#and that HUSK would be the one to start it i would've laughed at your face 😭

[lukmarc10]

can we talk about how much husk has changed since the pilot?

like he literally went from this grumpy, easily annoyed, ‘i hate all of you’ type of character to the fucking THERAPIST FRIEND OF THE GROUP???

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Selfish - Alastor x Reader Oneshot

You face-planted on your bed, what semblance of energy you had left disintegrating and blowing away in the wind.

Today was too long a day.

Charlie needed some comfort after seeing the news roast the hotel again.

Vaggie needed to be calmed down because everyone got on her nerves.

Angel Dust needed a good hug and reassurance that he was worth something.

Husk had drank too much and threw the empty bottle at you when said as much. (He apologized afterward and the guilt made it easier for you to usher him to bed)

Lucifer was disassociating hardcore and you had to walk him through basic selfcare.

Nifty....Was Nifty.

Not that you minded that they needed different help here and there. Everyone needed a helping hand, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to. And as far as you were concerned, it really was the least you can do. You couldn't fix their problems, but you can carry some of the load for them. That was...something, right?

A knock on the door made you grimace. Masking your agitation with a neutral expression, you opened your door to see none other than the Radio Demon himself.

He grinned down at you, his arms crossed behind his back, his posture straight, his clothes smooth and unwrinkled.

But...his grin seemed a bit strained, at the corners.

Alastor was difficult to comfort as he insisted he didn't have emotions anyway. And he hated to be touched. And his favorite food was raw venison or demon meat. So most of your techniques didn't have much ground.

However, he did love to laugh. So when he needed it, you would often play the role of a clown.

You leaned against the doorframe, crossing your arms across your chest and looked up at him with an exaggerated grin.

"Whazzzzah?" You said, intentionally making your voice nasally and high pitched.

Alastor picked you up like a suitcase and carried you back to your bed, sitting you down on the edge of it and kneeling in front of you. His expression didn't change as his eyes flicked over you.

You swallowed thickly. "Er...What bees the ups my dudes?"

No change in expression. No confusion, no mild irritation.

You started to get fidgety. Maybe you needed some new material? You like doing the funny voices and the purposely incorrect grammar, but if he was sick of it it'd be-

You train of through abruptly derailed as Alastor's hand came up to cradle your face. The other one brushing some of your hair out of your eyes. One claw lightly grazed your skin and you winced.

"So Husker's little fit did hurt you, hm?" He said, pressing the pad of his thumb against a spot typically hidden by your bangs - now adorned with a partially scabbed-over cut.

You winced again "What're you talking about?"

"Oh, my dear. I heard what happened between the two of you. The drunkard got a bit too brash and ended up hurting you."

You sighed "It was an accident."

Alastor's eyes narrowed "Ah yes, it's always an accident with you."

You met his glare "What do you mean by that?"

The Radio Demon waved his hand, materializing some first-aid equipment. He didn't even let you know when he applied some antiseptic to your cut making you hiss through gritted teeth.

"A little heads up would've been nice!"

"An accident, my dear."

You deflated immediately "Ah. Okay, sorry-"

"Thank you for proving my point." He cut you off, a slight growl to his voice. Alastor slapped a bandage over your wound and pulled back, glaring at you intently.

"Huh?"

He rolled his eyes "Everything everyone ever hurts you with is an 'accident' to you. No one ever means to hurt you."

You scowled "Husk didn't mean to hurt me!"

"You're allowed to be mad you know." He huffed "Even if it was an 'accident', you could be mad he threw a fucking glass bottle at you!"

"He didn't mean to." You insisted.

"And Charlie didn't mean to dump all her woes on you, and Vaggie didn't mean to make you play peacemaker, and Angel Dust didn't need you to be a therapist. And Lucifer didn't need you to play nurse. And nifty...." he trailed off, unsure how to categorize your helping Nifty today. He shook it off and met your eyes. You glared back at him and pushed him away.

"No! None of them meant to! I chose to-"

"Would it really kill you to be selfish once in a while?" He said, tilting his head. Red eyes narrowed as his ears pinned back on his head.

"Firstly, i'm already dead. Secondly, I'm always selfish!"

"Give me an example."

"WELL, Mister Everything-Is-My-Business, I slept in to like, noon, yesterday-!"

"Because you spent all night listening to Vagatha."

"-and yesterday I ate the last of the spaghetti-!"

"From the meal you skipped while you helped Nifty hunt bugs."

"I hid in my room all day-!"

"Due to everyone not paying any attention to your immense discomfort at their ruckus."

"...You're dumb." You said, crossing your arms across your chest. Alastor rolled his eyes and pushed you down so you were lying on your bed. His hands were on either side of your head as he leered over you.

"Despite doing nothing but listening to everyone's endless ramblings all day, you're immediate reaction upon seeing me is to play jester and make me feel better."

"You looked upset." You said.

Alastor sighed "Exactly your problem, my dear." He moved away so he wasn't pinning you to your bed, calmly removing his monocle to clean it before gingerly placing it back onto his face.

You rolled onto your side to watched him. "...I don't think it's a problem to care."

"It is a problem to care too much."

"Well, you don't care enough so I guess we even eachother out."

Alastor hummed, looking away from you. You bit your lip. Maybe...you pushed that too far? You never really held back the sass with Alastor, but he was already irritated....

"Ask me for something." He said.

"Eh?"

He snorted, ears flopping in agitation "As you said, you care too much, i care too little. So now we'll do this: you care less about what I want and you care more about what you want."

You blinked, confused "....That's. Oddly sweet of you?"

Alastor snorted in response, still locked in a staring contest with the opposite wall. There seemed to be a bit of red creeping up the sides of his face.... Now was he turning red because he was mad or because he was....flustered?

"So. Can i ask you for anything?"

"Within reason."

"....Can I get a hug?"

The record scratch was audible.

"You have the Radio Demon offering you to do a favor for nothing in return, and you ask for a hug?"

"That's what I want?" You said, snuggling underneath your duvet. "Don't worry about it if you don't wanna-"

"Oh for the LOVE OF!" Alastor cut himself off, grumbling something under his breath that did not sound as jovial as his permanent grin may imply.

The man briefly disappeared into a puff of shadows before reappearing under the duvet with you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing your head into his chest.

You laughed. "Was it that hard to just lift the blanket?"

"Quiet, you." Alastor muttered into your hair. You sighed contently, snuggling closer to him.

"Can I hug you back?"

He tensed up next to you, so you dropped it. Despite his insistence on you being selfish, he didn't push you any further. Instead relaxing more as you made no move to hold him.

"Thanks, Alastor. I'm gonna drift off, so you can head out if ya want." You mumbled into his shirt.

"We'll see."

You didn't bother trying to fight sleep, letting the exhaustion of the day catch up with you and your troubles drift away as you listened to the Radio Demon's heart.

Alastor was still there when you woke up, but don't you dare mention it.

[fraugwinska]

Could you do a backstory to Hard Day? Like, how Al decided to give up control, and the first time it happened 🥺🙏

Ummm... well, I may have gotten myself a bit lost in this one :D Idk, It's gotten quite out of hand, 2,5 k words... but...um yeah :D Praying you like it :> Attention - we cook with Chili, not salt today! (MDNI)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The hardest Day

„That's so unrealistic! I mean, in what world would a lion eat bugs instead of the fucking fat juicy PIG?!“

„It's a kids movie, asshole, shut up!“

The gang was sprawled out in front of the TV, blankets and popcorn everywhere. Charlie got her hands on a rare copy of 'The Lion King', and invited everyone to a 'nice, unproblematic, quiet' movie night. She didn't account for Angel's constant commentary, Husk's annoyed retorts to him or Niffty's gleeful giggling at the most unfitting scenes. Vaggie, frustrated by them, started adding to the chaos, sending scolding remarks in intervals at either of them, while Charlie tried to mediate in between songs – which she always sang along with.

You, however, were highly entertained – even though you didn't catch anything from the movie, just watching them was amusing enough. The only one missing was Alastor, who had 'business to attend' and was gone since breakfast ended.

He would've hated it anyway, you knew he had no interest in movies, let alone modern ones, and group activities like these were often straining on his patience. Although getting in the hotel last, you were the one who grew the closest to him. Why? You couldn't say definitively. Maybe it was because you never took his veiled jabs by heart. Maybe because you didn't treat him the way the others wanted you to – with care, with ignorance, with suspicion; but instead with respect, an open mind and without judgment. Maybe it was because you could challenge him – discussions about books you both read could last hours, with points given to either side equally – no winner, no loser, both richer.

You liked Alastor. Really liked him. You also had a silly, little crush on him, for a while now, but you kept that to yourself, nothing going further than a few flirtatious moments 'in good fun', calling each other 'doe' and 'buck' with a laugh. A joke between friends. Friendship, you decided, was enough for you, if it was for him.

The entrance doors slammed suddenly, making you all jump in your seats. Alastor stood at the door, looking... different. Stressed? You cocked a brow when you saw his eye twitch, while he sauntered over to the group.

„Al, do you want to join us? We're watching a movie!“, Charlie said absent-mindedly, her eyes glued to the scene of 'Can you feel the love tonight'.

Alastor gave the TV set a judgmental smile and waved his hand. „Tempting, but it has been a rather hard day, I'll just take a drink and retreat to my room, dear.“ He left the group and went to the bar, your pair of eyes the only one following him. Something was NOT right. His smile was tight, his eyes wider than usual, his movements almost jagged instead of fluid. Niffty had jumped to the bar too, insisting on helping Alastor by retrieving a glass for his whiskey from one the higher shelves. In her eagerness to climb and get it, she didn't watch her steps careful enough, resulting in a few delicate wine glasses sliding from the shelfves and breaking into a hundred tiny pieces. Alastor's reaction was as unexpected as it was worrying – he always had a soft spot for Niffty, laughing over her antics and chaotic energy, often encouraging her even to produce more mayhem. This time, however, he started to scold the maid, who blinked at him with a big, guilty eye and trembling lips.

„Such indignation, really Niffty. Clean the shards at once, and try not to remain to be such a clumsy clot.“, he almost hissed, grabbing the bottle and a simple crystal glass before striding away hastily. Your eyes followed his figure until he turned the corner to the staircase, then you got up and comforted the little demon, helping her sweeping up the glass pieces while she sniffeled tears away.

You let your gaze swipe over the group, completely ignorant about what happened with Niffty, and Alastor. Ignorant of the blatantly obvious bad mood of the deer demon.

Turning to Charlie, you whispered to her that you had a headache and would be going to bed, to which she just nodded. No one acknowledged your leave, all eyes on the screen and still bickering noisily. A bunch of friends, you are, you thought annoyed with a shaking head.

Three flights of stairs later, you reached Alastor's room. You pressed your ear to the door, and heard dull bangs, like something was thrown, and a muffled voice. You knocked, and the room instantly stilled.

„Alastor, it's me.“, you said loudly, brows furrowed. „Are you okay?“

A few seconds of silence. „I'm just fine and dandy my dear.“

You put one hand on the door. He normally would open it, to speak with you directly, face uncomfortably close to face, just the way he liked it. But it stayed close.

„You didn't look fine.“, you stated. You were ever so stubborn.

„Well, I am fine. Now shoo, darling, good night.“

You stood in front of the wooden divider, contemplating. You could just go. Leave him be, wait until tomorrow. See if he would talk to you then. But then, there was your gut. And it told you Alastor wasn't well. And that just didn't sit right with you.

„Alastor. Please, let me in.“

No response, just hint of the prickling feeling of static electricity on your skin.

„I know something is bothering you, and I'm worried.“

No response. You breathe in and out.

„I'm not going anywhere until you open the...“

The door flew open, a hand wrapped around your arm and pulled you into the room, violently. You stumbled and fell against a bookshelf, catching the fall with your hands to keep you upright. You heard a slam and a click – door closed, door locked. The static was everywhere now, flushing in waves over your body. You turned around -

Alastor was pacing like a wounded animal, he seemed fluffed up, as if every hair on his body had decided to stand up. His scleras were dark pits, blackest black, and in it his irises burned angrily in crimson flames, now focusing solely on you. The prey.

„So you came to test my patience too, dear?“, he snarled, his voice so distorted it ached in your ears. „It's not enough that that waste of cables destroyed two of my radio towers. Not enough that dozens of my most profitable souls have been rendered useless by an angelic bomb. Not enough that I not only had to put the disgraceful flat screened wretch back in his place, but also his vulgar boy toy and their brazen, attention-seeking brat.“

He grew in size as he ranted, you watched him reaching the ceiling, antlers scraping along the walls. „I manage my weakening territories, manage these imbeciles who think they can play overlords, I manage this sad excuse of a hotel, I manage the princess's unattainable ideas, and now, I also need to manage you, too, of all people? What a disappointm...“

„Stop.“

You held up a hand. Alastor growled, fluffing up even more, limbs cracking and static popping. „How dare y...“

„Stop.“, you said again. Your tone was calm, void of anger, or fear, neutral and steady. He stared at you, and you held his gaze. „Breathe, Alastor.“

You saw him fighting with himself. He fought against his instinct to oppose, to command, to put you into your place, to rip you apart. His elongated claws scraped over the floor, ripping deep ridges in the wood.

„Breathe.“, you repeated, firmer this time.

Slowly, gradually, Alastor shrunk. Breathed. Crumbled. Until he was back to his usual size and form, only with an exhausted expression.

You studied him – you've never seen him like that. He never allowed anyone to see him as something other than 'the radio demon': Powerful, unshakeable, quick on his feet and always one step ahead. How exhausting it must be. To always have the control also meant to always carry responsibility, to always fear impending failure.

Your heart whispered to you, and you followed it's advice. It could be the most stupid thing you could do, but you decided to do it anyway.

„Come here, Alastor.“

He looked at you, unsure, suspicious. You sounded commanding, but not harsh. Inviting. Like a hand, reached out to someone trapped. For a moment, you almost thought you ruined everything – his eyes left yours, they fell to the ground as he shifted on his feet.

But then – steps. Coming closer. Stopping right in front of you. And suddenly..

His head on your shoulder. His breath on your neck. His voice in your ear.

„Sometimes I'm so sick of it all. Sick of maneuvering, sick of ruling, governing, planning...“

You touched his neck, he let you, caressing the soft skin, heated from his outburst, trembling slightly at the contact. It was intimate, baring this vulnerable part to you. You heart broke for him.

He pulled himself away from you, searching for your eyes. Finding them again, he took your hand, bringing it up to his face, guiding your fingers over his lips. He just said one word.

„Please.“

So much was said with this please. You heard every message. Giving up control, just for a bit, just with something he didn't care enough about to insist on ruling, could be a small bit of freedom. Letting himself be guided instead of leading.

“Kneel down, Alastor.”

His ears pressed flat against his head, but he did as he was told. He couldn't look you in the eyes. For once, you were the one towering over him. You took his face in your hands, pulling it so he looked up to you, seeing your warm smile before your lips met his.

His breath hitched, stuck somewhere in his throat.

You slid one hand to the back of his neck, pulling him closer, the other caressing his cheek as you tilted your head and deepened the kiss. Slowly, the rigidity melted away, he started to shift, lips no longer stiff but soft and molding against your own.

He tried to stand up, but you pushed him down, gently, definitively.

“Trust me to guide you, buck.”

He breathed, one, two, three times, eyes closed, grin tight.

“Yes, doe.”

Your own excitement took a back seat. You were filled with pure energy at the thought of crossing the line with him, having Alastor in a way you only dreamed about, convinced your relationship would never come this far. But. But this was not about you, for now. Maybe, another time. If another time ever came.

You lowered yourself on him, straddling him, so you were still 'taller', and rejoined your lips. You took his hands and set them on your hips, let them rest there while you buried yours in his hair, tugging lightly to bend his head back. His initial resistance lessened, and he gave in, exposing his throat, gray skin peeking out of his high collar. You let your mouth travel to his jawline, down to the small patch of delicate, thin skin, right next to his jugular. You felt him tense, felt his rising urge to protect himself from your potential strike. You let out a soft hum as you started to lick it, sucking gently, just a bit, just to make him shiver at the sensation. And how he did.

A moan, low and sweet like the strumming of a cello, escaped him, his hands crushing your hips by the force of his grip. It hurt, but you decided to ignore it. Little steps.

“Can you take more, good boy?”

His eyes snapped open, burning furiously. You met them with calmness, with a soft matter-of-fact-ness. Not smug, not mocking. A question. Proceed or Stop?

Alastor swallowed hot saliva. You could see he was getting overwhelmed, overstimulated, and yet, he had such a longing in his eyes, such desperation.

“Yes.”

One simple word. One spark, setting your body on fire. You tried to force your trembling fingers to steady, lifting yourself slightly off him to open his trousers. With every button, his breaths grew heavier, his grip on your legs grew tighter, claws already digging in your skin and drawing blood.

“Careful, buck. I'll need these in a moment.”, you said, placing both hands on his chest, pushing him flat on his back on the ground. He let you go, arms falling useless next to him.

You leaned forward, thanking any deity that would listen you decided to wear a skirt today, and placed a hand on his growing bulge. He hissed at the touch, cracking the floor as his fingers clawed into the wood of the floor instead your fleshy legs.

Freed from it's cage, Alastor's dick was already dripping with beads of precum, a sight to behold. You wrapped your fingers around it, feeling the warmth and bloodflow, it twitched in your hand. You stroke him, eliciting the most sinful noises from the demon under you.

You took a deep breath. One more, one question more, to make sure that he wanted it.

“Look at me, Alastor.”

He sat up on his elbows, looking more helpless than you've ever imagined he could. Even his smile wavered, threatening to break. You were looking for any signs of hesitation, disgust, resistance, regret. You only found desire. A want, a need, almost pleading eyes.

Your free hand pushed your panty away, enough to expose your lips, and you lowered yourself onto him, his length slowly entering you. He was big, you were tight. A bittersweet combination. Sparks flew before your eyes as he stretched you, but you were hypnotized by his eyes.

They were blown wide, returned to black, but the irises now flickering into dials, turning, left to right as he groaned. You moved, guiding your hips up and down, feeling yourself molding to his shape in the most delectable way, and getting drunk off the look on his face.

You increased the pace on which you pushed yourself on him, adding a little tilt of your hips to take him even deeper. His voice was reduced to a static-y mess, hums and groans and moans bleeding into each other. You placed both of your hands on his chest for more support, inevitably pinning him down. His hands flew to yours, threatening to push them off him, but instead, he entwined his fingers with yours, panting heavily.

It didn't take long for him to feel the pressure, unbearable and urgent, his release approaching at godspeed.

“Doe, I can't...”

Panic in his tone. He tried to put his hands on your waist to pull you off. You understood immediately – an upbringing in conservative times, decades of living by the rules of a gentleman, he was resisting against the thought of cumming inside you. You pushed his hands away.

“Yes, you can.”, you stated, smiling at him, a hint of wickedness in your eyes. “And you will.”

Your skilled movements and dedicated demeanor sent him over the edge immediately. Protests were futile as he came in you forcefully, you felt his cock pumping his seed deep into you, hot and thick as you rocked him through his orgasm. Your own high wasn't worth chasing, too far away to matter. You didn't even think about it – nothing could feel better than this.

Alastor ran his hands over his forehead, sweeping away beads of sweat as his breath calmed down.

His hand shot out to grab you, and, still impaled by him, he pulled you into his chest, invading your mouth with his tongue to kiss you possessively. As if to transfer the command, the control he had given up, back to him. Taking it from you.

For a moment you were scared. The positions had reset to their default. Would that mean he'd push you off? Say goodnight and never talk about this night again? Returning to the Status Quo. Friends, the end.

Alastor pulled your chin up to look at you. His thumb ran over your cheek, tenderly and full of care. His eyes answered every question in your mind. You weren't scared anymore.

[doublekanble]

deer (after the car crashed)

Alastor/reader (gnc)

romantic

word count: 4.7k

Or, a confession, (somewhat) note: not nesnecessarily connected, but IS written in the spirit of deer (iahl). someone said p2 where he confessed and i thought 'he would've never, he would do every romantic thing in the book and cry over your dead body but he will never ask you out. reader got hurt, non-descriptive as i am but a silly guy, very possibly wrong description of a little medical things.

The gramophone in the corner of your room play a tune that he himself isn’t exactly fond of, but didn’t exactly hate. It’s been your favorite ever since you spent more than a month of your wages to win an “online” bidding war for the limited release. As he hum along, he held onto your jaw, fingers sharp and all claws doing its best to not leave so much a scratch on your chin. Just as gently, he let the tip of a thermometer sits on your tongue, and close your mouth.

Finished, but not leaning back, he take a second to look at you, almost a sneer on his face at your state, he trust that by the time you wake up, you can still remember the faces of whoever it is that harmed you. Even if you can’t, he mused, he’ll help you. Hopefully you know how to recognize bones structure. He turn back to the book he left half-way through and pick up where he left off, a book you tried to read several times. Would you let him spoil the ending, he wonder. Reaching for his neat whiskey as he scanned the line printed on yellowed paper, he down it in one go.

(somewhat, Alastor let the thought fester, he also became a culprit. Having time after time parading you by his side, thinking that he can always shelter you)

 You’ve always been good at giving books recommendations, despite finishing only a handful of them. You’re also a delight to be around, much more than anyone in the hotel can ever afford to be. Always finding himself around you, adding seconds to minutes to hours, and then when he would check the time, you both would’ve already missed dinner, talking about nothing all the while.

(he would laugh, and you would chuckle, and he offers you meat, and you'd denied. You don’t feel like eating that day, you’d say. That’s how he started checking up on you, even though eating is nothing more than a passing hobby down here in Hell)

Needless to say, you’re his favorite, worming into his heart in such a short amount of time. It’s even much more redundant to even bother insinuating that he might do everything he can just to keep you safe. Having taken enough time to think about the unfamiliar emotions you stirred in his heart, he decided that it’s welcomed to stay for as long as he wants it to. As such, Alastor acquainted himself with the need to make sure you’ll never have to worry about a single missing strand of hair on your head. Always more of a caretaker, he finds it utterly adorable how your nonchalant demeanor always falters under his relentless care. Never the heart to deny it, but never fully accepting it either.

And it should’ve stayed that way, with you blubbering about and tripping over your own words while acting like nothing is wrong, and him hovering over you, grinning as he brush off whatever you gotten onto your clothes that day. But it couldn’t possibly stay that way when you’re lying on your bed wrapped up and unresponsive, unable to even give him an excuse as to why you stumbled back through the front door after what supposed to be a quick errand trip, scaring poor Charlie to death with ugly, gnarling gashes in the shape of long running lines down your arms and several red holes staining your shirt, one logged deeply in your left inner thigh. You would promptly pass out the moment she rush to your side and stays that way for three days and two horrible, grueling night.

He wasn’t even there, staying in his radio tower for the day. Assuming that you’ll come to him if you needed something, he let his shadows rest at the corner of his eyes. Only when Husk burst into the room -furs all frazzled and sweaty- that he knows. When he came down to you, you’re out like a light for at least three hours already, Angel sitting on your bed with two bullet in a red cup sitting at his side. His pink and white gloves stained red, it trembles as he drop yet another one into the cup, then slowly goes back to gently reaching in for another one.

“Can’t afford to work fast, been some months since I hafta pull anything out on my own. Heh.” He laughs to soothe himself, shuddering under his breath. Saying that, Angel makes it clear he doesn’t trust anyone else to do this. The sheets that Nifty changed for you already turning red, the one at the foot of the bed brown. The unfortunate downside to natural healing is that you tend to bleed for a long time until you're stable enough for your meat to reconnect.

(the bottom of his shoes would later step on that same brown, mixing another red into it. He was -and still is- torn open at the thought)

Alastor likes to play up the lie that he doesn’t understand fear or anxiety, pretend that he have never been at the feet of anyone else other than himself. And he would go through the duration of your relationship letting you see him as such. He’s someone you can rely on; someone you can trust with everything you have without the lingering fear that he’ll pull it from under you one day. But you always been individualistic to a degree, it was never a problem before.

(you dislike not knowing where to go and what to say, so you never do anything or say anything that might ruin the perception people have of you. You seems so close off like that, he said. You’re not, you insisted, you’d let anyone you love in as long as they ask)

Briefly, as he seated back onto the armchair now sitting right by your bedside, thermometer back in hand, he ponders about how he must’ve looked to the others when he first step into the room. You yourself are often entertained by the macabre sight of his much more unpleasant form, calling it endearing at times. But the others are much less appreciative of it. They don’t come in that often, anyway, only Nifty and Angel does. It’s not that they don’t care about you, it’s simply that he deemed them completely and utterly useless.

(he wonders when you woke up, will you let him back in, already knows how it'll play out)

Vaggie busied herself with taking care of Charlie, who can’t look at you without bursting into tears. Her weeping heart normally is entertaining to see in action, but an on-edge and scared Charlie is a messy Charlie, and she nearly pour hot water on you and Angel Dust - who hurriedly covered you up with his lanky frame. He appreciate the spider demon extended effort in keeping you safe, having only left to pick out a disc to put back into the gramophone himself.

Through gnashing teeth and a too-wide smile, Alastor asked Vaggie to keep check on her dear partner. And they haven’t been seen near your room since. Promised by Angel to come by and give updates whenever he can.

Nifty’s appearance would be much more erratic. At first, it’s to take away things that Angel stops using, cleaning it up and putting it back to its spot. Then after that, bringing with her tea and biscuits Pentious made and practically begged her to bring to you that would, in turn, sit on the bedside table until her next visit to change the sheets and duvet again. He can tell she’s a bit more bothered by the fact that you’re still bleeding onto the sheets than you being unconscious. She did ask him when you’ll be awake. He doesn’t know.

(he can’t fathom the idea of you pushing him away. but the taste of dirty copper stains the roof of his mouth for the days you wasted away on your bed)

And Angel, much more agitated than anyone else, much more competent than everyone else, grumbles about how hard it is to change your bandages with Alastor hovering over his shoulders. After the 3rd time, he figured the demon would never stop, so he let him keep watch.

Alastor would’ve done it himself, not trusting the spider (or anyone else for that matter) with touching you now that his part in clearing your wounds is done, if not for how his eyes lingers on your right hand, your dominant hand. The one with the tear in the web between your pointer and middle finger, running down by at least 3 centimeters, sewn shut with skills Alastor almost wishes he have. He hates that he fully understood why Angel would be staring down at you with such a miserable expression.

When you’re bleeding finally stable enough so that you don’t need the bandages change as much anymore, Angel would come by with a thermometer, placing it in his hand and asked him to keep check on you and change your bandages if needed while he himself went off to make up for the work he “missed out on”. His phone now finally back in his hand after the constant ringing in the 7th hour nearly cracked Alastor’s patient, left behind with Fat Nuggets.

(Husk would come by one time, on the fourth hour of your rest. Alastor would leave for one. When he came back, Angel doesn’t have the heart to questioned why he reeks, simply chiding him to try and go change)

Holding it in his hand and turning it over, he look at the readings and think you would’ve thanked God for your wounds not being infected, or at least enough to give you a fever. Angel did well. He thinks about how downright disgusting the wounds looked on you despite seeing so much worse in his time. It won’t scar you, but it’ll take more than a week for you to even hold a pen, let alone moving it without any pain. At least it’ll heal. He would’ve killed God if he could.

Returning to his (your) book, he felt a pit forming in his stomach, you’re easy to read, he’ll know what to do once you talk again. Alastor pretends he doesn’t feel fear, but it certainly is much more unpleasant when it’s about someone else. He expected you to wake up soon, if it’s not tomorrow, he doesn’t know how he can hold it back, taste of copper still stuck to his teeth.

--

It took you five days and five night for you to start opening up your eyes. Six and a half for you to rasped out a weak apology for making him worried, being hand-fed as much water and porridge as possible in between the short sentence before you immediately fell back onto your pillow and sleep for the rest of the day. Angel Dust who was there at the time slipped away to pass out the good news to the rest of the hotel residents.

Despite so, nobody enters the room more than once for rest of the night. In their stead, hand-made paper flowers and get-well-soon cards stays with you on your bedside table. He knows they’re making something else in the main lobby, and it’s absolutely hilarious to him that they think you’ll be able to walk anytime soon to see it yourself. One time, Pentious tail bump the garbage can on his way out, Alastor can feel his terrified gaze, but choosing not to pay the fool any mind. Your right hand in his left, he sit with a glass of whiskey on the rock instead, armchair now sitting next to your bed and facing the bundle of gifts.

(Husk would come in twice before the dawn came to give him two more drink and to give you a lousy card, clearly been made by Charlie in his stead. He waited for Alastor’s permission before placing it on top of the pile with all the others)

At early dawn, he held himself back as you stir awake. Your hand wrapped in his, giving him a squeeze so weak he barely able to feel it. but he felt it nonetheless, and in spite of his wearing sanity, he simply returns the gesture and lifted your hand up to his thinning grin.

“Good morning darling, you gave us quite the scare there. I hope you’re finally awake enough to know where you are?”

Still with that charming tone, but so much smaller and quiet in the room. He waited for your reaction to see how far off you are from consciousness, when the corner of your lip stretches just a bit, he smile with a bit more heart, but it still border on exhaustive. Turning the words sitting on his tongue, back and forth after the relief finally settled, he wonders if it's worth it.

Placing the half-finished whiskeys on your bedside table and accidentally draws your eyes to all of the get-well gift. Not too awake yet, you look back at him with a blank expression and his rotted heart jumps in his chest.

“Ah, those.” he heave a sigh, “They’re from the lots here. You’ve missed a group exercises or two dear.” He leans over you, mindful to not pull your arm with him. Even so, your eyes squinted just a bit, it breaks him more than he’d ever want to admit. “I’d suggest you get used to it though. It’ll be quite some time before you can leave the room.” Borderline on warning you, yet tone still playful, he watches as you breathe and turn your head towards the ceiling, eyes off him.

“…I figured…” You’re so pitiful like this ,he thought as he poured a cup of water for you with one hand, not minding the cards and flowers that fell off in the meantime, they can wait until he’s done with this.

You made a miserable attempt at sitting to take the cup on your own for all of a second before you drop back down with a quiet “oofm”, the bed barely creaks while you seethed and writhed, cursing under your breath, hand finally leaving his to set itself on the soft surface. It’s shaking, your entire body, that is. Briefly, you try to open your right hand, and you stop. Separately, he cursed you and your wretched independence.

“Hurt?”

“I'm surprised I'm still alive…”

“It’s no wonder,” Alastor carefully lifted your head up, bringing the cup to your lips and let you take slow sip as he starts, tone just a tad bit too grating, “you did come crawling back to the hotel with 5 bullet in your torso and more than a few scratches that our fellow spider friend almost can’t handle! Really! I’d be glad to still be breathing if I were you.”

His words almost too fast for someone who just woke up from a week-long coma to get and he knows. But Alastor have been sitting in an armchair that felt one size too small for him for seven days constantly going through your two records and 3 books and reliving the moment he sees you on your bed with your eyes closed shut like a corpse in a casket. So even as he lay your head down and put the cup away, gesture loving and gentle, he still can’t help but to sneer at you.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to die again. You know that if you really wanted to, I would’ve gladly assisted you with leaving this side of the living world. Or the dead! No need for scraping scraps off the road.” He tries to play it off as a joke, laughing a bit to himself. But he knows you know. At the sounds of your beloved song being drown out by his growing static, he tries to keep his composure still. “What was it that got you stumbling through the door like a kicked pup on the road, by the by? Did you got caught in the storm drain picking up daisies? A run-in with a past nemesis? Please, do feel free to share, dear. You were so eager to run off on your own with that little errand of yours without a word to me after all.”

It's something that he compels you to do early on when he started taking you out with him. Simply inform him when you planned to leave the hotel alone, especially if it was to some much fouler part of the Pride Ring. Let alone the trail of dried blood that Husk traced after was irritatingly far from the hotel. You didn’t just stumble into the hotel on your last leg, you dragged yourself back to him one coin from your death bed.

It's been seven days, and the taste of copper still lingers. Alastor is not a patient man, but he likes to think he tried his best to be, especially with you. But the more you stay silent without even facing him, the more he can feel his self-restraints pulling at the seams, so close to breaking.

“That’s not funny, Alastor.”

Without time to even mourn the façade he plays up for you that long since crumbled to dust, Alastor hovers over you, fingers digs and tears at the sheet. It’s a habit grown bad, the way he defaults to less-than-vague threatening gestures and mocking words the moment he feels too vulnerable, something you picked up on naturally and never bothered poking him with. But the more he lingers by your side, the more he’s aware that he simply cannot just do that to you, someone who can freely walk off from him. And with his growing need to keep you by his side, you would more likely be hurt by him than anyone else in all of Hell.

“It never was supposed to be, dear. Now, do I have to pry it out of you or do you want to tell me why?”

For seven days and six nights have he been thinking. If he learns to keep you somewhere no one else can see you, Alastor would’ve never found you on the stained bed with bullets decorating your innards.

(this anger should’ve never been directed towards you, but somewhere deep in his wretched, rotted heart, he thought that you should’ve stayed away in the first place, he begged that you yell at him so he can finally leave you alone)

And Alastor would’ve gone on, would’ve said something even more nasty to pull some kind of reaction out of you, but you, with your eyes looking out what part of the window that the curtain haven’t covered up and a voice so small he can hold in one hand. Almost like you’re sorry.

“They say it’s because I know you.”

And he let himself fall by the foot of your bed.

It’s a snicker at first, then a chuckle, then he start to laugh. And he keeps laughing as his claws pulls at the sheets and left marks just as ugly as it was on your arms. Claws as sharp as the one that have dug itself into you, now tearing lines into your duvet and sheets and bedding and open up scars. But your warmth grows apparent as your trembling fingers held onto his claws. And despairingly, he held onto you.

Even though he already know, even though he was frantically getting into your face and forcing you to confirmed what he learned by the middle of the fifth hour. Alastor still feel a horrible sense of defeat washes over him as he held tightly onto your right hand, the information’s utterly revolting, coming directly from you.

And even knowing that he’s hurting you, he still refuses to let go as your bandages slowly bleeds red. Promises to himself that if you let go, he will. And when your other hand reaches over, your breathing’s heavy, he prayed you’d pry his hands off yours. And when you didn’t. It takes everything he have to not lock you away forever and never letting you out.

“I don’t want to bother you so much. It wasn’t even supposed to be that far of a trip, but I panicked and didn't realized they were leading me from the hotel…” you paused, wanting to go on but wasn’t sure how to soothe him while the implication kills him. Just what sort of godly deeds did he ever do throughout his life and death to have you by his side? And just what sort of unearthly karma is placed upon you for you to be stuck by his?

You know this happened because of your ties to him, but there’s not a lick of anger from your end as you give him the time and privacy he barely granted you to collect himself. And as time pass on without a word from both side, you start to drift off, still beyond tired even after the long rest. But he can feel your hands still holding onto his. Oh, what a pair, you and him. An idiot that refuses to leave and a dog that can’t let go. The last song plays before he needs to reset the needle as he gather the strength to clear his throat and break the silence.

“I’m sorry dear, I-,” He rasped out, voice strained and unsteady, having laughed himself raw, it sounded as if he’s the one that just came back from the death. “I know you won’t be gone for long, but I simply just-“ neither the gun or bullets he held in his hand at that time are made with Angelic metals, they would beg and cry out to him. The bastards couldn’t have afforded enough to spare you any. But it doesn’t do well to quench the pain in his heart, neither would it let the wound on your body heal any faster.

He laugh a light and airy laugh, unable to tell you what you already know. “I must beg for your forgiveness mon cher. It seems I simply can’t handle the idea of being parted from you for too long anymore.”

(like mocking, beloved, but shouldn’t have never been his, you shouldn’t have gotten stuck with a rotting corpse of a deer chained to a tree, but he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, so you’re his)

“That was genuinely shitty of you.” Right to the point. Despite you letting him hanging onto you so desperately, despite holding onto him so kindly, you never bothered to mince your word, more than exasperated, almost like you’re scolding a child. “I know you said that because you’re upset too. But if you were anyone else, I would’ve actually just, kick you out.”

Dragging himself up, careful to keep your wounds from flaring up with any more pain than it already had, he sits right next to you, bringing himself closer to your face and placing your right hand into his lap, almost like croaking, the static in his voice comes in and out. “I know, dear. Whatever it is I can do to make amends. I will.” He will leave if you asked him to, if only Alastor is anything else but a selfish dog, he will never let you know.

“I don’t want you to fix anything, Al. Just-“ he relaxed his grip, hearing you called him like that again, in such a voice, something blooms inside him again, he mourned your fate. “try to not do that again, yeah? It feels like shit waking up after all of that and then getting yell at.”

Chuckling humorlessly, of course you would ask for something so simple. He lie down next to you, storing the little mundane sight of your much more relaxed face so close to his off into the back of his head. “Of course, my dear. I vowed with all of my heart, or- whatever’s left of it.” Something like this will never, ever happened again. Not as long as he’s still breathing. And you, too eager to place the unfortunate incident behind you, but too worn out to laugh along, you simply smiles and close your eyes, face flushes red.

“Whatever you say, fucking dork…”

“Oh, such ghastly insults! How will I ever survive?” he turns over and lie on his stomach, hand holding up his head while leaning over you, play with your unkempt hair like a maiden in love. “And right after I spent my days keeping over you! What a heartbreaker you truly are, darling. I wonder what dear old Charlie would say to such a foul mouth?”

Your mouth open for a bit, then screwed itself shut, words failed to form as you try to hold in a giggle at his antics. Despite your gramophone still playing the same set of songs since last week, his heart finally get to rest when the atmosphere in your room grows much brighter. For your sake, he let you find your footing while brushing bangs into your face. Your breathing is still heavy, tinged with pain and what else that will surely follow you for the next gruesome month, but at least you’re laughing.

And then, as if on loose tongue, you stop him dead in his track. “Why do you call me that?”

Alastor froze, the claws dancing on your forehead moved to held onto the side of it, nearly nicked you in the process. He forced you to face him.

“Do enlighten me darling. What do I call you?”

“Like that.”

He raised an eyebrow.

(you’re silly, but not clueless. He knows you’re smarter than this. But then again, he doesn’t know if you know he’s yours just yet)

“ Y’know… like-“ impossibly, affectionately, you’re much redder than he’d ever seen you, now stumbling over your words, “like…darling?”

“Yes, dear~?” without missing a beat, he replied.

“You b-! Argh…”

(he could get used to this)

You nearly sat up, then immediately quiet down and seethe at him through your teeth. He laugh in returns and pat your cheek affectionately. “You ought to be more careful dearest~! At this rate, you’ll be here for-“

“Stop that!” your roar, something akin to a small kit, voice barely able to stay steady enough to comprehend. “You know what I’m trying to say! I don’t get it!”

He smiles, hand going back to messing with your hair. “I do not get what you’re trying to implied,” baring his teeth while you gritted yours, “sweetheart~”

(a rotting piece of meat, sitting next to a flowerbed, what a sight you two made)

It’s endearing how hard you try to act upset, with your smiles barely differentiate from a grimace and eyes that refused to look at him. “They’re pet name, Al.” he lift your chin towards him, kicking his feet in the air. “It’s personal, isn’t it? You don’t call anyone else that either…” you’re finally starting to gawk the distance between you and everyone else from his eyes. Better late than never, as his mother always told him.

“Correct! You’re such a charming little thing, trust me, but it’s honestly rather demoralizing waiting for you to pick up on it dear! I thought it would’ve taken much quicker, let alone it took until you climbed out of Hades gate to realized.”

“Pick up on what??”

“What do you think?”

"...That you...see me as a pet???"

(he hope you won’t pick up on the smell)

He knows you enough to know you will never let yourself say it out loud until he does. But Alastor is nothing but a patient man. Grin stretching across his face, he pecks your forehead and lifted himself off the bed as you can do nothing else but to loudly protested him. He sings to you as he open the door, “I’ll be seeing you in a bit mon chéri, so do feel free to rest a bit more. We shouldn’t keep the others hanging over this good news!”

“I swear to GOD I will kill you with my bare hands Alastor!”

“Ooh how exciting! I’ll be waiting for that day then. If you can get out of bed by the next month that is!”

Your yelling cut off the moment he’s gone from sight, you’re surely processing it all now. What an exciting thought.

Alastor would’ve rather you two have this conversation under any other scenario, but really, you don’t get to be too picky. He prance off as midday approached, planning on showing you the bones he kept in a box on top of his fireplace later on.

(he hope you’ll learn to live with the contorting shadow that’ll be walking along with you from now on. He might be a dead corpse dragging itself along, but as long as you would let him. You’ll be right by his side)

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 6/?

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

Some other happenings while Lucifer was in Heaven.

Reminder: Read story 1 first before starting this series! It adds some context and of course, I think it's a pretty neat prequel

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

The demons in the hotel have dispersed just after their King left for Heaven. Most kept themselves busy despite being worried because, really, what can they do except wait?

Charlie said goodbye to the Sins whom were going back to their respective rings. As much as she wants to have them at the hotel with her until her dad comes back, she understands that they can't leave the other rings unattended for too long.

Beelzebub: I really wish I could stay, baby girl. But I'm just call away, okay?

Satan: All of us are, Charlie. If you want, I can have Damien visit and wait with you?

Charlie: That's okay, uncle. I wouldn't want to bother him for something like sitting around and waiting.

Satan: If you're sure, your majesty.

Charlie: I- I'm not- I'm just acting Queen.

Asmodeus: Charlie, you are no less of a Queen as your mother was just because it's not permanent yet. As long as Lucifer is not here, you are our Queen.

Mammon: Heck yeah! By the way, do you want queen shit merch? I bet we would make a ton of money with your face in every tshirt or coffee mug!

Charlie: Haha. No thank you...

Mammon: Your loss! If ya ever change your mind though-

An elbow to his gut cuts Mammon off his never-ending, and in Charlie's honest opinion, poor sales pitch.

Mammon: Fuckin bitch! No woman is as brute as you-

Another hit sends Mammon writhing on the ground that made Charlie channel all her self-control not to laugh in his face.

Belphegor: Do shut up, Mammon. You are embarrassing yourself. If you have any questions regarding your duties, you can ask any of us. Except Mammon.

The Princess (acting Queen!) of Hell is so touched by the support of her aunts and uncles that she almost teared up. If not for Vaggie's eyes that never left her, she would've ugly cried already. She tries not to let her Uncle Mammon's pained shouts of 'f-f-uck you, Bel!' ruin the moment for her.

Leviathan: Call us when your father comes back.

Charlie: Of course! Thank you all again for being here.

Leviathan bends down to give Charlie a bow.

Leviathan: Of course, our Queen.

Giving one last goodbye hugs to each of them, Charlie doesn't notice Alastor with his ears pulled back. Husk does though.

Husk: Boss?

Alastor: Yes, dear Husker?

Husk: Ya alright?

When Alastor doesn't answer, he follows the deer demon's stare in the direction of Charlie and the Sins. Husk knows that meddling with anything Alastor will just get him scolded like all the other times he tried to express concern.

He'll never admit it but he did come to care for the psycho even just a little bit. Is it Stockholm Syndrome? He's not sure.

Regardless, if something was bothering Alastor then he and Nifty would get dragged into it eventually. So tries to reach out, even if his boss don't like it. Egotistical prick.

..

Husk felt a chill ran down his spine when he catches the Sin of Envy looking directly at their direction. More specifically, at Alastor.

'What the hell?'

He hears Alastor click his tongue then disappear to fuck knows where. And when he turned back to where the Sins were, it looks like they had left.

And so did the Sin of Envy.

Angel: Huskie! I need that drink ya always make me!

Husk only hopes that whatever that was doesn't bite any of them in the ass.

Husk: Yeah yeah, I got it.

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

Alastor went straight into his room but someone was already there, sitting in his little dining set up by the bayou.

The static he lets out would've scared any other demon but this one just looked at him in exasperation like he isn't the one trespassing in someone's private bedroom- in his territory!

Alastor: Ľ̷̹͚͚͔͓̥̭͂̃̓̉ë̸̻̳́a̶̱̦̻̱̼̔̚v̶̥̗̜̎̽̈́̂̋͆̊̔e̷̤̝̰̖̞̳̗͒̌͊͜͝!̶͍̯̠̃̔͆̈́

He summons black tentacles to attack the intruder but they stop just a hairs breath away. Alastor wills them, commands them, to strike but they don't move.

Leviathan: Using my own gift to attack me? Come on, Alastor, you know better than that.

Alastor bites his lips so hard, he bleeds.

Alastor: Y̷̥͐͑͝ó̸̗̇̾ṷ̴̧̟̺̀̅̕ ̴̧̡͕̈͜ṁ̷̱̰̞̰a̴̟̟͔͋̊͌ͅy̶̠͝ ̷̘̤̬̼͛̿̊̉ǒ̵̩̉̅w̴̩̍͑̕n̴̨̪͇̿̕ͅ ̸̧̤͈̀͋͠m̵̨͑ͅy̴̦̻͔̐͒͐̉ ̵͍̱̩̐s̷̯͂̄͂ò̴̖̺̩u̵͍̣̱̯̾̂͛l̶̻̭͖̾̾̊ ̸͖̱̍͝b̷͚̳͗̔̄͝u̸͖͊̒t̶̩͑̈́̊ ̸͖͋t̴̙̔͂h̷̬̻̫̮̓͗a̵̘̋͂̏͘ẗ̴͉̍̇ͅ�� ̸͍͒͑d̸͚̥̬̣̋̉̊o̸̭̖̯̳͌e̶̻̗͍͉̓̔͑s̴̨̥̙̈́͂ ̷̧̓n̴̢̘͓͉͂̆o̵̰͕͚͌ͅt̵͍̘̄́ ̵̧̪͔̋̓͂͐g̷̹̻̹͊̀í̵̧̨̝v̵̛̛͓̞̮̿̊ͅé̸͇͇̑͒ ̴̭̱̝̞̿ẏ̴̠͚̐̐o̵̧̓͑ų̴̻̾͆ ̶̻͍̲̃t̸͕̗͖͛̌͠h̷̩͈̗̀ẻ̷͇̈́͘͘ ̵̮̝͍͆͑̚ŗ̷͇̻̖̓̂i̵̱̦̻̩͋͛g̷̻͛̃͂͘h̶̛̼̤͙̘̒̏̕t̶͓͔̮̔̊͛͛ ̶͙̑t̵̼̣͚̐̒̅ͅǒ̴̾͘͠ͅ ̴̞̏̓̊͝d̸̡̈́͜ó̸̢͎͓̉ ̴̗̥̮̳̈́̆ằ̵̲̖̜͑̇ṩ̸̡̇͠ ̴̦̮͔͊̑̋͑y̶̤̳̹̔o̶̺̍͋u̸͎̎̅͒͘ ̶͓̫͖̪̎̓͐͝p̵̥͑̓̌͑͜l̵͓͔̻̇̑e̴̺̐͋̂̃a̴̫͇̭̥̔̔š̶̞̝ḛ̸̃̊͂͘.̷̥̰̮̆͑́͝

Leviathan merely rolls his eyes and barely even flinches from the ear-piercing sounds the radio demon is emmitting.

Leviathan: Relax. I'm not here to make you do anything. But I won't stand this disrepect.

Alastor: H̸̭͈͕̾̌ơ̸̮̖̫͉̐͒̏ẇ̷̛̱̙͌̕ͅ ̶̖͕̲͖̏͌̓d̵̛͉̭̈́́̊a̵̬͇͎̽̅̐r̷̪̣͗̐͑e̶͚̯̠͇̋̎̑͝ ̷͍̫͎̒y̵̹͆̀̅̐ô̷̡̭̣̥̎̍ú̷͔̂́ ̵̡̺̯̓t̷̞̾ą̷̮̻̔̈l̴͇̲̅͌̎͛ḱ̵̡̭̜ ̷͉͂͝ơ̶̞͓͕͗͋͜f̸̮̮̻̰̂͝ ̸̡̭̏͐͆͠d̷͇̟͙̖̈̊ī̷͚̩s̸͚̰̙̝̍̔̀r̵̰̐̉e̵̲̳̜̿͐s̷̯̳̦͈̏͐̚͘p̵̜̆e̴̡͖͕̅̈́c̷̼͓͒t̴͇́̈́ ̴̮̳̗͗͛w̷̨̟͙̳̍͒h̷̡̡̗̼̏͋̄e̷̗̓̈̽n̵͔̥͛ͅ ̶̤̉̋̆y̸̪̤̬͙̿͐͝ǫ̶͓̊͝u̷͚̭̳͎̔̓͑-̶̛̗̀̌̕

The aquatic demon snaps his fingers and suddenly, Alastor feels his power leave him. He has not felt tis weak since he was human.

Leviathan: I think I'm a pretty lenient master, Alastor. I gifted you a fraction of my power and let you kill your way up. I don't even meddle in your affairs and yet you still disrespect me? I asked of you one thing since the day you came crawling to me for power: protect the Morningstars. And frankly, right now you're not doing a good enough job.

Alastor: I do not know what you expected from a mere sinner. Plus, I don't seem to recall you doing much better on that front, your Sinfulness.

Leviathan had to let out a laugh. He could admit, the demon says some pretty hilarious things sometimes. It's even cuter when he know Alastor means it.

Leviathan: Ha! You really are a cocky demon. Talking to a Sin like that? Did your darling mother not teach you anything about respecting those who are clearly above you?

Alastor: Only those who deserve it. Like Lucifer.

Alastor still can't get any semblance of strength to pull himself off the ground. He really hates having these rare meet-ups with his master.

The embodiment of Envy stands and the next second, Alastor is being pulled up by his hair, making him look directly at the Sin. He had been averting his eyes for as soon as he felt a shift in the air but the sudden contact forces him come face-to-face with the real eldritch horror.

Leviathan: Let's get one thing straight, deer. I don't care about you, but somehow you made Lucifer do. And I would do anything for Lucifer and his happiness.

The radio demon can feel the tentacles caressing his face and he wants to recoil in disgust.

Leviathan: So, the moment I find out you're just using him for your personal gain, I won't hesitate to eat you over and over and over again. You'll never know a day without pain.

Despite the threat, he can't help the words that comes out of his mouth.

Alastor: But I am.

And if he dies today, he hopes Lucifer won't be too sad.

Leviathan: What did you just say?

Rosie always did say he had a mouth that can rival Susan. Honestly, Alastor has never felt so offended.

Alastor: Did you not hear me, master? I am using him for my personal gain. But not in the way one might think. I'm using him for my happiness and... I hope one day he will come to use me for his.

His answer must have been enough because he's suddenly let go and he can feel his powers flowing back into inside him.

'Right where they belong.'

He brushes himself off like nothing happened. Looking around, it appears that nothing was damaged after the Sin's power-play.

Leviathan: I expect you to report back to me regarding any happenings with the Morningstars and the hotel.

Opening a portal to a purple sky and raging waters, Leviathan gives Alastor one last warning.

Leviathan: Don't disappoint me.

Tsk. He really hates politics.

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

Sorry for the little Alastor dialogue! But!!! Leviathan??

Color me surprised.

I am not calling him Frederick even tho I know officially, he's called Frederick von eldritch.

You telling me that youre one of the most powerful demons in Hell and you name yourself Frederick??

[trensu]

When Husker shows up at his door, he squints at him suspiciously.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Husk asks.

Angel starts to lean flirtatiously into his space, a salacious come on right on the tip of his tongue. He catches himself halfway and quickly straightens himself with an awkward laugh.

"Just somethin' I found in the back of the closet," he lies through his teeth.

He had Cherri go shopping with him for a good outfit for his date. That had failed spectacularly. He had forgotten that Cherri's idea of fashion involved singed tops and torn bottoms. With extreme reluctance, he went to Vaggie for help. He figured she was such a prude that she'd find him an outfit easily. He would've gone to Charlie but Charlie wouldn't be able to curb her enthusiasm and would probably let slip what was happening which would ruin the surprise for Husk.

Vaggie pulled through and Angel didn't think he looked too bad in it. The way Husker looks at him now makes him think he may have overestimated his looks for once.

"Sure," Husk says flatly. "You ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course!" Angel stutters like a moron.

"Alright," Husker says after a beat.

Husk gives Angel another suspicious look, shoulders tense and wings pulled close. Something shifts in his expression that Angel couldn't read. He's afraid it might be disappointment, but then Husker shakes out his wings and offers Angel his arm which Angel accepts with relief.

"So, where ya takin' me, Huskie?"

Husker tells him about a little place with good food, better drinks, and a live jazz band. As they walk out of the hotel, Angel almost cozies up against Husk, so tempted to rub his cheek against Husker's silky ear. He catches himself again and over-corrects by pulling away from Husk until their linked arms are the only point of contact. Husk stumbles a bit with the weight shift. He opens his mouth to say something but appears to change his mind and snaps it shut.

That was okay, though, right? Husker wasn't much of a talker anyway! Angel filled the silence between them with nervous babble. Angel normally was a good talker but tonight he keeps having to stop and restart midsentence when his stories get un-classy. Husker grunts every now and then but it's clear he's only listening with half an ear. It doesn't help Angel's nerves at all.

The date goes downhill from there.

Angel is so focused on keeping himself in check he barely eats his food. He only takes one drink because he knows how he gets when he's drunk and he can't be getting too handsy with Husk. Husker doesn't speak very much so of course Angel overcompensates with his babbling. Husk had to hush him during the jazz show. It filled Angel with so much shame because he knew how much Husker liked jazz and here he was ruining the experience for him. Husk holds his hand through the rest of the show which helped a little.

But when they left the joint, Husker didn't offer his arm again. He didn't even walk very close to him. They're halfway back to the hotel when Husk clears his throat.

"You didn't have to say yes," Husk says, eyes averted.

"What?" Angel asks in confusion. Husk sighs, stopping in his tracks to look at Angel straight on.

"When I asked you out," Husker says, his tone going to his usual bored gruffness. A tone he hasn't used towards Angel in a long time. Angel felt his stomach drop as Husk continued. "You didn't have to say yes."

"What?" Angel asks again like some kind of idiot. He wonders if he sounds as shaky and pathetic as he feels.

Husker's voice goes flatter even as his tail lashes back and forth.

"You should’ve said no if you didn't want to...be with me. We woulda been fine."

"Huskie--"

And finally some of that soft, hidden sincerity crept back into Husker's voice.

"I'd still be your friend, Legs," Husker says, gazing into Angel's eyes. "I wouldn't abandon you over that."

"No! I-I--"

Husker looks away with a bitter grin. It hurt Angel so much to see it.

"I'd need a day to lick my wounds, but I knew it was a long shot anyway. I woulda come back," Husker shrugs when he finishes and continues walking back to the hotel.

Angel stood in place, floored by how badly he fucked up. He noticed his breathing going erratic and did his best to do the calming breathing thing Charlie taught them all. It sorta worked, enough to send him running to Husker again.

"Husker, wait!" he shouts.

He catches up quickly (he can't go too far too fast with those short legs, Angel thinks fondly). Dodging around Husker's wings that were quivering with tension, Angel grabs the crook of his arm to spin him around towards him.

"I did want! Husk, I wanted ta say yes, I wanted ta go on this date so bad," Angel says desperately, feeling a telltale burning around his eyes and hating himself for it.

Husker's temper breaks. His wings flair open and his tail whips side to side aggressively.

"Then why are you acting so fucking fake? With the clothes and you treating me like I got the fucking plague! I thought we were done with that bullshit," Husker said furiously.

"Cuz I wanted ta...I wanted ta be good for ya, Husk," Angel chokes out, shoulders slumped in defeat. "You like classy. I wanted ta be a good, classy sorta guy for ya. I-I fucked up. I always fuck this shit up. I don't mean ta do it."

Angel stares at the crumbling sidewalk, blinking back tears. Husker doesn't say anything for a long time. Angel is about to turn tail when Husker speaks again.

"You fucking dumbass," he says with that warm fondness that had been missing all night. Angel's head snaps up at his words. That cocky little smirk Angel first saw after Husk had pulled him out of self-destruction at the club has replaced the angry slant of Husk's mouth.

"Hey!" Angel protests with a cautious smile. Husk rolls his eyes.

"Don't expect compliments if you're gonna act stupid," Husk says and offers his arm to Angel. "You're already classy enough for me, Legs."

Angel takes his arm and looks down at him slyly.

"But not good, huh?" Angel tries to tease but Husker doesn't take it.

Instead, Husk looks at him intensely and says firmly, "If this redemption shit the princess keeps talking about ain't total bullshit then, out of all of us, you'd be the one to make it, Angel."

"Oh," Angel says, stunned, then adds to cover how it made his heart beat hard, "Husker, ya big ol' flirt. I betcha say that ta all the pretty boys."

"Fuck you," Husk says with a smile. Angel bats his eyes and lets his voice go all breathy.

"Oh, yes! Please, daddy," Angel simpers. He adds a loud moan for good measure. Husker throws his head back with a rough, loud laugh Angel's never heard before. He knows immediately he wants to hear it again forever.

By the time Husk drops Angel off at the door of his room, the pair of them have relaxed significantly. Angel opens the door slightly to peek in on Fat Nuggets. After he makes sure his Nugs is sleeping, Angel catches Husk's sleeve before he could make a sneaky escape.

"Hey, Husk? Could we get a do-over? A new first date so I can do it right?" Angel asks shyly. The corner of Husk's mouth quirks up.

"Depends. You gonna wear that stupid outfit again?"

"Oh baby," Angel says, plastering himself against the door frame in one of his sexiest poses. "I'm gonna wear my sluttiest dress just for my handsome kitty. Everyone's gonna wish they were you when they see us togetha."

Husk snorts.

"When you put it like that..."

"You can put it wherever ya want, daddy," Angel flirts. He's only half-joking. Husker rolls his eyes in good humor.

"A do-over sounds good."

Angel drops the pose instantly, beaming at Husk.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Angel melts at the small smile that accompanies Husk's assurance.

"Next week?"

Husker nods in agreement.

"Great!" Angel said, probably a little too enthusiastically.

Before Angel could lose his nerve, he dips down and presses a meek kiss on Husker's cheek. When he pulls back, Husker's eyes are as wide as saucers and his wings are flared and puffed up in a way Angel hadn't seen before. If Angel didn't know any better, he'd say Husker was downright flustered. And oh god, Angel wanted to make him blush all over, he'd be so cute in bed.

" 'night, Huskie!" Angel said quickly and slammed the door closed behind him.

After nearly tearing himself out of the uncomfortable clothes, Angel crawled into bed wearing only his boxer briefs. Next time, he thinks to himself in joy and disbelief. I get a next time.

He knows it will be perfect because next time he'll be himself. Angel. Because that's all Husker wanted. Just Angel.

He curls up around Fat Nuggets and allows himself one small, quiet, happy squeal.

tfw your crush isn't moved by your usual means of wooing and seduction so you overcorrect and think becoming the Classiest Bitch will work better

(edit: this is mostly just for sillies, I don't think he'd actually do this)

[ddarker-dreams]

*2.2 event quest spoilers* Idk if u meant it like this but i love how in ur new scara piece everything is so scary and serious and then at the end its just like “love him lots hed be over the moon” like his desires are just so simple yet everything is so screwed bc his pride and past experiences make him behave a certain way idk how to explain it but ur writing is so good like if actual scaramouche ends up being any different than your characterization of him I will just ignore it

as i've started scooping up scraps of scaramouche lore that mihoyo scattered like a chicken feeding on seeds i've come to the same conclusion . i had thought about collecting all the snippets of scara lore and slapping them in one place to post here, perhaps i'll get to that over the weekend? anyway, onto my thoughts ...

scaramouche bitterness is an integral part of him. there have likely been opportunities for him to move on from the past, but why would he do that, when he could simmer in his rage and think about all that could've been. he was abandoned. left to rot, abandoned by a god, who is worshipped across the globe in reverence. the fatui would've abandoned him to if not for a single factor: his strength. it's strength that gets you somewhere in this world then, would be his conclusion. so he'll become strong. strong enough where he'll imprint himself into the memories of others, never again will he be forgotten, a facet of history left to gather dust.

you can't leave him because he won't give you the chance. you can try, in fact, he's certain that you'll try, it's this anticipation that keeps you locked under such strict scrutiny. he knows the tells. the guilty avoidance of eye contact, the attempts to justify yourself, apologies that aren't backed by action. he knows it well because he's been through it before. once is more than enough to shatter a person's sense of self. he had to pick up the pieces, each shard making his hands bleed more than the last, placing them together in a crude image of what he wants to be. someone worthy of acknowledgement.

if you were ever to learn about his past, you'd almost find him pathetic enough to pity. almost. here is this husk, this puppet, forcing himself into your life like a parasite and never taking no for an answer. you don't know whether to laugh or cry about it. scaramouche safeguards his past for this very reason, only revealing snippets over time in rare moments of vulnerability. where his sense of judgment is impaired just enough to show what he'd come to regret later.

it doesn't matter if you think little of him. when he's your entire world, then is that not enough?

[halfbloodsnowy]

Chapter 13: Freedom and Betrayal

More on: Archive of Our Own

9:29 DRAGON - The Circle Tower in Ferelden

Kena felt jittery, her brain still buzzing after the Harrowing. She stared at the floor on her way to speak to Irving, the mottled green of the carpet's fibers forming strange patterns that helped calm her mind.

She was thinking about Jowan, what he had said about his Harrowing being continuously postponed made her worry, especially now that she had been put through it before him. It didn't make sense why they were waiting so long. Jowan was a damn good mage, stronger than the other apprentices their age. Why weren't they testing him? She was afraid Jowan was right, and that Irving really was going to force him through the rite of tranquility.

The thought sickened her.

Jowan had seemed so afraid at the thought of tranquility, and who wouldn't? To lose everything about yourself, your emotions, your personality, some of the apprentices thought it was worse than death.

Her heart broke for him, and though Kena knew she was being utterly selfish, the thing that petrified her most was losing his friendship.

She didn't think she could bear seeing the emotionless husk of Jowan daily, knowing he'd never laugh again, never tell her one of his stupid jokes or hug her when she was down. Kena took a deep breath, she was starting to panic. Panicking wouldn't help Jowan.

The sudden clink of armor startled her, and she stopped in her tracks.

"K-Kena!" Cullen called, standing awkwardly to her right, by the wall.

Why is he just waiting here? How strange.

"I… um, how are you?" he added dumbly, his arms dropping to his sides like a chastised school boy.

"I'm good, is there something you needed Cullen?" asked Kena, and she looked around to make sure no one was watching. She just awoke to another rumor being repeated about Cullen's supposed infatuation with her, and she didn't want to fuel more. 

"Wh-what?" he seemed confused, before shaking his head and awkwardly rubbing the side of his temple and laughing nervously. "Oh, um, right. No, no nothing, I'm just… uh, glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly," he stuttered.

"Oh," said Kena, faking cheer, "thank you!"

"Th-they picked me, as the templar to strike the killing blow if… if you became an abomination," he was speaking quickly, as if he had to get it off his chest before it crushed him. "It's nothing personal, I swear!" 

They what?!

"Oh," Kena's heart was racing, she was scared. She'd already made it through, but knowing he would have killed her was a dizzying revelation.

Everyone knew that the mages who didn't pass their Harrowing quietly disappeared, and yes, some of the others theorized death, but she hadn't realized they were killed in the very Circle Tower she called home.

Her blood ran cold remembering the few apprentices who were just suddenly gone, and now she knew, killed by the templars that claimed to be protecting them.

Templars like Cullen.

It was so heartless that it frightened her. She also felt very dumb saying "oh" over and over, but she wasn't exactly sure what else to say. He was a templar, it was his duty to kill abominations, and the Harrowing had turned out to be a test to see if she'd become one.

No wonder it was so secret.

"I… uh, I'm just glad you're all right. You know," Cullen continued.

But she was too distracted by her racing thoughts to hear the relief in his voice, "I… you'd have really killed me?" she blurted out.

That was the dumbest thing to ask! Maker, why am I like this?

"I would've felt terrible about it…" he said.

She wasn't even sure why she asked, and she regretted it. The idea that the templars had been watching them, everyday, knowing that they'd be tasked with killing them at any moment. How could Cullen confess to such a thing? She'd be ashamed to admit it, even if it was necessary. It just seemed so pointless to say out loud.

Why did he have to say anything at all?

She felt sick, and nervous, and so much worse than before. What if she had failed? She'd be dead and gone, and no one would know where. Struck down by the templar she thought most understood their plight.

A templar everyone said cared about her in a way he really shouldn't. And perhaps it was because she'd started to think of him in the same way that she found his revelation all the more upsetting. Her skin prickled, and she grabbed her own arm for comfort.

"--but… I serve the chantry, and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded," he continued, and he seemed to be pleading with her to understand, but his voice sounded muffled, like she was listening to him from under water.

She forced a smile, but something had shifted in her view of the Circle. Of him, and she wasn't happy.

"Well, thank you, I shouldn't distract you from your duties--" she started, desperate to get away.

"Oh, you're not distracting!" he blurted out, "I mean, you are, but…well you're not…" he pinched his brow, his face a shade of red she'd never seen before, and he seemed very frustrated with himself, "I mean, you can talk to me anytime if you want."

Kena's urge to flee the uncomfortable conversation was unbearable, and she was blushing furiously. Could she please stop? She hated how easily her emotions bled out onto her skin. On full display for the world to see.

For him to see.

He seemed so desperate to keep talking, but it was clear their conversation had come to its end, "Uh… uh, yes. Maybe we can talk another time."

"I, of course, thank you Cullen," she mumbled, "good day."

"Good day, Amell," he said after her, but she was already hastening away.

She suddenly hated very much how he said her name.

9:36 - DRAGON - Aeonar

Her whole body ached like she'd been beaten by a battalion of templars and her head was pounding.

For a moment, Kena thought she was back at Kinloch Hold. What strange memories and dreams she'd been having! Like watching the most mundane parts of her life play out all over again.

A fierce gust of wind jolted her awake, and she was suddenly very aware of how freezing cold the stone floor was beneath her. So she sat up, and just barely glimpsed a blur of light hastening out of the front door.

The sound of impossibly loud thumps punching through the air reverberated into her bones. There was a roar, and it looked like a high dragon soaring into the sky.

The sky? The sky!

The beautiful, cloudy gray expanse just outside of Aeonar's door seemed to reach for her, pull her forward.

And a dragon?

Her eyes were like saucers, and she felt her heart battering against her ribcage. She couldn't fathom how much strength it must've taken for the creature to move so quickly.

"A dragon?" she whispered aloud. It was all she could truly understand in the moment, and then she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

It was the elf, the one from the night before, and her memories began to return. He seemed different now. Less strange.

She laughed.

"I hope this is real," she muttered aloud again, feeling very stupid, but her mind was quickly catching up and she felt blood flowing into her limbs again.

"I hope so too," he murmured in response, and she realized that she very much enjoyed the sound of his voice. It was so different from the gruff templars, and from Lily, and from herself.

She decided at that moment that she quite enjoyed different . She wanted to forget everything that had happened, and being around the same old, same old wouldn't help with that.

"Lily!" Jowan screamed, popping up like a puppet.

The familiarity of his voice forced a sick feeling into her belly, he reminded her too much of the Circle, of better days that only served to remind her how awful her present was.

"Maker's mercy!" Lily groaned, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, "I've never… was that the fade…"

Amell watched, quietly, as Jowan turned to Lily and began to sob, "You're ok!"

Lily's eyes welled up and she covered her mouth, "Jowan…"

Jowan reached out to her, placing a hand on her face, and when she didn't pull away, he wrapped her in his arms, "Maker I'm so sorry, I'm sorry Lily… forgive me…"

"Jowan," Lily cried again, and buried her face into his shoulder. They held each other, sobbing uncontrollably, and Amell felt awkward. As if she was watching something very private.

She looked away.

"This is real," she whispered to the elf, and she tasted bile, "Jowan always sounded like a trapped mouse when he cried, the demons could never quite get that right."

"Are you alrig--" the elf began, but she suddenly felt her toes again, and she jumped to her feet.

Outside, I must get outside…

It was an instinct, an urge so great she couldn't control it. It felt like she was watching herself from far away. She was pretty sure she shoved the elf out of the way as she bolted for the outside, slamming her arm against the wicket gate in her haste, and skidding to a stop on the rough ground.

She looked up, shielding her eyes from the blinding, sunless sky.

_____

It was gray, filled with clouds, but it was beautiful. Bright, so much brighter than she could remember any sky and she screamed in animalistic glee at the pain in her eyes. The pain was real, so it felt good, and she tried to keep them open.

"YES!" she screamed, kicking and punching into the open air in excitement. She knew full well she probably looked very stupid, but she didn't care.

She was free.

Free, I'm fucking free!

The cold air bit at her skin, the breeze so fresh she felt her lungs purging the filth of Aeonar with every exhale. She laughed, uncontrollably, wildly. She was brimming with energy, and she suddenly found herself rolling amongst the wildflowers, scraping her skin against the rocks and hungrily inhaling the musty stench of mud.

"Are you alright?!" called the elf.

Was he talking to her? She didn't care either way. The ecstasy of freedom was fueling her delirium. She was literally crackling with so much energy she couldn't contain it. The grass around her singed at the whips of electricity snapping off her.

This has to be real!

Kena rolled onto her back in the tallest grass, breathing hard, and the magic quieted, dissipating into static in the air.

Freedom, real, undeniable freedom. She closed her eyes, enjoying the winter air, and the gentle breeze caressing her skin. The goosebumps on her arms pinched painfully. Her body was terrified and in love with the vast openness of the world.

She wanted to fall into the sky.

There was a crunching near her head, and she opened her eyes to see the elf man staring down at her. He had a small, kind smile on his face, though just enough of the wolfishness remained to give her pause.

She felt her cheeks turning pink, he was handsome, so painfully handsome and strange. Was this really something she wanted to waste her time thinking about fresh out of prison?

Already back to being naive and stupid eh?

He offered a hand, and Kena reminded herself not to trust someone just because they seemed kind and handsome. She'd already suffered enough for that brand of stupidity.

So she steeled herself, and rose to her feet on her own, "I'm fine, thank you," she said, colder than she intended.

"Of course," he said, and awkwardly withdrew his hand. He leaned his weight against his staff, drawing in and releasing a long and exhausted breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked again, "What happened last night… it was rough."

His voice was deep, but he sounded nervous, and the way he was looking at her… he seemed like he was studying her for something. He looked at her the way the enchanters looked at the stupid puzzles they obsessed over in the Circle.

What did he really want? 

"Kena Amell?" he said, and she realized she had gone and disappeared into her own mind again.

"What? Oh, yes, yes," she closed her eyes and basked in a fleeting ray of sun for a moment, before the clouds sealed it away once more. "I'm fine, and thank you, for…" she shuddered, opening her eyes to meet his, "saving me from the demon."

She figured he deserved that much, but she didn't feel ready to think deeply about what had happened in the nightmare. As far as she was concerned, it was the past and she was ready to forget it ever happened.

"I didn't," said Galel, and she was confused.

"But… then who?" she suddenly had a memory of a strange laugh, and an old woman's voice. But it was hazy, far away.

Galel raised an eyebrow, "You can't remember?"

Her brain was starting to hurt, and she just wanted to roll in the grass again, "No, I…" she bit her lip, unwilling to waste energy on speculation, "I don't, not really."

He forced a tired smile, "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. We're alive, and I'm glad you made it."

Kena smiled awkwardly at him, his eyes were iridescent, deep brown and unlike any she'd ever seen before. 

Why are you like this Kena?!

But despite her supreme disappointment in herself for once again falling into the pits of fantasy, she found that staring into the unknown was comforting. Perhaps it meant change, something different than the nightmare she'd been thrust into.

"I'm glad you made it too," she mumbled, before looking over her shoulder at the Aeonar's quiet entrance. "Do you think they'll get done hugging anytime soon?

He followed her gaze, and chuckled.

"Let's hope so."

____________________

He felt nervous around her. Why was he nervous? There was an energy that buzzed off of her skin that seeped under his own in a way he had never felt from another mage before.

The feeling unsettled him.

"I should go check on them," said Galel, looking into the Aeonar's front doors. They had been magicked shut, but now lay comically open. Their magic lock stood no chance against the power in his blood.

He felt the sting of the cut on his hand, and tucked it under his cloak. He wasn't sure how Kena would feel about his use of blood magic, and he thought it better not to agitate her right now.

"What happened to the templars? And the abominations? You'd think they'd have torn us all apart as we slept…" she said, her voice was crackly, weak, but her spirit was strong. He could feel it, shaking the veil around him.

She was right of course, and Galel suddenly realized that it was strange no templar had woken yet, or come after them. What had happened to the rest of the prison's inhabitants?

But his speculation was cut short at the appearance of Jowan and Lily.

He heard Amell suck in a breath.

Jowan met Kena's gaze, and his face erupted into a smile.

"Kena!" he called, running over to her. But she stepped back at his approach, and Galel could now clearly see the hatred in her eyes.

Betrayal is the dagger that cuts deepest…

Jowan slowed to a stop a few feet from her, and his smile drooped, "I'm sorry, I--"

"Let's get out of here," Amell snapped, turning her back on Jowan and hobbling down Aeonar's stone path.

Galel could sense Jowan's pain at the rejection, his friend's Adam's apple shook in his skin and he seemed on the verge of tears.

Lily and Galel exchanged concerned glances, and Jowan stared forlornly after Kena.

"Jowan?" Lily murmured, and he inhaled, quickly forcing a smile at her and blinking away the red in his eyes. He then faced Galel, and the two friends exchanged awkward looks.

"I'm glad you got out of there," said Jowan, but his voice betrayed his pain.

Galel patted him on the back. He felt for his friend, he knew how hard and how desperately he had wanted to save them. So he could only imagine Jowan's pain at the rejection from Amell. The woman he claimed was like a sister to him.

But Galel knew that intentions only mattered to gods. Not to the mortals who suffered.

"We should follow her, she's too weak to be on her own," said Lily, uncertainty in her voice.

Jowan signaled his agreement, and they all quietly followed Amell.

[trubluace]

UPDATE, MAIN CHARACTERS HAVE BEEN GIVEN HEADSHOTS + PROLOGUE IS IN THE WORKS

Left to right, up to down: Pumpkin'Wing, Finch'Tail, Dusk'Feather, Winter'Song

Stars shone dimly in the muted indigo sky, the deep hues breaching the orange below as the day parted for the night. A few flickering lights blinked in the shadowed city, an echo of the life that once occupied the large expanse below. Once, even in this deep hour, sound bounced from street to street, beings with an intellect beyond what was thought possible by the new inhabitants paced along streams of what once was during the day. Now, all that remains of that time is merely a husk of what once was, all repurposed to make way for a new generation.

Wanderer wondered what caused all of this to disappear, for the being that once inhabited the space to vanish with not a trace. He didn't know what could have once created these gorgeous sights just for it all to become mere ruins for the factions below to explore. From the ashes of the broad expanse beyond blossomed new life.

His ear flicked as he glanced over his shoulder. A skinny, short-furred brown cat made their way over to him on the edge of the high tower, unusually bright green eyes locked onto him.

"Quite the view out here, is it not?" They said, a good tail length worth of distance between them. He peered at his company with suspicion but said nothing of it.

"It sure is. What keeps you up tonight? Snoring too loud? Your nest was stolen by someone else?" He teased. Wanderer couldn't recognize the cat at a glance, but they were surely from within the Watcher's Pact. No random outsider could get in so simply without a generous amount of wounds.

"You sure are one to talk. Just felt like looking out from up here." They responded, which didn't give him much help. He would've scooted away from them if it wouldn't have been so obvious. Whoever this cat was, they were making him deeply uncomfortable for reasons he didn't quite understand why. "I remember my mother would take me up here to look out here from the barrier below us. She'd fear she'd lose me!" They laughed, the sound hearty but almost... artificial.

Still, he didn't want to kill the mood any bit, so he decided to simply play along. "Ah, my mum would always tug at me when I was younger, she'd always be hovering over me as if I'd be snatched up by a magic indoor owl the second I was out of sight! It took forever for my father to convince her to let me off so I can start learning to hunt. I miss those carefree days sometimes, but I do wish I could've been left to my own devices." He sighed. To the mysterious cat's credit, they did seem to chuckle at his reminiscing.

"Don't we all yearn for those times, do we not? Alas, the present is where we stay, always shifting and moving onto the next stage of what we call the present." They flashed him a small smile. "By the by, what would your name be? The pact is far too large for me to learn everyone's name."

Those eyes just stared at him, watching him expectantly. They didn't seem to be too threatening, just a bit unnerving. That's all.

"It'd be Wanderer, and-"

"Oh, what a gorgeous name!" They chirped unexpectedly, not letting him finish. "Say, do you know Bouquet? I feel like she's mentioned you."

Wanderer looked at them with unease. They're just unnerving, he reminded himself as he responded.

"I do, seeing as she's my mate. She's expecting currently, they're due to be born soon, possibly tomorrow." He confirmed, the stranger leaving his gaze as he turned to look at the forgotten ruins beyond. "We don't know what we're going to name them, but she offered Spray and Dice as ideas. I'm personally going to wait until I think of anything, but it'll be not too long before we have to think of something." Wanderer went onto a tangent as he continued talking about his partner, describing how they met and the trials the two of them went through.

"...but that's enough about me," he finished as he looked back to where his audience was, "what is with you?"

His audience wasn't there.

He had barely the time the register that before he felt a strong shove from the back, losing his balance and falling off the barrier. He caught onto a ledge beyond the edge, where it'd be impossible to climb back up. His eyes looked out in absolute despair as he realized perhaps there wasn't much hope for him.

"I'll- I'll get help!" Was the last thing he heard from above before his grip was lost, the shiny and overly polished stone slipping under him. He let out a loud yowl, and as he plummeted to the ground far- oh so far below, he saw a shape jut out from the top desperately reach out for him.

His heart sank as he registered it. He let in one final breath as his final thought coursed through.

Oh my dear partner, please be safe without me right beside you.

He just barely felt the impact, landing head-first.

He was not alone on that pavement, pale amber eyes watching his broken form.

----

Cardinal'Sight felt something ripple throughout the whole territory of Starclan, a bead of anxiety forming in him. Lately, so many cats had been dying, though none of them had common threads in their stories. So many paths and none of them lead to the answers they needed!

Every tip of Starclan was able to feel when someone died recently, far too apparent to be able to be brushed off as someone simply meeting their time. He didn't understand what was happening, neither did anyone else. He felt so damn useless right now, and he knew the others understood that feeling. He wished he knew what was happening, it just-

He hissed, tail lashing. He knew the faction he had domain over would grow worried with his rapidly increasing frustration manifesting physically for them, but what was he supposed to do? Everyone was affected by it! The factions, the pact, random loners who got by the walls. He was in a position of authority, and his charges needed his guidance the most now.

The was irony in there, he thought, looking up at the stars that seemed so close from here. He was the tip of navigation, and yet he couldn't find their way through.

Slight overview of a WC fan series that may devolve into info chaos; continue if you desire

Whistle in the Dark is a silly little story focused on four factions (clans but different names) of cats who are so god awful at communication that they barely know each other's existence outside of the other faction's leader and maybe healers. Your four flavors of protagonist go as follows:

Haunted Victorian child that everyone is concerned about, Winter'Song of the Clover Ring

Firecracker with a constantly lit fuse, Pumpkin'Wing of the Abyss Coven

Self proclaimed hottest man on the predominantly she-cat block, Finch'Tail of the Comet Fold

Signature lone wolf that only shows their true feelings around- oh they're not that close? Oh okay they're just the lone wolf-, Dusk'Feather of the Forest Band

No. No you don't have any more options; this is your menu.

Quick crash course of the factions: [Insert faction here (Insert Camp location here)]

Clover Ring (Mall)- Almost traditional clan but with under studies and a Hot Topic

Abyss Coven (Subway station)- Semi Monarchy, leader selects deputy but their child leads the clan if they die or step down. What happens if the leader dies and there's no heir? Panic.

Comet Fold (Spread out)- Prone to traveling and are the closest to a group called Watcher's Pact. Sectors of them lead their own group with a single cat being a representative during meetings.

Forest Band (City park)- Outside of the leader and deputy who deal with ceremonies and stuff there's no real influence from those ranks. They run with the belief that if left alone they can handle themselves as long as nothing atrocious occurs.

General changes-

Remember when it was essentially unheard of for regular warriors to receive messages from Starclan? Yeah that's coming back

Medicine cats can have kits and mates

Forbidden love isn't an issue since there is no rivalry and competition between the factions since they have enough space as is- also they just generally are oblivious to each other

Only leaders meet during gatherings at the center of the city and from time to time the healers come along

The Warrior Code is in there in spirit, most of them is just in their morals.

[specterepsilon]

mercy

/mərsē/

definition: to show forgiveness in someone who has done much harm

-

Seraph looked down at the now broken Prince of the Reef. Coming to his senses, he looks up at the Titan. All he instead sees is Aethelreda, the woman who rose to the top in her ranks as a General in the Royal Army. Aethelreda: the retainer for the Queen, his beloved sister.

Flames and Light flared on her Mark of the Traveler and her eyes. They danced about until she closed her eyes. Then, the color in her eyes returned to their orange hue. Her Mark stopped glowing. The fire has gone out in her.

"Oh, Aethelreda, giving up now?" Uldren spat out. He looked at her with a grin full of malice. Cayde's gun felt heavier now in her hands. Petra went and sided near Seraph, holding her Vestian Dynasty at Uldren.

"Where's my sister?" he asks frustrated.

"She's not here, Uldren. And if she was, this would be a whole lot easier," Petra states. Her gun is still pointed at the Prince.

He chuckled darkly. "Well, this is to be a reckoning. Aethelreda, remember when we had a similar scenario when you were training me? Just practicing with you...good times, right?"

Seraph's finger trembles on the trigger of the Ace of Spades. She bites her lips to hold back a cry. Before she touches the trigger, her Ghost Kore speaks up.

"W-Wait, not like this," Kore mutters to her Guardian. "Look at him, he's finished. Even with everything that Uldren has done, we can't just---"

Petra interrupts the Ghost before stepping forward and says what she wants to say with furrowed, angry eyes.

"You absolutely have no idea what he's done! If only Cayde were alive, he would know. Do you, Seraph?" Petra thunders, her voice echoing, before quietly and with calm anger asking her the Titan. Seraph looks back the Acting Regent-in-Command, seeing Sebastian, Rika, and Mikael starting to leave.

As if speaking for the Maiden, Uldren speaks up. "Yes; what would've the notorious Cayde-6 have done?"

He sits up slightly on the floor. "You have his gun, Aethelreda. Seems you get to have the last word." He props his elbow onto the ground and grunts as he continues.

"Everything I did, I did for her!" He lies back a bit before laughing briefly. "Funny. The line between light and dark is so very thin. What is even more funnier is that there is a Maiden of Light and a Knight of Darkness here; to have the balance of our world in the same room. Which one is the good one?"

Sebastian stops in his tracks and looks back at the trio. Uldren maliciously grinned at the human Titan he had surprised. In return, he walks over to them and draws out his Taken sword. The tip floated near the Prince's throat. Rika almost dashed forward if it weren’t for Mikael holding her back.

"You do not know anything. Don't believe that damned Ahamkara. Talk about us like that again or I will drain all life from you, " Sebastian quietly threatens. Dark energy started to pulsate from his arm. Void and Dark energy formed an aura around Sebastian.

This time Uldren laughs maniacally before his tone turned serious. "How hilarious! Would a question perhaps satisfy your thirst to kill me?"

The Maiden stood still before being asked by Uldren the questiom she dreaded to hesr from anybody. "Do you know which side you're on?"

Seraph puts down her gun for a brief moment. She had to contemplate. Was it worth breaking the promise to Mara about protecting the royal family? Somewhere deep inside her soul, Seraph felt as if Mara were alive. Somewhere far beyond the reaches of their universe and into the Ascendant Plane.

Seraph questioned herself. Is she really good? She asks herself if her morale system was set right. To kill without reason was a sin to her but to be questioned whether or not she did it for the greater good or for the bad always got to her.

Petra looked at her as Seraph dropped the gun. It dematerialized into thin air as Kore stored it away. "What are you doing Seraph? Do you have any idea what you are doing?!"

Seraph straightens up. Her balled fists let loose, falling to her sides. "Yes. I know what I'm doing. To be quiet honest I'm not sure what side I am on."

She kneels down to the Prince as if he were a child. In his eyes' reflection Seraph saw her former self. Aethelreda, a promising hero to the Reef and Their people.

"But what I know is that I serve to protect not only Mara and you but for everyone I care about and hold dear. I live by my own will. Not even the Traveler can control me." Seraph's hand dances with Light. She closes her eyes once more and her whites and orbs of them are replaced by pure Light.

"Petra, stand down," Seraph commanded without looking at anyone. Immediately Petra did in compliance. Seraph stood up and touched Sebastian's arm. The aura disappears from it and he stands back, knowing what she is about to do.

Seraph kneels once more at the Prince who stares at her with confused eyes. She pressed her index and middle finger to his forehead. Light begins to enter his system The dark, corrupted energy that surged through his body disappears. This knocks the Prince out into a deep sleep.

Petra looks at her in amazement. "How...?"

Seraph shook her head, wiping away tears that were cleaned off so quickly. The Light in her eyes and Mark disappear once more. She stands up and begins walking out with Sebastian following behind her. She orders Rika and Mikael to help Petra take the comatose Uldren out.

Petra holsters her side arm and calls out to Seraph in her original name. "Aethelreda, why did you not do it? Why did you not kill him?"

Seraph stops at the exit to answer the expectant Petra, her voice getting louder at each reason. "It's because I made a promise to Mara. It's because Uldren was not Uldren; more like a puppet to Riven. It's because maybe there is someone, somewhere out there that cares and loves this fool!" Her eyes turn somber as she turns around. Petra, Rika, and Mikael saw tears fall from the Titan's face. The Sunbreaker's voice becomes husk and throaty.

"It's because I've learned how to forgive."

-

Fin.

[fraugwinska]

Since your the queen of fluff, I had to make this request.

It’s more an angst/comfort/fluff, but I want to see Alastor dealing with his girlfriend/lover having body dysmorphia. The comfort in O Mother Mine for him was beautifully portrayed and I want Alastor to provide comfort back. Cant wait to see what you write🩷💖❤️

This was - and still is - an ask that hit very much home for me. Struggling with my self image and a long, very taxing time living with an ED since my teens, I had to take my time writing this - Because with all this history weighing in my own back pocket, I wanted to write something my younger self would've found comfort in reading. Which is why there's a lot of my own experiences woven in. Thank you for this ask, my dear. And to all who fight the fight against their own head each day - I see you. And you are worthy of every bit and piece of love, external and internal. I let our dear deer take it from here.

TW: Explicit depictions & mentions of ED and body dysmorphia - 3k words

“Why don't you want one? Do they look bad? Don't you like my chocolate chip cookies?”

Niffty stared at you, her one big eye glazed and watery, and you felt that at her whining remark all eyes were on you. Shit.

You had been at Charlie's group therapy activities for hours by now, everyone was exhausted and hangry enough for Vaggie to intervene and propose a lunch break. You managed to discreetly dodge every dish that was going around the table, making sure to have an alibi piece of bread and a few leaves of salad on your plate, just in case anyone would look at you funny, and it was good that you did. You glanced around the table to find Alastor of all people staring at you from the other side, and pretending obliviousness you turned to Angel with a smile, laughing at whatever he said, and shoved a few bits of salad into your mouth. ‘See, I'm eating, all good.’ 

You thought the worst was over when the others pushed their dishes into the middle of the table with content sighs and filled bellies. But then Niffty had been hopping around, offering everyone the masses of cookies she had been baking with Pentious the evening before, and Niffty was just not dodgeable. 

“Aw Niff, of course I do, and they look amazing! But I'm so full, stuffed, I really can't take another bite.” Perhaps you imagined it, but you thought you heard a static crack of feedback and you shot a quick glance over to Alastor, but he was drinking his After-Lunch coffee with closed eyes, detached and apparently trying to drown out the babbling sinners around him. Irritated, you turned to the little, pouting cyclops girl again, your voice purposely louder as you said “Tell you what, I'll take one now and save it for later, okay? I can't pass up on your delicious treats, can I?”

That seemed to do the trick, and when you wrapped the cookie you took from a beaming Niffty into a napkin and slid it in your pocket, she and everyone else seemed satisfied and they turned their attention elsewhere - At least you hoped they were.

Another few long, dragging hours later Charlie finally released you all, and the communal groan of relief was only overlapped by the pitter-patter of multiple pairs of feet rushing behind Husk to the bar in desperate need for a strong drink. You were contemplating to join them, even if it was just for a glass of water, but that thought was instantly buried when Angel called over to you.

“Oy, toots, come on and drag ‘ya fat ass over here, I need ‘ya to tell sourpuss here to let me pluck his overgrown eyebrows. Bitch is starting to look like Frieda Kahlo.”

It was an innocent, friendly-meant remark. You knew that. Angel was your friend, you knew that. The laughter that followed his call was a reaction to his crassness. You knew that. But your already aching stomach twisted, and it took everything in you to keep your face from crumbling, and the smile on your lips felt fragile when you answered.

“No can do, Ange, I’m heading to my room. I feel a headache coming up. See you guys later.”

You hurried out the hall as fast as you allowed yourself without looking like you’re fleeing, passing Charlie in vivid conversation with Alastor, throwing her a dismissive wave of the hand when she broke off in the middle of her sentence to ask if you needed anything and ignored the red eyes that were burning your back as you speeded to the lift.

For a moment you felt safe inside the elevator, closing your eyes and leaning back against the wall to deeply breathe in and out to calm your racing thoughts when the doors closed. But then you opened them again, your reflection was staring back at you from the mirrored wide wall of the lift cabin. You stared blankly at the hated body in front of you, eyes mapping every curve that was too wide, every point your clothes wrinkled over a roll of fat. 

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here…Fat ass..Fat...

You ran out of the cabin the moment the 'ding' announced your arrival at your floor and the doors opened, vision blurry from the pooling tears. As soon as you slammed the door to your room shut and turned the key in the lock behind you, you sobbed, leaning your head on the hard wood of your bedroom door. Tears were streaking your face as you sank down to sit on the floor and wrapped your arms around yourself, shoulders shaking from suppressed and failed attempts to cry silently. The room was silent, but your head was loud. Too loud.

Honey, you can't go to school like that, you look like a stuffed sausage. Go back and change…

No, pumpkin, the hamburger is for daddy. You’ll eat a salad, like mommy. Don’t you want to be as beautiful as mommy…

A Bikini? Wow, someone's feeling brave today...

You'd look so beautiful babe, if you'd only lose a few pounds...

Oy toots, get your fat ass over here...

"Shut up, shut up, shut up." It was no use. Begging them to stop never helped. Your hands pressed down on your ears but they couldn’t silence the insistent, ghostly voices inside, louder and louder and louder, repeating the same sentences over and over again and you wanted to rip them off, just to maybe get them out, deafen them, make them…

“Stop that now, Darling." Two hands that were not your own were on yours, long fingers peeling them away from your ears and taking them in tender but firm grips to pull your arms apart. Those foreign hands were dark and warm and much bigger than yours, holding you by the wrists as they pulled you away from the door and back onto your feet. Without releasing them, you felt a chest pressing against your back as the hands on your wrists guided them into an embrace, cageing you with crossed arms in front of you in warmth and the firm, humming body of Alastor. "There now, that's much better isn't it. Now breathe, dearest, with me. Do it with me."

Your mind was a haze of scattered and pained thoughts and fears that were struggling and lashing out to the surface, but they quieted into soft whimpers and whizzing like a dying steam train with every steady, deep inhale Alastor took with you, his chest rising against your back and his breath steady in your ears. He waited a few moments after he had made you breathe normally again before letting go and gently turning you to face him, hands now on your shoulders as you avoided his eyes, but when he looked at your face and your tear streaked cheeks he wiped the wetness away from your skin with the pad of his thumb.

"Why did you come?" You sounded husk and defeated. You knew your jig was up. You've been found out. At last.

"How did I not come sooner would be the better question, darling." Alastor answered, leaving his hand cupped on your cheek, thumb still in mid-stroke as he talked to your averted face. His voice was clear, even-keel, just loud enough for you to hear. And you heard him all the better for not facing him, his signature transatlantic accent and theatrical flourish in his tone, always so strong and prominent, was missing entirely as he continued. "For a few weeks now I've suspected that something was not right with you, my dear. Though I didn't want to press the matter, today has confirmed this. You've not eaten any of the food prepared, spare the few bits of greenery that wouldn't even nourish the roaches that pester this hotel, and we both know you only did because you knew you were being watched."

Watched by him. You sighed quietly at the accuracy, finally turning to look at him, awaiting to find judgment and ridicule, though the red deer demon didn't move at all. He just carried on his stroke with the thumb under your eyes, which started tearing up again, his expression strangely soft.

"My shadows reported that you were hiding food given to you just to throw it away later, and I took notice how you constantly avoided reflective surfaces. Darling, your image must haunt you and I cannot imagine the reason why. I find myself asking: What would drive you to starve yourself, to hide from mirrors and cut your eyes to any remarks looking for underlying maliciousness?"

What a loaded question, asked so simply. And he seemed honestly confused. No smirk, no tilted head. You paused for a long while before answering him.

"You... you won't understand, Alastor."

"Then help me to, darling." He coaxed you, now moving both his hands to hold your face and pull your head closer to lean his forehead to yours, looking firmly in your eyes. And it dawned on you then that the radio demon, the overlord who never revealed weakness, never showed real emotions or shared much with anyone, the one demon who walked these halls smiling and sneering with menace and mystery and endless pride, was purposely and genuinely showing you that he cared.

Maybe it was the fatigue and the despair finally getting the best of your defense system. Maybe it was because he wasn't just anybody. Alastor was so many things but most importantly, he was your friend, had been ever since you and him found mutual interests in each other in countless nights that were spent in quiet by the fireplace in the hall. He liked your level-headedness, your ability to listen, really listen, patiently and actively. You liked his vivaciousness, the vast knowledge of him that he could share when one was just willing to let him talk. Yes, the others were nice, and yes, you felt close to all of them after a few months. But you felt the closest to him, proven by the fact that not Charlie knocked on your door, or Angel noticed you were paler and thinner than weeks ago. But Alastor. Maybe you just needed that final push and he had given it to you.

So you spilled. Through sobs, tears and sighs, you told him everything:

From your family that wouldn't stop comparing you with your thinner friends, fostering a hatred for food because of misguided care. You shared that your health became less and less important with every diet and lost pound, seeing your aching stomach as a sign of sucess. How you'd hate yourself for lack of discipline when you starved yourself so much your brain snapped and you ate any- and everything you found until you felt sick and disgusting. How your friends while alive were never intentionally hurtful, yet dismissive about your insecurities, complaining to you about their sizes while you felt like they were mocking you, being stick thin and conventionally beautiful. And you told him about your one and only boyfriend, who accepted the relationship under the pretense that you'd change to fit his preferences, always waiting for you to drop weight he saw as too much, to shape you the way he wanted you to be, threatening to keep you secret from his friends and family until you did. And you did. But you paid the bitter price - got cheated on while you counted calories, and when you finally reached the set weight he dictated, he left. Leaving you hungry and confused, thin and sick and so, so lost.

With every word his hold on you grew tighter and tighter. But so did yours on him. This time, it was him who listened quietly, never interrupting, and only at the mention of that asshole ex is when he made a sound, his ears went flat against his skull as a low growl rumbled in his throat, but his expression remained perfectly stoic, absorbing your words quietly. After you finished you leaned heavily against Alastors chest and hid your face there, feeling drained and guilty for soaking his expensive coat with your pitiful tears. Your entire body was numb with exhaustion and pain, so was the emptiness inside of you that your self-deprecating thoughts have been inhabiting for years, and you dreaded the response Alastor could give to your pathetic life-story.

"All those people have proven to you to be thoroughly disappointing." was what Alastor said first, speaking very softly with his chin leaning against your scalp. "It makes the blood call for revenge when thinking about the throes you've had to put up with. You don't owe anybody to change anything about yourself that you do not wish to."

You couldn't hold back another tear that rolled down your nose and onto Alastor's shirt, clinging tighter to him and shaking your head against his shoulder, nuzzling his shirt in desperate and trained denial of comforting words.

"Aren't they right though? I'm not like Charlie, or Angel, or even you. I'm not...they are so… just... look at me." You muttered and tried to push out of the hug to avoid looking him in the eye, but the demon didn't give.

"Oh, I am." He gave you a stern stare, unintimidating and almost tender as he pulled you back closer. "Darling, I am looking at you, more than you think. And all I see is a strong, intelligent and beautiful little sinner, so willing to give everyone more grace and gentleness than herself that she hides from every compliment she deems unworthy of her, ashamed of her lovely shape that was the source of so much torment." Alastor sighed, cupping your face in a loose grip, shaking his head in disbelief. "Everyone of us has flaws, we are inherently imperfect creatures, some more than others, and yet you've managed to convince yourself those flaws and imperfections define you in their entirety."

Your instincts told you to flee, to run from this kindness that was offered to you so alluringly. It has to be a trap, your head told you, don't trust those words, don't give in. And you almost tried to, your muscles tensed as if to bolt, your breath quickened as if about to run, your heart pounded as if preparing to fight his arms for release. But you didn't.

Maybe, a long forgotten voice spoke in your mind, maybe it wasn't a trick. Maybe he was earnest, like he had been the past couple months in your company. He's here now, isn't he? Holding you and reassuring you and calming you in a way no one ever had. He hadn't put an inch between him and you to allow your doubts space to creep back in, keeping you at his side - not just now, but over the last weeks continuously, had never spoken ill of you or tried to change you, had no agenda, nothing to gain from lying to you.

Alastor smiled when you sank back into his arms, and this time when he stroked your tears away, he let his fingers come to rest at your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. And without a word he leaned forward, eyes half closed, and kissed you on your cheek. His lips lingered for a moment, as if to wait for your reaction, asking a question without words. And you answered it ever so silently, turning your head to meet them with your own.

The kiss was a revelation of truth. Because he was kissing you the way you always longed to be kissed.

There wasn't passion in it, it wasn't hungry and fast or hard and demanding. It wasn't meant to make you hot or make your legs weak, but to tell you that you were cared for, that you were accepted exactly the way you were, imperfections included, and that all the days you've suffered for the wrong reasons were gone with the past and needn't to be re-visited. That you were enough. You always have been.

When he parted from you, Alastor looked content. More than that, actually. Not smiling wide as usually but with eyes sparkling in mirth that could have easily matched that of Charlie on a particularly good day. When he leaned into you again, you almost expected another kiss, but he reached into your pocket, pulling the napkin with Niffty's cookie inside out of your pocket, holding it up expectantly.

"Now, I think it's high time you feed yourself, darling - and you did promise our little Niffty you'd enjoy this later, which it is now."

You stared, first at Alastor, then at the baked good, the guilty conscience you've nursed for so many years creeping back into your thoughts.

"Alastor, I don't know... if I can."

He tilted his head contemplating, turning the cookie in his hand before he snapped it in half, handing you one half while he brought the other to his mouth and raised a brow.

"We'll share it then."

This gesture was everything. It was everything, because you knew he really didn't care for sweet treats. But he cared for you.

You took your half from his hands, feeling the corners of your lips pull into a small smile at the way he scrunched his nose at the sticky thing in his hands when you both bit in. But his free hand found yours, entwining your fingers as he suffered through his bite, and as you watched him him struggling to keep an unfazed expression, you thought that - while Niffty might've put in her best efforts - nothing she or anyone could make could ever sate your hunger more than his lips could.

Tagging my lovely testreaders @bapple117 and @macabr3-barbi3, who really encouraged and reassured me. I love you both, as well as the others in Bapples discord server (TRUST US and join NOW) who never tire of lifting me up when I'm struggling <3

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 8/?

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

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

When Keekee suddenly showed up at the hotel without her dad, Charlie had a slight moment of panic. Thoughts of 'oh my god, did they kill him?', 'is he locked up in Heaven???', 'I knew I or someone should've went with him', and 'please don't be dead dad!' went through her head.

Thankfully the cat familiar took pity on her and relayed her master's message and whereabouts. It didn't really stop Charlie from worrying but it eased her just a little bit to know that her dad is safe back home.

Charlie: I should go to him, right? To make sure he's really fine?

Angel: Toots, I think short king just needs a little time to himself. Just cos he said you can go doesn't really mean you have to go now.

Vaggie: I hate to say it but I think Angel is kinda right, surprisingly.

Angel: Oh fuck ya! I can give sound advices too, yaknow.

A chuckle from Cherri Bomb is what started a whole roasting session that they will surely laugh about later.

Cherri Bomb: Pfft, sure.

Angel: I do!

Husk can't help but join in on the teasing too.

Husk: Angel, just give up. You're gonna give that Fizzarolli guy a run for his money telling those jokes.

Angel: Gasp! Huskie, you too?! Betrayed by my own boyfriend.

Husk: I'm not your boyfriend!

The blush on the bartender's face could rival Alastor's outfit's shade of red. It became redder when Nifty let out a sinister-like gremlin laugh that no one in the hotel would like to hear if they can help it.

Nifty: Hehehehe. Not yet~

Angel: Husk, baby, have you been talking to others about your feelings fo' wittle old meeee?

Husk: No!

They continue to bicker and Charlie can't help but look at them with adoration. All of them have come so far and she can confidently say that they have evolved into somewhat of a family unit. A bit dysfunctional but she won't have it any other way.

Vaggie: Why don't you let the man sleep for a bit.

Charlie: I just worry, Vaggie..

The soft look her girlfriend gave her would've melted Charlie into a lovesick puddle if she wasn't so preoccupied with her dad.

Vaggie: I know, babe.

Alastor: I do have to agree with them, dear.

The ex-exorcist yelped in surprise at Alastor's sudden presence beside them while Charlie had grown accustomed to the man's nasty habit of sneaking up on people. Maybe she should invest a bell for him. Hmm... She wonders if her dad can make Al wear one.

Vaggie: Jesus, Alastor!

Charlie: You too, Al?

Alastor: Why don't you join us for a meal first, hm? That should give your father enough time to rest. I seem to remember that it was your turn to set the table, isn't that right, Vagatha?

Vaggie grumbles something in Spanish that Charlie is sure is a curse word but doesn't argue anymore.

Vaggie: Everyone, dining hall. Now!

And just like that, everyone stopped talking and went straight to the kitchen, leaving just Keekee, Charlie, and Alastor in the lobby.

Charlie absentmindedly pets Keekee who climbed up in her arms while looking at her family fondly. She takes notice of Alastor next to her sporting the same look as hers.

She's glad that he's opening up bit by bit. She wonders if her dad had anything to do with that or if Alastor just learned to trust on his own.

Speaking of Al and her dad. That's a can of worms that she was, at first, afraid to open. She's happy for her dad, don't get her wrong, but there's still days where she misses her mom. Sometimes, if she's in a really bad place, she imagines her mom coming back and all three of them living happily ever after again.

With Alastor in the picture, she became a bit afraid. Of being replaced as the most important person in her dad's life or how her once dream happily ever after will never be reality, she doesn't know.

But seeing Alastor's genuinely care for her dad; never leaving his bedside after the Roo debacle, leaving Marigold's everywhere (how romantic is that, Vaggie!), and providing solace for her dad that she knows she can't always give. Those actions told her that maybe despite not getting her original happy ever after with her mom and dad, she can always dream of a new one.

There's something different about Alastor right now, though. He looks more stiff than usual but sagging at the same time. It could be also be worry but Charlie thinks she knows Alastor enough to tell that he's irritated. And he's definitely leaning into his cane more.

Alastor, probably feeling her stare, sighs.

Alastor: What is it, my dear?

Charlie at least had the decency to be flustered for staring.

Charlie: Sorry, Al. But um... are you okay?

Alastor: Whatever do you mean?

Charlie: It's just- you look, I don't know, irritated? Or like annoyed? I know I sound hypocritical but dad's gonna be alright.

Alastor: I appreciate the sentiment, Charlie, but I have full faith in your father. He is not the source of my... mood. Not directly, anyway.

He accidentally said the last part instead of just thinking about it but thankfully it was quiet enough that Charlie didn't caught it.

His answer just made Charlie more confused. Tilting her head, she looks at the radio demon quizzically.

Charlie: So you are in a mood?

Alastor: Nothing for you to be worried about, my dear! It might just be my cravings.

Charlie: For... human flesh?

He gives her one of his more sinister grins, the one she's seen when he's hungry for blood (and not the cannibal kind). He's just being silly, she thinks to herself. She made a note to ask her dad about partner choices later.

Alastor: Fried fish.

And with that, Alastor disappears into the kitchen. Keekee purrs in Charlie's hold as her eyes trail the retreating shadow.

Charlie: What a creepy guy, huh.

Her pet only meows in response.

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

This wasn't how this chapter was supposed to end but I decided to cut it in half anyway.

Tomorrow is some meal moments and Charlie going to see her dad.

Don't worry, we'll get back to Luci in a bit!