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lxkeee · 1 year ago

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TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART SIX

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: Depression, swearing and mentions of self h*rm.

Notes: shit is about to go down.

PART ONE | PART FIVE | PART SEVEN | NAVIGATION

“I don't understand Michael sometimes, I guess it runs in the blood.” The angel of death muttered underneath his breath, Azrael sighs, running his hand through his dark black locks, feeling the soft strands of his hair in-between his fingers. He is annoyed, annoyed at how Michael didn't leave any room for [Y/n] to say no. Sure, Michael did make a bargain that if she wins rock-paper-scissors against him, he'll change his decision but [Y/n] sucks at rock-paper-scissors so she didn't have any chance of winning in the first place. Well, he guessed that this is Michael's way of winning against [Y/n] as the man is absolute shit when it comes to Monopoly.

Azrael is confused, why does Michael want [Y/n] to see her good for nothing husband? Azrael asked him about it and the man just told him to trust him, as it is what their dear creator has told him. He is confused why Michael is really pushing [Y/n] to see his twin brother. Azrael asked the man about it and he just looked away with a sad smile. Azrael knew how much it affected Michael that his twin brother was casted out of heaven. Despite him being one of the angels who voted for him to be casted out. Azrael knew how much of a tough decision Michael made. But still,

Bullshit. Absolute bullshit.

Azrael trusts God on his decision but he doesn't know if the outcome of this will be good, Azrael has been by [Y/n]'s side ever since Lucifer was being a neglectful asshole and he heard that the fallen angel got married again when in hell. How is he going to accept that his dear friend is going to get hurt again? Azrael knows how much pain Lucifer caused [y/n], how much pain it brought to Xavier. Goodness! He saw the poor boy trying to stab his own face with his own angelic weapon, thankfully he was there to stop him.

Azrael's shoulders slumped, already feeling more stressed than usual. He is worried, so worried about [Y/n]'s mental state as he knows how fragile it is. He knows how much shit she's going through, she's constantly trying to help cleanse earth from the constantly growing evil while maintaining to be kind and to add more to her plate, she has a son to take care of and now... She's about to take care of whatever the fuck is happening on hell?

His feet quickened its pace, speed walking the long hallways of the Seven Heavenly Virtues building, trying to reach [Y/n]'s floor and office, he would've immediately checked up on her after the meeting but he had some important matters to deal with and he prays that the poor girl didn't have a mental breakdown again. Which somehow, he feels like she already did. He hopes that he's wrong though.

His heels clicked against the gold marbled white tiles, rays of sunlight passing through the curtains giving the hallway an orange glow from the setting sun.

He finally reached her office, knocking against the wooden door. No answer. He sighs rather loudly. He knocks again. No answer.

“[Y/n]? It's me, Azrael. Are you alright?” He asked softly, pressing his ear against the door to listen if she answered him. None. He became worried.

Grabbing the spare key that he has—he has a key to everyone's room and office, don't ask how and why he has them. Anyways, inserting the key to the lock, twisting it and he finally heard the satisfying click.

He quickly pushed open the door, his worried and tensed shoulders relaxing once he finally saw her, asleep on her desk. Her head on the table, her body slouched uncomfortably.

He could see the tear stains on her cheeks, golden blood from her fingers. A rather bad habit of hers, she tends to pick the skin off the side of her nails when she's stressed and sometimes causes it to bleed.

Azrael smiled softly, allowing himself inside her office. He closed and locked the door behind him before he tiptoed across the room and finally beside her.

He kneeled down beside her so he's now face-to-face to her. Azrael admired her sleeping face, he loves it when she's at peace like this. He wants her to be happy. His eyes saddened, oh how he wished to give her the happiness she deserves. But it's truly unfortunate that she doesn't love him the same way he loves her.

Always the side character, never the romantic interest.

With a sigh, he gently lifted her up from her seat. Carrying her in his arms like a bride that he'll never have the chance to call as his.

[Y/n] groans when she felt that she was lifted off from her chair, she opened one to look at the person who woke her up. She saw Azrael looking down on her with an amused smirk.

“Come on, let's get you back to your room. You need some rest.” he says softly to her and she just groaned and he chuckled. A black and gold portal opened behind them and Azrael stepped inside with [Y/n] in his arms. The portal closed after they went in.

Azrael opened the portal back to her house and back to her room, he gently laid her on the bed. Making sure she didn't lie on her hair. Tucking her in comfortably.

“I don't know what I'll do without you, Azi... I wished that I could've loved you instead. I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry.” she whispered, her voice breaking. She really wished that she fell in love with Azrael, he treated her and Xavier far better than Lucifer does but her heart remained still with Lucifer. [Y/n] I'm right here in front of you, always loving you but why do you continue to love a man that is far away from you and probably doesn't give two shits about you and your son? Please give me a chance and I'll worship you to the point it'll put my faith in God to shame.

Azrael's eyes softened, a forced smile on his face. He tucks away a strand of her hair that is falling in front of her face, tucking it behind her ear. I really wished that too, I can treat you far better than him, is what he thought but decided not to say, “Don't apologize sweetheart, you really can't force a heart to reciprocate someone's feelings, no? And I can understand that. How about you take some rest and clear your mind hmm?” he suggested softly with a small smile, wiping away the tear that runs down her cheek. [Y/n] nodded, hiccuping slightly before eventually closing her eyes.

She was fast asleep the moment she did.

Azrael smiled and sighed, turning around on his heel as he walked out of her room, closing the door behind him. Walking away from someone he's not meant to be with. He just hoped that whatever God is doing is right.

Time flew by so quickly that [Y/n] didn't even notice, she was far too busy dealing with both Heavenly and Mortal realm matters. The root of evil is constantly growing and getting even more powerful on earth and the Seven Heavenly Virtues are trying to contain it. All seven of them were exposed to such horrors and so much evil while on earth, slowly threatening to consume them or even corrupt them.

[Y/n] limped back to her office in heaven, golden blood flowing off her side. She just finished her work on earth, she was trying to cleanse a root of evil when it suddenly changed direction and changed its direction towards her in immense speed and causing it to pierce her side. She managed to cut it down but the negativity from the root seeped into her wound, causing her healing powers to slow down.

She winced as she finally slumped down into her seat, hovering her hand over her wound, a golden glow radiating from her palm. The wound slowly closed, but not fully but enough that she can bandage it up. But the healing took too much of her energy and she felt she was about to pass out.

She opened one of the drawers of her desk, pulling out a medical kit and began treating her wounds. She winced as she tried to clean it. After so much struggle, she finally cleaned her wound.

[Y/n] leaned against her chair, almost passing out when her eyes landed on to the calendar that is in her office. Her eyes widened, “Today is the extermination day?!” she shrieked and quickly stood up from her seat, she hissed as pain quickly shot from her waist all throughout her body. She gripped into the table, her nails scratching the wood.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck... I forgot about that.” she muttered, trying to stabilize herself, “I hope I can stop Adam and the exorcists..” she muttered, pain still evident in her voice. Running her hands through her hair. Gripping into her locks in frustration.

Ah crap, I hope I don't pass out. She thought as she weakly opens a portal to hell. Composing herself before finally stepping inside the portal.

The first thing she noticed is Adam spewing out shit from his mouth, the hotel she heard about now destroyed, exorcists killing sinners. Anger fills her veins, her six wings puffing behind her and along with multiple eyes opened on her wings. She's beyond pissed, the audacity these angels have to perform an act without notice from the higher ups. Without thinking she summoned her second angelic weapon, a bow and arrow. Aiming it just beside Adam—a warning shot. Successfully catching his and the other's attention.

“Adam, respectfully please shut your mouth!” She ordered, her voice booming, glaring down on the people on the ground, specifically at the first man. She's far too angry to keep her attention on the back of her husband or ex-husband. There's a limit to how much an angel of kindness and healing can take, and unfortunately for Adam, this is Angel Raphael's breaking point.

“Because if you don't, I will personally kill you myself.” She sneered, her hand clenching tightly on to her bow, her fingers itching to fire another arrow and just finish the man.

“No... You don't get to end this.” Adam growled in pain, weakly standing up from the rubble of where he crashed, “I'm fucking Adam! I'm the fucking man!” he yelled, turning to look at Lucifer in anger, “And you're just some fucking clown or something!” Adam growled and Lucifer just stared at the man with a deadpan expression, not really paying attention.

“I started everything on earth! All of mankind came from these fucking nuts!” Adam exclaimed. They just stared at the man who's clearly pissed at the fact he lost.

Suddenly, an arrow shot just beside Adam, barely missing the first man. The golden arrow embedded on to the ground. Silence, as people were filled with awestruck. Adam was filled with fear.

“Adam, respectfully please shut your mouth!” A female voice boomed, her powerful and authoritative voice echoing in to the air. Goosebumps danced across Lucifer's skin, he knows that voice. The very voice that he didn't hear for so many years, the voice that kept haunting him. The haunting and guilt worsened after Charlie told him he had a son in heaven.

They turned around and looked up at the sky to see a very furious seraphim glaring down on them—specifically on the first man, Adam.

Lucifer's eyes were glued on her, she's so close yet so far away.

He admired her angelic form, he can practically feel her authority and power from where he stood. Despite all of this, despite how absolutely terrifying she looked. Her beauty never really scared him. She looked as beautiful as the day he lost her when he fucked up.

“Because if you don't, I will personally kill you myself.” [Y/n] added, her eyes glaring down on Adam, her power and strength can be felt through the air and they can tell that she is absolutely furious.

“Oh shit.” Adam muttered underneath his breath. His boss' boss is here.

END NOTES: SURPRISE UPDATE 🤯🤯 ANYWAYS, AZRAEL STANS HOW ARE WE FEELING TONIGHT?

TAGLIST I:

@valerie-36 @blackbleedingrose @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @ok-boke @random-3455 @izzieg3987 @snoozewritezz @dreamzaremyrealityy @hcneyiced @witchbunny1210 @ghostdoodlen @aikobakugou @just-here-reading @dzhanett-blog @des-deswain5621 @cocomollo @haleypearce @onyxstarhigh06 @nirvana5874 @shaebutter-baby

#hazbin hotel #lxkeee updates #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer x reader angst #lucifer x reader #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x female reader #lucifer morningstar x you

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talia-black · 23 days ago

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Mydei x Childe!Reader

The shockingly lack of Mydei x reader so far has driven me from my writing hibernation.

Mostly SFW but there is descriptions of kissing and mentions of a night together.

The vision is if Mydei has a partner like Childe from Genshin Impact (battle-hungry, reckless, but fiercely loyal). Just think this meme.

To start, Mydei is the epitome of a grumpy cat. He never smiles, fiercely rejects any kind of affection from anyone, and heaven forbid you try to touch him. You might lost a limb or two

However, like all grumpy cats, Mydei has a human. One human who he will occasionally tolerate, and if the stars align, allow affection to be administered onto him. He still never smiles though (not where anyone could see him at least)

Now, many would think this human would be some kind of bubbly, innocent presence that gives Mydei refuge from all of the blood and violence in his life. I disagree.

Mydei’s partner lives by motto “Life is too short to not have a good time”

They were the first at the scene of any battle, first to draw blood, and last to leave the battlefield. Many of the soldiers gave them a wide berth, as often they cannot see the difference between ally and enemy when the heat of war distorts their vision.

Even outside of battle they were erratic. Bouncing from one foot to the other at all times, throwing knife after knife into the walls of the Holy City as if they were aiming for someone’s heart, and spoke of killing and conflict like a reputation dripping in enough blood to fill the River Styx was something to aspire to acquire.

The rest of the Chrysos Heirs (mainly Phainon) were shocked to see such a hyperactive and perpetually maniac person always trailing behind the stoic and reserved Mydei.

But any doubts were silenced when they saw them tear one of Nikador’s soldiers in half with their bare hands.

They were another resident of Castrum Kremnos, and while they might not be a Chrysos Heir, they bear their own unique curse. Priests had named them the “Blood-Drunk Sword” at their birth, claiming they were cursed by Nikador to suffer endless bloodlust and would never be able to find satisfaction outside of the battlefield. They could not feel physical pain, and rarely could they focus on anything other than the next fight.

Even still, they still supported Mydei’s campaign against his father. This lead to the two growing close as they were the only one of his soldiers brave enough to challenge him to a spar.

These spars would become the foundation of their relationship. Very few people in Amphoreus could keep up with Mydei, and fewer still were tolerable enough to be worth asking. But secretly Mydei relished in how fun they were fight. They were always trying new weapons, new tactics, even choosing to fight him at a disadvantage simple because they enjoyed the thrill.

While Mydei never officially gave them any kind of official title, his soldiers consider them his second-in command. Any command from them might as well have come from Mydei himself, and should be treated with the same level of respect

They were also quick to rope Mydei into competitions with Phainon, seeing who could behead the most enemies, find the best weapon on the battlefield, etc.

But unlike Phainon, Mydei got a certain thrill out of seeing them soaked in blood. Perched on top of a literal mountain of corpses with an unabashed, feral look in their eyes.

After this happens a couple of times, and Mydei’s desire overrides his sense of propriety and respect for his comrade, he kisses them the second the battle is over.

High on blood and adrenaline, he kissed them with the same force he swung his blade. And just as his partner always met him blow for blow when sparring, they were no less shy in this regard. Nails dug into fresh wounds, teeth tore into lips, and half-snarls were common when either participant had to break their connection for air. An observer might think the two warriors were trying to tear each other apart.

That observer was Phainon. He couldn’t look either of them in the eye for a month after they scared his psyche.

After that violent first kiss (and a night where both parties woke up with twice the amount of injuries as they had the night previously) their relationship settled. For the most part.

Mydei’s lap was now their personal chair. If Mydei was sitting, they were lounging on his thick thighs. Most likely being fed grapes and pomegranate juice by his hand.

Mydei also always had a hand somewhere on them. He now consider their waist and lower back his personal property. Anyone who touched them who wasn’t a healer, even by accident, would be subjected to a death glare that would make even Nikador wither away. And Titans protect anyone that would try and flirt with them. They might find their skulls repurposed as his juice chalice.

As for his partner, they find themselves surprisingly content with the arrangement. For the first time in their lives, they’ve found something that can quiet the raging urge to kill that permeated every waking moment they weren’t fighting.

Mydei’s strong hold stilled their mind, leaving unparalleled content whenever they were cuddled together in their bed or standing side-by-side on the battlefield.

Because they still did that. They had long since vowed to aid Mydei on whatever conquest he pursued, and carving through foe after foe still quenched a sweet thirst that Mydei only slackened.

Still, surely when the Flame-Chase journey came to an end and Mydei was released from his agreement with the other Chrysos Heirs, they would be able to find some kind of peace. Right?

#mydei x reader #hsr mydei #x reader #honkai star rail

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verus-veritas · 7 months ago

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Died and Gone to Heaven

Reworked caption story by RookCaps

"Welcome back to heaven, Atreus." The enormous scantily clothed man boomed. Jeremy had just awoken after he thought he had died saving a man by pushing him from the path of a bus hurtling towards him.

"Who... who are you?" Jeremy asked. His voice was not his own, it had a deep and masculine quality to it that was totally alien to him.

"Ah, amnesia - I am Kyrion, King of The Gods. Don't worry my son, it is normal to have temporary memory loss after living as a mortal for so long."

Son? Mortal? Is this man a god? Who is this Atreus person? Jeremy thought as he looked down for the first time, seeing the absolutely perfect adonis body below him covered only by a simple fabric that would not be considered appropriate by even the most risqué individual. Oh my god! I must be this Atreus. The hospital must have me on some crazy drugs for me to be tripping like this.

"Oh my son, my prince, I can see you are distraught. Here, I will bring you to your quarters to recover." The huge man grabbed hold of Jeremy, lifting him effortlessly. Jeremy felt like a child being cradled in Kyrion's arms.

The God King left Jeremy in a room nearby. Overwhelmed, he lay down to sleep, trying to avoid thinking about the odd yet incredible sensations coming from his god-like body. As Jeremy drifted off to sleep, he hoped he would reawaken free from this crazy fever dream.

— This must be real then. I've tried to find a more sensible explanation but all evidence points to the crazy fact that I am now in possession of this heavenly body. Jeremy had awoken to find himself still in the prince of gods, Atreus's body. He ran his hands all over those perfectly sculpted muscles, every touch leaving his new body feeling invigorated and powerful. As he grabbed his thickened and hardened manhood and thrust into it, he let out a powerful roar while golden semen coated his entire chest. After some more incredibly pleasurable self exploration of his new body he had turned to trying to find out what had happened.

He looked around his bare room for information but could not find any information at all. It was only when he walked to look in the mirror that he realized that it wasn't merely a mirror at all. It seemed to be a magical artefact of some kind, displaying whatever information he wished to see. It was there that he had learned more about this new domain. He found that Gods and Goddesses were in fact real. They had created humanity as an experiment and entertained themselves by interfering with the mortals as they saw fit. All human religion was based on one or many of the Deity's that existed in this heaven. Recently, the last couple thousand years, Kyrion had restricted Gods and Goddesses from interfering with humans directly - only he was allowed to do so and he chose to do so rarely. Punishment for Gods consisted of banishing them to live as mortals temporarily, usually for one to fifteen lifetimes. There were only 138 Gods and Goddesses, reproduction is strictly controlled by the God King.

After the brief history lesson on what seemed to be the origin of all religion Jeremy knew of, he turned to trying to figure out how he even ended up here. He found he was in the body of Prince Atreus, son of God King Kyrion. Atreus would inherit the throne if Kyrion was to die. No God had died since Kyrion had taken control, as only a Godkiller weapon could end a God's life and the new regulations put in place had prevented such weapons from being created.

Jeremy wondered if this magic mirror artefact could recall the accident that had led to this whole situation, when he had pushed that man out of the way of the bus. The mirror immediately responded to his thoughts, displaying the street he had been on that day. Just before the bus barrelled towards the oblivious hunk, who appeared to be a more human version of his current body, time slowed down.

He saw a gold glowing beam extending vertically above the scene of the impending accident, the handsome man had a silvery ethereal trail extending from his body - slowly being pulled up by the golden light. Jeremy saw himself shove the man out of the way, splatting into a bloody mess on the pavement. The man's silvery soul floated back into his muscular body while a similar, albeit much dimmer, blue ethereal mist left Jeremy’s broken body. His own soul was vacuumed up where Atreus's had meant to go.

Jeremy sat down, realizing the gravity of the situation. Should he tell Kyrion that he was not the son he appeared to be? Should he just keep quiet? He wasn't sure how the Gods would react if they knew a mortal was now in possession of one of their immortal bodies.

Distraught, he sat down in the chair beside him. He felt an odd solid object press against his beefy leg. Pulling at the cushion, he found a small glowing dagger hidden beneath the folds. Gripping it he felt an awesome power flowing through it. What does this mean?

Jeremy noticed a blinking emerald crystal in the hilt of the dagger. He rubbed his rugged finger across the gem, a strange gold light emanated from the crystal, producing an ethereal message in the air:

Mortal,

I was able to place your soul in the Prince's body without the detection of the

immortals. Not even your new father, the tyrannical Tyrion, has realized my deception. For one thousand years I have plotted his demise so I can take control as I deserved. He is the bastard son of Khronus, not me! I have one simple task for you, mortal. If you succeed, I will leave you in Atreus's body to rule by my side as my personal guard. You will no longer be a mere mortal, but a god. My task is simple, use the dagger I have left for you and plunge it into Kyrion's heart. I have scheduled a meeting with him this evening. You will join the meeting and murder him while he is distracted. He will never suspect his dim-witted son to betray him. Do this, and you will be rewarded.

Mishara, God of Deception

Jeremy didn't know what to do. The offer was enticing, he could be a god!. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to give up his integrity to be immortal, and he definitely didn't want to be this power-hungry Mishara's personal plaything.

He had only been among the gods for a day and he was already involved in their murderous and aristocratic politics. How could these super beings be so primitive? I guess we are created in their image, but we seemed to have evolved past this archaic style of government, Jeremy thought.

Hours later, Jeremy accompanied God King Kyrion to meet Mishara. Jeremy observed the two arguing about the state of human-god affairs. He could tell that this debate had been had before.

When the debate became more heated, Kyrion arose to his massive height to look down upon the God of Deception. His back was turned to Jeremy, so this was his opportunity to kill the king and keep this god-like body for himself.

He removed the dagger that had been hidden underneath the fabrics and raised it above his head.

Jeremy hesitated for a moment, thinking about what he intended to do, then stepped past Kyrion and plunged the God Killer dagger into Mishara's chest. Mishara's face twisted in shock, shouting, "You traitorous mortal!" The god fell to the ground, life leaving him as golden blood flowed from his chest.

"What have you done, Atreus? What mortal was Mishara talking about?" Kyrion asked with an edge to his voice, he did not know why his dim-witted son had done what he had done. Not trusting himself to speak, Jeremy poked the dagger's emerald; Mishara's message reappeared for Kyrion to read.

"So you are not my son, you are a human? I am surprised a mere human did not give in to their greed to steal an immortal body. You are more just than many gods, as evidenced by Mishara's betrayal. You deserve a reward." The God King rubbed his chin. "You will take my son's place as prince, heir to the throne."

"What! But what about your son? He will die a mortal?" Jeremy asked, as he questioned if immortality really was worth the freedom.

"Was being a mortal so bad that a god should not live as one? Atreus was not suited for the throne, he was as dim and stubborn as he was handsome and strong; he is better suited to be a mortal man. He had voluntarily become mortal as a vacation from the pressure of his position. He abandoned his duty as prince; no, you are humble and just, more fit for the throne than he ever could be."

Jeremy knew he could not argue with the God King, he had to accept what he had been given. He was now Atreus, God and Prince, heir to the throne of gods and goddesses. It would not take long before he came to love the glory of his immaculate body of a literal god. His to enjoy for the foreseeable eternity.

Hey everyone! Hope you've all been well! As for myself I've been feeling better health-wise, and I'm finally getting more time for writing again! I can assure you that the writing itch never left my body, as I've made a list of stories I'm planning on finishing in the foreseeable future! Stay tuned, guys! /Verus

#bodyswap #hunk #identity theft #magic

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crudely-drawn-ben · 10 months ago

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Introducing Trilogy

Yesterday I released Trilogy, a new tabletop RPG crafted to support you in having grand adventures in worlds of your own making.

There are several reasons I started writing Trilogy, but the biggest one is that I ran a Dungeon World podcast called Crudely Drawn Swords for seven years and that was a lot of time to think about what we were playing. To a degree Trilogy is the game I wish that we could have had to run the podcast.

Starting from the question "what would a purely PbtA game for epic fantasy look like?" I started thinking more widely - what do I want from a fantasy game? And the truth is that I want a game that supports the structure of characters and their interactions but doesn't tie itself to a specific setting.

Trilogy begins with The Appendices - conventionally in epic fantasy these are at the end and document information about the wider world that might not have made it into the story, but here it is where you sit down as a group and decide what tone you want your game to have, and your world looks like. What kind of place is it? What magic is there? What is religion like? What are the major cultures where the story begins? How would it feel to be in this world? Trilogy doesn't tell you any of these things, it gives you the tools to think through how you want your world to look.

This creates a secondary challenge - without knowing what the world looks like, how could I design character classes for this type of game? Trilogy answers this by going back to the fundamentals - instead of a conventional character class, the playbooks in Trilogy represent a narrative arc. Some of them, like The Fighter, The Priest, or The Magus, look like familiar classes. Others, such as The Volunteer, The Mentor, The Weapon, or The Defeated, are a little different. Character arcs have a set of turning points, story beats that allow you to advance along your arc after you have collected a certain amount of experience. Some are positive and others negative, you choose which ones you want to hit and when, but every character's story has its highs and lows and to get the most from the game you need to lean into both. A character can pass through three arcs as they grow and change, like the three volumes of a trilogy.

The aim of the game is to create a slower but satisfying sense of progression - instead of hit points characters take Stress and Harm like in other Powered by the Apocalypse games that can have both mechanical and narrative effects. That makes combat feel dangerous, but the game also offers more ways to solve problems without getting into combat - I have played games where the player characters never got into a fight, instead resolving confrontations through an ingenious selection of alternative strategies including "lying" and "vomiting magic ink all over the floor." I'm genuinely enthusiastic about this game - I think I would be as excited about it if somebody else had written it. It leans hard into the joy of discovery and the excitement of adventure - you can play it as spooky and whimsical or gritty and hard-edged and anywhere in between.

Because I was writing it I even got to make most of the examples of play roll out as the story of someone's game, something I always appreciate when I read it. It also contains every technique I use as a GM in the hope that even before people get the chance to play it (heaven forbid any TTRPG afficionado have books we haven't got around to playing yet!) people who read it will still be able to use that advice in their other games. So that's Trilogy, the game I've been working on for the last few years. I think it's pretty great and I hope you will too:

Obviously it's a full-priced game and that's a big gamble from an unfamiliar creator - if you want an idea of what it's like in practice we've got the CDS team back together and we're starting a streamed campaign so you have a chance to see it in action. You can find that over on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NxpXacko9Nc

The first episode includes me notably failing to use OBS at both the beginning and end, and I can't make any promises things will improve in that regard, but it should be a good opportunity to see how the game shapes up from this start and with this crew I know it's going to be funny and take some wild swings. If you're interested in reviewing Trilogy or you really want to give it a try but you can't afford it, drop me a message

#ttrpgs #indie ttrpg #pbta #epic fantasy #fantasy

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yoonia · 2 years ago

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the bedroom hymns ● chapter list

⟶ Title | The Bedroom Hymns: a Bluebeard’s twist ⟶ Summary | A threat against your father’s empire has forced him to send you away from the only place you have known to be your home, from the heaven-like prison which you have always dreamed about escaping, only to find yourself in a new kind of confinement. Haunted by the questions about your father’s past and the dark tales that seem to follow him, the thousand mysterious doors and the secrets waiting for you to reveal, and the mysterious Prince that has been following your shadows between realms, you are off to a new adventure in the Land Far Far Away.

⟶ Pairings | Min Yoongi x female reader ⟶ Genre | Fairy Prince!Yoongi, Princess!reader, Fantasy au, Fairy Tale retelling au, Faerie au, Angst, Mystery, Smut ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; this story contains classism, threats of assassination, curses, dark magic, rumours about serial killers, mentions of abductions, mentions of arranged marriages, betrayal, manipulation, depiction of war, fantasy typical violence, mentions of blood and wounds, minor descriptions/depictions of injuries, fantasy weapons (swords, etc), mentions/depictions of death, mentions/depictions of domestic abuse, alcohol use, mentions/depictions of plagues/illness — also includes mature and explicit sexual scenes (...more details will be added as I continue writing this piece...) ⟶ Status / Current word count / Total word count | ONGOING; latest update: chapter xxiii. serendipity-3 (Sept 9th, 2024) - 192,000 words of n/a words ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Music Playlist | Ko-fi

𝕺𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖚𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝖆 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊, 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖔𝖋 𝕱𝖆𝖗 𝕱𝖆𝖗 𝕬𝖜𝖆𝖞…

⏤ Written by @yoonia for the Once Upon A Fantasy collab; with @jamaisjoons, @yeoldontknow, @inkedtae, @opaljm, @kookdiaries, @kth1fics

⏤ Crossposted on: AO3, Wattpad

⟶ Chapters

⇢ prologue. the bluebeard’s tale

⇢ chapter i. when the stars are aligned

⇢ chapter ii. the wicked king

⇢ chapter iii. dreamers

⇢ chapter iv. in bloom

⇢ chapter v. homecoming

⇢ chapter vi. the castle by the sea

⇢ chapter vii. the secret doors

⇢ chapter viii. chasing shadows

⇢ chapter ix. secrets

⇢ chapter x. wanderers-1

⇢ chapter xi. wanderers-2

⇢ chapter xii. alias

⇢ chapter xiii. red strings-1

⇢ chapter xiv. red strings-2

⇢ chapter xv. crescendo

⇢ chapter xvi. respite

⇢ chapter xvii. divulgence

⇢ chapter xviii. the fairy prince

⇢ chapter xix. visions

⇢ chapter xx. traces

⇢ chapter xxi. serendipity-1

⇢ chapter xxii. serendipity-2

⇢ chapter xxiii. serendipity-3

⇢ chapter xxiv. serendipity-4

⇢ chapter xxv. masquerade

⇢ chapter xxvi. the golden door

⇢ chapter xxvii. the king’s secrets

⇢ (...more chapters coming soon...)

⟶ References, Feedback, & DIscourse

⇢ visual references ⇢ story feedback & theories

⟶ Patreon specials

⇢ visual moodboard

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archivedblog16 · 2 months ago

Note

There's nothing wrong when a character fucks up and either gets rightfully called out on or knocked down a peg in order for them to learn a lesson.

But in the case of Blitz and Alastor, there gets to a point where all this dogpiling feels more mean spirited than something that's actually deserved.

The whole Stoliz situation wants us to think they're BOTH in the wrong who can't communicate properly due to their issues, but the narrative puts ALL the blame on Blitz for hurting the stupid owl's feelings and dogpiles him in the form of his exes hosting a hate party and being reminded of his trauma for the millionth time.

And then there's Alastor. Even as a fan of him, I'll admit it was stupid of him to think he can go head to head with the head of the exterminations WITHOUT an angelic weapon mind you... but regarding the leaks, it's getting onto him about that but in the WORST WAY POSSIBLE!

It's not treated as a wake up call for him to kick down his ego a notch, it's not treated as him getting his just desserts and open a possibility for him to get some character development. It's treated more as a way to bully him and make him look more pathetic than he already kind of was. And watching a character I love being treated this way is NOT FUN!

But back to the topic.

Point I'm trying to make is the characters that gets shit on for stuff they do gets to a point where it feels like character bashing than something actually deserved, while those that DO deserve it only get a slap on the wrist. (IE Stolas and Lucifer)

Consequences are very important in a story, without it the character wouldn’t learn to grow. So when a character, who is a piece of shit gets knocked down a peg it is satisfying because they had a long time coming. I’m purposely going to ignore Alastor for the time being because I know I will mention him and (REDACTED). I am just playing the waiting game because Vivziepop can change a situation at the snap of her fingers.

But the way Vivziepop handle Blitzø is very draining and not in the good way. The writers love using any chance to remind the audience multiple times that Blitzø hates himself, everyone around him is better without, circus incident™️. And it’s like “can we move on, I get it.”

Then there’s the Stoliz situation where Vivziepop on Twitter likes to allude that they are both the problem but in reality like you mentioned one person (Blitzø) is getting dogpiled and blamed for dumb reasons. And you can’t help but root for him. Stolas, however, does get knocked down a peg but shown in a sympathetic light, very unserious from Satan’s side, gets coddled and taken by Blitzø.

As much I like Lucifer, dude gets away Scott free. Immediately, the exposition in episode 1, Lucifer is treated as sad misunderstood bad boy who has big dreams and aspirations. Like bohoo I don’t care 😂 Actions have consequences, that’s what you get for dooming humanity. Then episode 5 rolls around and he’s depressed (I really hope they address this instead of it being plastered on Hot Topic duck merch) yada yada. In the playbill, Lucifer is all like family is important, I miss my wife, blah blah. But dude doesn’t try to visit Charlie or hang out with her when she is an adult. The closest thing he does is call her randomly or for dumb requests which is the bare minimum. 💀

Lilith also doesn’t have any excuses, she’s a hottie but I’m calling her out. I don’t care what kind of WW2 plan she has for Heaven and Hell. Go visit your daughter it’s been 7 years, she’s making Lucifer look like a saint. And the Vivziepop somehow be making the moms look cartoonishly evil. Charlie and Lucifer’s situation was chalked up to a dumb misunderstanding or miscommunication between the two.

When there could’ve been an interesting predicament where Charlie calls Lucifer out for being a negligent father, ruler, and asked why he allowed the killings for the extermination or his opinion about it or the part in episode 1, that Charlie and other hellborns are alive because of Lucifer. All that stuff was brush aside and “resolved” so Lucifer could piss off in order for Charlie to get up to Heaven since he is a plot device.

But yeah, I agree Lucifer and Stolas do get a slap on the wrist while Blitzø gets KYS merch and repeated trauma dumped onto him for the 5th time.

#vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #helluva boss critical #helluva boss criticism #thelogantor101

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doe-eyed-fool · 8 months ago

Text

Fear Of The Known

Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader

|Chapter Nine|

Y/n stared for a second before she finally spoke. Her voice soft, careful, as she breathed his name. "Lucifer?" The king froze, his eyes returning to their normal color, horns retracted into his head, and his wings folding away. "Y/n? Is that you?"

A small smile found it's way onto Y/n's face, tears forming in her eyes. "Mhm." She nods. "It's...It's been a while hasn't it?"

"Yeah. It has..." Lucifer mutters. "Wait. What are you doing here?" He asks hesitantly. "It's a long story." Said Y/n with a sigh. "I've got time, trust me." Lucifer says before turning his back to her. "Come with me." Y/n hurries after him as he walks.

The two walk in silence, as the walked they passed by a room with the door slightly open. Y/n took a quick glance inside, and noticed piles upon piles of...rubber ducks?

Y/n furrows her brows in confusion, but keeps quiet as the continue on.

They reached a room that looked to be an office. Lucifer allowed inside before shutting the door. Y/n stood awkwardly as Lucifer approached her. He's hardly changed physically. Still the same height as he was back then, the same rosy cheeks, and flawless blonde hair.

But his eyes had lost the innocence he once had long ago, she could see it. Innocence wasn't the only thing his eyes lacked, there was no emotion to them. They didn't shine as brightly as they once had.

There was no joy. No spark. No life.

"So. What's brought you down to the pits of Hell?" Lucifer asks leaning against the desk in front of you. "Don't tell me they kicked you out too..." There was a bit of hesitancy in his voice as he asked that.

Y/n shook her head. "No, nothing like that. I'm here to work out some sort of agreement."

Lucifer narrows his eyes. "An agreement? So you were sent here on business?" Y/n didn't miss the way his shoulder slumped in defeat.

"Uh, actually...no one knows I'm here exactly." Y/n laughs weakly. "I kinda just...left? B-But I'm going back, I kinda have to."

Lucifer hummed. "Alright…Now what exactly did you want worked out?"

"The exterminations, you...you allowed it to happen?" Asked Y/n. She knows the answer, but dreaded hearing it from him.

"Yes? I assume you want them called off? That's going to be a little tricky but I-"

"There's no point in doing that now." Said Y/n. "Heaven knows, and apparently they've decided it's useful for preventing an uprising." She crosses her arms. Lucifer looked a bit shocked. "Oh. Ok..."

"I understand that Carmilla Carmine provides weaponry of all kinds. Even angelic, it seems..." Y/n starts. "In the future, Heaven will learn of this and they will take drastic measures to make sure that comes to a swift end. After the battle tomorrow, Adam's second in command will return to Heaven and report his death, that's how they will find out about the weapons used against the exorcists."

"Adam dies? Huh, alright. Well, what then? Is Heaven going to send more exorcists, maybe with better means to defend themselves?" Asks Lucifer.

"That would be the better outcome, however, that's not what will happen. Carmilla will be the first to face Heaven's wrath, she will be killed, resulting in uproar among the Overlords of Hell. It will eventually lead to war. So, in order to prevent this outcome, I ask that after tomorrow's battle to advise Carmilla to stop all production of angelic weapons."

"Ooh, yeah, that's not going to be as easy as you might think." Said Lucifer with sigh. "What do you mean?" Y/n asks.

"The Overlords are not as...compliant as the other beings of Hell. I may be the king, but that hardly means shit to any of them. Sure, I can use the ol' royal voice and threaten to kill them if they don't obey but...That doesn't exactly mean they will."

"So...You have no control over them?" Y/n raises an eyebrow. Lucifer shrugs. "I did once. Many years go I could have been described as a ruthless king who ruled with an iron fist." His eyes fell to the ground. "But that was all before..." He trailed off.

Y/n spoke carefully as she filled in the gap of silence. "Before Lilith left?"

Lucifer nods. "I...kinda lost my touch after that I guess." He laughs weakly. "She was my everything and now...now she's gone. Then, Charlie left me too after a while. And it's just been me. For a very very long time..."

Y/n wanted to reach out and hug him, but she felt it wasn't appropriate. Nor did she have the right.

"Sorry about that." Lucifer mutters, then clears his throat. "Is there any other way to prevent that war?" Y/n pauses to think. "I...I can try to talk with Adam and convince him to call off this extermination. But it will be...difficult."

"I assume he's still a dick?" Lucifer raises an eyebrow. Y/n failed to hold back a small bit of laughter as she nods. "He's something alright."

"Mhm." Lucifer rolls his eyes. Y/n's smile dropped. "Lucifer. I'd be lying if I said I was only here to tell you all of that. Really, a part of me wanted to see you again. So I could apologize."

Lucifer shifts awkwardly. "You really don't have to do that."

"No, Lucifer I do. I said awful things to you that day. I wanted to protect you, I didn't want you to be hurt, and you were hurt anyway. In more ways than one. And for that I am sorry, I'm just so endlessly sorry." Y/n's voice cracked. "I knew what would happen to you, that you would fall, and I was so terrified of it happening. So terrified, I couldn't bring myself to say goodbye to you before..."

"Y/n, really you don't have to apologize." Said Lucifer. "You were right anyway, they didn't listen to me. Besides, it was my own fault for getting thrown out of Heaven. I should have known better...there was no way it would have worked, I see that now."

"No, Lucifer, your dreams would have come true if they had just given you a chance. I know they would have. You have a wonderful and brilliant mind Lucifer. And nothing can can take that away from you, not even those upstairs." Said Y/n.

Lucifer smiles weakly. "That's nice of you to say Y/n but...I lost my will to dream long ago..."

"Lucifer-"

"Let's not focus on that right now. You're here, and I'm glad for it. It really is nice to see you again after all these years." Lucifer tells her. Y/n sighs. "I can't stay. They'll wonder where I've gone off to if I don't go back soon."

"Do you have to go right now? You just got here didn't you?" Lucifer walks closer to her and takes her hand. "Can't you stay a bit longer? We've got ten thousand years to catch each other up on, after all."

Y/n couldn't help but grin. "Fine. Only for a little bit."

The two had taken up more time than they meant to. Y/n didn’t even realize how much time had passed since she decided to stay. She was so caught up in conversation with Lucifer, and just enjoying his company.

She was not mistaken by what she saw earlier. That room she passed was indeed full of many hundreds of rubber ducks. All that Lucifer had crafted by hand. He took her to that room, and showed off his best ones.

One in particular that Y/n enjoyed the most, was the rubber duck that looked like a cross breed of her favorite animal. She couldn’t hide her fondness of the small duck.

Lucifer took notice and gifted it to her.

“Are you sure?” Asked Y/n carefully holding the duck in her hands, as if it would turn to dust if she held it too hard. Lucifer smiles and waved his hand. “Go on, take it. I’ve got thousands of these damn things.” He chuckles. “What’s one less?”

Y/n smiles softly as she looks at the duck. “I see your creativity hasn’t changed. It’s so wonderful, all of them.”

Lucifer rubs his neck awkwardly. “Eh, I mean. It’s just ducks. There not that special.”

Y/n gives him a look. “And yet you’ve made so many.” Lucifer looks away from her, a bit of heat coming to his face. “Yeah well…I have a lot of free time.”

“Lucifer. It’s ok to like things. There’s no need to be embarrassed by it.” Y/n coots to sits closer to him. “You like ducks?”

Lucifer nods. “Since I was a kid.”

“And I never knew?” Y/n tilts her head. “Did you just not talk about it much?”

“Something like that.” Lucifer shrugs. “I was tired getting teased because of it. You couldn’t get me to shut up about it. So yeah, kinda just kept it to myself. Have been until Lilith left. I uh…kinda just found comfort in them.”

Y/n puts a hand on his. “They are wonderful creatures. What does this one do?” Y/n points to a duck on the table next to them.

“Hm? Oh that one? It does backflips…And breathes fire.”

“Breathes fire!?” Y/n gives him a bewildered and curious look. “You got it to breath fire? That’s amazing!”

“Naaaah, it’s not my best work.” Lucifer shrugs. “Not your best…you just said it breathes fire like that’s nothing! You made a flame throwing, back flipping duck!” Y/n exclaims.

Lucifer laughs. “Seriously. I can do better than that.”

“Lucifer you really shouldn’t doubt yourself.” Y/n looks down at the duck she still held. “You can do wonderful things. You always have…I wish I could have seen more from you.”

Lucifer fell silent, Y/n yawned slightly, then sighed. “I guess I should get going. It’s getting pretty late.”

“It is. Why don’t you just stay here for the night?” Asked Lucifer. Y/n smiled at the offer. “I can’t, but, thank you.” She stands and pockets the duck before stretching her arms above her head. Y/n turns to face Lucifer. “It was wonderful seeing you again Lucifer.”

Lucifer smiled warmly. “Same to you. I…Well, to be honest, I thought I’d never see you again.” His smile fell slightly. “I assume this is goodbye then?”

The pained look in Lucifer’s eyes made Y/n’s heart ache. She didn’t want to leave him, but she belonged in Heaven. But…she only just now got him back. She didn’t want to leave him again so soon…

“I…I can try and visit every now and then, I suppose.”

“R-Really?” Lucifer asks. Y/n nods. “Why not? I’ve already broken a ton of rules just by being here.” She says with a laugh. She turns and moves her hands outward and creates to portal back home.

Before she stepped in, she looked at Lucifer one last time. Lucifer waved at her, she waved back, then stepped through.

Y/n woke up early that morning, the first thing she did was seek out Adam. She found him at the very edge of the heavenly gates, there he stood among his army of angels. It seems he had just finished giving them a pep talk and was about to open the Heaven portal.

“Adam!” Y/n calls from the sky. Adam looks up at her. “Heeeey hotness! Come to see the action in person?” Y/n rolled her eyes before landing and approached him. “Adam, you need to call off this attack. It won’t end in your favor, I assure you.”

Adam groaned. “Lute you wanna deal with this? She’s totally killing my vibe.”

Lute glares at Y/n. “Gladly.” She started to approach her.

“Adam, I’m serious.” Y/n tries. “You won’t win this battle! You’ll die!” Lute stopped in her tracks and furrows her brows. “What did you say?” She snapped.

“Adam. If you go down there, you will not return. Please. Just call it off.” Y/n pleads.

“Look. I get it, you’re worried about me. Don’t want me to die and all that shit. I get it babe. I am the original dick, there’s not another guy quite like me.” Adam smirks. “But here’s the thing. I’m gonna go down there and fuck those freaks up. They’re not gonna get the chance to kill me, much less scratch me.”

“Adam-”

“So thanks for the advice, but also. Didn’t ask, don’t need it.” Adam opens the portal, and his angels take flight. “Ataaaaaaack!” He sings.

Y/n watched as the angels flew through the portal, followed by Adam. Lute glanced at Y/n silently before hurrying after.

Y/n groaned. “Idiot.” She quickly flew through the portal before it closed. Looks like she’ll have to figure something else out.

Y/n stopped as she saw a giant shield grow and cover the hotel before her. Looking ahead, she saw Adam, just outside of it. She hurried to catch him before he could find a way through.

“Adam, this is your last chance!” Y/n said sternly. “Call of this attack now before it’s too late!”

Before Adam could argue, Lute got in her face, her voice laced with venom as she spoke. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you want this attack called off because you actually care about those filthy demons.”

“I care about the safety of Heaven!” Y/n says defensively. Lute scoffed. “Heaven’s stayed safe because of these exterminations. You’re the only person who seems to have a problem with it. Aside from that foolish Seraphim, Emily.” She continues. “Stay out of our way, or you’ll be at the end of my blade next.”

“Couldn’t have said it better danger tits!” Adam reels back his fist and delivers a harsh blow to the shield, shattering it upon impact. The two fly down to continue their bloodshed.

Y/n watched on, furious. But her anger was overshadowed by the feeling of dread that clouded her mind.

This would only be the beginning of the bloodshed.

Tags-

@bloody-delusion-expert

@simbalioness

@annybah

@alientee

@yourmom132

#hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar

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wandering-winchesters · 2 years ago

Text

Do It.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3,408

Summary: The reader is taken captive and has given up hope of being rescued or escaping. Yet when Dean does appear, his life is the one at stake.

Trigger Warnings: SPN level violence, swearing, mention of weapons, injuries.

Requested: No

A/N: This has been floating around inside my brain for awhile and I finally managed to find the time to write it down. I apologize for the lack of posts, I am in the process of buying a house and it has been an emotional rollercoaster. As always, please let me know what you think. xx

Masterlist

It was not often that I would accept defeat, I was too stubborn for that. I have lived my life by the philosophy that there is always another option, a way out, some way to make the outcome different than what I feared. It had gotten me pretty far, I had managed to get out of some pretty sticky situations. It was a natural occurrence when spending time with the Winchester boys, hellish situations seemed to follow them wherever they go. They made friends easily, but enemies even easier.

That is how I wound up here, bound to a wooden chair. Zip ties digging into my ankles and wrists, my body aching with every breath that I take. I can feel the bruises forming on my skin every second that I am forced to sit on this god forsaken excuse for a chair. My jaw aches, forced apart by the t-shirt that had been stuffed into my mouth to keep me quiet. The only sound in the room besides my own labored breathing was the clock ticking away on the wall. Each twitch of the second hand mocking me louder than the one before. It had been hours, I had been here for hours.

From the moment I had managed to open my eyes, I had been fighting against the restraints. Panic had been held at bay until I realized that the knife that I kept hidden in my clothing, for times such as these, was no longer there. A curse would have left my lips, if it could. Internal curses had sufficed, my brain a constant swirl of colorful curse words and a means to escape. The only thought that kept me going was the Winchesters. They would be looking for me, Dean would search heaven and earth to find me. Unless, he wasn’t able to look because something had happened to him.

No, stop that. Dean is looking for you. Sam is looking for you. Hell, Bobby is probably out looking for you. Breathe.

I force myself to reset my breathing, taking a sharp inhale through my nose. I stretch my neck in either direction as far as I can, closing my eyes and allowing a rush of oxygen to flow over me.

Think. C’mon Y/N, Think!

My eyes snap open and once again I survey the room, looking for something, anything, that I can use to my advantage to get myself out of this goddamn chair. Nothing. There is nothing within reach and the chair is bolted to the floor.

What kind of person bolts a chair to the floor?

Fear once again begins to creep in, a shroud of darkness impeding my thoughts. My breath catches in my throat as my heart rate increases ten fold. There is nothing I can do to stop it, I am truly stuck. All at once my thoughts come crashing down on me. I am stuck sitting here until Sam and Dean find me or until Gordon comes back. That thought is a punch to the gut, Gordon. He knew what he was doing by taking me, he knew that Dean would come searching and in turn Sam. It was a trap and there was nothing I could do about it.

The floor above me creaks and I freeze. I close my eyes, attempting to shut off every sense except for my hearing. Footsteps. Someone is coming, the question is who? I steel myself, my eyes closed except for a sliver. I sit and wait, praying to any God or Angel that might listen. The door creaks open, slowly, ever so slowly and I hear not one but two sets of footsteps enter the room.

“Y/N.” His voice is hushed but it is enough. My eyes snap open, relief floods over me as I see Dean. He is quick to holster his gun and close the distance between us. His eyebrows are drawn together in concern and he crosses the floor to my side in two strides. I wince as he gently tugs the gag from my mouth and I flex the stiff muscles in my jaw slowly, easing my mouth fully closed for the first time in a few hours. A hiss leaves my lips as he moves to undo the zip-ties on my wrists, the sharp edges of the plastic had already caused multiple small cuts to form around them.

“Who did this to you? Where are they?” Dean asks, his voice still hushed. It is at this moment that I remember the urgency that lies around this moment.

“It was Gordon, he got the jump on me in town. I have no idea where he went, he knocked me out before he tied me up down here. Be careful Dean, he could be anywhere.”

As I speak Dean continues to to work on the remaining zip ties, he’s on the last one when Sam quietly enters the room. Our eyes meet and he gives me a soft sympathetic smile, followed closely by a frown as he takes in the scene before him.

“Gordon’s nearby, Sammy. We have to be careful.” Dean mutters, his knife tugging against the stubborn plastic still wrapped around my ankle. I yelp as he finally gets it to snap, the plastic leaving one final mark on my skin. Dean is quick to help me to my feet, his hands steadying me gently as I ease myself into a standing position. Every muscle in my body is screaming in protest, aching from the sudden movement.

There is a loud clatter from the room above us, Dean glances at me and I nod, he immediately jumps into action, flying towards the stairs. Sam is right on his heels and I can hear them moving quietly towards the disturbance. The pit in my stomach builds again, this doesn’t feel right. It all seems too easy, they were able to walk right in and it seemed as if we would be able to leave without incident. I follow the boys towards the kitchen, slowly and every step more painful than the last. Yet the need to be in the reach of Dean outweighed everything else. I make it to the top of the stairs, my body aching with each step. I turn the corner and begin to head towards the room that I can hear the boys moving around in, I am almost to the doorway when my progress is halted. An arm slips around my waist, yanking me back roughly into the body behind my own. A hiss leaves my lips as a blade is pressed firmly against my neck, the cold steel causing goose bumps to rise on my skin.

“Shhh, better not fight it Y/N. Wouldn’t want to make you lose that pretty head of yours.” Gordon whispers in my ear, his lips brushing against my skin cause a wave of nausea to flood through me from his touch. He pushes me forward with the arm that is still wrapped around my middle, forcing me towards the room where Dean is, my Dean. I square my shoulders as much as my current situation allows, unwilling to allow myself to appear weak in front of this awful excuse for a human, well vampire.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Gordon announces our presence, keeping a tight grip on the knife pressed to my throat. He presses harder as Dean whips around, his eyes locking onto the situation before him and anger overshadowing his prior expression. His chin tips down, his gaze fixed on the life at my throat. His forehead relax, but eyes dark. His lips are parted and his chest heaves with exertion, absolute fury coursing through his veins.

“Don’t touch her!” He spits taking intentional steps towards us, an action that Gordon meets by pressing the knife against my throat tighter. An involuntary whimper leaves my lips as the blade slices through my skin, leaving a deep, but not deadly cut on my neck. Dean halts, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. HIs eyes now focused at the point where the blade meets my flesh.

“I wouldn’t make demands here, Dean. You don’t exactly have the upper hand.” I can’t see Gordons face, but I can picture the smirk that is plastered across his face even though he’s behind me. My eyes are focused on Dean, pleading silently with him to look at me, but he doesn’t, his eyes remain locked on Gordons.

“What do you want?” Sam asks, stepping into view besides Dean. His hands are raised, displaying that they are empty and that he is not currently a threat. Gordon laughs, the vibrations from the sound traveling through my body due to the close proximity.

“Oh Sam, you know what I want. I want the two of you. She was just bait.” Sam watches carefully, his face calm and unreadable.

“Then let her go. Take us instead.” Dean spits, one of his hands coming up to rake mindlessly through his hair.

“No, Dean don’t do th-“ Dean stops me with a look, his eyes fierce and I understand what he’s communicating. He has a plan and I need to just go along with it, for everyones sake. I bite my tongue, keeping quiet and waiting for his next move. I’m caught off guard by Gordon loosening his grip from my body, before he shoves me away from him. I fall hard, my knees and hands hitting the wooden floor abruptly. In the moment, I don’t notice the pain. I’m too focused on getting to Dean, I scramble to my feet and close the distance to where he’s waiting. His hands tug me behind him as quickly as he can, he steps between me and Gordon. Shielding me from danger as he always does. I dig my fingers into his shirt, balling the material in between my fingers, in an attempt to keep Dean close. It doesn’t last long. Gordon demands that Dean face him like a man, and of course, Dean follows through.

Dean steps forward, his fists balled by his sides, fingers twitching to find solace around Gordon’s throat, but he wouldn’t risk putting me in danger.

I am not alone for long, Sam must have closed the distance between us, because the next thing I know he is tugging me behind his tall frame. His body fully blocking my view of the horrible scene before us. I step to the side, ever so slightly, just enough so I can still see Dean, I can’t bear to take my eyes off of him. Not now. Not ever.

A sob rises in my throat as I see what I had missed in those brief seconds hidden behind Sam. Gordon has a knife to Deans throat, similar to how he had it to mine seconds ago. But this time, Dean is standing in front of him, facing him. His eyes are boring into Gordons, a glimmer of rage flashing across surface of the green orbs. His lip twitches up into a sneer, silently daring Gordon to finish what he started, end it.

“Y/N, close your eyes, you don’t need to see this sweetheart.” Dean says, his voice barely loud enough, but I hear him. I don’t realize that I am walking towards the two of them until Sam grabs me by the wrist and pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me and sheltering me within his grasp. I hadn’t realized that I was protesting and yelling at him, I could hear myself. I couldn’t feel the tears falling down my cheeks.

In that moment, my life flashes before my eyes. More specifically, the life that we had shared together. The day I had met the love of my life, so many years ago, when we were still children. It was a couple years after Mary died, I lived in the same neighborhood that they did. I knew that Sam and Deans mother had died, but I had never interacted with them. I fell off my bike in the street outside of their house, scraping my knee in the process. I had burst into tears, in the natural way that a six year old would when they got hurt. Dean was only a little older than me at that point, but he helped me up and walked me home. An act of compassion, that I would find out later was unusual for the older Winchester.

How, years later in high school, Dean beat up a group of boys that had been bullying me. Something I wouldn’t find out until after I graduated. He was always protective of me, but I could never really figure out why. We lost touch for a few years when I went to college, I would call him on occasion and get his voicemail and when he would call me he would get mine. Phone tag in every regard. It wasn’t until the day I lost both of my parents, that we finally reconnected. None of my friends understood how that felt, the loss of a parent. But I knew who would. I had called and left him a voicemail, pleading with him to return my call, that It was urgent and I didn’t know what to do. Well, instead of calling, he tracked my phone and showed up at my door. An act that freaked me out at the time, but now I can see why he responded in that manner.

We have had many fights over the years, varying in seriousness. Some of them petty disagreements that would end in playful fights. Others, volatile and filled with anger and one of us storming out. This was how I found out about the supernatural world, he had been dodgy and unresponsive. It made me angry, we had just started dating and I could never get him to give me a straight answer as to what he was doing and where he was going. So I followed him, right into a nest of vampires. That was a bad night, but I see now that he was just scared. He didn’t want to lose me, he couldn’t lose me. Just like how in this very moment, I couldn’t lose him. I was terrified at the looming possibility that tonight is the last night that I would see him alive. He could die. He was about to die.

I snap back to reality, my face still buried in Sam’s jacket. His hand is cupping the back of my neck keeping my head pressed against him, not allowing me an inch of wiggle room. I knew he didn’t want me to see what was about to happen, but I wanted to. I needed to see for myself if Dean died, otherwise I would never believe it.

I fight against his grip and I gain an inch, the ability to crane my neck enough to see Dean again. Still in the same position that he had been in moments before, only now there was a trickle of blood running down his neck, similar to the one on my own.

“Please, Gordon, don’t.” I plead, fighting harder against Sam’s grip on me, but I can’t move any further. I can’t get any closer, I can’t stop him, I can’t take Dean’s place. “Do it.” Dean spits, his eyes unwavering from Gordons. Even though I know it’s not possible, Deans eyes seemed black. Emotionless and dark. As he finished his sentence, his jaw clenches and he lowers his chin, a small grin replacing the frown that had been there moments before.

I am confused, why is Dean grinning? He seems almost elated at the prospect of his life being taken away at the hands of the evil man before him. It is only then, that my eyes drift past the two of them to the dark doorway behind them. I see a shadowy figure and almost scream out a warning, before I realize I recognize the way the shadow is moving. It’s Bobby. He is completely silent, the way his feet drift over the floor completely silently and he makes his way towards them. His machete raised high and poised to strike.

“Oh I will do it and with pleasure.” Gordon smirks, his muscles flexing in order to apply more pressure to the blade. But just as he begins to pull his arm back, to then return in a slicing motion, Bobby pounces. Bobby lunges forward, his machete slicing though not only the air, but Gordons neck. There is a satisfying and gut wrenching thump as his head hits the wooden floor. I scrunch my eyes shut, no longer needing to see what was going on in front of me. We were safe.

The second danger is no longer looming, Sam’s grip on me loosens and I am bolting. I throw his arms off of me and run straight to Dean. I wrap my arms around him so tightly that he takes a quick step back and it takes him a second to return the embrace, but he does. I let out a sob that I didn't know I was holding in. I snake my hands under his shirt, seeking comfort in the warmth of his skin. An action that we are both very accustomed to, a calming routine that helps the both of us. He presses a kiss to my forehead first and then my lips, before he whispers soothing words in my ears, none of which stick around long enough to register.

"You damn idjits, you're lucky I followed you." Bobby grumbles, wiping the blade of his machete with a dirty towel he must have found on the floor. A small argument breaks out between the three men, Dean jumping to defend their actions. It ensues loudly, until my knees nearly give out from underneath me. Dean notices and grips me tighter, his sentence cutting off in the middle and his attention is fully devoted to me once again. It's then that he takes in my condition, the multitude of cuts and bruises, the dark circles under my eyes.

"I'm dizzy De." I whisper, resting my forehead against his chest, my arms slipping down to my sides.

"I've got you sweetheart, let's get you home."

That's what he does. He is quick to pick me up, his hands gentle with me. How we got from the abandoned house back to Bobby's is a story that you would have to ask him. The second we climbed into the back of the Impala, I was asleep. My head tucked under his chin and my arms wrapped around him as firmly as I could manage. He carried me into Bobby's house, setting me down gently onto the kitchen counter. A mumbled, stay put, the only thing he needed to say. He addressed all of the injuries he could see, nearly waterboarded me with the amount of water he made me drink. Insisting that I was dehydrated and if I didn't drink, he would make me go to the hospital.

He was now fussing over a smudge of dirt on my forehead, a dirty washcloth pinched between his fingers.

"Dean," I sigh and reach up to push his hand away. "I'm okay, baby. I promise. I'm here. You're here. Let's just go to bed. Please." He doesn't budge and attempts to return to his previous task, his tongue pinched between his teeth. I push his hand away once more, holding it down against my knee this time. "De, please. I'm so tired. I just want to sleep in your arms." This time he listens, a sigh leaving his lips and he nods.

The second we got into bed he was asleep, a restless and anxious sleep. A slumber that I knew would soon turn into nightmares. The grip that he had on my body was tight, almost unbearably so. Yet I knew he needed it, just as much as I did. I shift slightly, allowing myself to be pulled even closer to his sleeping body. The love that we shared was unimaginable, I couldn't do any of this without him. I truly hope that tonight was the last time I would come that close to losing him. I close my eyes and allowed sleep to overtake me.

Little do I know, that was far from the last time something would try to separate us. It was only the beginning.

Tag List:

@roseblue373 @hobby27 @jc-winchester

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mxtxfanatic · 1 year ago

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One thing that I really appreciate about mxtx’s stories is that even though the common people are shown to have an understanding of hierarchy and a healthy skepticism—dare I say, disdain at times—for the elite class at the top of each world’s hierarchy, that doesn’t mean that their every judgment on the subject is right.

Tgcf is a perfect example of this in multiple arcs. The peoples of Xianle and Wuyong know that a person with money can bend the ear of a god, and the nobility of Xianle, specifically, even bar the poor from entering Xie Lian’s temples without first paying an entry fee. Lang Ying leads the Yong’an refugees to rebel because he sees the corruption girding Xianle society. However, these same peoples also believe in the hierarchy they despise for oppressing them. When the beloved princes of the respective kingdoms are unable to save their kingdoms from certain doom because they are unwilling to sacrifice the lives of others, those same citizens turn on them. Worse yet, Xie Lian and Jun Wu were the only gods who were about treating their worshippers equally regardless of status, while the gods who their former followers turned to for help were the very same ones that had watched them suffer, gleefully waiting for them to turn on their gods so that they could poach new worshippers. In the end, the people end up casting aside the gods who defied the heavens in an attempt to save them, in favor of worshipping the gods who wanted them to perish. We see this same level of misapplied understanding on smaller levels too: Mu Qing understanding classism but only taking issue with it when it negatively impacts him, personally; Lang Ying’s descendants devolving into the same kind of wasteful nobles that Lang Ying had deposed; the people in the temple who choose to stab Xie Lian to preserve their own life because “you’re meant to save us.”

Similar things happen in svsss and mdzs. In svsss, humans are reasonably wary of demons (who hunt and eat humans in this story) and look up to cultivators as their protectors, but broadly applying this allowed the corrupt Old Palace Master to weaponize that rightful wariness to harm his innocent targets: Su Xiyan, Tianlang-jun, Luo Binghe, and Shen Qingqiu. Had the common people witnessed a group of adult cultivators chasing a fearful toddler around be so convinced of the “righteousness” of the cultivators they admire? If so, would we, the audience, still look to the crowd as moral? At the same time in mdzs, the common people actually don’t look up to the righteous cultivation clans as inherently good, only a necessary expense—have you the funds—but even that is a weapon. Thirteen years after the first siege, a farming couple discusses how terrifying the power Wei Wuxian wielded was, grateful to the great cultivation clans for having killed him without any understanding that Wei Wuxian was the most upstanding cultivator of his generation.

In all of these examples, though the common people have an accurate understanding of systemic violence and the dangers present in their worlds, they are not always able to accurately apply that understanding on an individual or personal level, especially if their morals do not align with the idea that said violence is an inherent wrong. The common people in tgcf are not rioting against the concept of monarchies and nobility or the elitism of the gods, even as they know they suffer from it. The common people in svsss still shy away from demons, even though they’ve likely been harmed more times by a passing cultivator or rich person than they could even claim to have seen a demon. The common people in mdzs still turn to major cultivation clans for help and consider them to be overall moral people even with their publicly immoral behavior. None of these groups move to challenge the systemic violence despite knowing it exists on a personal level, which is what makes it very poignant when a character in these books does. Why did that person choose to speak up and stand out while most others didn’t? And what message is mxtx teaching us by showing us this character?

Knowledge, an understanding of systems of violence, and hierarchical placement does not make morality. Moral alignment paired with matching actions do. And without the latter, the former can be easily manipulated by bad-faith actors to reinforce the very systems that create the ills of society, regardless of what position one is born into on the social hierarchy.

#mdzs #svsss #tgcf #human metas mxtx

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hell-drabbles · 9 months ago

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Mock-up Card 1

Basically it's just an L Card with the Embittered Companion and Lucifer working together because my brain is stuck on that for some reason? It's weird. Anyways, when you activate the Ultimate Skill of this card, you switch to either Lucifer or the Embittered Companion. A sort of, two-in-one card. Embittered Companion is all about dealing damage while Lucifer is all about healing. There's a boost to their ATK for a good while after switching. Don't ask about the numbers, I didn't think of them at aaaall.

Also I don't have it in me to write prose right now, so here be lines!!!

[First Encounter]

YOU: Hey. It's been how many years? You know, since I last took up a weapon to chase people away? It's pretty nostalgic, honestly. LUCIFER: …are you already forgetting what you promised us? YOU: I'm not gonna charge in head first, you two. Get off my ass.

[Level Up]

YOU: What I lack… LUCIFER: I'll make up.

[Evolve]

YOU: It would be nice, to have less lives lost. LUCIFER: But all we can do is continue on, until the very end.

[Ultimate Skill 1]

YOU: Go ahead and take a nap, Lucifer.

[Ultimate Skill 2]

LUCIFER: Sit. Rest. You're bleeding.

[Upon Death]

YOU: I'm still shit at keeping promises huh? LUCIFER: It's not your fault. Let's go.

[Victory 1]

YOU: Glad to see you've been focusing on the task at hand, Ra-on. Well, battle's over, so you can do whatever the hell you want.

[Victory 2]

LUCIFER: This is something to celebrate about, isn't it? …yes, you'll be invited to the party.

[Defeat]

LUCIFER: A mortal body such as their's does not deserve to have injuries like this. Keep quiet, they'll wake up. I know they will.

[Lobby Interaction 1]

YOU: It's kind of funny to me that, after all that, my normal body hasn't really changed one bit. Still the same strength, still the same weaknesses. LUCIFER: It doesn't make it any less remarkable to me. YOU: So you and Ra-on say. Well, I've been in this body longer than anyone, so I wouldn't know what to be impressed by. Everything about this body is just uninteresting to me. Doesn't make me any less happy that I'm back in it, though.

[Lobby Interaction 2]

YOU: Hmm? What are you staring at us for, Ra-on? We that good of a sight? …happy, huh? Yeah, I suppose Lucifer and I make each other pretty happy. Don't discount yourself though, buddy. Wouldn't be in the place that I am without your help.

[Lobby Interaction 3]

LUCIFER: Your hands. Let me see them. YOU: Huh? Alright, but why? LUCIFER: Ra-on told me you forgot about your blisters. YOU: Oh. Oh! No, yeah I did forget. Whoops. But hey, at least I'm wearing gloves this time around, so they're not that bad. None of them popped, so they should heal nicely.

[Lobby Interaction 4]

LUCIFER: If you wanted to destroy Heaven, would you? I wouldn't blame you if you answered 'yes.' YOU: …maybe a younger, more freshly wounded version of myself would've said yes, but as I am now, no. The fate of Heaven is not mine to control. I can only control the distance between me and that place. Besides, I'll hold onto hope that the angels will eventually weed out that sickening need to be superior.

[Lobby Interaction 5]

LUCIFER: Shh. They haven't rested well last night. Whatever it is you want to ask, save it for later. Hmm? Mm. Yes, they're… still haunted by everything. Not even in sleep can they be allowed to escape. A curse that not even my powers can relieve.

[Lobby Interaction 6]

YOU: You know, I haven't heard the name Solomon in a while. Did you finally put your foot while I was away, Ra-on?

[Lobby Interaction 7]

YOU: Another angel almost snatched me up today. Even in this human form they hate so much, they still want to whisk me up right back to that suffocating cradle. Thanks for the warning by the way. LUCIFER: While we were all once siblings connected through our love for God, I won't allow them to repeat that torture. If I must make my words absolute, then I will.

[Lobby Interaction 8]

LUCIFER: Have you adjusted yet? YOU: To what? LUCIFER: To your lack of extra limbs. To that body of yours. Is there any pain? Any noises that want to invade your eyes and ears? YOU: …There's nothing. Sometimes I'll feel like I'm missing something, but it's all blissfully silent.

[Lobby Interaction 9]

LUCIFER: Do you have no intention of staying here? YOU: I have no intention of ever forgetting you, Lucifer. But, I can't stay here. This is not my home. Our home, is right where Minhyeok is. Where our beloved earth is. Hell is nice, but I'm pretty sure Ra-on and I miss the comfort of our home's air.

[Lobby Interaction 10]

YOU: Lucifer? LUCIFER: Yes? YOU: If, one day, I decide to visit, would you welcome me? LUCIFER: …always. A small visit, or a promise to dedicate our existences to one another, I'll welcome it all the same.

#whb #what in hell is bad #what in “hell” is bad #drabble #hell-drabbles #hell-drabbles exclusive #paradise lost #lucifer #embittered companion au #reader insert #mock-up card

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anxious-acorn · 3 months ago

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La Folie de Toi 🔞

Chapter 1: Murder Party

Summary: Welcome to the sequel of Black Coffee! My own little season two picks up a couple of months after Extermination Day. Alastor’s wound isn’t healing, and you’re determined to get his stubborn ass healed. Making a helpful offer to Charlie, you work to help the hotel in redeeming residents, but what happens when Vox tries to throw a wrench in all of your efforts?

☠️🚨⚠️ Warning: Adults ONLY, NSWF, dead dove, torture, murder, cannibalism, smut, rape/non-con, consensual cannibalism

Fall could be such a lovely time of year, on Earth, perhaps. Down here in Hell though, there was no perfect season. Not even a perfect day. Fall was the beginning of many sinners’ mating seasons, and it could be difficult to avoid unwanted advances. This season, however, you were left perfectly alone, even as you witnessed multiple overheated demons pant and touch themselves; they stayed well and far away from you.

It would seem that there were multiple benefits to being mate to the Radio Demon. As you made your way to Vee Tower, a smile formed on your black lips, crimson eyes narrowing in delight at your new discovery. You had thought his scent marking simply adorable earlier, but seeing its full effect at work, you happily decided to ask him to do so every day you were together!

Not that you couldn’t take care of yourself- especially after the battle of Extermination Day, you’d proven yourself absolutely lethal to any adversary who may come your way. Plus, you now had angelic weapons at your disposal! Princess Charlie gave all her soldiers weapons that day, and you had all kept them for when ever she should sound the call again.

It had been a little over a month since the great battle. You had learned that Heaven would be sending down an ambassador once a month for a progress meeting with Charlie, after discovering that Sir Pentious’s brave sacrifice earned him a spot upstairs. An incredible discovery and feat of love!

Once in the lobby of Vee Tower, you made your way up to Velvette’s floor. Muffled angry yelling met your ears before the elevator doors opened, and you made your way towards the noise.

“-and I can’t even use it! That stupid cunt is useless!”

With an inward groan, you fixed your face to be sympathetic and sweet.

“Did somebody order a therapy fox?” You entered the room Vox was currently pacing in. You heard an audible crack as Velvette turned her head completely around to look gratefully to you.

“Fucking finally! Look, Voxxy- Vixy is here to help. Come pet this adorable puppy and calm your ass down,” she demanded, grabbing Vox’s hand to pull him over.

With a kind smile, your body warbled and grew to your large vixen form. As Vox stared up at you, his eyes grew wide with an almost childlike awe, before reaching a large hand to run reverently through the fur of your shoulder.

“Okay Vel, you win. I can’t be mad when there’s such a cute little fox in front of me,” he conceded with a chuckle.

As the energy of the room calmed, you laid down and showed your belly, thumping your tail as your tongue lolled and you yapped. The two overlords cooed and gave you the best belly rubs you’d had in a good long while. Granted, it wasn’t often you took this form, so it was a rarity anyway.

This would only be the second time Velvette had felt the need to enlist your service since making your deal; she asked for pelts far more often. As the two overlords talked and pet, you allowed yourself to close your eyes and get a good puppy nap in. When in “soothing mommy mode”, Velvette’s voice was… well… velvet. It never failed to put you into a peaceful state.

When finished with the session Vox seemed to have a bit better of an energy, rubbing his screen against your belly one last time with a thank you before heading off to wherever he was needed next. You let Velvette cuddle for a bit longer before she also needed to continue her day, giving you a strong hug with thanks before a light punch to your shoulder.

Continuing on your rounds, you made several more fox therapy visits before making your way to a run down looking hole-in-the-wall. Stopping in front, you flared your aura and reached for the rusted door handle. It opened up to a much cleaner professional medical office inside. Multiple floors with offices, sitting areas and a small library made up the dimensional space pocket, ready for any authorized patient needing services.

There was a gentle tinkling as you entered and made your way to the corner office, where one of your favorite owned souls sat, reading through something on her computer. Knocking gently on the open door, you gave a small smile as the ram looked up to you.

“Looks like someone’s had a long day,” she commented, sliding her large red glasses back up her nose as she swiveled her chair to face you. Your face fell as you blew out a large breath, your posture deflating.

“Six therapy fox sessions in a row. That’s the busiest I’ve been in this industry in a while. How was your day, Nita?”

Anita leaned back in her chair to stretch her limbs with a yawn. “Not too bad. Had a couple of appointments, but mostly catching up on paperwork. It looks like there’s a turf war brewing, so we may need to move, but I’ve got Louis and Nipper keeping their eyes and ears on the situation. Hopefully it will settle soon,” she said. “Do you need a session?”

You took a moment to take stock of your body before shaking your head. “Nah, I’m doing good right now. Definitely still on for my regular next week though,” you replied. “I was actually wanting to see if we could arrange a provider meeting soon. I want to run an idea by everyone and see if anyone would be up for it.”

Anita cocked her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Another pet project, dear?” You chuckled in reply, leaning on the doorframe. “Maaaaayybe,” you teased playfully.

“Can I get a sneak peek?”

“I don’t know how exciting it will be, but depending on if there’s anyone willing to do it, I will be approaching Charlie to offer our services in house. I’m thinking since the renovation of the hotel, and with the presence of King Morningstar helping to protect the property, that we could take up residence on one of the floors there. We can always maintain our regular arrangements, but it would be so nice to just have one permanent spot to stay in. They would get our professional services to support their residents, and we would get a permanent place to live and work. Well, living there would need to just be an option, not requirement, but free room and board is a pretty picture. It would be a win-win!”

Anita’s golden eyes widened as you finished your proposal, dropping the pen she’d been playing with. “Are you serious? You think they’d go for it?!” It would seem you had at least one volunteer already. Chuckling, you gave a nod in affirmation.

“I think so. From what I’ve seen of the princess, she’s an absolute sweetheart who genuinely wants to help her people, she just needs a little help figuring out the recovery process. I think you’d really like her, she’s even bouncier than you.”

Anita gave an excited bleat, clapping her hands as she bounced in her chair. “Well, if you can’t tell, I’m definitely down! My landlord has been propositioning me since I moved in,” she groaned.

Your smile twitched at that- demons like her were often seen as easy prey. Hell, even you had trouble, and you were technically a predator! Cruel people saw a small, vulnerable looking creature and they wanted to crush them. “Do you need some help? My service is yours, Nita. What’s the point of our deal if you just end up putting up with the same shit?”

You kept your voice soft, not wanting to push her away, and she shook her head.

“I’m good, sweetheart. He’s all talk,” she waved the notion off.

“Well, don’t be too nervous if he somehow disappears,” you replied with a wicked grin.

Anita gave an exaggerated sigh, “just wait until we’re sure we get to shack up with the royals, yeah?”

Throwing your head back, you gave a hearty laugh. “I suppose I can wait to play with my new toys,” you gave a shrug. You received a soft smile before the ram looked to her computer, checking everyone’s schedules.

“I’ll post a community note but I think we should all be able to get together next Tuesday after 3:00pm.”

You nodded thoughtfully, taking out your phone to add the day to your calendar as a possible meeting time. “That should work- I’m heading over there soon so I should be able to bring up my proposal either tonight or tomorrow. I’ll be sure to text you when I have a for sure answer,” you said, before turning to make your way home.

“See ya later, boss!” Anita called, and you waved to her as you left. “See ya, darling!”

Making your way home, you noticed animal sinners shrinking away from you, looking quite frightened. Oh how wonderful it was to smell “dangerous”. You always held your head high, but you had never struck fear in the hearts of those you passed. Idly you wondered if they knew why they felt fear when you walked near. It made you feel ominous and powerful, and you quite enjoyed that feeling.

When finally you reached your home, you opened the dimensional front door and breathed a sigh of relief once the door was sealed and you stood in your living room. Your emotional battery was running dangerously low- it was time for some self care.

Pointing to the record player in the corner, the latest Verosika album crackled into the air, and you took your shoes off before padding into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you were disappointed to see no meat, and little else in the way of fixings. Maybe you could grab some cuts after your meditation.

Grabbing some chips from the pantry, you ate a few before sitting yourself down on the plush rug on your living room floor. It could be extremely difficult to just sit and be with yourself, not that you were ever truly alone. Your shadow warbled under your folded legs- a reminder of that fact. They had a much harder time stilling themselves, being an amalgamation of all of your emotions, but as music danced through the air, you both focused on calming your thoughts. Just be in the moment.

The music helped you to relax, and after about 30 minutes of song had passed, you began stretching out your limbs, resting in a few yoga poses before ending with some breathing exercises. The final song faded out and the record player went silent, aside from the occasional crackle.

Pointing the record player off, you stepped up to a green and blue marble that rested on your hearth, your lips quirking in an evil grin. You were reaching out to grab it when you felt your mate shadow in behind you. Well, you could always restock your meat later. Hell, Alastor might even feel up to a little show.

“Good evening, my darling. How are you feeling today?” Turning around, your wicked grin softened when you caught sight of your love.

“I am well, ma chér. Another stunningly successful day of dullness,” he shrugged nonchalantly, and you noticed the slight twinge in his brow. He walked over to enfold you in his arms, rubbing his cheek over your hair. Snuffling contentedly, he sighed- he must really enjoy his scent on you.

“Did you-“

“Talk to his shortness? Hahaha! I’d rather have my eyes plucked out by hellcrows.” His statement caused your eyes to narrow.

“Al, it’s been over a month. I know you’re an all-powerful masochistic overlord, but even you gotta admit how much pain you’ve been in.”

“Dearest, I am fine. These things just take time to heal,” he soothed, an annoyed tick at the edge of his permanent smile.

“Uh huh. Why don’t you prove it’s healing then, hmm?” Your challenge caught the other demon off guard.

“How are you proposing I do that?”

“Well, why don’t you try reaching for that stash on the top shelf?” Your suggestion made Alastor huff as he walked over and went to fulfill your request. He paused when his arm reached a certain point, and you sent your shade to grab it before he pulled a stitch.

Once he realized you’d already grabbed it and were working on rolling a blunt, Alastor deflated with a hum and walked over to join you on the couch. Snapping his coat off, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, and you swallowed the screech that wanted to claw its way up your throat. It had been a while.

“You know that holy energy needs to be siphoned out,” you said as you worked. Your mate stayed silent, truly a man-child moment. “You know only an angel or holy entity can do that.” Silence.

Lighting the blunt, you passed it over to him and he took a long hit before handing it back. Lungs of steel- that one. You passed the blunt back and forth for a while as a dragging tune sounded in the air.

“Okay, so what is it about Lucifer that you don’t like? From what I’ve seen, he’s been perfectly pleasant, if not a little bit of a try-hard.”

Alastor’s brows knit as he blew out smoke. “I don’t trust him,” he said, turning his head away.

You couldn’t help but laugh; the man was huffing and puffing like a child and you could cry from frustration. So you laughed instead. Alastor turned back to you, looking thoroughly offended, and you laughed harder.

“Why should you need to trust him? Darling, if the King of Hell wanted to do anything to you, he would do it, and short of my kiss, there is nothing you or I could do to stop him. You’ve been butting heads since you met, and he hasn’t so much as flicked your nose. I think it’s safe to assume he would be just fine taking some angelic energy from the man helping his daughter,” you said, taking one last hit before handing it back for him to finish.

“The man grates on every single nerve I have,” he growled out, leaning back against the couch with a slight flinch from the movement.

“Tis the season, my love. Maybe if you got that wound taken care of, we could take care of those pesky nerves,” you purred out, running your fingers lightly over his exposed forearm.

Alastor stiffened for a moment, his eyes darting to where your skin touched and he swallowed, licking his bottom lip. “I will think on it…”

“Well, remember you have one more week before I go to him myself.” Your warning had his ears pinning, a small groan leaving his throat. “No sass, Mistah Radio Demon,” you teased, grabbing a large hand to nip at.

“You are a cruel demon, mon cœur,” he whined, but his eyes glowed with softness, and you smiled. Leaning forward, you gave him several small kisses and rubbed your nose against his.

“Would you like a demonstration, my darling? I am fresh out of meat and was about to restock when you arrived.”

Understanding lit in Alastor’s crimson gaze, and his smile grew wide in joy. “I take that back. You are a cruel goddess, my little Vixen,” he purred in reply as he captured your lips once more. Sighing into the kiss, your hands rose to stroke his face and neck.

Standing from the couch, you offered your hand for Alastor to take before picking up the marble housing your dearly departed exes. “Let’s convene to my realm of darkness. I like to harvest a bit from everybody at a time, so my little darklings will help keep track of everyone as I work.”

Alastor grinned excitedly as he followed you up the narrow staircase and through your bedroom to the closet. There on the back wall, sitting inconspicuously behind the racks of fashion, was a black drawing of a door. Pointing to it, you whispered out the incantation to open your realm, and the door popped before creaking open, the darkness beckoning for you to join it.

As you stepped in, your little pack of shadows swirled around you in greeting, most even snuggling up to Alastor. He chuckled and you noticed his shadow warbling before they split from him to offer their own greeting. That got your little pack very excited, whirling around the unfamiliar shade in fascinated curiosity. You cooed at the adorable sight, and your own shade split to greet and zoom with their little family. How precious!

Your violent little darlings were definitely more receptive to Alastor’s shadow. Interesting. Perhaps they felt more similar in energy or were just more comfortable with the demon in general now… or something. Either way, the sight warmed your dead heart.

Pointing an ergonomic settee with plush pillows into existence, you gestured for Alastor to sit. With an almost disappointed sigh, the demon made himself comfortable. This was still the most exciting “activity” you’d allowed him in your presence since his injury, so he’d hardly complain.

Would you like anything to eat or drink, my darling? Or would you prefer to see the menu first?” You gave your mate a wicked smile, and his gaze softened on you before he snapped a bottle of whiskey and a couple of glasses on a small table next to him.

“I believe I’d like to see the menu first,” he replied, pouring himself a glass. “Would you care for a rye?”

Your smile softened as you nodded, taking your glass when filled. You clinked your glasses together and took a long drag, the liquid burning a trail down your throat to warm your stomach.

Leaning down a bit, you gave one last peck to your darling’s lips before straightening and turning to the open darkness in front of you, holding the marble up in your open palm. The marble began to glow as it rose to hover over your hand, before streaks of rainbow light shot from it. Nine different beams formed the pathetic lineup of demons before you.

“Good evening, my dearest fiancées! It is time for me to harvest your flesh again! Who wants to go first?”

The group of demons looked haggard, to say the least, and you felt that wonderful demented sense of schadenfreude at their suffering. Perhaps you would let them go some day; their sentence would carry on until you felt better about what they did. And today would definitely not be that day.

Nine demons. Nine men who, in one way or another, used you to climb the ladder of power and respectability.

“Oh, but where are my manners? My darling, allow me to introduce you to our dinner menu.” Walking down the line of demons, you reveled in the way they shrank away or flinched as you held a shoulder or arm. “Here we have Walter (a bull), Roy (a weasel), Frank (the tastiest of elk), John (a deer), Donald (a pig), Paul (not the tastiest of sharks), Abel (a snake), Timothy (a delicious bison), and last but certainly not least, there’s Harry (a fox).”

Oh, how delightful! It looked like a few of your little snacks were enduring their seasons as well. While you refused to use sexual violence against anyone, the added effects of your pheromones would make their suffering that much more painful. You weren’t in full-on heat, but you were certainly in your early stages. Alastor’s rut season was also just starting to affect his temper- this would surely brighten his mood.

“Please, Y/N… Hasn’t it been long enough? How long will you force me to suffer this hell?” Harry croaked out his question, his voice weak from the constant screaming. “Won’t you ever find it in your heart to forgive me? I truly did love you,” he finished.

“Aww, aren’t you sweet, my little kit?” Your cooing made the other demons in the room flinch. They knew exactly what would be coming, and your saccharine tone caused nothing but fear. Well, in the smart ones at least.

Closing the distance between yourself and Harry, you cupped the todd’s cheek and tilted your head to stare up at him. You could tell your scent was affecting him, as he leaned into your touch with a blush. You almost felt bad for him… almost.

“I will let you all go,” you began, gliding a claw down Harry’s jawline to his throat. “When my rage for you dissolves.” You continued, pressing your claw into his racing pulse before slicing through the flesh.

Harry gave a gargling wheeze, his hands flying to the gaping wound as he fell to his knees. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll make this easy on you,” you finished, and the rest of your exes shook, but stayed put. You had trained them well. Running would only make things worse.

You called your violent shadows to you and they swirled around you, flaring your hair with their wind. With a quick command, the shadows each took their place beside their respective origin, two of the larger ones behind Roy and Timothy, the largest and one of the smaller ones staying behind you. Their origins were either now laying dead, or swirling around in his own marble.

“What a splendid stock you have, my dear! I had wondered how you seem to always have venison for me. What a lovely revelation!”

You turned to Alastor behind you and had to swallow the screech trying to surface. Your mate looked absolutely terrifying, positively drooling over the feasting possibilities. You would need to attend to yourself after such a wondrous display.

Alastor’s nostrils flared, and he grinned wickedly. “You are just precious, ma chér. Perhaps you would enjoy a bit of dessert after dinner?”

“Now that’s cruel,” you laughed in reply. “Perhaps after your chat with Lucifer, my heart. Until then, all of this belongs to me.” You made a show of licking Harry’s blood from your finger, your eyes narrowing in delight at the whine you received.

Turning back to your old flames, you walked up to Timothy next. Your throat tightened and your gut clenched for a moment as your eyes locked with the bison, but you smiled wide at the tired demon anyway. He belonged to you. He could never hurt you again, the wretched beast. You saw the spark in his eyes- if you didn’t own him, he’d still want to hurt you. Well, at this point you couldn’t exactly blame him, with the almost century of retaliatory torture.

He, you doubted, would ever receive release. You felt your rage boil, and you conjured your cleaver as bright red chains appeared around the bison’s wrists and ankles.

“I don’t really like the way you’re looking at me Timmy. You of all people definitely belong right where you are.” You sent a command to the chains and Timothy was wrenched to his knees. The bison sneered, but lowered his eyes and growled out, “I apologize, ma’am.”

You snorted and scraped the edge of the cleaver up the edges of the bison’s face, tapping a horn with a hum. “I don’t think I believe that apology, darling. But good on you for the attempt,” you said, you grin widening as you grabbed an ear and sliced easily through the cartilage.

Timothy screamed through clenched teeth and you chuckled at the attempt at defiance. Tossing the ear aside, you raised the cleaver and brought it down on his shoulder blade (there’s nothing like a good chuck steak). That earned a bit louder of a cry, but you knew he could do better than that. Leaving the cleaver lodged in his shoulder, you conjured an ice pick and lined it up at the uninjured ear.

“Come now, little calf. I know you can scream better than that. Let’s give my mate a nice show,” you said jovially. That was when you slid the ice pick in his ear canal, just enough to pierce the ear drum.

“There’s that lovely voice,” you cooed as Timothy wailed and writhed to get away from the pain. The air was filled with the music of tortured screams as you worked on butchering the bison. Never would you give him a gentle death like you had Harry. You had taken most of the meat from his back when his body began seizing, and you cackled at his suffering, your shade breaking out the ribs with a malicious grin.

Timothy finally died when you were halfway through his front side, and you were absolutely covered in blood. Snapping your clothes off, you shook some of the viscera off, turning at the sound of interference.

Alastor was definitely enjoying himself, black eyes devouring your bloody form. “Enjoying the show so far, my darling?” You cocked your head with a manic smile and licked blood from the cleaver, your predators eyes flashing.

Alastor hummed as he moved to pour himself another glass of whiskey. “Quite so, mon cœur. I believe this is beginning to convince me to visit our feathered royal friend,” he replied, his smile wide and sinister as he brought the glass to his lips.

Your tail swished flirtatiously in response. You should have done this sooner- you should have known a show of wrath would be the trick to your stubborn buck. “You have no idea how happy that makes me, Al,” you purred out. “Are you feeling ready for a meal?”

Alastor’s black eyes glowed, “I can wait for the main course, but I’d love an appetizer! May I claim a sirloin from that tasty bison?”

“Of course!” Crouching slowly, you spread your legs as you reached for the correct cut, your arm covering your wet cunt from your mate’s famished gaze. Rising with a heated stare, you stepped over to hand him your prize.

Lifting the meat in offering, your heart melted when your monstrous mate leaned forward and took a bite, red dials switching at you. You cupped his cheek, stroking a bloody trail with your thumb.

“You look so very lovely in red, ma chér,” he said, leaning into your touch as he chewed. He seemed to enjoy the flavor, a happy moan leaving as he closed his eyes. “Simply delicious!” He exclaimed after swallowing the meat.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, my handsome buck,” you replied, placing a chaste kiss at the green ‘X’ on his forehead. Alastor gave a happy bleat at the affection, and pulled you in for a series of gentle, dragging kisses before letting you go. Giggling at the adorable display, you kissed the tip of his nose, and turned around to get back to work.

“Now, who wants to go next?”

As you crept your way over to the remaining trembling demons, your smile widened and your eyes lit with a manic gleam.

How you missed letting off steam!

When finally the bloodbath was over you were a panting, bloody mess. Alastor sat happily working on a sample platter as he watched you shake gore off of your skin and hair. Your shadows danced and swirled around you and you joined them. Alastor’s shadow chittered at you, offering their hand and you took it as Alastor played a cute love song for you.

Twirling, dipping and swinging within the shadows, you laughed and let yourself go. Now this was how to recharge a battery!

When you were danced out, you had your little darklings pack up your fiancées’ meat, the packages each labeled. Turning to look to Alastor, you offered any meat he may desire, and he chose some elk, bison, deer and pig. You each placed your respective meat in stasis dimensions before making your way to your bathroom to clean up.

As you pointed your shower on, Alastor snapped the bloody footprints clean from your floor before pulling you into his arms. “I would warn you about getting your clothing all bloody, but I rather enjoy seeing you wearing my handiwork,” you teased, running your tongue along his jawline. He chuckled darkly at your display and brought his lips to yours, the laughter morphing to a wanton groan when your tongues met.

“Would you like dinner, mon cœur? I could prepare something while you clean up,” he offered. Oh how wonderful your darling was!

“Sure. How about a flank steak from the elk. I’ve already stocked the fridge. Medium rare, if you will,” you replied, a soft smile playing on your lips as you stepped back and made your way to the shower. Once you were in and under the running water, Alastor snapped the rest of the blood from the floor (and himself) and headed out to fix your meal.

The water felt wonderful beating against your sore muscles, and you took your time washing yourself until the red water ran clear once more. When finally you felt refreshed and relaxed, you turned the shower off and wrapped yourself in a big fluffy towel.

Sniffing at the delightful aroma of sizzling meat, you quickly dried yourself and zapped yourself into a soft black day dress and made your way downstairs.

You loved seeing the domestic side of your mate, standing at the oven in a cute frilly pink apron that read ‘Kiss the Cook’ as he bent to place something in the oven.

“You’re making it smell amazing in here,” you complimented, wrapping your arms around his waist. Satan, you loved his scent- you would need to ask for a used coat for when your heat struck. You shivered at the very idea.

Alastor rose and closed the oven door, turning in your arms to smile warmly down at you. “Thank you, darling. Dinner is ready, and there’s a mocha chocolate cake in the oven,” he replied, hooking a finger under your chin to bring you in for a kiss. You leaned into him with a contented sigh, mindful of the large unhealing wound at his chest.

“Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?” You rubbed your nose against his with a gentle purr, and your darling gave a happy bleat. “You have, but I shall never grow tired of it,” he said, his ears drooping and smile turning buttery as he preened under your praise.

You stayed like that for a long moment, simply enjoying each other’s presence before parting to sit at the table. Alastor snapped your dinner in front of you and you yelped excitedly, your tail wagging behind your chair. He giggled at your little happy dance and took a sip from his drink. He’d prepared short ribs along with your steak and you each shared food as you planned the rest of your evening.

“Oh! I wanted to see if Charlie would be available for a proposal meeting, not that it needs to be formal.” Your words had Alastor’s ears pricking and head cocking in curiosity. “I’d like to offer her the services of myself and that network of therapists and doctors I told you about. If she would be willing to supply a floor of the hotel, we could provide care for your residents. It would also be nice if I could secure room and board within the hotel for the providers, should they wish to live where they work.”

Alastor hummed and took a moment to mull over your words. “I believe our dear Charlie would be over the moon to welcome you and your colleagues. We’ve gained a single new resident, however at the moment there seems to be a smear campaign against the project going around. I’m afraid your friends may be quite bored with the lack of clients,” he explained.

Oh, that’s right. Ugh. You felt for the dear princess. To be honest, if it weren’t for Alastor’s presence, Vox would probably leave the hotel alone; he could be extremely petty, not that your mate was much different. Your buck just loved to egg the tv on, and reveled in the rage he induced.

“That wouldn’t be an issue. In fact, if our current clientele were to see the safety and amenities offered by the hotel, you may gain some new residents.”

“A splendid idea, my darling. Would you like to sleep at the hotel tonight? We could see if our little princess is still up, or bring it up tomorrow if she’s not,” he offered. You smiled softly between bites of that delectable cake. If you didn’t have a hard on for your darling kitchen man before, that cake certainly did the trick. You couldn’t be completely certain, but that cake may very well be better than sex. It would be a very close race though.

“That sounds like a good plan,” you replied, moaning as you took your last bite and licked the plate. “This was absolutely wonderful, my darling. Thank you so much,” you said, rising from your chair to kiss Alastor’s cheek. After zapping your dishes clean, you slipped on a pair of black ballet flats and Alastor stepped over to offer his arm, his shadows swallowing you up.

When next you opened your eyes, you stood in the hotel lobby. You really hoped you’d be able to learn how to do that someday. The lobby was empty, save for a sleeping Husk at the bar, so you both decided to head up to Alastor’s room.

Sleep called to you and you both climbed into bed, Alastor curling into your chest as you wrapped your arms around him with a purr. Tomorrow was full of potential, and you couldn’t wait to begin.

—————————-

End of ch. 1

AN:

I’m so excited about this little plot line. Do mind the tags because shit’s gonna be crazy in this one. Buckle up boys, girls, nbs and fluid bees! We’re in for a bumpy ducking ride! 😆

I’m really having to hold myself back from the smut. Damnit Al, heal already! 😭

Thank you so much for reading!

If you’d like to be on the tag list, you can comment or message me and I’ll add you ❤️

Tag list:

@sirens-and-moonflowers

#alastor hazbin x reader #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader #the radio demon #hazbin alastor #x reader #alastor x oc #alastor the radio beau #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin x you #alastor hazbin x oc #la Folie de toi fic #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor

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cryscendo · 7 months ago

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Hi, how about an abrupt, heated kiss during the middle of a fight for Klaine?

i bet you didn’t think i would ever respond to this!! well i will say that i kinda ran away with this plot a bit. does it fit the prompt? only vaguely. BUT it’s another thrilling installment to my angel/demon au with a bit more lore thrown in. dedicating it to you as well as @porcelainvino for their various art pieces for this au <3 hope you love it and sorry for the wait!!

Paring: Kurt Hummel/Blaine Anderson

Word Count: 2030

Rating: T

AU: Angel/Demon AU

fic can be read under the cut <3

There were a lot of things that turned out to be just as unpleasant about falling, not including the actual falling part.

For one, he was weaker than he used to be. He did suspect that would happen, but it still hurt his ego a bit. He used to have so much power that he often didn’t even know what all to do with it. Not that he really could do much with it anyway; the big men upstairs never allowed much fun to be had. More time was spent existing as a militant entity than was spent actually basking in the alleged splendor that was heaven.

If given the option between going back to that or experiencing the pain of falling all over again, Kurt would choose to fall every damn day.

Besides, angels don’t get to play with humans like they’re Barbie dolls. And that’s way more fun.

The man before him, unsuspecting and ignorant, saw Kurt at a bar and thought he’d be an easy target. Kurt knew he perfectly looked the part of a young man getting his first drink at a bar as a twenty-one year old. Aging was such an earthly concept and Kurt was not burdened with it. But to an older man, the illusion of wide-eyed innocence was all too compelling.

Kurt claimed he ‘knew a spot’, which was just as cliché as it sounded, but it was effective nonetheless. Apparently intelligence didn’t always come with age.

It wasn’t long after he got the man to the abandoned storage facility that he knew something was terribly, terribly wrong. Not soon enough, though, for Kurt had already made quick work of knocking the man out and handcuffing him to a chair. When he came to once more, it was in a fit of panic.

“Look, I didn’t sign up for this kind of crazy! So just let me go, okay?” The man pleaded with Kurt and it was charming if nothing else. Kurt leaned over him, one knee braced against the chair in a way that could be seen as provocative in any other circumstance.

“What, am I too old for you?” Kurt asked in a mocking whine. “I swear, I’m only twenty, maybe thirty centuries old!”

“Whatever game you’re playing here, kid, I’m not interested so just let me-”

“Let him go, Kurt,” a voice spoke up behind him. Kurt grinned as he straightened up. Of course he would show up. It was impossible for him to stay away. He made a bit of a show of turning around to face the new arrival — his favorite little angel.

He turned towards the voice, maintaining his flirty tone. “Just can’t stay away from me, can you?”

“You could say that,” Blaine replied and that’s when Kurt saw it — the glint of a blade held discreetly in his palm. He recognized the weapon, as it was a piece from Heaven’s arsenal. See, a regular knife couldn’t kill Kurt.

But that one could.

Kurt’s grin dropped as he backed away from the man strapped to the chair, and subsequently also away from Blaine. “What do you think you’re doing with that?”

“You attract too much attention to yourself.”

“Well, I can’t help but pull focus,” Kurt responded in a rather clipped manner. The man in the chair began to panic even more upon being approached by Blaine.

“Listen, man,” the guy began quickly, “you don’t need to kill him or anything! Just let me go and I’ll be on my way!”

Blaine’s eyes flickered down to the stranger, eerily calm. “You don’t need to see this,” he said simply and before the man could even begin to reply, Blaine rested his palm to his forehead, immediately knocking him out. Putting a human to sleep rather than killing them; that was so painfully just like Blaine to do.

“Why do you have that thing?” Kurt interrogated the second that the man was unconscious.

Blaine turned the knife a bit in his hand as if observing it. “Come on, Kurt, you know exactly what this is.”

Kurt maintained a semi-safe distance. “Why do you need that thing to kill me? You’ve never needed that for a demon before.” It was true. Blaine could take down a demon easily. It made them cruelly unmatched. Blaine had never threatened to kill him before, but it would be undoubtedly easy for him to do so should he want to. For Blaine, a demon is an easy target. He was an easy target.

Unless…

Kurt’s grin returned. “You can’t kill me, can you?” He asked coyly.

Blaine remained serious, but Kurt could see a crack in his expression letting on that he was nervous. Kurt seemed to always have that effect on him. “Not at my rank, no,” he said simply, but Kurt knew what he meant. He wasn’t strong enough to take out Kurt. An ordinary demon, he’d have no problem. But as luck would have it, Kurt wasn’t an ordinary demon.

Kurt took a risk. He moved a few steps towards Blaine and the weapon he possessed. “You’re not going to kill me.”

“I could.”

A few more steps. “But you won’t.”

“I might.”

“But you won’t.” Kurt was directly in front of him now. He knew it was a dangerous game, but he had a point to prove. “Because if you were going to, you would’ve done it already. So tell me angel, was this a direct order from one of your bossmen, or are you just simply that obsessed with me?”

“Don’t push your luck, Kurt,” Blaine spoke, gravely serious.

“Or what?” Kurt challenged. He could feel Blaine’s steady breaths from just how close they were. Blaine’s gaze met his evenly. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it. I’m wide open.” Kurt tilted his head a fraction, his eyes alight with the rush that comes with toying with Blaine. His tone shifted into something devilishly flirtatious as he spoke again. “So, y’know, take me, I’m yours and all that.”

It was then that Blaine sprung into action. With quick work, he managed to securely grip onto the collar of Kurt’s shirt, using his strength over the other to force Kurt backwards. There was a time where Kurt may have been stronger than him. But Kurt gave all that up, and he still refused to regret it.

That didn’t mean he loved Blaine constantly using that fact against him.

Blaine got him against a wall with one particularly rough push. Kurt felt the brittle wall crack slightly behind him. Fuck, Blaine was strong.

Blaine was strong.

Once Blaine has Kurt pinned defenseless against the wall, he brings the blade down. Kurt doesn’t know whether it was thanks to adrenaline, or his own sense of speed in the face of self-preservation, but he reached up and circled his fingers around Blaine’s wrist before he could manage to connect the weapon.

The blade stilled, suspended in the air between them. Kurt imagined the scene was almost picturesque in a way — him pressed between Blaine’s firm body and the unforgiving wall, his long fingers locked around Blaine’s wrist. Angel and demon. Lovers. Enemies.

Blaine really was going to kill him.

Their shared breathing revealed the exhaustion that their overexertion had caused. Kurt knew, given his current position, he was fully at Blaine’s mercy. The mercy of an angel who just tried to kill him.

That gave Kurt little other choice. Slowly, he tugged at Blaine’s wrist until the blade was sitting just above his throat. He leveled Blaine with a steely look, deathly serious. “Well, go ahead, angel. Do what you gotta do.”

“I don’t want to kill you, Kurt,” Blaine clarified, but didn’t pull the blade away.

“Could’ve fooled me,” he bit out before he could even think to check his tone. This was, in large part, his own doing. He opened the door for Blaine to corner him, he really had no right to be upset about it actually occurring. Even in his current position, Kurt couldn’t refrain from looking down his nose at Blaine, hoping to properly demonstrate his distaste from his present circumstances. “I’m guessing you got assigned a job from one of the big men upstairs?”

“You’re lucky that it’s me and not someone else.”

“Oh yeah, I sure feel lucky.” Kurt’s fingers twitched around Blaine’s wrist as he continued to hold the blade close to Kurt’s throat. But hasn’t pressed in yet, and Kurt cannot fathom why. He has the perfect opportunity. Kurt is basically giving him a free pass, so why isn’t he going for it? “Well?”

Blaine’s grip on the weapon slacked just a bit. “Nothing is ever easy with you.”

“So why don’t you take care of the problem?”

Blaine said nothing, did nothing. He only stood and continued to watch Kurt in silence, and Kurt could practically see the flurry of thoughts swirl around in Blaine’s head. Kurt almost felt bad for the guy; he knew that he didn’t make Blaine’s job simple, and admittedly, does very little to combat that fact.

Eventually, though, Blaine shakes his head. “You’re right. I won’t do it.”

The sound of the metal blade clattering to the ground reverberated discordantly off the walls of the warehouse.

Kurt took no time to ponder Blaine’s decision to spare him. Instead, he kicked the weapon away from the two of them and then, in quick succession, flipped their two positions. Blaine didn’t put up any fight with being pushed up against the wall himself. He could break free if he really wanted to. He chose not to.

“Do you still love me, Blaine?” Kurt asked, not ready for the words to fall from his mouth before they did.

“Are demons even capable of love?”

Kurt wasn’t sure. Maybe demons who never experienced love aren’t. Love is formed from soul, grace, and humanity, of which demons have none.

But Kurt wasn’t always a demon, and he still didn’t really fit the mold of one. Fallen angels are different from regular demons. They still possess morality, at least to some extent. It was just like Kurt to never really fit in anywhere.

“Do you? Still love me?”

Honey colored eyes gazed at Kurt with something akin to sympathy, which would burn his blood if it weren’t for the fact that he so desperately needed a response.

Blaine nodded.

Kurt kissed him. He didn’t even hesitate. With Blaine pinned up against the wall, it was easy for him to leverage a searing, bruising kiss against soft lips. Blaine always tasted the same, like coffee, — such an earthly pleasure that he achieved no benefit from and only chose to indulge for its luxury — and something else a touch more divine. Kurt couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but it tasted vaguely familiar from the holy kingdom that he was no longer welcome to.

Kurt pulled away with a sigh. Blaine panted quietly, a faintly pink blush forming under tanned skin. Kurt was right about one thing, Blaine was an angel — in every sense of the word.

“I don’t suppose I can convince you to disappear for your own safety?” Blaine eventually asked.

Kurt smiled. “Not a chance in hell.”

Blaine nodded in understanding, as if he already anticipated Kurt’s response. “You always were stubborn to a fault.”

Blaine wasn’t wrong. And as much as he would love to stand here with Blaine forever, it wasn’t wise to hang around angels for too long — even if the angel in question was Blaine.

He finally stepped away from Blaine, allowing the man some space. Kurt glanced over to the man tied to the chair. He had forgotten that guy was here. He was simply a means to an end, afterall.

“You may want to wipe that guy’s mind, angel. Or else he’s going to be a real problem when he wakes up.”

Kurt headed towards the exit of the building, but not before Blaine called out to him. “Suddenly not so keen on sticking around?”

Kurt grinned, if not mostly to himself. “Oh, don’t worry, you’ll find me again. And who knows? Maybe you’ll actually have it in you to kill me next time.”

#my fic #my stuff #angel/demon au #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #klaine fanfiction #klaine fic #annepi-blog #porcelainvino #klaine #glee #glee fic #this took way too long and its also way longer than a drabble but hey at least im writing #i plan put all the angel/demon au fics into a collection on ao3 at some point #i love these two and i love this au

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zephartchives · 6 months ago

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My darling boy... (I say, presenting a full-grown man)

Lore dump ahead!

Meet Aquila, a former unit of Angels of War. Dispatched after the Virtue weapon of Kindness chose him to be Its wielder. Everyone was unsure why It chose Aquila of all people considering his war/violent background.

It's difficult for him to move to peaceful works since in his entire existence he's been raised to be war-ready. His anger issue grew and constantly ached to solve problems through violence. But he dealt with those troubles and adjusted to his environment after a while. He begins to discover his personal identity and changes to a body he can finally be comfortable in. That's why he wears a rather revealing outfit, no more hiding in massive armor just to shy away away his skin.

When everything seemed to be going well for him, His temper snapped and made a massive casualty. He destroyed an entire port from Paradise (Heaven) and slaughtered Innocents in the process. Mid-craze he was unable to listen to his higher-ups, he couldn't even control his own body.

Paradise saw this to be defective for an Archangel so he's sentenced to lose the majority of his abilities, only allowing him to keep abilities a Trainee could do; He's restricted from taking any other works other than cleansing corruption throughout the world. The dark gradient of his hair serves as a permanent reminder that if he's on the brink of getting cast away.

This sentence is too light for an Archangel undoubtedly. It would just be easier to make him fall, but Paradise sees him as too important. The Virtue weapon, Kindness really likes him after all. That's a rarity. They hope Aquila will get purified to fit his role as Archangel again overtime.

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s3mi-ch4rm3d · 1 year ago

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can we stay for a while and listen for heaven?

A/N: my first fic !!!! i wrote this between the hours of 1 and 4am so i hope its not shit asjkffjkd

please please please reblog, comment and like !!! if you have any feedback please feel free to drop it too (:

"You’d told him earlier that this building was his home. You were wrong – he fights the urge to say it now. To chant ‘The four walls have nothing to do with it. My home isn’t this house, it’s you. It’s here, in my arms’ until his throat runs dry. "

desc; veteren!reader x simon riley. he comes home on leave after a (kind of) disagreement. all fluff, some non-sexual nudity (a soft little affectionate shower scene). should be fairly gender neutral!!

"Hear the storm dances outside Something set free is running through the night And the dark awaits us all around the corner But here, in our place we have for the day Can we stay a while and listen for heaven?"

Simon “Ghost” Riley, more weapon than man, almost falls to his knees weeping at the sight of you.

You stand, some thirty-feet ahead of him, holding a pistol aimed at his head with perfect precision. Hair wild and sleep-tousled, one of his shirts hanging to about mid-thigh, eyelids drooped and eyebrows furrowed in confusion, lips forming a perfect ‘O’ and he swears to whatever divine being still watching that one day he’ll be brave enough to marry you.

He’d poetically liken himself to a man returning home from war, but the simile cuts a little too close.

You lower the weapon, flick the safety on (he narrowly bites back the urge to praise you) before launching it towards the sofa and launching yourself at him. He ignores the burning in his injured side and returns the fervour, arms finding your waist with practised ease. After almost fifty hours awake, Simon allows himself to feel the exhaustion that permeates his bones. He sinks into you – into your warmth, your scent, your love. He fears he’ll never be able to let go again.

You somehow detach yourself enough to blink up at him, eyes still half-lidded. “You’re back,” you whisper, voice so roughened with sleep that he can only make out half the syllables, “thought you were comin’ back next week?”

“Sorry, darlin’. Should’ve given you a heads up.” He hates how fatigued he sounds, even to his own ears, but he can’t keep up the act. Not with you.

“Nonsense, Simon Riley.” Your nose scrunches, voice mimicking severity. The way your mouth sounds the shape of his name ringing through his head like a stricken bell, “This is your home, too. You know you don’t need permission to come back.”

He doesn’t know, not really. Especially not at the moment. He’d half expected you to shove him back out the door duffle still in hand if he were honest. After almost two weeks of not speaking, of dodging calls and ignoring texts, he figured he’d deserved it. The knot of guilt begins to twist his stomach.

You must sense his hesitation – reading him like a book always was a favourite pastime of yours – because you press your face back into his chest, squeezing him briefly before releasing him. He barely has time to mourn the loss of your warmth before you’re hooking your pinky with his, intertwining your fingers.

You lift yourself onto your tiptoes, face hovering just a few centimetres away from his, before you whisper.

“You’re not getting into our bed smelling like shite, Si. ‘M hosing you down."

He watches as the corners of your lips turn up into one of your signature lopsided grins and before he can stop himself he’s leaning in to kiss it, mask be damned. Since there are no merciful gods left, you duck out of the way before his mouth can stick the landing, letting out a squawk of laughter as you swipe out of the way of his arms. He finds his lips mimicking yours beneath the fabric.

“You’re not kissing me til you brush those fuckin’ teeth, either. Dirty man.”

“I thought you liked the way I taste, love.”

You snort, pinky latching onto him again, leading him towards the bathroom of your darkened house. Reiterate your previous statement by muttering a “filthy man” under your breath. The radiance of dawn spills through the closed blinds as the sun begins its endeavour across the sky once more. Simon follows dutifully behind you.

Your unoccupied hand fumbles before finding the string of the light switch. You give it a firm tug and cool light blares into the room. Simon barely has time to hiss before you’re tugging it off again, encasing the room in darkness once more. You hum softly, murmuring apologies as you lead him to the toilet seat.

“Sit. I swear I have fake candles somewhere, I’ll find them.”

An objection rises in his throat, although he obeys instantly, perching on the lid of the toilet. He watches in the low light as you flit about the room, rummaging through bottles and loofahs and sponges before letting out a small “aha!”.

You methodically disperse small, white discs around the room, clicking them on as you go. Warm light flickers throughout the room, much less overbearing than the beacon overhead. You turn to face him again and he lets out a sigh through his nostrils. You’re far too endearing like this; completely dishevelled, all soft smiles and teasing words.

He can see it with a bit more clarity now, the way worry has been eating at you. In the dim 'candle' light, he notices the state of your lower lip, chapped and bitten, and the smudges of blue that frame your eyes. The knot that sits at the base of his stomach twists again, digging in, and he tightens his jaw to stop himself from spilling I’m sorry’s like a mantra.

“You planning on washing your clothes as well as your body, babes?”

Your voice pops the bubble of his self-pity. He blinks thrice, grateful for the mask to hide the downwards tilt of his lips. He attempts to sound breezy as he replies, though it comes out with more bite than he’d like. Typical.

“Figure it’s the quickest way to stop smelling of ‘shite.’”

It’s your turn to sober yourself as you cast your eyes over him, eyebrows furrowing. You must catch it; the way, however subtle, his body responds to his injury – hunched slightly to one side as if trying to curl protectively around it. He straightens his spine at your scrutiny.

“You’re hurt,” you whisper, voice so tender, as you take two slow steps towards him, “your side?” Your eyebrows furrow, hands absently reaching for him.

“It’s nowt, darls. Just some bruising. I…” He rolls the request around on his tongue. He swears it burns, to ask more of you after you’ve given so much. “I need a hand. Can’t really… bend. Sorry.”

Your reaction is immediate. You drop to your knees in front of him, hands reaching for his laces, face set in gentle determination.

“It’s no bother, handsome.” You’re quick to soothe, to reassure. Always so quick to give him what he needs. He softens like warm butter. “Get started up there, and we’ll meet in the middle.” You toss him a cheeky wink, face still tinged in a trace of worry.

Never one to deny you anything, he does as he’s told. Starts with his mask – easy enough. He’s too tired to have any reservations now, especially when you’ve spent so many nights devoted to tracing his scars with your lips. He unhooks the straps and slips it from his face, drops the piece of fabric onto the bathroom counter next to him.

His shirt is… a little bit trickier. He struggles to lift it up above his head, but he manages it soon enough. On his own, despite your assurances that you can help with that, too. He’s a stubborn creature.

Meanwhile, you’re dutifully and methodically working off his boots. He’s seen those hands broken and bruised, snaked around the grip of so many guns. He’s in awe of their softness; the duality of hands once soaked in blood, now working so gently to undress him.

True to your word, always, you meet him in the middle. Soft hands ghost over the mottling of bruises littering his left side, shades of purple and blue deep and rich. You frown, casting your eyes up to meet his. Your teeth go to bother your lower lip again but he leans forward to intercept, covering your mouth with his own.

You hum absently into the kiss, feel the graze of his hand against your jaw, the soft exhale through his nose. You both stay like that for a moment; making no move to deepen the kiss, keeping it light and sweet and oh-so tender.

You disconnect, your frown banished. He watches through his lashes, eyes half-lidded with relaxation as you stand back up, hands moving to the hem of his your shirt. Simon reaches to help, you swat his hand away.

“Ah-ah! Just sit back and enjoy the show, Riley. I don’t give ‘em out for free.” You wink, cocky grin rising to your lips. God, he has it bad for you.

“Show me how it’s done, love.”

You put him to shame. Lift your shirt off with one confident sweep of your arms. His hands twitch with the effort to keep them by his sides. The rest comes off just as easily, barring your fluffy socks. You almost end up flat on your arse, cheeks flushed as you slouch against the bathroom counter repeating ‘stop laughing, Simon Riley, or so help me God–’

A few moments later and you’re both in the shower, standing under a stream of water just below scalding. He hisses as the jets hit him, rolling down the planes of his back, slowly loosening the knots along his spine. You’re standing so close, nearly pressed against him, and this time he doesn’t stop himself from slipping an arm around your waist. Your bare forms merge and he feels like a ship returning to harbour. He feels tethered.

You’d told him earlier that this building was his home. You were wrong – he fights the urge to say it now. To chant ‘The four walls have nothing to do with it. My home isn’t this house, it’s you. It’s here, in my arms’ until his throat runs dry.

The way you tilt into his grasp, your arms winding so naturally around him, slotting against him so perfectly makes him think you already know the words by heart.

After a few minutes, you break away. Simon is just breathing out an objection by the time he notices the loofah in your hands. You squirt a splodge of soap onto it and a wave of your signature scent fills his nostrils. His objections die on his tongue.

You work the soap into a lather before gently taking one of his arms, eyes flicking up to meet him for a moment in a silent question. He answers with a nod and you get to work, systematically massaging away the layers of grime and dirt. You work in small circles down his arm, scrubbing his armpits and washing the grit from beneath his fingernails with precision, before moving onto his other arm.

And so the time passes; both arms, across the chiselled plains of his broad chest, down to his navel, spinning him around so you can work your way up his back. Then you’re onto his legs, his feet, before you move on to washing his hair.

He has to stand facing away from you (much to his despair – you look so focused, your tongue almost poking out in concentration), head tilted back to give you access to the top of his head. Still, you stand on your tiptoes, rubbing and massaging the shampoo into his scalp with firm but doting hands. You hum as you work.

He’s flooded with warmth at the depth of your devotion.

Hours or seconds pass by, simultaneously too much and too little time, and you’re done. You guide his form back around to face you, rising up to place a sickeningly sweet kiss to his lips. His body is sagging as the exhaustion finally drapes over him like a well-worn blanket. He blinks to keep his eyes open.

“Your turn?” He murmurs, voice a jumble of syllables.

“Mmh, I’m okay, babs. We need to get you into bed,” you hum. His eyes close for half a second and by the time he’s opened them again, the shower is off and he’s wrapped in a soft towel.

“Our bed?”

You huff out a breathy laugh, “Yeah, Si, our bed.”

Pinkies entwined, you lead him once more. Sunrise is fully upon you now, a kaleidoscope of peaches and tangerines spill through gaps in the curtains to bathe the bedroom in pinks and golds. You guide Simon Riley, now far more man than weapon, to his side of the bed. The man barely makes it to a horizontal position before reaching for you -- a request that you happily oblige.

You settle against him with the same practised ease, curled against his uninjured side, head tucked against his clavicle. He hums beneath you, arms slotting into their designated space around your waist.

A few moments pass. You’re certain that he’s already asleep when his voice, deep and full of timbre, cuts through the tranquillity.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps, his large hands dragging up the notches along your spine. “‘M stupid, and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t– you don’t have to, Si. I get it.” You exhale against his collarbone, arms tightening around him. “It was a bad time. I didn’t mean for it– it just came out. I get it.”

Simon murmurs in disagreement, but he returns the motion. Arms squeezing your sides like he needs an anchor, something to hold on to.

“I shouldn’t have ignored you. I was a coward. I–”

His head turns, lips grazing over the crown of your head. His eyebrows furrow and he freezes for a moment before whispering, voice so quiet you have to strain to hear it.

“I feel it, too. I can’t– I can’t say it, but I feel it. I do.”

You feel the corners of your lips twitch up involuntarily. This absolute muppet of a man – watching you all evening like you’d hung the stars one by one, like you were some divine creator, some source of eternal beauty that could make the angels quiver. You bite back the urge to laugh, and instead tilt your head upwards, graze your rough lips across the underside of his jaw.

You whisper back, trying to pour as much love and devotion as you can fit into three words.

“I know, Si.”

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