#and then i make a demon face and hes like no !!!! an actual smile !!!! and then i do actually smile cause its really funny

[safination]

Shadows

|Masterlist| Pairings: Alastor x Reader Tags/ Warnings; f!Reader, Demon! Alastor. [TLDR: Charlie calls you back to the hotel. Something seems wrong with Alastor.] A/N: Woowwiee? What's this? A post? After how many months? This is a re-write of Crimson Nightmare. I always did want to make it into a proper fic and why not do it now to slowly get back into writing? So yeah, I'll be accepting requests again. No promises that I'll be able to finish it. Give me your ideas and I'll do my best with the 2 hours that's allotted for my free time. This will be my practice. How much can I write within an hour or two. They probably won't be too long unless the words take me. And unlike a CERTAIN SOMEONE, when I say short, I actually mean it. You know who you are. Work bitch!

The doorknob to the Hazbin Hotel buzzes your skin. The slightest touch sends a current that runs up your arm, warning you of the danger inside. This door shouldn’t be opened.

In the end, Charlie swings the door open, the action so fast that the hinges strain. She’s in her pajamas, and her hair spikes in different directions. “Sorry for calling you out of work,” Charlie says, twiddling her thumbs as she rambles a little. “I know you work nights, but I didn’t think the hotel would last any longer.”

“It sounded like an emergency,” you tell her, ignoring the buzzing claw that bites your skin. “I’m not sure how I can help, but I can try.”

Charlies grabs your arm, yanking you inside before the door locks. The hallways are darker, with a distinct green lining the walls. The further Charlie pulls you, the dimmer it gets. It hit you all at once – the air buzzes with . . . with Alastor. The prickles going up your skin are familiar ones. There’s a charge in the air that caresses you.

It’s almost comforting, in a way.

Charlie holds your hand, trying to give you a smile – she doesn’t try hard enough. “It’s Alastor,” she says. “Or at least we think it is, we don’t know what’s wrong and he won’t respond to us! Every time we get closer it just keeps getting worse. So, I thought maybe you kno—”

“I think I understand,” you say, pulling here away from the inky pools of shadows that crawl down the stairs. “This hasn’t happened in quite a while. How troublesome, indeed.”

“We removed everyone near your floor,” Charlie says, squeezing your hand. “I’m a bit worried. Vaggie is keeping watch. Maybe we could throw a phone and we could talk to him?”

You slide a foot into the shadows, watching as it pulls on you. “Just give me time,” you say. “Oh! And maybe some hot milk?”

There’s a look on Charlie’s face, and you know she’s going to try and stop you. You walk towards the stairs, leaving her with a dismissive wave. From the corners of your eye, you see Charlie enter the kitchen.

The deeper you walk, the harsher the pricks of static become. Still . . . the darkness seems to part for you, letting you into its shadows.

“My deer.” You knock on the door to your room. “Could you open the door for me?”

Nothing.

The door’s unlocked. So, with a deep inhale, you step inside.

The fireplace lights the room with its green blaze; its light being sucked into the darkness of the bayou. Alastor is somewhere in there.

You stay by the light, letting it keep you safe. You’re not vain enough to think you were special. Alastor is lost in the deepness of his head. There’s nothing pulling him out when all instincts scream at him. The only kindness you can offer is company.

So, you go straight to the record player, letting a familiar tune fill the room.

Black tentacles slither out from the dark bayou. It slides across the air until they’re wrapping around your waist. One tentacle slides up your leg, wrapping around it like a snake on a tree. You allow yourself to be pulled deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper.

From the darkness, glowing radio dials peer at you. They stare straight at you, wide and unchanging.

“Alastor,” you say with a small smile. “Hello, my deer.”

The tentacles drop you into his palms. He’s so much bigger in this form. The antlers on his head sprout like overgrown tree branches, and his neck is snapped in three places. That smile of his never wavers, even as the shadows pull on his mind.

Radio static scratches at the air. Still, you reach out for him, wrapping your arms around him, pressing yourself into his cheek. You press a small kiss on his nose, nuzzling closer. Blood trails out of his mouth, staining your work clothes. You only hold him tighter.

So, this is how the night goes.

Alastor, lost in his own mind.

You, waiting until he returns.

[hello-my-name-is-aves]

Sanemi Loves Giyuu Because He Reminds Him of Kanae

*Siiiiiiighhhh*

I have seen this theory posited one too many times, and I finally have to gently and lovingly tell anyone who will listen that it is just nonsensical bullshit.

To anyone who has ever thought/felt/argued this point: WDYM!? They both have....black hair? Because, truly, that is where any comparison between them ends. (And, in case we forgot, KNY takes places in Japan. Do you know how many people in Japan have black hair? The Hashira and Kamabokos are like a bunch of freakish outliers in terms of hair color.) So if we dismiss hair color, what else is there? They are different genders, different body types, different eyes, different skin tones - Surely we can all agree that Sanemi is NOT attracted to them both on the basis of a physical resemblance.

So what about personalities?

Kanae was gentle and soft and warm. She was kind-hearted and easy-going. She almost always had a smile on her face. She was friendly with everyone. She (with, perhaps, delusional optimism) had a dream of one-day living peacefully alongside demons.

...Does any of that sound like Giyuu Tomioka?

Giyuu who never smiles? Giyuu who, when he deigns to speak at all, speaks with callous dismissal and a sprinkle of sass? Giyuu who has exactly ZERO friends, is difficult to work with, and is beset by crippling self-doubt?

Kanae and Giyuu could not be more different. There is absolutely no way, none whatsoever, that Sanemi Shinazugawa looks at Giyuu and sees Kanae. If he does, it is only, perhaps, in a moment of nostalgia because the emotion he feels for both of them is love.

All of that assumes that Sanemi did, in fact, love Kanae AND Giyuu.

But, alas, I just find that impossible to buy into. Sanemi Did Not Love Kanae Romantically. Now, I want to preface this next bit with telling you that I have nothing against SaneKana as a fan ship. It has aesthetic appeal, and in full disclosure, I was a SaneKana shipper before I saw the light discovered SaneGiyuu. I do, however, take issue with anyone who claims on any level whatsoever that SaneKana was canon.

The piece of evidence people always point to when they claim that Sanemi loved Kanae is Gyomei the Tea Hashira's assessment of his fellow Hashira in the fanbook where he says of Sanemi: He seems to like Kanae.

And then the claim is supported on Sanemi's page when he says that he talks to Shinobu every now and then because she was Kanae's sister.

I cannot stress enough how mediocre that is as evidence. "Like" is such an ambiguous word. I LIKE a lot of people that I don't want to date/marry/shag. Sanemi also "Likes" Kyojuro. In another translation of the same page, it says on Obanai's section that he "Likes" Obanai best of all. No one is trying to claim that SaneRen and SaneOba are canon ships. If the statements were backed up by canon evidence for SaneKana then I could see it, but someone tell me, where is the evidence?

In the Manga, they have ONE interaction, and that is Kanae gently berating Sanemi for his outburst at his first Hashira Meeting.

In the Light Novels, they also have ONE interaction, and do you know how it goes...? Sanemi thinks about his mom. Guys. Guys. Sanemi did not have a crush on Kanae. He just was reminded of his mom by her gentle nature and her warm hands. When she is bandaging him up, there is no romantic tension, no eyes meeting or fleeting touches or little moments that indicate attraction. Sanemi gets totally distracted and lost in his own thoughts of his mother (until Kanae mentions the person there is an actual argument to be made for him having a crush on, Masachika.)

The Light Novel also makes it pretty clear imo that Sanemi has no interest in women at all. Now you could argue he just isn't interested in romance, full stop, but frankly, I think it is more likely that Sanemi just has crushes on boys, not girls.

Now that that's all said and done... You know else gets the "A likes B because they remind them of C" treatment? Giyuu, Sabito and Sanemi! I'll be giving Giyuu and Sabito a whole post of their own soon, so keep an eye out for it if you like <3 :)

So there you have it. Thanks for reading and have a blessed day!

(disclaimer in case it wasn't clear enough: I am not claiming that Sanemi canonically loves Giyuu or Masachika either. I'm just addressing the dynamic crossroads these fan ships too often find themselves in.)

[makeyoumine69]

Could you do Patrick being obsessed with his chubby s/o?

Do I Wanna Know?

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Patrick Bateman x Chubby!Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: At first, it wasn't even an obsession. Patrick always told himself that you weren't his type, but at some point, everything went so wrong. Now, only the taste of forbidden fruit can satisfy his hunger.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: NSFW, mutual pining, obsession, body worship, oral sex (69), unprotected p in v sex (reversed cowgirl), creampie, hair pulling, choking, spanking, mild degradation kink, dirty talk, swearing, pet names, Patrick is literally an awkward demon, implied murder, dark themes, implied masturbation and stalking.

𝐀/𝐍: Finally, I was in the mood to write after a long time, so I hope you like it. Thank you so much for sending me your request! I was inspired by this edit made by amazing @patrickbatemanstradwife, this song got stuck in my head. Crawlin' back to youuuu!🫠

Please follow my writing community or my side-blog to know when I update!💕

This was all so wrong.

Everything about you was wrong, but he couldn't help it. Every time he saw you in the office, he was ready to gnaw off his own hand. Maybe he was actually doing it just to stifle a low, throaty groan because you were giving him a boner just by walking around here in something tight.

And it was over for him.

Patrick could imagine these curvy hips and the arch of your ass. He dreamed about how it would feel to be inside you while you moaned loudly and miserably as he pounded into you with no mercy. It was just pure filth, pure madness. No shame, no bluff. He fully accepted the fact that he craved your thickness. If he could, he'd walk up to you in the narrow hallway leading to his office, bend you over a desk, and ignore the shocked stares of onlookers. He couldn't care less. He was about to lose his mind if he didn't sink his white teeth into your soft ass, hips, or torso, where he could imagine ribs ticking beneath his bite.

Jesus Christ. 

Bateman could barely breathe standing next to the printing machine, pretending to wait for the document to print. In reality, he was watching—literally stalking—you as you strolled around, being nice and friendly as usual.

Holy fuck!

He probably should have locked himself in the nearest bathroom and jerked off. That might have saved him. But then Patrick remembered that he had already masturbated twice that morning, and his dick was still aching. His hand wasn't enough anymore. Actually, it never was, but now it was an entirely different tragedy.

"Good morning, Mr. Bateman," you popped up right next to him, like a rabbit from a hat. "How are you doing today?"

Oh, no, fuck no. It was the way you leaned on your clasped hands, making your breasts look delicious, and the V-cut of your blouse didn't seem to hide anything—the view was absolutely breathtaking. Patrick began to pray for salvation, even though he was an atheist.

The man gave you an awkward smile and nervously adjusted his tie. "I'm—ah—I'm great," he replied nonchalantly, as if he didn't want to say, "I want your tits in my mouth."

"How is your new workplace? I heard you got promoted." Patrick actually giggled. The red hue spreading across his face gave him an innocent look, like a little deer who wanted to be petted.

"It's nice, really nice," you grinned, bending a bit lower. You didn't realize your breasts were pressed together provocatively, and Bateman was about to cry and run away, thinking you were doing it on purpose to torture him. "Uh, maybe we can drink coffee sometime?"

Oh, God.

Did you really ask him out like that? So blatantly? Did he not mishear?

Your audacity always sent his ego through the roof because he couldn't understand how you could be that confident and brazen naturally. He was sure you weren't doing it on purpose; this was simply the way you had always been. He hated it so much, practically frying himself from jealousy.

"That's a really sweet offer, but I don't think I can find time off work." Bateman tapped the desk next to him. The printing machine had already spat out several forgotten documents next to it. Who would care about some pages when such a gorgeous woman was standing there? He was so close; he'd actually bury his face right between those big, luscious breasts. "Maybe next time."

The man almost choked on his tongue when he said it, but he didn't backtrack or try to look like he could change his mind, even when he noticed the way your face dropped a bit. 

"Well," you replied, straightening up and casting a slightly disappointed glance at him. "Next time, I hope I'll be luckier. Have a nice day, Mr. Bateman."

You turned on your heels and strode away. He could have sworn his eyes were glued to the sway of your hips in those tight pants. Where did you buy them? At some local store for nerds?

Annoyed as hell, Bateman wanted nothing more than to flip the desk next to him and throw it across the room. He should have said yes. But that nudging sensation, probably a mix of fear and embarrassment, messed everything up again. However, he was so hard that he was sure it would hurt to walk like this if he didn't solve this problem.

Cursing under his breath, Patrick suddenly rushed around the desk and followed you down the hallway. He caught up with you at the elevators and slid inside one of them at the last second. He startled everyone inside, but he didn't care.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, moving through the crowd of irritated office workers until he found you standing next to the elevator wall. Your eyes wandered over the shining ceiling, and your face looked so sad that, for a second, he hated—really hated—himself for being such a jerk and upsetting you. "Hey."

You looked at him with wide eyes, blinking and processing the situation. "Hey," you repeated after him, totally confused. "Something's wrong?"

"Yes! Oh—I mean—no," Patrick chuckled as he finally pressed the button on the control panel, hoping the people around him would stop staring as if he were standing naked in the middle of the elevator. "Jean told me that one of my meetings got canceled, so I thought—" He paused and stood next to you, towering over you, but not staring down your neckline. "A cup of coffee would be nice."

"Really?"

"Yep," he replied smoothly, without arrogance or sass. "Actually, I know one really good place with the best coffee in the Upper West Side."

Later that day, the two of you ended up in his bedroom.

Just like that.

You hated yourself for letting this man win you over, but you couldn't resist him—his charm, his sweet voice, his enchanting manners. Everything about him screamed danger, but you also wanted to unravel and drown in his mystery. His skin was so soft and smooth that you thought you’d never tire of touching it, no matter how many years passed. You would still choose to be in his arms, kissing him as passionately as he was kissing you.

Breathless. Sloppy. Mouth open. Teeth clashing.

The king-sized bed suddenly started to feel small as Patrick was all over you, touching, squeezing, and teasing. He could never get enough; if he let you go, even for a second, you would slip through his fingers like sand. He’d never let that happen, so he held you tight, pressing you down with his heavy muscles. You could barely breathe. Your hands roamed along his broad back while he showered every inch of your body with feverish kisses. Your neck was covered in hickeys, your collarbone had visible bite marks, and your nipples were sore from being in his mouth for so long. In one swift motion, Bateman switched positions, putting you on top of him. He looked a bit embarrassed and lost when you drew near his lips to peck them, one by one, and then his protruding cheekbone.

After a short, shaky exhale, Patrick suddenly blurted out, "I want you to sit on my face—"

"What?" You retorted, genuinely surprised.

"Hold on, let me finish," he smirked, bouncing you slightly on his hips. The mere contact of his hard bulge beneath his white silk boxers against your laced, soaked panties caused you both to freeze for a moment. "I want you to sit on my face while I feed you my cock."

There was a short but awkward pause.

You barely held back your loud laughter, which you directed right at his flustered face. "What a creative way to suggest trying 69."

"We're not 'trying it,' sweetheart, " he crooned, tilting his head up to pull your lower lip with a loud, wet pop. "I'm going to eat your pussy until you gush all over my mouth, and I'm fucking sure you won't last long."

"Your arrogance will be your downfall one day."

Squinting his hazel eyes, Patrick slid both hands along your hips, rubbing the soft mounds and tracing invisible semi-circles on your skin. "Maybe."

Just one word—one simple word—that caused the fall.

You didn’t even notice how easily he repositioned you above his face, giving you access to his throbbing cock. It was already on fire, and the second you touched it, his hot flesh pushed up, risking tearing the fabric of his underwear apart. Meanwhile, Patrick placed his hands on your hips, holding you open and giving your pussy a brief, testing lick through your panties.

"Oh—fuck," you sighed, biting your lower lip with your eyes closed. His cock radiated so much heat that it could burn your hand at any second. "You're—uh—impressive..."

"Get yourself to work," he rasped, kneading your ass up to your hip bones. His mouth was already drooling and heating up at your sopping wet cunt. "While your mouth still functions."

What an asshole.

But you didn't say that out loud.

At one point, you wanted him to suffer and beg you to give him what he wanted, but your own lust overpowered you. It felt like smoldering lava coursing through your veins. His body reacted to every invisible line you drew across his hard length, just across the ridge.

Bateman moaned loudly and unashamedly. The echo vibrated against your taut clit, and you jolted your hips back to grind on his face. You tried to focus on removing his briefs, and when you finally did, his thick dick sprang free. It stood so fucking proud, begging for attention.

"Mmm—leaking already," you murmured before tasting him, catching the creamy drop and wrapping your hand around the base. Bateman groaned gutturally against your folds. His tongue toyed with your bud with illegal precision. You were barely holding back from falling apart. "Oh—God—yes," you gasped. Your hips bucked backward, provoking him. He spanked your ass, trying to tame your bratty behavior. "Hey!"

Smirking with your pussy juices covering his face, he spread your lower lips, catching your clit with his warm mouth for a brief moment. You quivered once again as his large palm landed on your burning ass cheek.

"Don't stray," the man hissed, sucking your clit in one more time. "Or I'll stop."

Nuh-uh.

Such silly things would never work on you. Did that foolish man really think he could blackmail you?

Without saying anything, you slowly reached for his tense balls and gave them a teasing squeeze. Oh well, that had an even greater effect than you intended. Bateman jerked his hips up a bit, literally trying to fuck your hand. The tip was red, swollen, and drenched in pre-cum.

He was far beyond playing such childish games. And he knew it. He was just trying to hide his weak position and how pathetically bad he wanted you, how badly he wanted this, how badly he wanted his cock to hit your fucking throat and have you dump your flavor on his face.

Not to mention that thicc ass of yours.

Holy fuck!

Patrick was addicted. He lost in his own game because he thought you accepted the rules, but you didn't.

The lewd, depraved sounds of your wet lips slipping up and down his cock and his strong tongue flickering around your clit filled his bedroom. Neither of you could hold back anymore. There was no dignity, no self-control, and no pangs of conscience.

Bateman shoved his finger inside you. His free hand settled on your hip, keeping you open. You didn't fall back, taking his dick deeper into your mouth. You helped with your hands, which were locked around it. You jacked him off rhythmically. You whimpered and cried from his girth. Your vision was blurred, but you wanted him to surrender first. You needed that like air. It would be his punishment for being so stubborn and arrogant and making stupid excuses about not having lunch or dinner with you.

Patrick’s lips, tongue, and fingers worked like an unstoppable force, one that would burst every piece of your body.

"Ah—shit," you cursed under your breath, biting your sticky lips. The half-transparent string of saliva mixed with his cum was hovering on your chin. "I'm think...I'm gonna cum!"

Your breathless, whiny sounds fueled his determination to discover how your clenching pussy would feel around his fingers. The second you let go, Bateman continued slurping at your cunt. Your wetness gushed around his face, but he kept eating you out and drinking every drop. The orgasm hit you so hard that you thought you’d choke on his dick, so you let go of it and clung to his muscular calves. Your lips parted, but no sound came out.

Patrick stopped only when you were completely spent—lumpy, lightheaded, and wrecked. "Jesus," he trailed off, tipping his head back onto the big white pillow. "You're a sweet one. I knew it. I fucking knew it."

You could barely think or talk, panting, as you were mere inches away from lying against his pulled-up legs. His dick was still rigid and throbbing with each hot breath you exhaled. You couldn't see his face, but he must have looked smug and proud—like he was thinking, "Look at me. I just made this bitch explode on my tongue." You wanted to say something to bring him back down to Earth, but...

To hell with talking.

Right now, you didn't want instructions, praise, or sweet nonsense. You just wanted his dick deep inside you until he spilled inside you. Yeah, you'd like that. The thought of being so full of his cum could make you climax again.

Just the thought.

You carefully got on your knees, still with your ass to his face and your legs open on either side of him. Driven by the lingering hunger inside your core that seemed like an endless, consuming black hole, you raised up a bit and positioned his cockhead right between your legs. You rubbed it barely sensibly over your slick pussy lips.

"Dirty girl," he rasped. His cheeks, neck, shoulders, and chest were red. He was a mess, but he didn't try to hide it. "You think you can handle it?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

Patrick squinted, ducking his head down to watch you bend over and give him the most delicious, mouth-watering view: your ass, your plump thighs, and your sore, puffy cunt, swollen from his oral assault. It actually deserved to be taped and added to his porn collection.

But damn, the moment you aligned his dick with your soaked hole and began to guide it inside, you both stopped breathing. This man could probably be arrogant, since his dick—that beefy, hot flesh stretching you out and shuffling everything in your guts—was about to send you somewhere else entirely.

Somewhere you'd never come back from.

"Tight—ugh—fuck," Bateman said. His hands instantly found their way up to your thighs, squeezing and petting them to encourage you to ride him faster. "Tight like a fucking glove."

"Shut up," you snapped back, annoyed but excited. Your next orgasm was already there, in your lower region, where the tension seemed to never leave. "Do you think having a big dick makes you a likeable person?"

You turned around, bouncing on his hips. His shaft slid in and out of you smoothly. His balls were covered in a wicked cocktail of your liquids, and your audacity was the perfect addition to this debauchery.

"That’s right, honey," he replied in a low, ragged voice, an eloquent sign that he was close. "You like my cock—uhhh—you like me."

Then, he suddenly sat up and tugged on your hair, forcing you to arch toward his chest and change the angle of penetration, making it even deeper. It was more brutal, more demanding, and less human.

"Patrick, slow down," you said, though you hadn't expected to. Your pussy was literally on fire from the hard strokes he was giving you, even though you were on top. "Mmhm—you're gonna break me in half!"

But the man didn’t slow down. On the contrary, he sped up, yanking your head back even more and slapping your ass several times before resting one of his hands around your throat, choking you and squeezing the oxygen out of your aching lungs. Your eyes saw nothing but a blurry image of the white walls. The sound of your bodies slapping mixed with the squelching of your pussy around his cock each time he forced you down on it. Bateman wanted to engrave all of it in his mind.

He wanted to reminisce about it after murdering you one day.

"You want my cum? You want all of it, like a fucking slut?"

Your neck hurt from being in such an awkward position, but you were bold enough to gaze into his dark, crazy eyes. "Yes—ahhh—yessss," you gasped. His hand flew up to your face, and he put his thumb in your mouth. "Drown me in it!"

Bateman couldn’t help but chuckle darkly. "Filthy," he mumbled as he drove himself as deep as he could. His cockhead brushed against your cervix, and you clawed at his hand, leaving red marks on his perfectly tanned skin. "You fuck like a whore. Did you know that?"

His movements became more sloppy and frantic. His dick pulsed inside your overstimulated pussy. His breath was labored and uneven, just like yours. He came hard, but silently, as if he didn’t want even the walls of his bedroom to know how badly he wanted you. He was with a woman he never even supposed to fantasize about because she was not his type, yet here he was, shooting hot ropes of seed into your core until it streamed onto his pristine sheets.

Your next orgasms set in, and you thought you’d pass out. Maybe you really passed out because you were exhausted and overfucked. You blacked out right when Patrick put you on the bed and pressed you against his wet chest. You couldn't move your limbs, as if someone had pressed a button and shut you down. You could have sworn. It was the best sleep of your life because you had never been more satisfied.

You were the first one to wake up in the morning. You took some time just sitting there and admiring the view. Patrick looked so peaceful in his sleep, almost angelic. You had to make a conscious effort not to touch him or brush back the messy locks of his brown hair sparkling in the sunlight. You wished you could stay there forever, but...

There was always a "but" that would bring you back to reality like a bucket of cold water.

Sneakily and almost silently, you got up to find your clothes scattered around the room like junk. Piece by piece, you collected your outfit. A semblance of shame crept up inside your chest. Where would all of this lead you? Patrick was a vice president, and you hoped he wouldn't brag about having sex with you in his bedroom the next day.

Lost in disturbing thoughts, you didn't notice how you ended up in his kitchen. Everything looked sterile and cold. There was something eerie about the atmosphere, but you couldn't comprehend it. No matter how hungry or thirsty you were, you didn't dare touch anything. Instead, you got dressed and put your watch on your wrist, checking your reflection in its glimmering dial.

Meanwhile, Bateman was already awake. Frankly, he hadn’t been sleeping for very long—he pretended to be asleep even when he felt your piercing gaze examining his "sleepy" features. He knew you were in his living room, maybe even in his kitchen, and wondered if you would overstep the boundaries.

Would your curiosity be your demise? 

With one practiced motion, Patrick pushed the blanket to the side, causing his briefs to fall to the floor. He stared at them for a while, but then decided to wrap himself in a sheet instead of putting on the used underwear.

Still, no sounds came from the kitchen, which intrigued him.

Bateman strolled out of the bedroom, not like a creep trying to startle you, but subtly approaching you until he finally saw you and what you were about to do. Unaware of his presence, your hand was already on the refrigerator door, ready to open it, when you suddenly heard his somewhat menacing voice.

"Don't," he warned, standing inches away from you. "Don't open it."

You gulped and locked eyes with him. "I... I just wanted some water."

"There was an issue with the electricity." The man paused and moved closer. His looming figure made you feel small, so you instinctively stepped back. "So, probably, all the food spoiled. I don't want the smell everywhere. I have some bottles of Evian in my bathroom, though.”

"Uh, since you mentioned the bathroom," you muttered, fiddling with your fingers awkwardly. You weren't sure why it was suddenly so difficult to look him in the eyes. "Can I use it?"

"Sure."

That was all he said before you headed towards the bathroom without hesitation. Only after hearing the door click shut did the man open the fridge to check on the decapitated head of some random blonde model. He couldn't remember her name, even though her head was sitting on one of the shelves in the fridge, next to food products, as if that were normal.

With an ugly grin, Bateman pressed a finger to his lips, kissing it lightly before placing it on the dead girl’s frozen, rotten mouth. "Sleep well, darling."

With that, he closed the fridge and whistled. His mind raced with ideas of what he could do to you in the bathroom right now. A shiny, big kitchen knife caught his attention, sending a jolt of electricity down his spine and through his groin. His cock was already getting hard.

Although the sex with you was good—the most delicious appetizer—now it was time for the main course, and Patrick knew he would enjoy it.

Every fucking second of it.

Thank you for the reading!🖤 [MAIN M-LIST]🪓[SHORT REQUESTS M-LIST]🪓[KO-FI]

[alastor-simp]

Alastor x Reader - Sleeping On His Lap

Here is my attempt at a Alastor x reader fanfiction. Took me awhile to kinda get into his character so please don't be mad if Alastor seems a bit off. Enjoy!

Sigh, it was another eventful day at the Happy Hotel, or Hazbin Hotel as it was now called as a certain deer demon decided to change the name. You had spent all day doing certain tasks around the hotel such as helping Charlie create posters for the hotel, clean the rooms with Nifty, break up the brawl between Vaggie and Angel Dust as he had pissed her off one too many times and organize the bar for Husk as he was passed out drunk. You could have refused to do these things, but you enjoyed helping people, so it made it all worth it.

You had started working at the hotel after you had saw Charlie singing on the 666 news about the hotel and redeeming demons, only for her idea to be made a laughing stock upon everyone who watched the broadcast. You actually had mixed feelings about the whole redeeming thing, seeing as you weren't sure if someone like you could be sent to heaven, despite not being a very big criminal during your time when you were alive, but apparently doing a little shoplifting is enough to send you a one way ticket to hell. Charlie's words did inspire you a little bit, so even if you felt that you couldn't be redeemed, others probably had a better chance, so you decided to head to the hotel and ask for a job after the broadcast was cut off from the brawl with Charlie and Katie Killjoy. You were hired in a split second and immediately pulled into a bear hug by Charlie, and then introduced you to the others.

Back to the present, you began to feel extremely exhausted from moving around everywhere, so you headed over to one of the rooms with the long couches so you could take a rest. Heading into one of the rooms, you peeped around and saw that no one was there, which made it better as you really needed some peace and quiet. Heaving a deep sigh, you sat down on the couch, turning and falling back, as you laid your body down, with your head facing the front of the couch. "What a long day", thinking to yourself as your eyes slowly began to close and you were lulled into a deep sleep.

**2 Hours Later**

As you were sleeping, you felt the sensation of someone petting your head, the soothing feeling had awoken you a bit, but you quickly fell back asleep at the warm touch. You could feel that you were holding something in your dreams, and you assumed it was one of the pillows on the couch, so you brought it closer to your face and nuzzled it. "Mm, smells nice ", as the scent from the pillow was making you more relaxed, as it reminded you of a being in the middle of a deep forest. After sleeping for 30 more minutes, you slowly began to open your eyes, and try to make out what was in front of you. Expecting to see a pillow, you saw red stripes in front of you, "Huh?" As you were still trying to make out what was in front of you, a loud voice interrupted your thoughts: "Ah, awake now are we?", said a static voice above you. Eyes opening wide, you looked up from your position and saw Alastor staring down at you with his trademark smile. Slowly, you began to piece together that you were laying on his lap, and nuzzled into his chest as you were sleeping. "AHHHH", jumping up from your position, you rolled off his lap, and your body fell to the ground as you stared at Alastor in shock, as he continued to look at you with his glowing eyes, amused at your reaction. "Um, h-how long was I sleeping on your lap?", you softly asked, as your face was red, but your eyes were showing fear, as you remembered that Alastor did not like to be touch, and you happened to hug him in your sleep. "HAHA, For quite a while, darling. It was a very busy day, I assume?", Alastor said as he placed his arm on the armrest of the couch, and his hand against his cheek, smiling even wider.

Nodding your head, you slowly got up from your position, and started apologizing to Alastor, eyes aiming towards the ground and fingers twiddling together. Alastor raised an eyebrow and wondered why you were apologizing, to which you answered that you had hugged him in your sleep, and that he made it very aware that he did not enjoy physical contact from someone unless he initiated it, feeling extremely bad if you made him uncomfortable. Listening to you, Alastor's smile relaxed to a small grin as he looked at you with gentle eyes. He did admit that he was not use to being touch by others, and was quite surprised from the sleep hug, but he didn't detest it as much coming from you, which boggled his mind completely. It must be due to your kind and innocent nature that made him react different around you, as he was used to more of the common riff raff being terrified of him or trying to battle in a turf war, but how you were with him, made his black heart melt.

Feeling that Alastor was upset as he didn't respond to your apology, you quickly excused yourself and began to head over to the door to leave. A loud SNAP was heard and before you knew it, you had been teleported back on to the couch, this time being seated on Alastors lap. "A-Al, what are you doing?!", your face began to become as red as his hair, while your eyes stared at Alastor in shock. Smiling at you, Alastor moved his hand to your chin and tilted your face up: "There is no need to apologize, darling. If I had been upset about you hugging me, you possibly w̩͉͍̱̍̂̉̊o̫̼̐̎̋͜u͚͌l̳̓d̠͉̗͋̔͞'̼̳̣̼͊̏̾̾t͜͝ ͕̱͐͠ḇ̅e̙͗ ͍͓͔̱͍͛̔͌͘͞a̝̜̘̎́͒ḽ͒í̱̙̈́v̧̌e̠͠ ̢̹̜́́̈̀ͅr̲͇̳̅̽͌i̩͈̒̅ĝ̲̦̎ẖ̛̳̲͙̀͌̽͘ͅt͉̅ ͖̞͍̞́̋͛͛ň͚̫̦́͂̿͟o̱͌w̡̕" he said, as his eyes flashed for a second into radio dials. "However! I am not opposed to be touched by you. So no need to apologize, my dear.", Alastor said as he continued to smile at you widely, but his glowing eyes were looking at you softly, letting you know that he was not angry with you. Feeling shy, you turned your head away from Alastor, muttering a soft okay, as your heart was beating rapidly. "Smile my dear!" Alastor said as he moved his hand from your chin to your cheek, to have you look at him again. Baring through the embarrassing situation, you gave Al a small smile, which pleased him. "You always over do it, darling. While Charlie and I appreciate your efforts at helping the hotel, it does no good to work yourself to the point of fatigue. If you are ever feeling exhausted and need a break, don't be hesitant to come find me, as my radio tower is open to you. Understand, my dear?" said Alastor, as he leaned closer towards you, making you flustered again.

Nodding your head was enough to let Alastor knew you understood as he chuckled, while sliding you off his lap, and as he stood up from the couch. "Now then, we should probably head back to the lobby before the others get worried about our lack of presence.", He said, as he straighten his coat out, while turning towards you, extending his hand out for you to take it. "Yeah we should", as you grabbed his hand, and made your way with him back to the lobby. You were still trying to process what just happened between you and Alastor, but you feel like you both have become much closer then before, and you didn't mind it one bit.

[deikshen]

Shen Qingqiu who, while Shang Qinghua is recovering from some random poisoning (that demon has already died at the hands of Mobei, don't worry), is forced to spend time with Mobei-jun.

At first it's tense. He arrives, a mandatory tea out of politeness. It's usually frozen. They don't have much to talk about or anything in common except their concern for Shang Qinghua.

Except they do have in common. At some point, perhaps, Shen Qingqiu mentions some rare beast, and Mobei-jun comments that he killed a couple of those. That leads to the first long conversation the two of you can have.

The next time, Mobei-jun brings back the beast's fangs. The two return to their conversation about monsters. Mobei-jun speaks little, concisely, but he talks about how to kill those beasts, the properties of their organs, the functioning of their poisons. Shen Qingqiu shares his bestiaries and provides additional information.

Then, even when Shang Qinghua improves, Shen Qingqiu usually takes advantage of the time when he has to stay in the northern palace with his husband to, well, expand his bestiary. Mobei-jun also seems to be passionate about flora that can kill, or anything huge and dangerous. Shen Qingqiu enjoys their conversations and learns to get more than just a few words out of Mobei-jun's sullen mouth.

Of course, he actually tells Shang Qinghua:

"When your husband isn't being monosyllabic, it's a good conversation" he says simply. "I didn't know he knew so much about flora, monsters and strange beasts. When I find a rare flower and can't remember its name, I'll ask Mobei, not you."

Shang Qinghua laughs a lot at that.

"Ah, I think that's because, well, you know, inspirations and all that..."

Shen Qingqiu looks at Shang Qinghua very curiously.

"Inspirations? You created your perfect husband from scratch. Who did you get your inspiration from, Airplane bro? Spill the tea, let's see the vicious tastes of this shameless author."

Shang Qinghua laughs a little foolishly.

"Well, you see, I had this classmate in college. A very rich guy" Shang Qinghua makes a funny face as he buries in the past. "He was cold and monosyllabic, even hostile to those who were rude, but hey, he could give you an infodumping of all the monsters in The Witcher without even doing research. I heard him do it once and, man, that guy was crazy" and Shang Qinghua continues talking while, as if by omen, Shen Qingqiu begins to feel a strange sensation of vertigo. "He was kind of cute, well, not exactly my fully type, he was very tall but lacked many muscles, but he had the biggest and prettiest resting bitch face I've ever seen on anyone even my king. He always wore all those fancy clothes that cost the same as my apartment rent, those silver accessories, rings, necklaces, bracelets... His hair was also kind of long, now that I think about it, and when he wore it down it was, god, a delight. I liked him a little. He was my college crush." and Shang Qinghua shrugs, laughing. His cheeks are red and Shen Qingqiu feels that his own ears are red, too. "Cucumber bro, it's actually a bit silly. I remember this boy's last name was also Shen."

That... That's the last straw.

"You-!" and Shen Qingqiu finds himself hitting him with the fan before he realizes it. "How-? What the hell!?"

"Ow, ow, OUCH, Cucumber bro!! What's going on?!"

Shen Qingqiu feels his face burning. His hands tremble over the fan. What the fuck!?

"... Bro?!"

"That classmate of yours" Shen Qingqiu hisses, just to confirm "His name was Shen Yuan?"

Shang Qinghua blinks, confused, recalling his thoughts. Suddenly, his entire face lights up with a wide smile.

"Oh, I forgot!! Yes, that was it!!" and his gaze becomes mischievous. "You met him, too?! He was a delicious little thing, honestly, a nice round butt, he... OUCH-"

"He was me" Shen Qingqiu hisses, opening his fan and hiding behind it. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. Of all the people in the world...!

Shang Qinghua gasps, looking like he was given some vital information. His face, contrary to what Shen Qingqiu expected, does not change into horror, but into mockery.

"Oh, bro" and starts laughing out loud "BRO"

"Damn fourth-rate author, what the hell is wrong with you!!!"

"Bro, BRO, I created a part of my husband based on you!! And you're married to my son self-inserted in a power fantasy!! It's like we're indirectly married!!"

"Fuck you!!"

"Ohh, how cute!! Do you want to jump to the honeymoon already?!"

"Get away!!"

Shen Qingqiu doesn't visit Shang Qinghua again for over a month. However, he does spend some time talking about monsters with Mobei-jun while his husband takes care of the demon court (in the time he would usually use to gossip and fool around with Shang Qinghua), it's just his thing.

[softaestluv]

Nine Lives

Simon Riley posts an ad for a stray cat he does not want and you answer.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem! Reader

Tags: fluff, short n’ sweet, eventual romance/smut

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 4 Pt. 5, last part | ao3 | mlist✎ᝰ.ᐟ

It has to be some form of trauma. A hallucination. A dream. Anything but that stupid fawn-colored cat outside his door.

Scratching. Meowing. Terrorizing him.

He ignores it for as long as he possibly will. Turns the volume of his TV up, washes clothes to drown out the sound, pretends for a while longer that he doesn’t know what’s waiting for him just outside his wooden door. That it doesn’t have a tail and four legs.

But he can’t push it away forever, he’s a man for fucks sake. He doesn’t flee and cower in the face of a threat. A small one at that, curled on his skull mat, waiting for the moment he accepts his fate and opens his damn door. A hostage in his own home.

So, he cracks his door open— just a smidge.

Looks to see if the animal is really there or if the voices, cats, inside his head are playing a cruel joke on him. And sure enough, there it is, licking its paws leisurely as if it fucking belongs there.

A part of him had been hoping he was going crazy, that he was just imagining the high-pitched meow. He could deal with crazy, preferred it actually.

What he couldn’t deal with was the cat outside who seemed convinced he was its home. He’s grateful he hasn’t deleted your contact yet, for multiple reasons now.

It’s easy to ignore the cat, even easier to shut his door in its face, deny it access to his home. Now, as he remembers the events of last week, he thinks he should bring it inside. He’s not entirely fond of the idea, but he’s even less fond of roaming the neighborhood for a second time for the cat.

This is how he finds himself staring at it with a scrutinizing squint and crossed arms on his kitchen counter. It stretches, two front legs reaching out while its hind raises in the air. Simon has to ignore the fact that it’s dirty paws are on his kitchen counter and that it’s fur doesn’t fly in the air as it shimmies itself into a sitting position. He’ll have to bleach the spot and purge the area of any remnants of the pest.

The cat doesn’t seem to sense his aversion because it just stares back, slowly blinking, tail whipping behind it like it’s happy, content. Staring affectionately at him like he hasn’t spent the last several months doing everything in his power to get rid of it.

When you arrive, he begrudgingly takes it into his arms, opens the door to an anxious smile and more fuzzy socks. He dangles it between the two of you with both hands around its torso.

You squeal at the sight, “Churro! What are you doing here, huh? It’s a long distance, pretty lady! It must have been a very dangerous adventure.”

Simon watches you talk to the cat like it can understand you, watches the way your brows pinch, and a small frown forms on your lips in actual concern for its safety. It’s confusing that you would care so deeply for such a thing, but it makes the corners of his lips twitch.

Churro just meows, rubbing her nose and forehead against your cheek. This makes you coo, smiling gently at her, pressing your cheek against hers in turn.

You haven’t even turned your focus to him for a second, no ‘thank you for watching the demon,’ no ‘hi, how are you?’ Just more kisses and sugar-spun words to your precious kitty.

“Was the big scary man mean to you?” You ask, staring at it with beady eyes, “Did he call you the devil again?”

Oh really, cat lady? That’s how it’s going to be? He supposes teasing is better than you being terrified of him.

He scoffs, “Did no such thing.”

You finally look at him, giggling softly as you pull Churro back against your chest, “I’m sure you were nothing but generous to her.”

“I was. Treated the damn thing like royalty.” He grumbles because he was. Carried it into his home even though he wanted to do the complete opposite just so you could have your bloody cat back. And all he has to show for it is you ignoring him for the likes of the cat.

“Well,” You say, nodding your head, “I’m sorry you had to deal with her again. I left her inside before leaving for work, I’m not sure how she managed to get out.”

That was the first time it happened, and of course, it wasn’t the last. Nothing seemed that way with ‘Churro’ because the following week she made her appearance at his house again.

It became a routine. Once a week Churro made her way over to Simon’s like she was visiting him, Simon messaged you— ‘The demon is here.’

Sat Churro on his counter and watched her with pinpointed eyes while he waited. Then you arrived shortly with snuggles and apologies. A new explanation each time; you closed all the windows, checked twice, even locked them! Same with your doors, there was no way for her to get out, but somehow she always managed to escape.

Simon didn’t entirely mind the whole ordeal. Didn’t mind you, quite frankly, he liked opening his door to Tasman slippers, a glimmer in your eyes, and a soft noise of excitement. Pretended as if it was because of seeing him and not the stupid cat in his hands.

Except somewhere along the lines, Simon’s hatred for Churro morphed into something else completely. Ignoring her for as long as he could turned into letting her in after the first scratch. A glowering scowl shifted to furrowed brows. Crossed arms and balled fists became relaxed and loosened at his side. Helicopter supervision simmered into free access, let Churro roam his house while they waited for you.

That wasn’t to say he liked the damn cat because he didn’t. Tolerated her at most. For you, at least.

Irritation still burnt his lungs when he watched you coddle her, when you ignored him as you took her into your arms and rocked her back and forth, when you cuddled her close to your chest and hummed tender words to her instead of him.

Simon wasn’t exactly sure what it was or what it meant. Not when he deprived himself of anything of the sort, thought he had buried it six feet under and sealed it with a cross. But that was the thing, he couldn’t exactly mourn the loss of something when he hadn’t fully committed to severing it of himself completely, held on to it with a thin thread.

It became painfully apparent when he texted you not to come to pick up Churro one day; it was pouring rain, storming, and as much as he didn’t want to have the damn cat overnight, he’d much rather keep you from being stuck in a storm. Still, he opened the door to drenched clothes, shaking fingers, and chattering teeth. His temples pinched, ushering you inside instantly.

Maybe he shouldn’t care, shouldn’t invite you inside, but he does anyways.

“Bird,” He sighed, “Told you to stay home.”

“I know,” You shivered, petting Churro with a wet palm, “But I felt guilty. I know you don’t want Churro here and we’re just inconveniencing you.”

“Not an inconvenience, I don’t mind doing it for you,” He grumbled, “Stay right here. You’re not going back until the storm stops.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, mouth parting slightly, but he doesn’t give you time to respond, leaving you standing there in shock before bringing back dry clothes for you, a black sweater, and gray sweats.

“Here,” He grunted, handing you the clothes, “You can change in my bathroom.”

“Oh no! It’s okay, I can just go home,” You argued, attempting to push the clothes back in his grasp.

Simon levels you with a sharp look, makes you pull the clothes to your chest because he won’t take no as an answer for your safety.

“Okay, yeah,” You nod your head, “Yeah.”

He makes tea on the stove while waiting for you, Churro jumps on the counter in the meantime, with a soft chirp, plopping her way over to rub her body against his forearm.

“Oy, be careful,” He chastises, pushing her away, “Stove’s bloody hot.”

“So you do care about her!”

Simon turns around to find you standing in the doorway of his kitchen. There’s a smug look on your face, but he doesn’t focus on that, can’t focus on anything other than how you look in his clothes. You swim in the material, sweater sleeves hiding your hands completely, sweats pooling at your sock-clad feet. He has to pinch the inside of his cheek to hide his smile at the sight.

It’s cute. Endearing. Makes his teeth ache in his mouth, fingers twitching against the pot on the stove in a strangely possessive way. He doesn’t even care that he’s been caught caring for the damn pest when something warms curls in his chest.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lies.

You laugh, padding your way over to his side, “Oh, whatever. Now I know why she keeps coming over here to see you.”

“And why’s that? I can’t for the life of me figure out why she won’t stop botherin’ me.”

“Maybe she has a crush on you,” You joke, cupping Churro’s face in your palms, “Huh, pretty lady? Do you have a crush on the big scary man?”

He snorts, “Not likely.”

You lean towards him as he hands you a cup of tea, “Maybe she thinks you’re her dad.”

Simon stares at you a little dumbfounded, watches you turn to talk to Churro again, asking if she thinks Simon is her dad. He tries to submerge the overwhelming feeling underwater, drown it, and wash away the insinuation, but it’s almost impossible when you’re adorned in his clothes, oversized fabric hanging off your smaller frame.

Excuses himself by clearing his throat, throwing your soaked clothes in the dryer to distract himself from the drowning.

The storm lasts for a little while, so you sit on his couch with Churro curled in your lap, purring quietly to sleep. Simon tries to scavenge a meal for you, but he doesn’t have much in his fridge, wishes this was planned, so he could cook you something worth eating. You don’t mind, shushing him when he apologizes with an assortment of snacks on a tray, giggling softly at his poor attempt to feed you.

“It’s okay,” You reassure, smiling pleased at him, “I’m not really hungry anyways. Next time we can prepare more.”

Yeah, next time.

When the storm relents, the two of you are preoccupied, finishing a movie you wanted to watch. Some rom-com, he doesn’t entirely know, can’t focus much when he’s sitting next to you on his couch. There’s a measly cushion separating the two of you, sitting on either end of the couch, but it still claws at the back of his mind no matter how much he tries to rationalize it.

In his home. Sat on his couch. Wearing his clothes.

He tries not to be greedy, claim you as his own, but it only gets worse when you pull your feet up, leaning your head against the back of the cushion, snuggling deeper into his couch, and making yourself comfortable. He’s sure you don’t even realize that the storm ended or when you turn towards him and ask if he liked the movie.

He doesn’t mind that you stayed after the rain stopped, doesn’t even mind that Churro made her way to his lap halfway through the rom-com. You don’t point it out either, just flicker your eyes with a knowing smile.

Did he like the movie? He honestly can’t recall a single line.

@lighthousebats @cococococ @sai-int @tessakate @starboykel @imrandomstuffsblog @your-internet-tenshi @glossy01 @orangegreensun @uriahs-barn @ye-olde-trash-panda @akkahelenaa

thank you to my sweet @bunnybeaches for the cat name ‘Churro.’ 🐇🤍

[apatheticsunday]

Villainous Woes

AKA "Inspired by that one post where Danny is adopted by a B-rate villain (like Kite-Man) except it's Harley & Poison Ivy and they love their little Eldritch toddler" prompt! And the Batfam side-eyeing the hell out of the women because what was that??

There's just so much potential!!

Maybe Harley's collaborating with Batman and Nightwing to take down Joker, they're in the Batmobile while driving to his potential hideout. Harley's in the front with Batman because, surprise, they're both catty and Harley likes to rib Bruce for dropping out of med school. Meanwhile, he makes snarky comments about her becoming a 'reformed' criminal. And then her phone starts the muffled choir of the Barbie theme song. She's like, "Hi, baby!! Hi, sweetheart!!" Batman and Nightwing then hear, clear as day, this unholy screeching like eighteen kazoos in various pitches.

Harley just laughs and says fondly, "Oh, are you tired, baby?? Mommy will be home soon, honey. " There's more screeching until Harley makes kissy noises at the phone and hangs up. Batman's face is deadpan as ever but Nightwing's face is pale.

"Oh, Danny's just a little tired. He gets grumpy if I don't read him bedtime stories." She shrugs as if to say kids, amirite? and Batman offers a grunt while Nightwing laughs weakly in the back. Once they're back at the Batcave, Dick is like, Bruce, what the hell was that?? A demon baby??

Or the time Poison Ivy is fighting Red Robin and Spoiler!! She's got them tied up with vines, monologuing about that one CEO about to dump 80k gallons of toxic waste into the Gotham Harbor, when Eric Satie's Gymnopedie No. 1 rings out from her pocket. She excuses herself for a moment, but Red Robin and Spoiler can still hear her say softly, "Yes, my love? I see. Of course, sweet boy. I love you as well." Then Ivy hangs up. Turns back to the vigilantes and says, "I apologize. My son is feeling unwell, so we'll continue our conversation at a later time." Batman finds them two hours later talking amongst themselves, did you know Ivy has a son?? Is it Harley and Ivy's son??

And when Selina Kyle comes over for a girls' night, she's met with wine, charcuterie, and a shrieking writhing mass of bright green tentacles.

"Danny's just hangry," Harley assures her. She's got The Thing in her arms and disappears into the kitchen while Ivy's setting up a horror movie on the TV. Sure enough, the screaming petters off. When Harley comes back, there's an actual toddler in her arms - chubby arms and legs intact. Overall, it's an uneventful night. Danny turns into goop at one point but Ivy just scoops him up into a bucket-like cradle. Selina does, however, call Bruce on the way home saying, Harley and Ivy have a goop baby. Yes, Bruce, goop!

Fast-forward maybe 15-18 years and Danny (former Goop Baby) is now in college because both his moms have Doctorate degrees. They empathize the importance of getting a good education, of exploring his academic interests, without being part of the Gotham Rogue gallery. So, he never actually meets any of the Batfam.

But then Danny meets (Robin) Damian, who's attending Gotham-U as a pre-med major. They hit it off! Danny ends up attending a family dinner with Bruce, Selina, Dick, Tim, and Damian. (Maybe Jason, Duke, Steph, Cass, and Babs are busy doing other stuff.) So, Bruce is interrogating conversing with Danny and Danny's like, "Oh! My mom talks about you sometimes."

And Bruce is all cordial, smiling and prompting, "Oh?"

"Yeah, my moms are Dr. Harleen Quinzel and Dr. Pamela Isley."

Tim splutters into his drink as he chokes out, "Goop baby??" (he'd been stalking Bruce when Selina talked about her girl's night) while Dick simultaneously shouts, "Demon baby???" Danny's confused because he's literally never met any of these people? And they're calling him goop and a demon??

(Bruce just feels very, very old. The Goop Baby is all grown up and going to college with his baby? Jesus. Just the thought makes all his joints ache.)

[monstersholygrail]

As part of his job duties, Demon Guard often walked around the offices as a sort of patrol. Of course, he often used this as an excuse to just fuck around or to actually fuck. But for some reason that day he found himself actually walking further along his route than usual.

And that’s when he heard you in the break room.

“I swear, I’d sell my soul to fuck Demon Guard just once!”

Followed by you and whatever coworker you were talking to bursting out into a fit of scandalized laughter.

Something old and buried flickers back to life inside of Demon Guard. His long reptilian tongue slithers out as he licks his lips, a smirk spreading across his face. With only a few steps forward he makes himself known, walking up behind you and leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“I haven’t dealt souls in a long time, sweetheart, but for you I can give it a shot,” he purrs, relishing in the way you shiver against him.

You honestly don’t know how to respond, your face more red than a tomato. Unable to fully believe that he’s right behind you and heard what you said. You’re still pretty stuck frozen when he takes your hand and drags you out of the break room.

When you come to you realize he’s brought you to the camera room full of the security cameras. You barely have a moment to look around before Demon Guard’s mouth is on yours and he’s kissing the daylights out of ya. His tongue licks along your seam and you gasp, allowing him to slide right in.

You moan around his long narrow tongue, your own swirling around his in your need to finally taste him. You almost can’t believe this is happening. You’ve imagined this a million different times, touched yourself in so many ways. Now that it’s finally happening you expect to wake up at any second. But this is real. You voiced your desire out into the world and he heard it.

“Now here’s the bargain, sweetheart. If you don’t cum for me at least seven times, you have to give me your soul,” he starts, his voice raspy and addictive. You could listen to it forever.

He starts walking you back and the moment your ass hits the control panel he’s picking you up and plopping you down right on top of it. His eyes don’t leave yours as he pushes your skirt up to your waist and tugs your panties down.

Next his hands go to his unbuckle and he slides his pants down enough to free his enormous cock, though his gaze refuses to let you look away. He steps closer and pushes his tip through your soaked folds, growling as he sees just how wet and needy you are for him. As if your desperate panting and bucking hips wasn’t evidence enough.

“And if I can’t make you cum at least ten then I will bind myself to you for eternity to use as you see fit,” he finishes with a cocky smirk like he’s just composed the worlds greatest bargain and he’s so very proud of himself for it.

And you know, maybe he has.

Without waiting for the verbal bargain to be struck, like he knows it’s an offer you just can’t refuse, he slams his cock inside you in one smooth stroke. You cry out but you can tell he’s not satisfied with it, as if the stretch of his cock isn’t making your mind burst with unknown euphoria, and he starts in at a brutal pace.

His tail wraps around your waist, keeping you right where he wants you as he relentlessly runs his length up inside you. Not giving you a moment to catch your breath. Even as he hits every perfect spot along your walls he doesn’t wait to tease or savor. No, instead he focuses on ramming into them all over and over again. Each sensation crashing into one another until your body is buzzing with an overwhelming sensation of pleasure like you’ve never known.

Demon Guard watches you happily as you arch into him but with a direct intent. A certain intensity simmering in his gaze despite his dopey smile and light demeanor. Like he can see precisely just how close you are to the edge. His thrusts remaining so wildly consistent you have to stare at him in awe. The goal clearly to send you hurtling into your first of many orgasms.

He flashes you that cocky little smirk again like he knows exactly what you’re thinking. A loud moan falls past your lips as in that exact moment his hand slips between your bodies, finding your clit with alarming ease and rolling the bud of nerves so perfectly between his clawed fingers.

Your vision flashes white and you scream fiercely as you shatter around his cock. Your precious cunt squeezing the very life out of him if he had one. Demon Guard roars, literally roars, at the explosive friction of you clamping down on him. Yet he refuses to cum just yet, wanting to edge himself with the feel of you.

Though he holds you as you shake in his arms, helping you work through it. And when you finally clear the spots from your eyesight you’re quick to find him, already looking down at you. Wanting to catch every little reaction. Your pussy flutters as that smirk remains firmly on his face.

“One down, sweets. Six and Nine to go,” he explains, a wickedly playful expression flashing over his face so quickly you wonder if it was real or if you were only seeing things…

You’ve only had one orgasm so far. Something tells you by the end of the day you’ll be so delirious with pleasure you won’t be able to tell up from down.

[invincibledc]

“Just a little guy…”

RACCOON!READER X slighty yandere? ROBINS!BATBOYS

Summary: a little rascal comes into in a bunch of boy’s lives. 

There you are, hissing at some kids that are teens to pre teens. “Standing” on all four of your human limbs with your raccoon tail and ears perked up.

Apparently, the 14 year old Damian took you from the dumpster and showed you to the others who apparently screamed seeing a young hybrid of a human and raccoon.

You screamed back before scratching Damian. The brown skinned boy let you go as you ran around messing up the manor up.

Damian looked at the scratch in admiration. You scratched him but he took as you just showing affection as he rushed after you. “Come back!! I wanna pet you!” “Dames no!” Dick(17) yells as he rushes after his younger brother.

Tim(15) and Jason(16) look at each other before running off towards the other two and some crazed child.

Damian was giggling manically as dick was hot on his tail while praying that Alfred doesn’t come around the corner. You started to hop around as you ran into the kitchen and climbed the counter with a bit of effort.

“No! Get down you.. whatever you are!” Dick says yelling at you. You hiss as you swat with your sharp nail like claws. “Me no! Me rule!” You said in weird phrases. Damian bull rushed dick to fall on the ground as he puts his hand out. “Don’t worry about him. Come to me!”

You glare with your ears a little flat against your head. “No.”

Damian frowns as Tim and Jason come into the kitchen. “Yo! Get your stinky ass feet off the counter you homeless little shit!” Jason yells, pointing at you who hisses at him. Jason scrunches up his face and rolls his sleeves.

“Guess we’re doin' this the hard way.” Tim just pats Jason’s back as comfort. “Get em.” As this was going on, Dick finally gets up rubbing his head with a concerned expression. “Be careful, it may have rabies.”

You glare at those tan arms of Jason’s with small scars. You didn’t like how close he was getting to you. Damian was glaring at Jason, daring him to make the slightest aggression towards you.

Before you could jump off the counter and dash off, Jason grabbed you into his arms. “Gotcha!” “No! No! Unhand me! Hand off! Handsss!!!” You screeched as you try to claw at him. He used one arm to hold you down while his other was using his hands to cuff your wrists down.

“Phew..” dick says clutching his shirt as Tim could only take a picture of this. “This.. was an eventful afternoon.” Jason turns around smug, happy to hold you down. “Hah! And this little one thought it could just mess with us.” Damian scrunches his nose. “Hey! Be careful with them…” as Damian goes to walk towards you. Dick puts a stern hold onto his shoulder.

“Damian, you need to stop bringing in animals. YKNOW how dad is.” Damian rolls his eyes before crossing his hands. “That’s not an animal, that’s a potential friend in the making.” Dick and Damian look at you still going ape shit in the tanned teen’s arms.

“Yeah no, it looks like you kidnapped a furry kid from the streets.” Tim says as Damian glares at him. “Actually from a dumpster for your knowledge.” “That’s not better you demon.”

After calming you down, you were cleaned by Damian and given a big shirt from Jason. You sat on the couch eating crackers, kicking your feet back and forth. You smiled while munching on the delicious crackers with slight salt on it. The four boys look at you before looking at each other.

“We can’t just keep them here!” Dick says

“Why not!?” Damian exclaimed, gritting his teeth.

“Uh hello, they’re some random meta.. or whatever they are… plus dad wouldn’t let Damian keep another 'pet' unless he wants to be grounded.” Tim says as he stares at Damian then to dick.

“Right.” Jason says lastly.

As the four brothers turn to look at you, they can’t help but stare at how adorable you are. You lick your small hands with a small smile, rubbing your belly and looking at them as if you didn’t just want to claw their eyes out.

“…okay maybe we can keep them.” Dick says with soft eyes. You looked so cute with those soft chubby cheeks. Looking better without that much dirt on your face and that angry stare for the past minutes of chasing you.

“I call dibs on clothing them!” Damian says as Tim nudges him. “We’re not callin dib—”

“I call dibs on feeding them.” Jason says nonchalantly, putting his hands into his pockets. Tim looks at his older brother in shock as Jason just shrugs.

“What? The rascal is actually cute when it’s not trying to claw our eyes out.”

Tim sighs as dick could only chuckle. “I guess… i call dibs on their speech impediment…”

Dick pats Tim who is slightly flustered as he crosses his arms. “Then i suppose im the one that calls dibs on hiding them and having them in my room.” Dick says with a smile.

The other three erupted in yells.

“That’s not fair!! I found them first!”

“Just cause you’re the oldest doesn’t mean shit!”

“Over our dead bodies!”

You can guess who said who as you just wiggled off the couch and walked over to them. The big shirt making your walking a little wonky as you looked at the black haired boys and pull on the one with the fringe.

“M-Mo-more. More.” You said as you pulled his shirt and point to your mouth. Tim turns to look at you, for a second he felt an arrow hit through his heart before he picked you up and ran.

Seeing this, the other three boys stared flabbergasted before Damian yells pointing out.

“He’s getting away!!!!”

Jason smirks and runs, “First one to get them back lets them room with them!” He yells as he was on the go.

Dick and Damian were running as well.. and the chase was on.

[scribes-of-valar]

𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝐴𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐵𝑜𝑦

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| ᴄʟᴀʀᴋ ᴋᴇɴᴛ x fem! reader

A/N: I watched maybe two seasons of this show last year and kind of moved past it. I randomly got a Clark Kent fic on my feed last night and suddenly I have a demon in my brain telling me to write. Anyway, there is a horrendous lack of full fledged, non-smut fics for this man, so, here you go.

Summary: Your friend has been distant for months, all of a sudden he's a brand new man. He's practically a puppy dog following after you and you're not sure how to feel. What's a girl to do when she suddenly finds herself looking at not one, but two Clark Kent's?

“Have any plans?” You pull your English book from your locker, fingers stilling as you wait for Clark to respond. Silence stretches between you, long enough to make your brows furrow in confusion. Peering around the edge of your locker door with narrowed eyes, you let out a sigh. 

You should have seen this coming. As always, Clark is staring at Lana from across the hall, looking like he walked straight out of a sappy romance movie. 

She’s close, so close, but entirely out of his reach. She laughs, tucking a perfect, shiny strand of hair behind her ear, completely unaware of the way Clark pines for her. Always pining. Always looking at her like she’s the only girl in the world. 

You could gag. 

Slamming your locker shut, perhaps harder than necessary, you break Clark out of his trance as he flinches away from the noise. His head snaps toward you, blue eyes narrowed on the irritated scrunch of your face. You smile, forcing the snark out of your expression. 

“Did you say something?” His voice is kind, expression open, as though he’s finally ready to listen. But the bell rings, cutting into the moment. You only have a minute to sprint to the other side of school. 

“No,” you sigh, forcing the stilted smile to stay on your face, “I gotta go.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he offers, falling into step beside you. “That way you can tell me what you actually said,” he teases, giving you that familiar boyish grin that never fails to make you unravel. 

You bite your tongue for a moment, mind unraveling as you struggle with telling him the truth or not. This is stupid. He’s Clark, your best friend. Your stupid, oblivious, beautiful best friend. But the way he looks at you, soft and warm as he slows his stride so he can walk together a little longer. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask. 

No. It will definitely still hurt. 

“Would you want to do something this weekend?” You rush it all out at once and immediately look away from him, terrified by what you might see on his face. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then Clark laughs, light and easy. Your stomach twists and your head shoots up, a disbelieving glare on your face. You’d known it would be unlikely that he’d return your feelings, but laughing seems below him. 

“Why’re you being so weird?” He shakes his head, still grinning. “We’ll just do a movie night like always.” He squeezes your shoulder, casual, friendly, a wholly innocent gesture. Nothing more and nothing different. It’s completely platonic to him, as it always is. It takes you a moment to realize that he took what you were saying the wrong way. Or, maybe this is just the gentlest way he knows how to let you down. 

“Right,” you struggle to keep your voice even but it doesn’t matter, the dejection slips through your tone. His smile falters slightly and he looks like he wants to say something when the shrill ring of the bell interrupts you both.

“I’ll see you later,” he offers but he sounds uncertain. Most of your plans have fallen through lately. Either because he was busy with Lana or off disappearing somewhere. You’re not sure, but you know the divide is growing larger between you both and you’re getting scared you’re going to lose him. 

“Sure,” you give him a flat smile and he hovers beside you for a moment, like he wants to fix this but doesn’t know how. 

“You’re going to be late,” you startle slightly and glance over your shoulder. Blake, a boy you share your English class with offers you a shy smile as he hovers by the door, holding it open for you to walk through.  

“Thanks,” you walk past them both and into class, not wanting to look at Clark any longer. You miss the sharp look Blake shoots Clark and the way your friend lingers by the door for a minute before rushing off to his own class. 

You slide into your seat, lucky to have gotten in before Mrs. Brown, lord knows she would love to make a spectacle of anyone being tardy. Blake follows not far behind you, slipping into the seat beside you as always. He’s nice enough, quiet, unassuming. You’ve never said more than a few words to each other, but right now all of his attention seems to be on you. 

He whispers your name and you give him a brief glance and smile, mind still wrapped up in Clark. “Um, I was going to ask,” he stutters over his words for a moment, swallowing thickly before finally meeting your eye. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“Yeah,” you answer absentmindedly. “I have plans with Clark,” you tell him shortly as Mrs. Brown walks in. You don’t have time to explain that you’ll probably just end up waiting around your house all weekend. Just to get a brief and incomprehensible explanation of why you were all alone on Monday. 

He sinks back in his seat with a sigh just as the teacher begins writing the assignment on the board. You shoot him a slightly concerned look before brushing the interaction off as nothing.

Standing in the line at The Talon has become almost a hobby for you. Not just because Clark drags you here constantly, but because he distracts Lana from actually taking any orders. The wait time seems to triple every time he walks into the shop. You hear people grumbling behind you and finally move toward Clark, breaking the unspoken rule of leaving him and Lana alone. 

“There’s a line, Clark,” you sing-song, warning him. The both of them flush, breaking their hushed conversation and shooting you a sheepish look. 

“I’m sorry,” Lana apologizes and you wave her off. “Do you want anything?” 

You’d been considering getting a muffin, but when you look over and see the lovesick smile Clark is giving her, you find your appetite has disappeared. “Uh, no, I’m good.”

Clark turns toward you with a soft frown and he nearly makes you forget just how much you resent him for dragging you along to see this. “I thought you were hungry.”

You glance back at Lana and find her eyes already on him. God, what’s the point of a breakup if you’re still obsessed with each other? “No, it’s alright.”

You move away from the counter to step outside, expecting him to stay there and continue flirting despite the angry customers behind them. You’re surprised when you hear his voice immediately beside you. 

“Hey,” he moves away from the door, a grin on his face. Face wrinkling in confusion, you nod your head in greeting even though you’d just seen him. Your eyes narrow in on the leather of his jacket and your head tilts in confusion. You swear he was wearing a zip up a moment ago. “What’re you doing?” He asks, tone light as he stands beside you closer than he normally would. 

“Uh,” you’re tempted to glance over your shoulder and make sure he isn’t still standing in The Talon. “Did you hit your head?” He flushes slightly and you laugh. “Just our usual friday endeavors, you moon over Lana and I hold back the mob of angry customers who just want a coffee.” Laughing to ease some of your own tension, it trails off when you see the smile drop from his face. 

His eyes narrow and he glances toward the shop, “Idiot,” he mutters. You shoot him an affronted look and he blanches, quickly correcting himself. “Me, not you.” You want to question him further but he slings an arm over your shoulder and redirects you away from the shop. Mind a blank slate, you feel your brain break slightly at the simple touch. 

When you were younger, before Lana, before either of you even knew what crushes were, something like this would mean nothing to you. As it is, though, your friendship seems to have dwindled to nothing but compulsory hangouts and the occasional conversation in the hallway. Something as simple as his arm around you has turned into everything for you. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?” 

“Movies at your place, like usual,” you remind him. He must have slipped and hit his head on the way out of The Talon.  Either that, or he already forgot the plans you made just this morning. Neither would surprise you. 

His face screws up and he shakes his head, “God, that’s lame.” You scoff, shooting him an odd look, not bothering to remind him that it was his idea. “I mean what’s he-” 

Clark cuts himself off, glancing down at you before letting out a short laugh. “How ‘bout the fair?”

You reach up and press the back of your hand to his forehead. He gives you a bewildered laugh, taking your hand in his and grinning. “What are you doing?”

You lean back slightly, breathless at the awestruck way he’s looking at you. You’ve only ever seen him look at…

Lana, you’ve only ever seen a look like this directed at Lana. But now, those deep blue eyes are pulling you in and you feel helpless to fight them. You swallow hard, blinking while you try to remember what you were even going to say. 

“Uh,” licking your lips you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement. “I was seeing if you had a fever. Since when do you want to go out?” 

He laces your fingers together and tugs you forward, “Since now.” 

Usually, you’re not so quick to look a gift horse in the mouth. Months, you’ve been praying he treats you with even a semblance of care he throws toward Lana. Now, you finally get it and you can’t help the sick tightening feeling in your stomach telling you this is all wrong.

The fair is less crowded than you had expected. Though, it is nearly the last day it’s in town, you suppose everyone’s already had their fill of it. You have been trying to get Clark to come with you for nearly a week, maybe this is why he had waited so long to join you. Some of the rides you actually got all to yourself. 

“You know these things are rigged,” you tease, watching as he tries and fails at the bottle toss for the third time. The bored teenage girl behind the booth briefly glances up from her book to glare at you both. You shoot her a sardonic smile and she turns to Clark. 

“You can just buy the stuffed animal, ya know?” She drawls. 

“That’s cheating-”

“Where’s the fun in that-”

You and Clark share a grin as you speak over each other. The girl pales at your joined voices and returns quickly to her book, muttering something about annoying couples. 

Your stomach flutters at the idea of you and Clark as a couple but you push it down. “Alright,” Clark chuckles and holds his arm out for you, “let’s get out of here.”

You slip your arm through his easily, smiling up at him. You’ve long since stopped questioning just how touchy he is. Clearly, he’s in a generous mood tonight and you feel like taking advantage of that as much as possible.

“Where to next?” He asks and your eyes crawl across the fairground, struggling to find something you haven’t already done. 

You toss what must be your third lemonade in the closest bin and shoot him a sheepish smile. “I think I’ll need to go to the bathroom before we do any more rides.”

He’s slow to let you go, hand drifting down to hold yours as he steps back. “I’ll wait by the ferris wheel,” he tells you lowly. 

Your cheeks flush, eyes widening slightly as you slip away from him. The ferris wheel is notorious among Smallville students as the place to make a move. Everyone knows it’s just couples that ride up in those rickety old cars. Still, Clark is slightly oblivious to stuff like that. You don’t want to get your hopes up just for it to ultimately be nothing more than a friendly outing. 

Rushing toward the sad group of Port-a-potties you let out an annoyed sigh when you see the long line awaiting you. Your foot bounces against the dirt impatiently as you peer around the girl in front of you just to see there has to be, at least, ten people before you. 

There’s a vibration in your pocket before you hear the shrill ringing of your Nokia. Digging it out of your jeans you answer without checking the contact. “Hello?” The girl in front of you shoots you a dirty look and you take a step back from her. 

“Hey, where’re you?” You frown at the sound of Clark’s voice, glancing around like you might be able to spot him in the crowd. You’d told him where you were going, why would he be calling?

“You know where I am,” you tell him, chuckling. 

There’s a slight huff on the other end and you frown, he almost sounds disappointed. “What are you talking about? We were supposed to watch movies tonight.”

“Okay, Clark, I’m officially concerned. You’ve been acting weird all day. We’re at the fair,” you say slowly, over-enunciating your words like he’s slow. “You said movies were going to be lame.”

There’s a long pause and he utters your name in a concerningly serious tone. “The person you’re with-”

“Alright, do you mind?” The girl in front of you whips around and snaps at you. Blanching, you lower the phone from your ear and she shoots you an incredibly dirty look. 

“Clark, I’ll see you in a few minutes,” you whisper into the phone. 

“Wait-” 

You cut him off, hanging up and shoving your phone in your back pocket. She turns back around and rolls her eyes. It doesn’t take long for your Nokia to start ringing again but you figure you’ll just meet Clark by the ferris wheel like he said. 

Low groaning drifts through the noises of the crowd and makes you pause. Tilting your head around the corner of a trailer, the sounds only grow louder. Everything inside you says not to investigate, but the person sounds like they’re genuinely in pain. You can’t just walk away. 

“Hey,” you call out softly. “Are you okay?”

There’s no response and you take a hesitant step closer. A scuffed white converse slips from behind the back of the trailer and it looks worryingly similar to Clark’s. “Clark?” You call out, creeping a little further into the dark. 

It’s like a cocoon of silence back here, as though the shadows swallow the voices and loud cheering sounds of the games beyond you. “No,” the small voice croaks out. You see a hand in the dirt and they begin dragging themselves forward. You jump back a step, heart picking up as you watch them get to their feet. 

This was a stupid idea, walking toward a stranger in the dark. Even in Smallville you couldn’t trust everyone. They finally turn and you let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, Blake, hey.”

He gives you a weak grimace, clutching his stomach like he’s in pain. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” You ask, taking a step closer to him, trying to get a better look. 

“Fine, fine,” he stutters out, shifting just enough to keep his face half-hidden in the shadows.  Even knowing the person lurking within the shadows, you still feel slightly on edge. Something about the way he moves unsettles you. It’s not as though you know him well, he’s just a classmate. Someone quiet and harmless. Or, you hope he’s harmless, right now there’s something about him that feels wrong.

“Alright, um, if you’re sure,” you take a careful step backward. Your foot’s barely back on the ground when he lunges forward. His hands stretch toward you like he’s about to snatch you into the shadows with him. You’re stuck deciding whether you’re going to scream or bite him when he jerks back like a puppet being yanked on a string.  

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurts out, breathless. “Clark walked by. He- he told me to tell you he was leaving.”

Your stomach twists with panic. Right now you care more about not getting your throat slit in a dark alley than you do about Clark ditching you. Without a second thought, you turn on your heel and run out from between the trailers. You swear you hear footsteps, quick and light, following your path to the cars. 

Sliding into your car, you lock your doors and peel out of the lot. You leave the fair, and whatever just happened, behind, not looking back. The phone in your pocket vibrates again but you ignore it, too freaked out by what just happened to bother answering.  

Someone calls your name and you peer around the edge of your locker door, grimacing when you see Blake walking toward you. His brown hair is a mess, like he’s been fussing with it all morning, and his thick glasses, normally perched precariously on his nose, are nowhere to be seen. His normal polished clothes look like they’re three sizes too big and you frown.  

“Hey,” you drag the word out, trying to sound polite even if his outburst last night left you feeling incredibly unsettled. “Feeling any better?” You hesitate to meet his eyes, and when you do, your annoyance only deepens. 

He’s watching you expectantly, like he’s waiting for something. 

“Did you need anything?” You ask, voice trailing off as you close your locker and take two deliberate steps back. 

Blake’s brows furrow and he almost looks hurt before his expression smooths over into something startling unreadable. “Um, no, I’m sorry,” his gaze drifts past you. The color drains from his face and you barely have a second to process the oddity of this conversation before he turns on his heel and goes barrelling down the hall.

“Hey,” Clark’s familiar voice cuts through your confusion, and you turn to see him striding toward you. Gone is the easy, playful grin he wore last night. He looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, intent on something. “We need to talk,” he tells you, tone grave. 

“I know,” you snipe, not bothering to hide your irritation at just leaving you alone at the fair last night. You aren’t surprised, he’s been doing that for weeks now. What stings is that, for a little while, you had felt like you were actually friends again, only for him to ruin it. 

His brow furrows and he glances around the empty hallway with a frown. “Look, we can’t talk here, but-”

The warning bell rings, cutting him off. “Shit,” you mutter, shoving your books into your bag and turning away from Clark. He calls your name but you wave him off. “Later, Clark, I can’t be late again.” He watches you go with a frown, running a hand through his hair before turning toward his own class. 

Not even ten minutes later you spot him walking past Mrs. Brown’s room. Though, you swear he was wearing a red shirt not a green one. You could be wrong, it’s not as if you had long to take in his outfit.

You figure he’s just passing by and go back to taking your notes. There’s a light hiss from the door and you frown, looking up to see him hovering in the doorway and waving you forward. You glare toward Mrs. Brown’s back and shake your head. No way, you mouth. 

Clark gives you a pleading look, frowning and motioning you forward again. You know that look, you’ve been on the receiving end of it for years now. He’s clearly not going to let go of whatever  he was badgering you about this morning. 

“Can I go to the bathroom?” You call out, not bothering raising your hand. The old bat’s half-blind, you doubt she’d see it anyway. 

She answers without even bothering to turn around and face you. “If you need to use the restroom, you do so before my class,” her shaky voice calls out with a huff. 

You roll your eyes and grab your bag, stuffing your books in it as she turns back to the board. There’s no point in arguing with her, she’s never going to give in. You wait until she drops her eraser. The second she bends over to grab it, you’re bolting toward the door. Clark grabs your arm, dragging you behind him.

He makes a break for the end of the hall, blowing past the geometry class he’s meant to be in. He busts through the school doors and leads you quickly through the courtyard. “Clark,” you hiss, trying to hold back a laugh at the stupid grin on his face. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes alight with mischief, “Come on, you can’t tell me you actually want to listen to her rambling on about Shakespeare for an hour.”

You can’t argue with that, but he hasn’t done a jail bust for you in a while. Especially not during one of the few classes he shares with Lana. “No, I didn’t,” you pause as you realize he’s leading you to your car and not his truck. “Am I driving?”

“Truck didn’t start this morning,” he tells you shortly, not bothering with any further explanation. You swear you saw him drive in this morning but you could be wrong. It’s not like he’s the only kid driving his dad’s old busted truck in this town. “I’ll drive, though, you won’t know where we’re going.”

“Ominous,” you snark as he takes your hand in his, directing you toward the passenger door. Gentle hands push you up against the side of the car and he ducks down, leaning into your space. You crane your neck up, flushing slightly at the proximity. Any closer and you could kiss him. 

“Well?” He questions softly, lips curling up in a half-smile that makes you want to melt. You blink, forgetting what you were doing before you notice his outstretched, open, palm. Swallowing thickly you take your keys out of your bag and place them in his hand. “Thanks,” he ducks down, soft lips pressed against your cheek before rounding the front of the car. 

Your hand drifts toward your cheek, a bewildered smile on your face as you try and regulate your breathing. “What the hell?” You mutter, shaking your head slightly. Turning around, you open the car door and slip into the passenger seat. 

Clark greets you with a grin, scooping your hand up in his as he pulls out of the school parking lot. You don’t want to think about the trouble you’re going to be in tomorrow, all you can focus on is how good Clark’s hand feels in yours. 

“I’m really starting to feel like I’m getting kidnapped,” you joke, head tilting to look out the window. The golden fields stretch endlessly, rolling past in waves as the car gets further from town. Houses become scarce, replaced by sprawling farmland and grazing cattle. The further you go, the more isolated you feel. 

Clark chuckles, but there’s something off about the sound, a slight wheeze, a strain where there wasn’t before. His face crumples and he turns away from you, his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel from his tight grip. 

“Are you okay?” You reach instinctively toward him but he jerks his hand back. You gasp, jumping back when you catch a glimpse of his face. It ripples, the skin shifting unnaturally, as if something beneath it is struggling to break free. 

“Oh no,” Clark groans, voice strained. His entire body spasms and his hands slip from the wheel. The car lurches violently to the side, tires screeching against the pavement. Panic surges through you, hands bracing against the door as you shout his name. 

He curls into himself, muscles seizing, leaving the car veering out of control. The telephone pole ahead rushes toward you, growing larger by the second. You throw yourself forward, grasping at the wheel, desperately trying to steer, but Clark’s foot slams against the gas instead of the brake. 

Everything happens too fast. A blur flashes in front of the windshield. Then, a sudden stop. Your body flies forward, arms bracing against the dashboard as your head whips forward and back, pain rattling through your spine. 

You whine in discomfort, slowly sitting up and trying to take in your surroundings. The passenger door is ripped open. You flinch, recoiling instinctively and sending a shock of pain down your body. Your breath stutters as someone ducks their head inside, a startling familiar pair of blue eyes find yours.  

“Clark?” You whisper, gaze flicking to the seat beside you where Clark still sits, doubled over, his breathing ragged. 

The Clark outside the car reaches in and gently pulls you out. Warm, calloused hands skate carefully over your arms and shoulders. He cups the back of your neck, tilting your head up, thumbs gently smoothing over your jaw as he looks you over. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” His voice is soft, thick with concern. His eyes briefly leave yours to double check you for any injuries he might have missed. 

Your heart pounds. This isn’t possible. You must be concussed. You blink rapidly still struggling to wrap your head around the whole two Clark’s thing when the second one stumbles out of the car. 

He steps are uneven as he rounds the fender, his entire body shaking. Your rescuer moves swiftly, placing himself between you and the other Clark. He shields you, broad shoulders tense, protective to a fault. Must be the real one. Right? You rub your aching head and frown. 

“What were you going to do with her?” The one in front of you barks the question out, his voice sharp and edged with something dangerous.

“I just,” the other one keels over, cutting himself off with a pained groan and shaking his head. “Wanted to get away,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forcing himself straight again. 

“And you had to take her with you?”

“What’s going on?” You jut in, stepping back from both of them. Facing them, you see the same wounded expression reflected on both faces. Whichever is the fake, he’s certainly mastered the puppy dog look. 

Your rescuer tries to take a step forward but you throw your hand up, keeping them both at bay until you know what’s going on. He sighs and glances over at his shoulder at the other one.  “How long have you been able to do this?” 

It's like they start a conversation in the middle and you’re completely lost.  “Last year, I never saw a use for it and it was too much of a pain. But then I realized,” he looks at you, face contorting. “You would never go for a guy like me. You couldn’t. You were too wrapped up in him,” he spits the word out with venom, nodding toward the Clark you know has to be the real one. 

“You love him and that stupid all-American smile.” He chuckles, but it breaks off into a groan as he doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach. He drops to his knees and moans through clenched teeth, clutching at his face as he folds over. The longer black hair shrinks to a dull brown, broad shoulders slimming as the clothes he wears hang loose on him.

The illusion shatters, “Oh, God, Blake?” You gasp out, taking one step toward him. He shakes his head and you stop as Clark grabs your elbow. You glance up at him but he just shoots you a soft look that has you rooted to the spot. 

“I’ve been in love with you since freshman year,” Blake chuckles, still sounding like every word hurts. “If only I figured it out earlier, it’s always going to be him. I never had a chance, did I?” His gaze flickers toward Clark before he collapses to the pavement. 

You both go running toward Blake. Pressing your trembling fingers to his neck, you let out a sigh of relief when you feel his faint heartbeat. 

“We need to get him to a hospital, fast.” You lean back from Blake, looking around for Clark’s truck, confused when you don’t see it. “Dammit, Clark, where's the truck?”

He flushes, shaking his head, “I didn’t bring it.”

You frown, “What’re you talking about?” 

He glances toward Blake, the rise and fall of his chest steadily slowing. When he looks back at you his expression is unreadable, an intensity to it that you’ve never seen before. “I need you to trust me.”

“Always,” you tell him without missing a beat. He gives you a small smile but it lacks the usual warmth. 

“Close your eyes.”

“What?” You glare at him but he just shakes his head. 

“Please,” he looks close to begging and the pulse under your grip is getting weaker. Swallowing down your confusion you close your eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers, “I’ll be back.”

You frown, feeling a rough breeze blow back your hair as your eyes shoot open. But the spot in front of you is empty and the body under your hand has disappeared. Getting to your feet, you spin in one slow circle. There’s nothing out here except golden fields, your totaled car, and you. All alone. 

Clark eventually came back for you. His truck rolling into view after being on your own for half an hour. You hadn’t talked to him the whole ride back to town, too shocked by everything that had happened. 

He carried the conversation for the both of you, offering a brief explanation that only confused you more. Blake had apparently been one of the meteor freaks, somehow being exposed to it when it had left a crater in your town. 

But Clark didn’t tell you how he made it across the highway and to the hospital in under five minutes with no car. He didn’t tell you anything that actually mattered. So, you told him to drop you off at home and you haven’t seen him in a week. 

Chloe had called you once during your self-induced isolation, just to tell you that she’d driven by Blake’s house. Apparently the entire place looked like it had been cleaned out. No sign of him or his parents anywhere. You wish you could say you care, but you don’t. You’re almost grateful he’s gone. Not only did he reveal your long held secret infatuation to Clark, he’d clearly had ill intentions as he tried to take you out of town. 

Your Nokia nearly buzzes itself off your nightstand as you set your book to the side and look at the all-too familiar contact.

Clarkie

The stupid nickname you’d given him in middle school lights up the small screen and you let out a rough sigh, watching as it rings and rings before finally quieting. The screen goes dark before lighting up once more as his ringtone fills the silence of your room. He doesn’t give up easily, you have to give him that. 

You’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face him. Not now that he knows about your feelings for him. There’s no hiding what Blake so plainly laid out for him. You sink into the comforts of the pillows on your bed and wonder if you could just live here forever. 

Something knocks against your window and you ignore it as nothing more than a branch from the tree. It’s not much longer before it happens again and you rip your hands off your face and are forced to sit up. Your phone rings once more and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that you know exactly who waits outside your window. 

“You can’t hide forever,” comes an annoying cheerful voice from outside. You force yourself off your bed and slink toward your window. Sure enough, Clark waits below it, a boyish grin poised on his face as he looks up at you. As much as you’re avoiding him, it’s plain cruel to just leave him outside. 

Reluctantly, you open your window and he’s quick to climb your tree. You back up as he slots his broad frame through and into your room. He lets out a short huff of breath and straightens up, giving you a sheepish smile. 

Taking a seat on your bed, you find it a tad difficult to look at him. Clark sucks in a deep breath and grabs your desk chair. He straddles it, resting on the back of it and staring at you until you feel like he’s going to burn holes into the side of your face. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You hum and shrug, tucking a loose wave behind your ear. “I’ve been sick,” you lie, briefly looking up. The intense way he’s looking at you leaves you breathless and you have to take in a slow breath so your heart doesn’t kick up too much.  

“I want to tell you something.” Your head shoots up, concern lacing through you at the grave tone of his words. He looks away from you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, actually, I want to ask you something first. Is, uh,” he chuckles a little and licks his lips, a nervous tick he’s never been able to kick. “Is all that stuff that Blake said true?”

Your stomach drops, burying your face in your hands, you let out a low groan. “Oh, god,” you suck in a sharp breath, unable to look at him as heat flushes through you. 

Lying is always an option. It’s a poor option, but it’s there. Maybe, if you just lied straight through your teeth he would drop it and leave you alone. But you’ve been hiding this for so long, tucked so tightly to your chest, it would be a relief to finally be unburdened of the truth. 

“Yes,” you whisper. You don’t want to look at him, don’t want to face the truth of his rejection. Clark has been your best friend since you could walk, losing him over this stupid crush would destroy you. 

The silence drags on for too long and you feel the anxiety calling its way around you. Warmth envelops your hands and calloused palms draw them away from your face. 

You peek one eye open to find Clark kneeling before you, a soft smile on his face. “You better not be laughing at me, Kent.”

A small chuckle slips through his lips and you slap at his shoulder. He catches your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’m not, I promise. I wish you’d told me.”

“Why? So I could ruin our friendship faster?” You snark. 

“No, so I could do this,” he darts forward, soft lips capturing yours. You freeze up, eyes wide as his hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer. 

There’s a brief moment of shock where you’re completely frozen. But then you feel the way his thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. And you find yourself melting into the feeling of his embrace, eyes closing as you slowly open up to him. Your arms find their way around his neck, fingers burying themselves in the soft waves of his hair. 

The kiss itself is gentle, chaste almost. But it warms you from the inside out, makes you feel like you’re going to be nothing but a puddle of goo the longer he holds you. When he pulls back, he drags it out, lips lingering as long as they can. 

You’re slow to recover, eyes glazed over as you stare at him. He seems just as shocked, like he hadn’t expected to do that. Of course, you say the first thing that comes to mind instead of just shutting up and enjoying the moment. “What about Lana?” You blurt out, wincing the second it leaves your mouth. 

He frowns at you and shrugs, “What about her?”

“You’ve been blowing me off for months for her. We go to her shop every day just so you can stare at her. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly discovered feelings for me. I won’t be your backup, Clark.”

He shakes his head vehemently, looking almost offended by the idea. “What? No. Of course you’re not,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you before sinking back on his heels with a huff. “Look, I wasn’t ditching you for her, I can explain all that,” he pauses and then quickly adds, “later.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and he reaches up, taking your hands in his. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. But the most important thing is that I am completely over Lana.”

“Really?” You question, tone harsh but bordering almost on teasing. “You look at all your friends like that?”

He shakes his head, “No,” he pauses, “just you,” he adds with a cheeky smirk. You roll your eyes and shake your head, looking away from him. “Whatever you thought you saw between us, it was only on her end. I swear, it’s been you for a long time.”  

You look away, but he’s not accepting that, tilting your chin to face him once more. “It’s always been you,” he murmurs, voice steady, certain.

Your breath hitches, heart stuttering in your chest. Maybe this is real. Maybe it’s been you that’s been the oblivious idiot. 

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze head-on. “Then prove it.”

His smile is slow, confident, and this time when he leans in you don’t hesitate to meet him halfway.

end. — I do not own the characters or the TV Show Smallville, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © scribes-of-valar 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Constantine Is Having Fae Problems

Not as in 'problems with the fae', but as in 'the Batfam don't understand shit about fae and it is somehow Constantine's problem'

"Thank you."

Whatever thoughts Constantine had before come to a screeching halt. He slowly turns around, praying he's misheard, but, unfortunately, no. He heard that right.

The black-haired kid - he looks like a kid, but, really, he is not, and he is not even human to begin with - is smiling at Nightwing, who just laughs and ruffles the boy's hair.

"Don't worry about it, it's nothing," the moronic eldest batkid says, like it's not a big deal, and Constantine just... can't. He is not dealing with this right now. He needs a drink.

And then it happens again. Not with the Nightwing, though. This time, it's Black Bat. Now, in all honesty, Constantine is not so sure about her being human either, what with her appearing out of goddamn aether and being silent as a ghost, but the point still stands. The new addition to Bat's menagerie of children, the fae boy, the changeling who insists he is Robin's brother, thanks her.

It's quick and easy, just like a human would say it, and Black Bat just nods back at him, but Constantine knows what it means. He knows the weight of fae gratitude.

The big question is, do the Bats know it?

He promises himself to address this issue later with the Big Bat himself. But every time he encounters the man, he just forgets to bring it up. Constantine strongly suspects it's not his bad memory at fault here, but a certain fae. Not that he is going to outright go and blame the damned creature, of course, Constantine values his life, mind, and consciousness. Also, he is very aware of the consequences of talking to the fae, unlike the furry brigade.

Alas, he can't forget something if he witnesses with his own eyes. So the next time he is in the Batcave, he makes it a point to wait until the same thing eventually happens. And, score for Constantine, it does.

"Thank you," the kid - again, not a kid, not a human, but whatever - tells Red Robin, and Constantine immediately snaps his head to him, pointing a finger at the smiling fae.

"I mean no disrespect, but what are you doing?"

The kid - Danny, as he insists to be called, although Constantine knows better than to call a fae by any name - tilts his head to the side. He looks confused, but there's a sly glint to his blue eyes. Oh, the fucker knows exactly what he means. He just doesn't want to admit to it.

"What do you mean?" It's not him, but Red Robin asking, and Constantine turns to look him in the eyes. Mask. Whatever.

"He is thanking-" a terrible thought crosses Constantine's mind, and he stares at Red Robin with horror, "Oh, don't tell me you were all thanking him and apologizing to him like he is a human being."

"I don't see how this is your business," Red Robin scolds, and his eyes narrow. Constantine can't see his actual eyes through the mask, but he knows the Bats well enough to know the kid looks as deadpan as he can.

"You can't do that!" He reaches down to the pocket where he keeps his cigarettes, but stops halfway. Right, no smoking in the Batcave. Wait, he never obeyed that rule! Constantine turns to glare at the fae boy. Danny appears as innocent as a newborn baby. Little bastard.

"Quit making a scene," comes another voice, and this one John recognizes, turning to look at little Robin. Now that he thinks about it, the demonic child claimed the fae as his brother, and he definitely should know how to talk to fae!

"Why didn't you tell them about the rules?!" He asks Robin, and the kid doesn't even bat an eye at him.

"You will not accuse me of incompetence in front of my brother," Robin huffs, not stepping closer and keeping one hand on his hip, "I did."

"You-"

"Okay, how about you calm down?" Danny interjects, and John is positive this is the first time he's heard the boy say anything other than 'thank you'. He turns to the fae, facing him, and, oh, Jesus, those are not human eyes. Or teeth. Or face. Holy fuck how do Bats live with this, it's like uncanny valley but hundreds times worse.

"If I tell you I use it for easier access, will you leave it be?" The fae tilts his head again, and this time it is not in confusion, but in the eerie manner of how all very much not human beings do it. Constantine swallows, but doesn't back down.

"Access to what, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Transportation," Danny provides. This does not explain shit and he knows it. Red Robin groans and rolls his eyes.

"We use it to summon Danny if we need him. It's faster than calling or texting."

Constantine freezes.

These fucking kids. Are using the fae debts. To summon him. Because they don't like texting.

Do they know that they can literally ask a fae to destroy a small country to fulfill a debt like that? It's not just a small favor, it's a gratitude. Fae take their gratitude very seriously. They value it. A lot.

Actually, you know what, no. John is not going to be explaining that part to them because God knows the batkids are all batshit crazy and this is an opportunity he is not willing to give them.

So he just nods stiffly, turns around, and heads to the zeta tube.

"Thank you for caring about my family," he hears a voice behind him, full of mischief and joy. Constantine feels the weight of the newly acquired debt, or better call it a favor, bind itself to his soul, and, great, he now has the power to part the sea like Moses, but only once.

He needs a drink. No, correction, he needs a whole bar to himself.

Wait, that's an idea.

"Get me a bottle of good bourbon, and we're even," he throws around his shoulder, stepping into a zeta tube.

When he steps out of it, there's an unlabeled bottle in his hand. John sighs and opens it, foregoing the glass or cup and drinking straight from the neck.

...It's good bourbon.

Inspired by @blackfoxsposts

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[neeeooon]

bllk characters when we randomly kiss them (and engulf them in a bear bug) out of nowhere, it could be a very soft and sweet kiss or we kiss them like it’s the end of the world :3

maybe with isagi, rin, sae, chigiri, reo, and nagi?

cuteee thank you for the req!! 💛

when you’re randomly affectionate

bf bllk x gn!reader. fluff

isagi yoichi

-> you can’t help it. his outfit had a wrinkle that gave him a little fabric belly, he had a star-shaped pinkle patch beneath his right eye, and his sprout grew a friend

-> suddenly you’re launching yourself at your unsuspecting boyfriend, pinning his arms to his sides as you encase him in a bear hug

-> “wh—y/n?! can’t.. breathe…” you squeeze harder until you feel a crack and release him, isagi going dramatically limp against you

-> “please tell me that was your back and not your neck.” “owwww.”

itoshi rin

-> he was focused on analyzing a professional soccer match, and you know better than to interrupt his “me time” but you can’t stop the urges

-> “rin?” he blinks. you wait a couple seconds until a commercial break comes on, then try again. “rin?” “yes?”

-> you don’t remember crawling over to him but suddenly your arms are looped around his neck and shoulders, pulling him against you as you kiss him like your life depends on it

-> rin takes a second to process what’s happening before sneaking his hand into your hair and tugging you closer, kissing you harder. when you finally part, you’re a blushing mess. “sorry. i just really wanted to kiss you.” “uh-huh..”

itoshi sae

-> he’s in the kitchen cooking eggs because “protein, y/n. you need it.” when you approach from behind

-> you aren’t exactly trying to be stealthy as you wrap your arms around his waist. sae glances briefly over his shoulder, and you take that moment to place a collection of soft, almost shy kisses against his cheek, jaw, and the corner of his lips

-> he hums as he plates the eggs, moving slow so you can follow without having to let go of his waist. “feeling clingy?” you kiss his clothed shoulder in reply, smiling when his chuckle rumbles through you. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

chigiri hyoma

-> chigiri steps out of the bathroom, towel ruffling his damp hair, and you’re overcome with the urge to hug

-> “hyoma,” you drawl as you stumble off the bed and flop against him, nestling your face against the crook of his neck and kissing whatever your lips come in contact with. “you smell good.”

-> “i just got out of the shower—y/n, where are you, oh god.” he blurts as you walk him back to the bed, pushing all your weight on him so you fall into the mattress together. “i have to dry my hair.”

-> “stay,” you hum as you innocently lay against him, arms still hugging him tight. “just for a minute. i need this.” “… fine. one minute.”

mikage reo

-> it’s the end of the world. your boyfriend stepped away to take a phone call fifteen minutes ago. who takes phone calls for fifteen minutes?

-> when he returns, ready to apologize for making you wait, he instead screams when you jump off the bed and directly onto him. caught off guard, he doesn’t have time to catch you properly, and you both come crashing to the ground

-> “ow,” he moans as you lay on top of him, smothering him with your body as you decorate his face with your desperate kisses. “i almost died, reo!” “i was gone ten minutes..” “fifteen, actually, and that’s fourteen more than usual!”

-> he chuckles into your hair and kisses you back. “sorry, sweetheart. next time, i’ll tell them my partner is chronically clingy and needs my full attention.” “thank you!”

nagi seishiro

-> you don’t know why you’re suddenly desperate to attach yourself to your boyfriend, but you aren’t going to resist

-> “y/n—oh.” nagi doesn’t stand a chance as you roll over and wrap your limbs around him like he’s a tree. you bury your face against his chest and squeeze, trying to get as close as possible. “need hugs?”

-> he feels you nod against him and somehow manages to slip his arms from your demon grip. nagi lazily hugs you back and places a kiss to your head. “mmm. comfy?” “yeah.” “good.”

[wysteria-bloom]

⚝ "oh shit you're crying okay"

Hazbin Hotel boys react to you crying at a party

Warnings : mentions of val. hate that motherfucker.

Genre : angst, comfort, fluff

A/n : bro I jump between fandom obsessions too much I need help. Why am I simping for THE DEVIL from THE BIBLE and A TV-HEAD MAN 😭😭 actually devastated with myself. Anyways Vox and Alastor's may be a bit longer because... yeah. Angel-Dust's is a friend relationship but you can interpret it differently if you are a dude lol

Characters : angel-dust, husk, alastor, vox, lucifer

▢ angel dust 𔘓

When he walked into the bathroom, he was shocked at first at the sight of you, feeling fear grip his heart.

Had Val got his hands on you when he was distracted? He would never forgive himself if he had-

"Toots, ya can't jus' go an' disappear on me like that," He began softly as he closed the bathroom door, locking it for privacy," had me tearin' out my hair."

You sniffed as you look up at him, eyebrows furrowed, cheeks swollen from tears," s-sorry..." you whimpered out, curling in on yourself a little more.

He grimaced at the dirty floor you were sitting on before maneuvering around you sit next to you, one of his arms pulling you into his side-embrace comfortingly.

"This party's fuckin' shitty, ain't it? Sorry for bringin' ya here, doll." He sighed out, hand caressing your side softly.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from sobbing as you shook your head vehemently," i-it's not that, Angel... you were only trying to cheer me up..." you furiously wiped at your eyes to stop more tears from falling," I just-... Fucking hate everything down here..."

He hummed, head leaning on top of yours," cheers to that." He droned out with a frown.

You looked up at him, his heart squeezing at the innocent look on your face. You weren't supposed to be down in a place like this, there was no way.

"Can we just... go get ice cream or something?" You then gulped, waving a hand," b-but if you're having fun-"

"Nah. I'd rather do one of Charlie's trust exercises than be in this shit-hole." He stood up smoothly and pulled you with him, keeping you close to him as he grinned toothily," I would kill for an ice cream right now."

▢ alastor ⍋

He didn't willingly want to be here, in fact he stayed for a total of 15 minutes to please Charlie before escaping outside to leave.

But the sight of you sitting on the steps outside sniffling to yourself made him pause in his long strides.

You had your head hung low, a red plastic cup sitting at your side alone.

You were prime for manipulation.

But... Alastor found himself being sympathetic. He breathed out a sigh before walking over to you," my, what do we have here? My dear, being out in the open in such a vulnerable state is a bold choice!" He exclaimed, grinning down at you, but it wasn't as sharp as it usually was.

You jumped at his sudden presence," Jesus-!" You looked up.

"Not quite!"

You seemed to relax at the sight of the red-haired demon and sighed in relief," Alastor..." you gave him a weak smile, wiping away at your tears," Wh-what brings you out here, huh? Needed fresh air?"

He sat down on the steps with you," As a matter of fact, I was planning my great escape from this wretched event!" He tilted his head at you, hair falling along with him as he regarded you with a knowing glint in his eyes," I believe you're well acquainted with the feeling, hmm?"

Your smile fell as you huffed, deciding it was useless to keep up a happy persona around Alastor when he was so good at reading right through you," You could say that."

"What bothers you so, my dear?" He gave you a closed-eyed smile, tugging at your cheek like an annoying auntie would do," perhaps your favourite radio demon can be of service to you."

He earned a giggle from you as you waved his hand away amusedly, making his expression soften at the sound.

"You're the only radio demon I know." You raised a brow at him in amusement.

He nodded with an exageratted shrug," I wouldn't have it any other way, dear."

You smiled genuinely at him, feeling your worries already disappearing," parties suck." You answered his previous question.

"Aha!" His smile looked like a grimace and his fluffy ears flattened as if an unpleasant memory was reminded to him," agreed."

"They're gross."

"Tell me about it!"

"And the people in it make me want to kill myself. Again."

He snapped his fingers at you," I knew we had something in common! Well-said, cher, very well-said~!" He pressed a hand to his heart - as if he had one.

As you laughed, your tears dried up and you leaned back a little," as for you being of service?..." You trailed off, referring back to his earlier inquiry. A soft smile made its way to your lips," I think you've helped enough already, Al."

The red demon's posture seemed to stiffen but relax, his grin curving gently which was his way of softening it," Wonderful to hear, my dear."

He gave you a gentle pat to the shoulder and you had never felt so comforted in that moment.

▢ husk ꩜

Before even attending the party, he knew something was up with you. You weren't smiling as much on the way there, and you were jumpy at his comforting touches.

Even so, you insited that you wanted to spend time with everyone at the party despite his assurances that you could stay home.

When he found you crying in the bathroom, he froze in his spot before grumbling to himself and closing the door behind him, not before giving a growl and a deadly glare at the demon that was whining about needing a piss.

He led you gently from the ground to a standing position before settling you on the toilet seat.

The silence between you both was soft and comforting, hanging in the air like a gentle caress of wind.

He got down on his knees in front of you and began to wipe away at your tears, a deep frown settled on his face.

You only stared into his eyes with your glassy ones, bottom lip trembling," my makeup probably looks so fucking gross..." you sobbed.

Husk snorted," should be the least of your worries, doll." When you finally stopped crying he huffed and flicked your forehead," you have some serious FOMO." He grumbled out, an amused smirk on his fluffy face.

You sniffled and nodded, choking back more tears," I know."

"And you need to know when to stop if you're uncomfortable."

You nodded again," I know.."

His brows furrowed," and you still look pretty with your makeup running down your face." His reassurance was sweet and charming despite the disgruntled expression on his face.

A watery smile broke onto your lips,"... Thank you." You breathed out softly.

"Wanna get the fuck outta here? There's a nice bar I know a few blocks away we could drink at. Just the two of us."

You hummed," Sounds awesome."

▢ vox ᯤ

When he agreed to go to this stupid party for Val, he wasn't expecting to run into something like this.

His greatest enemy, you, was sat outside with your head in your hands as you sobbed and cursed to yourself.

To be honest he was torn between making fun of you or just taking advantage of the situation and killing you.

But there was that little voice in the back of his coding that screamed to comfort you.

He groaned and ran his hands down his face," fuck my life fuck my life fuck my life..." He muttered to himself as he walked over to you.

He stood behind you and watched as you paused to look up at him, face puffy and pathetic.

He grinned wryly at the sight," Holy shit you're an ugly crier." He stated without thinking.

Your wide eyes turned half-lidded as you turned your attention away from him," Go fuck yourself, Vox. I'm not in the mood for your whiny baby shit." You grumbled out.

"Hey, hey. Whiny baby is too far, sweetheart. Take the insults down a few notches, yeah?" He then sat down next to you," treating me like this when about to comfort you. The fuckin' nerve of you."

You gave him a deadly glare, growling," Vox, leave. I told you I'm not in the fucking m-" you were interrupted by being pulled into a sudden embrace, making you shut up immediately.

There was a long awkward silence as you were pulled into Vox's side in a side-hug.

Then you spoke with a small voice,"... what is this." Was more of a demand than a question.

"Comfort." Vox replied casually when he was fucking sweating buckets.

"........ huh...." you bit your lip as you felt tears sting at your eyes,"... alright."

You leaned into him unknowingly, making him gush a little to himself. Why the fuck was he being soft right now? He didn't know.

"You looked hot tonight. All dolled up." He gritted out.

"Yeah? Looked? Past-tense?"

He nodded," you look like a wet-rag now."

You snorted," fuck you, man." You grumbled, and leaned your head onto his shoulder," fuck, I'm pathetic..."

"Yeah. But it's okay." He replied as comfortingly as he could but it just came out awkwardly," y'know parties are supposed to be fun? Why are you crying?"

"I hate my life? Or lack thereof?"

He hummed with a nod," Fair enough." Then he smiled widely," guess we have one thing in common, huh?"

You looked up at him before you sent him a slightly amused smirk," do we?"

He cleared his throat at your expression and looked away quickly, blush on his screen,"I-I mean.. yeah. Fucking sucks down here. Literal shit hole." Then he shrugged, trying to brush off the stutter of his heart," but... but at least you're not like... alone or whatever the fuck."

You stared for a moment, eyes softening as you nodded in agreement,"... Yeah. At least there's that, huh?"

You leaned back into his embrace with less tension in your body as Vox began to relax alongside you.

▢ lucifer morningstar ⚝

He came to this party just to make a brief appearance for his daughter's celebration of the hotel being rebuilt to be honest.

But he took quick note of how you had left very suddenly, mumbling to him about needing to take a breather outside. He was worried, of course, but he just left you in your lonesome until he got worried when you didn't return for 20 minutes.

When he walked outside onto the balcony of the hotel his eyes widened in horror at the sigh of you sobbing to yourself.

"Oh shit you're crying okay ummm," He walked over to you quickly, playing with his fingers awkwardly," Honey is everything okay? Do...do you need a hug?"

"Shit... sorry..." you mumbled looking up at him ashamedly from the floor, smiling pathetically as tears trailed down your cheeks," I.. I'm sorry you have to see me like this..."

He frowned deeply, his nervousness subsiding as he crouched down in front of you," Don't apologise for something so silly." He mumbled, grabbing on your hand and gently squeezing," what's wrong? Is it something I can help with?"

His concern was incredibly sweet and touching, not something you would expect from the King of Hell.

But here he was comforting you like you were the most precious treasure to him. And you were... aside from Charlie, for obvious reasons.

You sniffled and felt your tears gathering again at his concern, you bottom lip trembling. At the sight, he frowned," Oh, love... oh honey..." He brought you into a hug, arms wrapping securely around you as he let his wings embrace you as well," I'm here now... always will be..."

You nodded against him as you just cried your heart out.

[cryptidghostgirl]

The Love (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Description: Alastor is drunk and Charlie asks him if he has ever been in love.

Warnings: I don't think there are any but correct me if I'm wrong.

Word Count: 1,323

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N Y'all, I'm lowkey dying from the requests. I'm sorry for the last five or so taking so long, I just need a little break and mix in some of my own ideas if that is okay.

Alastor was drinking at the bar with Husk, Charlie, and Angel. The day had been a lot, seeing Mimzy was always a lot. Yes she was trouble, but Alastor loved her. He loved her for the same reason he was trying to drink himself stupid at the bar. He loved her because she reminded him of Y/n. Mimzy had been her friend first, after all.

He sat off to the side in his own little world while Angel and Charlie chatted and Husk obediently poured the drinks. Normally, Husk would have joined the pair in the mindless, mundane chatter but after the events of the day, Alastor's presence kept him silent.

"No way!" Charlie exclaimed.

She and Angel were talking about some TV show they both watched or another. A mind numbingly boring background noise but, Alastor wasn't complaining.

"Yes! They are one hundred percent perfect for each other." Angel replied animatedly.

"Literally how. Name one thing that shows they have good chemistry."

"Uh, they’re constantly at each other's throats? If that's not love, I don't know what is."

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't know what love is."

Husk let out a short, sharp laugh as he topped off Angel's drink.

"Oh yeah? Well then, Princess, what do you think love is."

Charlie sighed, leaning her elbow on the counter as a dreamy look spread across her face.

"Love is... love is when you would do anything for the person. It's when they're your guiding star, your... your prayers answered."

"Uh, no? Love is when you want to literally kill the person but like, in a good way."

"Angel, what does that even mean." Charlie laughed.

"It means... it means there is passion. That spark everyone always talks about? It's violence."

"Hey Al!" Charlie suddenly called, leaning back in her seat to peer at Alastor behind Angel's back, "Who's right, me or Angel?"

Alastor looked up from his glass.

"I hate to say it, but neither of you are correct." he sighed in irritation at having been disturbed, "Love is neither a constant fight nor a blind devotion, though it contains aspects of both."

"Like you know anything about love, mister fancy talk creepy voice." Angel scoffed, turning to face Alastor as well now.

"Actually, I do."

Charlie's face lit up. She practically vibrated with anticipation.

"Alastor! You've been in love!?"

Normally, on a night like this, he'd be alone. He'd be careful to be alone, or at least have Husk as his only company. When he told Husk to shut up and pour, he listened. Other people, not so much.

"Yes."

Charlie had stars in her eyes. She inched closer to him.

"Are you gonna spill?" Angel asked after a moment.

"It was a long time ago."

Alastor took a long sip from his glass.

"Do you... do you not remember it?" Charlie asked, her excited smile slipping slightly at the notion

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the long day, Lucifer, Mimzy, Husk. Those shark demons. Maybe it was just that secretly all along, he had wanted someone to talk to. He watched the liquor in his glass as he swirled it gently.

"It was a long time ago, but I still remember it." his smile softened as he spoke, "It's strange. I remember her laughter, her little quixotic tendencies. I remember the way her eyes would light up when she smiled and the way her perfume smelled. I know her favorite author, the way she took her coffee, the way she folded her clothes but, I can't seem to ever see her face anymore. I..."

He trailed off, taking a breath.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Charlie quickly said, not wanting to make Alastor uncomfortable.

Alastor shook his head.

"I've spent years not talking about her. Maybe... maybe something else would be nice."

"So, how'd you guys meet?" Charlie immediately asked.

Alastor looked up at her and let out a light chuckle. He felt like he was human again for a moment. It was odd.

"I don't know if you know this about me, but I was a radio broadcaster back when I was alive. A rather famous one at that, in New Orleans at any rate. Her family ran a restaurant near the studio that I went to get lunch at from time to time. She worked there as a server."

"And she loved you?" Angel asked, "Like, you weren't just delusional?"

"I was quite the lady's man back in my day."

"Uh-huh." Angel doubtfully replied, "Sure."

"Oh hush, Angel." Charlie shoved the spider demon slightly, "Tell us more! What was she like? Did you ever get together or were you just friends? Gah! I wanna know everything!"

"She was..." Alastor's gaze fell back to his glass, "you remind me of her in a way. She was so idealistic, so driven. So... bubbly. She worked hard and she cared deeply. I don't know how I swung her, despite my charms. We were friends for about a year. The whole time, I was trying to work up the courage to ask her out but she ended up being the one to ask me. We got married when we were in our mid twenties. I only had a few years with her as my wife before I died."

Unbidden ideas darkened the edges of his mind. Y/n had always been so good, so sweet. Alastor had no idea if she had ever learned of his... escapades. He figured she must know, considering the manner in which he died but it was a horrifying thought. He was grateful when Charlie spoke again, pulling his mind back to the present.

"Thats so cute!" Charlie exclaimed, clapping her hands as she looked between Alastor and Angel, searching for similar excitement.

"Can we meet this alleged doll of yours?" Angel asked, "Cause I am really not believing any of this bullshit your spouting."

Charlie gasped, suddenly struck by inspiration.

"Do you think she would want to be redeemed?"

"Oh dear," Alastor shook his head, meeting Charlie's eyes, "she's not here."

"Then wh-"

"She's in heaven?" Angel exclaimed, "You married someone who ended up in heaven?"

"Either that or she's over a hundred years old and still on earth." Alastor weakly joked.

"I'm sorry."

Alastor shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

"No!" Charlie insisted, "You'll... you'll never get to see her again! That's so sad!"

"And here I thought you were trying to get us redeemed." Angel scoffed.

Charlie turned to him.

"I'm trying to get you redeemed cause you're a guest. Alastor isn't a guest."

"Right you are, my dear."

"But you could do that." Charlie said turning back to Alastor, "Angel's right, if you were a guest you could be redeemed. You could see her again!"

Alastor smiled kindly at the excited demon. He patted her back.

"I'm afraid I don't think that's an option."

"But why not!" Charlie insisted, "Anyone can be redeemed, Alastor."

"That's not the issue, my dear." he sighed, "I did some things on earth that she would most certainly view as... unfavorable shall we say? Things she most certainly learned of after my death."

"You're not even gonna give it a shot?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, come on Alastor. Let us help you. You never know how it could turn out!"

"It's alright. I have the time we spent together, the memories. I don't want to taint that." he slowly, unconsciously, raised a hand to his chest, his palm over his heart, "The love is still there, thats what matters."

The quartet fell silent as Husk poured Alastor another drink. Alastor sighed, grabbing the glass and examining it carefully, but not taking a sip.

"What was her name?" Charlie asked, her voice small and her smile long gone.

"Y/n."

It had been years since he'd said it out loud. His tongue relished every syllable.

"Her name was Y/n."

[em-ontv]

Eyes on you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x lover!fem!reader

Summary: To get information for a case, you had to speak to a witness at a bar. However, the guy was way too interested in you for Dean's liking, and Dean could only watch.

Warnings: established relationship, bits of alcohol mentioned, the guy is sort of a creep, Dean getting jealous, neck kisses at the end. English isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, this was kind of rushed, sorry!

Word count: 974

It had been two hours. Two long, agonizing hours in this small town bar, and Dean was starting to believe that he was going to lose his mind.

It was just another case, but he wasn't sure if he was going to make it out alive. Not because of demons or ghouls—no, he was losing his sanity because he had to watch some cocky idiot openly flirt with you while you played your role.

You were leaning against a table, your fake smile wide and charming, while this guy—Rick or Ron, something with an 'R', some mechanic—was eyeing you up like he just hit the jackpot.

To be fair, you were stunning, and Dean knew that. Knew it too well, actually. But did this guy really have to act like that? Flirty smirk, voice dripping with innuendo, staring at you like you were the best thing to ever happen to his sorry existence. Practically undressing you with his eyes like he couldn't wait to get his grubby little hands on you.

And Dean, standing a few feet away, could only watch the whole thing unfold with an expression of absolute suffering.

He had to play it cool. Had to let you do your thing, ask the guy questions, get the information you both needed for the case.

But oh, the way Rick-whatever-his-name-was leaned in closer to you, that smirk on his face? Dean's hand twitched, his jaw clenched, and every fiber of his being was telling him to just walk over there, throw his arm around your waist, and glare the dude into oblivion if he was lucky. If he wasn't? Maybe he'll throw a left-hook... maybe two.

But no, he couldn't. Because professionalism.

His fingers drummed against the side of his glass, the cheap alcohol did nothing to cool him down. You were across the room, laughing at something Rick said—which was definitely not funny.

Dean took a deep breath, jaw tightening. His eyes narrowed as he watched 'Rick' give you a grin that was just a little too wide. His hand brushed against your arm. And Dean saw red. If he had to listen to one more word of this idiot’s weak attempts to flirt, he was going to lose it.

Because yeah, sure, you were undercover. Yeah, you had to pretend that you were nothing more than a waitress while Dean had to pretend like he was just some dude passing through. But come on. This guy? This guy with his greasy hair and his cheap cologne? The way he was looking at you like you were a steak fresh off the grill and he was starving?

Dean’s hands clenched around the glass, knuckles going white. He watched as Rick leaned in closer, his voice dropping into what was clearly his best attempt at a suave tone. Dean could almost hear it from where he was sitting.

"You know," Rick drawled. "You’re way too pretty to be just a bartender. Bet you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, though." He winked. He winked.

Dean’s head dropped back, and he mentally started banging it against the nearest wall. He could feel the frustration bubbling up inside him, fighting to escape in a snarky comment underneath his breath…

He risked another glance at you. You caught his eyes from across the bar and gave him the tiniest smirk.

Oh, you were enjoying this.

His patience hung by a thread as Rick leaned even closer—his gaze drifting over you like you were his to admire.

To Dean, this was torture. Pure torture.

Finally—finally—you wrapped up the conversation, you leaned back, giving the guy a polite smile that didn’t reach your eyes. "Thanks for the info," you said smoothly. "But I think I've got everything I need."

You turned and walked off, leaving Rick blinking, still stuck in whatever daydream he was having about you and eventually losing sight of you in the crowds of people passing by.

Dean exhaled hard through his nose as you slid into the booth across from him. You didn’t say anything at first, just sipped your drink, clearly enjoying the way his eyes were practically burning holes in the wall.

"You okay there, sweetheart?" you asked, pretending to be oblivious.

Dean scoffed, shaking his head. "Me? Oh yeah. I’m just peachy. That guy? Total professional. Definitely didn’t want to strangle him with his own shoelaces."

You raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. "Come on, you know we needed the information."

"Yeah, well, next time, maybe I’ll be the one doing the questioning," he grumbled, shooting another glare in the guy's direction. "So you can just stay put."

You just smirked, leaning across the table. "Dean Winchester, are you jealous?"

Dean’s eyes narrowed at you. "Jealous—? No. I just didn’t like the guy’s face. Or his voice. Or the way he was staring at you."

You leaned back, your smile turning softer. "Don’t worry," you said, your voice dropping just a little. "You’re the only one I’m thinking about."

Dean’s frustration melted away in an instant. His lips twitched up into a smile as he let out a breath, his body finally relaxing. "Damn right," he muttered, leaning back in the booth, his usual confidence sliding back into place. "Still, if he so much as look at you again—"

"I know," you rolled your eyes, smiling as you took another sip of your drink. "You’ll wrap yourself around me like a jealous octopus."

"You know me too well."

"Someone has to."

And when the two of you got back to the motel, Dean practically threw himself at you, arms around your waist as buried his face into your neck, kissing every inch of your skin like a starved man, smiling like a fool when you ran your fingers through his hair, earning a hum of content from him.

[deadghosy]

HEADCANNONS OF HAZBIN HOTEL CREW WITH CATNAP! READER

Prompt: you are a resident in the hotel who makes sure people sleep. No one gets out of your grasp of not sleeping.

Warning: you aren’t an experiment, you died to og catnap’s smoke as you coughed going to hell. Also this might be long based on how your reading speed is.

I headcannon you to always walk around at night around the hotel making sure the hotel cast sleeps as you don’t sleep much either.

“I ensure you my friend I don’t need-" immediately Alastor passes out on the ground as the red smoke exit your mouth as you soullessly stare at the powerful man’s body with your creepy smile.

You don’t give a fuck- you are quite ruthless when putting someone to sleep. You had a smug teeth smile as you dragged Alastor by his leg to his room.

Angel was hiding in the hallway scared as red smoke covers the halls. “Shit…” he says as he eyes your tall figure walkby around the other side of the hall as your red smoke exiting your mouth follows

He was absolutely fucked. Angel tried to turn to run only to bump into purple fur as he holds himself at your chest. He blushes seeing your smug smile down at him.

Before he could protest the red smoke hits his face as your wrap your tail around his waist. How did you get so damn quick beside him?! You put him on your shoulder as you walked to his room to lay him down.

No one knows…..

Now when it’s morning time, you aren’t out as usual. Only at night time as you are use to being up at night helping other sleep. It’s part of your purpose and role as you even have a moon 🌙 pendent on your collar.

Hell, Angel is the most closest to you because he has rough times sleeping after working. He wouldn’t tell you what he does but all you know. He is physically and mentally tired from his job as you hold him in your soft arm as you let out red smoke from your mouth.

Your fur smelling like vanilla and lavender helps him sleep as he cuddles into your soft purple fur as you watch tv with a bored expression. Your ear twitches as Angel snores loudly.

Your red smoke is the only smoke he likes that is red.

Charlie found you at her door of the hotel and questioned you to why you wanted to work here. And what did you say.

“I want to help people sleep…” you said with a raspy deep voice as you smirked at Charlie who seemed a little unsure at your smirk as it seemed full of confidence and sinster. But she liked your determination as she hired you.

Of course I headcannon catnap’s fur and so as yours to smell like lavender to match the soft smell of sleeping to help residents sleep better than they ever have.

I also headcannon you have claws that can be retract like a cat. You usually use your claws/nail to cut something for the crew, or to protect from demons or sinner trying to harm the hazbin hotel.

CREW HEADCANNONS!

I headcannon husk walking to you grumbling drunk as he drops on your body without you even needing to use your smoke on him. Honestly you patted him as you both were cats. You both purr in each other presences. Angel and Charlie recorded the moment to save for their whole life.

I headcannon after Lucifer moved in the hotel. He was definitely scared if you because of your endless wide ass gaping smile. But after you actually showed you can stop smiling like that. He stopped having nightmares of you🦆. Poor little duck man had to hold his covers hearing your big ass steps around the halls.

I headcannon Angel and you sometimes compete trying to see who’s chest fluff is most fluffy.

…and you won💀

Literally what did he think when a 8ft tall cat creature who can make you pass out and hallucinate things have much more softer fur than him.

I headcannon Nifty one time tried to make you take a bath, but dead ass you blow the smoke in her face as she face planted on your paw. You laid her on the couch as you walked upstairs to go to bed on your own.

I headcannon that Charlie sometimes tries to make you sleep with the other residents rather than you forcing others to sleep. It didn’t work out well as you stilled stayed up to knock people out.

Lucifer one time tried to talk to you…but he couldn’t get the hang of you being 8ft tall…it actually intimidated the king of hell himself as he gulps staring up at you. He forced you to get down low like a cat to face him as he pets you.

You purred of course with your usual grin making Lucifer blush as he rubs his face in your fur with a star gazed expression. Literally star in his eyes as he actually fells relaxed by the smell of lavender. 

Alastor hates you sometimes, but he loves how calm and quiet you are despite you knocking his ass flat like a bug getting hit with a fly swatter. But he appreciates how you care for people’s health and sleep schedule.

Pentious absolutely loves you as his egg boiz cuddle up to you if it’s winter. You smile your smug smile as you whistle at the eggs who seem happy to be by you as Pentious also snugs himself in your fur

I kinda imagine when most people see an 8ft tall ass purple cat with white pupils with full black eyes staring at them. They piss their pants running as the whole hazbin crew hugs you admiring how soft your fur is.

Vaggie once seen you use your red smoke on angel, and she was concerned as she literally whipped out her spear at you as you only stared confused with a raised brow. You pushed the spear out of your sight explaining that angel couldn’t sleep and asked you to help.

I can see that vaggie, Alastor, and Lucifer were the last ones to actually trust you before believing you have good intentions to helping people sleep.

The ones to immediately trust you was, Angel dust, a little bit of husk, Charlie immediately with nifty and Pentious behind her.

I headcannon you basically breathing out red smoke on accident once and knocking out the whole hotel cast as you sit there with your ears down ashamed

I image angel dust pulling out one of those cat lasers to tease you. But he didn’t know that husk and you would immediately meow and purr for the laser as both of your eyes dilated. Angel died laughing as he took a picture of you falling on your back trying to grab the laser.

I headcannon vaggie to train you to fight only for you to prove her wrong when she woke up gasping for air to find out you used your smoke on her. She woke 5 hours….yeah she never doubted you ever again

I image when watching a movie with the crew, some of them lean on you like pillow while some just use your tail like a blanket while you snore like an old grandpa.

I headcannon the overlords once had a meeting about you as one of them seen you and mistook you for a new scary overlord. But Lucifer being the silly man he is, showed them a photo of you cuddling up with him on the couch. “Nah, he’s just a big ol cuddly cat..” he says with a snake smile as the overlords look at him like “What..the fuck..”