, if you say so,” Charlie said in reply, stepping away from Alastor’s bed, “Call us if you need anything, okay?”

“Alright, have a ndice trip- snff!” Alastor said, blowing his nose again as Charlie and Vaggie left the hotel to meet Lucifer outside. Once they were gone, Alastor got out of bed, staggering a bit once he got to his feet. He felt strangely tired, almost weak.

“I know those scoundrels were up to sombething- snrkk!- I ab ndot sick,” Alastor grumbled to himself, only to pause when a sudden chill made him shiver, buttoning up his pajama shirt and tugging on his red dressing gown, sighing in relief at the comfortable warmth of the plush fabric.

“I should go to that park and give those three a piece of mby mbind,” Alastor said, balling his fists and pacing back and forth across his floor, “Eh’KzZhht-chhiew!”

Alastor’s ears twitched as he waned, rubbing at his eyes and deciding against going out, “I can always just-” he yawned, “-give themb a piece of mby mbind when they get back… snff!”

Alastor wandered downstairs into the kitchen, forgoing his usual mug of coffee for a cup of tea, deciding that the fragrant vapors and smoother texture would be more helpful against his hopelessly plugged sinuses and the throbbing sensation in the back of his throat.

‘I am not sick, everyone gets a little… irritated when they’ve just woken up, I’m fine’

Alastor picked up his mug of tea, only for his shadow to quietly slide the jar of honey over to him, gesturing towards it.

“I don’t wandt a’dy hondey- snff!- guhh…The tea is fide by itself,” Alastor argued, turning away to clear his throat.

Alastor’s shadow looked away, rolling its nonexistent eyes before wrapping its incorporeal fingers around Alastor’s neck, raising its eyebrows and gesturing back to the jar of honey.

“Mby throat isd’t sore- snff! Snrkk!- euch… hold od-” Alastor said, turning away to blow his nose with a heavy rumble of congestion that eventually devolved into a loud honk, “There, much better.”

Alastor’s shadow folded its arms, looking at him incredulously.

“It isn’t!” Alastor yelled, his voice straining until he coughed into his wrist, swallowing harshly and wincing at how dry and tender his throat felt. His shadow snickered at him, smirking.

Alastor relented, ceding a bit of ground, “I suppose- khff!- it is a bit scratchy,” he said, staring longingly at the jar of honey before grabbing the stirrer and drizzling about a tablespoon’s worth of honey into his tea.

Alastor sighed when his shadow began to snicker playfully again, staring at him with a knowing smile.

“This doesn’t mean anything- snff!- I am not sick, I’m not, I’m fine… E-Eh’Kxhht-ChHIEW! EH’KZzs-Sshew!” Alastor argued, running the back of his hand under his nostrils before he took a lengthy sip of his tea, relieved by the smooth sensation cascading down his raw throat, “Mmm…”

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so frazzled, it’s the cat’s pajamas, I’ve gotta say,”

Alastor blinked, looking around the room, “Who said that? Show yourself!” he demanded, setting down his cup and chewing on his tongue as sweat began to trickle down his forehead.

“Oh calm down, mes amis, you know me, I’m right here,”

Alastor looked ahead of him and saw his shadow, still technically attached to his heels, staring at him with a playful smirk.

“You can’t talk, don’t toy with me, who are you?” Alastor asked, jabbing at his shadow with his microphone, grumbling in frustration when his weapon of choice simply phased through the dark figure’s torso, “You… you can talk?”

“Of course I can,” the shadow replied, “I just save it for special occasions, like when you’re living in denial, trying to convince yourself that you can change reality if you ignore it hard enough.”

“What are you going on about?” Alastor asked, “snff-snff! SnFF!”

“Blow your nose already and stop sniffling!” the shadow said with a frustrated hiss, rolling its eyes when Alastor gave his nose another gurgling blow, wiping hopelessly at his nostrils and frowning at the irritated skin that moved down the bridge of his nose to the tip.

“Mby ndose is just itchyy-Ye-eh’Ksshhew! Eh’KzZshhew!” Alastor argued, blowing his nose again, “Eehh-EH’KzZSshew! Uch… I’b ndot sick, I dond’t care what you think- snff!- if you even have a braid to think with.”

The shadow scoffed, “Your nose is only itchy because it’s full of cold,” it said, poking the tip of Alastor’s nose, “Just like the rest of you.”

“Eh’KzZshew! E-ihh’KsShew!” Alastor sneezed, wiping at his nostrils with his soaked handkerchief, “Keep your hands off mbe!”

“Or what? You’ll sneeze on me? That ship’s sailed ages ago,” the shadow said, poking Alastor’s nose again.

“e-ehh…Eh…Eeh’KZzhht-CHEW! Eh’KzZsst-ChiEW! E-ehh’KsSshew!” Alastor sneezed, his sinuses irritated and tingly as a feathery tickle lingered in his nose after the third sneeze, causing his nose to twitch, “snff-snff! E-ehh…Hehh… Wh-wha…ehh”

Alastor’s shadow grinned as he watched the Radio Demon fanning a desperate hand in front of his face, wrinkling and unwrinkling his nose, “Need a hand?” it asked.

“N-nuhh… H-huhh… Ndo…snff-snff! SnRKK! Ndo I d-du-huhh… Hehh! E-ehh!” Alastor struggled to reply, still resting perfectly on the precipice of a sneeze, “I just… Ha…ahh…a-Ahh-”

“Have to sneeze? Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

“Ndo…I don’t ne-eed your help…H-heh…Ehh…e-ehh!”

Alastor scrubbed desperately at his nose with his handkerchief and the back of his hand, desperate to quell the ceaseless itching.

“Fide… help mbe, ple-ease…I-ihh…hehh- hh-” Alastor begged, his rheumy eyes beginning to water as the ticklish hitching continued.

“Alright, I’ll help you, but you have to admit it first,” the shadow insisted.

“A-ahh… admi-ihh… admit what?!”

“That you’re a vulnerable, pathetic, cold-ridden mess, so desperate you need someone to poke your twitchy little nose for you,”

“SnfF! Ndever- I-ihh… Ehh…H-heh!” Alastor hitched, sniffling hopelessly and grumbling in frustration at his shadow’s smug smile.

Alastor’s heartbeat quickened as he watched his shadow teasingly trace a finger down the length of his nose, and then around his nostrils, so close that its presence against the sensitive skin made Alastor’s nose twitch and wiggle like a rabbit’s, but not close enough to grant him the satisfaction of the sneeze he’d been stuck on for nearly twelve minutes.

“Eh…E-ehh..HEHH-!” Alastor hitched again, “F-fide! I have a cold, I admit it- just he-hehhlp- mbe sdeeze!”

The shadow smiled, poking Alastor’s nose and reclining in midair to watch the fireworks.

“He-ehh-EH’KZzTCHEW! EH’KzZhhhiew! EH’KXhht-CHEW! H-hEH’KzZsShiew! EH’KZz-TsShIEW!....E-EHH’KZzSsHHEW!” Alastor exploded into a fit of sneezes, his eyes watering profusely and his nose streaming down his face, the undersides of his eyes hopelessly puffy and red.

“There we go,” the shadow snickered, “How pathetic, I wish you could see yourself.”

Alastor’s usual facade of neutral amusement fell, and he leapt at his own shadow in a fit of white hot rage, throwing punches at the intangible figure and attempting to strangle it.

“I’ve had it with you- KhFF!- you insufferable bastard!” Alastor shouted, rolling across the floor of the kitchen, wringing his shadow by its neck until he became exhausted, collapsing against the kitchen floor as his eyelids began to droop, staring at his shadow as it teased him from a safe distance.

“Alastor?”

Alastor turned, rolling over to face the kitchen entryway, and sniffling to shift the congestion that threatened to escape from his sinuses, when he saw the concerned face of a familiar friend.

“Rosie?” Alastor inquired, blinking as he struggled to sit upright, choking back a cough, “What are you doing here?”

“Charlie gave me a call and said you weren’t feelin’ well, I figured I’d stop by… didn’t expect to see you down there,” Rosie replied, “Did you fall?”

“Ndo… I was fighting mby shadow,” Alastor said with an angry hiss, “The bastard has been mbocking mbe for hours- E-ehh’KxXhht-CHEW!”

“Gesundheit!” Rosie said, helping Alastor to his feet and noticing how his legs struggled under his weight, “Your shadow’s been makin’ fun of you?”

“Yes,” Alastor replied, leaning almost helplessly against Rosie as she supported him with one arm when he managed to hold steady on his feet.

Rosie looked away from Alastor briefly and rolled her eyes, turning to look at Alastor’s shadow, who simply shrugged in response to Alastor’s accusation, “Well, I’ll straighten ‘im out for you, he should know better than to antagonize a sick person,” she crooned, scratching behind one of Alastor’s ears.

“Snff! Snff-snff! I’m not sick,” Alastor said, pouting as he wiped off his irritated nostrils with his handkerchief.

Rosie turned Alastor around to face her and shot him a skeptical look, leaning her head forward as though waiting for him to tell her the truth.

Alastor scoffed, turning away from Rosie’s piercing dark eyes, “It’s only a cold… E-Eihh’KzZhht-shhew!” he insisted, blowing his nose and wincing at the heavy congestion that left his sinuses and soaked another handkerchief, “A particularly wet one… but still just a cold.”

Rosie sighed, pressing a manicured hand up against Alastor’s cheek, “Well, you feel a little warm… how about we get you comfortable and put somethin’ in your stomach so you can take a nap?” she said in an all-too-familiar way that Alastor recognized meant he had no choice in the matter.

“Fine,” Alastor relented, letting Rosie guide him into the parlor and sit him down on the loveseat adjacent to the sofa. Kicking off his slippers, Alastor curled into a reclined position with his back against the loveseat’s armrest.

Rosie quietly untied and removed Alastor’s dressing gown before draping a blanket over him in its place, “Comfortable?” she asked, watching Alastor yawn as he settled into his new position, his eyelids drooping.

“Mmhm,”

“Good,” Rosie said with a triumphant smile, frowning after shooting a glance at the clock on the wall, “Oh goodness, Alastor I’ve gotta split for an important meeting, are you gonna be alright on your own?”

“I think so- snff!- I feel much better,”

“Okay, if you’re sure, but I wanna make sure you have this,” Rosie said, handing Alastor a thermos, “It’s tomato soup… I used a blood broth base like I usually do.”

“Delicious,” Alastor mumbled sleepily, rubbing his face against the side of the thermos, “Mmm…thank you so much Rosiie- E-EHH’KxZzHTT-CHEW! Eh’kZzSshhhew! Pardon me.”

“My pleasure, anything for such a dear friend,” Rosie whispered, gently stroking Alastor’s feverish cheek, “Get some rest, okay?”

“I will,” Alastor replied, punctuating his sentence with a hoarse cough before setting the thermos down on the table beside the loveseat and letting out a yawn, “Goodbye Rosie.”

“See ya ‘round, Alastor! Feel better!” Rosie said, leaving through the front doors, leaving the Radio Demon alone once again.

Sniffling into his handkerchief, Alastor rolled onto his side, struggling to keep his eyelids open, “I’m so tired,” he yawned to himself, rubbing his slightly puffy eyes, “I suppose nothing bad would happen if I just took a little nap… I’ll be awake when they get home… E-ehh’kZzShew! Eh’kzZht-chew!”

Alastor shut his eyes, promising himself that he’d only be asleep for a short while as he drifted off and the world went comfortably dark.

Hours passed by as Alastor relaxed, lost in a deep and relaxing slumber with no sounds to disturb him other than his own irritated coughing and KeeKee’s relaxed purring whenever she nuzzled up to his sleeping form.

The front doors of the hotel opened, and Husk, Angel and Niffty walked inside. Niffty was carrying a large stuffed dog, jittering in place after a day of devouring caramel apples, funnel cake, and cotton candy with nothing but soda to wash it down with, getting so excited that Husk eventually had to tether her to his pants with a bungee cord. Angel and Husk walked into the hotel behind Niffty, quietly holding hands while Angel clutched a stuffed pig that Husk won him at a ring toss in one of his arms.

“Alastor’s probably figured us out by now… fun’s over,” Angel said to Husk as the two watched Niffty race upstairs with speed rivaling a stray bullet, “Alastor? We’re back…”

“Eh- H-he-ihh’KZzzhht-chhew! Eh’KZzShhew! Eh’Kxhht-CHEW!”

Angel and Husk exchanged a puzzled look, wandering into the parlor to find Alastor curled up comfortably in his position on the loveseat, blowing his nose into his handkerchief. His nose was flushed an irritated red and his cheeks were still rouged from his slight fever, a relaxed smile on his face as he waved at his friends.

“Oh, you’re back- E-eihh’Kxhhtshhew! ‘Scuse mbe,” Alastor said softly, shifting the congestion in his sinuses with a few wet sniffles, “Did you have fun?”

“Mmhm,” Husk replied, testing the waters to see whether or not Alastor was aware of their ruse, “You feelin’ alright?”

Alastor gestured vaguely with his left hand, “A bit better, but not really- snff snff!- I commend you and Angel for your awareness… ‘Kxhht-shhew! ‘KXxhht-sschiew!... you and Charlie seemed to know I was coming down with something before I did,” he said, wiping his nostrils with his handkerchief, “or at least before I was ready to admit it.”

Angel and Husk silently breathed a massive sigh of relief, practically exchanging a telepathic fist bump before turning back to address Alastor.

“Niffty won ‘ya a stuffed zebra,” Angel piped up, handing the plush animal to Alastor and watching as the slightly-delirious Radio Demon cuddled up to it with a soft smile, “Need anythin’ else before we hit the sack?”

Alastor shook his head, “I’mb alright- snff!- I’m going to get some more rest, see you both tomorrow morning,” he said with a scratchy yawn, nestling comfortably into his blankets and falling back asleep.

Angel and Husk turned out the lights in the parlor, tip-toeing past Alastor’s sleeping form, before quietly shaking hands triumphantly.

“Guess he must’ve actually been gettin’ a cold,” Angel whispered, “Wanna celebrate?”

Husk noticed the risque expression on Angel’s face, “If you’re quiet, then yes… don’t wanna wake him up if he’s actually sick,” he replied.

“Sounds like a plan!” Angel replied, planting a kiss on Husk’s cheek as the two quietly hurried upstairs, leaving the parlor and the hotel’s downstairs completely silent.

Except of course, for Alastor’s congested snoring… interrupted by an occasional-

“e-Ehhh’Kxhht-shhew!”

That. By that.

#ha/zb/in ho/tel #snz #illness kink #snz kink #snz fic #gingey.rtf

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