#his actions STILL hurt Charlie

[allastoredeer]

Controversial opinion but I think Lucifer gets babied too much by the fandom. Like I get that he has mental health issues but seeing all this fanmedia of women and men of color nannying this white-adjacent man who has been shown to be an incompetent and absent husband, father and leader. Just. Grinds my gears.

Not saying I hate Lucifer but... when people frame past radiostatic with current radioapple as a huge upgrade, it reeks of a woman leaving her abusive ex for a neglectful husband. While I'm glad Lucifer is a step up from Adam, I need to see actual improvements if I don't want to get the ick.

Agreed.

I massively agree.

Lucifer gets babied a lot. And like you said, yes, he has mental health issues and that's valid, but a lot of the time, it feels like his mental health issues become a scapegoat for his flaws and bad behavior.

Depression is a legit reason for Lucifer to struggle to maintain relationships and reach out to those he cares about. As someone who has suffered from depression, I understand pulling away from people, feeling like you need a reason to reach out to someone, having a negative opinion of oneself, getting overwhelmed with anxiety, even ignoring other people's attempts at reaching out to me because it's just...too hard and it's too much and you're stuck in this cycle that you can't break out of.

HOWEVER

Lucifer's depression doesn't take away from the fact that he's neglected Charlie as a parent. It doesn't negate the fact that he has acted condescendingly towards her and her ambitions. It doesn't counteract the fact that Charlie felt uncomfortable and awkward for a majority of their interactions in "Dad Beat Dad."

I sympathize with Lucifer having depression, but unfortunately, mental illness doesn't just effect you, it also effects the people around you, and i can't fault Charlie for her feelings too.

Because at the end of the day, Lucifer is Charlie's father.

Charlie is his child.

And as a parent, he has responsibilities. Ones that he failed to meet, which would have an effect on Charlie as children are meant to rely on their parents.

It's very telling that Charlie calls Lilith (who's been MIA for 7 years) more than she calls Lucifer (who's probably just a few Circles away). And no, I don't think this is because Lilith kept them separated and all that bullshit. I think Lucifer 100% had a hand in his and Charlie's estranged relationship and I hate it when he's passed off as nothing but a victim in all of it.

I hate it when he's boiled down to sad depressed man who's done nothing wrong. He has done plenty wrong.

And that's okay.

Because that's what makes his character good. He is multi-faceted. He is flawed. You can be depressed and still treat the people around you bad. I don't think Lucifer ever meant to be an absent parent, he obviously loves Charlie with all his heart, but that doesn't mean Charlie wasn't affected by his actions.

She very obviously was. Charlie is one of the most positive people in the show (to an extent that it becomes one of her flaws too), but the minute she called Lucifer it was a complete flip of how we normally see her. She was immediately annoyed. Her patience was already wire-thin. She was close to snapping so many times.

And I can see why. He only calls when he's bored/wants/needs something. He forgot about where she was and what she was doing despite her already telling him. He told her that he'd do anything to help her, and then said "no" the minute she asked.

Also, let's not forget how he answered the phone in the first place.

"Heeey, bitch!"

And look, it was funny. I laughed too. I still think it's funny.

But, imagine you called your dad for the first time in years (a dad you have a very strained relationship with) and the first thing you hear is a peppy, "Heeeeey, bitch!"

Like??? I can't blame Charlie for being annoyed as all hell, okay? I get the sense that she's been putting up with this bullshit for a VERY long time ad she's lost all patience for it. She's done. She's sick of it. She's been disappointed one too many times.

Also, yes, it's not just that Lucifer has been an absent father but he's been a neglectful ruler too. I wouldn't be surprised if Pentagram City has as much respect for him as they do for Charlie. I mean

HE SIGNED OFF ON THE EXTERMINATIONS

Lucifer gave the go-ahead for a yearly genocide of the people he rules over. Can we get some repercussions for that? Do you know how many people lost their friends? Family? Lovers? Vaggie literally spared a child--a CHILD. And I doubt that was the first kid ever confronted by an Exorcist.

Imagine that Cherri died during an Extermination and here we have Angel Dust meeting the person who stepped aside and let it happen. Do you think he wouldn't be mad?

Imagine Carmilla did lose her daughters during that Extermination. Do you really think she'd meet Lucifer and feel nothing but anger and contempt?

Personally, I think Lucifer agreeing to the Exterminations is what fractured his and Charlie's relationship. Like, fully fractured it. That was the last nail in the coffin.

And honestly, I WANT Lucifer to see the consequences of the Exterminations. I want him to have repercussions because that was an INCREDIBLY SHITTY THING TO DO. I imagine he didn't think there was any other option, but we also know that he didn't hold the sinners in high regard anyway. He had the lowest of low opinions of them. I doubt it took much convincing for him to agree.

Lucifer is the oldest being in the Pride Ring--he may be the oldest being in Hell. He's the most powerful person there. He is the embodiment of Pride. And he ACTS LIKE IT IN THE SHOW.

He has acted that way towards Charlie too. He didn't go to her hotel with an open mind. He wasn't actually listening to her plan or taking it into consideration. He played stupid when she asked him what he thought about it. And when the hotel was under attack, instead of stopping it (which he could easily done with a snap of his fingers), he was smirking and acting self-satisfied as he gloated about being "right" about Sinners.

And if you think I'm exaggerating then go rewatch that entire scene.

Look at him

He is acting so smug and he is rubbing it in Charlie's face.

LOOK AT CHARLIE! She is in distress. She is angry. And she is hurting. Her hotel is falling to pieces around her, her friends are in danger, and the whole time she had her dad gloating in her ear about why her dream is, essentially, a waste of time.

And the only thing that snapped him out of it was Charlie asking why Alastor (the one actually protecting the hotel) has more faith in her than her own father. It took Charlie bringing up Alastor again for Lucifer to knock his shit off.

Look at how hurt and closed off Charlie is in the last screenshot. I can't imagine that this is the first time Lucifer has acted towards her in this way. Do I think Lucifer meant to hurt Charlie?

No.

But did he?

Hell-to-the-fucking-YES!

Lucifer is an asshole. He acted like an asshole towards Alastor. He's acted like an asshole towards Charlie. And he kind of acted like an asshole towards the rest of the Hazbin crew considering he didn't exchange a single line of dialogue with them. They introduced themselves to him and that was it. Lucifer spent the rest of the time dissing on Alastor and talking exclusively to Charlie and Vaggie.

Lucifer suffers from depression, yes, but that doesn't take away that he is as much of an asshole as any other character in the show. And I hate that being stripped away and getting turned into this sad, babied little man who's awkward and shy and everyone else is just being mean to him. It's so dull and it's such a disservice to his character.

I don't want sweet, shy little UwU Lucifer that needs to be coddled.

I want mean, condescending, ass-hole Lucifer who reaps the consequences of his actions and grows from them.

[dennisboobs]

Interviewer: "I wanted to ask about your character. He's a sociopath--" Glenn: :-)

[hazelsmirrorball]

It's Not My Fault You're like In love with me or something | Charles Leclerc

SUMMARY: Y/n L/n new movie is opening new opportunities for her which means she has to do interviews were people can see her "lack of media training" and they start to doubt her relationship with Charles FACE CLAIM: Reneé Rapp pairings: Actress! Reader x Charles Leclerc a/n: I actually enjoyed the new mean girls movie and I am deeply in lov3 with reneé so here you guys go!

via twitter

y/nupdates via instagram

liked by username101, username23, yourusername and 1,390 others.

y/nupdates y/n leaving the after party after taking a tumble

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username19 now I know why Charles been mia she's literally making a fool out of herself

username123 mother

username12 ngl she ate with that fit

yourusername still can't believe that a fan account is the one that is exposing me

landonorris thanking the gods that the internet and Digital footprints is real

y/n via instagram

liked by danielricciardo, pierregasly, carlossainz55 and 1,903,290 others

yourusername cast party baby! No one got hurt in the making of these pics

view all comments

username120 okay? but Charles wasn't there?

username19 The paps pictures literally put you on blast

pierregasly I think the moment you took that picture with the champagne was the perfect moment to stop drinking

→ yourusername just looking for the person who asked

username15 the girls are fighting. Please @charles_leclerc come get your girl

→ yourusername Come get your girl @pierregasly

francisca.cgomes you look so so beautiful

username192 Charles not commenting freaks me out

via YouTube

yourusername via instagram

liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo, arthur_leclerc and 2,302,290 others.

yourusername mean girls out in theaters now!

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username21 what? girl after that interview I would've turned the comments off

username12 don't you have media training or something

username19 her pr manager has to work harder than the mclaren one

username160 Mother

username12 it's so hard that the f1 fandom doesn't understand her humor

landonorris since my job isn't that hard Im taking a part time. What do we think about acting

→ yourusername I can send you an email. there an open cast call for dicks

via YouTube

yourusername via insta stories charles_leclerc via insta stories

yourusername via instagram

liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo, charles_leclerc and 2,292,220 others.

yourusername her lack of media training is outrageous

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username190 girlie I'm so glad you are self aware about how iconic you are

username12 the girls who get it get it

username14 pls the caption

username280 her lack of media training is what makes y/n y/n

username189 her lack of media training is why we love her

username18 I'm tired of people saying that when it's literally you being yourself. Has no one ever seen her broadway videos?

username19 People saying that Charles can't stand her? hello read the room

username159 exactly! they forget that Charles knows she's like this and that why he loves her so much.

→ username1821 your parasocial relationship is insane

charles_leclerc via insta

liked by landonorris, yourusername, arthur_leclerc and 1,893,356 others.

charles_leclerc on wednesday I wear pink with the girl clumsy girl I feel in love with

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yourusername love you charlie

landonorris the movie wasn't half bad

arthur_leclerc stream sexy

comment have been restricted

...

Y/n turned to face Charles with a small smile adorning her lips. He mimicked her actions as he placed his phone in  between the two of them. His hand slowly reached towards her face pushing the hair away to get a better look of her eyes. 

“You don’t mind then?” Y/n asked softly her eyes never leaving his to notice if there was any sort of discomfort. He shook his head no, not breaking eye contact. 

“What leaves me surprised is the fact that you think it would bother me. I know you already, I’m aware that sometimes people don’t get your humor but I’ve been long enough with you to understand it” He said slowly pecking your lips to calm you down. You let out a chuckle as you played with his hair. 

“Actually, I was worried that you would have to worry about me beating your ass in F1” Y/n said, throwing her head back laughing. Charles playfully rolled his eyes pushing her shoulder softly, accidentally  knocking her off the bed. 

“Shit sorry!” he quickly got off the bed helping her off “but, you don’t even have your license, so I think you should stick to broadway”

[ohbother2]

OKAY SO-

Alastor lost his cool and flipped his shit immensely when Lucifer showed up - why would that be? and why wedge himself between Lucifer and Charlie? Why would he react so viscerally when his literal main-competitor for retaining his rank and respect is Vox, and Vox openly antagonises him first, trying to drag Alastor's reputation through the mud in his broadcasts

Alastor remains cool, calm, collected, and in doing so completely surpasses Vox's attempts

in many ways, Alastor is unflappable. Always smiling, always a step ahead, always the most powerful and domineering in a room

and then- Lucifer shows up. This short statured, rosy-cheeked, rather pathetic excuse of a man

he waltzes in to the hotel, a fumbling over-excited mess, the least threatening a person could possibly look in hell, barely reaching Alastor's waist

and yet, he outranks Alastor, he could over-power him easily, he is the predator

and Alastor simply cannot handle that

Alastor may be furious that such a week-minded, emotionally unguarded man ranks so far above him with no way for Alastor to even attempt to gain the same status

so what does Lucifer lack? what is the one thing Alastor can have that he can't?

a relationship with Charlie

his anger is calculated, he finds what hurts Lucifer, he finds his weakness, he grips onto it with both claws, and he drags it in front of him, mocking the fact that, yeah, sure Lucifer may outrank him, but in his daughters mind? one of the few things Lucifer can't control? Alastor has the power, has the lead - in all manners of 'power' and 'influence' that Lucifer cannot control, Alastor makes sure he knows he is on top - he is Charlie's favourite, he succeeds where Lucifer has failed her

regardless of his motives, he has been there for Charlie, and Lucifer hasn't, and that's all that matters

but why does he have this deep-rooted need to prove himself? why can he not accept that he is still the second most powerful in that hotel?

his need for power, for dominance, for control is shown again when Husk confronts him in the hallway

'big talk for someone who's also on a leash'

this time, Alastor doesn't even bother targeting Husker's, insecurities, his weaknesses

he drags him down the hallway chained at his neck, teeth gnashing and positively enraged

there's no typical Alastor intelligence or cunning behind this action - it is pure unadulterated rage, it's a: I can kill you, and I will

killing husk would be useless - Alastor obviously has a purpose for him, that's why he's been kept alive and the other overlords haven't, killing him would get rid of any leverage Alastor had, it would get rid of Husk full stop

Alastor has been gone for 7 years, and now he's back, supporting a cause he doesn't believe, forced to wander around the hotel halls and haunting its residents instead of freely roaming Hell

Lilith has also been gone 7 years - and she isn't yet back

Alastor just so happens to appear at the hotel mere moments after Charlie tries to talk to Lilith, marching into the foyer and wedging himself into the project with a showman's flair

he is chained, he is chained to that infernal hotel where he doesn't belong - he cannot be redeemed, he doesn't want to be redeemed

he is chained to Lilith, and by extension he is chained to Charlie

and in his eyes, he is powerless, so utterly and infuriatingly at the mercy of those above him, and that simply won't do

so what can he do? what can a man, whose greatest desire is power, who's biggest insecurity is the power and status he wields over others, do to reclaim some semblance of that power? how can he usurp Lilith? how can be make this soul-bond beneficial to him?

he can win Charlie over - he can replace her father in the process, he can mould her as he sees fit, he can play on her need to view the best in everyone, in the need to create friendships and her insatiable ability to care for those around her

he cannot get to Lilith, he cannot match Lucifer, but he can have Charlie

and he's nearly got her

and when he does? who's to say her naivety, her trust, the relationship he's intentionally crafted with her, leads her to strike a deal with him in a moment of need? when the angels attack, when the hotel begins to crumble, when heaven commands her to stop her efforts? why wouldn't she strike a deal, in her mind, he's as caring as a father figure, and a man who's been there since day one unlike either of her parents

she shakes his hand

he has her soul

he has Charlie, and he has Lilith, and he has Lucifer

there's nothing they can do, and isn't that really what power is? not raw-strength, not magic, not status, but the ability to control those who others may believe to be above your own station?

he's forced to the hotel, he's chained down and unable to grab for more power - if Lilith is preventing him from earning it himself, well, he can always just force her to give it to him

all it takes is one hand shake.

the cherry on top? he get's to show Lilith it's her own desire for him to be at the hotel that has allowed him to ensnare them all

[snowyh2o]

Just a random thought about how Alastor and Vox must’ve been really good friends before everything fell apart. Because Alastor knows how to make a video ad, he knows how to set things up for a movie/video shoot, things that had nothing to do with his medium, that he probably learned how to do because of Vox, because he was willing to try and learn from or for Vox. And Vox literally welcomes Alastor back home when he finds out he’s returned, has literally counted the years Alastor’s been missing when no one else seemed to know, and fashioned his clothing style to match Alastor’s (assuming it’s not just a case of everyone gets a pinstripe suit!), uses the same techniques Alastor taught Charlie about how smiling can be a tool to keep you ahead of the game.

And how it all fell apart and it wasn’t just Vox that was hurt in the process. Because you can’t tell me the man who hates TVs and modern tech due to its association with Vox doesn’t feel anything for what friendship they had and lost. Who snarls at the mere sight of him on a screen (admittedly while also dissing Alastor), who went straight back to his radio tower to diss Vox right back (and absolutely crush him lol), before threatening him against taking action, privately, twice. Alastor’s just better at hiding how much it’s affected him, and doesn’t let the bitterness of what used to be consume his every waking thought.

And maybe that’s the difference between how they view their old relationship and how the fandom seems to view it. Alastor’s upset about it, sure. He’s bitter now about Vox and everything Vox represents because he’s a past friendship that failed, but he’s also moved on with his life. Vox hasn’t. Vox still obsesses over Alastor, in the way he dresses, the way he talks, how he presents himself. It’s all reminiscent of Alastor. And when he finds out Alastor’s returned, the first thing he does is draw attention to how Alastor’s back! Talk in a roundabout way about how much he’s missed him! Has wondered where he’s been? Sends a spy into the hotel to, well, spy on Alastor! And when that doesn’t work, Vox continues to stalk Alastor through his drones instead. (And then gets off on seeing Alastor get beat up.)

Vox very much has not moved on from whatever friendship they’d had before. He hasn’t moved on from Alastor. (Or from his heavily implied obsessive crush).

We don’t know what happened between them, aside that it’s complicated and sad, that they were friends, and now they’re very much not, and that maybe part of the reason why is because Alastor rejected Vox’s request to join his team (upend his entire life to partner with Vox, assuming Alastor always worked solo and what the Vees currently have is what Vox had wanted with Alastor with his request). We can assume maybe part of why they fell apart was because Vox wanted something more from his relationship with Alastor, something Alastor could not and did not want to give him. Or maybe they just grew apart, grew distant. Vox constantly upgrading and changing and keeping up with the newest trends, chasing whatever new Thing that’ll keep him relevant, while Alastor remained set in his ways because he’s not looking for the approval of the masses.

Anyways, all this to say: when I, and I assume most other OneWayBroadcast fans talk about one-sided radiostatic, it is specifically about how Vox has a one-sided romantic/sexual attraction/crush on Alastor, that Alastor does not return, that has now turned into a one-sided obsession over Alastor. Not that their entire friendship was completely one-sided. I think saying that Vox was the only one who was ever invested in their relationship is a rather bad faith interpretation of Alastor’s character, but also does not do their relationship justice at all. It minimizes Vox’s responsibility in the fallout of their friendship, and puts the blame only on Alastor. It takes away all the juicy complexities of Vox’s character, how he’s bad person who’s done and is doing bad things, and paints him as an innocent victim to “Alastor’s manipulation”.

That’s not to say Alastor was completely innocent in the fallout either. But I hear a lot more about how the fandom woobifies Vox in their relationship than I do Alastor.

[fashionteahouse]

hiii, can you write one where the reader is like a brazilian bombshell and she moved there with her dad from california and paul imprints.buttt(BARE WITH ME🙏) paul doesn’t know that irritating people comes with having a pretty girlfriend .(you can add your own twist to it to make it better ofc tyyy<33)

heyy yes i can <33 ! hope you enjoy :)

so hot you’re hurting my feelings - paul x reader

Friends were shocked that you were moving. You looked at it as a new venture in life. Your father deciding to take his successful law firm to Washington, spreading out his reputation.

You snicker at the town’s name, Forks.

Your father couldn’t help but smile back as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“What made you pick this town of all places?” you ask in curiosity. He could’ve gone anywhere with his last name alone.

“An old buddy of mine, Charlie Swan, is the chief of police. I think it will do his town real good.” he says with a smile.

“He has a daughter around your same age.” he adds on. He knew you had to leave your friends behind.

That Saturday, while Charlie invited your father over for a game, you tagged along.

You sat while Charlie and your father talked about the good old high school days. The game started to come on and you chuckled at the zoned out expression that they both displayed as they started to tune into the game. Beer in hand.

A door opens and a girl’s voice bells out, “Dad, I’m home.”

She enters the living room and you look up from your phone while you were sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” you say.

“Hi.” she says to you and takes a look at her father and pokes his shoulder.

He mumbles, “Hey, Bells.”

She shakes her head a bit and laughs before looking to you.

“You can escape with me if you want. They’re not going to be much company.” she tells you.

You rise up with a grin as you knew that the statement was accurate.

You follow her up the stairs and into her room.

“Did you just move here?” she asks you.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, cool. Where from?” she asks.

“California.”

She grins a bit, “Cool. I used to live there.”

Your eyes widen a bit, but also excited that someone knew what it was like to live there.

“Nice! But um…How come you live here now?” you ask.

“I lived there with my mom. I came here to live with my dad.” she explains, “What about you?”

You tell her the action your dad took in order to win the local’s hearts.

“I will say, I will miss the sunny beach.” you say as you look out of her window to watch the dreary weather set in.

“La Push has a beach. It’s not on the sunny side like Cali but, the beach is still nice.” she says.

“Where’s that?”

“It’s on the rez. I hang there a lot. You can come with me tomorrow…If you’re not doing anything.”

You agree. You had no plans and you wanted to distract yourself of people telling you how much they missed you. It made you a bit sad.

“Have fun. Please stay safe.” your father tells you as you slid on your jacket at the door. Bella was outside in her truck waiting for you.

“Always am, dad. Love you.” you tell him and zip out of the house.

You chatted with Bella all the way up until you both had arrived.

Bella’s face lifts up as she looks at the group of people that is already there.

“You know them?” you ask her as you both walk side by side towards them.

“Yeah. You will like them.” she says with a smile.

“Bella!” you hear a boy’s name call her. Bella is wrapped in a tight bear hug and she smiles and tells him, “Jake..Can’t..Breathe.”

“Sorry.” he says with a smile and looks to you. He immediately gets nervous and you grin and just stick out your hand and tell him your name. He shakes it but you had to pull back your hand because he kept it in his hand for too long. You were used to stuff like that.

“We were playing soccer. Join.” he drags out the last part and Bella retracts as she shakes her head.

“Jake, I’m not athletic you know this.” she says.

“We’re not going to the Olympics, Bells. Just having fun.” he reassures and takes her hand and guides them to what you assume are his friends.

You couldn’t take your eyes away from them as they were all tall but the jackets that they had on didn’t hide their muscular build.

You felt eyes on you and you didn’t let it affect you.

Jacob introduced you to everyone and you look over to a see a boy who is owning the soccer ball with his knee and foot. Easily keeping it from fall to the ground. You were impressed.

He looks up and it was your turn to feel nervous. You weren’t new to handsome men, they were everywhere in a big city from where you were from.

But this guy was different. His sharp features captured all of your attention. His gaze back at you made you feel like a childish school girl seeing her crush for the first time ever. You wanted to do nothing but know everything about him. You wanted to know his dreams and also his deepest fears. In a way, you didn’t know why, but you felt that he could protect you from any and everything.

You felt a nudge on your shoulder.

“Are you playing with us. Please don’t leave me hanging.” Bella says and you snap back into reality.

“Yeah. I’ll play.” you say.

Jacob had an arm wrapped around Bella as he announced that Bella was going to be on his team.

That’s when chaos erupted, they all hounded you to ask whose team you’re going to be on. All except one.

The boy looked at the scenery as he now had the ball in his hand, fidgeting with it.

You point him.

“I will be on his.” you say. Groans were belted out and that’s when he displayed a grin on his face, it motivated you to walk over to him.

You find out his name was Paul. It felt nice when you repeated it back. It felt nice to hear your name fall from his lips.

You laughed as people pointed at him and called him a show off. Apparently it’s the best he’s ever played and they put it on you being in attendance.

“Fuck off. You all suck.” he says with a cocky smile.

This made you chortle and your cheeks burn when he looks to you, happy to make you react in a positive way.

You soon found yourself separated from the other individuals and found yourself under his arm as you both walked along the beach.

He asked about you. You asked about him. The conversation was pleasant to both of you.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks you.

“Nothing. Why?” you look to him.

You soon find out why, he wanted to take you out. You agree with strong willing.

As you both made your way back to the crowd, the guy you knew as Embry speaks out to say, “Are we going to Emily’s or what? I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.” Sam says with slight annoyance but makes the effort to start to leave off the beach.

Paul looks down to you, you were grateful that he didn’t unwrap his arm from around you.

“Do you want to come?” he asks in your ear. You almost agree but you remember you came with Bella.

You see that Bella was currently on Jake’s back while laughing as he jogged, following the others.

“Sure.” you say.

The home that everyone went into was cozy.

You met Emily, who was Sam’s fiancé, she had a warm presence and welcomed you with open arms.

As you sat next to both Bella and Leah, you ate a sandwich. You noticed Paul watched over you as if he was being cautious. You didn’t mind but you felt flattered that he was being somewhat protective.

As you rode back home with Bella, she gives you a knowing look.

“So, are getting cozy with Lahote?” she asks as she keeps one hand on the wheel.

“That’s his last name?” you ask. She nods. Then you smile.

“I guess. He’s cute.” you say with admittance as you looked out of the window.

“I’m sure he thinks you’re cute as well.” she says jokingly.

“I know you aren’t talking. I seen you and Jake.” you say while grinning. A blush immediately forms and she starts to stutter, “Seen me and Jake do what?”

You playfully roll your eyes, “Are you two a thing?”

“I don’t know. He’s my best friend. I don’t want to make things awkward.” she admits.

“Things did not look awkward.” you say as you laugh.

Over dinner, your father admits that he’s fond of the relationship that you created with Bella Swan.

“Yeah. I got to meet her friends.” you tell him as you pick up a vegetable with your fork.

“From her school?” he asks.

“Nah, from the rez.” you tell him.

“Oh. Charlie told me he goes there from time to time to go fishing.” he mused.

“I um…Also have a date.” you say.

Your father sets his fork down and you look to him.

“We just moved here, Y/N. I’m not letting anyone take advantage of you.” he says firmly.

“He’s not going to take advantage of me. He was the only guy not to hound me and…I appreciate that.” you say looking down.

“You know I’m meeting this kid, right?” he says to you and you nod once. You both go back to eating.

You sat on the steps of your home with your phone in your hand. You were a bit nervous as the time ticked down for Paul to pick you up.

The doorbell is heard at the door and your father comes out of nowhere and opens the door.

Your father puts on his buisness voice as he looks at the young man who has plucked flowers in his hand.

Your father shook his hand and introduced himself as your father. Paul introduced himself back and treated your father with respect.

Paul walks you to the car and opens the car door for you.

“Thank you.” you say in appreciation. He hands you the flowers and you accept them and tell him, “Thank you.”

You both sat at an intimate table, close to each other as both of your legs touch each other. You both are a bit leaned forward as you both got finished sharing a piece of cake.

The waiter comes with the check. Paul glares at him as the waiter gives you a smile and offers you a free drink.

“It’s on me.” he says.

“Thank you.” Paul says to him in a loud voice to get him to move along.

You look down to hide your laugh as the waiter seemed to be disappointed that he couldn’t talk to you anymore.

You look back up as the waiter is gone to see Paul with an annoyed look on his face. You caress his cheek, “It’s okay.” you coo to him with a smile.

“He clearly sees me on a date with you. So disrespectful.” he says but his soften face doesn’t match the rough tone in his voice.

“How can I make you feel better?” you ask him. You watch as he grins a little and leans forward a bit and you lean to meet his lips. He places a hand on your cheek as you both breathe each other in like oxygen.

“I’m scared. I can’t do it.” Bella says to you as she sits on your bed.

“Just do it. Rip it off like a bandaid.” you say as you grab your shoes from your closet.

“Do I do it after the movie or during?” she wonders and runs a hand through her hair due to nervousness.

You place a hand on hers, “When the time is right.”

You hear a honk and grab her hand, “That’s them.”

You guide her out of the house and Jacob’s car is in front of your home. Paul comes out of the passenger seat and chooses to sit in the back with you and you convince Bella to sit in the passenger seat.

You and Paul hold hands in the car. You and Paul hold hands when Jacob park in front of the movie theater.

Paul buys your ticket and you hear a whistle.

You look to the source and seen a man walking past, taking a good look at you.

“You should smile more.” he says to you as you don’t display a friendly demeanor. You hated being catcalled.

“And you should keep it moving.” Paul hissed at him and pulled you closer and steer you away.

You didn’t really care for the movie. You instead snake your hand into Paul’s hair as people screamed onscreen.

He turns his head to look at you and you pull him into a kiss. His tongue was your favorite movie. The best part was that you didn’t even have to open your eyes to watch it.

When the movie was over, you and Bella head off to the bathroom.

“Did you do it?” you ask her.

“I…I only kissed him on the cheek.” she says as she runs her hands over the water.

You look at her through the mirror, “Well. That’s a start.”

“I can’t just pop out with it, you know.” she says.

“Well, you gave him the green light to possibly ask you.” you tell her. She nods a bit to agree.

You come out and you decide to get a drink since you were thirsty.

The man behind the counter smiled extra wide as you tell him what drink you wanted to get.

You pull out your money as he hands you a self serve cup.

“Don’t worry about. Your beauty already paid for it.” he says to you. You still tell him thanks, even though you thought the statement was a bit corny.

“Do you come here often?” he then asks, not even bothering to be professional by leaning forward.

You open your mouth and you feel something around your waist as you hear Paul’s voice say, “Yeah. With me.”

The dirty look that Paul gives the man, makes him sober up. He backed off and walked away and you turn to him.

“You’re like my body guard.” you joke to him.

You rubbed your hand on his arm as he muttered, “I don’t mind protecting you from those idiots.”

Your father had gotten used to Paul being around more often.

So often, that he asked you one night, “You’re not hanging with Paul tonight? It’s Friday.”

“Nah. He has to work.” you tell your father, but you knew the real reason why.

Bella called you that next day, in a frenzy.

“Calm down, I can’t make out what you’re saying.” you speak to her on the phone.

She takes a breath before speaking again, “Okay. Jacob invited me to a bonfire and I really need you to come because I don’t want to go by myself in case this thing bomb on me. Please say you will go.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll go.” you say to her and she tells you, “Good because I’m already on my way to your house.”

“Of course you are.” you say shaking your head in an amusement manner.

Paul didn’t expect you to come to the bonfire. So when you both saw each other, the hugs were big and so were the kisses.

As you were slumped next to him, hearing the deep timber of Jacob’s father’s voice, you got to be exposed into the history of their world.

As everyone mingled about after the stories, you look around as Jared pressed Paul about stealing the last burger.

Your eyes widened at the sight. You seen Jacob have his hand in Bella’s, but he was leaning down. Bella’s hand was close to his neck as she held him there and you smiled to yourself as you knew she would tell you all about it.

“What are you smiling about?” Paul asks you.

“I’m just happy.” you tell him and then put your hand in his and interlaced it with his.

[liveontelevision]

Suffer Epilogue | Lucifer x Reader

Thanks for the patience friends, been a busy bee :') but here she is in all her glory, a happy ending for everyone!

SMUTSMUTSMUTSMUTSMUT MINORS DNI 18+

♡♡♡

The feeling of royal silks and golden embroidery under your fingertips are soothing in their own sense. But what lies beneath is what truly interests you. With his own assistance, his beautifully constructed suit vest is removed. You needed no help when it came to swiftly unbuttoning the entirety of his blouse. What's revealed is a heaving chest, a rosy blush tainting its snow-white complexion.

You want to taint it more.

You dip your head down, running your hands down the length of his sweet skin, until your palms rest comfortably on either side of his waist. Tracing your thumbs across that nerve that continuously forces a subtle jerk, you leave a trail of kisses and nips across his chest. The additional discoloration of your delicate bruising only paints a prettier picture below you.

Leading your hands back up to his chest, you brush your fingers across his skin delicately. An action much less intimate than anything that's just occurred seems to force a vocal response. A whimper, muffled into the back of his ash-colored hand, contrasts the blush on the apple of his cheeks quite nicely.

You look at him, like an artist enjoying their latest creation, beaming at him with pride.

Back to work.

Pressing feather-light kisses up the column of his neck, you take a gentle hold of his wrist to pull his hand away from his lips, wanting to leverage the sweet whines that spill out. You continue on until you barely kiss the corner of his mouth, refusing to give him what he wants.

But only for a moment.

Once he's nearly begging for a kiss, you let your lips meet his tenderly. A passionate exchange of pants and occasional nipping at his lower lip, Lucifer manages to let out something other than a breathy whine -

"Darling, I.. I love y-"

Your hand is immediately clamped over his mouth. You stare at each other with wide eyes, at the sudden action. After a breathless moment had passed, you quickly pull your hand to your chest and sit up.

"S-Sorry! I just.. sorry! Did.. that hurt..?" You ask with a hint of hesitation to your voice, as if you weren't exactly sure you wanted the response.

Lucifer sits up from lying on his back to resting on his elbows, still quite comfortable with you straddling his topless form. He lets out a nervous chuckle, his eyes glowing up at you.

"Well..! Not physically." He says, a tinge of frustration in his words. "Is there.. something we need to discuss, dear?"

Shit.

You suck in your lower lip and quickly shake your head.

"N-No! I don't think so! Nothing important!" You stammer out. Your nervous smile is only met with a stern expression of disbelief, then a sigh that sounds like an admission of defeat. Lucifer brings his hand up to caress your cheek.

"I won't force anything out of you, but I.. am getting a little worried." You can't control the involuntarily flinch at his touch, and it only seems to dishearten him more. Before he can pull away, you take a grasp of his hand and bring it back to cup your cheek.

"I know. I'm sorry." Your response is almost a whisper. The sound of vibration against a nearby nightstand brings both of your attention to your phone. You carefully unmount him, after receiving a quick kiss on the forehead, and glance at the reminder sent by the one and only princess of Hell; Exercise on the importance of communication is in 10!

Feeling a gentle hand encase your shoulder, you catch Lucifer sneaking a peak at your screen - "Hm. That one should be good for you, my dear." - only to antagonize you. You groan and shrug him off before standing.

He's.. not wrong, though.

The hotel wasn't exactly bustling with residents, but since the mini-battle with that damned radio demon, there were definitely some new faces. Charlie couldn't be happier, especially with the news of her friend Sir Pentious making it safely to Heaven. The hotel was working. And it was finally peaceful.

But, there's always a quiet before the storm.

Charlie was now aware of your relationship with her father, even if it wasn't by your own admission. And after Lucifer requested a one-on-one with Vaggie, something that occurred more often after her angelic strength was restored, you had the hotel manager cheering you on as well.

It didn't take long for Angel or Husk to find out, but that was mainly a precursor to Niffty interrupting some private time you were trying to have with Lucifer. And Alastor.. he hadn't shown his face since the fight. On occasion though, you'd catch his scowling shadow. As if the shadow met your eyes, its smile curls upwards.. and it waves.

You wave back.

It was nice for everyone to know, actually. You thought you weren't one to enjoy PDAs of any kind, but having Lucifer sitting near you at all times, his fingers interlaced with yours, or even his thigh gently touching yours, felt like a well-earned reward. Best of all, him placing his hand on the small of your back while greeting new residents, you got to his expression. A grin of pride adorned his face each time. Damned, if that didn't make you feel amazing.

That being said, things must be perfect between you and the king, right? For the first time, there's nothing threatening your relationship. It's out in the open, even. You're being supported by the one demon who matters most, Charlie, and you've never felt more.. loved...

Love.

You told Lucifer you loved him. In the heat of battle, when Charlie was mere seconds from tearing Alastor apart, you told him you loved him.

It feels foolish. How could you bring something like that up in a moment of such severity? Then again, Maybe that was it. Maybe you just said it to get it out of your system at your most vulnerable. 

Maybe you didn't even mean it.

You shake that thought from your head every time it comes up. And unfortunately, it comes up often. On the other end, Lucifer was always there to calm your nerves. With every little kiss, every embrace, every bite, he would suffocate any retched thought that you dared to come up with.

An unfortunately common occurrence, your battery had simply run out today. You have to find Lucifer.

"Luci?" You call out, peeking into his office. He's hunched over his desk, groaning and waving you over to him in response. You happily trot along, setting a tray of teacups beside him on his desk.. well you tried to at least. Stacks of papers were covering most of the tabletop, and any little movement would surely cause something to tumble. You opt to set the trey aside and hand him his cup directly. With an exaggerated groan, he leans back in his chair, his head lulling back.

"I believe I'm dying my love." He mutters out. You roll your eyes in response and lean your back against the edge of his desk.

"I highly doubt that." You respond with a smirk. You watch him rake his fingers through his hair, before finally taking a sip of the tea. His eyes almost immediately soften. With a sigh from his lips, he sets the cup aside and starts rubbing his neck.

"I'm proud of Charlie, and I'm more than happy to help- I'd even prefer to do all the communication with Heaven, but.. this?" He gestures weakly to the forest of paperwork shrouding his desk. "This is literal Hell."

You shrug, "Well, You're not wrong." You sit up, chuckling when he shoots you a glare. You stand behind him, gently placing your hands on his shoulders. "If it's stressing you out so much, why don't you take a quick break? My treat~" You bend at the hips to whisper in his ear, his shudder in response only raising your ego more.

"I-I don't know, I'm.. I still have a lot to do, and some of this needs to be.. sent over... tomorrow..." As he hesitates over your offer, you're already working his shoulders with gentle hands. Pressing your thumbs into where it feels the most tense, you have to work hard to untangle the knots in his muscles. Your hands slide from neck to shoulder, then move farther up each time, eventually toying with the hairs on the back of his neck, earning you a delectable shudder.

“D-Darling, I really should get some more done.." He groans out, as you brush his hair away from his face and rake your nails down his scalp.

After seeing his eyes flutter shut, his head having fallen backward onto the chair, you press a quick kiss to his forehead.

"You're doing great, Luci. I'll be here to help in any way I can." You say sweetly. He looks up to you with half-lidded eyes and tucks the hair that dangles in front of you behind your ear. You hum, quite content with his motion to pull you into an upside-down kiss.

The next thing you know, you're perched on his desk, most of the papers scattered around you. Lucifer keeps a tight grip on either side of your legs, pulling you completely flush to him in one fell swoop. With a little yelp, your playful giggles are snuffed by a deep kiss. His hands explore your sides, tracing over every curve he can get his hands on. With one swipe, his claws barely graze your skin, having snuck under your top without you truly noticing.

You respond with a gasp, wide eyes only met with shut, concentrated ones. His hand moves quickly, completely encompassing your chest with one hand, caressing and toying with your breasts. You try to let out a moan in response, but he's refusing to break the passionate wrestling of your tongues for even a second.

You arch your back, forcing your bodies even closer together. a feat you thought impossible, until you feel him leaning closer, creating friction against your heat you weren't expecting.

You tighten your legs around his waist, involuntarily bringing his hips closer to yours. You let out another muffled whine, gripping desperately at his hair at the nape of his neck.

While this is fun and all.. you want to see his face. 

You want to see his desperation and frustration as you pull yourself away and force him to return to work, only for you to tease him in other facets.

You place both your hands on his chest and gently push away, your body leaning closer to the desk. And you get exactly what you want. A panting, desperate mess, looking ready to beg for you to continue on. But he doesn't beg. Instead,

".. I love you." He says weakly.

Your body is brought to a complete halt, your legs and arms tightening around him with the sudden tension of your muscles. You look at him with wide eyes, and he only realizes the source of the disruption once he's fully regained his composure.

You've never seen him this way. Frustrated. Disappointed. Fuck, it's the worst. He paces back and forth in front of you, still a mess sitting on his desk.

"I-I just don't understand, I love you-" He emphasizes his words and you bite your lip and force your eyes down.

"-and I know you love me back. You said it first." He was right. He looks at you with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot as if he were impatiently waiting for a response.

"I did- I do..! I just- I'm worried about.. something happening, or someone-" You stammer a completely unreasonable response out and it only forces a worried look onto him.

Damn, that one's even worse.

"Look, I'm trying to figure out why I can't say- .. but, I feel it, Lucifer, I promise." You say weakly, clutching at your chest, unsure if it was meant to imply how your heart is brimming with thoughts of him, or if it's due to your own nerves. Your eyes are drawn from your lap to Lucifer's soft expression when his hand gently cradles your chin. Your eyes are glossy, almost ready to tear apart.

"I know, darling. I just hate to see you in this much distraught over something like this. I'll always be here, and my feelings will never change.. so I'm more than willing to wait for you to be ready for this to go on any further." Again, his words always calm down. "but... this is affecting me as well. If I can help you-" 

"Lucifer, I can handle myself-"

"-can handle yourself,” He interrupts in tandem. “I know. I know you can." He lets out a sigh, his smile dropping bringing a pain to your chest. "I'll be here for you, my love. For anything." He plants a quick kiss to your cheek. "I should.. get some work done. And uh.. clean up this mess." His gesture to the piles of papers, now on the floor, brings a small smile to your lips.

"I'm sorry, Lucifer."

"I know."

-

No one frustrates you more than yourself. Are you questioning his feelings? Your feelings? What if you don't trust him? After all this time, all the hurdles you've had to jump, and how he's stuck with those?

Cursing yourself, you're pacing the balcony to your hotel room, a pleasant addition after the reconstruction. Yet, all it's been good for is getting fresh air from the suffocating thoughts in your head. It wasn't voices exactly, you just always felt as if your mind was vibrating at this weird frequency. As if there was a static-

"What do you think you're doing? Trying to cause more trouble? You shouldn't be here." Leaning against the railing, you call out to the familiar sensation.

"I'm on thin ice already, darling, I hope you don't think I'm idiotic enough to cause more trouble so soon." Just as you thought, Alastor stands upright from his shadowy figure, leaning against his microphone by your side.

This was the first time he's emerged since he got his ass thoroughly kicked by Charlie. And even after all that's gone on, you allow him to stand by your side, staring down at the city.

"Did you ever love me? That whole time?" Your question seems to startle him, you see his hand flinch against his cane at your voice.

"Love? That isn't exactly.. Something I do." He responds. You scoff at his tacky words,

"So, what, you've never loved anyone before? How do you-"

"I'll say it, if it will stop you from asking me ridiculous questions." You hold your hand up dismissively.

"Don't." He swoons in your direction, a hand over his heart following a dreamy sigh.

"Oh my sweet apple pie, I love y-"

"Stop it." You snap. He retreats, bending at the hips to lean against the railing.

"Speaking of.. apple pie-"

"He's not here. We're uh.. taking some time to yourselves." You admit quickly, looking away and nervously fidgeting with your fingers.

"Ah, and you were looking for a little rebound?" You groan at his words,

"No! Stop it you freak!" You push him away, despite the fact he made no real advance. He only retaliates with a hearty chuckle.

"Come now, You know I just enjoy your misfortune."

You let out a calm huff, your tension melting at the cool breeze that fills the silence between you.

"I'm scared. There's always something that's torn us apart. And usually, it's been my fault. What if I screw it up again, Al?" Your sudden openness brings a curious eye over to you. Still, Alastor stops to think before he speaks.

"What was the cause of your first uncoupling?" You cock your head in confusion, but he ushers you on.

"Well.. I kissed him while he was married.. In Charlie's nursery. While she was sleeping." You mumble your words, an embarrassing look back to what started this all. Alastor's holding back a laugh.

"And he refused you?"

You shake your head in response.

"No, actually, Lillith caught me."

He hums, before continuing his questioning.

"And the other time.. was my doing, correct?" His words hold no static, a human voice greeting you for the first time.

"Uh.. Yeah." You confirm softly, a bit of shock coming through your own voice.

"Well, it seems like the constant here is your little apple pie." His says. You quickly clarify,

"I don't call him that, just so you know."

"Well. He's quite the thorn in my side. So he must be an even sharper one in yours. He's surely not going anywhere without a fight." His words are laced with irritation and honesty. "Do you doubt that?"

"Well.. no. I don't. I believe in him." You say.

"Then that seems to matter more than anything, my dear." You ruminate for a moment. It can't be that easy..

"But what if-"

"Listen close." Alastor takes a firm grasp on your jaw and moves to face you entirely. He brings you to a sharp stance, your eyes wide at the sight of his towering form. "Despite my intentions, I did learn quite a lot about you during our time together, my dear. Your head is always full of static, you overthink every damn thing. Quite a nasty habit, I must say."

Seeing your breath pick up, he scowls and tosses his hand away with a sigh.

"Do you love him?"

Soothing your jaw, you look at him with a hint of disdain, but his question throws you off.

"I.. I think so..?"

"Then trust that. Trust the quiet. There isn't always a storm to follow, you know." You look away from him, thinking on his words. Leaning back against the railing, a final cool breeze blowing through your hair, you realize you can't deny him.

"Thanks, Alastor. You know I'm sure you could come back and-"

You look over to Alastor only to find yourself standing alone on the balcony.

-

You'll refuse to give Alastor credit until the day you drop dead - so never - but you were suddenly feeling very.. peckish.

With a determined huff, you approach Lucifer’s bedroom door. And with an even more determined knock, the door cracks open. Without a true greeting, you almost hesitate. Maybe he’s upset with you..? Maybe he isn’t ready to see you after- 

There isn’t always a storm to follow.

You take a deep breath.

“Can I come in?” You peek inside, just your head entering the room. It feels strange announcing your entrance.. You’ve slept beside him a number of times, his bedroom is all too familiar. You take in his lounging figure, despite the fact he’s beckoned you over with a smile. It’s a tired smile, sure, but he put it on just for you.

His room consists of his ridiculously large bed, king size obviously, and a little nook that houses a love seat and a small fireplace. He’s laid about the cushions of the love seat, a book in hand and some reading glasses miraculously pitched on his nose.

You remember him telling you he doesn't need them.. Of course he doesn't, he’s an angelic being. But he likes to play pretend.

You take in a deep breath, making Lucifer lower his book to look at you, his elbow resting on the arm and his face resting on his hand.

“Lucifer, I'm- I need to tell you-” You stammer through what you can barely call a sentence.

“Well don't force yourself, dear.” He rolls his eyes and sends you a sly smile, lightening the tension with some usual teasing remarks.

“I'm not! You've just.. you’ve done so much for me and that- it’s hard. To rely on someone. To.. need someone. But I do and-and I can't ignore it anymore. I need you by my side, Lucifer. I.. trust you.” You rant on, not entirely understanding the words coming from your own mouth. This goes on for a minute. Trying to say I love you without saying it directly is proving to be a more difficult task than you initially thought. So..

“I love you.”

It’s quick, almost timid coming from your breathless chest. Suddenly very alert, Lucifer sits up and cocks his eyebrow at you.

“I'm sorry?” He responds. Is he doing this on purpose?

“I-I said.. I love you…” You struggle to repeat yourself.

“I don't think I caught that.” Oh, he’s absolutely doing this on purpose.

“Lucifer, please.” You whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He stands, approaching you without hesitation, without anticipation, without anger- you can’t read him. Your breath quickens.

“Say it again.” Standing directly in front of you, he barely has the upper hand. The smallest height difference gives him the slightest chance to look down at you, and you’re suddenly wishing you prepared yourself for this more. His stern voice is sending shivers down your spine.

“I-I.. love you. Lucifer.” You repeat with a squeak, looking to him like you’re speaking a foreign language. Like you aren't sure if he’s truly understanding your words. Those three simple words.

“Again.” He says in a low tone. When you finally look to his eyes, they’re softer than you originally thought. And despite his thoughtless approach, looking crude and intimidating, he’s completely red in the face.

“I.. I-I lov-” Before you can fulfill his request, his lips are on yours. Suddenly acting very desperate, he swallows the rest of your sentence. Your eyes flutter shut, his arms quickly wrapping around your waist and pulling you in. He traces your curves, his hands all too familiar with your body at this point. Not making it too far from the entrance of the bedroom makes the process of bringing you against the wall far too easy.

Whether it be his strength or your complete trust in him, you pay no mind when the back of your head hits the wall with a subtle thunk. You were sure if someone were in the hall at that moment, they would feel the need to check on the ruckus. You attempt to brace your arms against the wall, but Lucifer’s hands are instantly encasing your wrists, bringing your hands to his shoulders.

Touch him. He wants you to touch him.

You oblige, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck to keep yourself anchored. His tongue slips into your mouth smoothly and is searching for your own. With lavish rolls of his tongue, your neck can barely handle the weight of your own head, lulling along to follow his movements. He brings a hand to the back of your head, to cradle it, to keep you exactly how he wants you. Tilting his head just slightly, he devours any and every little sound that manages to slip out, your lips completely locked.

Lucifer brings you in closer, and you almost immediately noticing the constricted bulge pressing into your thigh. It’s enough to snap a snarky remark from you once you can pull away.

“If that’s all I needed to say to get you this excited, I would've said it soon-” Before you can tease him further, he pulls your lips against his again, a quick but sloppy kiss hazing your mind. He takes your neck firmly, his thumb and index finger guiding your head to the side. Bringing his lips to your ear, his voice fans across your ear.

“Say it, again.” 

You want to scold him, when his passion brings the slightest flame against your ear. But the burning sensation, and his hand encapsulating your neck, is withering any words you were planning on saying. Which pushes Lucifer’s request to the back of your mind.

He plans a heavy kiss against your jaw, just in front of your ear, exhaling deeply. “My love-” 

He brings you back for a moment.

“I-I love you, Lucifer-” You mutter out, your voice much higher than you intended it to be. His lips are on yours again. Not daring to break the connection, it takes nothing for him to bring your legs up and around his waist, where he holds you against his chest tightly. It doesn't last long though, because your back hits the plush blankets of the bed before you can truly process your feet were ever off the ground.

He crawls onto your lying form, his arms caging you in. You were expecting to see a lust-driven monster with how he's acting, but once you see his face, you’re met with sparkling eyes and a lip bitten so hard, that the slightest well of golden blood shines off his sharp teeth. A more familiar expression brings you some relief. You run the back of your fingers across his cheek, which he chases with a sudden smile.

“I love you.” You repeat. This one seems to take all the breath from his lungs. Because he didn't ask you to say it. You said it because it was simply true. You said it because you simply love him.

Your hand curls around his jawline, giving you a gentle hold on his face, to bring his lips back to yours. You hum sweetly into his lips, feeling them curl into a smile against yours. He’s quick to trail the kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your jawline, then down to the column of your neck. They become deeper, sloppier, with each kiss. Occasionally, he’ll bite. Or he’ll leave the smallest bruises around your collarbone. It has all melded into one passionate sensation that you can only respond to with soft whimpers and breathy moans.

He’s completely kissed down your body, his movements bringing him down until he’s seated on the floor by the bed. You sit up on your elbows when you muster the strength, but your stability is quickly taken away when your ankles are taken in both his hands. He yanks you down the bed until your hips sit just at the edge. The sudden motion forces a concession of giggles and a startled yelp from you, music to his ears.

His ability to overwhelm your senses leaves you defenseless to him stripping you. It doesn't take much, while you weren't expecting this exactly, you did arrive in loungewear. Which makes it much easier for him to quickly access your clothed heat that had already soaked your bottoms with his treatment.

“L-Lucifer, you don’t have to- Mmn!” Your words are interrupted by a curled finger pressing the fabric of your briefs in between your folds. He drags his knuckle across your opening, the friction from the fabric brings a burning sensation to your already melting heat. It can barely be considered touching you, yet it forces your head to fall back onto the bed, your fists wringing the blankets below you.

With another breathless whimper, Lucifer's chest is heaving at the sound alone. Having you completely at his disposal and loving every moment of his touch?

Now that can bring a man to his knees. He just needs more.

“Tell me more, love.” He hooks his fingers around your underwear, just enough to slide two fingers in your entrance. You gasp, but there's barely any air to fill your lungs. He curls his fingers, just once, and he's enjoying the sight of your immediate reaction. He was convinced that your body was molded perfectly to his. Your hand fitting perfectly in his, your bodies perfectly connected when embracing, your entrance being perfectly filled with just his fingers. He adds another.

A slow curl, with all three fingers, hits your growing bundle of nerves another time, only to drag his still-curved fingers down across your clenching walls. You can barely call what comes out of your mouth next words, even if you mean for it to be his name.

While he could spend hours doing this, pumping into you quickly, only to slow and press his fingers deeply into you moments away from release, he’s hungry.

Before you can think any further, your mind truly in the clouds, a lavish lick of a serpents tongue runs up the length of your pussy. you grip the bed sheets on either side of you, arching your back away from the mattress. Even with your movements, Lucifer is eagerly following your hips, already having a desperate grip around your thighs. If you arch back, he dips his head lower. If you flinch and curl your body, he's pushing his tongue further into your entrance.

Completely at his mercy, you're left an absolute mess when he adds back those three fingers he previously tortured you with. In tandem, he works your entrance while flicking your clit, with the fork in his tongue only heightening the sensation of its tender state.

You're close. He's completely lost in the sound of you, the taste, but you're focusing hard on the twinging pleasure that heightens while you hold your own breath. it forces a myriad of heaving, hitching, moans, and whines. And after a collection of his own low growls and moans into your heat, you're left an utter mess above him.

His head tilts slightly, resting his cheek on your thigh as he cleans any of you that he may have missed. A rare occurrence that he doesn't take every last drop from you, It takes you a moment to realize he had left his position of kneeling in front you. Until the sudden clinking of a belt buckle forces your wide eyes to meet with its source. Th impressive outline of his cock forces you to bite down on your lip. Despite being a familiar sight, you're swooning at the sight of him releasing his length.

You match his hazy eyes as he falls forward, caging you in and leaving his own mess of precum to mix with your precious juices.

‘You- are incredibly frustrating.” He says in a low breathless voice. Your mind can barely process his insult before he's involuntarily grinding his hips against yours. You yelp, reaching a hand up to cover your mouth. But almost like instinct, Lucifer has reached up to take your wrist and push it to the bed, beside your head.

“L-Lucifer please, I'm still sens-”

“You're irritating.” he adds, his voice husky and his breath hot against your cheek as he lowers his head. “You're disobedient.” You are desperate to wet your suddenly dry throat, your head swarming with each buck of his hips, now sliding between your folds but never entering you. “and that only makes me love you more.”

His roller coaster of praise and repremands, are turned into heavy pants, a needy whine as he enters you, and a desperate moan into the side of your ear. 

He's so familiar, so adapt to you. And you him. But despite his unusual behaviors tonight, he's much weaker than usual. More vulnerable. Even with the upper hand, his mind is running with the thoughts and sensations of his body melting into yours, giving his all to you. He wants to give his all to you.

His overstimulating abuse leaves it difficult to focus your eyes on any one feature, but the rosy hues in his cheeks and his glowing eyes will always find you. You reach your arms up and desperately claw at the back of his vest, the material barely letting you take on a steady grip.

“L-Lucifer, I-I can't-”

“Close..” You barely hear it, the softest whisper in your ear. “I need.. you to-”

“I-I love you..! I love you, Lucifer, please~” the words fumble from your mouth thoughtlessly.

“I'm yours-” he struggles out, his speed and rhythm becoming sloppy and unmeasurable.

You tilt your head back, your body arching into him only gives him access to a deeper part of you.

“Mine.. I love you-” you squeak out. With a final press into you, you feel the relieving sensation of him finally finishing. You stay connected as he continues to grind into you, despite already being fully sheathed. Finally, Lucifer collapsing on you with a hefty whine.

“Well?” You hum softly, running your hands through his hair as he continues to steady his breath. he looks at you, with a slow blink, and a goofy grin.

“Say it back.” You said calmly.

“say what?” You yank his hair back a bit and he winces with a smile.

“If I could kill you, my love, I would.” You say with a stern expression. Your seriousness only brings a smile to his face.

“I love you, too, darling.”

-

You find yourself in your room, scrolling through your messages and rereading the text Charlie had sent one last time.. just to be sure.

We're holding a clothing donation event for new sinners and residents! There's no pressure in how much you'd like to donate, but if there's anything you don't wear, it could go to good use in someone else's hands! Or claws! (Also, if you wouldn't mind helping with mending and sewing some stuff at the event, I would really really really appreciate it!) XOXO

You let out a quiet chuckle to yourself, tossing your phone aside. You open the door to your closet, not exactly realizing until now.. it was busting at the seams.

"Alright.. let's do this then." You rummage through your mess of a wardrobe, flipping through every piece. Charlie made it a point to make it sound like you don't have to get rid of too much, but this was a perfect excuse to dump most of your unloved clothes.

A few things stop you.

Your uniform you were given at the Morningstar manor. A dark red dress with a white apron. It was barely worn after Lucifer insisted you wear something more comfortable around the house.

Another dress of yours; one of your favorites that you purposely tore across the bottom, to bring it much higher across your thighs. Something to give you some much-needed attention after getting fired.

You toss those aside, along with some hand-me-downs you received and altered when you first came to the hotel. You wore some, but you've developed a nicer wardrobe that fits you much more comfortably.

You passed a lilac-colored dress, it had a light shine to it that begged to be caressed. You remember how lovely this felt against your skin. It was what you wore during a visit with Lucifer.

"I wonder what happened to the corset.." You mutter to yourself. This one's a keeper. You move on.

Something that felt expensive passes through your fingers, and you stop to examine it more carefully.

"Woah.."

It was the gown that Lucifer gave you for the gala he invited you to. It was the same gown that drew so much attention to you.. including his. The same one that you kissed him in.. 

You felt a bit torn. It held so many great memories, except for the end of that night, of course, and it was a gift after all.

"Okay.. if it still fits, I'll keep it." You barter with yourself, before getting undressed a bit too excitedly.

It took some hassle, but twisting and turning in front of your mirror, you're in awe at the quality. And it did in fact still fit. You ran your hands along the fabric, thoroughly enjoying the quality.

"Woah."

You quickly turn, hearing the exclamation come from your door. Lucifer stands with a bouquet of flowers in hand, but it's almost immediately on the ground. In a state of pure astonishment, Lucifer's eyes were sparkling at the sight of you.

"That's the-" He weakly holds up his finger to gesture to the dress, his words failing to form any coherent thought.

You chuckle nervously, tucking your hands behind your back and fidgeting with your gloved fingers.

"I was just.. looking through my clothes for the.. uh.. Charlie was asking-" you stammer out some sort of explanation, but nothing explains why you felt the need to play dress up.

"Her donation event! Right!" Lucifer quickly responds, stepping completely inside your room and shutting the door behind him. He kicks the flowers he's already forgotten about, and quickly scoops them back up. As he approaches you, he catches sight of the numerous piles of clothing. With a quick snap, they're neatly folded and sent away into a portal, assumingly somewhere near Charlie.

"Ah, angelic magic." You hum satisfied by the now neat floor. You examine him, placing your hands on your hips with a smirk. "A bouquet of flowers? What's the occasion?"

With another display of magic, a vase appears on your vanity, which he slips the flowers into.

"Just a gesture.. of love~" He draws out his words, slipping his hands onto your waist.

Oh, he's letting the I love you get to his head, isn't he?

You respond with a quick eye roll, placing your hands on his shoulders.

"Thank you, Luci, I love them." You draw out your words to mimic his.

"You picked out a good one." He looks you up and down, his hands on your waist thoroughly exploring your sides. "I already told you how stunning you look, right?" 

"Yeah.. decades ago. It.. wouldn't hurt to hear it again, though." You mutter, a sly smile across your face. He holds you closer, his warm hands palming the small of your back. With a quick twirl, forcing a fit of laughter from you two, he stops when his eyes meet yours. "You look absolutely breathtaking."

"And stunning?" 

"And stunning." He lets out a quiet sigh, tracing his claws from the base of your shoulder to your hand, interlocking your fingers. With his other hand, he pulls you in by your waist. You only respond with a quiet giggle.

"What are you doing?" You ask as he turns you around. He starts to slowly sway you along, and you struggle for a moment to keep up with the impromptu waltz.

"Dancing. I wanted to dance with you during that Gala. I never got a chance, though." His tone makes it sound as if it were your fault.

"Probably because you were pawning Charlie off to me every 5 minutes." You glare at him, with a still-apparent smile.

He shrugs.

"Can you blame me?"

"I can, actually."

Another laugh is forced from your lips when he spins you around. As he draws you back in, you're brought flush to his chest. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and let out a breath that you've been holding in for years. Lucifer gives you another contemplating look.

"Now, the dress is pretty and all, but..."

You cock your head to the side with a soft smile. "But?"

"I think I’d prefer you in white."

♡♡♡

Haven't written smut in a hot minute :') hope it was tasty

Tag list:

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[hazbinwhoree]

Hiya ! Let me tell you first that I love your writings about Adam ! Our angel deserves some attention

I couldn't help but notice that there is a lack of hurt/comfort Adam fics 😠

Sooo I've been thinking (read this with Charlie's voice from the pilot) what about an Adam x reader arranged marriage fic ?

Like Adam is given a new wife from Heaven, he treats her really badly at the beginning but then kinda develops a soft spot for her ? Ending with the fluffiest softest smut you can make ?

Do we have a deal ? 😈

I Wanna Be Yours

Adam supposed he should be grateful, he wasn’t alone anymore, but Lilith and Eve had fucked him up so badly that he wanted nothing to do with his third wife. If he got too close, he’d fall in love, and then she’d leave him. So Adam did the opposite of getting close. He got mean.

(Name) was born yesterday. Created by God to be Adam’s third companion. She was born with pertinent information already in her brain, memories, and free will. Free will, and she still wanted nothing more than to be Adam’s wife.

He was so lonely, but he’d never admit it.

At first, Adam was just cold to her. But when that didn’t deter (Name) from trying to get close to him, he grew mean.

“I don’t want you, bitch!”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

“Piss off, I hate looking at you.”

It started wearing (Name) down. It hurt, he hurt her, constantly. She was growing to dislike him. She wished she could hate him, but she just couldn’t. It didn’t help that they lived together, though Adam had banished her to the guest room, not willing to share his king size bed.

One day, (Name) gave up. She decided she was done being verbally abused as she followed Adam around like a lovesick puppy. So that day, she didn’t follow Adam. She didn’t leave her house. In fact, she didn’t even leave her bed.

To Adam’s dismay, he was disappointed and slightly concerned when (Name) didn’t show up that day. She always followed him around. All day, every day. Adam hadn’t realized how comfortable he got with it.

When he came home that day, he peaked into her bedroom, finding her asleep. His brow furrowed, wondering why she hadn’t followed him today. Adam was going to ask, but (Name) didn’t wake up until morning.

By day four, after three days of cold silence from (Name), and her still not following him, Adam decided to go home early. He got home around noon to catch (Name) off guard, he was never home around noon.

He snuck into the house but didn’t see her anywhere downstairs. He climbed upstairs and peered into (Name)’s bedroom. Once again, that’s where he found her, still in bed.

“Okay, what the fuck,” he asked loudly, barging into her room.

(Name) jumped. When she registered Adam, she scowled. “Don’t scowl at me, bitch,” Adam spat. Something died in (Name)’s eyes and she just looked tired and sad. Adam softened.

“...Sorry.”

That got (Name)’s attention. Adam had never, ever said sorry to her before.

Adam came over and sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” (Name) was appalled. “I’ll fucking tell you what’s wrong.” She sat up.

“I was created for the sole purpose of being your wife so that you would no longer be alone. That is my entire purpose, my whole identity. And you hate me. You’re literally all I have in life and you want nothing to do with me. You weren’t even just cold, you were mean. Nasty. I wish I hated you. But I still love you, and that fucking hurts.”

Adam was quiet for once in his life. He had never really thought about the consequences of his actions. He hadn’t seen (Name) so much as person as he did an annoyance that followed him around. Now here she was, a person. A being with thoughts and feelings. A being he’d been abusing.

He reached a gentle hand towards her and she recoiled. Adam winced. “I’m sorry,” he admitted. “I really am. I thought… if I got too close, you would leave me like Lilith and Eve did.” (Name) blinked at him. “I know that’s a shitty excuse,” Adam mumbled. “I wish I could tell you how sorry I am. I was a fucking coward, in trying to prevent myself from being lonely I made you lonely.” “You did more than that,” (Name) scoffed.

Adam looked ashamed. “Yeah… I’m so sorry. I want to start over. If… if you want that. I understand if you’re done with me, I definitely deserve it.”

(Name) contemplated for a moment. “We can start over,” (Name) said eventually. “But we start slow. I don’t like or trust you right now.”

Adam nodded eagerly. “That’s fair. (Name)?”

“Yeah?”

“Just start coming with me when I go about my day again.”

(Name) did, and over the next two weeks she would accompany Adam everywhere, not follow, because he kept his stride slow so that she could keep up. He talked to her, asked questions about her, got to know her. She quickly became a soft spot for him. It took a lot to not sabotage it out of fear, but Adam managed.

Two months in, and they’d kindled a relationship so well that they had sexual tension. They had yet to act on it, neither realizing that the other wanted it as much as them.

But this was the longest Adam had gone without sex in a long time, and with his high sex drive, it was incredibly difficult. It wasn’t much longer before he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He burst into her room randomly and announced, “I think I love you and I want to fuck you.”

(Name) put down her phone, wearing nothing but short shorts and a tank top, ready for bed. “I think I love you too, and I would very much like you to fuck me,” (Name) replied after a beat of silence.

Adam wasted no time, coming up to her bedside and picking her up bridal-style. “Adam, what–” “You’ve had your own room long enough. It’s time we share a bed. And what better way to consecrate it?” He smirked.

(Name) smiled, holding onto his neck. When they entered Adam’s room, he gently laid her down on his bed. He was going to take his time with this, he’d waited for so long he was going to savor every second.

He shed his mask, and (Name) gasped. She’d never seen him without his mask before. Adam looked slightly unsure of himself. “Kiss me,” (Name) breathed. Adam stood between her legs and bent over the bed to press his lips to hers sweetly. She ran her fingers through his hair.

“You’re so pretty,” she whispered when he pulled back. Adam wanted to make a cocky comment, but decided against it for the sake of the moment. He pulled his shirt off, then undid his belt, kicking off his pants. Then he gently pulled (Name)’s tank top over her head, thrilled to finally see her bare rack.

But before he went for her chest, he pulled her shorts down and off. When they were both in their underwear, Adam picked (Name) up and threw her further on the bed. Then he climbed onto the bed and on top of her.

He connected their lips while his hands groped her chest. His tongue invaded her mouth and (Name) moaned. Adam kissed down her neck, her chest, until her reached her left tit, and latched on with his mouth. (Name) gasped as he sucked on her nipple, his hand reaching to roll her other nipple between his forefinger and thumb. (Name)’s fingers tangled in Adam’s hair.

He pulled off with a wet pop and moved to the other breast, taking it into his mouth as well. (Name) hummed sounds of affirmation as Adam gave her chest attention, sighing when he pulled back. Adam’s hand slid down her stomach and inbetween her legs and (Name) bit her lip. When Adam’s hand slipped under her panties and his fingers brushed against (Name)’s wet folds, she moaned. “You’re so wet,” Adam said lowly in her ear. “All for me.”

He entered two fingers inside of her, curling them. (Name)’s back arched a little bit. Adam added a third rather quickly, realizing briefly that her body had been made to fit with his perfectly. The thought almost made Adam sentimental.

Because of this fact he didn’t spend long fingering her. He was impatient, and he didn’t have to. She was already ready for him. He pulled her panties down and off before kneeling back to tug his boxers down. He shed those too and pressed their naked bodies together.

“I love you,” he said quietly, kissing her lips. “I’ll forever be sorry for how I was before. Let me make it up to you~”

(Name) whimpered when she felt his dick pressing at her entrance. Adam grabbed both of her hands in his, pinning them next to her head and intertwining their fingers. “Are you ready?” he asked, not sure how much longer he could wait.

(Name) nodded vigorously. Adam gently pushed his hips forward, slowly sinking into her heat. He groaned, his self-restraint waning. He bottomed out with a heavy sigh. “I love you,” he repeated. “Fuck. You're so tight.”

(Name) couldn’t reply, adjusting to Adam’s size. Once she did, she moved her hips a little bit. “Move,” she begged. Adam didn’t need to be asked twice. He slowly began to roll his hips, thrusting in and out slowly and sensually. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough, so it didn’t last long.

Adam’s hips picked up in pace and intensity. (Name) moaned everytime he drove into her. It was Adam’s new favorite sound. They were in missionary, Adam’s favorite position because he could stare at (Name) while they made love. He could drink in every little expression of pleasure on her pretty face.

(Name) squeezed the life out of Adam’s hands. Adam leaned down to suck love marks onto (Name)’s neck. (Name) threw her head back, giving him easier access while he marked her as his.

When he pulled back, he let go of one of (Name)’s hands, sneaking his now free hand down between them to rub circles around her clit with a slender finger. He relished in the look of pleasure (Name) made, jaw dropping and eyes rolling back. His hips didn’t lose their steady pace until (Name) moaned, “Faster!”

Adam began slamming into her, and with (Name)’s free hand, she clawed at his back. Every thrust hit deep and Adam timed pressure on her clit with every thrust. “Adam,” (Name) gasped. “I’m– nngh~ I’m close.”

“Fuck, me too,” Adam panted. He kept his pace steady, both of their orgasms steadily growing. (Name)’s moans became higher pitched. Adam’s groans grew more frequent.

Eventually, they were on the precipice together, calling out one another’s names as they climaxed. Adam came buried deep inside of her, and (Name) came on his dick. They froze for a moment afterwards, each trying to catch their breath. As they panted, coming down, Adam dropped his forehead against (Name)’s, staring deeply into her eyes. Watching her orgasm had made his euphoric. He kissed her softly, in contrast to the pace they’d just been going at.

“I love you,” (Name) said quietly.

Adam pulled out, collapsing on the bed next to her. “I love you too, (Name).”

[zepskies]

Every Second Counts - Part 4

Pairing: Russell Shaw x F. Reader

Summary: One date with your best friend’s brother leaves you wanting more, even though his questionable job and vagabond lifestyle make you want to guard your heart. When your brother falls into trouble, however, Russell is the one you trust to help you find him. 

AN: No cliffhangers this time, I promise. 😘

Word Count: 4K

Tags/Warnings: Perilous situations, blood and violence, some more protective Russell, angst, hurt/comfort, and fluff.~

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 4: “Mountain Man”

You were running for your life. 

Blood dripped down into your line of vision, but you swept it away from your face with a haphazard hand, along with your tears as you nearly stumbled on the path. 

A gunshot rang in your ears and hit a tree instead of your head.

Shit! You screamed and ducked, but you kept running…

After you tumbled down the hill, it was a small mercy that you didn’t break any bones when you eventually landed at the bottom. You’d stared up at the sky, winded, your back aching. Until you noticed Rick, one of Eddie’s men. He was sliding down the hill after you. 

You didn’t know what happened to your brother after he attempted to push you out of harm’s way. That thought alone gripped your heart like a vice, but you knew you couldn’t stay here on the ground either. 

You forced your body to move, whimpering at the pain and stiffness. Shakily you pushed onto your feet and slipped on dead leaves as you went. You moved your legs faster, until you were able to take off running deeper into the forest.

You gasped when your foot caught on a large rock. It sent you crashing into the ground. With your hands still bound, it made pushing yourself back up that much more difficult.

You spat out a couple of leaves. Fuck…

When Rick caught up to you, fear made you jolt into action. You wrapped your gathered hands around the rock that felled you and tossed it at him with all the strength you had. He blocked the projectile with the same hand that held his gun, like an idiot. You really couldn’t be blamed when the gun went off in his face.

He screamed, and so did you on reflex. Though his cheek and brow had been grazed by the bullet, he was lucky he still had both eyes. He blinked a bit of blood out of his left one. You scrambled back onto your feet and meant to keep running, but Rick still managed to surge forward and get a hold of your hair. 

Uttering a short scream, you grabbed his shirt and kneed him as hard as you could between the legs. You hoped you crushed his dick and balls.

“Oh, f—” He went down to the ground, sinking onto his knees as he dropped his gun. He glared up at you. “You little bitch!” 

You were panting for breath, but you didn’t wait for him to recover and grab his weapon again. 

You ran. 

You ran, even though you had no idea where you were going. You just knew that you couldn’t stay in one place. But if you couldn’t find your way around a college campus, how the hell were you supposed to navigate the damn Medicine Bow National Forest?

Along with your desperation and fear, tears kept filling your eyes whenever you thought of Charlie. 

Please, please, please…

“Goddamn, they could be anywhere,” Russell groused, as he and Colter hiked through the forest. He was, admittedly, breathing a bit harder from the trek uphill. “It’s been hours already.”

“It’s barely been an hour,” Colter reminded him. And he didn’t look winded in the least.

Bastard. Russell glanced at him, but then he focused on the horizon. The sun was finally starting to come up, which was good for them. They could see the trails more clearly.

“Remember when Dad used to make us free-climb the cliffs in Sierra?” Russell asked.

“Yeah,” Colter said. “You used to beat me every time. Wonder what happened to that guy.”

His tone was teasing. Russell shot him a look, half annoyed, and half amused.

“Yeah, well, he turned 40,” Russell replied.

Colter smiled, but both of them paused when they heard a gunshot ring out, followed by two more.

“That was close,” he said.

“Yeah,” Russell agreed, drawing his own gun. Colter did the same, and they hurried up a roaming hill that had Russell briefly peering over the side. In his mind’s eye, he had to shutter away the memory of seeing a body flung over the side in the dark and the rain. Then him looking over the edge of that cliff and recognizing his father’s twisted body.

And Colter, shouting up at him with angry, tearful, accusing eyes.

A male groan broke Russell out of his thoughts as he and his brother came up on a grim scene. Two men laid dead, and another young man with dark hair was lying prone on the ground, clutching his wounded leg. He’d been shot, though a gun also was held tightly in his own hand. He aimed it at the newcomers.

“Charlie?” Colter asked. He recognized the other man from your family photos.

Charlie blinked up at him in surprise, but not without a grim set to his jaw.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked.

Russell let out a subtle breath. Colter was relieved as well.

“I’m Colter. This is my brother, Russell,” he said. “Your sister asked for our help to find you.”

Charlie’s eyes widened. All of them slowly lowered their weapons. Russell gestured at the bodies lying yards away from him.

“I’m guessing one of those guys is Eddie Mendez?” he said.

Charlie nodded, gesturing at the man closest to him with his gun. He groaned at the agony in his right thigh. Colter quickly went to his side and began to wrap a tourniquet around his leg to stem the bleeding.

“Did the bullet go through?” Colter asked.

“I think so,” Charlie replied.

“Where’s your sister?” Russell asked, his impatience evident in his stance and the way he held his gun while scanning his surroundings. His frown deepened when he didn’t see you.

“Oh, fuck!” Charlie said, and not at the pain of Colter wrapping his leg. His eyes were wide with panic. “Rick’s after her. I clipped him, but he slipped by me.”

“Where?” Russell asked. Charlie pointed down the side of the hill.

“Down there. Headed north I think, but I’m not sure,” he said quickly. “Help her, please!”

Russell didn’t need any encouragement. He started down the hill first. 

After making sure Charlie was stable for now, Colter followed after his brother a few minutes later. 

Russell called your name as he searched through the dense trees. Sunlight was beginning to filter through their leaves in dappled color on the trail. It gave him a better view ahead.

He stopped short when he saw a splatter of blood on the ground, painting the dirt and some dead leaves. A well of unease rose in his gut.

He headed toward the sound of running water, and he soon found another cliff. Just beyond it was a waterfall, and river below. Seeing no signs of life, he pulled back and continued to call your name, and all the while, pushing down his worry.

“Russell?!”

He turned sharply to see you coming out of your hiding place—a large fallen tree. A smile started to raise his lips, but no sooner had he taken one step in your direction, when he almost got a bullet in his head for his trouble. 

“Watch out!” you yelled. Rick came out into the clearing and aimed at you next. 

“Get down!” Russell shouted. 

Without blinking, he shot Rick three times: once in the shoulder, twice in the chest. 

The man went down. He was dead before he even met the ground. 

It was then that Colter finally caught up. Russell nodded at him, but his focus was on heading for the fallen tree after he stowed his gun.

The moment he took a step over it, you popped up with a yell, ready to smack him with a tree branch. He leaned back raised up his hands in defense. 

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay! It’s just me, slugger,” he said with a grin. 

You let out a sharp sigh of relief. The branch fell from your loose fingers. As you caught your breath, your mouth trembled, and your eyes filled with tears at the sight of him. 

Russell softened. He reached for you.

“Come ‘ere,” he said. Your hands slipped into his, and he helped you over the trunk of the tree. After using his handy pocketknife to cut through the zip ties binding your wrists together, you landed right into his waiting embrace. There, you spilled hot tears into his bulletproof vest. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha,” he said. His voice was low and soothing. “You’re okay.”

You raised your head with a desperate question in your eyes.

“Charlie?” you asked.

“Charlie’s okay too,” Russell assured. His hand soothed over your tangled hair and down your back. He could feel you trembling as you rested against him and sobbed. He held you tight, safe, as he rocked you a little from side to side. His own relief was a weight off his chest. 

Colter stood by and watched with a secret smile. 

With his bare hands clawing into damp soil, Colter dug up the crate Charlie buried near the base of the waterfall. True to his word, it was filled with precious artifacts. 

“Just, please be careful,” you warned him again over his shoulder. “These are quite literally hundreds of years old.”

Before Colter could assure you, again, that he’d be careful, you actually set a hand on his shoulder and implored him to move back.

“Matter of fact, sorry, let me do this part,” you said. “I’m the only one who’s really trained to handle these. Plus, your hands are dirty.”

Colter raised a brow, but he obliged you. He glanced over at his brother. Russell just watched in amusement while you opened the crate. 

You wished you had gloves on for this, but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. You stopped just shy of touching them—a bow and arrow, three spears, and a couple of knives. Each were crafted with wood and bone, with designs carved and accented in faded red and blue.

“Wow,” you whispered. Your historian heart was singing right now. 

You made sure each artifact was intact and hadn’t sustained water damage, then you covered them back up with the lid to the crate. 

“Okay, now you can take it, thank you. This thing is heavy,” you said, with a pat on Colter’s shoulder. 

His lips played at a smile, but he accepted the responsibility of carrying the crate.

Russell rested a hand on the small of your back to subtly help you back up the hill. You couldn’t help walking closer with him, your arm brushing against his side. You glanced up at him with a smile. He matched you, then looked up ahead. 

Charlie was waiting for you all while leaning against a tree. He still looked like utter hell—cut up, bruised, bloody, and now shot in the leg. You went to his side and gently grabbed his arm. 

“God, Charlie. You sure you’re okay?” you asked. He curled an arm around your shoulders and flashed you a familiar grin. 

“Oh, yeah. I’m like a cockroach. Just keep coming back,” he said.

You had to agree with that, laughing through the spark of your tears. Russell came on his other side and shouldered most of your brother's weight off his bad leg. 

“Okay, here we go. One step at a time,” Russell said.

Slowly, painfully, Charlie managed to make it back to Colter’s truck with you and Russell supporting him. Colter brought up the rear with the artifacts in tow. 

And behind you all, the sun broke more fully across the dewy trees in a morning swathed with orange and gold.

After Colter drove you and Charlie to the hospital, he and Russell took off again soon after to do something with the three bodies hidden under a tarp in the bed of the pickup truck. The thought made you shudder, along with the fact that the Shaw brothers knew how to hide bodies.

But you supposed it was better than the alternative.

As it was, you, Colter, and Charlie had to lie to the hospital staff about how you both had earned your injuries—in a brutal mugging, where Colter was able to scare off the men that got the jump on you and Charlie.

"I never saw their faces," as he'd later told the police, while the nurses prepped him for surgery. "I just tried to protect my sister the best I could."

You backed him up on the story, even as the lie felt bitter on your tongue and made you nervous (especially when you thought of poor Dr. Feinman).

Despite that little break-in at the museum yesterday, you'd never been good at being a rule breaker. Fortunately, Colter's calmness when he gave his corroborating statement helped you. Like Russell, he was a solid, anchoring presence...if in a different way.

For the crate of relics, Colter advised Charlie to ship them back to the museum anonymously. It would be the easiest way to encourage the police to lose steam on looking for who took them in the first place. You and your brother begrudgingly agreed, even if you had a secret thought of sending the artifacts to the NMAI. Maybe you could convince Charlie to send them there instead, or to one of the local Native American tribes here in Wyoming.

Hours later, however, you were able to finally be with your brother when he came out of surgery. In that time, your own bruises and the cut above your brow had been tended to in the Emergency Department. Now, you sat by his bedside while he slept off the anesthesia. You stroked his scuffed hand on the bed.

He really was a mess, you thought, as a tear rolled down your cheek. But he was alive. That was what mattered now.

A quiet knock at the door had you looking up, and then smiling to see Russell.

“Hey,” you said quietly, and in surprise. “Everything…went well?”

Russell’s lips quirked. “Yeah, we’re all set.”

No one would be finding those bodies anytime soon. He had a buddy in Denver, Colorado who happened to be a cremator. It was only a couple hours over from Laramie. He and Colter had just gotten back from driving the bodies there.

Before Colter drove over to Dory's apartment next, both to check on her and to fill her in on everything, he'd dropped Russell off at your house so he could get his car. He hadn’t felt right about leaving you in the hospital by yourself, even if you did have your brother.

Not without saying goodbye, at least.

“You know, I need to ask his doctor a question about his post-op care,” you said, gesturing at Charlie. “Can you stay with him for a minute while I go find a nurse?”

“Sure,” Russell agreed. You smiled gratefully and touched his arm as you passed him.

When you were gone, it left a heavy silence in your wake. Russell looked over at Charlie’s sleeping form. Russell sighed and sunk down into the chair beside the bed. He rubbed his tired face with both hands.

Shit. Now that he thought about it, he could’ve just told Colter to bring Dory here. He pulled out his phone to call his sister, when a low groan caught his attention.

Aw geez. What kinda timing, Russell thought, as he realized Charlie was waking up. His eyes slowly slid open, brows furrowing at the bright lights above him, then at the man beside him.

“Hey, man,” Russell said. “You’re okay. You’re in the hospital.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Charlie said, with another groan as he tried to stretch his body. He found he couldn’t yet move his leg. As awareness blinked back into his eyes, he settled on Russell with resignation.

“Thank you,” he said. “What you did for me, for her…I sure as hell didn’t deserve it, but thank you for saving her.”

Russell shook his head. “No need. Just get better.”

“Yeah. The doc says in a few months, I’ll be able to learn how to walk again,” Charlie said.

Russell gave him a firmer look.

“No, I mean get better,” he said. “You know you nearly got your sister killed.”

Charlie’s gaze fell. His face tightened, but really, he couldn’t even be upset at the accusation. He knew it was true, and his guilt already threatened to consume him. He also knew he should be in jail for what he’d done, and what he’d facilitated for months. After what nearly happened in the past twenty-four hours, he wasn’t sure how you could ever forgive him.

“Look, I served too. I know what you’re going through, being back here,” Russell said. “It feels wrong and right, don’t it?”

After a beat, Charlie nodded. “What branch?”

“Special Ops. I hear you were a pilot, Captain.”

“Yeah, I was,” Charlie said, his eyes lowering. “Now…now I don’t know what I am.”

“You’re her brother,” Russell said. Both his tone and his gaze all but demanded that the other man look him in the eyes. “Not her father or her son, her brother. I know you’ve been struggling. But I think you already know what you need to do, and figure out who you’re gonna be today, tomorrow, and the next.”

Charlie took in those words, and tried not to chafe at them coming from a near stranger. He knew, deep down, that all of it was right.

You came in a moment later with two cups of coffee. You brightened with a gasp when you saw that Charlie was awake.

“Hey.” He found a smile for you. You gave Russell the coffee you’d brought for him, but you quickly set yours down on the rolling tray so you could sit beside your brother.

Russell stepped out to give you two some privacy. You thanked him again and watched him go. Then, you turned back to Charlie with a tearful smile.

“How’re you feeling?” you asked.

“Have I said how much I love morphine?” Charlie remarked.

You rolled your eyes and took his hand in yours. “Yeah, how can I forget your thing for hard drugs.”

That hit sharper than a mere joke. His eyes fell away from yours. You sighed and bit your lip.

“I’m sorry,” you said. Charlie shook his head and covered your hand with his.

“No, I’m sorry. For everything I’ve put you through. And I don’t just mean today,” he said. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

“All that matters is that you’re here, and you’re going to be fine,” you said. “I’ve already put together a list of what you’re going to need when we bring you home—”

Charlie stopped you with a squeeze of your hand.

“I’m not going home just yet,” he said.

“Well, no, not until they discharge you, but—”

Again, he gently cut you off. “You were right. I need treatment, and not just for this damn leg.”

He swept a hand through his hair and sighed.

“When they let me out of here, I’m going back to rehab,” he said. “After that, we’ll see.”

 Tears stung in your eyes…but you nodded in relief. You held both of his hands then.

“You’re not doing this alone,” you told him. “I’ll be with you, every step.”

 Charlie let out a self-deprecating chuckle. He felt he didn’t deserve that, but he smiled at you.

“I know. You’ll be nagging me in my head, even when you’re not there,” he said. You smirked and brushed his greasy hair away from his face.

“Damn straight,” you replied. “I’ve finally become Mom.”

Charlie shook his head in amusement, but he leveled you with a pointed finger.

“But for now, you need to go home and get some rest,” he said.

You reluctantly agreed with that too. After a full twenty-four hours without sleep, you realized that you were exhausted. You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you,” you said. “I’ll come back to see you tomorrow.”

“Good. Love you too,” said Charlie. His eyelids were starting to droop from the pain medication, but he forced himself to stay awake for a little while longer. He even helped you back onto your feet with a guiding hand on your back. “Wait, is someone staying with you tonight? I don’t want you to be alone.”

You grabbed up your purse. “Don’t worry. I think I’ve got that covered.”

Your brother quirked a suspicious smile at the look on your face. The one you tried to hide from him when you noticed his scrutiny.

“What, is it one of those guys who helped us?” he asked. “Is it the blonde one—Ken doll? Or the mountain man?”

Of course he knew their names, but he just wanted to mess with you. He could already see you getting flustered while you twisted the strap of your purse between your fingers and glanced at the door.

 “What? No! Just go to sleep. Take advantage of the morphine while you’ve got it,” you said. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Dory.”

Charlie leveled you with a look. “Mhmm.”

He pulled the blanket higher on his chest and watched you leave. When the door swung open, he saw Russell leaning against the wall, waiting for you. 

Charlie huffed. He should’ve known. 

Okay, mountain man.  

That was the last thought he had before he drifted off.

You left your brother’s room just about overwhelmed with a maelstrom of emotions. However, the moment you saw Russell waiting for you, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, it all distilled into one simple thing. 

He met your gaze and started to smile. 

You smiled back, and you went to him. 

You reached up to frame his face with both hands, and you searched for something in his eyes. They were tinged with surprise, but he waited on you, wondering what you were about to do. 

When you thought you found what you were looking for, you raised up on your toes and pressed your lips to his.

His hands unconsciously found your waist and held you to him. He met your lips in kind, and even deepened the connection. Your fingers slipped into his hair, lightly dragging your nails against his scalp. He hummed in pleasure. 

When your lips eventually parted from his, it was still too soon, he thought. Russell stared down at you with a question in his eyes—one he couldn’t help voicing.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “Thank you for everything.”

Ah… Russell’s smile evened out and faded slightly. 

So that was just a gesture of gratitude. He hoped you didn’t decide to thank Colter that way. 

“You don’t need to thank me,” Russell said. “I’m glad Charlie’s all right.”

“No, I do need to. So thank you,” you said. Your hands drifted down his chest, plucking at the edge of his jacket. 

“I don’t really want to be alone today, to be honest,” you admitted. “Would you…want to…keep me company for a while? You could rest up at my place.”

Russell’s brows raised. His lips curved. 

“Well, sure. I could do that. Your couch seemed pretty comfortable,” he said. 

“You don’t have to stay on the couch,” you replied. 

And then, Russell finally read your meaning. He saw it in your eyes, staring up at him through your lashes.

Maybe that kiss was exactly what he thought it meant. His smile became more genuine.

“Well, okay,” he said eventually. He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home then.”

You leaned against his side and gave him a lazy salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

He shook his head. His smile deepened into a grin.  

“You’re a little delirious, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Probably need some water,” you said with a giggle. “And God, I’m starving.”

Russell laid a gentle kiss to the side of your head that wasn’t bruised.

“All right, we’ll take care of that too,” he said.

“You know what I’m craving?” you asked. He looked down at you questioningly, and again he found your smile.

“Sriracha fries,” you said.

Russell busted out laughing at that. He fist-pumped the air with his free hand. 

“Hell, yeah.” 

For that, and much more, he would count today as a win. 

AN: There we go! A nice fluffy finish for you. How did you like how Charlie's arc wrapped up, along with her reunion with Russell? 💜

But just wait. We're not quite done yet...

Next Time:

He took in your hesitant face, then the pretty dress you had on. The color matched your eyes. Soulful eyes.

He smiled when you let him see them again.

“Can you see the bruises? I think I covered them up well enough,” you said. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror again, touching your jaw carefully. 

Russell’s hand raised to find your cheek, earning your attention with wider eyes. His thumb swept across your skin as you started to blush.

“You’re beautiful,” he said with a smile. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Your face warmed further, despite your smile. 

“Yeah, the makeup helps,” you quipped. 

“I didn’t say anything about makeup,” he replied. Though he grinned and made a show of looking closer at your face. “Although, have your lashes always been that damn long?”

You laughed, but he didn’t let go of you.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 5 (Finale!)

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[uncouth-the-fifth]

good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

The meta text of Vaggie hating when people don't use her name or try calling her by another one THEY think she should use, bc they think her name is too vulgar or demeaning or too silly not to joke about -> and then parts of the fandom doing the same thing, is honestly really hitting home in a queer way

here's a character who we know wants people to use her chosen name.

we know she does because she corrects Adam to his face "Actually, it's pronounced Vaggie" drawing a hard line of NO between the old name he gave her with that soft G and the one her girlfriend uses for her now

her exasperation even during the battle, answering Pentious's call out of Vaggatha but still also tiredly pointing out "Not my name", and

ironically. The second miss-naming hurts me more than the first

the Adam thing makes me hate the guy on a personal level, with his stupid smug little "Hmmmmmm- no. Anyway-" saying Vaggie isn't ALLOWED to name herself something new as if he has any claim over her, as if her name has anything to do with him after he abandoned her

But the Pentious thing almost hurts worse for how well meant and casual it is. How familiar that is.

Here it's coming from a friend and the misnaming is a sign of affection from him, a show of respect. He's not calling her the purple female anymore. This is Pentious and his tick of getting polite and formal when addressing people he likes, him snapping his earnest salutes, him as we saw earlier that episode with his shy "Miss Bomb" towards Cherri.

And the way Vaggie just kinda rolls her eye and takes it from him while still clearly not liking it...

She used to wear a uniform that made her almost identical to the other Exorcists around her, she was given her old name by the man in charge of her, a name based on how useful to him she was, she's still got all that soldier stuff marching through her head making her grab for her spear and leaving her with no idea how to get people to bond other than throwing them bodily into a warzone

It just makes sense that the woman she's in a long term happy relationship with be so normal about her chosen 'vulgar' and 'inappropriate' name

Being together that long means Charlie probably knows this specific frustration her girlfriend has and cares enough about her to just say "Vaggie" like its nothing. Or maybe she just thinks, duh, of course she'll use the name Vaggie tells her to use

Maybe Charlie being that kinda person is part of what Vaggie loves about her in the first place. The amount of trust Charlie places in people, just by default

Because there could be good and bad reasons Vaggie's using a version of her old name after leaving that life behind

She could be doing it to remind herself of the shit person she was and feels she has to still make up for being, it could be tied to her self imposed new life purpose of helping make Charlie's dreams come true, it could be Vaggie keeping part of something she hates (herself) so she can feel a bit of "deserved" pain over it even when she was too scared to admit her past to anyone else- a sneaky way to always be reminded of it by the new people in her new life anyway

but that's her choice. People are allowed to make bad decisions for themselves

there's that ethos of the whole hotel and redemption plan again, Charlie's dreams and ideals swinging back into action even when Charlie maybe doesn't know it

what's the idea of redemption or personal change other than accepting that people CAN make choices for themselves? They can even make shitty ones, and that's not a reason to drop them forever or take the choice away like they don't deserve it anymore

What's the permanent extermination of souls other than saying they forever lost the right to say what happens to themselves?

a gay woman is calling herself after vag while switching out her soldier gear to wear miniskirts and giant as fuck hair bow ribbons while kissing and cuddling her girlfriend. Maybe it's cringe. Maybe it's camp. Even if Vaggie obviously isn't meant to be literally trans, it's that deliberate choice thing again, a kinda switcheroo from Adam naming her Vagina just bc it's something that he likes for how it makes him feel good, to Vaggie saying no this is MY thing now.

The Vagina to Vaggie thing is the difference between putting a name on someone else verses taking it for your own.

and Charlie affirms that choice, that right of Vaggie to be called the name she choses, no matter WHAT it sounds like or how awkward it makes some people feel

like, if someone in real life told you their name was Vaggie, would you use their name for them?

Would you accept feeling a bit weird for their sake?

Or would you do what happens so much in real life, when people who care still think they know better or feel like someone being who they are infringes too much on their own sense of comfort or even on that person's own safety, and with all the good intentions and love in the world, someone hurts someone else without understanding that they're evening doing it.

Like Pentious

Who is really and truly Vaggie's friend. The guy she got off to a rough start with but ends up rooting for, shoving her gf out of the room so he can talk to his own crush in peace. He dies to try protecting his friends, including her, and she misses him when he's gone

and he still thought he was doing a nice thing by calling her the more 'normal' sounding "Vagatha". Either because he assumed Vaggie couldn't really be her full name, or thought she deserved better

Charlie doesn't think Vaggie needs a better name

Charlie says her name all the time like it's her favorite word ever, if only because it belongs to the woman she loves

i feel a lot of things about that.

[bambiesfics]

𝐄. 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♥️’𝐬 𝐌*𝐥𝐟𝐬 ╰₊✧ ﾟ

Part Two — [FIND PART ONE HERE]

ˎˊ˗ SYNOPSIS: You’re a yummy, soft around the edges older lady, with a post-partum body that jiggles in the most delicious ways. Ellie simply can’t get ahold of herself, every time she sees you, her pupils turn into pretty pink hearts, and her clit thumps in rhythm with her beating heart.

ˎˊ˗ A/N: This is a re-upload of my series fic! Part one is already written. But this can be read as a stand-alone!

𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃. She was slammed with mental images of your puffy nipples, straining against that thin pink tank top, or the chubby crease of your ass, spilling out just past the hem of your denim shorts, how the back stitching was digging itself up into the crevice of your……

She shoved the heels of her palms into her eyes and bit her bottom lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and teeth with a corrosive warmth. Her bottom lip was red, swollen and had teeth shaped impressions.

What the fuck was she doing here? What the actual fuck did she think she was doing sitting on the curb of the house right next to yours, like some teenage dirtbag? She rolled her eyes. Folding her boney knees up to her chest, to softly blow cold air on them.

It was the only thing that helped the pain, after the faint cuts and scrapes slashed across itched and burned. Each crusted over gash reminded Ellie of how stupid she looked tripping off her skateboard like some fucking peon, 2 hours earlier. And now she was here, decompressing on your goddamn doorway.

As she brushed some of the gravel off her shorts, she was assaulted with the violently embarrassing memories from the skate park. There was no way those assholes at the ramp were going to see her cry, but she wanted to, so bad. Her knees hurt like a motherfucker after she fucked up the landing on her wheelie, and she paid for it with a mouth full of dirt and knees slashed by rocks. Ellie would eat shit like a champ, every fucking time. No matter how bad it hurts.

She wasn’t a kid.

But she sure felt like one now that she was sitting here, ankles crossed and hugging her knees. Near your crib instead of back home, at hers, where she should’ve been. She wanted to tell herself it’s because yours was closer. But it wasn’t, she knew it wasn’t. And yet she was still comforted by the thought.

Her head swung in the direction of your home.

“Nother’ fucking neighbour.”

It was the 5th time it had happened in the past hour. Ellie was tired of cracking her neck to the side, trying to see which person opened their door to leave all for it to be fucking neighbour. And like the previous 4 times it had happened, it was typically some suburban asshole. Like a random dad taking out the trash in Birkenstocks. Likely a lazy fuck who waited for his wife to nag him to get it done. Or it was some brat taking their dog ‘Charlie’ or ‘Bella’ or fucking ‘Fido’ out to take a fat shit on the front lawn.

And again, not one of those people were you.

This is why Ellie’s hedonistic inclination to avoid addressing her feelings head on, but instead choosing to shroud them in convenient excuse after convenient excuse was ultimately, destructive. Because now, she was taking it out on random neighbors and you for ‘gatekeeping yourself’ away from her, while she waited. Probably doing some old lady shit right now like Pilates.

She groaned aloud.

‘Gatekeeping yourself’ isn’t even a fucking thing. Ellie was just in pain, hurt and angered; humiliated. She was mad, at no one in particular. But maybe, herself.

She wiped the fat tear that rested on the apple of her pink cheeks and blew air into her cupped palms. Blowing away the little bits of sediment and gravel that were still stuck there. She repeated the action on her knees, bracing the sharp sting.

She sniffled and leapt to her feet, ignoring the angry rage of pain in her knees, before she dropped the skateboard onto the gravel. Her foot slid on, ready to push off and just fuck off from this part of your neighborhood.

“Ellie!”

“Ellie!”

“Ellie is that you?”

Ellie stopped to stomp on the back of the deck and flip the board up into her hand. You were there peeking from behind the door, holding open the heavy wood with the side of your plush body. You sized her up as recognition bloomed on your face.

God is real.

If there was ever a time Ellie flirted with agnosticism, she was repenting for it while staring at you. Because at that very moment, God was real. Especially because Ellie knew she looked like a grimey piece of shit. She knew she was a runny, mascara-stained mess, with fucked up knees and fucked up posture. And yet you’re here. Supple, mature and womanly as ever looking at her like she’s some little doll. God, why were you waving her over? Stop. Stop crooking your finger like that, please, before she goons in her cargo shorts.

“H-hi I was just skating through the neighborhood and—.”

“Ellie, are you okay? How did that happen? You’re covered in cuts!”

“I’m fine, on god, I just..I…fucked up a trick. got a bunch of these stupid scrapes to show for it” She rubbed the back of her head, sheepish.

“Ellie, you should be more careful next time. Come ere.’”

Your sad pout made her stand straighter.

She wanted to fuck that pout off your face. Or maybe fuck it on your face. Like how sometimes, when girls are fuzzy brained during a painful but good pounding, they get this little look on their face. It’s all sad and pouty and shit.

What she would give for you to have that sad and pouty expression while she carved her cock in you. Choking out moans like…

“Ellie agh slow down!” or “Ellie m’ so full inside. You’re stretching me thin.” or better yet an “Ellie I’m so sore from last night. Be more careful next time..”

She could imagine the last one so vividly she nearly shuddered.

If it wasn’t obvious before, Ellie was a supreme pain slut.

She blinked the thoughts away, and brought her skateboard in front of her crotch. Not that she could get a boner, but it was reflexive at this point. Something she’d picked up from her friends when they would brick up everytime a pretty girl & her friends came to the park.

You closed the distance between you two and wrapped a hand around her fragile wrist to pulled her inside. Ushering her to the nearest kitchen stool to comfortably treat the painful

cuts and scrapes.

A little part of Ellie wondered if you would put your tits in her mouth for her to suckle on, if she whined hard enough for it. You were such a natural at being motherly, doting and worried. You were here in mid-day august, about to tend to some skaters girl’s dumb boo boos. While you probably had better things to do, like watch an episode of modern family, or prep dinner for your family.

She chuckled to herself. Then squeezed her thighs together. Slipping into a fantasy of you supporting her head, as she greedily nursed and suckled from you. Sucking out of each tit until both nipples grew shiny with her saliva and puffy from her greedy suction.

She blinked rapidly to pull herself from the fantasy, and deflated in the stool.

God, what a stupid fucking delusion.

She mewled in the base of her throat as you came back from the kitchen, with a first aid kit in tow. You settled between her knees, gripping the crook of one knee to gently dab pats of alcohol. She winced and grit her teeth, breathing through the fire of the sting. But her pink face and shiny eyes betrayed her weak facade, and your heart ached. Poor baby girl, all you could do was whisper earnest sorry’s in between each dab.

As you nearly finished bandaging the raw skin, you peered up at her, seeing the way her brows knitted up and how she trapped her bottom lip beneath her teeth. Maybe it was the innate motherly instinct, but you felt the urge to kiss the little forehead wrinkles away, and stroke her hair until she was less tense. Despite your nerves, you cleared your throat. “Ellie what were you really doing out there all alone, hmm?”

Her cheeks reddened like a hasbro toy truck. Flaming fucking red, like how Jesse loved to describe it.

“I was at the skatepark with some twink—guys… I usually shred with. But I got winded so I took a rest top…on your lawn.”

“A rest stop huh?” You teased.

The excuse sounded like cheap shit even to her own ears but it was the best thing she could come up with in the moment, with the way you looked so worried. She was just grateful you didn’t notice her about to call her bestfriend a twink. Ellie didn’t want a lecture about bigotry from you, because judging by how clueless you’d been when it came to her attraction to you. That guaranteed you were also clueless about her being a raging dyke.

Ellie whistled “So uh..where’s your kid?”

“At grandma’s.”

Vague. She thought.

“My mother said she’d been wanting to babysit for a while now. So I decided to give myself a little time alone to enjoy the time being, I suppose.”

“I suppose?” God you were a

relic. No one born after the 2000’s speaks like that.

She mused.

“Ah, that’s so hot.” Ellie muttered, seconds before realization hit her and a deeper blush bloomed wildfire on her face. It was becoming increasingly humiliating to speak to older adults like they were her little fruitcake punk friends. You were a proper woman, not a scumbag. Ellie knew her lexicon needed a significant change if she hoped you’d ever take her seriously.

You laughed at her silliness, and patted her knee before walking away to store the first aid kit back in the kitchen. With each resounding thud of your footsteps

Ellie couldn’t help but drink in the way the ripple of your robe outlined your ass. The way the milky, thin fabric practically outlined the dark line that split both globes right in the…

She put her knuckle between her teeth and bit down. God she needed to leave.

You looked back to smile at her. But she was doing it again, not meeting your eyes. Matter of fact her gaze was somewhere else, and your stomach flipped because of it. Her bangs were curled beautifully around her face, and her lips were parted open, she wheezed each breath.

You reached up into the cabinet, to gently place the kit back, and dropped back onto the balls of your feet. Your buttcheeks jiggled with the drop. And you saw her bury a cough into her hand from your peripheral vision. Ellie crossed her ankles together and clamped them there.

Picking up the tray of ginger snap cookies you’d laid out for guests, you walked back towards her. Holding them out for her to take home. Ellie didn’t meet your eyes. Or your face. She pointedly looked at the letter magnets on the fridge.

She blinked rapidly. “Can I just…can I just use your bathroom really quick?”

“Yeah of course, it’s just up those stairs behind you. First door on your left.”

Ellie gave a wobbly attempt at a smile and scrambled off the seat. She stomped two steps at a time up the stairs, a habit she formed when she was a younger teen, she couldn’t break.

She flicked the lights on and took note of the spa-like ambience in your bathroom. The soft shell coloring and warm lighting. The bathroom smelled like you, like your clothes whenever she got real close to you.

She also wondered if you smelled like that down there too. If the scent of your body wash lingered on the inner lips of your vulva. If she split the lips apart, would she get hit with a whiff of your natural musk? Or the floral scent of peonies? She really needed to know.

She also knew she was a pervert.

But she couldn’t help it, you don’t even know how desirable you are, and you weren’t even trying. You were some sweet milf in an average ass fuck suburban neighbourhood, who was making a teen girl go fucking balls-to-the-walls insane to breed you.

Locking the bathroom door, Ellie shoved her low rise cargo shorts and boxers down her hips and dipped two fingers to play in her wetness. She shoved her right finger into her mouth to stimulate the prod of a nipple into her mouth as she ghosted a hesitant left finger over the supple skin of her pussy lips. Teasing the pleasure she was about to feel once she just split them open and rubbed the bundled nub. She sucked a whistling breath through her teeth and tipped her head back against the wall. It lolled to the side.

That’s when she saw it.

Lacy, bunched up, and barely enough fabric to even floss teeth with, was the lavender thong you left neglected in the corner of the bathroom floor. Probably from the shower you freshly took before you met her outside.

She shouldn’t.

She shouldn’t.

But fuck, she did.

Ellie scrambled for your underwear and pulled it apart. Searching for the spot she wanted most. The light reflected against the gentle shininess in the crotch, and she ran the pads of her fingers gently against the crotch, feeling the clear stickiness still left over from earlier.

Stuffing it against her nose she did the very thing that would probably get her put on some type of sex offender registry if you ever found out.

Ellie took a big sniff, and then another, and then another, and then several more until she was high on your scent. The sound in the bathroom was disgustingly wet as Ellie rubbed and slapped her clit over and over. Inching her fingers down to her hole to shallowly thrust and collect some slick before dragging them up again to add slipperiness along her slit. Confined within the walls of your small bathroom were the wet and messy sounds of a girl, getting herself off to your scent. And it confirmed her hopes, this was all your own scent, natural and musky.

Your underwear was permanently pressed up against her caramel freckled nose as she inhaled. She picked up her pace, going from rubbing over her wet clit to tapping and lightly pinching it.

Ellie was a pain slut.

Ellie kept up her feverish actions. And let the degenerate fantasy of rimming your asshole, licking the sweat off of the hole, on her knees, while you prepared some mid-day snacks, tip her gaping pussy hole to orgasm.

“Mommy play with me.” she whimpered pathetically.

God she was twisted.

She came all over her inner thighs. And pearlescent cum rolled down in droplets towards the porcelain of your toilet.

Using your toilet paper, she hastily cleaned herself and pulled her boxers back up.

The mental debate didn’t last any longer than 5 seconds before she shoved your panties into her back pocket and washed her hands. There was no point in her entertaining otherwise, she knew she was a degenerate.

Ellie ran straight down the stairs, the acrid feel of humiliation scratching up the back of her throat and making her head hot. She selfishly snatched a cookie off the flower dessert tray and kicked her deck into her hand.

“Ellie! Wait I got you a snack to take ho-“

She ran out the door and slammed the door aggressively. The glass pane in the window of the door shook for several seconds.

She was erratic.

But then the same door burst open again, and the antsy brunette ran back inside, stomped towards you and smashed her lips against yours. Slotting her lips inside yours and sucking your bottom lip into her mouth. Her hands came up nervously to grip the fat of your ass. Letting some spill between her spindly fingers. Massaging it.

Ellie kissed like a horny boy. When she pulled back, you wobbled into her. She caught you around the waist and let your heaving chests sync together.

But as if she gained sudden consciousness, an awareness of what the fuck she was doing, her eyes expanded wide, and her back went ramrod straight.

She took several steps back and ushered out “Why did I just fucking?—Oh God.”

She ran. She ran so fucking fast she forget she even had the skateboard in her hand. And pounded canvas sneaker to gravel all the way home.

Ellie didn’t know what type of disorder she developed that made her mind blank out, sexually assaulting hot milfs because she couldn’t mitigate a crush on a woman to save her life. But she needed to google a local psychiatrist's office and see how long the waitlist was.

Your mental state on the other hand? Yeah you were left speechless by the brash behavior of the little tomboy. Her aggression, perverted looks and obviously inappropriate feelings towards you left you breathless and reeling.

It could’ve been because it was technically legal, that Ellie thought it appropriate to attempt that sudden kiss. But that clearly didn’t mean it was a sound decision to encourage any kind of relationship. Jesus, did the girl think she was in a porno or something? That you were going to invite her upstairs and screw her brains out, hide her in the closet when your “husband” came back home too early?

There were a million and one thoughts going through your head. Yet every time you tried to plan an appropriate way to address what had happened, your mind was drawing nothing but blanks. And it followed you like that, all the way into the evening. Long after Ellie had ran out, long after you’d said goodnight to your toddler on the phone. And long after the sun had set, after the street lights turned on.

In the thick of the night, you shoved your favorite mini bullet deep until it was snuggled between your sticky pussy lips, warmed by the hug. You’d been vigorously searching for porn videos like “brunette x milf lesbian porn.” And “younger girl x milf lesbian porn.”

The vibrator buzzed on top of your clit, slinging pleasure up your spine while you humped against it. You rolled a chubby nipple between your fingers, and pulled at your tit so hard your nipple ached painfully.

“Nnngnnh” you had to squeeze your hole over and over.

You shakily clicked on a video, a bedroom scene where the babysitter pervertedly creeped on the mother as she undressed, and got off to it. You had an urge to cry, mounted by pleasure. You moaned a sob “Ell-lie.”

A rivulet of drool slipped out from your gaping lips and pooled at the sheets. You watched the brunette pervert turn the milf into a begging slut, pleading to not be fucked like a little whore. And the young one fucked her agressively anyway. Your head was fuzzy. You’d never been so turned on by a video.

You replaced the face of every scene with the brunette with the face of Ellie. With her freckles, plump lips and her tattooed arm.

You just closed your eyes and let the video tip you to a full body orgasm. Your hole was gaping and sucking in air, contracting around nothing for most of the night. Hungry to have some sweaty little girl plug them up with her tongue, or her fingers. For her to stretch the skin there around something, until it was thin. You slept the whole night as your hole gulped in air in search of something to plug it with.

You were going to find that little runt. Drag her back there and have a conversation with her about forcing a kiss on older women, then leaving her to deal with it in a puddle of their own slick.

-fin-

Requested Taglist: @elliewilliamsgf69 , @thesevi0lentdelights , @aouiaa , @endureher , @dangthatsareallyreallylongname5 , @elsbbg , @emilieebabyy , @seattlesellie , @coeurify , @elliesflower

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Protagonists as Villains

As requested by @idontknowanametouse :)

Let's talk about what Cosmere protagonists would be like if they decided to play for Team Evil!

[Spoilers for book series mentioned in titles--but no Wind and Truth spoilers included]

1. Kaladin [Stormlight Archive]

What turns him evil: I think Kaladin could honestly go down a Moash road, where he decides to take justice into his own hands and punish people who have hurt him, his friends, or What's Right.

What he'd be like: Abso-storming-lutely terrifying. Imagine a Pursuer-esque figure, but it's Kaladin coming to kill you. I mean, you'd die. He once ripped a guy's head off by lashing it to the floor. He never loses a fight. He wouldn't sneak up on you assassin-style, either. He's blowing the front door off its hinges and entering like a glowing Angel of Vengeance to MURDER you.

2. Vin [Mistborn Era 1]

What turns her evil: I can see a few possibilities: like she does take up the power in the Well of Ascension and becomes the new Lord Ruler, or Zane is just a lot more persuasive than he is in the original. But I'm gonna go with "Ruin gets to her so completely that she becomes his agent."

What she'd be like: Vin already has some...villain-esque actions in the original, like when she pretty much slaughters an entire Keep with Zane. But always in the original she was doing it to protect, and she had friends to give her moral and emotional support. But if she was Ruin's, then she really would be a Natural Disaster Made Flesh, bringing Utter Destruction and Ruin to the whole world. Like, she's taking down whole cities single-handedly.

3. Shallan [Stormlight Archive]

What turns her evil: Listen, Shallan already kills a lot of people. We know this, and we still love her. But perhaps she gets a little too into killing people and just goes straight serial killer.

What she'd be like: You ever seen Hannibal? I'm seeing the most beautifully artistic but horribly deranged Murder Sculptures. You know, where she's killed someone and but then turned their corpse into Art.

4. Tress [Tress of the Emerald Sea]

What turns her evil: It's hard to imagine Tress being evil, tbh...but, I mean, she does sell Crow into slavery to avoid the same fate, so there's something there. I'm gonna say that either the Sorceress does kill Charlie or Tress believes that he's dead, and she turns totally to the dark side.

What she'd be like: She already plays with hugely destructive powers and captains a Pirate Ship--plus her crew is actually loyal to her. She'd be what Crow wanted to be.

5. Yumi [Yumi and the Nightmare Painter]

What turns her evil: I mean...Yumi faced religious abuse for like thousands and thousands of years. She took it pretty well, all things considered, when she found out. Imagine if she didn't...

What she'd be like: Yumi is, like, the most invested being in the Cosmere. She's nigh unkillable. And she likes to stack things.... In this case, mountains upon mountains... of skulls.

6. Adolin [Stormlight Archive]

What turns him evil: I think Adolin could break from the combination of (a) finding out his father burned his mother alive and (b) killing Sadeas with virtually no consequences. Maybe he figures that if his dad can do all that and still be a beloved political figure, then he might as well do whatever he wants too.

What he'd be like: Adolin is great with people. As a protagonist, this makes him the sort of guy who makes friends easily, remembers everyone's name, and wins over even people determined to dislike him. Evil Adolin takes those skills but goes straight manipulator. He's winning people's trust only to poison them with lies, turn them against each other, make them think he's the only one they can trust. And if manipulation doesn't work, well, he can always challenge you to a duel...in a dark hallway with nobody around...

7. Sarene [Elantris]

What turns her evil: She just gets tired of not being in charge, considering that she's smarter and more strategic and just better than the men actually in charge...

What she'd be like: Honestly, Sarene would be a fantastic Evil Vizier, the real power behind the throne who is actually controlling everything for her own evil whims. I can see her doing it to Iadon, but that's almost too easy. I know in canon they love each other and are actually good 'n' all, but imagine her controlling Raoden from the shadows and tell me it's not kinda cool...

8. Marasi [Mistborn Era 2]

What turns her evil: She gets the Bands of Mourning...and decides she's never gonna give them up.

What she'd be like: Ultimate Power Marasi would decide that SHE knows what will keep a society happy and healthy, and that's her control. I see her creating a terrible police state where everyone's actions are very tightly controlled and every infraction is punished...but only because she wants what's best for you, you know?

9. Jasnah [Stormlight Archive]

What turns her evil: I mean, remember Jasnah's Philosophy Lesson to Shallan where she baited out some robbers and then murdered them in Cold Blood since they were hurting people and no one else would do anything about it? Now imagine that Jasnah takes it upon herself to fix all societal problems through whatever means are necessary...

What she'd be like: Jasnah could be a sort of Vigilante, who makes sure that "bad people" and "political problems" are dealt with swiftly and murderously. Like imagine the Urithiru coalition of monarchs, only Jasnah's is gonna assassinate you and replace you with a puppet if you're not persuaded by her arguments.

10. Spook [Mistborn Era 1 / Secret History]

What turns him evil: I mean, Spook had a lot of voices talking to him--first Ruin, pretending to be Kelsier, and then Actually Kelsier. And the voices were always pretty darn pro hemalurgy. I'm not 100% sure Spook wasn't evil by the time he was in charge...

What he'd be like: Spook suggests in his book that old people should let themselves be killed via hemalurgy to make sure their powers get passed on. Think that, only it's not a suggestion and it's not just old people and oh my god Scadrial is Hemalurgy Power Planet now.

11. Navani [Stormlight Archive]

What turns her evil: She just gets lost in the sauce, the "sauce" in this case being Scientific Advancement and Discovery.

What she's like: I see her as an Evil Scientist who is simply making terrible weapons of mass destruction more or less because she can...and no longer worrying about the consequences.

12. Ulaam [Tress of the Emerald Sea]

What turns him evil: Listen, he TRIED asking people politely for their organs and limbs after they died, and NOBODY ever said yes!

What he's like: Let's just say he got tired of waiting. And asking.

[sleepingdeath-light]

lashing out at younger sibling figure reader hcs ; angel dust

requested by ; anonymous (13/12/22)

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; angel dust

outline ; “Would you be willing to write a light angst request?

(If yes, keep reading, If not, then ignore or delete this ask ^^)

Platonic!Angel Dust x fem!13 y/o!reader,

In wich the reader has very bad trust issues (because, she is in hell ¿Who WOULDN'T have trust issues there?) but somehow managed to form a strong fraternal bond with Angel.Ç

Or that's until one day Angel comes pretty bruised up to the Hotel thanks to Valentino and when reader tries to help him he snaps and yells at her/throw something her way paralizying the reader in her tracks and then she just starts taking step backs with her scared expresion trying to get away from Angel because he scared her???

And when he tries to reach out for her to reassure her it was just a reflex action the reader runs away from him practically crying because she thought he was going to hurt her???”

warning(s) ; canon typical violence, referenced (canon-typical) sexual abuse and sexual exploitation, implied child abuse

note ; this request actually confused me a little bit so the content below the cut might not be a 1-to-1 match for what the anon intended — also shaky characterisation as the show technically isn’t even out yet…

when you first met you’d been so alone and afraid, freshly dead and freshly freed of the horrors you’d faced in your short life only to be faced with a new sort of hell

body new and changed and not fully your own but still yours as you regained control of your limbs — dead heart thumping, aching lungs burning for the pungent hell air, legs and arms trembling, new eyes watery and blurred as you stumbled and fell and stumbled some more

sobbing and scared and alone until you caught sight of a limousine and a figure that would become the most important person in your life

angel was curt and uncertain when he noticed you, panicking and stumbling over his words as he slowly approached you and helped you to your feet — talking you down from your fears as he helped you adjust to your new body

‘one step at a time, kid, there we go,’

‘you’re okay, it’s alright,’

‘shit… you look so young,’

‘take my hand — any of them, just pick — and i’ll help you up,’

‘left, right, left, right, there you go,’

his words were encouraging and his voice was unusually soft and once you finally got the hang of walking you didn’t let go of his hand and the two of you stood on that street corner and spoke

you asked him who he was and where you were — he sighed and answered and held you as you cried, his fluff comforting and soft as he hugged you

he asked you who you were and your age and you answered, sobs getting louder as you realised what had happened and his hold on you got even tighter

he told you to wait and promised to take care of you whilst he dealt with his last client — making you sit down somewhere safe in the interim until he could come and collect you properly

then, once he was done, he took you back to the hotel with him and made the others promise to look after you — to not hurt you

and once he told them your age you swore that the room got a lot heavier

but they let you stay, putting you up in the room across from angel’s since he seemed to be the only one you really trusted

(being cautious about talking to the others and fearfully refusing any help offered by nifty or charlie — which broke their hearts but they left you be)

and things stayed that way for a while: living in the hotel, gradually starting to trust the others (very gradually), and getting closer to angel — who you’d started to refer to as your big brother

(which he adored and would return in kind — he felt good being able to take care of someone else, honestly, and you reminded him a bit of his sister, how she was when they were alive anyway… he hadn’t seen her in decades)

it was the most peaceful time of your life (afterlife?) and you were so grateful for having been able to find something so stable in somewhere like hell — until it all came crashing down after seven blissful months

until angel came back to the hotel after being out of contact for a week, covered in bruises and blood and cuts and black eyes as far as you could do

unable to walk without aid and stumbling with each step like a new born or a drunk

unable to let out a shuddering, wet breath without coughing up phlegm and blood

grasping at his chest and wincing with every small movement of his body

a broken man… well, even more of a broken man

of course you wanted to help him — you loved your brother after all — so you can up to him and held his arm to stop him from falling over

your touch light but firm enough as you smiled shakily and offered to help him — only to be met with a sharp glare as he pulled his arm from your grip and stumbled off

then you followed with questions, brows furrowed in concern as you asked him if he needed anything — any medicine, bandages, food, drink, anything

just let me help

and that’s when angel snapped, short temper directed at you as he yelled and screamed and belittled you, top arms flailing wildly — violently — whilst the bottom two clutched at his torn clothes and his aching chest

‘are you fucking blind?’

‘if i needed something i’d ask — do you not understand that?’

‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’

‘shut the hell up and leave me alone already!’

his outburst left you frozen in place, venomous words and angry gestures mirroring the buried shadows that haunted your memories

violent arguments

slamming doors

angry voices

no no no no no

not again please not again

your face was twisted into an expression of pure fear and shock as you stared and silently sobbed into your hands — mind here and away as angel realised what he’d done

he stops and sees you — really sees you — for the first time in a week and reaches out to you, heart breaking when you flinch and back away from him

matching his every step as he apologises and stumbles over himself trying to explain

but he only gets as far as the first syllable of valentino’s name before you’re off like a whippet — flying away like you’re shoes are on fire and running out into the streets

and angel’s eyes water from pain and guilt as he clutches his chest and takes the spare blanket from vaggie to cover himself — feeling charlie’s hand clasping his shoulder as she tells him to get some rest, that they’ll go and get you

and he doesn’t even fight it, too tired and weary and guilty to try, instead just swaying on aching legs as vaggie reluctantly helps him back to his room

his own words echoing through his head as he realises just how much like his father he had been

christ he hoped they found you soon, he knew all too well what would happen if one of the overlords found you — and he just wanted you to be safe

you were just a kid, he was just a kid, and he doesn’t want you to end up like him

[le-trash-prince]

Kenta & Pete pt 2

From the very beginning of their relationship, Pete used his status to establish himself as Kenta's protector. This is not uncommon for people living with an abuser, and this is something that really strikes me as a key part of Pete's character. He uses his privilege to help people.

When Babe left Tony's house, he did so after finding out that Tony had been the reason behind Babe's family falling apart, that Tony was a saboteur rather than the benefactor he posed as. Babe didn't learn about the other children being sold until Charlie told him about it.

But Pete finds out while he is still living under Tony's roof, and that is what prompts him to leave. He doesn't confront Tony about it, he simply leaves. Because this is something that he can't just stand by and watch happen. This goes beyond shielding someone from punishment. His status as an enigma won't help, it won't end the cycle, so he leaves. And as we know, he spends the rest of his life building up the power he needs to put a stop to these children being sold off.

But Kenta, who must know Pete so well at this point, sees it coming and tries to stop him. For Kenta, Tony's house is his entire world. Tony is the one who gave him life.

He wasn't even allowed outside without permission. He doesn't have any privileges, he's there as a mere accessory to the needs of others.

He's been conditioned to believe that he owes everything to Tony. He is part of this house, and this is where he feels he belongs.

But if Pete leaves, he takes the only good thing in Kenta's life.

What goes unsaid is that rather than Tony being hurt by Pete’s actions, it’s Kenta who will be hurt if Pete leaves.

I don't know yet whether or not Pete reciprocated Kenta's feelings, but I do think that the kiss is told from Kenta's perspective, and I think Kenta took Pete's silence as rejection. So when Pete leaves, he appeals to their brotherly bond instead. We will no longer be phi and nong.

And in Kenta's eyes, it wasn't enough. He wasn't enough for Pete to stay. Pete left to save the others, when he had promised to protect Kenta.

And how much abuse has Kenta suffered since Pete left? To him, he was abandoned and betrayed.

But for Pete, he wanted Kenta to make a decision for himself. Kenta views himself as a tool, an accessory. Objects don't make decisions.

But Pete views him as a friend, as a good person. Kenta is not the object that Tony treats him as. He has wants and desires, he has feelings, and Pete wants Kenta to understand that.

Kenta wanted Pete to stay, and Pete wanted Kenta to leave, and it is tragedy that neither of these things happened. This is yet another example of broken family that Pit Babe has given us.

Kenta thinks it is too late for him to change, even if he is constantly being torn apart by the things he feels he must do, and by the abuse he continues to endure.

But Pete thinks it is never too late for someone to change. He still hasn't given up on Kenta, and how that must burn—to have someone believe in you when you have never believed in yourself.

Kenta has spent years repressing his reactions to everything that he has endured and witnessed and taken part in. He is putting everything into convincing himself that he doesn't care, that he can even kill his childhood love as long as it is for the one person who has given him purpose.

But he does care, he cares so much, and he is closer to his breaking point than we've ever seen him before.

pt 1

[doe-eyed-fool]

Heaven Is Where You Are

Chapter One

Lucifer x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): Mentions of blood, Injury

Making this into a full fic lol. Enjoy~

There were consequences for every action, and it could be good or bad. When given life, one would live it to the fullest, and try to be good. Try to be forgiving, even when it hurts. Try to be understanding, even when it's hard. Try to be a better human being.

And when that life comes to an end, the consequence for doing all one can, being the best version of one's self, is the afterlife of Heaven.

Life, was a gift. Heaven, was a privilege. Not just anyone could get in.

So, when given such a privilege one would consider themselves lucky. Blessed, even. There would never come a day of hardship or anguish. It was paradise after all. It was meant to be easy, meant to be rest and relaxation for the rest of eternity.

And you, an angel granted that paradise from the very beginning, knew better than to take it all for granted.

But how much longer could you go, knowing that he was gone?

Lucifer. God's favorite. The brightest star in all existence, in your eyes. He was so much more than an angel. He inspired those around him, made everyone's day better, including yours.

Though, there were times when his creativity worried and concerned others.

And in the end, that creative mind of his, would lead him to his doom.

Even God frowned upon his ideas, his views, but God was merciful. Lucifer was given the chance to stay, if he put aside all of that "nonsense".

But Lucifer refused. He insisted that these new ideas of his could be grand. It could change the very way of life itself. And that's what scared everyone.

Lucifer was forced from Heaven, and fell into the wasteland of what would soon be called Hell down below.

Your heart ached, not a day would go by, when you didn't miss Lucifer. There was no way of contacting him, it was out of your power to do so. Many nights you spent crying, and wishing he were still here.

All you could do, was hope and pray that he was alright.

As the years go by, moving on grew harder and harder. And just as you began to give up, there was a flicker of hope that walked through Heaven's gates.

Charlie Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer.

You saw so much of Lucifer in her. The light in her eyes, her determination, her strong will, even her smile. It all reminded of you of him.

And if Charlie was here, Lucifer was still alive and hopefully well.

You couldn't give up now. Now, you had a reason to fight for a chance to see him once more. However, it would come with dire consequences...

Heaven grew further and further away from you as you rapidly descend. The pain from loosing your wings, and the harsh plummet to the hard ground below would all be worth it in the end. Just a little while longer...

You didn't move for a moment, as you looked up at the blood red sky. Your head was pounding, and your body ached, but you couldn't give in just yet.

You brought yourself to a stand, and start walking. There was only one place you could go now. And you could only hope that she would welcome you in.

You grew more exhausted by the minute as you continue onward. Nearly tripping and falling over as your legs trembled with every step.

Almost there.

You walked for what felt like hours before finally arriving at your destination. You look up at the tall building before you.

Hazbin Hotel.

Relief washed over you, but just as you took another step, exhaustion finally settled in.

And you collapsed.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, you could hear a voice, though it sounded muffled.

"The fuck? Ugh...Ey! Charlie! We got a dead body out here!"

"A what!?"

Charlie. That's who you came here for. Darkness took over before you could utter a word, but only for a brief moment.

"What happened?"

"I dunno, I just found her like this."

"Well...What should we...Wait. Is that...Her blood! It's-"

Again, into darkness. The voices only growing more and more muffled as you finally slipped into unconsciousness.

You awoke sometime later. A groan left you as you brought yourself to a sit. As you did, your back throbbed with new pain. With a hiss, you look over your shoulder. Your wings were gone, but that wasn't the only thing that stood out.

Your top was missing, the only thing keeping you covered was thick bandages wrapped around your back and chest. Who did this? You take a look around, and noticed you were in a room.

The bed you were on was surprisingly comfortable. To the left of the bed, was a large window that lead to a balcony. Ahead of you was a bathroom and outside of it, slightly towards the left, was a decently sized TV. And to the far left of the room, was a closet and the door.

Who's room was this? Where were you? Who bandaged you?

Your questions would soon be answered, as someone opened the door and walked inside. You relaxed upon seeing just who it was.

"Hey, you're awake."

Charlie Morningstar. She smiled as she approached you, carefully and cautiously. She stood just before the bed. "How are you feeling?" She asks.

"Sore." You mumble. Charlie nods. "I thought you might be." She motions her hand to the table beside the bed. You look over to see a glass of water and some medicine. "Go ahead, you'll feel much better."

You thank her before reaching for the medicine and water. You downed the pills and sighed. Hopefully it will kick in soon.

"So. Um...Sorry if this is uh, a bit of a personal question but..." Charlie trailed off, rubbing her neck. "Are you...an angel?"

You nod. "I am. Well...I was. I'm not an exorcist angel, if that's what you're worried about."

"Yeah, I didn't think you were." Charlie says before sitting at the corner of the bed. "But I'm still confused. What happened?"

"It's...a very long story." You sigh. Charlie stays quiet, giving you the ok to continue. And so, you told her everything. You told her about Lucifer, and how much you cared for him. You told her how lonely you felt when he fell all those years ago. And you told her how you risked everything, for the chance to see him, just one more time.

"You must have really missed him." Charlie says softly. "I did. I still do..." You felt tears at your eyes. "Please, tell me, how is he?"

"He's doing good. Well, he is now." Charlie tells you with a small smile. "I don't know if you know this but, him and my mother split. And it kind of...really made him upset. He wasn't the same for a while after that. But, as of recently, things have been slowly getting better. We've even grown closer."

You heard rumors of Lilith suddenly disappearing without a trace. It only added to your worries. Lucifer fell with Lilith, the love of his life. They both made sacrifices, some that hurt them, but they had each other.

And that gave you a strange new feeling you'd never felt before. And you didn't like it, nor could you explain it...

"Well, I'm glad he's doing better now." You smile. "I may be overstepping here but...may I see him? I don't think I can go another second without seeing him. It would only be for a little while."

Charlie chuckles and offers her hand. "You're more than welcomed to see him. I'm sure he'd want to see you too."

Your smile grew. Finally, after all these years, you'd be able to see Lucifer again. Your heart soared at the thought, you could hardly contain your excitement.

You reach out, and take Charlie's hand.