#charlie: mark you are the only one here I trust

[lonnit-entertainment]

Erin: Is stabbing someone immoral?

Kate: Not if they consent to it.

Jamie: Depends who you’re stabbing.

Charlie: YES?!

[bindeds]

[ DON’T BE SORRY. ] : 5.1k words. 𖤐 LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR X FEM READER. — you’re dating the big boss of hell himself, but it’s a sticky situation when you’re also good friends with a tech-savvy overlord who believes the cause of your boyfriend’s daughter is absolute bullshit.

#tags. slight hurt/comfort, slight jealousy, nsfw (+18), fluff, smut, vox being a hell of a friend, lucifer being vulnerable as hell,

a/n. fuuuuck i forgot to post this under the request but this was the request that i wrote this for <33 didn''t even remember they wanted fluff which is lucky bc i suck at fluff so i don't write it too often but i ended up writing in fluff anyway bc it felt appropriate for the fic SO

masterlist. request something :>

“Sir, someone is here to see you.”

Vox growled. His office would have been pitch black if it weren’t for the multitude of tv screens that stared right back at him, boring holes into his screen. They buzzed and whined with a cyan glare bright enough to light the entire pentagram. Claw marks left the edges of his head unpolished, his bowtie askew as his teeth grinded so hard he wanted to encounter a system error.

“Tell Val I am not in the mood for sorting out whatever’s got his panties in a twist this time—”

“Someone else, sir.”

“Well don’t just stand there you useless fuck! Who the fuck is it?” Static shocks ruptured from the wires on his head as he jumped out of his chair fuming. 

The employee pulled one of the handles of Vox’s grand doors. In pranced a sunlit woman with a grin that stained her cheeks red. On her arms were shopping bags lined all the way down their forearms, marking their weight on her flesh.

You pulled your rose-tinted sunglasses away from your face as you cocked a brow.

“What, are you not happy to see me Vicky?” 

“When are you gonna stop calling me that, you absolute slut!” Vox beamed, and as if a new line of code had entered his program, he shedded his jacket off to peel your shopping bags off you as he set them on his couch.

“What brings you back here after all this time, whore? And whose money are you wearing because I know there’s no goddamn way that’s all yours,” Vox laughed through his clearly lighthearted remarks. 

“Whatever. Whore is right because you’ll never guess who I’m fucking.”

.

On the edge of the pride ring resided halls and halls of vintage red wallpaper and intricate gold decor. Knocking frantically at her father’s door just to ask where his partner had gone was never how Charlie would have imagined her morning to go, ever, but here she was, knees wobbling with her hands clasped together as she waited no longer than a second before she had her fist in the air again to—

“Charlie?” 

“Dad!”

When Charlie had asked of your whereabouts, Lucifer simply frowned, though a hint of terror struck his shrunken pupils.

“Uh—I thought she was with you? Don’t you guys have that trust building exercise thing on today—”

“Yes! Yes that is precisely why I am panicking—she’s not in her room and she never misses our gatherings! Dad, how do you not know where she is?” Charlie screeched anxiously.

“Relax, Charlie I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for—”

“For her not to tell her own boyfriend where she’s going?” Charlie seethed with dirt kicked into her tone. 

“Let me call her, okay?” Lucifer pulled his phone out and speed dialed you. 

Something in his room buzzed intermittently. 

Charlie peered into her father’s room, only to find another phone rattling on the further bedside table.

Lucifer looked over his shoulder to the same view. His shoulders dropped.

“Ohhh no.”

.

“Face it baby, I got bigger bucks than daddy could ever conjure up.”

“Vox!” You punched him in the shoulder, unable to hold back laughs that pulled at the bottom of your stomach.

“What? Oh my god, you actually call him that in bed don’t you, you bitch? Holy shit, you really are a slut!” Vox cracked up after you both had left his building. “Where to?” 

“A few blocks away I got something to show you in the ma …”

Your lips fell numb when your gaze fell on a certain man with a white overcoat tailing in the wind as he approached your direction with a storm in his steps. He had been looking at his sides—your hand moved to shove Vox even before your body could follow.

“Ow, what—”

“Go.”

“Babe, what’s—”

“Vox go GO! Back in now!” You spun him on his heel and elbowed him back into the glass doors of his building lobby.

“Honey?” 

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—”

He called your name, loud and clear as day that even the ruby skies of hell echoed it.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Vox deadpanned.

“Hey!”

Both yours and Vox’s heads turned to the sound, Lucifer just a few strides away from possibly opening a portal down a ring.

“You!” Lucifer barked, gaze locked with Vox’s. “The fuck are you doing calling my girlfriend ‘babe’?” 

“Oh, that’s not—”

“Lie to me and I swear to fucking god I’ll make sure they’ll be prying you for parts.”

“Luci.”

“What?” His head snapped in your direction.

A silent gasp escaped you. 

His shoes hadn’t nearly been dragged through as much gravel as his voice had been. It was something he’d dug up from the depths of his chest like it was nothing—and it brimmed with the filth of his own disdain. 

Lucifer blinked hard as he shook his head. “Honey, I didn’t—”

“We’re just friends.”

“I know that but—”

“It’s an expression.”

Lucifer blinked a few times again, and with each blink he lost more and more tension in his brows, his shoulders—even his lips parted, perhaps to say something, perhaps not.

You and Vox were frozen halfway through the door so Lucifer kicked him in and shut the door quickly to leave you and himself out on the street.

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” Lucifer asked, and it was like he placed a pillow to your head with the way his tone softened. His thumb had somehow ended up stroking soft circles on the back of your palm as he held your hand.

Vox stayed inside but his prying eyes stared through the glass nonetheless. He crossed his arms.

“Don’t look at him, darling,” Lucifer consoled with a lowered voice. He delicately took your chin and pivoted it back to him. “Look at me.”

“Look, can we talk about this back at the hotel?” You asked, but with the tone you used, you were teetering on the edge of pleading. “I’m … I’m sorry.”

“Oh, honey,” Lucifer cooed, tucking away any small pieces of hair that hung over your face. “Of course we can.”

All you could do was give Vox a weary glance before you ducked down into Lucifer’s car and disappeared in the distance.

.

The ride back had not been short of thick silences that hung in the air. Everytime you looked to him for some sort of emotion, there was nothing for you to read; his complexion was a still pond resting under the moon’s grace. Not even anger bubbled up the surface—and this is solely based on your assumption of what he must have been feeling, because he was a blank page. It’s only reasonable. 

Lucifer stopped at the newly built hazbin parking lot but didn’t pull out the key.

He looked at you expectantly, turning even his upper body to face you. 

You bit your lip.

“You don’t wanna go inside first?” A squeak of a voice was all you managed.

“I don’t want Charlie to see us upset,” Lucifer reasoned solemnly as he frowned at the floor before he returned his attentive gaze to you. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can work it out in here.”

“I’m … ashamed, okay,” you exhaled, folding your arms over your chest as you slouched forward. “I’m in hell for a reason. I know it looks bad but I’ve known Vox since he was alive. And I still believe in Charlie’s cause! I’m doing better … you know that, right?”

“Of course, I do, sweetie,” Lucifer blurted immediately, holding your arms like he was the glue to keep you from crumbling apart. “But why did you … did you think I wasn’t going to understand if you had told me?”

“Yes,” you admitted. “Even I wouldn’t have understood if I were in your shoes. I mean, I act like a completely different person around him. And I know what Vox has done, trying to send in Sir Pentious as a spy. It’s horrible. But he wasn’t always like that. Or, maybe he was but—never with me.”

“Honey, I trust you more than just about anyone in this hell. And fuck, that’s difficult in this side of the world, right? I mean—I just … you had me thinking the worst. Well, maybe not the worst but—”

“You thought I was cheating on you, didn’t you?”

“No, never,” Lucifer denied immediately as his eyes widened but his brows furrowed. “I knew it was some kind of mistake. I know you’d never do that to me. But you know … catching up with an overlord like it’s a regular tuesday still raises a few questions if—”

“I know that. I’m sorry. I should have told you. I’m sorry,” you repeated rigidly, curling into yourself so much that your head landed on his shoulder as he still held your arms. 

Lucifer pulled back to hold your face by the cheeks, and you didn’t struggle against him as he pressed his forehead on yours, his hat tilting up to accomodate you. 

“How about a kiss and we’ll call it even?” He smiled, and you felt his warmth spread to your cheeks.

You grinned back. “Okay.”

You tilted your chin up and gave him a kiss, and both of you had sustained it longer than either of you had expected. Your hand cupped his own over your cheek. 

Your lips finally parted, but not much before you both reconnected again, then again, and the third time your mouth was a little more open—and Lucifer’s tongue slithered inside. 

Your tongue met his, and they rolled over each other every time you kissed him. A few more kisses, and suddenly you were biting his lip lightly. He chuckled.

“I can see you’re eager to make it up to me, princess,” he said in that voice he knew drove you up the wall.

“I am,” you hummed, a little more innocently than you had intended. 

“Well, what are you gonna do?” He asked, genuine curiosity brewing in a higher tone.

You slipped away from his flowerbud grasp and pulled the lever of your seat. The backrest declined all the way backwards, and you laid down comfortably while your thumb slid under your dress and hooked around something that was already mildly damp.

“I’m gonna sit back …”

You chuckled as Lucifer’s eyes followed your every movement like a moth to a lamp; he followed the way your underwear slid down your knees before you folded your legs up to your chest to fully rid yourself from the garment. You tossed your underwear in his face before he could get a good view of what he’s getting himself into. 

He shook his head in a jolt, crumpling your panties and stuffing them into his pocket anxiously. But by then you were modest again, with your dress covering your thighs but still riding up dangerously high. 

“And let you decide the rest,” you finished in a thin breath.

“Goodness, okay, woo! Okay—” Lucifer sputtered and fanned his overcoat as he averted his gaze. It didn’t last long when his gaze gravitated towards your core that had been concealed but outlined your dress.

You bit your lip. “Well?”

Lucifer’s shoulder emerged from his coat as he shrugged one side of it off, and your gaze magnetized to the view as it slipped down him like a snake traversing down a tree. 

He planted his knee on the closer edge of your seat and it didn’t take long for him to shift your legs closer together, allowing space for his knees on either side of your thighs. Though, steadying himself naturally had his chest protruding as he held onto the car ceiling for support. His muscles peeked through the folds of his dress shirt, and the same can be said with his chest under his waistcoat. But that—that was no complaint. 

He finally fell to you with only his forearms to keep him up. His eyelids sank, his gaze indecisive between your eyes and your dry lips.

He settled on neither when he ducked below your jaw and planted kisses along it before he strayed downwards. 

The spaghetti string of your dress slid down your shoulder the more your squirmed at Lucifer’s nibbles. You knew the moment he caught sight of this because he hesitated for a tenth of a second. 

He grinned. He took it between his fingers delicately and slid it down further. 

“Whoops,” he grinned. 

Glossy silicon mocked him as it peeked out from what had been peeled off you. 

“Luci, careful with that, I’ll need to put it back on later—”

Lucifer tore it off you anyway, tossing it to the back with his overcoat. “I’ll give you my coat when we go in, you’ll be fine.”

“Luci!” You laughed as he did the same with the other, your nipples stiffened from the cold air of the car. 

Lucifer sat on your pelvis, his hands traveling under your boobs to cradle them. 

You both have had sex multiple times together, and yet every time he removes undergarments off you, he enters a dazed trance like it was something new. Something to bask in the wonders of. 

He massaged your breasts gently, and it didn’t take long before he ducked down and had his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, one hand twisting and playing with the other.

A noise bubbled in your throat but you held your breath and bit your lip. Watching Lucifer hadn’t been any help; he cocked a brow at you, and a cheeky grin still made its way to the red circles on his cheeks as he quicked his tongue’s flicks against you. You gritted your teeth, a squeak making it past your lips. 

His hand abandoned the other nipple, but before you could whine in protest a new sensation rose in your lower stomach as Lucifer shifted his entire body further down.

His fingers had already been deep beneath your folds, your clit sitting pretty between as he pinched it and rubbed it in his grasp.

“Luci … fuck …”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled. Hell, you hated just how raspy his voice gets when he’s worked up. That by itself had been a leg-opener all on its own. “That’s it. Let me hear you sing.”

Your legs flinched at the jolt of pleasure his fingers brought, and Lucifer took this opportunity to lift the hem of your dress for easier access—and perhaps, a pretty view.

Every so often, he’d bring the threat of pushing his middle finger past your walls, but through the haze of pleasure, it was impossible to read his intentions when he easily could have been using your juices to lubricate his ministrations on your clit.

It had been like the wave of a wand, the way his free hand undid his tie. It dangled loose below his collar that he used to straighten out so diligently; something once so clean soon turned into a crumpled mess in your name. 

His wrist pivoted down to the buttons on his waistcoat. The faintest flick of his thumb and suddenly his waistcoat hung dead on his torso before he rubbed faster on your clit, making your squeal. 

Cold air brushed past your arousal at the sudden absence of him, and your walls throbbed against each other in response; they bruised and ached and when Lucifer turned down the brightness of the car light, it was all you could feel besides the leather your nails were sinking into.

“Luci, please …”

“Please what, honey?”

“It hurts,” you whined. You didn’t mean to, and in fact a burning sense of shame rose up to your neck and cheeks as sweat tore through the pores on your forehead but all you could do was grab his hand.

“I’m coming, daddy’s coming.”

A slow zipping sound ensued and just as quickly, the head of his erection pressed into your folds and your dripping walls pushed back from the pressure.

You moaned and grabbed Lucifer’s shoulders out of raw instinct, which brought him closer to you. 

“You want it all, princess?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” your mouth sagged numb from having to carry your writhing heart in your throat. The vulnerability of his skin on yours, the way his head was just so warm compared to the cold air earlier—your pussy throbbed once more.

 “Are you sure?”

“Please please please Luci I can’t—oh! Fuck!”

He pushed his length into you, your neck arching back as you grabbed a fistful of his shirt from where your hands hung around his neck.

Your throat clogged with the embarrassing sounds you knew you would have let out if you had no restraint left. You closed your eyes, knowing well that they were halfway to the back of your head. 

Your stomach seemed to make way for his size in you, tossing and spreading the ache to your limbs as your entire body steeled to accommodate him and the space he filled in you. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

You nodded, and a hole punctured through your throat as you sighed shakily. “Yes, god—” 

“Don’t say his name,” Lucifer breathed, his hand soft on your neck as he looked at your lips then back up at you. “If you have to say someone’s name, let it be mine.”

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing your brain conjured, and the only thing you could utter when all else in there had been undone. 

Lucifer kissed your jaw. “Don’t be sorry baby.”

He took your lips in his, his forked tongue brushing past your teeth once more. “Don’t be sorry.”

It was barely considered movement when he pulled out less than half his entire length and pushed in gently, as if you were something fragile he couldn’t afford to drop. You bit your lip and hummed at how smooth he slid into you, how your juices coated him beyond what was needed. 

He pulled out quickly but reentered languidly, like a wave finding its way to shore your core clenched at the nerves that tingled in you, the bruises almost sated in what it yearned for as he thrusted again, and your heart spewed.

“Fuck, if you make a sound like that again I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself,” Lucifer panted. “You’re so pretty, it makes me tremble.”

You reached up to give him another kiss, tilting your head along with the circles spinning in it. “Do whatever you want to me. You deserve that much.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to treat you like fucking royalty. Savor every inch if you,” Lucifer hissed through his pleasure. A choked moan left you, causing Lucifer to smile. “Yeah, see? Just like that princess. Fuck, taking me so well …”

With how soft his thrusts were, pressure subsided into more liquid pleasure that sloshed over your nerves. They lit up like christmas lights in your brain as you both moved in tandem to Lucifer’s pace. 

A fire had started at your nape from the body heat that had nowhere to go, sweat dripping from your hairline and paving wavy lines of hair that caused your forehead to glisten. Your collarbones warmed up in a different way, Lucifer’s hot breath filling the space between the both of you. 

His thrusts grew anxious over time, but his hips never once hit your ass which might have scalded your stomach further; the fact that this man possessed an iron grip over his control in his strokes, he had been careful not to taint you—he only took from places he knew both of you would be enraptured in—and absolutely nothing less. 

“Honey, I can’t—” he hissed through gritted teeth as his fingers curled in your hair. His eyes wandered down to how your breasts bobbed to his strokes. He moaned your name, and if the car hadn’t been shaking from Lucifer’s rutting, it shook from the way he proclaimed your name and dropped his head like he was bowing to a god. “Holding me so tight—you worried I’m gonna let go, sweetie?”

“No—ngh! You just feel so good I c-can’t!” You yelped in time with each thrust that followed. “Luci, I—fuck!”

His head perked up, just like the bundle of nerves in that oh-so familiar spot. An old friend. 

Lucifer gave a determined grin, sweat trickling down his cheek as he paused to wipe it away. 

“Well, hello,” he greeted in a low sultry voice.

He resumed fucking you, but this time he had you screaming his name as his length rubbed up against that spot your body purred to. You shivered and your walls clenched, causing Lucifer to falter.

“F-Fuck, that’s it, good girl,” he grunted in between controlled thrusts that had your gut squeezing. He never once missed. 

When your walls fluttered, Lucifer chuffed through his teeth and through the fog of your satisfaction, you indulged in the smell of cotton candy sweat. 

“You’re close, princess, so close, I can feel it.”

You gritted your teeth with whatever strength you had left, even your hands had begun to slip from Lucifer’s shoulders. 

 “You?” Was all you could manage. 

“Me? Baby, seeing you like this has me fucked out,” Lucifer huffed. “Shit!”

You squeezed his shoulders before he could pull out.

“In me, Luci!”

He froze, shaking his head to wave away his own daze to focus on you, the things your … request entailed. 

“Darling, I don’t have a condom on,” he whispered as the inner corners of his brow quivered. 

“You’d make beautiful fucking babies, Luci—I wanna carry them.” Your voice had been obliterated from the sounds Lucifer had fucked out of you. Wispy breaths was what it had become—but the red in your cheeks and your weakened yet felicious state made Lucifer smile.

“You’re not thinking straight,” he said your name and it was nearly enough to get you back down from the clouds. “C’mon, honey …”

“Luci …” you whined. “You’re so goddamn hot when you’re being responsible …”

“Yeah?” He laughed softly, cradling your cheek in his hand. 

“Yeah …”

“Let’s finish you up, okay?” He reached up to kiss your forehead but you squeaked from the fact that his length slid deep into you in the process. “Ah, sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” you quoted him from last time, and his surprise melted into a warm smile instead. “Please fuck me.”

“As you wish.”

You screamed brokenly as he continued his ruthless pace from before, and he remembered the exact angle to hit. Your nerves were about ready to jump out from your body as you skyrocketed back into the clouds, your orgasm coming sooner than you could warn him. 

“Cumming!” He gritted through his teeth as his horns shot up from his head and you both came together with Lucifer’s cum hitting your dress instead.

Your head hung off the car seat’s headrest. Sweat shimmered on the leather you laid on, and your legs trembled from how long they’d been held at the same position. The only thing you two shared now was open-mouth breaths. You thought of moving, but your muscles were well past its limit to even be lifted.

Lucifer twisted around to grab tissues from the passenger seat compartment. In just a few seconds, he wiped out most of the evidence of himself on your dress. By this time, his horns were long gone and his eyes had returned back to its original form.

“Fuck … I didn’t think this through …” Lucifer grumbled to himself as he hit his temple with his palm. He ran his fingers through his hair before he mustered a weak smile for you. “Wait here, I’ll grab your clothes from your room.”

You exhaled audibly as he vanished with a swirl of sparkling red smoke. 

A few breaths of silence by yourself wasn’t ideal, especially when you felt the whine and ache of your limbs in the fact that you were as good as scattered leaves across autumn grass. 

Just then, your phone buzzed from the cupholder.

You winced as you bent to take it.

Brat >:)

you better not be fucking him right now i swear to FUCKING GOD [ 13:06 ]

you disappear for years and suddenly you’re back and you’re telling me YOU’RE DISAPPEARING AGAIN?&2$:$$3;: FUCKING [ 13:05 ]

HELLO? THE FUCK [ 12 :57 ]

i’m not gonna let even the king of hell himself keep you from me [ 12:16 ]

because i am not done with you yet [ 12:15 ]

bitch you better show me whatever the fuck you wanted to show me earlier before daddy decided to whisk you away like some fucking fairy tale prince [ 12:15 ]

You chuckled as you swiped the notification.

You [ 13:06 ] : bitch you know the dick is good cmon now

Vox [ 13:06 ] : i mean this in the most platonic and murderous way possible, i will fuck you myself if that’ll get you to ACTUALLY BE A FRIEND AND VISIT ME INSTEAD OF DISAPPEARING FOR YEARS

Vox [ 13:06 ] : i already have to deal with the heartbreak of al

Vox [ 13:06 ] : ykw doesn’t matter THE POINT IS THAT YOU ARE THE SHITTIEST FUCKING FRIEND AND I MISS YOU IS THAT NOT REASON ENOUGH

You [ 13:07 ] : okay, okay, how about this sunday then lmaoo

Vox [ 13:07 ] : you better fucking believe i’ll be blowing a fucking hole through that radio prick’s hotel just to pick you the fuck up asshole

You [ 13:07 ] : if i didn’t know any better vicky i would have assumed you’re actually coming to pick alastor up HAHAHAHAAHAHAH

Vox : ( typing … )

Your phone levitated out of your hands and when you followed where it zipped off to—

“Luci!” You sprung up from the declined backrest in surprise.

Lucifer squinted at your phone as he swiped his thumb down on your screen.

“First of all, I’m honored that you’re telling people how well I pleasure you. Second of all,” Lucifer paused, leaning into you as he used his free arm to hold himself up to you. “Vox is in a world of hurt if he thinks I’m gonna let him lay a finger on you.”

“Yeah?” You copied the way Lucifer says it and watched as his face reddened.

You noticed your spare clothes on his lap and you lifted the dress over your head and discarded it on the floor of the backseat. 

You held out your hand for Lucifer to hand you your clothes.

He simply looked at your hand, then back at your naked body, then back at your hand as took it in his own.

You laughed. Hard.

“What—what’s happening why’re you—”

“The clothes, baby!” 

“Oh—Oh! Right! Shit!” He finally handed you an oversized shirt, fresh underwear and a pair of shorts you used to at-home wear. “I thought you were asking for another round or something, holy shit—”

“I mean …” you smirked. 

“Honey …” Lucifer warned, as if trying to keep a predator from attacking. 

“Oh? You don’t wanna? My bad,” you replied innocently. “I was just wondering if Vox was free tonight—”

“I know you’re trying to get a rise out of me but honey …” Lucifer trailed off as he flipped your phone and shoved it into his back pocket. 

He crossed over to your seat once more and pinned you back down where you once were, one knee pressed on the side of your seat as his hands ended up on either side of your neck.

“I hate to remind you that I am the fucking devil,” his voice dripped with a poison much worse than what you’ve heard from Alastor’s static. His horns hadn’t sprouted out yet but with his eyes aching red, it wasn’t too far from reappearing. “And if you love me as much as I love you then there is no goddamn way in this realm I am sharing you with anyone else let alone some overlord who thinks Alexander is worth anyone’s fucking time.”

“It’s Alastor and—” you paused, combing through your hair idly. “Luci, Vox is only a friend from the living world—“

“A friend who thinks he can fuck you.”

“He’s in hell for a reason.” You crossed your arms.

Lucifer sighed and closed his eyes, the red dissipating from them once they reopened. 

“Listen, honey, I—” Lucifer’s gaze lifted away from you for a moment, almost like he’d been overwhelmed with the words clogged in his throat. “You’re someone I can’t afford to … mess up … again. And I know that means simply letting you be. But also, I’ve just—I’ve lost so much, and I only just got Charlie back so I …”

You lifted your arm as your hand fell on his cheek, your thumb softly stroking him back and forth. 

He closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as he placed his hand on yours. 

“I know Vox is just a friend. And I know it’s insane to think I’ll lose you to him, but … at the end of the day, this is hell. He still mocks the very thing we’re trying to achieve and I get that you’re not like that and that you’re not easily manipulated but I just …”

“Luci …” you muttered. You sat up and kissed him chastely on the cheek. 

“I think about losing you a lot. I think about it to an irrational degree. So it’s not actually something you can fix. It’s something I have to do on my own.”

“Even if that’s true, I can still do my best to be with you and make sure you feel loved everyday. I really was a dick today, I had no idea you were … I’m s—”

“It’s okay. We …” Lucifer chuckled weakly. “We made up, remember?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Luci … you know I love you, right?”

“Like the sun loves the moon,” Lucifer said. 

And you knew where it came from, maybe not its exact whereabouts but just how deep it was embedded to him, that statement; he himself had witnessed the creation of the sun and the moon. He knew the tides the two shared, the way their yearning for each other’s pull had been the natural way of things, the only way the people could ever experience day like they do night.

I know you love me because we love like its fate.

.

You and Lucifer walked into the hotel, your back slouched with Lucifer’s overcoat hanging over your shoulders as you folded your arms beneath them. 

“Hey Charlie,” Lucifer greeted, and he told her daughter who was already making her way to you that you weren’t feeling well and that you needed rest. Of course, Charlie nodded and resumed her activities with her other friends. 

You retired to Lucifer’s room, the left side of the bed while he took the right.

“I love you,” your chest exhausted what it had been used to holding for him, until you saw him.

“I love you, too,” Lucifer hummed back, a sigh escaping him like cherry blossoms in the wind. 

“I love you for the soul you are beneath your bones.”

[purpleyoonn]

baby (you complete us) 10

C H A P T E R   T E N 

Summary: Soulmates were a common occurrence, so common, in fact, that the world sought an easier way to find your other half: A bracelet that would scan your mark and match you with those who shared your mark. Within recent years, soul groups were becoming normal, and your own bracelet said you have seven matches.

Or where you wear your bracelet for ten years, and finally give up the hope you would find your soul group, only for BTS to put theirs on and see what they were missing.

Genre: soulmate au, idol au, angst, fluff, eventual smut,

Pairing: Idol BTS x Disabled MC

Warnings: angst, mentions of depression, disabled mc (Ehlers Danlos syndrome), eventual smut, fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of disability, simp bangtan

Chapter Warnings: protective bangtan, anxious mc, jungkook saving the mc, hate against foreigners, bond exploration, lots of jungkook/mc love

*Words in Italics are spoken/written in Korean*

beta'd/edited by the lovely @babyarmybias​

masterlist // chapter 9 // chapter 11

taglist:  @imnotlauriane​​  @mageprincess7​​ @m1sss1mp​​ @0funsite0​​  @strawberry-moonpies​​ @this-isthe-way​ @singukieee​​ @btsw1fe​​ @gooooomz​​  @fluffy-canada-pancakes​​ @carolinexkpop​​ @agusfree​​ @sakurarukas​​ @iamkookiesforyou​​ @skyys-universe​​ @toughbook​​ @plutoneu​​ @whisperssuga​​ @welcometomyworld13​​ @yuzon3​​ @wittyreader​​ @jnghs​​ @cyd0129​​ @exfolitae​​ @queen-in-the-shadows​​ @nen-nyy​​ @pandxthings​​ @schniti-is-in-the-house​​ @juju-227592​​ @jinseartharmysmoon​​ @wooya1224​​ @ddaeng-angmoh​​ @gratefullygrateful​​ @rorythme​​  @veronawrites​​​ @xiusmarshmallow​​​ @xicanacorpse​​​ @kalala22​​​ @ok-boke​​​ @namjoonswaifu​​​ @sweetcheeksdna​​​ @hyunjingin​​​  @promiseokza​​​ @mushroom-main​​​ @bookluver01​​​ @butterfliesinthenightsky​​

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp​​ @yourleftsock​​ @skyys-universe​​ @cryingpages​​ @strxwbloody​​  @drissteele​​ @dustyinkpages​​ @iamkookiesforyou​​ @crushedblackroses​​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​​ @blaaiissee​​  @iiitsmaria​​  @carolinexkpop​​  @azazel-nyx​​ @strawberry-moonpies​​ @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​​ @knjkitten​​ @foreverweareyoung7​​ @lachimolala22019​​ @namuficxs​​ @94z-93​​ @kimgmzmc​​ @thenaverse​​ @dahliasbouqet​​ @black-rose-29​​ @tinyoonsblog​​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​​ @stellauniverse​​ @stupendouscookiehumanmug​​ @tinyoonsblog​​ @veronawrites​​ @tatyhend​​ @singukieee​​ @m0v3m3ntsblog​​ @exfolitae​​ @butterymin​​ @queen-in-the-shadows​​ @anaspectoflife @welcometomyworld13 @slinekyu @ghostlyworld @svnbangtansworld @loisje123 @i-have-no-life-charlie @danielle143 @jcrml @softieyn @kyuupidwrites @friedlollipop @lulu-83​ @tokiodori​

———————————————

Previously on baby (you complete us):

“Well then, let me know if there is anything else you need. Congratulations Mr. and Mr. and Mrs. Kim.” Jimin helped you up, placing his hand on the small of your back again, letting your body slowly lean into his.

“Let’s go get some food, baby.” Jimin whispered in your ear, his voice soft and so comforting that you feel like you had always been here, always been in his arms. Like you had always been safe and taken care of.

You knew then and there that you would accept letting them take care of you in the ways that they wished, this feeling of safety and care something you needed to hold onto, and trusted them to give, only hoping they would feel the same with towards you.

The Korean BBQ place the boys had taken you to was a hole-in-the-wall place, inconspicuous and rightly so. It was the perfect place to just get away for a while, no one to worry about following you.

The interior was sleek and shiny, everything seeming to catch your eye as the host showed you and the boys to a booth in the back, hidden by one of the large dividers that seemed to separate every table or booth from one another.

“Thank you.” You nodded your head to the host, who seemed to only blink at you before walking away. You pouted a little at his behavior, not used to this kind of reaction when you were trying to be polite. Maybe things are different in Korea? You thought.

Jimin sat down first, then Taehyung gestured for you to sit in between the two. You thought it was just them being nice, but really, they wanted you in between them to keep you safe. They felt better knowing that they were on the outside of the booth, helping to keep their protective instincts at bay with you in the middle.

“Here, baby.” Jimin spoke up, handing you a menu from the stack on the edge of the table. You took the menu from him while also trying to take in your surroundings. You recognized the grill plate in the middle of the table, and the bowls of banchan, familiar with a couple of the side dishes placed in front of you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t recognize any of the words on the menu, struggling with your minimal knowledge of Hangul to be able to make out any of the dishes or options. You recognized bulgogi, but that was it.

“I, uhm, I will just have whatever you are going to order.” You told your soulmates, feeling a little uncomfortable that you couldn’t read the menu. You felt a little dumb, which was stupid as it was an entirely new language for you. You couldn’t possibly be expected to know the language within the span of a couple weeks.

“Oh, darling. We’re sorry. Here.” Taehyung moved closer and sat right next to you, his thigh touching yours as he began to read the menu to you. His voice was soft, nothing in the way of feeding your embarrassment. He made you feel safe.

Jimin began to look over your other shoulder, his chin rested on you as he also listened to Taehyung rattle off the different meat options to you. It felt nice, almost domestic even, as you sat there on your date. You froze as your eyes widened in shock.

Oh my. This was a date, wasn’t it?

Your shock was cut off by Jimin’s phone ringing, the singer leaving to answer it once he saw the caller ID. That left you and Taehyung, until his phone rang as well. You saw it was Jin, but the older man moved out of the booth and a couple feet away as he answered the call.

You were now left alone in the center of the booth, an open menu in front of you. You tried to remember how Taehyung described the different options, mouthing the words as you read them slowly to yourself, trying to become familiar with them. You had heard that would help you to better learn the language.

“What will you be ordering?” The host from before came over with a notepad, staring you down with what you see as a slight distaste. You didn’t know what he said though, and you could only assume he came to take the food order.

“Uhm…” You have no clue what the boys were going to order, and they were not here to answer that so you were unsure what to do. For now, you could try to order the bulgogi at least. You guessed that would be a common meat for Korean BBQ.

You tried reading out some things from the menu only to hear a scoff.

“Stupid foreigners.” The man snapped his notepad shut, making you look back down at the menu, feeling extremely embarrassed and uncomfortable. “You don’t need to be eating anyways.” The man looked you up and down, only furthering your embarrassment and having you cross your arms in front of your stomach.

“Excuse me.” You didn’t look up at the new voice, trying to hide the small tear that had gathered its way to your waterline. You knew by the tone of the host’s voice that you were being insulted, and you could only guess the reason why.

You had read about the hate that some foreigners faced while in Korea, but for some reason, you never really expected to experience it for yourself. You also never really thought you would step foot in Korea, either.

The host turned around to see Jungkook behind him, his expression enraged and causing the host to tense up. Jungkook’s eyes were narrowed, lips pursed as he looks the host right in the eyes.

Jungkook had heard from Jimin where they were going to take you and had asked to come along. He knew the older four were busy in meetings this morning, specifically to discuss you and measures for your safety and how the impact from your announcement and accounts on social media would go. The younger soulmate didn’t want to be alone and wanted to spend time with you as well.

What he didn’t expect was to show up to you sitting by yourself, almost in tears as the host who should have been taking your order harassing you. That was not gonna slide with him.

“You are going to bring us our normal order, send your manger with it, and you will do this after you apologize to my soulmate. Now.” Jungkook’s tone was scary, it had you tensing up and looking up to see the way he looked at the host.

You had no clue he would be coming, and you were a little happy to know that you would no longer be alone, even if only for a couple of seconds.

“I am sorry, Miss.”

“In English.” Jungkook hissed out in English, sorely losing his patience with the host.

“I am sorry, Miss.” The host almost spat out as he shook in his spot before rushing off and away from the scary soulmate standing at the end of the booth.

You watched as Jungkook then scooted into the booth, sitting next to you, and pulling you into his arms.

“I am sorry about him. You did nothing wrong. Where are Jimin and Taehyung?” Jungkook reassured you before asking where his other soulmates were. 

“They both got phone calls.” You pushed out, feeling more comfortable now that you were in his arms. You could tell by what happened that Jungkook just defended you, and you appreciated it, scooting even closer to the larger man and placing your head on his shoulder, seeking the comfort you needed.

It was new, being able to seek out comfort. Despite how your family and friends thought you hated physical touch, you often craved it, especially when feeling down or uncomfortable. It was weird to you that the boys were always ready to hold you, often just pulling you into their arms or wrapping them around you.

Jungkook was happy when you moved even closer, resting against him in the safety of his embrace. It made him feel important, like he could protect you from everything. 

He will protect you from everything, he swore to himself, pressing his lips to the top of your head as he cleared the menus from in front of you.

It was quiet, a nice quiet, while you both waited for the food to arrive, and for Jimin and Taehyung to end their conversations. Jimin ended his phone call first, apologizing refutably when he noticed the way Jungkook clung to you. He had felt panic in the bond and he tried hard to end the phone call but it was the head of one of the companies he was an ambassador for, and he couldn’t be rude.

Taehyung was a different story. Jin was on the phone trying to convince Taehyung to bring you over to the house for dinner and movies. Taehyung didn’t know if you were quite ready for it, and he could tell you were exhausted from the last few days. 

Which was understandable since you had a full day of travel to a foreign country, that you were then trying to navigate without full comprehension of the language on top of meeting your seven soulmates for the first time, in person. He didn’t want to push you byt asking for more right away.

When he finally did get off the phone, the food had arrived and Jungkook was cooking the different meats while Jimin was showing you how to make a lettuce wrap with the bulgogi and banchan.

“Is everything okay?” Taehyung asked, seeing how you clung to Jungkook and the way your eyes were red as you looked up at him.

“The host seemed to think that he could be rude to our baby. Calling her horrible names I won’t repeat, all because she struggled to speak Korean.” Jungkook spoke, his voice hard yet calm, not wanting to scare you again with his tone. He had seen how you reacted only minutes ago when he arrived, he didn’t want to see you react like that to him ever again.

Jimin and Taehyung both tensed up, anger filling their veins as heard Jungkook’s response. They were mad at the host, but they were also mad at themselves for not being able to protect or defend you.

“Well, let’s hope Jin or Yoongi-hyung don’t find out. That would not end well.” Jimin noted, moving behind you to give Jungkook a chaste kiss to the lips in thanks.

Taehyung moved forward, catching Jungkook’s eye as he took the prongs from his mate, taking over the grill as his own thank you. He would give his mate a better thank you later, Taehyung decided. But, for now, he was content to watch the way his mate held you, the way your lips turned up in a soft smile when Jimin told you about some of their military escapades.

They had only been out of the military for four months, serving their specified time together under the Soul Bond law. They could not be separated for longer than a week, given how old their bond was. Even Yoongi, under his public service order, spent a lot his time on base, having been stationed within the same city the boys were stationed at due to the soulmate law within the military.

The boys had thought that their popularity and fanbase would shrivel up when in the army but were surprised to find out they were more popular than ever upon returning. Their fanbase had nearly tripled in size, brands were practically begging on their knees to work with the soul group. Artists from all around the world were hounding HYBE to be able to work with the returned group.

They spent their two years stationed near Busan, which made for a lot of small visits to most of the families, especially Jimin and Jungkook’s. That made for a lot of funny stories, like the time Namjoon fell into a large ditch and needed help getting out of it, which is what had you laughing now.

“It took his squadron almost an hour to figure out how to get him out of the ditch!” Jimin fell on top of you, laughing loudly as he tried to get his words out.  

You had been in the small booth for over an hour, all of the food devoured by the four of you, and the leftovers by Jungkook who seemed to be a bottomless pit. You were getting a little tired though and had a lot to sort through mentally. You had experienced a lot over the past couple of days and knew you would be going through even more within the next coming week.

You were spending the day at the company tomorrow, or at least, that was the plan. The boys had a practice that was scheduled, and a couple of videos they were supposed to shoot as well as a couple of brand meetings with Samsung and Adidas that they couldn’t get out of.

They had felt awful, especially after promising that they would make time for you, but you were actually hoping to explore the building. You knew you would be spending a lot of time there and you wanted to be able to get around without having to be escorted by Songun or the boys all the time.

You know they wanted you to be able to depend on them, for everything, but there were some things you needed to be able to do on your own. Being able to move freely was one of them. You hated the feeling of being trapped, and not knowing the lay of the building had you feeling that way.

A yawn escaped your lips before you could hold it back, causing the three to look at you with the same soft smiles you had been getting all morning and afternoon.

“Well, it looks like our little kitten has become a sleepy kitten.” Taehyung teased, using Yoongi’s nickname for you. You tried to protest to his words only for another yawn to escape.

“I am so sorry. I promise it’s not you.” You tried to tell them, but they only let out a couple of laughs.

“We figured you would start getting tired soon. You’ve had a long couple of days and our instincts were already telling us it would be time to take you back to your hotel room soon.” You were surprised, not knowing their mate instincts worked like that. Maybe it was because you were the lone female? Or maybe because you were the last mate to be bonded? You didn’t know but it was kind of nice to not have any expectations set against you.

It was kind of nice to be taken care of, not having to ask for it. Not needing to worry about giving anything in return.

“Do you want to get going? I promise Jungkook will be going with us.” Jimin suggested, seeing how you and Jungkook were still glued to each other’s side. He even wondered if you would want Jungkook to stay with you. It seemed you felt safe with his younger soulmate, and that made him immensely happy.

Jimin was happy that your bond with the younger was growing, that you were able to seek comfort from him now. He could only hope that you would begin to seek him out as well.

“Yeah, I think I should be getting back. I didn’t realize how tired I was, I guess.” You nod your head, feeling a little bad that the day was being cut short, but another reassuring squeeze from Jungkook had you feeling a little better.

Getting back to your hotel, you spent more time talking with your mates, getting to know them better. The short car ride had you feeling closer to them, on a deeper level than just knowing things because you were a fan. It had you feeling more comfortable with the idea of the bond itself.

When you got to the hotel room, though, you felt this tug, like you needed one of them to stay with you. You felt this itch under your skin the closer you got to your room, and your grip only tightened on Jungkook’s hand. It was like your soul was needing the connection of the bond, like the ache you felt drawing you to Jungkook meant the bond was developing to the next level.

Your soul felt comfortable with Jungkook on a deeper level, the next soul bond level triggered. You wanted to be closer to the man, wanted him to stay with you, and it seemed you weren’t the only one feeling the soul tug between you too.

Once you entered your room, Jungkook didn’t want to let go of your hand. He was familiar with the feelings he had, and only recognized them as his fractured soul was now starting to meld back together. It happened six times before, but this was almost even stronger now. His soul and being finally felt whole again.

“Will you, uhm…” You paused, unsure if you were being selfish, asking to keep the boy with you and away from the others. You looked away from the three men, now entirely unsure of yourself again. You didn’t understand what you were feeling, and it had your mind running circles.

“I would love to stay with you.” Jungkook grabbed your hands again, bringing them to his lips to kiss the back of your hand before turning to Jimin and Taehyung.

“We will have Songun bring you a bag.” Jimin spoke up, smiling again as he figured out what was going on.

“Don’t forget to be at the company by nine.” Taehyung winked at you, causing your cheeks to become red again, something the man sorely missed the sight of.

“We will see you later, my loves.” Jimin came up and gave you a soft kiss on the forehead before giving Jungkook a kiss. Taehyung followed, placing a kiss on the cheek before moving to Jungkook. It was a sweet gesture and had you smiling big even after they left the room.

-*-*-

It was oddly domestic, laying on the bed with Jungkook and watching the Korean drama you had been watching the night before. He had his arm wrapped around your shoulders, bringing you in and letting your head rest on his chest. Your own arm was placed on his stomach, flat against his shirt and rubbing patterns into it with your thumb.

Songun had already come by an dropped off a bag for Jungkook, a change of clothes, pajamas, and other overnight necessities for him. Instead of being in a pair of baggy jeans and an oversized jacket, he was now lounging in a pair of sweats and a black t-shirt. The sweatshirt he had been wearing, you had taken for yourself, pulling it on over your own pajamas.

You decided it was your mission to collect their sweatshirts like infinity stones, needing one from each to complete your collection of comfort clothes. You loved the feeling of them, how soft the sweatshirt was and the familiar smell it provided.

“Thank you for staying with me.” You whisper to him, moving a little closer to him and gripping part of his shirt in your hand.

“Of course. I could never say no to you or the bond.” He breathed out, gripping you tighter and bringing you even closer. You were practically laying on top of him at this point.

“The bond?” You asked, curious of what he was talking about. You had read a lot on soul bonds when you were younger, and you didn’t remember reading about anything like this.

“When something happens to trigger the next level of the bond, it can create this need or pull between the soulmates. I’ve felt this six times before and it just means that our souls are now beginning to pull back together into one.” Jungkook explains, running his fingers through your hair.

“It means that your soul felt safe enough and close enough with my own that it called out to mine. This need to be nearby like this will slowly die down over time but it won’t every really go away.” You nod at his words, but then look up at him when you realize something else.

“Does this mean you still feel this tug with the others? Am I causing you pain, keeping you from the others?” You felt awful, not realizing that, by you being selfish, you were making the others suffer.

“No, no, no. You are not causing me, or the others, any pain. My bond with the others is already solidified. I will always feel the tug to be with the others, but you are my soulmate too. This tug we both feel right now, is important for our bond.” His face was only inches from your own now, the both of you sitting up from where you were laying.

You wanted to kiss him.

You wanted him to kiss you.

You felt the pull leading you forward, eyes glazing over the closer you get. Jungkook’s own desire was telling him the same, pushing him to capture your lips with his own. His grip on your back moved to tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. Your hand was no pressed to his chest, a gasp leaving your lips at the passion you felt behind his soft lips.

The kiss left you breathless, gasping for air every time your lips disconnected. It was soft and warm and everything you could have ever hoped for a first kiss. Something you had been dreaming about since you got your soul mark.

When you finally pulled away, Jungkook leaned forward, trying to follow your lips. You were sat on his lap, his hands resting on your waist. You didn’t say anything, just stared at one another, trying to breathe and grasp what just happened.  After a couple of seconds, you break out into a large grin, moving forward and hiding your head in his chest.

Jungkook laughs at your reaction, wrapping his arms around your back and holding you close. He wears the biggest grin on his lips as he hears your laughter spilling from you. Your soul was warm, body filling with unrestrained happiness. It felt as though one hole in your heart had been filled, filled by the man you were laying with, laughing as if someone told a good joke.  

This laughter was different though.

It was pure happiness.

Next Chapter

[abibliophobiaa]

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Seven: Better Together

a/n: here’s chapter seven of my purely self-indulgent fun — a little later than i anticipated because i was sick and got a little derailed. modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, fingering, and a whole lot of praise. (7k words)

masterlist

——

Life returns to normal after the gala. Or—mostly normal. You wake in the mornings, greet your husband as he sips his coffee, and you…don’t kiss. And it’s not like you don’t want to; in fact, you do. Really, really badly. One time isn’t enough. Suddenly you’re addicted to the taste of him, and yet you’ve only gotten the smallest hint. A tease at what could be. 

When you returned to your home after the gala, Charlie greeted you both at the door with a bark and a demand for endless pets and cuddles. You’d curled up on the couch as always, you in your dress and him in his tuxedo, with Charlie sprawled out across both your laps. 

Both of you had taken turns looking at one another when you’d thought the other wasn’t paying attention. Would watch Steve’s profile, count the dots on his skin, wonder if he’d lean in if you traced them with your mouth. Wondered what sound he’d make if you ventured further, southward against his neck, and trailed the marks you knew were there as well. And as you’d look down at Charlie, Steve would look at you, watching as though you were far more entertaining than any movie he’d put on.  

Later that evening he’d stood by your doorway and thanked you for joining him that afternoon, leaned down and kissed your forehead, and you’d slipped into your bedroom and changed. When you returned, he remained at your bedroom door, mouth opened to speak to say something, anything, and yet no words had come out. Only the sounds of his struggle. 

So you stepped forward and curled your arms around his waist. Thanked him for a beautiful night, for dancing with you, for being there for you. And then you’d closed your bedroom door and listened as Steve called Charlie into his bedroom, your own hand reaching over your bed side table to shut the lights off, enveloping the room in darkness. 

It carried on like that for days. 

Then weeks. 

You wondered if Steve regretted it all. 

 ——

 Steve hated meetings. The endless meetings. Meetings that kept him away from home, away from comfortability, away from Charlie, away from you. 

It’s a reality that crept upon him slowly, and then swiftly all at once. This realization that he’d rather jump and fall with you than never have taken a risk and jumped at all. Found himself willing to do all of that with you. Trusted you enough to be gentle with him, even despite all your teasing, your jabs, your barbs. 

But now he wants to make sure you know just what this all means to him. Wants to make sure you don’t go a day without knowing that, even though his life is in a constant state of immediacy and pressure from those around him, you’re important. You’re deserving of feeling loved, appreciated, and valued every day. 

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Harrington,” Hailey, his assistant, asks from behind her computer screen. 

“Can you have flowers sent to my address?”

There’s a knowing smile on her face as she asks, “For your wife?”

“For my wife,” he says, and though it’s been your title for months now, it makes his mouth run dry, because there’s the deeper meaning of possibly more now. 

What exactly that more might be is still to be determined, but more nonetheless. 

“Red roses are nice this time of year,” she muses. “Do you want me to have a card written out as well?”

 ——

 Honey, 

I’m sorry I’ve been so holed up with work. With the holidays coming up, things are extra chaotic. I know you’ve been really wanting a spa and nail day for yourself, so I made you an appointment for three tomorrow. Before you argue with me, you deserve it. Please. For me?

The card is signed at the bottom with ‘your husband,’ and you nearly crush the card stock to your chest, smiling down at the bouquet of fresh roses you’ve already set on your kitchen table. 

Charlie lifts his head, collar jingling as he clambers to his feet and stops near your hip. Dropping down to your knees, you rub at his floppy ears, grin still stretching your lips. 

“Charlie Boy, you really do have the best doggy dad.” He licks at your chin, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as you giggle airily. “We are pretty lucky, aren’t we?”

 ——

 By the time you return from your massage and nail appointment, and the private elevator leading to the penthouse dings, your home already smells wonderful. And the sight that greets you—even better. 

Steve’s frantically running around the kitchen, calling out, “Honey, you’re early!”

“What is happening here?” You walk into the kitchen, a little mystified as Steve rushes forward and brushes a kiss along your temple, your hand coming up to rest on his sternum in wide eyed shock. He’s already set up the kitchen table, wine glasses filled with red wine, candles lit, placemats set out and the dishes you got from your bridal shower on display. “Flowers and dinner?”

“It was supposed to be ready by the time you got home. But Charlie was acting up on his walk. I looked into those puppy training classes, but I want to go to one where I can be there with him.” He pauses, laying the towel he has draped over his shoulder onto the countertop, pulling you into your normal hug whenever you come home from quite literally anywhere. “I thought…well, I know I’ve been busy, and we haven’t exactly had a chance to spend much time together. So I figured I’d make us dinner and we could eat it, you know, together.” 

You glance up at him through your lashes, noting the hand that comes up behind his neck to rub nervously. “With candles?” 

“So I thought it could also—but only if you want it to—be a…date?” 

“We’re married,” you point out, wanting to watch him squirm just a little bit more. Because you know what he means. 

“We are, yeah. But…I figured after the gala there were some tougher conversations we might need to have. Unless you wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, which in that case I understand—”

He’s silenced by your hand gliding up and across his chest, curling at the nape of his neck, and dragging him flush against you, lips gliding softly over his own. When you pull back, his eyes flutter rapidly, tops of his cheeks staining the same color of the fresh tomatoes he has open in a container on the kitchen counter. 

Brow arching, your fingers still around the back of his neck, you ask, “Need further clarification?”

“Maybe?” 

He swallows, curling an arm around the small of your back. He noses at your cheek, your skin prickling in anticipation as he slots his lips over yours again. Warm, gentle, inviting. A sigh spills from you as your pocketbook drops to the ground, your other hand joining the one around Steve’s neck, chests closing in tight, hips flush together.  

“Steve…you made me dinner,” you muse, smiling as his forehead rests against yours, swaying you back and forth to the music he is playing from a speaker on the countertop. 

The backs of his knuckles brush the line of your temple, your cheek. “I’ve made you dinner before.”

“But not like this. With all the wine and candles.”

“Well, I was trying to make a grand gesture.” 

“Just like with my little spa day?” Your heart kicks up at that. Threatens to grow wings and fly away. Because he’s gone out of the way to do this. For you—for you. 

“Yes,” he admits. “I’m—I haven’t done this in a long time. I had to ask my assistant for some tips, so I hope you’ll go easy on me.” 

He’s laughing, but you know Steve. You know he means his words. Know enough about him to tell that when he makes a decision, he commits to it, wants to go above and beyond, and works his hardest at it. So when he says he wanted to make a grand gesture, that he even sought out outside advice, you know he’s sincere.

And you know whatever this is, whatever is brewing between the two of you, is delicate. It needs the space to grow, to be nurtured and tended to, if only so it can bloom into all it’s meant to be. If it’s meant to be. 

“Well, you’re doing amazingly,” you tell him, hands sliding down from the back of his neck to rest against his chest. 

The rapid thump of his heart beats beneath your fingertips, not wholly unaffected by the newness of touch, of…whatever new shape your marriage is beginning to take on. His fingers slide over the back of yours, brushing over your knuckles, his eyes lingering on your face with an intensity that has your throat running dry. 

That is, until Charlie notes your presence and barrels into the kitchen, paws slamming into your hip, demanding a proper hug. There to oblige him, you brush at his floppy ears, your side to Steve’s chest, one of his arms around you, the other also ruffling Charlie’s floppy head, pink puppy tongue lapping over unassuming fingers. Once the little guy is satisfied, you maneuver around Steve and tug your rings free from your finger, quickly washing your hands before sliding them back into place. 

Steve watches you intently as you wiggle the stones into place on the digit, admiring them for a moment. “You look beautiful, by the way.” 

“If I’d known we were having dinner by candlelight, I’d have worn something a little nicer,” you tell him, waving a hand around your figure, to the pair of dark wash jeans on your thighs and the slouchy knit sweater that hangs a little loosely off of one shoulder. All gifts from your mother-in-law’s business. 

He's still wearing his slacks, having had to go to a job site despite it being Saturday and your favorite powdery blue button up he wears. Brings out the greenness in his hazel eyes, a fact you only know because that spill you’d taken on the treadmill some weeks ago now, and the kiss at the gala, where you’d gazed into them long after he kissed you, marveling at the man.  

“You look perfect,” he reassures you, gripping your shoulders and leading you into the living room. “Dinner should be ready in about thirty minutes, so you kick your feet up, I already put out your slippers and some of your cozy socks you like. And give me one second and I’ll grab you your glass of water. Oh—and here’s a blanket.”

“Steve.” You laugh as your husband whirls around you like a storm, gathering all the things he mentions as he goes. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” 

“No, no.” He rushes back over with your water and places it in your hand. “You just relax.” 

And you’re not about to argue with your husband. Not when he looks like this, hair windswept, facial hair freshly trimmed, forearms on full display because he’s spent the better part of the afternoon preparing a home cooked meal for you. For your date night. 

True to his word, your meal is ready a half hour later, his form appearing before you, one hand outstretched for you to take. He helps you to your feet, making room for you at his side, and walks you the distance to your kitchen table. He’s dimmed the lights a bit more, the candle on the table bathing the room in an orange firelight. The man in question slides your chair out and gestures for you to sit despite your protesting, and pushes you in closer to the table once you’ve sat. 

He then rushes around to the other side of the table and sits across from you, gesturing to the various things he has strewn about on the table. 

Your bowls are already full of fresh spaghetti, sauce just the way you prefer. There are meatballs in one glass container, and cheese in another bowl beside. He’s even made garlic bread, which rests in a little basket you’d received for your bridal shower. Everything smells delicious, makes your mouth water as you lift your wine glass and raise it in the air, waiting for Steve to clink his glass against yours. 

“This all looks and smells so amazing, Steve. Seriously.” 

Grateful. You’re immensely grateful as the two of you start to dig into your meals, quiet chatter about your days shared over glasses of wine, spaghetti, and delicious garlic bread. He talks about the newest build on a property, and you explain your week of clinicals ahead, and the desire for your Thanksgiving break to finally approach so you can have some real time to simply relax and just be. 

“That reminds me,” he begins, sipping his water. “My mom is doing Thanksgiving at her house this year. It’ll be a small event. Just my grandmother and Theobald, Cami and their kids. Unless we wanted to go back to Hawkins? It’s really up to you…I haven’t told my mom our plans.”

“My dad and Caroline are actually going to spend the weekend with my grandmother. I figured we would be doing something with your family, so I told my dad we’d be around for the holidays at some point—if that’s okay.” 

“Absolutely,” he says, brushing his fingers over yours where they lay interlaced in the middle of the table. “Splitting the holidays. That was easy enough.”

“We’re getting good at this, Harrington,” you tease. 

“That was my next…topic of conversation.” The status of your relationship. The questions as to what this is and isn’t. The decisions of where you go from here. 

“Right.” You place your fork down against your bowl, swallowing thickly. “So there was the gala.”

“That happened.” His fingers brush yours again, a comforting sweep. Back and forth, back and forth, like a sweet little metronome. “So I guess the question is…what do we want it to mean? Because I want to start by making it clear to you that I do, uh, have feelings for you.”

Chest tightening, you grip his fingers tighter, feeling the corners of your smile tick upwards. “I have feelings for you too. So…now that we have that out of the way…”

“I want to do more of this. Buying you flowers and going out together alone. On real dates. No business obligations attached. Just spending time with you, getting to know you, exploring this.”

“I’d like that.”

“And I want to do this,” he says, squeezing your fingers. Then, he leans over the top of the table to brush your lips briefly with his mouth. “And that, if you’d like to.” 

Your eyes flutter open, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I’m…very open to all of that.”

“We don’t complicate it with more labels.”

“We just let things happen the way they’re meant to.”

Let the pieces fall where they may. Without the pressure of placing any expectation on it. Exploring the parameters of your relationship while legally married, knowing either way at the end of it all you can go your separate ways. It’s a terrifying risk, but you know in your heart it’s worth it to at least try.

“Exactly.” 

“Sounds like a deal, Mr. Harrington. We should shake on it.” He holds out his hand between the two of you jokingly, but you’re leaning in once more, breath teasing along his lower lip, and he knows you’re not interested in sealing this deal with a mere handshake. Instead, you seal it with a kiss, resting in the warmth of his skin against your own. 

A little breathless when he pulls away, Steve whispers, “Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Harrington.” 

 ——

 You’re no expert on Steve Harrington. Not by any means, even after the five months you’ve now been married. Since the moment you decide to begin a real relationship, you start to really explore the intricacies of your husband. He’s a morning person, he likes things a certain way, and he can tend to get flustered easily—though he won’t let it show. You can still sense it in the tension in his shoulders, the furrow of his brows, the clench of his jaw. And today, as you sit on your living room couch with Charlie’s head resting on your thigh, and a book on the other, you sense it in the way he walks into your home with a hollow stare. 

The way he buries his face in Charlie’s neck as he enters the living room and the puppy knocks him onto the ground. The way his eyes are red rimmed as he finally extricates himself from the flailing set of paws on the ground and makes his way over to where you sit, kissing you in greeting. Your hand slides up to cup his cheek, tilting his head to look at him—to really look at him. His cheeks are damp, and your heart nearly cracks down the center at the implication there. 

Briefly, you imagine your husband’s forearms straining as he grips the steering wheel in his car. Imagine the tears he must have hid in his car before coming up to see you. Because he hadn’t wanted you to see. Not really. Always so bright and loving, always so strong for you. 

“Steve?” It comes out as a whisper, and he’s turning his head from you, his breath a shaky inhale as he tips his head to the ceiling. “Are you—”

“I’m going to go get ready for bed. Long day, I just want to get to bed early. Rain check on our movie?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stutter, frown growing. “Sure.”

He’s gone. Disappears from the room without another word, leaving you in the solitude of the unknowing. The wondering if he’s okay, what he’s thinking, if there’s anything you can do to help improve his mood. With the click of his bedroom door in the distance, you try to focus on your book, on the television playing in the background, on Charlie’s breathing. But the longer you go without him, the more you fret. Wanting to be near him, if only to be there as a presence, as something who cares for the brooding man down the hall. 

Resolve settling into place, you toss your things into the kitchen sink and make your way down the hall, gather some clothes to change into for bed, and pause when you arrive in front of Steve’s bedroom. Nervous knuckles hover over the doorway, knocking twice—and then linger. Wait as silence drapes over the room, leaving your heart to race within your chest. 

“Steve…?” You call out his name into the silence, voice a little wobbly. Nervousness ebbs and flows as the silence prolongs. As you’re met with nothing but your own breathing to keep you company. 

And then, very quietly, “Yeah, baby?” 

The newness of the title sends a shiver of pleasure down your spine. You push it away, wanting more so right now to comfort the man inside than anything else. Fingers curl around the door handle, pushing it open just enough to see the man laying there in a pair of sweatpants, room chilly from the central air, bare chest on display. His hair is in disarray, face freshly washed, hair still damp from his shower. There’s the slightest hint of his vanilla shampoo in the air, a comforting sugary sweetness synonymous with your husband. 

“Can I…can I come in?” The door opens a little wider, leaving room for Charlie to prance on in, settling himself on the doggy bed in the far corner of the spacious room. 

Steve lets out a long sigh, fingers curled around his phone moving to place the device on his bedside table. He slides his glasses off his face next, popping them into his glasses container, before settling back down against the fluffy pillows and offering you the slightest hint of a smile. 

“Sure,” he says, a little softly, a little strained. 

Heart dropping into your stomach, you glance down at the small heap of clothes in your hand, and then to the adjoined bathroom. “Do you mind if I—”

Processing your question, he shakes his head, seemingly a little faraway from you. “No, yeah. Please.” 

Without another word, you slip into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a gentle click. A long exhale spills from your lips. Dressing quickly, you take in your reflection in the mirror. Thin sweatpants, a comfortable hoodie, face freshly washed and dried. Satisfied, you toss your clothes into the nearby hamper and slip out of the bathroom, wandering over to the side of the bed. Brows raising imploringly, Steve lifts the edge of the comforter in answer, allowing you to crawl into the space he’s created with his body. 

You choose the pillow beside him. Close enough where you can feel his heat, can run your fingers along the side of his body if you wish, could lace your fingers through his. But you’re not crossing the proverbial pillow wall unless he gives permission to do so. As much as you want to.  

“Did something happen at work?” you ask him, smiling as his hand reaches over and brushes along the back of your forearm. 

“Just the usual. People think I’m…too young to really know what I’m talking about. Anything that goes wrong is thrown at me, and I get those looks of disappointment. And I just think if only my dad were here. If only he were here, I’d know what to do. But I don’t. I don’t and then Theo looks at me like he’s so happy to see me fucking it all up. Because that will have meant he was right.”

“That he was right?” Your head shifts on the pillow, eyes flickering up to his as he angled his head a bit and takes in the sight of your face in the dimly lit bedroom. 

Shifting, he rolls over onto his side, head resting on the pillow mere inches from yours. His hands settle beside yours, his fingers brushing along the backs of yours, gently lacing them together after a moment, squeezing tight. “That I’m not ready. That I wasn’t ready. That the company should have gone to him.” 

“But that’s not true, Steve. You’re a hard worker. I know you are. You sacrifice so much for everyone, even me, and they have to see all of that. They have to. No one is perfect—not all the time, anyway.” He leans into your touch, your free hand having come up in the middle of your speech to rest over the stubbly cheek of your husband. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, turning just enough to press a kiss into the center of your palm. Your skin tingles in answer, smile warming your cheeks. 

“Always, Steve. Always. You’re there for me, I’m there for you. It’s an even exchange.” 

“You know, Theo hates me because he spent years training under my father. He spent all that time thinking the company would be going to him one day. And…I honestly thought that, too. I was shocked when I saw my name.” He pauses, mouth flattening into a straight line. Your thumb glides over his stubbly cheek once more, encouraging him to continue. “The company should have gone to him. But it didn’t. So I thought maybe my dad saw something in me that I didn’t. But every time I fuck it all up, I can just picture the face he always made when I did something wrong, and I always hated when he looked at me like that.”

“When he looked at you like what?”

“Like I was a disappointment.”

And there it is. The words that immediately wedge a knife into your heart for him. The thought of a younger Steve, wanting his father to see him for him. Not for what he could do for the company, not what he lacked, but merely for being his son. The youngest Harrington. A child to a man who expected so much of him. Placed him on a pedestal he’d never been meant to stand on, only to watch him fail time and time again in the eyes of someone who never would be happy. Not really. 

“You are not a disappointment.” The vehemence in your voice shocks you. But the anger brimming in your blood is not for the man lying beside you. No, it’s for the man who no longer resides on this side of earth, and yet has engraved years of doubt within your husband’s heart. 

“You’re biased.” He sighs, breaking off into a laugh. At the quick shake of your head, he continues, “It’s silly, maybe, but I thought maybe if I could just do right by the company, my father would finally be proud of me from wherever he is now.”

“Steve…” Your body burrows closer to his, sighing as an arm slides low along your waist. Pulls you closer. Close enough where you can wrap your arms around him and press your cheek into his collarbone. 

He exhales deeply. “We never had a close relationship. My parents were a bit older when they had me. His form of love was a stern yell when I got a C in class instead of an A. Or pointing out every bad swing in baseball, because ‘Harrington’s are winners.’ It was only when I got older we talked more, and I think that was more so because once I was old enough to, he expected me to work for him. So I was more a worker than a son.”

“You just wanted him to notice you.” And that breaks your heart. Makes your eyes burn in a way that has you sniffing loudly. 

“Silly, right?” His chest shakes with the rasp in his voice, and you grant him the privacy of his emotions, keeping your face pressed tight against his chest as he heaves with the weight of it all. 

“Not at all. You shouldn’t have ever had to fight for his love. No child should. You’re his son. That should mean everything. I’m so sorry.”

“My mom and I really only got closer when he passed. I think she realized I’m really all she has left. And I wanted to resent her for it, be mad that it took him dying for her to notice me, you know? But I couldn’t.”

Sighing, you run your hands up and down the lines of his hard back, smiling to yourself when he relaxes further into your embrace. “It’s not a bad thing to want to be loved by the people who should love you the most.” Leaning back a bit to look in his eyes, you catch the softness there. Note the way his eyes flicker from your eyes and downward to your lips, then drift back up again. “We crave it as humans. And you have such a big heart, Steve. I’m not surprised you were able to be open to her, even after all the years of hurt you must have experienced.”

Huffing, he leans his forehead against yours. “You’re being too nice.”

“I am nice, Steve. I’m only partially serious when I joke about killing you in your sleep.”

That has him smiling. And though it’s only been gone a little while, you’ve missed it dearly. 

His next question has you stilling within his arms. “Will you…stay?”

“In your bed? With you?”

“No, with your other husband.” He chuckles, shifting you so you sprawl out onto his blankets beneath him, giggling as his nose nudges yours. 

“I have another husband?” you ask, just as his lips ever so softly coast over yours, breaking off at the first wiggle of his fingers along the span of your ribcage. Like this, you wriggle and writhe beneath him. Like this, you feel every inch of him along every inch of you. Hard lines against your softer ones. His hips against yours, his lips at your shoulder, your sides jolting with your laughter, limbs kicking out wildly to try and stop him. “Stop, stop—yes! But no pillow wall like in the Maldives.”

He leans down, and you reach up enough to kiss him. “No pillow wall. I might cuddle you, if that’s okay?”

“I'm kind of hoping you do,” you tease, rolling over onto your side as he reaches over and shuts the light, shrouding you both in impenetrable darkness.

Steve settles in beside you. Unlike in the Maldives, he doesn’t begin stacking an endless row of pillows to create a divider. No, this time he comes in close, his chest along your back. Arms looping tight around your waist, pulling you in as close as possible. Legs tangle together beneath bed sheets, fingers twine over where they rest along your midsection. 

It’s quiet for a time. And then, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yeah, honey?” He lets you know he’s awake with a kiss at your shoulder. 

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, you whisper. “You’re a good man. I’m proud of you, and I know that might not count for much, but I am so proud of you.” 

“No. No. That does mean a lot.”

“Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight.”

There’s another pause. Then, “Hey, Steve?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“I'm tired.” He practically moans it in your ear, face pressing into your neck. Your cheeks warm from the proximity. 

“Guess no kiss before bed then.” A pout lines your lips, though you know he cannot see it.

“Fine, fine, fine I’m up.”

“Nope, now I’m tired,” you sigh, nuzzling deeper into the endless pillows on your husband’s bed. 

“Get over here.” He grunts, shifting up onto his elbows. There’s barely a moment to argue, for his fingers curl around the base of your cheek and bring your face closer to his. 

His mouth is warm, welcoming, and lovely before bed, you decide, eyes fluttering closed. 

“Mmm,” you hum, cheeks hurting from how hard you smile as he flops back over onto his side and makes himself comfortable once more. 

“Goodnight,” he says, and you can feel his smile against the curve of your jaw.

“Goodnight.”

 ——

 With Thanksgiving about a week away, your husband becomes nearly nonexistent. He’s there, in your home, but only in the early mornings and late at night when you’re already about to fall asleep in his bed. 

His bed, because that’s where you've slept for the past however many days have passed since the first time. It’s been this unspoken thing between the two of you. Be it drawing comfort in one another, wanting the nearness of another human, or just purely wanting to be held—you don’t argue. 

In fact, you quite like waking up in his arms. Two people who fold themselves so tight around one another in their sleep. Bodies that seek comfort and warmth, crave it, and hold it close. 

But that’s truly the only time you’ve seen him as of late. Those fleeting moments when he kisses you while you’re still in bed in the morning, and then at night just as he’s about to shut the light out for the night. 

Which is why when you find him sitting in his office before work one morning, his elbows on the desk, head in his hands, you decide to take matters into your own hands to spend time with the man. Upon clearing your throat, his head tips up, eyes catching on the long tee shirt that covers your cotton shorts beneath. The hem line brushes the tops of your thighs with every step closer to him, hinting at skin that lingers beneath, coaxing him backward in his chair. His glasses are a flash of gold in the light as you clamber down onto his lap, resting your hands on his biceps, beaming down at him. 

“Hi,” you whisper, biting at your bottom lip. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmurs, thumbing at the curve of your hips, pads of his fingers against delicate flesh. 

“Been working long?” 

“Few hours, yeah,” he grumbles, hooking his chin over your shoulder as you wrap your arms around his waist and press your forehead into his neck. The fingers on your hips slide up your back, trailing up and down gently, eliciting chills along your frame. “Sorry if I woke you.” 

His head shifts, mouth teasing at the curve of your throat, lips tilting upward into a smirk at the little sigh that spills out on his own volition from your lips. Curious hands trail down your back, sliding over the curve of your thigh, the hinge of your hip, the soft of your tummy. Another sigh fills the quiet room, and those fingers tease at the edge of your ribcage, the sides of your waist, the curve of your sports bra. 

“You’re being sneaky,” he says, breath hot against your ear, fingers spread over the dip of your waist. At your questioning hum, he chuckles, “Distracting me from work.”

“I did nothing of the sort,” you huff out, leaning back in his arms, fingers toying with the hem of his thin sweater he’d fallen asleep in. “I just wanted to spend some time with you before you went to work. Come on now, let me get some coffee for you before you go into the office, Mr. Harrington.”

His eyes roll at your teasing nickname, hand curling around your own as you rise from his lap and lead him out of the office. As you enter the kitchen, Charlie’s sleepy head raises from his paws, before he plops back down in a sleepy heap, legs and paws splayed out in front of him. 

Steve remains nearby as you get to work on making your coffees, slipping in and out of the living room just long enough to gather some of the things he’ll need for his work day. Yours iced, caramel drizzled on the inside of the cup in preparation, and Steve’s ‘Dog Dad’ mug laid out on the counter (a gift you’d gotten him as a joke, but he loved it so much he kept it and insisted on using it every morning).  

You catch him slipping on a button down shirt out of the corner of your eye, his necktie already hanging limply around his shoulders. Noting his struggle, you wander over to stand in front of him, grappling with the fabric, stilling him in his movements.

His forehead brushes yours, your voice quiet as you say, “You feeling okay? You’re feeling a little warm.” 

“Just tired,” he says, thumbing at your bottom lip. “Just a couple more days and then I’ll have some time off.” 

“Let me?” you ask, fingers winding in the tie. 

He dips his head, watching you with those dark eyes as you maneuver the fabric around, twining this way and that, before pulling it flush against his throat. His neck bobs as you linger there, holding him nearer to you, tugging teasingly. He leans down, breath skittering across your lips as he asks for your permission. 

In answering, you tug onto the tie and pull him down to you, your backside thumping against the kitchen counters as he crowds you against them, hands on your hips, gripping tight. Hot. Fervent and heated is his mouth as he claims your lips in the middle of your kitchen, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, tongue gliding across your bottom lip until you part for him with a pretty sigh. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips and teeth coasting down your cheek, along your neck, against your shoulder as you hop up onto the kitchen counter with his help, ankles curling around his waist to pull him flush against your center. “Baby…I have to…I should…”

But he’s gripping your thigh. Sliding it further open so he can press himself closer, fingers trailing along bare skin, eliciting shivers in their wake. Up and down, up and down, he trails them. Watches your face the whole time, catches the pinch of your bottom lip between your teeth, the whimper you let out as those fingers roam dangerously close to where you ache for him to touch. 

“Is this what you want?” he asks. Breathes the words along the hollow of your ear. Presses a kiss below it a moment later as you nod, nearly bucking into his hand as his fingers toy with the hemline of your shorts, then along the cotton panties. “Honey, I need your words. Do you want me to touch you?” Another kiss, this time along the curve of your neck, tongue lathing sensitive skin. Heat burns low in your belly; throbs lower still, where you can already feel yourself embarrassingly wet for the man. “Want my fingers, sweetheart? Is that what you want?”

His eyes are molten as they meet yours. Liquified honey and caramel as you nod, his lips swallowing your moan at the first slide of his fingers through your slick center. “Steve…ah…work,” you pant, eyes halting on the clock staring at you across the way, and then dropping down to the forearm you’re presently clutching tight, watching the muscles there ripple as he circles your clit, testing your reactions, learning what you like. And he’s an expert, and you want to go back in time and erase every other partner who may have come before in a momentary burst of jealousy, before catching on his ringed finger where it lays against your other thigh, holding fast. 

“You're gonna be a good girl and come for me then so I’m not late?” he asks, groaning into your open mouth as you tug him closer by his necktie, hips rolling against his fingers as one slips in, before quickly being joined by another. “Fuck. Just like that, baby. Doing so good for me.”

It’s almost obscene, the sounds he draws out of you. The squelch of your slick where he pumps his fingers between your thighs, the harsh staccato of your breath as you inch closer and closer to your tipping point—like he’s been doing this for years. Like he’s known all along exactly what it takes to have you falling apart, crying out his name. And that’s exactly what you do, inner walls clenching down around his fingers as your thighs tremble low around his hips, his left hand curling around the back of your head to claim your mouth as you whimper into his skin, chanting his name like a mantra—like a prayer. 

“I hate you.” You don’t. Not when he looks at you the way he is looking at you now. Watching your chest rise and fall, eyes on yours, tongue swirling around his slick digits. “Fuck. So much.” 

“I’m sure you do,” he practically sing-songs, sliding your panties back into your place, followed by your shorts. Draws you closer to the edge of your kitchen counters, hands on the swell of your hips. He noses along your cheek, kissing you softly this time. “As much as I want to stay here, and I really really want to stay here, I have a very important meeting this morning.”

“Boo,” you whine, ear resting over his chest where you can hear his heart thrashing wildly behind his sternum.

“I’ll text you,” he promises, dropping a kiss on your lips as you lean your head back and look up at him through your lashes. “Send me pictures of Charlie?” 

“I will,” you laugh brightly, watching out of the corner of your eye as your fur child lifts his head at the mere mention of his name. “Although I’m pretty sure you already have about a million of them by now. Are you sure you have to go?”

He kisses your pout, chuckling softly. “Yes. I wish I didn’t have to, but I do. You’re so beautiful.” 

A smile grows on your lips as his fingers run along your cheek, eyes on you, marveling. Never before have you felt so singularly the focus on a partner’s mind. The way Steve looks now…with reverence and appreciation that makes your heart soar…there’s nothing like it. You want to bottle it up, stow it away, keep it safe from the rest of the world. Keep it here, within the walls of your home, where it’s only you, him and Charlie. Your little makeshift family, but the one you both chose. 

So you allow him to help you down off the countertops and onto the floor below, your still-trembling thighs groaning beneath you as your cheeks burn hot. He drops a final kiss down onto the crown of your head and squeezes your shoulder tight, snatching his phone from where it’s resting behind you. Sliding it into his pocket, he calls Charlie’s name and hugs the excited puppy once before stepping into the elevator and reassuring you once more he’ll text you just as the doors slide shut. 

He makes it about two minutes before your phone pings. His text illuminates on the screen, the message liquifying your insides all over again.  

Husband: You coming like that on my fingers is going to be the only thing I’ll be able to think about for the rest of the day, I’ll have you know. 

Your stomach tumbles and swoops low in your belly as you type out your reply. 

You: Hurry back soon because I’m already thinking of how I’m planning on returning the favor. I know that’s all I’ll be thinking about until you get home. 

He types and stops. 

Types and stops again. 

A wicked grin curls your lips. 

And finally.

Husband: You’re cruel. 

You: See you later, handsome.

You: xoxo. 

——

please please as always let me know what you think! 🩷

[foreverfangirlsblog]

Love (Husk x Reader)

Summary:

Like Husk said, he lost the ability to love a long time ago….that was until you came into his shitty life.

Notes:

Word count: 1885

“I lost the ability to love years ago”

A statement Husk never planned on taking back. He experienced love once, he learned the hard way that it never works out. Love is trouble, love is dangerous, love is weakness.

He found it hard to open up and become close enough to even tolerate someone let alone to love.

That was, until he met you.

The day Charlie introduced you to everyone at the hotel he knew you were trouble, you gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach. He just didn’t know exactly what that meant yet.

“Anddd this is the trusted concierge and bartender, Husk”

He groaned, hoping Charlie would’ve skipped over him in the introductions if he acted busy. He turned around to greet you but lost his breath instead. He made eye contact with you then scanned your body, that’s when the pit in his stomach sank. ‘Trouble’ he thought to himself before giving you a short “Hi”

Despite his hostile attitude you smiled sweetly at him. Charlie awkwardly continued the tour and eventually showed you to your room.

Later that evening you decided to socialize a bit and visit the hotel bar. “Hey, Husk right?” you asked as you took a seat at the otherwise empty bar.

Husk just grunted in response before opening a bottle of booze for himself.

“Oh thanks..” you said reaching out for the drink.

Husk gave a half hearted laugh and move the drink away from your hand and to his lips “No no, this is for me”

“Oh,” you said awkwardly “I’ll take the same then if you have another” Husk sighed before grabbing another drink and sliding it to you. “Thanks” you said shortly.

The silence was deafening. You couldn’t stand it anymore “Night Husk” you took your drink and headed back to your room.

Husk finally let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Night Husk” ran through his head over and over again.

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

A few days later marked the first day you got to participate in one of Charlie’s group activities. She decided to pair everyone up for a scavenger hunt.

You just so happened to be paired with Husk.

“Alright let’s get this over with” Husk didn’t like the idea of being paired with you. It’s not like you did anything to him to make him dislike you, the two of you only had a few brief interactions when you came to the bar. He just couldn’t fight this empty feeling in his stomach he got when he saw you. Talking to you was worse, sometimes he felt like throwing up, so he chose to keep his words few and sentences short.

You didn’t understand why Husk seemed especially short with you. Not that he was especially warm to anyone, but something seemed different with his attitude towards you. You had wondered if it was something you had done.

The silencing was unbearable while the two of you roamed around the third floor of the hotel, looking for the clue you figured Charlie hid somewhere here. You couldn’t take it anymore “Husk, did I do something to you?”

He paused and stiffened at the question. How was he supposed to explain that you haven’t actually done anything. That he just can’t stand being around you. That he just feels weird about you. That he doesn’t know how to act or what to say around you. “I don’t think it’s you” he finally said after what seemed like an eternity of silence “I think that I’m the problem…”

You were visibly confused but he continued “I know that doesn’t make sense and sounds stupid but I��m just stubborn and think the worst of everyone and everything. I’m sorry for taking it out on you.” He was nervously rubbing the back of his neck, not daring to make eye contact with you. Not even daring to breathe, he held his breathe anticipating you to get mad at him. That’s what he would’ve done.

“I get it” you sighed. Your response took Husk off guard, why are you not pissed? “I mean we’re in hell, why wouldn’t you think that. I mean you’d have to be….well Charlie to think otherwise”

“Yeah she’s one crazy bitch huh” he chuckled slightly at your comment. “Damn I wish I wasn’t such an ass”

“Why don’t we start over?” He looked at you like you were the crazy one now “Hi my name is Y/N, what’s yours?” You stuck your hand out to Husk, waiting for him to shake it.

He smirked “Husk” he said meeting your hand.

“Pleasure to meet you Husk” you smiled at him.

“Pleasures all mine” a warm smile replaced his smirk.

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

Over the next few weeks you and Husk ended up growing closer, to everyone’s surprise.

Husk wouldn’t admit it to anyone but he loved the fact that you two finally became close, dare he say closer than anyone else at the hotel. He loved knowing things about you that no one else knew. Like how you always ordered fancy liquor with friends but secretly preferred shots or funny cocktails instead. Or how you would always stay up until the sun rose on accident when you were alive and human. He couldn’t help but love all these little quirks. Love….he was thinking about that a lot lately.

“Hell to Husky~” you teased waving your hand in front of his face to get his attention.

He growled a bit at you playfully before lining up his shot. You and the gang went to a local bar for some R&R. You told Husk you hadn’t played pool much but thought it couldn’t be too difficult, you then made a bet with him that you could probably beat him. Of course he accepted, wasn’t much of a gamble.

He took his shot and of course made it in the socket of the table easily. You had two balls left, he only had one. During his next turn he’d win. He couldn’t help but smirk “Good game sweetheart”

“Oh it’s not over yet” now you smirked and bent your torso over the table to take your shot. He couldn’t help but look down your shirt, it’s like you wanted him to look. ‘Damn there’s that fucking feeling again’

Despite being on better terms with you, knowing you, and even growing to like you Husk couldn’t help that feeling, that pit in his stomach.

When you finally took your shot Husk couldn’t believe his eyes. You skillfully hit one in but somehow sent the cue ball to the wall at the same time. Making the cue bounce back and hit the last remaining ball into the other socket. “I think that mean I won” you smiled in victory.

Husk was utterly shocked, “How the hell did you do that?”

“You’ve been played” you said as you winked at him.

Husk couldn’t help but laugh at you, “Damn I love you”

You looked at him surprised. ‘What the fuck’ Husk was panicking in his head ‘Why the fuck would I say that?!’

Then it clicked. That sickening feeling. The nervousness. Everything. He didn’t just like you. He fucking loved you.

The panic Husk was feeling was evident on his face now “Dammit Y/N- I didn’t mean-“

Before he could finish his sentence you cut him off “About my reward for winning…” you trailed off as you rounded the table, slowly approaching him “…I know exactly how you’re going to pay up now” Your hand was on his chest now pushing him against the table.

Even though Husk was still going through his initial shock he could help but grow uncomfortable in his pants. “Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”

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

The next morning you stirred in your sleep in Husks bed, causing him to wake up.

‘Shit shit shit’ he cursed to himself looking down at your sleeping form. You were slightly under him as he had his wings and tail wrapped around you protectively. He knew he had a little too much to drink last night but he didn’t think he’d do something this stupid. How was he supposed to explain this, how was he supposed to still have a relationship with you after this? It’s not like he could blame it on the alcohol, he remembered everything. Every flirty comment made while you two clumsily found your way back to his room. Every hungry kiss, every lustful praise, every intoxicating touch. He remembered every detail and he never wanted to forget it.

But he didn’t know if you felt the same. He saw how many drinks you had that night….it was one too many for him to be comfortable that you made this decision with no regrets.

He contemplated trying to pick you up and sneak you back into your room. But before he could think it through, your restless stirring turned into waking up slowly.

He half sat up but still looked down at you and you squinted your eyes open at him. “Good morning Husk” you said as you cupped his cheek lovingly.

“Good morning” he mumbled turning away from you.

‘Shit’ you thought to yourself. “Husk are you okay?”

The silence was killing you. He didn’t know what to say. He loved every minute between you two last night, but he didn’t think you’d feel the same. “Y/N I-“ you stared anxiously at him in anticipation “-I will understand if this changes things. If you wanna pretend like this didn’t happen”

Husk was still facing away from you so he was unable to read your face. “Are you kidding me?” You said quietly with a hint of annoyance. Husk turned to face you as he felt you get up from his mattress. “You say you love me then say to forget this happened?! What the fuck is wrong with you Husk?!”

He could see your face now, it was red from anger, no, with tears. You were crying, he made you cry. Husk didn’t know what to say and he coward a bit after you yelled at him, the feathers on his wings ruffled.

You fully turned from him and made your way towards the door before he got up and grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Let go Husk” you growled, but his grip tightened.

“No, Y/N please listen to me” you stop fighting him so he let go of your wrist. It’s not like you could go anywhere with him practically hovering over you with the height of his wings. “I do. I meant what I said last night. And I meant everything I did last night too…it’s just I never thought that you could like me the same way. I mean look at you, I’m just a dumb-“

Before Husk could continue his confession you cut him off with a sweet but passionate kiss. He was a bit shocked at first but quickly reciprocated and pinned you against his wall with a thud.

Your laughter broke the kiss. “What?” He half groaned half pouted.

“Nothing I just can’t help but love my adorable little kitten” you said as you booped his nose.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked at you “let’s see if you still think I’m adorable in a few minutes”

[theyapper0]

Litte details abt my Hazbin rewrite that i wanna share :)

OK SO!!! IT'S DOOOOOONEEEE!!!!!!

So I FINALLY finished drawing out everything I wrote out for some major plot point in my hazbin rewrite 😋 BUT!!!

There's some things that I have made art of or talked about that are sorta important (but they're really not, just some silly things that I pictured in this that I never got the chance to talk about yet LOL!!!)

If you don't really care, feel free to skip this but there are some little doodles here too that will basically get all my points across just as well!

-So first point, I've touched on this a little bit here but Niffty and Husk are BROS. Like fr ride or die with each other.

In this rewrite, I want Niffty to have been an overlord like Husk (or at least just as powerful as he is because I feel like Alastor is EXTREMELY attracted to power and he wouldn't just make deals with weak as shit people unless he was gaining something GRAND).

But Husk and Niffty, they both.... really hate Alastor. I think Husk is much more vocal with his hatred towards Alastor but do NOT be fooled, NIFFTY WANTS HIS ASS IN THE GROUND TOO!!!!!!

And I think it's because of this hatred, because of this shared, unfortunate situation that they've both found themselves in in regards to being contracted to the Radio Demon, I think they are really close. Like, they look out for each other and watch each others backs because who else is gonna do it? ALASTOR? LOL!!!!

-Here's my Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb designs!! I realized when I was making all those drawings for the rewrite that I never drew them! So here they are! 😋

Pentious has prosthetic arms that he made himself not too long after he arrived in Hell YEARS AGO bc I wanted to REAAALLY lean into the whole snake thing. And I also made him more steampunk-y because I think it's cool and that he'd look super adorable with little gear markings on his scales

And I read that Cherri died in around the 80's so I wanted to give her an aussie rocker look LMAOO Wild hair, big ol' hoop earrings and tattered clothes because she's COOL!!

-Niffty is the (m)hotel's maid/rooms keeper still (and it was only SLIGHTLY degrading in the beginning). The biggest reasons Alastor made her the maid is because of her OCD (he's an old man from the 1930's, he thinks OCD means being a neat freak) and because she is able to control all kinds of insects and vermin- which the hotel is INFESTED with

Niffty is also the only one with a spare key to Charlie and Vaggie's house, she's honestly the one they trust the MOST out of everyone at the hotel to have a key to their place in case of an emergency (and she only abuses it SOMETIMES)

-HUSK IS NOT THE HOTEL BARTENDER IN THIS!!!!!!

When I designed the hotel to look more like a motel, obviously there was no place to put a bar and I WANTED THAT! Like, I understand the humor in having a bar in a rehabilitation facility (it IS REALLY FUNNY I KNOW) but I really don't think that, even in this, neither Charlie or Vaggie would allow Alastor or Angel or anyone else to tell THEM what the hotel needs.

Like, they LITERALLY built this place with their BARE HANDS, I think they're both verrrry resistant to any changes and such that others may want to implement (for both the good and bad), even if that person was THE Radio Demon

So instead, Alastor had brought him in as a sorta bodyguard for the hotel (as a huge middle finger to Vaggie, who is not only the hotel manager but also is a very ready protector of this place)

(Husk DOES still sell liquor though, like that is something that is totally happening, it's just very hush-hush. He keeps it in his room and sells it to the patrons of the hotel (sometimes Pretentious and most of the time it's just Angel. Charlie and Vaggie have no idea this is happening))

(Niffty 100% knows since she's the one who cleans the rooms but she wouldn't sell out Husk because that's her bro)

-And speaking of the Radio Demon!!! Neither Charlie or Vaggie are scared of him. I mean, they're not really scared of him in canon (they could be sometimes tho ig)

Charlie is one of the strongest beings in Hell and Vaggie is (secretly) an angel who, as far as they all know, can't be killed by a Sinner. So neither of them are really threatened by him. Vaggie definitely voices this more than Charlie does, in fact, Charlie is almost always more than happy to just let Alastor talk and threaten as much as he wants because she's not violent and is very humble (that's what good people do, right?)

Alastor is also just as good of a Facility Manager of the Hazbin Hotel as he is in canon, and by that I mean he does not do his job and when he does, he sucks at it LOLLLL. He is very unhelpful.

-Sundays are the only day where the hotel isn't doing any reformative work/lessons so it's everyones' day off (it's holy day AMEN!) 

(Charlie WOULD make them pray on Sundays if it wasn't for the fact that every time she would try to guide a prayer, she would bleed from every hole in her body) 

-AND THE LAST POINT IS....

The Hazbin Hotel doesn't JUST do lessons in goodness, they also teach about the 10 Commandments and go on “field trips” to do volunteer work (soup kitchens, cleaning parks, helping Hell with one smile at a time :)

Thanks for reading and be sure to check in tomorrow for the first page of a comic retelling Charlie's meeting with Adam in episode one!!!

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

HOW DARE YOU STAB ME IN THE GUT THE IDEA OF VAGGIE BEING MORTAL!

SO RUDE!

But at the same time just... thinking about vaggie wanting to grow old with charlie. that sort of show of *trust*, of being vulnerable with charlie in a way no one's been with her before.

and it probably takes some more conversations, but... I want to hope that charlie eventually understands just what vaggie means when she wants to spend the rest of her days with charlie. and how much meaning that carries when those days are *finite*...

MY POOR HEART HOW DARE YOU

well this almost turned into a fic now didn't it? hm. whoops

(had Reinaeiry's song "Left Behind" on repeat for this ^w^;)

.... a new sinner comes to the hotel, sometime After.

they came in past the giant golden Dazzle statue out front, creep through the foyer, tense and ready for a trap, spot Sir Pentious's portrait- and the matching one, hanging up next to it

(fresh flowers sitting in vases under them both)

it's a picture of a woman. Steel grey skin, faded angel wings, a missing eye- deep laugh lines at the corners of the eye she has left

she's leaning back in a chair, sitting casually in her hotel manager uniform, her thin smile a little crooked and a little sharp- definitely someone used to having problems and finding solutions. Not someone to mess with. The walking stick in one hand is held more like a weapon

there's a wedding band on her finger, on full display she reaches up to cover the hand resting on her shoulder

(rest of that person out of sight) (hand clawed and pale as porcelain, cuff of a red suit bleeding out of frame)

and it's odd to see someone else sharing a memorial picture-

(more than one person had died a little, that day)

-but more odd than that is the way looking at the picture makes the sinner frown.

they're still frowning when the hotel founder wanders over

(done arranging for a new room) (doing double duty as hotel manager) (laughed it off earlier- hasn't yet found the time to put up a job openings ad) (a bad liar)

and she's a lanky, tall demon in a red suit, looking more like a living doll than a princess of hell, proper demon image only hinted at with the claws and the fangs

she shows off the fangs when she smiles at the portrait of the woman- then, belatedly, at the new hotel guest

(still their hotel) (still their new guest) (even After...)

she asks,

"Like them?" and smiles a little wider (wider than a human could) (a little forced now) "They're, pretty cool pictures, huh?"

the new guest hums noncommittally. Still frowning

a laugh from the demon standing next to them, clasping her hands, spinning ring on one finger-

"I guess it's harder to know how good a picture it is, if you've never met the person in it." a hard swallow. "She would've.... really liked to have be here. To meet you."

"Not sure I'd want to meet her," a quip, thoughtless, not looking over. "Kinda a scary lady."

the demon's stricken look "-does she look scary?"

a casual shrug. "Just a feeling. Seems like she meant business."

"She did..." fangs biting into lips, smile gone, shoulders slumping, the demon caving inwards. "....but not like that. She, she was scary for people she loved- and kind. And thoughtful and-"

"What about him?" pointing at Sir Pentious in full battle gear, egg boyz everywhere.

the demon's very weak attempt at a smile. "Oh, you'll see him around eventually. He comes down to visit when he can, and likes calling a lot in between."

eyebrows lifting. Realizing. "He's the one who made it to heaven?"

"He is. He-"

"But not her?"

"...."

tall frame hunching, horns out now, dark marks bleeding down pale cheeks like burnt tears. A tail lashing silently behind her.

the demon breathes carefully. Gingerly.

"She... wasn't here to be saved. Not like- not like that."

"Huh."

a dubious, suspicious noise- the hotel is still a new idea even after all these years- a brand new addition to the fabric of creation with a lot of trust issues still to iron out.

"So what happened?" the sinner prods, watching carefully out of the corner of one eye. "Why's her picture up there with his?"

that gets a smile again, strangely.

a tearful one and a thickness in the demon's voice, but still a smile as she steps forward, reaching up to the portrait frame- touching it, lightly, with a pale, clawed hand that matches the one resting on the painted woman's shoulder.

"...they both gave their lives to their friends."

the demon whispers, still smiling.

"They made their home here, in the hotel, with us, and... and they'll always still be here. They'll never. Really leave-"

the words cut off and the sinner shuffles awkwardly in the silence

staring up at the portrait together, one frowning sinner-

-one hell princess slowly leaning against the woman's gilded frame, forehead butting it desperately, clearly trying hard not to cry in front of the first new guest

(that she's had to greet on her own)

finally the sinner speaks up (uncomfortable with pity) (a dangerous, weak thing to feel in hell) scowling hard at the woman's portrait, demanding-

"Where's her spear?"

the demon turns, wet faced, surprised. "Oh- she didn't want..." Blinks. "Her. Spear?"

"The cane thing looks stupid." crossed arms, a judgmental eye. head tilted to the left like bird, like the right eye was better at looking at things- "It's just a stick. How's she supposed to deal with stuff with just a flimsy piece of crap like that? The thing doesn't even have a blade."

"It had one." murmurs the demon, still shocked. Slowly straightening. "It had, hidden inside, there was a blade- Niffty made it for-"

the demon stops. Frowns.

"But. You didn't know her. The spear... How did you know about the-"

another shrug. "Just vibes."

"Vibes-?"

"She looks like a spear kinda girl."

a flex of the sinner's empty hand, gripping empty air, glaring up at the cane in the woman's hand-

"Just seems right, you know? Better than the stupid twig stick."

the demon eyes flicking down to watch, staring. "...she called her cane that, too."

a faint comment drifting up like the ghost of years gone by.

snorting, the sinner turns away. "I bet." eyes the rest of the hotel with hands on hips, critical and on edge with that stare still burning between tense shoulder blades. "So where's my turf in this place? I'm guessing I don't have to fight for it first, right?"

"Room 12, second floor." many times rehearsed words finally popping out without thought. "Key's on the front desk. I'll show you up-"

"Don't bother." sinner already striding off, clearly glad to get away. "I won't kill anyone on the way there, don't worry."

"I wasn't.... that's not why I..."

there's something. Something about that brisk, focused way of walking. Something in the set of those shoulders-

(like a military march) (like the shoulders are braced for wings that aren't there)

(like the sinner should be carrying a spear-)

Charlie lurches forward.

"-Vaggie?"

heart in her throat, fist in her chest, frozen as the sinner pauses at the foot of the main stairs and looks back.

something in that strange face softens. (pity?) (something else...?)

"... not my name, sweetie."

the sinner's smile is crooked. unscarred eyes understanding, and sad.

"She your wife?"

no past tense. just the gaping whole in Charlie- ripped open fresh, thundering and bleeding under her shirt as she stares and stares and tries to see- "Yes." seeing ghosts where there aren't any. "We. For, for so many wonderful years..."

the crooked smile soft as well as sad now, as the sinner thumbs the room key and takes a moment, looking back up at the portrait above Charlie.

"Good for her."

a touch bitter- a sigh, sharp. Pained.

"And, you. Some of us.. never even find who we were looking for, before we lose our chance at having a life with them."

turning and gone in the next second, before anything else slips out. The glint in suddenly exhausted eyes-

Charlie, standing under Vaggie's portrait, slowly starting to shake.

Not this-

"-no."

Slowly backing up against the wall. Claws reaching out, sinking in, ruining wallpaper as the world tilts and turns and Charlie braces her weak knees against the fall.

"-it's not. It's not."

It can't be. The side of the bed that wasn't Charlie's even when she woke up curled up in it- that was real. The dusty spear propped in a corner of their room that Charlie hadn't put there and didn't want there and couldn't bring herself to move- THAT was real.

The portrait behind her, painted when the limp and her balance first started getting bad, when Vaggie still called her cane a 'stupid twig stick' but wouldn't pretend she didn't need it, wouldn't swap it for her spear when Charlie had offered, carried proudly anyway and smirked about smacking ankles when people annoyed her... mostly just thumbed it thoughtfully, when she thought Charlie wasn't looking, smiling that crooked wondering smile- THAT had been- that was-

Charlie could turn around right now and see all of it memorialized behind her (always behind her now) (always in the past, being left further behind).

Charlie had NOT seen, anything else. Because nothing else could BE real.

nothing as real as long limbs folding in, crumping under that damn framed picture, ignoring Husk's worried look from the bar. Husk, glancing up after the new guest, also frowning now-

Charlie and the old habit of hugging herself tightly back together, something not even a lifetime with Vaggie had ever fully broke her out of.

(only ONE lifetime) (not hers)

(her stupid deal hadn't worked in the end) (promise broken for nothing) (Vaggie had died)

(she can't be-)

She can't do this again.

.....

exact words are a bitch sometimes

"Don't let me die without her." (never said- and make sure she doesn't have to live and die alone either, without me)

[chubs-deuce]

Ok I just watched whole hazbin hotel show and I know what you mean about Charlie and Vaggie relationship

their have cute songs together but Vaggie to me personality wise hasn’t got that much of a personality compared to the others characters ?

I think the last 2 episodes she had more of a personality 🤷‍♀️ (this isn’t a anti post , I feel like she has a lot of potential to flash her character out more hopefully in season 2)

personally I prefer Charlie and Alastor cause I feel like theirs something there, it’s interesting and it has a lot of potential

if they wanted me to root for Vaggie and Charlie I feel like they should be friends at first and then we see them slowly falling in love , that’s my opinion of course XD

Agreed 100%

To be fair I don't think charlastor is inherently better in any way, since I recognize that they don't actually have much of a leg to stand on in canon, but they still intrigue me a lot more conceptually in fan-content, in ways that I've outlined in this post already so I won't repeat myself here lol.

Charlie and Vaggie are sweet, unproblematic, thoroughly wholesome and that is a dynamic that can not only absolutely work but also be very appealing!

Good domestic fluff is my bread and butter, but it just doesn't really hit the same when I'm not really given much of a reason to care for the pairing beyond the narrative going "look they hold hands and use pet names, isn't that cute?"

So I agree that having their "falling in love" stage be explored more would've helped a lot in elevating how and why they love each other, though it wouldn't even have been necessary, established relationships in fiction can work really well even without that if done right.

The way they're shown to first meet has SO MUCH POTENTIAL to be a great story bit to explore (I might try and do that in writing some time ngl), with Vaggie just coming from this intense of a betrayal, likely having her whole worldview usurped and now, after being taught all her life that demons are worthless scum, being shown unconditional kindness and offered a helping hand from one... There's a lot for her here to process!

Like I really feel like her repeatedly underlined trust issues could've so easily led into a sweet narrative of how meeting Charlie taught her to trust in others again, but her "learning to trust others" path was already explained with brothers-in-arms style bonding on the battle field and the rest was just kinda played off as a love at first sight thing. It had potential! It was right there! And yet!!! [frustrated groan]

I get they were probably trying to aim for combining those two points and had very little time to do so properly, but it imo just missed the mark by a painful amount...

It doesn't help that Vaggie also generally fell kinda flat as a character for most of the show, in part because she's often forced to share the spotlight and has very little focus put on her as an individual.

I really hope they do her better in the next season either way :')

I haven't given up on chaggie yet, but only time will tell if that changes.

[silverinkbottle]

Chapter 2:Titles and Tribulations

Summary: Sometimes moments are only fleeting. But the memories of them last forever.

A/N: Thanks for all the love on the last chapter! This one is a bit longer so please enjoy!

Chapter 1 Linked Below

Chapter 1: Oh, You

-> Chapter 3: Shopping Around

Titles and Tribulations

Well, the hotel seemed to be structurally sound as you peered up at the gleaming windows. A far cry from the pile of rubble that once cluttered the ground. Sighing under your breath, you raised your fist to rap on the gleaming wooden surface of the double doors. Your stoic expression shifted into surprise as your knock met bare air instead of solid wood. Followed by a piercing squeal of excitement as you found yourself dragged into the inside by hand first, feebly looking behind at the paperboys who ‘shared’ a shrug before running after you.

“Welcome to the brand NEW, Hazbin Hotel. We are so HAPPY to have our first NEW guest after our sudden refurbishment. Now as you can see-” 

It was all too easy to tune out the little Princess’s words while making the appropriate nods and hums as you followed her flourished gestures. Charlie Morningstar wasn’t what you expected, but at the same time it was. A strange dichotomy of impossible bubbliness against the rumored fierceness that lurked underneath her smile. Not like you could have gotten an interview with the poor bastards that had gone against her a week ago. 

“Oh, here is the statue of the bestest boy ever Dazzle! He was-”

Extracting your hand from her grip was like trying to scrape off slimy seaweed in the shallows. Yet, somehow you managed as you forced a polite smile on your face that seemed to dim in the brilliance of Charlie’s smile. 

“Lovely scenery, Miss Morningstar, but I am not-”

Another squeak of joy interrupted your speech as Charlies was peering around your skirts. To the huddled forms of the paperboys, their ears flat against their heads as if they could sense something about the Hellborne Princess. 

“Aren’t they adorable, these your kids- Look at their little buttons and vests. Just so-. Are..you alright?”

Her first question sent you into a coughing fit as you hastily waved off her concerns. Eyes watering as you managed the word ‘No’. It was impossible to protest as you found yourself ushered towards the bar and its’ equally grouchy but polished looking bartender.

“What can I get you? Aside from Charlie off your back, can’t help you there..”

“Gin. Tonic. Don’t you touch that.” Your last words were sent as a low hiss catching sight of a floppy ear peering around the bar front. Its paws trembling in excitement as the glass gin decanter glimmered in the lighting. 

“A little booze never hurt no one. Trust me, toots.” The other bar patron waggled his fingers at you. Angel Dust, wasn’t it? He was all but baiting the souls as he dangled a shot glass above their smaller forms.  The spider demon let out a yelp as small black holes materialized on their masks, eagerly drinking down the meager offer of liquor.

“Watch your pockets.” You retorted as you took another deep drink of your glass. Fingers tapping on the marble countertop as a timer. A telltale yelp came from their victim followed by the pair scurrying off their prize secured in their paws.

“Little bastards pickpocketed me,both of em. I must be loos’en my touch to not feel that.” Angel whined as you laughed into your glass. It made a hollow sound all too soon as there was a clink of ice. He was quick to scurry after them feebly chasing after the thieves. It was like trying to grab a shadow as the paperboys materialized their own ‘holes’ to hop in and out of utilizing the inner spaces of Purgatory. 

“I warned you. Can’t even give them pocket lint, any items bind them further to this reality. Makes them little kelptos. Can’t tell you how many pens I have lost from that unfortunate hab-” 

“FUCK.” Angel let out a yelp as he pulled back one of his arms, now bearing a fresh bite mark as he daringly stuck in hand in one of the tiny portals. Curious. He was far too curious as you withdrew your little black book from your pocket to add to your notes. It seemed to be a running theme of eavesdroppers as you sighed before lowering the book to allow Charlie a better look at it. At least she was too polite to rip it from your grasp.

“Angel Dust. Porn Star. Mafia ties? Power-” Charlie flushed over the word before sheepishly passing the book back over. 

“So, a little black book of secrets is it? Been a while since I have seen one of those.” Husker rasped before holding out his paw to flick through the book. His eyes widened as he too quickly passed over the book. 

“Are you some kinda journalist?” Husk growled with an edge of suspicion as you gave a wry smile. Something like that he was close enough. While Charlie, an apparent optimist clapped her hands together before once again taking your hands in her clutches. 

“Maybe you can do a piece of the hotel. For its grand reopening. Oh, oh, we can start with the introduction of the new parlor room. We even installed new stained glass windows that really make the ambiance pop. Oh, please say yes, it would be a perfect-”  

“Perfect time for her to leave. You mean, right darling Charlie?” Alastor’s less than pleased tone boomed over the room as all eyes watched the Radio Demon descend the stairs. Microphone in hand. As if it hadn’t been broken into two pieces like a match last time you saw it. No, this was entirely Alastor’s bravado instead of the mess that you met before.

“Better make me another drink, it seems.” You muttered under your breath as the faintest hint of smirk slid over your lips as Alastor’s gaze flickered from Charlie’s tight grip on your right hand, while your left slid protectively over the little black book on the bar. 

“Hold that thought, Husker.” Alastor snapped as the bartender’s scowl deepened before slamming the decanter of gin back on the bar. 

“Husker do this, Husker don’t do that. I have about had it with-” Husker’s grumbles were ignored by Alastor as he seemed to have grown a faint sliver of patience. An impressive feat if it wasn’t causing your glass to remain empty. Even the ice cubes were melting as you rattled the cool glass.

“Why should she leave? She’s a new guest.” Charlie protested as you chuckled at the thought. You, a Sinner looking for a chance of redemption. Perhaps, you should have tried to write funnies after all. Or perhaps the Princess of Hell had a strange bizarre sense of humor.

“Apologies Princess, I am afraid you have gotten the wrong impression of me.” You explained gently pulling your hand from hers as you tried to find the right words about the entire affair. It wasn’t like you had planned to move into the hotel to stir up the pot. Far from it.

“FOR THE LAST TIME I AM NOT YOUR SECRETARY. YOU CAN’T EXPECT ME TO WRITE DOWN YOUR THOUGHTS FROM LAST WEEK AND REMIND YOU OF THEM. CHARLIE, I CAN’T- A shrill rant was punctured by the ruffle of wings as a gray streak quickly took refuge behind the princess. Wings? A quick flicker through your notes as you could feel Alastor’s gaze burning into your hands with each whisper of the paper.

“Please don’t worry, Vaggie. I have a solution to your concerns.” You muttered as you slipped the book back into your pocket. 

“Charlie, sweetheart, please tell your girlfriend, a genius like me needs-”

“Every thought dictated back to him like a parrot. Yes, I know that sir. I am afraid I hear your voice in my dreams. Or should I call them nightmares. Who knows what sort of information you stuffed into that poor girl’s head.” You chirped lightly as you swept your way past Alastor. As if he was a mere tree amongst the woods. Dropping into the smallest of curtsy as Luicfer clapped in his hands together in an all too familiar gesture. Like father like daughter, you soon found yourself caught in his grip, a familiar hand around your waist as he ushered you back to the group.

A shell-shocked, wide eyed group as all you could manage was an almost shy wave as Lucifer began to sing your praises without a hint of awareness. 

“Everyone, may I present the newest staff member of the hotel. Well, my personal staff member. My ever diligent, steadfast and almost too prompt Secretary. It’s been my request that she take up quarters here.”

“Well, it was said work is a new kind of Hell. At least it will be a stylish one.” You deadpanned weakly as a burst of laughter broke the tension in the air. Your tail flicked angrily as Alastor wiped a tear from his eye as he managed to speak through his laughter.

“You. A Secretary. For HIM. You must be-”

Anger seized your heart as your tail thrashed about, your ears flat as venom dripped in your next words. 

“Fuck you. I wasn’t aware I needed my ex-husband’s permission to do my job. One that I am quite exceptional at.”

“HUSBAND?” A chorus of voices rang through the silent foyer as Husker let out a low whistle before thoughtfully pouring the gin into your abandoned glass. The alcohol’s blissful coolness did little to dampen your temper as another word left Alastor’s curled lips.

“Till death do us part. I would consider this a technicality.”

“Oh don’t start that-” Husker protested as you grabbed the almost empty decanter, hurling it at the infuriating radio demon. His words fatigued like this wasn’t the first spat between lovers he had witnessed behind the bar. The glass smashed against the far wall as Alastor easily stepped out of the weapon’s range. His smug expression didn’t last long as he stumbled out of the way a sudden switch blade aimed for his gut. A single furry arm reaching out furiously swinging as another portal aimed for his knees. Draining your glass with a single long drink, you were quick to join the fray. The weapon of choice is a feathered quill, its sharp dripping crimson as Alastor fell into step with your challenge. A macabre dance of sorts as Alastor dipped into a mocking bow, ears tucking back to narrowly miss shining glint of metal.

“Fuck you. You broke those vows a LONG time AGO.”You snarled as you could feel anger begin to court something you hadn’t felt in years. Sentiment.  The cool burn of the fucking ring still on your finger, like a vice trapping the flesh of a forgotten life, but would ruin you to amputate. A string tying to a much happier time. At least one with glimpses of the emotion.

Alastor’s hand caught your wrist with ease as you snarled when he removed the silken glove from your left hand, revealing the accursed piece of brass. A cheap little thing, but it once meant the world to some stupid woman. Alastor’s eyes widened for the briefest second as if he hadn’t thought that his mocking words from earlier held any weight. Or was it because he hadn’t expected your free hand to strike him across the face.

“I didn’t ASK your PERMISSION. I DON’T FUCKING NEED IT. I NEVER DID.” Your voice was a low hiss now as your hand drifted to your throat. Black ink was slowly spreading across the crisp collar in a slow haze as splotches seeped through here and there on your dress. Ink oozed across the floor like a slow haze as Angel hastily scurried up onto the couch away from the ooze. The slippery forms of hands reached out from the ooze like a drowning man trying to breach the surface, their stained hands gripping your ankles. Alastor kicked at far more hostile hands, their passive grasp turning into sharp claws eager to sink into flesh.

“So. You made some new associates, kit. As did I”

“ALASTOR, ENOUGH.” Charlie’s voice broke through the haze of violence as you bit back your retort under Lucifer’s cool glare. The ink dissipated, but the trembling of your form didn’t. Control was something you always lacked when your temper sparked. It was your fatal flaw, it made you reckless. It scorched you from the inside out as your hands curled around yourself protectively, fighting the urge to gag as if each breath provoked another splattering of ink from the depths of your throat. 

“Breathe.” Lucifer muttered as he offered you a spare handkerchief. It was almost a shame to see the dark liquid greedily seep into the silk cloth like a drunk to drink. Angel was quick to pull up alongside you with a waste basket as you retched further ink into the bin.

“Had enough experience with the gutter to know the “oh fuck I am gonna hurl face”. Angel teased as you glared up at him. Managing only the faintest laugh as Angel winked cheekily at you.

“Well, that wasn’t the worst introduction to the hotel.” Charlie chimed weakly trying to lighten the mood as she stood in front of Alastor. Protecting you from him? Or was it the other way around. Or perhaps it was to spare the risk of another massive clean-up as an excited giggle lit up the room. A maid skittered about the room mop in hand as she invasively wiped a wet cloth over your face before darting off to the next puddle.

“Thank you, Niffty. We would be lost without you.” Lucifer mused as the maid gave a quick salute to the compliment. 

“I mean I did do the stabbing of the nasty big bug” Niffty said in a sing-song voice as you connected the words. This, this was the Sinner that managed to kill the first Man?

“Oh, now I can see why you were so out of sorts.” You sneered as there was that telltale twitch of Alastor’s left eye.

“Fuck you.”

“Oh never again darling.” 

“Well, now that this little reunion is settled. I do hope your files are in order. We have A LOT to cover.” Lucifer announced with a dramatic sigh. It was all false theatrics, you knew likely better than anyone of the renewed passion that had been lit in the King of Hell. The management of the realm itself, to remind the Sinners that he was in charge for a reason. With or without the rumors surrounding his prestige.

“Of course. Sir.” You answered flatly as you snapped your fingers once more. It was like watching a small parade of rabbits as the tiny creatures streamed into the hotel door. Needing little direction as Lucifer’s words began flowing like a river. Your pen dancing over the pages in furious shorthand. Allowing yourself to fall into the intoxicating haze of work into the long hours of the night.

“Now I think it’s time to call it a night. It was quite an eventful day for you.”

The words skittered over the page without a thought as your tired eyes read over them. It wasn’t diction, no, it was the start of a conversation. Lucifer observing you through steepled fingers as you put the finishing punctuation with a loud clack of the keys. Taking extra time to carefully remove the delicate paper from the roller, you wistfully blew over the damp ink. Ignoring the click of Lucifer’s tongue as he knew your procrastination tactics. He couldn’t exactly scold you for being considerate now could he.

“It won’t be a problem. It’s in the-” You began as Lucifer waved you over to the seat in front of his desk.  Now you were feeling like some school girl about to be lectured by the teacher as you slid into the seat with a guarded expression.

“I wouldn’t mind it being a problem. Smug prick could use another reminder of his standing. As powerful as he is, he is still a Sinner. Once human with an apparent speck of a heart that can be rattled it would seem. Especially if you know how to stab at the soft parts.” Lucifer mused with a raised brow.

“Are you asking me to kill Alastor, sir. I wouldn’t be against throttling him in his sleep tonight.” You deadpanned as your fingers twitched at the thought. 

“No. No. A bit of emotional torment is just dessert for me. Besides, I think Charlie would be a bit put out if it came to that. She was already so disappointed with the misunderstanding about a new Guest. Much less I had to talk her down from giving you a rousing speech after your little spat with him.”

You cringed at the imaginary conversation. You could all but see the wide-eyed princess flailing over the dramatics of love and how it’s worth fighting for. Possibly with an extra flair of confetti and trying to ply into a bit of romantic history. An impossible conversational trap that would make flaying feel preferable.

“I appreciate that, sir.” You muttered gratefully as Lucifer chuckled at your pained expression. However, you couldn’t help but feel like this was another trap when the devil’s expression turned from thoughtful to serious.

“I need you here. Charlie needs him here for some inane reason. Don’t push him too far, but don’t let him take advantage of you either. That’s a direct order. Now, off you go, we have plenty of nights to burn the midnight oil on.” Lucifer tutted before turning his chair, his own version of dismissal as you quietly left the study.

Your steps were aimless but seemed impossibly loud in the massive corridors of the hotel. Pale blue lighting drifting through the glass windows. As if it was a true moon outside instead of an endless haze of neon in the Pentagram below.  What would the fireflies look like here? Like some bastardized version of the one’s from Earth, perhaps emitting fire balls instead of a soft glow.  Fireflies dancing over the low tides of some forgotten lake as the early morning fog rolled in soon to be burned away by the rising sun.

“Oh, I know that look. Means it's time for a drink.” A hoarse voice broke you from your thoughts as you sheepishly ducked your head at the knowing words. It was almost embarrassing for Sinners to be caught lost in their memories from before, much to remember them in such vivid details. For many, regardless of age, their memories would come for them in their dreams. Sinners were meant to be punished, dreams ripping apart by the seams into their worst nightmares.  Or callous reminders of their sins amplified by tenfold to send them bolting upright in their beds.

“Afraid that won’t help me much tonight. Today was a bit..excessive” You admitted softly as Husk snorted at your shoddy attempt of downplaying the chaos of the day. The cat demon’s wings ruffled as the pregnant pause filled the space. You could only imagine the questions that were burning to be asked. Ones that you would loath to answer without a bit of sleep.

“So, how did-”

“How many broads do you take on midnight strolls, Whiskers. Hurting my feelings here. I am only a bit late..” 

Your luck may have been changing as Angel’s arrival easily caught Husk’s attention. Or more so, Angel demanded it as he stood behind the shorter demon with a knowing look. A moonlight stroll? You quickly covered your faint laugh with your hand as Husk’s gaze narrowed displeased. 

“A mere accident. Enjoy your night.” You mused as the pair exchanged a quick glance. It seemed they were just as eager to escape the conversation as you were.  The faintest notes of jazz punctured the silence as Husk rolled his eyes in annoyance.

“Course, he is still in a prickly mood..” Husk growled 

Alastor and jazz was like watching the aftermath of a storm. Sometimes it was gentle lull ushering away dark clouds and foul weather. Other times it was the preamble to things to come as the restless notes went on into the early hours of the morning. 

“Ah, he’ll get over it if someone puts him-” Angel teased with a wink as you could feel your face begin to burn like a coal over the open fire.

“Have a good night.” Your words cut over the suggestive tone, perhaps too abruptly as the pair's laughter echoed after your footsteps. As if running away from the mere implication wouldn’t let your mind dance over the words. Your nails dug into the skin of your palms as you could almost taste the burn of rye. The ghostly touch on the back of your neck as you ran your hand over your face. As if that would wipe away the memories starting to prickle in the back of your mind. 

“Fuck.” You hissed as you realized your distracted steps had led you even closer to the source of the sound. Like the luring lull of a siren as there was a quiet rumble of a trumpet that sent goosebumps over your skin. All that was missing was the sweet scent of tobacco and low rumble of conversation. You startled backward onto the floor as the door slammed open at the crescendo of the song.

“Well, this is a surprise, do come in.” Alastor muttered as you silently cursed any entity for putting you in this position. Your dress slid up to above your knees, revealing the torn and ripped stockings beneath it as you hastily smoothed it back down. Alastor’s head tilting as he follows your hands up to your murderous expression before smiling that smug infuriating smile. 

“A leopard can’t change its spots. An intriguing idea isn’t it?” Alastor mused as he lazily waved to the free chair next to the fireplace. The nostalgic force barreled through your skull as your nails sank into the soft fabric of the arm rest. Everything about the room did. The pale tone of greens of the wallpaper, its edges fraying with its deceiving quality. The gentle crackle of the fire tinted by the low notes of jazz. Even the curious restless tap of Alastor’s fingers as he waited to hear your retort. 

“It can if the spots are painted on by another..” You huffed as you forced yourself to not fidget under his keen gaze. Like he was wanting to peel you open like a bit of wrapping paper over a shoddy gift. 

“But what sort of paints would the King of Hell use?” 

“Ones that I bought. I refuse to compromise on that.” 

“Well, even paint begins to fade. Funny how that happens.”

“Perhaps I should use ink instead. That continues to stain.”

The words were barbed and pointed as neither side was willing to back down. Did he really think you all but threw yourself at Lucifer’s feet without a second thought? Clinging to the nearest chance to pull yourself out from torment and torture. For the minute of peace in exchange for blistered fingers and reddened palms. 

“I am surprised you can’t see the stain on your hands. Seems like it was all over earlier.” Alastor quipped as you looked down at your hands. Still covered by the linen gloves as if that could conceal the blood on them. The dark sticky residue that once shown crimson, now tainted every single stroke of your pen.

“There are far worse reminders of our mistakes.” You nudged one side of your face, forcing it into a half smile as Alastor blinked once, but said nothing. You weren’t that blind to the fact that he was holding his cards close to the chest. Not willing to let the smallest risk of letting himself slip like he did before in the ruins of the radio station.

“Now let’s not dwell on the past.” Alastor proposed as you snorted at the clear diversion. There was a quick rattle of tea cups and the gentle floral notes of chamomile tea waiting to be poured within a blink of the eye. The hot liquid tasted slightly metallic on your tongue as you queried a brow but said nothing.  The faint chime of the cup hitting the saucer was all too loud in the room.

“You seem..better.” Hesitation in your voice as if cautiously approaching an injured animal. A single slow blink of Alastor’s eyes was a silent warning. Yet you couldn’t help but brooch the topic. 

“I am right as rain, my dear. Why wouldn’t I be?” Alastor hummed as you clicked your tongue in disapproval. Lying, he was lying to you. As if you weren’t the one that stumbled upon his little fit days prior. The obvious injuries inflicted on him by otherworldly forces, the faint twitch in his left arm when your gaze settled on it.

Now it was like falling back into familiar motions as your feet moved on their own accord to kneel next down to his chair. Your fingers diligently undoing the cuffed sleeve with a single snap of a button. Sharp nails curled under your chin forcing your focus from the fabric to Alastor. Less than impressed as you could feel your heartbeat thud a little bit faster from the malevolence of his ridgid form.

“Don’t act like a child.” You snipped as Alastor’s glare could have burnt into your soul. Well, if it still existed as you defiantly rolled up the fabric with a small hiss under your breath. Tendon and viscera was feebly trying to keep itself together by Alastor’s will. If infection ever existed in Hell, it would have to look like this at least it didn’t smell like rot.

“Pleased with yourself?” Alastor snapped coldly before pulling his arm away with a defiant snap of the button cuff. It was a mere glance but he was acting like you had proposed the idea of amputating the limb entirely. Now it was becoming nostalgic as a slow smirk spread across your lips as you leaned down closer to him. Your hands splayed comfortably over the top of the chair. There was a twitch in Alastor’s smile as you could all but see the same memories begin to play out.

“Still stubborn?”

“Always.” Alastor teased as his fingers sprawled over the length of your throat. Feeling your pulse underneath it. He was cheating in this little game of wills as a low hiss curled in your throat as his smile widened daring you to make the next move.

Any and all tension fled the room like a dog with its tail between its legs as the room’s door slammed open. A wide eyed and jittery Lucifer all but barged in without a single hint of volume regulation. A weary looking paperboy skittered after him with a blocky paper in its hand bearing the single word.

‘Sorry.’

“Cancel all my appointments tomorrow and fetch the coffee. I need to-”

Lucifer’s eyes went as a smirk slid over his snake-like features. His expression the picture of innocence as if he didn’t barge into the intimate moment. Hands tucked into his suit pockets as he slammed the final nail in the coffin for any chance of redemption. 

“Am I interrupting something?” Smug, amused notes that made you want to crawl into a hole and be buried alive.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Your answer came first in a rushed hiss as you quickly stood up to grab the troublesome rabbit by its ears as it frantically scribbled on its scrap of paper to explain the situation. That it had attempted to lead away your boss, but he just got this odd look when he heard the jazz. Please watch the ears. The excuses made your grip all the tighter as the little creature squealed in protest as it was thrown out into the hallway. 

While Alastor’s ‘No’ was far less pleased as the Devil was taking insurmountable delight in the situation. He smoothed out the rumpled edge of the sleeve with little ceremony as Lucifer seemed almost impatient for his next words. It was difficult to cover your laughter as the words never came, only the clatter of china and a loud sip of tea. 

“Now, before I fetch that coffee. What is the issue?” You huffed as you snapped your fingers together allowing your quill the float aimlessly around you. Lucifer spun on his heel before grabbing you by the wrist with a bright smile

“I want to redecorate my office. It’s looking a bit..drab. That means measuring, shopping and all the other joys of furnishing. Now let’s hop to it. We only have a few hours till morning, moonlight is wasting away as we speak. Since I wasn’t interrupting anything..” Lucifer declared as he wrapped his arm around your waist, all but ushering you from the room without a single second to spare.

You made sure to burn the coffee and watched with immense pleasure in seeing him choke it down.

[bonesandthebees]

I just rounded off my period so a massive L to all of you I suppose /lhj

I'm in so much pain about the Wilbur situation in general and have so many mixed feelings. Like I've only just got a chance to sit down and read his 'apology' and all of the replies from content creators and (ex)fans alike. I was so close to throwing up that I had to close the tab /gen.

I've never really watched Shubble content, nor have I had a chance to watch her full vod on the issue, so my first instinct was to be a good little media sieve and try to be open-minded before making an opinion. I won't lie, I was trying very hard to convince myself that it wasn't Wilbur and everyone was jumping to conclusions (though the more I read made that less and less likely).

I was worried for Wilbur's group (tommy, phil, charlie etc) because there was no way they could stream without being harassed by it, and worried partially for Wilbur as well because of various mental health problems that he's admitted to in the past.

Now that he's responded, though, everything's so much worse. As someone who struggled with being on the victim side of abuse for a while, I feel awful for Shelby and everything that happened to her.

Charlie, Ranboo, Tubbo etc have all responded (most very passionately so I have no doubt where they stand), so that's good for them, but tommy and phil have yet to. I can't help but wonder if Techno knew, if it had even started by then or if Wilbur didn't tell him.

I've seen people making reasonable assumptions about signs in past content that may have pointed to Wilbur's abuse, but there are some people making reaches that don't even make sense and now I can barely consume content or even remember videos that i used to be fond of without worrying that it was just Wilbur manipulating people.

Also, as far as I'm aware, none of lovejoy have replied to the situation (apart from the ex trumpeter), so ash, mark and joe are getting hate when they haven't done anything (though I may have just not seen it yet).

Some part of my brain is convinced this is all some horrible nightmare and I'll wake up able to laugh and joke about SBI content with my friends, even if I know that'll likely never happen again.

If there's one thing for certain, it's that his response was not an apology. I do believe that he thought long and hard about it (even if it was just for superficial PR reasons) and maybe ran it by people he trusted, but it was not what he should have said in response to Shelby coming forward about his abuse. All he's done is dig a bigger hole and now thousands of his (ex)supporters have to live with the consequences of his actions.

Honestly, I just feel sad. Sad that it happened, sad that Wilbur isn't who I thought he was and sad that my life will be drastically different from here on out.

Sorry that that was so heavy. I just feel really confused and there's a pit in my stomach that's churning horribly.

-🌺 <3

oh of course SOMEONE just had to finish their period right when the rest of us get it smh /lh

yeah, this is such a horrible situation overall. for me at least his response made the situation somewhat more tolerable because it felt like a closure moment. it made me realize, oh, he was really awful the entire time and this shit apology proves it. however, I'm sure in a few days the reality will hit me and I'll feel awful again. it's not fun realizing someone you admired and were a fan of for so long was a completely different kind of person than the guy he presented himself as.

I don't know where you heard that charlie responded, because as far as I'm aware he has not said anything anywhere about this situation yet.

I also don't think it's very worthwhile for people to be combing through old vods and videos for 'questionable moments' they can point at and be like "look he was abusive the whole time!" because we don't know what's going on in cc's personal lives. more than anything that should be the take away here. we don't know these people, we don't know their personal relationships, we shouldn't be trying to pinpoint every questionable moment and prove something with it because we're not in these personal relationships with wilbur. the other cc's are. basically, don't overthink what you see in old vods or old videos. it's not going to help whatsoever and it's none of our business.

I've also had the thought that this feels like a nightmare I could wake up from. I've had that thought every day since shelby's stream first happened. but unfortunately that's not the case, and we need to focus instead on supporting the victims here

I'm sorry there's not much I can say to help. just try to take care of yourself. give yourself time. it'll get a bit easier with each passing day.

[ardentpoop]

“from their perspective” is the key phrase here and their perspective is wrong. lmao. the show just as often has other characters - powerful outsiders with no emotional investment in these two freaks, like Death and Billie and s6 Crowley and Zachariah and even Chuck in a sense - say something to the effect of “your relationship is a rotted-through mess and it keeps getting people killed.”

very odd to suggest they’re “better at paying attention to others” when they’re together considering dean especially often sacrifices other people (e.g. benny) or attempts to sacrifice other people (e.g. jack) to maintain the Natural Order of sam and dean staying together. I’m loath to bring this one up bc I despise the narrative framing of it but charlie died as a consequence of sam desperately searching for a way to lift the mark of cain off dean to, again, maintain the natural order of Them - in this case by not letting dean go rabid and kill sam along w/ everyone else lmfao which is just a wee bit different from dean’s usual sam-care tasks. kevin died as a consequence of dean tricking sam into housing gadreel to “save his life” (their life, the natural order) and choosing not to warn kevin or cas or anyone else that he had done this. the show tells you straight-up through characters like crowley that everyone who gets involved with these two as a unit (because they are always a unit) ends up dead or traumatized or both.

btw you shouldn’t take any of the show’s ideas abt “monstrosity” at face value. sam is only a “monster” when dean views him as one because he is scaring him by upsetting their natural order. dean’s “monstrosity” is never his own - only ever entwined with sam’s. this is of course because sam has it “in his blood” whereas dean does not. it is a threat to sam and their natural order that dean cannot shoot dead, which is why it’s so terrifying to him when sam embraces it in s4.

dean considers himself whole when he’s with sam bc his identity was formed around sam. the latter is true for sam as well however as the person permanently in the passenger seat, the person permanently left behind and waiting, the person permanently taking cues bc he’s not trusted to lead - sam does not feel the same Wholeness that dean feels. their natural order relies on sam being denied autonomy, which is why sam starts out fighting it before convincing himself (with terrible conclusion after terrible conclusion drawn abt his own Right to autonomy) that there is no better life waiting for him.

tbh I could go on and on abt this but last thing I’ll say is that “better hunters” and “better people” are opposing statements :)

[manysmallhands]

Top 10 Albums of 2023!

This was all supposed to work out differently. As i recall from the now long distant past, my original plan was to do a countdown where i put up one post a day throughout December. However, I got Covid on December 1st and that plan immediately became lame and useless. After that, my assumption was basically that i wouldn't be able to do any of this, but i got better more quickly than i'd anticipated and found myself working on these reviews in bits as the month has gone on. So, having rushed through all the the song blurbs that i wanted to do, here i am on New Year's Eve with a more or less finished Top 10 albums to put up.

The only problem is that there are ten quite lengthy reviews here and the vibe is already pretty tl:dr. But tbh that's fine: there really is only my girlfriend who ever reads everything (and i believe her, trust is what love is all about after all) so for anyone looking at this and thinking blimey, that's a lot of text, my advice is: you don't have to read any of it. Just look at the albums, scan thru to see if it sounds like something you might like and give one or two of them a listen if that looks like the case. The words are really just to keep me occupied but i'd like to hope that someone likes some of the records.

I said yesterday that i would reveal what the best one is and so I am now delivering on that important promise. The best one is Scarlet by Doja Cat. Anyone who follows me on whatever platform already knows that the best one is Scarlet by Doja Cat. Don't make me say it again.

Barbie - The Album

Few people have seemed much interested in the Barbie soundtrack, other than the punters who kept it atop the compilations chart for four months. I, as ever, channel the spirit of the populous. The sound is basically 80s synth pop updated for a modern audience  - the likes of Haim and Ava Max slot in predictably well - but its the extra dimensions created by how the artists interact with the film that provide some of its more interesting aspects. Sam Smith’s Man I Am reflects a surprisingly LGBTQ Ken despite protestations (certainly its "I'm not gay bro, but..." T-shirt is prompting a lot of questions already answered by the shirt), while Billie Eilish dwelling on life as a manufactured product makes for interesting and uncomfortable parallels in What Was I Made For. Mark Ronson’s plasticky production suits its subject to a tee, further cementing the conceptual unity of the project.

Star turns abound throughout the album as A-listers like Dua Lipa and Lizzo bring their best games alongside some terrific and unlikely downcard cameos. What Was I Made For? and Dance The Night were both deserved #1s, but the pacey pop punk of GAYLE’s Butterflies and Dominic Fike’s breezy, hook laden Hey Blondie are as much highlights as any of the bigger names here. Special mention should be made for Ryan Gosling’s I’m Just Ken, a blockbuster 70s rock number that, whilst puncturing the wider stylistic template, is batshit and hilarious enough to more than justify its place as well as netting him a surprise hit too. The quality lapses once or twice (Tame Impala in particular are bloody awful) but by the time Ava fires the final laser I’m generally happy to go back and start all over again. With banger after banger here, my verdict is in: the Barbie soundtrack is *Charli voice* HOT!

Claire Rosinkranz - Just Because

While this has been a year that I’ve gotten more fully into pop, it took a while for me to find many new albums that I’ve been interested in. This may partly be to do with me clinging to an idea that LPs ought to be substantial beyond having good hooks and charm. In truth, all I needed to do was revert to my indiepop training, where bands have never knowingly been fussed about having any great weightiness. But even so, it took Just Because to make it clear to me that no, you really don’t need any grand vision at all: a high number of great if frothy pop songs will do just fine. It’s a record which bounces from banger to banger in an endearingly sunny style, with each tune so catchy that their lightness becomes a strength rather than a weakness.

Rosinkranz’s voice seems to mark her out as one of the many Billie clones who populate the current pop scene but her musical ambitions are both simpler and more instantly engaging. Not yet 20, her songs have an element of schoolyard whispers which add a welcome silliness here and there, but she also plays with the intensity of youthful emotions to make them a little heartrending even as she goofs off. Highlights include Dreamer, a break up song where the vocal makes it clear that she’s far from as done as she says she is, and Wes Anderson, which offers some sombre advice but packages it in a song so sweet that you’d never know. But in spite of all this it makes no end of year lists (well, maybe just the one), being merely a lovable set of songs that are very hard to forget. Need it be more? I don't believe so.

Doja Cat - Scarlet

Mired in discourse throughout the year, Doja Cat still found time to make a chart topping single (Paint The Town Red) that took the world by storm and a cracking album which, sadly, did not. Scarlet was in my opinion the better of the two: largely ditching the afrobeat pop of Planet Her, Doja staked her claim as an old skool rapper and brought it off pretty well, mixing hard rhyming with her more scattershot pop delivery and sounding entirely comfortable wherever she landed. While flitting musically between modern RnB and neo-soul grooves, her subject matter was largely taken up by how much she hated her fans, a bold strategy that found her shedding support even as blistering tracks like Fuck The Girls shaped up as some of my favourites of the year.

Whilst I’ve found myself uncomfortable with both the company that she keeps and the views which she may or may not subscribe to (i feel safe in saying that she's a right wing edgelord but i suspect that’s the least of it), Scarlet is such a good album that I’ve found myself, if not making excuses for her, then at least deftly navigating around my distaste in order to keep listening to it. While Agora Hills often reminded me how serious she is about her scumbag of a boyfriend, it’s still a song that can submerge me in its beauty entirely; while some of the complaints from her online audience are less easily dismissed than others, it’s more comfortable just to think about the morons calling her a devil worshiper, especially when she mocks them so wickedly on the elegant Skull And Bones. Am I the problem? Maybe I am: it’s a place I often find myself in with hip hop, where faves are frequently problematic and exceptions beg to be made. As such, I can not wholeheartedly recommend this record to people who might want to take a principled stand against some of her bullshit. I can only say that, as a musical talent, there was no one better all year.

Lana Del Rey - Did You Know That There’s a Tunnel Under Ocean Boulevard?

After 2021’s fairly middling brace of albums, Did You Know That There’s A Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd always felt like it was going to be a return to form and this time the faithful were not disappointed. It was another epic and sprawling record which unfolded like a cross between The Bible and a 50s musical. While changeable in style, ranging from hammy country ballads to trap beats and beyond, the thing that springs to mind most often is the Great American Songbook, as Lana takes the melodramatic grandeur of those standards and soaks them in her own messy and complicated worldview. This draws in family, romance, the future, her relationship with religion and how it all scrappily fits together, ranging widely and wildly across 75 extraordinary minutes.

Much of the album feels like it’s being broadcast from a kind of dreamworld, although one that overlays with reality neatly enough. Lana’s dismissive “if you want some basic bitch go to the Beverly Centre and find her” line undercuts the mood on the otherwise lush and evocative Sweet but the impact is hilarious rather than jarring, a perfect marriage of the strange and mundane. In contrast, the brooding A&W initially brings that realism to a far more uncomfortable level, before goofing off wonderfully in the second half in a way that only Lana ever really dares to do. Much of the record feels like it's creating its own language, as key phrases (“let the light in”, “when you know, you know”) are repeated and musical themes come back around in strange modulations. All in all, while perhaps less satisfying as a pop record than Norman Fucking Rockwell, Did You Know… feels like her most complete statement on a personal level yet, whilst still working well within the broader world that she’s spent over a decade constructing.

Mitski - The Land Is Inhospitable And So Are We

Despite liking the odd song or two, I have until now been largely immune to Mitski over the full length of an album. But The Land Is Inhospitable And So Are We has a much more organic sound than I’m used to hearing from her, well adrift from the polished guitar rock of her big 10s records. Instead, it takes many of its cues from classic folk and country, occasionally lush and expansive, often determinedly sombre but always at a distance from the areas where she’s generally been at home. Opener Bug Like An Angel is a brooding scene setter, where Mitski unveils the terse and grumpy presence we will grow familiar with over the next half hour. The main elements of the album are already in place - the spare instrumentation; Mitski’s extraordinary voice, hard and intransigent but still full of yearning; the occasional, overwhelming interjections from the wings. It all creates a distinctive atmosphere, extremely intense but intimate too: we’re allowed into Mitski’s world but there’s a lot to take in.

Lyrically, the songs are both heavily allusive and extremely personal, like hearing ancient parables told by the characters from the story. Surprise hit My Love Mine All Mine seems to sit apart as a relatively standard love song but a closer listen reveals deeper layers; the placing of her love as something independent from its object makes it feel more of a piece with the album’s other enigmas. At a time where Mitski seemed to be cooling on being a rock star, The Land Is Inhospitable adds a new twist to her long musical journey, seemingly presenting a more intimate portrait while in fact retaining most of her essential mystery. As an album, it really is quite something: what that is I’m less certain of but I like it regardless.

Olivia Rodrigo - Guts

Tho I wouldn't have called myself a hater (I don’t think I would have been bothered enough), I don't really like Olivia’s all conquering debut Sour, which I thought a bit too one-note and overpopulated with slushy ballads. But by the time Guts came around I was open to listening again, drawn in by its excellent singles and primed for a different experience. Vampire, the best of them and more or less of this year, was a fantastic example of taking something that Olivia is clearly very accomplished at (the grand piano lament) and then, rather than running that into the ground, instead using it as a springboard for an entirely different idea. Get Him Back and Bad Idea Right hark back to earlier guitar based tracks like Brutal, but on Guts they form a much more substantive part of the album, cementing its brand of addictive pop grunge and working up a much goofier version of her messy teen persona.

Elsewhere, the ballads did in fact return. Some have speculated that this may have been a bad idea (right?) but for me they’ve been growers, particularly the likes of Lacy and The Grudge, where Olivia explores the bitterness of youth and uses it to tear holes in the people who’ve wronged her. But if I’m honest, it’s the rockers that I’m usually waiting for: whether the new wave pastiche of Love Is Embarrassing or autumnal Cure homage Pretty Isn’t Pretty, each one feels like a mini-revelation and it’s the style that I hope she leans on most in the future.

Palehound - Eye On The Bat 

Palehound have been around for a while now and every so often I’ve given their records a try and haven't really managed to connect with them properly. Eye on the Bat has been the first exception, though whether that's because it’s any better than the others or I just made more of an effort with it I don’t know. Its template is certainly well worn in the indie world - country rock with varying degrees of aggression or melodic sweetness - but there’s still a lot here that grabs my attention, especially in the charming indie pop of the title track and the heart-rending melancholy of Route 22.

But the thing that caught my ear the most was Ellen Kempner’s disarming honesty, with much of the album spent documenting what sounds like a deeply messy break up. Whether she’s bitterly picking through the fall out on Independence Day or remembering some hilariously embarrassing bedroom scene on opener Good Sex, Eye On The Bat's almost diaristic view is mesmerising throughout, making you warm to Kempner even as she works thru some of her own worst traits. And aside from anything else, her understanding of relationships underlines her strengths as a lyricist, as she dissects their complexities with wit, sympathy and occasional anger to capture all the stuff that transcends whatever we were hoping for in the first place.

Poppy - Zig

After the wild ride that commenced with 2020’s extraordinary pop/metal mash up I Disagree, Poppy has journeyed thru indie rock, goth and punk to wind up back where she started, only not quite. Zig may represent a return to pop - indeed it’s produced by Weeknd affiliate Ali Payami - but it’s one that’s filtered thru all of the places she stopped off along the way.

The crepuscular grind of Church Outfit and Knockoff sound like more danceable versions of the I Disagree sound, while the crunching title track suggests that she can still go as hard as ever. But there are nods to a lighter side here as well, particularly in the strong trio that wind up the album: The Attic recasts her sound in a euphoric drum n bass clatter whilst closer Prove It kicks up a remarkable blend of manic hyperpop and gentle electro-balladry, whilst still working in the rich emotional palette that she’s developed in recent years.

In one sense this is a huge departure from the frenetic punk of last year’s Stagger EP but the vibes here stake out territory that you’d still find oddly familiar. Some of the gothy ballads are less immediate than other songs but nothing on Zig is boring, just varying refinements on her ever evolving musical journey. The critics were split, occasionally rattled and sometimes just plain baffled, but that’s only to be expected by now. Poppy follows her own plan and rarely sticks to the same tune: in truth it’s a privilege just to be a witness to the chaos.

Sweeping Promises - Good Living Is Coming For You

One thing that I find missing in a lot of modern guitar based music is snappy songs with good catchy hooks. While Sweeping Promises appear to place their focus elsewhere - their high concept sound is best understood as someone broadcasting direct from 1979 through a wristwatch speaker - their second album still finds time to deliver fully on the tunes. Good Living Is Coming To You is steeped in bubblegum melodies and memorable choruses, with songs that become earworms before you’ve even registered how catchy they are. 

More than anything, it's dominated by Lira Mondal’s imperious vocals: whether it’s in the cascading harmonies of Throw Of The Dice, the fierce yells and hisses that close out the title track or her sweet voiced switch-outs on Ideal No, her character springs out of every song in a way that few singers ever really manage to impose. While you might think that the post punk era has been mined to death by now, Sweeping Promises drag new life into it by going back further: their sound may be heavily rooted in a specific moment but the elements of songcraft often have more in common with 60s girl group classics than gnarled art rockers. Ten bangers and no filler: Good Living Is Coming For You is everything I wanted from it and more.

Wednesday - Rat Saw God

While the queasy vibes of 2021’s Twin Plagues are still high in the mix here, it was the welcome injection of melody on Wednesday's third album that managed to alert the media. That lightness was more apparent in Karly Hartzman's lyrics than you might notice on a passing listen too: though often praised for her grimly amusing takes on middle American backwaters, the key to them was her deceptively soft touch, casting a sympathetic eye over grisly scenes even as she retained their gnarlier undertones.

Single Chosen To Deserve, with its crunching chorus and heartwarming romantic turnaround, feels like the designated big moment from the record but in reality Rat Saw God has an embarrassment of riches. Quarry in particular, with its Waterloo Sunset-esque signature and matter-of-fact dissection of grim local gossip, is an almost pop version of the most haunting aspects of Hartzman's craft, while the washed out bounce of closer TV in the Gas Pump pitches a lonelier scene in a similarly gorgeous manner.

This is not to forget that Wedneday can still rock extremely hard when they want to, especially on the brutal 8 minute Bull Believer, an ambitious multipart epic that ends with Hartzman screaming “FINISH HIM!!!” repeatedly over the chaotic finale. But while Rat Saw God brought this kind of sawtoothed sound back to widespread acclaim, its real trick was how it sugared the pill just enough to get it past even the most determinedly sweet tooth.

[aggressivenesswhilecrying]

Does it truly matter?

Summery:

The world has ended. No real surprise about that, huh? Zombies and everything horrible taking over, and Charlie thinks he might honestly be one of the only people out here anymore.

One night while trying to get sleep possible. He finds his vision blossoming in white, and his head pounding.

TWS THERE IS A BLOODY SCENE AT THE END, GODS, THERES A GOOD BIT OF RELIGIOUSNESS INVOLED.

Not beta reader edited!!

(@qsmpbur hiiii!! Sorry it took a hot second, and kind of sucked a little, button, I'm your pinch hitter, and this is your fic!! It was scu, bit. Idk, it's kinda not anymore, it went weird. But I hope you enjoy it!!)

(@mcytblrholidayexchange)

Charlie will never say he's a religious man, by no means is he a man of worship. 

When he awoke, and the end of the world was upon him, he never prayed. He never found the point. No, as the sun set beyond the horizon, and all he can see is bloodied, mangled bodies, of humans and zombies alike, from his home on the roof top. He can't say he's particularly religious.

In those moments he clutches the cross around his neck. He holds it, feels his blood pound. And then he retreats to bed. Not a prayer on his lips.

Tossing and turning. All night. His eyes are so so heavy. Staying shut despite his best wishes, and yet he can't fall asleep. His limps feel like their dragging him into the mattress. And yet his pillow hurts him neck, and no matter how he lays, his back aches. 

He hurts.

The pounding of his head mixed with the general aching leaving his groaning as he sit up.

“God damn it….” just hearing his tired voice makes his nose wrinkle, as it would take an idiot to not hear the pain laced with every noise.

His feet hit the hard wood under his feet. Cold but more then welcome. His far too tired eyes open, feeling like they're dragging against his very eyes. He leaves his glasses on the nightstand as he lets himself stare at the wall in front of him. It's so empty in the room it almost hurts. So quite and dark. 

He couldn't tell you what time it is, clock's had stopped working and being trust worthy, long, long ago. And wll, charlie doesn't remember his life before this, and therefore, doesn't believe he knows just, exactly how to tell the time without a clock. 

The dark hurts his eyes to stare at, feeling the shapes change beneath his eye, and his head spin. The old falling off the wall poster becoming something from his nightmares. And suddenly.

There's light. Almost blinding. His arms coming up to sheikd his face as the world spins. He couldn't tell you how long it had been, or just how sudden the light had game. His mind reeling back.

“Hellooooo…?” A voice he can almost recognize calls out, voice teasing, and like honey in his ears. Sweet and syrupy, clogging all his thoughts.

Slowly hands move away from his face. The blinding white compared to the dark sad room he was in before leaves his head pounding, and he almost can't tell the difference between the air around him, and the figure infant of him.

Wavy brown hair curling and falling over one of its pure white eyes. White eyelashes giving an impossibly, almost holy look.

A ring of wings surround the back of its head, all with normal looking eyes That look directly at him. 

Long white, silky fabrics barely held on, yet draped in a way to conceal everything. And Charlie could see the hints of ache bumps on both its shoulders and its face. Stretch marks curving up and wrapping around its stomach.

Oh. And it was giant. At least a million times bigger then him. A large finger, at least double his height came, just barely tapping him and he swore he lost his breath no matter how small of a tap it was. He couldn't very distantly tell he was staring at it. But to be frank? He didn't care much.

“holllllyyyyyy fuckkkkk…” he lets his voice drag out, breathy and awestruck. The being in front of him just had a growing smile.

Wilbur. His name was Wilbur. The being of too bright lights, wings and eyes, called itself Wilbur.

“Did…don't tell me you picked it out..?” He said, voice edging on a laugh, he honestly can't be sure he's processed any of this. From dark room, to blinding white light, to sitting, and just…talking with a semi person, just…getting to know it.

“What's wrong with Wilbur? I thought it sounded rather dashing!!” It's weird British voice laughed out, almost teasing tone as it's face wrinkled at Charlie. Nose scrunched up, and laugh on the tips of its voice. Mouth quirkedup at one end as Charlie couldn't help himself from laughing, shaking his head.

“Nothing nothing, just sounds a bit like the name of, of an asshole, yknow? You have the name of a man that would cry if his beer was bitter..!!” He chuckled, tilting his head at the God, before watching it recoil, too thin and feminine hand coming to its chest, other on its hip as it leans back, gasp on his voice, wings around its head flaring out. As it acting rather offended. And he could feel his heart race, pounding in his chest, begging to get out.

“I much prefer wine, thank you very much!!” the far far too tall being squawked out. Voice jokingly offended. White eyes glaring deep at Charlie, a pout on his lip, and wings flared back.

There's a deep sense in Charlie's guy, maybe, just maybe a God Like being being a little upset at him is, very possibly, a very very bad thing but at some point, he doesn't find he cares, letting himself laugh, loud and hard, hurting his chest in all the rights ways. Making his face strain, and cheeks hurt, with the most hes smiled in far too long.

And the room is silent, silent outside of his laughing, the God kneeling were his face is in front of Charlie, a soft, over confident grin spanning his cheeks, the glowing of his eyes, not changing the lighting in the painful white area. All the eyes on Charlie and to be fully, and truly honest? He doesn't find he minds the attention.

After this, after the soft moments, charlie finds himself there every night. Every single night,long after his eyes have closed. He finds Wilbur in every little thing. A dove of the roof, a too white wall. And in the lilies he finds growing far too quickly in every area he's in.

It's easy to see Wilbur in day to day life, his only consistent company in the hell hole of the now world. 

As the bullet kicks off, charlie watches through the scope as the zombie is sent hobbling back, a hole in the green for head gushing out, dripping down its nose, and slowly into its own mouth, charlie can almost hear Wilbur whisper of headshot!!

[satanicsanity]

I have an OC impression request if you don't mind!

Some info about her: Her name is Charlie Catastrophe. She lives in a circus tent on the outskirts of Home/the neighborhood. Her and her family run it, but she's the only one who trusts the people of the neighborhood. And she might look egotistical, but she's a real sweetheart!

Of course I can do this for ya, darling! This one marks the last Voice acting request for yalls characters I'm going to do for a bit!! <3 haha! Thank you guys so much for all the requests!

Subtitles: Well well well, lovelies! Welcome to my show! Really it is such a joy having you here! Though I can't say I'm surprised, who wouldn't want to see the amazing Charlie? Welcome to the show!

[osatokun]

What's the story behind the little bat pin/symbol that seem to be worn on a lot of Charlie's tops?

Charlie doesn't really have much ornaments, but he had these silver pins, a couple of bats. And, in the beginning of their relationships (they had such a quick start..) he gave one of them to Gilnda, singing a line from Danny Boy - But come ye back when summer's in the meadow, Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow, It's I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow, Oh, Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so It wasn't intended, but he filled Glinda's pin with his obtenebration shadow. Glinda smiled at him and filled his pin with her own power, so her pin is now black and his is green. It's this exact scene

For Charlie obtenebration isn't something he ever wanted to have. A few months before this scene, he fought a Dragon, Glinda's husband. He almost lost, but he didn't want Glinda, Monica or Veronica to die, so he let a demon in. Demon escaped. but left obtebebration, a mark of the , the curse that follows Charlie from now on. Glinda's power, however, comes from a curse too. When she was a young queen she almost started an apocalypse in desire to save Changelings from extinction. She was talked into giving birth to a spirit-changeling creature. She was stopped and prisoned (in a golden cage), her changeling self fell asleep. But the spirit escaped to the deep Umbra. Now her power comes form a curse that connects her and her "child". And spirit wishes only for destruction and pain, so if her power goes out of control .. well, I'll finish a picture about it soon. So yeah, by that time they proved how much they trust each other. He revelated his real name to her, they started to live together, fight together, he woke her changeling self, he fought her ex husband on the changeling court and she told him (and him only) the whole story of his past. So the bats now are the symbol of trust and their strong bound. I carry your curse, you carry mine and we go forward together whatever future hold. I'm glad you noticed the bats! they are really important!

[richardsphere]

Leverage Redemption Log: The Bucket Job

Title makes me think "bucket list"? either that or Keeping Up Appearances? (had to google "that show with the bucket woman" to remember the name) --- bells are playing and there is a giant semi-hollow pipe-structure of a snowman outside the building we're in. Its Christmas Special Time.

Librarian is giving the children some classic reading recomendations based on his knowledge of their likes (the girl likes pirates, which is a nice little gender-stereotype breaking to sneak in there without drawing attention to the subversion. Love it when shows feel confident doing that without the need to detract by boasting about it.) Young Man used to get Sherlock Holmes.

And the librarian is having a heart-attack... --- Harry is calling his daughter. His daughter doesnt want to spend the holiday with him because Mom is going on vacation to some resort (I think Aspen is a resort town in the states?) Ok either he has a son as well as a daughter, i am misremembering him as having a daughter, The daughter might be trans, or Nick is short for Nikita/vero-Nic-a, or Nick is more gender-neutral as a name then i thought (wouldnt be the first time, i went years thinking Sam was exclusively a female name because the only "sam" i ever heard of was from Totaly Spies). I am not sure which is the case. (im gonna place money on its a shortened-nickname though) Ok Sophie confirms its a daughter.

Elliot has been cooking, Parker is taking the long-distance part of Long Distance Relationship a bit hard around the holidays.

Knock on the door: its Doyledude. He's asking for Elliot by full name (sus). --- Doyledude's gay and his dads a preacher who didn't aprove of "woke" books like Charlie and the chocolate factory. (Yes Christians are that bad. Source: My dad got a chainletter that refered to the antichrist as an "avatar" of satan once and "The last airbender" and the blue smurfs were both insta-banned from the household forever).

--- "I am totally fine with revenge it allows us a range of outcomes the mark deserves". good line.

"Guess theres a lot of maurice's out there" KNEW IT, the moment they named him "blanche" i suspected we were gonna be getting a Maurice Leblanc reference. (of course they'd go for Arsene Lupin in an episode about the importance of libraries)

Harry's "so do I" is a simple joke but it lands well. 8/10.

I think we found todays villain: Its the guy harassing a homeless man for using the library. (fuck that guy) Ok ominous cut of someone taking pictures of Elliot. --- Sophie is walking around the theatre loading 100 checkov's guns at once (confetti cannon, Parker is booking a helicopter, red sportscar, Harry has a cane)

Sophie does a speech about the team needing to remember that this is a good person.

Elliot has gotten some of his old budies to work stuntmen. Parker is asking the very crucial heart-attack related question. Our safeword is Winnebago (google says its a campervan? Honestly, if it werent for the whole "automobiles are deathmachines I dont trust myself with" angle, i'd like one.) --- Librarian dude takes one look at the red sportscar and just thinks "dafuq kinda spy are you?" before stealing a regular car like a sensible person on the run from crooks would.

So, clearly the guy is either a someone bad upbringing who brought himself around, or an actual retired spy himself, who reads those books primarily out of nostalgia.

Ok its misspent youth, also the way he casually tosses the phone out the window. Love this guy. --- Im gonna be honest, while i apreciate the consistency of parker still being the Christmas Monster, the way her characterisation has mellowed out to using store-brand santamugs after she was first introduce as off-the-wall enough to use priceless jewelry as garlands is weird to me.

Breanna carelessly dismisses an attack on their own firewalls and servers. Harry's moustache is bad but the eyepatch is worse. --- Four stars? Comeon man. (good improv)

Actual Goons are here! "take spencer" knew it! no way that Doyledude would know Spencers full name. Mr Blanche has stolen a sportsbike. --- Turns out yeah, he was a former spy. Its RIZ bitch (did we get a name? I dont remember) she's looking for "the ledger" (presumeably a list of secret identities. We're looking for a book kept by a librarian. Its in the library. Probably that book samurai book he's been reading regularly) Ok so this is definitly becoming a recurring thing with the way she first used Elliot to find which guys to hire and is now talking about making him an instructor. Is she the secret person he's been phone-ing that breanna was asking about this whole episode? (i thought it was the Supercop from Arlo) --- Blanche has a gun pointed at our heroes. PTSD in a bottle, cause thats a thing that exists now. Wilson is still holding old job secrets from them? Thats... weird. --- Wait, Elliots dad is alive? But I thought that the episode ending implied otherwise? (Might be me being bad at understanding the subtext of that scene, might be a retcon) --- Mr Blanche has already beaten all the guards in the time it took a drugged out Elliot to break a chair. (Pretend to be the new guy, classic "heavy object in a sock" prison-improv weapon. 8/10, guy knows what he's doing, but is also a bit rusty and forced into improv mode) --- Turns out, he didnt retire because he wanted to retire but because no one would believe the ledger was destroyed. Luckily floppy disks suck at long-term storage.

Harry is talking with his old boss, trying to be the angel on his shoulder while the boss is trying to be the devil on his. (still really odd that we went through the trouble of establishing our heroes broke in to find Harry's ledger of old sins and that we're now going the "Harry wont tell them his old sins" route.) --- Copperhead and Elliot are talking. Copperhead does not want to go out by cancer. (we're faking his death and assigning him to International arent we?) --- Confetticannons are a go-go! (they're meant to simulate pages being shot by guns)

Blanche got disarmed and shot with his own gun. (definitly a death-fake) --- Huh, RIZ-woman doesnt actually kill the guards who fail her objectives. She just blackmails them into following their NDA's. (profesional)

Yup it was in the big samurai book. (obviously) and he's getting the rental.

OK so Hardison sent the library boy. (explains why he knew Spencers name)

Ok So Elliots dad is alive just not around for the holidays ever.