#the only thing he looks at other than Charlie's face is his foot

[waugh-bao]

Keith comes to focus on playing with Charlie and, later, Mick demands that he move away (1981) 

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Alastor x Reader

SFW

Word Count: 2'627

Warnings: Yandere behaviour, Implied forced relationship, Implied captivity, Toxic relationship, Possessiveness, Invasion of personal space, Non-consensual touching.

Additional Notes: Do be kind, I have not written for this man before and find him exceedingly difficult.

Every week at the Hotel, there was something new Charlie had planned.

Trust exercises. Ice breakers. Activities meant to bring everybody closer together as a group. To try and get people to open up and show a side of vulnerability that - she believed - would help sinners take one step closer to salvation.

Most of them were awkward, and a lot of them never went as planned. A fact she realized and, after a near mental breakdown, had her promptly take advice from Vaggie and agree to try something different.

The task was very simple compared to the previous activities. She requested everybody to think about redemption and what it meant to them.

Thinking about the definition itself took little to no effort.

Redemption (noun): The action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil.

But it was clear that Charlie wanted more than just a quote from the dictionary. She wanted residents of the Hotel to mull over it while looking deep down into themselves so they could share their stance on the matter later on.

That was the tricky part.

From how you saw it, “saving yourself” from sin was easy enough to accomplish. ‘Just don’t be a dick and avoid the bad shit.’ was the first thought that came to mind, but where you hit a snag was based on what Charlie had shared about Heaven. According to her, even so much as breathing in Hell was enough to solidify your place in the inferno, yet she made it clear that actively resisting sin wasn’t something to go unrecognized.

It took a lot of effort, energy, and courage to do so, and it was hard to disagree even if Heaven didn’t see it that way.

Error was a bit harder. In your opinion, nobody could be saved from that, at least not entirely. Eventually, inevitably, you or someone else would do something wrong, it was just a matter of degree. It could be something as minor as bumping into somebody by accident or as major as Angel relapsing for what felt like the hundredth time, but it would happen and it was only a matter of time.

Charlie did bring up a rather good point, though. Apologizing when you realized you had done something wrong was the best thing someone could do, and it was the first step in the right direction.

You had to give her credit where it was due for that.

But evil was a different matter entirely.

Evil lurked everywhere in Hell. Across every street, around every corner, evil was out in the open for everyone to bear witness and see. None of it was hidden. None of it was meant to be hidden.

What would be the point? You and every other sinner were already in Hell - and many would argue that hiding it would be counterintuitive to being there in the first place.

Charlie tried to plead the case that everyone had good in them. A good that could be tweezed out if given the right chance, and the right environment, which the Hotel was perfect for.

You wish you could agree.

Evil was in the hotel itself, not that Charlie was fully willing to see it.

You believed she was careless there. Little Miss Bleeding Heart wanted to see the best in people, and by god did you ever want to know what it was like to see through such rose-tinted glasses, but you knew you never could. Not in this place.

Stepping a foot into the building was the worst thing you’d ever done because it showed you just how wrong you were about evil being so out in the open. It still had the ability to lurk, something you learned the moment you shook hands with Alastor.

You could see it on his face upon meeting him for the first time - the way Alastor’s perpetual grin widened upon seeing the goosebumps that lined your arms when he clasped your hand in his. No comment was ever made on the matter, but the way his lips peeled back to reveal the black of his gums before he pressed a brief kiss to your knuckles said enough.

Something utterly sinister reeked from him in a manner you couldn’t describe, so you took your own advice and applied the same thing you did when it came to sin.

Avoidance. As much as you could, at least.

Some moments were easier than others. The distinct metallic clack of Alastor’s microphone against the floor combined with a surge of radio static usually bought enough time for you to make whatever excuse you needed in order to leave before he arrived.

Other times you weren’t so lucky, and Charlie’s group meetings were usually to blame in that regard.

At first, you made a great deal of effort to put as much distance between yourself and the Radio Demon as you could, which worked for a time. Unfortunately, Alastor caught onto what you were doing much faster than you would’ve liked.

He reveled in it. You knew he did. After a while you had the gnawing suspicion he was purposefully going out of his way to make you as uncomfortable as possible for his own entertainment. You saw no other reason as to why he’d consistently move so close to you that you could literally feel him breathing down your neck.

Lately, he had adopted the skin-crawling habit of locking eyes with you the moment you stepped foot in the room and patting the seat beside him - reserved specifically for you. Accepting the gesture felt like swallowing nails, but being openly rude to Alastor was something that you knew better than to do.

Instead, you began to find excuses for skipping the meetings entirely and have Angel or Husker fill you in later, which was exactly what you were doing now.

“To be honest I wasn’t payin’ much attention,” Angel said while he scrolled through his phone, resting his chin in his upper left hand while his lower right swirled alcohol around in a glass. “Was the kind of thing that could’ve been sent in an email.”

You traced your finger around the rim of your own glass, its contents untouched. “Still, I want to know what I missed.”

“He’s right, it wasn’t anything special,” Husker replied, slinging a cloth over his shoulder from behind the bar. “Same old bullshit about salvation with a new coat of paint on top.”

A pang went through your chest, but you pushed it down. “So nothing new?”

Angel scoffed and looked up from his phone. “Trust me, dollface, you did yourself a favor.” He downed the rest of his drink in one go. “What were you doing anyways?”

“You know…” You replied with a shrug, glancing down. “I went out.”

Angel smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Out?”

“Yeah.” You tapped your nails against the edge of the glass. “Things were feeling a little claustrophobic, so I went out for some air.”

Husker made a noise in the back of his throat. “Yeah, I know how you feel, kid. This place is a mess.”

Angel tilted his head, placing his phone down on the bar and leaning forward a bit. “So where’d you go? Anywhere fun?”

“Where indeed~.”

All your movements went rigid. After a few seconds, you slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder to see Alastor standing barely a foot away from you, staring down at you with a tight, closed-lipped smile. You hadn’t heard him coming in the slightest, which you immediately could tell was intentional.

Whether he’d used his shadow or had actually stalked up behind you wasn’t something you wanted to think about, and if Angel or Husker picked up on the immediate tension, neither of them said anything about it.

“Hey, Smiles.” Angel greeted with his usual flirtation, placing the elbows of his upper arms on the bartop as he turned to face Alastor. “Fancy a drink? You look a little stiff” He gave Alastor a very long once over, “and I’ll have you know I know a few ways I can help relieve some… tension.” 

Alastor’s lips curled back to reveal his teeth, the muscle in his cheek spasming for a moment.

Mentally you were kissing Angel on the cheek for the save as you slowly picked your coat up off the bar and slipped it on, concealing the goosebumps already present on your skin. Husker gave you a glance from the side and gave a very slight shake of his head, silently advising you against your unspoken desire to leave.

“I assure you, such a thing is never going to happen.~”

“You sure?” Angel rested his lower right arm on his hip. “I have a few tricks that can loosen you up.”

The leather in Alastor’s gloves audibly squeaked as his grip tightened around the staff of his microphone and his attention immediately shifted back to you, ignoring Angel entirely.

“My dear,” His voice dripped with such a saccharine sweetness it made you feel sick, “Could I speak with you for a moment?”

Fewer combinations of words could instill such a unique feeling of encroaching dread all at once, but you refused to let it show as you nodded and turned your body on the bar stool to face him fully; waiting for him to say the first word.

His eye twitched ever so slightly.

“Privately.”

That made you swallow.

“Sure.” You slid off the bar stool, doing your best not to appear as reluctant as you felt.

“Lovely.~” He said, promptly turning on his heel and walking towards the staircase - expecting you to follow.

You glanced back towards Husker and Angel, each giving you looks of grim sympathy and confusion respectively before you took a deep breath and forced one foot in front of the other, following Alastor up the steps.

You thought he would talk along the way. Engage in some form of idle chit-chat where he’d be pulling the strings, or even hum along to the countless jazz tunes that he played in the halls over the Hotel’s sound system.

But no such music played and he remained silent. A few minutes into the walk you gathered enough courage to glance up at him and found his eyes locked straight forward, not even sparing you so much as a glance.

You averted your gaze, the hem of your sleeves suddenly the most fascinating thing you’d ever seen.

Eventually, he came to a stop, and he held out the end of his microphone to prevent you from going any further down the hallway.

“Here we are!” Rather than producing a key from his coat, a green flash emanated from the lock when he placed his hand on the handle and opened the door.

He all but leered at you as he gave a small bow that didn’t feel genuine in the slightest.

“After you.~”

Like the alleged gentleman he was, Alastor held the door open for you, eyes never leaving your form as you walked inside his suite.

The smell of dampness and soil hit you immediately.

Alastor’s suite wasn’t the worst thing you’d seen in Hell by a mile, however, it was still eerie beyond words. The skeletons that hung along the walls and mantlepiece of his fireplace became less complete and increasingly disorganized as they led further into the room - which itself gave way to a swamp-like environment halfway through. Undoubtedly a result of whatever hoodoo, voodoo bullshit he was capable of, and while it still wasn’t the worst you’d seen, it served its purpose thoroughly.

It creeped the shit out of you.

“Now, then.” Alastor clicked the door shut, his body half-facing yours as his hand still lingered on the doorknob. “I'm sure you have a good explanation for what you’ve been doing.~”

The immediate dryness in your throat was hard to ignore. You knew what he was talking about, and you knew that he knew, but you still attempted to buy some time as you tried to figure out what to do.

You cleared your throat. “I was just catching up with Angel and Husk-”

He chuckled, the sound like that of a radio shifting stations. “Don’t be coy.” His head turned towards you with a sickening, ossified crackle that bent his neck in a manner that made your stomach lurch. “You’ve been avoiding me, and I’d like to know why.”

Fuck.

“I haven’t.” Lying to Alastor was a mistake, but you still decided to risk it since it wasn’t entirely false. “There’s just been a lot on my mind recently.”

“Hmm.” Interest and something much worse flickered behind his eyes as he faced you fully with another crack of his vertebrae. “Such as~?”

You shook your head, looking away from him. “That’s private.”

There was a quick flash of red, and the tip of his microphone turned your face back towards him - the cool metal of the edge digging into the skin of your cheek. You had to bite back a grimace.

“Not when it concerns me.” His tone was sharp, a stark contrast to the faux politeness he was putting on before. He kept the tip of his microphone where it was to prevent your eyes from looking anywhere but him. “And trust me darling, when it comes to you, everything concerns me.”

His words twisted in your gut. “...I’m not sure what you mean.”

Alastor tutted, his smile widening once more. “Don’t be stupid, darling, it’s unbecoming of you.” The way he said it was patronizing, like he was scolding a child. “You know precisely what I mean, so I’m going to ask again, as much as I hate repeating myself.~”

Cool metal was replaced with the warmth of his hand as he tilted your head up and brought his face frighteningly close to yours.

“Why are you keeping yourself from me?”

It was an odd sensation. Being backed into a corner, both metaphorically and physically. A frightening one that all but yanked on your instincts to do whatever it meant to get the fuck out of there, but you knew that was the worst thing you could do.

Alastor was a predator, a creature designed to prey on those he deemed weaker, and turning your back on a predator would almost certainly trigger a series of events that would not bode well for you.

So you did the next worst thing.

You told him the truth.

“Because I can see you.” The words felt wrong to say out loud. “I can see you for what you are, I can feel the absolute malevolence that radiates off you in waves, and it’s suffocating.”

Saying any more was a horrendous idea, but you couldn’t help but add one last thing.

“And if I want any chance at leaving this god-forsaken place, I can’t be around you.”

The silence that stretched on afterward was deafening.

Mentally, you were bracing yourself. Alastor had killed people for far less, and you expected nothing different for saying something so daring to his face.

You could see it too, the anger that simmered underneath his gaze. You expected the red of his sclera to flash black and his antlers to extend with his body in a grotesque display before you were ripped to pieces while he laughed.

What you didn’t expect was for his eyes to narrow into slits and his expression shift into one that was far more genuine than you wanted it to be, and it was then you knew that being saved from this kind of evil was never going to happen.

“Oh, my dear, you don’t need to worry about something silly like that.” Alastor all but cooed.

“After all, what makes you think I’d ever let you leave?~”

© absolute-flaming-trash 2024. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[alastorss]

AAAA ITS GOOD TO HAVE YOU BACK!

I love your characterization of Alastor sm ❤️❤️❤️

Could I request reader dropping dead things (people/body parts, deer, etc.) at his door/radio tower? No note, just corpses. He’s gotta figure out who tf if dropping these for him.

a/n: thank you, it's so good to be back!! i really appreciate you and everyone for being so welcoming :')) <3

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"You've been doing what?!"

"I didn't think it was so bad... You're the one who wanted me to make friends!"

Charlie only gawks at you, tugging at the ends of her hair in stress. The Princess of Hell paces back and forth across the room, slowly piecing together why Alastor has been in such a foul mood lately.

"So you thought the best way to make friends with the Radio Demon was to leave dead bodies at his doorstep?"

"He loves dead bodies."

"Yeah, to eat them! Oh god, what kind of message have you been sending to him?" She babbles on, exasperated and flinging her hands around in a panic. "He must think you're threatening him or something!"

"Well..." you make some sort of constipated expression and Charlie stops dead in her tracks. "He might not know they've been from me."

"You've been leaving them anonymously?" The Princess squeaks, unsure of whether that makes it infinitely better or infinitely worse. "What was even the point then?"

"I get nervous!" You argue, flopping back on the couch and laying an arm over your eyes. "I was going to tell him eventually."

Alastor was a different breed of terrifying. He could silence a room just by breathing in it. The wailing souls in his broadcast were enough to command that sort of attention.

When Charlie had given you the task of making friends as a part of her "redemption project" you had assumed he was exempt from the list. He was, after all, fairly secluded despite his cheery demeanour. Very few had ever managed to become his companions.

However, your hopes of avoiding him had been flushed down the drain when you accidentally bumped into each other on the way out on your very first day.

He gave you a look over, scrutinizing you from head to toe until your cheeks burned. Then, demanded something very simple of you:

"Welcome! Please, do entertain me."

His first and, as of today, last words he ever spoke to you. Sure, your methods were a little unorthodox, but you had asked Husk for advice and Alastor's cannibalistic tendencies were as much as the bartender was willing to spill.

When you don't receive any response, you peel your arm away to peer at your friend. She makes another two laps around the coffee table before her face lights up.

"I've got it!"

"I don't like that look on your face—"

"Come on," she laughs, pulling you by the wrists. "You just have to be honest. And make sure he knows you're not trying to kill him!"

"How am I supposed to do that?" You ask nervously. "You just told me he's been in a worse mood than usual."

A sinister smile that could only belong to the daughter of the devil creeps its way across her lips.

Dread. All you feel is terrible dread.

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As much as Alastor enjoys a good meal, this is becoming excessive.

It must be the seventh or eighth body this week. And, as usual, there is no note. No indication of why there's a corpse or a deer head or a rabbit's foot at his door. He can't even sniff out any traces of a soul being here.

He hates charity.

Not even because he does not need it, but because the anonymity is making him think they're gifts of pity. That, or it's a threat on his life. Either way, he loathes the idea that someone is looking down on him.

The demon needs to get to the bottom of this soon. Paranoia is not common for him, but the anxious bubbling in his chest is unmistakable. Whoever keeps leaving the bodies at his door is meticulously clean when they kill. He would hate to be on the receiving end of the blade.

Just as he's about to dump the body in his swamp for later, there's a knock on his bedroom door. He hesitates.

No, he isn't afraid of whoever is on the other side of the door. However, if there were a fight, he would need to get his suit tailored again and he simply doesn't have the time for that today.

He takes slightly too long to decide whether or not the person on the other side of the wall is a threat, because soon enough his ears pick up the sound of retreating footsteps.

Alastor swings the doors open so fast that you yelp.

At first he's confused why you refuse to turn around to look at him. Lacking common manners—he'll have to bring that up to you later. Then, he's confused on why you've shown up to his door at all.

"May I help you, dear?"

A chill creeps down your spine. Charlie and her ideas... they would be the death of you. Preferably today. Right now.

"I didn't mean to disturb you!" You stammer, still not looking at him.

Alastor raises a brow before popping up behind you from the shadows. You squeak, clutching somehing to your chest and shielding it from his gaze. He does a loop around your body and you spin around to keep the item hidden. The Radio Demon narrows his eyes.

"Are you hiding something?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

You do another spin as he tries to get a peek of what's in your hands.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" He feigns offense. Again, another spin.

"Of course not!"

"You see, I very much don't enjoy being lied to. Last time I caught a scoundrel in my midst, I cracked them open like a—"

"Okay, okay!" You suddenly burst out. You turn so slow that Alastor feels himself holding his breath.

When he finally sees what you've been so insistent on hiding, he snickers. Impolitely, mind you.

"Don't laugh," you whine, squeezing the bouquet closer to your chest. Amongst the flowers are little pieces of death—fingers, eyes, ears.

Charlie had decided that one step back in your redemption by collecting body parts like this would result in three steps forward. She allowed it, just this once.

"Are these for me?" He purrs, leaning down until his face is in yours. You'd been warned before that Alastor had no concept of personal space, but you can't help the way it robs the air in your lungs.

"Please don't get the wrong idea," you strain in embarrassment. "I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. For leaving all those bodies here. I didn't mean for it to come across as insulting."

The demon blinks at you in stunned silence for a few moments before he cackles, standing back to let you breathe again. "Why, of course! No hard feelings, darling."

"Really?" You lighten up with a sigh of relief.

"Your little gifts have kept me on my toes," he assures. "Perhaps not my idea of entertainment, but the effort was there."

"I'm glad to hear that," you smile. "Charlie was worried you wouldn't accept my apology or want to be friends."

You seem to catch yourself, eyes going wide as you shake your head.

"N-Not that I'm assuming this means we can be friends!"

Alastor only laughs again, gentler this time. "No need to be so jumpy. I don't bite," he muses. "And tell the Princess she has nothing to worry about."

He takes the bouquet from you, hands lingering over yours for a fraction longer than he meant for them to.

"I would love to be your friend."

~

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[ohtobeleah]

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Chapter One: [Mermaids Don’t Exist]

Summary: Jake continues to plays your knight in shining armour when tensions rise between you and an overly intoxicated patron. Bob brings up a mutual memory.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x F!reader. Witness Protection F!reader. Sexually degrading comments made towards reader. Sexual tension, trauma. Mentions of death & violence.

Word Count: 3.5k

Author Note: Still not writing as much as I once was but I’m getting back into the swing of things. Any comments, thoughts or concepts are welcome!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Dreams mainly occur when the body falls into a stage of sleep referred to as R.E.M. Rapid eye movement occurs when the brain and body are finally able to completely rest. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that when your body is able to rest, it allows you to do so. 

��We’ll find you, Y/n!” 

Nightmares are typically thought to be an evolutionary conserved trait. Some researchers believe that nightmares provide a rehearsal for life-or-death situations. Before you lived one? You would have said something along the lines of ‘that checks out.’

“No no no no please, Patrick, stay with me—“ 

Some researchers believe nightmares to be a practical experience for many people as it allows the brain to run through multiple different algorithms to find the most desirable strategies, and solutions to often critical and complex situations. 

From a procedural standpoint, simply imagining doing an action can improve your performance.  

“I love you—take Charlie.”

This applies when we simply imagine doing an action such as playing the piano or running for your life after being run off the road, it activates something called a mirror neuron. 

“You have no idea what you’re dealing with here, girly.” 

In theory, the more nightmares you have, the more of those algorithms your brain is able to run, and the more prepared you’re likely to be for the daily struggle of survival. 

But evolution herself is seen by the scientific community more so as a tinkerer than as an inventor. 

“Oh god—please, not my baby, please! Someone! Help us!” 

So, that’s probably why you have the same nightmare over and over and over again every single night. 

Every morning you wake in the same way, with your face pressed into your pillow and your chest sinking into your mattress. Secretly, every morning you wished that your pillow would have suffocated you in your sleep so that today would forever be unobtainable. But you couldn’t do that, no. Not when the only way to bring a sense of worth to your life was to keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

With a groan and a look that spoke volumes to your lack of self-esteem, you rolled onto your back and let out a heavy sigh. Your hands were quick to shield your eyes from the mid-afternoon rays beaming into your bedroom via the slightly cracked windows. 

“Your name is Y/n Y/l/n, you are doing the right thing.”

Guilt and grief aren’t linear emotions. They don’t have a perception of how much time has passed. Realistically it had been three years, six months, and two days since your entire world had been flipped upside down. But every morning, after seeing your husband bleeding to death as he sat pressed against the steering wheel, and having held your five-year-old son in your arms while he took his last breath, the wound was reopened.

And the clock always resets.

“Ah, there she is.” You couldn’t help but hang your head in shame almost. Penny’s glare from behind the bar was as piercing and sharp as it was endearing and playful. Like a woman who took no shit from no one. “You know, you’d think management would be here on time more frequently than whatever the hell this is.” All you could do was take the semi-serious scattering from the owner of the bar you’d been lucky enough to be set up with a pretty good gig at. “Get over here and give me a hand will ya?” 

“Sorry, Penny—” There wasn’t much more you could say to justify yourself. You woke up late, got ready slowly, and got lost in the steam of your mid-afternoon shower as you fought off the existential dread that was your current situation. “Flat tyre,” You shrugged like it wasn’t that big of a deal that you were currently twenty-three minutes late for your shift, “I’ll make it up to you.” 

“Yeah well, you can start by clearing off the table by the piano,” Penny smiled as she nudged her head in the direction of the unruly table of patrons that had surely had far too much to drink. “Think Rick’s had a little more than his liver would care to admit.” 

“Yeah righto,” you sighed as you came behind the bar, doing up your apron as you looked around at the utter mess that had become the place. “I’ll sort him out.” 

North Island wasn’t somewhere you ever saw yourself living, but that was the real kicker in all of this. You didn’t mind the picturesque town with clear blue skies and water that mirrored it. But being the outsider, being the new resident, being the Hard Deck’s newest manager was all some of these people saw you as. Six months in a small Naval town was barely a dint in the years some of these families had been living here. 

“Aw hello, Brewer!” Rick Spencer, the resident rioter, cooed as he beamed your way. For someone in their mid-sixties, he surely went alright. “What brings you in on this fine Saturday afternoon?”

Typical - If you could have, you would have rolled your eyes so far into the back of your head you would have fallen over. Instead, you chose to smile and settle into the nightlife festivities with a can-do attitude and a rather cheeky smile. 

“Came to check on you, Spence? How’s everything over here boys?” It wasn’t uncommon for you to entertain the banter most of the patrons would give you. Most of the locals had caught on quickly that you enjoyed a good laugh every now and again but also knew how to handle your own. 

But there's always one in every group, isn’t there? 

“Would be a hell of a lot better if the barmaid was a little more topless! Right boys!?” A man you hadn’t seen before interrupted before a roar of ‘yeahs’ and agreements were made. Fists and beer bottles along with spirits alike slammed against the tabletop. “Come on girly—” The man continued as you stood there holding the empty bar tray, ready and waiting to collect the empties that littered the table. “Get your kit off.” 

“I don’t think so, boys,” You politely declined the offer of public indecency. “Perhaps in another lifetime.” 

“Sorry about him, Brewer,” Rick explained as he shook his head and stood from his seat at the booth. “My nephew’s here for a few days.”  

“Yeah well, so long as he remembers I run the joint and can have him tossed any time,” You replied sternly. “Keep him in line, Rick.” 

“Oh come on now, sweetheart, I was only joking!” The man you only knew as the nephew chuckled as he overheard your comment. “It’s slim pickings around here anyway, you just look like the best of a bad bunch is all.” 

“Hey!” That voice, that far too familiar voice echoed through the crowd. “You speak to her, or any woman for that matter, like that again? So help me god I’ll punch your teeth right through the back of your skull.” Jake snarled as he came to stand in front of you with his back nearly pressed right into your chest. “Got it!?” The close proximity, the overwhelming aroma of the familiar cologne, and the notes of burnt orange and bourbon made your heart warm. It all had your heart beating against your chest with a force so intense you thought it might break through. 

“Yeah right,” the man only known as the nephew agreed. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’ll get on the waters for a while.” 

“That and a pretty big tip should call us even,” you added with envy conviction laced in your voice that you even had yourself fooled that everything was alright. “Let me just grab these empties for you fellas.” 

You didn’t mess around with it, you simply let the group fall back into their regular chatter as you filled your tray. 

Jake stood with crossed arms a little off to the side, eyeing off all the men who sat idly. Fucking pricks. 

“Been here all of five fucking minutes—” Jake could sense your frustration as you turned into him. At first, he didn’t move, he simply stood there drinking you in as you held the now full tray of dirty glassware. 

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” was all you said. 

With wandering eyes, Jake didn’t miss a single inch of you. 

“I know,” Jake smiled softly as he reached around to lead you back to the bar for a moment to decompress. His hand gently fell to the small of your back as you walked side by side, “I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, but just because you’re capable? Doesn’t mean you have to go it alone.” 

Alone, that’s all you’d ever been for the last three years. 

“Yeah, yeah I guess you’re right,” the sigh that left your body allowed your shoulders to relax as you placed the tray onto the bar and slid it over for Penny to take. “Thanks, Jake, I owe you one.” 

Jake Seresin had never been the kind of guy who saw himself settling down. But when he first saw you, that thought hadn’t left his mind. 

“Name a time and place,” Jake teased as he sent you a wink. It didn’t take Jake long to find himself at home up by the bar, perched on one of the bar stools as he entertained his favourite bartender. “I’ve always wondered what our first date would be like.” 

“Do I look like I came down in the last shower, Seresin?” You knew Jake had a thing for you, it wasn’t all that hard to put together. But it could never work, not in a million years. Not when you were playing pretend on a professional basis.

“What’s that even mean?” Jake asked as he leaned his elbows on top of the bar, grinning ear to ear as he pressed your buttons more. 

“It means—“ You cooed as you leaned into his space, making it known that the flirting was welcome, but the end goal wasn’t in sight. “I know you’re just trying to get in my pants.” 

“Pretty good-looking set of pants if I do say so myself,” Jake teased as his eyes trailed down the expanse of your body, then back up. Those emerald cities of his were full of complex wonder and undoubtable loyalty. Something you could never give back. “But despite the fact I think you’re pants would look a hell of a lot better in a pile on my bedroom floor, I’m not just doing any of this for a chance to, well, you know what I mean.” 

You did know what Jake meant, and for all intents and purposes you could admit to yourself that it sounded very tempting. But you knew what the repercussions would be.

“Jake, that’s all very sweet of you,” you felt as if you had this very conversation every week. The gentle let down. The kind-ish conversation where you reminded the overly-confident and somewhat self-assured Aviator that you weren’t looking for love or lust, or anything. Besides, there were already too many people looking for you. “But you know, as much as I think you’re a good guy and friend, I’m not interested.” 

Jake stood silently before you, drinking in all that was you. From the lines etched into your forehead to the small scar that ran through your left eyebrow. He wasn’t listening, there was just something about you. Something so intriguing that he couldn’t stop trying to win you over. He couldn’t stop trying to get you to give him just one chance. One chance was all Jake wanted to convince you he wasn’t everything he knew people had told you he was. 

“What would you say if I asked you to–” Before Jake had a chance to finish his question, the echoing sound of a glass shattering into smitherings against the wooden flooring, interrupted his train of thought. 

“OOOIII– TAXI!” It was almost as if all the patrons, besides Jake that was, had all congealed into one as they yelled shouted and cheered towards the man who had dropped his glass. With a heavy sigh and a quick roll of the eyes, you knew you would be the one who ultimately had to clear the mess. 

“I should probably get back to work.” The silence that came from Jake was deafening as you pulled away from where you had been standing far too close to a man you thought you didn’t want. A man you couldn’t have even if deep down you really wanted. Life was unfair like that. You couldn’t have anything you wanted, anything you loved. Anything that made you happy in the smallest of ways. 

“There’s really no chance of getting you to agree to just one date, is there Brewer?” Jake watched as you made your over to where you kept the cleaning supplies in a small section behind the bar. 

“If you already know that then why do you constantly make such an effort?” It was the look on your face that told Jake everything he needed to know. There was no chance in hell he was ever getting that date. 

But Jake Seresin never gave up without a fight, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to now. 

“Because you gentled me, Brewer,” Jake Seresin had never been the type of person who wanted to settle down. He was always so content with the relations he chose to have and the way he chose to have them. Short simple quick flings. Girlfriends who lasted no longer than a year and one-night stands he’d promise to call but never got their numbers. But then there was you. “No one’s ever done that before.” 

“Please don’t put that on my shoulders, Jake,” You weren't sure how to respond to that, how to process that kind of admission. “Just lay off the heroics for a while alright? I don’t want people getting the wrong impression.” 

“That impression would be?” Jake questioned like you’d just insulted his very being. That it would be a crime to love him. 

“Jake, I have a job to do alright,” It wasn’t that you were angry or upset that Jake cared for and about you. It was more frustration on your part for not being able to act on your own feelings towards him. It had been three years since your husband died. Three years since you felt the loving embrace of another human being. That alone was enough to frustrate anyone. “Please, just–just, I need to get back to work.” 

The thing about nightmares is that they often don’t stick to their own parameters. Sometimes, you end up living a nightmare more often than you dream one. Right now? As Jake looked at you like you’d just shot him through the heart, you knew you were wide awake. Living a nightmare that continued to punish only the good. 

“You’re untouchable,” Jake sighed to himself softly as he shook his head in defeat. “The untouchable woman who won’t let anyone in, you’re too proud or something aren’t you?” 

“It’s just–” All you wanted to do was explain yourself, pull Jake aside and let him in on why you couldn’t allow him to love you the way you wanted him to. But no words came out as you stood there holding the old dustpan by your side. 

With every blink, you saw flashes of Patrick. The love you lost too soon, too suddenly. He made sure to haunt your dreams to keep you safe. For a brief second of all-consuming anguish, you saw him too. Standing right behind Jake, warning you not to. “I need to get back to work, I’m sorry.” 

“Right,” Jake clenched his jaw when he felt the word vomit about to spew from his lips. He wasn’t mad, rejection just wasn’t something he was familiar with. “When you get a chance, put a Budweiser on Bradshaw’s tab.” Jake pressed his lips together into a fine line of regret, instantly kicking himself for pushing. He knew he shouldn’t have, but the chase was as addicting as it was thrilling. With a simple knock of his knuckles on the bar before, he turned on his heels. Leaving you to stand there in your own self-loathing. 

Your heart sank as you watched Jake shove his hands into the pockets of his jeans with a head that hung so low you almost wondered if his neck would be sore. Guilt, shame, it all felt the same. But you couldn’t let Jake in, you couldn’t allow him into your life more than what you’d given him over the last six months. 

You’d tangled yourself in barbed wire so you couldn’t be reached by anyone. Unknowingly bleeding when as it digs into you more and more. You would think the touch of skin on yours wouldn’t be so terrifying, but you’d been bruised before. You couldn’t allow Jake to fall into your web of lies that kept you safe from harm’s way. If hurting him was the only way to keep him safe, you’d hurt him twice over every single day.

Perhaps it would be safer to stay the untouchable woman. 

***~***~***~***~***~****

As a child, there was magic in the mundane. You often found yourself missing the mermaids among the koi in the pond, their glittering scales reminiscent of a childhood fairytale. Summer mornings you’d make bouquets out of the same flowers adults would now mow away while wrinkling their noses at the weeds. 

You often wondered to yourself when the awe of the day-to-day faded away and when you stopped believing in your ability to see mermaids in the momentous world around you. 

“Another round fellas?” You tried not to think too much about the way Jake’s eyes burned into you like a fiery sunbeam as you stood behind Rooster. “Same old same old? The usual orders of Bradshaw’s table?” The squad, affectionately known as the Daggers erupted into laughter all the while Rooster remained silent and brooding. 

“You are all bleeding my dry,” Bradley sighed as you made the rounds and collected all the empties onto your bar tray. “Seriously, I know you aren’t all working for free, cough up.” 

“You could– just apologise for being a Neanderthal and I’ll close it out?” Your statement left a bad taste in Rooster’s mouth, he wasn’t one for apologising for things he didn’t think he’d done wrong. 

“I could,” the brooding moustache-having man replied. “But it’d be an empty lie.” There was something about Bradley Bradshaw that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention. He wasn’t necessarily a bad person, he was–an only child. He probably never imagined mermaids among the koi.  

“Appreciate the honesty there, Bradshaw,” you chuckled deeply as you finished you collecting all the empty glasses and beer bottles. “Guess the next rounds on you.” 

“Here here,” Coyote chimed in with a Cheshire Cat grin. “All in a hard day’s work there Rooster, you always know how to piss off the barkeep.” 

“Works out in our favour,” Bob smiled as he passed you two empty glasses. “I don’t think I’ve paid for a drink of my own in a few weeks now.” 

“No, you just keep trying to convince everyone Brewer here was your first kiss,” Phoenix smirked as she finished off her beer. 

All the air inside your lungs felt like they had been sucked right out. The chills that ran down the expanse of your spine made your blood run cold. You stood tall with your now full tray of old beer bottles and empty glasses and sent a polite smile Bob’s way. 

“You still riding that wave?” 

“You just really look like Y/n from Nurellun Public,” Bob countered with an almost pleading tone. “She was my first kiss by the sandpit and I remember she had a little yellow dot in her right eye.” 

“Brewer has a yellow dot in her right eye,” Jake decided to enter the conversation from his place in the corner of the booth. “Tell you what Floyd, you must have been one shocking kisser if you got Brewer here to change her damn name.” The table erupted into a loud boisterous laugh as the Weapons System Officer sunk a little lower into his seat. 

You felt for Bob, being the butt of the joke was never a good feeling. But when your case officer relocated you to North Island, he didn’t bank on one of its locals being your first snog. You hated gaslighting the guy, but you had no other choice. Bob Floyd had to stay in the era of Meridamis and weed bouquets. 

“Like I told you last time Bob, you’ve got the wrong girl,” It was as nonchalant as it was dismissive. “My first kiss was with Johnny Bennett out at some random guys shed.” You had gotten used to lying about your life and who you were. At the very beginning it was almost impossible, but three years on? You’d gotten pretty good at playing pretend. 

Only you wished it could be with the mermaids in their fairytales. But much like all those mermaids and all those fairytale stories……you didn’t exist. Much like Johnny Bennett.  

***~***~***~***~***~ 

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[okchijt]

hii! could u separate headcanons of Yandere! Alastor and Vox x Male Overlord! Reader who never smiles (very rarely) , isn't very chatty and doesn't really like dance and sing?

Author's Note: Thank you so much Anon for the request! Decided to write this as soon as it came cause I finished the show a few weeks ago and still have the brainrot. The request asks for a male reader and the title also says it, but you can easily read it as gender-neutral as well since I don't think that what I write is that gender-specific to the request to matter aside from like two gender-specific words I use but you can easily ignore them if you want. And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!🩷

Yandere Alastor x Male Overlord Reader Headcanons

📻 Smilling is Alastor's whole thing, and even though he doesn't care if others smile or not, but as his Darling, he seems to care quite a lot! He's not that vocal about it though, only making a slight comment here and there: "You're never fully dressed without a smile!" or "A smile makes all the difference!" All to try and make you smile more. I imagine he says the same speech he did to Charlie, that a smile can be anything you want it to be and the effect it has on others.

📻 When all else fails he'd use his wits and puns to get a smile out of you, and when you finally do smile on occasion Alastor is over the moon. It's a huge success in his book, he'd immediately praise how lovely that smile looks on your face and he'd pat your head or back approvingly as well.

📻 Since you're on Overlord yourself Alastor feels nothing but respect for you. If you were a simple sinner he'd feel superior despite you being his Darling. But in this case, you're on the same level if not stronger than him so that just gives him more of a reason to make you smile, anything to get your approval, it's the only one he needs or cares for anyway. In this case, you letting him stay by your side only fuels his ego because it's a pleasure only he gets to have and no one else. You're his and he has no intentions of sharing you with anyone, he's fiercely protective and possessive over you and that includes your smile. Only he gets to see and experience your purest form, sinners would rather make a deal than die by his hand just because they saw something they shouldn't.

📻 Alastor is more than fine with having a non-chatty Darling, he doesn't speak unless he has to so he can relate to you. That said, he's only okay with it when you're quiet to everyone else but him. After all, he's only this close to you so shouldn't he earn the pleasure of hearing your voice? He'd push you for a conversation sometimes, asking you questions or just string up a conversation to the point where you're forced to respond. The longer you keep quiet the more irritated and persistent he'll become, so it's better to start sooner or later if you don't want to see Alastor slowly lose himself.

📻 Although there's no official answer to whether Alastor likes to sing or dance, I have my personal thoughts on that so I'll use them here. I think Alastor likes dancing, with a specific person that is, that being you. You won't catch him on the dancefloor with anyone but you. Though because you ain't that much of a dancer, and unlike the smile thing Alastor doesn't really mind. He is forceful with everyone else as we saw in the show, but as his Darling and fellow Overlord, he has too much respect for you to push you to do something against your will. Though if you would ever agree to dance with him, he'd be really respectful and make sure you enjoy yourself so that he'll have a chance at another dance next time. Also, you always only dance to jazz or swing music, that's one thing Alastor will always put his foot down on.

📻 Singing is the second thing Alastor would take the most seriously after smiling when it comes to his Darling. Singing is one of those things that lets you express yourself, you can show any emotion by it. Even though Alastor had like four songs in the show, I feel like he only sings when he has to, always to make himself look good or to be on the winning side. So I feel like Alastor would be a little disappointed if you chose to solve problems like a normal person instead of having a rap battle with someone. Though I feel like that's a subject he won't push on about too much despite his feelings, he'll only allude to it from time to time.

📻 Overall, the only issue Alastor would have with a Darling like that is him not smiling, but that's about it. It's the only thing he'd be aggressively vocal about and sometimes the singing one. Otherwise, he tolerates everything else about you. All Alastor needs is to have you all to himself and if it means he's the only one to witness you do any of those stuff in private, how can he complain? He much rather prefers that scenario anyway, you're his after all.

Yandere Vox x Male Overlord Reader Headcanons

📺 Unlike Alastor, Vox doesn't put that much importance on smiling like his rival, but he still views it as useful. He's a public-based Overlord, so a smile is always important to have when trying to sell his brand. You can be a part of the Vee's or not, you're still an Overlord that is either on his level or stronger, so Vox is bewildered how you don't even try to smile when talking to those below you to win them over.

📺 He'd try to explain to you how much more influence and power you could have with a smile alone: "Smile, and they'll know who's in charge here!'' or ''It's the best way to win the public's adoration!'' He just wants you to present yourself the same way he does. He'd be really disappointed if you continued to refuse his idea, but once you smiled at something he said in private, it made him stop and think. It made him realize that something so alluring should be for his eyes only, he should be the only one to enjoy such a sight and no one else. He'd always whisper sweet nothing into your ear whenever he catches you smiling, hoping it'll encourage you to smile more. It fuels him and he'd do anything to get you to smile like that again for him.

📺 As a fellow Overlord, he respects you a ton, especially if you're a part of the Vee's with him. Because you're so different from the typical Overlord he surrounds himself with, he's much more wary of how he approaches you in fear of setting you off. He wants you to adore him the same way he does you and he'll try to achieve that by treating you like the King you are. Anything you say goes and even when he tries to push some issues forward, as his Darling you're the only one that can shut him down.

📺 Though Vox would prefer if you were a bit more chatty for the sake of the brand and all that, he won't really say anything to you about it. Your presence is enough to either win other sinners over or scare all the threats away. Kinda like Alastor, in private Vox will be very chatty with you, you're his Darling so he only feels safe enough with you to spill all of his thoughts out. But unlike his rival, Vox won't push or force you to respond, he's more than okay with you just being silent as he talks, it's therapeutic in a way. Though he'd always encourage you to talk some more if you do eventually say something, your voice just makes him so happy. He'll stop whatever he was doing just to focus all of his attention on you as you talk, but if you stop that's okay, he's already satisfied to hear his Darling talk even if just a little.

📺 Vox ain't that much of a dancer, he's pretty stiff actually, so he's both glad and bothered by the fact that you aren't. Good for him cause you don't pressure or force him to do something he knows he's bad at and embarrass himself in front of you, unlike a certain moth. But at the same time, he'd want to see you dance, he wouldn't care how good you would be at it, you're his Darling so he'd still think you're brilliant regardless! He won't ever push you to do it though, taking how he feels about it he won't force you into something he knows he wouldn't like doing himself.

📺 Singing is what Vox makes up for not being able to dance, he's a good singer and he knows it, though you're the only one who he'd sing to willingly. He'll sing to you in private all the time, wanting to charm you and make you weak for him just like how weak he is for you. But it's the same thing as with dancing, he would love to hear you sing for him, about anything really, but again, he won't force you to do it. Sometimes he'd sing a song that requires a duet to see if you'll budge. Unfortunately for him, you don't, but he won't say anything, he adores you regardless.

📺 Seems like Vox shares a similar issue with his rival, his one problem is you not wanting to smile more. Outside of that he sometimes gently tries to persuade you into singing or smiling for him, but won't push the issue onward if he faces rejection for his request. Vox is more than satisfied knowing you'd sometimes budge in private for him, that's all he really needs and craves really. Him being the only one to witness his Darling doing any of those things makes his ego only grow, because it's his privilege alone and no one else's. And it'll stay that way no matter what.

[shapard]

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

I wrote this late at night so not proof read yet.

It's going down~

little Angst, Violence, major death

True Story

Chapter 9 > Chapter 10 < Epilogue

Shock and being scared was an understatement of feelings that Lucifer, Charlie and the others are facing right now. The others follow Lucifer like a lost puppy, as they walked through the halls of the horror Playhouse. 

Lucifer remembered every angle of this place. This is where he began creating things for heaven and then for Lilith. 

Or rather it was. 

His eyes were set on the horrible victims of Michael. The Mangled Angels that looked like the worst demon. 

Worser than any of the demon he saw in hell. Probably even worser than Rue.

At some point they were standing in front of an empty cell that was stained with golden blood and your aura.

Beside the cell there was none other than Leonardo looking right at the group. 

He was already expecting them.

“Long time no see, Lucifer.”

….

You walked with your bare foot on the golden floor, beside you stood Michael, Azrael, and Gabriel. 

They were guarding you up the stairs. Watching you like hawks do with their prey with those glowing dangerous eyes.

You’re going to meet him, the famous God almost everyone is worshipping.

The one you served such a long time.

The one who let you down so easily. 

The God that you were sure despites you with his very being.

Maybe it was wrong to think that way. But you couldn't shake off the feeling that something will happen.

Your hands were still chained up, but your feet were walking almost on Autopilot.

You wanted to stay in that cell and rot in there in peace, rather than facing someone who let you down easily. 

“Y/n?” Your eyes widen at that voice, a warm feeling spread around your chest, and you felt like you wanted to cry. Nothing is more calming than a mother’s voice to its child.

And yet you didn’t look up nor give her nay response that you’ve heard her. After all you didn’t forgive her how she just let you fall and that it was her idea in the first place. 

Michael told you everything.

Even though he can’t be trusted you couldn’t help but believe him. The bittersweet taste that allures you into his darkness was tempting.

You were tempted to fall into his madness. But the memories you and Lucifer shared were the only thing that destroyed you and kept you sane.

Gabriel glared at Sera, “why is she here? She isn’t supposed to be here.” He ushered towards Azrael who just shrugged him off. 

Your hand clenched hard. You don’t want to see her. Not when she looks at you with these pitiful eyes, even though it is her fault all alone. 

“What have you done to my daughter?” Sera looked in horror at the bruises on your wrist and body. The bruises around your wrist were almost deep purple, black almost.

The guilt in Sera was indescribable. It was eating her alive in these last few Months.

It was all her fault; it was a simple punishment that ended in torture. 

“Not much.” Michael answered giving Sera a white rose. “Father wants to see you too.”

You wanted to disappear. The heavy load on your shoulder was too much to handle. 

The hurt of the betrayal from Lucifer was too recent to forget and that your mother showed up is your worst luck.

The pain in your chest spread when you looked finally at you Mother. Feathers all scattered, it seemed she haven’t preened them in a while. 

You miss your wings. 

The walk ended in a huge sky land and pastel clouds were surrounding the area, the light was all centered in one direction where you could see a silhouette. 

A soft tune played. A tune Lucifer used to hum to you when you dozed off on his lap. 

The ghost feelings of his clawed fingers massaging your scalp, not hurting you in the process.

Unwilling tears fell from your eye socket. As much as you wanted to hide your weakened state, you couldn't.

After all that has happened you miss him. 

You missed the Hotel, you missed hell. You missed the time with your friends Husk and Angel.

The soft tune that hummed in the area comforted you in a weird way and a soft way.

A voice called you into the light. 

Don’t go into the light. 

Your mind was screaming at you to run. 

Danger. 

Michael gestures for you to step forward. You wanted to move, but your feet don’t move. The anxiety was filling your lungs making it even harder to breath and stopped every body movement. 

You forced your feet with all your strength just to stand in the light that was a few meters away from you.

“My, My. After all those months and years, I finally can speak to you in person.” You’ve never heard his voice before, but you just know its his. 

His Voice echoed through the wind and in your body through Skull and bones.

The sound of Gods heels meeting the quartz ground was in an even rhythm. As the steps grew closer and closer you found yourself in a panic like state.

What will he do with you? Is he going to kill you or make you his puppet?

A warm but somehow cold finger pushed your chin up and you saw a tall figure with four eyes surrounding its silhouette. 

He has almost the same hat as Lucifer and the same shit eating grin. 

“Poor Child.”

Your eyes twitched; you don’t need any pity from anyone. Not from Leonardo. Not even from God himself.

“I don’t need any of your sympathy.” He only chuckled at your comeback, It interested him indeed.

Even after such a heartbreak you still fought back. “I was almost worried that my son may corrupted you. Michael is a lot to deal with, I must admit.” God lets go of your chin and you almost fell on your knees. 

The sudden weakness surprised you. God snapped with his fingers and the chains broken loose. 

“But I don’t appreciate this type of violence towards my daughter in law. Lucifer wouldn’t be happy to see you in this state darling. So, let’s get you patched up, hm?” This is off. 

Why is he so nice? 

Doesn’t he hate Lucifer? 

Doesn’t he hate you?

God laughed at your cute little misunderstanding. “Oh, my dear I hate nobody. Not even towards Lucifer. I’m just disappointed that this all came so far. You got treated the wrong way because of my recklessly. That’s not how I planned you two to meet.” He sighs, “So answer me one question.” He turned towards you and lifted you up.

The bruises on your body slowly disappeared into your skin. And the pain faded with it.

“What do you desire?”

…

“How do you know we were coming Leonardo?” Lucifer looked with his scarlet eyes into Leonardo’s golden ones. 

“Who wouldn’t save their soulmate. I would, even if it means that I’ll get cast away from heaven. I knew you’d come” Leonardo took few steps forward, but Lucifer stayed on his grounds.

“Tell me Lucifer, what would you do for her?” Lucifer growled. 

He’d do anything for you. 

He wants your back; he needs your back. 

Leonardo lunged at Lucifer with his spear landing a cut above his eyebrow. 

“Fuck.” Lucifer cursed as he tried to find a place for the others to hide. 

There's no escape. 

“Charlie! Find Y/n while I fight him off!”

…

You wanted so much and as soon as these words left none other than God, you found yourself empty headed. “What I desire?” God hummed and looked down at his cane. “Is it money? Or is it something that hides deep inside you dear. I’ll give it to you but choose wise.” Well, that isn’t helping.  

God laughed at your thoughts, sometimes you forget that he could read your thoughts easily. “Let me help you dear.” God stepped forward and folded his hands on your eyes. 

A low glow made you almost slum into a deep sleep. 

But before you could fall into this feeling a loud crash followed and God sighed in frustration. Having children is a bliss but also a stick in the ass. 

Lucifer and Leonardo fought in the air and crashed together in front of Michael who seemed to be amused by the fight. 

“Y/n!” Charlie shouted your name and you turned towards her. “Charlie?!” A happy smile spread on your lips. A little shine of hope burst your heart. “Charlie!”

You ran towards her and threw your arms around her, and Charlie happily hugged you back. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” She said as she squeezed you tightly. “We all were so worried about you!” Angel hugged you from behind, “yeah, the short king almost lost his mind!” you giggled at Angels nickname for Lucifer. 

You were so drowned in your own misery that you’ve forgotten how much you love the others. You always were head stuck on Lucifer that you forgot your drink buddies. 

You break the hug and swipe the tears that escaped your attempt to hid them. 

You watched as Lucifer fought his three brothers. Azrael swung his scythe around his waist to get a better hit on him. The gold blood splattered on the quartz floor, and you hissed at the injured Lucifer who had a huge gash on his chest. 

“I wish I had daughters than sons…” God sighed as he looked at the mess they caused. Gods smile never left his face though.

Leonardo kicked Azrael away with the end of his spear making him land with full force on the quartz floor, ouch. Azrael laid unmoving there and groaned at the back pain. “I’m out.” He said before collapsing on the floor. 

“Why did Leonardo defend dad?” Charlie asked pointing towards Leonardo who stood before Lucifer. “He was always on his side. He just wanted to check if he’s willing to die for Y/n.” God answered and held Azrael under his arm. 

“Now let me take care of this mess.” God let Azrael go and he fell on his stomach. “Really?!” Azrael huffed in anger. 

God levitates down to his sons and they immediate stopped. “As much as I like the reunion, you’re destroying the peace me and Lucifers mate had.” This hurt Michael deep. No not again.

“Really father? You’re defending Lucifer and his soulmate?” Michael gritted his teeth as anger build up in him. After all he has done for his father Lucifer always gets preferred. 

But not with him. 

Michael took the opportunity and flew towards you. You stepped in front of your friends protectively, no one will hurt them. 

Just by your dead body. 

His sword went smoothly through your ribcage right between your heart. Charlie screamed and shouted your name as the sword was in her view. 

The sword went right through you. 

Quite a disturbing beautiful sight. A fallen Seraphim protecting sinners as she gets killed by an Arch Angel.

Lucifer looked in horror and his heart felt like tearing apart. 

He wanted to hold you close but his wings felt like bricks on his back. Every time he tried to fly up to you, he fell lower and lower. And when Michael’s laugh hollowed in Lucifers ears he started to feel immense Anger and rage. 

More than he did last time he fought Michael. 

A monstress growl escaped his sharpened teeth as the fire between his horns grew bigger and more violent. Lucifer felt no empathy as he smashed Michael’s skull to pieces. 

It was the least he could do for you. You were hurt, in despair and he couldn’t help you through it. 

And now Michael took again what was most precious to him. 

You. 

You slumped on to the ground as Michael hold on you stopped and Husk was quick to hold you in his arms.

“Don’t die on me kiddo.” Husk voice broke, the sadness couldn’t hide the truth. 

You’ll die. And nothing can change it. 

Husk pressed plunged the sword out of your chest and replaced it with his hands. 

His power as an overlord was gone, but Lucifer could heal the damage, right? 

The hard breathing broke his heart as he watches you taking his hands softly. “Husky. Promise me-“ you coughed, and blood splattered onto his fur, but Husk didn’t cared. 

“Stop talking, you’ll only use your left power.” Husk pressed deeper onto the wound, but the blood still gushed out at the tiniest hole. You shook your head softly, you’ll die. 

This is your dead end. 

A tear escaped with a few whines, “Promise me to take care of them. Please husk.” Tears met your forehead as you said those words to him. 

Husk cries. 

He actually cries. 

“Don’t say that. You’ll live!” You squeezed his hand as he screamed, one last time and muttered a soft I love you to them all besides Lucifer. 

He wasn’t here with you as your life slowly crept away from your body. 

The dull vessel of your soul just dropped into Husks arms and Husk hugged you close. 

Charlie was a mess. Her crying filled the battlefield and Angel dust was having a complete meltdown. 

Lucifer stopped his Tantrum as he heard Charlies desperate and hurt cries. His body reacted on its own fast and flew towards her and you. 

He fell couple times but tried neither less to get to you two.

Lucifer landed painful on the harsh surface, but he didn’t care. 

He crawled up to your corpse and took it away from Husk as Lucifer hugged you close to him. 

Your usually warm body was now cold, and those live filled eyes were dull and soulless like the void that crept back to him. Before his mind could even collect words, he apologized to you in a mantra. 

He was sorry. 

He wasn’t there when Michael did that to you and Lucifer wasn’t there when you shifted to the dead.

Forgive him.

“Forgive me Apple Pie.”

…

The soft tune played into your mind, painting a picture in it. Flashbacks of your life appeared till you stand in that familiar space with the table and mist. Across the table sat Lucifer but in a light blue and golden appearance.

“Lucifer?” You asked out, your hand twitched. You wanted to feel the golden hair one last time. 

But he was with Lilith, not with you. The bitter truth you avoided, and it hurts you much deeper every time you remembered it. 

Please stop. 

”Y/n?” The way he called out your name and the soften voice that allures you back into the warmth. 

Hot tears burned their way down to the cold stone table. 

What is he doing here? You’re dead right? 

Yes, you miss him very dearly but the betrayal was to recent to just forget it. 

“Just wait for me.” 

You looked at Lucifer, cold. A sting on Lucifers heart but it wasn’t really him. It’s an Image from you and God. And your desire to see him again. 

To hear him at least out, maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe Azrael showed you just mere lies. 

“Even though I am not the Lucifer you desire,” he took your hand softly into his pearly white one, “I can tell that your Lucifer loves you dearly and wouldn’t do that to you.” He smiled up to you and stroked the hot tears from your face. 

“But I am dead Luci, and you- He wasn’t even there with me.” And the fake Lucifer gave your hand a quick squeeze. 

“I’m sure he wanted to. Still a fucking idiot but he was fighting Michael off of you, right? That’s a start.” He chuckled and you huffed. 

The doubts and insecurities were another trap you chose to fall in. Maybe he wanted you dead so he can have Lilith.

“But Lilith is-“ He interrupted you with a soft squeeze on your hand and cheek, “Don’t continue that. Yes, he loved Lilith. But he loves you more. Even though I am just a copy of Lucifer from yours and Gods memories. I love you more than anything. Listen to him not to his bitter twin. Hear it from him and if you’re correct you can be mad all you want.” He let you go and gave you a last smile. 

What does he mean? 

You’re dead, no refund. 

Gone.

“Our time Is up. Choose wise apple pie.” The world around you fade away, “What is your true desire?” you stretched your hands out for Lucifer.

you want to go back to him.

“I want to go back to him. Please.”

The soft tune hummed in your head as light surrounded you. As the light slowly creeped away you felt tears on your neck. 

Your eyes flutter open, and you saw Lucifer face buried into your neck. He hugged you tightly, the thought of dying again because of Lucifer hard grip wasn’t one you were burning for. 

“Lucifer?” You called out his name and he quickly retreated from his favorite place, and he watched perplexed at you. 

“Y/n?” He called out, “Is that really you?” He sounds so broken. You nodded and answered with a short yes. Lucifer held your hand in his left hand and pressed you onto his lips so soft and hard. 

His lips danced around your as sparks flew across your body making you feel butterflies all over your stomach. He kissed like it was his last meal. After seconds of intimate making out, he broke the kiss. 

“Don’t leave me again.”

A/n: Feather of Fate is now Over! (There is an epilogue coming!") Hope you enjoyed the short story.

There will be more! But first I want to concentrate on Scenarios and One Shot, till I feel ready to post another story with our Short King. ❤️

Love y'all Pookies❤️

Special Thank you to @ayanazoldyck, @marydragneell and @avadakadabra93 ❤️

💫

Sadly couldn't Tag you.

And of course thank you all Pookies❤️❤️❤️✨

@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgaters-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift @steadyconnoisseurnacho @crimsonflameproxy @stormz369 @wooleypeaches @fukingsad @starlitvenus @avadakadabra93 @itzabbeym @asmodeussimpnumber1 @sirenetheblogger @k1y0yo @i-have-no-life-charlie @angelicwillows @0puddleofgender0 @fallenh34art @v3r41ynn @froggybich @pank0w @roboticsuccubus83 @littlebear423 @anonymously-ominous @concentratedconcrete

And thank you to my silent readers

Why do I write like this my last day here💀✋🏽

[tkpuke]

Best Mistake

Pairing - Alastor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,015

In which you’re a new member in the Hazbin Hotel trying to redeem yourself. Everyone has made you feel welcomed, you’ve warmed up to everyone, everyone except one. It is no secret that you do not trust him, and Alastor seems to take matters into his own hands and change that.

This is a tickle fic. Do not read if that’s not your thing.

It has only been a month, but you vividly remember how your first day went when entering the doors of Hazbin Hotel. Charlie immediately running up to you with such a tight suffocating hug, asking but almost demanding Angel he takes your bags into your room as she expresses her delight of having you stay.

Staying wasn’t your first option. The idea of a sinner redeeming themself enough to see the pearly white gates of Heaven greet them was almost laughable to you. When you first entered Hell, you thought that you finally reached the end. Made yourself at home and rot yourself away almost like how you did on earth.

One stroll in town is when you saw a commercial advertising Hazbin Hotel. You watched Charlie eagerly tell the purpose of the Hotel as she gives the viewers a thirty second tour, almost losing her breath as she tries to fit in as much information as possible before her timed commercial ends. You weren’t alone watching it, people gathering near you as they whisper to the person next to them their opinions. The majority of the reaction was chuckles here and doubts there. You, admittedly, also had your doubts.

Although, did you really believe you belonged down here? That this was your final ending?

Which brings you back to remembering your first day. Charlie had an iron grip on your hand from her excitement, pulling you to every room in the hotel and showing off its purposes and making sure to not leave any details out. Once an hour went by and she finally finished, she made you meet the staff and other guests individually.

You were a little intimidated by Vaggie, but could tell she will be very sweet once she warms up to you. Angel seemed like the guy that could make you crack out of your shy shell by spending five minutes with him. Husk didn’t say much, but you could tell he likes being here rather than anywhere else. Just don’t call him out on that. Niffty left you guessing if she is twelve or somewhere in her mid 20s, would not be surprised if older than that. Oh and also, her swiftness and pleasure for pain and torturing bugs kept you awake on your first few nights. Sir Pentious looks naturally suspicious, but he was actually very nice when greeting and you asked him a little about his egg minions.

“Aaaannd the last person I want to introduce you to is…!” Charlie sing song, bringing you down the halls in search for her last friend she has yet for you to meet. She opens a door, assuming to yourself that’s their room as she peeks her head in a little. You waited behind her, rubbing your neck a little as sudden goosebumps were felt. Charlie turned around after not having much luck finding him in there, but quickly gasped when she looked behind you.

“Alastor! There you are!”

You froze in place for a few seconds as the name fell upon your ears. Alastor. Alastor. You inhaled deeply, slowly turning around and almost having to crane your neck to make visible of the face smiling down at you, arms behind his back and small radio statics being played. Every hair on your body stood up, forgetting to blink when you two locked eyes for a good solid minute.

Count yourself as scared shitless.

You came back to reality, stepping back to keep a good distance between you two but went for a small tumble. “Woah, I got you!” Charlie giggled, catching you before you could fall. Unaware of the now fear written all over your body, she continues on by gesturing her hand towards the seven foot demon.

“Y/N, this is Alastor. Alastor, this is Y/N. Our new guest!”

He sticks his hand out towards you for a handshake, but all you could do was stare at his red claws that looks like he’s been sharpening them every five minutes. Alastor took your hand, knowing he would be standing there all day if he let you willingly shake it.

“Don’t leave me hanging, dear! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N.” You knew awkward silences went by after that, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand interlacing with yours. You just want to get the hell out of here and run far, far away from this hotel and never look back. You knew there would be regrets when you gave this hotel a chance.

Okay, this was actually your first time meeting Alastor, but his stories were no stranger to you. Recalling back when hearing those horrifying, blood-curdling screams being broadcasted on the radio for all to hear as if it was a fair warning, people begin telling you the man responsible behind all of it. You wished later on you’d never asked, The thought of The Radio Demon selecting you as his next victim crawling into your dreams which turned to nightmares. Of course, you know that chance is slim, but is never zero. Down in Hell, you just don’t know what the fuck kind of trouble you’ll find yourself in.

Now having a face to the name, he completely became a new wave of terrifying to you. The red claws you observed earlier sent a shiver down your spine. Those pointy yellow teeth that you swear on Lucifer he’s put to good use. Bonus points for his tall, lanky figure which practically makes him towering over you so easily.

What you did not expect, though, was his strange resemblance to a deer. The antlers and, also, are those ears? Funnily enough, it kind of made him less scary. Almost. Not really.

Ever since your first interaction with him, you weren’t dumb understanding that he right off the bat knows your lack in trust and feeling unsafe around him. You would often walk down the halls being paranoid that eyes were watching you intently, eyes belonging to Alastor but had no further proof it really was him.

At certain times, you were convinced the demon was toying with how you felt by saying things to you that definitely came off creepy, but could never accuse him of doing it purposefully when he smiles like there’s no tomorrow. He always looks at you harmlessly, but you’d be a fool to take that as a sign to let your guard down. Every conversation he picks up with you ends short on your end, pretending you have somewhere else to be.

That somewhere being away from him.

Everyone knew the relationship you stand with him. Some didn’t blame you, especially Vaggie. Others, like Charlie, tried her best to ease your worries.

“Alastor is a great friend, Y/N! Just give him a chance.” She would say to you on most days, but it was gonna take more than believing someone’s word for you.

So, bless her, Charlie decided to come up with a trust activity exercise.

“Charlie, I appreciate you trying but I don’t see how this will make a difference…” You say as she rounds everybody up, some sitting and some standing. Charlie waves a dismissive hand. “Not with that attitude it won’t!” Her confidence is quite admirable, something in which you lack greatly.

She went over the jist of the activity, it being pretty simple. Everyone gets a turn to stand on a table and fall backwards, trusting everyone behind them that they will catch you with no hesitation. It seems easy, but once you are up there doubts will for sure start flooding your mind.

It’s called trust fall. A game you remembered playing when you were in middle school, to test your friends on their trust. However, to put this test on a seven foot demon with a horrifying reputation that all of Hell is aware of? Yeah, you wish you could count yourself out of this one.

One by one, everyone went up on top of the table and fell into the arms of those whose duty was to catch them. Some fell as soon as they climbed on top without letting second thoughts get a chance to swoop in their mind, while others took a little bit of reassurance.

Once it was your turn, you did one last pleading look towards Charlie, but she gave you two thumbs up and gestured for you to go. Sighing, you made your way up and looked down at everyone having their arms up and ready. Your eyes looked over to the middle, there Alastor standing nice and tall with his signature grin. A grin you want to see drop at least once.

As you turned your back, you didn’t hear everyone scoot back and have Alastor the only one standing near the table, in range of catching you easily. You took a couple of seconds to yourself to ease your breathing, because you are embarrassingly afraid of heights, but then you let yourself fall.

Arms slide past under yours, fingers resting on your sides as your back hit against a chest. The first thing that clouded your mind was how it felt like only one person catch you, but the next thing on your mind was how you suddenly felt fingers dig a little in your sides, pulling a small squeal from you as you quickly turn around to view the culprit.

Alastor stared down at you, feigning cluelessness. He clapped his hands together, ignoring your confused yet questionable stare at him. “Now! That wasn’t so hard was it, darling?” Vaggie nodded slightly in agreement, while Charlie ran over and gave you a big hug and excitedly expressing how proud she was of you.

Yet, you are still stuck on the question what just happened right after you fell. Every time you look over at him, he just smiles your way innocently, making you second guess yourself on what you truly felt.

You weren’t crazy. You knew exactly what he did, and he damn well knows it too, but it still feels so unlikely to happen.

Ever since the trust activity happened, which has now been a full week, Alastor seems to be playing a one sided game with you. A game that leaves you frustrated yet confused on what he’s gaining from it.

You’ll find yourself reaching for an item placed high on a shelf. Alastor will come strolling along, offering to give you a helping hand, and in the midst of doing so you’ll feel a ticklish breeze near your ribs. Now, the breeze would feel so similarly like fingers dancing along your ribs, their intent to send a ticklish wave throughout your body. Hence you turning with a glare, but Alastor would simply ignore the face you’d be making and hand you the item you’ve been trying to reach.

Another time you felt the same breeze is when you ultimately made a bad decision thinking you could fit into a hoodie that definitely wasn’t your size. You saw it displayed in a store when you decided to take a walk downtown, immediately calling your name. It was so cute in your eyes, despite realizing it wasn’t your true size you usually get clothes in, you wanted to give it a try.

Now, you noticed it was a grand mistake and a waste of money when the tightness it held around your body was starting to get unbearable. What you weren’t expecting, though, was how it didn’t budge any further when you rolled it up and couldn’t get it over your head, blocking your eyes.

You didn’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed that Alastor was walking down the halls during that time. A blessing, because he saw your poor state and undoubtedly offered to help. A curse, because you felt that damn ticklish breeze along your ribs in the midst of him helping you out, a yelp of surprise leaving your lips.

“There we are!” He exclaimed heartily, tossing the hoodie to the side and watching you fix your ruffled up hair but also eyeing him skeptically. “What was that?” You asked, but it almost sounded like an accusation because you damn well knew what caused it.

“What was what, dear?” He beamed, raising an eyebrow with arms crossed behind. You stared for a couple of seconds, not knowing whether to sound like a lunatic explaining what’s been happening for the last couple of days whenever he’s around, or to let it slide once again. Unfortunately, you were already feeling exhausted and were in the middle of heading to bed, so you waved a dismissive hand.

“Nothing, nothing.”

It kept you on your toes. Always checking your surroundings when walking around outside of your room, it got Angel questioning to Vaggie if someone’s out to get you by how paranoid you look.

You knew how stupid you looked to others, because you haven’t talked about any of what’s happening to you with any of them. You thought they would either laugh and say your imagining things, which you weren’t guilty of also thinking the same, or they would confront the overlord himself. If anything, you were at your wits end. You were considering doing the latter yourself, because it really has you on edge.

And so, you did.

One thing that you like to spend your free time on is painting. Painting anything that’s in front of you or whatever idea you had in mind that day. It could also depend on your mood, and for this particular Tuesday afternoon you felt quite peaceful. Your hands were almost as dirty as your palette, sticking your tongue out a bit whenever you were focused and gently dragging the paintbrush across the paper.

Your peace filled mind abruptly vanished when ears picked up on a familiar humming and distant blue jazz playing on a radio. It didn’t take long for you to put the hum to a name, looking over your shoulder but he was already behind you.

You gasped, his sudden appearance startling you. Standing up a bit too fast caused your easel to tip slightly and send your paper flying down, but luckily Alastor caught it and brought it up high to fully view the painting in front of him.

“You never told me you paint, dearie! I’m certain this will turn out marvelous once you’re finished.” His eyes look up for a response, but you’re standing like it’s a predator vs prey fight. Nervousness written all over you, hands out to defend yourself.

“Don’t you dare.” You say, making him tilt his head and squint his eyes a little. “Don’t I dare what?” His smile tightens, but you swore up and down its a smirk laced with nothing but mischief behind it. He’s being a little shit acting oblivious, and he damn well knows it.

“You know what!” You raised your voice a little, trying to sound intimidating but if he keeps staring down at you like he’s about to pounce, you might shrink in fear. Alastor takes a step forward, and you take a step back.

“Oohh sweetheart, whatever do you mean?” He’s got you backed into a wall, which staggers your confidence. Nonetheless, you gulped away any indication you’re feeling quite rather terrified, as anyone else would, and stand a little taller. “Don’t act dumb, Alastor.” The radio demon hummed as if he was collecting any memory of what could possibly trouble you, which made your eye twitch.

“Ah! Do you mean this?” Bringing his hands forward, Alastor danced his fingers alongside your ribs, instantly having the same vibe as the breeze you’ve been feeling. You barely had any chance to react and defend yourself, immediately grabbing his wrists as tightly as you can to tear them away. It did absolutely nothing, by the way.

Being tickled by an overlord was not on your list of things that could happen down at your time in hell. If anyone were to tickle you at the hotel, Alastor wouldn’t even be one of your top three guesses. Him sending those ticklish breezes your way, knowing how easily it got you to squeal and feel embarrassed. Knowing how it kept you on your toes around him, but still not so sure of yourself if it really was him responsible for it. Knowing how easily it can get under your skin.

He tsked at your hands gripping onto his wrists, his tendrils making an appearance and snatching them away, making your entire torso fully vulnerable. However, he did not continue on with his attack and instead watched you struggle a little, chuckling under his breath.

“Why are yohou doing this?” You say, a nervous giggle tittering out because anyone would be a fool to think his onslaught ends there. Alastor traces his fingers alongside your neck up till it reaches under your chin, which tickles like hell.

“You’ve been far too tensed recently, and there should be none of that.” A calm tone in his voice, acting like he’s not about to bring you into a breathless mess. “And you think what you’ve been doing to me over the last couple of days was making me less tense?” You shot a glare, but it bounced right off of him.

Shrugging his shoulders, Alastor tiptoed his fingers on your tricep all the way down to right on the soft spot of your underarms, causing you to violently jolt. “I thought my little game was helping, with all your delightful short squeals you’ve been giving me. hmm, what does it sound like again?”

His fingers, more like claws, resting on your underarms started scratching, not disappointing him when you squealed just like he predicted. Alastor pressed his fingers in a little deeper, searching for a more boisterous laugh. Your true real laugh that you’ve been choking back lately because of how badly it made you feel insecure.

You did not fail him with his goal. You laughed a little harder and tugged on the restraints on your wrists a little harder, but wherever you move, his hands follow. “I must say Y/N, your laugh is like music to my ears. Shall we have everyone else listen?” He sways his radio stick closer to you, but you shake your head desperately.

“Nohoho! Plehehease!” It was a little humiliating, but you were already getting close to your limit. On earth, friends and family recognized how you were more ticklish than the average person. You were a regular victim to tickle fights with your close loved ones, always yelling truce within five minutes. In this situation, you were a little hesitant that begging would translate to him ‘continue’.

Yet, luck was on your side since Alastor took notice you were already having slight tears mirth your eyes. Regardless, he didn’t plan on doing this for very long from the get-go. The whole thing of him brushing his hands against your sides during the trust fall was a honest mistake, but when Alastor picks up on weaknesses that people have, he puts a pin on it and takes advantage of it later down the road for his own good use. Tickling was something Alastor learned was a common weakness for most people, but the other half people rather enjoyed the feeling and the bond it creates.

For you, he already found out it was the second preference. You will never in a million years admit to it, but this entire thing seemed kind of playful to you. The kind of playful you haven’t experienced in so long. Haven’t laughed genuine in so long, and have all your ticklish spots exploited when the reason behind it is for all in good fun. And oh, to be a teasy asshole. He’s doing great in that field.

“Such a sensitive being you are. Have you always known you were this ticklish?” To be honest, you kind of wished he would stop talking. You can’t explain it, but it made everything tickle ten times worse. He’s aware. Of course he is.

You felt his hands travel to every spot that can be ticklish, quickly catching on he was in search for that one spot that can make you go ballistics. “Alastor, wahahait..” you stopped struggling awhile ago, realizing it brought you no use. He yet again ignored your giggly pleas, fueling him to keep going. The more his hands traveled down almost near your hips, the more you start to get nervous and newfound energy kicking in to pull your body away from him.

He catches on.

His next movement happened so fast, you swear it all went down in a blink. The minute he latched onto your hips, you let out a snort, cheeks forming a tint of pink. The tendrils finally release your wrists, at the same time Alastor switched up the pace and drilled his thumbs in a motioning circle. Your legs didn’t stand a chance to support you up, immediately crashing down but he did not follow.

You laid there for a moment, greedily sucking in sweet air to the point you almost thought you saw Heaven itself. When you felt like you collected yourself, you slowly sat up and moved a couple of strands away from your face to view Alastor, looming over you with his widest grin yet in his books. “Bad spot?” He tilts his head down at you, and in response you huff and roll your eyes. He lends you his hand, looking at it hesitantly before taking it. “Come now, let’s get you on your feet.”

You brushed yourself off, finding your painting propped up neatly back on the easel. Alastor follows your eyes, coming to stand next to you. “If you add a pop of red into the sunset you’re creating, I’d say it would almost look like I’m viewing out from a window. What do you say?” Raising an eyebrow, you look up at him. “Do you know how to paint?”

Alastor beams. “Not at all.”

You chuckle at that, picking up the palette and switching to a new freshly blank paper. Picking up a second paintbrush, you handed it over to the demon. “Here, I’ll teach you.”

Teaching wasn’t your strong suit, or either Alastor was seriously terrible at painting. Either way, you guys shared a couple of laughs, listened to any stories he got reminded of along the way, gladly listening. The finished product was suppose to be anything his heart desires to paint of, and after examining it for a few seconds you felt the need to ask what the hell you were looking at. To him, it’s him and his mother enjoying a warm meal of jambalaya while sitting on their front porch. To you, it’s just a big blob of bright colors, but the more you squint the more you start to see his vision and let out a small smile.

The guilt of judging him way too harshly off the bat started to set in. You tried not to blame yourself too much, because if anyone heard the tales and myths you’ve been hearing about The Radio Demon, anyone would jump at the sight of him. Although, there’s one thing you always believed in people: Second Chances.

If everyone at the hotel did not see a problem with not only having him stay, but having him help out a tremendous amount to have Hazbin live up to its full potential, then that must mean they all put a lot of trust in the guy. Charlie specifically, and although people might say she’s naive, she’s not dumb. If putting full trust in Alastor was a mistake, she would’ve taken care of that a long time ago.

However, trust is a sensitive topic for you. Alastor has a long way of achieving that, but for now the time you’re spending with him is something you’ll smile to yourself later tonight.

Maybe The Hazbin Hotel has already started to redeem some qualities of yourself you thought you would never get to see.

[javiscigarette]

Just Focus on My Love

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Frankie just thinks there are better things to do than play a silly video game called Stardew Valley (or a very self-indulgent sweet baby boy Frankie fic)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only!! No use of Y/N smut duh, oral (f receiving), a bit of body/pussy worship, fingering, squirting, spitting, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, he adds a finger just for funsies, creampie, cum play, frankie loves to run his mouth when he's horny, also I know this man has killed people but he is just a baby

Word count: 4k

A/N: Inspired by Focus by miss Charli xcx!! Also this is dedicated to all the real gamers out there who play Stardew. May your crops flourish. Also this may secretly be the first part of a lil series I'm cookin up but you didn't hear that from me!

Frankie finds you on the sectional in the basement in full veg mode. You’re sitting in the corner of the couch with your legs stretched out on the cushions in front of you with the lights down low.

You’re playing the same game you’ve been playing for months now, the game Frankie is slowly starting to despise. He had actually been the one to suggest finishing the basement and creating this little sanctuary for you to play video games.

But he didn't think about how if you started spending more time curled up playing your games, that would be less time spent with him.

“Babyyy” Frankie whines from where he’s standing near the foot of the couch, at the end of your outstretched legs. 

“Hi, Francisco” you reply calmly, not taking your eyes off the screen.

Frankie takes that as an invitation. 

You pause the game and giggle as he climbs on the couch before ungraciously collapsing on top of you. He rests his head on your chest that’s covered with one of his t-shirts. 

“Don’t distract me, Frankie” you say firmly between little giggles while he gets comfy. 

“No promises.”

He snakes his arms around you, trapping his forearms between your waist and the couch cushion You roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck to hold your control behind his head. You unpause and go back to the game and Frankie gives you almost five whole minute before he sighs again. 

“You’ve been down here for hours, bebita. What even is this game? Skyblue Valley? ” Frankie groans. 

“Stardew Valley. And I told you I’m so close to finishing the community center and I want it done this weekend” 

Frankie grumbles again and turns his head to look at you straight on, his chin resting on your chest, his face inches away from your’s. 

“But I’m bored and we should be spending time together. Strengthening our bond, yanno” 

You snort at that. 

“Strength of our bond?” 

“Yeah! Quality time! One of the love languages.” 

“Frankie, baby, we spent the whole day together. And as soon as I’m done with this we’ll spend the rest of the night together”

“C’mon, cariño.” Frankie whines.

He shifts around again until suddenly there’s some pressing hard against the front of your hip. It’s not surprising - Frankie can’t keep his hands off of you. He’s needy too, requiring almost the same amount of your attention that a 3-month old puppy would.

“Not gonna work, Francisco. You’ve gotta try harder than that” you say plainly, keeping your eyes glued to the screen. 

You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. 

Frankie immediately sees the challenge and lunges at it like a rabid dog. He narrows his eyes at you, his lips curling up in a mischievous smirk. 

“Frankie…” you try to warn him, already seeing exactly where this is going.

“Just keep playing your game, hermosa” Frankie says calmly, turning his head to rest his cheek on your chest again. 

He moves to unpin his arm from underneath you and starts to fiddle with the hem of your (his) shirt. The cotton is soft and worn, just like all the other shirts and sweaters that you’ve stolen from him.

He never complains, not even when half of his clothes end up on your side of the closet. He loves seeing you in them, seeing how they fit on your body, how they smell like you at the end of the day. He can never get enough. 

He slips his fingers under the hem and traces the pads of his fingers over the smooth skin of your stomach and your hips. It’s mindless, the way his hands roam your body, tracing paths that he’s traced millions of times before. 

He gets lost in it for a few minutes. He shuts his eyes and lets his hand drift all over you like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel under his fingers and his palms. It’s soothing for him too. Grounds him and reminds him that you’re real and you’re here. 

His palm is hot on your skin, leaving a burning trail as it roams your body, sliding over every square inch of skin that he can reach. It’s a simple and fairly innocent gesture, but you already feel something swirling in your tummy. 

Eventually Frankie remembers his mission and gets back to work. 

He slowly slides his palm from your rib cage down the front of you until just his fingertips dip under the elastic waistband of your sweatpants. He doesn’t stay there for long before sliding his hand back up to where he started at your rib cage. He repeats the process a few times, his fingers sliding further and further under your waistband. 

He looks up at you but you’re still unbothered, completely focused on your game. Internally, it's a completely different story. You’ve been wet since the moment he laid down and you can feel the damp cotton of your panties sticking to your core. He always gets you going like that. But you genuinely did want to finish this. And more importantly, you wanted to see what Frankie has up his sleeve. 

He pushes himself up until he’s sitting between your legs with enough room to slide your pants off, pulling your underwear down too in the same motion. Frankie parts your knees, slowly spreading you open and revealing your wet seam. His cock lurches almost painfully and he whispers “Jesus christ” to himself at the sight of your pussy already swollen and glistening without him even properly touching you. 

He settles between your legs once again, laying on his abdomen with your dripping cunt inches from his face. 

He takes his sweet time though and scatters sweet kisses on your inner thighs. He can’t help but stop every so often to nibble and suck at the smooth skin, leaving fresh red marks among the fading ones that he gave you yesterday and the day before and the day before that. 

He feels your muscles twitch under his lip and he glances up at you, but you’re still focused on your game. Damned and determined, he slowly kisses his way up your thigh and stops when his face is inches away from your burning core. 

With no further preamble, and because he can’t wait any longer, he dives right in. 

And he’s fucking ravenous with it. 

He flattens his tongue and groans into you as soon as the taste of you touches his tongue. He licks you from your leaking hole up to your clit before taking the swollen nub between his lips. He takes his time, sucking on your clit and flicking it with the tip of his tongue before letting go and licking back down to your hole where he dips his tongue inside, his head going dizzy when he feels you clench around his tongue. And the sound of it is crude, the sucking and slurping and his ragged gasps for air as he dinks you down and feasts on you. 

He’s greedy too. He spreads your lips open with his thumb and forefinger, holding you open so he can plunge his tongue inside of you as far as he possibly can with his nose bumping against your clit and he groans deeply into you again when he feels you clench around his tongue. 

Your eyelids flutter and your eyebrows draw together while your eyes roll back a bit. With a quick sideways glance, you see him with his eyes closed as he loses himself in you. Every bone in your body wants to sing but you bite back your moans, determined not to give in so easily.

Frankie takes his mouth off of you with a wet pop. He’s breathing heavily, delightfully out of breath. You haven’t paused your game yet, but your hands are motionless on the controller. Your chest is heaving with quick breaths and your bottom lip is red and puffy from you gnawing at it while you try to bite back your moans. 

He’s almost there. 

Frankie knows what makes you tick. He has spent hours and hours between your legs mapping out every inch of you and carefully studying your reaction to his every touch until he memorized every single little thing that made you shake and squirm and scream. 

So that’s why he uses both thumbs to spread you open before spitting onto your already dripping seam and listens happily to the groan he knew you would let out. He doesn't even bother looking up at you when you make a noise. He’s too enamored with watching the way his spit glides down your cunt before settling around your pulsating hole. With his mouth watering, he latches back onto you. 

And he’s messy with it. He buries his face in your pussy, overindulging in the way your slick leaks out onto his tongue and drips down his chin, moving his face side to side and smearing it all over his beard and your inner thighs until you’re both a mess.   

You’re quickly losing this battle and like clockwork, your thighs start to tremble just slightly. 

He’s got you right where he wants you.

He unwraps an arm from where it’s locked around your thigh and brings his hand up between your legs. With no warning, he sinks two thick fingers inside of you. He moans loudly against you when you gasp, your back reflexively arching and your hips grinding up against his face. 

Finally, you surrender and toss your controller to the side and grip onto Frankie’s fluffy curls instead. 

You moan his name, the sweetest sound on Earth Frankie thinks, as you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his face impossibly closer into you and hold him in place there. Frankie doesn't miss a beat and sucks your clit in between his lips as he steady pumps his fingers in and out of you. He hums in delight, tingles running from his scalp down his spine and to his toes as you start to rock your hips against his face. The vibrations of his sounds against your core cause hot flames to start licking at the base of your spine. 

Despite your fingers tugging harshly in his hair, he pulls back from you just enough to mumble “Ride it, cariño. Ride my fuckin’ face,” his voice raspy and breathless before latching back onto your aching core. 

You listen to him because why the fuck would you not. You tighten your grip in his hair, and his jaw goes slack as you start to rock your hips up off the couch and back down again, sliding your dripping cunt up and down his awaiting tongue. 

Frankie could die happy right now. He moans when your thighs squeeze either side of his head while your hand on the back of his head keeps his face pressed into you so firmly he can't get a good breath. But he’d rather pass out than move an inch away from you right now. And the sounds he’s making are obscene, his muffled grunts and groans and whimpers going straight to your lower abdomen where the pressure of your impending orgasm is quickly multiplying. 

Everything feels so perfect, his fingers rhythmically sliding in and out of your pulsating hole, expertly stretching you out and filling you up as you hold onto his hair for dear life and ride his tongue, letting his scruffy beard scrape deliciously against your inner thighs. 

Frankie knows you’re close, he can hear the way your moans are quickly growing more and more desperate and can feel you clamping down around his fingers.  It’s time for his final move.

He pushes his fingers inside of you as deep as he can get and instead of pulling them out again, he keeps them in place and curls them upward. The sound you make is angelic and Frankie’s cock twitches hard from where it’s pinned against the couch cushion. He hasn’t paid a single ounce of attention to his throbbing length. And he doesn’t want to. He wants to, needs to devote himself entirely to your pleasure, so fucking desperate to feel you come underdone under his tongue. 

He breathes heavily through his nose as your hips start building up speed as you grind against his mouth. He keeps working his tongue while repeatedly pressing the tips of his fingers into your g-spot until there’s no more air in your lungs and your head is fucking spinning.  

It starts in your hips, the way your pace falters lets Frankie know what’s about to happen. He doubles down on his efforts and his eyes roll back when your thighs start shaking violently on either side of his head. 

“Frankieee” you whine, your nails starting to scrape against his scalp. He gives you a low and throaty growl a nonverbal way of saying “I’ve got you, let go for me. Give it to me, please baby” 

And you do. 

Your orgasm crashes down on you, knocking all the air out of your lungs as every muscle tenses in your body. Frankie doesn’t stop, not for one second, even when you start to gush around his fingers. The groan he lets out is animalistic, as you squirt against his face, your juices pouring down his hands and dripping down his face and chin onto the couch below him. 

You buck your hips and squirm underneath him as your pussy clenches with each wave of pleasure but he keeps his mouth glued to you, drinking you down. He can’t get enough. He keeps lapping at you, trying not to waste a single drop but it’s impossible with how hard you came. 

He keeps going as you ride it out, just basking in the noises you’re making and the feeling of your fingers tugging sharply at his hair, never wanting this to end. 

But your intense pleasure is fading away and sensitivity is starting to quickly replace it. You let him have his fill for a few more seconds as he desperately laps up everything you gave him. But it quickly becomes too much and you start to push him away. With a pitiful whine, he pulls back reluctantly and rests his head on your thigh. 

But you’re an absolute sight to behold in front of him. Your inner thighs and your puffy cunt are drenched, so messy and wet with a small wet spotunder the couch from your juices that Frankie couldn't lick up. Your inner thighs are rubbed red from his beard and there are crescent marks on the top of your thigh where Frankie was gripping you. 

“You’re so fucking sexy” Frankie whispers, watching your cunt clench weakly around his fingers as he slowly slides them out of you, moaning quietly as a small amount of liquid dribbles out of you and onto the couch. 

He tries to give you a break so you can catch your breath. But you’re just as impatient as he is. So you card your fingers through his hair before tugging slightly, a small mewl slipping past your lips. 

Frankie looks up to meet your gaze and raises an eyebrow when he sees the desperation still clouding your eyes. You just look back at him and whine pathetically but he knows exactly what you want. 

He doesn't tease you, doesn’t even mention the fact that your game is unpaused on the TV. Because he’s fucking needy too. And there’s a wet spot on the front of his briefs from where he was leaking precum while he was grinding mindlessly against the couch as he ate you out to prove it. 

And now, with you looking like this, he needs you bad. 

Without saying anything and keeping his eyes fixed on you, Frankie wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like he just finished eating a fucking 5 course meal and stands up from the couch to quickly shed off all his clothes. But he moves too fast though and hits his shin on the coffee table. You hiss and grimace at the sight but he barely reacts to the pain before kneeling back down on the couch between your legs again. 

Your mouth waters when you see his cock, impossibly hard and angry red, the tip wet and shiny with precum as it bobs between his legs, thick and heavy. 

“Gonna let me have you, cariño?” Frankie asks through a gravelly grumble before spitting in his hand and coating his cock in it as if you needed any more lubrication. It can’t hurt though, Frankie is thick and no matter how wet you are or how many times you take him, he stretches you out with a delicious burn. Every. Single. Time. 

“Yes Frankie, I’m please I need it, fuck” you whine. 

Frankie shushes you and lines himself up at your entrance, his fat tip pressing against your aching hole. You try to roll your hips up but he brings his free hand down to your hip, effectively pinning you in place with one broad palm. 

“Just take it, baby,” Frankie whispers. “Let me give it to you.” 

With a heavy sigh, Frankie pushes into you. He tries to go slowly, but you’re so wet that he sinks in with ease and it doesn’t help that your greedy cunt is practically sucking him in. He bottoms out with a broken moan and brings his other hand to grip your hip. 

You’re a mess underneath him, keening and moaning freely as your walls clench wildly around him. You know he’s not going to last long and being so close to the tailend of your last orgasm, there’s not much hope for you either. 

But Frankie is going to take as much as he possibly can from you. 

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size and the feeling of being stuffed full of him. The stretch burns pleasantly as your walls flutter around him. 

“F-Frankie, fuck you feel so good s-so fucking deep, baby” you babble in between moans and gasps for air. 

He tightens his grip on your hips as he pulls out halfway and drives back into you. His cock throbs inside of you at the sound of your moan. 

“I know, baby.” Frankie sighs. “But you take it so well. Always take it so well. Letting me stretch your perfect little pussy out, huh? Such a good girl making room inside in that sweet cunt for my thick fuckin cock, letting me fill you up. Your fucking perfect, cariño. So fucking good, I’m so lucky”  

Sweet, sweet Frankie. The human embodiment of a basket of puppies that runs his mouth and fills your head with filthy words behind closed doors.

Frankie knows he should give you more time to adjust to his size, but he can’t help himself. He starts to build up a steady pace, not wanting to waste a single second of being inside you, grunting at every beautiful sound you make. 

You just lay there and take it, moaning at the feeling of him splitting you in half as he pounds into you, desperately chasing after his own orgasm. 

He slides his hands down from your hips to your inner thighs before prying them apart and pinning your legs to the couch, leaving your pussy on full display for him. He lets out a strained moan when he sees the way your lips are gripping him as he pulls out and sucking back in as he slams back into you. 

“M’not gonna last long, baby” Frankie pants with his eyes glued to where your bodies are connected. You’re already hurtling towards your second orgasm but you manage to fight the overwhelming pleasure that’s rooting itself in your bones again to open your eyes and look up at him. You’re presented with the most gorgeous sight of Frankie fucking  you with no regard. His curls are flopping down in front of his eyes as he stares at where he’s disappearing inside of you, his jaw is slack and hanging open, and his heaving chest is starting to glisten with sweat. 

“Mmmm cum inside, Frankie. I wanna feel it” you moan when you feel his hips stutter.

He grunts before dragging his eyes up your body from your wet pussy to your blown out pupils. He stares into your eyes for just a few seconds as he keeps fucking into you. 

Then he winks at you. 

Knowing that can only mean trouble, you watch him with bated breath. He drops his gaze back to where he’s pounding into you. His eyes twinkle with curiosity as he moves one hand from your thigh and brings it to your mouth. 

He gives you just one finger, slips his index finger past your lips and watches intently as you swirl your tongue around his digit, getting it wet with your spit. When he’s satisfied, he pulls it out and brings it back down to your core. 

He slows down a bit and you gasp when he traces where he’s stretching you out with his wet finger. 

“Think you can take a little more?” Frankie asks, looking up at you while continuing to prod at your stretched entrance. 

“Yes” you moan, not giving it a second thought because if Frankie thinks you can, then you know you can. 

“Thank you, cariño” Frankie whispers.

You give him a weak nod and try to suppress the whimper that’s bubbling up in your throat when he stops moving until he’s still inside of you. 

You do whimper, well more of a strangled moan, when he starts to work his finger covered in your saliva into you, right alongside his thick cock. 

“Holy shit” you cry out, one of your hands flying up to claw at his bicep. 

“Is it too much?” Frankie asks, his eyebrows drawn together in concern as he tries to read your facial expressions and your body language. 

You shake your head fervently and squeeze your eyes shut. 

“N-no, keep going” you pant. “Feels so good, Frankie, please keep going.” 

And because Frankie is trained to follow commands so well, he keeps pushing his finger inside of you, cursing under his breath as you squeeze around his finger and his cock. 

“Jesus christ, baby” Frankie hisses as he starts fucking into you again. 

With the added thickness of his finger (which is ridiculously thick by itself), you genuinely feel like his ripping you open in the best way possible. You can’t hold on for much longer and the sounds he’s pulling out of you are insane and as he delivers you into the awaiting arms of your second orgasm. 

“C’mon, baby. Can feel every fucking inch of you squeezing me” Frankie huffs as he continues to plow into you. “Soak my cock, baby please. I wanna see it this time.” 

There's a long moan of his name and the sound of it bounces around in his head before traveling as a tingle down his spine. He watches you in amazement as you lift your hips off the couch as you start to gush around him again. He doesn’t stop pounding into you though. And the sensation of your slick leaking out around his finger and his cock and sliding down his to his palm and his balls as you clench around him is too fucking much. 

His own body takes him by surprise, his hips faltering as he starts to cum inside you with no warning. He grunts loudly as he empties himself inside of you and it’s so much that he can’t remember the last time he came this hard. 

The two of you stay there for a minute, just trying to catch your breath. Frankie starts to go soft and once the stretch isn’t so much, he slowly slides his cock and and finger out of you. He groans softly in his throat and watches with heavy eyelids as his cum, mixed with your own release, starts to leak out of you, adding to the dark spot on the couch from earlier.

As if he’s on autopilot, Frankie mindlessly gathers his cum that’s seeping out of you on two of his fingers before he pushes them back inside of you. He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, marveling at the way your hole leaks around them until you whimper and squirm at the overstimulation. 

He carefully removes his fingers and slides them into his own mouth because he can never get enough of you. Never ever. You watch with hooded eyes and a dopey smile as he licks your slick and his cum off his fingers, closing his eyes and making a small noise in his throat as he does so. 

He takes his fingers out of his mouth with a strand of saliva briefly and obscenely connecting his tongue to his fingers. He opens his eyes and gives you a goofy grin, too entirely pleased with himself. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. He laughs through his nose when you eagerly lick into his mouth in an attempt to get a second hand taste. 

After a playful bite to your bottom lip, he pulls back to look at you. 

“You’re greedy” Frankie teases with a smirk. “And messy” he adds when he looks down to the wet spot on the couch. 

The same couch that the two of you bought a couple months ago because ironically, your old couch was starting to collect some stubborn stains. Frankie knows you’ll give him shit about it later and will probably be the one on his knees cleaning the cushion in a few minutes, but he doesn’t care one bit. 

“Don’t even try, Morales” you say with a chuckle and an eye roll. 

Frankie giggles sweetly before ducking down to give you another quick kiss. He then straightens up and turns his head to look over his shoulder at the TV. He turns back to look at you with a shiteating grin. 

“You left it unpaused” he tries to say plainly, but the glee is evident in his voice.

He won. 

Your face drops from sated to stressed as you look over at the TV screen and see that the game has advanced three more days while Frankie was playing with you. 

“Francisco Morales!” you shout, reaching behind you to grab a pillow and throw it at him. He scrambles off the couch and runs away cackling before you can hit him.

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 1/?

STORY 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26, PART 27, UPDATE

We're finally here! I hope this sequel makes you feel the same excitement the first one gave you. I know I'm excited.

To the new readers, please read STORY 1 first for better understanding of how we got to this point. Trust me, it's important plus! It's a pretty awesome prequel if I do say so myself.

To the readers who have been there since I posted part 1, I hope I make you proud too!

Let's go!

HOOK: A LUCIFER CENTRIC AU - AO3

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

Previously:

A powerful explosion lit up the sky. The sky split in two and fire appeared high and wide over Pride. At that moment, everyone became so hot that they couldn't bear it, as if their whole body was on fire. They wanted to rip their skin off just to get a sense of relief but then the sky shut closed. A strong thump was heard by every demon in the vicinity and then they were all thrown a few meters.

It felt like an eternity before Charlie and the others could get their bearings. Those that didn't get knocked out went outside, once there, they see Lucifer far up in the sky, holding up a flaming sword. The signature pentagram of the city has been fractured by whatever happened and demons all around were either hurt or unconscious.

Charlie: Dad!

Charlie calls out to her dad but he doesn't acknowledge her. His gaze never leaving Heaven, as if he's seeing something that no one else can.

A screen locked on Hell zooms out as the machine's voice rang out 'target disengaged'.

An angel looking similarly to Lucifer, except there's blue tints on the spots where Lucifer had reds, was looking down at Hell pulling back a large, golden gun. They blew the smoke residue and sighed.

Michael: Hello, Lucifer... Still causing trouble, I see.

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

Lucifer lands on the now burnt soil of Pride trying to keep his composure calm as those who were not knocked out by the blast panic once again.

His jaw clenched so tightly that the muscles strained against the skin, teeth grinding together like stones. He tightens his grip on Lightbringer, knuckles whitening.

'Damn it, Michael!'

In his pure anger, his body moves on its own. Lucifer swung his arm back, Lightbringer's flames tracing a graceful arc through the air. He pivots his back foot and-

How dare Michael! How dare he attack Hell, endanger his home, his family, HIS DAUGHTER!

Before he could launch his sword at Heaven, at Michael, in retaliation, a mass of assorted colors grabs his arms and blocks his view.

It was the Sins.

Lucifer: Let go.

Lucifer lets out a wave of power, they faltered a bit but none released their hold or moved.

Satan: We- shit! We can't do that.

Mammon: Mate, don't do something I would definitely do.

Asmodeus: Stop, Lucifer. this will only make things worse. We'll come up with a plan but we can't afford setting off a war right now!

They're trying to reason with their King but Lucifer's eyes are still looking through them.

Lucifer: I'm not the one who started this.

Beelzebub: We know, babe! But! You're getting pissed off more than Satan over here on a normal day. It's not a cute look.

Satan: Hey!

Belphegor: Ozzie is right.

Leviathan: Calm down, Luci.

He was about to shake them off and continue what he was about to do until-

Charlie: Dad!

And just like that Lucifer's anger recedes. He slumps a little into the Sins' holds and calls back Lightbringer.

Charlie and the hotel residents were the first to reach him, he can feel his daughter's hands all over him checking for any injuries as the others worry about what happened. And what the fuck was that?? Was that Heaven??

He was about to say something when they were suddenly blinded by flashes and a bunch microphones being shoved at his face. His family were screaming obscenities for the press to back the fuck up.

'How did they get here so fast?'

Reporter 1: -Your Majesty! Can you tell us what was that??

Reporter 2: -Lucifer, over here! Was that a direct attack from Heaven?

Reporter 3: -Does it have anything to do with what happened in Sloth?

Reporter 4: -Lucifer! Lucifer! Does this mean a war with Heaven is about to happen??

Reporter 5: -Sire, the Pentagram symbol above is destroyed! Is that a barrier? If so, do we not have any protection against Heaven anymore?

Reporter 6: -Are you any match for Heaven's higher forces?

Questions after questions. It doesn't stop even with the threat of the Sins.

'Too loud. Too noisy. ShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutupShutup SHUT UP!'

He looks directly at the group vultures, letting Roo's attributes surface more.

Lucifer: Fall.

The noise stops and the next moment the demons around them fell to the ground fast asleep.

Not even Charlie berated him for using that ability against their will.

Lucifer: Alright. Why don't we talk inside?

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

I feel like the start of my AUs are always short but I hope y'all will support me again 'til the end!

Read STORY 1 here!

[serasfanfiction]

CW: blood and mentions of gore. Alastor being Alastor and never let us forget he's in Hell for a reason.

Part 1 | Part 2| Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Lucifer stared at his bed. Took stock of himself. Realized he was too wound up and any attempt at chasing sleep would futile.

He ran a hand down his face as he groaned. He wanted nothing more than to crawl under his nice, soft comforter and to fall into the forgetfulness of sleep, but with the weight of his new little accessory, he knew his sleep would be nothing like forgetful.

Glancing out the window, he could see the first hints of what passed for daytime in Hell. It was so late, evening had transitioned into early morning.

He frowned in distaste. He had stayed up all night talking with Alastor. Yeah, yeah, they had been talking business, but he knew what it could look like from the outside. It didn't help that Alastor had been helpful. He had an eye for reading people and getting a basic feel for their character at the drop of the hat. Lucifer didn't have to imagine very hard to know it had gone a long way towards helping him lure in his victims.

The question remained: Was the King of Hell going to allow himself to become another one of this serial killer's victims? The idea didn't leave a much better taste in his mouth than the time currently glowing back at him from his bedside table.

This was a shining example of why he didn't interact with sinners anymore.

Leaving through his door, Lucifer made his way downstairs. Early morning it might have been, but there was still some time before the other hotel residents started filtering down. Everything was quiet in a way that held the promise of noise, if only one caught it at the right time.

It felt lived in in a way the palace hadn't in years.

Knowing he was going to actually encounter people at some point led his feet unto the kitchen. As it turned out, Lucifer Morningstar actually liked to cook. He had found it to be a great stress reliever. Perhaps it was because the urge to create was always just below the surface. Perhaps it was an innate desire to make people happy. Whatever it was, throughout most of his marriage and while he was still interacting with the Sins and Ars Goetia, he could often be found working in whatever area was set aside for meal prep. It was something he'd been teased about, but no one had complained about his food, yet.

As things began to fall apart, as he lost faith in humanity and began to withdraw from everyone and everything, there had been less and less opportunities to fall back on the practice. He didn't necessarily need to eat and he didn't want to waste food when there was no one to make it for.

Making toys, especially duck themed ones, had been a secondary fixation. When his marriage had reached the point that not even even trying to keep up appearances for Charlie's sake could hold things together (tenuous as that had been from the start), it had felt like making the toys had been the only thing he was good at anymore so he had become, well, a little obsessed.

Here, now, in the hotel built from his daughter's dreams and the hard work of the hotel's residents, he had been feeling the urge to give into the impulse to try his hand at cooking again. The stress of his new accessory seemed like it was going to finally be the thing that pushed him to do it.

The kitchen was empty, as to be expected. It was also as well stocked as he'd left it. Upon moving in, Lucifer had taken one look at what the others had been living off of up to that point and had put his foot down immediately. Where before it had looked like the pantry of a bunch of young adults who had just moved out and hadn't quite figured out how nutrition worked, with the odd exception, now it had a much more healthy variety of foods. Some of it came from various rings throughput Hell, imported through Lucifer's connections. Some of it came straight from Earth, those through Ozzie's connections.

Lucifer had seen various residents taking advantage of the wider variety of offerings, but he still held it as a victory the one time had come in to find their resident radio celebrity cooking. When pressed, Alastor had replied that he was currently putting together a shrimp gumbo, with the preparation of the roux being just the way his mother had made it. He must have been feeling particularly nostalgic and in a good mood because he had shared it with the rest of the hotel's residents.

Lucifers hands knew what to do, even though he didn't have a larger plan in mind other than 'make breakfast foods.' This sort of approach often led to way too much food being made, but he was sure they'd eat it all eventually.

As the hour progressed, foods such as muffins, pancakes, sausage, bacon, and a few pre-made breakfast tacos took shape. Fruits had been cut up and placed in dishes so that anyone interested could take their pick.

He was just finishing up the yogurt and turning around to place it with the rest of the hoarde when he abruptly became aware that someone was standing just inside the doorway. Startled, Lucifer yelped, jumping, and incidentally dropping the yogurt. It was only pure instinct (and a little magic) that kept it from hitting the floor and going everywhere.

He placed a hand to his chest, trying to calm his rabbitting heart. "Oh my Father, don't scare me like that. I could have set you on fire!"

Which he had done to multiple people who'd startled him in the past. Purely on accident, of course.

Husk stared back at him, watching. His fur was unusually messy. The bags under his eyes were particularly pronounced. His shoulders were hunched and and he was gripping his arms in a posture that screamed discomfort.

All in all, he looked how Lucifer felt.

The angel's brows furrowed in concern. As he set the yogurt back to rights, he asked, "Are you alright? Because - please don't be offended - you look like shit."

Husk's ears twitched at the observation. He glanced around, as if he was searching for something or someone. When he didn't find whatever - whoever? - he was looking for, he said, gruffly, "He's not a good person. Making deals with him is dangerous."

Lucifer blinked, for a moment not comprehending what the cat demon was talking about. All at once, he realized that he'd gotten so into cooking he had actually managed to forget his deal.

His near jerk reaction was to pretend he had no clue what Husk was talking about or to laugh and make light of it. As the immediate panic of the fact that keeping secrets in this place was apparently impossible wore off, the blonde was able to pick up something else in Husk's demeanor: worry.

Lucifer's expression softened at what appeared to be a genuine warning from someone who had been burned by Alastor before and was trying, in his own way, too keep someone else from doing the same. It was especially meaningful, as Lucifer doubted Alastor would be thrilled if he heard Husk warning a potential mark.

Was this what Charlie saw when she looked at their people? Husk wasn't innocent by any means. His hands were bloody both in life and in death, and it would be so easy to be blinded by that, but look deeper and there appeared to be a too big heart under it all.

It was a stark reminder that not everyone in Hell was a total lost cause, even if the sinner wasn't seeking redemption.

Lucifer placed the yogurt on the table with the rest of the food. Feeling the need to reassure Husk, but not wanting to tell the whole truth, he explained, "I'm only paying Alastor back for helping me with something I'm looking into. It's a one off thing."

Husk's deep sigh indicated he found that far from reassuring. Lucifer remembered Alastor saying he dealt predominantly in favors and figured it probably wasn't. Hands tightening around his arms, he added, "Well, be careful. Charlie's a loud, messy crier when she's happy. I don't want to see what she's like if anything happens to you."

Lucifer resisted the urge to scoff at the idea Alastor truly posed him any threat in favor of: "Charlie cries when she's happy?"

When did that started? Since when?

Husk gave him a side look, some major judgement going on in that look. He still took blantent pity on him, more likely wanting to take the opportunity to change the subject. "She and Angel got into a tiff. She was happy when he forgave her."

Something about the way Husk said it made Lucifer suspicious there was more to that story, but Lucifer let it drop. "Aw, I'm glad they made up."

Husk grunted, clearly at the end of his tolerance for mushy talk. He reached over to the selection of food, snatching one up in repayment for his good services. As he was retreating out the door, Lucifer called over, "I appreciate the warning. I'm sorry we disturbed you last night."

Husk didn't respond, opting to make off with his prize before the conversation could devolve into anything more uncomfortable.

The conversation left him in a mood that was both uplifted and off balance. He wasn't able to fall back into the rhythm of cooking, which was perhaps for the best, as there was already more than enough food laid out. He didn't have to wait long before Vaggie - looking wide awake despite the early hour - and Charlie - much less put together - trickled their way in. Both were delighted by the spread of food that awaited them.

Angel, unsurprisingly, would not be done for several more hours, but there was more than enough goodies waiting for him.

Alastor, on the other hand, never made an appearance that day. Nor did he call in his favor.

He did not make an appearance the next day either.

By the third day, Lucifer was beginning to feel a little twitchy. It was a touch bit daunting, knowing one was on the menu, but having no clue how famished the host was. Not that he usually paid attention to the redhead's eating times. Alastor was one of the only members of the hotel that had his own private feeding grounds right in his own room. He could just as easily treat all of the Pride Ring as his hunting grounds, if he were in the mood.

Lucifer didn't think the little shit would starve himself so he could he could have a bigger menu when he did call in his favor. He wouldn't put it past him, either.

By day four, Lucifer was on the verge of putting the whole thing out of his mind, figuring that Alastor was just letting him stew for a bit. Spitefully, the blonde was refusing to give him another minute of his time until the redhead deemed to make himself present. He was also getting used to the weight of their deal and could go several hours without ever once thinking of it.

Which of course meant that's when Alastor gave the chain a little tug.

Lucifer froze mid step. He'd been on his way up to his room, inspired with the idea of a new duck he just couldn't wait to add to his collection. The hallway lit up with a green flash as the chain came into existence and then just as quickly disappeared.

Slowly, Lucifer looked behind him, irritation and panic heightening his senses. There was no one else in the hallway, a perk of being one of the only two residents on this floor. He didn't hear anyone on the landing below. Nothing to suggest that anyone had seen the flash. To his knowledge, Husk was the only one that would recognize Alastor's brand of chains the best. It was possible that even if someone had seen it, they might not have known what it was.

With a forced nonchalance, the blonde made the rest of his journey to his room. When the door was closed and locked firmly behind him, he leaned back, head lightly knocking against the wood as he rested against it.

Knowing something was coming and actually being prepared for it was always two very different things.

Regardless, he had made his bed. It was time to lay in it.

Before Alastor could get impatient and drag him out, Lucifer reached opened a portal to just into the deer demon's room. Not allowing himself to hesitate, he stepped through.

The room was warm, green and black flames flickering in the fireplace. Various lamps lit the room, casting the area into a golden gloom that countered the light of the flames. The unmistakable sound of music filtered out into the room from the radio on the shelf.

At the center of the room was Alastor himself. There was a slight flush to his cheeks and his hair was just a touch out of place.

It was almost enough of a distraction from the fact that the room looked ...bigger? Could it do that?

Alastor drew all attention back to himself with a clap of his hands. "Ah! Right on time. I do so love a date that's punctual."

Lucifer resisted the urge to cross his arms, feeling the posture might be seen as defensive. Instead, he opted for placing a hand on his hip as he casually sniped back with, "Do people want to date you? Willingly?"

The redhead laughed, waving it off. "Now now, none of that, my dear. You'll ruin the mood."

The blonde glared back. Confusion more so than anything else held his tongue. He had been expecting the violence of their previous encounter. Not... whatever this was.

Alastor crossed the room, bending at the waist ever-so-slightly and holding out his hand. The familiarity of the pose did little to prepare the shorter of the two for the question of, "Do you dance, your Majesty?"

"Er," Lucifer said, intelligently. "What?"

Alastor merely raised an eyebrow at him, hand never wavering. "Do you dance?"

Lucifer blinked, frown deepening in confusion. Was Alastor messing with him? Slowly, cautiously, and curious despite himself, he raised his hand to place it in the redhead's. "Yes, but not recently." When had been the last time he'd danced? He didn't think he'd done so since it had been announced that he and Lilith were expecting a child. They had gone out to celebrate that very night. It had been a good night.

He cleared his throat, banishing the memory. "Um, I think the waltz," at least he thought that was what it was called. It had been a minute since he thought of it's name, "Was just becoming a thing at the time."

The redhead nodded. Grip firm, but gentle, he lead the smaller man out into the center of the room. Turning until they faced each other, Alastor guided Lucifer's free hand up to his shoulder, before resting his own hand in the proper position. Over on it's shelf, the radio changed channels, seemingly on it's own, until it landed on a more appropriate song.

Seamlessly, Alastor took them through the beginnings of what was unmistakably a waltz. Lucifer, having learned both rolls, was more surprised that he remembered the steps than he was to having been delegated to the following role.

Lucifer chuckled, a touch of nervousness making it through despite himself, as they made their way around the room. "Um, what are we doing?"

Alastor tsked, the response obvious. "Can't you tell, you Majesty? We're dancing."

Clearly. "Yes, but why?"

The redhead sent the blond into a impromptu spin, likely just to hear the latter yelp, before pulling him back in, just a touch closer than they had been before. "Because it's fun!"

Lucifer grumbled. Fun for Alastor, perhaps. Lucifer felt more like he was on a roller coaster with no clue where it was going. "You know how to do this sort of stuff?"

"Waltz made a bit of a come back during the 20s. I personally preferred dance that didn't require any physical contact, but it was good to know some for when I had a partner." The music changed, shifting to something a bit more upbeat. "Such as this little number."

Before Lucifer knew it, Alastor was guiding them through what was called the 'Fox trot.' "Not as fun as the Charleston, mind you, but still entertaining."

It didn't escape the King of Hell which role he was being taught. "And can you teach from the following role?"

"Ha ha!" Alastor's look was knowing. "Perhaps next time. Always have to leave them wanting more."

Well, two could play at that game.

The blonde exerted enough strength to steal control of the dance, pulling, spinning, and then forcing his taller dance partner into a dip. The radio screeching with static was the only sign of Alastor's alarm at his situation. The new angle brought their faces significantly closer together. Grin sly, Lucifer drawled, "You never know, you might giving up a little control sometimes."

Alastor's ears flattened against his head, smile all teeth. "Sounds dreadful, really. How do you stand it?"

The blond rolled his eyes, but let the little shit up anyway. The music started up again as the Alastor set himself to rights, drawing Lucifer's attention to the fact that the radio seemed far too in tune with their dance to be coincidence. "You can control radios?"

"I'm not called the 'Radio Demon' just because I prefer the medium." To demonstrate, the little device cycled through various channels, stopping briefly on a few here and there (a news channel, a cooking show, a top hits countdown), before settling on a jazz station. The dance they feel into was more freeform, than anything structured. "Why, they're practically an extension of myself!"

Oh, and there was a terrifying thought, the blond thought to himself. Even more reason never to put one if his room.

For the first time, it suddenly occurred to Lucifer that something was missing from Alastor's person. He'd only seen it during their first meeting, but now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen it at all. He wasn't sure, but it had seemed like it was permanently attached to the redhead's hand at the time. It hadn't seemed like an ordinary walking stick, what with the power it had been giving off.

Glancing around the room, he didn't see it anywhere. "By the way, where's that microphone of yours? I haven't seen it in a while."

Alastor went rigid. The music abruptly cut off, dousing the room in a frigid silence.

Lucifer looked up at him, intuiting he'd stepped on a hornet's nest, but not certain why. "Um, Alastor...? You okay there-- Whoa! What are you doing??"

Alastor had abruptly dropped both hands to Lucifer's waist. Using his new grip, he effortlessly lifted the small king. Somehow crossing the room in two steps (and furthering the theory he was messing with the room somehow), he just as abruptly dumped Lucifer onto his desk. Papers and a pen went flying to the floor with little care where they landed.

Lucifer caught himself before he fell over and potentially knocked his head against the wall. He had been sat down so that his seat wasn't precarious, but his legs were dangling off the side. Alastor was standing between them, crowding him. The grip on his waist slid down to his hips in bruising holding pattern. Gone was the easy, playful mood of the dance, now replaced with something near manic.

Cautiously, Lucifer pushed himself up. He didn't dare attempt to reciprocate any touch. "Alastor?"

This close, he could see the way the deer demon's composure was likely being held together by the threads he's stitched himself up with. Something was clearly wrong, but it was just as clear that Alastor did not want to talk about it.

Indeed, the Radio Demon, because that was indeed who was currently out to play, called forth the chain that represented their deal, pulling on it just enough to drag the King of Hell a touch closer to the edge of the desk by his neck. "I think it's time you uphold your end of our deal."

Getting the feeling all of this was to divert attention from whatever might have happened to the microphone (and a seemingly extreme one, in his opinion), Lucifer raised his hands, palms out, in a calming gesture. "Easy there, big boy. If you didn't want to talk about it, you could have just said so."

When the redhead failed to respond, the blond sighed. It took little effort to bring about the change, since he had done it a couple times before. The sitting position was much nicer on the tail, but the hat wasn't so great with the ears. This thought had just crossed his mind, when said hat was being lifted off his head. He had enough time to spy a shadow tentacle spiriting it off towards the chairs near the fireplace, when a nose buried itself in his hair.

His ears twitched at the tickling sensation of his hair moving around them. He made a face at the sound of a deep breathe being taken and wondered what it was with this guy and smelling him.

As if he could hear the question, Alastor said, "As I thought, your scent changes." He sounded a little too delighted for all the wrong reasons with this information.

Lucifer endured it, as it seemed that the redhead was calming down from whatever had set him off. He made a mental note to ask about the microphone at a later time. At present, he was more concerned about the mood of the person who was about to sink their teeth into him. He could almost feel the way that Alastor's whole body was slowly relaxing with each breathe he took. Could just barely feel the thumb of one of the hands still on his hips rubbing back and forth through the fabric of his pants.

Alastor continued the journey down from the top of the head to where the ears would sit on a human. Lucifer was aware that this was all about scenting - that Alastor's sense of smell likely was as enhanced at a real deer's - but he couldn't quite hold back a hitch in his breathe.

It was about the point when he felt nudging his neck that he remembered that bucks could leave scents behind to mark their territory just by rubbing their foreheads against things.

Lucifer's hand took hold of one of the little red ears that had started this whole mess in the first place, just shy of the point of pain.

He could feel Alastor's smile against his skin, just above the collar his coat. "You promised no retaliation," he admonished.

Lucifer growled. "I said you could have your fill of my blood. I never agreed to be your property."

The redhead shrugged, but didn't repeat the motion. Likely, the scent had already been left and the damage already done. The blonde resolved to make certain to remove all hints of this little encounter the first chance he got. He released the captive appendage, the poor thing flicking itself as Alastor assessed any damage.

Alastor finally pulled away, giving his temporary captive a once over in consideration. As if merely commenting on the weather, he suggested, "You should take off your coat and shirt."

Lucifer stared, uncomprehending for several seconds. When it sunk in, he sputtered, flushing. "What? Why would I do that?"

Alastor leaned forward, finally releasing the blonde's hips and moving them to the desk to brace himself on either side of the before mentioned hips. "I'm not picky, but clothing doesn't taste that good," he explained, still in that matter of fact voice. "This is also likely to get messy."

Lucifer's whole body was frozen. He didn't think in that moment he remembered how to breathe. The inherent intimacy of their position and the remembered violence of their previous encounter was wreaking havoc on his body's responses. It didn't know if it wanted to get away or to lay down and take what it was receiving.

How long had it been since anyone had touched him outside of a hug or chaste pat on the hand that his signals were getting muddled at a time like this? Even more pathetically, it wasn't even getting confused for sexual signals! Was he really so touch starved he was enjoying being manhandled by a known psychopath who enjoyed playing with his meals?

Something hot and ugly rose in his chest. Survival instincts told him it wasn't safe to look at at the feeling in front of such a predator. It was a doomed endeavor, however. They were too close and Alastor was too good at reading people. Lucifer knew from the moment Alastor's smile widened, every single fang on display as he nearly salivated at the sight. That he could smell the blood in the water.

Lucifer forced himself to ignore it. Force it down and smoother it. Dealing with this revelation wasn't for here and now, in this sort of moment, where any weakness was a weapon Alastor could and would use against him. His fingers shook with minute tremors as he brought them up to pull off his coat.

Alastor backing off enough to let Lucifer remove his upper cloths felt like coming up for air. Being physically exposed had never bothered him. He had long since made peace with the way angelic, alabaster skin gave way to blackened, demonic skin along his arms. His beauty was unquestioned, even tens of thousands of years after his fall from his father's favor. A heavenly creature might have been repulsed by the unavoidable evidence of the taint of Hell, but no sinner, hellborn, or demon had ever blinked twice.

Alastor took it all in as more and more skin was revealed. Each piece of clothing sent off to join his hat. There was no heat to his gaze, something Lucifer found himself unreasonably thankful for. He wasn't certain he could have handled that on top of everything else.

He thought he might have caught a glimpse of appreciation, but he had little time to dwell on it as one of Alastor's hands took hold of his wrist, bringing it up to inspect his arm the way a butcher inspects a prospective slab of meat. Grip tightening and head tilting to the side, the Radio Demon clamped his teeth down and bit.

Lucifer hissed through his teeth, digging the claws of this free hand into edge of the desk. Those teeth drove in mercilessly, until they encountered what passed for bones in seraphim. Only then did they stop, pulling back and out. He shuddered when he felt the what could only be a sucking sensation. His arm would not be as ideal for drawing as much blood as Alastor would need to sate himself. It would be likely he would need to bite down multiple times to accomplish his goal.

But Alastor did not bite down again. After several minutes, he pulled back, black and gold fluids dribbling down his chin.

Arm throbbing even as it knitted itself back together, Lucifer exhaled. He forced himself to focus, studying his attacker's expression.

The redhead's gaze never left his arm, expression calculating. He seemed to be waiting for something and Lucifer blamed the pain for addling his brain that it took as long as it did for him to figure out why.

"Are you trying to see how fast I heal?!"

Alastor watched the skin knit back together until there wasn't a single trace of damage. Instead of looking frustrated, he seemed to only be delighted. Alastor turned his head until they were eye to eye. An unholy and fathomless hunger stared back at Lucifer, and it was all he could do not to look away, even if his captive wrist didn't allow him any retreat. Alastor's free hand came up to run a single finger down from Lucifer's collar bone to navel, pressing just short of hard enough to draw blood.

"I want to slice you open and gorge myself on your organs." Alastor's horns extended and he gained another foot in height, loosing his grip on his demonic self a little. "I want to see how many times I can devour them, watch each and everyone one of them grow back, and then do it all over again." His hand slid back up, reaching around and grabbing a fistful of the short hairs at the base of Lucifer's skull. "You're the perfect meal."

Lucifer went limp just as Alastor yanked his head to the side, pulled on his captive wrist, and then sank his teeth into his neck. Sweat broke out across his skin in response to the pain as he was reduced in that moment to little more than a royal juice box.

There was no telling how long they'd be there. He had no gauge for how hungry Alastor was. Could only ride it out until the other was finished.

After a while, Lucifer hit a tipping point. He could feel himself going a touch floaty, detaching from the pain in the only way available to him. Without giving it much thought, his free hand rose up to run a hand through the hair mere inches from his face in something akin to a petting motion. His jaw finally relaxed and he was a little surprised he hadn't bitten his tongue off.

He barely noticed when Alastor finally withdrew his teeth, allowing the skin to begin to repair itself. Barely noticed when the tight grip on his wrist began to loosen. It took effort to focus, but the still odd feel of a tongue chasing the last drips of blood helped.

When he became aware of his body again, he noted that his spine wasn't thrilled with the position he had been forced into. Noted that the room had started to go cold (or as cold as Hell ever got) as the fire had gone out at some point. Noted the softness of the hair under his fingers.

He blinked as Alastor pulled away, shuddering as he fully came back to himself. His hand dropped away to rest back on the desk. His shoulder throbbed, but it had already stopped bleeding. As he glanced down at his chest, he noted that indeed the amount of blood that had been spilled would have made quite the mess.

Alastor hummed to himself contently, releasing his grip on both Lucifer's hair and wrist. From a pocket in his coat, he pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed the mess lingering on his chin as he stepped back away from the desk and the individual sitting on it. Despite the mess he'd made of the Devil, he himself had gotten away without a spot on his clothes.

Lucifer mustered up enough energy to glare at him. "Satisfied?"

Alastor's grin, partially hidden by the handkerchief, was lazy and bemused, some of that manic energy that always seemed to follow him calm for once. It was similar to the look he'd had that first night. "Oh, no, sire. I'm never satisfied, but I am full. Thank you ever so much for the meal."

Around Lucifer's neck, the green chain that was their deal came into being just long enough to shatter, signifying that their deal had been over. Alastor watched it go with something akin to remorse.

Lucifer himself didn't realize how much control over his own body he'd lost, how compliant it had made him, until the deal was complete. He breathed in deep, feeling the last of the fog fall away like the clouds parting. Slowly sliding off the desk, he waved a hand, using a bit of magic to clean up the blood. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw those shadow tentacles holding out his clothes. Wanting nothing more than to hide away from that butcher gaze, even just superficially, he reclaimed his clothes and dressed as quickly as he could without looking like he was in a hurry.

Once he felt as put back together as he was going to get, he turned his attentions back to the other occupant of the room. "Our deal is complete. I don't think I need to mention how beneficial it would be to you not to mention this to anyone?"

Alastor's whole posture was smug. "Oh, I'm happy to keep this little rendezvous to myself."

Lucifer refused to deign that with a response. Without so much as a goodbye, he spirited himself away with a wave of red smoke, just barely hearing, "How rude!" before the room disappeared.

Reappearing in his own room, Lucifer simply stood there for a long, long moment, blankly staring at nothing. Slowly, he sank to the floor, allowing his legs to finally give out under him. Everything that had happened over the last several hours crashed over him in a wave and he shuddered as it threatened to pull him back under.

In the mess of it all, he finally allowed himself to acknowledge the terrible little thing Alastor had dragged into the light, even as he loathed himself for it.

Despite being surrounded by others. Despite his reunion with his daughter and the joy of creating new bonds with her. Despite the friendships he was slowly creating with the members of the hotel.

Despite all of it all, he was still lonely.

tbc

Part 7

[whatwooshkai]

Gimme a number 5! :D

Chase's face is contorted in badly disguised panic as he stands there, finials practically brushing the lights on his back, waiting for instruction.

Charlie tries desperately not to laugh, coughing into his fist. "I am so sorry," he says, voice strained, as Mayor Luskey forces his way out of the car, fuming.

"BURNS!" he snarls, his toupee slightly askew, and he nearly trips over the grappler as he storms up to him. "WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!"

"So sorry," Charlie repeats, noticing that Chase has started nervously wringing his hands. "The police bot noticed your car was going above the speed limit and wasn't responding to the flashing lights, so he- uh, the AI, I mean- took the next logical step." He gestures at the scene. "Hence the grappler."

Chase had deployed it without asking, and Charlie hadn't even known what happened until the mayor's car had suddenly stopped and started swerving in front of them, caught in a trap of yellow nylon webbing.

"Well- well- fix it!" Mayor Luskey turns on his poor chauffeur and starts shouting again, and Charlie notices the slight sigh of relief from Chase as the attention is taken off them.

"Police bot," Charlie orders, biting back his smile, "fix this please."

"Yes sir," Chase says, sounding much less confident than usual.

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

"I didn't even know you had a grappler," Charlie pipes up as they roll into the firehouse's driveway. "My last patrol car sure didn't."

"It was equipment I had back on Cybertron," Chase explains as the garage door closes behind them, then transforms when Charlie steps out. "I just haven't had a reason to use it until now."

"Well, uh, good to know," Charlie says, patting his hands on his hips. "Just maybe ask first next time?"

"Of course," Chase hums, and his finials flatten against his helm.

"So, do you have any other equipment you're holding out on me?" Charlie continues teasingly, and Chase's finials cant back.

"No," he answers, sounding almost disappointed. "A question better suited for Heatwave. I have not seen him use any of his arsenal."

"Really?" They step on the lift together. Normally Charlie would go back upstairs, but now he's curious. "What kinds of equipment?"

"I'd imagine it's similar." Chase taps his foot against the ground as the lift starts down. "He's got a kit hand."

"What's that?"

"Heatwave!" Chase addresses the fire bot instead, who's up on one of the pillars with the training dummy.

"What?" he calls back, leaning against it.

Chase gestures to Charlie. "He's curious about your equipment."

Heatwave frowns. "...What equipment?"

"Your firefighting equipment. You hand." Chase gestures abstractly.

"Oh." Heatwave jumps down and Chase offers his hand to Charlie, who climbs into it, and he's deposited onto Chase's shoulder for a better view. "Most of it's only accessible in my alt mode, but I got a few things."

He sticks his forearm out and a panel retracts. "Winch," he says, gesturing at it. "Got them on both sides. And my hand's kit." His left hand retracts back into his forearm, and he transforms tools out in rapid succession, including but not limited to a sledgehammer, an axe, a halligan, and a chainsaw. His hand's back in a few moments, and he offers Charlie a shrug. "I don't really have a need for them. I can usually brute force my way through any of the emergencies you guys have."

"True," Charlie hums, "but it's good to know. Thank you."

Heatwave blinks, then nods, turning away and going back to his dummy. Charlie looks to Chase. "Do the others have equipment like that, or, uh, 'kit' hands?"

Chase's finial flicks. "Why don't we go ask?" he says, voice colored with an excited lilt.

Charlie gets the distinct impression he's being included on something important, but he can't even begin to be sure of what. So he just smiles, pats Chase on the cheek, and lets him take him to the others.

[velvet-paradox]

Smooth

Pairing: Keegan P. Russ x Female reader Summary: Keegan enjoys shaving you nice and clean and taking you to pound town! Length: Medium Warnings: NSFW 18 + ONLY, explicit content, strong language, established relationship, oral (f receiving), soft dom!Keegan, shaving!kink, fingering, pussy slapping, unprotected p in v, dirty talking, pet names, new daddy!kink, praise, detailed smut. Tagging: @synnersaintaint @catswithabsoluteclownery @mykneeshurt @macravishedbymactavish @rimbut-t @notap1e

ENJOY!!!

It's hot.

Keegan is a stickler for routine, likes the discipline, the patterns, the control. He'd lose it if he didn't join the military when he did, take on more than one task a time before he picked up the next mission, the next project. He couldn't sit still for long unless he was truly into what he was doing.

And speaking of…

The project at literal hand was a delicate one.

No messing about, no distractions even though you couldn't help but move an inch higher. He'd scolded you twice now, giving you those piercing blue eyes and peeked eyebrow.

He clicked his teeth at you like a horse, raising your calf.

"Kitten please hold still, I don't want to slip."

"You think I can help it?"

"Kitten please. You're doing such a good job and we're almost done so don't you start pouting and being a bad girl now." Keegan's voice held no bite even though he was stern about it. "You want your reward don't you?"

He moved his fingers then sending a white hot jolt through up your spine.

Carefully Keegan ducked his head back down between your legs, kneeling on his cracking knees, eyes narrow and lazer focused on the task at hand which was… shaving.

Keegan was a grown ass man, he didn't shy away from knowing what he tasted like. He had you lick your own flavor off his fingers, off his cock more times than you could count. While you'd had other partners, they didn't appreciate an after kiss so when Keegan grabbed you after shooting his load all over your tongue and lips, willing licking inside your mouth as he kissed you hard and fast left you dizzy.

He didn't care about pubic in general, if he was lucky enough to get laid, who cared? He really got into that whole Vajazzling craze, rhinestones and safe glitter. Then he was on to the next and full on into waxing but there was just something so intimae about him being on his knees for you, worshipping your body, treating you with such care, he really enjoyed. Stroke after stroke, your pussy would be revealed. Soft and smooth.

You didn't mind at all, less of a chore for you anyways. Since being with Keegan you barely lifted a finger to do anything around the house, his or yours. No more twisting and squatting, no more Charlie horse cramps. No more stray hairs left behind, he bought a replica of the straight razor he used on his face. It was cleaner, faster and he knew exactly what to do with the blade.

"Fuck look at you, cutest fucking pussy." Keegan groaned, moving your skin as he slowly dragged the blade against it.

"Love it when you shave my pussy, baby. Gets me so fucking horny." You hum in return.

"Yeah? Like me revealing and exposing your pretty little cunt just for me?"

"Mmm yeah."

He tapped the little bucket with it, your short and curlies disappearing, he wiped it off cleanly. A warm washcloth came next, wiping you down. He had all of his things neatly around him, a little cup with tepid water splashed against your mound, catching little remnants.

"Turn around, kitten. We're in the home stretch now baby."

You shivered and got up from his bathroom vanity, bending over, sticking your ass out with a little sway of your hips.

"Hold yourself open for me."

Fuck. You bit your lip.

He finished shaving your pussy, the feeling of his breath on your newly bare skin, front to back as incredible. You'd never get over the feeling no matter how many times he tended to you.

Keegan waited on hand and foot for you. You'd catch yourself lost on it, how a hard man like Keegan P. Russ could be soft for you, sweet on you, brought you flowers, ordered take out when your period came so you wouldn't have to be bothered to hobble and cook and fuss over the stove.

He waited until you turned off the shower before stepping back into the bathroom with a fuzzy towel. He wrapped you up, drying you off little by little until he walked you both into his bedroom.

Completely exposed and naked, you sat down on his bed, dropping the towel to your collar.

"Let me see my handiwork, princess."

Like he'd never seen your cunt before, he stood at attention at your feet as you leaned back, the soft towel slipping down your shoulders, pooling around your hands and waist. Keeping your eyes on his as they raked over your naked body you moved one leg, then the other. "Best fucking pussy. Look at that." Keegan groaned, giving in and palming at his crotch.

"You wanna' taste it now?"

Keegan tore off his ghost mask before getting rid of his shirt, the jangle of his belt sent shivers down your spine. He grabbed his thick rod of a cock in his hand, jerking himself off, teasing himself little by little, stepping closer, eyes on your cunt.

The bed creaks with his weight, fitting himself between your legs, moving down to lay on his stomach, a snipers' position as he loops his arms around your thighs. You fit the balls of your feet on the hard, trained muscles of his shoulders.

Keegan is good. Too fucking good.

His hands are large and ghost over your bare flesh, he rubs his chin along your mound, breathing you in with a groan. He spreads your labia, chuckling lowly when you grind your hips up.

"Now now kitten, no need to be hasty. You'll get your reward."

"Keegan please."

"Begging only makes it worse," Keegan cooed and gave your hip a lingering, searing hot kiss. "Be a good girl for me, okay sweetie? You can do that can't you?"

"Yes. I'll be good."

"Do you promise?" Keegan sang, dropping his voice even lower, using his sexy bedroom tone.

"Yes baby I promise, just… it feels so good when I'm all clean."

"I know kitten, I know."

Keegan licked at you, kissing your clit lightly in between hard flat presses, quick sucks and pulls on your sensitive lips. He brushed the bridge of his nose along the underside of your clit, enjoying himself as he devoured you. The sounds he was making were pornographic and lewd. He sat up just a little, angling his face just right to spit on your pussy only to indulge in slurping it right back into his mouth.

"Fuck baby that's it. I love it when you do that," you moaned and reached for his head, tugging on his hair as you arched your back.

"Makes me so fucking wet."

"Yeah? You like that?" Keegan did it again, moving his face and mouth back and forth, back and forth over your engorging bundle of nerves. You cried out and Keegan smiled against your cunt.

"Yeah!"

Keegan chuckled. "Good girl. My good girl loves to get her little pussy eaten out, huh? Yeah you do. Fuck kitten, tease my face."

Your gasp at his vulgarness made him even more eager to please you, wiggling his thick fingers along the apex of your thighs, digging into the meat of your thighs before prodding around your hole.

You grip his hair even tighter, letting him take his time with you.

Getting you wet, satisfied little laughs that left you breathless as you wiggled and arched. In between kisses he likes to look up at your through his thick lashes, watches you unravel as you try desperately to stay still.

"You're so fucking pretty, atta' girl. Should I get my tongue in there or fingers first?"

"Fingers."

"Just my fingers?" Keegan hummed. "Or you want my mouth too?"

"Both. I want both."

"So fucking smooth." Keegan kissed everywhere but your clit after that, leaving it to throb, making you clench around the two fingers he's slipped inside you, massaging your walls. Twisting and curling them to find that soft, spongy little shell that would make you scream, make you cum.

"That's so good baby, a little faster."

"Faster? Needy little kitten." Keegan chuckled lowly, dragging out his fingers, teasing your clit with a few precise circles and presses. He tapped it a few times making you squeal. Reeling back he gave your pussy a nice little islap. Bare and all those nerve endings shocking your system. Noticing how much you enjpyed that little hit he did again and again, another string of his spit slipped between your folds.

You could feel yourself leaking for him.

"Fuck yeah baby."

"A little love tap never hurt anyone. I want you to cum, I want you to cum all over my fingers and my face. You look so pretty when you're all fucked out."

"So do you." You whined as he started to finger you again. You weren't lying, for a big cold hearted handsome man of his caliber and weight, he made the best sounds. Moaning in your ear how good you were, how warm you felt, how inviting. How beautiful you look, how sweet you taste.

How good you taste together.

"Yeah? You think Daddy's pretty?"

Wait.

What?

You swallowed and licked at the drool coming out of your mouth before you sat up, eyeing his icy blues, taken aback as you'd never called him that before. You were met with a growing smirk.

"Are you going to answer me, kitten? I said; do you think Daddy's pretty?"

God the way he said it, it really made your heart race.

"Yeah," you drawled and cupped his jaw, watching how his eyes shifted and his mouth open. "I think Daddy's real pretty."

"Fuck." That seemed to do the trick because Keegan was suddenly on top of you, kissing you hard, biting into your neck as he slipped a calloused hand between you, fingering you so deep and fast it made your head spin, moaning like a real whore.

The sounds of your wetness, flooding around his thick fingers, drenching his palm as you squealed and thrashed, clawing at the sheets was out of control. Keegan groaned deeply as he watched. You could always feel his eyes on you, in the hall, in briefings, in bed.

"Christ, you are so fucking wet. Do you hear it, kitten? Do you hear yourself? You're gonna' make such a mess, gonna' have to change these sheets."

"I'm gonna' cum."

"Tell me baby, say it. I need to hear you say it."

"I… I…"

"Yes? You what, baby?"

"I'm gonna' cum. Make me cum, please. Oh Daddy, I'm gonna' cum, cum for you."

Somehow he got you even wetter, three fingers curling and getting you off until you came with a shout. Your legs trembling, shaking at Keegan's waist as you gasped and reeled from your high.

"That's my girl, takin' those fingers real deep. So fucking pretty kitten, good job. Daddy's kitten did so good, look at you." Keegan praised and kissed your chin, taking a tiny bite of your smooth flesh before slowly pulling them out of your hole, whining as you felt empty.

"Fuck Keegan."

"Ah ah ah," he slapped your tender pussy twice making you jolt and squirm. "Get it right or you get nothing else. I could make you watch me jack off instead. Maybe I'll jerk off in front of your pretty little face, shoot my load all over it."

"No! I want you to fuck me. Please Daddy, I'm sorry. I won't call you Keegan again. Please."

He hummed and smeared your arousal all over you mound, splitting his first two digits into a V shape, rubbing around, up and down your clit. "You just want to cum again."

"Yes I do but… I want you to fuck me, I want you inside me," you huffed and grabbed at his shoulder, pawing at his trained muscles.

"Don't you wanna' fuck me Daddy? Fuck your kitten's pussy wide open. Make me gape."

"Fuck, you say the nicest shit baby. I supposed if you put it that way," Keegan agreed and gave your hip a little pinch. "Get on your knees and hold on to that headboard."

….

Your man is nasty. He has a thing about spit and cum, the only two fluids he's at all interested in. He spreads your cheeks and the spit that hits your asshole is hot, and he's hot and your hanging your head and growling behind you teeth. He fucks you hard, reaching around your hip he finds and holds on to your pussy, fitting his fingers to spread your lips open, caging in his thrusting cock.

"Feel that kitten? Daddy's thick cock is splitting you in half. You are so amazing, look at you taking my cock like this. Good job baby, good fucking job."

"Oh Daddy, you feel so good." You keened as the headboard continued its' rhythm of banging into the wall behind it. Good thing you were at his place, your neighbors would be knocking your door down or calling the police. Which has happened. Just the once.

"Oh I know kitten, feels so good for me too. Best fucking pussy."

Keegan smacked your ass and then he was hunching over you, his sweaty chest sticking to your back, not even slowing down.

Then his hand was on the back of your neck, pushing your head into the bed.

"Good job kitten, you're gonna' take all of it, ya' hear me? What a good girl you are taking Daddy's cock, what a good little slut for me."

Keegan moaned your name, pressing his mouth to your ear as he kept up the pace.

Words you lost on you the longer he fucked you, a new flood of wetness rushed through your core, milking him, sucking him back in over and over until all you could was shout into the sheets.

"What's that, kitten? Daddy can't hear you." His bicep came up and around your chin, in a chokehold as you panted and cooed and drooled.

"I want you to cum inside me," you sobbed, feeling his muscles shift under your jaw. "I wanna' feel you, feel you fill me up. Please fill me up, Daddy. Fill up your kitten."

Keegan chuckled lowly, almost menacing in your ear, sticky like honey and just as sweet. "You want it? You want Daddy's thick cum? Yeah you do and you're gonna' fuckin' get it."

[mrfleshwizard]

I'll be honest, I think enough has been said about how both Lucifer and Charlie leave a lot to be desired.

Incredibly, I feel that Charlie can be forgiven for one thing or another because if we focus on her being ignorant of her own world… it could make her a good protagonist to introduce us to her own world.

I mean, she knows about humans, but she only knows through sinners. That is, all she has seen of “humans” is something more oral than witnessing something genuine. It's always the bad side, from what little he's seen (since he doesn't even seem to know the concept of Overlord).

There are things that can be forgiven or worked around better. The one who has no excuse is Lucifer.

If I could make a list, I think I would fall short because there are too many things wrong.

1) The lack of “I am the king of Hell.” If we were to go by things more attached to the biblical canon, this would be more taken in his favor since Lucifer is not king of anything except his own delusion. However, we are talking about the “popular canon” so if in design he is not going to be scary, in personality he needs to be scary; vice versa as well.

Fuck, the Overlords look more like rulers than he does. They pull the strings, have territories and so on. And they are not even important fish.

2) Depression: It is the card up the sleeve of some characters (not only Vivzie's but other authors as well) to justify things. The fact that you suffer from something does not justify it, it only explains the reason for those things, but sometimes that line even fails in the viewer.

Here it makes no sense. If your home was so oppressive, even if you have some sense of nostalgia, you should feel a sense of relief to get rid of that burden. Now, what's he going to be depressed about, he won a kingdom thanks to the descendants of the people who screwed up their lives, he has a wife (who has marital problems? Like anyone else) and a daughter. He wins more than he loses.

“ You offer humans everything and they destroy everything” said the one who had everything and sent it all to hell.

3) Grooming and misogyny: This one is very simple, Lilith and Eve in comparison to Lucifer are too young. And he decided to mess with both of them, and even rubs it in Adam's face, as if they were things to give pleasure. Yes, I know the joke is “Adam is no good in bed” but all he did was shoot himself in the foot. He could have said a lot of things, including that “without Heaven's help, you can't get someone to put up with you or that you'd be a creature no one would love.”

We are also talking about technically being the adult, if Lilith and Adam were having problems or he saw that Lilith was falling in love with him, he should have stopped the situation. Here also half of Heaven is to blame because why did they allow it, even when they created Eve, it didn't seem that they (Lucifer and Lilith) would have left, therefore, they gave the go ahead to that relationship.

4) Charlie: For a supposed universe where Daddy Issues abound, this must be the most pathetic “daddy issues” I have ever seen. That it's solved with a song and that in reality they both love each other very much. It's not even necessary to say that they were estranged thanks to Lilith/Eva/Roo, they could have put a father present but at the same time absent. That he didn't really value Charlie or that they spent little time with her.

It's just insipid.

5) Hypocrisy: This one abounds a lot in his character.

He doesn't like sinners, Lilith and Eve are sinners. He fights with Alastor over who is the better parent, hasn't seen his daughter in years and doesn't even support his daughter's dream. He likes Vaggie, for the fact that she is a woman and doesn't say her name well. He brags to Adam that he knew how to satisfy his two wives, objectifying them by focusing more on sex than, I don't know, feelings. He loves Lilith, he messed with Eve. Here we can argue whether it was a free relationship or not… but, it would be between the two of them, not Eve.

And the funniest thing of all, is that some points would be perfect… if they didn't want us to empathize with him. That they allowed him to either be evil or a being with delusions that really has no power and that people realized that “he just wants to drag people into the same hole where he is.”

There's a lot of things that could work, if the approach had been different, including it feeling like something fresh and new

On the part of Lilith, the mythological, although evil, is also an interesting character. Of course, popular culture has transformed her from an "evil woman" to an "empowered woman". As they have done with characters like Medea, Medusa (the original version and Pseudo Apollodorus' version) etc.

Although most of the myths she is a despicable being, to a version that is very little explored: One where she and Adam end up 120 years together in a consensual way. It would be interesting if the show handled that version or the evil version.

At the same time, asking for that kind of thing from a show where they focus more on the male characters and the female characters are pretty flat… is asking a lot.

I agree. If the show actually tried to acknowledge her flaws, challenged her views or show that she isn't good person she would be so much better, but show doesn't let her to grow.

1) Overlords are bigger leaders of hell than him. I would find interesting if Sera was the one who leads hell, but no, Lucifer is King of Hell and does absolutely nothing.

2) I don't think Lucifer has depression. That one line seems like a joke. His "suffering" is non existed. Fans love to make sad Videos of him missing his wife. They villainize her for being bad wife without knowing the whole story. He got everything he wanted but stills earns for more (maybe he should replace Mammon.) I hate how the show villainize humans becouse "Lucifer give them free will and they ruined in" or some shit like that. For what I seen humans had free will BEFORE Eve eat the apple and Lucifer ruined everybody lives.

3) The whole situation in eden is weird and creepy becouse how the fuck do Lilith and Eve know that what they doing (cheating) could be wrong? That thing could can as a grooming, but even if it wasn't, it is still predatory as fuck, and I hate how fans tries to justify it. Him rubbing in Adam's face is so pathetic. It doesn't make him cool and I wish fans could see that.

4) I hate how fans act that "He missed Charlie!" When fucker called her when he needed something or was bored, but people choose to ignore it becouse they don't want to admit that Lucifer suck.

5) I always saw Lucifer as delusional. Him dragging others in the same hole where he is could be a very good idea, but Viv refuses to make Lucifer something else than a "Goofy sad misunderstood guy".

I hate mythological Lilith with burning passion. Making rapist an feminist is so wrong. They're more feministic religious characters who aren't sex offenders. (for example Norea from gnostisc religion) Even if the show would go with "120 years" version doesn't change the fact that Lilith assualted many people. (Adam wasn't the only victim.)

The characters and the world are just boring and flat. There is nothing interesting about them and it's disappointing, especially after seeing how fans were hype for this show.

[polka-popia]

Worth it (Part 1/4)

(A Huskerdust story)

or

An AU where Husk has had enough of watching Angel's abuse go down from the sidelines and challenges Val to a game. Winner gets a new soul...

Warning(s): Mentions of Abuse, Suggested SA, Cursing, Fluff, Angst, Happy Ending though...

Author's Note: Now this is based off of an idea by "Maddie's Minis" on Tiktok. It sounded too good to pass up writing. I hope you enjoy!

*********************************************

Husk loved midnight.

The hotel was quiet at this point. Charlie had a sign up encouraging guests and other staff members to use midnight as a sort of... 'curfew' if you will. A guide on when to call it a night and hurry up to their rooms after a long day of trying to be productive members in hell.

‘After midnight, bad choices can get made!’ She had tried reasoning while Alastor snapped his fingers, making the signs appear all around the hotel.

He had also offered to stay up for that time being, stand in the shadows of the hotel, punish any guest or… ‘scold’ any staff member who refused to listen, but Charlie liked to trust the people around her. So, it was an obvious No from her and a slight shrug from her more... Intense counterpart of a girlfriend.

Vaggie kept the mere suggestion from the princess of hell as an actual rule of the hotel. Only exception to it was Angel. He couldn’t control when he got off of work. Sometimes he could rush these things, other times Val would demand him to stay back.

But where was Husk, again? Oh right...

He loved midnight...

He could never fully explain why he did though. Of course, nobody ever asked. But if someone ever did get curious enough to, he'd probably just shrug. Say cause it's quieter. But it was more than that. Because deep down, Husk couldn't stand when shit was too quite. Made him feel on edge. Like he had to prepare for something. Like a scene in a horror movie that keeps the audiance at the edge of their seats.

In reality, maybe he liked midnight cause of Charlie's rule about sinners staying in their rooms. Maybe he liked it because he didn't have to deal much with people bothering him. He could focus on keeping this bar nice and tidy the way his casino used to be.

And as the side door of the hotel swung open, Husk found himself absentmindedly reaching for the rum Angel always wanted mixed with some vodka. Deep down, like way deep down, Husk questioned if this was really why he looked forward to that clock striking midnight...

The clicking of high heeled boots tap against the marble floor as Angel approaches while Husk works on that drink.

‘A strong drink should always have two or more things in it!’ Angel had informed Husk many times before while knocking over the glass when it wasn't up to his standards.

“Long night?” Husk mutters casually when the clicking stops in front of the bar. No sound of a stool getting pulled out, no usual greeting... That was weird for Husk. Angel usually started off these midnight drinking encounters with a ‘Hey daddy...’ or on the real tough nights Husk would get a sharp ‘drink’ demand from the seven-foot-tall jumping spider.

Instead, he gets something else. A sniffle. Husk pauses his pouring to finally turn to Angel and see him standing in front of the bar, trembling, his blazer ripped open, dirt mixed into his usually perfectly groomed fur, a black eye and scratch marks littered his face, and Husk gripped the bottle tighter.

“Legs…” He whispers as Angel finally falls to the floor, sobbing. The scene catches Husk completely off guard. There were no snide remarks, no casual insistence that this was fine. No excuse that he’d done something wrong. Just the exhausted cries of a man who walked around like he had everything together.

Husk walks around the bar counter, wrapping his arms around the slender frame of the 'Angel Dust' who was gone for the moment, replaced by the, in Husk's opinion, far more likable Anthony.

Angel stiffens for a second before he grips onto Husk tight, all four hands finding a different spot to hold on to. They find their way to Husk's arms, his waist, his chest as he buries his face deeper into Husk's neck.

“Do I even wanna know what that asshole did?” Husk growls slightly. Angel never got into the details when he’d come back to the hotel messed up. But this? This was a whole new level that Husk had yet to witness before.

It was getting worse...

“I-I lost the chain...” Is all Angel says, voice gruff from the sobs and other vocal strains. It takes Husk only a few seconds to understand him though. For Angel’s birthday, that he still celebrated because it’s one of the many things he refuses to forget, Husk had taken bar tips from the guests and used it to buy Angel a simple and modest gold chain.

Husk was thinking it was gonna be met with a forced smile, maybe even some teasing, but instead, Angel held it with all four hands like it was his ticket to heaven.

And a lot happened that night...

The major thing being Husk seeing Angel in the necklace. Wearing just the necklace. But none of it was spoken about again after that night. Much to both of their understanding...

There was too much happening to ever get too lost in the sheets of Husk's bedroom..

“I... I couldn’t stop him from taken it. I-I’m sorry. I… I’ll try and get it back, or maybe I’ll just… how much was it? I’ll pay ya-“ Husk cuts Angel off by bringing his head back to his chest. Angel slightly grips his fur, eyes shutting tight.

“He coulda killed me tonight...” Angel whispers finally as if it’s just now dawning on him. As if it’s never been like this before. A quick hit here and there, or some very loud yelling, but it’s never been like this. Angel had feared getting hurt.

But tonight… tonight was the first time he ever feared dying...

Husk softly shushes him, stroking his hair as they sit there on the floor.

The hotel was quiet at this point.

Charlie had a sign up encouraging guests and other staff members to use midnight as a sort of curfew…

And Husk hated midnight...

**************************************

-Part 2 will be out by tomorrow. I do anything Hazbin or Helluva, and requests are open!

[108garys]

Daughter

For Erin's 26th birthday I have written a corruption fic aka "what if Du'met just adopted her?"

Warnings/types of content are: blood, asthma/breathing problems, survivors guilt, canon typical violence, detainment, selective mutisim, complicity guilt, sole survivor Erin, highly understandable moral corruption, Du'met is obsessed(platonic), general post canon psychological fallout, nightmares, takes place from canon to present, 3000+ words(putting my tag list at the bottom because tumblr is being weird and only letting me tag a few users at a time)

It all started with an asthma attack and a pack of cigarettes…

Charlie had been inconsiderate, had blamed her and when she by chance learned how precarious their financial situation was she had to wonder… When was he going tell them that they were screwed? Was she going to show up to work one day to learn she had no job?

But he'd made new business cards…He expected to pull through.

When he'd said all those things at dinner Erin had to wonder through her second asthma attack of the day if Charlie meant to pull through with the rest of the team and when she was locked away with HIM, having a third attack and he extended his hand, offering to return breath to her lungs… She took it. Horrified, she felt she would die with burning lungs and a strange man's knife a hair away… Pressed between death and a wall for eternity within seconds of uneasy breathing…

And then he was gone.

And when the rest discussed their exit plan, Charlie didn't… He expected to pull through. But how? How could he be so dismissive? How could he be so certain?

Who could blame her when she was gifted an answer? Of course Charlie was going to make it, he had a plan… It made too much sense. He didn't care that she couldn't breathe, didn't care that their jobs- No! Lives, were on the line… He'd just keep blowing smoke and he'd be famous one day and all it would cost was problems, they had a deal! He was complicit.

She thought she was smarter than this…

When she saw him again, she layed into him, layed out all her stupid circumstantial evidence and Mark agreed to leave him to what he deserves… What she thought he deserved.

Mark never made it to the top of the lighthouse, no signal was ever sent and the others…

She tried to flee until she saw him. Charlie. Dead. Because of her… Because of her naivety, because she thought she knew better. She stood on the cliffs edge. Her perceptions shattered, Charlie at the bottom carved up with the word "complicit" scrawled across his chest in messy strokes of a cruel blade… She had wholeheartedly believed he was… What she had been manipulated into being-

She jolted forward! startled as a strong hand came to rest on her shoulder. She tried to get away but with a long drop before her and a blade at her back. Pressed again to death himself, she stumbled. Rushing over the edge. Closer to Charlie. Closer to-

…the end?

The sudden stop came far sooner than expected. One foot just barely planted on the edge. She stared into Charlie's eyes, frozen in place, breath picking up, cold fear chilling her to the bone and hot pain as cruel fingers dig into her wrist. Over the icy wind and the hammering of her heart, she was again breathing with him. Speechless, like him… Guilty like him. Erin began to cry, overwhelmed by all that had happened. That she was had so easily fallen into his hands. She screamed and cried and tried to get away… She couldn't take this, she begged to be let go, figuratively and literally. She didn't care, not when she thought she would join Charlie, not when Du'met's arm wraps around her middle and not when she was pulled back from the edge. When he let go she fell to her knees. Despondent. They're all dead. If she didn't feel so justified, if she looked at the evidence more closely! Maybe they could have been united… Maybe they'd still be-

Alive. For the first time something lit up in Granthem Du'met's eyes as he brushed a hair out of her face. She couldn't stop crying, he wiped away tears even as more streamed uncontrollably down her face. She stared into his eyes, her face carefully held by that monster. Like she was made of glass. Like it would be that easy…

Her recollection becomes vague after that. Exhaustion catching up to her… She remembers the soft warmth of the sun, feeling weightless as her limbs dangled limply. Breathing… Always breathing, his? Hers? She wasn't certain…

__

…she found herself in the darkness… Out of time and half recollected memories… She wanders blind, groping for anything to help guide her… Listening… Always listening, for what? Him? The others? Anything to grant her relief from this nightmare. Rain taps rhythmically off slick stones in winding ways, she follows the wall in this void. Listening to the sound of sharp breaths… She feels the weight of something in hand, cool to the touch, metalic… She's calm… Confident as she follows the noise. Is this how he feels? Pursuing his prey, knife in hand, with no fear-

She stops at the sound of a twig snaping under foot. Soaked to the skin she stands in the rain. Listening… Until another small sound catches her attention. She follows, quiet, small and unseen… Creeping in the darkness until she falls apon him. Taking him by surprise, fighting and winning in the drenched darkness. Blood diluted in the rain. Lightning strikes as she looks down to see-

Charlie. Just as he had been. Dead eyes staring up in shock. His mouth stuffed with bloody scripts as his words scream through her. All the things he'd said as he was abandoned to his fate. She pulls the knife from the last letter of the word. Complicit. Crossing that T with trembling hands-

__

Erin sits bolt upright in bed. Heart pounding as the image of Charlie's broken body fades from her minds eye. She breathes deeply, taking in her surroundings. Heart sinking at the familiar trimmings of Du'met's castle.

The room was larger and more nicely furnished than the one she'd initially checked into. She slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, boots hitting the floorboards, she was wearing the same clothes, thank god. Her inhaler on the bedside table, under it a folded up piece of paper… She steadies herself, unaware of how long she slept but painfully aware of how long it'd been since she ate. Carefully taking the note as if the paper itself could harm her and slowly unfolding it… It took all her strength not to break down as she reads just two words, flanked by suspiciously red hearts in his familiar handwriting.

[<3 WELCOME HOME <3]

He intends to keep her here. She sinks to the floor, knees to her chest, back up against the bed. She was going to die here sooner or later and it'd be entirely on his timetable… She let the note slip from her fingers as she wraps her arms around her legs, burying her face and sobbing, she didn't even care that he was undoubtedly watching… She caught her own reflection in the full length mirror. Pathetic. Her eyes red, hair dishevelled, clothes stained from mud and grass, tears and rain. Tights torn and knees scraped up… There she sits a half drowned rat… The prize in his game of cat and mouse. teary eyes locked on herself in the fetal position… Everyone is dead… She is dead… If she fights, he wins… If she gives up, he wins…

For the 185th time.

She slowly rises to her feet, wiping her face with with her sleeve, coming away with smudged make up. She stands in front of the mirror… Is he behind the glass? Eyes peering through her reflection… Dirty palms flat on the smooth surface, she leans closer, trying to hear him. Imaging him bursting through and taking her life, just like that…She puts her head to the glass, eyes shut as she takes a moment before stepping back to search the room…

One door must be the exit. Secured tightly. Windows barred, a slight breeze moves the translucent white curtains… A clear view of the lighthouse framed as pretty as a picture through immovable metal… He must take joy in this, taunting her with a room with a view of her failed salvation… Her clothes folded neatly in the draws. She hates the thought of him going through her things. Another door leads to a small bathroom. Another note reads.

[NO CAMERAS INSIDE]

She has no choice but to take his word for it, not that it makes a difference at this point. Erin gathers clothes, taking a chair from the room to secure the bathroom door. It brought a sense of safety, if nothing else… Near searing water pours over her aching body, as if it could ever be hot enough to burn away what she allows herself to forget in this moment. Submerged in sickly sweet steam, taking small comfort in her nakedness.

Skin bare… forced to trust, just this little bit, in her most vulnerable state.

As she dressed in fresh clothes she heard the familiar sound of the walls sliding in the hall. To her disbelief the main door of her room was wide open. He wants her to follow whatever path he's layed before her but would it lead to death? Another of his tests? Cautiously she crept into the hallway… It led straight to another room, set up with a table and chairs, appetising food set out for her and she couldn't take it anymore. Throwing caution to the wind she took a seat, desperate to fill her empty stomach, so much so that she hadn't even seen the way he stood at the the far end of the room…

…watching like he always does…

She jumped up as he approached but he points to her chair, the message clear. Sit. So she did as he sat across from her… She avoided eye contact, noticing how blunt her cutlery was. As if she was a damn child. After a moment too long of awkward silence he nudges the plate towards her to encourage her to continue eating. She looks up at him as he stares unblinking. Should she speak? Could she even? Could he? No words were exchanged as she slowly continued her meal, attempting to hide how much she enjoyed it.

When she finished her plate he stood, collecting it and petting her hair before she could react, leaving through one of this many hidden passages. She tries to process what just happened, taking a more thorough look around, pulling every book from the shelves as if she'd be lucky enough to find some secret way out. She kicked the wall he'd left through, letting out her frustration as much as attempting to force her way out, checked the furniture, between cushions, under rugs. She saw the outline of a trap door, covering it back up and avoiding the rug altogether.

After tiring herself out destroying the room she put everything back, who knows how he'd react if he came back to the place turned upside down… Reluctantly, she takes a book and returns to her room.

__

Her life continued like this. Eat, sleep, shower, read, occasionally she heard others screaming beyond the walls of her small apartment. He sits with her at meals, occasionally he eats too, mostly he just watches her. After a time a new hall opens to a walled garden, too tall and sheer to scale, a new addition to her enclosure for surely he saw her as some sort of pet. Deep down she had expected worse, beyond death and disfigurement… Her fears of being torn to shreds by a strange man… But he wasn't a stranger, not anymore… Her fear receding as he becomes part of her routine.

Her hair was growing out, he had slowly added to the previously empty wardrobe. Her mother would shine with pride to see her dressed in the styling of Victorian era India. Perfectly fit to the aesthetic of her surroundings and yet obvious effort had been taken to tailor it to her… The perfect doll in his playhouse. Autonomy traded for a comfortable life in a gilded cage…

She still sees the others in her nightmares. Guilt gnaws at her. She betrays them everyday day that she lives in his house… She writes her thoughts. He allows her that much. The outside world moves on without her and here she is, locked in her tower, no fair lady in shining armour coming for her… The only one who mattered died within these walls…

She sits as he brushes her hair. Resigning herself to her new normal as he gives her a haircut and she notices to her suprise that she feels no fear, not even as the scissors brush past her ears. She can't bring herself to pretend it's a trick… He intends to keep her here for as long as she lives and he intends for her to live… She lifts her eyes to his reflection and watches him as he focuses on his task. His eyes lacked any malice towards her… Why was he doing this to her? Why her?

She begins to tear up as he catches her gaze. Letting out a low mumble, mask not quite obscuring the expression she's learned to associate with concern… He sets down the scissors, a sign that this trust is mutual. He goes to place his hands on her shoulders but hesitates, letting out a sigh before continuing his work. She blinks away her tears and waits for it to be over… Thinking of her garden… Of the roses that grow there… Of the lonely lighthouse. Unlit… Of this breathing… Familiar as her own…

This is her life now.

__

One night she was startled awake. Glass raining across the floor as her mirror shatters. She gets out of bed as a frantic man steps through the new opening. His red hair plastered to his skin with sweat, white shirt stained red, sleeve torn and eyes searching for an out. Harsh red light silhouettes him, framed in the terror she buried deep.

He's barely coherent as he takes her hand, in the other he carries a mirror shard. He goes through the door as the lights flicker on. Her heart pounding as fear engulfs her. Her breath short as this stranger pulls her along. Is she afraid of him? This man who is just another innocent victim lured to his death… She knows Du'met must be close… The wall slides in place. Cutting off the entrance to the garden… They enter the other room, the man stopping in the centre, looking around wildly. Before seem to suddenly realize that she was sleeping peacefully during all this, as his friends were slaughtered, as he was hunted. A darkness crosses his face as recognition dawns on him… He sees that even the gown she slept in was authentic… That she was part of the castle. She tries to pull away as his grip tightens on her hand. He raises the shard as he opens his mouth to question, only to turn as Du'met enters. Bloody axe in hand. Erin is frozen as the man holds the shard to her throat, in an attempt to gain leverage in his situation. She begins to hyperventilate, feeling the sharp glass against her skin, nails digging into her flesh, the soft rug under her feet. Du'met notices the beginnings of her asthma attack, slowly placing the axe on the table… Holding his hands up placatingly as he edges along the wall. The man shifts further away… Du'met shifts his hand along the wallpaper, something clicked under hand and suddenly the rug was ripped was pulled from under her-

The man fell through the trap door. Grasping at her. Scratching up her arms. Draging her down before Du'met catches her. Pulling her back from the hole and wrapping her tightly in his embrace before carrying her back down the hall, taking her inhaler from the draw… As her breathing returns to normal something shifts in her understanding… He attends to her cuts and scratches, sweeps up the glass and she knows... Things are going to change.

__

He leads her through the castle, beckoning her to follow. Down to his control room. So much had changed since she'd been here last. He begins showing her how to change the cameras, how to move the walls and activate the traps. At her confusion he writes:

[YOU WILL NEVER FEEL SAFE UNLESS YOU LEARN]

He wants her to participate? To be complicit? At her shock he adds:

[YOU WILL BE READY, WHEN THE TIME COMES]

She nods, swearing she saw a smile beneath his mask…

And so she begins to learn, first the mechanical functions of the castle and later he shows her other things… Of chemicals and wires, flesh and bone… Desensitising her… And she feels it again, that feeling from a half recollected dream… The confidence that comes with becoming dangerous…

__

She finds herself in darkness… Much like the day they met… Wandering blind, she feels the familiar weight in her hand, the cool metal calming… She understands now. She stays still as she listens… A mechanical whir as animatronics move around her in the dark, plastic, flesh, it made no difference… She moved deftly through them, steps light as she listens for what she's looking for and then there it was. The creaking of a floorboard. Proof that she wasn't alone. She keeps her breathe low and even as she listens… A sharp inhale at the touch of a mannequin… The rapid breathing of prey… The joy of knowing that she no longer relates.

Closing in they never see her coming, another set of gropping hands among densely packed room. Until she pulls the man to the ground. Not wasting the element of surprise before pinning him beneath her weight. Driving the knife into his chest before he has a to process, to turn the tables on her. Blood pours over her hands as she pulls out the knife. Killing her fear, over and over until the man stops moving and the blade is too slick to hold, metalic taste in her mouth, blood splattered across her face as the lights flicker to life.

She smiles up at Du'met, approaching in his slow methodical way, eyes lit up like a proud parent. He offers a hand and she takes it. She has passed the test… Looking only momentarily apon the redheaded man, kept for this purpose. He turns her face to him, holding it between his hands like long ago, wiping blood instead of tears. Holding her close, her head on his shoulder, an absence of fear in this gruesome scene. Blood soaking through her clothes…

__

Today would be perfect. Granthem had never been in the position to have children of his own, never cared to. But now he understood the appeal. As He checked over the details. His effort has payed off, he was no longer alone... Months of planing, delicate lines just so… Erin comes down the main staircase, the vision of perfection that he cultivated… Leading her to the dining room. Brightly coloured streamers, decorations in gold on this very special day. Her eyes light up in surprise that he'd done all this for her birthday. He watched with pride as she unwraps a very special gift, a golden mask that reflects her standing in the world… What she means to him. He watches as, she puts it on… Satisfied. his masterpiece is complete… He'd raised his daughter well.

__

@kassiekole22 @delurkr @blubary @ctrvpani @separatebswithbs

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[the-al-chemist]

Fall For You

A/N: Ah, first love. It doesn’t always last, but it’s sweet while it does. Penny takes a tumble in this one, for @hphm-ship-week’s prompt “Ball”.

Warnings: none.

Penny was in a rush again.

She often was these days; with the Celestial Ball fast approaching and being the one in charge of the organising committee, she felt as if she had an awful lot on her plate. In fact, she felt as if she had a lot on several plates, and all of those plates were spinning on top of sticks. There was just so much that had to be done, from the decorating, to the catering, to the music. And that was before she even thought about herself. She still hadn’t decided what to wear, nor had she found herself a date.

Well, technically, that was only half true. She had decided who she wanted to be her date, but it wasn’t as simple as that. After all, there were plenty of others who would have jumped at the chance to go to a ball with Bill Weasley. Not to mention, Bill was her friend. They had friends in common. One of which was Rowan, who Penny wasn’t certain had fully gotten over her crush on him, and Artemis, who had that strange brother-sister sort of thing going on with him, and Charlie, who actually was his brother.

No, it was not simple. It was actually very complicated indeed.

It would have been less complicated if Penny had been sure that Bill liked her. As in, really liked her, as more than a friend. Because, yes, he always made a point of talking to her when they saw one another in the corridors or the courtyard, and yes, he had offered to help her with her Transfiguration coursework, but Bill would have done those things for any of his friends. And although recently she had thought that he had been looking at her or smiling at her more than he used to, that may have been wishful thinking on her part.

Bill was a sixth year, and clever, and cool. Penny might have been popular and quite pretty, if it wasn’t too vain of her to think so, but she had to be dreaming to think that Bill would ever see her as anything more than one of little brother’s friends. To think that he might actually ask her to be his date for the Celestial Ball, it was…

Penny’s dancing thoughts were interrupted as her foot seemed to hit something — a step or loose stone, perhaps — as she walked. She stumbled, then fell forward, landing on the hard ground, the notebooks and rolls of parchment she had been carrying scattered across the flagstone around her. She turned to look at what she had tripped over, but there was nothing there but air.

“Oh dear.” A shrill voice called out, and Penny looked up to see a group of sixth year Gryffindor girls standing nearby, all sniggering. At the front of the group was Emily Tyler, her wand raised and face smug. She sneered at Penny. “I didn’t realise you were so very clumsy, Penelope.”

As Emily and her friends laughed again, Penny felt her face grow pink and tears prick at her eyes. Embarrassed, frustrated, and determined not to let any of them see her cry, she focused on trying to gather her things back together. A moment later, she was joined by a passerby, who crouched down to help her and made her heart skip a beat.

Bill.

She wasn’t sure if she was happy or not to see him right now. She had just fallen flat on her face. Goodness, he might have just caught a glimpse of her knickers! Penny blushed even more.

“Are you alright, Pen?” Bill asked her, his blue eyes filled with concern. Penny nodded, her voice suddenly gone. “Was the floor wet, or…” He turned and looked at Emily Tyler and her friends, who were now walking away. “Oh, for Godric’s sake. Do you want me to go and give her a detention?”

Penny suddenly had a vision of Bill, dressed like Prince Charming, riding a white pony up the Grand Staircase with a sword in his hand, ready to fight and defend her honour. But then, she had another vision of Emily in her dormitory, talking about her behind her back. She shook her head.

“Oh, no. There’s really no need, Bill. I’m perfectly alright.” To prove her point she smiled, desperately hoping that she hadn’t chipped any of her teeth on the flagstone. Bill did not look convinced. “Really, she’s just upset about the whole Ball committee thing. I would have been upset, too, if she had won the vote and I hadn’t.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think you would have trip-jinxed her because of it.”

“Well, no. I suppose that was a little uncalled for.”

“It was completely uncalled for,” said Bill. He stood up and held a hand out to her. She took it, and he helped her to her feet. “Are you sure—”

“I’m positive, thank you.” Penny, aware that her hand was still in his, let go and took the last of her papers back from him. “And thank you for helping me with these.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, but neither of them moved away from each other, either. It would have been awkward, had Penny not been too busy hoping that he might kiss her to feel any awkwardness. But, of course, he didn’t kiss her. He did, however, glance at her lips. Unless she had imagined. Had she imagined it? Was he thinking about kissing her? Might he like her back?

“It looks like a lot of work, all of this,” he said. Penny shrugged.

“Yes, I suppose it is. But I enjoy it, so I don’t mind.”

“Of course. It must be right up your street. Still, I’m really impressed.” Penny couldn’t stop herself from smiling at Bill’s words. But, he wasn’t done just yet. “You know, if you need a hand with any of it, I’m happy to help. With anything, really, you just need to ask. I mean it.”

He really did mean it, Penny could tell. He really wanted to help her. He wanted to spend time with her. Maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t been imagining things at all.

“Bill…”

“And… Sorry. You go on.”

“Oh, no. No, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise you hadn’t finished speaking,” said Penny. “Please, carry on. What were you saying?”

“Not much. Just that I’m going to be helping out anyway. I’ve signed up to be a chaperone on the night.”

Penny felt her heart drop in her chest. If Bill was going to be a chaperone at the ball, then he wouldn’t be able to go as her date, even if he did want to.

“Anyway, what were you about to say, Pen?”

Her sudden sense of disappointment prevented her from lying.

“Well, I was going to ask you if you wanted to go to the Celestial Ball with me. As my date. But if you’re a chaperone, then that’s not going to work, is it?”

“No.” Bill gave her a pained look. “Sorry.”

There was nothing more to say. Once again, Penny felt the threat of her own tears. She shrugged at Bill in lieu of talking, and walked away from him before she could cry. She couldn’t bear that embarrassment as well.

“Penny, wait.” She stopped, and allowed Bill to catch up with her. “I really am sorry. If I hadn’t volunteered to help, then…”

His voice tailed off, and his sentence went unfinished. After a second, Penny tried to finish it for him.

“Then you would have said yes?”

“Then I would have asked you myself.”

Now it was Bill’s turn to blush. Penny could barely believe her eyes or ears.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I, um… Well, I kind of like you, Pen. I mean, I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.”

The hall in which they were standing wasn’t overly busy, but it wasn’t completely empty either. In that moment, however, it felt as if Penny and Bill could have been the only two people in the whole castle, maybe even in the whole world.

“Maybe if everyone behaves themselves, I’ll be able to get on the dance floor for a few songs,” said Bill. “Maybe you could save a dance for me, just in case?”

“Well, I’ll certainly try,” Penny replied.

The school bell pealed. Their moment was over. It was time for their next lessons to begin. Somewhat awkwardly, they each gestured in the directions they needed to go. Opposite directions.

Penny rose up onto her tiptoes and kissed Bill on the cheek, before walking away from him with a rosy face and a smile that she wouldn’t have been able to suppress if she tried.