#I have no idea how much power Husk still has...

[hazbinshusk]

Hi, how about some spicy headcanons of Husk and how he was different in sex as Overlord and currently

I don't really do headcanon posts, but here are some of the ideas I have about the differences between the two sides of husk:

as an overlord, husk was able to indulge pretty much any sexual whim he had on any given night. between the hangers-on and the dancers at the casino and the fact that he could definitely afford to spend his nights with anyone on Valentino's books that he wanted, he was rarely short of company if he so desired.

I do think that husk, even then, would get tired of casual sex - he might not (let himself) realize why, but he'd prefer seeing the same people rather than nameless faces every night. he was more likely to book time on nights that aren't going his way, and nights he's living large and winning big, then he's bringing familiar faces back to his suite.

like I said, as an overlord, husk is able to sample any kind of kink he wants. he's heavier into bdsm, and he values being the dominant. call him 'sir', 'master', 'daddy'... oh, he's going to make you feel so good.

I think he's a little more selfish in the bedroom as an overlord - because he's high on the power trip and because if he's selfish it's easier for no one involved to get attached, but I also think that husk genuinely gets off on his partners getting off, so he's still going to want to see his partner cum. if that means them jerking themselves off or playing with their clit while he fucks them, then abosolutely.

I think he was a little more careless when it came to hurting partners - he wasn't violent - but he probably didn't check in so often. it was completely normal for his partners to leave the next day with claw or bite marks or hickeys, even bruising from spanking or breathplay, and he loves seeing those marks peaking out of their clothes. Some of his newer lovers wear them like badges of honor - the latest beauty to spend the night with the gambling overlord.

honestly, he tricked himself into believing his relationships meant more to those he saw regularly than they did. there were a few that he let himself feel a real connection to, let himself open up with and he genuinely thought that they might feel that connection too.

now, husk is more reserved. when he lost his status as an overlord, he had the horrible moments where those he'd thought cared for him proved that they didn't. they fell away like the rest of his world, leaving him bitter and alone.

husk is more careful about his partners. I think he has still indulged in casual sex (at least prior to the hotel when he had slightly more freedom in alastor's absence), but he hasn't continued to explore more formal settings of bdsm since his downfall.

I think he's more reticent to hurt others, even consenually, now that he's on the other side of the overlord dynamic. he checks in more often, needs more assurance that this is what his partner wants.

he can still be rough, deliciously so, but he's warier about it now.

I honestly think too that while he had more sex as an overlord, it wasn't in any way because he was more confident in his sinner form. he's never liked how he looks in Hell, but as an overlord, he could lose himself in sex and pretend that he was desirable (he fucking is, the stubborn old tomcat).

but now, he's forced to confront how he feels about his body, in more subtle ways. when he starts sleeping with angel its more intimate than either of them has become used to, but husk's focus is always on making angel feel good and safe, so he's taken aback when he realizes that angel was genuine in his desire not just for husk, but husk's body.

and husk finds himself relearning what he likes - the different erogenous zones that he'd almost forgotten about or been to embarrassed to guide his other partners towards, and fuck does it feel good...

I will die on the soft!dom husk hill, and I can see him being willing to explore more and more kinks not just to help angel work through trauma, but also because angel tells him these kinks can be fun.

[enixamyram]

Rewatching episode two where Valentino flips at Angel so much as flirting with a random guy. And now I really need Huskerdust to be canon and for Valentino to try threatening Husk and for it to backfire for him so hard.

[eupheme]

— on the fence [into the fire, part ii]

part i | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 3.8k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, restraints, sex for favors, oral (m), exhibitionism, spanking, biting, hair pulling, light choking, sub/dom elements, PiV, irradiated creampie

a/n: hi! I had a couple ideas I wanted to explore, which turned into a mini-series. I have them all mapped out & I hope to have them up for you soon! 💖

“Why don’t you show me again,” He husks, “What you’re so good at.”

Your breath catches - eyes flicking warily towards the door, but he’s quick to call you back.

“Hey, now. Eyes over here.” The Ghoul snaps, “You need to worry ‘bout me more than anyone out there.”

(Or - the Ghoul gets you out of your Vault Suit.)

You’re not sure you like the look of this town.

It sprawls wide and low across the desert, the inhabitants gathering in the shadows to escape glare of the sun. A low buzzing murmur that carries with you through the streets.

It feels suffocating, after the open miles before.

Following the dark figure of Ghoul, as you wind through the streets. Partly because you have to - that leash still pulled tight, wrapped around a fist.

Partly because you want to stick close, always.

“-don’t need you slowing me down.” The Ghoul gives the rope a yank, and you scowl, “You get hurt doing some stupid shit, and I’m leavin’ you behind.”

Your frown softens. His words still just as harsh, snarled out. But they’re a far cry from before.

Before, when you were certain he was going to hand you right back over to your Vault, in spite of how far you’ve come. Something significant passing in the journey through the desert, as he had taken what you wanted.

The taste of him has since faded, but he still lingers.

“Gotta earn your keep, too.” His head turns, eyeing you from beneath the brim of hat, “You good at anythin’?”

Unable to help it, you smirk - a brow raising. He scoffs in response, eyes narrowing.

“Anyone can be good at suckin’ cock, sweetheart.” He drawls, unimpressed, “’m not so bad at it, myself.”

Your lips part in surprise and he’s the one that grins, now.

The Ghoul picks up another bounty here. A shady, alley-way deal - keeping you close to his heels as he snatches the faded paper contact off a tattered board.

Running into another pair looking for jobs - a fresh scar splitting across the nose of a man who tries to start a conversation, before quickly retreating.

“Fuckin’ amateurs” muttered in reply to your heavy, silent judgement.

The client is tracked down for more information, after. Wasn’t hard to find the man with cage over the lower half of his face. Spikes that scream Raider with the way they jut through his clothes.

Fifty caps for the “goddamn no-good thief” that wiped out his stall in the night, taking every last bullet and can of cram. Last seen about two days ago, heading north.

Dead or alive, the client doesn’t care.

“Did you see ‘em?” The Ghoul frowns, “What they look like? Give me somethin’ to go off of.”

“Course I did,” The man huffs, “Looks just like me, don’t he? He’s my own damn brother.”

You can’t contain your own sideways look in disbelief, only to see The Ghoul returning it.

He bargains for a hundred, and gets it.

It’s hard not to wonder if he had taken your bounty this way. If your face had been scrawled across a piece of paper. Exchanged in a no-nonsense, disconnected way.

How much had your life been worth?

You never asked him. It’s something you’re not sure you even want to know.

The rest of the afternoon is spent stocking up. Caps exchanged for some more ammo. A couple bottles of watery chems, shoved deep in his bag to join the others.

A way the ease the cough that rattles him every few days. The smallest bottle kept out, wrenched open with a tight fist.

It snags at you - the way he swallows it like ambrosia the second he steps away. Gasping and groaning as if it’s air he needs to breathe.

“I’m good at medicine,” You tell his back - following again. Memories of the Vault pushing their way to the surface, “Could make that for you, if we find the stuff. Wouldn’t have to dilute it.” You almost run into him, with the way he’s gone still. The tilt of his head, a single sharp eye piercing through you under the brim of a hat.

Shifting over your shoulder. Narrowing.

His hand fists in the collar of your jumpsuit instead, hauling you down the nearest alley and into the shadows.

“Hey!” You protest, your back knocked against the wall. He cages you in, knuckles pressing into your jaw with his tight grip.

The vial is pinched between his fingers, dangled in front of your face.

“You can make this?” He confirms.

You’re able to confirm it now, never quite getting a good look before. RadAway. It would be simple, compared to some of the stuff you’d had to cook up.

“Get me to a lab, some supplies,” You nod, “And I will.”

“Huh.” He’s close - you can’t help squirming in his grip, as he considers you, “Ain’t that something.”

A second, before his grip eases - but he doesn’t let go. Your bound fists rest against his chest, but there’s no force behind them to drive him off.

“Could’ve just asked.” You huff, “You don’t have to man-handle me.”

He almost smiles - his voice coming low, with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t I?”

It flusters you, how his body presses against yours. Your heartbeat kicking up a notch, your chest brushing his with each short breath.

His thumb sweeps, ghosting against your skin. Those sunken eyes dropping to your collar, with a frown.

Another glance down the aisle, before they’re dragging over you - voice lowering.

“Need to get you out of this suit.”

His words make stiffen in his arms, a sharp inhale of anticipation.

“Not so smart, are you?” He husks, his gaze dragging from your parted lips, up to your eyes, “Runnin’ around like this. Downright advertising you’re a Vaultie, when someone’s lookin’ for you.”

He’s not wrong. He tracked you down easily enough. You nod is small, a pang of regret as his fingers drop - as he steps away.

“Come on, then. I know a place.”

The place is an old saloon, the windows blasted out over two centuries ago. The gutted insides filled out with a patched-up bar, the mended tables and scattered chairs filled with patrons. Rooms to rent lining the first - and second floor - if you were brave enough to risk the staircase.

A few stalls set up alongside a wall - a barber ran by a Mister Handy with a looping stutter, the second by another Ghoul. Her few racks are filled with a patchwork of fabric, all in stained and faded patterns.

He gestures, a tilt of his head at the racks, “Pick something out, quick like.”

You’d gape at him, if you weren’t afraid he’d change his mind. Serious about your suit - you’re quick to grab a shirt in your size with only two holes. A pair of trousers, a rip at the knee.

“This ain’t for you.” The Ghoul clarifies darkly in your ear, “This is a trigger-happy town. Don’t need to be wasting my bullets.”

You hum in agreement - undeterred by his tone. The package clutched to your chest as he hands over a couple caps. Stuck over a full two weeks now in the same suit - you’re itching for the soft cotton against the skin.

Turning to leave, but then you’re halting. A couple of the patrons look familiar, hovering just inside the door. Something about that scar-

You’re trying to recall, in the crowd of people you’ve seen today - when a hand clamps down on your shoulder. Wheeling you around as the Ghoul turns to the shop owner.

“You got a room she can borrow?” There’s a change in his tone, almost a sticky-sweet edge to his drawl.

It must work - you’re shown to what used to be an old parlor room. An array of broken chairs, a heavy wooden table. The wallpaper torn and faded, the shades of cream long stained a dull, dirty yellow.

He fills the doorway - an arm propped against the frame, and you hold your wrists out to him dutifully.

You’ve worked at the knots before, to no avail - only to scowl now, as he undoes them easily with one hand.

A moment of silence hanging then, as you give him a pointed look - rubbing at sore wrists.

“You gonna leave so I can change?” You ask, “I’ll just be a second.”

The Ghoul steps forward instead, pulling the door shut behind him. An audible click, as he thumbs at the lock.

“Oh, I don’t think so, darlin’.”

A heat flares to life in your cheeks, “You’re staying?”

“That’s right,” He sinks into an old loveseat, propped up on concrete blocks near the boarded-up window, “Can’t leave you alone in a place like this. Fuckin’ vultures would swoop right in.”

You hesitate, watching him warily as an arm slings across the back, legs stretched out against the floor. If you didn’t know better then you think it was something almost akin to concern in his tone.

Or then again - he might just want to keep your bounty to himself. You had hoped you were past that, but-

“What?” His tongue pokes at his cheek, tone taunting, “Gettin’ shy again?”

The clothes are dropped unceremoniously on the table, your Pip-Boy following. A glare, as you reach for the zipper of your Vault Suit, starting to yank it down.

“Hey, now.” His hand raises, “Slowly. Got it?”

There’s an immediate urge to resist, to test him - but then, you’re catching the look on his face.

It’s hungry, beneath the brim of his hat. You start to feel like you did in the desert, and then the alley - intrigue, and desire, and an ache from his words, all melding together.

So, you take it slow. The zipper slipping from your throat, to breasts, then belly. A roll of your shoulders as you slip your arms from the tight sleeves.

His eyes follow, lingering on each inch of bare skin that’s revealed.

“Turn around.” He growls when you reach your hips, and for him - you do.

Bending at the waist as you unlace your boots and step out of them. Back arched as you wiggle, pushing the suit down past your knees. Down soft legs that part, so you can step out of them.

A glance over your shoulder, then. His head tilts, eyes sweeping from your ankles to fix on the crux of your thighs. They press together on their own, a thrill at being on display for him.

He catches you looking, his hand lazy as it drops to his lap. A lift of his hips as he adjusts, palming himself. The other hand leaving the revolver shotgun that rests on the cushion next to him.

Crooking two fingers at you, silently beckoning you over.

You fit between thighs that inch wider. His hands curl on his lap, before he’s slowly peeling his gloves off. Warm, against your hips, biting into your skin.

“Don’t make ‘em like you above ground anymore,” He idly comments, a flatness to his tone that betrays nothing.

Soft and smooth skin. You wonder if he’s thinking about ruining it - sinking his teeth in and taking a bite. Leaving a mark that you’ll carry.

You think you’d let him.

His grip dents your skin, before his hands are dropping. A heated look thrown your way, as his face tips up to yours.

“Why don’t you show me again,” He husks, “What you’re so good at.”

Your breath catches - eyes flicking warily towards the door, but he’s quick to call you back.

“Hey, now. Eyes over here.” The Ghoul snaps, “You need to worry ‘bout me more than anyone out there.”

It sends a heat rushing through you, knowing that he’s right. You’re locked in a room with the most dangerous man in the city, and it does something to you.

A boldness, in the way you reach behind. His growled out “fuck” when you let bra loosens - joining the blue and yellow suit on the floor.

The wood is rough under your knees. Letting your hands wander, lifting his hips while your work open his belt. Drawing down the rusted zipper.

You grasp at his hips, tugging the faded fabric until he’s free. Fingers tracing over thighs, just as rough and reddened at the rest of him. It’s still not much, but it’s more of him than you’ve ever seen.

Bare beneath the stained pants, cock already thick and full where it curves against his hip. All from just watching you - perhaps a strange thing to be proud of, but fuck, you are.

Your hands curl around his knees, as your head dips. Taking more time than you did before. Lips pressing against the taut base, as a hand twists in your hair again.

“Come on and thank me, sweetheart.” He growls - urging you upward, “Gettin’ those clothes for you. Make it worth my while.”

It’s different this time. A familiarity in the way your tongue presses against the flushed head. The taste of the salt on your tongue, before your lips are part around him.

A soft groan, when he’s filling your mouth again. You’ve thought about it often since last time. Wondering when he would have you on your knees again. If he’d want more, the next.

Your heartbeat thuds between your thighs, with the shift of his hips into your mouth - chasing his pleasure.

An urge to make him feel good. Without thinking - your hand wraps around his shaft, as your head eases back.

“Easy, now.” He grits, though his eyes are fixed on how your fingers curl around him. How it pumps, squeezing him with spit-slick fingers.

Jerking him into a mouth that parts so prettily for him. Your other hand slipping against his thigh, with feather-light brushes. A short inhale before you take him deep again, your fist sliding down to the base.

The next time you pull him from mouth for a breath, drool stringing from his cock to your lips, he hears himself growling out, “Stop.”

You’re being too tender, and he finds that he can’t stand it. Should have kept you bound, like last time.

The Ghoul’s fingers bite into your chin, your mouth glossy from how you swallowed him down.

“I’m taking you this time. Know you’ve been just aching for it.” He husks, his thumb pressing against your lip. Watching your tongue peek out to taste it, “Go on. Get up, and get your ass over to that table.”

Your desire nearly eclipses everything else. Pushing on his thighs for support, crossing the three steps to the side of the table.

“No,” He follows - the gun clattering on the table top, brought over from the couch. His hands at your hips, guiding you until you’re facing the door, “Right here, sweetheart. I’ll be keepin’ watch.”

It has you remembering where you are - that you’re just supposed to be getting changed. Wondering if you should worry that you don’t care - the thought of piping up, having the risk of losing this chance and denying pleasure again has you quickly adapting.

A hand presses at the small of your back insistently, bending you over it. You can feel him against the curve of your ass, sticky against your skin.

“Cross your wrists,” His thighs shift against yours, as you fix your hands that has flattened against the tabletop.

Making it easy for him to grasp at them with one hand - stretching them further, pressing them against the wood as he kicks your thighs further apart.

Leaving you on tip-toe, arched against him.

“Look at you, listening.” He almost coos, with another lazy rock. His cock shifts, fitting between your thighs, nudging against you.

“I think-” You start, but it’s punctuated by a moan, “Think you just like tying girls up.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it,” He drawls, “Though I don’t discriminate. Theres just something ‘bout havin’ you like this-”

The Ghoul leans over you then, his grip tightening. Pinning you firmly between him and the table, unable to do more than squirm as his free hand slips between your thighs, cupping you.

It’s the first time he’s touched you like this, and your muscles string tight - trying not to buck into his palm. Against fingers that rub against your clit, pressing the sticky fabric to your skin.

“Fuck.” He rasps in your ear. Nails bite into your hips, as he tears the fabric down to your thighs.

Coming back to press against your bare cunt, fingers slipping against your folds. You’re unable to help the soft whimper as he parts you, two fingers teasing at your entrance.

“Please,” You whine, as he pets against you. Smearing your slick up to your clit again, his fingers parting just as he reaches it.

His cock presses against your leg, thick and stiff. A roll of his hips until it’s pressed snug against your cunt - jutting between your thighs just below his hand.

“Your pussy is downright leakin for me, sweetheart,” He growls, “You need it that bad?”

You whine, your head turning to look - watching how he arcs over you. That blown-wide look in his eyes again, as you nod.

There’s a split second as his hand leaves you, before it’s cracking down on the meat of your ass. You gasp in shock as you go still beneath him, the pain unexpected and swirling with your heady need.

“Say it out loud,” He barks out, “Tell me just how much.”

Your skin stings, his fingers twitch before he kneads roughly at the flesh - the burn of it akin to way you ache for him.

“I need it,” You keen, “Need your cock. Want you to fuck me-”

The words cut off - a rough hum of approval before he’s lining himself up, a hand curving to grip your hip. The other flexes around your wrist, before he’s driving himself deep with a single, powerful thrust.

Your cry is loud, this time. Low and rough, pushed from your lungs as your pussy makes room for him.

“Fucking christ, you’re tight,” He grunts, unable to help the shallow buck of his hips, “Better than my goddamn dreams.”

It makes you moan - the gritted-out admission not lost on you.

Even with how wet you are, you still feel like you’re stretched wide. An ache radiating through you, sparking to life as he inches out, only to plunge deep again. The table bites into your hips, back arching as he sets a rough rhythm.

The sharp twinge starting to fade, as you begin to accommodate him. Growing accustomed to the heavy weight of him inside you, the steady stroke against your walls that has you starting to clench down around him.

Your breathing grows shorter, faster. Face turning to bury in the curve of your shoulder, muffling the moans that are pushed from you - until his hand is leaving your hip, twisting in your hair with a sharp tug.

Forcing your head back, his grip anchoring you.

“Don’t think so, darlin’. Know you saw those eyes on you,” He’s lost the steady edge to his voice, words turning rough, “Go on, be loud.��

The Ghoul’s hips pound harder, the rough texture of his cock stroking deep. Each sending a current through you, leaving your fingers and toes flexing, aching for just a little bit more.

“Saw you come in with me. Show ‘em who you belong to.”

“Fuck!” You cry, wishing you had a name to scream. Unable to muffle your ragged breath, the moans he pulls from you.

It fills the room, melding with the slick punch of his cock into your wet and needy cunt. Better than before, because his hands are on you now - leaving your hair, blunt nails dragging down your back. Ghosting across your hip, where your skin presses into the wood.

“Touch me.” You beg, again, “Let me touch myself, I can’t-”

His hand withdraws, and you whine - backpedaling. Afraid that he’s going to pull from you, finish himself across your back or your ass for asking.

“Please. Fuck, please. Don’t, I’m so close-”

He groans at your plea through clenched teeth.

Releasing his grip on you, only for his hand to slide to the base of your throat. His other arm looping beneath you as he hauls you against him, flattening against your ribs.

Palming at a soft breast, as you’re pulled up and pressed flushed to his chest.

“Listen to you, miss manners,” He grins - teeth bared, “That’s more like it, honey.”

The bandolier cuts into your skin, the wood into your thighs. And change in the angle that has your cries growing louder as his cock pounds against a soft spot inside you. Warm breath ghosting against your neck, deep rumbling growls in your ear.

Everything fades, growing hazy. His fingers tighten, but not enough to fully choke the air from you. An implication - your own hands wrapping around his wrist to anchor yourself to him. 

You can hear him inhale you, the scrape of teeth against your skin above the heavy press of his fingers. Salvation in the way the hand splayed beneath your chest drifts lower, his voice smooth in your ear.

“This is for listening,” He husks, “You understand?”

Relentless, when his fingers press against your clit. Slick and circling until you’re grinding into his touch, meeting the hard slap of his hips.

The gasping chant of “fuck, fuckfuckfuck,  please-” turning into mindless whimpers, his rough rhythm growing sloppy.

“Goddamn, you feel good.” It’s a ragged sigh, “Feel your tight little cunt squeezing me. Gonna make a mess, sweetheart?”

It sounds muted, layering with a ringing white noise. Your nails bite into his wrists as the swiftly building tides breaks. Almost missing the sweet growl in your ear.

“Let them hear how a pretty thing like you sounds coming on a cock like mine.”

You do, with the next swirl of his rough fingers - the sound broken as he rips it from you.

Bearing down around the cock that fits so deeply into you, with each blissful pulse of your release. Forgetting about the rest - about the outside world - as your nerves alight with pleasure.

His hand drops from your throat to brace against the table. Bending you flat again as he feels you flutter and gush around his length, crushing you against the top as blunt teeth close against the pulse point of your throat, biting down.

The sounds of his own orgasm muffled - a ragged groan as his cock throbs, as he fucks himself deep into you. Tasting the salt of your skin as you yelp, clenching around him - milking him until your walls are coated with his spend.

He hadn’t meant to - but the urge to pull from you had wavered the moment he buried himself in your cunt. Abandoned completely, after feeling you come so sweetly around him. An instinct lingers even now - to enjoy the soft press of your body against his, your warmth.

You shiver as his lips brush your neck, the closest thing to an apology as you’ll get - before he’s pulling away from you, leaving you clenching and empty.

A ragged hand slips between your thighs as you prop yourself up on your elbows, catching your breath. Pleasure still radiating from your core as fingertips swipe through the come that is just starting to leak from you.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He laughs - the sound ragged, with a flash of yellowed teeth.

“Guess this means you better start cookin’.”

The Vault Suit is left beneath the table, a crumpled up reminder that you’re happy to leave behind.

Your cheeks burn as you leave the saloon - the strangers from before cleared out. A definite wobble to your steps - something that The Ghoul certainly notices, the low tilt of his hat hiding the curling pull of his lips.

Outlining the path towards the next bounty as you find your way out, guessing where you might find a lab along the way.

And it’s only as the city starts to fade, that you realize -

He never bound your wrists again, after.

I have the brainrot for this man for sure! Thank you for stopping by & reading 💖 (and I have also been reading so much about the new chem the Ghoul takes! For plot & smut reasons - I am going with RadAway, haha)

[phenphoenix]

Husk and nifty up next! They are a bit harder since their personalities aren't explored as much. However I still had fun thinking about what to do with them!

In this AU I’d say that husk never was an overlord. Since we don’t know much about nifty and Al’s relationship, which I’m going off of for the sake of this AU, I’m just gonna say that Charolette helped husk in a time he needed it and thus made a deal with him. His personality is also a bit of a shot in the dark as well because that too doesn’t have lots to go off of. But if I had to guess I’d say that husk at his core is a caring person, and can see through any facade. So in this AU *Husker* has those same traits, but with that more silly and slightly sadistic tone that Nifty has.

Nifty or rather Niff. Is basically just Nifty with that grumpy old drunk vibe husk has. And as for backstory I’d say that she was an overlord. And made a deal with charlotte to save her power. But instead of a gambling issue, maybe it was more of an obsessive behavior. Which is something shown in the show. Anyways this obviously backfired and she now works as the bar tender of the hotel. I’ll draw it eventually but the actual bar doesn’t change in size. Instead she just has this goofy stool she uses.

Now since this isn’t a like total swap and Al was still the radio demon at one point that made me wonder if I wanted it to still be his deals the two are under. But I’m on then fence about that because he would likely free their souls. Not wanting to force them to help like how he does in the show. So I figured why not have it be Charolette? It would make sense for the AU being a swap and all, and also give more depth to her overall. I have some more ideas regarding her and Al but I’ll do it in a separate post.

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MASTERPOST

[vesppperoro]

Hey hey hey !! Hope your day has been great !!You should so write something for a Sinner reader !!! I had an idea for one.

Maybe a fem ! Cheshire cat like Sinner ? I imagine she died in the 1800s but her style resembles that of a goth. Instead or purples n pinks , I'd imagine she'd be a black and pink color !! They could be like Alastor !!

Maybe they'd also he like the actual Cheshire cat , but she can float and stuff too. If she had abilities relating to time , like Alice in Wonderland , that would be awesome. I imagine she'd be laid back as hell but full of sarcasm. Her grin also never leaves her face. Perhaps she also does the appearing and disappearing randomly thing too ! Especially the part where she disappears while her smile remains in place for a second or two until it too disappears.

If you could do this , that'd be awesome !! If not , ignore this. Thank you !!

Hazbin Hotel Cast with Cheshire Cat Sinner! Reader (fem)

Includes: Charlie, Vaggie, Angel, Husk, Niffty, Sir. Pentious, Cherri Bomb, Alastor.

A/N: The image below is what they attached to another ask. I went off of it :)

Charlie Morningstar

She LOVES you SO MUCH.

You’re a hostess for the hotel. She met you through Alastor.

Alastor summoned you because he owns your soul. What you sold your soul for, she doesn’t know. She didn’t push you for it.

But she loves your style. She always asks you for tips and sometimes steals your outfits (with your permission because stealing is wrong).

She always jumps whenever you randomly appear next to her, floating and smiling sinisterly.

She loves the deep conversations the both of you have. You tell her about some of the things you remember from her time and she writes it down. Human things were so strange.

Even though you’re owned by Alastor, you’re powerful as hell too.

Whenever the loan sharks attacked, you helped protect the hotel.

I imagine that you’d be able to grow in size as well.

Anyways. You two always chat about things. You’re her go to gossip person!

She loves your tail SO much. Whenever you’re floating around her, you lightly place it around her chest and she pets it.

Vaggie

She didn’t trust you at first. You were way too similar to that stupid radio demon.

You were always smiling, but your smile creeped her out more.

Your sudden appearing and disappearing creeped her out too.

She didn’t trust you for the first few months you were there.

Whenever you disappeared and your smile remained, it creeped her out to no ends.

She warmed up to you, however, when you protected them no matter what.

She likes taking naps with you.

You two also have many deep conversations. You two understand each other quite a bit.

Angel Dust

LOVED your vibe.

Still made lewd jokes about your cat things.

“Do you meow or purr when you cum?”

You did not answer that.

He flirts with you too, even if he isn’t actually attracted to you.

He plays with your tail often.

He loves how you float around!

He won’t admit it, but he loves when you pick him up and float around with him.

You two are best friends, actually.

He finds your chest fluff funny because he has some too.

“Is that supposed to cover your lack of tits?”

When he told you about Val, you almost lost your smile.

You protect him as much as you can.

He trusts you enough to vent to you. You appreciate his trust.

Husk

You’re both cats. You understand each other.

Also the fact you’re both owned by Alastor. You two don’t really like him, so you bond over that.

The deep conversations you both have has also strengthened your bond.

Drinking buddies!! You can hold your liquor better than he can.

You time hang out often as well. He finds you to be a break from the crazies in the hotel.

You two sometimes fly together. You float around him while he flies. You have to grab him sometimes.

You two probably sung a song together. Maybe your own version of Whatever It Takes.

You two have definitely pet each other. He purrs around you.

You two sometimes just chill in silence together.

Niffty

Same thought process as how she feels with Alastor.

She calls you a big bad girl.

She loves your style so much! She always climbs on you.

She pets you like a spoiled kitty.

She loves that you try to pounce on rodents, even if you’re twice their size.

Bug killing partners!!

You two share a BUNCH of dark ideas with one another.

You two have to be separated due to your shared love for chaos.

You treat her like a chaotic daughter.

She saw your true form once and she will never forget it.

She LOVED it SO MUCH.

She always asks if you can turn back into it, but you usually refuse.

Sometimes you float around with her in your arms. She adores it.

Sir. Pentious

You and him have a similar relationship as him and Alastor have.

You two were enemies at one point.

You always beat him, but he fought you a lot.

When he joined the hotel, you knew something was off.

You joined Vaggie and Angel Dust in It Starts With Sorry.

“Cant we just kill him? Shoot him and spill his blood?” You took a middle note in the alto key.

Past that, you two have had some better experiences.

He thinks you’re scary, but he doesn’t mind hanging out with you.

Your shared experiences of life brought you two together.

He probably developed a small crush on you before he fell in love with Cherri Bomb.

Cherri Bomb

Similar to you and Sir. Pentious, you were enemies.

However, you two became frenemies.

She thought you were badass and you thought she was too.

Two girl bosses fr.

You two have definitely fought others for territory before.

When she busted the wall of the hotel, you were overjoyed to see her.

You two probably still do drugs together.

She’s your gossip girl.

You, her, and Angel hang out very often together.

Their duo turned into a trio.

You still have a friendly rivalry with one another.

You two definitely had a song together.

Alastor

And finally, the man you sold your soul to.

You sold your soul when you were at your lowest point to this man. Little did you know it would be the biggest regret of your life.

You try to replicate him. The whole smile and hostess like thing.

He finds you charming.

Your shared loved for radio is what makes you two able to converse without him knocking you down a peg.

He teases you about your cat features, as he does with Husk.

He only had to show his authority to you once and it scared the shit out of you.

You cowered in the corner.

But you put that off.

When he randomly summoned you for whatever hotel work he wanted you for, you were originally pissed.

However, you two have gotten to know each other better through this.

Maybe your soul contract thing wasn’t too bad.

[schrodinger-swriter]

The main cast of Hazbin hotel on Valentine's day

I know I may be a little late. I had to do some shopping today and hadn't had the motivation or time to get down and write until now! I apologize is some characters are given more writing than others... the truth is that I am bised for some characters or simply have more for them. :C

Regardless I hope you enjoy these, I likely won't do these large posts very often.

CHARLIE:

I hope you can forgive me for being a little short on Charlie's part, I had stated earlier what she would do for the holiday in an alphabet post! But to recap she makes you a mixtape with songs dedicated to you, songs made by her and songs she knows you like! The case is handmade too, covered in hearts as well as having a hand written note inside further expressing her affections for you. She would also give you some of your favorite candies! Expect to go out and do something fun and romantic too!

VAGGIE:

Much lower compared to her canon partner, Vaggie is not much of an enjoyer of the holiday. She keeps her thoughts to it to herself, though sometimes you might find her grumbling about all the pink and the red. She just doesn't enjoy the aesthetic all that much. However despite that she will still participate if she knows it will make her significant other happy! She would get you something small, like a stuffed animal and some flowers.

ANGEL DUST:

Respectfully stealing this idea from my mutual, but he already gets so many gifts and cards from his crazed horny fans. He hardly has the room for any more! Though.. he probably sells a lot of it for some extra cash, only keeping some of the candies. If you get him something, he probably wouldn't sell it. He's actually touched. In terms of what he does for you, he might treat you to a night full of him... in more ways than one if you're open to it. If you don't feel like going out he's fine with staying inside and watching some movies in his rooms... perhaps it's a deserved break after a rough day during the love season.

ALASTOR:

Similar to Vaggie, Alastor wouldn't do much. He understands the purpose of the holiday, but he simply. Does not care for it all that much. However I do rather enjoy the though of Alastor sending letters to his friends (Mimzy, Rosie, Niffty, ect). He even puts them in fancy envelopes and seals them with wax. How nice is that? If he can, he might even send a box of chocolates. Fingers, in Rosie's case. However, he doesn't do much to celebrate outside of that. That's assuming he sends anything at all, anyway.

SIR PENTIOUS:

He would go all out. He might even make a machine dedicated to you and gift it. He makes a mechanical heart that beats and gives it to you. He gives you all of the candy he can get his hands on, not exactly sure what you prefer. He takes you out for the night, to the nicest restaurant he can go to without getting jumped (because let's be honest... his days of trying to pick fights and climb to power has probably landed him with some enemies...). He's a total gentleman on the date, opening the door for you and pushing in your chair for you. Considering he's a little flustered that he is on a date with you, everything goes smoothly.

HUSKER:

He likes to stay in, but you can count that if you manage to get him to go out it's going to be a to a club or bar. Anywhere with alcohol. He'd much rather prefer a bar, since it's usually... lower in energy. He also isn't much of a Valentine's person, and he does show his disdain. He does tone down on talking negatively about the day around you, so there's that at least. A simple night in with an affirmation of love is enough for Husk.

NIFFTY:

She bakes you something and perhaps sews you something. A red throw pillow in the shape of a heart. Though you may have to tell her that's what you want because otherwise she's going to try something akin to the roach crown.... shivers... The baked goods are actually pretty good, and you'll be snacking on them for the rest of the week due to Niffty getting too excited and making too many. She will stab someone with a needle if they try to take one without asking you first.

LUCIFER:

He also goes all out, it might actually be a little overwhelming! He can conjure nearly anything he can think of, if his song was being literal! He wants to make sure you're loved, and that there's no possible way that you would ever think otherwise. Despite this he might rather stay inside, or maybe alter the home to look more fancy to make a mock dinner. Generally very sweet and you will be drowning in gifts from the second you wake up to the minute you go to sleep. He also makes you breakfast in bed.

[a-hazbin-reader]

I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if you are can you do a Alastor x reader where reader had a hopper focus on Alastors life as a killer and such and when they die they go to hell and they meet al and they are like fanning out over him and Alastor is kind happy about it and reader is like talking about how they listen to his radio shows on repeat it can be romantic or platonic or be read as ether I don’t mind (:

I love this idea so much! Just two unhinged demons feeding off each other's energy~

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

❌️Romantic

✅️Platonic

TW: Murder, Obsession

Description: ⬆️👆

My snookums

Alastor couldn't even try to be humble about it, soaking up all of your attention and praise with a prideful aura

Husk is so fucking done. He needs a drink

Ngl tho-

He is genuinely mystified and curious as to how you found him out, both in life and death

He was so careful???? The police never found him out so how did some chump fan figure out that he was a serial killer???

Guess he was lucky that you turned out to be a fan and not a snitch

I mean- his handiwork is always beautiful so maybe that's what gave him away

Yeah sure

And then you figure out his identity in HELL and still follow his life like he's a celebrity??

You're making him blush~ Stop it, you~

You know things about him that he himself had forgotten, his earlier days of scrambling for power, his first battles and victories

PLUS you listened to all his radio shows???

Not only are you some sort of genius but you also have great taste 👌

He at least has the decency to blush a little while you fangirl over him and babble about how amazing he is

It's just so good to be properly appreciated

Everyone SHUT UP Y/N is TALKING don't be RUDE

Okay now Vaggie is out

Oh do go on~ He wants to hear more from you~

Would love to hear your early theories about when he was a serial killer, the steps you took to finding him out and what final clue gave him away

Go onnnnnn

Sips tea and kicks his feet when you get to the start of his early afterlife and you begin to figure out who he used to be

Keep goinggggggggg

Is nearly shaking with excitement when you start to theorize where he went for 7 years, nobody has ever granted him this much time and attention

YES

Neither confirms or denies the last part but happily invites you to tag along with him more often

Will literally bring you to places with him just so you can tell everyone around you how amazing he is

What can he say, he likes your style 😉

I hope you liked it 😘

[storiesofsvu]

Gorgeous Girl

Aaron Hotchner x reader warnings: teasing, alcohol consumption smut, heavy petting, make outs, nothing too kinky this time lol.

For once, being out of town for work wasn’t because you were chasing down some deranged serial killer in a distant state resulting in far too little sleep, far too much shitty coffee and coming home more exhausted than you left. While this week was technically still work, there was far less of it, a week of conferences, an hour or two of speaking and you could dodge all the rest out at a luxury sky resort in Breckenridge, Colorado. Two agents from the BAU were required to attend and you and Emily had pulled the ‘short’ straws (depending how you looked at it, of course). Some members of the team thought a week like that would be absolute torture, others thought it would just be too boring, or that having to socialize with that many other agents while representing the BAU was a walking nightmare. To you, the only disadvantage was that you weren’t taking the jet, the remainder of the team needed it, you’d be flying commercial.

You and Emily, however, were more than well prepared to have a girl’s week together off in the mountains, escaping into the small town to see what kind of fun you could find. You’d even splurged, using a bit of your own money to get a larger suite, one with a hot tub on the private balcony overlooking the mountains. One that you planned on drinking bottles of wine together in while gossiping and trash talking.

Which is why you were so surprised when you rounded the corner to your gate.

“Hotch?” You froze on the spot, confusion taking over your face at the sight of your Unit Chief standing in front of you. “Where’s Em? God, does Strauss think we need a babysitter or something?”

“No.” He chuckled at your instant annoyance, “Prentiss got specially requested for a case in New York.”

“Who has the power to pull that?”

“Her mother.”

“Ugh.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. The surprise was wearing off and you suddenly shifted uncomfortably, pulling your blazer tighter around you, feeling Hotch’s eyes on you.

It wasn’t that the man made you feel uncomfortable, no it certainly wasn’t that. It was that he made you feel absolutely flustered. Nights when you laid alone in your empty bed unable to sleep and your hands danced their way down your body, it was him that you were thinking of, pretending they were his fingers touching you, stretching you out. That it wasn’t a silicone toy but his cock filling you so perfectly while he husked dirty words into your ear. As a result, you generally kept your head down around him, did your work and went about your life. He wasn’t totally sure that if it was that you just didn’t like him, if there was some underlying issue you had with men in power, or if it was simply that you were attempting to respect his authority.

“Sorry,” he suddenly spoke, “for ruining whatever plans you and Prentiss had. I know the two of you are close.”

“Mmhmm.” You nodded, staring out the airport window “s’okay.”

“When we get there I’ll see about upgrading, try and get adjoining rooms or something.”

“Already did that.” Your eyes flicked back to him briefly, “got one of the larger two bedroom suites that close off with like, French doors or whatever. We were planning on,” your cheeks flushed suddenly, realizing you were about to admit to your boss that you were going to play hooky, “taking…advantage of as many amenities as we could.”

“Hmm.” He chuckled, watching the way you quickly looked away so you could watch the planes drive around on the tarmac, basically refusing to look at him, “I’m sure that was all Prentiss’ plan.” That earned a huff of a laugh from you but you still didn’t dare look him in the eye, “do you have any idea how many of these things I’ve been to over the years? Guess how many times I’ve ditched out on them.” He smiled softly when your eyes flicked back to him, “places like this always have the best scotch, and the bonus is that it’s free.”

You swore he winked at you, a grin on his face that sent tingles shooting through your body and you were incredibly thankful when they suddenly announced boarding. At the very least, you and Emily had also upgraded to business class, you wouldn’t have to worry about minimal personal space for the flight, there’d be a barrier between you and Hotch. While you were distracted with your phone, he’d managed to disappear and you weren’t entirely sure where to, but you took the opportunity to open your text messages.

‘I cannot believe you.’

‘Oh come on, like I’m happy about this either. A week with my mother?! Who’d they end up sending?’

‘Hotch…’

You didn’t have to imagine Emily’s laughter, you could practically feel it through the phone as the three little dots popped up, disappeared and then popped up again. She, of course, was the only one who knew about your crush on Hotchner, she’d been planning on teasing you about it all week, hoping that maybe you’d find some other brooding FBI agent to get under while out of town.

‘Maybe that’ll work out for you. You can enjoy the view and the hot tub with him, have a nice romantic weekend.’

‘I fucking hate you.’

*

The first two days of the conference were fine, you stayed out of Aaron’s way, went to the presentations you were speaking at and did the required amount of socializing. You found that he was usually gone before you in the mornings, but there was always fresh coffee in the pot waiting for you. He made sure to respect your space as much as he could, if he swung by the suite to change in the afternoon and you were there he wouldn’t linger, and he’d make sure to change in the bathroom.

Day three was a little more on the tedious side, sitting through a lecture you would have rather slept through, one that was meant more for younger agents but they’d asked someone from the BAU to sit in and help with the question period. You ran into Hotch at lunch and he inquired about your plans for the rest of the day now that the mandatory attendance parts were done, asking if maybe you wanted to explore the mountain town, maybe grab some dinner outside of the resort. You laughed awkwardly, praying your cheeks weren’t as hot as they felt and politely declined, he shrugged, teasing that you would be missing out, but to enjoy your night in. You were incredibly glad he wandered off after that, the butterflies in your stomach nearly too much to handle as you got accustomed to the more casual version of your boss.

Dinner was spent with an old friend from the academy, laughing as you caught up over multiple courses and a bottle of wine. You said an early goodnight to them, making your way back to your suite, happy to find it empty and your eyes drifted through the balcony window, lingering on the hot tub. Figuring there was no better time but the present you quickly stripped, changing into your bikini before swiping a bottle of wine from the fridge and a spare wine glass.

*

Aaron also ended up running into a couple of old friends while out in the town, friends who had worked this conference in the past and knew exactly where to go for the best meals and fanciest scotch. Free from the responsibility of running a team he had stated to loosen up on this work vacation, a little rougher around the edges, inhibitions lowered and that all remained when he returned to the hotel room. Toeing out of his shoes he hung up his coat before starting to unbutton his shirt as he moved through the room, wondering what was stashed in the bar that he could indulge into now, potentially coerce you into a drink with him at the very least.

He could hear music echoing from the balcony and his gaze got pulled out there where he caught sight of the steam rising from the hot tub into the cool night air. His eyes lingered on you, nestled in the corner of the tub you were fully settled into the padded seat, arms extended across the backs of it, your head titled back with your eyes closed as you relaxed, hair pulled up to the top of your head to keep it dry. He could see the shimmer of water and sweat on your skin and he instantly wanted to lick up the exposed column of your neck. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his eyes sunk lower, not missing the curve of your chest just visible above the water, hot pink fabric clinging to your skin. You were at a complete level of peace that he’d never seen before and he couldn’t help but want to see more of it, want to explore how far he could push your boundaries and began to wonder just how professional he had to remain on this retreat.

Though of course, that had technically been his idea from the start.

As soon as Ambassador Prentiss called, Emily was groaning about how much of a waste it was that she was missing the conference. It only took a raised brow from him to get her to admit the plan was to ditch as much as the two of you could, that you’d splurged for the all inclusive package and a very private balcony and jacuzzi. He wasn’t assigned to take her place, and he didn’t jump at the offer to make it not so obvious, but no one else knew about the extra perks so he simply looked like he was taking one for the team.

Figuring it was now or never he retreated to his side of the suite, changing into his trunks before swiping a bottle of scotch and a glass.

You were more relaxed than you had been in ages, warm water bubbling around your body as the wine sunk into your system. The music soothed through you, pulling you further from reality and honestly, it was pretty nice to not be chasing after some psychopath right now, even if you were still kinda surrounded by talks of crime. You were almost considering calling Emily, checking in on how things were going with the team, updating her on how things were going here, no doubt she’d have mountains of questions and teasing about you sharing a suite with Hotch.

And that was exactly how and why you didn’t hear him come out onto the terrace.

“Think you can warm me up?”

His deep voice shook through the night air and you jumped, water splashing around you as your heart nearly burst through your chest while your eyes flew open.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You swore, chest heaving as you finally took him in, trying not to gulp at his bare chest, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry.” He chuckled, ducking his gaze for a moment, watching the way you sunk further under the water to avoid his lingering eyes, “you mind if I join? Or I can come back later.” He lifted the bottle of liquor in his hand, “just thought maybe we could have a drink.”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” You shook your head, “that’s fine, come on in.” You shifted further into the corner of the tub, turning your back while Hotch got into the water, wiping your hands on the towel to check your phone, unsurprised to have a couple of messages from Em. Once the water settled, you refilled your wine glass, turning back to face him as you sunk into the seat again.

“This is nice.” He murmured softly, letting out a relaxed sigh before pouring out a drink, “you and Prentiss really have a hack for these conferences.”

“Mmmhmm.” You replied over the brim of your glass, taking a hefty swig.

“You get up to anything fun tonight?”

“Ran into a friend. Had dinner at the steakhouse downstairs.”

Hotch frowned lightly, he didn’t miss the way you’d tensed up a little bit once you’d realized he was there, once he was in such close proximity and under the water with you. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back later? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” You practically yelped, grimacing at how quick you were to keep him there, “I’m fine. Totally fine, promise. I just… you’re… my boss.” Your gaze was redirected into your wine glass, “never really seen you in anything other than a suit and now…” You blindly gestured in his direction and then to yourself with a little laugh, “and I don’t think a pink bikini is exactly business casual and it’s not exactly my classiest one… thought Em would be the only one seeing it.” You muttered and then let out a little gasp, suddenly glancing up, “not that I brought it so she could see it! We’re not… that’s… no… we’re friends, I don’t swing that way.”

This time Aaron laughed, taking a sip of his drink, “it’s fine. You need to relax, alright?” He raised his drink out to you and you timidly clinked your glass with his. “Enjoy this while you can.” He gestured to the view, the night sky painting the mountains in gorgeous colours, “besides,” he smirked across at you, “I’ve seen you undercover and a few of those outfits leave very little to the imagination.”

You glanced up to him, noticing the flush in his cheeks, the smirk on his lips before he took another swig of his drink. There was a gleam in his eye that you hadn’t seen before that you didn’t exactly recognize and if you’d known any better, you would’ve said he was flirting with you.

“Are… are you drunk?” You suddenly asked, nearly regretting it the moment you’d said it and he laughed again, a sight and sound that made your insides weak.

“I think I legally shouldn’t drive anywhere, but I’m still completely in control of myself.” He nodded toward the half empty bottle on your side of the jacuzzi, “are you alright?”

“I’m so sorry sir.” You blushed, ducking your eyes again, “that was inappropriate. And yeah, I’m totally fine, big lunch, big dinner, high tolerance.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His smile softened, “and you can drop the sir, we don’t need to keep up that professionalism right now.”

“Oh..” You sank deeper under the water, taking another sip of your drink. Part of you wanted to disappear while the other part of you wanted to complain you were overheating, pull yourself up onto the ledge of the tub and flaunt your half naked body. The desire to throw yourself at him was only a few glasses of wine away and you knew it. Instead, the two of you sunk into a semi comfortable silence as you continued to drink, watching the night sky.

“You know, your talk the other day was fantastic.” He spoke softly, his voice floating across the water to you, “better than any other profilers have done on the topic.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled quietly, risking a very quick glance up at him before you were staring at the horizon again. Hotch let another few moments of silence pass before he spoke up again, the corner of his mouth curving up when he asked you,

“Why so shy?”

That caught your attention, your eyes flying up to his as you clutched at your wine glass, “what?” He laughed, shaking his head at you.

“I’m just saying, you’ve been so reserved, aware, quiet on this trip. You almost seem to make yourself smaller whenever I’m around and I’m not sure if it’s because you only think of me as your boss or if I’ve done something to make you at unease.”

“Christ.” You muttered, “I thought we weren’t profiling this week.”

“Have… I done something?” He asked, near worry taking over his face and you were quick to drain your drink before jumping to action.

“No, absolutely not! Hotch, please, you’re like, the most respectful guy I know. You make me feel… well, a lot of things, but uncomfortable is not one of them.” The words slipped from your lips before you could even think about them and you glanced up, your cheeks burning to catch his eyes widening slightly before he grinned, his hand catching yours, grounding you from whatever spiral you were about to drown in.

“So tell me.” He murmured, his voice silky soft as it hit your ears, his thumb brushing over your knuckles and he gently tugged at your hand after your glass found home on the edge of the tub, “come here gorgeous.”

The pet name nearly made you melt the instant it had left his lips and you felt the fluttering between your legs as you willingly moved through the water when he softly pulled you to him once more. Your breath caught in your throat when he guided you to straddle his lap, one of his hands hesitantly resting on your hip under the water while the other continued to play with your fingers gently.

“Well?” He asked, glancing up at you with a devilish look in his eyes and you let out a low breath, “what do I make you feel?”

“Flustered.” You managed out, your heart ready to beat itself out of your chest, feeling his thumb rub against your bare skin under the water, encouraging more responses from you, “unfocused, distracted…”

“Hmm…” he leant in, pressing a tender kiss to the underside of your jaw, “is that all?”

“Christ, Hotch.” You muttered, your eyes nearly fluttering shut as his hand let go of yours, moving so his thumb and forefinger could pinch your chin softly.

“Aaron…” He insisted, his eyes boring into yours as you opened them and you nodded softly, nearly whimpering at the way his thumb shifted to trace your lower lip. “What else?”

“Absolutely and incredibly fucking turned on.”

“Is that so?” He murmured, tilting your head to the side so he could kiss your neck, his lips brushing across your skin as he spoke, “is that last part just right now?”

“All week.” You replied, your pulse racing as he continued to litter your skin with tender kisses “all the goddamn time…”

“You think about me a lot hmm?” He nipped at your neck and you gasped, your body jolting towards him under the water, “what do you think about me doing?” He nuzzled into the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss just below your ear, “hmm?”

“Aaron…” you breathed out, your head tilted back with your eyes shut as his lips continued to dance across your skin. His hand gently pinched at your hip under the water.

“Don’t go shy on me now, tell me.. what do you think about me doing?”

“K- kissing me.” You managed out, unsure whether the heat in your cheeks was from the water, the way you were already putty in his hands or embarrassment of admitting it to his face. A gasp broke free of your lips at the sensation of his hand tracing up and down your spine and you automatically arched toward him, “touching me…” The hand he had under the water toyed with the knot of your bikini on your back, his dry one moving back to your chin, tilting your face back to his.

“I want you to look at me when you say the next one.” His thumb traced your lips, “come on gorgeous girl, I know there’s more you like to think of me doing, what is it?”

“Fucking me…” Somehow you were able to hold his gaze while the words floated out of your mouth, it was likely because your brain was already in a haze, first the wine, then the heat and now utterly intoxicated by Hotch’s touch.

“Bet you think about that one the most, don’t you?” He asked with a grin and you couldn’t help but nod, “when you’re alone at night, touching yourself, pretending it’s me. Picturing me naked, my cock stretching you out until your legs are shaking and you’re seeing stars.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Oh no,” he chuckled darkly, “I’ll have you screaming my name by the end of the night sweetheart, just wait.”

You let out a whimper, it was all you had time to do before Aaron sat forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss that swallowed down any further noise coming from you. The kiss was full of fire, Aaron quickly dominating it and you were completely happy to let it happen, sinking deeper into his arms as yours looped around his shoulders. His dry hand slid up the back of your neck, fingers sinking into your hair while the other hand ventured further south, groping at the globe of your ass. You let out a small moan into the kiss, giving his tongue access to your mouth and he eagerly dove in. You could taste the scotch on him as your tongue danced with his, the smallest hint of a cigar from earlier and you couldn’t help but groan, your hands starting to play with his hair.

He pulled back ever so softly, nipping at your lip quickly before his mouth trailed across the side of your jaw, he left a feather light kiss behind your ear that caused you to let out an airy breath, your head lolling back and he felt himself twitch, hardening in his trunks. His mouth pressed lazy kisses down your neck before he made home in the crook of your neck, alternating between kissing, sucking and biting.

“Oh Aaron…” You shifted in his lap, lightly grinding against his cock and he let out a low groan onto your skin, his hands clutching you impossibly close to him. He raised his face, eyes dark with arousal as he gazed across at you before his lips found yours again and you were moaning into the kiss, grinding harder down onto his lap, a small gasp leaving your lips when you felt him getting harder underneath you.

Aaron couldn’t get enough of you, he wanted more, he wanted all of you, he wanted his hands and mouth everywhere all at once, he was drunk on your kisses alone and craved every inch of you. The lingering of your perfume was wafting through his senses, the way your lips moved against his made his cock utterly ache as you brushed against it. As much as he wanted to bend you over right then and there he would be completely satisfied just kissing you all night, the internal battle doing its best to figure out what he wanted to act on while your fingertips scratched as his head. You only broke the kiss when you felt like you couldn’t breath anymore, gasping for air, your eyes half shut, forehead resting against his while his hands soothed up and down your sides.

“God…”

“Still not the right name.” He teased, pulling a small laugh from you, one that you opened your eyes at, sitting back every so slightly before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. His hands trailed up your arms, coming to rest at the base of your neck, gently tugging at your bikini strings. “May I?”

“Mmhm.” You nodded with a wicked grin while your own hands splashed behind you to undo that knot and Hotch let the fabric fall from your skin, not even noticing it float away in the water as you sat up. His eyes raking down your body and over your chest, letting out a groan at the slight bounce as you settled, the way the water dripped down your tits, nipples hard in the cool air.

“Gorgeous girl.” He murmured, his hands gently groping your chest, squeezing your tits, thumbs flicking over your nipples and you moaned softly. “Such pretty sounds too.” You giggled softly, feeling the heat creeping back into your cheeks as his full attention was on your half naked body. His hands continued to play with your chest, rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger while yours came up to cup his face, ducking to kiss him again, unable to get enough.

Moaning softly into the kiss, his hands squeezing at your chest, you ground down onto his lap harder, feeling the bulge building between his legs. Your tongue dove into his mouth, doing what you could to keep control of yourself as he increased the pressure on your chest, pinching your nipples. After a few moments he broke the kiss, eager to duck down and suck a nipple in between his lips, teeth scraping against the pert bud. Your hands wrapped around his head, threading into his hair as you held him tighter to you,

“Fuck Aaron…” You groaned and you felt his lips curve up into a grin against your skin.

“That’s it sweetheart.” He murmured, blowing cold air onto your nipple before swapping to the other side, “say my name.”

“God Aaron,” your fingers tightened in his hair, nails scratching at his head, “that feels so good.”

He groaned in response, teeth scraping against your tender skin before he pulled off your chest, burying his face between them to leave a trail of kisses all the way up your neck before kissing you deeply again. When he finally pulled away this time his hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you while he stood,

“Up.” He instructed, “out.”

“Why?” You half laughed, finding your balance on your feet in the water as his arm wrapped around your waist.

“Well I can’t fuck you in the hot tub gorgeous.” He husked against your lips before picking you up in his arms, guiding you to wrap your legs around his waist and he was finally able to get you out of the tub.

Lips pressed against yours, tongue sliding back into your mouth he carried you back into the suite, managing to snag a towel from the back of the chair to toss down onto the bed before he let go of your legs. You let out a whine at the loss of contact, staying up on your toes to not break the kiss and he chuckled into your lips, hands groping at your ass. His hand cradled your face, pulling an inch away from you,

“Lie back gorgeous.” He muttered, stealing another kiss before nudging you back towards the bed, “I want to know how pretty you sound when you come.”

You collapsed down onto the bed and Hotch was quick to gently drop over you, catching himself with his hands as he caged you into the bed, his lips kissing at your skin again. Your arms wound around him, pulling him closer to you as your lips found his, tongue easily sliding into your mouth when he deepened the kiss. You moaned softly against his lips, back arching off the bed as your hips rocked up, eager for more friction. He let out a low groan at the feeling of you brushing against his cock through thin fabric, feeling himself throb inside his shorts. His free hand slid down your body, swiftly untying one knot of your bikini bottoms and then the other, pulling them away from your body while you lifted your hips to help before he was tossing them behind him.

Aaron cupped between your legs, palm rubbing on your clit while his fingers massaged your wetness, pressing against you, teasing you slightly as you whined into the kiss. A finger slid through your folds, spreading your juices around your cunt, dampening his fingers before he brought them up to your clit, rubbing slow circles on it.

“Aaron… please..” You whined, hips rocking up to his touch as you clutched him tighter to you.

He chuckled softly, finger dipping back down before it sunk into your pussy, pumping a few times before he added a second one. “Already so wet for me.” He husked into your ear, crooking his fingers in search of the sensitive spot inside you as he continued to pump his hand between your legs.

“Fuck…” you moaned, your body sinking into the lush bed as sparks began to fly under your skin, pleasure fluttering through you while his lips returned to yours, swallowing down your noises. His fingers twisted and scissored inside you, stretching out your warm walls while they skillfully fucked you. He curled them again and you broke the kiss with a gasp, body shivering against the bed as your eyes scrunched shut. You could feel your pussy pulsing around his fingers and you were sure your juices were dripping down his wrist already at this point. His nose nudged at your chin, giving him access to your neck again, nipping and sucking the sensitive skin while his fingers continued to toy with you. “Please…” you panted, “please fuck me already.”

Aaron’s breath was hot on your neck as he huffed out a laugh, pressing a kiss to your lips before he pulled away, sitting up on his knees between your legs, watching his fingers disappear into you for a few more thrusts before pulling them out of your cunt and sucking them into his mouth. He let out a groan at the taste of your juices, his cock aching at the thought of truly tasting you, wishing that he had more time but you were already whining again and he didn’t want to tease you anymore than he already had. Shifting, he quickly tugged his shorts off and his cock sprung free, hard and throbbing, he wrapped a hand around it, smearing the pre cum as he pumped himself a few times, his eyes falling shut while he let out a heavy sigh before a realization washed over him.

“Fuck.”

“What?” You asked, your eyes flying open, widening slightly at the sight in front of you now that he was completely naked.

“I don’t have any condoms.”

“I’m clean.” Was your immediate response, not wanting to delay things any longer, “and I’ve got an implant.”

“Are you sure?” He asked softly and you nodded eagerly.

“Please Aaron..” you whimpered, “I need you…”

He leant forward, hand guiding his cock, rubbing it through your lower lips, smearing your juices around it as you let out a small gasp before he sunk fully into you and you both let out a satisfied moan.

“God you’re tight.” He muttered, dropping over you again, burying his face into the crook of your neck as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him impossibly deep inside you. “Fuck…” He stayed still for a moment, feeling you fluttering around him, he knew if he tried to move he risked coming incredibly early, he was already throbbing.

“Fuck you feel so good.” You murmured, arms squeezing at him gently, moaning when he nipped at your skin and that was enough to get him going.

He set a steady pace, plunging into you with a roll of the hips, cock dragging over every inch of your walls, hitting the right spots with each thrust. You clung onto him, your hips rocking up off the bed to meet his with every push, your moans getting louder as he fucked you, pleasure soaring through your body.

“Fuck…” you whined, “harder Aaron, please.”

He pushed himself up, sitting back on his haunches while he grabbed one of your legs, resting it on his shoulder groaning when he slipped even deeper into your pussy. You gasped softly, your hands clutching at the bedspread while his hips came crashing into yours, the noises leaving your lips more frequent, your eyes scrunching shut.

“Christ,” he swore at the way you pulsed around him, squeezing him tight, the coil building deep inside his gut as he watched himself disappear into your cunt. His hands grabbed your hips, lifting them off the bed as he continued to snap his hips into you and you cried out at the new angle, your pussy clenching down around him. “Gon’ need you to come sweetheart.” He grunted, “m’not gonna last.”

“Don’t stop.” You groaned, fire prickling under your skin as your body shivered, “oh fuck!”

Aaron reached down with one hand, pads of his fingers rubbing furiously at your clit and your body shook, hips jolting as he continued to pound into you. You felt the pleasure burst, pussy clenching around his thick cock, juices dribbling across your skin as you cried out.

“Oh god Aaron!” Your hips jumped in his hands, body shaking, thighs clenching around him as your peak hit, a chorus of his name and breathy swears escaping your lips, floating around the room just enough to drive him absolutely wild. “Fuck… yes! Oh fuck Aaron.”

He didn’t let up, thrusting faster, the pressure on your clit harder as he leant forward, driving into you harder as he started to chase his own peak. He grunted, hips nearly faltering as your pussy continued to flutter around him, his arm winding tightly around your waist, holding you to him.

“C’mon gorgeous. You’ve got one more in you. Come again for me.”

You let out a whine, your hands gripping at his body, nails digging into his skin and you swore you practically blacked out when your second orgasm hit, letting out a cry as you tensed in his arms, twitching as you whimpered. Aaron groaned, fucking into you a few more times as his hips faltered and he sunk into your cunt with one last heavy thrust, hissing as he came, spilling into your pussy.

Panting, he gently collapsed over you, arms winding tighter around you in an effort to solidify this moment into his memory, not wanting to forget the way you looked, the way you felt wrapped around his cock, the noises you made when you came, how your lips felt on his skin, the sweetness of your taste. Under him you were slowly catching your breath, a happy hum leaving your lips when he placed a kiss onto your shoulder. One of your hands gently ran up and down his back and you felt him relax deeper into you, letting out a soft moan. Finally he pulled his head up enough to kiss you, lips moving lazily together until he gently rolled off you onto his side, letting out a quiet hiss as his cock slipped out of your warmth. You rolled toward him, happily accepting the arm he swung over waist as he pulled you toward him again, ducking down to nip at the tender spot forming on your neck before kissing you softly.

“Well that’s one way to enjoy a conference.” You murmured, your lips curving up into a grin and he huffed out a laugh, eyes sparkling down at yours.

“Fuck the conference. Let me give you a reason to stay in bed.”

“Is that an order Agent Hotchner?” You asked with raised brow and he smirked.

“A direct one.” He kissed you again, lips brushing yours as he spoke, “no way either of us is leaving this suite ‘til Friday. That’s why room service was invented.”

“I don’t think that’s right, but I’m not going to argue.”

“Oh but you love to prove you’re right.” He teased, smiling as you rolled him onto his back.

“Yeah, but I can think of a few better uses for my mouth right now.”

*

Aaron’s suggestion was exactly the way you spent the next two days, tangled in each other’s limbs, sheets barely covering bodies while you discovered every inch of the other persons skin. By Friday afternoon you knew just exactly how to touch each other so that you would see stars every single time. Aaron was about to suggest staying the weekend for a few more days of bliss when his phone went off and you were both called back to work. The team was already on the jet, meaning you were flying commercia to California to meet them there.

You were immediately roped into a coffee run with Emily, even if it was only to the breakroom and back, she had to get her complaints out about the days with her mother and honestly, wanted to know how things went being trapped in a hotel with Hotch all week. Scooping up your coffee you snagged a granola bar from the shelf, wandering back down the hall to the team as you caught up, you shoved the bar into your pocket so you could pull open the door and your hand hit something metal, your brow furrowing as you stalled in your tracks. In turn, Emily pulled open the door, propping it so Hotch could step through, no doubt on his way to secure his own caffeine, nodding to the both of you as he said a quick thanks.

“Aaron!” You called after him, having now pulled the item out of your pocket, realizing it was his watch and he turned back to you just in time to catch it as you tossed it to him. His head titled in confusion, glancing up at you as he slid it back onto his wrist, “you left it in the bin when we went through security, I forgot I grabbed it.”

“Thanks.” A flash of a smile crept onto his lips before he turned away, making his way down the hall.

“Oh… my god.” Emily quietly gasped, smacking your arm, “you hooked up and you weren’t planning on fucking telling me?!”

“What?” Your eyes shot to her, quickly stepping through the door to make sure Hotch wouldn’t hear you, “no. Em, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Please. When have you ever called him Aaron before? And I did not miss that hickey on his neck.”

Your eyes widened quickly, remembering how you’d made home in the crook of his neck while riding him, his arms wound around you, squeezing you softly as his cock plunged into your cunt. It was the same round he’d lavished your chest, his mouth barely leaving them, under your shirt you had your own set of hickeys and bite marks littered across your body. The memories were enough to bring a tingling down south, desire beginning to flood through you as heat crept into your cheeks. That of course was enough for Emily to confirm that her suspicions were right, trying not to gape as she attempted to form a coherent response. Before she could though, Hotch came back through the door, already hanging up a call from Garcia.

“Prentiss, take JJ and head down to talk to the family, Agent,” he turned to you, “grab your coat we’re going to the crime scene.”

“Yes sir.” You nodded, your cheeks flushing at the use of the title already and a possessive look shot through his eyes lightning fast, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a very brief smirk that Emily caught and did her best to hold back a laugh. He was back across the room in an instant, handing out tasks to the rest of the team and Emily pinched at your arm.

“Well, get ready for round two in the car.” She teased and you turned to her with a smug grin.

“More like round eleven.”

_____________________________

@alexusonfire @svushots @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @emobabeyy @daddy-heather-dunbar @mrs-ssa-hotch @hotchandspencearedilfs @mina2000alex @telepathay @darlingsfandom @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat @hopedoesntknow @thehauntingofbasingse @plaidbooks @niyizh @ababanana @tommyriddleobsessed @supercriminalbean @hotchs-bitch @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @emlynblack @ivyflowers13 @ratsnestinmyhair @silversprings-mp3 @originalbrunettecharacter @elz-artzzz @ssaaaronhotchnerr @itsrainingreid @speedynana @tgskitten @madamsnape921

[radioappleheadcanons]

Lucifer does the thing where he'll get angry at Alastor for something he did in a dream. It drives Alastor crazy because Lucifer's way of dealing with it is to ignore him and of course, Alastor hates it. But he has no idea what he's done so he can't figure out how to fix it. When Lucifer does finally snap at him about it, Alastor is ticked off because he is not apologizing in his non-apologizing way for something he didn't do. This just upsets the king more. It goes on for a while before Charlie corners Alastor and explains that for a man whom dreams are such a big part of him, both in that, he's a dreamer and that sometimes dreams aren't just dreams, it is very much so a big deal.

Vaggie, Husk, and Angel are all assigned to make Lucifer understand why Alastor is offended (Charlie made all three of them do it, under Nifty gaze). They are much less enthused and less in-depth but eventually, they manage to convince him that it's because Alastor was offended that he thought the redhead would do that. They end up taking it out and putting it behind them, though occasionally they still have tiffs over it. It's pretty fast to resolve though, because Lucifer will give Alastor the details of the dream and Alastor will assure that it won't happen. Or at least give the situation where he would do it.

This works well, at least until Lucifer finds a recording of Al and Vox singing Stayed Gone, which he takes great offense to because Alastor picking another 'rival' is something the man has assured him won't happen.

So, he was not happy about the fact that Alastor clearly had something going on with this other random demon. The others try to convince him that the TV Overlord isn't a threat, to which he responds that of course, he's not a threat. He's the bloody king sinners can’t be a threat to him. But that doesn't mean he can't be upset that Alastor lied to him. He's very huffy about it, and very snappy when it comes to the radio demon.

Alastor is very annoyed by this and demands to know what he did to earn this treatment. Only he keeps getting told that he should know and that the king refuses to speak with a lair. The others explain what happened and Alastor is horrified that Lucifer thinks he has something going on with Vox of all people. He immediately sets to rectify it. Only the one place where he has enough power to keep Lucifer there is his radio tower, and when Lucifer is trying to leave, they sort of wrestle and start broadcasting.

The Whole of the pride ring hears the radio demon assure someone, who is far away enough from the mic to not be clear or recognizable, but close enough that they know there's someone in the booth with Alastor, that "No I don't have any other rivals and why on earth would you think that?…….. Well yes, I did cut into the song the TV overlord was singing that it wasn't a rivalry thing it was him defending his honor and name! I've never started anything with him, only replied when he was attacked, and even then, it is always the bare minimum, can't so you see how little effort I put into the song?…….. You have nothing to worry about darling, you're the only one I consider to be worthy of being a true rival, please stop being angry and ignoring me……. It's horrible and it's not making you any happier either."

The voice gets a little clearer as Lucifer gets closer to the mic, to Alastor, and farther away from the door. It's then that he notices the on-air light and points it out. Alastor cusses, a first for many to hear, and ends it. The whole pride ring is in uproar trying to figure out who was in his booth with him. Vox meanwhile is fuming because excuse me? What do you mean we're not rivals? If anyone isn't a rival it's whoever this interloper is!

[thr0wnawayy]

Chapter 429 has been my Dabi's Dance

I can't stop smiling.

I wanted to start off by saying thank you. Not to Hori, but to you all. Every last one of you in these tags for your contributions. Be it analysis, re-reads, fan works or simply your perspectives. I look forward to seeing what you will make in the future.

So, Thank you.

I suppose I should start at the beginning. MHA was always in the background of my life and I hated it. I don't watch anime and yet still MHA related media would make it's way onto my socials in all it's obnoxious forms. This went on for years.

And then suddenly, it stopped. It seemed like MHA's craze had died down, I'd still see it from time to time through merchandise but never to the consistency it had prior.

That was until Dabi's Dance was published and the net went wild.

I knew a few things about Endeavor from my past exposure, he was universally hated and abused his kids and wife (to the point she scalded her son in a fit of psychosis).

Deciding I had nothing better to do, I found myself searching to see what kind of consequences would befall such a monstrous character.

Would he fall like Icarus, be torn apart by the public, how would the family he ruined react to the news?.

And then, nothing. No punishment, no reaction. Just dead air.

I recall that my face dropped internally. My blank expression mirrored my phone screen's sterile nature, as it displayed the information in front of me.

He got away with it. So I did some digging and it got so much worse.

Bakugo's evasion of any consequences or damages, coddled and shielded by Hori's inability to go through on anything.

Hawks who murdered a near crippled man on a hypothesis, for the mere crime of having the "wrong" quirk, for not giving up, for being "unlucky"

Aizawa, Hori's little mouthpiece. who decides to play judge, jury and executioner with the futures of students he's supposed to be teaching. Only for the Nedzu and the narrative to allow him, his friends turned into lapdogs that agree to the letter.

The Commission who strive to keep theirrotting husk of a system alive through assasins, child soldiers and indoctrination.

Even if it's gears must be lubricated with blood, even if it means lying to the world and having them clean up the mess. They MUST stay on top, the illusion must be upheld.

I just couldn't fathom how this was seen as a good thing.

And somewhere along the way I began to feel something akin to hate. Not your typical ire, one powered by anger, no.

I wanted to see how low Hori would go, just how horrifically he would mangle a series that everyone had once praised.

I wanted to witness what wonders a jaded community would create, to show what they were capable of (to create and understand MHA in a manner Hori wishes he could even emulate a fraction of)

I wished to see your own expressions of love and hatred.

The thought of witnessing the breaking point, the dust settling to expose all the glaring flaws and infested wounds of MHA. It buzzed in my brain like electricity.

The idea that when all was said and done, you, the people would do what Hori couldn't/wouldn't and forge the bones and salvagble bits of MHA into a story worth remembering.

One where abusers are punished for their crimes instead of rewarded

Where victims can have a voice, feel and grow, carve their own paths and move forward from their trauma.

Where the implications of MHA's rotting and disingenuous society get explored instead of swept under the rug

Where people get a chance.

I waited eagerly for the day it would all fall apart.

So, do you know what I did when I logged onto the tag and saw your posts!?.

I laughed, the shrill giggle in the back of my throat quickly surging into an almost manic cackle. It was like lightning, vindicating and sobering all at once. My face was stretched to it's absolute limits with how wide my grin was. I could almost hear the shattering of MHA's last bit of integrity and I loved it.

The realization MHA's greatest threat was the author himself, It's one that I grasped long ago (as far back as the Dark Dekiru Arc) and I'm sure most of you understood this as well.

But to see that more of you are starting to get it, to realize there's no going back. That as the curtains draw near and the lights begin to dim, there is no other side here. Violence begets violence and Hori's gone past the event horizon.

It feels, hopeful. Perhaps we can build something worth saving.

It's been a wild ride so far and it's still ongoing. Hori's time is long over, it has been for a while now, so I suppose what I'm asking Is:

Now It's Your Turn, what's your play?

_______________________________________

Update:

IT'S FINALLY HAPPENING!

[contumacious-arcadia]

oooo ooooo OOOOOO!

What if Al was actually the original redeemed sinner and *that's* where he was for those 7 years? What if he actually did die again 7 yrs back but was appalled when he reincarnated in heaven and immediately started a campaign to be sent back? What if he accidentally redeemed himself by murdering all those other Overlords?

We can see just how abusive and sadistic Overlords can be towards the souls they own by looking at Val's character. If you contrast that with what we've seen in Husk/Nifty/Al's interactions, despite owning their souls and being a snarky little shit towards Husk (and scaring him a bit when he brings up Al's deal), Al never once actually hurts them and arguably provides them with a comfortable, relatively safe, and happy life in the hotel. These interactions are in present day, but we have been given no evidence to show that he ever treated them differently. On the contrary, when Al shows back up in the pilot, Husk immediately bitches at him when he is ordered to bartend - back-talking to his soul's owner with no hesitation and no fear. It stands to reason that he's comfortable doing so because Al's treatment of him has been the same since they made their deal.

In the context of hell, Al's rise to power seems to have had an accidental side effect of killing the super bad guys, saving sinners from an eternity of abuse and torture, and providing them with a much better contract. Like, *MUCH* better. No more rape, torture, druggings, mind control, etc... Al's obviously not a saint, but in this context, he may have been pretty close to hell's version of one.

If this is the case, Al obv would have *hated* being in heaven and likely immediately took it upon himself to attempt returning to hell BUT heaven obv wouldn't be cool with just letting him fall because they would *not* want hell finding out that redemption is possible. (Remember, in this scenario Al was redeemed 7 years prior to the show's pilot.) What if THAT's what his deal was? What if the deal was: either heaven just murders him on the spot -or- they allow him to fall back to hell in his original sinner form BUT ONLY if he agrees to have his angelic powers bound and is contractually sworn to silence about anything that happened during those 7 years?

This would work SO well. It would also answer a lot of questions about Al's character and actions. For example:

-Where was Al during those missing 7 years? Heaven. Likely imprisoned. -Who owns his soul? Again, heaven. Likely either Sera or an Archangel like Micheal. (I like the idea that it's Micheal, and that Mikey is Luci's twin, pouring more fuel on the fire on the immediate Al x Luci hate train.) -Why does Al state redemption is impossible as if it's a fact and not just an assumption? His deal forces him to keep redemption a secret so he is literally contract-bound to verbally disregard the idea. -Why does he still help the hotel then? Because he's pissed that heaven roped him into a deal WAY more favorable to them. Even though he can't outright state that redemption is possible, he can push Charlie's project along and hope she is the one who blows up heaven's big secret for him. It's revenge, baby! -Why does Zestial make comments about Al falling into "holy arms" when this is seemingly the first interaction between the two since Al's disappearance? Zestial suspects what happened. Maybe he witnessed Al's double-death 7 yrs ago, maybe he overheard some gossip from exorcists during an extermination, maybe something else. -Why doesn't Al use angelic weapons during his battle with Adam, especially since HE is the one who brought that knowledge to the hotel in the first place? He is overconfident because he too is actually a fallen angel, but he fails because his angelic powers are still bound. It is the pride ring after all. -Why does Al sing about "unclipping his wings" during his panic attack/loss to Adam? It's literal. He's pissed that he's been stripped of a massive boon to his power set and double-pissed that heaven seemingly has "beaten" him again. -Why does Al claim that he will be "pulling all the strings" once his wings have been unclipped? Because he is literally proof-positive redemption is possible and therefore, to his knowledge, would basically be a living weapon against heaven's authority. Remember, at this point no one is aware of Pentious' redemption.

I'm sure there's more! Anywho, my brain ran off on this tangent for some unknown reason. Al's just such a fun character to theorize about. Now, I don't believe this will actually happen in the show (it's probably a simple answer like "Lilith owns his soul, duh"), but we can dream! If any writers out there are looking for fic ideas and find my little rant interesting, PLS take this and run with it! I would LOVE to read something like this <3

[minkdelovely]

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter three “is this the life that lies ahead now?”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: drinking on an empty stomach (do not attempt in real life, but this is hell baby), allusions to poisoning, reader is hungover and has a poor appetite, uh oh art thou pining?, slow burn eventual: smut

word count: 2.8k

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

After getting some water you tried falling back asleep to no avail, tossing and turning for at least an hour before deciding to call it quits.

Leaving the hotel in the middle of the night wasn’t the best idea, but you felt like you’d start tearing at the wallpaper if you stayed in your room. Cliche as it was, fresh air had always helped you relax while you were living. You thought back to the family garden and sighed. You’d give anything to be able to sit there now.

Your thoughts drifted to your father as you changed out of your pajamas. Things had changed so much in your day-to-day after coming to the hotel that you realized you couldn’t remember the last time he had crossed your mind. You felt a tightness in your throat when you tried to remember what he looked like. It was hazy, but he was mostly there; strong with a brilliant smile. How long would it be before you couldn’t remember him at all? Even the way you heard his voice in your mind didn’t seem completely right, an imitation of a memory.

Was he doing okay? Was he still mourning you? Or did he think you were just missing? Did the money go through? Did he know what you did for him to get it? There was no way to know.

“Can’t sleep?” 

You jumped at the sound of Husker’s voice, so lost in thought and determined to get out of there that you hadn’t noticed him at the bar. It wasn’t surprising that he was still down here, though, being just before midnight. In fact, the real surprise was that he was here by himself. You decided to put leaving on pause and made your way over to him, taking advantage of the rare moment of privacy. Besides, what good would it do to dismiss Husker when he had been so discreet about this morning?

“More like slept too much,” you said, sighing as you took a seat across from him. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Husk jabbed amiably, turning to grab an empty glass. 

You groaned. “Well there goes my hope of looking better than I feel. I was thinking maybe a walk would help, but—” Husk gave you a look, rightly making you feel sheepish. 

“Didn’t go so hot this morning, huh? Thought you’d have better luck at night?” he said, half-joking, and passed you an amber-colored drink. The worry must’ve been showing on your face, as he cooly added, “Don’t worry, it’s been a ghost town in here for over an hour. It’s still only me and Angel who know about what happened.”

“Is he at work right now?” you asked, relaxing a little and took a casual look around. “I really don’t know how I can make it up to you both. This morning I…,” you sighed again and ran a hand through your hair, feeling the exhaustion seep back in. “I don’t know. Hopefully I’ll just forget about it, or convince myself it was a nightmare or something. But I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

You recalled your reflection in the mirror before you showered, unrecognizable to yourself under the layer of gore caked to your skin. 

Husk waved his hand, but the softness in his eyes felt like a rock in your stomach. “Don’t worry about it, we’ve both seen crazier shit in our time. But yeah, he’s been gone for most of the day. Said Valentino was having an ‘emergency’ but I have my doubts. He’s always pulling Angel in for dumb shit.”

You nodded and finally took a sip of your drink, shocked by how much you enjoyed it. A pleasant bitter taste lingered in your mouth, and you had to actively fight the urge to chug down the rest of it.

“Valentino’s his boss, right? Alastor’s done a pretty good job of keeping me preoccupied, but I think I’ve heard you guys talking about him before.”

“That’s the simplest thing to call him, I guess, though I prefer to call him an asshole,” Husk grumbled and you both shared a small laugh, the alcohol already making you feel lighter. 

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you, Husk refilling your glass as you rested your head in your hand, gazing through the windows to the city below. Would you be able to pinpoint the alley if you concentrated hard enough? Someone had to have stumbled on him by now, right? Like his little sidekick… Did he ever go back for Donny? Something else clicked into place as you thought of him and the events of the morning: unless someone came after you for retribution, you would get away with it. That’s just how life is here.

No missing person report, no investigation, no forensics, no trial, no jail sentence. Weren’t you already “doing time” by being here? It’s not like you could add on to it. Not that you intended to do it again, but it was a step in the right direction of making peace with yourself. Maybe you really would forget about it someday, maybe not. There were some things that stuck with you forever.

The image of your grandmother came to you then, the last time you had spoken with her. She was sitting in her favorite chair near the fireplace in the library, her face set in the ever-present scowl you resented so much. She really was such a miserable creature. You saw yourself place the tray of tea and almond shortbread cookies down on the dark-lacquered, antique coffee table between you, knowing it would the last thing she ever ate. And tried to fight the smile pulling at your lips.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“It occurred to me in the night that you still owe me something from the butcher,” Alastor said casually, his face buried in the newspaper. Irritation shot through you quick as lightning, but you prevailed against the urge to dump the coffee you were bringing him all over his lap. 

As the grandfather clock in Alastor’s room chimed the hour, the pulse in your head threatened to kill. Apparently hangovers were very real in Hell (because of course they were), and this one was a doozy. Husk had only given you three drinks, but since you had wrung yourself so dry it was  enough to leave you feeling like absolute shit. Beyond some water, the only thing you managed to ingest so far this morning was a piece of plain, burnt toast to try and soothe your aching stomach. It had taken all you had to keep it down. Needless to say, you weren’t starting the day in the best of moods.

Not that you ever thought Alastor would take it easy on you anyway. The look he gave you when you showed up in your new dress was so self-satisfied that it made you want to crawl under a rock. And when he said that you looked like death warmed over, you wanted to use said rock to knock his teeth in. It was the first you had seen of him since the incident in your room yesterday, though you tried not to dwell on the fact that he had returned at some point while you were asleep. In the grand scheme of his behavior you’ve been exposed to, that was really the least of your worries. 

Through the veil of annoyance you found yourself looking at the mug in his grasp, remembering the strength of his hand holding your chin. Your breath shallowed as he brought the rim up to his lips. Fuck. Tearing your eyes away, you did your best to swallow the lump in your throat. This couldn’t be happening.

He was just toying with you yesterday. Nothing new, you told yourself. It’s obvious to anyone with eyes how much he enjoys feeling superior. Not that you had ever seen him pull a stunt like that on anyone else, but who knows? It’s not like you were with him every second of the day. Even in this very moment, he was messing with you. 

Was it your fault that he had only grabbed his clothes off the filthy floor of that alley and left the other bag to rot? Of course he’d see it that way, and if your headache wasn’t as terrible as it was, you might have told him exactly that. Especially considering that you were already out money for the liver, and he was more than likely expecting you to pay again.

“I’ll head out after I’ve finished with your room, unless you’d prefer I go now and clean when I get back,” you answered smoothly, hoping he’d give you permission for the latter. How he had even managed to track in the dirt you saw on the area rug was a mystery. You just knew that it would keep you busy for a decent amount of time and you weren’t looking forward to more scrubbing on your hands and knees. “And if the clothes are ready to be picked up again, I can get those, too.”

Alastor peered over the newspaper, eyebrow raised, his eyes and smile alight with mischief. “My, someone’s eager to be in my good graces today! No need to bother with the laundry, but I hope you won’t mind if I join you going into town. I don’t feel like staying cooped up in the hotel. Go ahead and clean now, I’d hate for those stains on the rug to set. Besides, you know how I despise coming home to a mess.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

While he waited for you to return after freshening up, Alastor took a look around his room, admiring the results of your hard work. You were turning out to be much more resilient than he had anticipated. Though your expression was hardly ever enthusiastic, you’d never be able to tell by the way you cleaned. Someone taught you well, he thought to himself, breathing in the scent of cleaning products that nearly overpowered the floral almond you always left behind. So pleasant.

Though if he was being honest, he was starting to run out of ideas on how to keep you busy. He would mess up the bed, despite rarely sleeping in it, and leave his housecoat, shirts, and bowties draped over various pieces of furniture for you to pick up and put in their proper place. The mud and dirt on the rug had been a last-minute stroke of genius, but it wasn’t something he cared to repeat too often. God forbid he became predictable. 

There was part of his room you didn’t have access to, and Alastor doubted that he’d ever let you see it — nor anyone else, for that matter. It’s not like it was a space you’d be able to clean in a traditional sense, anyway. After the hotel was rebuilt he thought it would be a nice idea to separate his serene bayou from the rest of the living quarters. Remembering how Vaggie had so rudely barged in on him in the past, it wasn’t something he was keen on happening again. And it was comical to watch you glancing at the locked door, pondering what could be behind it. 

He knew he couldn’t keep you cooped up as his personal chambermaid forever though, unless he wanted to be hounded by Charlie and Vaggie about it. Which he decidedly did not want. And he could admit that this cleaning game was getting stale… How could he switch things up before he tired of you completely? How could he get you to show him another spectacle like yesterday?

A knock at the door snapped The Radio Demon out of his thoughts.

“Alastor? Can I come in?” Charlie said from the other side of the door. By the tone in her voice, he could tell she was here to discuss business. He sighed quietly to himself and went to the door, swinging it open with a charming smile. 

“Why of course, my dear! How may I be of service?” Alastor closed the door behind them and led her to one of the chairs by the fireplace, taking the one opposite her and crossed his legs, neatly folding his hands over one knee. “It’s just the two of us. Sylvie left to go spruce up before we head into town,” he said, noting how Charlie was glancing around the room.

“Oh, good!” she sighed, putting her hand over her chest in relief. “That’s, um, kind of what I came here to talk to you about. I know you’ve been…,” she paused, hands dancing as she searched for the right word, “…acclimating her to working here — and I don’t want to step on your toes — but I think it would be really nice if she could join in on daily activities. No one has really gotten a chance to get to know her yet, and I’d hate for her to keep missing out on opportunities to bond with everyone.”

He had jinxed himself, but at least it was only the princess he had to deal with.

What to do? It’s not like he could say that your cleaning skills needed improvement when evidence to the contrary surrounded them; the room was pristine. He could argue that it would be prudent to keep some level of permanent staff unless they wanted to be in a never-ending state of training new hires, but something told him that wouldn’t be the best approach. At least not for now. Alastor had no intention of letting any souls under his contract be taken from him, for redemption or otherwise. Still, seeing the others develop their relationships with each other had been fun to observe. How would little Sylvie fit into the dynamic?

“I suppose I’ve been a bit selfish with her, haven’t I? I’ll be sure to leave room in her schedule starting tomorrow, but I hope you’ll understand that mornings are sacrosanct,” Alastor said agreeably, straightening his coat as he stood up from the chair. “Unless there was anything else, I’ll go and tell her the good news.”

Charlie followed suit, grin wide and eyes sparkling as they made their way back to the door. “Of course! Oh, thank you Alastor, you have no idea how excited I am!” It was impossible not to. Her enthusiasm was nearly contagious. “Vaggie and I are thinking something up right now as a surprise for everyone, but the details haven’t been totally worked out yet. I’ll let you know as soon as possible though — gah! I can’t wait for tomorrow!”

Alastor merely smiled in response and they parted ways in the hall. He wasn’t thrilled to be losing his monopoly on you so soon, but knowing that he now had to be more intentional with his time was invigorating. Curious to see how you’ll react to being invited to group activities, he made his way to your room, already hard at work thinking of new ways to push your buttons.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You were surprised to see Alastor in the hall when you opened your door, since you had been instructed to return to his room when you were finished touching up. The quick jump-scare he caused sent a fresh wave of throbbing to your head and you hissed under your breath, unable to stop yourself from massaging your temple.

“You’re up to something,” you grumbled, walking past him to make your way to the elevators. 

He feigned offense, easily stepping into stride with you down the hall. “Chivalry is lost on you twenty-first-century souls! I don’t know why I bother.”

You glared at him from the corner of your eye, taking in the sardonic look on his face as you stepped into the elevator. It was best not to push your luck with him, considering you still had an entire outing in Cannibal Town to get through. You were about to say something when the elevator stopped after going down a couple floors, the doors opening to Angel Dust. He looked exhausted. 

When the two of you made eye contact, he glanced away, the air in the elevator quickly turning nervous as he walked in. Was it because of yesterday? Maybe Angel hadn’t been as comfortable with it as Husk made it seem… Suddenly he hit a button, stopping the elevator in its tracks. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, steeling himself. 

“Hey, so… you know how you came home lookin’ like fuckin’ Carrie yesterday?”

You felt Alastor’s static humming in the space between you; the first reaction he’s had since Angel came into the elevator. 

“I wanted to apologize sooner but—”

Angel waved his hands, cutting you off. “No, no, please, you don’t have to,” he said, a small laugh escaping him. “Look, uh… I’m only bringin’ it up cuz I just gotta know.” He was actively fighting a smile as he continued, “The trouble you ran into? His name wasn’t Donny, was it?”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r

[animeshotsh]

Omg I love your makima reader!!! But like what if there was Denji reader👁👁

Like reader is like easy to fall in love with everyone and all that and having Chainsaw abilities just by her heart, and doing basically what denji have done, now that denji reader is in hell what happens when the ey meet the whole characters at the hotel

I see user don’t know lucifer since reader thought hell was actually the hell they went to (let’s call it purgatory where all embodiments of fear lives) but they’re In hell where lucifer rules, what are the characters first thoughts about denji reader

Keep up the good work on ur fics!!🫶🏽🫶🏽

Take some breaks and drink some water🫶🏽🫶🏽

Thanks anon for this amazing idea! And your sweet message 💕 ~

Eh? | Various x Denji!Reader

After dying (finally do you know how much power it takes to kill the chainsaw man?) You end up waking up in a place that resembles a city. A very dirty and bloody one.

Of course you are confused, this cant be hell, hell has lots of doors and its all dark. So what is this? A demon power? A travel to another universe?

Whatever it is you dont care, seeing that you still have your powers its enough. Also, being back to having to steal to survive feels like nothing.

Turns out people here give zero shit towards any type of law violation so of course you end using your powers to attack and defend yourself.

Why are you picking up a pig and why a Demon who looks like a spider its coming towards you?

Angel its a lost of words as you give his little friend back, your body all covered in blood and the chains coming from your arms not suprising him.

More the fact that you look like a lost puppy as you ask what this place is and why he looks like a spider.

~☆~☆~☆

Angel its quick to flirt with you, getting you all flustered and confused. You think you are in love as he takes you back to the hotel.

Thats till you meet Husk who could not care less about you but now has to deal with you asking for drinks and seeing your pathetic attemp to flirt.

~☆~☆~☆

Once Charlie meets you and does break the news to you, you are lose in words...then she offers you to stay for free and have food as long as you dont cause trouble.

Its paradise to you.

~☆~☆~☆

Alastor thinks you are stupid but likes to see you do something and fail, he takes note on how the smallest things brings you joy. The first time he saw you fightning he was suprised to say the least.

~☆~☆~☆

Oh and when you meet Lucifer.

"I thought you would be scarier than Darkness demon was worse...and taller"

Lucifer its now questioning why he is so short and why you were talking to him only to end chasing off one spider.

~☆~☆~☆

You would end being a overlord without knowing you are one. The "meetings" seems more like friends gathering together. The other overlords cant take you seriously at all.

Its thanks to Rosie and Alastor that you end staying during the meetings even if you fall sleep most times.

~☆~☆~

[brucewaynehater101]

Recently my mind has been plagued with ideas about things Tim could be other than human and what would both fit him and make an interesting story. I believe I might have found something that suits him rather well.

Tim has always been a strange child, always silent and always watching. Learning everything he can about everyone he has to interact with so that he can best make sure every interaction goes in his favor. He learned his manipulation from his Mother after all. She was the very best at it so he will be the very best too. She nor his "father" have watched over him since he was very small, after all they are creatures that do not raise their own young. Her returning to see him every few months, teaching him how to hide what he is and how to defend himself, *and* making sure he has food and shelter is far, far more than most of his species could ever even dream of. Janet is their version of Best Mom In The Universe, even if she's horrifyingly neglectful by Human Standards.

As for how Jack treats Tim, he doesn't. After all, once they were married and she had everything, she didn't need him anymore. Jack died before Tim was even conceived and the current Jack is nothing more than a husk, a living puppet that his mother walks around with as a shield to keep herself safe from prying eyes and questions. Perfect for keeping her cover as Just A Human. She has taught Tim how to do this same thing using small animals from the garden (and making sure he eats them after. He's still a growing boy who needs to eat after all) si that one day he can have a few living puppets of his own.

Tim does not tell anyone he isn't human, as per his mother's instructions. After all, he shares quite a few traits with a type of creature that humans *hate* and actively go out of their way to kill. Well, most do.

As he grows and ages as Robin, he never let's anything slip, he can't afford to let them know. He knows that Bruce doesn't trust magic in Gothem (or at least, Tim thinks that's the truth) and even if he did, the others have shown a distaste for the creature that he shares so much with. Especially Alfred and Dick, the later of which he has verbally claimed to *hate*. Given, one of them was in his hair when he yelled this but it still stung quite deeply and Alfred works hard to make sure that not a single trace of them can be found anywhere in the manor, even scolding Tim once for letting so much proof of their existence pile up in the corners of his room. But Tim doesn't blame him either, Alfred's job is to keep the house clean after all.

Eventually he must come clean though and what a way it is. Bruce has been working a case with Constantine about people going missing in Gothem. Turns out, everyone who has was some kind of magical creature and the people doing it are likely poachers. The others have been informed of the case so that they can report anything they know or anyone they know who could be a target. Tim doesn't say anything, instead keeping a closer eye on those he does know. He would never, ever sell out another creature. He would rather die.

A week later, an attempted raid on the poachers goes wrong and ends up with Jason, Tim, Bruce, and Damian all captured by the poachers. Tim is the last to wake up and when he does, the poachers are discussing what kind of undead Jason is, scanning the tied up vigilante with a device that simply says again, "subject, magical. Type, undead. Futher information, unknown."

At this point Tim realizes he's the only one not tied up. He's also the only one in a cage. He tries to pretend to be asleep but the one watching him says, "look who's awake. You know, we had bets on how many of you Bats were part of the magical community. Seems like I won the bet since only you and Red Hood over there are. Don't bother trying to lie your way out, our scanner can see through your Glamor spell, no matter how powerful it is. And this?" They hold up a small remote control with about a dozen buttons on it, "this does a wonderful little thing where it makes a specific pitch at a specific volume that causes Magical Creatures to drop their Glamor Spells or Shifts. Luckily it's nothing more than mildly annoying to humans."

A button is pressed before anyone can ask questions and the remove makes a loud, buzzing sound. It's not painful for the trio who are tied up, but Tim? Tim is shaking and writhing and *screaming* with both hands pressed over his ears. He is rolling back and forth across the ground as he screams for the person to stop, just *stop*. Bruce is almost free when he freezes upon realizing something. There aren't two tear tracks on his sons face. There's a lot. A pair of eyes have opened on his cheek bones and above his eyebrows and a smaller pair between them. Tim has gotten much paler and his canines have turned long and sharp like his nails. Tim rolls onto his stomach and curls up as best he can, screaming as there is a cracking sound. A long spindly, spider like leg shoots out of his side and slams into the floor, curling up in pain like the rest of Tim's limbs.

When the device is finally turned off, Tim is laying on his side, wheezing in pain and his legs are gone. In their place is the body of a giant spider which has sharp points at the tips of its legs instead of the regular spider feet. Tim has 8 eyes and is totally limp as he tries to recover. The Poacher simply laughs, "A Jorōgumo, a real master of puppets you are. But weak without them. God, your kind is so rare, you'll fetch us the price of at least 4 normal monsters. Add in you're a famous vigilante and we could break a few million dollars off *just* you."

Tim glares weakly at them and hisses softly. He knows the numbers are true. It's the secondary reason he never told anyone. He knew he would either get squished or sold off. How he just needs to figure out how to escape from Gothem before Bruce can confront him on this. He doesn't want to explain.

Aww... was he collecting little spiders and getting upset when his family kept expressing their hatred/distaste for them? Did he have to hear them talk about how creepy their eyes are, their weird abundance of legs, and how disgusting their overall being is before he excused himself to stare in a mirror and compare the similarities?

Does he dare to meet their eyes after the reveal, or does he fear finding the look of revulsion?

Also, would he find comfort in knitting, crochet, and weaving? Is his house full of hand-made blankets?

Anyways, enjoyed what you have and would definitely read more

[five-and-dimes]

Sloom

AO3

In many ways, Dream feels inferior to the rest of his family. Which means he struggles when Hob asks to meet them.

Well this took a million years longer to finish than I expected and as usual I struggled with the ending but we gotta call it done at some point, lads, so here we are.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dream tries not to think about it too much, because it makes something in his heart ache when he does.

How he was made wrong.

He doesn't understand it- he was born the same way as his siblings, and yet somehow he is the only one… lacking. Everyone else understands humanity, everyone else understands themselves, everyone else doesn't struggle to connect, to speak, to share, to exist in a way that doesn't hurt.

Even Desire, whom he despises so much for all the games they play to torment him…

But then, Desire is only so cruel to him. Maybe that, too, is his fault.

He had thought it was enough to do his job well - to protect the dreamers and his realm and all the power it contains. He can withstand being a bad sibling, a bad friend, a bad husband, father, lover, person (he can withstand it, he can) as long as he is good at his job. He doesn't play games, he doesn't let himself get distracted, he fulfills his purpose, he is good at his job, and that is enough. It has to be.

(And then he fails at that, too.)

(He had made himself good for one thing. Now he is good for nothing.)

He walks with Death, and his elder sister lovingly twists the knife. She reminds him of all the ways he got it wrong, got all of it wrong, and he wonders if she would have bothered to come if he had called at Fawny Rig.

(He wonders if she would have come if one of their other siblings had been captured.)

(He wonders if they all aid each other when he's not looking.)

(He doesn't look.)

She tells him to visit Hob Gadling and it feels like an execution. He feels like he’s bleeding, like he’s being sentenced to a slow death, like all of his wounds are on display for anyone to dig their fingers into.

He feels like he deserves it.

And so he drags his feet, first to the hollowed out husk of the White Horse, and then following a bright line to someplace new, someplace glowing with life and possibility and when he crosses the threshold he feels like a weed. He is too dark for this place, too cold, and when he sees Hob he expects to be kicked out like a stray dog.

Hob smiles at him. Smiles, and Dream feels a little less cold.

“You’re late.”

No condemnation. No cruelty. No accusation or malice or brutality.

Dream is breathless with it.

“It seems I owe you an apology. I’ve always heard it impolite to keep one’s friends waiting.”

Somehow, Hob’s smile brightens. When Dream sits across from him, he feels, for the first time since 1916- no, since long, long before then- that he is welcome and wanted.

When he came here Dream had braced himself for punishment. Instead, they sit and talk long into the evening. Soft and hesitant, Dream gives Hob his name, and Hob glows like he’s been given the answers to the universe. Bright and enthusiastic, Hob speaks of all he has done in the past century, and Dream listens and lets himself sink comfortably into the warmth of companionship.

Eventually, Dream knows he must return to his responsibilities. It aches to think of leaving this soothing place, but he feels as though a balm has been spread on his wounds. Still hurting and aching, but less so than before.

Before he stands to depart, Hob places a hesitant hand on his wrist.

“Feel free to drop by before 2089, yeah? Anytime.”

There is a long pause while Dream considers that. Despite how kind he had been, it feels inconceivable that Hob would want to see Dream more than he has to. But he cannot deny the way his chest clenches with hope at the idea of feeling this warmth again so soon.

Perhaps it is selfish.

But Dream agrees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time it comes up is on their third meeting in as many weeks.

They are sitting together on a comfortably worn couch in Hob’s flat above the New Inn, next to each other but still with a respectable distance between them. Dream is trying very, very hard not to misstep in his friendship with Hob. And a part of that, he understands, means sharing the information Hob has asked for for so long.

It is a deeply uncomfortable experience for Dream. A part of him (the part that is still, in some way, shivering deep in the Burgess basement) cries that his secrecy is all that has protected him. That Hob, in his human greed and longing, will turn into Roderick the moment he realizes what Dream is, what he could get from him, what he could take from him.

(That same part of him, curled up the cold glass orb of his heart, cries that it’s better to just give it to him.)

And yet, in all that Dream tells him, Hob never turns cruel. He explains his function, his creation and rule over dreams and nightmares, and Hob’s eyes alight with wonder. He describes his realm, his subjects and landscapes and the Sea of Dreams, and Hob leans forward like an excited child.

And, when he stiltedly explains the nature of the Endless, Hob laughs fondly.

“You know, that actually explains so much.”

Dream tilted his head in confusion, “How do you mean?”

Hob waved his hand vaguely, leaning back in his seat, “Well, all your cute little quirks,” Dream resolutely ignores the warmth in his face from being called cute, “how formally you speak, and all the human things that seem to go over your head. Of course human social niceties aren’t natural to you, not only are you not human, you’re as old as the universe.”

Frowning, Dream looks down at his hands in his lap. He thinks, as he often does, of Death. Of her easy mingling with humans, her casual conversation, the way people smile at her. He thinks of his own shy smile and how all it does is make people walk away faster.

He doesn’t think being Endless explains anything about him, actually.

(It occurs to him, suddenly, that maybe it is not that he wishes to be unmade. He simply wishes he had been made right.)

(Or, perhaps, never made at all.)

“Hey.”

A warm hand covers his, and he looks up to find Hob leaning into his space, shooting him a small smile despite the concern in his eyes, “I’m not criticizing. It’s endearing,” he laces their fingers together, soft and gentle, “I like your quirks.”

That word again. Dream swallows, feels the words build at the base of his throat, they are flaws, they are faults, do not be fooled, do not show me mercy I do not deserve.

But before he gets a chance to explain, to warn him, Hob leans in closer, “I like you.”

The kiss is hesitant, he can taste the anxiety on Hob’s lips, the way he clutches his hand a little harder as though bracing to be pushed away. Dream does not have the strength to push him away. It takes every ounce of effort he has just to keep his tears from falling as he melts against Hob, pressing closer and drinking in Hob’s sigh of relief.

Dream stays long into the night, until Hob drifts to sleep in the circle of his arms. He never corrects Hob’s assumption on his nature, the words still stuck in his throat. Choking him.

But not enough to open his mouth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So," Hob drawled, putting his arm around Dream's shoulders in a way that was clearly trying to be casual and not succeeding even a little, "When do I get to meet your family?"

Several months have passed (several months of opportunities to tell the truth, to be honest, to crack his ribs open and show Hob everything wrong with him-) and their relationship has grown like a blooming flower. Dream feels warm with Hob, and Hob smiles easily whenever he visits.

Dream does not want it to end.

He hums in consideration, even as his entire body tenses against his will. He has told Hob about his family, though not extensively. He has told him their names, and the order of their birth, but not the intricacies of his relationships with them.

(He has not, even once, mentioned his parents. Hob hasn’t asked.)

(One of the first nightmares he ever crafted was that of a child crying for a parent who refuses to turn around.)

Beside him, Hob shifts a little uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck as he rambles, “I know it’s one of those silly human things, the whole ‘meet the fam’ part of a relationship, but well, y’know me, always curious about your life.”

Hob does that fairly frequently, explaining “human mysteries” or sometimes laughing fondly as he guides his “silly Endless” through whatever social mishap he’s found himself in. Always explaining away Dream’s stumbles with his inhumanity.

And now, he wants to meet his family, and Dream’s chest tightens at the thought of Hob expecting to meet more cold and aloof entities who don’t know where to put their hands and instead being met with Endless who are so much better.

“I… understand,” His speech is as faltering as the rest of him. “If you would like. To meet one of them. I can arrange a meeting.”

Pulling him closer against his side, Hob’s eyes brighten with excitement, even as he checks, “Are you sure?”

Dream nods, barely feeling the kiss on his cheek as he thinks of each of his siblings in relation to Hob.

Delirium and Hob would likely find each other a delight (an irony which does not escape him), both so vivid and full of life, always looking at things in new ways. They are both so bright, so colorful in their own ways. So jarring next to Dream's darkness.

(He pictures Delirium questioning why someone as nice as Hob is with her mean older brother.)

(He pictures Hob realizing he doesn't have an answer.)

He does not think he could bring himself to call Destruction, if he would even answer, but he thinks he and Hob would make fine friends- both turning away from the violence of their pasts, searching instead for ways to grow and nurture.

(Dream had to be punished into changing. Had to be tortured in order to grow.)

(He thinks he grew like a weed. Or perhaps an infection. Just because he is more does not mean he is good.)

If he's honest with himself, he thinks Hob and Desire would get along as well. Hob would probably be good for his sibling in a similar way that he was for Dream, able to understand the soft parts that Desire hides, and them able to share in the joys that life has to offer in a way Dream struggles to, so accustomed to denying his own wants.

(Desire hurt him. Desire hurt him.)

(He has been told that he is worse.)

Thinking about it, he thinks Despair would like Hob. He had the unique ability to truly appreciate despair and understand its value, and Despair had an appreciation for life that Hob could relate to.

(What does it say about him, he wonders, that Despair wants to live more than Dream does?)

Destiny would almost certainly decline any offer to meet, and Dream doesn’t know that he and Hob would be friends, per say, but…

(He imagines Destiny standing before the immortal, forgoing any small talk and telling Hob bluntly that he is destined for things far greater than his broken little brother.)

But, in the end, he knows there was always one person Dream wanted Hob to meet, even if it makes him lose him. So he steels himself and forces the words out.

"Hob, would you like to meet my elder sister, the one who gave you your immortality?"

“Death?” Hob goes a little wide eyed, “Is that- I mean, I can meet her without, y’know…” he makes a crude slashing motion across his throat.

“Of course,” Dream answers steadily, “She can be present among mortals without bestowing her gift upon them. She will not take you. Unless. You ask.”

“No, no, not planning that anytime soon,” Hob is quick to reassure, “Or ever, really,” he tacks on with a smirk and a wink.

Nodding, Dream allows himself to reach out and take Hob’s hand. He will miss this warmth. “I will speak with her, then. And arrange a meeting.”

Hob’s grin is wide and bright, and Dream can feel it as Hob presses a kiss to the sharp edge of his cheek bone, “Excellent! This will be fun, Love! I’ll pick up some of that wine that you liked enough to actually drink- or, would you rather we meet in the Dreaming?”

Dream only barely manages to suppress a cringe, but even so he bows his head, as if he could somehow hide within his own curled spine.

“I would. Prefer to let you meet on your own.”

Hob's smile falters, "What? Why?"

Because I do not want you to see us side by side. Because I do not want to make my lacking more obvious than it already will be. Because I won't survive seeing the moment your eyes turn cold. Because I'm scared.

"I merely wish you to get to know each other without my influence."

He can see so clearly in his mind’s eye, Hob glancing back and forth between the two siblings, one so charming and kind and good, and the other… lesser. Lacking. Dream does not wish to be present for that realization.

Recovering his grin, Hob laughed lightly, "Ballsy of you. Most folks I know wouldn't have the guts to leave their siblings and their partners alone together," he leans forward to play with Dream's hair teasingly, "What if we exchange secrets, eh?"

I'm a liar, I lied to you, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-

“That is within your right.”

Hob laughs, startled, and pulls Dream flush against his side, “What a fair ruler you are,” he says jokingly, “Well, I can’t wait. It’ll be endlessly fun,” he winks, trying to get a rise out of Dream.

Dream smiles back. But it’s a little weaker than usual.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dream stares at the ankh for a long time before he picks it up. A childish part of him wants to leave the gallery and feed Hob lies and excuses. Death is very busy, she could not make the time, I called and she didn’t answer, she didn’t answer, it has happened before-

But. What would that accomplish besides delaying the inevitable?

He cradles the ankh in his hands, “Death. I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil.”

“Dream!” He can hear the smile in Death’s voice, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I wish to discuss. A personal matter. Would you care to join me?”

Death steps beside him almost before he can finish speaking, "Of course! What can I do for you?"

She's so casual and easygoing, but a part of Dream can't help but search for any lingering anger or resentment from their last talk. He wonders if she's forgiven him.

(He wonders if he's worth forgiving.)

Straightening, he explains flatly, "Hob Gadling wishes to meet you," he pauses before adding, "In a nonprofessional manner."

Snorting, Death replied, "Well, I could have guessed that," she grinned, "But you're finally letting me meet your little project?"

"He has become. Far more than a project."

"I know, I'm teasing, silly," she shoved his shoulder playfully, "I'd love to meet him! Just tell me when and where and I'll make some time."

Nodding, he considers his options. He is torn between stretching out his time with Hob and simply getting it over with. In the end, he chooses what he feels is a polite and reasonable timeframe.

“One week from tomorrow, in the afternoon. At the New Inn.”

“I’ll be there,” grinning, Death linked their arms together, “I can’t wait, I bet you two are sickeningly adorable together.”

A bitter part of him thinks Death would just be sad to see someone like Hob shackled to Dream.

“I will not be present. This meeting is for you and Hob.”

Death pulls back to look at Dream’s face, frowning in confusion. For a moment she seems to consider her words, before settling on a question, “What’s going on in that head of yours, little brother?”

Dream meets her gaze and answers flatly, “Nothing of importance.”

There is exasperation in her voice as she huffs, “I hate that you really believe that.”

He loves his sister so very much. And he does not have the strength to be yelled at right now.

So he straightens his spine and keeps his voice even, “I will let Hob know of the time of your appointment,” he allows himself to soften, just slightly, “He is looking forward to meeting you.”

“I look forward to meeting him, as well.” Death knows she has been dismissed, and so she gives Dream one final squeeze on his arm before departing back to her duties, a gentle rustle of feathers echoing through the gallery.

For a long moment, Dream stands in his gallery alone, gazing at the sigils of his siblings.

He will go and tell Hob of his upcoming meeting with Dream’s sister. And if he stays longer than strictly necessary, if he presses a little closer than he usually does, he if stares too long at Hob’s face in an attempt to commit his smile to memory, Hob is nice enough not to comment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is not raining in the Dreaming.

Dream does not feel that kind of sadness. There is grief, for certain but… it is a grief he believes he has no right to feel. This is not sorrow, it is justice, a loss of something that was never his to have. He cannot cry, he cannot mourn, he can't, he can't, he just-

The Dreaming is covered in a thick layer of fog.

A white mist, so thick it feels like you could move it with your hands, wade through it, drown in it. Dream is in one of the gardens surrounding the palace, grinding his teeth and trying desperately to make it go away. He had hoped that going outside would at least help clear the fog that had permeated the palace halls. Matthew had flown into a wall twice before resigning himself to perching on Lucienne’s shoulder until the hallways were visible again, and Dream does not think he could survive if another raven was injured due to his weakness.

The week had passed too quickly for his liking, time showing him no mercy. He had visited Hob each day, an unusual occurrence that Hob had raised an eyebrow at but otherwise not commented on. And in all that time, Dream had still not told him the truth. He did not explain that the Endless he was to meet would be nothing like Dream because Dream was nothing like the other Endless, did not confess to having cheated more time with Hob by misleading him about his nature. And now, it was too late. Hob would leave, and Dream would always be a liar.

Sighing, he leans against the tree behind him, looking up and frowning as the fog hides even the leaves above him. Sometimes he wishes he had more control over his connection to the Dreaming. More control over himself. He wonders if this is how humans feel when they wish mastery over their own bodies, their organs, their blood.

The fog is getting thicker.

Growling deep in his throat, Dream presses the tips of his fingers against his temples. There is no reason for him to feel so… lost. He has existed and survived before Hob, and he will continue to do so after. Happiness is not necessary. And besides, he has wanted to be a better person, and would a better person not prioritize their loved one’s happiness over their own? It is an irrefutable fact that Hob deserves better than Dream is capable of, so it is the least Dream can do to not stand in his way.

Pulling his knees to his chest, he wraps his arms loosely around them, feeling as bare and exposed as he had in Fawney Rig, suddenly thankful for the cover of fog. Perhaps, he could allow himself this respite. A moment of selfishness, and then he would pull himself together. Just one night to grieve where no one could see him. Just one night to hide-

“There you are!”

Dream’s head snaps up, eyes wide with a shock he could not hope to conceal.

Because Hob is here.

The immortal is smiling, like he has every other time he’s seen Dream, stumbling slightly through the fog before plopping himself down to sit pressed against Dream’s side. This close, he can see the spark of concern in his eyes even as he throws an arm around his shoulders to pull him closer.

“Well this is a bit different. You know I saw Merv actually sweeping the fog? What’s crazier is it was working, swept it into a big pile and then pushed it out the front door. I know anything is possible here, but I will admit I did spend a few minutes just staring at that spectacle.”

Throughout his rambling, Dream is aware that he is staring. A quick assessment of his own body alerts him to the fact that his mouth is parted, and he is literally gaping at Hob. How unbecoming.

When he fails to respond to his story, Hob’s smile dims, and the concern in his eyes amplifies, “Hey… is everything alright?”

No. Nothing makes sense. He feels more lost than before. He thinks the fog is getting thicker, heavier, colder.

“You…” He clears his throat, trying to compose himself even a little, “You were. Supposed to meet Death today. Did. Did that. Not happen?” That is the only logical explanation.

But Hob shakes his head, “No, we did, got back a couple hours ago, just took me a bit to fall asleep,” he chuckles a bit to himself, “She’s a riot, honestly, nothing at all like all the skull and crossbones nonsense.” He gives Dream a warm smile, “I can see why you two get along so well.”

Dream is. Dream is-

He opens his mouth, and all that comes out is fog.

“Woah, okay,” Hob jumps a little, but doesn’t pull away. If anything, his grip around Dream’s shoulders tightens.

Fog is drifting from the corners of Dream’s eyes.

He can’t see. He can’t breathe. He feels so lost-

“Alright, hey, hey,” Hob pulls him closer, wrapping him in a firm embrace, “Love, I think we should go to the Waking, okay? Is that alright?”

Dream forces himself to nod against Hob’s chest. His body is no more bound in the Waking than it is in the Dreaming, but sometimes the distance makes it… easier, if only a little, to keep his shape. As opposed to here, where the edges of Dream and the Dreaming often blur together. Like now.

Hob kisses the crown of his head, and Dream can feel him pulling away, waking up, and Dream follows the pull. In the space between realms, he forces his form together, like holding a door shut, like clenching a fist. When he arrives, he is laying on top of Hob, who is splayed out on his couch. Some hysterical part of him wants to scold Hob for not settling in his bed to sleep.

As Hob fully awakens, his arms reach up to embrace Dream, and Dream can’t help but curl his hands in Hob’s shirt. Slow and gentle, Hob maneuvers them to sit up, and when he pulls back, Dream cannot look him in the eye.

“Hey…” Hob cups his face with both hands, rubbing his thumbs in gentle circles on the hinge of Dream’s jaw, and Dream realizes for the first time that he is clenching his teeth together hard enough to crack human bone. He fears what will come out if he opens his mouth.

“You’re alright, dove,” Hob whispers, still trying to coax Dream into relaxing his jaw, “Everything is alright, I’m right here, sweetheart, I’ve got you my love.”

It takes a few minutes, just Hob whispering softly and soothing his fingers over Dream’s skin, but eventually Dream musters the courage to let his teeth separate, parting his lips just slightly. He sags with relief when all that escapes him is a shaky breath.

“There you are,” Hob presses a kiss to Dream’s forehead before tucking his head beneath his chin and pulling him into a hug, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

Ever patient, he waits until Dream is breathing evenly to question him, “What’s going on, dearheart?” He rocks them back and forth as he speaks, “You’ve been off all week. I should have said something sooner, but I thought you were just nervous about me meeting your sister.”

Swallowing thickly, Dream forces himself to answer, “I was.”

Hob pulled back, brows furrowed in confusion, “Okay, but everything went fine? I told you, we got along great.”

“But…”

“Did you think we wouldn’t?”

Dream feels as lost now as he did in the Dreaming. How does he explain this to Hob? How does he explain it without drawing Hob’s attention to that which he somehow missed? He should be grateful that Hob is still here, how is he supposed to tell him this truth without making him leave?

Is he destined to make him leave no matter what?

Belatedly, he realizes he is still clutching Hob’s shirt.

He lets him go.

“I did believe. That you would enjoy each others’ company,” he explains resignedly, “And I assumed that in your meeting, I would. Lose your favor.”

Had he been looking, he would have seen Hob’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, “You thought I would like her more than you?” His voice is heavy with disbelief.

“In a sense…” He had not considered Hob finding romantic interest in Death, as Hob seems to think, “I merely thought that. In meeting her, you would realize…”

(Death never struggled with her words the way Dream, the Prince of Stories, always seemed to.)

Taking a deep breath, he tries again, “We are both Endless. And yet. She is…”

“Different?”

“Better.”

Hob sucks in a breath as though he’s been slapped, “Dream-”

“You think that all the things wrong with me are due to my nature as an Endless,” Dream interrupts, the dam broken as he spills out everything he has been holding back for months, “and I let you believe that. But the truth is, my siblings are not like me. They do not struggle with humanity as I do, nor do they share my penchant for arrogance and cruelty. Death is older than I, and yet you saw her- she is kind, and she speaks normally, and she understands-” His voice cracks, and he has to pause, closing his eyes and forcing his molecules to stay solid. To stay here.

“The problem is not that I am Endless,” he confesses in a whisper, “The problem is that I am… me.”

Dream keeps his eyes downcast, fixated on the texture of the couch in the space between them. He wonders if Hob will chastise him for his deceit or simply tell him to leave, wonders if he will demand punishment or repayment.

One hand laces their fingers together, as the other gently cups Dream’s cheek. Hob does not try to tilt Dream’s face or make him meet his eyes. He just holds him.

“I happen to like ‘you’ very much, actually.”

Hob’s voice is soft as a breath, quiet despite the devastation and sorrow painting each word. Dream closes his eyes as Hob leans forward to brush their foreheads together.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he states firmly, confidently, “You’re not perfect, I know that, the same way you know that I’m not either. But there’s nothing wrong with you.”

The conviction in his voice gives Dream just enough courage to open his eyes. Hob’s eyes are filled with tears and shining with so much love it takes Dream’s breath away. When their eyes meet, Hob gives him a sad smile and brushes his thumb along his cheekbone.

“I’m sorry. For ever making you think you needed to explain away parts of yourself,” He brings Dream’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to his trembling knuckles, “I don’t love you in spite of anything. I just love you.”

Dream wants to argue. He wants to give every example from his long, long life that he is wrong, that Dream is defective and unworthy and unlovable.

But when Hob kisses him, whispers “I love you” against his lips, he finds himself… hoping. That maybe Hob is right. That maybe this is another bet he would lose to the strength that is Hob Gadling’s love.

Later, after Hob has held him long enough that he does not feel like he may fall apart, he will give his arguments. Later he will state his case and Hob will not hesitate in debating right back, punctuating his points with soft kisses and fond smiles. And it will not fix everything right away, as much as they both wish it would. But it will feel like a start, like adding support beams to a faulty foundation, like strengthening the parts of Dream that always felt a breeze away from buckling.

But for now, Hob holds him tight and whispers against his hair, “You want to hear a secret?”

When Dream hums questioningly against his neck, he presses a kiss to his temple, “Death isn’t perfect either.”

Dream lets out a barking laugh, and then another, and another, and then he is sobbing and holding Hob like he is the only thing keeping him together because he is, and maybe this outburst is just another flaw of his.

Regardless. Hob still holds him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A month later, Hob and Dream invite Death over for drinks. Three very different people sit in hob’s living room, and they drink wine, and laugh, and Hob occasionally scolds Death when he feels Dream stiffen at some of her teasing.

Before she leaves, Death pulls Dream into a hug, patting his back even as he stands stiffly in the circle of her arms, “I was right. Sickeningly adorable, both of you.”

Dream huffs, but feels no real offense or embarrassment at her words. It is still hard to trust that this is real, sometimes. But all night he had searched Hob’s eyes, and even when Death made him laugh or understood some human reference, he still turned to look at Dream with love and joy.

As hard as it is to believe, the truth is that Hob sat with both of them, and when he grew tired he asked Death to leave.

But he asked Dream to stay.

[starryeyeddreamer21]

So I have this idea for a Hazbin Hotel au and just hear me out okay.... CO PARENTING AU

Like the hotel residents are just chilling when the doorbell rings and Charlie goes to answer it hoping that it's a demon that wants to be redeemed but no it's a little baby wrapped in a fuzzy pink blanket

Charlie freaks out, y'know as you do when there's a baby on your doorstep, and she calls the others over

Angel is the first to respond he squeals and picks up the baby Nifty climbs onto his shoulder to get a closer look

"Can we keep it?"

Husk facepalms (mostly to hide his smile because Angel looks so cute with that baby)

Vaggie is horrified and continues refusing to let Angel keep this baby

Angel just goes on a whole rant about how her parents left her there and he wasn't going to abandon her (he's really going for guilt tripping them tbh) In the middle of the rant he thrusts the baby into Vaggie's arms and she just stares down at this baby and you can see her fall in love right then and there

Charlie is watching this with heart eyes because Vaggie looks so soft right now

Sir Pentious is just like "Sssso are we keeping it?" (He's not very good with kids)

Spoiler alert: they kept her

I've been thinking about this way too much so here's what I think they'd be like as parents

Most of them in the same boat where they're good with kids but being good with kids and raising them is a whole nother story

Vaggie: is a little too strict at times and is probably the one saying you can't have too much sugar. She didn't really have a childhood so she's trying her best to give the baby the best childhood she can while also keeping her safe and probably being way too overprotective

Charlie: is spending as much time with that child as possible. She never wants her to think she's being abandoned and wants her to know that they love her more than anything. She's basically just trying to be there the way her parents weren't.

Angel: His style of parenting is very different from Vaggie's. He's not strict at all he just really wants to be liked. He's still a good parent though. He's basically trying to give her the childhood he didn't get and is definitely overprotective. He's terrified of what Valentino would do if he found out about her which he knows is irrational because she's got the most powerful family in hell but he still has nightmares about it. He will definitely bring the baby into his bed a lot of nights instead of leaving her in her crib. He talks to her a lot in Italian and sings her lullabies.

Husk: He's an amazing father. He's logical but chill enough to be a good middle ground in the middle of all the crazy. He's basically the kind of parent we all need. He's very intune with others feelings and always knows what's wrong when she's crying.

Nifty: She takes on a lot of the important stuff like changing and bathing her. She's tiny and can't actually pick the baby up but she's a surprisingly good parent anyway. She's still Nifty though so she's definitely making toys out of roach corpses and entertaining her with those puppet shows.

Sir Pentious: Okay this man has no idea what he's doing at all. He's not very good with children just because he doesn't know how to interact with them but he shows love in his own way. He's the one that makes her crib and most of her toys. He's definitely the one that teaches her math and science when she's older and they would probably invent together too.

Alastor: He wanted absolutely nothing to do with this baby. He was against bringing her into the hotel all together but eventually he warmed up to her. It starts when everyone else is asleep and he hears the baby crying. After a minute of contemplation he decides to go see what's going on. He ends up rocking her and humming his jazz music until she falls back asleep. He starts doing this every night (someone has definitely walked in on him doing this but nobody mentions it to his face). He's the kind of parent that takes a vow like "I will protect you to my dying breath" y'know some crazy shit like that

Lucifer: He's there all the time helping out. He's the kind of grandparent that would brag about his grandkids, he's showing everyone pictures of this baby it's honestly embarrassing. He's really doing his best to make up for not spending enough time with Charlie. He's also the only one who knows anything about children like they wouldn't even know how to feed this kid without him.