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writeyouin · 2 months

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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 - Stories and Dolls

A/N – Okay, so I just quit my job and I’m freefalling right now. Time to channel my anxiety into fanfiction. Also, this chapter is darker so I’m raising the rating to M.

Warnings – MENTIONS OF RAPE, S/A, ABUSE, KIDNAPPING, AND TORTURE.

Rating – M

TAG-LIST: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch @reverse-soe @koirb @usernameunavailable2 @lavenderkita @kannakanan @mcueveryday @amarokofficial @mbruben-stein @tyrythewolf @lasagna-501 @bizzardvark @firefirefeline @kaylanotkk @missme-07 @memontica @angelsdemonsmonsters @tj4shy

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Lucifer had to admit, he was getting used to you. He enjoyed making breakfast a show in the morning, entertaining you with his parlour tricks and general showmanship. You were like a child, easily amused by flashing lights or some sleight of hand.

And of a night, he also found your company less than objectionable, whether you were reading a book in the library with Spick and Span curled up at your feet, in front of a roaring fire (you had conjured them medallions with their names on them, so as to tell them apart), or those nights when you came back from visiting the hotel and regaled him with the tales of its inhabitants. Lucifer was starting to like Angel Dust, even if he didn’t believe the porn star actually had a chance at redemption. Nifty also seemed entertaining, Husk could be a source of wisdom and comfort in equal measure, and Alastair… Well, he was there too, taking up too much of your attention.

Yet, despite his newfound almost-friendship with you, he couldn’t help thinking about what you had said on your first night in the manor.

‘You don’t even know why I’m down here, and you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same.’

You were right. He didn’t know why you were there, and that was driving him crazy. He wanted to like you. Truly, he did. But how could he like you when he didn’t know your sin? People got sent to Hell for a reason! They wasted their free will. They sold drugs to kids, murdered people, trafficked victims, tricked and swindled others. For all Lucifer knew, you were there for drowning puppies.

The thought made him deeply uncomfortable.

Okay. He would ask you about it. No big deal. People probably talked about why they went to Hell a lot right? That was a normal conversation for Sinners, probably…

Lucifer wasn’t entirely wrong in thinking that. However, nearly all Sinners lied about what they went to Hell for, making it even more brutal or horrifying to try and earn some extra credit among their fellow Demons. Someone who had killed one person would claim to have been a serial killer. A low-life drug dealer would paint themselves as a mafioso with a drug empire, and arsonists… They didn’t have to lie much, as fires tended to spread quickly and they generally were as psychotic as they claimed to be.

It was all basic self-preservation in Hell. Be the toughest person there, so nobody could find new ways to hurt you. Kill or be killed (figuratively, since Demons couldn’t technically kill other Demons), sink or swim, do unto others before they did unto you.

Right. When Lucifer next saw you, he would ask.

“Hey Lucifer,” You said upon returning to the manor from the Hotel, “You doing okay?”

Lucifer froze. He hadn’t expected to see you so soon. Fuck.

“Hey bitch,” Lucifer greeted, feeling entirely awkward, yet trying to feign confidence.

“Uh… Back at ya,” You reciprocated confusedly.

“Sooooo,” Lucifer started, steepling his fingers together, and holding them to his mouth, his brow knitting together worriedly, “I have a question for you.”

“Oh.” You were surprised by Lucifer’s admission. While the two of you generally made conversation, he didn’t tend to ask too much. Besides, in the preface of announcing his question, it seemed that he was likely to ask you something personal.

You waved your hand casually, indicating that he was free to ask away.

“How- Uh how was everything at the Hotel? Is my little girl doing okay?”

As you smiled and fell into a description of how Charlie was doing and her general excitement about her meeting with Heaven, Lucifer cursed himself. He knew that what he wanted to ask was important, but it was just so personal. Well, at least he was happy to hear about his daughter. There were also some other colourful stories included in your conversation.

Finally, you wrapped up the conversation, effectively ending it when you casually said, “Anyway, I’m going to get ready for bed. I’m real tired, you know?”

Lucifer didn’t say much as you left, he was still pondering whether you might be a puppy killer or relative and accomplice to that Jeffrey Dahmer fellow, or something equally disturbing. If not… Why were you there?

Having gotten ready for bed, you sighed, letting the day’s events wash over you, lifting a weight off your shoulders. You were tired, but the day had been a good productive one. Moreover, it was nice to end the day by standing out on the balcony, overlooking the rest of Hell.

There was a time when you had died, during which you stood atop a building in the main streets watching all the fights, looting, and maiming, and you were horrified. Then, you met Charlie, and she had been so wonderfully pure, good, and non-judgemental that you had to agree with her. Hell could be a home to you, and all the other Sinners who lived there, and Sinners could always change for the better.

While you held onto the balcony railing, leaning over it, and staring at the red horizon, Lucifer approached your open door at the entrance of your room, knocking despite the open invitation to come in.

You turned and smiled at him, your smile putting him at ease.

“Come in,” You offered.

He did so, crossing the large room and taking quick mental notes of the changes you had made. They were minor, but they spoke of your personality. You had lit scented candles, brightening the room – the official scent name was Tapioca Tit-play.

Subconsciously, Lucifer worked his magic to remove the off-smell that he had placed there; it was redundant when your candles covered it, and he didn’t mind your company so much anymore.

He also observed several other items. There was a photograph of everyone at the Hotel, though you had drawn Alastor on the end in crayon since he didn’t love to be captured in photographs (he could bear it unlike being filmed, but he didn’t care much for it.)

Wrapped around your bedposts were nightlights to keep out the dark. On your bed, you had a teddy of one of Sir Pentious’ egg-bois, a gift from him. Husk had gifted you with a bottle of his best Whiskey, though it remained unopened on the nightstand. There was a cockroach/daisy hybrid necklace wrapped around a book. The candles were from Angel Dust. Beneath your pillow was a dagger, gifted by Vaggie, for your protection. Alastor had given you a collection of books from the store in Cannibal Town, including several that were rumoured to have been stolen from Heaven’s library, though nobody was certain where that rumour started or if it was even true, though there were no copies of the books anywhere else in Hell.

Although Lucifer had no way of knowing these items were all presents from your friends at the Hazbin Hotel, he could tell that you cared deeply for the odd assortment by their placement on the two bedside tables; they had been positioned with care, and were well looked after.

Then, his eye caught the rubber duck, slightly hidden behind the picture frame. He remembered making that one. As a hellhound imitation, it was meant to teleport to whoever needed it most inside the Manor, offering protection should they come under attack. Naturally, he and his family didn’t need such protection, but he had been experimenting with what powers he might imbue unto yet another duck.

He decided not to mention it as he joined you on the balcony, looking you over in your pyjamas.

You also spared him a glance, noting that he seemed more relaxed. Although he was still in his usual attire, he had removed his top-hat-crown and his overcoat, revealing the waistcoat and shirt beneath; the sleeves were rolled up, giving him a more casual appearance.

“Hell’s skies are beautiful, aren’t they,” You stated, returning your gaze to the horizon.

Lucifer looked up, but all he saw was Heaven, the home that didn’t want him.

“(Y/N),” He started, forcing himself to look down, so he wouldn’t have to stare at the painfully beautiful golden glow above.

“Hm?”

“How did you end up here?”

Your grip tightened on the railing drawing Lucifer’s gaze to the whites of your knuckles.

Your whole body became tense and you answered with a ragged breath, “I died.”

“Yes but-” Lucifer was about to lead into the question of your sins, but you spoke up again, seemingly misunderstanding the question as you continued, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“I was- I was murdered.”

Lucifer could have explained that the cause of your death wasn’t what he had been driving at, but now he was darkly fascinated. If you were the same kind-hearted, warm person in life, why would anyone wish to bring about your death?

He remained silent as you began recounting the manner in which you had been killed.

“I had a friend,” You started slowly, taking steady breaths between each part of the story that followed as if it would make it any easier. “I mean- I- I thought he was my friend. I loved him. He knew that. He counted on it.”

“I thought that he travelled for work. That’s what he told me. It’s why he was always coming and going. But no… He was just looking for more people like me. He found people. Made us fall for him. Then he- he took me out on a date. Blindfolded me. Said it was a surprise. I- I trusted him, but the blindfold just made it easier for him to- He knocked me out.”

You subconsciously touched the back of your head, remembering the blow that had come with no warning.

Lucifer turned to you, one hand holding onto the railing, the other planted firmly at his side.

“Did he-” He started to ask.

You shook your head. “It wasn’t rape. It was worse.”

You shivered, waiting until you were certain you weren’t going to vomit. Then you continued, your skin ashy.

“I woke up in a- It was like a cinderblock cell, but it had been sort of decorated to look like a fancy suite?”

You recalled the room. It was damp, and the floor was cheaply produced concrete, given away by the amount of air bubbles which had never been levelled and now pocked the surface, like a teenager with bad acne. The cinderblock walls were easy to see, though some talented artist had been paid to paint it with the likeness of the Ritz hotel or somewhere equally fancy. While that had made it look better, it was still clearly a cinderblock wall; then again, you can’t polish a turd, but you can roll it in glitter.

You had been handcuffed to a chair in the centre of the room. Your clothes had been taken, and you had been dressed in a skimpy shortened tuxedo, with a fitted vest instead of a jacket. You remembered screaming till your voice was raw. You screamed so much that you ended up spitting flecks of blood, but nobody came to save you.

“I- I was tied up,” You said simply, downplaying the memory to Lucifer, more for your own sake than his, though he could see the pain behind your eyes.

Lucifer didn’t interrupt your story, but his anger was growing. Behind him his tail lashed furiously, his eyes became flaming red, and his fangs became sharper. You hadn’t noticed, you were lost in memory, and you had yet to look his way since beginning your story.

You sighed, thinking of the torture, humiliation, and suffering which followed, all at the hands of one man. It wasn’t your captor. It was who he had sold you to.

“It- I was- They were making snuff films. I don’t know how many people died there before or after me but- I was sold to an American. He- He liked to cut things. It was a while before- I don’t know if I bled out, or if my heart stopped, maybe both?”

For the first time, your skin changed colour, turning from your regular human shade to a pale seaweed-green. Against the colourful backdrop, Lucifer could see your now blinding white glowing scars. Upon your death they remained hidden, completely invisible, but now you were distressed… You seemingly did have something of a Demonic appearance after all.

You were a ragdoll.

There wasn’t a part of your body that hadn’t been cut, or originally sliced off, only to be repaired in death. In all likelihood, your real body was probably burned, buried, or dissolved in acid. In Hell, your scars were the stitches that held your body together. Lucifer now understood your human appearance since like a real ragdoll, you were good at playing dress-up. He bet that if you explored your abilities, you would have been able to look like anyone, a skin-changer, but you had adopted your appearance in life; it was likely an accident caused by the trauma of your memories.

“(Y/N),” Lucifer said through gritted teeth. He wanted to be comforting, but he was already thinking of all the ways he would punish your killer and any accomplice he may have had. There were worse things than Death in hell; he would torture those bastards for eternity, and then when he finally grew bored, he would end them with angelic weaponry, wiping their souls from existence, leaving no trace of such monsters.

You didn’t turn to face your King, who was now in his full Demonic form, his rage at its peak.

“Just go,” You murmured despondently, staring over the balcony, and down to the ground. A long drop and a short stop… It was a shame it wouldn’t kill you; at least the pain would end if you died.

“But-” Lucifer reached you to put a hand on your shoulder, his wings almost curling around you as if to envelop you.

“I- I would like to be alone. Please.”

Lucifer hesitantly withdrew his hand, “I’m sorry.”

That was all he said before walking away, leaving you alone.

You wished that you could have been left to wallow, but your phone soon buzzed and you opted to check it in case it was an emergency.

Retrieving it from the bed, you found a message from Charlie.

“EMERGENCY. ANGEL DUST. RELAPSE. GET OVER HERE. PLEASE!”

Damn it! If Charlie was texting you for this, it meant that Husk was either the cause or he wasn’t around to be the solution. Moreover, while Charlie would want to assist her friend, she was likely the last person Angel Dust wanted to see; sometimes, though she was well-intentioned, she just didn’t understand such issues or she could be a bit much.

Still stuck in your ragdoll body, you ran back to the balcony and vaulted over the edge. It wasn’t a smooth landing, and it hurt a lot. Anyone else would have broken their bones, but when you were like this, there wasn’t anything else that could be broken. Everything had already been torn off you. Ignoring the pain, you ran until you found a taxi. You took it to the Hotel.

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mochinomnoms · 3 months

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WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Congrats on 1k followers Mochi (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ ) ♡ you so so so so deserve it. You always make me smile when I see your posts so I hope you have fun writing them.

If I might make a request, could I have Jade, Trey, and Ace with a romantic prompt 16 (“I won't lose you again.”)? I want to see them cry a lot just a tiny bit. Feel free to let the vibes guide you, I trust it will be very good.

-Yuri

jade leech, trey clover, ace trappola (separate) x gn!reader [tags] — angst in Ace's, hurt in Trey's, humor in Jade, implied time loop theory [wc} - 1,000+ each prompt 16: “I won't lose you again.” song: Be, Talk (Hozier, “Wasteland, Baby!”), Francesca (Hozier, “Unreal Unearth”) note - @yuri-is-online got it! went a lil wild cause I got massive inspo lmao. Also, let me know if yall can guess the anime I got inspired from with Ace's francesca (1k event)

“Be like the love that discovered the sin (Lover, be good to me) / That freed the first man and will do so again / And, lover, be good to me (Lover, be good to me)”

There were several things that caught Jade Leech’s attention during his life, but only a few kept his attention, after which he’d abandon his ‘toy’. Fungi, mountains, and poisonous flowers, were exceptions, to name a few. He had to admit to himself (and only himself) that there was one thing that revolved in his mind all this time later, dug deep into his brain like the mycelium of his beloved mushrooms in the forest floor.

One. Thing. You. The funny little human from the broken down dorm. The funny little human with not a single ounce of magic in their veins. The cute little human that was captivated by his merform, an entirely foreign concept to them. The sweet little human with the even sweeter crush on him all throughout his second and third years.

Perhaps it was cruel of him to entertain your affections with no real desire to follow through on them. Actually, scratch that, it was cruel of him to do so. It was just so…interesting to him at the time. He grew alongside his brother and Azul, none of them exactly being the most sought after during their childhood or teens. They were feared, each of them for multiple reasons, not exactly prime boyfriend material, despite some of their attempts to curate a specially crafted facade.

Yet, you were so bewitched by him, enthralled, beguiled, and dare he say lovesick with him despite all the signs screaming “DANGER! DANGER! DANGER!” So please, forgive him for shamelessly flirting, and finding entertainment in your reactions.

The dilated pupils as he leaned down to make eye contact. The sharp intakes when he cornered you against a library shelf, nonchalantly reaching for a random book. The shiver down your spine as he would lean over in class to whisper some nonsense in your ear regarding the class. All for the sole purpose to see you blush a pretty color and get flustered. Not for the jump in his heart at the thought of being revered so sweetly, or a potential lover being so good to him.

It was just a bit of fun. That’s all it was. That’s all it was meant to be, when he finally left for his internship his third year. He paid no mind to the wistful look on your face as he gave his goodbyes, nor the strange creak in his heart at the sight.

Jade Leech was all he’s always been, and all he will ever be: a man that left his toys once they ceased to interest him.

Which is why he loathed that he’s been unable to remove you from his mind. Though, did he really? It wasn’t annoyance or hate, but an aching yearning that resided in his being. Jade spent many months tossing and turning in bed as he dreamt of you: shy smiles, soft eyes, and sweet words. He wanted, he needed to be free from this love-struck feeling, this infatuation. It was dragging him down from his finely constructed pedestal, like a sin striking an angel down from heaven.

Yet, coming back to campus now, presenting his internship research at the end of the year, Jade found himself strangely content with the concept as he watched you. You’d taken on your role at NRC quite beautifully, and were the object of affection for many admirers, much to his dismay. Currently, you were attending to visitors, directing them to their destinations and helping the fourth years find their old clubs and friends, while he admired from around the corner.

You were as you’ve always been, sweet, cute, and clueless to your surroundings as he stalked closer until he was behind you, leaning down until his lips inched close to your ear.

He purred breathlessly into your ear, “Oh Prefect~ Is that you, my dear?” Jade didn’t miss the shudder that flew up your spine as you jumped away in shock.

“EEP! W-what the—” You whipped your head around to berate the man before realizing who it was. “Oh, jeez, Jade! You’re back—why’d you do that?!”

The tall man chuckled as he straightened to his normal height. Oh, how he missed you. And your reactions, of course.

“I simply missed your delightful expressions, you always have been rather reactive with me, haven’t you?”

“What—nooo. I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Huffing, you crossed your arms and jerked your gaze away in irritation. At least, it would be if not for the blush on your cheeks.

“Fuhuhuh, that blush suggests otherwise.” A giddy feeling filled his chest as Jade inched closer to you, in which you backed away. This continued until he managed to corner you against the stone way of the hallway.

“This is a familiar sight, is it not?” Jade cooed as he leaned down again, a hand reaching to caress your cheek. “I did miss you, didn’t you—”

A smack. Jade blinked in surprise as his hand was thrown back by your own. Now you looked more annoyed than flustered.

“I’m sure you did.” You hissed sarcastically, narrowing your gaze at him. “Ha! Please, more like missed messing with me. If you really missed me, you’d’ve called or messaged me like the others in our class. Even Azul checked up on me!”

Jade…hadn’t been aware of that. He’s been too into his own head, reliving memories with you that it hadn’t occurred to him that you’d actually might lose affection for him.

The thought made him a little sick.

He pouted, taking your chin in his hand to tilt your head up to his. “Is that so? Please forgive me for my most egregious sin. I don’t wish to lose you again.”

“Hmph, again?” You made a sound of offense. Despite your words, you still looked up at Jade with a shy gaze, eyes darting down to his lips every so often.

You never had me in the first place.” You scoffed, trying to avert your blushing gaze, though he kept a firm grip, moving to squeeze your cheeks into a pucker.

Jade chuckled, “Your previous actions say otherwise, though I am quite a fool for not taking what was mine in the first place.”

“Y-yours?! You-you-you can’t just say things like that—eep!” You let you a deliciously cute squeak, which he swallowed up as he stole a kiss.

“Now, now my little lover, be good to me and let me revel in your affections, I’ve derived myself from them for far too long now, have I not?”

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness in Eurydice / Imagine being loved by me / I won't deny I've got in my mind now (Hey, yeah) / All the things I would do

He wasn’t sure why he had any faith in Crowley to get you back home. Really, that’s on him for thinking the headmage would put any work into your return home. If Trey had known that you’d still be here in Twisted Wonderland, years after his graduation, he wouldn’t have ever broken up with you.

Granted, it hadn’t exactly been his choice in the first place, as you had abruptly ended the relationship towards the end of his fourth year. Told him to enjoy his life without you weighing him down, despite his insistence that you’d do no such thing.

Trey finally relented when you told him that you had a world, a family, a home (without him) to get to. Somewhere you belonged, somewhere that wasn’t with him.

It hurt, yes, knowing that you were never really meant to be with him in the first place. It was simply by magical chance that you were plucked from your world to turn his own upside down. Likewise, it was simply by chance that you and him got together to steal and eat his heart, leaving him almost an empty shell of himself.

So it was a surprise to see you at Riddle’s wedding, of all places, dressed up in a pretty green outfit as you giggled with some bridesmaids. Seven, you looked good, the fabric hugging all the right spots. Maybe he was being a bit delusional, but Trey swears that the green of your outfit matched the color of his hair, and he had a small possessive streak pass through him at the thought. If it wasn’t for Cater pinching his arm, Trey would be sure that he was in a dream.

“Ow! Cater!” Trey hissed, rubbing his arm as the strawberry-blonde smirked at him. Cater’s hair was longer now, but he kept his signature style from school still.

“Go on, talk to them.” Cater nudged him with his elbow, gesturing to you. “I know you want too~”

Trey huffed, watching the liquid in his cup as he swirled his punch. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, come on!” Cater whined, latching on to Trey’s arm.

“We didn’t end on good terms.”

Cater countered, “You didn’t end on bad ones either.”

“Hmph.” Trey clicked his tongue, eyeing you from the corner of his eye. Your hair had grown longer, and was dyed. It looked nice on you.

Still leaning against Trey, Cater pouted before a mischievous look passed over his face as he leaned in to whisper in Trey’s ear.

“Besides, I heard they’ve stayed single since being with you.”

“…” A sigh. “Really?”

“Totes, so you really ought to go make a move before that blonde dude does, though it doesn’t look like he’s having much luck.”

Finally deciding to look up, Trey noticed your uncomfortable expression as the guy twirled a strand of your hair with his fingers. Despite being known for being rather mild-mannered, a handful of your mutual friends knew the truth: Trey had a nasty jealous streak where you were concerned.

He wasn’t sure when or how he got across the room, but Trey was suddenly hovering over you and the blond man, hazel eyes piercing his back. Surprise flitted your features as a hand was offered to you, along with a familiar.

“Sorry, hope I’m not interrupting.” Trey had to withhold a smug smirk as he saw your eyes light up at the sight of him. “But would you mind sharing a dance?”

You eagerly nodded, taking his hand and mumbling a half-hearted apology to the other man as Trey guided you to the dance floor, filled with couples sharing a dance to the latest love song.

His hands rested on the familiar curve of your waist as your arms wrapped around his neck, hesitating before finally settling your hands on the back of his neck. The two of you swayed to the music, a surprisingly comfortable silence between you two. Honestly? It was as if you two never broke up, with how your bodies curled into each other, heart-to-heart.

Yet, neither one of you seems willing to start the conversation he was begging to have.

“… You look beautiful—”

“You look wonderful—”

Both of you opened your mouths at the same time, interrupting each other before sharing a giggle.

“Sorry, sorry. You go first.”

Trey shook his head. “No, go ahead.”

You smiled, something soft and a bit sad, before looking him up and down. “You look good, got stockier. The bakery’s got you working hard, hm?”

“Ha, yeah. It has, what…about you?”

Your lips thinned, as you looked away. “Still at NRC with Grim, we teach the new Beast-tamer curriculum. It’s…fun.”

Silence fell over you two again, the elephant in the room hanging between you two.

“You’ve been here, all this time, then?”

You nodded, a sliver of shame passing over your features.

“He never did find me a way home after we…you know…”

Trey sharply inhaled, tightening his grip and rubbing soothing circles as he nodded. “Yeah…why didn’t you…tell me. Why didn’t you come back?” He left out the ‘to me.’

You stopped dancing, making him stumble slightly as he watched your face intently, heart aching at the tears growing in your eyes.

“I—” Trey watched as you swallowed a lump in your throat, voice shaky. “—I felt so bad that you’d spent your time and energy on being with me when I might not even stay, so I wanted you to go off and live life. But then, he never did find me a way back, and I realized that I just pushed you away, and I just couldn’t face you—”

You broke into sobs, burying your face into his chest as Trey led you away from the dance floor. He managed to pull you into a secluded hallway, one for the staff to enter in and out of the kitchen. Trey held you close as he rubbed your back, resting his cheek on the top of your head as you rested into the crook of his neck.

“I-I'm sorry… I shouldn't be…” You were sniffling, letting out little hiccups as you spoke. “—crying like this… I'm not trying to make you… feel bad… I just… I should go…”

As you moved to pull away, Trey tightened his grip, hand reaching up to caress your cheek as you looked up at him with watery eyes. You were as beautiful as the day you left him, tears streaking your makeup and all.

“Don’t, please, I—” Trey sighed, resting his forehead against yours. “I won’t lose you again. I missed you so much, please, stay?”

You nodded, still sniffling, as you moved to kiss the palm holding your cheek. “I missed you too, but aren’t you mad at me? For not coming back?”

Trey shook his head, smiling softly at you. Whatever anger he had was immediately forgiven at the sight of you before him. He couldn’t care less about the last few years, as long as he had you back in his arms again.

“As long as I can have you back in my arms, the past is forgiven. As long as…you’ll have me?”

The two of you shared another sweet smile, leaning into each other to press your lips in a soft, fleeting kiss. The type of kiss you give when you can’t tell the difference between a dream and reality. Cater’s quick photo of you two lovers would later help cement that fact that this was reality.

It’s a week later that Trey has that exact same picture set as his home and lock screen.

I'd tell them, "Put me back in it" (Da-ah, darlin') / I would do it again (Ah-ah, ah-ah) / If I could hold you for a minute (Da-ah, darlin') / I'd go through it again (Ah-ah, ah-ah)

It’s all dark. It’s always dark until the moment Ace opens his eyes and the coffin opens. Ace goes through the orientation ceremony, only to have it interrupted by you stumbling into the Mirror Chamber, an energetic and egotistical Grim demanding to take your spot.

It’s dark in the cave that he goes into with you two and Deuce to collect the new chandelier magistone. You're screaming, he’s screaming, so are Deuce and Grim. It’s a shit show, even before Riddle comes to drag him and Deuce back to the dorm.

It’s dark when he makes the trek to your dorm after being collared. Grumbling about just wanting a snack, about Riddle’s unnecessary rage, and about who the hell can remember all 810 rules. It’s light, though, that he sees when you open the door to Ramshackle, the warm, old lightbulbs from the hallway creating a halo around you.

It’s light again, in the morning as the sun filters through the broken window, you poking him awake to get to class.

Ace has never been one to get sentimental, the idea of love is frightening, to be frank. But looking at you again, light curtaining your features, he was reminded why he did what he did.

Why he punched Riddle for his outburst and insults to you.

Why he threw himself into the fight against Leona as he threatened to turn you to sand.

Why he let himself get “tricked” by Azul again and again, get beaten up by the twins under the sea again and again. Why he tried to run back to school to your rescue, only to be too late again and again. Why he endured the embarrassment of losing the SDC.

He’d hoped that this time he’d be able to avoid getting into a coma from the S.T.Y.X. Charon robots again, but he had no luck, so you once again had to depend on Rook and Epel getting you through the Isle of Woe. Maybe he should’ve focused on getting Grim back after scratching you, or maybe just prevented him from eating all the blot stones, then you wouldn’t have been in this mess.

It might have prevented Malleus’s own blot, though Ace wasn’t really sure what led to his spiraling. It was probably a combination of a lot of information, as it was with the rest of the blots. Either way, he’d been hoping that preventing Grim from eating the 8th blot stone would’ve prevented this.

Ace wouldn’t know though, as he’s been through this year at least 4 times now. Trying to prevent what he’s slowly starting to believe is inevitable.

He’s replayed your deaths over and over in his brain. The first one that happened, he was upset for losing a friend, but probably would’ve gotten over it. It sounds harsh, but that was the reality of the situation.

After the second loop, Ace started noticing you more. Things he missed out on the first time. The way you smiled, the way you walked, the way you tugged on your shirt when you were nervous. It was cute.

It was his third loop that he started noticing little things. How you liked to grab on to his arm when it got too crowded. How you always made an effort to help him in class, despite having to catch up with nearly 2 decades of curriculum just to understand the professors. He noticed how you’d blush whenever he’d make flirty jokes.

It was his fourth, and current, loop that he really started to view you differently. That he started to view these second, third, and fourth chances as a way to keep you safe. To not lose you again.

You were always helping him, despite the stress he caused you. Every time you’d let him crash in your dorm, eventually convincing you to let him share at least your room. He’d be up, tossing and turning as he watched your sleep. He wasn’t trying to be creepy, but seeing you take your whole situation in stride, every overblot, every condescending comment, every shenanigan Grim, Deuce, and him really made Ace think about why he was doing this.

Was it because he felt bad? No, it certainly wasn’t the first time, anyway. Was it because he liked having you around? Kinda, maybe a little. Was it because every time he’d ask you why you got involved with all the drama at school, you’d answer with a shrug, a smile, and simply answer “I gotta protect my friends, as best I can anyway.” That was probably partially the reason.

He thinks the reason he’s so desperate to make sure you stay around is because of the promise you made with him the first loop around: “If I can’t go home, let’s always stick together! I like you, and you like me, so we can support each other every way we can.”

You’d made this promise, in one form or another, every loop.

“Promise we’ll stay friends, even after graduation! I wanna stick by my first friend’s side!”

“Ace? Do you actually promise to take care of me? I know I’m a pain, no magic and all, but I’ve taken care of you in my own way, do you really promise to do the same?”

It was his fourth time watching you live your year in Twisted Wonderland. And it’s then that it clicked for him: he was falling deep into love with the magicless Prefect that cared way too much for others, and much too little for themselves.

“Ace…” you gasped, a bloodied hand reaching out for him as an overblotted Grim made a rampage throughout the Mirror Chamber. He could hear the others screaming, magic being cast, and a distinct yowl from Grim as Riddle launched another fire spell at him.

Ace cringed as the giant direbeast that was once his little fiery friend screamed in pain, running around until he tripped and fell through where there was once a wall. Grim let out an eerie, inhuman scream as he fell, a sickening crunch echoing as he landed on the stone ground. For the fourth time, Grim was gone. But that didn’t matter, not when he was watching you die for the fourth time.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey I’m here.” Ace had managed to crawl over to you, clasping your hand with his own. He rested your head on his lap as you coughed, red liquid leaving your mouth as you did.

“No, nononononono—you’re fine!” Ace hyperventilated as he looked over your battered body. He was sure that he had prevented Grim from eating Vil’s blot stone. Was that not the reason he turned into this? Did he only need to eat a few before turning into a monster? He was so confident that he’d managed to keep you safe. So why? Whywhywhywhywhywhywhy—

“Ace.” He froze as you murmured his name, your other hand reaching for his cheek, wiping away the tears he didn’t realize he was leaving.

“Ace, promise me you’ll stay with me? I don’t want to be alone right now…” you hiccuped as you started crying, curling into his chest as Ace cradled you. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t help! I was so useless, so useless to let Grim get to this point. So useless as a friend, I’m so sorry!”

Ace curled into you, ignoring the voices from behind you two, no doubt the other students coming to the realization that you’d be grievously harmed.

“I’ll stay with you, I’m always with you.” Ace shuddered. He felt like throwing up. “I’m going to try again, I won’t be too late this time. I’ll make sure to keep you safe this time. I won't lose you again.”

Ace ignored the person shaking his shoulder as he watched you hyperventilate, before your breathing slowed and eventually stopped. He ignored the surprised cries as magic swirled around him, as he activated his signature spell for the fifth, and hopefully final time:

With a flick of the wand, a rhythm sublime,

Reverse The Clock, turn back the chime,

No time to say 'Hello', goodbye!

I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!

It’s all dark. It’s always dark until the moment Ace opens his eyes and the coffin opens for the fifth time.

comments and reblogs appreciated 🩷

#mochi asks #twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jade leech x reader #trey clover x reader #ace trapolla x reader #jade leech #trey clover #ace trappola #francesca (1k event)#mochi fic

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kaminocasey · 5 months

Text

25 Days of Life Day Prompts

Yes, Life Day is in November, technically BUT that's still not stopping me from doing this again lol.

Here are the prompts again this year. Taken from last year's ofc. If You want to mix it up, please feel free. Artists are more than welcome, also! Feel free to tag me in yours if you do them! And don't feel obligated to do every single prompt. It's meant to be fun! Please RB to get the word out! And make sure to use #25 Days Of Life Day

I will also be doing a separate masterlist that will be posted later!

Prompts under the cut!

Tree Decorating

Hot cocoa

Sledding

Decorating the House

Fireplace Cuddles

Making Fudge

Going to see the Life Day Light Displays/Parade

Decorating Gingerbread House

Christmas Prank

Cookie Decorating

Buying Matching Holiday sweaters

Seeing a Life Day Ballet

Decorating the Place they reside

Snowball Fight

Free Space - Whatever you Want

Making Mulled Wine and Cider, listening to music

Wrapping Life Day Gifts

Life Day Tree shopping

Going to a Life Day Market

Volunteering at a Food Bank

Warm Bath together after going for a walk in the snow

Sucking on a Candy Cane and teasing him.

Making snow angels

Life Day Eve, Watching Life Day movies

Your Choice - Life Day

TAGS:

EVERYTHING @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redhairgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover @rebelsriley

#25 Days Of Life Day #25 Days of Life Day 2023 #kaminocaseywrites

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moqi2004 · 3 months

Note

uhmmM UHMMM CORN YAOI MARRIAGE BANTER MAYBE? FIC WHERE THEY ARE HAPPY AND MARRIED AND LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER..........

Anon to let you know I saw you ask this literally like four minutes after the post went up, I was beyond amazed. Ask speedrun award goes to this person.

Also sorry I made your happy happy fic hurt/comfort I couldn't help myself...

Marriage Banter

Words: 913

cross-posted on Ao3

tags: hurt/comfort, wedding anniversary, lazy mornings, breakfast in bed, self-doubt, fluff, Dalv being kinda traumatised but he's doing his best, hugs and kisses, no beta.

Summary: Dalv overthinks about his past. His husband unknowingly cheers him up with a little surprise on a special day.

Fic under the cut :) enjoy

Dalv never expected this would be him. That life could be kind to him. He had spent an entire year hiding… Not of the unknown, mind you - the unknown was his only friend back then. No, it was the known that was truly scary. What he’d seen with his own eyes, felt within his own chest, tasted within his fearful breaths. The sound of her cries… He couldn’t deal with that life, where he could be hurt all over again. No, hiding was safer. His cornfield was there, his projects. Pops and Broom were his only friends… Sure, Penilla and Decibat were kind to him, but that was it.

Then Clover showed up. Clover, who reached out their hand even when Dalv attacked them. Clover, who showed them he couldn’t predict the world by hiding. Clover, who made time to visit him in Snowdin. Clover, who he never got a chance to say goodbye to…

No. Dalv’s eyelids fluttered open. Now was not the time for that. Not today.

He rolled over to his side, only to find the bed empty. Where… Where was his husband? This wasn’t the first time Dalv had woken up alone, but usually he knew about it beforehand. He knew that they would be spending the day together, and yet his absence only made him paranoid… Dalv shook his head. Not. Today. No getting in his own head! Everything would be okay. Everything is-

Dalv snapped to attention. The door creaked open, just a notch. For a few seconds, there was nothing… From the gap in the door, Dalv could see something. He squinted, focusing as hard as he could, and yet he couldn’t make it out. It was then that, higher up from the object, something yellow moved to peek through the crevice. An eye was staring at him, the white shining from the glasses protecting them. He noticed it widen, which made Dalv lift a hand up to suppress his laughter.

“Dal, yer not supposed to be awake! Goshdarn it…”

Dalv couldn’t hold it in, his face scrunching as he giggled. The door fully opened itself to reveal his husband, dressed in casual teal sweatpants and a black shirt with a sleeping horse on it reading “ride off into dreamland”. Dalv recalled that Starlo’s posse got that shirt for him. Dalv then realised what the object he couldn’t describe was: the corner of a tray. It was now fully in view, holding two steaming breakfast plates. On it was some sausages, hash browns, and-

“Corn?” Dalv tilted his head slightly, a fond smile forming on his face.

“‘Course!” Starlo smirked proudly, “straight from my parent’s farm! Only the best fer you.”

Starlo walked next to Dalv and carefully placed the tray in his lap, the fresh corn smell causing Dalv’s mouth to water. Starlo leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Dalv’s cheek before moving to his side of the bed, sliding in next to his husband and reaching over for his own plate of food.

“Mmmm, this is so good,” Dalv munched contently, “your cooking is getting better and better by the day.”

“I hope so,” Starlo sighed, “can’t have Martlet fixin’ the stove again…”

“Or Ceroba scolding you,” Dalv smiled.

“Angel above, especially not that…”

“Oh, uh, and about that entrance?”

“It was suppos’ta be a surprise!” Starlo moved his hand to rest between the points on his head, “nothin’ much, mind you, but just a lil’ somethin fer-”

Dalv watched, amused, as Starlo’s face flushed a deep red. Starlo collected himself with a deep breath, a tell Dalv had learnt over the last year of their marriage and their time dating before that. Starlo quickly flipped to his North Star persona, leaning towards Dalv with a wink.

“A lil’ somethin for the most charmin vampire in the Wild East.”

Dalv felt his own cheeks warm at the corny attempt at flirting. Even after Starlo grew more confident to be himself around Dalv, he still couldn’t deny being charmed by both sides of his husband - the confident sheriff and the dorky farmboy. Starlo then leaned forwards to press a light peck to Dalv’s lips. The contact was fleeting and brief, yet it hit Dalv square in his soul. He turned away, beet red, noticing Starlo do the same out of the corner of his eye. Dalv melted completely at the sight.

The two of them soon recovered from their lovestruck thoughts and enjoyed their lazy morning breakfast, Starlo chatting constantly between mouthfulls.

“So, I’ve got tha whole day planned out,” he gave Dalv finger guns, “first, this. Then imma give you my gift; thought I’d tell ya instead of makin’ it a surprise. Then we’ll head on down to Snowdin for a lunch break, cause I know ya love the food they’ve got over at the Honeydew Resort. After that, we come back here and celebrate a lil bit with Ceroba, Martlet, and my posse. And finally, there’s nothin planned for the evenin’! Just, uh, potentially cowboy movies and cuddlin..? I didn’t wanna do anything too crazy since I know yer prefer time to recharge and-”

“It sounds perfect, Star,” Dalv leant against Starlo’s shoulder, content.

Dalv mentally thanked Clover for allowing him this chance. For the opportunity to make friends, to take steps he never thought possible. Without meeting Clover, Dalv would have never met Starlo.

“Happy Anniversary, Dal,” Starlo wrapped his arms around Dalv’s smaller frame, “love ya’.”

“Love you too.”

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

Author's note:

ANON I HOPE THIS IS GOOD HONESTLY I MIGHT HAVE GONE TOO FAR FROM WHAT YOU WERE ASKING FOR BUT ONCE THE IDEAD WAS IN MY HEAD I COULDN'T STOP ;w;

As of making this post (the 16th of January 2024) asks are still open! You can find more info by going to my pinned blog post :)

REBLOGS > LIKES

#corn yaoi #north star uty #starlo uty #dalv uty #dalv x starlo #writing #tumblr request #moqi original #moqi asks #undertale yellow

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daisyful-gvf · 2 years

Text

honey & chamomile, peaches & cream // by daisyful

18+

****************************************

pairings: jake kiszka x reader

notes: this is kind of vulgar i’m ngl but in a sweet way sorry abt it . i barely edited this sorry for any errors lol

tags: fluff and smut, oral sex, fingering, praise, pet names, i guess what you’d consider dirty talk but it’s rly endearing 😋

word count: 3.8k

summary: you’re tired and jake wants to help you relax 💗

*****************************************

He handed you the chamomile tea before he climbed back into bed. It was perfect, just how you liked it, with honey and a splash of oat milk. You hummed at it and offered him a soft smile.

“Good?” he asked upon your first sip. He slipped under the covers with you.

You nodded, blowing on it softly to cool it.

Another episode of the nature show you were watching ended, and then it faded into the next. You felt so comfortable like this.

“Put your arm around me?” You asked him softly, taking another sip. He nodded and did as you asked.

You took a moment to look into his eyes. They were surreal. So soft and brown, so clear and mellow. Serene and interesting. Magnetic. Deep. You could get lost in them—a silly expression had never resonated more.

He let you look into them for a while without breaking the silence, without any teasing or questioning. He stared back, easy, and brought his other hand around to touch your face.

“I care for you so much,” he breathed. Your heart stuttered. You knew he loved you; he knew you loved him. This was his way of saying more. “You’re so special.”

You bit your lip, trying to help the grin that was appearing on your face.

“Does my girl like that?” he teased before softening again, “You are,” he repeated. He glanced over your face and hummed. “Drink your tea, angel,” he encouraged, sitting back how he was before, rubbing your shoulder with his hand.

You smiled and you did; sipped the warm tea, let your weight sink into the bed. Watched the bees swarm through the clovers on the TV.

After a long comfortable silence disturbed only by the nature sounds, Jake spoke again.

“I love you,” he said, low and quiet, “I love these kind of nights with you.”

You looked over to meet his gaze. He had a small smile, and his eyes watched your lips. His hair was a mess—not brushed, that’s for sure, pulled into a low bun with some strands untucked. He was shirtless, but had soft pajama bottoms on that grazed your bare thigh sweetly. You had on one of their band shirts, a size too big and extra cozy. He toyed with the hem of it with the hand that was around your shoulders.

“Me too,” you whispered back, taking another drink of your tea.

“Lemme try that,” Jake murmured, reaching for the cup. You gave it to him.

His eyes closed as he drank, and you wished you could have had your phone out fast enough to take a picture: his dark eyelashes thick with the low light, his large hands around the vintage mug, his lips pursed beautifully. Stunning.

He hummed, “S’good,” he wiped his lip as he handed the cup back to you, “Relaxing.”

You nodded, taking another drink. His hand moved from your shoulders, instead resting on your thigh under the blanket.

“You relaxed?” He murmured, tracing his fingers on your leg.

You nodded, “Almost sleepy,”

He nodded, then, still skirting his fingers up and down your leg.

“Drink your tea, angel,” he murmured again.

“Why do you want me to finish my tea so badly?“ You grinned, taking another drink. Almost done.

He licked his bottom lip, “Just wanna spend time with you,” he answered.

“Yeah?” you took another sip. You swallowed, “We are spending time together,” you pointed out lovingly.

He laughed gently, “Yeah,” he agreed, “I know.”

You cocked an eyebrow at his cryptic language, but dismissed him, as you were sleepy; maybe you were just missing something.

You took your final drink of tea and sat it on the nightstand.

When you moved to sit back down, Jake's hand was gently at your cheek, pulling you into a kiss. It was languid and loving. He sighed into you, his breath warm.

He pulled away slow, his smile full-fledging.

“More?” he asked, his voice a low purr. You nodded, sporting a similar grin.

You kissed him again, feeling his lips on yours, feeling his tongue swipe over your bottom lip, feeling the pad of his thumb on your cheek.

“You’re so sweet,” he breathed. He moved his kisses to your cheek, then to your jaw. He slid his hand down to hold your head, guiding it to the side so he could lean down and kiss your neck.

“What are you doing, Jacob?” you sighed, letting your eyes close. He chuckled at the name.

“Jacob, huh?” he nipped softly at your neck, “I’m kissing you.” he pointed out, matter-of-fact. You laughed again.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you giggled. He moved to the other side of your neck. Your skin heated slightly. Your body was still very dazed by a sleepy weight.

“I wanna take care of you,” he murmured into your skin, “That okay?“

You turned his words over in your head, “How so?”

He licked at your neck then, no longer soft and easy. His hand skirted over your thigh and between your legs to rub softly over your cotton underwear.

“Jake,” you sighed.

“Mm?” he questioned, licking at your shoulder, his body sinking lower down the bed, “This okay?” he asked again.

You nodded, reaching down to push the middle of your panties to the side. He breathed out, registering the motion, and sliding his fingers against you tenderly.

You let your head fall back, your eyes shut. You sank your body lower down the bed so your head could fall back into the pillow, knowing his hand would follow you, and so it did.

He moved, then, planting a final kiss to the top of your hand before settling between your legs. His waist down was covered by the white duvet. His skin looked sinfully tan contrasted against it.

He peppered kisses over your thighs, rubbing his large hands over the sides of them. The low bun looked ridiculously good on him; you wished he wore it like that more.

He looked up at you, his lips hovering over the skin of your thigh. His lips curled into a grin: sweet, not cocky.

“You’re lovely,” He purred, “you taste like home,” he licked a kiss over your thigh as if to prove his point.

You were blushing and you knew it, but it was too sweet to scold him.

“I wanna talk to you,” he said. He pulled your panties back over to cover you, and he rubbed the pad of his thumb gently over the fabric, over your clit, a loving sort of tease. “Can I talk to you, angel?”

You nodded, curious, “Of course. Where’s this coming from?”

Your eyelids were heavy, and you knew you were looking at him only half-way.

He giggled, “Sleepy girl,” he said, pressing a light kiss to your heat through the fabric, “I just love you,” he explained, “Just feel very in love right now, wanna make you feel cared for.”

Your heart fluttered at that: full-on butterflies.

“Yeah?” You glanced down at him, toying with the strands of hair that framed his face, “I love you,” you managed, a small yawn esapcing you.

He kissed you through your panties again, “If you fall asleep is it okay if I keep going?” he murmured, his empty hand tracing your thigh, “Not gonna fuck you,” he clarified, “just go down on you, finger you. That okay?”

You groaned, sleepy but aroused, “Yeah,” you breathed, “I won’t, though,” you grinned, “Couldn’t if I wanted to, I wanna feel it.”

He giggled, licking over your panties. A shaky breath escaped you. His touch was wonderful—nothing urgent, only loving, only soft.

He settled down, his head lowered between your legs, one arm curled under your thigh to hold your hip, the other elbow over your hip, fingers working lightly over your panties.

He licked at the crease of your inner thigh, and you whined.

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he breathed, licking again, “love how you sound for me.”

Your hand stayed on his head, sort of wound into the roots of his hair, only barely. Your other hand rested on your chest.

“Pull your shirt up for me, pretty girl?” He asked softly, “Please? Wanna see your pretty tits,” He licked over you again, and you knew the panties had to be soaking by now.

You complied, hiking the large shirt just far enough up to reveal your breasts, the fabric resting easily just above your nipples. The air hitting your skin made your hips writhe. He held you with his arm.

“Mm,” he licked his lips, looking up at you, “So perfect,”

You blushed again, grinning, feeling nothing but pure adoration for him.

He finally nudged your panties to the side. You watched as he sucked on two of his finger tips before bringing them down to rub over you. You sighed heavily, a smile finding its way naturally to your face.

“My pretty girl like that?” He asked, eyes fixed on his fingers.

“Mmhm,” you sighed, pushing your hips up to meet his touch.

“Good, baby,” he soothed, “I love my pretty girl.” His voice was so low and soft. It cracked often, in a devastatingly arousing way.

“You look like heaven, angel,” he purred, “I call you angel for so many reasons. This is just one,” he placed a soft kiss to your clit and you whined, “look like heaven, taste like heaven.”

He rubbed his finger over your clit again and you moaned, the flesh swollen from the teasing.

“Mm,” he encouraged, “sound like heaven, like some perfect chord,” he kitten-licked again and you let out a shaky sigh, “you like that, angel?”

God, you loved when he talked. You wished he would never shut up, especially talking in this sensual way, only for you.

“Want more?” he asked, genuine and soft—he wasn’t toying with you tonight, only serving you.

You nodded.

“Tongue or fingers?” he asked, rubbing his pointer finger over you mildly, like he just wanted to feel you.

“Tongue,” you replied, no contest, you though. You giggled to yourself at that.

“What?” He licked once at you, making you bite your lip, “what’s my angel laughing about?”

“I don’t know, I’m sleepy,” you answered, honestly, because you couldn’t put your finger on what you had giggled about.

“You can be as sleepy as you need, babe,” his words buzzed against your skin, his mouth so close, “I have you,” he gripped your hip a little as a reminder, “Want you to relax,”

“Mm,” you looked down at him, “what did I do to deserve this, huh? You’re being extra sweet,” you touched his nose softly. He smiled.

“Missed you,” he breathed, kissing your clit again, “and I always think you deserve this. Maybe I should be doing this more,” he licked over you firmly, finally, a thick and wet stripe. You ground your hips down into it as a groan fell from your lips.

“What is ‘this’ exactly?” you smiled, “you go down on me all the time.”

He chuckled, “But this,” he cleared his throat, “slow and relaxing,” he gently bit your thigh, “not rushing, not trying to tease you,” he swallowed, finding his words, “just treating you, angel.”

“Mm,” you nodded, “I like it.”

“Yeah?” he tugged at your panties, slipping them down your leg before looking back up to you, “God, your tits look good,” he shook his head, distracted, “Alright angel, just relax for me.”

The hand hooked over your hip rubbed your skin softly and melodically, a soothing touch.

He lowered his head and licked over you several more times, his tongue warm and slow.

You let yourself sigh and moan just softly, whatever noises decided they would escape you. You yawned again, not bored by any means, but relaxed.

He licked more, then, broader stripes, all the way over you. Softly, his fingers teased you, slipping easily over you, just feeling.

“So soft,” he breathed against you, “Here, baby,” he eased two fingers into you slowly, knowing you enjoyed the gentle stretch of both digits. You whined and rolled into the touch, “Yeah, angel,” he affirmed, “you like that, don’t you?”

You nodded lazily.

“Feel good?“ he mused, “my pretty girl feel full?”

His voice was so dreadfully loving and aroused at the same time, teetering on obscene.

“My fingers were made for you,” he murmured, his voice as if he was reading a poem, “maybe for the guitar, too,” he giggled, “but definitely for you,”

He curled them inside you, feeling, finding what you liked. He pumped them in and out in a languid rhythm.

“You fit so perfect around them,” he continued. He was keeping true to his promise about talking, “Always makes me want you. But I hope they feel good for you,” he pushed them all the way in and you groaned, a small gasp punctuating it, “Do they feel good for you, angel?”

You nodded, tired but now incredibly invested in this.

“You don’t have to say anything, babe,” he assured, kissing your clit, “Like I said, I’ll talk, I just wanted to know.”

Your cheeks were hot with his words—how could be be so sweet and so filthy at the same time?

He licked sloppily over you as his fingers dragged inside you, his spit and your wetness coating you. His tongue moved in lazy circles, with no urgency, just consistency. You could come like this, for sure—the slow build was perfect.

He gave you a gentle sucking kiss, continuing to move his fingers, but pulled his mouth away to speak, “How about my tongue?” His eyes peeked up at you, “Feel good for you?”

You nodded feverishly, brushing your thumb at the top of his forehead lovingly, “so good,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” he smirked, licking a stripe over you, listening to you whine, “That’s good, angel, I love making you moan like that. Do it for me again, pretty girl,” he latched onto you, sucking and licking with his hot tongue. You didn’t have to try, the moans spilled from you. He groaned against you.

You noticed something, then, as your eyes fluttered back down—

“Are you grinding into the bed?” You murmured, an amused smirk on your face.

He pulled his mouth from you and grinned, nodding, “Yeah,” he breathed, unashamed, “I’m having fun.”

You groaned at that, rubbing your hand over your face.

“That okay with you?” he smiled, giggling.

You nodded, letting your hand fall back to your chest. “S’hot.”

He smiled, “Good,” he licked over you again, curling his fingers. You yelped, the combination perfect. “There we go,” he mused, “Right there, huh?,”

He did it again, curling both fingers as he planted his tongue firm against your clit. You whined, feeling the heat in your belly.

“Mm,” he licked his lips, “you’re soaking my fingers, you know that?” he grinned, “feels amazing.”

You panted at that, and the only reaction you could give was to push your hips down against them.

He chuckled at you, “Love you so much,” he breathed, “I’ll fuck you with my fingers, you don’t have to do that, angel,” he bit his lip, “or you just like doing that? Grinding down on my hand?”

You nodded, repeating the motion. He sighed heavily, and you could see under the duvet the small motion of him grinding against the bed again.

“What about my tongue?” He licked over you, keeping his lips near you, “wanna rock your hips against me?”

You whined as he pressed his tongue flat to you, a resounding yes going through your head at his question. You nodded, doing what he said, grinding your hips down, grabbing his head softly with your hand, rolling yourself against his wet tongue.

He moaned into it, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before coming open to lock with yours. You gasped at the feeling, at how willing he was being, how much he was getting off on this.

“You wanna come?” he breathed, breaking contact for only a second before returning his mouth to you. You whimpered and nodded, breathless, keeping the motion of your hips.

“Make yourself come, angel,” he breathed, flattening his tongue out for you, soft moans against you, his fingers helping you, rocking with a steady motion back into your grinding.

It didn’t take too much longer, especially with his eyes locked into yours, before you were there.

As conflicted as you were about losing eye contact with him, you let your back arch as the orgasm flushed you with heat, holding his head against you, feeling his drawn out moan.

As soon as it passed, he was planting small kisses to you, kitten-licking at your oversensitive center.

You composed yourself and propped back up on the pillows, looking down at him. He had the world’s most self-assured grin, and he looked sort of dazed, eyes glossy, struggling to focus.

“I don’t think there’s a thing I like more in this world than making you come,” he smiled.

“You sure?” you giggled. His fingers moved inside you still and you gasped, pushing against them.

“Yeah, they’re really fucking wet,” he groaned, acknowledging your gasp, “I love it.”

You panted, letting him work at you still.

“But yes, I’m sure,” he said, brushing hair from his face with his free hand before settling it back, arm hooked under your thigh, hand on your hip.

“More than the Les Paul?” you grinned. He nodded and hummed. Your jaw dropped.

“More than…liquor?”

He bit his lip and smiled.

“More than making yourself come?”

“Oh, yeah, easy,”

“More than music?“

He giggled, “Alright, a tie.”

You chuckled back, relaxing into the feeling of his fingers still slowly fucking you.

“How long you gonna do that for?” You murmured, wiggling your hips to help him understand your question.

“Mm,” he pondered, licking your thigh, “Wanna make you come again,”

Your breath hitched, and you watched his face.

“Might take a bit,” you smiled, “I’m kinda sleepy, remember?”

He nodded, “That’s okay,” he assured, “I’m having so much fun, angel,” he grinned.

“I can tell,” you smirked, petting his head, “How’s humping the bed going?”

He giggled, “Pretty good if I’m being honest,” He looked up at you, his expression suddenly changing, “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to get you to have sex,” he said, “With the bed thing. I really just wanted to do this for you. I’m just hard and it feels good.”

You bit your lip at his gentle expression, “You’re heaven-sent,” you sighed, “really.”

He giggled and pushed his fingers all the way in, pushing against your hip bone with his hand, making you gasp, “Just for you,” he said.

“Love how wet you are on my hand, pretty girl,” he murmured, “Can’t wait to lick my fingers,”

You whined, unable to help it at the obscene gesture.

“My girl like that?” He murmured to your thigh, “I love how you taste, angel. Makes me think about how you came for me.”

You nodded, dumbfounded at the way he was speaking to you—sincere and something borne of his arousal and love all the same.

“You’re like my pretty peach,” he murmured, “wet and soft for me. Your cheeks are pink, just like a ripe peach,” he grinned, bowing his head down to lick over you again, “peaches and cream,” he murmured, making himself giggle, “Could eat you all day, all summer.”

You exhaled with a trembling breath at his sweet and sensual ranting.

“You like me talking to you?” he asked softly, “I have a lot to say about my pretty girl.”

You nodded, sleep threatening to take you after the tea and the orgasm.

“Pretty girl,” he purred, “so sleepy, just relax,” his fingers worked slowly, “Get all sleepy and let me make you come one more time,” he licked at you with some amount of determination, a warm flutter against your swollen clit, “You don’t have to do anything,” he breathed in between licks, “Just relax against me, I’ll make you come, angel, trust me,”

You could hear him but it was distant—you weren’t asleep, there’s no way you could be with this going on, but it tempted you, a soft cloud hanging above you that you let kiss your skin. There was a warm glow in your abdomen that Jake had summoned, and you let him coax it, stoke the fire.

His tongue dipped lower, meeting his fingers at your entrance. You whined softly, the feeling wet and lewd.

“I knew you’d taste good,” he murmured, likely to himself at this point, “God, I wanna see you come again,”

His fingers worked steadily, not too rough, but certainly with a rhythm that could send you over the edge.

“Okay, angel,” he breathed, “When you’re ready, let me have it, be sweet for me,” he lowered his mouth against you again and let his tongue create a sweet pace, tempting the heat in you to spill over.

You took deep breaths, doing just as he said and letting yourself relax—letting his fingers work in you, his tongue over you, his hand grip your hip tight to keep you in place.

You came gently, shockingly soon for a second orgasm, riding the perfect wave against his tongue. You sighed his name quietly, in a strangled gasp. He moaned into you at the sound.

Slowly, you came down, head spinning and more heavy with sleep than before.

You watched him with hooded eyes prop himself up just slightly, keeping his mouth on you, soft licks, and then pull his fingers out out of you, pushing that hand down under the covers, around himself, and with only a few jerks of his arm, he was moaning again in to you, sucking you softly, trying to take his own pleasure without overstimulating you.

“God,” you groaned at the sight, the sweat on his forehead, his selfless but fervent need.

He looked up at you, soft groans still coming from him as he pulled his mouth from you, coming down, “You like that, angel?” he grinned, “You turn me on so fucking much,” he huffed a breath out, “and I didn’t even need spit, you drenched my fucking hand.”

You whimpered, sleepy but amazed at what he was saying.

He hummed to himself, pleased, planing a final kiss to the inside of your thigh.

“Let me clean us up, babe,” he laughed as he got up.

“I came in my fucking pants,” he shook his head and smiled in amusement, going to find a towel.

As he returned, you were fighting the persistent wave of sleep chasing you.

“Give it up, babe,” he grinned, wiping you off, “Go to sleep, angel. I’m just going to clean off and I’ll be right next to you.”

You nodded, murmuring the word, “kiss.”

He nodded and bent down, kissing you slow, his hand gentle on your face. He smiled softly as you started to succumb to your heavy eyelids.

You remember the weight of him sinking into the bed next to you, his chest pressing to your back as he held you, ready to drift off along side you.

“I love you,” he murmured into your ear, “love making you happy, angel. I hope you sleep well.”

You smiled, giving him a gentle hum and a slurred an i love you back, but he already knows. He always knows.

fin.

#gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #greta van smut #jake gvf #gvf smut #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fan fiction #gvf fics

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hwaightme · 1 year

Text

Wilting to bloom

🍃 pairing: soldier!san x reader (told in first person) 🍃 genre: angst, a smidgen of fluff, warrior/royalty, battle 🍃 summary: we were meant to remain in the meadows, living under the sun and blessed by joyous unity. no eyes were made to witness what you had seen, san. these letters and dreams are a recollection of all that is to never be, and all that we have to bear. 🍃 wordcount: 5.0k 🍃 warnings/tags: nightmares, discussion of trauma, side character death, waiting for san to come back, cottagecore, military, ptsd/trauma, paralysis, told through the eyes of mc ('you' is an address to san), a dog, hoping for a better life, nothing will be the same. let me know if anything else. 🍃 taglist: @doom-fics @layzfeelit @acciocriativity @izuijin @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 🍃 a/n: a chaotic experiment, bear with me; much love <3

Wearing the purest white, chasing the freedom of being young. Hot summer rays kissing bare skin, the wind cheering us on until we collapse on the ground with breathless, airy laughter. Hiding among the lilac, lavender, and black locust. Those carefree days. Nobody thought that this could ever change. Our life was that of a mayfly’s, existing entirely in the present – the reason for our happiness. We lived in blissful stagnancy, with our guardian angels watching over us, hand in hand, from the heavens above. We were free in the groves, free to do whatever we wanted.

The clover and chamomile crowns we would make for one another – yours were always much better than mine. Sorry I could never give you something you truly deserved. But you smiled anyways and took my collection of withering leaves and put it on your head with pride, dirtying the perfect locks that turned to rich chestnut and mahogany hues in the sun. Pollen would stick to your tousled strands, and yet, you would wave off my hands, saying that this was a blessing of nature. I did not argue. You managed to make the floral grains take on the appearance of magical fairy dust, or glistening gold. We went out during daybreak into the meadows to pick the marvellous beauties – second compared to you, but nevertheless wonderful.

You brought me flowers – whichever were in season. By the bouquet on my windowsill, I could tell what time of the year it was. You were my messenger, my sun and moon. You knew how to make me blush and how to tease me painlessly, peppering kisses in a playful apology after a joke that would make me tear up from laughter. You learnt how to braid hair, just so you could tame my unruly curls on the days when the air hung low and stuck to the skin. A simple braid had turned into gorgeous designs, ones which I had never seen on any other lady, even on those aristocratic dames that had taken to visiting our lovely part of the kingdom.

Whenever I went out into the world, the market mainly, with your gentle touch having moulded me into what you called a goddess, it was a reminder that you were unparalleled – the girls would give me long side glances, obviously trying to spot a mistake, cursing me over and over. Little did they know, you, and everything you do, defined faultlessness. You have marvellous hands – not too delicate, not too rough. Just right. Those hands still linger on my skin in the echoes of caresses, yet another reminder of your irreplaceable presence. A man’s marvellous hands, your hands, which I could rely on holding me up to greatness. I wonder how they are now and if you are managing out there. Those hands were never meant for bloodshed and violence.

‘A musician’s fingers’ – that is how they are called; I found out recently. It is a shame that I could never put it into words for you then, so you just laughed whenever you caught me admiring them. You brushed me off, saying ‘they are just hands’ and continued doing what you were doing. Sometimes, your fingers would intertwine with mine and we would amble in the verdant grass together and collect gifts of the earth. Walking at the same pace, side by side. We were one another’s world. At least, you were definitely mine. You still are. The moment I wake up, right up until I fall back into a restless slumber, you greet me in my memories, with that gorgeous smile of yours. Do you still gleam like that, my love?

I have a particular scene ingrained in my mind, moment for moment. How we sat together watching the sunset, tired but still elated after ambling across the endless expanse of fields for far too long. How you glanced over at me and grinned wide. I was stunned then. What had I done to deserve to have such an angel beside me? Your features – a divine perfection, accompanied by wit and charms unlike anybody else’s. If only I could eternally live in that evening when we whispered sweet nothings to one another with our berry-stained lips, embraced by the corals, pinks and dusty ultramarines of the sky. The present would not be so terrifying if I had the ability to go back with you, to that small fragment of heaven.

How are you out there? My apologies for getting so sentimental – it seems that I cannot control myself when it comes to this… I miss you terribly. If only you could come home this instant. We could check on the honeysuckle in your mother’s garden – she gave me some to plant in mine! Just you wait, we will have the best garden in the village! Come home soon, I will have your favourite dinner ready, and we can chat about anything except the world out there, and laugh, and love.

Get back safe, San.

You came to me in my dream last night. It was so real that I could almost feel the breeze and taste the pungent odour of ripe fruit coming from the orchard. It was the middle of the night, and I was resting, embraced by rolling waves of linen. You had knocked on my window. Gave me quite a fright, you know!? The moon that enveloped your form and climbed into my room with its ashen rays had made your complexion pallid, washed out, ghostly, rendering me terrified and unknowing of who had awoken me from my slumber. A part of me had expected it to be father – you know how he is - a skilled carpenter, loves to work into the night, cutting and shaving away.

With one pull of the curtains, the white light had turned into a halo, and your skin had been covered by a silvery sheen. You beckoned me, and despite my initial hesitations I went with my calling, and in my nightgown, carefully opened the window and slid out. My family home only has one floor, however you were protective of my and were prepared to catch me as if I was about to perform a death-defying stunt, jumping from a cloud straight into your arms.

Not too far from the truth. That was what falling for you felt like. Though the best, unforgettable element was that you were there for me, reciprocating what had been building in my heart for so long. I only realised it when the beating got so loud and strong that it was about to burst. You told me you had loved me from the very beginning and had already sacrificed yourself to being by my side regardless of whether I returned your adoration or not. You were not afraid of any legends of unrequited love – nothing would turn your ribcage into a garden of flowers, for you had told yourself to live on, if not for yourself, then for me. Are you still living for me? Are you still out there, blood coursing through your veins reciting the vows we had made to one another under the moon?

A memory turned mantra had come forth to me in that dream. Of that night. How we were sat on our favourite hillside, overlooking the meandering river turned moon path, the world holding its breath for us. We promised to one another to be there until time itself would give the universe up to us. A destiny unbreakable by reality. We had tied all our strings of fate together, with you braiding them into an unbreakable union. Or so we thought. For the time being, you are not here. We cannot repeat that moment like we had done every anniversary. I had spent the third one without you sleepless – a wolf soundlessly howling at the glowing orb in the sky with a pitiful expression on my face. You would most certainly have poked me in the cheek and told me off for being so down.

Is the moon the same where you are? Did you think of me? Did you rest underneath the blanket of spectacular constellations, drawing lines between stars, your inhale and exhale being the only thing audible for miles? The nights are getting cooler now, I hope you wrapped up warmer. You had that one trench coat, remember? The hand-me-down from one of your friends who… oh, never mind that. It is not relevant. Didn’t you take it with you? Yes, yes you did! I can see your silhouette drifting away into the distance, becoming a dot in the horizon. You had that trench coat on. It suits you so well. Better not go around stealing the hearts of naïve young ladies wherever you are.

I wonder if you are stationed in a town like the one to which we used to go to for school. Or maybe... you are in a city! A giant city with sky-high walls and a dizzyingly colossal castle, with bustling taverns and busy squares, luxuries spilling over from baskets and intricately woven into the locals’ drapes and… just the musings take my breath away. Last month I went to a city like that. No, even better. I went to the capital of our country – it was even better than in the pictures and textbooks. I was pleasantly overwhelmed by all of the activity and people rushing back and forth. In our village, you know almost exactly where a person is going by their facial expressions, by how they are dressed and how they are walking. Be it the market, the cemetery, the orchards, somewhere further out. We used to sit on a bench next to the main road and make our, nearly always correct, guesses about a fellow villager’s path. In the city, in the security of its grand gates, that was virtually impossible, and yet in the thousands passing me by, I had somehow managed to imagine I spotted your face.

There had been no silence in the night either. Always, there seemed to be something going on, and lights were never put out. Never was there a total somnolence, unlike in our quaint home. I bet that when one falls asleep, another wakes up – a cycle of the day and night. Would our moonlit walks have the same feel if we had been in the city? Probably not. Reality would constantly interfere and mute our true sentiments. I hope you are in a place where you are free to think; it seems to me that that is exactly what those who I shall not dare mention are trying to control lately. The posters clinging to stone walls have become wallpaper, dirtied by the sediment left from horse-drawn carts going to and fro. The announcements and misleadingly fun, inspiring songs boasting glory and promising a brighter future, tailored by fiendish composers to convince impressionable citizens that aggression is the answer. The horror of manipulation did not seduce you – you had cupped my face and whispered your hatred for the game where you and I were crafted to be pawns. But, somehow, the claws of the devilish puppeteer, searching for a fresh sacrifice, had made it into our paradise, ruining the safe haven and ripping you away to a foreign land.

I cannot begin to imagine where your feet are taking you at this very moment. Whether you are in a cheery stride singing at the top of your voice or burying yelps of fear and pain while staying crouched in the dirt. You would probably explain to me that it is better that I cannot see the present you. Before you left, you had told me that once you appear in the horizon once more, liberated from your unwanted service, we will be able to live with even grander joy, grateful for the time that we would still have together. All smiles, you promised to return with your arms wide, ready to embrace me. We could return to the same patterns, the same legend of our love.

Are you keeping your word? Does the promise stand?

Frankly, it does not matter, as long as you come home safe and sound.

San, my love, please return soon, so our hearts can beat in unison once more.

For the nation, for the glory, for the power.

You never understood why you had to leave. The slogans were obviously manipulated, the encouragements were laughably weak, and yet you left. You had seen through the façade immediately and yet, with pursed lips and tears in your eyes that you were never going to allow to fall, you marched away, so far away from home, from love, from life. We all wanted peace. However, unfortunately, those who had the power to decide thirsted for a good share of the riches that came with a catastrophe. The country, not the people, are struggling – that is what the flyers say. Fight for the greater good. For the big message. From crusades to conquests to battles to wars, there was always, supposedly a greater good. The country: a united front, a body that was the only one allowed to forget the names of those who make it, providing the individuals in control with beautiful ignorance, and the ones beneath them, sacred anonymity. You were called to work and fight for the country, not knowing what the country was. It is said that the country needs your help, but it is the people who have to fall in the end. The same people who fell into delusions that they would be saved by their glorious rulers, by their nation... Crumble like fortification, or rattle on forwards like heavy artillery.

No way back. You are an automaton. Keep your head down. Left right, left right, left right… A blank stare trained on the muddy path. There is no choice but to continue walking forwards. Those who fall do not get up again. Once you are taken to serve, you lose all sense of self. You forget about who you have been before this moment. Before the higher ups began to shout you down for breathing too loud, for having a foot a millimetre out of place, for blinking at the wrong time… You lose your feeling of being human, praying to become a machine. There is no place for humans out there.

You cannot recall what you have done after charging, spurring yourself on with an earsplitting scream. Your mind draws a blank. It is blocking you from returning to what you have seen and heard. But sometimes, on nights when you are restless and cannot fall asleep, lying on the side and staring at light coming into the room through the line between the curtains, your thoughts begin spiralling out of control. All the shards are recollected at once. You can smell the fear of your comrades, the despair and the lack of willingness to accept that it is all over.

You are holding your friend in your arms, practically lying down beside him in an attempt to avoid the barrage above you. You have known him since childhood. From the age of five years old you have supported one another and have shared one another’s joys and sorrows. You have watched one another grow up, learn, and fall in love… A part of your soul is being torn away from you. He is bleeding out too fast. Shrapnel is stuck in his body and bullet wounds pierced it right through. There is nothing you can do, and yet you keep on uttering that ‘it will be fine, you can survive, you will survive, do not go’. There is horrifying acceptance in his eyes. A gentle, holy smile. The only serenity on the battlefield. You find the actions of the rest of the soldiers around you to be sordid. They are not stopping, those fools. They are running to their own deaths. Your friend is rapidly departing. He gestures for you to lean closer. With tears making rivers down your cheeks, stained with dirt, you obey. Stifling a cry of mourning you hold him in an embrace. He whispers ‘it has been a good life’ into your ear, weakly. There is almost no spirit left in him. You could sense Death lying in wait – standing outside of the action, observing and calculating the work cut out for it: here goes another one, and another… How many guided tours would it have to make to the place of Judgement?

After coughing up the mucus that has blocked up his throat, your friend says: ‘I love you, brother. Thank you for being by my side… until the very end. Tell my wife and daughter that I love them. Yes… it has really been a good life.’ With one final push he grips your hand and squeezes it. The last handshake you will ever share with him. He shuts his eyes and lets out his final breath. His everythings will never see him again, only his name on a letter marking his end. They will never get to have a family breakfast beneath the birch in their garden. ‘Papa’ is gone. ‘Darling’ is gone. ‘Brother’ is gone. The least you can do is clean his fatal wounds and cover his body in tarpaulin to provide the bare minimum protection from the elements. Honour him by letting him go in the right way. He must have a name. Even after his death. The least you can do is to find a place which his ‘everything’, the two women in the photograph he carried in his pocket, could visit.

You scream. You cannot stop yourself. Grief overtakes you and you look up to the gloomy grey sky. Permanently overcast, looming. It is about to rain. You could smell it over the stench of raw and rotting wounds and destroyed earth. The Heavens are preparing to cry for the loss of so many innocent lives. So many guardian angels looking down on the regular civilians thrown into a war that was not meant for them. It is the people who fall, not the country.

The scream permeates dreams and reality. You jolt yourself back. Covered in cold sweat you find yourself shivering. Hair clinging onto the back of your neck and your forehead, you are lost. But it was… so real? Where did it go? You can still hear the gunfire, the sabres cutting flesh and bone, the yells. The sound of utter demise all around you. Your hands fly up to cover your ears. There is no way one can bear this. The noise spreads through you. Your heart is beating to the rhythm of the brutal march you were trained to follow.

You are home, but your inner turmoil cannot let you fully acknowledge it. Stuck in a limbo between past and present, you are trapped. The gunfire fades back into the rustling of the orchards, and the sirens dissolve into the hooting of an owl. You sit in silence, your breathing agonal. Vision swimming, it is impossible to focus. Drifting in and out of consciousness. After staggering from your bed to the windowsill you lean on it with both arms, which now bear a multitude of scars – majority of which you do not remember getting. The curtain obediently slides away revealing the night scene.

The rolling hills that go down to the river; the groves and meadows lining them at the tops. The forest in the distance. The moon. The wondrous, miraculous full moon. Untainted by the sorrows of the world it has to orbit. Forever young and beautiful. It has watched over you. Seen you at your worst and is praying for you to be able to return to your best.

The grass seems to shine in the silvery blue light. Dew has already built up, readying itself for flight in the dawn. Last echoes of grenades disappear, replaced by crickets that are giving a concert in the fields. It has been a pleasantly warm September, surprising the majority of the villagers. They rejoiced and happily spent their days working and then relaxing on one another’s porches.

Now new colours are taking over. Once the sun rises, the yellows are going to stand out against the greens, multiplying and spreading, until they will give way to oranges, reds, and browns. Birds shall migrate to a warmer place. You ponder as to where. What place could be better than this?

It was almost two hours until all symptoms and aftereffects of the attack have faded away. The tremor in your hands halted until another time, and the shallow breathing has finally levelled out and you could fill your lungs. You open the window to allow the fresh, cool night air in. Drifting into the room along with it is relief. You are thankful for the tiredness that washes over you. A welcome fatigue greets you and guides you back to bed.

Snuggling into the white sheets you curl into a foetal position and inhale the night air. It lulls you and comforts you. For now, all that haunts you is forgotten, and you are back to how you were. You are back to racing through the lilac, the lavender… Back to lugging heavy baskets full of fruit. Back when you knew of nothing that could harm you. In less than a second, you enter the land of dreams.

To this day we do not talk about what had happened. I do not want for you to suffer, nor do I want your present to be tainted with such darkness. We are now focused on what we love, and live to seize the best moments. Perhaps if I were to give my reasons for not mentioning anything, or asking you after what you had done, you would say I pity you and see you as a weakling, but that is not the case at all. I see you as the strongest person alive. You have survived through terror. You have faced phobia and apocalypse and did not cower in its presence. You have come back.

It was on a bright August morning that you have returned. The sun was shining, the nature was gleaming and a sense of victory was still hovering in the air. I had just finished preparing myself for a day of work at the farms and helping out with some resource gathering, when I see a limping figure in the distance. My heart was leaping. I did not want to bring my hopes up, but something was telling me that it was you. Perhaps it was the way your shoulders were outlined against the sky. The way you walked on without the need to check where you were going. You avoided the bump, the dips in the road without a single glance at them. It was you, my love.

I stepped outside and carefully chose my steps. Since our house was fairly close to the outskirts, I did not have to pass through the main roads to greet the mysterious, yet so familiar a figure. I slipped through the gap in the fence that has been there for as long as I can remember and quickened my pace. I strode past the field and followed the meandering path between the shacks and houses. Perhaps my wait was over, I thought. When I stopped at the road, I was sure. It could not be anybody else. But I was still tentative to rush ahead, letting me be carried by my intuition.

My legs moved on their own accord, leading me to you. We took our time. Our eyes were fixed on one another. I could not read your expression. Deep in contemplation and solemn, you trudged on, and we reunited on the golden, gravelly road to the village where we grew up. You were in uniform – had gone up in the ranks, look at you! You took off your hat, and your shabby rucksack fell to the ground, bringing up a cloud of dust with it. You leaned down to place the hat down on it, and then straightened yourself. Your eyes travelled up and down my body, as if you were trying to memorise me. I still could not begin to comprehend what you were feeling. I did not say anything. Were you disappointed? Did you expect to see somebody else?

My doubts dissolved as soon as your powerful arms wrapped around my waist, and you pulled me close. You held me in a tight embrace, whilst my hands snaked around you, recalling just how much I missed you. It was you. It was definitely you. We stood there for an eternity. We were as still as statues, even when a distant shout of ‘he returned’ had travelled to us. There was bound to be a commotion, a celebration. The biggest one after the news that the war was over. But we did not move. You did not look up. You hugged me tighter and let yourself melt into my caresses. Whispering my name, over, and over again, you were misty eyed as you removed your head from the crook of my neck and gazed at me. Tenderly, I guided you into a soothing kiss, reminding you that it was all over. You were here. You were home.

A month later, we said our real vows. We got married in the tiny church that was central to the village square. It was meant to be. The sun blessed us, shining down and giving us a shimmering peck on the tops of our heads. After the celebration, at dusk, we escaped to the hillside and gazed at the stars, drawing those same constellations with our fingers. We had been craving these quiet moments together. Now we always dedicate sometime to ourselves, in unity. Sometimes, we sit on the porch or at the table in the garden, drinking freshly made juice or tea. We do not have to talk. We just exist together. We understand what the other wants to say without it being voiced. Nodding and a knowing smile is plenty.

I will always be there. I hold your hand through your dark times and pray for it all to get better. Whatever it is. Perhaps there is no diagnosis – there are no physical symptoms for what you are feeling, and yet, you experience unbearable agony. I do not know where it comes from, so I can only assume it is in the mind. If only emotion and memory was built up of bricks or was a jigsaw puzzle. Then I would remove the pieces that hurt you so and you could go back to being a young boy with a dream.

You have matured in a way that nobody should. Far too early you have seen the evil of society and had to grow up into a stoic man. Now that you could, technically, return to how you were, the demons have stuck to you, and haunt you wherever you go, attacking you when you least expect it. Once, it happened at the farmer’s market. A loud bang from somebody dropping pots and pans resulting in us hiding in an alleyway where you collapsed with your back to a wall and curled into a ball. I dropped to my knees beside you, and counted out loud, diverting your attention, calling you back. It was always a challenge. There was nobody we knew who could give us a helping hand; we had to combat the invisible on our own.

So here we are two years later. Getting by. Living in small steps. That is enough. We try to stick to routines and use that as a comfort. A year ago, by coincidence on the anniversary that you have returned from the land beyond, we have stumbled upon a spectacular companion – an adorable mutt with wagging tail. He senses your pain and knows when to alert you. He knows you trusted him, and gave him the name ‘Haneul’. Suits him nicely.

He was the runt of the litter, and the owner thought to ‘let him go’, as they had put it. Your heart had ached for him and soon enough, the tiny puppy was wriggling in your hands, snuggling into your warmth. You fed him and cared for him night and day. The new responsibility swept you away and let your mind rest for a record amount of time.

Now, Haneul is always by your side, even when I cannot be with you. He follows you around with unbeatable persistence, protecting you. He allowed you to try and step out into society on your own, with success. Of course, it would not be life if there were no setbacks, but even when you could not leave the house, Haneul is right there, with you. He rests his upper body on your chest, right above your heart, and looks up at you with concern and adoration.

We are a happy family: you, Haneul and I. At least, we are managing with the happiness that we are provided. Long gone are the days when we would dance with the breeze, and bathe in the sunshine; white shirts fluttering like butterfly wings. It will not come back, and for the better. We would not give that time the love it deserves – our souls and will has dried out, and the time of our youth is distant. What is left is to sit in the garden, with Haneul at our feet, holding hands and recalling the time when we had made flower crowns – king and queen of a pretend world, accessible only through a child’s imagination. Too soon we have lost it. Too soon. Without a chance to say goodbye. We are two shells, together out of habit, waiting out the days and seasons. Living in perpetual motion until we live our peaceful last.

Once, in half slumber, you told me about your friend. Yes, the one who said that he has lived a good life. All I can pray for is that when the time comes, we would be able to say the same.

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beatrice-reden-official · 7 months

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Pin Post

Credit

Separate Blogs

The Main Characters System Member List!

Finally coming around to this! We are VERY fictive heavy so be respectful of that!

If you feel uncomfortable with any member we will have tags for each one so you can block it!

We all go by Cupid, if you are not sure who is fronting!! And also we all use She/Her, but we are fine with They/Them Too

Ask who's fronting

Beatrice Luna Reden (I Love Amy)

Camila Angelica Connors (I Love Amy)

Amy Lee Park (I Love Amy)

Peter Dale (I Love Amy)

Alice Reden (I Love Amy)

Sally Reden (I Love Amy)

Julia (Unnie) Lee Park (I Love Amy)

Monika (Doki Doki Literature Club)

Sayaka Maizono (Danganronpa)

Mondo Owada (Danganronpa)

Junko Enoshima (Danganronpa)

Genocider Syo (Danganronpa)

Ultimate Imposter/Twogami (Danganronpa)

Teruteru Hanamura (Danganronpa)

Ult. Hope Mahiru Koizumi (Danganronpa Au)

Gundham Tanaka goes by "Gloria" (Danganronpa)

Nagito Komaeda goes by "Clover" (Danganronpa)

Chiaki Nanami goes by "Garmegirl" (Danganronpa)

Kazuichi Souda (Danganronpa)

Sonia Nevermind (Danganronpa)

Kaede Akamatsu goes by "Melody" (Danganronpa)

Kirumi Tojo (Danganronpa)

Tenko Chabashira (Danganronpa)

Kokichi Ouma (Danganronpa)

Noelle Holiday (Deltatune- Snowgrave Route)

Chara (Undertale)

Tori (Eddsworld- Ellsworld)

Noriaki Kakyoin (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Josuke Higashikata (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Bruno Bucciarati goes by "Bruna" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Foo Fighters (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Diego Brando goes by "Didi" or "Dio"(JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Josuke Higashikata 8 (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Charlie Morningstar (Hazbin Hotel)

Angel Dust goes by "Angelica" (Hazbin Hotel)

Lute (Hazbin Hotel)

Lilith (Hazbin Hotel)

Courtney (Total Drama)

Scott (Total Drama)

Ella (Total Drama)

Lauren goes by "Scary" (Total Drama)

Julia (Total Drama)

Wally Darling (Welcome Home)

Spinel goes by "Sparkles" (Steven Universe)

Marceline (Adventure Time)

Betty Grof (Adventure Time)

The Star (Fionna and Cake)

Magic Marceline (Adventure Time Au)

Sonic goes by "Speed" (Sonic The Hedgehog)

Katsuki Bakugo (My Hero Academia)

Saitama (One Punch Man)

Pandemonica (Helltaker)

Modeus (Helltaker-Not Including Examtaker)

Azazel (Helltaker)

The Loremaster (Helltaker)

Justice (Helltaker- Not Including Examtaker)

Lucifer (Helltaker)

Serendipity (Helltaker- Non Canon)

Pomni (The Amazing Digital Circus)

Ragatha (The Amazing Digital Circus)

ENA (ENA)

C!Wilbur Soot (DSMP)

Dave Strider (Homestuck)

Jade Harley (Homestuck)

Jane Crocker (Homestuck)

Dirk Strider goes by "Dash" (Homestuck)

Jasprosesprite^2 Lalonde (Homestuck)

Mom Lalonde/Beta Roxy Lalonde (Homestuck)

Bro Strider/Beta Dirk Strider (Homestuck)

Aradia Megido (Homestuck)

Kanaya Maryam (Homestuck)

Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

Gamzee Makara (Homestuck)

Eridan Ampora (Homestuck)

Feferi Peixes (Homestuck)

Damara Megido (Homestuck)

Kankri Vantas (Homestuck)

Meulin Leijon (Homestuck)

Porrim Maryam (Homestuck)

Latula Pyrope (Homestuck)

Aranea Serket (Homestuck)

Meenah Peixes (Homestuck)

Her Imperious Condescention (Homestuck)

Callie Ohpeee (Homestuck- Troll Au)

Rose Strider (Homestuck- Swap)

Jade Strider (Homestuck- Swap)

Roxy Crocker (Homestuck- Swap)

Feferi Maryam (Homestuck- Swap)

Nepeta Captor (Homestuck- Swap)

Bea Redwood (Homestuck- Non Canon)

Bella Redwood (Homestuck- Non Canon)

Graape Souhda (Homestuck- Non Canon)

Fizzee Souhda (Homestuck- Non Canon)

M1-KU (The Power Of Fanart I Guess)

Makima (Chainsaw Man)

Komi Shoko (Komi Can't Communicate)

Ramona Flowers (Scott Pilgrim Takes Off)

GLaDOS (Portal)

Chell (Portal)

Angel Gabby (Angel Hare)

N (Murder Drones)

Mach (Regretevator)

Darling

Maily

Ragdoll

Thorns

Nobody

Goldie

Car Crash

Gunpowder

Bibi Autoresponder

@g-man-half-life @carnival-of-carnage @beart3a @ghostlyplacetobe @angel-beloved @the-arcade-doctor @unidentifiable-body

#yuri-system

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messenger-of-stupidity · 8 months

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5+1 Headcanons

Thank you @pinksparkl for the tag!

I'll be honest I had no idea what was going to come out of my metaphorical mouth with these.

Rules: share 5 Redactedverse headcanons you hold and 1 you're still working on.

Tagging: @clover-46 @wib-was-here @epsi-l0n @annahhopee @itsyourstarboy @itsrubesshawty

(I'm sorry if you've already been tagged/done this!!)

1, Smartass gave Aaron a picture of their shoe as a joke but to spite them, he now has it framed on his desk. No one understands it but those two. Smartass is planning something in revenge. (They regularly do small spiteful and non-toxic little things to each other.)

2, I've already said this, but Cam has an identity crisis every now and then due to all the memories that don't belong to him in his head. it's part of the reason his mantra includes him saying "I am Camelopardalis." 3, Lasko is having an ongoing debate with himself whether to change his lock screen picture to his listener or keep it as the DAMN squad. No one has told him he can have one as his lock screen and one as his home screen. 4, Morgan's listener is trying to get Morgan to play a TTRPG with them since neither can see each other's future so they can't possibly know how the game is going to go. 5, David is going to get Angel a birthday present that's his hoodie, even with his name on it, so they can stop stealing his. (Spoiler alert: it's not gonna work.) +1. Something about Huxley and landscaping upon graduation. idk.

#tag chain game #redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted hc #redacted headcanons #redacted david #redacted angel #redacted morgan #redacted morgan's listener #redacted lasko #redacted camelopardalis #redacted cam #redacted aaron #redacted smartass

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marchsekaimadness · 2 months

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Welcome to March SEKAI Madness!!

This is a tournament bracket with a bunch of songs selected by our (the creator and I’s) small friendgroup!! Throughout March they shall square off to become the best PJSK song of the bracket!!

(IMAGE ID BELOW)

The pairings for the first round are as follows:

1: Samsa vs. Watashi wa, Watashitachi wa (I am, We are)

2: Kashika vs. Mr. Showtime

3: NEO vs. If

4: CRaZY vs. Tenshi no Clover (Angel’s Clover)

5: Bug vs. Peaky Peaky

6: Salamander vs. Ice Drop

7: Saisei (Reborn) vs. Twilight Melody

8: Voices vs. Flyway

All propaganda for this competition can be put under the tags #march sekai madness #msekaim bracket and #msekaim propaganda

[IMAGE ID: A photo of a 16 competitor tournament bracket titled “March SEKAI Madness” in dark teal. On the left side from top to bottom are four bracket sets featuring the images for “Samsa” and “Watashi wa, watashitachi wa”, “Kashika” and “Mr. Showtime”, “NEO” and “If”, and finally “CRaZY” and “Tenshi no Clover”. The brackets between the left and right side remain unfilled. On the right side from top to bottom are four more bracket sets featuring the song cover images for “Bug” and “Peaky Peaky”, “Salamander” and “Ice Drop”, “Saisei” and “Twilight Melody”, and finally “Flyway” and “Voices”. End ID.]

#march sekai madness #march sekai madness bracket #sekai madness bracket #msekaim bracket #pjsk #prosekai #prjsk #prsk #prjsekai #project sekai #hatsune miku colorful stage #tumblr poll #music #music poll #tumblr bracket #bracket tournament #pjsk bracket #song bracket #pjsekai

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collabwithmyself · 9 months

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ive been following you for a while and i was wondering what are your oc stories about? cause theres like alot of them and i want to know about them lol

The Star-Crossed Threshold refers to a series of stories taking place in the fictional town of Threshold, Northern California, in a universe that's almost like our own, but not quite. The Artisan of this little realm has shattered due to grief over its doomed creations, but perhaps the power it's imbued a handful with can offer a happy ending to those that need it most.

The main stories of this town are as follows:

Devil's Advocate, following a starry-eyed amnesiac, an exhausted ex-servant, and their neurotic lawyer that they need to rescue from his self-appointed guardian angel.

⚖️ Seth Wingstrom (he/him)

💫 "Verity" (star/stars)

🍀 Friday Adett (she/her)

💠 Raphael Wingstrom (he/him)

🧪 Clover Fielding (he/him)

🔍 Paetra Ironmonger (she/her)

❣️ Kirstynne Vainglory (she/her)

♊ Pandora Spinelli (she/her)

Work in Progress, following three reunited childhood friends embittered and traumatized by real life and the internet alike, as they struggle to escape a world of fantasy headed by a cartoon that's more than it seems.

🔆 Seraphina Bright (she/her)

👻 Vendetta ver Captionem (they/them)

🗡️ Joshua O'Reilly (he/him)

🔏 Cadell Lockhart (he/she/they)

Giving Up the Ghost, following an absolute train wreck of a family and its past secrets clawing out of the grave, and the importance of revealing those secrets in order to finally put them to rest and begin to heal.

🌱 Akiko Sasaki (they/them)

💌 Hitoshi Hidaka (he/him)

❄️ Aoi Sasaki (she/her)

🍎 Jackson McIntosh (she/her)

🎨 Emi Uchiyama (she/her)

👁‍🗨 Ayaka Uchiyama (she/they)

♠️ Ko Uchiyama (he/it)

Check the tags for more on each!

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writeyouin · 3 months

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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - Learning To Get Along

A/N – So, a user on A03 suggested the snake servants’ new names. It was a stroke of genius on their behalf, and I can only thank them for it.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

GN VERSION HERE

Tag-List: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @sseleniaa @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08 @astrxwitch @yu-87 @clover-1767 @lil-bexie @thesimpybitch

Do you think you can manage that? Lucifer’s words hung in the air, creating an icy barrier between you.

So, Lucifer thought himself too good for low-life Sinners such as yourself. That wasn’t fair. Sinners might be in Hell for a reason, but sometimes such reasons were just fucking stupid. Heaven ought to base their entry requirements on a person’s character or strength of heart, not just their actions. You had met plenty of Sinners who were in Hell because of the most trivial shit.

There were those who liked to sleep around, but if sex positivity was a problem, then how did Heaven explain Angels like Adam, whom Charlie had told you about in excruciating detail. Lust shouldn’t have ever been considered a Sin, as long as all participants in any such carnal act were above age and consenting.

Then, there were a few murderers you knew. Granted, murder made the lines blurry, but some Sinners killed in self-defence, or only targeted others such as themselves, protecting the innocent in a very gruesome Dexter-like fashion. Were they really to be condemned? And who the fuck gave a damn about Sloth. So, some people were just bone idle, who gave a shit? Heaven apparently.

And now, the ruler of Hell was condemning those around him as well. He was supposed to care for his people, good or bad. Not to mention those who were solely created for or born in Hell, such as Imps, Hell-Hounds, or the Deadly Sins themselves; they hadn’t committed any crimes to get sent here originally – it was their home.

Your eyebrows furrowed, creating an annoyed crease along your forehead.

“No,” You told Lucifer, who stared at you incredulously.

No? Didn’t you understand the situation? He was Lucifer. King of Hell. He could destroy you with no effort spared, leaving no trace that you ever existed, and you were telling him no? He wasn’t an unreasonable guy, but how could you possibly think that being around him was a good idea? Did you respect Charlie more than you feared him? Granted, he didn’t go out much so few knew how powerful he was, but no other Sinner would dare deny him his wishes.

You saw the look he was giving you and decided to explain yourself.

“Look, I’m only here ‘cos Charlie thought it was a good idea, and if you genuinely hate me, I’ll go and you’ll never have to see me again, but you’re not even trying right now. You haven’t spoken to me. You don’t know anything about me, and frankly, I think Charlie’s right, you do need someone to talk to.”

“I don’t-” Lucifer started.

“You don’t even know why I’m down here,” You interrupted angrily, though you refrained from raising your voice. “And you don’t want to know, right? ‘Cos all of us filthy Sinners must be the same. Ooh, we squandered your gift of Free Will and now we deserve to suffer for eternity, do we? Grow up!”

Lucifer stared at you in astonishment, and you sighed, apparently not finished in your tirade, “I’m going to my room tonight, but tomorrow, I expect that you’ll at least try to tolerate me. Who knows? We might even find some common ground. We both love Charlie, don’t we?”

Lucifer didn’t know what to say to that. He certainly loved his daughter, more than anything else in the universe, but you? He still suspected that you had some kind of ulterior motive… everyone in Hell did. Yet, you had a point. He would do this for her, even if it meant he had to tolerate you.

Who were you, really?

He looked at you closely for the first time, trying to pick out some detail of who you might have been. It was even more disturbing than he previously thought. Before, he only saw a human. Now, he examined your clothes. There was little to say about the style, but your apparel was reminiscent of a Holy Animal. With the ruffled cuffs of your jacket, the way the back peaked to create the image of feathers, and the yellow ribbon that lined the white material, you looked like a dove.

Yet… Despite living in the Hazbin Hotel, Charlie had insisted that you didn’t seek redemption. Why go through the farce of dressing like an Angel then… unless? No, you couldn’t be. No Angel would dare stray from Heaven unless they were ordered to.

Lucifer held back a glower, trying to keep his emotions in check so you wouldn’t sense his thoughts. There was a possibility, though small that you had been sent by the likes of Adam to spy on Lucifer and his kin, ensuring that none of Charlie’s patrons ever found a way to the Pearly Gates.

Well, it wouldn’t take long to uncover your ruse. Lucifer had ways of telling an Angel from a Demon, and once you were asleep, he would know.

“Yeah,” Lucifer said evenly. “I love my Charlie.”

“So, you’ll try then.”

Lucifer nodded his head in consent.

“Okay, I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

The sentiment went unreturned as your King returned to his chambers, biding his time until you slept.

When you returned to your room, you got ready for bed. The day had been long and unusual. Honestly, you didn’t feel that you had a place in the manor, and you longed for your room in the Hotel, even if it was smaller, had a large stain on the carpet (which Nifty had named Vivienne) and an unruly infestation of roaches.

In the short time you had spent there, it had become home.

You would miss the arguing inhabitants, the energetic wake-up call from Charlie, the feeling of safety that Vaggie instilled, and the sound of Alastor’s morning and evening radio broadcasts. Yet, you hoped you might find something equally valuable in return if only Lucifer would open himself up to the possibility that you didn’t want anything from him.

After glancing out of your window, which had a balcony you could step out to if you so wished, you took in the whole of the Magne District which was the heart of Pentagram City. If you strained your eyes, you could just see the flashing neon of the Hazbin Hotel, and if you turned your gaze up… There was Heaven, out of reach yet always in sight, taunting most Sinners, yet emboldening a brave few who dared to wonder What If? What if they could change and gain admittance to a better life?

You sighed and dared not ponder further when you needed to get some sleep.

Throwing yourself on the plush bed, you got comfortable, arranging yourself how you liked, then leaning over to your bedside table, you blew out the cherry candle you had previously lit.

You rested your head atop the satin pillows, then frowned, feeling a lump beneath it. You reached under and pulled out a rubber duck, painted to look like a Hellhound-Duck hybrid. Assuming it was one of Charlie’s childhood toys, you placed it carefully atop the table; it would keep you company on your first night in a strange new place.

Lucifer waited till the late twilight hours before leaving his workshop. He transformed himself into a snake, slithering silently through the Hallways, ensuring that you wouldn’t hear him coming.

Before being cast out of Heaven, detecting an Angel would have been a simple task. He would just know, the way he now knew how to read a Demon. Yet, with you giving off little sign of Demonic energy, he now had to test if you were of Angelic origin. There were two ways he could do so. The first was by spilling your blood. Those who were born in or sent to Heaven had golden ichor instead of the oozing red or black goop of Hell-spawn and Sinners.

However, not wishing to alert you to his presence, Lucifer decided to opt for the other method.

Once he was inside your room and certain that you were in a deep slumber, he reverted to his original form, standing over you, his pupils turning to slits at the thought of a traitor in his house. If you were what he thought you to be, he would kill you immediately.

He pulled a small yellow twenty-sided stone from his pocket and baring his fangs in anger, he pressed it lightly against your skin.

Nothing happened.

Lucifer’s expression changed from one of deep-seated loathing to confusion. You weren’t from Heaven. If you were, the stone would have glowed a brilliant shade of Gold. Instead, it remained its original dull yellow.

Very well.

He would keep his word and… Tolerate you.

He left your room as quietly as he had entered it. Tomorrow, things would be different.

Lucifer didn’t sleep that night; the idea of change was terrifying.

The next morning, when Lucifer finally resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to face you eventually, he headed downstairs, assuming that was where you were.

“JUST TRY IT!” He heard you yell. “TRY! OPEN YOUR MOUTH, DAMN IT!”

“Uh…” Was all he could think to say as he entered the kitchen and found you clinging to one of the snake cleaners he had created the previous night, in a rodeo-like fashion. The creature was trying to buck you off, with a somewhat derpy expression, probably stupidly assuming it was a game; Lucifer hadn’t bothered to instil them with much intelligence since he didn’t need them for anything more than cleaning.

“ARGH!” You grunted as you were dislodged from its back.

“What- What is this?” Lucifer asked, confused.

“Oh shit!” You cursed, embarrassed to have been caught in a less-than-dignified position. You attempted to regain a little composure by standing up, then held up a handful of wadded-up pancake.

“Do they eat?” You demanded, referring to the reptilian cleaners, “’Cos they’ve been in a picture frame their whole lives, and they must be hungry by now.”

Of all the stupid things you could have done, Lucifer couldn’t help but crack a smile, though he had the decency to hide his laugh behind a clenched fist and pass it off as a cough.

“They don’t need to.”

“Okay, but can they?”

“If they wanted to, I suppose so.”

You glared at the mushed-up pancake, “I fucking knew it. Spick, Span, eat your fucking breakfast!”

“I’m sorry, who now?” Lucifer asked.

“Well, they clean, don’t they? Spick and Span seem to fit unless you have something better to name them.”

Lucifer chuckled, a half-short-lived chuckle, but one all the same. You were more chaotic than he expected.

“Fine, if you want them to eat, you’ve got to cook in style.”

He waved his hands energetically, his outfit transforming from his usual suit to one befitting a flashy Michelin Chef. He was comfortable in the role of an entertainer as he made a dazzling display of cooking up eggs. With the flash-bang of indoor fireworks, the island counter gained a conveyor belt to transport several dishes, all perfectly presentable and giving off a delectable aroma of herbs and spices.

Eggs-benedict, frittatas, and shakshuka shot by you, closely followed by a hungry Span, though his twin was busy writhing on the conveyer belt, trying to get to his feather duster, yet doomed to chase it since he didn’t think to travel in the opposite direction so it would meet him in the middle.

The sight was memorable to say the least, even when Spick knocked the food onto the floor and his brother was left stupidly sucking on the corner of the countertop where his seemingly new favourite dish had splattered.

You couldn’t help laughing.

“See?” You struggled to get the words out, “I knew they’d like food. I’m just a shite cook.”

Lucifer gazed at his dishes proudly, even though they were no longer fit for either of your consumption.

“Hah,” You said, feeling somewhat awkward now that the moment had passed and Lucifer’s gaze was upon you, trying to figure you out. “I’ll uh, clean this up.”

“No need, leave it to Flim and Flam,” Lucifer said nonchalantly.

“You know that’s not their names.”

“Whatever. So… we’ve met, there was breakfast with a show. We done for today?”

The smile fell from your face as you realised that all of this was just another of Lucifer’s acts. Granted, he might have actually had fun with it, but it was all just in the name of claiming he had tried to be around you, and just wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“I don’t know. I was going to go into the City if you wanted to come.”

“I can’t. I have… plans.”

Lucifer’s mood soured as he thought about visiting Heaven’s embassy to set up the meeting for Charlie. He hated everything about that building. The décor was just a cruel reminder of everything Heaven had banished him from. Moreover, while the Angels had to respect his power, they didn’t respect him; their cruel words and thinly veiled insults always cut him the deepest. Not to mention how bitter he was that the balance of power was uneven. Sure, Heaven had an embassy in Hell, but there was no such building in Heaven where Demons could work to arrange meetings between Angels and him.

It would always be Lucifer going to their building, on their terms, usually at their behest.

“Plans? So, you’re setting up Charlie’s meeting today?” You guessed astutely. “You know, I’m walking that way too.”

Lucifer guessed at your game. You probably hadn’t been going in that direction at all, but this was all in the name of ‘trying’. One way or another, he would have to learn to get along with you.

“Fine. Let’s go,” He said, flicking his hand back blasély, even though he found the idea of walking the streets of Hell daunting.

It would be better if he could teleport there, but at least, by the end of the day, you would have something positive to report back to Charlie.

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