#about it (like call all of the neighbors or try to get someone out there) so I just went myself with a roommate who agreed to drive me.

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: after a week of silence following the events that spiraled from your fake relationship, there's a knock at your door in the night. the sequel to wishful thinking, read part 1 here!

★ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫: sylus

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: some angst (happy ending), really sappy make up smut, soft sylus, kinda sub sylus if you squint, body worship, female reader

★ 𝐰𝐜: 3.1k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: woot woot part 2 is finally here, sorry for the wait!! i had envisioned this being a two-parter from the start, and i wanted to do a bit of sweet smut hehe. you'll have to pry soft and caring sylus out of my dead cold hands that man is needy and obsessed w mc :(

It had been a week.

A week of nothing, absolute silence. No calls, no texts. It slowly became as if Sylus never even existed.

It was hell at first. My feelings had come on so fast, and then just like that it was over in the blink of an eye. The game of it all, will they or won’t they find out, the lies, the fun. It was exciting, until I started to get hurt; and I wasn’t going to put my own feelings and misery aside at the expense of everyone else.

Slowly, but surely, the days got easier. I had a break from work where I could take the time to put myself back together, though the band aids didn’t heal the wounds. They just helped to ease the ache.

I started to move on. It had been a week; I was going to go back to work, and act as if none of this ever happened.

Then there was a knock at the door.

It came in the middle of the night, and I just assumed it was one of my neighbors telling me to turn my TV down, or Xavier dropping off a game he had borrowed.

When I opened it, outside in the complex's hallway stood a sopping wet Sylus, drenched from the storm outside. His silver hair was messy, sticking to his forehead, his clothes disheveled as if he had thrown them on in a rush. A look of desperation resided on his face, replacing his usual calm and smug demeanor.

Not seeing him for a week was not something out of the blue, but the big bad leader showing up at my doorstep shivering like a wet cat was. Especially after everything that happened.

My heart felt like it lurched out of my chest, and all the bandages I had tried wrapping around it came loose in one swift movement. All the healing I had done flew outside the door I had opened and stood beside Sylus, mocking me.

I almost slammed the door closed, angry at his audacity, showing up at my place in the heat of the night after not speaking to me. Angry at everything that happened. Angry, hurt.

A whisper of my name escaped his lips, and I froze. It wasn’t often he called me by my name, only addressing me with his usual pet names.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned, hesitant about this whole exchange.

He glared at me, “That’s no way to speak to someone in distress.”

Angry.

I went to shut the door in his face, pissed off and violent, but he stopped it with his hand.

“Wait, I’m sorry.” The apology felt foreign coming out of him, “Can I come in?”

The look on his face went soft, and it almost looked as if he was going to cry. Everything about this was so out of character for him, and if I wasn’t so angry, maybe I’d even feel sorry for him.

Without a word, I pulled the door back open, stepping aside for him to come in. He was obviously cold, and it seemed like was trying his hardest to keep himself together.

“Don’t sit on the couch, you’re wet.” Maybe I was being mean, maybe he was undeserving of my anger, maybe letting him in was a mistake. I sighed, “Sylus, why are you here?”

“You’ve been ignoring me.” His words were hard, and his stare was piercing. Normally I would feel uncomfortable under his gaze, but the exasperation I felt from his words outweighed that.

I scoffed, “I’ve been ignoring you? You haven’t reached out, what was there to ignore?”

“You’ve been ignoring me, you’ve been pulling back. I know you know I’m not stupid, kitten.”

He was right, he wasn’t stupid. When I started pulling away, he started pushing harder, and I could tell he knew I was almost done.

“Okay?” I crossed my arms, avoiding his eyes, “Then you started ignoring me. We’re even.”

“No.” He shot out, taking a step towards me, “That’s not how that works. I was waiting for anything from you, but it never came.”

“What did I do? What did I do wrong?” Sylus tilted his head forward, and I started to finally feel guilty. All of this was so different for him, when Sylus was upset he became mean, aggressive. He put up walls, started fights. For him to be so…pitiful, where was all of this coming from?

“I don’t understand what you mean-” He cut me off with a forced laugh, “You don’t understand? I don’t know how much more obvious I can be, sweetie.”

“Okay,” He paused, “I love you.”

My heart stopped. For a second, the world stopped spinning. It’s like everything, all at once, came to a halt with Sylus’ confession.

“You…love me?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue. This was not how this was supposed to go. I loved him, that’s why I had to stop all of this, so it didn’t continue. It couldn’t continue. He cannot love me back.

“Why else do you think I threw myself into all of that? Why do you think I didn’t want anybody else to do it? Because I was bored? I have plenty of other things to do in my spare time.” His voice was hoarse, almost pleading for me to understand.

“Sylus, I-”

“For a second, I thought you loved me too.” Sylus sounded desperate, “But then you pulled back. You disappeared.”

He grabbed my hands, “Tell me, sweetie, what did I do wrong?”

“You love me.” I whispered, “That’s what you did wrong.”

Sylus let go, taking a step back. He ran his hand through his hair, a sorry attempt to pull himself back together, “I apologize,” He said, “I misunderstood this then.”

I looked at him, his appearance disordered and disheartened. The once prideful and arrogant man was now broken down to nothing but a shell of himself, and I realized the cause of that was me. Sylus was never one to back down from a fight, yet here he was throwing up a white flag.

He went to leave, turning his back to me. Turning his back to whatever was happening, breaking the character I had come to know. Going down without a fight. This broken man wasn’t Sylus.

“I love you too.” The words came out rushed, in a hurry to stop him. Announcing my own declaration of love wasn’t something I had intended to do, planning to keep it inside for all of eternity, letting the poisonous feeling bubble inside until it ate me alive.

Sylus stopped in his tracks.

“Then why is this wrong?” He didn’t turn back around to face me, and I wasn’t sure I wanted him to. I’d crumble and fall if I saw his eyes.

“It would never work,” I let it all out, everything I had been holding in for so long, all the insecurities I had collected regarding any kind of relationship I could have with Sylus. “I’m a hunter, and you’re the head of Onychinus. We’re in two different worlds, living such different lives, it’s doomed. All of this is doomed.”

“Do you really think I care?”

His fingers suddenly gripped my chin with a possessive hold, as if he thought I might run off again. Trying to pull myself away, his grip tightened on my face, as well as the hold he had on my heart.

“It doesn’t matter if you care or not,” I gave him a weak glare, trying to scare him off, “don’t be selfish, Sylus. We’ll both just get hurt.”

Sylus lips twitched downwards, “I think you should allow yourself to be selfish for once.” His grasp left my face, “Do what you please.”

We stood in silence for a second, and I set my gaze upon the floor to avoid his stare, his red eyes penetrating my soul.

“What are you thinking?” He finally asked. I hesitated, not exactly sure what the right answer really was. I could continue to fight this feeling, or jump into the water.

“I’m scared.” I confessed, “I don’t want to get hurt. I can’t go through all of that, all of the heartache when things go wrong.”

“Now why do you think I would ever let that happen, sweetie?”

Sylus grabbed my hand, placing it against his heart, “This beats for you, I live for you.” I felt the quick, erratic rhythm of his heartbeat under my fingers, “I never stop missing you when you’re not around, every second you’re not beside me is misery.”

“I'll love you until my last breath, and even in the heavens too.” He pulls my hand up, placing a kiss against my palm, “I will never let anything happen to you, I could never live with myself if I hurt you.”

He kisses the back of my hand, my wrist, all the way up my arm to my collarbone, “I will do anything to make this work - if this falls apart, I’ll just put it back together. I need you by my side.”

I feel his soft breathing against the crook of my neck, and goosebumps rise on my skin. I want to fall into him, let myself become loose in his embrace and learn to trust his promises.

“But if you don’t want it, just say that.” Sylus presses one last kiss to the skin of my neck, “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave through that door, and I won’t bother you again.”

“Sylus…” I can only manage a whisper of his name. Everything else gets caught in my throat, my mind a tangled mess of emotions.

His face is inches from mine, and he quickly gives me an amused smile, “That's not a no.”

Before I can respond, even think of something to say, he captures my lips with his own. The strong smell of his cologne mixed with the taste of his mouth against mine makes me dizzy. The room and everything in it has suddenly become so warm, and my skin feels as if it’s been lit on fire.

Sylus pushes my body up against the wall behind us, hands trailing up my curves, grabbing at anything he can. His fingers embed themselves in my hips, waist, thighs, trying to pull me any closer.

“I’ll ask you again, sweetie,” He pulls away and I’m left standing there breathless with an unwavering grip on his (still) damp sweater, “do you want me to stop?”

I tangle my fingers in his wet hair, bringing his face back down to mine.

“No.” I whisper against Sylus’ lips, before crashing mine against his feverishly. Every feeling I had for him, everything I had suppressed, all of it was going into this kiss. He groaned into my mouth, his hold on me becoming tighter.

It all made perfect sense; The way our lips moved in sync, how our bodies fit perfectly together, our minds addicted to the thoughts of one another. We were, to put it simply, made for this. Our souls intertwined with ease as we found solace and safety in each other. All of the fear I had been plagued with dissipated with the consolation of Sylus’ body against mine. I was no longer scared of this not working, all I cared about was him.

After all, even a broken clock is right twice a day.

With one swift movement Sylus lifted me off my feet and cradled me with ease, maneuvering around my apartment as if it was his own.

Before I could even register I was in my bedroom, I was pinned against the mattress in the safe confine of his arms.

“Please,” His breathing was ragged, “let me show you how well I can treat you, let me touch you how you deserve.”

I lean up and kiss him between his furrowed brows, and he takes the opportunity to dive for my neck.

“Please.” Sylus repeats again. His eyes are practically begging. I give him a nod.

Stripping me of my shirt, he places gentle kisses down my torso down to the waistband of my shorts. Goosebumps rise on my skin from the cold air mixed with his gentle touch. His rough, calloused hands hold my hips like glass, a finger slowly pulling my shorts off my legs. A hiss of air leaves his lungs when Sylus sits back to take me in.

“Fuck.” He whispers, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for... Thought about having you like this.”

I give him a sheepish smile, “Is it worth the wait?”

His adams apple bobs in his throat as he swallows whatever words were going to leave his lips, running his hands up my thighs and waist. Sylus’ eyes travel up my figure, almost as if memorizing every dip and curve of my body.

“Every single second was worth it.” His voice was soft, “You’re perfect.”

Sylus leans down, pressing his lips to the bone where my hips and pelvis meet. He picks my leg up, lightly lifting it over his shoulder, resting his head on the inside of my thigh and looking up at me through his eyelashes.

He looks angelic, pure almost, glowing in the moonlight that spills through the window. His dominant, hard-bitten and arrogant exterior had disintegrated into nothing but his surrender as he lay open and bare for me in between my legs. All the walls I knew Sylus to have crumbled and fell, his only goal to show me that I’m loved; serving to please.

The tip of one of his fingers slides up my slit, and my breath catches in my throat. Sylus pauses, “Is this okay?”

“More than okay.” I confirm.

He quickly discards the cloth separating him from the heat in between my thighs, placing a gentle kiss to the place that craves him the most.

A moan escapes me as his lips latch onto my clit. My hands weave themselves through his hair, “Oh God, Sy- Do that again-”

Sylus groans into my core, worshiping the sex and heart that weeps for him, and only him. I twitch my hips towards his face, my mind reeling with the feeling that emits from his mouth.

“Yes-” He pushes a finger into me, easing the ache deep inside, “Be greedy, kitten, use me as you wish.”

I can only manage whimpers of his name, my brain incoherent and high on his mouth and touch as his tongue and fingers work magic. Tugging on the silver strands that grace his pretty head, the moan that leaves him vibrates against me, and I think for a second I might be done for.

“Mm, Sylus, wait-”

“That’s it, sweetie. Getting close?” His fingers curl up inside me and I shake my head, not wanting to finish so soon, “No, I-”

He pulls back and sits up as soon as the word leaves me, and I almost sob at the loss of contact. Sylus’ eyes scan my face with concern, and I pull him back down on top of me. His chest heaving against mine, he plants a kiss to the corner of my eye, “I thought I-”

“Not yet, fuck me.” Cutting him off, I push my body up against his.

“Of course, kitten,” Within seconds his pants and briefs were discarded somewhere in the room, my thighs instinctively wrapping around his hips, “who am I to deny you?”

His hard length pressed up against my entrance, the desperation making me crazy.

“Sylus, please-” I tried to push my hips forward, longing for more. He cupped my cheek, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead, inching deeper agonizingly slow, “Patience, sweetie. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t!” Despite my reassurance, Sylus’ eyes were still filled with worry. Using my legs that were wrapped around him, I yanked his hips forward and with one fell swoop he was to the hilt inside.

Spasming around him at the sudden fullness, I sunk my teeth into his collarbone to stifle a scream. I could feel myself gripping him like a vice, his moaning and panting in my ear a sweet confirmation.

“I told you I could do it.” I lapped at the broken skin where I had bitten.

Sylus laughed lowly against my lips, “I didn’t mean to doubt you, kitten.”

The movement of his hips were rhythmic, every thrust sending me deeper into a spiral of love and pleasure. My thoughts were nothing but static, only focusing on the beautiful man in front of me and how good he was capable of making me feel.

His own moans were strangled, groaning praises and muttering sweet nothings into my ear. Sylus thrusted deeply into me, tightly holding my hand as if he thought I and this moment were going to disappear. His eyes would snap open and flutter closed with every movement, relishing in the feeling of our bodies together.

My skin was electric, fireworks setting off in every corner of my being. My mind spun with the addictive feeling and taste of Sylus’ sweet lips on mine, his fingers digging into my hips.

He and I together were not doomed, though us being apart was. We were magnetic, velcro, sworn to be together. We were aligned in ways I wasn’t sure was even possible.

“Tell me again that you love me,” Sylus trapped my head in between his arms, “tell me that this is okay and you want it.” His eyes were misty, his voice hoarse.

“I love you.” I mewled as his thrusts were getting faster, harder.

“I can be good for you, I’ll take care of you, please just let me be yours. Please be mine, let me have this.”

The familiar feeling rose inside, and I knew I was close, “Yes, Sy- I’m all yours.”

“I love you, I love you, I love- Fuck-” His hips snapped against mine at a pace that had me seeing stars, “My girl, you’re my girl. Mine-”

His girl.

I came undone with a loud moan of Sylus’ name, scratching my fingers sharply down his back, arching myself deep against him. His hips stuttered against mine, reaching his own high. Wrapping each other in our arms, trying to pull one another any impossibly closer. So close our souls could touch.

I didn’t just want Sylus, no, I needed him. It wasn’t until I found him that I discovered the large, empty sorrowful space that resided in my life. A space that I was always too scared to confront, a space that he fit into so perfectly.

Some force in this massive universe decided to pair me with him, to make me his, and I was tired of being scared and ignoring it.

“I love you, Sylus.”

(divider by cafekitsune)

tag list!! ty all for the support <3

@crowskitten22 @peacedreamer14 @phantom-101 @evilldentists @ionlypartiallyslay @fealy @sellelqvz @huachengnism @mandysfanfics @shiorihoshino @sinnamon-bunn @knifep-rty @l0bulariia @knifep-rty @yoyach @ononpetitecroissant @syluslittlecrows @beewilko @unbetirtlt @sylus-crow

[holylulusworld]

Gap Filler (3)

Summary: Lack of communication leads to fallout.

Pairing: Walter Marshall x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, Walter being a douche, break-up, mentions of break-ups, amends, angry reader, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of calling someone daddy (nothing happens)

A/N: A short drabble to the miniseries.

Gap Filler (2)

“Baby? Y/N? Please open the door. The cactus is an aggressive beast. It tries to poke holes into my chest. The orchid, well, it won’t make it if it stays with me. You know I’m not good with soft things.”

Walter listens closely, hoping you’ll open the door and let him explain things to you.

“Go away,” you growl on the other side of the door. “I don’t want you anywhere near me!”

He sighs deeply. “Y/N, I know I fucked up big time, but please believe me, I love you. Rachel doesn’t mean anything to me. I lied to hurt you.” He sniffs. “I know it was stupid and selfish of me. It’s just… a woman left me for a job before.”

“Do not use your broken heart crap to excuse that you broke my heart!” You kick the door and curse his name. “Now get off my lawn.”

Walter chuckles. “Uh—your doormat is green, but I don’t think it counts as a lawn.” He comments as you throw insults at him. “Please open the door,” Walter whispers now. “Your neighbor is about to call the cops.”

“You’re a cop too,” you bite back. “Get your badge out and tell them to get fucked! "Annoying assholes!”

“Baby, open the door,” he murmurs your name, pleading with you to let him in. “Do not make me raise my voice.”

You snort. “As if you’d dare to raise your voice, Marshall. I’d love to see you try, fucker!”

“Stop swearing so much in front of our baby!” He tuts. “I can still kick the door open.”

“I don’t think so,” you snort. “It’s a reinforced door. Good luck breaking your back, old man!”

“Old man?” Walter hiccups. “Last time, you called me daddy because of the gray in my beard.”

“Marshall!” You rip the door open to size Walter up. “What are you talking about? That’s not true. I’d never call you that.” Wrinkling your nose, you huff. “That’s just ewww…”

He smirks as you realize your mistake. “Hah, it worked.” Before you can close the door, he stands in the door frame, keeping you from shutting the door again. “Y/N, please talk to me. I won’t go away, and it’s your fault if the poor plants die.”

You glance at the cactus pressed to his chest and the poor orchid he’s about to strangle. “Fine, give me the plants, but you can go home.”

Snatching the orchid out of his hands, you keep an eye on Walter.

“Baby, please let’s talk. I don’t want to go home knowing I lost you forever only because I was a fool,” he murmurs your pet name and gives you puppy dog eyes.

“No, this won’t work on me any longer. You hurt me to feel better.” You angrily wipe your eyes. “You told me you want to be with Rachel because you knew this is my worst fear coming true. How could I ever trust you again, or believe that you love me, Walter?

Walter drops his head and nods. “I used your fear against you. This is unforgivable.” He feels like the worst person ever as you look at him with teary eyes. “I let my hurt pride and feelings get the best out of me.”

“That’s no excuse for abandoning and hurting me. I admitted years ago that I’m scared of losing you to Rachel if she ever comes back. And you,” you growl at him, “used it against me.”

He nods slowly. “I knew the moment your luck was more important to me than mine that I was in love with you. When I got to know that they offered a better position to you, my worst fear came true. I couldn’t bear hearing you say that you will leave me.”

“Even if I’d have considered taking the position—” you sniffle. “Do you honestly believe I would have left you? I would have asked you to come with me, if possible. If not, I’d declined their offer.”

Walter stares at you, eyes filled with unshed tears. You have never seen him cry before. Not in all the years you know him.

“Fine, close the door and give me that cactus before you kill it for real…”

Tags in reblog.

[haveyoumetmythief]

Everything is so fucking difficult all of the time

[gallusrostromegalus]

Move To A Darker Place

This is a story of Man Vs. Machine.

---

Last March, my father attempted to file his Taxes.

My beloved father is a Boomer. Unlike most Boomers, my father is rather handy with technology because he was one of the people that had a not-insignificant hand in Developing a hell of a lot of it. He was studying Computer Science at Cal Poly before the computer science degree existed. I have many fond childhood memories of skipping through the aisles of various electronic and computer part warehouses while Dad described something that either terrified the staff or made them worship him as a God.  He taught himself how to use his smartphone.  Internationally.

So when he saw the option to file digitally with the IRS through the “ID.me” program, he leapt at the chance to celebrate the Federal Government finally entering the Digital Age.

It was all going swimmingly for about six hours, until he was ready to file and the system told him that it needed to verify his identity. 

“Very Well.” said my father, a man unafraid of talking to himself and getting something out of the conversation. “It wouldn’t do for me to get someone else’s return.”

The System told him that it needed him to take a “Digital Image ID”.

a.k.a: A Selfie.

“A-ha!” Dad beams. Dad is very good at taking selfies. He immediately pulled out his phone, snapped one, and tried to upload it.

Please log into your Id.me Account and use the provided app to submit your Digital Image ID. The System clarified.

“Oh. You should have said so.”  Dad pouted, but used his phone to log onto the ID.me account, do the six security verification steps and double-checked that the filing looked the same as it did on the desktop, gave the IRS like nine permissions on his phone, and held up the camera to take his Federal Privacy Invasion Selfie.

Please align your face to the indicated grid. Said The System, pulling up a futuristic green-web-of-polygons approximation.

“Ooh, very Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry would HATE this!” Dad said cheerfully, aligning his face to the grid.  My father is a bit… cavalier, when it comes to matters of personal information and federal government, because he’s been on FBI watchlists since the late 60’s when he was protesting The Vietnam War and Ronald Regan before he’d broken containment. Alas.

Anyway, there is very little information the federal government does not have on him already, but he’s as good at stalking the FBI as they are at stalking him, and had worked out a solution:  He has something approaching a friendship with the local Federal Agent (Some guy named “Larry”. Allegedly), and got Larry hooked on Alternative Histories and Dad’s collection of carefully-researched “there is very likely buried treasure here” stories, and Larry is loath to bother his favorite Historical Fanfiction author too much.

But I digress.

After thinking for a minute, The System came back with an Error Message. Please remove glasses or other facial obstructions.

And here is where the real trouble began.

See, my father wears glasses that do substantially warp the appearance of his face, because he is so nearsighted that he is legally blind without them. His natural focal point is about 4 inches in front of his nose.  While Dad can still take a selfie because he (approximately) knows where his phone is if it’s in his hand, he cannot see the alignment grid.

He should ask someone to take it for him! I hear the audience say. Yes, that would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, but Dad was attempting to do taxes at his residence in Fort Collins, while his immediate family was respectively in Denver, Texas and Canada.  He tried calling our neighbors, who turned out to be in Uganda.

He looked down at the dog, Arwen, and her little criminal paws that can open doorknobs, but not operate cell phones.

She looked back at him, and farted.

“Well, I’ll give it a try, but if it gives me too much trouble, I’ll call Larry, and Larry can call the IRS about it.” Dad told her. 

She continued to watch him. Arwen is an Australian Kelpie (a type of cattle-herding dog), going on 14 years old, deaf as a post and suffering from canine dementia now, but she still retains her natural instinct to Micromanage. She was also trained as a therapy dog, and even if she can’t hear my dad, still recognizes the body language of a man setting himself up for catastrophe.

So, squinting in the late afternoon light next to the back door, Dad attempted to line his face up with a grid he could only sort-of see, and took A Federal Selfie.

The System thought about it for a few moments.

Image Capture Failed: Insufficient Contrast. The System replied. Please move to a darker place.

“...Huh.” Dad frowned. “Alright.”

He moved to the middle of his office, away from the back door, lit only by the house lighting and indirect sunlight, and tried again.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“What?” Dad asked the universe in general.

“Whuff.” Arwen warned him against sunk costs.

Dad ignored her and went into the bathroom, the natural habitat of the selfie. Surely, only being lit by a light fixture that hadn’t been changed since Dad was attempting to warn everyone about Regan would be suitably insufficient lighting for The System.  It took some negotiating, because that bathroom is “Standing Room Only” not “Standing And Holding Your Arms Out In Front Of You Room”.  He ended up taking the selfie in the shower stall.

As The System mulled over the latest attempt, Arwen shuffled over and kicked open the door to watch.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move to a Darker Place.

“Do you mean Spiritually?” Dad demanded.

“Whuff.” Arwen cautioned him again.

Determined to succeed, or at least get a different error message that may give him more information, Dad entered The Downstairs Guest Room.  It is the darkest room in the house, as it is in the basement, and only has one legally-mandated-fire-escape window, which has blinds.  Dad drew those blinds, turned off the lights and tried AGAIN.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move To A Darker Place.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO PHOTOGRAPH MYSELF INSIDE OF A CAVE??” Dad howled. 

“WHUFF!” Arwen reprimanded him from under the pull-out bed in the room. It’s where she attempts to herd everyone when it’s thundering outside, so the space is called her ‘Safety Cave’.

Dad frowned at the large blurry shape that was The Safety Cave.

“Why not?” he asked, the prelude to many a Terrible Plan.  With no small amount of spiteful and manic glee, Dad got down onto the floor, and army-crawled under the bed with Arwen to try One Last Time. Now in near-total darkness, he rolled on his side to be able to stretch his arms out, Arwen slobber-panting in his ear, and waited for the vague green blob of the Facial grid to appear.

This time, when he tapped the button, the flash cctivated.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Dad shouted, dropping the phone and rubbing his eyes and cursing to alleviate the pain of accidentally flash-banging himself. Arwen shuffled away from him under the bed, huffing sarcastically at him.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“MOTHERFU- hang on.” Dad squinted.  The System sounded strange. Distant and slightly muffled.

Dad squinted really hard, and saw the movement of Arwen crawling out from under the bed along the phone’s last known trajectory.

“ARWEN!” Dad shouted, awkwardly reverse-army crawling out from under the bed, using it to get to his feet and searching for his glasses, which had fallen out of his pocket under the bed, so by the time he was sighted again, Arwen had had ample time to remove The Offending Device.

He found her out in the middle of the back yard, the satisfied look of a Job Well Done on her face. She did not have the phone. 

“Arwen.” Dad glared. It’s a very good glare. Dad was a teacher for many years and used it to keep his class in order with sheer telepathically induced embarrassment, and his father once glared a peach tree into fecundity.  

Arwen regarded him with the casual interest a hurricane might regard a sailboat tumbling out of its wake. She is a force of nature unto herself and not about to be intimidated by a half-blind house ape.  She also has cataracts and might not be able to make out the glare.

“I GIVE UP!” Dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the office to write to the IRS that their selfie software sucks ass. Pleased that she had gotten her desired result, Arwen followed him in.

To Dad’s immense surprise, the computer cheerfully informed him that his Federally Secure Selfie had been accepted, and that they had received and were now processing his return!

“What the FUCK?” Dad glared. “Oh well. If I’ve screwed it up, Larry can call me.”

---

I bring this up because recently, Dad received an interesting piece of mail.

It was a letter from the IRS, addressed to him, a nerve-wracking thing to recessive at the best of times.  Instead of a complaint about Dad’s Selfie Skills, it was a letter congratulating him on using the new ID.me System.  It thanked him for his help and expressed hopes he would use it again next year, and included the selfie that The System had finally decided to accept.

“You know, my dad used to complain about automation.” Dad sighed, staring at the image. “Incidentals my boy!  My secretary saves the state of California millions of dollars a year catching small errors before they become massive ones! He’d say. Fought the human resources board about her pay every year.  I used to think he was overestimating how bad machines were and underestimating human error, but you know? He was right.”

He handed me the image.

My father was, technically, in the image.  A significant amount of the bottom right corner is taken up by the top of his forehead and silver hair.  Most of the image, the part with the facial-recognition markers on it, was composed of Arwen’s Alarmed and Disgusted Doggy face.

“Oh no!” I cackled. “Crap, does this mean you have to call the IRS and tell them you’re not a dog?”

“Probably.” Dad sighed. “I know who I’m gonna bother first though.” he said, taking out his phone (Dad did find his phone a few hours after Arwen absconded with it when mom called and the early spinach started ringing). 

“Hey Larry!” Dad announced to the local federal agent. “You’re never gonna believe this. My dog filed my taxes!”

Larry considered this for a moment. “Is this the dog that stole my sandwich? Out of my locked  car?” he asked suspiciously.

“The very same.” Dad grinned.

“Hm. Clever Girl.” Federal Agent Larry sighed. “I figured it was only a matter of time before she got into tax fraud.”

---

I'm a disabled artist making my living writing these stories. If you enjoy my stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Book on Patreon. Thank you!

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water (Pt. I)

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: One of the newest residents’ very first doppelgänger comes in, trying to sway you into to letting them in. Will you..?

pt.II

art credit (twt: loafuu_chii)

warning: 18+ content

“…what’s the story behind your um… ears(?)” You ask the doppelgänger before you. It was a clone of one of your favorite neighbors actually, her name was Maria.

A woman around your age that you became really close friends with over the few months of you working here.

“@&! !$?&” The doppelgänger let out a series of sounds.

“right, so give me one second” You press the bright red button next to the window and the steel blinds shut with a blaring alarm sound.

You call D.D.D. and they clean up their mess per usual. You once again, you were just thankful you didn’t have to work on that side of the glass.

You check your wrist watch, and happily sigh at the fact that you only had one more hour left to work.

“ mmm, someone’s eager to go home i see” A familiar voice speaks up.

“oh, Mr. Francis” You give the man a polite grin. He gave you a sly one in return. You knew it wasn’t him off the bat. Francis was usually shy towards you, making you want to tease him into blushing whenever you saw him.

Well, you suppose you could kill two birds with one stone. Flirt with the doppelgänger of your crush, and have some entertainment.

“how are you pretty girl” He asks, sliding an I.D. and sheet through the slot.

You examine the documents and identification and beam a smile up at him.

“the date on the I.D. is a little expired hun” You declare. He lets out a small chuckle and leans a little toward the glass.

“mmm, been busy with the milk business, love. must’ve slipped my mind to renew it” He replied. His eyes were low but he still held his sly grin. You leaned back in your chair, with a bored look on your face.

“you’re not like my Francis” You huff and tilt your head with a disappointed look.

His grin faltered and he stepped closer. His breathing had quickened a bit and he took off his hat. “who knows, i could be better” He suggests.

Now that his confidence had depleted a little, you were growing bored of him. You checked the time again and you had 45 minutes left.

“well i’ve gotta get you moving now. it was nice to see such a handsome face though, so thank you” You beam and reach for the button

“you don’t want to do this, trust me” He states with a warning tone. This wasn’t unusual, getting threats after realizing they’re doppelgängers, but being that this one was this aware… they must be evolving.

“and why would i trust you?” You ask out of curiosity.

“i mean look at me” He smirks, one arm leaned against the top of the window. His irises turned from their chocolate brown and into an empty pure white.

“hm” You nod and press the button.

“(Y/N)!” He roared with what you assume was his fist banging the glass.

You call D.D.D. and wait for them to clean their mess, again.

The steel blind begins to lift and you sit back in your seat, checking your watch again but noticed the new pink lighting that shone in.

You furrow your eyebrows and look up in horror as you see blood streaks on the window in thick, and dripping amounts. You jump out of your chair and put your back against the wall.

About 5 D.D.D. workers were piled up, bloody and battered in the corner of the room, and there the doppelgänger was.

Staring at you.

His eyes were low, his shirt was torn, revealing his pecs and the start of his abdomen. He was panting with his (surprisingly still) neat hair and an almost psychotic expression.

“oh no…” He starts with a laugh, still breathing heavily.

“what did you do..?” You cover your mouth with your hand.

“it’s what you did. you got me all riled up.”

He looks down for a brief moment and you swear you hear a zip. He holds his tie and the end of his tattered shirt in his mouth and looks up at you with knitted eyebrows.

His breath fogging up the window as he asks you. Looking like a poor starving puppy. “will you let me in now…? I need your help…” He slightly groaned.

“…what. the. fuck.”

[rosiereveries]

Retired!JohnPrice, who, after retiring, bought a cabin in a small town where everyone knew everyone. He was a stranger, and people talked about him all the time. They wanted to know where he was from, why he came to their town, and what he wanted. He didn’t have a lot to do in his free time. He restored the cabin he stayed in; the roof was leaking, he needed to buy new kitchen supplies, and the attic needed good cleaning. The previous owner left all their stuff there. John came to the conclusion that the previous owner loved to read. There were books everywhere. The old bedroom had one huge bookshelf filled with romance books. Until now, he didn’t even know that there were so many books with hot men on the cover. He felt sorry to just throw them away; the books were in good shape, and they could make someone very happy.

That was how he found you. After searching the town for a charity shop or something, he found a library where you worked. You greeted him with a smile, and he was enchanted. He explained to you that he would like to donate books to the library and asked if you could help him with the process. You agreed that after work, you would visit him and make a list of the books he had. When you arrived at his cabin, he told you that he had made dinner, and he would love if you could join him. It had been a while since someone had cooked for you, so you accepted his offer. After dinner, you went through the books in his bedroom. You blushed the whole time, looking up the titles of the books, and John didn’t make your job easier. He read aloud some parts of the books, each scene steamier than the previous. After you were done, he drove you home. He didn’t want a pretty girl like you to go home in the dark. He knew that the town was safe, but he needed to be sure that you got home okay. John promised that he would bring the books to the library tomorrow and help you with them. The whole evening, he tried to get your number so he could ask you out, and now he had the perfect chance for it. He said that he needed it to call you tomorrow when he would come. On the drive back home, he thought about how enchanting it was to meet you.

You felt the same. You had butterflies in your stomach since the moment he walked through the library door. The same old tired, lonely place vanished when you saw his face. You felt like a schoolgirl having a crush on the older boys, but now you felt like he might have a crush on you too. You were blushing the whole way home, hoping that he would ask you out. You eagerly awaited the whole morning for when he would text you that he was on the way. After lunch, you started to lose hope that he would show up. He told you that he would come before your lunch break so that he could take you out for lunch. You felt stupid; you didn’t ask for his number, and now you had no way to contact him. Yes, you could go to his house, but you were not that desperate, and it would be weird if you just showed up. You tried to distract yourself with work, but it didn’t stop your wandering thoughts. What if he had someone, and you were too flirty, and now, he didn’t want to talk to you? Maybe he was just a friendly neighbor who wanted to do something nice for the community. Maybe you just imagined the spark that was between you and him. You hoped that this was the very first page and not where the storyline ended.

Just before closing time, you heard the bell above the door, and you wondered who could come this late. It was John, who immediately started to apologize. He said that his bathroom pipes had broken, and the water flooded the entire bathroom. He had to get it fixed quickly, and it was so much work that he didn’t have time to come up and see you. At first, you didn’t believe him, but after he came closer, you could see that his hands were dirty, and his pants still had some water stains. You invited him to your place, and he drove you there, still trying to apologize. He said that he would make it up to you, take you on a proper date, buy you flowers, and take you somewhere romantic where you could have your first date. When you arrived at your place, you cooked dinner for both of you. He spent the evening with you, asking so many questions about your job, your life, and other things. John insisted on leaving just before midnight. You walked him out to his car, and when he thanked you for the dinner, you kissed him. He was too much of a gentleman to kiss a girl on the very first night, so you had to take control into your own hands. After the kiss, it didn’t take much to convince him to come back to your house and eventually to your bed.

Masterlist

[yeetmyboi]

Picture this: 🌾☀️

Retired!Simon who takes up to running a ranch in order to keep himself busy as retirement isn’t all cracked up as it should be. Especially with someone who always needs to have a goal at the end of the day.

You move into the dilapidated cabin that skirts the edge of his property. But as you’re moving in late at night, you accidentally hit a post to his fence. You figure you’ll tell the neighbor in the morning rather than the middle of the night and head to bed.

Little do you know, your ‘accident’ causes some of his animals to escape and he’s up before dawn trying to round them up. By the time he’s done, the sun is up and he’s fuming.

Simon storms ups to your door, pounding at it till you answer. His intent to scold you is stalled by the sight when you do, rendering him speechless for a moment. You open the door, dressed in a skimpy silk robe with damp hair and glistening skin, looking every bit like a city slicker who moved to the countryside on a whim.

Simon struggles to keep his eyes up and not on the bit of skin showing underneath your robe. He can feel himself getting hard at just the thought. God, it’s been years since he’s seen a gorgeous soft bird like you…

Meanwhile, you hold an annoyed pout that pushes out your plump lips as you look up at him. As he stays silent, your arms cross over your chest and you arch an eyebrow. “Well?”

You were all for owning up to your fault but when Simon storms over like that, you’re not too keen on fessing up just yet. So you claim to know nothing about it. Shrugging it off and threatening to call the cops if he doesn’t leave.

Simon just laughs at your fiery demeanor and even admires your quick wit. He agrees to leave, for now. Just so he can snag the footage of you hitting said fence post and watch you flounder.

Oh, don’t worry love, he’ll forgive you. Long as you help him fix the fence and any other ‘problems’ you’ve caused.

banner by the lovely @/cafekitsune ᡣ𐭩

[withahappyrefrain]

https://www.tumblr.com/withahappyrefrain/756666693791760384/yes-tyler-needing-a-handblow-job-before-going-on?source=share

okay listen 👀 tyler dry humping you against the side of his car before getting to work

Hi, can I kiss your brain? It's beautiful. We got some good ole porn without plot smut here folks.

Having no neighbors within a three mile radius has many perks.

Halloween is spent watching movies, not handing out candy at the door. You can host a party but don't have to hear someone else do the same. No HOA means you're free to paint your door whatever color you damn well please.

It also meant you could grind against your husband's denim covered thigh against his truck.

It started out as a kiss. A goodbye kiss, like one you had given Tyler so many times before he headed out to chase a developing storm.

Okay, yes, it was more heated than sweet this time around. More desperate than gentle. Your hands gripping his sun kissed hair instead of resting against his broad chest.

Who could blame you? Prior to getting a call from Boone, you and Tyler were underneath your bedsheets, his talented mouth having just started to unravel you.

Hopes that Boone was calling to fire off a new experiment were quickly dashed when he called a second time, in between Tyler's phone going off with text notifications, no doubt from the rest of the crew.

The cluster of storm cells had the potential to develop into something big, which Tyler swears is the only reason why he got out of bed and began to dress.

You had opted to stay in the baby blue night slip, knowing you weren't the one on the chase and it was Tyler's favorite.

Another perk of having no neighbors meant you didn't need to put on a robe in order to walk Tyler out to his truck.

So yes, if you were in a courtroom, facing trial for trying to tempt Tyler, the evidence would be overwhelmingly against you. But he truly started it, those large hands of his gripping your waist so he could pull you back for another kiss.

You could never leave it at just one kiss. He knows this. All you wanted was to simply be as close as humanly possible. After all, how else would you be able to inhale his captivating scent of oak and sandalwood?

He has your left knee pinned against his hip, allowing you to feel his denim cladded erection against your thigh.

"Fuck," his voice is breathless as his hips jerk upwards. A tornado is nothing, but feeling your soft body in his hands is enough to nearly bring Tyler to his knees.

Your mouth swallows his needy grunts, a hand squeezing his clothed erection, chest pressed against his.

"Ty," your nickname for him comes out in the form of a weak, needy whine, "Want ya s'bad."

"I know, but I gotta-fuck!" He hissed upon feeling his clothed erection against your bare cunt.

That, you absolutely did on purpose.

He abruptly stopped, hastily opening the passenger door. "Bend over," he hissed, pointing to the now available seat.

You quickly oblige, toes curling at the sound of his belt buckle clicking.

Having no neighbors mean you can be as loud as you want. Who could truly care about a noise complaint when the head of his cock was brushing against your clit?

When his cock sinks in, you breathe a sigh of relief, body welcoming the pleasurable stretch. Tyler always makes you feel so full, all you can think about is just him and his ridiculously amazing cock.

Now that should be investigated.

Thanks to your earlier, albeit interrupted, romp in bed, you're ready for him, allowing Tyler to quickly build up a rhythm. It's hurried, his thrusts harsh and sloppy. And yet, you can help but cling to the passenger seat

The sound of his hips slamming into yours can barely be heard over the moans that fall effortlessly from your mouth, along with the grunts Tyler grits out between his pearly white teeth.

"S'fuckin tight f'me," He groans, "Love you s'much. Can't wait t'come home t'you and this ah perfect pussy."

He's addicted to you. Your soft skin, the way your ass jiggles with each thrust, the shameless moans that fall from your kiss bitten lips. How soft you are, how tightly you cling onto him.

Tyler seriously considers calling out, making up some excuse, hell, even just being honest with his crew.

Who could be upset at a man for wanting to spend more time with his wife?

But he also knew you wouldn't let him. Ever since college, you knew of his dreams and how badly he wanted to follow them. You also trusted that he would always find a way back to you.

"Fuck, pretty girl. Need you to cum f'me, think you can do that?" One of his large hands reaches down to where you two connect, long fingers drawing circles on your clit.

You can barely keep your head up, nodding weakly as your walls clench around him. All you can do is take him, all you can do is let yourself go into the pleasure fueled haze you were craving.

He leans over as he feels your release, stubble scratching against your bare shoulder.

"Atta girl, feel s'good," his words are beginning to slur, signaling how close he is. You reach back, hand finding his dark blonde locks and giving the strands a harsh tug.

The whine Tyler lets out is music to your ears. It just takes one, two, three more sharp tugs for his hips to stutter, his release trailing behind yours.

His body covers yours and for a moment you two simply stay like that, breathing heavily.

"Hey, com're," His voice is now soft, gentle, his longer fingers cupping your chin so he could turn your face towards his.

Thin pink lips crash onto yours, the gesture a stark contrast to what occurred several minutes ago.

"Love ya," he confesses between kisses. Despite having heard it multiple times a day, it still makes your heart flutter.

"Love ya too cowboy," you smile against his lips, "But you should get goin'. Don't wanna be late."

Tyler shrugged, "You know how long it takes them to get ready. Besides, what kind of husband would I be if I didn't help my wife clean up?"

If Boone asks if you were the reason Tyler was an hour late, you would happily plead guilty.

[dirtyvulture]

The Maid

Socialite!Wanda Maximoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

Maid!Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Rich!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Word count: 4663

Summary: You are married to a wealthy socialite, but your newly hired housemaid doesn’t approve of the marriage.

AN: I was reading a book series and got this idea. Enjoy!

*Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say, poking at the sad bowl of cereal before you.

“Why not?” Your wife frowns at you from across the kitchen.

“Because we’re doing fine! We don’t need any extra help,” you emphasize.

“You’re not the one stuck at home all day cleaning the house and cooking all the meals,” she snaps. Your eyes shift to the bowl of cereal you’d had to make yourself because she was too busy at her pilates class to cook you anything more substantial. 

“This house is huge compared to our old one,” your wife continues. “And if you’re not going to help me around here, I’m going to hire someone who will.” Annoyance burns in your chest because you run your own company full-time, and your wife inherited all her wealth from her parents and hadn’t worked a real job in her entire life. “Besides, Steve’s the one who recommended her and he said she’s been really helpful to his family.”

“You seem to spend a lot of time talking to Steve,” you note, although you feel guilty for calling out your neighbor across the street. You’d spoken to him a few times and he seemed like a decent guy, but you weren’t stupid enough to not notice how often your wife would find her way over to his lawn multiple times a week.

“You’re at work all day and don’t answer your phone half the time,” she says. “You don’t expect me to stay in this gigantic house all by myself doing chores, do you? I’m not a house servant, Y/N.”

“No, of course you’re not,” you apologize. You glance at the Omega watch that had been an engagement gift from your wife. “Hey, I have to get going to work now.” Dutifully, you bring your bowl over to the sink and stop to kiss your wife on the way there. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

“Remember, the pool guy is coming at noon so you need to be back before then,” she says. “I don’t want to be left by myself with him.”

“Okay, I’ll try.” You’re not sure why she’s so nervous around the pool technician; he was about 30 years older than the both of you and had been very sweet and professional when he came to give you a quote for the maintenance.  

“No, don’t try. Do it,” she insists.

You try to hold in your sigh. “Yes, dear.”

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

Natasha curses to herself as she drags her vacuum cleaner and basket of cleaning supplies up the sidewalk to your home. Your wife–Mrs. L/N, as she had asked Natasha to call her, while you had no problem being on a first name basis with her–had told Natasha she didn’t want her parking in front of your house, requiring her to park around the corner. Which wouldn’t have been a significant issue except it meant Natasha had to lug everything to your house every time she stopped by.

“Do you need any help, Nat?” Steve Rogers, the friendly neighbor whom she also worked for, waved at her from across the street.

“No, no, I’m fine!” she squeaks, not wanting to bother him. But Steve, ever the gentleman, runs over anyway and she has no choice but to turn over her supplies to him. 

“You know, you can always just park in front of my house,” he offers, bundling the items in his muscular arms.

“That’s okay,” Natasha says. “Mrs. L/N made it very clear that as much as she needs my help, she doesn’t want people to know I’m here.”

Steve doesn’t argue with her and walks her to your front door. “Well, if you ever need anything–”

“Natasha! You’re late!” The front door swings open and Natasha finds herself face-to-face with your wife. “Oh, hello, Steven.” She flips her hair over her shoulder and bats her eyelashes at him. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

“I was just helping Natasha with her things,” Steve explains.

“Oh, don’t worry about her. She can handle herself. Right, Natasha?” She turns a judgmental eye on Natasha.

“I appreciate the help, Steve,” is all Natasha says.

“You’re welcome. See you both later!” He quickly jogs back to his home. 

Mrs. L/N ushers Natasha into the house. “I left a grocery list on the kitchen counter for you. If you can’t find something, please call me before you pick any substitutions,” she instructs briskly. “I have to go out to the HOA meeting, but Y/N should be home by noon before the pool man comes. Do not let him into the yard if Y/N or me are not home yet, understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Natasha nods her head, fighting the urge not to roll her eyes at this lady.

“Good.” She leaves towards the garage and Natasha can hear the purr of her Mercedes starting up.

It was Natasha’s second week working for your family, and she hated nearly every second of it–mostly because of your spoiled, bratty wife. But the few times Natasha had met you, she thought you were as kind and charming as could be (and very nice to look at). She wondered how the two of you had gotten together in the first place and what you saw in your wife. She was one of the bossiest clients Natasha had ever had, and Natasha had seen her be not much nicer to you. Plus, she was definitely hitting on Steve, but Natasha knows he wouldn’t cheat on his wife with yours.

She dumps her supplies in the foyer, then goes into the kitchen to find the grocery list. It only takes a single glance to know that your wife is totally fucking with her–what the hell is a rambutan? Natasha sighs loudly, wishing there were someone around to hear her distress. As much as she wants to quit working for your family, she needs the money. And she was still so new to the business, she couldn’t afford to make any bad impressions. 

With another sigh, she balls the grocery list into her fist and heads back out.

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

Natasha returns from her grocery trip just in time to see you pull into the garage in your bright green luxury sports car she doesn’t even recognize the manufacturer’s logo of. You get out and wave to her and she smiles back, almost forgetting the awful phone call she had to make to your wife when she searched the entire store and still couldn’t locate the rambutans (she ended up having to make a separate trip to Whole Foods for them). 

“Hi, Natasha!” you say, running down the driveway to help her with the grocery bags.

“Oh, don’t worry about these,” Natasha says, trying to swat your hands away. “It’s my job to take them into the house–”

“No, let me help,” you insist, scooping up four bags in one hand in one go. “Oh! Rambutans. These are my favorite. Thank you for finding them.” 

Instantly, Natasha wants to take back all the curses she had put on the spiky red fruit. “It was nothing,” she lies, making a mental note to buy out the store’s entire stock for you the next time she goes.

With your help, it takes half the amount of time to get all the groceries in the house. You also insist on helping her put everything away, showing her the proper drawers in the fridge for the fruit and vegetables versus the meat, and where the cereals went in the pantry. Natasha is beyond grateful for you; she knows your wife would have happily stood there and watched her struggle, then loudly criticized her for not knowing better.

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, her hand inadvertently brushing yours when you pass her the last bag of apples. She withdraws from you almost too quickly, her skin hot where you touched her, but you don’t seem to notice, distracted by the ringing of the doorbell. 

“That must be Stan.” You dash off to meet the pool man. 

Natasha fills the dishwasher as much as she can and starts in, then goes to finish washing the oddly-shaped pots and pans that didn’t fit in the sink. The kitchen window looks out to your yard that is probably bigger than the footprint of her entire apartment complex. The pool has two different levels, but both are filled with a suspicious green water. You’re standing poolside talking to Stan, an older gentleman whom Natasha personally knew to be very kind from her few interactions with him when he conducted work on the neighborhood pool’s. 

She’s so busy looking at you, fantasizing about a life where this big house could be hers, with a doting partner who would take care of her and raise a family with her, she doesn’t hear the front door opening until she hears the unholy screech from your wife.

“Natasha, what are you doing?” she yells, hurrying over and snatching the soapy sponge right out of Natasha’s gloved hand.

“Um–the dishes? They didn’t all fit in the dishwasher–”

“You turned on the dishwasher?” Her eyes grow wide and her mouth drops like Natasha’s just confessed to a murder. “Didn’t I tell you we don’t run the dishwasher before seven p.m.?” Natasha is certain she’s never heard this instruction before in her life and watches as she rushes over to turn off the dishwasher mid-cycle and throw it open. “Also, you didn’t pack this correctly, you definitely could’ve fit those pots in here.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll rearrange it now,” Natasha says, trying not to get flustered. Surely your wife wouldn’t fire her over such a minor transgression, would she?

“Is Stan here yet?” she asks, but before Natasha can answer, she is interrupted by a shout and a splash. Both of them crane their necks to look out the window, where they can see Stan floating facedown in the pool. You’re kicking your shoes off and throwing your phone onto the lawn before you run up to the pool’s edge and dive in with a form that would rival an Olympic swimmer’s. Your wife screams and darts towards the back door, Natasha following right behind her.

“Y/N! What are you doing?”

“He fell in!” you answer, coughing out water as you loop your arms under the elderly man and kick back towards the stairs. “He just zoned out when he was talking to me and suddenly tipped over into the pool. I think he’s having a seizure.”

“I’ll call 911!” Natasha offers, not wanting to be as useless as your wife. She struggles to get her phone out of her pocket and punches in the number with shaky fingers.

Your wife hovers by the pool stairs, making no move to assist you as you struggle to drag the old man out, clearly weighed down by the water drenching both of your clothes. Stan is holding himself in a position so stiff it reminds Natasha of a mannequin. 

“Ugh, don’t get me wet, Y/N!” your wife complains as the brackish water sprays everywhere.

“I’m trying not to!” you snap, gently laying Stan on the grass.  

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” a dispatcher picks up.

“Hello? Yes, I’m at 2800 Sherwood Drive. There’s a man here who fell into the pool and we just got him out, but he’s having some kind of medical episode,” Natasha says, putting her phone on speaker. The dispatcher asks if he’s breathing and you confirm. 

“Can roll him to his side and stabilize his head?”

Without hesitation, you peel off your shirt and roll it into a soggy ball, gently tucking it under the man’s head like a makeshift pillow. Natasha tries not to stare at your nicely sculpted torso, highlighted further by the water droplets on your skin, but her face burns in shame when she sees your wife glaring at her ogling.

“Okay, his head is stabilized!” you call out.

“Perfect, emergency services are two minutes away.”

“Thank you.”

It’s a big scene at the house by the time the ambulance pulls up. Your wife eventually covers you up with a towel, but you’re insistent on waiting outside for Stan to be carefully loaded into the ambulance before you finally allow your wife to usher you back into the house, still dripping water everywhere.

“Thank you for the help today, Natasha,” you say, reaching out to give her shoulder a gentle pat as you walk by her towards the house. Natasha doesn’t even know how to respond but nods furiously and mumbles that “she didn’t help much.”

“You can go now, Natasha,” your wife says curtly, and Natasha doesn’t question her and practically flees the premise.

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

It’s been a few weeks since the pool incident and Natasha is barely able to hold onto her sanity with the never-ending list of ridiculous tasks from your wife. When she holds a fundraiser meeting for a charity Natasha is sure she made up on her own, she calls on Natasha as her personal servant, forcing her to serve a collection of the snobbiest women in the neighborhood. Maybe I should take up meditation, Natasha thinks to herself as she prepares a third pitcher of iced tea because the first two “did not have the right balance of sugar to tea,” according to your wife, despite that Natasha had put in exactly one-third cup of sugar as requested.

Natasha doesn’t see you much around the house anymore, and she wonders if your wife purposely scheduled her around your work hours, or told you to stay away from her. She wants to ask you if there were any updates about Stan’s condition (there was no way she was going to get that information from your wife). She missed hearing your voice and seeing your smile…wait.

She shakes her head–she shouldn’t be thinking about you like that. You’re her employer and you’re married (to a bitch). It would be entirely inappropriate and dangerous to pursue you, so she would just have to make do with ogling you from afar. Besides, a lot of her clients did not show her respect, likely due to the nature of her job, so just because you were courteous and respectful towards her, didn’t mean you felt a specific way about her.

“You know, Y/N used to be fat.” Natasha startles when your wife walks up behind her. She almost drops the picture frame she’d been dusting of the two of you on a beach, holding hands as you walked towards the sunset in the background.

“Excuse me?” Natasha asks. 

“Fat and poor,” Mrs. L/N adds, much to Natasha’s horror. 

“That’s an awful thing to say about your partner,” Natasha says.

She shrugs. “I don’t want anything to be sugarcoated for you. All of this–” She gestures around to the grandiose-ness of the house, and points to a more recent photo of you, where you’re carrying your wife in your arms, the bulge of your biceps and wideness of your shoulders stretching out your shirt. “–was not a thing when we first started dating. I was there when Y/N had nothing and was no one.”

“Okay.” Natasha wonders why she’s acting like she did you a favor, when you are clearly the catch in the relationship. But then it suddenly dawns on her the reason she’s saying this is because she knows Natasha might have a small crush on you.

“Y/N would never leave me, because I was there from the beginning,” Mrs. L/N says loftily.

“Of course,” Natasha says, fearing she has made a terrible mistake. “Y/N must be very lucky to have you.”

“You have no idea,” your wife smirks. “So let me be a reminder to keep things professional in my house. I’d hate for you to lose your job here. As far as I know, this is the only neighborhood that employs you, and your reputation is everything, isn’t it? One bad review could spoil the whole bunch, and you’d be off having to peddle your services elsewhere.” Icy fear pits at the bottom of Natasha’s stomach. “That is, if the police don’t pick you up first.”

“What are you talking about?” Natasha whispers, even though she knows exactly what Mrs. L/N is talking about. She had been foolish to assume her past would never follow her, but how could your wife have found out? Clint had assured her that with a new name and a new location, she’d be untraceable. 

“Because they’d have to arrest you from stealing Y/N away from me,” Mrs. L/N laughs shrilly. Natasha chuckles nervously, although she was certain adultery was not a punishable offense in the state. “But I’m just joking. That would never happen, right?”

“Never,” Natasha promises, hoping her cover will stay hidden for now. 

“Good.”

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

“How was your day at work, honey?”

“Busy,” you grunt, moodily poking at the chicken pot pie Natasha had made before she went home. The food tastes good–it’s better than anything your wife has ever cooked, you think privately, but you don’t have much of an appetite. The end of the financial quarter was rapidly approaching and it had become extremely apparent to you that the profits of your company were not outweighing the expenses for the third quarter in a row. You were digging yourself a bigger and bigger grave, dipping into your personal investments to pay your way out of debt. It was the most stressful period of your life, with no relief in sight, and your wife wouldn’t understand the pressure.

“Sorry to hear that,” she says, although her words don’t come across as very genuine. “My day wasn’t so great either. I got into an argument earlier with Mrs. Harkness at the HOA meeting.” Your wife clicks her tongue. “Some of these women will go to war over their lawn decorations, I swear.”

A jab bubbles on the tip of your tongue; was she really trying to compare an HOA meeting to your very real, very stressful job running a business? But you stay quiet, shoveling another spoonful of pot pie into your mouth.

“Where’s Natasha?” you ask. Usually she stayed around for dinner (not that your wife would let her sit at the same table as you), but you hadn’t seen her in the house for a while.

“I ran out of time today, so I sent her out to grab some things for tomorrow,” she answers. When Natasha had first been hired, you had been under the impression that she was exclusively a housekeeper, helping with all the household chores your wife couldn’t complete. But you had heard about her running grocery trips and waiting on your wife and her friends during meetings, turning Natasha into more of a personal assistant than anything. You hoped she was okay with that; you knew how demanding your wife could be sometimes.

“Oh, okay.” You finish your helping of pot pie in silence, then go to place your plate in the dishwasher, before going into the bedroom to retire for the night. As you’re washing your face in the sink, you hear your wife pad up behind her.

“Sorry you’ve been really stressed lately,” she says, rubbing her hand up and down your arm. 

“It’s not your fault,” you respond, drying your face on a towel, going back into the bedroom to find your pajamas so you can take a shower.

“Y/N.” Your wife stops you as you’re searching through the dresser for your pajamas. When you look at her, she’s eyeing you with her bottom lip between her teeth. She struts towards you, slowly sinking to her knees and looking up at you. “Maybe I can do something to make you feel better?” 

With you being so busy with work and her busy with the new move, the two of you hardly had time for each other. Plus, your wife tended to be on the particular side and never seemed to be in the mood if you initiated. It was a little frustrating sometimes, but you found ways to cope and besides, it did make the times she was ready for you all the more enjoyable.

She pulls down your pants, palming at your boxers and causing you to groan. You unbutton your shirt as you feel your body start to heat up and let it slide off your shoulders. 

“Fuck, don’t tease me,” you grunt when she leans forward and nibbles on the exposed flesh of your thigh. 

“You need to savor the moment,” she says, although you can tell she’s just as impatient when she hooks her fingers into the waistband of your boxers and draws them down to the floor. Your heavy cock bobs out, slapping against your abs before your wife grabs onto it and brings it to her mouth. 

“Fuck, baby,” you moan, tipping your head back when you feel her lips wrap around your cock. You wrap your hand in her hair, pumping your hips forward to sink your length into the heat of her throat. She grips onto your thighs to steady herself, the faintest of choking noise escaping her. You grunt in satisfaction, thrusting a little harder until the tip of your cock bumps the back of her throat. She whines louder, but doesn’t pull away, and your knees are practically shaking at the sight of her deepthroating all of you.  

“You’re doing so well,” you praise and her cheeks flush red. “Are you gonna let me finish in your mouth?” you ask, and she nods in response, the movement causing a burst of pre-cum to leak out of your cock. You stroke a stray hair out of her face so you can look into her eyes when you finish. “That’s my good girl.”

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

Natasha lets herself into your home, juggling three heavy bags that she’s pretty sure are cutting off the circulation to her fingers. She passes by the kitchen, confused to see it empty; when she had left the two of you were just settling down to eat. She puts the bags by the foot of the table, recalling the time Mrs. L/N had screamed at her for putting “dirty outside bags” on the place where you ate. She wouldn’t make that same mistake again.

Checking her phone, Natasha sees that your wife had sent her a text less than five minutes ago.

Natasha sighs. It had already been a long day, but she wasn’t given an ounce of leeway. She knows better than to walk away from an unfinished task (especially around your wife), so she trudges up the stairs and turns into the guest room. Hopefully her presence can go unnoticed, and your wife will magically find the folded clothes long after Natasha is gone. 

There are a total of three shirts and a pair of jeans left to fold. Natasha knows it would be too much to ask your wife to do on her own. She grits her teeth and folds the clothes, taking the better part of a minute, then looks around and realizes she doesn’t remember where she put the laundry basket. 

Maybe she had already brought it to the master bedroom, but she knew she couldn’t just leave it on the guest bed, or your wife would probably fire her. Natasha gathers up the clothes and walks down the hall to the master bedroom, but freezes in her tracks when she hears noises coming out of the bedroom.

Moaning noises, specifically.

Natasha can’t stop herself as she moves closer to the door, positioning herself to peer through the crack in between the door and the wall. She sees your wife on her knees, her head bobbing against your waist as you stand there, half-naked, moaning and thrusting your hips forward.

Natasha feels like she can’t breathe, totally shocked and embarrassed to have caught the two of you in a moment. She has a strange sense that your wife had set her up like this on purpose, but the thought quickly dissipates as she finds herself moving closer to the door.

“That’s my good girl.”

Natasha’s stomach flips when she hears you say this, even though it isn’t directed to her. But maybe one day it could be. 

She’s practically pressed up against the door, the fear of being caught burning away in her eagerness to keep watching you. The way the muscles in your stomach and thighs flex as your hips roll in a sinful rhythm. Natasha is almost ashamed at how fast she feels the arousal building in her own stomach.

You grunt louder and slow down as you seem to near release. Natasha can’t help but wonder what you must taste like and if she could even fit you down her throat. Your wife seems to be struggling with your size, but Natasha would do everything in her power to make you happy and not let any drop go to waste.

Without warning, your wife removes you from her mouth. Both you and Natasha gasp–you probably in frustration, and Natasha because she’s shocked at how big you are. Your cock is shiny with saliva and pre-cum and is so hard it looks like it’s about to burst.

“I didn’t finish,” you whine as your wife stands up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She puts her hand on your chest and pushes you back until you stumble onto the bed.

“I know. But I don’t want you to finish in my mouth, I want you to finish inside me.”

“Oh.” Your wife takes off her pants and climbs onto you.

Natasha knows how wrong it is for her to stand there and continue watching. She should’ve left a long time ago. But somehow, she knows your wife set her up to see this, and instead of running away in shame, Natasha is totally absorbed and her obsession with you only skyrockets. 

The headboard creaks against the wall as your wife rides you, both of you moaning in unison. Natasha’s eyes are stuck on you, trying to memorize your body’s reactions and wondering if she’d ever be the cause of them one day. You tilt your head back into the pillows, your back arching off the mattress, your hands wrapped around your wife’s waist as you thrust up into her. 

“I’m ready. I’m gonna cum,” you announce breathlessly.

Natasha hopes you’ll say those words to her one day. But she turns away as you finish, scolding herself for her unprofessional and frankly creepy behavior. She drops the folded clothes to the floor, knowing your wife will eventually find them and know of their origin. Maybe she’ll get fired for this; if anything, it’d be for the better. She doesn’t trust herself to be around you anymore–not that she’d ever be so bold as to make a move and disrespect your marriage, but she’d never be able to look at you the same way again.

She quickly pads down the stairs and leaves the house, the emptiness in her heart and core almost reaching a painful point.

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

You jerk your hips up a final time as you cum, dropping back onto the bed exhausted and spent. 

“Hmm, that was fun,” your wife pants against your neck, and you wrap your arm around her tightly, pulling her closer to your body. 

“We can shower together?” you suggest, digging your fingers teasingly into her naked hips. 

“Sure. Give me a minute.” She lays her head on your chest.

Despite your differences, you were truly happy to have this woman by your side through it all. She had been your longest supporter and that had meant everything to you when no one else believed in you.

You kiss her forehead softly. “I love you, Wanda.”

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

AN: Actually screaming and crying. Nat please come save us 😭

To be continued?

@holiday-house-of-m I finally kept my promise to you after 84 years.

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[reidphobic]

crashing into him tonight (he’s a paradox) - s. r.

in which your lessons continue, and you want to be more than spencer’s teacher. 4004 words. part two to the neighbor!au.

inexperienced!sub!spencer x dom!fem reader, jealousy, mommy kink, mutual masturbation, fingering, praise, very very mild degradation, brief cumplay? i guess? no use of y/n, reader is still super condescending but it’s still hot

It starts to become a routine for Spencer to knock on your door late at night, wearing a nervous smile and offering a quiet plea for another lesson. It’s not every night he’s home, but it’s enough that you start to notice his absence after a couple of days. You try not to read too far into it, remind yourself that the two of you just have fun, that Spencer is just your little plaything, and it doesn’t matter if he’s away somewhere using tricks you taught him on other women. And, besides, you’re hardly celibate yourself.

But after three nights of silence, you hear something so unfamiliar you almost don’t recognise it at first. A second voice in Spencer’s apartment — in his bedroom. You can’t quite make out any words, but you can tell exactly what’s happening, low murmurs giving way to soft moans, the shape of his name reaching your ear in a high, pitchy, voice. You scowl, huff. You know Spencer knows the walls are paper-thin. Has he even noticed that you haven’t brought anyone home when he’s there since you started sleeping together?

You lie awake, listening, until you can’t take the hurt any longer. You storm out of your apartment, drown the ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach in cheap, sour liquor. It’s not long before you’re leaving the bar again, head spinning, and back in your apartment with a willing body between your thighs. The guy — whose name you’ve already forgotten — is perfectly eager, all the right words, praises, moans as he touches you. His kiss is perfect on paper, just enough tongue and teeth and wandering hands, and you moan and stretch and purr when he fucks into you.

But it’s still all wrong. There’s too much of him; square shoulders and broad chest where you crave a slim, slight body. He praises where you want pleas, calls you baby instead of Mommy. The prospect of waking up to him in your bed makes your skin crawl, and you bundle the guy out of the door practically before he’s finished cumming. Sobered up and unpleasantly sticky, you stumble into the shower and try to scrub off the night’s sins. It doesn’t feel like it works.

Trying not to think about Spencer doesn’t work either. It doesn’t work as you toss and turn in bed, or when you’re getting ready for work, not even while your shift drags on and on and your mind is filled with a billion other things. You can half-feel the ghost of his presence, his favourite of your mugs undrank-from on the counter, one of his ties slung across a dining chair, a book he’d thought you might like resting on your coffee table.

It’s worse that he’s gone for so long — he’s been away on a case for ten days, and your lasting memory is the noise of him fucking someone else. The sound is still rattling dimly around your head as you stare aimlessly at the TV, your whole body sore after a long, late shift, when there’s a knock at your door. Unthinking, you open it, expecting your food delivery guy and instead coming face to face with Spencer.

You’re half-convinced you’ve fallen asleep, that he’s a cruel trick of your subconscious, and it must show on your face because Spencer’s face screws up in concern as he speaks. “Hi,” he murmurs. He’s disheveled in a way you’ve never seen him, bleary-eyed and shirt untucked, like he’s been sleeping in his clothes. “I, uh. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I came straight here, which sounds kind of stupid, ‘cause I live here, too, but, uh… I haven’t been inside my apartment yet.” You keep your face cool, impassive. “What… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I missed you.” Never mind that he fucked someone else the night before he left.

“Is that all?” you say, folding your arms across your chest. His face crumples, and you feel guilty all over again.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks, innocent and forlorn, and, God, you just want to sink your teeth into him right then and there.

But if you bite too hard, he’ll bleed. “I don’t know, Spencer. Did you? Or did you have fun?” you snap. “Did you use what I taught you?” The words taste bitter as they spill free, but you can’t swallow them back down. Spencer’s mouth opens and closes, but he stays silent. “Or, what, she wasn’t happy with you? You after one last practice run before you give the real thing another shot?”

“I… What?” He pauses. “This is because I… slept with someone else?”

You roll your eyes. “Wow. That 187 IQ really works wonders for you, huh?” You move to shut the door in his face, but he blocks you deftly, steps past you into your apartment so quickly you barely realise what happened. Right. FBI agent.

Spencer crosses the room, sits down at your dining table, motions for you to do the same. Your feet carry you into the chair without your permission. “So, you’re angry with me for sleeping with another girl, despite never communicating or agreeing on any kind of exclusivity. After… this.” He gestures vaguely to the space between you. “All started because I don’t know what I’m doing and you wanted to teach me?”

You sigh, turn his words over in your head. When he puts it that way, you sound ridiculous. And his saying I don’t know what I’m doing isn’t lost on you either. “I don’t think I knew, honey. I thought, this is just fun, just friends helping friends. And then I heard you, and I got so… possessive, I guess. And I couldn’t talk to you, because you were gone, so I just got more and more bitter.”

Reaching a hand across the table, Spencer gives you a tentative glance before taking hold of yours, running his thumb soothingly across your knuckles. “So, that night, the guy you were with, that was…”

“Fucking awful,” you joke, but he just looks concerned, doesn’t pick up on it. “No, it was… retaliation. God, that’s so embarrassing. The sex was fine, but he wasn’t you, honey.” At that, he finally smiles, and you feel it warm you from the inside out.

“And that’s what you want?” He licks his lips, touches his hair. His particular brand of skittish nervousness looks so good on him that it’s almost unfair. “Me?”

The disbelieving look on his face, frankly, is criminal. “Spencer, sweetheart, I can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted more.” Your chairs scrape against the floor as you scramble up, grab at him everywhere you can reach, crash your lips into his. It’s sweet, soft, and you fight to hold your hunger at bay, trace his lips with gentle affection.

You work your way through the room, bumping into every possible piece of furniture and giggling into Spencer’s open mouth until you land on the couch in his lap. “This is familiar,” he says, smirking a little. Grabbing his jaw, you scowl playfully, leaning in to peck him on the lips.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down, find him deliciously eager under you. “It’s so cute how hard you get just from making out, sweetheart. So needy, baby.” You lean down, kiss his neck, suck a bruise into his soft skin. “What’d you think about?”

“Huh?” he murmurs, eyes glossy and lips swollen, wearing a pretty, dazed face. He’s oh-so gorgeous when you’ve kissed all the thoughts out of his head, operating on pure impulse, uninhibited.

Your fingers creep up to loosen his tie. “You said I couldn’t stop thinking about you. What were you thinking about?” You pull his tie off, untuck his shirt, start working on his buttons. “Was it dirty? Details, honey, c’mon.”

Spencer smiles up at you, angelic. “Not all of it,” he says, tracing delicate little patterns across the small of your back. “Thought about kissing you. A lot. About you laying in my lap, and we’re supposed to be watching a movie, but I’m just looking at you.” Your chest clenches. “How you listen when I talk… I don’t— People think I can’t tell, if they just nod in the right places, but I know.”

“Spencer, honey,” you say softly, kissing and nipping gently at his chest as you unbutton his shirt, exposing inches of silken skin with each movement. “God, you’re perfect.” You sigh, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Spencer brings his hand up to pet your hair, blunt nails scratching soothingly over your scalp.

“But… I, uh. That’s not all I thought about.” He’s nervous, now, the embarrassment that always comes when he wants to voice his desires; you’ve been trying to train it out of him, but it’s achingly slow going.

You smile encouragingly, kissing at his chest and gazing up at him with your best fuck-me eyes. “S’alright, baby. Tell Mommy, okay?”

“Thought about you on top of me. Your pretty… How pretty you look up there.”

You grin wickedly. “My tits, is that what you mean to say? You love your Mommy’s tits, don’t you, honey?” Spencer nods, head falling forward to bury his face in your chest. You let him hide for a moment, collect himself, before you nudge him to speak again.

Spencer’s eyes are glossy, his mouth red and bruised. He looks so sweet, your pretty, pliant little toy, perfectly ready for you to sink your claws into. “Mhmm. Love your tits, Mommy. Thought about you touching me, n’when you’re all mean and you don’t touch me.” He pouts, just a little, and you can’t resist shifting your hips and dragging a thumb across his swollen bottom lip.

“You like it when I’m mean, sweetheart?” He nods, dazed. “You want me to be a little meaner?” Spencer freezes under you, suddenly seeming tense and afraid. Damn. And you’d just gotten him to relax. You stroke his face with the back of your hand to soothe him. “You can say no, honey, it’s okay, I won’t be mad. Just wanna find out what makes you feel good, alright, pretty?”

“No, I… I want it. But just a little. Please.”

“Yeah, honey, that’s alright. But you gotta tell me if it’s ever too much, okay?” Spencer nods, and you raise an eyebrow. “Words, baby.”

It seems to take him a minute to find the words, spit-slick lips parted as he stares at you with lust-blown eyes. “Yes, Mommy. I will. I’ll tell you.”

You grind your hips down in reward, let Spencer roll his up to meet you. Pressing your lips to his, you swallow his whimper. “Good boy,” you murmur, and he beams. “Love it when you get all dumb like this. S’good for you, honey, not to be the clever one all the time.” You pull off his shirt, slide off his lap to admire him from a distance. Before he can whine at the loss, you cut him off. “Did you touch yourself?” Spencer tilts his head. “Sweetheart, did you masturbate thinking about me?”

Spencer’s mouth drops in a soft ‘o’ of understanding, cheeks flushing ruby-woo red. “Yes,” he admits, avoiding your gaze until you force his eyes back to you.

“God, you really are just clueless, huh? C’mon, show Mommy, baby. Show me how you touch yourself.” Spencer blinks dumbly. God, he must be worse off than you thought. “Spencer, honey, I know you jerk off. I heard you every damn night. S’what made me decide I had to get you all to myself.”

At that, the corner of his lip quirks. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was smirking at you. “Is that why you had a box of lingerie delivered to my apartment?” It’s your turn to be speechless. “Profiler,” he adds with a shrug.

“Alright, smartass. It worked, didn’t it?” you scoff. “And stop distracting me.” You set to work on what’s left of his clothes, unbuttoning his pants and palming his cock through his boxers. “Do you take off all your clothes first? Or do you keep ‘em on, make a mess of yourself?”

“No, I… I take them off,” he says. You raise an eyebrow as if to say go on. “Oh, y- you want me to..? Oh, o-okay.” With shaking hands, he slips out of his pants, then his boxers, stained with precum; the evidence of his desire has you practically drooling. His pretty dick springs free, thuds sickly against his stomach with a wet smack.

You can’t help the pulse of arousal that throbs through you at the sight of him. “Good boys don’t keep Mommy waiting, Spencer,” you chide, careful to avoid touching him. It’s clear how acutely he feels the lack of a pet name, the implication of your words, and he babbles out an apology.

Eagerly, you watch Spencer curl his hand around his cock, but he doesn’t move. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s hard— Don’t,” he interrupts himself when you smirk. “It’s difficult… with you watching me like this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you croon. “You like to think about my tits, right?” You pull off your shirt, flick it across the room. As if magnetised, Spencer’s eyes fall to your chest as you grab your tits, roll a nipple between two fingers. “There you go, honey. S’just you and your fantasy, okay? Now show me what you do when you think of me, okay?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, takes a steadying breath. He’s endlessly fascinating; he’ll stare down killers without so much as flinching, but a willing girl with her boobs out is just too much for him. Slowly, he starts to pump his cock, spreading precum down his length. You watch him speed up until he’s jacking himself furiously, hand flying along his dick so hard and fast he must be giving himself friction burn. He bites down on his lower lip, whimpers through his teeth, the sound familiar and erotic. “Mommy,” he whines, high and breathy, hips jerking up into his hand. You can’t watch this much longer.

Placing a palm on his thigh to still him, you slowly cover his hand with your free one. “Honey, is that how you get yourself off?” Brow scrunched in confusion, he nods. God, the poor boy is hopeless. “And that feels good?”

“It makes me orgasm quickly,” Spencer answers, as if that’s remotely the same thing. “I- I have trouble sleeping, and an orgasm releases endorphins that relax both the mind and the body. It helps,” he says placidly.

You nod slowly. “And when you make yourself come like that, does that feel the same as when I make you come?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t, right? It feels better when I do it?”

“So much,” he breathes. “You’re so much better.”

You smile indulgently down at him. “Oh, honey. That’s because you’re doing it all wrong,” you say, syrupy and condescending. “When you get off, it makes you feel better, right? Yeah. And you’re so focused on that, you forget to make yourself feel good. That genius mind of yours’d be blown finding out how long I could spend getting myself off.” You pat his cheek. “Maybe I’ll show you someday.

A punched-out whimper slips from his lips, the sound falling straight between your legs. “What am I doing wrong?” Spencer asks, low and feeble.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mommy’s gonna show you, okay?” He nods eagerly. Sure, you’ve jerked him off before, but this feels different. You’re not just giving him pleasure, you’re showing him how to take it for himself. “Show me again, but slow, okay?” Obediently, Spencer curls his hand again, pumps his cock. “See, honey, feel that drag? Hurts, right? And not in the good way,” you add with a grin, and Spencer gulps. A slightly wicked idea crosses your mind. “We’re gonna go to bed now, okay?”

Like a lost little puppy, Spencer trails after you, joins you on the bed. You let him kiss you again, until his whines get too needy and his hips start to twitch. “Will you open that top drawer for me, sweetheart? Got something in there that’ll help you, okay?” Obediently, he rolls over, tugs the drawer open. You study his face carefully, watch his jaw go slack as he realises what you’re showing him. Your collection of sex toys stares up at him, and he gapes like a fucking fish. An adorable fish, but a fish all the same.

“What do you… you want me to..?” he says, still staring like he couldn’t possibly compute what you’re asking of him.

You laugh, only a little meanly. “Don’t worry, honey,” you say, padding around the bed to help him out. “You’re not ready for that stuff. Not yet, anyway. You’re such a good boy for Mommy, Spencer, such a quick learner. Pretty soon I’ll have you begging for ‘em. But not tonight, alright?” You lean down to pluck a small plastic bottle from the drawer. “This is all we need tonight. Do you know what that is, baby?”

Squinting his eyes, Spencer inspects the bottle. “Lubricant?” he says, mouth forming the word into a question.

“Such a clever boy,” you croon, settling yourself between his legs and taking his hand. You turn it palm up and squint a generous amount of lube into Spencer’s hand. “Spread that on your pretty dick for me, okay, baby?” The slick sound of it fills your ears, pulses in your cunt, and you can see on his face how much better he feels even from a scant touch. Eyes fluttering shut, he groans, but waits obediently for another instruction. “That’s it. That’s Mommy’s good boy, huh? Alright, honey. Now stroke yourself for me. You wanna start nice and slow, okay?”

You’re transfixed as he begins to touch himself, cock wet and glistening as it disappears into his fist. Lube drips out across his fingers, slick noises filling your room. “Feels so good, Mommy,” he whimpers, free hand fisting in your sheets.

“Oh, honey, I know,” you murmur, sitting up and sliding your hand into your panties. You moan as you brush your clit, collect your wetness on your fingertips. “Okay, I want you to just draw some little circles across the head, yeah? Like you do on my clit. Just try it out, see what feels good.” The sight is fucking mesmerising, and from the sounds spilling from his lips and the flush in his cheeks, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cum all over himself yet. “Alright, baby. Doing so good. You can make yourself cum now, alright? Just keep doin’ what feels good.”

Your lips part around a moan as you watch him. He speeds up, slows a little, experimenting with pace and pressure. You’re strangely proud even as you rub frantic little circles into your clit, slowly start to fuck yourself on your fingers. Desire pools at the base of your spine, and you moan his name as you speed up, cunt pulsing around your fingers. It seems like that’s what does Spencer in, a pathetic whimper of Mommy, yes spilling from his lips as ropes of cum splash up against his chest. His body convulses, gasping and moaning incoherently as his orgasm takes over.

Still panting as you finger yourself, you smile blithely over at him. “Still with me, pretty? How was that?”

Gasping, Spencer blinks helplessly at you for a moment. “Thank you.” Suddenly dismayed, he looks down at himself. “Gross,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “All messy, aren’t you? You want Mommy to get you cleaned up?” He nods, expecting you to get up and fetch a washcloth. Instead, you press him down until he’s lying supine, lean over him so your boobs hang in his face. Like he can’t resist, Spencer licks a stripe along your chest. You giggle softly, press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, start to work your way down. Carefully, you lap up the mess dripping across his chest, and he moans brokenly. Your eyes flutter closed as his taste hits your tongue, a needy ache burning between your thighs the longer you lick him clean.

He chokes on a breath when you wrap your lips around his head, clean up the last drops of cum beaded on his tip. “I can’t-” he clears his throat. “I can’t… go again… yet,” he says, cheeks pinking up adorably.

You pull off, lick your lips exaggeratedly. “S’okay, honey. I don’t need you to. Yet,” you add with a wink. “Just wanted to get you cleaned up.” Still desperately horny, you crawl up his body, kiss him furiously. “Spencer,” you moan against his lips. “I want you to make me cum. Do you wanna make Mommy cum, baby?”

“Mhmm. Yeah, I want to. What do you…? Can I, uh… Eat you out?” he asks timidly, the final few words unfamiliar on his tongue and belying his desperation.

God above, where did you find this boy? “Another time, honey. Later tonight, if you’re lucky. But I’m planning on keeping your mouth nice and busy for now, okay?” You grab his hand, slide it around to the front of your panties, grind your clit against the heel of his palm through the lace. “Want you to fuck me with your fingers, okay, sweetheart?”

Nodding frantically, Spencer tugs your panties down just enough that he can fit his hand against your cunt. You cup his jaw, kiss him hard as he slips a finger inside you. “You’re so warm,” he breathes, rubbing delicate circles into your clit as your cunt pulses around him.

“That’s it, pretty. Such a good boy. Just like Mommy taught you, alright?” you moan, arching your back as hot pleasure twists under your skin. Spencer slides another finger in, curls then expertly, as if he’s been practicing. Then, a blinding spark of pure ecstasy flashes through you. “Oh, my fucking God! There, baby, right there. Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you babble, your kiss more spit and moans than tongue and lips. Spencer doesn’t let up, hits your g-spot over and over, still rubbing soft circles into your clit. You were already close before he started, and his glorious, frankly brutal assault on the most sensitive places in your body leaves you powerless.

You surrender to it willingly, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. It’s so forceful you almost black out, gasping into Spencer’s mouth and writhing against him. Ecstasy floods every inch of you, pulse roaring in your ears and hammering in your chest. Spencer’s fingers are still deep inside you when you come to, and he’s staring down at the point they disappear into your cunt. “Sorry,” he murmurs, gently pulling them out. “I just really like being… inside you.”

God, you can’t wait to teach him about cockwarming. “So sweet,” you coo. He lifts his hand, sucks your arousal off his fingers, and you groan. “I think we need to have a little talk, honey,” you murmur, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of his face. He nods.

“I didn’t enjoy it,” he says quickly. “The other night. I mean, it was… It wasn’t… I don’t know. All I could think about was that she wasn’t you. I was, uh… Sort of afraid?” he says with a humorless laugh.

You make a soft, concerned noise. “What do you mean, honey?” Your fists clench at your sides, head pounding furiously all of a sudden.

“Just that… I feel so safe with you. And it wasn’t that she made me feel bad, or unsafe, or anything. But I was so worried about doing something wrong, and I never felt that with you, and all I wanted was you instead.” Spencer curls his body into yours as you hook a leg over his waist.

Brushing your thumb over his cheek softly, you gaze into his sweet, long-lashed eyes. “You have me, sweetheart. I promise.”

[misssilversunny]

Ok wait i just had a funny idea

Why stop at just a yandere batfamily? Why not all of Gotham?

Like, imagine Bane kidnapping you, calling you his "firefly" or whatever because you're a fleeting light in the darkness or something, and you're more guarded than the actual thing he stole.

And despite that, Poison Ivy manages to nab you, her "little rose", while Bane is busy dealing with Batman. She takes you back to her apartment, where you greet the plants you recognize and introduce yourself to the new ones (There aren't many, you were here 3 months ago).

At some point you take a breath of fresh air through an open window, and Scarecrow grabs you, taking you to his lair, into a room which is also pumped with a special strain of fear gas that makes you cling to him for safety.

And then, shock of all shocks, the one and only, motherfucking Joker snatches you from the lair, leaving behind a dummy for Scarecrow to find. Unlike the others, Joker's obsession is in the fact that everyone else is obsessed with you. He finds it hysterical how one person can have all of Gotham in a spin!

Eventually, the Batfam grabs Reader from the Joker, since he's not actually obsessed so he has them the least guarded, maybe a short conversation with Batman, but even Joker knows he's in water too hot to joke about severe injuries, especially since he doesn't know if Red Hood is nearby.

Batman might not kill, but he cannot guarantee that anyone else wouldn't if he killed their favorite person, and he does not have the influence where he could get away with that.

You get returned to your nice cage room in the manor, where the Batfamily scolds you yet again for another failed escape attempt trip outside getting you shipped around Gotham for weeks!

At this point, you're pretty sure you not only can't leave, but also any attempts at a normal life are pointless. You mostly do this because humans are animals and animals need enrichment, and no, the cycle of games/quality time they're giving you are not a suitable replacement for touching grass and seeing new faces.

Even the brief moments of time between kidnappings, the short moments of normalcy that the other villains, the other heroes and vigilantes give you, are a welcome change of pace.

Bonus points if it's literally everyone in neighboring cities/Justice League, so Superman finds you and you're just like "Well shit" because now you're taken to his house, maybe his parents' farm, and you're kept there until someone catches on that Clark has you.

Also if you tack this onto Spoiled!Reader, this becomes infinitely funnier because In my mind I'm treating that AU as 90% a crack/lighthearted fic, and another thing is I think of them as being ~12 sometimes, so it's the entirety of Gotham fighting over a middle schooler.

If it's an adult Reader, it's more of a "This is fine" as they are carted from villain to villain to vigilante to hero because their family literally has a fan club for them, so their perception of what is "normal" levels of interest is severely skewed.

If you want to go for the Neglected!Reader, then it would be really interesting for them to try and figure out where is a good level of "interested in your hobbies", and doubts whether they're so uncomfortable because they're actually too invested in their day to day life, or if it's because they were neglected for so long that any interest feels overwhelming.

Btw all asks about Spoiled!Reader and this Reader are welcome!

[kedreeva]

A couple months back, my neighbor wanted to get some Spitzhauben hatching eggs for his wife, so he asked me for help finding some good ones, from a good breeder. So I dug around for a bit, since Spitz are a bit of a rare breed, and found a few options that looked decent. One of them happened to be in Michigan with us, maybe a little over an hour from us, so I arranged to go pick them up in person to avoid the stresses of shipping on the eggs.

I picked up a dozen (baker's dozen, she added a few extra just in case), and a half dozen of the Marans eggs for myself (she gave me a discount because fertility hadn't been tested yet, as long as I promised to report growth/hatch rate and update about what comes out) because she claimed to have good quality and her eggs looked to be decent quality. She was really nice, very chatty, and the eggs looked great in person, too.

12 of the spitz eggs hatched, and 3 of the BCM. The BCM chicks looked great but they were being stressed OUT by the quail chicks they were in with, so I snuck them into the brooder with the spitz when I closed up the neighbor's birds one evening while they were out.

I've visited them a few times since, and they've been looking good, but they're finally to an age where on the BCM you can tell sex- perfect ratio, one rooster, two hens.

Now, I used to keep and breed BCM a long time ago. I had wanted to get into showing (never got around to it for several reasons), and I'd dealt with several lines. My original line that I'd mixed from a couple different people always produced REALLY stellar roosters- big lads with sweet, docile personalities that were 100% ready to die for their ladies, whom they always treated well. For roosters, those are all REALLY important qualities. The ideal is a rooster that treats his ladies well, is willing to fight to the death to defend them if something comes after them BUT--- importantly can tell the difference between a predator and a human who is messing with the hens (picking up, moving, treating w/ meds, whatever). Ideally, if a hen makes a noise of distress, the rooster come BOLTING to her at top fucking speed ready to kick ass, but stops dead if he sees it's just a human. And I HAD that- I used to sell the roosters to folks (SELL them, I never had to give away a rooster) as flock protectors, and I would get people coming back to buy another after their guy died defending the girls while free ranging. It's sad, but it's also one of two reasons to have a rooster.

And I see all the time people posting about their mean roosters, about how to handle roosters that are mean to humans, or people telling others oh the rooster is just young and roosters are mean when they're young and they'll mellow out when they get older, just keep putting up with it. Power through.

NO! There is almost* NEVER a reason to tolerate a nasty rooster- one that's mean to the girls, or to humans. This BCM rooster is only a few months old, but you can already see the purpose that's been bred into him. I picked up one of his girls and she went :( and he came RUNNING over to see what was wrong, looked me up and down and went nah that's cool, and then checked on all the other girls. Just in case. I went to move them from their cage to the big play pen that's set up for them, and I thought oh this is going to be a circus, trying to catch them all. The Spitzhauben were acting insane, like I was trying to kill them by looking at them. I braced the carry bin on the edge of the door, expecting to reach in to (try to) grab each bird and put them in. But no. This rooster walked over, got in, called the others, and they all chilled right out, came over and jumped into the bin with him. He's in the playpen right now just watching over all the others. If someone gets into an argument, he runs over and gets between them, and then checks on them both after. When he lies down, the others come lie down with him. On him.

THIS is what a good rooster looks like. Not in a year, not in two years. Right from the getgo, the instincts are all there. Hormones shouldn't eliminate/supercede this behavior- they shouldn't turn a bird into an asshole. They should instigate a second set of rooster behaviors- dancing/courting, tidbitting, and mating attempts. Running girls ragged, pulling feathers, causing injury, attacking people- these are all poor breeding and/or handling problems. These are things that can (and SHOULD) be selected against when breeding fowl

*The "almost" never is that a breeder starting out may not have a choice when it comes to shitty personalities- they may find themselves having to tolerate the least shitty for a few generations, until the personalities show improvement. In this case, most (good) breeders know better than to dump the wash outs on the unsuspecting, and will instead do hard culls for food or sell to folks raising food or who are aware of the personality problems. In any case any tolerance should be an in-progress tolerance, not an endgame result.

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer dotes on a pregnant!reader

・❥ Congrats, you’re pregnant! It’s not Luci’s, but nobody can tell the difference with how much he adores you and your baby

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

x: based on @ukor02’s prompt! reader is fem with no use of y/n. enjoy 🤍

~ 27k words!! Ya’ll…. :’)

[read it in chapters on my ao3!]

“Please, Mr. Demur! Can’t I pay you next week? I’ll have enough by then, I promise.”

“How many ‘next weeks’ are we going to have here, hm? If I don’t start making money on these units, I won’t be able to pay off my own debts. I can’t let you keep living here rent-free!” 

You grimaced as your landlord continued to speak across the line, his voice harsh against your ear as you held the small phone against it. Your nails clicked nervously against the wooden countertop of your kitchen, the sound reverberating around the room, helping to drown out your thoughts.

You had been very behind on monthly dues. Your income wasn’t enough to support all your woes anymore, which meant you were struggling to pay rent and afford groceries. Hell’s inflation was getting pretty crazy, and without a second source of income, you were doomed.

You had a second source of income when your boyfriend lived with you and worked for maintenance at VoxTek. Until you found him rolling under the sheets with your next-door neighbor, one of Valentino’s girls who decided that she’d expand her interests to family men.

He had begged for your forgiveness when you dragged him by the ear towards the front door. ‘I won’t do it again, I promise!’ he had pleaded, moaning for your mercy. Right, like you were going to trust a demon from Lust to stay loyal any longer.

What a fool you were, giving him all those chances. Now, you were taking the hit for everything. Alone. Regret ate at the back of your mind, should you have let him stay? If not for your feelings, at least to have kept a roof over your head for you and…

Your gaze traveled slowly down to the small bump on your abdomen, the unspoken words shouting that you ever had relations with a man. Your unborn baby.

The baby your boyfriend knew about, a week before he brought that woman into your home. Yet, he still shoved you aside for a hotter piece of trash. The nerve.

How were you going to support a whole other helpless, tiny being now? If only you could get some empathy from your landlord, appeal to his second nature…

“I understand your difficulties, trust me, I do! But—”

“If you understand that,” your landlord over the phone finally growled out, “then you’ll understand that I’m giving you three days to pack up all your things, and get out of my unit!”

The line ended, that soft buzzing in your ear the only thing keeping you grounded atop the kitchen stool you were quietly shaking on.

Out? He was evicting you? That wasn’t fair! You’ve lived here for years, and a few late payments are what ends your relationship with the little one-bedroom apartment? Ridiculous! 

What were you going to do now? There was nobody to lean on for help, not anymore. Not after your boyfriend left, and your best friend ran off with some royal shitbag down to the Envy Ring, and who even knows where your parents were these days.

It was just you, and the little bean who’d call you Mama soon enough.

Your hand lowered, thumb grazing soothingly against the small protrusion in your belly. Tears pricked at your eyes, hot and angry as you fumed silently. Was this it? The end of any happiness in your life? Forced to grovel like a dog to some powerful entity, or sign a contract that rips free will from your grasp? 

You shivered at the thought. No. That's not how you were going to go out, not without a fight. Even in a dark and brooding place like Hell, you’d try to live a happy and comfortable life, if not for you, at least for the baby growing in your womb. 

Maybe, when the child is born, you won't feel so lonely anymore. They’d be someone to snuggle with at night, curled up against your chest as the two of you lounged on the sofa. The soft words emanating from the TV across the room like a lullaby to their tiny ears, as they drank in the warmth of your body, drifting into blissful sleep.

You’d lower your nose and breathe in that fresh, sweet baby scent from the top of their head, filling you with another dose of pure love and adoration. That child would be fawned over for, well, forever. Even if you were the only one going to share that love, you could wait for them to grow older and return some of it.

That made you smile, imagining the little pitter-pattering of feet against tile flooring as you baked the toddler delicious treats and cooked delicacies that made their little mouth water. That gleam of awe in their eye as the flavors swirled against their tongue, their brain growing fuzzy with pleasure.

That’s the life you would live, and not some cardboard box in the alleyway begging for scraps.

“Alright, looks like Mama has some work to do,” you spoke softly to the quiet, empty room. You weren’t sure whether the little bean could hear your voice nestled so far in your belly, but at this point, you were willing to chat up thin air if it kept your sanity. 

It wasn’t going to be easy, that was for sure. You needed a stable income, instead of picking up odd jobs popping up on the streets. Then, you needed to find a place to stay, it could be anything, even a barn. As long as it was somewhere with a little room and comfort, it would do for the time being. You’d have to upgrade when the baby was born, though, maybe to a two-bedroom apartment this time.

Quickly, you lifted your phone and typed in the now-familiar phrase ‘Places hiring in Pentagram City’. You scrolled, favoriting every job that offered a decent income and was manageable for you.

Being pregnant was going to make things difficult, seeing as you’d be unable to do many physical tasks sometime down the road in the coming months. Which would give you very few options soon.

Your feet hit the soft carpet of the living room, and you rubbed your eyes sleepily. That nausea that had been plaguing you early in the morning was draining you physically, and the stress that was beginning to build on your shoulders only zapped your mental strength.

A few hours of beauty sleep, and then you’d get your ass to work. 

Your stomach growled, moaning for substance, and you sighed. Okay, a nap and lunch… then, you’d be moving toward financial stability. One step at a time, and now a tiny bean to think about. 

Sooner or later, you’d get there.

Before eviction day, you had managed to find an open position at a small convenience store in a much quieter part of the city. Residential neighborhoods wrapped around the row of stores inside a quaint, little market at the edge of the city. 

You looked into the large display windows that bordered the front door to the dark purple shop. ‘We’re Hiring!’ in bold lettering on a corner of the glass pane, beneath the rows of chips and other snacks on a tall shelf standing a few feet behind the window. Right beneath that flashy sign, was a smaller piece of paper taped hastily to the glass surface. “Room Available for rent’ was scrawled in unkempt handwriting, and your eyes widened in excitement.

Taking a deep breath, you gripped the cold, metal handle and pulled the door open. The golden bell above your head jingled a faint tune as you stepped through the threshold. Your eyes take in the old, wooden shelves that hung on either side of the room, while shorter displays were lined neatly in rows spanning wall to wall filled with snacks, home essentials, and more.

The place was kind of a mess, but… it felt rather homey. A ‘Mom and Pop’ shop kinda of thing, stirring nostalgic emotions inside of you. When you reached an older demon, her back hunched slightly with age and the weight of the large shell on her back, you realized how your feelings couldn’t get any more accurate. 

Green skin sagged from the elderly woman’s face, deep wrinkles embedded into her reptilian features as she regarded you with suspicion. She resembled pretty closely to a tortoise, with that round, thick shell that lay upon her back and neck that extended high from her body. She held a broom in her long claws, halting mid-sweep as you smiled gently at her. 

“Can I help you?” She croaked.

“I’m here for the job opening, the general worker position?” Your smile widened, trying to look as presentable and friendly as possible. This may not be the job of your dreams, but it was a job nonetheless, a start. 

“You Hellborn?” 

“Yes.” What an odd question.

“You can lift and move large boxes?”

“Sure can!” You replied, with a quick nod. For the next few months, at least. If you couldn’t find a new job by the time your belly was unable to be hidden any longer, you’d spill the beans to granny.

“Hm,” the wrinkled demon eyed you with more interest, and she tilted her head in thought for a few moments, before meeting your gaze again, “I think I can make do with what’s in front of me, for now.”

Not even an interview? What a score!

A sigh of relief escaped you, the invisible weight on your shoulders lightening slightly as you shook hands with the turtle. The job wasn’t going to be that difficult, cashiering, stocking, talking to customers, easy peasy. Until the swollen ankles kicked in.

“Oh, and the room for rent! I’m kinda in need of some living arrangements for now. Do you still have availability?” You clasped your hands, smiling widely once more.

“We have space…” The old, turtle-faced demon sighed, turning her large shell to face you, before ambling away towards a dark hallway behind the small checkout counter. She beckoned you with her thick tail that slowly swayed behind her as she moved.

Slowly, you followed behind the woman, entering what seemed to be the large back room of the store, piles of boxes labeled as different foodstuffs, with thick, heavy bags of an assortment of goods. There looked to be a large freezer on one wall, as it blew cold air that seeped into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as you crossed the room. 

The turtle demon stopped at a light-brown wooden door, before softly turning the handle and pulling it open. She leaned through the doorway as far as her wide shell would allow and tugged on a thin string hanging from the ceiling. With a click, the small bulb above your head flickered on, illuminating what seemed like a large, dusty storage closet. You gulped, this was tiny! It was the size of a small bedroom, but was supposed to be your entire living unit? You pointed into the lit room, quirking a brow in disbelief.

“Is this…?”

“The room available, yes.”

“It’s kind of… small.”

“Well, what did ya expect, a two-bedroom with a loft? It’s less than a hundred for a reason. The bathroom is next door, so it's a quick walk. We’ve got a hose in the back you can use to shower, and you got a place to buy most of your essentials just a hallway over.”

You thought for a few moments, rubbing your hands together as your mind raced with what other options you currently had. None, really. Anywhere else you had gone to seek employment had already found someone or deemed you unqualified for the position. Let's see… the alleyway or a closet? Hard choice.

“Also, utilities are included in the rent.” 

Well, that was a good bargain.

“Okay, sure” you nodded slowly, rubbing your face with a sigh, “This’ll work.”

“Good. We’ll just take rent out of your paycheck, then. The name is Alma, let me show you around.” 

You had followed her back out to the front of the store, before being walked through the job and every detail your new boss, Alma, found necessary to fill you in on. How to work the old cash register, keys for every door inside the building, where the gun was hidden underneath the counter in case anyone was to rob the store and use it for defense.

When you returned home later that day, your back hit the door and you slid to the ground with a sigh. Your stomach rumbled, and you tenderly rubbed a hand across the protrusion underneath your skin. Rising to your feet, you headed to the kitchen, digging through all the junk for any healthier options you had. There wasn’t much, but you settled on a small microwave meal and placed it into the little appliance.

As the microwave buzzed softly, it filled your head with background noise to your quiet thoughts. Thoughts about your future, your chances at success, your baby, or your loneliness navigating such a turbulent time in your life.

Hopefully, once you had a good night’s sleep and packed up in the morning, the doubts about your decision that were eating at your conscience would fade. Everything was going to be very different from here on out, but maybe, that wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Looks like we have our work cut out for us,” you whispered into the empty room once more.

It had been a few months since you arrived at that quaint, little shop looking for a job and a place to stay. After a few months, your stomach only continued to grow. 

You had hidden the sight through baggy clothes at first, careful to keep your secret hidden from prying eyes. Until running to the bathroom all the time and your sudden bouts of exhaustion made you reveal the fact to Alma.

She had rolled her eyes, before grumbling how ‘as long as you’re still able to work’ there wouldn’t be any problems regarding your employment. 

There wasn’t much you brought over from your apartment, not even your bed could fit comfortably inside the little room. Instead, you resorted to a one-person mat that only lifted you from the floor a couple of inches. At first, it sucked, really, really sucked. Soon enough, you adjusted to the tension in your back that always woke you just in time for work.

You had brought a few trinkets with you, memories from your past, and small items to keep you busy. You brought that little microwave from your place, which was situated on a small coffee table on the wall across from your bed.

There was nothing for the baby, yet. You didn’t have anything to begin with, nor did you have the money to afford such things. Later, when the little bean was closer to arrival, you’d start hunting through garage sales and thrift stores. The only thing keeping you educated on your pregnancy was the few books detailing motherhood that were on sale at one of the local vendors. 

Standing atop your microwave, was a small flatscreen TV, your only source of entertainment nowadays. Sure, you touch grass once in a while, exploring the market, brisk walks around the block, that sort of thing. Getting a workout made you hungry, though, and with your tiny paycheck? Three meals a day was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

The problem? You were always craving something to eat. Sweet treats, odd vegetables, food you used to hate. Once, you even drooled over a slab of raw meat you were packing away into a freezer, the thought of ripping it apart and devouring it right then and there itching at your scalp. 

Instead, you opted for a large salad. While you made sure to eat enough to feed your baby, the quality of the food you were consuming wasn’t the greatest. Hopefully, you'll be able to afford healthier meals soon.

The work in the store was mundane, the customers lively but nothing worthwhile, and life was pretty stagnant after a few months of living there. Except for the changes in your body, those new aches and sores, the sudden dizziness that caused you to plop down upon the nearest surface.

It was one of these times when you felt your face numbing and your vision beginning to blur, and you fell upon an unopened box of goods. Hand lifting to wipe that dribble of sweat away, you took a deep breath. It was getting harder to do that, though, with how the baby in your womb was beginning to steal the space your lungs needed to expand.

It was a much hotter afternoon, the air simmered with acrid, dry heat that suffocated the store with its intensity. It was a weather normal pattern, but one you loathed nonetheless. A fan close to you finally swiveled in your direction, and you let the cool air smack you in the face with its soothing touch. 

Alma wasn’t around, which meant she wasn’t able to catch you on another one of your on-the-clock breaks. Standing on your feet, lifting boxes and other items all shifts was not fun with a baby rolling around somewhere in your guts.

You were enjoying the momentary peace, eyes shut as you inhaled another large breath. The small TV hanging from the corner of the room, right behind the cashier register hummed softly as the news anchors yapped quietly about something or other.

When you opened your eyes, the congregation of large shadows at the front door caught your attention. Quickly, you rose from the cardboard box, fiddling with another small pile as you took a knife and tore it open. Bags of chips nestled together, your stomach grumbled softly at the multiple flavors it hosted.

You did your best to look busy, just as the door opened with a creak and the bell above its frame jingled excitingly about the fresh, new faces. 

“I can't believe you made us take a walk in this weather, Charlie,” a feminine voice moaned as they crossed through the threshold. Their tall figure rose above the rows of shelves, pink fuzz popping from their partially exposed chest as they strode in. Both sets of arms were crossed, as they turned to meet the gaze of a woman with a bright red tuxedo.

Beside her was a shorter, gray-skinned woman who immediately placed herself in the direction of a whirring fan. One good eye scanned across the room, looking for nothing in particular.

A tall snake demon slithered in behind them, huffing as he collapsed onto a small bench next to the doorway. The hoods framing his face began to fan his heated skin, recuperating for a few moments.

“I agree with—huff—Angel Dusssssst,” The man hissed tiredly, swiping a claw over his brow to dry his forehead, “It sssseeems we have chosen a poor day to—huff—embark on our little excursion.”

“It is pretty hot today, but! That means we all sweat a little more, and burn off some of that negative energy!” The woman, Charlie, exclaimed as she clapped her hands together, “Clear our minds of all that clutter and embrace the heat of a new day!” 

Angel Dust rolled his eyes, grumbling something as he turned to a display of sunglasses, plucking out different pairs from the stand and fiddling with them on his face as he posed in the tiny mirror.

“Husk’a! Don’t I look fantabulous or what?” He turned towards a short, feline demon with quirked brows. He sent Husk a playful, sultry smirk which the feline only growled softly at, before reaching into a fridge for a large bottle of water.

“Ya look like shit,” he grumbled, popping the cap off and chugging down the drink in one go. It seemed like the guy did that often enough for the contents to disappear so quickly, which was pretty impressive. Hopefully, he was going to pay for that drink too.

“Awww, thanks kitty!” 

The demons dispersed from their little group, scanning the shelves for any snack that would satisfy their hunger after that draining exercise. 

You watched through careful glances as they wandered about. There was no doubt the group of demons had noticed you by now, but there was nothing special to see as you just continued hefting boxes across the room. The last one, a large crate of soda cans, was giving you a rough time.

Strength waning, you huffed as you slowly walked towards the wall of fridges. Straining as you try to shift your grip, your arm placement is awkward with your round stomach making it difficult to get good positioning on the container. Panic seized you for a moment, as you fumbled with your hold.

“Let me help you with that!” A cheery voice exclaimed from beside you, causing you to jump right as the crate was lifted from your grip into the arms of the apple-cheeked woman. 

Charlie smiled brightly at you before she turned away, setting the crate down gently next to the fridge door. You fanned yourself, taking in a deep breath as the woman turned back to face you.

“I’m sorry,” you smiled apologetically, reaching up instinctively to brush a thumb gently over your bump, “heat and exhaustion are just not a healthy mix.” 

“That’s okay, it wasn’t a problem! And—oh my,” the demon’s eyes gleamed at your swollen stomach, her gaze soft, “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but are you…?”

“Pregnant?” You tilted your head, smiling softly as a hand instinctively reached up to caress, “I am, yes.”

“Awe, I love babies!” Charlie swooned, placing a hand over her heart. “How far along are you?”

“About four months! I just moved here recently, are you from around here?”

“Yep! Just around the corner practically, right up the hill there’s that big hotel? I run it! It’s called the Hazbin Hotel!”

The Hazbin Hotel? Why did that name sound so familiar?

“And, these are all residents at the hotel!” Charlie smiled gleefully, sweeping a hand across the room as she gestured at her band of demons, “Some of them work for me, and some of them are my clients! The pink one is Angel Dust, the snake is Sir. Pentious, the grumpy fella over there is Husker, and the lady over there is Vaggie, my girlfriend!” 

Your head spun with the quick introductions, but you only listened thoughtfully as she spoke a few more words about her job. 

“That’s very interesting,” you finally said after she finished her sentence, “I’ll have to look it up sometime, I’m sure you're doing a great job. Hopefully, everything has been going well for you so far.” 

“I hope the same for you, too,” she smiled, eyes flicking down to your stomach for a moment before her head swiveled to get a look around the room, “…you don’t happen to have a bathroom here, do you?”

“We do! It’s in the back, I can take you there,” you smiled softly, before turning towards the back door and crossing the room. Charlie’s heels clicked against the old, cracking concrete behind you, as the two of you entered the back room. It was filled with boxes and other goods, and Charlie’s gaze bounced across the new scene with interest. 

The dimly lit room sent shadows across the two doors on the far end, and your hand slid across the wall close to you to find the switch. The lights flickered on, revealing the matching doors standing side by side, and you turned towards the demon woman.

“It’s right over there,” you gestured toward the doors, backing up slightly as Charlie nodded. She made her way towards the bathroom, hand raising to grasp around the doorknob, before twisting it firmly. 

Your breath hitched in realization right as she pulled the door open. That was the wrong door, that was your door! There was no telling how the woman would judge you after seeing the pitiful place you called home.

“Wait! That’s my—!”

“Oh!” Charlie exclaimed as she took in the makeshift living quarters, illuminated softly by the bulb above her head.

Her gaze flicked to the sunken mattress, lying against the hard cement floor. The small TV stacked on that aging microwave, and the piles of books created a makeshift nightstand, with a little reading lamp and retro alarm clock. The mini fridge hummed softly against another wall, hardly big enough to fit a few day's worth of meals in it.

Charlie’s eyes rested on the stacks of labeled boxes nestled tightly against the wall for maximum space, the only remnants of your old life. Her heart beat rapidly, as she took in the flood of information she was gathering about your situation as she stared silently. 

You only watched her expression with weary eyes, rubbing your hands soothingly as you waited for her words. Slowly, Charlie turned towards you, her gaze meeting yours and she read your expression carefully.

“You don’t actually live here, right?” She laughed in disbelief before her smile quickly faded when your face showed no signs of humor. 

“This is terrible! Especially with someone in your condition!” 

Condition? You weren’t helpless just because you were carrying some extra cargo around for a few more months.

“Don’t worry about me, It’s not that bad it’s just—”

You were cut off by the sound of your stomach growling, so loud it practically reverberated around the room. The pitiful noises were followed by slight pain, a sign of how dreadfully empty your tummy was. The noises of hunger made Charlie’s eyes widen and her brows furrow deeper.

“Are you hungry?” She asked slowly.

“Yes,” you stated bluntly, your tongue subconsciously wetting your parched lips. God, you were so hungry. All. the. time. 

It was miserable, having to limit yourself on all the mouth-watering goodies surrounding you. You just wanted to stuff your face, fill up your stomach, and then some. 

“Have you eaten anything today?” Charlie questioned, crossing her arms and shooting you a look of concern.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I get my paycheck tomorrow,” you answered quietly, averting the woman’s gaze as you gnawed at your lip. Embarrassment was bubbling in your chest, and tears were threatening to spill against you will.

You’ve never felt this… open with someone before, not in a long while. You were struggling direly, and now Charlie knew it too. And, revealing your financial situation to a customer you’ve just met? Alma would have your head! What were you thinking? 

Maybe, it was a subconscious cry for help. For some empathetic, kind soul to come swoop you off your feet into prosperity. 

But, you were in Hell, who would do something so selfless like that, for nobody like you?

Charlie bit her lip, breath quickening as her gaze darted from you to the thin mattress on the floor. She seemed antsy, like there were words behind her lips the woman was desperate to spill. Instead, Charlie only gulped them down, before her composure straightened and she sent you an awkward smile.

“Will you excuse me for just a second? I have to uhm, go talk to my girlfriend…” Charlie chuckled nervously, slowly backing away towards the front of the store, “I’ll be right back, don’t move!” 

You nodded obediently to the stern finger she waggled at you, before she pivoted and dashed towards the door at the end of the hall. Charlie wrapped a hand around an ash-gray arm, Vaggie jumped at her touch before she was dragged out of sight. The sounds of fast, hushed voices echoed to your spot in the dark.

Straining your ears, you tried to peep in on their conversation. With the way Charlie scrambled out of there, you were nervous about what exactly the two could be discussing around the corner. 

“We can’t just leave her here, Vaggie!” Charlie shook her head sternly, crossing her arms as she spoke to her partner. 

“Well, we can’t just take her back to the hotel. We don’t know the woman!”

“She’s pregnant with barely any food, and a terrible place to sleep! We can’t just do nothing!” The apple-cheeked woman growled, throwing her hands up as she paced in place near the freezers. The others on the other side of the room were too busy arguing over which flavor of ice cream was better to stop and listen in on the duo’s conversation. 

“I know,” Vaggie sighed, her brows creasing in frustration as she rubbed a hand down her face, mind racing, “I just don’t want to do anything that could put a wrench in your dreams, that’s all. We don’t know anything about her, she could bring trouble to our doorstep. There's enough of that as it is..”

“Nothing will happen, I promise,” Charlie replied softly, lacing her fingers with Vaggie, before soothingly brushing a thumb over her partner's knuckles, “We’ll just say she’s on… maternity leave! That way, she can have the baby stress-free, and then find a job either at the hotel or somewhere else. And, if any problems arise, we have Alastor to handle it.”

“Okay,” Vaggie nodded slowly, “If you think this won’t be an issue… then, I trust you, babe.” 

“Thank you, Vaggie.” Charlie smiled softly, “I haven’t told her yet. I just wanted to run it by you first, and figure out how to ask a stranger to, well, move in with strangers.”

You backed out of earshot, having gotten enough of the two’s words for your breath to quicken and your thoughts to spiral. Turning, you faced into your room, staring into space as you chewed absently on your lip.

They want to give you a place to stay, for free? No questions asked, just out of the kindness of their hearts?

You shook your head, a dry laugh of disbelief escaping your lips. That was impossible! This was Hell, and things like that never happened. You were born in Hell, and have practically seen it all when it comes to 

Murdering, whoring, and overdosing. That was Hell’s usual. Who was this woman, and what could she possibly have in store for you?

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard the soft clicking of heels reverberate around the dimly lit room. You pivoted sharply, smiling innocently as your gaze met Charlie’s excited expression. She bit her lip nervously, before straightening her posture and clasping her hands together. 

“I know we only just met, but I would really love to offer you a place to stay. Something better than this, at least. We have large rooms with their own bathroom and little dining areas. It’ll be free! Plus, lounges, a kitchen, and a bar. Although, I’m sure you won’t be needing that anytime soon.” Charlie chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck and she watched you intently. 

“Why would you do something like this for me?” You asked slowly, tilting your head as your fingers thrummed against your bump thoughtfully.

“Because when I see my people struggling, I don’t just stand by and let them. It’s my duty to help those in need.” Charlie placed a fist into her open palm, determination in her gaze and she spoke assertively.

‘My people’? ‘Duty’? What could she possibly mean about that? Such strange words coming from an even stranger woman before you, so desperate to hear your approval.

“I can definitely think about it…” you finally said softly, meeting her gaze after a moment.

“That’s a start! Here, take this, it’s my business card.” The woman patted down her pockets, before pulling out a small card from her pants, thrusting it excitedly towards you.

“I made them myself!” Charlie whispered, her eyes gleaming with pride as you stared down at the little writings across its surface. 

“I can call you tomorrow, with my answer,” you replied finally, slipping the card away for later. 

“Great! Thank you so much for considering! It’ll be worth it, I promise!”

A shadow loomed across the room, as Angel Dust poked his head into the doorway. He squinted into the darkness, before quirking a brow at Charlie’s figure.

“Ya comin’, toots? I’m hungry, and I deserve some R&R back at the hotel. ASAP.”

“Coming!” Charlie called, beginning to cross the room. She turned to face you, curving her lips into another bright smile as you stood there motionless. You didn’t say another word as she was consumed by the bright lights of the store, and you stayed frozen in place for a few more moments.

Your head spun, Charlie’s words still consuming your thoughts as you chewed at your lip. Just as you were about to head back to the waiting group, you heard grumbling from behind you, and the door to the back alleyway opened wide.

Alma ambled inside, returning from a friend’s business a few stores over. A large bag in her claws as she lumbered towards you, 

“I smell customers, are they Sinners? Ugh. Here, take this and put it in the freezer right away. I’ll go up front and get them out of here.” 

“Of course,” you replied, hardly listening while still untangling your racing thoughts. The box was changed to your arms, and you took it with a huff before lowering it gently next to the freezer.

You watched Alma enter the front of the store, chattering loudly to the group of demons you had acquainted yourself with as you pried open the box. Slabs of fresh meat were revealed underneath the thin, soaked red parchment shielding them. You wet your lips subconsciously, that ache in your stomach returning as you inhaled the flavorful, wafting scents.

Hopefully, you’d start craving something much more tasteful like ice cream or peanut butter.

Taking time to pack away the stacks of goods only kept your mind busy from Charlie’s offer. You still felt uneasy with her proposal, for all you knew, it could be a trick or some way to wrap you into a deal. There was no way someone like her existed in someplace like Hell.

That doubt still crept up your spine as you stood at the gates of her aging little hotel the next day, nestled on top of a small hill on the outskirts of the bustling city. Charlie’s handmade business card was clenched tightly in your hand, as your eyes read the address one last time before taking a deep, reassuring breath.

The hotel didn’t look too bad, in your opinion. An honest fixer-upper that would look really beautiful if done correctly. The colors were a little odd, not to mention the structure of the building was weird. Jagged even, as different parts jutted out from the center, your eyes traced the outline of what seemed to be… a boat? One that was nestled tightly against the outer walls of the hotel. The building seemed refined, like the owner before the apple-cheeked woman had good taste. Overall, if you did choose to stay here, it wouldn't be too bad of a place.

Except… why did it have to be on top of a hill?! Just the sight of the trek you were going to have to endure made your ankles start to ache, and you groaned, head thrown up in the air as your feet dragged up the cracked concrete path. 

‘Did these guys ever think of investing in a ramp?’ you groaned internally, wiping sweat from your brow as you continued the strenuous hike. If this were the kind of difficulties you were going to face throughout your pregnancy, you would have taken more laps around the block in preparation for this moment.

Sputtering for breath, and only halfway up, you rested for a moment with a huff. How many steps have you taken? To keep your shame, you refrained from counting as you continued the climb. Another two months, and this would be impossible, which made you deflate even more. 

You hated feeling so… helpless, useless, weak. People looked at you differently, as if you were the child, incapable of being able to support your own weight. Which was another reason you were resistant to the idea of moving here, you didn’t want to feel like a charity case–or a burden–to Charlie and her friends. Hopefully, you’d prove to them today there was more to you than the baby in your womb.

The final step up to the front doors was a hefty one, and you fought the urge to roll over in defeat on their doormat. You shot the cement path the finger, before turning towards the large oak doors. You squinted, trying to get a peek through the stained glass windows as you leaned in slightly.

‘Stop being so creepy and knock,’ you growled at yourself, before lifting a closed fist and rapping it against the sturdy, wood frame of the entryway.

Knock Knock

No response, but you waited patiently with clasped hands and a bright smile ready to go.

Knock Knock

You thought you heard shuffling behind the door, but still no response. You rolled your eyes in irritation, crossing your arms. It was getting hot out here and you needed somewhere to sit down. What kind of a hotel doesn’t greet their gues–

The large door opened slowly with a loud creak, revealing a tall, red demon. He was dressed rather formally, with a nice red tuxedo that hugged his figure perfectly. Large ears sat above his head, small antlers poking from bright red hair that framed his face. His lips were curved into a wide, toothy grin that made the hair at the back of your neck stand on end as you met his ruby-like eyes. They stared intensely into your gaze, as if reading every thought behind those wide eyes, partially shaded by that equally red monocle resting atop his cheek.

What was up with this guy and the color red?

“Can I help you?” He finally asked sweetly, static dripping from his voice, paired with a strange overlay that seemed to pour from his tongue as you watched him speak. It sounded as if he was speaking right through an aging microphone. With the door only partially cracked, you didn’t see much behind that large, charming smile of his.

“Hello, uhm, good sir! I’m looking for Charlie? She and I talked yesterday and–”

“Ohmygoshitsyoucomein!!” The words rolled off Charlie’s tongue just as she popped up right beside the smiling demon. She wrapped her hands around your forearms and pulled you through the threshold with a squeal. A gasp left your lips as you were dragged gleefully inside, and the door shut softly behind you.

For the next few hours, Charlie gave you a tour of the hotel while sharing her visions for the future. Dreams of happy days in Hell, and a second chance for the sinful. Sinners being redeemed and going to Heaven? Was that even possible? You didn’t know, and it didn’t really matter if they could, seeing as you weren’t one of them. 

You got better introductions to the residents, including new faces. Alastor, the demon from the front door, who welcomed you with that exotic voice and a humble demeanor that made you feel somewhat at ease. His voice seemed familiar though, reminiscent of horrible, violent rumors of a powerful demon on the prowl. One that scooped up Overlords and sent them to their doom. 

Why were people afraid of you being dangerous, when demons like Alastor resided under the same roof? He may have not looked at you with that same hunger he showed his enemies, but he still could send you six feet under in an instant. Which made your unease grow a little more, as you thought about the safety of your child.

Then, there was Niffty, the freaky little cleaning lady who had a constant itch to stab things. When she saw your baby bump, she lit up, rushing towards you with a skip in her step. You froze, watching the tiny woman approach you with a bashful grin.

“Can I touch the baby?” She sent you a puppy-dog stare through one large, glittering eye. Her arms were behind her back as she twirled innocently, a small, toothy smile on her lips.

“Oh, well, I don’t really mind,” you said softly, lowering yourself slightly so she could reach a hand up and place a warm palm on the fabric lying against your abdomen. She giggled softly as she rubbed your stomach tenderly for a few moments, as if she was petting your child directly through her soft touches.

“Do you have a name for it?” Nifty asked, lowering her arm back to her side.

“Not yet, but I’ll figure it out,” you had said, before turning your attention back to Charlie. Finally, the last stop of your little tour was getting a peek at one of the rooms you’d be staying in. Crossing a single hallway, the two of you stood in front of a dark, wooden door. With a twist of the handle, the apple-cheeked woman pushed open the door, and your breath stilled as you leaned through the threshold.

It was a rather large room, fully furnished to replicate a master bedroom. A bed, two dressers, a large wardrobe, even a small dining table with matching chairs on the other side of the room. You stepped into a white-tiled bathroom, taking in the large maroon bathtub and matching colored sinks. Everything looked clean, and honestly, the rooms didn't match the exterior of the hotel. There wasn’t much to complain about, other than some aging upholstery and building cobwebs.

You stepped back into the large bedroom, Charlie following your figure with a hitched breath as you circled the room again, inspecting it closely. You halted, silent for a few moments, before you pivoted to face the demon woman. 

“So, this is free? No strings attached?”

“Yep!” Charlie beamed.

“No secret legally binding agreement that I’m about to shake on?”

“Of course not!” 

“Well…” you started, brows furrowing in thought as you looked around the room. Charlie stared at you with apprehensive eyes, unable to read your expression as you considered your options, “I’d have to find a place closer to work, or figure out transportation from Alma’s”

“Work?” Charlie inquired.

“How else am I supposed to afford food and other necessities? I can’t just sit around all day waiting to pop!” You raised an eyebrow at the woman, 

“The point is you’re supposed to take it nice and easy until you’ve had your baby! Don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of food to go around. Plus, I’m sure we can find a place to buy some baby essentials, like diapers and a crib. Whatever you want!” Charlie argued, that smile never faltering as she tried to win you over with charm.

“You’re just going to spend money like that on me?”

“That’s right! Like I’ve said, I’m willing to do anything to support my people.”

“But… how can you afford that? Who are you?”

“I guess I haven’t told you, huh?” Charlie laughed nervously, before rubbing her neck with a sigh, “I’m not a big fan of telling people right off the bat, but my full name is Charlie Morningstar.” 

Morningstar? As in the royal family? Charlie was the daughter of the king of Hell, Lucifer Morningstar? Oh dear. This was a joke, right?

You felt your heart beat rapidly, and you placed a hand on your chest to calm its racing pace. The Princess of Hell was standing right in front of you like she was any normal demon, which was crazy. The fact you were standing in front

“Your Majesty!” You lowered your head quickly, averting your gaze respectfully.

“Please don’t!” Charlie shook her head, walking up to you, “I don’t want you to regard me any differently just because I'm royal and all. I just want to help you.”

Slowly, she lifted a hand, lacing her fingers gently with yours as she stared at you with pleading eyes. You could feel the truth in her words practically radiating from her as she waited for your answer, her tone the complete opposite of manipulative, and you bit your lip in thought.

‘Please, live here,’ you read through her glistening gaze.

“Okay,” you finally said softly, a smile slowly creeping onto your lips as you looked up at her.

“Really?” Charlie asked, her eyes lighting up as you nodded in response, and she bounced giddily in place, “This is great! I can’t wait to tell everyone! Oh, I am so happy you said yes. We’ll need a day to prepare, but you probably need a day to pack anyway. Oh! I almost forgot…”

Charlie filled your head with more chatter about what was in store now that you were studying, and you listened intently as the two of you strolled down the hallway back into the lobby. By the time you made it to the front door, your feet were sore from all the walking, and your eyes were tired and droopy as you munched on a sandwich Sir. Pentious had kindly made for you as you left the hotel. 

When you passed through the open front doors, you turned back to Charlie, and a few other demons behind her. 

“Thank you for being so kind to open up your home to me,” you said softly to the small group, “I’ll be back tomorrow with my things. Have a good day!”

“Bye!”

“See ya, momma!”

“Ssssstay hydrated!”

By the time you walked the block and a half to the dark purple store on the corner, the air had cooled considerably, and the walk wasn’t so bad this time. The fans were silent, hibernating for their next use as you walked across the cracked tile of the shop, your boss fussing with change behind the checkout counter as you approached.

“Leaving?” Alma had asked slowly when you finally dared to inform her of your decision. The demon was mid-count of the register, her long neck lifting so she could meet your gaze with a curious expression.

“Yes, someone offered me a place to stay until I have the baby,” you nodded, rubbing your arm soothingly as you spoke, watching her expression carefully, “I believe it would be in my best interest to take that opportunity. I’m sorry for the short notice, so you can keep my paycheck if you want. I’ll be out of here by tomorrow, probably.”

Alma squinted at you, deep in thought as one claw tapped absentmindedly against the cracked, wooden countertop. The turtle demon grunted, before lowering herself to reach underneath the register, pulling out a long piece of paper and setting it onto the counter. 

Dipping a claw in ink, Alma scribbled some numbers onto the paper, before signing her name below. Carefully, she lifted the parchment towards you, quirking a scaly brow at your hesitation. Extending a hand, you took the paper from her hold and turned it over. It was a check, with the remainder of your pay. Eyes widening, your head lifts to meet the old demon’s calm gaze.

“Take care of yourself, then,” Alma croaked, nodding her head slightly at you as she continued to count the cash register. A smile bloomed across your lips, and you quietly turned towards your room, excitement to be out of that cramped little room making you move a little faster as you began to pack your things.

“Alright, everyone. My dad is going to be here in… one hour.” Charlie smiled awkwardly, eye twitching slightly as her disheveled figure addressed the small group of demons inside the lobby of the hotel.

You sat on the couch, munching on a morning snack as she spoke. The small bowl filled with goodies rested atop your swollen belly, now larger since you moved in a while ago. Apart from the sudden dizziness and aching back, some good things came with being pregnant, like your personal little dining table in the shape of a watermelon. 

Sometimes, you’d practice balancing different items atop the growing swell. Cups, books, anything that gave you some entertainment now that were limited in physical activities–mostly declared by Charlie, but you didn’t complain too much–and stuck inside most days. To an outsider, what you were doing may have seemed weird or strange. But, seeing as they weren’t the ones lugging around a whole nother being, no one had room to talk about what you did for amusement.

Once, you even let Niffty build Jenga on top of your bump, as you lay comfortably out on the sofa in the lobby. The little structure tipped slightly on the unlevel surface, and you did your best to control your breathing to keep it from toppling over as she gingerly placed each rectangular block. Angel Dust had walked into the lobby, adorned in revealing clothes and cat-eye sunglasses. His features were exhausted and drained as he halted in his tracks at the sight.

“What are you two doin’?” He slowly asked, lifting the shades from his face as he watched with a perplexed expression.

“Angel~,” you called, lifting your head with a smile to meet his gaze, “Fancy playing a little bit of risky Jenga? We were just about to start.”

The spider demon seemed to want to reject the offer, before his eyes flitted across the empty room–save for the familiar bartender cleaning glasses–to the clock. It was about eight o'clock at night, a Friday, and the pornstar was trying to find any possible reason to stay inside tonight. For once, Angel Dust was party-pooped.

“Huska’, pour me a tall one, won’tcha? I gotta get in my zone,” He had called towards the bar, his golden tooth glinting as he shot you a sly, toothy grin. 

The next rounds encompassed you trying desperately not to laugh at the sensations of the game. After each block was expelled, it tumbled down your tummy and tickled at your skin. You clasped a hand over your mouth, holding in your laugh as your stomach twitched, and the small structure began to teeter.

“Hey! Watch it, mama,” Angel laughed, grimacing slightly as the Jenga tower jiggled again, “I’m about to win!”

Niffty giggled beside him as you kept your mouth covered, unable to say a word with the fear that your laughter would bubble up past your lips given the chance. You stilled yourself and regained composure, the blocks settled back into place.

“What if…” Niffty said, a mischievous grin on her face as she lifted a claw towards you. Your eyes followed her finger right as it reached your abdomen, and you tensed, trying to prepare for the inevitable.

“Niff!” Angel gasped with a glare, right as the small white finger poked you in the side. Even with her claw, the touch was like a feather against your skin and you had no control as you reacted to the ticklish feeling. 

“Nif—HA!” You had blurted with a snort, your body pitching forward slightly at the sensation. Your lips quivered into a clasped smile just as the blocks tumbled over, losing their balance on top of your bump. They slid across the floor, and you sat up quickly.

“That’s it, missy!” Angel Dust rose to his full height, pointing an accusatory finger at Niffty’s innocent expression, “You sabotaged me on purpose! You did this at UNO last night, and I won’t have it no longer!” 

Pivoting abruptly on his heels, Angel adjusted his tight outfit and pulled back his hair, before he turned his head towards the two of you.

“Goodnight, ladies! This star needs his beauty sleep!” He waved as he strutted away, leaving Niffty to clean up the mess and you to return Angel’s empty drink to the bar. 

That day had tested your limits on how useful the bun in your oven was as a food rest, and you stuck to small items after that. Such as the bowl in front of you that you were tiredly nibbling on as you watched Charlie pace in place, anxiety obvious on her features as she muttered to herself.

The others around you tensed, before they dashed off in different directions, breathing heavily as if whatever was to be done was extremely important. You turned your head, watching them flee in confusion. 

Then, Charlie’s words finally computed in your head, the morning brain fog waning as you slowly sat up. Blinking, you rubbed a hand down your face, rubbing the sleepiness from your features as you processed the information. 

Charlie’s father, Lucifer Morningstar, was coming to the hotel? In one hour? 

The king of Hell, the most powerful man in the realm. Whose face had long since disappeared from the public eye, when before it adorned every magazine and cover photo that one could buy. 

What was he to think of you, a nobody with a boring story and a baby on the way? 

You felt a slight nudge inside your stomach, your child softly prodding your side, maybe in an attempt to get you moving as you shot up from the couch. 

“Your dad is coming here right now?” You asked approaching Charlie, and she stopped in her tracks to face you. 

“Yes,” she nodded, biting her lip, “I haven’t seen him in years, and his opinion of the hotel isn’t the most optimistic.” 

It seemed like it was difficult for Charlie to speak about her father, as if her—as husk had put it—‘daddy issues’ made the topic of her familial relationships sour on her tongue. 

“He’s just going to come and visit? That doesn’t seem too bad, I’m sure the place will grow on him after a quick tour.” 

“He’s my only ticket to Heaven,” Charlie sighed, using a hand to rake her unkempt hair back, “Everything has to be perfect. We just need to clean a little, put some balloons up, 

“What does your dad like to eat?” You said after a few moments. 

“What?” Charlie stared at you with perplexity, tilting her head slightly with a quirked brow.

“Well, as you know I’ve been practicing in the kitchen a lot, learning to bake and all that, and I believe it would be a nice idea if we made something your dad enjoys. That way, he feels welcome and less apprehensive.”

That was true, you had started working in the kitchen daily ever since you moved to the hotel. With Charlie being so kind and offering for you to live there for free until your baby was born, and the fact your large bump made it difficult to do many physical activities, you decided to stick to something more hands-on and less strenuous. 

Surprisingly, it was actually quite fun. Most days, you’d flip through pages of recipes from a cookbook Alastor had loaned to you, looking for that one treat that made your mouth water and the little bean inside of you flip around in excitement. The kitchen inside the hotel was actually quite large, with multiple fridges and ovens with wide counters that wrapped around the room. 

You’d gather all the different ingredients, following the directions closely as you worked. Sometimes, your feet would be so sore you’d pull up a chair and listen to some music while you quietly cut cookies into various cute little shapes, before decorating them and handing them out to all the residents inside the large building. 

Except Alastor, who claimed to hate anything sweet when you stood before him in the lobby one afternoon.

“Thank you for the kind gift, my dear, but I seem to have been born without that fabled sweet tooth. Chocolates are not my cup of tea.” The charming demon had told you, politely waving off your outreached hand as you held a small brownie with a frown.

“So… what do you like?” Your arm lowered, and you stared at the brownie for a moment. The thought of putting it in your mouth instead was very tempting.

“Have you ever tried Jambalaya?” 

“I don’t think so,” you shook your head.

“Hm. Well, perhaps you can add that to your list of recipes to try? With all that work you’ve been putting into cooking, I'm sure it’ll be no difficulty for you to concoct.” Alastor had tilted his head thoughtfully at you, hand resting leisurely against his cane as he leaned against the bar’s counter.

You had sent him a warm smile, slightly surprised by his good words. He didn’t seem like the kind of man to give others praise over himself unless it benefited him. 

Conquering the kitchen was a little more difficult than you previously imagined, and the two charred ovens on the other side of the room were a testament to that. 

At first, the confidence in your work was pretty poor. Whenever Niffty or Charlie would ask what you were making, you’d simply smile bashfully and quietly state you were making treats. One time, you let Sir. Pentious take a bite out of your chocolate cheesecake, which ended in the snake demon lying splayed out on the floor from a sugar crash after he devoured the entire pan of it. 

Needless to say, after most of your new friends begged for more delicacies from your hand, you let your ego swell a bit at all the praise. Now, the Egg Bois were deemed your official taste testers and would huddle around your area as you let them lick the extra dough from your used bowl. 

“More!” They’d cry happily, indicating another successful batch of sugar cookies. 

Now, you hoped your skills had improved enough to sweep the king of Hell off his feet. 

“What does my dad like…” Charlie said after a moment, pulling you back to reality as she squinted her gaze, rubbing her chin in thought. 

You stood there silently, waiting for a response. For some reason, Charlie was having trouble recalling anything of value at first, muttering this and that. Does she really not know what kind of things her own father liked? How long has it been exactly since they had a proper conversation?

“Apples!” Charlie finally proclaimed, nodding at herself in approval, “My dad loves apples, can’t get enough of them, it’s even on the royal seal.” 

Apples, the only earthly fruit to find itself all the way down in the pits of Hell. Even the harmless produce got the heavenly treatment by the big guys upstairs, and would never be allowed through the pearly gates since The Fall. 

Being born in Hell, you never got to experience life like humanity above, but at least the one good thing was that Heaven didn’t get to enjoy the savory goodness that was the red fruit. 

They seemed to be a cultural treat back on the living plane and came in all kinds of varieties. Pie, cake, chips, juice, alcohol, syrup, cereal? Humans couldn’t get enough of the fruit! Was there even a combination left to create with the crisp, tarty goodness?

Wait… that’s it! 

“Apple tarts!” You blurted excitedly, clapping your hands.

“What?” Charlie asked as you moved forward, taking her hand in glee.

“I’ll make him some apple tarts! I’m sure that’ll improve his mood and be more agreeable to you! I’ve got to get to the kitchen though, see you in an hour!” You spoke quickly as you hurried off, Charlie trailing your figure with wide eyes.

As you slid into the kitchen, your hand immediately dug for your phone, as you quickly pulled up any five-star recipe for the tarted treat. Then, there was frantic mumbling coming from your left, and you lifted your head to see a large figure rummaging through a fridge. The demon’s tail lashed nervously behind him as he stuffed more ingredients into his arms.

“Sir. Pentious?” 

The figure pulled his head out of the fridge in surprise, hitting his head on the way out with a grunt before pivoting to face you. 

“Itssss you!” He breathed out in relief, holding a clawed hand to his chest as he regained composure.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why, I am baking cookies for His Majessssty!” He held out the small pile of items towards you, before slithering to a corner of the kitchen on the opposite side of you, “What about you?”

“Apple tarts! I guess we’ll see who’s he prefers, huh?” You called playfully as you bent down with a grunt to collect utensils and mixing bowls hastily. 

“Ah, yesssss. Nothing like a friendly competition in the heat of the kitchen.” Sir. Pentious chuckled nervously, as he continued to pull ingredients from the cabinets, just as you were doing the same.

You grimaced at the cooking time of the apple tarts, it was going to be very close, but you were set on this delicious goodness and a little apprehension wasn’t going to stop you yet.

As you worked, you heard the remnants of your friends preparing outside of the kitchen, somewhere in the lobby. Heavy footsteps reverberated across the tile as they hurried about, and the sounds of plastic stretching, like balloons being blown up and the soft screeching of tables being moved around followed soon after.

You did your best to ignore the background chatter, as you sat upon your cushioned stool, a knife in your hand as you began to thinly slice a few apples in front of you. The recipe was simple, some apple slices atop the pie crust smothered in honey, cinnamon, and sugar. You weren’t sure what kind of apples they–you assumed it was Alastor who did the shopping–had stored, but hopefully Lucifer would enjoy it nonetheless. 

Thankfully, you already had a few pans of pie crust premade for another recipe, and began to slather the sugary syrup onto the crust, your mouth watering as you arranged the apple crisps on top. Sir. Pentious fussed with an appliance across the room from you, hopefully, the poor guy hadn’t forgotten to preheat the oven while he was prepping.

After throwing the tarts into the oven you set the timer, watching the apples begin to sizzle and shrink slightly against the pounding heat. Taking a large swig of water, you grabbed a small spoon from the counter before sweeping it against the side of a used mixing bowl and turning towards your friend cleaning the dishes.

“Sir. Pentious!” You called, holding out a small spoon towards him. That honeyed goodness oozed slightly from the edge as you presented the snake demon with some of your cooking. He slithered forward, his eyes wide with interest as he stared at the mixture on the spoon, before gingerly taking it from your grip and inspecting it.

The demon didn't hesitate to part his lips and swipe his tongue across the sugary batter, before letting it swirl on his taste buds for a few moments. Slowly, his eyes lit up, and his lips curled into a large, fanged grin. 

“Mmm! It iss deliciousness!” Sir. Pentious melted in front of you, before placing the entire end of the spoon in his mouth and sucking on it like a lollipop. The snake turned, before plucking out a chunk of dough at the bottom of his used mixing bowl. 

“Ssssalmonella free!” He smiled, the doughy ball held out between two long claws extended towards you. Right, he probably doesn’t use eggs in his cooking. Especially so close to the Egg Bois, who worked near the sink to quickly wash the dirty utensils spread about Sir. Pentious’ station. You even noticed one or two running over to your work area, and grabbing used dishes to clean. You would have to thank them for that later.

Reaching out, you gingerly took the cookie dough before placing it between your lips and chewing softly. The flavors hit your tongue, and you perked at the intense, sugary taste of the dessert. Sir. Pentious had taken the classic route and baked some very delicious sugar cookies, and you licked your lips of any remaining dough.

“Very good! Save one for me after the party, hm?” 

“I sssuppose we are an even match, then!” Sir. Pentious declared, sending you a large smile before turning away to watch over his Egg Bois. 

You turned away, your eyes darting up to the clock as it ticked closer and closer to the new hour. Soon, Lucifer Morningstar would be here, and hopefully, your apple tarts would please the most powerful man in Hell. Was he as handsome as the magazines made him out to be? Your eyes had always traveled to his porcelain figure in the supermarkets, that sultry, playful gaze he shot the camera that practically beckoned you with a hot, invisible finger. 

The ethereal radiance he exuded even trapped inside that paper cover already made your cheeks warm and your skin tingle, you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel when he was standing right in front of you. Especially when it came to your recent increase in… passionate perspectives.

You shook yourself, attempting to rid your mind of such thoughts as you groaned into your hands. You sat on your stool, waiting quietly in the dimly lit kitchen for your treats to finish. The lobby had quieted down since you had begun, now more casual discussion along with rustlings of party decor being adjusted and preps of introductions. You paid the others' conversations no mind, deep in thought as you brushed a thumb across your stomach softly.

The timer suddenly rang loudly in your hands, and you jumped from your seat slightly at the noise in your palm. The small, white clock vibrated in your grip, and you rushed to reset the mechanism to end its cry. You looked up at the clock hanging on the wall once more, how long had you just been sitting there thinking about gorgeous men? Lucifer could show up any minute! 

Settling the timer gently atop the marble counter, you slid off the seat and reached for the oven mitts next to the sink. Striding to the oven, you pulled its door open, the rush of hot air hitting your cheeks.

‘Imagine being late to greet the king of Hell,’ you growled to yourself as your eyes snapped to the clock on the wall, the new hour finally arriving, ‘A great first impression, good going.’

The yummy goodness in your grasp sizzled as you pulled the pan from the oven, breathing in the delicious scents deeply before placing the metal dish on the top of the stove. Steam billowed off the golden-brown apple slices, the cinnamon mixture oozing slightly underneath the thin crisps of fruit. 

Hurriedly, you cut into the tart, slicing the pie-like treat into smaller slices before placing them gently onto a separate tray. By the time you threw the remaining dirty dishes in the sink and made your way to the door of the kitchen, you heard those familiar rasps against the hotel’s front door. 

Knock Knock

You halted in your tracks right when Charlie swung open the front door to reveal a handsome, pearlescent figure bursting in to wrap his arms around his daughter. Those platinum blonde locks bounced softly underneath his tall brim hat, as he settled beside his daughter as they chatted. You were unprepared for those soft, yellow eyes that swept across the room with a playful glint in their gaze, or the confident, charming smirk that seemed so natural on the fallen angel’s features. 

That air of superiority radiated from Lucifer’s figure, with every demon in the room aware of the raw power he possessed. Those tantalizing stories of a ruthless and blood-thirsty ruler of Hell who crushed anyone who so much as sent him a heated glance refreshed in everyone’s memories as they smiled widely. The fallen angel hadn’t stayed in such a sought-after position since Hell’s creation for no reason, as only Heaven could match his strength. 

Lucifer made no show of the deadly undertones in his proximity, however, as he strolled farther into the lobby with a relaxed grin as Charlie introduced him to Angel and Sir. Pentious. The king’s looks were only improving every step he took closer towards your spot hiding behind the kitchen door, your breath hitching as you traced his figure from the cracked doorway. The tarts weren’t the only thing in the room making your mouth water anymore.

Should you just stay in here until he goes away? Mail the tarts to him, instead? Surely, meeting you wasn’t that important, and there was always a next time to introduce yourself. Inhaling a sharp breath, you shook your head to ease your nerves and expel those anxious thoughts. You were no coward, and even the prettiest face in Hell wouldn’t stop you from handing Lucifer the bakery sweets.

“I guess that’s why they called it the Has-Been Hotel, eh?” You heard Lucifer laugh from across the room, and you poked your head out from the doorway. 

Eavesdropping into the conversation for a few more moments, you gripped the small tray in your hands tightly as you waited for the perfect time to make your sneaky entrance. Right when his eyes left the place near Husk you were planning on scooching into, you took your chance and hurried across the lobby. 

Everyone’s eyes were on Lucifer and Alastor bickering, and it didn’t seem like anyone noticed as you slipped next to the shorter feline. That was until you felt the side of your stomach connect with the table's edge, and it slid slightly with a sickening screech. You clamped your mouth shut to stop a frustrated curse from leaving your lips as you tensed.

Curious gazes locked onto your figure, and the tray in your hands slowly lowered onto the table as you felt sweat bead down your forehead from the unwanted attention. The plan was to be as low-key as possible when you joined the group, not be thrust into the spotlight! 

Lucifer turned, his gaze landing on your stomach before anything else, and your breath hitched as his eyes lit up with an unreadable gleam. The king traveled up your figure, before resting on your face, and his eyes seemed to widen even more as he stared for a moment.

Gosh, how embarrassing. If he decided to burst out laughing at your clumsiness or make a public spectacle of your interruption, maybe it’s something you deserve—

“Woah!” Lucifer suddenly perked, before leaning backward, squinting his eyes as if he just got hit by a harsh ray of angelic light, “Someone tell Heaven they dropped one of their halos down here….” 

A pair of sunglasses materialized between his fingers as the fallen angel shimmied past Charlie, and you watched with wide eyes as he practically leaped over the table to reach your figure at the other end. 

“Because you are glowing, mama!” The king slid right up next to you, lifting the shades from his face as he waggled his eyebrows with a devilish smirk. Heat crept across your cheeks, and you smiled bashfully at his antics. Lucifer Morningstar was right next to you, and even so, up close you couldn’t find a single imperfection on his features. 

The demons around you blurred as you and Lucifer locked eyes for a few moments longer, the expressions flicking through your gazes enough to cover the silence. Lucifer’s smirk turned into a soft smile as his eyes flicked to your stomach then back to you with an adoring glimmer, his features gentle as he lifted a hand out towards you.

“Please,” you laughed softly, tilting your head away to try and hide the heat that was practically pouring off your face as you slid your fingers into his palm, “That’s just a fairytale, I’d say the truth of my appearance is the opposite right about now.”

The warmth radiating off of Lucifer’s porcelain skin made you want to melt like butter. You felt the ache in your joints subside softly, along with the feeling of bliss from his touch that made goosebumps ripple across your skin. 

“No, seriously,” Lucifer’s grin widened, patting your hand softly, “Even I am envious of your glow, sweetheart. You look great.”

You resisted the urge to scream into your hands like some kind of lovesick teenager at his words. Geez, you barely said a few sentences to this guy and he’s already trying to rizz you up. And it was working! 

“Thank you,” your voice cracked softly, and Lucifer gripped your hand tighter as he lowered himself slightly in a bow.

“Lucifer Morningstar!” He smiled as he met your graze once more, tipping his hat slightly as he spoke, “I’m sure you already know who I am, though, as do most who see my face. The question is, who are you?” 

That soothing warmth on your skin disappeared as Lucifer slowly released your hand and took a step back. You lowered your arm back to your side, silently pining for his soft touch against the fallen angel. 

“Oh, enough about me!” You wave off his question with a large grin, attempting to change the conversation, “You’re the special man we’re all gathered here for today!” 

Averting your gaze, you reach down towards a slice of apple tart on the tray nearby. The dessert is still slightly hot, and the heat that greets your skin followed by an itch of pain helps keep your focus in front of such a tasty snack. You were not talking about the tart.

Lucifer looks at it for a few moments, steam still slightly wafting from the golden-brown crisps of apples as you hold it towards him. The scents of cinnamon and honey hit the fallen angel’s nostrils, and he licked his lips subconsciously, eyes still locked onto your hand.

“What is this?” He quirked a brow, gaze flicking to the warm smile on your lips then back to the dessert.

“An apple tart,” you reply, your arm stretching farther towards him, “I heard a rumor that our ruler fancied red fruits, so I thought I’d welcome him with a snack.” 

Slowly, Lucifer lifted a hand and took the tart from your grasp. He turned it in his hands for a moment, before lifting it to his lips and taking a deep breath. The fallen angel sent you one last unreadable look before he placed the tart into his mouth. 

You licked at the crumbs on your fingers, savoring the little bit of flavor you received. Indulging yourself in food in front of the guy you were currently ogling over wasn’t on the top of your to-do list. You’d stick to satisfying your cravings in the privacy of your room. 

Lucifer chewed for a few moments, before he squinted in thought. He swallowed slowly, and then his eyes lit up with a surprised, but joyful, gleam. A smile bloomed across his lips as he reached over next to you to grab another of the pie-like treats.

“Okay, wow. I’m impressed. I might hire you as my personal baker from now on,” another tart was consumed by the king, as he licked hungrily at the cinnamon mixture that was dribbling down his chin. 

He seemed to be really enjoying them, which made you giddy inside. One, because Lucifer was enjoying your food, and two, because that would mean he was in a good enough mood for Charlie to convince him to get an audience with Heaven. 

“Dad,” Charlie finally broke the conversation between the two of you, before settling at your side. She put a gentle hand on your shoulder as she continued to speak, “This lovely lady was having a rough time with her living situation, so I offered her a place to stay while she was still expecting. She’s been a great addition to our little Hazbin family. Now, she’s taking it easy until the baby comes.” 

“That’s a good idea,” Lucifer nodded in agreement through the apple tart he was stuffing his face with. 

“I’m not completely useless,” you quickly interjected, clasping your hands together, “I help out around the hotel in any way I can, or however Alastor can use my assistance.”

“Right…” Lucifer shot Alastor, who was watching the three of you with interest a few feet away, a sharp glare as he spoke, “Your… manager over there isn’t pushing you too hard, is he?”

What was that? It sounded like Lucifer had held in a growl when he asked that, you could feel the reverberations from his throat underneath his tone. 

“Alastor has been nothing but kind to me, everyone here has. His Majesty is too kind to care for me like this. Don’t worry, I haven’t done anything that could affect me or the baby.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Lucifer said, as picked up the last tart from the tray.

The king’s gaze rested on you as you looked at the tart longingly, your stomach growling softly as you imagined the treat between your teeth. You had eaten breakfast, had a snack before Lucifer’s arrival, and had some cookie dough from Sir. Pentious, yet you were still hungry? Where was your self-respect in front of the most important figure in the realm?

Lucifer must have noticed your hungry gaze, as he split the tart apart and handed a small piece towards you. You stared at it for a moment, before shaking your head and gesturing silently for him to eat it while you heard Charlie conversing quickly with Vaggie nearby. 

The king didn’t let you refuse, when he squinted his eyes at you with a stern look and pushed the tart closer to your face, to where it was almost grazing your lips. 

With a sigh, you send him a warm smile in thanks and reach for the tart. It crumbled slightly in your hand and you quickly shoved the whole thing into your mouth, lifting a hand to shield your immodesty as you chewed softly. 

Fuck, that tasted so good. Your time in the kitchen has improved your skill as you happily continued chewing down the dessert, a content smile on your lips as you stood next to Lucifer.

“Just make sure not to let that creep over there make you do anything you don’t want to do,” Lucifer held a hand up to hide his mouth from the onlookers, shielding the quiet words that left his lips, “If you ever need me to smite him…” 

“Dad!” Charlie gasped, shooting her father a stern glare. 

“A joke, a joke,” Lucifer chuckled, elbowing his daughter softly in the side before turning away from you. 

It was then that the chandelier above everyone’s heads swayed dangerously, the rusting bolts loosening slowly from their hold against the thick plaster. You heard a soft creaking sound before your head shot up just as the bolts dislodged from their place and the large light fixture came crashing down.

It landed a few feet away from you, as glass shattered and splayed across the floor. You jumped in surprise, your hand automatically coming up to shield your stomach and Lucifer’s head snapped towards you in concern. You hadn’t been hurt, but his eyes still traced your figure for any injuries before he gave the chandelier a stink eye.

“Alright then,” Lucifer chuckled, and you watched with wide eyes as he slid from your side the floor beneath your feet shifted as he began to… sing? You backed away to the edge of the wall just as the fallen angel began to address his daughter, showcasing his magical talent as different objects poofed in and out of existence.

You had watched with wide, awe-struck eyes during the sudden musical number, your thoughts still on Lucifer's warm, gentle touch and his praise only moments before. Why was he so kind and out of the gate, was it because of your pregnancy? 

Did the king of Hell have a soft spot for babies, or did he take pity on your exhausted, worn figure? Even baking was becoming a chore, and standing on your feet for so long was beginning to wear down on you. Thankfully, the attention was finally off you now that Lucifer and Alastor were practically at each other's throats again. 

Did it matter what Lucifer thought of you? His attention alone made your thighs ache, and staring into those pretty eyes for too long made your lips dry and cracked and needed someone to wet them with their own.

Jesus, get it together! You just met the man, stop being such a weirdo! 

When you finally were pulled back into reality, blinking away the stars of hot emotions that were dancing on the edge of your vision, the music had ended and a strange, short woman had burst through the front doors of the hotel.

Mimzy, that was her name, and apparently a friend of Alastor’s back from their living days on Earth. You didn’t know Alastor had friends outside of the hotel, let alone friendly enough to embrace the woman. Even with all those nasty rumors about the red demon, Mimzy only looked at him with a playful glimmer in her eyes as she turned to get a look at the rest of the group. 

When she approached you with giddy steps and batted eyelashes as she grinned at your figure relaxing on the bar stool across the room. 

"Aw, suga, that baby bump of yours is just precious! I’ve neva’ seen one so adorable before! Who’s the lucky man?” Her eyes quickly scanned across the room, as if your baby daddy was hiding somewhere among the few pieces of furniture inside the large room. 

“Not here,” you replied with a sigh, “Never will be, unfortunately. He and I had some… disagreements a while ago. I haven’t seen him in months.”

Lucifer watched you carefully, drinking in your words with an unreadable expression from a distance before Charlie dragged him away to continue the tour around the hotel. 

"Aw, darlin', that's a tough break. But forget that fella! You're better off without him, sweetheart. Plenty of strong mamas out there held their own just fine. Down here in Hell, it's rough, but you don't need no man to look after you! Keep on keepin' on, hun."

You averted Mimzy’s gaze at her words with a bashful smile. Doubt had always itched at the back of your scalp, doubts of whether you were doing everything right and when you had the baby if you could be okay on your own. Now, you felt a surge of renewed confidence in how good of a mother you could be. The strange woman was right of course, you didn’t need a man to have a stable life. 

But, you still yearned for someone to caress you softly late at night, or whisper sweet words of adoration and care when you desperately needed it most. A man to kiss and cherish for the rest of your life, and someone who would love your baby as their own. 

Mimzy was loud and obnoxious as you sat next to her at the bar, but you assumed that’s what she did for a living, drawing people in with her charm to stay for drinks and watch her dance. Her job was to wow the crowd enough for them to give her and her flapping sisters big tips and lots of company.

She wasn’t too bad of a story-teller either, and as you and a few others listened to her story of Alastor’s interactions with previous overlords, you caught the way Husk growled when he spoke to her and how he’d shoot her icy glares whenever nearby. As if she was a rattlesnake ready to bring trouble, and only he could hear the warnings from her tail. 

You understood the suspicion the feline bartender was holding towards Mimzy when a large hole suddenly blew through the wall opposite from the bar, and harsh, angry voices snarled the flapper’s name. 

Adrenaline shot through your veins as you jumped from the bar stool, your first thought instantly going towards your baby. That maternal, animalistic urge to protect your child’s wellbeing at any cost, even if it meant sacrificing some of your own.

As your friends rushed around the room in a panic, and Alastor met the murderous loan sharks head-on outside, you locked eyes with Mimzy cowering underneath one of the bar stools. 

“I’m sorry, I just needed to get them off my back!” She grimaced as another explosion rocked the lobby, and you stumbled backward as debris from the ceiling fell across your shoulders. 

Your head snapped across the room, and you saw Alastor’s large demonic figure taking the brunt of the loan shark’s attacks. Tentacles whipped around him as they smashed a few snarling demons into a pulp against the ground. The thug’s aims weren’t very accurate, and some grenades bounced right past the giant demon’s figure and straight toward the hotel. 

Luckily, nothing had reached the inside of the building yet, but you weren’t going to take any chance as you turned on your heel towards the closed door of the kitchen. It was on the farthest side of the lobby and provided a large catalog of items you could use for self-defense.

If the time came when you had to cheese-grater a man across the face or make a kabob out of his eye, you had the tools to do so. 

As you moved, you turned your head to scan for the others still in the room. Sir. Pentious was slithering to cover behind a couch, Niffty tight in his hold as she lowered his head out of sight. Husk was somewhere behind the bar no doubt, and Angel Dust was poking his head out behind the large gap in the wall, cheering on Alastor’s bloodlust. 

Lucifer, Charlie, and Vaggie were still unaccounted for, most likely somewhere on the opposite side of the hotel by now. There wasn’t a doubt that the three of them heard all the chaos, but would they get here fast enough to lend a hand? Alastor was powerful, but he couldn’t be in two places at once if one or two thugs decided to take the fight inside. 

Right now seemed to be a really nice time to put that pure angelic power to good use!

Your ears rang loudly, heart pounding, right as you reached the kitchen door. You wrapped your fingers around the handle and pulled on it harshly. Except, the door didn’t budge. Again, you pulled on the handle, grunting with effort right as the floor shook beneath you. Your side harshly hit the door as you stumbled forward, before inhaling a sharp breath. 

You were stuck, the door behind you locked tight. 

Had the door locked from the inside when you had left earlier? You didn’t remember closing it, but perhaps the musical shenanigans from before blew a strong enough gust of wind to shut it tight. 

Your eyes darted across the room, looking for any other place to run that could give you even an ounce of protection. Unfortunately, you weren’t flexible nor small enough to actually fit inside or behind anything for cover at the moment, which limited your options. 

A loan shark cried out for help right outside the gap in the wall, a tentacle wrapped around his meaty legs as he harshly yanked him backward. The demon’s high-pitched scream faded as he was flung over the black gates and off into the distance.

Your gaze lowered, catching sight of a grenade from one of the few remaining thugs bouncing right off Alastor’s back, and colliding with a large boom against the hotel’s roof. The ceiling shook, pieces of plaster falling from the sky as you ducked to try to avoid them. Angel Dust dove behind the bar, beckoning you from across the room to join him and Husk as they lay low against the tile. 

Did they think you could actually run across the room before another explosion hit the hotel?

You didn’t have a chance to join them anyway, as a large support beam above your head shook violently, before the wall crumbled around the long, wooden post and it began to dislodge from its fasteners. 

Before one could blink, the beam began to fall from its place against the ceiling, its trajectory aimed right on top of you. Angel gasped and placed a pair of hands on his face, shielding his eyes from your doom. Husk only stared in horror, mouth agape as the large object descended upon you.

Backing against the kitchen door, you shielded your head and curled your legs against your stomach. 

‘This is it, I'm a goner,’ you thought as you squeezed your eyes shut tightly, waiting for the blow. 

Except, it never came. Nothing happened, actually. The deafening sounds of chaos and war around you faded slightly, as if you placed a pair of headphones over your head. You didn’t feel the sting of pain, or the sound of the large beam crashing to the floor. 

You were still alive, that was for sure with how hard your heart pounded against your chest. 

Slowly, you lifted your head and cracked an eye open, a golden light blinding you for a moment as your pupils adjusted to the ethereal glow. A dome of energy crackled around you, casting a mesmerizing golden hue across your figure. The thick walls of energy around you aren’t completely opaque, and you can see the lobby in shambles, but your little area under the bowl is completely intact. 

Taking a deep breath, you relax slightly and slowly stand from the door, the sounds of chaos still audible as you hear another explosion and screaming thugs.

“Look, Charlie,” Lucifer’s chastising voice rose above the chaos, his head turning from you to his daughter as another support beam crashed beside them, “What did I tell you? This is what happens when you invite people in and be kind to them… nothing but trouble! You should still stick to helping people that actually need it.”

Your head turned, watching Lucifer lean lazily against his cane as Charlie scrambled around the room trying to help the others. His back was turned to you, but seeing you were sealed in a practically indestructible barrier while he continued to yap, your safety was guaranteed now.

Finally, Alastor swallowed up the last of the thugs, the large demon licked his blood-stained chops before slowly shrinking back into his original form. Dust still swirled around the lobby, but the explosions had ceased, and anything that was in danger of falling had already done so. 

The dome of energy surrounding you flickered out of existence, any trace of its magical essence vanishing as you took a tentative step forward. The intensity of the light made your head ache, and you rubbed your temple with a groan. 

“Are you okay?” Lucifer asked softly, coming up to stand beside you, his fingers wrapped around your arm tight as you steadied yourself.

“Yes, just a little dizzy, I’m fine now,” you turned to stare at the fallen angel with an assuring smile, right as his eyes scanned across your face, only for his brows to furrow at the sight.

“Wait, you’re bleeding,” Lucifer tensed, before his cane dropped beside him and his fingers slid down to your wrist, and he turned your hand over palm-up. On your index finger was a small cut, which oozed with a thin trail of black blood, before dripping onto the carpet below. 

Lucifer dug into a pocket inside his white overcoat, before pulling out a hand-embroidered handkerchief. He reached up to your forehead, gently brushing the fabric against your skin to clean it.

You must have smeared some blood on your face when you had previously rubbed it, that’s why he was so worried. There was no pain from the wound, and you had no idea where it had even come from.

“It’s just a scratch,” you assured, not pulling away from Lucifer’s hold on your hand as he dabbed softly at your forehead. 

That warmth bloomed from his touch again, sending a shiver up your spine and your eyes to droop placidly. It’d be a lie if you said you weren’t exhausted from everything that had happened today, and that energy he exuded only feeding the urge to cozy up on the sofa a few feet away.

“Better safe than sorry” he retorted, worry dripping from his voice as he tore off a clean piece of his handkerchief, wrapping it around your finger before tying it taut against your skin. His fingers still lingered against your palm, as the two of you stood there around the demons trying to pick up the place a little.

“I’m guessing you’re the one that put that barrier around me, hm?” You asked with a soft smile. 

“Well, I didn’t expect to walk into the room with you about to be impaled by a giant wooden stake. It was pretty crazy for a moment there… is the baby okay?” 

The fact he was also worried about your child made you gush silently, swooning harder for the fallen angel than before. 

“Fine,” you nodded, reaching a free hand to gently caress your bump, “I felt them moving a bit when you came over.”

The baby had been quite active recently. Doing backflips, karate kicks, and whatever else there was for entertainment inside your womb. Earlier, when you were baking, you took a painful jab to the side by the little one, and that wasn’t the first time today.

It was then that you felt it, a kick against your inner walls, causing you to jerk slightly from the surprise of it. Lucifer jumped from your reaction, and you sent him a large grin with wide eyes as you curled your fingers around his hand. 

“They’re moving right now, even!” You perked, gently tugging his arm towards you with giddiness. Nobody has ever felt your baby kick before, a privilege usually reserved for parents or the child’s father. You had neither of those now, so if it meant showing a stranger the same feelings of softness you experienced? So be it.

Lucifer tensed, frozen in silence from your bold actions as you placed his hand against the fabric of your outfit. You still for a few seconds, the fallen angel’s warmth on your stomach welcoming as you waited for the baby to move again. 

Luckily, they did, right against the king’s hand against your bump. He hitched a breath as soon as he felt the sensation of your little one’s movements, his eyes widening with fondness.

You smiled widely, your bump growing ticklish at the feeling of your child’s restlessness. Then, you felt something odd going on against your abdomen, and you lowered your head with wide eyes as the tip of Lucifer’s finger began to glow. A soft, golden light that sizzled at your fabric, before it seemed to seep underneath and into your skin.

It felt like someone was pouring caffeine directly into your bloodstream, the exhaustion dissipating from your mind in an instant and your heartbeat quickening. The painful throbbing in your ankles subsided, and you felt renewed energy even deep in your bones. 

The light seemed to grow across your bump, and the strange magic that was flooding your senses suddenly had your mind racing. Could it be hurting your child? 

“What are you doing?” You asked quietly, taking a nervous step backward away from his touch.

“What..? Oh!” Lucifer’s hand retracted to his side in an instant, his lips curving into an apologetic smile as he averted his gaze. He seemed nervous all of a sudden, eyes darting across the room before they landed on Charlie brushing dust off of Vaggie’s hair across the room. 

“My apologies, have a wonderful rest of your night,” The king of Hell tipped his hat to you, refusing to meet your gaze as he backpedaled and pivoted sharply away from you, and began strolling towards his daughter who turned to him with a frown. 

Your stomach twisted at his sudden exit, regret bubbling in you. Did your question come off as too confrontational? Lucifer didn’t exactly ask for your permission to do… whatever he did, so it wasn’t wrong to react the way you had. 

Watching Lucifer leave for a few moments, you sighed softly, hands rubbing together in a soothing motion. Looking around the room, you searched for something to busy yourself with as your mind continued to race. 

That was the last time you had spoken to Lucifer for the rest of the night, his sudden departure after reconciling with Charlie leaving you to stew silently with your thoughts. 

Would you meet the king again? You desperately hoped so.

Your thoughts stayed on Lucifer even after you awoke the next morning, and the morning after that. Thoughts of his gentle touch, his strange behavior, and the way his magic had filled you with such strength. 

You felt renewed vigor after that sweet encounter with the king. It was like getting shot with a dose of ibuprofen and adrenaline all at once. The soreness in your ankles subsided, the strain on your back lessened, and you felt, dare you say… lighter on your feet?

Was that what angelic magic was capable of? Lucifer’s touch felt like nothing you had ever experienced before, at least compared to some of the other demons in the hotel.

Alastor’s magic was freezing to the touch, and whenever he was visibly displaying his power in the vicinity, you began to notice how your breath fell from your lips like fog. The Radio Demon’s aura played with your fight or flight instincts, putting you on the edge whenever his smile sharpened, those spots in your vision filled with strange symbols as he shot predatory eyes towards enemies of the hotel. 

Fear was the driving force behind Alastor’s power, the elixir to spur that blood-lust in his veins. A similar feeling itched at the back of your scalp anytime Angel Dust returned from Valentino’s studio, the stench of an emotionally driven display of dominance that always led to someone curling against the cold, hard floor in anguish. While you held no reservations for the pleasant-speaking, red demon, you still regarded him with caution at the amount of trouble he could bring into your life at any moment. 

Charlie had a lot of potential for being half-angel, the same magical essence that flowed through Heaven also flowed through her veins, mixed with the demonic presence imbued into her parents when they fell. It made you feel uneasy, being surrounded by such powerful forces with a child on the way.

Except, Lucifer’s aura was much different. It made you feel… grounded, and safe, like you could conquer the world. A boost of confidence with a hint of child-like giddiness that made a soft smile grace your lips the entire rest of the day.

That soft, golden magic that spread across your skin made warmth bloom through your body and sent pleasurable tingles up your spine. It eased the strain in your muscles and settled your nerves like a refreshing sip of red wine after a long day, making you dizzy for more. Even though you were the one to pull away first, that desire to get closer to Lucifer again didn't fade the rest of his visit. Which only made you frustrated at your own chaotic emotions.

Growling, you inspected your appearance in the bathroom mirror, steam coiling around your face as the plush fabric of the towel soothed your soaked, heated skin as it dried the water dripping from your figure. 

Curse these pregnancy hormones, for making you think such disrespectful thoughts! He was the king of Hell, not some pretty dilf with a thing for babies that made heat creep across your cheeks–and in between your thighs–without a second thought.

“I blame you for this,” you shot a glare down to your bump, before exiting the bathroom with a huff and reaching your dresser.

You began to change in an outfit for the day, which was taking much longer than usual now that your stomach was growing rounder by the day. It was obvious you were close to your due date, and that filled you with joy and anxiety.

Joy, to be finally holding your baby into your arms and letting them snuggle against your warm chest. Communicating through soft lullabies and whispers with the only response being kicked to your bladder wasn’t exactly the thrills of your pregnancy. When you finally had the little bean in your life, you’d do everything you could to spoil them rotten. 

Your baby wasn’t exactly a ‘little bean’ anymore, but until you settled on a name, that was what you would continue to call them. 

Thoughts about your baby always made your anxiety spike, thinking about what you would have to do to bring your child into the world. Labor wasn’t pretty in any realm, and the exhaustion and pain that would come with it wasn’t something you liked to think about too often. 

What would happen if something went horribly wrong? Who… who would take care of your child? 

You only sighed as you finished dressing, slipping on comfortable footwear as you crossed your room towards the hallway door. The trek from your room to the lobby had become quite a strenuous one, since you slept across the hotel from everyone else. 

When you had first arrived, you still dealt with the occasional twisted stomach, especially after your nose began to identify once delicious smells as revolting to the point you were gagging just smelling a once beloved candle. 

At your request, Alastor had found you a room with a small balcony that faced away from the city. It was the cleanest air, and smelled the least sulfury as that side of the hotel was hit with large drafts of fresh—or whatever was close enough in a place like Hell—air that you welcomed on days where you felt like emptying your last meal constantly.

Now, the long walk was killing your ankles, and the staircase conveniently placed between you and the lobby made your path even longer when you had to slowly waddle down the stairs. You haven’t come close to slipping yet, but seeing as you couldn’t see your feet any longer, it would surely happen eventually. 

As the door to your room shut softly behind you, the plush carpet beneath your feet felt refreshing to your swollen appendages as you began strolling down the hallway. Yawning, you rubbed the remaining sleep from your eyes as you closed in on the staircase. Since waking up, an exhaustion deep in your bones had been plaguing you. Today, the only thing on the to-do list was to watch the newest episodes of ‘Hell’s Greatest Bachelor’ and sleep.

“What are you doing up there?” A familiar voice called from the bottom of the staircase, sending you a stern stare as he leaned against his cane.

You stopped, one foot hovering just above the first step as your head shot up and eyes widened as Lucifer stared at you with furrowed brows. What was he doing here? When did he get here, and why did you choose today to wear something comfy and casual? 

Was he still upset about what happened last time?

“My King? W-what are you doing here?” 

“I believe I asked you first. What are you doing all the way up on those steps?” 

“Does His Majesty now quarrel with the stairs?” You teased, trying to contain a playful smile. Whenever you were in the fallen angel’s presence, you almost caught your lips curving into a goofy grin that was paired with heated cheeks.

It seemed Lucifer was in much better spirits today, his demeanor more playful than stern, and you sighed softly with relief. 

“No!” The king huffed, before placing his black-heeled boots onto the plush, red carpet of the staircase and slowly made his way up to you, “What I quarrel with is someone trying to kill themselves! Do you know how dangerous this kinda thing is in your condition?”

There’s that word again, ‘Condition’. As if it is some illness that has befallen you and taken the use of your legs and critical thinking skills. Maybe it was just your emotions getting the best of you, but you really hated that word. 

“I asked Alastor to put me over here, these windows have the best airflow” you shrugged, taking another step down the staircase which Lucifer only grimaced at.

“Stop moving, let me get to you,” Lucifer growled softly, watching you with unease before leaping up the final steps to your waiting figure.

He halted at a step just above you, and for the first time, you had to look up to meet the king’s gaze.

“I’m pregnant,” you squinted slightly, sending Lucifer a small glare as you frowned, “Not handicapped.”

“I know, I know…” Lucifer lifted an elbow to you, a gentle beckon for you to take his arm as he spoke, “But it’s always good to be a little extra careful! It’s not like I'm bothered doing this kind of thing for you, anyway.”

“You’re the king,” you take his gesture, sliding your arm around his as you lock elbows, warmth radiates from his touch and you relax slightly, “It’s demons like me who should be waiting on you like this.”

“I’m Lucifer Morningstar,” he puffed his chest slightly, quirking a playful brow at you, “I don’t need anyone to wait on me, because I can do it all with a snap of a finger.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile as he guided you down the stairs, silence following his proclamation. It was quite a long staircase and stole your breath most times you tried to climb it. Hopefully, this daily exercise would mean your next match with the cracked concrete path down the hill outside would be in your favor.

Lucifer’s hold on you was gentle but firm, as he used his other hand to softly tap his cane against each step. It was rhythmic, with purpose, and you thought in the silence of the large room you could hear him humming a soft tune, as he stared off in the distance.

“What are you singing?”

“I was singing something?” Lucifer perked, before he sent you an apologetic smile. 

“I don’t mind it,” you replied with a soft smile, turning your head to meet his gaze, “Your voice is very… pretty.” 

His eyes widened, face flushing slightly at the words that left your lips, which also caught you in surprise. Sure, you had gushed about his voice for the past three days, but you didn’t expect to be so blunt about it. Especially, when it was to the adult crush’s face!

“You think so?” 

“Yes,” you batted your lashes at him, hold tightening around his arm as you continued down the steps, “You have a very velvety, soft voice, even when you’re humming. Like a lullaby, something I'd sing to my baby before bed.”

You felt Lucifer puff his chest slightly, his posture straightening beside you and you could only smile in delight. It was obvious Lucifer liked your compliments, and you had no problem reminding him of how gorgeous he was.

You imagined that the fallen angel was carved from the smoothest marble with the most precise hands, a perfect sculpture of a man that humans could only envy. 

“I used to do the same for Charlie,” Lucifer replied after a few moments, a content smile on his lips as if he was replaying the memories with fondness, “I like to think she got her musical talent from all the nights I sang her to sleep.”

“That’s so funny, Charlie seems like she was a wild baby,” you laughed softly as the two of you continued walking down the steps, halfway there now. Envy itched at the back of your scalp as you imagined what it would be like to have someone else doting over you and your baby like that.

“She was,” Lucifer gushed, just as your feet hit the hallway flooring of the hallway. The happiness Lucifer displayed talking about his daughter only made your heart swell. 

If your ex had stayed around, would he have shown the same care Lucifer had in the short amount of time since you had met him? Probably not. At least you had done the right thing and dropped him the moment he chose his dick over a family, there were no regrets anymore about your past actions regarding that asshole of a demon.

“Thank you, Your Majesty, for helping me with that difficult task,” You slowly began to slip your arm out of Lucifer’s hold, and he hesitated slightly, but released his hold after a moment, “Now I believe it's your turn to tell me what you’re doing here so soon.”

“I felt I’d come in person to tell Charlie about the meeting with Heaven. I got in contact with them and arranged a date for her. I just wanted to run through some rules she should keep in mind when she’s up there,” Lucifer replied. 

You titled your head, smiling softly at his worried expression. His daughter is going someplace potentially dangerous where he couldn’t protect her, and that obviously made him uneasy. You’d feel the same if it was your child, the thought causing your hand to lift and brush a gentle thumb underneath your bump.

“Also, to apologize again,” Lucifer deflated slightly, rotating the apple-tipped cane between his fingers, “I overstepped my boundaries the last time we interacted, it was rude of me and I won't let it happen again.”

“Are you talking about that magic stuff you did to me?” You asked, tilting your head with a quirked brow.

“Yes… I didn’t realize I was doing it until you reacted. It’s just kind of an instinct for me, blessing babies. I mean–well, I can’t bless anymore, but it's still the same kind of magic. I understand if it made you uncomfortable and everything…”

“I liked it.”

“You did?” Lucifer asked in disbelief, his cane freezing in his grip as he stared at you.

“Yes! I was just taken aback is all, I’m sorry. Whatever you did, it felt very invigorating, like I could climb a mountain!” you nodded your head vigorously, eyes sparkling as you sent Lucifer a playful smile.

“Oh… well, I’m glad I could be of use to you,” he averted his gaze with a bashful grin, adjusting his long collar with flustered fingers.

“Would you do it again?” You asked with a raised brow, puckering your lips slightly as you batted your lashes towards Lucifer. Whatever he did felt like some kind of drug you craved, boosting your mood and energy like nothing ever has. 

“Uh huh…” Lucifer’s gaze drifted to your lips momentarily, before you unpuckered them and they curved into a pleased grin.

“Great! Here, you can even touch my bump again, if that makes things easier,” you beamed, lacing your fingers with Lucifer’sm who tensed at your bold touch. Gently, you pulled his arm towards the underside of your bump, lifting the fabric slightly so his finger could softly graze against soft skin.

Lucifer was deathly still, his hand obediently limp in your hold as you adjusted closer to the baby’s position. They had been very active this morning, playing patty cake with your bladder and parkouring against the walls of your womb. Even now, you could feel a slight nudging against the side of your stomach, and you pressed Lucifer’s hand gently into your skin. 

“...There! Can you feel it?”

Right on cue, your baby roughly nudged you, your skin shifting slightly against their jab, and Lucifer’s hand tensed at the feeling. That soft smile of his widened, that glimmer of adoration returning to his gaze as his index finger extended, a soft golden glow emanating from the skin Lucifer’s hand was softly pressed against.

Just like last time, a soothing burst of energy flowed through your limbs. The ache in your feet ebbed, that weight in your back lessening, along with the similar sensation of experiencing a sugar rush. The urge to do a few laps around the hotel, if that was even possible at this point.

And then, something strange happened. Something… different from the last time. You felt pulsing against your skin where Lucifer's fingers lay. 

Ba-dump, Ba-dump. Fast and rhythmic, beating with life. As your skin seemed to glow with the angelic light, the noise only got louder as it echoed around the room. Your fingers still wrapped delicately around Lucifer’s hand tightened slightly, as the pulsing grew stronger.

“Can you hear that?” Lucifer whispered softly, his thumb brushing softly against your skin as he met your gaze.

“Is that…?”

“Their heartbeat,” he replied with a smile, “It sounds very strong, too. A perfect, healthy baby.” 

Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened for a few more moments, the sounds of your child’s beating heart like music to your ears. 

After a few more moments, Lucifer slowly slid his hand out of your grip and away from your stomach. With his touch went the warmth and that magical, golden glow. The room fell silent again, that musical rhythm fading with the light. 

You wiped your eyes with a free hand, holding in a sniffle as you smoothed the fabric of your outfit back into place with the other.

“Better?” 

“Very much,” you nodded, your posture straightening that made relief bloom down your aching spine, “Enough to go for a walk outside, even!” 

“Alone?” 

“Well, who else?” You quirked a brow, turning towards the long hallway on the other end of the room, one hand resting on your bump as you walked, “Angel is working, Sir. Pentious sleeps until noon, and Charlie and Vaggie always spend their mornings together. Unless you are suggesting that I ask Alastor, who actually might be around here somewher—“

“—It's almost like, ” Lucifer slid up right beside you, arm softly brushing against yours as he sent you a charming grin, keeping pace with your slight amble, “There is a demon very close by that is perfectly capable of lending assistance. One that has done a fantastic job so far providing both protection and entertainment, don’t you agree?

“Doesn’t this demon have plans with his daughter this fine morning?”

“Apparently his daughter has plans with someone else, and I’d hate to interrupt the two lovebirds doing whatever it is that young kids do these days.”

“And you’d rather spend your free time with me?” You questioned with a soft, disbelieving laugh. Why would someone that could go anywhere he pleased and do anything he wanted, spend time with a random demon from the streets like you? 

“If the lady allows me,” Lucifer hummed with a grin.

What was so bad about letting him join you? It was only a quick walk, and you didn’t mind his company one bit. He was the king of Hell anyway, he could join you even without your consent. He was giving you a choice in the matter, and that just proved his character was more than that egotistical, powerful grin he displayed to his people on the covers of magazines. 

“His Majesty may join my stroll if he wishes,” you grinned, sending him a playful glance as the hallway opened up slightly as you neared the front of the building.

Lucifer seemed to have a little more pep in his step the rest of the way to the lobby, which was unusually empty as the two of you passed through the large room towards the front entrance. The fallen angel slid right past you to reach the doors first, before he opened one wide for you with a courteous tip of his hat as you passed by. 

“What a gentleman,” you teased with a giggle, patting him softly on the shoulder as you passed by, before stepping into the morning light. Basked in light red hues, you stepped onto the grass.

“There’s a dirt path that goes around the building, just a lap is all I needed to burn some energy.” You turned to him with a smile.

Before you even got to take a step in that direction, your stomach rumbled loudly, and Lucifer’s head snapped in your direction, before he quirked a brow at your averted gaze.

“Have you eaten anything today?” 

“No, it's still early. I get sick if I eat right away in the morning, ” you explained. Another addition to the list of pregnancy symptoms that liked to torment you. 

“Something light, at least,” Lucifer suggested, his eyes landing on a rickety old picnic table before turning to you with a pleading look. 

You don’t argue with the fallen angel, instead brushing past him to take a seat on one of the benches. With all the extra weight in your middle, sitting was also becoming a nuance, and the muscles in your legs were probably twice the size now with all the exercising you were doing lately.

“What’s on the menu today?” Lucifer asked from the other side of the table, rubbing his hands with a playful smile as he removed his hat and coat to lay gently beside him. 

After a few moments of thought, you indulged him on your latest food fix. 

“The lady is as cultured as ever,” the king responded with a grin, before snapping his fingers and lifting his hand palm-up to catch a plate of your desire and lowering it gently onto the table, before catching a tall glass of water in the other.

Digging into your gourmet breakfast, Lucifer watched you with a small smile, pleased that you were eating something at least. His thoughts pulled him away for a few moments as you hungrily devoured the food on the table. 

You both sat there in comfortable silence, drinking in the morning peace.

“What are your plans after you have the baby?” Lucifer finally spoke, his chin resting against his knuckles as he stared at you softly. The gentle breeze tousled his silky blonde strands, as you took a sip from your glass. 

“Probably find somewhere deeper in the city, where the jobs are. I’m sure there’s somewhere hiring that will take my skills. Maybe I’ll actually become a baker this time.”

“You don’t plan on staying?”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” you shook your head, pausing to take another large sip of your water, “Charlie’s already been accommodating enough, I can’t ask for more”

“Did he think you were a bother?” Lucifer suddenly blurted.

He? 

“Who?” 

“You’re… previous partner,” he slowly replied, stepping carefully to the subject of your ex-boyfriend. Someone who you had desperately tried to forget these past few months, to no avail. 

You blinked, tilting your head. Had Lucifer heard your conversation with Mimzy from when you first met? Had he been letting whatever thoughts stew until it drove him mad enough to ask you about it now? 

“I think he was more bothered by the fact he was going to be a father, than just me,” you laughed dryly, tracing the thin lines in the wood absently as you further exposed the shortcomings in your life.

Lucifer clenched his fist, pupils narrowing in irritation at your words. A soft growl resonated from his throat, and you lifted your head in concern at his emotional display.

“I’m sorry,” he shrunk slightly under your questioning star, averting his gaze to control his outburst. “It’s just hard to believe that anyone would treat someone like you with such disregard.” 

Your mouth parted slightly, but no words left your lips as you processed his statement, heart fluttering at his reaction. Guilt and regret crossed his features for bringing up the topic, as if you were a ticking time bomb ready to explode at the mention of your old lover.

Was Lucifer angry for you?

You found yourself overwhelmed by Lucifer's unexpected display of protectiveness and concern. His reaction stirred a mixture of emotions within you, ranging from surprise to gratitude. It was as though a veil had been lifted, revealing a side of him you only glimpsed before—a side that cared deeply about your well-being. 

“Lucifer I—“

“Let’s not dwell on the past,” the fallen angel interrupted you, rising from the bench suddenly as the empty dishes around you vanished with a burst of red smoke. 

He slipped on his overcoat and hat, before moving around the table to stand by your side. You looked up at him with a questioning stare once more.

“Shall we continue?” Lucifer asked softly, before lifting an elbow offering it to you.

You frowned at his change in the conversation, before lowering your gaze to his arm and slowly reaching up to grasp it with a small smile. Fine, you’d drop his sudden interest in your past and future.

Using his angelic strength, Lucifer helped you rise from your seat, a show of support you accepted gratefully. You locked elbows with him again, before turning towards the dirt pathway that wrapped around the hotel. 

For now, you’d let him dote on you without fuss. One day, though, you’d figure out what made the fallen angel so interested in you.

After that, Lucifer came to visit the hotel more often, which also meant paying a visit on your end too. It always started with a soft knock on your door, before he greeted you with that charming grin that instantly sent butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

Then, he’d pull out an item from the inside of his coat, lifting it towards you like an offering. Usually, it was food that the fallen angel had noticed you taking a liking to. He’d lift a diverse array of mouth-watering goodies to your face, his lips curving into a knowing smirk as you hungrily accepted them.

Your cravings seemed to change by the week, so the poor guy began keeping a list of them all on the door of his fridge as a daily reminder of what could win your heart. Cravings weren’t the only things he kept an eye on, every interest you spoke of during those long conversations were memorized. 

As time went on, the gifts he offered you grew bigger, and so did your reactions to seeing them.

One day, Lucifer had walked you back to the staircase in an odd silence. He had never been so quiet before, and his demeanor was more anxious than usual. You didn’t have time to ponder that thought for long when the king cleared his throat to grab your attention.

“So…. I was a little bored last night,” Lucifer started, adjusting his long collar nervously as you regarded him with a quirked brow, “and, well, seeing as you didn’t have much for the baby, I thought I could give you a hand, soooo I made you this!”

His arm quickly lifted towards you, and you leaned forward to get a look at the small object in his hand.

Nestled in Lucifer’s palm, was a small, yellow rubber ducky. Your eyes widened, breath hitched, as your gaze flicked from the toy to Lucifer, then back to the ducky adorned with a small, white hat. He watched your reaction intensely, and at your silence, he cracked an awkward grin.

“For the little one, in case you didn’t have anything for them. It’s even got a little baker's hat, since I know that’s kind of your thing.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, and you took the duck gingerly from his hand, turning it over as you traced the outline of the beak, the cute little hat, and finally its adorable tail feathers curled at the back. It stirred something in you, your stomach swimming with emotions that were threatening to bubble up and consume you while staring at the toy. 

He made this… for your baby? As a gift to you? 

That was so sweet of him, and not even Charlie had given you something so thoughtful. Sure, she paid for a majority of your baby necessities—which you owed her your life for, no matter how much the girl disagreed—but she never presented you with something made from the heart like this.

Lucifer did, though. Even if he made a million matching yellow duckies beforehand, he still made this one specifically for you. Had your ex ever cared enough to do something like this for you? You couldn’t recall. And yet, a man who was practically a stranger before you was the one to care enough.

Fuck, you were about to cry. You tried to steel yourself, holding back tears. 

You met Lucifer’s gaze after a few moments, as you softly stroked the little toy with your thumb. The fallen angel only grimaced at your reaction, his smile faltering slightly as he watched your eyes well with tears and your lip start to quiver.

“Do you hate it?” He asked slowly, and you realized you were beginning to sniffle softly, hiccups building in your chest as you blinked in confusion. 

“Hate—hic—It? Why would you think…?” You started, before you felt tears welling up underneath your chin, and dripping softly onto the ducky close to your chest. 

You mentally slapped yourself, of course Lucifer would think you disliked it because of how emotional you were being. Shame ate at you after that. Here the king of Hell was, thinking about you and your baby and making something in his own free time, only for you to reward him with tears.

Curse these hormones!

Now, the quiet sniffles that escaped you were from both sadness and delight, as you clutched the rubber ducky closer to your chest. The tears spilled faster from your cheeks, wetting the ground beneath you. A few droplets landed on your exposed arm, and its cool touch was a welcome sensation from the heat boiling underneath your skin. 

“I-I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” you finally breathed, rubbing a hand across your face to get rid of the tears, before you inhaled a sharp breath to calm yourself, “I’m sorry for being such a… such a—”

You clamped your mouth shut, trying to rope in the last bit of control you had over your emotions that were threatening to come undone. You sucked in a large, sputtering breath and Lucifer leaned back, just as your lips quivered violently.

“—a wreck!” you wailed after that, placing your free hand to your mouth to try and hold in your sobs.

Lucifer jumped slightly, closing in the distance between the two of you as he rushed to your side. He bit his lip, what could he possibly do to make you feel better? If he would have known this was how you were going to react

“Wait, no! You’re not a wreck, you’re completely fine. Perfect, even! Oh, please don’t cry…” 

The man was starting to pace as you held a hand to your mouth, slowly but surely clamping down on your outburst of emotion.

“Here, have another one!” A second rubber ducky appeared with a red burst of smoke, landing softly into his palm as he lifted it towards your face, “Don’t worry I have a lot more at home!”

The duckie's cute little apron, displaying a cookie and two tiny wooden spoons in the shape of an X, only made your lip quiver more violently. Lucifer slowly pulled the third ducky away from your view behind his back, staring with concern as you tried to catch your breath.

“It’s so cute!” you gasped through the tears, before rubbing your eyes once more.

“You think so?” He replied in disbelief.

You nodded your head vigorously, smiling through the tears as you clutched both ducks to your chest. Lucifer slowly caught on, before breathing a large sigh of relief like he just avoided doomsday.

“Are… you two okay?” Came a familiar voice from the edge of the room. You turned your head to see Charlie standing with a confused expression as she watched Lucifer fuss over your disheveled figure.

“Charlie!” Lucifer perked, shooting her an awkward grin as he stood beside you, “I didn’t expect to see you here! I just thought I'd swing by and give our friend here a little something for their child.”

You held out your hands to the princess, who leaned in to get a better look at the yellow toys. The familiar body shape, orange beak, and beady little eyes had her immediately recognizing the objects and the reason behind your emotional outburst. 

“Awe, that’s so sweet, Dad!” Charlie clutched her chest, swooning at the sight of the small rubber ducks in your hands, “To make something for her baby like that, so thoughtful of you!”

She walked closer towards you and Lucifer, passing right by a few feet away to a hallway on the other end of the room. 

“Well, I won’t interrupt the two of you any longer, comfortable in each other's company already” Charlie waggled her eyebrows at you, throwing her dad an encouraging thumbs up before walking around a corner and out of sight. 

That had been a very embarrassing moment for you, but after the initial upsetting reaction, Lucifer didn’t seem to mind the changes pregnancy had forcefully placed upon you. Emotionally or physically, he seemed to adore traits that you had acquired during these past few months.

The fallen angel had been helping you in the kitchen one afternoon, as you made apple empanadas at his subtle request. 

Since you had first introduced Lucifer to your cooking, he couldn’t get enough of it. Anytime you mentioned using the kitchen, his head would snap towards you, licking his lips with hunger. The fallen angel had never asked outright for you to make anything for him, but dropping hints like ‘I thought I'd drop off some more apples for your pantry, since I know you like to use them in your baking and all.’ 

You’d simply shake your head and pull out Alastor’s recipe book, flipping through the pages for anything that used the red fruit. Thankfully, there was more than just tarts and pie that you could try your hand at. 

Thankfully, Lucifer ate up your dishes with the ferocity of a starving child every time. 

“If you can just materialize any food you want, why not just make these yourself?” You had asked him once, as you took small balls of dough into round, flattened pieces against the kitchen countertop. 

“Your food is just much better,” he had shrugged next to you, folding the dough-wrapped apple stuffing into dumpling-like shapes, before setting them neatly on a cookie sheet to be baked. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his forearms, his red-and-white-striped waistcoat covered by a tall red apron. 

Heat crept across your cheeks at Lucifer’s words and you averted your gaze to hide your flustered expression. With his help, you’d never fuss about making him sweet treats. Especially if you got to indulge in them as well. 

Picking up a light stack of dishes you walked around the counter towards the sink. Your walk wasn’t really a walk anymore, your gait altered to adjust for the weight of what was basically a watermelon strapped to your stomach. 

You were also much slower, and you hated it. 

Right as you reached the sink, a soft chuckle reverberated behind you. Lucifer’s gaze had followed your figure, his eyes glinting with amusement as you moved.

“What are you laughing at?” You shot him a playful, suspicious glance as you placed the dishes gently into the sink. 

“Your walk, it reminds me of a waddle,” Lucifer teased with a soft smile, "Like a duck, adorable without even trying.” 

That only sent you into another flustered mess, cheeks heating in embarrassment that it was quite obvious you were struggling with the growing baby weight so far into your pregnancy. 

Even with the multitude of compliments given to you by the king, your self-esteem had greatly deflated as the months passed. 

“I look rather unsightly now,” you had sighed, adjusting your outfit in the tall mirror near your room’s dresser. 

Lucifer was leaning against the frame of your doorway, arms crossed as he watched you analyze yourself meticulously.

“What? Who told you that?” Lucifer questioned with a soft growl, brows furrowing.

“Nobody,” you replied with a frown, crossing your arms, “Nobody needs to tell me I look terrible. It’s clear as day, just look at me!”

“I am,” he smiled softly, shooting you casual bedroom eyes, “And I am very tempted to show you just how wrong you are, but my daughter demands my presence, and who am I to deny my little girl’s call?”

“Looks like I’ll just have to see you later,” you replied as he strolled up to you with a cheeky smile. 

“Of course,” he had purred, his fingers lacing with yours before he lifted your hand to his face. Lowering his head, Lucifer brushed his lips softly against your knuckles, heat radiating from his touch. Your heart fluttered, breath hitching as you resisted the urge to melt right then and there. 

Lucifer had tipped his hat to you, releasing your fingers slowly before turning away and walking out the door. You had smiled like a dumb teenager then, your mood instantly brightening at his flirtatious demeanor. 

However long this… bond between you and Lucifer lasted, you prayed it was full of nothing but soft memories. Only time would tell whether the king would get bored of you and simply turn the other cheek at your presence, no indication that the two of you had ever held a conversation. 

‘Stop being so paranoid,’ you growled to yourself, shaking your head, ‘He’s only ever been kind to you. Caring, thoughtful, funny. What more do you want?’

With the last month of your pregnancy just around the corner, you were determined to make this last, mostly peaceful period a pleasant one with the people you cared about. 

Hopefully, things will stay peaceful until then.

But, as Extermination Day closed in, so did your due date. You were giddy for the arrival of the latter, ready for the freedoms that came with having total control of your body once more.

‘I can’t wait until you’re outta me, kiddo,” you patted your round stomach affectionately, before waddling out of your room. Which was about five doors down from the lobby now, closer to the rest of the residents. It was noisier now, but at least you didn’t have to walk a mile to get decent food. 

It was Charlie who had initially convinced you to move, citing the fact that if you were to go into labor during the night or somewhere too far from the others, it may pose a risk to your baby in the case of an emergency. 

She was right, and Lucifer had no qualms with the change, as expected.

The only downside to being close to your due date was the many false alarms signaling you of labor. False alarms that only heightened everyone’s unease that you were a water balloon waiting to burst at any moment's notice.

Lucifer’s anxiety especially spiked whenever you’d suddenly wince, hissing in pain as you put a shaky hand on your stomach. He’d come rushing to your side, and you responded to his concern with an assuring smile and a pat on your stomach. 

“I’m fine, just Braxton-Hicks contractions, nothing serious… I think.” 

The king would sigh in relief at your words, relaxing slightly before offering you water or something to snack on. 

In the final month of your pregnancy, you were under strict orders by the royal family to refrain from lifting a finger until the baby came. You found that when the two Morningstar’s weren’t busy, they were finding ways to entertain you and soothe the natural pains that came with being on the very last leg of your pregnancy. 

Seeing as Extermination Day was just around the corner, the two weren’t around much as the days went on. Charlie was disappearing more often to try and gather support against Adam’s forces, and Lucifer was slowly regressing into another one of his depressive episodes.

Lucifer’s woes weren’t magically solved simply because he was finding purpose in caring for you and the hotel, mental health was unfortunately not that smoothly paved of a road to traverse. The king still had days where he retreated into the darkness of his mansion, barely a word to you or Charlie during that time. Only to reappear with tired, sunken eyes and a handful of freshly crafted rubber ducks for your growing collection.

You always gave him the space he needed, it just was terrible timing seeing his daughter was preparing to fight an army of murderous angels. 

Until one day Lucifer appeared in front of the door of your room, knocking so softly you almost missed it if you weren’t right next to the wooden frame. Extermination Day was only a week away. 

“You should get somewhere safe,” He had started right as you appeared in the doorway, “This hotel is full of targets for Heaven, you shouldn't be in such a stressful environment with the risk of an attack.”

“I thought they can’t go after my kind?” You had questioned, head tilting in confusion.

“The contract explicitly states they can’t, but that doesn’t mean one idiot can’t point the spear at the wrong demon in the chaos. I just don’t want to risk anything.” Lucifer pleaded silently for your agreement, his eyes soft with concern.

“If that’s what you think is best,” you had replied softly, heart fluttering at the level of worry and care the fallen angel displayed towards you and your child.

There was a small villa nestled on the outskirts of the city Lucifer owned, quiet and peaceful with its own butler that you’d rely on while you stayed there during the extermination. Lucifer had nudged at the idea of you staying there for more than just a couple of days, insisting how much better equipped it was to house a baby and away from any danger.

You had considered it, but your answer wasn’t finalized by the time Extermination Day rolled around, and you awoke with packed bags and a twisting stomach. You had been feeling… off all morning. Your bump felt heavier as you completed your early routine, your baby a little more active than usual. Sleep was a rarity the past few days, and you tried to rid your mind of drowsiness as you stood in front of Charlie with 

“Okay, so there is a limo coming to pick you and your things up soon. I made sure to have them pull up at the top of the hill for you,” The princess spoke as Vaggie tightened her outfit from the back, adjusting it slightly against her skin.

It was a red suit that stuck to her figure perfectly, providing ample flexibility and movement during battle. You had never imagined Charlie in this kind of scenario, someone who strongly opposed violence walking straight into it? A surprising sight, but the princess was set on being on the frontlines with the rest of her people when Adam arrived.

“Thank you,” you replied softly, before wincing at a ripple of pain that hit your from your lower abdomen. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry. I've just been feeling a little under the weather lately. Nothing to be worried about.” You smiled reassuringly to the princess. She had much bigger things to fuss about then you.

“Okay, just let me know if something changes,” She nodded, adjusting her red suit as she spoke, “I haven’t been able to get ahold of my dad this morning… I hope he didn’t forget today was when the big army was coming down to try and kill us all.”

You had chuckled nervously along with Charlie at her own words. As much as it seemed like a simple tease, you had a sneaking feeling Lucifer would actually lose track of time and show up to the battle halfway through.

Charlie had turned away from you with a quick farewell, continuing preparations for the coming battle as you stood at the entrance to the hotel, waiting for the private car to arrive.

Then, you were hit with a cramp that had an intensity you hadn't experienced yet. It was followed by a sharp pinch deep inside your abdomen, before liquid began to pool at your feet. You froze, heart pounding as you stood deathly silent.

Was that your water breaking? Were you going into labor now?!

“Charlie!” Your voice cracked painfully as you called for the woman, who was adjusting a heart-shaped shield against her arm. The princess turned around to meet your gaze with confusion, before it morphed into concern as she scanned your figure, looking for what had you looking so shell-shocked.

“Oh!” Charlie gasped, her expression a mixture of panic and delight as the dots connected, “Oh my! It's happening! Hold on, hold on, I’m going to grab my phone!”

Another contraction hit you as Charlie dashed off, causing you to double over in pain and Vaggie to rush to your side with concern etched on her features. The next few minutes turned into a blur as the limo pulled up, and you were slowly moved to its waiting frame. 

This was it, it was time to have this baby. A relieving thought as you reached the vehicle’s side, your heart beating rapidly and mind racing with a million thoughts at once.

Your mind was still racing by the time you arrived inside the hospital and assigned a room.

“You got this, boss!” An Egg Boi cheered atop a stool right beside your hospital bed, your hand clenched dangerously tight around his stick arm as you inhaled a sharp breath of pain. 

“Thank you, Frank,” You grimaced, adjusting your posture atop the mattress as you tried to find any amount of relief during this naturally uncomfortable chapter of becoming a mother. The contractions were getting closer together, and were increasing in l; length and intensity since you first started keeping track.

Immediately after telling Charlie the badly-timed news, she had you rushed off to a nearby maternity ward. At arrival, you were forced to change into a thin and revealing hospital gown, before being strapped to machines that read your baby’s vitals and recorded your contractions. 

Apparently, the small hospital you were in was the best medical facility in all of Hell, paid for and used by the Morningstar family and the rest of the realm’s royalty.

The employees signed strict NDAs on what transpires during their shift, to prevent them from spilling to the press if a tragedy were to strike among the highest nobility. 

You had been here for the past few hours, the warning sirens outside had gone off a while ago, signaling Heaven’s attack on Pentagram City. The shades were drawn in your little room, preventing the witness of any gruesome sights right outside your window.

You couldn’t stomach watching the live footage of the extermination on your teeny hospital TV, not right now. Instead, you had some childish cartoon playing for Frank, who Sir. Pentious had insisted on going with you since everyone else was needed in the fight.

The drawback of not knowing the status of the hotel only made your anxiety worsen, though. 

Was everyone okay? Was Lucifer with them? Did he know you were here? Maybe, they won already… or lost. A hundred unwanted thoughts sped through your mind concerning your friends, but when another contraction hit you and you grimaced against the feeling of your insides being squeezed silly, the matters concerning anything outside of this room were not on your mind any longer.

That’s right, focus on the baby. They were your priority right now, their well-being depended on how you handled the next few hours. Soon, you’d finally get to welcome your child to the realm and in your arms. Every change and ache you’ve experienced for the past few months won’t have been for nothing, and you’d be cool with not experiencing this again for a long while afterward. 

Right as your head settled exhaustively against the cool, sterile pillow and Frank soothingly patted your hand, the door to your room opened and a small bunny-faced woman quietly slipped into the room.

“Hello! I’m Nurse Smith, just coming in to check up on you. How are you feeling?” The sandy-colored demon asked with a pleasant smile, her black heels clicking softly against the tile floor as she moved to your bedside.

“I feel like we’re getting closer,” you croaked softly, lips cracked with thirst. Unfortunately, if you wanted a much less painful delivery, water was a no-no until your epidural. Your contractions had been manageable, but as the hour began to change, they were coming in more intense and closer waves.

“Let’s check, shall we?” Her long ears perked, as she moved towards the monitors displaying your child’s heart rate and other information, including how dilated your cervix was. 

“Oh, it looks like you’re dilated about 9 centimeters. I think we’re ready to meet the little one! I’ll call the other nurses, and the anesthesiologist for the epidural.”

“Thank god,” You breathed with relief, the numbing liquid would be your saving grace in these trying times. 

The nurse left the room to fetch the rest of the delivery team, your heart began to beat rapidly in your chest as you took deep, shaky breaths to calm your nerves. It wasn’t really working, and while you understood the need for all hands on deck to fight a horde of trained angelic killers, the lack of familiar, comforting faces inside the building.

Frank was a nice little addition, but he could only offer you so much support with eyes glued to the screen of dancing, animated fruit with baby features.

When the anesthesiologist arrived, surrounded by a multitude of demons dressed in white medical attire, he had greeted you softly before lifting a long, thin needle to your view.

Gulping quietly, you rose to face your back towards the doctor, and he began poking uncomfortably down your spine. When it seemed like he had found the perfect spot, you felt a sharp pinch in your back before faint warmth slowly crept from the spot the demon had injected. 

When that was finished, and you reclined back against your mattress, the staff around you were prepping the baby cleaning station and fussing around at the end of the bed near your legs.

Then, a tall woman with lion-like features strolled into the room, her commanding presence told you she was the head honcho of the small crew of white-clad women who were busy around you.

“Hello, I’m the OB that’s going to help deliver your baby today,” she walked up to the side of your bed, pulling light blue latex gloves onto her paws as her eyes landed on the egg-shaped demon beside you with an odd expression, “Is he the…?”

“No!” You gasped, releasing Frank's arm and scooching over an inch from the short demon, before raising a brow to the doctor with a gaze that silently questioned ‘Seriously? You think I’d bang an egg?’

She only shrugged, before turning away from you to speak quietly to a few nurses washing their hands. With a sigh, you twisted your head to face your innocent companion, tapping his shell softly to get his attention. Another contraction hit you, but the high-quality numbing agent had you barely reacting.

“Frank, sweetie, can you please wait outside until I get done with my… business here?”

“Sure thing!” The egg replied happily, his eyes moving from the cartoons to you with a thumbs up, before the demon tipped his little black hat in a bid of farewell and hopped off the stool beside your bed.

As the nurses scurried around your legs, before lifting them with care and slipping your ankles snugly inside. You felt bare and exposed—which you were—and while the room was much more comfortable and dimly lit than other hospitals you had been to, constant beeping equipment paired with the faint smell of the beach only heightened your anxiety at the fact you were about to give birth.

“Deep breaths for me, dear,” the OB spoke softly, before slipping a surgical mask onto her face, and retreating to in between your legs, two nurses at the ready beside her. Her figure became obscured as she bent down below the sheet that was covering the sight before your lifted knees.

Following her instructions obediently, you regained control of your breathing. Deep inhale, long exhale. Another, and another, then another, until you could feel your heart beginning to slow its racing pace. 

“Alright, it’s time. On my count, I want you to start pushing when you feel your contractions, okay?” The OB piped up from underneath the sheet, and your fingers gripped the rails on the side of your bed with deadly force as you mentally prepared yourself.

“1…” 

Deep breaths, you’ve got this.

“2…”

Please let this be a smooth delivery. 

“3…”

I wish Lucifer were here.

“Alright, mama, push!”

Straining against the stirrups slightly, you inhaled a deep breath and poured all your strength into your lower abdomen with a grunt as you followed the doctor’s command. After a few moments of heavy exertion, you felt the contraction begin to ebb. Your head hit the pillow with a gasp for breath, sweat beginning to down your forehead.

A contraction slowly builds in your abdomen, cueing you into gathering your strength once. As you readied for another round of pushing, you turned towards a nurse who was standing supportively on the left side of the bed.

“I’m never having sex with a man again,” you groaned, lifting your head from the pillow with effort.. 

“Oh, sweetie,” the much older woman laughed, patting your hand soothingly, “That’s what they all say.”

Lucifer stood proudly in front of the newly rebuilt hotel, the strobe of lights flashing rhythmically, lighting up the building’s tall figure with a tempting glow to wide-eyed onlookers. The small, misfit army of Hell had defeated Adam and sent killer angels back to Heaven. 

There were casualties on both sides, but thankfully only one demon that resided inside the hotel was taken from the realm. Sir. Pentious, an inventor, leader, and friend. Lucifer may have not known the snake demon for very long, but the respect he held for the brave captain was immense. 

“What a beauty! And it only took us one musical number to get it all done, that has got to be a record!” The fallen angel nodded his head approvingly, crossing his arms as he twisted his head to observe the small crowd of demons. 

The princess stood a few feet away, handing Cherry Bomb a small medical kit as she leaned against a bench. The cyclops woman sent Charlie a small appreciative smile as she took the metal case from her hands. 

Turning, she strolled up to her father with tired eyes, exhaustion evident on her features, both mentally and physically from everything she had just experienced in the short span of a few hours.

“We did good, if I do say so myself,” Lucifer grinned pridefully to his daughter, blonde hair swaying softly in the breeze as he met her halfway.

“Yeah. That's for doing most of the work, Dad. We wouldn't have gotten it done so fast without your magic.” Charlie nodded, smiling softly.

“Pfft, it was no biggie. Anything for my little girl,” Lucifer brushed off her compliment with a wave of his hand, before pulling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt.

Charlie and Lucifer stood next to each other in comfortable silence, as the princess absently rubbed the bruise on her throat. Adam’s grip had been suffocating, the intention of harm evident on his expressive mask before it was split in two by Lucifer’s powerful retaliation. 

“I think she’ll really like this place, If she hasn't already seen it on TV at the villa.” Her father finally spoke after a few moments.

She. Charlie didn’t need her dad to say your name to know who he was talking about. You were one of the few women that was on Lucifer’s mind these days, and it was obvious the two of you had grown closer these past few months. She was sure if you were at the hotel during the battle the king would have been a raging mess to keep both you and his daughter safe. Fortunately, you were far from anyone who would want to lay a hand on you.

“I think she’s a little busy right now, since she’s..”

It suddenly occurred, the cloud of exhaustion parting just enough for the recollection of where exactly you had gone to smack Charlie square in the face. The princess had been so busy getting thrown around in battle, mourning her friend, and helping rebuild the hotel she almost forgot why you had left so suddenly.

“She’s having her baby!” Charlie suddenly gasped, eyes widening before she threw her hands up to hold her head in realization. 

“She’s what?” Lucifer whispered, his face paling to an even whiter shade as he froze in place.

“She went into labor this morning, so I had her taken to that hospital you liked,” Charlie explained breathlessly, a few demons around them eavesdropping on their conversation as Vaggie walked over with a mirrored expression of realization.

“Alone?” The fallen angel replied, mouth slightly agape as panic began to set into his features.

“One of Pentious’ eggs is with her,” Cherry Bomb answered softly from her spot on the bench with a melancholy gaze, as she re-wrapped a nasty wound with gauze.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He demanded.

“I was kind of in the middle of a battle!” Charlie replied defensively, her mind racing now as she worried about you and how you were faring during such a stressful time. What about the baby? 

Lucifer didn’t respond, turning away from the gathering group of demons as he snapped his fingers. In an instant, his long overcoat materialized atop his shoulders, and his hat floated down gracefully to rest upon the king’s head as golden magic circled his figure, before disappearing without a word. 

“Why couldn't he have done that for the rest of us?” Angel Dust grumbled from beside Cherry, before standing with a sigh and cracking his back. Husk strolled up to stand beside him, mouth opening in a large yawn as he itched his chin with a claw.

“I’ll call a cab,” Vaggie replied, rushing off in search of a phone as Charlie began to bite her nail to try and relieve some of the stress that was beginning to bubble up in her stomach. A million unwanted thoughts of scenarios where something terrible happened to you or the baby eating at her mind.

The apple-cheeked woman’s nail was still at the mercy of her nervous chewing as she rocked self-soothingly in the chair next to Vaggie, who rubbed her shoulder softly in support. 

Five battered demons sat in cushioned armchairs arranged in neat rows across a small waiting room right outside of the maternity ward. 

Alastor had disappeared again sometime after the hotel had been finished, with no word of his whereabouts. Cherry Bomb had been too disheveled to join, tears brimming from her large eye as the rest of the demons squished into one taxi and sped off.

When they arrived, Lucifer was already inside the hospital, foot tapping impatiently in the front lobby as he pointed a commanding finger down towards a white, oval-shaped figure standing agape before him.

“You, talking egg,” The fallen angel began, voice deepening to display his superior authority as Charlie approached from behind, “You were sent here today to keep watch over someone very important. Now lead them to me… please”

Frank had stated wide-eyed for a few more moments, before saluting his king and marching off into a hallway on the right. 

Now, the king of Hell was displaying anything but the traits of an imposing leader. Hunched slightly, head lowered, an obvious nervous wreck as Lucifer paced along a wide pane of glass overlooking a more residential side of the city. 

One pink, fuzzy demon stared intently at the anxious figure with a large smile of amusement.

“Ten bucks she’s handling everything much better actually popping out the kid than this poor fella is over here,” Angel teased as he gestured towards Lucifer, before meeting Husk’s eyes from the chair next to him.

The feline’s gaze moved to follow the king’s continuous back-and-forth trail in front of the window across the room, the apple-tipped cane twisting between his fingers impatiently as he waited for news on your condition. Lucifer raked a hand through his hair, pulling back the tousled strands as he mumbled something incoherent.

It was obvious Lucifer and Charlie were related by much more than just their looks, one being how badly they handled stressful situations. You were being cared for by the best doctors in Hell, what could go wrong?

“Nah, you’re probably right,” Husk finally replied with a chuckle, before his eyelids slowly lowered and he drifted off into a light, cat-like sleep. 

A quiet purr resonated from his chest as he napped, and Angel smiled before lifting the pink phone in his hands and taking a selfie, Husk’s peaceful expression slightly visible from behind the spider’s figure. 

Somehow, Niffty had gotten hold of a handful of markers and was demonstrating her artistry on a living canvas for amusement. Frank sat on the floor near Vaggie’s feet while the tiny cyclops doodled across his shell, he didn’t move an inch.

When the door to the waiting room opened, a nurse clad in white slipped inside, and everyone froze to stare at the approaching demon. She lowered her gaze respectfully in Lucifer's presence, and halted right in front of the first row of chairs. 

“Huska’, wake up!” Angel Dust whispered sternly into the feline’s ear and a poke to the cheek, who popped a disgruntled eye open in response to the interruption. 

Husk turned to shoot Angel a glare before his eyes landed on the demon woman standing in front, his ears perking in interest. 

“The delivery went smoothly,” she smiled shyly, and everyone in the room exhaled a shared sigh of relief, “You’re welcome to visit now, just follow me.”

Everyone rose from their seats, Lucifer adjusting his appearance to look more presentable for you as he walked toward the nurse. Charlie turned to lace her fingers with Vaggie’s before following behind her dad. 

“Maybe I should stay back, I don’t do well with kids…” Husk started, still leaning back in his seat.

“Don’t be a pussy, pussy cat,” Angel teased, not looking backward as he joined the rest of the group by the door.

Husk growled softly, before lifting himself from the chair with a huff and exiting out of the door, his feathered tail swishing with anticipation as he crossed the hall and stood with the others at the last doorway on the end.

‘Shh, The Baby Is Sleeping!’ sign was hanging against its frame, before the nurse knocked on the door softly and turned back to the groups 

“Whenever you’re ready,” the nurse hummed, before backpedaling and pivoting on her heel to check in on another room nearby.

Lucifer stood frozen in place, one hand reaching for the door handle as he hesitated. Eyes stared expectantly at their king, who only backed up from the room and allowed Charlie to take the lead.

“I think it would be best if you go first, I’m sure she’s anxious to see you all safe and sound,” Lucifer said with a nervous grin, taking a step backward and slipping past the figures of your friends. 

Charlie only stared at him with a curious expression, as if she was going to argue with her father, before turning back to the door and slowly turning the handle to reveal the room inside. 

“Hi, everyone” he heard you greet them tiredly from the other side of the room before they responded with a mixture of soft words for the new mother. 

Lucifer couldn’t see past the looming bodies of the demons in front of him, and that gave him time to pull out a thin, delicate object from his coat and turn it between his fingers in thought. His mind racing with what he could possibly say to you in a moment like this.

“How are you doing?” Charlie asked as the small group of friends filed into the room.

“Much better now that you’re here,” you replied with a small, relieved laugh, “Although, I did expect Sir. Pentious to join, too.”

Radio silence, not a peep from anyone. How were they supposed to tell you that your baking buddy had sacrificed himself for all his friends? It was such a happy moment for you, they couldn’t dare ruin 

“Yeah, bummer…” Angel Dust murmured quietly, rubbing his arm awkwardly as everyone else tried to keep their lips from curving downward and find a topic to change to.

Then, the king heard Charlie gasp softly, her head turning to another obscured side of the room. The rest of the group turned their heads to follow their gaze, eyes widening at the sight. 

“Is that…?” She whispered in excitement. 

“Yes, would you like to meet my daughter?”

Lucifer’s heart fluttered at that. Daughter. You had delivered a healthy baby girl, and he was not going to wait around a moment longer to congratulate you. 

Finally, the king inhaled a deep, reassuring breath before he strode forward and stepped into the dimly lit room. The crowd parted, revealing your relaxed form on the bed across from him. Lucifer finally met your siren-like gaze and your lips curved into a delighted smile.

“Lucifer,” you sighed happily, eyes drinking in the fallen angel’s perfect figure. 

“Glad to lose some of that water weight?” He teased with that signature charming grin, taking a few steps closer to your bed.

Across the room, was a transparent bassinet nestled in the darkest area of the large space. Every demon in the room had their attention on the bundle of blankets lying still inside.

Slowly, Charlie scooted closer and closer to the cradle, before she leaned over with a smile. She stared in awe at the tiny figure sleeping soundly, before turning her head to meet your gaze. 

“I trust you, Charlie,” you smiled softly at the wide-eyed woman, “You can take her if you want, just be careful.” 

With a joyous smile, the princess turned back to look down at the little bundle of joy, before reaching down and carefully lifting the baby out of the bassinet.

She looked just like you, all cozy wrapped up in the thick blankets around her small body as Charlie held her tight, slowly lowering into a cushioned chair near the shaded windows of the room. The rest of the attendees in the room—save for Lucifer, who couldn’t take his eyes off you—gazed at your twin with adoration. Even Husk wanted a peak, nose twitching as he got a good look at the child with interest. 

“Look at her nose! It’s so tiny and adorable!” Charlie whispered and Vaggie leaned over the chair to get a closer look. 

You watched the small group huddle around your daughter, their gazes tender as they fawned over the sleeping child. Smiling softly, you turn your head to see Lucifer coming closer, his arm leaning against your bed's railing as he lifts a mesmerizing flower into view.

It was a beautiful red rose. Not the hellish roses that rarely grew around the outskirts of Pentagram City, but the classic Earthly version, which you recognized from one of Angel’s descriptions of life in the living realm. 

“I hope everything wasn’t too difficult,” Lucifer responded to your surprised stare at his gift.

There were no thorns present, designed specifically by pale hands just for you to enjoy without the fear of pain. Reaching an arm forward, you took the flower gently from Lucifer’s hold, your fingers brushing softly against his as you lifted it to your nose and inhaled a deep breath. 

The scent of the rose made your lips curve into a soft grin, as you met Lucifer's gaze again.

“Thank you, it’s so pretty,”

“Not in comparison to you,” he replied without hesitation.

You sent him a doubtful quirk of a brow. Having just delivered a baby, you weren’t exactly runway-ready, but Lucifer didn’t seem to care as he stared at you softly. 

Charlie walked forward, interrupting the tender moment as she offered your daughter for you to hold once more. Lucifer finally got a glimpse of your child as he stilled, eyes lighting with interest as he traced the familiar lines on their little features that mirrored so closely to your own.

He hitched a breath, right as you leaned forward and pulled your daughter into your grasp, pulling her flush against your chest. 

Pivoting slightly to face Lucifer, you beckoned the pale face closer to greet the new addition. Slowly, he sidled closer, leaning forward as his eyes traced over the tiny being all bundled up. 

“Hi there,” he spoke quietly to the child, whose features mimicked yours almost to the T. It was definitely your baby, and that only made Lucifer sigh with fondness as he lifted a tentative figure toward the bundle.

His claw delicately grazed against plump, soft cheeks which earned him an adorable coo from your daughter, and that only made the king’s lip wobble more.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you,” Lucifer whispered, gently caressing the baby’s cheek as you watched with a warm smile. 

Then, the king lifted his head to meet your gaze, tears in his eyes as he stared at you affectionately. You had to stop yourself from rising from the bed and comforting him. 

“Sorry,” he rubbed away the wet trails on his cheeks, “Moments like these get me pretty emotional.”

Slowly, you reached a free hand towards Lucifer’s, lacing your fingers with his comfortingly as you laughed softly, tugging him farther past the railings of your bed. Your daughter was nestled against your chest, her warm cheek pressed against your skin only made your smile curve wider.

“I couldn’t have done it without your help, or anyone else’s here. I’m glad I had that kind of support all these months.”

“Don’t worry, mama” he tenderly lifted your hand, placing his lips to your knuckles for a few moments, drinking in your scent that always had him dizzy for more, “We’ll keep that streak going for a long, long time.”

Tears began to well up in your own eyes, as they traveled over to the smiling faces watching you and your baby with fondness. Had you known this is what your life would have looked like all those months ago, you wouldn’t have been so anxious about the future.

Finally, you weren’t so alone anymore. Not with Lucifer, and the obvious care he held for your daughter already, promising you a comfortable life.

Perhaps, happy days in Hell really did exist.

holy shit guys i basically wrote y’all a novella about a baby-loving king wtffff somebody take my laptop away before i do it again 😏

Let me know what you think <3

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco

[put-me-through-the-wall]

Girl Next Door

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Simon is a simple man who doesn't ask for much. Just a bit of peace to come home to. When suddenly you pop in to interrupt his tranquility. Maybe he doesn't completely hate it...

A/N: This is fluff if you squint. Slow burn?? This will probably just be part one if y'all dig the concept. Let me know what you think.

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Simon loves sitting on his balcony in the evening. He loved it before his new neighbor moved in. He wasn't the type to be overly concerned about the actions of other tenants. If someone was too loud, he'd just turn up the television. Banging from upstairs, he'd play some music. Smoking pot outside, that's fine he smokes cigarettes. And he was never one to meddle in others personal lives. He sought sanctuary in his alone time. 

While unlocking his front door one day he couldn't ignore the soft grunting coming from down the hallway behind him. He turns to see someone coming out of the stairwell with a box so big he can only make out a pair of hands on the sides and little legs coming out the bottom. He watched as you waddled all the way to the door right next to his own. You drop the box with a huff, leaning forward on the cardboard to catch your breath. 

"Hi neighbor," you greet between pants. You're wearing some baggy clothes and a beat up baseball cap, wide eyes staring up at him from under its brim. Just a hint of sweat speckling your temples. "Sorry for the noise, I promise I'm not a normally noisy person." you smile. 

"Hope not," he grunts and enters his own residence. Closing the door firmly without a second look. 

𝜗𝜚

The next day while he's drinking his morning coffee and going through his emails he is disturbed by a politely quiet knock on the door. When he looks through the peephole he sees you again. This time with your hair down, wearing a sundress. Looking a lot more put together. You're holding a tray in your hands. He opens the door but does not release the door chain, leaving only a crack in the door to reveal himself.

"Can I help you," he grumbles in a flat tone.

"Hey neighbor!" You don't let the small allowance of space dampen your spirit or at least you don't show it. "I made some cookies. I'd like to think it's good luck to christen a new place by making something sweet in it. The recipe ended up making way more than I planned for so I figured it would be the neighborly thing to do to offer you some." You give your brightest smile hoping to win him over. 

"I don't like sweets," he states.

"Oh, really? I thought everyone liked sweets..." Your shoulders slump the smallest bit as you pause for a moment in thought. "Well, I've got a baked ziti in the oven. It should be ready in about thirty minutes. I could pop by and drop off some when it's done, if you'd like?"

"Yeah, no thanks." He doesn't allow you to respond when he closes the door in your face. Simon is a distrustful man by nature and he won't let a sweet girl with a tray of goodies change that. They did smell really good though. He can't help himself when he looks through his peephole to watch you leave. You let out a defeated sigh and shuffle back to your apartment next door. 

𝜗𝜚

A few days later he runs into you again. He steps into the elevator, presses the button for the lobby, when he hears a familiar voice calling. 

"Wait, hold the elevator please!" You shout down the hallway. You jog towards the lift, trying to get your purse on your shoulder with one hand while balancing your phone, keys, and a travel mug in the other. Your jacket is only half on and the straps on your shoes are undone. Simon groans under his breath but, out of a second of sympathy, he holds his arm out to block the doors from closing. 

"Thank you," you say breathlessly and duck underneath his outstretched arm. "I'm a running little behind this morning." 

"No problem." His eyes remain forward, watching the doors slide shut as the two of you start descending. You finish putting on your jacket and run your fingers to settle your frazzled hair. 

"Can you hold this for a second?" 

"Uh.." He doesn't get a chance to answer when you're thrusting your warm cup into his hands. He watches as you shove your phone and keys into your purse then bend down to finish buckling the straps on your shoes. Unbothered when your skirt rides up your leg exposing your upper thigh. 

You stand back up, straightening your blouse. "Thanks again" You take the cup back allowing him to shove his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "Hey, I'm sorry if I came off as strong the other day."

"It's fine"

"I'm not the best with first impressions." He doesn't respond so you continue. "I didn't mean to intrude either. I'm sure you're a very busy man. Me too, I'm pretty busy with work and stuff. I write for the paper. Well, I am writing the cooking column right now but I'm hoping to get bumped up soon. Maybe something like crime would be cool. What about you? What do you do for work?"

The elevator's ding signals you've arrived at the lobby. As the doors open Simon turns to his head slowly to look at you and nods towards the open doors. 

"Ladies first" 

He wasn't fooled by your clumsy persona, he could feel an ulterior motive in you. He watched as you sauntered off. You are much more professional now, as you pull out a pair of sunglasses and slide them on. He watched the way your hips swayed in your tight skirt. You looked over your shoulder and smiled sweetly at him. Simon waits until you're pushing open the glass paneled double doors before he heads out of the lift himself. 

As you make it onto the city sidewalk, a man runs right into you, causing your coffee to spill down the front of your shirt. You gasp as the hot liquid splashes onto your freshly ironed blouse and down your chest. The man hardly pauses before redirecting around you looking irritated. You spin back around with a huff and shove back into the lobby, pacing to the elevator. 

"Hold the door, please" you groan, marching back while Simon blocks the doors again, containing his laugh into a tight smirk.

𝜗𝜚

Whenever you caught a glimpse of Simon you were quick to skip over and start a conversation. Which was quite a bit. It seemed he was always running into you. The elevator, the apartment gym, while taking out trash, in the parking garage, as he unlocks his door. Most of the conversation being one sided. He was starting to learn more about your life, all the information against his will, of course. 

You were a recipe columnist, also a great cook. You liked dogs but really wanted a cat. You were a single child. You moved here to get a fresh start after a bad relationship. You don't have many friends, that one is pretty obvious.

Then one night, while Simon is trying to enjoy a smoke outside on his balcony he's disturbed by loud shouting in your apartment. Not in your usual bubbly tone, no you sounded angry. He couldn't understand the words you were saying through the glass of your patio door. Then a deep voice is shouting back at you. After a few minutes of listening to the back and forth, your front door slams and then there is stillness. The moment is interrupted when you storm onto your own balcony, slamming the glass door shut behind you.

You brace yourself on the railing edge. He watches your shoulders heave with a few heavy breaths then start to shutter. Your head falls weakly into your hands and you begin to cry. Cry hard at that, sobbing that shakes your whole body. You cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet but your pathetic whimpers still slip though. 

For a moment Simon actually feels bad for you. In fact he feels angry, angry at whoever could have made you feel that way. Sure, you could be annoying at times. Okay annoying all the time but he has never heard you say a harsh word about anyone before. He can't fathom what you could have possibly done to deserve such harshness. You are a sweet girl. He considers saying something to comfort you in some way but after another minute of watching you cry meekly into your hands he thinks maybe not. It would be better to let you be alone. His own patio door is still open, perhaps and can slip back inside with you noticing...

Then he drops his lighter. 

Your head turns sharply to the direction of the clattering plastic against the floor. You lock your watery eyes with Simon and he feels an unexpected pang in his heart. You swiftly wipe your eyes and brush your ruffled hair in place the best you can. Even in the dim lighting illuminating from the city below he can still see how flushed your cheeks have become. 

You draw in a shaky inhale before speaking. "How long have you been out here?"

"Not long," He sees your eyes flick down to the half smoked cigarette between his fingers, giving away his lie. "You want one?" He asks, unsure how to comfort you. 

"I don't smoke," then a pause. "Can I just have a bit of yours?" Your voice is so feeble it's almost a whisper. As you look at him with big round eyes and pouty lips, he can't deny your request. 

He passes the half burnt cigarette over the small stone wall separating your balconies. You're shaky fingers brush against his, careful not to drop it. You bring it to your lips to pull a slow drag. Your eyes flutter shut before you release the puff of smoke, carefully not to blow it in his direction. Simon watches the cloud drift out of your mouth, disappearing into the chilled night air. You lean on the wall connecting your balcony to Simon's. You stare down at the glowing red ember emitting a thin plume of smoke. 

"You alright?" It's him this time who breaks the silence.

"Yeah," you mumble, not lifting your gaze. 

"You sure?"

"No," you release a tired sigh. 

He waits a beat before speaking. "You told me you weren't gonna be a noisy neighbor."

A smile begins to creep onto your face. "I'm sorry, I broke my promise. How can I make it up to you?" When you look at him now, he sees a shimmer return back to your eyes. 

You pass the cigarette back over to him. It's basically down to the filter when he brings it to his own lips and takes a final drag, blowing the smoke between the two of you. It disperses around your features while you watch him. He stubs it out in an ashtray on his little patio table. The cool night dries his chapped mouth. He licks his lips and tastes an unfamiliar cherry flavoring. He looks down at the butt in his ashtray and observes the faintest red ring of lipgloss on the smushed filter. 

"You know, I could go for some baked ziti."

━━━━⊱♡⊰━━━━

Part II

Masterlist

Join the taglist here to be updated about new stories!

ﾒ𝟶

[athenamikaelson]

A/N- finn is hot- don't try to fight me on this

Klaus Mikaelson X Soulmate!Reader x Elijah Mikaelson Ch. 25

Word Count- 3.2k

Warnings- mentions of STDS, sex, condoms, bananas, THEO, decapitation, Kardashians

“Why are you smiling like that?” I finish applying the lipstick Rebekah sent me as an apology gift for attacking Elena, and glance over to Theo leaning against the doorframe.

“I just had a good dream,” I mumble as I stand up from my desk and grab my jacket.

Theo hums.

“So it has nothing to do with you letting that mutt slobber all over you last night…or his brother coming over right after and spending the night with you… I must say sister, juggling two bitches,” Theo wipes away a fake tear, “I’m so proud of you.”

I whip around and glare at him, “Theodore Monty Y/l/n, watch it!”

Theo smirks at me and raises his hands. 

“All I’m saying is that like 3 weeks ago the only side piece you had on your arm was Elena, and now you’ve got two brothers. Upgrades sister, hell ya!”

Theo throws out his palm for me to high-five. I don’t. Instead, I walk around him and down the hallway to the front door. 

Theo continues to speak.

“Now I know you’ve had zero playtime soooo I think we should chat about this. For example, we should have the talk.”

I freeze. 

“Theo, I will smother you in your sleep if you continue to talk.”

“Y/n, I don’t like children, I don’t want any nieces or nephews running around.”

I glare over my shoulder at him, “They’re vampires, you dimwit. They can’t have kids.”

Theo thinks to himself for a moment before nodding, “Okay. Well, what about STDs? What if there are vampire STDs you could catch? One look at that mutt from last night and I bet he’s got something you can catch other than fleas.”

I feel my face drop as Theo continues to mutter things to himself about vampire sexually transmitted diseases. 

I shake my head, open the front door, and leave the house, hearing Theo call from behind me. 

“Fine run! But don’t think for a second young lady that we won’t be discussing things later! And trust next time I see either one of those fools I will be asking them about Vamp STDs!”

At that exact moment, our 82-year-old neighbor Shelley, exits her house. I’m pretty sure her look of pure shock and horror mirrors mine. 

“Oh hi Mrs. Davenport,” Theo yells happily.

—

“Hey Bonnie, how are you?”

The phone line is silent for a moment as I hear Bonnie closing a door.

“I’m fine…I guess. My mom’s going to finish her transition,” Bonnie’s sad voice makes me frown as I stare at the red light in front of me. 

“I’m sorry, Bonnie,” I think back to last night and try to shake away the image of Esther’s decapitated head from my head, “If I would’ve known your mother…”

“Don’t apoligize, Y/n. It’s not your fault. And ya… it sucks she has to become a vampire but…it beats losing you or Elena. And I swear, Y/n, as soon as Damon told me that if the originals died, you would die with them, I tried stopping the spell. I would have never done it in the first place if I knew you’d die too.”

Bonnie’s earnest voice makes me smile, “I trust you, Bon. And thank you.”

I hear someone say something to Bonnie and she sighs, “I’ve got to go.”

“It’s ok, Bonnie. We’ll talk soon. Give yourself some time with your mother before coming back to this mess over here. You deserve it.”

“Okay, thank you. And when I get back we’ll find a way to get you out of that soul bond mess and away from the Mikaelsons.”

“Uh, ya, ok. Bye, Bonnie.”

I end the call and pull into the Grill’s parking lot. As I step out of my car, cross the street, and enter the grill, one thought won’t leave my head.

“What if I don’t want to break the bond?”

—

“Y/n?”

I stop walking and smile when my eyes meet Finn’s brown ones.

“Hey, Finn,” I slide into the seat in the booth across from him and can’t help but smile at the obvious discomfort he has plastered on his face.

“You look…”

“Uncomfortable…yes I know. A lot of things have changed since I was last part of civilization,” Finn fiddles with the ring on his middle finger and it reminds me of the anxious tic I do quite often. 

“We could’ve met somewhere else. I know that being in big crowds like this unsettles me too,” I smile softly at him. 

Finn eyes a group of passersby wearily but still shakes his head, “No…I’m alright. If I’m going to be a part of this world I’ve got to learn to live with these things.”

I nod, “Okay. So, why exactly did you have Rebekah call me to meet you here?” Finn turns his attention away from a drunk woman who seems to be having the time of her life, “You said you’d help me find my Rose.”

Oh…ya I did. 

I cringe slightly, “So here’s the thing Finn,” I’m about to tell Finn that there is no way in hell Bonnie would agree to bring another old ass vampire to Mystic Falls after what just went down, but as I look at the helpless expression on Finn’s face and the loneliness in his eyes, something in my breaks, “My witch is currently out of town for a family thing,” Finn’s shoulders sag and his face drops, “But, she said she’d be happy to help as soon as she gets back.”

Finn eyes me for a moment before a soft smile on his face appears, “I’ve waited 900 years for her…a little longer will be fine. Thank you for helping me, Y/n, I know you don’t have to but…”

“Finn we’re friends, that’s what friends do,” I say simply and Finn frowns. 

“Friends?”

The way he says the word aloud is as if he’s never heard it before.

“I mean you don’t have to be my friend, I was just-”

“I would like it,” Finn interrupts me, “It’s just that I’ve never really…had one before.”

His words bring back memories of me crying in my room, wondering why no one ever wanted to be around me and it makes me realize just how much me and this 1,000-year-old man have in common. 

“Well, I just got my first friend like 3 months ago, so I’m pretty new to this whole friend thing too.”

Finn frowns, “I don’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to be friends with you.”

I shrug, “I’m peculiar, remember?”

Finn’s upper lip twitches, “That we are.”

—

“Wait… so Kim is the oldest?”

I groan at Finn’s words, “Finnias, no! We’ve been over this Kourtney is the oldest! Kim is the one dating Kanye.”

Finn nods thoughtfully, “And we don’t like Kanye?”

I shake my head, “No because he was mean to Taylor Swift.”

I watch as the wheels turn in Finn’s head as he continues to piece together all the information on pop culture I’ve given him in the past hour. 

“Alright, I think I’m understanding. Actually…remind me again who Hannah Montana is?”

“Well, don’t you two look comfy together!”

I roll my eyes as I turn to see Demon Salvawhore smirking down at Finnias and I.

“What do you want, Demon?”

“I thought his name was Damon,” Finn questions me with a confused look.

“It is, but I still haven’t seen him and Lucifer in the same place at once so I call him Demon.”

Finn nods but looks down at his hands with a confused look.

“I just saw you two here chatting it up so I thought I might come say hi.”

“Well, we’re kind of in the middle of something here. So feel free to take your leave,” I glare at him.

“It’s alright, Y/n,” Finn says and I turn to see him getting out of the booth, “I should probably get back to make sure my siblings are still alright. But…thank you, for today and helping me.”

I smile up at Finn, “Anytime, Finnieas. And I’ll talk to Klaus about buying you that phone so I can show you how to text.”

Finn nods his head, smiling, and then walks away.

My smile falls as I glance back to Demon.

“What do you want?” “Why are you avoiding me?”

I blink slowly at him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Damon gives me an “Are you serious” look.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Pukey. I’ve tried calling you all night last night and all this morning. Only to find you here with yet another original.”

I stand up and glare at him, “Finn is my friend.”

“Ya? Just like Elijah and Klaus are right?”

This bitch.

“I’m not doing this with you right now, Damon. Leave me alone.”

I turn and walk away but Damon’s hand grabs my upper arm.

“Y/n, stop.”

“Is there a problem here, Y/n?”

I turn to my right to find Rebekah at my side, glaring at Damon.

“No, Rebekah. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Rebekah smiles at me but doesn’t move. 

Damon drops my arm but doesn’t leave, “Why are you mad at me?”

It’s my turn to give him an “Are you serious” look, “Really Damon?! You almost killed the Mikaelson yesterday, which almost killed me, and then you actually did kill Bonnie’s mom who is now turning into a vampire?!”

Damon rolls his eyes and I fight the urge to slap him.

“Bonnie’s mom needed to die,” He says simply and I glare at him.

“And why was that?”

Damon doesn’t blink, “Because it came down to you or her,” His voice comes out strong, “And I’d pretty much kill everyone in this town if it meant my best friend stayed alive.”

Oh, Jesus Christ, I’m going to cry.

“Oh…”

Damon tilts his head, annoyed,  “That’s all you have to say. Oh?”

The next thing I know I’m throwing my arms around him. 

Damon doesn’t move for a moment, but after a few seconds his arms wrap around me and he pats my head awkwardly, “Ya, okay, Pukey. Love you too.”

I let go of Damon and fight back tears in my eyes. Damon rolls his eyes and fies his jacket trying to act tough. 

“You’re too emotional,” He says nonchalantly.

I punch him in the arm, “You just called me your best friend. Not takebacks, Demon.”

Damon rolls his eyes dramatically, “Ya whatever, Pukey.”

He reaches out a hand and messes up my hair before turning around and walking away, not before I spot the small smile on his face.

“You guys are odd.”

Rebekah’s British accent makes me remember she’s standing beside me. 

“Ya, kind of.”

Rebekah rolls her blue eyes and a wave of jealousy flows through me. How is it that someone can be this pretty?! 

“So…Elijah didn’t come back until early this morning,” Rebekah’s lips morph into a smirk, “Do you know anything about that?”

I feel my face heat up, “Um…nope.”

Rebekah raises an eyebrow, “Are you sure? Because the smile that was plastered on his face all this morning says otherwise.”

I furrow my brows, “What does him smiling have to do with me?”

Rebekah gives me an “Are you serious” look, guess it’s common today, “Maybe because the only time my older brother smiles is when he’s around you…And he was really smiling this morning.” 

At her tone I freeze, “Wait…do you think that we…” I move my hands around, “Y’know…”

Rebekah raises an eyebrow at me, “Well, didn’t you?”

I shake my head viciously, “No! All we did was kiss and then he watched Coraline with me until I went to sleep!”

Rebekah’s face falls, “Seriously? You’ve got my older brother all giddy after one kiss.”

I shrug, “I doubt he was “giddy”.

Rebekah nods her head, “Oh trust me, he was practically singing when he was making his morning coffee. 

I snort out a laugh at her words and try to imagine Elijah singing. 

“I like seeing him that way…happy. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen any of my siblings like that.”

At her solemn voice, I frown, “How are you doing? After everything…”

Rebekah shrugs, “I’m fine. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t be.”

Her dismissal has me frowning deeper, “Bekah, you’re mother died. I know that she tried to kill you but it doesn’t change the fact that she was still your mother.”

Rebekah looks at me but her face doesn’t betray how she’s really feeling, “I’m fine, Y/n. Finn was the mummy’s boy. I don’t give a damn about that woman.”

I nod but still don’t believe her, “Well if you ever do need to talk to someone. You can always call me.”

Rebekah eyes me for a moment skeptically, then nods, “I won’t need to but…thanks. I guess,” Her attention strays for a moment, “There is someone I need to go talk to. Goodbye, Y/n.”

“Bye, Rebekah.”

—

I pull into my driveway but feel a frown come over my face as I notice an unfamiliar expensive-looking black car in my usual parking spot.

I park beside it and hurry into the house, worrying about Theo.

“Theo! Are you okay-”

“So, both of you have your bananas, and these right here are condoms,” I turn the corner and my jaw drops as I see Theo holding up a banana and a Trojan condom. An unfamiliar sound comes out of my mouth when I look at the two figures sitting on the couch before him with bananas in their hands and annoyed looks on their faces. Klaus and Elijah. 

“Theo what the hell are you doing?!?”

My yell of utter horror catches the three men’s attention.

“Oh, goody! Sister, I’m glad you’re here,” Theo drops his banana on the coffee table before Klaus and Elijah, a table that is covered in condoms and STD pamphlets, “After our little talk this morning I got to thinking and decided that if you and I aren’t going to talk about the elephants in the room, I’d just call up your boyfriends and have that chat with them myself.”

I stare wide-eyed at Elijah and Klaus, “And you both agreed to this?!?”

Elijah releases a deep sigh and Klaus glares at my little brother, “Your infant here called us and said we had to get over here because you were in danger.”

Theo raises his hands, “YES! In danger of catching a vampire STD.”

“Theo! Those don’t exist,” I screech at him.

“That’s exactly what we’ve tried to explain to him for the past 30 minutes, Elskan. For some reason, it isn’t sticking,” Elijah raises his head and shoots a dirty look at my brother. 

“Thirty minutes!? You’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes letting my 16-year-old brother have the sex talk with you!?”

“Well, 15 of those minutes were filled with threats,” Klaus mutters.

I glare at him, “I thought I told you to stop threatening my brother.”

Klaus turns his glare onto me and raises his hands in exhaustion, “The threats were from him, Love! And they were quite imaginative.”

“Thank you, I’ve been working on them for a while now,” Theo smirks at Klaus, and the hybrid growls at him. 

“Niklaus, please,” Elijah sighs.

Theo turns his attention back onto me, “Well now that you’re here,” He drags me over to a chair and pushes me down into, “I can finally give you the talk.”

“What talk,” Elijah asks confused.

Theo looks at him like he’s stupid, “The sex talk, dumbass. Since you,” He points to Elijah, “Like to spend the night in my sister’s bed without asking me permission. And you,” He points to Klaus, “Like to slobber all over her like the dog you are. I thought it would be a good idea to have this discussion before things move further. Now gentleman pick your bananas back up.”

“Theo! NO!”

Theo ignores me and smiles at Klaus and Elijah, who haven’t moved.

“One more dog joke out of you, Theodora and I swear I’ll-”

“Niklaus!”

Elijah and Klaus eye each other and Theo just stands there tapping his shoe on the hardwood floor. 

“Theo go to your room, right now,” I stand up and glare at him, “We are not having this discussion right now…or ever!”

“But the vampire STDS!”

“Theodore there are no such things as vampire STDS! GO TO YOUR ROOM!”

My yelling has all three men looking at me wearily. 

Theo raises his hands in surrender, “Ok, fine. Just trying to help.”

“And leave the condom here!”

Theo halts and turns back to the table and Klaus, Elijah, and I watch as Theo empties maybe 30 condoms from his jeans. 

“Bloody hell,” Klaus mutters.

I glare at Theo as he skips out of the living room and down the hall to his room. As soon as I hear his door close I run a hand over my face.

“Elskan-”

I raise a hand stopping Elijah before he can continue. 

“Nope. Whatever you’re going to say…just nope.” 

“Well, I’m never going to look at a banana the same way,” Klaus’ says sarcastically and I’m silent for a moment before a loud laugh escapes my mouth.  

I move my hands from my face and find Klaus smirking at me, and Elijah smiling softly at me with a bright look in his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you both just leave,” I asked incredulously, “You two are the strongest and oldest creatures alive, and yet you stayed to have a teenage boy teach you how condoms work?!”

Klaus and Elijah side-eye each other. 

Elijah stands from his seat and fixes his suit jacket, “When we heard that you were in danger we hurried over here as fast as we could…but when we came inside and found this,” He gestures to the table of condoms and bananas, “We were going to leave.”

“And then Theodora locked the door behind us and told us that if we didn’t sit down and shut up he’d never give us his approval. And then said that we can bet our asses that if we don’t have his approval, you’d never speak to us again. I of course told him to go to hell but my brother here sat down like the good boy he is,” Klaus says and rolls his eyes.

“And yet you’re still here,” Elijah mutters. 

“So let me get this straight,” I look to both of them, “You endured Theo’s company for 30 minutes, just because you want his approval?!”

“If his approval means you accepting us…then of course we did.”

Klaus mutters something about Theo and daggers, but I ignore him. 

“You really care that much?”

Klaus and Elijah both give me “Are you serious” looks. 

“Love, I thought we made our thoughts about you quite known,” Klaus says as he stands, “We want you. Even if that means you come with a less than exceptional little brother as baggage.”

I snort at Klaus’ words and Elijah walks across the table and over to me, “There is nothing in this world I desire more than your company and happiness, Y/n. Please believe me when I say that.”

I feel my face heat up at the attention of the two men and I nod.

“I believe you.”

“Great,” Klaus says then pauses, “Also…I was just wondering what exactly was discussed by you and Theodora to warrant all of this,” He gestures to the table with a smirk. 

Oh fuck.

[deprivedreality]

𝗜𝗦 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝘿𝙔𝙉𝘼𝙈𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏?!

Word Count: 1.2k

Content contains: pro-hero bakugo being a career man. mentions of katsuki having an s/o! I hope these ideas capture his fiery, no-nonsense personality while also showing how much he’s grown into a reliable and inspiring hero.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who when every time someone mispronounces his hero name, he snaps and shouts “It’s DY-NA-MIGHT, not ‘Dynamo’ or whatever crap you just said! Learn how to read, damn it!”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has a rigorous training schedule. Yes, cooking breakfast and cuddle time with his s/o is part of that schedule nevertheless. Even as a pro, Bakugo starts his day with a 5:00 a.m. workout. His mornings include explosive quirk drills, which terrify his neighbors, but he refuses to apologize because, “Heroes don’t take days off, morons.” He does try to keep it down a notch when he heard through his neighbors' kid that they were thinking about moving houses.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who insists on being on the frontlines for every mission, no matter the scale. He’s the first to charge in during a disaster and won’t leave until every civilian is accounted for. “If I’m not giving 100%, why the hell am I here?” And you better know that everyone appreciated him for his selfless actions.

Prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is efficient to a fault. His rescue operations are insanely effective but intimidating. He’ll shout at panicked civilians to “Move your asses, idiot!” but then carry them out of danger with precision and speed. Later, when they thank him, he awkwardly mutters, “Yeah, whatever. That's what I'm here for anyway. Just don’t get stuck again.”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has a signature explosion mark. After saving the day, he always leaves behind a controlled, smoky explosion shaped like his logo—an orange starburst with jagged edges. Kids love it and call it his “hero stamp.” He just did it one time because y/n liked the idea of him having something like a bat-signal, it became like a routine for him.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who's surprisingly good with kids. He didn’t expect it either, but kids adore him. When they swarm him for autographs, he grumbles, “You better not smudge this!” but secretly loves the attention. He even kneels down to their level so they can high-five him. It did took him time to warm up to them after some thought, he wanted to be like how All Might was when he was a kid.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is strict with his sidekicks. Bakugo’s sidekicks are the most well-trained in the industry because he pushes them relentlessly. He shouts, “If you can’t handle this, you’re wasting my damn time!” but always ensures they’re prepared for real missions.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who still has an unspoken rivalry with Deku, and everyone in general, but now it’s about who saves more people. Bakugo keeps a tally and texts deku, “Took down 8 villains today. What’s your number, nerd?”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who personally oversees every modification to his hero costume, from grenade gauntlets to lightweight boots. If the support team messes up, he’ll fix it himself, muttering, “If you can't do it right, I'll do it myself.” This causes his support team to work twice harder next time.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has workaholic tendencies. He rarely takes time off, claiming, “Villains don’t go on vacation, so why should I?” His s/o and his entire agency forces him to relax. Needless to say, his s/o alone can convince him. Even then, he’s still scanning news reports for emergencies.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is an emergency quirk strategist. Bakugo has a knack for coming up with split-second strategies in the middle of chaos. He’ll bark orders to other heroes, and while they’re annoyed at his tone, they follow him because he’s always right. Other heroes learned it the hard way one time when they didn't follow his 'suggestion' and ended up making the situation worse.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who gets tons of fan letters and gets flustered reading them. One of his fellow heroes suggested for him to buy a shredder, but you know damn well he flipped them off. He gets tons of fan mail, but he has no idea how to respond. He also did not know what to do with them until his s/o opted to help him with this problem. Sometimes he’ll scribble a quick “Thanks” with a little explosion doodle and hope it’s enough, his s/o would be the one to arrange and mail them.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is devoted to his parents. Bakugo visits his parents regularly, bringing them little gifts like flowers for his mom (which she teases him about) and bunch of snacks and clothing pieces for his dad. He even helps fix things around their house during his rare free time. He makes sure his sidekicks and secretary knows when to remind him to call them during breaks.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who has is looked up to by other pros for his emergency evacuation drills. When Bakugo’s agency holds safety drills, his team wins every time. He calls it “real hero training” and will go all-out to make sure everyone’s prepared.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who was invited one time to attend a charity by ochako and it became something he does everytime. While he’s not a fan of public speaking, Bakugo attends charity events because he believes in helping beyond hero work. He’ll reluctantly auction off items like “Bakugo’s autographed gauntlet,” secretly donating extra money because “those kids need it more.”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who is an incredible loyal team leader. Bakugo might be tough on his team, but he’s fiercely protective of them. He is especially protective of his interns, some of them referring to him as the older brother they never had. If a villain hurts one of his sidekicks, you better know he’ll go all-out to take them down while yelling, “You don’t touch my people!”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who built his own agency to be one of the best heor agency headquarter there is. His agency is a sleek, well-organized base equipped with cutting-edge tech and a training ground. The office is always clean because he enforces “No slacking off!” rules, even for janitorial staff. In his hq, he made sure that there is one room dedicated for his s/o.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who became an unintentional role model. Despite his rough personality, students and new heroes look up to Bakugo because of his dedication and success. He doesn’t know how to handle compliments and usually responds with, “Stop wasting time and go do your damn job!”

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who mastered using small, precise explosions for rescues—blasting through rubble without causing harm or creating paths for civilians. It’s become his trademark move, and no one does it better.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who's explosive personality makes him a media favorite, but he hates interviews. When forced to participate, he answers in blunt one-liners like, “Villains suck, so don’t do crime.” Although he did receive criticism at the start of hero career because of his brash attitude, but that's all.

prohero!Katsuki Bakugo who knows how to separate his personal life from his career so well that some fans were surprised when he revealed in an interview that he was already married. He proudly showed off his wedding band, telling his interviewer that he was a happy married man.

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